They left the med wing in a small procession that looked more ceremonial than it was. Hikari walked half a step behind Raizen, the exact distance where an arm could catch an elbow if it needed to. Kori flanked them at an angle, chatting with the easy pace of someone who had already decided the day was going to go her way.
The corridor breathed a soft, cool draft. Electric veins ran under the glass floor like glowing roots, pulsing the medical tower's slow heartbeat. A few medics glanced up as they passed, the particular look of people who had watched the duel replay on their breaks and did not know whether to comment. One gave Raizen a respectful nod. Another mouthed the word wow at Hikari and pretended she had not when Hikari looked back and gave an awkward little bow.
"Careful," Hikari murmured when Raizen shortened his stride to make the ramp. He did not stumble, but the effort put a fine tremor in his hands.
"I've got it," he said, not sharp, just steady. "Thank you."
"Of course," Kori declared, swiping her wristband to open the exit. "He's a hero. Heroes walk down ramps. They pose. One time Arashi did all three in under five seconds and a sponsor cried."
"I did not cry," said a passing Warden under his breath.
"Not you," Kori called after him. "Different sponsor. Better hair."
The tower's doors parted to an early afternoon that smelled like wet stone and sun-warmed copper. Beyond the walls, Neoshima's vertical layers rose in stacked gardens and steel, threads of transit slicing the distance. It was a city full of towers and tall buildings, with a ton of bridges, somehow resembling the underworks. The med tower's shadow cut a clean blade over the central green where cadets jogged to a whistle that did not quite manage to be in rhythm.
Hikari matched her pace to Raizen's. She offered her arm without looking at him, a small shape of help that could be refused without embarrassment. He let it hover there and kept his balance alone. He felt like he had to.
"So," Kori said, bouncing down the steps two at a time and then politely waiting each time for them to catch up, "what did we learn today? We learned that Raizen has a button marked do not press unless you want the world to smear sideways. We learned that Hikari can paint blue circles around people's bad ideas. We learned that Arashi will never miss a chance to look like a poster. We learned that Keahi has two modes, which are fire and basically more fire. We learned that Iris can be promoted to saint any minute now for handing out heals like festival candy. And if I'm being honest, I've seen better healing. There was one more Phalanx member that had the same ability, and could heal a dozen of people at the same time. We learned that Feris believes in destiny so loudly it gave me a headache. And that Saffi will refuse to participate while looking like she knows something none of us do."
Hikari's mouth curved despite herself. "You are quite unfair to Arashi."
"I am extremely fair to Arashi. I say he is beautiful and he is, in fact, beautiful. See? Fair." Kori clicked her tongue. "Also, you two have fans already. They're arguing whether you are brains and chaos or chaos and chaos. Don't worry. I voted chaos and chaos. I believe in consensus."
Raizen breathed in the faint sun, filtered by the everlasting clouds and the smell of freshly cut grass so sharp it almost squeaked. You could still see some small robots trimming away in a corner where the weeds were still ankle-height. His legs felt like they'd been filled with sand and then asked to pretend they were still legs, but the outside air soothed something that had cramped in the med wing. The golden aftertaste of the dash still haunted his calves like a distant hum. He would live with it. He will learn it on his own terms.
Kori steered them through the east gate into a residential belt that looked like it had been sketched by someone who loved light. Essentially everyone in Neoshima. At the base of the huge skyscrapers and other giant buildings, low houses with wide windows, balconies cuddled in vines, a shared courtyard where someone had strung paper lanterns that would be worth exactly nothing when the sun set and the luminite came up, but which declared stubbornly that they existed to be pretty. "I promised the medics I would return you in one piece," she told Raizen. "So please don't leave your last breath on my steps. That would be rude. Also the paperwork. Hikari would have to fill it out and she would correct the forms while she was filling them and then the system would crash and then IT would cry and then I would have to bring them pastries again to apologize."
"You really like pastries, do you?" Hikari asked, then decided not to add anything else about the paperwork. Kori's place sat at the far corner, a two story wedge with a curved lip of balcony like a smile. The door was old-fashioned wood, real wood, deep brown. Kori pressed her hand on a sensor that sat hidden on the doorknob and shouldered it open with a flourish that made the hinges sigh.
"Behold," she announced, "domestic bliss."
The main room opened in a sweep that pulled all the light with it. Kitchen and living folded together in an open space that felt both lived-in and ready for company. A long counter ran under a line of hanging utensils, an induction top flush with dark stone design, a rack of cups that definitely did not match. Funny how these cups don't match, neither in the underworks or here. The living area kept a low table and a couch that had survived many lives and bore the scars. A plant in the corner had become a small tree despite whatever neglect it had suffered, branches trained around an old practice target that someone had turned into art. A shelf above the media wall held a row of instant photos in mismatched frames, a slight tilt to each like a smile with too many teeth.
"Shoes by the door," Kori said, already kicking hers off and somehow collecting a stray sock from under the couch with a toe. "Mugs are clean unless Arashi washes them. Just kidding! The couch bites. The table wobbles. The floor is your ally if you befriend it."
"Who does the cleaning?" Hikari asked, scanning the room with the ease of someone mentally arranging and dusting.
"Democracy," Kori said. "Which usually means gambling – I mean we choose randomly"
"Which means I have to do it when Kori forgets democracy exists, and dictatorship kicks in" said a voice from the kitchen.
Keahi stood at the counter in a loose tank and dark shorts, flame-red and orange hair tied back at the nape. Her eyes lifted to Raizen and Hikari and then away like she did not want to stare, then back again because staring was clearly unavoidable. She smiled. It was small and earnest.
"You made it," she said. "Hi."
"Hey," Hikari said, warmer than she had meant to be. "This is very nice."
"It is fine," Keahi said, then to Raizen, stumbling over the word as if it had been waiting in her mouth all morning, "You were amazing."
Raizen's face was one step from making an expression resembling a raisin. Compliments did not sit well on him when his legs wanted a chair. He bowed instead, a small one to keep the room from tilting.
"Thank you."
A soft clap sounded from the far end of the couch. Arashi unfolded from the cushions like a page turned. He wore a crisp shirt with the sleeves rolled just so, trousers that had never met a wrinkle, and an expression that usually appeared on people who had been told since childhood that doors opened. He rose with deliberate grace, hair falling into place by habit.
"I will, under protest, agree," Arashi said. "It was astonishing. Refined. Reckless. Barely controlled. Magnificent."
Kori flopped backwards over the arm of the couch so her head hung upside down and pointed at Arashi. "See? I told you: Brooding, posing, and complimenting in one breath. Sponsor tears."
Arashi ignored her. He crossed to Raizen with a measured step and inclined his head in an old gesture that made him look carved. "You were very fast."
"You were very annoying, the distance is very hard to close in with someone like you. Take it as a compliment, or don't" Raizen returned.
Arashi's mouth curved. "We can both be right."
"Sit. Or stand. I can fetch a stool. Or a different chair. Or we have a beanbag but it has its own personality."
"I'll sit, thanks" Raizen conceded. He made it to the couch on his own. The cushions gave like they had been waiting to catch someone exactly his size. Hikari folded herself next to him, too straight backed to fully relax. Kori sat cross-legged on the rug and stole a piece of candied ginger from a jar on the table.
"So," Kori said, speaking around the ginger in a way that would have exasperated a different circle of friends and delighted this one, "house orientation. Attic is yours. Two beds. I would really appreciate if you wouldn't open the boxes with the blue tape. Or the gray cloths. I mean sure, you can open them as long as you pretend you did not and then put it back how you found it but better."
Arashi made a leisurely survey of Raizen's face, subtle enough that it could have been a glance. "You look like you intend to climb stairs out of sheer spite."
"I intend to climb stairs because the beds are upstairs," Raizen tried a smile but failed.
Hikari slid her attention between them like a shuttle on a loom, silently keeping the weave from tangles. "If you need help, I can carry the bag."
"I've got it," Raizen said. He softened it with, "Thank you."
"Obviously," Kori said again, as if the word were a game piece she kept putting down to see how the board reacted. She popped another ginger. "Before the strenuous act of ascending six steps, tour time."
She showed them the kitchen in a sweep of hand and commentary. "Knives are sharp. Like, too sharp. I don't know, it's a weird habit of mine, to make stuff that are supposed to be sharp sharper. And no, Arashi, I'm not talking about butter knives. The ceramic is chipped because he has a vendetta against plates. The fridge has a top shelf labeled "no" and that is for experiments. The bottom shelf is also labeled "no" but that is a lie because it is for snacks and I am weak. Keahi's spice drawer is a trap. Do not sniff the jars. The last person who sniffed the jars has ascended to a better place-"
"Home," Keahi cut her off dryly.
"Yeah, yeah," Kori said, unoffended.