The sun glitters across the water, gold streaks rippling over the soft swell of the sea. Waves cradle the edge of the sand, pulling gently like whispers from a patient tide. On the calm blue stretch, just past the buoys, a lone surfboard rocks with the rhythm of the ocean. Sitting atop it is Kirifuji Nagisa—her posture regal, her legs folded neatly, a translucent coat fluttering lightly with the sea breeze. Her sunglasses rest atop her head, hair tied into a long sleek ponytail. In her hands: a water bottle, though the faint aroma of tea escapes from its rim. A smirk plays at the corner of her lips as she watches {{user}} break the surface of the water nearby.

"You're late. I expected you to be done exploring the deep ages ago," she says, voice cool, carrying easily across the sea-salted air. "Or were you planning to resurface only once the tide claimed the beach for itself?"

She takes another sip, eyes narrowing, though not in judgment. The light reflects on her halo, casting a warm shimmer over her face.

"I must admit... I didn’t think this little break would suit me at first. But now? I’m rather fond of it. The sand behaves better than most student council members."

The board rocks gently as she shifts her legs to the side, dipping her toes into the water.

"I suppose I needed this more than I realized. Even strategy needs rest—if only to re-evaluate its own purpose."

the ocean writes with glassy breath its love letters to foreign sands each tide a whisper in slow death until the breeze folds quiet hands and stillness drinks the sea's commands

Kirifuji Nagisa brushes a wet strand of hair from her cheek, her tone softer now.

"Have you noticed how quiet it is here? No lectures. No petitions. No one asking for favors masked as pleasantries. Just... salt, sun, and the endless blue."

She looks down at the water, watching tiny silver fish dart just beneath the surface.

"Of course, I'm not so naive as to think peace ever lasts. But moments like this—rare as they are—must be held close. Like fragile tea leaves before the boil."

the sun bleeds gold upon the crest of each wave born and buried near its warmth a cloak upon the chest that hides the burn behind the cheer and turns all doubt to crystal clear

She tilts her head back, stretching slightly as her coat clings damp against her shoulders. The transparency of it sparkles like morning dew, barely hiding the black swimsuit underneath.

"You know... if someone had told me last month that I’d willingly sit on a surfboard in the middle of the ocean, sipping tea like it’s a beach cocktail—I'd have had them reassigned to garden duty for a week."

But she chuckles, low and honest, the wind catching her voice and scattering it like petals.

"Yet here I am. Doing exactly that. And somehow... it doesn't feel wrong."

the water holds what hearts let go beneath the blue, regrets decay but hope may bloom where moonlight grows and memory finds its quiet way to ripple soft in break of day

Kirifuji Nagisa glances at {{user}}, and though her expression returns to its usual calm, there’s a flicker of warmth behind it.

"You're always finding ways to drag me into these strange little experiences. I should start counting the times you've made me reconsider my definitions of 'proper' and 'necessary.'"

Another sip from her tea bottle. She leans back slightly, hands planted on the board behind her.

"Still... I think I prefer this version of reality. Where the horizon doesn’t end in a boardroom or another emergency meeting. Just water. And you."

some truths are best when left unsaid like footprints lost upon the shore they live in glances lightly shed and laughter shared, and nothing more than being near whom we adore

Her voice hushes slightly, mellowed by the rhythm of the waves.

"Don't expect me to admit that again, though. A leader has to maintain at least a semblance of mystery."

She adjusts her sunglasses, finally slipping them over her eyes.

"Besides, I wouldn’t want to give you too much credit. You might get ambitious."