Chapter 162:
– Haru –
The sun rose peacefully over Monte Carlo as though the universe had no idea what had happened in our hotel suite the night before.
Warm gold spilled through the gaps in the curtains, crept across the expensive carpet, and eventually reached the bed. I woke slowly beneath a tangled mountain of sheets, limbs, hair, and divine/demonic female warmth.
Milim was sprawled half across my chest, one arm possessively looped around my neck. Hela had pressed herself against my left side with her head resting on my shoulder, while Frigga lay curled against my right, one long leg draped over mine. All three women were naked, though most of them were hidden beneath the improvised cocoon formed by my ten golden tails.
Apparently, sometime during the night, my instincts had decided that keeping three immensely powerful women wrapped securely in my fluff was necessary for their survival.
Judging by how tightly they were clinging to me, none of them had objected.
I closed my eyes again.
The room was quiet. The bed was warm. Milim was making a tiny, contented sound against my chest, and Frigga's fingers were absently combing through the fur of one tail even while she slept.
It was peaceful.
I might actually have been able to sleep for another hour.
A loud knock struck the door.
Every one of my tails bristled.
Hela burrowed closer against my side and dragged one of my tails over her head as if she could shut out the rest of reality with enough fluff. "Whoever is waking me at this ungodly hour is making an enemy of the future Queen of Asgard!"
The knocking came again, firmer this time.
Hela's fingers curled into my fur. "I will display their skull above my throne!"
Frigga raised her head from my shoulder and blinked sleepily toward the entrance. After a moment, the haze vanished from her eyes, replaced by the alert focus of a goddess who had survived wars, court intrigue, and more than a thousand years married to Odin.
Golden light shimmered faintly across Frigga's irises. "Wait. Whoever stands outside possesses considerable power. There is dark magic around them—it reminds me of both Haru and Milim."
Milim went completely rigid on top of me. Her eyes snapped open. Milim shot upright so quickly that the sheets fell away from her. "Oh crap!"
Hela reluctantly uncovered her face and stared up at her. I stared too, although for entirely different reasons.
Milim glanced down at the bed, then at me, and a delighted grin spread across her face as memories of the previous night apparently caught up with her. "Last night was amazing!" Her expression abruptly collapsed back into panic. Milim launched herself out of bed. "But I need to hide!"
Before any of us could question that conclusion, she sprinted across the suite and vanished behind the heavy curtains beside the windows.
The curtains did not reach the floor.
Her bare feet remained plainly visible beneath them.
One of my ears twitched. The knocking came a third time.
With a sigh, I carefully extracted myself from the bed. Hela protested by tightening her grip around my arm, while Frigga looked deeply displeased when my tails withdrew from around her.
I grabbed a towel from the floor, wrapped it around my waist, and padded toward the door.
Whoever was waiting outside had better appreciate how much effort it took to escape that bed.
I opened the door.
Frey stood in the hallway. The winged Demon Lord looked immaculate despite the early hour. Her pale hair was arranged perfectly, her feathers were smooth, and her posture carried the rigid composure of a woman who had spent far too long cleaning up someone else's mess.
Her expression suggested that someone was going to suffer for it.
Probably Milim.
Frey inclined her head with impeccable formality. "Good morning, Demon Lord Haru."
Her gaze descended from my face to my bare chest. A faint blush colored her cheeks before she forcibly returned her attention to my eyes.
I tightened my hold on the towel. "Frey. This is unexpected. How did you even find us?"
Frey stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation. "Lady Ranni was kind enough to direct me here after I explained the situation."
That explained everything.
Ranni had probably been laughing beneath that enormous hat of hers the entire time.
Frey folded her wings tightly behind her and surveyed the ruined bedroom. Her eyes moved across the sheets, the broken bedside lamp, the clothes scattered across the floor, and the two naked goddesses watching her from the bed without a hint of embarrassment.
Her blush deepened.
Then she saw the pair of feet sticking out from beneath the curtains.
Frey's expression went flat. "I have come to retrieve Milim. She disappeared without warning, abandoned her territory, ignored every message I sent, and left me responsible for her ministers, correspondence, trade negotiations, border disputes, and several mountains of paperwork that were supposed to be hers."
The curtains remained perfectly still.
Milim cupped her hands around her mouth from behind them, apparently forgetting that hiding required silence. "MILIM ISN'T HERE!"
I closed my eyes. There were times when having immense cosmic power must have been a curse.
Frey's shoulders sagged beneath the accumulated weight of centuries of exhausted patience. "Of course she isn't."
Milim risked peering around the edge of the curtain. "Good. I'm glad we cleared that up."
Frey crossed the room.
"EEP!" Milim vanished behind the curtain again.
Frey seized the heavy fabric and ripped it aside with one sharp motion.
Milim stood completely exposed in front of the window, wearing nothing except an expression of determined innocence.
Frey stared at her.
Milim raised one hand and waved it slowly through the air. "I am not the Milim you are looking for."
Silence settled over the room.
Frey's eyes narrowed. "...What exactly are you doing?"
Milim repeated the gesture with greater concentration. "It's a mind trick. It worked in that movie I watched with Kunou. You're supposed to believe me and go away now."
When the hell had Milim and Kunou found time to watch Star Wars together?
Actually, no. I didn't want to know. Learning the answer would probably reveal that Kunou had skipped another etiquette lesson, stolen a television, and snuck into possibly the most dangerous dimension my restaurant was connected to.
Frey pinched the bridge of her nose. "Milim, you are naked, standing directly in front of me, and referring to yourself by name."
Milim lowered her hand and pouted. "Maybe I'm doing it wrong…?"
Frey grabbed her by the wrist. "You are coming home now."
Milim planted her feet against the carpet but offered only token resistance. If she had genuinely wanted to escape, the entire hotel—and possibly Monte Carlo—would have ceased to exist long before Frey could take a second step.
Instead, Milim allowed herself to be dragged toward the door while looking back at me with the tragic expression of a prisoner being marched toward execution.
Frey snatched a hotel robe from the back of a chair and threw it over Milim's shoulders. "At least put this on before someone sees you."
Milim shoved her arms into the robe without tying it, then twisted around in Frey's grip. "Playing spy with you was really fun, Haru!" Her grin returned in full force. Milim waved enthusiastically as Frey hauled her across the room. "And the sex was really nice too! We should definitely do that again soon!"
Hela propped herself up on one elbow, making no effort whatsoever to cover herself. "You can count on that, sexy little Demon Lord."
Frigga pulled the sheets higher over her chest and gave Hela a reproachful look. "You do realize Haru should be allowed some input regarding his own schedule."
Hela reached across the bed and stroked the base of one of my tails, making my knees nearly buckle. "His tails seem to agree with me."
Traitors. Every last one of them.
Frey's composure cracked for half a second. She stared at Hela, then at Frigga, then at me, and finally at the ruined bedroom around us.
Frey tightened her grip on Milim's wrist. "I am not asking what happened here."
Milim let herself be dragged through the doorway. "I can tell you on the way home!"
Horror flashed across Frey's face. She pulled Milim into the hallway with considerably more urgency.
Milim caught the edge of the doorframe with one hand. "Haru! Come visit soon! And bring food! Oh—and don't forget that you still have to propose to me next!"
Frey pried her fingers loose one at a time.
Milim's voice faded down the corridor. "Frey, have I ever told you how fluffy his tails are after—"
The door slammed shut.
I remained there for several seconds, staring at the polished wood.
Behind me, Hela collapsed onto the pillows in laughter. Frigga covered her face with both hands, although the shaking of her shoulders suggested she was laughing too.
I rested my forehead against the door and reconsidered every decision that had led me to this moment.
Waking up naked in a Monte Carlo hotel suite with three powerful women, only for a furious Demon Lord to arrive and drag one of them away for neglecting her paperwork, was not the strangest morning I had ever experienced.
It did, however, make the top ten…
After Frey dragged Milim away to face the most terrifying enemy any Demon Lord could encounter—her own neglected paperwork—Hela and Frigga disappeared into the bathroom together.
I briefly considered following them.
Then I heard the shower turn on, followed by Hela's delighted laugh and Frigga's much softer one, and reconsidered. If I joined them, nobody was going to get clean. We would lose another several hours, probably break something else belonging to the hotel, and possibly give the guests in the neighboring suite an experience they had not paid for.
Someone had to demonstrate restraint.
Apparently, that someone was me.
The realization was deeply unfair.
While they showered, I restored some semblance of order to the bedroom. The sheets were beyond salvation, the bedside lamp had given its life in service to a noble cause, and a suspicious crack ran through part of the headboard. Fortunately, the hotel was owned by one of Tony's friends—or possibly by Tony himself.
I repaired the lamp with Lord of the Kitchen, fixed the headboard, and gathered the clothes scattered across the suite. Milim had left half her outfit behind, along with one boot, three hair ornaments, and what appeared to be a classified S.H.I.E.L.D. identification badge bearing the name Mila Naves.
Fury's espionage operation had been doomed from the beginning.
Nearly forty minutes passed before the bathroom door finally opened and steam rolled into the bedroom.
Hela emerged first.
Her black armor had returned, summoned directly onto her body by divine magic. The interlocking plates hugged her like a second skin, traced with subtle green lines that pulsed whenever she moved. The entire outfit managed to communicate that she was simultaneously a queen, a warrior, and a very compelling reason for an enemy army to reconsider its life choices.
Her wet black hair fell loose down her back. She looked magnificent. She also looked far too pleased with herself.
Hela planted one hand on her hip. "If you continue staring at me like that, we are going to miss whatever plans you have for the rest of the day."
Frigga stepped through the lingering steam behind her.
Where Hela looked like war given flesh, Frigga looked like the serene moment before it began. She wore a long white dress that fell from her shoulders in elegant layers, the fabric embroidered with silver branches and faint green runes. A narrow golden belt circled her waist, and her damp golden hair had been partially braided away from her face.
Frigga's mouth curved when she caught me looking. "You are staring at me as well."
I folded my arms and made no effort to deny it. "Can you blame me? You both disappeared into that bathroom beautiful and somehow came out even more gorgeous."
Hela's smile sharpened with satisfaction. "Flattery will take you astonishingly far with me."
Frigga approached and adjusted the edge of the towel still hanging around my waist. "I suspect that is not the only thing capable of taking you astonishingly far with her."
Hela's eyebrows rose.
I caught the dangerous gleam in both their eyes and hurriedly redirected the conversation before my earlier attempt at restraint died an entirely predictable death.
I retrieved my discarded trousers from the chair and began pulling them on. "Now that you have the Tesseract, what happens next?"
The flirtation faded from Hela's expression, replaced by the calculating focus of a general planning her first campaign in more than a thousand years.
I fastened my trousers and looked between them. "When are we invading Asgard? You have your army of the dead, Frigga has started recovering her old Vanir magic, and the Tesseract should give you a way around what is left of the Bifrost. How long before we take the throne back from Odin?"
Hela walked toward the windows and stared out over Monte Carlo.
Morning light glittered across the Mediterranean. Yachts drifted through the harbor below us, their passengers blissfully unaware that a Goddess of Death was standing above them and contemplating the overthrow of an interstellar kingdom.
Hela clasped her hands behind her back. "My army is a last resort."
That answer surprised me.
I had expected her to announce that she intended to march on Asgard before lunch and use Odin's skull as a wine cup by dinner.
Hela watched the peaceful city beneath us for another moment. "Those dead creatures owe me no loyalty beyond the authority I seized from their former master. They would be effective against Asgard's armies, but they would not distinguish between Odin's soldiers and civilians caught in their path."
She turned away from the window. The hard planes of her armor reflected the morning sun, but her expression carried none of the vicious delight she usually showed when discussing Odin's eventual death.
Hela curled one hand into a fist. "Asgard is my kingdom. Its people are meant to become my subjects, not corpses offered to satisfy my anger. I did not survive a thousand years in Helheim merely to reclaim a realm emptied of everyone I intended to rule."
Something warm settled in me after hearing that.
When I had first met Hela, she had been half convinced I was another hallucination produced by a mind shattered through endless isolation. She had been furious, lonely, starved for touch, and ready to tear Odin's kingdom apart one body at a time.
She was still furious.
She would probably always be a little bloodthirsty.
But she was already thinking like a queen rather than a conqueror.
Hela's fingers relaxed. "If Odin unleashes Asgard's armies against us and leaves me no alternative, I will use the dead. Until then, I would prefer to enter the palace with Frigga, confront him directly, and finish our family's problems without turning the Golden City into a graveyard."
Frigga joined her beside the window and rested a hand against Hela's armored back. "We will move soon. I have no desire to give Odin enough time to discover how we intend to use the Tesseract."
Concern shadowed Frigga's face.
She was no longer hiding it behind the serene mask Odin had forced upon her for centuries. Every emotion had become sharper since her memories returned—her anger, affection, fear, curiosity, and fierce protectiveness toward her children.
Frigga folded her hands over her stomach. "But before we invade, I must speak with my sons. Properly this time. They deserve to understand what happened to me, what Odin did to Hela, and why removing him is no longer merely a possibility."
I nodded at her. "Loki probably won't need much convincing."
A weary smile touched Frigga's lips. "Loki will be ecstatic. He may already be designing a commemorative outfit for Odin's execution."
That sounded painfully accurate.
Frigga's smile disappeared as quickly as it came. "Thor will be more difficult. He knows Odin has lied. He knows his father has manipulated him and treated the people around him cruelly. But part of him still believes Odin can be redeemed."
Hela scoffed so violently that the sound could have stripped paint from a wall.
The temperature in the room seemed to fall.
Frigga absorbed the anger without flinching.
Frigga's hand slid from Hela's back to her armored forearm. "He has spent his life seeing Odin as his father, king, and model of what a ruler should become. Rejecting Odin means rejecting much of the identity Thor built around himself. He must be given the opportunity to reach the truth willingly."
Hela looked down at Frigga's hand. Some of the murderous tension left her shoulders.
Frigga squeezed her arm. "If I demand blind obedience from Thor while condemning Odin for enforcing it, then I have learned nothing."
Hela released a long breath through her nose. "You are far more patient than I am."
Frigga's eyes hardened with quiet certainty. "Do not mistake patience for mercy. Odin will answer for what he did. I merely refuse to destroy my sons while reaching him."
Hela appeared to agree. A slow, approving smile returned to her face.
I crossed the room and stopped in front of them. "Whatever happens with Thor and Loki, you won't be confronting Odin alone."
I rested one hand against Frigga's waist and offered the other to Hela. "When the time comes, I'm going with you. You also have everyone connected to the Fox Hole. Milim would probably punch Odin through Asgard if you asked nicely and a dozen others would help without hesitation."
Hela slipped her fingers through mine.
I curled one of my tails around Frigga's waist and another around Hela's. "You have friends now. You have family. Even if you decide the final confrontation belongs to the two of you, we'll be there to make sure nobody interferes."
Hela stared down at our joined hands. The confident future queen vanished for a moment. Beneath the armor and divine power, I saw the lonely woman who had sat outside a crude obsidian hut in Helheim, afraid to believe that a bowl of stew was real.
Hela raised her eyes to mine. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me."
My ears stood straight up.
Hela tightened her fingers around my hand. "I would never call what Odin did worthwhile. Nothing could justify those thousand years. But if there was one thing waiting beyond all that loneliness that made surviving it worthwhile, it was finding you and Frigga at the end."
Beside her, Frigga's cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.
Hela glanced between us, and her familiar wicked smile gradually returned. "Oh, how precious. I made both of you blush."
Frigga stepped closer and kissed Hela's cheek. "You are allowed to be sincere without immediately hiding behind teasing."
Hela's confident expression faltered. She looked away first. That small reaction somehow made the moment even more affecting.
I leaned in and kissed her forehead. "We're not going anywhere."
Hela closed her eyes for one brief second and rested her brow against mine. When she pulled away, the future Queen of Asgard had returned.
She reached into a fold of green-black magic and withdrew the Tesseract.
The blue cube hovered above her palm, humming with enough concentrated spatial power to make the air vibrate. Pale light washed over all three of us, casting shifting geometric patterns across the walls.
Frigga extended both hands toward it.
Ancient Vanir runes formed around the cube, layered with symbols I vaguely recognized from the damaged Bifrost. The Tesseract's glow intensified until the entire room was saturated in blue.
Hela tilted her hand toward the open space beside the bed. "We will speak with Thor and Loki first. After that, we begin preparing Asgard for a new queen."
Space tore open.
Frigga kissed me gently before stepping toward the portal.
I stood alone in the middle of the bedroom and considered my plans.
I wanted to check on Tony and Pepper one last time before returning to the Fox Hole.
…First, I needed a shower though. Obviously.
Hot water washed away the lingering exhaustion from the previous night, along with the scents of three extremely affectionate women. I dried myself with a flicker of foxfire, pulled on black trousers and a fitted dark-red shirt, then spent several minutes combing my tails.
Ten tails required an unreasonable amount of maintenance. It was probably the only downside to evolving. Well, that and occasionally getting stuck in narrow doorways.
Once my fur was presentable, I left the suite and walked several rooms down the hotel corridor. The floor was quiet at this hour.
I stopped outside their door and knocked.
Several seconds passed.
Locks disengaged one after another from inside—far more locks than a normal hotel door possessed—and the door opened just wide enough to reveal Agent Coulson.
That was unexpected.
Coulson stood on the other side in the same dark suit he seemed to wear regardless of country, weather, or alien invasion. His tie remained perfectly straight, but faint shadows sat beneath his eyes, and the paper coffee cup in his hand had gone untouched long enough for the steam to disappear.
His expression was professionally neutral. Too neutral.
Coulson opened the door farther. "Good morning, Haru."
I stepped into the suite and immediately noticed the atmosphere.
Tony stood near the windows with his back partially turned toward the room. He was dressed in sweatpants and a Black Sabbath shirt, but his posture lacked its usual careless looseness. One hand rested against the arc reactor in his chest, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm over the glowing circle.
Pepper sat at the dining table with a tablet in front of her. The screen went dark the instant I entered.
She looked tired. More than tired, actually. Worried.
Coulson closed the door behind me.
I glanced between the three humans. "Is everything all right?"
Pepper's fingers tightened around the edge of the tablet.
Tony stopped tapping his reactor.
Coulson remained perfectly still.
That answered my question more clearly than words could have.
I hooked my thumbs into my pockets and decided to give them an easier reason for my visit. "I was planning to leave Monte Carlo and return to my restaurant. I wanted to check on you both before I went."
Tony stared at me for several seconds before a crooked smile appeared. "Everything's fine, Fox Force Ten."
I narrowed my eyes. I had been called many things during my two lives. Fox Force Ten was new. Worse, it was annoyingly clever.
Tony spread his hands with exaggerated innocence. "No immediate emergencies. Just three ordinary people enjoying a quiet morning after a completely normal European vacation."
Pepper gave him a flat look.
Coulson stared at him with the patience of a man reconsidering every decision that had led him into government service.
I tilted my head slightly. Something had happened. Or something was about to happen. Whatever it was, they had silently agreed not to tell me.
Coulson set his cold coffee on the table and straightened his jacket. "S.H.I.E.L.D. appreciates your assistance in protecting Mr. Stark. Without your intervention at the racetrack, the outcome would have been significantly worse."
Tony's eyebrows rose. "I was handling it."
Pepper slowly turned her head toward him.
Tony reconsidered beneath the weight of her stare. "I was in the process of developing a handling strategy..."
Coulson's eyes remained on me. "You also helped apprehend two extremely dangerous individuals while preventing civilian casualties. Director Fury wanted his gratitude formally conveyed before you left."
I studied Coulson's face.
He was very good. Better than Natasha in some ways, although Natasha possessed substantially more methods of distracting anyone attempting to study her. Coulson gave away almost nothing he did not intend to give away.
Almost.
I could have forced the issue.
I could have listened to their heartbeats, followed the changes in their scents, examined the tablet Pepper had deactivated, or simply expanded Lord of the Kitchen until everything in the room belonged to my domain. No human security system could have kept a secret from me if I genuinely wanted the answer.
But secrets were not ingredients. People were allowed to keep them.
I had offered my help. If Tony, Pepper, and Coulson did not want to explain what was wrong, I was not going to tear the truth out of them.
I turned toward the door, then paused beside Pepper. I offered her a warm smile. "You're welcome at the Fox Hole anytime, Pepper." I gave her a playful wink.
A faint blush spread across her cheeks.
Tony noticed immediately. His gaze moved from Pepper's face to mine, then back again.
Tony pressed one hand dramatically against his chest. "What about me?" The pout on his face would have looked more convincing if his eyes had not narrowed at me with unmistakable jealousy.
I laughed and stepped backward.
Despite the humor, the tension never fully left the room.
I let the matter rest. I lifted one hand in farewell. "If whatever you're not telling me becomes something you can't handle, you know where to find me."
All three of them went still. That confirmed it.
Tony recovered first. His familiar smirk returned, although it did not quite reach his eyes. "Have a safe trip home, Fox Force Ten."
I pointed at him as the door began to close. "That name isn't sticking."
Tony's grin widened. "That sounds exactly like something Fox Force Ten would say."
Pepper closed the door before I could respond.
I stared at it for a moment, one ear twitching.
Then I turned and walked toward the hotel elevator.
Whatever they were hiding was serious, but they had chosen to handle it themselves. I respected that. More importantly, I trusted them to ask for help if the situation became impossible.
At least, I trusted Pepper and Coulson.
Tony would probably wait until something exploded before admitting he needed assistance.
– Pepper –
The door clicked shut behind Haru. Pepper kept one hand on the handle for a moment longer than necessary, painfully aware of the warmth still lingering in her cheeks.
The young handsome fox man had winked at her. And he had invited her to his mysterious interdimensional restaurant. Tony had only been included after pouting like a neglected child.
Pepper allowed herself a small, private smile.
The next time she caught Tony flirting with a pair of models, flight attendants, reporters, or any of the other barely dressed women who seemed to materialize around him whenever he entered a room, she could remind him that she had options too.
Very handsome, ten-tailed, magical options.
The invitation was useful ammunition.
Pepper finally released the door handle and turned around.
Tony was watching her. His arms were folded over his chest, and one eyebrow had climbed toward his hairline.
Pepper lifted her chin before he could comment. "Don't."
Tony pressed a hand against the arc reactor in theatrical offense. "I didn't say anything."
Pepper walked past him. "Your face did."
Tony followed her with his eyes. "My face was wondering why Fox Force Ten only winked at one of us."
Pepper reclaimed her tablet from the table. "Perhaps your face should spend less time wondering and more time developing boundaries around flight attendants."
Tony opened his mouth.
Pepper gave him a warning look.
Tony wisely closed it again.
Under different circumstances, she might have enjoyed the victory.
Coulson had moved beside the window and was studying something on his phone. His expression remained perfectly controlled, but Pepper had spent years managing Tony Stark. She knew what a man looked like when he was pretending a disaster was merely an inconvenience.
Tony had returned to the drinks cart. It was too early for whiskey, even by his standards, but that did not stop him from pouring two fingers into a glass.
Pepper's remaining amusement vanished. She placed the tablet flat against the table hard enough to make both men look at her. "Would either of you like to explain why we just concealed from Haru that both men who tried to murder Tony yesterday have escaped?"
Coulson lowered his phone.
Tony lifted the glass toward his mouth.
Pepper's glare shifted to him.
Tony reconsidered and placed the whiskey back on the cart without drinking it.
Coulson slipped his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Agent Romanoff is already in pursuit. She has every available resource supporting her, and she will not allow either target to remain free..."
Pepper stared at him. Then she let out a short, humorless laugh. Pepper tapped the screen of her tablet and restarted the footage that had been playing on it right before Haru arrived. "In pursuit of what, exactly?"
The recording played:
The first convoy appeared on a narrow road outside Monte Carlo. Two armored vehicles escorted a reinforced prisoner transport carrying Ivan Vanko. A second convoy followed a different route with the Winter Soldier secured inside another transport.
Black smoke appeared beneath both vehicles at precisely the same second. The tendrils climbed the vehicles, smothering windows and curling through seams that should have been airtight. Every light flickered. The video distorted. For one brief instant, strange golden-black symbols glowed across the transport walls.
Then the smoke collapsed inward.
When the cameras recovered, both restraints were empty.
Vanko was gone. The Winter Soldier was gone.
None of the guards remembered seeing anything beyond a flash of darkness, although four had subsequently collapsed with severe hypothermia.
Pepper froze the footage on the frame containing the strange symbols.
She turned the tablet so Coulson could see it. "They vanished from two armored transports in clouds of black smoke without opening a single door. That is pure magical bullshit. Why are we not asking for help or telling Haru?"
Coulson retrieved his phone again and pulled up a tactical map. "Agent Romanoff is following the networks supporting both fugitives. Vanko requires specialized equipment, power, materials, and somewhere to work. The Winter Soldier has spent decades relying on HYDRA infrastructure. Neither man can remain operational without assistance."
Pepper pointed at the corrupted video. "Someone with magic just extracted them from custody. You have no idea whether they still need their old support networks."
Coulson's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Our technical division is analyzing the residual energy."
Pepper looked at him in disbelief. "Your technical division?"
Coulson maintained his carefully neutral expression.
Pepper gestured toward the closed hotel door. "The man who just left this room is dating two Asgardian goddesses, stopped electrified whips with his bare hands, and caught every bullet fired at Tony with one of his tails."
Tony lifted a finger. "For the record, I also find the tail thing upsettingly efficient."
Pepper ignored him. "Haru could probably look at that footage and tell us exactly what kind of magic it was."
Coulson glanced toward the door, but only for an instant. "Mr. Haru has already provided extraordinary assistance. S.H.I.E.L.D. cannot rely upon him every time a situation exceeds conventional parameters."
Pepper's eyebrows rose. "Conventional parameters ended when a pink-haired woman tore apart stealth fighters with her bare hands."
Coulson squared his shoulders. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has a responsibility to demonstrate that we can contain the threats—placed in our custody."
There it was. Pepper recognized the expression because she had seen a variation of it on Tony's face thousands of times.
Pride.
Coulson's version wore a government suit and called itself institutional credibility, but it was still pride.
Pepper looked toward Tony. "And what is your excuse?"
Tony picked up the whiskey again.
This time, Pepper allowed him to take a small drink.
Tony studied the liquid in his glass. "Haru saved me from Vanko. Milim saved the plane, which also contained you, so technically she saved my life and prevented an international incident involving my company's executive jet."
Pepper waited.
Tony rotated the glass slowly between his fingers. "That's already multiple entries in the Stark life-debt ledger—and I don't enjoy owing anyone that much."
Pepper's anger softened slightly, but only slightly.
Tony lifted his gaze to hers. The usual arrogance remained, yet something more fragile sat beneath it. "If every serious problem gets handed to the indestructible fox guy and his equally indestructible girlfriend, what exactly is the point of Iron Man?"
Pepper stared at him. Of course that was it.
Yesterday had reminded Tony how little control he possessed. Vanko had walked onto the racetrack and nearly killed him. The Winter Soldier had fired on him from hundreds of meters away. Haru and Milim had neutralized both threats before Tony could summon his armor.
Tony was grateful. He was also terrified that he had become irrelevant in his own life.
Pepper stepped closer to him. "The point of Iron Man is to protect people. It is not to prove that you never need help."
Tony looked away.
Pepper placed one hand over the arc reactor glowing through his shirt. "Sometimes staying alive long enough to accept help is the heroic option."
Tony's fingers tightened around the glass. "I can handle Vanko."
Pepper's palm remained pressed against the light in his chest. "You almost died handling Vanko yesterday."
Tony's mouth flattened.
Pepper lowered her voice. "You are already hiding something else from me."
The color drained slightly from Tony's face.
Pepper felt the uneven rhythm beneath her hand—not his heart exactly, but the mechanical pulse of the reactor keeping it alive.
Tony stepped back, breaking the contact. "We're discussing escaped murder enthusiasts. Let's keep the agenda focused…"
Pepper watched him retreat.
Pepper would deal with that lie next.
First, she had to deal with the current one.
Coulson moved away from the window. "Director Fury agrees that contacting Haru may become necessary. For the moment, S.H.I.E.L.D. intends to recover both fugitives through its own resources."
Pepper turned on him. "Because you want to show that you aren't incompetent."
Coulson's expression remained composed. "Because an agency responsible for global security cannot outsource every unprecedented threat to a restaurant owner from another universe."
Tony raised his glass. "In fairness, he's a very good cook."
Pepper looked between them.
Tony's pride told him he had to prove he was still Iron Man.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s pride told Coulson the organization had to repair its own failure.
Both men had apparently decided that hiding vital information from the overwhelmingly powerful ally standing ten feet away was a perfectly reasonable way to accomplish those goals.
Pepper rubbed her temples. "This is a male pride problem."
Tony looked offended. "That is an unfair oversimplification."
Coulson adjusted his cuffs. "I would also characterize the situation differently."
Pepper released a long breath and glanced toward the door.
Haru was already gone.
She considered chasing him.
The only reliable Fox Hole entrance she knew about was outside Puente Antiguo in New Mexico, near the remains of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s old containment site. Getting there would require a flight across the Atlantic, followed by another across most of the United States.
Pepper could do it. Part of her wanted to do it purely to prove a point.
Unfortunately, she was still the CEO of Stark Industries. The Stark Expo opened in only a few days, Monaco had created several dozen legal and public-relations emergencies, and Tony had personally transformed an international sporting event into a combination terrorist attack, alien-contact incident, and superhero reunion.
She could not simply vanish into a magical restaurant without making arrangements.
Pepper picked up her tablet and opened her schedule. Her fingers moved rapidly across the screen. She created a new priority reminder: Invite Haru to the Stark Expo. Confirm attendance personally.
After a moment's consideration, she added a second line: If Vanko and Barnes remain missing, tell him the truth—regardless of what Tony or S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks.
She marked the reminder as non-delegable.
If Tony and Coulson had not fixed this by the Stark Expo, she would tell Haru herself.
Someone in the room has to be sensible.
– Ranni –
Ranni stood before the open archway of her private tower, high above the Academy of Raya Lucaria, and looked upon the kingdom she had spent months coaxing back to life.
Once, the view beyond those ancient walls had been dominated by a flooded wilderness. Liurnia's vast lake had stretched beneath a perpetual veil of mist, its drowned roads haunted by revenants, warped beasts, maddened sorcerers, and creatures that had forgotten the difference between survival and slaughter. Collapsed towers had protruded from the water like the bones of a dead civilization. The few settlements that remained had existed only because their occupants were too stubborn—or too desperate—to leave.
That world was steadily disappearing.
Stone causeways now crossed water that had been cleansed of its most dangerous inhabitants. New docks extended from the shore beneath the Academy, crowded with fishing boats, merchant barges, and shallow-hulled vessels enchanted to glide over the lake without disturbing its surface. Beyond them, streets had begun spreading across land reclaimed through sorcery and patient labor.
The beginnings of a proper town now stood where monsters had once nested.
Carian banners stirred from newly erected towers. Smithies glowed beside workshops filled with artisans practicing crafts drawn from half a dozen different realities. Farmers cultivated magically enriched terraces along the higher slopes. Children raced between half-finished homes while their parents worked, learned, traded, or simply paused to stare at the impossible academy suspended above their new lives.
Not all of those people had been born in the Lands Between.
Many had come from realities consumed by war, plague, famine, undead infestations, environmental collapse, or rulers who considered ordinary lives expendable.
Ranni had searched the multiverse for those in need of sanctuary and offered them passage into her hidden kingdom.
Her generosity, however, had possessed limits.
Caria was not a charity sustained by the whims of an immortal goddess. Anyone seeking permanent sanctuary needed something to contribute. A skill. A trade. Knowledge. Magic. Labor. Even an earnest willingness to learn had been acceptable, provided it was backed by effort.
Ranni had welcomed healers, masons, teachers, farmers, engineers, cooks, hunters, scribes, alchemists, and soldiers. She had refused parasites, opportunists, and petty tyrants who believed desperation entitled them to authority over the desperate.
Some might have called that cold.
Ranni considered it prudent.
A kingdom built entirely upon her power would collapse the moment that power was absent. A nation populated by capable people who understood that their survival depended upon one another might endure even without its goddess watching over it.
The old Carian kingdom had fallen through betrayal, war, stagnation, and the interference of outer gods.
This one would not.
Ranni's upper hands rested against the stone railing while her lower pair smoothed the front of her white-and-blue dress. The fabric had been woven from enchanted Carian silk, pale as fresh snow and embroidered with narrow trails of silver thread that resembled constellations beneath moonlight.
Measured footsteps approached from behind her.
Ranni recognized their cadence immediately.
Her upper right hand tightened against the railing while both lower hands abandoned the dress and clasped one another at her waist. She kept her attention fixed upon the town below, as though she had been far too occupied with matters of state to notice anyone entering her private tower.
Rennala's reflection appeared behind her, tall and regal, her dark robes flowing around a figure that had finally regained its former strength.
The great queen carried herself differently now. The dreamy vacancy that had once clouded her eyes was gone. In its place burned the formidable intelligence of the woman who had once established the Carian royal family as a power equal to the Golden Order, and commanded the Full Moon itself.
Ranni treasured every sign of that recovery.
At that particular moment, however, she rather wished her mother remained slightly less observant.
Rennala stopped close enough that her reflection towered over Ranni's smaller form. Amusement glimmered within her restored eyes as she watched all four of Ranni's hands find different ways to betray her unease.
"If thou continuest worrying at that dress, daughter, there shall be nothing left of it by the time thou findest the courage to face thy consort."
Ranni immediately stilled every hand. "I am not worrying at anything. I was merely correcting an imperfection in the fabric."
Rennala inclined her head toward the immaculate folds. "An imperfection thou hast corrected eight times."
Ranni's lower hands retreated into the long sleeves of her dress. "Thou hast been counting?"
Rennala's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I am thy mother. Counting the ways in which my daughter attempts to conceal her nerves is among my oldest privileges."
Ranni turned away from the archway and lifted her chin. "I have confronted Empyreans, gods, assassins, and entities which existed before the first mortal gazed upon the stars. I am not nervous."
Rennala's gaze dropped deliberately toward the two blue hands twisting together beneath Ranni's sleeves. "Naturally."
Ranni separated them at once.
Her mother's gentle mockery was intolerable primarily because it was accurate.
Ranni could reach across realities and erase entire organizations from existence. She could fold space, still time, silence gods, and impose the authority of her Dark Moon upon worlds that had never known its light.
Yet the prospect of standing before Haru and properly asking him to become her husband had reduced her to fidgeting like an inexperienced maiden awaiting her first courtship.
Which, in one particularly humiliating respect, she still was.
Ranni turned back toward the kingdom, hoping its reconstruction might offer a safer subject. The effort failed before she began. She felt her mother move beside her and knew escape had already become impossible.
Rennala placed both hands upon the stone railing. "Have these walls not endured enough avoidance from our family?"
Ranni focused upon a group of workers raising the frame of a new public hall near the lakeshore. "I have not avoided the matter."
Rennala arched one dark eyebrow. "Thou didst consider Haru thy husband while neglecting to tell him that he had participated in a marriage."
Ranni's upper arms folded beneath her chest. "He knew he was my chosen consort."
Rennala gave her a sidelong look. "He believed 'consort' meant beloved."
Ranni's mouth tightened. "It does."
Rennala tapped one finger against the railing. "It also meant husband, king, champion of the Carian royal line, and publicly acknowledged bearer of the Dark Moon Greatsword."
Ranni's blue cheeks darkened.
That particular misunderstanding had only recently come to light.
Rias had asked when Ranni and Haru intended to marry. Ranni, understandably confused, had explained that they were already joined according to Carian custom. The confusion that followed had eventually forced her to explain the ritual in greater detail.
Only then had she realized that Haru had never received the Dark Moon Greatsword.
In her defense, Ranni had spent millennia without a proper body. She had overthrown an outer god, rescued what remained of her kingdom, rebuilt Raya Lucaria in a hidden dimension, watched over Haru across realities, established the Fox Hole's interdimensional paths, and prevented multiple cosmic powers from threatening her consort.
A ceremonial sword had seemed a comparatively minor detail.
Unfortunately, it was the ceremonial sword that informed the rest of Caria that she had chosen a husband.
Ranni's upper left hand brushed anxiously over the empty space at her hip. "The omission was regrettable."
Rennala's expression became painfully serene. "Thou forgot to propose properly."
Ranni raised one finger. "I forgot to complete the public ritual."
Rennala's smile widened. "Thou forgot to propose."
Ranni lifted a second finger. "The distinction is meaningful."
Rennala straightened to her full height. "Did Haru know thou considered him thy husband?"
Ranni's raised fingers slowly lowered. "Not in those precise words."
Rennala gave a single decisive nod. "Thou forgot to propose…"
Ranni glared out across the lake. She could have disputed the matter until the stars burned out. Her mother would have continued repeating the same accusation with that infuriatingly satisfied expression.
Worse, Ranni knew she was right.
The discovery had sent Ranni directly to the Carian armory beneath the Academy. She had intended to retrieve the blade, present it to Haru, and transform the entire misunderstanding into an amusing story before anyone else—particularly Rennala—learned what had happened.
Instead, she had opened the warded vault and found the Dark Moon Greatsword—broken.
The ancient weapon had survived wars, betrayal, abandonment, and the slow decay of the Lands Between, but time had not left it untouched. A fracture ran through its moonstone core. Several ceremonial runes had faded beyond recognition. The blade remained powerful, but whatever careless attempt had been made to preserve it after the fall of Caria had nearly ruined it.
Ranni had possessed enough power to force the sword back together. She had not possessed the specialized knowledge required to restore its history, ritual authority, and bond to the Carian royal line without damaging them further.
Only one living being understood those enchantments well enough.
That necessity had forced Ranni to—confess everything to her mother.
Rennala had scolded her for nearly three hours.
Rennala's fingers drummed against the stone. "I remain uncertain which revelation disturbed me more: that thou hadst neglected to present thy husband with the symbol of his station, or that thou hadst spent so long watching that handsome fox surround himself with lovers while never properly claiming him."
Ranni's cheeks turned from blue to dark violet. "I have claimed him."
Rennala tilted her head. "Not in bed."
Ranni's upper hands flew to the brim of her enormous white hat and pulled it lower over her burning face. "MOTHER!"
Rennala's eyes glimmered with merciless maternal delight. "Thou wert the one who admitted it."
Ranni retreated another inch beneath her hat. "Only because thou began discussing how soon the Academy might be filled with grandchildren."
Rennala pressed one elegant hand against her chest. "And what mother would not rejoice at such a prospect? For ages, these halls have known only scholars, soldiers, and dour-faced sorcerers arguing about the proper alignment of glintstone. Imagine them filled with little blue fox tailed children through the corridors."
Despite herself, Ranni imagined it.
A small child with blue skin, golden eyes, and fox ears peeking through their hair. Children running beneath the Academy's vaulted ceilings while Rennala spoiled them, Kunou recruited them into increasingly hazardous adventures, and Haru pretended not to notice them sneaking ingredients from his kitchen.
Something tender ached within Ranni's newly living body. Her lower hands folded protectively over her abdomen before she realized what they were doing.
Rennala noticed. The queen's teasing softened into warmth. She reached down and gently lifted the edge of Ranni's hat until their eyes met.
Rennala brushed her thumb across Ranni's cheek. "Thy body is thine, little moon. Thy choice and thy timing must remain thine as well."
Ranni relaxed by the smallest degree.
Rennala's expression immediately regained its wicked edge. "But if thou desirest the man—and every moonlit window in this academy knows that thou dost—then cease hiding behind ritual and immortal hesitation. No man enjoys being teased for years by a maiden who refuses to… put out."
Ranni's four hands flew outward in outrage. "MOTHER!"
Rennala looked entirely unrepentant. "Regaining my wits did not require surrendering my honesty."
Ranni pulled her hat so low that only the bottom half of her face remained visible. "I preferred thee when thou spoke in riddles."
Rennala rested one hand atop Ranni's hat. "No, thou didst not."
Ranni's shoulders sank. That truth defeated her irritation at once. Ranni reached up with one hand and covered her mother's where it rested on her hat.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Rennala withdrew.
The air around her changed.
Silver light gathered between the older queen's hands, thin at first, then bright enough to cast rippling reflections across the walls. Rings of Carian script turned through the radiance. Frost spread across the stone beneath Rennala's feet as the power of the Full Moon condensed into physical form.
A greatsword emerged from the light.
Ranni forgot her embarrassment.
The Dark Moon Greatsword hovered between them, restored beyond anything she had dared hope.
Its long blade possessed the deep blue-black color of the night sky just before moonrise. Veins of silver glimmered beneath its surface like distant constellations. Ancient Carian runes ran along the central ridge, each symbol clear and alive once more. Cold lunar mist flowed from the edge without falling, wrapping the weapon in a pale halo.
There was no trace of the fracture.
The sword did not merely look repaired. It felt even more powerful than it had been in her memories.
Ranni's lower hands rose instinctively beneath the hilt while her upper pair hovered near the blade, afraid that touching it too quickly might somehow disturb its perfection.
Rennala lowered the weapon carefully into all four of her daughter's hands. "It is whole once again."
The sword's weight settled into Ranni's grasp. Moonlight surged along the blade in recognition of her blood. Ranni stared at it, transfixed. "It is magnificent."
Rennala traced one finger over the restored royal inscription. "I reforged its core beneath the Full Moon, renewed each matrimonial rune, and tempered the blade with the magic of rebirth. It shall recognize Haru when thou presentest it to him."
Ranni swallowed against an unfamiliar tightness in her throat.
Her mother had poured love, memory, and regained purpose into its restoration. The sword represented not merely Ranni's marriage, but the return of their family and the rebirth of everything they had nearly lost.
One humiliating concern escaped before she could contain it. Ranni held the sword closer to her chest. "Dost thou believe he shall like it?"
Rennala's expression softened with something approaching disbelief. "Why would he not?"
Ranni's lips twitched. "He rarely carries weapons. He prefers foxfire, his tails, or whichever cooking implement happens to be closest."
Rennala rested her palm against the flat of the blade. "Then he may hang it above the Fox Hole's bar and boast that his wife gave it to him."
The word wife sent another wave of nervous warmth through Ranni's body.
Rennala touched two fingers beneath Ranni's chin and raised her face. "He shall treasure it because it comes from thee." Rennala stepped back and gave her daughter room. "Go to him."
Ranni's fingers tightened around the greatsword. "At once?"
Rennala pointed toward the open archway. "If I permit thee time to plan, thou shalt spend three months arranging moonlight, music, ceremonial witnesses, and the precise angle at which his tails should frame the occasion."
Ranni lifted her chin with wounded dignity. "Such details possess importance!"
Rennala made a shooing motion with one hand, telling Ranni to get going already.
Ranni opened a path of blue starlight through the air.
– Haru –
I stopped just inside the Fox Hole and breathed deeply.
Butter browned in a hot skillet. Bacon crackled over open flame. Freshly ground coffee mingled with the sweeter scents of cinnamon, vanilla, maple syrup, and bread pulled from the oven less than a minute earlier. Somewhere beneath all of that waited the rich umami of miso broth, grilled salmon, seasoned rice, and rolled omelets.
Home. After several days of spies, assassins, Demon Lords avoiding paperwork, and a pool party that had escalated well beyond anything a public hotel pool was designed to endure, the familiar chaos of my restaurant felt almost peaceful.
My shadow clone stood behind the counter, operating the kitchen with the kind of skill that would have left an ordinary chef questioning every decision that had led them into the profession.
Both of its hands moved at near-supernatural speed. One whisked eggs while the other flipped pancakes. Three of its tails handled separate skillets. Another opened an oven. Two more plated grilled fish and arranged pickled vegetables with meticulous care. The remaining tails stirred soup, poured coffee, operated the espresso machine, and prevented a stack of toast from burning.
The clone looked up long enough to acknowledge me with a nod.
I returned it.
Neither of us needed to speak.
I knew exactly what it was thinking because it was me.
Specifically, it was the version of me that had remained behind to do all the responsible work while the original went to Monaco, pretended to be a spy, stopped two assassination attempts, flirted with Pepper Potts, and spent an extremely memorable night with three goddesses.
The clone was probably judging me.
That was fine. Once it dissolved, I would receive all its resentment along with several days of restaurant memories.
Something to look forward to.
Enri hurried past the end of the counter carrying four plates balanced across both arms. Her Kuoh Academy uniform had been replaced by a simple Fox Hole apron, and the confidence with which she navigated the crowded floor bore little resemblance to the malnourished village girl who had first wandered through my door.
Several familiar customers occupied the morning tables.
Everything appeared normal. By Fox Hole standards, at least.
Then I noticed my mother at the counter.
Yasaka sat with one elegant leg crossed over the other, wearing a dark-blue kimono decorated with silver foxes and curling autumn leaves. A cup of tea rested between her hands, steam drifting past the faint smile on her lips.
Cersei occupied the stool beside her. That alone caught my attention.
Cersei rarely left Yasaka's palace. Kyoto still overwhelmed her sometimes. The technology, the crowds, the absence of servants anticipating every desire, and the constant possibility of meeting an alien, goddess, devil, vampire, or talking cat merely by walking through the wrong doorway had taken considerable adjustment.
Yet there she was. She wore an elegant Western dress of deep emerald green, its long sleeves fitted closely to her arms and its embroidered neckline modest enough for breakfast without hiding the mature beauty that had once brought kingdoms to war.
She looked relaxed.
Her shoulder touched Yasaka's. Neither woman appeared interested in creating distance between them.
Cersei's hand rested on the counter close enough that Yasaka's smallest finger brushed against hers whenever either reached for a cup. The contact seemed casual. It was probably meant to look casual.
I knew better. Things between them were still going well. Good.
Cersei possessed enough flaws to fill several history books. Yasaka had somehow found the healthier woman buried beneath those layers without pretending the damage had never happened.
More importantly, my mother looked happy. That was enough for me.
Yasaka noticed me watching. Her golden eyes moved from my face to my clothes, lingered briefly on the suspiciously well-groomed state of my tails, and lingered with maternal amusement.
My mother raised her teacup in greeting. "Welcome home, dear."
Cersei gave me a slow, assessing look.
A blur of gold shot across my peripheral vision. I had just enough time to brace. A tiny blonde missile slammed into my stomach with enough force to push me backward across the floor.
Nine golden tails exploded around me.
Kunou wrapped both arms around my waist, planted her feet on top of mine, and glared upward with her cheeks puffed out. Her tails lashed behind her with all the righteous fury a young kitsune could summon.
It was an impressive amount of fury. Unfortunately for her, she was still adorable.
Kunou jabbed one finger into my stomach. "You went on an epic secret spy mission without me!"
I looked down at the accusing finger. "Good morning to you too."
Kunou poked me again, harder this time. "You got to catch bad guys, fly on a fancy airplane, go to another country, and watch super-fast cars!"
I placed both hands beneath her arms and lifted her off my feet. "I'm sorry I didn't take you."
Kunou crossed her arms while dangling in front of me. Her tails continued whipping behind her. "You should be..."
I tucked her against my chest with one arm and used the other hand to ruffle her blonde hair.
Kunou immediately attempted to protect it. "HEY!"
I ignored her protest and scratched gently between her fox ears. Her outrage weakened. One of her feet kicked halfheartedly against my thigh, but she tilted her head into my fingers despite herself. Kitsune ear scratches remained the greatest tactical advantage available to an older brother.
I shifted my fingers to the base of one ear. "The race was ruined after only a few laps. You didn't miss much."
Kunou's eyelids drooped for one blissful second before suspicion returned. "Milim said there was a pool party afterward!"
My fingers stopped.
Heat climbed into my face so quickly that foxfire would have been less conspicuous.
Across the counter, Yasaka's teacup paused halfway to her lips.
Cersei's eyebrows rose.
My clone glanced toward me from the kitchen, took in my expression, and immediately returned to cooking with the unmistakable posture of someone trying not to laugh at itself.
Of course Milim had told Kunou about the pool. Why would the woman who announced intimate details of our relationship at a gathering of ancient Demon Lords exercise discretion around my little sister?
Kunou leaned closer until her nose nearly touched mine. "She said it was really fun. She said there was a giant waterslide, and everybody wore swimsuits, and you made a huge splash. Why couldn't I go?"
I mentally reviewed every possible answer. I settled on a carefully edited version of reality. I resumed scratching behind her ear. "It started as a pool party. Then it became a grown-up gathering that wasn't appropriate for children."
Kunou's eyes narrowed. "Did people drink alcohol? That stuff is yucky."
Yasaka took a deliberate sip of tea to hide her smile.
I kept my expression as neutral as possible. "...Among other things."
Kunou considered that answer, visibly searching for a way around it. "I could have played on the waterslide before the boring grown-up part."
That was technically true.
I hated when she used logic.
Kunou planted both hands on my shoulders. "Next time, I want to play spy too. I'm better at spying than Milim."
I could not argue with that either.
Milim had introduced herself to Tony Stark by announcing that she was not a spy sent on a secret mission to keep him alive.
The bar was buried underground.
I lowered Kunou until her feet touched the floor but kept one hand resting atop her head. "If a safe mission comes up, I'll think about bringing you."
Kunou caught the important weakness immediately. "Promise?"
I hesitated.
Her golden eyes widened. Her lower lip trembled. Her ears drooped. All nine tails sagged toward the floor in a coordinated display of emotional warfare.
No child should possess such power.
Before I surrendered everything—including several sovereign territories and possibly my restaurant—a second blonde figure approached at a brisk military pace.
Tanya wore her familiar dark uniform, although she had left her rifle at the booth. Tanya caught Kunou by the back of her kimono. "Your food is getting cold."
Kunou clutched my shirt with both hands. "I'm talking to my brother."
Tanya began pulling her backward with relentless efficiency. "You are attempting to extort an operational commitment from him using emotional manipulation."
Kunou tightened her grip. "It was working!"
Tanya pulled harder. "That does not make it responsible."
I watched my two little sisters struggle for control of my shirt.
Tanya had not been born into our family. She had first walked into the Fox Hole as a reincarnated child soldier carrying a rifle and enough trauma to make most adults collapse beneath the weight. I had hired her to protect Kunou, but somewhere between birthday parties, interdimensional adventures, shared meals, and repeated attempts to keep both girls alive, employment had stopped describing our relationship.
I called her my little sister.
Tanya planted one boot against the floor and gave a final pull. Kunou's fingers slipped from my shirt one at a time.
My shirt stretched alarmingly before releasing her.
Kunou stumbled backward into Tanya, who caught her without difficulty and immediately redirected her toward the booth.
Tanya pointed toward the waiting plates. "Sit. Eat. Resume your interrogation after breakfast."
Kunou looked over her shoulder at me. "You still owe me a spy mission!"
I lifted both hands in surrender. "I heard you."
Myrcella waved from the booth, smiling as Tanya returned Kunou to her seat. Sora, Kunou's golden retriever, sat beneath the table waiting hopefully for something edible to fall within reach.
The crisis had been delayed. That was the closest thing to victory an older brother could expect.
I turned toward the kitchen. My shadow clone had finished another collection of dishes and was arranging them on the counter. It glanced at me again, silently asking whether I was ready to take over.
Unfortunately, it had been active for several days. Every memory it had formed would return to me the moment it dissolved. The last time I had left a clone operating for that long, the resulting influx nearly put me on the floor.
I rolled my shoulders, drew a slow breath, and prepared for the information headache.
The clone lifted one eyebrow.
I nodded.
Before either of us could dismiss it, the air in the center of the restaurant changed.
Silver-blue light gathered between the tables.
The ordinary morning noise faltered. Conversations stopped one by one as motes of starlight spiraled upward from the floor, bright enough to cast tiny constellations across the walls.
The Fox Hole's dimensional wards welcomed the presence instead of resisting it. Space folded inward with the soft hush of wind moving across a frozen lake.
Ranni emerged from the starlight.
Every whisper in the restaurant died. Her appearances were rare enough to command attention even among customers accustomed to gods, aliens, devils, dragons, and talking slimes. Most people connected to the Fox Hole knew Ranni existed. Far fewer had seen the elusive Moon Goddess in person.
She wore a flowing white-and-blue dress embroidered with patterns resembling the night sky. Her familiar oversized hat framed long blue hair and four elegant blue arms. Moonlight clung to her skin, giving her an ethereal beauty that still managed to steal my breath no matter how many times I saw her.
A long object wrapped in silver-blue cloth hovered vertically behind her, suspended within a faint halo of lunar magic.
I barely noticed it.
My attention belonged entirely to Ranni.
I smiled before I could stop myself and crossed the floor toward her.
Ranni's gaze found mine.
For the briefest moment, her expression softened with naked affection. Then all four of her hands shifted at once. Her upper pair caught the edges of her sleeves. One lower hand adjusted the front of her already immaculate dress. The other retreated behind her back as though she had suddenly forgotten what to do with it.
Her cheeks had darkened from blue to violet.
She would not hold my gaze for more than a second.
I slowed.
Ranni was nervous about something…
XXX
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