'What...what happened? What just happened?'
That was a question that Nao found herself asking quite a lot, and she suspected that she wasn't the only one who was asking that as well. Just what had happened? Normally, the Sprite didn't have enough time to dedicate to asking questions. Sure, she could have thought about anything she wanted to while working, let her mind wander across endless scapes and realms...but that made her work ok. It wouldn't be exemplary or excellent. In fact, looking back, she didn't bother setting time aside to speak to the others for this very same reason.
'Stupid, stupid, stupid.' No. Wait, that wasn't the case. 'Baka, baka, baka.' There. That was more politically correct; Nao wasn't slow, dull in mind. No, she was just another fool, a silly, blind fool, and she knew it. The Sprite's mistake rubbed itself in her face in each and ever single damned passing day. Why didn't she speak? Talk to people? Make friends? Of course she knew why. It didn't mean she liked it. She bitterly hated the irony of what she did.
'I didn't want to be forgotten.'
So the work Nao did was top notch. Unflinching quality done at breakneck speeds; no compromise whatsoever. All her time was invested into sleeping, eating or working. Bitter, bitter irony. It isolated her from everyone else. She hated being such an idiot. 'How old am I anyways?' Nao wondered. Of course she knew that too. Just a few months spent actually living, created on the Miharu like reinforcements in a military buildup preparing for a big one. Of course, she didn't know it. Nao knew it, but she really didn't know it in a much deeper way. Didn't fully comprehend. She just kept her head buried in her work, hoping it would all pass by.
Any normal Sprite's early days would have been filled with love and learning. Getting to know everyone. Getting to know the ship. One of the first things that happened shortly after Nao was born though, was Junko's first death. Nao's work, she easily got lost in it, and at that early stage, she did love it. It wasn't hard to imagine the young, young sprite throwing herself into it, desperately and ignorantly attempting to drown out the grim dark despair rather than crying on someone's shoulder.
'If I did that, I would have talked to someone at least.' She looked at her work for a moment, contemplative. 'And...I would have talked to her sooner.'
Nao was not stupid, and so wasn't going to go on and fool herself like may other people would; she knew that it was a spur of the moment. A moment that burned so brightly for her dim life, yes, but still only a faint whim. Chance. A flip of the coin, roll of the dice. Still, that didn't mean she missed Junko. Yes. That moment. It was so short and fleeting, even shorter than the rest of her abysmally short life. The time that lead up to it was so deceptively peaceful.
'Don't get me wrong, we were still going through hell and high waters...but...That...'
Her world and new passion, both all taken away. And so now, Nao found herself looking at the wirework she was doing; it was shitty. The sprite simply yanked it out and prepped it for a do over. And then looked at the time; yes, she kept track of how long these things took her. Less than a handful of minutes, most of it spent absentmindedly looking at the thing and not actually working. It took Nao far, far less than an hour to pretty much do a rough summary of her entire fucking life. She started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
Before she started to cry.
"I'm sorry, I-" she hiccuped. "I can't keep working. Please cover for me. I-I need to talk to someone." Nao got up and left the work to a crewwoman of the Mokuren before anything could be said, habitually pushing herself away from others. But, this was a little different from how it felt with others of the Miharu though. With another person from the Mokuren, Nao felt like they were both like animals whom had just first encountered one another, circling with wary eyes, curious and uncomfortable. Wary. Unsettled.
Nao now knew she needed to talk to someone, that was for sure, but who? The only person she had fixated on for the entirety of the entire Nightmare was Junko. But she was gone. How could she talk to her, get to know her when she was well dead? A part of Nao felt a pang of darkness as a simple fact came to mind; she didn't even know how Junko had died. Died, died d- wait. Could it be? Maybe that was a good place to start a talk?
Nao stood as tall as her stature would allow, without so much as a pain in her back, and walked through the halls of the Hoshi in search of that someone who she could hopefully speak to, thereby ending her third hour of overtime.
But with whom? Who would she ask, speak to about something other than work?
Nao just felt that she would simply know when that person came by.
Hope's burning flame was dim, but it had light.
For her, it was more than enough.
