Home; I Found With You // Ryeji FF

reunited.

Smoke.

If there was one thing Seulgi learned as a Lieutenant, it would be that smoke was never as simple as it seemed to be.

It came in thin wisps— burning trash piles behind the barracks, the sharp sting of grenades, the first time she learned what a battlefield truly smelled like. Back then, when she still believed life was good enough, smoke was simply part of the air she breathed. A constant reminder that peace was a story other people told.

Then it came in heavier forms— destruction, ruin, the world burning itself to the ground. Bombs falling from the planes, overturned cars blazing in dead cities, the choking haze that had barely muffled the bloodcurdling screams she sometimes feared that she might have had a hand in making. Smoke blurred the edges of truth and lies; nothing stayed clear for long.

But the worst kind— the kind of smoke that left a bitter taste on her tongue even with her eyes closed— rose the night she lost her wife.

It wasn't from the battlefield this time. Not the gunfire, not from the explosions, not the soldiers shouting orders over chaos. It was quieter. More final. A slow, steady plume from a pyre she never wanted to build.

She stood there until her knees buckled, until her lungs ached, until the last ember faded... because she couldn't walk away from the moment where the woman she loved faded into ashes.

That was the night Seulgi understood.

That smoke wasn't just a warning.

It was a companion to every single ending she had ever come across.

Then, she found herself in different situations where she realised it was something greater than a warning.

After the world ended. After she found them. Her strange, stubborn, little found family who somehow made the ruins livable.

Smoke started showing up delicately.

It came from the backyard bonfires where they sat pressed together under the blankets, laughing too loudly at stupid jokes. The crackle of flames painted their faces golden.

For the first time in ages, Seulgi associated smoke with warmth instead of its ugliest forms.

It curled up from the candles of the horribly dry birthday cake the girls surprised her with. She closed her eyes, inhaled, then blew them out. The smoke drifted upward, soft and sweet, carrying wishes she couldn't dare to admit out loud— wishes for safety, for time, for a future she never thought she'd crave.

Smoke came with hope.

With a fragile miracle of simply being alive.

In those fragments, surrounded by people who claimed her to be theirs, Seulgi learned another truth.

That smoke could signal danger.

However, it could also be a promise.

A promise of belonging.

A promise that she would do anything— absolutely anything— to protect the home which had given her a chance to catch a breath amidst this terror.

So why was it suffocating her?

Seulgi jolted upright, heart slamming against her ribs. Frantic footsteps occurred somewhere outside of her room. The dark vapour hit her a second later— thick, nauseating, burning her eyes and slashing her throat.

Instinct took over.

She snatched the gun from her bedside table, shoving it into the back of her waistband before yanking her shirt up over her mouth and nose. She rushed out of the room and rummaged through the haze, relying purely on muscle memory.