tokillaladybug:

You can read the rest of my contribution to AU Yeah August here.  

Summary: Nino reflects on his past lives and how many of them he spent chasing after Alya, even as she chased after her own dreams.

Bonus points to you if you can figure out all the different reincarnation time periods/events in history/cultures that were mentioned here. 

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It took Nino a long time to remember. Too long, he thinks.

But it’s taken Alya even longer. She still doesn’t remember. At least, he thinks she doesn’t.

He’s not sure when exactly it clicked into place. The memories never came flooding back in a tidal wave. Rather, they dripped into the deeper recesses of his mind like a cool spring rain. Each drop fit into place without disrupting the pond.

It was only when looking back that he realized he’s always known her, always loved her.

He could remember days walking along the banks of an old and vast river, where the cool breeze fluttered her hair. She had smiled and laughed as they walked with the plush grass under their toes. It was not the time, but she was a fiery spirit, and even then she defied the laws when they did not suit her.

There were days when she defied her role in life and pulled him along to new, bustling cities with architecture and technology and oh so many people. He could barely keep up with her then, but all the new, new, new things made her happy and he loved that. The way her eyes shone brightly with excitement made every struggle all the more worth it. They were still so young then.

She was furious when she helped create a society, only to have women pushed out of their rulings. She careened forward and fought for her voice to be heard, but even then, Nino had to help her out and teach her patience.

Not that he minded.

Then there were a lot of quiet days. Some were full of smiles, other full of tears. She focused on smaller things, but they didn’t keep her happy for long. They were put into harder lives, with less opportunity.

Then there was fire and sickness and death. He tries not to remember those times.

The next time he saw her happy was the day she held ink in her hands again, and this time it was reproducible. It was an equalizer. It was real. She saw all her dreams coming together in an instant, and from then on, he knew he’d be helping her chase the truth. She wanted to make sure everyone knew what she knew. He helped her read every piece of writing she could get her hands on, and her smile lit up the world to him.

Next was a quieter time. To her, it was a shock, from the ease of written language to a world without it. But this was more of a world for him, and she rested in the quiet just as he did. He took solace in the crisp mountain air, and she liked that she was equal again, and her voice could be heard. Those were some of his favorite memories.

After that were more memories that he chose to forget, full of smoke and fire and so much blood. She would remember those better, having lived much longer than he. She saw the reformation, the healing. He only ever saw the pain.

She ran off to the falling wall recently, feeling the need to be where the stories were. That’s never changed. He let her, thinking she would return soon, once it was over.

He didn’t think she’d never get the chance to come back.

He didn’t stay to find out what it was like without her.

And now they’re here, meeting so much younger than before. Hopefully, that means they have more time together. More time to laugh, more time to grow, more time for him to watch her try to rule the world again. She always does.

And she always rules his world.

But she doesn’t know that yet, he thinks. If she did, she’d tell him. She always says it as soon as she sees it, and then the memories crash into him all at once. This is better, he likes seeing the pieces fall into place in her mind slowly, as they did for him. And they will this time too, her truth-seeking won’t distract her for long.

He can wait. They have time. There will always be more time.