Act One

She lay, covered in nothing but a sheet, in the mud, waiting to die. Blood poured from her wounds, matching her short red hair. Despite her inward protests, tears spilled from her eyes, diluting the murky water even more, as the rain fell down on her.

Help

She wasn't sure whether or not she said it aloud or not, but she doubted it for the weakness in her body.

Help

When would the sweet salvation of death come? It was taking forever, and the pain fell on her like the rain, the red rain...

Help me

She shivered as the water fell through the flimsy cloth onto her bare skin. She was filthy, she knew, but she had no dignity, so it didn't matter. Everything had already been taken.

Somebody

The world became a blur of red, of pattering rain, of cold, of pain, of mud. She now could barely distinguish between the blood and the muddy water.

Anybody!

Pit pat pit pat pit pat pit pat pit pat pit pat creak pit pat pit pat creak pit pat pit pat whosthere...

Sounds interrupted the constant pitter patter of the rain; perhaps it was a voice, but she had forgotten what they sounded like.

Areyouokayhellocanyouhearme

The irregular sounds continued as something, something hovered over her, and the world faded to black...

---

Flicker.

A flicker of light in the darkness.

Come back.

So she did.

She was in a large, earth smelling room, with a fire burning in the hearth. She huddled close to it, remembering the cold; the terrible, terrible haunting cold...

"'r you okay?"

She turned quick, too quick, to stare at the person who asked the question.

His hair was red, like her own, and his green eyes stared piercingly at her.

"Found you by the roadside. You've been going through some tough times, I take it?" he questioned. She stared at him, eyes wide, before giving a slow and steady nod.

"Well, stay here a while. I don't mind." She was still wrapped in only a cloak (a different one, she noticed, from the sheet that had been thrown on her), but she still felt as though she could have flown at him and embraced him.

"W...what's your name?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yanisawa Yukito. You?"

"T...Takanori Yuri."

And that was the first time they met.

---

Act Two

Her hair was dark brown, and seemed to glow against the cherry blossoms. Kimono flapping wildly in the wind, she brushed strands out of face, gazing at the moon.

"Can I join you?"

A young man, with short dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She peered down at him before nodding slowly.

He climbed onto the branch on which she sat with ease, and together, they sat, staring at the moon.

"Beautiful, ain't it?"

"Indeed it is..."

"Do you come here a lot?" he asked.

"Yes... I love it here."

"Why?"

"Because it's beautiful."

"That's why?"

"Do I need another reason?"

"No, I guess not."

The night continued in silence.

The stars above them twinkled and reflected in their eyes as they stared on, together. Because that was what really mattered.

Together, the moon was that much more beautiful. Together, the stars twinkled all that much brighter. Together, everything shone much more than it should've.

The silence continued, but it wasn't sad or awkward; it was peaceful.

"What's your name?"

"Nanasawa Yuki. Yours?"

"Ganenuki Yoshitaka."

And so they met a second time.

---

Act 3

Her hair was the night sky, a painting that curled around its subjects in a cool embrace. Her eyes were stars that twinkled in black, ripping holes in the darkness of midnight.

Stardust clung to her hair as she viewed the world around her, the sky singing like a harp when she raised her golden arm of silver dust.

He approached silently, a blazing fire, crackling and burning the hand of the artist. He called out to her with the loud pop of flames, soaring into the sky as a phoenix.

They called, a harp and phoenix song, to each other, as she sank downward and he rose to the heavens.

Her hand, made of sweet, sweet pastels, reached out to him, the soft melody of a flute playing from the ripples in the sky she created. She called his name again, tearing the cloak of night away and throwing it about him.

And then, quite suddenly, they were next to each other, embracing, a song of love, a song of passion, a sunset reflected upon the rippling ocean.

As Vega and Helios, they met a third time.

---

Act 4

Her black hair was tied in a ponytail as she dressed in her equally dark uniform. She stared at herself in the mirror, pale skin appearing snow white against the black of everything else.

She stepped out of her quarters and into the open streets, making her way to what would be her new work place. Leers and perverted glances were sent in her direction, but she ignored them as she stepped forward into her future.

She slowly opened the door, and was shown to a room by a man standing at the door. She kneeled respectfully, waiting for her initiation.

As she waiting, her hands became fists in her rough pitch black uniform. She stared sternly at the never opening door across from her for what seemed like hours. Sweat played on her temples and fell onto her robes.

Finally, the door opened and in he stepped, shouting at other members to shut up, he was greeting a new member. After he had finished his bout, he stood up and looked her over. His hair was pitch black and his eyes, ice blue.

"Yo," he said rather informally. "I'm Shiba Kaien, vice captain of the thirteenth squad. But really, I take care of most of the captain things too, so you can call me Captain Kaien if ya want."

"Hello," she replied. "I'm Toudaiji Miyako."

They met a fourth time.

---

The Final Act

She cried, and cried, and cried, feeling a warm hand on her back, sitting next to her. Everything was wrong, and nothing would ever be right again.

"It's alright," he said, "it's alright."

---

Night had fallen, and she stood at his bedside, ready to leave. She grasped his hand, and leaned to kiss him; but her tears stopped her.

I wish I could live life five times over.

He lay there, eyes closed, bandages about him, as she engraved his person in her mind. His smell, the feel of his hand, every short lash from his eyes, his short tufts of hair.

Each time I lived, I'd...

Smiling, her cheeks still flushed, she held his hand again, healing his wounds with a short flicker. The warmth of her hand in his stayed in her mind, an eternal warmth she wouldn't give up for the world.

I'd...

And gently kissing his cheek, face stained with tears, she thanked him and left.

And that was the fifth time, the fifth life in which they met – which ended not with a greeting, but with a farewell.

---

She did indeed life five times, and so did he.

And each time, she fell in love with him.

End---