Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Yuki no Hana ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: T_T……T_T…… Rou-ken's not mine. Please don't sue!

 

Yuki no Hana

By puresunlight (aka bringer of the sun)

 

~*~*~

 

There was never a them. It was always just her and just him.

 

Misao stared blankly at the snow. She sat on the shrine steps, arms around her shins and chin resting on her knees, curled into herself, away from the cold. Away from the world. She seemed infinitely small, a dark fleck against the white-washed expanse of the shrine courtyard, and so utterly alone in the middle of the pure whiteness unmarred by a single step. Absently, she noted the sparse fluffy flakes that drifted ever so softly from the sky, frosting her bangs and braid.

 

She used to believe the falling bits of water and ice were flowers. Snow flowers, she had called them. How many times had she sat by the old window which shook with the force of the stormy gales, watching the flurry of pure white yuki no hana bury the city?

 

The snow fell endlessly, coating and recoating the world with its pallid splendor. It was beautiful, this masked existence. Beautiful and bitterly cold. It was a chill that forced its way past skin, froze blood and settled itself deeply into aching bones.

 

He had left on such a day. She had been as pale and pure as the snow around her then. The years had tainted her, tinting her complexion with gold, but her heart a bleak grey. It had done nothing to soothe the sting of memory and each painful remembrance was etched deep in her mind.

 

She had chased after him, clumsy little feet scattering the fresh powder with each running step to reveal the old, soiled ice that lay beneath. The cold had stung her feet, sinking its claws into her tender flesh until at last she cried out, tumbling to her knees in an undignified pile of child and cloth on the blackened snow. She gasped for precious air, wheezing with every icy lungful that twisted her gut. The starkly beautiful petals drifted on and about her as she lay there, unable to quell the trembling in her lips or the tears that overflowed her bright turquoise eyes. When she finally looked up, the horizon was empty. He was already gone.

 

And then how many times had she sat pressed against the same icy window, peering intently through the veil of snow blossoms for any sign, any glimpse of him? Her eyes were stormy and dark on those days, flickering as an internal war raged between doubt, hesitation and hope. Despite the gooseflesh that inevitably covered her arms and the numb chill that seeped into her extremities, she refused to be moved. She would sit there for hours, focused only on the road outside. The other inhabitants of Aoiya knew better than to disturb her when she sat by that window, save perhaps to bring her a blanket. Even then, the slack grip of her bloodless fingers always led to the blanket falling away. She never noticed when it did.

 

The familiar cold teased her feet now. She sighed, the frigid air coloring the cloud of her breath. He had come back. Ten years away and he suddenly decided to show up at the Aoiya again. Nothing had changed in the five years since his return. Still, it remained just her and just him. He was alone in the shrine behind her, meditating. And she was still waiting for him.

 

She had followed him to the shrine, as always, trailing several feet behind him with her eyes trained on his back. He never asked her to come nor questioned her decision to do so. She never asked to come. She just did. She would accompany him into the temple and sit on the steps outside, waiting for him to finish. They never spoke on these excursions.

 

When he felt ready to return to the Aoiya, he would take his leave of the shrine, pausing to acknowledge her with a nod. As he walked away, she would follow, always several feet behind with her eyes on his back.

 

The snow fell thicker now, in soft, fat globs that soaked the outermost layer of her kimono. The sound of a closing door made her turn around. He stood there, dark blue against pure white and tipped his head slightly, lips curved in the ghost of a smile. Her eyes followed him as he walked down towards her, and then two steps past, where he stopped.

 

“Misao,” he murmered, turning toward her. There was an awkward pause. Swiftly, he took off his trench coat and held it out to her.

 

She froze in her seat. “Aoshi-sama?”

 

He draped the warm jacket around her.

 

“It's cold Misao. Let us go home.”

 

And they did, with the petals of snow flowers falling silently around them.

 

 

FIN

 

~*~*~

 

 

Please R&R! Constructive criticism is very greatly appreciated!