Emotional Warfare

"What the hell is wrong with her, Hikaru?"

Owen slammed his bento box onto the bench with enough force to startle a nearby pigeon into flight. His chopsticks clattered against plastic, punctuating his outburst like angry exclamation points.

Hikaru paused mid-bite, noodles dangling precariously from his mouth. He slurped them in with practiced efficiency before responding. "I'm gonna need you to back up about fifty steps and explain what 'her' we're talking about, though I've got a pretty good guess."

"Lilith," Owen hissed, like the name itself might summon her. "The walking, talking fabric softener commercial. Interdimensional menace. Snow White's evil twin."

"Ah," Hikaru nodded sagely, as if a great philosophical question had been answered. "Your not-girlfriend. What'd she do this time? Challenge you to another dodgeball death match? Insult your hair? Make you question your entire existence with a particularly judgmental eyebrow raise?"

Owen leaned forward, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper despite the empty courtyard around them. "She came into my room. In a towel."

The silence that followed hung in the air like a cartoon piano suspended above a hapless victim. Hikaru's eyebrows climbed steadily toward his hairline, disappearing beneath his perpetually disheveled bangs.

"I'm sorry," Hikaru managed finally, clutching his chest dramatically. "Did you just say—"

"Yes!" Owen snapped. "Keep up! She walked in – no knocking, of course, because apparently royal etiquette doesn't include basic privacy protocols – wearing nothing but a towel. An unnecessarily white towel. Like, aggressively white. The kind of white that makes you question your life choices and wonder if you've been using the wrong detergent your entire existence."

Hikaru's mouth twitched. "And this is... bad?"

"It's emotional terrorism!" Owen threw his hands up, nearly sending his lunch into orbit. "She stood there, dripping on my floor – my floor, Hikaru – looking like some fog-drenched Greek tragedy in towel form. Who does that? Normal people knock! Normal people say, 'Hey, I'm about to traumatize you with perfect bone structure, maybe put down sharp objects!'"

"Bone structure," Hikaru repeated, nodding with exaggerated seriousness. "Very traumatic."

"You don't understand," Owen groaned, dragging both hands down his face as if trying to physically remove the memory. "She sat on my bed like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial. Everything about her was white – hair, skin, towel – everything except those eyes. Those impossible red eyes that follow you around like creepy paintings in horror movies."

Hikaru's lips quirked upward. "I'm sensing this is less of a complaint and more of an appreciation post."

"She touched my face," Owen whispered, eyes wide with remembered shock. "My face, Hikaru. With her hand. Her unnaturally warm, definitely-not-human hand. And then she asked if she frightened me."

"And does she?" Hikaru asked, suddenly serious.

Owen stared into the middle distance, seeing something his friend couldn't. "Terrified," he admitted. "But like... aesthetically. She's terrifying in a way that makes your brain short-circuit and start playing elevator music instead of thoughts."

Hikaru burst out laughing, nearly choking on his soda. "Oh man, you've got it bad."

"This isn't funny!" Owen insisted, though his voice cracked traitorously in the middle. "She sat there looking all... vulnerable and honest, talking about how there's no warm rain in her world, how the stars feel heavy there, and how nights are 'poor of expectation' – whatever that means – and then she tells me I was the first person who could see her when she got here! Like that's a normal conversation to have with someone while wearing a towel!"

"Wait, back up," Hikaru said, waving his hands. "What do you mean, 'first person who could see her'? Like, metaphorically?"

Owen froze, mentally kicking himself. "It's – uh – one of her weird sayings. You know how she is. Always talking like she walked out of a fantasy novel." He laughed nervously. "Anyway, that's not even the worst part."

"Oh, there's a worst part? Beyond the cosmic towel encounter?"

Owen leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a haunted whisper. "She looked me in the eye – those impossible red eyes, Hikaru – and said, 'I don't want to be alone.'"

Hikaru blinked slowly. "That's it? That's the worst part?"

"Yes!" Owen hissed. "That's psychological warfare! You can't just say things like that while maintaining intense eye contact and smelling like... like rainwater and clean laundry and... and possibility!"

"Possibility has a smell?"

"Shut up. You know what I mean."

Hikaru studied his friend's flushed face with growing amusement. "So let me get this straight. The beautiful, mysterious transfer student came to your room after a shower, sat on your bed looking vulnerable, touched your face, and admitted she doesn't want to be alone. And your response was...?"

"I offered her a hoodie," Owen mumbled, slumping forward until his forehead hit the table with a dull thud.

There was a momentary silence before Hikaru dissolved into wheezing laughter. "A hoodie? That's your big romantic gesture? 'Excuse me, princess of my dreams, would you like some oversized cotton to hide all that intimidating beauty?'"

"I panicked!" Owen defended, straightening up. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Literally anything else?" Hikaru suggested, wiping tears from his eyes. "Man, you're hopeless. What did she say?"

"She said 'no thank you' in this voice – this tone – like I'd offered her a half-eaten sandwich from the trash. And then she started talking about being a symbol and a weapon, and how with me she's just... her." Owen's voice grew quieter, almost reverent. "No one's ever said anything like that to me before."

Hikaru's smile softened. "Sounds pretty intense."

"And then," Owen continued, his voice rising again, "after reducing me to an incoherent blob of confused hormones and existential questions, she hits me with: 'This household needs more income. Would you introduce me to your workplace?'"

The silence stretched for three full seconds before Hikaru exploded into laughter so violent he nearly fell off the bench.

"It's not funny!" Owen protested, though his lips twitched despite himself.

"It's hysterical!" Hikaru gasped between fits of laughter. "She's already your wife! You just didn't get the memo! 'This household' – like you're some married couple trying to budget for a vacation to Okinawa!"

"Take that back," Owen growled, pointing a threatening chopstick at his friend. "That's war crime territory. Don't even joke about things like that."

"Sure, sure," Hikaru agreed, not looking remotely sorry. "So what did you say? To the job question, I mean."

Owen groaned. "I don't even remember. Something about Ren needing help anyway. My brain wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders at that point."

"Understandable," Hikaru nodded, mercifully changing the subject. "Hey, did you see the news? Lowest cloud altitude ever recorded in Tokyo. Scientists are losing their minds. Some are saying it's connected to those aurora lights from before."

Owen froze, his water bottle halfway to his lips. "Clouds?"

"Yeah, man. They're hanging weirdly low – like, unnaturally low. People are freaking out, saying it's climate change or government experiments or whatever." Hikaru's eyes gleamed with conspiracy enthusiasm. "I think it's related to those lights we saw. Classic alien weather manipulation."

Owen snorted, setting his bottle down. "Actually, speaking of ridiculous theories, did you know your new bestie Lilith is apparently a conspiracy nut too?"

"No way," Hikaru breathed, looking delighted. "Seriously?"

"Oh yeah," Owen continued, feeling a strange blend of relief and guilt at redirecting the conversation. "She's got this whole thing about how the aurora lights and these weird clouds are caused by – get this – 'interdimensional interference.'"

Hikaru leaned forward eagerly. "Go on."

"According to Her Royal Weirdness, it's another world 'interfering' with ours, sending someone or something here." Owen waved his hands in mock mysticism. "The worlds are apparently pushing against each other like same-pole magnets, creating atmospheric disturbances."

"That... actually kind of makes sense," Hikaru said thoughtfully.

"Don't you dare," Owen warned, pointing at him. "Don't you dare validate her insanity. I've got enough to deal with without you two forming a conspiracy club."

"But think about it! The aurora lights appeared right when she transferred in. The clouds started acting weird after that dodgeball incident where she—"

"No," Owen cut him off firmly. "No connecting supernatural dots. I refuse to encourage either of you."

They fell into momentary silence, finishing their lunches as students began filtering back into the courtyard, signaling the approaching end of break. Owen was just about to suggest heading back when Hikaru spoke again, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

"Dude. You're in love."

The words hit Owen like a truck. He froze, chopsticks suspended in midair, a piece of gyoza dangling precariously from them.

"What did you just say to me?" he whispered, turning to stare at Hikaru with the kind of horror usually reserved for witnessing puppies being kicked or finding mold on your last slice of pizza.

"You heard me," Hikaru replied calmly, unfazed by the death glare being aimed at him. "You're completely, utterly in love with her."

"Take it back," Owen demanded, voice rising slightly. "Take it back right now. That's – that's like saying pollution is good for the environment or that the moon landing was real."

"But the moon landing was—"

"Not the point! The point is you're speaking absolute nonsense. Cosmic-level garbage. The kind of statements that make physicists cry themselves to sleep."

Hikaru just smiled – that infuriating, knowing smile that made Owen want to throw his bento at him.

"You spent fifteen minutes describing her eyes, man. You remembered exactly what she said about stars and rain. You offered her your clothing. You're basically writing poetry about how she smells. If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"It's – it's justified concern!" Owen spluttered, feeling heat creep up his neck. "She's living in my apartment! She's disrupting my life! She's..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words to complete his protest.

"She's making you feel things you don't know how to process," Hikaru finished for him, his tone unexpectedly kind. "It's okay, man. It happens to the best of us."

Owen's phone buzzed in his pocket, offering blessed salvation from having to respond. He fumbled it out, glancing at the screen – and immediately regretted it.

Lilith: What time should I arrive at the store tomorrow? I've prepared a formal introduction for your manager.

He stared at the message for a long moment before slowly looking up at Hikaru, who was watching him with undisguised curiosity.

"She texted, didn't she?" Hikaru guessed. "Your face is doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"That thing where you look like someone just set you on fire but you're trying to act casual about it."

Owen showed the phone screen to Hikaru, who read it and promptly burst into fresh laughter.

"A formal introduction!" Hikaru wheezed. "Please tell me she's going to show up in full royal regalia. Please tell me she's going to address Ren as 'esteemed merchant of the Japanese Empire' or something equally amazing."

Despite himself, Owen felt a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Knowing her? Probably."

Hikaru wiped his eyes, looking at Owen with unexpected seriousness. "So when's the wedding?"

"I hate you," Owen replied without hesitation, but there was no real heat in it. "With the fiery passion of a thousand dying suns."

"That's what all the best men say," Hikaru grinned, standing up as the bell rang. "Come on, lover boy. We've got class."

As they walked back toward the school building, Owen found himself typing a reply:

4:30. Wear normal clothes. No royal titles. Ren already thinks you're weird enough.

He hesitated before adding:

And no touching anyone's face.

The response came almost immediately:

Only yours, then. Noted.

Owen nearly walked into a wall. Behind him, Hikaru's renewed laughter echoed across the courtyard, following him like a soundtrack to his increasingly complicated life.