(A/N: I have returned with another banger slice of life. So hand it over... that thing... your stones.)
___________
The first light of dawn filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room. Dust motes drifted faintly in the air, undisturbed by the stillness from the night before.
Veilhem stirred first, his senses immediately drawn to the unfamiliar weight sprawled atop him. Glancing down, he let out a long, quiet sigh.
Makima had wrapped herself in his tattered cloak like a makeshift blanket, curled against his chest like a contented loaf of bread. Her breathing was slow, steady, and infuriatingly at ease.
Why she chose this spot over the soft bed in the corner was beyond him.
But it also allowed him to see her differently. If he had to describe it, she seemed less of a calculated machine and more like something more… human.
Though there was a problem—
He wasn't sure what else to do except lie there, fingers tracing idle patterns along her back to kill some time. He hadn't planned to stay like this all morning, yet he made no effort to change that either.
"Mmm~"
After a while, a quiet groan slipped from her lips as she shifted, instinctively nuzzling closer to him when a cool morning breeze brushed past them.
Her unusual ringed eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep. Unlike her usual composed self, she took a few seconds to process where she was.
Then, Makima tilted her head back to look at him, rubbing her eyes.
"Comfy." Her voice was thick with drowsiness.
Veilhem said, amusement flickering in his gaze. "You sound half-asleep."
She let out a low hum in response, pressing her face against his collarbone as if to shut out the day. "Then you should let me sleep more."
Her arms draped lazily around his neck, her warmth still lingering from sleep. It was a rare sight seeing her unbothered by anything outside.
And for a moment, a thought flashed through his mind. 'Why do I even indulge her? It's not like we are in that kind of relationship.'
Realizing that, Veilhem's fingers traced a final, idle stroke along her back before shifting beneath her.
"Alright, time to get up."
Makima let out a soft and reluctant groan, but didn't move right away. Instead, she burrowed herself into him once more, savoring the lingering warmth one last time before slowly pushing herself upright.
With a languid stretch, she finally sat up, stretching her arms behind her head. Loose strands of red hair caught the sunlight, a vivid contrast against the muted tones of the room.
Veilhem reached out, tucking a stray lock behind her ear. But that simple touch made her instinctively lean into his calloused palm, her soft lips brushed against his skin as she gazed up at him through those mesmerizing half-lidded eyes.
He froze for a second before withdrawing his hand. Without a word, he stood up, his armor creaking slightly as he adjusted it back into place.
Makima watched him for a moment before rising to her feet as well, smoothing out her clothes with slow, unhurried motions. The remnants of this comfort still weighed on her, evident in the way she reluctantly got up.
"I'll get things ready." Veilhem said, casting a glance toward the window. The early morning light had fully settled in now, streaming through the glass and spilling over the room in a golden glow.
Makima ran a hand through her hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it, the soft light cascading over her figure, tracing her curves with an almost ethereal glow. Her red hair caught the stray light like flickering embers. At that moment, she looked almost unreal—effortless, untouchable, breathtaking, as if she had stepped out of a painting.
"I'll join you soon." She murmured, still sounding lazy.
_____
(Pic)
_____
Veilhem walked past her toward the bathroom, pausing just long enough to throw a glance over his shoulder. "Try not to fall back asleep."
She only nodded in response before stretching once more. Then, with a quiet breath, she finally turned her attention to preparing for the day ahead.
He lifted his helm and washed his face, staring into the mirror. What stared back hardly felt human. Sunken eyes, pallid skin, a heaviness clinging to every line of his face.
The Untrue Dark Ring was still on his finger, helping him retain his human form.
But it was just that—a mask.
He looked like a corpse trying to pretend otherwise.
With a tired breath, he forced his fingers into the corners of his mouth, pushing up into something that might've been a smile. The reflection didn't follow. It sagged, lifeless, as if even the mirror had given up pretending.
He let his hands fall, shoulders slumping under the weight of it all.
_____
(Pic)
_____
Knock knock.
The sound pulled him from the pit, sharp and sudden. He didn't need to ask who it was. Only one person knocked like that.
"Are you finished?" Makima's voice came through the door—soft, lazy, still laced with sleep.
"Almost." Veilhem replied and glanced at the mirror one more time before slipping his helm back into place. Without the armor holding his broken self together, he might have fallen apart entirely.
Somewhere along the way, he had built walls around himself without even realizing it. Not just to keep others out, but to keep himself from breaking open.
A quiet defense, born out of fear, of being seen, and worse, understood.
The door eased open behind him with a soft creak, and with it, a redhead peeked out.
Makima stepped inside and wordlessly wrapped her arm around him from behind. She tiptoed and buried her nose into his neck to fully submerge herself in his scent.
For a moment, he stood frozen, letting the silence stretch between them. Her warmth lingered, soft and steady, seeping through the cracks in his armor.
Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, Veilhem raised a hand and nudged her back. Not roughly, but firm enough.
"That's enough." He muttered, eyes averted beneath the helm. "Get yourself ready first."
A poor excuse. Half-hearted, even to his own ears.
Makima didn't resist. She simply stepped back, her expression unreadable, as if she already knew the truth behind his words and didn't feel the need to press.
He quickly turned and left the bathroom.
'What the hell was that?'
Veilhem clenched his jaw beneath the helm, fingers twitching at his sides. The warmth of her touch still lingered on his armor like an accusation.
'Everytime you loved something, it always went to shit.'
'Do not let her in your life, you fucking moron. How many times do you have to get hurt before learning that lesson, huh?'
'You don't get comfort, you rot… for that is the Curse of the Undead.'
He exhaled harshly, as if trying to spit the thought out before it could settle too deeply.
Because in the end, he was still what he always had been. A lone sinner.
Veilhem stood outside, leaning against the wall to recollect his thoughts as he waited for her to change. The soft rustling of fabric reached his ears, but he paid it no mind.
Instead, his gaze drifted outward, watching the quiet rhythm of a world he had long since forgotten to ward off his spiraling thoughts.
His thoughts were broken at the sound of footsteps behind him. Turning his head around, he saw Makima step out from the doorway, adorned in her usual civil servant attire.
The last traces of drowsiness had vanished, replaced by that familiar, unsettling poise.
That eerie elegance of hers had returned, as if the unguarded moments of the morning had never existed.
Her hair was neatly braided, not a single strand out of place. Her clothes were smoothed to perfection, a stark contrast to the warmth and quiet vulnerability he had witnessed just moments ago.
She came to stand beside him, her gaze flicking briefly over his armor before settling on his face.
"Should we go now?"
She didn't ask about the thing that happened earlier, but that only made him feel more guilty. Though he nodded in response and they began to move.
As Veilhem walked beside Makima, his gaze flicked over their surroundings. Makima, by contrast, moved with effortless ease.
She strolled forward, untouched by the weight of her surroundings. Anyone else would have felt its weight of traditions, but to her, it meant nothing at all.
"Things feel stagnant here." Veilhem said at last, breaking the awkward silence between them.
Makima hummed in response, her eyes drifting over the empty walkways and closed doors. "It's a place trapped in its own past. That tends to happen when people refuse to change."
A passing servant barely spared them a glance before scurrying away, quickening their steps as if eager to avoid trouble.
Even without a show of force, Makima's presence alone was enough to unsettle the servants.
They continued forward, their pace unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. The estate was vast, yet to Makima, it might as well have been just another stage, but its players were way too predictable as their roles were preordained long before the scene had even begun.
Eventually, they reached a pond, the water shimmering with scattered ripples as fish moved lazily beneath the surface. Makima paused at the edge, gazing at the shifting patterns with unreadable eyes.
"Thinking of something?" Veilhem came to stand beside her, glancing down at the water.
"Just trying to observe things from your perspective." She replied, but didn't turn her gaze away from the pond.
A cryptic answer. But that was Makima for you.
"Try to see through yours, not mine." Veilhem responded.
She nodded and turned away from the pond. And as they continued their quiet stroll through the Zenin estate, the distant echoes of something sharp and repetitive entered their eardrums. It was an unmistakable rhythm of someone training.
Turning a corner, they arrived at the Zenin Clan's training grounds. It was an open courtyard enclosed by towering walls.
There, standing alone in the center of the field, was a familiar figure. The same girl they had encountered just before meeting Naobito Zenin.
Maki Zenin.
She moved with fierce determination, her small hands gripping a wooden staff far too large for her frame. Sweat clung to her skin, but she did not falter.
Veilhem arched a brow. "Well, that's unexpected."
Makima tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes gleaming at the kid. "Hmm?"
There was something raw and desperate about the way Maki trained. Each movement carried an urgency beyond her years, as if she were fighting against something unseen.
And yet, she was alone. No instructor to correct her form. No clan members were watching over her progress. Just her alone in this training ground.
Then came the misstep. The balance was off. The oversized weapon tilted awkwardly in her grip. Before she could recover, she stumbled, barely catching herself with her hands against the ground.
She didn't rise right away. Instead, she remained there, small fingers digging into the dirt, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Then with sheer determination, she pushed herself up again.
Veilhem's gaze remained fixed on the child, watching the way she steadied herself after each mistake, how she kept moving despite the strain evident in her small body.
Makima, however, glanced at the scene for a moment before losing interest. To her, there was nothing much about Maki Zenin.
A child training alone wasn't uncommon. A child struggling through it, even less so. Though she wasn't really sure about this world's common sense, such cases were not rare in her old world.
She had seen countless individuals push themselves beyond their limits. Some out of duty, others out of desperation for money.
Maki was no different in her eyes. Just another insignificant cog in the clock called society, another struggle that would be broken down given enough time.
She turned slightly, already prepared to keep walking.
But Veilhem didn't move.
He remained where he was, still watching while leaning against the wall. His eyes didn't carry the same dismissive indifference as hers.
Makima observed him in silence. His expression was unreadable behind that helmet, but there was a flickering ember in his dull grey eyes. It was the look of someone who had noticed something others might overlook.
And it got her curious.
This was the first time she saw him express his interest in something, so she decided to observe the girl a little bit more.
"You see something?" Makima commented, raising her brow slightly. Perhaps this had to do with the elusive humanity that she couldn't quite grasp.
"Nothing much." He replied.
Makima's gaze remained steady as she inquired. "Do you think she's special?"
Veilhem didn't respond right away. His eyes stayed on Maki as she adjusted her grip, relaxing her shoulders before swinging again. The motion was rough and unpolished, yet there was no trace of hesitation on her immature face, only persistence.
He exhaled slowly, the corner of his lips curving into a smirk beneath his helmet. "Not yet."
Makima hummed, unimpressed. "Then why waste your time watching?"
"Because." He said, finally turning to meet her gaze. "Most people don't recognize a spark of flame. Well, until it burns everything down."
A flicker of amusement crossed her face. For a moment, she simply stared at him, then let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head as if indulging him. "You always did have a way of exaggerating things."
Veilhem shrugged. "While you always did have a habit of underestimating them. You're still seeing them as your tools, aren't you?"
He paused a bit before chuckling to himself, much to Makima's confusion. "I will bet a drink on that little girl to surprise you in the end. I have a feeling that I'd win this time."
"Then I shall bet on her getting broken down." Makima chuckled and watched as he turned back to Maki, still studying the child as if waiting to see whether that spark would turn out like Veilhem said.
"Remember to keep your words." He added as he glanced at the entrance of the training ground, another figure entered.
____________
(A/N: Guess who is that.)