There's a slight emetophobia warning for this chapter, for those concerned. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Hours later, Luka finally sat up again, dabbing at tear-stained cheeks. If Miku had noticed her crying at all, then she hadn't said anything. In fact, the other woman hadn't made a single noise since their fight. Luka turned towards her and found her still very present, sitting still, staring at nothing. Wordlessly, Luka crawled past her, ignoring the flinch she got in response, and opened the door. The air was warm now, if painfully salty, but the desalination kit had at least yielded some water.

Luka drank half and then crawled toward Miku.

"I don't want it," the woman muttered.

Luka didn't blink. "Drink."

"I don't want to."

"I'm not asking again. Drink."

Miku curled inwards, but relented, grabbing the container and finishing the water. Luka then reset the desalinator, licking her dry lips. After that, she sat outside for a while, wedged between the canopy and the thick tube edge of the raft, and savored the early afternoon sun. She breathed deeply, evenly, and then pulled out her notebook.

Dear Meiko,

Same day, same shit. Except I totally blew up in Miku's face earlier. She was acting like an insufferable brat, and I said some things I shouldn't have said. Sure, I was honest, but nobody needs to hear that they have death wished upon them. It was...a lot. She hasn't said a word since. I hope she's okay, at least to a point. I really don't need a second fatality here. If I end up alone I might lose it. During our fight, it really, actually sunk in that Gakupo is dead. He's gone. He's not coming back. And it hurts. It hurts so bad, Meiko. No more flipping coins or double taps on the shoulder, no more of him being there by my side. No more owed favors.

She paused to collect her bearings: the tears were threatening to come back, so she took a couple of nice, deep breaths.

I wonder how I'll tell his parents that he died saving me. He pushed me forward, you know? It could've been me left behind, or whatever happened back there. But no, he pushed me first. And now I have to live with that. I get to live on, and his friends, his family, they all need to live on without him.

Luka looked up from her pages of scrawling. There was absolutely nothing out there. No birds at all. She wondered if there were fish at these depths. If there were sharks. If there was someone, anyone out there, searching for them.

Presuming we make it out alive at all, anyway. It's so empty out here, Meiko. Have you even heard we crashed yet? Are people searching for us? Are we presumed dead? I don't know where we're going. I don't know if we're drifting or going in circles. I don't know how far we are from the crash site. How far we are from shore. With a boat, it'll probably take a few days to reach us? At least? Can helicopters fly this far out? I don't know; I've never flown one.

I hope you're not too worried. I'm okay. I'll live. I'll take care of Miku, too. I'll do better.

Luka pocketed her notebook and took another deep breath before crawling back inside.

Her shoulder was killing her.

"Oh, you're back," Miku said, and her voice sounded subdued.

"I'm here. You all right?"

"I'm fine."

Luka looked at her for a while. She was sitting straight, sure. Her hands rested limply in her lap. Her makeup was still smeared. But the lights were out in her eyes. There was no life there, or very little of it. Her entire face was slack, and she only furtively made eye contact with Luka, as if she were making sure she wasn't getting any closer.

"We can talk, you know," Luka said after clearing her throat.

"Talk?"

"It's a form of entertainment. I imagine we might have plenty to talk about. I don't know you, you don't know me."

"I don't feel like it."

Instead of one of her grandiose declarations, the statement was sad, dejected, bordering on hopeless.

"That's fair. I have a pencil and some paper. We can play tic-tac-toe or something at some point. I have plenty of paper, too. I could make playing cards."

Miku didn't reply, staying in her corner, facing slightly away from Luka.

Luka didn't shrug, didn't blink, and merely took Miku's lack of reply in stride and curled up herself.

"Did you mean all of that?" was the sudden question.

Luka hesitated. "I was honest. But I shouldn't have said it."

"Hmm."

When Luka turned to look at her, Miku was softly combing through her hair, picking at the knots within. She'd be in for a few hours of work, but there was nothing better to do.

"Do you want help with that?"

"You hate it."

"I don't... I don't literally hate your hair. I meant more that I hated all that you stood for. All that you represented."

That reply only seemed to sadden Miku further.

"You have to see why," Luka said, sitting up. Her life jacket dug uncomfortably into her gut. "You know how you treated me. Imagine if I treated you the same way."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You can't be serious," Luka said, stunned. "What if I went around bossing you around like I owned you? Treating you like some sort of slave? Get my luggage, this. Pour me some wine, that. You have to let all my friends fly with me, you have to!" she said, in a somewhat mocking tone. "You know now why I didn't let all your friends fly with us, right? You have to have connected the dots."

"I... I don't."

"Look at this raft. It's for fourteen people. The rations, they're for fourteen people. If I had allowed all your friends to come along and something had happened, then some of them might have died. You might have died."

Miku paused for a moment, before returning to her hair. "Oh."

"All this time, ever since we met, ever since I first flew you around, I've always been looking after you. Every decision I ever made was made to keep you safe. And in exchange I get complaints, whining, wanting more, wanting something different, being called Captain Buzzkill. I'm sorry, I can't afford to be 'fun' with this job. I can only keep you safe. And look, it's gotten us this far. We're warm, we're fed, we have water. I'm doing my best. And all you can manage is to insult me and the memory of my dearest friend. You have to see it now."

Miku pouted, picking at her hair.

"Do you need help?"

"No," Miku said, her tone flat.

"Okay."

Luka laid back down, rolled over, and decided that if nothing else, she'd have a nice nap, using her half-deflated yellow life jacket as a pillow. And sleep came easily. At first, the faint sound of Miku picking at her hair, along with a grumble every now and then, would rouse her somewhat. But the ocean itself was surprisingly silent, the bobbing of the waves serving to lull the woman into slumber quite quickly.

Luka didn't dream at first. At least, nothing that she remembered. But suddenly, she was back in the plane again, life jacket on, screaming at Gakupo for him to go first. The sea was lapping at the windshield, the storm roared overhead, and he insisted that she go first. And he grabbed her, and pushed her, and she walked, only this time, she looked behind while she ran.

She saw him struggle, his life jacket stuck on something. She watched as he tugged, and tugged, yelling for help. But she didn't hear him over the storm, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Miku open the emergency exit.

"No!"

She was too late: Miku yanked the door open, allowing the rush of water to fill the space. It rushed to the cockpit, and Luka saw Gakupo take his last desperate breath, watched him tug, pull, and finally reach out towards her, despair visible through the murky waters.

"Gakupo!"

But she was being pulled outside, out onto the raft, and she watched him go, watched the life leave his eyes, the bubble of air leave his mouth.

"Gakupo!"

She woke up screaming, panting, sobbing. She was grasping at the wall of the raft, the slick material sliding against her fingertips.

"Gakupo...?" she breathed, looking around, but it was only her and Miku, who stared at her, shocked.

Disoriented, Luka looked at her watch. It was evening, ten to five. The sun was still shining outside, lighting up the raft in the usual bright orange-red hue.

"I..." She got on her hands and knees and crawled towards the door. She zipped it open clumsily, and once outside, she gagged, hacking and coughing. Eventually, she threw up, and her vomit—the same nauseating color as the ration bars she'd been eating—dissolved in the dark blue waters that surrounded them.

And then Luka cried, not even bothering to hold back. She didn't hide that she'd thrown up. She didn't hide that she was devastated by all that had happened. She simply let herself weep. If Miku cared, she didn't communicate it in the slightest. She didn't visit Luka outside. She didn't even bother to speak at all. If anything, that only made the shattered pilot weep harder.

She was stuck in the ocean, floating over her best friend's grave, with someone who hated her guts.

The injustice of it all had made her sick, and it continued to make her stomach churn.

"How the fuck am I going to survive out here," she groaned into her arms. Her shoulder hurt, her heart hurt, her soul hurt. There was no comfort, only a bright orange-red raft and some reflective blankets.

So she headed back inside, out of the bitter evening wind.

"Is there water?" Miku asked once Luka returned.

"I... I'll check."

Back out she went, and in the hours that she'd been unconscious, a sizable amount of water had collected. She returned, already chugging her half. This time, Miku said nothing, watching her drink.

Once Luka was done with her half, she handed the container to Miku. Without complaint, the younger woman drank her half as well, then handed the container back to Luka. Luka washed it briefly in the sea water, dried it off with a sponge, then reset the device.

"I hope we'll have water by morning," she mumbled as she returned to the inside of the canopy.

"I hope so, too," Miku muttered in return. "We didn't have lunch."

Luka blinked. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving."

The pilot tossed her a ration bar, and Miku dug in almost greedily, but she paused quickly.

"Aren't you going to have one?"

"I'm not hungry," Luka deadpanned, arranging her blankets, constructing a comfortable nest, if only to get weight off her shoulder. The pain was getting worse. Plus, crawling around all the time certainly didn't help; she desperately wanted to stand up, but it felt impossible on the raft.

"You need to have one," Miku insisted.

"I'll be fine."

"But—"

"I'm fine."

Miku didn't seem convinced, but she left Luka alone, chewing on her ration bar in annoyed silence.

Luka woke up early the following morning with a groan. The first thing she did was grab desperately for a ration bar, eating it like her life depended on it.

It did, really.

As she ate, she took note of the time: four fifty in the morning. She'd slept for another nine hours.

"How the fuck do I sleep so much..." she muttered to herself, and she pulled out her notebook. It was hard, writing in the dark, but she grabbed the flashlight with her teeth and made do.

Dear Meiko.

It's the dawn of Day Two. Yesterday, I had the worst nightmare about Gakupo dying. Last night, nothing. I don't know why I'm sleeping so much, but I don't mind. It's a way to pass the time. Maybe we should be putting the canopy down during the day, though, and keep a lookout for help. Who knows how many rescue opportunities we may have missed? Then again, I don't want us to get sunburned in this relentless sun. There's no sunscreen in the raft and nothing to relieve burns, just cream against saltwater skin injuries. Which, if this keeps up for very long, I'm going to need. The salt is seeping into my skin, into my suit,—

She interrupted her writing to peel off her life vest and then her suit jacket.

"Much better," she whispered. The life vest went back on of course, and with fewer layers between her and the foam, it dug into her skin quite uncomfortably.

—everywhere. It's a miracle Miku isn't complaining more than she is, but since yesterday, she hasn't said much of anything, really. Just asked for food and water. Which I can handle, but I'm afraid I went a little too hard on her. She's just a girl, really. I wonder if she's in university or something. Dad must have paid for the best of the best, I imagine. But I digress. Dawn of Day Two and I hope there won't be a Day Three. I'll play lookout today. See if I can put the flares to use.

She played with her pencil, wondering what else to say, then gave up, turning the page and looking around for something to sketch. The summer sun rose early, and the canopy of the raft was starting to light up.

There was a pile of rations, simple shapes, straightforward lines and shading. She sketched it regardless, just to have something to do. There were the empty corners of the raft, with the interesting curves of inflated plastic. There were parts where the tube creased, where the floor bunched in the corners.

She found she breathed easier while she sketched. Of course, her shoulder still hurt, but drawing was one of her true and tested ways for her to meditate. To disconnect from the world, to find peace. It brought a brief sense of tranquility to the raft, the silence broken with only by the sound of her pencil on paper.

When she was done sketching the corners, too, she turned her attention to something else, anything else. And then she noticed Miku sleeping across from her.

In her slumber, the girl had turned to face Luka. She was also using her old life jacket as a pillow, and her hair, which did look a little better, was splayed all around her. Luka chuckled at the way the vest pushed Miku's cheek towards her face, creating an unflattering portrait. So she sketched her, too, at first with a smile, but the smile soon faded.

In all honesty, Miku struck a very handsome figure. She was girlish with what she wore, with how she presented herself. She still wore those damn designer jeans and that jacket of hers, without a life vest, so irresponsible. But her face had something that leaned slightly away from that.

Luka chuckled for a moment, wondering if Miku could ever look boyish, or even manly, but that was far from the mark. As she sketched in the lines of her face, the curve of her jaw, of her eyebrow, there was something very handsome about her indeed, if not quite masculine. She was pretty, that much was obvious, but this new air about her surprised the pilot.

"You're actually..." Luka mumbled, focused on her drawing. Her eyes darted between her art and the subject repeatedly, wondering how to best capture her likeness. "You're actually really cute."

Time passed, and Luka kept refining her sketch. At least, it started as a sketch: it had turned into a full-blown portrait. The comedy of the cheek pressed inward had dissolved, surrounded by the rest of the honest likeness. Before Luka knew it, her drawing was done, and it was half past seven.

Luka closed her notebook and went to sit outside, bringing with her the telescope and a flare gun. Once there, she turned off the light, and found a place between the canopy and the tube to sit and stand watch. She used her compass to find north, where she guessed the closest landmass might be, and settled in to keep watch on the horizon.

It was depressing how utterly empty it all was. Luka saw the trails of planes far overhead, but part of her knew that getting the attention of a commercial jet would be impossible. So she kept her eyes lower, at the horizon, and waited.

After what felt like ages, Luka heard a faint "Hello?"

"I'm outside," she called out, patting against the canopy so Miku would see where she was sitting. "Ah, shit, you don't have a life jacket." Then she hurried inside, so that Miku wouldn't try to meet her outside, if she planned to meet her at all.

Indeed, when Luka crept back inside the canopy, she found the younger woman sitting upright, eating a ration bar. She did a doubletake, but then zipped the door shut behind her.

"I thought you left, somehow!" Miku said, her tone indignant, but at the same time lacking the bite it had earlier.

"Where would I go?"

"Anywhere but here, obviously," the younger woman pouted, though it missed some of its old sincerity; it was almost as if she were playing a part.

Luka sighed. "We need to talk."

"Hm."

"But first…" Luka grabbed one of the sponges. It was still slightly damp, which would do. She approached Miku and sat across from her, keeping her movements slow and deliberate, so she wouldn't startle the younger woman .

"I want to apologize for most of what I said yesterday," she said, sitting as close to Miku as she dared. "It was... It was harsh. You didn't have to hear all of that."

Miku glared at her. "But you meant it."

"At the time. I was angry. You angered me."

"So it's my fault."

"No. What I said is still my responsibility. And I'll admit, those words didn't come from a vacuum: those were thoughts I'd been having for a long while. But right now, we're dying. I meant that when I said it and I still mean it: we're currently dying."

"It sure feels like it," Miku sneered.

"And you still have makeup on your face."

"What?!" Miku's hands flew to her cheeks, but no matter how hard she rubbed, she wasn't getting the mascara off; not that she could see where it was, anyway. "You let me walk around like this for—"

"Here. I can clean it off for you," Luka offered, lifting the sponge.

"Now way! I don't want your hands on me," Miku spat. "Not after you slapped me."

"I'm…" She sighed. "I'm just trying to establish a little trust. We shouldn't have to be afraid of each other."

Miku seethed for a moment. "Do you have a mirror?"

Luka's eyes darted to the storage compartment. "No."

"Fine, then. But if you hurt me, even a little—"

"I'm requesting the same. No squirming, no biting. Just a little bit of basic hygiene."

Miku rolled her eyes, but acquiesced. "You better watch it," she grumbled. "I bruise easily."

"Okay."

She moved her legs under her, closed her eyes, then stood perfectly still.

Luka quietly gulped, then drew near, sponge lifted. As carefully as she could, she dabbed one cheek with the sponge. After repeating that a few times, rubbing cautiously, the mascara started to lift.

"So we need to learn how to work together," Luka went on, her tone level, barely above a whisper. "We need to see eye to eye if we're going to see this through.

"So, what, we're going to be best friends, now?" Miku said through barely moving lips.

"Not necessarily. But I need to show you how all these things work, so you don't depend on me so much. We need to make some rules, so we don't get on each other's nerves."

"Like what?"

Luka shrugged, then continued carefully cleaning Miku's face. "I don't know. No bossing each other around might be a good start. We're on equal footing here. We're both just as mortal, no matter who was working for who."

Miku stayed quiet for a moment, during which Luka changed cheek. "I suppose that's true."

"And maybe some rules for, uhm, bathroom etiquette."

"I just go when you're asleep."

"Oh. Likewise."

"Having, like, zero drinking water makes it easy," Miku said with a huff.

"I suppose, but I doubt our luck will continue. We don't have a lot of space to ourselves right now. Whether we like it or not, we're very much in each other's business."

"Like you are right now."

Luka dared chuckle a little at that. At that point, most of the mascara was gone. The worst of it, however, was still around Miku's eyes.

Miku sighed. "I don't like this conversation."

"Neither do I, but it's one we have to have."

"Ugh. Fine."

"I need to clean around your eyes," Luka said. "Do you trust me?"

Miku opened her eyes just slightly to look at her. Then, moments later, her eyes drifted shut again, and she said, "I suppose so. I have no other choice."

Luka reached forward with the sponge and delicately dabbed at the tender skin of Miku's eyelids, taking in the woman's face as she worked: the curves of her cheekbones, the slight swell of her chin, the length of her eyelashes.

With a gulp, Luka refocused on the task at hand, cleaning away the mascara with utmost care.

"I also propose no name-calling," she said, her voice a little hoarse. "We'll call each other by our real names."

Miku frowned. "Fine."

"Okay. So—"

"What's your name?"

Luka paused, lifting the sponge. "What?"

"Your name. I don't know it."

"You don't know my name?"

"No."

Luka almost leaned on her bad arm out of sheer bewilderment. "But I've been flying for you for almost a year now."

The younger woman shrugged. Her eyes stayed closed, waiting. "I just have you on my phone as 'My Pilot'. I guess my dad told me your name at some point, but I totally forgot."

"My name is Luka Megurine."

"Miku. Pleased to meet you."

Luka nodded and continued her work, now dabbing at the other eye. "Likewise."

"Okay, so, the names are done. Now what?"

"Well, we need personal space," Luka said. "How about we each have half of the raft?"

"Works for me."

"Okay. I'll finish this, then…" As Luka talked, she dabbed the last of the mascara from Miku's eyelid. "There we go. All done."

Miku blinked, then rubbed her eyes. "Thank goodness."

Luka pushed the rations over. "There. Now it's in the middle."

Miku raised a brow. "What's wrong with your arm?"

"I injured it. I don't know what's wrong, exactly."

"Hmm." Miku sniffed, rubbing her eye again. "So I go to the bathroom in the evening."

"I go in the morning."

"That works." Miku looked out towards the door. "What else?"

"Let me show you how the desalinator works. But you need to put on a life jacket."

"No way. I'm not putting that clunky thing on."

Luka sighed. "So you're all right with me being entirely responsible for the water?"

"Sure."

"I could steal a sip."

Miku sneered. "No you wouldn't. You're too much of a stickler for the rules. You'll give me my fair share."

"Fine. Come here, I'll show you how the radio works."

They spent the next hour or so going over every piece of equipment on the raft, except for those that needed to be used outside, exposed to the open ocean. Then the items were divided equally to make sure Miku had fair access without invading Luka's space. Luka then proposed a game, offering to make playing cards, or a round of tic-tac-toe, but the younger woman waved her bonding efforts away, retreating to her corner to resume combing her hair.

Luka didn't offer her help this time, returning outside to stay on the lookout for rescue. After a bit of calm, she opened her notebook again.

Dear Meiko,

Things are getting better. I think Miku and I are on level ground for once. Her knowing my name is a good start for that. So yeah, we might make it through without making each other go insane.

She lifted her eyes to scan the horizon. When she saw nothing, she returned to her notebook.

The weirdest thing happened, too. I was looking for things to draw this morning, and on a raft with two people, there aren't a lot of subjects. So I started drawing her. And I realized that she's actually really pretty, in a handsome sort of way. She's not like a tomboy or anything. I don't know if I ever properly described her to you. Her looks never really mattered though, did they? But she has this—

Luka scanned the horizon again, but absent-mindedly.

—princely air about her. I thought it was because I was finally seeing her at peace, not wanting anything, without all her flighty desires. She was just a person sleeping, a human being who was kind of pretty. I didn't give it much thought, though, expecting the realization to go away when she woke up. Thing is, it didn't. Later, I get back in the raft canopy and there she's sitting, looking almost beautiful, if it weren't for her tangled hair, makeup-smeared face, and less-nasty-than-usual-but-still-unpleasant attitude. And then we almost had a normal conversation, too. And I cleaned the mascara from her face. Now, she's as beautiful as I ever saw her, and neither of us have been in civilization for days. Crazy. I'm seeing a whole new side of her. Cliché, but what can I do?

Luka looked over the horizon again, yet again finding nobody and nothing. Her pencil hovered over the page, but she changed her mind, flipping back a few pages to the start of her latest letter, then another few pages to the previous letter, and then another, to her portrait of Miku.

Luka swallowed hard. Perhaps her portrait embellished Miku slightly, but there was no verifying that now. It was a beautifully captured moment of a young woman sleeping, totally at peace, disconnected from the world, with no worry whatsoever.

Luka closed her notebook and pocketed it. She stretched, stretching her legs in particular, getting some mobility back in her knee. She almost stood, then decided against it, shaking her head; the raft had wobbled under her feet.

"Are you going to be out there long?" a voice called from inside the canopy.

"A few hours."

"Okay."

Miku didn't say anything else, and Luka didn't ask. She sat there, watching, waiting, for hours.

However long the wait would be, it wasn't going to be fun.