Somewhere between the novelty plasma clocks and the programmable keychains, Kilo lost patience.
"Can't we just get her a nice knife or something?" he asked, holding up a sleek multitool with neon accents.
Sage shook his head without looking up. "She already built a better one."
Aurora paced slowly along the wall of modular devices, eyes tracking a minimalist black box labeled: Temperature-Sensitive Ink Printer – DIY Edition. "It's not about utility. It's about resonance."
Kilo squinted. "What does that even mean?"
Aurora offered a faint shrug. "It means don't get her a knife."
Sage finally pulled something off the shelf—a matte-black data glove with modular fingertip inputs. "She'd probably appreciate this. Could integrate it into her assembly rig."
Aurora gave it a nod of approval. "It's clean. Useful. Kind of boring, but Kai would wear it."
Nyota wasn't there to weigh in.
He'd slipped out twenty minutes ago, after muttering something about needing air. No one questioned it—he wasn't the type to bail without a reason. Still, Sage checked the time, then the door.
When Nyota finally came back, he wasn't carrying a bag. Just a single object, partially wrapped in one of those thin metallic cloths you get from salvage vendors. It was charred in places and looked like it had been pried out of something older than all of them.
"Nyota!" Kilo called out. "What are you getting her?" His eyes dropped to what Nyota was holding—and then he blinked. "What? Did you get her trash?"
"What?" Nyota held it up. The light hit it differently this time. Beneath the blackened edges was the unmistakable silhouette of a drone stabilizer plate—obsolete, outmoded, maybe even illegal to fly in some districts. But Kai would know exactly what it was.
Aurora tilted her head. "What model?"
"Skythe Verge, apparently." Nyota's voice was casual, but he wasn't joking. "At least, that's what I'm reading."
Sage stepped closer. "Where the hell did you find one of those?"
"Back alley, next to a busted vending unit and a crate of e-waste. Someone tried to melt it down, but it survived."
Kilo whistled. "She's gonna love it."
"She'll fix it," Nyota said simply. "Maybe even make it better."
Aurora looked at him, eyes narrowing in that way she did when she saw beneath the surface. "You didn't just find that. You noticed it."
Nyota didn't respond. He didn't have to.
They paid for the rest of the gifts. The others left with crisp boxes and polished bags. Nyota had only the scorched stabilizer tucked under his arm like it was worth more than everything else combined.
Outside, the group lingered by the curb, caught between errands and the weight of the day ahead.
Sage gave the stabilizer another glance. "You sure you're not secretly in love with her?"
"Here we go," Nyota muttered.
Kilo grinned. "You do realize no normal person looks at a scorched drone plate and thinks 'romantic gesture.'"
"It's not romantic," Nyota said, expression flat. "It's precise."
"That's what someone in denial would say," Aurora added smoothly, arms crossed. "Or someone hiding deep emotional attachment under a mountain of logic."
Nyota didn't blink. "It's a good gift. She'll use it."
"Use it how, though?" Kilo asked, dragging out the words.
Nyota gave him a look sharp enough to shut it down—but not so sharp it stopped the smirking.
"What about you?" Sage asked, pivoting. "You never said what you're giving her."
Aurora raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I?"
From her coat pocket, she produced a tiny, crystal-clear tumbler etched with faint electric patterns that shimmered in the light.
Kilo squinted. "That's… a shot glass."
"Mm-hm."
"For Kai?" Sage asked, amused.
Aurora finally looked at them. "It's aspirational."
Nyota let out a soft, rare chuckle.
"She's going to raise an eyebrow," Sage said.
"She raises both when she's intrigued," Aurora replied, slipping the glass back into her pocket with a smirk. "We'll see. And if she doesn't—well, Big Sis will be the one putting it to use."
Sage shook his head. "Nope. Stop calling yourself that."
The moment lingered just long enough for it to feel warm.
Then Nyota checked the time.
"Let's go."
And just like that, they left the noise and neon of the market behind—walking toward the part of the day that none of them could entirely prepare for.
Across the street, half-shadowed beneath the overhang of an old awning, Malik leaned against a rusted beam with his arms crossed. The gift bags, the easy teasing, Nyota's quiet smile—it all played out like a scene he wasn't meant to see.
He didn't move. Just watched.
Yet little did he know, he too, was being observed.
From the rooftops above, Orion stood motionless beneath the pale blaze of the morning sun. The city was loud and bright—wires draped across buildings like tangled webs, wind slicing between alleys and open windows. In the distance, the others walked through the thinning crowd, laughter and conversation trailing behind them like fading echoes.
And just below, beneath the skeletal shadow of a rusted awning, stood Malik.
Orion's eyes narrowed.
The young man didn't move, didn't even shift his stance. He wasn't shopping. He wasn't wandering. He was watching. Intent. Still. Focused.
Orion studied the tilt of Malik's head, the way his arms were folded too tightly across his chest. The gift bags. The conversation. Nyota's small smile. All of it playing out in front of him like something distant and untouchable.
When Nyota happened to glance back—just once—Malik was already gone, slipped from view like vapor.
But Orion remained.
He adjusted his stance only slightly, boots scraping the warm metal of the rooftop. Above him, the sun glared down, but he kept his gaze sharp and steady, locked on where Malik had stood.
He didn't speak to anyone. Didn't call it in.
Just watched the place where shadows still lingered in daylight.
And then, almost inaudibly:
"So. You're watching them now."
A quiet pause.
"Well… Now, I've got my eye on you."
--
The graduation hall buzzed with movement—parents clutching programs, cameras whirring, names echoing faintly through the high rafters as staff tested the comms system. Rows of seats filled in, chatter rising like static before a storm.
Nyota, Sage, Kilo, and Aurora found their section near the middle. Close enough to see Kai walk, far enough not to be pulled into the parent swarm.
Aurora crossed her arms. "So how long before one of us starts crying?"
Sage took a seat beside her, scanning the stage. "Define 'us.'"
Kilo leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. "I'll cry if this thing runs longer than two hours."
Nyota didn't answer. His eyes were on the edge of the platform, tracking the flow of movement behind the scenes.
Elsewhere, Samuel eased into the cushioned folding chair, adjusting the crease of his slacks with one hand as he sat. The breeze in the open-air venue stirred the edge of his slate-gray jacket, which matched the understated polish of his dress shoes. The man looked exactly as he always did—calm, deliberate, observant.
Beside him, Julia smoothed her shawl and took the seat next to him, her heels clicking lightly against the stage platform as she crossed one leg over the other. Her dress shimmered faintly in the sunlight—cream with burgundy accents, quiet markers of wealth well-spent.
"This city's louder than I remember," she murmured, eyes sweeping over the slowly filling venue.
Samuel tilted his head. "It's younger too."
She smiled faintly. "That includes her, I suppose."
"Not for long."
They shared a quiet pause, watching as more guests trickled into the venue. Far ahead, the stage remained empty, framed by floral arrangements and the institution's signature blue banners. The graduates were nowhere to be seen, awaiting the coordinated walk from the far side of the building.
Julia leaned slightly toward her husband. "Think Claudia and Elliot already found their seats?"
"I saw a jacket that looked like Elliot's earlier." Samuel scanned the central row. "You know he dresses like he's got a podium nearby."
She gave a warm laugh. "We really should sit near them."
"We will. There's still time."
Her laugh was soft, amused. "They must've come in early. They've lived here longer than we have. My, three years went fast—Fazian adjusted faster than I thought he would."
Samuel gave a small nod. "That boy's always had charm. Kai used to call him 'everyone's favorite cousin.'"
"Hard to believe they were ever that close."
"They were. Until the world got a little wider."
"I suppose. I'm glad we came," Julia murmured.
"You bought her a house in another city," Samuel said mildly with a chuckle. "We were always coming."
Some distance away, Claudia leaned slightly to the side in her chair, adjusting her tailored jacket—seafoam green over satin, her diamond studs catching the warm light from above. Her hair, meticulously coiled and pinned, gave her a graceful presence that blended elegance with quiet control. She squinted across the rows. "I think I spotted Julia earlier. Left side. Her posture gives her away before the hair does."
Elliot, dapper in a navy blazer and crisp dress shirt, followed her gaze. "And there's Samuel beside her. Still looks like a man who reads city forecasts with his morning coffee."
Claudia smirked. "And argues with them."
The pair sat comfortably, having arrived early enough to claim a good vantage near the center aisle—the one that would later serve as the path for the Polaris graduates.
"He's not saying much this week," Claudia said gently.
Elliot nodded. "Graduation hits some kids sideways. Even the ones who think they're ready."
"He internalizes it," she said. "But accepting that internship under you—"
"—That was big," Elliot finished. "I think he knows he needs something steady right now. Some way forward."
Claudia gave a quiet nod. "Something that reminds him he's not floating."
"He's not," Elliot replied. "And he's going to realize that, eventually. That sadness… it's just the echo of something important ending. The internship might help him start thinking more about what comes next."
Claudia's smile was subtle but warm. "Maybe even give him a sense of pride again."
Elliot glanced down the rows. "We'll give him time. He's still growing."
"We all are," Claudia said. Then she reached for her clutch bag, her tone lightening. "Now, how long before Samuel and Julia come over here so we can argue about seat placement?"
Elliot chuckled. "If they don't find us in five minutes, I'm waving Samuel down like we're at a train station."
Behind the main hall's sweeping curtains, an auxiliary corridor bustled with quiet motion. Lined with modular seating, water stations, and racks of pressed robes, this was the "ready station"—a temporary holding space for graduates before they'd make their loop to the front and begin their procession down the central aisle.
Graduates milled about in sleek navy robes, each with a tassel and silver-accented sash denoting their concentration. Laughter and last-minute grooming passed between clusters of friends.
Fazian adjusted his cuffs, barely listening as Ethan nudged him.
"You triple-check your collar again, man?" Marcus asked, smirking. "What, expecting to get scouted during the walk?"
"Can't help it," Fazian muttered, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. "I feel like if I blink too long I'll miss something."
Marcus, a little more mellow, gave a side glance. "You look fine, bro. You've been fine. Except in the head."
Marcus elbowed Ethan, but Fazian's gaze had already wandered—to a quiet corner of the room.
There she was.
Kai.
Still. Composed. Her chin lifted in that precise, thoughtful way she always did when her brain was ahead of the room. For a moment, Fazian just watched her. Then he exhaled and stepped away.
Marcus and Ethan looked at one another, sharing a wordless moment of understanding. Ethan folded his arms. "Think he'll say what he really wants to this time?"
Marcus shrugged. "Think she'll let him?"
Fazian slowed as he approached. "Kai."
She turned toward him, giving a polite smile that was more reflex than warmth. "Hey."
There was a pause. Then:
"You ready?" he asked, voice a little unsteady.
Kai nodded. "I've been ready."
He scratched the back of his neck, eyes shifting nervously. "Look—I'm not trying to make things weird. I just… before we go out there and everything changes for real, I thought maybe we could talk. Not argue. Just… talk."
She didn't answer right away. Her fingers were lightly gripping the ends of her sleeves. Not tense, just thoughtful.
"I've been thinking about things a lot," Fazian continued. "How we used to talk without thinking. No filters. No silences. I don't know how we got so tangled, but…" He struggled to find the right words. "I miss it. I miss when we didn't have to guess where we stood."
Kai blinked, visibly moved. She opened her mouth to respond.
"Faze… I—"
But a hand suddenly clasped her shoulder.
"Kai! Come take a picture with us!" a classmate called.
Another waved her over. "We're doing one last big group shot! You're in it!"
She faltered. Eyes pulled away from Fazian, hesitation curling in her breath.
"I—wait, just—" she looked back at him, uncertain. "Give me a sec."
He gave a small nod, the moment already slipping.
Kai took a few steps toward the group but didn't make it far before Naomi intercepted her, eyeing her curiously.
"Forget all that. I saw the whole thing."
Kai looked over her shoulder. "What?"
Naomi smirked slightly. "So? Finally patched it up?"
Kai exhaled. "Not yet. I was about to say something but—" she gestured toward the gathering students.
Naomi glanced at Fazian in the distance, who was now quietly shifting into his assigned line. "I don't mean to rush you, but, hurry up…" She sang sarcastically. "And remember—if anyone can untangle it, it's you. Just don't let it fester any longer than it already has."
Kai gave a small nod and quickly moved in Fazian's direction.
He was just turning away when she called softly, "Faze."
He turned. Surprised.
"I'll explain later, okay?" she said quickly. "I want to."
Before he could respond—
"Line up!" a voice called. Staff members were motioning for order. "We're beginning the processional loop. All graduates to formation!"
Kai looked toward the group already filing into place. She met Fazian's eyes one more time, nodding. "After this."
Then she turned and stepped into the stream of navy-robed figures. Fazian stood still for a beat before slipping into the flow behind her, their paths running parallel, close—but not quite connected.
--
A gentle hush swept across the auditorium as the lights dimmed just slightly. The curtain at the front of the stage remained closed, but all attention turned toward the rear of the room—toward the open double doors where the graduates began to appear at last.
Rows of them filed in, dressed in dark navy robes with silver sashes that shimmered in the overhead lights. The music shifted into a slow orchestral swell, and with proud, practiced steps, the Polaris students began their march down the central aisles, between the converging rows of seated guests.
Kai emerged midway down the column, her cap pulled snug, silver tassel drifting gently over her cheek. Her pace was steady, her eyes forward.
Seated several rows back on the left, Nyota straightened immediately. "There she is," he said quietly.
Aurora leaned a little forward, smiling as she spotted Kai. "There's our prodigy."
"Hey," Kilo nudged Sage. "She looks good."
"Of course she does," Sage murmured, watching her walk. "She always looks like she knows what she's doing."
Nyota's eyes didn't leave her.
She hadn't seen them. Not really. But she didn't need to. She knew. Knew how to steady a team in the middle of chaos. Knew when to stay quiet and when to act. Knew how to carry herself in front of an entire auditorium like she belonged there—and somehow, made others believe they belonged, too.
He wanted to call out. Wanted to wave. But some part of him—one part rational, one part something else entirely—held back. He watched instead, letting the moment root itself somewhere deep in his chest.
"Think she sees us?" Aurora whispered, craning slightly.
"No," Nyota replied, gaze still locked on Kai. "But she knows we're here."
And that was enough.
From a closer center row, Julia leaned sideways to whisper across Claudia. "There she is. Do you see her?"
Samuel, already seated upright with a quiet poise, nodded once. "Front half of the line. She's walking smooth."
Claudia smiled softly. "She's grown so much."
Elliot shifted beside her, raising his eyebrows faintly. "Fazian's just a few behind her. There he is."
Julia glanced across Claudia again, her voice warm. "How's he holding up?"
"He's trying," Claudia said, watching her son's stride carefully. "He's been quieter than usual, but… I think the internship will give him some grounding. He needs to look forward."
"He will," Elliot added. "Structure helps him. Focus will come."
The four parents settled quietly, watching as Kai, Fazian, and the other graduates made their loop toward the front of the auditorium. They curved down the side aisles, then up along the center aisle's path—a long and ceremonial approach to the stage itself.
Back in their row, Kilo turned toward Nyota with a grin.
"Now's your moment to wave. Maybe she'll raise one eyebrow at you."
Nyota exhaled, dry. "I'm not waving."
"Because you're too cool," Aurora murmured.
"No," Sage muttered, "because he's frozen."
The group chuckled under their breath as the graduates reached the edge of the stage, preparing to ascend once the curtain lifted. The energy in the room shifted again—anticipation threaded with finality.
It was finally happening.
--
The graduates were released into the reception hall just outside the auditorium—a wide, high-ceilinged space bustling with conversation and warm reunions. Parents embraced children. Teachers shook hands. Old friends weaved through clusters of people to find one another.
Kai was caught in waves of congratulations. A few students from her engineering classes gave her short hugs, tossing in proud smiles and scattered praise. Her chemistry teacher offered a firm handshake and a fond farewell—telling her that any university would be lucky to have her.
She nodded, thanked them all, but her mind felt like it was drifting a step behind her body. Like she was smiling through a fog.
Then she spotted them—her parents, standing just past the edge of the crowd, waiting with that practiced patience that somehow made them stand out in a sea of movement. Her father gave a subtle wave as she approached, and her mother's expression had already softened into the proud sort of smile that made Kai's chest tighten.
"There she is," Samuel said warmly, pulling her in with one arm as soon as she was close. "New Jericho's finest."
Kai let herself sink into the brief embrace, her head brushing the lapel of his dark coat. "Hey, Dad."
Julia stepped forward next, adjusting the collar of Kai's gown before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You walked like you built the stage yourself," she teased. "How does it feel?"
"Unreal," Kai said. "But… really good."
"You earned it," Samuel replied. "You made the move, you made the most of it, and now you've made it out the other side."
Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut in.
"Well if it isn't the parents of New Jericho's favorite brainiac."
Naomi stepped in smoothly, already grinning, her hands tucked into the pockets of her light jacket.
Julia smiled. "Naomi! There you are—we thought we saw you in the crowd earlier."
"Couldn't miss this," Naomi said, giving both parents brief hugs in turn. "You two raised a legend."
Samuel gestured toward Kai. "She got here on her own legs. We just handed her the keys."
"She didn't crash the house," Naomi added with a playful smirk, "so I think you both did great."
"She built the house," Julia said with a proud tilt of her head. "We just paid the mortgage."
Kai rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of herself.
Naomi leaned in then, lowering her voice just enough for only Kai to hear. Her hands gently found her shoulders, and her tone shifted, more serious. "Find. Him. Now."
Kai blinked, distracted. "What?"
Deadpan, Naomi pointed in Fazian's direction.
Kai spotted Fazian not far off, standing by a window and talking to Ethan and Marcus.
"Quit wasting time!" Naomi demanded. "Now go, and you better make sure he knows you tried."
Kai opened her mouth to respond, but a shout from a nearby friend pulled her name through the air, and she turned instinctively. By the time she glanced back, Naomi was already waving her off.
"It was nice seeing you two again, Mr. and Mrs. Watson," Naomi bowed. "Let's celebrate together sometime later, okay?" She waved energetically before slipping into the crowd again.
"Sure, we'll see you—" As Kai's parents waved Naomi goodbye, Kai made her way to Fazian again, weaving through the crowd until she reached him.
"Fazian," she said.
He turned. His expression softened at once. "Finally," he joked, but his voice held something quieter underneath—relief, maybe, or fatigue.
Ethan and Marcus exchanged a glance. "We'll catch up with you later," Marcus said, patting Fazian's shoulder before the two of them wandered off.
Kai watched them go before shifting her weight, folding her hands in front of her. "Thanks for waiting."
"I wasn't sure if you were going to come over," Fazian said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You looked… busy. Or maybe like you didn't want to."
Kai didn't answer right away. She looked past him toward the window, where the sunlight angled across the floor in lazy golden streaks. The noise of the crowd thinned a little around them, as if offering a momentary bubble of space.
"Yeah. I'm sorry. I've been going through things," she said finally. Her voice was low, steady. "I'm not trying to be cryptic, I just… I don't know how to explain all of it. Not right now."
Fazian nodded slowly. "You don't have to."
Kai looked at him then. "I still want to, eventually. I just don't want you to think I was ignoring you. Or avoiding you. I wasn't. Not really."
"I know," he said. He meant it.
"I mean it," she said. "For the silence. For disappearing. I thought I was protecting something—myself, maybe. Or you. But all I did was make things harder."
Fazian didn't speak right away, but his gaze held hers.
Kai continued. "I wasn't trying to shut you out. I just didn't know how to explain what I was going through, and the longer I've waited, the harder it's gotten." Her gaze lowered to the ground.
He nodded slowly. "I know that feeling."
She smiled faintly, then looked down again. "I guess I've been figuring stuff out," she added. "Myself. The future. All of it. And I don't know how to bring people into this mess without dragging them through it."
There was a silence between them. Not cold—just honest.
"I've known you since we were toddlers. You never had to figure it out alone, Kai."
"That's what I want to believe, but…"
"What's this 'stuff?'" Fazian asked gently, but his words weren't loaded. Just curious. Just concerned.
Kai's mouth parted like she was about to answer—really answer. Her chest tightened.
I could just tell him. I could let it all out.
About Zteel. About Noriko. About the nights she'd snuck out in the middle of high-alert lockdowns. The near-misses, the guilt, the weight of every impossible decision.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
Instead, she exhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward the floor again. "It's complicated. A lot of it's personal, but… not just that. It's bigger than me."
Fazian looked at her, waiting. Listening.
She forced herself to meet his eyes. "There are rules I'd be breaking if I said too much. Not just social stuff—real consequences. I don't want to lie to you, but I also don't want to put you at risk by knowing things you're not supposed to."
His brow furrowed, concern flickering behind his gaze. "You're not in trouble, are you?"
"No," she said quickly. Then again, slower: "Not exactly."
That didn't comfort him, but he nodded.
"I want to tell you. I really do." Her voice was firm now, but quiet. "I just need more time. I'm figuring it out. Still trying to be smart about it."
Fazian studied her for a long moment, then gave a small nod. "Okay. Smart's all I've ever known you as, so," he nodded confidently. "I trust you."
She smiled faintly, then looked down. "I'm going to try. From now on, I mean. To be more open. To say what I'm thinking, even if it's messy. You deserve that much."
"That's all I needed to hear," he said, his voice soft. "I don't need every detail. I just need to know you're still there."
"I am," she said. "Even if I don't always show it."
She turned briefly, then looked back. "I'll talk to you more after. I promise."
Fazian gave her a gentle smile. "I'll be here."
Kai hesitated a moment, then gave him a hug. It caught him by surprise at first, but he slowly wrapped his arms around her, returning the gesture. His grip was warm, grounding.
For a second, it felt safe.
She pulled back just enough to look at him. "Thanks for not giving up on me."
"Unfortunately, I don't think I could, even if I tried."
There was something in the way he said it that made Kai's heart ache—not with guilt exactly, but with the bittersweet knowledge that she couldn't keep this up forever. Not the secrecy. Not the distance. But not the truth either… not yet.
A few yards away, past the thinning crowd of graduates and relatives, Zteel moved quietly through the atrium. They walked with intent, eyes scanning the space for Kai. Among them, Nyota was the first to spot her.
"There," he said, nodding toward the far side of the hall.
They slowed. From their distance, they couldn't hear anything being said—only the sight of Kai, her arms around a boy they didn't recognize.
Nyota's breath hitched for half a second. His gaze lingered on the way she leaned into the hug, the quiet familiarity in it. Not like strangers. Not like teammates. Like someone who knew her, really knew her.
His jaw tensed slightly, but he said nothing.
Aurora noticed. "Hm. A friend."
"Yeah," Nyota muttered. He wasn't angry. Not really. Just… thrown.
Because in that moment, he remembered:
There was more to Kai's life than helping Zteel.
She had a family. She had friends. She had people who saw her as a daughter, a classmate, someone normal.
She was living more than one life—and that was her key struggle. Balancing them. Choosing what to show and what to bury. Holding the weight of both worlds in her hands like it wouldn't eventually crush her.
"Damn," Kilo mumbled under his breath. He looked over to Nyota, who bore an unmistakable look of disappointment on his face.
"Come on," said Sage gently, his voice low. "Let her have this moment."
Nyota nodded, eyes still fixed on the two of them. "Yeah."
He didn't say what he was thinking—that even when they were fighting side by side, even when she laughed with them, bled with them, saved lives with them—rare as those moments were—there were still pieces of her that didn't belong to Zteel. Maybe never would.
And maybe that was the point.
They turned away, giving Kai her space, and continued down the hall to wait.
They turned away, giving Kai her space, and continued down the hall to wait.
Aurora lingered a moment before following the others. She glanced back once toward the courtyard where Kai and Fazian stood, still locked in quiet conversation. There was a strange tenderness to the moment—one that didn't quite belong to Zteel.
About five minutes later, Kai found them waiting near the windows. Her steps were lighter now, but something unreadable still hovered behind her eyes.
"Hey," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Sorry I took so long."
Kilo cracked a grin. "What, you think we're not used to waiting on you by now?"
Sage gave a small shrug. "You're here. That's enough."
She smiled softly, then wrapped Aurora in a hug first, tight and full of weight.
"You guys came," she said, her voice muffled by Aurora's shoulder.
"Of course we did," Aurora whispered, hugging her back fiercely. "Wouldn't miss it."
Kai smiled, stepping back, then gave Sage a shoulder squeeze and bumped knuckles with Kilo. When she turned to Nyota, there was a brief pause—but he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her without hesitation. It was warm, steady, like standing beside a power conduit that thrummed just beneath the skin.
"I saw you," she whispered against his shoulder.
"I figured that," he said.
Then Aurora clapped her hands once. "Okay! Gift time."
Aurora broke the silence. "Okay, enough warmth. We got you stuff."
Kai blinked. "You what?"
"Hell yeah, we did," Kilo said, reaching into the large canvas bag slung over his back. "Superstore haul."
He handed her a wrapped parcel first—slightly crumpled paper around a sturdy, leather-bound journal with soft edges and a metallic clasp.
Kai opened it and immediately recognized the insignia embossed into the cover—an aerospace guild she'd admired as a kid. "This is… I can't believe they still make these."
"They don't," Kilo said, smug. "That's the last one that wasn't sun-bleached. I pulled it from the locked case when the store rep wasn't looking."
Kai laughed, holding it like it might disappear. "You're the worst."
"You're welcome," he said, clearly pleased.
Aurora stepped up next, holding out a small velvet pouch with zero ceremony. "Here. From me."
Kai opened it and pulled out a sleek, faintly shimmering shot glass. Etched around the rim were delicate electric filaments, forming loose wave patterns that caught the light in shifting arcs.
"…Thank you," Kai said, tilting it in her fingers. "But I—uh—I don't really have much use for this."
Aurora raised a brow. "Not yet, you don't."
Kai laughed. "You're impossible."
Aurora reached into her coat and pulled out a folded photo print as well. It showed the five of them—Kai, Kilo, Aurora, Sage, and Nyota—standing on a roof at dusk, the city lights below painting them in warm tones. Across the bottom, Aurora had scrawled in clean block lettering: You'll always have this life, too.
Kai went still.
She folded the picture carefully, pressing it to her chest for a second before tucking it into the front of her coat.
Sage handed her the next gift—still wrapped, but smaller and heavier than the rest. "Here. Saw it, figured it was something you'd actually use."
Inside was a multi-adapter toolkit—magnetic heads, burn-proof casing, collapsible into a single bar. The kind of thing only someone who spent long hours fixing things would appreciate.
Kai ran her fingers over the casing. "This is incredible. This is… actually useful."
"See?" Sage said. "Useful wins."
"I'm sensing a theme," she said, holding the journal, toolkit, and shot glass in her arms.
"Too many more gifts and you'll need a second trip," Kilo teased, reaching to take a few items from her to carry.
Nyota stepped forward last. "I didn't buy anything," he said, his voice quieter than the others'. "But I found this."
He unwrapped a small cloth to reveal a stabilizer plate—battered, cleaned, but clearly functional.
Kai's eyes widened. "Where did you find this?"
"Behind the store," Nyota said. "Near the vending wreck and a crate of scrap."
Her breath caught. "A Skythe Verge drone! Early gen—pre-military. One of my favorite models! How did you know?!"
He gave a slow shrug. "I didn't."
Kai looked at him like he'd just handed her a memory she'd forgotten she missed. Her face lit up, bright and honest in a way that stunned even her.
Then she stepped forward and hugged him again, tighter than before. Nyota stood there for a second, surprised, before he wrapped his arms around her with quiet certainty.
Her smile stayed with him even after she let go.
Kai took the stabilizer like it was made of glass. "This is perfect. I haven't built anything in months."
"Good," he said. "Now you have a reason to start again."
She looked around at them—at the mismatched pile of gifts, at their tired eyes, at the quiet steadiness of their presence—and couldn't speak.
Kai lingered a moment longer with the stabilizer plate in her hands, thumb tracing the edge like it was a rare artifact. Then she looked up at the group and stepped back.
"I should get going," she said. "My parents are waiting—and I'll probably be stuck celebrating all night. Extended family, friends of friends, old neighbors… you know how it is."
Sage gave a lazy grin. "Sounds like a social nightmare. But hey, you earned it."
"Yeah," she said softly, a small laugh catching at her throat. "It feels weird saying that out loud."
"You should enjoy it," Kilo said. "Take the win. We'll be here when you come back."
Aurora leaned back on her heels, arms crossed. "Go be normal for a little while. You've been carrying enough for ten people."
Kai smiled. "Thanks. Really. All of you. I didn't expect… this. Any of this." She looked down at the journal Kilo had given her, still pressed against her side. "I know I've been busy. It's just been difficult balancing everything."
"You don't have to figure it out all at once," Nyota said quietly. "Start with tonight."
She met his gaze, then nodded.
"Take your time," Sage said. "We'll still be here. Probably arguing about dinner."
Kai shook her head, half-smiling, and finally walked off—gifts in her arms.
The others watched her go until she disappeared into the crowd.
And then they, too, turned and left—quiet, thoughtful, and a little more patient than before.
--
The apartment was still.
Outside, the city buzzed faintly—distant hums of cars and the occasional burst of laughter from a late-night gathering down the block. But inside, the lights were off. Sage and Kilo were already asleep in the other room, their breaths slow and steady through the thin walls.
Nyota lay on his back in the dark, eyes fixed on the ceiling above his bed. A faint sliver of neon from the street outside cut across the room, casting a fractured line across the ceiling panels like a scar.
He blinked slowly. Tried not to think about it.
But he saw it again anyway—Kai, standing close to that boy. Arms around him. The way she'd smiled when she pulled back. The way he'd looked at her like… like she was the only thing in the world that made sense.
He didn't know who the boy was. Had never seen him before. But the hug had told him enough. The softness of it. The familiarity.
Nyota turned his head to the side, jaw tightening, then relaxed again with a slow breath.
He wasn't angry. Not really. Just… reminded.
Reminded that Kai had a life beyond theirs. A life filled with faces and memories he'd never know. Family. Friends. People who hadn't trained beside her or fought with her—but who still had pieces of her heart anyway.
And that was the part that stung. Not jealousy. Not even loss.
Just the quiet ache of knowing there were doors in Kai's world he couldn't open. And maybe never would.
He turned onto his side and closed his eyes, but the image stayed—sharp and lingering behind his eyelids.
There was more to Kai's life than Zteel. That was her struggle.
And tonight, it was his too.