The late afternoon light slanted gently through the apartment windows. Akio sat comfortably on a floor cushion near the low table, one hand wrapped around a cup of warm tea, the other resting idly in his lap. A plate of freshly cut fruit sat between them, evidence of a lunch that had been both filling and pleasantly uneventful. Across from him, Aira leaned against the table, phone in hand, laughing as she scrolled through photos from Cecily’s fashion shoot earlier that morning.

  “Wait—are you wearing makeup?” she blurted suddenly, eyes wide with delighted disbelief as she shoved the screen toward him.

  Akio glanced at the photo, took a slow sip of tea, and sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  The memory surfaced unbidden. Cecily, relentless and radiant, insisting it was necessary. Akio’s immediate refusal. His eventual surrender. It was, after all, just makeup. Damien, on the other hand, had been far more adamant—right up until Yoru had asked, softly and sincerely, if she could do his. Damien had folded instantly. Akio found it oddly difficult to picture anyone else asking the same thing and getting that result.

  In the present, Aira zoomed in, practically vibrating. “Oh my god. Is that eyeliner? I never thought I’d live to see this—this is incredible.”

  “It was a hostage situation,” Akio said with mild despair.

  She laughed and scrolled again, clearly having the time of her life. “Wait, wait—these outfits are insane. Is Gabriel in overalls? Why does Damien look like a mafia boss? And, hold on, you’re doing that thing with your jacket where you don’t put your arms through the sleeves!”

  Akio stared into his tea. “I still don’t understand that, by the way.”

  Aira grinned. “Me either. But it definitely gives you aura.”

  She kept going, enthusiasm unabated. “Cecily is a genius! How did she make a nerdy academic theme look this good? Why isn’t she already a world renowned designer?”

  Akio hummed thoughtfully. Technically, she was. The world just didn’t know that many of the Twin Hounds’ most iconic looks were her work.

  “I’m sure an opportunity will arise,” he said instead.

  Aira gasped at another photo, this one from a different outfit. “WAIT—you look so good in this. Hello?? Are you seeing this? Also—how many shots did it take before you got this pose right?”

  Akio exhaled softly, gaze drifting as he remembered the shoot. The posing had been the worst part. Standing in front of a camera, being told to do something with his body—it all felt deeply unnatural. He’d gone stiff almost immediately, painfully aware of how ridiculous he felt.

  Cecily, mercifully, had noticed. She’d adjusted the direction, encouraging smaller, quieter gestures instead. A hand over the chest. Adjusting gloves. Minimal movement. And whenever something still felt off, Gabriel had been there—effortless, confident, filling the space in a way that made everything look intentional.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever consider modeling as a career,” Akio said at last, lifting his tea again.

  Across from him, Aira didn’t even look up from her phone. She hummed in agreement as she scrolled. “Yeah, I’m honestly surprised you even agreed to model in the first place. Did Cecily blackmail you or something?”

  “Something like that,” Akio replied. His tone stayed neutral, but there was a faint edge of amusement there now, the kind that only surfaced once the ordeal was safely over.

  Aira’s scrolling slowed. She tilted the screen slightly, studying another photo before nodding to herself. “You know… you actually look really good in a lot of these. I think we should recreate some of these outfits. You always wear the same thing every day—these would be insane additions to your wardrobe.”

  Akio glanced down at himself: a simple white button-up, neatly pressed, black trousers, nothing extraneous. Not having to think about what to wear had always been one less variable to manage.

  “But it’s practical,” he said mildly.

  Aira looked up at him. “Not everything has to be practical, and it’s not like you’d be wearing this stuff every day.”

  She set her phone down and stretched, arms raised overhead in a long, satisfied motion. “Honestly, I just think it’s really cool seeing you do stuff you normally don’t.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Akio considered that. The photoshoot had been uncomfortable, exhausting, and wildly outside his skill set—but it hadn’t been bad. And as much as he’d prefer not to repeat the experience, he suspected that ship had already sailed. There was something quietly novel about it all. An experience, if nothing else.

  “Did you take your medicine?” Aira asked suddenly, straightening and leaning forward over the low table.

  Akio’s gaze followed hers to where the medication sat neatly stacked off to the side—iron supplements, painkillers, carefully organized. Almost immediately after the shoot had wrapped, Aira had found him and dragged him to a doctor with a determination that left little room for argument.

  “Not yet,” he said, reaching for the bottles. He tipped a measured dose into his palm. “I’ll take them now.”

  “Remember to take them with your meals,” Aira said, watching closely. “Do you want more tea?”

  “Yes, please.” Akio smiled at her, small but genuine.

  As she poured, his thoughts drifted back to the appointment. The diagnosis had been quick but sobering—stress induced inflammation, moderate anemia, a mild concussion, a burst blood vessel in his sinus. Painful, but not permanent. He’d been lucky. Luckier than he’d realized at the time.

  Aira had been relentless ever since. Making sure he rested. Hovering just enough to be noticeable. Bringing him things before he thought to ask. Akio understood why—he could see the guilt she hadn’t voiced, the quiet fear sitting just beneath her cheerfulness. He didn’t blame her for any of it. If anything, he found the care grounding.

  Aira handed him the tea and then leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. She watched him closely as he swallowed the medicine, her brows knitting together in a familiar frown.

  “The doctor said it was a mild concussion,” she said. “Are you sure you didn’t accidentally hit your head or something?”

  Akio took a measured sip, letting the warmth settle before answering. “No,” he said after a moment. “Not that I recall.”

  Aira squinted at him. “Are you sure? Because I’ve never heard of anyone getting a concussion from just… thinking too hard.”

  “Well,” Akio said, taking another sip, faintly amused, “maybe I did hit my head and simply can’t remember. I do have a concussion.”

  She dropped her face into her hands with a groan. “That doesn’t even make sense. Wouldn’t you remember hitting your head that hard? I swear concussions don’t make you forget that part.”

  “Symptoms vary by person,” Akio replied calmly. “Depending on severity, memory gaps aren’t that unusual.”

  Aira slid her cheek against the tabletop, still unconvinced. “Okay… but the more I think about it, the less it adds up. How do you just… think so hard that you injure your nose? That doesn’t happen without, like, an external force.”

  Akio considered this. “Fragile nasal blood vessels can be hereditary,” he explained. “They can get irritated by stress or even temperature changes. Akiren has the condition. It’s possible I do as well.”

  She lifted her head slightly. “Yeah, but Akiren is, like… delicate. That tracks. I don’t remember you getting nosebleeds like that before.”

  “It could be a new development,” Akio said. “Or I simply wasn’t stressed enough in the past to trigger it.”

  Aira stared at him for a long second, then let herself flop forward again with a frustrated sound. “Ughhh, it still doesn’t make sense! Are you sure you don’t remember crashing into someone? Or falling down? Or literally anything?”

  Akio hid a smile behind his cup. “Nope,” he said mildly. “I have a concussion.”

  She propped herself up on one elbow and scowled at him. “You’re such a dummy, I swear.”

  Normally he might have kept going, but he could see that beneath the irritation and disbelief was genuine worry. The way her shoulders were tense, the way her eyes kept flicking back to him as if checking that he was still there.

  “I really do feel a lot better today than I did yesterday,” Akio said, softening his tone. “Rest is one of the most effective ways to recover from head injuries. I slept for nearly sixteen hours. My head feels clearer, and I haven’t had a nosebleed at all today.”

  What he didn’t say was that his recovery was almost always faster than it should be. That his body rebuilt itself with quiet efficiency, guided by patterns he understood too well. The Fractal governed information, matter, biochemical response. Being attuned to it didn’t just grant power; it meant his body already knew the most optimal way to heal.

  Aira seemed to ease at that, the tension in her posture loosening as she considered his words. She rolled onto her back on the tatami floor and stretched, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Well… I guess it doesn’t really matter as long as you’re feeling better,” she said. “It was just really scary. I keep thinking I should’ve noticed sooner. Or that I should’ve called an ambulance right away.”

  Akio grimaced. “Calling an ambulance in this economy?” he said dryly. “A single trip costs around two thousand dollars. If the injury didn’t kill me, the medical expenses would.”

  Aira shot him a look. “Exactly. That’s why I should’ve called one—because you’d absolutely get up and start walking just to avoid the bill.”

  Akio let out a small laugh at that and shook his head. “I’ll make sure to never pass out like that again,” he said, tone light, meant to reassure.

  Aira immediately sat up and pointed at him, eyes sharp with determination. “And you have to make sure you actually rest until you recover fully. No thinking about that weird physics stuff, or any other stressful things, until you’re better!”

  Akio leaned back slightly, feigning contemplation. “What a shame,” he replied. “I feel like I’ll be awfully bored.”

  She wagged her finger at him, utterly unimpressed. “Well, it’s for your own good. So just try not to, all right?”

  Then, as quickly as her concern had flared, it transformed. Aira shifted forward, leaning onto the table, eyes lighting up with renewed excitement.

  “You know, this is just a coincidence, but speaking of fashion—the Dusk Hound made an appearance today while we were at the hospital. And guess what? He changed his cloak!”

  Akio leaned back further, cradling his tea as she launched into a breathless rant about red and gold leaves. How they shimmered. How they seemed to move every time the vigilante did. Videos everywhere and people losing their minds over it.

  He smiled to himself, quiet and fond.

  Sometimes, it was easy to forget how much more his life contained beyond the weight of being the Dawn Hound. How much of it existed here, in moments like this. In Aira’s excitement. In Gabriel’s steady presence. In Yoru’s quiet sincerity. Even in Damien’s infuriating constancy. He was surrounded by people who cared and listened. Who wanted him to be here—not as a symbol, but simply as himself.

  The realization settled gently, easing something tight in his chest.

  He didn’t have to keep pushing. Didn’t have to shoulder everything alone. Sometimes, the best choice really was the simplest one.

  And so, Akio made a quiet promise to himself.

  This time, he would actually rest.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Gabriel