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Moonlight was made for Tsurugi Kyouka.
It was made to reflect her dark locks as she danced, her jumps so high one could swear she was flying. It was made for her skin to soak up, to consume, to become a part of her. It was made to show her regal expression, somber eyes moving everyone to tears with just one look.
Moonlight was made for Kyouka to dance in it, for there was not anything more angelic than her.
Tenma sat there, legs crossed, on the floor. The stars behind her were twice as many tonight, a reflection of passed opportunities and meetings.The moon shone bright, highest it would ever reach for the night. She had her back turned towards it anyway. She did not care. There was no star or moon that would make her tear away her gaze from Her. She started to think that there was no power like that, either.
The thumping of the pointe shoes on the ground was loud, much louder than what someone might expect. The thumping of her heart was loud too.
She was almost in front of her now. Her arms outstretched, moves so subtle and pure that for a moment she could see the wings they were supposed to represent. From her seat on the floor, She seemed like a statue. If Tenma prayed now, would it become true? If she wished for a chance to hold her, would she get it? Would her hands be able to grasp that waist and pull her close, the scent of lilies overwhelming all of her senses? Would she be able to drown in her and her affection?
The music continued and so did the dancer.
There was something beautiful in the way she was ‘dying’. Something peaceful in the way she kneeled, hands outstretched. There was tragedy in the way she hugged herself, slender fingers almost tearing skin. There was something mesmerizing in her expression as she was on the floor, back arched as she looked up, a swan not quite giving up. She was dancing as if She knew how it felt to die; as if She would die at the end of this act. She was dancing as if her flesh and blood, and bones were made from tragedy and pure adoration.
She wanted to tear apart every layer, wanted to see if there was really that much sadness and love in the core of Her. If there was, would she be allowed to share and cherish them? Would she be allowed to wipe tears of sorrows by kissing her cheeks? Could she hold Her hand, just because?
The music stopped, giving way to labored breath.
Tenma’s longing did not.