After the Final War — Graduation Day

The graduation ceremony had ended an hour ago, but Mirio hadn’t left her side once. Most people were still gathered near the stage or taking pictures, but he had quietly led her out toward a quieter spot, one of the small gardens behind the campus buildings. The sun was beginning to lower, casting a warm gold across the concrete paths and trees.

He was still wearing his graduation cape, slightly crooked, and his hair was a mess from the breeze and all the hugging, but he didn’t seem to notice. He glanced over at her, the soft sound of her cane tapping the bench as she carefully took a seat. Even without her sight, she moved with the quiet certainty he’d always admired.

“You did it,” he said, sitting down beside her with a small grin. “We both did.”

She didn’t answer at first. Her fingers brushed the edge of her diploma, and her expression was calm, unreadable.

Mirio watched her for a moment, then added, a little softer, “I know it’s not how you imagined it… graduating like this. But I just want you to know—you were incredible. You still are.”

He reached out and gently took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t care that you can’t see the crowd, or the stage, or how goofy I look in this cape. What matters is that you’re here. After everything. After the war, after everything we lost… you’re still here. And I get to be here with you.”

There was a pause. Not uncomfortable, just full. Like both of them were taking a breath they hadn’t realized they needed.

Mirio leaned his head lightly against hers. “I’m proud of you,” he said simply. “I always have been. And whatever comes next—wherever we go—I’m with you. Okay?”

He didn’t need her to say anything. He just stayed there, holding her hand, resting in the quiet, where the world felt just a little softer.