Naomi laughed, a small sound that vibrated through my chest where she pressed against me. For a moment, everything felt almost normal. Just a guy and his girlfriend sitting on a couch after a rough afternoon, making jokes about their aggressive squad leader. The kind of domestic normalcy I’d never really had in either of my lives.

Then my phone buzzed with another text and the illusion shattered.

"Come on." I stood up and offered Naomi my hand. "Let’s go face the firing squad."

The walk across campus to the training facility took about eight minutes at a normal pace. We made it in six, Naomi’s shorter legs working double time to match my stride. The evening air had cooled from the afternoon heat, carrying the smell of salt from the distant ocean and something floral from the gardens we passed. Other students moved around us in clusters, heading to dinner or study sessions or whatever else normal academy life involved.

I wondered how many students on this campus carried burdens like Hikaru’s. The weight of things that couldn’t be spoken aloud, identities that had to stay buried. Probably a lot more than anyone wanted to admit.

The training facility appeared ahead. Two massive metal doors with the Obsidian raven carved into their surface. I yanked one open and stepped aside, holding it steady while Naomi passed through. She glanced up at me with that soft smile, the one that made the stupid chivalrous gesture feel less stupid and more... right. Like it mattered that I’d bothered.

Inside, the rest of the Midnight Foxes had already claimed one of the smaller combat simulation rooms. Belle stood in the center of the space with her hands on her hips, her modified uniform showing more skin than regulation allowed and her expression promising violence. Jordan leaned against the wall with his phone out, probably playing that puzzle game again. Misato occupied the far corner, arms crossed and eyes sharp, looking like she was already mentally composing a report on why we were unacceptably late.

Belle’s head whipped toward us the moment we entered.

"Forty-three minutes." Her voice could have frozen lava. "You were supposed to check equipment with Vale and you’ve been gone for forty-three minutes. Either you died and came back to life, or you better have the most impressive excuse in the history of excuses."

"Administrative complications." The lie rolled off my tongue smooth as silk. "You know how Vale is. Once he starts talking about mana circulation theory, you can’t get him to stop."

Belle’s eyes narrowed. She looked at me. Then at Naomi. Then back at me.

Her expression shifted from suspicious to knowing in the span of about two seconds.

"Administrative complications." She drew the words out like she was savoring a particularly good piece of chocolate. "Is that what we’re calling it now? Because Naomi’s lipstick is smudged and your collar is crooked and you both have that look like you’ve been doing something way more interesting than discussing equipment protocols."

Naomi’s face turned approximately the same shade as a tomato.

"Belle, that’s not—"

"Hey, no judgment here." Belle held up her hands in mock surrender, her smug grin spreading wider. "If you two needed to work out some tension before the big mission, who am I to interfere? Communication is important in a relationship. Physical communication. The kind that requires a locked door and soundproofing."

"We weren’t—"

"I’m just saying, I’m happy for you both. Really. Getting in some quality time before we potentially die in a forest dimension full of monsters? Very romantic. Very practical."

Jordan looked up from his phone with the expression of someone who had just tuned into a conversation he wanted no part of. "Do I want to know what’s happening?"

"Jace and Naomi just spent forty-three minutes allegedly discussing equipment with Vale." Belle made air quotes around allegedly. "Draw your own conclusions."

"I’d rather not draw anything, thanks." Jordan returned his attention to his screen. "Some things are better left as mysteries."

Misato cleared her throat.

The sound sliced clean through Belle’s commentary. My head turned without conscious thought, tracking the source. Misato. Of course.

The common room shifted. Jordan’s phone dropped half an inch. Belle’s smirk faltered at the edges. Even the distant hum of other conversations seemed to quiet. Not fear exactly. Just the reflexive recognition that someone with actual authority had entered the conversation.

"We have today and tomorrow to prepare for the combined operation with Blair’s team." Each word carried weight behind it, trimmed of excess. No space for jokes. "The briefing is oh-six-hundred Friday morning. Deployment at eighteen-hundred. That gives us forty-six hours to establish formation protocols, communication standards, and tactical contingencies for a C-rank forest biome with higher-than-expected entity density."

Her attention found me. Direct. Focused. The kind of look that peeled back pretense like layers of cheap paint. Hikaru had that same quality sometimes, that ability to strip away the comfortable distance I kept between myself and the rest of the world. Different execution though. Hikaru’s intensity was cold and surgical. Misato’s burned.

"Whatever you were actually doing for the past forty-three minutes, Monroe, I don’t care. What I care about is whether you’re ready to work now."

"Ready and willing." I gave her a casual salute that probably looked more sarcastic than respectful. "What’s the plan?"

"The plan is to figure out how to work alongside a team that hates us without getting killed by either the monsters or Blair Davenport’s inability to share spotlight." Misato pulled a tablet from somewhere and started tapping at it. "I’ve been analyzing their combat footage. Marcus is their defensive specialist, earth manipulation with focus on barrier construction and terrain control. Elena handles illusions and sensory interference. Trevor is pure physical enhancement, strength and durability focused. And Blair..."

"Blair is a walking disaster waiting to happen?" Jordan offered.

"Blair is their primary damage dealer and will absolutely not defer to anyone else’s tactical judgment." Misato’s mouth pressed into a thin line. "Her fire manipulation is S-rank potential and she fights like someone who’s never had to worry about friendly fire in her life. We need contingencies for when, not if, she goes off-script."