Utena, Revolutionary Girl Fan Fiction ❯ The Darker Shades of Green ❯ To Be Worthy ( Chapter 2 )

Hello, here I am again, with chapter 2. This fanfic is really depressing to write. Sorry if updates will seem a bit slow, but I really will try and keep up with the updates weekly, or when I feel like it, so keep checking up. Thanks for your reviews.

I’m going to be going into some of what I think Saionji’s childhood was in this chapter.

Now on to chapter 2.

PLEASE TAKE THE WARNING SERIOUSLY. I WILL NOT SAY THIS AGAIN!!!!!

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The Darker Shades of Green

By: Red Rose Touga

Chapter 2: To Be Worthy

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I would conquer the world 7 times over, but would you notice my achievements?

The crashing of shinais, the force of the battle. Sweat. Blood. Spit. Stress and anguish. This is the life of a kendoist.

A child lies on the floor, his pastel form hunched over. His breath ragged and his sweat drops slowly, drop by drop onto the kendo hall floor. It’s as if the apprehension and tenderness were so thick some of it would have to leave his body before he exploded.

“What are you doing?”

“But father, I’m really tired. We’ve been training for hours. Can’t we take a break?”

“Winners don’t take breaks.”

This child got up slowly and begun to train harder with less vivacity as before. His body wearing down, his breathing so evident that his chest seared with pain with every breath. Wincing, he rubbed his torso and went on, wanting to be a victor. This small one strains and strains himself for this man…the man he calls father.

This child seems extraordinary for his fortitude under such pressure, but he knows that he is still but a child, and could never be as hard-wearing or vigorous as the other kendoists who were much older then him.

He simply wanted to satisfy his father though deep inside he knew he could by no means be what his father wanted him to be.

“Please, father. I don’t have the energy to go on.”

The child begged in a feeble voice.

His father threw down the shinai. The long, wooden, slender weapon bouncing over across the floor.

“You’ll never obtain anything being that weak!”

I made a thrashing motion with my shinai. My gaze sharpening at the black wall on the other side of the kendo hall, recalling these memories makes my stomach churn.

When people recall youth, they never think of moments like this their heads are always filled with blissful visions of innocence and naïveté not throbbing and fatigue. They were never pushed as I was!

I spun and slashed it to the side. My eyes flashing coldly. I swung it with ferocity once more, and again, and again. My sweat flying from my body, dripping onto the floor as I do. I do not even discern the pain in my hand as the binding progressively consumed with the scarlet liquid from the tight grip on the weapon. I had reopened the laceration. Perhaps this was a good thing. I shouldn’t be so tense during training anyway, am I trying to kill myself before I go to the championships?

Not that I’ll fucking win anyway…

I stopped for a while.

‘You’ll never be anyone if you can’t win, Saionji!’

Putting my shinai up, I got out my practice sword. I examined the blade, the manifestation of cold eyes staring back at me, the eyes softened after a moment.

“You’ll never amount to anything, if you don’t exert yourself.” The ominous voice rung through my head.

With a steely gaze I began to train promptly and with more persistence then before. Not noticing that during training, the bandage slowly undone itself and was fluttering around my clenched hand. The blood being released out onto the sword’s blade, gushing out of the open wound from the pressure being applied to it. A tiny stream released onto the sword’s blade. I stopped training to look at the blade, holding it up to my face. I examined it. Running my hand across the blade, smearing it, the now red bandage falling onto the floor.

“What are you doing Saionji? Train harder!”

“But father!”

A shinai was knocked from the child’s hand. A small body hitting the floor with a thud, the clanking of weapons could be heard from in the wake of him.

“Get up and train! Don’t be weak!” His father pressured.

For many years the child had trained like this.

He had been told his labors amounted to nothing they never did, did they?

Worthless.

That’s all I was.

That’s all I’d ever be.

No matter how hard I try, I can always do better. I could win the world over 7 times over but would anyone notice my achievements? Hell no.

I am doomed to be damned and damned to be doomed.

I can do better than this.

I can and I will.

I thrust the shinai in front of me and stagger a bit.

I should stop being so damn weak! I must attest myself and live up to what father wants me to be- a champion.

There is no place in the world for losers. Loss is objectionable.

A blissful child ran up to his father with a golden trophy, the smooth surface unblemished many tomes of gold. He held out the trophy ecstatically.

“Look father, I won the kendo tournament!” He smiled brilliantly, happy that he was able to achieve the one thing his father had imagined. He could be the best. The young one had accomplished everything he could think.

…Or, at least he thought.

“You barely won. You shouldn’t have even advanced to the finals; you’re not near as good as the other fighters.”

Suddenly, with a rapid movement, the small figure wrinkled to the ground yet again, his face stinging and the “prize” he had won tumbled across the floor.

“Go and train, make yourself useful. Next time, earn the trophy rightfully.” With that, he walked mutely away, leaving the broken child on the floor, holding his cheek, which was stinging red. The heliotrope eyes producing tears as he got slowly up and trudged across the room, bending over and grabbing the trophy and holding it loosely at his side.

He sat in his room and cried unspoken tears. The child couldn’t help but feel the denunciation not only from his parents, but from himself as well.

Maybe I didn’t really earn that trophy…

I kept it around for maybe a week, pondering on if I had really deserved it.

I hadn’t.

The child stood before the lake. The water blue and sparkling against the sunlight. Green hair blowing in the air stream, the child’s miserable, lonesome eyes gazed upon the blue, depression and dejection showing in them, scarring the innocence within, tainting the purity, only I never knew it at the time. The child clenched the trophy; the golden object in his hand so tightly that it shook with his weak nerves.

‘False dreams…false hope…I can never be a winner!’

With that, I chunked it into the lake. The ‘false hope’ sinking to the bottom of the lake, along with all of my hard work and dedication.

“I can never do anything right!” He shouted, tears streaming down his face as he sunk to his knees and cried.

Good riddance to it. I never deserved it anyway.

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Preview for the next chapter:

If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

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A/N: Well, hope that explains some things. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter as well. I tried to keep it in character as always. I’ve always believed Saionji was someone who was pushed as a child; it explains his constant wanting to prove himself. Please R&R and tell me what you all think!