Disclaimer: Sorry but I do not own Witch Hunter Robin in any way, shape or form. I am not making a profit by writing this story. I am simply writing to understand.
You are walking away from me again and all I can do is stare at your retreating back. Why do all of our interactions end this way?
I know almost nothing about you, well no one knows much about you. You prefer to keep your past buried and forgotten. I know the reason you hide behind such thick walls must lie in the past you would rather pretend never existed.
But I don’t know the reasons. And you won’t tell me. I’m left in the dark about an issue that effects you to this day. Sometimes I cannot help but step on it accidentally because the trigger encompasses what I do as a hunter.
The trigger is ‘witch’. Someday I wish you would tell me why this word upsets you so. Who was the witch that made you withdraw from life? What happened to make you turn into the cold, stony personality you are?
But still all your mysteries do not repel me the way it seems to repel the others. In fact, I am drawn to you because of your old pain and your suffering. I want to be the one who you break down to and tell all your secrets. I want to be the one to enfold you into an embrace and hold you until your pain is gone.
You are not the only one with secrets in your past. But terrible as yours may be, at least you know what they are. I have no clue who my parents were or if they are even dead. I have studied my face in the mirror many times but I see no hint of Japanese ancestry. My green eyes are not almond shaped nor do I have the same type of nose. My hair is reddish blonde and is common is Europe but not here in Japan where most everyone is dark haired.
But I can live without knowing who my parents are. I grew up quite content in the care of Father Juliano. He was kind although stern and instilled many values in me that will serve me well through life.
But you, Amon... You hide part of yourself in the dark and trust that the shadows will keep your secrets buried from everyone around you. I wonder who you could have grown up to be if you had chosen a different way of coping. But I know that is simply a fancy of mine. The past cannot go back and be changed in any way. You simply have to make do with what you have. And I’m sure you tried...
Your wild dark hair tells me you don’t care what other people think of you. But your face is so emotionless that it looks like it was chiseled from pale rock. But your eyes are what draws peoples attention to you for a few seconds before they drop their eyes. Your eyes are as black as emptiness and the frozen flames caught within make one shudder.
I am serious when I say frozen flames. Dry ice burns when put into contact with your skin when they ‘burn’ off warts. The ice is so cold that it burns when applied to flesh. Some religions think that Hell is a cold place and it could be. How else could one freeze and burn at the same time? A fitting place for the devil.
When I catch you watching me and before you turn away, sometimes I see the cold and the fire in your eyes and I want to shiver. I don’t because predators can sense fear radiating from those weaker than themselves. It’s then that I think that the devil must have eyes like yours.
But then you turn away and I’m just left with feelings that have no place to go but to shiver inside where I can’t release them. And I’m left to wonder what you are really thinking behind your mask of stone.
Are you thinking of me? Do you see me as I really am? The way I could not see myself without denying that’s the way I really am? Everyone has illusions about themselves and I am no exception. Having no illusions about how you truly are would set one on the path to madness.
But I think if you were to be able to see how you are; you wouldn’t hate it. You would be content to be thought of as intimidating. You would be glad that your stony expression is daunting and few wish to pry into what you leave unsaid. You would like knowing you are harsh and pitiless when you are exacting justice. Most of all you would like knowing all who know you are a little afraid of you.
Even me. I watch you closely though I don’t think you know it yet. I see how you react to everything and sometimes your mask slips just a little. I get a glimpse inside to the real you and then I know you are hurting inside. But those times are few and far between.
The emotion you detest above all is the one I feel strongest for you, I love you, Amon. I love you despite how cold you are to me and everyone. I detest how you go through life autonomously like a robot and base everything off of logic. Your masks annoy me because I want to peel them away. I love you in spite of the indifference in your devil eyes.
Maybe I love you because of all the things I detest or find intriguing about you. Or perhaps I will find the reasons someday when I care to dig deep into my own psyche and find the answers. But all I know is I love you, Amon. Even if you were the devil.