Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Kazemaru and Miharu ❯ Chapter 6

As much as Kazemaru tried, he couldn't keep away from the palace at Kurihama. He found himself continually drifting in that direction, and occasionally allowed himself to come close enough to look for her through the falling snow. He saw her once or twice, but he always seemed to catch her when she was re-entering the palace, a brief glimpse of her distinctive blue-black hair and kimonos surrounded by maids, and then nothing. But then it was winter, and a little too cold for humans to be outside all day.

 

Then one evening, after an unusually warm day, he happened to catch her out walking. He watched intently as she dismissed her handmaidens, who looked worried, but complied. She was leaning on the same balcony he had left her near, and he struggled to find a way to get closer without her seeing him. He looked at the layout of the large Gazebo. There was a pathway to one side, that led to a little booth with a curtain. He had no idea what its purpose was, but he darted behind it when she wasn't looking.

 

It was small and dark and a little stuffy, but between the curtain and the wall, he could peek out and see her without risking his discovery. She stood less than 20 feet away from him, just as he remembered her, but her expression seemed out of place. She was smiling, but it looked so sad. Her eyes were distant, and looked tired. She was wearing several kimonos, and they hung about her stiffly, like a flower with too much greenery in the bouquet. Her hair was done up elaborately, too, and he noticed that among the many ornaments in it was the small ivory comb he had given her. She leaned against the railing with ease, and sighed.

 

“Oh, Kazemaru-sama…” he froze. Her voice was so deep and sad. And she knew he was here. How could she have seen him? He swallowed hard. Would she call to the guards?

 

She chuckled, as if reading his thoughts. “My handmaidens think I'm crazy, you know. I come out here very often and just talk to myself. They say it isn't natural. But it helps me, a little.” She caught an errant strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear.

 

He was confused. It sounded like she was talking to him, but she made no indication of knowing where he was. She stared into the sky, as if expecting him to materialize there. Never once did she even glance in his direction. Despite the chill air he felt a fine sweat develop on his forehead and back.

 

“The funny thing is,” she went on, “if they knew what I was saying, they would think I was even crazier.” She laughed sadly again. And the next thing she said stopped everything.

 

“I miss you so much.”

 

It was such a simple phrase. And even though he couldn't breathe, his heart felt as if it were going to jump out of his ribcage. Did he imagine her saying that? He sank down into a crouch, unable to stand upright.

 

And still she went on. “I want nothing more than to see you again, even though I know that's impossible.” Her voice took on a tortured note, and it shot him through like an arrow.

 

For a split second he wanted to burst through the curtain and reassure her, but it finally sunk in that she really didn't know he was there. She was pretending to talk to him. He sat back on the cold dusty floor, overwhelmed and unsure of what to do.

 

“I know that you wanted me to forget you, and I've tried.” She stared at her hands. “But I look around me and all I see are shrewd and shallow people, who don't know what matters, or even what a decent meal is.” She laughed half-heartedly, and her voice lowered to a whispered hush. “Every night I visit you in my dreams, and when I wake up I curse myself for such torture. And then I look forward to it, when I fall asleep.” She giggled again, quiet and somehow utterly tragic. “Kazemaru…” the way she said his name made his heart sink to his stomach. “I think I've fallen in love with you.”

 

There was a long pause in which he could not even think, her words ringing in his mind, the same words he had tried so hard to ignore in his own mind. The entire world went still, not even the trees stirred. He watched as she turned around to lean her back against the railing, and he wondered if this was another dream, much like the ones she had mentioned. He hadn't been sleeping well, but then maybe it had finally caught up with him.

 

“I wish I could write to you,” she said suddenly, in a practical voice. “But what address does one write to send it to the wind? And who would deliver such a letter? I can read and write, a little,” she smiled, proud of such a rare accomplishment. Her face fell. “But what use is it when I can't do anything but write other people's poetry and false little diaries I know my handmaidens will read?” She sighed, and paused.

 

“You know, they asked me if you had hurt me.” He didn't know why he couldn't move then, and now he watched with a morbid sense of curiosity.

 

“I told them you hadn't, of course. So they asked me why I had been taken. I said I didn't know. They thought all the crying I did was because I had been so scared. But the truth is, I don't want to live here anymore because you've spoiled it all for me.” That hauntingly sad smile came back to her face, though it wavered. “Living no longer is enjoyable. It's worse than it was before. And I'm too much of a coward to end it because some mean little corner of my mind seems to think that you'll come back some day, even though I know it isn't possible.” She laughed, and it was such a hollow sound it made him ache inside as if he was hollow too.

 

“And so I stand out here, and feel the wind on my face, and imagine that it's you.”

 

Well, he could do something about that. He mentally formed a hand in his mind, and held it to her face. A soft breeze blew just there, against her soft cheek, and she closed her eyes. She leaned into it, as if she knew its purpose, and a tear ran down her cheek. “My imagination is so cruel…” she sobbed. With that she spun around and headed back towards the palace as fast as her many layers would allow.

 

Kazemaru sat in the closet like space for a few minutes, stunned. At last he checked to see that no one was nearby, and shot back up in the sky. He hovered there a moment, thinking. So. She felt the same way. What was he going to do about it? Somehow just by seeing her like that, hearing his same thoughts come from her lips, had changed his view. The part of his mind that had objected to this all along was now completely gone. It didn't matter anymore. It was just the way it was.

 

He studied the palace grounds, memorizing it the way he had memorized her face. There were little puddles all around, and they reflected the white sky back at him. The roof tiles were dark red with moisture, and a few hopeful green shoots had poked their heads above the ground, misled by the early warmth.

 

He flew back to the island slowly, thinking. What could he do to tell her? He had to tell her now, it was a simple necessity in his mind. He had heard her innermost feelings without her knowledge, the least he could do was to let her know he felt the same way. When he reached the cavern it was already dark. He took off his armor and placed it in the cupboard, and stretched out on the feathers he had meticulously gathered from the air one by one. For days he had been able to smell her on them, but the scent had eventually faded. He stared at the strange formations on the ceiling that were now so familiar to him, and then the idea came.

 

It was ridiculously simple. It might fail, but if it didn't, it was more than worth it. If it didn't work, she would never know. If it did…. He got up and went to his writing desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper and mixed up a little ink. His brush hovered a moment, thinking.

 

“My dearest Miharu,” he wrote, in simple hiragana. He looked at the symbols and smiled. This just might work.

 

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AN:

Ok, I know you're gagging on the fluff, but give it a chance. It gets way better.