Disclaimer: This fanwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by Minekura Kazuya. No copyright infringement is intended or implied. No profit made.
Well, here we are. Or rather, here I am. Twenty-one years later, and many happy returns of the day...do they say that for this kind of thing? I don't know. I suppose I'm a little out of touch with the workings of normalcy in the world. More now? Perhaps, but I rather suspect not. Ah, the blessing of time is in the curling corners of our minds, no?
But back to the point, I think. Ah, yes! The inexorable passage of time over hearts and minds...and bodies, if it comes to that, though they matter little in the end. Twenty-one years have left their marks, and I don't mind that. Preservation is for those filled with hope and fear and I am prey for neither. I admit to having grown curious over the years, though. Was this knowledge, this acceptance, yet another of those mirrors? Always, it seemed that we arrived in the same place, on opposite sides of the glass. Hmm. Transcendence on one side, abandonment on the other. Oh, yes. I like that. Shall we drink to it?
It's strangely quiet here, you know. For all that happens here, for all the machinations and the rage, the surface remains tranquil. I suppose that's an observation repeated from another time and place though, is it not? One, perhaps, borrowed from an old friend by the grace of a fold in time. Appropriate, on a night of celebration and reflection. I remember you, oh yes, and I remember me...through your eyes as well. Indulgent smile for a toddler with a weapon. A ghost, rattling angry chains in the night, the one who listened and called it music. And so it became, for the beat of a heart.
I still long for it, the balance of that time. Yes, I can hear your quiet chuckle, if I listen hard enough. Did you think I learned nothing? Ah, but that is unfair of me. You saw what you did to me, despite my best efforts, and I think it amused you to watch my struggles. Understandably so, though I didn't comprehend it at the time. A toast, then. To the slow fuse of youth, wielding tools too large for immature hands. Another, to the shelter of understanding that keeps it safe, until it puts itself out. The transformative power of intention...it never fails to please me, though I expect you would shake your head at my uses for it. But you can't, and the memory is simply not enough.
The moon is a sliver in the sky, tonight. I wanted it to be full, but I never could dictate such things. A remedial lesson, perhaps? A reminder that for all my power, I cannot have the things I truly want. Strange to think that I could unmake the world with a few well-placed objects and words, but I will never be able to negate that one thing. Stranger still is the knowledge that it is the one thing in which the other one would not willingly oppose me. Mm, but that would simply unravel the tapestry, all that came from it fraying out of existence. Wouldn't it? The laws of cause and effect demand their price, and it is forever.
The time draws near, and my skin itches for the feel of silk. Soon the final act will come to pass, and we shall see where that takes us. Perhaps I will die, and that will be a fitting end. Though there really is none that is fit for me, just as there never was an end that was good enough for you. And yet, one did find you. I will be the same, finished in a manner neither good enough nor bad enough to suit my particular place in the story. I hear your laughter again, old friend. I wonder if it's for my insight, or my foolishness. You had, always and ever, the only true measure of my capacity for either.
It is late, and I have disturbed you enough. So, one more toast, that I will meet you somewhere down the path, for I am tired now and wish to rest.