Chapter 3:

Die Silbermond und Sterne

-the silver moon & stars-


The young girl awoke in a hospital bed. Apparently she had fallen asleep in the captain's arms on the way to the hospital. However, when she turned to finally look around the immaculately white and sterile room she was in, she was alone. Apparently she had been knocked out for at least a day since the incident. She looked at the clock that read 4 PM. It was 8 AM back in Vienna; she was still jet-lagged. Kunimitsu's still at tennis practice, isn't he? She tried to prop herself up in bed, but mistakenly tried to place the weight upon her right arm. Bad move. She fell back upon the bed clenching her shoulder in pain. This familiar and not-too-long-ago scenario brought the implications of her actions to the forefront of her mind. If the pain was this bad, there's no doubt she'd have undergo physical therapy all over again. She sighed out in a melancholic manner. Just when I thought things were finally going well too. She looked at the clock once again, not even 10 minutes had past.

Well there's no use in sulking is there? I might as well take my time to look around this hospital. Another bad move. Her fatal flaw of being directionally challenged was exacerbated in this maze of similar looking hallways and rooms with titles of Kanji that she couldn't really read. After wandering around for quite awhile around the premises, she heard a familiar noise. It was a violin, and a badly played one at that. Turning the corner and heading towards the sound, she came upon the hospital's lounge. Further ahead she saw a girl around her age hopelessly trying to play Vivaldi's La Primavera. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. She remembered playing that very same piece when she was 5 for own debut concert back in Vienna. But soon her small smile was immediately replaced with an overarching frown. She now looked upon the violinist with annoyance and disdain. "Pathetic," she whispered. Irritation started to build up within her. Her intervals are all wrong. That bowing technique is horrible. She's applying too much pressure. All she now could hear was the violin's pleas to be played to its upmost potential. For a moment, she entertained the idea of going over the girl and showing her how it was really done, but the dull ache in her shoulder coerced her into thinking otherwise. She soon found herself sick to her stomach. She couldn't bear to be around the atrocious sound of the other girl's violin. Restroom. I need to find a restroom. She backed away slowly from the sound, as her eyes darted back and forth looking for the nearest area for relief. Turning around, she was able to make out the katakana on the sign behind her that read "toilet." Quickly running in the direction the sign pointed in, she found herself alone in the girl's bathroom. Locking the door and holding herself over the sink, nothing came out except for words. "You're no good… You have no talent…" The words themselves were barely above a whisper. She lifted her head up and took a good look at herself in the mirror. She just realized how much the pain took a toll on her. Her hair was slightly disheveled, eyes showing signs of fatigue, and her skin was pallid. She cracked a slightly deranged smile at the sight of herself. Unconsciously, her hand had started to curl into a first. Suddenly, her reflected image had become opaque and cracked. It was now a stained glass of her broken self and blood. Dragging her fingers over the shattered glass, she spelled out the word "failure" before collapsing onto the restroom floor.


The young girl awoke in a hospital bed. Apparently she had passed out due to blood loss. When she tried to turn to look around the immaculately white and sterile room she was once again in, she found that she couldn't. Apparently she had been strapped down to the bed. She frowned. Suicide watch. She at least tried to turn her head to look at the clock that read 8 PM. It was 12 PM back in Vienna, but she was no longer jet-lagged. On the contrary, she felt wide-awake. Albeit, slightly drained, but awake. She also felt something grasping her hand. Looking towards the side of her bed, Tezuka had his head resting atop the bed, sleeping. How long has he been here? Suddenly he heard the boy whisper something amongst his sleep. "My… fault. I'm… sorry…" In response, her thoughts tried to convey him that it was not his fault at all. Silly boy. This was none of your fault to begin with. She subconsciously clasped the boy's hand tighter. This different scenario brought the implications of her actions to the forefront of her mind. If she started dragging other people down into her depths of misery, she was sure that she could never forgive herself. She sighed out in a melancholic manner. Just when I thought things were finally going to end. She looked at the clock once again, not even 10 minutes had past.

Turning her head towards the other side, she noticed the night sky through the window. "Funkel… funkel… kleiner sterne." ("Twinkle… twinkle… little star.") Whatever possessed her to sing this childhood song, she did not know. All she did know was that she felt uncontrollably nostalgic, longing for a time where none of this happened.

"Ach wie bist du mir so fern." ("Up above the world so high.")

She heard a tenor's voice smoothly singing the next line of the song from behind her, interrupting her thoughts. She snapped her head to the other side. Her eyes were met with his steady gaze. Somehow his eyes looked pained to her, and she wanted to reach out to give him solace, but her limbs were still bound. "…Ku— Tezuka. I'm… sorry." Her voice was barely audible, but it still pierced the silence between the two. She broke away from his gaze, feeling the tears well up in her eyes.

"Tezu—" He cut himself off. What she calls me is beside the point. More importantly… "Are you… okay?"

Silence. He should've been used to this by now, but staring at the girl's face that was turned away from him told him to be concerned. Unexpectedly to him, he saw tears starting to flow down the girls face. No sound, but the tears were enough of an excuse for him to do what he was about to do.

She closed her eyes. She wanted to hide away. Bury her head into her hands. Anything would do. She didn't want him to see her like this, being confined to a bed. The bandages seeped with blood around her wrists and hand spoke louder than any words she could've said. Her eyes slowly opened. She could make out Tezuka's profile that was directly above her through her tear-blurred vision. Wait. Above me? "Te—!" Before she could say anything, his mouth silenced hers.

Above them, the silver moon and stars bore witness to their intimate act.


A/N: This could've totally been a sex scene. No, seriously. Elmina's totally bound on the bed, and Tezuka could've easily taken advantage of her, but we all know he's more of a gentleman than that. ;D I have no idea what you fans were thinking but, that being said, "intimate act," does not imply sex whatsoever, and only refers the kiss they had. (_)

Notice in part 1 and 2, the introductory paragraph is nearly the same. I tried to give a feel of déjà vu. This chapter is somewhat deliberately short to give more priority to the fragile state of mind that Elmina is in. I hope I conveyed what she is going through at least somewhat effectively. Your input, reviews, comments, etc. would be greatly appreciated!