"System," I asked. "Can I get rid of a power?"
[Get rid of it? Boss, you can recycle it! Any power you possess can be converted into XP at its current tier value at any time. It's the ultimate trade-in program.]
"Recycle Carbon Skin."
[Are you sure you want to convert 'Carbon Skin (Tier 3)' into 1500 Experience Points?]
"Confirm."
[CONVERSION COMPLETE! You have gained 1500 XP. Current XP: 2,500.]
The shimmery feeling of the Carbon Skin vanished, leaving only the absolute solidity of my Tier 1 durability. I had 2,500 XP. Enough for another significant upgrade.
"Upgrade Teleportation."
[Power Selected: Teleportation (Tier 4). Upgrading to Tier 3 requires 1500 XP. Current XP: 2,500. Do you wish to proceed?]
"Confirm."
[Deducting 1500 XP... UPGRADE COMPLETE! Teleportation is now Tier 3.]
[Note: Maximum teleportation range has been increased to 1 kilometer. User can now perform multiple consecutive jumps with reduced mental strain.]
[Current XP: 1,000]
I tested it again, this time jumping from one end of the gym to the other and back again in the blink of an eye. The process was even smoother, the mental calculation required to lock onto a destination almost instantaneous. My ability to appear and disappear had just increased tenfold.
I stood in the center of the room, feeling the hum of my upgraded powers. I was a walking arsenal, a one-man army with the power of a god and the skills of a master assassin.
And I was also starving. The sun was fully up now, and the long night had taken its toll.
I went to the kitchen and prepared a simple breakfast: eggs, toast, and a fresh pot of coffee. I also prepared a second tray, a more traditional Japanese breakfast of grilled fish, rice, and miso soup.
My most delicate and unpredictable new asset would be awake by now.
I carried the tray to her guest room. The door was still closed. I balanced the tray in one hand and knocked softly. "Kimiko?" I called out in Japanese. "I have brought you breakfast. May I come in?"
There was no response. After a moment, I opened the door a crack and peered inside. The room was empty. The bed was neatly made. The sketchbook I had left her was sitting on the nightstand. For a moment, I thought she had somehow escaped.
Then I heard the soft sound of the shower running in the en-suite bathroom.
I let out a quiet sigh of relief. This was a good sign. She was using the facilities, making herself at home. It was a world away from the feral creature I had brought here.
I stepped inside the room to place the breakfast tray on a small table. Just as I did, the bathroom door opened.
She stepped out wrapped in one of the white towels. Her black hair was wet and slicked back from her face while droplets of water glistened on her shoulders. She had been so fierce in the basement, but now she just looked young. The feral light in her eyes was gone and a deep watchfulness replaced it.
She froze when she saw me, her hand clutching the towel tighter. Her eyes widened with a sudden jolt of surprise and vulnerability.
My own brain short-circuited for a second. I was so used to seeing her as a tactical problem to be solved, that the sudden image of her as just a woman caught in a moment of privacy was disarming.
"Sorry," I blurted out, the Japanese words clumsy. "I was just bringing breakfast. I didn't know."
I averted my eyes and my cheeks felt strangely warm. It was a completely alien reaction for me and a flicker of my more human self.
She didn't say anything. She just stood there as a statue of startled dignity. The silence in the room was awkward.
"I'll… I'll come back," I stammered, turning around and practically fleeing the room. I closed the door behind me and stood in the hallway, my heart beating a little faster than it should.
[Well, that was smooth,] the System's voice was dripping with sarcasm. [Real master of social interaction, you are. Walked in on the traumatized, mute super soldier while she was in a towel. I'm sure that did wonders for the trust building process.]
"Shut up," I said, a genuine wave of embarrassment washing over me. I had faced down a Tier 2 powerhouse without flinching, but a simple social encounter had turned me into a stammering idiot.
I waited in the hallway for five minutes, giving her time. As I raised my hand to knock a second time, the door swung open silently.
She stood there, dressed in clean sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her wet hair was combed back, and her expression was once again a mask of guarded neutrality. She looked at the trays in my hands, then stepped aside, a clear invitation to enter.
I walked in and set her tray down on the small table. I then retrieved a second chair from the corner and placed it opposite hers and set my own tray down. It was a clear gesture thatI am eating with you rather than just serving you.
She sat down with careful focus and I sat opposite her. We ate and it was the most awkward breakfast of my life. I was trying to project an aura of normalcy while sitting across from a living weapon who probably still wasn't sure if she should kill me or trust me.
I decided to try and break the tension. My public persona as the friendly Aryan Spencer was a tool I hadn't used in a while but it was worth a shot.
I picked up a piece of my toast that had been cut into a triangle. I held it up while pretending it was a shark's fin and "swam" it through the air towards my coffee cup with a "Dun dun... dun dun..."
I did the stupidest thing since I arrived in this world. The act was childish and it was a terrible joke. I executed the plan poorly and I felt like an idiot.
[Wow. Just... wow,] the System's voice was flat with secondhand embarrassment. [That was physically painful to watch. Please never do that again.]
I prepared to put the toast down in defeat but I heard a sound from across the table. It was a soft little noise. I looked up.
Kimiko stared at me and she covered her mouth with her hand. Her shoulders were shaking. It took me a second to realize what was happening. She was laughing. It was a suppressed giggle, a sound of pure amusement that she tried to hold back but she failed. Her eyes crinkled at the corners. I had only seen rage or suspicion in those eyes before.
A genuine smile spread across my face. I failed as a comedian but I succeeded at something better. I made her laugh. This victory felt more important than the joke.
She picked up a small piece of her grilled fish with her chopsticks. She held the fish up and mimicked my shark-fin motion. Her eyes sparkling with a shared joke.
We finished breakfast in a new kind of silence. The silence was not awkward and it felt comfortable. It was comfortable. It was the quiet understanding between two people who had found a tiny island of normalcy in a world of chaos.
The bridge of trust between us was still fragile. It was a single thread spanning a vast canyon of trauma and suspicion.