Chapter 2 . . .

Well, now, that took some time. Doesn��t
matter. It��s over now. It��ll be another year until
I have to face *that* again.

You know the disclaimers? Well, I hope so.
I��m adding one thing, though. I��m taking
elements from Sadamoto��s manga. A much
nicer work, in my opinion.

Enough with the talk. On with the shoooow . . .

SeventhOne

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Nanashimanga presents
A Completely Ignored fanfic

Sailormoon [Impact]
by SeventhOne
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

***
Tokyo
(Ruins of an unknown hospital)
September 15, 2000

Dawn.

The woman leaned against a broken wall,
holding a newborn. It was hers. No doctor had
helped her. No midwife. They were probably
all dead by now.

It was hers.

What should have been happiness, however,
was not.

The father was dead. The senshi had done
everything they could to save him.

But . . .

They were dead, now. They died several
minutes after the building had fallen. She had
seen them die.

The remains of one was a few inches away
from her now. It, or she, or whatever it had
been, had died saving her baby from a falling
piece of wreckage.

The piece of wreckage in question was about
the size of an industrial trailer.

She had always thought the senshi weren��t
human. Now she knew. When they died, they
turned into puddles of water. This one certainly
had, and anything that *could* do that
*couldn��t* have possibly been human.

There was a small gadget that looked like a
pair of sunglasses in the puddle.

A sort of a relic. It was holy. It had given her
everything she had now.

She reached out toward it.

Touch.

***
Tokyo-2
(Umezawa Memorial Psychiatric Ward)
March 3, 2003

There was a little song, from an anime drawn
in the eighties. A catchy little tune, but you can
ignore it for now. It does get a little annoying
after a while.

~//I��ll be holding, never let you go//~

There was laughter, and there were tears.

The laughter came because a girl remembered
happy times.

The tears?

The tears were there because a woman
remembered the loss of that happiness.

~//sail away for future//~

And there was the rain.

A sea of rain. It sounded as if the parking lot
outside was one huge frying pan, sizzling
furiously away on a day so cloudy, it looked to
be night.

As they say, ��The darkest hour is that before
dawn.�� It was one in the afternoon. Not quite
dawn yet.

~//Come together! Just think of tommorrow!//~

There were eyes. Two pairs.

One pair was shut, filled with the tears of
laughter. The owner was a teenaged girl who
remembered too much and could forget
nothing.

The other pair was open, dry from staring too
long at something the owner couldn��t quite
place. It was the eyes of a young boy, a boy
who remembered nothing and had forgotten
too much. They were red.

Everybody has tears. Whether they come out
or not is a different matter.

The song ended with the words, ��Liftoff.�� After a moment, there was a
little beeping
sound.

The closed eyes opened.

"Do what you want, the way you want to," said
a man.

The old, dusty VCR cranked to a stop. The
automatic rewind kicked in, and there was the
whirring sound of the tape spinning
backwards.

The eyes met.

For a long time.

The red pair closed, and there was the sound of
a body slumping to the ground.

The girl stared, shivering a little at what she��d
just seen.

***
Tokyo-3
(Tokyo-3 Military Hospital, NERV Sector)
August 11, 2015

I don��t want to be important when I grow up.
Dreams, hopes . . . I have no use for such
things. Never thought about them. Don��t need
to.

If anybody ever thought it fit to ask me why
this is, my answer would be simple. Why not?
If I die in some accident, it probably won��t
matter very much. Nobody would care. If you
told someone about me and my accident,
they��d shrug, and then say something to the
effect of, ��These kids nowadays. What are we
gonna do about them?�� I��m not a real person to
these people.

And so, I��m fourteen. I work just hard enough
to get by. Why work any harder? The end
result would be the same.

The teacher gave us an assignment a few
months ago. The instructions were to write
about our ��deepest and most sincere beliefs
about life.�� I failed the assignment.

And now . . .

Now I��m in a bed I��ve never slept in before,
staring at a ceiling I��ve never seen. There��s a
strong smell of disinfectant in the air, and I��m
covered with bandages. Either I��m in a hospital
or . . .

Or they have some pretty strange customs in
this city.

I can��t move without feeling the rest of my
body, and I can��t feel the rest of my body
without hurting. It��s all numb . . . until I try
lifting my index finger. What happens then is
that I get a taste of what all those poor witches
had to go through in medieval Europe. I��ve
come to respect witches in the past half-hour.

It��s a blessing that I can move my eyes without
hurting. I can at least see where father��s
dumped me this time. I suppose flowers were
too much to expect.

At least it��s a hospital. I mean, I haven��t been
left to die. It means that I��m important enough
to keep alive. Not to mention that it��s a *clean*
hospital. Then again, father probably wouldn��t
have it any other way. Dirt is too good for me.

What does all of this prove?

Not much. Just that my assumptions about life,
the universe, and everything are true. No, not
much.

I can��t remember how I got here. Last thing I
remember is looking at the big purple robot. Or
whatever it was. Humanoid all-purpose
something something. I remember getting on. I
remember sitting inside. And then?

Oh yeah, the dream. Can��t forget the dream.
There was this really cute girl. Blue hair, red
eyes. She was Japanese though. She was
looking at me. After a while, she walked
towards me. Then through me. That��s why I
woke up. It��s not very nice to walk through
people when they��re injured.

I guess this is dumb. Speaking to myself inside
my head an all that. I��ll just be going to sleep
now. Maybe when I wake up, I��ll actually be
able to move a little more than my eyes.

Bye.

***
(To be continued . . . ?)

This story is plotted out. I don't know if I can
continue it, though. Maybe on my free time.
Any C&C or offers to pick it up would be
appreciated.