Disclaimer: I don't own Tenchi Muyo or any of the characters blah blah blah and all that other good stuff

A/N: Yup, a lot of conflicting emotions in this one.
Red Wine

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It's so cold on this God-forsaken planet. It's always cold. I guess it doesn't bother me much anymore. Then again, after what I've been through, you wouldn't think anything would bother me much anymore, huh?

Well, you're wrong. You're all wrong.

Don't think you know everything about me, because you don't. You know nothing about me.

Nor does anyone else. Those who once did are dead.

There are only two types of people: the smart ones and the naïve ones. The smart ones stay away from me and leave me alone. Those who don't are the naïve ones; the ones who think they can re-sculpt a ruined statue.

Well, needless to say, most of them are dead by now. You were once one of them.

It's been so long, but I haven't forgotten your face. No, I never forget the face of one who's crossed me. That false face that greeted me happily every morning when we were out in space - to think I let you try to heal my wounds!

Wounds that bled blood rose; the type that cut so deep, only warmth and time could soften them. Then again, it's just stupid to let the one who cut you try to mend you, huh?

It's so cold here. Like space. . .

Didn't you love it up there? Didn't you feel your blood soar each time we tried Death's patience? Did your soul not thrive off the thrill of each reckless mission? Fall into contentment as space's endless waves of nothingness mold into your body?

As I step forward, the packed snow crunches loudly. The slush seeps through my clothing, but my body's too numb to feel anyway. The stupid blizzard wind whips my face, but I bear it with a dark scowl. What's up with this planet and it's perpetual winter wonderland?

I bite down on my lips hard enough to draw blood. I won't look back, but I know the heavy footsteps behind me have already been covered up by this cursed planet's blanket of soft, white tears. I could save the hassle by flying over to your thrice-damned ship, or even teleporting there, but instead I'm walking.

You're not worth that. You're NOT, do you hear me?! No, no, you'll never be worth it.

Not after that. I guess you could almost say I had once thought of you as my hero. The hero that saved me from destroying myself in despair when I saw Tenchi and that Sakuya kiss at the carnival. I always knew you'd be someone special, I knew on the day I first set eyes on you.

But I never thought I would have to end with this, Hotsuma, my friend. Something bitter taste lingers in my mouth. You knew you'd always have a special place in my heart, didn't you?

You selfish bastard.

And yet, my only regret is my only joy. I can't say I wished I never met you, but I can't say I wish I didn't, either.

Life always deals people like us unfair cards. It's all in how you play them. You pulled out your trump card too soon. If you had just waited. . .maybe things would have been different.

At last your pathetic, hollow ship is in sight. Still in the same place, in the same position. A harsh laugh rips through my throat savagely I thought of the many things I should have done when I had the chance.

I should have killed you sooner.

No, I should have confessed to you sooner. You would have listened. You've always listened.

Even if it was just to get under my skin.

I miss your mischievous grin that gave me the goose bumps. Your arrogant, yet gentle blue eyes that drowned me in spicy sweetness and irritated me constantly. Your long, streaks of sunshine locks that draped over your shoulders in careless caress. Your soft, understanding, and yet possessive touch.

If only you were here. But now it's too late.

Peering in the direction I last left you, I see you're still in that ice coffin. Sleeping Beauty, or rather Snow White, perhaps?

I brought you a gift this time. Would you appreciate it? I would have laughed if not for my weariness. Does anyone ever?

I tucked the stems into the packed snow so it'll still be there when you wake up. Then I'll have the pleasure of killing you again, won't I?

No, that part of my life is over, and you're never waking up again. I'll make sure of it.

The deep red petals look like drops of blood on white, porcelain skin. Did you know I searched far and wide for these specific blossoms? They stay this shade of blood red in the coldest climates.

I'll be back soon enough. Perhaps by then you'll have woken up.

Yes, perhaps you'll wake up next year.