Author's Note:
I wasn't planning to write a giant teddy bear in a monocle. But sometimes, that's how love stories begin — not with fireworks, but with rhythm. This is that first rhythm. Light on plot. Heavy on subtext. Watch closely. This is the softest foreshadowing you'll get.
---
They hit a few rides. She laughed more than she meant to. He never pushed, never postured. Just listened, adjusted, stayed present. They moved like two people figuring out a language neither of them had spoken aloud before.
Then came the tin duck shooting booth.
Handwritten sign:
"KING'S SHOT – 5 HITS = ULTIMATE PRIZE."
Prize: a ridiculous six-foot teddy bear with a monocle and a gold paper crown.
A teenager stormed off cursing under his breath. Sera folded her arms.
"This is rigged."
"Swapped barrels. Looser spread. Sped-up targets. One jitters. You'd need predictive math and divine luck."
"You sound disturbingly certain."
"I'm just… curious."
He stepped forward and handed over a bill. The booth operator smirked. "Good luck, man."
Niv didn't pose. Didn't flex. He just raised the gun — one-handed — and fired.
Ping.
Duck one dropped.
Ping.
Two.
Ping.
The jitter-duck.
Ping.
Four.
Ping.
Five.
The lights flared. Sir Reginald, King of Bears, descended from his hook with comedic majesty.
Niv turned and held it out like an absurd peace offering.
"Your Majesty," he said.
Sera stared. Then took it into her arms like someone accepting a dare and a secret at once.
"You waited until now to do that?"
"Didn't want to be rude."
They walked off, her carrying the bear, him still holding the Naruto plushie he'd picked up earlier.
---
Later, under a bruised lavender sky, they found a patch of grass away from the crowd. Sir Reginald slumped beside them like a royal corpse. Sera sat cross-legged, silent.
"That shot," she said at last.
"Which one?"
"The jitter duck. No hesitation. That wasn't instinct. That was training."
He was quiet. Then:
"Yeah."
She turned to study him — not the hoodie, not the voice. Him.
"How?"
"My father believed in precision. Guns, knives, archery. Control, always. He trained us young. Said if we were going to inherit enemies, we'd better be useful before we were targets."
She didn't flinch. She just nodded. Slowly.
"You're not normal."
"No. But I'm honest."
"You'll tell me more when you're ready."
He didn't answer. But the look he gave her wasn't resistance.
It was relief.
---
When they reached her car, the bear was still draped in her arms like a prizefighter too big to surrender.
Niv leaned against the door, casual.
"Your shadow's good," he said.
She arched a brow. "How far?"
"Hundred fifty meters. Café corner. Pretending to read."
She exhaled — not annoyed. Surprised.
"I didn't bring the others. Just him."
"I liked knowing he was there."
She didn't respond right away. Then, almost reluctantly, she smiled.
A real one. No smirk. No mask.
And this time, he saw the whole thing.