http://clampfix.fanworks.net/rgv-fix/firstlas.txt </head><body><pre>First, Last, and Only Sunlight: Ashura-ou's Story by: Kyra Ryuoh "Oh, Ashura-ou! What will I ever do with you?" Shashi gasps with the last throes of laughter, her head thrown back, shaking. She had been reclining against a plush cushion of vermilion and now, she stands up with difficulty, the swelling belly throwing her off balance. "Please, don't bother. I'll leave." The back of my neck tingles as Sashi's scrutinizing black eyes follow me, wondering if I knew of her affair with Taishakuten. Who could not? I clench my fists, restraining from the sudden impulse to roar, to wail, to do anything but to stand there behind a mask of false smiles and cold silence. Patience. Once my heir is born, all this matters not--the last of my line. For you, Little One, I would give up all. My life, my kingdom, my honor, even---no, best not to think of it. Yet, I am engulfed in fire, a roaring conflagration of pure, unquenchable pain which consumes me in crashing waves. A sea of fire. Striding past Sashi, I pause before the open door. Her arms extended, she appears as though on the verge of touching me, with begging eyes yet too proud to speak in humility. Catching the edge of my white cloak, I sweep it around my shoulders in a whirl of swan feathers, walking swiftly away. Cringing at my own footsteps, a clip-clop of metal soled boots, I suddenly break into a sprint. The west wind cools my forehead, beaded with sweat, as my midnight hair streams behind, an unfurled banner or a tail of a black comet. "Back. Back to Eden." My lips form the words, yet no sound issues forth from the closed throat. My dry tongue, cracked, is unwieldy dust in my mouth as my pointed ears pick up the whispers, the giggles circulating about the court. Yet, the rumors, the lies continue to pursue me--I cannot out run them--me, discussed like some prized bull or a coveted bauble which, upon closer inspection, is false. Some sight, a king, running away. Some king you are. A cantankerous voice rattles the walls of my brain, a resounding slap across the face. "I never wished to be king." This is not an excuse, not for cowardice. "I did not ask for the responsibilities!" No one can hear me. "All I wanted to be was. . . myself." Caged in a gilded prison of shinning gold, but a prison nonetheless. Raped. Yes, raped and defiled in mind and body through an arranged alliance of untruth. To procreate life from such loveless sterility! What jest this world is! Laughter erupts though I cover my mouth with both hands, trying to stuff it back down my throat, as dry tears sting the corners of my eyes. Who am I? Ashura-ou, a mystery concealed to even me--an eternal puzzle box. My legs fail me, stumbling over a jutting piece of rock, so incongruous to the smooth path of masonry. Yet, I lie there, still, in exhaustion. Helpless, unable to lift a single finger to save my life. I close my eyes, wishing my life could slowly be drained, a flowing water, that can sink past the rough stones, transcending the hard boundaries of my body, to be slowly absorbed by the bountiful earth until there was no trace of "me." To simply drift off into never ending sleep, blanketed in darkness, silence. The lament of the blue bird--shall I call out to him?--threads past the ice walls of soul, coiling into a bright little ball with the warmth of a thousand suns. Each note bursting with golden radiance, forming into lovely little fairies with translucent wings, hovering behind the dark curtain of my closed lids. Beneath their tiny kisses, a small bud of light germinates--for an instant before shriveling into a blackened monster of death. My soul is barren afterall. "I don't want this. Please, no more. . ." I cannot conjure enough strength to stir my lips, instead, I rail with the silence in my heart. Pain blossoms between my brows, an ugly red splotch that stains the pure alabaster of water lilies--innocence. "Ashura. . ." A cool hand brushes my fevered forehead; I drink in the soft voice, welcoming the cool relief as a man dying of thirst greets water, grateful for the sanctuary. The small hands flutter, settling butterflies on my shoulders, to roll my body over on to my back. I dare not open my eyes. Every nerve, sensitized, is tuned to this imaginary being. So acutely aware of her touch, the light fingertips barely brushing my skin in timid reverence, and the tingles it sends down my spine. From her touch, warmth and coolness spreads, mingling, stabilizing, and as her fingers trace the outline of my lips, I catch her hand gently, to press my lips against the palm of her silken hand. Orange blossoms, her scent, forever engraved in my brain. I sense her alarm. She tries to draw away; no, I refuse to! At first, as I reopen my eyes, the sight of the impossibly blue sky greets me, shot with clouds threaded gold. Silhouetted is the elusive figure I had only dared to dream, her face locked away in the dim recesses of my brain--until now. With a renewed burst of energy, I sit up, one knee propping up to my chest as I lace my quivering fingers through hers, pressing tearful kisses over our joined hands. I am young and green again, naive, in our haven created by the voice of her eyes--I'm drowning in their sunlit depths of dark, clear brown--seeing my reflection. Yes, from her eyes, I am beautiful. For her--with her, I am human. I am myself. She had cut her long shimmering hair--ebony streaked with chestnut--to my length. No matter, she is lovelier for it. Kaolin, one of Sashi's many cousins. Far younger--eternities grow old without my ever becoming tired of her, my childhood sweet. To touch her once more would be heaven, to bury my face in her hair; but I restrain myself. She is silent, staring at me with teary wistefulness. We had never had the need to speak, just being together is enough. She is the one to shatter the silence. "How--are you." She still stammers. "Better, now that you're here." For the first time in ages, I feel the corners of my mouth curve into a smile, its own volition; a wonder my face did not crack with unuse. "What are you doing here?" "This IS my castle." I begin to grin, albeit foolishly, but I care not. Impulsively, I stretch out and lay my head in her lap. She attempts to squirm out, discomfited, but I halt her attempts with another grin. Centuries fall away. The prophetic visions, forever a curse, stop, and I can finally gaze upon the present without obscurity. She smiles back, her smile transforming her into the loveliest of angels. I fancy her as. . . no. Why even pretend? I am already bound in marriage I had never quite consented. Not everything is as it was. Yet, the scent of fresh morning lingers, and how we care-free were beneath the shower of sakura petals. . . beneath the gnarled branches of the cherry blossom laden with flowers full in bloom--pink snow. "I thought you had never wanted to speak to me again." I still hold her hand entrapped within mine. "No. I never said that." Her eyes dart about, avoiding mine. "Why would I have come back?" "That's what I have been wondering." I wait expectantly for her to provide the answer, delaying to ask one question searing my heart. "I--I just wanted to see you again. That's all." Tears shimmer in her eyes. "You're crying." "No, I'm not." She hides behind an ill-made facade of smiles. "See, I'm smiling." To enfold her in my arms, and to shelter her from the world... such dreams! She would not allow me. I can wait no longer. "Why did you leave?" "I just thought I needed some space to--" "No. I want the truth." Then, more softly, "Please." A pause. "You should know it better than I." Her voice snags slightly on the way out. "No, I don't. All these years have passed and I still cannot understand." "Please don't make me--" "I'm not making you do anything you do not want." "This was a mistake." "Is it?" Our palms are slick with sweat. "Come on." "I just thought you were pitying me--humoring me perhaps. You were in love with Sashi, it was so obvious, and I did not want to get it the way of your--your--" her voice breaks off. In a barely audible whisper, "Your happiness. . ." I could have cursed. Shashi? How could I have loved a cold, manipulative woman thriving on ambition--starved for power? How could I have loved anyone else when my chest still throbs with pricking pain from her rejection? I burst out in silent laughter, hysteria edging in, head thrown back. My shoulders shake beneath the light silk trimmed with gold. "Someone might see us." Kaolin's brows furrow in concern. "So?" "Think about your reputation. Your credibility as a leader." "I don't care a damn about my reputation." My laughter subsides, drifting off, solemn. "You were the one I love. Then and now." I chuckle, "God, it feel strange even to say it." "But Sashi--" "Sashi be damned!" "You married her!" "Only because you left and father--it doesn't matter." "I won't be your mistress." "I'm not asking it of you." Sober. "I'm not asking anything." With my eyes, I plead. Be at my side, Kaolin. Be with me always, I realize I'm selfish. But please don't go away! I would not be able to bear it. Not this time. Not again. . . "How long will you stay?" I sit upright, releasing her hand. "I don't know." Her eyes flicker over me, as to absorb my features, committing them to memory. Memory had never been the problem for me--always too vivid. She reaches out briefly to tousle my hair; then, as always, straighten it, running her fingers through the length, letting the silky strands slip through her elegant fingers. The caressing stroke of her fingertips against my cheeks is more than I can bear, I lean into her caress, tears stinging my eyes. "I had better get back. Father will probably worry." She stops herself, fear in her voice, turning aside her face. Too late. I had already seen the stark pain outlining her features--showing as much as I am currently feeling. I can only hope my face does not betray me as well. "I'll escort you." We leap to our feet. I stand three inches taller than her. Tentatively, I reach for her hand. When she does not object, our fingers entwine once more--how I long to rest my head stubbornly on her shoulder while she pretends to protest. "I'll leave tomorrow morning." "All right." Silence. "Fare well." She disengages at the dreaded door. "Fare. . .fare well, Kaolin." The syllables are iron weights dropped from my mouth; I mean every word of it. "Ashura. . ." Will I ever erase the sound of my name in her achingly familiar whisper? Expunge her--a part of myself--from my memory? As I gaze off into the dancing shadows, into a time that will never occur, my life is exhaled in a single breath. The essence of who I am will leave--or remain--forever with her. Will it ever rain sakura again. . . ? </pre><p><a href="./">Back</a></p><p><a href=http://www.dreamhost.com/donate.cgi?id=216><img border=0 alt="Donate towards our web hosting bill!" src=https://secure.newdream.net/donate1.gif></a></p></body></html>