“Ouch, it’s burning!”

The midsummer nights that touched the beaches of this lonely coastline were breezy ones. Suna thought this made the beach the ideal place to rest, a stop to enjoy the wind, admire the ocean, and make dreams of their own for once. Above them, the sky housed only the moon, no stars to upstage Lady Tsuki tonight, not that they ever could.

“It will get cooler soon,” said the hovering Suna. “Sand can be very hot, Kumo. It may look harmless, but it can hurt.”

Kumo didn’t doubt her. He bounced on either foot, juggling the heat of the sand under the pads of his feet. Luckily for him, the summer scorch did die out, and a colder, seashore wind lived to replace it. In an instant, his predicament was reversed.

“Now I’m cold,” Kumo said.

Suna laughed despite herself. She had to acknowledge her growing tenderness for her new partner, and although his naivety tired her at times (just earlier he led them into the wrong kind of adult dream,) he was never a bore. He was, by far, the strangest spirit to have ever made her acquaintanceship.

She spoke, “we’ll sit under the palms. Resting is good for digestion, and you’ve eaten well in this town.”

Kumo was happy for the compliment. He thought of the dreams he had binged on earlier. Even though he knew virtually nothing of his new role, he was glad that, at least, he was doing what he was supposed to.

When their heads stopped below the leaves of the massive palms, the spirit bent down to observe a tiny crater dug into the sand.

“Wow, look! There’s something coming out of the ground.”

Suna, now expanding, lowered. She lay herself carefully over the Tapir’s head, forming a warm blanket and shielding him from the cool night.

“It’s a crab. Sand is it’s home,” she said.

“Oh, sand sure does a lot.” Kumo wondered if it was bigger on the inside, maybe there was a whole palace under there, one that neither of them knew about.

“Did you ever wish to be something other than a sandman,” asked Kumo.

Suna let the shore and its waves speak before she uttered a single word. For a couple of seconds, all that could be heard was the rush of the waves against the beach. Kumo felt Suna’s embrace grow loose.

“Maybe. I don’t remember. But I am happy being blessed sand.”

“Why? Why not be a blessed cloud spirit?”

“I’d be nowhere near the ground. Nowhere near you. Nowhere near life,” she replied.

“Being sand looks hard, Susu.”

“Susu?”

“It’s your new nickname. Like it?”

“Ah.” She hummed, satisfied. “It can be hard to be sand, but most of the time I feel purposeful. With enough sand, I can be anything. In some places, sand is all there is, and from it, people make homes.”

Kumo ran a hand over the ground underneath him. He’d noticed the forgotten sandcastles by the edge of the coast, slowly being washed away with every new tide. With enough patience, he thought he could build a sand home.

“Do you ever get scared of being swept away?”

To his question, she responded softly, tightening her embrace. “Just all things, sand doesn’t exist forever. But sometimes you can conserve a small remnant of it, like in an hourglass.”

The Tapir’s gaze turned serious.

“What is it?”

He frowned deeply. “You’re too big to fit in an hourglass.”

Suna burst into laughter once more, leaving a trickly of falling sand and giggles. Kumo didn’t know why she was laughing, as it was true, but he didn’t think of asking her. He really liked the sound of her happiness.

“Rest, Kumo, even if you don’t sleep. The sand will be here for you tomorrow.”

“Will you?”

Above them, the moon still watched, glowed, and casted a strip of light over the dark sea before them.

Suna withdrew her gaze from the sky.

“Of course.”

Fin ❤