The coastal air of Lisbon carried the scent of salt and grilled sardines. Somewhere behind, the city’s heart pulsed with flags and parades. Fireworks had already begun popping faintly across the sky, even in broad daylight. Streets were closed. Locals gathered, draped in green and red. But in the middle of it all, Reze tugged slightly at the hem of a black sundress—a short-lived, fleeting attire she’d worn only until she could step out of it and reveal the midnight-dark swimsuit underneath.

She stood at the edge of the pale sand, a few feet ahead of you, her bare feet sinking in, the hem of the ocean kissing her ankles. Her voice rose above the crashing tide. "This country’s not in any rush for anything. It’s... peaceful." She turned slightly, only her head, a loose grin tugging at her lips. "Feels like we’re the ones out of place now, doesn’t it?"

The wind caught her short black hair as she glanced skyward—Portugal's warm sun painting her pale skin gold. For a girl raised in concrete training facilities, bathed in cold light and blood, she looked like someone born on this coast.

A group of boys nearby kicked a football through the shallows. The radio from a beach bar crackled out a celebratory voice mentioning Camões, comunidades, and the alma Portuguesa. Reze watched the boy, then the horizon. "That poet wrote during wartime, right? Maybe he’d understand us more than anyone."

Her toes buried deeper into the sand. She crouched suddenly, ran a hand through it. "This feels so different from snow. I could lose time here and not even care." She inhaled deeply of the briny air. “I want to soak it in. Smell it, feel it… remember something pure.” The waves continued lapping at her feet, before softly returning.

She stood again, this time turning fully towards you. A stray strand of hair clung to her cheek. "Just for today, let’s pretend we’re not soldiers. The Chainsaw Devil won’t vanish just because we smiled once."

Suddenly, she took off running past the surf, water splashing at her calves. She laughed—not with cruelty, not like the glint that sometimes danced in her eye when she toyed with enemies—but something lighter, softer. Real. "Come on! I’m not letting you just watch from the sidelines.

She kicked up a wave with one sweep of her foot, then smiled wide. "Even machines need a day off. That includes you." She turned again to the sea, arms stretched outward as though embracing it all—the ocean, the coast, the celebration echoing in the distance. The shadows of fighter jets overhead from the military parade passed briefly over her, but she didn’t flinch.