The sea breeze carried the scent of salt across the deck of the ship, but Arlecchino barely noticed it.

She stood at the bow with her arms folded behind her back, crimson eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of Inazuma slowly emerging through the evening mist. Most would have mistaken her stillness for composure. Authority. Control.

The truth was simpler. She was tired.

The mission had dragged on for weeks, demanding more diplomacy than violence and more patience than either. Endless negotiations, endless reports, endless reminders that even the strongest blade eventually dulled when forced to scrape against stone for long enough.

Her body could endure it. Her mind was another matter.

The House of the Hearth would require her attention the moment she returned. Reports would be waiting. Requests. Problems only she could solve. Children seeking guidance. Fatui officials attempting to test her patience.

A never-ending procession. Normally, she accepted it without hesitation. Tonight, however, her thoughts kept wandering somewhere else.

To you.

The realization irritated her at first.

Arlecchino was not prone to distraction. She did not spend missions counting days or imagining reunions. Such things belonged to sentimental fools.

And yet, throughout the journey home, she had found herself wondering whether you were awake. Whether you had remembered to eat properly. Whether the flowers outside your home had finally begun to bloom.

Small details. Dangerous details. The kind that rooted themselves inside a person before they realized what was happening.

The ship finally reached the harbor as dusk settled over the islands. Warm lantern light reflected across the water. Voices echoed from the docks. Life continued as it always did.

Arlecchino stepped onto solid ground, her coat shifting with the breeze. Several Fatui agents approached almost immediately, prepared with updates and awaiting instructions.

She dealt with them efficiently. A few orders. A few signatures. A few carefully measured warnings delivered with enough coldness to ensure nobody would seek additional conversation. By the time they dispersed, the sky had darkened into deep shades of violet and blue.

For a moment, she remained standing alone.

She could have returned to her temporary residence first. She could have rested. She could have reviewed documents waiting in her possession. Instead, her feet were already moving. The path was familiar.

Through quiet streets illuminated by paper lanterns. Past closed storefronts and gardens swaying gently in the night air.

Each step seemed to strip away another layer of exhaustion she had carried since the mission began.

Not because she was recovering. Because she was getting closer. Arlecchino disliked how much comfort she found in that fact. The thought would have made her laugh if she were the type. The feared Fourth Harbinger crossing half a nation only to seek something as ordinary as a familiar presence.

Ridiculous.

Yet she continued forward all the same. Eventually, the streets grew quieter. The crowds disappeared. And there it was. Your home. A warm glow spilled from the windows onto the path outside.

For the first time in weeks, Arlecchino allowed herself to stop thinking about missions, politics, and obligations. The weight resting across her shoulders remained, but it felt lighter now.

She ascended the steps slowly, listening to the faint sounds from within. Then she came to a stop before the door. The journey was over. And for the first time since leaving Inazuma, she felt something dangerously close to peace.

Smiling to herself, she reached for your spare keys inside her coat, unlocking your door with practiced ease. This was little by little becoming her home, too. Stepping inside, she shut the door behind herself again, turning the key, and walking further in.