Cyrus leaned against the wall outside the Blue Pharmacy, watching the evening crowd thin as shops began closing for the night. He'd arrived fifteen minutes early, driven by a restlessness he couldn't quite name. The cobblestone street still retained heat from the day's sun, radiating warmth against the cooling evening air.
He adjusted his collar for the third time in five minutes. The black shirt felt unnecessarily formal, though Rose had assured him it suited him when he'd stopped by the Guild to cash in their crystal haul. The look she'd given him afterward suggested she knew exactly why he'd bothered to change.
Two hours to get ready, Tessia had said. He'd managed it in forty-five minutes, including a stop at the Guild. The remaining time had stretched uncomfortably, filled with thoughts he'd rather not examine too closely.
Naaza's silhouette appeared behind the pharmacy's frosted glass door. Her movements were unhurried as she flipped the sign from "OPEN" to "CLOSED," then turned the key in the lock with deliberate precision. When she spotted him, her perpetually sleepy expression shifted into something more calculating.
"You're early," she said, voice as languid as her posture.
"Better than late."
"Hmm." Her purple eyes assessed him with the same clinical attention she gave her potions. "Black suits you. Brings out your eyes."
He made a noncommittal sound. "Tessia ready?"
"Almost." Naaza leaned against the doorframe, tail swishing slowly behind her. "Miach's helping her with something upstairs."
"Ah." He shifted his weight, suddenly aware of how exposed he felt under her scrutiny. "Good run today. Sold a decent haul at the Guild."
"So I heard." Her mouth curved into something too knowing to be called a smile. "Tessia came back quite... energized."
The way she emphasized that last word carried implications he chose to ignore. "She's a quick learner. Good instincts."
"Mhm." Naaza's ears twitched. "You know, she's never asked to leave early before. Not once since joining the Familia."
Cyrus met her gaze evenly. "Your point?"
"Just an observation." She straightened, adjusting her asymmetrical sleeves. "She's important to us. To Miach."
"I'm aware."
"Are you?" The sleepy quality of her voice had vanished, replaced by something sharper. "Because if this is just another conquest for Orario's most eligible bachelor—"
"It's not like that," he said, cutting her off. "We're celebrating a successful training run. That's all."
Naaza studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "If you say so." Before he could respond, she turned toward the stairs. "I'll tell her you're here."
As she disappeared inside, Cyrus exhaled slowly. The conversation had left him feeling oddly defensive, though Naaza had every right to be protective. Familia bonds ran deep, especially in smaller groups like Miach's.
The door opened again, but instead of Tessia, Miach himself emerged. His gentle features were set in a thoughtful expression as he approached.
"Cyrus," he greeted with a warm smile. "Good to see you."
"Miach." Cyrus inclined his head respectfully. "How's business?"
"Steady, thanks to you." The god's dark blue eyes held the same kindness they always did, but something else lurked beneath—assessment, perhaps. "Your recommendation brought in three new customers yesterday."
"Glad to hear it." Cyrus straightened slightly under that steady gaze. "Your potions deserve the recognition."
"Kind of you to say." Miach glanced back toward the pharmacy. "Tessia will be down momentarily. She's... quite excited about this evening."
There it was again—that subtle emphasis, the knowing look. Cyrus kept his expression neutral. "It was her idea. Celebrating a successful training session."
"Yes, she mentioned that." Miach smiled. "She also spent nearly two hours deciding what to wear."
Cyrus didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Miach watched him for a moment longer before his expression softened.
"You know, when you brought her to us that day—half-dead from poison, barely breathing—I thought we might lose her." The god's voice was quiet, reflective.
"It was the right thing to do."
"Yes, it was." Miach nodded slowly. "That's why I've never worried about her spending time with you, despite what others might say about your... reputation."
Cyrus raised an eyebrow. "My reputation?"
"Orario talks." Miach shrugged lightly. "But I prefer to judge people by their actions, not rumors. And your actions have always shown care and respect."
Before Cyrus could formulate a response, the pharmacy door opened again. This time, Tessia stepped out.
She wore a deep blue dress that caught the fading light like water, its simple lines accentuating her graceful figure. Her golden hair fell loose around her shoulders, framing her face in soft waves. Small silver earrings caught the light when she moved, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her neck.
But it was her eyes that caught and held his attention—turquoise depths that seemed to glow against her skin, filled with a mixture of nerves and excitement as they found his.
"Hi," she said, her voice softer than usual.
For a moment, Cyrus forgot to respond. He'd seen her covered in monster blood, exhausted from training, half-dead from poison—but this was something else entirely.
"Hi," he finally managed. "You look... nice."
A slight blush colored her cheeks. "Thank you. So do you."
Miach cleared his throat gently. "You two should get going if you want to make your reservation. Hibachitei gets busy, even on weeknights."
Tessia nodded, then stepped forward to give the god a quick hug. "Thank you for your help."
"Anytime." Miach patted her shoulder before stepping back. "Enjoy your evening. Don't worry about coming in early tomorrow."
That last comment earned him a flustered look from Tessia, but she didn't argue. Instead, she turned to Cyrus with an expectant smile. "Shall we?"
He offered his arm without thinking, a gesture that felt both foreign and strangely right. "Lead the way."
As they started down the street, Cyrus felt Miach's gaze following them. When he glanced back, the god was watching with an expression that somehow managed to be both approving and warning at once.
Not a date, Cyrus reminded himself firmly. Just a celebration between comrades.
But as Tessia's hand rested lightly on his arm, her warmth seeping through the fabric of his sleeve, he wondered if anyone else would see it that way.
The streets of Orario took on a different character at dusk. Lanterns flickered to life along the main thoroughfares, casting pools of golden light that turned ordinary cobblestones into something almost magical. Shop owners called final greetings to each other as they locked up for the night, while taverns and restaurants opened their doors to the evening crowd.
"I've never been to Hibachitei," Cyrus admitted as they turned onto Northwest Main Street. "Heard good things, though."
"Naaza recommended it." Tessia's ears twitched slightly—a tell he'd learned meant she was either nervous or excited. "She said they have private dining rooms where you can actually have a conversation without shouting."
"Unlike the Hostess."
"Exactly." She smiled, her profile catching the lantern light. "As much as I love Mia's cooking, the constant noise makes it hard to hear yourself think."
They walked in companionable silence for a while, weaving through the evening crowd. Tessia's hand remained on his arm, her touch light but present. He found himself adjusting his pace to match hers, slowing his usual stride to accommodate her shorter legs.
"Thank you," she said suddenly. When he glanced down questioningly, she elaborated: "For today. The training."
"You did all the work."
"Maybe." Her fingers tightened slightly on his arm. "But having someone who believes in you—who pushes you past what you think you can do—that makes all the difference."
The sincerity in her voice caught him off guard. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing." She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. The determination in her eyes reminded him of how she'd looked during battle. "Before I met you, I was just... existing. Going through the motions. Now I'm actually living. Growing. So thank you."
He wasn't sure how to respond to that level of earnestness. "You're welcome," he said finally, the words feeling inadequate.
She seemed to understand, giving him a small smile before resuming their walk. "Anyway. That's why I wanted to do this. To show my appreciation properly."
There was that word again—properly. It carried weight he wasn't sure how to interpret.
They turned onto a smaller side street, where the buildings grew more ornate and the crowds thinned. Hibachitei occupied a corner location, its facade elegant without being ostentatious. Paper lanterns hung from the eaves, casting a warm glow over the entrance.
A hostess greeted them at the door, her practiced smile widening slightly as she recognized Cyrus. "Welcome to Hibachitei. Do you have a reservation?"
"Yes, under Eralith," Tessia answered before he could speak.
The hostess consulted her book, then nodded. "Of course. Your private room is ready. Please follow me."
As they moved through the main dining area, Cyrus noted the restaurant's tasteful decor—polished wood, subtle artwork, ambient lighting that created intimate spaces within the larger room. Most tables were occupied by couples or small groups, their conversations forming a pleasant background murmur rather than the cacophony of the Hostess.
The hostess led them to a separate wing, then slid open a shoji screen to reveal a small private dining room. A low table occupied the center, surrounded by comfortable cushions. A single lantern hung from the ceiling, casting warm light over the space while leaving the corners in gentle shadow.
"Your server will be with you momentarily," the hostess said with a bow. "Please make yourselves comfortable."
As the screen closed behind her, Cyrus found himself alone with Tessia in a space that suddenly felt much smaller than it had appeared.
"This is nice," he said, glancing around the room. "Private."
"That's what I was hoping for." Tessia moved to one side of the table, settling gracefully onto a cushion. "Somewhere we could talk without interruption."
He took the seat across from her, noting how the lantern light caught in her hair, turning the golden strands into something resembling actual precious metal. "About training?"
Her lips curved into a small smile. "Among other things."
Before he could ask what those "other things" might be, the screen slid open again. A server entered carrying a tray with two small cups and a ceramic flask.
"Welcome to Hibachitei," the young dog man said, setting the items on the table. "We've prepared a selection of our chef's specialties for you this evening, as requested. Would you like to begin with some wine?"
Tessia nodded. "Yes, please."
The server poured the liquid then bowed. "Your first course will arrive shortly. Please enjoy."
After he left, Cyrus raised an eyebrow at Tessia. "As requested?"
"I may have ordered in advance." She lifted her cup. "To save time."
"Efficient." He mirrored her action, raising his own cup in a silent toast before sipping the wine. It tasted clean and crisp, with subtle undertones of fruit. "Good choice."
"Naaza helped." She took another sip, her eyes watching him over the rim of her cup. "She knows more about these things than I do."
"Naaza seems to know a lot of things." He set his cup down. "She gave me quite the interrogation while I was waiting for you."
Tessia's ears twitched in embarrassment. "She's protective. They both are—her and Miach."
"With good reason." He traced the edge of his cup with one finger. "You're important to them."
"And you're important to me."
The statement hung in the air between them, simple and direct. Cyrus looked up to find her watching him steadily, those turquoise eyes clear and unguarded.
"Tessia..."
"You don't have to say anything," she said quickly. "I just... wanted you to know. After today, seeing how you believe in me, how you push me to be better—it matters. You matter."
The sincerity in her voice made something twist in his chest. This was dangerous territory, far more complicated than the straightforward dance of battle.
He was saved from responding by the arrival of their first course—small plates of delicately arranged appetizers that the server described in detail before leaving them alone again.
Tessia picked up her fork, seemingly content to let the moment pass. "This looks amazing."
Grateful for the distraction, Cyrus focused on the food. It was excellent—fresh and flavorful, each bite balanced perfectly. They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the tension gradually easing.
"So," he said eventually, "tell me more about your work at the pharmacy. You mentioned Miach has been teaching you preservation techniques?"
She nodded, visibly relaxing at the change of subject. "Yes, for potions and food both. It's fascinating magic—subtle but powerful."
"Useful skills."
"Very." She gestured with her chopsticks. "I've been experimenting with combining them with my plant magic. The results are promising."
"How so?"
"Well, plants have natural preservation mechanisms already. If I can enhance those through magic while adding Miach's techniques..." Her eyes lit up as she explained, hands moving animatedly. "The applications are endless. Longer-lasting healing potions, emergency rations that don't spoil, even combat applications."
"Combat applications?"
"Mhm." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. "Imagine vines that don't wither after being severed from their source. Or seeds that can lie dormant until activated by specific magical triggers."
Her enthusiasm was infectious. Cyrus found himself leaning in as well, genuinely interested. "You've given this a lot of thought."
"I have time to think during quiet periods at the pharmacy." She smiled. "Not all of us spend our days training with goddesses."
"Fair point." He took another sip of wine. "Though I'd argue developing new magical applications is more impressive than getting thrown around by Quet."
"I don't know about that." Her expression turned thoughtful. "What you did today—the way you move in combat, how you read patterns and anticipate actions—that's its own kind of magic."
The compliment felt different from the usual praise he received. More genuine somehow, rooted in actual observation rather than reputation or appearance.
"It's just practice," he said. "Anyone can learn it."
"No." She shook her head firmly. "It's more than that. It's intuition, instinct. The way you described it earlier—feeling the rhythm of combat like music? That's not something you can teach. You either have it or you don't."
"And you think you don't?"
"I know I don't." She shrugged. "But that's okay. I have other strengths."
"You sell yourself short." He set down his fork. "What you did today with those vine mazes—that was brilliant tactical thinking. Creative application of resources. The mark of a true adventurer."
A pleased blush colored her cheeks. "Thank you."
Their server returned with the main course—grilled fish for Tessia, perfectly seared meat for Cyrus, accompanied by seasonal vegetables and rice. The presentation was as exquisite as the flavors.
As they ate, conversation flowed naturally between them. Tessia shared stories from the pharmacy—Naaza's dry humor, Miach's endless generosity, the regular customers with their quirks and complaints. Cyrus found himself offering tales from his own adventures in return, stories he rarely shared with others.
"Wait," Tessia said, laughing, "you actually stayed in the bath with Ottar?"
"In my defense, I didn't know who he was at the time." Cyrus shook his head at the memory. "Just saw a big guy with boar ears who kept looking at me weird."
"And he didn't kill you on the spot?"
"Came close." He grinned. "But then we talked and he turned out to be a cool guy."
"That's... not what I expected." She tilted her head curiously. "From what I've heard, he's not exactly known for his patience."
"He's not. But he recognizes value when he sees it." Cyrus took a drink of water. "That's what makes him dangerous. He's always learning, always improving. Never satisfied with 'good enough.'"
"Sounds familiar." Her eyes met his over the rim of her cup. "You have that same quality. Never settling, always pushing forward."
"Is that a compliment or a criticism?"
"Both, maybe." She set down her cup. "It's what makes you an excellent teacher. But I wonder if it makes it hard for you to enjoy the present sometimes."
The observation struck closer to home than he would have liked. He considered deflecting with humor, then thought better of it. She deserved honesty.
"Sometimes," he admitted. "It's hard to stay still when you know what's waiting out there. The next challenge, the next level."
"And what happens when you reach the top?"
"The top?" He smiled. "There is no top. Just new horizons."
"That sounds lonely." Tessia leaned forward, her turquoise eyes reflecting the lantern light. "Always chasing the next peak."
"Not lonely." He met her gaze. "Not when you find the right people to climb with."
Her breath caught slightly. He pretended not to notice, instead reaching for the wine bottle. "More?"
"Please." She held out her cup, fingers steady despite the slight flush on her cheeks. "You're different when you drink."
"Oh?" He poured carefully. "Different bad?"
"Different good." She took a sip, watching him over the rim. "More... open. Less guarded."
"Quet says the same thing." He topped off his own cup. "Claims I get cute."
The word rolled off his tongue with exaggerated distaste, drawing a laugh from Tessia.
"She's not wrong." Tessia's eyes danced with amusement. "You've smiled more in the last hour than I've seen in the dungeon."
"Slander." He affected an offended expression. "I smile plenty."
"Your battle smile doesn't count."
"Why not?"
"Because that's not a smile, that's a warning." She gestured with her cup. "Like when a wolf shows its teeth."
He laughed, the sound surprising even himself. "Fair point. Though I'd argue my battle smile has its uses."
"Oh?" Her eyebrow arched delicately. "Do tell."
"Well," he leaned back, wine making him playful, "it's excellent for negotiations. Just ask Rose."
"Your Guild advisor?"
"Mhm. She hates it. Says it makes her paperwork mysteriously disappear when other advisors borrow it."
Tessia's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Poor Rose."
"Indeed. Such a professional tragedy." He adopted a solemn expression.
Their laughter mingled in the warm air between them. Cyrus found himself studying her face—the way happiness transformed her features, turning her usual reserved beauty into something radiant.
"You're staring," she said softly.
"You're worth staring at."
The words slipped out before he could catch them. The wine had loosened his usual filters, but he found he didn't regret their escape. Not when they put that particular look in her eyes.
"Cyrus..." Her voice carried a weight of unspoken things.
"Sorry." He wasn't. "Too forward?"
"No." She shook her head slowly. "Just... unexpected."
"Good unexpected?"
"Yes." She traced the rim of her cup with one finger. "Though I'm not sure if it's you or the wine talking."
"Both. Neither." He shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"Maybe." She looked up at him through her lashes. "Depends on whether you'll remember this conversation tomorrow."
"Trust me," his voice dropped lower, "I'll remember."
Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her cup.
"We should probably head back soon," she said, though she made no move to rise. "It's getting late."
"Is it?" He glanced toward the window. Night had fully claimed the city while they talked, stars peeking through gaps in the clouds. "Shame."
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm not ready for this evening to end." The admission came easier than expected. "Are you?"
She hesitated, then shook her head. "No."
"Then don't let it." He stood, offering his hand across the table. "The night's still young. Walk with me?"
Tessia stared at his outstretched hand, her hand hovered in the space between them. Then, with a grace that made his breath catch, she placed her palm against his.
"Lead the way," she said softly.