The elevator ground to a halt with a shudder.

The doors hissed open, revealing the bridge-turned-office of Tarek Solan.

Once a Haven frigate's command deck, the space had been stripped down and repurposed. Military precision worn away by practical retrofit. The curved viewport dominated the far wall, offering a sweeping view of the Yard: platforms stacked like scaffolding over a dying star, drifting workers lit by weld-sparks and salvage floodlights.

It looked almost elegant from up here.

Tarek stood at the center, shoulders squared, posture casual in the way only earned authority could be. His clothes were a blend of reinforced workwear and salvaged combat gear. Worn but maintained. Like him.

"Kara," he said, offering a nod that became a smile. His gaze shifted. "And Akiko Tsukihara. Always a pleasure to see the Driftknight crew."

"Would've been sooner," Kara replied, tone dry. "But Dock Clamp 47-Gamma doesn't exactly scream urgency."

Tarek chuckled. "It's not meant to. Quiet places for quiet business." His eyes flicked back to Akiko, unreadable. "I hope the Yard's treated you well."

Akiko's ears twitched. She held her posture firm. "It's always an experience."

He didn't press. Just gestured toward a repurposed conference table. "Let's get to it."

They took their seats. Kara leaned back, arms crossed. "There was a dragon holed up in the asteroid belt. Treasure hoard. Wreckage, artifacts, the works. We were scouting when the Sovereign engaged the dragonlings. Akiko went in to scout the hoard."

Tarek's brow lifted. "You went inside? Alone?"

Akiko met his gaze. "Didn't have much choice. Letting the Sovereign stumble in blind wasn't an option."

Kara picked up the thread. "We moved in to support her. Things got bad fast. The dragon made its presence known, Haven escalated. We pulled back. Once the dragon withdrew, we went back to salvage."

"You went back down after the Sovereign left the field?" Tarek asked.

Kara smirked. "They were licking their wounds. We took what we could before Haven locked the place down."

Tarek leaned back, expression a mix of admiration and caution. "Bold. What'd you recover?"

"Enough to keep us flying," Kara said. "Or enough to make us targets." She didn't smile. Not really. "Mana-infused alloys, artifacts, tech fragments. Some of it… unstable. But it's valuable."

Tarek's gaze slid to Akiko again, eyes narrowing. "Which brings us to you."

Akiko frowned. "What about me?"

"Haven's issued a bounty," he said. "Dead or alive. Bonus if you're delivered in one piece. They're calling you a colony terrorist."

Her breath caught. "A terrorist? For what?"

Tarek's tone was dry. "For being you, apparently. Your stunts didn't go unnoticed. They want to know how you escaped. What else you can do."

Kara ran a hand through her hair, muttering something sharp under her breath.

Akiko leaned back, tail flicking against the chair. Her thoughts ran cold. She'd been hunted before. This felt worse. Institutional.

"Well," she said. "At least they're consistent."

Tarek rested his arms on the table, gaze flicking between them. "With this much heat, I can't afford to be seen working with the Driftknight. Not openly."

Kara tensed, but said nothing.

"I'm not cutting you loose," Tarek added, raising a hand. "The colonies protect their own. I've arranged a cooling-off period. You'll go to Callistra."

Kara blinked. "The resort moon?"

"There's a place there. Obsidian Shores. Quiet. Seedy enough to keep Haven away. You'll disappear. Rest. Let things cool down."

Akiko's brow lifted. "You think they'll give up?"

"They always do, if there's nothing to chase." Tarek shrugged. "No signals. No sightings. Keep your crew off the grid. You'll be fine."

Kara's posture eased, just a little. "Callistra isn't cheap."

"Handled," Tarek said. "Just don't make me regret it."

Kara nodded. "We'll make it work."

Akiko didn't speak, but the tension in her shoulders stayed. Disappearing sounded easy, but she wasn't sure she knew how.

Tarek leaned back in his chair, attention already drifting toward the next crisis.

Kara took that as their dismissal.

They stepped into the elevator in silence, the doors hissing shut behind them.

As the lift decelerated and opened, Kara and Akiko pulled themselves along the handrails, the Yard's maze of corridors unfolding around them in dim, clanging layers.

The hum of machinery reverberated through the metal, punctuated by distant shouts, welding sparks, and the endless rhythm of a place built from salvage.

Kara moved with practiced ease. Every pivot and grip was precise, deliberate.

Akiko followed, ears flicking back in thought.

"So," she said, voice light but probing, "a resort moon. Doesn't exactly sound like our usual kind of hideout."

"It's not," Kara replied curtly, spinning around a corner with a flick of her wrist. "But Tarek's not wrong. We can't afford to stay here, and Haven won't track us to Callistra. It's off their patrol grid. Rich types don't take well to scrutiny."

Akiko's eyes narrowed slightly. "Still feels... indulgent. We're supposed to be laying low, not soaking in hot springs."

Kara halted with a sharp grip on the next rail. She turned to face her.

"This isn't a vacation," she said, voice quiet but edged. "It's survival. The crew needs time to breathe. After the station, Ashara, the dragon, and you nearly dying out in the void, we're worn thin. If we don't take a break, we snap."

Akiko hovered midair, arms half-folded.

Kara's expression softened, just a touch. "Look, I get it. You don't fit the mold. This crew isn't like your old groups. We don't thrive on chaos. We survive by trusting each other. Planning. Not charging off with a sword and a hope."

Akiko stayed silent. Her tail drifted behind her like a ribbon in low gravity.

After a long pause, she finally murmured, "It's not about wanting chaos. I just... I need to be doing something. Sitting still feels like drowning."

Kara reached out, laid a hand on her shoulder. "Then use the quiet. Figure it out. You've been helping Tanya and Lila. Good. Keep at it. But if we're going to survive what's coming, everyone on this ship needs to know exactly where they stand."

Akiko nodded slowly. She would make this work. Somehow. It wasn't like her old world, but it was something.

"Alright," she said. "I'll try."

"Good." Kara pushed forward. "Now let's get back. Callistra's waiting."

They floated through the airlock and into the Driftknight. The ship's systems hummed around them. They felt warm, familiar.

Down the corridor, Lila hunched over her workstation, surrounded by half-dismantled gear and a clutter of datapads.

"You're back," she muttered without looking up. "Please tell me you've got good news to balance out my bad."

Kara stopped beside her. "What's wrong?"

Lila spun in her chair, eyes tight. "No one's returning my calls. All our usual buyers? Silent. Channels dead or bouncing. It's like we've been blacklisted."

Kara dragged a hand through her hair. Muttered a sharp curse. "Blacklisted?"

Lila nodded. "Haven's pressure is spreading. Quietly. Word is out. Dealing with us isn't worth the risk."

Akiko leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "That's... not ideal."

"No kidding," Lila snapped. "We're sitting on a mountain of magic-infused salvage with no way to move it. If it leaks, we'll be swarmed by scavengers and bounty hunters."

Kara's jaw tightened. She closed her eyes for a moment. Calculating.

When she opened them, her voice was flat but resolved. "Then we go to the ones who don't care what Haven thinks. Serynth's black market won't ask questions about where the haul is coming from."

Lila blinked. "Serynth?"

Akiko's ears twitched. Her tail flicked behind her.

Serynth.

A place that sounded more like home than anything she'd heard since arriving in this universe. More like her. Wild. Unstable. Dangerous not because it was foolish, but because it thrived on chaos.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Exactly the kind of place Kara had warned her not to be.

Akiko swallowed. "Isn't that a little... reckless?"

Kara's stare was ice. "Dangerous isn't the same as reckless. This is calculated. We don't have a better option."

Akiko dipped her head slightly. "Fair point."

Lila sighed, already keying into her system. "I'll start reaching out. But it's going to be messy."

"It always is," Kara said. "Quinn's prepping for Callistra. Get strapped in."

Lila's brow arched. "Callistra? We're really hiding out at a luxury resort?"

"Not hiding. Laying low," Kara corrected. "Far enough from Haven's eye, and tourists don't tend to report anomalies as more than a curiosity to gawk at."

Lila muttered under her breath, but nodded. "Alright. But if the drinks cost more than our cargo's worth, I'm blaming you."

Kara smirked faintly. "Tarek's paying. Just don't give him a reason to regret it."

The hum of the ship's fusion drive deepened as Akiko floated behind Kara through the corridors. Quinn was already at the pilot's station when Akiko pulled herself through the hatch onto the bridge.

"Quinn," Kara called, her voice all business. "ETA to Callistra?"

The pilot spun in his chair, fingers dancing across the console. "Callistra? Love that. Sixteen hours with optimal burns. We'll be sipping overpriced cocktails by dawn."

Kara snorted. "Just get us there."

Akiko drifted toward the viewport.

Beyond it, the faint glow of Erythraea cast long shadows across the ship's nose. She watched as the Driftknight pulled away from the Yard. The thrum of the drive grew steadier, heartbeat and engine.

"Sixteen hours isn't long," she said quietly.

Kara braced beside her, arms folded. "Long enough to catch our breath."

Akiko didn't answer right away. Her eyes stayed fixed on the stars.

Callistra was a resort moon. Peaceful. Luxurious. Frivolous, maybe. But it was also the only thing standing between them and Haven's grip.

The hum of the engines was a steady, lulling presence beneath Akiko's fingertips as she moved through the corridor toward the sleeping quarters.

Crew voices murmured faintly through the bulkheads.

As she rounded the corner, her eyes caught movement ahead. Raya sat near the galley entrance, a soft-glow tablet in her hands. The dim blue light cast quiet shadows across her face.

She looked tired. Not in the way exhaustion draped itself over someone, but in the way someone held themselves still when they wanted to be doing anything else.

She hadn't noticed Akiko yet.

Akiko hovered there a heartbeat too long.

Kara's words echoed in her ears. And the unspoken undercurrent. Dangerous. Wild.

She could've said something. A casual remark. A shared joke. Anything. But… it was better to not engage. Better to not cause more problems.

Instead, she gripped the handrail tighter. Pivoted. Tapped the handrail and floated past in silence. The moment sealed behind her like an airlock door.

Her alcove was as compact and utilitarian as the rest, just wide enough to lie down in, just private enough to feel alone.

She pulled herself inside and sealed the curtain. Secured herself to the bunk without thinking about it, the motion routine. The ambient light dimmed, wrapping her in a soft hush. For a moment, she lay flat, arms crossed behind her head, eyes on the curved ceiling.

Downtime.

She should've felt grateful. Instead, she felt... restless. It wasn't because of the ship. Not even the silence. Something closer. Warmer.

She turned onto her side. Tried to close her eyes. Slowed her breathing. Counted imaginary stars. None of it helped. After what felt like an eternity, she groaned and pushed upright.

"This isn't working," she muttered.

She needed focus. Purpose. Something to shape the churn in her chest into forward motion.

With a thought, she dropped into her inner space. Her sanctuary unfolded around her, starlit void filled with blue-white diagnostic panels. The air shimmered with familiar pulses. Her mana core hovered nearby, glowing with warm, rhythmic light.

A flicker of white emerged beside her. The fox avatar coalesced. Small, alert, synthetic calm.

"You're restless," Takuto said.

"You think?" Akiko folded her arms, gaze narrowed. "I don't do well with sitting still."

The fox tilted his head. "Then why attempt to sleep?"

"Because that's what normal people do." Her voice was flat. "But I'm starting to think I'm not normal."

"Correct," Takuto replied.

Akiko gave him a look. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, but no smile formed.

She stepped toward the mana core, trailing fingers through its radiant field. The energy thrummed beneath her touch. Responsive. Alive.

"Kaede would be proud of me," she murmured. "For trying to improve. But if she were here, she'd also say I'm too reckless."

"Accurate."

She snorted softly and didn't argue.

Her mind flashed back to the gravitational magic, and the instincts associated with it. Gone now, ruined when she had torn free of its influence. For the best. She couldn't afford to lose herself to something like that. She had fought too hard to be herself to give it all away.

The fox watched in silence, his posture perfectly still.

Akiko let her thoughts slow. Let the ache in her chest settle just enough to let her think clearly. The stillness here helped. No consequences. No crew. No expectations. Just her and the pressure to be better.

Her eyes tracked the glow of the mana core. Each pulse felt like a heartbeat that mirrored her own.

"I need to improve," she said, the words soft but certain.

"Clarify."

Akiko turned, slow and deliberate.

"On the Driftknight," she said, "I'm the wildcard. The one that doesn't fit in a lineup. And let's be honest, half the time, I'm the reason things go sideways. If I'm going to draw fire, I need to be able to take it."

She paused.

"Because if I go down... the crew does too."

"Acknowledged."

She nodded once. "The shield I use, around my head, for oxygen containment, it works. I survive the void on that alone. There's no reason I can't expand it."

There was a difference, though. Holding a thin shimmer of light was easy, and her suit helped manage that for her.

She'd done it back on the Sovereign, just enough to impress the crew. And when she'd had the nearly limitless reserves of the entity's mana battery, it had been trivial.

Now? She was limited to what her fire-aspected mana core could provide.

Shielding took more than energy. It took precision. And it wasn't affinity-compatible, so her core resisted it, the same way flame resisted becoming stone.

The light shield she used for breath containment was barely a wisp. But making something dense enough to stop a railgun slug? That was another matter entirely.

"I can't rely on the suit forever," she murmured. "I need something more."

"Spellform category Harmonic Barrier exhibits high incompatibility with core element," the fox said. "Efficiency penalty: 320% baseline. External affinity infusion required for sustained scaling."

Akiko winced. "I figured it wasn't fire-friendly."

"Incorrect descriptor. Your core actively resists harmonic structuring. Stabilization requires internal override and forceful reshaping of pathway geometry."

She stared at him. "In simpler terms?"

"Your mana wants to burn. Not resonate."

Akiko ran a hand through her hair. "So I need to convince it to hum instead of explode."

"Correct. And maintain containment during high-output operation. Risk of destabilization: high."

Akiko rolled her eyes. "What part of my existence isn't high-risk?"

The fox blinked slowly. "Probability of failure: high."

"And the probability of success?" she countered.

The fox paused.

"Marginally non-zero."

Akiko smirked. "Good enough."

The fox said nothing more. Its form shimmered faintly in the reflection of the core's glow, waiting.

Akiko stared into the pulsing light. Thought of breath held too long. Of explosions contained just long enough to shape something useful. If she was going to make this work, she couldn't brute-force it. Not with fire that didn't want to bend.

She drew in a breath. Let it settle deep in her gut, where instinct and fear and focus coiled together. Then she stepped forward.

"We'll start with control exercises," she said softly. "Start the training."

"Confirmed."

Mana answered. Threads unspooled from her core, careful and deliberate. A shield began to coalesce. Shimmering, fractured, already pulsing out of rhythm.

She grimaced and adjusted her breathing, trying to stabilize it.

The shield collapsed.

"Damn it," she muttered, drawing in a sharper breath. "Okay. Again."

She tried three more times. Each iteration fared worse than the last.

"Your precision is insufficient," Takuto observed. "You are distracted."

Akiko didn't answer. She knew exactly what had distracted her, what hallway she'd passed, what figure had sat in the galley, datapad in hand, pretending not to glance up when Akiko passed. She should've gone in. Should've said something. But she hadn't.

Because the ache, the one beneath her ribs, was growing. And the closer she got to Raya, the more it threatened to split her open.

"I'm not getting anywhere with this," she said aloud, shaking the tension from her hands.

"Solution: delegate control."

She frowned. "Come again?"

"Precision is a computational task. Delegating the maintenance of the shield's structure to my processes will ensure stability."

Her tail twitched. "You want me to hand over control."

Her arms tightened across her chest. She'd done this once before. But not like this. Not when he had a voice.

Back on the station, Takuto had been raw potential, still forming. A spark echoing her own thoughts. When she surrendered then, it hadn't felt like giving something up, it had felt like being lifted. Like a safety net appearing mid-fall.

But now… Now he wasn't just scaffolding. He had shape. Preferences. A mind of his own. Letting him in meant letting something other rearrange the flow of her magic from the inside.

"It is efficient."

"Yeah, well, so is a guillotine."

This wasn't the chaos of battle. There was no bloodrush to blur the boundaries between her and not-her.

This time, she had to choose.

Akiko swallowed hard, forcing her arms to uncross.

"Fine," she rasped, barely above a whisper. "Let's try it."

Takuto stepped closer. "Permission to assume control of shield projection?"

She nodded.

The first attempt hit her like static across every nerve. The moment he took over, the patterns he shaped felt wrong. Foreign in a way that clawed down her spine.

The mana twisted violently. The shield flashed bright white and then shattered.

"Stop!" she gasped, yanking herself back. Her hands were shaking. "I can't… I can't do it like that. It's too... wrong."

The fox stared, unblinking. "Adjustment required. Permission to recalibrate?"

She hesitated.

"Fine," she whispered. "But this is your last chance."

The second attempt went better. Barely.

This time, Takuto limited his role to the outer lattice, stabilizing the perimeter while letting Akiko shape the core geometry herself. It held for a breath longer before collapsing, just at the seam where her instinct clashed with his surgical precision.

Akiko groaned and let the shield drop, flopping onto her back. "This isn't working."

"Progress logged," he said. "Stability improved by 5.7%."

She threw an arm across her eyes. "Fantastic. At this rate, I'll have it down by the time I'm old and gray."

The third attempt brought a breakthrough.

Akiko closed her eyes. This time, she didn't fight his input, but she didn't yield to it either. She let his threads weave through hers, buffered against the recoil by his affinity-neutral resonance. Where her fire mana bucked against harmonic forms, Takuto's neutral shaping softened the impact.

She matched his clean logic with something messier. Human. Hers.

The shield stabilized. Fragile at first, then firmer.

When she opened her eyes, the dome shimmered around her, translucent and whole.

"Hey," she murmured, surprise softening her voice. "That might actually work."

"Stability improved by 23%. Efficiency increased by 12%."

Akiko flicked the shield away and exhaled. "Still weird. Still uncomfortable. But... better."

The following attempts came easier.

She and Takuto found a rhythm. His presence stopped grating. Became a steady current instead of a rogue tide. She stopped flinching at his corrections. He stopped trying to overwrite her instincts.

The shields grew smoother. Their light, more consistent. Her frustration dulled into focus. Into trust.

By the end of the session, she stood within a fully formed barrier. Cracks still flickered if she let her mind wander, but it held. It felt like hers.

She let it dissolve with a breath and turned toward the fox.

"Alright, little one. I think we're getting somewhere."

Takuto tilted his head. "Incremental progress logged. Probability of future success: high."

Akiko smiled faintly, brushing her hands together. "Don't get cocky. We've still got a long way to go."

Notice: Skill Layer Recalibration Complete

Retroactive progression data integrated. Recent gains may reflect cumulative backlog.

Subskill Acquisition (Mana Manipulation): Affinity Dissonance Compensation – 60.3% milestone achieved.

Subskill Acquisition (Cognitive Systems Interface): Autonomous Co-Processing Sync – 20.5% milestone achieved.

The fox dissolved into light. The training space began to fade, the soft hum of simulated mana pulling back into the quiet of her core.

She resurfaced slowly, one breath at a time, as the weight of her real body returned.

The hum of the Driftknight met her like a lullaby out of sync. Familiar, but distant. She was still lying on her side in her alcove, arms curled close, the fabric of the blanket clinging to her skin.

The ache behind her eyes had dulled. The restlessness in her limbs had not. But the tension, the sharp, jagged kind, had loosened. She could sleep now, maybe. If only for a little while.

She let her eyes close. Sleep took her in layers. First her body, then breath. But her mind refused to follow.

The dream came soft at first. A corridor, dim with half-lit panels. A distant vibration in the floor, like footsteps never arriving. The scent of ozone and cinnamon.

She turned a corner and saw a door left open.

Raya's voice drifted through it. No words, just laughter. Familiar. Inviting.

Akiko reached for the frame. But when her hand touched the metal, it pulsed hot against her skin, and the dream twisted.

The door slammed shut.

And the ache beneath her ribs, sharp and wordless, remained.

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