Morning light streamed through the windows, painting the apartment in shades of gold and warmth.
Yuuta woke before anyone else.
It was a habit born of necessity—years of working early shifts, of studying before classes, of living alone and learning that no one would make him breakfast except himself. His body knew the rhythm even when his mind was still tangled in dreams.
He slipped out of bed carefully.
Quietly.
Elena's tiny hand was still wrapped around his arm, and he had to gently, slowly, painfully slowly extract himself from her grip without waking her. She stirred once, murmured something about "big kitty," and settled back into sleep.
Beside her, Erza lay still.
Her silver hair fanned across the pillow like spilled moonlight. Her face—usually so cold, so controlled—was soft in sleep. Peaceful. Almost... human.
Yuuta stared for a moment longer than he should have.
Then he went to the kitchen.
---
The kitchen was small, familiar, comforting.
He moved through it automatically—opening cabinets, gathering ingredients, setting pans on the stove. Breakfast needed to be good today. Filling. Something that would last through the morning and into the early afternoon.
He'd forgotten to leave food for them before.
He wouldn't make that mistake again.
As he worked, his eyes drifted to the corner where he'd left the shopping bags last night.
They were... different.
Not moved exactly. Just... shifted. The arrangement wasn't quite how he remembered leaving them. The bags were slightly more organized, more aligned, like someone had touched them and then tried to make them look untouched.
"Hmm." Yuuta frowned, whisk in hand. "Did I place them like that? I was really tired last night. Maybe I just don't remember."
He shook his head.
Probably nothing.
Then another thought hit him.
"Oh shit."
The pastries.
He'd bought donuts and pastries from Mrs. Kin—a whole box of them, meant for Elena and Erza. And in his exhaustion last night, he'd completely forgotten to put them in the refrigerator.
They'd be ruined by now.
Spoiled.
Wasted.
He set down the whisk and hurried to where he'd left the pastry bag.
Found it among the others.
Opened it with dread.
Empty.
"Empty?!"
He stared into the bag, hoping somehow the pastries would magically appear. They didn't.
"I definitely forgot to put them in the fridge. I remember—I was so tired, I just left everything and collapsed."
He turned to the refrigerator.
Opened it.
And there, neatly arranged on the middle shelf, sat the pastry box.
Perfectly intact.
Perfectly placed.
"What..." Yuuta blinked. "What is happening to me? Am I losing my memory? Did I actually put them away and just forget?"
He grabbed the box.
Opened it.
The donuts were fresh. The pastries were perfect. Everything was exactly as Mrs. Kin had packaged them.
"Maybe I should take the day off," he muttered. "I'm clearly losing my mind."
---
Breakfast came together beautifully.
Honey pie—warm and golden, fresh from the oven, with a glaze that caught the morning light and scattered it like tiny sunbeams across the golden crust. Fresh fruit arranged in a colorful pattern on a ceramic plate, strawberries and blueberries and slices of orange creating something almost too pretty to eat. Nuts toasted lightly and sprinkled with salt, adding a savory counterpoint to all the sweetness. A simple drink poured into three glasses, light and refreshing, chosen specifically to complement the meal without overwhelming it.
He arranged everything on the table with the careful attention of someone who had learned that small gestures mattered, that beauty in the ordinary could make even a cramped apartment feel like home.
Stepped back.
Admired his work.
Not bad, he thought, a small smile tugging at his lips. Not bad at all.
The table looked almost inviting. Almost like the kind of place where a family might gather and laugh and share stories. Almost like everything he'd never had but somehow found himself building anyway.
The bedroom door opened.
Erza emerged.
She moved with the same regal grace she always carried, even here in this tiny apartment in this strange world—back straight as a blade, chin lifted in defiance of anyone who might judge her, eyes cool and assessing as they swept across the room without pausing on anything in particular. She didn't acknowledge him. Didn't glance at the table he'd spent an hour preparing. Didn't give any indication that he existed at all.
She walked straight to the bathroom.
Closed the door.
Yuuta heard water running, the familiar sounds of someone going through their morning routine in a world where even the simplest tasks required magic.
Good morning to you too, he thought wryly, shaking his head.
A quick note for curious readers:
How does Erza brush her teeth? She doesn't own a toothbrush. She's never bought one. The answer is simple: dragon magic. She creates an ice brush with her power—it works exactly like a real toothbrush, cleaning and freshening just as effectively. When she's done, it melts away. No evidence. No waste. Just magic.
Thank you for your attention to this important detail.
The bathroom door opened again.
Erza emerged, her face slightly damp from washing, her silver hair slightly tousled in a way that made her look almost human, almost approachable, almost like someone who might actually smile one day. Droplets of water clung to her skin, catching the light like tiny diamonds scattered across porcelain.
She still didn't look at him.
Still didn't acknowledge the table.
Still moved through the world like he didn't exist.
"Papa... Mama..."
Elena's sleepy voice drifted from the bedroom, soft and warm and full of the innocent trust that only children possess.
Yuuta moved before he thought.
His feet carried him to the bedroom door, through it, to the small figure rubbing her eyes in the tangle of blankets. She looked up at him with those violet eyes—still half-closed, still half-asleep, still full of the dreamy confusion of someone who hadn't quite decided to wake up yet—and reached out her tiny arms.
"Papa..."
He scooped her up.
She weighed nothing.
Felt like everything.
"Good morning, little princess." He carried her to the bathroom, where Erza was still standing, still not looking at him, still pretending he didn't exist. "Let's get you cleaned up."
He gently washed Elena's face with a warm cloth, wiping away the last traces of sleep, revealing the bright, curious child beneath.
She made small, sleepy sounds of protest, scrunching up her nose, turning her face away.
He ignored them with the practiced ease of someone who had done this many times before.
Brushed her tiny teeth—carefully, thoroughly, making sure to reach every corner, every surface, every spot where sugar might hide. Her mouth was a strange and wonderful mix of dragon and human heritage: sharp little fangs mixed with ordinary baby teeth, four in the front just like any human child, the rest a curious blend of both worlds.
She opened wide when he asked.
Closed when he asked.
Rinsed when he asked.
She was perfect.
And through it all, Erza watched.
Stood in the corner of the small bathroom, her back against the wall, watching him tend to their daughter with a gentleness she hadn't known he possessed. Watching the way his hands moved—so careful, so patient, so loving in a way that made her chest ache. Watching the way Elena trusted him completely, leaning into his touch, murmuring sleepy words that only he could understand, accepting his care without question because he had earned that trust a hundred times over.
He didn't look at Erza.
Didn't acknowledge her presence.
Didn't seem to notice her at all.
And something in her chest—something she didn't understand, didn't want to understand, had spent centuries trying to kill—twisted.
She picked up her ice brush.
Walked up behind him.
And thumped him on the head with it.
Not hard.
Just enough.
"OW!" Yuuta spun around, one hand flying to his head, the other still holding Elena's toothbrush. "What was that for?!"
Erza crossed her arms.
Her face was cold.
Her voice was colder.
"You forgot to say good morning to me."
Yuuta stared at her.
His mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
"I... what?"
"You greeted Elena. You tended to Elena. You completely ignored my presence." Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "In my kingdom, ignoring a queen is punishable by—"
"By death, I know." Yuuta rubbed his head, still holding Elena's toothbrush. "You've mentioned it. Several times. Actually, you've mentioned it so many times I'm starting to think it's the only law you have."
"Then why did you—"
She stopped.
Caught herself.
Why do I care?
The question burned through her mind like fire through ice.
Why do I want him to notice me?
Why does being ignored by this pathetic mortal bother me so much?
Why do I—
Yuuta studied her face.
Her cold, ruthless, jealous face.
Wait.
Jealous?
No. That couldn't be right. She was the Dragon Queen. She didn't get jealous. She didn't get anything. She was ice and fury and ancient power, carved from centuries of solitude and survival.
But the way she'd hit him...
The way she'd complained...
The way she was standing there now, arms crossed, chin lifted, refusing to meet his eyes...
Maybe, he thought, the realization dawning slowly, she's just used to formalities. In her kingdom, everyone probably greets her every morning. Every servant, every advisor, every soul who crosses her path. And now that she's here, with no servants, no court, no one to bow, no one to acknowledge her... maybe she feels... lonely?
His expression softened.
He smiled.
Small.
Warm.
Genuine.
"Good morning, my queen."
Erza's eyes snapped to his.
"I hope your day is as beautiful as you are."
Her heart stopped.
Then started again.
Faster.
Louder.
Too loud.
She could hear it pounding in her ears, feel it hammering against her ribs, sense it trying to escape her chest entirely. Her face—her cold, controlled, centuries-perfected face that had never betrayed a single emotion she didn't want it to—went warm.
"I—you—" She couldn't form words. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. "That's—you can't just—"
Elena, still perched comfortably in Yuuta's arms, looked between them with the innocent curiosity that only children possess.
"Mama's face is red," she observed, the words dropping into the silence like stones into still water.
Erza's eyes widened.
"It is NOT red!"
"It's very red." Elena nodded solemnly, completely unaware that she was signing her own death warrant, that her mother's expression had shifted from flustered to mortified to something that might become homicidal. "Like strawberries! Or the sunset! Or—"
"ELENA!"
Yuuta laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound filled the small bathroom—warm and genuine and completely without fear, without hesitation, without any of the careful calculation that usually governed his interactions with her. It was the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep, somewhere that had been buried under years of loneliness and struggle and the weight of surviving alone.
Erza's head snapped toward him.
Her face—still flushed, still warm, still completely out of her control—froze into its coldest expression, the one she used when she needed to remind people exactly who they were dealing with.
"You." Her voice was ice. "Do not ever call me 'queen' again. Or 'your highness.' Or any of that ridiculous nonsense."
Yuuta's laughter died.
"What? Why?"
"Because hearing those words from your mouth makes me sick." She looked away, toward the wall, toward the sink, toward anything that wasn't him.
"Then what should I call you if you don't want to be called anything?" He tilted his head, genuinely confused. "It's not like I know your name in the first place, Your Highness."
Erza froze.
Her entire body went still.
He doesn't know my name.
The realization hit her like a physical blow.
We've been here for more than three days. Living together. Eating together. Fighting together. Sleeping in the same apartment. And he doesn't know my name.
I don't know his name either.
The thought followed immediately, equally shocking.
What is wrong with us?
What kind of strange creatures have we become?
She stared at him.
At this impossible mortal who had cared for her daughter, bought her clothes, healed her with words she didn't understand, and never once asked for her name.
"You have to earn this privilege," she said coldly, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. "The privilege of knowing my name."
Yuuta's eyes widened.
He leaned forward slightly, his whole body radiating attention, as if she were about to reveal the deepest secret of the universe.
Erza straightened.
Lifted her chin.
"I am the Queen of Atlantis," she declared, her voice ringing with ancient pride. "The ruler of the Atlantica Continent. The proud descendant of Seraphina and the Ruthless Blade of Atlantis."
She paused.
The moment stretched.
"I am Erza Vely Dragomir."
Silence.
Then—
Clapping.
Elena was clapping her tiny hands together with enthusiastic delight, her face beaming. "Yay, Mama! Pretty name! Pretty, pretty name!"
Yuuta joined in, clapping with equal enthusiasm, a wide grin spreading across his face.
They looked like they were applauding a performance.
Like they were watching a play.
Like her grand declaration had been entertainment rather than revelation.
Erza's eye twitched.
Then Yuuta paused.
His hands stopped mid-clap.
"Wait." His brow furrowed. "Your name is Erza?"
Erza's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Why? Is there a problem?" Her voice dropped to sub-zero temperatures. "Are you going to laugh at me? Mock my name? Tell me it's strange or difficult or—"
"No, not at all." Yuuta shook his head quickly, his expression genuine. "It's just... it's beautiful. The most beautiful name I've ever heard."
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Erza's heart hammered against her ribs.
Her face—which had only just returned to its normal color—flushed crimson all over again.
She couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't do anything but stand there, frozen, while this impossible mortal looked at her like she was something precious and said her name was beautiful.
"I—" She looked away sharply, unable to meet his eyes. "From now on, use my name. Just my name. Nothing else."
Yuuta stared at her.
His brain processed the words.
Processed the meaning.
Processed the implication.
Did I just hear that correctly?
The egoistical, prideful, ice-cold Dragon Queen who threatened to kill me a hundred times... just asked me to call her by her first name?
Not her full title. Not 'my queen.' Not 'your highness.'
Just... Erza.
"As you wish." The words came out quickly, before she could change her mind, before she could take it back, before the moment passed. "Erza. I'll call you by your name from now on."
Her face, already pink, deepened to a shade that would have concerned a doctor.
"Don't misunderstand," she said quickly, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "I'm not giving you permission because I have feelings or something ridiculous like that. I'm giving you permission because hearing 'my queen' from your mouth makes me want to puke."
She turned.
Walked toward the dining table.
Did not look back.
Did not give him any chance to respond.
Yuuta watched her go.
Watched the way her silver hair caught the light, the way her shoulders were set with rigid dignity, the way she moved through his apartment like she owned it—which, he supposed, in a way she did.
Elena tugged his sleeve.
"Papa," she whispered loudly, completely failing to whisper at all, "Mama is acting weird again."
Yuuta sighed.
"Yeah, sweetheart. But weird is better than homicidal, so I'll take it."
---
Elena emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her small body dripping slightly, her silver hair sticking up in every direction. She stood in the middle of the hallway, eyes half-closed, barely standing, the very picture of a sleepy toddler who had not yet fully committed to being awake.
Yuuta knelt beside her.
"Alright, little princess. Time for real clothes."
He had already put her rabbit costume in the washing machine—it was long overdue for a clean. Now he reached for one of the new outfits he'd bought last night.
A small dress.
Pale pink, with tiny embroidered flowers along the hem. Soft fabric. Perfect for a little girl.
He held it up.
Elena's eyes went wide.
All traces of sleep vanished.
"PAPA!" She grabbed the dress like it was made of gold. "This is for ME?!"
"It's for you. I bought lots of dresses for you. So you can look cute every single day."
"LOTS?!"
"Lots."
Elena exploded.
Not literally—though with her dragon heritage, Yuuta supposed it wasn't impossible. But her reaction was explosive enough. She jumped. She squealed. She bounced on her tiny feet with so much energy that her tail wagged like an excited puppy's.
"PAPA! PAPA! PAPA!"
She launched herself at him.
He was kneeling, so the impact was perfect—she wrapped her small arms around his neck and squeezed with all the strength a four-year-old dragon hybrid possessed. Which was, he was learning, considerable.
"Papa, I love you!" Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. "Don't ever leave me alone! My Papa is the best Papa! The GREATEST Papa! I love Papa so much!"
She didn't have the words.
Didn't know how to express what she felt.
But the meaning was clear.
Pure.
Overwhelming.
Yuuta's eyes burned.
Tears pricked at the corners.
He held her close, one hand cradling her head, the other wrapped around her small back. She was so tiny. So warm. So his.
"I'm not going anywhere, Elena." His voice was rough. "Don't you worry about that. I'm staying right here."
She pulled back.
Looked at him with those violet eyes.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Promise?"
He held up his little finger.
"Pinky promise."
She wrapped her tiny finger around his.
"Pinky promise!"
And in that moment, in the hallway of a tiny apartment in a city that didn't know they existed, a father and daughter made a vow.
One that neither of them would ever break.
---
From the dining table, Erza watched.
She hadn't meant to.
Hadn't planned to.
But her eyes were drawn to them—to the man kneeling on the floor, to the child wrapped in his arms, to the scene unfolding like something from a story she'd never believed in.
Her chest did that thing again.
That warm, aching, strange thing.
She didn't look away.
Didn't want to.
Didn't try.
For once, she let herself just... watch.
Enjoy.
Feel.
"If you're done with your family drama," she called out, her voice deliberately sharp, "serve me breakfast already, mortal."
Yuuta looked up.
Caught her eyes.
And smiled.
"Coming right up, Erza."
He said her name.
Just her name.
No title.
No formality.
No fear.
Just... Erza.
Her heart stuttered.
She looked away quickly.
Pretended to examine the table settings.
Pretended she hadn't noticed.
Pretended everything was normal.
But inside—
Inside, something was changing.
Something she couldn't control.
Something she wasn't sure she wanted to control.
---
And so the morning continued.
Breakfast was served.
Honey pie disappeared.
Elena chattered happily about her new dress.
Erza pretended to be annoyed.
Yuuta smiled at both of them.
And somewhere, in the quiet spaces between words, a family began to find its rhythm.
---
To be continued...