Lunch was awkward. Painfully, excruciatingly awkward.

  We sat around the table, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the plates. Reimi sat at the end, nearest the back door. She ate three slices of pizza in about three minutes. She held the crust like it was something precious someone might try to snatch away.

  My parents watched her with heartbreaking sympathy.

  I watched her with terror, knowing that the 'scared runaway' was really a heavily-armed super-soldier who could decapitate a hippo with a punch. Althea picked at her food, her eyes glued to her phone. She was typing something to Linda, who was fidgeting nervously in her seat.

  "So, Reimi," Mom asked gently, pouring a glass of milk. "Where are you from originally? You have an accent."

  Reimi paused mid-chew. "Around."

  "Around?"

  "Here and there," Reimi said. "I... didn't have a normal upbringing."

  "I see," Mom said. She reached out to put a hand on Reimi's forearm.

  Oh god, I thought, my knuckles turning white as I gripped my fork.

  Don't flip her, Reimi. Don't engage CQC protocols on my mother. Please, please please.

  Reimi stiffened. Her muscles coiled visibly under the cartoon cat shirt. But she didn't pull away. She looked at Mom's hand like it was a foreign object, something dangerous but curious.

  "You're safe here, honey," Mom said softly, quickly taking it away. "Whatever you're running from... it's not in this kitchen."

  Reimi looked at Mom. For a second, the hard, cynical mask slipped. She looked... lost.

  "Everything is somewhere," Reimi muttered, pulling her arm back slowly.

  "Well, you're welcome to stay," Dad said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "We have the guest room upstairs. Clean sheets. A lock on the door."

  Reimi froze. She looked at the ceiling, then at the floor.

  "No upstairs," she said instantly.

  "Why not?" Mom asked. "It's much more comfortable."

  "Too many windows," Reimi said. She took a bite of crust. "Streetlights. Noise. I prefer... um, I don't want to impose, but the basement is nice."

  "Basement?" Dad echoed, his eyebrows rising. "Sweetheart, we don't even have a proper bed down there. Just a couch."

  "I prefer it." Reimi set the crust down. Her fingers twitched. "It's... enclosed. I feel safer. It's quiet."

  Dad and Mom shared a look. They were having a silent conversation that lasted a few seconds. Mom gave a subtle nod. Dad turned back to Reimi, his expression soft.

  "Alright," he said. "We can drag the mattress from the guest room down to the basement if that's better for you. But there are some ground rules, alright? We're not going to interrogate you or pry. You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about. But if you're staying here, I expect you to respect this house. Respect the people in it. If you steal, or lie, or hurt someone, we're going to have to ask you to leave."

  Reimi nodded. "I understand."

  "Also, you can't keep sleeping in subway tunnels," Mom added firmly. "You're going to get yourself hurt."

  "I can handle myself," Reimi said quietly.

  She reached for a fifth slice, then stopped. She looked at the window and tensed up briefly, where the sun was shining on the backyard.

  "I need some air," she announced abruptly, standing up.

  "What? Now?" Mom asked. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine," Reimi said quickly, pushing back her chair. "I just... need to move. I'll be back in a few minutes. It's too crowded in here. I need to... walk. Check the neighborhood."

  "Do you want company?" Althea offered brightly. "We could—"

  "No," Reimi cut her off. "Sorry. It's not personal. I hope you understand. I just need to... think."

  Dad held up a hand. "It's okay, Althea. If Reimi needs space, we'll give her space. Reimi, you need to take a key. The front door locks automatically. Don't get locked out."

  Reimi hesitated, but my father walked over and handed her a keyring. She stared at it like it was an alien object, then gingerly took it.

  "Thank you," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'll return soon."

  "Be back by dinner!" Mom called out, her voice trailing off as Reimi stepped out into the sunlight and immediately vanished around the side of the house, moving with a speed that was definitely not normal for a runaway teenager.

  "Well," Mom sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. "She's a skittish one. But I've met worse."

  "Is it a good idea to leave her wandering around the neighborhood?" Linda asked nervously.

  "She looks she's around your age," Dad said, giving Linda a stern look. "She can certainly make her own decisions. I just hope she doesn't do anything stupid."

  He turned to me, fixing me with a firm stare. "Maya. You're the one who brought her here. Do you think she'll be okay?"

  "Um, yeah," I stammered. I was still processing the fact that my mother had patted Reimi on the shoulder and not died instantly. "She's just, um... really paranoid. And tired. And traumatized. And hungry."

  "That's one word for it," Dad muttered, watching as Reimi disappeared from the window, heading down the street. "Poor thing looked like she was starving herself."

  "Probably hasn't had a decent meal in weeks," Mom agreed sadly. "She seems like a good kid. Just needs a little stability. And a shower. A long shower."

  I bit back a laugh. Mom was right. Reimi had this weird, gritty smell to her right now, like she'd been bathing in a sauna full of sweat. It was a bit unnerving. But compared to the dungeons, it was a massive improvement.

  "We can get her some clothes and a phone tomorrow," Dad said, leaning back in his chair. "But for now, let's give her some space. If she wants to go walk around, that's fine. It's a nice day."

  "Linda said she helped you guys pick the lock on the maintenance hatch?" Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Yeah," I said, my voice a little too high-pitched. "She, uh, knows her way around a bobby pin, that's for sure."

  Nevermind that she'd actually kicked a steel vault door off its hinges like it was made of cardboard. That was a bit more than 'bobby pin proficiency'.

  "Interesting skill set for a random girl you met in the dungeon," Dad said. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "She have a record?"

  "I don't know!" I said, a little too fast. "I mean, maybe? Probably, I don't know."

  Dad's eyes narrowed slightly. "Maya, I'm going to be blunt here. I don't want you hanging around with any criminals."

  I swallowed nervously. "I'm... not?"

  He gave me a hard stare, then sighed and shook his head. "Okay. Okay. I trust you. Just... be careful, alright? Reimi seems like a troubled young woman, and I don't want you getting mixed up in anything dangerous. That means no more wandering around in the restricted sections of the tunnels."

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Understood," I said quickly.

  We'd all come up with a story before bringing her unconscious body home last night: Reimi was a random runaway we'd found in the Harrison section of the dungeon, and we'd gotten her out before it collapsed. And she'd helped us out a lot.

  It was technically true, minus a few hundred monsters that were way over the projected difficulty curve. We'd just left out the part where Reimi was the one who killed the monsters and saved our lives.

  I didn't want to think about how my dad would react if he knew. He wasn't a strict person.

  But he was the kind of guy who took his responsibility as a parent very seriously. And I wasn't sure how he'd feel about his daughter running around with someone who could bend steel beams with her fingers.

  Especially when she was supposed to be the leader.

  "Also," Dad added, "if Reimi is going to stay with us, I'm going to have to make some calls. I don't want to get the cops involved, but we can't have a minor living here without some kind of paperwork. Do you have any idea where she's from?"

  "Um... Japan I think," I said lamely. "She, uh, she didn't say much about her past."

  "Well, we'll have to get some answers from her sooner or later." Dad sighed. "For now, let's just focus on getting her settled in. It's going to take some time for her to adjust."

  "Sounds like a plan," I said, forcing a smile.

  "And no more going into the dungeons unsupervised."

  I froze, looking up at him. "What?"

  "You heard me," Dad said sternly. "You're still a Class 1 rookie, and you're not cleared to enter the dungeon without a chaperone. If you keep breaking the rules, you're going to get in serious trouble."

  "Trouble?" Althea asked, looking concerned. "What kind of trouble?"

  "The legal kind," Dad answered. "You're not kids anymore. You're not in elementary school. You're not on a playground. When you enter that dungeon, there are real, actual consequences for your actions. You could get fined. You could get arrested. You could get banned from ever entering an Association-claimed dungeon ever again. And not all dungeons are under their jurisdiction, of course, but that's another risk entirely. The Association is a governing body. They have standards, protocols, and accountability. The private and public sectors do not necessarily have to conform to those same standards. Some of them have been outright disasters. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  "Y-Yes," I stammered. I knew he was right, but it still felt like a punch in the gut.

  "Good," Dad said, his voice softening. "I know you want to help people. That's a good thing. But you need to do it responsibly. If you want to be a Hero, you can't cut corners. You can't break the rules. Because if you do, you're going to end up in jail or dead."

  "G-Got it," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I promise."

  Ding-Dong.

  The doorbell rang.

  It wasn't the frantic ringing of a friend. It was a single, authoritative chime.

  It was 2:30 PM.

  Dad frowned, checking his watch. "Who is that? We weren't expecting anyone else, were we?"

  "I'll get it!" I shouted, panic spiking again. "It's probably... uh... Althea's homework! She forgot it!"

  "My homework delivers itself?" Althea whispered.

  "Just go with it!" I hissed.

  I ran to the front hall, skidding on the hardwood. I threw the door open, praying for a neighbor.

  Standing on the porch was a man.

  He was tall, wearing a charcoal-gray suit that looked expensive but boring. He had sharp cheekbones, slicked-back salt and pepper hair, and wire-rimmed glasses that caught the afternoon sun. He held a tablet in one hand.

  He didn't look like a villain. He looked like the scariest thing in the world: a bureaucrat.

  "Good afternoon," he said. His voice was smooth, polite, and completely devoid of warmth. "This is the Hoshino residence?"

  "Um," I squeaked. "Yes?"

  Dad stepped up behind me, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His posture shifted instantly - spine straightening, chin lifting. The 'Retired Sentinel' mode.

  "Can I help you?" Dad asked.

  The man smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

  "I'm Inspector Thorne," he said, flashing a holographic badge from his tablet. "Tri-state Sentinel Association. I apologize for the intrusion so soon after your return, Mr. Hoshino. Welcome back to New Jersey."

  Dad's eyes narrowed. "You tracked my flight?"

  "Standard procedure for registered personnel entering a high-activity zone," Thorne said smoothly. "May I come in? It's a routine inquiry regarding a localized mana anomaly."

  "What kind of anomaly?" Dad asked, blocking the doorway.

  "A Class-3 discharge," Thorne said. He tapped his tablet. "Traced to this grid coordinate. Roughly eighteen hours ago."

  The blood drained from my face. Eighteen hours ago. That was when we brought Reimi home. That was when she... did whatever she did to collapse the dungeon.

  "A Class-3?" Dad laughed, a short, incredulous sound. "Inspector, I'm retired. Same for my wife. My daughter is fifteen. Unless our microwave malfunctioned, you have the wrong house."

  "The sensors are quite precise," Thorne said, his voice dropping a fraction. "And the signature matches residual energy found at the Turnpike Collapse. We're just trying to rule out any... unregistered hazards. Monster leaks. That sort of thing."

  He leaned forward slightly. "You understand, Mr. Hoshino. We can't have dangerous, unregistered elements hiding in suburbia."

  I looked toward the backyard, where Reimi was probably scaling a fence right now.

  If he found her... if he scanned her...

  I reached into my pocket. My fingers brushed the hot, vibrating surface of the crystal lens Reimi had given me. The Decoy.

  I stepped out from behind my dad.

  "It was me," I said.

  Thorne looked down at me. He looked at my frilled dress which I'd shifted back into. He looked at my pigtails. He raised a single, skeptical eyebrow.

  "You?" Thorne asked, before clicking the device in his hand.

  "Level 15. Tier 1..." he muttered

  "I... I think I leveled up," I lied, my voice shaking.

  "Leveled up," Thorne repeated, looking amused. "To Class-3? That's Anti-Tank to Anti-Building classification, young lady. That's a steep curve for someone at level 15."

  "I got scared," I said. I pulled the Prismatic Lens out of my pocket and summoned my wand. It hummed with a terrifying, pink power. "In the tunnel. I got scared, and I just... pushed."

  Thorne looked at the lens. His amusement vanished. He looked at the mana radiating off it - dense, unstable, heavy.

  Dad looked at the lens. He looked at me.

  His eyes flashed green briefly, and then slowly, a look of dawn-breaking wonder mixed with absolute terror crossed his face.

  "A Limit Break," Dad whispered. "At Level 15?"

  "I think so," I squeaked.

  Thorne adjusted his glasses. He looked from the lens to my face. He didn't look scary anymore. He looked... interested.

  "Well," Thorne said, tapping his tablet. "Color me skeptical, but the data doesn't lie."

  He looked at my wand. Then at the house. Then at the neatly-trimmed hedge next to the door.

  "Would you care to demonstrate?" he asked. "If you could fire a test shot, just to confirm the intensity of the blast."

  I stared at the lens. I felt the pulsating power in my palm. I looked at my house. Then at my dad.

  "We don't have a target dummy," Dad said, looking worried.

  "Ah," Thorne smiled. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, metal cube the size of a golf ball. "Not to worry."

  He tossed it onto the road in front of the house. It hit the pavement, then unfolded, growing into a shimmering, silver statue of a man. It was vaguely humanoid, but without a face.

  There was a small logo on the chest, with the initials NJSA. engraved on it. It raised its arms, spreading its fingers. Small panels on its wrists opened, revealing glowing blue crystals.

  "Sentinel Association standard training golem," Thorne explained, gesturing to it. "Mana-hardened, kinetic-absorbent alloy. Perfectly safe, and designed to withstand and absorb heavy impacts. Please, take your shot. Consider it a field test."

  I stared at the golem. I felt a bead of sweat drip down my forehead.

  "Maya," Dad said gently, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You don't have to—"

  "I'm afraid we must insist," Thorne cut in. "For the safety of the neighborhood. If Ms. Hoshino is capable of a Class-3 discharge, she needs to register. And we need to confirm her attack output."

  He smiled thinly at my father. Crap. I wasn't made for politics, but even I could see the veiled threat.

  "You understand the importance of safety regulations, Mr. Hoshino."

  Dad looked at him. Then at me. Then back at the golem. He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging.

  "Just... be careful, Maya," Dad said softly. "And try to aim away from the house."

  I swallowed, my throat dry. I lifted my scepter, the pink crystal burning in my palm. I pointed it at the golem. The wand vibrated, humming with energy. It felt like holding a lightning bolt, wild and uncontrollable.

  Thorne tapped his tablet again, and the golem's panels flickered. It spread its arms wider, the crystals on its wrists glowing brighter.

  "Ready," Thorne said. He stepped back, behind me.

  The golem raised one hand, palm out. A blue, translucent bubble of light surrounded it. The air around it shimmered, like heat haze on a summer road.

  I took a deep breath. I focused on the golem, on the sensation of the power coursing through me, and I pushed.

  "Starlight.... Shine!"

  I screamed.

  And I fired.

  A brilliant, blinding pink beam of energy shot out of my scepter. It was like firing a laser cannon. The recoil nearly knocked me off my feet, and the force of the blast made me stumble backwards.

  The air around the golem rippled with the shockwave, the ground beneath it cratering with the impact. The beam slammed into the golem's shield with a deafening crack, the shield warping, bending inward like a soap bubble, before shattering with an echoing snap that made my ears ring.

  For a moment, it looked like the beam would fizzle out. But then it intensified, burning brighter, hotter, and louder. The golem's head snapped back. The ground under it shook. The air around it shimmered with heat. The golem was pushed back several inches, its feet carving two deep gouges into the lawn. The beam continued to pour out of my scepter, relentless, unstoppable. I felt my grip on the wand start to slip. I tightened my fingers, but it was like trying to hold onto a live wire. The golem's shield flickered again, and then, with a final, deafening crack, shattered into fragments.

  The golem let out an electronic whir. The beam punched straight through its chest, leaving a smoking, molten hole. The golem staggered, its arms flailing wildly. Sparks erupted from its chest.

  The beam flickered one last time and died. The golem fell backwards, crashing into the lawn, its limbs twitching spasmodically.

  I stood there, panting. My heart was pounding. My whole body was tingling, my hands numb. I could smell burning metal. I looked at my scepter, then at the smoking ruin of the golem.

  ...And at the smoking trail of melted grass leading all the way down through the trees leading to the front porch.

  Oops. Too much.

  "Huh," Thorne said, his voice flat. He looked at his tablet.

  Then he looked back at the golem, then at me.

  "Huh..."

  He stepped forward and poked the golem with the toe of his expensive shoe. The golem didn't respond.

  I stared at the golem. It was a smoking, sparking wreck. The hole in its chest glowed red-hot, dripping molten metal.

  I could have sworn I saw a small mushroom cloud dissipating over the wreckage.

  "Umm... surprise?" I squeaked.