The sun beats down on Mirai Central, warm enough to warrant rolled-up sleeves but not so hot that the trendy crowd abandons their fashionable layers. I lean against the wrought iron railing outside Cloud 9 Café, watching the flow of people like a leopard observing a watering hole.

A businessman in a too-tight suit hurries past, briefcase clutched to his chest like it contains state secrets instead of spreadsheets. A group of teenagers hover near a VR station, their laughter too loud, too performative. Everyone moving with such urgency, such conviction that their little lives matter.

They don't know what I know—that gods are watching, that we're all just characters in some cosmic joke.

I check my reflection in the café window. Black jeans, a dark green button-down with the sleeves carefully folded to the elbows. Casual but put-together. The kind of outfit that says, "I made an effort without trying too hard." The [CHARMING EYES] trait subtly enhances my gaze, making the green flecks in my brown eyes more prominent.

And then I see her approaching from down the street.

Emi Aoyama, wrapped in a cream-colored sweater that drapes off one shoulder, paired with a pleated navy skirt that swings with each step. Her blue hair bounces in time with her walk, those two little antenna-like strands bobbing above her head. She's clutching her pastel backpack to her chest like a shield, her eyes darting around, searching.

Game time, Kaelen.

Her gaze finally lands on me, and the transformation is instant. Her entire face lights up like I've just offered her the world on a silver platter instead of merely existing in her line of sight. She waves, a little too enthusiastically, nearly dropping her bag in the process.

I don't wave back. Instead, I push off from the railing and meet her halfway.

"You made it," I say, as if there was ever any doubt.

"I'm not late, am I? I tried to time the trains perfectly, but there was this little kid who dropped his ice cream cone and I couldn't just walk past him crying, so I bought him a new one, and then his mom wanted to thank me, and—"

I raise my hand, stopping her ramble with a gentle gesture. "You're right on time. I was early."

Relief washes over her face. "Oh good! I hate being late. Especially for—" She catches herself, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "For study sessions."

"Shall we?" I gesture toward the café door, then move ahead to open it for her. The bell chimes cheerfully as she passes through.

Cloud 9 lives up to its name—the interior is decorated in shades of blue and white, with cloud-shaped light fixtures floating near the ceiling. It's upscale enough to impress but cozy enough to encourage lingering conversations. Perfect for what I have planned.

The hostess leads us to a small table by the window. I pull out Emi's chair before she can reach for it, earning another blush and a flustered "Thank you."

"That color looks incredible on you," I say as we settle in. "It makes your eyes really stand out."

Her hands immediately go to her cheeks. "R-really? I wasn't sure if it was too casual or—"

"It's perfect," I interrupt. "You have good taste."

The waiter arrives with menus, saving her from having to respond through her embarrassment. Her eyes widen at the prices, a small frown creasing her forehead as she scans the options.

"My treat," I say before she can voice her concern. "Consider it thanks for helping me prepare for the entrance exams."

"But I haven't helped you yet!" she protests.

I lean in slightly, lowering my voice. "Then consider it an investment in future assistance."

She laughs, the sound light and musical. "You're very confident."

"In some things." I let my gaze hold hers for a beat longer than necessary. "What looks good to you?"

We order cream puffs and tea—matcha for me, something fruity and pink for her. The café is known for its outrageous desserts, and when our order arrives, it doesn't disappoint. The cream puffs are architectural wonders, towers of pastry and filling garnished with edible flowers and gold leaf.

"These are too pretty to eat," Emi says, pulling out her phone to take a picture.

I wait, patient and amused, as she carefully frames the shot, adjusting the angle multiple times before she's satisfied. This generation and their documentation of everything.

"So," I begin once she's put her phone away, "tell me about your family's ramen shop. It must be good if it's been around for generations."

Her face brightens immediately. "Oh! Yes, it's been in our family for three generations. My grandfather started it after moving here from Tokyo, and my mom runs it now. We use all the original recipes, with a few modern twists. The tonkotsu broth simmers for twenty-four hours! You should come by sometime. I could show you how we make the noodles from scratch."

I nod, asking follow-up questions about specific dishes and techniques, filing away each nugget of information for future use. She's so eager to share, so open and unguarded. If Natalia is a fortress with walls of ice, Emi is a village with its gates flung wide, welcoming any traveler who passes by.

"And what about you?" she asks eventually, taking a bite of her cream puff. "What was your past like? I heard snippets from Natalia, but I'd like to hear it from you."

I give her the official story—mother remarried to a B-Rank Hunter, recently discovered my Aspect after years as a supposed Zero. Just enough truth to sound authentic, with key details omitted.

"That's amazing!" Her eyes shine with genuine admiration. "To manifest an Aspect so late, and such a cool one too! Fire manipulation is so versatile. I've always thought healing was kind of... basic, you know? Not flashy like the combat Aspects."

Perfect. An opening.

"Are you kidding?" I lean forward, dropping my voice as if sharing a secret. "Healers are the backbone of any successful Hunter team. When the glory hounds are bleeding out after a bad call, who saves their lives? When the mission goes sideways and everyone's panicking, who keeps a cool head? The Healer."

A small smile plays at her lips, but she still looks doubtful. "That's nice of you to say, but—"

"It's not nice, it's strategic." I tap the table for emphasis. "Listen, the world needs more people who can fix what's broken, not more people who can break stuff. Trust me, your Aspect is incredible."

She stares at me, wide-eyed, a dab of cream clinging to her lower lip. She has no idea it's there, this tiny white fleck marring her perfect pink lips. I could tell her, should tell her, but I don't. I just smile, imagining what it would be like to lean across the table and kiss it away.

She'd probably faint on the spot. Too easy, Kaelen. Too fucking easy.

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