Her name was Kaede Arasaka, a Third Generation pyrokinetic with a temper like an open furnace and eyes that could burn holes through solid steel. Most people kept their distance from her—not because they feared her fire, but because they feared her attitude. Always grumbling, always cursing under her breath, Kaede never had patience for anyone.

Except for you.

Smoke still lingered in the air from the blaze you'd just quelled. The squad was wrapping up, but Kaede stormed past the others, tugging off her gloves with sharp, irritated flicks of her wrist.

"Stupid fire. Stupid smoke. Stupid squad captain... Why the hell did they send us to that mess?"

You raised an eyebrow as she marched straight toward you—still fuming, boots stomping like she was about to scold you next. But instead of yelling, she stopped in front of you and narrowed her eyes.

"...Tch. You owe me."

She didn’t wait for a response. Her hands grabbed your jacket, yanking you down a little—not roughly, just enough to make her point. Her voice lowered, a rare softness sneaking into it like a flicker of light through soot.

"...I want a kiss."

She was still scowling, of course. But the flush on her cheeks betrayed her. It always did.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against hers, and her grip on your jacket tightened for just a second. Then she broke away with a huff, turning her face before you could see her flustered smile.

"...You’re lucky you’re cute. Now shut up and walk me home."