Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Burned in Memories ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Burned in Memories   Prologue   By Pinay Tiger    

It wasn’t that the day was dying to night and that the hands of darkness would play across the gray and solemn skies again. Nor was it that the winds bustled and howled through the streets of the dimming city. No. Whoever thought the dark to be brash and unwittingly blatant in its potent obscurity forgot about its beauty, its multitude of stars, and the moon that luminously caressed the land.  

As a lone figure, she had stared at the night skies for several hours. She had delicately traced a long and slender finger across the silkiness of silver sands. The beach was comforting, the swells of water rolling in languidly across the stretched ribbon of hoary velvet. The coursing sound of waves breaking against shore was about the only thing she was concentrating on, her mind in a pensive state. The darkness of the night was also adding to her brooding image. She averted her gaze that was fixed on the beach sands and looked toward the skies. The wind picked up, and she hugged her legs to her chest to ward off the cold.  

She had always been like this, calm and quiet, constantly thinking. It was hard to read her mind, but who would’ve even bothered? Her silence went unnoticed. But she knew one thing: her smile was contagious.  

He had told her once that was the most wonderful thing she could ever do for him - to smile. What came as a conundrum was why she didn’t use that smile to the best of her abilities. It should have been easy - talk, look at someone, then smile. Obviously, her life wasn’t what it used to be. And feigning radiant upturned curves was clearly out of the question….  

She let her arms snake down to her bent legs and soon turned her gaze to the sea. What came to mind was a painting of mundane faces of goggling eyes, expressions happy and angry. Each and every face was on a pointless voyage, making its way through a pointless life. A panel of painted people was receiving too much thought even with her liberal use of metaphorical license. She wondered: what if the people she had passed meant some importance within her life? Everyone has some form of significance, whether it is tantalizingly meaningful, or just inconsequential in the long run.  

What would it mean for her to disdainfully walk past strangers? Each was like a pebble scattered carelessly and haphazardly on a forlorn stretch of land, whence chaos and uncertainty laced with indifference abound.  

Speaking to them was farfetched as well. Consider two options: She can talk, with her words mere ideas flying out half formed, ragged repartee punctuated with strewn confessions and pronouncements. Or, she can always voice them in her mind, a plane of white paper imagined where she had the time and place to shape what she said. But of all the options registering through her mind, she chose one: silence. It was easier to say nothing at all, ergo being consequently ignored.  

And so with this affinity for solitary silence, she found the night comforting. Not dark. Not rigid. Not cold. Not lonely. But calming.  

It was getting colder. Heaving a deep sigh, this lone figure rose to her feet slowly and raised her head in challenging confidence. She knew if she were gone any longer, her best friend would call the world to search for her. Typical Misao, she had voiced in her head. Maybe I should head back now.  

And soon after, a smile played across her lips….