It had been some time since true peace permeated Souji's overwrought senses. Though he greatly enjoyed the TARDIS and its myriad of delightful possibilities there was an inevitable strain taut beneath young skin. His people cherished routine and tradition like rippling music. To be ensconced in a tomb of industry beyond conception and simultaneously deprived of familiar comforts tried his steely fettle. The young samurai was not unhappy--- but stress had been gathering like lactic acid in his muscles.
The belated discovery of the indoor garden was a more than fortuitous: it was a godsend! Although the air was not composed of precisely the right elements to impersonate the actual outdoors it was more than suitable. Plant-rich oxygen was universal, after all, and there were streamlets and pools dotting the large expanse of green. Saizo seemed to relish the reprieve. The fat piglet had run himself to exhaustion chasing an enormous butterfly and was now dozing like a beached jellyfish. For his part, Souji had wandered soundlessly amongst the stalks of flora new and recognizable before retiring to the bank of wide stream.
A pregnant moon glittered in the smooth folds of flowing water as if it were her kimono shifting as she danced. Long fingers glowed pale as the orb above beneath the crystalline surface, allowing the stream to sift through them. How he had missed water. Not the filtered sprays which passed through plumbing but the living undulation slithering along a riverbed. In Japan it was believed that spirits resided in all things--- and water sources were powerful. A soft, blissful sigh puffed between his lips at the cool fluid kiss.
Often the young prodigy had found himself seeking solace in the muted burr of nature at night. It was both a vehicle for thought and a welcome escape from it. Barefoot and with his long hair tumbling free, Souji washed his hands in the blessed waters as if he were cleansing himself of troubles. This garden made him feel renewed. So it seemed oddly fitting to see a vision luminous and beautiful as the stars walking across the transplanted earth. He sat slowly back on his heels to watch the spectre in fascination. Surely she was some denizen of this beautiful, impossible room? The preternatural lady could not be a passenger. Would she vanish if he spoke to her? What did one say to such a being?