Note 1: The idea for this definitely came from an episode of Bill Nye the Science Guy's new podcast, Science Rules! — episode 8, "Are We Alone in the Universe?" Was mesmerized by the ideas they discussed, the magic of the universe. Highly recommend; give it a listen. (Disclaimer: I am obviously not a scientist, this is just based on the podcast, my imagination, and a little extra reading.)
Note 2: I'm sorry if this is OOC, but I just wanted an excuse to romanticize the universe.
Axiom
Did you know we are made of stardust? — Kagura x Okita
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Did you know we are made of stardust? she whispers, her lips against his forehead.
It occurrs, as it rarely does, to Okita that Kagura came from the stars. In daylight on the streets of Edo, she is formidable, a challenge, hands on hips, a haughty grin on her childlike mouth. It brings out the child in him to play — and they do. He likes to tweak the buns on the sides of her head, and she sticks two fingers up his nose in retaliation. They throw punches, throw food, throw people at each other. They tear down benches, buildings, street lamps and spaceships. Okita laughs; he has the time of his life taunting this girl into a fight. But now, in the twilight, Kagura is otherworldly, almost supernatural. She is not like him.
A Yato girl, from a planet where it always rains and there is never enough to eat; bred in secret so that the other clansmen do not hunt her down and take her head. A dreamer and a hunter, a girl and a warrior. She is small and slight, in trousers and a Mandarin blouse, translucent as a butterfly's wing. She glows like a lamp, shimmers like an apparition, and she speaks quietly, for his ears only.
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Everything we are, everything we know, she continued, peppering his face with little kisses, is made of stardust.
It is easy to believe that she is made of stardust. She is light and loveliness incarnate, holding him around his head, delicate fingers probing his scalp, her fringe fluttering at the tops of his ears. She has found herself a place in his arms, one knee laying against the top of his thigh, the other leg bent underneath her body; she is poised to throw herself on his lap. Despite himself, Okita shivers. It is so different from combat; he isn't sure what to do, and all he is doing is holding onto her hips for dear life— white knuckled, wrestling with the twin impulses to push her away and call her names (Get off, ugly pig!), or to pull her closer and listen to her very tender words.
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Everything we know, she says now, is only 5% of the universe, and Okita wonders how she knows this — has she seen all 5%? She came to Earth seated on the back of a rocket, probably sucking on seaweed snacks the whole way. He looks into her face and can't for the life of him think of anything else that could encompass the known universe — she is suddenly, viciously, wholesomely, all 5%.
From Earth, you can see trillions of other galaxies, mine included. Kagura sighs, and it brushes over the crown of his hair. By his ear, her heartbeat is slow, steady, as though she is about to fall asleep.
She says, The universe is over thirteen billion years old. His heart drops like a stone. How many zeroes are in a number like that? He fidgets with his hands, as though trying to count on his fingers. How old are you, Okita? she asks, tugs a little bit at his hair. A flush rises up on his neck against his will. She so rarely speaks his name, and now it comes hushed, like a secret between her teeth.
He doesn't meet her eye. I'm eighteen.
Now a chuckle, like a little bubble in her mouth. And I'm fifteen. It's a miracle: the universe so unimaginably old and vast, and these two tiny blips in space-time holding each other somewhere in a corner of it. How, how, how?—
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Can you imagine, she asks, dropping her lips between his eyebrows, lingering there, inhaling deep and slow. He wonders (hopes?) if she will suddenly dispel the magic of this moment, make a comment about how he smells like farts; but she doesn't. She stills, and then he counts seven shallow breaths against his skin. She starts to move again, and Okita is suddenly confronted with her peach-parfait lips, her small pointed nose, the sky blue of her eyes. He blinks. Can you imagine, Kagura murmurs, so close to his lips that he leans in toward her, that the universe is expanding?
Kagura presses her forehead to his, so that their noses are almost touching. He's wide-eyed and can't take his eyes off her — she looks a little desperate, even sensual, her brows furrowed and her lips almost on his.
Long ago, we were all one together, but now we are apart. She says it softly, almost sadly. The entire universe, crushed together in one small point. Everything that has ever existed, all of a piece.
He is spell struck by her words; the air between them is so thick, so tense, he wonders if this is what she meant by together. Was I once part of you? And you, me? Were we once so close together that we were not even separate atoms? It boggles his mind, he cannot compute her words. On Kagura's lips, these facts of science sound more like scripture.
She suddenly smiles and meets his eyes: a new day. And we are growing bigger and bigger, we and our universe.
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Okita breaks first. He moves away.
Are you going to tell me that we really came from apes, too? Okita tries to smirk at her, but doesn't quite succeed when he sees her smile stay in place. He feels again ferociously out of depth. She is from the stars, remember, his mind echoes.
Have you ever seen a star die? She toys now with the collar of his Shinsengumi coat, her eyes on it and not his face. He still has not relinquished his tight grip on her hips, and he is beginning to shake.
Okita finally asks: How does a star die?
She meets his eyes now; her fingers on his collar still. The same way a candle burns out. It eats itself.
Okita shivers again. Her point is taken, suddenly and fearfully. He draws her in closer, so that their bellies touch. Why are you telling me this?
But she smiles again, grasps his face with both hands and comes close: Don't you see? Our world is so big! How can any of us stay in one place all the time? Another laugh, and he breathes again.
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But now Kagura moves away for good — she stands and the magic is quickly broken: they are under a tree, in the park, in the early evening in Edo, not in some far-flung galaxy watching the stars race by. She brushes the grass off her knees and puts her hands on her hips, once again a challenge.
Someday I will go with Pappy and I will see all the universe, not just the 5%! She laughs, light and lovelier than anything.
Something in him clenches; he doesn't have the patience to identify it. She starts to turn away, but Okita reaches out for her and takes her by surprise. She makes a little oof! sound on her lips as she comes crashing back down onto him in the grass, tangled up in his coat and his long limbs, his arms clamped firmly around her. She is blinking at him, as though moments before she had not just woven a beautiful tale of stars and galaxies.
Tell me, how do we know how old the universe is? he asks, simultaneously tightening his hold on her. And what happens to a star after it dies?
Kagura doesn't answer him at first. She takes in the sight of Okita on his back in the grass, his face which is still very bored-looking at odds with the rest of him, strung tight like an archer's bow, or a musical instrument. She leans down now, brings their faces closer together than before. And grins a feral grin.
Want to go see the Milky Way with me, fart-face?
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fin.
Note 4: Thank you.