For the second time in as many days, I woke up on the couch. The front room was flooded with sunlight, and I had to shield my eyes with my hand. I felt a warm presence nestled into the nook made by my legs and stomach as I rested on my side. Taiga's mottled head was resting on her arms as they extended out in front of her. Black and orange pointed ears twitched at my movement, but otherwise her eyes remained closed. I could hear her soft, even breathing in stillness of the house.

Trying not to jostle her, I reached out to the coffee table in front of me and found my glasses. My vision was improved, if not my sense of dislocation. Taiga slitted her eyes open in disapproval. Then she extended her claws and pulled her body back in a lithe stretch and wide yawn, before deciding this was the perfect time and place for a feline bath. I sat up to avoid her kitty morning breath, and she paused with her rear leg held high in the air and looked back at me in offense.

I was still squinting as I picked up my phone from the coffee table and checked the time. It was 12:46pm. I massaged at the stiffness in my neck and shoulders and threw aside the rest of the comforter. I was wearing a lengthy, soft night shirt and light grey striped lounge pants. I rubbed the crust from my eyes and blearily looked around. Recalling last night's/this morning's events, I glanced toward the hallway where I could just see the bedroom door. It was still closed. Assuming Bushra was still asleep, I stood up and stepped into some nearby slippers against the cold floor. Then I made my way across the creaky old wooden floors to kitchen. The concept of coffee consumed my thoughts and promised a purchase on the conclusion of the past night's events.

Cup. Water. Pod. Button. Interminable, immeasurable, inexhaustible, illimitable infinity. Sugar. Drink. Aaahhhhh.

"You look like you've received a revelation." Bushra stepped into the kitchen, wearing the same clothes from last night, if more rumpled. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and her eyes drooped in fatigue. But her complexion was healthy and her smile was lively, a far cry from her appearance the previous night.

"I have," I answered seriously. "Coffee is God. I forsake all other unworthy deities for the one true divinity. Behold its power!" I held the cup aloft in reverence, and then brought it to my lips for another sip.

"Well, I think Iter might be sad to hear that, Saint Mai," she chuckled. "I don't suppose you have more of that tea around?"

"Iter can go worship himself," I replied, opening a cupboard and showing her the cannisters. Then I went to fill the kettle and turn on the burner on the stove. "Would you like anything else for breakfast? I haven't had time to do any shopping as I've recently been hit by a car, started a company, and kidnapped. Provisions are a bit thin as a result." I opened the refrigerator and discovered some leftover machaca from Rose's I had on… Sunday? It was probably still good. Besides that, there was little else save condiments, wilted vegetables, and alcohol. It looked like a college dorm refrigerator. Frankly, it was embarrassing. "Uhm. I have some leftover machaca…" I trailed off.

"Just tea for starters, thanks," she demurred, but as if decreed by the god of comedy, right at that moment her stomach let out a plaintive gurgle. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she covered her midsection with her hand in a futile gesture.

"Why don't we go out and get something more substantial." I smiled, and she grinned back sheepishly.

✦ ✦ ✦

"Irasshaimase!" came out in a chorus from the very busy staff as we stepped into Sanjuro's Sushi Restaurant. It was actually the first location, as they'd launched a second, larger one on the island recently. But I'd been going to this place for years, since they first converted it from a failed cheesesteak eatery. The menu was broader than just sushi, the food was delicious, and the prices were unpretentious. But above all, I adored the art the owner put up around the place – heavy black brushwork on white laminate wood of various figures from Japanese film and anime like the Seven Samurai and My Neighbor Totoro.

"Two please," I called out to the host at the cashier station, a younger woman in a green apron and shiny black hair pulled back in a short pony tail. Entering the restaurant required going down a shallow ramp past the open kitchen, the low ceiling giving the space an intimate rather than cramped feeling. Surprisingly for the hour, there was no line, and the smiling host seated us at a table in a rear room right away. I thanked Luck for the possible assist as we threaded through the narrow pathway lined with crowded diners. Menus were efficiently deposited in front of us, and I requested tea and water before the host vanished back into the throng of patrons.

"I'm not much for sushi," Bushra said uneasily across from me as she opened the menu.

"Don't worry, they have several non-sushi options. I recommend the spicy seafood ramen, if you're okay with a little heat," I suggested.

"Please. I was practically nursed on Masala," she smirked, and searched for the dish on the menu as if challenged.

For myself, I liked to keep it simple. I barely glanced at the menu, before giving up and going with my usual order of Sake Nigiri, Hamachi Nigiri, along with some miso soup, edamame, and tempura. Some day I'd try one of the more elaborate rolls, or maybe opt for the katsu curry. But today was not that day.

After relaying our orders to the waitress (Bushra had gone with the ramen and an order of tempura as well), I looked across the table at Bushra. She was looking to the side at one of the magnificent full wall murals of Toshiro Mifune from one of his many rōnin roles.

"So how're you feeling?" I asked. I'd checked on our way here, and Bushra's Health was back up to full. But I wondered how she was taking everything.

"Hungry, but a thousand percent better than last night," she turned back toward me. "Iter said that was because of that thing I used? A skill?"

"Yeah," I grimaced. "One of the skills I picked for you, Radiant Strike, apparently consumes Health." I tried to put up an apologetic smile, but it started to crumble almost immediately, and I looked away.

She was silent a moment. I braced myself for her recrimination. I couldn't stand it anymore and looked up and searched her face. She was focused inward and biting her lower lip.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"So you can see all of that for me, my skills and things?" she asked finally.

"Hunh? Yeah," I replied, off balance. That wasn't the direction I thought she was going. "Your attributes, skills, even your inventory."

Her eyebrows raised at that last one, then immediately dropped in a confused frown, before she shook her head. "I don't know why, but knowing you can see the inside of my bag seems more worrisome than that you can see information about my body and stuff for some reason?" A small, confused smile played about her lips.

"Uhm, would you like to know what your Status says?" I asked. It felt only fair to level the playing field a little bit.

"Yeah," she accepted, nodding. "Can you do that? Show it to me?"

"Not exactly," I answered, then reached into my bag for a pen. I didn't have any paper, but I took a paper napkin and started writing out what I saw on her Status page.

"That's surprisingly low-tech. Or, low-magic?" She stumbled trying to find an analogue, then laughed. "I dunno, I was expecting something more fantasy-esque, like a Marvel movie."

"Yeah, well get used to disappointment," I made a face as I continued writing. "None of this has ever gone like I expected." I finished transcribing her Status screen and handed it over.

Bushra took the napkin, and looked it over with a scrunched up expression. I answered questions as best I could about what each attribute and skill meant and how it worked, based on what I remembered or experienced.

"So I'm stronger now," she murmured, eyes scanning the napkin.

"Not only strong, but Body applies to a number of physical traits, like stamina, general health, and resistance to things that affect that. You should have a higher alcohol tolerance now, for example." I raise my water in salute.

She frowned, possibly remembering the whiskey last night. Then her brows relaxed, but her mouth remained pursed in thought.

At which point the waitress arrived with our food. She set down a huge bowl of ramen in front of Bushra, two plates of tempura and a plate of edamame in the center of the table, and then miso soup and two small plates of nigiri sushi in front of me. The aroma of the rich broth from Bushra's ramen flowed across the table, and I reconsidered for a moment my lack of adventurousness. With a slight bow, the waitress left the table, and for the next few minutes we ate in silence.

"What's a paladin?" Bushra asked at last, dipping her chopsticks in the bowl to pull up several long noodles and blow on them.

I thought as I bit through the crisp texture of the piece of tempura I was eating. "It's kind of like a knight or champion?" I finally replied after swallowing. "Different games have different expressions of the class." I tried to think of an easily recognizable comparison. "Think Captain America, from Avengers."

She grinned wryly. "I'd like to be Captain Marvel more. Flying around firing lasers sounds better than throwing a shield."

"She was pretty badass," I agreed. "But a paladin," I continued, "tends to be focused on protecting others. They draw their strength from their devotion to an ideal or oath."

"I need to swear an oath?" Bushra's brows went up, as she slurped her noodles from the bowl.

"Uhm, I'm not sure? It's generally used for flavor or roleplay purposes in games, but there are mechanical aspects to it sometimes." I looked at her concerned face and added, "Usually you'd need to take an oath to take the class. In your case, you already have it, so I don't think it's absolutely required?" Normally I'd ask Iter about something like this. I wondered how long it would take to do whatever it was he and Lex were doing.

"Hmph," she replied between mouthfuls.

"By the way, we can both level up again. It happened after I picked up that ring from Bruce."

"What really?" Bushra held her chopsticks and ramen spoon to either side of her bowl. She paused. "Have you leveled up a lot?"

"This is the third time for me. Second for you. But this time you can tell me what you want to increase or which skills to add. I wrote the available skills at the bottom there, as well as the number of attribute points." We both had 10 points, and 1 skill option.

Her available skills were similar to the list that I saw for her last time, with two new options: Champion's Resolve, Guardian's Bulwark, Healing Touch, and Timely Counter from before, plus the new skills Swift Regeneration and Blood Oath. I knew about Swift Regeneration, but the other one sounded grim.

"Can you also level up?" Her eyes were quickly scanning the napkin to go over the different skill options.

"Yeah, and… " I paused a moment, looking back at the Status window I had up to confirm what I saw earlier. Then I added softly, "It looks like Kris can, too." That was the cause of the double level-up messages I'd seen at the time. Even though Kris wasn't around, apparently simply being in my party allowed her to share in the rewards. And it looks like she shot up to Level 4 to match Bushra and me.

"Really?!" Bushra's voice carried over the din of lunch crowd diners, and she ducked her head in embarrassment before leaning forward and repeating herself more quietly. "Really? Does Kris know about all this hero stuff?"

"Not a bit of it. She joined my party on Monday after we left the coin dealer." I smiled weakly. She was so frustrated with me that day for not shopping the loot around. She was going to be even more angry that she wasn't the first person in my party.

Bushra looked at me gravely over her bowl of ramen, and prodded, "Are you going to tell her?"

I swallowed. Telling Bushra was one thing. We were in the middle of some crazy circumstances then. But Kris? How could she possibly believe me? What if she did?

Bushra saw my hesitancy. "Do you want Kris in your party? Or as part of our company?" she inquired.

"As part of our company, absolutely, we'd be beyond lucky to have her. She's quick, smart, and fearless when it comes to numbers. I'm not so sure about getting her involved in the hero's party business, though… " I trailed off.

Bushra waited, then added softly, "She's your friend. Right?" she questioned.

"Yeah, of course, all the more reason… " I sputtered.

"If she were in trouble, wouldn't you want to help her out?" Bushra cut over my protesting.

I could see where she was leading me. "It's not that simple." I backpedaled.

"Why not?" her brow came down in confusion.

I couldn't think of how to reply. The words weren't there. Kris was my friend. But all I ever did was burden her down with my problems. My throat seized up, and I had to force a swallow to continue. "I already owe her too much," I finally let out. "It's not fair to ask any more." My fist clenched on the table, as if trying to find a grip on an intangible purchase, anything to keep me from falling away.

Bushra's lips tilted upwards gently, before reaching out her hand and covering mine. "Friendship is a gift," she began, her voice hesitant but kind. "Sometimes it is a hard one to receive." She squeezed my hand, her warmth pressing into mine. "But you are worth that gift. The act of giving proves it." Her voice was low and fierce, cutting through my denial.

I felt my muscles freeze up, then loosen abruptly, my body shivering in release of so much pent up tension. I blinked rapidly. Part of me wanted to pull away and run. To reject. But her tender gaze held me there, yanked me so off balance that I was falling into it. The flight impulse wasn't gone. But it was enough.

"Okay," I replied, pulling my hand smoothly out from under hers. "I'll tell her. Let me go call her now."

I was in a daze as I left the table and walked toward the restaurant entrance. I saw Bushra's eyes follow me in concern, but she stayed seated. I kept walking past the other patrons, knowing if I didn't do this now I'd find another reason to delay later. I reached the exterior and the bright but false winter sun blinded me momentarily in its chill brilliance. I stepped away from the frontage a few feet, squinting. I pulled out my phone with its cracked screen, and mechanically called Kris' number.

"Hey Kris," I began immediately when she picked up the call. "Would you be able to swing by my place tonight after work?" I hurried to get the words out quickly before she could interject or I could change my mind. "I, uh, need to catch you up to speed on some things."