Steam curled from the dented kettle like a tame ghost. Raizen coaxed it off the flame and tried not to burn his fingers as he poured. Hikari sat on the windowsill with her knees hugged close, hair a small halo in the lamplight, watching the Underworks breathe beyond the slit of glass. On the table, a heavy purse sat where it had been dramatically thumped down ten minutes ago, still pulsing with Obi's pride.
"Did I mention the roar?" Obi asked from the rug, sprawled like a cat that owned the room. "It started as a breeze and then - boom - storm! Obviously. There was cheering. A little weeping. At one point I'm pretty sure a man proposed to me. I declined because I'm married to the craft."
"Married to your mouth," Raizen muttered.
"That too," Obi said cheerfully. I'm not saying I'm a local legend, but if someone scrawls my face on a wall I won't complain."
Across the room, Takeshi sat in his chair - the one that wasn't his until it was - and let the noise settle around him like a coat. His mechanical hand rested open on his knee; his flesh fingers turned a pin as his eyes tracked the web on the wall. New threads. New notes. He didn't speak, but the set of his shoulders said he was listening.
"Oh," Obi flashed a grin, Also, I had a visitor. After everything."
Raizen's eyebrows went up. "The big guy? The one with the… creative spelling?"
Obi waggled a finger. "Tempting, but no. Cinderette. Cloak, mask, dramatics. No mask this time."
Hikari's head tilted, curious. "What did she want?"
"To see the forge," Obi said, trying and failing to sound casual. "Pretended she was judging my tools. Was OBVIOUSLY judging my face. We discussed vents. She left before I could offer noodles. Tragic."
Raizen laughed. "Would you look at that! "The smith and the… gas? smoke grenade!" That's how you'll be known to history"
"Anyway." Obi stretched on the floor until his shoulders popped. "So. How was your day not being a champion?"
"Brutal," Raizen said.
"don't listen to him, he's getting way better" Hikari added
"Hey, you shouldn't be the one to judge! You get everything almost perfectly!"
The small conversation was cut by a noise: the door knocked and swung inward before anyone spoke. Louissa came in with the night on her shawl and her basket on her arm, as always, carrying warmth the way other people carried knives.
"Evening," she said, and the room believed her.
Obi saluted with his cup. "Granny! Tell them I'm magnificent!"
"You're full of noise, that's for sure" she said, smiling, setting the basket down. A small jar that might have been jam. "Eat," she added automatically, and then, to Raizen and Hikari, "Listen."
They straightened without thinking about it. Even Takeshi lifted his gaze from the strings.
"You want the Lotus Academy," Louissa said. Not a question. She watched the way they didn't deny it and nodded as if something inside her had clicked into place.
"Good. Then you'll need more than will."
"Luminite…?" Raizen said, the word tasting expensive.
"Stupidly," Louissa agreed. "Hoarded by soft-handed men who polish their power and call it virtue. Purer cuts deeper. Pair it with what your life can give it, and you make something that ends Nyxes instead of inconveniencing them."
Obi leaned in, curiosity winning over performance. "Last year the exam was… what, riddles?"
"Tons of paper and memory," Louissa said. "They needed minds for the Vanguard halls - people who can watch a map and feed the right fire to the right ruin. This year… rumor says Division One is gone."
The small room flexed, as if the air had found a colder seam. Obi's grin faded a notch. Hikari's fingers tightened on the windowsill. Raizen's jaw worked.
"Wiped?" Takeshi asked, voice like a closed door.
"No names. No bodies anyone will admit to," Louissa said. "But the gaps are there, and when the strong disappear, cities invent exams with conflict in them."
"So, a combat trial" Raizen said, steady, though his eyes burned brighter.
"Or something that pretends to be and then isn't, you never know" Louissa replied. "Either way, you won't even reach the door without steel that sings." She tapped the basket. "I can give you a road."
Raizen leaned forward. "Say it."
"There's a man," the granny continued. "Marcus Valerius. Fresh coat, clean hands, public smile. He came down to do what officials do when they think the Underworks is a room they can rent. He keeps a bodyguard stitched to his side. He is scheduled to meet someone soon."
"Where?" Takeshi asked, already setting the pin he held against the map.
Louissa's eyes sharpened. You could see the other life under the shawl - the broker who could make whispers walk. "Where shady conversations pretend not to be deals. The Maw."
They'd heard the name enough to know not to ask for directions. The Maw wasn't on a map; it was in a tone of voice. A low ceiling. Dim lights that hid more than they lit. Dangerous men trying to look bored.
"What's on the table?" Hikari asked quietly.
"Luminite," Louissa said. "Not a vault, but enough. He'll carry a sample to prove his leverage. He plans to sell to someone uglier than his reflection."
Obi whistled low. "So… we borrow the sample before leverage learns to count."
Raizen's smile came crooked and quick. "We scout first. Entrances, exits, roofline. If there's a vent-"
"Windows, crowd flow, where the bodyguard stands when he thinks he's not standing," Hikari added, eyes unfocusing in the way that meant she was building a room in her head.
"Or," Obi said, lifting a finger, "and hear me out - walk up and grab it."
Both stared at him. Raizen raised an eyebrow. Takeshi made a sound that might have been a laugh.
"Simple," Obi insisted, wounded and theatrical. "Elegant."
"Suicidal," Raizen said, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
"Not if you add style," Obi said. "Style blinds. People forget to hold their pockets."
Louissa's smile deepened into her eyes. "You three should not be allowed in the same plan," she said fondly. "And yet."
Takeshi pushed a pin into the web with a small, decisive click. "You need three things," he said. "Eyes. Time. The way they expect, and the way you take instead."
"I have eyes," Obi said. "Time and trickery pending."
Louissa shook her head. "Tomorrow night," she echoed, "because Valerius moved his meeting forward. Word came late. It's either a trap or a gift. I don't like either. But a gift feeds more people."
Obi tapped the purse on the table, then tapped his chest. "Then tomorrow," he declared, "we go shopping."
"Unnoticed, if possible" Takeshi said, and looked back at the web. The Moirai's name sat in one corner, written small, underlined twice. He added a thread to it without comment.
They ate while the kettle kept the room kind. The jam turned out to be something citrus and sweet, and Obi pretended not to like it so he could steal a second spoon. Raizen tried to pay Obi for the pastries he had brought earlier, with Obi's own coin, and got cuffed on the ear. Hikari giggled at a face Obi insisted was not a face but "a heroic expression of triumph." Takeshi cleaned a screw that didn't need cleaning and listened to his makeshift family fill the space where the Underworks couldn't reach.
When the lamplight slid lower on the walls, the plan sat between them - unfinished, unsafe, alive.
Obi hooked the winner's tokens on his belt, tested their pull like a smith testing work, and grinned at the tiny window. "The Maw won't know what hit its appetite."
No one had to say where they'd meet, or what to bring. The room held those answers for them.
Outside, the Underworks muttered in its sleep. Above, the Tangle hummed and swayed.
The Maw awaited. Like a mouth in the dark.