It was reassuring to see Asta upright again, breathing without strain, moving as though the dungeon had never tried to swallow him whole. Mimosa's magic still glimmered faintly in the air, like warmth left behind after a long night, and it wrapped the group in a fragile sense of safety they had all been craving.
Xierra hovered near Mimosa, offering gratitude far more times than necessary. Her voice came gentle and earnest each time, hands clasped together as if words alone were not enough. Mimosa laughed it off with flushed cheeks, though the attention clearly pleased her.
Inari averted his gaze with a dignified huff, while Miyabi observed from the side, eyes half-lidded with mild amusement. It had been ages since they had seen their master this openly relieved, this unguarded.
Then—
Lime-green eyes snapped open.
Above Asta stretched the open sky, wide and impossibly blue, as if the world itself had exhaled in relief. His breathing steadied, chest rising and falling without resistance. The pain that once threatened to pin him to the earth had faded into something distant, manageable.
He tried to sit up anyway.
"Ow—ow—hey, that still stings!" Asta complained, clutching his back and wobbling like someone decades older than he was. The anti-bird perched stubbornly on his knee, adding insult to injury as his body protested the movement.
Still, he was smiling.
"Asta! Thank goodness," Mimosa exclaimed, relief lighting her face as she leaned closer. "You scared us."
Noelle shuffled forward next, arms crossed tightly as she looked away. Her posture was stiff, chin lifted in practiced pride. "Hmph. Looks like you're fine after all, you idiot."
Despite the sharp words, her shoulders eased the moment she saw him sitting up.
Mimosa clasped her hands together, eyes wide with awe. "Your recovery is incredible. I can't believe how quickly you bounced back."
Yuno and Xierra approached from behind, the former calm as ever, the latter wearing a smile she hadn't realized she was holding back. Yuno let out a quiet breath.
"Asta's tough," he stated. "That's his only virtue."
Xierra caught the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on Asta just a second longer than usual. Concern, carefully hidden. It made her giggle before she could stop herself.
"What was that, Yuno?" Asta barked, energy returning full force as he jabbed a finger into the air. "I've got tons of other strengths!"
He grinned so wide it almost hurt to look at him.
"Like there's no way I'm dying before I become the Wizard King!"
Yuno didn't miss a beat. "I'm the one who will become the Wizard King."
Their voices collided, familiar and bright, filling the space with something that felt like home. The tension cracked, and laughter followed close behind.
Xierra shook her head, amused, then stepped forward with a playful tilt of her chin. "You two do remember I'm here too, right?"
Three gazes turned toward her.
She smiled, steady and sure. "I'm aiming for Wizard Queen."
The words settled between them, not as a challenge, but as a promise.
Inari watched the scene unfold with a rare, unguarded smile.
Warmth gathered in his chest at the sight of it—their laughter, their stubborn declarations, the way life pressed forward despite how close death had come. It pleased him more than he would ever openly admit. Miyabi, standing beside him, knew little of the tangled bonds between humans, yet even he curved his lips upward, sensing something sincere pass through the air like sunlight after rain.
"You three..." Klaus began, his voice cutting through the ease.
He closed the distance with purposeful strides, paying no mind to Asta's wobbling legs or the way the boy nearly tipped over trying to stand properly. Yuno straightened at once.
"Senior Klaus," Yuno greeted.
Xierra followed with a small nod, posture respectful, eyes attentive.
The three orphans waited. Seconds stretched thin, fragile as glass. Klaus stood before them, hands clenched, breath drawn deep, as though gathering words he had never practiced saying aloud.
"I am so—"
Inari and Miyabi tilted their heads in tandem, both genuinely perplexed. "So...?" They repeated the word in low curiosity, as if testing it for meaning.
"—so sorry!!"
The outburst came like a breaking dam.
In the next instant, Klaus pulled all three into a crushing embrace. The world seemed to stall again—not by magic, but by sheer disbelief. The surrounding Magic Knights fell silent. Noelle stared, aghast. Mimosa blinked, stunned. Luck grinned like he had been gifted front-row seats to a rare spectacle by the Golden Dawn.
Xierra's breath left her in a startled gasp, arms pinned awkwardly at her sides. Asta and Yuno shared the same wide-eyed shock, though Xierra was the only one visibly struggling beneath Klaus' unyielding hold.
"I judged you," Klaus blurted, voice tight with regret. "I dismissed you for your origins, for your status. I am ashamed—truly ashamed—of myself!"
Miyabi's gaze sharpened, a thin crease forming between his brows as displeasure skimmed across his otherwise composed features. The proximity was clearly offensive to his sensibilities. "What, precisely, is this boy trying to accomplish?" he inquired, voice polished and cool, as though the answer might somehow restore order to the scene.
"Leave it be," Inari replied, exhaling through his nose as he turned his gaze elsewhere, the faintest edge of long-suffering tolerance seeping through his words. "I have learned that their bonds thrive on chaos. And do not ask how I have refrained from reducing him to ash."
Miyabi hummed once, unimpressed. "I will not," he said, though his eyes never left Klaus' arms, sharp and vigilant, measuring exactly how much closer he dared to pull.
"You are exemplary Magic Knights of the Clover Kingdom!" Klaus declared, voice shaking as conviction took root. "Each of you! All of you!!"
Xierra felt something settle within her chest—not pride alone, but relief. They had stood at death's threshold, brushed against its cold certainty, and returned carrying nothing but each other. In that moment, wrapped in clumsy sincerity and too-tight arms, she knew one thing with quiet clarity.
They were still here.
And that was more than enough.
"Hey, Four-Eyes, it hurts...!" Asta managed to force out, his voice strained as Klaus' arms remained locked far longer than necessary. Xierra, caught between them, had already begun to lose color by the time the vice-captain finally eased his hold.
"Senior Klaus," Yuno cut in, calm but edged with warning, "please dial it down."
"I c-can't... breathe," Xierra added, each word thin, her hands pressing weakly against Klaus' sleeve.
The realization struck Klaus all at once. He recoiled as though burned, releasing the three in a flurry of stiff movements. Color rushed to his face, embarrassment written plainly where pride usually stood guard. Asta stared at him as if the man had sprouted additional limbs.
"What's gotten into you, Four-Eyes?" Asta asked, rubbing his shoulders and wincing.
"What?" Klaus snapped, then faltered. "After I went to the trouble of—!!" His words fell apart before they could form a defense.
Asta leaned forward, squinting. "So... what, you were being a nice guy, Four-Eyes?"
Klaus bristled. "Why, you little—what exactly is a 'nice guy Four-Eyes' supposed to mean?!"
From the sidelines, Mimosa couldn't hold it in. Laughter slipped free as she covered her mouth, eyes bright. "You're just far too serious, Senior Klaus," she teased, stepping closer. "It's a little endearing."
Near them, Inari bent slightly toward Xierra, his tone formal yet edged with concern. "Master, are you unharmed?"
Miyabi's gaze followed Klaus with clear disapproval. "Did that boy really squeeze you hard enough, Master? His restraint leaves much to be desired."
Xierra offered a small smile, still catching her breath. "I'm all right. Really. Don't worry so much."
Luck appeared without warning, energy crackling as usual. "Hey, Yuno. Xierra. Fight me next time," he declared, grin sharp with excitement, as if the recent battle had been nothing more than a warm-up.
Xierra didn't have the strength to respond. Yuno, barely standing straight himself, answered anyway. "No way."
Asta tilted his head, eyes drifting toward Noelle. "Huh? Noelle, your clothes are kind of... shredded." In a bad way.
The realization hit her a heartbeat later.
A sharp cry split the air, followed immediately by the sound of skin meeting skin with undeniable force. The day ended not with ceremony or triumph, but with laughter, shock, and the strange comfort of knowing that death, once so near, had loosened its grip—allowing life, in all its chaos, to continue.
.
.
.
Back within the quiet safety of her room at the Crimson Lion Kings' headquarters, Xierra wasted no time before letting herself fall onto the bed.
The red coverlet—threadbare in places from long use—welcomed her as though it had been waiting all along, folding around her slender frame with familiar warmth. The mattress dipped beneath her weight, the tension finally leaving her shoulders. Inari, standing watch near the window, released a restrained breath. He disapproved of her lack of decorum, yet understood it all too well. Survival carried exhaustion deeper than wounds ever could.
Sleep claimed her quickly.
Night passed without ceremony, and dawn arrived as though summoned by a single breath. Light crept across the stone walls, pale gold spilling through the windows and settling across the room like a benediction. Death had brushed close the day before, close enough to be felt in the bones. Yet morning came regardless, gentle and unafraid, as if to remind her that endings were not walls—but doors.
Xierra stirred early, moving through her routine with practiced ease. She adjusted her uniform, fingers steady, expression calm. While she prepared, Inari's attention shifted elsewhere, sharp eyes tracking movement that felt entirely too energetic for such an hour.
"Good morning, Master." Miyabi darted across the room, his white fur catching the sunlight as he paced from corner to corner, curiosity pulling him forward without restraint. "Are you feeling well enough to be up yet?"
"Oh, I'm feeling fine." Xierra laughed, watching the way his tail swished from left to right, and in repeat, filled with newfound energy and curiosity.
The space must have felt endless to him. Sunlight splashed across polished floors and high ceilings, turning the room into something vast and bright. Miyabi's face shone with unguarded wonder, much like a child stepping into a new world for the first time.
"Master," he called once more, voice lifted with amazement, "I didn't have the chance to ask last night—but how is it possible for a single room to rival the scale of a mononokean itself?"
He spun once, tail flicking behind him, excitement impossible to hide.
Xierra paused, watching him with a fond smile. The sight tugged at something warm in her chest. She remembered her own first days here—how the headquarters had felt too large, too grand, too full of promise. She had nearly burst from it all.
Yet one word caught her attention.
"A mono—what?" she asked gently.
Miyabi halted mid-step and turned toward her, ears perked. He grinned, pleased to repeat himself. "A mononokean, Master."
"A mononokean," she parroted, careful, as though testing the word on her tongue.
"Yes, indeed." He settled down in front of her, posture more composed now, though his eyes still gleamed. "Have you truly never heard of one? I would have assumed you remembered. We encountered one long ago—or perhaps it merely brushed past us. A spirit quite unlike the rest."
Xierra blinked once. Then again.
She searched her memory, fingers brushing the edge of her grimoire as though answers might be hidden within its pages. But her past before becoming a Magic Knight held little knowledge of spirits beyond stories and whispers.
At last, she shook her head, a faint crease of apology forming between her brows. "I'm afraid I don't remember. I only received my grimoire this year."
A quiet pause settled between them, gentle rather than heavy, like the hush that followed a storm once the rain had chosen mercy.
Inari inclined his head, expression composed. "Miyabi," he began, voice measured and deliberate, "she is not the first Whisperer Miyabi has served. It would be wise for you to remember that, just as it would be unkind to expect her to carry the weight of memories that were never hers."
He chose his words with care, careful not to press against places that still felt tender.
Xierra released a small laugh and reached up, patting Inari's head in reassurance. The fox stiffened for a breath—then allowed it, eyes half-lidded in reluctant approval.
"You worry far too much, Inari," she told him, tone light and warm. "I really don't mind hearing about the first Whisperer."
She turned to Miyabi and shifted on the bed, leaving space beside her. "In fact, I would like to know about her someday. But first—" her eyes brightened, curiosity blooming anew, "tell me more about this mononokean. I want to understand!"
The sunlight caught her smile, making it radiant enough to banish any lingering gloom.
Miyabi froze for a moment, surprise plain on his features.
Truth be told, the first Whisperer had not been like this. She had been reserved, distant in ways that felt deliberate. Xierra, by contrast, carried curiosity like a flame—controlled, yet eager to spread. Not reckless like Asta, nor chaotic like the Magic Knights she often found herself surrounded by, but alive in a quieter way.
"My," Miyabi replied at last, a note of amusement threading through his voice, "you are remarkably inquisitive, Master."
He sat beside her, tail folding neatly around himself. "Humans would call you a bookworm, would they not?"
Xierra puffed her cheeks. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to know things. Don't tease me like that."
The reaction earned her exactly what she feared.
Both fox spirits broke into laughter—unrestrained, genuine, the sound of it filling the room with warmth. Xierra blinked, startled, then found herself smiling despite herself. She had never imagined spirits could look and act so... human.
"It brings me great delight," Miyabi admitted once he recovered, eyes crinkling with mirth, "to see the expressions you make when embarrassed, Master."
Inari did not contradict him. His own lips curved faintly, betraying agreement.
Xierra shook her head, amused and resigned. "You're both terrible."
"Perhaps," Inari replied evenly, "but not without cause. It's quite entertaining."
Miyabi straightened then, clearing his throat as his tone shifted into something more formal, though the excitement never quite left his gaze. "That aside, I believe Lord Inari has yet to explain what we truly are."
She hesitated. "He mentioned that you're spirits."
A pause.
Miyabi stared.
"...That is all?"
She scratched her cheek, uneasy. "Yes. Was there supposed to be more?"
Silence followed—not awkward, but vast. The kind that stretched like a horizon, reminding one of how small a single life could feel against the endless.
Inari stood frozen where he was, every muscle locked tight. He did not dare avert his gaze—not even for a blink. He had the distinct sense that doing so would result in his immediate and spectacular demise, roasted no differently from his beloved honey-dipped meat beneath the sheer heat of Miyabi's glare.
"Lord. I. Na. Ri."
The name was spoken piece by piece, each syllable weighed and sharpened before it was released. Miyabi's tone carried no raised volume, yet it struck harder than shouting ever could. A chill ran down Inari's spine, cold enough to steal his breath.
Xierra stiffened as well. For the briefest moment, she could have sworn Miyabi's eyes flashed red—an ember of something ancient and dangerous. Instinct urged her to take a step back, and she obeyed without question.
"I—if you would allow me to clarify," Inari began, voice formal despite the strain threaded through it. "There were circumstances that necessitated discretion."
Fear did not suit him. Xierra realized then just how rare this sight was. Inari was usually the one casting shadows, the one who made Magic Knights and strangers alike think twice before nearing her. Yet now, despite his age and authority, he was the one being hunted—because Miyabi was something else entirely.
"How could you justify withholding such fundamental truths from her?" Miyabi demanded, composure fraying as he advanced. He followed the black fox across the room, steps sharp against the floor. "You had ample time. Ample opportunity. And yet you chose silence."
"I did not choose silence," Inari snapped, retreating just out of reach. "I chose restraint."
"That is not restraint," Miyabi fired back. "That is negligence."
He gestured broadly, tail lashing behind him. "She is your Master. Your duty is to ensure she understands the world she has been bound to. Or were you planning to let her stumble through it blind?"
"Do not test my patience," Inari retorted, fur bristling. "And refrain from addressing me with such familiarity."
"Oh, then do forgive me," Miyabi replied with biting politeness, "for finding your judgment questionable."
Their voices rose, words overlapping, accusations traded without mercy. The room that had felt peaceful only moments before now crackled with tension, their magic pressing against the air like opposing tides.
Xierra exhaled and stood, stretching her arms above her head. A faint ache tugged at her muscles—a reminder of yesterday's mission, of how close the line between breath and stillness had been. Only one night had passed since then, yet it felt longer somehow.
She did not enjoy being cornered by danger, but she accepted it. The mission had come straight from the captain. There had been no room for refusal.
The explanation about mononokean, she decided, could wait.
Her gaze drifted from the arguing foxes to the narrow gap beneath her door. A shadow rested there—still, deliberate. Then came a knock.
"Yes?" Xierra called, tone gentle but clear as she turned toward the door. "Is there something you need, Rhein?"
The brunet greeted Xierra with a grin that nearly matched her own. He lifted one hand in a casual wave while the other settled at his hip, head tilting as he weighed his phrasing with unusual care.
"Well, your room's certainly energetic today," Rhein remarked, eyes flicking past her shoulder. His gaze snagged on the white fox and the unfortunate black one caught in his grasp. A laugh slipped from him before he could stop it. "And it looks like you even found someone new to keep Inari in check."
He cleared his throat, expression shifting into something more official. "The captain asked me to escort you to his quarters for a report. That is—only if you are feeling well enough."
"Feeling well?" Xierra repeated, brows knitting in faint confusion. Her voice remained light, untroubled. "Why would I not be? I rested plenty last night."
Rhein blinked, once, then again. His elongated pupils narrowed, disbelief plain across his face. "Are you really, really certain?" he asked, concern slipping through despite himself. "You can stay back if you need more rest, you know. No one would fault you for it."
She raised a hand, palm open, stopping him before he could spiral further. "Really, I am fine," she reassured him, tone gentle but firm. "There is no need to worry."
He hesitated, clearly unconvinced. "You are... absolutely certain?" he pressed a second time. "Completely? A hundred percent?"
A small laugh escaped her. She stepped closer and tapped his shoulder, putting enough strength into it to make her point land. "Yes. Two hundred. Energy through the roof. You can stop worrying now."
Rhein sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're going to give me gray hair one day."
"Then I'll take responsibility," she replied with a grin. "Now, shall we go?"
She turned, casting a glance toward the far side of the room. The two fox spirits were still entangled in their heated dispute—Miyabi gripping Inari with alarming enthusiasm while the latter struggled with what dignity he could salvage.
"Inari, Miyabi," Xierra called, voice warm. "We are heading to Captain Fuegoleon's office. Will you be joining us?"
"Regrettably, no, Master," Miyabi replied at once, cutting in before Inari could draw breath. His hold tightened, and Inari let out a muffled protest. "I still have several matters to impress upon this... venerable fox."
Inari attempted to retort, only for Miyabi to slap a tail firmly over his mouth. The glare he cast on the older fox could have scorched stones to black.
Then Miyabi turned toward Xierra.
The shift was immediate. The sharp edge of his presence melted away, replaced by something bright and composed. His smile was polite, almost serene, as though he had not just threatened immolation moments earlier.
"Please do not concern yourself with us," he said, tone refined. "Attend to your duties. We shall... resolve our discussion shortly."
Rhein and Xierra both paused. For just a heartbeat, it looked as if the air around Miyabi shimmered, gentle and warm, like spring light spilling through an open window.
Xierra smiled, unperturbed. "All right, then. Do not be too harsh with one another."
"We shall try," Miyabi answered smoothly.
From behind his tail, Inari made a sound of fierce disagreement.
"Oh, and do not concern yourself with us further, Master," Miyabi added late, the edge of amusement slipping back into his tone. "You may proceed with that rather fine-looking human over there."
Rhein chose not to acknowledge the sudden chill that crept along his spine when Miyabi's scrutinizing gaze slid briefly in his direction. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, releasing a steady breath as if shaking off the sensation, then motioned toward the corridor.
"All right, then. Let's get going, bud," he said, attempting an easy grin. After a step, he glanced back despite himself. "But, are you sure those two will be all right?"
His eyes lingered on the sight of Inari—once an unshakable presence—currently restrained beneath the grip of another spirit who looked far too pleased with himself.
"They don't appear to be on the best of terms," Rhein added carefully.
Xierra slowed, her gaze drifting back as well. Unease flickered across her features, brief but honest. The two spirits stood locked together, power brushing the air in quiet waves, old history pressing between them like an unseen weight.
Yet she remembered other moments—different times, different lives—when those same presences had stood side by side without question.
"They'll be fine," she replied, voice gentle. A pause followed, then a small amendment. "Most likely."
Rhein snorted. "You don't sound too convinced there, Xierra."
Her lips curved, faint but sincere. "Then let's leave before I overthink it."
"Understood, Ma'am," he mock saluted, turning on his heel and leading the way down the hall.
Behind them, the door closed on raised voices and clashing wills—two beings settling past grievances—while Xierra followed Rhein forward, trusting that some bonds, no matter how strained and old, knew how to survive.
Well, she hoped they would get along.
To whatever gods were out there, at least let her room stay intact by the time they got back.
.
.
.
"...Why are we here again, Master?" Inari asked, evident displeasure threading his voice. Though both fox spirits remained concealed among the flow of people, Xierra could feel the weight of their presence—ancient and restless—pressing against the air.
"We are to report on our prior dungeon mission, Inari," Xierra replied gently. Her steps remained steady as she and Rhein turned a sharp corner, stone walls giving way to broader streets washed in morning light.
Several days had passed since Rhein and Xierra were first summoned to Captain Fuegoleon's office. What they had expected to be a brief debriefing instead unfolded into something far more ceremonious. The captain, composed yet unmistakably proud, informed them of an upcoming gathering—a formal commemoration held by the Knights' Headquarters, where Magic Knights who had distinguished themselves would be recognized directly by the Wizard King. The days that followed were a strange mix of pride and dread. Rhein complained endlessly, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration, insisting he had no desire to stand before nobles and royalty alike. Leopold, relentless in spirit, and Xierra, patient but firm, left him no room to escape. Meanwhile, Inari and Miyabi bickered without pause, their disputes filling every quiet corner with sharp words and older grudges, leaving neither rookie with a moment of peace.
Now, they made their way through the royal capital on foot, the road sloping upward toward the Knights' Headquarters. The city unfurled beneath the rising sun—white stone glowing, banners stirring overhead. Rhein, however, was far less poetic about it. His breathing grew labored with each incline, shoulders sagging as he muttered complaints under his breath, while Xierra slowed her pace just enough to stay beside him.
"Well, well! If it isn't the fine people of the Golden Dawn," Asta's familiar voice cut through the calm, exaggerated into something almost noble.
Rhein's hope that the Black Bulls might overlook them dissolved instantly.
"Ah! Xierra and Rhein are here as well!" Mimosa greeted brightly, clapping her hands together. Her smile carried the freshness of morning itself, warm and effortless.
Rhein realized far too late that hope had been a foolish thing to entertain.
Of course, the other squads would notice them. And of course, fate would drag him straight into the center of it all.
What luck was this? What twisted mercy decided that, of everyone in the capital, he should be cornered by not only Asta and Noelle, but Mimosa Vermillion as well? A bad day to wake up all jolly and healthy, it seemed to him.
He racked his mind for some past wrongdoing that might have earned him such punishment, coming up empty. If the world had a grudge against him, it had never bothered to explain why.
Still, habit won over irritation. He offered them a polite nod.
"Good morning, Mimosa. Noelle. And Senior Lunettes as well, I see." Rhein's gaze flicked between them, courteous but tired. "Well done on your last mission."
He noticed it then—how Klaus hovered closer than usual, eyes alight as he inspected Asta and Xierra for any sign of harm, then to Yuno. There was something almost childlike in his expression, starry-eyed and sparkling more than before, a sharp contrast to the stern figure Rhein remembered.
Leaning closer, Rhein bent down toward Xierra and whispered, "Did Senior Lunettes... change somehow? He's being oddly welcoming. That's not something I expected in this lifetime. And not certainly from someone of his status."
Xierra offered only a tight, uncertain smile.
"Well... I wouldn't say anything happened."
"Everything happened," Yuno interjected flatly, appearing beside them without warning. Both orphans released a shared breath.
Asta, finally freed from Klaus' intense inspection, straightened and flashed his usual grin at the group, all bright teeth and boundless energy. "Hey! Glad you're all here!" he declared, as if they had gathered for a festival rather than a formal procession.
Mimosa met his smile—just for a heartbeat. Color rushed vividly to her cheeks, then her ears and neck, before her eyes darted away. Turning on her heel and all but bolted, Mimosa's robe fluttered behind her as she disappeared to the side of a nearby building.
Flabbergasted, Asta froze mid-wave.
"...Huh?" He stared after her retreating figure, brows knitting in genuine confusion. "Why did she run away?"
Yuno followed Mimosa with a glance before looking elsewhere, tone even and merciless. "Maybe she was shocked to see how short your arm was?"
The air seemed to stop.
Xierra and Rhein exchanged a look, both of them painfully aware of the disaster unfolding in real time.
Asta's face went blank—then red. "Yuno," he snapped, voice climbing fast, "you jerk! What the heck was that for?!"
Yuno offered no apology, only the faintest tilt of his head, as if the statement had been an objective observation rather than a calculated strike.
A quiet snicker slipped from Inari before he could stop himself, quickly joined by Miyabi's restrained amusement. For all their friction and carefully measured disdain, it appeared they shared a mutual respect for a well-placed jab. Inari, clearly less invested in decorum, let out a low guffaw as he lingered close to his master. "A brilliant insult," he remarked, satisfaction threading his voice.
"Huh."
That was all Rhein offered, the sound trailing into a subdued snicker that blended easily with the foxes' unbothered laughter. His gaze drifted back to the sable-haired boy at the center of the outburst.
So this was the other one from Hage. Yuno stood just a fraction taller than him—barely enough to matter, yet enough to sting. Rhein clicked his tongue inwardly. He would never admit to losing a battle of height, a mere two centimeters, to someone his age. And as for looks, and that irritating air of effortless popularity... well—some battles were best ignored for the sake of dignity. He nodded to himself, sure and convinced.
Still, he had heard things. Bits and pieces carried through Inari's commentary, half-muttered thoughts, and unsolicited conversations. The confession. The unresolved tension. The painfully obvious affection circling without ever landing where it should. Rhein's mouth curved further, a sharp glint of amusement lighting his eyes.
Oh, this would be entertaining.
And perhaps—just perhaps—he could be persuaded to lend fate a little push. Playing matchmaker wouldn't kill him, right?
Xierra hid her dimming laughter behind her hand, following behind Inari and Miyabi's audible entertainment, shoulders shaking just a little. When she lowered it, her gaze drifted—and caught sight of Noelle, standing rigid, eyes fixed on the distant outline of the Vermillion estate, hands trembling at her sides.
"What's wrong, Mimosa?"
Noelle stepped closer, her brows knitting as she took in the way Mimosa had backed herself into a corner of their small circle, shoulders drawn tight as if bracing against an invisible tide. Confusion colored the young Silva's face, sharp and unguarded. Xierra followed a pace behind, her own steps slowing, her gaze attentive rather than alarmed.
Mimosa pressed herself against them both as if their presence alone might anchor her.
"Miss Noelle, Xierra, what should I do?!" she blurted, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. Her slender fingers rose to cup her cheeks, which radiated heat beneath her palms.
Xierra tilted her head slightly, studying her. She couldn't tell whether the warmth staining Mimosa's skin came from the closeness of their bodies or from something far less tangible—and far more dangerous.
Mimosa swallowed. "Um, I... I—!"
She turned suddenly, as though courage had struck her from behind, and revealed a face flushed so vividly it rivaled the deepest crimson roses in bloom. Her eyes shimmered, wide and uncertain, caught somewhere between fear and longing.
The answer settled into Xierra's chest before Mimosa ever voiced it. With a slow breath, she offered a small, knowing smile—one edged with sympathy.
"When I see Asta, my chest starts to hurt," Mimosa confessed, her voice shaking despite her effort to steady it. "Ever since that day, he's all I've been thinking about." Her hands clenched at her sleeves. "What... whatever's the matter with me?"
"Ah," Xierra exhaled, the sound gentle, resigned, and familiar. She had known the feeling the moment Mimosa spoke all too well. She had lived it herself—every stolen glance, every unguarded heartbeat whenever Yuno stood too close.
Noelle froze.
For a heartbeat, for two, she stared at Mimosa as if the world had tilted beneath her boots. Then—
"What?!"
The word burst from her with enough force to rattle the air. Xierra flinched, raising her hands to shield her ears, while Mimosa shrank back instinctively.
"And then I just ran off like that..." Mimosa continued, her voice trembling as she spoke over the aftermath of Noelle's outcry. "Do you think he hates me now?"
Her imagination raced far ahead of reason, spiraling into places only the anxious could reach. Watching her, cheeks still aflame, eyes darting with worry, Xierra had to bite back a laugh. She turned away slightly, covering her mouth, amusement slipping through despite herself.
Some things, it seemed, were universal.
Whether between girls or just the feeling of young love.
Noelle seemed to forget how speaking worked.
Her mouth fell open, her expression caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief as she searched for words sharp enough to house the storm churning inside her. "Why that guy?!" she finally blurted, hands clenching at her sides. "That short, stupid, loud, back-country—!!"
She cut herself off, breath hitching as if even she could hear how frantic she sounded.
Mimosa let out a brittle laugh, nerves tangling her movements. "But... but that's all part of his charm," she replied, forcing cheer into her voice. "That, and—well—the way his arms don't quite match the rest of him." Her face burned brighter with every word.
Xierra stayed quiet, watching the exchange unfold like a candle burning at both ends. Noelle's composure unraveled piece by piece, while Mimosa folded inward, shy and earnest. A familiar ache settled in Xierra's chest, heavy with recognition. She released a slow breath, the kind that came with acceptance rather than surprise.
Two figures shimmered into being at her side.
"Oho?" Inari drawled, eyes gleaming as his lips curved upward. His tails swayed with deliberate interest, ears twitching as though savoring the moment. "So it is as I suspected." His voice smoothed into something refined, almost indulgent. "Youth, indeed, is the pinnacle of human existence. To witness affection bloom in such unguarded ways—it is... fascinating."
"You speak as though this is foreign to you," Miyabi replied, arms folding with restrained ease. "Which is ironic, considering your fondness for commentary."
Inari shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "Mind yourself. Do not ruin this rare, delightful scene with your interruptions."
"Hmph," Miyabi answered, unimpressed. "I merely state what is obvious. Sentimentality does not suit you as well as you believe, Lord Inari."
The air between them tightened, tension crackling without a single spell cast. Their stares locked, neither yielding ground.
Xierra shifted, warmth prickling at her skin as if she stood too close to an open flame. She should have asked them to stop. She should have intervened.
Instead, she smiled.
Their constant friction had become strangely comforting—like a reminder that she was not alone, even when chaos followed her steps.
That comfort was shattered almost immediately.
"No matter," Inari announced, straightening with sudden resolve. "I have already compiled a list of suitable candidates for my master's." He paused, then corrected himself with confidence. "No. I will select one for her. Left to her own devices, she would never decide."
Xierra blinked. "Inari—"
"She is hopeless where men are concerned," he continued, puffing his chest. "This will provide me with purpose for a while."
"Oh?" Miyabi stepped closer, the same sly curve touching his lips. "Men, you say."
Something was known in his tone—something sharp yet careful, as though he understood exactly what he was implying.
Someone, perhaps, who would stand beside her through sorrow and warmth alike.
"I would gladly partake in this, Lord Inari," Miyabi offered, far too smoothly for something Xierra had prayed would never be voiced aloud—especially not with another spirit present to encourage it.
The words landed like a spark to dry tinder.
Xierra's face warmed in an instant, heat racing from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Her hands lifted on instinct, fingers curling as if she could gather the moment and hide it away before it grew any larger. "Miyabi, please," she urged, her voice gentle, almost pleading. "This is not necessary. I don't need another to meddle in my love life."
Inari's eyes gleamed with triumph rather than restraint. "On the contrary," he replied, posture straight and dignified, "it is entirely necessary. A master of my standing cannot be left unattended in matters of the heart. Preparation is prudent."
"That is precisely what concerns me," Xierra answered, mortification threading through her calm.
Miyabi's lips twitched, amusement barely restrained. "You see? Even now, she hesitates. Guidance is clearly required."
That did it.
With a defeated sound, Xierra lifted her hand and released the wisps she trusted more than most living beings. Pale lights unfurled from her palm, darting forward with playful intent as they chased after the cackling foxes. Their laughter rang bright as they retreated, voices fading as they vanished down the path, still bickering, still plotting.
Left behind, the air felt quieter—lighter.
Xierra exhaled, shoulders easing as the tension slipped away. Nearby, Mimosa and Noelle remained tangled in their own confusion, feelings too large for their hearts to hold. There was something fragile about it all, something unpracticed and honest. Affection that arrived without warning and refused to ask permission.
Xierra watched them with a small, knowing smile.
Young love was reckless in the most beautiful way. It stumbled, blushed, and spoke too quickly or not at all. It ached before it understood why, and hoped before it learned fear. Watching it bloom felt like standing before the first sunrise after a long night—uncertain, radiant, and impossible to forget.
Perhaps that was why it frightened everyone so much.
As the capital stretched before them, bathed in warm light and distant promise, Xierra followed the others forward. Whatever awaited them at the Knights' Headquarters, whatever trials and celebrations lay ahead, this moment—fleeting and sincere—felt like a quiet blessing.
And for now, that was enough.