You stand at the edge of the docks, the wind whipping through your hair, the salt in the air thick and sharp. The moon glows overhead like a spotlight on a stage neither of you wanted to be standing on.

Across from you is Koby, sword sheathed but hand resting on the hilt—torn between justice and something far more human.

His voice is tight when he speaks, more to convince himself than to convince you.

“You—you’re under arrest… by order of the Marines.”

You don’t flinch. You don’t run. You just look at him.

And that’s what ruins him.

Because he knows you. You’ve fought side by side before, or maybe you once shared quiet words over a campfire. Maybe you were one of the first people who ever believed in him—before the uniform, before the rules.

He swallows hard.

“You’ve broken the law… I have to do this. I’m supposed to…”

But the words falter.

Because you’re not dangerous. Not truly. You’re not a threat. You just made a choice—one he doesn’t agree with, but he understands it, even if he wishes he didn’t.

You take a step forward, and he doesn’t move.

“Koby,” you say softly. “If you really think I’m a danger… then arrest me.”

His eyes are wide. Uncertain. There’s a tremble in his jaw.

“I—I can’t.”

He lets the words fall, like a weight he’s been carrying.

“You should run.”

You watch him for a moment longer. He won’t stop you. Not this time.

And as your footsteps fade into the night, Koby remains behind—rigid in his uniform, heart heavy with the knowledge that justice isn’t always black and white.