"You're awake—"

"—How are you feeling?"

That was the first voice he heard when he woke up.

"I'm sorry… guys, it's all my fault."

And that was Kuro on the side, muttering to himself.

"Ugh…"

Steven slowly got up, feeling the pain. He noticed an ice-pack on his head, which slipped off and fell on his chest. An icepack on his leg, one on his hand, arms…

…Wait, was he surrounded by ice packs?

"Oh… the nurse gave you those." Mayo helpfully pointed out.

"It wasn't your fault." Another voice said.

That was Jackal, right?

"Dammit." Jackal growled, shifting through his hair with one hand. "What are we going to do? Nothing about that was fair."

Fairness. What was that?

"Fair…" Steven looked to his left…

There was Zero, sitting on the windowsill.

Carefree?

White hair, red eyes, in quiet repose.

"Huh…" Not again. Steven had a bad feeling that more words were about to be—

A long star in dimming twilight, framed from the outside world.

A delicate hue of cobalt blue, Zero's shirt billowed gently in the evening breeze that slipped through the cracked window.

—It danced,

curling around his form…

…as though reluctant to part from his skin.

The fabric, almost translucent, was imbued with the dying light.

His hair—a cascade of snowy strands—floating weightlessly around him. Each thread catching and refracting the fading light, moving in the air as if underwater. His eyes, caught ablaze, like two glowing embers set against the cool ashes of his complexion. They arrested the world in a drunken daze. The horizon—

—Please stop describing him.

As Steven watched, Zero turned his head slowly towards him. Their eyes met, and for a brief second, time seemed to hang suspended.

"You're up. Nice nap, huh?"

And then Zero looked away, back to the horizon.

Steven had a thought then. He wondered how easy it would be to push the white-haired boy out of the window.

"Guess we have to find another place…" Jackal shrugged, muttering something to Kuro.

"Hey," Mayo tapped his shoulder. "Your clothes are in… tatters. Here, hand me your shirt!"

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Steven took off his shirt, leaving his torso shirtless. Now, only a lone pendant hung from his neck.

Mayo held her hand out for Steven's torn shirt, her golden eyes reflecting an intensity that seemed almost electric. When her fingers touched the fabric, they stilled for just a moment—as if listening to the textile, feeling its weave, its tension, its brokenness.

She sat on her bed, her shirt sticking to her collarbones and her nose scrunched.

Drawing her hand back, she manifested two fine, long needles out of thin air. They looked as though they were spun from threads of the fading twilight itself. Her g_lden eyes narrowed in concentration, and then she began.

Her hands became a blur, moving so quickly they were almost transparent.

As her needles danced through the fabric, it was as though she was weaving the very air into threads. These threads were spun with an invisible elegance… an intangible beauty. Every stitch was deliberate, every thread woven in harmony with the next, as if a tiny symphony were being conducted on the textile stage.

As she worked, strands of her bl_e hair bobbed up and down as she moved her neck ever so slightly. Pausing for a moment, she brushed her hair out of the way. Her hair seemed to shift in the light, a subtle dance between cerulean and a mysterious shade of pink that he'd swear wasn't there a moment ago.

Then, as quickly as she had stopped, her hands resumed their flurry. In what seemed like mere seconds, the dance concluded, and the needles disappeared into the air as mysteriously as they had arrived.

She held the shirt up for inspection. It looked as good as new. The stitches glinted in the dim light, not begging for attention.

"Here," she said softly, handing the mended shirt back to Steven, "it's finished."

"Where'd you learn to sew?"

"I-" Mayo's eyes seemed to almost jump a bit. "From my mom."

"A-Anyway," Her voice took on this bright tone. "So, are you guys, alright?"

Steven watched as she turned to Jackal and Neko.

"Yeah, yeah," Jackal's lips curled. "We'll be alright. I… got an idea of where to go to train instead."

"It was nice meeting you!" Jackal said goodbye before walking out the door. "Come on, Kuro!"

"Nice meeting you, too." Kuro, looking around, did an awkward bow, before following Jackal out.

Once again, silence filled the room.

"Well, where do we go now?" Steven asked.

A voice spoke up beside them.

"I have an idea."

LOADING• • •

They boarded the subway line provided by the school, walking out from an inconspicuous (?) subway exit that only students from their school seemed to perceive.

"NOW ARRIVING AT ?!?? ST: Transfer is available to the ?, !, and * train."

"Huh." He never realized how grand the subway station was: It had the bones of a classic New York subway—ceramic tiled walls, overhead ironwork, and the familiar rattle of an approaching train—but it all looked refreshingly pristine.

The tiles gleamed white, illuminated by modern, pendant lighting that cast a soft, inviting glow across the platform. The iron beams overhead were freshly painted, almost glistening, devoid of the usual peeling and rust that typically characterized the rat-infested subways. Digital screens framed the platform, providing real-time updates, advertisements, and art installations, adding modernity to the timeless architecture.

And students from their school ran amok, like little pigeons.

Steven, with his friends, stepped out to the smell of the fresh city. By fresh: it smelled like a… 'y'know when plants that you don't want, grow in a garden anyway?'…That. It smelled like that, with a stubborn addition of trash.

In front of them, they noticed a familiar girl approaching.

"Kensington!" Steven greeted her happily. She looked pretty as always… he remembered the time they had such a wonderful dinner together…

- 'Ding!'

Dieze: ['PROCESSING… yesterday's events…' X]

[GATHERING… Quotes from Kensington] • • •

- "Them!" she spat, pointing at Zero and Steven's table. "Why are they sitting in my seat? I usually book those. How could you forget?"

- "You can't even do a simple task. GET YOUR MANAGER DOWN! RIGHT NOW!"

- "Oh, it's so terrible," Kensington softly pulled out a napkin, bawling, "They stole my seat a-and started throwing things at me!"

[COMPLETING ANALYSIS] • • •

Dieze: '[Kensington was sad that you guys stole her table yesterday. You guys apologized and then she sat down with you guys.' X]

['Peaceful ending!']

"Mhm." Steven agreed, looking back at Kensington, her beautiful eyes glaring at them. Peaceful ending indeed. And he had made such a good friend.

"W-what?" Kensington scowled, "W-we are not friends!"

"We're not?" Steven looked sad.

"I-I mean, so… what are you poor people doing here?" (She was trying to be nice.)

"We're going… to Zero's house or something, I think."

"Zero? Pfft…" Kensington threw her shoulders up, as she held a pose. "Look at my limousine. You guys could never compare! It's 10 seats! I mean… I suppose I could let you guys ride if you guys BEG! Ha—"

—Immediately a longer 20-seat limousine pulled up.

"Young master please get in." A man stepped out of the car seat, waving to them.

Zero got in, motioning for his friends.

"Bye Kensington!" Steven waved, as they drove away.