Satou woke before dawn.
He lay still for a moment, listening to the familiar sounds of Lyra and Jessica breathing beside him—Lyra's deep, even rhythm against his chest, Jessica's softer exhale against his shoulder. Both were deep in sleep, exhausted from days of war followed by the ceremony, the naming, and the night they'd shared after.
He didn't want to move.
But his mind was already running.
He eased himself out carefully, few months of sharing a bed having taught him exactly how to extract himself without waking either woman. Lyra stirred slightly, her hand reaching for him in sleep before finding the warm indent he'd left in the sheets. She settled again without waking.
Satou dressed quietly and stepped outside.
