The bright lights of the KIDZ+ studio beamed down like miniature suns, illuminating a shimmering stage bursting with color and energy. The crowd was a roar of cheers and laughter, voices rising above the music as chants echoed back and forth between two names:
"Mireille! Mireille!"
"Aurore! Aurore!"
At the center of it all stood Alec, grinning wide, clutching his microphone with practiced confidence. His voice cut through the commotion like a polished blade.
"Welcome, everyone, to the finals of our KIDZ+ competition!" Alec announced, raising his free hand theatrically. "Today, one lucky winner will be announced as our brand-new KIDZ+ weather girl!"
The camera panned to the two finalists standing on either side of him—Aurore Beauréal, who gave a cheerful little wave, and Mireille Caquet, who offered a bashful giggle and a soft smile that made the audience coo.
"We started off with over five thousand hopeful contestants," Alec continued, his tone rising with drama. "And now, thanks to you, our amazing audience at home, we've narrowed it down to these two incredible young ladies!"
He gestured toward them with flair.
"So who will it be? Who's your weather girl, Paris? Vote now! Text 1 for Aurore, or 2 for Mireille. And remember—standard text messaging rates apply!"
Meanwhile, in a much quieter (and increasingly chaotic) corner of the city—the Dupain-Cheng residence—things were a little less glamorous.
"Come on, Manon, give that back!" Marinette shouted, sprinting across the living room after a giggling Manon who had just snatched a half-finished fashion design from the coffee table.
"But I wanna be a fashion designer too!" Manon squealed, dodging behind a chair, still clutching the delicate sketch.
Marinette stumbled and collapsed dramatically onto the couch with a groan. "Please, it's not finished! You're gonna ruin it!"
Manon responded with mischievous laughter, darting behind the curtains as Marinette groaned and rubbed her temples.
"Where did she—" Marinette pushed the curtain aside—nothing. The little imp had vanished.
From somewhere behind her, Manon's voice chirped, "I'm gonna vote for Mireille, she's the best!"
Marinette spun around. "Hey! My phone!"
Too late. Manon had already snatched it and bolted—again—this time grabbing Marinette's hat as well on her way out.
"Ughhh!" Marinette groaned. "Why did I agree to do this again?"
A soft sparkle of red light flickered from her purse as Tikki emerged, hovering in the air like a firefly in a sugar rush.
"Stay low, Tikki!" Marinette hissed.
"Don't worry!" the kwami replied, crossing her tiny arms. "Honestly, if you can handle Manon for a day, then any villain from now on will feel like a walk in the park."
Before Marinette could respond, the doorbell rang.
"Tikki, hide!" she whispered quickly. Tikki zipped back into her bag just as Marinette opened the door.
Standing outside was Alya, eyes sparkling with excitement and holding her phone like it contained state secrets.
"Hey! I got a huge scoop for you," she said, barely containing herself. "Guess who's doing a photoshoot in the park?"
Marinette blinked. "…Now?"
Alya leaned in. "Adrien is in the park. Right now. As we speak."
"Oh gosh," Marinette gasped, heart skipping a beat. "What… what am I gonna say to him?!"
Alya grinned and mimicked her friend's usual flustered tone. "You know… 'I… uhhh… dahee… wha… ahh…'"
"Stop it!" Marinette shoved her shoulder lightly.
Manon suddenly popped her head out from behind the couch. "Uh, who's she?"
"Oh—uh…" Marinette froze, then laughed awkwardly. "I forgot about this little detail."
Alya raised an eyebrow. "And who's this?"
"This is Manon. One of my mom's friend's daughters. I'm watching her all afternoon."
Marinette's smile faltered as realization hit her.
"Oh no. I can't go out."
"Let me guess," Alya said with a knowing look. "Another one of your classic 'I couldn't say no' favors?"
Marinette's shoulders sagged. "…No. I just… couldn't… say… no…"
"Girl." Alya put her hands on her hips. "It's cool. I'll look after your little detail for you."
But before she could say more, Manon raced by, swinging a flower pot in one hand and a spatula in the other.
"Manon! Put that down! Ugh! Come back!" Marinette bolted after her.
Alya stepped aside to avoid the chaos. "You're just a pushover, Marinette."
She crossed her arms, watching as Marinette struggled. "I babysit my sisters all the time. Makes me an expert in dealing with 'angels.'"
Manon turned her head and narrowed her eyes. "Who are you, anyway?"
Alya smirked. "I'm a mythical unicorn from the world of Reespa, disguised as a totally fabulous human girl. I grant magical wishes… but only to little monkeys who behave!"
Manon giggled. "No, you're not! ...Are you?"
With a grin, Alya scooped her up and placed her on Marinette's shoulders. "Alright. That's it. Let's all go to the park!"
Marinette blinked. "Wait, what?!"
But Alya was already marching toward the door, humming as if she hadn't just suggested something impossible. Manon clung to Marinette's head, laughing. Marinette sighed.
Some days, superheroes wore masks.
Other days… they just babysat chaos in pigtails.
Back at the glittering KIDZ+ Studio, the energy was electric. The audience leaned forward in breathless anticipation. Alec stood center stage, beaming beneath the spotlight, flanked by the two finalists—Aurore Beauréal, elegant and poised, and Mireille Caquet, sweetly smiling with flushed cheeks.
Alec lifted the golden envelope and held it aloft with dramatic flair. "This... is the moment we've all been waiting for!" he proclaimed. "The viewers at home have made their decision, and the new KIDZ+ weather girl is…"
The screen behind him burst into light, revealing the tally. Mireille's name towered above in bold letters, her votes dwarfing Aurore's.
"…Mireille!" Alec shouted.
Aurore gasped, frozen in place as the studio erupted in deafening cheers and applause. Mireille covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide in disbelief, then turned and gave a small, gracious wave.
Alec turned to Aurore, chuckling. "Man, she crushed you, huh? Better luck next time!"
Aurore's face darkened. Her lips curled into a tight frown as she turned on her heel without a word.
"What's the big deal?" Alec called after her with a laugh. "You only lost by half a million votes!"
But Aurore didn't respond. She stormed offstage, her parasol gripped tightly in her hand, her shoulders rigid with humiliation.
Far away, deep within the cold shadows of Hawk Moth's lair, the ornate window creaked open, letting in the moonlight. The villain stood still, eyes closed, feeling the tremors of emotion ripple through the city.
"The vibrations are so strong," he whispered, voice low and sinister. "I can feel the surge of anger... the sadness... the crushing injustice. The perfect moment of weakness. Such easy prey."
He reached out, plucking a white butterfly from the air and coating it in an inky swirl of darkness. The creature transformed before his eyes—an akuma, dark and purposeful.
"Fly, my little akuma," Hawk Moth murmured, opening his hand. "And bring me a new villain."
The akuma fluttered through the night like a vengeful whisper.
Inside the tall KIDZ+ building, Aurore stepped into the elevator, her heels clicking sharply on the tile. The doors closed behind her, and the moment she was alone, her fury spilled forth.
"I should have won," she seethed, her reflection in the metal walls warped by her emotion. "I have the talent, the star quality, the looks! But she—she took everything. They took everything!"
The elevator lights suddenly flickered.
"Uh? What—?"
A sharp bzzt cracked above, and the power went out. Darkness swallowed the space. Aurore's breath hitched.
Then, a low fluttering sound. A glimmer in the dark.
The akuma.
"Get away!" she shouted, swinging her parasol blindly. "Ngh! Ah!"
But the creature zipped forward, spiraling into the parasol's handle. The black magic surged into the object—and into her.
The elevator lights snapped back on in a burst. But the woman standing within was no longer Aurore.
From the shadows of her mind, Hawk Moth's voice slithered in like smoke.
"So correct you are… You should have won," he whispered with velvet malice. "Yes..."
Her eyes gleamed with unnatural light.
"I should have won. Yes."
"I am Hawk Moth," he said. "I grant you the power to seek vengeance. To become my weather girl—Stormy Weather. Unleash your fury, and in return… bring me the Miraculous. Can you do that?"
A wicked grin crept across her lips. "Yes…"
"That's my weather girl. Now, show them all who the real star is."
The elevator doors slid open with a ding.
And out stepped Stormy Weather, cloaked in a tempest, eyes glowing with wrath.
The storm had arrived.
The Place des Vosges, Paris.
The sun spilled soft light over cobbled paths, tree-lined walkways, and the open greens where a photoshoot was in full swing. Near the edge of the square, Adrien Agreste posed effortlessly, his every movement captured by the flash of Vincent's camera and the soft encouragement of the stylists around him.
Behind a hedgerow, hidden but not very stealthily, Marinette crouched with Alya and a very distracted Manon beside her.
"Okay," Marinette whispered, breathing deep. "We're gonna stroll over there super casual, like we just happened to be walking by."
Alya raised a brow. "And then what?"
"Then?" Marinette's eyes sparkled with hopeful fire. "I'll invite him for a fruit smoothie after the shoot. Then we'll date, fall in love, get married—happily ever after in a beautiful Parisian home with two kids! Wait—three kids. And a dog. No, a hamster! I love hamsters. No cats, they knock stuff off the shelves."
Alya smirked. "Let's just focus on walking by without tripping, and maybe—maybe—getting to that smoothie."
Marinette giggled, her cheeks pink.
Just as they were about to step out from behind the hedge, a voice, soft but laced with curiosity, interrupted them.
"Umm... what are you doing?"
"AHHHH!" All three girls shrieked and jumped back, somehow loud enough to startle pigeons but not loud enough to attract Adrien's attention.
Once their hearts stopped racing, they turned toward the voice.
There stood a boy around their age, striking in a way that didn't demand attention—yet somehow seized it all the same. His black hair was half tied in a bun, with the rest falling to his neck in soft waves. But what truly froze them were his eyes—eyes like the night sky, dark yet impossibly vast, holding the shimmer of distant galaxies and quiet storms.
Alya blinked. "...Jinx?"
To both Marinette and Alya, Jinx had always been an enigma. For years, he was the soft-spoken, warm boy always at Adrien's side, kind and unassuming. But something shifted two years ago. He withdrew. Became a loner. Quiet, unreadable. He spoke only to Adrien, Nino, and his aunt—Nathalie Sancoeur—who had introduced him to Adrien in the first place.
Marinette stammered, suddenly self-conscious. "Oh, I—I was just walking by! Yep! Totally innocent walk."
Jinx said nothing. He simply stared at her with those impossible eyes, unreadable and solemn. Then his gaze drifted past her toward Adrien, who was adjusting his jacket and flashing a practiced smile for the camera. There was a flicker—some recognition in Jinx's expression.
And then, without a word, he turned and walked calmly behind a nearby tree.
By the time Marinette blinked again, he was gone.
Manon clung to Marinette's leg. "That guy was weird."
Alya crossed her arms. "Yeah… he's been like that for a couple years now."
Marinette chewed her lip, still watching the spot where he'd vanished. "I wonder what could've changed him. He used to be so... warm."
Before she could linger on it longer, a shout from the photoshoot brought her back to the moment.
"Magnifico! Super!" Vincent shouted, waving his camera dramatically. "Come on now, I want to see hunger in your eyes!"
Marinette gasped and grabbed Alya. "Okay, okay—remember! Cool. Just be cool."
"We couldn't be more invisible," Alya muttered as the two crouched and tiptoed closer.
"Let's start over. Casual," Marinette said with forced calm.
As if on cue, Adrien looked up.
And waved at them.
Marinette nearly fainted. "Did you see that? He waved at me!"
Alya nodded, unimpressed. "Yeah, I saw. Pretty normal since we're in the same class." She gently lowered Marinette's hand, which had shot up like a flagpole in giddy response.
Meanwhile, back at the KIDZ+ building, Mireille Caquet clutched her glittering trophy tightly, still reeling from her sudden rise to weather girl stardom. She stepped into the elevator, doors closing softly behind her.
As the elevator dinged and opened on the next floor, she stepped out into the hallway... and froze.
A sharp, cruel laugh echoed through the building.
Standing at the far end was a girl in a swirling storm of frost and violet light.
"I am Stormy Weather!" the villain cackled. "The only weather girl who always gets the forecast right!"
Her parasol whipped around with a flourish.
"And unfortunately for you... there's a freak icy front moving in right now!"
A blast of arctic energy surged from her parasol, aimed straight at Mireille.
The hallway shrieked with wind and freezing air.
"Somebody get me out of here!" Mireille screamed, backing away. "Help! Help!"
The Place des Vosges.
The air shimmered with sunlight, warm and golden as it filtered through the lush canopy overhead. In the center of the square, cameras clicked, assistants bustled, and Adrien Agreste held yet another perfect pose. Vincent, the passionate photographer, danced around him like a frenzied conductor orchestrating a masterpiece.
"Bravo! That's it! Give me the smile—yes, that smile! The one you flash when your mother brings in piping hot spaghetti!"
Adrien blinked, suppressing a laugh but smiling dutifully.
"Perfect! Now—oh no! Mama dropped the spaghetti!" Vincent dramatically mimed the bowl falling, his camera flashing the whole time. "Now you have to eat the spaghetti off the floor! Mon dieu! Give me disgust! Rage! Despair! You are angry, Adrien! Show me your inner storm!"
Adrien did his best impression of mild culinary horror, lips curled, one eyebrow raised. Vincent, ever the drama king, gasped and clutched his heart as he lowered the camera to review the shots.
And that's when he saw it.
Just at the edge of the last frame—graceful, poised, ethereal.
Vincent turned his head sharply, lowering his camera and blinking in disbelief.
There, perched effortlessly on the narrow tip of the central fountain's stonework, was Jinx.
He had shed his long trench coat and left it draped over the rim. Dressed now in a sleek black t-shirt that hugged his figure, he looked like a shadow brought to life—his body slim, movements fluid, balanced with impossible ease. His arms extended mid-pose, one leg tucked in a dancer's stance, and as the sun caught him from behind, a black crow glided down and landed gently on his outstretched finger.
The entire moment seemed frozen in time—light, symmetry, stillness. It was hauntingly beautiful.
Vincent gasped.
And then, he wept.
A single tear slid down his cheek. "C'est... c'est art. This... is divine!"
He dropped to one knee like a knight before a king and fumbled to bring his camera back up, already snapping dozens of photos.
"Mon ange du crépuscule! You're a living sculpture! Une ombre céleste! Please, do not move—no, wait, move! More poses! Anything! You're liquid poetry!"
Jinx, still balanced on the stone tip, blinked.
He slowly turned his head and looked at Adrien with quiet exasperation.
Adrien, watching from the shoot, gave a small shrug. He knew that look. Jinx didn't feel like it. He never did when he didn't plan for it.
Vincent, sensing the hesitation and terrified of losing the moment, turned desperately toward Adrien. "He's not going to stop, is he? He's going to walk off and rob the world of this miracle! No. No, I won't allow it!"
He pulled out his phone with dramatic urgency and dialed.
It rang twice.
Then a crisp voice answered. "Gabriel Agreste."
"Monsieur Agreste!" Vincent nearly shouted. "It's Vincent. I need your permission—no, your blessing! There is a celestial being in front of my lens. A boy. A vision. His name is Jinx."
There was a pause. Then, in a quieter voice, Gabriel replied, "You mean Nathalie's nephew."
"Yes, yes! That's the one! I'm sending you photos now."
Click. Send.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow as he examined the incoming images, his face betraying little—but even he was taken aback by what he saw. Jinx poised like a creature of myth, black feathers glinting, the crow perched as if summoned by fate.
He turned toward the quiet woman seated nearby. "Nathalie. Your nephew is currently being mistaken for the reincarnation of a fallen angel by a man with a camera. Thoughts?"
Nathalie glanced at the images. She didn't blink.
"He'll say no."
Gabriel raised his brows.
"But..." she added, reaching for her phone, "he will say yes for ice cream."
Gabriel nodded. "Efficient."
Nathalie called Jinx. Across the square, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He slipped it out and answered quietly.
"Yes?"
Nathalie's voice came through smoothly. "One photoshoot. Ice cream after."
A pause.
Then, very softly: "…two scoops?"
She smiled. "Three."
Jinx didn't answer. He simply hung up the call and, like silk in motion, flowed into another pose atop the fountain—this one with both arms open, the crow still calmly balanced on one hand. His body arched, backlit by sunlight, as his eyes turned ever so slightly toward the camera.
Vincent gasped again and resumed clicking furiously.
"YES! THAT'S IT! You are the moonlight, the storm, the final note of a tragic opera! Encore! Encore!"
Adrien chuckled softly from his position, shaking his head in amusement. "He'll do anything for ice cream."
Moments Later.
Marinette was mid-sentence when the hush fell over the square.
"…and then maybe I'll say something cool like, 'You wanna grab a fruit smoothie?' And he'll be like, 'Sure,' and—wait, what's going on?"
She paused, brows furrowed as her eyes followed the collective gaze of Adrien's photoshoot team. It was as if gravity had shifted slightly—attention drawn away from the blond model like petals blown off a rose.
Alya nudged her and whispered, "Uh… Marinette. Look."
Marinette turned her head.
And froze.
There, atop the fountain at the heart of the square, stood Jinx.
Not just stood—he danced with stillness.
He was balanced on the narrowest stone edge like it was a stage built just for him, his figure draped in a skin-tight black shirt that shimmered subtly in the sun, the curves of his silhouette outlined by perfect posture and grace. A crow rested obediently on his outstretched hand like a loyal familiar.
Marinette's breath caught in her throat.
She'd seen Jinx before, of course. Watched him walk the halls of school like a passing shadow. Heard the whispers about how he used to be bubbly—bright, even. That he was close with Adrien and Nino, but barely spoke to anyone else now.
But she'd never seen him like this.
This wasn't a shy boy.
This was a myth made flesh.
"…Whoa," she breathed.
Alya slowly pulled out her phone but didn't dare take a picture. "Is he posing? On purpose?"
Marinette nodded numbly. "Vincent's photographing him."
As they watched, Jinx flowed from one pose to the next like water slipping between stones. Vincent, the flamboyant photographer, was practically on his knees, snapping photos as if his life depended on it.
"YES, my star! YES! Arch your back like you're holding the weight of the moon! Now tilt your chin—just a little—magnifique!"
Marinette's jaw dropped further when she saw Gabriel Agreste himself on the phone, speaking quietly while glancing at photos. Next to him, Nathalie stood like a sentry. She said something into her phone, and moments later, Jinx subtly shifted his weight and offered the faintest of smirks before flowing into yet another picture-perfect stance.
Alya whispered, "I think Nathalie bribed him…"
"With what?" Marinette asked dazedly.
"Dunno. Ice cream? A secret underground ballet studio? A new moon?"
They both giggled quietly, but Marinette's gaze never left Jinx.
There was something in his stillness… the way his movements didn't try to be beautiful—they just were. It reminded her of the first time she saw a dress on a Paris runway. Something so well-crafted, it made your heart forget how to beat for a second.
But there was more than beauty. There was loneliness too.
A kind of elegance that felt like it had been carved from silence.
Marinette felt something stir inside her. Admiration, yes. But curiosity too. That ache to understand a person everyone else had given up trying to.
"Why does he hide?" she murmured.
Alya glanced at her. "You mean Jinx?"
Marinette nodded, eyes still fixed on him. "He's always alone. Even when he's right there, it's like… he's not."
They watched as the crow took off, swirling around him before perching on the edge of the fountain. Jinx stepped down lightly, retrieved his coat, and began walking back toward Adrien—quiet as a breeze, slipping from the center of the world back into the margins.
And just like that, the square went back to normal.
Vincent clutched his camera like it was a newborn child. "I have seen the divine," he whispered to no one. "And his name is Jinx."
Manon tugged on Marinette's sleeve with growing urgency, her eyes sparkling as she pointed toward the nearby vendor. "Marinette, I want a balloon with Mireille on it! Can I? Can I!?"
Marinette didn't respond. Her eyes were locked on the distant figure of Adrien still posing for the camera, his golden hair glowing in the light. Her mind drifted again—fruit smoothies, a proposal in the rain, three kids and a hamster. Adrien smiling at her over candlelight. The photoshoot was her chance. Her moment.
"...Marinette? MARINETTE!!!"
She flinched so hard she nearly toppled over. "Ah! Sorry, what?"
Vincent groaned theatrically nearby. "Ngh! Silenzio! The magic—it's slipping from my fingers like overcooked linguine!"
Manon pouted. "Come on!"
Alya chuckled and offered her hand. "Come on, small fry! I'll get you that balloon."
But Manon only tightened her hold on Marinette's leg. "No! I wanna go with Marinette!"
Marinette glanced once more at Adrien, her heart straining. She sighed. "I'll deal with it. I'm her babysitter."
Alya raised an eyebrow. "But what about Adrien?"
Marinette opened her mouth, but words failed her. She was about to answer when an icy wind rustled the trees. Far above the city, Aurore Beauréal—now twisted into the villainous Stormy Weather—hovered with an ominous scowl, her parasol crackling with swirling air currents. Below, Mireille's name was still chanted by the crowd, and bright balloons of her smiling face floated cheerfully through the streets.
Aurore's eyes narrowed. "For all of you who voted for Mireille, I'd advise you to move indoors. It's about to get very blustery. Oh wait—too late."
With a flick of her parasol, a violent gust of wind sent civilians tumbling like paper dolls, scattering them in terrified shrieks.
Back at the park, Marinette gave Manon a gentle tug. "Come on, let's go back."
"But I want to go on the merry-go-round!" Manon protested, digging in her heels.
"No, no, no—not now. I have to get back to Adrien—"
"You promised!" Manon's eyes welled up. "You're not gonna break your promise, are you?"
"Aw, please don't do the baby doll eyes," Marinette begged.
Manon did the baby doll eyes.
Marinette groaned. "Aw…"
She barely had time to argue before Manon grabbed her hand and led her giggling toward the ride. Meanwhile, overhead, Stormy Weather's icy gaze found the Mireille balloon vendor. Her parasol glowed with wind-charged fury.
Vincent, still at the fountain, was photographing Adrien, who was visibly flagging after a long session of posing. Nearby, Jinx had quietly retreated under the shade of a tree, curled up like a cat and fast asleep.
"No, no, no!" Vincent barked, tossing his camera strap over his shoulder. "The boy has eaten too much spaghetti! We need more! More! Like Jinx! So elegant! So ethereal! We need romance! Drama! We need—a girl!"
His eyes landed on Alya, and he ran up to her. "You! I need an extra!"
"Who, me?" Alya stammered.
"Sì! Pose with Monsieur Adrien! Now!"
Alya blinked. "Uhhh... you really don't want me. I think I'm having an allergic reaction to this apple." She began faking a swollen tongue. "I know jutht the perthon you need! Hold that thought!" She sprinted to Marinette.
"They need an extra to pose with Adrien!" she whispered, barely able to contain her grin.
Marinette nearly choked on air. "What? Seriously?"
Manon, suddenly suspicious, narrowed her eyes. "Is that boy your boyfriend?"
"What?! No, I mean—yes? No!"
"Go on, what are you waiting for?" Alya urged.
"But what about Manon?"
"I got her," Alya waved it off. "You take care of Prince Charming. I'll take care of Miss Unicorn here. You don't even know how to control her anyway."
"No way!" Manon protested. "Marinette's my babysitter!"
"Trust me." Alya knelt beside her. "Unicorns unite! Let's go to Rispa and find us some sad little village kids and grant those wishes! Yee-haw!"
Manon lit up. "Yee-haw!"
Marinette hesitated, torn again between reality and dream. But then something else caught her eye—above the rooftops, a familiar parasol, laced with clouds and ice, hovered in the sky.
Stormy Weather.
The villain fired a swirling blast of wind, freezing the merry-go-round mid-spin. Screams echoed across the park as parents grabbed their children and fled. Ice slithered up the carousel poles, locking everything in a gleaming tomb of frost.
Marinette's expression shifted from dreamy panic to fierce determination. She darted toward the bench behind the trees, out of sight.
"Time to transform."
A sharp gust of wind cut through the Place des Vosges, freezing the air and sending civilians scrambling in terror. Ladybug's eyes narrowed from her hidden spot behind a bench, already drawing the lines of battle in her mind.
"Tikki," she whispered, her voice ironclad with purpose, "spots on!"
A swirl of red light and magical sparkles engulfed her as Tikki dove into her earrings. Marinette's clothes vanished in a flash, replaced by the iconic red suit dotted with black spots. The girl was gone. In her place stood Ladybug, protector of Paris, ready to face the storm.
Cries of panic echoed through the square.
"Ahhh! It's Stormy Weather!"
"She froze the carousel!"
Adrien, who had only just started recovering from the exhausting photo shoot, glanced upward with a frown. Chaos had erupted. He slipped away from the commotion, ducking behind a wide tree. He unzipped his bag and froze.
Empty.
"Plagg?" he hissed. "Plagg!"
From inside a hidden pocket, a lazy voice mumbled, "I'm not here. I'm sleeping."
Adrien held up a piece of Camembert like a sacred offering.
Plagg instantly zipped out from hiding. "For your information, I can smell Camembert in my sleep. It's one of my many remarkable talents."
"Great," Adrien muttered, "but there's no time to talk cheese."
He straightened his back, eyes fierce now. "Plagg, claws out!"
With a burst of emerald light and swirling shadows, Adrien transformed. Leather black melded over his body like living ink, his ring shining with power. Cat Noir landed in a crouch, tail flicking, his signature smirk forming as he rose to his feet.
Meanwhile, beneath the shade of a quiet elm where the chaos hadn't yet reached, Jinx stirred.
One eye cracked open.
A singular violet iris reflected a world he didn't want to be part of right now. And yet… here it was again. Screaming, running, fear. His nap disrupted.
He sighed, long and slow.
From his belt loop, he unhooked a silver pocket watch—ornate, glinting faintly in the trembling light. He flipped it open with a click. A small, pure black figure emerged from its depths, like smoke given form. Its purple eyes glowed, tiny hourglasses spinning within each pupil. Nocturne.
Without a word, Jinx slipped off his gloves, revealing his wrists—adorned with twin panjas bracelets, glinting silver and ancient in design. As his fingers flexed, a second spirit shimmered into view beside Nocturne: white as winter's breath, with flowing, fog-like hair and gleaming eyes as pale as snow. Yuki.
Their energies pulsed in contrast—Nocturne like shadow's edge, Yuki like stilled silence.
Jinx closed his eyes, voice a mere whisper, yet filled with command.
"Nocturne. Yuki. Dual Metamorphosis."
The kwamis responded immediately. Nocturne vanished into the pocket watch, while Yuki merged into the bracelets. A windless hush fell around Jinx, and then the transformation began.
Black snowflakes spiraled around him, delicate yet unearthly. They gathered in a cyclone before bursting outward in a silent pulse of cold magic. His trench coat dissolved into shimmers, replaced by a flowing black kimono laced with glimmering snowflake patterns. The fabric hugged his form elegantly, accentuating his narrow waist and fluid grace.
His hair grew longer, reaching past his shoulders, the tips kissed with pristine white. A hood rose over his head as if summoned by thought alone. Over his face, a porcelain-white mask emerged—curved in a permanent, gentle smile. From the sockets, black tears dripped endlessly, trailing down his cheeks like ink on parchment. Within the hollow eyes, twin white dots gleamed in quiet defiance.
He took a breath.
Checked himself.
Tilted his head.
"Perfect," he murmured, though no one could hear it.
Then, without fanfare, he turned and stepped behind the nearest tree—only to vanish completely, as if the wind itself had swallowed him.
Ladybug's breath curled in the air like mist from a boiling kettle, dissipating into the frozen silence. The carousel before her looked like a sugar-coated relic of a forgotten age, now imprisoned in layers of glimmering ice. Behind that crystalline shell, she could just barely see Alya and little Manon, their silhouettes frozen in a moment of suspended fear and hope.
"Why did I leave Manon?" Ladybug whispered, shoulders trembling—not from the cold, but from guilt. Her gloved hands tightened around the yo-yo at her hip. "I should've never done that…"
A gust of frigid wind whipped through her hair, but she closed her eyes and inhaled. Alya's words returned to her: Trust yourself. Manon's safe. They were a lifeline in this storm of doubt.
Ladybug opened her eyes and forced a confident smile. "I'll get you out of there!" she called, spinning her yo-yo with purpose. "Let's wire-cut this icy cake!"
The yo-yo shot out like a bullet, struck the ice with a satisfying crack… and then helplessly slipped off, skidding across the frost. Ladybug blinked.
"Or not…" she muttered. Her smile faltered, but only for a moment. "On to plan B!" She leaned closer to the ice. "Don't worry, everything's gonna be okay!"
From behind the frosted wall, Manon tilted her head. "Where is Marinette?"
Ladybug's lips parted, caught off guard. "She… hasn't forgotten about you, Manon."
"But how do you know my name?" the child asked with innocent suspicion.
Ladybug's eyes widened briefly, then she laughed—too quickly. "Ah! Marinette told me! She's coming right back, okay?"
Before Manon could question further, Ladybug swung away, vanishing into the swirling snow.
Elsewhere in the city, Stormy Weather strutted down the deserted street, her parasol spinning idly above her shoulder. Black clouds unfurled overhead like stormy curtains, swallowing the sky. The air turned sharp, electric.
Cat Noir dropped in front of her with a flourish. "Hey, Ice Queen! What's with all the terrorizing? Don't you have a snow globe to rage in?"
Stormy Weather sneered. "My name is not Ice Queen. It's Stormy Weather!"
Cat Noir shrugged. "Alright, alright. Just saying—I'm feline more generous than usual today. So how 'bout you cool off and we call it quits?"
Her eyes narrowed like daggers of sleet. "Here's my answer."
She unleashed a howl of wind. Cat Noir screamed as the blast hurled him down the avenue. He tumbled across the frozen road until he hit a snowbank.
Ladybug landed beside him and helped him up.
"I thought cats always landed on their feet," she teased.
He gave her a roguish grin. "Why thank you, m'lady, but I had it all under control." He took her hand and kissed it gallantly.
She rolled her eyes and shoved his face away by the nose. "No time for your childish charm, Cat Noir. But… you're welcome."
From above, thunder cracked like a whip.
"Looks like lightning storms are right on schedule!" Stormy Weather shouted. Her parasol spun and the sky blackened. Lightning forked across the heavens.
Ladybug and Cat Noir were thrown back by another storm burst. As they hit the ground, cars and debris were swept up around them. A bus hurtled toward them, wheels screaming.
Ladybug's yo-yo shot out like a divine blade. It carved a perfect circle through the metal, giving them just enough space to tumble through to safety. The yo-yo stopped spinning and dropped—smacking Cat Noir on the head.
"Ow!"
Ladybug burst into a giggle.
Cat Noir glared up at her. "This is abuse, you know."
Underneath the enchanted, icebound carousel, Alya was keeping Manon distracted with games.
"Lemonade, crunchy ice, hit it once, hit it twice—freeze!"
Manon giggled, then pouted. "You always win, Uni!"
A loud crack echoed through the merry-go-round's frosted shell.
"What was that?" Manon asked, voice trembling.
"It's… the big goblin king!" Alya improvised with wide eyes. "He ate too much and ripped his shirt! Rawr!" She chased Manon in circles before guiding her underneath the platform. "Wanna hear a story?"
Another loud crack—then silence.
A cold stillness spread like ink through water.
And then… he appeared.
A figure emerged from the swirling snowfall—tall, robed in shadows, and completely silent. A permanently smiling white mask covered their face, hollow eyes glowing with twin white dots that never blinked. Black tears ran from the eye sockets, gleaming like tar.
Alya's breath caught in her throat. Her body moved before her mind did, shielding Manon behind her instinctively. "No…"
The figure stepped forward, raising a gloved hand.
Then—with a snap—the ice shattered. But it didn't explode or break with violence. It crumbled softly, melting into black snowflakes that twirled in the air like ash from a dying fire.
Manon stepped out from behind Alya and blinked.
"You… freed us."
Alya's eyes widened in recognition. "You! You're the one who helped Ivan! But then you fought Ladybug and Cat Noir… What's your deal?! Are you a hero or a villain?! Pick a side!"
The figure tilted its head, and somehow the mask's frozen grin became more unsettling. Their voice slithered out—soft, low, and cold as death. It was impossible to tell if it belonged to a man or woman, adult or child. It was neither.
"I have no side," the figure said. "I do what I feel like… because I can. I had the choice to leave you, to let the ice swallow you whole. But I didn't."
Alya stood frozen, stunned.
"That's the difference between someone like you and me," the figure went on. "I choose freely. You only live under the choices made for you—by power, by fear, by the lies they call order. But it matters not. I have better things to do."
They turned slowly, their black cloak swaying like smoke in the air.
"Wait!" Manon called. "What's your name, Miss Hero?"
The figure paused mid-step.
Then turned slightly, revealing one glowing white eye beneath the mask.
"…I will forgive your impertinence, child. You are young, curious. But I am not a woman."
They looked to the stars, then back down, voice like wind in a graveyard.
"The name I give will mean nothing… but you may call me Izanami."
And with that, the figure vanished—dissolving into a gust of black snowflakes that swirled around Alya and Manon before fading into the wind.
Alya stared at the empty air, heart pounding, hands trembling.
Manon whispered, eyes wide, "He looked like a dream… or a nightmare."
Alya nodded slowly, arms wrapping around the girl again.
"Yeah," she whispered. "And I don't know which one scares me more."
Far above the city, in the icy rafters of the broadcast tower, Stormy Weather stood triumphant beneath a canopy of swirling clouds. Her parasol hummed with wind and static, stormlight dancing in her eyes as Hawk Moth's voice poured like dark honey through her earpiece.
"You've shown them who the real winner is, my weather girl," Hawk Moth purred. "But now is the time to fulfill your part of our agreement. And here's the plan…"
On a screen below, Stormy Weather's image crackled to life. Her voice filled the studio with a theatrical sneer:
"Hello, viewers! Here's your forecast for the first day of summer… Looks like Mother Nature had a change of plans. Summer vacation is officially over!"
Cat Noir narrowed his eyes, staring up at the screen. "Already? But I look so good in a swimsuit."
He wiggled his eyebrows and gave Ladybug a playful grin.
Ladybug rolled her eyes. "The catsuit will do, thanks. At least we know where she is."
From the screen, Stormy Weather pointed directly at the camera. "Prepare for the worst weather in history!"
As the studio lights flickered, Cat Noir squinted at a poster pinned near the screen. "Hey… that girl looks familiar."
Ladybug's expression sharpened. "It's her. Aurore. The akuma must be in her parasol."
Stormy Weather's voice rang out once more: "In my world, it's Winter Wonderland… forever!"
Ladybug and Cat Noir pushed open the heavy studio doors and slipped into the eerily empty broadcast floor.
"She's not here," Cat Noir muttered. "It's a recording."
Before Ladybug could reply, a bolt of lightning crackled down from above and shattered a studio light. Darkness swallowed the room.
"Perfect," Hawk Moth whispered from his lair, watching through Stormy Weather's eyes. "Everything is going wonderfully. Soon their Miraculous will be mine."
Stormy Weather laughed with gleeful cruelty as the air filled with pressure.
"Frosty the Snowgirl's getting away!" Cat Noir shouted, dashing through the gloom.
Ladybug sprinted after him—only to trip on a fallen spotlight cable. She tumbled hard.
"Oh, do I hear a damsel in distress?" Cat Noir called back, voice full of mock gallantry.
"Some of us don't have night vision, furball!" she snapped, fumbling to stand.
Without hesitation, Cat Noir reached back, gently pulling her to her feet. "No need to bug out. Just trust me."
Ladybug swatted his hand away. "Okay, that's enough. I think I can manage to—"
"Duck!"
A fire extinguisher flew through the air. Ladybug ducked just in time, the metal canister grazing her ear as it clanged off the wall behind her.
"—follow your lead on this one," she finished, a touch breathless.
They scrambled to the top floor just as Stormy Weather's voice howled from above, her silhouette framed by flashing strobes and falling hail.
"You airheads fell right into my trap!" she shouted, raising her parasol. A vortex of wind burst into life around her, snow swirling like knives.
"The time is now," Hawk Moth urged. "Bring me their Miraculous!"
Stormy Weather raised her parasol high. "Party's over, fools!"
Ladybug glanced down and realized Cat Noir was still holding her hand.
"Uh—"
Cat Noir smirked sheepishly and let go.
"We're just getting started, Stormy!" Ladybug said firmly, eyes narrowing.
"Lucky Charm!" she called, hurling her yo-yo into the air.
A glowing bath towel dropped into her hands.
"A bath towel? What am I supposed to do with this?"
Cat Noir leaned over her shoulder. "Great. So, we're about to be obliterated… but hey, at least we'll be dry."
Ladybug scowled. "Just hold your whiskers."
The storm thickened.
"HAIL!" Stormy Weather screamed.
Frozen bullets rained from the sky.
But then—
A blur.
A sharp, eerie shink echoed through the air as a black scythe cut through the hail like paper. The air turned still in an instant.
Standing between them and the storm was a figure draped in black and white. A kimono shimmered with ghostly snowflakes, and a long hood veiled much of his hair. A mask—white, smiling, crying black tears—covered his face. His eyes were pits of white light. His very presence twisted the atmosphere with cold dread.
Cat Noir's claws slid out. Ladybug tensed.
"Izanami…" she breathed.
"You again?!" Cat Noir said.
The masked figure slowly twirled his scythe before resting it against his shoulder. "Hello, you two. It's been some time."
The heroes fell into a guarded stance, ready for a fight.
But Izanami raised a single hand, palm open. "We are not enemies—for now. Our interests do not conflict."
He stepped forward, each footstep eerily silent.
"Besides," he added, "defeating you as you are now—still unripe, still relying on borrowed power—would not be any fun. I've already done it once. Doing it again before you gain more allies would just be… boring."
Ladybug and Cat Noir exchanged a glance. Uneasy, but understanding they had little choice.
"…Fine," Ladybug said. "Temporary truce."
Izanami gave a slow nod, the black tears on his mask seeming to glisten more deeply.
"So," Cat Noir said, rubbing his sore arm, "you got any actual help to offer, or are you just here to drop cryptic lines and disappear in snow again?"
Ladybug squinted. "No. I've got it. Lucky Vision!"
Her eyes flashed. She saw a vent, the towel, and a ceiling-mounted sign flickering under stormlight.
"There!" she pointed. "Cat Noir, break open the vent. I'll use the towel to—"
"No spoilers," Cat Noir cut in with a grin. "Leave the heavy lifting to me."
"Cataclysm!" he shouted, his hand glowing black.
He touched the vent casing—it crumbled instantly.
Back near the top, Stormy Weather watched the skies darken even more. "In Stormy Weather's world… it's Winter Wonderland forever!"
Izanami appeared silently beside Stormy Weather, his presence chilling the air like a sudden winter night. With a swift, fluid motion, he swung his scythe in a wide arc. Stormy Weather barely had time to react, snapping her parasol closed just in time to block the deadly blade. The clash echoed like thunder, sparks of shadow and light flaring where scythe met umbrella.
But Izanami was far from done. He raised a hand, and from the depths of his palm, an inky, viscous liquid began to rise—dark as the void, swirling like a living vortex. The air grew heavy as the black water twisted and spiraled, growing larger, a maelstrom of shadow and power.
Stormy Weather staggered as a sudden, overwhelming suction pulled at her, dragging her against her will toward Izanami's outstretched palm. She fought to resist, swinging her parasol wildly to break free, but the vortex tightened like a noose.
"You wield storms, but I command the final silence," Izanami's voice was calm, almost tired, as if this battle was just one more chore in a long day. "Death is inevitable, and today, it's my will that seals the forecast."
Stormy Weather unleashed blasts of icy wind and shards of black ice, slicing through the shadows. Izanami shifted effortlessly, dodging with ghostlike grace. When he moved, it was like shadows bending to his will; each step a whisper of decay. His scythe carved through the air, leaving trails of cold mist that drained the warmth and light.
He didn't rush—each strike was measured, a dance of distraction and precision. His aim wasn't just to overpower but to wear her down, to drain her storm's fury. Every slash carried the weight of death's touch, accelerating the decay of ice and wind alike.
Stormy Weather's breaths grew ragged; her eyes flickered with frustration as the vortex tightened again, pulling her closer.
"Give up," Izanami whispered, the dark water swirling faster, "or be consumed by time's decay."
Yet, despite his power, a flicker of fatigue clouded Izanami's gaze. The day's battles had taken their toll, his movements occasionally slower, more deliberate—balancing exhaustion with deadly efficiency.
With a final, graceful twirl of his scythe, he sent a wave of inky shadows sweeping over Stormy Weather, forcing her to retreat, broken and weakened.
Stormy Weather's eyes flashed with fierce determination as she unleashed a relentless barrage of lightning bolts toward Cat Noir. Crackling arcs of electricity tore through the air, illuminating the darkened streets like fireworks on a stormy night. But Izanami, ever graceful and unyielding, glided smoothly out of reach with effortless agility, his movements a blend of shadow and silence.
Stormy Weather's eyes flashed with fury as bolts of jagged lightning streaked toward Cat Noir. The air crackled with electricity, the storm's wrath focused on the nimble hero. But Izanami moved like a shadow, weaving effortlessly between the strikes, untouched by the furious tempest.
Cat Noir narrowed his eyes, claws ready. With a quick command, he unleashed Cataclysm—a surge of destructive energy radiating from his hand. The enormous billboard above them groaned, shaking loose from its moorings before crashing down, aimed directly at Stormy Weather.
The akumatized villain swung her parasol with desperate force, blasting a jagged hole in the falling structure just in time. But Ladybug was already in motion. With precise timing, she whipped her yo-yo around Stormy Weather's ankle, tangling the parasol and bringing her stumbling to a sudden halt.
The familiar crescendo of her transformation music echoed through the chaos as Ladybug dashed beneath a maze of pipes, sprinted along the narrow ledge of a towering crane, and vaulted over a massive HVAC unit. In one fluid motion, she unfurled the bath towel from her Lucky Charm. It billowed like a wing, lifting her into the air with a gust of energy.
With a determined cry, Ladybug soared upward, grasping Stormy Weather and pulling her down toward the ground. The sudden speed and the precarious angle of the crane caused Stormy Weather to lose her grip—and with a startled scream, her parasol tumbled through the air.
Cat Noir leapt, catching the parasol effortlessly and tossing it upward toward Izanami, who hovered nearby. The mysterious figure extended a pale hand over the scythe's blade, infusing it with an eerie magenta glow.
"Mortal Slash," Izanami intoned, his voice cold but calm.
With a smooth, deadly sweep, the scythe cleaved through the parasol. The parasol shattered, the shards disintegrating into dust before the gathered eyes of the heroes. From the remains, the corrupted akuma emerged, flapping its dark wings in frantic desperation as it tried to escape.
"No more evil-doing for you, little akuma. Time to de-evilize!" Ladybug declared, her yo-yo snapping forward to capture the creature in a radiant cage of light. "Gotcha!" With a final, gentle flick, she released the purified butterfly, sending it fluttering free into the sky.
A brilliant flash erupted around them.
"Miraculous Ladybug!" Ladybug cried, tossing the Lucky Charm high into the air. A wave of shimmering light spread outward, repairing the damage to the city as if time itself were rewinding.
As the storm faded, Stormy Weather's icy form melted away, revealing Aurore, confused and disoriented, standing amidst the recovered debris.
At the same moment, Izanami vanished in a swirl of black snowflakes, unnoticed by Ladybug and Cat Noir.
Breathing heavily, Ladybug and Cat Noir exchanged relieved glances.
"Pound it!" they said in unison, their fists meeting in a victorious high five.
In the shadowed depths of Hawk Moth's lair, the villain brooded as the window closed behind him.
"Someday, your Miraculous will be all mine," he vowed, eyes burning with obsession. "I don't care how many enemies I must unleash to win, but I will be victorious. And one day, I will discover who you truly are, Izanami."
The darkness swallowed his words, the chilling promise hanging heavy in the still air.
The golden light of late afternoon bathed the cobblestones of Place des Vosges as Marinette's heart fluttered with nerves and excitement. Nearby, Tikki hovered gently, her tiny wings shimmering like sunlight on water.
"Hey, there's the photographer and Adrien waiting for you!" Tikki chirped, nudging Marinette forward.
Marinette bit her lip, glancing toward the bustling scene ahead. "You don't think it's too late?"
Tikki smiled reassuringly. "Come on, Marinette. You saved Manon—and the whole world, for that matter. You deserve to have some fun now!"
Just then, Manon tugged at Marinette's sleeve, eyes wide and bright. "Marinette!"
Startled, Marinette knelt down. "Huh?"
Manon grinned mischievously. "I know what your secret is!"
Marinette blinked in surprise. "W-w-what secret?"
"Ladybug is your best friend! That's how you both always know what the other one's gonna do!"
Relief washed over Marinette's face, and she wrapped Manon in a warm hug. "Huhhh... Phew! You're right. Thank you, Manon."
Manon's eyes sparkled as she tilted her head, her most persuasive smile ready. "Can I have a lollipop? Can I? Can I? Can I?"
Marinette chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No, Manon. I have something important to do. Alya, you'll watch her, yeah?"
Alya stepped forward confidently. "Don't worry, Marinette. I've got this."
Taking a deep breath, Marinette squared her shoulders. "I'm ready for the photoshoot!"
Nearby, Vincent, the photographer, looked at Manon with a twinkle in his eye. "Wait. Who is that angel?"
Manon giggled, twirling happily as Vincent smiled and gently took her hand.
As Vincent prepared to snap a photo of Adrien, his attention was drawn to a figure curled beneath a nearby tree—Jinx, sprawled like a sleeping kitten, his breathing steady and calm.
"Ah, come on, Jinx," Vincent chuckled, gently shaking the boy awake. "Time to join the party!"
Jinx groaned softly, his eyes fluttering open. He stretched, the sunlight catching the white tips of his longer hair. "I don't want to…"
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Ice cream later, promise."
Jinx's lips curled in reluctant agreement. "Fine. Lead the way."
Soon, Jinx was beside Adrien, the trio smiling as Vincent lifted his camera. "Hohoho! Stupendous! Magnifico! Perfecto!" he exclaimed with delight, clicking
away as Marinette watched from a distance, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
Alya gave her a reassuring pat on the back. "See? You're doing great."
Marinette smiled back, ready to step into the moment—her world unfolding in colors brighter than any photo could capture.