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It’s a quiet night.
Kohaku typically appreciates quiet nights. Lately, when everything has been so hectic—and complicated—and downright scary—she appreciates it even more than usual. With how exhausted everyone else is, she knows she isn’t alone in that.
The thing is, it is not a source of reprieve tonight. There is a knot in her chest, unrest in her stomach. It has been growing for days, and while she is certainly not the only anxious one…
This is different. Something is wrong, and no amount of gazing up at the stars has managed to solve it.
Instead, she takes to staring at her companions. Hisui and Innes seem to be in the midst of some sort of debate, which Beryl is perhaps refereeing (in Innes’s favour, by the looks of things). Kunzite stands close by. Kohaku gets the sense he is listening in on the conversation.
Just when she is beginning to wonder where he has gone off to, she hears someone settle down beside her and turns to face Shing. He hands her some water. Her thanks has no time to extend beyond a smile before he’s saying, “You don’t have an opinion on what makes a good stew?”
“Huh?” She pauses. Scoffs at him. “Of course I do!”
“Then why aren’t you sharing?”
She follows his gaze back to where the others are. Suddenly, Hisui’s low standing makes sense.
“I thought they were talking about Soma,” she admits.
“Nope. Just stew. I’d say they’re both wrong anyway, but my grandpa never taught me how he did it.”
His expression is forlorn when she glances back at him, but brightens as soon as their eyes meet.
“So, what are you doing all alone over here, then?” he asks.
“Just thinking, I guess.”
“Yeah? I don’t think you’re the only one.”
This time, his gaze is cast across their camp. Kohaku was so busy watching the others, she hadn’t noticed that, on the other side of the fire, Richea is sitting by her lonesome, too. Though her profile is half-obscured by the night, there is a stark tension in her figure illuminated by the flames against the shadows. The position is familiar, if only because Kohaku can already feel all the anxiety inherent in it.
For a few long seconds, she watches Richea. When she whirls around to face Shing again, he registers the determined set of her jaw with a sudden look of alarm. She gives him no chance to speak before her hand is wrapped around his and she is hoisting them both up to their feet.
“We’re going to make some stew,” she informs him.
Shing’s alarm softens into a mild confusion. Even so, he doesn’t question the order; this is something she has always liked about Shing, his ability to take spontaneity in stride. Hisui is far more partial to complaints when she “drags him into” things.
But making stew is not dangerous, or even overly difficult. When they approach the fire and begin to set everything up, Richea turns her head slightly to watch them. It may be wishful thinking, but Kohaku thinks she sees her shoulders relax, just a little bit.
Eventually, the smell of food simmering over the fire draws the others closer. Beryl says something under her breath that Kohaku isn’t close enough to hear but is clearly meant for Hisui anyway, since he scowls deeply in response. Kunzite settles near Richea, and Innes on his other side. Though the size of their little circle keeps Hisui and Beryl side-by-side, they pointedly do not speak to one another.
Even after the food is ready and everyone has had some (with various compliments to the chefs), the silence remains. Richea continues to sit tense and distracted.
Kohaku clears her throat and says, loudly, “You know, Hisui used to be a way worse cook. You shouldn’t judge his tastes too harshly.”
Everyone’s eyes land on her, while Hisui splutters. “What?!”
She ignores him. “Like, when we were a lot younger, he always wanted to do things himself, especially if he was doing them for me. But one year for my birthday, he tried to make a whole big meal, and well…”
Beryl shoots a sly glance in Hisui’s direction. “None of it was edible?” she guesses.
Kohaku’s lips twitch up. “Just about.”
“Most of it was fine!” Hisui protests.
“The rice was okay,” Kohaku concedes. “As for the salmon…”
Beryl bursts into giggles; Hisui looks like he might slap her, so Kohaku quickly goes on to say, “But it was a really nice gesture. I mean, he made everything he thought I would like! It made me really happy.”
“Oh, yeah,” Shing says casually, “Hisui’s practically known for his nice gestures everywhere we go now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” Shing frowns at him. “The last time we were in a town, you know, he left everyone behind for a bit.”
Kohaku taps her chin, thinking back. “And told us he had to do some extra shopping.”
“Yeah, but he was actually going to help an old lady carry her groceries home!”
Innes raises an eyebrow at this. “Surely he must have met her while shopping?”
“She was just there,” Hisui says sourly.
“Hisui is certainly not heartless,” Richea puts in quietly. “It’s no surprise he would double back to do something like that.”
Something about her tone is somewhat unsettling; Hisui will not look at her. Before Kohaku can say anything, Beryl pipes in with, “Yeah, but it’s not very often that he wakes up on the right side of the bed, is it?”
Richea’s comment is clearly forgotten as he turns heatedly back to Beryl. Innes watches them both in amusement; even Kunzite seems somewhat invested in their bickering, which quickly turns into the centre of the conversation once again.
While Beryl’s grand gesticulations are admittedly difficult to look away from, that uncomfortable tug in Kohaku’s gut is enough to have her turning back to where Richea is sitting, but she finds the space empty. Hesitant, she glances around the fire, until her eyes finally land on Shing. She is oddly unsurprised to find that he is already looking at her—that he has noticed Richea too.
When their gazes lock, he offers her a little smile; with a deep breath to steel herself, she briefly returns it, then turns again, resolute, to get up and follow after Richea, whose head is tilted skyward.
She doesn’t look away from the blanket of stars, amongst which her homeworld is uncomfortably nestled, as Kohaku approaches, nor when she comes to a stop just beside her. She says, very quietly, “I brought you into all of this, and you still think it’s your job to cheer me up.”
“I don’t think it’s my job.”
Richea drops her gaze and turns just enough to meet Kohaku’s. “Well…thank you, anyway.”
The “I’m sorry” she doesn’t say resounds much more loudly around them, Kohaku thinks.
“We’re friends,” she says. “This is just— Friends help each other. Because that’s what we want to do. Right?”
It is easy to forget just how old Richea is at times. But when her eyes fall and she looses a short, tired sigh, Kohaku can see the pressure of time perched on her shoulders.
“I have never… Nothing I’ve done has helped you. Any of you.”
“That’s not true.” Kohaku frowns. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be thankful you were here. They’re all the same. I’m sure of it. Even Hisui.”
And yet, even now, all the youth they shared, have ever shared, reflects brightly in her eyes when she glances up at Kohaku.
She reaches out to grab Richea’s hand, drawing up her full attention again. She entwines their fingers and offers her a bright smile. “Just being someone’s friend helps a lot, you know!”
“I…”
“And,” Kohaku adds, “you were there for me when no one else really could be. So if you need someone now…” She gestures with her free hand toward their companions, and then to herself. “Don’t be scared to ask for help when you need it.”
Richea’s fingers fold around Kohaku’s hand, holding with equal pressure. She makes a feeble attempt at mirroring Kohaku’s expression. “I… Yes. I know.”
“Whatever happens, we’ll be there with you. I mean, we… You, and all of us, our hearts…”
“Are connected,” Richea finishes.
“Right! It’s okay if it gets a little heavy, but when that happens, well—we’ll always be around to make stew, or…anything else, really.”
“Miso soup, maybe.”
“Now there’s an idea!” Kohaku lifts their joined hands and gives Richea’s a small, reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be there to help you make it. I promise.”
She squeezes back, with much less force, and then drops their hands. “I know,” she says softly. “Let’s go back, then. There’s still plenty of stew, isn’t there?”
Before Kohaku can say anything more, she is already walking back to the fire. Something heavy lingers in the air, even as that tight sensation in her chest begins to loosen, and yet Richea’s shoulders do not look quite so tense, quite so burdened.
She shakes her head in an attempt to clear away the sensation, and then hurries after Richea. Whatever anxiety remains, she is sure it will ease with just a little more time.