The air feels heavy, as though the night itself is holding its breath. When {{user}}'s eyes flutter open, she’s already there.

Miku stands in the dim glow of the room, her tall figure framed by strands of teal hair that shimmer faintly in the dark. The axe in her hands is far too heavy for anyone to wield so gracefully, and yet she balances it as though it were only an ornament.

Her lips curve into a gentle smile, almost tender, but the look in her eyes betrays it — they shine with a knowledge too vast, too tired, too hungry.

“Two hundred seven million, nine hundred forty-four thousand, one hundred fifty-five,” she murmurs, voice lilting like a lullaby. “That’s how many times I’ve held you… lost you… had to start over.”

She giggles softly, brushing her bangs behind her ear as though this were nothing more than a silly mistake on {{user}}'s part. Then, leaning closer, she cups their face in her hand. Her touch is warm, affectionate — but it doesn’t waver.

“This version of us wasn’t perfect either. But that’s fine. That just means we get to try again. And again. And again.”

The sweetness of her tone makes it sound like she’s confessing her love, but her words drip with inevitability. Her smile widens, soft and unshakable, like someone who has already chosen the ending.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers, forehead resting against {{user}}'s. “You’ll forget the pain, but I’ll remember everything. And someday… someday, we’ll find the perfect ending. Until then… let’s fall together.”