Heh, just this little angust soaked ficlet I came up with at ten at night. I got a new computer, so that means new word processor! But it's an outdated processor..... the fic is set in Middle-aged Japan. Sue me, that's what I call it .

The song is called "Wishing you were somehow here again." from Phantom of the Opera.

. And Misao is obviously greiving over Soujiro,

And I know that Japanese greive in WHITE, but I found it more appropiate if she were in black .V PLEASE don't ask as to how/why Sou-kun died please, it will be appriciated, for you probably know I get confused and overwhelmed quite easily -.-;;

I don't own RK or POTO lyrics.

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Frost rimed blades of grass crunched lightly as she walked. Her breath came out in billowing puffs, hanging for a moment in the chill air. The jet-black sky held silver lamp like stars, glittering happily on invisible strings.

The half moon shone sheet white, reflecting off the snow in nearly blinding, white brillance. But, not on bare ground. No, stone markings adorned the surface, wrougting thier ghostly shadows upon the frost covered grass.

They were of various shapes and sizes, smooth and polished with letters adorning them. A lone figure, garbed in all black, glided through the path as if floating. She knew exactly where her destination was, for she had visited this gloomy place often. That was all she could do, wanted to do, she wanted to be near the passed; as if she longed to join them for rest.

Misao gasped slightly as she slipped the hood off her head, the cold, winter air biting her face and ears with her chilled fingers. Kneeling down, she stared blankly at the all too familiar letters of the gravestone.

Seta Misao traced a pale finger over the Kanji, Seta Soujiro.

You were once my one companion, you were all that mattered.

Misao's lack-luster lips curved upwards into a small smile, though her eyes didn't reflect the action. The once sparkling jade eyes, filled with life and joy, were now a shade of fathomless sorrowful grey-green. If you had known her at her teenage years, and looked at the shell with no soul she was now, you'd think she was a totally different person than Makimachi Misao.

Closing her eyes, Misao thought back on her life.

You were once a friend and father.

She remembered her wedding day, the day she thought her heart would simply explode. She rembembered the whisper of cloth on marble as she climbed the staircase, the soft feel of it on her arms, the brush of ordements on her cheeks from where they hung in her raven hair.

She could remember so much of that day, memorized the murmers among her many freinds' and family gathered around where she was to be wed. She could remember the looks on thier faces, pride, happiness, Sae, Omasu and Okon dabbed tears from their faces as she came closer to where she would make her eternal vows.

Imprinted in her memory...that smile. That smile that once had shown nothing, gave her hope, courage, determination..and so much more. Beucase her husband to be was smiling from the botom of his heart, she felt as if she could fly on that day.

His indigo eyes too, reflected all the things hers did, joy, life, love, warmth, welcoming and hope for a bright future.

Misao clenched one of her fists, setting her jaw tightly and squeezing her eyes tighter.

Then my world was shattered.

Sunlight drifted through the thin rice paper door, bathing a form in its' lukewarm embrace. The form shifted, then sat up to reveal a young woman with inky tresses and bright green eyes. It was strange to see just one person on the bed, a double futon was usually meant for two people.

She streched her arm, unconsciously placing her hand on the vacant space next to her. The eyes lidded a bit, an uncharacteristic frown tugging her mouth. They suddenly lifted up, her eyes shimmering, as if recalling something joyful.

Abruptly, her head jerked up, her hair swishing as she did so, scrambling out of the blankets in a hurry, she ran to the door. The woman opened it quickly, her mouth open as if to say something, like 'welcome home!'

But the words seemed to die in her throat. Her eyes darted quickly over the three men standing before her, then widened frightfully as she did not spot what she was looking for.

One of them, wearing an expencive looking coat, badges of different colors embelishing it, walked up to her slowly. The other two stood back, thier heads bowed.

The lady gripped a fistfull of hair, her pale hand had white knuckles as she proceded to the other man. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a sheet of paper. The woman seemed to wobble on her legs, her face clearly showing fear. The man read from the paper, his eyes exhibiting pity.

After it was finished, the three men bowed, casted a gloomy glance toward her and left.

She just stood there, her mouth open, her sightless eyes gazing off into a void. Presently, her slender shoulers trembled, jewel like streams of tears cascaded down her cheeks as she fell to her knees, one hand covering her face as the other supported herself as sobs racked her tiny frame.

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Misao clutched her cloak tightly, ingnoring the sound of ripping cloth as tears welled up through her closed eyelids. Raising a hand, she brushed them off quickly, letting only a soft choke tumble from her lips. Misao hugged herself tightly, drawing in shaky breaths as more memories flodded her mind like water from a broken dam.

Wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you were somehow near.

She remembered how she would lie awake at night, wearing that familliar blue gi and wrapping her arms around herself...it was painfully simular as if he were holding her, just as he always did before they would fall into blissfull sleep.

But those days were over, no matter how hard she would try to convince herself that it was all just a bad, horrible dream; that she would open her eyes and find herself cradled tenderly against his figure, his hands gently stroking her shoulders as he greeted her with a warm smlie and comforting words.

Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here.

Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would.

Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could

And when she would fall asleep alone, dried tears soaking her face, she couldn't get him out of mind. She would have dreams, of the joyous days spending time with him, at thier home, in the market and just about anywhere. There was rarely a time when they were seen without the other.

Then she would snap awake, fresh tears painting her cheeks, the dreams were always so real that she wished she would fall asleep and never wake up again. But she knew she had to keep living her now purposeless life. She knew that's what he wanted, even though she never felt she could.

Passing bells and sculped angels, cold and monumental

seem for you the wrong compainions, you were warm and gentle.

Misao lifted her head and gazed at the stones around her that lacked life and affection. She knew other than her, they were his only company. But she could feel his presence around her at all times, stonger when she was overcome with grief. That comforted her.

His presence was always caring, even when he was alive he sorrounded her with his undying love, it was different now, but she could feel permanate affablility permeate around her. Even so, she would cry untill tears could no longer run from her eyes. For too long.

Too many years fighting back tears, why can't the past just die?

She had wished she could just dissolve into nothingness, waste away and truly be done with it. But she could never bring herself to, ever, no matter how desperatly she longed to end everything. And she felt guilty everytime the thought crossed her mind...she wondered if he had forgiven her?

Misao shook her head fiercley, how could she be so narrow minded to think the love of her life would look down on one of her actions?

Wishing you were somehow here again, knwoing we must say goodbye. Try to forgive, teach me to live, give me the strength to try.

Misao kissed her fingertip, planting it on the headstone and slipped the hood on once more, heading to her home.

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It was a warm summer afternoon, birds' sang thier throaty chimes, green tufts of grass hid sprouts of tiny flowers, some growing near the stone markings of different shapes and sizes, smooth polished sufraces reflecting the golden sunlight from the candy-blue sky.

But for such a happy atmosphere, you wouldn't expect sobbing. Eight people stood in a half circle, a tall, lean man, with black hair and icy blue eyes was biting his lip hardly, moistness tinting the frost colored eyes.

An old man with a beard tied with a tiny bow was bowing his head, fists curled tightly at his sides was standing next to him. Two women with brown hair stood next to each other, thier faces in thier hands as they shook visibly in the plain white kimonos.

Another tall man, with brown hair spiked to the top of his head was looking away, his hands trembling.

A young woman, with deep sapphire eyes and her raven hair tied up with a ribbon was clinging to another, shorter man, with long red hair and a cross shaped scar on his cheek. Two tears escaped his violet eyes, while the woman he was embracing was choking as her tears wet his red gi.

They were gathered around two headstones, one was worn, while the other was quite new with Kanji written on them.

Seta Soujiro.

Seta Misao.

"Till death do us part." was written on a flat, new marker in between them .

No more memories, no more silent tears. No more gazing across the wasted years.

Fin

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Why do I feel I'm gunna get flames??