Not that everything was ugly – just that everything was the same. Nothing stood out. And nothing was particularly beautiful.
But there was something different about today. Before reaching the school, he noticed something.
A rose bush.
A big, vibrant rose bush, filled with fully bloomed red roses. He didn't know how he missed it, because it was different. It stood out. And it was definitely beautiful.
He carefully picked a rose off the bush. He stared into the deep red petals as something came to him.
Ritsuka was a few years younger, about six. He was walking down a sidewalk, very similar to the one he currently was on, but he wasn't alone. Next to him, a woman was walking, holding his little hand. He giggled happily.
"Mama! It's such a pretty day, isn't it?" he asked giddily, eyeing the bright blue sky, with a fluffy white cloud or two, and the flowers that were blooming in the gardens they were passing.
She chuckled. The sounds were melodious to his little ears. "It is truly lovely, my dear Ritsuka," she replied, "Maybe we could go to the park to enjoy it! What do you think?"
Ritsuka beamed. "That would be so cool! Thanks Mama!" He stopped in his walking to give her a big hug. His mother leaned down to hug him back. Slowly they let go of each other, and she ruffled his hair before standing up.
They strolled to the park nearby, Ritsuka tightly grasping his mother's hand. When they reached their destination, something instantly caught his attention: a rose bush. It was a big bush – it came up to his upper chest! – and the brightest red roses were blooming from it, creating a beautiful sight to his young mind.
It so thoroughly captivated him, that he let go of his mother's hand to run to the bush. He wanted a flower for his mother, so he grabbed the prettiest flower in his reach. In his eagerness to take the flower, however, he pricked his hand. He cried in pain, cradling the cut and watching the blood run out, which was as red as the rose he was trying to steal.
His mother noticed his distress immediately, and ran to him. She knelt down quickly and pulled her son into an embrace. "Sweetie, you should know better than to try to take a rose," she said softly, taking Ritsuka's hand and examining it. It wasn't a deep cut, so there was only a small orb of blood. "Roses have sharp thorns. Promise me that you'll be more careful next time."
The sting from the cut had mostly faded, but he still remembered it – and that was enough to make him nod. "Of course, mama," he replied, "I promise."
She smiled warmly at her son. "Good," she said. "Now, you're lucky that I carried band-aids with me in my purse." She dug through her purse to find a brightly colored band-aid, and applied it to her son's cut. "Much better." With that, she kissed the bandaged cut. "Does it feel better now?"
Ritsuka nodded, grinning and giggling happily. "It does now! Thanks mama!"
Ritsuka snapped out of his reverie to find that he had pricked himself on one of the rose's thorns. He watched as the blood swelled up from the cut. For a moment, he turned back to the direction he came from, feeling a sharp longing for his mother to come and make it better.
Shortly after, he turned back and snorted; the memory of his mother's shouts from the morning still fresh in his mind. There was no way that that would ever happen. Why bother hoping for it?
With that, he threw the rose on the ground and stepped on it, grinding on it with his foot. He walked on, the memory forgotten, laying there with the bloodstained rose.