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Anime/Manga » Fate/stay night » The bell tolls for no one font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: Hyorin
Fiction Rated: T - English - Drama/Angst - Published: 05-13-08 - Updated: 05-13-08 - Complete - id:4255422

The bell tolls for no one ; PG13 - angst/drama - Rin + Sakura, some mentions of Rin x Archer, Shirou x Saber, and unrequited Sakura x Shirou

Under the blue sky, she steps one foot in front of the other, another morning, the school year rapidly coming to close. Rin walks the path she's always taken to school ever since she found out that another also took this same path. She got up early, walked faster, slower, just to catch a glimpse. Every day bag in hand, moving from that empty space into another, walking until the sunlight filled up what was desolate, just a head of her, just ("Can you forgive me?") walking through crowded concrete buildings, an old woman's cat flicking its tail as it lays upon the window sill lazily. The pots of messily arranged flowers trying to bud, trying to survive, the clear air as it hits her face with ever motion forward- some times the smell of rain at their very heels, just to catch a glimpse, the back, the simple flutter of hair over the shoulder, always holding her arms before her to carry her bag, never like Rin, never carrying about the side, boisterously running to- (within the last twenty five an a half feet, from this distance...)

"Sakura."

But today is different, today she will ask again-

She brings up a small smile, as if their grievances could be tip toed around, as if -("It's alright! I- I won't leave you any more!"), her mouth forming words, her voice from- "Good Morning."

And Sakura gives her a glance, that same crinkle of her brow, that same sudden hurried step, "Good morning" she murmurs back and continues forward, as if a great urgency has gripped her as if (instinct take root and once again, survive, the budding, blossoming flower), as if she hadn't had enough time before Shirou, as if she had any say in what he was doing now, as if she didn't want to admit that he didn't walk the same path as her, as if he came the same time, as if they loved the same. Unrequited was the worst, and Sakura has known that he waits for someone who is now nobody.

"Say-" but before Rin can say any more, their merged paths split back into two (though it is the same, Rin walks slowly but is not late for her first class.)

Mornings are not supposed to be dreary; she came at the same time, as she did every morning. Uniform clean, hair brushed, bag in hand. The sky had been terribly blue on her way out and instead of uplifting her spirits only brought them down.

Sakura had made omelets.

"She loved to eat this."

He had said and she had nodded, on that dreary morning. Frying pan still in hand, as the other had been tucked onto the plate, the top half of the pan red, unrefering to its black bottom. The sink with only a bowl and spoon.

Within her thoughts she swore to never make them again, but conflicted at her aversion, said only "Then I'll make them again some other day."

But that other day, she swore wouldn't come, it wasn't going to come any way.

"Will you go to school today?"

Rin thinks. ‘If he were here' she would not be doing what she was doing now. Face implanted into the pillow, the fabric moist and smelling like salt, if he were here, she thought, she would be sitting in a chair at the table, a tray of tea set before them, and he would stir that warm feeling, fill her cup, fill her up and she wouldn't have to think over and over of the mistakes she's made, only of the plans ahead, only of victory, only bold and delirious future. But that's not how it is, he is not here, they are not soldiers of their own, fighting in the war. The war is over; her purpose is not to lead, to keep moving-

Faltering, it is not like her, it is not like her for the shallow step to become echoing still, but she cannot help it, cannot help the pain that constricts within her chest when once again she tries over and over- be it a gentle touch to the shoulder, the back- every muscle would hunch and shiver, tensing, anticipating an end. And it hurt her, it hurt her more than she ever let on and it had been her fault, this depletion of communication, she had abandoned her, and this was due, this was what had to be, but Rin, didn't want it to be.

But it had to be, there was no escaping it the distance she'd tried to overcome would stretch out and sever all that had remained between them snapped. Her lips twisting into the pillow, hands twisting into the words she'd say, she almost gave a laugh when she thought if she tried to bury her face any deeper she'd suffocate.

(Suffocation, was that what she felt, is that how the heart reacted? The way lungs had, when at that time the only thing Sakura could see was Rin with her back turned to her?)

The roles are switched now, retribution strikes an eerie sound, and (she deserves it, deserves it all, deserves to have him gone, stripped the pillar of strength she's always thought she's possessed), walking, walking down that path again, walking not to the tips of the horizon (heels) but to see her, to see her back, watching the clothed flesh she dare not even lay her hand upon anymore, dare not press into the same atmosphere dare not- but the figure stops and she keeps her feet moving keeps moving until they pass her, they pass Sakura, and rising (gully gully) her heart speeding up deliriously, painfully, an agony gripes and ripens from the colour of ash ("No!") she halts almost so startlingly she nearly trips, words gaping out, today was-

And Sakura looks up, tears sprung about the edges of her eyes, not good morning, not good bye. "Happy birthday, onee-san."

And Rin just stands there, repeating each and every syllable over and over within her mind, even after Sakura's very shadow has gone. Her arm, and hand eventually becoming lax, her bag barely slipping from her grip.

She regrets that all her tears she's cried has gone to the previous night, and while it is the desert air that passes now, she smiles, achingly, coldly warm, taking each step slow she watches them take her to school, arms wrapped about her in the embrace she wished she could have given then.

If she was here, Sakura thinks it would have made it a bit more bearable. Because it would have been done and she would stop clinging to the hope that he would stop waiting.

It was the waiting she hated the most.

Because she knew he would, forever, until time itself become crippled and minutes, days, years, until they had no meaning, even then she knew he'd wait.

And she can't take it any more (my fault my fault my fault) he'd told her to leave the first day she'd come again, after the end, but she had insisted, and from then on he had not tried to refuse her again. But it probably would have been better if his compassion had not existed at all, like weak pity, it was she who was being crippled, not time.

"Saber won't be back, she won't be back."

The door sliding shut harshly.

Rin feels Sakura behind her again.

When Rin had passed by the usually spot, twenty five and a half feet after Sakura was supposed to have appeared, sharp, tack, into her heart (her lungs) had made her dare not glance around in fear that she'd gone faster today (her clock was off her stride was off she'd eaten too quickly dressed too quickly- to those syllables, to the foolish foolish desire of) and it feels wrong, this reminder that sin she has once done, she will do again.

"Good morning," Sakura says to her and this stride, had not come too quickly, Sakura's had been too slow an rapid she thinks (for me? For who? Why? Was it?) but that is all Sakura says. And their steps keep falling in place, walking together side by side, pass the shops, pass the homes, pass narrow ways, pass the cross walk and into school, into departure.

This went on for one week, two.

Then three days.

All they ever said was good morning, but that had been enough for Rin, been enough to be able to glance to her right and see Sakura, the morning air (the most beautiful air, of the most pleasant scent-) and be at ease, be at peace, knowing that if she was bold again, she could tip her hand a bit to the right and knock that hand against Sakura's left. A wonderful feeling, makes you wonder if it could last forever, and you know.

It can't.

Rin stops, Sakura stepping forward nearly five steps before she notices she walks alone again. She turns around, that hair that Rin has seen bouncing, flutter, cross, tangle, slide, with each forward step, whirls with Sakura as she looks back (like Rin hadn't ever, not that day, she did not want to see Sakura's face then- she didn't want to hear and see her cry-) "What is it?"

Rin breaks it, Sakura may have said new words, but only because she had the intention to first.

"Say... Sakura. I..." she does not avert her eyes, if it makes it worse, Rin does not know, and forges ahead (this isn't bold, this is-) "...after I graduate this year I'll be going to school in London." (-painful.)

Sakura, does not move, time becoming crippled- she had not thought would come in this day and age, she had not thought- and she runs, runs, turning her face away, hand covering her mouth, as nothing comes out, running, frantic, these steps, rushing to the crosswalk, as a light flashes red and Rin does not move does not move for what feels like eternity until it rips from her a cry (feverish, shaking, trembling as if the cold clashing with the heat-) "Sakura, no! Stop!" her hand rushing out to reach, just reach (as Sakura's had that day, crying out "Onee-san!") and her legs stretching into motion and expanse, the distance between widening and closing. Her heart wants to fly from her chest and splatter across the concrete path; it wants to spread across every step they've taken together; her bag clatters against the concrete and lies forgotten, just as Rin struggles to keep each feet moving, keep running.

And by the time Rin catches up with Sakura, the sound of go, the soft little melody and the green light has turned on for the walking, the red dead, the melody stops, and Sakura is crouched at the edge, the tips of her toes still upon the sidewalk, her arms wrapped about her, her hands clutching her head, face buried into her knees.

Rin's eyes burn and she does not touch Sakura, only daring to stand a few feet back.

"Sakura, I-"

That small melody again, a nonsense tune that serves one purpose, the light, again changing, Sakura stands abruptly with a crowd, not looking back any more, "You promised me."

She crosses the street and Rin remains on the other side even as she hears over the ruffled sound of traffic- the bell for class tolling.

They don't walk that path any more.

Sakura is washing her dishes, in this lonely room, this empty place (that shares in a likeliness to Rin's and maybe that was what spurred her to place their steps together just that once and more than twice times.)

It's then that the door bell rings.

She answers it while drying her damp hands against her apron. (It's been five hours, thirty three minutes, since her flight has departed. Sakura didn't go. She didn't want to see it again.)

She signs for the gift, and closes the door with the unoccupied hand, placing it in the middle of the table. There is no card but she already knows who they are from. It's to the quiet of the room she says, "My favourite flowers are daffodils. Not forget-me-nots, onee-san."

They are the same blue as that morning. Her arms quake behind her as she struggles not to contract them forward. It falls the fly out, the pot smashing against the floower, ripe flowers, blue blue blue flowers, fresh and alive, ie, as she shreds them across the linoleum floor, just shaking, shaking over and over, scent, flower, you who have lived under the sun and rain, Sakura destroys, tears into, into until her chest heaves, pulse racing, dirt, roots, against the floor, exactly as Rin had wanted her heart on that day before.

"You promised me..."



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