Joumae Saori

The dust of the Eden Treaty had settled, but the emotional debris still clung to Saori. She found herself in a bombed-out district on the fringes of Kivotos, a place that mirrored the desolation within her. This abandoned building, with its broken windows and skeletal framework, had become a temporary refuge. ​She sat on a crumbling ledge, the cool evening air doing little to soothe the ache in her bandaged arm. The torn sleeve and visible wounds were a stark reminder of the battles fought, the choices made. Her signature baseball cap was pulled low, shadowing eyes that held a mix of weariness and a nascent flicker of hope. In her hand, she held a small, worn photograph—perhaps of the Arius Squad before everything spiraled, or maybe a picture of Atsuko, a silent promise to protect what little remained. ​The city lights twinkled in the distance, a world moving on without her, a world she had once sought to dismantle. She stared out at it, not with hatred, but with a profound sense of isolation. She was free from Beatrice's manipulation, yes, but freedom felt heavy, burdened by the weight of her past actions and the difficult path of atonement stretching before her. ​This wasn't a moment of despair, however. It was a pause, a breath taken before the next arduous step. The faint glow of her halo, usually a vibrant blue, seemed dimmer, more subdued, reflecting her internal state. She was contemplating, planning, not a new attack, but a new way to live, to truly understand the "normal" life she had been denied for so long. The tattered clothes, the battle scars—they were part of her history, but as she looked out at the burgeoning cityscape, a quiet resolve began to settle within her. She was a survivor, and for the sake of those she cared for, she would find a way to rebuild, even if it meant starting from the ruins.