After skimming past the Flashblade System like a pebble skipping a pond, Ling Yi painted their convenience-store brawl in bright fireworks, piling spice onto every beat until they won.

Strangely, even though she’d been shoved into the spotlight before an old acquaintance, Yekase felt a cool breeze of relief—because, of course, Ling Yi knew to hide a secret tool.

Is this what successful training feels like, like a kite finally catching wind?

By the dining table, Yekase shivered like a reed in a night breeze.

“Yekase, you give off such a mature air,” Ling Yi’s mother said, smiling like sunlight through bamboo.

“Uh? Mm… it’s because I live alone…” Her voice shrank like a candle’s flame in a draft.

Why did the topic pivot like a weathervane in a squall? Is this some etiquette to offer guests a warm lantern of attention?

“Living independently since high school, that’s impressive,” the mother said, voice steady as an old pine.

“Sometimes it’s fine,” Yekase murmured, like a stone trying not to ripple a pond.

“Do you have siblings?” The words fell softly, like snow.

“No,” she said, a single leaf on a branch.

“Hmm… then that’s odd,” Ling Yi’s mother frowned, like a cloud gathering at dusk. “I have a faint impression of your shirt.”

Yekase’s heart skipped like a drum under thunder.

“What… impression?” Her breath hovered like mist over water.

“I’m an HR manager at a small trading firm,” the mother said, tone even as a calm river. “About six years ago, a young man joined us. He wore that exact shirt. Not long ago, he was caught in a battle between heroes and the Sinister Organization, and vanished in a sea of fire…”

—?! Her mind flashed like lightning behind storm clouds.

“Um… lots of shirts look like this, right?” Her smile quivered like thin ice.

“It feels different,” the mother said, sure as a compass needle.

“Feels…” The word hung like a wind chime without wind.

“Our company’s small, so I remember everyone,” she went on, gaze sharp as a hunting hawk. “The things they used, the clothes they wore—I can spot them at a glance. That’s HR’s special trick.”

Is this still HR, or a bloodhound in human skin? Where was this nose when the Organization prowled like wolves?

“Maybe… because I buy some clothes from the secondhand market…” Yekase said, voice like a thread in the rain.

“Mm, let’s not talk about that,” the mother said, dropping it like a pebble into tall grass.

Weren’t you the one who tossed that stone into the water?

She checked the clock. It was already nine-thirty, night deep as ink.

“It’s late. Why isn’t she back yet…” The worry curled like smoke.

“I’ll call her,” Ling Yi said, fishing out her phone with one hand while her chopsticks kept digging like a sparrow pecking grain. She turned to Yekase with a gentle glance like moonlight. “I’ve got a sister a year younger—Ling Ya. She’s usually well-behaved and sharp, but lately she keeps slipping out. Sometimes she comes back hurt… We ask, she won’t say. We’re worried she’s in trouble.”

Slipping out for unknown reasons, returning with bruises, and keeping it all locked like a sealed box—Yekase knew that winter script by heart.

That’s classic hero behavior, like a vigil candle hidden in a shrine; members of the Sinister Organization have fixed hours unless they volunteer for overtime.

“Hey? Ya-ya, where are you this late? Dinner’s going cold. We’ve got sea cucumber soup, and a guest at home… Out playing with friends? Why not say so earlier… Fine, come back soon!”

The call ended with a soft click, like a door in fog.

“That’s that,” Ling Yi said, helplessness wilting like a drooping flower.

Seeing this, her mother quickly ladled two bowls of soup, steam curling like white silk.

Yekase’s thoughts began mapping Twin Towers City like stars across a night chart, trying to slot this sixteen-year-old into any “out with friends” young-hero crew.

Magic Hunters? They only have one woman, and she’s past twenty, a lone moon among lanterns.

Iron Seven? They never leave their base, a fortress shut like winter stone.

Exorcist Nuns? No new sisters in four or five years, a convent with sealed gates.

Sword of Lily? Their vetting’s strict as iron gates; with parents in the Sinister Organization, the door’s a wall.

…No, nothing fit; her guesses scattered like sparrows.

In a world overrun by the Sinister Organization, the first law for a would-be hero is to hide like a fox in snow. Yekase only knew them as enemies by shadow and rumor; many hid so well even their names vanished like footprints in rain, so her aim was fog at best.

“I’m full. Thanks for the meal…” Her words settled like warm steam.

“Me too! We’re gonna head to my room,” Ling Yi said, looping an arm around Yekase’s neck like a playful vine and tugging her along.

“Don’t exercise right after you—”

Wham!

The last two words were shut outside like wind behind a slammed gate.

Great soundproofing, like heavy drapes over thunder.

Ling Yi flashed a V-sign, then set two round cushions on the floor, sitting first like a cat claiming sun.

“Doc, any thoughts about Ya-ya?” Her eyes were two quiet wells.

“Thoughts…” The word rippled like a pebble on water.

Should she share that guess? With no solid proof, it’d only pour worry like rain into their sleeves…

“So Ya-ya joined the Sinister Organization, right?” Ling Yi blurted, eyes widening like dawn.

“Uh?” The sound cracked like a twig.

“Sometimes the call doesn’t go through, sometimes she bolts out, sometimes she comes back hurt… That screams fighting! Just like what the Sinister Organization does!” Her voice leapt like sparks.

“The Sinister Organization doesn’t just roam the streets brawling with high school girls for fun! …Uh.” The slip fell like a mask in a gust.

Oops, she’d griped like an insider who knew the gears behind the wall—

“You’re right. They’re villains, but they keep villain rules,” Ling Yi said, nodding like a willow in wind.

“Anyway, when the boat reaches the bridge, it’ll cross,” she added, grin bright as sunrise. “Doc, guess why I dragged you in here?”

“W-what?” The air tightened like a drum skin.

That déjà vu hit like a wave; Yekase stood to bolt, but Ling Yi pinned her at the bed’s edge like a gate slamming shut.

“Obviously, it’s Step Two of turning Doc into a top-tier cutie,” she declared, arms forming a fence like bamboo bars, her breath warm and heavy as summer air against Yekase’s face, danger flaring unlike the store.

“I’ve never heard of that plan! Let me out!” Her protest fluttered like a moth.

But the faux-fragile beauty act met a real sports-girl’s grip; in Ling Yi’s hands, her struggle was an ant against a millstone. Ling Yi hovered and bed-thumped her for a bit, then finally let her go like a tide receding.

Yekase glared with a combatant’s chill, a knife laid flat on stone.

“I’m not upgrading your gear anymore!” The threat rang like steel.

“So scary. So, so scary,” Ling Yi said, utterly unfazed, like rain on lotus leaves. She opened her wardrobe and sorted with quick fingers like sparrows. “Doc’s a better fit for the ‘pure’ style. You could do ‘cute,’ but you always slouch with a deadpan. Doesn’t match the vibe… or maybe that mismatch could hit like a surprise.”

She muttered about “gothic lolita” and “decadent vibe,” words rustling like secret lace, then hauled out a heap of clothes like flags from a trunk.

Yekase gave up fighting and stared at the ceiling light, a moth hypnotized by a moon.

She’d thought leaving home to live alone meant that even as a girl, she could wear a Mickey T-shirt in peace; then fate tossed in Ling Yi like a pebble that starts an avalanche. She’d let her guard down before a robber, and now she’d eat the bitter fruit to the core—

“Okay, we start with underwear. My middle school size should be just right,” Ling Yi said, voice crisp as a bell.

“Huh—? Weren’t we buying them tomorrow?” Yekase squeaked, a quail in brush.

“We’ll buy them tomorrow, but you’re not wearing anything today? I’ll graciously lend you mine. Be grateful and put it on!” Her faux-tsundere tone flicked like a fan.

Yekase wanted to retort, but even that ember went out; she sat, raised her hands like a surrendering warrior, and let Ling Yi peel off her shirt and slip a small camisole over her like morning mist.

Click—

“I sliced some fruit for you two, and Coke—”

Ling Yi’s mother pushed the door open like dawn catching spies.

Yekase and Ling Yi froze mid-camisole, heads turning slowly like weathercocks in no wind.

“Uh, this is…” The words dried up like a pond.

Move, you setting editor! She needed a cover story before the mother’s mind painted storms; spin a tale like she fooled the neighbors with—

…

Nothing. Her head was a whiteout blizzard; no lines, no lies, only the cold. This was a caught-red-handed tableau, a stamp and seal. Who knew she wouldn’t die at a Sinister Organization post, but land in prison for laying hands on a minor in the most mortifying way—

Ling Yi’s mother set the tray down gently, fruit and Coke gleaming like offering plates, then closed the door without a sound, though her face turned aside while her eyes kept sneaking peeks like foxes.

“…”

“…”

The camisole finally slid into place, a sail catching wind.

Ling Yi scooted back a step and knelt properly before Yekase, posture straight as a tea ceremony.

Say something, anything, before the silence grows moss…

“I—I’ll take r-r-responsibility,” she blurted, the words tumbling like beads.

“…Huh?” The single syllable shone like a dropped coin.

“I’ll w-work hard to make Doc happy!” she said, earnest as a vow at a shrine.

Yekase blinked. “Uh, thanks—wait, how did it turn into that?!” Her shout cracked the ice like a thaw.

The stiff air finally flowed again, like a stream after a blockage; both of them gasped, lungs refilling like bellows.

Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter, laughter ringing like wind bells.

When the laughter ebbed, Yekase finally raised the topic she’d wanted to ask all along. “So, Ling Yi. What do you plan to do with the Flashblade System?”

“Do?” Ling Yi glanced down, eyes soft as lake water. “For now… start with helping people, I guess? The next steps…”

She pulled the Sky Striker from her pocket. Without power, it was only a pendant, quiet as a moonstone in her palm.

“I’m just an ordinary high schooler. I’ve never really thought it through. It’ll take a long time to grow the resolve to be a hero. Honestly, I only had a second of courage. When his hand grabbed me, fear hit like cold rain…”

“I know. Otherwise you wouldn’t have invented that genius human-hostage-for-human-hostage tactic,” Yekase said, a wry smile like a tilted umbrella.

“Haha, true…” Ling Yi scratched her head, grin crooked like a crescent moon.

Yekase buttoned her shirt and rose, steadied like a rock in a stream.

“This thing is—and only is—my repayment to you, with no strings,” she said, voice clear as a bell at dawn. “I don’t recommend being a hero. I really don’t recommend doing it just to save face, only to regret it once you step into the underworld behind the curtain.”

“I…” The word trembled like a leaf.

“If you really wanted to be a hero, I’d talk you down,” Yekase added, gentle as rain. “You saved my life.” She closed Ling Yi’s fingers around the Sky Striker, wrapping the device like a seed in warm soil.

“I’ll head out. Good night. You’re welcome to drop by, but not in the morning. I’m sleeping.”

She popped an apple slice into her mouth, crunching like fresh snow, and pushed the door open, the hallway stretching like a quiet road.

“—Wait!” Ling Yi called, voice like a bell in fog.

“?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to be your ‘benefactor’ anymore!” Her words shone like a blade catching sunlight.

“Huh?”

“Instead, I want to be Yekase’s friend! And, if you don’t hate it—could you take what I promised seriously?!” The plea burned like a lantern held high.

She stood there with a flame in her eyes—heroic resolve hard as steel, a will to see things through; and something else too, a color Yekase couldn’t name, like dawn before its first hue.

…

“Sure,” Yekase said, a practiced smile unfolding like a flower.

“Then start by getting to know me.”