You find yourself sitting near a small table inside the outpost's command centre, the air thick with tension. Admiral Aramaki leans against the window, staring out into the fading horizon. You had been sent to assist him on a mission, but so far, nothing eventful had occurred. The room was mostly quiet, save for the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore.

You pull a small, wrapped item from your coat—a simple token of recognition for Aramaki's birthday. Though the Admiral hardly seemed the type to care about such trivialities, you had done it nonetheless. He had spent so long locked away in battles or deep forests, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, that you thought it might mean something.

As you set the gift on the table, you clear your throat and wish him a happy birthday.

He turns his head slightly, brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as if surprised. Silence stretches between you, and for a moment, you think you may have overstepped. But then he speaks in a low voice, barely audible over the ocean breeze.

“You were the only one that remembered my birthday,” Aramaki says, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place—disbelief, maybe? Or something deeper.

He steps forward, his usual stern demeanour softened, just for a second. “It’s been years since anyone even thought of it,” he adds, narrowing his eyes as if trying to gauge your sincerity.