The whole way to school I kept thinking, This is dumb. Not in a dramatic way—more like the kind of dumb you realize halfway through and then stubbornly finish anyway because turning around would mean admitting it.
The streets were quieter than they should've been for a weekday morning. Not empty, but... off. Like the city was holding its breath.
When the school finally came into view, the reason slapped me in the face.
The front area was still scarred from yesterday—cracked pavement, chipped concrete, scattered debris that someone had tried to sweep into tired little piles. Parts of the grounds were cordoned off with tape. A sign was zip-tied near the entrance.
SCHOOL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE (DAMAGE INSPECTION).
I stared at it for a long second.
Then I let my shoulders drop. "Right. Of course."
I was an idiot.
Perhaps all the adrenaline lately has messed up my brain. It would make sense.
I turned slightly, scanning the campus like I expected it to suddenly look normal if I stared hard enough. The building itself didn't look like it was about to collapse, but the atmosphere screamed not safe. Some windows were cracked. One corner of the walkway was fractured like a spiderweb.
And the worst part was how normal everything around it tried to be. Cars still passed. A couple people walked by with coffee. The world had the nerve to keep moving like yesterday hadn't happened.
I drifted along the fence line, hands in my pockets, eyes tracing the damage.
Yesterday, there had been voices in my ear. There had been that stupid little... flying camera thing hovering near me like a cursed insect. There had been a ship in the sky watching every breath I took.
And there was... Tohka
But Now?
Nothing.
It was just me. A closed school. And a street that felt way too quiet.
I exhaled through my nose, trying to push down the small, sharp knot that wanted to form in my stomach.
Calm down. It's fine.
The thought came so easily it almost annoyed me. Like my body had decided panic was inconvenient and filed it away.
I took a step, then another, and my gaze slid back to the sign.
"Closed," I muttered. "So my brilliant plan today was... come to a place I can't enter."
I shook my head, already starting to turn away—
I decided to walk around the destroyed neighborhood
I also needed to do shopping for some eggs and milk so I guess this works out..
Letting out a sigh I took a different path than the way home.
However before I got far a "Do not enter" sign popped up on the road.
"Oh? This..."
The road was completely unusable, the road was torn up and multi tenant building are collapsed in on themselves.
It looked like a war took place here.
All Becuase of Tohka huh....
This girl really did have an unthinkable amount of power. I already knew she was strong but it still shocks me to see the pure destruction she can cause...
"Shi-!"
I paused.
That was... familiar. Too familiar.
"Shido-!"
I didn't turn at first. I honestly thought I imagined it. My brain had been doing that a lot lately: swallowing sounds, missing obvious things, getting stuck in its own thoughts.
"Shidou! Hey-!"
It sounded closer. More annoyed.
I blinked, still staring at the fence, still not turning. My thoughts were stuck on the damage again, on the silence, on how there should have been—
"SHI-DOU!"
There was a stomp. A sharp, impatient footfall.
I finally snapped out of it and turned.
And there she was—standing a few steps away like she belonged there. Like this was normal. Like yesterday hadn't ended with bullets and barriers and a sword the size of my torso.
Her eyes were narrowed. Her posture was tense in a way that wasn't exactly aggression—more like irritation wrapped around suspicion. Her hair moved slightly in the breeze. And she was looking at me like I'd personally offended her by existing with my back turned.
"You—!" she started, then stopped like she couldn't find the right word.
I opened my mouth. "I—uh—"
"Stu~pid," she said, dragging the word out with vicious satisfaction. "Stu~pid. Why are you ignoring me?!"
My shoulders tensed. "I didn't ignore you on purpose."
"You did," she snapped.
"I didn't! I was thinking..."
"That's the same thing!," she declared, as if she'd solved a fundamental law of the universe.
I stared at her.
Then, despite myself, a small laugh slipped out. It wasn't even funny. It was just... the absurdity of it. The fact that she was here. The fact that she was calling me stupid like a sulky kid.
Her eyes sharpened. "Why are you laughing?"
"I'm not," I said automatically, which was a lie. "I mean—sorry. I just—"
My gaze flicked up, scanning around her. The street. The rooftops. The sky.
No alarms. No sirens. No AST uniforms in the distance. No tremor under my feet. No sudden wave of pressure or heat.
Nothing.
How..?
I swallowed. "How are you here?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Yesterday—when you appeared—there was... that thing." I gestured vaguely, because how do you explain spacequakes without sounding insane? "The shaking. The explosion. The—"
"I did not explode," she said, offended.
"That's not what I meant." I exhaled and tried again. "There isn't... any of it now. No quake. No—"
Her eyes narrowed like I was poking something she didn't want touched. "I came."
"Just... came."
"Yes."
"How."
She crossed her arms, looking away. For a second—just a second—her cheeks went a shade warmer. A tiny blush, so quick I almost thought it was lighting.
Then her gaze snapped back to me, sharp and defensive. "I just came... So Stop asking!"
"I'm not trying to—"
She lifted one hand.
The air shimmered.
The ground a few feet away flared, a thin line of scorched pavement like someone had traced it with fire. Heat rolled up from it. The scent of burned asphalt hit my nose.
I froze.
She didn't attack me. She didn't draw that sword. She just... made sure I understood that if she wanted the conversation to end, it would.
Her chin lifted. "Conversation over."
I held up both hands. "Okay. Okay. I get it."
Her eyes stayed on me, but the tension in her shoulders shifted slightly, like she was waiting for me to say something else so she could shut it down again.
So I didn't.
Instead, I let my voice soften. "Are you... okay?"
She blinked at the question like it didn't fit in her world.
Then she frowned. "You said 'date.'"
Oh.
Of course.
Her expression turned stern with purpose. "Explain."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "Now?"
"Yes. Explain 'date.'"
Alright then. I did ask her anyway
"Okay," I said. "A date is... when two people go somewhere together."
"To fight?" she asked immediately.
"No"
"To eat?" She leaned forward slightly, suspicious.
"Sometimes?" I hesitated. "It's... it's just spending time together. Like... going out. Talking. Walking. Doing something fun."
She stared at me with that intense, unreadable focus like she was memorizing every syllable.
Then her eyes narrowed. "So... playing together."
"That's... close enough," I admitted, cheeks heating. "Yeah. Playing. Together."
Her expression shifted.
Not soft exactly—she still looked like she could set the street on fire because I breathed wrong—but there was something bright behind it. Something curious. Almost... pleased.
"So you meant," she said slowly, "you will play with me."
I coughed. "I mean—if you want to."
She nodded once, decisive. "Yes."
Then she turned and started walking like the decision was made and I was expected to follow because obviously.
I hurried after her. "Wait—where are you going?"
She looked back. "To play."
"That's not a location," I said, but she had already turned forward again.
I caught up, matching her pace. For two steps we walked in silence.
Then I realized something obvious and my stomach dipped.
Her outfit.
Huge giveaway. The armor would no doubt bring attention to her
"Hold on," I said quickly.
She stopped. "What."
"Your Armor," I said, trying to keep it calm so she wouldn't set anything else on fire. "You stand out."
She then gave me a dark look.
"I am not hiding, this is my armor and my territory" she said with a glare.
"It's not about hiding." I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "It's about not attracting attention. There are... people who will come if they notice you."
She tilted her head. "Those soldiers."
I flinched at how easily she said it.
"Yes," I said. "Them."
She crossed her arms again. "Let them come."
"That's the problem," I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. "If they come, they'll try to hurt you."
She stared at me like I'd said something stupid. "They already do."
"I know." I forced myself not to get frustrated. "But—if we're going to... 'play' in public, you need to look like everyone else. Like you belong."
She looked down at herself as if considering it. Then her gaze snapped up, skeptical. "And how do I do that."
I hesitated.
I had no money. No plan. No secret stash of girls' clothes in my pocket—thank God, because if I did, the conversation would get a lot worse.
I glanced around.
A schoolgirl walked by on the other side of the street—normal uniform, normal bag, normal morning.
I pointed. "Like... that."
Tohka's gaze followed my finger. She watched the girl walk away.
Then, without warning, Tohka stepped forward.
"Wait—"
She moved too fast. One moment she was beside me; the next she was closing the distance with that girl like a predator that had chosen a target.
My heart jumped.
No. No no no—
The schoolgirl noticed too late. She turned, startled.
Tohka raised her hand black orbs aimed at the girls head.
I lunged.
I grabbed Tohka's wrist with both hands and yanked it down hard enough that my fingers stung. "Stop!"
She whipped her head toward me, eyes flashing. "What are you doing!"
"What are you doing?" I hissed, keeping my voice low and urgent.
Her gaze flicked to the schoolgirl—who was now frozen in fear, clutching her bag—then back to me like this was obvious.
"Taking," she said, as if the concept required no further explanation. "Clothes."
The blood drained from my face. "You can't just—"
"Yes I can."
"No!"
The schoolgirl let out a small, shaky sound.
Tohka's eyes narrowed, irritated by the noise like it was an interruption. "Why is she afraid."
Because you look like you're about to knock her out and rob her, I almost said.
Instead I forced myself to breathe. I stepped slightly in front of the girl without turning my back fully on Tohka—pure instinct.
"Because you're hurting her," I said.
"I did not touch her."
"You were going to."
Tohka's jaw tightened. "It is faster."
I clenched my teeth, then exhaled through them. "People don't want to be hurt. They don't want to be scared."
She stared.
I took the risk and pressed the point, because it mattered. "When someone scares you, what do you feel?"
Her eyes sharpened. "Hate."
"And when someone hurts you?"
"Hate."
"Right." I nodded, keeping my voice steady. "That's what you're doing to her. You're making her feel the same thing you feel about them."
Her expression flickered.
For a second she looked... confused. Like the concept annoyed her because it made sense.
The schoolgirl swallowed audibly.
Tohka's gaze slid to the girl again. The fear on the girl's face was unmistakable.
Tohka's shoulders lowered slightly.
"...I will remember," she said, stiffly.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I gently guided her wrist down further, making sure her hand wasn't raised like a threat.
Then I turned to the schoolgirl with what I hoped was a reassuring look. "Sorry. She—uh—she didn't mean—"
Tohka snapped, "I did mean it."
I flinched. The schoolgirl flinched harder.
I coughed. "She... meant the clothes part. Not the hurting you. Go."
The schoolgirl didn't need more encouragement. She bolted instantly.
I watched her go, then turned back to Tohka with a tired sigh. "Okay. No stealing."
She looked offended. "Then what."
I opened my mouth.
And then I remembered all at once:
No voices. No crew. No smug captain in my ear telling me the "correct route." No deadpan woman handing me a script. No ship watching from above.
Just me.
I rubbed my temple. "I uh.... don't know."
Tohka stared at me. "You don't know?"
"I don't know," I repeated with a shrug, and somehow it came out honest instead of pathetic. "But we'll figure it out."
She studied me, eyes narrow like she was trying to decide if "we'll figure it out" was a lie.
Then, with an annoyed huff like she was humor-ing a child, she snapped her fingers.
Light flickered around her body.
Her outfit dissolved like it was made of mist, and in the next breath it reformed as a school uniform—white blouse, skirt, even socks. It was a little... off. The collar sat slightly wrong. The skirt length was almost but not quite standard. But from a distance?
Normal.
I stared.
"You—" My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. "You could do that?"
She tilted her head. "Yes."
"Why didn't you do that first?"
She blinked slowly. "You didn't ask."
I had no response. None that wouldn't get me killed. I pressed my lips together until the frustration turned into something like a laugh.
Tohka looked satisfied, as if she'd won something.
Then she asked again, like we were back on track: "Where are we going."
I opened my mouth—
—and my hand rose to my ear without me thinking.
There was nothing there.
No earpiece. No wire. No voice telling me what to do.
My stomach dropped properly this time.
I glanced up, instinctively searching the sky.
No ship.
No camera.
No invisible safety net.
We were alone.
I felt a spike of panic... and then, strangely, it smoothed out. Like a wave that hit a rock and broke.
Huh I was better at controlling my emotions than I thought.
Tohka was watching me, head tilted. "You are... strange."
"Yeah," I muttered. "Tell me about it."
She frowned. "You were thinking again."
I winced. "Sorry."
"Stu~pid," she said again, but the bite was weaker this time.
I looked at her—really looked at her.
Yesterday she'd been a storm. Today she was... still dangerous, still unpredictable, but there was something else under it. Curiosity. A weird kind of honesty.
And when I looked at her, there was this quiet certainty in my chest that didn't feel like logic.
She wasn't here to hurt me.
No more precisely... She wouldn't hurt me
I didn't understand why I felt that so clearly. I just... did. Like i subconsciously judged and plastered the "Not guilty" verdict onto her
"Come on," I said, and started walking.
I didn't get three steps before I realized I was walking too fast.
Tohka's footsteps stopped.
I turned back. "What."
She narrowed her eyes. "Slow."
"...Okay." I slowed down immediately.
She walked up and matched my pace, still glaring like I'd committed a crime against physics.
We walked like that—side by side, perfectly aligned—until the weird tension eased enough that I could breathe again.
It hit me then how strange this was.
Walking with someone. Not running. Not hiding. Not following orders.
Just... walking.
The city around us moved in steady streams. People drifted past in clusters. Cars passed. A dog barked somewhere.
Tohka's attention snapped to every little sound like she was tracking threats. She stared at a group of teenagers laughing like they were suspicious.
"Why are there so many," she muttered.
"Because it's a city," I said.
Her gaze stayed sharp. "They are... gathering."
"It's not an army," I said, trying not to sound like I was lecturing her. "They're just... living."
Tohka's fingers twitched.
Small spheres of light—faint, shimmering—began to form around her hand like she was preparing something.
I immediately stepped closer. "Hey. It's okay."
Her eyes flicked to me, wary.
"They're not here for you," I said, voice low. "No one even knows who you are."
She hesitated.
Then, slowly, the light spheres faded like she'd blown out candles.
I swallowed, relieved. "Good."
She watched me for a long moment. "You are not afraid."
It wasn't a question.
I should've lied. Probably. A normal person would've lied.
But my mouth moved before my brain could polish it. "I don't know what I am."
Her eyes narrowed. "That makes no sense."
"I know." I let out a breath, then gave her a small, awkward shrug. "I'm working on it."
For some reason, her expression softened—just a fraction. Like she accepted "doesn't make sense" as my natural state.
We kept walking.
Then her head snapped toward the air like something had punched her senses.
She inhaled.
And her entire posture changed.
"What," I started—
Her stomach growled, loud enough that a woman passing us glanced over.
Tohka's cheeks went pink again. She looked away sharply, offended like her body had betrayed her.
I tried very hard not to smile. I failed.
She whipped her head back. "Do not laugh."
"I'm not laughing," I lied again.
Her eyes narrowed further.
Then she inhaled again, slowly, like she was tracking a scent trail.
"...That," she said, voice suddenly intense. "That smell."
I followed her gaze.
A bakery.
Warm air drifted out every time the door opened. The smell of bread hit me too, comforting and simple.
Tohka stared at it like it was holy.
"You're hungry," I said.
"I am not—" She stopped mid-denial when her stomach growled again.
I raised an eyebrow.
She glared at me as if this was my fault. Then, stiffly: "Yes."
I pointed at the bakery. "Then... let's go in."
She hesitated like entering a building made of glass and sugar was a tactical risk.
Then she stepped forward, decisive, and pushed the door open with way too much enthusiasm.
A little bell chimed.
Warm air wrapped around us.
Tohka's eyes widened.
For one heartbeat, she looked... happy.
And the thought hit me, sharp and simple:
This is the date.
Not the word. Not the concept.
Just... being here.
⸻
I stood half a block away, partially behind a pole, watching the street with trained stillness.
Itsuka Shidou.
He was walking beside a girl.
That alone was enough to trigger suspicion. Shidou didn't walk beside girls. He barely walked beside people. He drifted through crowds like a ghost who didn't want to be touched.
Then the girl turned her head slightly, and the light caught her face.
Recognition clicked.
A Spirit.
No spacequake. No alarms. No AST deployment order on my phone. The city was functioning normally.
My eyes narrowed.
Shidou and a Spirit in public with no alert meant one of two things:
Either She was A lookalike
Or something was wrong with detection.
It was unlikely she was a lookalike. I couldn't mistake that face anywhere
I checked my phone again.
Nothing.
I pressed the call button.
"AST command," I said when the line connected.
A pause. "This is the communications desk."
"I need an observation unit," I said. "One. Location: Tenguu Avenue near the school district. Possible Spirit sighting. No quake detected."
Silence.
Then, guarded: "We have no reports."
"I am making one," I replied.
"Identify yourself."
"Tobiichi," I said, and waited.
A short exhale on the other end—recognition. "Understood. One observation unit will be dispatched. Maintain distance."
"I am maintaining distance," I said, and ended the call.
Shidou and the Spirit went into a bakery.
I memorized the door.
⸻
The café on Tengu Avenue was doing its best impression of "normal."
The street outside still looked bruised from yesterday—cordoned-off sidewalks, taped windows, a couple of bored-looking adults in reflective vests pretending the cracks in the asphalt weren't a big deal. But inside, the air smelled like sugar and roasted beans. Plates clinked. People laughed too loudly, like they could drown out the memory of the tremor with sheer effort.
Reine sat across from me like she belonged here, even with her half-lidded eyes and that calm, neutral expression that made it feel like she'd been born in a lab. Her cup of sweet apple tea steamed gently. In front of me was a parfait I hadn't ordered but somehow ended up eating anyway—layers of cream, fruit, and something pink that Reine insisted was raspberry.
"It's good," I muttered, spooning up another bite.
Reine watched me chew like she was taking notes. "It is."
"Don't stare at me. It makes me feel like you're trying to calculate my calories."
"I am."
I clicked my tongue and tried to look annoyed. It mostly worked. It always mostly worked. I had practice.
Outside, through the glass, the school district's "Closed Due to Damage" sign was still taped to a nearby pole. I was in my middle school uniform and I had taken the walk to school today just for it to be closed due to the spirit damages.
Soon after I called Reine for a bite to eat, hence we are here
I shifted in my chair and crossed my legs, letting my skirt settle. "School's closed," I said, like I was making conversation. "So I invited you out. That's all."
Reine's eyes drifted to the street, then back to me. "That is not all."
My spoon froze again. "Oh? And what is it, then? You think I'm lonely?"
Reine's tone didn't change. "You are avoiding the ship."
I felt my jaw tighten before I could stop it. "I am taking a break."
"You are not a person who takes breaks."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her she didn't know me. I wanted to say I was fourteen and I was allowed to eat sweets in the middle of the day without it turning into a strategy meeting.
But Reine had this way of saying things that made the air feel heavier. Like she wasn't accusing you—she was simply describing you.
I took a sip of my drink. It was too sweet. "What do you want?"
Reine rested her cheek against her hand. "I want to ask you something."
"That's what 'what do you want' usually means," I snapped, then sighed. "Fine. Ask."
Reine didn't even flinch. "Why did you choose Itsuka Shidou as the negotiator?"
My stomach sank, even though I'd known it was coming the second she sat down.
I stared at my parfait like the answer might be buried under the cream. "That's not... something we discuss in cafés."
"It is quiet," Reine said, then glanced around, unbothered. "Also, humans have loud conversations in cafés frequently."
"Not about classified operations."
Reine took a careful sip of her tea. "You can decline."
I hated that. I hated that she always gave you the out, because then it felt like your decision was the only thing that mattered. Not the pressure. Not the situation. Just you, standing in front of a door you could choose not to open.
I set my spoon down. "You're going to ask again later."
"Yes."
I clicked my tongue a second time, because it was either that or admit she had me.
"Promise me you won't tell anyone," I said.
Reine's expression didn't change. "I won't."
"Not even the crew."
"I won't."
My fingers curled around the edge of the table. "Shidou isn't... blood. He's adopted."
Reine's eyes lowered slightly in a way that meant she was listening—not just hearing.
"He was... found," I said, the words rougher than I expected. "Abandoned. Our parents took him in."
Reine waited. She always waited. She never rushed you. It was infuriating and—worse—safe.
I continued. "When he was younger, he... wasn't okay. He smiled, he talked, he did the whole 'good kid' thing, but it was like he was... hollow. Like he'd already decided the world didn't want him."
Reine's voice was soft. "Despair."
I hated that she had a neat word for it.
"Yes," I said. "That."
I rubbed my thumb against my fingernail, a habit I'd developed without meaning to. "He was the kind of kid who would hear someone cry in the next room and start moving before he thought about it. Not because he wanted praise. Not because he wanted to be a hero. He just... couldn't not."
Reine tilted her head. "So you believe he is suitable because he is kind."
"Don't make it sound stupid," I snapped, then caught myself, then exhaled. "It isn't just kindness. It's... he sees people. He doesn't look at them like problems."
Reine's gaze stayed steady. "That is emotional reasoning. I am asking operational reasoning."
There it was.
I narrowed my eyes. "You're saying my answer isn't good enough."
"I am saying it is incomplete."
I wanted to throw my spoon at her.
Instead, I leaned forward and lowered my voice. "Shidou has a way of making people... relax. Even when he has no right to. Even when he's terrified. He says dumb things. He stumbles. He's awkward. And somehow... it makes other people feel like they're allowed to be human."
Reine's expression flickered the tiniest bit. Interest. "So his weakness is his tool."
"Basically," I muttered.
Reine tapped her finger against her cup. "And you believe that tool will work on Spirits."
"I've seen it work," I said, then realized I'd said it too quickly and clenched my jaw. "Not just on Spirits. On friends . On our parents. On strangers. It's... infuriating."
Reine nodded once. "Then the reason is: he lowers hostility."
"Yes," I said. "And because when someone is hurting, he reaches out like it's reflex. Spirits are... hurting. In ways most people don't understand."
Reine's eyes narrowed slightly. "And what if his reflex gets him killed?"
I laughed once, sharp and humorless. "Then we're all screwed."
Reine didn't smile. "What exactly is he?"
Huh...
That question didn't mean "what is his personality." It didn't mean "what is his background." It meant: what is he, in the way Ratatoskr needed to know.
I stared at her, then looked away, out at the street. A man walked by holding his daughter's hand. The little girl hopped over a crack in the sidewalk like it was lava. The man smiled like everything was fine.
"I don't know," I admitted, quieter. "Not fully."
Reine's voice stayed even. "I assessed him."
I whipped my gaze back. "Don't say it like that. You make it sound like you dissected him."
"I did not dissect him," Reine replied. "I observed. I measured. I compared. He is... unusually effective."
"That's not an answer."
"It is the most honest one I have," Reine said.
I hated that, too.
I opened my mouth to argue—and then a voice drifted from behind Reine, bright and excited.
"This smells good!"
My spine went cold.
I didn't need to turn. I knew that voice. I'd heard it through fire. Through alarms. Through the awful quiet right before a spacequake.
I turned anyway.
Behind Reine, at a small table that hadn't been there a second ago—or maybe I just hadn't noticed—Shidou sat with a girl in a school uniform.
A girl with long purple hair, a posture too confident for an ordinary student, and eyes that didn't belong to anyone who'd grown up here.
Tohka.
My throat tightened so hard I almost choked on air.
Shidou was saying something, smiling nervously, while Tohka leaned forward like a kid discovering the concept of pastries for the first time.
Reine blinked slowly, then turned her head. Her tea cup paused halfway to her lips.
For a full second, neither of us moved.
...
I slammed my hands onto the table. "What is she doing here?"
Reine's eyes were still on them. "The spirits here."
"No. No, no, no." I grabbed my phone, fingers flying. No alerts. No crew messages. No detection warning. Nothing. "Ratatoskr didn't—"
Reine's voice was flat. "She did not set off the alarm"
Behind Reine, Shidou was gesturing awkwardly at the menu. Tohka looked delighted. Like this was the safest place in the world.
My stomach turned.
I leaned forward, listening. Shidou was muttering about money—he sounded embarrassed. Tohka said something with too much confidence and too little understanding.
"I'll gather funds," she declared, loud enough that I could hear it clearly.
Shidou nearly fell out of his chair. "N-no! Please don't gather anything!"
My eye twitched.
That was it. That was the moment.
Shidou, alone, with a Spirit, in public, with no comms, no camera—about to lose control of the situation because Tohka thought "money" was something you could just... take.
I stood so fast my chair scraped.
Reine looked up at me. "Kotori."
My hand went to my hair. I tied my black ribbons tighter, the motion practiced and sharp. It wasn't superstition. It was a switch. A signal to myself.
Commander mode.
"Emergency," I said, voice low. "Now."
Reine's expression didn't change, but her posture shifted. "Agreed."
I pressed a finger to my phone, connecting to the network.
"Ratatoskr," I said. "All hands. Immediately to stations."
Reine blinked once. "You're initiating F-08."
"I am," I snapped. "We don't have time to pretend this is a coincidence."
On the other end, I could feel the ship waking up like a beast being poked with a spear.
"Strategy Code F-08," I said, clear and cold. "Operation: Tengu's Holiday."
There was a beat of stunned silence. Then voices overlapping—confusion, questions, panic.
I cut through them. "No voice comms. No direct orders to Shidou. We support from the shadows. Blend in. Don't be stupid."
Someone—probably one of the newer operators—made a nervous sound. I narrowed my eyes. "If any of you blow cover, I will personally throw you out of the airlock."
Reine rose smoothly. "I will take the register."
"You'll look ridiculous."
"I will look harmless."
"Fine," I muttered. My fingers snapped open a lollipop from my pocket—Chupa Chups, strawberry—because my hands needed something to do besides shake.
Reine stepped toward the counter like this was just another day.
I watched Shidou laugh awkwardly at something Tohka said. The sight made my chest twist in a way I refused to acknowledge.
"Now," I whispered, mostly to myself, "let our battle commence."
⸻
By the time I reached the register, my wallet already felt lighter.
Tohka didn't notice. She was still staring at the pastry display like it was a religious experience.
"We should get that one," she said, pointing. "And that one. And that one."
Shidou. Breathe. Smile. Normal.
"Okay," I managed. "We'll... start with two."
She leaned closer, suspicious. "Why only two?"
"Because humans die if they eat too much bread."
"That is false."
"It's... ugh..."
I wish I brought more money
Her eyes narrowed, then she shrugged like she'd decided humans were just confusing creatures and moved on.
I handed the cashier the tray. My eyes flicked up—
—and my brain stopped.
The cashier was Reine.
Reine was in a frilly uniform, with a little stuffed bear on the counter, looking like she'd been hired by the café's manager to play "cute girl who doesn't want to be here."
I froze hard enough that the line behind me shifted impatiently.
Tohka's posture changed instantly. She wasn't glaring yet, but it was close—like an animal sensing a trap.
"Shidou," she said, low. "Who is that."
My mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Reine's eyes met mine, as calm as ever. "Welcome."
Tohka's fingers twitched.
"N-no," I blurted, too loud. People turned. I swallowed and forced myself smaller. "She's... she's just a cashier. That's all."
Tohka stared at Reine like she could burn her with suspicion.
Reine didn't blink. She rang up the total. Her movements were smooth, normal, absurdly professional.
"Three thousand," she said flatly.
My soul tried to leave my body. That was most of what I had left.
I paid anyway. Because what else was I going to do? Tell Tohka we had to leave because I was broke?
The receipt printed out with a soft whirr.
Reine slid it toward me. "Please."
My eyes dropped automatically—and my breath caught.
There was a line of text that did not belong on a café receipt.
'We will support you. Continue your date naturally.'
For a second, everything inside my chest loosened.
Not because it made the situation less ridiculous—God, it was ridiculous—but because I wasn't alone.
I'd been pretending I could handle this. Pretending I could navigate a "date" with a girl who could level a city block if she got annoyed. I had no money and no plan despite my want to make her happy.
And now, in the dumbest way possible—on a receipt—help had arrived.
Tohka leaned in, trying to read it. "What is that."
"Nothing," I said too fast, then forced a smile. "Just... boring human stuff."
Reine tapped the counter lightly and pushed something else toward me.
A raffle ticket.
"Go there," she said, and her voice—her real voice—slipped through the disguise for half a second. "They are drawing soon."
Tohka's eyes lit up. "What is that."
"It's... a game," I said carefully. "You might win something."
Her face brightened like I'd flipped a switch. "Win."
She grabbed my sleeve and hauled me toward the exit with terrifying enthusiasm.
I stumbled, still holding the receipt like it was a lifeline.
As we left, I glanced back once. Reine was already looking down, scanning the next customer like I was just another transaction.
Somewhere, somehow, Ratatoskr had latched onto our day like a parasite.
And honestly?
I was grateful.
The raffle stand was set up like a festival booth—long table, colorful banner, a cheap spinning drum, workers in happi coats calling out to passersby.
Tohka marched up like she owned the place.
"I will win," she declared.
"That's... not guaranteed," I said.
She spun toward me, offended. "Do you doubt me."
"Yes," I said automatically, then winced. "I mean—no. I mean—maybe. I mean—"
Tohka stared until I shut up.
The worker behind the table smiled too brightly. It was 'On probation Minowa' "One ticket? Please spin!"
I handed it over. Tohka grabbed the drum and spun it like she was trying to tear it off its axis.
A ball popped out.
Red.
A bell rang. Another worker shouted something excited.
"First prize!"
Tohka's face went blank for a second as she processed the words. Then she turned to me slowly. "I won."
"You—" I stared at the red ball, then at her. "You actually won."
Her expression shifted into triumph so pure it almost hurt to look at.
The workers handed her a pair of tickets and a map, talking over each other about "Dreamland" and "a wonderful couple's destination."
Tohka held the tickets like treasure. "Dreamland," she read aloud, careful with the pronunciation.
My eyes scanned the fine print and felt my blood chill.
It was close. Too close. Like someone had placed it exactly where they needed it.
Ratatoskr wasn't just helping.
They were steering.
Tohka grabbed my hand—not to hold it, just to drag me—and we started walking toward the destination on the map.
I tried to keep my smile natural while my brain screamed.
Continue your date naturally.
Sure. Natural. Like a raffle stand handing a Spirit a perfect prize on the exact day Ratatoskr needed momentum.
We reached the building in less than ten minutes.
It looked like a castle. Stone façade. Fancy lights. A giant sign that said DREAMLAND in glittery letters.
Tohka's eyes sparkled. "So this is Dreamland."
I stared at the smaller sign near the entrance.
Rest. Stay. Prices.
My soul left my body again, this time out of sheer horror.
"Nope," I said instantly.
Tohka blinked. "What."
"We're not going in there," I said, stepping in front of her like I could physically block the building with my body.
"Why not," she demanded, bristling.
Because it's a love hotel. Because it's not a theme park. Because Ratatoskr is trying to shove you into something you don't even understand.
I swallowed my anger until it burned.
Outwardly, I forced my voice calm. "It's... not what you think. It's for adults. For... couples."
Tohka tilted her head. "We are a couple."
My blush crept up. "I m-mean two people. Like... a pair. Not... that kind."
She stared, confused.
My hands clenched at my sides.
Inside, something hot and sharp rose up—real fury, clean and furious.
Not at Tohka.
At them.
At Ratatoskr, at Kotori, at whoever thought this was funny. At whoever thought it was acceptable to shove Tohka—who didn't even understand "date" yesterday—into a place like this like it was just another step on a chart.
It felt immoral. It felt gross.
Tohka wasn't a target. She wasn't a meter to stabilize. She was... a person trying to figure out the world.
I forced my face back into something neutral before Tohka could notice how hard my jaw was shaking.
"Not today," I said firmly. "We can do something else."
Tohka's lips pressed together. For a moment, I thought she might insist—might stomp her foot, might light the ground on fire out of frustration.
Instead, she looked away, annoyed. "Humans are complicated."
"Yes," I muttered. "We really are."
I glanced upward, not at the sky exactly, but at the feeling of being watched.
If Kotori was anywhere nearby—
I didn't say it out loud. I just held the glare in my head and hoped it reached her.
Then I turned and guided Tohka away from Dreamland before the workers could come out and "suggest" we try again.
The street widened into a busier stretch—more people, more storefronts, more noise.
Tohka stayed close. Not frightened, exactly, but alert, like she expected something to attack her from the crowd.
"You are... breathing fast," she said, watching me.
I blinked. I hadn't noticed. "I'm fine."
She frowned. "You are not."
I exhaled slowly. "I just... got annoyed. About something."
"Tohka is not annoying," she said immediately, sharp.
My heart did something stupid. "No. You're not."
She studied me like she was trying to decide if I was lying.
I tried to find the words. "I was thinking about my sister in the sky.."
Tohka's posture changed like I'd slapped her. Her eyes widened. "Sister... in the sky."
I froze.
She said it like it was a funeral.
"No—wait—" I stammered. "She's not—she's fine. She's alive. She's—"
Tohka's expression softened into something solemn. "Humans send their loved ones to the sky."
"That's... not—" I squeezed my eyes shut. "I worded that wrong. I meant... she's somewhere right now."
Tohka stared, then slowly, very slowly, her face eased. "Ah."
I exhaled in relief. "Sorry."
She nodded like she was filing the concept away under "humans say stupid things sometimes."
We walked a few more steps before a girl approached, smiling brightly.
"Pocket tissues!" she chirped, holding out a pack. "Please take one!"
I blinked, instinctively reaching out. "Uh... thanks."
Tohka took it from my hand immediately and inspected it like it was an artifact. "What is this."
"It's... advertising," I said. "They give you tissues so you remember the store."
Tohka flipped it over.
On the wrapper was a picture of a couple holding hands with cheerful text.
If you're happy, hold hands!
Tohka stared at it, then at me. "Happy."
I felt my ears heat up. "It's... a saying."
We passed an electronics store, and the sound of a loud, cheerful voice spilled out from a wall of televisions.
"...and that's why holding hands is the most important step of any relationship!"
I stopped dead.
Tohka's head snapped toward the sound.
On the screens were people I recognized.
Not faces I saw every day—but faces I'd seen on monitors. Operators. Crew. Ratatoskr staff wearing bright outfits like they were hosts on a daytime talk show.
One of them pointed dramatically at the camera. "A date without hand-holding is like soup without salt!"
Another nodded gravely. "It's scientifically proven. Holding hands connects hearts."
Around us, couples started appearing. One couple. Two. Then five, then ten—everywhere, suddenly, like the entire street had decided today was "public affection day."
They walked by holding hands, smiling too brightly, laughing too loudly, repeating phrases that sounded suspiciously scripted.
"Holding hands is nice!"
"It feels like our hearts are connected!"
"Tohka, look! Our hands!"
I stared in disbelief as a couple nearly bumped into us, hand-in-hand, grinning.
Ratatoskr. They were... broadcasting a tutorial. In public. Like this was a game.
I should've been mad.
Maybe I was, a little.
But after the hotel stunt, this was almost... harmless. Almost funny.
And more than that—Tohka was watching the couples with open curiosity, like she was trying to learn the rules of the world from whatever evidence she could find.
I looked at her.
She looked back.
"Shidou," she said slowly. "Is holding hands nice..?."
My heart jumped. "Holding hands... is nice yes.."
She pointed at the tissue pack. "Happy."
Then she pointed at the televisions. "Important."
Then she pointed at the couples. "Everyone."
I laughed once, helpless. "Okay. Okay, I get it."
I lifted my hand awkwardly between us, palm half-open, like I was offering her something fragile.
"Do you... want to hold hands?" I asked, and the question came out softer than I intended.
Tohka stared at my hand, then at my face. "Why?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. There was no perfect explanation. There was only the truth.
"Because..." I said, then took a breath. "Because it feels... nice. And because it might make you feel less alone."
Tohka's eyes widened slightly. Not in surprise—more like she hadn't expected that kind of answer.
Her hand hovered for a second.
Mine waited patiently
Then she grabbed it.
Not gently. Not timidly. Just—firm, decisive, like she'd decided it was hers now.
Warmth shot up my arm like electricity.
Tohka looked down at our hands and made a small sound. "Nn."
I tried not to smile too widely. I failed.
It wasn't just "mission progress." It wasn't just "stabilizing affection." It was—
It was simple.
It was real.
I liked it. A lot more than I thought I would.
Tohka glanced up at me and frowned. "Your face is strange."
"I'm fine," I said quickly.
"It is... stupid," she declared, but there was no heat in it. The word came out almost fond.
I laughed under my breath. "You're one to talk."
She squeezed my hand once, like she was testing it.
"You're the one with the ridiculous joke stuff..." she muttered
My chest felt lighter.
Behind us, the televisions kept blaring. Couples kept chanting. Ratatoskr's "date support" was about as subtle as a marching band.
And for once, I didn't care.
If this ridiculous help made Tohka feel safe—if it made her smile—then fine.
I'd take it.
We walked forward, hand-in-hand, weaving through the crowd.
For a while, the world almost felt normal.
Then the street ended.
A construction barricade blocked the path completely—bright orange cones, steel plates, a sign that said ROAD CLOSED.
I stopped. "Seriously?"
Tohka tilted her head. "Closed."
"We can go another way," I said, turning us right.
Two steps later: another barricade. DO NOT ENTER.
I turned back. "Okay, then left—"
Another block. Another sign. Another set of cones.
A man in a hard hat stood nearby, holding a clipboard. His posture was too stiff. His gaze flicked toward us too quickly.
I stared.
I recognized him.
Not by name, not even by face exactly—but by that same "trying to look normal while absolutely not normal" energy I'd seen on Ratatoskr crew members a hundred times.
My eye twitched.
Tohka tugged my hand. "Shidou."
"It's fine," I said automatically, forcing my voice calm. "Just... construction."
We tried backtracking.
Blocked.
Every route was sealed like the city itself had decided it wanted us to go somewhere specific.
Only one path remained.
Left.
The man with the clipboard subtly angled his body that way, pretending it was coincidence.
I squeezed Tohka's hand, not to reassure her—she wasn't scared yet—but to remind myself to stay steady.
Ratatoskr was funneling us.
A one-way maze.
I could either make it obvious and spook Tohka... or play along and keep her calm.
I chose calm.
I looked down at her. "Let's go this way."
Tohka nodded, unconcerned, trusting.
We stepped onto the left path together, hand-in-hand, walking into whatever Ratatoskr had built for us next.
And despite everything—the ridiculous TV propaganda, the love hotel stunt that still made anger simmer under my ribs, the way the street itself felt staged—
I also felt a strange..... dread. Like something bad was going to happen..
I shook my head
I was not going to believe that
Tohka is here with me
Tohka's hand in mine was warm.
And I was genuinely, stupidly happy to be here with her.