Iris stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open, staring blankly at the white ceiling overhead. For a long moment, she simply lay there, the silence unfamiliar. Peaceful. Unreal.
Then, slowly, she sat up—blinking away the haze of sleep, the memories still fragments. Her legs swung over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet met the soft carpet, warm underfoot.
With cautious steps, she padded toward the door.
The living room greeted her like another world.
Bright. Clean. Still. And at the small kitchen counter stood him—the boy.
Now in a simple shirt, hair slightly tousled, his back turned to her as he moved with quiet precision.
A pan simmered. Steam curled through the air. The scent of freshly made noodles drifted toward her.
For a moment, Iris simply watched—frozen in the doorway—not out of fear, but something deeper.
Confusion. Curiosity.
And the lingering question that wouldn't leave her mind:
"Who is he... really?"
Iris padded quietly into the room, her tiny steps barely making a sound on the soft floor.
"Good morning, big brother," she mumbled sleepily, rubbing one eye with her fist.
The boy glanced at her from over his shoulder, then turned back to the stove.
"How was your night?"
She peeked over the counter, eyes lighting up at the scent wafting through the air. "Fine! Are you making noodles? Mmm..."
He gave a silent nod, stirring the pot with mechanical grace.
Iris tilted her head, her curiosity blooming like a flower. "My name's Iris. What's yours?"
He paused.
Then, with the same flat tone as always, he said, "I don't have one."
Her eyes widened, stunned. "What? What kind of human doesn't have a name?!"
He said nothing. The silence hung between them.
Iris looked down, her voice dropping as she muttered, "...Never mind."
He noticed the shift. The disappointment in her voice. The way her energy dimmed just slightly.
After a moment, he spoke again—softly this time.
"...You can give me one."
Her head snapped up, wide-eyed. "Really?!"
A smile bloomed on her face, bright and unfiltered.
"Okay!! Lemme think!" She began pacing in tiny circles, tapping her chin with exaggerated concentration.
He watched her—this strange, absurd little human.
So small. So full of life.
And then, something unexpected happened.
He chuckled.
A quiet, brief sound—but real. Alive.
Iris looked up at once, mock-pouting.
"Hey! What are you laughing at?" Iris puffed her cheeks in mock annoyance.
"Nothing," he replied, a rare glint of amusement in his golden eyes.
She paused, then suddenly lit up. Snap! "Leo!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Leo?"
"Yep!" she said, hands on her hips. "Like the lion! Strong, warm, and cool. It fits you."
A quiet beat passed.
"...Okay," he said at last, nodding faintly. "I'm Leo, then."
Outside, the world was still broken. But in here, between two strangers stitched together by fate.
Later that day, after breakfast, Iris sat curled up on the couch, hugging her knees.
Leo stood silently by the window, golden eyes fixed on the distant skyline. The horizon still shimmered with residual violet static. Tokyo, or what remained of it, was quiet — too quiet.
Buildings sagged like ash sculptures, helicopters patrolled in cautious loops, and the once-endless sirens had fallen eerily still.
"Leo..." Iris's voice broke the silence.
He didn't turn. "Yes?"
"Where did you come from?" she asked, tilting her head. "You were inside that glowing thing... weren't you?"
He was quiet for a moment.
Then, in a voice like wind across ruins, he said, "I don't remember... Not exactly. I just woke up. And everything was already broken."
Iris slipped off the couch and stepped beside him, both of them framed by the cracked glass and broken sky.
Then—
A sharp buzz echoed through the room. The lights flickered once, then again. Leo's pupils shimmered gold for a heartbeat. His head snapped toward the window.
Down below, they were approaching.
Dark-suited figures moved in silent formation, weapons humming with strange energy.
Drones glided low through the mist. Each operative bore a distinct sigil on their chest:
V.A.S.C.
Vanguard Anomaly Security Command.
"They've found us," Leo muttered, his voice edged in calm resolve.
"Who are they?" Iris whispered, instinctively backing away.
Leo didn't answer. He shut the curtain in one swift motion, then turned, kneeling before her. Gently, he took her trembling hand in his own.
"From now on..." he said, voice firm, absolute, "stay behind me."
Outside, the air quivered—pressure building, danger drawing near.
Inside the room, lit by the dying afternoon sun, Iris clung to Leo's hand.
And for the first time in her life...
She felt safe.
Unshakably, impossibly safe — wrapped in the arms of something that could break the world.