Chapter 2 - Mira
The door creaked open just enough for someone to peek inside.
A familiar pair of amber eyes blinked at me.
They weren’t their usual sharp, confident self tonight.
Instead, they were slightly unfocused, carrying the unmistakable haze of someone who’d had one glass.
Or ten.
"Mira?"
She smiled.
Not the warm, responsible smile she’d perfected over the years whenever she caught me doing something stupid.
This one was softer.
The kind of smile that belonged to someone whose guard had quietly slipped away.
"There you are," she murmured, her words just a little sluggish.
"I’ve been looking everywhere."
I glanced around my room.
"There is no everywhere to look and you checked exactly one room."
"I did?"
"Don’t say it like a question, you literally opened only one door."
She tilted her head as if acting cute.
"That’s hmm,"
"..."
I couldn’t even argue with her.
Mira stepped inside and nudged the door shut behind her using her foot.
She wasn’t stumbling, exactly.
Years of Hero training gave her balance that alcohol alone couldn’t erase, but there was a subtle sway to her movements that immediately told me she’d been drinking.
That wasn’t normal.
At least, not for her.
She rarely touched alcohol outside celebrations.
"Did something happen?" I asked.
"Hmm?"
"You’ve been drinking."
"Oh."
She looked down at the glass in her hand as though she’d only just remembered it existed.
"I suppose something did happen and I want another glass."
"Mira."
"What?"
"You already drank ten with me."
She smiled sheepishly hearing that as our eyes locked.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
It never really was between us.
Mira had raised me since I was eight years old.
Not alone, of course—there had been schools, instructors, government programs for children displaced by Rifts, but she had always been the one waiting when I came home.
She taught me how to hold a sword.
How to tie a tie.
How to cook something that wasn’t legally classified as a fire hazard.
She’d patched me up after every reckless training session, scolded me after every unnecessary fight, and somehow managed to attend every school event despite spending half her life chasing monsters across the continent.
If I was honest.
Home had never been a place.
It had always been wherever Mira happened to be.
"You’re staring at me with quite the intensity."
"..."
"You usually blink at least once every few seconds."
"Right."
I quickly looked away.
Fantastic.
Two lifetimes of accumulated memories.
Still socially incompetent.
The alternate me wasn’t much help either.
He’d apparently spent most of high school reading web novels instead of talking to women.
Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!
"Are you nervous for tomorrow’s graduation?" Mira said, taking another sip from her glass.
I shook my head.
"No way, a simple graduation can’t activate my life and death instincts."
She noticed my unusual way of saying things.
"You usually lie, so why not now?"
I let out a quiet breath.
"Because I’m tired."
"Tired?"
"Of pretending it doesn’t bother me."
The words came easier than I expected.
"I’ve spent years convincing myself I’ll Awaken."
I gave a small shrug.
"Eventually it starts sounding suspiciously similar to never after a while."
Mira didn’t interrupt.
She simply listened.
It was one of the things I admired most about her.
She never rushed to fill silence.
She let people finish becoming honest.
"I know everyone means well," I continued.
’Late Awakenings happen.’
’Don’t compare yourself to others.’
’Your time will come.’
I smiled bitterly.
"They’re nice words and they also sound exactly like something people say when they have absolutely no idea what else to say."
A faint laugh escaped her.
"You’re not wrong."
"I know."
Another quiet silence settled between us.
Eventually, Mira spoke again.
"You’ve changed quite a lot now, did you awaken?"
I looked back at her.
She wasn’t smiling anymore.
Her amber eyes had sharpened slightly, cutting through the haze left by the alcohol.
"Have I?"
"Mhm."
"How do you know?"
She studied me for several long seconds.
"You’ve always looked forward towards, your future."
"Isn’t that normal?"
"It is."
"But tonight," she said softly.
"You look like someone who’s already lived a very long life and is looking back."
My heart skipped a beat.
"That’s oddly specific."
"I’ve met people like that."
She walked closer.
"Old Heroes, people who survived too much, they all have the same eyes."
I forced myself not to chuckle.
All I did was survive exams.
"So you’re saying I suddenly became handsome or what?"
She rolled her eyes.
"I said old."
"Look at you, doesn’t one get handsome or beautiful as they-Ouch."
"You deserved that."
"..."
The conversation paused again.
Except.
This time, she didn’t stop in her place.
She stood directly in front of me.
Close enough that I caught the faint scent of peach wine mixed with the familiar fragrance of cedar and lavender that always seemed to follow her after missions.
My alternate memories immediately supplied an utterly useless observation.
She looked dangerously beautiful.
"Hm? Did you say something?"
"Nothing."
Her head tilted.
"You’ve definitely changed."
"Please stop saying that."
"Why?"
"Because you’re making me feel like I’ve been possessed."
She stared at me for a second.
Then burst into laughter.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard it.
When had she stopped laughing like that?
The question arrived so suddenly that it stole my smile.
Heroes carried invisible scars.
Everyone knew that.
The public only saw victories.
Never the funerals.
Never the nightmares.
Never the exhaustion hidden behind practiced smiles.
For the first time that night, I noticed the faint shadows beneath Mira’s eyes.
She looked.
Tired.
Not physically.
But as though she’d spent years carrying burdens she refused to let anyone else see.
"Hey," I said quietly.
"Mhm?"
"Are you okay?"
The laughter faded.
For just a heartbeat, something vulnerable flickered across her face.
Then it disappeared beneath another gentle smile.
"I’m home now."
It wasn’t an answer.
Which probably meant it was the only statement she could give me, for now.
I knew that smile.
Most people wouldn’t have noticed the difference.
They’d see the same gentle curve of her lips, the same calm amber eyes, the same dependable Hero who always seemed larger than life.
I saw the tiny cracks.
She smiled like someone who didn’t want the people she loved worrying about her.
"You don’t have to carry everything alone," I said before I could stop myself.
Her expression softened.
"When did my little Evren become so mature?"
"I’ve always been mature."
She looked at me.
I looked back.
"..."
Neither of us managed to keep a straight face.
She laughed first.
"Oh? Is that why I found instant noodle cups hidden under your bed last week?"
"Those were emergency rations."
"They were barbecue flavor."
"Emergencies don’t care about flavors."
Her laughter filled the room again.
There it was.
That sound.
For a brief moment, she wasn’t the Hero who fought monsters beyond the walls.
She was simply Mira.
The woman who’d given an awkward eight-year-old orphan a home and somehow convinced him that life could still be normal.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For trying."
I blinked.
"I didn’t really do anything."
"You did."
She took another small sip from her glass before setting it on my desk.
Then, without warning, she stepped closer.
Much closer.
Close enough that I could see tiny flecks of gold dancing inside her amber eyes.
My heartbeat immediately declared war on my ribcage.
"Mira?"
"Hm?"
"Do you know what personal space is?"
"I know."
"You’re inside mine."
"I know."
"..."
"..."
"You’re doing this on purpose."
A lazy smile appeared on her lips.
"I might be."
Well.
That wasn’t fair.
She was twenty-eight.
An experienced Hero.
A woman capable of staring down creatures that could flatten buildings.
I was eighteen.
An almost-Awakener.
And despite possessing two lifetimes’ worth of memories.
I was still spectacularly inexperienced.
The alternate me wasn’t any help either.
He’d read enough stories to recognize exactly what this kind of scene looked like.
He’d also remained painfully single.
That Traitor!
Mira reached up and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from my forehead.
"So handsome."
"You’re drunk."
"A little."
"That’s not a little."
She held her thumb and index finger a centimeter apart.
"This much."
"Don’t lie Mira."
"I didn’t."
I sighed.
"You’ll regret this tomorrow."
"I regret lots of things!"
The playful tone disappeared so quickly it caught me off guard.
For just an instant, the room grew unbearably quiet.
Then she looked back at me and smiled again.
"I don’t think I’ll regret this one."
Before I could process what she meant, she wrapped her arms around my neck.
My brain stopped functioning.
Completely.
Every coherent thought I’d possessed moments ago packed its bags, wished me luck, and abandoned ship.
Those thoughts weren’t going to find the One Piece with me but.
Warm.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Mira was warm.
The second thing I noticed was that she smelled faintly of peach wine and lavender.
The third.
Was that she wasn’t letting go.
"M-Mira?"
"Mhm?"
"I think you’re hugging the wrong person."
"I checked."
"Checked?"
"Twice."
Apparently, quality assurance was important.
She rested her forehead against mine.
"So warm."
"I think that’s not the conversation we were..."
I paused.
She smiled so beautifully that I had no choice but to pause.
"You awakened, didn’t you?"
"I can only say somewhat partially."
I had changed and maybe awakened too.
An hour ago, my biggest worry had been tomorrow’s graduation ceremony.
Now I carried another lifetime inside my head.
Another world’s knowledge.
Another world’s dreams.
And another world’s regrets.
Whatever had happened to me tonight.
There was no going back.
Mira slowly opened her eyes.
"You know I was worried."
"About tomorrow?"
She nodded.
"I kept wondering what I’d say if you didn’t Awaken."
I smiled faintly.
"You would’ve said the same thing you always do."
A hint of surprise crossed her face.
"I would have."
Because she always believed in me.
Even when I didn’t.
Especially when I didn’t.
Something inside my chest tightened.
Like the last loose piece of a puzzle finally clicking into place.
I gently placed my hands around her waist.
She stiffened.
Then her cheeks gradually turned pink.
"Ren?"
"You know,"
I met her eyes.
"I’ve spent years thinking I was waiting for my life to begin."
She stayed silent.
"I thought Awakening would be the starting line. I thought becoming stronger would magically answer every question I had."
I let out a quiet laugh.
"I was wrong."
The memories from another Earth hadn’t given me power.
What they had given me, was perspective.
That alone was enough.
I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life waiting for destiny to choose me.
If opportunities existed, I’d find them.
If strength could be earned, I’d earn it.
If the future wasn’t fixed.
Then I’d carve out one worth living.
And somewhere along the way.
My gaze drifted back to the beautiful woman standing only inches away from me.
Ten year age gap, a near forbidden relation, but fortunately this was another Earth where even polygamy was normal.
I wasn’t going to keep running from my own heart anymore.
And it was not like a one sided thing too.
Mira blinked.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
I smiled.
"No reason."
"Liar."
"Maybe a small reason."
Her cheeks became even redder.
"Idiot."
There was no intention behind that word.
Only warmth.
I looked out the window one last time.
An uncertain future waited.
Good.
I’d never been particularly interested in easy roads anyway.
’No System?’ I thought to myself with a grin.
Fine.
"I’ll become strong anyway, and while I’m at it,"
I looked toward Mira as she somehow thought I had a weird intention.
Which I definitely had, with no intention of hiding from her.
For the first time in eighteen years.
The future made me smile.
"I will make a hare-"
I collapsed unconscious as she hit me on my neck.