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Kua’kua still didn’t really understand Earthling money, though she was beginning to grasp the point of it, if nothing else - it was exchanged for goods and services. More was better. Having none was bad. While she did not have a job in her civilian life - she didn’t even know where to start in getting one of those, never mind the questions that would inevitably arise that she would be unable to answer - a civilian she had saved from a Youma a few nights prior had insisted on paying her. He’d seemed genuinely upset over not shoving some wrinkled, rectangular, green-gray papers into her hand, so she’d let him, even though she had tried to explain to him that she not only didn’t understand money, she didn’t have a need for it. She understood it was a kind gesture, one of appreciation if nothing else, so she kept it, even though it made her deeply sad in some way that some humans did not know any way else to express themselves than through the giving and receiving of money.

But she did have the money, and that meant she could, maybe, spend it. On what, she wasn’t quite sure, but for the first time, she allowed herself to wander down the busy streets of Destiny City in her civilian guise, peering with wide golden eyes up at the vendors selling their wares. There was so much to choose from, Kalani was starting to feel overwhelmed. She was just about to decide to turn back home, when–

A familiar scent caught her nose.

But that was impossible, she thought to herself, frozen stock-still on the street, oblivious to the bumps and annoyed mutterings from passing pedestrians. It was impossible that she smell something familiar, because the only things she was familiar with were Kuanian, and she was the only Kuanian left. She was fully on another planet. It was impossible for something to smell like home, because her home was so thoroughly dead that nothing and no one but Kalani herself could have come from it.

And still, a crazy burst of hope shot like lightning through her body, jolting her forward. If she’d been able to survive, if her planet had kept her safe all these years, maybe it had kept someone else alive. Maybe she wasn’t alone, maybe–

Kalani shoved through the crowd with more force and vigor than she meant to, but she barely even noticed. If there was another Kuanian here, on Earth, somehow, then she needed to find them, immediately–

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she wove her way through the crowds, following her nose to the smell. There was no way, but if there was--

Kalani came to a sharp halt in front of a food stall, staring blankly at the hand-written menu. She still couldn’t read English, though she could speak it somewhat fluently, if not with complete mastery. So the words on the menu meant nothing to her, but the smell–it was making her eyes water, though that could have, genuinely, been tears forming in her eyes.

It was possible that one of the people puttering around behind the counter–that they were–that she wasn’t alone--

“Talafa???” Kalani said, the native Kuanian word sliding out as easy as breathing. “Maopopo iaʻu??” Kalani said, more desperate and intense than perhaps she had ever been in her life. Hello? Do you understand me? She prayed for some kind of recognition in the eyes of the civilians behind the counter, scanning each of their faces minutely, every inch, for deception or recognition, fear or understanding.

She found nothing but blank confusion.

“What?” the nearest man behind the counter said. “Do you want to order somethin’?”

Kalani didn’t think it was possible for her heart, already badly broken by the death of her planet, to shatter any further - but in that moment, she found that she was wrong. The only thing worse than being hopeless, it turned out, was having one crazy moment of explosive hope, and having that hope let down and crushed beneath the boot of an uncaring universe.

Kalani wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks before they could freeze there.

She never should have come out. She never should have done any of this.

Kalani sniffled, and a woman behind the counter took pity on her and handed her a couple of napkins, to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. As she did, the scent - the smell that had brought her to this stand in the first place - wafted back to her, and Kalani frowned in confusion. If there were no Kuanians here, then how…?

Kalani looked away from the concerned vendors and instead looked to the sample plates of food perched on the edge of the counter. She scanned each of them, almost doing a double-take as she noticed–recognized--the second platter on display.

She couldn’t remember English right now, with her heart aching in her chest, so she just pointed. The man behind the counter nodded, and when Kalani tried to hand the woman the money the civilian had given her earlier for rescuing him, the woman just tutted and shook her head, gently folding Kalani’s hand back over the paper.

Money made even less sense than she thought it did. She was almost positive that this was what she was supposed to do - money for goods and services, like food. She tried to insist, but the woman just shook her head again.

“Don’t you worry about that,” the woman said, so kindly, as her husband began preparing Kalani’s meal behind her. Already, the scent was rising up and Kalani would have sworn–sworn--that she was not standing on Earth but was instead back on Kua’kua, before the Chaos came.

“Thank you,” Kalani said, a little bit brokenly, because this was so kind. The woman just gave her a smile and a nod and hustled off to help the next person in line, and Kalani stepped aside to wait. She in fact saw other people exchange money for a meal, and was further touched by the woman’s gesture. She peered, curiously, at the man and the food he was preparing, trying to catch a glimpse of what it actually was, but he moved too quickly for her to tell. It was impossible for these random humans to have access to native Kuanian food, but…

But still, when the man set the platter down and pointed across the street to a small tent with space heaters and picnic tables, Kalani knew–she just knew--that this was not a dish that originated on Earth.

In stunned silence, Kalani took the plate (which had been helpfully covered against the cold wind) across the street and found a picnic table to sit at. She carefully uncovered the plate and the full aroma wafted up to her once again, and this time, she didn’t try to stop the tears. If anyone thought there was anything strange about the girl sobbing over a plate of delicious home-made food, no one said anything about it, for which Kalani would later be very, very grateful.

She was shaking when she picked up the fork. She was almost terrified to actually taste it - she wasn’t sure if it would be worse if it didn’t taste like home or if it did. Either way it might break her heart. But she’d gotten it, and it was waiting, and Kalani wouldn’t let good food, given to her in kindness, go to waste.

She took a bite.

A full-body shiver ran through her, and Kalani kept her eyes closed. As the flavors moved over her tongue, Kalani was transported, in all ways but physical. For the first time in probably over two hundred years, her memories of home, of the beforetimes, were shown in crystal clarity, like someone had scrubbed centuries of grime from some kind of mental camera lens.

She saw herself, when she was barely more than a grub, sitting with her family - her whole family, her brothers and sisters and all of their shared adults - on the beach, sitting near the sea, the smell of the ocean’s cresting waves mixing with the copious containers of food.

Food just like that which she was eating, right there, on planet Earth, however many millions of lightyears away. It couldn’t be the same fish, the same vegetables, the same seaweed - but it was. It wasn’t bad at all that it was just like Kuanian food: it was perfect. It was a miracle.

For the first time in so long, she could remember their voices. Their words washed over her like a spring shower, as familiar and comforting to her as the sun after a thunderstorm, as easy as breathing.

She took another bite, eyes still closed.

She remembered a time - later, but still, before the Chaos came. She was older now; it must have been just after she emerged from her cocoon, just after she had been awoken as the new Sailor Kua’kua. She remembered being sat in the place of honor among her family, and the huge feast they had prepared in her honor.

Kalani could remember their faces as clearly as if they were standing in front of her. She almost felt she could reach out and touch them. Only barely did she manage to keep her hands to herself; if someone interrupted her to ask what she was doing, she did not think she would be in control of her actions. No one could ruin this for her - she wouldn’t allow it.

She remembered hands on her shoulders, hands tucking hair behind her ears, hands smoothing the fabric of her fuku. She remembered voices, chattering to her, in their sing-song language, excited–

She remembered their eyes. Kalani remembered–Kalani knew, for the first time since Chaos had come to her planet–

Her family had been so proud of her. They’d honored her, and believed she had honored them, by being chosen as the next Sailor Kua’kua. They had watched her take on the title, the responsibilities; they had cheered for her, helped her when they could. They supported her as she took on the role she now held, the role that had kept her alive and sent her to Earth.

With the third bite of food, Kalani remembered, fiercely and suddenly: her family had loved her. They had loved her, so deeply. She had been so loved, and had loved them in return. It hadn’t been enough to save them - would that love were enough to protect against evil, chaos and all manner of mishap - but it had been real, and true. She had loved them, and they had loved her, and that had been everything. That was all that had mattered; maybe it was all that still mattered.

She knew, as she continued eating, with the bone-deep certainty of a child in its mothers arms, that even in the end - they hadn’t blamed her. They weren’t ghosts haunting her, seeking vengeance for her failure, sending their disappointment to n** at her heels, all these centuries later.

They wouldn’t do that. Because they had loved her, completely, and she had loved them the same. Love hadn’t been enough - but it had been. And that…mattered. In a world where she was now a stranger, in a world in which she was alone, in a world where she might never step foot on her home planet again…

The memories, the good ones, the ones buried under years of pointless fighting and so many losses…

The memories were what mattered. The love was what mattered. The love lingered long after, and as long as Kalani remembered it, the love could not die in a way that mattered.

By the time Kalani finished the platter of food and stumbled in a daze back across the street - for another serving, or maybe just for answers, she wasn’t sure - the vendors were gone. They had closed for the day, taken in their menus and pulled down the gate on their window. All the decorations, which she realized had also been something like familiar, almost but not quite Kuanian in style, were gone as well. It was a completely blank little stall, bearing no evidence whatsoever of the experience Kalani had just had.

Kalani looked up and down the street, as if she might see the man and woman who had served her earlier, lurking in an alley or maybe hauling their things to polluting, smoggy ‘cars’ everyone on Earth insisted on driving.

But they were nowhere to be found. She hadn’t even gotten their names, or the name of the restaurant, or–or anything. It was like they had vanished absolutely into thin air.

Well. So they were gone. They had given her an incredible gift - maybe it was greedy to wish for more, even if all she wanted to do was thank them in person.

She would have to thank their spirits instead.

“Padėka,” Kalani murmured, dropping her head slightly in the moment of deep appreciation. She had a feeling she would never see the pair again - she could only hope that they would know, somehow, of the incredible gift they had given her, and how grateful she was. The sadness at not being able to get her questions answered - or express directly how she felt - was only a slight damper, though, and the warmth that Kalani carried with her lasted so much longer than just the rest of the day.

Sure, the memories were fading again, but not as faded as they once had been - she could remember herself remembering them, after all, and that kept them nearer to the surface, further away from the muck and the grime of being trapped on a dead planet for so many years.

The next time someone asked about her family, she would actually be able to answer them. More than that, though - the knowledge the memories had given her, undeniable proof that she had not always been alone, that she had had people who cared for and about her, that those people loved her so much…there was no way they had harbored any anger toward her, in the end. They loved her. They knew her. They had faith in her abilities - and she had more reason than ever before to show them (or their spirits, or whatever part of them still existed after Chaos took away their will and their individuality) that their faith was not misplaced.

She would see Kua’kua again. She would restore it, somehow. With the aid of many others. It was what she owed to them - to her family, who had died so long ago, but still lived, somewhere, in the forgotten corners of Kalani’s own heart.

She would do it for them. Somehow, someday, it would be done.