The early afternoon sunlight spilled through the windows of the cat café, casting warm golden rays that glimmered across the polished wood floors. The soft sound of purring and the occasional chime of teacups filled the cozy space.
Luna was on her knees near the cat tree, carefully brushing Mikan, who adored her more than her own treats. The cat rolled over on command, belly exposed like a spoiled queen.
Just as Luna was about to coax Mikan to stand, the doorbell jingled with a crisp ding. She turned only slightly, just enough to spot a tall man in a neutral-toned cap, sunglasses, and a hoodie low over his face stepping inside.
It didn't fool her for even a second.
"Welcome," she said flatly, returning to brushing Mikan like nothing had happened.
Emilio, perfectly incognito to the untrained eye, casually stepped in and made his way to the far booth, where the sun cast an inviting glow. As he sat, Mikan immediately padded over, sniffed at Emilio's shoes, and—after a moment of deliberation—hopped onto his lap as if this was their agreed destiny.
"Good taste, little guy," Emilio murmured with a grin, gently scratching under Mikan's chin. "Seems I'm still popular with the right crowd."
Luna approached, set down a fresh bowl of cat-approved treats for Mikan, and didn't even glance at Emilio. "Don't feed her more than three. She'll fake a stomachache to get cuddles."
Emilio leaned back with an amused hum. "Talented, responsible, charming... You've got it all. What don't you do, Luna?"
Without missing a beat, she stared at him. "Break café rules. That's your warning. Stick to two treats."
He chuckled lowly. "Cold."
Luna simply turned and walked back to the counter.
From behind the espresso machine, Ken peeked, and his eyes widened in recognition. "Oh my god… it's Emilio…" he muttered to himself, then exhaled in deep relief. "Thank the cat gods Leroy's not here. I do not have the emotional capacity for that rivalry today."
Madam Mu, elegant as ever by the window, glanced up from her tea with a smile so subtle it was almost dangerous. "It's a good day for observation," she murmured, eyes gleaming like she was watching a chess match unfold.
Back at the booth, Emilio tapped the screen of the TV near him and smirked when the recent fashion shoot video featuring Kana and the mysterious model—Luna in disguise—flashed across the screen.
"Well, well," he said loud enough for Luna to hear, "have you ever met the fashion queen in that clip? Because damn—she had this energy. Wild, unbothered, a little sharp-edged. Reminded me of someone."
Luna walked past him to refill a water bowl. "Never heard of her."
"Shame," Emilio replied with mock sadness. "She'd probably step on your foot if you said the wrong thing."
Luna looked him dead in the eye—and accidentally brought her heel down right on his foot as she turned around.
"Oh," she said in a completely unbothered voice, "Oops."
Emilio burst out laughing, shoulders shaking and face lighting up in full amusement. "And there it is. I knew she had your energy."
Ken, watching this unfold, had to duck behind the pastry case to suppress a squeak of horror.
Madam Mu raised her cup as if to toast the chaos. "Some dances don't need music," she mused.
Mikan yawned loudly, then proceeded to make biscuits on Emilio's thigh like she'd found the best seat in the universe.
Luna gave her a side-eye. "Betrayer."
Emilio flashed a grin. "Hey, even your cat has good taste."
"Not my cat," Luna said, already moving away.
But her smirk was just barely visible in the reflection of the tea warmer's glass.
The familiar jingle of the café's doorbell rang again, light and cheerful, completely at odds with the storm that was just about to step through.
Leroy.
Clad in a sleek black long coat and gloves he didn't even bother to remove, he scanned the room in one slow, assessing sweep. Then his eyes landed on the last person he expected to see slouched leisurely in a booth with Mikan curled on his lap like a smug crown.
Emilio.
The actor-slash-fighter-slash-persistent pain in Leroy's carefully regimented existence smiled. A slow, lazy, challenging smile.
"Leroy," Emilio drawled. "Long time, no growl."
Leroy's jaw flexed. His pace was unhurried but firm as he approached the booth. The air thinned, cats scattered, and even the purring paused.
At the window, Madam Mu sipped her tea with a peaceful smile and murmured, "Ah. My soap opera has arrived."
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ken had just finished placing the last cinnamon scone on the tray when his gut screamed danger. He peeked through the service window—and almost dropped the tray.
He ducked back like a man who just saw his life flash before his eyes.
"Luna!" Ken hissed toward the back room. "We've got a situation! Emergency tier—tier Leroy vs Emilio!"
From the back, Luna's voice was muffled but definitely grumpy. "Why do you sound like you're announcing a boss raid?"
"Because it's happening!" Ken stage-whispered. "Get out here before they break something—or worse—start bantering!"
With a long groan, Luna emerged from the back with flour on her sleeves and a rubber spatula still in one hand.
"Why is it always me?" she muttered, tugging off her apron. She glared at Ken. "You're the manager. Manage."
Kenji pointed dramatically to the sky. "Call George."
Luna narrowed her eyes. "You call him."
Kenji's face went pale. "He's on a date. With his wife. He threatened me in three languages not to contact him until Monday. I value my kneecaps."
"Coward," Luna muttered, tossing the spatula at the sink and cracking her knuckles as she headed toward the front.
Out in the café, Leroy and Emilio had yet to speak again, but their mutual loathing was practically radiating.
"Leroy," Luna said, sliding in between them like an annoyed older sister. "What a surprise."
"Didn't expect to see him here," Leroy said flatly, nodding at Emilio.
Emilio grinned, patting Mikan like a bond villain. "Well, you know me. Just spreading love and cat fur."
"Spread it somewhere else," Leroy muttered.
"You're cute when you're territorial," Emilio shot back, crossing his legs casually.
Luna raised a hand between them like a referee calling timeout. "No claws in the café. I just cleaned the floor."
Both men looked at her—then briefly at each other—then scowled.
"I finished work early," Leroy said, tone pointed. "Wanted to check in."
"And I'm just here supporting local business," Emilio said innocently. "And cats."
"And agro my baristas," Luna added with a glare at Emilio.
"Technically I'm just letting your cat use me as a pillow," Emilio replied, gesturing to Mikan who was now fully asleep.
Ken peeked again from the kitchen window, watching Luna press her fingers to her temples like she was silently summoning patience from another dimension.
"You two," she said, "have two choices: behave and stay for coffee. Or fight it out in a sumo suit match outside. Your pick."
Silence.
Then Emilio raised a brow. "Do I get to wear the pink sumo suit?"
Leroy actually scoffed. "You'd wear it even if you lost."
"I'd look good either way," Emilio shrugged.
Luna turned to Ken, who was sneaking behind the counter with a tray. "Ken, tell them they're banned from sugar until they behave."
"Y-yes, ma'am," Ken saluted.
Luna then turned to Leroy with an arched brow. "You gonna sulk here like a thundercloud, or sit and have some tea with me like a human?"
Leroy blinked. And after a pause, he let out a resigned exhale. "Fine. But I want the good tea. Not the stuff Ken makes."
Ken from behind the counter: "I heard that!"
Emilio chuckled. "I'll take the scones. All of them."
"No you won't," Luna said, dragging both of them by the moral collar toward the center table.
Madam Mu watched them go, tea steaming in her hand, as she whispered, "Chaos is the spice of quiet lives. I should've brought my camera."
The air in the café had that deceptive stillness of a storm about to break, the kind that makes even the cats tread lightly. Madam Mu, ever the queen of quiet chaos, sipped her tea as if it were champagne and she were front row at a royal scandal.
Luna, freshly liberated from Ken's desperate pleading, took a seat at the low table across from Leroy, her mug of oolong steaming gently between them. She ignored the blatant sigh that came from Emilio's booth where Mikan still napped, temporarily abandoning his chosen throne.
"I see," Emilio said just loud enough to carry, "I wasn't invited to tea time. That's fine. No one likes a handsome third wheel."
Leroy sipped his tea slowly. Smirked. "You said it."
Luna didn't even blink. "That's because you steal scones and sass the cats."
Emilio leaned back in exaggerated wounded pride. "You wound me."
"No," Luna said calmly, eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned closer to Leroy, "but someone did wound you."
She reached over without warning and brushed back the soft strands of dark hair above Leroy's left ear—and there it was: a faint, thin scratch just behind his ear, barely visible but raw enough to concern her.
"Hold still," she muttered, already rummaging in her apron pocket.
Leroy blinked at her, clearly not used to this kind of fuss, and especially not in public. "It's nothing."
"Mm-hm."
She pulled out a tiny alcohol wipe and a bandage with little paw prints on it. Before he could protest, she was wiping the scratch clean with practiced efficiency.
Leroy hissed softly, more out of reflex than pain. "Seriously, Luna."
"Seriously, Leroy," she shot back. "If you're going to throw yourself into a situation where you're getting scratched up, at least clean it. This is how people get infections."
Her fingers were gentle but firm, her expression focused and unapologetic as she inspected his jawline next, tilting his face toward the light. Leroy didn't dare move.
Madam Mu placed her cup down softly, eyes glittering with unspoken delight. She whispered to herself, "Ah, young tension. Beautiful."
From his booth, Emilio now stood, placing a sleepy Mikan to the side cushion with reverent care. He walked over casually—far too casually—and stood beside their table, arms crossed.
"You know," Emilio said smoothly, "most people appreciate a little personal space."
Luna turned to look at him, her eyes glinting with that mischievous calm he was starting to recognize as dangerous. Without a word, she reached out and grabbed Emilio's hand, surprising him.
"What—"
"There's a scratch here too," she said, already pulling another wipe from her pocket. "You all walk around like cats with hidden bruises and expect no one to notice."
Emilio opened his mouth to argue, but her fingers were already dabbing at the tiny nick along his knuckle. Then came the band-aid—a matching paw print one, pressed down with unnecessary precision.
"There," she said. "You could've just asked for one instead of fishing for attention."
Leroy made a low sound, somewhere between a growl and a sigh.
Emilio arched an eyebrow. "Now I feel scolded and cared for. How conflicting."
Luna finally leaned back, brushing her hands clean. "Next time, walk around with a first aid kit taped to your ego."
Ken, peeking from the kitchen door, whispered a prayer to the gods of café peace.
Madam Mu's shoulders shook with a barely contained chuckle as she texted someone:
Battle lines drawn. Claws trimmed. The courtship war begins.
The café felt less like a haven for cats and tea and more like a standoff ring doused in vanilla and tension, and Luna—apron slightly askew, cheeks dusted in flour—stood at the center like a tired but firm general.
Emilio, never one to let a show end prematurely, lifted his hand dramatically, showing a faint red line on his wrist. "Ah, Luna. I fear there's another grievous wound. Might need your special care again."
Luna didn't even blink. "That's from trying to charm Mikan with a breadstick."
"Still counts," Emilio said, grinning as he nudged his sleeve higher. "Look, one on my elbow too."
Leroy, now visibly annoyed, set his teacup down with a soft but deliberate clink. "Didn't you just say something about personal space?"
Emilio turned his head slowly. "Well, she is the exception."
Luna raised both brows, stepped between them, and pointed at each like a stern school teacher. "You two need to stop squabbling like you're in kindergarten. Honestly."
Both men blinked at her.
Without another word, Luna grabbed two fresh muffins—one banana oat, the other blueberry crumble—from the display tray behind her, shoved one into Emilio's mouth, and the other squarely into Leroy's.
"Mmph—!" Emilio mumbled through the sweet obstruction.
Leroy gave her a betrayed glare as he chewed.
"If you don't make up right now," Luna said calmly, wiping her hands on her apron, "I swear I'll leave. Right out the door. Never come back. You two can claw each other into glitter and regret."
Both men stared at her in disbelief, mouths still full of muffin.
"…You're serious," Leroy said, swallowing thickly.
Luna nodded once. "Try me."
A long silence passed.
Emilio sighed dramatically, wiped a few crumbs from his lips, and held out a hand to Leroy. "Truce for the day?"
Leroy gave Luna a wary glance, then grumbled, "Fine," and took the handshake with a squeeze that was a little too firm.
The moment passed. Peace—for now—was restored.
From behind the counter, Ken poked his head out and clapped quietly. "That was majestic. A true power move. My muffins have never been used as weapons for peace before. I'm honored."
Madam Mu, who had been sipping her tea and silently rooting for chaos, let out a quiet, disappointed hum. "Such potential… wasted," she muttered, still nibbling her rice crackers. But her eyes sparkled with glee nonetheless.
Luna flopped down at the corner booth with a huff. "I deserve hazard pay."
Ken brought over another muffin—this one chocolate chip—and set it beside her. "You've earned it. And I'm promoting you to Muffin Negotiator."
As the last warm bell above the café door chimed and the soft mews of cats settled into twilight hums, Luna wiped her hands clean, stretched her back, and peeked toward the front.
There stood Leroy, waiting—casual but alert, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on the counter like he belonged there. His eyes flicked up as Emilio approached, clearly finished with his tea and mischief for the day.
The two men exchanged a long look.
"Must be nice," Emilio muttered under his breath, gaze steady on Leroy before shifting to Luna. "Duty calls, sweetheart," he said, stepping closer and wrapping Luna into a brief but tight hug. "Wish me luck?"
Luna blinked, caught off guard, then smiled and gave him a light pat on the back. "Good luck on your next match. Try not to break the ring this time."
That made Emilio chuckle—a genuine, unguarded sound. "Now that's a curse and a blessing."
Leroy's jaw tightened slightly, arms crossed. Emilio saw it, smirked again, then winked at Luna and strolled out, the door shutting behind him with a whoosh of cooling night air.
Ken poked his head out, visibly relieved. "Well, that's that. No blood, no spilled tea. Muffins—one hundred percent effective."
Madam Mu grinned into her teacup, murmuring, "Love triangles always make tea taste better."
With a sigh, Luna grabbed her bag and turned to Leroy. "Let's go before Ken gets any more ideas."
Outside, the streets were painted in soft orange by the city lamps, wind carrying the faint scent of sweet buns and rain somewhere far off. Leroy walked beside her, quiet and steady as usual, until Luna glanced at him with a knowing squint.
"You've been limping slightly," she said casually.
Leroy didn't respond at first.
"And you've got bruises on your arms. I noticed the other day." Her tone was calm, but the edge of concern was there, real and sharp.
Leroy exhaled slowly, looking ahead. "Nothing serious."
Luna stopped walking and turned to face him fully, arms crossed. "Leroy."
He turned too, eyes meeting hers.
"If you're having money issues," she said, her voice softer, "you can rely on me now. I've got money. Real money. I can help."
That surprised him. His lips twitched up into a lopsided smile. "Luna... that's really sweet. But I'm okay. Really."
"You always say that," Luna muttered, before reaching up and pinching his side just below his ribs, making him jolt.
"Hey—!"
"Don't lie to me," she scolded, her brows drawn. "If you're moonlighting in fights or taking sketchy guard jobs, I swear I'll stalk every job board until I find it and block you."
He looked down at her, a bit stunned… then smiled, for real this time—a quiet, fond kind of smile, the kind he rarely showed.
"I'll be careful," he said. "Promise."
She eyed him a second longer, then nodded, content for now. They resumed walking, slower, more in sync.
Leroy glanced her way again and said, "Thanks. Really. I didn't think you'd notice."
Luna shrugged with a teasing smirk. "I notice everything. It's part of my charm."
Leroy just laughed—a deep, warm laugh that stirred something in the quiet of the night—and in that moment, with nothing between them but a sidewalk and soft lights, he silently treasured everything about her.