Seri and Emi were already at the machiya when the door finally opened.
They sat on the tatami floor with Luna between them, the little girl happily munching on snacks they'd bought on the way over. Empty chip bags and crumpled wrappers littered the low table. Luna's cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk's, and she looked utterly content.
"Where are they?" Emi said, scrolling through her phone with lazy boredom. "Ren said they were close before we even left. Could they have already met up with Kinatarou-san and gone somewhere?"
"That's likely," Seri answered.
Her voice was distracted. Her eyes were fixed on her phone—specifically, on a folder of photos she had taken of Yuki when he wasn't looking. Yuki mid-stretch. Yuki laughing. Yuki with his hair messy and his piercings catching the light. She scrolled slowly, her thumb lingering on each one.
"Yukari Kinatarou is really cool," Emi said, her tone shifting to something almost reverent. Her eyes sparkled. "She was part of the Vanguard, you know? I found clips of her missions on the VBC. She's really strong—and she has this unique flair. The way she moves is just..." She shivered. "Amazing."
Seri nodded absently.
"What's the VBC?" Luna asked through a mouthful of chips.
"The Vanguard Broadcasting Channel," Emi explained, still not looking up from her phone. "They broadcast most Vanguard missions on live TV. It generates income for the organization. Also makes celebrities out of the operatives."
Luna stared at her with a blank expression—clearly understanding nothing.
Emi finally looked at her, sighed, and patted her head. "Keep eating."
Seri glanced between them. They seemed close—closer than she'd expected. Emi, the haughty Royal, and Luna, the silent survivor. Something about the scene made her chest ache, though she couldn't say why.
The door slid open.
Ren stepped inside, Derek draped across his back. Derek's head hung low, his face bruised, his left hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage soaked through with blood. His eyes were half-closed, barely conscious.
Seri and Emi shot to their feet.
"What happened?" they asked in unison.
Ren's voice was flat. "Kinatarou-san kicked his ass."
Yukari entered next, her sword in one hand and the other shoved casually into her pocket. Her expression was unreadable—calm, detached, almost bored. Sophia followed a step behind, golden eyes sweeping the room.
Ren crossed to the couch and laid Derek down carefully. He turned to Seri. "Can you heal him?"
Seri was already moving, kneeling beside the couch. Her hands hovered over Derek's chest, green light flickering at her fingertips. The healing energy seeped into his body—mending the internal damage, knitting torn tissue, easing the swelling.
Emi looked at Yukari, her brow furrowed. "Why did you—"
"I was bored." Yukari's voice cut through the question before it could finish. She tilted her head. "And he was being very mouthy."
Emi's expression shifted instantly—concern melting into something closer to awe. Her eyes sparkled. "As expected of my idol."
Yukari blinked. "What are you? A fan?"
Emi nodded vigorously, her whole body vibrating with enthusiasm.
Derek stirred on the couch. His eyes opened—hazy at first, then focusing. He sat up slowly, Seri's healing already doing its work. He looked down at his hands.
His right hand—the one Yukari had crushed—was still swollen, but the bones had knitted. The blood had stopped. The pain had dulled to a distant throb.
He flexed his fingers.
Then he stared at them.
I didn't land a single hit.
She didn't use her Kizo. She didn't use her sword. She didn't even try.
And I lost.
He closed his eyes. His jaw tightened.
How weak am I, really?
Yukari sighed, breaking the silence. "Since you entertained me a bit, I might as well cook something."
She turned toward the kitchen, her bare feet padding softly against the tatami.
"Hey, Seri. You'll help me."
It wasn't a question. Seri rose and followed without a word.
---
The kitchen was small but functional—a simple stove, a wooden counter, a sink with a single window that looked out at the narrow garden. Yukari moved with practiced efficiency, pulling pots and pans from the shelves, setting water to boil.
Seri stood beside her, chopping vegetables. The knife clicked against the cutting board in a steady rhythm.
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
"Did you tell Yuki you're in love with him before he left?"
The question landed like a bullet.
Seri's hand slipped. The knife clattered against the board. She whipped her head around, face already burning crimson.
"H-How did you—"
"I'm not blind," Yukari said, not looking at her. She stirred the pot, her expression calm. "And besides, you're blushing really hard right now."
Seri's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
Yukari smiled—a proud, almost smug curve of her lips.
"You know," she said, her voice light, "Yuki and I sleep in the same bed. I've even showered with him."
Seri's face went from crimson to a shade that shouldn't have been possible on a human.
"W-Why are you saying that?"
Yukari leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Just so you know who he belongs to."
Seri's brain short-circuited.
He belongs to—
They shower together—
Same bed—
But they're cousins—
Adopted—
Not blood—
She's beautiful—
He's—
I—
Her thoughts spiraled into chaos.
But Seri Kyorin was not the type to back down.
She straightened her spine. Her face was still red—a deep, burning blush that spread to her ears and neck—but her voice, though stuttering, was firm.
"W-Well... I kissed Yuki." She lifted her chin. "I'm his first kiss."
Yukari froze.
Her hand stopped stirring the pot.
She turned slowly, her blue eyes widening—just for a moment, just enough to betray her surprise. Her cheeks flushed—a faint, barely-there pink.
Seri felt a flicker of satisfaction.
But Yukari recovered quickly.
"He's still mine," she said, her voice steady.
Seri's thoughts spiraled again.
Could she be in love with him?
It's not impossible—she's his adopted cousin, so they aren't related by blood—
But they showered together—
They sleep in the same bed—
She looked jealous just now—
She—
Both girls stood in the kitchen, the pot simmering, the vegetables half-chopped, each locked in their own silent war.
---
Outside, Emi was showing Luna pictures on her phone.
"This is a sundress," she explained, swiping through a fashion blog. "It's perfect for summer—light, breezy, and if you pair it with the right sandals—"
Luna stared at the screen, her head tilted. "What's a sundress?"
Emi gasped like Luna had just confessed to a crime. "You don't know what a sundress is?"
Luna shook her head slowly.
Emi's eyes lit up. "Oh, this is going to be so fun. I'm going to teach you everything."
Ren sat against the wall, his scorched forearm resting on his knee. Sophia sat beside him, silent, her golden eyes fixed on the kitchen door.
Derek was still on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
The room was quiet, warm, filled with the soft sounds of cooking and Luna's occasional questions about fashion.
It was almost peaceful.
---
Somewhere far away, in a place where the air was thick with humidity and the canopy blocked out the stars, Yuki Kinatarou was having trouble sleeping.
The branch was prickly. Sharp. Uncomfortable in a dozen small ways. He shifted, trying to find a position that didn't dig into his ribs, but the bark seemed to be actively hostile.
He stared up at the leaves above him.
I miss my bed.
He closed his eyes.
The thought came unbidden—a sudden, quiet longing that surprised him.
He opened his eyes again.
...That's new.
He shifted again. The branch creaked.
Somewhere in the darkness, something moved.
He sat up.
His hand found the dagger.
And the night stretched on.