[complete] I lost the use of my heart...
Who: H. Sakura [haruno]
What: Sakura reviews the files generated from photographs and other data collected by the probe she sent out to her homeworld coordinates three months ago.
When: Evening/Late Evening 12/24
Where: Some cafe on the Thor.
Warnings: Not safe for public consumption.
Nerves. She flicked her eyes up, looking at the ceiling. The lights hanging down came from standard supports, though the covers themselves appeared to be made out of glass. You know it's just nerves.
Much like she knew that putting off opening the folder sitting across from her wasn't solving anything. Carols came on over the speakers, some familiar, others numbering among the countless ones she didn't recognize.
I wonder how many people realize the kind of sound they walk around in. Constant music, constant introduction to the mechanical and the generated still didn't feel natural.
But it was necessary.
This was necessary. This is necessary. Stop stalling, Sakura.
Her tea settled on the table, one hand forming a loose ring around it while the other reached out to the folder. She brought her index finger down, letting the tip sit there, barely touching.
Now.
Her hand slammed down, dragging the file toward her even as her lips twitched down into a frown. Sakura's expression cleared after a moment, if the furrowing of her brow only intensified as she turned the folder.
REPORT PRINT-OUT
CASE FILE #9732402-X
12/24/XX
Initial image processing included along with raw data print-outs. Generated at 10%, 20%, 50%, and 89% cloud cover and atmospheric interference. Based on provided data and research databank information, initial files presented from +35.746512 -138.867188, at estimated planetary mass of [...]
They'd used the specifications she's asked for, after doing the research that was possible from on-board the ship. She still felt awkward, knowing she was relying on measurements and systems not native to her way of thinking, but it was a way to get answers.
Three months ago, it had seem like one of the only ways to get something clear cut. Less than three hours ago, the data had finally been ready for someone not tech-savvy to review.
Three minutes ago, she'd had more confidence in her ability to face whatever lay between these pages than she did all of three seconds ago.
Stop being ridiculous. Taking her hand off the first page, Sakura picked uphertea, holding it up to her mouth and reading the initial report. It was dry, a dissertation of sorts on method that she partly understood from terminology, partly understood from inference. The end result was in the pages following, and those were the ones causing her stomach to twist into nervous knots.
Enough was enough. She set her tea down again, reaching forward to flip the page (pages, actually, she learned) of the report itself over. Now it was one of the first picture files, and she had to pause.
Sakura leaned over, fishing a hardcover book out of her carrying satchel. The cover was plain, the only words found on it announcing the subject right along with intent. "Our Night Skies," not so much unique to Konoha as unique to the region they lived in. Part of a continent, part of a hemisphere (all these new words, these new specificities she'd learned), part of a world she was hoping against reason still existed.
Flipping the book open to the index, her gaze fell back to the first photograph. Nothing seemed familiar. She felt her stomach tighten as she leaned forward, looking for any sort of familiarity in what was presented.
This was ridiculous.
Sakura plucked all the photographs out of the file, bringing them into her lap and shuffling through for ones marked with a series of ".1"'s inthe corner. Pulling those free, she flipped between three or so, concluding they were indeed part of a set, and not the same image put through filters with differnt outputs.
Laying them out on the table was a matter of matching the lower printout numbers to their proper order in the sequence. It was frankly too large to do side by side. Out of necessity, she broke them down into sections, layering them one above each other, covering up the rest of the file on the table.
Was any of this familiar? Sakura leaned forward, scanning the images with her eyes. Please, she thought, Please don't let it...
She blinked, peering closely at two photos in particular. She frowned, trying to place the familiarity before she straightened up, taking those two out of the sequence.
Then she turned them sideways, and she felt herself sinking back into the cafe's uncomfortable, trendy wooden chair.
I recognize this constellation. Her stomach sank, resting somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. That's the Kimono Sleeve Arm.
Or was it? Sakura set the photographs down, ignoring the trembling in her hand as she thumbed through the book's index, looking for the related passage. She flipped to the provided page, examining the drawing there. Could it be different?
She looked back at the photos she'd been holding, then down at the book again. Her focus went to the stars shown in both images, not considered part of the constellation, nor particularlybright.
One there... and one there. The one to the left... yeah, it's there too. This is impossible. I'm seeing things. Okay, the little triangle of stars to the right... ah-ha! I don't see tho--
Only she did. The illustration had made them seem more prominent than they were in the generated photograph, but tehy were still there.
This could be a coincidence. Those happen all the time! Psychosematic, seeing what I expect to see. A self-fulfilling prophecy, something explicably, like being drunk off apple cider when it's spiced and not fermented. She flipped pages in the book, tracing constellation to the sideofthe Kimono Sleeve Arm. The frutration of rearranging the photographs to follow the order she wanted gave way to the incredible feeling of powerlessness as she found constellation after constellation.
Part of her wanted to be impressed at the astronomer back home who had taken such care to write down these maps of the stars. Part of her wanted to cry. All of her wanted to destroy something, lash out and release the tension and horror lacing through her as the information penetrated into her brain.
Those could be from home. That could be home. That is home, and home isn't there anymore. No one is. There's nothing there. Nothing but the damn stars.
She sat back again, legs crossing tightly at the ankles. Her tea sat forgotten in a banished corner, cooling into undrinkableness while Sakura floundered through her own mental dialog.
But it can't it can't it can't it can't it can't all be gone! Not the village, not everyone, not a world, not all of that! Shishou and Shinzune-san and Iruka-senei and Yamato-taichou and Sai-kun and Ino-chan and Tenten-chan and Chouji-san and Shikamaru-san and Hinata-chan and Shino-san and Kiba-kun and --
The names rolled through her mind; all her comrades, the people she'd lived next to, the ones who she'd seen in the hospital, the children whose scraped knees she'd healed, the merchants who she'd purchased groceries from, the faces of traders passing through, and even her parents.
And so this is Christmas, I hope you have fun! The near and the dear one, the old and the young...
Another song for the holiday happening in the morning broke into her train of thought, breaking her out of the repetitive cycle of denial. Temporarily, at least.
It's enough to set her in motion, gathering the photographs up in a haphazard pile, shifting to not lose the mess of photographs likewise still on her lap.
She pulled her lap file up, resting them against the edge of the table as she thumbed through them all, looking for part of the last request she'd had for the programmer of the probe. "Photographs of the area, arriving, and leaving. If we're on correct orbital path, that should tell us what we need, right? And if we're not, the probe can catch sight of the planet's location?"
The answer had been a sort of half-mumbled affirmation, paying off now in a set of images without percentage markings. Sakura let the others fall against her, scanning the more general picture of space for some hint as to what it was she needed.
The problem she learned, was that there was nothing there of use. She located another planet in her system, and then the rest (had they had that many?) one after another.
But not her world. Nowhere in orbit of her sun, nowhere in the solar system was anything of the size her planet would have been. Was. Is. No... was.
Photograph after photograph, and foreverything that was in them, there was also nothing.
And it hurt in a numbing fashion that Sakura didn't know how to handle. This wasn't realizing you were worthless and a burden to everyone around you. This wasn't begging for someone to stay as they walked out on everything you thought should be held sacred. This wasn't done as an act of war, calling for allegiances to be formed in order to tackle the greater problems facing them all.
This was harder to fathom. This was everything -- not a place, even, buteverything in people -- and it's like it'd never existed. Nothing to go back to. No home to return to that you didn't make out of the people around you.
A very merry Christmas, and a happy New Year! Let's hope it's a good one, without any fear.
Her eyes watered, and she shook her head. Sakura didn't want to be the one crying again, but she knew she was. The warm water overflowing the corners of her eyes was testimony enough. She rubbed the back ofher hand over her face, hoping to catch the tear drops before they fell off down onto several of the photographs.
The music finally brought her head, and her attention, up.
War is over, if you want it. War is over, now...
It reminded her, bizarrely, of something Heero had said earlier in the evening. Not that he'd "said" much; his opinion had been a block of text preoccupied with metaphors about herd animals, but the idea of war, and how it ended...
The war we may have fought through, that we may have won, or we may have lost already...
Sakura sat up, forcing herself into a semblance of togetherness.
I can't tell them. Not yet. But I will.
She collected the photographs together neatly this time, plaing them back in the floder.
After Christmas, I'll talk with everyone. It won't change our plans. It won't.
She rubbed her hand across her eyes, pushing her chair back to stand. Her statement to herself was already a lie. It would change things. It already was.
But she'd handle that later. For now... her lips twitched up a little, trying to make a pretense at a smile as she picked up the file and started heading for her room. For now... let's get through this holiday.
Plenty of time afterward to think on what it is they'd do.
What: Sakura reviews the files generated from photographs and other data collected by the probe she sent out to her homeworld coordinates three months ago.
When: Evening/Late Evening 12/24
Where: Some cafe on the Thor.
Warnings: Not safe for public consumption.
Nerves. She flicked her eyes up, looking at the ceiling. The lights hanging down came from standard supports, though the covers themselves appeared to be made out of glass. You know it's just nerves.
Much like she knew that putting off opening the folder sitting across from her wasn't solving anything. Carols came on over the speakers, some familiar, others numbering among the countless ones she didn't recognize.
I wonder how many people realize the kind of sound they walk around in. Constant music, constant introduction to the mechanical and the generated still didn't feel natural.
But it was necessary.
This was necessary. This is necessary. Stop stalling, Sakura.
Her tea settled on the table, one hand forming a loose ring around it while the other reached out to the folder. She brought her index finger down, letting the tip sit there, barely touching.
Now.
Her hand slammed down, dragging the file toward her even as her lips twitched down into a frown. Sakura's expression cleared after a moment, if the furrowing of her brow only intensified as she turned the folder.
REPORT PRINT-OUT
CASE FILE #9732402-X
12/24/XX
Initial image processing included along with raw data print-outs. Generated at 10%, 20%, 50%, and 89% cloud cover and atmospheric interference. Based on provided data and research databank information, initial files presented from +35.746512 -138.867188, at estimated planetary mass of [...]
They'd used the specifications she's asked for, after doing the research that was possible from on-board the ship. She still felt awkward, knowing she was relying on measurements and systems not native to her way of thinking, but it was a way to get answers.
Three months ago, it had seem like one of the only ways to get something clear cut. Less than three hours ago, the data had finally been ready for someone not tech-savvy to review.
Three minutes ago, she'd had more confidence in her ability to face whatever lay between these pages than she did all of three seconds ago.
Stop being ridiculous. Taking her hand off the first page, Sakura picked uphertea, holding it up to her mouth and reading the initial report. It was dry, a dissertation of sorts on method that she partly understood from terminology, partly understood from inference. The end result was in the pages following, and those were the ones causing her stomach to twist into nervous knots.
Enough was enough. She set her tea down again, reaching forward to flip the page (pages, actually, she learned) of the report itself over. Now it was one of the first picture files, and she had to pause.
Sakura leaned over, fishing a hardcover book out of her carrying satchel. The cover was plain, the only words found on it announcing the subject right along with intent. "Our Night Skies," not so much unique to Konoha as unique to the region they lived in. Part of a continent, part of a hemisphere (all these new words, these new specificities she'd learned), part of a world she was hoping against reason still existed.
Flipping the book open to the index, her gaze fell back to the first photograph. Nothing seemed familiar. She felt her stomach tighten as she leaned forward, looking for any sort of familiarity in what was presented.
This was ridiculous.
Sakura plucked all the photographs out of the file, bringing them into her lap and shuffling through for ones marked with a series of ".1"'s inthe corner. Pulling those free, she flipped between three or so, concluding they were indeed part of a set, and not the same image put through filters with differnt outputs.
Laying them out on the table was a matter of matching the lower printout numbers to their proper order in the sequence. It was frankly too large to do side by side. Out of necessity, she broke them down into sections, layering them one above each other, covering up the rest of the file on the table.
Was any of this familiar? Sakura leaned forward, scanning the images with her eyes. Please, she thought, Please don't let it...
She blinked, peering closely at two photos in particular. She frowned, trying to place the familiarity before she straightened up, taking those two out of the sequence.
Then she turned them sideways, and she felt herself sinking back into the cafe's uncomfortable, trendy wooden chair.
I recognize this constellation. Her stomach sank, resting somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. That's the Kimono Sleeve Arm.
Or was it? Sakura set the photographs down, ignoring the trembling in her hand as she thumbed through the book's index, looking for the related passage. She flipped to the provided page, examining the drawing there. Could it be different?
She looked back at the photos she'd been holding, then down at the book again. Her focus went to the stars shown in both images, not considered part of the constellation, nor particularlybright.
One there... and one there. The one to the left... yeah, it's there too. This is impossible. I'm seeing things. Okay, the little triangle of stars to the right... ah-ha! I don't see tho--
Only she did. The illustration had made them seem more prominent than they were in the generated photograph, but tehy were still there.
This could be a coincidence. Those happen all the time! Psychosematic, seeing what I expect to see. A self-fulfilling prophecy, something explicably, like being drunk off apple cider when it's spiced and not fermented. She flipped pages in the book, tracing constellation to the sideofthe Kimono Sleeve Arm. The frutration of rearranging the photographs to follow the order she wanted gave way to the incredible feeling of powerlessness as she found constellation after constellation.
Part of her wanted to be impressed at the astronomer back home who had taken such care to write down these maps of the stars. Part of her wanted to cry. All of her wanted to destroy something, lash out and release the tension and horror lacing through her as the information penetrated into her brain.
Those could be from home. That could be home. That is home, and home isn't there anymore. No one is. There's nothing there. Nothing but the damn stars.
She sat back again, legs crossing tightly at the ankles. Her tea sat forgotten in a banished corner, cooling into undrinkableness while Sakura floundered through her own mental dialog.
But it can't it can't it can't it can't it can't all be gone! Not the village, not everyone, not a world, not all of that! Shishou and Shinzune-san and Iruka-senei and Yamato-taichou and Sai-kun and Ino-chan and Tenten-chan and Chouji-san and Shikamaru-san and Hinata-chan and Shino-san and Kiba-kun and --
The names rolled through her mind; all her comrades, the people she'd lived next to, the ones who she'd seen in the hospital, the children whose scraped knees she'd healed, the merchants who she'd purchased groceries from, the faces of traders passing through, and even her parents.
And so this is Christmas, I hope you have fun! The near and the dear one, the old and the young...
Another song for the holiday happening in the morning broke into her train of thought, breaking her out of the repetitive cycle of denial. Temporarily, at least.
It's enough to set her in motion, gathering the photographs up in a haphazard pile, shifting to not lose the mess of photographs likewise still on her lap.
She pulled her lap file up, resting them against the edge of the table as she thumbed through them all, looking for part of the last request she'd had for the programmer of the probe. "Photographs of the area, arriving, and leaving. If we're on correct orbital path, that should tell us what we need, right? And if we're not, the probe can catch sight of the planet's location?"
The answer had been a sort of half-mumbled affirmation, paying off now in a set of images without percentage markings. Sakura let the others fall against her, scanning the more general picture of space for some hint as to what it was she needed.
The problem she learned, was that there was nothing there of use. She located another planet in her system, and then the rest (had they had that many?) one after another.
But not her world. Nowhere in orbit of her sun, nowhere in the solar system was anything of the size her planet would have been. Was. Is. No... was.
Photograph after photograph, and foreverything that was in them, there was also nothing.
And it hurt in a numbing fashion that Sakura didn't know how to handle. This wasn't realizing you were worthless and a burden to everyone around you. This wasn't begging for someone to stay as they walked out on everything you thought should be held sacred. This wasn't done as an act of war, calling for allegiances to be formed in order to tackle the greater problems facing them all.
This was harder to fathom. This was everything -- not a place, even, buteverything in people -- and it's like it'd never existed. Nothing to go back to. No home to return to that you didn't make out of the people around you.
A very merry Christmas, and a happy New Year! Let's hope it's a good one, without any fear.
Her eyes watered, and she shook her head. Sakura didn't want to be the one crying again, but she knew she was. The warm water overflowing the corners of her eyes was testimony enough. She rubbed the back ofher hand over her face, hoping to catch the tear drops before they fell off down onto several of the photographs.
The music finally brought her head, and her attention, up.
War is over, if you want it. War is over, now...
It reminded her, bizarrely, of something Heero had said earlier in the evening. Not that he'd "said" much; his opinion had been a block of text preoccupied with metaphors about herd animals, but the idea of war, and how it ended...
The war we may have fought through, that we may have won, or we may have lost already...
Sakura sat up, forcing herself into a semblance of togetherness.
I can't tell them. Not yet. But I will.
She collected the photographs together neatly this time, plaing them back in the floder.
After Christmas, I'll talk with everyone. It won't change our plans. It won't.
She rubbed her hand across her eyes, pushing her chair back to stand. Her statement to herself was already a lie. It would change things. It already was.
But she'd handle that later. For now... her lips twitched up a little, trying to make a pretense at a smile as she picked up the file and started heading for her room. For now... let's get through this holiday.
Plenty of time afterward to think on what it is they'd do.