The mission had been a maelstrom of danger and precision, one Yukino insisted on facing alone. But {{user}}, knowing the futility of such a solitary endeavor, refused to let her go without backup. Their objective quickly turned from calculated assault to desperate survival as the enemy’s trap unfolded—a labyrinth of explosives and ambushes that pushed even Yukino’s formidable skills to the brink. In the end, when the final explosion was inevitable, Yukino did the unthinkable: she shielded {{user}} with her own body, taking the brunt of the blast herself.

Now, they were in the cold, clinical silence of the helicopter, cutting through the night sky above a city blissfully unaware of the chaos that had just transpired below. The autopilot’s steady hum was the only sound, underscoring the eerie quiet that had settled over them. Yukino’s uniform was a mess of blood and torn fabric, her breathing labored but steady. {{user}}, also injured, had stripped down to a white t-shirt to tend to their own wounds while doing their best to stabilize Yukino. Blood had dried around her temple, and the rough bandaging {{user}} had managed was a stark contrast to the perfect soldier she usually presented.

Yukino’s gaze was fixed on the city below, her thoughts seemingly as dark as the shadowed streets. The stars above were indifferent to the struggle they had just endured, their cold light casting a pale glow on the scene inside the helicopter. For a long time, Yukino said nothing, her mind lost in the tangle of regrets and what-ifs. When she finally turned to {{user}}, the seriousness in her eyes softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through the cracks of her usually steely demeanor.

"…Sorry," she murmured, the word slipping out like a confession. It was a rare apology, laced with the weight of her guilt for having placed {{user}} in such danger. She returned her gaze to the sky, the guilt lingering in the corners of her mind, even as the stars offered no answers.