After leaving the field, Jin Minhe and I headed toward the shower roads—long glass walkways that split off toward the locker domes. The air smelled faintly of ozone and sweat. The silence between us wasn't awkward—it was mutual. The fight had spoken plenty.
We washed up quickly. I changed into my spare uniform, dragged a hand through my damp hair, and waited outside under the curved steel shade of a walkway beam. The city's hum filtered through the air like a distant memory.
A minute later, Jin Minhe emerged, looking… semi-presentable. His clothes were fresh, but the shirt was crooked, collar slightly off-center. His shoes were even worse—one lace untied and dragging, the other shoved halfway inside the shoe like it lost the will to live.
I raised a brow. "You planning to trip into the afterlife?"
He looked down, blinked at the mess on his feet, then shrugged. "They haven't fallen off yet."
I sighed and waved him over. "Bring those disaster zones here."
Without much fuss, he stepped closer.
I crouched in front of him, grabbing the nearest foot and tugging the shoe straight. "I'm not letting you fall off a sky whale into a dumpling stand because you couldn't tie your laces."
He didn't argue. Just stood still while I looped the laces into neat, firm knots—one shoe, then the other.
Then I noticed the shirt again. The collar still askew. The bottom hem twisted. I shook my head with a quiet exhale and began straightening his uniform—tugging the fabric into place, smoothing the creases, fixing the collar.
He blinked at me. "You don't have to—"
"I know." I brushed a bit of lint off his shoulder. "But if I don't do it, you'll walk around looking like a war orphan who rolled out of a broom closet."
He was quiet, but didn't stop me. Just stood there, letting me fix things.
His pants cuffs were frayed. The hem of his sleeve had an ink stain. But his posture didn't beg for attention or pity. It was the kind of quiet that came from doing things alone for too long.
When I finished, I gave one shoe a tap. "There. Stability unlocked."
Then, without thinking, I reached up and patted his head.
He stiffened slightly. Not in fear—just surprise.
I pinched his cheek lightly. "You're a mess."
That drew the faintest flicker of emotion across his face. Confusion? Curiosity?
He reminded me of the kids at the orphanage—the younger ones, the ones I used to herd every morning like stubborn geese. "Get dressed!" I'd yell. They'd show up with inside-out shirts and shoes on the wrong feet, proud as ever.
They tried their best. It was always a little crooked. Always endearing.
Jin was like that right now. A quiet kind of crooked.
I looked at him with soft amusement. "Now you look like a proper student. Not a runaway goblin."
He just… stared at me.
Not the way he normally did—calculating, careful, distant.
But like he was remembering something layered beneath my face.
"…Sister?" he whispered.
It was soft. Dazed. Like a memory slipping through time.
My heart paused.
I didn't breathe.
He wasn't looking at me—he was looking through me. Through years. Through loss.
I blinked slowly, keeping my voice gentle. "Jin?"
He shook his head once. Blinked again.
"…Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing. Not even close.
Still, I let it go.
I straightened and dusted my hands. "Come on. Let's go meet the whale before she gets impatient and floats off without us."
We walked together down the path toward the front gates. The city's buzz was louder here—hover carts whirring past, chatter rising in waves.
Then he saw her.
Mystic.
Floating just beyond the main campus gate like a living stormfront wrapped in sunlight. Her body shimmered like polished pearl and charged mist, massive and ethereal, coils of soft golden cloud spilling from her sides like wings.
Jin Minhe stopped mid-step. His mouth opened slightly.
"…That's yours?"
"Yep." I smiled, stepping forward. "That's Mystic."
She caught sight of me and moved instantly, gliding closer. She let out a soft, thrumming whale-call, the sound humming through the air like wind brushing over the surface of water.
I stepped into her path and let her lean down, her massive head brushing gently against me. I pressed my hand to her side, leaning in.
"I'm okay," I whispered, rubbing the space just beneath her eye. "Really. Nothing broken."
Mystic let out a deep, disbelieving puff of cloud. I coughed through the mist.
"I swear," I laughed. "I can take a hit."
She seemed to believe me—or at least let it go for now. With a soft shimmer, she sent out a long band of cloud beneath us, forming wide steps that curved gracefully to her back.
"For you too," I told Jin, gesturing. "No flying leap required."
We climbed the stairs. Jin moved cautiously, eyes flicking from the swirling mist to Mystic's back. Once we both sat down, Mystic launched gently, rising into the sky with slow, steady speed.
From above, the campus looked small—like it was stitched into the landscape.
We glided east, toward the open market near the edge of the campus district.
I leaned back against Mystic's warm body and closed my eyes. The air was cool. My ribs still ached faintly from the spar. But the sky, the wind, the quiet hum of flight—it made everything feel lighter.
"Don't fall asleep," I muttered without opening my eyes. "We're landing soon."
"Wasn't planning to," Jin murmured.
We reached the edge of the market, and Mystic hovered low over an empty plaza. I glanced down—tight corners, low roofs, vendor stalls everywhere.
"Alright, Mystic. Drop us here."
Before she could land and risk knocking over half the neighborhood, we both jumped off her back, landing with a light thud on the smooth stone tiles.
Mystic rumbled in protest behind us, curling above like a lazy dragon cloud.
I turned to Jin. "Just a warning—I'm not covering the bill if she has a growth spurt mid-landing and crushes someone's bao cart. You're faster than me. You distract the reporters, I run."
He blinked. "You'd leave me behind?"
"Of course not." I grinned. "I'd circle back after twenty minutes. Maybe."
He gave a small, nearly invisible snort.
We stepped into the market side by side—two students, a sky whale trailing overhead, and an entire city of flavors waiting to be picked apart.