(Subaru POV)
The fruit stand was still there — a crooked canopy of faded orange, stacked with bruised apples and vaguely citrusy orbs that didn't exist back home. The turbaned shopkeeper glared at Subaru like he'd already asked about the price three times and still hadn't bought anything.
Which, to be fair, was true.
"Guess I've become a local ghost," Subaru muttered, sidestepping a wheelbarrow and pressing a palm to his forehead. "Wandering the same market with no purchases, no prospects, and no pulse anyone else can detect. That's prestige."
His eyes flicked down the street, watching the pattern of carts and pedestrians and shouting vendors. He let the noise soak into him — like rubbing gravel into a wound, trying to feel present through repetition.
The third time he met her — "Not-Satella," as his brain had filed her away — it was right around here. Not exactly here, not by the overripe melon cart or the linen shop with the one-legged stool outside. But nearby. Somewhere on the main drag where the cobblestones turned a little slicker and the air a little heavier.
He walked a slow circle past the fruit stand again.
"And I'm back," he announced to no one, halting where he'd started. "Big shock."
The shopkeeper muttered something in an unflattering tone and flapped a cloth at him.
Subaru ignored him. He crouched down instead, elbows on his knees, and stared at the ground like it might replay old memories if he focused hard enough.
"Okay. Think," he said aloud. "First time, she saved me. Third time… didn't. So I sulked. Sat right over… there?"
He pointed vaguely at a patch of cobblestone near a sewer grate.
"And got jumped. Then Reinhard showed up."
A thought pulsed in the back of his head. It wasn't a certainty, just a ghost of a hope wrapped in bad logic and worse instincts: What if I retrace my steps just right? What if he comes again?
He stood.
"I have no idea if that's how it works," he admitted, adjusting his grip on the plastic bag still hanging from his wrist like a useless charm. "But if I'm wrong, the worst case is… another stabbing."
That came out louder than intended. A woman leading a child by the hand gave him a worried glance. Subaru grinned awkwardly and pointed at his temple like ha-ha, nothing serious here, just a little mental erosion.
The woman sped up.
He exhaled through his nose.
"Well, nice knowing you, Main Street," he said, and took a left turn into the shade between buildings.
The alley swallowed him immediately. The light dropped by half, and the temperature followed. Trash bins leaned against the walls like they were listening in. His sneakers hit the dirt-caked cobbles with soft, almost apologetic thuds.
Subaru slowed. His breath slowed too.
He scanned the narrow corridor — every crack in the stone, every gouge in the plaster walls. A hundred things didn't match, and a hundred things almost did.
It wasn't exactly the same alley. But it was close enough to wake that gnawing feeling in his gut.
"Feels like a setup," he murmured.
One hand drifted to the pocket of his hoodie, gripping nothing.
He walked deeper, hearing only the soft creak of his own shoes — until he didn't.
A scuff.
Behind him.
Subaru froze.
The hairs on his neck stood up.
Slowly, he turned, just as three shadows spilled into the alley's mouth.
They stepped into the alley with all the subtlety of a traveling circus with a grudge. Same stupid stances. Same mismatched weapons. Same aura of greasy bravado and body odor.
Subaru groaned aloud and threw his head back. "Oh come on."
Ton blinked. Chin scowled. Kan cracked his knuckles like he thought it meant something.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Subaru continued, now gesturing theatrically with both arms. "This again? You three again? What, do I have 'Free Loot' scribbled on my back in thief-script?"
"I told you he talks weird," Chin muttered to the others.
"Yeah, and loud. Think he's got a screw loose?" Kan replied.
"Who cares?" Ton barked. "Shut up and give us your stuff!"
Subaru rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing through his teeth. "Same lines, too. Real original. Do you practice that garbage or is it just instinctive at this point?"
Kan stepped forward, face red. "You think you're funny, brat?"
"No," Subaru said, eyes flicking past them. "But I'm hoping someone else does."
Ton narrowed his eyes. "You looking at the street? Think someone's gonna help you?"
"I think someone might, yeah."
Kan grunted. "Ain't nobody here but us, and we're not here to babysit."
Subaru gave them a tight, sharp smile — all teeth, no comfort.
"Yeah? We'll see."
Then, he inhaled. Filled his lungs like he was about to launch into a kiai. His hand clenched by his side. And then—
"GUAAAAAAAARDS!!!"
The word ricocheted off the alley walls like a bullet in a canyon. Even the crows on the roof gave an indignant squawk and flapped away.
Tonchinkan recoiled, staggered by the sheer force of it.
"You bastard!" Ton shouted, face twisted. "You're seriously yelling at a time like this?!"
Subaru didn't stop. "SOMEONE—! I NEED A MAN—!!!"
Chin flinched like he'd just been slapped with a fish.
Kan drew his rusty blade halfway. "You're trying to scare us? That's your plan?"
"Not scare," Subaru said, heart hammering behind his ribs like it was trying to beat its way out. "Just stalling for… let's call it cosmic reinforcements."
They glared at him. Weapons raised.
Subaru stood his ground. Or rather, he vibrated in place like a man trying to stand his ground while his instincts screamed at him to run, cartwheel, or faint.
He stared at Chin, picking the same mental target from last time. He started counting under his breath.
Three… two…
Chin's foot shifted. Subaru flexed his knees—
"―That's enough."
The voice came like a piano chord played at the end of a silent prayer — calm, deliberate, not loud… but final.
Subaru stopped breathing.
So did Tonchinkan.
Three heads turned slowly toward the alley's mouth.
And there he was.
Reinhard.
Tall. Composed. His red hair catching what light remained like embers that refused to die. His blue eyes steady. His sword at his side.
Subaru let out a breath that didn't quite become a laugh.
"…It actually worked."
But then—behind Reinhard, one boot clicked down on the alley stone.
Another figure emerged.
A boy—or man?—a little older than Subaru, with golden-blonde waves tied back by a blue ribbon and a coat trimmed in sun-stitching. He leaned casually, a lute slung across his back like a forgotten weapon, and eyes the color of candlelight scanning the alley as though appraising a theater stage.
He smiled.
A slow, indulgent, entirely-too-charming smile.
"Oh my," the stranger said. "I do believe someone cried out for a man."
Subaru blinked.
"…Who the hell are you?"