Akiko moved with quiet steps through the boarding line, hood drawn low over her face. The civilian transport loomed ahead. Small, patched, and unimpressed with itself. A welded-together promise of motion.

The gangway's metal walls closed in around them, narrow and battered by years of elbows, crates, and the bored indifference of transit. Voices murmured low. A clink of metal. The scent of engine grease and old air.

She adjusted her hood, tugging it deeper over her face. Her ears twitched beneath the fabric, agitated. She had released her human guise once the strain became too irritating. Not worth the mana or the frustration. Her tail curled around her underneath the jacket.

If Kara noticed, she hadn't said a word.

Probably saving it for later, Akiko thought, pulse ticking a little faster.

The main cabin was tighter than she'd expected. Rows of crash seats hugged the walls, bolted into raw metal plating. No frills, just harnesses and scuffed flooring. Overhead, conduit and exposed wiring traced tangled paths like veins.

No illusion of comfort here. Just function.

Akiko paused in the doorway. The air tasted metallic, sterile at the edges. A handful of passengers already sat, hunched and unremarkable, their gazes quick to slide past her. Just another shadow in a crowd of people trying not to be noticed.

Kara nudged her shoulder. "Keep moving. You're making us stand out."

Akiko dipped her head and followed, slipping into one of the rear seats. The harness clicked into place across her chest. Cold metal against her back. The seat didn't yield, and neither did her spine.

"Please remain seated and secure your harnesses. Departure in T-minus two minutes."

The voice was too calm. Too smooth. Like everything would be fine, as long as you didn't look too closely.

The lights dimmed. Engines rumbled to life, low and steady, like something breathing in its sleep. The vibration passed through the soles of her boots.

Akiko exhaled slowly, willing her body to settle. Closed her eyes. Let the noise recede. Kara beside her was a quiet weight, already flicking through her processor.

Outside the small window, Callistra shrank. Resort towers and volcanic ridges fading beneath the clouds. The engine pitch deepened. The ship tilted. Her stomach dropped.

Across the aisle, a family sat huddled together. Two adults slouched with the posture of exhaustion, their child perched between them like a candle that hadn't learned to flicker. Wide eyes. Barely six.

Akiko caught the girl's stare too late. The child tilted her head, curious. Like she was looking through the hood. At what twitched beneath it.

Akiko went still. Her ears flattened instinctively.

The girl brightened. "Mama! Mama, look! I think she has—"

Akiko coughed. Loud. Abrupt.

The mother startled, hand on the girl's shoulder. "Sit properly, Mila."

"But Mama—"

"Mila." The father's voice was flat.

The girl sagged back into her seat, pouting. But her gaze didn't leave Akiko. Still watching. Still wondering.

Akiko pulled her hood lower, heat prickling at the base of her neck.

Kara's voice was dry and low: "Smooth."

"I didn't do anything," Akiko muttered.

"Exactly the issue." Kara leaned closer. "She's going to keep staring if you keep being interesting. Hood up. Head down. Stop twitching."

Akiko crossed her arms, slouched deeper. She could still feel Mila's eyes on her.

Great. A pint-sized bloodhound.

For a while, Akiko tried to pretend the girl wasn't watching her. She focused on the hum of the engines, the faint tremble beneath her boots, the quiet mechanical rhythm of transit. She thought she'd made it through.

"Are you an adventurer?"

The voice was small but clear. Mila leaned as far forward as the harness allowed, eyes round and eager.

Akiko blinked. "Uh… what?"

Adventurer?

What was this, some little interdimensional gremlin sent to torment her? Or a fae in a glamour, dangling impossible memories just to watch her squirm?

"You look like one," Mila said. "Like in the stories Papa tells me. Do you fight bad guys? Do you have cool powers?"

"Mila!" Her mother twisted in her seat. "That's enough."

"But Mama, she does! I can tell!"

Akiko pressed her lips into a tight line. She flicked a look toward Kara, who didn't even glance up. Her attention was locked on her processor, face carved from indifference.

Of course.

"Kid," Akiko said, keeping her voice low, "you should listen to your parents. It's not polite to stare."

Mila's shoulders drooped. She mumbled, "Okay," and sank back into her seat. The curiosity didn't leave her eyes.

Silence returned, thin and brittle.

Akiko let out a breath and leaned her head against the cold wall behind her. She could still feel the child's gaze, lingering like a question she didn't know how to answer.

She curled her hands beneath her arms, shoulders drawn in. She wasn't built for that kind of warmth.

"Adventurer, huh?" Kara said, still not looking up. A faint smirk ghosted across her lips. "Guess the kid's not wrong."

Akiko let out a slow breath. You too? Has everyone on this damned ship been body-snatched by changelings?

Kara's smirk twitched wider. "What, you think we don't have stories here? Heroes slaying dragons, running off to find treasure, saving damsels? Not real, obviously. But makes for good reading."

"Right," Akiko said, voice thin. "Of course you do."

It wasn't the same when someone else said it. When she called them dungeons, parties, heroes, it was a joke. A shield. A part of the world she had come from. But hearing it back felt like standing naked in front of a mirror she hadn't agreed to look into.

The cabin settled into a quiet rhythm. Engine hum, muffled conversation, the occasional rustle of boots or harness straps. Akiko had just begun to loosen her grip on herself when the intercom crackled.

"Attention, passengers," came a clipped voice. "This vessel is subject to a routine inspection by Haven Security. Please remain seated and provide identification when prompted."

Everything inside her went still. Her hood suddenly felt paper-thin. Her heartbeat, far too loud.

"Routine inspection, my ass," she muttered.

Kara's head snapped toward her. Jaw tight. Eyes sharp. "Get up."

"What? Where?"

"Anywhere but here." Kara's hand was already on her arm, fingers firm. "Now."

They moved fast, weaving down the aisle as heads turned. Casual glances, no recognition yet. Not yet. Kara led her to the back of the cabin, toward a sealed hatch marked Authorized Personnel Only.

One glance around. Kara hit the panel. The hatch hissed open, revealing a crawl of pipes and dim light, the scent of lubricant and old circuits in the air.

"In." Kara gestured toward a narrow alcove wedged between two storage lockers. "Stay put."

Akiko hesitated. "What about you?"

"I'll stall them." Kara's voice was already fading as she stepped out. "Don't get caught."

The hatch sealed behind her.

Akiko exhaled, shaky with nerves. Wedged herself into the alcove. Metal at her back, metal at her knees. The space pressed close, dim and humming, her nerves too loud in the quiet.

Footsteps. Soft. Not boots.

Akiko stiffened, ears twitching.

A small face peeked around the corner.

"I knew you were an adventurer," Mila whispered, eyes wide with triumph.

Before Akiko could speak, the girl slipped into the alcove beside her, fitting easily into the narrow space. Like this was part of a story. Like hiding from armed patrols was play.

"What's going on?" Mila asked. "Is this your secret base? Are you on a mission?"

Akiko stared at her. Just stared.

"Kid," she hissed, voice low and urgent, "what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in your seat."

"I wanted to see what you were up to," Mila said, utterly unrepentant. "Is this about the bad guys?"

"Yes," Akiko said through her teeth. "So unless you want to meet them face-to-face, go back."

"But I wanna help!"

Akiko closed her eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled.

This would never happen to Raya. Raya would have said something clever, something warm, and the kid would have giggled and gone back to her parents. Instead…

"This isn't a game," Akiko said, voice rough. "If they find me, it doesn't end with time-out. It ends bad. For both of us."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Beyond the hatch, the sound of boots on metal. A sharp voice barked, "Identification. Hold it up. No sudden movements."

Akiko froze. Every nerve taut.

Mila shrank, the bravado draining from her face. "Are they… the bad guys?"

Akiko didn't look at her. "Yeah," she said quietly. "And if they find us… it's game over."

The inspection dragged on, every second stretching thin with tension.

When the hatch hissed open, Akiko's heart jumped straight to her throat. She pressed herself deeper into the shadows, hand tightening near her chest, fingers brushing the quiet hum of mana.

She had enough for a distraction. Maybe. If it came to that.

Beside her, Mila stayed miraculously silent, her wide eyes fixed on the flickering beam of a flashlight sweeping the corridor. One of the guards lingered. Paused.

"Clear," the voice said. Then the hatch sealed again.

Akiko let her breath out in a slow, careful stream.

"That was so cool," Mila whispered, glowing with admiration.

Akiko shot her a glare. It softened before it landed. "Next time, stay in your seat."

The light above flickered. Long shadows stretched across the piping, twitching like nerves.

Akiko leaned back against the metal, arms tight around herself. Her ears twitched under the hood. Listening. Bracing.

Her breathing was calm. Too calm. A remnant of the rogue from a different world. The one who could disappear into fog and tree-line, who knew how to vanish when things turned ugly. But this wasn't that world.

Her fingers tapped a restless rhythm on her sleeve. She stared at the metal across from her, the tight angles, the confined air.

This should be easy. Hide, wait, slip away. She'd done this before. But the lie rang hollow. There were no forests here. No winding streets or smoke-drenched taverns to vanish into. No alleyways that led somewhere else. Just walls. Bulkheads. Connected systems. Surveillance.

Even if she knocked them out, where would she go?

Her chest tightened. She wasn't hiding in a world built for shadows anymore. She was trapped in a machine that remembered everything.

No forgetting. No slipping through cracks. Just digital ghosts. Permanent, traceable.

Her tail twitched. Reflex. She scowled and clamped it still beneath her jacket.

No tail. No ears. Human. Blend. Disappear.

But the hood didn't help. The press of it against her scalp only made the shape of her differentness more obvious. She didn't belong in this world. Not really. Not in the way that counted.

She rubbed her face. The truth gnawed at her, bitter and uninvited.

She'd never been good at hiding. Not truly. She was the spark that drew the guards. The strange scent in the wind that made the hounds lift their heads.

And here she was again. Crouched in the dark. Cursed to be noticed.

Footsteps echoed past the hatch.

She went still, every muscle coiled. The spiral of thought snapped shut, replaced by instinct.

Her mana shifted in a practiced ripple, locking the human guise back into place. Ears flattened, tail dissolved, presence dulled. Just another shadow in the corridor.

She was still a rogue. She just had to survive this moment. Just a little longer. Until Kara came back.

Akiko shifted in the narrow alcove, knees tight against her chest. The sealed hatch stayed silent, but the echo of boots lingered in her bones.

She tapped her fingers against her knee. An unconscious rhythm, restless and tight.

"Are you scared?"

The question broke softly through the dark.

Akiko blinked, looking down. Mila's wide eyes were steady, not accusing. Just… watching.

"What?" she said, sharper than she meant to.

Mila didn't flinch. Her expression softened, her head tilting just slightly. "You look scared. Like my mama does when the Haven people come."

Akiko's breath caught. She looked away. No answer came.

How was she supposed to explain it? That she wasn't just scared, she was cornered. One mistake away from wrecking everything. Again.

But Mila kept going. "Mama says it's okay to be scared. You just have to be brave anyway."

A dry laugh escaped Akiko, almost involuntary. "Your mom's got good advice."

"She's smart," Mila said proudly. "She tells me to hide, too. When the Haven people come."

Akiko's attention snapped back. "They come to your place?"

Mila nodded. "Looking for people. Mama says it's 'cause they're scared of people who are different." Her eyes flicked to Akiko's hood. Just briefly. "Like you."

Akiko flinched and yanked the fabric lower. "I don't know what you mean."

Mila smiled. Just a little. "It's okay. I won't tell. Mama says secrets are important when the Haven people come."

For a moment, Akiko could only stare. This girl, this tiny slip of a thing, sat beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like danger was routine. Like hiding in a corridor with a fugitive was normal.

"You're brave," Akiko said quietly.

Mila beamed. "That's 'cause I know it's gonna be okay. Mama always keeps us safe."

Something in Akiko eased at that, just a little. A thread of tension unwound from her chest.

"Thanks, kid," she said, voice low. "But I've gotta keep myself safe."

Mila tilted her head. "Do you have someone like my mama? Someone who keeps you safe?"

The question hit like a crack in armor.

Images flickered through her mind. Joran and Quinn pulling her from the rubble in Ashara, Raya's hand on hers in the dark, the Driftknight crew retrieving her from the void.

They'd saved her. More than once. But she'd brought the storm to their door, too.

"I've got people," Akiko said at last. "They've got my back."

Mila nodded, satisfied. "Then you'll be okay. Just like Mama says."

Akiko shook her head softly, a smile flickering at the edge of her mouth. "You're something else."

Voices stirred outside the hatch. Akiko's body tensed, breath caught halfway.

Mila noticed. Her hand reached out, small and steady, resting lightly against Akiko's arm.

"It's gonna be okay," she said again. "You'll see."

Akiko inhaled slowly.

Maybe. But first, she had to make it out of this tin can alive.

The hatch hissed open.

Akiko tensed, body coiling tight, until she saw Kara's silhouette framed in the light. Stern, sharp-eyed. Familiar.

Her gaze landed on Akiko, mouth parting to speak, then paused.

Mila peeked up at her, completely unfazed by the looming presence. She grinned, lifted her hands, and mimicked fox ears with her fingers.

"Look, I'm a fox too!"

Kara blinked. The sternness fractured. A low laugh escaped her, rare and rough-edged, as if it hadn't seen daylight in weeks. She pressed a hand to her face, shaking her head.

"Of course," she muttered. "Of course this would happen."

Akiko gave Mila a look. Half scold, half surrender. "You're going to get us both spaced, you know that?"

Kara waved her off, still amused. "Come on, little foxes. Let's get you back before someone actually starts asking questions."

Mila jumped up, grabbing Akiko's hand like they were just out for a stroll. "Told you it'd be okay!"

Akiko sighed, adjusting her hood. "You're a regular prophet."

Kara stepped aside, scanning the corridor. No boots. No voices. She gave a sharp nod.

"Haven's gone," she said, slipping back into business. "Didn't find anything worth staying for. We're clear."

"For now," Akiko muttered. Her ears itched beneath the hood. She glanced at Mila, still bouncing beside her, utterly unfazed by how close everything had come to breaking.

"What about her?"

Kara smirked. "She's your problem till we're strapped in."

Mila beamed, her fingers still curled around Akiko's. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

Akiko groaned quietly, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "Yeah. Sure. I'll hold you to that."

They made their way back to the cabin. The hum of the engines beneath their feet felt steadier now, less like a countdown and more like a rhythm. And as Mila chattered beside her, her voice rising like birdsong over fading tension, Akiko let herself breathe. Just for a little while.

Akiko sank into her seat with a sigh. The tension from the inspection had drained, but it left behind a dull ache in her shoulders. She rolled them slowly, a quiet groan slipping out.

Beside her, Kara settled in, arms crossed, eyes sweeping the cabin. No signs of lingering threat. No suspicious movement.

"You really know how to make things interesting," she muttered.

"I didn't invite her," Akiko said, nodding toward Mila, who was now peering intently out the viewport ahead of them, nose nearly pressed to the glass.

Kara raised an eyebrow. "She's pretty attached."

Akiko slumped lower. "Yeah, well. Kids are weird."

As if summoned, Mila turned and bounded back toward them. With absolute confidence, she clambered into Akiko's lap, her small hands grabbing the edge of her jacket like she belonged there.

"Uh—" Akiko looked to Kara.

Kara just smirked. "She's your problem, remember?"

Akiko sighed. Her hands hovered awkwardly at Mila's sides, unsure what to do with them.

Then Mila leaned back, tipping her head to meet Akiko's eyes. "Can I see your ears again?"

Akiko stiffened. Her eyes flicked around the cabin. Most passengers were dozing or chatting, heads turned elsewhere.

"Not here," she said, voice low.

Mila's face fell. Lip pushed out in a pout.

"Please?"

Akiko hesitated. The pout held. Hopeful. Soft.

She exhaled and tugged her hood lower. "Fine. Just this once. And you don't tell anyone."

Mila's eyes lit up.

Akiko checked the cabin one last time, then let her human guise slip. Her tail unfurled from beneath the jacket in a slow curl, jet-black and gleaming faintly in the low light. It arced around her hip like it remembered being free.

Mila's eyes went even wider. At first she reached toward Akiko's ears, then her gaze dropped, utterly enchanted by the tail's lazy movement.

She gasped, hands hovering before she finally dared to touch. Her fingers sank into the fur with awe.

"It's so soft," she whispered.

Akiko shifted, ears twitching under the hood. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get too excited. It's just a tail."

"It's not just a tail," Mila said. "It's a magic tail."

Kara snorted. "You're going to regret this," she murmured.

Akiko rolled her eyes but didn't pull away. Mila's fingers combed slowly through the fur, small and careful. And despite herself, Akiko felt a warmth spread beneath her ribs.

"Just don't pull on it," she said softly. "Or we're both going to have a bad time."

"I promise," Mila whispered, solemn as a knight.

Kara leaned back, her smirk easing into something quieter. The sharpness in her posture softened. Around them, the engine hum steadied. The tension eased like a long-held breath.

"Guess there's a first time for everything," Kara said under her breath.

Akiko glanced over. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You. Being good with kids." Kara's smirk returned, dry as ever. "It's almost... endearing."

Akiko snorted. "Don't get used to it."

Mila giggled, her hands still buried in the fur. Akiko didn't stop her. She let herself breathe. Just for a moment.

The danger had passed. And for now, that was enough.

Mila's fingers moved gently through the black fur of Akiko's tail, slow and reverent. Her soft giggles rose like birdsong, quiet and untroubled, echoing faintly in the wake of the earlier tension.

Akiko leaned back in her seat, hood drawn low, and let the moment hold.

Kara said nothing. Just kept watch, her gaze drifting over the cabin like a radar on standby.

Akiko sighed.

She looked down at the small form curled against her, at the trust in Mila's eyes and the delight in her movements. That unguarded joy tugged at something buried deep in her chest, something she didn't have a name for.

Curiosity. Innocence. Wonder. All so clean. So untouched by the wreckage Akiko carried behind her.

She glanced to the viewport, catching the faint reflection of her shadowed face. The hood. The faint flick of a tail. A silhouette caught between two worlds.

Her mind drifted.

Kaede had always been good with children. Akiko could still see it: her sister crouched beside a well, a ring of village kids hanging on every word as she spun stories from starlight. Magic, monsters, mischief, they adored her. She made them feel seen.

Elyas too. Calm, quiet. Gentle where Akiko was sharp.

She remembered the way he and Kaede would talk in low tones around the fire, dreaming of a future beyond adventure. A home. A family. Jokes about how many kids they'd have. Laughter curling into the night.

Akiko had never been part of those talks. Her world had always been the road. The next city. The next thrill. Stopping had felt like giving up. Roots were something you dodged, not grew.

But now...

Mila's fingers slid through her tail, rhythmic and careful. The hum of a tune under her breath. Like nothing could touch her here.

What would Kaede say, seeing this? Would she laugh? Tease her? Or would she just smile that soft, knowing smile Akiko remembered too well, and say I told you so?

A tightness pulled in her chest. That ache again. Half longing, half disbelief. Kaede would've loved this. Would've knelt down beside them. Would've said that children see the truth before the rest of us catch up.

Akiko looked down at Mila. At the trust. At the quiet joy. Was this what really mattered? Or was it just another fleeting moment, one more thread in a life made of fragments?

She didn't know.

But as Mila hummed and the engines droned steady beneath her feet, Akiko let the moment stay a little longer. Her eyes drifted closed. Time stretched, adrift, unmoored from the moment as Akiko let herself unfurl. Just for a little while.

Maybe there was something to this, after all.

A soft chime echoed through the cabin.

"Attention, passengers. We will be docking at Serynth shortly. Please ensure your belongings are secured and prepare for disembarkation."

Akiko stirred. Her eyes opened slowly, disoriented for a breath, expecting the sturdy thrum of the Driftknight, not this gentler sway.

Then she glanced down and stilled.

Mila was curled in her lap, small and quiet, her breath rising and falling in sync with the sleek black tail that had wrapped around her. Akiko blinked at the sight. Soft fur, steady rhythm, a fragile pocket of peace.

It tugged at her chest. Deep. Bittersweet.

Careful not to wake her, Akiko flexed her fingers and let the illusion draw inward. Her magic rippled, subtle and practiced. The tail shimmered and vanished. Her ears faded beneath the hood.

Mila stirred but didn't wake, her head settling against Akiko's arm.

Akiko brushed a loose lock of hair from the girl's face. A faint chuckle escaped her, barely more than breath.

"She really took to you," a voice said gently.

Akiko looked up. Mila's mother stood in the aisle, her smile worn but warm.

"Thank you," she said softly. "Mila can be… a lot. It's been nice to have a little quiet."

Akiko shrugged. "She's a good kid. Curious."

The woman chuckled. "That's one way to put it. But she doesn't open up like that often. You must have something special."

Akiko said nothing. Just offered a faint smile.

She shifted to rouse Mila, but the girl blinked awake on her own, rubbing at her eyes.

"Are we there?"

"Almost," Akiko said. "Time to go back to your mom."

Mila sat up reluctantly. She glanced at her mother, then looked back at Akiko.

"Thanks for letting me play with your tail," she whispered.

Akiko blinked. The words landed more deeply than she expected.

She nodded. "Anytime, kid."

Mila grinned and hopped down, taking her mother's hand as they moved down the aisle.

Akiko leaned back, hands on her knees. The hum of the engines deepened, preparation for docking. She closed her eyes for a moment. Just breathed.

For now, that was enough. But the moment passed.

Serynth was waiting. And nothing about it would be gentle.

She pulled her hood forward, eyes narrowing as the cabin lights flickered.

Showtime.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.