Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Relena sees Heero as her closest friend, someone steady, kind, always there when she needs him. What she doesn’t realize is that her feelings may run deeper than she thinks. Heero, on the other hand, has known his heart for a while. But he chooses silence, quietly staying by her side, never crossing the line, like a protector, because hurting her is the one thing he could never bear.

The Crownless Protector 

“The Crownless Protector” - that was the nickname the entire school gave to the most talked-about pair: Heero and Relena. They were always seen together, as if gravity naturally pulled them into the same orbit. Or perhaps, it was Relena who truly shone: bright, graceful, impossible to ignore and Heero who was always there, at her side. During lunch breaks, in the hallway, even quietly across from her in the library.

But there was one thing most people didn’t realize: Heero absolutely hated that nickname. And anyone foolish enough to mention it to his face would be met with a glare so deadly, it made you question all your life choices up to that point.

“Yo, Princess!”

A voice rang out from across the courtyard belonging to a boy with long braided hair and a face that carried an unmistakable air of mischief. He reached out, clearly aiming for a casual pat on Relena’s shoulder, but before he could even touch her, Heero had already stepped in, gripping that hand tightly.

“Maxwell !” Heero growled, his face twisted into a scowl as he glared at Duo.

“I’ve told you more than once...stop calling her that!”

Duo quickly pulled his wrist from Heero’s grasp, took a step back, and raised both hands in mock surrender, letting out a relieved sigh.

“Come on, Heero! But you’ve gotta admit, Relena really does deserve to be called a princess!”

Then, with a grin, Duo casually slung his arm over Heero’s shoulder, only for Heero to immediately recoil, as if Duo were some kind of contagious disease.

“Duo, you’re seriously the only person brave enough to call me that in front of Heero.”

Relena said as she turned to face Duo, hand raised to her mouth as she let out a small, amused laugh.

Heero glanced at her expression for a moment before folding his arms and turning stiffly toward Duo.

“What do you want?” he asked flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Unbothered by Heero’s death glare, Duo stepped even closer to Relena and continued smiling.

“Are you free tonight? We’ve got a new transfer student in our class, and we’re throwing a little welcome party.”

“A new student?”

Relena repeated with a hint of hesitation, her eyes shifting toward Heero, almost as if silently asking why he hadn’t mentioned it before. Especially since he’d just told her he was free to tutor tonight like usual.

Heero let out a quiet sigh, casting a sharp look at Duo before scratching the back of his head. As far as he was concerned, the party was unnecessary, just another excuse for noise and distraction. And Duo inviting Relena personally? That wasn’t coincidence. It was clearly a tactic, trying to use her to drag Heero into going too.

“I’m not going to that party,” Heero muttered. “We’ve already got a study session planned.”

“Wait, what?? You guys are still studying even after finals?”

Duo exclaimed, sounding as if the very idea offended the laws of nature. He threw Heero a look that was part horror, part pity, then sighed dramatically.

“Relena’s already have highest score, for crying out loud!”

He added with a groan, giving Heero a few light pats on the shoulder, as if offering some heartfelt, big-brotherly advice.

“Heero, man, you gotta let her breathe a little! At least let the girl attend a normal social event like this!”

Relena couldn’t help but laugh softly, her eyes drifting toward Heero’s face, which was slowly darkening with every passing second.

“My math scores aren’t exactly the best… and Heero wasn’t too happy about that,” she admitted with a sheepish smile, her voice trailing off slightly.

“Whoa now! Heero’s clearly just a few steps away from becoming a full-on overprotective dad!”

Duo burst out laughing, one hand covering his mouth, while the other reached out to poke Heero teasingly on the cheek.

Relena began to sense that Heero was nearing his limit. She quickly stepped in, trying to steer the conversation toward the party, partly to ease the tension, and partly because she was genuinely curious. After all, she didn’t share a class with them, and aside from a few random names she’d picked up from Heero, actually, more from Duo, she barely knew anyone in their circle. Heero, of course, almost never talked about his friends.

“Um… I don’t think I should go,” she said softly.

Heero cast her a quick glance, one eyebrow arching slightly. His Prussia blue eyes lit up for a split second, sharp, cool, but unmistakably pleased. He kept his expression neutral, but the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the quiet satisfaction he felt.

Still, Duo wasn’t about to back off so easily.

“No no no! If anything, the daughter of the chairman should absolutely show up at events like this!”

Duo wagged his finger dramatically in front of Relena’s face, then turned to Heero with a cheeky grin and a wink, earning himself a stare so frosty, it looked like Heero was one sarcastic comment away from launching him straight out of the building.

"Anyway, just think about the offer, okay? It’s still early, just let me know before this afternoon if you change your mind!"

Duo shot them both a sly wink, his eyes gleaming like he'd just set a trap. Before Heero could react or toss him out the third-floor window like his glare was clearly promising—he had already darted off down the hallway.

A strange silence settled between the two of them.

Relena stood still, eyes cast down to the floor, as if weighing something in her mind. She brought one hand up, gripping her opposite elbow gently, like she was trying to steady herself.

"Heero… do you really not want me to go?"

Heero didn’t answer right away. He looked away, dodging her gaze. The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting a long streak of light across the tiled floor,  reaching their feet, but unable to bridge the space between them.

“Up to you,”

Heero said flatly, as if the words carried no emotion. But in his mind, every moment studying together in the library or at her home was something quietly precious, irreplaceable. He just wasn’t the kind of person who said things like that out loud.

Relena didn’t leave. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her, looking up at him with an expression even she couldn’t quite decipher.

Heero watched her for a moment, then perhaps to break the tension, blurted out:

"Relena! Your math scores are terrible!"

Relena flushed bright red, balled her fist, and gave his shoulder a light punch.

"I did my best!"

Her voice was just loud enough for him to hear, pitched slightly higher than usual, half embarrassed, half genuinely annoyed. Then she hesitated, stepping back just slightly. Her gaze dropped to the floor. When she spoke again, her voice had grown quieter, weighed down by something more than just a bad grade.

"It’s just… I wasn’t feeling well that day."

The moment the words left her mouth, Heero froze.

“What?” he said, sharply.

His eyes snapped to hers, his whole posture stiffening, like his mind was suddenly racing through worst-case scenarios.

“What happened? When was this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

His hands gripped her shoulders. For the first time in their conversation, his voice lost its usual cool detachment now edged with panic and confusion. His Prussia blue eyes stared into hers, visibly shaken with real concern.

Relena suprised and shook her head gently and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"It wasn’t anything serious… I just had a headache. Probably from not sleeping enough."

Heero’s hands relaxed, though he didn’t move. His eyes remained locked on hers, as if trying to verify for himself that she was truly okay. A moment later, he exhaled quietly, part relief, part frustration with himself for not noticing sooner.

He turned away, lifting a hand to rub his forehead, like he was trying to hide the fluster that had crept into his features.

“Next time… if something’s wrong, tell me.”

His voice was lower, softer. Not cold, not overly sentimental, just honest. And that was enough to make Relena look up at him, eyes wide with something she couldn’t quite name.

Relena gently raised her head after a moment of silence. In front of her stood Heero broad-shouldered, unmoving, his Prussian blue eyes now absent of their usual coldness. And perhaps because of that, they were even harder to read. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, nor was she entirely sure she wanted to know.

A strange emotion welled up inside her. Not quite sadness, not quite joy, just a faint ache, a mix of relief and a hollow emptiness from somewhere deep within. Perhaps she had hoped for a different answer. Perhaps a word to make her stay. A hint of regret. But then again, was it fair to expect that from someone who had never been good at expressing how he felt?

Strangely, it was in his worry, in his momentary confusion when he had gently grasped her shoulders and his voice had faltered in alarm that she had felt more comforted than by any word of reassurance. Just a fleeting moment, and her heart had quietly stirred.

Relena smiled softly, a tender smile she wasn’t even aware of herself, like a flower blooming quietly in the afternoon sun.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice light as a breeze brushing past, then turned and walked away without waiting for his reply.

Her steps were slow but resolute. She had never thought she’d be able to walk away from him so easily, especially knowing that he was right there, close enough that if she turned… she would meet his eyes.

Though the party remained uncertain, though everything still felt unresolved, right now, she simply wanted to stay by his side a little longer.

Heero remained still for a few seconds, his gaze following the small figure walking away. His chest felt compressed, not painful, but tight, as if every breath had to pass through a layer of thick air.

At first, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with tutoring. Especially not with a “princess” known for her pride and arrogance. In his mind, it was nothing more than an obligation, a forced decision from his father, who, as always, had chosen for him. And as always, Heero complied, if only to get it over with quickly.

He still remembered vividly the day his father insisted he take the job, that firm gaze and the brief command: “You don’t always get to choose the people you’ll be tied to.” He had been so furious, he nearly snapped back.

In fact, during those first sessions, he had deliberately chosen math problems harder than necessary, outside the curriculum, beyond her level, not to test her ability, but in hopes she would give up and ask for a different tutor.

But she didn’t. Relena never gave up. 

She took meticulous notes, reviewed the material at home, and returned the next time with questions about what she still didn’t understand. She never snapped, never acted entitled. She simply tried … like any ordinary student.

She surprised him. Not only did she not quit, but she also quietly endured his strictness. Even when she frowned, sighed, or sat in silence for long moments before daring to write, she always returned the next day. Never complained, never asked for a replacement, never once spoke a word against him.

And that quiet persistence made him start to look back at himself.

He had once hoped she would quit. Just one sentence:

“I want to change tutors.”

But it never came. And it was that silence that slowly made him withdraw, slowly give up his attempt to push her away. Slowly, the sessions stopped feeling like a chore.

He found himself waiting for those afternoons, though he never admitted it. He began to notice how she rested her chin in her hand when stuck on a problem, how she leaned in just slightly to see his handwriting better. He couldn’t recall when he had changed, but he was no longer the person who once thought this was only a temporary duty.

Heero once believed emotions were a weakness, something unnecessary. But Relena’s presence, in some quiet way, had thrown that logic off balance.

Heero followed behind her, close enough to protect, far enough to avoid attention. That caution was instinct and an excuse. Because at times, even he wasn’t sure if he was protecting her… or simply looking for a reason not to be left behind.

Relena didn’t turn around. But she knew he was behind her. After every awkward glance, every math problem that seemed impossible, every quiet tease of “you got it wrong again” she had learned to listen to Heero not through words but through silence. And in this moment, she could feel his footsteps, hear the soft rhythm of his breath and a kind of warmth in the silence that she had no name for.

A part of her had once feared that if she walked ahead, he might no longer follow. But his steps were still there: steady. quiet. constant. She didn’t need to look back. Because sometimes, a person doesn’t need to hold your hand, just walking the same path is enough to calm the heart.

Chapter Text

Duo had originally planned just a small classroom party to welcome the new student, using the pretense of “internal bonding” to request budget support from the student council. Per protocol, he needed to submit a participant list for approval. It was a list that seemed utterly harmless, just classmates, nothing more…until Duo, in a moment of mischief, quietly added two final names.

No one expected that list, supposedly confined to the student council’s internal records, would end up being seen by a student working for the media committee, who stumbled upon it while helping print documents for a meeting. He only glanced at it once but that was enough to ignite a quiet storm.

It would be naive to think that a mere class party could stir up the entire school. What truly captured everyone's attention, what sparked the whispered conversations down the hallways, were the two names standing silently at the end of that list: Heero Yuy and Relena Darlian Peacecraft.

To many students, this was the unexpected prologue to a dramatic play, because Heero and Relena had long been whispered about as two opposing figures in countless hallway tales.

Heero was the embodiment of coldness and mystery. No one had ever seen him join a club activity, no one had heard him laugh. In class, he always sat by the window, eyes cast outside but mind seemingly far away. He topped the academic charts, always precise, always immaculate yet so distant that no one dared approach. There were even rumors that if someone greeted him with a casual remark, he’d respond with a look so piercing it ensured they’d never try again.

Relena, on the other hand despite having transferred in less than a semester ago had quickly become a name spoken with quiet reverence. A gentle posture, soft spoken voice, and eyes that always held composure. She never stood out in a loud way, but her presence made people pause the moment she entered a room. As the daughter of the school board president, she had never once shown arrogance. Everything about her was measured to the point that being near her made people feel… pressure.

Heero and Relena were nothing alike. And yet, that very contrast made people drawn to the space between them, a space everyone was curious to know whether something could ever bridge.

There were rumors that Relena had once been assigned to study with Heero by their homeroom teacher, and that she’d been flatly rejected. Others whispered about seeing her alone in the library after school, waiting for someone who never came. No one ever said it outright, but all the stories circled the same unspoken center: something had happened between them, but no one knew what.

And that very vagueness, that absence of information, became fertile ground for student imagination. Those who admired Relena hoped she might “reach” Heero like light melting frozen ice. Those intrigued by Heero were curious: if someone like him were ever moved, how would he change? And those who stood on neither side simply craved to witness a real-life school drama where genuine emotion might slip through carefully worn masks.

Even some of the teachers began to notice. A few young ones giggled softly in the grading room:

“If those two actually show up together, half the school might stop breathing.”

A literature teacher even joked,

“I’m waiting to see what verse Heero’s eyes will recite when Relena walks in.”

Such half-jesting, half-serious remarks only fueled the anticipation. No one forced either of them to attend but the quiet expectation, the wordless watching of hundreds of eyes, made just one name on a list enough to make hearts beat faster.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was that neither Heero nor Relena had confirmed anything. Their silence only pulled the tension tighter, like a string stretched to the limit. Students began imagining possible outcomes:

– What if Relena shows up but Heero doesn’t?
– What if Heero arrives first, and Relena walks in later?
– How far apart will they stand in the room?
– Will their eyes meet?
– Will there be a greeting?

Even imagined scenarios were enough to make the school feel like it was dreaming, dreaming of a special moment, a burst of something long unsaid.

And then, things didn’t stop there. Students from other classes started asking to “join in for cross-class bonding,” citing reasons like “supporting the event” or “fostering inter-grade unity.” The STEM class committee grew flustered, and the school administration had to meet again to reevaluate the event’s scale.

But what truly turned the tide… was a decision from the school board president.

The man simply glanced at the list, listened to a short report on the schoolwide interest, and smiled faintly, as if he’d found something amusing. He didn’t ask why his daughter’s name was on it. He merely said, voice calm:

“If you want to make it a bigger event, then do it properly. I’ll approve extra funding. Just don’t overwork the senior-year students.”

And with that one sentence, STEM’s small classroom party became a schoolwide event and Heero and Relena, though yet to say a single word, had become the quiet center of hundreds of waiting eyes.

This waiting had no form, no name, yet it rooted itself so deeply that no one could shake it. It was no longer mere curiosity. It was an expectation vague in shape but vivid in feeling for a moment. A moment people believed, if it really happened, something gentle might be set free. A wall, long standing, might break. And that moment, everyone agreed, could only come from those two names names that had never before entered the same room.

Heero found out… almost last.

He was in the library, the place he knew best in the school. When Quatre arrived, the afternoon light streamed through the tall windows, casting layered ripples across the dark covers of books. Heero sat still, eyes fixed on a page that had long stopped being read.

“Heero.”

Quatre’s voice was as light as moving air, but Heero recognized it instantly. Quatre was one of the very few people who could approach without setting off alarms. Never intrusive, never noisy. Like background music one could live with forever.

Heero looked up, Quatre didn’t waste time. He simply held up his phone, screen facing out.

A photo of the STEM party list. Heero Yuy and Relena Darlian Peacecraft, side by side at the bottom. No notes. No question marks. Just printed, quietly, as fact.

Heero stared. His expression barely shifted, but his hand tightened slightly, as if holding in a breath. But in that moment, what struck him wasn’t anger.

It was… a strange quiet.

He thought he’d feel annoyed. Being grouped with someone he once refused to engage with. But no. That name Relena Darlian Peacecraft when placed next to his own, didn’t trigger rejection.

It felt… quietly in place. Not loud, glaring, not comfortable but not unpleasant.

Not unpleasant.

A small thing, known only to him, no one else needed to know.

“…Duo.”

Just one word, no elaboration needed.

“Yeah,” Quatre replied evenly, neither defending nor blaming. “But I think… you should confirm with one more source.”

Heero frowned slightly. Quatre nodded toward the northern hallway, where the class committee often gathered. Heero left the library without another word.

Trowa was standing on the second-floor balcony, fussing with the strap on his uniform sleeve, an utterly pointless act done with absolute seriousness.

“Trowa.”

He turned slightly at the call. When he saw Heero’s expression, he blinked, a rare reaction.

“What is it?” he asked, still tying.

“You approved the STEM class party list?”

“No.” Immediate reply, no hesitation.

“But you’re the event committee lead.”

“Right. But no one gave me anything to approve. I’m just handling speaker rental.”

Heero stared, not suspicious, just waiting to see what would follow.

Trowa undid the sleeve strap, then re-tied it. This time, successfully.

“I’ve been debating which LED lights to use. Leaning toward purple-orange ones that sync with music, but Duo said they look like Halloween.”

“…So Duo added the names himself.”

“Almost certainly.” Trowa nodded. “I think he was on a sugar high.”

“Sugar?”

“Strawberry cake. Two-layer frosting. He ate three slices.”

Heero didn’t know how to respond. A second later, he walked off. No thanks, no reaction, just left. But his shoulders were no longer tense.

Trowa watched him go, then pulled out his phone. A message from Duo blinked on the screen:

"Heero asked yet? Don’t sell me out TT_TT"

Trowa replied:

"I’m honest. You’re dumb."

Meanwhile, Duo was in the back courtyard, pretending to be busy setting up the party tent with a few classmates.

He was all smiles and small talk until he saw Heero approaching from the gym. His eyes twitched slightly. Then, like always, he put on his “I’m absolutely innocent” grin.

“Aha, the star of the party! Come to give your input in person?”

Heero said nothing. No words needed just a steady look.

“Alright, alright. If you’re here about the list then… yeah, maybe I accidentally added your name. But hey…”

Duo raised his hands in mock surrender, “…if I didn’t do it, who else would bring drama to the event?”

Still silent. But it was a silence that clearly meant: Don’t push.

Duo sighed, nudging a classmate nearby: “Hey, where’s Wufei? Tell him Heero has a disciplinary complaint to file.”

Then back to Heero: “You know, if you get this mad, people will think I was right. That’s the real tragedy.”

Without waiting, Duo walked off toward the classroom block, leaving Heero standing among half-finished tent poles.

Heero exhaled, not a sigh, but the release of some nameless pressure. Quatre had been right: if it wasn’t dangerous, then it was something… solvable.

But in the end, what troubled Heero was no longer his own name…

It was the other one beside it.

That name. Why did it not let him look away?

Heero stood in the courtyard, where the party atmosphere was slowly taking shape frame by frame, color by color. He no longer felt the urge to interrogate. Quatre was right, this wasn’t a threat.

He looked at the colored ribbons, the lights being trialed on the metal frame. Then back at the phone screen.

Two names side by side, ordinary, quiet.

And, for the first time, He let them stay there.

No crossing out and denial. Just silence… and acceptance.

-----------------in the quiet southern garden-------------------

Relena sat in the deepest corner of the southern garden, where the afternoon sunlight lingered only in faint streaks beneath the canopy of leaves. The garden wasn’t central to the school, nor was it a place people often visited. It had been designed as a quiet, separate retreat, with worn stone paths circling a small pond where a fountain carved in the shape of an angel stood, surrounded by neatly trimmed crescent-shaped shrubs. The white roses were in season, blooming in pure clusters, their soft fragrance carrying the cool freshness of morning dew, even though it was already late in the day.

On a gray oak bench beneath a flowering trellis, Relena sat alone. Her back straight, hands folded quietly in her lap, a neatly folded piece of paper beside her, but her eyes never left it. The hem of her uniform skirt shifted gently in the breeze, and her golden hair sunlit like late summer, fine as silk, fell softly behind her, catching lightly on the trailing vines hanging from the wooden beams above.

In that light, her hair seemed to melt into the garden, as though this place had been created as a backdrop just for her presence.

She didn’t open the paper again. It wasn’t necessary. That name beside hers didn’t need to be reread, it had been imprinted in her mind from the moment Dorothy had held it out to her, with that half-smile and openly teasing gaze.

For a moment, Relena had wondered if it had been him who agreed to it. But the thought passed quickly, like a thin cloud. She knew he wasn’t the kind to get involved in social events much less someone who’d voluntarily sign up for a party. If it were him, he would’ve said something. Or perhaps not said anything, but he certainly wouldn’t have snuck his name onto a list. That wasn’t his way.

The anger came quickly. And just as quickly, it passed.

She closed her eyes briefly and let out a slow breath. In her mind, the image surfaced—messy hair, a half-mocking grin, and a voice that always hovered somewhere between jest and sincerity: Duo. She didn’t need to think long. If anyone had impulsively added both their names to that list, without warning, without asking… it would be him.

She didn’t need proof. His personality was proof enough.

Part of her wanted to get up immediately, to go find Duo and demand an explanation. But she didn’t. Perhaps because… deep down, it didn’t really surprise her. With Duo, anything could happen. And as for herself, Relena suddenly realized that seeing that name next to hers no longer stirred the same reaction it once did.

She glanced at the paper again. The lines of text printed clearly. No typos. No mistake.

She didn’t like attention. Nor did she enjoy being the subject of whispered rumors, in class or across the school. But if it had to happen… and if the person standing beside her in those whispers was him... Relena was still waiting for herself to admit that she didn’t hate the thought.

Even if it was just a party list. Even if it might be nothing more than one of Duo’s silly pranks.

That feeling remained. Light as the scent of flowers in the breeze, but not easily shaken.

A soft footstep stirred the leaves, Relena knew who it was from the faint trace of perfume and the graceful walk that never made a sound. Dorothy appeared behind her, as if she’d been standing there for a while.

“The princess Peacecraft, all alone in the garden. What a tragic sight! Don’t tell me you’re heartbroken?”

Relena didn’t turn. She only smoothed her hair with one hand, her voice calm.

“If it’s you, then you already know why.”

Dorothy laughed, stepping closer, her dress barely rustling.

“Well, of course I do. But I still want to hear you admit it. Are you sulking because the name of some handsome boy suddenly appeared beside yours?”

Relena glanced at the paper. Didn’t answer.

“He didn’t do it. I’m sure.”

“Obviously it was Duo. You’ve figured that out, haven’t you?”

Dorothy sat down beside her, propping her chin on her hand as she gazed at the fountain.

“But still… if you really didn’t want this to happen, why are you sitting here holding the list like it’s some sort of keepsake?”

Relena said nothing.

She could’ve asked the student council to remove the names. She could’ve submitted a revised list. But she hadn’t.

Dorothy tilted her head, smiling with mischief.

“Maybe my darling little one is secretly hoping to stand next to him at that ridiculous party?”

Relena turned to look at her, saying nothing.

“Oh, don’t give me that look like I’m saying something outrageous. But there’s something you should know.”

Dorothy stood up, gently dusting off her dress.

“He definitely didn’t put his name there himself. But I don’t think… he minds that it’s next to yours.”

Before Relena could reply, Dorothy was already gone, disappearing behind the trellis. And in Relena’s lap, a white rose petal had just fallen, caught on the fabric of her skirt.

She lifted it gently, no thorns, soft as breath.
Or maybe … just the wind.

Chapter Text

Heero returned to class just as the school bell rang. The scraping of chairs, the rustling of shoes on tiled floors, quiet laughter… it all passed by like a blurred painting. No one spoke to him, only a few furtive glances, and an atmosphere that hovered somewhere between expectation and caution.

He stepped in, sat down quietly, and began packing up his books as usual, every movement precise and efficient, not a gesture wasted, as if this classroom were nothing more than a technical stop along the way.

His fingers paused in the act of folding a notebook cover when a shadow appeared at the classroom door, Quatre.

A phone in his hand, the faint light of the screen reflected off his glasses, on it was the updated task schedule from the Student Council. His eyes were as gentle as ever yet today, tinged with something that resembled guilt, mixed with the quiet attentiveness of someone gauging the reaction of a boy who rarely let anything show.

Heero didn’t look up, but that presence alone made something in him hesitate. Quatre stepped a little inside, stopping right beside Heero’s desk. His voice lowered, just enough to be heard, a subtle respect for the space between them:

“The Principal personally approved it. Seems like he was… very interested in the temporary list.” He paused.

“…So much that he asked to expand the event into a cross-department party for the whole school. The official organizing team will be restructured. The old list… is no longer valid.”

A brief silence not from surprise, but because Heero was waiting for one more detail, the only detail that made this information truly worth noting. Finally, he looked up, his gaze met Quatre’s calm, but with something in his eyes beginning to stir.

“Him?”

Quatre didn’t flinch, he nodded slightly, gaze steady.

“Relena’s father.”

Just that words, but in that moment, it was as if the air around Heero paused for a second. His eyes narrowed slightly, barely perceptible, unless one knew him well. Quatre saw it and said nothing more for now.

Inside Heero, something shifted. Not because he feared being dragged into a social event that, he had anticipated. But because the name “Relena’s father” carried a weight of its own. He didn’t understand the man behind that title, only knew that he watched, he intervened, and nothing around Relena ever truly escaped his reach.

His thoughts drifted to that afternoon, the southern garden, golden hair under the tilt of leaves, her eyes lifted toward him in a windless hour. He wasn’t sure why that image resurfaced…but it came like a quiet wave, nudging gently at something just formed.

Quatre remained standing, unhurried, as if giving Heero time to recalibrate his thoughts.

“I know you don’t like things like this,” he continued, his voice lower.

“But still… maybe this time, it won’t be all bad.”

It wasn’t comfort. It didn’t need to be advice. It was simply Quatre’s way: he stood beside you, not in front of you.

Heero didn’t reply, but the tension in his shoulders eased, just a little.

Quatre glanced around the nearly empty classroom. The late afternoon light glowed against the window frame. Then he added, more as a quiet reminder than a news report, that Heero wasn’t entirely alone in this chaotic world:

“Duo’s outside putting up a stage in the back yard…didn’t ask anyone, of course. But oddly enough, he seems to be doing quite a good job.”

Heero frowned, unsure whether it was annoyance or resignation toward a familiar truth.

“Trowa’s still part of the organizing team,” Quatre went on, his tone softening.

“Today he discussed the lighting system with the Art class. Seems like he cares a lot about stage lighting… even if he won’t say it outright.”

Heero gave a small nod, a rare gesture of acknowledgment.

“And Wufei,” Quatre chuckled lightly, “is arguing with the head organizer about how the party must end by 9 p.m. to ensure students get home on time.”

For the first time, Heero let out a faint smile tiny, fleeting as smoke. Not because what Quatre said was particularly amusing, but because… all of it was undeniably them.

Each of the group, in some way, had gotten involved in a story that was gradually growing. A story he once thought was meaningless, but now… He realized he couldn’t stay entirely outside of it anymore.

Quatre said nothing further, he nodded slightly, then turned to leave, leaving Heero alone in the now-quiet classroom. But the emptiness no longer felt as barren as before.

Heero sat back down, one hand gripping his bag strap, the other resting on the desk, as if hesitating over something still unnamed. In the slanting light of dusk, something within him began to shift slowly, deeply, but unmistakably.

------------------over a year ago--------------------

That ridiculous fishing trip, neither of the two men ever brought it up again. It was an early autumn morning, the lake surface still and flat like a mirror. A cool, gentle light reflected off the silvery-grey sky, casting a glow on the water that made time itself seem to pause. Odin sat on one side; the unfamiliar man sat on the other. They shared the same fishing boat, separated by an empty wooden bench in the middle, untouched, unspoken of. No one moved, no one suggested sitting closer.

One sat in silence like a stone, the other spoke non-stop, not to break the quiet, but to hold on to something fragile.

They stayed like that for hours and caught nothing at all.

“Because neither of those stubborn fools would change the bait,” your father once said, as if it were some kind of victory, with a hint of mockery in his tone.

“And each one thought the other would give in first.”

At the time, Heero couldn’t understand why his father agreed to meet with a complete stranger, let alone the chairman of a corporation. He didn’t understand, either, why the man would sit silently by the lake all morning, only to catch nothing.

But Odin understood perfectly. Patience or stubbornness was a kind of language men like him used to understand one another.

When the sun finally began to touch the distant treetops, the other man spoke, almost like a sigh:

“I’m Vice. I have a daughter... far too headstrong. Every teacher gives up on her, tutors don’t last....she won’t listen to anyone.”

Odin didn’t respond, he simply lifted his fishing rod, then lowered it again. Silent as stone.

“Can’t tell if I should feel sympathy or run the other way,” Vice murmured. “My kid’s no better.”

“Doesn’t like being told what to do,” Odin finally spoke, his voice low and steady. “Especially if they think the other person has nothing worth learning.”

They said nothing more for a long while. Then Vice chuckled, not sadly, not out of frustration, but as if he’d grown used to the helplessness of a father resorting to talking about his child in the middle of a fishing trip.

After that, the conversation shifted, slowly to work, to life. And then the man mentioned the name Peacecraft  and the fact that he ran one of the world’s largest robotic software corporations, now starting to expand into automated medical systems.

Odin’s eyes once a soldier’s, now an independent engineer’s changed in an instant. Not out of ambition, but out of caution for a man who lived simply, who worked on his own terms, and who had long stopped putting faith in any kind of power structure, the name Peacecraft stirred something between unease and a quiet urge to retreat.

“So… you’re the Chairman?” he asked.

Vice simply nodded and smiled.

“But today, I’m just a father, trying to catch a few fish with another father. No one knows we’re here, no speeches, no titles between us.”

“Pretty sure there aren’t any fish here,” the man in the light-colored coat chuckled, leaning back against the seat. “Told you so.”

“That’s alright,” Odin replied, his eyes still calmly fixed on the lake. “I didn’t expect to catch anything anyway.”

A quiet pause settled between them not awkward, just... quiet. As if both men were used to meetings that didn’t need many words.

“My daughter, Relena… she’s transferring schools soon,” the other man, the Chairman of Peacecraft Corporation began. His voice sounded like he was speaking to himself.

“She’ll start next term, officially enrolled in the school I run.”

Odin tilted his head slightly but said nothing.

“She never really got along with her tutors,” the Chairman continued, absently fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.

“The complaints are always the same: distracted, dreamy, doesn’t follow any structured plan. But her grades are oddly fine. The problem isn’t knowledge, the problem is… I don’t understand her.”

“Hard to feel at ease.” Odin nodded not quite agreeing, more like acknowledging something he already understood.

The Chairman smiled faintly and nodded back.

“She’s stubborn, quiet, and not easy to reach. Maybe… she’s like me.”

He took a white envelope from his coat pocket and placed it gently on the wooden table fixed between them, next to Odin’s beer can. Written neatly on the envelope, in careful handwriting, was: Heero Yuy. Below it was the seal of Peacecraft Corporation.

“I was going to send this through the front desk,” he said.

“But since we’re here, this seems easier.”

Odin glanced at it but didn’t touch the envelope.

“A private tutor for Relena. I’ve reviewed the boy’s record... thoroughly. He’s a student at my school, in the STEM specialization. Better than any candidate I’ve come across.”

“You knew he was my son from the start,” Odin said, eyes still on the lake.

The Chairman smiled. “And I knew you were Odin Yuy. I don’t choose people based on transcripts alone.”

“To be honest…” Odin leaned back against the seat, silent for a long while. It might’ve been half a minute or more.

Then finally, he nodded slightly and said in a low voice, “I’m not the kind of man who drags his kid into personal ties just to gain something. My son deserves only what he chooses for himself.”

“And if he doesn’t choose it?”

Odin let out a dry laugh. “Then I’ll make him go. So he can figure out for himself what’s worth staying for.”

“Oh, I know.” The Chairman didn’t miss a beat. “I’m offering this because I need to not out of favor or privilege. It’s just that... I believe Relena needs someone who won’t be swept up by her emotions. Someone who can stay silent in the face of her silence.”

The wind skimmed across the lake, making the reeds tremble gently. Odin still didn’t reach for the envelope.

“I have a son,” he said slowly, voice nearly hoarse under the sun.

“He’s too stubborn. Almost no one can teach him anything unless he chooses to take it in. If I push him… he goes so quiet it’s like he disappears from the world.”

The Chairman said nothing, just nodded as if he understood.

“Maybe…” Odin murmured, almost to himself, “he needs someone who’ll drive him a little mad.”

He picked up the envelope, looked at it for a moment, then slipped it into his coat pocket. 

“I’ll give it to him. Whether he accepts it, that’s up to him. And the money… don’t worry about it. If he agrees, just call it pocket money.”

A new breeze swept across the lake, the fishing rods remained still, the water stayed as calm as it had been that morning. The two men sat there, each with his own thoughts. But one thing was clear even if they caught nothing, the morning had not been wasted.

—---------------At Yuy's Home------------------

A soft golden light spilled from the desk lamp, spreading gently across the worn wooden surface. The shelves were lined with technical books, a few volumes of poetry, and some quiet, dust-covered mementos.

Odin sat behind the desk, wiping down an old fishing rod out of habit, a motion almost meaningless.

Heero, just returning home, passed by the door when he heard his father’s voice call out: “Heero. Come in for a minute.”

Heero stepped in and stood quietly near the door. Odin looked up at his son half serious, half amused then pulled a cream-colored envelope from the desk drawer and laid it on the table as if presenting some strange contract.

“Peacecraft sends an invitation. They want you to tutor their daughter.”

Heero frowned, stepped forward, opened the letter. Barely a third of the way in, he gave a curt response: “No.”

Odin didn’t look surprised, just gave a soft chuckle.

“Just as I expected.”

“Peacecraft has no shortage of talented people. Why would they need a student who’s still in school?”

“I asked the same thing,” Odin said.

“He told me he was looking for someone who wouldn’t be easily swayed. Someone who could teach his daughter without being spun around like a toy.”

“The pay’s good, too,” he added. “Each session’s worth about three months of your allowance.”

Heero sat down in the chair across from him, expression still cool.

“I’m not a babysitter and I don’t need the money.”

Odin smirked, a glint of teasing in his eye.

“Then keep it. Don’t spend it. Just… enjoy looking at it.”

Heero said nothing. Odin leaned back in his chair and let out a soft breath.

“Last time I went fishing with Mr. Peacecraft, the sky stayed gray the whole day. No fish bit, the tea went cold. Two old men just sat there talking about their kids,” Odin said.

“He told me his daughter learns fast, but can’t stand hearing anything repeated more than three times. She’s already driven off three...or five tutors.”

Heero stayed silent, but his hand moved away from the envelope.

“He said he needs someone calm, not easily thrown off. I told him I knew a kid who doesn’t need to be controlled because he’s too busy being mad at the world on his own.”

Odin smiled, then spoke again, his tone lower this time as if setting down something that mattered:

“I’m not forcing you but I’m not asking for permission, either. If you’re going to say no, you’ll need a better reason than ‘I don’t like it.’”

“I don’t want to get pulled into someone else’s life.”

“Mm.” Odin nodded slowly.

“But sometimes… the people who bother us the most are the ones who end up changing us. Who knows maybe my stubborn son needs someone who’ll drive him a little crazy.”

Heero looked up, their eyes met in a still, quiet moment.

“If you truly can’t do it, then walk away. But if you never even try… you’ll never know what it is you’re avoiding.”

No one said anything after that, only the soft amber light cast its quiet glow over the desk where the envelope still lay, weightless. But waiting as if for a choice clear enough to break the silence.

---------------------------

Heero once thought he would resent that bond forever. He despised interference, hated the entanglements of social expectations, and found it unthinkable almost insulting to be made to tutor the daughter of the Peacecraft family: a name tied to fame, to the sterile world of medical tech that felt distant, flashy, and devoid of warmth.

But now, nearly a year later, as he stepped through that familiar quiet window frame, passed the hallway with its scent of old wood and the soft glow spilling across the threshold, he no longer felt irritated.

Just… at peace.

No one reminded him to come, gave orders. And yet, every evening, right on time, Heero showed up.

Maybe because even he didn’t realize: somewhere along the way, her presence, a girl, a room, the soft scratch of pen on paper had become a kind of balance so subtle that without it, the night felt strangely hollow.

Relena was there, she didn’t look up but Heero knew she’d heard the door. She always did hair falling to one side, chin resting on her hand, eyes paused above a sentence left unfinished. She didn’t look up, didn’t smile in greeting.

Heero closed the door behind him, not a word. But tonight, his footsteps were just a little slower, a little lighter.

He sat down beside her, and the lesson began, like every other evening.

Only this time… something inside him wasn’t quite the same. As if, finally, he understood why his father had spent hours by that still, silent lake even when he never caught a thing.

Chapter Text

Heero’s room wasn’t spacious, but it was so orderly it felt like no one truly lived there. The desk lamp cast a soft amber glow over neatly stacked books, dustless toolboxes, and a wall clock whose hands moved with a quiet, unwavering rhythm.

The letter still lay in the drawer, untouched. He hadn’t opened it. Three hours had passed, and he was still sitting there not because of homework, but as if waiting for something, or someone, to make a decision on his behalf.

“I don’t need the money.”

The words echoed back like a voice in an empty hallway. He had said them firmly that afternoon, yet now, he wasn’t so sure what exactly he was pushing back against: the tutoring job, the name Relena Darlian Peacecraft, or the way his father had said, “If you’re going to refuse, you’ll need a better reason than just not liking it…”

Heero lifted his head, eyes drifting to the window. A crescent moon hung quietly among the bare branches in the backyard. The house was silent just like it had been when he was young, when it was only him and his father. But now he was old enough to recognize something: that silence wasn’t empty. It held his father’s presence, constant and unobtrusive, never needing many words.

He opened the drawer, took out the envelope.

The paper felt slightly coarse under his fingertips. The golden wax seal, embossed with the Peacecraft crest, was still intact. This wasn’t the kind of thing sent to an ordinary high school student, not with paper that thick, not with ink that looked as though it had been signed with both responsibility and expectation.

Heero sat for a long time before tearing the seal. Instead, he reached for a letter opener and carefully slid it under the flap, slowly, as if he didn’t want to harm even a corner of the page.

Inside was a single sheet smooth, in a muted shade of brown. In the top-left corner, the silver-stamped emblem of the Peacecraft Corporation was pressed neatly into the paper.

Heero didn’t often receive handwritten letters, least of all from someone as powerful and influential as the chairman of the school he was attending.

“...I don’t care about results. I just hope we can begin with listening. If necessary, feel free to drive her a little crazy. I believe she’ll be fine.”

Heero paused, his eyes stopped at the final line. That wasn’t the tone of a formal recruitment letter, it was a father’s voice not his own father’s, but the kind of father Heero could almost imagine… if what Odin had told him was true.

He knew nothing about Relena, except that her name sounded like a title. But that line “I believe she’ll be fine” made him stop. As if, amidst all the prestige and pressure, someone else out there was also alone, expected to figure things out on their own.

That night, Odin didn’t say another word. He merely tapped his fingers lightly against the stair railing as he passed Heero’s room like he already knew how it would all unfold.

Perhaps what bothered Heero most was that his father did know.

A week later, he knocked on the Peacecrafts’ door. And it was Relena who opened it.

He doesn’t quite remember what he said. Only that, in that first moment, the girl standing in front of him looked nothing like the “Peacecraft” he had imagined.

Not distant or poised. Just someone who seemed more unsure than even he was.

--------------------------

The faint buzz of the phone pulled Heero back to the present.

On the screen, Quatre’s message was still open:

"Quick meeting tomorrow morning. Whole school’s attending the party. Chairman approved. And… your name’s right at the top of the list."

Heero froze for a few seconds, not in shock. There was no familiar flare of resistance either. He let out a quiet breath, turned the phone face down on the desk, his thumb brushing the edge of the device as if trying to mute the echo of the message and its weight lingering in his mind.

Outside the window, the night wind stirred the leaves, quiet and indifferent.

The kind of cold that reminds you some things will happen whether you want them to or not. Like the way his name ended up on that list. He hadn’t chosen it but he wasn’t surprised anymore.

Just like that night. That first evening he stepped into this room, the way he had knocked on that door for the first time, telling himself it wouldn’t be for long.

And yet, here he was still sitting here facing her.

The scratching of the pen suddenly stopped. Heero tilted his head slightly. He didn’t need to look closely to know Relena’s hand had just frozen mid-motion.

A faint sound came from her side, a soft sniffle, barely audible. It was unclear whether from a cold or… something else. Her hand propped against her forehead, eyes locked on the page in front of her.

Less than two seconds later, she leaned forward and hastily scribbled out a formul, so rushed, it defied all logic. As if she were challenging the rules of mathematics, or him.

A silent provocation, perhaps… a quiet call.

Relena didn’t look up, she angled her body slightly away, her gaze dropping not onto anything in particular, just downward. She didn’t ask or offer. Only that subtle evasion, as if trying to keep something fragile inside from spilling out.

Heero didn’t ask either, he didn’t need answers. He simply reached for the red pen, pulled the paper toward him, his voice was low, steady, devoid of emotion:

“You flipped the sign here.”

No blame and sarcasmm, just someone doing what he was supposed to though something inside him no longer felt quite the same.

Relena stared at the red mark he had made: a single, precise line cold and clean, like the boundary between what she could say and what she needed to keep to herself. Her lips pressed into a thin line, no protest and explanation.

Heero waited a moment, then began rewriting the correct formula step by step, transformation by transformation slow, precise as if rebuilding a small order amid the quiet disarray in the room. He didn’t look up.

But somehow, he could sense it, that gaze, quietly inching its way toward him. From her side, the angle was cautious, tilted, yet unflinching. Heero didn’t turn but his hand paused, just briefly. Not because he was being watched but because he realized, he was being seen.

He kept writing without words, no shift in expression. Yet the distance between them he could feel it changing, not quite closer, but no longer as far as before.

Relena eventually looked away. She returned to her pen, jotting down a few short notes, as if trying to piece back together the thread of study that had unraveled somewhere along the way. Her hand kept pace, steady but her eyes… no longer fully there.

Heero kept looking openly, without trying to hide it even though he didn’t quite understand why he hadn’t looked away. There was something in her eyes he didn’t want to lose, something vague, fleeting, but enough to make him unable to turn away like he always did. He wanted… her eyes to stay on him, always on him. That thought came so suddenly it caught even him off guard. Why was it like that? Since when had these study sessions stopped being just study sessions? And when did he start remembering the smallest things like the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the crease of her brow, the way she unconsciously bit her pen when thinking?

He tightened his grip on the pen, in his mind, Odin’s deep voice echoed again, the same line repeated more times than he could count: “Don’t let emotions lead you too far.” That sentence had always grounded him, kept him from unnecessary detours. But now, it felt more like a reminder that didn’t quite work anymore. He wasn’t sure, because if he really had control over his emotions, then why did he still remember those eyes, even after leaving this room? And why, every time she turned away, did something feel… missing?

Heero looked away, but slower than usual. He bent over the notebook, continuing the solution, his voice, when he spoke, remained steady pure logic, no emotion but his thoughts no longer followed the old path. Something in him had quietly turned, just slightly, just softly, but enough to make everything feel different.

The last problem was finally solved. The numbers sat neatly in their boxes, straight and clear, as if no distraction had ever crept in. Heero set his pen down, capping it with a firm but unhurried motion. He glanced sideways, Relena was still writing the last line, her handwriting even and composed again, like always. No longer confused and avoiding his gaze.

She closed her notebook gently, just like she always did, then turned to him. Her expression was calm, but the corners of her lips lifted just slightly. It wasn’t clear whether out of politeness or something else, but it was enough to soften the entire room. She stood up, kept a respectful distance, and her blue eyes no longer shied away like before, they looked straight at him.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, her voice so light it almost dissolved into the breeze drifting through the window. A simple phrase, yet it echoed in Heero’s mind longer than it should have. No one mentioned the party, there was no need to.

Heero simply nodded in response, then gathered his books with his usual care. His footsteps were even, unhurried, but as he reached the door, he paused and glanced back. Relena was still there, by the desk, tidying up a few loose pages. The lamp behind her cast a long shadow on the floor, pulling with it a quiet, unnamed feeling that tugged at something in him.

There was nothing extraordinary about that evening. No unnecessary words, no details beyond the bounds of a normal study session. And yet, Heero knew something had shifted, just slightly like the way she had looked at him, like that faint smile she left behind as the door closed softly at his back.

Before stepping off the hallway, Heero stopped briefly to acknowledge the woman standing by the second-floor railing.

Relena’s mother had always existed in this house like a soft presence tonight, she appeared unexpectedly, as if waiting for just that moment. She wore a pale silk blouse, her hair pinned neatly up, her gaze as gentle as dusk. She didn’t say much, just nodded once in quiet gratitude, then spoke in that familiar low, warm voice:

“Tell him to come home early.”

Heero paused. The sentence… had no clear context and subject. And it didn’t match anything that had happened during the evening. His brow furrowed slightly. He turned, waiting for some clarification.

But the woman simply smiled, serene, and gave the slightest nod, as if that was all she intended to say. No further explanation, no emphasis, and no correction. Strangely, the ambiguity didn’t irritate Heero. It just… left him puzzled.

He gave a small bow in response, then continued down the stairs. Below, Pagan was already waiting by the main door still dressed in his usual dark suit sharp, composed, untouched by time. The hallway light glinted off the silver rims of his glasses, lending his face a crisp precision, though his voice remained calm as ever:

“The car is ready out front, as always, Master Heero.”

Heero nodded, murmured a quiet thank you. He took the bag from Pagan’s hand and stepped out through the heavy wooden doors whose hinges he had long grown familiar with.

The night breeze was cool, rustling softly across the wide, still courtyard. The car was there, silent and proper, like part of a well-rehearsed routine. But beyond the porch light and the slanted tree shadows, there was no sign of the house’s master, still absent as always.

Heero climbed into the car and settled into his seat. As the door closed behind him, his mind drifted back to Relena’s mother’s words: “Tell him to come home early.” A simple sentence, yet it lingered oddly like something spoken at the wrong time, or perhaps the right time, but in the wrong context.

He wondered had she meant her husband? Or… someone else?

But the car had begun to move, gliding past the tall iron gates, and Heero didn’t ask. Just as he hadn’t asked anything during the entire study session.

He had said nothing, but all the things left unsaid somehow remained quietly, somewhere inside that house.

-----------------------

The night had grown late, and the road leading to Heero’s home was quiet as usual. The shadows of the trees lining the street stretched long under the dull yellow light. The car turned slowly into the gate and stopped in front of the small house with its low eaves where everything was always neat, stable, and in a way... solitary.

But tonight, something felt off.

Heero stepped out of the car, his eyes instantly locking onto the black vehicle parked just outside the yard. Long frame, dark tinted windows no diplomatic plates, yet clearly not the kind of car one would expect to find in this neighborhood. He stopped, tilted his head slightly, eyes darkening for a brief moment. That old instinct sharpened back during his days in the training facility, vague but never wrong suddenly stirred.

Normally, there were no guests at his house and certainly never strangers waiting. He stepped into the yard. Under the porch, two men in black shirts, neatly tucked and buttoned, stood straight like guards, they turned immediately as they saw him.

“Mr. Yuy?” one of them asked, voice polite, though not entirely serious.

Heero gave a short nod, his gaze narrowing. “Where’s my father?”

The second man, taller, hand resting on his hip, answered with a tone that was both respectful and faintly amused, as if suppressing a smile: “Ah yes, Mr. Yuy is very sociable, sir.”

That sentence made Heero pause, not because of what was said, but because of how easily it had been delivered. Sociable, that wasn’t a word people usually used to describe his father especially not in situations that already felt too arranged for comfort.

One of the men stepped toward the door, opened it, and gestured for him to enter. The door swung open and immediately, noise spilled out. The boisterous sound of football commentary from the TV, mixed with lively chatter, full of energy that felt completely out of place in a house known for its silence.

Heero crossed the threshold slowly. He wasn’t used to this kind of noise in his home. Not at this hour, not with strangers in the yard, not with the way his father lived, quiet, restrained, always distant from these kinds of social entanglements.

But then he heard that voice.

A man’s voice, deep and clear, strangely familiar. The kind of voice that carried weight and confidence, yet softened, as if lowered on purpose to fit into the warmth of casual conversation. Just one passing sentence was enough for Heero to recognize it.

It was the voice of Chairman Peacecraft.

Heero had heard it once before during the school’s opening ceremony, broadcast across the campus through powerful speakers. A voice formal, commanding, meant to set the tone for a new academic year. But now… that same voice was echoing in his own living room, carried between bursts of open laughter and the faint sound of a soccer ball rolling across a screen.

Heero’s heartbeat slowed by half a beat, he stood still on the threshold, one hand still on the strap of his bag, eyes fixed on the hallway leading to the living room where warm light spilled out, and where that familiar voice continued, stripped now of ceremony.

He stepped inside.

The soft yellow glow lit the dark carpet, the worn leather couch, and the faint scuffs on the wooden armrests. On the table, a tea tray still let off steam, beside a few beer cans already opened, the television on the wall kept playing a football match, its commentary rolling on in the background but what stopped Heero mid-step was the pair of eyes watching him: steady, quiet, as though they had already seen straight through every thought that stirred in him at the door.

Chairman Peacecraft turned at the sound of his footsteps. His gray eyes held a glint, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

“You’re back, Heero,” he said lightly, like he was greeting the son of an old friend not the student who had just spent the past hour tutoring his daughter in a room cloaked in silence.

Heero didn’t answer immediately, his glance flicked toward his father.

Odin turned and said calmly, “You’re just in time. Say hello to the Chairman.”

Heero straightened. Slowly, he turned to the man, though the chill in his gaze was unmistakable.

“I thought you weren’t the type to force things on others, Chairman.”

The Chairman raised an eyebrow, as if finding the remark… endearing.

“I only signed the list. The students were the ones who did the rest.”

He paused, then added quietly, “But I know that’s not what you’re really upset about.”

Odin leaned back, arms crossed, oddly at ease. The soccer match still played on the TV, but its noise had receded into the distance.

Heero’s grip tightened on his bag strap. It wasn’t the list, or the party, it was the creeping sense of having been played and more than that, it was the thought that Relena had been part of it.

“You let your daughter get pulled into this… just to corner me?”

“If that’s what you believe… then I apologize,” the Chairman said softly, eyes steady.

“But Relena isn’t someone easily led. I’ve never ordered her to do anything. Just as I’ve never given you any orders either.”

Heero looked straight at him for the first time not as a student.

“I don’t like it when adults use roundabout ways to get what they want.”

The Chairman gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“You really are like him. That year, when Odin and I sat by the lake for three hours and caught nothing, I already knew I had met someone rare someone who dared to speak the truth. Just like you now.”

Heero clenched his fists, saying nothing. In his mind, the lady's voice from earlier that afternoon echoed: “Tell him to come home early, will you?”

Back then, he didn’t understand, now he did.

“She told you to go home early,” Heero said quietly, but firmly. He turned away, walking off without waiting for a farewell. But before disappearing beyond the stairs, he glanced back briefly, his eyes no longer angry, just… tired.

“I’ll go. But not for either of you.” He walked away, leaving the two men alone in the room.

Odin slowly lifted his cup of tea, unrushed. “He’s more blunt than I expected.”

The Chairman chuckled, but not loudly. “Even more than you used to be.”

“I suppose… after that fishing trip, you went home and told your wife, ‘That boy’s got potential' didn’t you?”

“Something like that.” The Chairman placed his teacup down. His voice softened.

“But I didn’t expect he’d care for Relena that much.”

Odin didn’t reply. He only looked out through the window, where the city lights had just flickered on.

“There are things… he has to figure out on his own.”

The Chairman nodded. In the quiet moment that followed, the two men, two fathers were no longer a Chairman and a former soldier, but simply men who had lived long enough to know: some bonds don’t need names.

The Chairman smiled, speaking idly, “You once told me that boy of yours wasn’t the social type. I didn’t believe you until he looked at me like I was trespassing on his lawn.”

Odin let out a laugh, low and gravelly. “I told you. He’s like me. Just too stubborn to admit it.”

-----------------

The car engine had faded behind the trees. Heero remained still, back leaning against the chair, one leg resting over the other, eyes staring out the window, though his mind had long drifted far from the room.

Odin returned to his room, the heavy footsteps and the soft click of the door closing next door. Heero lowered his gaze, unlocked his phone, a message from Quatre:

“If you don’t want to go… I’ll talk to the student council. But Relena seems like… she’s waiting.”

He read it, then fell silent, only one thing resonated within him:

I’m changing.

And he didn’t know… what that meant. Heero lay back, the ceiling remained still, but within him, something had shifted.

Chapter Text

To Heero Yuy –

I write this letter not as a chairman, but simply as a father.

My daughter, Relena, will be transferring to Peacecraft High School next term. I'm aware this might raise a few eyebrows. She's always been headstrong, reserved, and somewhat... resistant to anyone she hasn't personally chosen to listen to.

I’ve spent quite some time looking for someone she can’t easily ignore. Perhaps not someone overly gentle but someone who knows how to be steady without being forceful.

I’ve heard about you not through grades, but through internal group evaluations, project reports, and little side notes from joint research tasks.

I debated for a while before writing this. Not because I fear rejection, but because I know you probably dislike being tied to anything resembling "a tutor for the Peacecraft heiress."

But this is an invitation not a political favor.

I’d like to ask you to become Relena’s tutor. Not to improve her academic record, but perhaps to spark some much-needed friction. Disagreements, silences, even tension—as long as patience remains.

...I don’t care about results. I just hope we can begin with listening. If necessary, feel free to drive her a little crazy. I believe she’ll be fine.

Sincerely,

Vice-Minister Peacecraft
(A father trying the last soft approach he knows)

--------------------------------

That morning, the sky held neither sun nor rain, a soft gray hue stretched across the campus, casting the stone steps leading up to the STEM lecture hall in a veil of mist. Heero stood silently on the second-floor corridor, leaning against the railing, his gaze fixed on the walkway that connected to the ECON building.

Over there, Relena was standing with Dorothy, Dorothy seemed to be telling an amusing story, her face animated, curls of hair falling gracefully with each deliberate tilt of her head, but Relena only smiled faintly, her eyes unfocused.

In her arms, she held a book pressed closely to her chest. Heero recognized it instantly.

It was the book he had lent her the previous week, an old paperback with a soft cover, some pages still marked with pencil. He wasn’t sure when she’d finished it, but for some reason, she hadn’t returned it. Not that he minded, he hadn’t brought it up.

Heero didn’t move closer, nor did he call her name. He simply stood there, like an outsider, his gaze drawn in by something vague and uncertain, his first instinct was to turn away, but his eyes wouldn’t let go. Why was Relena in the STEM building this morning? She belonged to the POLIS division, by now, she should’ve been in the North Wing.

A familiar voice spoke from behind him: “She came to see you.”

Heero didn’t turn around, he just listened to the soft, steady footsteps familiar as always. Quatre had a habit of showing up at the right moments, always knowing more than he said.

“Or maybe,” Quatre continued, tilting his head slightly to follow Heero’s line of sight: “she was just looking for an excuse to run into you.”

“Either way… it’s not for nothing that someone from POLIS ends up standing in the ECON hallway this early in the morning.”

Heero frowned slightly, but Quatre didn’t wait for a reaction. He simply smiled:

“Did you notice her hands? She wasn’t holding that book like it was something casual.”

Another voice cut in low, indifferent:

“Relena’s not good at hiding how she feels. She just stays quiet. And quiet people are often mistaken for strong ones.”

It's Trowa, no one had noticed when he arrived. He was now leaning casually against the stone pillar behind Quatre, his eyes half-lidded, as if watching out of mild amusement. He carried his usual air of detachment but his words always hit exactly where they should.

Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed from the opposite hallway. Duo appeared, ponytail high, walking with a bounce in his step, a half-open sandwich box in one hand. He was chewing contentedly, and looked up just in time to realize that everyone was… staring in his direction.

“Good morning, my cold-blooded gentlemen,” Duo grinned, either oblivious or pretending not to notice the collective glare aimed directly at him.

Heero looked at him, saying nothing, just one calm, almost unnervingly composed gaze. Not exactly angry but intense enough that Duo faltered mid-step.

“Ah, you mean the party list…? Everyone’s names were on it anyway… I just added a few for aesthetics,” Duo chuckled nervously, eyes darting. “It’s not like I… totally acted on impulse...”

“You’re really bad at making excuses.”

The voice came from the side entrance of the STEM wing. Wufei stepped out, his pace so relaxed it bordered on taunting, one shoulder still carried his half-zipped uniform jacket, while his other hand held a thick stack of practical robotics documents, the cover showing diagrams of next-gen motor joints, still smudged with machine oil.

He raised an eyebrow at Duo, looking thoroughly unimpressed:
“Sneaking around without being clever about it, then hiding behind a sandwich when you’re caught. I honestly don’t know why the student council ever lets you near official lists.”

Duo froze for a beat then burst into a sheepish laugh. 

“Come on, the student council should thank me! At least now the whole school has something to look forward to. It’s not every day the great Heero Yuy graces a social gathering, is it?”

As he spoke, he nudged Quatre lightly with his elbow, Quatre casually shifted to the side, hands in his pockets, like a misplaced shadow in the wrong scene.

Wufei sighed and shook his head.

“Well, what’s done is done. Might turn out fun.”

“At least I’m not the only one being dragged into this,” Duo quickly nodded, as if clinging to the only bit of support he could find.

“Heero, you’re really going, aren’t you?”

No one answered and not needed to.

Heero had already turned away, but his eyes still lingered toward the ECON hallway where Relena had just disappeared behind the frosted glass.

Duo glanced sideways at Quatre. “Does his silence mean yes?”

Trowa replied instead, expression unchanged: “With him, silence is usually more dangerous than agreement.”

Duo shivered slightly, clutching his sandwich box like a protective charm.

Wufei let out a quiet yawn and shifted the stack of papers into his other hand.

“If he is going, just make sure to keep me far away from the dance floor. I don’t spar with people wearing hard-soled shoes on wood.”

“I thought you were good at fencing?” Duo blinked.

“Fencing is fencing. Dancing is dancing. Don’t mix the two. It’s dangerous.”

That morning’s practical session took place in the ground-floor lab, a space bathed in cold white light from rows of fluorescent tubes reflecting off half-finished metal frames, giving the eerie impression of a morgue for robots that never quite made it to life. The hum of test motors echoed steadily, blending with the sharp scent of melting plastic and scorched wiring, a true industrial symphony.

Heero stood beside workstation number 3, where he and Wufei had been paired up since the beginning of the term. On the table was the wrist joint of their robot model stuck somewhere between life and death, waiting to be resurrected by two not-so-eager sets of hands.

Wufei leaned in, cautiously rotating the hydraulic motor. He frowned as the power light blinked weakly, like it was taking its final breath.

“You forgot to calibrate the resistor,” he said flatly, as if reading from a leave-of-absence request.

“I didn’t forget,” Heero replied, his hands steady over the microcircuit soldering. His voice was even, but his eyes… seemed distant.

“You messing with me?”

“No. Just rechecking the initial design.” A classic Heero answer, not wrong, but no one wanted to hear it.

Wufei raised an eyebrow, grunted under his breath, something like:

“Well, fine. I’ll let that slide… for now.”

They returned to work, communicating more through silence than words. But after a while, Wufei glanced sideways again, not because anything was misaligned this time, but because of Heero’s eyes. They were fixed on the model… and yet drifting somewhere else, that vague, unfocused kind of drifting, like his mind was swimming in a pool filled with pink party lights and robot-shaped birthday cakes.

“You seem… not here” Wufei noted.

Heero didn’t answer, he was fitting the arm frame into the shoulder joint, but he forced the bolt in at the wrong angle, locking it tight.

“The party again.” Wufei muttered, as if he’d just cracked a mystery that had lingered all week.

Right at that moment, from station five behind them, a sudden pop! rang out—sharp, clean, and loud enough to pause the entire lab for a beat. A thin trail of smoke rose into the air, gentle as morning mist, if morning mist smelled like melted plastic and sparking circuits.

“DUO!!!”

The shrill cry of a student pierced the room like a distress beacon in the desert. Duo, crouching in front of a circuit board, merely shrugged, still holding his soldering iron as if he’d just invented a new art movement.

“What? I was just reversing the polarity a little! If it’s that sensitive, that’s not my fault!”

From across the lab, the instructor brought a weary hand to his forehead with theatrical despair. The teaching assistant silently approached, holding a small fire extinguisher, as if it were part of some weekly ritual.

Wufei watched the smoke rise and slowly shook his head, like some kind of Eastern philosopher reflecting on human nature:

“I thank the universe every day I’m not in the same group as that guy.”

Heero didn’t respond. The final screw in his hand slipped from the tip of the screwdriver, dropped to the floor, and rolled once before vanishing into the chaos of moving feet and chair legs.

Their group project was technically complete, theoretically speaking. The model could stand, it could move… but it moved like something just waking up from a half-finished brain surgery.

No comments were exchanged, but Wufei’s glance had already begun calculating… for the next team reshuffle.

When the chime signaled the end of class, Heero removed his gloves, set his safety goggles on the table, and stood still for a few seconds as if even he wasn’t sure whether he had truly participated in that session.

His eyes fell on the model, now trembling faintly due to a calibration fault, then down to his own hand still carrying the scent of metal, yet missing its usual, grounded sense of familiarity. It felt like he had just finished something...but had no idea why he did it or even how.

Strange. He’d completed models ten times more complex than this: faster, cleaner, more precise. And yet, this morning, nothing held together neither the screws, nor his thoughts.

Heero frowned and turned away. This… wasn’t like him.

And the most irritating part was: he knew it.

When the lesson ended, Wufei strode out of the lab with the look of a man who had just survived a man-made catastrophe.Heero, on the other hand, took his time. He packed his things slowly, mind cold and still like a frozen lake. He lingered for a few more seconds, then turned not back to class, but toward the southern corridor.

A soft summer breeze brushed along the stone hallway, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and laurel blossoms from the rear garden. There, in the dappled shade of tall mahogany trees, Relena sat alone on a stone bench. An open book rested on her lap. She was reading or at least, she had been. Her eyes no longer followed the words. One hand turned a page, only to stop midway, as if it had brushed against a sentence too familiar to be real.

Heero approached, footsteps deliberately light, though she still looked up. The breeze tugged gently at the strands of hair along her cheek, her gaze wavered caught between surprise and something else.

He said nothing at first, just stood there for a moment, as if weighing whether he should stay.

“Do you want to sit?” Relena asked, her voice as quiet as the wind gliding over the grass.

Heero gave a small nod and sat beside her, leaving just enough space so it wouldn't feel too close, but not so much that it felt distant. Neither of them spoke. Between them, the only sound was the soft turning of a page.

“The chairman stopped by my house.”

Relena blinked. “My father?”

Heero nodded, eyes resting on the book in her hands. Relena tilted her head slightly, caught somewhere between curiosity and confusion. She wasn’t sure why he brought it up now, but the look in his eyes stopped her from asking.

“Relena.”

“Yes?”

“About the party… If you’re not going with anyone yet.”

He paused, gaze still fixed forward. “I was wondering… would you go with me?”

For a moment, she didn’t reply. Her eyes softened, narrowing slightly like when sunlight suddenly breaks through the clouds after a long rain.

She nodded, slowly, so softly it was barely a sound. “...Okay.”

Beneath her lashes, a smile began to form small, but impossible to hide.

“But you have to promise not to leave me halfway like during our study sessions.”

She tried to sound casual, but her eyes shimmered  like the surface of a lake trembling beneath the evening light.

Heero let out a quiet breath and nodded. “Alright.”

She closed the book. “Have you had lunch?”

“No.”

“Then… shall we go?”

She stood up, brushed the hem of her uniform skirt lightly, then waited. Heero rose as well, unhurried, they walked side by side along the narrow tree-lined path, where each falling leaf felt like a small ritual marking the beginning of something new.

The central cafeteria wasn’t as crowded as usual at noon, but it was noisy enough that anything slightly off-script would be noticed and there was nothing ordinary about Heero Yuy, the boy rumored to survive solely on fluorescent light and machine code, walking in alongside Relena Darlian Peacecraft, the princess of the POLIS division, who once declared she’d never attend any social event unless it was for “world peace.”

They lined up for trays, picked their meals, and walked together like it was the most natural thing in the world  prompting more than a few students to check the brightness settings on their screens, just to make sure they weren’t seeing things.

At a table near the window, Quatre sat with Trowa, Duo, and Wufei the “Gentlemen of STEM,” albeit not entirely by choice. Each of them had their own eating style: Wufei was busy analyzing the sodium content on a soy sauce packet, Trowa scribbled quietly on a napkin with a mechanical pencil between bites, and Duo held a skewer like it was a victory flag from some culinary conquest.

Only Quatre paused the moment Heero and Relena stepped into the cafeteria. In truth, his tray was still untouched, as if he'd been feeding himself through sheer willpower. He looked up, the expression in his eyes like that of a director witnessing the first performance of a play he himself had orchestrated. A faint smile crossed his lips. He exhaled, soft, satisfied and then, almost ceremoniously, poked his fork into his salad, as if rewarding himself for surviving long enough to see this scene play out.

Trowa raised a single brow without looking up. “So your Plan B worked.”

“Technically, that was Plan D. Plan B was trying to get Heero to go fishing with the chairman. But someone declined.”

Duo spoke with his mouth still half-full, rice threatening to betray him mid-sentence. He started to rise, animated as ever, but Quatre cut him off gently, but with unmistakable firmness.

“Duo, sit down. We mustn’t interfere with a delicate ecosystem in the midst of restructuring.”

Duo blinked. “You make me sound like a natural disaster.”

“You’re not,” Quatre replied smoothly.

“But in the early stages of a romantic development, you’re what we call… a destabilizing variable.”

Wufei scoffed. “What ecosystem? They look like two robots syncing after a firmware update.”

Trowa took a sip of water, his tone flat as ever.

“True. But this time, I think it’s a communication protocol patch.”

At the next table over, Dorothy giggled into her milk tea, stirring it lazily with her spoon. Her eyes followed Quatre’s group like she was watching an absurd period drama.

“Oh dear. The ice prince and the political princess.” she mused, loud enough for a few nearby girls to lean in discreetly.

“So the rumors about her mysterious bodyguard weren’t entirely fictional. I mean, he might as well be on her household registry at this point.”

The ripple was instant, phones emerged beneath tables. Angled shots, “candid” enough to look unplanned, were snapped and messages began flying across student group chats with captions like

BREAKING: Cafeteria Sightings—Confirmed.

As for Heero? He was unsurprisingly unfazed. Silent, unreadable, eyes straight ahead, he carried his tray beside Relena like a soldier on a supply run: precise, unwavering, no wasted motion. But Quatre noticed he always did that something in that stride had lightened and in the glance Heero cast toward Relena, there was something that no longer looked like defense.

Even once they sat side by side, Heero gave nothing overt away. But those who looked close enough would see the way he tilted his head slightly when Relena spoke to hear her better, or how he placed his dessert onto her plate without asking, like it had never belonged to him in the first place.

Relena, meanwhile, had finished her lunch without a single word of protest from Dorothy for the first time in days. And though she tried to keep her expression composed, the corner of her lips curved ever so slightly, like a silent melody playing just for her, never quite fading.

Wufei observed the scene, then looked down at his bowl of noodles. He exhaled.

“We’re about to lose a capable comrade.”

Duo spoke with mock regret. “At the very least, don’t let him fall into romantic idealism.”

Trowa continued eating, unfazed. “Too late.”

Quatre set his chopsticks down, eyes quietly drifting toward the newly-formed pair, his voice soft almost as if he were talking to himself:

“Everything’s falling into place.”

Duo snorted. “I’ll write a piece for the school paper: From the Lab to the Heart – A Love Story Sparked by a Robotic Wrist Joint.”

“And that piece,” Wufei said flatly, “will be censored before publication.”

“But forever archived in the school’s browser history,” Trowa added, face as unreadable as ever.

Quatre chuckled softly, eyes still fixed on Heero and Relena. There was something in his silence that felt like the overture... to a new chapter.

Chapter Text

Relena’s private study room at night remained wrapped in its usual hush, quiet, undisturbed. The only illumination came from a crystal desk lamp, casting a gentle, steady light across the wooden tabletop and the open pages of her books. The glow wasn’t too harsh, nor overly soft just enough to draw one's focus, or just as easily, to let the mind wander toward things far beyond the syllabus.

Heero turned a page, his fingertip tracing the line of print with quiet care, though his gaze had long since drifted left. Relena was taking notes, head slightly tilted. Her hair, unlike usual, wasn’t left loose tonight. She had loosely braided one side, the slim plait resting over her left shoulder, its end gently swaying in rhythm with the motion of her wrist.

He couldn’t quite explain why, but somehow, it was harder for Heero to look away from that simple braid than from the physics formulas laid open in front of him. At first, he didn’t even realize he was staring. It was only when the lamplight caught on a few stray strands near the tip of the braid like a quiet spark setting off a ripple of unease that Heero became aware of how long he’d been… watching.

Relena remained silent, she hadn’t said much since the session began, focusing intently, as if trying to smooth over the awkwardness from earlier in the day. Yet that very silence along with the new way she had done her hair made her feel somehow more distant... and, strangely, a little closer too.

Heero tried to return to the lesson, pen still in hand, but no words came. After a moment, he spoke softly, not to ask a question, but simply to fill the space between them.

“...Your hair.”

Relena tilted her head slightly. “Hm?”

Heero blinked, paused for a beat, then murmured, almost like a thought slipping out before it could be held back:

“Today... it’s different.”

Relena blinked once, then twice. Something flickered in her eyes: surprise, then realization, then a quiet flush rising to her cheeks. She didn’t answer, instead, she lowered her gaze, pretending to focus on her book, as if she hadn’t heard him at all but the smile at the corner of her lips betrayed her.

A gentle silence settled over the room and in that moment, without thinking, Heero reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against the braid, as if to confirm it wasn’t some trick of the light, the strands were soft, cool, and delicate to the touch. He touched them, then quickly withdrew his hand, just as swiftly as if he’d realized he’d crossed an invisible line.

Relena lifted her head to look at him. Her gaze held no reproach, no surprise only stillness, and a quiet warmth and then, she smiled no words were spoken.

Just then, the wooden door creaked open. Footsteps calm, measured, familiar sounded against the smooth floor. Pagan approached, gloved hands steady as always, his expression gentle, never in a hurry. In his arms, he carried a long box tied with a navy blue ribbon.

“Master Heero,” he said with a slight bow, “The Chairman requests that you attend the upcoming party in proper form. This is a coordinated ensemble, specially tailored for you and the young lady. I was asked to deliver it in advance so you may prepare accordingly.”

Heero sprang to his feet, stiffening as if someone had just placed a ticking time bomb on the desk. Relena turned away, half covering her face, but the smile that danced in her eyes gave her away completely.

“Thank you, Pagan,” she said softly and that alone was enough. Pagan nodded politely and withdrew, leaving behind a silence so awkward it bordered on endearing.

Heero set the gift box down on the table. It was a small gesture, yet to him, it felt as though he’d just laid down something he had never quite dared to name. He glanced over at Relena, for a brief second, something swelled in his throat, not words, but a quiet urge to acknowledge whatever it was that had been growing steadily inside him.

But her eyes were calm unexpectant, unassuming, still the same, quiet presence, like waves lapping gently against the shore.

He used to think that feelings only emerged when one wanted to reach out and touch something. But now, just standing here beside her, like this was enough to make him stay, unable to walk away with his heart untouched. There had been so many times he believed he understood the boundary between care and interference, between presence and attachment.

But with Relena, none of those definitions held. She didn’t do anything: cling, hint, or ask. And yet, that quiet stillness of hers made him want to say more than he thought he had within him.

Heero swallowed back whatever had risen to the surface, he couldn’t find words that felt enough. In the end, all he could manage was a small nod, as if apologizing for not being able to be more honest.

“Good night,” he said, voice low almost more of a wish for himself than for her.

Relena didn’t respond right away, she only looked at him, a gaze that neither held him back nor pushed him away. Quiet, like the lamp in this old room used to burning its light for someone else, never asking to be thanked.

Heero turned and reached for the doorknob, the space behind him was so silent, he almost believed he would leave as he always did, taking with him that familiar hush.

But then…

“Good night, Heero.”

Her voice soft as a strand of hair brushing against the wrist. Not loud, not clear but real enough to make his steps falter.

There was a smile on her lips small, very small just enough for him to notice, but not for anyone else to see. A smile made only for this moment, like a door left slightly ajar, letting the wind slip in by accident.

Heero said nothing more, he only looked longer than necessary. And in that brief second, something inside him quietly gave in: Some people don’t need to be chased, don’t need to be claimed, just being beside them at the right time... is enough to change who you are.

That morning, the hallway connecting the school’s academic wings hadn’t yet filled with students. A few groups passed by, chatting in low voices, Quatre and Trowa stood near the staircase leading up to the STEM classrooms, speaking quietly about something.

From the POLIS side, Relena appeared. Her hair was braided on one side, the plait resting gently over her right shoulder, the tail swaying slightly with each step.

Duo gave a soft whistle, raising a finger toward the braid.

“Whoa, who cast the glamour spell that turned Princess Peacecraft into a full-on muse?” he said half in jest, half in admiration.

Relena paused for a beat, then gave a faint smile so thin it was almost as if she wasn’t surprised that the comment had come from Duo. Dorothy walked beside her, casting Duo a glance, lips curling with unmistakable mischief. Quatre tilted his head, eyes drifting to the braid, then shifting to Heero.

Heero said nothing but his gaze had already settled on that braid, lingering just a moment longer than usual and in that moment, his eyes made no effort to hide and thus, couldn’t.

Duo caught that look, his eyes narrowed slightly, finger tapping against his chin as if some clue had just sparked to life.

“Don’t tell me—” Duo planted a hand on his hip and pointed, half-joking, half-serious,

“You braided Relena’s hair, didn’t you, Heero?”

Heero didn’t respond, blink or deflect. Just silence, the kind that says: If you want to guess, then go ahead.

Seconds passed.
One.
Two.
Three.

Everyone stared at Duo. Duo stared wide-eyed at Heero.

“Wait a second... That’s actually true?!”

Quatre cleared his throat quietly, lips pressed together to keep from laughing, Trowa raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting toward Dorothy who promptly turned away, seemingly to hide a stifled chuckle.

As for Relena… she remained composed, as though the whole exchange had nothing to do with her. Yet the braid swayed gently, as if a breeze had just passed through.

At last, Heero spoke. His voice was steady not loud, not soft, but clear enough that no one dared ignore it:

“Shut up, Duo.”

It wasn’t a shout. There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his tone, but perhaps because of that, the whole group froze as if someone had just dumped a bucket of cold water on them in the middle of summer.

Quatre glanced at Duo, the corner of his mouth twitching. Trowa frowned, but it was the kind of frown people wear when they’re trying very hard not to laugh.

Duo’s eyes widened. He raised both hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! I’m shutting up. But holy hell…” he turned dramatically to Trowa, pointing one finger at Heero —

“Did you see that? He braided her hair. Heero. Heero! The guy who treats emotions like system errors!”

Trowa shrugged, voice as calm as ever: “Maybe this bug... was an update.”

Dorothy let out a soft laugh, her fingers brushing lightly against her neck as she murmured to Quatre:

“Well, if he knows how to braid hair, I’m starting to wonder who’s really the softer one here.”

Relena said nothing, she gave the group a slight nod, her gaze lingering for the briefest moment on Quatre the only one who hadn’t joked, just smiled gently. Then she turned and walked away, the braid over her right shoulder swaying softly, as if it had never been mentioned. Her footsteps were light, barely a sound, carrying her toward the door that led into the POLIS wing, the hallway gradually drawing her into a quiet wash of light.

Heero didn’t wait for the others, he offered no explanation, no defense. He simply followed her silently, as if it were the only direction he knew how to go.

At the corridor’s turn, once the noise behind them had faded into silence, Relena suddenly paused and glanced back at him. Her eyes didn’t seek affirmation, but there was a flicker of hesitation in them, a gentle unease, like early sunlight slipping through the edges of a curtain.

“I’m sorry if... I made things uncomfortable for you this morning,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, like wind weaving through the roots of a tree.

Heero looked at her for a moment. Then he simply shook his head, a quiet gesture that seemed to say none of it had ever really mattered.

“It’s fine.”

—-—------- This morning —-------

Heero arrived at Relena’s house earlier than usual. He wasn’t sure why, there was just… something from the night before still suspended in his chest, refusing to settle. The way she had said “good night” that soft, unremarkable smile somehow, it still lingered, like a trace of warmth on the sleeve of his jacket.

Pagan opened the door with the same calm steadiness as always, he merely nodded, as if Heero showing up at this early hour was entirely expected. Perhaps he knew, those who’ve lived long enough in silence tend to sense the things left unsaid.

In the front garden, Relena was already there, the morning sun had yet to fully reach the hem of her uniform, but it was enough to catch the light in her hair, giving it a soft, silvery glow. She wore her uniform neatly as always, though her hair unbraided fell loosely over one shoulder. She turned toward him, her gaze gentle, hesitant. But her voice was calm, composed:

“You’re right on time.”

Just four words, not much but something in them made his chest tighten. She continued, this time with a hint of mischief in her tone so faint, he couldn’t quite tell if it was a joke or something else entirely:

“I was just about to ask… if you’d like to braid my hair.”

Heero froze, motionless like a system receiving a command it hadn’t been programmed for.

Relena only tilted her head slightly, fingers reaching up to touch the loose hair resting on her shoulder.

“Just like last night. I think… I’m used to it now.”

The words came softly, not a request, not a tease, but a quiet offering of trust, given without hesitation. As if she were certain he wouldn’t refuse and the act itself, the closeness of it, had become so natural it no longer required asking.

Heero looked at her, and in that moment, his gaze drifted slowly to the loose strands of hair falling over her white-collared shoulder, soft, like a lingering thread of memory from the night before. And suddenly, his hands felt useless. These fingers so accustomed to gripping screwdrivers, tightening motor bolts, dismantling steel casings and circuit boards were now expected to touch something that couldn’t be measured, predicted, or controlled, something soft, fragile, and profoundly human.

He nodded, not because he was ready, but because he knew: if he said anything now, even a single word, it wouldn’t be enough. It couldn’t possibly express the quiet mix of doubt and surrender, confusion and calm, that had begun to twist gently in his chest.

A feeling with no name, no formula, no measurable outcome. No familiar frame of reference to hold onto.

Only her, and the unbraided hair resting over her shoulder, and a suggestion so light it felt like if he turned it down, he would lose something, something he didn’t yet understand. And because he didn’t understand it, he couldn’t risk it so he stayed silent and agreed.

The way someone holds their breath before stepping into water of unknown depth not because they fully trust, but because there's no other way forward than to step in and let themselves sink.

------------------

That morning’s class passed slowly, like a ribbon of silk unfurling in quiet air. A breeze filtered through the window, rustling the small potted plants hanging just inside the frame and setting the curtains to a gentle sway. Relena sat still, her palm resting lightly on the cool surface of the desk, her eyes lingering on a page long opened but unread.

She didn’t know why, only that ever since she stepped through the POLIS doors, her mind had stayed behind, back in that hallway where Heero had walked beside her. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t urged her on. He had simply been there, walking quietly, steadily as though that presence, solid and unspoken, had never needed permission to exist.

Relena used to think she could categorize every relationship in her life. Her father had taught her that everything should have boundaries, titles, structure and order whether people or institutions but with Heero, those borders blurred, like water slipping through her fingers, she could feel it moving, yet hold on to nothing.

She didn’t know what this feeling was, only that it calmed her, like stumbling across a beautiful line of poetry, and yet unsettled her, like standing before a speech with an unfinished script in hand. And perhaps strangest of all was the quiet, almost childlike joy that came from remembering one very simple truth: Heero had never once refused her. Never pushed her away. Even when she knew she was testing him, sometimes deliberately crossing a line she told herself she’d respect, he never said no.

A hair tie needing to be found, a book to retrieve, a glance sent his way like a silent question. Every time, Heero answered not with irritation or evasion, but with the same calm presence: no scolding, no delay, no refusal, only quiet action. A kind of silence that didn’t leave her alone, but made her feel… steady, even while something inside her was drifting slowly into a place reason couldn’t reach.

She had once thought of Heero as her tutor. Then, a friend. Then… something else, something she wasn’t ready to name, because the moment she did, she knew there would be no going back. No pretending it was just lessons, just reminders, just long pauses filled with unspoken things.

The professor’s voice filtered in from the front of the classroom, steady and distant, like rain tapping on a tiled roof. Relena tilted her head slightly, a breeze brushed her hair and made her shiver, not from cold, but from something else.

For one brief moment, she felt something soften inside her, like a breath drawn but not yet let out. And maybe, maybe this feeling didn’t need a name just yet.

Maybe, for now, it was enough to know it was here, undeniable, quiet, and warm.

Chapter Text

The gentle midday light filtered through the glass windows, casting its glow over the silent bookshelves like rows of ancient walls. The air on the library’s second floor was nearly still, disturbed only by the steady rustling of pages and the quiet sound of Relena’s pen softly marking the margins of a commentary book. She often came here during break time out of habit, a personal ritual, a quiet corner untouched by the voices and commotion of the hallways.

Until….

Bang!

A sound rang out, far too loud for such a hushed space. At the end of the corridor, a young girl with short hair and a STEM-logo uniform still slightly wrinkled, stumbled forward, surrounded by a tumble of plastic boxes that had slipped from her arms. Small components, data transmission modules, navigation chips, circuit test boards, spilled across the floor, clattering against the legs of nearby tables.

And at the center of the chaos, Relena instinctively stepped back but not in time to avoid one of the boxes landing squarely on the hem of her skirt. A smear of technical oil spread across the edge of her white blouse, with a few droplets splattered onto her sleeve in the fall.

The girl immediately bowed her head, panic-stricken: "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going..."

Relena froze for a moment not because of the stains on her clothes, but because of the panic in that voice. She bent down slightly, her tone gentle:

"It’s all right. Are you hurt?"

But before Hilde could answer, another voice cut through the air deep, clear, and slicing clean through every other sound:

"Relena!"

Heero appeared at the top of the stairs, his gaze sweeping across the scene in an instant. His eyes stopped at the smear of black on her blouse. His jaw tightened, as if by reflex. Without a word, Heero strode forward, gently pulling Relena out of the scattered mess of components, his eyes never leaving the stains on her sleeve. It wasn’t anger in his expression it was something tenser, something tighter.

Relena felt it, she lightly touched her sleeve and said softly:

"It’s okay. It was my fault. I didn’t see her coming."

By now, Hilde had scrambled to her feet, hurriedly picking up the scattered items as she stammered:

"I’m a new student: Hilde Schbeiker. I just got transferred to STEM this week, but I’m in logistics, technical maintenance... I was just bringing some equipment to the design lab."

Heero glanced at her not sharply, but not exactly with sympathy either. Just a small nod. He bent down, not to help Hilde, but to quickly pick up a box of equipment lying near Relena’s feet, as if anything left around her might still be a potential threat.

Relena crouched down too. Her hand brushed against Heero’s, a moment, they both paused, neither said a word. But Hilde saw it clearly: a fine, invisible, and silent thread stretched between the two of them, something that made any explanation feel unnecessary.

For the first time, Hilde felt like she had stepped into a play already long in progress, one with no role for her only a late-arriving spectator.

She stood up fully and looked at the hem of Relena’s blouse. The oil stain had spread faster than she expected. Her sleeve had darkened too. It wasn’t serious, but there was no way she could return to class looking like that.

Relena glanced down at her clothes, then turned to Hilde, who was still gathering components with trembling fingers. She smiled gently,

“You should go to the infirmary…your knee might be scraped.”

Hilde quickly shook her head.

“No, I’m fine... really, I’m fine…”

Heero remained beside Relena, silent. But after a brief pause, he suddenly shrugged off his dark jacket, the signature uniform of the STEM division: sleek cut, high collar, made of heat-resistant technical fabric, with two silver stripes running down the sleeves and waist. A thick, form-fitting jacket, designed for labs and fieldwork. Without a word, he draped it firmly over Relena’s shoulders.

Relena startled slightly, she opened her mouth to say something, but the look in Heero’s eyes stopped her, not with words, but with something strange and unmistakable: a quiet firmness wrapped in a kind of gentleness that said: Just wear it.

She didn’t know why but her heart skipped, just a little. Heero’s jacket was large on her, still cool from the air conditioning. But inside, it carried the scent of pencil shavings, notebook paper, and a faint trace of sunlight, the kind of scent that made one think of nameless after-school afternoons.

The long hem covered the stain entirely. She pulled the collar a little closer, then nodded: “Thank you…”

------------------

“Just a light scrape on the knee. Next time, wear gloves and double-check the cargo box before moving it. STEM components aren’t exactly Lego bricks,” said the nurse, Sally Po, her tone dry, but not without gentleness.

The small infirmary sat on the ground floor, where sunlight from the back courtyard filtered through an arched glass window. The air carried the faint scent of antiseptic and herbal tea. Boxes of bandages, heart rate monitors, and student health charts were all neatly arranged. Hilde sat on a narrow bed by the window, an ice pack resting on her knee, her clothes still smudged with traces of technical dust.

Hilde gave a small nod.
“Yes… I’m sorry…”

She was still embarrassed. Only a week into her new school, not yet familiar with anyone, not even fully trained in safety protocols… and she had already crashed into someone. And not just anyone, a girl so beautiful, Hilde still wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined her. Her hair was long, a light chestnut brown that caught a soft gold shimmer in the sunlight pouring from the north hallway. The girl seemed wrapped in a faint, glowing aura... like a princess stepped out of some old European fairy tale.

And there Hilde was awkward, hands oily, face damp with sweat crashing straight into that image like some unfortunate aesthetic accident. She still wasn’t sure what had just happened. All she remembered was the bang... the dizzy stumble... and a glance that sent a chill down her spine.

She hadn’t even had time to exhale before the infirmary door swung open.

"Hey! Are you the one who got hurt just now? Someone said a bunch of components fell, then someone fainted, someone screamed, and then …seriously, I was just gone for three minutes to get water and STEM already has an accident?!"

Hilde didn’t even have to turn around, she knew immediately: Duo Maxwell. He entered like a gust of wind the kind that causes chaos, not a refreshing breeze. He was still holding a half-finished cup of water, eyes darting around before landing squarely on where Hilde was sitting.

"You okay? Did someone mess with you? Want me to call Trowa and Wufei to go rough 'em up?"

Hilde shook her head quickly. "No… I just fell."

"Fell? Fell into who? Why did you fall? How did you fall? Was there blood?!" Duo flopped onto the chair beside her, eyes wide, voice firing off questions like a machine gun.

Hilde lowered her head slightly. She didn’t know where to begin—she herself still didn’t understand what she had just witnessed. Everything had happened too fast, too bright, and... too strange.

"I… I was just bringing some equipment from the storage room to the library. I had just started up the stairs, but the box was heavy and I tripped... and I bumped into someone."

Duo propped his chin on his hand, eyes sparkling.

"Was it a guy or a girl?"

"A girl… really beautiful… long brown hair, with a touch of gold… the light hit her and it looked like she had a halo… Like a princess…"

Duo instantly sat upright, mouth open as if about to shout a name: "Wait. Brown hair, long, glowing like a halo. And you’re shaking like a leaf? Don’t tell me it was…"

Clack.

A sharp sound from the pen tapping against the clipboard. Sally Po was still at the desk, she didn’t even look up.

"Duo Maxwell."

"Yes, ma’am?!"

"Out."

"What?! But I just…"

"Or I’ll write you up in the infirmary log with a diagnosis of: ‘cognitive dissonance and chronic verbal overdrive.’ "

"Out!" Sally crossed her arms, eyes slicing sharp as a scalpel.

As he backed out the door, Duo threw Hilde a wink: "See you after lunch, newbie. And hey don’t let those hardware boxes start rebelling against you."

The door shut behind him with the fading echo of his footsteps down the hall.

Hilde stared after him for a second, then exhaled quietly. She turned to Sally, hesitant:

"Um… what exactly is he? I mean… is he a student?"

Sally, flipping through the health records, pushed her glasses up her nose.

"Him? Officially, yeah …STEM student. But half the time… he’s more like a misplaced courier."

Hilde suddenly remembered the moment she’d seen in the library, she couldn’t explain it just that look in his eyes when he saw her. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t angry. It was more like… a reflex to protect.

Something about it made the rest of the world seem to blur and in that instant even though she was the one who bumped into them, Hilde felt as though she was the one intruding on something sacred.

The midday sun slanted through the long row of glass windows, casting sharp beams onto the floor in overlapping shapes like a circuit diagram drawn in light. The air carried the scent of technical plastics and something dry and brittle, the distinct atmosphere of a classroom where robots were assembled like toys, but with the seriousness of a final thesis defense. Hilde stood at the doorway, holding a stack of printed module assembly instructions, eyes lifted toward the classroom nameplate as if silently re-evaluating her decision to enroll in this school.

Every step felt like hesitation. She still wasn’t used to this place where everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing, while she, every time she plugged in the wrong cable, felt like she’d just accidentally launched a satellite off course. From behind the familiar wall of the hologram projector, a head popped out—messy waves of dark brown hair with a soft violet sheen, tousled like it had just been washed in... laughter. The face beneath that hair was always half-serious, half-looking like it was about to invent some outrageous story just to make someone laugh.

“Hey! The library hero’s back!”

It was Duo Maxwell the textbook definition of the kind of classmate who made it impossible to study in peace, but also the first to reach out a hand when you tripped and fell. A few chuckles rose from inside the classroom not loud, not mocking, but more like a small wave from a group of long-time friends, always ready to pull someone new up onto shore. Hilde blushed. she stepped inside, her movements hesitant but not shy. Her eyes took in the room: the servo simulator humming softly, LED lights blinking on circuit boards like curious eyes.

Duo waved from the back row. “Over here! Still got a seat next to me. Special chair, reserved for anyone about to face three top-secret questions.”

Hilde gave a small smile, still awkward, but already getting used to Duo’s brand of humor delivered at the speed of Python code running on caffeine. She took the seat beside him.

“Name? Can you handle spicy food? And be honest, do you think turning a robot into a rock band is actually feasible?”

She laughed quiet, but genuine: “I think... as long as it doesn’t explode, we should try.”

“Perfect. That’s a solid STEM answer.”

Duo nodded like he’d just confirmed her eligibility to join some underground society, maybe one for people who’d once wired the negative lead into a 9V battery by mistake. The classroom buzzed with activity, but it didn’t feel stressful. The sounds of typing, circuit tuning, and soft motor whirring formed a backdrop very different from any typical lesson and for the first time all morning, Hilde didn’t feel like she was standing outside a glass wall anymore.

Duo tilted his head, violet eyes sparkling with playful mischief: “By the way… this morning in the infirmary, you didn’t tell me everything, did you?”

“What…?”

“The library incident. You said you were carrying parts, bumped into someone, there was a bang, and then some holy light shining from a brunette’s hair or something, right?”

Hilde froze, she didn’t know why, but the memory came back to her like a slow-motion replay: hurried footsteps… then a figure emerging from the white light streaming through the library’s window. Long hair, pale brown with golden hues like sunset over a lake, that hair looked as if it had been dusted with gold—soft, weightless and when the light passed through it, she didn’t look quite real. Not in a “fairy tale ethereal” way, but in the kind of way that made you think: I shouldn’t touch this. I’m too clumsy to be standing this close to something like this.

“I don’t know her name,” Hilde said quietly. “But she was beautiful. So beautiful… it felt like if you got too close, you'd blur the whole picture.”

Duo nodded, his expression suddenly as focused as if he were listening to a quantum physics lecture:

“Mhm. Then yeah…that’s definitely Relena. Hair like poured honey, eyes… green-blue, like the shutdown button on a control panel. And Heero? Don’t stare too long. That guy has a built-in eye magnet like a capacitor pulls in stray current.”

“They’re a couple?” Hilde asked, a little hesitant.

“Not yet.” Duo absentmindedly twisted a cable between his fingers like he was spinning a bedtime tale.

“But... everyone knows something’s going on. Everyone except the two main characters.”

Just then, the group walked in: Quatre was typing something on his datapad, his expression gentle like he was writing poetry and coding at the same time, Trowa moved silently, unscrewing a module lid with one hand, Wufei was frowning at a thermal sensor, clearly locked in debate with it, and Heero… Heero looked like he existed in an entirely different timeline.

Suddenly, Wufei spoke up, sharp as a radar ping cutting through the ambient hum: “Where’s your jacket?”

The group froze just for a second but it was enough for every pair of eyes to subtly drift toward Heero.

Trowa murmured like reading off a weather report: “Strange. No sign of the jacket...”

Quatre raised an eyebrow, carefully as if measuring voltage: “First time I’ve ever seen Heero out of full uniform.”

Heero, without looking up and breaking his work, simply said: “Gave it to Relena.”

One sentence, not a word more than necessary.

Duo turned to Hilde, eyes glowing like freshly installed LED bulbs.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

Hilde lowered her gaze slightly, not answering. Her cheeks flushed a faint pink, she didn’t like gossip, and she certainly didn’t enjoy intruding on other people’s personal lives. But… the image of Heero taking off his jacket and gently draping it over Relena’s shoulders in the middle of the library, surrounded by spilled ink and tangled cables tightened something in her chest.

It wasn’t jealousy. It was… the way Heero looked at Relena, like the world was sinking, and she was the only one still floating above the surface. Duo whispered, eyes still fixed on her:

“You’re staring like you just got sucked out of the classroom completely.”

“Huh?” Hilde snapped out of it.

“Oh nothing, I was just saying… my robot’s about to slap me in the face. Look.” He winked, pointing to the mechanical arm jerking erratically beside him.

Hilde laughed really laughed this time, not because of the robot, not even because Duo was that funny. But because… some small part of her no longer felt misplaced not everyone here was easy to approach, but someone was welcoming her as if she’d always been part of the circuit board, just waiting for the right contact point to make the connection.

The lunchtime bell rang calm, not urgent, but enough to send ripples of movement through the hallway. As Hilde slid her stack of documents into her bag, she heard Duo’s voice calling from behind:

“Hey, rookie! You coming to eat? STEM curry’s on discount today. Once-in-a-millennium deal!”

She paused, turned to see him smiling half teasing, half sincere. His eyes gleamed like lunch itself was some kind of joyful game.

“I… thought everyone usually eats at the central canteen?” Hilde asked, uncertain.

“Well yeah, usually, Great view, lots of people, good for gossip.” Duo shrugged, “but today the STEM zone’s running an insider deal. You’ll regret missing it. Come with us, no one’s gonna single you out.”

Hilde stole a glance at Duo’s group waiting near the classroom door. All guys: Wufei was reading something on a tablet, Trowa leaned against the wall, and Quatre was smiling at his phone, clearly chatting with someone he knew well.

“What’s there to worry about? No one’s gonna make you finish a whole curry bowl.” Duo added, leaning in with mock secrecy. “unless you want to sit in the corner alone… and risk someone thinking you’re homesick or something…”

“I’m not worried about that,” Hilde shook her head, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“It’s just… I’m not used to eating lunch with a group of all boys. That’s all.”

Duo burst out laughing, unable to hide his amusement:

“Relax. In our group, the most awkward person isn’t you.”

“Yeah?” Hilde tilted her head.

They walked down the west hallway, where the midday sun slanted through the windows, casting soft golden lines onto the tiled floor. Their footsteps made a steady rhythm, and in that quiet stretch, Hilde suddenly asked:

“Is he… Heero, always that distant from the group?”

It was Trowa who answered, his voice even, like it was routine:

“He never eats lunch with us, unless Relena’s there.”

Hilde turned. “Relena Darlian Peacecraft?”

Quatre smiled a quiet, knowing smile, as if still texting while also listening to everything around him.

“Yeah, that’s her. Easy to tell. Every time he turns down the south corridor, we already know.”

“Where does Relena usually eat lunch?”

“She likes the South Library.” Quatre replied. “or the back garden, quiet places away from curious eyes. Probably still there today.”

Duo nudged Hilde lightly.

“But don’t stare at the princess, okay? Especially when Heero’s around. He’ll notice right away.”

Hilde flinched, then chuckled softly.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Sure, you don’t mean to, but your eyes might betray you. Trust me, the only person who’s ever dared ask Relena what she was having for lunch was Dorothy. And the result?”

“What happened?”

“She got The Look. You know the kind Heero gives like you just poked a sleeping wolf.” Duo shrugged, half teasing, half serious.

The group laughed, their voices echoing gently in the empty corridor.

Hilde didn’t laugh, she simply glanced toward the hallway’s end just in time to catch a glimpse of a white shirt disappearing around the corner. Heero’s heading toward the POLIS wing library. She didn’t see his face and she didn’t need to.

And for some reason, her thoughts drifted back to the morning, Relena’s skirt stained with oil, and the way Heero had silently taken off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, no words and no grand gesture. But somehow… impossible to ignore.

“When did they get so close?” she asked, half to herself.

Wufei answered plainly: “Long before you transferred. Heero’s been Relena’s private tutor.”

“Really?”

Quatre nodded, unhurried.

“A month ago, Relena missed the deadline for an advanced calculus assignment. She couldn’t grasp the limit transformation technique, Heero skipped an entire group lab just to help her submit the work that afternoon.”

“…he disappears every lunch break.” Duo added, chuckling softly. “Probably ordering some kind of veggie salad right now. That girl eats like a bird.”

Hilde glanced down that hallway once more before continuing on with the group. She wasn’t sure why she cared. It wasn’t about Heero, not exactly but something about Relena... her calm, distant demeanor, the way her eyes never seemed fully present, like she was living in a pause between moments.

And Hilde wanted to see more, not out of curiosity, but as if needing to confirm whether that first feeling was right.

Duo slowed half a step beside her. “You’re probably thinking she’s some kind of mysterious princess, huh?”

“Not exactly...” Hilde replied, eyes ahead to the STEM cafeteria, where the smell of warm spices had begun to rise from the kitchen.

“I just want to understand… the person you all go quiet around when her name comes up.”

Duo looked at her, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Careful, rookie. You’re stepping into uncharted territory.”

The STEM cafeteria was crowded but not noisy, calmer than Hilde had expected. She followed behind the group quietly, a step or two behind, still not quite used to having lunch with a table full of boys, especially when four out of five of them were standouts in their division.

“Don’t worry.” Duo called over his shoulder, sliding a tray toward her. “The curry’s super cheap today. You picked the right crew.”

Hilde gave a faint smile. “It’s not because of the curry…”

“It’s not because we’re all guys either, is it?” Duo blinked innocently. “I washed my face properly before coming out, you know.”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured not quite teasing, but her gaze was gentle all the same.

They found a table near the window, where the view looked out onto the courtyard’s large maple tree. Quatre pulled out a chair for Hilde, his smile as gentle as always. She nodded in thanks and sat quietly, beginning to observe.

“Does Relena ever come down to the STEM wing?” Hilde asked, setting down her chopsticks. Her voice wasn’t overly curious, just a question, asked in the middle of curry lunch, a meal too ordinary to draw attention unless, like today, it came with a discount.

Quatre shook his head slightly. “Rarely. There was a time she sat alone by the white daisies out in the yard. Not everyone has the courage to approach her.”

Trowa nodded, just barely, as if confirming. “She eats very little.”

“So little that Heero has to sit and watch like a dad.” Duo chimed in, half-laughing. “Try waiting until Relena pushes her tray aside before eating your half. The guy’ll give you a death stare like you just violated protocol.”

Hilde frowned slightly, surprised. “He really does that?”

“Yeah.” Quatre nodded, slowly. “Heero was trained like a soldier from a young age. But no one asked him to do that for Relena… he just does it. On his own.”

“Which is why we call him the foster dad,” Duo added, snapping his fingers as if scoring a debate point.

“Strict, punctual, and no one dares to look at the princess for more than three seconds.”

Hilde chuckled softly, her gaze drifting to the courtyard outside the window, where sunlight cast soft shadows over the vine trellis.

“She has this kind of… peaceful aura. I don’t know why, but being near her makes me feel lighter.”

“Yeah,” Quatre smiled, his eyes clouded with something like memory.

“Relena has that kind of presence. She doesn’t need to say much but when she’s around, the whole space just… settles.”

Duo kept his head down, spoon still moving, but his voice softened noticeably: “Just don’t stare too long….”

“I was just… observing,” Hilde said, tilting her head slightly, chin resting on her palm.

“To Heero, ‘observing’ is already a crime,” Duo winked. “Trust me.”

The group chuckled quietly. Lunch went on, the hum of conversation weaving around them, rhythmic and familiar, like they were all used to the quiet presence of a single name — Relena. That girl, Hilde thought, wasn’t distant or prideful, but… quiet and hard to reach. Like a beautiful scene that everyone admired but few had the courage to step into and truly see up close.

“So they knew each other before I got here.” she murmured, as if picturing a part of a painting she hadn’t yet finished sketching.

“Since last spring.” Quatre confirmed. “But no one knows when exactly it started.”

Hilde didn’t say more, In her mind, the outline of Relena was starting to take shape, not drawn from rumors or borrowed glances, but from a subtle feeling: that something about Relena made the whole world slow down just a bit. And she, though unsure why, wanted to see that more clearly, not out of jealousy just… to understand.

“Speaking of Relena… you guys remember that party list?” Duo, chin in hand and half-lost in the flow of talk, suddenly tapped his fingers against the table.

“The one where someone added names without permission?” Wufei turned, eyes narrowing.

Duo winced, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Just a little fun, no big deal. Don’t be so serious.”

Trowa smirked. “Your ‘little fun’ made it all the way to the Chair’s office.”

The whole table went silent. Quatre set his glass down slowly.

“Yeah. I heard from Admin. Apparently… he found the list ‘very interesting’ and decided to turn it into a full-school event.”

“ ‘Very interesting?’ ” Wufei repeated, his tone measured like he was analyzing a battle.

“When a Chairman says something’s ‘interesting’… it’s never just casual.”

Trowa leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “I still don’t get it. What does he want out of this? Just because Relena and Heero’s names were on the list?”

Quatre narrowed his eyes slightly, his voice slowing down like he was trying to read an unsigned contract.

“Maybe he doesn’t care what his daughter thinks. But if he says ‘interesting’… it means he’s watching.”

“That gives me chills.” Hilde muttered. “What kind of person is he, anyway? Most parents would…”

“Parents?” A sharp female voice sliced through the air like a fine blade.

The whole group turned at once. A platinum-blonde girl in a perfectly pressed ECON uniform stood leaning casually against the wall, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if she’d been observing for a while. She stepped forward light steps, but each one felt deliberate, almost rhythmic. As her gaze swept over the table, she placed one hand gently on the back of Quatre’s chair, a subtle reminder of her presence. Quatre smiled, introducing her with a voice that carried a trace of polite caution, as if this sort of entrance was nothing new:

“Dorothy Catalonia. Relena’s best friend. She’s in ECON, right next to our division.”

Hilde blinked, nodding slightly. “Ah… nice to meet you.”

Dorothy didn’t sit right away. She merely glanced at Duo with mild interest.

“I heard you were talking about the Chairman.”

Duo raised an eyebrow. “Perfect timing. Got anything you’d like to share with the class?”

Dorothy smiled not a loud or warm smile, but the kind that tilted slightly at the corner of her lips, sharp and deliberate, like a finely honed blade.

“Not sharing,” she said “but correcting.”

She circled to the opposite side of the table, stopping behind the empty chair across from Hilde. Her hand rested on its back, like she was choosing the perfect position to strike — then she sat, crossing her legs with poised ease.

“The Chairman — that is, Mr. Peacecraft — never does anything just because he finds it ‘interesting’. If he approved a school-wide dance, it means he has a purpose.”

Trowa tilted his head, his eyes like a strategist reading a board. “What purpose? Publicity for the school?”

Dorothy smirked. “That’s one possibility. But…” Her gaze flicked from Quatre to Hilde. “…it could also be a test.”

“A test for who?” Wufei asked, unable to hide the edge in his voice.

Dorothy turned toward him, her eyes like peeling back wrapping paper that didn’t need to be opened. “Relena.”

The table stilled for a beat.

“That dance...” she continued “will be the first time she appears not just as a student, but as something else… a symbol. The ‘heir.’ And Mr. Peacecraft, as always, will be watching every reaction.”

Quatre let out a slow breath, as if puzzle pieces had just clicked into place. “So that’s why he kept the list… including the pairs on it?”

Dorothy nodded. “Including Heero’s name.”

Duo let out a low whistle. “Wow…”

“He doesn’t care what Relena wants, does he?” Hilde asked softly not timidly, but with a sharpened edge. “As long as she plays the part.”

Dorothy looked at her for a long moment. Not with contempt, not with coldness. Just the look of someone who’d seen this game play out far too many times.

“Relena knows how to act. But what Mr. Peacecraft fears… is that she might choose not to anymore.”

Silence settled, broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery from nearby tables. Finally, Duo spoke, breaking the tension.

“So… what if Heero refuses to dance? I can’t even picture him in a tux, let alone bowing to someone.”

Dorothy let out a quiet laugh. “He’ll dance.”

Trowa raised an eyebrow. “You sound sure.”

“Because it’s Relena.”

This time, no one had anything left to say and Hilde, for the first time, felt she wasn’t just walking into an “unmapped territory,” as Duo once joked, but into a map that did exist, drawn in faint, shifting lines… where every misstep left a mark

Chapter Text

“I was forced to come here.”

“So was I.”

He had walked quietly down the hallway, then circled to the back courtyard, searching each corridor, each flight of steps. His eyes remained as cold as ever, but his pace slowed, growing heavier with every passing minute.

At last, beneath the trees by the southern fence, Relena stood motionless in the rain. The wind whipped through her hair, pressing damp strands against her cheeks. Her dark uniform clung to her body, trembling slightly with each shiver, yet she stood there still, head bowed, neither shielding herself nor resisting, almost as if she wanted the rain to wash something away.

Heero stopped a few steps behind her, for a long time, neither of them spoke.

It was Relena who broke the silence first. Her voice was hoarse from the cold but steady, carrying a note of bitterness laced with mockery:

“What did you come looking for me for?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on her small figure in the rain so familiar, yet something about it kept him rooted in place, unable to turn away. A moment later, Heero stepped forward and slowly took off his coat. He said nothing, asked no questions and he simply draped it gently over her shoulders.

Relena flinched slightly but didn’t push it away. Her eyes stayed locked on his, trying to read his expression, but there was nothing clear, only a brooding silence that seemed to cloud everything.

“Did you skip class just to stand in the rain?” Heero asked, voice dry and flat.

Relena gave a bitter laugh, one completely devoid of warmth. 

“I didn’t want to see your face.”

He didn’t react, no anger, no sharp retort. He didn’t walk away, either. He just stood there, as if even he couldn’t quite explain why he had walked through a whole afternoon of abandoned classes… just to find a girl who had never made things easy for him since the very first lesson.

They stood in the rain a while longer, as if neither of them wanted to be the one to speak next.

Later, Heero wouldn’t be able to remember what exactly he had been thinking in that moment only the feeling of the cold seeping into his bones… and the lingering warmth in his sleeve, long after he had returned home.

-------------

Under the twilight, the schoolyard slowly faded into a pale orange hue, like an oil painting drying quietly on its canvas. Heero stood leaning lightly against the wall behind the first-floor hallway, hands tucked in the pockets of his coat, eyes silently watching as the courtyard emptied.

Quatre had said goodbye fifteen minutes ago, Wufei had dragged Duo off, still ranting. The noisy bustle of dismissal gradually dissolved into a soft golden stillness, the kind that lingered between those who didn’t want to leave and those who hadn’t yet arrived. Only he remained.

Heero had once thought he could come up with a reasonable excuse to justify staying. The coat, a study meeting later that evening, the usual mundane things dressed up as “responsibility.” But deep down, he knew better than anyone: Heero was waiting for Relena.

The sound of footsteps echoed softly from the staircase steady, hesitant, as if they too were searching for a silent answer in the fading space. Heero lifted his head. His eyes quickly found the approaching figure without warning, without a call. It was Relena.

The light of the setting sun spilled gently along the steps, tinting the coat she wore in soft gold. It was his coat, oversized on her frame, making her arms and shoulders appear lost in the folds of fabric. And yet, that very sense of being misplaced only accentuated her delicate form making her seem wrapped in something from another world, something broader, quieter, and gentler than anything he could ever articulate.

Her hair was a little tousled, perhaps from the evening wind, a few strands falling loose against the collar. Relena walked slowly, holding the folded coat in both hands. Her pace wasn’t hurried, but something in the rhythm of her steps made Heero feel his heart skip slightly as if she wasn’t just walking toward him, but toward some quiet corner of his inner world he had always tried to keep intact.

The thought struck him unannounced, for a fleeting moment, Heero saw something entirely different: Relena not as someone returning a coat, but as someone resting gently on his shoulder. The same coat, but instead of on her, it was cradled in his arms, her warmth lingering at the seams, her breath steady and soft, as if she had fallen asleep peacefully in the midst of his life. A tender vision, wordless yet so real it made his chest tighten.

Heero turned away immediately. He wouldn’t allow himself to linger on the illusion, his hand curled slightly in his pocket, eyes lifting toward the moss-covered eaves above, trying to hide a kind of restlessness he wasn’t used to feeling. Then, once more, he turned to face Relena, this time with deliberate restraint in his gaze.

It shouldn’t go any further.

That feeling had clung to him through every study session with her when she smiled without warning, when her eyes flicked briefly his way, even when she silently turned a page. All those small, insignificant moments slowly chipped away at his composure. Heero knew exactly what it was. But instead of naming it, he chose silence, not because he was afraid but because he understood: the moment it was acknowledged, whatever existed between them could no longer remain the same.

Could that relationship still stop at the boundary between student and tutor? One sitting across a desk, the other leaving through the school gate each evening as part of a plan already drawn out?

No, Heero knew things had already begun to shift.

He was starting to realize he didn’t want to remain on the outside. He didn’t want to be just a supporting character in a picture still in progress between the two of them, but stepping in would mean letting go of the things that had given him stability: role, order, boundaries. The very things that had held him together for months.

Relena had come closer. She stood in front of him now, her features softly lit by the amber tones of dusk.

“Did you wait long?”

Her voice was quiet, slightly hesitant, as if afraid of disturbing the silence that had settled between them. She held out the folded coat but a strand of hair, caught by the wind, tangled in the top button.

Heero didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fell on that strand of hair. Then, slowly, his eyes returned to hers, reflecting the fading sunlight, a brief pause like even he had to take a step back within himself.

“…Hold on” he said, voice low, roughened slightly, as if something long restrained had just touched the edge of speech.

He raised his hand, the moment his fingers brushed her hair, freeing it from the coat, the space between them filled with a silence unlike any other not hollow, but heavy with everything left unsaid. They could both hear their own heartbeats.

Heero knew something had changed. Even if he couldn’t name the feeling yet, that moment of stillness, that simple gesture… had already begun to speak for him. Relena didn’t move, the breeze lifted her hair against the back of his hand, soft as water, carrying a faint scent like jasmine. The sensation made him falter. Fingers once used to textbooks and equations now brushed gently through strands of her hair, as if they were the only thing that existed in that moment.

One strand, then another. Each motion felt like solving a silent equation, the only thing he could focus on amid the rising noise within. He wasn’t doing this out of courtesy, and it wasn’t really about the coat. It was because the distance between them had grown so close he could see her eyes catching the last of the sunlight. Eyes that weren’t sharp, weren’t intentional, but held just enough to make him forget what he should, or shouldn’t do.

And when the final strand came free, Heero let go without realizing.

“All done.”

His voice was softer than the wind, so low it was hard to tell whether it was speech or simply a slow, careful exhale. Then he turned away too quickly, too awkwardly, unlike his usual composed self, aflicker of hesitation. And… the tips of his ears flushed red.

Relena said nothing, she pressed her lips into a quiet line, then gently held the coat again. Her fingers paused at the hem, as if wanting to say something… but in the end, she only whispered:

“Thank you… for earlier, and for now.”

Heero didn’t reply, he kept his gaze on the schoolyard, where the last patches of sunlight stretched across the bricks. But something in his expression had softened, as if a knot inside him had quietly loosened. His lips… faintly, almost imperceptibly, curved upward, so slightly that even he was startled by it. No more words were exchanged.

They left the school together, not side by side, but not apart either. Just enough distance for their footsteps to blend, without needing to speak. Up on the second floor, Dorothy leaned against the balcony railing, her hair swaying in the wind like a quiet, unanswered question. Her eyes followed the two figures below silently, unblinking.

She murmured, almost inaudibly:

“You know it already, Heero… you’re just not ready to admit it yet.”

The sunset stretched their shadows across the old courtyard tiles. A pair of silhouettes side by side, clear, unspoken because sometimes, silence is the loudest confession of all. And the festival just three days away, might be the moment when Heero, whether he’s ready or not… won’t be able to turn back.

That night, their tutoring session was canceled for the first time in over a year. Relena received Heero’s message while sitting by the window, where a soft breeze lifted a strand of hair against her cheek:

“Tonight is postponed. I’ll reschedule later.”

Just a few words and no explanation. Heero didn’t sleep that night.

The moonlight crept across the wall, slipping through the window in a deliberate kind of silence, he sat with his back against the bed frame, arms crossed, gaze blank as if trying to freeze everything in place. It wasn’t that he didn’t try to sleep. He simply couldn’t, his mind was still trapped in that room where books lay untouched, where his coat still rested quietly on the chair, not yet returned. No words had been exchanged, yet the space that had opened between them felt like the first subtle crack, deep and sharp.

“It’s just studying… isn’t it?”

He had once believed distance could restore his composure. But now, just a single night apart and already it felt like everything stable was beginning to fracture. That feeling… was terrifying.

“I braided her hair.” Heero thought, fingers curling reflexively. “It wasn’t an accident. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

And yet this afternoon, when he reached to untangle that strand from her collar… he hadn’t planned it. She had only bowed her head, just slightly… Everything had happened too naturally, too vividly almost beyond his control. And that, more than anything, was what scared him, not Relena but himself.

The memories played on repeat, not like beautiful scenes from a film but like tiny shards, slicing slowly into consciousness.

Their first lesson, she sat with arms crossed, eyes defiant.

“Why are you even here? I was forced into this.”

“…So was I.”

Neither yielded neither backed down, the tension between them had been nearly suffocating.

The second lesson, she disappeared no message. He had searched the entire schoolyard. Found her standing in the rain, cold, hair plastered to her cheek.

“You skipping class just to stand in the rain?”

“I didn’t want to see your face.”

Heero didn’t reply, just took off his coat and placed it on her shoulders and they stood there, silent, soaked in rain not knowing how to begin again.

He remembered the times he deliberately gave her absurdly difficult exercises to tease her.

“This isn’t basic algebra.”

“No proof.” he replied curtly.

“You’re doing this to get back at me, aren’t you?” He only shrugged but yes, she was right.

Once, she slammed her pen down on the desk.

“You’re impossible!”

Heero responded flatly:

“So I’ve been told.”

She had once fallen asleep during revision head resting on her arm, breath light as wind. He hadn’t woken her.

And the first time she truly smiled when she solved a hard problem on her own.

“What are you smiling for? That one was easy.”

Heero had said that, but in truth, he had rewritten that problem three times to suit her level. He just never told her.

All of it silly, awkward, sincere Relena had etched herself into his memory with every breath, every glance. And it was those very memories thin as needles pressing deeper and deeper into his thoughts, making it harder and harder to breathe.

He clenched his fists, pressing his forehead against his knees. His breath came long and heavy, as if trying to escape his chest.

“If we keep studying like this… if seeing her every day only deepens these feelings…”

There would come a day when he could no longer stay rational around her. That wasn’t a hypothetical anymore, it was approaching, clear and sharp like a crack about to break wide open.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Odin didn’t wait for a reply, he pushed it open and stepped inside, like a man who knew this room and the boy in it better than anyone else. He gave a quiet smile, the kind worn by someone who’s lived through every shade of emotion without needing to name them. His eyes didn’t ask questions; they already understood the silence sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Had enough, huh?”

Heero didn’t respond, just glanced sideways at him. Odin shrugged.

“Chairman Peacecraft called. Said you canceled the session, but not because the girl caused any trouble. Didn’t sound like he was upset about it, either.”

Heero hated that, hated how the old man knew everything how he even seemed to understand the very reason Heero himself couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.

He snapped, quietly:

“Stop smiling.”

But Odin kept smiling, just a little. The kind of smile grown men wear when they realize their boy has finally learned what it means to feel something sharp in the chest.

“It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?”

Heero didn’t answer. Because he knew, he had started going crazy a long time ago.

--------------

Elsewhere, Dorothy had arrived at Relena’s house only minutes after the short message was sent. She didn’t need directions, Pagan opened the door with a look that seemed entirely used to Dorothy showing up at odd hours, in even odder circumstances. Without a word, Dorothy stepped inside.

Relena was curled up on the bed, her back turned slightly toward the window. In her hands was Heero’s charcoal-colored coat too large and too heavy for her small frame, still holding the scent of the wind, and that quiet, unmistakable scent that belonged to Heero alone. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were dull, as if someone had pulled her into a vacuum, colorless, shapeless, voiceless.

“I don’t understand… what’s happening anymore.” Relena whispered. Her voice was so faint it could have passed for a thought escaping the edge of her lips.

Dorothy didn’t answer, she simply walked over and sat beside her. The sharp edge in her usual gaze softened. She stayed silent for a long time, sometimes, Dorothy’s silence had a cruel clarity to it like she was trying to figure out how to steady herself when the person she always thought of as the strongest, the most unshakable, was now holding onto that coat like it was the only lifeline left in a storm without a name. Her next message was typed and sent quickly, just one word lit up the screen:

“Quatre.”

No one said it out loud, but both of them knew: this wasn’t just about a missed study session, a misunderstanding, or a sulky teenage argument. This was a tide pulling deeper something unspoken that had already gone too far, past the point where rules and reason could hold it back. Dorothy didn’t look at Relena when she spoke, her voice was low and slow, as if speaking not to her friend, but to the night quietly stretching beyond the window frame:

“...If even someone like Heero Yuy can’t hold the line… then how deep has this feeling really gone?”

Chapter Text

Heero stepped onto the school grounds just as sunlight began to spill across the stone-paved paths. No one noticed the sluggishness in his steps   perhaps because he had always walked this way, as if calculating each breath the world took but only he knew that today, his slow pace was of a different kind.

The message from last night… was an escape. For the first time in a year, Heero had texted Relena saying he was busy and couldn’t come over to study at her house as usual. No specific reason, just a single, strangely cold sentence   and then, silence.

He didn’t really know what he was doing. It was just that his emotions had passed the threshold of what he could bear and he thought… maybe a night apart would make things easier. But this morning, as his eyes unconsciously scanned every hallway, every classroom window, every corner near the southern bench where Relena often stood before the first period, he realized: he had lied to himself.

Relena didn’t show up.

Not at her usual spot in the courtyard, not in the hallway that connected the STEM and ECON wings, not even at the school gate. She was still at school   but avoiding him with a finesse that was frightening.

She didn’t avoid him harshly, she didn’t skip class , s he didn’t do anything that would make others think something was wrong. But to Heero, it was clearer than any spoken word. In the rare moments when their eyes might have met, she turned away. Politely, gently, as if nodding to someone behind him.

Relena was afraid not of him, but of the idea that last night… had been the beginning of the end. If Heero were to say he no longer wanted to study together… then all those quiet moments they had shared would become something vague, undefined. Relena didn’t know what kind of face she was supposed to wear if that happened.

Surprisingly, Heero had lunch with the STEM group today. It was such a rare sight that Duo froze for two seconds before bursting into laughter:

“Whoa, did you win the lottery or something? Or maybe you just got your own manga series and decided to descend from the mountains to mingle with us mortals?”

Wufei calmly set his chopsticks down, eyes sharp as if analyzing a martial arts move hidden in Heero’s choice… of seat.

“As expected. Post-exam neural misalignment hits everyone.”

Trowa said nothing. He simply switched seats to sit next to Quatre, as if making room next to Heero for… someone who clearly hadn’t shown up today. Wufei crossed his arms and nodded, his tone so serious it was hard to tell whether he was being sincere or sarcastic:

“See? The universe is clearly out of order.”

No one mentioned Relena’s name, but everyone knew. Each wore a different expression, but their eyes flicked across the table, exchanging silent signals   the kind that doesn’t require a quantum physics degree to understand.

Heero sat upright, picked exactly two dishes: one piece of steamed egg and a single stalk of bok choy. Then he stared at his tray as if it were an International Math Olympiad question.   He didn’t eat   just stared.   And no one asked, because there was no need to.

Until Dorothy walked in. There was no need for a drumroll or spotlight   Dorothy’s entrance alone was enough to make every head at the table snap up out of reflex. She didn’t sit down, instead, she placed her lunch tray next to Trowa’s and crossed her arms, standing beside the table like a prosecutor about to open her case.

Her sharp gaze zeroed in on Heero.

“What exactly are you trying to do, genius?”

Heero looked up, met her eyes   cold, composed but said nothing. Dorothy raised an eyebrow and tapped her spoon lightly against her glass. The sound was small but struck the air like a gavel marking the start of a trial.

“Relena is not homework. She’s not something you can set aside for a night and expect to still be intact when you come back to it the next day.”

No one dared move their chopsticks. Duo ducked his head down, quietly pulled out his phone, and sent a message to Hilde   like a soldier calling for backup from a warzone. (Hilde read it, her face twisting in panic. The message simply said: “Help.” )

Dorothy went on, her voice sweet as mousse cake—yet each word landed like a punch to the chest:

“I don’t care what you’re feeling. But if you’re planning to disappear just because you’ve started to feel something… then you better not come back at all.”

Heero set his chopsticks down. His fingers curled tightly against the table, knuckles turning pale.

“I’m not…” He stopped   because he honestly didn’t know what he was about to say. He couldn’t deny or confirm it and that was exactly what made everything worse.

Hilde looked over at Duo, her eyes begging: “Say something!” Duo replied with a hopeless expression: “I want to live.”

Dorothy tilted her head slightly, smiling faintly   a kind of smile that left you unsure whether you'd just won or were about to lose a life-or-death match.

“Exactly. You don’t know. But Relena’s the one left guessing.”

The air around the table felt drained of oxygen. Only the soft clink of a spoon tapping a tray broke the silence. Quatre let out a sigh and gently pulled a chilled matcha ice cream from his sleeve—no one knew how he always had emergency desserts ready in high-stress situations and placed it in front of Heero.

“If you don’t want to eat” Quatre said calmly “at least have this. It’s less bitter than being misunderstood.”

Heero looked at the ice cream as if it were a foreign object.   But still, he picked it up and took a small bite. The cold sensation on his tongue made Heero furrow his brows slightly—unclear whether from the chill, or from something welling up inside him that he didn’t know how to name.

Duo glanced over, barely stifling a laugh: “Next time, don’t let Dorothy give you a psychoanalysis. Takes years off your life.”

Heero didn’t respond , b ut for the first time during lunch, he wasn’t staring down at his tray , h e was thinking  h ard. He understood why he had stayed silent: because he was afraid that if he admitted anything, then everything between them would change.   But that same silence… was already changing everything.

Heero walked along the endless hallway, where the light filtered through frosted glass into scattered streaks   like fragmented memories. He had searched nearly every library in Peacecraft   each one a different world, shaped by the soul of its respective academic division. And each one was also a mirror, reflecting a different side of Relena… while simultaneously denying her presence.

The South Library, adjacent to the STEM wing and the white rose garden, was the first place he went. He and Relena used to sit there during late lunch hours, when sunlight slanted in through the tall glass windows and lit up her blonde hair and her notebook. This library was always quiet, but never cold. The open space and natural light made it feel like an emotional lab, where logic and feeling could coexist. The books were neatly divided: medical technology, applied robotics, theoretical space physics. Heero had once sat at table four, researching data on mechanical arms. He still remembered that desk , Relena had once doodled her name in blue ink along its wooden edge. When he returned today, the spot was empty , c lean , n ot a single mark remained.

The North Library, near the POLIS block, had a solemn, old-world gravitas. Tall stone columns, domed ceilings in Roman style. Here, knowledge weighed like the gravity of power. Constitutions, essays on political systems, transcripts from Earth Federation delegates   preserved behind dark glass cabinets. Relena had studied here, Heero knew, but never for long. She disliked the feeling of being bound by outdated rules.
“Sometimes, change comes from silence” she once said “but not from places full of arguments and no humanity.” Heero walked past the shelves like passing through invisible courtrooms, and knew she wasn’t here.

The East Library, near the ARTS section, felt more like an art gallery than an academic space. Wall hangings, soft golden lighting, scattered beanbags. People here read poetry, discussed philosophy, wrote journals in violet ink, and debated existentialism over flower tea. Heero disliked it , t oo soft , t oo much emotion. Not enough structure.   Relena had never been fond of it either, despite Dorothy’s many attempts to bring her along.   Heero merely glanced through the doorway and walked on.

The ECON Library, positioned between the STEM and POLIS blocks like an operational nerve center, housed all things finance and management strategy. Sleek glass-and-steel design, black leather swivel chairs, and screens constantly streaming data. Quatre was often here, debating microeconomics and corporate power structures with Dorothy  but Relena didn’t belong to that cold practicality. She saw people   not just projections on a chart.   Heero paused only briefly, then kept walking.

The West Library  - a forgotten place. It wasn’t near any specific academic block, tucked away beneath the old basement that once housed a mechanical workshop. Heero had only been there once, to look up medical data on neural systems used in bio-synced Mobile Suits. The air there was cold, damp, and dim. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. He remembered the grey-covered books, untitled, marked only by catalog codes. Everything here was hidden, not displayed.

A part of him thought: “Relena wouldn’t be here.”

But emotions no longer waited for reason’s permission.

Heero stopped before a dim hallway where the light no longer followed a nd for the first time in this whole search, he let his heart lead the way.

The old wooden door of the West Library creaked softly as Heero pushed it open. The smell of old paper and book dust rose like a thin fog, wrapping around memories from his early high school years   back when he believed all knowledge could be contained in formulas and diagrams, and feelings were luxuries for those without clear objectives.

There was no direct lighting in this library.   Faint yellow bulbs hung from the ceiling, casting tired glows over timeworn shelves. Wooden racks stood tightly packed, narrow enough that only one person could walk through at a time. The space felt heavy, as if even sound was absorbed by the books.

Heero didn’t search right away.   He walked slowly, eyes scanning the gaps between floor-to-ceiling shelves.   A few students hunched over desks, silent. A few glances met his and quickly turned away.   No one paid attention to him , just as he had stopped paying attention to the world beyond Relena. He passed the librarian , an old man with wild silver hair and glasses slipping down his nose. The man looked at Heero for a moment , a quiet gaze, as if he had seen many lost souls searching for things they couldn’t name , then gave a slight nod, asking no questions.

Heero nodded back. Kept walking d eeper.

The West Library felt like a maze.   No clear signs, no directory maps.   Books stacked loosely on the floor, passageways bending into blind corners.   He walked past a shelf labeled "Post-Traumatic Warfare Psychology" , another marked "Operational History of Interplanetary Healthcare Systems."   It was so silent that even his footsteps felt like intrusions.

He no longer hoped.   He truly didn’t expect to find her here.   Relena   who loved light, roses, the laughter of students in open courtyards , she didn’t belong in a place like this. And maybe… maybe she had never been meant to dwell in the shadows he unconsciously carried with him.  

Heero turned to leave.

Then he saw it , a strange little corner, almost entirely hidden behind stacks of towering books, piled as if untouched for years. He moved closer, squeezing through a narrow gap.   And in that most obscured spot, where light barely reached through a window no larger than a hand…

Someone was sitting on the floor.

Leaning against a bookshelf.   Her long skirt draped neatly around her legs. That familiar brown hair loosened around her shoulders   yet at the point where the sunlight cut through the tiny window, it turned to soft gold, like sunlight resting gently in her hair.

Relena.

There was no mistaking her.   It was the way she tilted her head slightly to the left whenever she was deep in thought, the way her fingers idly spun a fountain pen without writing a single word.   Her gaze wasn’t fixed on the page in front of her, but lost in a distant thought   as if she were speaking to someone invisible.

Heero stopped.   The fact that she hadn’t yet noticed his presence made him hesitate to break the moment. His chest tightened n ot from surprise, but from that quiet ache of seeing something precious where it was never meant to be.

She shouldn’t have to hide in a place like this. Shouldn’t have to seek out a shadowed corner just because he hadn’t had the courage to face her.

He took a slow step forward, then another   careful not to startle her.   When he was just a few paces away, he spoke , h is voice was low, roughened with regret:

“Relena… You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor .  It’s cold.”

She looked up. And those ocean-deep blue eyes: tired, startled, but still as deep and unwavering as the day they first met   locked onto his.

He didn’t say anything else at first. Just looked at her , a nd when she didn’t look away, didn’t speak, didn’t accuse or retreat , just sat there, quietly… That was when Heero finally exhaled , s oftly , l ike someone who had wandered too far and had finally found the way back.

“I’m sorry” he said again , this time quieter, but clearer.

Not because she had to sit here , b ut because he had left her to sit here alone. Heero stood there, gazing at her for a long moment.   He didn’t know where to begin , only that something in his chest was throbbing in slow, painful waves, like something that had been suppressed for too long was finally cracking from within.

His voice broke the silence, soft and low, like a scratch across still water: “Are you… really avoiding me?”

It sounded like a question, but it was clear he already knew the answer. He just wasn’t ready to accept it.

Relena blinked   slowly , h er hand, resting on the notebook beside her, tensed slightly, fingertips gripping the edge of the paper.   But she didn’t turn away , n or did she fully face him.   Her voice was barely audible, drifting through the distance between them like fog:

“…I just wanted a quiet place.”

Heero pressed his lips together.   His expression twitched , a flicker of pain that passed too quickly to be caught by anyone else.   His brows drew in, and his gaze dropped for a brief moment.   Something in his chest stretched tight, straining at the limit, then recoiled   silent and inescapable.

He took a deep breath, then said it   each word sinking like weight into the floor between them:

“I looked for you.”

Just three words , b ut they weren’t like all the times he had reported coordinates or carried out a mission.   They didn’t come from logic, t hey came from the space she had left behind.

Relena tilted her head slightly   just a small movement, but something shifted in her eyes . As if she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.   Then, after a few seconds, she turned toward him  a nd for the first time, her eyes truly met his , n o blame , n o anger. Just sadness , a  sadness so deep that Heero felt if he took even one step back, he might never find the courage to step forward again.

“I thought… you wouldn’t come.”

Heero’s lips tugged into something like a smile, but not quite.

“I thought… I wouldn’t come, either.”

His voice was dry   no longer smooth and mechanical, like something programmed. It sounded like his throat was filled with things he’d never known how to say.

“Then… why did you come, in the end?” Relena asked   not rushing, not pressing , just as if she wanted to hear something real , even if it hurt.

Heero looked at her for a long time , h e had no prepared answer.   His mind was blank : no data, no logic   just the disorientation of someone learning, for the first time, how to face his own emotions.

“…Because I hate the feeling when you’re gone.”

Relena closed her eyes   slowly, wearily.   It wasn’t the answer she had hoped for. But it was the one she needed , b ecause it was true , a nd it hurt.

After a moment, she opened her eyes again, her voice barely more than a breath: “What if… I didn’t want to study anymore?”

Heero flinched, h is hand gripped the edge of the nearby bookshelf, fingers digging into the grain of old wood, as if letting go would make him collapse.

His voice came low, tight, sharp as cold steel: “Don’t try that.”

It wasn’t a threat  or  command.  I t was desperation, disguised as composure. But Relena didn’t flinch, h er gaze remained steady   not accusing, just quietly burdened by something left unsaid.

“If I really dropped out” she asked, as if testing one last hypothesis “what would you do?”

“I…” Heero faltered, h e wanted to give an orderly answer.   But all he could hear was the echo of an unnamed emptiness.

“…I don’t know how to live without you in my schedule.”

A short sentence , b ut it was the first time Heero had said something he couldn’t take back. Relena said nothing , b ut her expression softened.   Like ice finally beginning to melt   not from forgiveness, but from understanding.

“…I thought you’d be relieved” she whispered, eyes still lowered. “Relieved to not be bothered anymore.”

Heero shook his head so fast it was almost instinctive. “You’ve never bothered me” he said urgently, like she had just insulted something sacred.

They fell into silence again.   But this time, it wasn’t heavy , just necessary. Relena let out a soft laugh   not quite bitter, not quite amused. Maybe at herself, maybe at how unguarded Heero looked now in his confusion.

“You know…” she began slowly “I was scared.”

Heero narrowed his eyes, focused on the slightest movement on her face.

“Scared of what?”

“Scared that… if you got used to one day without me, you’d get used to all the rest. That as I disappeared, day by day it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

Her words hit the deepest part of him.   He couldn’t react right away, h e only knew   he’d been losing something far longer than he’d realized.

“…I don’t want to get used to that” he said quietly. “And I… don’t think I could survive it if it became true.”

As the words left his lips, something inside Heero gave way , n o more armor  and control.   Just a boy, standing in front of the girl he couldn’t stop searching for. Relena looked up at him , f or the first time that day, she truly looked   no avoidance, no shield.   And then, in a voice soft as a breath, like the gentlest invitation:

“…Then… will you study with me?”

Heero looked at her, momentarily surprised   then his eyes softened. He didn’t answer right away.   Instead, he stepped forward, bent down, and reached out his hand.

“You can’t sit on the floor.” he said gently, but firmly.

When her hand met his, both of them knew   some truths don’t need to be spoken.   They’ve always been there   just waiting to be touched.

Chapter Text

Neither of them said anything more after that. The West Library remained still bathed in that same slow light filtering through the narrow windows, falling onto the dust-covered floor, where each sunbeam hovered as if it had a shape of its own.

Relena quietly sat back in her spot, the notebook opened in front of her, but she was no longer reading. Heero sat beside her not too close, but his hand rested on the back of her chair. A small, natural gesture, as if the distance between them had never been a problem. Her hair, that soft brown with a hint of gold when caught by sunlight, fell over the shoulder of her white blouse. Fine as silk threads, carrying a faint scent, half like old paper, half like something that could only belong to her. Heero looked at it as if he had seen it a hundred times, but never allowed himself to be this close.

He leaned down very slowly, his fingers brushed lightly against a lock of her hair. A touch, then a pause midway, as if he were fighting himself in the simplest of moments. Then, soundlessly, he brought the strand to his nose, that scent made reason step back inside him.

Relena froze, she instinctively leaned away, her cheek flushing, eyes wide with a surprise she couldn’t hide in time. But before she could fully pull away…

“Don’t move!” Heero said, his voice was low, steady. Like a command that needed no reason.

His eyes locked onto hers the moment she turned back. Then he leaned in closer. Not a kiss but Heero’s breath brushed along the skin of her neck, warm, gentle, just enough to make her shiver.

“I’m not someone easy to be around, Relena.” His voice was low, but each word felt like it had been drawn from an old wound. And in that moment, Heero’s face… It was no longer the expression he wore when teaching, nor the usual silence he carried. It was something else, more primal. Sharp, resolute, leaving her no room to turn away.

“I control everything. Always one step ahead. Always keeping things in check.”

There was no threat in his words, but they exposed what he had always hidden, the truth of someone who lived by control, and feared, more than anything, losing it.

“You should’ve known that earlier. Before making me… care this much.”

Relena tilted slightly, as if trying to find space to breathe. But his eyes, just his eyes stopped her. No hands, no force, just that gaze… like a thin blade resting at her throat. Soft, but no one would dare push against it.

“If I hadn’t come today, how long were you planning to keep running?”

“A week? A month? Or until I forgot you were ever part of my schedule?”

His voice wasn’t bitter. But there was something pounding beneath each word like a heart held back for far too long.

Relena sat frozen, as if even the smallest movement might shatter the fragile air hanging between them. Her face was still flushed not just from the closeness, but from the overwhelming sense that everything Heero had just done and not done carried more weight than a confession ever could. She didn’t know where to look, but his gaze didn’t waver, didn’t retreat and somehow, that made it impossible for her to run.

Relena pressed her lips together, then gently bit the inside, as if trying to keep her words from trembling. She still tried to appear composed, though her voice had softened, melting into the faint rustle of pages turning somewhere deep in the library.

“…If I’m no longer the one you tutor…”

Her voice grew smaller, her eyes turning away as if even asking the question felt like stepping too close to something dangerous.

“…then what will we be? Classmates? Acquaintances in the same school? Or just a… passing memory?” 

There was no accusation, no resentment in her voice. Just a quiet doubt like a hairline crack running through trust.

“Will you still look at me the same way? Like a responsibility… or something else?”

Heero didn’t answer right away. He leaned in closer, still holding a lock of her hair lightly between his fingers. The sunlight cut across, making each brown-gold strand shimmer in the space between them, too close now to ignore. His breath skimmed the skin behind her ear, no actual contact… But near enough to leave her motionless.

“Relena.” 

His voice was low and steady.

“If there’s no more bond between a tutor and the one being tutored…”

He paused… His gaze locked onto hers.

“…then I have no reason to hold back anymore.”

Relena froze, her cheeks flushed, but not from embarrassment. For the first time, Relena realized: What lay beneath Heero’s quiet mask wasn’t peace. It was control: A cold, possessive kind as if she was no longer someone to be loved, but something he couldn't afford to lose. And that control… It was the final layer he clung to, the last shell keeping distance between them.

Heero didn’t kiss her. Didn’t cross the line. But in not touching her, in deliberately choosing not to: he made the clearest statement of all:

You belong to me.

And Relena understood. If Heero ever let go of that last thread of restraint… He wouldn’t let her leave again. Not with words but with everything else he had.

--------------------------

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows of the POLIS corridor, casting warm, velvety streaks across the stone floor. The air had softened since noon no longer heavy with heat, but bathed instead in golden light like melted honey: thin, quiet, and gentle.

Relena walked beside Heero, the phone in her hand vibrating lightly. She glanced down at the screen and let out a soft laugh, a sound so small, yet it made the whole hallway seem to smile along.

“Duo just texted.” she tilted slightly toward Heero, her tone playfully teasing “asking me to lead a ‘cake heist’ in the POLIS cafeteria.”

The screen was still lit, displaying the message:

“Lenaaaa help us! Only you can tame the mob of underclassmen in line!!! The whipped cream cake is 50% off!!”

Followed by a stream of emojis: forks, birthday cake, and… a white flag.

Relena covered her mouth as she laughed, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. For the first time that day, the calm, composed look she always wore gave way to something lighthearted, almost childlike.

“Cute, right?” she tilted her head, still smiling.

“Wanna join me in the great ‘POLIS operation’?”

Heero glanced at the screen, then at her, she stood with one shoulder slightly tilted, her hair swept to the side, and the sunlight wrapped around her like a soft halo, glowing over her light brown strands. She seemed to merge with the air around them still, quiet, but vibrantly alive in her own way.

He didn’t answer right away, just looked at her for one more second, a second long enough to make her blink, her heart beat just a little faster, not because of anything dramatic… but because of that look. The look of someone who had never made promises, but had always shown up, always been there.

“…If it’s where you want to go” Heero said softly, eyes never leaving her “then I’ll go with you.”

It wasn’t an invitation, not even a simple agreement. It was a quiet guarantee, his way of anchoring himself beside her, without needing to say the words. Relena held his gaze for another beat. The sunlight in the hallway seemed to slow down as if the world had paused, just for a moment, to hold onto this. This quiet, warm moment that somehow set her heart at ease as if everything tangled inside her had been gently sorted by that one line.

She smiled again this time without covering it, letting it bloom fully across her face.

“Then get ready” she teased “Duo’s about to turn the cafeteria into a war zone.”

Their footsteps echoed lightly down the corridor, blending into the soft afternoon light. Everything felt slower, just a beat off from reality, like the world had paused simply to hold onto this fragment of time. A warm moment…

…Meanwhile, in the STEM hallway, the atmosphere had a completely different tone.

“This afternoon, I have a mission of global significance” Duo declared, slapping a hand dramatically onto Quatre’s shoulder as though he'd just received a top-level government order.

Quatre nearly dropped his pen, turning with a look of wary suspicion. With an expression full of unjustified confidence, Duo pulled from his bag a flyer so crumpled it looked like it had survived a battlefield:

“POLIS Bakery, 50% off all sweets starting at 4 p.m. until sold out. Brothers, you see this? This isn’t a discount. This is a call from the universe.”

Wufei glanced up indifferently from his international law textbook.

“You planning to go alone? Or just looking to start another food line riot like last time?”

“No” Duo cleared his throat “this time, I have a clear objective: take Relena out for dessert. Consider it a peace offering after this afternoon’s talk with Dorothy.”

Quatre raised an eyebrow, head tilted slightly.

“You think she’ll say yes?”

“I dropped a hint at lunch. She just said, ‘We’ll see,’ and smiled light as a breeze. I take that as at least a flashing yellow, possibly even a green.”

“Could’ve been a red” Trowa murmured from the window, not even turning his head.

Hilde crossed her arms, half-serious, half-curious. “You’re not afraid Heero’s going to kick you into orbit?”

“For a slice of mango mousse soft as velvet and flan tender as the heart of a remorseful man, I accept all risks.” Duo slung his backpack on and raised a hand like he was swearing in front of a national flag.

“For the honor of the misunderstood! For the sacred mission of uniting Heero and Relena… through sugar! I’m off.”

A few minutes later, once the laughter had settled in the classroom, the door slid open quietly. Heero walked in, Quatre looked up just in time, his eyes pausing for the briefest beat. Heero didn’t look out of place, his hair was neat, hands empty, uniform crisp.

Just a bit quieter than usual, but this was Heero quiet was his default.

Quatre smiled and tilted his head slightly, asking gently,

“All good now?”

Heero gave a small nod, subtle, but firm. No one asked anything further, no one noticed anything else. No one knew that just ten minutes earlier, his gaze had softened because of one small question:

“Do you want to go eat cake with me?”

-----------------------

That afternoon, the sunlight filtered through a veil of mist — pale gold and gentle, as if pain had no place in the world. Heero stood at the entrance of the POLIS block, where the Political and Human Sciences classes were held. Leaning lightly against the railing, hands tucked into the pockets of his school uniform jacket, he cast occasional glances toward the white-stone corridor — the path where Relena would appear.

One minute… two minutes… and then she came into view, as if stepping out of an oil painting: long hair flowing softly, the ends brushing over a thin dress, catching the sunlight like glistening moss. Her eyes lit up when she saw him. She waved, smiling a quiet, unadorned smile meant only for the one who had been waiting.

“Hee—”

Her call was cut short. Heero didn’t know why his heart clenched in that instant. A strange sound rang out above the screech of loosening metal, something heavy slipping free from its hold. Instinct, honed through hundreds of hours of simulated emergencies, surged to the surface.

His gaze snapped upward toward the roof of the corridor and he saw it.

A temporary scaffold under maintenance, supposed to be secured by four safety locks, now swayed wildly out of control. One support beam gave way, dragging the entire structure down toward the spot where Relena had just stepped.

“RELENA!!”

Heero shouted. He ran, feet barely touching the ground but he wasn’t fast enough. A harsh, metallic crash split the air as the scaffolding collapsed like a massive steel serpent.

In that moment, time exploded inside Heero’s mind. By the time he reached her, she was already lying beneath the cold, tangled wreckage of steel. Heavy metal rods, twisted and overlapping, formed a chaotic heap no one dared approach afraid that a single wrong move might make things worse. But Heero didn’t stop.

“Step back.” His voice was low, firm no longer that of a student.

With one arm, just one, he began lifting each bar off her body. No one could understand how. Maybe it was adrenaline, or fear, or maybe… it was simply because it was Relena. Her hair was disheveled, fanned out like silk caught in the wind. One shoulder soaked in red. The white blouse she wore today was now unrecognizable. But her face… her face still wore a faint smile.

Faint, but unmistakable. She reached out to him, bloodied fingers trembling.

“Hee... ro…”

“Don’t speak” Heero knelt beside her. His hands trembled for the first time, but he held hers tightly.

“Relena… open your eyes. Look at me. Please don’t scare me…”

His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. He leaned closer, his brown hair brushing against her cheek, as if to hold onto her last breath.

“Just once more… open your eyes…”

The crash of the collapsing scaffolding echoed throughout the POLIS block, freezing everyone nearby in place. Within seconds, the sound of hurried footsteps pounded against the tile floor, teachers, students, and the entire group from STEM were already rushing toward the northern corridor, where dust still hung in the air like mist.

And then they saw it, time seemed to freeze. Relena lay motionless, her head resting gently against Heero’s chest. Her hair, wild and unraveled, fanned out like torn silk. A trail of blood streamed down from her temple, tracing the curve of her pale cheek and soaking through her collar. Her eyes were closed. Her lips parted slightly, as if trying to call out a name she never got to say.

Kneeling among the twisted remnants of steel, Heero cradled her in his arms. His hands were smeared with blood whose, no one could tell yet he held her tightly, as if she were the only thing left intact in the world.

He didn’t blink, speak or move. He sat there, completely still. The sun had already begun to dip westward, casting a slanted light that fell over them, surrounding the two in a muted glow, a silent tableau in the heart of a tragedy.

“Oh God… Relena…?” Quatre was the first to speak, though his voice barely rose above a whisper. He took a single step forward, then froze.

Behind him, Trowa gripped the strap of his bag so tightly his knuckles whitened, eyes locked on the steady drops of blood pattering onto the floor one after another. His face remained expressionless, but his gaze was heavy with despair. Wufei turned away, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. “What the hell…?” he managed to say, but no one answered.

Dorothy… she had never seen Relena look so fragile. One side of her lip trembled, as if to speak, but instead, she grabbed Quatre’s hand and squeezed it hard, her nails digging into his skin. And Hilde… stood frozen at the far end of the corridor. She had just arrived with the others from STEM, not yet understanding what had happened but her legs refused to move. Her eyes widened, breath catching in her throat. No, It couldn’t be. Not Relena.

“No…” she whispered, taking a half-step back.

Duo stepped in front of her, blocking her line of sight. He raised one hand gently, his eyes fixed on Heero. His voice, unusually low, broke the silence.

“Don’t look.”

“But—”

“Don’t!” he said again, this time barely audible. Not to hide the truth but because he knew this image would haunt them for a long time.

A teacher cautiously approached.

“Heero, let us take Relena to the infirmary. Heero, listen to me—”

He didn’t respond. Not a glance, not a flicker of recognition. His grip only tightened.

“We need medical support” a nurse murmured. “He’s in severe shock.”

“Call for three more people” a teacher said firmly.

It took a whole team: two teachers, a security guard, and even Trowa and Wufei to step in and help. Yet Heero didn’t resist, he didn’t fight, he simply held onto Relena as if trying to keep a fragile flame from dying out. And when, finally, his hands were gently pried away bit by bit, he still didn’t lift his head, didn’t look at anyone.

His face… held no tears. Only the hollow, devastating gaze of someone who had just lost the one thing that ever softened his world.

Relena was carried away on a stretcher, hair still damp with blood trailing over her shoulder, her face turned slightly toward him as if even now, she was still trying to lean into the warmth of the chest she had always known… and never wanted to leave.

Chapter Text

Central City Hospital.

Heero…

Cold light flooded the room. Heero bent forward, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his body trembling as if it could not keep its balance for long. Even after trying to stand, he felt his breath tighten, as though some distant memory was rising again—the vague sensation that always came whenever he remembered his mother. But this time, it was different.

This time, it was Relena.

He remembered her eyes, half-open, their weakness suffocating; her hand reaching toward him, desperately trying to touch and failing; and then… calling his name. The fragile sound slipped from pale lips exactly like that last night—the last time he had heard his name from his mother’s mouth.

Those two syllables struck straight into his chest, leaving a new wound stacked upon the old. This new wound was deeper, quieter, spreading in silence.

Heero felt every movement within himself fracturing. His lungs seemed bound, the pressure in his chest rising without relief—breathless, yet his heart pounded, as if resisting. It was a state he knew too well to need a name: the boundary between the instinct to fight and the edge of panic. The automatic reflex once “programmed” for survival had now become the chain binding him between past and present.

He did not lift his head.

His vacant gaze fixed on the cold white tiles, where the fluorescent light fell in a detached, indifferent streak. His lips pressed tightly together; his face seemed drained of all life, as if something inside had been hollowed out.

Beyond the door lay the hospital corridor: footsteps, nurses calling, the clatter of passing gurneys—each sound swallowed whole behind the closed door of the counseling room. In that stillness, the soft click of the door opening cut into the heavy silence like a blade.

Odin entered first. His gray suit held not a single crease, yet the dust on his shoulders and the depth of his eyes revealed something never before shown in front of the group of friends: fatigue. Following him was Vice—quiet, but not indifferent. His gaze lingered on Heero for a long moment before moving slowly to the man standing beside him.

Odin did not rush. There were no opening remarks, no “Are you alright?”, no soothing words. But he called,

“Heero.”

The boy did not answer, did not turn.

Only seconds later came a whisper, pulled from somewhere deep in his throat.

“I failed again…”

Odin stopped in his tracks. The air in the room seemed to thicken.

“I couldn’t save Mother…”

“…and now… I couldn’t save her either.”

Heero’s voice broke on the last word, choked by something deeper than fear—the uselessness of someone who thought he had been trained never to fail.

“I learned everything you taught me. Medicine, evacuation, trauma management, blood control… But it still wasn’t enough, still not enough…”

Heero trembled, the shaking coming from deep within his bones. Then, as though a cord had snapped, he stood abruptly, staggered a few steps, and collapsed forward against the desk. His hands pressed into the cold wood, his shoulders straining but unable to hold; it was as if he were trying to keep himself from falling apart.

Outside, his friends stood behind the frosted glass door. No one dared enter. No one interrupted. But every one of them was there: Duo, his eyes wider than they had ever seen; Hilde, covering her mouth as though afraid her sobs might escape; Quatre, standing closest to the door, his face pale; Wufei, his brows drawn tightly; and Trowa and Dorothy, silent to the point of unsettling anyone who looked at them.

No one could speak. They had never seen Heero like this and perhaps… they had never truly known who he was.

Odin stepped toward his son, standing behind him without touching.

“No.”

He spoke slowly, each word nailed into the air.
“Heero, you did exactly what needed to be done.”

Outside the glass door, the group of friends all turned toward him at once. Their eyes met, trading disbelief, confusion, and doubt.

Odin lifted his gaze to Heero. His voice was no longer the steady cadence of a report; it carried a faint tremor not from emotion, but from a man who had seen something others could not.

“If you hadn’t reacted in that moment… If you hadn’t pulled those steel rods from her body before they drove in deeper… there would have been no chance at all.”

“If you hadn’t stopped the bleeding, held the right position, applied enough pressure to keep her blood from spilling out… she would have been gone.”

No numbers, none were needed. The way he spoke precise, uncompromising made everyone understand: Relena was alive because of Heero’s every decision.

A slow bow of the head, Heero’s shoulders still trembling.
“But if she doesn’t wake up… what do any of those things mean?”

His voice sounded as though it had been dragged from the very bottom of despair. His arms still rested on the desk, but his body had no strength left. His eyes stared downward, seeing nothing.

Odin looked at him for a long time before speaking again, his tone low but exact.
“She isn’t dead.”
“She’s alive.”

Those words rang out like the single toll of a bell, shaking the collapsing world in Heero’s mind. But he did not lift his head, he did not answer. Perhaps… he could no longer hear. He was already drifting.

Part of him was sinking into another reality, one without the smell of antiseptic, without the stark white glare, without the sounds of friends arguing outside. In that place, there was only a girl with golden hair and a blue dress, sitting on a bench beneath a tree in POLIS.

She smiled and reached her hand toward him. And in that instant, he whispered,
“Relena…”

The room sank into a dense silence. No one touched him. No one knew what was happening inside a mind turned inside out by the fear of losing someone.

Heero still did not lift his head. The world around him seemed soundless. His hand tightened slightly on the edge of the desk, the knuckles whitening from the force. His breathing was uneven, as though something were crushing his chest. In his mind, everything blurred, leaving only Relena’s face, her hand reaching for him amid the chaos.

In that single heartbeat, he felt something he had never dared to think before:
If this world had hurt her, if the people around her, the teachers, the friends, the expectations, the festivals, the politics, every collision could bring her to the point of collapse…

…then why should he allow her to go back to it?

The thought slipped in lightly, but cut deep like a first wound.

Heero wasn’t thinking of leaving her. He was thinking of taking her away from it all. Placing her somewhere no one could hurt her again. A quiet place where there would be only the two of them, with no threat, no memory of blood, steel, or panicked screams.

A place where no one could touch Relena… except him.

The thought had no words yet, no action. But it was there, heavy in the emptiness of Heero’s gaze, hidden behind the grip of his hand on the desk, in the slight hitch of his breathing.

No one in that room not even Odin noticed. No one knew that while everyone else argued about right and wrong, rescue or blame… Heero Yuy was sliding into a dark corner of himself he had never known existed. And in that place he no longer wanted to protect Relena in this world. He only wanted to keep her with him forever by any means.

The air in the hallway thickened, not because of shouting, but because of the silence stretched tight between the witnesses and a father.

Odin stepped out of the room. The door closed behind him, leaving only a thin barrier between what Heero was enduring inside and the truth erupting outside.

Dorothy was the first to speak. Her voice was level, cold, yet each word rang with the clarity of metal striking stone.
“From the very beginning… you knew Heero wasn’t just another student.”

Duo stood close, his eyes fixed on Odin’s face.
“What exactly did you train your son to become?” His voice was low, not sharp, but enough to silence everyone.
“You turned him into a robot. A machine that can analyze, act, and hold himself together so he won’t collapse. To save people.”

Duo swallowed hard, his eyes reddening. “But did you ever teach him how to live, if the person he loves dies?”

Wufei clenched his fists, his voice low and tight with anger.
“He reacted like a rapid-response unit on a battlefield. No hesitation, no deviation… as if he’d been doing it all his life.”

Quatre, silent until now, finally spoke. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was the kind of statement no one could dispute.
“His mind was running an algorithm… while his heart was tearing apart.”

Trowa, the quietest of them all, spoke for the first time.
“We all learned evacuation skills, scene control… But by the time I got there, Heero had already done everything. Without a moment’s pause.”

Duo gave a short, bitter laugh.
“The first time I ever saw him act like a real person… was when she showed up. Before that, he was just a mannequin. And all of us, we thought we were just tagging along after a walking block of ice.”

Odin remained silent before them all, neither denying nor explaining. The way he stood straight, his gaze unwavering, only made the truth more suffocating: the truth that the boy sitting in that room had been forced to become a survival tool, rather than a human being with the right to be afraid.

Hilde stood nearby, stunned. She had never thought that Duo the one who always joked and kept things light would be the one to react most fiercely. Something inside her suddenly grew heavy.

Quatre stepped closer and placed a hand on Hilde’s shoulder, light as air.
“Duo… was the first person to talk to Heero” he said softly, his eyes still on the hospital room where Heero sat with his head bowed, his hands pressed over his face as if trying to crush the memory out of himself. “From the very first day of school.”

A morning far away in memory.

The atmosphere in the lounge had settled after Odin and Vice left, leaving the group of students sitting in silence on the long leather benches. The dim lights cast a soft glow, and the hum of the air conditioner sounded like the steady breathing of someone struggling to keep calm. Each of them carried a heavy piece of thought after the conversation with the two fathers—men who knew better than anyone how the name Heero Yuy had been made.

On the bench in front of the hospital room, the group sat in a row, no one speaking. The white hallway of the psychiatric wing was already quiet, but the silence now felt oppressive like even a sigh could make the wall behind them collapse.

A wall clock ticked slowly, stretching each minute as if time had been frozen. They all knew Heero was inside, but none knew when he would speak—or whether he still had the strength to.

Duo leaned his head back, his fingers interlaced behind his neck, his eyes shut as if opening them would show him something he couldn’t bear to see. Wufei sat with arms folded, his gaze fixed on the floor. Trowa’s head was lowered, his hair hiding most of his face, only the faint tapping of his fingers on his knee betraying that he was thinking.

Hilde sat slightly apart, holding a cup of water still faintly warm. She wasn’t close to Heero—if anything, she was a little afraid of him but watching someone fall apart like this made her chest tighten.

Only Quatre sat in the middle, back straight, his gaze steady. He was like the last anchor—not because he was the strongest, but because he was the only one who always tried to hold everyone together.

Quatre leaned back, his eyes tilting toward Hilde, the only one in the group who hadn’t seen everything from the start.
“You want to know why we’re all this close, don’t you?”
“The truth is we didn’t know each other before. At first, it was a mess.”

Duo gave a low whistle, leaning back and throwing an arm across the back of Wufei’s seat as if to lighten the heavy air.

“Yeah, a real mess. First morning of school, and there we were supposedly these ‘elite students’ looking like we’d wandered into the wrong marketplace.”

The gates of the Peacecraft campus opened for the first time to the new intake. The sky that day had been as clear as it was now but the feeling was completely different.

New students stood scattered, looking lost in every direction. No one knew exactly where their classrooms were, and the school map was a maze.

In one corner of the courtyard, a boy in the STEM uniform stood studying the map, his gaze sharp as if analyzing a tactical plan. He didn’t ask anyone for help, didn’t look like he planned to—just quietly observing and committing the layout to memory.

Duo, wearing his backpack slung across one shoulder and his hair tied back, walked up, narrowing his eyes.
“You’re in STEM too, right? We’re wearing the same thing.”

Heero didn’t answer. Just glanced at him briefly.

“I’m new here. Don’t know the way to the conference hall to turn in my forms. Do you know where it is?”

Heero stayed silent for a moment, then pointed toward an eastern hallway. He said nothing more.

Quatre, who had just stepped out of the ECON office a few meters away being a special dual-enrollment student who had to file extra forms for STEM witnessed the moment: Duo kept talking, Heero kept silent… but their footsteps began to move in the same direction.

After that, no one said anything. Wufei would never admit he followed them because he wasn’t sure of the map either. Trowa came from a different direction, said nothing, but was the one who pointed out the right first room. And then… they became friends. No one knew why, and no one asked. Heero had never smiled at anyone, but he had never once pushed them away.

Dorothy had not appeared yet. Relena had not transferred to the school. The group was already taking shape—unnamed, but quietly forming.

“In fact… during the first month, Heero didn’t say anything except ‘Yes,’ ‘No,’ or just nodding. But he never avoided anyone, as if he was simply there to complete the lineup.”

“Yeah,” Duo nodded sharply, “...that kind of silence really makes people uncomfortable. But I liked it.”

Wufei frowned. “You like being ignored?”

“I said I like a challenge. Not everyone is lucky enough to get that ‘I won’t kill you, but don’t try that again’ look from Heero.”

Everyone burst out laughing. Trowa only smiled faintly, his eyes still fixed on the glass of water turning slowly in his hand.

“And then the next month…” Quatre continued “Do you all remember? Out of nowhere, Heero started showing more expression. Not exactly cheerful, but he smiled, no, smirked when Duo slipped and fell right in front of the classroom door.”

“Hey!” Duo protested. “That was a historic turning point. The first time Heero said something that sounded like a joke: ‘The coefficient of friction wasn’t enough to stop your momentum.’ And then he looked at me like ‘Stupid, but lucky to be alive.’”

“And Duo kept quiet for three days” Wufei added dryly.

“That was because I bit my tongue, not because Heero embarrassed me!”

Another wave of laughter followed.

Trowa spoke, his voice as light as wind passing by. “He left earlier than us every day. Did lab work as fast as if he were racing a deadline.”

“Yeah, and when asked, he just said ‘busy.’ None of us had the time to be curious anyway” Wufei said with a nod.

Then, as if to dispel the heaviness in the air, Trowa spoke again, gently. “I remember the time Duo fell down the stairs and Heero didn’t catch him—just asked ‘Are your knee joints malfunctioning?’”

“That time I almost got angry, but with Heero’s deadpan face, I couldn’t win an argument” Duo said with a wry smile. “Truth is… from the beginning, he was already different from us.”

Wufei nodded. “Yeah. But at least, he still walked down the same hallways with us.”

“And he still does” Trowa said softly.

The group fell silent again. But this time, there was no heaviness in it.

Quatre smiled and leaned back in his chair. “There’s something funny. The first time we… forced Heero to stay for a group study.”

“It was for the mechanical dynamics project demo, remember?” Trowa prompted.

“Right.” Quatre nodded. “We had to submit the video before 9 a.m. the next morning, but at that time, we didn’t even have a script. Heero was about to leave at six, so we had to swear on our lives that we’d finish early.”

Duo grimaced. “Who knew it would drag on past eight… He kept looking at the clock like he had an appointment with the president.”

Hilde chuckled softly. “So it was because of tutoring?”

Wufei nodded. “Heero’s the kind of person who keeps a schedule like the military. Even a one-minute delay irritates him.”

“But that day he didn’t get angry” Quatre said, his tone a little lower. “He just ran. As if something was already waiting for him.”

“Yeah, right when we left the classroom, we heard students talking loudly” Duo continued, resting his chin in his hand. “That there was a ‘princess’ sitting in the library reading. Not wearing a uniform. Everyone thought she was an outsider visiting the school, but no one dared to approach.”

“The POLIS students even said she looked like she had stepped out of a European oil painting” Trowa repeated the rumor from back then, half-serious.

“Some said she was waiting for someone. Others said that seeing her sit alone was like watching a melancholy scene in a film.”

Hilde frowned slightly, her eyes puzzled. “And Heero… ran there?”

Quatre laughed. “He really did. Said nothing and gave no explanation, just took off. The rest of us could only look at each other and follow.”

“And that scene” Duo shrugged “you can’t ever forget.”

“He stood frozen at the library door ” Wufei said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

“That brown-gold haired princess… was Relena.”

The group fell silent for a moment.
In that brief pause, each of them recalled the image—the girl sitting sideways by the library window, sunlight spilling over the white folds of her dress, a strand of honey-colored hair falling gently over her shoulder. No one could explain how Heero knew, or how he could recognize her amidst all those unfounded rumors. But the shock in his eyes then, and the absolute certainty within them, had spoken for him.

Quatre slowly turned to Hilde with a discreet smile.
“From that point on… you know the rest.”

No one spoke. Only the faint chime of the wind bell outside the window could be heard, as if part of a memory was still drifting down the library hallway of that year.

Quatre quietly brought the story to an end. His smile faded into something faintly sad as he turned to Hilde.
“You asked why Duo reacted so strongly? Because if Heero lost Relena… he wouldn’t just lose someone he loves. He’d lose the very reason he exists in this world.”

“Duo was the first person to ever reach Heero. The first to try and pull him out of his frozen shell. And Relena…” Quatre’s voice slowed.
“…is the first person Heero ever stepped toward on his own.”

Hilde lowered her head. The soft beeping of the heart monitor echoed faintly in the air, thick with grief.

“All we can do is wait,” Quatre said. “Wait for Relena to open her eyes. And… wait for Heero to wake up again.”

Inside.

The room was white to the point of indifference. The light from the ceiling spilled onto his disheveled hair, casting a faint reflection on the pallor of Heero’s cheek. He sat motionless, shoulders drawn tight, as if a single deep breath could shatter everything.

His head was bowed, both hands gripping his hair, covering his face and eyes—or perhaps hiding something else moving quietly within. His breaths were shallow and uneven, as if he were trying to inhale a world that had no air left.

Inside his mind, memories played back in slow, cold, soundless fragments: blood… the clatter of falling metal… a voice calling her name, cut short in midair… Relena… fading away.

And Heero knew: he could never allow that to happen again. Never again.

A voice without shape or tone began to stir in his mind.
“Do not hand her to anyone.”

It was not a command. Only a low hum, like the echo of something ancient, deep, and undeniably true.

Heero’s body gave a small jolt, as though clarity had brushed against him, before slipping away again.

“No. I can control this. Everything is still within my grasp.” He repeated it like a line of self-written code.

But beneath that conscious layer, something else was growing—fast, silent, and unruly.

An instinct, stripped of right or wrong, logic or reason.
Only the raw, undiluted drive remained:
Hold on. Separate. Possess.
Protect—at all costs.

A hairline fracture, seemingly harmless, had begun to form—yet deep enough to wash away whatever part of him was still human.

Heero still believed he was fine, still believed he was Heero Yuy, the one who always knew what needed to be done. But his hands were trembling, and his heartbeat was slipping out of rhythm. No one outside could hear the breaking. No one could see the face hidden behind his hands.

…No one could see that what was growing inside him was no longer pain.

It was an idea.

An invisible order, nameless and wordless, yet heavy as fate:
Take Relena away. Keep her. From everything. From the world itself.

White light slanted across his sweat-damp hair, illuminating half his face—the half that was still Heero.

The other half…
…had already begun to sink into shadow.

A short, sharp beep—like the slice of a knife—pierced the stillness of the isolation ward in the middle of the night. Every doctor froze and turned toward the monitor in unison. Relena’s heart rate line had spiked into a sudden, unnatural peak before plunging toward a deadly flatline.

“She’s under severe stimulation,” the head doctor said, tightening his mask, his voice hoarse and edged with both caution and urgency. “Heart rate’s doubled, risk of acute seizure… prep cardiac stabilizers, now!”

“…She’s crying,” a nurse whispered, her eyes fixed on Relena’s face, where a single tear slid slowly from the corner of her closed eye, tracing down to her temple, while her body lay motionless under the cold, sterile light.

No one spoke. For a moment, the whole room seemed to hold its breath.

Then someone murmured, trembling,
“She just called someone’s name…”

A doctor bent closer, bringing the sensor mic to her lips. Her mouth barely moved, her voice little more than a broken breath—but the system caught it:
“…Heero…”

On the other side of the soundproof hallway, Heero sat with his head bowed, hands clenched in his hair, his entire being submerged beneath a silent, crushing wave. No one said a word. Quatre, Trowa, Wufei, and Duo stood nearby, taking turns to watch him under the psychiatrist’s instructions.

But none of them truly knew what to do. They had never seen Heero like this—not in his usual cold fury, not in his detached silence. This was something… far more elusive than despair.

His shoulders twitched once then again.

He slowly lifted his head, eyes wide and empty until suddenly, like being yanked back from the abyss, clarity blazed in them.
“She’s calling me.”

His voice was low, hoarse, distorted as if it came from somewhere deep and alien within himself.

No one had time to react.

CRASH! The heavy metal door slammed open under a single kick. Surveillance equipment clattered to the floor. Quatre reached out instinctively but was thrown aside.

“Heero—STOP!” Wufei shouted in shock.
“BLOCK HIM!” Duo bellowed.

Heero tore down the corridor like a storm. Three security guards moved to intercept, but they were no match for someone trained for the battlefield. A swift pivot, an elbow strike—two men dropped instantly. The third barely drew breath before his throat was locked; he was unconscious in three seconds.

Heero wasn’t wild, he wasn’t unstable. On the contrary—his entire presence radiated a chilling, razor-sharp awareness.

Quatre’s eyes went wide.
“He’s not out of control—he knows exactly what he’s doing!”

Trowa and Wufei lunged from either side, while Duo closed in from behind to pin Heero’s arms. Quatre didn’t think, he simply threw himself forward, locking his arms tight around Heero’s waist. Heero thrashed like a cornered animal, his breath ragged, his body drawn taut like steel wire. But… he didn’t strike them. Not once. He only struggled, violently, as though if they held him one second longer, something irretrievable would be lost.

“Let me go!” His voice cracked, almost breaking into a sob. “I have to go—she’s on the edge! I can feel it! She’s calling me… If I don’t—”

“DO YOU WANT TO GET YOU BOTH KILLED?!” Duo shouted, losing his grip on his own composure. “DAMMIT—YOUR OLD MAN MADE A MONSTER!”

For a heartbeat, Heero froze. His eyes flickered—wild, burning with impulse—his chest heaving in sharp, uneven bursts.

In the operating room, amid the relentless hum of machines, Relena whispered again—this time clearer:
“Heero… please don’t go… please don’t leave me…”

A breath. Another tear.

She was not awake, but within the depths of her coma, her mind clung to a single fragile thread: his name, that memory, that longing smoldering into a burn etched into her soul.

Beneath the frozen shell of skin and IV lines, her heart was fighting with every pulse—not for life itself. But for the one somewhere outside, lost, desperate, calling her name with the last instinctive fragment of his humanity.

The white, sterile light poured over Relena’s fragile form. Her chest jerked faintly under the electrodes. Cold sweat began to gather at her temple. The doctors surrounded her, hands moving without pause to adjust the cardiac monitor and oxygen pressure.

“Her heart’s recovering… but the rhythm is unstable” the head doctor murmured, eyes locked on the screen. “She’s holding on to something. She doesn’t want to go.”

A faint breath escaped her dry, pale lips:
“Don’t leave me…”

That whisper, weak as an echo from the bottom of a chasm, struck Heero like a steel bell.

Somewhere else, down the ward’s long hallway, Heero was pinned to the floor, sweat soaking through the back of his shirt. His four friends and the remaining guards pressed their full weight against a body that felt moments from breaking apart under a nameless, surging force.

Trowa gripped his shoulders, sweat beading on his forehead. Duo clenched his teeth, struggling to restrain the arm that lashed with each beat, as if it could tear through any resistance. Quatre’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper, almost pleading:
“Heero, listen—don’t break here! She needs you where you are! Please… you have to wait!”

They stood at opposite ends of an invisible thread, and when one side trembled, breathing out a final call, the other seemed to explode within their chest.

“Let me go…!” Heero shouted—not in anger, but as if he himself were being torn away from a dream he could never return to.
“I hear her! I feel her! She’s calling me! I have to go!”

At that same moment, in the operating room, Relena convulsed lightly once more. Her heart rate spiked sharply. A doctor exclaimed,
“An emotional surge is stimulating her central nervous system—she’s fighting to come back!”

She was lost, drifting in a blinding white emptiness. No sound, no one around. Only one thing guided her—the image of someone… and his name.

Relena walked barefoot through the chaos, reaching forward with trembling hands. Her eyes remained closed, but her voice rose again, thin as a breath falling onto snow:
“Heero… don’t leave me…”

“She’s somewhere I can’t reach,” he murmured, “and I… I’m not myself anymore if I can’t pull her back.”

For the first time, Wufei faltered. Quatre looked at Heero and for the first time, truly understood that what was awakening inside their friend was not madness. Not disorder. Not loss of control.
It was love, in the most primal shape of survival instinct. They were both drowning in different ways, and only when one survived could the other return.

…The air in the operating room, frozen like a lake about to seal over, suddenly shifted.
On the ECG monitor, jagged peaks slowed and began to steady. A long, steady beep rang from the machine, signaling that Relena’s heartbeat had returned to normal range.

The doctors almost sighed in unison. One pulled off his mask, wiped his brow, and whispered as if afraid to break something fragile,
“She’s stable. She’s out of immediate danger.”

A nurse quickly brushed away a tear. No one needed to say it, but for nearly twenty minutes the atmosphere had been stretched like a string ready to snap. The girl lying there was still unconscious, but her skin had regained a faint flush, her lips no longer pale. The heart rate chart had crossed back into the realm of the living.

Under the surgical lights, tears still clung to Relena’s cheeks but this time, they weren’t born of panic or pain. They were like… the first drops of rain after a long drought.

“She cried… the whole time,” a nurse said softly. “But not from pain. It was like… like someone was calling her back.”

The doctor glanced at the monitors and nodded.
“She chose to come back.”

Heero stopped at the exact moment Relena crossed the threshold. In the corridor, steeped in the scent of antiseptic, amid the pounding of breath and the erratic echo of footsteps on tile, he halted as if caught by an unseen hand. His whole body felt drained, his breathing slowed, and his eyes blinked once before settling, unmoving—as though the world itself had pressed pause.

The eruption that had consumed him in the last fifteen minutes now lay in silent aftershock. His gaze was no longer fierce, no longer empty. It had simply… softened. Like a lake after a storm. Like someone who had burst free from a fever and touched a boundary that needed no words, he knew: she had stayed.

“…She stayed…” Heero murmured, voice thin as a thread, as if reminding himself—or answering on behalf of the whole world.

No one spoke. The ragged breathing faded, leaving a strange stillness that felt almost sacred. Quatre’s hand still gripped Heero’s arm, unmoving. Trowa braced himself on one palm, not yet rising. Duo sat slumped on the floor, his shoulder torn in his shirt, eyes wide, mouth ajar as if unable to believe what he’d just witnessed. Wufei leaned against the wall, sweat tracing his cheek, his gaze fixed on Heero—the friend who, for an instant, had become something entirely different… and then returned, all in the space of a heartbeat.

A doctor rushed toward them from the far end of the corridor, his lab coat still unbuttoned. He was breathless, face flushed, but his eyes lit up as if reborn.

“Relena’s going to be fine” he blurted, voice hoarse yet unable to hide his relief.

“Her heartbeat is stable. Brainwaves are responding. The nervous system is beginning to recover. She’s… past the worst.”

The group seemed to exhale all at once not as if they’d merely heard good news, but as if they themselves had been pulled back from the edge of a cliff.

A strange moment, where no one knew what to say… until Duo, by some unspoken rule, was once again the first to break the silence.

He pushed himself up with his hands, groaning softly at the ache in his arms. Then he turned to look at Heero from head to toe the one who had just thrown the entire quarantine ward into chaos. Duo’s gaze narrowed slightly, his tone as if he was about to say something sarcastic… But what came out instead trembled faintly, as though even his voice had lost its usual steadiness.

“…So next time, if we want to know whether Relena is alright, we don’t need to call a doctor” Duo exhaled, his face twisting into a crooked smile,

“…we just have to ask if Heero feels like smashing through a wall, right?” Duo kept breathing heavily, but there was still a trace of a smile in his eyes.

The whole group turned to look at Duo who had just let slip something half-joking, half-serious in a moment where no one was sure if it was appropriate to laugh.

Quatre pressed his lips together, shaking his head, his eyes still weighed down.

“You really are… beyond repair.”

Trowa stifled a cough, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a silent admission.
Wufei raised an eyebrow and looked away, as if the moment anyone caught him about to laugh, he would punish himself on the spot.

Only Heero remained silent. He stood still in the shadowed hallway, breathing evenly, the tension in his shoulders, once pulled taut like steel wires now easing. No longer a cornered animal, but someone who had just let go of a boulder that had weighed on his chest for years without him even realizing it.

Under the pale white ceiling lights, not a word was spoken, yet everyone felt it with striking clarity: a thin, invisible thread connecting Heero and Relena. Not an illusion, not a miracle, but something so real that those around them could not possibly deny it.

Hilde and Dorothy hurried down the hallway toward them. Hilde’s face was pale, her heels clicking together. Dorothy, who had remained silent all this time, still said nothing, her gaze fixed on Heero, deep as the bottom of a still lake. Hilde almost hid entirely behind her shoulder.

“…Is this real?” Hilde asked quietly, as if afraid to disturb something fragile hanging in the air.

“It’s not… one of those rumors, like some kind of psychic bond?”
Dorothy tilted her head, her lips curling ever so slightly. But her eyes held not the faintest trace of a smile.

“How many people do you think would break down a steel door in a quarantine ward just because they ‘felt’ someone’s heartbeat go wrong?”

Hilde fell silent, swallowing hard. Dorothy’s gaze remained fixed on Heero, standing motionless, his face utterly calm, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, as if everything he had done earlier had been nothing but pure instinct.

And there had been only one thing guiding him, that girl.

The group slowly settled into the row of cold plastic chairs along the hallway. Clothes rumpled, hair disheveled, faces still marked with scratches. No one was forcing them to stay, but none of them wanted to leave.

Because what they had just witnessed… was not written in any research institute’s curriculum. It could not be explained by medicine, nor measured by numbers or brain scans.

It could only be named by one elusive word, both beautiful and terrifying.

Connection.

A bond so strong that no words were needed. A bond where when one falls into darkness, the other is willing to lose all reason just to keep them from slipping away.

Chapter Text

It would have been a peaceful morning if one could overlook the sight of a group of Peacecraft Academy students, still in uniform, sporting a few scratches on their ears and cheeks, with expressions somewhere between exhaustion and bewilderment, having breakfast in a private, restricted section of the hospital as if they were a high-ranking UN delegation.

The breakfast room had been meticulously prepared so clean and serene that one might doubt whether it truly belonged in a hospital. A small sign outside the door read: “Isolation Area – Special Service by Order of Chairman Peacecraft.”

Inside, a long table had been set with a personalized menu prepared since the previous evening: fortified congee, soft-poached French-style eggs, cinnamon buttered toast, and several varieties of cold-pressed juice made fresh in the VIP recovery wing. A chef in a spotless white coat busied himself with last-minute checks on the food, while the nurses stood at attention as if awaiting orders from a head of state.

Wufei slowly rotated his teacup between his fingers.
“We need to step up our training. Four of us getting pinned down like rag dolls by one lunatic? That’s unacceptable.”
“At least… if it’s someone with predator-level strength.” he added.

Trowa, still eating quietly, nodded in agreement, dark circles faint under his eyes. Quatre leaned his chin on one hand, the other holding an ice pack to his shoulder.

As always, Duo was the only one with enough energy to break the heavy silence.
“Speaking of that lunatic did you guys know the doctor had to give Heero a sedative dose big enough for a woolly mammoth yesterday?”

All eyes immediately turned to him.

He went on, his tone animated, as though telling a ghost story:
“No joke. I stayed to keep an eye on him. They gave the shot, his vitals stayed steady heart rate normal but his eyes didn’t close, mouth didn’t move. The doctors just stared at each other like they were facing some alien lifeform. Then one of them leans over to me and whispers: ‘Is he really a 17-year-old student?’”

Quatre let out a short laugh, unsure whether to find it funny or hopeless.

Wufei frowned. “Didn’t sleep?”

Duo raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Nope. This guy doesn’t sleep unless he decides to. Heart fine, brain awake, but his whole body tensed like he’s waiting for an alarm to go off. The second the doctor told him ‘Relena’s out of danger,’ he just shut down like someone flipped a switch in his brain. Collapsed instantly. Didn’t say a word.”

Trowa spoke without looking up from his tea.
“I heard… sitting upright?”

Duo nodded, illustrating with his hands as if describing a legendary sight.
“Straight-backed, arms folded, no support out cold. I thought only Tibetan monks could pull that off. The doctors even called the chairman to ask if they should force him to lie down. One of the security captains just crossed his arms and said ‘Why don’t we just recruit him into the national defense force?’ ”

Quatre had to cover his mouth with a napkin to stifle a laugh. Wufei nodded in half-serious agreement.
“Maybe we should.”

Just then, a nurse hurried in her expression a mix of confusion and the weary familiarity of someone used to this group’s oddities. She spoke softly but clearly enough to draw everyone’s attention:
“Heero just woke up.”

The group immediately stopped eating. The nurse swallowed, then continued with disbelief in her voice:
“He only asked one thing ‘Where’s Relena?’ and then went straight back to sleep.”

A moment of silence.

Duo set his fork down on the plate, exhaling as if he had just witnessed something sacred.
“Unbelievable. That guy literally shot up, asked ‘Where’s Relena?’ like it was straight out of a movie… then just collapsed back to sleep.”

Wufei didn’t look up, only gave a slight nod.
“We should just accept it… like a natural disaster.”

The whole table nodded in unison. No one said anything more.

After breakfast, they remained at the hospital. None of them went to class that morning except Dorothy and Hilde, the only two who had left the hospital the night before and were probably sitting in their classrooms by now, pretending everything was perfectly normal.

They left the private dining room quietly, a place seemingly designed to shield them, for a little while, from the outside world and from the fragility of teenagers who had just come through a chaos too new to have a name. The first light of day slipped in through the wide glass windows, spreading across the pale tile floor like a thin veil. No one spoke, yet all of them moved toward Heero’s room as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Two men in black suits stood guard at the door. Seeing the group approach, they straightened and bowed slightly eyes carrying a trace of caution, but also the respect owed to those who, just yesterday, had witnessed an outbreak of violence in the middle of the recovery ward that even they could not stop. Without a word, one of them quietly turned the doorknob and opened the door.

Inside, the room was utterly still. And of course, Heero was still asleep but not the kind of sleep one expected to see in a hospital.

He sat upright on the bed, back unsupported, arms folded across his chest, chin slightly dipped, eyes closed as if in meditation. No monitors, no IV lines; even the thin blanket was neatly folded at the foot of the bed, as though his body refused anything remotely related to “rest.”

Duo tilted his head and muttered under his breath:
“This guy sleeps like he’s guarding the gates of hell.”

Wufei stood with arms crossed, eyes tracking the subtle rise and fall of Heero’s chest.
“It’s not guarding anything… It’s like… he’s waiting for a red alert. One strange sound, and he’d spring up like he’s pre-programmed.”

Trowa said nothing, simply looking at Heero for a long time. Quatre, meanwhile, allowed a faint smile to touch his lips—an expression that wasn’t quite sadness, but something closer to understanding. They were used to this unyielding posture of his, and yet right now, it somehow felt oddly reassuring.

At that same moment, in Relena’s room.

A private recovery ward, lit only by a soft, gentle glow, the steady beep of the heart monitor filling the silence. In that quiet, Relena’s eyes fluttered open. She awoke slowly, as if her soul was returning from a dream too far away. Her eyes felt dry, her body weak, but her gaze was clear aware.

Her eyes moved across the room not searching for a person, but for something familiar. Something that tethered her to this reality.

A young nurse entered, stopping short when she saw the patient awake. She hurried over, speaking softly:
“Do you need anything, Miss?”

Relena’s lips moved faintly, her voice barely more than a breath:
“…Heero’s… jacket…”

The nurse didn’t understand, but she made a mental note before hurrying upstairs to the third floor, where the group of friends was keeping vigil.

Moments later, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
A young nurse appeared, cheeks slightly flushed from the rush, though her eyes betrayed a spark of excitement.
“Miss Peacecraft… has woken up.”

Five pairs of eyes turned toward her at once. But before anyone could speak, she added, her tone tinged with hesitation:
“She’s very weak. I asked if she needed anything, and she just kept repeating one thing: ‘Heero’s… jacket…’”

A small, unexpected silence stretched out.

Quatre gave a faint smile unable to hide the sudden relief in it, though his eyes seemed to cloud like mist. Trowa glanced once more at Heero, who still hadn’t moved.

Duo shot Wufei a look and gave an exaggerated blink before chuckling, both hands raised.
“Which one? You mean the jacket from the library? The one Hilde accidentally spilled microchip oil on the princess’s clothes? I thought… she already returned that?”

Wufei shook his head. His eyes held a hint of resignation, but his voice had softened noticeably.
“Being apart, yet still calling for each other… I don’t even know what to call that.”

The air around them seemed to sink not in grief, but in that gentle stillness of people who have already passed through a storm and now find themselves sitting inside an as-yet-unformed calm.

Duo shrugged, then stepped toward the corner cabinet where personal belongings were kept before admission.
“I’ll get the jacket.”

He moved quietly, opening the cabinet as though wary of disturbing a wild animal. His hand sifted through neatly folded layers until he pulled out a navy-blue jacket: the STEM division uniform of Peacecraft Academy. The fabric was thick, faintly creased, the large hood folded back like a seashell. There lingered on it a familiar scent—cold, clean, and carrying the unspoken memory of having once shielded someone in the middle of chaos.

Duo held the jacket, folding it loosely in his hands, and was just about to turn away when…

A very soft whisper came from behind him.
“Relena.”

Duo froze. He didn’t need to look to know that Heero had just spoken that single name without opening his eyes, without any sign of waking just one solitary word slipping out into a sleep that might not have been entirely sleep.

There was no trace of jest in Duo now. Turning back, he held the jacket in his arms as if it were something far more than a piece of clothing. He walked quietly to the nurse waiting outside in the corridor, handing it over, neatly folded, his voice stripped of its usual mischief.
“Give this to her. Tell her… Heero’s still here.”

No one else spoke. Quatre lowered his gaze. Trowa leaned a fraction deeper against the wall. Wufei stood straight, eyes fixed ahead, though it wasn’t clear at what.

Between the two rooms lay a hushed corridor where time itself seemed to halt.
One voice called out a name hidden inside a frail breath.
One heart, unaware, still beat to the rhythm of waiting.
They did not see each other, yet that call was like the last wind of the season, stirring a quiet corner of the soul.

While the group still stood outside Heero’s room, the nurse’s words lingering in the air, a figure appeared suddenly at the far end of the hallway.

The glass door at the corridor’s bend swung open—not loudly, but without warning. The bodyguards straightened at once when two men came into view—Chairman Vice Peacecraft and Odin Lowe. They walked side by side, neither leading, their steps carrying the quiet composure of men long accustomed to crossing the battle lines of youth with eyes that had already stared too long into the raw truth of life.

Though they had met the night before, seeing them now in the pale morning light, under the stark white glare of the hospital—did not bring an entirely comfortable feeling. The group no longer felt like students in the presence of these two men, but rather young people who had just seen a friend collapse, rise again, and now quietly wrestle with something poised between survival and the unnamed.

Vice did not step inside. He stopped by the glass window, letting his eyes rest briefly on the still figure of Relena. He stood in silence for a long moment, like a father unwilling to disturb something so fragile. Then he turned, gave the group a small nod, no words necessary.

“Thank you… for staying.”

Just one short sentence, yet it carried the weight of hundreds. He said nothing else, his gaze swept across each face, as if wanting to imprint in his heart the quiet presence of every young person who had stayed awake through the night for his daughter. Then he turned away, walking with measured steps, his back still straight, yet something in his shoulders had dropped a weariness with no name.

Before disappearing completely down the corridor, he stopped. His voice, when it came, was the same as before, yet softer not only from worry, but from a deep, aching fondness, tinged with regret.

“Heero… is he alright?”

Odin was silent for a moment before answering.
“He’s tougher than I ever thought.”

Vice let out a faint laugh—a sound so light it nearly vanished into the air. Yet the fatigue within it was unmistakable.
“Tough enough to knock out my entire security team. Next time… maybe I should have them train with wild buffalo.”

In another situation, such a line might have made everyone burst out laughing. But here, it only sank into the quiet.

Then Duo stepped forward not circling around, but standing squarely between the two men like an abrupt line cutting through the slow, muted rhythm of breath. His eyes had lost all trace of the jester; they were deep and bright, as if they’d seen something beyond words.

“I don’t know if you’ll believe this…”

He paused, then spoke each word as though carving it into stone:
“…but last night, it was Heero who called Relena back.”

Odin tilted his head slightly, as if hearing something that did not belong in the realm of reason. Vice froze in place, his gaze fixed down the corridor ahead of him but his thoughts had already diverged to some far, silent place.

Time seemed to hold its breath. The corridor lay in stillness so complete even the wind hesitated to touch it. Whether they believed the words or not, they etched themselves into memory like a quiet blade not painful, but never to heal.

Only the sound of footsteps resumed, carrying the two men away from the corridor drowned in harsh white light.

Out in the parking lot, Vice walked slowly, as if something still clung to him, refusing to be shaken off. Odin followed, hands in the pockets of his coat, his gaze no longer on the students they had left behind, but on some faraway horizon.

Odin pulled out his phone, scrolling through a few messages before stopping at a report about the scaffold collapse: cause unknown. No technical faults. Everything… too clean. But Odin did not believe in “no trace,” because such things always hid the most dangerous truths.

A report anyone could feel reassured by anyone except Odin.

His eyes darkened.

A gust of wind cut through the parking lot. Vice opened his car door, then turned to look at Odin, as if sensing something unusual.
“You think someone tampered with it?”

Odin didn’t answer right away. The wind tousled his hair, falling across his forehead. In that moment, fragments of memory he thought long buried rose sharply to the surface.

“Before the boy enrolled here…” His voice dropped. “…I took him to an old training ground, near the northern border. A place where I sometimes meet with old comrades to keep in touch.”

Vice nodded, listening closely.

“I didn’t plan to involve him. Just thought… if he tagged along for a few days, did some light drills with a few veterans, it wouldn’t hurt.” Odin gave a short, humorless laugh. “But on the very first day, a man appeared someone not from my unit. He watched Heero all through training, didn’t say a word.”

“You know who he was?” Vice asked, brows drawing together.

“No name. Just that he’d worked for some international organization—specializing in things… well outside normal training parameters.” Odin’s gaze seemed to pierce through the evening haze.

“He didn’t ask about me. He only said: ‘That boy… doesn’t belong here. Are you really going to let his abilities go to waste?’ ”

Vice exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
“And you didn’t like that.”

Odin nodded. “He didn’t look at Heero like a child. He looked at him like… a tool. Something already forged just waiting to be put to use.”

Silence fell again, broken only by the distant wail of a car horn and the faint echo of footsteps already gone.

“I took him home the next day,” Odin said at last, his voice rough.
“And I decided to enroll him at Peacecraft. The only place I believed… might let him live as a normal boy.”

Vice said nothing, only looked quietly at his old friend. The wind had stilled.

Then he spoke, slowly:
“But Heero has never been a normal boy. And perhaps… was never truly allowed to be a normal person.”

Odin said nothing.

The two men stood there in the fading light, as shadows began to stretch long across the ground. No more words were needed. But in their eyes was the silent agreement of men who had seen too much, lost too much, and chosen the harder path if only for the sake of a boy they were no longer young enough to fully understand.

Chapter Text

Heero awoke from a long sleep, one he hadn’t chosen for himself but had apparently needed. Maybe it was the “elephant dose” of sedatives Duo had joked about or maybe for the first time in days, he’d simply been allowed to stop worrying.

The first thing he felt wasn’t pain. It was an empty stretch: long, quiet, and without edges. No dreams, no jolting visions. Just a deep, uninterrupted sleep after two nights of tossing and turning, his body finally surrendering under the weight of accumulated exhaustion and the heavy sedatives.

He pushed himself upright, a faint tingling lingering in his joints, but his mind already clear. Out of habit, his gaze swept across the room and stopped at the far corner where the cabinet stood.

Heero rose from the bed neither hurried nor slow. Bare feet touched the cold floor as he walked over, pulling open the cabinet not because he doubted his memory but to confirm what he already knew.

He remembered it clearly: before sleeping, he’d folded the jacket and set it beside his technical notebook: three folds, pressing down the left sleeve, leaving just enough space for the stack of handwritten notes. That jacket had been stained with Relena’s blood; when Heero had been rushed to the emergency room, someone had taken it away to be cleaned.

It had been returned two days ago. He had folded it carefully then, almost like a ritual. And now, it wasn’t there. He didn’t react right away. Just stood there for a few seconds, hand resting on the cabinet door, thinking.

From the opposite corner of the room, Duo sat with one leg hooked over the arm of a chair, holding half a bitten sandwich. His loose sleepwear hung lopsided, hair tied back in a haphazard knot that looked like it had survived a night of questionable decisions. He glanced at Heero and slowed his chewing when he noticed the change in expression.

“…Heero?”

Heero didn’t answer. He shut the cabinet door, turned and fixed his eyes on Duo. A beat of silence.

“Where’s my jacket?”

Duo froze, the sly glint in his eyes dimming.
“…Uh…”

Heero didn’t need to threaten, didn’t need to step closer. His silence was enough: cold, sharp, still. It was the kind of quiet that sucked the air out of the room, making even the sound of chewing feel out of place.

Duo let out a sigh.
“Knew it. The moment you woke up, you were gonna notice.”

Duo raised his hands in surrender, scratching his head as he leaned a little to the side—like he was about to explain something deeply heartfelt.

“Yesterday—after they gave you that ‘elephant dose’ and knocked you out—Relena woke up. Weak as a kitten.”

“The nurse asked her what she wanted, and the first thing she said—over and over—was ‘Heero’s jacket…’ I’m telling you, man, anyone who heard that just melted on the spot. No joke, the whole room turned into an emotional fog bank.”

Right then, Quatre walked in, holding a stack of medical files. His eyes flicked over Duo, still running his mouth, and he spoke in his usual calm, flat tone:
“Duo, tone it down. Are you telling a touching story or pitching a TV drama?”

Trowa followed, giving a lazy nod.
“Yeah. Sounds like one of those scenes where Relena opens her eyes in a beam of heavenly light, tears streaming down her cheeks, whispering ‘Heero… is it really you?’”

Duo shot up straight like he’d just been falsely accused, one hand raised high.
“Hey, hey don’t put words in my mouth! I’m just reporting the facts exactly as they happened! She was still hooked up to an IV and still clinging to that jacket like it might vanish any second! I’m talking pure survival instinct—powered by the scent of her beloved.”

Quatre stifled a laugh but tried to keep his voice composed.
“Maybe don’t compare her to someone hugging an oxygen tank.”

From the doorway, Wufei leaned against the frame, arms crossed. His gaze swept the room before resting on Heero.
“That jacket… it’s the one stained with blood from the accident, isn’t it? I remember the hospital had it cleaned for you.”

Heero gave a small nod, still silent, but something in his eyes wavered.

Duo took the chance to jump back in, his voice dropping half a pitch but still brimming with excitement.
“Exactly! Cleaned up, smelling fresh. And she curled up with it, slept like a kitten.”

“When Dorothy found out Relena had woken up, she rushed over, saw the whole thing, didn’t say a word—just pulled out her phone, snapped a picture… and sent it straight to the group chat.”

Heero frowned. “…What group?”

Duo’s grin lit up like he’d been waiting for that cue. He snapped his fingers and pulled out his phone.
“The ‘STEM & Princess’ bestie group! All of us, Relena, Doroth —and we just added Hilde last week. Here, take a look!”

On the screen was a hastily taken photo. The warm yellow light from the ceiling lamp spilled over the white hospital bed. Relena lay on her side, her face pale from exhaustion yet peaceful. Her right hand was wrapped in bandages and an IV line; her left arm cradled something soft, the deep navy STEM uniform jacket, freshly laundered, its folds still crisp, nestled close to her like a small, warm fragment of something unspoken.

The shot was slightly angled, catching the way a strand of her hair fell across her cheek, a sleep born not just from fatigue, but from care, and a rare sense of safety.

Heero stared at the screen. It was as if a thin, invisible string had tightened around his heart. In that moment, all the sounds in the room seemed to fade, leaving only the photo and that quiet, private something slowly breaking open inside him. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Relena sleeping but it was the first time she’d slept without him there.

Something gentle slipped into his gaze, softening the edge of the anger he’d felt earlier when he’d realized his jacket was missing when he’d found out Duo had taken it without asking. He still wasn’t ready to forgive, not completely. But that image Relena clutching the jacket like it was the last thing she could hold onto in the storm left him with nothing to say at all.

Duo leaned in close, his voice dropping into a teasing whisper.
“Hey… if I took a picture of that face right now, it’d be one for the ages.”

Heero didn’t answer. He simply reached out, took the phone from Duo’s hand, zoomed in on the photo, then zoomed back out. A pointless action, but the only way he could convince himself it was real. He kept his eyes on the screen. No one could have guessed that, in that moment, the thing occupying his mind wasn’t Relena’s closed eyes, nor the jacket itself… but the fact she hadn’t let go of it. Not even in a sleep that deep.

He closed his eyes, brows drawing together.
“…Who’s seen this photo?” His voice was low, almost quiet.

Duo hunched his shoulders. “Uh… well, our group five of us. Six if you count Relena. And Dorothy, since she sent it. Hilde’s probably seen it too, but you know Hilde, she’s not the talkative type.”

Heero stood there for a beat. Then another. As though his legs needed one last moment of hesitation before moving. His posture was quiet, shoulders faintly shifting with slow, measured breaths not quite emotion, more like someone trying to reorient themselves after brushing against something so fragile, so real, it couldn’t be put into words.

Duo froze in place, still holding his phone.
“You guys saw that, right?” he said, glancing between Trowa and Quatre, one thumb jerking toward the door. “He smiled. He actually smiled.”

Quatre didn’t answer immediately. Only his eyes softened—subtly, in a way that felt like hearing the end of a nameless sad song.
“Yeah,” he finally said, quietly. “He just stepped out of a place I’m not sure he’s ever dared to set foot in: feeling.”

Trowa set his notebook down, pencil still in hand, unused. He didn’t look at Duo. His gaze followed the door Heero had passed through, as if it might still hold the imprint of his mood. No words, no clear explanation. Only the lingering trace of a faint smile so fragile that, if you hadn’t been there to catch it in that exact second, you might doubt it had ever existed.

“For the first time” Trowa said slowly “he smiled without anger. No tension or sarcasm. Just… a flicker of peace.”

“Or he’s gone insane” Duo muttered though there was no real mockery left in his tone, just something bordering on unease.

“I’m not kidding. I’ve seen that kind of quiet before. Last year, the girl next door smiled at me like that right before she sent me a farewell letter.”

“Maybe” Quatre replied softly, reaching for a teacup gone cold “but this time, I think it’s a crack. A very small one… where light might get in.”

Heero came back like a silent shadow—unhurried, unforced—as if he was the only person he needed to convince to take one more step. The door to the ward was still ajar, the white light spilling onto the pale tiles, as quiet as an afternoon retreating into evening.

“Eh? Why’d you come back?” Duo was the first to speak, his words instinctive but a faint thread of tension had crept in beneath his usual easy grin.

Trowa said nothing, watching in silence. Quatre seemed to be tracking the rise and fall of Heero’s chest, noticing how his breathing had slowed, like he was holding himself steady after some internal tremor.

The stillness broke with Heero’s voice—low, direct:
“I want to see her.”

All four of them turned at once.

“Now?” Quatre asked quietly.

Heero nodded.

Duo glanced around, then slowly slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin, pale pink paper card, stamped faintly with the seal of the special care ward.
“I… may have borrowed a visitor’s pass.”

He set it on the table.

No one spoke right away, too surprised. By both the fact that Duo had managed to steal it… and that Heero actually intended to use it.

“This isn’t reasonable.” Wufei said quietly, his voice low like a warning.

“But it’s right” Trowa cut in. “If she’s awake, the first thing she should see isn’t a doctor.”

“It’s whatever made her smile” Quatre added gently.

Duo nodded in agreement then glanced at Heero, hesitating.
“Uh… you’re not planning to strangle anyone, are you? This is the recovery ward.”

Heero didn’t answer. He picked up the pass, rolling it lightly between two fingers. Moments later, he stepped out without needing anyone to point the way—he remembered exactly where to go.

He stopped the moment he crossed the threshold into the hospital room. The stillness was broken only by the slow, steady drip of the IV. His eyes caught on the small figure lying on her side, facing the window. She was no longer conscious, and no longer had the strength to open her eyes again. But that silhouette, the slight curve of her shoulder, the stray strand of hair spilling loosely across the white pillow still called to him in its own quiet way.

Heero moved forward, each step heavy, as though his legs were carrying every word he could never speak aloud. His gaze never left that face a face that had, at different times, made him angry, confused, and wordlessly silent. But now, all that remained was an unnameable, aching worry.

He sank to one knee beside the bed, his breathing quickened by the too-fast beat of his heart. One hand gripped the bedframe tightly, as though letting go might cause this fragile world to collapse. The other hovered in the air, stopping just short of touching her hand.

Then a faint whisper slipped past her parched lips.
“Hee… ro…”

He froze. A dizzy wave swept over him. How long had it been since he’d heard her say his name? Not through the haze of dreams, not muffled behind the glass of a hospital corridor—but here, from her own breath, drawn from someplace deep and real.

Heero leaned in, close enough to hear each shallow breath from her fragile chest.
“Relena” his voice was hoarse “I’m here.”

Her lips shifted faintly, barely a breath brushing against his cheek.
“What did you say?” he asked, lowering himself further, almost close enough for their foreheads to touch.

There were only a few centimeters between them. One of Heero’s hands pressed to the bed for balance, his shoulders taut, yet his eyes… uncharacteristically soft.

Relena’s lips trembled, her eyes still barely open, long lashes quivering. A single word slipped out so faint it seemed to dissolve into the air.
“…Jacket…”

Heero didn’t understand at first. Then his gaze fell to the blanket, slightly disturbed, where the dark navy folds of a STEM uniform peeked through. His heart went still in a long, blurring breath that seemed to erase every boundary he’d drawn for himself.

His grip on the bedframe tightened, feeling the warmth of the white sheets seep into his palm. Not out of anger but because there were too many emotions colliding in his chest at once, and he had no idea what to do with them.

“…Yeah. It’s mine” he murmured almost too soft for anyone but himself to hear.

And in that fleeting instant, he understood: among all the losses, silences, and things left unsaid, there was still one thing Relena held close his warmth, even if only through a layer of fabric.

At that very moment, out in the hallway, a scene completely at odds with the quiet inside was unfolding. The door was left slightly ajar, and through the narrow strip of light, three heads leaned in at varying angles.

“Looks like he’s about to kiss her…”
Duo whispered, eyebrows raised, fighting so hard to hold back his grin that his face was turning red.

“Duo, please. Be serious.”
Quatre didn’t even look at him, one hand on Duo’s shoulder to keep him from barging in.

“This is a hospital. Not a drama set.” Wufei crossed his arms, frowning, before muttering under his breath

“That lunatic. Yesterday he was ready to hit someone, and today he’s about to kiss someone.”

Dorothy, no one quite knew when she’d finished her classes and arrived was leaning casually against the wall across from them, one hand resting under her chin.
“He’s not about to kiss her. It’s just… the kind of closeness that demands silence. Sometimes, that’s more intense than a kiss.”

Duo turned to stare at her.
“You keep talking like that and I will pass out, Dorothy.”

Quatre allowed himself a faint chuckle. In any case, seeing Heero like this was the one moment of relief in three days that had felt wound tight as a drawn bowstring.

Duo nodded sagely.
“Wait… anyone else notice? She’s got the blanket over her, the jacket too… so what, is that maniac about to hand over his heart next?”

“Shut up!” Wufei hissed. “I can hear the bed creaking. Don’t let him catch us.”

Dorothy laughed softly.
“Too late. I’m sure he knows we’re all here. But for Relena’s sake, he’s letting it slide.”

Quatre took a step back, his voice low.
“Then let’s go. Leave them be. Just for today… we can step back.”

The group fell silent for a beat. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they pulled away from the doorway. No one said a word, their footsteps were lighter than the wind.

A gentle breeze drifted through the top-floor hallway of the private hospital.

From the wide glass window, the dimming light of late afternoon spilled into the long corridor, pooling over the cool, polished stone floor.

Vice stood with his arms folded, leaning against the balcony railing, his gaze wandering far toward the garden below, where a line of casuarina trees swayed softly in the wind.

Odin’s footsteps approached, stopping beside his old friend.

Vice didn’t turn.
“You’re not going in to see the girl?”

Odin paused for a beat.
“I don’t know who gave him permission to enter Relena’s room.” His tone was deep, not quite angry more a half-joke than an accusation.

Vice let out a quiet chuckle.
“No need to know. Definitely one of his friends set it up. Dorothy, maybe… or that long-haired kid who’s always smiling.”

“Duo.”

“Right, him. I should put his name on my list of troublemakers.”

A brief silence. Then Vice’s voice softened.
“But Heero… he was looking at her like… like his whole world was in that room.”

Odin didn’t reply right away. His eyes dipped, not in evasion, but in thought.

“When did you first notice that look?” Vice asked again, his voice dropping into a near-whisper. “Today? Or before?”

Odin inhaled slowly, clasping his hands behind his back with the faintest tightening.
“From the very first lesson. I went with him that day.” His words were plain, but carried weight.

Vice turned to him, unable to hide his surprise. Odin offered no further elaboration. The short answer held too much quiet for more to be said. Outside the window, the shadows of the two men stretched long across the dull stone floor, crossing, then separating two parallel lines bearing witness to what the heart could not put into words.

“I remember it clearly… it was a Tuesday afternoon.” Odin began, his voice even, as if he had rehearsed this story in his mind for a long time, yet only now let it out.

“I hadn’t planned on going with him. But there was a light rain that day, and… I wanted to see this so-called ‘annoying family’ for myself.”

Vice gave a soft laugh, but didn’t interrupt.

“In the car, he didn’t say a word. Back straight, eyes fixed out the window. That kind of tense silence, like he was preparing for a battlefield rather than a tutoring session. I knew that look he wears it whenever he’s bracing himself as an outsider. I thought to myself then… if the place didn’t suit him, I’d end it.”

Odin paused, fishing a cigarette from his coat pocket but not lighting it. He turned it slowly in his fingers before continuing.

“The door opened before I could even ring the bell. It was Relena. No servant in tow, no grand introduction. She opened it herself—and that surprised me a little—but my son just stood there.”

He glanced at Vice, his voice slowing, as if describing something half-dreamed, half-remembered.
“She wore a black skirt, white blouse, her hair tied low. A few loose strands clung to her collar, and she didn’t bother to fix them. You could tell right away she didn’t want extra lessons. Her eyes were serious, her brow faintly knit. But the moment she saw Heero… her expression changed.”

Vice shifted slightly. “Changed how?”

“Flustered” Odin said.

“Not the shy fluster of a young lady meeting a stranger. It was the unease of someone who’d just opened the door to something they didn’t know how to face.”

He leaned back in his seat, recalling every detail as if it had happened only yesterday.

“And Heero… he didn’t speak, but I know he froze for half a second. Not out of surprise. But because, for the first time, someone made him stop without giving him a reason. He looked at her without sizing her up, without guarding himself, without caution, just looked. That kind of gaze… I’d never seen from him before.”

A faint smile touched Odin’s lips.
“Maybe in that moment, he stopped being the tutor. And she stopped being the girl forced to study. They didn’t know it, but I knew—that silence wasn’t distance. It was a beginning.”

He pressed the unlit cigarette lightly between his fingers.
“I followed them to the study. Not large, but bright, with a window facing the south rose garden… the same place he would go to on his own later.”

Vice tilted his head slightly, his brows moving in thought. But Odin didn’t explain—his gaze was already drifting far, toward the old sunlight that once filled that room.

“She set her books on the desk first, but didn’t sit. She stood facing the window, her back a little straighter than usual, as if wrestling with something inside. Heero stayed still hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly turned but I could see he no longer held that guarded stance he’d worn in the car.”

Then Odin gave a soft chuckle, as if still remembering the strange, suspended quiet that lasted right until Relena turned back to face Heero looking at him directly.

—-----------That day—------------

The small room gradually settled into stillness, the only sound the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. Afternoon sunlight, filtered through the sheen left by a passing rain, slanted through the window, spilling a pale gold along the edge of the desk.

Relena spoke first. No greeting, no preamble.
“I was forced.”

Her voice was dry, almost defiant. None of the usual politeness, none of the reserved manners expected of a daughter from a powerful house.

Heero looked at her, his gaze steady. He didn’t seem surprised but Odin, standing just out of sight behind the doorway, watching from a discreet distance, noticed the slight tilt of the boy’s head as if weighing whether her words were truth or just a shell.

Then Heero answered, calm as still water.
“So was I.”

No one said anything more. Yet that quiet admission shifted the air between them, as though they’d met at some unspoken point of overlap, a place where neither had to pretend they wanted to be here.

Relena pulled out a chair first, sitting down. Her hand rested on the stack of books, but she didn’t open them. Heero took the chair opposite. From his bag, he drew a fresh notebook and, in precise, blocky handwriting, wrote the title of their first lesson.

--------------------------------

“I didn’t need to stay long,” Odin would later say, as though exhaling something old and familiar.

“But even in that single lesson… I could see he wouldn’t teach her the way he’d ever taught anyone else.”

--------------------------------

The air at first was taut, but in the quiet that followed, Relena began to glance at her unfamiliar tutor from under her lashes. She hadn’t expected anyone to keep pace with her at least not in politics and literature, things she’d been schooled in since childhood.

But Heero explained mathematics with a precision that was almost too fast. Every time she tried to feign writing slowly, he simply slid the next problem toward her wordless, expressionless.

There was a moment when she was deliberately fumbling with an easy equation, and Heero suddenly spoke, voice quiet:
“You’re writing slowly so I’ll think you don’t understand, aren’t you?”

Relena’s head snapped up, caught off guard.
“What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re writing in the wrong direction.” He tilted her notebook toward her.

“I’m sitting on your left. You’ve angled it so I can’t see. That’s not how someone hides the fact they don’t understand. It’s how someone hides the fact they’ve understood it all along.”

Relena fell silent, lips pressed together. For the first time, she felt seen through, not in a way that made her feel controlled… But in the truest sense of the word: seen.

-------------------------------

“But by the second lesson, she didn’t show up.” Odin continued, his voice lowering. “The servants said she’d gone out into the garden… even though it was raining.”

The first rain of the season fell in a quiet, stubborn drizzle.

Heero said nothing. He waited exactly ten minutes, then set his pen down, stood, and left the study without a word. When he found Relena, she was standing in the middle of the southern rose garden—no umbrella, no coat. Her hair clung damply to her collar, her eyes fixed on nothing.

Heero stopped under the eaves, hands still in his coat pockets. After a moment, he stepped out into the rain, walking straight up to her.

“Skipping lessons just to stand in the rain?” His tone was even neither sharp nor soft.

“I don’t want to see your face.” Relena replied. She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away.

From a distance, standing in the stone corridor, Odin caught the way Heero’s shoulders dipped just slightly. Not from the words themselves, but from the fact that the person saying them was trembling, her hands already chilled from the rain.

He shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
“You’ll catch a cold. I’d rather not have to report that to my father.”

He stayed there and saying nothing more, letting his own shirt and hair soak through, waiting. Waiting for something… or maybe nothing at all. But waiting was enough.

There was one time when the problem was… almost too easy. Relena glanced down at the page, then smiled a small, quick curve of her lips tilting her head slightly, her eyes brightening as though she’d finally spotted sunlight in an otherwise dull lecture.

Heero noticed, but instead of looking away, he simply said quietly:
“What’s so funny? That problem’s easy.”

Relena didn’t answer, but after that, she stopped pretending to work slowly. They studied in sync, as if their pace had simply matched without effort.

At some point, Heero began printing out past International Math Olympiad papers to test her. The first one, she made it halfway before giving up.
“You’re getting back at me, aren’t you?” she accused, her tone sharp, but her eyes faintly watery from exhaustion.

“No proof,” Heero replied, not looking up.

She tossed her pen onto the desk.
“You’re impossible!”

“Everyone says that.” he said, calm, as if repeating something he’d heard far too often.

But that night when Odin passed by his son’s room, the light was still on. Glancing in, he saw Heero sitting at his desk, scrubbing out entire sections of problems and rewriting them in a clearer, simpler form.

----------------------------------

“That night, when we got to the car, I looked at him.”

Vice asked, “And you said what?”

Odin’s mouth tilted, his voice carrying a touch of humor—but not entirely light.
“Still want to keep being the young lady’s tutor?”

Heero didn’t answer. But when he got into the car, he pulled a pen from his jacket pocket: the one Relena had left behind. He slipped it back in carefully.

Odin finished the story, leaning back into his seat, eyes half closing.
“From the third lesson onward, I stopped going with him. Didn’t need to. Because I knew… even if I followed, I couldn’t stand in the middle of whatever was happening between those two.”

His gaze drifted to the quiet courtyard outside the hospital, but his expression was touched with a faint weight, as if there was something he’d never quite put into words.

“There was one time” he began slowly, “he told me he’d be studying at the school library in the afternoon, because his group project was meeting nearby. Said he wouldn’t go to the manor that day needed to work on the demo with his classmates.”

Vice nodded slightly, his eyes on the hospital corridor but his attention fixed on listening.

“I figured he’d told the girl ahead of time,” Odin went on. “Probably arranged to meet at the library, study a bit, then head to his group meeting. But I know my son—he thought that if he showed up late, she’d just leave. Like all the others who’d left him before quickly, without a word, without waiting.”

He paused, as if replaying the scene in slow motion inside his mind.

“He left her waiting until nearly nightfall. By the time I saw the clock was almost an hour past when they’d agreed, I almost sent her a message: Relena, go home. A girl shouldn’t be sitting alone like that.”

Vice asked half serious, half teasing “You sent it, didn’t you?”

Odin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips.
“No. I wanted to see what the boy would do.”

-----------------------------

The group meeting dragged on longer than expected. 

The demo assignment for Kinematic Mechanics, a simulation of an interconnected linkage system was still unfinished. No one in the group had managed to complete it in full.

Wufei was busy trying to convince everyone to apply a new variation formula instead of repeating the old method. Quatre sat deep in thought, jotting notes. Trowa leaned against a wooden column, rereading the technical requirements. And Duo, as always, contributed… twice as many words as the total number of equations in the entire project.

Heero said nothing. From time to time, he checked his watch, his gaze growing heavier with each glance.

“What’s up with you, Heero?” Quatre asked quietly, eyes still fixed on his papers.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking about that little heiress you tutor.” Duo cut in, narrowing his eyes with a grin.

“I heard her place is the size of a stadium. Bet you teach in a marble-floored private study.”

“Duo.” Trowa interrupted lazily “you haven’t even met her.”

“True. But you can’t say I’m wrong either.”

Heero still didn’t answer.

It was then that, from the hallway outside, came a muddle of footsteps and chatter—the ragged noise of students spilling out after PE class. Jackets tied around their waists, hair tousled, a few carrying unopened water bottles, their tired steps dragged along the old tile floor.

Amid the crowd, a smaller group of three or four students, boys and girls suddenly lit up, voices breaking into a low, excited chatter.

“Hey, did you see her? The girl in the white dress, sitting by the second-floor window at the old library.”

"Yeah, long white dress down to her ankles. Looked like a princess.”

“She’s not wearing the school uniform… so definitely not STEM, POLIS, or ECON,” another voice chimed in, lower, as if trying to keep the secret.

“I’ve seen her with a private driver. Heard she’s some heiress getting tutored here.”

“I walked past three times—she didn’t move much. Just books and notebooks in front of her.”

“I was gonna ask her something, but… I don’t know. I just stopped. Felt like I shouldn’t interrupt.”

Heero froze like someone had pressed a hand hard against his chest. Only for a second, but one second was enough for him to realize: his heart had just been pulled back to somewhere very specific… somewhere it had never really left.

He turned, so fast the wooden chair gave a soft thunk against the table. Without a word he strode straight into the hallway, brushing past the laughing, half-talking cluster of students. In that moment, his eyes darkened not in anger, but with something deeper, heavier. As if he was condemning himself for having left someone there for too long.

“Hey!” Duo shot to his feet. “Don’t tell me it’s her?”

“The girl in the rumors.” Quatre said in a low voice, already gathering his papers.

“Follow him!” Wufei said, calm but without delay. “If it’s who I think it is…”

“He tutors some rich young lady, right?” Trowa added, narrowing his eyes in the direction Heero had disappeared.

“Yeah, but I thought she was the cold-faced, braided-hair type flies drones without blinking.” Wufei said dryly.

“Duo said she’s stuck-up.” Quatre smiled faintly. “But the way those kids described her… doesn’t match.”

“I said I heard she’s stuck-up, okay? Never saw her myself. ” Duo protested, raising his hands then lowering his voice.

“Now I kinda want to.”

The group took a side hallway, circling around a row of columns to peer from a distance into the old library. The light there was gentle, slanting through tall glass panes.

On a long wooden bench by the window, the girl sat quietly.

Hair the color of brown touched by gold fell loosely over her shoulders, catching the sunlight. A soft white dress draped to her ankles so plain it seemed almost out of place in a school setting, yet without any showiness. No uniform, no name tag and no phone in sight.

In her hands was the third volume in a series on the foreign policy of neutral alliance nations. The first two books had already been stacked neatly beside her. She wasn’t looking at anyone, yet she wasn’t cold. Her stillness didn’t create distance, it carried a gentleness so quiet that approaching felt like intruding on a private sky that had existed long before anyone stepped into it.

He stepped into the library, the sound of his shoes echoing softly against the stone floor. Relena didn’t look up right away. Her fingers rested on the edge of the page, as if she wanted to finish the last line before moving.

When Heero’s shadow reached the end of the table, she finally spoke, her voice calm and devoid of inflection.
“I wasn’t waiting for you.”

Heero lowered his gaze to the stack of finished books, this was already the third. Something slow rose in his chest: part confusion, part ache.
“I know.” he replied quietly.

“I just hadn’t finished yet.” She closed the book gently, still without looking at him.

Heero stood there, unsure what to say. It wasn’t guilt for being late, it was guilt for assuming she’d leave like anyone else would. But she hadn’t, she’d stayed quietly. As if this was the only place she felt at peace… and he had left her alone here for too long.

Outside the tall library windows, the afternoon sun spilled softly over the white of her shoulder, beneath the fine strands of hair that brushed it. Even without turning, she seemed to know he was there.

He remained still before the reading table. In his hand was a carton of milk, he wasn’t sure when it had ended up in his bag. Probably in the morning, when Pagan had handed it to him with a casual. “You study too much, you need sugar.”

He hadn’t planned to drink it. But when he saw Relena sitting there, white dress quiet in the amber light streaming through the high panes, he found himself pulling it from his bag and setting it silently on the table.

Relena looked up. Her eyes didn’t blink, nor did they show surprise. For a moment, neither spoke, the only sounds were the turning of pages and the faint breeze slipping through the door left slightly ajar.

Heero asked softly, not looking directly at her:
“Have you eaten yet?”

Relena didn’t answer at first, seconds passed then she lowered her gaze, fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the book. No refusal and no thanks but in her eyes, he saw it. Something cut into him, quiet and deep like an unnamed current beneath still water.

Far away at the corner of the second-floor hallway, their friends were hiding behind a tall shelf, heads poking out one by one like they were watching a crime scene unfold.

Duo leaned out first, whispering:
“Damn… she’s not acting all high and mighty at all. That’s… ridiculously soft.”

Wufei crossed his arms, thoughtful for a moment, then gave a firm nod.
“All your rumors are garbage. She’s sharper than the lot of us put together.”

Leaning back against the wall, Trowa’s eyes drifted toward the pile of books on the table, titles lined up like a list of academic heavyweights:

Mechanisms of Dialogue and Conflict Resolution in Multi-Party Political Systems

Peacebuilding Through Decentralized Models: Theory and Practice

A Sociological Analysis of Rebuilding Trust in Post-War Societies

“…I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone in our school managing to borrow all three of those.” Trowa murmured.

“You’ve got to be kidding…” Wufei muttered back.

“What’s she even doing reading this stuff at her age?”

Trowa only arched an eyebrow. Quatre pressed his lips together, looking for a moment as though he were standing in front of a living research subject.

“She’s on the third book.” Quatre said, unable to hide the quiet awe in his voice.

Duo turned to him, nudging his elbow lightly.
“Hey, you know her family, right? When’s she actually going to enroll full-time? Your family’s pretty well-connected…”

Quatre let out a small breath. “I know of them. But I’ve never seen her outside of closed meetings. The only thing I remember is my father saying, ‘That girl… she’s not easy to approach. Don’t try to corner her like some business deal—just keep the proper distance.’”

The group’s eyes returned to the quiet scene at the reading desk. Heero was still there, unmoving, his gaze seemingly never having settled on anyone but the girl before him. Relena didn’t look at him again but she hadn’t left either, her hand still resting on the open book before her.

In the last golden light of the afternoon slipping across the stone floor, Relena finally closed her book as a librarian stepped out to remind her that closing time was near. She didn’t rush. One by one, she gathered the three thick volumes, each dense with theories on political structures and post-conflict reconstruction and returned them to their exact places on the shelves. As if the long wait she had endured there had never been heavy at all.

Heero said nothing. He only walked behind her, one slow step at a time careful not to close the distance, careful not to break the silence. Guilt sat under his skin like a thin, unseen cut, bloodless but aching. A breeze caught the strands of her light brown hair, swaying in the late daylight. Her long white dress brushed the floor like gentle waves curling over sand soft, and just out of reach.

Duo nudged Wufei with his elbow, whispering:
“Hey… did anyone else see Heero pull out a milk carton? From his backpack, no less. That’s… kind of cool.”

Wufei shook his head slowly, arms still crossed.
“Idiot. You think someone like him just happens to carry milk around?”

Trowa stayed leaning on the railing, sharp-eyed but silent. Quatre, after a while of watching the two walk away, gave a faint smile.
“What he gave her…” he said, voice so low the group immediately fell silent “wasn’t milk.”

Duo tilted his head, one eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

Quatre looked down the now-quiet hallway where only the sound of Relena’s steps tapped gently against the cool stone floor.
“It was… trust” he murmured. “And an apology.”

No one laughed after that.

A breeze slipped through the glass panels on the second floor, scattering the last traces of end-of-day banter into the evening air.

Chapter Text

The next lesson began in a silence so heavy it bordered on oppressive.

Relena was already there when he entered, seated neatly at the desk by the window. The early afternoon light brushed against her white blouse, tracing the simple, immaculate folds of the fabric. Her skirt today was plainer than before, a soft ivory, lacking the faint shimmer she wore the first time they met. And yet, it was still her composed, quiet, without a greeting, without a glance.

Heero stepped inside and opened his book. He waited for a moment, thinking she might turn toward him perhaps just a nod, perhaps a soft “hello”.
But nothing came,  only the faint sound of pages turning, the steady movement of her pen. She worked through the previous assignments—clear, precise. No questions, no hesitation. No need for him.

The guilt inside him seemed to grow heavier by the minute, like something unseen was quietly wearing away at his chest. Not a sharp pain, but a persistent weight—something that made it harder to breathe.

He began teaching like a machine: formulas, examples, analysis, explanations.
But his eyes kept drifting toward the curve of her cheek. The sunlight caught in her light brown hair, revealing fleeting threads of gold. She wasn’t cold nor guarded. She was simply… still. As though the air itself had been drained of all sound.

A sadness deep, swallowed settled between them, and somehow, that made the distance even harder to cross.

Until finally, Heero could bear it no longer.

His voice broke the quiet—low, rough, as if drawn from someplace far beneath the surface.

“Don’t stay so silent.”

Relena didn’t look up. But the pen in her hand stopped mid-stroke, frozen in the half-formed line of ink. Heero clenched his teeth, his gaze falling to the dark wood of the desk. For the first time in over a month, his tone was no longer that of a tutor. It was simply Heero, someone carrying an unease he couldn’t put into words. Relena neither lifted her head nor replied. But he knew… she had heard him.

The silence stretched between them, drawn taut like a wire—never breaking, only pulling further apart with each faint tick of the clock on the wall. The room felt severed from the outside world: no sound of cars, no wind, not even the breath of another human being.

Heero kept his eyes on the desk, making no move to repeat himself, no attempt to call her name. There was something in his expression then… as if he would accept it, if she chose to keep her silence.

The clock’s hands inched forward, each second cutting into the fragile air. The light outside shifted toward a muted gold-gray. Inside, there was only the faint whisper of wind brushing through the trees, slipping past the window frame then vanishing as though it had never been there.

Heero remained in his seat, no longer teaching. Not even sure what he was waiting for only that he couldn’t leave. Couldn’t end the lesson like this. And then, when it felt as though the silence might stretch on forever, some unnamed punishment, Relena finally set her pen down.

She didn’t turn toward him. But her voice came soft and delicate, as if wrapped in paper-thin silk, ready to tear at the slightest touch.

“That day… you shouldn’t have stayed silent either.”

Heero looked up.

She kept her eyes on the page, the sentence before her still unfinished. Her hair fell in a soft line, veiling half her cheek. Yet Heero could hear something in her voice, see something in the stillness of her halted hand, that made him feel as though he had just broken something fragile—something he might have been able to protect.

It wasn’t reproach nor was it resentment.

It was simply a truth, spoken aloud. So light it seemed harmless when it fell, it sent a slow echo through him, one that gnawed quietly from within.

And that was why it hurt.

Heero sat still. A breath caught in his chest, as though his body itself was unsure how to respond. He looked at his own hand resting atop the open book, the fingers curling slightly, a vague reflex, as if bracing against a loss of balance.

He remembered that day. The library, the sunlight spilling over a white dress. The girl sitting alone for hours, surrounded by whispered rumors and distant, wary glances. He had seen her. He had walked toward her and… he had said nothing.

It was as if he had stood there holding everything he needed to reach her, but had turned away instead leaving her within that wall of silence, a wall he should have been the one to break.

His throat felt dry and raw. A simple apology, something that should have been easy now lodged somewhere deep, caught against the edges of pride. Or perhaps against the shell of detachment he had worn through all their lessons until now. Because for the first time, he realized his silence could wound. Not because of anything grand or irreversible only because… she had been waiting for something very small.

“…I’m sorry.”

The words were quiet, meant for her ears alone. Yet they carried the strain of something torn free from a weight that had never known language.

Relena gave no reply. Her hand resumed its movement, writing again as though nothing had been said. But her handwriting that day was slower than usual, and one period sat ever so slightly askew in the corner of the page.

The next day, Heero arrived earlier than usual. It wasn’t yet time for their lesson; the room was still as undisturbed as a lake before dawn. He stepped inside, something small and neatly wrapped in his hand. Relena was already there, as always, by the window where the light touched the cuff of her sleeve and the hem of her skirt. But today, instead of taking his seat at the desk, Heero set the package down on her table, then quietly crossed to the sofa in the corner.

He sat, elbows on his knees, chin in hand. His face was lowered, as if lost in thought far away but she noticed: his hand was faintly covering his mouth, and the curve of his ear was tinged with a sudden, subdued red. That color crept up to the edge of his hairline before retreating down the line of his collar.

She looked at the package. The wrapping was a deep, subdued blue—elegant yet calm, close enough to her eye color that it seemed deliberately chosen. There was no ribbon, no card. Just a gift, simple in form, yet filling the room with a quiet hesitation.

She opened it. Inside was a bottle of handcrafted European ink rare, nearly out of production, its black tinged with a subtle violet, refined and understated. Beside it lay a fountain pen, silver-gray in body, with a cap the color of mountain stone, glimmering faintly in the morning light.

Etched faintly along the barrel, so fine it could only be read when tilted at just the right angle, were the words:

When silence fails, let ink speak.

Relena’s fingers brushed the engraving, lingering as though touching something that had never been spoken aloud. She said nothing only lifted her gaze toward him. Heero kept his face turned away, chin still resting in his hand but his shoulders had drawn ever so slightly taut, as if bracing for a reaction.

For the first time, Relena saw him avoid her gaze. Not cold. Not indifferent. Just awkward—and earnestly, almost foolishly, sincere. A breeze slipped through the half-open window, brushing along the edge of the desk. The papers lifted briefly, then settled again. The room returned to silence but it was no longer the kind that made breathing feel heavy, like the day before. Relena said nothing. She looked at the pen for a moment longer, then closed the deep blue box with care, her hand lingering on the lid as though weighing something important.

From the notebook beside her, she tore out a small sheet of paper, carefully along the perforated line. Every motion was steady, unhurried. She uncapped the new pen—the very one he had just given her and set the nib gently against the paper.

Heero still hadn’t turned around. He could hear the soft strokes of writing, but didn’t ask, didn’t guess. A moment later, Relena rose from her seat. Two steps, no more, and she placed the neatly folded note on the desk beside him. No words, just the faint touch of paper against wood.

Heero glanced at it, half ready to look up but the pale ivory of her skirt was already moving away, returning to her place by the window. She sat as before, back straight, eyes lowered to the page as though nothing had happened, and nothing needed to be said.

He unfolded the note. The handwriting was rounded, evenly slanted to the right—familiar. Very Relena.

Thank you… for not letting the silence go on any longer.

That was all. Small with few words, unadorned. Yet it made Heero’s fingers close slightly, as though afraid to crease it.

From that day on, the note remained in a hidden pocket of his pen case. No one knew, and he never intended anyone to see. But sometimes, on late afternoons when the light outside the window matched that of that day, he would quietly take it out and look at it.

Not to read it but to remind himself that something was changing quietly, and irreversibly.

----------------------

Vice lifted a cigarette to his lips but didn’t light it. He turned to his friend and asked quietly,
“You’ve known since then?”

“Yeah. Back then I thought this boy, he’s not getting away.” Odin exhaled softly, as if confessing to himself.

“And I… I thought this girl, sooner or later, she’s going to wear my heart out.” Vice chuckled under his breath, his gaze warming without meaning to.

The two men said nothing more.

Somewhere, the wind moved through the trees in the yard, carrying with it the breath of days long past—a quiet they had, for a very long time now, stopped calling “coincidence.”

--------------------------

The light in the hospital room had softened, as if it too were holding its breath in time with the steady rhythm of the girl lying in bed. The faint scent of disinfectant eased as the window cracked open, letting in a trace of the garden’s evening flowers.

Heero sat at the edge of the bed, holding a small cloth to wipe away the bit of porridge at the corner of Relena’s mouth. On the table, the bowl was nearly empty only a few green onions floated in the warm broth that remained. He said nothing, made no rush, only scooped the last spoonful and brought it close to her lips.

“One more spoon” he murmured, his tone like an order, but with an awkwardness that was hard to name.

Relena braced her hands, sitting up a little more. Her eyes looked tired, yet still glimmered. She took the spoonful slowly, then smiled faintly.

“You take care of me like I’m a princess. Should I have the crown brought in, too?”

Heero didn’t answer just stood, poured her a glass of water, and placed it in her hand before sitting again.

“You look at me like I’m about to disappear.” Relena said softly, her eyes bright half teasing, half serious.

Heero turned, and his gaze dimmed.
“Last time… you almost did.”

The words made the air pause for a heartbeat. Relena stilled, her fingers tightening slightly on the glass. Then she nodded, not looking away.
“…Yeah. I know.”

Heero gently pulled the thin blanket up over her waist. He checked the thermometer on the table, then moved to clear the dishes, each action careful, deliberate—as though even the smallest lapse might cause the girl before him to vanish into thin air.

Resting her chin on her palm, Relena watched him move about the room.
“I heard from the doctor… you were discharged two days ago?”

Heero froze mid-motion, not turning back, but not denying it either.

“Then why are you still here?”

“…Because you haven’t gone anywhere yet.”

Relena let out a quiet laugh, coughed once, and quickly raised a hand to her mouth. Heero stepped over and offered her the water again.

“How could I go anywhere, when someone’s keeping watch over every spoon of porridge, every pill I take?”

Heero didn’t reply. But in that moment, Relena saw it clearly there are some things that don’t need to be spoken. Some people… just by staying, are already enough.

The hospital room was still, like water that had just ceased to ripple.
The wall clock ticked in its steady rhythm, and out in the hallway, the soft rattle of a medicine cart faded away—irrelevant to this small, sealed world.

Relena sat propped against the pillows, her shoulder tilted, hair spilling to one side. Her gaze was fixed on the window, avoiding Heero’s eyes as he returned with a pill in hand. The glass of water in his other hand caught the ceiling light, sending a faint shimmer across its surface.

“Just a few more minutes… please?” Relena’s voice was no louder than a breath, her eyes still turned away.
“That medicine is bitter… I hate that taste.”

Heero’s expression didn’t change. He held the pill out, the clock in his head already counting down.
“Doctor said on time. Skip now, it loses its effect.”

“Later.” she pleaded, tilting her head like a child trying to avoid homework.

He stood there a moment longer, staring at her, then lowered his voice.
“Take it… or I’ll use other means.”

Relena let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the headboard, her lashes curving upward in a playful challenge.
“You wouldn’t dare.”

The air stilled.

Heero’s face darkened not with an outburst of anger, but with a cold, quiet weight that made people step back without thinking. He set the glass of water on the table with a decisive motion, his fingers pausing over the pill.

Before she could react, he placed the pill between his own lips.

“You—!”

That was all she managed before her back instinctively pressed to the headboard, her breath catching as he closed the distance. His gaze never left hers sharp, unblinking, as if the rest of the world had fallen away. No warning.

One hand braced against the bed, his body leaning in. The other slid behind her neck, steady and careful, yet leaving no room to escape.

“Heero!”

She barely got his name out before his lips met hers. It wasn’t forceful nor was it hurried but close enough that the air between them froze solid. Relena’s eyes widened, her fingers clutching the blanket pulled across her lap.

The hand at her nape anchored her, firm enough that her whole body trembled. Heero angled his head slightly, parting her lips with a precision that was almost too deliberate. He passed the pill to her, and in that brief instant, his grip tightened fractionally holding down a breath that was starting to falter.

Relena nearly forgot to breathe. A faint trace of mint from his breath seeped into the cracks of her thoughts. His tongue brushed hers lightly just enough to guide the pill in but didn’t stop there.

Contact, and time itself, seemed drawn out.

He didn’t pull away immediately. He stayed there another heartbeat—just long enough to make it clear this was no simple act of administering medicine. Long enough to answer the earlier provocation with something that went far beyond dosage and schedule.

When he finally drew back, his expression was as calm as ever, though the slight curve at his lips wasn’t quite a smile more the glint of someone teasing without words.

Relena still couldn’t speak. Color bloomed from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, her fingers gripping the blanket as if it were her last anchor to reason. Her breath was quick, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of the pill… or something else entirely.

“You… before the accident… you weren’t like this.”

Her voice was small, with the faintest tremor, and her eyes still couldn’t quite meet his.

A beat of silence. Then he answered, slow and low:
“Back then… I thought I still had time.”

The words were clean, like a single cut. Short, yet enough to push all the air out of the room in an instant. Relena said nothing. She simply looked at him—truly looked—at the boy who had spent countless evenings studying beside her, the boy who once avoided touch and sidestepped anything personal.

Now he was the one lowering his head, offering her an answer no one had demanded, yet everyone would dread to hear.

That night, Heero stayed longer than usual.

Relena didn’t tease him as she had that afternoon. No complaints about hating her medicine, no daring little “you wouldn’t dare.” She was quiet, letting the soft yellow light settle over the space between them. The silence in the room wasn’t heavy; it was simply that too much had happened that day, and both their minds needed a stillness to catch up.

She had taken her medicine, eaten a few spoons of porridge. Heero was still there, even though the doctor had signed his discharge papers two days ago. Neither mentioned it. But the truth lingered silent, obvious, like an unnamed question hanging in the air: Why was he still here?

Relena leaned lightly against her pillow, her gaze drifting to the window, where the night had fallen thick with tree shadows and the sound of wind. Heero, who had kept his distance in the chair by her bed, now shifted closer, until his elbows rested loosely on the edge of the mattress, just a breath away from touching her.

“Relena.” His voice was low and even.

She turned to him. The slant of the light caught her cheekbone, and her eyes seemed veiled with a fragile mist, so delicate that anyone looking might fear to touch her.

Heero leaned in. His movement was so careful, so slow, it was as if one could hear time itself passing. His arm came around the back of her neck—not to hold her in some impulsive kiss, nor to force anything—but to draw her closer, as if the decision had been made long ago.

He spoke by her ear, his whisper so faint it was unclear whether it was a warning… or a gentle threat:

“If this ever happens again…”

His breath touched her skin cool, fine, like an invisible blade slicing through the air.

“…I’ll take you away.”

She startled, barely processing the words before his lips brushed the skin beneath her ear, then trailed slowly down her neck, right where her fragile pulse throbbed in wild, uneven beats.

A kiss.

A touch so light, so unhurried, yet like an undertow pulling all her senses awake at once leaving behind nothing but a nameless daze.

When Heero pulled back, his eyes were no longer the same. Gone was the cold composure of a tutor, or the guarded distance from her position. What looked back at her now was the gaze of someone who had chosen.

And anyone who had ever known the name Heero Yuy understood: once he chose, he would never turn back.

He repeated himself, once more by her ear, as if marking it into her:
“If this ever happens again…”

His voice was light as the night wind, but each word cut sharp as a blade through the space between them:
“…I won’t leave you here again.”

Relena froze, her heart skipping a beat. A cold shiver ran down her spine—not quite fear, not quite shock, but so vivid it rattled all her defenses.

What shook her wasn’t the closeness of their bodies, but… his tone. Not a threat. Not indulgence. It was a boundary clear, quiet, absolute, allowing no negotiation.

When his lips had touched her neck, even as lightly as a phantom, her body had reacted on instinct a slight flinch, yet no escape. The pace had been too slow, too deliberate, as if he intended for every sensation to sink deep.

Heero leaned back, and for the first time that night, he raised his hand, brushing her hair aside. His fingers slid along a lock from ear to shoulder, pausing atop the blanket, as if confirming something that had already been his.

Relena stared at him, wide-eyed—caught somewhere between confusion and something else she couldn’t name. She didn’t know whether she was afraid… or waiting.

“You…” she whispered, her voice catching, stopped by something she couldn’t put into words.

Heero didn’t withdraw his hand. He smiled faintly, a thin smile, as though he too was holding himself back from crossing a fragile line.

“Back then…” his voice dropped lower, speaking to her, and perhaps to himself as well “…I thought I still had time.”

Chapter Text

Beneath the glass, already blurred by a thin veil of mist, that voice slipped out so faintly that, if one didn’t listen closely, it might have been mistaken for nothing more than the wind brushing against the heavy curtains swaying ever so slightly.

“Impressive…”

The man remained still, showing no intention of turning around. The dim golden glow of the distant city spilled across only half of his profile, too faint to be seen clearly, yet enough to leave behind a chilling unease that words could never quite capture. For a few seconds, the silence between the thick walls carried with it a suffocating weight, the kind that always comes before something irreversible unfolds.

On the dark brown wooden table, two folders lay open side by side, like two straight lines that should never intersect, yet had been forced together by an unseen hand.

On the first cover, cold letters spelled out:
Heero Yuy – STEM Division, Peacecraft Academy.
Analytical capacity: beyond safe threshold. Tactical ability: exploitable at hazardous levels.

On the second:
Relena Darlian Peacecraft – Heiress of Peacecraft Corp.
Emotional influence on the community: extremely high. Potential to amplify collective will: exceptional.

A slender ribbon of cigarette smoke curled upward from his fingers. It slithered lazily, almost deliberately, brushing the edge of Relena’s file as if to deliver a silent warning.

“Living weapons… have no need for feelings.”

The words fell flat, drained of warmth, spoken with such practiced detachment that they resembled a formula recited countless times before, now summoned again only because the moment demanded it.

“It’ll make you weak, Heero.”

Beyond the glass window stretched a night as dense as poured asphalt. And for an instant so brief it almost escaped notice, it felt as though even the darkness itself bowed its head to the quiet calculation taking shape inside that room.

He closed Relena’s file first, not Heero’s as though the choice of what must be eliminated had been decided long ago.

“The time has come… for her to disappear once again.”

The whisper of the folder shutting lasted less than a heartbeat, yet in the dead silence it rang sharp, like the click of a safety catch released on a weapon long kept waiting.

At that very moment, a plan thought to be buried under the dust of peaceful years stirred awake and began to move.

The man leaned back slightly, resting against the cold edge of the table. His narrow eyes narrowed further, as though the fragmented lights of the distant city weren’t what he saw at all… but a memory, clawing its way back unbidden.

…A training ground, blazing under a midsummer sun.

Boots hammered against the dry earth. Hoarse shouts cracked through the air, while dozens of hardened bodies, drenched in sweat, endured the brutal rhythm. It was a “special” drill reserved only for the most defiant. Yet the boy in the center betrayed no strain, no panic. He didn’t strike back, nor did he flinch unnecessarily. He simply slipped past every blow with uncanny precision, as if each strike had been foretold. His movements… were not instinct. They were something programmed into his body long before he could even remember.

“That boy doesn’t belong here…”

The man had stood beneath the old wooden stands, close enough to hear each ragged breath drawn in the pit. At his side was Odin Yuy, arms folded, gaze fixed on the child yet betraying nothing.

“You really mean to let that talent rot away?”

The question earned no reply. Odin did not grow angry, nor did he defend himself. He simply stayed silent, as though staring not at the boy, but into his own memories. A silence so unshakably firm that it left no doubt: he knew exactly what he was protecting.

And in that moment, the man beside him understood. Odin Yuy was not “raising” a weapon. He was hiding it keeping it from falling into the hands of men like him.

The very next day, Odin vanished from the camp together with the boy, leaving behind not a single word of explanation.

…Back in the present, the man’s finger tapped against the folder cover slow, steady, patient. The patience of someone who had waited far too long, and thus no longer needed to hurry.

“So that’s it… You tried to drag the boy beyond my reach.”

A thin smile curved across his lips cold, stripped of the faintest trace of warmth.
“Too bad… the Peacecraft girl has pulled him right back onto the track.”

He flipped open the second folder. Inside, photographs were neatly arranged: Relena standing beside Heero beneath trees littered with autumn leaves, another in the hushed silence of the library, yet another along the hallway near the laboratory as twilight bled away. None of these images held any tactical worth… yet they were dangerous all the same, in a completely different sense. They awakened something that was never meant to exist inside a “perfect weapon.”

“Erase that weakness…” 

This time, the voice no longer carried the air of detached observation. It rang as an absolute command.

“…and the machine will function again.”

A sudden gust swept past the windows outside, rattling dry leaves against the glass. The sound was sharp, like the activation signal of some unseen mechanism slipping silently into motion.

Within the cramped office, where the amber lamp light spilled across aged wood and timeworn files, Odin stood still, unmoving, like a stone statue planted in the night. His calloused fingers lingered on the open file, curling slightly as though restraining themselves from shutting it restraining themselves from sealing away the truth just revealed. The thin light traced the lines carved deep by the years upon his face, turning his eyes into fathomless wells, as if behind that calm exterior lay a locked door now on the verge of being forced open.

The scaffolding accident… An event that seemed accidental on the surface, yet cleared so methodically it was impossible to call chance. Too polished, too seamless, as if the script had been written long ago, waiting only for the signal to be performed: construction error, human oversight, systemic fault words chosen carefully to placate the public, yet hollow, empty to a man like him.

It wasn’t the headlines that made Odin linger, it was the speed. The swiftness of the cleanup, of the security reports stamped and filed the very same day, of the extracted surveillance footage neatly inserted into internal archives with not a single gap on paper. Too clean, too efficient… and far too familiar. The same clinical efficiency used when special units “handled” an accident to make someone disappear without a ripple.

He had lived long enough, stood deep enough within the shadows, to know one thing well: in that world, coincidence simply did not exist.

And when his gaze fell upon the final line of the report that Relena Darlian Peacecraft, heiress to a corporation synonymous with peace, had been injured when scaffolding collapsed in a supposedly closed corridor under security manned by ex-soldiers, under a double surveillance grid, his doubts dissolved completely. This was no accident. It was a warning, laid out in advance, delivered at the exact moment, to the exact target.

On the desk lay the copied data: frame by frame of security footage, replayed until he could summon every detail with his eyes closed. Relena stepping into the empty corridor. The direction of her gaze. Her final step before the feed broke into static. And in that split second before the distortion, a shadowed figure at the opposite end of the hall. Too faint for the untrained eye, but enough for Odin to recognize the familiar gait of one trained to strike without leaving behind a breath.

Odin sank into the chair, not to rest, but to steady the silence within him before it boiled into storm. He leaned back slightly, eyes darkening, as if a long-sealed door in his memory had just swung open.

Someone wanted the girl erased and that someone… had returned.

Without haste, he pulled open the drawer and drew out an old phone. It had lain dormant all this time, as though it had never needed to be used yet its very existence was a silent pact between men who understood the weight of things that should never be spoken aloud.

The ring tone on the other end echoed like a call from another world. No music, no pleasantries—only silence, thick as the night outside until Odin’s voice cut through, low and steady, heavy as the grinding of iron doors being pried open.

“It’s me. Send me all data on the scaffolding incident at Peacecraft Academy. Classification: national security.”

He paused not to breathe, but to hold back a thought that threatened to spill forth.
“…Perhaps it’s time I stepped out of silence.”

Across the city, in a cavernous study where the night wind could only whisper faintly through thick panes of glass, Vice stood amidst scattered plans when the phone on his desk trembled with a discreet vibration. He glanced at the screen and froze. Not because of the name, but because of the line itself: a secure channel, one reserved only for the gravest emergencies between their two families. A line he and Odin had set up years ago, on the day they sat together by a fishing lake and agreed… that if the world ever reached again for their children, they would no longer stand aside.

When the phrase “national security” hit his ear, his face darkened like something old and terrible had clawed its way back from the abyss.

Odin had never been the one to reach out. Never at this hour. And never, never invoking those words. Which was why, when the call ended, Vice remained motionless for several seconds more, like a man jarred awake by a bell from a life he thought he’d left behind.

At last, he set the phone down and stepped toward the tall windows, where the curtains swayed faintly in the draft. Outside, the Peacecraft flag rippled slow, steady, unyielding. A sight that dragged back too many things he had tried to forget.

His gaze shifted not that of a shrewd businessman anymore, but that of a former officer who had once seen the true shape of the darkness. And now, he saw it again not through warnings, but through the action of another survivor.

“…So you still think… the girl is just an easy target.” 

His voice wasn’t loud, but each word rolled heavy as stone, firm and resolute as though he spoke to himself, or perhaps to unseen watchers lurking somewhere in the dark.

“Fine…”

He unfastened his cuff, flexing his wrist as if to rouse some long-slumbering reflex. Then he crossed to the filing cabinet by the wall, drawing open the third drawer, the one without a label, where nothing was ever logged on company systems.

Inside lay old files with edges yellowed by time, documents marked with top-secret codes, nameless business cards, and a pair of gloves wrapped in velvet gloves that only ever emerged when it was time to employ methods the wider world was never meant to know.

“…Then we’ll see, this time… who’s the one that disappears.”

Vice drew a deep breath, letting the chill of composure fill his lungs, forcing back the tide of emotion. His fingers curled as he pulled out a thick, darkened folder, flipping it open to the section on old operations: the registry of individuals “retired from service but still in contact.” Few knew that before becoming Chairman of Peacecraft, he had led the Special Tactical Analysis Unit himself facing down infiltration squads and hunting shadows. And many of those who once fought at his side… had not yet vanished from the map.

He pulled out the chair and sat before the isolated computer. His hand did not tremble as he typed in the password—a sequence left untouched for more than a decade. The screen shifted from black to a monochrome interface, so stripped down that no one would have believed it still connected to the ancient networks thought to have been dissolved long ago.

“Delta-Four-Zero-Seven…” he whispered each character as he typed, his voice low, as though confirming to himself the reality of the path he had just chosen.

One final press of Enter.

The signal shot outward, tunneling through layered encryption toward an address that had never existed on any contemporary military system. It was not a broadcast, not a summons to many. It was a call meant only for a few the ones who had once walked beside him into missions the world’s papers had never even heard of.

Vice closed his eyes for a heartbeat. Not in hesitation, but to steady the cold fury that had risen inside him, heavy and unrelenting as a tide.

Beyond the window, the night wind surged, whipping the Peacecraft flag into waves as though answering the silent declaration of war just released into the dark.

Half a world away, in an unmarked room, a small monitor flickered to life on the very frequency forgotten for over ten years. A plan buried in memory, sealed as though it would never be needed again, began to turn its gears once more.

Vice’s hand moved to the left drawer of his desk. Inside lay a different phone, one not tied to any company system, nor to the secure line with Odin. This one was personal… reserved for only a single name.

He stared at the dark screen for several seconds, as if measuring the weight of the years gone by, then pressed and held the power switch. A single encrypted contact appeared. No verification was needed.

Milliardo Peacecraft.

Vice raised the phone to his ear. On the other side, the call was answered after just one ring. No delay as if the person had been waiting for it all along.

“It’s me.” His voice was deep and steady, every word carrying the weight of iron down to the marrow. No greeting and no hesitation.

On the far end, there was a brief silence. Then a man’s voice replied, hoarse, calm, and sharp as an order:
“I understand.”

Vice let his eyes slip closed for a fleeting moment, releasing both the burden and the resolve he had been holding since the night began.

“Move within twenty-four hours. Take the old corridor route. Do not contact the current defense command… not until further confirmation from me or Odin.”

“Understood.” The reply was clipped, devoid of surprise.

The call ended.

Vice placed the phone back in the drawer, but his posture had changed. He no longer bore the air of a businessman standing over countless projects, but of a commander who had stepped out of peacetime at last.

Outside, the wind surged again, carrying the metallic bite of late night across the grounds.

“…This time… we won’t let anyone lay a hand on her again.”

----------------------------------

The infirmary was bathed in a gentle white light, the faint scent of antiseptic drifting through the air like a thin veil, muffling even breath itself, making the silence deeper than usual.

Relena steadied herself against the cold metal rail of the bed, her slender fingers tightening slightly for support before she slowly stepped forward. Her pale hair slid down her fragile shoulders, the hem of the hospital gown swaying with each uneven breath. Her back shivered at times, betraying the memory of a blow her body had yet to forget.

Her steps were so soft they scarcely made a sound, yet each faint movement drew a different silence into motion for just behind her, close enough for a single breath to bridge, Heero followed. He didn’t speak, or press her forward also not touch her. But every time she wavered, tilted ever so slightly, his hand would lift close enough to catch her, steady enough to erase the fear of falling.

Relena took another step, slow but resolute. Her lashes lowered, trembling faintly as though to shield the weariness in her eyes.

“…I’m fine.”

The whisper was so soft it seemed meant for herself alone. Yet Heero heard it. He said nothing, only shifted half a step forward, keeping their distance exactly the same as if creating an invisible circle of protection that moved wherever she did.

When she drifted past the edge of the table near the window, her body leaned forward. Heero’s hand reached out without hesitation, brushing her elbow light, fleeting, yet firm enough to hold her steady. He let go the instant she stood balanced again.

Relena did not turn back. But her lips curved faintly, a smile so small it was almost not there, like a ray of morning sun gliding across the surface of a still lake.

The clock on the wall ticked on, each second steady. Neither spoke, yet the silence carried no distance. It was something already understood without words: Heero no longer held himself apart. He had chosen, quietly but surely, to stay behind her, beside her, close enough to reach out before she ever touched the ground.

And Relena… no longer feared falling. Because in that moment, she knew there would always be someone there.

Heero tilted his head slightly, his voice low, deep, a murmur from just behind her:
“Don’t try to do this alone.”

Relena stood still for a few seconds before she nodded softly.
“Then… don’t take your eyes off me.”

Her reply was no louder than a breath, but it carried a weight that struck directly into Heero’s chest. He lowered his eyes, answering just as quietly, yet with the firmness of a vow:

“I won’t.”

Relena stopped by the window across from the bed. The distance was less than ten steps, but the way she exhaled, the way her shoulders eased made it feel as though she had walked a road long enough to remind herself that she had, indeed, survived.

Heero glanced at her once, then quietly unlatched the window. The glass opened with a faint sound, letting in the evening air, cool and clean, laced with the soft fragrance of magnolias blooming early in the garden below. The thin white curtain billowed, brushing her shoulder like a breath against her skin before drifting back again.

Relena raised her fingertips to the glass, touching it gently, as though testing if the world outside was real. Her eyes fell on the garden, where pale magnolias bloomed along the stone path, so luminous in the fading light they seemed to glow.

“The first flowers I’ve seen… after waking like this…”

Her voice trembled faintly before she steadied it.

“…are because of you.”

Heero stood just behind her, eyes on the reflected light in the glass. He remembered with sharp clarity, the morning she first awoke, clinging to the rail at the end of the hall, gasping for breath, her knuckles white as she forced herself not to collapse again. Back then, she hadn’t looked out the window. She had looked only down at her feet, as though the world beyond was too far away and her only duty was to remain standing.

Relena tilted her head slightly half toward the sunset, half to reassure herself that he was still there.

“How long… will you stay?”

Her question was soft, carrying no bind, yet in the stillness it struck like a sudden pause in the heart.

Heero turned, catching the curve of her face lit by dusk, the line of her jaw, her eyes no longer dim as before, but shimmering faintly with a gentle light.

“Until the day you no longer need to ask.”

His answer came slowly, low and unyielding not mere comfort, but an admission, a truth he had long wanted to give voice to finally finding its form at last.

Relena’s fingers tightened against the window frame, but this time, her shoulders no longer trembled. Another breeze slipped in, carrying a few magnolia petals that drifted down into the courtyard below. 

Heero no longer kept that one-step distance between them. He moved forward, side by side with her, his hand resting on the frame right next to hers, not touching, but close enough that she could feel his warmth.

And in that utterly ordinary moment, they stood together. No longer as tutor and young lady, no longer bound by the roles the past had forced upon them. Only two people breathing quietly, gazing out the window at petals slowly falling, as if something gentle and undeniable had just taken root in the silence.

Out in the hallway, six figures stood in a perfectly straight line, like statues freshly set in place. They were so motionless that anyone walking by might have mistaken it for some kind of living exhibit. Duo was practically bent in half toward the half-open door, both hands braced on his knees, eyes sparkling with the devotion of a fan who had just reached the climax of a hundred-episode series.

“Oh my god… right at that angle too… absolutely perfect…” he whispered, his voice trembling with barely-contained excitement. “I told you, that guy…”

He didn’t even finish before his collar was yanked back. Quatre had pulled him with just enough force to keep him from barging in, his usual gentle smile still in place but his lowered voice carried the edge of a threat:

“Duo. If you step in right now, it won’t be called ‘visiting.’ It’ll be called ‘ruining everything.’”

From across the hall, Wufei crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, sparing him a glance dripping with disdain.

“And don’t expect me to collect your corpse when Heero cracks your skull open with a crutch.”

Hilde, still fairly new among them but quick enough to read the air, spoke in a hushed voice, her eyes widening slightly.

“Maybe… we should wait just a little longer.”

Dorothy, head tilted against the doorframe, lips curled in a smile as if she were savoring an exquisite stage play, chimed in lazily:

“Huh… I’d say at least give them a minute. Especially since Heero did just say something that sounded an awful lot like… a confession.”

A silence heavy enough to drop like a weight fell over the hallway.

Duo whipped his head toward Quatre, eyes bulging with restrained panic, his whisper nearly breaking into a squeak:

“But if we wait any longer, I’ll explode! One more line like that and it’ll be like witnessing a marriage ceremony on the spot!”

Trowa, who hadn’t spoken a word the whole time, simply placed a calm hand on Duo’s shoulder. His voice was so steady that no one could tell whether it was meant to soothe… or to chill:

“Then just watch. Quietly.”

Quatre let out a breath, soft enough that only he himself could hear it. It was the kind of sigh that carried both resignation… and a warmth he couldn’t quite hide.

“…Good thing we don’t have classes today.”

No one objected. Because all of them were thinking the same thing whatever was happening beyond that door was worth waiting for, even if it was just to hear a single more line.

Even Duo, the loudest among them, could only clutch his head and grit his teeth, fighting down the urge to yell encouragement.

Meanwhile, inside the room, the breeze moved gently through the curtains, and the two by the window remained side by side completely unaware of the “audience” holding their breath just outside, desperate for the next chapter to unfold.

After a while, Relena leaned slightly, as though the last of her strength just to remain standing had finally run out. Heero caught her arm immediately, his motion so swift and firm that he left her no chance to resist.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly, voice even, but his grip at her elbow was steady and unyielding. “Time to rest.”

Relena gave him a fleeting look, her lips pressing together as though she wanted to insist she could go on. But faced with those eyes so unwavering it was almost impossible to argue, she finally gave the faintest nod. Without a word, he moved behind her, slipping an arm around her waist, guiding her step by step back toward the bed.

This time, Relena didn’t lean on the frame or the furniture for support. She leaned on him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world after everything that had just passed.

Heero lowered his head slightly as she sat on the edge of the bed, his hand still resting on her shoulder to make sure she wouldn’t tip backward. The last of the evening light traced a soft line across his face, making his deep blue eyes gentler than usual.

“I’m not going anywhere.” he murmured, barely louder than a breath.

Relena lifted her gaze to him, and in her eyes was something that both softened and shone, as if she could finally believe that his words… were real.

Out in the hallway, six figures remained frozen in place. But inside the room, there was only two people, and a silence as delicate as the magnolia petals that had drifted down settling quietly after a long journey through the air.

Just as the group outside was still holding their collective breath, waiting for the next episode of this “free romance drama” Heero suddenly turned. His footsteps were barely audible against the hospital tiles, yet to the six figures pressed against the door crack, it was nothing less than a siren blaring.

Duo froze on the spot, mouth still open mid-whisper then the door swung wide.

Heero stood there. His gaze was calm, cold enough to drop the temperature of the entire hallway for a heartbeat. He swept his eyes across each of them, one by one. It was the kind of stare that forced hearts to stop beating for a second. Three whole seconds passed before that gaze finished its silent march across their lineup.

Quatre faltered, though his smile remained faintly intact. Dorothy arched a brow, more entertained than intimidated. Hilde lowered her head at once, as if declaring her total innocence. Wufei turned away, expression reading “I was dragged into this.” Trowa didn’t move, though his eyes slid away out of pure survival instinct. And Duo… looked one breath away from screaming.

But Heero said nothing. He simply… turned back inside toward Relena, leaving the door wide open: a silent warning.

The air was so taut that Duo needed a full heartbeat just to process what had happened. He swallowed hard, staring at that retreating back, and finally muttered, bitterly:

“… We barely get a taste of happiness and he already caught us…”

Quatre shifted smoothly, stepping into the doorway with a soft cough, whispering through gritted teeth:

“Calm down. Do you actually want to die?”

Wufei gave a small nod of agreement. Rarely did the two of them see eye to eye—but this was one of those times.

Inside, Heero stood at Relena’s bedside as though nothing had happened outside. He placed one hand lightly on the bedframe, ready to steady her if needed, and leaned down to murmur something meant for her ears alone. Relena nodded gently, lashes trembling as she lowered her gaze, her ears coloring faintly pink in a way that no curtain could hide. The room softened instantly, like velvet.

For three seconds, the group outside were statues six nosy onlookers turned into marble, breath held, movement stilled. Then, as if a silent signal had passed among them, they bowed their heads and filed into the room, step by solemn step, like participants in some strange, hushed ritual.

Hilde slipped by first, body shrunk small as though she had brushed past a wild beast currently in a “temporary good mood.” Trowa was last. When he entered, he quietly closed the door behind him with practiced care, like a stagehand drawing the curtains after the lead actor had just delivered a public confession.

Duo… had come prepared. Ever since they’d left the dorms, he’d been rehearsing a warm, cheerful greeting: “Relena! We came to—”

But as soon as he opened his mouth, Heero turned his head. One glance and that was all. A light, precise, perfectly direct glance that cut him off at the root.

The entire speech evaporated on the spot. Duo snapped his mouth shut, swallowed his words with the air in his throat, and slumped awkwardly into a chair by the medicine cabinet. After a long internal struggle, he fished out an apple from his pocket, held it up as if presenting an offering, and stammered:

“Uh… apple’s… good.”

Silence.

For a moment, no one said a thing. Quatre’s shoulders sank as he exhaled, quiet but laden with resignation, his lips twitching against the urge to laugh. Relena looked at each of them in turn, and then, for the first time since waking up, she let out a small laugh. Heero didn’t smile, but his gaze softened the instant it fell on her—no longer cold, no longer guarded. Simply calm, peaceful, enough to make one forget this was a hospital room.

And so the “visit” began. No proper order, no real sense of occasion: awkward, quiet… yet strangely warm, in a way that left no one feeling the need to say anything more.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere at first was awkward, as though even the faintest noise might shatter the fragile moment that had just formed. Naturally Duo was the first to try breaking the ice. He cleared his throat, pulled his chair closer to the bedside, elbows resting on his knees, mouth half-open…but Heero had already seated himself in the chair beside Relena, arms crossed, one leg casually over the other, gaze fixed straight ahead. His expression was calm but the sharp focus in his eyes was like an automated laser turret waiting to lock on to any target that dared move.

Duo’s words died in his throat the instant Heero’s cool side glance swept past him. His carefully prepared “icebreaker” burned to ashes before it even reached his lips.

He sat there stiff for a moment, then forced himself to cough again and change his tone. “Uh… right, we just wanted to ask… Relena, how are you feeling?”

Relena smiled gently. “I’m feeling much better. Thank you, everyone, for coming.”

As Duo swallowed his wounded pride from being robbed of the right to speak, the mood in the room began to ease. Heero remained where he was, posture straight, arms folded, one leg over his knee seemingly calm, yet radiating invisible “laser beams” that warned anyone not to cross the line unless they wanted to be turned to stone.

Quatre was the first to start a safe conversation, softly asking Relena if she was eating well. Trowa and Hilde followed with polite greetings. Wufei only gave a quiet “hm” the kind of muted concern he was known for. Dorothy, on the other hand, perched on the edge of a desk, legs crossed, head tilted with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Our ECON department is doing fine, but POLIS is in chaos. A whole week without anyone shutting down Professor Brecht’s lectures on human rights. Without Princess Peacecraft around to argue, the POLIS kids are saying they’ve lost half their will to live.”

The room instantly burst into laughter. Relena bowed her head a little in embarrassment, fingers entwined on her lap, but the smile tugging at her lips couldn’t be hidden. Wufei clicked his tongue as if Dorothy’s statement wasn’t dramatic enough.

“Not half. A full fifty percent. I’ve heard the Debate Club’s petitioning to postpone matches because they’re ‘short on morale units.’”

Relena let out a small laugh just as she turned her head meeting Heero’s eyes. He had been watching to make sure she was truly fine. Their gazes held for a brief moment of silence. Heero gave a single, quiet nod. Relena exhaled softly, her shoulders loosening just a bit more.

Sensing the ice had melted, Duo leaned half a step closer, voice lowered into a joke:

“Seriously though… if Heero doesn’t take you out for sunbathing every day, we might have to forge a bronze statue of you and deliver it to POLIS, just so they’ll have something to kneel before.”

The “laser beams” flared instantly.

Duo recoiled back into his chair so fast it almost left an afterimage, grinning like someone who’d just received a court summons.

“…What I meant was… Heero’s been doing… an excellent job.”

The room trembled with suppressed laughter. Hilde lowered her head, covering her mouth. Dorothy crossed her arms with an exaggerated sigh.

“Ha. A national-level danger zone if you joke at the wrong time.”

Trowa leaned toward Quatre and muttered.

“If we make it out of this hospital visit alive, consider it one more level in combat experience.”

Quatre only smiled faintly, silently agreeing. Relena looked at each of them with warm eyes, the kind of gaze that felt like she was finally back where she belonged. Then she turned to Heero again, lips moving in a silent it’s okay. Heero watched her for a moment, then slowly uncrossed his arms, resting one hand lightly on the edge of his chair. The “laser beams” dimmed.

Duo used the chance to discreetly wipe the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, whispering to Hilde with tragic drama:

“…I swear, until Relena fully recovers, I’m drafting a will before every visit here…”

Hilde bit her lip, nodding in sympathy. Dorothy, however, laughed out loud from the foot of the bed, utterly unashamed to be enjoying what was basically a round of psychological training camp. Feeling his courage return after pretending to wipe sweat, Duo leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees, peeking at Heero with a “can’t you take a joke?” expression. He gave a theatrical cough:

“By the way… rumor’s spreading in STEM. They say Heero Yuy’s been ‘wiped off the system’ since the day of discharge. Vanished from class rosters. No face sightings, no email replies. People are whispering… maybe POLIS kidnapped him.”

Heero didn’t look at him. Calmly, he set an elbow on the armrest beside Relena and spoke, voice low but cutting through the relaxed air:

“Chairman Peacecraft has granted me leave.”

…Silence.

Duo froze, jaw snapping shut like a locked hatch. Quatre blinked in surprise, as if to confirm he really just heard those words in that deadly serious Heero tone. Wufei coughed lightly, turning away to hide the tug at his lips. Trowa merely stared at Duo with the kind of look that said I told you to shut up.

Hilde, witnessing this for the first time, inhaled sharply, clutching the hem of her shirt to stop herself from laughing. Dorothy couldn’t resist, leaning forward with a smirk, voice dripping with delight:

“My, my… sounds just like family privileges.”

“Hey hey wait, don’t use dangerous words like that right in front of them!” Duo sputtered, panicked.

But Relena was the one who laughed first. A small, clear laugh that instantly brightened the whole room. Heero tilted his head slightly toward her, his eyes softening, as though nothing more needed to be explained.

Quatre exhaled with a smile, the corners of his eyes full of quiet understanding: Yeah, we get it now. Wufei huffed under his breath, adding his own low conclusion:

“…Guess that makes it official.”

Duo slapped his forehead in defeat.

“Come on, give me a break… I came here to visit the patient, not to get force-fed a full-course couple’s meal at international scale…”

Trowa patted his shoulder lightly, a solemn gesture of condolences.

The hospital room was larger than the usual ones, so after a nurse brought in two extra folding chairs, the whole group naturally gathered in a corner near the window far enough not to intrude, yet close enough to… see everything happening by the bed.

At first glance, they looked like they were just chatting about classes and casually gossiping about the morning lecture. But in reality, every pair of eyes under the cover of remarkable subtlety kept drifting toward the hospital bed where Relena sat. And right beside her sat Heero. Not “politely keeping his distance” like before, but actually right beside her. His chair was pulled so close that when Relena let her feet touch the floor, the hem of her blouse brushed lightly against his knee.

He didn’t talk much like Just now and then, he would lower his head slightly to ask things as simple as: “Are you tired?” or “Do you want some water?” But with that distance so unbearably close even those ordinary words sent a faint blush rushing to Relena’s ears.

From the “observation point” corner, Duo tilted his head, whispering at a snail’s pace as though he were decrypting a secret code:

“Hey… guys… look at that distance. That is not normal. Absolutely not normal…”

Quatre adjusted the cuff of his school uniform sleeve, his voice no louder than a breath:

“If you raise your voice even a little more, you’ll lose the chance to observe at all.”

Wufei stood with arms crossed against the wall, expression impassive but eyes sharp. He lowered his voice just enough for the group to hear:

“In STEM physical training, Heero always completed every drill with absolute precision, never once losing focus.”

He paused, glanced toward the two sitting by the bed, and spoke slowly, like delivering a tactical conclusion:

“But right now… he’s clearly reallocating his focus to a different target.”

Dorothy curved her lips in amusement, snapping her ECON notebook shut with practiced grace.

“Focus… well past regulation limits.”

Trowa didn’t speak, but his gaze lingered on Heero for a long moment. At last, he gave the faintest nod, as if to confirm Dorothy’s assessment. Hilde hugged a bag of fruit in her arms, murmuring softly:

“…But that’s a good thing. Relena looks… like she can finally breathe a little easier.”

The group fell silent.

At that very moment, Relena let out a small laugh at something Heero said quietly. She tilted her head, resting it lightly against her shoulder as though to hide the glow in her eyes, while Heero leaned closer, one hand on the bedrail as if unconsciously shielding her from anyone else. No one in the group spoke again but the air around them shifted, as though they had just witnessed something far more important than the teasing earlier.

Duo inhaled, whispering in a tone that was half plea, half declaration:

“…I swear. Our next physical training should be renamed ‘emergency drills for witnesses of romance.’”

Wufei couldn’t hold it back this time; a short laugh escaped with his trademark “Hmm”

Duo squirmed in his chair like a restless cat, eyes locked on the “defender–blushing heroine” only a few steps away, chest rising and falling as if one more second of this would overload him into collapse.

Finally, he cracked, leaning close to Quatre, almost clutching his sleeve whispering with the urgency of someone planning a military base infiltration:

“What if… what if I just ask them straight? Like: ‘are you two dating?’ Just ask and boom, done!”

Quatre froze for a heartbeat, then exhaled with the weariness of someone hearing a best friend beg to commit daylight suicide.

“Duo… with your timing right now, there’s about a seventy percent chance Heero would throw his chair at your head.”

Duo shuddered, swallowing hard. “…And the other thirty percent…?”

Quatre opened his eyes, fixing Duo with a serious look so sharp the air in the corner seemed to tighten.

“The other thirty percent is Relena blurting out ‘we’re not!’… followed immediately by a scene worth three times more than your question.”

Duo went silent.
…pondered.
…then nodded solemnly, like a disciple just enlightened to a secret art.

“You’re right. I… shall wait for the scene after.”

Without looking up, Trowa added in his even tone: “Knowing when to wait is the most basic survival skill inside Heero’s range of influence.”

Wufei’s low “ha” carried full agreement, as though it were an unspoken rule carved in stone.

At the bedside, Relena had just lifted her face to whisper something to Heero. He leaned down to listen, and now the space between them… was only a few centimeters.

Duo shivered, tugging at Quatre’s sleeve again, whispering in near panic: “Is… is the next scene about to start?”

Quatre kept his calm tone, gently placing a hand on Duo’s shoulder as an anchor: “Patience. It will.”

Duo swallowed loudly.

And once again, all six of them fell into dead silence. Not daring to breathe too loudly, eyes fixed on the bed where Relena smiled faintly with lips pressed together, while Heero leaned closer, as if the entire world beyond her had ceased to exist. The only sounds in the room were the hum of the air conditioner, the ticking of the clock, and the thundering heartbeats of several unwilling witnesses.

Duo clenched both fists tight, nodding with a rare seriousness, like a man standing before the launch hatch of a suicide mission. He took a deep breath, shot Quatre the look of a warrior ready to march into battle, and declared:

“I’ll sacrifice myself. You guys… owe me a bowl of ramen.”

Quatre didn’t have time to stop him. Wufei frowned, hand half–raised as if to grab his sleeve, but too late. Dorothy, on the other hand, let out a quiet laugh—eyes sparkling as if she were about to witness a delicious match unfold. And so, without the slightest warning, Duo sprang up from his chair like a coiled spring. Hands shoved in his pockets, feigning casualness, he strode the last few steps to the bedside and stopped right in front of the hospital bed.

He cleared his throat, plastered on the kind of harmless smile that only made him look even more suspicious.

“Uh, hey…”

The entire corner group lifted their heads at once.

“Heero… Relena…”

Duo planted a hand on his hip, tilting his head at his signature fifteen–degree angle of clueless bravado.

“…Are you two dating?”

…

CLINK.

The sound of a spoon hitting the inside of a cup rang soft, but in that quiet hospital room it was the equivalent of a red–alert siren. Relena froze, her eyes flying wide open in panic. And then almost springing out of her skin, she shook her head violently, voice breaking, trembling, small:

“N-no, we’re not…!”

But her cheeks bloomed with a soft pink that made any denial utterly meaningless.

No one said a word.

Duo’s jaw dropped, eyes locked wide. Hilde raised a hand to cover her mouth as though she’d just witnessed a history–defining event. Dorothy tilted her head, a satisfied “hmm…” slipping from her lips as if she’d stumbled into a bonus scene no ticket could buy. Quatre narrowed his eyes, lips curving faintly as though he were already saving the data into long–term storage. Trowa touched his chin lightly, leaning a bit to confirm the exact shade of Relena’s blush. Wufei gave a small huff but the corner of his mouth curved upward by exactly one millimeter.

As for Heero, he didn’t look at anyone else except only at the girl blushing beside him.

He shifted slightly closer, bracing a hand against the bedframe not subtly shielding her from Duo’s proximity before lowering his head. His voice was soft, low, steady. Less a reassurance than a declaration.

“…Don’t worry. I won’t deny it.”

Quiet enough for only the two of them to hear with their ears. Loud enough for the entire group to hear with their hearts.

In that instant, the sugar level in the room spiked by fifty percent.

Hilde clutched her fruit bag tighter to her chest, heart racing like she was sprinting. Dorothy touched a finger lightly to her lips, smiling like a critic savoring an uncut film reel. Quatre tilted his head, hand covering his mouth to smother the sound threatening to escape. Trowa exhaled softly but his eyes clearly said, as expected. Wufei turned his head away, ears reddening, muttering under his breath: “Irrational… but acceptable.”

Relena forgot to breathe. Her hands gripped the bedsheet, eyes wide with disbelief, then slowly lowered as the blush spread down her neck. Only then did Heero lift his gaze straight at Duo. The moment his eyes shifted, the room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

“If you ask that again…” His voice was calm, but solid steel. “…I’ll throw you off the balcony with one hand.”

Duo froze solid. One second later, both hands shot up in surrender as if facing a special ops squad.

“O-okay! I’ll shut up! Shutting up right now!”

Heero stared another half second, confirming the target was neutralized, then turned back to Relena. Instantly, his gaze softened, as though the threat just now had never happened. The whole group exhaled in unison. No one dared laugh, but every corner of every mouth curled upward in their own way.

One question.
One fallen spoon.
One whispered answer, gentler than any denial.

And just as Quatre had predicted… the scene that followed was worth far, far more. Duo staggered back to the corner like a soldier who’d barely returned from the frontlines. His steps wobbled, but his head was held high with proud defiance. He collapsed into the sofa, hand on the armrest, eyes shining like a martyr vindicated.

“Alright… you guys owe me ramen. Deal’s sealed. I sacrificed myself for the future of mankind.”

Quatre chuckled softly, shaking his head as though to say fine, fine. Wufei crossed his arms, shooting Duo a look of disbelief.

“You… really have a death wish.”

Duo only shrugged, grinning with pure conviction.

“Dying for a cause doesn’t sound like such a bad way to go!”

Hilde swallowed down a laugh, bowing her head to hide her twitching shoulders. Dorothy leaned back with her arms crossed, arching an eyebrow, voice smooth with satisfaction:

“Reckless, yes. But the results… are undeniable.”

Trowa leaned against the window frame, gaze unfocused but lips faintly curved, a silent acknowledgment. And all at once, their eyes drifted back to the bed.

Heero still leaned close, head tilted near Relena’s ear. Whatever words passed between them, no one else could hear. But the space between them was far too small, small enough to feel like an invisible barrier excluded all outsiders. Relena kept her head lowered, hands gripping the blanket, cheeks still pink… but this time, she didn’t pull away. She tilted slightly toward him, as though choosing at last to lean on him just a little more.

Duo let out a tiny whistle, just loud enough for the corner group.

“Holy hell… look at that angle. The way he leans in like that… we’re basically invisible to them.”

Wufei huffed, as if to say of course they don’t see us, Trowa nodded once, Quatre pressed his lips together, eyes shining with something gentle. Dorothy propped her chin on her palm, sighing with the contentment of a critic watching a masterpiece.

“…We really are watching a live political–romance drama, aren’t we?”

The six of them fell silent again. None dared disturb the moment. Because sometimes, silence is the only way not to shatter something beautiful as it blooms.

On the far side of the bed, Heero lifted a hand ever so slightly, brushing aside a loose strand of golden hair from Relena’s lips. He tucked it gently behind her ear, movements softer than the wind. Relena stiffened but didn’t pull away. She only looked at him, clear eyes shimmering like spring water, and smiled, small and quiet.

On the sofa, Duo buried his head in his hands, groaning in a voice thick with emotion: “…One bowl of ramen won’t cut it anymore, Quatre…”

Quatre pressed his lips together, patting Duo’s shoulder with the seriousness of a man sealing a pact: “I understand… I’ll buy you the full set.”

Hilde covered her face, barely holding back an audible aaahhh. And so, in that hospital room, six unwilling witnesses continued watching the wordless film unfolding. hearts pounding, sugar levels skyrocketing while the two leads remained utterly unaware of the chaos they were causing. And then Relena lowered her head slightly, cheeks still dusted pink from his earlier words. For a moment, her shoulders trembled but it wasn’t the shake of retreat or confusion. It was courage.

For the first time, she didn’t turn away. Instead, she leaned in closer. Her voice, barely above the hum of the air conditioner, yet clear enough to carve into hearts:

“…Then… if I said ‘we’re not’… what would you do?”

Heero didn’t answer immediately. His hand tightened on the bedframe, as if to hold the moment still. Then he leaned down slowly, low enough that their breaths mingled low enough that the remaining space between them no longer existed.

“…Then I’ll make it real.”

The words weren’t loud but the sugar level in the room surged another fifty percent. In the corner, six people froze like they’d been sliced by an invisible blade.

Duo clutched the armrest, jaw dropped but mute, Hilde blushed crimson, hugging her fruit bag like a talisman. Dorothy’s eyes gleamed, a critic savoring a once–in–a–lifetime reel. Trowa’s mouth curved slightly, a rare reaction reserved only for events that exceeded every prediction. Quatre covered his lips, eyes soft, as if beholding a painting he treasured. Wufei coughed, turning his head but his ears betrayed him, red enough to see without looking.

No one remembered that their “original purpose” was a hospital visit.

Because in that moment, only one undeniable fact remained: Heero Yuy was launching a full–frontal assault with pure emotion.

Duo hissed through clenched teeth, voice shaking but low enough for only the corner group:

“…A ramen set with tempura and marinated egg… still feels cheap… compared to this.”

No one disagreed.

By the bed, in the fading light of afternoon, two silhouettes leaned close enough to erase all distance. A scene so breathtaking the six could only sit, silent audience members, applauding in their hearts. And at the center Heero and Relena kept speaking in voices meant only for each other, as though, in this world, nothing else existed worth their attention.

When the clock on the wall struck 5:30, the group finally rose to their feet. No one said it aloud, but their glances toward the hospital bed all carried the same silent agreement: this moment belonged to its rightful owners.

Duo was the last to leave. With his arms folded across his chest, he tilted his head toward Heero and murmured—so faint it sounded almost like a blessing:

“…Don’t let my sacrifice go to waste.”

Heero didn’t reply. A single cold glance was enough to make Duo snap upright and bolt after the others before a second threat could be issued.

The door closed softly behind them. The room instantly grew quiet—so quiet that even the hum of the air conditioner sounded like a gentle sigh. Relena remained seated on the bed, the book she’d been holding open for some time still unread. Heero had drawn his chair closer, close enough that his presence felt solid in the air, yet he remained utterly silent.

Only after she was sure no one else lingered did Relena reopen to the first page, her fingertip brushing lightly over the printed lines.

…Finally, peace.

Heero leaned back against his chair, eyes never leaving her profile bathed in the glow of the setting sun. The silence that spread between them was not the fragile stillness of a hospital ward, but something deeper, an unshakable calm born after weathering a storm.

Relena turned a page, lips curving faintly. Whether it was the words on the paper or the warmth of being watched so quietly beside her, she herself could not tell. Heero’s palm rested against the bedrail, his fingertips grazing the edge of the blanket where she sat. Too close to be called “distant,” yet still careful enough not to bind her. The book in Relena’s hands trembled slightly. She drew in a small breath. Then, as if already used to his wordless presence, she tilted her head toward him and offered a delicate smile.

Heero answered with a slow, gentle nod, silent words carried in that motion: I’m here. Keep reading.

Outside the window, the sky deepened into amber. The rustle of magnolia leaves drifted through the air, like an accompaniment to a scene that required no dialogue. Relena continued to read, and Heero… simply stayed by her side, guarding the silence as though it were his own.

Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the hospital room seemed to shrink into a small, hushed corner where time moved cautiously, unwilling to disturb the girl turning her pages. She sat near the edge of the bed, a thin blanket across her lap, the heavy book resting idly on her knees. Her eyes, weary yet patient, traced the words as though clinging to each moment of wakefulness before sleep inevitably won.

Heero remained still in the chair beside her. Arms folded, back against the chair, his gaze never wavered. He didn’t need to look at the book to know what she read; he had grown so accustomed to her that he could sense when she paused from fatigue, or when a line made her quietly smile.

Strands of her pale-gold hair slipped forward as she nodded drowsily, eyelids drooping shut before fluttering open again. The third time, Heero leaned forward.

Without warning, without sound only a motion slow and deliberate, as if even silence deserved caution, his hand extended. His fingertips brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. The touch was lighter than a passing breeze, carrying no force, only presence.

Relena startled faintly, eyes opening wide for a beat before softening again. Not in surprise, but in a way that suggested the gesture was already… familiar. Heero said nothing. His gaze stayed steady, deep, and uncharacteristically tender. Slowly, his hand withdrew, leaving only a fading warmth across her brow. She looked at him for a long moment, as if imprinting the image in memory, before smiling a serene smile that seemed to soften even the walls of the room. The book slid slightly from her lap, and this time, when her head drifted onto Heero’s shoulder, he did not move away.

A feather-light weight rested against him.

Relena no longer resisted sleep. The book slipped free without her notice as her body leaned toward him with a natural, unconscious trust. Heero remained still. For a fleeting moment, his chest trembled with an unfamiliar rhythm quiet but so deep it stole his breath.

“…I once thought… keeping distance was enough to protect her.”

It was a rule he had repeated to himself for years: someone forged in the shadows of the world should never come too close especially not to someone like Relena. But now, with her face peaceful against his shoulder, her breath brushing softly against his jacket, Heero realized that this feeling was nothing like “something forbidden.”

On the contrary it was as though the entire world had stilled into a tranquility he had never known until now.

“…If it’s for her, then even if I must change… I will.”

He looked down at Relena, her honey-colored hair rising and falling gently with her breathing. He recalled the early days, when he had always kept exactly three steps away. No closer but also no farther. That distance was gone now erased until only a single, fragile touch remained. And strangely… he no longer wished to retreat.

Heero tilted his head slightly, allowing her hair to rest more securely against him. His hand slid lower along the bedrail, coming to rest beside hers. Not touching just there, like a vow.

Outside, the last magnolia petals drifted down in the amber dusk. The wariness within Heero’s chest had quieted, replaced by a thought clearer and heavier than steel:

If the day comes when she can no longer walk on her own…
…then I will walk with her—rather than stand behind.

The thought settled, followed by another deep, unshakable beat within his chest, a vow unspoken yet absolute. And if anyone dared… to reach for her with ill intent. To hurt her again…

Heero’s fingers curled slightly, his gaze darkening—not from coldness, but from something far stronger, far deeper.

…Then I will take her away.
Anywhere—so long as no one can touch her again.

It was not a rash impulse born of anger. It was quiet, steady, immovable like the way his shoulders now supported her sleeping weight. Relena’s breathing evened out, soft as a muted refrain. Amidst that fragile calm, Heero closed his eyes, letting the fleeting moment of peace seep beneath his skin like something precious something he no longer wished to lose.

The last rays of twilight tilted through the window, draping them in a thin, amber light.

Heero lowered his gaze, allowing a strand of her hair to brush against his cheek, branding the feeling deep within before the next storm arrived.

Until then… I will stay.
And I will protect her with everything I have.

--------------------------------

It was already late at night.

Behind the Peacecraft mansion, where only a faint glow of yellow light spilled from the study’s tall windows, the small garden lay still as though time itself had stopped moving. On the second–floor balcony, the faint click of a lighter echoed in the breeze. The brief spark reflected against the face of a middle–aged man in a dark gray shirt.

Vice Peacecraft leaned against the marble railing, a cigarette half–burnt between his fingers, though he hadn’t taken a single drag.

“I think… it’s already chosen its bearer.” His voice was hoarse, almost like a whisper meant only for the night.

From behind came another, deeper voice and unhurried: “You’re certain of that?”

Odin stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his expression as stern and immovable as a mountain of stone. Vice didn’t turn. He only let a dry smile curl faintly at his lips.

“You know her as well as I do. No tutor ever lasted past three lessons… except him. And now she sleeps soundly when he stays by her side while I’m the one left locked outside.”

He paused there, swallowing down a bitterness tinged with the helplessness of a father who wielded power over nations, yet remained an outsider to the one chamber called his daughter’s heart.

“And that boy…” Vice continued, his eyes never leaving the faint silhouette cast against the window’s golden glow.

“The way he looks at Relena…”

This time, he turned to Odin, his tone lower, more deliberate.

“…It’s the gaze of someone who won’t allow anyone else to step closer.”

Odin’s brow furrowed. “And when did you first notice that?”

Vice exhaled a short laugh, holding the cigarette up though he never lit it, his words laced with a faint edge of irony.

“There was one time I teased him… said perhaps I’d need to replace her tutor since Relena could be… far too stubborn. The moment the words left my mouth, he turned back to look at me…”

His eyes narrowed, recalling that instant.

“…and it was the look of someone who had just seen me touch something utterly forbidden.”

Silence lingered. Odin said nothing, his gaze deepening under the faint glow from the study window. A breeze drifted past, carrying the delicate scent of magnolia something Odin had long grown familiar with, ever since the days when little Relena used to hide behind the shrubs after every piano lesson.

“…That boy” Odin finally spoke, his voice quiet but heavy with conviction “never shows emotion unless absolutely necessary.”

Arms folded, the edge of his lips curved into something too faint to be called a smile more like a silent acknowledgment.

“And yet… just one of your jokes was enough to make him react as though you’d trespassed on his most private ground.”

Vice’s mouth curved faintly as well. “Exactly. I didn’t need anything more to understand.”

The two men fell silent. Yet in that very silence lay an unspoken understanding, one that could only exist between those who had walked battlefields and knew what it meant when a heart had truly made its choice.

High above, the stars flickered faintly. The night wind stirred the grass in the garden below.

Milliardo stepped onto the balcony, a jacket draped loosely over one arm. He had heard the last fragments of their exchange. For a few seconds, he said nothing only stood quietly, eyes drifting to the distant city, where a single hospital window still glimmered against the night.

“…If anyone dares harm Relena” he said at last, slow and low “they’d best remember they’re not just facing Heero… but the entire Peacecraft family.”

Odin’s gaze shifted, meeting Milliardo’s. For a heartbeat, those deep blue pupils reflected something weightier than his usual vigilance.

He gave a small nod, as if speaking to himself. “…And if it happens again…”

His words halted briefly, his brow creasing before his voice sank lower.

“…I fear that boy… will truly take her away. Not just from the hospital… but from everything that ties her to us.”

Vice said nothing. Only his fingers tightened around the unlit cigarette, his expression dimmed in the weak light. No trace of jest remained only the heavy air of a father stripped of distance and diplomacy. Milliardo lowered his gaze to the stone tiles underfoot. His eyes, sharper than usual, held a cold gleam. Yet when he finally spoke, it was with quiet resolve:

“Then… we’d better make sure it never comes to that.”

Odin did not reply. Instead, his eyes drifted far off to the city lights where the hospital window flickered, a small yet unyielding beacon within the vast night.

The three men stood together in silence, but the weight of that silence was stronger than any treaty they could have signed.

The night wind swept past, carrying the scent of magnolias blooming late. And in the distance, that lone window still glowed softly, blurred in the dark, yet steadfast. A fragile point of peace, one that all three men, each in their own way would guard at any cost.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Peacecraft Academy basked in a soft, golden glow. Willow branches bent gracefully in the breeze, their shadows swaying across the courtyard. Instead of gathering in the cafeteria as usual, the group chose a quiet corner in the western garden, an out-of-the-way spot where few students ever lingered at noon.

The reason was… far too obvious.

Each of them carried a tray from the cafeteria, setting it neatly on the square stone table. Trowa shrugged lightly then pulled out a plastic bag filled with sandwiches and fruit he had “borrowed” from the dining hall, arranging them in the center as though curating a small, colorful feast. Duo, as restless as ever, yanked his jacket up over half his face, grumbling like a provoked cat. Wufei bit into an apple with his usual detached calm, his gaze as sharp and frosty as always. Dorothy rested her chin on one hand, eyes glimmering as though she were enjoying the opening act of some long-awaited play, while Hilde stood a step away, still clutching her tray without setting it down.

The moment Duo lowered his own tray, a group of POLIS girls passed by, whispering excitedly:

“There’s Quatre!”
“And Duo Maxwell, too! Heero’s probably around here somewhere, right?”
“Where’s Relena? Someone said he’s been spotted with her…”

Duo narrowed his eyes, glaring at them. His expression tightened, irritation flickering across his face before he pulled his collar higher and growled again like a cornered cat.

“See?! What did I tell you? If we’d stayed in the cafeteria, we’d have turned into… the live news channel for Heero and Relena!”

Wufei calmly took another decisive bite of his apple, chewing slowly. His voice, deep and firm, broke the air with measured weight.

“You think I’d tolerate being asked ‘Did the ice block take the day off to babysit the princess?’ one more time?”

Trowa balanced his tray on his knees and began taking sandwiches one by one, almost ceremoniously, all while observing the group with quiet precision. After a thoughtful bite, he exhaled and spoke in a subdued tone, his words carrying a trace of agreement.

“Yesterday, a Robotics team from STEM asked me if Heero had been hacked… since he’d vanished from their classes.”

Quatre chuckled, amusement glimmering in his eyes. He placed his tray down, brushing his fingers lightly over the bread on the table.

“Not surprising. He just disappears from every class and leaves behind one single note ‘authorized by the chairwoman.’ Who wouldn’t be curious?”

Dorothy tilted her chin toward the distant lake, lips curling into a wry smile. The gleam in her eyes reflected the light like an audience savoring a play’s climax.

“Understandable, really. A top student suddenly switching to full-time bodyguard mode? Even I’d wonder.”

Hilde finally lowered her tray, fingers tense, eyes darting from one friend to the next as if taking careful mental notes. When she spoke, her voice was timid yet sincere.

“But… it is pretty curious.”

Duo sighed, pulling one knee up onto the bench and staring down at his food to avoid the stares from nearby groups. His face was a picture of sulking annoyance.

“Exactly. We’re not students anymore, we’re unpaid PR staff. Walk five steps and it’s, ‘Where’s Heero? Where’s Relena?’ Like the two of them are our school mascots or something.”

Quatre laughed softly, drumming his fingers against the stone tabletop.

“When you think about it… they kind of are.”

Wufei frowned, lowering his apple onto the tray with disapproval.

“Quatre. Don’t encourage this madness.”

Trowa took another measured bite of his sandwich, eyes closed, head tilted in thought. The calm on his face didn’t quite hide the faint spark of amusement.

Then Duo slapped his thigh with a loud smack, grinning for once.

“EXACTLY! At least out here nobody asks me if the ‘walking ice block finally melted today!’”

The entire group burst into laughter, their voices carrying gently through the quiet garden. A breeze stirred the willows, bringing the faint scent of damp wood and blossoms, mingling with the freshness of sliced fruit.

Six friends sat around a modest stone table, trading sandwiches and fruit, their smiles and glances weaving together a moment that felt simple yet vivid. For once, they weren’t “the audience of someone else’s love story” but just students sharing lunch in a quiet corner of campus.

And yet, buried in every heart was a single, unspoken question:

What exactly had Heero said to Relena today, while she was reading…?

That of course was an episode reserved only for the two of them.

Quatre set down his fork, resting an elbow on the stone as a gentle smile curved across his lips, as if a reel of old film had begun playing in his memory.

“Ah… Dorothy, Hilde. Have you ever heard the story of the first time we actually met Relena?”

Dorothy tilted her head, lips twitching with intrigue. Hilde glanced up nervously, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

“Wasn’t it… at the library?” she asked softly, almost excited.

“You told me once Relena was waiting for Heero, but you hadn’t really met yet.”

Quatre nodded, nostalgia brightening his features.

“Right. That time we only saw her. She sat alone at a table, three enormous books stacked beside her. We hadn’t been introduced. We just… watched from a distance.”

Trowa’s gaze drifted toward the sky, recalling the scene. He lifted his teacup, taking a slow sip while the rustling leaves filled the silence.

“But the official meeting…” Quatre continued, voice slowing with memory

“...was entirely different. A sweltering afternoon at the start of summer so hot sweat trickled down our necks. We were sitting here in the western garden, only with ice cream in hand instead of trays.”

Wufei tore a piece of meat from his lunch, chewing before muttering with his usual edge “Hardly a training environment.” Yet faint amusement flickered in his eyes.

Duo jumped in, excitement sparking as he leaned forward.

“And then we saw him. Heero …walking not alone, but alongside a blonde girl in POLIS uniform, heading straight toward us. I swear, every move he made was sharp, controlled, like he was ready to react to anything!”

Hilde gasped, clutching her cup, eyes shining.

“Really…? And you knew right away it was Relena?”

Quatre nodded, smiling.

“Of course. The moment we saw her, there was no mistaking it Relena Darlian Peacecraft.”

Trowa folded his arms, staring into the air as if replaying the scene.

“The strangest part was… Heero didn’t say a word. He simply brought her over, stood there, and let us face her.”

Quatre laughed, eyes glinting.

“But Relena was gracious. She smiled, bowed politely, greeted each of us by name like she’d done her homework. We were stunned, frozen, not understanding what was happening.”

Wufei exhaled, leaning an elbow on the table, his gaze still cold.

“And that man…” he muttered “…just pulled up a chair for her. Silent.”

Hilde couldn’t restrain her wonder.

“But… Heero didn’t say anything else? He just stood there?”

Duo waved his hands dramatically, reenacting the memory.

“Not a single word! He sat right next to Relena like a guard on duty. One leg stretched out, arms crossed behind him… just stationed there. I swear, watching him then, I finally understood why people call him the ‘mobile iceberg.’ Except he wasn’t careless at all, he was precise, deliberate, like he was always braced for the unexpected.”

Trowa’s lips curved faintly as he sipped his tea.

“That moment… we couldn’t believe it. Heero Yuy, the coldest of us, presenting Princess Peacecraft as if… it was nothing.”

Quatre nodded eagerly, eyes alive with thrill.

“Exactly. We were shocked, dumbfounded. It felt like the start of a movie and we were the unwilling audience.”

Dorothy chuckled quietly, eyes gleaming. “How very Heero.”

Hilde bit her lip, clutching her cup tightly, as though holding onto the vision in her head.

“Unbelievable…”

Duo broke in again, arms flailing.

“But the funniest part? The very first thing I ever said to Relena was something stupid. I cracked some joke about politics in class and she immediately corrected me. The entire STEM division looked ready to execute me on the spot!”

Quatre laughed, while Trowa allowed himself a rare smirk.

“And Heero…” Trowa added “just smiled. Cold, but satisfied. As if saying ‘Let him learn his lesson.’ ”

Wufei leaned his chin into his hand, sighing.

“That day… it was equal parts shocking and infuriating. Especially thanks to Duo.”

Duo let out a weary sigh, scratching his cheek in faint embarrassment yet still forcing a grin.

“I only said, ‘But if Peacecraft implements that policy… then surely…’ and she cut me off right away ‘Duo, you should understand the context before making remarks. This isn’t the time for empty theory.’ I went dead silent after that, while the entire STEM division looked like they wanted to toss me straight into the lotus pond…”

Quatre and Trowa chuckled softly, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. Hilde, however, hugged her cup tightly, her gaze shining with a mix of surprise and admiration.

Resting his chin on one hand, Duo sighed again, his voice colored with wry humor.

“I swear… if anyone had said back then ‘Heero’s dating the princess’ I’d have punched them straight into that pond. But now…”

He tilted his head back toward the summer sky, lips curling into a faint smile.

“…I think that day was only the opening scene of the film.”

No one spoke. A gentle breeze whispered through the willow branches above, their rustle like a round of subtle applause reminding them of the very first moment in a story they’d already been caught up in for far too long.

Quatre drew a long breath, his tone slower now, shaded with reflection.

“What impressed me most… was learning later that Peacecraft’s huge investment in medical robotics came largely from Relena’s proposal. She wasn’t just a pampered heiress. She had vision, reason and the resolve to turn ideas into reality.”

Trowa took a quiet sip of tea, eyes narrowing slightly as though etching every word into memory.

“So even back then, Relena was already that thoughtful.”

Wufei bit into a piece of meat, shrugged, and muttered flatly

“Graceful yet incisive… remarkable.”

Duo leaned on his hand, exhaling in mock defeat.

“I honestly thought she was just some sweet princess that day. Who knew there was fire sharp intelligence and resolve burning behind that smile.”

Dorothy’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes shimmering with admiration.

“Which only proves… not just Heero but all of us have to admit she really is different.”

Hilde clasped her cup more firmly, awe flickering across her face.

“She’s not just beautiful… she actually thinks about the future.”

The breeze swept through again, willow branches above rustling in rhythm like a subtle score accompanying the memories, recalling not only their first encounter but also the lasting impression Relena left in each of them.

Quatre set his fork down on the tray, resting one elbow on the table. His gaze glimmered with curiosity.

“Dorothy, do you know anything about the first time Heero became Relena’s tutor?”

Dorothy shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Relena used to tell me everything how she scared away tutors in less than three sessions, the little tricks she played to get rid of them. But after Heero arrived… she never said a word.”

Quatre’s lips curved thoughtfully, his eyes deep with quiet realization.

“Which means… she was drawn in from the very start. Not by perfection or power… but something else something quiet, yet deeply compelling.”

Hilde’s eyes widened, her fingers tightening around the cup.

“Really…? From that moment?”

Trowa took a measured sip, silent for a while before shrugging slightly.

“If that’s true… then their connection didn’t just begin with the later lessons.”

Duo leaned sideways, grinning faintly—half in jest, half in earnest.

“Come on… we’re just guessing. But looking back, sometimes Heero acted like… he simply couldn’t take his eyes off her.”

Wufei finished chewing and nodded slowly.

“Agreed. The way he watched her, the way he guarded her… that went far beyond a tutor’s duty.”

Dorothy’s smile sharpened, her gaze glinting with both curiosity and amusement.

“So in the end… perhaps it all began with a single glance planting the seed for everything that followed.”

--------------2 weeks later-------------

Two quiet weeks slipped by.

The wound that had once kept the doctors on edge through sleepless nights was now sealed completely, as though it had never existed. Each check-up came back with reports so optimistic they sounded unreal: “healing faster than predicted”, “physique above average”, “no risk of complications.” 

Relena could already step down from her hospital bed unaided, walking the long corridor on steady legs, cautious yet resolute. Someone even joked that if the medical field ever needed to redefine the concept of recovery, she would be the reason.

Only one condition remained, a gentle warning: “no sudden movements, and under no circumstances should the muscles beneath the scapula bear strain.”

Heero listened to it all in silence. Not out of apathy but because every word the doctors said merely confirmed what he had already known. There are truths that need no repetition.

That night, as the season’s first chill crept through the rows of trees outside the hospital and brushed the air with a faint hint of winter, he closed the patient logbook, slipped into his jacket and quietly left the pale building under the lamplight.

He followed the familiar road back to the modest house in the city alone where he and his father had lived for years. It was never luxurious, yet its stillness gave the impression of a space too wide almost excessive. No decorations lined the long hallway only the soft glow of lights falling on the worn wooden steps, creaking with the same sound he had heard since childhood.

At the top of the stairs, Heero saw Odin leaning by a window, his tall frame bathed in muted gold. Neither spoke. For a moment, only the faint rustle of wind through the bars filled the hall. Then Odin tilted his head slightly, his voice low:

“Come in.”

No questions were asked. Heero followed, wordless, as though he had expected this summons all along.

At the very end of the hall, the wooden door opened onto a room known only to the two of them. Small, heavy with the scent of aged timber and cold steel, its air pressed down on the lungs, urging silence by instinct alone.

On the desk by the wall, a black case lay open. Odin kept his gaze lowered, his tone calm deliberate as though announcing an inevitable fact.

“By year’s end… you’ll be eighteen.”

Heero gave a faint nod, almost reflexive. He asked no questions. In his eyes, the stillness he carried seemed to thin, stretching into an unnameable space.

From the case, Odin drew a handgun. The black metal glinted faintly in the yellow light overhead. He pressed it firmly into Heero’s palm with no hesitation, no second thoughts.

“This…” His words were clear, deliberate. “…you only use when you truly understand what you’re doing.”

It was not a warning, nor an order, nor even an expectation. It was trust, placed at the right time into the right hands requiring no further explanation.

Odin turned and left. The door shut with a soft, decisive click, his footsteps fading without a trace.

Heero stood alone in the dim room, gripping the weapon. The cold metal seeped into his skin, its weight settling like an undeniable truth.

In the light catching the gun’s surface, a shard of brightness flickered across his eye. Memory returned like the slash of a knife: the sterile white corridor echoing with frantic footsteps; the slender figure sprawled against the floor, golden hair spilling into a dark crimson pool like a flower blooming and withering beneath a winter rain.

His fingers tightened against the grip, trembling not from fear, but from a force far stronger, unnamed yet absolute.

Not obsession. Reminder.

A quiet, steady breath escaped him. No vow was needed. Holding this gun was already declaration enough.

The light reflecting off the grip formed a faint halo just like the sunset that day, when Relena’s hair brushed against his cheek. If the world, in all its ugliness and chaos, ever reached for her again—whether beneath the gentlest dusk or the deepest night Heero would be the one to pull the trigger first.

Not because he sought to fight the world. But because, among all the uncertainties in his life… she was the only one he refused to see harmed.

Heero remained there long after the door had closed. The gun no longer felt cold in his hand, yet its weight never faded. Carefully he set it down on the desk, slow and deliberate, as though laying down something that defied words. Under the pale glow of the lamp, the faint glimmer of metal seemed fragile, almost fleeting. He realized he had been standing too long in silence, even his breathing slower than usual.

Crossing to the narrow window, he looked out. The sky had deepened fully into night, streaks of light spilling from distant streets where trees swayed gently in the late-season wind. The stillness was so complete, it felt as if the entire city had stepped back.

No anxiety stirred in him. What rose instead was different: the certainty of a boundary crossed quietly, decisively.

Heero pulled out his phone. The screen lit his features, his eyes darker, deeper. Without hesitation, his fingers moved.

“Tomorrow.”

Only one word, almost meaningless to anyone else. But to him, it carried enough weight to anchor a decision.

He hit send.

The message was marked: Sent to myself.

It wasn’t just a reminder. It was confirmation, irreversible: from this moment on, he would no longer stand apart from anything involving her. Relena was not some distant figure, not a fragile dream to touch and release. She was the girl who had once lain on the cold stone floor, her golden hair drowned in blood until he could barely breathe. To recall it even once more made his hand clench tight, driven by an instinct simple, brutal, absolute there would not be a second time.

Whatever tomorrow brought, whatever the world chose to raise against her, Heero Yuy’s answer would come from this very gun.

Far down the hall, Odin walked on without looking back. The warm light stretched into a long band beneath his steps, yet his palm still carried the ghostly chill of the metal he had passed to his son.

He had been preparing Heero quietly since the boy was far too young to grasp the weight of those wordless drills in the backyard—replica guns, mock targets, maps of wars long over. All to teach him what most children never needed: how to stay calm when faced with the brutal reality of the world.

But Odin knew well the line between skill and choice.

Until now, the training had always been within limits. Heero could hit any target, dismantle a weapon blindfolded but they were only replicas, only simulations. It wasn’t until Odin saw his son seated at Relena’s bedside, body still, yet fingertips trembling ever so slightly that he realized the boy had stepped into a place no model could reach. That was why, tonight, he unlocked the drawer long left untouched. Not to force him forward, but because Heero had already crossed that threshold on his own.

Odin paused by the hall window. Outside, the night was absolute. A car passed, casting a streak of light against the wall before vanishing. He recalled his son’s eyes when the gun was placed in his hands no confusion, no fear. Only one thing burned there:

“If the world dares lay a hand on that girl again… I’ll fire first.”

Odin exhaled, long and deep. No father wishes to see his child walk this path. But if it must be taken, then at least Heero would step onto it by his own will not in passivity, not in fear.

And because Odin had seen what no one else could:

The boy once thought cold and unfeeling… had finally found someone he could not afford to lose.

Chapter Text

Heero stepped out of the room, his hand still clutching the wooden box that held the gun. No sound echoed beneath his feet, and yet every step felt unbearably heavy like he had unknowingly crossed a line behind that door, one he could never return from. The hallway he had walked through countless times suddenly seemed longer, emptier, carrying a silence that could not be named.

Heero pushed open the door to his room and set the box gently on the desk, as though any louder movement might shatter the fragile stillness clinging to the house. He didn’t open it again. He just stood there, staring at it as if gazing at something that had quietly unraveled the familiar order of his life.

Memories surfaced without warning slow, suffocating. The soft glow of sunset brushing against golden hair, the hazy look in her eyes under a whitewashed corridor, and that faint, aching weight in his chest that made every breath burn.

Odin’s words lingered, clear and unsettling in their simplicity:

“Only use it when you truly understand what you’re doing.”

Heero closed his eyes. He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing and even more clearly, who he was doing it for.

He lay down on his bed. Outwardly, it looked no different from any other night. Yet his eyes stayed open, unmoving. The ceiling above was swallowed in a pale shade of darkness. In that cold stillness, his breaths stretched long and deep not from exhaustion, but from something smoldering quietly inside his chest.

He tried closing his eyes, and at once the image surged forward.

Relena, lying in a pool of blood that hadn’t even dried. Steel beams collapsed over her small frame, leaving her nearly unrecognizable in that moment. He remembered too vividly the way he had rushed to her, his clothes and knees slamming against the stone floor. The first thing his eyes caught was golden hair spilling across the ground like crushed petals, lips trembling with a breath so faint it seemed ready to vanish into the air.

He remembered holding her in his arms, blood seeping between his fingers. The first thing he felt wasn’t fear but a freezing chill racing down his spine, as if one second too late would have meant his entire world collapsing beyond repair.

His hand clenched unconsciously against the blanket, knuckles whitening.

He had once believed himself stronger than fear. But in that instant when Relena’s eyes fluttered open only to close again in his arms, Heero understood that there are moments, single fragile moments, that can change the rest of a lifetime.

And because of that… tomorrow, no matter what happened, he would not allow anyone not even the world itself to lay a hand on her again.

Morning came.

Soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, draping a thin glow over the room that had remained unchanged for years. Heero opened his eyes without the need of an alarm. Sleep had steadied his body just enough, though it hadn’t washed away the images haunting his mind from the night before.

Calm as ever, he sat up and walked to the desk. The wooden box opened with a quiet click. For a few seconds, he simply stood still, staring at the grip of the gun, as though confirming once more the choice already made. There was no trace of hesitation in his gaze.

From a drawer, he pulled out a white cloth. Carefully, he wrapped the weapon, layer after layer, as though it were something fragile, something that might break under the weight of sound itself. When the last fold fell into place, he placed it deep inside his backpack.

Then came the books, notebooks, pens, each one stacked neatly on top, edges straightened with deliberate care. To any eye, it was nothing but the ordinary belongings of a student heading to class. Nothing at all suggested what was hidden beneath.

He zipped the bag shut and slung it over his shoulder, pausing only to register the new weight pressing against his back.

Only a faint breath slipped from his lips.

And then Heero walked out the door. This time he wasn’t going to school as an outsider.

The morning courtyard shimmered under the gentle warmth of early sunlight, leaves swaying lightly in the breeze. Footsteps and chatter blended into a lively rhythm.

Heero passed through the gate, his navy STEM jacket layered neatly over a white button-up shirt. His black sneakers struck the stone pavement with steady, unshaken steps. In an instant, the air seemed to shift.

Dozens of eyes turned toward the main gate where someone they hadn’t expected to see so soon strode coldly into the school grounds as though he had never been gone at all.

“No way… that’s Yuy?”
“He actually came back…?”

The whispers spread, not loud, but thick with awe and unease like a figure from rumor had suddenly returned to reality.

Near the flowerbeds at the center, the STEM group was already gathered: Duo, arms crossed, chatting with Wufei, Trowa leaning against the railing, Quatre unscrewing the lid of his tea flask, Hilde standing a little apart, catching the ripple of voices and glancing back.

The moment Heero appeared, they all fell silent.

Duo was the first to gape, disbelief written all over his face.

“Yo Heero?! You actually showed up? Thought I was seeing things….”

Heero walked up and stopped before them. His eyes were cold, but not distant simply calm, steady, like nothing around him could shake his center.

Duo threw an arm around Trowa and stuck his tongue out playfully:

“Somebody get a camera, this is historic! Heero ‘the hibernating bear’ resurrects right in the schoolyard!”

Even Quatre couldn’t hide his small smile. “Good morning, Heero.”

Heero gave a faint nod. They were used to his silence, his refusal to take Duo’s teasing too seriously. But today, in his eyes, there was something different. Clearer. Firmer.

Wufei let out a sharp breath, tilting his head in a subtle greeting. Trowa answered with nothing more than a quiet glance, as though Heero’s return had always been inevitable.

And Hilde—standing just behind Quatre—tightened her grip on her notebook. She realized, in that very moment, that amid the morning clamor, the boy walking toward them carried an aura that seemed to draw the whole world into silence.

Heero’s gaze swept across the courtyard, quick but deliberate—affirming something he had already known within.

This morning… he had truly returned.

His eyes shifted briefly toward the glass library at the south end of campus, where shadows of trees spilled across the stone tiles. A memory flickered Relena seated by the window, golden hair draped softly over her shoulders, afternoon sunlight streaming through the glass, bathing her in a glow so serene it made the rest of the world fade away.

And then though he had braced himself for it, the courtyard stirred.

A sleek car marked with the Peacecraft emblem rolled to a stop at the front gate.

The door opened, and Relena stepped out first. Her POLIS uniform was immaculate as always, collar smoothed, golden hair brushed forward just enough to cover the injury on her back that hadn’t fully healed.

Dorothy walked beside her in her ECON jacket, calm stride and faint smile drawing gazes just as easily.

The schoolyard trembled like a hive struck awake.

“Lady Peacecraft…!”
“She really came back…”

Dozens of whispers swelled but Relena didn’t flinch. Her steps were steady, her gaze forward, her presence quiet yet unshaken as though the accident had left no trace at all.

By the flowerbeds, the group had been standing there from the start. Not waiting, not exactly but it was as if each of them had chosen that spot naturally, just to look toward the gate.

Though Duo had just been laughing and chatting with Wufei moments earlier, his voice faltered the instant the Peacecraft car rolled to a stop. His lips pressed together, as if the mere arrival of that vehicle carried a weight he couldn’t put into words.

Almost instinctively, Trowa and Wufei shifted slightly to either side, opening a gap in the middle of the group. No one said anything, but the gesture, unspoken as it was, left a clear path toward the gate like they were silently preparing for someone to walk straight through.

Quatre stood still, both hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He hadn’t spoken once, his gaze fixed on the school gate as though he had known exactly when this moment would arrive. It wasn’t worry, not quite, but in his calm composure there was a solemnity, something quiet, like respect for a presence that had crossed the boundary of the personal.

Hilde kept a measured distance beside Quatre, her hand tightening unconsciously around the strap of her bag. Even though she had been told that Lady Peacecraft would be returning this morning, she hadn’t expected the entire courtyard to react so strongly. It felt as though the world itself had shifted with the appearance of a single person.

At that moment Hilde glanced sideways and saw Heero. He was still standing there, back straight, eyes unwavering on the path ahead. Yet his hand gripped the strap of his backpack a little tighter.

It was a small motion, so small it could have been overlooked. But in the atmosphere that was slowing, with all other sounds fading into the distance, that single action stood out with suffocating clarity.

Relena was drawing nearer, Dorothy at her side. Her footsteps were steady as always, but the instant her eyes found the familiar group waiting ahead, her pace faltered ever so slightly.

Heero did not look away. He stood tall, eyes fixed on her. In that fleeting moment, though no one spoke, it was as if the entire space had been stripped down to the quiet rhythm of two breaths, two people looking at one another, while all noise was pushed far away.

When only a few steps remained, Relena paused. Not out of hesitation, but as though to merge herself with the gentle breath of morning. Her eyes swept across each of them in turn: Duo, hiding his unease behind a crooked grin, Wufei, head tilted, hands clasped behind his back as though concealing his concern; Trowa, face impassive but gaze unwavering, Quatre, a slight nod, calm and steady as if everything had unfolded exactly as it should, Hilde, stiff for only a moment before bowing lightly in greeting and Heero still unmoving, eyes so deep and composed she could hardly look away.

Relena smiled. A soft smile not dazzling, but enough to bridge the distance between them in an instant.

“Good morning.” Her voice was gentle, clear, yet carried an unmistakable certainty.

“I made you all worry… I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Duo blinked, then immediately burst back into his usual lively laugh.

“Well, you should know we’ve been looking forward to this morning more than any math test.”

Wufei gave a short huff, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.

“As long as you don’t cause another incident that sends us rushing to the hospital mid-class.”

Trowa said nothing, simply inclined his head in silent greeting. Quatre took half a step forward, his voice warm and sincere.

“Welcome back, Relena. It’s good to see you well.”

Hilde added softly, a little hesitant but earnest all the same.

“I’m really glad you’re back…”

Relena looked at them one by one, her smile never fading, before her gaze finally settled on Heero. No words were needed. A quiet look, as if greeting him alone.

Heero looked back. He didn’t smile, nor did he speak. But in his eyes, the usual stillness had softened, barely perceptible like a tension easing, if only for that single moment.

Relena dipped her head slightly, as if she had received his answer then stepped forward to stand among them.

The morning breeze brushed through the courtyard, and the surrounding clamor slowly returned but this time, carrying a warmth, as though after a long wait, everything had finally slipped back into place.

Relena had just begun to linger with the group when Heero moved. Without a word, he extended his hand toward her. The gesture was simple, unshowy in that instant, the world around them seemed to freeze.

Relena’s eyes widened in surprise. Heero so rarely took the initiative… especially not before the entire school. But he held his hand out, steady, no impatience in his expression just quiet, as though waiting for something that had already been decided the night before.

Her heartbeat stumbled. She looked at his hand, then up into his calm eyes… and slowly placed her hand into his. Heero closed his fingers around hers, the pressure light, but enough to say: I’m here.

“I’ll walk you to class.” His voice was low, quiet, yet resolute.

In the next breath, the courtyard erupted.

Cries of “What?!” and “No way, seriously?!” burst out in waves. Students stopped in their tracks, some even turned full around to stare. A few girls covered their mouths, whispering. 

“They look perfect together…” while a group of boys near the stairs let out sharp whistles of disbelief.

Behind them, Dorothy raised a brow, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. She didn’t look surprised, as if she had long foreseen this moment, but her eyes gleamed with clear amusement like she had just witnessed the scene she’d been waiting weeks to see.

“Hey, quick, look Yuy… Yuy’s holding Lady Peacecraft’s hand!” one STEM girl squealed, tugging her friend’s sleeve.

From the POLIS side, a cluster of girls let out small shrieks, faces flushing red as if they’d stumbled into a scene straight out of a film.

“They’re holding hands….really holding hands!”

Two SPORTIS boys carrying a ball froze mid-step, elbowing each other with equal parts shock and envy.

On the second floor, students leaning over the railing lurched forward for a better look. A couple even scrambled for their phones, only to fumble them away when a passing teacher glared.

The whispers spread like fire across dry grass, racing through the courtyard, the hallways, around both STEM and POLIS buildings.

The only one unmoved was Heero. He held Relena’s hand firmly, walking forward as though the uproar behind them simply didn’t exist.

Duo shot upright as if electrocuted, jaw dropping.

“HUH?! WHAT—RIGHT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE, HEERO? YOU TRYING TO TURN THE RUMORS INTO A LIVE-ACTION SHOW?!”

Wufei’s brow twitched. He slammed a sharp hand on Duo’s shoulder like a chopping blow.

“Maxwell. Shut your mouth.”

Duo opened it again, but Trowa’s glance silent, unblinking was enough to choke the words back down.

Quatre kept smiling lightly, lowering his voice just enough for Duo to hear.

“Duo… if you want to have lunch in peace, I’d suggest stopping before Heero hears you.”

Duo shut his mouth instantly, shoulders sagging like a drenched dog.

Hilde glanced between them all, lips parting soundlessly, eyes wide with awe and quiet admiration.

Dorothy, walking a step behind with her usual grace, narrowed her eyes in playful amusement as she passed the group.

“Well now… looks like Heero Yuy had courage for breakfast.”

Duo gawked at her, as if she had just voiced his exact thought, but Wufei’s second glare silenced him once more.

Meanwhile, Heero and Relena continued side by side along the main path, hands still clasped. Relena dipped her head slightly toward him, leaning just enough to whisper words only he could hear.

“Are you… really okay with everyone watching like this?”

Heero didn’t look at her, but the faint shift at his brow softened his expression, something subtle only she would notice. His hand squeezed lightly.

“It’s fine. As long as you’re with me.”

Relena lowered her gaze, her cheeks warming with a pink flush she couldn’t contain. Her steps in that moment… felt lighter than ever.

And under countless eyes watching from afar, the two of them walked quietly toward the POLIS building like the only footsteps on that stone path belonged to them alone.

Near the entrance, Heero’s pace slowed. Relena stopped with him, her hand loosening as though holding on to the last bit of warmth before letting go. She turned, facing him under the soft morning light, her eyes steady and gentle.

“I’ll head in first.”

Her voice was soft but clear, like a promise silently understood.

Heero looked at her for a long moment, his gaze quiet but deep enough to make her heart falter. No words passed between them, but that silence carried every answer. He gave a small nod.

Relena smiled—a tender smile, sincere enough to soften the air around them. Her fingers slipped from his palm, but she lingered just a beat longer, ensuring he was truly fine before stepping away.

Heero remained still. And in his eyes, Relena saw a rare calm not his usual guarded silence, but a quiet acceptance, something settled at last.

Only then did she turn toward the steps. Her golden hair swayed with each movement, her bag swinging gently at her side. She placed her hand on the glass door, hesitated for just a heartbeat, then glanced back—catching Heero’s gaze still following her.

Their eyes met. No words were exchanged, but in that look was both a morning greeting and an unspoken promise.

Relena gave a small nod I’ll see you later and slipped inside the POLIS building.

Dorothy had already turned off toward ECON. The courtyard behind them fell quiet. The STEM group had dispersed toward their own building, Duo glancing back several times until Wufei dragged him around the last corner.

Only Heero remained.

He stood for a few seconds before the now-closed door, imprinting the image somewhere deep inside. At last, he drew in a breath, turned, and walked away. His back was straight, his steps steady. The heaviness he had carried seemed lighter now like from the moment Relena placed her hand in his, something within him had finally fallen into place.

This morning… truly was different.

Heero returned to the STEM building as the hallways grew crowded. His footsteps were even and quiet, no faster or slower than usual, as if what had just happened in the courtyard was simply another natural part of the day.

He slid open the classroom door, moved straight to his desk by the window. Without a word, he set down his backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out his notebook. Pages flipped calmly beneath his fingers, pen poised neatly at the first line. He began to write, as though nothing at all had happened.

And yet, the classroom was not as ordinary as it seemed. A few classmates across the row leaned toward each other, whispering, careful not to let him hear.

“They really are… dating, huh?”

“God, the way Yuy held her hand… that’s as public as it gets…”

Hilde, seated in front beside Duo, turned just enough to catch sight of him. The image was the same as always—the aloof boy unmoved by gossip but she couldn’t help but smile faintly. To those who didn’t know better, his composure might seem indifferent… but she had seen the way he had held Relena’s hand moments earlier, with a gentleness that had silenced the entire courtyard.

Trowa rested an elbow on his desk, book open, face unreadable but his gaze flicked discreetly toward Heero all the same. Quatre had already settled into his seat, arranging his notes with the ease of someone who had expected all of this. Wufei leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the board, lips pressed into a cool, flat line.

Duo, of course, couldn’t tolerate the silence. He leaned forward, arm raised like he was about to deliver some grand proclamation.

“Hey Heero, are you actually…”

Before he could finish, a cold water bottle was shoved straight into his mouth from behind.

Duo choked, eyes bulging, half from surprise, half from nearly drowning. Wufei pulled his hand back wordlessly, expression unchanging.

“Shut up. One more word and I’ll shove my entire lunch down your throat.”

Trowa didn’t turn, but the corner of his eye curved, as if suppressing a laugh. Quatre cleared his throat softly half to cover a chuckle, half to warn Duo once more.

Duo looked around, betrayed, but in the end had no choice but to gulp down the rest of the water, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Heero never lifted his head. The only difference from any other morning was this: the first stroke of his pen across the page today… no longer trembled the way it had last night.

Chapter Text

The POLIS building stood at the northern edge of campus, nestled between STEM and ECON. Morning light slanted through the glass dome above, casting long ribbons of brilliance across the white-tiled hallway.

Relena walked along the first-floor corridor. Her steps were steady, not rushed, carrying with them an air of someone returning to the place she had always belonged. Students from POLIS passing by faltered briefly when they saw her. Some offered nothing more than a nod; others gave her a clearer smile, sometimes accompanied by a hushed murmur:

“Peacecraft really has come back…”

“She looks fine…”

Relena answered each glance with a nod or a gentle smile. She didn’t seek attention, but she didn’t shy away from it either. Perhaps that was why the initial stir settled so quickly, as if everyone quietly accepted that she had indeed returned calm, resolute, and entirely herself.

Near her classroom, she paused. Adjusting the strap of her bag, she drew in a steady breath before pushing open the door.

The room for morning political theory was as quiet as always. A few students had already taken their seats, reviewing notes. Heads lifted the moment she entered. No one raised their voice, but a chain of silent greetings, subtle nods, faint smiles passed between them, like an unspoken welcome among those who understood each other well.

Relena dipped her head in return and made her way to her seat by the window. She set her bag aside, opened her notebook, and instead of writing immediately, let her gaze drift outside.

From here, she could see part of the STEM building to the right, its bricks still bathed in the soft light of morning. She didn’t linger, only smiled faintly, her eyes softening as if the warmth of a hand that had just held hers still lingered in her memory.

A quiet breath left her lips. Then Relena picked up her pen and began writing. Her first lesson since coming back yet it felt as if nothing had ever been interrupted.

The professor entered on time. The heavy leather case dropped onto the desk, and the faint shuffling of pages and pens instantly faded into silence. He stood at the podium, his gaze sweeping over the room as usual—until his eyes landed on the seat by the window.

“Peacecraft.” His voice was steady, not harsh, but carrying a note of weight that only those long familiar with him would notice.

“It is good to have you back.”

The class grew even quieter. Not because they were surprised, but because everyone recognized the rare trace of concern in his words, something almost never shown by this stern professor.

Relena rose, bowed lightly, her eyes calm.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best not to miss another lecture.”

A few students behind her smiled or nodded instinctively. And just like that, the atmosphere shifted back into its familiar rhythm. The professor opened his notes and began the morning’s lecture on pre-war diplomacy, his deep voice resonating evenly with each slide that advanced.

Relena sat, her hand moving swiftly across the page as she took notes. Even with her head lowered, her composure radiated reassurance as though her return hadn’t disturbed the current of her path in the slightest.

Every so often, a classmate would glance at her not with curiosity, but as if to confirm that she was truly here, safe, and that everything had quietly returned to its rightful place. Each time, Relena answered with a small nod, a smile so light it softened the air around her.

The lesson flowed on in that focused calm. The professor’s voice, the scratching of pens, the golden light spilling across the windowsill it all spoke not of a “return” but of a journey that had never truly stopped.

And as she turned to a fresh page in her notebook, Relena remembered the hand that had clasped hers in the courtyard. A thought surfaced, warm and quiet:

I don’t have to walk alone anymore.

------------------------

The STEM class unfolded with its familiar rhythm: the digital board filled with formulas, the rustle of pages turning, the teacher tapping lightly on the desk whenever she wished to emphasize a hypothesis. The room was so silent that the scratch of pen on paper could be clearly heard.

Heero sat by the window, his face angled slightly toward his notebook. He wrote line by line with calm precision, missing nothing from the lecture. From the outside, he looked no different than usual: serene, steady, unaffected by anything around him.

Yet those nearby noticed a subtle change. The faint tension in his shoulders had vanished, the unconscious pauses between lines gone. Today, his writing was seamless, every stroke firm and flowing, as though he had finally found his rhythm again.

Duo, temporarily subdued after being silenced with a water bottle, sat cross-armed staring out the window, sneaking glances sideways, clearly waiting for his chance to speak again. Trowa focused on his tablet’s design model, though his eyes occasionally flicked toward Heero, like a quiet observer of a rare phenomenon. Wufei was absorbed in the lesson, pretending Duo didn’t exist and that everything was perfectly ordinary. Hilde rested her chin on her hand, her eyes on her notebook, though her lips curved faintly now and then, as if recalling this morning’s scene still brought astonishment softened with warmth.

The period passed in relative silence. When the teacher paused to switch to exercises, whispers began among the groups. Duo immediately leaned toward Heero, voice low but his expression hard to restrain.

“Hey… come on. At least give us a warning, yeah? Doing something like that my heart…”

“Overexcited hearts risk strokes.” Wufei cut in coldly, not even glancing up from his book.

“…” Duo froze, silenced a second time, hand halfway up to argue when Trowa calmly plucked the stylus from his grip, reminding him that this was not the place to cause trouble.

Quatre smiled gently, placing a hand on Duo’s shoulder.

“Let’s just be glad for Heero… don’t turn his morning into chaos.”

Heero said nothing. He capped his pen, eyes skimming the assignments on the digital board. Only for a moment, as Duo muttered above him, he paused and let out a faint exhale uncertain if from resignation or… ease.

Unspoken, but understood by all: today, Heero had truly returned.

The lunch bell rang, and a low hum rippled through the class: chairs scraping, books shutting, small groups bursting into chatter. Amid it all, Heero simply closed the pen resting on his page with a decisive snap, as if signaling the opening of a new part of the day.

He packed swiftly, every motion precise: notebooks stacked neatly, pen slipped into the bag’s small pocket, zipper pulled shut in one smooth stroke. Without a glance at anyone, he shouldered his bag and walked straight out while others were still rising from their seats.

Duo normally first to bolt for the door could only gape after his retreating figure and mutter under his breath:

“…No need to guess where he’s headed.”

There was no irritation in his tone, only the helplessness of someone who knew too well the path the other had chosen.

Quatre packed with his usual calm, though the faint curve at his lips betrayed him.

“Better to let them go.” he said softly, as if stating a simple truth.

Wufei rose soundlessly, brushed his sleeve, and crossed his arms, voice low but firm.

“At least today, he knows where to begin from the right place.”

Trowa closed his tablet, slipped a hand into his pocket, and glanced briefly at the door. He said nothing, but the quiet gleam in his eyes carried rare approval.

Hilde lingered a moment longer, mind replaying the morning: the quiet boy who had so firmly taken that hand, so firmly no one could look away. She tilted her head slightly as if confirming she had truly seen it.

Duo sighed, arms crossed, feigning irritation though his eyes betrayed excitement.

“Seriously… it’s barely noon and they’re already throwing romance in our faces. How are us single people supposed to survive?”

As expected, the remark lasted barely three seconds.

“Say another word and you’ll be eating lunch in the infirmary.” Wufei’s icy voice cut in without turning back.

Duo fell silent. Not from fear but because for the first time he realized the threat was entirely real.

Down the hallway, the dark-blue STEM jacket stood out against pale noon light. Heero’s stride was steady, upright, each step purposeful, as though mapped out the moment the bell rang.

None of them followed. Not because they didn’t want to but because they didn’t need to. The unspoken thought lingered in every mind: today, Heero would not eat in the STEM cafeteria.

He crossed the corridor, sunlight spilling through wide windows, without ever looking back. No hesitation in his eyes, no wasted steps.

Moments later, his figure turned north toward POLIS where someone still sat writing at her desk by an open window.

Though unspoken, all knew: today’s lunch was not just a meal. It was an answer placed in her palm since morning.

At the edge of the POLIS building, Heero walked calmly, his coat brushing shadows of trees along the path. Unlike the bustle of STEM, this corridor was quiet, filled only with faint voices from distant classrooms or light footsteps on polished stone.

He knew the way by heart.

Stopping a few steps from Relena’s classroom, he leaned against the window rail, one hand slipped in his pocket, the other loosely holding his bag strap. Sunlight from the side window fell across his back, stretching his shadow long across the floor steady, calm, unshakable.

A few POLIS students passing by stopped instinctively. The dark-blue STEM coat stood out against their white-and-blue uniforms. Some only glanced before moving on, but others whispered:

“A STEM student?”

“No… if a STEM student is waiting here, it can only be Heero Yuy.”

Their voices were hushed but tinged with awe. The name was too familiar across the academy. Heero did not react. He stood silently, eyes fixed on the half-closed door, filtering out all noise, leaving only a still, delicate silence.

The hall clock ticked softly, marking midday. Heero waited patiently, as if time slowed a fraction to hold its breath for what was about to happen. He knew just a little longer and Relena would step out.

The door clicked open. Relena emerged first, her hand holding her bag strap, shoulders loosening after back-to-back classes. She hadn’t looked up yet but felt his gaze steady, calm, unmistakably on her.

Heero lifted his head the instant the door opened. His eyes met her small figure, her blond hair swaying with her steps. Almost simultaneously, he moved toward her.

The moment seemed suspended. All other voices faded like distant wind. Only two remained: one just leaving class, one who had been waiting quietly.

“You… how long have you been here?” Relena asked softly, her voice warm with surprise.

Heero stopped in front of her, close enough that their breaths were untouched by the hallway’s noise. His gaze steady, he answered: 

“Not long. I was waiting for you.”

Relena lowered her eyes slightly, a gentle smile curving her lips. Sunlight traced her features, softening her smile even more.

Heero reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek: small, subtle, yet in the noon light it dissolved the space between them into pure closeness.

“It’s lunchtime.” he said, voice low and sure.

Relena looked up and nodded lightly. “Then… let’s go.”

The quiet stares from the hall faded into nothing as Heero stepped beside her. The world narrowed to the path leading toward the small garden behind POLIS, their familiar route after class.

He didn’t take her hand as he had that morning in the courtyard. But when their shoulders brushed, their steps falling perfectly in sync, it was somehow more intimate than handholding an invisible bond linking two souls.

They walked side by side, footsteps soft against the stone floor, sunlight streaming through glass panes. Relena leaned slightly toward him whenever students passed; Heero, in turn, tilted just enough toward her, quietly shielding her.

At the stairwell, they descended toward the back garden. The glass door opened, letting in a breeze laced with grass and leaves. Relena narrowed her eyes against it.

The stone path to the southern garden lay as calm as ever, oak leaves drifting down onto green grass. At its end stood a light iron arbor built during the spring festival, beneath it a round stone table gleaming under gentle sunlight.

On it, a tray of food and two cups of water were already set prepared with simple care, meant for “special students” needing no explanation.

Around the arbor, white roses bloomed at each corner, their fragrance blending softly with the noon air. Petals caught the golden light, turning the garden into a realm of quiet brightness, secluded from the outside bustle.

Relena paused at the sight, not in surprise but in quiet warmth filling her chest.

Heero stepped ahead, pulled out a stone chair for her with natural ease, as if he had done so many times before. She sat, glancing up as he took the seat opposite. Smiling faintly, she asked softly:

“You… prepared this beforehand?”

His eyes steady, though softened slightly, he replied:

“I only wanted you to have a quiet lunch.”

Relena lowered her gaze, nodding, lashes casting shadows tinged faintly pink. The wind stirred the roses, scattering petals across the table. She caught one on her wrist, smiling faintly, a silent gratitude deeper than words.

In a normal noon, within the vast academy, only two remained under the sunlit arbor, roses whispering beside them, sharing the quiet they had long awaited.

Two simple trays sat before them, yet in the hush of the arbor, they felt intimately close. Heero watched Relena with quiet focus every tilt of her head, every subtle breath around her gestures.

She smiled lightly without words, accustomed to his habits, and soothed by the rhythm of it.

Heero placed a bit of food onto her plate, the gesture subtle yet filled with care.
“You don’t have to…” she began, but her voice faded no explanation was needed.

He said nothing, only nodded slightly, his gaze speaking more clearly: I know.

Relena murmured a soft “Thank you.” barely audible before continuing to eat.

Their meal passed in silence, each small action amplified by the stillness. Heero added vegetables to her plate, she answered with a faint smile. No words were needed, the gestures spoke.

Sunlight filtered through the arbor, shining across white roses, turning two simple meals into symbols of peace, a noon where the world outside dissolved away.

In the STEM cafeteria, noise swelled as always at lunchtime. The smell of food filled the air, chairs scraped, laughter echoed. At a window-side table, Duo, Trowa, Wufei, Quatre, and Hilde sat with their trays.

Duo raised his chopsticks, but a passing group of students whispered excitedly:

“Hey, I heard Heero Yuy went straight to POLIS when the bell rang.”

“Really?! Not just watching from afar, he stood right outside Peacecraft’s classroom.”

“That’s not all. POLIS students said they saw the two of them head to the southern garden. Eating lunch under the white rose arbor…”

Duo froze mid-bite, eyes wide as if struck by lightning.

“Wait—the rose garden already?! How are they leveling up this fast?!”

Wufei didn’t look up, eating calmly, voice sharp:

“Keep silent and eat. The more you talk, the slower your digestion.”

Hilde flushed faintly but couldn’t hide her smile at the phrase “white rose arbor.” Quatre set down his spoon, outwardly calm, though his eyes drifted toward the window, the path to POLIS. Trowa said nothing, quietly accepting the truth.

Duo, however, could not stay quiet.

“Did you all hear that?! The white rose arbor! Are they trying to finish a romance novel in one day?!”

Quatre pushed a glass of water toward him, calm as ever.

“Drink, before your blood pressure spikes.”

Duo groaned, clutching his head, yet couldn’t help laughing.

“Fine… if it’s Heero, I guess… he couldn’t avoid it much longer.”

Wufei only grunted softly, which for him was agreement.

Outside, sunlight poured onto the path to POLIS. None spoke, but all five knew: this morning was not just an incident, it was a turning point, long overdue.

The afternoon passed in the STEM robotics lab, filled with the scent of oil, plastic, and circuitry. Motors hummed, screws clicked, robotic arms whirred, footsteps echoed among the workbenches.

When the teacher announced groups of three, the room buzzed. Heero glanced at the list, then quietly moved to Quatre and Trowa’s table. Without words, a nod was enough. The three worked in silent efficiency, every motion precise, as though long accustomed to moving in sync. Circuits, components and controllers all were handled with meticulous care, no misstep.

Nearby, Hilde, Duo, and Wufei formed another group. Duo opened his mouth, ready with chatter, when Wufei stuffed a leftover bread roll from lunch straight into it. Duo flailed, muffled into silence.

Hilde stifled laughter, her gaze sliding to Heero’s group, their calm focus striking her with both strangeness and admiration. Quatre and Trowa exchanged faint smiles, their quiet glance silencing Duo further.

All day, Duo hadn’t managed a single disruption. Each attempt was swiftly blocked by Wufei’s sternness, Trowa’s quiet interception, or Quatre’s subtle interventions. He was left exasperated, but laughing nonetheless.

Heero sat focused on a circuit board, Quatre handing him a tool, murmuring,

“Are the sensors ready?”

Trowa nodded. “Stable. You can mount the controller.”

Heero gave a brief nod, hands moving steadily. Their teamwork formed a rhythm of its own amid the lab’s noise.

Duo twitched, tempted to tease, but Hilde’s sharp warning cut in:

“Duo, if you want to mess around, fix your own robot first.”

He sank back, grumbling, glancing sideways in envy.

Around them, whispers stirred:

“Heero’s five-member group has been the standout since their first year.”

“And now there’s Hilde—sharp as well.”

But within the group, time slowed into quiet concentration: Heero’s focus, Quatre and Trowa’s smooth rhythm, Hilde’s keen observations, Wufei’s vigilance. Together they formed a quiet, unspoken harmony.

Motors whirred, screws turned, laughter echoed but around Heero’s team, everything flowed with calm cohesion, a silent rhythm binding them.

Today’s lab was not only technical practice but an unspoken performance, a demonstration of their perfect cooperation, now with Hilde as a new piece of the puzzle leaving the STEM floor buzzing with admiration and curiosity.