Chapter Text
Mitya waited by the rink exit with his keys in one hand and his phone in the other.
He had been ready to leave ten minutes ago.
Alyosha had said, I will be right back, then gone in the opposite direction from the exit.
That should have been Mitya’s first warning.
Through the corridor doors, he could still see part of the rink. Odette stood at the boards with one hand on the rail. Alyosha was beside her, holding his bag as though the weight of it had become a matter requiring serious consideration.
Neither appeared to be moving.
Mitya sent him a message.
mitya: are you leaving or moving in
Alyosha did not reach for his phone.
Of course he did not.
Mitya put his own away just as Diluc came through the corridor with his tablet tucked beneath one arm.
“Still here?”
“Apparently.”
Diluc followed his gaze through the glass.
“Give them a minute.”
“I have given them ten.”
“Then you are well practiced.”
Mitya looked at him.
Diluc’s expression remained composed, but there was something distinctly unhelpful about it.
“How is her ankle?”
“I told her we are modifying tomorrow’s session.”
“That was not what I asked.”
“No,” Diluc said.
Mitya waited.
Diluc glanced down at his tablet, then closed the cover.
“I want to see how she is after resting. If it is still bothering her, we stop guessing.”
Mitya nodded. That, at least, was an answer.
Through the corridor doors, Alyosha picked up Odette’s bag.
Odette immediately said something.
Alyosha put it down again.
Diluc watched for a moment.
“She has someone reminding her to leave now,” he said.
“He is taking a long time about it.”
“Perhaps that is why it is working.”
Before Mitya could answer, Diluc adjusted the tablet under his arm.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
Mitya watched him go.
Then he looked back toward the ice.
Alyosha and Odette were finally moving.
They came through the corridor side by side, not quite looking at one another. Alyosha’s usual stride had shortened enough that Odette did not have to hurry.
Mitya noticed.
He suspected Alyosha would find that extremely irritating.
“You sent me a message,” Alyosha said, checking his phone.
“I did.”
“I was busy.”
“You were standing still.”
Odette’s mouth twitched.
Alyosha saw it.
For a moment, the complaint he had been preparing seemed to leave him entirely.
Mitya looked down at his keys.
This was becoming embarrassing to witness.
“Are you both getting home?”
“Yes,” Odette said.
“Yes,” Alyosha repeated.
“Good.”
Odette adjusted her bag.
“Tomorrow,” she said, looking toward the doors. “Six thirty.”
Alyosha glanced at her.
“That is thirty minutes before—”
“I know.”
He stopped.
Mitya watched him reconsider whatever he had been about to say.
“All right.”
Odette looked at him then, briefly.
“Good night,” she said.
They left together.
Outside, beneath the awning, Alyosha said something else. Odette turned her head toward him. Mitya could not hear her answer, but he saw her lift one shoulder before they separated and headed in opposite directions.
He waited until they were out of sight, then turned toward the staff corridor.
“That was almost tender.”
Mitya stopped.
Vodyanitsa stood just inside the entrance.
Rain had darkened the shoulders of her coat. Her hair was loose now, a few damp strands caught against her cheek, and she was holding her phone without looking at it.
He had spent months seeing her arrive at the rink.
Usually, her attention went past him first.
Toward the ice. Toward Odette. Toward whichever corner of the building held the person she had come to find.
This time, she was looking directly at him.
“You came back,” he said.
“Yes.”
“For Odette?”
There was a small pause.
“I wanted to see if she was still here.”
“She just left.”
“With Alyosha?”
“They walked out together.”
Some of the tension eased around her mouth.
“Good.”
Mitya shifted his keys into his other hand.
“You missed her by a minute.”
“I see.”
He waited.
Vodyanitsa remained where she was.
Behind him, the rink attendant rolled a cart through the corridor. One wheel clicked every time it turned. Vodyanitsa glanced toward the sound, then back at Mitya.
“How was soundcheck?” he asked.
She blinked.
“Loud.”
“That seems intentional.”
“Not always in the right places.”
“Finished?”
“For now.”
He nodded.
She slipped her phone into her pocket.
“I should let you go.”
There it was: a perfectly reasonable end to the conversation.
Mitya found he did not want it.
“Have you eaten?”
Vodyanitsa’s eyebrows lifted.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether this is a question or the beginning of an argument.”
“A question.”
“Then yes.”
“When?”
Her expression changed.
Mitya looked toward the café across the street.
The windows were bright. Someone moved behind the counter, gesturing with enough energy that he could identify Hu Tao even through the rain.
“Come and eat something.”
“I said yes.”
“You did not answer the second question.”
“You ask too many.”
“Only two.”
“An unreasonable number.”
He opened the staff-room door and set his equipment bag inside. When he came back, Vodyanitsa was still waiting.
“One drink,” she said.
“And something to eat.”
“You negotiate badly.”
“You are still here.”
Her smile appeared slowly.
“Yes,” she said. “I am.”
Under the awning, Mitya opened his umbrella.
Vodyanitsa looked from it to the rain.
“That is a small umbrella.”
“It is a short walk.”
“That does not make it larger.”
He held it between them.
She stepped closer.
Not much. Just enough that the outside of her sleeve touched his coat.
Mitya adjusted his grip.
They crossed when the road cleared. Rain struck the umbrella in quick, light taps, louder than it had sounded from inside the rink.
Halfway across, Vodyanitsa glanced at his shoulder.
“You are getting wet.”
“So are you.”
“Not as much.”
Before he could answer, her hand closed around his wrist.
She moved the umbrella back toward the middle.
“There.”
Her fingers stayed a moment after the adjustment was finished.
Mitya looked ahead at the café door.
“Better?”
“For both of us.”
He could not think of anything sensible to say to that.
Fortunately, they had reached the pavement.
He opened the café door for her.
Warmth rushed out around them, carrying the smell of ginger, coffee, and something freshly toasted.
“I am telling you,” Hu Tao was saying, “mystery broth is memorable.”
“It is ginger broth,” Xingqiu replied.
“With additional ingredients.”
“Which Xiangling can list.”
“Then the mystery has a solution. That makes it a well-constructed mystery.”
Venti sat on a stool near the counter, his lyre resting against his knee.
“I support this. A compelling premise, an accessible price, a satisfying conclusion.”
“A menu item,” Xingqiu said, “should not require a narrative arc.”
“Then perhaps you should have considered that before proposing to Hu Tao. She—”
Hu Tao elbowed Venti before he could finish.
He broke off with a small, undignified sound.
Mitya stopped beside the umbrella stand.
Xingqiu’s gaze flicked toward the door.
Hu Tao followed it. For a moment, her left hand went still against the counter.
Venti looked between them, then smiled into his cup.
“She has,” he continued smoothly, “a remarkable instinct for branding.”
“Remarkable recovery,” Vodyanitsa said.
“Thank you. Years of practice.”
Hu Tao gave him a look that promised a conversation later.
Xingqiu’s mouth curved, but he said nothing.
As Hu Tao reached for the chalkboard marker, the light caught her left hand.
Mitya saw the ring.
A narrow band. A small bright detail he did not remember from the last time he had been here.
Beside him, Vodyanitsa’s gaze paused in the same place.
Then she looked at him.
It was barely a glance.
Enough.
Hu Tao reached across Xingqiu for the marker. He caught her hand before she could take it, his thumb settling briefly beside the ring.
“The menu stays,” he said.
Hu Tao looked down at their hands, then up at him.
“For tonight.”
“For tonight,” he agreed.
Mitya set the umbrella in the stand.
Vodyanitsa began unbuttoning her coat.
Neither asked a question.
Hu Tao and Xingqiu could tell them when they wanted to.
“Settle this,” Hu Tao said, turning toward them with renewed purpose. “Mystery broth?”
“No,” Mitya said.
“Yes,” Vodyanitsa said at the same time.
Hu Tao pointed at her.
“Excellent. A discerning customer.”
“You are not asking customers,” Xingqiu said. “You are recruiting allies.”
“That is how a business grows.”
Chongyun emerged from behind the coffee machine.
“Table by the heater?”
“Please,” Vodyanitsa said.
Hu Tao’s attention shifted toward the dripping umbrella.
Then toward Mitya’s damp shoulder.
Then toward Vodyanitsa.
“Together in the rain,” she said.
Vodyanitsa stopped with one sleeve halfway off.
“Do not.”
Venti’s hand was already on his lyre.
“Oh, that has a melody.”
“No,” Xingqiu said.
Hu Tao turned toward Venti.
“Together in the rain,” she sang, trying the phrase against his first few notes.
He found a chord beneath it.
“Two weary souls beneath one borrowed sky—”
“One umbrella tilting,” Hu Tao continued, “as the evening passes by—”
“We crossed the street,” Mitya said.
Venti nodded without stopping.
“A modest distance. A profound journey.”
“It was twenty seconds.”
“Some people need less time,” Hu Tao said.
Vodyanitsa looked at the ceiling.
Mitya made the mistake of looking at her.
She was smiling.
Trying not to, but smiling.
Venti changed chords.
“And if the rain keeps falling—”
“Perhaps they will walk slowly,” Hu Tao finished.
For a moment, Mitya could hear the rain against the umbrella again.
Vodyanitsa’s hand around his wrist.
For both of us.
Xingqiu placed two menus on the counter.
“The table by the heater is available to anyone seeking refuge from this performance.”
“We are not finished,” Hu Tao said.
“They are hungry.”
“That is the second verse.”
Mitya took Vodyanitsa’s coat before she could drape it over the nearest chair.
She looked at him.
“The heater,” he said, hanging it on the hook beside their table. “It will dry better there.”
“Practical.”
“Usually.”
Behind them, Venti tried another version of the chorus.
Vodyanitsa sat down.
“You realize they will remember this forever.”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret the invitation?”
Mitya pulled out his chair.
“No.”
She looked down at the menu.
He sat before she could see how carefully he was avoiding a smile.
Chongyun brought tea.
Xiangling followed with broth and dumplings before either of them had ordered.
“You both look cold,” she said.
“Apparently everyone has noticed,” Vodyanitsa replied.
“You are sitting beside the heater in damp clothes. You have not made it difficult.”
Xiangling set down the bowls.
Chongyun reached past her to move one away from the edge of the table.
She caught his wrist.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
She turned his hand over and examined a small red mark near his thumb.
“Did you catch that on the tray?”
“It is nothing.”
“You could have asked me to carry it.”
“You were carrying the bowls.”
“I have two hands.”
“Both occupied.”
Xiangling looked as though she wanted to argue. Instead, she rubbed her thumb lightly over the unmarked part of his hand and let him go.
“There is ointment by the sink.”
“I know.”
“Use it.”
“I will.”
She watched until he started back toward the counter.
Then she turned to their table.
“Eat. Tell me if it needs anything.”
“Does the mystery affect the price?” Mitya asked.
Xiangling looked over her shoulder.
“Do not encourage them.”
Vodyanitsa laughed into her tea.
Mitya liked the sound.
He had heard her sing. He knew what she sounded like when she meant to fill a room.
This was different.
He found himself waiting for it again.
For a while, they ate without speaking. Behind the counter, Xingqiu counted the till while Hu Tao leaned beside him, apparently still campaigning for the broth. Venti supplied occasional legal arguments on her behalf.
Vodyanitsa looked through the window at the dark rink entrance.
“How was Odette, really?”
Mitya set down his spoon.
“Tired. Sore. Irritated that anyone noticed.”
“She gets quiet when it is bad.”
“I know.”
Vodyanitsa looked back at him.
He considered his answer.
“Alyosha noticed too.”
“Yes,” she said softly. “I thought he might.”
“Diluc is changing tomorrow’s session.”
“Will she let him?”
“She has already agreed.”
Vodyanitsa exhaled.
It was small, but he saw how much of her posture changed with it.
“You could have led with that.”
“You asked how she was.”
“Still.”
“All right. Next time, the useful information first.”
“Thank you.”
She took another spoonful of broth.
Then she looked at him more closely.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
“You are tired too.”
“I worked.”
“So did I.”
“And you came back.”
Vodyanitsa’s spoon paused.
Mitya had not intended to bring them there quite so directly.
He could have changed the subject. Asked about the venue. Said something about the weather.
Instead, he waited.
“I did want to check on Odette,” she said.
“I believe you.”
“But I knew practice would be over.”
“Yes.”
Her fingertip moved along the handle of her spoon.
“I thought you might still be here.”
Mitya looked at her.
Vodyanitsa held his gaze for a moment, then glanced toward the counter.
Hu Tao was arguing with Xingqiu over a receipt. No one appeared to be listening.
“I wanted to see you,” she said.
Mitya’s hand tightened around his mug.
There were several answers he could have given.
Something light. Something that let her pretend she had meant it casually.
He did not want to give her an escape she had not asked for.
“I am glad you did.”
She looked back at him.
“Even with the song?”
“Despite the song.”
“That is a strong endorsement.”
“I thought so.”
Her smile warmed.
Mitya looked at the table before he could spend too long looking at her.
“You can come without an excuse,” he said.
Vodyanitsa was quiet.
Then she asked, “Can I?”
He looked up.
“Yes.”
Outside, a car moved through the rain, its headlights sliding across the window and briefly lighting her face.
“Then next time,” she said, “I will.”
By the time Xiangling cleared their bowls, the last customer had left.
Xingqiu locked the door, leaving the others to finish closing at their own pace.
Hu Tao went to the vending machine.
Mitya knew because every conversation in the café gradually stopped.
Xingqiu looked up from the till.
Venti lowered his cup.
Xiangling, coming out of the kitchen with a towel over her shoulder, stopped in the doorway.
Hu Tao stood before the machine with a coin between two fingers.
“What?” she asked.
No one answered.
“I own it.”
“That has not helped so far,” Xingqiu said.
Venti reached for his lyre.
“Not yet,” Hu Tao told him. “Let us give diplomacy a chance.”
Vodyanitsa folded her hands in front of her mouth.
Mitya looked at her.
She shook her head once.
Do not make me laugh.
He looked away.
Hu Tao inserted the coin.
Pressed the button.
The spiral turned.
The packet tipped forward, dropped against the shelf below, and bounced neatly sideways into a space where it had no business fitting.
Out of reach.
Everyone stared.
Hu Tao leaned closer to the glass.
Then she straightened.
“My own vending machine hates me.”
Venti struck a mournful chord.
“Yes,” Hu Tao said immediately. “That.”
He began to sing.
“She built it a home, she paid for its light—”
“And it stole my dinner in plain sight,” Hu Tao supplied.
“You have eaten dinner,” Xingqiu said.
“It stole my emotional dinner.”
Venti changed chords to accommodate the extra syllables.
Xiangling laughed.
“You two have been doing this since high school.”
“Because they have been doing this since high school,” Hu Tao replied, pointing at the machine.
“An organized campaign,” Venti said.
“Against one woman.”
“A long and bitter conflict.”
Xiangling put the towel down.
“Oh, I remember the video.”
Venti stopped playing.
Hu Tao turned.
“The video.”
Mitya felt Vodyanitsa’s knee touch his beneath the table.
Neither shifted away.
“What video?” he asked.
Venti smiled.
It was the expression of a man who had just been offered funding.
The video was twenty-three seconds long.
Venti already had it open by the time he reached their table.
“Historical evidence,” he said, setting his phone where everyone could see.
The image was dark and extremely shaky.
His younger voice whispered from behind the camera.
“Okay. I’m near the gym vending machine.”
The camera swung around.
An empty school hallway appeared. Against the wall stood a vending machine, lit from within.
Venti zoomed in much too far.
The picture dissolved into grain.
“Look at it.”
Nothing happened.
The machine hummed.
Venti gasped.
“Did you hear that?”
The camera jerked down.
“What the fuck,” his younger self whispered. “It definitely looked at me.”
The video ended.
Silence.
Then Xiangling said, “It did not look at you.”
“It definitely looked at me,” Venti replied.
Hu Tao nodded.
“It did.”
Mitya stared at the paused final frame.
Beside him, Vodyanitsa took a very careful drink of tea.
“That,” Xingqiu said, “is an appliance.”
“With intent,” Hu Tao said.
“It has no intent.”
“It had enough intent to make him run.”
“I withdrew,” Venti corrected.
Vodyanitsa set her cup down with unnecessary precision.
Mitya kept his eyes on the phone.
“You went there alone?”
“For research.”
“At night?”
“The atmosphere was better.”
Vodyanitsa made a small sound.
Venti turned toward her.
“Something to add, Vody?”
“No,” she said quickly.
Mitya could see laughter gathering at the corners of her eyes.
He knew that if she looked at him, they would both lose.
Venti picked up his phone.
“Yoimiya remembers.”
“Call her,” Hu Tao said.
Xingqiu leaned back against the counter.
“You are about to interrupt someone’s evening to ask whether a vending machine made eye contact.”
“Yes,” Venti said.
Then he called.
Yoimiya answered with her hair gathered loosely over one shoulder and a pencil tucked behind her ear.
“Hi! What happened?”
“We need a witness,” Venti said.
She looked at him.
Then at Hu Tao leaning into frame.
“That is a worrying opening.”
“Tell them the gym vending machine looked at Venti,” Hu Tao said.
Yoimiya blinked.
“The what?”
“The gym vending machine.”
“Which one?”
“In high school.”
There was a pause.
“Oh. Wait. Is this about the snack thing?”
“The campaign,” Venti said.
“The snack thing,” Xingqiu repeated.
Yoimiya smiled.
“I remember the hats.”
“The video,” Hu Tao said.
“What video?”
Venti looked offended.
“You do not remember?”
“I remember a lot of vending-machine-related nonsense. Narrow it down.”
Xiangling started laughing again.
Venti tapped his screen.
“I am sending it.”
He returned to the video still open on his phone and forwarded it to her. A moment later, Yoimiya glanced down as the notification arrived.
“Twenty-three seconds,” she read. “That seems manageable.”
“Watch carefully.”
“We have,” Xingqiu said. “Nothing happens.”
Yoimiya opened it.
The younger Venti’s whisper came faintly through the call.
“Okay. I’m near the gym vending machine.”
Her eyebrows rose.
Then her mouth opened.
“Oh my god.”
She listened through the rest, already beginning to laugh.
By the final whispered accusation, she had bent forward out of frame.
Venti waited with the solemn patience of someone expecting a verdict.
Yoimiya reappeared, wiping beneath one eye.
“I remember now.”
“Thank you.”
“You sneaked out at night to film it.”
“Investigative work.”
“You were whispering.”
“It was a covert operation.”
“You sent this to us like you had discovered something.”
“I had.”
Yoimiya pressed her lips together.
Mitya recognized the effort.
Beside him, Vodyanitsa was making exactly the same face.
“What is happening?” a voice asked from somewhere beyond Yoimiya’s screen.
She turned.
“Venti is defending a video he made in high school.”
A pause.
“Successfully?”
“No,” Xingqiu said.
“Yes,” Hu Tao and Venti said together.
Kazuha appeared beside Yoimiya, carrying a mug.
He looked at the crowded café visible through the call, then at her.
“What video?”
“You were not in that chat,” she said. “You need context.”
“I suspect I need less.”
Venti leaned toward the phone.
“I sent it to her. Watch.”
Yoimiya moved her screen so Kazuha could see and played the clip again.
Mitya watched their faces this time.
Yoimiya was already fighting a smile.
Kazuha watched with quiet concentration, as though he were prepared to give the evidence a fair hearing despite every indication that it did not deserve one.
The machine hummed.
The camera dropped.
“It definitely looked at me.”
The clip ended.
Yoimiya turned toward Kazuha.
Kazuha looked at her.
A tiny lift of his eyebrow.
A fractional shake of her head.
Her mouth twitched.
His eyes narrowed with unmistakable resignation.
The entire exchange lasted perhaps a second.
Mitya could not have said exactly what they had argued about.
He knew who had won.
Yoimiya turned back toward the call.
“I think it looked at him.”
Venti threw up his free hand.
“Thank you.”
Hu Tao slapped the counter.
“Independent confirmation.”
Kazuha took a drink from his mug.
“Independent is generous.”
Yoimiya bumped his shoulder with hers.
“You saw it.”
“I saw the video.”
“And?”
“And I understand why you were all difficult to supervise.”
“We were delightful.”
“Of course.”
Mitya looked down.
Vodyanitsa’s knee pressed more firmly against his.
He looked at her.
She was staring straight ahead with the composure of someone using every available resource to maintain it.
He leaned slightly closer.
“Breathe,” he murmured.
“That will make it worse.”
Her answer was so quiet only he could hear it.
He smiled into his cup.
“Wait,” Yoimiya said. “I can find the messages.”
Venti went still.
Hu Tao straightened behind the counter.
“The original investigation.”
“The original nonsense,” Xingqiu said.
Yoimiya was already looking down at her phone.
“Same thing. Give me a second.”
“What are you searching?” Kazuha asked.
“Vending machine.”
He glanced at her screen.
“In the vending machine survivors association?”
Yoimiya paused.
Then she laughed.
“Right. That might take a while.”
“It was an active field of research,” Venti said.
“It was your entire personality for a week,” Xiangling replied.
“A productive week.”
Mitya watched Yoimiya scroll, stop, and suddenly lean closer to her screen.
“Oh, I found the video in the chat. The messages are right above it.”
Hu Tao leaned toward Venti’s phone.
“Find the poster.”
“I am getting there.”
A moment later, Mitya’s phone lit up.
The notification came from vending machine survivors association.
It was the same conversation the others had used in high school, still accumulating messages years later. Mitya had only been part of it for months. Somewhere far above his first message were entire evenings he had never seen.
yoimiya: found it
yoimiya: sending the whole conversation
yoimiya: nobody gets to claim they were being reasonable 😭
The first screenshot arrived.
Then another.
Then several more.
Xingqiu’s phone vibrated against the counter.
“How much conversation was there?”
“About an hour,” Yoimiya said.
“An hour.”
“We had a lot to discuss.”
Vodyanitsa picked up her phone.
Mitya opened the first screenshot before she had finished unlocking hers.
“Here,” he said, turning his screen toward her.
She moved her chair a little closer.
Their shoulders touched.
This time, there was no umbrella requiring it.
At the top of the first screenshot, Venti was asking an important question.
7:12 PM
venti: important question
lumine: no
venti: u don’t even know what i’m gonna ask
lumine: i know u well enough to say no early.
hu tao: let him speak
lumine: u are the least objective person here.
venti: ty hu tao. someone respects artistic inquiry.
xiangling: what’s the question venti??
venti: do vending machines have cameras
lumine: why
venti: answer the question first.
kokomi: Some models do have cameras or sensors, depending on their payment system and location.
venti: okay so maybe they can see us.
lumine: venti.
venti: not like see us see us.
yoimiya: that sentence did not make it better 😭
venti: i’m saying maybe it recognizes hu tao.
hu tao: I KNEW IT.
lumine: no, you did not.
hu tao: i knew it spiritually.
fischl: The chrome legion marks its enemies by sight. Their glass eyes do not sleep.
furina: Finally, a motive. The machine has identified Hu Tao as a threat.
ayaka: Could it simply be a coincidence?
hu tao: ayaka :(
ayaka: I am only asking.
hu tao: it has been seven incidents.
kokomi: Seven documented incidents.
venti: seven is a suspicious number.
lumine: how is seven suspicious.
venti: it’s one away from eight.
lumine: what does that mean.
venti: idk. it felt important.
yoimiya: HE IS SO SERIOUS ABOUT IT TOO 😭
venti: thank u.
Vodyanitsa closed her eyes.
Mitya felt the first quiet shake of her laughter against his shoulder.
He kept looking at the screen.
It did not help.
“Seven,” he said under his breath.
“Do not.”
“One away from eight.”
“Mitya.”
He stopped.
Mostly because he had started laughing too.
It escaped before he could prevent it: a short, surprised sound that made Vodyanitsa look up at him.
Her expression changed.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
“I have not heard you do that much.”
“Laugh?”
“Like that.”
He looked back at the phone, suddenly more aware of her shoulder against his than he had been a moment before.
“Keep reading,” she said softly.
He moved to the next screenshot.
7:17 PM
venti: okay plan
lumine: absolutely not.
venti: u haven’t heard it.
lumine: it does not matter.
hu tao: i want to hear it.
venti: tomorrow, everyone walks past the cafeteria machine separately.
kokomi: For observation?
venti: yes.
venti: then hu tao walks past it.
xiangling: okay??
venti: then i play a warning song on my lyre.
lumine: no.
venti: and then we watch its reaction.
lumine: venti, it is a vending machine.
venti: then it should have nothing to hide.
furina: I see no flaw in this logic.
lumine: of course you don’t.
fischl: A challenge delivered by music is still a challenge. The iron beast shall tremble before the windborne hymn.
yoimiya: wait wait wait. can i record it??
lumine: no.
yoimiya: pls.
lumine: no.
yoimiya: i’ll keep it private.
lumine: that makes it worse somehow.
kokomi: It could establish whether Hu Tao’s presence is a relevant variable.
lumine: Kokomi.
kokomi: I am not saying the song is necessary.
venti: victory.
kokomi: I am saying the comparison test has some value.
hu tao: see? operation machine fear begins tomorrow.
lumine: that is not what it is called.
venti: too late. i made a poster.
lumine: u made a what.
venti: [image attached]
The poster filled the next screenshot.
Glittery green writing covered a sheet of notebook paper.
OPERATION: MAKE THE MACHINE FEAR US.
Beneath it, a drawn Hu Tao held a snack like a sword. Venti stood beside her with a tiny lyre. The vending machine had angry red eyes and wore a small crown.
hu tao: THIS IS BEAUTIFUL
xiangling: WHY DOES THE MACHINE HAVE A CROWN 😭
venti: it thinks it’s better than us.
lumine: it is a machine that sells drinks.
venti: and yet it has denied hu tao seaweed chips.
furina: A tyrant always begins with small cruelties.
ayaka: I do not think that is always true.
fischl: But it is true here.
ayaka: …Perhaps.
hu tao: ayaka is joining us.
ayaka: I did not say that.
hu tao: too late.
Chongyun leaned over Xiangling’s shoulder to see.
“The crown was part of the accusation?”
“Essential to it,” Venti said.
Xiangling laughed and reached back without looking.
Chongyun handed her the tea he had brought.
She took it, then caught his sleeve before he could straighten.
“Stay. You need to see the song.”
“I am beginning to think I do not.”
“You do.”
He stayed.
At their table, Vodyanitsa reached toward Mitya’s phone, then stopped.
“May I?”
He handed it to her.
She enlarged the poster.
For several seconds, she studied the tiny drawn lyre.
“What?” Mitya asked.
“The attention to detail.”
“I was committed,” Venti said from across the room.
“We can see that,” she replied.
Her voice was perfectly steady.
Her shoulder was shaking against Mitya’s.
He let her hold the phone while they read the next screenshots.
7:26 PM
venti: also
venti: who wants to hear the song i’m playing tomorrow
lumine: no one.
venti: rude.
yoimiya: ME
xiangling: me too!!
furina: Naturally.
fischl: Let the hymn of reckoning be heard.
kokomi: I would like to review the lyrics before they are performed in public.
venti: why
kokomi: Risk assessment.
venti: it’s not that bad.
lumine: show us.
venti:
little machine made of glass
give hu tao her snack at last
if u steal her money too
she might come and kick at u
lumine: absolutely not.
hu tao: wait it’s kinda catchy.
lumine: no.
xiangling: it rhymes 😭
ayaka: Maybe the last line could be gentler?
venti:
if u steal her money too
she might be upset with u
hu tao: weak.
furina: Cowardly.
fischl: The blade has been dulled.
lumine: GOOD.
venti: okay okay fine. i’ll make it more subtle.
lumine: “more subtle” is not comforting.
Hu Tao began singing before Venti had picked up his lyre.
He found her key almost immediately.
On the call, Yoimiya joined in.
Kazuha watched her.
“You knew all the words.”
“It is four lines.”
“You remembered the melody.”
“It is a good melody.”
Venti pointed toward the phone.
“Thank you.”
“I did not say the lyrics were good.”
“An unnecessary distinction.”
Vodyanitsa lowered Mitya’s phone slightly.
“Was there ever a subtler version?”
“No,” Xiangling said.
“Yes,” Venti said at the same time.
Hu Tao considered it.
“Not meaningfully.”
Xingqiu smiled into his cup.
Mitya watched Vodyanitsa turn back to the screen. She had tucked one foot beneath her chair. Her other knee still rested against his.
She looked comfortable.
He was trying not to attach too much importance to that.
The effort was not going particularly well.
7:33 PM
venti: wait i have evidence too.
lumine: what evidence.
venti: [video attached]
The screenshot included the thumbnail of the dark hallway, the progress bar beneath it showing a length of twenty-three seconds.
“I sent the video separately already,” Yoimiya said. “I am not making everyone watch it a fourth time.”
“Some of us were new,” Kazuha reminded her.
“An experience you cannot undo,” Xingqiu said.
7:34 PM
yoimiya: VENTI 😭😭😭
xiangling: “it looked at me” IM SOBBING
lumine: why were u filming a vending machine alone in the dark.
venti: research.
lumine: at night.
venti: the vibes were better.
furina: He was conducting surveillance.
kokomi: The video does not show any movement.
venti: it moved emotionally.
kokomi: That cannot be measured.
venti: exactly. it is beyond science.
hu tao: this is why i trust u.
lumine: that is concerning.
fischl: The bard has witnessed the watchful gaze of the machine’s hidden soul.
ayaka: I think it may have just been reflecting the hallway lights.
venti: ayaka, u wound me.
ayaka: I’m sorry.
venti: don’t be. honesty is part of friendship.
hu tao: unless it’s about vending machines.
venti: exactly.
Vodyanitsa leaned forward, laughing into her hand.
Mitya took his phone back before she lowered it into the empty broth bowl.
“I cannot believe you defended this,” she managed.
“I am defending it now,” Hu Tao said.
“That is what concerns me.”
“You saw the video, Vody.”
“I saw a hallway.”
“And what was in the hallway?”
“A vending machine.”
“Exactly.”
Vodyanitsa looked at Mitya.
He shook his head.
“There is no safe answer.”
“I noticed.”
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither looked away.
Then his screen lit with another screenshot.
7:41 PM
venti: i’m bringing my lyre tomorrow.
lumine: obviously.
venti: i’m also bringing snacks.
xiangling: wait i thought i was snack support
venti: u are. i’m backup snack support.
hu tao: why do i need this much snack support.
venti: bc the enemy is powerful.
hu tao: fair.
lumine: the enemy is a vending machine.
venti: exactly. it has money. it has glass. it has refrigeration. it has an entire supply chain.
kokomi: That is technically true.
lumine: kokomi please stop validating him.
kokomi: I am validating the machine’s logistical advantages, not its morality.
furina: Its morality is nonexistent.
fischl: A cold heart behind colder glass.
yoimiya: “cold heart behind colder glass” wait that’s actually good
venti: putting that in the song.
lumine: no.
venti: too late.
Mitya read the line about the supply chain twice.
Vodyanitsa watched him.
“Do not agree with him.”
“I have not said anything.”
“You are considering it.”
“It is a fairly comprehensive list.”
She stared at him.
He kept his expression straight.
From the counter, Venti lifted his head.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Vodyanitsa said quickly.
Mitya looked down at his phone.
She nudged his knee.
He nudged hers back.
It was so small a movement that it should not have affected him.
He found himself smiling anyway.
7:50 PM
venti: okay final question
lumine: no.
venti: stop doing that :(
lumine: what is it.
venti: if i make little paper hats for everyone tomorrow, will u wear them
hu tao: yes
yoimiya: YES
xiangling: what kind of hats??
venti: tiny ones. like battle hats.
furina: Mine had better be worthy of a leader.
fischl: The Prinzessin shall accept a crown of midnight paper.
kokomi: Are they color-coded?
venti: obviously.
kokomi: Then yes.
ayaka: I think I will pass.
hu tao: ayaka :(
ayaka: I will still come with you.
hu tao: okay fine. that’s enough.
lumine: i am not wearing a paper hat.
venti: i made u a gold one.
lumine: no.
venti: it has a little star on it.
lumine: …No.
venti: that pause means yes.
lumine: it means i hate you.
venti: love u too.
“The hats,” Xiangling said fondly.
Yoimiya sent the next screenshot.
8:03 PM
venti: [image attached]
Mitya understood why Yoimiya had remembered them.
Eight small folded paper hats stood in a row on Venti’s desk. They were uneven and clearly made by hand, each with a name written across the front.
Hu Tao’s was black, with a little flame.
Lumine’s was gold, with a crooked star.
Yoimiya’s was orange, covered in tiny fireworks.
Xiangling’s was red, with a badly drawn bowl of noodles.
Ayaka’s was pale blue, with a snowflake.
Kokomi’s was purple, with a tiny fish.
Furina’s was navy blue, with a dramatic crown.
Fischl’s was black and violet, marked with a lightning bolt.
At the end sat an extra hat.
Green.
With a tiny lyre drawn on it.
“Oh,” Vodyanitsa said softly.
Mitya glanced at her.
She was smiling at the photograph.
Not laughing now.
“Mine is still in a box somewhere,” Xiangling said.
“Mine is in my desk,” Yoimiya replied. “I told you, the hats were the best part.”
“The investigation was the best part,” Venti said.
“The hats,” Hu Tao insisted.
He considered her.
“You kept yours?”
She looked mildly offended.
“You put a flame on it.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“Yes, I kept it.”
Venti’s expression softened before he could disguise it.
Xingqiu looked toward Hu Tao.
“The black paper one?”
She turned.
“You have seen it?”
“In the box with the old photographs.”
“Oh.”
He smiled.
“The flame is very recognizable.”
Hu Tao looked down at her hands.
Then she reached for his.
It was brief. Familiar. Her fingers slipped between his while she leaned against the counter, and the ring caught the light again.
Mitya looked toward his phone.
Vodyanitsa did the same.
Under the table, her knee remained against his.
There were things people could let each other keep until they were ready to share them.
He was beginning to appreciate that.
On the screen, Kazuha studied the hats.
“You made all nine?”
Venti nodded.
“They were color-coded.”
“Obviously,” Yoimiya said.
He looked at her.
She grinned.
“That was Kokomi’s condition.”
Mitya scrolled to the messages below the photograph.
yoimiya: AWWW WAIT THEYRE ACTUALLY SO CUTE
xiangling: MINE HAS A BOWL ON IT 😭
furina: Mine is appropriately regal.
fischl: The crown is acceptable.
kokomi: The fish is accurate.
ayaka: They are lovely, Venti. Thank you.
hu tao: lumine u have to wear urs now.
lumine: no.
venti: u do.
lumine: no.
venti: i spent 10 whole minutes on it.
lumine: that is not very long.
venti: 10 minutes of love and suffering.
lumine: fine. i’ll hold it.
venti: THAT COUNTS.
hu tao: victory.
furina: The first victory of many.
lumine: there will be no victories. We are going to buy snacks normally and go home.
hu tao: that’s what they want u to think.
lumine: who is “they.”
hu tao: the chrome legion.
venti: she gets it.
lumine: i hate all of u.
yoimiya: no u don’t 😭
lumine: unfortunately, i do not.
Xiangling laughed.
“That sounds right.”
“She held the hat, then,” Vodyanitsa said.
“Very carefully,” Hu Tao replied.
“For someone who hated it,” Venti added.
Mitya looked back at the photograph.
Nine hats for an operation that had apparently achieved nothing.
Nine small reasons for everyone to turn up anyway.
He could understand that part.
The final screenshot arrived.
8:15 PM
venti: goodnight vending machine survivors
fischl: Rest well, comrades. Tomorrow, destiny shall unveil its next cruel chapter.
furina: The tribunal reconvenes at lunch.
kokomi: I will bring the incident log.
xiangling: i’ll bring snacks!!
yoimiya: i’ll bring my phone 😌
lumine: no filming strangers.
yoimiya: i meant for us!!
lumine: …Fine.
ayaka: Please sleep, everyone. And Hu Tao, please do not go back to the cafeteria machine tonight.
hu tao: no promises.
lumine: HU TAO.
hu tao: jk. probably.
venti: that is not reassuring.
hu tao: u literally filmed a vending machine in a dark hallway.
venti: research.
hu tao: exactly.
venti: goodnight everyone.
hu tao: goodnight <3
“That is all of it,” Yoimiya said. “From the first question to good night.”
Xingqiu glanced at his phone.
“You discussed this for an hour.”
“An hour and three minutes,” Kazuha said.
“Thank you,” Venti replied.
“That was not praise.”
“It felt like recognition.”
Mitya set his phone down.
“Did Hu Tao get her snack?”
Everyone paused.
Hu Tao looked at Venti.
Venti looked at Xiangling.
Yoimiya began laughing again.
Mitya nodded.
“I see.”
“The mission had broader objectives,” Venti said.
“Of course.”
“Community,” Hu Tao added.
“Solidarity.”
“Art.”
“Paper hats.”
Vodyanitsa rested her forehead briefly against Mitya’s shoulder.
He went very still.
It was only a moment.
She was laughing. That was all.
Then she lifted her head, but she did not move her chair away.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
He looked at her.
“Do not be.”
By the time the call ended, Hu Tao and Venti had performed both versions of the song, disagreed over which one deserved preservation, and begun discussing whether the association required a reunion.
Yoimiya volunteered to find the poster.
Kazuha said he would make sure she went to bed before she started searching storage boxes.
“I can manage my own bedtime,” she told him.
“Yes,” he said. “You manage to postpone it very effectively.”
She pointed at him.
Then, apparently unable to find a satisfactory reply, turned back to the café.
“Send pictures if the snack falls.”
“It will not,” Hu Tao said.
“Send pictures when it does,” Xingqiu corrected.
Venti ended the call only after promising to preserve the evening’s musical additions.
The café settled gradually.
Xiangling took the last dishes into the kitchen. Chongyun followed with the tray, and she leaned back through the doorway to tell him something that made him smile before they disappeared inside.
Hu Tao wiped the counter while Xingqiu finished the till.
Venti sat with his lyre across his lap, picking out a softer version of the umbrella melody.
Mitya noticed it first.
Then Vodyanitsa did.
She glanced toward him.
“He is still doing it.”
“Yes.”
“Are we going to hear this at every gathering now?”
“Probably.”
“You sound resigned.”
“I am considering changing my name.”
She laughed.
Mitya looked at her.
The damp strands of hair near her cheek had dried. She had eaten. The tiredness was still there, but it no longer seemed to be the only thing holding her still.
He wanted another evening like this.
The thought was unexpectedly simple.
Not an accidental meeting. Not a return to the rink with Odette as an explanation.
Something they chose in advance.
“When are you free?” he asked.
Vodyanitsa’s hand paused beside her cup.
“For what?”
“Food. Somewhere without a resident composer.”
From the counter, Venti plucked a pointed chord.
“I heard that.”
Mitya ignored him.
Vodyanitsa looked down, smiling.
“Thursday,” she said. “After rehearsal.”
“All right.”
“You do not know when rehearsal ends.”
“You can tell me.”
“Nine, if everything goes well.”
“And if it does not?”
“Later.”
“I can work with later.”
She studied him for a moment.
Then she reached for her phone.
“I will send you the address.”
His phone lit up almost immediately.
A venue name.
An address.
And beneath it, in a private conversation rather than the group:
for the record, i came back for you tonight.
Mitya looked up.
Vodyanitsa was watching him over the rim of her cup.
“You mentioned Odette,” he said.
“I did check whether she was still here.”
“And if she had been?”
“I would have said hello.”
“And then?”
Her cup lowered.
“I would have looked for you.”
He typed on his phone.
good. thursday is my turn.
She read it.
Her smile was worth the wait.
When they finally stood to leave, Hu Tao looked up from the counter.
“One drink?”
Vodyanitsa pulled on her coat.
“That was the plan before you two gave us a concert.”
“Two concerts,” Venti corrected.
“And a historical presentation,” Mitya added.
Hu Tao spread her hands.
“Dinner and entertainment. We provide a complete experience.”
“We were trying to close,” Xingqiu said.
“An exclusive experience,” Hu Tao amended.
Xingqiu held out Mitya’s umbrella.
“Try keeping it in the middle this time.”
Mitya accepted it.
Vodyanitsa looked at his coat.
One shoulder was still darker than the other.
“I tried,” she said.
“I am sure.”
Hu Tao leaned against Xingqiu’s side.
“Walk slowly.”
Venti found the opening chord.
“No,” Mitya and Vodyanitsa said together.
The café erupted.
Mitya opened the door before either musician could begin another verse.
Outside, the rain had softened.
He raised the umbrella.
Vodyanitsa stepped beneath it without waiting to be asked.
This time, she stood closer.
They reached the corner before she spoke.
“You never answered.”
“What?”
“Whether the machine looked at him.”
Mitya glanced at her.
She was looking straight ahead, but the corner of her mouth had lifted.
“You are going to tell them whatever I say.”
“Yes.”
“That seems unfair.”
“It is.”
He considered the wet pavement, the quiet street, the warmth of her arm against his.
Then he said, “It looked at him.”
Vodyanitsa stopped walking.
Mitya looked back.
For one second, she stared at him.
Then she laughed so hard he had to stop too.
He held the umbrella above them and waited.
He did not mind.