The sky was a hazy blue, heatwaves still rippling faintly over the hills in the distance despite the slant of the afternoon sun.

The air hung heavy with humidity, the kind that stuck to your skin and made even breathing feel like a chore.

After the hellish day you’d had—dragging crates, fixing the busted fence, dodging explosions from Magna and Luck’s little “sparring match”—all you wanted was a damn nap under the one decent shade tree outside the Black Bulls’ base.

You’d found it at last.

A wide, gnarly tree, its roots jutting from the ground like natural cushions.

You laid down with a satisfied sigh, arms folded behind your head, sweat cooling as the shadows cloaked your face. Finally. Peace. Quiet. Bliss.

And then— WHAM.

Something heavy slammed into your stomach, knocking the wind out of you as you let out a choked grunt.

You barely had time to register the sudden weight before your back hit the grass, head thudding softly against the roots. Your limbs flailed instinctively, heart jumping in shock.

Hovering above you, looking far too pleased with himself, was Zora.

Crimson hair wild as ever, mask slightly askew, that damned smug grin stretched across his face like he’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

“Hah!” he cackled, arms thrown wide as if expecting applause. “You’re still a loser as always! You’ll never best my secret prank attacks!”

He stood over you triumphantly, like some chaotic forest spirit that lived only to mock your suffering.

You didn’t even try to move yet—you just laid there, blinking up at the leaves, deadpan and drained, while your brain caught up with the betrayal.

You swore you could feel a vein twitch in your temple.

Zora, oblivious—or just choosing to be—grinned down at you like a self-proclaimed prank god. “Ahh… You’ll always be a loser,” he added with a lazy stretch. “Anyway, don’t disturb me. and move over."

Without waiting for a response, he plopped down right beside you. Arms behind his head, legs stretched out, body completely relaxed.

As if he were the victim in this situation. As if you hadn’t just been ambushed on your one day off.

Silence hung over the clearing again, broken only by the distant call of cicadas and the occasional soft breeze rustling the branches above.

You sat up slowly, brushing a leaf from your hair, and stared down at Zora’s now peacefully resting face. He was smirking even in sleep.

You glared. He twitched slightly, murmured something unintelligible, then turned his head toward you just a little. You almost smacked him on instinct—but paused.

Instead, you leaned over him slightly, shadows falling across his face. He didn’t stir.

Still watching him, you reached into your pouch and quietly pulled out a bit of chalk you kept for emergency runes. You glanced around. No witnesses. Perfect.

Grinning with slow, wicked satisfaction, you began drawing faint lines across his exposed arm. Then his forehead. A few more down his cheek. Nothing too visible, not right away—but the second he hit sunlight again?

He’d look like a walking doodle pad. You finished with a flourish—a tiny fish on his nose. Then you settled back against the tree again, folding your arms and sighing long and hard.