Liam and Shizuku chose a table by the window. The restaurant was warm, busy, filled with the clatter of dishes and low conversation. They ordered, waited, and ate in comfortable silence.
Then someone sat down at their table uninvited.
Shizuku glanced up, mildly curious. This was the person who'd been following them earlier. Apparently, he'd decided subtlety was overrated.
The man was tall, painfully thin, and looked like he hadn't slept in a month. His skin had a sallow, jaundiced tint. Dark circles ringed his eyes like bruises. When he pushed back his hood, revealing his face, those eyes didn't quite focus on anything. They stared past Liam and Shizuku, looking at something only he could see.
"My name is Rowan," the man said.
Liam blinked. "Uh. Okay. Nice to meet you?"
Rowan didn't seem to hear him.
"You look terrible, by the way. Like you're about to murder someone." Liam continued.
"Really?" Rowan's unfocused eyes finally locked onto Liam. "As expected. People like you have sharp instincts."
Liam studied the man's aura. It was weak. Thinner than a normal person's. The Nen leaking from his pores was almost nonexistent. Either this guy was naturally terrible at Ten, or he'd burned himself out.
Rowan stared at both of them, hollow-eyed and intense. "I can recognize people like you instantly. Strong. Capable. So why? Why do you let them live? Why do monsters get to walk free while good people suffer?"
Shizuku kept eating, unbothered.
Liam just listened.
"The Phantom Troupe took everything from me." Rowan's voice cracked. Bloodshot veins stood out in the whites of his eyes. "They killed my family. My friends. My neighbors. Everyone I knew. And they're still out there. Still alive. Still killing. Why hasn't anyone stopped them? Why do people like you exist if you won't hunt down murderers?"
The man's hands trembled on the table. He looked like he was holding himself together with duct tape and spite.
Liam set down his chopsticks. "I don't know about other people. But I definitely can't beat the Phantom Troupe. Not right now."
Rowan stared at him.
"I don't want to die," Liam added flatly.
"Don't you want to kill evil people?" Rowan's voice rose, drawing glances from nearby tables. "Don't you want justice? I have to kill them. I have to. They can't keep getting away with this—"
"Look at my lips." Liam pointed at his mouth, speaking slowly and clearly. "I. Can't. Beat. Them."
"Why... why won't anyone..." Rowan's voice trailed off into muttering. He wasn't listening anymore. Just looping through his own grief.
Liam sighed. He stood, gestured to a waiter, and ordered another meal to be delivered to Rowan's seat. Then he paid the bill and left with Shizuku.
Outside, the night air was cool and sharp. Liam sent his crows to check if Rowan was following them. He wasn't. The man just sat at the table, staring at nothing.
"When I left Meteor City," Shizuku said suddenly, "I wanted to find the Phantom Troupe."
Liam glanced at her. "I know."
"How?"
"The only people famous enough to make you curious are the Phantom Troupe," Liam said, grinning. "Meteor City's superstar exports. You wanted to see what the fuss was about."
"Oh." Shizuku nodded, processing this. Then she frowned. "Do a lot of people know the Troupe comes from Meteor City?"
"I know. Whether other people know, I have no idea."
"Okay."
"What'd you think of that guy back there?" Liam asked.
Shizuku's expression didn't change. "The Phantom Troupe has killed a lot of people. It's normal for someone to want revenge."
They walked back to the hotel in silence, putting the encounter behind them.
Time to get back to work.
The days blurred together.
Training. Rest. Training. Rest.
January bled into February.
January 31st. 6:55 PM. Hotel Room 4022.
The hotel was less than ten kilometers from Cosmo Airport now. Close enough that Liam could see planes taking off through the window if he squinted.
Shizuku's aura flickered. Her Ken contracted, wavering at the edges. Sweat poured down her face. Her legs trembled.
The timer ticked forward, relentless.
Finally, her Ken shattered. She collapsed to her knees, gasping.
Two hours, twenty-seven minutes, twenty-eight seconds.
8,848 aura.
She rolled onto the floor, sitting cross-legged, and looked at Liam.
He was still standing. Eyes closed. Body shaking with exhaustion. His Ken had shrunk significantly, rippling like a poorly maintained forcefield. But he held on.
Two hours, twenty-eight minutes.
Two hours, twenty-nine minutes.
Shizuku watched the timer.
Finally, Liam let out a sharp breath and dropped to his knees.
"Two and a half hours," Shizuku said, holding up the timer. "150 minutes. Your total is 9,000 aura now."
Liam grinned through the pain, rubbing his sore muscles. He looked up.
Shizuku sat in front of him, holding the timer.
Wearing only her underwear.
Her training clothes were scattered around her in a damp heap.
"Where are your clothes?" Liam asked flatly.
"I was covered in sweat."
"So you just... took them off."
Shizuku blinked at him. "Yes."
"Were you planning to take off the rest too?"
Shizuku just stared.
Liam sighed, stood up with a groan, and grabbed her hand. "If you're sticky, go shower. Come on."
"Okay."
February 1st.
They checked out early. Their luggage was piled by the door: bags, boxes, random purchases from two weeks of living in Cosmo.
Shizuku summoned Blinky. "Suck in all our luggage."
She flipped the switch to ON.
The vacuum cleaner's mouth opened wide. Wind howled. Everything vanished into the void.
"There." Shizuku dismissed Blinky with a puff of aura. "Done."
"You really are Doraemon," Liam said, smirking.
"What?"
"Never mind." Liam stretched, feeling the pleasant ache of two weeks' worth of brutal training. "Let's split up. I'll grab the rings. You head to the airport. We'll meet there."
"Okay."
They parted ways at the hotel entrance, disappearing into the morning crowd.
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