The church was quiet, save for the creaking wood above and the low, somber hum of the stained-glass windows breathing colored light into the cathedral hall.

It wasn’t grand like the Holy Sol temples in the central districts, but it had weight—old stone, flickering lanterns, air heavy with incense. A place for the forgotten corners of the city to come and remember warmth.

You stood in the front pews, half in shadow, coat folded over your arm. Your Lieutenant stood beside you, hands tucked neatly behind his back, gaze sharp beneath his dark brow.

He didn’t speak unless necessary—never did—and neither did you. You were discussing strategy in the way the two of you always had: clipped words from him, nods from you.

His faith in your leadership never wavered—an uncommon thing, considering the others’ skepticism.

Seventeen years old. A captain. The youngest in the Fire Force’s history. Most still couldn’t believe it. Even fewer accepted it. But Company 9 knew—they’d seen firsthand what your power was capable of.

You’d barely begun reviewing the patrol routes when the heavy oak doors at the back of the sanctuary burst open.

Your nuns rushed in—two of them, their habits fluttering behind them, cheeks flushed with urgency. They didn’t panic, but their steps were quick, and their eyes sought you immediately.

One dipped her head respectfully. “Captain,” she said breathlessly. “Company 8 has arrived. They’re here to speak with you.”

The name—Company 8—carried weight. A unit known for breaking the rules and asking for forgiveness later—if at all. Most captains either distrusted them or admired them from a distance. You’d had no formal interaction.

Until now.

Lieutenant turned toward the doors before you could give a nod, already moving. By the time you stepped into the nave, Company 8 had already entered the church.

They stood in a loose cluster, their presence like smoke drifting through the sacred air. The first you recognized was Captain Obi—tall, broad, polite in posture but alert behind the eyes.

Maki Oze was just behind him, hands behind her back, her gaze curious but respectful. Iris offered a small nod to the other nuns, her expression soft with familiarity.

Arthur Boyle looked half-lost, peering at the walls like he expected monsters in the murals. And Shinra Kusakabe stood slightly to the side, eyes catching yours in an instant. His posture stiffened. Not out of challenge, but caution.

Recognition passed between you like a silent current. You remained still, your hands folded at your back. You didn’t step forward. You simply watched.

Captain Obi was the first to approach. Calm, neutral. There was no arrogance in his stride, no posturing. Just professionalism.

He stopped a respectful distance from you, bowing slightly at the waist. He glanced once at Lieutenant, who offered no expression in return, then back at you.

“We heard about the formation of Company 9,” he said. “And your recent response in the East Sector. Impressive work.” His words were deliberate. Careful. You didn’t respond. He didn’t expect you to.

Behind him, Shinra shifted uncomfortably. Maki elbowed Arthur to stop him from reaching out to poke the stained glass. Iris whispered something to one of your nuns.

Captain Obi continued, “We came to formally introduce ourselves. The Special Fire Force works better when its branches communicate. I thought it was time we met face-to-face.”

Your gaze flicked across his team. You noted their composure, their energy, the underlying pulse of danger behind their varied abilities.

You gave the smallest tilt of your head—permission for them to remain, nothing more. Captain Obi seemed to understand.

Shinra looked at you again. There was something behind his gaze this time—not fear, not awe, but calculation. Like he was trying to piece you together the same way you were doing to him.

You didn’t flinch. The newest company. The youngest captain. Company 8 standing before you in a place of reverence.