AN: I don't own RuroKen obviously, so it wouldn't do any good to sue, y'know?

Aya Makoto is the property of fellow RK fanfiction writer, Warg. Before diving into this well thought-out fic, please read From the Ashes from the original writer. You won't regret it. This short piece was written for The OC Exchange, and it's focus is on a particular flashback in Chapter 5 of From The Ashes.

All it had taken was a single message. The words of another Imperialist, much like the one closest to her inviolable heart; the other half which took with it the aggression and knowledge of death into the struggle for a new form of government of this respected country. Yes...that was the common perception of those who lived around her. That this outdated government which had ruled for the years which even a bright woman such as herself could not even fathom.

But tonight, Aya Makoto would not be found in her kitchen. She would not be stirring up a late meal for the family she'd been happy with keeping since meeting him. Not because she was growing tired of cooking meals every night, no matter how late. No...the fairly young mother wouldn't associate boredom with her family life; having a family whom she loved dearly was what had mattered.

This evening, underneath the vicious storm which seemed to have spawned from heaven's gates, a young woman dressed in the gray kimono she would always sleep so comfortably in was now in the wet grass behind the house, her clothing soaking in the heavy rain pouring around her. Her freezing toes sat within the green blades, as did her trembling fingers. Her once beautiful, raven hair matted its strands against the fabric of her leaden vesture.

“Why...did you...?”

Her face was wet. Whether it was from the freezing rain pouring down upon her or the tears produced by her body, she couldn't truly say.

The face of a truly loved man sat in her mind. The face of one whom she could truly allow her soul to be free with; he could share his pain with her, and she would never turn away from him. Ever.

Shishio.

It seemed as though the thunderous clasps above repeated his name, reminding her of the precious life that would no longer return to her arms. She was once a strong person, able to stand up and face the harsh reality of war with a smile greeting her face with each passing day. As long as her precious man would be there, as long as she could share the secrets he would never reveal to anyone else.

'Shishio...my precious Shishio...'