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Sakura-Angel: HOLY CRAP LAME TITLE ALERT. Wow, I just realized I wrote MORE serious!Sorata. What is with me?
Sometimes he wondered what it'd be like to be selfish.
He sat tiredly in the fork of the tree, strong branch extending past his window and up towards the half moon hung crookedly in the sky, looking for all the world like a tear in dark, starry fabric.
It was a beautiful night. It was a little humid, but the breeze took care of that, rustling leaves and occasionally plucking them off their stems. It was a good night to let your mind wander.
He laughed absently to himself as he thought of the naïveté of everyone else on the planet, and sometimes even the younger Seals. They didn't know what they were in for.
He'd been trained, ever since that fateful, life-changing night, to care for others. And only others.
He didn't mean care as in neglect himself, he meant care as in put-the-whole-planet-before-yourself, die-for-the-woman-you-love kind of care.
Sometimes he wondered if he could run away from it.
A running hero.
Who'd ever heard of that? Maybe he could be the first.
You know he couldn't even remember his mother's face? His own mother. Everytime he'd try to summon her image up, it would linger - the shape of her eyes, the curve of her jaw - and just like that, she'd disappear.
It's a sad thing, to not be able to remember what your mother looks like.
Sometimes he wondered how his life would've turned out if he ran back to his mother that day he went off with the monk. If he'd turned around and ran back down the road to her soft, billowy skirt and open arms. If he'd told her that he didn't want to be a hero, or anything to do with destiny.
What if he weren't a savior, a hero, a martyr-to-be, or whatever you wanted to call it?
He cast his eyes towards the scrap of moon in the sky, illuminating everything.
What if?
He closed his eyes and smiled to himself, knowing the answer already.
Nah. He'd miss it too much.