Zura stared at the little thing on the window ledge, his hand still awkwardly halfway between finishing what he started and pretending he was just "scratching an itch." Nero—or what looked like Nero—wasn't moving, just watching him like she had all the time in the world.
"...Alright, fine. You win." He yanked the blanket over himself, muttering curses under his breath as he stood and unlatched the window. "Come in, feathered buzzkill."
The anti-bird hopped inside without hesitation, landing on his desk like she was used to it. She gave a little shake, feathers ruffling in a way that almost seemed smug.
Zura frowned, arms crossed. "You know, most birds would panic the second a human lets 'em in. You? Nah. You strut in like you've got property rights. That's not normal."
Nero tilted her head again, then pecked at a loose paper on his desk, dragging it an inch before glancing back at him.
Zura blinked. "...The hell? Are you trying to—show me something? Or are you just pecking for fun?"
The bird ignored him, hopping to the edge of the desk and flapping up to the bookshelf. She perched on the top like a queen, red eyes gleaming in the dim light.
Zura scratched his head. "...No, hold up. If you are Nero, then what's your game here? And if you're not… then what the fuck are you? Another anti-bird? A cousin? A long-lost twin?"
He paced a little, staring up at her. "I mean, I've seen her in action. She's smart as hell. Creepy smart. This one… damn, I can't even tell. Could just be a regular one and I'm losing my mind 'cause I'm tired and horny."
The bird let out a sharp caw! like she was offended.
Zura smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Figures. You do sound like Nero when you're pissed. Still doesn't confirm shit, though. For all I know, Clover's crawling with smart-ass anti-birds."
He flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling again while the little creature perched high above, silent now. "...Guess I'll find out soon enough."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was strange. Like the bird was actually listening. Watching. Waiting.
Zura lay back down, hands tucked behind his head, but his eyes kept drifting toward the top of the shelf. The anti-bird—Nero, or maybe not Nero—was still perched there, feathers fluffed out, beady red eyes unblinking. She looked less like a dumb little critter and more like… a sentinel.
Still, he didn't chase her out. The room felt strangely fuller with her there, like he wasn't completely alone in the base tonight.
The bird shifted once, talons scraping the wood lightly, then settled back down. No flapping, no pecking, no noise—just watching.
Zura sighed, eyelids heavy. "If you are Nero, and you're actually that weird-ass bird who knows too much… fine. Just don't peck my eyes out in the middle of the night."
A quiet caw answered him, soft enough to sound almost reassuring.
He chuckled under his breath, letting the sound fade as sleep pulled him under. His last thought before slipping away was that it felt like someone really was guarding him—like he wasn't entirely abandoned in this creaky old hideout.
By the time his breathing steadied and his body went limp in sleep, the bird was still there on the shelf, eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight, keeping watch.
That night, Zura had a dream, a vivid dream. He was in his world, sitting on the register as he performed his duty as a cashier. His eyes had no life. He was bored. But he worked.
Once his shift was over, he went to a restaurant where he worked as a waiter. And when that shift ended, he went home and got ready to leave for his university.
In the class, he leaned on the desk as his eyes slowly closed and he fell asleep.
The first thing Zura noticed when his eyes cracked open was the empty shelf. No flutter of wings. No beady red eyes staring down at him. Just dust and morning light.
"The hell…" He rubbed his face, half expecting the bird to swoop down from somewhere and peck him awake. Nothing. The room was quiet—too quiet.
He sat up, groggy, staring at the vacant spot. 'Did I dream that? No… she was there. I'm sure of it.' His jaw tightened as he dragged a hand through his hair. He hadn't confirmed if it was actually Nero, but he was leaning toward it. Something about the way she perched, the way she watched him… it wasn't random.
"Tch. If it was really you, Nero, why the hell didn't you just… y'know, turn into Secre or whatever?" He muttered to himself, irritation in his voice. "Would've been nice to clear this up instead of creeping on me while I was about to unload and bless this room and sheet."
The memory made his face scrunch. Of all the times for her to show up, she had to do it when his hand was busy. "Ridiculous…" he grumbled, tossing the blanket aside.
With no answers and no bird in sight, all he could do was give her the benefit of the doubt. 'It was Nero. Had to be.' Why else would some random anti-bird wander in and sit there like a damned bodyguard?
Still, the question lingered. Why was she here? And why like this—quiet, hiding her true self, instead of showing her face?
Zura groaned, gave up on thinking too hard this early, and staggered toward the washroom. He took a long piss, shoulders slumping, then shuffled into the kitchen corner to piece together a basic breakfast. Some bread, a bit of butter, and water—nothing fancy, but enough to wake him up.
While chewing. 'You better not make this a habit, Nero. Showing up whenever you feel like it, leaving whenever… without giving me a damn clue.'
Zura sat back in his chair, tearing off another bite of bread while his brain ticked through the day. Everyone else was still gone on the mission, so the Black Bull base was his kingdom for the time being.
"Could train with the sword," he muttered, tapping the table, "but that'll draw attention if I swing it around here. Sylph too… can't risk some random villager spotting her. Hm."
He chewed slowly, eyes narrowing. 'Best option's to run drills with my magic, get used to conserving mana. Maybe check the town, gather some info, lay low.' The quiet time wasn't bad—gave him space to think, plan his next moves without the Bulls' chaos filling the halls.
But just as he was about to scrape the last bit of butter across the bread, a sharp knock knock knock echoed from the door.
Zura froze, blinking. "The hell? Nobody's supposed to be back yet…" He rose from the chair, cautious, brushing crumbs from his lap as he crossed the floor.
Another knock, quicker this time.
When he pulled the door open, he found Sekke standing there—face a mix of sheepish and oddly stiff, like he'd practiced how to look normal on the walk here and completely failed.
"…Sekke?" Zura raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Sekke straightened his back too fast, plastering on a fake confident grin. "Ahaha, Zura my man! Don't look so surprised. I was just, uh… passing by and thought I'd drop in. Y'know… for casual social interaction between bros!"
Zura just stared at him flatly. "…You sound like you're trying way too hard."
Sekke coughed, waving a hand. "N-No, no, I'm chill. Totally chill." But his eyes darted around, his foot tapping nervously against the ground as if he was hiding something.