As the portal closes, Alexia rushes to the man lying on Lemres’s couch, blood pooling beneath him. She grips her staff and speaks in a low, steady voice. A green light blooms across the wounds, spreading until torn skin knits back together.

  “What happened to him?” Alexia asks as she works.

  “The Alien Department tried to kill his girlfriend.” Lemres’s voice is flat, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the room.

  Alexia hesitates, the steady green wash from her staff covering the injured man. “Oh.” She doesn’t press for details. She focuses on the task, letting the magic mend skin and sew muscle closed.

  “I don’t think you realize how far your father’s gone.”

  She keeps her eyes on the wounds. “I’ve seen his interviews. I know what kind of man he is. He’s not going to change. I haven’t spoken to him since the dragon attack.” The glow from her Mahoishi fades as the last injury closes.

  “Ange is a Sakura,” Lemres says quietly, weighing the danger aloud. “If she wanted to, she could burn the rest of the planet to ash.” He turns his staff in his hands, letting the crystals catch the light. “If you can talk to him, make him stop. Because if you don’t…” He meets her eyes for the first time; his voice hardens. “I will. And I won’t be using words.”

  “No—I get it. He’s far from perfect, but he’s still my father.”

  Lemres’s jaw works as he forces his voice level. “We didn’t spend all this time finding a sword to stop a dragon to let him piss it all away. Besides—” He leans forward, eyes narrowing. “Ange is my friend. I’m not going to stand by and watch her get killed.”

  Her lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t argue.

  Lemres sighs, his shoulders lowering a fraction, though the edge in his voice remains. “I respect you a lot, Alexia. But I can’t let anyone—anyone—do what the Alien Department tried to do tonight.” He lets the words hang, his gaze heavy on her.

  “Where—where am I? Ange! Ange!” The man bolts upright, muscles tense, ready to fight whoever’s in the room.

  “She’s alright,” Lemres says firmly, stepping into view. “Everyone’s fine. We were just healing you.”

  Lemres opens two portals. “Alexia, you can go back home. Thank you for your help,” he says before stepping through with Aruku.

  The two teleport to Ange’s house, its wooden boards silvered by years of rain and sun. Ivy climbs the walls, and a crooked porch sags under the weight of rusted lanterns swaying in the wind.

  “You sure you’re alright?” Lemres asks

  Aruku nods, then heads for the door. “Ange? Ange, are you alright?”

  She appears at the top of the steps, and before she can say a word, Aruku runs up and pulls her into a tight hug.

  Lemres strolls up, a sly smile tugging at his mouth. Ange’s response is to flash him a middle finger without missing a beat.

  He puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I didn’t even say anything.”

  “It’s what you didn’t say that’s the problem,” she shoots back with a smirk.

  “Well, I should get out of your hair. I’m sure you two want some alone time,” Lemres says, already glancing toward the street. “If you need me, I’ll be around—even if you don’t want me to be.”

  He flicks his staff, a portal shimmering open behind him. “Now… I think I’ve got some cake waiting. And it looks like nothing’s happening right now.” He checks his phone—only to spot a new message from Markus.

  “Such a busy afternoon,” Ange says.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “That’s one way to put it.” Aruku gives a small laugh. “How about I grab some things for dinner?” He turns toward the door.

  Before he can take another step, Ange’s fingers curl gently around his sleeve. “Um… before you go, come here. I have a gift for you.”

  Curious, Aruku follows her upstairs. The bedroom feels quieter than the rest of the house, the air thick with an expectant stillness. Ange opens the nightstand drawer and carefully draws out a small, glowing stone.

  “This is a Mahoishi,” she says, her voice soft. She places it in his palm and closes his fingers around it. “With this… yes, just like the Dragon Slayer had.”

  Aruku stares at the faint light pulsing between his fingers. “Ange… this is—” His throat tightens.

  “Because I trust you,” she says gently, guiding his thumb to the stone’s center. There’s a faint sting as it takes a drop of blood, and the Mahoishi answers with a warm pulse of light.

  “It should be ready by the time we get back from the grocery store,” Ange says.

  “We? You can stay—” Aruku starts, but she cuts him off, already knowing where he’s going.

  “You just got back. Maybe we can get some ice cream… not because I like you or anything,” she teases, a smirk curling her lips. “I just want to try it.”

  Before he can reply, she leans in and kisses him.

  Aruku freezes for a heartbeat, then smiles against her lips, his hand instinctively resting on her waist.

  She leans in again, whispering against him, “Now that’s because I like you.”

  Aruku takes her hand, and together they leave the forest, the trees giving way to the glowing streets of the nearby city. They head straight into the nearest Mar-Wall to pick up food.

  As they move through the aisles, voices murmur all around. Aruku barely notices at first—until he hears Ange whisper beside him, her tone shaking.

  “I hear them… a monster… she’s scary… the way she’s looking at me is so—so scary. Stop looking at me. Why can’t it stop?”

  Aruku stops and places a steady hand on her shoulder, glancing around at the staring faces and the judgment in their eyes.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says, finishing the last scan at the self-checkout and grabbing the bags.

  “I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” Aruku says quietly as they step outside.

  Ange keeps her gaze low, her hands trembling. “I read their minds,” she whispers. “They hate me. I’m just trying to buy a few things, and they hate me.” Her voice cracks. “Sorry… you’d think after all these years it would stop hurting.”

  Aruku sighs, his voice gentle but firm. “They’re just human. Don’t let them get to you. I’m here.”

  She looks at him, almost disbelieving. “You… you really are staying with me. I can feel it. You don’t hate me.”

  Without a word, Aruku steps forward and wraps his arms around her, holding her close. She melts into the hug, her head resting against his shoulder as her breathing slowly calms.

  Then, without letting the moment linger too long, he kisses the top of her head and steps toward the kitchen.

  “I’ll make you something warm.”

  He pulls out a thick-cut steak and sets it on the stovetop, the pan already hot and ready. The meat hits the surface with a loud sizzle, releasing a burst of steam scented with oil and salt. He adds a knob of butter, crushed garlic, and a sprig of fresh thyme, tilting the pan to coat the steak in spoonfuls of bubbling fat.

  The kitchen fills with the savory perfume of seared beef and herbs. The crust turns a rich, golden brown, crackling slightly as he presses it gently with the back of his tongs.

  Ange watches silently from the kitchen doorway, her arms still wrapped around herself—but her eyes stay fixed on him. On the way he moves, cooks, and plates everything like it means something.

  When he slices the steak, the knife glides cleanly against the grain, revealing a perfect warm-pink center. Juices pool on the plate as he slides it toward her with a quiet, “Careful, it’s hot.”

  She stares at it for a long moment before finally murmuring, “Thank you.”

  The first bite is small, tentative. She chews slowly, letting the flavor sink in. Her eyes flutter shut for just a second. “It’s… really good.” Another pause. “Why are you so nice?”

  Aruku doesn’t answer right away. He finishes wiping down the counter, then leans against it, his gaze steady but gentle.

  “You seem sad,” he says. “And judging by that scar on your wrist… I’m guessing this isn’t new.”

  “Feels off for the Sakura to be read like a book.” She takes another bite, her voice quieter. “So this is what humans feel like.”

  Aruku lets out a soft laugh—not mocking, but warm, almost disarming. “Just promise me—no secrets. I can’t keep any myself.”

  Ange hesitates, studying his face as if weighing the risk. Then she gives a small, deliberate nod, the kind that says she’s granting him something she doesn’t offer lightly.

  Without a word, Aruku slides the plate a little closer to her and cuts another perfect slice of steak, setting it gently on her fork. It’s a simple gesture, but his eyes stay on hers, and she doesn’t look away.

  Aruku leans back against the counter, watching as Ange takes another slow bite. The tension in her shoulders eases, her arms no longer folded so tightly across her chest. Outside, the last light of day filters through the window, catching in her hair and painting the kitchen in gold. The air is rich with the scent of warm steak and the faint, sweet trace of the forest still clinging to their clothes.

  Neither of them moves to fill the silence, unwilling to risk breaking the fragile peace that settles between them.