The District of Utnapishtim, abbreviated to D.U. A district that had undeniably seen many things. Destruction, loss and trauma. However, when it all passed, it became a symbol of hope, resilience and future. Its roads rebuilt, its buildings reformed, and its residence? Ever so cling to the old ways as it always had, be it the students who now had nowhere else to go, but choosing not to pursue a life of crime, the automatons who provide for the banks, missions for said lost students and such, or the anthropomorphic animals with masculine voices who greets warmly, gruffly or joyfully.

That last part was one Kize could barely wrap his head around on his first day as the Replacement Sensei.

It was why the district was deemed a buffer zone, where students can travel in and out freely without fear of destruction nor hostility. Of course, every so often, there would be troublemakers and delinquents, but they were addressed, countered and brought to Valkyrie's for correction. Biases and preconceived notions of the different districts do seep through, but with its governance being by Schale and the GSC, it was clear that any attempt at disrupting peace would be met with penalty immediately.

It is also the location of which many back alley deals are made. Such deals as of late, however, are always whispers of his past. A past that they have the audacity to fabricate. A supersoldier, a gunsmith, a cold analyst, a criminal, a war criminal.

He was much too hungry to care. A nearby outdoor stall seem open, one that he slowly ascertain as a ramen stall. Lifting the flap, he took a seat on the stool and was greeted by a boar headed person, who gruffly asked him for his order.

"Ramen, light shoyu."

"Pork?"

Kize stilled, his eyes initially unfocused to the counter, slowly darted up to look directly at the ramen maker. There was lingering irony in the thought of a boar-man offering pork slices for a ramen. A second of a blink, and he soon just nodded along. The boar-man moved away from the counter soon after, readying his order, allowing Kize some moments of reprieve. The stamped form for the cultural exchange...

He made sure to go over it again and again and again and again, just making sure that he stamped and signed something without caveats, and... None. None whatsoever. A genuine desire for Shanhaijing's Plum Blossom Garden to collaborate with Arius Satellite School to provide with the students there a chance of education. Of infrastructure.

Of proper reformation.

As his bowl was slid to him, Kize finally snapped out of it, and slowly looked back down to the boar-man's handiwork. He looked back up, and focused his eyes on the little tag.

Daiki.

He kept it in mind, before taking hold of the chopsticks and separating them. A slurp of the ramen noodles mixed adequately with the broth already left him with a sigh. A genuine taste that almost reminded him of home.

Home. What a luxury to have.

As he took up another slurp of noodles, trying not to think, faint footsteps grew outside before the creaking of a stool occur beside him.

"Arius's Ghost, hm, Sensei?"

The voice was syrup-smooth, laced with amusement. The kind that was of surface level tease, yet held no genuine threat. Kize's fingers spasmed around his chopsticks; a reflex, like touching a scalding pot. He knew who it was before he turned. And truthfully, he didn't want to, but his eyes moved faster than he can tell his mind otherwise.

Sunohara Shun's stool creaked as she sat, her thigh brushing the edge of his coat. Kize didn't flinch; he levitated an inch off his seat instead, spine rigid as a steel rod. By the time his body registered the lack of contact, he'd already overcorrected, slamming back down with a thud loud enough to startle the boar chef. her qipao's slit revealing--

Kize jerked his gaze upward, jaw tight. Too close. Too familiar.

The fur-trimmed overdress pooled around her like shadow given form. Up close, her eyes were worse. Greener. Like someone had bottled sunlight through leaves and poured it into her irises. What he hated more was the fact that his eyes drifted down to where her chest was, showing as much cleavage as it was being far more than he was willing to see further. His eyes quickly drifted before he could find himself ogling.

He was no pervert. He wasn't allowed to be. His life was already over, he had no reason to find any more purpose of life than to simply finish his job until Sensei wakes up. He can't ever.

The chopsticks trembled in his grip. Flashes of memories. Of a woman, not Shun, never Shun, holding a mug.

"Come on. You're not down or done yet."

His fingers twitched again, the ghost of a pulse in his wrist.

His fingers holding the chopsticks twitched.

"Ghost?"

"Mm." Shun smiled, resting her chin on one hand. "The students whisper. A man who rebuilt Arius in three days, then vanished. No name, no face. Just... a ghost." Her nail tapped the counter.

"But here you are. Real."

A bowl of tantanmen was plunked in front of Shun, an implication that she was a regular in the ramen stall. She merely nodded her thanks to Daiki, before stirring the chili oil into lazy spirals.

"You're stalking me."

Shun laughed, a sound like wind chimes.

"This stall's a treasure. You're the one trespassing on my territory, Sensei." She slurped a noodle, then tilted her head. "Though... I did hear you told the Engineering Department no to our collaboration."

Kize paused mid-bite. Once again, his hands twitched. He had denied it, vocally, firmly, in front of Utaha and the others. But the stamped approval had gone through regardless. He'd told himself it was pragmatism. That Arius needed more than just infrastructure. That the Plum Blossom Garden's involvement would stabilize their reputation.

But the way Shun's lips curled now, like she already knew, made his skin prickle.

A mutter left his lips.

"Permits are public record."

"Maa, they are." Shun's grin widened. "So why the act? Didn't want them to think you approved of me?"

The chopstick in his right hand cracked, splintering halfway. Ramen broth seeped into the fissure. Kize stared at it, detached, as if the hand wasn't his. Shun's gaze flicked to the broken wood.

"...I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"I don't approve of anything."

"Sensei, lying is bad." A slurp of her noodles, a short appreciation of the handiwork, and she continued to speak.

"You could've blocked it entirely. Rejected that notion, and Arius perhaps could still stand on its own. But you didn't."

"....."

Kize felt like he ate enough. His noodles and pork slices had long been consumed, leaving behind a somewhat dark broth that reflected his perpetually tired face. The silence from Kize, and Shun continuing her meal while occasionally glancing at him gave Kize too much thoughts. Thoughts he wanted to not emerge. Opinions that he didn't want to pick apart and compare.

Finally, he set his chopsticks down.

"The library was necessary. The greenhouse was leverage."

"Leverage? For what?"

Shun hummed, turning her focus to Kize with a disarming smile. Such a smile didn't work against him.

"For them."

Shun's head tilt had him open his lips, before her smile grew. He closed back immediately. She knows. And he walked into the bait anyway. For a moment, Shun just watched him. Those summer-green eyes saw too much, and then, softly, she laughed.

'Arius needs allies. Not just repairs.'

"Ah, Sensei. You're terrible at playing the villain."

His palm hit the counter with too much force, the impact reverberating up his tendons. For a heartbeat, his fingers locked against the wood. Not dominance, but the desperate anchor of a man fighting gravity. Then he was moving, the stool screeching behind him like a wounded animal.

"We're done here."

Shun didn't stop him as he turned around and took his leave. However, as he was within earshot, she called out.

"The saplings arrive tomorrow. Try not to look so grim when they do."

Kize didn't look back. She had seen through him and seen too much of him. A flaw he'd never admit to. A flaw he dares not speak of.

—

Sunohara Shun had always wondered who Arius's Ghost was. A kind of fascination that washed over her, considering folk stories from Arius are always such rarities. Be it the brainwashing Beatrice brought to make her a cult of personality, or the very idea of a lethal squad now helping with constructing what they left behind, were inspirational stories.

But a ghost within Arius. That was undoubtedly legendary. A man in a dark coat, moving and disappearing. Where he goes in Arius, sprouts resilience within the hearts of its students.

"He was rude."

Shun chuckled simply, stirring the broth with her chopsticks.

"Oh, he's just shy."

As she finished off the rest of her ramen, the soup as well, lukewarm as it was, her gaze went back to the empty seat beside her. The bowl, chopstick and credits collected mere minutes ago, and yet, she found herself wondering about his presence.

'Interesting.'

Most men in Kivotos fell into two categories: the ones who tripped over themselves to impress her, and the ones who pretended not to notice her at all. Kize was neither. He'd seen her. Genuinely, truly seen her, yet reacted like she'd pressed a knife to his throat.

Not fear. Not attraction.

It was the look of a man who'd seen a ghost. And knew her face.

Shun tapped her nail against the bowl.

"Arius's Ghost... and just who haunted you, I wonder?"

She pulled out the folded slip of paper she'd tucked away earlier. Kize's discarded permit approval for the Plum Blossom Garden collaboration. The stamp was crisp, the signature rushed.

He'd signed it before he even denied it to the engineers. A laugh bubbled up in her chest.

"Oh, Sensei," she murmured, tucking the paper back into her sleeve. "You're even worse at lying than I hoped."

Shun slid a handful of credits across the counter and stood, stretching lazily. The night air clung to her overdress as she stepped outside, her breath fogging in the artificial chill. But her smile, it was filled with warmth and anticipation.

Tomorrow, the saplings would arrive.

Tomorrow, she'd see him again.

And this time, she'd make sure he had nowhere to run.