They each returned to their rooms. Rest was now their only refuge.
The waiting had begun.
The White Whale was drawing near.
The epic battle loomed on the horizon.
But for now… they had to wait.
Kill time.
Guts closed his eyes.
A nap — perhaps the only thing he truly needed.
A flash.
He woke with a start. He'd slept too long.
As often after a nap, he felt... elsewhere.
His body sluggish, his thoughts dulled.
He dressed slowly, still wrapped in that strange sleep.
A need for fresh air drove him outside.
The courtyard buzzed with life.
Soldiers passed. Orders flew. The castle, tense, breathed of the war to come.
And he, lost in this place he didn't yet fully understand, walked slowly, like caught in a haze.
He was nearing the stairs when a figure appeared before him.
Crusch Karsten.
But not the one he knew.
She was no longer the duchess in cavalry boots, nor the stern-voiced commander.
That night, she was simply a woman.
No cap. No epaulets.
Her hair was loose, swayed by the breeze.
A modest yet elegant dress revealed a discreet femininity long concealed.
And Guts…
Didn't know how to react.
The sight disarmed him.
He hadn't seen it coming.
There he stood, facing a softer, distant image of the woman he'd faced just hours earlier.
He felt almost embarrassed, standing there poorly dressed and surprised.
Crusch:
"Guts… Would you walk with me for a moment?"
Guts:
"Crusch, right?"
Crusch(smiling):
"Yes. Ah, that's right… You've never seen me out of uniform."
She lowered her eyes, a little embarrassed. But she didn't look away.
He didn't answer — too still, too off balance.
Crusch:
"The breeze is cool tonight.
Perfect for sharing a drink… and watching the sky."
Guts stayed silent.
This situation — he had never imagined it.
To find himself face to face with a woman so strong, so firm… and discover a hidden tenderness, almost intimate.
He didn't know what to say.
He didn't have the words.
Guts:
"…Didn't think you had another uniform."
That was his way of breaking the silence. Adding a touch of irony.
But even he felt the words fell flat.
Too honest.
Too raw.
Crusch gave a faint smile — almost shy.
Crusch:
"There's a lot about me you haven't seen.
And I think… the same goes for you."
Guts turned his gaze away.
Uneasy.
That woman — that version of Crusch —
She was a new enigma.
Too human for him to shield himself from, like he usually did.
He felt something he didn't like feeling:
Respect, yes — but also closeness.
They walked a few minutes in silence, their steps echoing softly in the stone corridors.
They stepped out onto a side terrace — a simple resting spot lit by two hanging lanterns and a hastily set table.
A bottle. Two glasses. A still-warm tray.
Crusch sat gracefully. Not like a duchess.
Like a woman tired of always being strong.
Crusch:
"I was always taught not to show weakness.
But… lately, I wonder if that's really strength."
Guts remained standing, leaning on the railing.
The wind tugged softly at his cape.
He didn't answer.
But she didn't expect one. Not really.
She was just… asking for presence.
So he stepped forward, pulled out the chair, and sat across from her.
Crusch poured the drinks without a word.
She handed him his glass.
He took it.
Guts:
"What are we drinking to?"
She raised her glass slightly, eyes on the night.
Crusch:
"To what's left… when everything's been taken."
They clinked glasses softly. No sound but a gentle clink.
Then silence.
Not unpleasant.
Not heavy.
Just… sincere.
Crusch lowered her gaze to her glass, ran a finger along the rim.
Crusch:
"You know… if I had been born in another world… in another life…
Maybe I would've wanted to know you differently."
Guts didn't answer. He slowly looked at her.
And for once…
He smiled.