004

You came back from your little walk, blood still drying on your sleeve, when you saw her.

A girl. Younger than you. Sitting cross legged on Mori’s desk, doodling with a red crayon like she owned the place.

Mori didn’t look up right away, but when he did, his smile was… different.

Wider. Giddy. Like he'd just remembered birthdays existed.

“There you are,” he said, voice unusually bright. “You’re just in time.”

You didn’t respond. Your eyes stayed locked on her.

She was what people would call “pretty,” you supposed.

Smooth skin, shiny hair, the kind of face adults doted on. The kind of face you could cry into and be believed. 

You hated her instantly.

A child’s jealousy, but it didn’t come with innocence. No, this felt more like strategy. More like threat assessment.

Replacement?

Your expression didn’t change, but something inside you tightened like wire.

Mori noticed. Of course he did.

“Oh,” he said, with the air of someone who’d just remembered a social rule. “You haven’t met Elise-chan yet.”

You didn’t move.

He gestured toward her, beaming like a fool. “She’s my ability.”

You blinked.

“…What’s an ability?”

Mori’s smile turned slightly sharper. Not unkind, but laced with that familiar thread of you’re about to learn something important.

“A special power,” he said. “Some people are born with them. They are called gifted. We are one of the few.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“Mine too?”

“Teleportation,” he confirmed. “Yūgen no Tobari.”

You nodded slowly. So that's an ability.

Then your eyes slid back to her. Elise.

“If she’s your ability,” you said, stepping closer, “what kind of power do you have that makes her?”

He chuckled. “Vita Sexualis. It lets me summon her.”

You stared at him for a beat. Then back at Elise.

She was still scribbling, entirely unbothered by your presence.

You peered over the desk at her drawing.

It was a man, bleeding from the stomach. Face twisted in agony. Death captured with a child’s precision.

You grinned.

Then tilted your head at her, voice soft but unmistakably curious. “If you were killed,” you asked, “how would you die?”

With a smile, you continued. “Abilities must be different from humans, no?”

Elise looked up, unimpressed.

Not scared. Not horrified.

Just… weirded out.

She turned to Mori. “Rintarou,” she said, furrowing her brows, “you picked up a creepy one this time.”

This time?

You frowned.

But she wasn’t done.

“You really should stop acting like a creep,” she said matter of factly.

“One of these days the police are going to catch you, and I’m not going to help.”

Mori let out a wounded whine. “Elise-chan…”

You blinked.

That was new.

You’d never seen Mori look pathetic before. Not calculating. Not cold. Not sharp.

Just… deflated. Like a dog caught with socks in its mouth.

It fascinated you.

You stared at him, silent, studying.

And he noticed.

His back straightened. He cleared his throat, brushing imaginary dust off his coat.

“Pretend you didn’t see anything.”

You grinned, teeth sharp and childish.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Ehhhhh…” Mori groaned, slumping again, defeated.

Pathetic again.

You liked this new game.

This strange girl. This stranger Mori.

You liked it a lot. 

You liked Elise.

Not in the way Mori did. His affection dripped with something sweet and strange, like syrup left too long in the sun.

No, your fascination with her was different. Colder. Sharper. More clinical.

She wasn’t normal, and you liked that.

She didn’t cry when you talked about blood. Didn’t flinch when you mentioned how skin peeled if you cut too shallow.

She wasn’t disturbed. Just annoyed.

“Do you ever shut up?” she asked once, glaring at you over a half finished sketch of a white haired man standing beside Mori.

“It’s boring when you talk like that.”

You grinned. “But it’s true.”

She rolled her eyes. “True doesn’t mean interesting.”

You liked her even more after that.

She wasn’t scared of you.

And more importantly, she didn’t want anything from you. Not pity. Not to “save” you. Not even attention.

She didn’t coo or fawn like the women on the street. She didn’t look at you like something to fix.

She looked at you like something annoying that wouldn’t go away.

Which made it all the more satisfying when she started letting you sit next to her while she drew.

She never invited you, of course, but she didn’t tell you to leave, either.

You'd rest your chin on the desk, watching her scribble in red crayon, close enough to smell the faint vanilla scent that clung to her.

An impossible detail, since she wasn’t even real.

But Mori made her that way.

Of course he did.

He made her perfect, at least to him.

Cute, opinionated, detached. Just the right amount of sass to make his smile twitch wider.

You noticed.

You noticed the way his voice changed around her. Higher. Sweeter. Almost lovesick.

You didn’t mind.

Why would you?

She was his ability. Of course he adored her. He’d made her to adore.

Besides, you liked watching him soften. That simpering tone, those doting hands.

It made him look… human. Weak, even.

And you liked Elise more for it.

Because when she was around, he stopped watching you like a puzzle.

When you were with her, he wasn’t measuring your teeth, he was showing his own.

Sometimes, you and Elise would talk. Or rather, you would talk and she would sigh dramatically and listen until you said something truly grotesque.

“If someone’s still breathing when you open their ribs,” you mused aloud one day, “you can actually feel the lungs trying to close.”

She didn’t even look up from her drawing.

“You’re so weird,” she muttered. “Can’t you just talk about candy like a normal kid?”

“Candy doesn’t bleed,” you replied.

“Gross.”

Still, she didn’t leave.

And neither did you.

You started seeking her out more. Not for comfort, not even for affection. But for something else.

Proximity.

She felt like a storm cloud with its own weather system, and you liked being near her strange, static buzz.

Sometimes, Mori would walk in and see the two of you sitting side by side, heads close, your expression unusually quiet.

His face would shift, just for a second. That flicker of something like displeasure, but it never reached his voice.

“Elise-chan,” he’d say, too brightly, “don’t let L/N-kun bother you too much.”

You’d raise an eyebrow. “She doesn’t mind.”

Elise would shrug. “He’s less boring than you.”

That always made Mori twitch.

He’d come over, ruffle your hair a bit too hard, or stand behind you like a shadow, hands folded as if you were suddenly very interesting again.

You didn’t fight it.

You always drifted back toward him, like iron to a magnet.

His attention, even if it was sharp or possessive or oddly jealous, was still attention.

He’d lean down, whisper near your ear, “Don’t hog her, L/N-kun.”

And you’d smile.

His jealous side is rather entertaining, after all.

The way he'd sulk behind a wall when he saw you hanging around Elise.

The way he gasped and immediately went to put a distance when the two of you got a little too close.

You didn’t find that strange.

Why should love be restricted?

Why should feelings only belong to grown-ups, to those who acted like they knew better?

You’d seen adults lie and rot and grovel for affection.

They weren’t wiser. Just more hypocritical.

So if Mori looked at Elise like she was a star wrapped in red ribbons, so what?

He made her.

She belonged to him.

Just like you did.

Besides, you knew she’d never replace you.

Because even when Mori was watching Elise, when his eyes softened in that sickly sweet way, they still flicked back to you.

Measuring.

Checking.

Wanting you nearby.

And you always went. You always came when he called.

You weren’t jealous of Elise.

You liked her.

But Mori… Mori wanted her.

And needed you.

And that difference made all the world tilt in your favor.