"Where exactly am I supposed to sleep tonight?"
Mai stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, her voice cutting through the steady ticking of the clocks. Her small, pale feet were bare against the dark wood of the floorboards. Strands of damp hair clung to her neck, occasionally shedding heavy droplets that soaked into the fabric of the oversized white dress shirt she had borrowed. The thin material turned translucent where the water pooled, clinging to her skin in a way that would test the resolve of any man.
Even Rin Kuga, usually insulated by indifference, found his gaze lingering.
He didn't look away. He watched her with a frank, unblinking intensity. While she might not yet possess the lethal, statuesque curves of someone like Utaha, there was an undeniable, burgeoning elegance in the way she carried herself. In that borrowed shirt, she possessed a magnetic pull that was top-tier even by the standards of the beauties in this converged world.
It didn't take long for Mai to catch the direction of his stare.
Her breath hitched, and she reflexively crossed her arms over her chest, shielding herself from his appraisal. Her face flushed a sudden, violent red. "You pervert!" she cried out, her voice echoing in the quiet shop.
Rin didn't offer a hollow apology. Instead, a slow, dangerous smirk spread across his face. He leaned back, his eyes traveling once more from her head to her bare toes in a deliberate sweep.
"I have to admit, the boyfriend shirt look suits you better than I expected," he murmured, clicking his tongue in a mock-appreciative whistle. "Not bad, Senpai. Not bad at all."
Mai tried to maintain her indignation, but the weight of her situation pressed down on her again. If she hadn't become a literal ghost, she would be in her own high-end apartment right now, not bartering for floor space with an arrogant underclassman. "Seriously... where is my bed?"
Rin didn't move. He simply extended his right hand and pointed a single finger toward the door directly behind him. "Right there."
Mai stared at the door. Given the layout of the shop, there was no mistaking what that room was. She pointed a trembling finger at it, her voice skeptical. "Are you certain that isn't your bedroom?"
"Of course it's my room," Rin laughed, his tone shifting into something more playful yet no less commanding. "Why? Is the great senpai actually nervous about sharing a room with her precious junior?"
He knew exactly how to play her. Mai was fiercely protective of their social hierarchy; by framing it as a challenge to her seniority, he had effectively backed her into a corner.
Her jaw tightened, her pride winning out over her blossoming embarrassment. "Hmph! As if I'd be bothered by something like that!"
She marched past him, her strides wide and defiant, and disappeared into his room. The door shut with a heavy, final thud.
Left alone in the main shop, Rin let out a soft whistle. She actually went in. He knew her personality inside and out—the way her stubbornness always outpaced her caution. It was like watching a script play out in real-time.
Later, the pale luminescence of the moon filtered through the window, casting silver bars across the large bed. They lay on opposite sides, the space between them filled with the scent of soap and the heavy silence of the night.
"Hey," Mai whispered, her voice small and thick with a worry she couldn't hide in the dark. "What if I stay like this forever? What if you're eventually the only one who can see me... and then, one day, even you can't?"
The fear of total erasure was a cold shiver in her words. She was terrified of drifting into a void where she no longer existed in the hearts of others.
Rin remained still, staring up at the ceiling. His response was casual, almost dismissive, yet it carried the weight of an absolute decree. "Don't be absurd. It's impossible for me to lose sight of you."
He meant it as a statement of fact. His Ohma power was a simply absurd; the collective amnesia of the world was a mere ripple in a pond compared to the tidal wave of his existence. He chose not to rewrite her causality yet, fearing the butterfly effect of such a massive temporal shift, but no social phenomenon could blind the King of Time.
Beside him, Mai felt her heart hammer against her ribs. The casual certainty in his voice hit her harder than any poetic vow ever could. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks again, hidden by the shadows of the room.
"Was that..." she hesitated, her voice barely a breath. "Was that a confession?"