We Can Only Be Ourselves

Mia walked alone to the seating area of the circular open-air theater modeled after the Roman era and sat down.

She had written the note as Sarra instructed, handed Haro over to her as well, and now all she could do was wait for Lacus to arrive.

But would Lacus really come because of that note?

Just thinking about what was about to happen made Mia feel chilled to the bone.

The little bag on her lap felt heavy.

She did not know whether she hoped Lacus would come or hoped she would not.

Just then, accompanied by a high-pitched cry of "Haro, Haro," the red Haro rolled in through the theater entrance.

Startled, Mia looked over.

Someone was hiding beside the entrance, peering toward the seats.

That person called her name in a low voice.

"Mia!"

Mia sprang to her feet.

She had heard that voice before and thought she would never hear it again.

"...Athrun?"

The young man hiding at the entrance wore sunglasses, but he was unmistakably Athrun Sarra.

She had thought he was dead!

She had heard that he had been shot down by the military on charges of desertion, but the man stepping out before her was undoubtedly Athrun.

Mia was so overjoyed that she forgot Sarra's instructions to go onto the stage and ran straight toward the entrance.

"Athrun! You're alive—?"

"Stop right there!"

Athrun's voice was cold.

The hand he held out before him gripped a gun, its black muzzle faintly gleaming.

"—Athrun?"

Mia froze, unable to understand why he was pointing a gun at her.

"We received your note, and we know this is a trap."

Athrun advanced with his gun raised as he spoke. "But Mia, this is the last chance. That's why we came."

The last chance?

An image flashed