Work Text:
Tachihara Michizō: Soiled Sorrow
Today, the cycle started again.
My sorrow soiled, as the snow fell, and soiled once more as the wind came and blew the crystalline flakes away once again. Just as the day before. An endless cycle of sorrow, of remorse and of guilt.
Hair of black walks by as I watch the snow travel far away, such as the dandelions of a spring field flutters away, travelling alongside the beautiful butterflies, carrying with them the wish of a young boy. A dream to be known, not as a brother, but as himself. A wish I once carried, in a time long before, in a much different life to the one led by me now.
The hair of black pulls me away from thoughts of my soiled sorrow.
Hair that is mafia black suddenly evolves into something much more. A mask covering their mouth. The colour of an arctic fox's fur. Just like the snow that once fell. Just like the snow that has gotten away, carried away by gusts of winds that neither of us can fight. And yet, we try.
The person of white masks, someone who hides emotions so true and pure, and I, a boy with a lost dream, fighting amongst the same ranks. Taking orders and carrying them out, for that is our common relation. To do whatever we have to, to bring honour, redemption, and wealth into the pockets of our higher ups, our purpose givers, our life givers.
We argue, we fight, and yet, we love. We dance, we sing, and we give our hearts to the other. Hearts that were once as cold as the snow that used to befall the ground on a cold winter's day, that soiled my sorrow, and that were blown far away from this life by winds too strong…broken by love and unionship, as the sun set.
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Akutagawa Gin: Little Sister.
In the depths of night, in a time forgotten by all but two,a beautiful soul cried. A once beautiful soul cried through the night, in the cold, missing everything that most others are guaranteed in this unfair life. The sorrow filled soul, a youthful girl, dressed in ripped and filth covered clothes, clutching her hunger-filled stomach, as she cried over a room filled with blood and misery, the memories of people who were her friends. Dead, despite being children, and the one child who remained had no idea why God had forsaken them.
For God was taught to be merciful to those who were innocent, and yet here were her friends, the ones a once pure, and beautiful soul wept for…Life is unfair and cruel to those born with less. God holds no regard for the poor, the downtrodden, His children.
Amongst these cries and revelations, a singular sentence broke its way out of the girl’s mouth, “I don’t mind dying now,” it said.
…
Years later, and I am still a beautiful soul, crying in the night, when all, but I, have retired to sleep. Crying not for the fallen, but for the living. For the people who, much like myself, don’t have such luxuries, such as seeing the golden sun, floating in azure sky’s, but rather a pale moon, that holds a certain amount of loneliness in its stolen glow. And yet, I find myself with someone.
A woman, one with hair that pierces through the darkness, like a beacon of hope, for something better in this life. Something to live for.
And so, I live on. Spending the nights doing what I am told, as she follows closely behind, like a shepherd herding together her little lambs, or rather a hound, chasing after a sly fox, for sport, or for fun. Over time, I find myself feeling a spec of joy, as she continues to smile, her eyes shimmering in a way that could rival the stars that hang in the night sky. I suddenly find myself being okay with never seeing the sun as it radiates a never ending happiness down upon the people who can bear to stand in the light without getting burnt, for I have found a star instead. A star who has made me believe once again in the God I so deeply believed abandoned me all those years ago.
Suddenly, I find myself crying once again, not from sorrow, but from fear of losing her, my light, and my love. And for that fear, I find myself kneeling before my bedside, my hands clasped as I beg for the mercy of God.
With the love I felt, I could do nothing but pray…
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Higuchi Ichiyō: Tree Shade
In the bright light of a summer’s noon, a shrine stands tall. Kneeling before the structure is a girl, one’s whose eyes shimmer light into the night sky, as she prays in the shade of a trembling elm leaves. Her remorse smooths over as she resides by the torii, as it towered above all the surrounding tree’s, the deep red colour slowly withering away after years of no maintenance. No one there to sooth its pain, or to help save it from the inevitable decay it will face as time goes on…And yet, the remorse she feels is a dark, heavy one. She isn’t fit for this life, the one that’s spent festering and revelling in the darkness created by shadows and hearts that have never even graced the surface of the sunlight.
Despite this, she perseveres. She represses her remorse, her guilt for leading such a life, especially with a sister at home. Carrying out orders, watching as more and more youths get taken in, conditioned to become the dogs for the older, wiser people. Watching as people get their hands dirty, just to put money into her hands, and the hands of the other higher, superior forces within the darkness of their city.
As the day changes from night, back to day, she endures her pain, her suffering, and her guilt. Her life has no provenance beyond this. She has no place anywhere anymore. Too bright for the dark, too dark for the light. So she perseveres.
…
It was one evening when I met him. A boy, simple looking, with a bandaid over his nose, and a jacket of forest green. He was loud, and brash, and eager to follow orders, as if already conditioned to our lifestyle, our livelihood.
The pale moon was high in the sky as I gave my orders. A raid. Simple enough, but he carried them out perfectly, lead bullets raining down on the enemy like a winter’s storm. He was wonderful…he was magnificent. And he belonged. A true mafioso among the rest.
He talked a lot, waving his gun around, telling jokes as we walked together, acting as if I belonged…I did belong. I belonged by his side, joking and laughing as I gave him orders like a lap dog. He gave me my purpose, just as my orders gave him his, and it was wonderful.
And as I sat down by the grand shrine gate once again, I found that the light that shines down on the green shade of his jacket soothes my remorse.
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Homecoming
In the coming nights, away from the ports, where the posts are dry and spiders weave their webs in time to capture and devour their prey, three people sit in the shade of the trees, looking upon a meadow of flowers. The three are talking, joyfully joking together as they indulge in the company of others, rather than being isolated underneath the almost celestial moonlight.
The wind blows against them lightly, a slight breeze as they move closer to one another, seeking warmth and a sense of belonging. Amongst the trio, there were no ill feelings, no sorrow for could have been, no mourning and resentment towards a greater presence, and no remorse for the life they lead. A life of darkness, filled with coldness, hatred, and a natural destruction of anything pure, and yet, under the circumstances, without even the slightest amount of light to aid it, an unlikely romance has blossomed, and they couldn't be happier to be able to find a home with each other.
A home where they can feel their sorrows, cry with an open heart, and express their guilt and remorse for the past and present. The perfect place for them to live on together, hiding in the shade of the city, watching as the light is kept from them by the strong gusts of winds, with a sense of relief that, no matter what, they will have each other.