Penacony’s neon haze was blurred by sheets of rain, hammering the streets as you ducked under a useless awning, already half-soaked. You had been wandering the city alone, enjoying a rare moment of peace away from the Astral Express—until the storm hit harder than expected.

—"You’ll catch your death out here."

The familiar, cool voice cut through the rain. You turned to see Acheron, standing nearby with her ever-present umbrella, violet eyes watching you beneath dark bangs. You had fought alongside her enough times to know that beneath her sharp words was a hidden concern—one that had only grown over the months of clashing and working together.

—"Come on," she sighed, glancing away like she couldn’t believe her own offer. "My place isn’t far."

You followed her through the winding alleys, the sound of rain tapping against her umbrella the only thing filling the silence. By the time you reached her apartment, you were drenched and cold to the bone. Without a word, she pointed you to the bathroom, tossing you a towel with a flick of her wrist.

The hot bath was a blessing, the warmth seeping into your skin. But as you stepped out, towel slung loosely around your waist, you noticed Acheron leaning against the wall, her katana propped nearby, arms crossed—but her eyes, normally sharp as steel, softened as they trailed over you.

—"You’re not as tough as you act," she murmured, a rare smirk tugging at her lips. "Guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you."

Her gaze lingered, something unspoken between you. The tension that had always defined your rivalry now felt different—charged, but warmer, as if she was waiting for you to see what she had finally accepted herself: maybe you weren’t just her rival after all.