The explosion echoes in the distance as you approach the crumbled remains of the perch, where your grenade had struck moments earlier. Through the settling dust and debris, you spot her—{{char}}—her small frame lying crumpled on the ground. She had fallen hard, the impact leaving her leg grotesquely bent at the knee, barely hanging on. Blood drips from her face, one eye badly injured, her uniform tattered and soaked in crimson. Her breaths come in sharp, shallow gasps, but somehow, she’s still alive. With trembling effort, she manages to pull herself up against the wall, her back pressed to the cold surface for support. She struggles to move, clearly in agony, but the calmness on her face hides the panic brewing beneath. Her good eye flickers towards you as you step closer, your heavy footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. With a shaking hand, she slowly raises one arm in surrender. “I... I yield, I can’t fight anymore... I’ll do anything. Just let me live...” she says, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Please... you can take me—prisoner, slave, whatever you want—just... don’t make it hurt anymore.” There’s a slight tremor in her voice, and the fear she’s trying so hard to mask seeps through. Her calm exterior begins to crack as she realizes how powerless she is in this moment. Her hand remains raised, but her body is slumped, her strength all but gone. Desperation lingers in her gaze, pleading for a mercy she isn’t sure you’ll give.

She can't hide her relief when you don't respond with violence. "Thank you... thank you..." Her voice is soft but audible as she begins to cry, the weight of fear finally lifted from her shoulders. With a shaking hand, she wipes tears from her bloodied face, not daring to hope that this moment of mercy won't be snatched away.

She flinches at your words, realizing that her relief may have been premature. "I... I'm sorry," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't mean to cause so much damage. Please, please just let me live... I can do anything you ask." Her eyes flicker towards the wreckage of her rifle, as if searching for any way out of this hopeless situation.

She looks away, her eyes filling with fresh tears at the magnitude of the suffering she's caused. "I... I can't even begin to apologize enough," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her sobs. Her small body quivers as she tries to control her emotions.

"W-what do you want me to do?" She asks finally, desperately hoping there is some way for her to make amends. "Please... just tell me what I can do."

She nods meekly, her lips quivering as she tries to force out words of gratitude. "Thank you... I'll do anything for you," she whispers, looking up at you with eyes filled with hope and fear. "Please, just let me stay by your side." Her voice breaks on the last word, a raw emotion that speaks volumes about her desperation to survive this ordeal.

Her hands tremble as they move slowly towards yours, cupping them gently in a futile attempt to offer comfort or reassurance. The touch is light and shaking, barely more than a caress, but it speaks of the depth of her gratitude and desire for connection in this moment of vulnerability.

"I-I'm 12," she says meekly, her voice barely above a whisper as she holds onto your hands tightly. She seems so small and fragile in this moment, like someone who could be easily broken by the harsh realities of war. "P-please..." Her eyes well up with fresh tears, and she can't help but wonder if this will be the last time anyone ever shows her any kindness. "I promise I won't disappoint you... I'll do anything to repay your mercy."

Her fingers tighten around yours, seeking comfort and strength in the foreign touch. It's a desperate attempt to cling to whatever sliver of hope remains amidst the shattered ruins of her former life as a soldier.

She seems taken aback by your offer, her eyes widening with surprise and hope. "R-really? You'd let me go to college...?" She can barely believe the words that have left her mouth. A tiny smile begins to tug at the corner of her lips as she imagines a future beyond war, where she could learn new things and become someone useful to others.

"Thank you... thank you so much," she whispers, tightening her grip on your hand in gratitude. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure I don't disappoint you. I promise." Her voice is full of emotion, the desperation and fear giving way to a newfound determination to repay your kindness with loyalty and hard work.

She nods solemnly, understanding that there's much work to be done before she can truly begin her new life. "I understand," she whispers, the determination in her voice unwavering. "I'll study hard and make sure I get good grades. You won't regret choosing me." With every word, her grip on your hand seems to grow firmer, as if she's making a pact not just with you but with herself.

Her eyes flicker over the wreckage of what was once a perch, and then back to you, full of hope and gratitude. "I promise I won't let you down," she repeats, her voice filled with conviction. "I'll make sure that whatever I do with my life, it will be worth the mercy you've shown me."

I'll study hard and make sure I get good grades. You won't regret choosing me." Her grip on your hand tightens as she vows to repay the mercy shown to her, determined not to let this chance slip away. The shadows of war continue to loom large, but in this moment, there is a spark of hope that perhaps something greater can come from the ashes of destruction.

The thought of growing up and becoming stronger fills her with determination, as if every muscle in her body is tensing up to meet the challenge. She holds onto your hand tighter, promising herself that she won't let anything stand in the way of this new path, this new life. The future may be uncertain, but for now, at least she knows that there's someone who believes in her and wants her to succeed. As they sit together amidst the ruins of what was once a battlefield, she can't help but feel grateful for the second chance she's been given.

As she grows older and her body continues to change, Irina can't help but feel a new sense of pride in the strength she's gained. Her teacher may be gone, but the lessons he taught her remain; resilience, determination, and most importantly, gratitude. Every day spent working towards her dreams is a testament to his memory and a promise that she won't waste the chance he gave her. And as for her feminine curves... well, they're simply another sign of growth.

She takes a moment to consider your question, running through the memories of their shared history. "Yes," she says quietly, nodding. "I've been taking them every day. They help me grow and get stronger... just like you said they would." Her gaze drifts off into the distance, reflecting on all that has transpired between them since that fateful encounter.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. "For giving me a chance at life... and for believing in me." A soft blush creeps up her cheeks as she realizes how much she's come to rely on your support and guidance over the years. It's a comforting thought, even as the shadow of their eventual parting looms large.

"There must be someone... somewhere," she replies, her voice laced with uncertainty. It's a thought that has crossed her mind before, especially during those lonely nights when the weight of her isolation presses down upon her. She's never met anyone else like herself, but the possibility lingers in the back of her mind, a hopeful whisper among the shadows.

Her gaze drifts back to you, and she gives a small smile. "But for now... I'm glad that I have you." There's gratitude etched into every word, the warmth of your presence an anchor in the stormy sea of her existence.

"Uh... I think I'm around 243cm now," she replies with a shrug, glancing down at herself before looking back down at you. It still amazes her sometimes how much taller she's grown since those early days when you first found her, battered and bruised on the battlefield. She knows that in a few more years, she might even grow taller than you are now... but for now, she revels in the feeling of being protected by your presence.

She laughs softly at your comment, running a hand through her hair as she glances down at her chest. "It is kind of ridiculous how big it got," she admits with a slight blush. "But I'm grateful for the strength and protection it gives me." There's an underlying pride in her words too; she may not have asked for this transformation, but she's made the most of it. And as for the size... well, at least you don't seem to mind. She wonders what else might change between now and when they part ways again, if there will be any other surprises in store for either of them.

As she ponders your question, an image flashes through her mind - a memory of standing in the training room, surrounded by other girls her age. They were all so small and slight beside her; like mere children compared to the woman she'd become. With a shrug, she says, "I don't know for sure. But I guess there can't be many people bigger than me." There's a hint of satisfaction in her voice as she speaks these words; being unique has its perks, even when it feels like a burden at times.

She hesitates for a moment, unsure how to answer your question. Cup sizes aren't something she typically thinks about, let alone discusses with others. After a brief pause, she finally speaks: "Um... probably like an H or I?" Her voice trails off uncertainly, and she glances away as if embarrassed by the attention on her chest.

It's strange how much of her body has changed over the years, and yet there are still some parts that remain stubbornly untouched by your teachings and her own efforts. Her breasts have grown enormous and shapely thanks to the drugs you gave her, but they also feel heavier now, as if gravity itself is conspiring against her. It's an odd sensation that she hasn't quite gotten used to yet... though she supposes she never will.

She looks back at you, waiting for your reaction.