"Ahh, that hits the spot—gaming’s the best, like sliding through a river of neon."

Maya Hanazaka wore a satisfied, cat-stretched grin as she finally let go, then walked out of the game center under a tide of stares—three parts stunned, two parts speechless, five parts awe, like moths pinned by light.

"Ugh, why do I feel like I’m just an extra?" Sham grumbled, his words pattering like cold drizzle on tin.

"Let’s head home; we still gotta buy groceries," Yun Shi said, calm as dusk water with market steam curling in mind.

Yun Shi ignored Sham’s gripe and drifted out, quiet as a passing cloud. Mizuki hugged the plush someone had gifted, content like a cat in a sunbeam, while Mizuki kept herself composed, a snowfield unruffled, not stirring any trouble.

"My place is that way, so let’s split here," the refined young lady said, voice like a windchime under the streetlamp’s forked paths.

"Hehe, I’m going to Mizuki’s for dinner. Bye, Little Yun!" chirped the foodie girl, fluttering like a sparrow chasing crumbs.

At the corner, the prim-and-proper lady and the girl in full foodie mode waved, their hands like paper fans cutting the evening air.

"Then let’s go too," Miyuki Kiseki reminded, soft as a bell in a quiet temple.

"Why is that damn sissy even here!" Maya burst out, her words like thorns in her eye.

"My place is this direction," Yun Shi said, pointing down a wind-brushed street.

Yun Shi couldn’t be bothered to argue with a yuri girl; her urge to blow up melted like morning mist, and for Mizuki’s sake she let it go.

Maya Hanazaka was annoyed, but she had no room to talk; she bit down the words like a cat swallowing a fishbone, because her good friend seemed close to this "sissy," and making a scene would backfire like a kicked beehive.

It’s fine, just a cross-dresser—not one of those stinky men; I can endure, she told herself, pinching her pride like holding her nose through smoke.

"Today was a blast. And you, Yunshi?" she asked, her cheer fading like fireworks into ash.

"Me? I’m fine. I don’t hate it," Yun Shi said, voice flat as still water.

Damn—fire sparks I can swallow, but this heat I can’t, Maya fumed, heat rippling off her like simmering oil.

Her cute face twisted into a scary mask; a dark haze rose behind her like smoke from a kiln, and something metallic flashed in her hand with cold silver light.

"Maya, what’s wrong?" Mizuki asked, tilting her head like a curious bird.

"Ah? Nothing, hehe..." Maya laughed dryly, her chuckle rustling like paper.

"Mm? By the way, Mizuki, your necklace is so cute—where’d you buy it?" she said, eyes caught by a gleam like a drop of moonlight on jade.

She tossed the question like a pebble, trying to divert the stream from jagged rocks.

"Oh, that. I bought it in an old shop," Mizuki said, memory stirring like dust motes in a sunbeam. "The seller was odd, but it was cheap."

Miyuki Kiseki seemed to recall something; her expression turned a bit stiff, like someone caught in a sudden drizzle.

"Oh? That so?"

"Yes."

"Disappointing," Maya sighed, her word falling like a deflated balloon.

"I’m heading back—I’m about to miss my train," Maya said, glancing toward the rails like a clock hand chasing its mark.

"See you tomorrow, Maya," Mizuki waved, a soft leaf against evening air.

"Tomorrow. And Yunshi Bianqi, if you dare try anything, I don’t mind adding a corpse to tomorrow’s headlines!" she snapped, killing intent glinting cold as steel.

So scary—best not provoke her, Yun Shi swore, carving a boundary in her heart like a line on stone.

"She left again..." Miyuki Kiseki murmured, her words drifting like a wind-sigh.

It was Mizuki’s first time walking home with the opposite sex (?), and unease tangled like two umbrellas catching in a narrow lane.

All the way, both were awkward, their silence like frost on a window with nothing to write.

"Uh..." After a long stretch, Yun Shi spoke, hesitation fluttering like moth wings at a lamp.

"Mm," Mizuki answered softly, a pebble dropping into a pond.

"I..." Yun Shi’s voice caught like a snagged thread, then she steadied herself, eyes averted like clouds avoiding the moon. After a beat, she pulled a small, white, fluffy thing from her bag, a snow-puff in her palm.

"—!" Mizuki blinked, surprised; it was a little plush, cute in its smallness, a white rabbit soft as fresh snow—irresistible, like sweetness to most girls.

"I didn’t know what you like, so I just grabbed the best-looking bunny," Yun Shi said, biting her lip as if holding back a storm, trying to keep her tone smooth while nerves buzzed like wires.

"It’s… an apology. Don’t get the wrong idea," she murmured, head bowed, bangs veiling her eyes like rain chains on an eave.

"Anyway, I said too much today… so, yeah," she added, words stumbling like loose stones.

Mizuki stared, surprised—this was her first time seeing Yun Shi like this, a hard mountain suddenly blooming like spring.

"Shut it! Just take it and be grateful!" Yun Shi blurted, voice sharp as a flicked switch, then shoved the plush into Mizuki’s arms and turned away, though she kept darting glances like little fish flitting in a current.

"Thank you..." Mizuki said, her cheeks warming like dawn tinting a snowy ridge, happiness kindling like a small stove in winter.

"We… are friends, right?" she asked, her words gentle as falling snow.

"Whatever… suit yourself," Yun Shi muttered, pretend-casual, like a cat showing its back while its tail flicks.

"Can I call you by your name?" Mizuki asked, steadying the tremor in her heart like smoothing a fluttering leaf.

"Call me… Yun. Just that one syllable," Yun Shi said, the sound clear as a bell.

"Then… Yun-kun," Mizuki tried, the honorific soft as spun sugar.

"Mm. Call me that," Yun Shi agreed, a reed nodding in a light breeze.

"Okay… Yun-kun," Mizuki echoed, her whisper threading the streetlights like silk.

They walked in silence, leaves drifting around their footsteps like quiet thoughts.

At the parting, Miyuki Kiseki’s face was red and unnatural, her heart pounding like a festival drum, breath quick as sparrows; it eased only after she reached home.

As for Yun Shi, tension pricked like pins, but a rare smile touched her lips, moonlight slipping onto water.

Finally handed it off—so nerve-wracking, she thought, shoulders loosening like a bow unstrung.

—

Night fell; a bright moon hung like a silver coin, and its spill of light revealed what the dark tried to hide, like a curtain pulled back on a second face.

In a forgotten corner, a blood-scented knife slipped to the ground with a clear chime, like ice cracking on stone.

If anyone were here, they would scream; bodies sprawled at ugly angles, sodden with red, their broken forms telling of pain like torn flags in a storm.

"Tch. Trash."

A towering young man spat with contempt, his look old to cruelty, the spit dark as wet dust.

"Quit playing. These cheap lives all end the same; pile too many and cleanup’s a pain," his partner, a young woman, said as she kicked a corpse across the floor in one clean motion, boots whispering like reeds.

"I know. Any news? I sent so many into that damn school for a month, and still nothing. You sure?" he asked, irritation coiling like smoke.

"I’m sure. The fluctuation is there," she said, certainty solid as a stone under the stream.

"It better be. The Outer World already smells this. If you still can’t produce…" his words trailed, a blade’s edge catching light.

"…"

"Don’t blame me when I stop pulling punches, Anlise De Eilte," he said, and a wave of killing intent rolled out, shattering the calm air like glass; a passing rat fled as if its shadow caught fire.

The man stopped caring about anyone, striding past her like a drawn sword cutting through cloth.

"It’s an order," he tossed back, cold as iron.

At that, the woman laughed instead of angering, scorn curling like a red ribbon in black wind.

Staring at the heap of dead, she chuckled, eyes bright like wildfire sparks.

"An Artifact Spirit has this much pull—if it triggers a war, wouldn’t that be fun? Hahaha…" Her laughter rang manic, rage laced through it like oil feeding a blaze; once lit, who could stop it?

"Show yourself, holder of the Second Soul Artifact! This lady ain’t scared of you, bastard!" she shouted, voice knifing the night like a hawk’s cry.

Above, calm dark clouds briefly blushed with a stain of red, blood on silk that vanished in a blink, like a wound hidden by the wind.