I woke to something soft tickling my cheek.
Not the sun streaming through the window. Not the distant sounds of the city stirring below. Something infinitely more interesting than either of those mundane wake-up calls.
My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains. The first thing I saw, mere inches from my face, was the pristine white fur of a long rabbit ear. It twitched once, twice, betraying some dream playing out in its owner's sleeping mind.
My gaze traveled downward.
Rumi's head rested on my shoulder, her river of black hair splayed across my chest like spilled ink. I could hear the soft, rhythmic pattern of her breathing, punctuated by the faintest snores. But most pressingly, most immediately, I could feel her.
She had shifted during the night. Extensively.
She was draped over me now, one leg hooked possessively over mine, the curve of her hip slotted against me with the precision of a puzzle piece finding its home. Her arm lay across my chest, fingers curled loosely against my ribs.
And there, impossible to ignore, was the soft, full weight of her breasts pressing against my side, their warmth seeping through my thin undershirt and branding itself into my consciousness.
Well, well. An unscheduled merger. The terms seem... surprisingly agreeable.
I took a moment to appreciate the situation with the detached air of a connoisseur evaluating a particularly fine vintage. The rabbit girl who'd spent the last day and a half glaring daggers at me, who'd threatened my dental health multiple times, who'd made it abundantly clear that any physical contact would result in swift and painful retribution, was now using me as her personal body pillow.
The irony was delicious.
Her breathing shifted, growing slightly deeper. In her sleep, she nuzzled closer, her nose pressing against the hollow of my throat. The movement caused her chest to shift against me, and I felt every curve through the thin fabric separating us.
Focus, Valentine. What's the optimal move here?
Option A: Wake her immediately.
Pro: I'd maintain control of the narrative. The upper hand.
Con: The second her eyes opened and she realized the position we were in, mortification would transform instantly into rage. She'd lash out, probably with that elbow she'd promised my ribs. The morning would be ruined. Trust, already fragile, would shatter. High-risk, low-reward. A terrible play.
Option B: Feign sleep. Let her wake on her own terms.
Pro: Plausible deniability. I was unconscious when she moved. Can't blame a man for his sleep patterns. It absolved me of all responsibility while allowing me to observe her genuine reaction. Medium risk, high reward, and infinitely more entertaining.
The decision crystallized instantly.
I would remain "asleep." It was the most profitable course of action, both strategically and for my personal amusement.
I regulated my breathing, keeping it deep and even. My body stayed perfectly still, muscles relaxed in the universal language of unconsciousness. This was a performance. One I intended to execute flawlessly.
Minutes passed. Maybe five, maybe ten. Time had a way of stretching when you were lying perfectly still with a beautiful woman unconsciously draped across you.
Then I felt it. The shift.
Her breathing pattern changed. No longer the deep, rhythmic pulls of sleep, but something shorter. Sharper. A quick intake of breath that spoke of sudden wakefulness.
Every muscle in her body went rigid.
Showtime.
I committed fully to the role. My breathing remained steady. My face stayed slack. I was the picture of peaceful slumber.
I could practically feel the exact moment she became fully aware of where she was, what she was doing, and who she was doing it with. The tension in her body was like a coiled spring, wound to its breaking point.
I waited for the scramble. The panicked retreat. The mortified stammering.
Instead, after what felt like an eternity, something unexpected happened.
She relaxed.
Not the forced, false calm of someone pretending everything was fine. But genuine, deliberate relaxation. The tension bled from her muscles like water from a cracked dam. She shifted, and my pulse kicked up despite my ironclad control because she wasn't moving away.
She moved deeper into the embrace.
Her head nuzzled back into the crook of my shoulder, finding a more comfortable position. The soft pressure of her chest against me became more pronounced as she settled her weight. Her fingers, which had been curled loosely against my ribs, spread flat, claiming more territory.
I gave it another ten minutes, savoring the victory. Her breathing had returned to something approaching sleep, but not quite. She was hovering in that liminal space between waking and dreaming, and she'd chosen to stay there rather than face the awkwardness of our current arrangement.
But all good things had to end, and we had a busy day ahead.
I executed my exit strategy.
I let out a loud, theatrical yawn and stretched, my arms extending above my head. The movement forced her to respond.
Rumi jolted like she'd been shocked, scrambling off me and to the far edge of the bed with the speed of a startled cat. Her face cycled through several shades of red before settling on something approaching crimson. Her ears stood straight up, betraying her absolute mortification.
She went immediately on the offensive.
"About time, you lazy bum!" Her voice came out higher than usual, rushed. "Get up! We're burning daylight!"
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes with deliberate grogginess. "Morning to you too, sunshine."
"Don't 'sunshine' me." She was already off the bed, yanking on her boots with unnecessary force. "We have five Familias to visit, and I'm not wasting a single second because you decided to sleep in."
I bit back the observation that she'd seemed perfectly content to waste those seconds approximately two minutes ago.
"Right. Familia hunting." I pulled on my outer shirt, noting how she refused to look in my direction. "Can't start the day without breakfast though."
"Fine. Breakfast. Five minutes. Downstairs." She was already at the door.
"You're not going to wash up first?"
Her hand froze on the handle. Her ears flattened. "I'll wash after we eat."
She fled the room before I could respond.
I took my time getting ready, enjoying the small victory more than I probably should have.
The inn's common room smelled like porridge and fresh bread. A handful of early risers hunched over their meals, nursing mugs of what I assumed was coffee or tea. Rumi had claimed a small table in the corner, already working through a bowl of oatmeal with the aggressive intensity of someone trying to murder their breakfast.
I collected my own meal and sat across from her.
The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension. She hadn't looked up once since I'd sat down. Her focus remained laser-focused on her bowl, her spoon scraping against the ceramic with enough force to leave marks.
I ate calmly, occasionally glancing at her. A small smirk played at the corner of my mouth, one I didn't bother to hide.
She noticed. Her ears twitched in irritation, but she still didn't meet my eyes.
"Sleep well?" I asked, my tone perfectly innocent.
"Fine." The single word came out clipped, sharp.
"Really? I thought I heard you tossing and turning."
Her spoon paused mid-stab. "I slept perfectly fine, thank you."
"Good, good. Wouldn't want you to be tired for our big day."
She finally looked up, her crimson eyes narrowed. "Why are you being weird?"
"Me? Weird? I'm just making conversation."
"Well, stop it."
I finished my meal and pulled out the Guild pamphlet, unfolding it on the table between us. The shift in topic was merciful for both of us. The list of circled Familias stared back, written in Rumi's precise handwriting.
Athena. Hermes. Miach. Soma. Quetzalcoatl.
"Athena first," I said, tracing the route on the map. "Their manor is in the western district. About a twenty-minute walk from here."
Rumi leaned forward, studying the map. The tension eased slightly as we fell back into our roles. Partners. Teammates. Two people with a shared objective.
"What's our pitch?" she asked.
"For me or for you?"
"Both."
I considered it. "You lead with your physical capabilities. You've got speed, agility, and the raw determination they look for in frontline adventurers. Emphasize your willingness to learn, your work ethic."
"And you?"
"I'll adapt based on who's conducting the interview. Read the room. Figure out what they value most and position myself accordingly."
She frowned. "That's vague."
"That's flexible." I folded the map and tucked it away. "I don't have your obvious physical advantages. What I have is the ability to tell people what they want to hear in a way that makes them think it was their idea all along."
"You mean you're going to lie."
"I prefer 'strategic presentation of facts.'"
"That's definitely lying."
"Semantics."
She shook her head but didn't argue further. We finished breakfast in more comfortable silence and made our way back upstairs to gather our things.
The morning sun had fully risen by the time we stepped out of the inn. Orario stretched before us, the city already buzzing with activity. Merchants called out their wares. Adventurers moved in groups toward Babel. Street performers had claimed corners, their music drifting through the morning air.
I felt it then, standing on that street corner with the Guild pamphlet in my pocket and an annoyed rabbit girl at my side. The first real stirring of something I hadn't felt since before the champagne, before the void, before Juno's cold proposition.
Anticipation.
This was the opening move of a much larger game. Five Familias. Five potential paths to power. And somewhere in this city, the mistake Juno had mentioned, the reason I'd been given a second chance, waited to be discovered.
I turned to Rumi. She stood with her arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently against the cobblestones. The morning light caught in her black hair, and her ears swiveled, tracking the sounds of the waking city.
A careful foot of space separated us. It felt like an entire world and a paper-thin wall all at once.
"Ready to go Familia hunting, bunny girl?"
She scowled, her ears twitching in that way that meant I'd annoyed her. She still wouldn't quite meet my eyes.
"Just try to keep up."
We started walking, navigating the morning crowds with the unspoken understanding that we were in this together, at least until one of us found a Familia willing to take the risk.
The western district awaited. Athena's manor. Our first test.
And if I was being honest with myself, which I rarely was, I was looking forward to it.