Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Vessels of Fate; Blood of the Mountains ❯ The hard forgotten. ( Chapter 4 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: aoi_no_kansei 
Anime/Manga: Sailor Moon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Shoujo-ai | Uploaded On: 03.14.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 320 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Sailor Moon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Shoujo-ai | Uploaded On: 03.14.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 320 | Status: Completed
Author's notes- Everything is coming together surprisingly well. I hadn't much
direction when I started this piece, but now that I've written an outline,
I've found inspiration much more easily. Also, this story has been a
lovely platform for probing characterisation I had been dying to do in pieces
for a while now. I hope you all are enjoy it!
As always, if you have any criticisms, please leave a review or email me! They
are always welcomed.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Vessels of Fate-
Blood of the Mountains
By Monikku
Makoto sat at a large circular table, a glass of red juice shimmering
in the sunlight, generously shining in through the large glass windows of the
teahouse. Trepidation tugged at her face; she pondered. She fiddled with
the corner of the page of her book. As she built the courage to address- no,
confront- the girl before her, she found another reason to keep her thoughts
and feelings hidden.
Ami read her newspaper with usual studiousness. Had she been with anyone
other than one of her trusted friends, her partners, her fellow senshi, she
might feel rude by the act. She may have felt an obligation to pay overt
attention to the one in her presence. However, over the years, the casual
nature of her relationships with her friends granted them these kinds of
small freedoms. These small gestures that showed, truly, how close they all
had grown.
"Hey, Ami-chan?" Makoto began, the unsteadiness of her voice readily
apparent.
Ami looked up from her newspaper to eyes that seemed questioning and
unsure of themselves. Ami hadn't often seen Makoto look this way, though she
knew the girl to be self-conscious in the past, what would cause this look to
arise now? She suspected she would find out soon enough.
"Yes, Mako-chan?"
"Well, uhm, I'm not certain how to say this. I'm probably going to sound
like a terrible person." Makoto hesitated briefly, "Maybe I am."
Ami's puzzlement overwhelmed her, she had never seen Makoto look so
guilt-ridden in the many years she had known the girl. "Mako-chan?"
"It's just," Makoto continued on, ignoring Ami's response, "well, I'm
appreciative. I really am! We've fought so hard for so many years, and this
time is what we've longed for! I am so grateful to have achieved it with my
friends, it's just that... all of this peace. I dunno, Ami-chan. Something in
me feels kind of... restless or empty. I feel..."
"Like a warrior with no war?" Ami interrupted.
"Something like that. I guess I feel like, I am a protector with nothing
to protect against. We've fought nonstop for so long, and now that there is
peace, sometimes, I guess it feels really foreign. I would rather never fight
again, but at the same time... something within me feels that... I should be.
I am a senshi, right?" Tears began to well in Makoto's eyes as she continued
on, "I mean, you're reading that paper, and all they talk about on the front
page is the fires. The news reports it constantly, everyone is in a panic,
and part of me..." Makoto's tears begun slowly to shed, "Part of me just
wants it to be the cause of a youma!" Makoto then sobbed quietly, "I am such
a horrible horrible person, Ami-chan!"
Ami felt her chest clench, Makoto was not a horrible person, she was one
of the most sweet, giving, and caring people Ami had ever met. How could she
ever possibly convey to Makoto the gorgeous person she was? There were no
words for her to grasp at, there were no words to give justice to any of her
beloved friends.
Ami's pain heavily shadowed her features as she reached to hold Makoto's
hand. Ami was hesitant with her words, as she carefully selected and weighed
the gravity of each one spoken, "Makoto, you... are the very antithesis of
horrible." Ami paused, searching desperately for the right words, and chose
simply, as any hopeless child would, "You are beautiful."
"The way you feel, Mako-chan, sometimes... I feel similarly, as well. It
is surreal, the peace before us, it is too surreal."
"I have dreams, of fighting youmas, sometimes. Sometimes they are
nightmares," Makoto's voice was only a murmur, the agony of her words bore
such a heavy burden in her heart, "Sometimes they feel... good."
"I have dreams, also, Mako-chan." Ami's hold on Makoto's hand loosened a
bit, but never wavered, "I do not believe they feel... good... because we
relish fighting. I think they feel that way, because we love protecting.
Because protecting this planet didn't just give us a purpose, it set the
course for what will be a millennia of our existences'. Because we love this
planet, we love its people, and we love each other, and nothing feels better
... than ensuring its future. Our future."
Ami punctuated her thoughts, "Parents may not desire their children to
hurt, but they must feel pleased at being able to extinguish their
children's' pains, don't they?"
Makoto smirked as her tears lessened one by one to a mere drizzle, "Are
you suggesting we're parenting the world, Ami-chan?" She even managed the
smallest of giggles at the thought.
"Perhaps not," Ami paused, a smirk crept upon her face, as well, "But
this may be good practice."
Makoto closed her eyes, tightened her grip on her friend's hand, and let
out a deep sigh. The kind that sigh that spoke volumes of torment and relief.
Makoto opened her eyes once more, then gave Ami the gift of a smile of pure
appreciation. Ami's eyes averted for a short moment, as she felt a flash
of embarrassment fill her. Though she had come so far, she still was not
expert at dealing with emotions, muchless appreciation. She brought her eyes
back to Makoto's and returned her smile with one that spoke simply, "No
gratitude necessary."
Both girls, to outsiders' eyes, seemed they were sharing a touching,
loving moment together. Their fingers intertwined, smiling and exchanging
meaningful looks, minutes had passed, and no words were spoken. And to any
bemused outsiders who might know these particular girls, the suspicions were
no different, but the chance for good natured (or, perhaps ill natured) fun
was ready and prepared for pouncing.
"I'm heart broken." a deep, silken voice broke the two girls from their
reverie.
"Good afternoon, Haruka-san!" Ami greeted, as she pulled her hand from
Makoto's. A slight blush crept across her visage, one which Haruka found
charming.
Haruka bowed her head slightly and responded "Good afternoon, Ami-chan,
Mako-chan."
Makoto steeled herself before she took the bait proffered from
Haruka, "Why are you heart broken?"
Haruka slipped her right hand into the pocket of her slacks, one of her
many insinuating, hard-polished, heartthrob gestures, as she spoke, the
expression she wore was a mask of heart ache, "Here I was, torn between which
charming koi my heart would mate an eternity with, the fiery auburn or the
soothing blue, and here they have gone and fallen in love with one another."
Haruka looked away, embellishing the joke to timed perfection. Both girls
blushed furiously at the innuendo.
"Haruka," the melodic voice chastised good humouredly, "play nice." A
soft arm wove itself around Haruka's as the aqua haired vision stood beside
her. To the trained eye, one could easily see how the minute gesture, the
proximity, made Haruka stand firmer, she always appeared more grounded in
Michiru's presence.
Haruka stared at Michiru undauntingly, asserting her innocence, "I was."
"Good afternoon, Michiru-san." Makoto greeted.
"Good afternoon!" Michiru responded cheerfully. "Do the two of you, by
chance, have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?"
Makoto shook her head in the negative. Ami responded, "My archeology club
is having a meeting at five o'clock, but I am free until then."
Removing her arm from Haruka's, Michiru pressed her hands together before
her, a smile spread across her face, "Perfect! Would you like to come to the
house for some tea and socialising? Usagi and Mamoru will be arriving
shortly."
"Hotaru and Chibi-Usa have been tormenting Setsuna all day." Haruka
interjected, snickerering at the memory of her last image of the three,
Setsuna having been bombarded by the two with manga and school yard gossip.
"That would be wonderful!" Makoto responded.
"Ah, I should see if Minako and Rei are free as well, we could make an
event of it!" a light glimmered in Michiru's eyes, being the hostess was
something she always enjoyed. Haruka watched on bemused.
"Should we order more cakes?" Haruka asked.
"Oh, I hope you don't find this forward of me, but what kind of tea are
you serving?" Makoto rose from her seat to stand next to Michiru, "Not a
forward question at all, Mako-chan, I was thinking a blend of black and
spices." Michiru responded. "A light white European cake might go really well
with your selection!" Makoto replied with delight, both women left for the
counter, leaving Haruka and Ami behind.
Haruka watched on as the two figures walked on into the distance... to
spend her money. Haruka shrugged in defeat and looked over to Ami, then, in
monotone, spoke, "Women."
Ami smiled at Haruka with condolence.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Minako climbed into the F-1 racing machine. She ignored as boys ogled
her. Clothed tightly in active wear, her body still shimmered with the barest
sheen of sweat. Rei was not here. For the first time, perhaps ever, the
attention of the boys around her annoyed her.
She wanted them to disappear.
She stared at the list of top players. Haruka's initials were still at
the top from that day, the day she and Usagi followed her around, thinking
stupidly that Haruka was a boy. It never phased Minako to find the truth. "So
what if Haruka is a girl? She's still cool. She's still attractive, right?"
Minako was still attracted.
For years.
Minako inserted her yen and extended a deceptively delicate index finger
to press "Start." The same finger from which her deadly "love me chain"
attack springs forth.
"Haruka," Minako declared to herself, "Today, you are going down!" She
then blushed at the silliness of her own accidental innuendo. "Maybe you are
right now." she giggled to herself.
Minako revved the engine of her F-1 car, and waited impatiently for the
count down. Her left hand throttled the gear shift, her mind focused solely
on speeding ahead to victory. As "Go!" flashed across the screen, Minako
pressed the gas pedal down, and changed the gear shifts with the pressure of
her foot, her hands and feet moved in synchronicity, she felt she was one
with her car, with the machine. This kind of focus felt overwhelmingly
familiar to her; This dance, this game.
One by one, she passed the cars,
then lapped them.
One by one, her obstacles were removed,
then battered for good measure.
As she neared the finish line, she found that victory... Minako sighed.
"Haruka is the wind, afterall." Three and a half seconds, it didn't seem
much, but as Minako knew, in a race, it was everything. "I came close to
rivaling the wind, that must count for something." Minako took second place,
once again. This time, with some amount of pride. Three and a half seconds
was closer than most racers ever get to comparing with Haruka, as far as she
was concerned, she had done magnificently.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Rei-chan," her grandfather called from outside the door of the fireroom.
His face was one of concern as he entered the room. There, his grand daughter
sat close to the fire, her hands clasped together, she was rapt in
meditation. As far as he had known, Rei hadn't moved since last night. No
food, no water, she only consumed the fire, it was her only driving force.
This worried him.
"Rei-chan," he called again, and again, she did not acknowledge him, she
did not even flinch.
Her grandfather laid a plate of rice balls and a large glass of water by
the door, he spoke softly before exiting, in a voice that sounded nearly like
one of prayer, "Be careful of what you search for, sometimes it is best to
allow things to come to you as they are ready to be found."
The caring old man sighed, then left his grand daughter to her own
devices, and wished her well.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
End o' chapter four. Yeehaw.
email me if you have questions or suggestions
or wish to lavish me with praise
(the latter prefered, of course)- l0vecat @ hotmail.com
Oh, and I'm in South Florida, so, uh, if I don't post for a while,
my house might, like, not be here anymore. Whee! Good times.
Monikku.
direction when I started this piece, but now that I've written an outline,
I've found inspiration much more easily. Also, this story has been a
lovely platform for probing characterisation I had been dying to do in pieces
for a while now. I hope you all are enjoy it!
As always, if you have any criticisms, please leave a review or email me! They
are always welcomed.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Vessels of Fate-
Blood of the Mountains
By Monikku
Makoto sat at a large circular table, a glass of red juice shimmering
in the sunlight, generously shining in through the large glass windows of the
teahouse. Trepidation tugged at her face; she pondered. She fiddled with
the corner of the page of her book. As she built the courage to address- no,
confront- the girl before her, she found another reason to keep her thoughts
and feelings hidden.
Ami read her newspaper with usual studiousness. Had she been with anyone
other than one of her trusted friends, her partners, her fellow senshi, she
might feel rude by the act. She may have felt an obligation to pay overt
attention to the one in her presence. However, over the years, the casual
nature of her relationships with her friends granted them these kinds of
small freedoms. These small gestures that showed, truly, how close they all
had grown.
"Hey, Ami-chan?" Makoto began, the unsteadiness of her voice readily
apparent.
Ami looked up from her newspaper to eyes that seemed questioning and
unsure of themselves. Ami hadn't often seen Makoto look this way, though she
knew the girl to be self-conscious in the past, what would cause this look to
arise now? She suspected she would find out soon enough.
"Yes, Mako-chan?"
"Well, uhm, I'm not certain how to say this. I'm probably going to sound
like a terrible person." Makoto hesitated briefly, "Maybe I am."
Ami's puzzlement overwhelmed her, she had never seen Makoto look so
guilt-ridden in the many years she had known the girl. "Mako-chan?"
"It's just," Makoto continued on, ignoring Ami's response, "well, I'm
appreciative. I really am! We've fought so hard for so many years, and this
time is what we've longed for! I am so grateful to have achieved it with my
friends, it's just that... all of this peace. I dunno, Ami-chan. Something in
me feels kind of... restless or empty. I feel..."
"Like a warrior with no war?" Ami interrupted.
"Something like that. I guess I feel like, I am a protector with nothing
to protect against. We've fought nonstop for so long, and now that there is
peace, sometimes, I guess it feels really foreign. I would rather never fight
again, but at the same time... something within me feels that... I should be.
I am a senshi, right?" Tears began to well in Makoto's eyes as she continued
on, "I mean, you're reading that paper, and all they talk about on the front
page is the fires. The news reports it constantly, everyone is in a panic,
and part of me..." Makoto's tears begun slowly to shed, "Part of me just
wants it to be the cause of a youma!" Makoto then sobbed quietly, "I am such
a horrible horrible person, Ami-chan!"
Ami felt her chest clench, Makoto was not a horrible person, she was one
of the most sweet, giving, and caring people Ami had ever met. How could she
ever possibly convey to Makoto the gorgeous person she was? There were no
words for her to grasp at, there were no words to give justice to any of her
beloved friends.
Ami's pain heavily shadowed her features as she reached to hold Makoto's
hand. Ami was hesitant with her words, as she carefully selected and weighed
the gravity of each one spoken, "Makoto, you... are the very antithesis of
horrible." Ami paused, searching desperately for the right words, and chose
simply, as any hopeless child would, "You are beautiful."
"The way you feel, Mako-chan, sometimes... I feel similarly, as well. It
is surreal, the peace before us, it is too surreal."
"I have dreams, of fighting youmas, sometimes. Sometimes they are
nightmares," Makoto's voice was only a murmur, the agony of her words bore
such a heavy burden in her heart, "Sometimes they feel... good."
"I have dreams, also, Mako-chan." Ami's hold on Makoto's hand loosened a
bit, but never wavered, "I do not believe they feel... good... because we
relish fighting. I think they feel that way, because we love protecting.
Because protecting this planet didn't just give us a purpose, it set the
course for what will be a millennia of our existences'. Because we love this
planet, we love its people, and we love each other, and nothing feels better
... than ensuring its future. Our future."
Ami punctuated her thoughts, "Parents may not desire their children to
hurt, but they must feel pleased at being able to extinguish their
children's' pains, don't they?"
Makoto smirked as her tears lessened one by one to a mere drizzle, "Are
you suggesting we're parenting the world, Ami-chan?" She even managed the
smallest of giggles at the thought.
"Perhaps not," Ami paused, a smirk crept upon her face, as well, "But
this may be good practice."
Makoto closed her eyes, tightened her grip on her friend's hand, and let
out a deep sigh. The kind that sigh that spoke volumes of torment and relief.
Makoto opened her eyes once more, then gave Ami the gift of a smile of pure
appreciation. Ami's eyes averted for a short moment, as she felt a flash
of embarrassment fill her. Though she had come so far, she still was not
expert at dealing with emotions, muchless appreciation. She brought her eyes
back to Makoto's and returned her smile with one that spoke simply, "No
gratitude necessary."
Both girls, to outsiders' eyes, seemed they were sharing a touching,
loving moment together. Their fingers intertwined, smiling and exchanging
meaningful looks, minutes had passed, and no words were spoken. And to any
bemused outsiders who might know these particular girls, the suspicions were
no different, but the chance for good natured (or, perhaps ill natured) fun
was ready and prepared for pouncing.
"I'm heart broken." a deep, silken voice broke the two girls from their
reverie.
"Good afternoon, Haruka-san!" Ami greeted, as she pulled her hand from
Makoto's. A slight blush crept across her visage, one which Haruka found
charming.
Haruka bowed her head slightly and responded "Good afternoon, Ami-chan,
Mako-chan."
Makoto steeled herself before she took the bait proffered from
Haruka, "Why are you heart broken?"
Haruka slipped her right hand into the pocket of her slacks, one of her
many insinuating, hard-polished, heartthrob gestures, as she spoke, the
expression she wore was a mask of heart ache, "Here I was, torn between which
charming koi my heart would mate an eternity with, the fiery auburn or the
soothing blue, and here they have gone and fallen in love with one another."
Haruka looked away, embellishing the joke to timed perfection. Both girls
blushed furiously at the innuendo.
"Haruka," the melodic voice chastised good humouredly, "play nice." A
soft arm wove itself around Haruka's as the aqua haired vision stood beside
her. To the trained eye, one could easily see how the minute gesture, the
proximity, made Haruka stand firmer, she always appeared more grounded in
Michiru's presence.
Haruka stared at Michiru undauntingly, asserting her innocence, "I was."
"Good afternoon, Michiru-san." Makoto greeted.
"Good afternoon!" Michiru responded cheerfully. "Do the two of you, by
chance, have any plans for the rest of the afternoon?"
Makoto shook her head in the negative. Ami responded, "My archeology club
is having a meeting at five o'clock, but I am free until then."
Removing her arm from Haruka's, Michiru pressed her hands together before
her, a smile spread across her face, "Perfect! Would you like to come to the
house for some tea and socialising? Usagi and Mamoru will be arriving
shortly."
"Hotaru and Chibi-Usa have been tormenting Setsuna all day." Haruka
interjected, snickerering at the memory of her last image of the three,
Setsuna having been bombarded by the two with manga and school yard gossip.
"That would be wonderful!" Makoto responded.
"Ah, I should see if Minako and Rei are free as well, we could make an
event of it!" a light glimmered in Michiru's eyes, being the hostess was
something she always enjoyed. Haruka watched on bemused.
"Should we order more cakes?" Haruka asked.
"Oh, I hope you don't find this forward of me, but what kind of tea are
you serving?" Makoto rose from her seat to stand next to Michiru, "Not a
forward question at all, Mako-chan, I was thinking a blend of black and
spices." Michiru responded. "A light white European cake might go really well
with your selection!" Makoto replied with delight, both women left for the
counter, leaving Haruka and Ami behind.
Haruka watched on as the two figures walked on into the distance... to
spend her money. Haruka shrugged in defeat and looked over to Ami, then, in
monotone, spoke, "Women."
Ami smiled at Haruka with condolence.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Minako climbed into the F-1 racing machine. She ignored as boys ogled
her. Clothed tightly in active wear, her body still shimmered with the barest
sheen of sweat. Rei was not here. For the first time, perhaps ever, the
attention of the boys around her annoyed her.
She wanted them to disappear.
She stared at the list of top players. Haruka's initials were still at
the top from that day, the day she and Usagi followed her around, thinking
stupidly that Haruka was a boy. It never phased Minako to find the truth. "So
what if Haruka is a girl? She's still cool. She's still attractive, right?"
Minako was still attracted.
For years.
Minako inserted her yen and extended a deceptively delicate index finger
to press "Start." The same finger from which her deadly "love me chain"
attack springs forth.
"Haruka," Minako declared to herself, "Today, you are going down!" She
then blushed at the silliness of her own accidental innuendo. "Maybe you are
right now." she giggled to herself.
Minako revved the engine of her F-1 car, and waited impatiently for the
count down. Her left hand throttled the gear shift, her mind focused solely
on speeding ahead to victory. As "Go!" flashed across the screen, Minako
pressed the gas pedal down, and changed the gear shifts with the pressure of
her foot, her hands and feet moved in synchronicity, she felt she was one
with her car, with the machine. This kind of focus felt overwhelmingly
familiar to her; This dance, this game.
One by one, she passed the cars,
then lapped them.
One by one, her obstacles were removed,
then battered for good measure.
As she neared the finish line, she found that victory... Minako sighed.
"Haruka is the wind, afterall." Three and a half seconds, it didn't seem
much, but as Minako knew, in a race, it was everything. "I came close to
rivaling the wind, that must count for something." Minako took second place,
once again. This time, with some amount of pride. Three and a half seconds
was closer than most racers ever get to comparing with Haruka, as far as she
was concerned, she had done magnificently.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Rei-chan," her grandfather called from outside the door of the fireroom.
His face was one of concern as he entered the room. There, his grand daughter
sat close to the fire, her hands clasped together, she was rapt in
meditation. As far as he had known, Rei hadn't moved since last night. No
food, no water, she only consumed the fire, it was her only driving force.
This worried him.
"Rei-chan," he called again, and again, she did not acknowledge him, she
did not even flinch.
Her grandfather laid a plate of rice balls and a large glass of water by
the door, he spoke softly before exiting, in a voice that sounded nearly like
one of prayer, "Be careful of what you search for, sometimes it is best to
allow things to come to you as they are ready to be found."
The caring old man sighed, then left his grand daughter to her own
devices, and wished her well.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
End o' chapter four. Yeehaw.
email me if you have questions or suggestions
or wish to lavish me with praise
(the latter prefered, of course)- l0vecat @ hotmail.com
Oh, and I'm in South Florida, so, uh, if I don't post for a while,
my house might, like, not be here anymore. Whee! Good times.
Monikku.