Rin Kuga watched the girl before him, her usual armor of celebrity poise cracked to reveal a fragile, trembling soul. Mai Sakurajima looked small, her eyes pleading for a reality she was rapidly losing touch with.
He let out a long, weary sigh. This Adolescence Syndrome sat outside the jurisdiction of a Kamen Rider; it wasn't a monster to be struck down. It was a conceptual rot, a social erasure. Resolving it usually required the kind of grand, embarrassing public spectacle—confessing one's love from the rooftops—that Rin found utterly beneath his dignity. He was a King, not a street performer.
He reached out, his palm coming to rest gently atop Mai's head. His fingers brushed through her silken hair, a grounding touch that seemed to anchor her flickering existence back to the physical plane. A faint, knowing smirk played on his lips.
"You've been a ghost all day, haven't you? That means you haven't eaten a thing. Come on, Bunny-senpai. Let's get some food in you before you actually fade away."
He withdrew his hand and turned toward the street without waiting for an answer. Behind him, Mai stood frozen for a second, her hands flying up to cover the spot on her head he had touched.
"Is that any way to treat your senpai?!" she shouted, her voice cracking with a mix of indignation and relief. Even if the rest of the world was deaf to her, his sharp tongue was a comfort she hadn't realized she needed. She hurried after him, her footsteps light against the pavement.
Despite his arrogance, the Kouhai possessed a terrifyingly keen intuition. He had looked past the supernatural phenomenon and seen the simple, human hunger she was trying to hide.
The evening air was thick with the scent of rain and salt. Streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long, wavering shadows of the pair against the damp concrete.
"Some gentleman you are," Mai huffed, struggling with the weight of a heavy plastic bag filled with groceries. She walked half a step behind him, adjusting her grip on the handles. "Making a delicate girl carry all the supplies while you stroll ahead with your hands empty."
Rin didn't slow his pace, though he glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes dancing with a cold amusement. "Consider it the price of admission. I'm cooking for you for free; carrying the ingredients is the lightest labor I could assign you. Be grateful I'm not making you prep the vegetables too."
He picked up the pace, leaving her to mutter under her breath as she hurried to keep up.
"Hey! Wait for me, you insufferable jerk!"
Inside the quiet sanctuary the watch shop that served as his temporary throne—the air was soon filled with the rich, savory aroma of high-end cuisine. Mai sat at the small dining table, staring in stunned silence at the dish placed before her.
She took a hesitant bite, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. It was, without hyperbole, the most exquisite thing she had ever tasted. Every flavor was balanced with mathematical precision, a culinary masterpiece that felt like it had been prepared by a god.
She didn't know that Rin had accessed the records of the Kamen Rider history, momentarily manifesting the peerless culinary soul of Souji Tendo—the man who walked the path of heaven. It was one of the more convenient perks of the Ohma power; the ability to replicate the peak of human skill in any field.
Rin sat opposite her, leaning back as he watched her eat. He waited until she had finished a significant portion before speaking.
"Eat up, then head home. I'll find a way to stabilize your condition by tomorrow." He was already mentally scanning the various Rider powers at his disposal, searching for a way to rewrite her social causality without having to resort to a teenage shouting match.
Mai suddenly set her chopsticks down. The silence in the shop grew heavy, broken only by the steady, rhythmic ticking of a hundred clocks on the walls. Her face flushed a deep, burning crimson, rivaling the color of a ripe apple. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, as if she were about to leap off a precipice.
"Tonight..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the ticking clocks. She bit her lip, then looked him straight in the eye with a desperate, localized courage. "Can I stay here tonight? Please... don't make me be alone."