And through it all, she offers me protection,
A lot of love and affection,
- Robbie Williams, Angels
A lot of love and affection,
- Robbie Williams, Angels
You watch yourself in the mirror, meticulously picking out the invisible lint and stray threads from your white haori, all the while straightening and adjusting it to be of appropriate length. The wound on your forehead seems to have healed, and you press the kenseiken firmly into place, before picking up your Senbonsakura and its sheath and attaching it to the obi on your waist. You stray a glance at the huddled lump, with just a hint of the shimmering obsidian tresses peeking out, sleeping soundly, in your bed, blanketed in the messy pink sheets and spare a rare smile. You are off to work, and you find it comforting that it is your work that helps keep her safe. And you look forward to getting back into her warm embrace and soothing presence, for it is she that helps keep you safe.
You eye the sniveling, growling menos contemptuously, for you know a simple mistake means certain life or death (re-death, in any shinigami’s case). And such a simple mistake is not one you are willing to commit, for death would simply mean an eternal parting from her and everything about her and that is simply something you would not want. To even contemplate such an event pains you and you vow never, ever to let anything remotely similar occur. And so, you draw yourself up, steady your sword, and take a deep breath. Senbonsakura Kageyoshi! And you watch the petals fly, flitting gracefully in the blue sky to bring you back to her.
You drag your wounded body back into your manor, blood seeping through your once white haori. You pay no attention to the muddy tracks on the stainless floors; you pay no heed to the bloodstains that mark you passing. You adamantly refused treatment from the Fourth Division and their Captain; you seek not the cold professional hands of an expert, but the warm loving touch of your wife. You know her reactions perfectly well; you love her gasp and you love her scolding and you love her fussing; but most of all, you love her caring and her nurturing, and that is all you need to live.
You always reflected back on your adolescent years with a cynical perspective, you know you were a wild child and it was a miracle that your grandfather actually manage to tame you and mould you into who you are today: a respectable Captain of a respectable Division, and a noble lord of a noble house. But even as you reflect on your status today, you know how unlikely it was for you to turn out this way if you had not met her; she was as she is as she will be, adamantly gentle and infinitely patiently; she loved the former you and loves the current you and will love the future you; should you be deserving of her nourishing love.
You hear the slight mumble of the oh-so-honored guests celebrating the oh-so-honored ceremony, and it immediately raises your ire as you hear the foul-meaning, ill-spoken words meant to derogate your wife filter into the stuffy room. A swift glare sufficiently silenced the rude noble, but also earned you a reproachful look from the very damsel-in-distress. Apparently it would neither do you nor your reputation any good by intimidating members of the first noble house in Rukongai; you would have heatedly argued that your reputation pales in comparison with hers and that you have your sword to defend yours while she is defenseless against such attacks, had it not been for her look in her eyes that explained everything. You have your sword but I am your shield, her eyes told you. She apologized for your lack of manners and the courtesan huffily agreed to forget such a faux pas. She is protecting you again, even as she is wounded.
Your first impression of her was that of a noble and a commoner, you watched her with nothing more than disdain and perhaps a hint of amusement, as you watched her haggle furiously with the vegetable vendor over the price of a couple of good spices. At that very moment, you would never have expected yourself to end up marrying her, but maybe, just maybe, you fell in love a little with her right at that moment. Perhaps it was the glint in her ebony hair, perhaps it was the determined glare in her violet eyes, perhaps it was her small and slender body which positively glowed with energy. Or just perhaps it was the fact that she was the person, who was clumsy enough to fall in your stride, and you were chivalrous enough to cushion her fall; for whatever reason it may be, you somehow know that at that precise moment, she has already saved you from a life of loneliness.
Your father, and his father before him, had always maintained the perfect dignity of a proper noble estate. Not a speck of impropriety could be seen within the massive manors of the Kuchiki house, and her lords’ life were expected to be as orderly as the straight rows of cherry blossom trees that adorned the grounds, as proper as the respect the house commanded. It was expected of you to maintain such a respectable tradition, and you thought you would have. But creativity, impetuosity and spontaneity invaded your life the moment she invaded your heart. Your life was turned topsy-turvy and the very moment you saw the lone cherry blossom tree in the middle of the bare courtyard, you finally saw what she wanted you to see. You took her to that very tree the day it bloomed. You placed a hand on the tree and turned to her. Thank you.
You dust the gravestone a carefully, making sure not to disturb the offering placed there by the loving sister. A bouquet of cherry blossoms was all the latter knew off of her deceased sister and you could not really fault her for that. But it still hurts you nevertheless, for there is no one else besides yourself that would truly know her for who she is. Especially not even her own sister. But you would remedy it. You would tell all that you know of her to her sister and let the truth be revealed. You would tell how you met, how you two loved and how you two married. But, most of all, you would tell how she was your angel and protected and loved you. Till we meet again, Hisana. You press your lips on the cold, cold stone that housed her ashes and walk away.
You eye the sniveling, growling menos contemptuously, for you know a simple mistake means certain life or death (re-death, in any shinigami’s case). And such a simple mistake is not one you are willing to commit, for death would simply mean an eternal parting from her and everything about her and that is simply something you would not want. To even contemplate such an event pains you and you vow never, ever to let anything remotely similar occur. And so, you draw yourself up, steady your sword, and take a deep breath. Senbonsakura Kageyoshi! And you watch the petals fly, flitting gracefully in the blue sky to bring you back to her.
You drag your wounded body back into your manor, blood seeping through your once white haori. You pay no attention to the muddy tracks on the stainless floors; you pay no heed to the bloodstains that mark you passing. You adamantly refused treatment from the Fourth Division and their Captain; you seek not the cold professional hands of an expert, but the warm loving touch of your wife. You know her reactions perfectly well; you love her gasp and you love her scolding and you love her fussing; but most of all, you love her caring and her nurturing, and that is all you need to live.
You always reflected back on your adolescent years with a cynical perspective, you know you were a wild child and it was a miracle that your grandfather actually manage to tame you and mould you into who you are today: a respectable Captain of a respectable Division, and a noble lord of a noble house. But even as you reflect on your status today, you know how unlikely it was for you to turn out this way if you had not met her; she was as she is as she will be, adamantly gentle and infinitely patiently; she loved the former you and loves the current you and will love the future you; should you be deserving of her nourishing love.
You hear the slight mumble of the oh-so-honored guests celebrating the oh-so-honored ceremony, and it immediately raises your ire as you hear the foul-meaning, ill-spoken words meant to derogate your wife filter into the stuffy room. A swift glare sufficiently silenced the rude noble, but also earned you a reproachful look from the very damsel-in-distress. Apparently it would neither do you nor your reputation any good by intimidating members of the first noble house in Rukongai; you would have heatedly argued that your reputation pales in comparison with hers and that you have your sword to defend yours while she is defenseless against such attacks, had it not been for her look in her eyes that explained everything. You have your sword but I am your shield, her eyes told you. She apologized for your lack of manners and the courtesan huffily agreed to forget such a faux pas. She is protecting you again, even as she is wounded.
Your first impression of her was that of a noble and a commoner, you watched her with nothing more than disdain and perhaps a hint of amusement, as you watched her haggle furiously with the vegetable vendor over the price of a couple of good spices. At that very moment, you would never have expected yourself to end up marrying her, but maybe, just maybe, you fell in love a little with her right at that moment. Perhaps it was the glint in her ebony hair, perhaps it was the determined glare in her violet eyes, perhaps it was her small and slender body which positively glowed with energy. Or just perhaps it was the fact that she was the person, who was clumsy enough to fall in your stride, and you were chivalrous enough to cushion her fall; for whatever reason it may be, you somehow know that at that precise moment, she has already saved you from a life of loneliness.
Your father, and his father before him, had always maintained the perfect dignity of a proper noble estate. Not a speck of impropriety could be seen within the massive manors of the Kuchiki house, and her lords’ life were expected to be as orderly as the straight rows of cherry blossom trees that adorned the grounds, as proper as the respect the house commanded. It was expected of you to maintain such a respectable tradition, and you thought you would have. But creativity, impetuosity and spontaneity invaded your life the moment she invaded your heart. Your life was turned topsy-turvy and the very moment you saw the lone cherry blossom tree in the middle of the bare courtyard, you finally saw what she wanted you to see. You took her to that very tree the day it bloomed. You placed a hand on the tree and turned to her. Thank you.
You dust the gravestone a carefully, making sure not to disturb the offering placed there by the loving sister. A bouquet of cherry blossoms was all the latter knew off of her deceased sister and you could not really fault her for that. But it still hurts you nevertheless, for there is no one else besides yourself that would truly know her for who she is. Especially not even her own sister. But you would remedy it. You would tell all that you know of her to her sister and let the truth be revealed. You would tell how you met, how you two loved and how you two married. But, most of all, you would tell how she was your angel and protected and loved you. Till we meet again, Hisana. You press your lips on the cold, cold stone that housed her ashes and walk away.
gah, such good language, as expected from the master.
ReplyDeleteXD You should have made it longer, more details, add in conversations XDDDDDD