Rated: T

Writing done by KristinGyaru.

The small child sat alone, a lost creature. A one without a mind. A one without a single memory.

As she sat there, on the bank by the river, she regretted herself. Though she didn't know who or what she was, she was in a lamentable state: a state of hardly being.

"Why me?" She cried, the small child soldier Vaudevue, an innocent girl without a recollection. "Who am I?" She pondered, sat upon a small rock by the river.

The girl soldier Vaudevue stood, stripping herself naked. The bare girl soldier stepped, walked, ran, fell. Mind a blank slate, she had yet to learn.

As she reached the edge of a bank overlooking the adorable lake, she purred. Jumping, the icy water embraced her. Her mind blank, her body the byproduct of the MK48 war, without a reason to be, an excuse to breathe.

The MK48 soldier arrived, seeing the girl Vaudevue's regiment uniform. "Come back," he whispered. "Come on, come back," he said.

Hours passed and the adorable lake held no sign. The child soldier had not returned. The soldier of the war was awaiting her. Whistling through the reeds, he heard the vaguest tune.

The tune he had sang before the war, a tune that Vaudevue, too, had sang before the war. They were not alike, they were not different, for they were opposite reflections.

"Come on, come back," he pleaded.

Hours passed, and the child soldier Vaudevue was yet to return.

Hours passed, and hope was dying.

Hours passed, and she did not come back that night. Nor any other. For the icy embrace of the cold winter river had welcomed her.

"Come on, come back."