sailing miles away // tomokazu

03. lonely in the sea of maple leaves

he found it hard to warm up to those people no matter how many storms attacked the ship and how many times he stood shoulder to shoulder with beidou as their combined powers pushed the crux ahead to safety. he had so many untold stories to tell and so little strength to voice them out. this way he knew beidou was right when she first gifted him the journal and told him to write. throughout the long, bloodshed months he had been regularly filling the blank pages. sometimes he would numbly recall the gains and losses of the battle, other times he'd dive into his memories and write long paragraphs about his past.

he inscribed the stories of his lonely journeys through the sunlit plains, memorising the sacred smell of sakura and sounds of animals rustling through the grass. he talked about the slow but constant connection he developed with the nature, and how he became one with the maple leaves falling around him. bit by bit, he became one of them. a lonely maple leaf thrusted back and forth on the wind.

life on board was different from the aimless wandering. here, every person had a crucial role given to them, and failing to complete their daily missions was equal to putting the whole crew in chaos. although the atmosphere could be strict at times, especially during the bad weather in the middle of the angered sea, most days were filled with sunkissed faces laughing at each other, drinking wine and dancing as the moon went up.

kazuha liked to observe these people from his quiet place above, resting his chin on his hand. they were cheering to the night, music rustling through the empty sea.

kazuha missed him so much.

but missing him became a constant supplement filling the air like oxygen did, and kazuha couldn't imagine breathing without remembering him.

and the music continued.

one day he told beidou about him, about the rebel camp, about the backstory of every scar covering his skin. he spoke without much expression and even less emotion in his voice. except for the time he mentioned the first time he met tomo and a little wicked smile forced its way on his lips just to be doused with tears one quarter of a second later.

beidou understood.

"war is cruel," she said. "if it wasn't, it wouldn't be called a war."

"you always talk like you had seen it all," kazuha replied, angrily sweeping his tears away. "you make me talk but you yourself never speak much."

"well, you never asked?"

and they would share their memories like they shared a jar of wine, and kazuha suspected one sip too much and he'd descend into a drunkard state beyond healing.

but he told her all.

like these countless times him and tomo would wear fancy festival masks and play to their hearts' content, eating snacks and trying their luck at minigames. like these times they would be far from the city and hunt for fish, only to end up splashed in the river and hungry. then there were those times they would climb on top of the tree to overlook the scenery, and the way tomo's dimples appeared as he smiled brightly pointing at the horizon saying, "all of this is ours."

they would sit there talking from the sunset to the sunrise, speaking of their dreams to see beyond the horizon. their ideas rose higher than the clouds, often making them sound childish in this undying passion, but they didn't care. there was something about the way they challenged the world with a bright smile and a loud laugh that made them unstoppable, swirling through the world in an electric combo.

there was no square on the ground they wouldn't have stepped through, no corner in the whole inazuma they wouldn't try to see. the ruins of araumi, the blue iridescent flowers, the long way up to the sacred sakura, every tiny island thrown into the sea, crooks and caves, mountains and plains. they knew it all.