by Alistair Marquise

Created on: July 08, 2009   Last Updated: March 16, 2010

Here he was, exactly as he was expected to be, naked in a tub full of warm, red, water. The punctures in his wrists, while unsettling, were nonetheless performed neatly, as was his manner.  Yes, wrists pierced with the delicate precision of one of his throwing daggers; in the fashion of someone who not only knew what they were doing but certain that they wanted to do it. His head was tilted in the direction of the window that looked out on Hirano Tower, the site of what he most assuredly considered his greatest defeat. The tower stood gouged and uneven against a large, pale moon, casting a thin shadow into the room that lay across his body like a dark weight, wavering slightly as the window coverings shifted with the evening breeze. I imagined his eyes affixed, though fluttering, on the tower as his life drained from him, contemplating what he could have done different in order to achieve success the day that he and I fought amongst those fragile, crumbling, staircases. Perhaps he was thinking that there could be no greater indignity than to lose a battle to me. Perhaps he was right.

I took a step closer to his body, the hard leather of my boots striking the smooth, marble, floors and echoing against the stone walls, giving the room a sort of fleeting, artificial, life. I lifted my hand to my face and removed my mask, dropping my arm down by my side as I knelt down beside the tub. I dipped my hand into the water, gently raising his wrist to my face.  I pressed his hand against my cheek, feeling the chill of his skin contrasted with the warmth of the water and blood mixture. My mouth opened in order to let a tiny groan of despair escape, but no sound was to pass through my lips, as he had severed my vocal chords years ago.

Arpeggio, my brother, you had finally won. You had finally taken something away from me that I could not replace, and in your victory you assured that no matter how great my victories over your machinations would be, there would always remain in them my single greatest failure. I was never able to make you see how misguided your desires were, never able to prove to you how much stronger the two of us could be when we fought together, and never able to bring you home in any way other than covered in the funeral wrappings of our ancestors.

I took his hand from my cheek and let it slip back into the water, leaving a loose, red smudge on my face. My tears began to form, small streams of sorrow that mixed with his blood and fell from my chin, catching the moonlight as they made the journey down towards the floor and finally shattered into thousands of red, moon-lit diamonds. I rose to my feet, feeling a bit unsteady. My fingers still held my mask, a thing that had become a symbol of my battle with both myself and my brother. I lifted it toward my face but stopped short of fixing it back in place. Perhaps it was time to remove it for good, to leave all of what it represented and concealed behind. Even though there would still be battles that I must fight, some of them waged by Arpeggio's lasting plans, perhaps I could fight them in a new and unburdened fashion.

Arpeggio, your death was not only your victory over your perception of your demons, but a gift bestowed upon me that renewed my commitment to my mission. I looked on his body, now a pale, stiffening husk, let the mask fall from my fingers, and watched it sink into the crimson water.

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