The afternoon light had softened into a golden haze, but the warmth between Draven and Lira lingered like the drifting cherry petals.
Lira licked the last of her strawberry ice cream and nudged Draven with her elbow, eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Come on, admit it. This is way better than slashing monsters all day, right? No blood, no screaming… just me, you, and these cute ducks." She pointed at the pond where two ducks were peacefully gliding side by side. "They're basically us! Except I'm the pretty one with color, and you're the tall, dark, brooding one."
Draven took a slow bite of his dark chocolate cone, his expression unchanging.
"…Ducks don't carry legendary swords."
Lira burst into laughter, nearly dropping what remained of her ice cream. "See? That's why I like you. You always find the most serious way to say the most ridiculous thing." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. "But seriously, Draven… when was the last time you just sat somewhere without scanning for threats? Be honest."
He paused, dark eyes flicking toward the water before returning to her.
"Yesterday. In the café. Before I left."
Lira's smile faltered for a second, then returned softer. "You mean before you rushed off to 'take care of something' and forgot our date?" She poked his arm gently. "You owe me extra affection for that, mister. Starting with telling me one nice thing about today. No short answers allowed."
Draven exhaled slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting the tiniest bit — the closest he ever came to a real smile in public.
"…Your laugh drowns out the noise in my head."
Lira's cheeks turned a deeper pink than her ice cream. She blinked rapidly, suddenly flustered. "W-wait, that's… actually really sweet. Did the 7th Form teach you how to flirt while absorbing monster blood or something?"
The sword at his hip pulsed once — faint, almost reluctant — as if mildly offended by the accusation.
Draven shrugged. "It doesn't talk. Much."
"Liar," Lira teased, linking her arm with his again and resting her head on his shoulder. "I swear sometimes I see it glow when you look at me. Like it's judging whether I'm worthy of its master." She sighed contentedly. "But I don't care. As long as you keep coming back to me after every fight… I can handle the brooding and the mysterious sword."
Draven stayed quiet for a moment, then spoke in a low voice only she could hear.
"You make the quiet feel… bearable. Don't ask me to explain it."
Lira's eyes sparkled with delight. "There he is — my secretly soft Shadow Slayer. Keep talking like that and I might never let you go on another mission." She tilted her face up toward his, their noses almost brushing. "Hey… what if we skipped the cat café next time and just stayed here longer? Just like this. No portals. No monsters. Just petals and promises."
Draven's gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second. The air between them grew charged, heavy with something unspoken and rare.
"…Maybe," he murmured, voice quieter than usual.
Lira's breath caught. She leaned in a little closer, heart racing. "Draven… are you actually about to—"
*Thrum.*
The 7th Form pulsed sharply — urgent, cold, insistent.
Draven's entire posture shifted in an instant. His relaxed shoulders tensed, dark eyes snapping toward the cluster of trees across the pond. The shadows there had deepened unnaturally, thickening like spilled ink despite the bright afternoon sun. A faint ripple of dark energy pulsed once… then vanished.
Lira noticed the change immediately. She pulled back, worry replacing the playful sparkle in her eyes.
"Draven? What's wrong? You went all… hunter-mode again."
He forced his expression to stay calm, but his voice was edged with steel.
"Nothing. Just… the wind."
She narrowed her eyes, not buying it for a second. "Don't lie to me. I've seen that look before. Is it another monster? Here? Now?" Her hand tightened on his arm. "Draven Blackthorn, if you ditch me again for some faceless horror, I swear I'll—"
"Stay here," he said quietly, already rising to his feet with fluid grace. The 7th Form slid half an inch from its sheath on its own, the black blade humming with restrained hunger. "I'll check. Won't take long."
Lira stood up too, grabbing his sleeve. "No way! You promised. No disappearing without saying goodbye. At least tell me what you sense!"
Draven looked down at her, conflict flickering behind his usually emotionless eyes. For a brief moment, the cold warrior softened.
"…Something's watching. From the shadows. It feels… old. Stay close. If anything moves, run toward the crowded path."
Lira swallowed but nodded, her usual bubbly energy replaced by quiet determination. "Fine. But you're not facing it alone this time. We're a team today — petals and shadows, remember?"
The 7th Form pulsed again, stronger, as if tasting the air. In the distance, one cherry blossom tree's petals suddenly fell all at once — unnaturally fast — revealing a silhouette that wasn't there a heartbeat ago.
Draven's hand tightened on the hilt.
"…Deal."
But deep within the monster realm, the ancient cave stirred once more. A low, rasping voice echoed through dripping stone:
"The black stage has drawn new blood… The colors hunger."
---
**To be continued...**