I realized today that I haven't posted anything in here in a LONG time. I'm correcting that now... This is a short story from a few years ago. It's a favorite of mine, moreso because I basically sat down and wrote it. Heck, it practically wrote itself.
Anyway, enjoy and, if you're interested, keep an eye out for more of my old work to be posted ^^ (Note: Most/All will be Sailor Moon stories, as I have the most inspiration there)
I don't own Sailor Moon or any of its contained characters.
Credit goes to their rightful owners.
"The warmth of another's eyes, the fresh scent of rain on
a hot summer's eve -- moments like these renew in us a
heartfelt appreciation for life."
~ Gwen Weising
Upon entering I notice her at once, as if I could
ever really miss her, sitting in her nook, her
solitary perch in the corner of the windowsill.
An eagle, the one I love, held a captive by her mind.
One leg is bent gracefully before her, her bare toes
resting comfortably on the warm sill, the other free,
dangling off the side, and just barely brushing the
floor below. Her large soulful eyes, a beautiful
emerald green, touched with the softest rays from
the rising sun. She is staring out the window, not
really seeing what lies beyond, but watching
nonetheless. The world I once knew and loved is
reflected in her steady gaze, a world of peace,
laughter and love. A place where death is unheard
of, and the urge to spread goodness lies relative.
A world reflected in green.
An aura of power, a shield of defense, surrounds her,
carries her and her flightless wings outside of
reality, outside of what our destiny is, rather was,
to that gentle world of green. I always believed that
it was the source of her strength, but now, as I see
her walls crumble and fall rejected to the ground
below, I realize that I was wrong. I had never seen
her like this, not before it happened, not ever. At
times she would remind me that with me at her side,
she could handle any obstacle, lay to rest any kind
of opposition. I suppose that perhaps, in a way, I
was her support. Imagine, all this time I thought it
was the other way around. But it's too late now...
I'm standing here at her side now, but perhaps this
is only what I want to see in my mind. I'm so close,
I could reach out and touch her- at least I could have.
It breaks my heart that she can't acknowledge my
presence. I remember times in the past when she would
do this, recede into her own mind, barely realizing
I existed with her, for what do I know about flying?
A gentle sigh escapes her lips, shifting the golden
strands of hair over her forehead ever so slightly, a
moth's wing caress. She lifts an arm absently, places
it against the cool glass of the window, seeming
suddenly like a caged animal searching for an exit.
I can see her eyes, reflected in the transparent glass.
It seems that everything has become a reflection,
nothing solid to depend on any more, in my world.
Why is that? I ask myself this constantly, why me?
Why did it happen to us? I often wondered where Haruka
would go at times like these. Does she remain of this
world, in her natural form? I wonder who she chooses
to accompany her, who her true support is. I can only
pray that she'll never forget me, that in her mind
this never happened, and I too, have wings. Let her
live such a lie in the distant heavens.
I know it wasn't her fault. I know that if she had
had the power, she would take everything away with a
simple wish. But we receive no such power, had no
forewarning, for God works in strange ways, unfair in
our eyes. At first I tried to tell her so, tried to
get her to understand, but then I realized just what
had happened. The truth is always hard to handle,
death being nearly impossible to accept, for those
who have lost, as well as the deceased themselves.
I should know. That fateful day replays in my mind,
over and over, every minute of every hour, teasing
me in a sick, twisted way. Never will it allow me
some peace of mind, and never will I rest.
We were chasing a stray youma, Haruka and I, our
minds careless, our spirits feeling little pity
for the fate of the ill-famed creature. After all,
with the end of the Sailor Wars, and chaos sealed
once more, what had we to fear from a single rebel?
I see her, the only one I can truly depend on, the
only one I ever really loved, become the wind, a
sly knowing smile on her face. She challenges the
youma to a race to the death. I can see the fear
in its eyes, even from here, as it realizes the
warrior it stupidly attacked holds more strength
than itself. I slow, allowing them to race ahead.
After all, this is her fight, not mine.
I watch, a strange sense of pride taking room in
my heart, seeing my dear partner in action. The
youma spins, hoping to surprise her, but in vain.
I think I can see her eyes, sparkling with a
perverse kind of pleasure, from my solitary place.
The youma throws back its head, lets out a long
low howl, and leaps toward Haruka, claws bared,
their sharpness apparent even from here. My
partner leaps back, with all the grace in the
world, and lands at a safe distance.
A soft movement behind me, hardly noticeable,
yet vaguely insistently important, somehow.
I turn, just as I hear the youma's doomsday
curse, "World Shaking!" Its last pitiful cry
echoes only a moment before the end. I turn,
full of innocence, yet how innocent can a
heartless murderer really be? The youma, now
lying as a smoldering heap of dead flesh on the
ground, brought with it an ally. Perhaps because
it would be fair this way, two for two, or maybe
just a stroke of ill-fated luck. Whatever the
reason, I was unprepared for the looming creature.
My eyes widen in shock, as I feel that childlike
locking of muscles. This youma has no trouble
advancing on me, attacking with bared talons.
I feel them rip into my side, slicing through
my fuku as though it didn't exist, and into my
tender flesh. It feels strange, this pain,
mainly because it doesn't really hurt. It's more
like a separated feeling, as one already being
pulled from all they have grown to know,
something that hurts just as much. My arms
unlock, and glide down as if in slow motion to
my wound. They return to my view, completely
stained with my crimson blood. Somehow the shock
hasn't registered yet, I don't believe that such
a thing is really happening to me.
"Michiru?!" she cries, though whether it's meant
as a question, or just a word born out of
surprise I'm unsure. The youma glances up,
sees the approaching warrior, and quickly makes
a decision. It pulls its arm from my side- Was
it still holding me? -and throws me to the ground
like a piece of rejected meat. I glance up, as my
strength flows out along with my blood, barely
able to see Haruka reach my side. She looks
confused, unsure as to whether she should follow
the escaping youma, or remain here.
Without another word, though in her heart I
know she is screaming, she drops to her knees
beside my fallen form. I struggle to say
something, even if only her name, but can't.
My warrior wraps her arms around me, pulls my
still body close to her heart. My blood flows
freely onto her, stains her as well. I see
myself, reflected in her beautiful emerald eyes,
force myself to smile, and allow darkness to
overcome. My lover shakes, trembles with
My eagle has fallen.
I wish to speak her name, as I had in the past,
and have her turn to me with a cocky smile on
her face, her golden hair falling over her eyes
in a tangled heap, saying "Nani?" in that way
that had always warmed my heart. But she won't
and hasn't heard my calls, therefore she can't
answer. Her voice, my ears long for it. Her
touch, I long for it. But there is no chance,
no voice. Not anymore.
She balls her hand into a fist, and slams it
against the window with all the force she can
muster. There is a sharp crack, as a thin line
spreads quickly over the glass, but it doesn't
shatter. Her fist trembles, out of rage, out of
heartbreak. I know...I feel the same. Her eyes
close and another sigh escapes into the world from
her lips. Her mind remains hidden, kept safe
from my clutches. I have gained the wings she
lost. Such cruel ironic fate it is.
I draw her image, every aspect I know of, into
my mind and seal them there. My time here is
short, and grows shorter every moment and whether
I can return is, and remains, uncertain. If only
she will speak, utter a single word. But she
doesn't, so I must remember her voice only from
her pitiful last words to me. I lean in close,
allow my lips to brush her soft cheek with care,
though I know she can't feel it. In her mind,
she is still screaming. I can see it in the
green fire of her eyes. She blames herself, I
know, and yet passing breezes brushing over her
face, I can't change that.
I see tears well in the corners of her eyes, and
a single sparkling drop slide down her cheek and
travel down to the floor below. My heart weeps
as well, shattering into countless pieces, but my
lifeless cheeks remain dry, as they will forever.
I cry dry tears for her.