Mizue’s instructions were, as always, unhelpfully specific.
“Buy her something mage-like,” she said that morning, gesturing vaguely while sipping from a teacup. “Not cultist. Not academy student. Something that says, ‘I was summoned by the kingdom to help with something you cannot fathom.’ You know. Mage stuff.”
Yura blinked. “And what about the or—”
“If anyone asks, the orb’s a familiar or a surveillance sentry. Say it’s expensive. People will stop asking questions.”
And just like that, Yura found herself dragged into the academy’s shopping district with a barely-speaking girl, a floating slime ball, and no understanding of fashion beyond “please don’t look homeless.”
Kyuu walked beside her quietly, hands at her sides, eyes constantly shifting — not toward any object directly, but toward movement, color, sound. She was clearly fascinated by the noise and pace of the world, even if she didn’t dare interact with it.
Orby trailed behind her in silence, bobbing with every step.
Yura had no idea where to begin.
After twenty minutes of wandering, she was about ready to give up. Every shop they entered was either too expensive, too eccentric, or too… tacky. One displayed only frilly purple coats with way too many gold buttons. Another had a mannequin floating in the air, modeling leather shorts and an open cape like some sort of dungeon idol.
Yura groaned. “Who wears this stuff…?”
Then she noticed Kyuu had stopped.
A few paces behind her, Kyuu stood still in front of a shop window, head tilted.
Yura turned back, eyebrows furrowed. “Kyuu?”
Kyuu didn’t answer — just stared.
Behind the glass stood a mannequin wearing a soft gray robe trimmed in pale violet. It had long sleeves, flowing layers, a hood, and decorative ribbons tied to it. But Kyuu wasn’t looking at the robe.
She was staring at her own reflection.
The glass caught just the right angle, and the robe’s position lined up perfectly with where Kyuu stood. It looked like she was already wearing it — hood shadowing her eyes, fabric draping gently over her frame.
She blinked, stepped slightly to the side, and then leaned back into the alignment. Her expression remained unreadable, but something about the stillness made Yura hesitate.
She glanced at Orby, expecting it to be floating nearby.
It wasn’t.
“…Wait.”
Yura’s eyes flicked to the display again. The hood of the robe had a small, distinct bulge.
The fabric twitched.
“Oh no,” Yura whispered.
She rushed into the store, trying not to look suspicious as she approached the mannequin. Sure enough, tucked deep into the hood, nestled like a smug parasite, was a slowly rotating Orby.
Yura exhaled slowly through her nose. “You really want to pick this one?”
She turned back toward the window. Kyuu was still standing in place, head tilted, still examining herself in the reflection.
Yura looked at the mannequin, the robe, the orb trying to play innocent, and then back at Kyuu.
“…Fine.”
The store clerk didn’t ask questions. Yura paid for the robe while pretending she didn’t see the small bump shifting in the bag as she carried it toward the changing area.
Helping Kyuu dress was surprisingly smooth. She didn’t resist, didn’t question, just followed Yura’s gentle nudges and nods.
The robe was slightly too big, draping over her frame like it had been designed for someone to hide in. The hood flopped over her shoulders when she moved.
Yura folded Kyuu’s old clothes into a bag and stood back. Kyuu stood in front of a mirror now, looking herself over, hands occasionally rising to touch the fabric at her shoulders or the ribbon near her waist. When she stepped forward, the robe swayed softly. She blinked at the motion, then glanced toward her sleeves and brushed one hand along the hem.
She didn’t smile exactly. But she looked content. Like this version of herself made more sense than the last.
Yura rubbed the back of her neck. “I guess… it doesn’t look that weird on you.”
Orby floated silently beside them again, no longer hiding.
They continued walking along the shopping lane. Kyuu kept one hand on the fabric near her waist, occasionally batting lightly at the dangling end of a ribbon like it was some kind of curiosity. Her pace was slow but steady, and she moved like someone who’d never felt clothing brush against her like this before.
Yura was about to suggest heading back when she spotted a familiar silhouette at the edge of a bookseller’s stall.
Tall, straight-backed, and immediately recognizable: Elaine — the top student of Ebonvale academy.
Yura tensed.
Kyuu drifted past her a little, distracted by a group of birds flying overhead.
Yura grabbed her arm gently and whispered, “Stay close.”
Elaine turned, noticing them in the corner of her eye.
Yura gave an awkward smile and a polite wave. “H-hi, Elaine.”
Elaine approached, her steps calm and composed. She wore a light overcloak and carried a leatherbound satchel over one shoulder.
“Yura,” she said with a small nod. “Good afternoon.”
“G-good afternoon,” Yura echoed quickly. “We were just, uh… shopping.”
Her voice cracked. Elaine waited patiently.
Yura motioned to Kyuu. “This is… um. She’s a mage. A traveling one. Mizue brought her in. I’m just… helping her settle.”
Kyuu turned slightly, lifting a hand in a small, stilted wave, as if curious what the gesture meant.
Elaine’s eyes lingered. Not long. Just long enough to really look.
But her expression didn’t change.
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
Kyuu blinked. “…Hi.”
Elaine nodded again. “Well. Enjoy your day.”
With that, she stepped past them, heading down the lane with quiet grace.
Yura didn’t breathe until she was out of sight.
They arrived at Mizue’s door just in time to hear someone talking far too fast from the other side.
Yura knocked. A muffled “Come in!” answered immediately.
Inside, Mizue was lounging at her desk with her boots on the table, listening to Ibuki, who stood mid-rant about something Yura couldn’t comprehend.
“—and then he says I’m not allowed to charge the student council for the portable stage fog generators. Like, what part of ambiance does he not understand—?”
She stopped as soon as she saw Kyuu.
There was a long pause.
Mizue stood up slowly, lowering her feet, her eyes wide and sparkling.
“…No.”
She walked around the desk, her voice hushed and reverent.
“No way. It’s perfect! The sleeves—! The hood—! The way it just floofs at the edges—!”
Yura blinked. “Floofs?”
Ibuki gasped. “She’s got the look of a tragic warlock!! Like she watched her family’s hometown explode and vowed to study magic to obtain her revenge!”
“She does, doesn’t she?!” Mizue leaned in close, eyes shimmering. “All she needs is a sad backstory and a cursed item!”
Yura looked down at Orby, who was now floating behind her, quivering slightly like it was actively hiding from Mizue. She sighed.
“You two are seriously the worst.”
Kyuu stood still, not quite understanding the attention but not fighting it either. She looked between them with a blank face—and then gave a tiny, lopsided smile.
Mizue clutched her heart.
“Yura,” she whispered, “this is your greatest achievement.”
“I just bought clothes…” Yura muttered, dead inside. . . .
