The Scrapped Ending

Written by Leila Winters

NOTE: This was thrown out in the early planning stages, but I wrote it anyway (quickly) because if the story had gone in a different direction, this would have been a nice epilogue.

It felt too Hollywood to be a serious ending. And it kind of defeats the entire purpose of the first part of the story.


The moving men hauled couches and dressers and rugs from the giant estate.

"Wait, wait," a woman called, running up to the men who were carrying two large covered canvases. "Which are these?"

"Uh, for a Miss Takani?"

"Yes, that's me," she said, flashing her I.D. "I won these at the auction. Can you put them in my truck?"


"A shame what happened to the owner," her male driver said.

She pursed her lips. "I'm not sad at all. It took too long and too much money to get these back."

They pulled in front of her own estate.

"I'll have someone bring these inside and put them up in the lounge," he said.

"Thank you, Geoffrey."


They had been unveiled and they stared at the pair of eyes that stared back with age.

"The resemblance really is remarkable," he said, unable to break his gaze.

She smiled, eyes moist with emotion as she stood mesmerized by the two faces rendered so beautifully and life-like in oil. "You really think so?"

She stretched out a hand and traced the engraving of the plaque in the painting's frame. The Doctor.

"I've finally brought you home."


She set her cup down and sighed heavily.

"What's wrong, young miss? Something troubling you?"

"No, it's all right. It's just—" she looked over at the two elegantly painted figures again. "I just kind of realized why my father never wanted to contact me again after—after that time."

"You were so young then. Do you remember what happened?"

She looked perturbed. "Of course I do! How would any child ever forget?"

She remembered the screaming.

"Is it mine?"

"Please, stop. Oh god. What have you done?"

"Answer the motherfucken question, you whore."

Sobbing. "Why are you doing this?"

Two more loud shots.

"STOP IT! Can't you see he's already dead??"

"Answer me. Is that THING mine?"

"God. Please. Don't do this. Don't hurt her."

Two shots and a thud.

She was shaking as she slipped into the closet, trying not to cry. A few minutes later, there were footsteps and her father's voice:

"Pumpkin? Are you home? You can come out now. We're not fighting anymore."

"Miss?"

She tried to dispel the glazed look on her face as memory encroached her present.

"They loved each other for years, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"Them," she said, face indicating the two paintings hanging proudly on the wall. "My mother and my father's security foreman. He was gone so much, I guess my mother got lonely."

"Your father was a great man."

"Maybe. On the day of the incident, he caught them together in the study."

It was quiet.

"Do you think they're happy, Geoffrey? The three of us used to have picnics in the garden when my father was away. I've never seen my mother so happy. I feel like…" she wiped a hand across her eyes. "…if they're not allowed to be happy after everything, what was it all for?"

"Don't do this to yourself. Your mother would not want to see you in this state."

She stood up suddenly. "What is with this house? Must every emotion be suppressed? When is anyone allowed to feel anything?"

He looked as though he was going to say something, then bowed his head and went to the door. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I am not the one you should speak with. But I think your father loved your mother a great deal. He was hurt when he found her with another man."

She waited to hear the click of the door latch before standing and moving in front of the portraits once again. She stared deep into her mother's eyes set in a face so much like her own.

And she felt those eyes tell her they were at peace at last.


END NOTES: In case there is confusion, when Miss Takani's mother was killed, her father was arrested and never spoke to his daughter again, even after his release. Many things were sold in order to keep the estate and the child cared for, including the paintings, which Kanryuu bought. Following his death years later, the paintings were recovered by Megumi Takani's daughter. The epilogue assumes that Aoshi and Megumi's painting didn't ultimately leave their canvases. The feelings they had in real life transferred over into their portraits.

Yeah. Hollywood.

(And it removes agency from the characters since they act only from a life they have no recollection of. It suggests that everything is fixed. Bah. Yet even so, I still imagine both plotlines running simultaneously, with and without, and it satisfies me.)