The Pit Area buzzed around them. Sparks flew from hastily repaired bots, and laughter echoed off metallic walls as students celebrated their victories—or consoled themselves over narrow defeats. But as the energy began to overwhelm Oni, Rain's boisterous enthusiasm spreading like wildfire, something softer nudged at Oni's focus. Elara.
She leaned casually against a nearby bench, arms crossed, the familiar book she'd been reading earlier tucked loosely under one arm. Her expression was relaxed—a rare thing in a place like Shinra Academy. She seemed unbothered by the chaos of the workshop, as if she'd already learned to carve out her own calm amidst the noise. And she noticed Oni was watching her.
"Did you eat today?" she asked, cutting through the noise with a question too normal—and too unexpected—for him to deflect. Oni blinked. "Uh… what?"
Elara smirked, straightening up to face him. "Food. You know, sustenance? That thing we Celestials need to function? I doubt yelling at Rain to keep up during a combat training sim counts as proper nutrition." She tipped her head toward the main exit. "Come on. Cafeteria's this way. You look like you're about to pass out."
Oni considered arguing, but his stomach betrayed him with a low rumble. Elara didn't gloat or smirk this time; instead, she simply turned and started walking, seemingly trusting he'd follow. He cast one last glance at Rain, wholly absorbed in the engineering whirlwind around him, then fell into step behind her.
The walk to the campus cafeteria was quiet—at least, quieter than the Pit had been. They passed through pathways lined with glowing lights embedded in the marble steps, the taller Phoenix trees from the Gardens of Zen still dotting the edges of their path. Elara didn't say much beyond a few muttered comments about how the staff transport shuttles needed upgrades, which made Oni grateful.
Sometimes conversation felt heavy, especially when his mind was already full.When they finally reached the cafeteria doors, a wave of warmth and the smell of spices greeted them. Shinra's Southside Campus lived up to its reputation for refinement, even here. The cafeteria wasn't just rows of plastic trays and cheap seating like back on the North Campus.
The space was designed like an upscale food court, with sleek counters offering everything from luminous, aether-fortified "power rations" to actual hot meals that smelled suspiciously like real food from Old Earth.
The ceiling was covered in soft, hovering lights that mimicked constellations, giving the dining hall a dreamlike quality.Elara led Oni to an open counter where a friendly—if slightly robotic—attendant awaited. She gestured toward the sleek panel listing today's options.
"So, what's it going to be?" she asked, turning to him with a raised brow. "Do you want 'Function Fuel,' the suspicious green protein squares that taste like sadness? Or..." Her voice dropped dramatically, and she pointed to another listing, "the grilled synth-steak with garlic rice and broth. Which, surprisingly, they actually don't mess up here."
Oni stared blankly at the options for a moment, his mind still whirring from everything—the simulation earlier, Razanda, the Gardens. Typical sustenance wasn't high on his priorities. But Elara huffed impatiently, clearly unimpressed with his hesitation.
"Grilled synth-steak. Got it. You can't keep brooding on an empty stomach. Trust me," she said, stepping forward and keying in the order for him before he could protest.
Then, she tapped away at the rest of her own selection and swiped their student badges to confirm the transaction.
"Wait, what are you—" Oni started."Relax," she interrupted, handing his badge back.
"You can pay me back when you're strong enough to beat me in the sparring ring. You may be good, Oni, but you've got a terrible poker face when you're running on fumes."A faint flicker of irritation—mixed with gratitude—coiled in his chest, but he rolled his eyes instead of starting a pointless argument.
They picked a table tucked near the edge of the room, where the glow of the artificial star lights above dimmed slightly. Beyond the large crystal-clear windows, the immense sprawl of the mountain continued to unveil itself—terraced gardens and gently spiraling ramps that cascaded down toward the lower districts of the Southside.
Oni found himself staring out, more than eating."So… let's hear it," Elara said, breaking the fragile lull as she settled into her chair. She picked at the colorful farro salad on her tray, though she wasn't eating much yet either. "What's eating at you?
And don't say it's 'nothing.' You've had that tense 'detecting-a-threat' thing going on since I ran into you in the garden."Oni didn't respond immediately. He cut into his synth-steak methodically, though he barely stopped to taste it. His gaze kept returning to that window, the fragile piece of quiet he could see beyond it. Finally, he said, "Razanda. The whole 'final product' speech." He turned to look her in the eye for the first time since sitting down. "You've been at Shinra longer than me. Does it feel like that to you? Like that's all we are here to do—get sharpened into tools and shut off from everything else?"
Elara set her fork down, folding her hands loosely in front of her plate. "It's complicated. But… yeah, sometimes it does. Especially at first. You come here, and it's all about rankings, skills, power… what you can do for Shinra, not who you are." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "But that's not all it has to be."Oni arched a brow. "Really? That's hard to believe when even the cafeteria is buzzing about people's tier rankings."
"That's the system Shinra built," Elara agreed. "And yeah, for some people, that's all they care about. Power for power's sake. Climbing to the top of the ranks so their name gets whispered in hallways. But that doesn't mean you—or I—can't carve out our own reasons for being here.
"She gestured absently to the brightly lit food stations still buzzing with life. "Maybe that's fighting to protect something fragile, like Rain said. Or maybe it's just… holding onto the parts of you they can't turn into a weapon. The people you talk to. The things you build. The life you keep choosing under all the other noise. Razanda might be a 'final product,' but that doesn't mean you have to turn into the same thing."
Oni considered her words, still chewing slowly on his food. He didn't say much else at first, but Elara didn't seem to mind. They sat in relative quiet for a while, the synthetic hum of the cafeteria fading into something softer, less obtrusive.It wasn't until Oni's tray was emptied that he finally said, "You talk like someone who's already figured it out."
Elara's smirk returned, but it was softer this time. "Figured it out? No. Not even close." She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head as she gazed at the distant Peaks. "I'm just trying to live like the garden matters too—not just the fight that protects it."
Oni let her words simmer for a moment. Rain would've been laughing by now, telling him to stop overthinking, snapping him out of whatever internal spiral he'd already started. But Rain wasn't here. Just her. So, with a slight nod, Oni conceded—for now. "Okay. I'll try to see it that way."
"Good." She picked up her fork again, twirling it expertly before starting in on her salad as if nothing had been heavy about their exchange at all. "Now, stop looking like someone kicked your dog and finish that broth. You've still got two hours before curfew, and I think there's still time for Rain to drag us into at least one more distraction."
Her lightness was annoyingly infectious. Almost without realizing it, Oni's scowl had softened, and when the corner of his lip tugged up in a reluctant half-smile—he let it. For once.