“…You are the keeper of my heart…”
one: fatality driven on wings of wax
That fateful day, five hundred years past, he had told the pale god to “return safely to me,” to “keep strong with the knowledge of my love.” Five hundred years ago, he had foolishly believed in optimism and the supposed bond love’s powers might forge. Five hundred years ago, he had prayed.
–And Konzen had fallen, a broken bird with crimson feathers fluttering behind and around, staining that golden hair, that pure white silk, red marring the despair filled face. Haunted violet.
Five hundred years ago, he had died. Rinrei had unsuccessfully tried to revive him, but that series of events had just twisted the knife in his heart deeper, had cut open old bleeding scars and renewed the flow of blood. So he threw himself into this radical ideal world where someone so golden, as golden and pure as the sun’s rays could live without fear of death.
…the fear in his eyes as he had fallen…
Konzen had been reincarnated and if possible, was even more cold and callous than his godly incarnation; a brutal demise and harsh trauma the conditioning. Genjo Sanzou was everything a monk was not. Genjo Sanzou was everything a god was not. Genjo Sanzou was everything and nothing of Konzen Douji.
Homura had fallen hard again, heart beating and health regained only for him. Unable to escape the clutch Konzen had on his heart, this time he was fully revived from the dead. Once again, he believed. This time, however, he would not let go: he would painstakingly pin down the iridescent wings of the white butterfly if he had to.
[1] T.S. Elliot's "The Hollow Men"