The sun was barely up when I made it to the academy rooftop.
Cool breeze. Sky burning orange. Pitch lights still glowing faint below.
I just needed space.
My boots dangled off the ledge. My fingers drummed on the concrete. The system had gone silent since that dream with Timo Werner. Maybe it knew I needed this part alone.
I didn't hear her at first.
"You think too loud," she said.
I turned. Elira.
"Her obsidian braid was still there, pulled back tight — but this time, a single strand of blue shimmered through it, tucked behind her ear like a quiet rebellion."
Same confident eyes. Different today, though. She wasn't carrying her usual data pads or scanning the field from a tactical angle. Just her. Standing beside me.
"Didn't think anyone else came up here," I said.
"You were wrong. Again," she smirked, then sat down beside me. "So what's eating the great Vega Ruiz? You just dropped a performance that lit up five planets."
I exhaled. "That's the problem."
She glanced sideways. "Let me guess. Now everyone expects you to pull rabbits from your boots every match?"
"Something like that."
We sat in silence for a while. Below, I could hear whistles blowing. Training would start soon. But for now, this rooftop felt like a different world.
"You know," she began, "you're not the only one with expectations."
I looked at her.
"I signed up to be a Field Analyst at Solar because I thought it would help me land a gig with the Galactic Federation. Big league team analyst. Sitting next to coaches. Calling plays."
"Sounds like a dream."
She nodded. "But then I started watching you. And Kenji. And Soren. And Musa. And suddenly, it wasn't just numbers anymore."
She paused.
> "I want to be there when something historic happens. Not watching from a control room. But there. Where it begins."
Something tightened in my chest.
"You're already part of it."
She smiled at that.
"Besides," I added, trying to lighten the mood, "I'll probably need someone to explain alien defensive patterns to me when I make the Galactic Cup."
> "You will. And I'll be the one feeding you the patterns."
We stayed like that a little longer. Talking. Teasing. Sometimes not saying anything at all. Just... being there.
I noticed the way her hand rested close to mine.
Not touching. But close.
And I realized something: This wasn't some flirtation after a win. This was the start of something.
Something solid.
Something real.
She stood first.
"Come on, superstar. You're late for warm-up. Coach Navarro's gonna make you run laps till your boots melt."
"Only if you time me," I said.
> "Always do."
She tossed me a small protein bar before heading down the stairs.
I stared at it for a moment, then smiled.
That was Elira.
Always watching. Always thinking.
She wasn't just going to be part of my story. She was going to shape it.
Not from the sidelines. But right beside me.
Step for step.