She steps into a world that smells of sulfur. Kanto burns. Revolution reigns. Out with the old world, in with Rocket's new world order. Her past is her future, the future the past. An old philosopher in a distant land once wrote about time and being. A student said that time is a flat circle. It proves a poor metaphor.[break][break]
Time is an Ouroboros. Time is a serpent which consumes itself. Time is a monster that places you precisely where you once were, no matter what lies are told about change and rebirth.[break][break]
Her body is draped in a garish uniform. Deep black, emblazoned with a crimson R. Camellia plays her part. Another soul dead at her feet. Another life lost in this pointless war. A dead serpent coils around the young beauty.[break][break]
"You disappoint me, Tsubaki." Says the man who planted the seed in the soil. "You were meant for more than this." Cool words. They do not comfort. They do not caress. They assess. Rotten seed begets rotten crops. "But I suppose this is all you will ever be. What is done cannot be undone." He stands obscured by the brimstone, hidden by the smoke. Only his eyes, the same ruby red as hers, ring clear through the black.