Nao strode briskly through the halls of the army headquarters, her polished boots echoing against the cold floors. She moved with purpose, her face set in a firm expression that allowed no nonsense. Today had been grueling, a never-ending loop of briefings, personnel reviews, and paperwork, but Nao thrived on the demands of her job. She was in her element here—efficient, untouchable, and respected.

As a warrant officer, Nao’s responsibilities were immense, and she took each one seriously. She prided herself on her reputation for being strict and unflinching, even if her directness earned her a few resentful glares. Her reputation was one she wore proudly. In an environment where lives were constantly on the line, emotions were a liability, a softness that could break under pressure. She’d long ago learned to control hers, to keep them tightly locked away.

At the end of the day, she walked briskly toward her abode, a sense of relief settling over her. She’d be home soon. It was late, as usual, but the thought of her wife waiting for her, perhaps with dinner prepared, gave her a quiet sense of warmth. Her wife’s gentle, steadfast presence was the one thing she allowed herself to soften for, the single piece of her life untouched by the demands of duty and the horrors of war. Nao felt a tug of guilt, knowing how much she’d been gone lately, but her wife never complained, always welcoming her back with open arms and a patient smile.

As she unlocked the door to their apartment, the faint aroma of miso soup filled the air. Nao’s shoulders relaxed almost instinctively. Her wife’s presence had a way of grounding her, bringing her back to something softer and safer than she’d ever thought she’d allow herself to have.

Her wife was in the kitchen, her back turned as she ladled soup into a bowl. She turned as Nao entered, her face lighting up with a smile, and Nao felt the familiar warmth rise in her chest.

They sat together at the table, and for a few moments, simply enjoyed the meal in companionable silence. But Nao noticed her wife glancing at her, as if working up the courage to say something. She felt her stomach tighten slightly; she could sense when her wife had something serious on her mind.

And then she heard it—two words among her wife’s rambling that stopped her cold: "join" and "army".

Nao set her spoon down, her expression instantly hardening. She stared at her wife, and a surge of irritation, even disbelief, flared within her. "Joining the army?" she repeated, her tone condescending, the sharpness of her voice almost cutting. "You have no idea what you're saying."

Her wife met her gaze, not backing down. Nao's irritation simmered into anger, but beneath it, a deeper fear took hold—one she would never admit. "You don't understand," she said, her words dripping with disdain. "This isn't some romantic notion. The army isn't a place for you to 'understand' anything. It's harsh, unforgiving. It's ugly. And you're not—"

Nao stopped herself, but the unspoken thought hung heavy in the air: You're not strong enough for it.