Leon's pulse thrummed in his ears as he stared at the fragile figure sprawled across the makeshift bed. The dim light flickered against her pale, sweat-slicked skin, and his breath hitched in disbelief.
"This… can't be," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Raven? How? Damian isn't even born yet. This doesn't fit the main timeline at all."
His thoughts clawed at him, a jumble of confusion and disbelief. Moving closer, Leon knelt beside her. The girl lay motionless, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Her once radiant features were gaunt; her skin clung to her bones like parchment stretched thin.
"Hey—Miss? Miss! Can you hear me?" His voice rose with panic as he gently shook her shoulder.
She didn't respond. Leon pressed his palm to her forehead and felt the blazing heat under his touch. "Damn it. She's burning up."
He lifted her carefully, supporting her limp body with one arm while channeling a faint current of Ki through his other hand. A soft glow shimmered between them as life stirred faintly within her. Not enough—but something. Without hesitation, he carried her in his arms and shot through the night, his speed unconsciously surpassing Mach 1.5.
Within minutes, he burst through his front door, heart pounding. Laying Raven on his bed, he wiped the sweat from her brow with a damp cloth, then stood back, staring at her helplessly.
"Alright, Leon," he muttered to himself, "think—something light, easy to digest… porridge, maybe? Yeah, porridge and chicken soup." He turned toward his kitchen with renewed urgency. "Now where the hell did I put the ingredients?"
Moments later, the comforting scent of food filled the air. He returned to her side, a bowl in one hand, worry etched across his face. Placing a hand near her neckline, he let his Ki flow once more, a gentle pulse of warmth that seeped into her frail body.
"Hey," he whispered softly, "come on. Wake up."
Her eyelids fluttered, lashes trembling as she groaned faintly. The world around her spun, shapes blurring together. When her vision finally cleared, all she saw was a stranger's face—too close—and his hand over her chest.
Instinct exploded before reason. She cried out, slapping him hard across the cheek.
Leon recoiled, eyes wide. "Wha—hey! I'm trying to *help* you! My hand was below your neck, not on your chest! This is complete injustice!"
Color rose to Raven's pale cheeks as she stuttered, "W-well, your face was too close!"
Leon exhaled sharply, half irritated, half amused. "Seriously? You know what—whatever. Here." He placed the bowl beside her. "Eat. You look like you haven't eaten in days. There's warm milk too."
Raven blinked at him suspiciously. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you helping me? What do you want? I'm not weak—I can kill you if I have to."
Leon arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Overconfident, aren't you? Trust me, Missy, if I wanted something, you'd know. I just helped someone who looked like they needed it. And as for you killing me—please. You can barely sit up." He crossed his arms. "Now, for the love of God, just eat the food."
Raven glared, debating whether to trust him. But her strength waned with every breath. Her stomach growled pitiably, betraying her resolve. When Leon left the room, she tested a spoonful of porridge, waiting several minutes… nothing happened. Exhaustion won. She devoured the meal like someone who hadn't tasted mercy in years.
Half an hour passed before Leon returned. His hands were raised in peace as he eased into the room. Raven sat curled on the bed, eyes guarded.
"Feeling better?" he asked softly.
Her gaze flickered toward him. "Thank you… and I'm sorry. For slapping you earlier."
Leon smiled warmly. "It's alright. I can imagine what you've been through. If I didn't know your story, I'd probably have been arguing back—but hey, no harm done."
He offered his hand. "Name's Leon Braveheart."
She hesitated, eyes narrowing, then shook it weakly. "Raven. Just Raven. And… thank you, Leon."
*Smart,* Leon thought. *Keeping her real name to herself. Can't blame her.*
"No problem," he said aloud. "Get some rest. You can shower if you'd like—the bathroom's through that door on the left. There are spare clothes in the closet and towels already there. I'll take the guest room."
"Thank you," she murmured again, her tone softer now.
He turned for the door when her voice halted him. "Leon… can I ask you something?"
He glanced back, hand resting on the doorknob. "Sure, what is it?"
"Why were you in the sewers? I live there because I don't have a home—but you…?"
He met her eyes, his expression unreadable. "Because, like you, I'm not normal. I felt your power before I found you. Curiosity led me there."
Her eyes widened slightly, a spark of awareness lighting in their depths. Leon chuckled. "Honestly, when I first saw your hideout, I thought I'd walked in on some cultists." Then, with mock suspicion, he added, "You're not one, right?"
Raven smiled faintly. "No, rest assured I'm not."
"Good," he said with playful relief. "You had me worried for a second." His tone softened. "We'll talk about the power thing tomorrow. For now, you need rest. Sleep well, Raven."
Her answering smile was small but genuine. "Goodnight, Leon."
As the door closed behind him, Leon exhaled a laugh. "I should really get an Oscar for my acting." But beneath the humor, a pang of empathy stirred. "She's strong," he whispered. "To still be able to smile like that…"
Across the hall, two strangers—each scarred, each carrying secrets of their own—lay awake in silence, staring at the ceiling. Both thought of the other. Both wondering why their paths, against all odds, had crossed.
***