I fumbled with my keys, my hands still shaking a little. The click of the lock in the quiet of the neighborhood was ridiculously loud.

  "I have to say... for the record. Your boy Julian is insufferable," Reimi's grumble cut through the silence as I pushed open the door.

  "He has his moments," I paused, a small smile playing on my lips as I thought about him rubbing his head sheepishly the way he always does.

  I could practically hear her scowl. "Not only did he not apologize for being a burden, but he had the audacity to lecture me. Threaten me, even."

  "To be fair," I offered, "he thought you were a soul-sucking abyss of darkness and despair that had me, like, kidnapped. He was just doing the whole 'childhood best friend' thing."

  She just grunted.

  "He's a liability," she stated, matter-of-factly. "He's going to get himself killed. Or worse. He is going to get someone else killed. He needs to go on an extended vacation. Like the kind you take on a one-way ticket."

  "He's usually not that bad," I said, finally opening the door.

  "Really? To me, he's just an absolute idiot," she corrected. "He runs on pure, unfiltered stupidity and a misguided sense of narcissistic pride that is going to get him turned into a smear on the pavement."

  "Jules is a good guy. I promise you," I said, a little more firmly than I meant to. "He's just... been through a lot."

  I was trying to not make this messier than it already was.

  But it was true.

  "Through a lot? He's a high schooler!" she scoffed.

  I clenched my fists again.

  Breathe, Maya. Cool it.

  "I know he's a boy who runs into places he doesn't belong, armed with a piece of sporting equipment and a complete lack of self-preservation," she shot back. "I've seen dozens of guys just like him. They all end up the same way: a cautionary tale and a messy cleanup."

  I whirled on her. "He is not one of your... your whatever-things from nightmare-land! He's my friend! And he's been through stuff. Stuff you wouldn't understand."

  She scoffed. "Oh, here we go. The 'your world is so different' speech."

  "It's not a speech. It's a fact!" I shot back, my own frustration bubbling up. "You think he's just some dumb jock with a misguided, overinflated ego? He's not. He's scared. He's terrified, okay?! Unlike you, I actually know him! Do I have to remind you that you are the one who dragged us off into some horror show pocket dimension?"

  The words tumbled out of me, a torrent of stress over the last day.

  "You think that was arrogance back there? That little 'I'll stop you' speech? That wasn't arrogance. It was panic! It's the same panic he's had since he was eight or nine years old. It's the same panic he had when he had to watch his own mom's world get torn apart by a divorce."

  I had to stop for a breath, my hands clenched at my sides.

  "His dad was this... this guy. Big shot around here. Real charismatic, you know? A lawyer. Talked a good game. But behind closed doors, he was a monster. Not the hitting kind. The other kind. The kind that chips away at you, piece by piece, until there's nothing left. He made her feel worthless. He made her feel small. He made her feel like she was crazy. He made JULIAN think he was crazy for years. Chipped away at him about one A-minus in a column of As until he quit trying altogether."

  I was rambling. I was babbling. But I couldn't stop.

  "He had to stand there and watch it happen. Helpless. For years. They looked like the perfect couple on the outside, but he knew. First, she quit her job. Then, she stopped seeing her friends. Then, she stopped going out. Lost weight. Then, she just... stopped. He was just a kid. He couldn't fix it."

  I took a shaky breath, the memory of a bawling fourteen-year-old Julian flashed in my mind.

  "My dad was the first to catch on, and he didn't catch on until like, two years ago. And he practically took Julian in as a third kid as we grew up. But it was too late. The damage was done."

  The anger in Reimi's eyes was gone. She was just staring at me, her face a blank mask.

  "So, no," I said, my voice cracking. "He wasn't being arrogant. He has this whole 'protect the people I care about at all costs' thing. But it's not because he thinks he's a big shot. It's because he's so, so scared of being helpless again. Of watching someone he loves get erased right in front of him, and not being able to do a damn thing about it."

  I looked at her, my vision blurring a little. I tried to breathe, calm myself down.

  "...Can you imagine yourself in his shoes for a second?" I whispered. "Watching this big, powerful person everyone loves smile, host charities, and then come home and systematically destroy you and your mother from the inside out? Sending you to military camp over making him look bad at a wedding banquet? When nobody would believe you because there were no scars? And he had to watch it all. Helplessly."

  A fresh wave of anger washed over me.

  "And then you show up! This... this person who radiates power and danger and a level of 'I'm about to wreck your day' that he can probably feel from a mile away. And he's terrified. Not of you. Of what you represent. He sees you, and he sees that playing out again. He sees a power that could hurt people, that could hurt me. And he's not going to just stand by and let it happen. Not again. He can't. He'd rather die."

  Reimi just stood there, her face unreadable. Her mask was in place.

  But for a split second, I thought I saw something in her eyes.

  A flicker of... something. A crack in the ice. A memory?

  "...He's been fighting monsters his whole life, Reimi..." I said softly, feeling my adrenaline dump. "They just didn't have claws and fangs. They had briefcases and nice, pearly white smiles."

  The world around us felt quiet. Too quiet.

  I could feel the familiar, crushing weight of my own words. The guilt, the anger, the helplessness.

  I'd just unloaded my best friend's fresh wounds and deepest pain onto a girl who collected trauma like other people collected stamps.

  Way to go, Maya.

  Great social skills.

  "I... I'm sorry," I stammered. "I shouldn't have... that's not my story to tell. And I know he caused us a ton of trouble today. I just hope you can understand where he's coming from. It doesn't make putting us in danger better, but I can't imagine that fear aura you told us about made things better."

  Reimi didn't say anything.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  She just stood there, her face unreadable, her eyes fixed on me, turning from red to brown.

  And then, they crinkled.

  She turned away, her back to me, and walked to the edge of the porch. She looked out at the street, at the quiet, suburban darkness.

  "Then... he shouldn't make it my problem," she said, her voice hollow and soft. "He'd better stay away if he knows what's good for him."

  I sucked in another breath and pushed the door open. The familiar smell of my house hit me like a warm hug.

  The scent of old books, my dad's coffee, and the faint, lingering smell of my mom's lemon-scented cleaner.

  "Dad? I'm home!" I called out, my voice a little too bright, a little too cheerful.

  "In the living room, kiddo!" he called back. "How was the outlet mall?"

  My heart did a little pitter-patter of nervous energy.

  Mall. Right.

  "Oh, you know," I said, kicking off my shoes and trying to look casual. "It was... mall-y. We got... stuff."

  Reimi followed me in, her movements silent and fluid, like a cat. She stood by the door, a dark, imposing presence in our warm, cozy living room.

  My dad was sitting in his favorite armchair, a book open on his lap. He looked up, a smile on his face.

  "Hey, sweetie," he said, his gaze landing on me. And then, it shifted to Reimi. "Picked up a black hoodie? No offense, kid, but you're going to melt in this weather."

  Reimi nodded her head in a gesture of respect. "Good evening, Mr. Hoshino."

  My dad's smile didn't falter, but I saw it. The change in his eyes.

  It was a flicker. A tiny, almost imperceptible shift.

  His eyes glowed for a split second. A soft, green light.

  I gulped, seeing him glance over us both, me in particular.

  For all intents and purposes, my dad was a regular suburban dad who liked old detective novels and complaining about his lawn.

  But he wasn't. Not really.

  He had the Eyes of Gaia. A support skill that let him see the world in... layers. He's never told me exactly HOW much he could see, but my little brother and I both knew he could see things other people can't. It made it so much harder for either of us to ever hide something.

  I didn't know how it worked, but I could guess.

  My dad, for all his jokes and his gruff exterior, was a Sentinel. A veteran. He'd seen things. He knew the look.

  He was looking at me, and he could see the wear and tear. He could see the emotional toll of the last twenty-four hours.

  And then, he looked at Reimi.

  And he saw... everything. If I could see it, he definitely could.

  He saw what I saw. The exhaustion. The bone-deep weariness that went way beyond a long day at the mall.

  He saw the subtle way she held herself, the coiled tension in her shoulders, the alertness in her eyes, the way she took in the room, cataloging every exit, every potential threat.

  "Are the girls home already?" a muffled voice rang from deeper in the house.

  The smell hit me first as the door swung open. A massive, mouth-watering wave of garlic, baked bechamel sauce, and teriyaki sauce that completely overpowered the ozone still clinging to our clothes.

  My mom marched into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, her face flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and she was wearing her favorite pink apron. Her eyes landed on us, and she beamed.

  "MAI MAI! My baby! You're home!"

  Before I could even form a coherent sentence, my mom had swooped in. She grabbed my neck in her hands, her palms warm and smelling like lemon and garlic.

  "Oh my god," my mom gasped. "Look at the two of you. You look like you've been fighting a war in the Macy's parking lot. You're nothing but skin and bones, the both of you!"

  Reimi immediately stiffened, her instincts flaring. She took a half-step back, her weight shifting to the balls of her feet.

  "You're so thin! You've barely been eating these days."

  "Moooooom," I whined, trying to pull away "I'm fine."

  "Nonsense! You are a growing girl! I made extra tonight!" she said, finally letting me go.

  She turned her attention to Reimi, who was frozen in place like a deer in headlights.

  And then, my mom did the unthinkable.

  She jumped in and hugged her.

  She wrapped her arms around Reimi's stiff, unyielding form and pulled her into a tight, bone-crushing hug. She was a good four or five inches shorter than Reimi, but she had a grip like a bear. I knew - from personal experience.

  If this were a monster, it would already have a shotgun slug through its center mass.

  But this was my mother the day my dad came home from a business trip. And Reimi had absolutely no defense for that.

  "There, there," my mom murmured, patting Reimi's back. "Good to see you up and about after our sweet Maya dragged you home last night looking like you'd had a nasty run-in with a, you know... feral shopping cart."

  "I do not require—"

  "You require a hot meal before you pass out on my rug," my mom interrupted, completely steamrolling the attitude as she let go of the hug. She didn't hesitate.

  Reimi flinched. Hard. It was a fast, visceral flinch, but it was there. Her whole body tensed.

  My mom paused for a fraction of a second, her eyes softening as she registered the reaction. But she didn't let go. Instead, she just gently, firmly hooked her arm through Reimi's and began marching her toward the kitchen.

  "It's okay, sweetie," my mom said, her voice softening. She gently guided Reimi toward the light of the kitchen, her touch firm but impossibly gentle. "Let's get you settled in and cleaned up. And don't you dare tell me you're fine. I'm a mother. I have a PhD in 'Not Fine'."

  Reimi shot me a desperate, panicked look over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide in horror.

  She was a god-killing, interdimensional warrior who had just faced down an army of mechanical abominations. And she was being completely and utterly decimated by a five-foot-four woman with a lemon-scented apron.

  I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it probably came out as a grimace of sympathy.

  There was no stopping my mom when she was in 'Nurture Mode.'

  I followed them into the kitchen, bracing myself.

  The kitchen was my dad's domain more often than not. But man when my mom went out, she went all the way.

  It was bright and warm, the counters cluttered with canisters of spices and family photos tucked into the edges of the frame. The table was already set, three places, with steaming platters of food waiting.

  A giant pan of pastitsio, the top crusty and golden-brown, sat next to a bowl of vibrant green salad. And there, in the center of the table, was a platter of chicken skewers glistening with a sweet, dark teriyaki glaze.

  "Sit," my mom commanded, pointing a wooden spoon at a chair. "You. Sit. Now."

  Reimi looked at the chair like it was an electric chair. She hesitated for a second, her mind clearly racing, trying to find an escape route.

  "Now, honey," my mom said, her voice a little softer this time.

  Reimi slowly, cautiously, sat down. She looked like she was expecting the chair to explode.

  "I, um—" Reimi tried to protest.

  "The pastitsio just came out of the oven. If you tell me you're not hungry, I'll know you're lying, and I don't tolerate liars in my kitchen."

  I trailed behind them, my jaw practically on the floor.

  My mom pushed Reimi into a chair and immediately turned to the stove. She returned a moment later with a plate roughly the size of a manhole cover, piled high with thick, steaming layers of baked pasta, rich meat sauce, and a golden, bubbly crust. She set it in front of Reimi, then dropped a slightly smaller one in front of me.

  "Eat," my mom commanded.

  Reimi stared at the plate. "I... I didn't earn—"

  "Earn it?" My mom stopped wiping the counter and looked at Reimi, her brow furrowing.

  She walked over and stood right beside Reimi's chair, hands on her hips. "Sweetheart, you don't 'earn' dinner in this house. You eat it because you're breathing and because I made it."

  And then, my mom did the unthinkable again. She reached down with her damp dish towel and gently wiped a faint smudge of soot off Reimi's cheek.

  Her hand lingered for just a second, a warm, anchoring squeeze on Reimi's back.

  "I can't stress this enough. You're safe here. Now eat before it gets cold."

  I watched Reimi. I watched her perfectly constructed, lethal exterior absolutely shatter.

  She was obviously a hardened veteran, a rampaging superweapon who had survived the end of a world. The way I saw it, she operated on a feigned model of points, equivalent exchange, transactional survival, and the constant expectation of punishment.

  But sitting at that table, under the warm, yellow kitchen lights, with a mother fussing over her... she just blue-screened.

  She paused, lifting up a fork. She poked at the pasta.

  Reimi took a bite. She chewed slowly. And then, I saw it.

  A single, silent tear slipped down her cheek, catching the kitchen light before dripping onto the table.

  She quickly, angrily wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, keeping her head bowed so her dark hair hid her eyes. She didn't say a word. She just kept eating, taking small, fast bites like she was afraid someone was going to pull the plate away.

  I sat there, my own food completely forgotten. The anger and frustration I'd felt on the porch evaporated.

  Julian was right about her being a void. But he was wrong about what kind.

  She wasn't a black hole trying to destroy everything. She was just... empty. So incredibly, painfully empty.

  My mom bustled back to the sink, humming a quiet tune, pretending not to notice the tears. My dad walked into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and fondly squeezed my shoulder as he passed.

  I watched quietly as Reimi aggressively ate her casserole, looking small and fragile and undeniably human.

  I barely knew the girl who called herself Reimi. She'd quite literally burst through a door into my life last night.

  She'd put us in danger with that call to close the Wound. I'd seen the horrors last night, and what we faced was nothing in comparison to the things she had to fight. I had no idea what to say to a girl like her.

  I had no idea where she came from, what she’d been through, or the true extent of the power she carried.

  But I knew she was here now.

  And we were going to figure it out.

  All of it.

  I picked up my chopsticks the metal heavy in my hand, and finally took a bite of my own dinner. It tasted like home.

  I looked up, seeing her sulk against the terrifying force of my mother's unconditional love.

  I was starting to realize, for all her apparent invincibility and toughness — that there was one thing she was completely defenseless against.