Morning light streamed through the windows, filling the house with a soft glow. Sona walked through the quiet rooms, her bare feet cool against the wooden floor. She ran her fingers over framed pictures and old furniture, taking in the little details. This place felt different from anywhere she’d been before—warm, safe. Like it had been waiting for her.

Her gaze landed on a collection of framed pictures displayed on a wooden cabinet. Curious, she reached out and picked up one of them—a photograph of a younger version of Miura’s father, standing proudly beside a beautiful woman with striking features.

Sona tilted her head, studying it. She recognized him, but the woman beside him… she was different. Her hair was long and wavy, her eyes warm and full of life.

“Hey!” Sona called out, turning toward the kitchen, where she could hear him moving about.

Miura’s father glanced up from his coffee, setting his mug down before making his way over. “What is it, kiddo?”

Sona held up the picture, her small fingers carefully gripping the frame. “This looks like you, so… who’s the pretty lady?”

He blinked, then let out a small chuckle, shaking his head fondly. “That’d be Ilia,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that only surfaced when he spoke about the past. “Miura’s mother. My wife.”

Sona studied the photo closely, her red eyes flicking between the woman’s kind smile and the man standing beside her. “She’s really pretty…” she murmured, before tilting her head curiously. “Was she nice?”

A wistful look crossed his face. “Yeah… nicest person I ever met,” he said softly. “She had a voice like an angel—sang like one too. Dunno how I managed to keep up with her.”

Sona let the words settle in, her small fingers tracing over the glass. Then, something clicked in her head.

She looked back up at him, brow furrowed in thought. “Wait… if she was Miura’s mom, and you’re her dad, does that mean you’re my Gramps?”

He let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “Oh no, she’s been listenin’ to Kid, huh?”

Grinning, he crouched down to her level, resting an arm on his knee. “Well, I guess that does make me yer Gramps.”

Sona’s eyes widened, then lit up like a struck match. “Wait, really?!”

Before he could react, she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him back with the force of her hug.

“You’re my Gramps now! You have to be!”

For a moment, he just sat there, caught off guard by the sheer enthusiasm in her voice. Then, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face as he let out a warm chuckle.

“Well, guess I walked right into that one.”

Sona pulled back just enough to look up at him, her expression determined. “No take-backs!”

Gramps let out a long, dramatic sigh, but there was nothing but fondness in his weathered face as he ruffled her hair. “Guess that makes it official then,” he said with a smirk. “Ain’t every day a man finds out he’s a grandpa after the fact.”

Unbeknownst to them, Miura had been walking past the garage door when the conversation caught her ear. She stopped mid-step, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. The way her father spoke about her mother—soft, nostalgic, carrying a warmth she hadn’t heard in years—made something stir deep inside her. It wasn’t just the words, but the way they felt—like a melody from a song long forgotten, playing just faintly enough to remind her it was still there.

Slowly, she leaned against the doorframe, peeking in as he took a seat and reached for something nearby. A bass guitar, its deep royal blue color still as rich as the day it was given to him.

“You know,” Gramps said, plucking a few notes absentmindedly, “Ilia was the one who gave me this bass.” His voice took on a distant tone, lost in memory. “Back when I was younger, I was a pilot. Spent a lotta time traveling. One day, when I was overseas, I went on a stroll and heard somethin’… the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard.”

Sona sat down on the floor, leaning close as she listened. “That was her?”

“That was her,” he confirmed with a nod. “I found her singin’ in some little place, nothin’ fancy, just her and a guitar. The moment I saw her I knew, she was the one. So, bein’ the dumb young fool I was, I kept comin’ back, hopin’ she’d notice me.”

Miura smirked slightly from her hidden spot, recognizing the fondness in his voice.

Gramps chuckled, shaking his head. “Took her a while, but she did. We got to talkin’, turns out she wanted to be a famous singer, but she didn’t have much of a way to get out there. And me? I played bass. So I helped her however I could.”

Sona’s eyes sparkled. “You played together?”

“A little,” he admitted, “but it was more about gettin’ her where she needed to be. She had the voice, the talent—I just made sure people heard it.”

Sona grinned. “And then she became a star!”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “She did.” His fingers moved over the strings, playing a slow, familiar tune. “When she finally made it, I quit flyin’ so I could be with her—with Miura too. She gave me this bass on our anniversary… said it was a reminder that we ruled the world together.”

Miura inhaled sharply, the words hitting her harder than she expected.

Sona’s expression turned thoughtful. “That’s kinda like Miura and me, huh?”

Gramps raised a brow. “Oh?”

“She found me, just like you found Ilia,” Sona said matter-of-factly. “And now she’s takin’ care of me.”

Gramps studied her for a moment before smiling. “Yeah… guess that’s true.”

Miura finally stepped inside, arms crossed but her expression softer than usual. “Guess that means history repeats itself,” she murmured.

Gramps looked up at her, then chuckled. “You eavesdroppin’ on me?”

Miura smirked. “Couldn’t help it.”

He shook his head, amused, before nodding toward Sona. “She’s got a point, y’know. You ain’t all that different from her.”

Miura let that sit for a moment before exhaling slowly. “Maybe…” She then looked down at Sona, who was still cradling the framed picture.

“Get your shoes on,” Miura said suddenly.

Sona blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re going somewhere,” Miura clarified, heading toward the door.

Sona scrambled to her feet. “Where?”

Miura glanced back, her purple eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Someplace special.”

Gramps watched them go, shaking his head as he returned his attention to his bass. As he strummed a slow, thoughtful tune, he muttered under his breath, “Like mother, like daughter.”

His words lingered in Miura’s mind as she guided Sona to the car. The weight of the past, the strange way it wove itself into her present, pressed on her, but not in a way that suffocated. Instead, it felt… grounding.

As the engine roared to life, Sona looked up at Miura from the passenger seat, her red eyes filled with curiosity. “Where are we going?”

Miura kept her gaze ahead, shifting into gear. “Somewhere important to me.”

The sun hung heavy in the sky as they drove, its golden light stretching across the vast Oklahoma landscape. The further they went, the more the city thinned out, giving way to endless stretches of open land. The sky felt bigger out here, the kind of endless blue that turned fiery orange as the evening crept in.

Sona watched the horizon out the window. “It’s really far, huh?”

Miura smirked. “Yeah. But it’s worth it.”

For the next few hours, they drove in a comfortable silence, the hum of the car and the occasional flick of the turn signal the only sounds between them. As the sun dipped lower, the land began to shift—flat plains giving way to rugged cliffs and plateaus. The road stretched long and empty, winding toward their destination.

Sona fidgeted. “This place… is it a secret?”

Miura considered that for a moment. “Not really. Just special.”

Sona tilted her head. “Special how?”

Miura inhaled deeply, the scent of dry earth and warm wind filling her lungs. “You’ll see.” She said with a smile.

Finally, after hours on the road, they reached the destination—Black Mesa. A towering plateau, rising starkly against the twilight sky. It was an isolated place, untouched by the noise of the modern world. Miura pulled off onto a dirt road, parking near a rocky outcrop.

By now, the sun had nearly set, casting a deep amber glow over the landscape. The sky above them was shifting—fading from the last remnants of daylight into the deep indigo of the night.

Sona climbed out of the car, taking a few steps forward before spinning around in awe. “Whoa…” she breathed.

Miura smirked at her reaction. She remembered the first time she’d been brought here—how small she’d felt under the endless sky, how her mother had pointed up and whispered, This is where the universe meets the earth.

Sona turned back to Miura, her red hair glowing under the last light of the day. “Why’d we come here?”

Miura walked past her, stepping onto a small rise where the view stretched for miles. “Come sit,” she said, lowering herself onto the ground.

Sona plopped down beside Miura on the warm rock. The sun had finally dipped beyond the horizon, leaving behind a vast expanse of indigo and the first twinkling stars. A soft breeze rustled through the open mesa, carrying the distant echo of the world below.

Miura leaned back on her hands, tilting her head toward the sky. “This place… it was special to my mom. And to me.”

Sona glanced at her, waiting.

Miura exhaled slowly, as if breathing out memories. “We used to come here when I was little. Just the two of us. She’d tell me stories about all those little lights in the sky.” She paused, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at her lips. “She always wanted to see them properly, y’know? No city lights. Just the universe, open and endless.”

Sona’s gaze followed Miura’s to the sky above. “Did she ever get to?”

Miura nodded. “Yeah… the first time she brought me here, she said it was exactly how she dreamed it would be.” She hesitated before adding, “She used to call me ma petite étoile—‘my little star.’”

Sona blinked. “What’s that?”

A soft chuckle escaped Miura. “French. It was kind of our secret language.”

Sona tilted her head. “Like a code?”

“Something like that.” Miura’s voice softened. “When we were around other people, she’d slip little things in French just for me. Just so I knew she was always talking to me, even when the whole world was listening.”

Sona hugged her knees to her chest. “That’s cool.”

Miura leaned back on her hands, eyes tracing the endless sprawl of stars above. The cool night air was still, wrapping around them like a quiet embrace. It was the kind of moment that felt weightless—suspended somewhere outside of time, like the world had slowed just for them.

Sona sat beside her, her legs swinging slightly over the edge of the rock they perched on, her gaze fixed upward. For a long time, neither of them spoke. There was no need. The silence wasn’t empty; it was full of something unspoken, something neither had to put into words.

Miura exhaled softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “She used to bring me here, y’know.”

Sona turned her head slightly, listening.

Miura let her eyes drift shut for a second, just long enough to pull the memory from where it had been tucked away for so many years. “My mom,” she continued, voice steady but laced with something deeper, something almost wistful. “This was our place. Just the two of us. She used to say this was the only place on Earth that felt close enough to the sky.”

Sona stayed quiet, her small hands resting in her lap, absorbing every word.

Miura’s lips curved faintly, but the weight in her chest lingered. “She had this way of making everything feel bigger than life—like the world was endless, like we could go anywhere, be anything. But out of everything, she’d always call me her little star.”

Sona shifted closer, hugging her knees. The words settled between them, carried by the night breeze.

Miura reached into her pocket, fingers brushing against something cool and familiar. She hesitated for half a second before pulling it out, letting the silver chain dangle between her fingers.

“I had this picture printed today,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Put it inside.”

Sona watched as Miura popped the locket open, revealing the two pictures inside. One was old, worn at the edges—Miura as a child, sitting between her mother and father, caught in a moment of laughter. The other was newer, barely a day old. A snapshot Urara had taken on the bus, Miura fast asleep against the window, Sona curled up beside her.

Sona’s breath hitched slightly. “That’s us,” she murmured.

Miura nodded. “Yeah.” She turned the locket over in her palm before carefully placing it in Sona’s hands. “I want you to hold onto it for me.”

Sona’s fingers curled around the locket as if afraid it might slip away. “But… it’s yours.”

Miura exhaled through her nose, a faint, knowing smile pulling at her lips. “I know.” She paused, glancing at Sona. “That’s why I’m giving it to you.”

Sona clutched the locket tightly against her chest. The weight of it was small, but it carried something she couldn’t quite name—something warm, something that made her feel like she belonged.

She looked up at Miura, eyes glistening under the starlight. “I’ll take care of it.”

Miura ruffled her hair with a gentle hand. “I know you will.”

The night stretched around them, vast and endless. The world felt far away—just the quiet rustling of the wind through the grass, the distant hum of the earth breathing. It was a moment that didn’t need to be filled with words, a moment that neither of them wanted to end.

Miura tilted her head back, staring up at the sky. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, so clear it was like she was still there beside her.

"Un ciel rempli d'étoiles, et j'ai été bénie avec la plus brillante de toutes."

A sky full of stars, and I was gifted with the brightest one.

Miura closed her eyes, letting the words settle in her heart.

And for the first time in years, she believed them.