A Matter of the Heart: A Short Story Inspired by Kunzite

He saw, without sight, what had happened to her heart. A gash she could no longer notice or feel, which had symptomatically dulled her eyes, making her still young mind and body feeble. Her heart, he saw, was a jagged, open wound in need of disinfecting and mending. And there was, as he saw, a dagger stuck within it, within the heart's crevices, splintering so terribly that its' edges began to make cavernous holes within its depths. He knew, if she were to grow anymore at all, he would need to operate at a very tactical, systematic level to create the cuts needed to pull out the dagger as gently as possible. He realized there was no way to keep her from finally feeling the excruciating pain caused by all the damage, but he decided that to draw it out, over time, so it wouldn't happen all at once (which would surely kill her), would be the best method. It would have to happen over a very long period of time. Not hours, not days, but years. And not without some losses. Of blood, of hope, of trust. Of memory, of talent, of skill. But she would live. His feeling for her was such that her living was enough to take these risks. Slowly he penetrated, pushed, spread, pulled, and finally tugged at the dagger, her barely functioning body spasming in agony, making her delirious and wild with the non-recognition of existence and the complete disbelief of reality. But the dagger had to give, and over long days, nights, weeks, months, and years, it slipped out, marking every which way as it left, leaving a wound freed and ready to close in on itself. Veins reconnected, muscles slowly stretched together, blood filled the empty and raw space, creating a new pulse of breath-giving strength for the body which was so doomed to meaningless death. His incantation: "Cover this with love." He spoke it quietly over the healing space, disinfecting itself, his breath and tone as much a medicine as the release of the sharp burden. With that, he fell asleep beside her, dreaming into the night, perceiving what the next era, eon, or epoch might bring.