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The Rain's Stopped

Discussion in 'Creative Archive' started by Yoshimitsu, Aug 4, 2010.

  1. Yoshimitsu

    Former Moderator

    A more personal take on Yoshimitsu. His thoughts and feelings as he's confronted with everything that he's done.

    The Rain's Stopped

    Yoshimitsu stood there, the wind ruffling his hair and clothes, the light rain collecting on his skin and clothes, the twilight rapidly fading to darkness. Almost fitting, that he would choose to come to this place when the weather was so dismall. It was long overdue. Something he hadn't given much thought to at first, but the more he considered it, the more he realised he should. The blue haired boy took a step forward, his trainers squelching slightly in the mud, and looked down. He dropped to one knee, brushing the ivy from the gravestone in front of him.


    A Loyal Friend

    A Loving Heart

    Clen. Vincent rarely mentioned him. Yoshimitsu could remember, the boy with the spiked up purple hair and the leather headband that covered the top half of his eyes. Back then, when their family had been on an airship. Clen had been the one Vincent had bonded with. That wasn't long after their first visit to the other world. It wasn't long before Lord Dran took control. That time, the worst time Yoshimitsu had experienced. That fight. The rush. The adrenaline, even when his mind was being manipulated and coerced into being something else. Exhilirating. Terrifying. Even the feel of his own sword sliding through his ribcage.

    Yoshimitsu shuddered.

    It disgusted him that he had enjoyed it so much.

    Vincent had loved the other boy. Yoshimitsu knew that. And he knew it must have hurt to talk about him, to even think about him. Clen had died trying to save Vincent. He had risked and lost everything. Lord Dran had shaken Vincent's life, ruined Yoshimitsu's life and destroyed Clen's life. So much pain that could be traced back to one man. Alex had been the one to make him pay. Yoshimitsu didn't think that was fair. Alex never suffered at the hands of the tyrant. Alex had ended it quickly. Yoshimitsu was not one to kill, but he could have made an exception for Dran. That man did not deserve death. He deserved something so much more terrible.

    The blue haired boy stood up and looked away from the grave. He needed a moment. Around the graves, he could see the stems and withered remains of flowers. Flowers from Vincent, flowers from Frately, flowers from their friends come to pay tribute and respect. So many people who had come to these graves, and yet it was Yoshimitsu who had stayed away. He, who had the strongest connection, who almost had the duty, who could feel more pain from these graves than everyone else in the world combined, had neglected to visit them.

    Just another thing that disgusted him.

    Yoshimitsu took a deep breath, and turned around. He took the short step to the second grave, then crouched next to it. Covered in ivy. It was not so simple to uncover this grave. This one was more. His hand was slow and unsteady as it moved through the air, as though expecting something to stop him. Nothing did. His shaking fingers brushed aside the ivy.


    The Noble Warrior

    The Best Friend

    May Your Soul Find Happiness

    Wherever It May Be

    Yoshimitsu could feel his throat tightening, his eyes burning. In his head, he could see it. Vincent, digging the grave. Vincent, laying his lifeless corpse into the hole. Vincent, carving the gravestone himself because that's who he was. That's what he'd do. He'd go that extra mile no matter what. No one else would be allowed to help him, or his pride would be shattered and his tribute nullified. Vincent who had to do things alone and to the best of his ability. Vincent who had to kill his best friend, take the corpse and bury it himself. Yoshimitsu felt the tears spill over and did nothing to stop them. He let his shoulders shake with silent sobs.

    He could remember it. Every minute of it. Every second of having Lord Dran manipulate his thoughts and his feelings and not being able to do a thing about it. After a while, it didn't matter any more. Dran had warped his mind beyond recognition. He wanted to do what Dran said, why wouldn't he? It was the best course of action. Help usher in the most dangerous race to the planet, fight off the strongest opposition and serve his lord and master. He hadn't been Yoshimitsu, but he had at the same time. And the fight, that final fight. He'd wanted that fight. It wasn't until that last moment, when his own sword had sliced straight through his skin and muscle like paper. He'd been released, and he'd died in Vincent's arms. A fitting way to go. Hurt the boy more. Way to fucking go.

    Yoshimitsu's shoulders shook uncontrollably. This was his punishment. Being forced to face what he had done. Having the facts shoved right in his face. The worst pain imaginable, and he had to live through it and keep on fighting because that's what a hero does, isn't it? They take on the world and they come out smiling. Yoshimitsu didn't want to be a fucking hero any more. He wanted someone to find him and hurt him, beat him so that he could forget the emotional torture. Batter his body to within an inch of death, and that would still be nothing compared to what he was feeling right now. Yoshimitsu was no hero. He was a demon who had destroyed his best friend. The person he loved the most in the world.

    Some hero.

    Yoshimitsu rested his head against the grave, the rain coming down harder now. He didn't mind. A bit of water was nothing in the long run. He just needed a minute, just a minute longer. To sit and think. Just another second, please. But who was he asking? No one was around to drag him away. Just sat there, his head on his own grace, his eyes burning and red. He had all the time in the world.


    It was all his fault. Yoshimitsu was the one who had caused everything. He was the one who had taken Vincent's heart and broken it into tiny pieces. He was the one who had turned the loving boy he once knew into the monster that he was today. Yoshimitsu had caused everything. If he hadn't been so stupid, so reckless. If he hadn't been so weak and pathetic. Vincent might still be who he was. Yoshimitsu pounded his fist against the rock, feeling helpless for the first time in his life. He pounded his fist again and again, his skin breaking and his blood spilling and he continued to punch the rock. He stained his own grave with his blood, his own tears, marking it out as his.


    He stopped himself mid-punch.

    If it was his fault that Vincent had turned to darkness, then it was his duty to stop him. Yoshimitsu had to be the one. To either save Vincent, or to stop him. If it meant that Vincent would stop hurting, he'd do anything. As the rain eased up, Yoshimitsu stayed in that position and considered it. Could he do it? No, it wasn't a question of could he. He had to. He owed it to his friend.

    He stood up, armed with resolve.

    "The rain's stopped..."
  2. Ha! As if we needed further proof that you're one of the best writers here. I could totally picture the scene in front of the graves as well Yoshi imagining Vincent burying him in my head. This was just beautiful; your style of writing in this one off was gorgeous. Now I need to read Yoshi and Vincent's bio so I can catch up on there full history :-3
  3. Oh my. That was one of the most heart-wrenching things I've read on this site, just...amazing. No other word for it. That was a punch to the gut and a tear jerker all in one.

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