Author’s notes: This story was inspired by a short story by Stephan Zweig, "Lettre A Une Inconnue". I just twisted some of the stuff to fit my "new version" of the story. I hope it will turn all right. I’m glad that Zweig is dead, that way he will never see this sacrilege…
Warning: Yaoi, dark themes, death, hint of lemon, prostitution and AU. You can put this story in Zweig’s lifetime, meaning around 1890/1920. It can be wherever you want, but I think France is the best place, not because I’m French mind you, but because at this time homosexuality was better accepted there, at last for what I know.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of nothing, not even the idea this time, just my writing skills, which is not a lot. ^^;;; I don’t own the Ronin Warriors, the work of Zweig and I didn’t even read the friggin’ book! It’s my French teacher who talked about it in class and I just stole the idea, he he! Oh and don’t come flaming me because it’s yaoi and telling me I’m sick and should burn in Hell, because if I do, then you must burn as well for being a jack ass, and so we can go in Hell together. ^_^
Letter To A Stranger
By Shadow Of Arashi
Rowen Hashiba yawned loudly as he closed his apartment’s door and dropped his coat on the luxurious sofa. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep the rest of the day away. Being a famous writer was nice and all, but it could be very annoying and exhausting at time.
Sitting down in one of the soft armchairs in his apartment’s cozy living room, Rowen sighed. He was ready to fetch himself a drink when he noticed the pile of letters on the small coffee table, next to the beautiful flower vase that he had received for his birthday three days ago.
/More work/ he thought unhappily, groaning. He then massaged his temples slowly, closing his eyes before finally picking up the second letter to open it. The first letter was from his fiancée Mia, so he already knew what to expect there. Grimacing, he thought, /better get the others over with as soon as possible, then I can go to sleep. /
Taking a look at the letter, he first noticed the lack of name on it at the usual place, then the elegant handwriting of the writer. His attention was touched then, and he started to read the letter, somehow intrigued by this mysterious person.
"Dear Rowen Hashiba,
I know you will certainly be quite surprised when you receive this letter, for though we have met three times before, we never got to be friends, or anything else for that matter. But I guess I should start by introducing myself first, right? After all I don’t have much time left, so I better tell you all that I have to tell you before my time runs out. My name is Sage Date, and though you don’t know who I am, I know perfectly who you are.
I know all of your work, and have read all your books. I have followed all the events of your life that I could track, but always from a distance. It started very early, for when you were already famous at 18, I was just a ten-year-old child, already in awe of you. At first, it was just the interest of your talent, your way of writing. However, it quickly grew into something more, and I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t even see it coming until it was too late in fact.
When I was 15, I wanted to meet you. It was the first time I realized that my interest for you was something more than what it should have been. It was also at this time that I got my first glimpse of you, not from your books, but for real. My parents had moved into the building just next to yours, and my room’s window had a view right into your apartment. I was delighted by this turn of events, for I could finally see you all days long.
I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I would spend days in front of my window just watching you as you wrote something on your desk. Sometimes when I saw you on the street and had the time to do it, I would follow you around town. But I never did anything else. After all, you were from the upper class, always around the important people, always in the famous parties, never alone, and never with people like me of course. I was just the son of a small clerk, and I knew that I could never hope to attract the attention of someone like you, a famous writer, in my current situation.
That’s when I realized that I was totally, hopelessly in love with you. I know it’s startling, isn’t it? That someone you never saw, or almost never saw, could be in love with you. And still, it’s the truth. I realized that when I caught myself wishing you would notice me, and god knows it was so much more than a teenage crush. I wanted more than what I already had; I was desperate for some form of notice from you and at any cost.
Yes I know, I sound quite obsessive right now, right? And still, I never thought once of breaking into your apartment, or to really stalk you to the point where you would be scared. I wasn’t even jealous when I sometimes saw you with a young lady. It never crossed my mind. I love you more than anything, and all I have ever wanted was to meet you and for you to be happy. It would have been enough for me, for my whole life was now for you.
When I finally understood the depth of my feelings, I got a little more daring, and when I found out when your birthday was, I started saving money to buy you some flowers each year. At first, I felt stupid to do such a thing, because I was sure countless people were already sending you flowers. However, when I saw you weren’t throwing them away, it gave me hope that maybe it wasn’t that hopeless. Of course I knew that I still didn’t have a chance to be with you, for more than one reason, but it was enough to make me happy.
And then one year later, there was this day, the second of December. I remember the date perfectly. It has stayed in my memories and has never left since then, even now. That day I was in my room waiting for you to come home, and watching from my window as usual when I saw you, but not alone. I was expecting a lady, like you always did before, even though it was not that often. But I got the surprise of my life when I saw it was a boy.
He was cute, there is no need denying it, with his short, soft looking auburn locks and wide sea green eyes. He looked very nice, but it wasn’t that fact that caught my attention that day. It was the fact that I also saw you kissing him passionately before giving him his money afterward. I then saw my way to finally get close to you.
It didn’t even shock or bother me, like it should have. It was just a means to an end like any other, and if that was the only way to have what I wanted, then so be it. The next day I left my home. I left, leaving everything behind, the only thought in my head being that I was finally going to approach you, even if it meant selling myself. But of course it wasn’t that easy since I didn’t have a clue as to what to do or how to proceed at first. But lady luck was with me and I managed to find the boy who had spent the night with you.
I was right about him; he was very nice indeed. He took me with him; me, a sixteen-year-old teenage boy, and he taught me all that I needed to know about being a courtesan. His name was Cye. Did you know that? He died six months after I met him. I never really knew how, the police never told me… But for as long as he was alive, he taught me all the things he knew and made me one of the best courtesans around. Soon I was able to be on my own, thanks to him.
I was good at what I did, very good, and surely I had a better life than the one I could have hoped for if I had stayed with my family. But I wanted to be with you, and one day someone heard my wish and I got my miracle. That day you chose me to spend the night with you, and it was the most wonderful night of my life.
I remember it very well, the way you caressed my ivory skin as you took me. Your deep blue eyes wide and bright as you bent over me, our two bodies sliding against each other in a perfect dance, my hands in your amazing blue hair as I laid in your arms, and the way you held me afterward. For once I felt fine, for once I felt loved, for once I felt like I belonged. That night and the other two that we spent together in the same circumstances, are my happiest memories.
I was 18 years old when we spent those nights together, and you were 26 years old. Now I’m 20 years old, and you, well you are now 28, and you are about to get married from what I heard. I know her name is Mia and she looks like a nice girl. I’m sure that she will make you happy, as much as I wish it were me . . .
I’m sure you are wondering why I’m writing to tell you this, if I’m not going to make a scandal of it, right? Well it’s partly because I’m not writing after all this time just because I feel like it, but because something happened that changed things dramatically. And I mean it.
My dear Rowen, did you ever know you had a son? I guess not, but you did.
I found out by pure coincidence, shortly after the last night we had together. It was at night, after I left one of my "customers". I was going to go back home when I met her, Kayura. She was very pale, as if she was sick. Her long beautiful dark blue hair was held in a messy ponytail, and she could barely stand on her own. I helped her and took her with me to my home. She had a baby boy with her.
When I got her into bed, she weakly told me that she was a coutisane, a prostitute just like me, and that the baby was the son of one of her customers. I never asked her who was the father, but she told me she didn’t have any time left, and that she wanted me to take care of her baby. Before she died, she told me that the father was you, Rowen Hashiba. I promised her that I would take care of the baby as if he was my own son, and I did.
It was the second best thing that had ever happened to me after those stolen nights with you. The little child was truly an angel, and he was beautiful, just like you. Kayura had called him Aki before she passed away. I was never more happy than when he smiled at me. It made my heart jump with joy. I had the son of my only love with me, and it made the fact that I could never have you by my side easier to bear. It was like I was finally bonded to you. Like I had a piece of you with me. A piece of heaven.
But it didn’t last. Two years later, which means just a few days ago now, Aki fell sick, just like his mother. All the doctors I saw said the same thing over and over; they couldn’t save him. I didn’t want to give up on him, and so I stayed with him night after night and day after day while he suffered from a fierce fever that made him cry out softly all night. It tore at my heart to see him like this; I didn’t want to lose him too. I prayed for him with all my heart, but despite all my prayers, he finally died.
He died yesterday, and yesterday was the day I died inside as well. When Aki died, I lost the last thing I had that kept me close somehow to you. I loved that child, and losing him happened to be the last straw. I can’t stand it anymore, I gave up my whole life for you, and I can’t say I have regrets because I don’t, but now I don’t have anything to keep me going, so I’ve decided to simply be with Aki again. I know you have Mia now. Thus, I have no reason to be on this earth anymore, but I just wanted to let you know what had happened around you all those years before I left as well.
When you read this letter, I will already be dead. That’s why I said earlier that I didn’t have much time left. I slashed my wrist just before writing it. I have enough strength left to post it, but that’s it. I can be happy now. I already feel more at peace, so please don’t be sad, for if I know you like I think I know you, you will be sad. Don’t worry about this anymore love, you can even burn this letter if you wish, it doesn’t matter anymore. Just know that I love you, and have since all those years ago when I was still a child.
With all my love, Sage Date"
The letter, stained and wet with tears, escaped from trembling fingers and fell softly on the floor, forgotten. In the apartment the cry and sobs of a broken man echoed in the empty living room... The next day the suicide of the famous writer Rowen Hashiba was on the first page of all the newspapers . . .
OWARI