The sky was golden that day, the kind of glow that made everything feel just a little bit softer. Riven sat on the rooftop of Black Gale HQ with a bottle of iced tea in one hand, the other shielding his eyes from the sun.
"Yo," a voice called out. "You stealing my spot again?"
Riven glanced over his shoulder with a grin. "Didn't see your name on it, Taro."
Taro grinned back as he plopped down beside him, the two sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, watching the clouds drift by.
They didn't talk much at first. They didn't need to. That was the kind of friendship they had—quiet but solid. Unshaken.
"You hear about the promotion?" Taro finally asked.
Riven nodded. "Yeah. Congrats. You deserve it."
"You could've taken it," Taro said. "You're better than me."
"I'm not stable," Riven muttered.
Taro chuckled. "Tell me something I don't know."
They both laughed.
Then silence again. But this time, heavier.
"Hey, Riven," Taro said, softer now. "Promise me something?"
"Hm?"
"Don't hold back with me. Not during our spar tomorrow. I wanna see how far we've come. Both of us."
Riven looked at him, surprised. "You sure?"
Taro nodded. "We're fighters. We grow by clashing."
Riven hesitated. Something in his chest twisted.
"Alright," he said at last. "One clean fight. No holding back."
They bumped fists.
It would be the last time.