A round silver moon hung high in the sky, pouring down its pale light like a river of quicksilver. The soft glow washed over the streets and buildings, bathing everything in a quiet, ethereal calm.
And standing beneath that moonlight was Lock.
After finishing the written statement for the police, he had slipped away from the mall ahead of time—because soon enough, a swarm of reporters with cameras and microphones would arrive, eager to drown him in questions.
There had been plenty of witnesses, and more than a few had filmed the battle against the Flamingo on their phones. Those clips would inevitably spread across the internet by morning. That was more than enough to raise his public profile; he didn't need to stay for interviews.
Outside, there was no sign of Jiro Kyoka.
She was probably picked up by her parents after the mall director contacted them.
A cool breeze drifted through the street, and Lock squinted against it. Ahead, in front of his apartment building, a girl stood beneath the lamplight, holding her windblown hair with one hand—as if waiting for someone.
That apartment was Lock's home.
So there was no doubt who she was.
Jiro Kyoka.
She wasn't wearing her school uniform tonight, but a pure white coat that draped elegantly over her frame. A black knee-length skirt outlined her long, slender legs, pale as cream under the moonlight.
An idea crossed Lock's mind—a mischievous one.
Silently, he crept up behind her. Her dark purple hair rippled in the wind, glossy and soft like melted chocolate—he could almost feel it slipping through his fingers.
"Kyoka," he called softly.
"Ah!?"
Jiro Kyoka jumped like a startled cat, spinning around in shock.
Lock spread his arms, grinning, as if expecting a hug.
Instead—
Thud!
Her fist sank straight into his chest.
Lock doubled over, clutching the spot in pain, and looked up at her through squinted eyes. Jiro stood with her arms crossed, cheeks puffed out in irritation.
Angry Kyoka, he thought, was adorably cute.
"Hmph! Who told you to leave without saying a word?"
There was a flicker of worry behind her eyes as she pulled out her phone, swiping to a news article before thrusting the screen toward him.
It was about the open-air mall incident.
A middle school student defeats the villain Flamingo—one whom even a pro hero couldn't subdue.
Of course, the headline was exaggerated for clicks. Fire Buster was a rescue-type hero, not a combat specialist. It wasn't strange that he'd been at a disadvantage.
Without warning, Kyoka began tugging at Lock's shirt.
The sudden gesture startled him, but before he could react, she had already pulled his uniform open, her face flushing red as her eyes traced the uninjured skin beneath. Seeing that he was fine, she exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.
"Kyoka, I'm fine," Lock said with an easy grin. "That Flamingo guy was weak—there's no way he could've hurt me."
"But… you're Quirkless, aren't you?"
Kyoka's voice trembled slightly. The footage in the article had clearly shown him conjuring a sphere of water to trap the villain.
"Actually, I awakened a Quirk recently," Lock lied smoothly, still smiling. "I just hadn't realized it before."
They had grown up together—bickering, sparring, teasing—it was only natural between childhood friends.
But tonight, under the moonlight, Kyoka's face was uncharacteristically red, and she couldn't quite meet his eyes.
Neither spoke for a while. The silence stretched between them.
"That…"
"That…"
They both started to speak at the same time, then stopped, realizing it.
"You go first," Lock said. It was supposed to be "ladies first," but tonight he felt like taking the lead.
"Sorry!"
"Hey, wait! I should be the one saying sorry."
Lock lowered his head apologetically, and Kyoka—flustered—did the same.
Bonk!
Their foreheads collided with a dull sound. Both winced, rubbing the spot, and then burst into laughter.
Just like that, the awkward tension dissolved, replaced by the easy warmth of familiarity.
"Really, Lock, why are you apologizing?" Kyoka said, twirling a strand of her purple hair, her voice soft. "It's me who should apologize. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have been in danger."
"No," Lock shook his head. "If I hadn't dragged you along to buy drinks, you wouldn't have been there at all."
He smiled faintly, remembering how close that falling decoration had come. If not for the system awakening at that exact moment, he didn't dare imagine what might've happened.
"And instead of saying sorry," Lock added lightly, "I'd rather hear a thank you. A proper one. It'd make me a lot happier."
Kyoka's lips parted slightly. She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and said softly,
"Thank you for saving me, Lock."
Her voice was steady, her eyes clear and sincere under the moonlight.
Lock felt his face grow warm. He turned his head aside to hide it and muttered, "Weird… I'm so used to you being rough with me that hearing you talk like that feels unnatural."
"Who's rough!?"
She thumped his chest again—lightly this time. The annoyance was there, but so was affection.
"Sorry, sorry. Just kidding."
They both laughed again. After a short while, Lock watched Kyoka head back toward her home before turning the key to his own apartment.
…
At that very moment, in an interrogation room across town—
The Flamingo, who had been taken into custody, suddenly convulsed and went still.
The "Quirk-enhancing" potion he'd mentioned… was far from ordinary.
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