When Ryuuto pulled up outside Gwen's house, she finally stirred awake in the passenger seat.
Her first move wasn't to get out of the car — it was to check her legs.
She glanced down, heart pounding.
Two. Just two.
No extra limbs, no sticky palms. She sighed in relief.
"Thank you for driving me home," Gwen said softly. Then, after a pause, her eyes narrowed. "You said you're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent… Did you approach me on purpose?"
"If I could see the future, sure," Ryuuto replied. "But I can't. I had no idea you'd get bitten by that spider. I just wanted to make sure your… gene didn't mutate in a way that flags you as a mutant. That'd be bad."
"Mutant?" Gwen's voice rose. "I'm not a mutant!"
"I know," he said calmly, "but scanners might think you are. And with tensions between mutants and normal people right now, if the wrong test picks that up, they'll throw you into a containment facility faster than you can blink. So…" He smirked slightly. "You want to invite me in, or should we find somewhere else to talk?"
Gwen hesitated. "My dad's the police chief. If I don't go home, he'll start asking questions."
"Then home it is."
She sighed. "I just hope he's not around. If he sees me with a guy, he'll assume the worst. He doesn't even let me think about boyfriends until after college."
"Strict dad, huh?"
"Yeah. Very."
They got out of the car and headed up the steps. Gwen noticed the door slightly ajar — her pulse skipped. She eased it open.
TV noise.
Her father was home.
He almost never came home at noon. Of all days, why today?
"Dad, I'm back," Gwen said carefully.
"Mm."
His eyes were fixed on the television, not even glancing up — until he noticed the boy behind her.
His brow furrowed. "And who's this?"
Ryuuto caught the tone immediately — protective, cold, the kind of voice that said hurt my daughter and I bury you myself.
He straightened slightly. "Name's Ryuuto. I'm Gwen's classmate. We're collaborating on a research project—something to do with anaerobic respiration and genetic cell modification for zero-oxygen environments."
Her father's suspicion didn't fade.
Ryuuto smiled faintly and added, "Oh, right. Forgot to mention. I'm also a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, currently assigned undercover at Oxford to monitor mutation-related incidents. I figured since you're the New York police chief, we might cross paths professionally."
That one landed.
The man blinked, taken aback. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent? At that age? Impossible—unless…
"Can I trust that?" he asked finally.
Ryuuto didn't answer. He just took out his phone and hit a contact.
The man on the other end answered immediately.
"Nick Fury speaking."
"Director," Ryuuto said smoothly, "this is Agent Ryuuto, Level 9. I've got the NYPD chief here verifying my credentials."
He handed the phone over.
After a brief conversation, Gwen's father's entire demeanor shifted from steel to sunshine.
When he returned the phone, he was grinning. "Ah—Agent Ryuuto! Why didn't you say so earlier? You must be exhausted. Apple or pear?"
Ryuuto chuckled. "Either's fine, sir."
Gwen watched the transformation in disbelief. Moments ago, her dad was ready to grill him. Now he was acting like he'd found his long-lost son-in-law.
While her father busied himself in the kitchen, Gwen lifted a glass of juice — and froze.
Her hand. The glass.
Stuck.
Her fingers clung tight, refusing to release. She tugged, panicked.
The moment the adhesion flickered off, the glass launched like a bullet—
Smack!
It hit her dad square on the forehead.
Time froze.
The glass slipped, but before it could shatter, Ryuuto flashed forward and caught it one-handed. Smooth.
Gwen's eyes widened. That speed…
Her father blinked, rubbing his head, completely missing what just happened.
"Uh—sorry, Dad!" she blurted.
"It's fine," he said with an awkward laugh. "Good reflexes, young man."
"Just luck," Ryuuto said lightly.
"Dad," Gwen interjected quickly, "we need to go over some project stuff. Can we use my room?"
"Of course! Take some fruit with you," he said cheerfully, handing Ryuuto a plate piled with apples and pears.
They went upstairs. Gwen shut the door and exhaled hard.
"Okay. Now my hands keep sticking to things randomly!" she said, holding them up. "What if it happens in class? My pen, my notebook—everything just glued to me! I'm doomed! I'll have to take a leave for, like, a month!"
Ryuuto leaned against the wall, thinking. "I've got two possible fixes."
"Say them!" she said instantly, eyes bright with desperate hope. "I don't want to wake up one morning with six extra legs! Or—ugh—start gluing myself to everything I touch!"
He smirked, arms crossed. "You sure you want to hear both?"
"Definitely! Stop teasing and tell me already!"