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Kudelia loved Mikazuki.
She can’t say that she’d planned on falling in love when she set out in her self-appointed mission, and it had not been something she’d expected after actually meeting him, but it was something that happened.
Since the very beginning, she'd known it was a love that was doomed to fail. Mikazuki was broken in ways she couldn’t—and would never be able to—comprehend, and even though he loved her, she thinks, in his own way, it was definitely not in the same way she did. Or the way Atra did.
Atra.
If Kudelia hadn’t seen her feelings for Mikazuki coming, then her feelings for Atra came as a complete surprise.
This girl—small and soft, young, brave in ways in which Kudelia hadn’t even considered possible before—came from nowhere and crashed into Kudelia’s life like a flying comet. A girl who had loved Mikazuki since the beginning, who had been there for him since they were kids—she should have seen Kudelia as her enemy or at least her rival, but she was nothing but kind to her.
She loved Mikazuki and when she saw that Kudelia loved him, too, she didn't take offense. Instead, she decided that for Mikazuki, she’d be willing to share. It was rocky and terribly awkward at the beginning, but then they spent time together, working and worrying and laughing together. Then Atra weaved a bracelet for her, one that matched the twin pair she shared with Mikazuki, and Kudelia—
Kudelia fell.
Suddenly, without warning, like the floor of the ship beneath her feet opened up and let her fall right into the vast nothingness of space.
The bracelet was a promise. A promise to love and be loved, a promise of belonging, and it might have seemed childish and ridiculous from the outside, a dream of youths on the brink of tragedy, but—
It meant the world to her, back then when everything around her was falling apart. It was the only thing keeping her together, keeping her fighting and planning and hoping. And it means the world to her, now, after everything is over and Tekkadan is gone.
Mikazuki is dead. Orga is dead. Most of the people—the kids—who fought for her and her Revolution are dead, buried or lost to space. And still, Kudelia remains.
It hurts (it will always hurt), but it could be much worse.
Softly, absently, Kudelia tugs at the bracelet around her wrist. It’s a new one, because her first was so well-worn that it had to be replaced. Yet, made by Atra’s loving hands, it still means the same: a promise of love, of belonging, of family.
The world is different, but Kudelia is still here. Atra’s still here. They came together and mourned their losses, and they stayed together after moving on. They are a little bit rough around the edges, with Mikazuki gone, but they have each other and they have Akatsuki, and the edges don’t cut as deep as they used to, anymore.