Title: Through a Window
Author: Girl Who Writes
Feedback: If you feel so moved.
Character: Setsuna, Endymion
Word Count: 400
Genre: Drama, Angst
Summary: How many times had he wanted to join her, ask her what she was reading, what she was thinking?
Notes: Set post-Black Moon (manga) in Crystal Tokyo. I was going for something more subtle than I think this turned out, but it works.
Disclaimer: The characters of Sailor Moon belong to Toei, Bandai and Naoko Takeuchi. I make no profit from this fan-based venture.
He often saw her in the gardens, underneath the cherry tree. Her long dark hair wound up in a bun, her long dress grazing the grass as she took a seat on the little stone bench – the one with the roses carved around the sides.
She'd sit for hours, underneath that tree, sometimes reading and sometimes staring off at something only she could see.
How many times had he wanted to join her, ask her what she was reading, what she was thinking?
He never did. Never stepped into the sunlight with her, never found out why she always chose that space to sit, that particular bench. Whenever they spoke, there were always other words to be said.
And then, there was the child. The little girl with the feathery black hair and the enormous eyes, who he only saw once but remembered every day after that. She wasn't very old, less than a year. She lay on a blanket under the tree, and would wave her tiny fists at the butterflies at hovered just above her head.
He remembered wanting to go out there, to interrupt her peace and know who the child was; where she had come from. But he stayed seated and turned away from the window.
And now... now there was no one left to ask.
The garden outside of Endymion's office had been destroyed in the attacks; the stone bench smashed in half and the tree shriveled from the dark energy. A silver plaque in the Memorial Gardens read her name. And Small Lady would never be the same, would always carry that dreadful knowledge of what one's weakness could bring.
Just like her father.
And then there was the child with the beautiful eyes. The reason he so often found himself
outside of her crypt, staring at her still body encased in a crystal casket.
Where ever that little girl was now, only she knew. He couldn't even guess where the Time Guardian would keep something – someone – she thought precious. He didn't even know where to start looking. And no matter how long he stared at her cold face, no epiphany ever came.
A little girl lost in time and space.
A dead woman, the most dedicated soldier that would never make the history books.
A broken bench and a dying tree.
And King Endymion returned to his office and drew the curtains closed.