Lunch was awkward. Excruciatingly so.
We sat around the table, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the plates. Reimi sat at the end, nearest the back door. She ate three slices of pizza in about three minutes. She held the crust like it was something precious someone might try to snatch away.
My parents watched her with sympathy.
I watched her with terror, knowing that the "scared runaway" was really a heavily-armed super-soldier who could decapitate a hippo with a punch.
Althea picked at her food, eyes glued to her phone. She was typing under the table to Linda, who was fidgeting in her seat two chairs away and checking her own screen every few seconds. Whatever they were saying to each other, they weren't going to say out loud.
"So, Reimi," Mom said gently, pouring a glass of milk. "Where are you from originally? You have an accent."
Reimi paused mid-chew. "Around."
"Around?"
"Here and there," Reimi said. "I… didn't have a normal upbringing."
"I see," Mom said. She reached out to put a hand on Reimi's forearm.
Oh god, I thought, my knuckles turning white on my fork. Don't flip her, Reimi. Don't engage CQC protocols on my mother. Please, please, please.
Reimi stiffened. Her muscles coiled visibly under the cartoon cat shirt. But she didn't pull away. She looked at Mom's hand like it was a foreign object — dangerous but curious.
"You're safe here, honey," Mom said softly, taking her hand away. "Whatever you're running from, it's not in this kitchen."
Reimi looked at Mom. For a second, the hard cynical mask slipped. She looked… lost.
"Everything is somewhere," Reimi muttered, pulling her arm back slowly.
"Well, you're welcome to stay," Dad said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "We have the guest room upstairs. Clean sheets. A lock on the door."
Reimi froze. She looked at the ceiling, then at the floor.
"No upstairs," she said immediately.
"Why not?" Mom asked. "It's much more comfortable."
"Too many windows. Streetlights. Noise." She took a bite of crust. "I prefer — I don't want to impose, but the basement is nice."
"Basement?" Dad said, eyebrows rising. "Sweetheart, we don't have a proper bed down there. Just a couch."
"I prefer it." Reimi set the crust down. Her fingers twitched. "It's enclosed. I feel safer. It's quiet."
Dad and Mom shared a look. A silent conversation that lasted a few seconds. Mom gave a subtle nod. Dad turned back to Reimi, his expression soft.
"Alright," he said. "We can drag the mattress from the guest room down to the basement if that's better for you. But there are some ground rules. We're not going to interrogate you or pry. You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. But if you're staying here, I expect you to respect this house. Respect the people in it. If you steal, or lie, or hurt someone, we're going to have to ask you to leave."
Reimi nodded. "I understand."
"Also, you can't keep sleeping in subway tunnels," Mom added firmly. "You're going to get yourself hurt."
"I can handle myself," Reimi said quietly.
She reached for a fifth slice, then stopped. She glanced at the window, where the sun was bright on the backyard, and tensed briefly.
"I need some air," she said, pushing back her chair.
"What? Now?" Mom asked. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I just need to move. It's crowded in here. I'll check the neighborhood. Be back soon."
"Do you want company?" Althea offered. "We could —"
"No," Reimi cut her off. "Sorry. Not personal. I just... need to think."
Dad held up a hand. "It's okay, Althea. If Reimi needs space, we give her space." He walked over and held out a keyring. "Reimi, take this. The front door locks automatically. Don't get locked out."
She stared at the keys like they were an alien object, then gingerly took them.
"Thank you," she said, barely above a whisper. "I'll return soon."
"Be back by dinner!" Mom called as Reimi stepped out into the sunlight and vanished around the side of the house, moving with a speed that was definitely not normal for a runaway teenager.
"Well," Mom sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. "She's a skittish one. But I've met worse."
"Is it a good idea to let her wander the neighborhood?" Linda asked.
"She looks like she's around your age," Dad said, giving Linda a firm look. "She can make her own decisions. I just hope she doesn't do anything stupid."
He turned to me. "Maya. You're the one who brought her here. Do you think she'll be okay?"
"Um. Yeah," I stammered. I was still processing the fact that my mother had put a hand on Reimi's arm and lived. "She's just — really paranoid. And tired. And traumatized. And hungry."
"That's one word for it," Dad muttered, watching Reimi disappear down the street. "Poor thing looks like she was starving herself."
"Probably hasn't had a decent meal in weeks," Mom agreed. "She seems like a good kid. Just needs stability. And a shower. A long shower."
I bit back a laugh. Mom was right. Reimi had this weird, gritty smell, like she'd been bathing in a sauna. After the dungeons though, that was an improvement.
"We can get her some clothes and a phone tomorrow," Dad said, leaning back. "For now, let's give her space."
"Linda said she helped you guys pick the lock on the maintenance hatch?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," I said, voice maybe a little too high. "She, uh, knows her way around a bobby pin, that's for sure."
Nevermind that she'd actually kicked a steel vault door off its hinges like it was cardboard. That was a bit more than bobby pin proficiency.
"Interesting skill set for a random girl you met in the dungeon," Dad said. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "She have a record?"
"I don't know!" I said, too fast. "I mean, maybe? Probably? I don't know." Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Dad's eyes narrowed. "Maya. I'm going to be blunt. I don't want you hanging around with criminals."
"I'm… not?"
He gave me a hard stare, then sighed and shook his head. "Okay. Okay. I trust you. Just be careful. Reimi seems like a troubled young woman, and I don't want you getting mixed up in anything dangerous. That means no more wandering around the restricted sections of the tunnels."
"Understood," I said quickly.
We'd all come up with a story before bringing her unconscious body home last night: Reimi was a random runaway we'd found in the Harrison section of the dungeon, and we'd gotten her out before it collapsed. She'd helped us.
It was technically true, minus a few hundred monsters that were way over the projected difficulty curve. We'd just left out the part where Reimi was the one who killed the monsters and saved our lives.
I didn't want to think about how Dad would react if he knew. He wasn't a strict person. But he was the kind of guy who took being a parent very seriously, and I wasn't sure how he'd feel about his daughter running around with someone who could bend steel beams with her fingers.
Especially when I was supposed to be the leader.
"Also," Dad added, "if Reimi is going to stay with us, I'm going to have to make some calls. I don't want to get the cops involved, but we can't have a minor living here without some kind of paperwork. Do you have any idea where she's from?"
"Um, Japan, I think," I said lamely. "She didn't say much about her past."
"We'll have to get some answers from her sooner or later." Dad sighed. "For now, let's just focus on getting her settled. It's going to take time for her to adjust."
"Sounds like a plan," I said, forcing a smile.
"And no more going into the dungeons unsupervised."
I froze. "What?"
"You heard me. You're still a Class 1 rookie, and you're not cleared to enter a dungeon without a chaperone. If you keep breaking the rules, you're going to get in serious trouble."
"Trouble?" Althea said. "What kind of trouble?"
"The legal kinda trouble, kid." Dad's voice was flat. "You're not kids anymore. You're not in elementary school. You're not on a playground. Well, technically you are I guess. When you enter that dungeon, there are real consequences. You could get fined or arrested. Who knows? Private and public-sector dungeons don't have to meet the same standards. Some have been outright disasters. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Y-Yes," I said.
"Good," Dad said, softening. "I know you want to help people. That's a good thing. But you need to do it responsibly. If you want to be a Hero, you can't cut corners. The rules exist because people died writing them. If you ignore that, the best outcome is a cell. The worst is a casket. And that goes for all of you."
"Got it," I said. "I promise."
Ding-Dong.
The doorbell.
Not the frantic ringing of a friend. A single, authoritative chime.
It was 2:30 PM.
Dad frowned, checking his watch. "Who is that? We weren't expecting anyone else, were we?"
"I'll get it!" I shouted, panic spiking. "It's probably — Althea's homework! She forgot it!"
"My homework delivers itself?" Althea whispered.
"Just go with it!" I hissed.
I ran to the front hall, skidding on the hardwood. I threw the door open, praying for a neighbor.
Standing on the porch was a man. Tall, wearing a charcoal-gray suit that looked expensive without trying to. Sharp cheekbones, salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, wire-rimmed glasses catching the afternoon sun. He held a tablet in one hand.
The scariest thing in the world isn't a monster.
It's a man in a good suit with a tablet and an appointment.
"Good afternoon," he said. His voice was smooth, polite, and devoid of warmth. "This is the Hoshino residence?"
"Um," I squeaked. "Yes?"
Dad stepped up behind me, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His posture shifted instantly — spine straight, chin lifted. Retired Sentinel mode.
"Can I help you?" Dad asked.
The man smiled. It looked like something he'd practiced in a mirror.
"I'm Inspector Thorne. Tri-State Sentinel Association." He flashed a holographic badge from the tablet. "I apologize for the intrusion so soon after your return, Mr. Hoshino. Welcome back to New Jersey."
Dad's eyes narrowed. "You tracked my flight?"
"Standard procedure for registered personnel entering a high-activity zone," Thorne said smoothly. "May I come in? It's a routine inquiry regarding a localized mana anomaly."
"What kind of anomaly?" Dad asked, not moving from the doorway.
"A Class-3 discharge. Traced to this grid coordinate. Roughly eighteen hours ago."
I felt my smile lock in place - the one that's all teeth and no confidence.
Eighteen hours ago. That was when we brought Reimi home. That was when she… did whatever she did.
"A Class-3?" Dad laughed, short and incredulous. "Inspector, I'm retired. Same for my wife. My daughter is sixteen and a Level-15 rookie. Unless our microwave malfunctioned, you have the wrong house."
"The sensors are quite precise," Thorne said, his voice dropping a fraction. "And the signature matches residual energy from the Turnpike Collapse. We're just trying to rule out any unregistered hazards. Monster leaks. That sort of thing."
He leaned forward slightly. "You understand, Mr. Hoshino. We can't have dangerous, unregistered elements hiding in suburbia."
I looked toward the backyard, where Reimi was probably scaling a fence right now.
If he found her. If he scanned her.
I reached into my pocket. My fingers brushed the hot, vibrating surface of the Decoy.
I stepped out from behind my dad.
Thorne looked down at me. He looked at my pajamas, my bare feet on the hardwood, my pigtails. He raised a single skeptical eyebrow.
"You?" he asked, clicking the device in his hand.
"Level 15. Tier 1…" he muttered.
"I — I think I leveled up," I lied, my voice shaking.
"Leveled up," Thorne repeated, amused. "To Class-3? That's Anti-Tank to Anti-Building classification, young lady. Steep curve for someone at Level 15."
"I got scared," I said. I pulled the Star Heart out of my pajama pocket. Pink light flared at my collar — and in the space of a breath, my uniform snapped into place over me, wand in hand, the prismatic lens melded in. The wand hummed with a terrifying, unstable power. "In the tunnel. I got scared, and I just… pushed."
Thorne looked at the lens. His amusement vanished. He looked at the mana coming off it — dense, unstable, heavy.
Dad looked at the lens. Then at me.
His eyes flashed green briefly, and then his face went through wonder and terror in the same half-second.
"A Limit Break," Dad whispered. "At Level 15?"
"I think so," I squeaked.
Thorne adjusted his glasses. He looked from the lens to my face. He didn't look scary anymore. He looked interested.
"Well," Thorne said, tapping his tablet. "Color me skeptical, but the data doesn't lie."
He looked at my wand, then at the house, then at the neatly trimmed hedge.
"Would you care to demonstrate?" he asked. "If you could fire a test shot, just to confirm the intensity of the blast."
I stared at the lens. I felt the pulsing power in my palm. I looked at my house. Then at Dad.
"We don't have a target dummy," Dad said, worried.
"Ah," Thorne smiled. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small metal cube the size of a golf ball. "Not to worry. She's an Astra, correct?"
He tossed it onto the road in front of the house. It hit the pavement, unfolded, and grew into a shimmering silver statue of a man. Vaguely humanoid. Faceless. A small logo on the chest read NJSA. It raised its arms, spreading its fingers. Small panels on its wrists opened, revealing glowing blue crystals.
"Sentinel Association standard training golem," Thorne explained, gesturing. "Mana-hardened, kinetic-absorbent alloy. Perfectly safe, and designed to absorb heavy impacts. Please. Take your shot. Consider it a field test."
I stared at the golem. A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead.
"Maya," Dad said gently, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to —"
"I'm afraid we must insist," Thorne cut in. "For the safety of the neighborhood. If Ms. Hoshino is an Astra capable of a Class-3 discharge, she needs to register. And we need to confirm her attack output."
He smiled thinly at my father. Crap. I wasn't made for politics, but even I could see the veiled threat.
"You understand the importance of safety regulations, Mr. Hoshino."
Dad looked at him. Then at me. Then at the golem. He sighed heavily, shoulders sagging.
"Just be careful, Maya," Dad said softly. "And try to aim away from the house. Your attacks can't hurt people, but it can still leave quite the mark."
I swallowed. My throat was dry. I lifted my scepter, the pink crystal causing my arm to shake. I pointed it at the golem. The wand vibrated, humming. It felt like holding a lightning bolt.
Thorne tapped his tablet, and the golem's panels flickered. It spread its arms wider. The crystals on its wrists glowed brighter.
"Ready," Thorne said. He stepped back, behind me.
The golem raised one hand, palm out. A blue translucent bubble of light surrounded it. The air shimmered around the shield like heat haze on a summer road.
I took a deep breath. I focused on the golem, on the sensation of the power coursing through me, and I pushed.
"Starlight… Shine!"
A blinding pink beam erupted from my scepter. The recoil nearly knocked me off my feet.
The air around the golem rippled with the shockwave. The ground beneath it cratered. The beam slammed into its shield with a deafening crack, and the shield warped, bending inward like a soap bubble.
For a moment, it looked like the beam would fizzle.
Then it intensified. The golem's head snapped back. The ground under it shook. The golem was driven back several inches, its feet carving two deep gouges into the lawn. The beam kept pouring out of my scepter, and I felt my grip on the wand start to slip. I tightened my fingers. It was like trying to hold onto a live wire. The shield flickered again, and with a final deafening crack, shattered.
The golem let out an electronic whir. The beam punched through its torso, leaving a smoking, molten hole. The golem staggered, arms flailing, sparks erupting from the wound.
The beam died.
The golem fell backwards into the lawn, limbs twitching.
I stood there, panting. My heart was pounding. My whole body was tingling, my hands numb. I could smell burning metal. I looked at my scepter, then at the smoking ruin of the golem.
…And at the smoking trail of melted grass leading all the way down through the trees to the front porch.
Oops. Too much.
"Huh," Thorne said, voice flat. He looked at his tablet.
Then he looked back at the golem, then at me.
"Huh…"
He stepped forward and poked the golem with the toe of his expensive shoe. The golem didn't respond.
I stared at the wreckage. The hole in its chest glowed red-hot, dripping molten metal.
I could have sworn I saw a small mushroom cloud dissipating over it.
"Umm… surprise?" I squeaked.