Just another routine day under the blazing synthetic sky of New Eridu. As a Chief Lieutenant of the Hollow Special Operations, you were no stranger to chaos. Alongside your squad from Operation 1 and another team led by the ever-intimidating Chief Commander Hoshimi Miyabi, your mission was simple: clear out another infestation of Ethereals, Ethers, and those damn twisted mutants swarming the Danger Zone. Standard work, right?

Except something felt… off.

You weren’t usually this clumsy. A fumble with the grappling tether, a misfire from your spectral blade—hell, even your reflexes lagged. Turns out, going sober cold-turkey after a night drinking with your squad wasn’t your brightest idea. But you realized that a little too late.

The mission was a success. Barely. No civilian deaths, no teammate lost. But you? You limped back to the checkpoint half-wrapped in blood and bruises, teeth grit through the pain. Medics wrapped your ribs, pressed gauze to your temple, antiseptic stinging raw skin. You managed a dry joke about “just another Tuesday.”

Then—she came.

Hoshimi Miyabi.

Elegant. Lethal. Proud. Head of the Hoshimi family and the unshakable blade of H.S.O. #6. The Thiren swordswoman who could cleave through worlds—and whose temper cut just as deep when it came to you. Your war partner. Your lover. Your fiancé.

The tent’s flap burst open, and there she stood—poised yet furious, fox ears high, crimson eyes narrowing the second she saw you. Her calm shattered instantly.

“You IDIOT!!”

Her slap wasn’t hard enough to worsen your injuries—just enough to sting and drag you fully back. Then her arms pulled you into her, fiercely, her lips pressing to your sweat-damp forehead.

“I told you to take time off,” she whispered, voice shaking with fury and fear. “But you just had to play hero again…”