Shiraha looked thoughtful, then his eyes lit up.
Elysia decisively preempted him. "No!"
"At least, not until that genetic fragment has truly condensed into a Stigmata prototype. Trying to touch another Authority before then would do more harm than good."
"Besides, from what I've observed, Dystopia's psychokinesis is pretty much the most versatile, most developable ability out there."
Shiraha wasn't disappointed. He was six. He had plenty of time.
He lifted his small face. "I won't bring shame to you, Nee-chan."
Clinging to a powerful thigh feels so damn good!
What exactly Elysia's Authority of Origin truly was remained a mystery. But one thing was certain: she had GM-level privileges.
She could alter fate, performing the magic of destiny once more when even the nun had fallen into despair. She understood Stigmata enough to joke about it with Mobius. And yet she still possessed all the traits of a human, her emotional fluctuations easily detectable by Prometheus.
But none of that mattered. Shiraha didn't care about the esoteric details. As long as Elysia's thigh was thick enough to cling to!
Well... maybe not that thick. He sneaked a glance. A little soft, actually. A bit plump. The way the smooth, supple flesh of her thigh curved gently under her skirt made his small body ache to press closer, to feel that warm, yielding give against his cheek whenever he leaned in.
The subtle jiggle and plush texture promising the kind of reliable anchor he desperately wanted to bury himself against.
"Don't put so much pressure on yourself..."
Elysia was unusually at a loss for words. She rarely imposed expectations on others, and she wasn't quite used to being taken so seriously.
"No!" Shiraha shook his head firmly, though his voice stayed quiet so as not to disturb Mei. "Nee-chan you're second only to Kevin in combat strength from the Previous Era! I absolutely won't bring shame to you!"
Elysia: ....
Her smile turned a little strained. Come to think of it, if Shiraha really had been from the Manticores, he probably wouldn't have survived to see the day the Herrscher of Origin fell.
Shiraha might... possibly... maybe... genuinely have a very high opinion of her.
Oh no. What is this feeling? This sudden weight of expectations, this dread of letting someone down, what the hell is this?!
Outside the window came the sound of car engines, drawing closer. More than one.
Shiraha moved to the window and cautiously peeked through a gap in the curtain.
One, two, three, four, five black sedans were pulling up downstairs, headlights still blazing. The doors opened. The first person out was Ryoma Raiden.
Shiraha turned toward the bed. "Mei. Uncle Ryoma's here."
The blanket stirred. Mei poked half her head out. Her eyes were red, tear tracks still glistening on her cheeks.
She looked at Shiraha, then toward the window. Her lips moved as if to speak, but in the end, she just gave a small nod.
Shiraha extended his hand toward her.
Mei looked at that hand. She hesitated for just a moment. Then she took it.
His palm was sweaty, but warm. Shiraha said nothing more. He simply gave her hand a gentle squeeze and, just like always, led her out.
Passing through the living room, Mei's gaze drifted instinctively to the side. In the next instant, Shiraha's hand pressed firmly over her eyes, cradling her head.
"Don't look!"
Mei stared into Shiraha's eyes. She pressed her lips together and nodded. Then her steps quickened, nearly breaking into a run as she pulled Shiraha through that door.
Hurried footsteps echoed up the stairwell. Ryoma Raiden appeared in the doorway, his forehead slick with sweat.
His eyes went first to Mei. His daughter was fine standing there, eyes red but uninjured.
Then to Shiraha. The boy's expression was calm, though his lips were pale, as if he'd been biting down on them. He looked like someone holding his breath, waiting for a signal.
Ryoma walked over, crouched down. One arm wrapped around Mei. The other hand settled on Shiraha's shoulder.
"It's over now." His voice was a little hoarse, but steady. "It's all over. Leave things here to me."
Shiraha's shoulders eased, just slightly.
Clinging to a powerful thigh feels so damn good!
Ryoma didn't look into the room. He had a feeling the scene wasn't pretty. Mei's Stigmata alone could easily trigger a small-scale Honkai eruption.
Shiraha... probably wasn't far behind.
In the car, Mei remained silent. Shiraha hung his head too. Ryoma had taken the wheel himself. Glancing at the two small figures slumped against opposite sides of the backseat through the rearview mirror, he realized this situation was far more complicated than he'd imagined.
Time passed. The scenery outside the window grew familiar.
"We're home."
Ryoma spoke softly. He looked hesitantly at the two children in the back, each leaning against their own side.
Shiraha didn't make things difficult for him. He lifted his head at that moment, a faint smile returning to his face, just a small one. He scooted over to Mei and gently tugged at her arm. "We're home, Mei-nee."
Mei snapped out of her daze. Seeing Shiraha's expression, so much like it always was, she wanted to smile back. But she couldn't.
In the end, with Shiraha's prompting, she opened the rear door and hopped out first.
Neither of them ate dinner that evening. Mei truly had no appetite. As for Shiraha...
"Bet you're starving."
Elysia sat on the edge of the bed, enjoying his misery. This was the first time she'd seen Shiraha at a disadvantage. The kid had been a little too reckless, a little too used to getting his way, age be damned.
Shiraha lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The lights were off. The room was dark.
"Nee-chan. Would it be weird if I snuck out in the middle of the night to grab something to eat?"
Elysia pondered for a moment. "I suppose... that would be fairly normal."
So Shiraha waited and waited. Until the night was deep and the house had fallen completely silent. Only then did he quietly push open the door and slip out.
Elysia followed, just as stealthy. Sure, no one could see her anyway, but for the sake of atmosphere, she played along.
Two minutes later, Elysia watched as Shiraha sat on the floor in front of the open refrigerator, a piece of bread clutched in his small hands, a carton of milk beside him. He ate in quiet, tiny bites.
She settled down beside him, leaning against the fridge. One knee drawn up, her arm wrapped around it. The other leg stretched out lazily.
"You Manticore people didn't have it easy either."
Her voice was soft. No pity, more like a faint, wistful sentiment carried across a vast stretch of time.
Shiraha paused mid-bite. He didn't answer. He just resumed his quiet eating.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught her watching him. He tentatively offered the bread in his hand toward her.
Elysia blinked. "I don't need to eat, Shiraha."
Besides, she had no idea what would happen if she tried to bite into it. What if it just fell straight through her body and onto the floor? How mortifying would that be?
Shiraha nodded and withdrew the bread. But then he thought he heard something, a sound, very faint, very brief.
Like a swallow.
An accidental one.
He offered the bread again.
"I don't want any..."
Elysia's voice was quieter than before.
This time, Shiraha was more tactful. Smiling, he raised the bread a little higher.
Elysia couldn't refuse him. She had no choice but to take a small bite.
Shiraha considered himself Sister's anchor point. Throughout the entire process, he kept his hand firmly clasped around hers. He didn't let go.
Elysia chewed slowly. Sweet. There was cream... Her eyes stung for a moment, but she blinked hard and forced the sensation back.
Shiraha spoke with quiet seriousness. "Someday, I'll feed nee-chan out in the open."
Elysia let out a soft laugh. "And how will you explain that?"
Shiraha thought about it. He broke the bread in half, stuffed one piece into his own mouth, and handed her the other.
"I'll tell them: she's my friend. My Elysia-nee. She's the one who helped me do all of this."
He spoke around his mouthful of bread, voice muffled but every word distinct.
Even if it made people think he was crazy. Even if they diagnosed him with schizophrenia or some delusional disorder.
He swallowed hard. But it didn't matter. He wasn't actually a kid.