After toweling off, Yekase and Ling Yi slipped into the bathhouse’s pink robes and plastic slippers, steam clinging to them like pale mist as they drifted toward the dining area for dinner.
Joy first, then steps: Ling Yi still rode the high from the match, bouncing like a sparrow on springy branches, and Yekase suddenly felt like an old dad—no, an old mom.
The feeling was strange, like a seam rubbing the wrong way.
After making up with Mira—question mark very much intended—the need for a cover identity felt gone, like fog lifting; no one cared whether Dr Ika of that organization lived or died, no one hunted her to the grave.
But she still wore this face, like a mask that wouldn’t unstick; maybe she’d wear it till the end.
It felt like being trapped in a cage she herself had named Yekase, ribs for bars, breath for chains.
Would this body grow later? Would it turn into a girl, outside to inside, like dye sinking into cloth? Would she fall in love, marry someone? The thoughts rushed her like a sudden wave, and she shivered.
“Doctor, are you cold?”
“I’m fine...”
The fact these questions even surfaced—things she’d never once considered—was proof of change, like ice cracking under spring sun.
But she couldn’t accept men, no matter what. Worst case, she’d ride out life alone, a lone lantern on a quiet road. Or, sometimes, ask Shen Shanshan or Jiang Bailu for... help. She felt bleakly certain she’d never meet a second Ivaris.
Her mind jumped to Mira’s story about that foot parlor with bio-aug sisters.
Which parts did they augment...?
No, no. No-no-no-no-no. Way too early for that.
Yekase shook her head hard, scattering the thoughts like sparrows. Ling Yi watched her cycle through solemn, then drooly, then blushing, and wondered if Xiaoyuan’s defeat had hit her harder than expected.
Yekase shoved the jumble aside and chatted with Ling Yi about the little frictions between heroes and the orgs lately. Ling Yi said she’d opened an anonymous thread to crowdsource tips for Flashblade Red; replies said the new form wasn’t red at all, maybe change the codename, or find teammates and form a Flashblade squad.
At “squad,” Yekase shook her head fast. Handling logistics for one Ling Yi already felt like juggling knives; add four equally needy teammates and she’d beg to go back to that 9-to-9, six-days-a-week grind.
“As for a codename... isn’t it just an identifier?”
“Hero codenames matter a lot!”
“Didn’t you make yours up mid-fight?”
“...Uh.”
They entered the dining area.
The bathhouse pass came with a buffet. They grabbed plates from the sterilizer, then split up like raiders fanning out across a field.
Five minutes later, they reconvened at the table.
Ling Yi eyed Yekase’s plate: egg tarts, apple pie, seafood sushi, cart noodles, and a glass of passion fruit juice from who-knew-where.
“Wow, carb overload...”
Can you finish that? Her gaze was skeptical as a cat at a rain puddle.
“I can get full off two egg tarts, but I can also eat all this and not pop,” Yekase said, calm as a still pond.
“Your stomach’s a transport box?”
“T0 to T5.”
“Still thinking about that Xiaoyuan.”
For the record, Ling Yi’s own appetite was comfortingly large. She’d taken one of everything within arm’s reach, and the roasted meats were her favorite, piled into a protein mountain right in the center.
As they ate, Ling Yi’s unusual intake drew eyes from nearby tables. The dining area was coed; Yekase felt several looks with a certain flavor, warm as candle flame and twice as nosy.
No way... do people actually like gluttons in real life...?
The old-mom reflex kept going. She lifted her head, scanned the room like a hawk, and secretly glared at a few men staring at Ling Yi.
“Doctor.”
“...Mm?”
“Got any way to train Mind Energy control?”
“Control?”
“I’ve got Sky Striker down cold. But when it comes to direct Mind Energy, I only know full-body buffs and brute force. In fights, I imagine fine control but can’t do it. It’s frustrating.”
“Fine control...”
The girl who’d once said “open with a power build” was now asking about microing Infinite Power?
It wasn’t just Yekase who was changing. Ling Yi was growing into a hero with her own ideas, someone who could hold the line alone.
“My Mind Energy’s terrible. I’ll try to find you a teacher... just don’t get your hopes too high.”
“If you say it, I’ll look forward to it.”
Cheeks puffed like a squirrel’s, mouth full, Ling Yi beamed bright as a streetlamp after rain.
A Mind Energy user...
...Mira?
No-no-no-no-no-no-no. Why her?! Yekase shivered.
Yet when she counted, the only person she knew who truly excelled at Mind Energy was Mira.
Shen Shanshan played with gadgets.
The Beast King Squadron played with Soul Power.
Sandryon played with magic—Ancient Alchemy.
At this point, all she could do was pray the bar would let her roll a Mind Energy–type hero.
Only when you need a bridge do you curse the lack of wood.
There’s a kind of researcher who’s bad at research but great at handshakes; they network under the lab coat, then stitch together friends’ scraps into “their” idea and rise on borrowed wings.
They walk the crime line; if 25% overlap is plagiarism, the elite keep every source at a crisp 24.9%. The last 0.4% is their name and title, long as a parade.
Genius Yekase had always looked down on them, but now she found herself envious.
Humans have limits. Tailors don’t.
“Mm... the meat’s a bit overcooked...”
“It’s a buffet, not a specialty grill.”
Yekase also found her apple pie a chore to swallow, like cardboard left in the sun—probably sat too long. Waste felt bad...
She angled her body to block the plate, brushed her hand over the half-eaten pie, and it vanished without a sound.
She’d have to wash the transport box later.
Then again, she could use it to pocket a little free food... the box was dirty anyway! No matter the price or taste, freeloading was a small joy, like finding coins under fallen leaves.
Catching the drift, Ling Yi frowned, face full of righteous scold, then whispered:
“Pack me some sizzling squid.”
Yekase laughed so hard she nearly lost her breath.
After two plates downed—and at least four plates ghosted away into the transport box—their dinner finally ended.
They changed in the locker room, then walked the corridor toward the exit.
Night had settled, and the lights came on like pale stars. Through the glass curtain wall on the right stood a row of tall ornamental plants with plastic sheen, pale green leaves faintly glowing. If she remembered right, they were a lunar specialty.
They reached the exit and traded their locker keys for their shoes at the counter.
The entrance sat near the exit. Noise flared there like a kettle boiling over; they looked up and saw a mixed group crowding the front desk, shouting at the staff.
The clerk handling their checkout whispered, “They’re fighters from an Eastside organization. Bought the wrong tickets, want to change packages on the spot... we can’t do that, so they’re making a scene.”
“Can’t you just throw them out?”
“Our bathhouse security can’t beat them...”
If on-site security couldn’t win, that was that. Report it, and the HQ heavies would come—but by then the troublemakers would be gone. The org would pay hush money, and the losses would be tallied against the clerks on shift like a cold ledger.
Ling Yi tugged Yekase’s sleeve. Yekase nodded and made a shushing gesture.
They bundled up and slipped out the glass doors.
Then they scanned left and right, hunting a blind spot where no eyes could see, like foxes seeking shade.
“Don’t spill blood on this one. Toss them out and call it,” Yekase said.
“Got it.”
They had this down to a routine. It was the 21st century; those fantasy-novel city-levelling events just didn’t happen—last year’s war was thunder with a sprinkle of rain. Even if they did, heroes rarely had room to intervene. Disputes between organizations? Criminals preying on criminals. Most days, heroes dealt with thugs bullying civilians.
“Flashblade Activation!”
“Starry Sky Striker ACE!”
“ZEROS!”
Silver-white pseudo-knight armor wrapped Ling Yi like moonlight forged into plates. She flexed, checked each joint, then cocked her head at Yekase.
“Doctor, not coming with me?”
Hands in her pockets, Yekase raised a brow. “Huh? When did you get the idea I fight in person?”
“At the Triple Calamity base, the training islet, the trench ruins, the Seaside City fair, the Differential Closure—”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough roll call!”
How had she ended up crossing so many battlefields? She was a small-time desk worker; how did she wind up in fistfights? Please, hire literally anyone else...
“Didn’t you recently get the Magical Girl transformation? You don’t even need a mask now. Super convenient.”
“But...”
She still wore the Mechbreaker mask and jacket instead of a better disguise because it looked cool—she’d sooner die than say that.
As a gentle, rational researcher, stepping into the ring was already shameful; if she exposed a taste for useless battle outfits, it’d be like an adult man obsessing over Barbie dolls.
Lightning flickered through her mind.
Broadly speaking, figurines—and even Gunpla—are a kind of Barbie doll... right?
...A Barbie nine-grid!
