The next few days fell into a surprisingly comfortable routine, despite Haru's ongoing internal crisis about his mysteriously absent system. Wake up, pretend everything was normal, do commissions with Lumine, try not to accidentally level any landmarks during training, and repeat.
It was almost like being a normal person, if normal people could freeze entire valleys by sneezing too hard.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: ...]
Still nothing. Haru was starting to wonder if his mental companion had gone on vacation to somewhere with better Wi-Fi.
"Haru, you're brooding again," Lumine observed as they walked through Mondstadt's marketplace. "Your face is doing that thing where you look like you're contemplating the meaning of existence."
"I don't brood," Haru protested. "I contemplate. Dramatically. There's a difference."
"Paimon thinks they're the same thing, just with different amounts of hair-flipping involved," Paimon chimed in.
"I do not flip my hair."
"You literally just did it."
Haru paused, realizing he had indeed just run his hand through his hair in what could generously be called a dramatic gesture. "That was... wind adjustment."
"There's no wind."
"Indoor wind."
"That's not a thing."
"Everything's a thing if you believe hard enough."
Lumine laughed, and the sound made something warm settle in Haru's chest.
Even without the system's confidence boost, making her laugh felt like a genuine accomplishment.
"So," she said, "ready for today's commission?"
"Absolutely. What fresh hell has the Adventurer's Guild prepared for us?"
"Monster clearing again. Apparently there's been a surge in hilichurl activity near the eastern trade routes."
Haru frowned. "Another surge? That's the third one this week."
"Paimon noticed too! It's like the hilichurls are getting more organized or something. Usually they just sit around their camps roasting sweet flowers and having dance parties."
"Dance parties?"
"You've never seen a hilichurl dance party? They're actually pretty adorable. Lots of spinning and terrible rhythm."
The commission board outside the Adventurer's Guild was more crowded than usual, with several postings marked in red ink—the color reserved for urgent or dangerous missions.
"'Several adventurers overdue from eastern region patrols,'" Lumine read from one of the notices. "'Assume captured rather than killed. Rescue mission authorized for qualified parties only.'"
"That's ominous," Haru muttered.
"Ominous, but also exactly the kind of thing legendary heroes are supposed to handle," Katheryne said, appearing beside them with her usual uncanny timing. "Ad astra abyssosque, Haru. I trust you'll be taking on the rescue mission?"
"Well, I—"
"Excellent! I've already marked you down as team leader. The details are in your commission packet."
She handed him a thick folder that felt suspiciously heavy for what should have been a simple briefing.
"Why is this so thick?" Haru asked, weighing the packet in his hands.
"Oh, that includes the topographical maps, weather reports, known hilichurl behavioral patterns, tactical recommendations from the Knights of Favonius, and a complimentary emergency whistle."
"Emergency whistle?"
"It plays a jaunty tune while you're being eaten alive. For morale."
Haru stared at her. "That's... deeply disturbing."
"Ad astra abyssosque!" Katheryne chirped, then walked away as if she hadn't just casually mentioned being eaten alive.
"Paimon thinks Katheryne gets weirder every day," Paimon whispered.
"I think she's always been weird, we're just noticing it more," Lumine replied.
After reviewing the commission details—which were indeed as complicated as the packet's thickness suggested—they decided to start with some routine training. Haru's power control had improved dramatically over the past few days, partly thanks to his sparring sessions with Lumine and partly because he'd stopped trying to force his abilities into submission.
"It's like riding a bicycle," he'd explained to Lumine the day before. "Except the bicycle is made of elemental energy and occasionally tries to kill you."
"That's a terrible analogy."
"But accurate."
Today's training was taking place in the same secluded clearing where they'd been practicing all week. Haru had actually grown fond of the place, despite having accidentally created what appeared to be a small geological formation in one corner.
"I still can't believe you made a rock garden by accident," Lumine said, gesturing at the artfully arranged stones that had definitely not been there when they'd first arrived.
"I prefer to think of it as environmental improvement," Haru replied. "Very feng shui."
"That's not what feng shui means."
"It is now."
They were interrupted by Caesar's whinny—a sound that had become Haru's favorite part of training days. The magnificent horse had taken to their routine with enthusiasm, seeming to understand that training time meant quality bonding time.
"Hey, Caesar," Haru called, patting the horse's neck. "Ready for some exercise?"
Caesar nickered and nuzzled his shoulder, which Haru had learned meant "yes, but also I expect premium oats afterward."
"Actually," Lumine said, then paused, looking slightly nervous. "I was wondering... could I try riding him? I mean, if it's okay with both of you."
Haru blinked. In all their time together, Lumine had never asked to ride Caesar, though she'd clearly been fascinated by the horse since day one.
"Of course," he said, then looked at Caesar. "What do you think, buddy? Feel like carrying a passenger?"
Caesar turned his intelligent eyes toward Lumine and made a soft whuffling sound that seemed approving.
"I think that's a yes," Haru said, moving to help Lumine mount.
What followed was something that would be etched in Haru's memory forever.
Lumine needed help getting into the saddle—Caesar was tall, and she was unused to riding such a large horse. As Haru moved to assist her, his hands found her waist, steadying her as she prepared to mount. The contact sent an electric jolt through both of them.
"Here, let me..." Haru began, but his words died as she turned to face him, suddenly bringing them mere inches apart.
Her golden eyes met his red ones, and time seemed to crystallize around them. He could see the flutter of her eyelashes, catch the faint scent of windwheel asters in her hair, feel the warmth radiating from her skin beneath his hands.
"Haru," she whispered, her voice barely audible, and something in the way she said his name made his heart skip several beats.
They stood frozen like that, the world shrinking to just the space between them. Her hands came up to rest against his chest, and he could feel his pulse hammering against her palm.
"I..." Lumine started, then stopped, her cheeks flushing the softest shade of pink.
"We should..." Haru tried, but found he couldn't complete the thought. Should what? Step away? Stop looking into her eyes like they held all the answers to questions he didn't know he was asking?
The moment stretched between them, fragile and perfect and terrifying in its intensity. Then Caesar nickered softly, breaking the spell, and they both stepped back with identical expressions of flustered confusion.
"Right," Lumine said, her voice slightly breathless. "Riding. That's what we were doing."
"Riding," Haru agreed, though his hands lingered at her waist a moment longer than necessary as he helped her up.
Once she was seated, Haru found himself walking beside Caesar, acutely aware of every detail—the way Lumine's hair caught the dappled sunlight, how she unconsciously leaned toward him as they moved, the soft smile that played at the corners of her mouth.
"You're a natural," he said, watching her settle into Caesar's rhythm.
"He makes it easy," she replied, then added more quietly, "Thank you. For trusting me with something so important to you."
The simple sincerity in her voice made something warm unfurl in Haru's chest. "Thank you for... for being here. For all of this."
Their eyes met again, and this time neither looked away. There was something building between them, something that went beyond friendship or partnership or shared adventures. Something that made the air feel charged with possibility.
"Haru," she said softly, and the way his name sounded on her lips made him want to freeze this moment forever.
"Yeah?"
"When this is all over... when we're not constantly running from one crisis to the next... maybe we could..."
"Yeah," he said, understanding completely. "I'd like that."
The smile she gave him was radiant, and Haru felt like he could take on the world as long as she kept looking at him like that.
Of course, that's when everything went wrong.