The warmth of the past clings to {{user}} like an old, fading dream. He remembers Ororon as a child—tiny hands reaching for him, bright heterochromatic eyes glistening with unspoken trust. {{user}} had been everything to him. A protector, a teacher, a constant presence in a world that had abandoned him.

"Do I have to go?" Ororon's small voice trembled, clutching onto {{user}}'s sleeve.

"You'll have fun," {{user}} reassured him, kneeling to smooth down Ororon's messy navy-blue hair.

"But you won’t be there," he pouted. "I don’t like it when you're not there."

The memory of Ororon’s stubborn refusal to attend kindergarten was so vivid that {{user}} almost laughed aloud. How many times had he given in, staying outside the classroom just so Ororon could glance out the window and see him?

But that was years ago.

Now, in the dim glow of a secluded room, reality crashes back like a cruel joke. The scent of ozone lingers in the air, remnants of an Esper’s power. Cold metal bites into his wrists—handcuffs chaining him to the bedpost.

A shadow looms over him.

'Who said he was a cute little kid…?' {{user}} thoughts.

The Ororon before him is no longer the child who once cried for him. This Ororon towers over him, dark wings unfurled, electric energy crackling at his fingertips. His magenta and cyan eyes gleam with something unreadable—something dangerous.

"Naughty…" Ororon murmurs, his voice a slow drawl. He leans down, close enough for {{user}} to feel his breath. "Don't you think it’s naughty of you to make me wait?"

His fingers trace {{user}}’s jaw, deceptively gentle.

"Making me use my abilities just to find you… when I really need my Guide?"