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Kurea gazed out the window in troubled thought, the deliberative debates of her colleagues just behind her fading into muffled static as she pressed her hand against the pane. Even now the jagged scrapes that stretched down her back stung; with Luluka’s biting words as she shoved her to the ground having made it feel as though she'd slid over hot coals rather than dew-slicked midsummer grass.
Her fingertips curled slightly and left brow gave a frustrated twitch. Just how could the same hands that once held her so tenderly, and lovingly guided her down the daunting detective’s path turn against her so coldly?
“I joined the Thieves Guild… solely so I could defeat you.”
Kurea’s mind raced at light speed now, the wind pressure making her eyes glass over and well up. Couldn’t Luluka see? Was it not obvious enough from the start? The only reason she'd even transformed into Eclair in the first place was…
As she blinked her tears away, in her own reflection she recognized the very same hopelessly anguished expression that Luluka bore behind her on the dock back then, and any runaway thoughts skidded to an abrupt halt.
For the second time that day, a distant echo of Luluka’s guiding voice reminded Kurea to “return to the basics.” At some point, she'd begun to overcomplicate matters in spiraling shock, her own feelings mixed and muddied like a sour milkshake. In reality, Luluka’s true motive may not have lied so far from who she remembered her to be after all.
With regained resolve, Kurea furrowed her brows in determination as she stared down the cunningly crimson evening skyline.
… I think I’m starting to understand, Luluka-chan. I never meant for things to turn out this way, but I can’t stop here… I’m going to deduce and unravel that labyrinth you weaved, with the very same sparkle you ignited in me. So watch closely, okay? And, please forgive me, if you can… because just like you, I’m only doing this because…
I love you.
****
The heat haze at this altitude was near unbearable, rendering Luluka’s vision murky and wobbly as though she were watching an old film; a timeless tragedy of two doomed, star-crossed lovers.
“… I’m surprised you don’t want to visit today,” Mashutan commented, craning her neck back with a concerned gaze. Luluka remained transfixed on the horizon, moving to absentmindedly comb through Mashutan’s fur. “… Do you really think I could show my face there after all that?”
Mashutan thought for a moment, her muzzle scrunching pensively before she gave a heavy sigh, thumping her tail once against Luluka’s thigh. “… To be fair, it’s not like you ever exactly do that in the first place, Luluka dear.”
Luluka huffed in mild irritation. “You know what I-”
“I know, I know,” Mashutan interjected, her serious shift in tone finally earning Luluka’s full attention. As they locked eyes, Mashutan gave her a gentle pat with her paw and an affirming nod of solidarity. “… I’m here, okay?”
Luluka could only offer an affectionate head scratch in response before turning away. Her cheek that had met Kurea’s hard-knuckled fist just hours prior still ached from the inside out, and she found herself unable to help from thinking she was far more deserving of this pain now than any of the countless occasions Kurea had gently caressed her cheek before.
… Wait for me, Kurea. It’ll all be over soon… I’m going to rewrite the script… even if it...-”
A sharp pain shot through Luluka’s chest, and her eyes snapped wide as she burst into a fit of thick, heaving coughs that echoed into the sizzling sky. Alarmed, Mashutan leapt right into action to rub her back as though it were far from the first time this had happened; with Luluka clenching her jaw tight as she gradually recovered, staring daggers into the distance through the gaps in her shaggy, sweat-slicked bangs.
If she didn’t know better, she really would have thought Makoto Mirai had become Hell itself.
… But it surely wasn’t far at this point, right?