Hibiki, in the outfit Tatsuya bought, glowed brighter and more beautiful than usual. Her smile would overwhelm any ordinary high school boy, but not Tatsuya.
"Next, let's shop for your clothes."
"Mine? I cleared the day for you—focus on your shopping."
"But just me getting treats feels off..."
"It's thanks for before. Don't worry."
Hibiki knew Tatsuya's stubborn streak. Still, as the elder woman, endless favors pricked her conscience.
"Fine—lunch is on me!"
"Wasn't food the main event?"
"Yeah. Dinner's yours, per our deal. Lunch isn't included, right?"
"The Major's pushy schedule, after all."
"Exactly. Relax."
She linked arms with him. Despite banter, she intended to savor the day, Tatsuya thought with a wry smile.
Her pick: a plain pasta house. Neither picky, it was the nearest.
"Welcome..."
The waitress froze at Tatsuya's face. Unprofessional, but not entirely her fault.
Stared at, he felt no joy—nearly turned away. Sensing it, she snapped back.
"Uh, table for two?"
"Yes."
"This way."
Anywhere worked; no further rudeness, no need to leave. He followed.
At the seat, he pulled her chair. She nodded gracefully, sat. He sat opposite, glanced at the waitress for menus, nodded her away. Fluid, wasted-less moves—no high schooler's grace, Hibiki mused. Others, staff included, couldn't peg him as such; his youthful poise drew sighs from women, aimed at envious partners.
"Tatsuya-kun, you're faking your age, right?"
"It's experience, not years. Family drilled it in young."
"...Right."
Echoing their pre-mission talk, but Yotsuba, not the battalion, forged him. She knew, gaze dropping awkwardly.
"Don't fret. Wasn't bad."
"You just..."
"No point dwelling."
She knew his muted emotions. He didn't hate it because he couldn't feel hate—likely true, and why Mayumi clung so. Or so she thought.
"Anyway, this place isn't crowded?"
"Prime window seat. You're the draw, Hibiki-san?"
"Me? It's you."
Mid-chat, a voice from behind—total stranger to both.
"I'm in this line of work... Interested in movies, miss?"
Tatsuya eyed the card thrust at Hibiki: talent agency president. Young, smug success type—paraded actresses for ego boosts and hookups. He pegged it instantly.
His companion: rising star Aoi Yū, overheard from chatter. Tatsuya hadn't watched her before.
With Miyuki absent, Hibiki was priority. As the president reached, Tatsuya twisted his arm up—pure reflex against touching his charge.
"Leave."
Did it reach? The man writhed on the floor; Tatsuya's steely glare brimmed killing intent—enough to break most. No wetting himself showed guts. But his date, ashamed, fled.
Dragged out by staff mid-rant, the man vanished. Tatsuya returned, uninterested.
Timing perfect, the owner approached.
"Sorry for the disturbance."
"No—we caused it. My apologies."
Tatsuya's words shifted the owner's face; he pumped his hand, offered free dessert for the hassle.
"What do you think?"
"Can't refuse kindness."
She deferred to Hibiki; she accepted. He bowed again, reseated.
"Things get exciting with you. But glad you protected me."
"You'd manage without, Hibiki-san."
"What do you mean~?"
"You've got stronger backup than me."
"But here, you had to."
She grasped it fully, yet cherished his aid. Backup or not, he saved her—that mattered.
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