wanderer's moon | kaedehara kazuha

10 | scenery instilled in us from our birthplace

Nara sat on one of the many beaches in Inazuma, her bum cushioned by the soft bedding of the white sand. The sea pulled in to her feet, their lips kissing the tips of her toes before pulling away, only to come back. Her hands held each other, arms around the caps of her knees, watching the ever-changing sky as time passes. Each minute, each hour, the sky morphed into an unforeseen future; offering mixed signals to sailors whether the lightning of eternity would touch the horizon, or if the heavens would part the clouds with its ray of light.

There she rests, quiet in the wind, listening to the subtle unrest in the sea's waves. Time and time again, Nara finds herself trying on the shoes of a wanderer, what it would feel like to be one for a glimpse. The life of such soothes her mind day and night, as it is only known that when night descends, Nara habitually finds comfort in it. Trying to embrace the world shrouded in gold is like an attempt to willingly open her heart; slowly, humanely, prying out the arch of her ribs. The heart is guarded by layers of blood and bones, accompanied by the invisible barriers built up from time—for which grief manifested itself to obscure the core of her soul.

Yet, the wisps, outlines and corners of her soul throb with yearning at the thought of another wanderer's absence, solely relying on the memory of moments kept in the size of her palm—only then, would Nara realize days ago that weathers come and go in a lightning's strike.

To become a wanderer would be to let go of one's burdens of the past—clear and unladen. Although it had been many years, the hurricane birthed in her heart long ago had mellowed into a quiet storm; thunder striking only on moonlit nights, skies bruised with purple and grey. Time does heal, but what could Nara do to finally put an end to this eternal battle against herself? Perhaps when the heart has calmed enough to take her journey to the next step, the chance to close the book is nigh.

Nara hums, and continues to watch the firmament changing colours. Twilight is approaching; evident from the signs of a scarlet streak by the horizon, the changing tides, and the pull of the moon towards the sky of the earth. Then, all of a sudden, Nara's eyes are fixed on the ombre sky of blue and green, barely touching the line of a soft crimson. Her gaze stays as if a realization dawned upon her, a discovery of herself.

This habit of encountering sunsets and full moon nights are chances Nara took to cherish the present, allowing the world to swallow her when she is vulnerably alone, knowing full well how easily it can all slip away. It was proven when she was young, that she did not have the slightest idea how time works, or how time is cruel. Only then, does she experience such moments that caused the tempest in her heart, unknowingly staring up at the sky with a vague admiration.

And Nara hopes that when the time comes, she would not be the only one admiring it.

She continues to observe twilight rays of green scattered across the azure, a common yet rare hue to appear right before the light dims. Many called it The Green Sunlight, witnessed by those who tend to peek a little closer to what nature might offer, and they might just read what was written in the stars.

Nara closed her eyes as if she was not meant to read them.

"Look in awe, dear friend. Skies are made of emeralds, for which the sun gleams." A voice, tender like the soft breeze, one meant to read a book of poems, came from behind. Nara's eyes widened in surprise, immediately turning around—her heart floats gleefully, anchored by the longing swelling her soul.

Kazuha stands there with a smile, nothing more, nothing less. The most memorable part of him had always been the sweetness he adorns on his lips and spreads it to the world undeserving of it. And when he smiles, his eyes do too—the last of the sun's streak gleaming on his scarlet gems.