"Hello! Anybody there!" Haruka hollered.
It was dark, twilight at best. Obscure figures of daunting leafless and lifeless trees surrounded him. The ubiquitous thick mist obstructed his sight of path. It was freezing cold; his exhaled breaths condensed instantaneously. His bare body shivered, and reflexively braced himself in an attempt to preserve body heat. The smell of rotting flesh made him nauseated. Is there any other soul in this God forsaken place? Where was he? He had no idea! Perhaps, he was forced to wander this necropolis while he awaits his verdict. He could taste blood in the atmosphere. Indeed, limbo was a slaughter site of the damned!
Unspeakable acts and painful memories flashed through his mind, reliving every bit of each forsaken moment. Had he not dedicated the remainder of his life, for atonement? Was not forsaking to live his life for his own enough! Why does he have to be reminded of his sins? It all had to be done! He had no choice. The inrush of suppressed remorse had to be impeded! He ran like a maniac, pulling his hair like a parasitic weed. He had to get away from the taunting ridicules of the hypocritical faces materializing everywhere.
His flight was decelerated by silhouettes of biped terrestrial approaching his way. Terror reflected on his face when he recognized them as his unfortunate casualties. Would his trophies, certificates and medal ever match to the lives he had crushed? Decapitated, lacerated and gashed. They were all filthy and muddy. Each was armed and attired in their moment of slay. Vengeance was their common agendum. All had the same insatiable hatred in their eyes. Each growl was filled with misery.
His hands dripped with blood, their blood, thickened and overflowed. He knew what awaits him the minute they apprehend him. He had no choice but to flee.
Suddenly, fetters emerged from the ground, and shackled him. Vines enclosed his entire body, and pulled him to the pits of the ground. He was devoured alive.
His entire body was sore. He was in agony. Vine thorns and metallic clamps were embedded all over his bare body. The mixture of sweat and wound was excruciating. The heat of the spotlight swelter him. His arms, wrists, legs and ankles were individually bounded by heavy and rusty chains. A large, circular pillar stands between him and this bondage. It effectively incapacitated him, and submitted him of what awaits him. Inaudible noise became boisterous laughter, insulting hollers, and brutal mockery.
"Make him suffer!"
"Crucify him!"
"Bathe him in his own blood!"
He was in a coliseum, and he was the star of the show. He is to be judged of his atrocities. He recognized the quorum of presiding jury; those he had sacrificed and/or ruthlessly eliminated for a pragmatic cause be of calamity or conflict. Destroyed lives by his irresponsible philandering sadistically also partook in this apocalyptic celebration.
People spit at him. People stoned him. People cursed him. If not for the harness that restrained them, they would have executed justice personally. Yet, he freely accepted every whim, a resounding cry of his admission and concession.
At the sight of his parents, he understood the gravity of the situation. His poor mother was ashamed of the abomination he had become; was it not enough that his existence deprived his family of the compassionate wisdom of this woman? His father was disappointed at him for being the most pathetic Sangre in Uranian history! If only he had been an obedient and well-behaved child then, he would have endured the proper Sangre training rather than resort to Marsian mercenary breeding. His mischievous and defiant self cost the latter's life. What suppose to have been an aborted assassination plot became successful due to the chivalric act of the king to save the Sangre-to-be. Together with his father's untimely death, the esoteric Sangre training of the House of Tenoh was lost forever.
A stoic character 3 meters away from him seized his attention. She was about 6 years of age. She was wearing a white Sunday dress, and carrying a worn out teddy bear. She has wavy aqua hair, and her blue eyes were as deep as the ocean. She was sad and upset at the same time. She was crying a river of crimson tears. Despite her agony, she quietly stood still, watching him.
Michiru. His Michiru. How could he ever forget her? She was his joy, his love, his life! She was the only friend he had. She understood him. She loved him. She was everything to him. As children, they regularly met in their secret place to share stories or to indulge to their childhood fantasies. After that fateful day of the Uranian king's assassination, Haruka ceased to come. He needed to be alone. He had to be alone. No one had to share or know his pain; his burden is his alone. He knew she faithfully waited for him day after day, and often left with a heavy heart. Abruptly terminating ties with the only person that believed in him was dreadful, but it was for the best. One by one, those he loved were martyred on his account. He was determined she must be spared, even if he had to lose her.
The sight of this child was too much for him. It was the last straw. If they wanted him auto da face, so be it! The rhythmic contraction of the lump of cardiac muscle within his chest weakened at each beat. He shut off his eyes in preparation for his capitulation to demise.
"Haruka..." An angelic voice sparked s if droplet breaking the stillness of water, reverberating periodic ripples. His attempt to visibly recognize the owner of the voice was greeted by a blinding light emanating from a distant doorway. Still, he endeavored to see who this mysterious persona is.
"Please, don't look at me! Leave me alone, Amethyst!" He pleaded in a low voice, and shamefully avoided her gaze.
"I am not Amethyst. Who I am is of no importance." Attired in a white gala, her resemblance to Amethyst was striking. Her very face projected a deep sense of calmness and peace.
"What do you want!" He angrily retorted, and half listening of what she has to offer.
"Fight, Haruka, fight! Work out your own salvation."
"What do you think I have been doing all these years! Don't you see, it was not good enough!" He was hysterically laughing in tears.
"This is all an illusion. Wake up!"
"Don't you know where we are? Welcome to hell!" His eyes widened in lunacy before finally sighing in defeat." Please, walk away. It is time to end this. Let it be..."
"If you give up, this lady I resemble would die, too. She is struggling to save your life by gambling her own as we speak." A ball like energy materialized on her hand showing excerpts of the Reiki ritual with emphasis on the exhausted face of Amethyst.
He bit his lip in frustration. What is he to do? "Why do you care so much?" He confusedly asked in desperation.
"I love you. We all do. Open your eyes." She walked toward the Michiru and carried the child. The child clung on to her with Michiru's might. The child did not want to see the sacrificial lamb in front of them. "She is weeping because she shares your pain. She wants you to let it go. Forgive yourself. It is the hardest thing to do but it must be done."
He was stung by her words. He knew its verity. He had always blamed himself for every tragedy that happened. Was it always his fault? Why does he deny them of their right to take responsibility for their actions? He did everything he could, mistake or no mistake. He does not need anyone else's approval anymore. Only his own.
"Love. Love yourself as you love everyone else. Unless you do so, compassion will be exhausted and fulfilling your duties is impossible. Remember, love is the universal conduit that freely and naturally every being in the universe. This is the secret of the so called esoteric Sangre training. There was never really anything extraordinary. Unconditional love is and always be the best armament against any and all compelling destructive forces. The Silver alliance itself is a living testament of this principle."
At that moment, he experienced a series of epiphany. He tried all extreme training available, yet what is it really that simple? He was flabbergasted. His humiliated ego wanted to resist and justify his actions, but he knew the truth of it all from the very core of his being.
"Look within yourself, Haruka. Search for the light, be filled with it and be redeemed."
Light glowed within his chest, and enveloped him. Angelic wings emerged from back, and all bondages were shattered. The light consumed the coliseum and everything within it.
"Where am I?"
An adult Haruka was curled in a fetal position complete with a silvery umbilical cord. He was suspended in a permeable fluid of light. He was immobile. He felt a deep sense of euphoria.
"Home." It belonged to the same being who took the figure of Amethyst.
"I recognized you. You…you're the one who helped a while ago."
"Yes. I am that I am. I am you." An image of a child-like 4 year old Haruka flashed within his mind. "I am been reaching out to you for the longest time, yet you wallow too much in self pity and grief to listen. All your life, I have been with you, watching you feeling both your joys and pain. I had to take the form of the most meaningful person to you for you to notice me."
"What happens now?"
"You are being reborn. You be reunited with your wife, soon. The toxins have all been purged; new energy can now flow on you, along with your wife's. She awaits your return." Sensing discomfort from him, the voice further asked "Why are you still troubled, Haruka?"
"Despite everything that happened, I feel for those that departed at my expense. Those that I had abandoned during desperate moments."
"My dear Haruka, a mortal being could only do so much. You did everything you could that time. It was not your intention, to save only the few and privileged then forsake the rest. Your intention was to save much people as you can, rather than let them die altogether. It was not your choice alone, but theirs, too. Those who voluntarily sacrifice themselves that those who survive can continue the Uranian legacy. You give yourself credit too much, let those around you have their share, too."
"And those, whose blood are stained on my hands?"
"You are a soldier whose utmost duty is to defend and protect. Kill or be killed. You did not attack, you only defended. You did not take pleasure in killing any of your foes. It was necessary to uphold and secure something greater than yourself, the future of a nation and countless generation." The voice further elaborated," The perfect act has no result. When every act has become dispassionate, impersonal and done because it is Right, there is no motive in the act, good or ill, and the ultimate aim of Purposelessness is attained. The aggressor and victim psychic resonance ceases to be, and the accessory called remorse falls out."
"Michiru..." Haruka faintly asked, almost embarrassed.
"As much as it is important we address each and every issue, you have to return physical realm. I leave you with this message: 'You are the author of an ongoing story you tell yourself. In your story, everything is about you, and it has to be that way because you are the center of your perception. The story is told from your point of view. You create an image for secondary characters in your story, and you assign them a role to play. The only thing you know about the secondary characters is the story you create about them...When you understand this, you no longer feel the need to impose our story on others or to defend what you believe.' Be well. Namaste!"
"Thank you and Namaste"
The sun brightly shone on his face. He was awake. Birds chirped on the trees. The freshness of the morning welcomed him back. He was glad he was alive!
The wind played with some aqua hair that trailed along his jaw and neck. He felt a slight weight on him. There was a rhythmic warm breath on his chest, in addition to that warmth a body could share. And the distinct fragrant, he was so certain whom it belonged to. A cozy sleeping Amethyst was on top of him! Her back was exposed when the blanket on them suddenly fell off a notch. He reactively held her lightly, pretending to pull and to fasten the cover. In truth, electrifying pleasure filled his senses the moment he touched her soft, smooth skin. He grinned at the thought of sharing a passionate night as suggested by their current position and situation.
Panic registered on him when he realized the implication of their intimacy: she knows he is female! He was well aware that he is half-naked, though his binding was kept intact. He would have bolted out in hysteria but his body was too weak at the moment. In addition, he could not afford to aggravate the situation but rousing her up.
He wanted to wait for the right time. Yet, it would have been better if it came directly from him rather than finding it out this way. He envisioned that she must despise him now. How could she not be, she is not a liberal Uranian? Could they still be at least friends after this? Perhaps, not. Then again, he wouldn't see her anymore after his commissioning. He knew he should part in good terms with his wife, by virtue of "Setsuzoku". Should he even burden him to what "Setsuzoku" is? Where or how does he even begin to amend? He was utterly lost.
Until the time of confrontation arises, he resigned to relish and to cherish this last moment with her. Cast all doubts, fear and guilt tomorrow; live the moment.
Just for today I will give thanks for my many blessings
Just for today I will not worry
Just for today I will not be angry
Just for today I will be honest with myself
Just for today I will love unconditioanlly and wholeheartedly
He stole a quick kiss, and painfully bid his farewell in his mind. "I love you, Michiru. Always have, and always will."
Author's note: That was the longest chapter I have written, whew! I hope I did not drive you insane here, hehe. The redundancy of reference to blood was deliberate; "Sangre" is indeed Spanish for "blood" as Auraluna7 pointed in the review. Nonetheless, in this fictitious universe, Sangre remains to be the unique honorary title of a Sailor Uranus. The excerpt about the story and author is from the Voice of Knowledge of Don Miguel Ruiz. The short poem was derived from the 5 principles of Reiki, but was modified to fit the context presented herein.
I wasn't supposed to upload this soon. Its mood was irreverent to the holiday spirit. Since there was a reversal of tone, I might as well yield. After all, it will take a while before I update this again. Probably, when it reaches 26th or so on the most recent H&M array of fiction, hehe.
So, how do you find this chapter? The dark and angst part was derived from a fiction I had in mind during my younger confused years (I make that sound as if that was so long ago!) but did not pursue. I expounded it thought a bit with the coliseum part and denouement. The rest were from dreams, reflections and inspirations..