He sat on the comfy bed, feeding Ari her daily dose of tasty poisonous blood, still thinking about the whole situation.
Not the part where Nora had discovered his secret—he could deal with that later. He wasn't too worried. He knew Nora pretty well. She wouldn't out him.
Not yet. Not until she'd pinned him down somewhere private and dragged every last answer out of him.
And that was a problem for future Shiro.
'Good luck with that, buddy.'
It was the other thing that bothered him.
The way Ana had looked at him. Those soft, pitiful eyes. That gentle 'oh sweetie' tone.
It was almost like they felt bad for him.
He lifted Ari to his face. She blinked at him. Tiny. Pink. Absolutely adorable.
"You don't think I'm an idiot, do you?"
She tilted her head. Then shook it side to side.
'Of course not. You're the smartest person I know. They're just jealous.'
Yeah. That's probably what she said. She hadn't learned her ABCs yet, so honestly he was just guessing.
Then again, he was the only person she knew. So the bar wasn't exactly high.
Frustrated—even his own thoughts were betraying him now—he hopped off the bed and stomped toward the door.
And stopped.
'That bastard left the door unlocked.'
The masked man had come in through the door like a normal person. And left through the window like a lunatic.
'Pick one. You can't do both.'
Once he made it downstairs, Ana and Nora were already eating.
Their reactions to seeing him could not have been more different.
Ana took one look at him and her cheeks inflated like a balloon. She turned away, shoulders shaking, suddenly very interested in her soup.
Nora looked at him like he'd personally ruined her life. Which, to be fair, he probably had.
'Cool. Love this energy first thing in the morning.'
The rest of the crew trickled in shortly after. Everyone except Darius, who was probably still somewhere sleeping off enough alcohol to fill a bathtub.
Richard entered last after the lieutenant and sat down quiet. Composed. One of the most polite and professional things he had ever seen.
Not to mention the atmosphere turned cold. Quiet. Weirdly pressing. Like the air itself was holding its breath for his man.
"So… how did everyone sleep last night?" Shiro asked, trying to revive the dying room.
"Besides the earthquake," Richard said without looking up, "fine."
"Great. Great." Shiro nodded. Took a sip of soup. Wished he was somewhere else.
'Tough crowd.'
"Where did you go early this morning?"
He asked without even looking at Nora.
And the temperature at the table dropped.
Nora opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing useful came out.
Ana—bless her—swooped in.
"She went to wake up our fellow carrier. That's all."
'Thank you, Ana, for making the situation worse.'
Richard didn't move. Didn't blink. He turned to Nora with the kind of slow, deliberate silence that made seasoned warriors nervous.
"I was going to knock," Nora said, a little too fast, "but the door just—opened. The second I touched it."
'Technically true. Blame the masked psychopath.'
Richard's eyes slid from Nora.
The overprotective father's eyes drifted slowly toward Shiro, and it was painfully slow.
His heart stopped.
Which was a perfectly normal reaction when death itself stares back at you from across the table.
"Why didn't you lock your door?"
Before he could answer, Ana cut in. Again. The woman had a gift for timing and an obvious addiction to chaos. And every time she opened her mouth, things somehow got worse for him.
"Oh, Richard. Overprotective as always." She waved her hand like she was shooing a cat. "I give you my word—Shiro won't try anything. The boy thinks babies come from birds. You really think he's capable of what you're imagining?"
"Mind your own business," Richard said coldly.
"So mean." Ana pouted. Not something he wanted to see from a grown woman. His words slid off her like rain off glass. The woman was untouchable.
"Wait—birds and what?" Richard's face twisted in confusion, like the words he'd been preparing suddenly fell out of his head.
Ana—that stupid, devilish, chaos-addicted woman—leaned over and whispered something into his ear.
Richard pulled back. Slowly.
"You're joking."
Concern. In Richard the Gallant's voice. That's something he had never seen.
Ana pressed her fist against her mouth and shook her head. Her eyes were watering.
He looked at his daughter. She nodded.
While simultaneously giving Shiro a death glare. Talk about multitasking.
Richard turned back to him. The dead stare was still there—but it had shifted. The 'stay away from my daughter' energy was gone. Replaced by something he was not a fan of.
Pity.
And it wasn't just him. His lieutenants had joined in. A silent wall of murderous fathers and their equally murderous friends, all looking at Shiro like he was a problem that needed solving.
'Rei, when I die and find you on the other side, I am going to strangle you with my bare hands, you lying, bird-obsessed—'
He stabbed his bread with his fork.
'I swear I'm not an idiot.'
They ate in silence after that. While Shiro cried internally. No words. Just chewing and the occasional clink of a spoon.
But the eyes—the eyes never stopped.
He kept his head down. Focused on the bread. The jam. The soup. Anything but the three sets of eyes burning holes into him from different angles.
'I'm being cooked alive and no one's even lit a fire.'
Then Richard spoke.
"I heard about your physical strength."
Shiro looked up. Carefully.
"How did you get that strong?" A small pause. "And why haven't you joined one of the squads?"
The words caught him off guard. Not because of the question—but because of the tone. It was softer. Almost civil. No hidden blade tucked behind every syllable.
'Is this… progress? Does he hate me less now?'
He searched Richard's face for confirmation.
Cold eyes. Tight jaw. Expression carved from stone.
'Nope. Never mind.'
"Well, I only discovered it recently." He kept his tone easy. Bored, almost. "Every time I take serious damage and somehow don't die, my body comes back stronger." He shrugged. Took a bite of bread. "I tried joining a squad once. Got pushed around. Picked on. The seniors made sure I didn't last long enough to unpack."
Silence.
Richard studied him for a moment. The way you study something you're not sure is useful or dangerous.
"Not a bad ability." His gaze shifted. Darker. "But it's pointless if someone kills you before it matters."
He bit into his bread. Calm.
"Their loss, though. I think Darius would be happy to have you in his squad."
Every muscle in Shiro's body rejected that sentence.
He didn't just laugh—it erupted out of him. Loud. Messy. The kind of laugh that turns heads and makes people question your sanity.
"I am not—" He wheezed. "—joining that back-slapping, ugly, giant, hairy, bald brute's anything."
As soon as those words left his mouth, the air behind him got heavier. A lot heavier.
Everyone at the table stopped eating. Their eyes lifted—not to him, but past him. Above him.
'No.'
He let out a nervous laugh. "He's behind me, isn't he."
Richard smiled.
'My damn luck.'
He turned around.
Darius stood there. Shirtless. Which was a crime against everyone's eyes. The man was somehow hairier than the day before, like his chest hair had been working overtime.
"Who is ugly and hairy?" The brute grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him into the air like he weighed nothing.
Shiro dangled there. Feet swinging. Dignity gone.
But his mouth kept going.
"I said bald too. Don't leave that part out."
Darius erupted. A laugh so loud the plates rattled. So deep it vibrated in his bones.
"I like you, kid. When we get back, you're becoming my student."
"What a nightmare," Ana murmured into her cup.
"No thanks." He squirmed. "I don't want to end up hairy, bald, and brute like you. Now put me down, you animal."
Darius set him down gently. Like placing a kitten back on a shelf. Then he reached over, swiped Shiro's bread without a shred of guilt, and turned to Richard and Ana.
"You two. Let's go. We need to talk."
They stood. But before Ana left, she paused at the door. Turned back. That smile—that terrible, wonderful, evil smile—spread across her face.
"You two behave while we're gone." Her eyes flickered between Shiro and Nora. "And no holding hands. Especially the left one."
Their faces caught fire. Both of them. At the exact same time. Like synchronized embarrassment.
Richard stopped in the doorway. Looked at Ana. Then at them. Then back at Ana.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing," Ana sang, already walking away.
The table went quiet again. But Nora's eyes hadn't moved. Still locked on him. Still waiting.
He tried to ease the tension.
"You could've gone with them."
'Please go with them. Take the death stare somewhere else.'
She didn't even acknowledge it.
"So?"
One word. But it carried the weight of years.
He knew what she was asking. Not one question—all of them. Every single one she'd been saving since the moment his name left his mouth.
"I'll tell you everything, Nora. When the time comes."
It wasn't a lie. He wanted to tell her. All of it. Every ugly, broken piece. But the words were tangled up inside him, and he couldn't find the thread to pull.
The timing wasn't right.
It never felt right.
She stared at him for a long moment. Then stood up. Slammed her palm on the table. The plates rattled.
"Outside. Now."
He stood up and followed her outside.
Not because he wanted to. He just liked living. And doing what she said was the safest way to keep doing that.
And just like that, the future arrived.
'Damn you, past me. You coward.'