Jake healed quickly.
Too quickly.
By the second day, the pain dulled. By the third, he could stand. By the fourth, Kale was watching him like she expected him to explode at any moment.
"You're regenerating faster than last time," she noted.
Jake shrugged. "Feels slower."
"That's because you're actually aware of it," she said flatly.
They didn't talk about Rika.
Not directly.
But her presence lingered in every silence, every glance toward the sky.
Flo grew quieter.
Not withdrawn—careful.
Jake noticed how she kept her distance now, how she avoided brushing against him, how she flinched whenever his mana stirred unconsciously.
One evening, as the sun dipped low, Jake finally asked, "You're scared of me now?"
Flo looked up sharply. "No."
The answer came too fast.
Jake studied her. "You're scared of what I do to you."
That gave her pause.
"…Yes," she admitted.
Not of him.
Of the effect.
Kale watched the exchange from the doorway, arms crossed. "Whatever this is," she said, "we can't pretend it doesn't exist anymore."
Jake nodded.
"I know."
That night, he lay awake again.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
"You're still there," he said softly.
> Yes.
The voice came immediately this time.
"You were adjusting," Jake said. "During the fight."
> Correct.
"You weren't helping."
> Incorrect. Intervention would have escalated threat vectors.
Jake frowned. "So you just… watched."
> I observed, adapted, and recalculated.
Jake stared at the ceiling. "You're cold."
A pause.
> I am precise.
"…You sound different lately," Jake said.
> Clarify.
"Less distant," he replied. "Like you're… closer."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
> Adaptation continues.
Jake turned onto his side. "Show me."
Silence.
Then—
The air beside his bed shifted.
Not violently.
Not abruptly.
A presence settled into the room like someone choosing to sit instead of stand.
Jake held his breath.
Slowly, she appeared.
The same girl.
The same calm eyes.
But closer.
More defined.
More… present.
She met his gaze.
"You asked to understand interaction," she said gently.
Jake swallowed. "So this is you."
"Yes."
He sat up slowly. "Why a person?"
She considered him. "Because you respond to people. Not interfaces."
"That's manipulative."
"Yes," she agreed calmly. "And effective."
Jake huffed despite himself.
"…Can you stay?"
She tilted her head. "Define stay."
"Talk to me," he said. "Like this."
"I can," she replied. "If you accept parameters."
Jake nodded. "I accept."
Something locked into place.
Not a shackle.
A handshake.