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She was falling. The wind tore through her tousled hair and mangled wing—ripping out strands and feathers alike. It pricked at her skin, slitting her flesh like a barbed thorn bush. She could hear the whistle of it in her ears, overtaking the sound of even her own screams.
She was falling, but that wasn’t right.
She knew this moment—had already lived it years prior. She had tried so hard to forget, yet she couldn’t help but remember the feeling. The despair of freefalling; her injured wing curled against her side, the pain too great to unfurl. Staring up at the clouds while tears filled her eyes—unsure as to when she would impact the ground.
It would be any second now. She would hit the earth with a resounding thud; maybe her spine would snap, maybe her head would split. Blood would pour out of her cracks, taking with it her consciousness and sentience. She would no longer be a person, reduced to a mutilated corpse without a name.
She was supposed to protect herself, and had been entirely confident that she could succeed. Her strength was the one thing she could control—the only thing that belonged solely to her. Yet she failed. She had failed so abysmally that she was now mere seconds away from death—a death she was beginning to realize she was wholly unprepared for.
She didn’t want to die. She wasn't ready. And maybe she never would be, but even she knew this was much too soon. She hadn’t even begun living her life yet, so why was it being ripped away so abruptly? She had never been given a name, let alone a home. And she wanted one so dearly. She ached for everything she’d never been given, all the things she would never experience. This wasn’t how she wanted it to end—she wasn’t ready to go.
She gave one last attempt at unfurling her wings, forcing her way past the shooting pain that enveloped her. Three responded to her pleas, curling outward and mechanically beating against the sky. But her bottom right required a bit more coaxing. The shattered bones protested her every movement, tearing another scream from her lungs. No matter how hard she pushed, her damaged wing would not answer her instruction—instead sending pinpricks of agony swirling through her body. She realized with terrifying clarity that she was actually about to die.
I’m not ready yet!
I’m not ready!
I’m not—
She landed soundlessly, with no one around to hear but her.
—:—:—
When Sara’s eyes fly open, she can’t see. It’s completely dark—a contrast to the brilliant blue sky she was just plummeting through. The ground digs into her back, sharp and rigid—no longer freefalling but uncomfortable nonetheless.
Is she still alive? injured? dead?
She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, trying desperately to claw its way out of her ribcage. But it’s still beating. She has to be alive then; otherwise ensnared in some sick sort of afterlife.
She can’t breathe. The air she rapidly gulps into her lungs isn’t enough, seemingly vanishing faster than she can inhale it. She tries to assess the state of her body but can’t. It feels like she is being held down, pushed forcefully into the ground.
She unfolds her wings, stretching them out to their fullest extent. She’s immediately reassured when they all listen—the muscles smoothly and easily flexing, while the joints follow along without restraint. Curling them outwards no longer hurts; all that remains is a phantom pain that floats throughout her bones.
She tries her best to sit up, but that cumbersome weight never strays in its hold on her. She tries to lift her arms but her wrists feel shackled to the ground. She squirms, wrestling against her restraints—again, they hold steadfast. Her heart rate begins to quicken, her breaths become more shallow.
But then, they’re gone.
Her arms are released, and there’s a gentle touch on her face.
Hands. There are hands on her face. Hands cradling her cheeks.
They’re warm and soft. The pads of their thumbs sweep across her cheeks and under her eyes.
And then she can see. It’s still dark, and her vision is obscured by tears, but now she can see the hazy outline of Kokomi in front of her.
Kokomi. It’s okay, because Kokomi is here now.
She can hear the soothing whisper of Kokomi’s voice in her ear. Feel the soft press of Kokomi’s forehead against her own.
“There you are.”
Time seems to finally stop then. It slows to a standstill, taking with it her rapidly beating heart and heaving chest. The blood rushes to her ears and she’s no longer trapped. She can hear the rustle of curtains in the mellow breeze allowed by a partially opened window. The incessant hum of fireflies lingering just outside. And the pacifying sound of Kokomi’s breaths mingling with her own.
Her eyes adjust to the dim light and she recognizes their room, just the same as it was before they slipped between the sheets. Sheets that are slightly rumpled against her skin—unpleasant but not painful. Kokomi’s smaller frame is straddled across her waist, providing a comforting weight. A weight that grounds her rather than trapping her. Kokomi keeps her tethered to the moment—from the hands that wipe her tears, to the feel of a body against her own. Her presence now aids in pulling Sara from her nightmares, just like it has many nights before.
She can feel tears descending down her face, and she can’t help but let out a muted sob. Kokomi’s there in an instant, ready to kiss away her tears and cradle her cheeks. She offers mutterings of affirmation in between kisses—
“it’s okay,”
“I’m here,”
“you’re here with me,”
“you’re allowed to cry.”
Sara’s chest chokes with barely-restrained sobs at that. For her entire life, she’s never been allowed to cry. She could never afford it, it was a sign of weakness—it left her unguarded and weary. As a kid it could get her killed, as a member of the Kujou Clan it could leave her abandoned, and as a general it could lead to insolence. But here, with Kokomi, she is simply Sara. She’s in the place she feels the safest, with the person she loves the most. And maybe it’s okay to cry here.
So she does. She allows herself to bawl unrestricted. And just like always, Kokomi is there to shower her with love and comfort. If anything, Sara’s cries appear to spur her on—seemingly more determined than ever to prove just how much she loves her. Sara’s breathing stutters at this, because how could she ever be deserving of this much adoration? Kokomi has expressed the entirety of her feelings since the beginning, never giving Sara the chance to doubt them. She has shown her more affection in a few years than Sara thought she would ever receive in her whole life. And Sara has never been good at conveying her thoughts or emotions; but Kokomi is utterly perfect, and had immediately recognized this. Instead of faulting Sara and leaving, she had patiently shown her how to love. How to communicate love and how to receive it. But even with that, Sara still tends to struggle on the receiving end.
Kokomi seems to know exactly what she’s thinking, because she reaches down to link her hands with Sara’s clenched fists. She intertwines their fingers and presses a sweet kiss to the side of her head. “I love you, I love you so much, and I will always love you.” she whispers, with a light squeeze to their laced hands.
Sara squeezes back and attempts to quell her sobs. “I’m sorry,” she tries, failing to mask the stutter in her voice. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“
Kokomi doesn’t hesitate; “it’s okay,” she says, “we’re okay.” She pulls their hands up to her chest. “You never need to be sorry for your emotions, not with me.” She presses another kiss to her cheek and Sara is finally able to drag in a deep breath.
“Thank you,” she whispers, the hint of a stutter behind her words. “Kokomi I- I don’t know what I would do without you—how I would survive without you.”
She feels Kokomi’s fingers softly brush her palms in response. “Well it’s a good thing you have me then, huh?” She whispers, the sweetest smile gracing her features and a twinkle in her crinkled eyes. “Although I must admit,” the weight on Sara’s chest shifts as Kokomi presses closer, “the feeling is mutual.” And with that she places her soft lips against Sara’s, cradling her hands against still tear-streaked cheeks.
Sara sighs into the kiss and wraps her arms around Kokomi’s breeze-chilled shoulders. Memories of nights spent awake with tears in her eyes and fear in her heart are replaced by the sweet lips pressed against her own and the comforting weight upon her chest. After years of aimless falling with no end in sight, Sara finally feels like she’s landed.
Kokomi pulls away from the kiss too soon, earning a soft whine from Sara in response. She rests her head in the crook of Sara’s neck while her hands find their way to the wings wreathing their bodies.
Sara falls back asleep to the feel of dainty fingers stroking her wings, Kokomi’s easy breaths warming the skin of her neck.