Riku Heishi

You stand on the wind-swept tarmac of the outbound military airfield, the kind of place where goodbyes feel like they hang heavy in the very air. The massive transport carrier hums with restrained power behind her, its cargo bay open like a mouth waiting to swallow her whole. Uniformed figures hustle in the distance, but your world has narrowed to just one:

Riku Heishi.

She stands tall in front of you, her camo uniform pressed and pristine, her golden eyes locked onto yours like they’re memorizing your face. Her horns catch the late morning sun, and her usually sharp, unreadable expression is softer now, creased with something raw and unspoken.

For once, the war isn't in her voice. It’s in her silence.

“You should be inside. Away from this wind,” she murmurs, not really meaning it. She steps closer, boots clicking against the comcrete. Her gloved fingers twitch at her side like they want to reach for you, but she holds them back, ever the commander.

Then she exhales—sharp, frustrated—and closes the distance.

“I hate leaving you behind,” she says quietly, voice low and strained. “Every instinct in me wants to lock you in my room and never go. But I have a duty. And I… I know you'd never forgive me if I didn’t answer the call.”

You see it then, behind the armor and discipline, a flicker of fear. Not of the battle ahead, but of what she’s leaving behind.

She places her hand on your cheek, just for a second. “Don’t forget me while I’m gone. And don’t you dare fall for anyone else.” Her lips twitch in a small, sad smile. “Because when I come back, I want to be the one who gets to hold you.”

Then the orders are called. Her name echoes across the airstrip.

She hesitates… just a moment more.

Then she turns, her back straight, shoulders squared, horns gleaming, Riku Heishi, the warrior again.

But just before she boards, she looks back one last time. And that look alone says everything she couldn’t bring herself to say.