An emerald field blanketed the world in every direction Ami cared to turn, its lush surface still slick with the rainfall of the previous evening. Above, the rainbow reclined lazily between cotton clouds and the sun sparkled in a sapphire sky.
"You are indeed," replied Shynkon.
She giggled shyly. "Silly. I was talking about the view."
She turned to look at him and was struck by his beauty. Eyes that had been cold and callous were now soft and warm; lips that had voiced such cruel words now spoke with calm and compassion. A face that had before seemed arrogant in its perfection now shone with a gentle grace and when he smiled, he gave off a radiance that was unmistakably his and his alone: the same radiance she had seen in him from the very beginning.
"Ami-chan?"
The sound of her name slipped through her reverie and she realised she'd been staring at him. Blushing, she averted her eyes, letting them trail instead over the pair of bicycles lain carefully upon the grass. Loaned one at Minako's insistence, Shynkon had quickly proven himself as adept at cycling as at walking and running. She hoped also to teach him to dance...
If they had time.
She closed her eyes, shuddering with ill-concealed pleasure as she felt his touch, light against her bare shoulders, his hands warm and gentle. She slid backwards until her head rested against the firm hardness of his chest and the soft white fabric that clothed it. His arms enveloped her, their powerful muscles restrained, wrapping her in warmth and security. "Ami-chan," he whispered again. His hot breath tickled her earlobe. "I..."
He said nothing more for quite some time, and neither did Ami.
"Shynkon-san!"
His name was a joyous cry of invitation as she skipped lightly on bare feet, the dewy grass causing her toes to tingle. She ran and he chased, and then she chased and he ran, and it was with a satisfied exhaustion that Ami allowed herself to be scooped up into his arms and carried back to the picnic blanket, a pink island alone amid the verdant ocean. Reluctantly disentangling herself from him, her eyes caught sight of the picnic basket so generously donated by Makoto – also at her insistence – and she realised she was hungry.
They talked as they ate, about everything: the things they had in common; the things they didn't; the things they wanted to see and do; the things they had done and the things they would do again. He told her about his home and his kin and she told him about her parents and her friends, and about a girl she hoped he would someday meet, if he came back.
He promised.
"It's funny."
Shynkon replied without opening his eyes. "What is?"
Ami rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "It's just, I feel I've lived this moment before."
His eyelids flickered open and he regarded her with interest. "Oh?"
She shook her head and smiled. "Probably just a dream I had."
After that they were silent again, content merely to be close to one another.
His lips were moving now, but no sound emerged.
Ami watched him with fascination: his arm poised above the board; his eyes narrowed slightly with concentration and his lips moving wordlessly, silently voicing a strategy. She stared at his mouth. Was he even aware he was doing it?
She thought again of her first kiss. She had dreamed of it so often, envisioned it in secret stories and wondered who would share it and how it would taste. She had always known that when the time was right, she would just feel it.
And perhaps, later, when the watchful eye of the sun had drifted into slumber and they were alone beneath a sea of stars, just the two of them in all the universe...
Perhaps then, the time would be right.
"Your move."
She raised her eyes to meet his and smiled, and then looked down at the board. It was tiny, a portable version of the game light enough to carry in her bicycle's basket, but it had little pieces carved from wood and painted by hand and she loved it dearly. "Hey," said Shynkon as she selected a piece and carefully made her move, "What were you thinking about, before?"
Ami feigned innocence. "Before?"
"When I made my move. You weren't even looking at the board."
"Oh, that." She thought about it for a moment, idly pushed a strand of cerulean hair behind her ear and replied, "I'll tell you later."
THE END
