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The sun flashed over the waves of the ocean as they broke against the shore, each little refraction of light in the water like a reminder of the kira-kira from up above. A pale imitation, really, of the full breadth of beauty that came from losing oneself in the aftershocks of connection.
But it was all Nyaan really had left of that experience.
At least, the only thing that didn’t bring back memories of feeling all those points of light snuffed out with the pull of one simple trigger.
The former pilot sat in the sand with her legs tucked up to her chest as she stared at the waves, thinking now of warmer things. The sun, the sand, the light. Everything that existed here and not in the cold cockpit drifting through space. It wasn’t so bad, even without the kira-kira. There was good here too. The beach, air conditioning, pizza. Even Machu.
Machu.
Nyaan glanced away down the beach, at where the other girl was building a sandcastle with Conch and Haro. The sun glinted off her eyes too, red and teal waves radiating outwards from the depths as Nyaan couldn’t help but stare. Even now Machu was beautiful. Like she had been the first day they’d met, when her fiery passion had driven Nyaan to silence. Like she had been when they were Mavs, fighting together against the very world. Like she had been every night since, when Nyaan had woken up screaming at the other girl had cradled her in her lap like it was nothing.
It was everything.
And still here Nyaan was, just watching. Waiting. Unsure. Living, yes, with the sun and the sand and the stars reflecting in every shimmering motion.
But she was missing something.
She always would be, so long as she sat still.
And yet somehow, in the reflection of a gloved hand reaching for her hand and for her throat… she still couldn’t move.
So instead she just turned away, and took in the waves.
For as long as she could.