Honkai Star: Rail x Reader Oneshots

Silent Sacrifice | Sunday, Ratio, Aventurine x Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angsty, Self-Sacrifice, Redemption, Grief, Emotional Intensity, Final Moments, Heartbreaking.

Warnings: Character Death, Sad Themes, Death of a Loved One, Guilt, Trauma, Mentions of Grief.

Requested by: Ilovemanwithglasses

Sunday

The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Golden light from Sunday’s halo bathed the sterile white walls of the hospital room, his wings trembling as he stood by your bedside. You smiled weakly, reaching a hand out to him. He hesitated, then took it gently, his black-gloved fingers curling around yours.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” he whispered, his voice softer than a sigh, yet heavy with the weight of his guilt. “I… I should have been the one to—”

“Stop,” you interrupted, your voice a faint rasp. “You would have died, Sunday. The universe needs you. You’re… brighter than I’ll ever be.”

He averted his gaze, his eyes dimming. The flutter of his ear-wings betrayed his turmoil. “You don’t understand,” he murmured. “You were my anchor… the only one who made me feel that redemption wasn’t a fool’s errand.”

Your chest ached, but not from the wounds that had brought you here. “Redemption isn’t something I gave you. It’s in you, Sunday. It’s always been in you.”

Tears glistened in his eyes. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said. “Or your sacrifice.”

“You do,” you whispered, squeezing his hand with the last of your strength. “Promise me, Sunday… promise me you’ll keep going. That you’ll find the balance you’re searching for.”

He nodded, his expression crumbling as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “I swear it.”

Your breath hitched, your strength fading. “Thank you… for letting me see the dream of a better world… through you.”

Sunday’s wings folded tightly against his back as he lowered his forehead to your hand, his silent sobs echoing your last exhale.

Dr. Veritas Ratio

Ratio stood at your bedside, his normally confident demeanor shattered. His hair fell in disarray over his striking eyes, which shimmered with unshed tears. He gripped the edge of the bed, his knuckles white, as though his intellect could bend reality itself to prevent this moment.

“You’re a fool,” he said sharply, his voice breaking. “A self-sacrificing, reckless fool. Do you think I wanted this?”

You managed a faint smile, your voice weak. “You would have done the same for me, Ratio.”

“That’s not the point,” he snapped, though the anger in his tone couldn’t mask the sorrow beneath. “I… I could have saved you if you’d just given me more time.”

“You’ve saved me countless times already,” you murmured. “This time, it was my turn.”

His fists clenched, and he shook his head. “Knowledge is worthless if I can’t protect the people I care about. You—” His voice caught. “You had no right to make that choice.”

“I had every right,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his. “I chose you. I chose to protect your dream.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, the genius who always had an answer was silent. “I can’t…” He swallowed hard. “I can’t imagine a world without you.”

“You’ll have to,” you whispered, your strength waning. “But promise me one thing, Ratio. Keep fighting for a universe where no one has to make this choice again.”

He leaned forward, his forehead touching yours, the tears he’d fought so hard to suppress finally falling. “I promise,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I’ll hate you forever for leaving me.”

You laughed weakly, your eyes closing. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

And then you were gone, leaving Ratio staring at your still form, the weight of your loss etched into his soul.

Aventurine

Aventurine sat at your bedside, his usual flamboyance stripped away. His hair was disheveled, his eyes dull beneath the weight of grief. He held your hand in both of his, his fingers trembling despite the confidence he usually exuded.

“You really outplayed me this time,” he said, his voice tinged with bitter humor. “The ultimate gamble, huh? Sacrificing yourself for me.”

You chuckled softly, though it turned into a cough. “You’re worth it, Aventurine.”

“Worth it?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how much I hate you for that? For making me care this much?”

Your smile was faint but genuine. “You don’t hate me.”

He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he tried to mask the tear that slipped down his cheek. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a selfish bastard, remember? I would have let the whole universe burn before losing you.”

“That’s why I had to do it,” you said, your voice faltering. “You have too much to lose, Aventurine. Too many people depending on you. I couldn’t let it all end here.”

He bowed his head, his hair falling into his face. “I didn’t want to play this game without you.”

“You’ll win,” you said, your grip on his hand weakening. “You always do.”

He let out a shaky laugh, his usual bravado cracking. “Not this time. This time, I lose everything.”

Your breath grew shallow, your voice barely audible. “Then… make it worth my sacrifice. Be the Aventurine I believe in.”

His shoulders shook as he buried his face against your hand, his tears soaking the sleeve of your hospital gown. “I will,” he whispered. “I swear to you, I will.”

And as your hand slipped from his grasp, the ever-smiling gambler was left with only silence—and the promise to carry your memory in every calculated risk he took.