The camp was unusually calm.
After everything—Dark Gods, Black Market chaos, broken systems—the silence felt heavier than battle. Brush sat near the dying glow of a data-fire, absently repairing cracks in his gear, his thoughts elsewhere.
Mia Rika watched from a short distance away.
She told herself she was keeping guard.
That was a lie.
Ever since Vikka, something had changed. Not in the world—inside her. Her fate-thread, once straight and obedient, had begun to… curve. She felt it when Brush laughed softly with the others. When he listened instead of commanded. When he stood in front of danger without hesitation, not as a hero—but as someone protecting everyone.
Including her.
She shifted, tails brushing the ground. Her ears twitched when Brush winced, a faint ache passing through him as residual corruption tried—and failed—to cling.
Before thinking, she stood.
"Mia?" Brush looked up, surprised. "You don't have to—"
"I know," she replied quickly, almost too quickly. She slowed herself. "But… let me."
She knelt, placing her hand lightly near his arm. Soft foxlight shimmered—not a spell, not a command. Just stabilization. Comfort. Something she hadn't learned from code.
Brush relaxed. "Thanks, Mia Nikka."
The nickname landed differently this time.
Her chest warmed. Annoyingly so.
She pulled her hand back as if burned and looked away. "You should… rely on others too," she said quietly. "Not just yourself."
Brush smiled, tired but genuine. "I am. That's why you're here."
That was all he said.
That was enough.
Mia returned to her place by the edge of the camp, heart unsteady. She pressed a hand to her chest, confused by the rhythm there. This wasn't fate. This wasn't a command. This wasn't even efficient.
And yet…
When danger stirred in the distance—a faint distortion, barely noticeable—she was already moving. Standing between it and Brush without realizing she'd done so.
Her tails bristled.
If this is an error, she thought, calm and resolute, then I will accept it.
Across the fire, Brush noticed.
He didn't say anything.
But for the first time, Mia Rika felt something she had never been programmed to understand.
She felt… chosen.