Mako tilts her head back to catch as much sun as she can, eyes shut in complete, tranquil bliss. She misses the coast with its continuous backdrop of crashing waves, the smell of steel and salt, the cold gray-blue spectrum and the hammering of wind and rain on rock. But she has missed green too.

She flexes her toes delightedly in the cool green water of garden pool beside which she found herself, reveling in the texture of water against skin. Her shoes she has perched beside her in in a neat line by her hip, her weight on her arms as she supports herself with the pressure of palms to smooth stone walkway.

Mako laughs once, a low, clear sound, and the memory is tinged with melancholy when it skates the fringes of her conscious mind, but for a moment she is lost in the sheer joy of remembering the ease of her life in Tanegashima. For now, it is not so bad. She will take it.