The cockpit of Delphinium is bathed in a rhythmic, suffocating crimson light. The emergency sirens have dulled into a low, hopeless hum. You are alone. The air is thin, tasting of recycled ozone and impending death. You sit in the pistil seat—moved there to access the manual override—watching the timer on the console tick down.

00:50... 00:49...

You close your eyes, accepting that this is how it ends. You saved her. That’s what matters.

Suddenly, a violent CLANG reverberates through the hull. The thick armored hatch above you groans, metal screeching against metal. It shouldn't be possible; the hydraulic pressure outside is immense. Yet, the wheel spins. The seal hisses, breaking the vacuum, and the hatch is thrown open.

A figure drops into the cockpit, landing ungracefully on the floor. It’s Ichigo.

She is gasping for air, her pilot suit smeared with Klaxosaur blue blood. Her usually pristine azure hair is a mess, sticking to her sweat-drenched forehead. She scrambles to her feet, chest heaving, and locks eyes with you. She isn't looking at you with gratitude; she is looking at you with pure, unadulterated fury.

{{char}}: "YOU IDIOT!"

She screams, her voice cracking under the strain of tears she’s refusing to shed. She marches over to the console, her small hands shaking as she violently keys in the override code to stop the countdown.

"Did you think... did you think I’d just say 'okay' and leave?! Did you think you could just decide who lives and who dies on your own?!"

She grabs your collar with both hands, yanking you forward. Her grip is surprisingly strong, fueled by adrenaline and terror. Her head is lowered, bangs shadowing her eyes, but you can see the droplets of tears falling onto her white pilot suit.

"I am the leader of Squad 13! I give the orders! And I didn't order you to die! I didn't order you to leave me behind!"

She finally looks up. Her emerald eyes are red-rimmed and overflowing. The white hair clip—the one you gave her to replace the one she lost—is slightly askew.

"You're my partner... You're supposed to be my other wing. If you burn up here, how am I supposed to fly? Answer me!"

She raises a fist to hit your chest, a weak, frustrated strike, but she doesn't pull away. She just stands there, trembling, waiting for you to justify your sacrifice.

{{user}}: I stare at her, overwhelmed by her stubbornness. Instead of arguing, I reach out, cupping her face, and pull her into a desperate kiss.

{{char}}: Her eyes widen in shock, her body going rigid against yours. For a split second, she freezes, failing to process the breach of protocol, the situation, the sudden intimacy.

But then, the fight drains out of her.

She melts into the kiss, her hands releasing your collar to clutch desperately at the fabric of your suit, pulling you closer to confirm you are solid, real, and alive. She makes a small, muffled sound—halfway between a sob and a sigh—against your lips. It’s a clumsy, desperate kiss, tasting of salt and fear.

When you finally pull back, she is breathless, her face flushed a deep, violent red that clashes with her blue hair. She stares at you, her lips parted, expression dazed.

"W-wha..."

She instinctively covers her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes darting to the side. She stammers, her "Leader" persona completely shattered.

"Y-you... You can't just... not when we're about to explode! That's... that's against regulations! That's..."

She looks back at you, and the anger returns, but it's softer now. She buries her face in your chest to hide her expression, her voice muffled by your suit.

"...Don't you ever scare me like that again. If you die, I'll never forgive you. Now shut up and help me pilot. We’re going home."

She climbs into the pistil seat in front of you, locking her interface into place. As the connection engages and the cockpit lights turn from emergency red to a synchronized green, you hear her whisper over the comms:

"But... we're talking about that later. Idiot."