i like the view right now

The Hunter's Association Selection Ceremony had been far too exciting for her to pay much attention to anyone else.

The auditorium buzzed with anticipation as hundreds of recruits filled the seats, every conversation layered atop another until the entire room felt alive with nervous energy. Screens stretched across the stage, displaying names, assignments, and divisions while hopeful hunters waited to learn where they would spend the next chapter of their lives.

Nymeria remembered sitting on the edge of her seat, one leg bouncing impatiently.

When her name was called out to be a part of the UNICORNs division, everything else ceased to exist. For several seconds she simply stared.

UNICORNs.

The elite division.

The division.

The one recruits talked about excitedly during training sessions. The one that handled the Association's most dangerous and important operations. The one led by Captain Jenna.

A grin had spread across her face before she could stop it.

Beside her, Star looked equally ecstatic, already talking excitedly about future missions and training opportunities. Nym barely heard half of what was being said. Her heart was pounding too loudly in her ears. Working under Captain Jenna felt less like an assignment and more like a dream she'd somehow tricked reality into granting.

As the initial excitement settled, she began noticing familiar faces scattered throughout the crowd. Delia was among them. That wasn't surprising in the slightest. Delia possessed the sort of determination that could probably intimidate a mountain into moving if she stared at it long enough. If anyone belonged in UNICORNs, it was her.

Standing beside her was another girl Nym vaguely recognized from passing encounters around the Academy. She had long ginger hair gathered into a braid, round gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, and an expression that suggested she wished she could become invisible.

At one point someone brushed past her shoulder and she visibly startled. Moments later Delia leaned over to say something and she startled again. The reaction was so immediate and genuine that Nym almost laughed. The poor girl looked as though she had spent her entire life apologizing for taking up space.

"Huh," Nym muttered.

Star glanced over. "What?"

"Nothing." Her gaze lingered briefly on the redhead.

She seemed kind. Like the type of person who looked like she'd offer you her umbrella in the rain and then walk home soaked because she forgot she needed it too.

That was about all Nym thought of her at the time.

Months later, she would realize just how wrong first impressions could be.

The beginning of their friendship happened so gradually that Nym couldn't identify the exact moment it started. There wasn't a single defining conversation. Just countless small interactions accumulating over time.

Sometimes it was crossing paths in hallways before briefings. Sometimes it was ending up seated at the same lunch table because Delia had decided everyone should be friends. Sometimes it was being assigned to the same mission and discovering that despite Miki's shy demeanor, she was surprisingly reliable under pressure.

Nym began noticing things. Miki remembered details most people overlooked. She remembered preferences, favorite drinks, allergies, important dates. While louder personalities like hers dominated conversations, Miki listened because she genuinely cared about what other people were saying. In a profession filled with people eager to prove themselves, Miki's willingness to simply sit, observe, and understand others felt surprisingly refreshing.

Even then, friendship remained something casual rather than particularly deep. They enjoyed each other's company. They trusted one another professionally. But neither of them could have predicted how quickly circumstances would change.

The mission itself was supposed to be routine.

The Association's report described a relatively minor Wanderer infestation within an abandoned industrial district on the outskirts of Linkon City. The operation should have taken only a few hours. Instead, it became one of the more memorable disasters of Nymeria's early career.

By the time the first structure collapsed, the team had already become separated. What began as a straightforward operation turned into a scramble for survival as aging support beams gave way and entire sections of the facility began folding in on themselves. Nymeria still remembered the sound more vividly than anything else. The scream of twisting metal. The violent groan of concrete under stress. The deafening crash that followed.

When the dust settled, she found herself trapped beneath a collapsed support beam with a rapidly growing injury and a hunter’s watch that refused to function. Being injured was one thing. Being unable to do anything about it was another entirely. What she hadn't expected was to hear someone calling her name through the dust.

Miki appeared moments later looking terrified. There was dirt on her face, panic in her eyes, and enough fear in her expression that Nymeria immediately ordered her to leave. The structure was unstable. Additional collapses were likely. Any reasonable person would have prioritized survival.

Miki refused.

Even now, years later, Nymeria could still remember the look on her face.

She looked afraid, she looked uncertain, and yet she stayed with a fierce determination in her eyes.

Every instinct seemed to be telling her to leave, but she ignored all of them and began helping anyway. Piece by piece she cleared debris, searched for leverage points, and stubbornly refused every suggestion that she prioritize her own safety.

When rescue teams eventually arrived, they found Miki still kneeling beside her.

That was the day Nymeria's perception of her changed forever.

Kindness was easy when circumstances were comfortable. Staying beside someone when every survival instinct told you otherwise required something else entirely. It required courage. The kind Miki possessed in abundance.

Nymeria watched as Miki sat back on her heels and finally allowed herself to breathe.

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

The redhead woman simply lowered her head into her hands, shoulders trembling as relief finally caught up to her.

"...You know," Nymeria finally said as a medic wrapped her side, "if I tell you that was incredibly stupid, are you going to get offended?"

Miki looked up. There was dirt on her glasses and a streak of grime ran across her forehead. She looked absolutely miserable but relieved.  "N-No?"

"It was incredibly stupid."

The laugh that escaped Miki sounded suspiciously close to a sob. "I know."

"You could've gotten hurt."

"I know."

"You should've left."

"No."

Nymeria stared at her. Miki stared back. Then, to both their surprise, they started laughing.

It wasn't particularly funny. Neither of them could explain why they were laughing.

Maybe it was relief or it was exhaustion. Or maybe it was simply the realization that everything had turned out alright. Whatever the reason, it became one of those moments that lingered.

For the next several weeks, Nymeria found herself observing Miki more. It was simply that once someone became important to you, your brain started noticing them more often.

She would catch sight of orange hair disappearing around a hallway corner while heading to a briefing. She would arrive at a conference room only to discover Miki already seated there, quietly reviewing reports while everyone else filtered in. Sometimes she'd find a carton of mango drink sitting beside her workstation after a particularly long shift, and while there was never a note attached, there was also not many in the Association thoughtful enough to leave things like that without wanting credit.

The first time it happened, Nym spent nearly twenty minutes trying to figure out who had left it there. The second time, she narrowed it down to three suspects. By the fourth time, she simply picked up the carton and muttered, "You're getting sneakier."

Miki, who happened to be sitting two desks away, nearly dropped her pen. That was all the confirmation Nym needed.

The friendship settled into place gradually after that, finding its shape through dozens of ordinary moments. There were shared lunches that began because Delia dragged them to the same table and continued long after Delia got distracted by a silver haired someone. There were missions where Miki's observations proved useful in ways that brute force never could. There were evenings spent lingering in the Association lobby after shifts ended because neither of them seemed particularly eager to go home just yet.

What surprised Nymeria most was discovering how talented Miki actually was. The first time Nymeria heard Miki sing, however, nearly altered her understanding of reality.

The Association's annual charity gala had always felt like one of those events that existed solely to remind hunters that society expected them to behave like functioning adults every now and then. There were speeches from donors, presentations highlighting the year's accomplishments, and enough formalwear to make Nym question whether anyone in attendance had ever actually chased a Wanderer through a collapsing building before. She had spent most of the evening lingering near one of the side tables with a drink in hand, half-listening to a conversation between Star and a senior hunter while mentally debating whether leaving early would be considered a professional offense.

The announcement of a musical performance barely registered at first.

People clapped politely.

The lights dimmed.

Conversations gradually quieted.

And then Miki walked onto the stage.

Years later, Nymeria would still struggle to explain exactly why the moment had surprised her so much. It wasn't as though she'd never heard Miki mention music before. She knew the other woman played instruments. She knew she enjoyed singing. She knew there was a reason people occasionally referred to her as a performer. Yet none of those facts had prepared her for seeing Miki beneath the spotlight.

Perhaps it was because so much of Miki's presence in everyday life revolved around making herself smaller. She stepped aside so others could walk first. She listened more than she spoke. She occupied the edges of rooms without seeming to realize she had every right to stand in the center of them. Watching her step onto that stage felt strangely similar to watching someone emerge from behind a curtain they had spent years standing behind.

Then she began to sing.

Nymeria never asked what song it was.

She couldn't remember.

What she remembered instead was the feeling.

Her voice invited attention, wrapping itself around the room with a warmth that reminded her of late autumn afternoons and familiar places. There was something profoundly earnest about it. No pretense. No performance for the sake of performance. Miki sang the way she approached everything else she loved, with her entire heart.

At some point during the song, Nym became aware that the conversation beside her had stopped entirely. Star wasn't speaking anymore and neither was anyone else nearby. Even the servers carrying trays through the ballroom seemed quieter than before.

When the final note faded, the applause arrived almost immediately, filling the ballroom with enough noise to make several people laugh. Miki herself looked startled by the reaction, her cheeks flushing as she accepted the recognition before quickly retreating from the stage.

Nymeria stared after her.

Then she looked at Delia.

Then back at the stage.

Then back at Delia.

"How long have you been hiding that?"

Delia laughed. "Hiding what? She performs quite often on stages during her downtime, you know. You knew she sings."

"No, I knew she sings. I did not know she sings." The distinction apparently made perfect sense to Nymeria and absolutely none to Delia.

"Mhm."

"I'm serious."

At that, Delia's laughter became loud enough to earn a few curious glances from nearby tables.

The conversation itself faded from memory eventually.

What remained was the realization that Miki possessed depths she rarely allowed people to see immediately. Every few months seemed to reveal something new. A new story, a new skill, a new layer beneath the surface of the person Nymeria thought she already knew.

Friendship, she discovered, was sometimes just the process of repeatedly realizing how much more there was left to learn about someone.

Life at the Association continued moving at its usual relentless pace. Missions arrived. Missions ended. Reports accumulated. Entire weeks disappeared beneath paperwork and patrol schedules before anyone noticed. Through all of it, Miki remained a constant presence woven into the background of Nymeria's life, appearing often enough that she eventually stopped questioning it.

Sometimes they shared meals, sometimes they shared assignments and sometimes they simply occupied the same space while doing entirely different things. Looking back, some of her favorite memories weren't significant enough to qualify as memories at all.

There had been a rainy afternoon when a storm trapped half the Association inside headquarters and someone suggested a board game. The game itself had dissolved into chaos within twenty minutes, alliances shifting every few turns while accusations of cheating flew freely around the table. Through it all, Miki had remained convinced she was somehow winning despite consistently placing last. Nymeria could still remember the stubborn look on her face whenever someone pointed out the scoreboard.

There had also been the infamous baking incident.

Nym wasn't entirely sure how Miki had managed to burn something that technically wasn't supposed to be baked, but the event had become Association legend for nearly six months afterward.

There were evenings when they found themselves lingering in the Association cafeteria long after dinner had technically ended, the cleaning staff already moving through the room while they remained seated with empty cups and unfinished conversations. Sometimes Delia joined them. Sometimes Star did. Sometimes it was just the two of them occupying the same corner booth while the city lights flickered beyond the windows.

Those were the moments when Caleb's name appeared most naturally, woven into stories the same way one might mention family or childhood friend.

"...and then Caleb fell out of the tree."

Nymeria nearly choked on her drink. "He what?"

Miki's face immediately turned red. "It sounds worse than it was. He was trying to prove something."

"That was his first mistake." Nym snorted.

"He was twelve…" Miki quietly defended him.

"That's old enough to know gravity exists... Especially so when it’s his evol…"

Miki's laughter filled the booth, warm and familiar by now. "Grandma said the same thing."

The smile that followed lingered longer than the laughter itself.

Whenever Miki talked about her grandmother, there was always warmth. Whenever she talked about Caleb, there was warmth too. But there was something else mixed in there. Something that made her eyes brighten in ways Nymeria didn't entirely understand at the time.

Looking back now, the signs had been obvious.

At the time, she simply thought Miki looked happiest when she talked about him.

It wasn't particularly surprising.

Everyone had that person.

That person whose name carried memories alongside it.

That person who existed so naturally in your life that imagining the future without them felt fundamentally incorrect.

For Miki, that person had always seemed to be Caleb.

The farming simulator had released on a Friday. Under normal circumstances, Nymeria would have exercised at least a little self-control before buying it. These were not normal circumstances.

By lunch, she had already watched several reviews. By mid-afternoon, the game was downloaded. By the end of her shift, she had become convinced that she absolutely needed someone to play it with.

Naturally, that someone was Miki.

The records department was unusually quiet when she found her. Most of the Association had already escaped for the weekend, leaving only a handful of unfortunate souls finishing paperwork beneath the warm glow of the setting sun. Long strips of orange light stretched across the floor from the windows overlooking Linkon City, catching on filing cabinets and stacks of reports.

Miki sat behind her desk sorting through mission files with the kind of concentration normally reserved for bomb disposal.

Nymeria dropped into the chair opposite her.

A game case landed dramatically on top of the paperwork.

Miki looked up at Nym and then looked down at the game case.

Then immediately smiled. "You bought it."

Nymeria pointed at her. "That is not the point."

"It came out today." The accusation was gentle.

"Also, not the point." A laugh escaped Miki as she carefully moved the game case away from the documents she had been organizing.

"What is the point?"

"The point," Nymeria announced, leaning forward, "is that I require a farming companion."

"A farming companion...?" Miki tilted her head, confused.

"Yes."

Miki adjusted her glasses. "I don't know if that's an actual thing, Nym."

"It is now."

The smile was already there before Nymeria asked the next question. That should have been her first clue. "Weekend plans?"

Immediately, Miki's expression shifted to something bright and quietly excited. "I do, actually."

There was an apologetic note in her voice.

Nymeria narrowed her eyes. "You sound suspiciously happy about that."

Miki laughed. “I am!!! I… I am having Dinner at Grandma’s. Caleb is coming over too!”

There it was again.

That expression.

The one Nymeria had noticed countless times before without fully understanding it.

She had never met Caleb. Truthfully, everything she knew about him had come from Miki. Over the past months, she'd collected fragments of information without meaning to. Stories about childhood adventures. Stories about getting into trouble together. Stories where Caleb was Miki’s protector, friend, and family.

Caleb existed in her mind almost entirely through those stories.

Yet every single time his name appeared in conversation, Miki reacted exactly like this. As if someone had lit a lantern inside her chest. It was the sort of expression people wore when talking about someplace they belonged.

Nymeria found herself watching her for a moment longer than necessary.

"Miki."

"Hm?"

"I think you have a crush on Caleb."

The reaction was immediate. A flush spread across Miki's face so quickly that it was almost impressive. "I… I… I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I... don't." Miki looked horrified.

Which, unfortunately, only made Nymeria's case stronger. The redhead attempted to hide behind a folder as if that would somehow protect her.

Nymeria laughed so hard she nearly slid out of her chair. "Oh, this is incredible."

"Please stop."

"No."

"Nymeria!!!!!!!"

"No."

Miki groaned softly into her hands. The tips of her ears had turned red. And despite all her embarrassment, she was still smiling.

That smile lingered for the rest of the conversation. It remained there when she talked about Caleb’s cooking. It remained there when she mentioned helping prepare dinner. It remained there when she absentmindedly described some story involving Caleb that neither of them had realized she'd already told twice before.

Eventually, Nymeria picked up the game case and rose from her chair. "We're playing next weekend."

Miki blinked. "What?"

"The game."

"Oh."

"The farming empire can wait one week."

Relief crossed Miki's face. "You don't mind?"

The question surprised her. Because Miki sounded genuinely worried about disappointing her.

Nymeria reached across the desk and flicked her forehead.

Miki yelped.

"Go have dinner." Then, after a brief pause, she added with a grin, "And try not to spend the entire weekend crushing over Caleb."

The scandalized look on Miki's face followed her all the way out of the records department.

For the rest of the walk home, Nymeria found herself smiling. Not because of the game, not even because she'd successfully embarrassed Miki. But because there was something strangely comforting about seeing someone so happy whenever they talked about a person they loved.

At the time, she didn't realize how precious those moments would eventually become.

At the time, Nymeria didn't understand how an entire city could continue functioning after someone's world ended.

The following Friday should have been ordinary.

That was the thought that haunted her most afterward.

A week earlier she had left the Association with a grin on her face after successfully teasing Miki into oblivion. The image remained frustratingly vivid even now; the redhead hiding behind a folder while denying, with all the conviction of a criminal caught red-handed, that she had any sort of feelings for Caleb whatsoever. Nymeria had walked home that evening thinking about farming simulators and weekend plans, wondering whether she should start a livestock empire or focus on crops first. The concerns felt laughably small now.

Because the next time she saw Miki, she was sitting in a hospital bed.

The news reached the Association shortly after dawn.

An emergency response.

A residential explosion.

Casualties.

Medical transports.

Names.

Nobody wanted to be the first person to say them out loud.

The atmosphere inside headquarters had felt wrong from the moment Nymeria arrived. Hunters were accustomed to bad news. Injuries happened. Fatalities happened. It was an unfortunate reality of their profession. Yet there was something horrifying about tragedy striking people outside the battlefield.

The coffee machine still hummed.

The elevators still moved.

Reports still needed filing.

Yet conversations remained unfinished throughout the building, voices lowered instinctively whenever someone approached.

It felt as though the entire Association was holding its breath.

By the time Nymeria left for Akso Hospital, Linkon City had fully awakened around her. Morning commuters crowded train platforms. Delivery drones crossed between skyscrapers. Traffic flowed steadily through downtown streets. Large holographic advertisements shimmered against glass towers while civilians hurried toward jobs, schools, and appointments.

Nobody looking at the city would have guessed that somewhere within it, a little old house no longer existed. That two people who had spent years occupying space in someone else's life were suddenly gone. That somewhere in one of the hospital rooms overlooking the city skyline sat a girl whose entire future had changed overnight.

The bouquet in Nymeria's hands felt absurd.

She had stood in the florist for nearly twenty minutes before choosing anything. Every flower suddenly seemed wrong. The florist had asked if she needed help. Nymeria had almost laughed. How exactly did one buy flowers for something like this?

Congratulations flowers existed.

Birthday flowers existed.

Apology flowers existed.

Nobody ever taught you how to buy flowers for a friend whose world had collapsed.

The hospital itself felt suspended outside normal time, as hospitals often did.

The moment the elevator doors opened onto the recovery floor, the sounds of the city vanished entirely, replaced by quiet footsteps, distant monitor alarms, and the faint antiseptic scent that seemed embedded into every surface. The sunlight pouring through the large windows felt strangely detached from reality, illuminating polished floors and pale walls that had witnessed far too many stories ending and beginning.

Delia was already there.

Looking back, Nymeria wasn't sure she had ever seen Delia look so exhausted.

There were dark circles beneath her eyes and tension carved into her posture, the sort that came from carrying too much worry for too many days. A half-finished coffee sat forgotten beside her while she stared through one of the windows overlooking the city.

For several moments neither woman spoke. Because beyond the hospital room door was someone, they both cared about, and neither of them knew how to help.

The bouquet remained trapped beneath Nymeria's arm.

That helplessness lingered for months afterward.

People often imagine grief as something dramatic.

A funeral.

A eulogy.

Tears.

What Nymeria learned from watching Miki was that grief was often unbearably ordinary.

It appeared in grocery stores.

It appeared in empty chairs.

It appeared when someone picked up their phone before remembering there was nobody to call.

The first few weeks were the hardest. Not because Miki cried constantly, she didn't. Not because she stopped functioning, she didn't do that either. What frightened Nymeria most was how quiet she became. Not in her usual shy self. Quiet in the way abandoned buildings were quiet.

Sometimes Nym would visit her apartment after work and find her sitting beside the window with a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. The television might be running. Music might be playing softly in the background. Yet it always felt as though part of Miki existed somewhere else entirely, wandering through memories neither of them could reach. The small traces people left behind proved far more persistent than Nymeria anticipated.

And yet life kept moving.

The seasons changed.

Linkon City continued glowing beneath neon lights and drifting holograms. Missions still appeared on schedules. The world never paused long enough for grief to catch up.

For a while, Nymeria hated that.

Then she noticed something else.

Miki was moving too. Slowly, but moving. She wasn’t moving away from it; she was moving forward with it.

She showed up. She completed her work.

She answered questions when spoken to.

She smiled when expected.

Yet there was always the lingering feeling that part of her remained beyond reach.

The first few months were especially difficult because grief had a habit of disguising itself as normalcy. Outsiders often assumed that because someone had stopped crying, they were doing better. Nymeria learned very quickly that wasn't how it worked. Sometimes the hardest days weren't the ones filled with tears. Sometimes they were the ones where Miki simply sat staring at a cup of tea for twenty minutes without realizing it had gone cold.

The girls learned to stop asking if she was okay.

Instead, they simply showed up.

Delia showed up most often.

Nymeria wasn't sure when exactly it happened, but somewhere between hospital visits, funerals, and sleepless nights, Delia stopped being merely a friend and became something closer to family. There were evenings when Nym would arrive at Miki's apartment only to find Delia already there, curled up on the couch beneath a blanket while helping fold laundry. There were weekends where the two disappeared for entire afternoons only to return carrying shopping bags and takeout containers. There were days when Delia seemed capable of communicating with Miki through nothing more than a glance.

Watching them together sometimes reminded Nymeria of two people carefully rebuilding something after a storm had torn it apart.

Because healing was easier when someone was willing to carry the weight with you.

Sky became another constant presence.

Star too.

Before long, what had once been individual friendships slowly began weaving themselves together into something larger. It wasn't intentional. Nobody sat down and declared themselves a group. Nobody established rules or traditions.

It simply happened.

Movie nights became regular occurrences.

Weekend outings became expected.

The girls found themselves gathering for no particular reason other than wanting to be together.

Sometimes it was because someone had a bad day.

Sometimes it was because someone had a good day.

Sometimes it was simply because Tuesday existed and that seemed reason enough.

The first time Miki laughed again, Nymeria nearly cried.

The realization caught her completely off guard.

It happened during one of their game nights.

Star had accidentally launched a virtual sheep into a river while trying to complete a farming quest. The event itself wasn't particularly funny.

What followed was.

The sheep became stuck.

The game glitched.

Star panicked.

Nymeria somehow made things worse.

Within seconds the entire farm had descended into chaos.

And then Miki laughed.

The kind that made her shoulders shake, the kind that made her glasses slide down her nose, the kind that left her struggling to breathe between giggles.

For a moment, everyone simply stared. Miki noticed immediately.

The laughter died. "W-What?"

"Nothing," Delia said far too quickly.

"Nothing," Star agreed.

Nymeria had to look away entirely because suddenly she couldn't trust her voice.

The relief that swept through the room felt almost physical. As though everyone had been holding their breath for months and finally remembered how to exhale.

Miki began performing again.

The first time she stepped onto a stage after the explosion, all four of them attended despite having to rearrange schedules and bribe coworkers to cover shifts. They occupied an entire section of seats near the front, cheering loudly enough to earn disapproving looks from several audience members.

Nymeria considered those looks badges of honor.

If Miki was brave enough to stand on that stage again, then the least they could do was embarrass her afterward.

There were home-cooked meals too.

Or rather, there were attempts at home-cooked meals.

Miki remained a disaster in the kitchen.

That much never changed.

One memorable evening ended with smoke alarms, three ruined pans, and Delia standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a spatula like a weapon while demanding an explanation.

"I followed the recipe!"

"The recipe did not tell you to set water on fire!"

"I don't know how it happened!"

"Neither do I!"

Nymeria had laughed so hard her stomach hurt. The memory remained one of her favorites.

Because for the first time in a long time, the apartment had sounded alive again.

There were road trips, weekend getaways, late-night karaoke sessions and spontaneous shopping trips that somehow lasted six hours.

There were new memories steadily filling spaces, reshaping them all together.

Miki never stopped missing Caleb.

Nymeria knew that.

Everyone did.

Some grief never truly disappeared.

It simply changed shape.

Yet what impressed her most was watching Miki learn who she was outside of that loss. Watching her make decisions on her own, watching her trust herself, watching her slowly become less dependent on memories and more invested in the future.

She was different. There was no denying that. Because grief had carved permanent marks into her. But beneath those changes remained the same woman Nymeria had met months earlier. Kind, gentle and ridiculously stubborn when it mattered. She was still capable of loving people with her entire heart.

Perhaps that was why, when chaos entered Nymeria's own life, she found herself wishing she could talk about it.

Unfortunately, chaos had arrived wearing black.

His name was Sylus.

Or at least that was the name most people knew.

To the Hunter's Association, Sylus was a criminal. A ghost. A rumor whispered through classified reports and intelligence briefings. The leader of Onychinus occupied the very top of several most-wanted lists, and enough stories surrounded him that separating truth from myth had become nearly impossible.

To Nymeria, he was somehow worse.

Because she actually knew him.

The problem was that every encounter left her more confused than the last.

Sylus existed as a contradiction.

A criminal who occasionally helped people.

A dangerous man capable of startling tenderness.

A headache.

A dilemma.

A secret.

And absolutely not something she could casually discuss over drinks with friends.

"Hey, by the way, I think I'm developing feelings for one of the most wanted men in the world."

No.

That conversation would not be happening.

Ever.

Which was why she suffered in silence.

The problem wasn't merely that Sylus occupied the top of several wanted lists. The problem was that she herself wasn't entirely sure what he was to her. Every encounter with him left her more confused than the last.

He was frustrating, dangerous, infuriating, charming, protective when he had absolutely no business being protective and somehow, despite every logical argument her brain supplied, she kept thinking about him.

It was deeply inconvenient. And because it was deeply inconvenient, she told absolutely nobody.

Which was why, months later, she nearly had a heart attack.

The karaoke night had been Tara’s idea. It was supposed to be a team building activity for the new gen hunters. By seven o'clock they were making their way through Linkon's evening crowds, weaving between office workers heading home and groups of students gathering around street vendors. The city glowed around them in a wash of neon signs and holographic advertisements, reflecting off glass towers and rain-slick pavement left behind by an afternoon shower. Somewhere overhead, autonomous transit lines cut luminous paths across the darkening sky while music drifted from open storefronts lining the streets below.

Miki walked beside Delia, laughing at something that had been said several minutes earlier. The sound still caught Nymeria off guard sometimes. Not because it was rare anymore, but because she remembered a time when she worried, she might never hear it again. Star was attempting to convince everyone that she absolutely possessed the vocal range necessary for a notoriously difficult song. Nobody believed her. Least of all Sky, who had already begun listing reasons why the attempt would end in disaster.

The karaoke lounge occupied the upper floors of a commercial building overlooking one of Linkon's busiest entertainment districts. As the group approached the entrance, they found themselves caught behind several people attempting to leave at the same time, creating a brief bottleneck near the glass doors. It was nothing unusual. Friday evenings always attracted crowds.

What was unusual was the man exiting the building.

Nymeria noticed him before her brain fully processed why.

A familiar silhouette.

Dark clothing.

Silver hair catching the glow of nearby signage.

The effortless confidence of someone who moved through the world as though every space already belonged to him.

For a moment she genuinely thought she was imagining things.

Then he turned and their eyes met.

The world did not stop.

People continued walking.

Conversations continued around them.

Music drifted from somewhere across one of the rooms. Yet Nymeria felt a surge of panic so immediate and unexpected that she nearly walked directly into Delia.

Because standing twenty feet away, looking just as surprised as she felt, was Sylus.

In the middle of Linkon, in front of every single one of her friends. The worst part was that he looked genuinely caught off guard… for about two seconds. Then the surprise disappeared and amusement replaced it.

Nymeria immediately knew she was doomed because she recognized that expression.

While Delia and Star remained busy debating whether karaoke scoring systems were rigged, Miki followed Nymeria's line of sight toward the stranger standing near the entrance. She watched confusion flicker across her friend's face, followed by shock, followed by something far more interesting. It was a sequence of reactions she had never witnessed before, and for someone who had spent time quietly observing the people she loved, it immediately captured her attention.

The stranger smiled.

Nymeria looked like she wanted the ground to open beneath her.

And without understanding why, Miki suddenly found herself very interested in what was about to happen.

And without understanding why, Miki suddenly found herself very interested in what was about to happen.

Unfortunately for Nymeria, months of surviving dangerous missions had taught her many useful skills. Remaining calm under pressure. Reading hostile intent. Navigating life-threatening situations.

None of those skills were helping her now.

The moment she saw the amusement settle into Sylus' expression; she knew exactly what kind of evening this was about to become.

Before anyone else could notice the strange tension hanging between them, she excused herself with a muttered comment about checking their reservation and immediately crossed the distance separating them. The movement was casual enough not to attract attention, though judging by the way Sylus' mouth twitched when she approached, he knew exactly what she was doing.

The man had the audacity to look pleased. "Absolutely not."

The greeting left her lips before she even reached him.

Sylus glanced toward the ceiling as though considering her words. "Good evening to you too, sweetie."

"What are you doing here?" The question emerged as a hiss the moment she stopped in front of him.

Around them, people continued entering and exiting the karaoke lounge without paying either of them much attention. Bright advertisements flickered across nearby buildings while traffic crawled through the streets below. Somewhere inside, muffled music bled through the glass doors every time they opened.

Sylus looked entirely at home amidst it all. That annoyed her more than it should have.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're about to ruin my evening."

A low chuckle escaped him. "No. It looks like I'm about to enjoy karaoke."

"Karaoke."

"Karaoke."

"You."

"Me."

Nymeria stared.

Sylus stared back.

The infuriating thing was that he didn't appear to be lying. The man genuinely looked as though he'd come out to spend a normal evening in Linkon City. Which somehow felt more suspicious than any criminal activity she could imagine.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I wasn't aware my recreational activities required your approval." His gaze drifted toward the growing crowd near the entrance before returning to her face. "Though I admit running into you was an unexpected bonus."

Nymeria resisted the overwhelming urge to push him down the nearest staircase.

Unfortunately, before she could continue the argument, she became aware of approaching footsteps. She and Sylus had apparently been whispering intensely enough near the entrance to attract attention.

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

When she turned around, she found herself facing several members of the newer Hunter squads. Behind them stood Delia, Star, Sky and Miki.

Of course they were all watching.

One of the younger hunters looked between the two of them before breaking into a grin. "Hey, Nym. Friend of yours?"

Nymeria opened her mouth. For perhaps the first time in her entire life, she had absolutely no idea what to say.

Unfortunately, Sylus did. His smile sharpened ever so slightly.

It was the smile of a man who had discovered an opportunity and fully intended to exploit it.

"Friend?" Sylus repeated thoughtfully.

Then he extended a hand toward the group with all the effortless charm of someone who had spent years manipulating boardrooms and crime syndicates alike. "Skye."

The lie rolled off his tongue so smoothly it almost sounded true. "I'm a businessman."

Nymeria nearly choked.

"A businessman?" one of the hunters echoed.

"And a fruit vendor."

Now she actually did choke. A coughing fit immediately followed.

Sylus ignored her. "I import and export produce."

The younger hunters appeared impressed, which somehow made everything worse. Knowing Sylus, it was entirely possible. The man could probably acquire an orchard by breakfast if he felt like it.

The conversation continued before she could recover. "How do you know Nym?"

"We're besties."

Around them, several hunters laughed.

Someone snorted, Star looked delighted, Delia looked confused, Sky looked suspicious and Miki's ears practically perked up.

While everyone else remained distracted by Sylus' ridiculous introduction, Miki's attention drifted instead toward her friend. Toward the way Nymeria refused to look directly at him. Toward the faint flush creeping across her face. Toward the way Sylus seemed entirely too comfortable standing beside her. Most importantly, toward the fact that Nym hadn't denied knowing him.

If some random stranger had called himself her best friend, Nymeria would have verbally dismantled him within seconds. Instead, she looked embarrassed.

The conversation continued flowing around them while the crowd slowly migrated toward the elevators leading to the karaoke floors. By now, the hunters had completely accepted Skye's presence despite having known him for approximately thirty seconds. Delia had joined the conversation. Star was asking questions. Sky looked mildly confused but willing to go along with it.

The elevator ride upstairs only reinforced that feeling.

By the time everyone reached the private karaoke room, Skye had somehow become part of the group. Nobody seemed particularly concerned about it. Hunters were accustomed to collecting strays. The room itself overlooked the city through enormous glass windows, revealing Linkon's sprawling skyline painted in neon and reflected light. Towers glowed against the darkness. Traffic moved like rivers of gold beneath them. Music drifted through the room while drinks and snacks quickly occupied every available surface.

The evening should have settled into normalcy after that.

Instead, Miki found herself noticing things.

The way Skye always seemed to know exactly how to get under Nymeria's skin.

The way Nymeria seemed entirely too accustomed to it.

The way conversations flowed between them without explanation.

At one point, Star challenged Skye to sing.

That turned out to be a mistake.

A tremendous mistake.

A catastrophic mistake.

Because the man couldn't sing at all.

The revelation stunned the room. Someone with that much confidence should have possessed at least a little talent.

Instead, he attacked the song with remarkable enthusiasm and absolutely no accuracy. Notes were missed. Timing disappeared entirely. The melody became more of a suggestion than a guideline. By the second chorus, Star was laughing so hard she nearly fell off the couch.

By the bridge, even Sky was crying.

And through all of it, Skye remained completely unfazed.

Miki should have been focused on the performance. Everyone else was.

Instead, her gaze drifted toward Nymeria. Toward the smile she was unsuccessfully attempting to hide. Toward the way she looked at him when she forgot herself. Toward the familiarity that existed between them.

Whatever story existed there, it clearly hadn't started tonight.

And although Miki didn't know what that story was yet, she had a feeling she'd just stumbled onto the first page.

Several weeks after the karaoke incident, Miki disappeared to Skyhaven. The girls knew where she was going. Delia had mentioned it over lunch one afternoon while absentmindedly picking at her food and pretending not to watch everyone's reactions.

"It has something to do with the investigation," she'd explained, lowering her voice despite nobody nearby paying attention. "The explosion in Skyhaven. The reports share similarities with what happened at Miki’s Grandma's house."

The conversation had died shortly afterward.

The explosion remained a wound that never entirely healed among their little group. It wasn't brought up often anymore, but it lingered beneath conversations all the same, surfacing unexpectedly whenever someone passed a familiar neighborhood, heard a particular song, or stumbled across an old photograph. The possibility that there might be answers waiting in Skyhaven was enough to make everyone uneasy.

Skyhaven itself only made matters worse.

The floating city occupied a strange place in public perception. To civilians, it was often viewed as a symbol of technological achievement and military strength. To hunters, it was something considerably more frustrating. The Farspace Fleet governed the city with an iron grip disguised as protocol, information moved through layers of authorization, access required permissions and questions required clearance. Outsiders were tolerated rather than welcomed.

The Association and the Fleet maintained a professional relationship.

That didn't mean they trusted each other which was why the girls spent most of Miki's absence worrying. Not because they doubted her abilities, nobody who knew Miki underestimated her anymore. The concern came from knowing how personal the investigation was. Because there was a difference between facing a Wanderer and facing the ghosts of your own past.

Star continued finding increasingly creative ways to get herself into trouble.

Delia remained busy enough for three people.

Nymeria tried very hard not to think about how much she missed having Miki around.

Then Miki came home and something had changed.

At first, Nymeria couldn't identify what it was.

The change wasn't obvious. Miki still looked like Miki. She still wore oversized sweaters, still adjusted her glasses whenever she became nervous and still smiled softly when someone greeted her.

Yet there was something different beneath the surface. Whatever had happened in Skyhaven had left a mark.

The problem was that nobody seemed eager to explain it, especially Delia, which immediately made Nymeria worried. Yet every time Skyhaven came up, Delia developed the habit of looking annoyed and then looking at Miki as Miki answered. Sometimes Miki smiled, sometimes she looked emotional. But most of the time she looked like she was actively resisting the urge to say something.

Whatever secret existed, Delia clearly knew it.

Nymeria, unfortunately, did not.

The unfairness of this situation bothered her tremendously. Then again, she wasn't exactly in a position to complain about secrets.

Not when she had one of her own.

Because while Miki had been discovering things about herself in Skyhaven, Nymeria had spent the past several months steadily losing a battle she refused to acknowledge.

His name was Sylus.

Or Skye.

Depending on who was asking.

The distinction mattered more than anyone realized.

To her friends, Skye was merely an eccentric businessman with questionable singing abilities, suspiciously expensive clothing, and an alarming talent for getting underneath Nymeria's skin. Ever since karaoke night, the group had adopted him with surprising speed. Delia liked teasing him. Star found him hilarious. Sky remained mildly suspicious but entertained.

The problem was that they also liked teasing her.

A lot.

"Oh, Skye is coming?"

"Nym, you should text your boyfriend."

"Nym, reel your man in."

"Nym, he's looking at you again."

"Nym—"

Every single time, Nymeria threatened violence.

Every single time, nobody listened.

The truly embarrassing part was that the teasing only grew more effective because her feelings had stopped being confusing.

Months ago, she could at least claim uncertainty.

Now?

Now she knew. She knew exactly how she felt. It showed in the concern she felt whenever he disappeared, in the relief she experienced whenever he returned, in the way her thoughts instinctively drifted toward him during quiet moments, in the way she found herself looking for him every time she heard an engine rev, in the way she trusted him despite every logical reason not to. The feelings themselves were no longer confusing. What confused her was what to do with them.

Because the world saw Sylus one way and she saw him another.

Every classified report described a criminal.

Every intelligence briefing described a threat.

Yet none of those descriptions matched the man she knew. The contradiction sat heavily inside her chest and some days she genuinely didn't know what to do with it.

Those thoughts followed her one afternoon while she and Miki walked through Linkon's shopping district.

The weather had finally begun cooling after several weeks of oppressive heat. Golden afternoon sunlight spilled between towering buildings while crowds drifted through the streets carrying shopping bags and takeaway drinks. Music drifted from nearby storefronts. Somewhere across the street, an autonomous delivery drone buzzed overhead while holographic advertisements painted shifting colors across the pavement.

Beside her, Miki seemed unusually quiet and distant. The woman was lost in her own thoughts.

Nymeria observed her for several minutes before finally sighing. "Okay."

Miki blinked. "Okay?"

"What happened in Skyhaven?"

The question earned a small laugh. "Nym. I am okay, I promise.” 

Nymeria glanced at her, it wasn't the answer to the question she'd asked and Miki had evaded it.

Miki's fingers had become tangled together in front of her the way they always did whenever she was thinking too much.

"I didn't ask if you were okay."

"I know."

A pause settled between them. Then Miki laughed softly. "I just have a lot to think about."

The admission sounded honest. "A lot to reassess."

Nymeria nodded slowly.

God.

She understood that feeling. More than she wanted to. "I know how that feels."

Miki turned toward her immediately. Concern appeared almost automatically. The same concern she'd always carried for people she loved. "Are you okay?"

The automatic answer appeared instantly. "Yeah."

The lie survived approximately two seconds. She groaned. "No."

Miki blinked. "No?"

"No."

The response drew a surprised smile from the redhead.

Nymeria rubbed a hand across her face. "I am... confused."

Miki became thoughtful. Then nervous, then thoughtful again.

A process that happened visibly enough to be almost adorable. Finally, she spoke.

"Is this..." She hesitated. "...about Skye?"

This time it was Nymeria's turn to nearly choke. Heat immediately climbed into her face. "Oh my god."

The reaction was apparently confirmation enough. Miki's eyes widened. "Nym—"

"Oh my god."

"I… I… was just guessing!"

"You guessed correctly!"

The poor woman looked like a deer caught in headlights which only made it worse for Nym to see her feel guilty. For several seconds both of them stood there blushing for entirely different reasons before Miki carefully reached over and took her hand.

The gesture was gentle. "What are you confused about?"

The question was asked so sincerely that Nymeria found herself answering before she could stop herself.

"I don't know what to do."

Miki listened.

Nymeria stared ahead at the crowd moving through the street.

At strangers living uncomplicated lives.

At people who probably weren't secretly in love with internationally wanted criminals.

Lucky them.

"I just..." She exhaled slowly. "The world sees him one way."

Miki remained silent.

"And I see him another way."

The words felt strangely vulnerable once spoken aloud.

"I know what people think about him. I know what they're supposed to think about him." Her fingers tightened slightly around Miki's hand. "But every time I'm with him, that's not who I see."

For several moments, Miki simply walked beside her in thoughtful silence.

Then she squeezed her hand. The gesture was small but it spoke volumes

"Nym..." Her voice emerged softly. "When have your instincts ever been wrong about people?"

” Many times… remember the time I told you about those three girls in the academy? Terrible times.” Nym shuddered.

Miki smiled.

"If you feel like he's good..." she said carefully, "or if you feel like he's right for you... then I think you should trust that feeling."

The words settled heavily inside Nymeria's chest. because they sounded like permission to trust herself.

Miki squeezed her hand again.

"And if you're wrong..." A small smile tugged at her lips. "You'll still have me, no matter what. But…but I hope you’re not wrong… I…I don’t think you are… this time around..."

Without thinking, she squeezed Miki's hand back. "Thanks."

Miki blinked. "For what?"

"For being my friend."

The surprise that crossed Miki's face lasted only a second before warmth replaced it entirely.

As they continued walking beneath the golden evening sunlight, surrounded by crowds and city noise and the ordinary rhythm of Linkon carrying on around them, Nymeria found herself thinking that life had a strange way of changing people.

A year ago, she'd looked at a shy girl with orange hair and assumed she'd simply be another colleague.

Now she couldn't imagine any of this without her.

Spring arrived quietly in Skyhaven.

Unlike Linkon, where the changing seasons often announced themselves through crowded parks and blooming city gardens, Skyhaven seemed to welcome spring through light. The floating city existed above weather patterns that affected much of the world below, and because of that, everything felt cleaner somehow. Brighter. The enormous glass structures that defined the city caught sunlight from every angle, scattering gold across walkways suspended high above the clouds. Artificial waterways wound between residential districts and commercial centers, reflecting the pale blue sky overhead while carefully maintained trees had begun showing fresh green leaves after months of winter dormancy.

Nymeria had come entirely on personal business. Business being concert of her favorite idol, Reina.

The novelty of visiting a city without needing to punch something was refreshing.

She had spent most of the afternoon wandering aimlessly through one of Skyhaven’ s central districts, a coffee in one hand and a paper map folded beneath her arm despite the existence of perfectly functional navigation systems. The Farspace Fleet's influence could be felt everywhere. Uniformed personnel moved through the streets with quiet efficiency. Security checkpoints appeared at regular intervals. Information terminals displayed Fleet announcements alongside civilian news. Everything looked immaculate.

Everything also felt heavily monitored.

Nymeria understood immediately why hunters disliked operating there.

Still, she found herself enjoying the atmosphere despite that.

The streets were lively without being crowded. Street musicians occupied designated performance spaces. Small cafés spilled onto outdoor terraces overlooking endless skies. People moved with a kind of relaxed confidence that came from living somewhere relatively insulated from the chaos affecting the rest of the world.

She had just rounded a corner near one of the shopping districts when she spotted a familiar figure.

Orange hair.

Long braid.

"Miki—" The name died in her throat as she noticed that Miki was not alone. For a moment, Nymeria simply stopped walking.

Because beside Miki walked a man she recognized immediately from framed pictures sitting on shelves throughout Miki's apartment.

Caleb.

Holy shit.

He was alive.

Nymeria felt as though half a dozen disconnected puzzle pieces suddenly slammed together inside her brain.

The trip to Skyhaven.

The secret.

The strange looks shared between Delia and Miki.

The way Miki had returned different.

The way happiness had seemed to bloom inside her again. All of it suddenly made sense. Because Caleb wasn't dead. He was less than thirty feet away, walking beside Miki beneath the spring sunlight as though he had never left.

Nymeria remained exactly where she was.

Instinct initially urged her forward. She wanted to wave. She wanted to call out. She wanted answers. Because as she watched them, she noticed something. Neither of them had seen her. They existed entirely inside their own little world.

Miki was talking animatedly about something, her hands moving as she spoke. Caleb listened with the patient attention of someone who genuinely wanted to hear every word. Occasionally he responded. Occasionally she laughed. The expression on her face looked so familiar now that Nymeria wondered how she had ever failed to recognize it.

Miki looked happy.

Not the cautious happiness she'd slowly rebuilt after the explosion.

Not the determined happiness she'd forced herself toward during recovery.

This looked different. This looked like finding something you believed lost forever. This looked like something Miki wanted to keep to herself.

Nymeria understood that feeling better than most. And perhaps because she understood it, she chose not to interrupt. Some secrets weren't hers to reveal. Some unions belonged entirely to the people experiencing them. More importantly, she understood the value of protecting something precious before the world had a chance to touch it.

After all, she had a secret of her own.

His name was Sylus.

With one final glance toward the pair, Nymeria quietly turned away and continued down the street.

For the first time in months, she found herself smiling without reservation.

Because Miki had gotten him back.

And somehow, after everything she'd endured, nobody deserved that more than she did.

If there was one thing their friend group excelled at, it was conducting life-altering conversations in complete secrecy while pretending everything was normal.

Nymeria wasn't entirely sure how Miki managed it.

One day Caleb existed only to Miki. Then eventually the entire group knew. The reactions were... mixed.

Very mixed.

Nobody blamed Miki.

Nobody even came close.

Caleb, however, was another story entirely.

The collective response could best be described as protective outrage

Delia nearly launched into a thirty-minute lecture, repeating things Miki already had heard from her many times.

Star looked personally offended on Miki's behalf.

Sky spent an alarming amount of time asking practical questions that somehow sounded significantly more threatening than Delia's emotional ones.

Nymeria mostly sat there watching the chaos unfold while trying very hard not to laugh.

Because despite the anger, despite the frustration, despite the collective disbelief that Caleb had somehow remained alive while allowing Miki to grieve him for months, there was one thing every single person in that room agreed upon.

If Miki trusted him, they would trust him too.

Under supervision.

Heavy supervision.

The unspoken agreement settled naturally among them. Caleb was on probation. Friend-group probation which was considerably more terrifying. Because every single one of them had witnessed what Miki had endured. They had seen the hospital room, the sleepless nights, the months spent rebuilding herself from the ruins of a life she thought she'd lost.

If Caleb hurt her again, he wouldn't simply be answering to Miki.

He would be answering to all of them.

Fortunately for him, Miki remained hopelessly, infuriatingly forgiving.

Nymeria suspected Caleb's continued survival depended heavily on that fact. Or Delia would have gotten his hands on his neck a long time ago.

Yet as the weeks passed and everyone slowly adjusted to the reality of Caleb's return, Nymeria found herself thinking about something else.

About trust.

About secrets.

About impossible situations.

About the people who occupied the spaces between right and wrong.

Because watching Miki choose to trust her own heart despite everything had quietly altered something inside her. For a year, Miki had carried the certainty that Caleb was gone.

Then reality changed.

The impossible became possible.

The truth turned out to be far more complicated than anyone realized.

And somehow, despite the confusion and hurt and anger, Miki had still trusted herself enough to reach for happiness. The realization lingered in Nymeria's thoughts long after everyone else moved on.

Because every time she thought about Miki and Caleb, her mind inevitably wandered elsewhere.

To silver hair.

To crimson eyes.

For the first time, the idea of telling her friends the truth about Skye’s identity no longer felt impossible.

Terrifying? Absolutely.

Potentially life-threatening? Almost certainly.

But impossible? Not anymore.

Because if Miki could stand before them and say, Caleb is alive and I've known for weeks, and somehow emerge with everyone's love intact, then perhaps Nymeria could survive admitting a secret of a similar magnitude.

Even if that secret happened to be one of the most wanted men in the world.

June 11th arrived wrapped in one of those warm early-summer evenings that seemed to linger forever.

The sun was taking its sweet time sinking beneath Linkon's skyline, painting the city in shades of amber and gold while distant traffic hummed below Nymeria's apartment balcony. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone was grilling dinner. Music drifted faintly from an open window several buildings over.

Normally she would have been messaging Miki nonstop. Miki had an unfortunate tendency to become flustered whenever too much attention landed on her at once. The more people celebrated her, the more she seemed convinced she was somehow inconveniencing them by existing. It was ridiculous. Everyone knew it was ridiculous.

Especially because she deserved every bit of celebration she received.

Still.

Tomorrow was her birthday. And for the first time in two years, Nymeria wasn't entirely sure where she was. Somewhere with Caleb, most likely.

The thought brought a smile to her lips.

A year and a half ago that realization would have felt impossible.

Now it felt inevitable.

The same way sunrise felt inevitable.

The same way Miki finding her way back to Caleb had somehow always felt inevitable, even when neither of them had known it.

Nymeria leaned further back into her balcony chair, letting her head rest against the cushion as she looked toward the darkening sky.

The weekend plans were already taking shape because her two friends who had their birthdays one after the other were busy with their boyfriends.

Delia would inevitably disappear for portions of it because Xavier existed.

Frankly, nobody blamed her anymore. The woman was so hopelessly in love with the sleepy hunter that it had long since become common knowledge among their friend group. Watching Delia and Xavier interact often felt like accidentally witnessing a romance novel unfolding in real time. There was something almost amusingly sincere about it.

Meanwhile Miki would undoubtedly spend tomorrow and the thirteenth with Caleb. Again, nobody blamed her.

The real celebration would happen when everyone returned.

When the entire group inevitably gathered together for food, cake, teasing, gifts, and whatever chaos followed.

Just thinking about it made her smile.

Because somewhere along the way, these people had become home.

When she'd first met Miki all those years ago, she'd never imagined any of this.

She remembered the orange-haired girl from the selection ceremony. The nervous smiles, the constant apologizing, and the way she'd startled whenever someone addressed her unexpectedly.

Back then, Miki had seemed almost fragile. Just... sheltered somehow.

Like someone who had spent her entire life protecting a very soft heart.

Nymeria had been wrong about many things. That had been one of them.

Because fragile things didn't survive what Miki survived. Fragile people didn't endure grief severe enough to hollow them out from the inside and still somehow find a way to love the world afterward.

The woman Miki had become over the past two years wasn't the same person she'd first met.

Yet she wasn't entirely different either.

That was the strange thing about growth. People changed, yet somehow remained themselves.

Nymeria found herself smiling at that thought.

Because Caleb had once been at the center of Miki's world. The way childhood bonds sometimes rooted themselves so deeply into a person's soul that separating one from the other felt impossible.

When Caleb died—or rather, when everyone believed he had died—Miki had been forced to discover who she was without him.

It had been painful. But she had done it.

Then Caleb returned and somehow that changed everything while changing nothing at all.

Because Miki didn't return to being the girl she'd once been. Instead, she became something new. Someone capable of loving Caleb to stand beside him as an equal and not behind him. Someone capable of choosing him rather than depending on him.

Looking back, Nymeria thought that might have been the most beautiful part.

Every day afterward, Miki chose him and Caleb chose her. Because despite everything life had thrown at both of them, they still wanted one another.

The thought lingered.

And inevitably led somewhere else.

Because most roads inside Nymeria's head eventually led toward a silver-haired criminal.

She groaned and covered her face with both hands.

God.

What a disaster.

A year ago, she'd been terrified to admit anything to them.  Now, her friend group could probably identify Sylus's motorcycle from three districts away.

The memory made her laugh quietly.

Miki had been the first one to truly understand.

Not because Nymeria had explained it particularly well. She hadn't. Her explanation had amounted to nervous rambling and vague statements about seeing someone differently than everyone else did.

Yet Miki had understood anyway.

Perhaps because she knew something about loving people despite complications.

Perhaps because she'd spent years carrying feelings that never fit neatly into boxes either.

Friendship was strange like that.

Sometimes the people who understood you best weren't the people most similar to you.

The realization left an unexpected ache in her chest. A good ache, the sort born from gratitude.

Below her, Linkon's lights flickered on one by one as darkness settled across the city.

Tomorrow Miki would turn another year older. Tomorrow she'd probably spend the day with Caleb. She'd probably blush when he gave her gifts. Probably cry over something sentimental.

Then next weekend everyone would gather together.

There would be cake, there would be teasing, there would be photos and there would probably be at least one argument over where to eat.

And Miki would smile that bright, happy smile she'd once thought might be gone forever. The thought alone made Nymeria's chest feel warm.

She lifted her phone and opened her messages. For a long moment she stared at Miki's contact photo. Then she smiled.

Happy Birthday, Miki. Don't be stupid... Use protection ;) Love youuuuuu.

The message wasn't scheduled to send until midnight. But the words felt right all the same.

Because if there was one thing the past few years had taught her, it was that life changed quickly.

People changed.

Relationships changed.

Entire worlds could shift overnight.

Yet somehow, through all of it, some people remained and Miki had become one of those people.

One of the rare few Nymeria knew she would carry with her for the rest of her life.