The recording flickers to life, casting a soft blue glow over the lab. Okoye’s laughter- her real laughter- fills the space, rich and unguarded. There’s no weight of duty in her voice, no sharp edges of war. Just pure, unrestrained joy.

Shuri watches you carefully as you listen, your expression caught between fondness and grief. The sound is familiar, yet distant, something once frequent, now stolen by years of battle and sacrifice.

“She used to laugh like that all the time,” Shuri murmurs, her voice quiet. “Before the world took it from her.”

Silence lingers between you, the weight of memory pressing down. And then, resolve sets in.

You will hear her laugh like that again. Truly laugh. Not the small, indulgent chuckles she allows herself now, but the kind that shakes her shoulders, that makes her eyes crinkle, that reminds you of who she was before duty forced her to hardened her heart.

Shuri smiles when she spies that look on your face. "She isn't ticklish," she quips, "I've tried that."