On the far side of the world, in a place not yet touched by the majority of man, lies a soul in great slumber, eagerly awaiting nothing, clearly content with the martyrship granted to him as part of his purification rite—as part of his destiny—as part of his cycle, to save the world, this soul had to become the great seal between the god of peril and the god of request, and the power of Thanatos alone is not enough to appease nor weaken the force that lie o so very high.
This soul was once a man. His name was Minato Arisato. To say his name in passing, it would achieve a glance ever-presently negligent when compared to saying the name of any other regular bloke; but in the passing of those who mattered to him—and by extension, was special to them—it would evoke a reaction much the same of a nostalgic encounter with an old flame, a heart enflamed, a'flamed by bonds. It would be untrue to say that this man was a mere man, as he had the beginnings of a demigod resting deep within him as he rests deep within the subconscious of Heaven, hell or wherever else men go when their souls weep and their minds contract, relaxing to where they dream—a dream they cannot dream actively—beyond their control. On the other side of the world, a girl in blue attire formally gestures her hand toward the beast known as Erebus, the one who beckons The Fall encountered in both the Bible and Finnegans Wake. The Fall is wished for by mankind, and anytime a man wishes for death, or the resultance of his species, it only grows more profound, less prudent and more vicious; in light of this ever-growing threat, this blue-themed maiden feels no fear, her aim is true: to vanquish the beast. For what cause, you think? I, alas, do not know myself. I do know that this woman knew Minato and she knew her better than he knew himself. If she knew nothing else, she knew him; and the bond they forged, in steel and blood, both battered and marred, both sweet and tender—loving,care—it has brought up a trust and loyalty only brought about in fiction.
––My, my! We are very big this day, yes? She says in amusement, letting out a harrowing laugh.
The beast, having no words, only erupts in an earth-crushing roar, one that binds the sun to the sea and the winter to the rain.
––Now, now, do you wish for death? I said the last time we met I would allow you it. I ask once more, do you want to see death? Says she in a condescending tone.
The beast is silent, preparing for an attack.
––I see, then enjoy your demise, she says with a great smile.
The girl then summons a book, opens it and draws a symmetrical shape in the system both organisms rely in. She summons a creature, Thanatos, and relinquishes the Key-bearer from Life.
––Still no good. How sad. In short time, it will return; in short time, as will I. How long this game continues, perpetually suspended both me and my mission in animation, is anyone's guess.
She turns to face the Moon. In the wee small hours of the morning, the blue moon and the stardust seemed to scatter gently across each bit of space-time. Though long ago, the light they generate is only reaching this girl now. To you and I, she looks human. She is an infinite being, one that transcends humanity. She was probably around for the birth of each star there, perhaps even for the battle of matter in the early hot-bed of the infant Universe. I cannot know, nor do I want to. I do know that although her goal is unknown to me, a look in her eyes tells me that her aim is true; and her aim is to help that boy somehow, the one whose soul goldly slumbers, whose heart will constantly remain the basin for bonds and the purification of water, the coolest of which can ever be found. This water will drain the thirst and bake the man whose will aches for athirst of cool, clean water.
––If I didn't care, I would not fight this hard for you, Minato, says she in a voice of pure entanglement, belittling her own views for the sake of his own safety.
One can feel the true love she feels. She does not want to see the world set on fire, and so she will not. If I were her, I would find a way to kill the link between the key and the lock. To say there is only one way to do this is missing the point of the problem: mankind cannot change on its own. Peace is unobtainable and love is a weak force that falls under the pretense of being powerful. I think love is a kind of unity not found in any other relationship; true, unembellished love is strong enough to kill a man with kindness. But. It is too weak to build a nation. If it cannot overcome itself, how can love build a nation, a country, a people? The human game was up a long time ago, and it seems that we circle the drain in conquest, denying the fact that our end is inevitable. That kind of naivete is the perfect mind-set for a finite species. We know we are finite. We know the world is finite; however, we don't care. We fight for existence because we would like to see the world unfold for as long as it is. When its time comes, we'd like to be there waving goodbye. The hubris and arrogance exhuming from this ambition is beautiful and it should be nurtured and developed, not simply thrown away. If only I could care as much as some do; if only I could become the ultimate hope. Hope means hope. So simple it defines itself.
The girl in blue attire lies down on a surface. Its softness is clean. It is grass drenched in the dew of human stress. She takes a deep breath, sighs and says, quietly,
––If I did not have you to keep in my mind, I believe I would have been in that room forever. Thank you for giving me purpose. A man who gives gifts of such value is entitled to be selfish once and a while. Please, be selfish to me. I will hear your true self, for I have seen it all already. My aim is true.