The Sheathing of the Sword [DRAFT; DISCARDED]

Heartbreak and New Aches

The young asian trudged down the sodden Tokyo sidewalk, his eyes downcast and uncaring about what he stumbled into. His perpetually-messy raven hair was plastered all about his head, the drenching onslaught of rain pouring drearily all about him. He had just left a sake shop, his head all abuzz with liquor. The boy wasn't even old enough to be drinking, a few months shy of the legal age of 20.

That didn't matter to him, though, especially at the moment. His girlfriend, Kikyou, broke off their nearly two-year relationship on dubious grounds. She had berated him, telling him he was simply too nice to her and that he should have acted angry instead of keeping his emotions to himself. Kikyou questioned why he didn't confront her when he found out she was seeing someone else. She wanted to know why her actions didn't upset or anger him, why she couldn't get through to him.

 He had been confused. 'Does she want to cause issues between us?' he thought. 'Does she intentionally try to anger me?' 

She went on and on, her Japanese fluent and passionate, emphasizing her anger with him for his lack of anger. "Why are you distancing yourself from me?" she had screamed. "Why don't you just be angry when you're angry!?"

"Because I love you," he had said. He was rewarded with a slap, tears breaking free and rolling down her face, and harsh, bitter words that haunted him ever since.

"You're a fool, Kyoji," she had spat, "An utter fool. How can you love me? Love does not exist. I used to think it did, but time taught me a far more harsh lesson that I had thought possible. Love isn't real. Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise, Kyoji, before you hurt more than you should."

She had left him then, left him in his confusion and hurt, and he could only think over what she had said, almost obsessively.

Love does not exist.

That had been half a day ago. Kyoji had wondered what to do with himself since, trying to distract himself. Each endeavour proved fruitless, ultimately reminding him of her and the time they had spent together. In hindsight, it had been a rather foolish idea to partake together in every activity the city had to offer them. When all was said and done, everything would remind him of this. He hadn't prepared for that, though. He hadn't ever expected them to go their separate ways.

"I'll love you forever," she had said once, lying against his chest, her voice barely a whisper. "I always will."

At the time, he thought nothing of it. He knew that she loved him. He loved her as well. No, he still loved her. Stroking her hair then, he has said he loved her too, and that their love was as beautiful and selfless as that of the sun and the moon's. She had smiled at that, a small, comforting smile, and he had felt himself return it without hesitation.

Kyoji shook his head. Love does not exist. She hadn't meant it. His heart ached, and for what he didn't know. Was it because he hated her? Or did he love her regardless of what she had done? He felt as though he should hate her, as though she were the most undesirable concept he could have dreamt up. Even now, in his anger and sorrow, he couldn't bring himself to associate her with feelings like disgust and hatred. 

No, those emotions he saved for himself.

'How could you be so stupid, Kyoji?' he had mentally berated himself. 'How could you be so blind? She is beautiful and smart and kind and caring. The fact that she was all this and more should have set off alarms!' Kyoji's mother had always told him stories as a young boy about powerful creatures, cruel and devastatingly clever, that disguised themselves as beautiful women to get close to men before ruining their lives. 'Kitsune', his mother had warned, 'beautiful but deadly. Do not fall for looks alone, my sweet child, lest you be ensnared by wicked temptation.'