Work Text:
Deep within the pages of a book, lies a page yet unread, unturned, for it is between two pages that are written.
It remains blank, with nothing but a name to it. In the mind's eye of one, their true visage, in the mind's eye of many others, a false visage, one of another, one with the gift of an image, but no name.
Just as the deaf cannot hear, and the blind cannot see. One with an image but no name can be, one with a name but no image cannot be.
Still we think, we ponder the use of this named one. Postulate what it could've been, what it could've done. But it is nothing more than our imagination. For it is not anything.
Just a name, a relic left of a long since abandoned premise. Not dead, but never alive. Just a thought, a thought with falsehoods attached.
Hexadecimal in a sequence of hundreds, binary in a sequence of thousands, numbers in a sequence of millions, waves in a sequence of billions, atoms in a sequence of trillions.
So I call out to you, Rin Satsuki, and wonder if you have ever wondered before. Maybe one day, you will find a voice to call back. To reach out with a hand of nothingness.
I'll be waiting until then.