Legalities:  The characters in this story belong to the original creator,
Madame Rumiko Takahashi, may Christ Bless her Soul.

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	One word...
	By Myrriden
	Edited by Nick Casler
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	It is in times like this that I begin to wonder if it is really
worth it all.  I mean; I see her sitting there, I think to myself," Do I
really deserve her?"
	I still don't know.  I mean, she's the first girl who actually
ever loved me for being...me.  How can I turn my back on that?  But, do I
really want to spend my life with her?  That is a question...I can't answer.
	Knowing my own soul is a rather commonplace thing for me.  I like
to think I know myself through and through.  People might say that I am
deluding myself, considering all that I do; but I am not.  I do what I do,
as it is the only way to reassure myself that I am actually there.
	I am actually there...
	This world is a dark and lonely place, with nary a feeling trapped 
inside a falsitude of warmth and sharing.  I've never known the love of 
another.  My mother; my father.  Both never said a word to me, other than
a quick statement of some inane advice.  Then my mother died, leaving me to 
strive for myself, as my so-called 'father' was hardly ever there.  When
he was, his anger taught me what to feel.
	That is when I took to wandering.
	I thought I had met a friend at school, something that never
happened.  I was the outcast; the strange one.  He was a young boy, like
myself at the time, but always with a word.  One, such as myself, who never knew a kind 
word, could take the double edged compliments at face-value.  
	It scored deeply when my friend, my only friend, began to steal
food from me.  It was not only the food, but he taunted and teased me.  He took 
what I had given him, and threw it back in my face.  Enraged at his
audacity, I did what my father would have done, and challenged him to
fights, many fights, which he always won.  He always beat me, forcing the anger and 
resentment ever deeper, until even I could barely recognize my own
tortured soul.
	Rage inside me, and the dark depression which had become my
mainstay throughout those years with my father, forced me to seek him out, to
settle the score.  To finally show him, the world, who was better.  
	Yet...even today, I have never truly been able to defeat him;
mind, body, and soul.  There has always been something in me...that has held
back.
	But I know defeat.  I know it as well as I know the creature that 
is myself.  I have been shunned and cursed many times because of my
abilities, or lack thereof.  My work with art, the poems and artifacts I create,
trying to set my cursed soul at ease, the very words of beauty I seek to
express...fail to allow others to truly know me.
	The last person to read a poem, a female friend of mind, exclaimed 
with a mocking laugh, "What do you know about this?"
	Then I think of Kuno, the self righteous pug who wouldn't know
poetry if it came up and shoved a fist up his...but I digress.
	It is this...these words and forms that I must use to understand 
myself all the better.  Words are truly meaningless, unless you know the 
person speaking them soul to soul.  Can one truly express, with the 
inefficient force of air moving past the throat, how they feel?  Actors 
strive to master the tones and facial expressions that enable them to
portray groups of emotions with one twist of a smile.  To portray exactly
what they're character feels.  But, it is impossible.
	When I see the face, her face, of the one I love, the words catch
in my throat.  If only I could tell her everything I felt...the entirety of
my soul.  Impossible.  Truly and utterly impossible.
	Not even the effect of this newfound emotion dwelling in my
breast, nor these simple words written on this piece of paper can help me describe 
the feeling inside.  They cannot help to express me.  It is nice, however
to be able to write these things, to write and contemplate these things on
this sheet of paper.  It is nice to explore my feelings by writing about them, 
hearing them in my mind over and over again.
	This is me?
	Yes...
	This is Ryouga Hibiki.

	Now I see that sweet face, full of tears, dipped into the arms, as 
she sits there, crying...my soul is stirring...She had proclaimed she
loves me.  Why cannot I accept this for what it is?
	Hesitantly, my arm gently places itself on her shoulder, against 
my will it would seem.
	She looks at me now, the tears streaming, shock echoed in the 
beautiful water eyes, a newfound smile touching the edge of her features,  
"You came back for me?'
	The words catch again.  I curse myself.  Did I come back?
		For her?
	I am arguing with myself so suddenly, it seems as if I am merely 
using an excuse to live with the pain.  She deserves someone better...the 
words of a weak man afraid of change, afraid to put his heart...the
newfound feelings inside, on the line for the one who awakened those 
feeling within 
his soul.
	"I..." I still struggle, trying to find the appropriate thing to
say.  Without a thought, not of my own volition, I find myself speaking,
the words gibberish to my ears, the words rushing out; like those of a man
giving way to a wave of oncoming water, I have given in to the emotions.
	First she is surprised, giving me a look that sinks my heart lower 
the longer she gazes.  Then, as the tears begin to stream even faster than 
before, she throws herself into my surprised arms, "I love you too,
Ryouga," she whispers, "Oh God, I love you."
	Can one truly express the entirety of their soul in one word?
No... but they can in three.

	Akari...I love you. 


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-/\/\- out

http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Dojo/6757
        Lost World of Ryouga