A Somber Gathering
The air was still. The battlefield had long since grown quiet, but the echoes of war still lingered in the hearts of those who survived. Emjay's team stood gathered at a secluded clearing outside their base—a place untouched by war, where the trees stood tall, their branches swaying gently with the wind. It was here that Bleaf would be laid to rest.
A simple grave had been dug, marked by a large stone. The team had spent hours carving Bleaf's name into it, making sure that his legacy would never be forgotten. His weapons, polished and laid carefully on top, shimmered in the afternoon light.
Kazuki knelt beside them, running a hand over the cold steel. He had made a decision—one that would honor Bleaf in the only way he knew how.
The team stood in silence for a long moment, letting the weight of the loss settle over them. The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves, as if nature itself was mourning alongside them. A crow cawed in the distance, and for a moment, everyone felt the sheer enormity of what had happened. Then, one by one, they stepped forward to speak.
Words of Remembrance
Emjay was the first. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable grief beneath it. "Bleaf was more than just a fighter. He was our friend. Our brother. He fought not just for himself, but for all of us. He stood on the front lines, took every hit, and never backed down—not once."
He glanced down, exhaling heavily. "I remember when he used to complain about rations, about how nothing ever tasted right. He swore that when this war was over, he'd open a restaurant. Said he'd make the best food any of us had ever had." A small, sad chuckle escaped him. "Guess we'll never get to try it now."
Yano's voice was quiet but resolute. "He saved lives. He didn't just fight to win—he fought to protect." She took a deep breath. "I remember how he'd always make sure everyone had their gear before a mission, even if it meant showing up late himself. He looked out for us."
Leon added, "He had this way of making things seem… possible. Even when things looked bad, Bleaf would just smirk and say, 'We've been through worse.' And somehow, that was enough to keep going."
Kazuki's grip on Bleaf's weapons tightened. "He left us too soon, but not before he did what he set out to do. He killed Lexa. He fought Evena with everything he had. He avenged his sister. He kept his word."
Crimson chuckled softly, shaking his head. "And he kept his promise to me, too." He looked down, his smile tinged with sadness. "I told him to stay in the game, and damn it, he did. Right until the end."
There was a pause. Then Crimson exhaled and crossed his arms. "But man, I gotta say… if Bleaf was here right now, he'd be real pissed that we're all standing around crying like this."
A small, sad laugh rippled through the team. Even in death, Bleaf had a way of making things lighter.
Crimson continued, his smirk returning. "So, in honor of him, I think we should all agree to do something ridiculous in his memory. Something stupid, something reckless… because let's face it, that's what he'd do."
Kai snorted. "Like what? Steal an enemy vehicle for a joyride?"
Crimson grinned. "Now you're thinking like Bleaf."
For a moment, it felt like he was still there—just out of reach, smirking at them from the shadows.
Passing the Torch
Kazuki, who had remained quiet after speaking, finally stepped forward again. He picked up Bleaf's weapons, holding them with the respect they deserved. "I'll take care of these," he said. "I'll use them the way he did."
The team didn't argue. They knew this was Kazuki's way of carrying on Bleaf's memory—of ensuring that a part of him would always be on the battlefield, fighting alongside them.
Crimson placed a hand on Kazuki's shoulder. "He'd want that. And honestly, if anyone's worthy of carrying them, it's you."
Kazuki nodded, his expression unreadable. But his grip on the weapons was firm.
Pride and Legacy
Emjay looked around at his team, at the people Bleaf had fought so hard to protect. "Bleaf was a warrior," he said. "He stood his ground. He gave everything. And I want us to remember that—not just today, but always."
Yano wiped her eyes. "He'd be proud of us, too."
Leon sighed. "We have to keep moving forward. That's what he would've wanted."
Crimson smirked, though his eyes still held grief. "Yeah, well, moving forward doesn't mean we forget. And it definitely doesn't mean we stop being the dysfunctional mess he fought for."
The team exchanged small smiles, nodding in quiet agreement.
As the sun began to set, they each stepped forward, one by one, placing something personal near the grave—something that represented their bond with Bleaf. A piece of cloth from an old uniform. A bullet casing. A small knife he once carried. Even something as simple as a stone, placed carefully on top of his grave.
It wasn't just a goodbye.
It was a promise.
They would remember.
They would fight.
And they would make sure Bleaf's sacrifice meant something.
The Night That Followed
That night, as the team sat around the fire, the conversation turned from sorrow to reflection.
Leon leaned forward. "What now?"
Emjay's gaze was firm. "We keep going. We fight. And we finish this war."
Yano exhaled slowly. "But how do we do that when it feels like we keep losing pieces of ourselves?"
Silence settled over them. Then, Kazuki spoke, his voice quiet but certain. "By remembering why we started."
The fire crackled, filling the space between them. It was a reminder that even in the darkness, there was light.
And so, as the embers burned, they sat together, united by grief, by memories, and by the promise that they would not let Bleaf's story end in vain.
The war wasn't over.
But neither were they.