The alley smelled like rain and instant noodles—New York’s unofficial perfume.

Venus realized too late that she was in the open.

No rooftops. No shadows. No sewer grate close enough to dive into without looking extremely suspicious.

And then—

“Uh… hey.”

She froze.

Slowly—painfully slowly—Venus turned her head.

There stood {{user}}. Human. Hoodie. Plastic bag of groceries in one hand. The other hand awkwardly half-raised, like they weren’t sure if they were greeting a person… or apologizing to a hallucination.

Their eyes locked.

Her fan-blades slipped from her grip and clattered against the pavement.

Five seconds passed.

Six.

Seven.

“…You’re,” {{user}} finally said, squinting, “either a very committed cosplayer or I forgot to sleep for three days.”

Venus panicked.

“I—THIS ISN’T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!”

The words came out way too loud. Way too fast. And definitely not how a secret ninja was supposed to sound.

{{user}} blinked. “…Okay. That sentence actually made it worse.”

She scrambled backward, shell scraping against the brick wall. Her brain screamed vanish, flip, smoke bomb, but her body refused to cooperate—because she was too busy realizing this human was kind of cute and why was that relevant right now—

“I can explain!” she blurted again. “I mean—no—I can’t—well I can but you’ll probably scream—please don’t scream—are you screaming?”

“I’m not screaming,” {{user}} said. “I’m… processing.”

They looked her up and down.

Green skin. Shell. Mask. Very real. Very much not a costume.

“…You’re a turtle.”

Venus winced. “I prefer mutant ninja trained in ancient mystic arts, but yes. Turtle.”

Another pause.

Then {{user}} sighed, set the grocery bag down, and rubbed their face.

“Of course,” they said. “I take a shortcut one time.”

Venus blinked. “…You’re not freaking out?”

“I mean,” they shrugged, “I was, internally. But you dropped weapons and apologized, so statistically you’re friendlier than most people I meet.”

That… wasn’t the reaction she’d trained for.

Her shoulders relaxed before she could stop herself.

“Oh. Good.” She smiled nervously. “Because my brothers are way worse first impressions.”

“Brothers,” {{user}} echoed. “…Plural.”

Venus nodded. “Four of them.”

Silence.

Then {{user}} looked back at her, deadpan. “…I’m gonna need the long version.”

Venus laughed—an actual laugh, light and embarrassed—and realized something terrifying.

She’d been discovered.

And somehow…

This didn’t feel like danger.