Original Japanese text from Kuwabara Mizuna's official site. Sensei wrote four "petit novels" for her site's third anniversary in 2007 based on Divine Red, ILEGENES, Schwarz Heart and Mirage of Blaze. I decided to translate the ones for DR and MoB.

Japanese to English translation by me.

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A stormy night.
At that moment, Hibiki was by the window, listening to the thunder.
The streets of Tokyo, bathed in the huge flashes, were momentarily reversed in color like a negative; a whiteness emerged from the flash.
Afraid of the thunder, Hibiki's pet cat Hotaru refused to leave his lap.
It was strange that hearing this natural thunder reminded him of a man-made thunder. A feverish thunderstorm had shaken the theater that day. A ferocious thunderbolt created by a human's hands. With that single blow, 'life' was created from the sea of the storm.
From that day onwards, he desired the sound of thunder.
Someone once said that the roaring thunder of Haibara Yuugetsu's theater was the voice of God.
Driven by the urge to savor the loud reverberation that shook the earth, he felt sorry for the frightened cat as he set her down. Somehow, Hibiki knew that at this moment, that man was having the same feeling.
Coming out to the veranda to bathe in the thunder.
Bathe his entire body in that vast energy.
Right now, that man must surely be doing the same.

* * *

A stormy night.
At that moment, Kagetora was at the seashore, listening to the thunder.
Across the raging waves, a boat was being tossed about. It was like a wooden leaf. There was no telling if it would be washed ashore or capsized; he witnessed the fate of the boat intently from the shoreline.
We, the dead who live, are not affected by the human world.
If so, are we merely watching? Watching until that boat hits the rocks and shatters to pieces. Until that boat is engulfed by the waves and sunk. Nothing seems tangible, only the generous amount of time to watch exists.
But the storm eventually passes.
We only know that it will pass. Here at Echigo, although the winter brings severe snow, we endure with the knowledge that the winter will pass. In understanding this, we know that as a result of enduring to the very end, a day will come when the sun will definitely shine.
In that case, will there also come a day when the regret, anger and hatred in this chest will pass?
In the driving rain, he heard the sound of footsteps on the sand.
With just that sound, he automatically knew who was approaching him from behind. There were very few people who would walk in such a place without wearing a kasa or a mino.
Contrary to expectations, the so-called storm, which itself was ignorant of its time of passing, was very much like existence itself.
Or are we no more different than that boat?
Indeed. We are in the center of a storm. The one known as 'existence.'

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