𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗧𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗿 [ʀᴡʙʏ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴏᴄ]

Chapter 44

The first thing I noticed was the light—soft and golden, filtering through the small window of the bunker and casting a warm glow across the room. The second thing I noticed was Weiss. She was still curled up against me, her head resting on my chest and her fingers tangled in the fabric of my shirt. Her breathing was slow and even, her face relaxed in a way I hadn't seen in a long time.

For a moment, I just lay there, savoring the quiet and the warmth of her against me. The events of the previous day—the escape, the confrontation with Ironwood, the late-night conversation—felt like a distant memory, replaced by the simple comfort of being together.

But then the reality of the day ahead came crashing back, and I sighed, my fingers brushing against Weiss's arm. "Weiss," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's morning."

She stirred, her nose wrinkling slightly as she blinked awake. Her blue eyes were hazy with sleep, and for a moment, she just stared at me, her expression soft and unguarded. Then she smiled—a small, sleepy smile that made my chest tighten.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

I grinned, my hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Sleep well?"

She nodded, her fingers tightening around my shirt. "Better than I have in a long time."

My chest warmed at her words, and I pulled her closer, my arms wrapping around her in a tight hug. "Good. You deserve it."

She didn't say anything for a long moment, her face buried in my chest. Then she sighed, her breath warm against my skin, and pulled back, her expression turning serious. "We should probably get up," she said, her tone reluctant but firm. "We've got a mission to prepare for."

I nodded, though I didn't want to let her go just yet. "Yeah. You're right."

We untangled ourselves slowly, the warmth of the moment lingering even as we climbed down from the bunk and started getting ready for the day. Weiss grabbed her clothes from the small pile she'd left by the ladder, and I couldn't help but notice that she was still wearing my T-shirt, the fabric hanging off her frame in a way that was both endearing and oddly intimate.

"You know," I said, my tone teasing as I pulled on my boots, "you can keep that shirt if you want."

She glanced down at the T-shirt, her cheeks flushing slightly, but she didn't argue. Instead, she smiled—a small, genuine smile that lit up her face. "Thanks," she said, her voice soft. "I think I will."

The clock on the wall clicked to 0900, and the low hum of the airship's engines filled the hangar. The sleek, Atlesian vessel was ready, its autopilot system engaged and its course set for Anima. Weiss and I stood at the base of the ramp, our bags slung over our shoulders and our weapons at our sides. The weight of the mission ahead was heavy, but there was a sense of determination in the air—a quiet resolve that we were doing the right thing.

Ironwood approached, his boots clicking against the hangar floor, his expression stern but not unkind. He stopped a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back as he studied us with that sharp, calculating gaze of his.

"The ship is ready," he said, his voice firm but with a hint of something softer underneath. "Autopilot is engaged, and the course is set. You'll reach Anima in a few hours, assuming no complications."

With that, he stepped back, his hands clasped behind his back once more as he watched us board the ship. Weiss and I exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between us, and then we turned and walked up the ramp, the hum of the engines growing louder with each step.

The interior of the ship was sleek and utilitarian, the walls lined with monitors and control panels. Weiss took the co-pilot's seat, her fingers flying over the controls as she double-checked the autopilot system. I stood behind her, my arms crossed over my chest as I watched the hangar doors slowly open, revealing the bright, snow-covered landscape of Atlas beyond.