Even Death

By: Kuroi Neko-kun

Summary: As guilt overwhelms her, she wishes for death but someone unexpected points her to another path.

Disclaimer: Suikoden III belongs to Konami. I am a poor fanfic writer who loves the game so much.

Warning: Uh… Angsty?

A/N: No, this is not a pairing fic. Neither does anybody dies in here. I came up with this when I recruited Landis with Chris in Kuput. He just scared me when he appeared like that.

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No matter how much I try to clean myself, the smell of blood always linger on me, like a ghost. Maybe it’s the souls of all the lives I have taken, just to save my own. Many men have died by my blade because I refuse to die or let the others with me end their lives too young. Too young… That Karayan boy… I killed him, out of instinct to protect myself I drew my blade to kill a child. I should have let him struck me. I’ve often wondered why I still feel this guilt even when I have a perfect reason to my actions. Is it because he is a child? Or is it because I am working with the same man who wishes to avenge his death? I am not blind. I do see it in his eyes that he still harbored the revulsion of me. For the same blade that I draw to protect him, to fight for the cause of the Flame Champion, is the same blade that murdered his friend. He may never forgive me and I will accept that. To bear this guilt will be my punishment. But to always have that lingering smell of blood makes you wish to just spill your own. And I do. I looked up to the sky and stared at the pale moon. Night had fallen on Budehuc Castle and its occupants, or most of it, have succumbed to the sandman’s spell. I couldn’t sleep. As the dreams I have, often on the death of the others that have crossed my sword have driven me to such a state that sleep had not become an option. I held a hand to my face. Why is it so hard for me to accept my actions? Guilt was the only answer… And death is my only salvation. I have convinced myself that this is the reason I am standing in the dark of the night, waiting for death to claim me.

“Now what are you doing here, Silver Maiden?” And he has come. A hand grabbed both of my hands while the other snaked around my waist. I felt offended at first but I refused to struggle. Let him do what he wishes. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his hot breath lightly caressing my cheek.

“Are you here to take me? Is it my time yet, Grim Reaper?” I asked, for that question had floated in my head the same time the stench of blood drenched my body. He seemed all too surprised by my question before he released me. What is he doing! I turned to face him, only to have his crimson eye glare at me.

“Get out of here.”

“Take me now!” I demanded, “I wish for death so come claim me!” Instead of pulling out his scythe, he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me into a wall.

“I am no fairy. I do not grant those who wish me anything!” he hissed before taking out a dagger.

“But you…”

“If you want it so bad, do it yourself!” He tossed the knife at me as I caught it. I stared at the blade for a moment. Can I take my own life? Is it what I really want? I looked at him, his eye trained on me as he waited for my decision.

“Why?” It was a question of many questions. A word in its simplest form raised so many complex questions with complex answers. He never spoke but he just looked at me. This was a question that was to be answered by me.

“I killed a child,” I mumbled,” He looked like he barely got to his teenage years. Yet, I killed him. Because I wanted to live…” Guilt overwhelmed me but I refused to cry. I will not show my weakness. But my heart settled on grieving for the boy… “His name… was Lulu. He was someone’s son. He was supposed to do great things but I ended that for him because of my selfish yearn to live.” I took a deep breath, controlling my emotions. Why do I suddenly feel this way? Is it because death stood before me in a form of a Winghorde, his scythe and his disturbing ways? Too many questions have been asked that I have no answer to. But is my only answer death? To take my own life? My eyes fell on the dagger again, this time in complete disgust. This was a coward’s way out yet I seek it.

“Have you ever thought of the men who died by your blade?” he asked, his voice surprisingly normal. His crimson eye turning to the pale moon. I frowned.

“What…?”

“Those men who attacked you and you killed them,” he said, “They were someone’s sons too or they were to have a son of their own. Yet they chose to face you, unbeknown to their fate to death as they drew their blades. You put your life on the line when you choose to attack someone. That child did the same when he wished to attack you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked, now glaring at him.

“But they all had a purpose, to protect, to avenge, to kill… And they lived it out as warriors. None of them… begged for death,” he said, “And none of them feared it.”

“I do not fear death,” I shot at him.

“No, you fear life,” he said simply, “A life pebbled and stoned with the lives that you took for your own.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I flared in anger.

“Because you, Chris Lightfellow, have strayed too much to understand your purpose in life,” he answered. I stopped, staring at him with utter shock. All these words ring true. Just how much of me has he known? He took the dagger from my hand and began to walk away.

“Landis,” I called out. He stopped, craning his neck to look at me. “Thank you,” I said with all sincerity. He turned to me, reaching out for my face. It was strange that his calloused hand could be surprisingly gentle and warm. He placed the other hand on my cheek before lifting my head slightly, making me look into his eye.

“This is a message for you, dear lady,” he whispered before pressing his lips against mine. It was a tender kiss. As he parted from me, I looked at him before smiling. As he walked away, I thought about his message as my fingers pressed upon my lips. Even death has its compassions. Landis the Winghorde showed me that the only way I can understand.

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The End