Orusea was a chaotic, war-torn world outside of the Bureau's jurisdiction. A pce where the lines between enemies and friends could become murky. It was indeed a perfect pce for enterprising and daring soldiers of fortune seeking a lucrative career in interstelr mercenary work, desperate fugitives hoping to lose themselves among the chaos and bloodshed, or anyone wishing to die.

  But this man before her was none of those.

  He'd been a librarian, an archaeologist...and someone she knew. Looked up to. The one who brought her mother into the world of magic and taught her daughter the virtues of patience and good organization. Of the strange worlds and mundane lives found in books, lighting the fire of a lifelong passion.

  Not someone with the unmistakable eyes of someone who had taken at least one life and was prepared to take more, needed or not. Not someone who had seen horrors that left a mark on the mind and soul.

  Not someone who looked at her like she was nothing more than a stranger.

  The man standing before her was no ghost, no illusion of her concussed mind.

  Yuuno Scrya was very much real.

  But not the one she remembered.

  His duster coat was a faded sandy-brown and frayed at the ends, patched where the cost of battles had marred it. Underneath, she could see a dark, military-style tunic and a pair of sturdy leather pants, both well-worn. On his hip was, no doubt, a mass weapon, as was the one slung over his shoulder.

  But most disturbing of all were the burn marks on the right side of his face. His features used to be so soft and warm, not ravaged by pain and hardship.

  After years of her parents trying to find out what had happened, barely able to remember the st time they actually talked—the person who'd once been a close friend, if not one of the closest, of her mother was now a hardened soldier.

  It was wrong. So utterly wrong.

  But then he smiled, a glimpse of the Yuuno she knew, and said, "So you came to. Good."

  There was a certain roughness to his voice that hadn't been there before, but there was also relief, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

  She couldn't help but return the smile, even if the one on his face had long since faded.

  "Thanks...Yuuno-san," she spoke the name with hesitance, unsure of how he'd react.

  Yuuno Scrya nodded, but the way he said his next words made her feel small. "You're welcome."

  There was no way he could've forgotten about her.

  So why was he so curt? So cold?

  "Lie down and keep your head still. Don't worry about your device. I just deactivated it for now." He walked to the doorway.

  She finally took in her surroundings. A rundown apartment, its walls cracked and stained. A generator hummed weakly in the corner, struggling to stay alive. There was an IV stand next to the old, tattered couch she y on, its cushions thin and threadbare beneath her.

  The memory came rushing back.

  The attack. The anti-magic field. The mission gone wrong.

  She and her unit were supposed to help evacuate civilians from a neutral zone. They never expected an ambush. Never expected their magic to be cut off.

  She fought as hard as she could. She had to. After all, she’d begged her mothers to let her take this mission. She’d promised she could handle herself.

  And now she was here.

  Alone.

  He turned back to her. "I don't know what happened to the rest of your team. But there were no bodies." His voice was level and clinical. "That means they were captured, not killed. Barrier jackets provide significant protection, after all."

  Her breath hitched. "Then—"

  "I only had time to save you." He didn't apologize for it. "The Bureau will realize something's wrong soon enough. Whether they do anything about it is another matter," he exhaled slowly. "This is Orusea, after all. But I imagine your mothers will have something to say about that."

  He didn't say their names—Nanoha-mama. Fate-mama. Auntie Hayate. Uncle Chrono. He didn't say anything about the fact that he had once known them or everything they did together, things they grew up together with.

  It was like the Yuuno Scrya who stood before her now had always been here, and the librarian she knew was a fabrication of her own memories.

  He turned back to her, a flicker of something in his eyes. "Rest up. You'll be fine, but that explosion did leave a concussion. But don't worry about your enemies for now. This is a safe house."

  He paused, closing his eyes.

  "Well, I imagine it's not like your home in Midchilda. But it's a pce to recover."

  Her lips moved, but the words caught in her throat.

  What should she say?

  What could she say?

  Her mouth opened and closed, yet the words she wanted to speak remained trapped.

  "I'll be back," he said. "You're hungry, right?"

  She didn't respond.

  He sighed and shrugged before stepping outside and closing the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  Her body ached. Her head throbbed. But the emptiness inside her chest felt worse.

  She wanted to call out to him, to say everything she couldn’t find the words for. But all that remained was silence.

  ***

  She didn't know how long she had been out.

  When she woke up again, her headache was gone, and Chris was floating above her. The device pointed to a tray of food set on a table. It had bread and a can of what seemed to be stew, if the packaging was any indication.

  "Chris! So Yuuno-san has activated you!"

  The device nodded and once again pointed at the food.

  "Yeah...but where is Yuuno-san?"

  She got her answer soon enough when a more careful look around the room revealed him in a corner, sleeping with his back against the wall. His right sleeve was rolled up, revealing fresh bandages hastily wrapped. The red staining through them told her all she needed to know—he was injured, probably from whatever fight led him to her.

  She held still, knowing how much of a light sleeper he was, but he did not stir. He did not snore. Even in slumber, he hardly seemed at ease. His lips were pursed into a grimace.

  What would her mothers say if they saw him like this? Nanoha-mama will likely be horrified, and Fate-mama, ever the worrywart, will fret. They will ask him a thousand questions and demand to know what he's been through all these years.

  A pang of longing pierced her heart.

  She remembered when he helped look after her for a few days while her parents were away. Her first impression of him was that of a very nice young man. He was also someone her mamas knew, which excited her.

  They talked a lot, he cooked for her, and they read stories together.

  Though they didn't have much time together, it was a happy memory.

  Only now did she realize how far the rift between him and his former friends had become.

  A part of her wished that she could go back to that day, back before the years of silence and distance had set in.

  Maybe—just maybe—she could still find him.

  She exhaled and reached for the tray.

  "Let's eat."

  Chris bobbed in response.

  She took a bite.

  The food was tasteless. The bread was dry, and the stew had long since lost any kind of fvor. But she forced herself to eat. Her stomach was empty, and her body needed nourishment.

  And if he made the effort to provide her with nourishment, then the least she could do was finish it.

  The IV needle in her arm had been removed, leaving a small spot of dried blood. He must've taken care of it while she was asleep.

  The food was gone in a matter of minutes. She was surprised she didn't throw up and rested back on the couch, sighing.

  Did he dream? Did he see the people he once knew and cared for?

  Carefully, she swung her legs off the couch, testing her bance. The world spun for a moment before steadying.

  "I'm fine," she whispered, shaking her head. "I just need to..."

  Her steps were light as she approached him. He hadn't moved an inch since she woke up. Even now, with her standing right in front of him, his breathing remained steady—shallow but steady.

  Her hand reached out, but his was faster, seizing her wrist. The grip was like a vise.

  Then, just as quickly, recognition dawned in his gaze. The harshness faded, but the grip remained for a moment longer before he let go, running a hand over his face.

  "Sorry. But don't do that again."

  She blinked and nodded. Her eyes stung. She could hardly bme him for the reaction, but still...

  "What's wrong?" He asked.

  She bit her lip. What could she say? That the person before her was a stranger wearing the face of a man she once knew and cared for? That he wasn't supposed to be here, fighting a war no one wanted, living a life no one asked him to live?

  He stared at her for a moment longer. He shook his head and turned his gaze to the floor.

  "Vivio."

  The sound of her name startled her.

  "What...happened to you?" she managed. "Everyone was looking for you."

  His shoulders sagged.

  "Are they?" He sounded tired. Exhausted, really. "I imagine they had given up by now. It's not good to live in the past, after all."

  Her heart lurched. It was true, but only because the leads had run dry and were few and far between, to begin with. But that didn't mean he was no longer in their thoughts.

  "What happened?" She asked, her voice softer. "Please tell me. Nanoha-mama and Fate-mama—"

  "Tell me. They are happy, aren't they?"

  She didn't miss the wistful note in his voice. "Yes. They are."

  And indeed, they were. Her mothers were still together. But sometimes, the way they looked at each other or the sadness in their eyes made her think that something was missing.

  "Then, there is no problem, is there?" He said, more to himself than her, or so she thought.

  She swallowed a lump in her throat, her chest burning with ache.

  "I can't understand..." She began, her voice shaking. "I don't understand. Why?"

  "And you will never. You do not need to. You have a good life. A future. If you want to keep it, do as I say. Understand?"

  She recoiled, her lips moving, her fists clenched, and she could feel her nails digging into the flesh of her palm.

  "Why are you acting like this?" she asked, hating how her voice cracked. "Why are you treating me like this?"

  He didn't answer.

  "Say something! Please!"

  He let out a dry, curt ugh. Not of mirth, but not scornful, either.

  "What are you going to do, knowing that?" he challenged.

  That gave her pause.

  What would she do, knowing that?

  Will that change anything?

  Would convincing him to come back make everything better?

  Or would it be selfish of her to think that having him back would make everything right again, like the way it used to be?

  What if her mothers got into the same argument they had just now?

  The same tension?

  Was she even prepared to hear the truth?

  Perhaps she was indeed being na?ve.

  "...I don't know."

  Her shoulders sagged. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry. I just...don't know. I thought...I wish I could reach out to people like Nanoha-mama did, but..."

  "And didn't you? Didn't you do exactly what your mother did? Bringing people together, saving your friends, and helping a lost soul find their path. Just like her."

  Her eyes widened. She looked at him, but he still had his back turned.

  "Yuuno-san?"

  "I may have been some estranged person in the corner, but I couldn't help but hear things. And I have to say, you're doing her proud."

  But why couldn't she do the same for him, then?

  Why wouldn't he allow her to?

  "Why...why can't I do the same for you, then?"

  He stiffened, his head lowered, and his hands curled into fists.

  "Yuuno-san. I want to understand....please."

  She saw his hands twitch. He unholstered the weapon on his hip and presented it to her, grip first.

  The engraved weapon reminded her of Cross Mirage. But this was no Device. It was an implement that could kill.

  "You want to understand...then, are you willing to pay the price? If so, take it."

  "Wha—"

  "Take it. Shoot someone between the eyes. Watch the light fade and feel the life leave them. Then you will understand."

  She swallowed. The idea made her stomach twist and her skin crawl. She could imagine the sensation, the weight of a life on her conscience.

  "If you truly want to understand, then take the gun. Shoot anyone who is after you, and you will understand. What it does to you. How it feels. You will never be the same again, Vivio. Never. Even if you're just trying to stay alive, that's the cost. I know. I paid the price."

  The food she just ate threatened to come back up, and bile burned the back of her throat.

  This was no longer the Yuuno-san she knew.

  The Yuuno she remembered would never suggest such a thing. He'd be horrified at the very thought.

  He soon reholstered his weapon with a heavy sigh.

  "No, I will not allow you to lose that innocence. But my point still stands. You have nothing to gain from understanding."

  Yet, in a way, he already answered her question.

  It was a terrible answer. A painful one.

  But an answer all the same.

  The st time she cried was many years ago. It was for something trivial. Something she couldn't remember now. In retrospect, it was a waste of tears.

  Now, however, her chest was tight. Her throat was sore, and the tears burned.

  It hurt.

  It hurt so much.

  "Vivio."

  Gentler this time, almost like his old self.

  She wiped the tears away, not wanting him to see her in such a state.

  "...Y-yes?"

  "I'm sorry. Let go."

  Her efforts to wipe her tears away were in vain.

  "What...?"

  "Holding on to the past. Holding onto people who aren't coming back. They aren't. And even if they did, nothing would be the same."

  His words were soft, yet she flinched as if they were a knife to her chest.

  "Yuuno-san, please stop—"

  Stop. Stop. Please.

  "Nothing will change, and I don't want you to come home hurting. You will hurt people you love and people who love you, too. Is that what you want?"

  She shook her head.

  No, that was not what she wanted.

  Not at all.

  "It...it's not easy. I know. But I also know it's the best course. So please, let me go."

  "I don't want to," she sniffed and rubbed her eyes, trying to force her breathing to return to normal.

  Defiance, maybe, even if it would be her st.

  "Vivio—"

  "I can't! I won't!" She shouted.

  Her outburst hung in the air, and she cmped her hands over her mouth.

  "I'm sorry...I'm sorry."

  The tears spilled forth, and she buried her face in her hands.

  Wasn't she supposed to be a grown-up now?

  Wasn't she supposed to be better than this?

  And yet here she was, sobbing like a child.

  The couch sank slightly. A hand came down on her shoulder.

  "Vivio."

  Not her memory resurfacing. Not her imagination.

  It was more familiar now, his voice. The rueful smile he'd first shown when he forgot to buy her snacks. But this time, it was over a far less trivial matter.

  "Vivio, I'm a soldier, no matter how much you find that hard to believe. You know what it means to be one. You know duties. You know responsibilities. That's why you're out here. I'm no different. So..."

  "So what?"

  She could no longer keep the tremor out of her voice.

  "Let me go. I'm not coming back."

  She couldn't see him, her vision blurred by her tears. But she could still make out his form standing over her.

  "Let me go."

  He wasn't coming back, was he?

  She wanted to scream.

  She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

  Tell him that it wasn't fair. He was being unfair.

  Selfish.

  A coward.

  A liar.

  "I can't," she choked. "I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't—"

  "I'm sorry, Vivio."

  "Don't...don't tell me to stop thinking about you, or...or caring. You...hurt my mamas. You hurt me. Why did you do that? Why did you cut yourself off from us? You...you had so many people who cared about you. Don't...don't tell me to pretend like the memories didn't happen."

  He sighed a low, shaky exhation.

  "I'm sorry. Tell your mamas I'm sorry."

  "Why can't you tell them yourself?!"

  For once, he was unable to answer.

  The pause was too long, too uncomfortable, too tense.

  "Why open old wounds, Vivio?"

  "It's...it's not fair!"

  "And since when was life ever fair? Life is not fair. And maybe I am being cruel, and for a time, I wrestled with it. But, if I have to choose between letting you or anyone else get hurt because of me, I will choose myself. Every time. Do you understand?"

  "Yuuno-san, please stop this—"

  "You stop this. For your own sake."

  "You can't—you can't just—"

  "I can, and I have."

  "No. You can't!"

  She felt him flinch at her sudden outburst, and he drew his hand back like she was afme.

  "No," she repeated, more quietly this time. "No. No, no, no, no. No. You can't. I don't accept this."

  She stood up, ignoring the dizziness that swept over her, and faced him.

  "I'm not going to give up on you."

  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  "Vivio."

  "You can't change my mind, Yuuno-san."

  "Enough."

  The growl in his voice silenced her.

  "Enough," he repeated. "I know. I know you can't understand, and I will not make you. But don't waste your time, Vivio. You cannot afford to stop to think of things you have no control over. You will get yourself killed."

  She swallowed, an unpleasant tingling coursing through her body. For a moment, she remembered Teana's story about being bsted by her mother, all because she allowed her frustration and stubbornness to override her common sense, and how disappointed her Nanoha-mama was.

  He had the same expression, though not for the same reason.

  He didn't raise a hand against her, and yet...

  She'd never felt so defeated before, not since her loss in the Intermiddle.

  Slowly, she turned her gaze away, then her back to him. Chris hovered into her embrace as she huddled into herself.

  "Vivio."

  She didn't respond.

  "Sorry."

  That was the st word he spoke. The only sound in the room after that was heavy footfalls and the door closing.

  Where did he go, she wondered.

  Not just now. But years ago.

  Where did he go?