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word comes along with a hurricane of distress and incredulity and the long-suffering sigh of a weariness long gone cold. lips pinched tight, skins pale; it shouldn't be a surprise anymore, you think, but it never fails to send a shiver of fear down everyone's spine at the mere mention of the word.
herscherr.
even the wind flinches.
"a new herscherr has been born?"
"yeah." a low whisper. "it's captain himeko from squad v this time. only one person's left alive from her team."
it was a normal day. an almost-good-day. a peaceful day. it shouldn't be a surprise anymore, you think, but now, static runs in your ears and your hands are shaking — no, the world is shaking — no —
you collide with the wall. harsh.
a concerned face greets you. “hey, are you —?"
squad v. himeko's squad. hua's squad. you push against the wall, and the cold sticks to your clammy hands. someone bumps into you, but you shrug them away blindly. the world is still shaking underneath your feet, and the air you breathe has turned scaldingly cold in your lungs.
it's almost funny how sudden your day can turn so rottenly bad, but you can't bring yourself to laugh. you would pray, if you knew any god that would listen. please let her be safe, you beg anyway, and the ground tilts in answer.
she has to be alive.
you find yourself in front of the medbay. the door opens with a bang.
"hua!"
but the room is dark and quiet; the windows are drawn shut and what little light is crushed by the suffocating shadows whispering in the room. you're late, the darkness laughs, the murmurs continue. you step into the bay.
"hua?" you ask again, quiet this time, though your racing heartbeat betrays the calmness of your tone. you can hear it — the whole base can hear it: your nervousness, the anxiety, the shivering fear. you're late, too late, the shadows snicker, and with gritted teeth, you take another step into the room.
the door closes with a click, and all light snuffs out.
it takes a while, but the moonlight finds its way into the room eventually, and a hint of life springs when you spy a curved figure on the last bed of the aisle. you sigh, but the relief won't come. not yet.
she's turned her back on you and like this, she looks like a child cowering from the world. can't see her as a soldier fighting against an undefeatable enemy when she's like this, so frail, so tired, so scared. you wonder how this is fair. but that is a trail of thought that never leads anywhere.
you approach her, but she does not show any indication of noticing you.
"hua," you say, and finally, she moves, if only to slide her blanket up to hide her face even more. "are you . . . ?"
are you what? okay? clearly not. but you fail to form words, and the question hangs awkwardly in the air. or maybe it's just you. hua curls into herself even more, and says nothing.
do you speak again? and say what? should you leave? should you stay? what are you supposed to do when your friend is hurting right in front of you and there's nothing you can really do to take her pain away? you wish you can do something, anything — but what?
still, she says nothing.
"i heard about what happened."
outside, crickets chirp and clouds drift in to cover the moonlight. what little of her that you could see fades to nothing.
still, she says nothing.
you hesitate. maybe you should really leave. she doesn't seem too keen on entertaining you right now — and you berate yourself for even thinking of it. of course not. she just lost her captain to the honkai and somewhere, himeko is rampaging against the world, stripped of everything she was and fought for. of course hua would not be in the mood to entertain you.
the shadows flicker. too late, it says. if only you can see her. you don't want to lose her, too.
"do you . . . should i let you be alone for now, hua?"
and when the silence stretches for so long, you think this is your cue to leave and wait until maybe sunrise to see her again, but the thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. she will be fine, morning come, because she is a soldier first and human second. because this is what it means to be a moth who chases the flames. because this is what everyone expects of her.
but the silence stretches on for so long, and even though you don't want to leave her, you think you really should. a sigh. the cool air pricks your skin with uneasiness.
"don't."
you pause. the clouds fog your vision; you wish you can see her.
it takes a minute, then, in a small voice: "don't leave. please."
your heart soars as much as it breaks, and it feels warm that she's finally reaching out to you as much as it feels chilling how defeated she sounds. so frail, so tired, so scared — you think back to your words as you stumble your way back to her side.
"i'm here," you say, and maybe you should hate yourself for the feeling of relief that spreads like fire through your chest, but you can't help but be glad you haven't lost her at all. your shattered heart beats painfully in the screaming quiet of the room. "i'm here."
as if seconds last for minutes and minutes last for eternities, it takes a while, but she manages to turn around and face you, and when the clouds finally part, you see red eyes scrubbed raw, pinched brows, the heartbreak and confusion and loneliness painted on her face like a broken artwork. you reach out to her, but hesitate.
"please."
she takes your hand as soon as your fingertips touch her cheek, and she holds on to you like a lifeline. her hands are cold; you place your other hand above both of yours, and hope the warmth of your skin replaces the chill that has settled in hers.
she falls silent again, but you don't mind. not anymore. the shadows have gone quiet, too. even in the dark, your hand grasps hers, and her hold is unbelievably weak and fragile, but her heartbeat against your palm washes over you like a warm blanket. hua's safe. she's here. she's alive. outside, the moon shines bright.
she will be fine, morning come, and so will you, because you are soldiers first and humans second. because that is what it means to be the moths who chase the flames. because that is what everyone expects of you.
but tonight, she is broken in your arms and you will be the glue to hold her together, even if it's only until the morning comes.