http://clampfix.fanworks.net/rgv-fix/selfsac1.txt </head><body><pre> Alone. The whisper of the trees sweep across the night, wrapping their relentless taunts around fragile memories as spidery white arms grope at the star less sky. What if? They probe the secret with cold fingers quivering with delight. What if...? The carpet of dead leaves crunch with each step. A thousand mistakes, a world of regrets. Dead. They're all dead because of me. The chant of transparent blue wraiths weave a web of bricking pain. Their words are tiny tongues of blue flame, licking, nibbling at the tiny nerves imbedded in my brain. "Sing. Sing the song without words." Their fleshless faces melt together. "Sing the song of loneliness." Frozen lips singe cold kisses across my skin, burning through the layer of white tunic. "Sing!" Scalding laughter spews forth. "Sing to Heaven. . . " Ashura. A white faced ghost peers timidly up from the inky pool of darkness on the soft, leaf-strewn ground, then disappears beneath a cloak of ripples. "Who is that?" Water sloshes through my mud-caked toes. "Yasha?" Ashura! It can't be real. It feel its soft breath caress my cheek, stirring the loose tendrils of escaped hair. Father. . . mother. . . I wish I had never existed; then no one would have died. Why am I still here? "Ashura!" two slender arms wrap around me, enfolding me in their warmth. "Kujaku!" "Hey, what's wrong?" his soft violet eyes reflect my wan face. "Let me see those big puppy eyes." "I'm no puppy!" My face cracks as I stretch stiff lips into a twisted parody of a smile. Shurato hums softly inside my cold veins, singing of never-ending pain. "Kujaku." My mouth forms the words yet no sound issues forth. I hide behind a maks of false smiles. I close my eyes, wishing my life could be exhaled in a sigh, longing to sink into the soft, boggy ground, cradled in a cocoon of soft vines. To close my eyes and never wake up, blanketed in silence, nothingness, and peace. Onward, Ashura. Onward to Ashura-jou. "Where's your papa?" he alights on a boulder, facing me, one knee propped up to his chest between his laced fingers. "What are you doing here?" I change the subject. Yasha. I cringe. Far away in a cot, in drugged sleep, with his long, black hair spread over the white linen pillow with the rest of the stars. Far away from danger, from me. I swallow the tears. He'll be frantic with worry when he awakes, but at least Yasha will be safe. Kujaku's long fingered hand motions me forward. Our eyes meet. He nods, curving his lips into a soft smile. Yes, we understand. We are alike. "Where are you going?" "To Ashura Castle." Then, more softly. "Home. . . " He leaps lightly to his feet and scoops me up in his arms. I admire the grace in his simple motions, the elegance of his features. As his silky black wings span across the night sky, I cling to his neck, gazing at the tiny points of light flickering in the villages. Kujaku, the jester of a thousand jokes, falls strangely silent. But then, I'm not the same, scampering Ashura I use to be. Zenmijou towers over the horizon and beneath, like its reflection in clear waters, lies my sanctuary, Ashura-jou. We stand gazing into its depth, wrapped in awkward silence, at its edge. More still and silent than the smoothest piece of glass. Taishakuten had won---but more importantly, Yasha will live. All the blood shed had begun, and will end with me. Our world had been formed from the first drops of our emperor's blood. Mine will be only one among many which will be shed for its preservation---or so I would like to think. As Kujaku lands, I dismount lightly from his arms. Before passing unseen through the hulking guards, I shoot back a furtive glance back at his melancholy figure, jostled yet alone, silhouetted against the midnight blue. I wave a small good-bye before entering the crowded court yard. Wrapped in my woolen brown cloak, nobody notices me, shadow darting across the dark recesses of the castle. Today is anniversary of Taishakuten's victory and my father's death; the day my mother's betrayal finally bore fruit. I push away her floating face---her lovely face contorted with rage as the glinting dagger arced through the air. "YOU! You do not belong here!" Her shriek still reverberates in my ear, echoing across the stark walls of my skull. How queer this all was, to celebrate an emperor's death and a tyrant's reign. The festivities is a lead weight in my heart; I cannot breathe. In the balcony, my twin brother--kind, gentle, blushing Ten with his shimmering auburn hair and nervous stammer--waves at the melee. He would be a fair ruler. Mother's laughter draws blood as I watch her lean her head against Taishakuten's broad shoulders. Taishakuten. My mortal enemy--I can never forgive him for the suffering he had inflicted. For the ruthless carnage countless innocents. For Yasha and his massacred clan. He is handsome, though, in a different way. His face is not cruel, yet so many things are not what they appear to be. His long, golden hair, like Chinese silk, shines beneath the white lamps--like Father's gold trimmed armor. Cringing at his third eye, a queer gold of the Ashura Clan, I skulk into the inner chambers, away from the grandiose scene. My footsteps echo down the stair case as I run, a pitter-patter of soft rain drops until I leap to the bottom floor. The familiar sign of the six armed monster grins up at me, a frighteningly stark relief, from the marble tiles. Don't lose heart! Have courage. There is no turning back! Yet, I feel my entire body quiver like an aspen leaf, fragile. I would shatter into a thousand, sparkling fragments had someone touched me just now. Yasha. I would never ever hurt you. Mustering my courage, I step on to the circular disk-like formation. A flash of blinding white light encompasses me, swallowing me whole. I shield my eyes to no avail. I am sinking---sinking past the floor and the material world. No longer can I feel its coldness against my feet--its solidness. The clear, viscous fluid is warm as it embraces me. It closes above my head, encasing me, filling my lungs. I can breathe. "Rest, my little one." The translucent figure of Ashura-ou reaches out to tousles my hair---he is magnificent---my father. The guardian god of war is human. I cannot keep my eyes open. Such infusing peace! I close my eyes to the blanketing darkness as I dissolve into a deep, dreamless sleep. A one that even Yamato could not break. </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>