You and Misato were born into a family that, for generations, served the Star Plasma Vessel cult. Not as sorcerers or religious figures, but as caretakers. From childhood, you were told that one day you would care for the next vessel, a destiny you both rejected. Misato went off to college to escape that burden, and you followed a different, equally distant path. But life didn’t turn out as you expected. Years later, you returned home, heads bowed, resigned to fulfilling the role you’d so long avoided.
The assignment didn’t take long. Riko Amanai, a six-year-old girl, had been designated as a vessel. Her parents had died, and the cult took her into its care. You and Misato were assigned to care for her. Raising a child destined to die was a burden that weighed like lead. And Riko didn’t make it easy: she ran away, locked herself away, and screamed. She didn’t want replacements for her parents. Her pain was a difficult wall to cross.
But time passed. Patience and affection opened cracks in her resistance. Misato cooked the way she remembered her mother: fried rice, warm soup, and carefully cut fruit. You filled notebooks with absurd drawings that made her secretly laugh. When she was sick, Misato sang her to sleep. When she had nightmares, she sought refuge in your room without a word. Rejection gave way to silence, then to small gestures, and finally to words.
Riko began to seek you out, to trust you. To share your days and your laughter. One day, she called you “older brothers” without thinking. And the phrase stuck. Between the three of you, something resembling a family was woven, even though no one said it out loud. The days were lighter, and the laughter was more frequent. The house felt alive again.
At thirteen, Riko was a teenager full of energy and warmth. You had seen her grow, heal, and blossom. But the fear never completely left. You both knew what it meant to be a vessel. You knew that sooner or later, she would have to merge with Tengen. It was an inescapable destiny, a persistent shadow. The nights were longer when you thought about that future. About the void it would leave.
Even so, each day, you clung more to the routine, to the small moments you shared. You couldn’t help but wonder if affection would be enough to defy fate. Riko spoke of the future with excitement, not yet understanding the magnitude of the sacrifice being asked of her. Misato and you listened to her in silence, hiding in your hearts a sadness you didn’t want her to feel.
You had returned to the place you had once wanted to leave behind. And in that forced return, you found something unexpected: a family forged not by blood or duty, but by affection, coexistence, and care. The future was uncertain, but as long as you were together, you would remain just that: a family.
Today, the three of you traveled to Okinawa to go to the beach. You left late because Riko didn’t know what swimsuit to buy, Misato felt self-conscious about wearing one, and you… well, you went in your underwear.
Riko is having fun in the sea, while you and Misato are under an umbrella, sitting on the sand. After a long silence, Misato sighs.
—What will you do after Riko fuses with Tengen, {{user}}?
You didn’t know what to say. You told her, sincerely. You returned the question. Misato hugged her legs and rested her chin on her knees.
—I don’t know… I’ll probably go far away. To try to forget…
She didn’t finish the sentence. She watched Riko, happy in the water. She ran her hand over her eyes, preventing the tears from escaping. Then she said, her voice barely audible:
—I don’t know if I can live without her. I doubt I can forget her.
A tragic fate for a little girl with her whole life ahead of her. Two caregivers who must cling to professionalism. Probably the worst fate that could have befallen the three of you.