Nya's Struggle

Nya hated mirrors.

No longer could she bear to see the sight of her own reflection. No longer could she handle what the mirrors showed her. Because they no longer showed just her. They showed it. That eye.

It was always the first thing she noticed too, not her hair, not the faint scars she had acquired over the years or the bags under her eyes from fitful sleep. That eye. Always.

She avoided them like the plague, stopped herself from looking into one whenever she could. While in the bathroom, she'd cover the mirror with a towel so she wouldn't accidently catch a glimpse when going by. When walking past polished glass or windows, she ducked her head and averted her gaze. Because everytime she saw it she wasn't seeing herself.

She was seeing her.

The Nya who wasn't Nya anymore.

The Nya who had merged with the sea. The Nya who had become one with the waves and the foam and the salt. The Nya who had allowed herself to be swallowed whole by the very element she alone was meant to have control over.

And if she looked long enough, if she let herself stare for too long, she swore she could feel it happening all over again. How the water flooded her lungs, her skin dissolving, her body giving way until she was just a current with no name, no voice, no family.

She couldn't bear that reminder. Couldn't bear the memories.

And normally she was careful. She was cautious. She was always alert, always on guard when around things that could reflect. She was always so so careful.

But today was different. Today she was tired. She was so so tired. Exhaustion was battling her will to keep her eyes open. But she refused to rest. She couldn't. Not yet. She had work to do still. Especially with the other ninja still locked up.

So when she walked into that bathroom, struggling to keep her eyes open and too tired to even think straight anymore, she forgot to cover up the mirror. She forgot. She forgot. And she couldn't hate herself more than she did in that moment. Because when washing off all the dirt and grime and oil that had accumulated on her hands over the course of the day while she was working on the mechs and vehicles, she made the mistake of looking up.

And she froze, her hands stilling as she stared as what the mirror now showed her. One eye looked at her as it always had - dark, warm brown, grounded. Normal. The other shimmered pale blue, like a captured drop of the ocean. She shifted and the light inside it caught, swirling as though alive.

Her breath hitched. Her stomach tightened. Her heart pounded. And as much as she wanted to, she couldn't seem to rip her gaze away.

She gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles going white as her jaw tightened.

"Why couldn't it have gone back to normal..?" She whispered to herself.

Because it hadn't. Because a part of her was still marked - like the sea had branded her as its own..

She hated it. She hated it. She hated it. On the rare occasion, maybe she could stop and think that it was beautiful, special even. Because it was in a way, if she could ignore the pain and suffering that was linked to it. But more often than not, she wanted nothing more to tear it out from her eye socket and stop the flood of memories that assaulted her whenever she looked at it.

Her breathing had become ragged and unsteady and her chest heaved. Her eyes burned as though the ocean itself was swirling around behind her eyelids as tears began threatening to spill over. She could feel it crawling through her veins again - the relentless tide, pulling, consuming. She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge the image from her mind as she choked on a barely contained sob. But it clung stubbornly, mocking her, torturing her.

" No.. no... go away. Please stop..." She manages to choke out, her voice trembling.

The pale blue shimmer of that cursed eye seemed to pierce right through her, unyielding, accusing. Her hands, still gripping the sink in that impossibly tight grip, trembled and shook.

And then, with a sudden feral motion, she punches the mirror, letting out a scream of pain and frustration. She punched it, again and again, again and again, until her knuckles bled and the mirror was nothing more than shattered shards scattered across the sink and floor.

Nya stumbled back and for a moment, the room was silent save for the sound of her ragged breathing and broken sobs.

Her legs gave out beneath her before she even realised it. She collapsed onto the cold tiles, shards biting into her palms, her knees, even her thighs but she didn't care. Every jagged edge felt like a tether to reality, grounding her in the physical when her mind threatened to drown again as she sobbed uncontrollably.

She curled slightly, arms wrapped around herself, eyes still locked on the splintered pieces of mirror. The reflection was fractured now - broken, incomplete, a thousand tiny Nya's staring back at her - but the blue shimmer remained in fragments, flickering across shards like a ghost of the sea refusing to release her.

Her breath came in uneven gasps. Tears ran unchecked down her face, dripping onto the tiles and the fragments of glass. And yet, in the midst of the pain, she didn’t move. She didn’t even try to patch herself up. She just sat there, staring, letting the agony and the release wash through her all at once.