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By Nadya Neklioudova
Augus t13, 1998
He stood still in the sunset light, his loose hair blowing around him like silent flames, akin to the fire that burned around him, and the fire that was eating his soul. Like an angel of death on the battlefield, he stood, a shadow in the light of the dying sun. Eyes closed, he surveyed the area with the eyes of his mind. If someone could look into his soul at that moment, he would see the golden eyes reflecting blood, a sea of blood. And tears. Silently, his soul's tired gaze travelled from one dead soul to the
other, all moaning in pain. Pain that he caused. His soul's eyes looked almost sorrowful for them, while his physical face betrayed no feelings.The dead knew their murderer. Rising from the earth, they moved towards him, in their last chance for revenge. They knew they would succeed. They were joined by other souls, all in pain, all wanting revenge like he wanted blood. And they would have it, they will catch him, lock him in his past, then torture his soul with pain like he tortured their bodies. One strike at a time, for every one that he killed. And the pain would never cease, it will linger, adding until he could not take it anymore. Then he would join them.
He saw them, their faces cringing in pain, the light of the setting sun not reaching them, the dark light of death illuminating them instead. He knew every one of the faces, he looked into each of them when he had made his killing strike. They were imprinted in his conscience with blood.
He saw them moving toward him. They were deathly silent, but he knew what they meant for him. He knew, and had accepted it.
The sun set, and slowly the shadows of death creeped up all around him. Then he saw her. One soul, lingering behind the army of others. She looked like winter herself, beautiful but cold, looking back at him, pleading. But for what? He couldn't hear.
The realization struck him like a lightning bolt of ice. Why couldn't he hear her voice, the one that was closest to him? And why couldn't he reach her?
Then he realized. Her pleading eyes weren't looking at him alone, they were meant for every one of the dark souls that moved towards him. The silent army of death halted, and faced her.
Then he heard it. Her voice, as real as he was, flowing, falling like snowflakes to all of them, along with the scent of white plums. He stiffened for a moment as he remembered that smell.
"Stop. Please, stop."
And they heard. In a silent question they turned to her. And she gave them her pleading answer just as silently.
He shuddered at the deathly silence.
The death army mixed together into one shadow, joining his own shadow. Just like a shadow always follows a person, his guilt would always follow him, a dark shadow of his past. He looked at her one last time, knowing that it would be the last. He saw her clearly, her kimono stained with blood, but her face smiling, a smile he would remember forever.
"Kenshin..." One word, meaning everything.
But she never called him that before...
Suddenly she became a cloud of swirling snowflakes, with no trace of hellish blood, just beautiful, heaven-white snow. The snow smiled at him again, then melted. All except for one - a small snowflake drifted to him on an unknown breeze, and settled in a corner of his heart.
Kenshin opened his eyes. Turning back to face the fading sunset, his violet eyes gazing into the remaining light. It was beautiful, a rainbow of gold, pink and purple on the flying clouds. He finally saw the sunset as it was - after years of seeing only red, the color of blood in the fading daylight.
He slowly walked toward the sunset, its light gleaming back at him from the sword he left behind on the battlefield. He never turned back to see it.
Kenshin walked slowly toward the light, its last reflections illuminating his handsome face, lighting the rest of the world so that there seemed to be no shadows. But he knew that his shadow was still following him.