Aoi x Uruha - When the Sakura Falls - 6/?
Title: When the Sakura Falls
Chapters: 6/?
Author: granitemouth
Genre: AU, angst (romance at later events)
Warnings: nothing violent as of the moment.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: AoixUruha
Synopsis: Uruha is the perfect student, with a perfect world and the perfect image. But when the new student comes into class asking him questions he was never ready to answer, Uruha's perfectly crafted life started turn around in a direction he has never mastered.
Comments: Yay? Bad Aoi. Bad Aoi.
Beta: cherryrazor (*3*)
Previous:
CHAPTER 1: (I beg to differ. )
CHAPTER 2: ( Live youth? Whoever thought of that slogan should die. )
CHAPTER 3: ( I'm human and I thought and hoped I would be spared of the thought that as a student with clean records, I didn't commit anything biologically natural in public. )
CHAPTER 4: ( The thing I detest most is the idea of "failure" .)
CHAPTER 5: ( The world is sick, we know it, but we do not do anything about it. Really, we are just too busy with our own lives to care. But you’re not and that was my problem. )
I swore to myself that I would regain my place in that school no matter what. Although you have been bringing this chain of disasters on me, solely me, I swore to myself that I would never fall to the ground. I started wondering how and why it all happened to me: you coming to class that spring; why you had to sit close to me and whisper words I tried to avoid hearing through another voice; and why it was me of all people that you had to target. I started to wonder if we happened to have crossed roads before or if I have committed a stupid offence to somebody unconsciously, because your actions felt like revenge, slowly and painfully wounding me. I though of all of that as I stared at your back as you walked three feet a head of me, beside that solemn sight of cherry blossoms along the walls of the school campus.
My comeback fortunately was less painful, less unnerving. At least before Ms. Shino's class. Coming back to the room, it felt like nothing had changed. There was neither a band to welcome me nor any confetti thrown up the air for my big comeback. I wasn't expecting all of that, it was silly after all. But I guess we all at one point try to think we are really special to some people, although it is a fact that we can only expect so much. Inside, I felt shivers run down my spine. I was truly getting warped in my own game, in my own role and that kind of mindset.
It was all peaceful throughout morning classes. When lunch time came, Mariko, the girl in front of me, poked my bruise with her long fingernails painted in a sapphire blue color.
Curiosity may be the answer as to why people had to be adamant on their own feelings even if it meant dragging another’s ass with them. I presume that a bruise, in whatever glory it presented itself, recalls a feeling of pain and once it is pressed, the surge of pain resurfaces and swivels around that area of the inflicted person. But it is a wonder why this small symbol of pain is, for a lot of people, like a big red button that itches to be pushed, and people will always fall for it. No matter how that person whimpers in pain, they have to touch it to give the curiosity a name.
Perhaps that was how Mariko saw it, a big red button that needed to be pressed to find its function. I secretly winced at the sting of pain from the pressure the finger created. I wanted to show my annoyance at her, but as the gentleman that I was known as I simply gave her a smile and politely said: "No, it doesn't hurt anymore." Then we were both fine with that and she smiled back before taking her bento to take to where her group of friends, who were usually seated in the corner of the room. Soon they would be filling the classroom with giggles and a thing called a migraine would be knocking on my temples.
Miss Shino entering the classroom welcomed the end of the day, our last subject. We discussed the life and the works of Haruki Murakami that day and I enjoyed every single minute of it. I sincerely enjoyed myself listening to her words even though I hated the fact that she always gave me extra work after class, knowing that I was the only one interested in her subject. I was aware that half of the class was busy texting their friends and asking where to meet later or what karaoke place they would be visiting that night. Some were boldly asleep and some were clandestine in finishing their mission in a fantasy world on their mini consoles, yet I couldn't care less. I was absorbed in another space and time of a fantastic author. Miss Shino had a way of explaining words that I could connect very easily, though one may not have read that author's works, she can elaborate the characters’ feelings so well that the feeling was almost similar to the reading experience. I smiled, genuinely I smiled. It were those rare, blissful days in the classroom where I wasn't afraid of my mask falling off because I felt like my mind had legs of its own, leaping through time and spaces between the pages, and I had every right to access it in every way I wanted. In those places, my mask didn't exist and I could freely shove my face in waters of some unknown spring and I would always love the feeling, fresh and anew.
Sometimes it felt like magic.
But magic as a spell was always meant to be broken.
"Next week, we will continue more on Murakami's work. But before I leave please take this with all of you, a proverb which is very important to the theme of the journey in "Kafka on Shore": "In travelling, a companion, in life, compassion". Good evening everyone. Go home safe."
And with that the class was officially over. I heard Miss Shino motion for me to the direction of the faculty room and I knew just then what it had to do with me. I responded with a nod which in relief she replied back with a nod and a smile. I was about to stand up, indolently gathering my things, organizing my books and notebooks by height, my pens by color and pencils by sharpness. Most of the students left excitedly, the guys bouncing off the walls as they locked arms with friends, shouting carelessly in the hallway about arcades and karaoke. The girls usually grouped themselves and waited for one another, while chit-chatting away about small things such as hair color, idols on TV and concert schedules. Little did I know and the classroom scene was all too familiar, with only the two of us breathing the classroom air. I did not want to care, I should not. So I figured feigning your existence would be for the best for my heart, for my already stressed nerves. I snappily put my things inside my small leather bag and stood up, anxious to get out of this zone which was too small for me and you. But it wasn't like you would allow that, I should have known then.
"Chance encounters are what keep us going." I heard you say plainly as the floor screech with your seat pushed aside and your footsteps getting ahead of me. "Kafka, the character Kafka Tamura explained it like that. Interesting, isn't it?" And then you left me again, pondering for words.
Chance encounters. I felt those two words pounding on me like a gong as they echoed again and again, yet I couldn't quite grasp the meaning of them. I couldn't put them in a box and give it meaning. For the first time, I felt a link with you, not out of anger, not out of anxiousness, not out of despise, but by a strange connection. Fate. That word kept me at ease for a while, until I started questioning it just the same. I didn't know if we were somehow connected by fate, but that was the only name I could give it then and for that phrase. I told you before I wasn't exactly happy with the revelation, but you just laughed at me and dismissed my denial with optimism. “At least that was a beginning”, you simply said with that coy smile of yours.
When I went over to the faculty room, the teachers greeted me shyly, perhaps a little afraid of me now as they had stood witnessed to my father's rage, and perhaps because I could sense their shame with their genius way of solving problems. I moved from the door fast enough so I didn't have to see their faces or feel the need to acknowledge them. I would be fine as long as I avoided them. I went straight to Miss Shino's desk. As usual, her smile was kind and no malice could be traced in her. However, I wasn't so sure. Maybe she played the same game as I, and maybe she played it well too. I didn't care much that time. She picked up some of her things and told me to follow her to the library; I froze when she said that you were waiting for us there.
"Chance encounter..." was all that I could say and I felt weak again, as if another punch landed straight to my face again. I think that would have been better since I would have had an excuse to go home, yet that wasn't the case and I couldn't stop my feet from following Miss Shino to the library. It was those familiar heartbeats that became conscious when I saw you with an array of books on the library table.
"Shiroyama-san's going to help us. Three heads are always better than one, right?" I could feel Miss Shino's delight in two handsome boys locked with the presence of her first love, books, and I felt your eyes following me as I sat down in the free seat in front of Miss Shino. I made sure that the stacks of books on the table could hide me from you, yet I could never hide from your voice, could I?
"Let's work together well, Uruha-san."
"Oh, you're quite familiar with each other already, Takashima-kun?"
I really couldn't hide from voices, I figured, so I moved the books to the side, careful not to drop them. The act was for me to smile at Miss Shino properly, but I couldn't help feeling my blood swell when I saw you smirking even behind the fingers that you kept on your lips.
"Ah, not really. I told Shiroyama-kun that he can call me that. Everybody does anyway. It's important he doesn't feel left out, anyway, I was given the duty of guiding him." Smooth. I felt my blood return to normal.
"Then just call me Aoi, Uruha. So I don't feel left out."
Miss Shino giggled at the name. Miss Shino's favorite flower was a hollyhock and she was delighted at simply hearing it. "Your name is Aoi, Shiroyama-san?"
"Just a nickname. My friends back in my old town called me by that name. I'm sorry Miss Shino, but I'll only give Uruha-san here the right to call me that, as my special guide. I hope you're not offended by it." You seemed to know how to handle old ladies well. You almost seemed kind, saying that as you bowed in respect.
"Oh no, I don't mind. But I will keep that information as well, do you mind?"
"I have already heard other people call you that name, Aoi-san." I reverted, making sure I put stress on the name. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Miss Shino's eyes widen in anticipation of your answer, and I slowly drifted to the thought of when this day would finally be over.
"They might have caught the information somewhere, but I never gave them permission to call me that. That makes a difference." You seemed to be comfortable finishing the argument there as you open a book and showed it to Miss Shino. Suddenly I recalled the reason why I was there in the first place. Time is of the essence, I thought. The faster we finished helping the poor professor with enough credentials for an educational license with the translating work, the faster I could get rid of your presence. "Have you decided which selections to translate, Miss Shino?" I inquired with less patience in my voice. Which I think earned me another boastful smile from your lips.
You picked up a thick black book and handed it over to me. You told me the page I should look at and I found out that it was the fables of 15th century writer Aesop that you suggested to Miss Shino earlier.
"I've read some of his works, well, more like had them explained to me by a friend. His fables are simple but the morals are deep and mature. They're essential values in life that knock hard on the realities of human relations." I heard you say as I glide along the titles of Aesop's works. We both looked behind when Miss Shino stood up to guide a student who wanted to borrow a book. The student looked familiar and I believe he was called Matsumoto by his classmates from another class. He looked shy, almost flustered when our eyes met until he hastily walked away. Miss Shino returned to our table with a smile.
"I'm so happy another soul has taken an interest in books. I feel happy whenever I teach in class and when I stay here as a part-time librarian. When I see those kids borrowing books, especially novels, I feel that they will love the experience. You saw that student? He has been borrowing books since the beginning of this year and he's already a familiar face, so I always give him extensions."
"What book did he borrow today?" You asked, more out of necessity than interest. At least that's how it sounded to me.
"'1984' by George Orwell." Miss Shino replied with a smile before flipping through the pages of the book she had left earlier.
A dystopian novel held by a shy boy. Somehow I felt another connection in that description, that dark and silent mind that plans with care, yet without much of a heart.
My mind returned to skimming the rest of the book when you spoke again.
"I hope you would agree with my judgment on the selections I took interest in. They are short fables so I selected five. I put markers on them so you can read them at home." Smooth, you almost sounded like a boss and I was the lowly subordinate hanging to your words. I kept my head low, to make it look like I was focused on the book in front of me. But the truth is I didn't want to look at you, because it pained me. Your eyes were not angry at me, nor were they mocking me, but I knew that in those eyes I would see pity and I would see myself. Yet like a magnet I looked up and our eyes met, locking me in a stare as you explained each fable to me.
"'The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing' gives the moral that appearances are deceiving. We all know about this fact, but too many people still fall for it, which just proves that we still have to be reminded of it. 'The hare with many friends' gives the message that he that has many friends has no friends. Friendship is very important in our lives, yet where does real friendship lie? In a world where everybody can be fooled by appearances, can we trust friendship with all our heart? 'The Groom and the Horse' is, for me, a tragic story, yet this moral is always called for. The moral it gives is that a man may smile yet be a villain. Never trust someone too much. We have friends who smile, yet appearances are deceiving. The fourth fable would be 'The Father and his two daughters'. In this story, the father's daughters have two different wishes and very much contrasting each other. The other one wanted rain, the other wanted the dry season to continue, yet he wanted to make both their wishes come true, and so the moral of the story is that you can't please everybody. The last one is "The Dog and the Wolf", a very interesting conversation between a dog and a wolf about security versus liberty. Both hold weight in our lives, yet we can only choose one. I think it’s important for us to think about this as we'll soon be venturing out to a bigger reality. Tell me, Uruha, what do you say?
I thought hard about whether there was something more to say. What does one say back to things that talk about you? What action do you need to retort to a slap? Another slap? What do you give to darkness when it has already enveloped you? How do you ask for help from light when it seemed to have completely abandoned you? They were all about me, I knew it. You even arranged it cleverly in such a way that the morals connect to phrase them well for me. The attack was swift, even sweetly playing like a bow on the strings of a violin, yet it was painful. It left me gasping for air. Air where you don't exist; a space where I could take off my mask and breathe freely, even if it meant taking a bit of skin off as I pull on it.
I put the book down and closed it with care. Slowly, I gathered my things and stood up. "Let's use Aoi-san's suggestion, Miss Shino. He really has fine judgment, too fine perhaps. Please excuse me, I'm not feeling very well. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye."
Everything seemed to be a blur again and I tried hard to make my feet walk faster, faster than my body could manage. My hands might have turned white as it became knuckles gripping for patience from my mind, as the last image of your face painted that of a sorrowful mother, yet it was abstract and I couldn't decipher the message behind it.
As I walked out of the building, I saw the sun setting beautifully behind the school's roof top. Night would soon fall and I would be at its mercy. As I watched the brightness fade, I stopped in my steps and wondered why, every time you hurt me, every time I tried to get away from you, it would be the same time of the day, with my face turning ugly with suppressed anger, fear and tears. As if by the time you're gone from my sight, the sun bids goodbye as well. I didn't want to admit that you were like a sun to me then, which in its heat and brightness was torturously cracking my mask.
It wouldn't be long before it finally fell into pieces.
Author’s Note:
There you go~ Well, at least things are moving now. And Ruki makes a cameo! Ohoho~ ^^ Still the angsty Uru, uh-huh. But anyway, I’ll update as soon as possible. Getting quite busy with work now. =.=
If anyone is interested in reading other fables of Aesop, please check this site. It’s very nice.
Comments are much appreciated!
Chapters: 6/?
Author: granitemouth
Genre: AU, angst (romance at later events)
Warnings: nothing violent as of the moment.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: AoixUruha
Synopsis: Uruha is the perfect student, with a perfect world and the perfect image. But when the new student comes into class asking him questions he was never ready to answer, Uruha's perfectly crafted life started turn around in a direction he has never mastered.
Comments: Yay? Bad Aoi. Bad Aoi.
Beta: cherryrazor (*3*)
Previous:
CHAPTER 1: (I beg to differ. )
CHAPTER 2: ( Live youth? Whoever thought of that slogan should die. )
CHAPTER 3: ( I'm human and I thought and hoped I would be spared of the thought that as a student with clean records, I didn't commit anything biologically natural in public. )
CHAPTER 4: ( The thing I detest most is the idea of "failure" .)
CHAPTER 5: ( The world is sick, we know it, but we do not do anything about it. Really, we are just too busy with our own lives to care. But you’re not and that was my problem. )
I swore to myself that I would regain my place in that school no matter what. Although you have been bringing this chain of disasters on me, solely me, I swore to myself that I would never fall to the ground. I started wondering how and why it all happened to me: you coming to class that spring; why you had to sit close to me and whisper words I tried to avoid hearing through another voice; and why it was me of all people that you had to target. I started to wonder if we happened to have crossed roads before or if I have committed a stupid offence to somebody unconsciously, because your actions felt like revenge, slowly and painfully wounding me. I though of all of that as I stared at your back as you walked three feet a head of me, beside that solemn sight of cherry blossoms along the walls of the school campus.
My comeback fortunately was less painful, less unnerving. At least before Ms. Shino's class. Coming back to the room, it felt like nothing had changed. There was neither a band to welcome me nor any confetti thrown up the air for my big comeback. I wasn't expecting all of that, it was silly after all. But I guess we all at one point try to think we are really special to some people, although it is a fact that we can only expect so much. Inside, I felt shivers run down my spine. I was truly getting warped in my own game, in my own role and that kind of mindset.
It was all peaceful throughout morning classes. When lunch time came, Mariko, the girl in front of me, poked my bruise with her long fingernails painted in a sapphire blue color.
Curiosity may be the answer as to why people had to be adamant on their own feelings even if it meant dragging another’s ass with them. I presume that a bruise, in whatever glory it presented itself, recalls a feeling of pain and once it is pressed, the surge of pain resurfaces and swivels around that area of the inflicted person. But it is a wonder why this small symbol of pain is, for a lot of people, like a big red button that itches to be pushed, and people will always fall for it. No matter how that person whimpers in pain, they have to touch it to give the curiosity a name.
Perhaps that was how Mariko saw it, a big red button that needed to be pressed to find its function. I secretly winced at the sting of pain from the pressure the finger created. I wanted to show my annoyance at her, but as the gentleman that I was known as I simply gave her a smile and politely said: "No, it doesn't hurt anymore." Then we were both fine with that and she smiled back before taking her bento to take to where her group of friends, who were usually seated in the corner of the room. Soon they would be filling the classroom with giggles and a thing called a migraine would be knocking on my temples.
Miss Shino entering the classroom welcomed the end of the day, our last subject. We discussed the life and the works of Haruki Murakami that day and I enjoyed every single minute of it. I sincerely enjoyed myself listening to her words even though I hated the fact that she always gave me extra work after class, knowing that I was the only one interested in her subject. I was aware that half of the class was busy texting their friends and asking where to meet later or what karaoke place they would be visiting that night. Some were boldly asleep and some were clandestine in finishing their mission in a fantasy world on their mini consoles, yet I couldn't care less. I was absorbed in another space and time of a fantastic author. Miss Shino had a way of explaining words that I could connect very easily, though one may not have read that author's works, she can elaborate the characters’ feelings so well that the feeling was almost similar to the reading experience. I smiled, genuinely I smiled. It were those rare, blissful days in the classroom where I wasn't afraid of my mask falling off because I felt like my mind had legs of its own, leaping through time and spaces between the pages, and I had every right to access it in every way I wanted. In those places, my mask didn't exist and I could freely shove my face in waters of some unknown spring and I would always love the feeling, fresh and anew.
Sometimes it felt like magic.
But magic as a spell was always meant to be broken.
"Next week, we will continue more on Murakami's work. But before I leave please take this with all of you, a proverb which is very important to the theme of the journey in "Kafka on Shore": "In travelling, a companion, in life, compassion". Good evening everyone. Go home safe."
And with that the class was officially over. I heard Miss Shino motion for me to the direction of the faculty room and I knew just then what it had to do with me. I responded with a nod which in relief she replied back with a nod and a smile. I was about to stand up, indolently gathering my things, organizing my books and notebooks by height, my pens by color and pencils by sharpness. Most of the students left excitedly, the guys bouncing off the walls as they locked arms with friends, shouting carelessly in the hallway about arcades and karaoke. The girls usually grouped themselves and waited for one another, while chit-chatting away about small things such as hair color, idols on TV and concert schedules. Little did I know and the classroom scene was all too familiar, with only the two of us breathing the classroom air. I did not want to care, I should not. So I figured feigning your existence would be for the best for my heart, for my already stressed nerves. I snappily put my things inside my small leather bag and stood up, anxious to get out of this zone which was too small for me and you. But it wasn't like you would allow that, I should have known then.
"Chance encounters are what keep us going." I heard you say plainly as the floor screech with your seat pushed aside and your footsteps getting ahead of me. "Kafka, the character Kafka Tamura explained it like that. Interesting, isn't it?" And then you left me again, pondering for words.
Chance encounters. I felt those two words pounding on me like a gong as they echoed again and again, yet I couldn't quite grasp the meaning of them. I couldn't put them in a box and give it meaning. For the first time, I felt a link with you, not out of anger, not out of anxiousness, not out of despise, but by a strange connection. Fate. That word kept me at ease for a while, until I started questioning it just the same. I didn't know if we were somehow connected by fate, but that was the only name I could give it then and for that phrase. I told you before I wasn't exactly happy with the revelation, but you just laughed at me and dismissed my denial with optimism. “At least that was a beginning”, you simply said with that coy smile of yours.
When I went over to the faculty room, the teachers greeted me shyly, perhaps a little afraid of me now as they had stood witnessed to my father's rage, and perhaps because I could sense their shame with their genius way of solving problems. I moved from the door fast enough so I didn't have to see their faces or feel the need to acknowledge them. I would be fine as long as I avoided them. I went straight to Miss Shino's desk. As usual, her smile was kind and no malice could be traced in her. However, I wasn't so sure. Maybe she played the same game as I, and maybe she played it well too. I didn't care much that time. She picked up some of her things and told me to follow her to the library; I froze when she said that you were waiting for us there.
"Chance encounter..." was all that I could say and I felt weak again, as if another punch landed straight to my face again. I think that would have been better since I would have had an excuse to go home, yet that wasn't the case and I couldn't stop my feet from following Miss Shino to the library. It was those familiar heartbeats that became conscious when I saw you with an array of books on the library table.
"Shiroyama-san's going to help us. Three heads are always better than one, right?" I could feel Miss Shino's delight in two handsome boys locked with the presence of her first love, books, and I felt your eyes following me as I sat down in the free seat in front of Miss Shino. I made sure that the stacks of books on the table could hide me from you, yet I could never hide from your voice, could I?
"Let's work together well, Uruha-san."
"Oh, you're quite familiar with each other already, Takashima-kun?"
I really couldn't hide from voices, I figured, so I moved the books to the side, careful not to drop them. The act was for me to smile at Miss Shino properly, but I couldn't help feeling my blood swell when I saw you smirking even behind the fingers that you kept on your lips.
"Ah, not really. I told Shiroyama-kun that he can call me that. Everybody does anyway. It's important he doesn't feel left out, anyway, I was given the duty of guiding him." Smooth. I felt my blood return to normal.
"Then just call me Aoi, Uruha. So I don't feel left out."
Miss Shino giggled at the name. Miss Shino's favorite flower was a hollyhock and she was delighted at simply hearing it. "Your name is Aoi, Shiroyama-san?"
"Just a nickname. My friends back in my old town called me by that name. I'm sorry Miss Shino, but I'll only give Uruha-san here the right to call me that, as my special guide. I hope you're not offended by it." You seemed to know how to handle old ladies well. You almost seemed kind, saying that as you bowed in respect.
"Oh no, I don't mind. But I will keep that information as well, do you mind?"
"I have already heard other people call you that name, Aoi-san." I reverted, making sure I put stress on the name. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Miss Shino's eyes widen in anticipation of your answer, and I slowly drifted to the thought of when this day would finally be over.
"They might have caught the information somewhere, but I never gave them permission to call me that. That makes a difference." You seemed to be comfortable finishing the argument there as you open a book and showed it to Miss Shino. Suddenly I recalled the reason why I was there in the first place. Time is of the essence, I thought. The faster we finished helping the poor professor with enough credentials for an educational license with the translating work, the faster I could get rid of your presence. "Have you decided which selections to translate, Miss Shino?" I inquired with less patience in my voice. Which I think earned me another boastful smile from your lips.
You picked up a thick black book and handed it over to me. You told me the page I should look at and I found out that it was the fables of 15th century writer Aesop that you suggested to Miss Shino earlier.
"I've read some of his works, well, more like had them explained to me by a friend. His fables are simple but the morals are deep and mature. They're essential values in life that knock hard on the realities of human relations." I heard you say as I glide along the titles of Aesop's works. We both looked behind when Miss Shino stood up to guide a student who wanted to borrow a book. The student looked familiar and I believe he was called Matsumoto by his classmates from another class. He looked shy, almost flustered when our eyes met until he hastily walked away. Miss Shino returned to our table with a smile.
"I'm so happy another soul has taken an interest in books. I feel happy whenever I teach in class and when I stay here as a part-time librarian. When I see those kids borrowing books, especially novels, I feel that they will love the experience. You saw that student? He has been borrowing books since the beginning of this year and he's already a familiar face, so I always give him extensions."
"What book did he borrow today?" You asked, more out of necessity than interest. At least that's how it sounded to me.
"'1984' by George Orwell." Miss Shino replied with a smile before flipping through the pages of the book she had left earlier.
A dystopian novel held by a shy boy. Somehow I felt another connection in that description, that dark and silent mind that plans with care, yet without much of a heart.
My mind returned to skimming the rest of the book when you spoke again.
"I hope you would agree with my judgment on the selections I took interest in. They are short fables so I selected five. I put markers on them so you can read them at home." Smooth, you almost sounded like a boss and I was the lowly subordinate hanging to your words. I kept my head low, to make it look like I was focused on the book in front of me. But the truth is I didn't want to look at you, because it pained me. Your eyes were not angry at me, nor were they mocking me, but I knew that in those eyes I would see pity and I would see myself. Yet like a magnet I looked up and our eyes met, locking me in a stare as you explained each fable to me.
"'The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing' gives the moral that appearances are deceiving. We all know about this fact, but too many people still fall for it, which just proves that we still have to be reminded of it. 'The hare with many friends' gives the message that he that has many friends has no friends. Friendship is very important in our lives, yet where does real friendship lie? In a world where everybody can be fooled by appearances, can we trust friendship with all our heart? 'The Groom and the Horse' is, for me, a tragic story, yet this moral is always called for. The moral it gives is that a man may smile yet be a villain. Never trust someone too much. We have friends who smile, yet appearances are deceiving. The fourth fable would be 'The Father and his two daughters'. In this story, the father's daughters have two different wishes and very much contrasting each other. The other one wanted rain, the other wanted the dry season to continue, yet he wanted to make both their wishes come true, and so the moral of the story is that you can't please everybody. The last one is "The Dog and the Wolf", a very interesting conversation between a dog and a wolf about security versus liberty. Both hold weight in our lives, yet we can only choose one. I think it’s important for us to think about this as we'll soon be venturing out to a bigger reality. Tell me, Uruha, what do you say?
I thought hard about whether there was something more to say. What does one say back to things that talk about you? What action do you need to retort to a slap? Another slap? What do you give to darkness when it has already enveloped you? How do you ask for help from light when it seemed to have completely abandoned you? They were all about me, I knew it. You even arranged it cleverly in such a way that the morals connect to phrase them well for me. The attack was swift, even sweetly playing like a bow on the strings of a violin, yet it was painful. It left me gasping for air. Air where you don't exist; a space where I could take off my mask and breathe freely, even if it meant taking a bit of skin off as I pull on it.
I put the book down and closed it with care. Slowly, I gathered my things and stood up. "Let's use Aoi-san's suggestion, Miss Shino. He really has fine judgment, too fine perhaps. Please excuse me, I'm not feeling very well. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye."
Everything seemed to be a blur again and I tried hard to make my feet walk faster, faster than my body could manage. My hands might have turned white as it became knuckles gripping for patience from my mind, as the last image of your face painted that of a sorrowful mother, yet it was abstract and I couldn't decipher the message behind it.
As I walked out of the building, I saw the sun setting beautifully behind the school's roof top. Night would soon fall and I would be at its mercy. As I watched the brightness fade, I stopped in my steps and wondered why, every time you hurt me, every time I tried to get away from you, it would be the same time of the day, with my face turning ugly with suppressed anger, fear and tears. As if by the time you're gone from my sight, the sun bids goodbye as well. I didn't want to admit that you were like a sun to me then, which in its heat and brightness was torturously cracking my mask.
It wouldn't be long before it finally fell into pieces.
Author’s Note:
There you go~ Well, at least things are moving now. And Ruki makes a cameo! Ohoho~ ^^ Still the angsty Uru, uh-huh. But anyway, I’ll update as soon as possible. Getting quite busy with work now. =.=
If anyone is interested in reading other fables of Aesop, please check this site. It’s very nice.
Comments are much appreciated!