"Hey, Haru… would you like to train with me?"
Dylan's voice still lingered in the air when Haru took a quick step back, wrapping her arms around her body as if trying to shield herself from him. Considering she had just seen him "play" with Roberto, the offer sounded more like a threat than a friendly suggestion. Given the stark contrast between their physiques, the idea of a fair sparring session was laughable.
Sensing her unease, he immediately tried to clear things up before the misunderstanding could take root.
"No, no. I didn't mean fighting you. I'm not some psycho who enjoys beating people up… well, except for that guy," he added with an awkward smile, pointing at Roberto, who was still sprawled on the floor, muttering curses. "I meant training with you. You know, morning jogs, maybe some stretches, basic drills… healthy stuff."
As he spoke, his gaze drifted unintentionally to Haru's arms, legs, and waist. Despite her baggy clothes, it was obvious she had a slim figure—maybe not unhealthy, but certainly frail in his eyes. To someone who had recently started gaining muscle, she looked like she was made of dry twigs, ready to snap at the slightest touch.
And even though Haru had thrived in Cráelos thanks to her skill with mana, Dylan felt that if there was any way to make her path easier, it would be selfish not to offer it. Even if she never reached her former heights, even if he never got anything in return, he would've made the same offer.
In the end, if it meant someone he knew wouldn't die defenseless, it was worth it.
As much as her presence could irritate him, he didn't hate her enough to wish her dead. Though he couldn't say he was particularly fond of her, either. Their relationship was like getting used to a rock in your shoe: annoying, but not annoying enough to stop and take it out if it meant running late.
"Huh?" Haru blinked, baffled.
She was completely caught off guard. Physical activity had always been something she avoided like the plague. But after seeing Dylan in action, with the adrenaline still buzzing in her chest, she thought: maybe it wouldn't be so bad to reach just a sliver of that skill; maybe that way she could get a bit closer to the kinds of characters she admired so much in her video games.
Silence stretched as she wavered between politely accepting or refusing. And before she could make up her mind, another voice broke into the scene.
"Not a bad idea. I'd totally do it if I had the time, but work's got me chained up," Roberto said, groaning as he got to his feet and stretched his sore limbs. Then he made a beeline for the living room, where his beloved beer and TV awaited.
Dylan followed him with his eyes, raising an eyebrow at his self-pitying remark.
"Don't worry about that. If you want, I can start waking you up at three in the morning so we can train together. Running shouldn't be a problem if we go as a pair—thieves are cowards who prefer to target people walking alone."
Roberto grabbed a beer can from the now half-thawed cooler, cracked it open with a hiss, took a deep swig, and let out a long sigh before shaking his head.
"Ugh, I'm too old to be waking up at ungodly hours. A man like me needs at least nine solid hours of sleep to be productive."
"Productive, huh…"
Upon hearing that excuse, Dylan rolled his eyes and decided not to waste another brain cell arguing with someone who'd do anything to stay in his comfort zone. Instead, he turned back to Haru; just in time for her to finally speak.
"I'll think about it. I'll give you an answer tonight… or tomorrow. Once I've made up my mind."
"Sure," he nodded without pressuring her. Even if she refused, he wouldn't regret it. Offering was enough. "Whatever you decide is fine."
At that moment, Haru suggested they exchange numbers. Dylan agreed, though he couldn't remember his off the top of his head and had to fetch his phone from his room. When he returned, Haru's eyes immediately landed on the device's utterly shattered screen.
"That's your phone?" she asked, curious as to why he hadn't replaced it.
"Yes. It still works well enough," he said with a shrug. There was no point in spending money on something that would soon be outdated anyway.
After they exchanged contacts, Haru sent him a sticker of a cat in a suit, which made Dylan chuckle quietly. Then she drifted away toward Roberto, who was already sprawled on the couch watching the same dumb show from earlier.
She leaned over the back of the couch, reaching for the remote with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Hey, why don't the three of us play on Dylan's PlayStation instead of watching that trash show?" she suggested, grinning. "That beautiful console deserves better than to gather dust…"
. . . . .
Hours later, shortly after sunset, Haru was heading home in the backseat of a taxi, her elbow resting against the window. The city lights streamed past the fogged-up glass as she smiled quietly to herself, recalling Dylan's countless defeats—who turned out to be the worst player of the three—Roberto's over-the-top teasing, and just how much fun she'd had playing in person with others for the first time in ages.
Upon arriving at the private neighborhood where she lived, she greeted the guard at the entrance and walked down the paved walkway to her home. The mansion, elegant yet understated, sat quietly under the cloudy sky, now that the rain had finally let up. As usual on Sunday evenings, Anna wasn't around, so Haru unlocked the front door with the keys she kept in a pricey handbag her father had given her for her birthday.
Once inside, she left her shoes at the entrance, hung up her raincoat, and silently made her way to a solid wooden door. She paused in front of it, hesitated for a second, then raised her hand and knocked gently.
"Dad?"
"Come in," Hiroshi's voice replied from within.
The office, located on the first floor, was spacious, lined with shelves filled with documents, diplomas—both his and Haru's—and books as thick as a brick. Even on a Sunday, Hiroshi was working. He always had.
"Everything okay?" he asked when she stepped in, his tone polite but slightly surprised. It wasn't common for his daughter to seek him out on her own.
Haru nodded, though her nervous eyes said otherwise. She sat down without waiting to be invited, hands resting tensely on her knees.
"Dad, I wanted to ask you something…"
Not wanting to waste his time, she got straight to the point. Hiroshi set aside the file he'd been reading, closed his laptop, and turned his full attention to her.
"Go ahead."
"Would it be alright if I… started going to the gym?"
Hiroshi frowned, puzzled. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond. Then he clasped his fingers together and rested his elbows on the desk.
"The gym? You?"
"Yes," she said, avoiding his gaze. "I'd like to sign up."
The room fell silent. Hiroshi studied her, trying to figure out what lay behind the words coming from a daughter he thought he knew.
"Why now?"
There was no hint of reproach in his tone. If she really wanted to work out, he had no objections. But he couldn't help being curious about such a sudden change.
"I don't know…" she muttered. "I guess I want to get in better shape. I don't feel great about how I look… and I think it'd do me good."
Immediately, his gaze sharpened. He was about to ask if someone had made her feel bad about her body, but held back. He knew—thanks to his late wife—that women often carried those thoughts without anyone planting them.
Leaning back in his chair, he thought for a moment before reaching for his wallet in the corner of the desk.
"There's no need to go out. We could build a full gym here at home. I could even hire a personal trainer to guide you, step by step—"
"No, no," she cut in quickly. "If I train here, I'll get lazy. I need a routine, to go out, see other people doing the same. That would motivate me."
Hiroshi watched her in silence. Her reasoning made sense, but he still felt uneasy about letting his pretty daughter dive into a place as questionable as a gym. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"Is that why you stopped using the card I gave you?"
"Ah… yeah."
The answer slipped out before she could stop it, and she soon regretted it. Realizing her father monitored her monthly expenses made her grip her pants tightly. Embarrassment rose up in her chest.
Hiroshi nodded slowly. He thought it was good that his daughter wanted to be more frugal, though he didn't think she needed to. So, he offered to ease her concerns.
"Don't worry about the cost. Just tell me which gym you want to go to, and I'll cover everything."
"N-no, Dad. I want to do this myself. I want to start being more independent," she said, her voice rising slightly.
He tilted his head at her tone but didn't argue. Then he remained silent for a moment, which made Haru wonder: should she say goodbye and leave, or wait for him to speak again?
Eventually, he stood up and walked over to a chest of drawers in the corner of the room. Haru recognized it immediately—it was the one drawer she'd been forbidden to touch since she was a child.
Hiroshi opened it with a key from his pants pocket and scanned the contents before pulling out the "safest" item: a taser.
"Take it," he said, holding it out to her. "It's good to have something for self-defense, just in case. But use it carefully."
Haru accepted it in confusion, examined it, then widened her eyes in a mix of surprise and delight. She hadn't expected a gift like this just for asking permission. Had she known, she might've lied earlier… though that could've caused other problems.
After that, Hiroshi glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it wasn't that late yet.
"Go get changed. We're going to buy you some workout clothes. And if we see anything else you need, we'll pick that up too."
"Dad, you're overdoing it…"
"Maybe," he admitted with a faint smile. "But if my daughter is willing to improve her lifestyle, I won't be the one to stand in her way."
Moved, Haru couldn't bring herself to refuse. She nodded silently, still holding the taser like a Christmas present. As she left the office, Hiroshi watched her from his desk. Pride and concern flickered in his eyes.
She looked happy. Too happy, maybe.
He couldn't shake the fear that someone innocent might get hurt with that taser. But as long as it wasn't her… he didn't think he'd mind all that much.
Because for a father like him—who had lost his wife and drifted apart from the rest of his family—his daughter was everything.