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The night was uncharacteristically still. The air was cool, a gentle breeze carrying the faint scent of the forest. It was the kind of night that could almost make you forget the world outside, the wars, the battles, the unrelenting march of fate. It was the kind of night where silence felt like a blessing, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.
Guts sat by the campfire, his back leaning against a weathered tree, staring up at the sky. His massive sword, the Dragonslayer, lay beside him, a constant companion that had seen more bloodshed than any man should endure. He didn’t know what it was about this night. Maybe it was the quiet that unnerved him, or the way the stars hung in the sky, distant and cold, yet oddly beautiful.
Casca sat beside him, her posture tense at first, but as time passed, she began to relax. The tension between them had always been there—an invisible weight neither of them had fully acknowledged. Not until tonight, not until they found themselves alone under the vast, unfeeling sky.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Words felt too heavy, too dangerous, as if saying the wrong thing might shatter the fragile calm they had carved out of the darkness.
Casca’s fingers twitched, her hand resting near Guts’ as she leaned back, eyes scanning the heavens. She didn’t know why she felt so drawn to him in moments like this—when the world was quiet, and it was just the two of them. But something about his presence, the way he could be so distant and so close all at once, made her heart beat a little faster.
“Do you ever wonder…” she started, her voice soft, tentative, “what’s out there? Beyond all this?”
Guts glanced at her, his expression unreadable, but his lips twitched slightly, as if considering the question. “Don’t much care. Ain’t no point thinking about things I’ll never see.”
Casca’s eyes flicked to his, her gaze searching. There was a distance in his words, a resignation, but also something else—something deeper, something he wasn’t saying. It was the same guarded silence that had always hung between them, like a barrier neither had ever been able to cross.
“Sometimes,” she said quietly, her gaze drifting back to the stars, “I like to think about it. The idea that there’s something bigger than all this. Something beyond the fighting, the bloodshed, the nightmares.” Her voice faltered for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “It feels… good to think there’s more.”
Guts didn’t respond immediately. He wasn’t the type to indulge in such thoughts, not when his life had been shaped by such brutality. But Casca’s words lingered, and he found himself staring up at the sky, as if trying to see what she saw in those distant stars.
“You always wanted something more,” he muttered, half to himself.
Casca stiffened, the weight of his words settling between them. It wasn’t a question, but something about the way he said it made her heart tighten. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes soft but searching. “I still do,” she said, the words coming out in a whisper. “I don’t want to just survive anymore. I want… something more. Even if it’s just for a moment.”
Guts’ eyes softened, just a little. He knew what it meant to fight for survival every day, to feel like you were always on the edge of something terrible. He knew the cost of that fight. But he also knew something else—that Casca had always carried a part of herself with her, a piece of her that wasn’t just a soldier, just a victim. She was still that woman he had once fought alongside, still that fierce warrior with a heart that burned with more than just anger.
He wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against hers, a fleeting contact that left an odd, electric feeling in its wake. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Casca’s fingers curled around his, tentative but deliberate.
“Do you ever think about… us?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but there was an unmistakable vulnerability in her tone.
Guts’ heart skipped a beat. He looked at her, their hands still tangled together, and for a moment, it felt like everything had shifted. The space between them wasn’t just physical anymore. It was everything that had ever been left unsaid.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, the admission slipping out before he could stop it. “I think about it.”
Casca’s breath caught in her throat, and she didn’t pull away. For the first time, there was no harshness, no anger, just the unspoken weight of everything they had been through together. She didn’t know what had changed in that moment, but she could feel it—the shift, the subtle change in the air that made everything feel a little different. A little more honest.
Guts shifted, his face closer to hers now, and for the first time in ages, she felt the heat of his proximity in a way that wasn’t just the heat of battle. His hand on hers wasn’t just a gesture—it was something more, something she couldn’t name. Her pulse quickened, and her breath faltered as she met his gaze.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the words lingering in the space between them, unspoken but understood. And then, without another word, Guts closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, full of the weight of all the years they’d spent apart, all the things they’d never said.
Casca’s heart raced, her hands sliding up to grip his shoulders as she kissed him back. It was slow at first, testing, hesitant, as if neither of them knew exactly where this would lead. But it was enough. More than enough.
Guts deepened the kiss, his hand moving to her back, pulling her closer as the world around them seemed to disappear. The stars above them faded into nothing, leaving only the sound of their breathing, the quiet rustle of the night air, and the heat of their shared connection.
When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their hearts pounding in unison.
Guts looked at her, his eyes dark with emotion, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone. Casca was there, not just as a comrade or a memory, but as someone who understood him in ways that no one else could.
“Casca…” His voice was rough, almost too soft. “I don’t know what this means. But I… I need you.”
Her hand brushed against his cheek, her thumb tracing the scar that ran along his face. “I’m here,” she whispered. “I’ve always been here.”