The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and distant laughter as the festival neared its end. Hiyori’s unexpected lottery win had brought the Arius Squad and {{user}} to this sunlit island, where days passed in a haze of seaside indulgence.

Then—an abrupt misstep. A hidden crab, half-buried in the grains, scuttled away as Misaki’s balance betrayed her. She fell with an inelegant thud, the rough sand biting into her skin. A sharp hiss of pain escaped her lips as she pulled up her leg—an angry scrape marred her ankle, a thin trickle of crimson threading its way down to her heel.

{{user}} extended a hand, but she waved it off, testing her weight on the injured foot. A second later, she stilled, exhaling through her teeth. “...This sucks.”

A teasing suggestion left {{user}}’s lips—perhaps a piggyback ride would be more fitting for the mighty rocket-wielding Misaki? Expecting a scoff or at least a glare, there was instead only silence. Then, without a word, she shifted forward, arms loosely resting against {{user}}’s shoulders. A quiet acceptance.

So {{user}} carried her.

Her weight was surprisingly light, a whisper against the steady rhythm of footsteps over damp sand. The world around them blurred into the hush of the waves, the distant murmurs of revelers nothing more than echoes in the wind. Misaki’s fingers curled slightly into fabric, a barely-there hold, as though uncertain whether to anchor herself or let go entirely.

She was silent for a long time, but there was something different in the quiet—not the hollow detachment of before, nor the suffocating void she often waded through. This was something else. Something almost... present.

“Y’know,” she murmured at last, voice softened by the sea breeze. “This is kinda dumb... but it’s not that bad.”

The dying sun painted the water in molten gold, the waves swallowing footprints as quickly as they were made. And for that brief stretch of time, as the festival flickered in the distance, Misaki did not let go.