Finding
Drabble focusing on Nagisa Tachibana. Written by M (co-runner of Vampyric).
Gairyu Beach: Midnight. Full Moon Waves crash upon the rocky shores time after time for time immemorial. The scenery extends as far as the eye can see. A large cliff extends far into the sea, barely visible trees and greenery generously covering whatever flat surface they could take root in.
Only one person walks the beach. A tall, strange one, carrying a sheathed sword seemingly excessive in length, clad in simple dark robes with blue rags drawn across their torso underneath. Thick white hair falls down their back like rapids falling down into a pool of water below, the same shade of white as their eyes scanning the environment.
Every incoming wave seems to follow where they wander, but never does any water touch them. It splashes at their feet, it splashes ahead on their path, it even goes over them -- but never once does any water touch them.
They walk towards the rocky cliffside, examining any errant plant life they can find. The methods used are simplistic compared to the one they take after. Never were they any good at knowing the worth or value of a flower. Their earliest memories of anything of the sort are of trees cracking and falling -- and being told that they should be more careful, lest it happen again. They were no older than five years at the time.
The ensuing thirty minutes lasts an eternity. They scan across every individual blossom, occasionally pulling out a rag to look at -- cross-examination. The rag contains upon it a pattern of a flower, deceptively ornate for such a concept as a “rag.” Underneath it in a bottom corner is written in stitched penmanship so small it seems designed not to be read: “Ukyo.”
Three of those eternally long time frames later, they find what they were looking for. A flower that matches the one embroidered on Ukyo’s rag. It is delicate, despite growing among rocks and thorns, with small purple petals -- it could fit in a child’s hand with ease. But this one is no child, and they pluck it with no resistance from the blossom.
With what they came for in hand, the person slowly turns towards the horizon and takes in the sight of the waves once more. Their heart flutters softly, and they stand entranced for another few minutes before unwillingly turning towards home. They could stand and stare forever. But the flower will not wait.