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Guilt pools in his heart.
Kazuha never imagined that he would be back here – the place he was born, on this very day many years back, and the same place he no longer is welcome. Yet, he has one last thing to fulfil before he accepts that fact.
A Masterless Vision lays lifeless in his palm, staring back at him with an unrecognisable grey colour. He used to gaze at it in awe – in admiration of its brilliant purple hue, minuscule shocks of lightning in the ball of elemental energy fascinating him even more than the last time he saw them. And each time it lit up, accompanied with the scene of his dear lover pinning him to the ground in a spar he won yet again with a huge grin on his face, the rest of the world seemed to not matter.
Of course, that is simply a fleeting memory now as he tears his eyes off the Vision, instead facing a gap in the mountains. One with a pathway, freely inviting him in.
His feet move on their own, soft digs in the dirt coming from each step acting as a form of comfort. He ponders – about his life before the Vision Hunt Decree, about his life after, about his life with Tomo. One that they were supposed to share, even despite their solitary pursuits of wandering.
The night hangs over him like a mockery of what he's lost. Twinkling cyan flowers illuminate the path he walks as if every step he takes is a moment to celebrate, and it's a breathtaking sight. But it's awfully lonely.
Crickets chirp, and many insects crawl between the overgrown bushes at the end of the mountain, and even a little white cat that he's all too familiar with meows and circles around his legs, but he still can't shake off the isolated feeling. Tama is picked up with no resistance, and Kazuha nestles her against his chest. He whispers to her just to fill the aching silence, "You've been good, right?"
She meows, and follows up with a cry a pause later – a meow much more drawn out than the others, as if she said something meaningful.
Kazuha understands, and like a normal conversation, he replies, "I know, I know," as he strokes her fur in between his fingers, "I miss him too."
He sets her down beside the sword hilt in the ground with a final pat on the head, and tightly grips the Vision still held in his palm. It's cold – freezing, even – but its golden edges still glimmer with the flowers by the sides of his feet, as if there's life still left in it. He'd like to believe that there is.
With a sigh, he lowers onto the floor, grave at his side. Tama curiously sniffs at him before jumping into his lap, settling herself in before shutting her eyes. No complaints, he thinks, before his hand instinctively reaches to pet her as he starts reminiscing old times.
He gazes at the hilt stabbed into the ground, and pictures it being wielded; how it danced in the air, firmly held in the grasp of Tomo's hand, before being plunged into an enemy or gently placed on a rack. How it contrasted so greatly to his own blade – violet lightning crackling around the steel against the rushing wind that surrounded Kazuha, only in moments of rampant energy with the two. How it came to be – the two travelling together to find the materials, and Tomo watching in awe as Kazuha forged it. And of course, its demise – being severed in a duel that he was overpowered in strength, but not in will.
Tama stretches, her claws pricking the surface of Kazuha's skin. He remembers when she came into his life, too – a stray kitten, couldn't have been older than a month, trembling and yelling in a bush. Tomo, in his recount of the story, had told him that he 'just couldn't leave it alone' and ended up adopting her. Kazuha fit into this family like he was the last piece of the puzzle.
Again, he glances at the Vision. The more he looks back on memories, sweet moments they shared that seemed so recent but were far too long ago, the more his heart aches. He does know something he can do before he leaves, though.
Kazuha places Tomo's Vision just in front of the sword hilt, and once his fingers let go, he swears he hears the smallest shock of electricity buzz from it. There is no time for him to dwell on that now, so he puts his hands together in a prayer – prays that his soul finds peace, that his ambition and name is never forgotten, and that he may find rest.
He sighs, and with the wind, walks away.
ϟ
The rushing waves are tranquil, and enough of a melody to soothe Kazuha's heart. Being back on the Alcor is something he's grateful for – the fact that he's found a stable place to be, a place on the sea he can fall back on even when his heart longs to wander the land.
Members of the Crux already know not to bother Kazuha – he had only been travelling with them for a short time, yet the only person he truly got acquainted with was the Captain: Beidou. Even when his emotions paint a blank slate on his face, she can always tell when something is bothering him, especially considering the lack of peace he's had since boarding.
So, like usual, Kazuha blankly stares into the ocean, soft ripples whispering in his ear. He's relatively calm until a gentle voice asks him, "Kazuha, what's with that face?"
By the care in her voice and the concerned tone he's grown used to hearing, he doesn't need to turn around to know it's Beidou asking. "No worries, simply… thinking."
Beidou takes a seat beside him. It's still dark – the rest of the Crux must be asleep. She responds, "I know there's more than that, kid." She turns to face him, yet he's still facing forward. "You've talked to me before about this kind of stuff, haven't you?"
He nods, but doesn't provide a reply. Beidou knows not to keep pushing. "Alright, I'll leave you be. But I'm always here for you – we've got to have each other's backs as crewmates, right?"
Have each other's backs as crewmates.
The land is his calling, what he's loved since childhood, yet the mere idea of being on the sea with others – having each other's backs as crewmates , as she put it – doesn't sound so bad either. It may not be a permanent thing, but for now, it's a wonderful idea.
"...Right. Thank you, Captain."
She chuckles, ruffling Kazuha's hair as she says with a smile, "I told you, you don't have to be so formal. Just call me Beidou."
The faintest smile creeps up his face as he replies back, "Okay. Thank you, Beidou."