1:30 PM | Aveline's Private Gym
Yuki stood in the center of the training mat, still wearing borrowed clothes from Aveline's closet black leggings and a fitted grey tank top that somehow made her look smaller than usual.
Aveline circled her slowly. Assessing. Calculating.
"You froze during the breach," Aveline said flatly. "Panic response. Statistically lethal in sixty-three percent of similar scenarios."
Yuki's shoulders tensed. "I didn't know what to do."
"Correct. Which is why we're addressing the deficiency now." Aveline stopped in front of her. "Self-defense fundamentals. Not to make you combat-effective that requires years. But to increase survival probability in close-quarters encounters."
She moved behind Yuki without warning, arm wrapping around her throat in a simulated choke.
Yuki gasped, freezing.
Just like before. The window exploding. The men coming through. That smile—
"Wrong," Aveline said coldly. "Tuck your chin. Immediately. Protects airway. Prevents unconsciousness."
Yuki tucked her chin down, hands trembling.
"Good. Now, drop your weight. Make yourself heavy. Attacker expects resistance upward. You go down instead."
Yuki dropped, and Aveline's grip loosened fractionally.
"Elbow. Hard. Solar plexus."
Yuki drove her elbow backward tentative, weak, still shaking.
"Unacceptable. Again. Commit to the strike. Aggression increases effectiveness by forty-two percent."
Yuki tried again. Harder this time. Her elbow connected with Aveline's ribs with a solid thunk.
Aveline released her immediately. "Better. Repeat. Twenty times."
For the next hour, Aveline drilled her relentlessly.
Palm strikes to the nose. "Heel of your hand. Drive upward. Recoil immediately."
Groin kicks. "Stabilize first. Knee up, then extend. Maximum force. Don't hesitate."
Eye gouges. "Fingers stiff. Aim for the corners. Attackers instinctively recoil. Creates escape window."
Wrist escapes. "Twist toward the thumb. Weakest point. Pull hard."
Yuki stumbled through the movements, clumsy at first, but gradually finding rhythm. Her breath came in short gasps. Sweat soaked her shirt.
Every time Aveline touched her to correct her form, Yuki flinched. Not obviously just a micro-tension, a subtle recoil she couldn't quite suppress.
Aveline noticed. Of course she noticed.
But she said nothing. Just continued drilling with mechanical precision.
When Yuki successfully executed a combination chin tuck, weight drop, elbow strike, turn and palm strike to Aveline's padded hand, Aveline paused.
"Adequate," she said.
It wasn't praise. Not really. Just acknowledgment.
But Yuki felt something warm flicker in her chest anyway. Small. Fragile. I did it.
She managed a tired smile.
2:45 PM | Still in the Gym
Aveline walked to a cabinet and returned with two items.
First: a folding knife. Compact. Matte black. Spring-assisted blade.
She placed it in Yuki's hand. "Safety knife. Thumb stud deployment. Blade length: three inches. Legal carry in most jurisdictions. Keep it on your person. Always."
Yuki stared at it, fingers trembling. "I don't know if I can—"
"You can. And you will. Hesitation kills." Aveline demonstrated the flick-open mechanism with practiced ease. "Practice until it's reflexive."
Yuki's thumb found the stud. Flicked. The blade snapped out with a sharp click.
She stared at it, something cold settling in her stomach.
Another tool. Another way to hurt. Another reminder that my life is now measured in weapons and escape routes.
Second: a watch. Sleek. Black metal band. Digital face with multiple functions.
"Multipurpose tactical watch," Aveline explained, fastening it around Yuki's wrist with clinical efficiency. Her fingers were cool, precise, impersonal. "Features: GPS tracking, emergency strobe light, hundred-twenty-decibel alarm, encrypted communication channel."
She tapped the screen. A menu appeared options Yuki barely understood, all labeled with military precision.
"Alarm activates here. Flashlight here. Most importantly..." Aveline held up her own wrist, identical watch gleaming. "Synchronized connection. Your distress signal transmits directly to my device. Real-time location sharing. Biometric monitoring."
Yuki looked down at the watch, then up at Aveline. "We're... connected?"
"Affirmative. Within a fifteen-mile radius, I can locate you within thirty seconds. Beyond that range, satellite relay extends coverage globally." She paused, something shifting in her expression, too subtle to read. "If you're in danger, I'll know. Immediately."
Something warm bloomed in Yuki's chest, unexpected and confusing.
Connected. She'll know if I'm in danger. She'll come.
The feeling twisted almost immediately into something darker.
Because that's the mission. Not because she cares. Because I'm an asset. A responsibility.
But still.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she hated herself for it. "Thank you."
Aveline's expression didn't change. But her eyes softened. Just barely. A micro-adjustment that might have been nothing or might have been something almost like warmth.
"You're welcome."
Then the moment passed, and Aveline was already moving away, returning the equipment to its precise place in the cabinet, every item aligned, everything controlled.
Yuki looked down at the watch on her wrist.
Connected.
Despite everything the explosions, the deaths, that horrible laugh,she felt safer?
And that terrified her almost as much as the attack had.
4:15 PM | Indoor Pool
The pool was absurd.
Olympic-length. Crystal-clear water. Underwater lighting that turned everything ethereal blue-green. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking gardens that looked like they belonged in a botanical magazine.
Yuki stood at the edge in a borrowed swimsuit black one-piece, perfectly fitted because of course Aveline's staff had already stocked guest sizes in every conceivable measurement.
Aveline sat in a lounge chair nearby, fully dressed in tactical pants and a fitted black shirt, reading a book titled Cognitive Behavioral Analysis in Antisocial Personality Disorder.
The irony wasn't lost on Yuki.
She didn't look up. "Water temperature: eighty-two degrees Fahrenheit. Optimal for muscle recovery post-physical exertion."
Yuki dipped a toe in. Perfect.
She slid into the water with a sigh that came from somewhere deep and exhausted. The warmth soaked into bruised muscles, aching joints, the persistent tremor she hadn't been able to shake since this morning.
For a while, she just floated. Let the water hold her. Let the quiet settle over her like a blanket.
Then she swam. Slow laps. Nothing fancy. Just movement. Just the simple act of being alive.
Aveline turned a page, eyes tracking across text with mechanical precision.
"You don't swim?" Yuki called from the shallow end, treading water.
"Negative. Currently reading."
"But you have a pool."
"Tactical conditioning requires varied exercise modalities. Swimming: cardiovascular efficiency, low-impact joint preservation, full-body engagement." She said it like reading from a manual. "Optimal training protocol includes aquatic components."
"So... you do swim."
"Affirmative. When operationally relevant."
Yuki wanted to laugh. Wanted to find it funny. But the sound came out hollow, tired. "You're impossible."
Aveline's lips twitched.
That almost-smile. Calculated or genuine? Yuki couldn't tell anymore.
Bruno Meows appeared from nowhere, padding across the tile with regal feline authority. He stopped at the pool's edge, peering down at the water with obvious suspicion and disdain.
What is this wet nonsense?
Meowly Cyrus followed, immediately bypassing the pool entirely and flopping onto Aveline's lap with the confidence of a creature who knew exactly where it belonged.
Aveline set down her book without hesitation, hands moving automatically to scratch behind Meowly's ears. The purring started instantly a deep rumble that carried across the pool area.
Yuki stopped swimming, treading water, watching.
This is the same woman who blew up a house. Who killed three men without blinking. Who laughed.
But she stops reading to pet her cat.
"They really love you," Yuki said softly, and something ached in her chest.
Aveline didn't look up from Meowly, fingers still working through soft white fur with practiced ease. "Cats are efficient companions. Low maintenance. No emotional manipulation. Affection based on mutual benefit rather than social obligation."
She paused, and for just a moment something flickered across her face—too fast to identify. "Predictable. Reliable. Honest in their needs."
Unlike people, Yuki heard in the unspoken words.
Unlike me.
Unlike everyone.
Bruno Meows, having determined the pool was indeed terrible, walked over to Aveline and headbutted her arm with enough force to disrupt her petting rhythm. Meowly made an offended chirp.
Aveline's mouth curved actual smile, small but real. "Patience, Bruno."
She scratched Bruno's chin with her other hand. Both cats purred in stereo, and for a moment Aveline looked... content. Almost peaceful.
Human.
Yuki felt something crack inside her chest.
Shecan feel. She just chooses not to. Or maybe she doesn't know how. Maybe cats are simple enough. Safe enough.
Maybe people are just too complicated. Too dangerous. Too likely to hurt her back.
She turned away, swimming another lap, trying to process the impossible contradiction sitting in that lounge chair.
Monster and human.
Killer and cat owner.
Empty and full.
All at once.
When she surfaced at the far end, Aveline was watching her. Eyes tracking movement, calculating, assessing.
Always assessing.
"Heart rate elevated," Aveline observed. "Breathing pattern indicates emotional distress rather than physical exertion."
Yuki's laugh came out broken. "You can tell that just by looking?"
"Yes. Micro-expressions, respiratory rate, pupil dilation. Standard observational protocols."
"That's..." Yuki searched for words. "That's really unsettling."
"Accurate observation often is."
Yuki floated there, staring at her. "Do you ever just... turn it off? The analyzing? The calculating?"
Aveline considered this, head tilting slightly. Meowly adjusted position in her lap, unbothered.
"No," she said finally. "It's not something I activate. It's baseline processing. Like breathing. Automatic."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It's efficient."
"Everything is efficient with you." Yuki's voice came out more bitter than she intended. "Killing is efficient. Betraying your family is efficient. Cats are efficient. Is anything just... because you want it? Because it makes you happy?"
Silence.
Aveline's expression didn't change. But something shifted in her eyes something Yuki couldn't name.
"Cats make me happy," she said quietly.
And for some reason, that admission small, simple, honest hurt more than anything else.
Yuki turned away, swimming toward the stairs. "I'm getting out."
She climbed out, dripping, wrapping herself in a towel that materialized from somewhere probably staff, always watching, always anticipating.
Aveline was still sitting there, both cats purring in her lap, book abandoned.
Looking at Yuki with those calculating green eyes.
"You're afraid of me," Aveline observed. Not a question. A statement of fact.
Yuki froze, towel clutched around herself. "I..."
"Understandable. Fear response is appropriate given observed behavioral patterns. I killed five people this morning. Displayed pleasure in successful tactical execution. Demonstrated absence of expected emotional responses to violence."
She said it so clinically. Like discussing weather patterns.
"You laughed," Yuki whispered. "You smiled. Like it was funny."
"It was efficient. Optimal outcome achieved through superior tactical planning. Satisfaction at successful execution is normal psychological response to achievement."
"They were people."
"They were hostiles attempting to kill you. Distinction matters."
Yuki's hands shook. "Does it? To you? Do people matter at all or are we just... variables? Assets? Things to be managed?"
Aveline was quiet for a long moment. Both cats purred in her lap, oblivious to the tension crackling through the air.
"You matter," she said finally. "Your survival serves operational objectives. Your testimony stops mass casualties. Your continued existence has value."
"That's not the same as caring."
"No," Aveline agreed. "It's not."
The honesty was somehow worse than a lie would have been.
Yuki felt tears burning behind her eyes. "I don't know how to be around you. I don't know what you are."
"I'm your protection. Your tactical advantage. Your probability of survival." Aveline's voice remained flat, clinical. "Emotional categorization is irrelevant to functional outcome."
"It's not irrelevant to me!" Yuki's voice cracked. "I need to know if you're human or... or something else. I need to know if I'm safe with you or just... useful."
Aveline stood, and both cats leaped gracefully to the floor, tails high. She walked toward Yuki with that predator's grace economical, precise, unsettling.
Stopped three feet away. Close enough to touch. Far enough to not feel threatening.
"I am human," she said quietly. "Biologically. Genetically. Functionally. Psychological variance doesn't negate species classification."
She paused. "You are safe with me. Not because of emotional attachment. Because you are my mission. And I always complete my missions."
"That's supposed to be comforting?"
"It's supposed to be true." Aveline's eyes held hers. "Truth is more valuable than comfort. Comfort is temporary. Truth is operational."
Yuki stared at her, this impossible woman who spoke in probabilities and percentages, who killed without hesitation and loved only cats, who was simultaneously the most dangerous and most reliable person Yuki had ever met.
"I don't know if I can trust you," Yuki whispered.
"You can trust me to keep you alive. Trust beyond that..." Aveline's expression flickered something almost like regret, there and gone. "Is your decision."
She turned and walked away, Bruno and Meowly following like a small feline parade.
Yuki stood there, dripping and shaking and more confused than ever.
Because part of her the rational part, the part that had seen Aveline's true nature was terrified.
But another part the part that wore Aveline's watch, that felt safer knowing they were connected wanted desperately to believe that efficiency and protection were enough.
That maybe, just maybe, the viper could keep her safe.
Even if it could never truly care.
She looked down at the watch on her wrist.
Connected.
And despite everything, she left it on.