Late afternoon sunlight pooled across the apartment floor, painting the matted surface in gold. The air was warm and calm, filled with the soft hum of the city beyond the windows. Yoru sat comfortably by the low dining table, legs tucked beneath her as she cupped her hands around a warm mug of tea.

  Beside her, Aira had her laptop open, surrounded by an explosion of papers, half finished notes, and her ever present camera. The two of them had spent most of the day sorting through the footage they’d captured from yesterday’s chaos—the battle between the Dawn Hound and Echo. Aira did most of the talking, as usual, her words a lively rhythm in the quiet room. Yoru didn’t mind. She liked listening.

  “Look!” Aira said, tapping the trackpad and replaying a clip for what felt like the tenth time. The screen lit up with the moment the Dawn Hound narrowly dodged a projectile. “Did you see that? His reaction time is insane!”

  Yoru leaned forward, watching the clip carefully, her eyes following the fluid motion of the masked vigilante.

  “It really is,” she agreed softly, a small smile curving her lips. “He moves like he’s anticipating everything before it happens.”

  Aira hummed, already launching into a tangent about whether such reflexes were purely human or magically enhanced. Yoru only half listened, taking another sip of her tea. Her gaze lingered on the paused frame of the video—the Dawn Hound mid dash, cloak sweeping behind him in a blur of white.

  The memory was still vivid. The deafening crack of cannon fire. The tremor that ran through the ground as the ceiling began to collapse. The blinding flash of orange, then white. Yoru barely had time to process what was happening before an arm had wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her out of harm’s way. She could still feel it—the steadiness of that grip, the warmth that cut through the cold panic. The flash of white and silver. The masked face she never saw clearly, but would never forget.

  Even now, the memory filled her with a quiet, strange admiration that made her chest tighten and her pulse quicken.

  Aira nudged her, pulling her back to the present.

  “You’re spacing out again,” she teased, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on the Dawn Hound.”

  Yoru blinked, heat creeping into her cheeks. “I—I can’t help it,” she murmured, looking down into her tea.

  Aira laughed, but not unkindly. “Honestly? Who doesn’t? The guy’s saved half the city at this point. It’d be weird if no one had a crush on him.”

  Yoru smiled faintly, though her mind was already drifting again. Her admiration for the Dawn Hound wasn’t new. It went back years—back to when she was still in high school. Back to that night she didn’t like to remember.

  She had been caught in a trap—tied up, helpless, surrounded by the suffocating dark of an abandoned warehouse. Pain had blurred her senses, panic fogging her thoughts, until a flash of light had cut through the dark. He’d appeared out of nowhere, silent and certain, breaking through the nightmare like dawn itself. The white cloak, the steady presence, the effortless strength. He’d freed her, shielded her, and left as quickly as he’d come.

  That memory had never left her. What began as gratitude had become admiration, and over time, something quieter, softer—longing, maybe. Or hope.

  “I just…” she said quietly, breaking the silence. “I just hope one day I can repay him. Or at least be useful in some way.”

  For once, Aira didn’t have an immediate quip. She leaned back, eyes softening, her usual fire tempered by understanding.

  “You already are,” she said. “That’s why you go by your nickname, remember?”

  Yoru blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. Then she smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

  Her real name was Lyla Morvane. A name she’d never quite felt comfortable with—too formal, too fragile, too… unlike who she wanted to be. She’d always struggled with confidence, her voice too quiet, her presence too small. But years ago, in a school play, she’d been cast as the lead character: Yoru, a confident, fearless heroine who embodied everything she wasn’t.

  At first, she’d doubted she could play the role at all—but then she had. She’d become Yoru on that stage. And when the curtain fell, she’d realized she didn’t want to stop being her.

  Since then, the name stuck. Not because she wanted to erase herself, but because “Yoru” reminded her of the person she aspired to be. The girl who could stand firm, even when afraid. The girl who could make a difference. And Aira, ever her biggest supporter, had cheered her on from the very start.

  Yoru took another sip of tea, a small smile tugging at her lips.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “It’s funny,” she said softly. “I picked the name to feel stronger, but… I think I’m still learning what that really means.”

  Aira leaned back on her hands, smiling fondly. “You’re getting there, bestie,” she said simply. “I believe in you.”

  The words landed with a gentle warmth that washed over her. Yoru looked at the paused frame of the Dawn Hound again, the faintest trace of hope flickering in her chest.

  Maybe one day, I can thank him properly.

  The faint sound of keys turning in the lock drew her from her thoughts. She glanced up just as the front door opened and Akio stepped inside. The afternoon light caught the silver strands of his hair as he shut the door behind him with quiet ease. He carried a plastic bag in one hand, his white-collared shirt slightly untucked in that effortless, composed way that made him look both relaxed and impossibly put together. Yoru found herself unconsciously straightening her posture as he crossed the threshold.

  “Akio!!” Aira spun in her seat, beaming in that bright, younger sibling way that filled every room she was in. “Where did you go? You were taking forever!”

  Akio’s lips curved faintly as he made his way toward the kitchen counter. “I got you pastries from that bakery you wouldn’t stop talking about,” he said, tone mild but amused.

  Aira gasped, eyes lighting up. “Wait, really? No way!”

  “Yes way,” he replied, deadpan, but the hint of a smile betrayed him.

  Yoru watched as he began unboxing the pastries with smooth, practiced motions. He moved like someone who had done this countless times before—every action efficient and unhurried, from peeling back the paper to arranging the pastries neatly on plates. The air filled with the warm sweetness of sugar and butter, the scent soft and comforting. When he carried the plates over, the faintest trace of warmth followed him.

  “OMG, I’ve always wanted to try their cream puffs!” Aira exclaimed, kneeling on the couch as he set the plates down. “You’re the best! Wait, since you’re here—can you proofread my article? I need edit suggestions.”

  Akio raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. “Sure. Is it on your laptop?”

  “Yeah, right there.” Aira pointed to her open computer amid a small sea of scattered papers before hopping up. “Okay, I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick—be right back!”

  Yoru’s gaze lingered on the door as it closed behind Aira. The apartment fell into a softer quiet, the sound of the city drifting faintly through the windows. When she turned back, Akio had taken a seat at the low table, now scrolling through Aira’s article. His expression was focused, calm in that unshakable way that made it hard to tell what he was thinking.

  She studied him quietly from where she sat, unsure why she suddenly felt so self conscious. She didn’t know Akio particularly well; most of their interactions came secondhand—through Aira’s stories or when Damien happened to be talking to him. But seeing him this close was different. The details stood out now: the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the deliberate steadiness in his movements, the way his collar sat open at the throat, giving him that effortless, quiet elegance. There was something grounded about him, a dependable calm that seemed to steady the space.

  And yet, beneath that calm, Yoru sensed something else. A subtle gravity. A presence that drew her in without trying to. It wasn’t just that he was handsome—though, admittedly, he was. It was that quiet, unspoken confidence, the way he carried himself like someone who’d seen more than he ever said aloud.

  Something about that made her chest flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

  As if sensing her gaze, Akio looked up from the screen. Their eyes met, and Yoru froze. The realization hit a second too late:

  She had been staring at him this entire time.

  Her heart spiked, heat rushing to her cheeks as she immediately dropped her gaze, suddenly finding her teacup the most fascinating object in existence. The faint reflection of her face wavered on the surface, and she tried to focus on it, anything to look less suspicious.

  Did he notice? Oh no… he definitely noticed… Now he’s going to think I’m weird, she thought, fingers tightening slightly around the handle of her cup.

  The silence stretched just long enough to make her want to vanish into thin air. She could still feel his attention on her—calm, steady, unreadable. The air felt heavier with every second she didn’t look up. Then, finally, his voice broke through the quiet.

  “Would you like some more tea?”

  The question was gentle, polite, without even a hint of teasing or judgment. When Yoru finally glanced up, Akio’s expression was as mild and composed as ever. He was simply being considerate, as though nothing at all were out of place. Somehow, that made it worse. Her stomach fluttered as she quickly shook her head.

  “Oh—no, it’s okay. I’m good,” she said quickly, her voice coming out softer than she intended. “Thank you for the pastries… and for having me over.”

  Akio regarded her for a moment, something faint and thoughtful in his gaze before he gave a small nod and an easy smile. “Of course. Any time. You’re always welcome here.”

  He turned back toward the laptop, resuming his quiet editing. The steady rhythm of keys filled the air once more, blending with the warm hum of the afternoon light spilling across the room.

  Yoru exhaled softly, feeling her pulse slow but not entirely calm. The awkwardness ebbed into something gentler—a quiet kind of comfort. She found herself watching him again, more carefully this time. The focus in his eyes. The relaxed way he leaned forward as he read. The calm authority that seemed to follow him even in the smallest gestures.

  The front door to the bathroom opened with a sudden clatter, shattering the stillness.

  “I’m back!” Aira announced cheerfully, striding into the living room. “Did you finish editing the article?”

  Akio leaned back slightly, glancing up from the screen. “I made a few suggestions and corrected some spelling mistakes,” he said. “Overall, it’s a really compelling article.”

  Aira beamed, practically glowing. “I told you it would be a crazy story!”

  Akio gave her a look somewhere between fondness and exasperation. “Why do you have to pick such a dangerous profession?”

  Aira struck a mock heroic pose, one hand on her hip. “The truth,” she declared, “is often dangerous.”

  Akio let out a quiet, resigned laugh as he stood, shaking his head. “I’ll be in my room. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “You bet!” Aira called after him. “And thanks for the pastries!”

  Yoru watched as Akio disappeared into the hallway, the soft click of his door closing behind him. She lingered for a moment, eyes tracing the empty space he’d left before turning back to Aira, who was already seated again and happily munching on a pastry.

  “Anyway!” Aira said, through a mouthful of cream puff. “Where were we? Oh yeah! The Dawn Hound moves like…”

  Yoru nodded, half listening. Her mind kept drifting elsewhere, back to the quiet calm of Akio’s voice, the steady rhythm of his typing, the warmth of his smile. Each time she thought about him, her heart beat a little faster, and she couldn’t quite explain why.

  It’s probably just because I don’t know him well, she reasoned with herself, tracing her finger along the rim of her teacup. That’s all.

  But even as she told herself that, a small part of her knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Akio