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Shiori sat on the edge of a building rooftop, her legs dangling freely over the ledge. Her chin rested lazily on her hand as she watched Raora disappear into the store. Beside her, Nerissa stood, her presence commanding even in stillness.
“How are you gonna get her?” Nerissa asked, her tone casual but laced with interest.
Shiori’s eyes flickered, glowing faintly, as a slow grin spread across her face. Her legs swung once, twice. “I already know,” she said, a playful edge in her voice. “But so does she.”
Before Nerissa could reply, Shiori stood, her silhouette sharp against the afternoon sky. “Stay here. This one’s mine.”
Shiori slipped into the paint store like a shadow, bypassing the bell entirely. The soft buzz of music in Raora’s ear seemed to fade as the world shifted. One by one, the other customers and employees vanished, leaving the store in an eerie, absolute silence.
Raora moved from shelf to shelf, seemingly oblivious to the silence that had blanketed the paint store. She tilted her head to examine a set of watercolors, her finger tapping idly against the edge of her basket, which was already half-full with brushes and tubes of paint. Shiori leaned against the counter, one hand resting under her chin, the other flicking faintly in the air as though conducting invisible strings.
The overhead lights dimmed slightly, the fluorescents flickering just enough to catch someone’s attention. Raora didn’t look up.
Undeterred, Shiori exhaled softly, and the temperature of the store dropped, the chill weaving through the aisles like an unseen specter. Raora paused in front of a display of gouache paints, lifting her free hand to rub at her arm. Then, with theatrical exaggeration, she gave a mock shiver, her expression unreadable.
“I don’t like the cold,” she said, the amusement in her voice barely masked. She still didn’t turn around.
Shiori’s grin stretched wider, her dark presence an enticing pull that lingered just behind Raora. “Is that all you have to say?” she asked, stepping closer, her voice velvet-smooth. “When I’ve caught you?”
“That’s my job,” Raora chuckled softly, moving to the next aisle without looking back. “And if you did, you’re not very good at it. Maybe you should try harder.” She crouched to inspect a box of pastels, brushing a strand of her pink hair behind her ear.
Shiori’s eyes glimmered. “Most people don’t just ignore this.”
“Most people don’t,” Raora agreed easily, shifting to pull another set of paints from the shelf. She wobbled slightly as she stood, nearly bumping her basket against the display rack. “But I’m not most people. Bit clumsy, though,” she added with a small, self-deprecating laugh.
Shiori raised a brow, intrigued. Her presence pressed against the edge of reality itself, bending the rules just enough to disorient anyone else. Raora tilted her head, her gaze momentarily scanning a wall of brushes, her expression calm.
“You really like following people, huh?” she said casually.
Shiori blinked, her grin faltering for a fraction of a second. “You noticed me?”
Raora finally turned her head, and her eyes glowed faintly, an unearthly blue light that was soft yet piercing. Her smile was easy, but her gaze was sharp. “Since Justice HQ. Your ‘weird things,’” she said, motioning lazily to the air around them, “don’t really work on me.”
“Don’t they?” Shiori countered, taking a step closer, her voice dripping with mystery.
Raora shrugged, but her basket wobbled in her grip, and she barely caught it. “Maybe. Haven’t decided yet.”
Shiori studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You’re interesting,” she finally said, her tone laced with a twinge of something alluring. “But you’re not immune, you know. Not completely.”
“Maybe not,” Raora said, turning back to the shelves with a grin. “But I think you like that.”
Shiori’s laughter was low and smooth, and for the first time in ages, it wasn’t mocking—it was genuine. Her eyes danced throughout the room as if seeing a whole possibility infront of her noone else could fathom.
“You can’t exactly leave,” Shiori murmured, tilting her head toward the door. It was still there, but farther now, stretched beyond the confines of what should have been a simple paint store. The space between here and there pulsed unnaturally, warped just enough to remind Raora she was caught in something beyond comprehension.
Raora stopped mid-reach for a paintbrush, glanced at the distorted doorway, and hummed thoughtfully. She scratched the back of her head, her basket wobbling precariously at her side. Then, to Shiori’s utter surprise, she nodded.
“Yeah, you’re right. That’s smart.”
Her response was so casual it threw Shiori off balance. Raora smiled, a big, easy grin, and then laughed, a carefree, slightly idiotic sound that seemed wildly out of place in the oppressive atmosphere Shiori had crafted.
Shiori blinked. Once. Twice. She couldn’t remember the last time someone hadn’t at least tried to feign courage or posture for power. Other Justice members would be scrambling for an escape or pleading by now. Yet here Raora was, chuckling like she’d heard a mildly amusing joke.
“What’s so funny?” Shiori asked, her voice slipping into something more curious than commanding. She drifted closer, her movements fluid and almost serpentine.
Raora turned her head slightly, giving Shiori a sidelong glance. “Oh, just you. It’s clever. I mean, I could try to leave, but it wouldn’t work, right? So why bother? Saves me the effort.”
Shiori’s lips parted in surprise, her glowing eyes narrowing. “Most people don’t take well to being trapped,” she said, her tone tinged with fascination.
Raora shrugged, the motion nearly toppling her basket again. She fumbled to catch it, her fingers brushing against the edge of a paint set. “Most people don’t,” she agreed easily, her grin never wavering. “But I figure you’d have caught me anyway. So, like... why fight it?” She gestured vaguely to the stretched doorway. “It’s kinda cool, actually. Freaky, but cool.”
Shiori’s grin softened, her interest deepening. “You’re either incredibly brave,” she said, stepping closer, her voice dipping lower, “or incredibly stupid.”
“Eh,” Raora said with a playful shrug. “Can’t I be both?” She looked back at the paints on the shelf, as if all of this—the warped reality, the eldritch presence, the heavy gaze of Shiori—was just a mildly inconvenient background noise to her shopping trip.
Shiori found herself smiling again, a genuine smile that felt foreign and fascinating all at once. “You’re... different,” she said, the words spilling out before she could stop herself.
“Thank you, Shiori,” Raora replied brightly, picking up another set of paints. “That sounded like a compliment. I’ll take it.”
Shiori’s curiosity deepened with every second. Raora’s unbothered demeanor wasn’t just unexpected, it was exhilarating. Rarely did anyone dare to play in her domain like this, let alone with such ease. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and smooth, her amber eyes gleaming as they drank in Raora’s form.
Hell, if Raora was going to act this way, Shiori figured she could take her chances. Reaching out, Shiori’s fingers ghosted toward Raora, aiming for the barest touch.
But before she could make contact, Raora froze. Her head tilted slightly, her expression unreadable. The faint glow in her eyes sharpened into a more vivid blue that made Shiori hesitate for the first time.
Raora moved fast. Too fast. Before Shiori could react, Raora’s hand shot up, cold and unyielding metal pressing firmly against her neck. The edges of claws brushed against Shiori’s skin; just enough to warn, just enough to thrill.
“You’re so silly,” Raora said, her voice light and airy, as though they were sharing a joke. “I told you these things don’t work.” Her smile was wide and pleasant, completely at odds with the tension in the air. She held the pose for a beat longer, as if nothing extreme had just occurred.
But Shiori’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it grew. “But now,” Shiori purred, her voice honey-smooth, “you’re looking at me.”
Her eyes burned brighter, shifting into a vivid, glowing amber that seemed to pierce through Raora’s resolve. It was an instant, just one blinding moment, but it was enough.
Raora let go with a startled shriek, stumbling back as if she’d been burned. Her claws clattered against the floor, and she instinctively shielded her eyes as the world tilted around her.
When she blinked again, everything was back to normal. The warped space, the eerie silence… all of it had vanished. The paint store hummed with a normal light, and the clerk was staring at her, wide-eyed, from behind the counter.
Raora blinked, her breathing uneven as she tried to process what just happened. The basket dangled limply from her arm, and she glanced around the store, half-expecting Shiori to still be there.
But Shiori was gone, her presence lingering like a whispered promise in the air.
The clerk cleared their throat, looking pale. “Uh... are you okay, miss?”
Raora nodded, and awkwardly adjusted her basket. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. Just... dropped something.”
As she turned back to the shelf, Raora let out a quiet chuckle at first, but it didn’t stay quiet for long. It snowballed, bubbling up uncontrollably until it broke into a full-blown fit of laughter that echoed absurdly in the stillness. Her shoulders shook, and she snorted mid-giggle, only to laugh harder at herself. It was the kind of laugh that sounded almost ridiculous, like she’d just heard the funniest joke in the world and couldn’t explain it to anyone else.
Finally, she managed to catch her breath, though a few stray giggles still slipped through. She wiped at her eyes, an easy grin on her face as she tilted her head slightly.
“How sweet,” Raora said, her voice light and teasing, the laughter still laced in her tone.
From somewhere far beyond the mundane confines of the shop, Shiori smiled to herself. “I know I am.”
She hadn’t expected Raora to be this fun.
Shiori reappeared on the rooftop, her movements fluid as she stepped out of the shadows like she had never left. Nerissa turned to face her, arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning Shiori’s expression.
“Well?” Nerissa asked, her voice steady, curious but not overly eager.
Shiori stretched lazily, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. “She’s interesting,” she said, her tone soft but laced with intrigue. “And she’s fun. Acts like she doesn’t know what’s going on, but... I know she does.”
Nerissa raised a brow. “Most people don’t come off as fun to you.”
Shiori chuckled, a short, melodic sound. “True,” she admitted, her fingers idly flicking through the air. Then, with a flourish, she produced a piece of parchment, its edges worn with age, the inked letters on it delicate yet powerful.
Nerissa’s eyes narrowed as she took in the paper. Even from a distance, its aura was weighty and undeniable. Her gaze darted to the name written in meticulous script—Panthera.
“You got it?” Nerissa asked, her tone sharper now, tinged with respect and wariness.
“I got what I wanted,” Shiori confirmed, twirling the paper between her fingers like it was a mere trinket. Her grin widened, a glint of triumph in her glowing amber eyes.
Nerissa watched Shiori with a lingering sharpness, her expression fading into something more thoughtful. She leaned back against the ledge, crossing her arms as the faint wind toyed with her hair.
She shook her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. “You’re playing a dangerous one, Shiori.”
“Good,” Shiori replied with a shrug. “I like dangerous.”