Dear FFMLers
Here is the revised version of "Resignation."
Once again, C & C will be welcomed and greatly
appreciated. Thank you and I hope you enjoy this
little story of mine.
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RESIGNATION by B.S.N.
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DISCLAIMER: The characters of Rurouni Kenshin are the
property of Mr. Nobuhiro Watsuki, Sony, Shueisha/Jump
and all other associated parties. This fanfiction does
not intend to reap profit or benefit of any kind; it
was created for entertainment purposes only.
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A lone firefly hovers above the platform on
which I stand. I watch as the insect spirals slowly
down to the earth. The tiny green light flickers
weakly, sporadically. It is dying, I know. And though
its end is such a small thing, I feel strangely mournful.
The glow fades away and I am left in the darkness alone
again with my thoughts while I wait for the train bound
for Kyoto.
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There had been fireflies that evening as well.
Although it was not yet summer, the small, glowing
lights had floated aimlessly among the lush grasses of
the riverbank. As I hastened along the edge of the
river, I remember how their radiance had irresistibly
drawn my eyes from the path and transfixed them to
the shore. Yet somehow, as I looked upon those tiny
orbs, I had felt a strange, unaccountable pang of
sorrow and regret. Perhaps the unfamiliar ache arose
from the poignant, ethereal beauty of the evening or
perhaps it grew from the bitter disappointment that
I felt that night or perhaps it originated from the
heavy sense of foreboding that had troubled me throughout
the day. But I had refused to consider these matters at
the time; there was work to be done and I had not the
leisure to ponder them seriously. Instead, I hurried
onwards and essayed to direct my eyes to the dim road
before me. As I walked around the bend of the path,
the fireflies vanished from my sight.
I recall how my companion and I had walked
down the road in silence, both of us deep in thought.
Though we spoke not, I knew where his thoughts lay; my
own thoughts were also fixed upon that place and its
inhabitants as well. I was also certain that the heart
that beat so steadily beneath his coarse, white yukata
was not as burdened and as pained as my own.
Oh, how I wanted to see his familiar face for
one last time! To feel his slight, callused hands
pressed against my own! To bid him farewell! But there
was a duty to be performed and the child that held my
hand and the tall man that walked quietly beside me kept
me to my course. And though my entire being strained to
return to him, I walked on, increasing the distance
between him and myself.
He had left that evening. Without one word,
without one look, he had disappeared into the darkness,
alone. But no, this was not quite true, I knew. He had
spoken but his words had been directed at another, not to
me. He had looked, but his eyes had seen another, not me.
When I returned, I saw her in the road, prostrate with
anguish and distress. Many hours had passed since his
departure, but she had not arisen from the spot where
they had parted. She had continued to whisper his name,
though the night had been chill and the dew had fallen.
It was then that the foreboding within me shaped itself
into a definite, distinct feeling--a heavy compound of
sorrow, loss and regret. It was a cold, leaden weight
that sank the secret hopes that I had cherished so long
within me. As I gazed upon her, I felt its frost slowly
steal across my heart, my spirit and finally, my body,
hardening the lines of my face and freezing the tears
that had threatened to overflow.
Later that night, I wept in my room, alone.
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It was then when I finally confronted the truth:
It was she and not me that he loved. Though my mind
had accepted that reality, my heart was rebellious and
incredulous still. It continued to re-create the same
wishes, the same dreams that had been overturned that
late spring evening. As soon as I had thought that I
had rid my heart of these hopes and convinced myself
of their foolishness and impossibility, these same
hopes would rise again, as buoyant and as sanguine as
ever.
I remember the time, shortly after that night,
when I had gone again to the dojo. As I stared at the
door, a wave of despondency and loneliness washed over
me. Everyone had left to follow him and I was the only
who had stayed behind. What was I doing there again?
Why did I bother coming? Why did I return to the place
of my disappointment and my heartache? As I stood
pondering these question, the bitterness and despair
within me increased. Yet when I found the door
unlocked, a sudden gush of joy and expectation had
bubbled within me. Perhaps he has returned! Perhaps
he has decided not to go to Kyoto and has come home!
And as I ran through the portal, I was filled with an
exquisite happiness, an overpowering delight. But
instead of finding him in the courtyard, I had
discovered his mortal enemy within.
Foolish, vain hope! To think that he would be
waiting for me! He was gone, perhaps never to return
again. And he did not love me.
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Now I am waiting here at the station. I am
traveling to Kyoto for I am needed there. But I go to
him only to lend him my aid, that is all.
Yes, I will see him again. I am eager, I am
impatient, I am joyous. . .yet I am also fearful. It
will hurt me to see him again. I know that when we meet,
I will feel the same sorrow and loneliness and emptiness
that overwhelmed my heart that one spring evening. . .as
it hurts me now to recall the past scenes in which I
finally saw the truth.
I will see him again. . .but I will also see _her_
by his side. The image is painful and although it is
only a vision, I know it to be true. But it is a truth
that still grieves me. Yet I go, for I have a duty to
perform, a call for help that cannot be ignored. It is
the nature of my office.
From the corner of my eye, I see another faint
gleam. Another firefly floats down to the ground
below me. Another glow, another glimmer, another brief
light--and then it fades. And I am alone again with my
thoughts once more, waiting for a train bound to Kyoto.
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AUTHOR'S NOTES: I want to dedicate this revision to
my fellow fanfic author, friend and mentor, Allyn
Yonge. Allyn, I really appreciate all the wonderful
advice and encouragement you've given me: without it,
my fanfiction (such as "Resignation") would have been
a lot poorer in quality and my drive to write would
have been extinguished. Your work--both from your own
fanfiction and in your comments--continues to inspire
to do my best. ^_^
This work was inspired by Madamhydra's
"Impressions" (one of her best works, in my humble
opinion) and Sakka-chan's "These Changing Times"
(another excellent RK fanfiction).
Once again, comments would be greatly
welcomed and appreciated. Thanks! ^_^
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