Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon. It belongs to by Naoko Takeuchi.

Raindrop

Plib. Plib. Plib.

Kino Makoto stared moodily out into the cloudy sky. People hurried past her apartment block, colourful umbrellas hiding them from her view. Rain splattered against the window, the only sound in the apartment other than her quiet breathing. Well that and the ticking of a clock.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

The rain was harder now, falling from the black clouds. Lightening flashed outside, lighting up the room. Makoto strained her ears for the sound of thunder, and was rewarded by a huge clap. Her fingers pushed against the glass pane, and her auburn curls brushed against her cheeks.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

It was raining on that day too. Huge torrents of it, drenching her hair, her black dress, her soul. The perfect weather for the occurrence. The twin grey tombstones stared at her, like blank eyes. Like her Mama's eyes now. Like Papa's eyes. They were both full of life once, but now were dim and unfamiliar.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

It wasn't raining on the day she lost them though. Well not at the beginning at least. It was a brilliant sunny day, and although she was sad to see them go, six year old Makoto held onto her Grandmother's hand, and waved goodbye to her parents. They would be back.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

But they never came back. Those last waves were their last. The last hugs, the last kiss, the last time Makoto ever saw them. Well saw them alive to be precise. She remembered seeing them in their coffins, surrounded by fragrant flowers, faces peaceful and unseeing.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

Just like now there was a storm. It came out of no-where, tearing into the plane her parents had boarded, tearing it apart. Tearing them apart. Tearing her heart apart. Tearing their family apart. They had been found, two days later, floating in the ocean, their voices silent.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

After that she had gone to live with her Grandmother. The elderly woman had cared for her, feed her clothed her and taught her to do those things herself. Then one day she was gone. Makoto could still remember the day she had walked upstairs to find her Grandmother silent in her bed.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

It had rained the night before. Makoto remembered her twelve year old self, running her fingers through the raindrops of her window sill. She remembered walking up the stairs, finding the cold body that wouldn't respond to her calls, the voices of neighbours and hospital people.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

She remembered the funeral. Different cemetery, different black dress, different weather. The skies threatened to pour all day, but didn't until the end of the ceremony. Mind numb, Makoto stood there, letting the water run over her, cleanse her in a way. At least until another relative pulled her away.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

After her Grandmother Makoto moved around a few times. Various Uncles and Aunts, even the occasional second cousin. None of them wanted her. Not the closed child who occasionally took to fighting to solve her problems. Not the little girl who still cried silently when all were asleep. Not Makoto.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

Just after she turned fourteen she heard something calling her. Something important, carried on the wind. She packed her bags, and fled into the night. Eventually she wound up Juuban, the place she was called to. With luck she found an apartment and resumed her life, waiting for the moment she was to have.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

Everything began after that. She made new friends, discovered a past life, powers she was born to have. Battles were fought, lives were lost, even her own a few times. But she didn't mind. Not really. It was her duty after all. The thing she had been called for. She would protect her Princess.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

It still hurt though. All the losses. Her Mother and Father, her Grandmother. The ones from her long forgotten past. A Mother, Father, other relatives, a kingdom full of people. Her Princess and friends. All gone. Torn from her when she needed them.

Plib. Plib. Plib.

Slowly as the rain hit the window Makoto let her tears run out of her. She let her head fall against the window, her breath misting over the glass. The glass pane was cold against her forehead, as cold as her heart once had been. Tears ran down her cheeks matching the raindrops outside.

Plib. Plib. Plib………

AN: It was raining when I wrote this so it came out very saddish. Was originally going to be Usagi, but then I realised I was yet to write something from Makoto's view. Most of her family life is made up, excluding the plane crash. Any mistakes please tell.