Oblivion

I know he will kill me. So why am I still going?

I have relived the same thing many times:

I am walking through a large, indoors mall, surrounded by faceless and nameless people. I never remember how I arrived, not why I decided I needed to be there. Yet I always know that I have to find the boy. Which boy, I never seem to know. Before I realize it, I am going up the stairs in an antiques store, walking past chests of drawers and very old wardrobes topped by odd spheres and trailing vines. I realize I am avoiding the boy I am so desperately looking for. The time of our meeting has not yet arrived.

I've ducked into a bathroom and am staring at my reflection contained in the mirror. I am wearing a monk's robe, brown and deeply cowled; and it feels as if I am barefoot, though I did not notice before now. I seem to be as featureless as the rest of the people who fill the inside of the place I am in. Although it is not for the same reasons; they have shadowed eyes and flat noses, a single straight line for a mouth in porcelain-smooth faces. I, on the other hand, have definite eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and full lips. But, my features change; they shift and reform to accommodate what each person who looks at me wants to see. I am man and woman, child and oldster. Whatever is most soothing to those around me.

There is a weapon hidden in my robes, which does not surprise me. It is a ninjatō, sharp and deadly within its deceptively plain scabbard. Oddly enough, I know exactly how to use it, though I know I should not. I bathe my face with cold water and leave the restroom. I am outside now, in the bright sunlight and cheery warmth. Looking out at the field I see, I take in individuals playing golf, and some others are fishing at a pond near the course. To my left, I see a picnic area, a clearing, and a large body of water screened by ancient trees. I know that's where I will meet the boy, but not yet.

I go down the steps and turn right to head to the golf course, where I enter a building that is much like a sort of field house filled with dressing rooms. I feel the nearness of my own death as I walk through halls of peach-colored doors. I am drawn to the far end of the corridor, to a place where I can gaze outside and see ancient stone picnic tables, where more of the faceless beings are sitting and eating. I see one that has a real face and beckon her over. How I know she can see me, I'm not sure. But I know she does. Her ruby red hair is up in two pigtails, and her fresh-honey eyes glare at me in suspicion as I implore her. She debates with herself for a second, but then excuses herself from  her companions and comes towards me.

"He's going to kill you, you know," her voice is cold, impersonal. And all I can do is smile at her, all my sorrow pressed into that one single expression. She seems taken aback and frowns at me, but doesn't say anything more. Waiting. I can't stand to look at her anymore, so I turn my gaze to those stone tables; they seem to have emptied in the few moments it took for this girl to reach me and state the very fact that has been lurking in a lonely corner of my mind since I became conscious of my surroundings. I know he is there, and I can feel the time of our meeting nearing. But there is still one thing that has to be done before my death.

"Please tell him I'm coming," I still refuse to look at her, but I know she is looking at me with her empty eyes. Not another word passes her rose-colored lips as she turns and walks to the one person left in the distance. I take my time and follow after her, feeling the grains of sand slowly drain from the hourglass of eternity. I hear laughter and sense smiles, but none are for me, I am isolated and cold. Apart. I see him then. The one I've been so devotedly searching for, and praying not to encounter. He is wearing a rust red keikogi to rival my robes in defiance. I hide a sad smile; he would hate me more if he knew he gave me a moment of happiness.

"You're not walking away from here alive," his voice is carefully emotionless. I see he wields a naginata, and I cringe, but keep walking sedately past him and towards the sparkling water I can see. His fierce emerald eyes follow me, filled with disgust at something only he can perceive, and a bloodlust that stirs something similar within me. But I steady myself. Not yet. He seems to know that the time is approaching, but not arrived; because he follows me to stand at the edge of the water. It glistens, blue as blue and sparkling like the tears of the Mother Herself. I have to ask him a question, but it is still out of my reach, dancing somewhere outside of my consciousness; far enough that I cannot snatch it. I feel it swimming closer to me though, I know the Death God is nearing the Gates to allow me entry. My hand sweeps out and motions at the Lady Water, and I know what the question is.

"What do you see?" His answer to this question, whatever it might be, is very important to me; though I have no clue why. It seems he knows that, because he turns to look at the sparkling water with unusual seriousness. He gives me another small moment of happiness and I feel my nerves begin to tremble and spark. Time is running out, and he must answer the question before the solemn breeze whispers the song to summon the Hounds to chivvy my soul away. The boy settles the butt of his naginata by his foot and keeps his gaze trained on the ever-shifting surface of molten moonlight. The sun has gone down and his sister acts as sorrowful sentinel to what is forthcoming.

"Death," I am almost startled at hearing his voice for the first time. Except, I know it is not the first time, but the next in a never ending and vicious cycle of repetition. "And life, circles within circles, and the riches of souls." He shifts his attention to me and waits. I am pleased; it is the correct answer. At long last, I prepare myself for what I know is the next part of our ritual. I unsheathe my ninjatō and hold it before me. He leaps back and spins his naginata, pointing its blade at me. Not another word is exchanged, and none shall be until our next encounter. The next repetition of this parody of a life that mocks the very Gods.

Our dance is beautiful and lethal. Destructive in its exquisiteness. We thrust and parry, clashing and spinning away. Eerily, everything around us is deathly silent, only the rasp of steel upon steel breaking the hush that surrounds us. He twists his wrist just so and I know that my ending has arrived. Try though I might, I cannot disentangle myself from the trap he has set me and I see the magnificent blade of that finely-crafted naginata sink into the flesh of my chest. It rasps past bone and tissue, severing blood vessels and out through cloth. Everything stains red, heightened by the silver moonlight hanging about our shoulders. I smile and he extracts the blade from my body, watching as I topple.

I land on my knees and turn my face to look up at him, expecting savage triumph to adorn his features. But he is regretful, though I am not able to inquire why. I can see the Pack of Hounds nearing our clearing as Death glides sedately behind them. They do not howl and bark, as I expect them to. Instead, they gather around me as the God takes me in his arms. You've done well, he shall do you proud in his life. I hear no more as I feel my soul leaving my mortal container.

"Goodbye, Sister," the boy has turned and walked away, taking my ninjatō with him as memento of the life he had to take in order to free himself from the influence of Death. His hands shall forever be stained with the blood of his twin, the other half of his soul lost to him for the rest of eternity.

Author's Note

This is based off a dream I had. I don't really like that it's in first person, but it doesn't make much sense otherwise ^.^