Lk
Gods, Dragons, and That One Guy She Accidentally Summoned
She opened a portal out of boredom. Now she can't stop looking at him.
Chapter 1: Divine Boredom
The late afternoon sunlight filtered through gossamer curtains, painting golden patterns across Lucoa's sprawling collection of arcane tomes and mystical artifacts. Former goddess Quetzalcoatl—"Lucoa" in this realm—reclined on plush cushions, her heterochromatic eyes half-lidded as she nursed her fifth cup of enchanted sake. The liquid shimmered with constellations in miniature, each sip tasting of stardust and forgotten divine celebrations.
Immortality had its perks, but boredom wasn't one of them.
"What's even the point of having eons of magical knowledge," she sighed dramatically to the empty room, "when there's nothing interesting to do with it?"
She stretched languorously, her substantial curves shifting beneath her loosely draped robe. The mountain retreat she shared with young wizard Shouta and his father felt particularly empty today. The boy was at a special weekend magic seminar, and his father away on another archaeological expedition. Even the usual background magic that hummed through the house seemed subdued, as if the very walls shared her ennui.
Rolling onto her stomach, Lucoa propped her chin on her hands and gazed at the stack of ancient texts she'd pulled from her personal interdimensional storage earlier that morning. Most were written in languages that predated human civilization, scripts so old that the very shapes of the letters seemed to writhe with forgotten power.
One volume in particular caught her eye—bound in material that wasn't quite leather, wasn't quite metal, with symbols that glowed faintly even in the bright afternoon light.
"I haven't practiced dimensional manipulation in... what, three centuries?" she mused, reaching for the book. Its cover felt warm beneath her fingertips, almost eager. "I used to be quite good at it, too."
She flipped through pages filled with intricate diagrams and incantations, memories surfacing of a time when she'd casually stepped between worlds as easily as humans crossed streets. Before the... incident... that had cost her her godhood.
"This one looks amusing," she said, pausing at a particularly elaborate teleportation circle. "Just a dimensional window—no actual transfer of matter. Perfect for a lazy afternoon."
With a graceful wave of her hand, Lucoa cleared the center of the room, sending cushions and books sliding neatly against the walls. Rising to her feet, she tied back her flowing blonde-green hair and centered herself with a deep breath.
"Let's see if I still remember how this works," she hummed, extending one finger trailed in golden light. She began tracing the complex pattern on the polished wooden floor, each symbol flaring briefly before settling into a steady emerald glow.
"Connect the inner circle with the outer rim," she narrated to herself, "add the celestial markers for stabilization, incorporate the void sigils to prevent actual matter transfer..." Her movements were fluid and precise, muscle memory from countless iterations performed millennia ago.
As she worked, Lucoa began to feel a pleasant buzz that wasn't entirely due to the enchanted sake. There was something deeply satisfying about practicing the higher magical arts again, something that awakened the part of her that had once been worshipped as a deity of wisdom and creation.
"And finally," she said with flourish, completing the last symbol, "the activation key."
The completed circle pulsed gently, the emerald glow deepening to a more vibrant jade. Lucoa stepped back, admiring her handiwork with professional pride.
"Not bad for being out of practice," she congratulated herself. "Now, let's see what interesting dimension we can peek into today. Perhaps the butterfly realm? Or maybe that delightful pocket universe where everything's made of crystal and music."
She knelt gracefully at the edge of the circle, placing her palms flat against two specially designated nodes. Closing her mismatched eyes—one green, one blue—she began to channel her considerable magical energy into the construct.
"Reveal to me the spaces between spaces," she intoned, her voice taking on the resonant quality it had possessed during her days as a deity. "Open a window to that which lies beyond the veil of this reality."
The circle's glow intensified, spreading upward like luminous smoke to form a roughly oval shape in the air above it. For a moment, the portal functioned exactly as intended—showing a swirling, nebulous view of the spaces between dimensions, the cosmic hallways that connected disparate realities.
"Perfect!" Lucoa exclaimed, pleased with her success. "Now to focus it on a specific realm..."
That's when things went sideways.
As she attempted to direct the portal toward a particular dimension, the emerald light suddenly flashed blindingly bright, shifting rapidly through a spectrum of colors before settling on a pulsing, brilliant gold.
"That's... not supposed to happen," Lucoa murmured, her euphoria quickly giving way to professional concern. She attempted to disengage, pulling her hands away from the circle, but found them temporarily stuck in place, as if the magic itself was reluctant to release her.
The oval portal above the circle began to distort, stretching and warping like taffy being pulled. A high-pitched whine filled the room, the sound of reality itself being strained to its limits.
"Definitely not according to plan," Lucoa muttered, now channeling her power in reverse, trying to close what she'd opened. But whatever was happening had developed its own momentum.
The center of the portal darkened, then exploded outward in a starburst of golden-white light so intense that even Lucoa, with her divine heritage, had to shield her eyes. The shockwave of magical energy would have devastated the entire mountainside if she hadn't instinctively thrown up a containment field around the house.
Books flew from shelves. Artifacts rattled in their display cases. The very foundation of the house groaned under the metaphysical pressure.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped.
The light retracted, the noise ceased, and the magical pressure dissipated like mist under a hot sun. Lucoa blinked away the afterimages, her vision slowly returning to normal.
Where the portal had been, standing in the center of the now-scorched teleportation circle, was a figure.
No, not just a figure. A boy.
Or at least, something with the appearance of a boy.
He stood approximately six feet tall, with a lean, athletic build that spoke of coiled power rather than brute strength. His hair was a wild mane of white-gold, shot through with streaks of fiery red and solar orange—as if someone had captured a sunset in physical form. His eyes, when he finally opened them, were molten gold, with an inner light that reminded Lucoa of stars about to go supernova.
He wore what appeared to be the tattered remains of a school uniform: a half-burnt jacket, loose white shirt torn in several places, and arm wraps that glowed faintly with stored energy. His feet were bare, and around his shoulders flickered something that might have been a cloak or might have been reality itself forgetting how to maintain consistency.
For several heartbeats, neither of them moved. Lucoa was too stunned by the failure of her spell and the appearance of this... visitor. The boy—if that's what he was—seemed to be taking in his surroundings with calm curiosity, as if materializing in strange places was a regular occurrence for him.
Finally, he stretched languorously, rolling his shoulders and neck in a way that reminded Lucoa of a predator awakening from a nap. Then he yawned, revealing teeth that were just a fraction too white, too perfect.
His gaze finally settled on Lucoa, and his eyes widened appreciatively, taking in her divine beauty with unconcealed interest. Then, without a trace of the confusion or fear one might expect from someone who had just been yanked across dimensions, he smiled—a warm, confident expression that radiated charm and just a hint of danger.
"Well," he said, voice rich and melodious with an undertone that resonated at frequencies slightly beyond normal human hearing, "you've got good taste in accidents." He glanced around the room, taking in the scattered books and artifacts, then returned his gaze to Lucoa. "Mind if I stay a while?"
Lucoa blinked. Then blinked again.
In her countless centuries of existence, she had encountered gods and demons, dragons and spirits, entities from beyond the edges of comprehensible reality. She could instantly categorize any being she met, understanding their nature and capabilities with a mere glance.
But this boy—this being—defied classification. Her divine senses reached out automatically, trying to place him in the cosmic hierarchy, and found... nothing. Not an absence of power, but rather a presence that somehow existed outside her frame of reference.
He wasn't human. Wasn't a dragon. Wasn't a god or demon or spirit or any classification she recognized.
He simply was.
Curiosity, that eternal companion of immortal beings, stirred within her. Lucoa rose gracefully to her feet, allowing her aura to expand subtly—not aggressively, but as a gentle reminder of her own considerable power.
The boy didn't flinch. If anything, his smile widened, as if her display was a charming conversation starter rather than a warning.
"I'm Lucoa," she said, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. The movement caused her long hair to cascade over one shoulder in a deliberate display that had disarmed countless beings over the millennia. "And you are...?"
"Kairos." He gave a small, theatrical bow that somehow managed to be both playful and respectful. "Probably not from around here, judging by..." he gestured vaguely at the scorched teleportation circle beneath his feet, "...whatever that was."
Intrigued despite herself, Lucoa approached him carefully, circling like a predator assessing potential prey—or perhaps, competition. When she was within arm's reach, she poked him playfully in the chest, testing his substance.
Kairos poked back—his finger passing effortlessly through the force field she'd instinctively raised around herself.
Very interesting.
"You're dangerous," she observed, eyes narrowing even as her lips curved into a smile that had once inspired worship. "And kinda cute."
"Dangerous is cute," Kairos replied without hesitation, meeting her gaze without a trace of the awe or nervousness most beings displayed when face-to-face with an ex-deity. "Want proof?"
Something flickered in his eyes then—a depth and awareness that belied his youthful appearance. For a moment, Lucoa felt like she was standing at the edge of an abyss, one that stared back with ancient, knowing hunger.
Then the moment passed, and he was just a handsome, mysterious boy with an impossible aura and a smile that promised trouble of the most intriguing kind.
"Well," Lucoa said finally, settling back onto one of her cushions and gesturing for him to sit opposite her, "since I apparently summoned you by accident, I should at least offer you tea while we figure out what exactly you are and how to send you back."
Kairos grinned, dropping cross-legged onto the cushion with easy grace. "I'd love tea. As for what I am..." He leaned forward, golden eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm the best mistake you'll ever make."
And despite herself, despite millennia of existence and the wisdom that came with it, Lucoa found herself smiling back, a strange flutter of anticipation stirring in her chest.
The afternoon had definitely become less boring.
Chapter 2: Getting Acquainted
"So let me get this straight," Lucoa said, pouring another cup of celestial tea as she studied her unexpected guest. "You're not a god, not a dragon, not a demon—"
"And definitely not just a high school student, though I do—or did—attend one," Kairos added, sipping the scalding liquid without flinching. His golden eyes closed briefly in appreciation. "This is good tea, by the way. Tastes like... stardust and honey?"
Lucoa's hand paused mid-pour, the delicate porcelain teapot hovering above his cup. "That's... exactly right. It's infused with celestial pollen from the gardens of the sun goddess." She set down the teapot with deliberate care. "How would you know what stardust tastes like?"
Kairos grinned, that predatory edge returning to his expression. "Let's just say I've eaten things most beings can't pronounce." He took another sip, then added casually, "Though I'm pretty sure the sun goddess you're talking about would be pissed if she knew you'd smuggled her pollen out. They're territorial about their flowers."
This time, Lucoa couldn't hide her surprise. "You're familiar with divine gardening politics?"
"I'm familiar with divinity in general," he replied with a shrug. "Gods are gods, no matter what dimension they're from. All that power, all that responsibility, and still so petty about the small stuff." His expression turned thoughtful. "No offense."
"None taken," Lucoa said automatically, though she found herself slightly off-balance. It had been centuries since anyone had spoken so casually about divine beings in her presence. Most humans either worshipped from afar or cowered in terror. Most magical creatures showed proper deference. "I'm not technically a goddess anymore, anyway."
"Yeah, I picked up on that," Kairos said, leaning back on his cushion. "Your aura has that... what's the word... diminished quality? Like cathedral bells heard underwater. Still magnificent, but..."
"Muffled," she finished for him, an odd feeling settling in her stomach. Was it discomfort at being so easily read, or surprise at finding someone who could see her so clearly? "That's unusually perceptive of you."
Three hours had passed since his dramatic arrival, and Lucoa was no closer to understanding what exactly she'd inadvertently summoned into her temporary home. What she did know was that Kairos radiated power unlike anything she'd encountered—and she'd been alive when the universe was considerably younger than it was now.
"You still haven't explained what you actually are," she pressed, leaning forward. The movement caused her ample chest to rest against the table's edge, an effect she'd used countless times to distract or disarm those she spoke with.
Kairos's eyes dipped briefly, appreciatively, but returned to her face without the stammering or blushing she typically inspired. "I'm Kairos," he said simply. "A convergence point of probability and potential. Sort of like a walking cosmic accident."
"That's not an answer," Lucoa countered, narrowing her eyes.
"It's the only one that fits in the languages you know," he replied with a shrug. "I could try to explain in the tongue of the star-eaters, but I think it might burn out your eardrums. And possibly my throat," he added with a small grimace. "It's all consonants, and half of them require at least three vocal cords."
Before she could respond, the front door slid open, and a small boy wearing wizarding robes stepped into the house, his face flushed with excitement.
"Lucoa-san, I'm home! Professor Amagumo said my weather manipulation was the best in the class today, and—" Shouta froze mid-sentence, eyes widening as he took in the scorched floor, scattered scrolls, and most importantly, the golden-eyed stranger sitting across from his self-appointed guardian.
"Welcome home, Shouta-kun!" Lucoa sang cheerfully, waving as if nothing were amiss. "Did you have a good day at your magic seminar? We have a guest! This is Kairos. I accidentally summoned him while practicing some old magic."
Shouta's face went through several emotions in rapid succession: surprise, confusion, suspicion, and finally, wary resignation. After living with Lucoa for so long, dimensional rifts probably ranked low on his scale of household disruptions.
"You summoned a... person?" the young wizard asked, cautiously approaching. His small hands tightened on the straps of his backpack. "Is that even allowed?"
"Not usually," Lucoa admitted, twirling a strand of hair around one finger. "But I wasn't trying to summon anything. It was supposed to be a simple viewing portal."
Kairos rose to his feet in one fluid motion, then bent slightly to offer Shouta a fist bump. "Hey there, little mage. Sorry about crashing your place. Your dragon mommy here didn't mean to yank me across realities."
Shouta stared at the offered fist, then at Kairos's face, then over to Lucoa with a look that clearly said: Are you seeing this? Is this okay?
"Dragon... mommy?" Lucoa repeated, torn between amusement and something else she couldn't quite identify. Had anyone else used such a casual, familiar term for her, she might have been offended. From Kairos, it was strangely... endearing?
"Well, you're a dragon, and you act like his mom, so..." Kairos explained with perfect, infuriating logic. He wiggled his still-extended fist slightly in Shouta's direction. "No interdimensional cooties, promise."
Shouta, apparently deciding that Kairos wasn't an immediate threat (or at least, that Lucoa would have dealt with him if he were), hesitantly bumped his small fist against the offered one. A tiny spark passed between them, causing the boy to gasp.
"You're strong," Shouta whispered, eyes wide. As a magic user, he could sense power, though not with the precision Lucoa possessed.
"So I've been told," Kairos replied, straightening. "You're not so bad yourself, little mage. Good foundation. Shaky upper structure though." He made a wobbling motion with his hand. "You rush the advanced stuff before mastering basics."
Shouta's face flushed with indignation. "I do not!"
"Show me your fire invocation."
Without thinking, Shouta began the hand gestures for a basic flame spell, one he'd been practicing for weeks. Halfway through, Kairos tapped his elbow, adjusting his position slightly.
"Try it now."
Shouta completed the spell—and instead of the small, flickering flame he usually produced, a perfect sphere of ruby fire materialized above his palm, steady and bright.
"Whoa!" The boy gasped, staring at his achievement with undisguised wonder.
"See? Foundations matter," Kairos said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Your power was leaking at the connector points. All that potential, just... whoosh, out the window."
"How did you know?" Shouta asked, his initial wariness giving way to curiosity as he carefully maintained the fire sphere. "Are you a wizard too?"
"Not exactly," Kairos replied. "But power is power, no matter what form it takes. The principles stay pretty consistent across the multiverse."
"The multi-what?" Shouta began, but Lucoa cleared her throat gently.
"Shouta-kun, why don't you go change and start your homework?" she suggested. "I need to discuss some things with our guest."
The boy carefully extinguished his fire sphere, but hesitated before leaving. "Will he... be staying?" he asked, with what sounded suspiciously like hope.
Before Lucoa could answer, Kairos interjected. "For a while, if that's cool. I've got nowhere pressing to be, and your dragon mommy here probably has questions about how I ended up in your living room."
"She's not my—" Shouta began automatically, then stopped, considering. "Well, I guess she kind of is. Okay. But don't mess up the house more!" With that final admonition, he scurried off to his room.
Lucoa turned back to Kairos, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're good with children."
"I'm good with most people," he said, reclaiming his seat. "It's a side effect of seeing too clearly."
"Seeing what clearly?"
"Everything." His golden eyes met hers, suddenly serious. "The pain they carry. The hopes they hide. The fears they run from. Little mage there? He's terrified of failing his father's expectations. Tries too hard because of it. Creates his own blocks."
Lucoa stared. She'd known Shouta for years and had noticed his perfectionist tendencies, but hadn't fully connected it to his relationship with his father.
"How can you possibly know that after five minutes?" she demanded.
Kairos shrugged, the serious moment passing as quickly as it had come. "Like I said, I see things. It's both a gift and a massive pain in the ass." He stretched, his torn shirt riding up to reveal a tanned stomach marked with what appeared to be an intricate, shifting tattoo of celestial bodies. "So, am I sleeping on the couch, or...?"
The suggestive trail of his question hung in the air between them. Lucoa, who normally was the one deploying such tactics, found herself momentarily off-balance.
"The couch," she stated firmly, ignoring the amused quirk of his eyebrow. "And tomorrow, we're going to figure out exactly how to send you back where you came from."
"Sure thing, dragon mommy," he replied with a wink. "Whatever you say."
Lucoa felt a surge of irritation mixed with—she was alarmed to realize—something like anticipation. Whatever game Kairos was playing, she had the distinct impression he was several moves ahead.
And for someone who'd lived as long as she had, that novelty alone was almost worth the scorched floorboards.
Chapter 3: The Morning Dilemma
Dawn arrived with gentle persistence, painting the mountain retreat in soft gold and pink. Lucoa, who rarely needed sleep, had spent most of the night in meditation, trying to unravel the mystery of her unexpected guest.
She'd drawn on ancient connections, whispered to beings who existed between spaces, and consulted tomes so old the languages they were written in had been forgotten by all but a handful of immortals. The answers—or lack thereof—troubled her.
Kairos didn't exist. Not in any realm, dimension, or timeline she could access. It was as if he'd manifested from pure potential, a walking impossibility with golden eyes and a smile that made her feel things she'd long forgotten she could feel.
When she finally emerged from her meditation chamber, she found him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.
The sight was so unexpected that she stopped short in the doorway. Kairos moved with efficient grace, flipping pancakes with one hand while simultaneously stirring something that smelled remarkably like the celestial truffle omelets she'd once enjoyed in the divine realm. He hummed a tune she didn't recognize—something poignant and ancient, with a melody that seemed to shift and transform with each note.
He'd changed clothes somehow, now wearing loose black pants and a simple white t-shirt that clung to his lean frame. His wild hair was pulled back into a messy bun, revealing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones.
"Morning, dragon mommy," he called without turning, somehow sensing her presence. "Hope you're hungry. Little mage already ate and headed to school. Said something about a test he felt really good about, thanks to your 'weird friend' helping him with visualization techniques."
"You... cook?" she asked, sliding onto a stool at the counter.
Kairos turned, sliding a plate in front of her with a flourish. The omelet was perfect—golden, fluffy, and garnished with herbs she was certain hadn't been in the refrigerator yesterday. It smelled exactly like the divine breakfasts she'd enjoyed millennia ago, before her exile.
"I do lots of things," he replied with that now-familiar grin. "Comes with existence. You live, you learn, you figure out how to make a decent breakfast." He paused, his expression softening slightly. "Besides, seemed like the least I could do after you let me crash here."
Lucoa took a cautious bite, then closed her eyes in genuine pleasure. It tasted like home—her real home, the divine realm she'd been exiled from centuries ago.
"How did you—" she began.
"Saw it in your eyes," Kairos interrupted, sitting across from her with his own plate heaped with pancakes drizzled in what appeared to be starlight syrup. "Last night, when you talked about the tea. There was this flash of... homesickness, I guess. Figured you might appreciate a taste of wherever you're from."
Lucoa set down her fork carefully. "That's impossible. These truffles only grow in the gardens of the celestial palace. Even I can't access them anymore."
Kairos chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed before answering. "Couldn't get the real thing, obviously. But I can... sort of... restructure mundane ingredients to mimic other things I've encountered. Or things I see in people's memories."
"You read my mind?" Alarm flashed through her, all pleasure in the meal instantly evaporating. Mind invasion was one of the few violations that even gods considered taboo.
"No." He shook his head firmly, his expression serious. "I don't do that. Too invasive. I just... feel echoes. Especially strong emotions tied to sensory memories. You really miss those truffles, so they left an impression I could pick up on." He hesitated, then added more softly, "You miss a lot of things, don't you?"
The question was gentle, almost tender, and it caught Lucoa completely off guard. She'd spent centuries building a carefree, flirtatious persona, never allowing anyone to see the occasional melancholy that came with being exiled from her divine home.
Yet this boy—this impossible anomaly—had seen through her in less than a day.
"That's a rather personal observation," she replied, her tone deliberately light even as she felt strangely exposed.
Kairos immediately backed off, his expression shifting to casual apology. "You're right. Sorry about that. Boundaries aren't always my strong suit." He shoveled another forkful of pancakes into his mouth, then spoke around it: "These are pretty good, if I do say so myself. Secret is the buttermilk."
Lucoa studied him, trying to determine if he was lying about reading her mind. There was an openness to his face, a directness in his golden gaze that suggested honesty. Yet how else could he know so much? "Who are you, Kairos? Really?"
He set down his fork, golden eyes meeting hers with unexpected solemnity. "I told you. I'm a convergence point. Where I come from... let's just say reality works differently. Rules are more like suggestions. I've fought things you'd call gods. Made friends with beings you'd call monsters. Learned a few tricks along the way."
"You're seventeen," she stated flatly.
"In this form, this iteration, yeah." He took a sip of orange juice. "But time gets weird when you exist across multiple points of causality."
Before Lucoa could pursue this line of questioning, there was a forceful knock at the front door.
"Lucoa! Are you there? I sensed a dimensional disturbance yesterday!"
Kairos raised an eyebrow, a piece of pancake halfway to his mouth. "Friend of yours?"
"Something like that," Lucoa sighed, rising to answer the door. "Finish your breakfast. This could take a while."
"Yes, mom," he replied cheekily, earning a narrowed gaze from the former goddess as she swept from the kitchen.
On the doorstep stood Tohru, the chaos dragon who served as maid to Lucoa's friend Kobayashi. Her orange-blonde hair was slightly disheveled, and her eyes burned with suspicious intensity. She wore her maid uniform, but the apron was askew, suggesting she'd rushed over directly from her duties.
"I felt it all the way across town," Tohru declared without preamble, pushing past Lucoa into the entryway. "A tear in reality. Right here. What did you do?"
"Good morning to you too, Tohru," Lucoa replied mildly, closing the door behind the agitated dragon. "Would you like some breakfast? We have plenty."
"We?" Tohru's eyes narrowed to slits, her draconic senses already detecting another presence. "Who's we?"
"That would be me," came Kairos's voice from the kitchen doorway. He leaned against the frame, casually licking maple syrup from his thumb. "Nice to meet you, chaos dragon. Cool horns, by the way."
Tohru froze, her gaze locking onto the stranger. Dragon senses were acute—she would be picking up the same impossible readings that had confounded Lucoa the night before.
"What. Is. That." Tohru's question came out as a growl, her body tensing as if preparing for battle. Small sparks of magic began to gather around her clenched fists.
"I'm a Kairos," he replied cheerfully, completely unfazed by the hostile reception. "Apparently your friend here accidentally summoned me while she was bored and tipsy. Great pancakes, by the way," he added to Lucoa. "The secret is buttermilk."
Tohru's tail emerged—a clear sign of agitation in her human form—and swept dangerously close to a vase. "Lucoa, that... thing... has no classification aura. It's a void in reality. It needs to be destroyed before it—"
"Whoa, whoa!" Kairos raised his hands in a placating gesture, though his expression remained more amused than concerned. "No need for destruction before coffee. I'm harmless! Well, not harmless, but I mean no harm. To you or dragon mommy or anyone else in this realm."
"Dragon WHAT?" Tohru spluttered, her tail lashing more vigorously.
"He calls me that," Lucoa explained, suppressing a smile at Tohru's outrage. "It's... a nickname."
"It's disrespectful!" Tohru insisted, turning back to Kairos with blazing eyes. "Lucoa is a former deity! A powerful dragon! Not some... some..."
"Maternal figure to a young wizard?" Kairos suggested, crossing his arms and leaning more comfortably against the doorframe. "Because that's literally what she is. No disrespect intended. If anything, it's acknowledging her nurturing nature alongside her obvious power. Which, by the way," he added, golden eyes flicking appreciatively over Lucoa's form, "is considerable."
Tohru blinked, momentarily derailed by his logic and the casual way he acknowledged Lucoa's strength without seeming intimidated by it.
"You still haven't explained what you are," she pressed, though her tail had stopped lashing quite so aggressively.
"That's because he can't—or won't," Lucoa interjected, placing a calming hand on Tohru's shoulder. "I've been trying to figure it out all night."
"And I've been explaining it the best I can," Kairos countered. He sighed dramatically, then pushed off from the doorframe. "If it helps, think of me as a cosmic anomaly with excellent hair and an appreciation for powerful women. Now, would either of you like more pancakes? They're really good, if I do say so myself."
The absurdity of the situation—a being of unknown origin offering breakfast to suspicious dragons—seemed to finally register with Tohru. She looked from Kairos to Lucoa, saw no immediate concern in her friend's posture, and reluctantly relaxed her fighting stance.
"Fine. But I'm watching you, anomaly."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, chaos dragon." Kairos gave a little mock salute. "How do you take your coffee? You strike me as a 'black with three sugars' type."
Tohru stopped mid-step. "How did you know that?"
Kairos tapped his temple with a knowing smile. "Lucky guess. Or maybe I just understand the sweet contradictions of chaos magic users."
And as he sauntered back toward the kitchen, Lucoa caught Tohru staring after him with an expression somewhere between outrage and fascination.
"What exactly have you brought into this world?" Tohru whispered.
Lucoa shook her head slowly. "I wish I knew. But he makes excellent pancakes."
"Pancakes aren't worth a dimensional collapse," Tohru muttered, but followed Lucoa into the kitchen nonetheless.
The next hour was a study in tense diplomacy, with Kairos effortlessly deflecting Tohru's increasingly direct questions while keeping both dragons well-supplied with breakfast foods that somehow tasted better than they had any right to.
"So you're telling me," Tohru said, pointing her fork accusingly, "that you just happened to be 'between dimensions' when Lucoa's spell grabbed you?"
"More or less," Kairos agreed, refilling her coffee cup without being asked. "Right place, right time. Or wrong place, wrong time, depending on your perspective."
"And you can't go back because...?"
"Because I don't come from anywhere specific," he replied patiently, as if explaining a simple concept to a child. "I exist across multiple points of probability. Lucoa's spell just... focused me into this particular reality."
"That's convenient," Tohru muttered.
"I think it's fascinating," Lucoa interjected, having moved past her initial confusion to genuine interest. "A being that exists as potential rather than fixed reality. The magical implications alone are worth studying."
"See? Dragon mommy gets it," Kairos said with a grin.
"Stop calling her that!" Tohru snapped.
"Why? Does it bother you?" His golden eyes sparkled with mischief. "Or are you jealous you don't have a nickname too, chaos maid?"
Tohru's face flushed crimson. "I am NOT a—"
"Tohru," Lucoa interrupted gently, "perhaps we should introduce Kairos to the others. Get their perspectives."
This suggestion effectively derailed Tohru's building tirade. She blinked, considering. "You mean take him to Kobayashi's?"
"Exactly. Kanna might sense something we're missing. And Fafnir has extensive knowledge
Chapter 3: Dragon Family Gathering (Continued)
"...and Fafnir has extensive knowledge of interdimensional anomalies," Lucoa finished, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "It might be worth getting everyone's perspective."
Kairos leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs with casual disregard for physics. "A dragon family gathering? Sounds like my kind of party." He winked at Tohru. "Do I need to bring a gift? Wine? Sacrificial offering? Dragon treats?"
Tohru bristled. "We're not animals."
"Never said you were." Kairos let his chair fall back to all four legs with a soft thud. "Dragons where I'm from love spicy pastries. One of them would literally burn down villages if she didn't get her weekly cinnamon roll. Friend of mine eventually just opened a bakery to keep the peace."
"You expect us to believe you're friends with dragons?" Tohru scoffed, crossing her arms.
"I'm friends with all sorts," Kairos replied with a shrug. "Dragons, wizards, talking swords, sentient nebulae—I don't discriminate." He glanced at Lucoa with a grin. "And now a former goddess, apparently."
"We're not friends," Lucoa corrected, though without much conviction.
"Not yet," Kairos agreed cheerfully. "Give it time, dragon mommy."
Tohru made a strangled noise of frustration. "Stop. Calling. Her. That!"
"Would you prefer 'divine serpent matriarch'? 'Celestial reptile caregiver'? 'Supreme scaled guardian'?" With each suggestion, Kairos's expression grew more innocently helpful, though his eyes danced with mischief. "I'm flexible on terminology."
Lucoa couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. "Just Lucoa is fine."
"Your house, your rules," Kairos conceded with an exaggerated bow from his seated position. "So when's this dragon council happening? I should probably put on a shirt that isn't half-destroyed."
"You don't have other clothes," Lucoa pointed out.
"Details, details." Kairos waved dismissively. "I'll figure something out."
Tohru finished her coffee and stood abruptly. "I need to check with Kobayashi-san first. She might not want... whatever he is... in her apartment."
"Fair enough," Kairos nodded. "Last thing I want to do is make anyone uncomfortable in their own home."
The simple consideration in his statement seemed to catch Tohru off guard. She had clearly been expecting more flippant remarks. After a moment of visible internal struggle, her expression softened a fraction.
"I'll call when I've spoken to her," she said to Lucoa, then pointed at Kairos. "Don't get too comfortable here. We might still need to... deal with you."
Kairos raised his coffee mug in a toast. "Looking forward to it, chaos maid."
After Tohru left—with considerably more door-slamming than was strictly necessary—Lucoa turned to her unexpected houseguest with a raised eyebrow.
"Do you enjoy antagonizing dragons, or is it just a special talent?"
"Little of column A, little of column B." Kairos began gathering the breakfast dishes. "She seems high-strung. Probably good at her job, but takes herself way too seriously."
"Tohru has her reasons," Lucoa said, helping to clear the table. "She's protective of this world and the people in it."
"As she should be." Kairos filled the sink with soapy water. "Her heart's in the right place. Just needs to lighten up a bit."
They fell into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm, Kairos washing while Lucoa dried and put away. For a few minutes, they worked in silence, and Lucoa found herself studying him from the corner of her eye.
There was something fascinating about the way he moved—efficient yet graceful, as if perfectly at ease in his body. No wasted motion, no hesitation. Perhaps most striking was how utterly at home he seemed, despite being a dimensional interloper who'd arrived less than twenty-four hours ago.
"You're staring," Kairos observed without looking up from the pan he was scrubbing.
"Just trying to figure you out," Lucoa admitted.
"Good luck with that." He handed her the clean pan. "I barely understand myself most days."
"Oh?" This was new. A hint of uncertainty from the seemingly unflappable Kairos.
He shrugged, shoulders rippling beneath his torn shirt. "Being a convergence point has its perks, but self-awareness isn't always one of them. Sometimes I just... do things... without fully understanding why."
"Like what?"
"Like knowing exactly how to adjust Shouta's spell technique without ever having seen it before." He frowned slightly. "Or knowing Tohru takes her coffee with three sugars. Information just... appears in my head when I need it. Useful, but weird."
"That sounds like divination magic," Lucoa mused. "The ability to know things you shouldn't logically know."
"Maybe." Kairos didn't sound convinced. "Feels more like... déjà vu, but for things I've never actually experienced? If that makes any sense."
"Not really," Lucoa said honestly.
Kairos laughed, the sound surprisingly warm and genuine. "Welcome to my world, dragon mommy."
Instead of correcting him, Lucoa found herself smiling. There was something infectious about his lighthearted approach to what should be a concerning metaphysical condition.
"If you're going to meet everyone," she said, changing the subject, "you'll need proper clothes. Shouta's father might have something that would fit you."
"Borrowing clothes from my host's dad? Very high school rom-com," Kairos observed. "I like it."
"It's just practical," Lucoa insisted, though she felt an inexplicable warmth in her cheeks. "You can't go around looking like you just escaped an explosion."
"I mean, technically I did." He gestured to his torn shirt and the faint burn marks along the edges. "Your teleportation circle packed quite a punch."
"That wasn't supposed to happen," Lucoa muttered. "A properly executed dimensional window doesn't create explosive transitions."
"Maybe it wasn't the spell," Kairos suggested, draining the sink. "Maybe it was me. Reality tends to get a little... stretchy... around convergence points."
The statement was delivered casually, but it stopped Lucoa in her tracks. "Stretchy?"
"Yeah, you know." He made a pulling motion with his hands. "Flexible. Malleable. The laws of physics become more like polite suggestions."
"That's..." Lucoa searched for the right word. "Concerning."
"Only if you're really attached to consistent reality," Kairos countered with a grin. "Personally, I find a little metaphysical flexibility makes life more interesting."
Before Lucoa could respond to this alarming philosophical position, her phone chimed with a message. She glanced at the screen. "Tohru says Kobayashi is fine with meeting you. They're expecting us in an hour."
"Perfect!" Kairos clapped his hands together. "Just enough time to make myself presentable for dragon society. Where's this borrowed wardrobe you mentioned?"
Forty-five minutes later, Lucoa found herself walking beside a transformed Kairos. Shouta's father, being an academic with eclectic taste, had a surprising variety of clothes that fit the dimensional visitor. Kairos had selected a simple but well-tailored dark blue button-down shirt, black jeans, and a charcoal gray blazer that should have looked too formal but somehow enhanced his casual confidence.
He'd tamed his wild hair somewhat, pulling the sides back while leaving the top free, the gold-and-fire strands catching the afternoon sunlight. Combined with his unusual golden eyes and natural grace, the effect was... striking.
Lucoa, who had seen every form of beauty the multiverse had to offer, found herself occasionally stealing glances at him as they walked through the city toward Kobayashi's apartment.
"You clean up well," she admitted finally.
"Thanks." Kairos flashed that now-familiar grin. "Figured I should make a decent first impression on the rest of dragon-kind. Well, second impression in Tohru's case."
"Just try not to antagonize her further," Lucoa advised. "Tohru can be... reactive."
"Reactive is just another word for passionate," Kairos replied. "I like passion. Makes life interesting."
"There's that word again. 'Interesting.' You seem very focused on things being interesting."
Kairos shrugged. "When you exist across multiple points of probability, boredom becomes your worst enemy. Nothing kills the soul faster than predictability."
"Is that why you flirt with everyone?" Lucoa asked, the question emerging before she could consider its wisdom.
If Kairos was taken aback by her directness, he didn't show it. "I don't flirt with everyone," he corrected. "Just the interesting ones."
"And I'm interesting because...?"
"Former goddess with mismatched eyes who accidentally summons interdimensional beings while drinking magical sake?" Kairos counted off on his fingers. "Yeah, I'd say you clear the bar for interesting."
Lucoa laughed despite herself. "When you put it that way, I sound like the setup for a cosmic joke."
"The best kind," Kairos agreed, his golden eyes warming with genuine amusement.
They turned the corner onto Kobayashi's street, and Lucoa pointed to the apartment building ahead. "We're here. Remember, best behavior."
"Scout's honor," Kairos promised solemnly, though Lucoa doubted he'd ever been a scout of any kind. "I'll be charm incarnate."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Lucoa muttered as they approached the building.
Inside, they took the elevator to Kobayashi's floor. As they walked down the hallway, Lucoa could already sense the gathered magical energy—several dragons in one small apartment made for a potent supernatural concentration.
She knocked, and the door was immediately flung open by Kanna, the small white-haired dragon child whose expressionless face belied her immense power.
"Lucoa," she greeted in her soft, calm voice. Then her eyes shifted to Kairos, widening slightly—the dragon equivalent of extreme surprise. "You're bright."
Kairos crouched down to her eye level, his movement fluid and natural. "So are you, little one. Like moonlight on fresh snow."
Kanna blinked, then a tiny smile tugged at her lips. "I like you."
"I like you too," Kairos replied with perfect sincerity. "May we come in?"
Kanna nodded and stepped aside, her eyes never leaving Kairos as they entered the apartment.
Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Tohru stood near Kobayashi, who sat at the dining table looking simultaneously exhausted and curious. Fafnir lurked in a corner, his dark eyes narrowed and calculating. Elma, the water dragon and self-appointed enforcer of harmony, occupied the couch, her posture rigid with suspicion.
"So this is the dimensional anomaly," Kobayashi said by way of greeting, adjusting her glasses. The ordinary human office worker had seen enough magical chaos in her time to appear remarkably unperturbed by yet another supernatural intrusion.
"Kairos," he introduced himself with a small bow. "Sorry for the interdimensional commotion. I promise it wasn't intentional."
"Few things around dragons ever are," Kobayashi sighed, then gestured to the empty chairs. "Sit. Tohru made tea."
"Excellent!" Kairos took a seat with easy confidence, seemingly unfazed by the scrutiny of multiple dragons. "I'm a sucker for good tea."
"Before we proceed," Fafnir spoke from his corner, his voice deep and resonant, "I would know what we're dealing with." He stepped forward, his human form barely containing the ancient draconic power within. "Show us your true nature, interloper."
Kairos met the dark dragon's gaze without flinching. "This is my true nature, treasure-keeper. I don't have alternative forms or hidden aspects. What you see is what you get."
"Impossible," Fafnir countered. "Every being has an essence, a core nature that can be perceived by those with the sight." His eyes glowed faintly. "Yet when I look at you, I see... contradictions. Impossibilities."
"That's because I am one," Kairos replied simply. "A walking contradiction. A possibility that shouldn't exist but does anyway."
"He claims to be a convergence point of multiple realities," Lucoa explained, accepting a cup of tea from Tohru. "A being that exists across different points of probability."
"Preposterous," Elma interjected from the couch. "Reality doesn't work that way."
"Maybe your reality doesn't," Kairos conceded, turning to her with a smile. "But the multiverse is vast and weird, harmony dragon. Rules that apply in one dimension often break down in others."
"Prove it," Tohru challenged, crossing her arms. "Prove you're this 'convergence point' and not just some random magical entity trying to infiltrate our world."
Kairos considered this, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his teacup. "Fair request. But how do you suggest I prove a negative? I can't show you what I'm not."
"You could demonstrate abilities consistent with your claim," Fafnir suggested, his tone academic despite his suspicion.
"Like what?" Kairos asked. "Probability manipulation? Causal disruption? Reality bending? Those tend to have... side effects." He glanced apologetically at Kobayashi. "And I'd rather not damage your lovely apartment."
"Just do something impossible," Kobayashi suggested dryly. "We're used to impossible around here."
Kairos nodded, then set down his teacup. "Alright. Something impossible but minimal on the collateral damage. I can work with that."
He closed his eyes briefly, and the air around him seemed to shimmer, like heat rising from sun-baked asphalt. When he opened them again, his golden irises glowed with internal light.
"Kanna," he said softly, extending his hand toward the child dragon. "Think of something. Anything at all. Don't say it out loud, just hold the image in your mind."
Kanna tilted her head curiously, then closed her eyes in concentration.
After a moment, Kairos smiled. "A star-shaped candy that tastes like rainbows and makes you float when you eat it."
Kanna's eyes flew open in astonishment. "How did you know?"
"I didn't," Kairos replied. "But now it exists." He opened his palm, and there, resting on his skin, was a perfectly formed star-shaped candy that shimmered with prismatic colors.
Tohru immediately stepped forward protectively. "Don't eat that!"
"It's safe," Kairos assured her. "Just a small probability shift. The chances of such a candy existing somewhere in the multiverse were already non-zero. I just... nudged them a bit in this particular spot."
Kanna looked to Kobayashi for permission. After a moment's hesitation, the human woman nodded.
The small dragon delicately took the candy and placed it on her tongue. Her eyes widened, and a moment later, she rose several inches off the floor, hovering with an expression of pure delight.
"It tastes like rainbows," she confirmed solemnly as she drifted back down. "And I floated."
The room fell silent. Even Fafnir seemed temporarily at a loss for words.
Finally, Kobayashi cleared her throat. "Well, that was definitely impossible."
"Not impossible," Kairos corrected gently. "Just extremely improbable. There's a difference."
"How did you do that?" Elma demanded, leaning forward with reluctant fascination. "That wasn't illusion magic. You actually altered physical laws."
"Like I said—convergence point." Kairos spread his hands. "Where probability threads meet, strange things become possible. I just... select which possibility becomes reality."
"That kind of power..." Tohru's expression shifted from suspicion to alarm. "You could reshape entire worlds!"
"Theoretically," Kairos agreed, "but that would be exhausting and honestly kind of boring. Where's the fun in a world you've custom-designed? All the surprise goes out of life."
"Fun?" Tohru repeated incredulously. "You have reality-altering powers and you're concerned about fun?"
"Shouldn't I be?" Kairos countered, raising an eyebrow. "What's the point of existence if you're not enjoying it?"
This philosophical question seemed to stump Tohru, who looked to Kobayashi for support. The human woman merely shrugged.
"He's got a point," Kobayashi said. "Power without purpose is just... more responsibility."
"Exactly!" Kairos beamed at her. "I knew I'd like you, Kobayashi-san. You get it."
"I don't get anything," Kobayashi replied dryly. "I'm just a human who somehow ended up with an apartment full of dragons and now, apparently, a walking probability anomaly."
"The best things in life are unexpected," Kairos said with a wink.
Fafnir, who had been watching the proceedings with calculating eyes, finally stepped fully into the light. "I have heard legends," he said slowly, "of beings called Nexus Entities. Creatures born at the intersection of multiple timelines, embodying possibilities rather than fixed realities." His dark gaze fixed on Kairos. "They were said to be harbingers of change."
"Sounds ominous," Kairos commented. "I prefer to think of myself as a harbinger of interesting developments."
"There's that word again," Lucoa noted.
"Because it's important," Kairos insisted. "The universe tends toward entropy and predictability. Sometimes it needs a little... nudge... to keep things dynamic."
"And you're the nudger?" Kobayashi asked skeptically.
"One of many, probably," Kairos replied with a shrug. "The multiverse is a big place. I doubt I'm the only convergence point out there."
Kanna, who had been quietly contemplating her magical candy experience, suddenly spoke up. "Can you make more? For everyone?"
Kairos smiled at her. "I could, but it might not be wise to have multiple floating dragons in one apartment. Limited ceiling space," he added with a gesture upward.
"Perhaps," Elma said carefully, "you could demonstrate something else? Something that might help us understand your... nature... better."
Kairos considered this, then nodded. "Fair enough. But you might want to brace yourselves. Reality gets a little... wobbly... when I push too hard."
He closed his eyes again, and this time the air around him did more than shimmer—it rippled, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a falling stone. The lights in the apartment flickered, and for a brief moment, everyone experienced the strange sensation of being simultaneously heavier and lighter than normal.
When Kairos opened his eyes, he was no longer sitting in his chair. Instead, he stood behind Tohru, though no one had seen him move.
"Spatial displacement," he explained as Tohru whirled around with a startled exclamation. "I didn't actually move—I just made it more probable that I was over here than over there."
"That's..." Lucoa began, then paused, genuinely impressed despite herself. "That's not simple teleportation. You actually rewrote local causality."
"Guilty as charged," Kairos admitted, returning to his seat—through normal walking this time. "Like I said, reality gets stretchy around me. It's usually subtle, but I can amplify the effect when needed."
"This is dangerous," Tohru insisted, though her hostility seemed tempered now by reluctant fascination. "Such abilities could destabilize our entire world."
"Only if used carelessly," Kairos countered. "Which I don't intend to do. I respect this world and its inhabitants." His golden gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on each person. "Especially its dragons."
"Flattery won't earn our trust," Elma stated, though her cheeks colored slightly.
"Not trying to flatter, just stating facts." Kairos leaned back in his chair. "Dragons in any reality are fundamental forces—living embodiments of primal elements and concepts. You literally help hold reality together through your existence. Why would I mess with that?"
This assessment of dragon-kind was so accurate and respectfully delivered that even Tohru seemed momentarily disarmed.
"He's right about that part, at least," Fafnir conceded grudgingly. "Dragons do serve as nexus points for magical currents and reality stabilization."
"See? The treasure-keeper knows what I'm talking about," Kairos said with an approving nod toward Fafnir. "I'm not here to disrupt. I'm just... visiting. Accidentally."
"And how long do you plan to 'visit'?" Kobayashi asked, the practical question cutting through the metaphysical discussion.
Kairos glanced at Lucoa. "That's partly up to dragon mommy here. She's been trying to figure out how to send me back."
"Don't call her that," Tohru muttered, but with noticeably less vehemence than before.
"The problem," Lucoa explained, ignoring the nickname, "is that I can't identify any specific dimension to return him to. It's as if he exists everywhere and nowhere simultaneously."
"Because I do," Kairos confirmed. "My consciousness coalesces around probability focal points. Right now, that's here with all of you. Eventually, some other cosmic event will pull me elsewhere."
"So you're just... waiting to randomly disappear?" Kobayashi summarized.
"More or less. Though I prefer to think of it as enjoying the present moment until the universe has other plans." Kairos smiled, his expression suddenly gentle. "And this particular present moment includes some of the most fascinating beings I've encountered in quite some time."
The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, and Lucoa found herself studying him with renewed interest. For all his flippant comments and teasing manner, there were moments when Kairos revealed depths that belied his youthful appearance.
"Well," Kobayashi said finally, setting down her empty teacup, "as dimensional anomalies go, you seem relatively harmless. At least you're not trying to destroy the world or kidnap anyone."
"Low bar, but I'll take it," Kairos laughed.
"You can stay," Kobayashi continued, "as long as you don't cause problems. And," she added with a pointed look, "as long as Lucoa is willing to host you."
All eyes turned to Lucoa, who found herself surprisingly hesitant to say no. After all, Kairos was undeniably interesting, surprisingly helpful around the house, and made excellent breakfast. Plus, the mystery of his existence presented an intellectual puzzle she hadn't encountered in centuries.
"He can stay," she decided. "For now. Until we figure out more about his nature or until the universe reclaims him, whichever comes first."
"Aww, you like me," Kairos teased, his golden eyes twinkling. "Admit it, dragon mommy—I'm growing on you."
"Like an interdimensional fungus," Lucoa replied dryly, but she couldn't quite suppress her smile.
"I'll take it," Kairos declared triumphantly. "Being compared to a fungus is actually quite flattering. Resilient, adaptive organisms, fungi. Vital to any healthy ecosystem."
"Only you would consider that a compliment," Tohru muttered.
"Life's all about perspective, chaos maid," Kairos replied cheerfully. "Speaking of which—" he turned to Kobayashi, "—I make excellent pancakes. Consider this an open invitation for breakfast whenever you want."
"Absolutely not!" Tohru exclaimed. "I am Kobayashi-san's maid! I prepare her meals!"
"Co-chef position?" Kairos suggested. "I could teach you my buttermilk secret."
The offer visibly tempted Tohru, who took immense pride in her cooking. After a moment of internal struggle, she grudgingly asked, "What secret?"
And just like that, the tension in the room dissolved as Kairos launched into an enthusiastic explanation of proper pancake methodology, complete with animated hand gestures and the occasional probability-bending demonstration that had small flecks of phantom flour dancing in the air to illustrate his points.
Lucoa watched as, one by one, the dragons and even the stoic Kobayashi were drawn into his orbit. Kanna had already moved to sit beside him, watching the flour particles with enchanted eyes. Elma was taking notes on pancake technique with scholarly intensity. Even Fafnir had edged closer, ostensibly to monitor the probability manipulations but clearly interested in the culinary discussion.
Only Tohru maintained a pretense of suspicion, though her frequent questions about cooking techniques betrayed her growing engagement.
"Quite the charmer, isn't he?" Kobayashi murmured, having sidled over to stand beside Lucoa.
"Apparently it's a side effect of being a convergence point," Lucoa replied, watching as Kairos now had everyone laughing at some story involving three dragons and a pancake competition.
"Mm-hmm." Kobayashi's tone suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. "And the way you keep looking at him? Is that a side effect too?"
Lucoa glanced sharply at the human woman, who merely sipped her beer with a knowing expression.
"I'm merely observing an unprecedented metaphysical anomaly," Lucoa insisted primly.
"Sure you are," Kobayashi agreed easily. "And I'm merely observing an ex-goddess with a crush on the new interdimensional boy in town."
"That's ridiculous," Lucoa protested, though she felt an uncharacteristic warmth rising to her cheeks. "I'm thousands of years old. He's—"
"A walking convergence point of multiple realities who makes excellent pancakes and looks at you like you're the most fascinating being he's ever encountered," Kobayashi finished for her. "Yeah, totally unsuitable."
Before Lucoa could formulate a proper response, Kairos called across the room:
"Dragon mommy! Kobayashi-san! We're planning a pancake showdown tomorrow morning. Teams are forming. Whose side are you on?"
And despite herself, despite all her divine wisdom and centuries of existence, Lucoa found herself smiling as she replied:
"Yours, apparently."
Kairos's answering grin was brighter than any star she'd ever seen.
Chapter 4: Midnight Conversations
The apartment was quiet when Lucoa emerged from her meditation room well past midnight. She'd spent hours consulting ancient tomes and metaphysical connections, seeking any precedent for a being like Kairos. The results had been frustratingly inconclusive.
She expected the living room to be dark, with Kairos asleep on the couch where she'd left him earlier. Instead, she found soft light spilling from the kitchen and the sound of quiet humming—that same hauntingly beautiful melody she'd heard him hum before.
Curious, she followed the sound.
Kairos sat at the kitchen table, a cup of steaming tea before him, seemingly lost in thought as he absently traced patterns in the air with one finger. Where his finger passed, tiny motes of light lingered briefly before fading, creating ephemeral constellations in the dimly lit kitchen.
He looked up as she entered, his golden eyes catching the low light. "Can't sleep either, dragon mommy?"
"I don't really need sleep," Lucoa replied, settling into the chair across from him. "Not like humans do, anyway."
"Lucky you," Kairos said with a small smile. "Sleep's overrated, but sometimes my brain won't shut up long enough to even try."
"Thinking about how you ended up here?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Nah. Just... possibilities."
"Such as?"
Kairos gestured to the fading light patterns he'd been drawing. "See this? Each point represents a different probability thread. Different versions of reality where choices and chances played out in unique ways."
"And you can see these... threads?" Lucoa asked, fascinated despite herself.
"Not usually this clearly," he admitted. "But sometimes, especially at night when things get quiet, they become more visible to me." He traced another pattern, and new lights bloomed in the air between them. "In some threads, I never appeared in your living room. In others, I did but things played out differently."
"How differently?"
His smile turned mischievous. "Well, in one thread, Tohru immediately tried to incinerate me, and you had to intervene. That was exciting. In another, Shouta's dad was home when I arrived, and he tried to exorcise me, thinking I was a demon."
"And you can see all these alternatives?" Lucoa leaned forward, genuinely intrigued.
"Glimpses, mostly. Like looking at reflections in broken mirror shards." He shrugged. "It's not exactly useful information, but it's interesting to consider the might-have-beens."
"Is that what keeps you awake? Seeing too many possibilities?"
Kairos considered this, his expression growing more thoughtful. "Maybe? It's more that sometimes I feel... stretched. Like I exist in too many places at once, and it's hard to stay anchored to just one."
For the first time since his arrival, Lucoa detected something like vulnerability in his voice. Not pain, exactly, but a certain weariness that made him seem suddenly younger than his apparent seventeen years.
"That sounds disorienting," she said gently.
"It can be," he agreed. "But it's not all bad. Sometimes I catch beautiful things—moments of joy or wonder that wouldn't have happened in this particular reality thread."
"Like what?"
Kairos smiled, and this time it was softer, more genuine than his usual confident grin. "Like Kanna discovering rainbow candy. Or Tohru actually laughing at one of my jokes in some alternate timeline where she doesn't immediately distrust me."
He traced another pattern, and new lights formed. "Or you," he added quietly, "in a thousand different timelines, each one extraordinary in her own way."
Lucoa felt an unexpected warmth spread through her at his words. "You've seen other versions of me?"
"Glimpses," he confirmed. "A warrior-goddess version who never lost her divine status. A modern version who became a university professor teaching ancient mythology. A version who rules a dragon realm with wisdom and slightly less revealing clothing."
This last addition made Lucoa laugh. "My clothing choices are practical for a former heat deity!"
"Never said they weren't," Kairos replied with a grin. "Just noting the multiverse variants."
"And which version do you prefer?" Lucoa asked, the question slipping out before she could reconsider it.
Kairos met her gaze directly, his golden eyes suddenly serious. "This one. The one sitting across from me right now, who accidentally summoned me while bored and tipsy. The one who could have banished or destroyed me, but instead offered me tea and a place to stay."
The sincerity in his voice caught Lucoa off guard. For all his flirtatious comments and playful banter, this moment of genuine appreciation felt surprisingly intimate.
"That's... a good answer," she admitted.
"I excel at those," he replied, the serious moment passing as his usual playful demeanor reasserted itself. "It's one of my many talents, along with pancake-making and interdimensional probability manipulation."
Lucoa smiled, somehow charmed by his ability to shift from depth to lightness so effortlessly. "Speaking of your talents, that display today with Kanna's candy was impressive. More impressive than you let on, I think."
Kairos tilted his head, studying her curiously. "What makes you say that?"
"Because I know something about the metaphysics of creation," she replied. "To manifest an object with specific properties—physical and magical—requires precise control and substantial power. Yet you made it look casual, almost effortless."
"Maybe I'm just that good," he suggested with a wink.
"Or maybe you're holding back," Lucoa countered. "Downplaying what you're really capable of."
For a brief moment, something flickered in Kairos's eyes—a recognition that she'd seen through his casual facade. Then he shrugged. "People tend to get nervous around too much power. Figured it was better to ease everyone into the whole 'reality-bending' thing rather than coming in hot."
"Smart," Lucoa acknowledged. "Though I suspect Fafnir, at least, has guessed there's more to you."
"Treasure-keeper's sharp," Kairos agreed. "Reminds me of a dragon I knew back home. Always calculating, always watching for angles." A fond smile touched his lips. "Terrible at card games though. Too predictable."
"You played cards with dragons?"
"Among other things," Kairos replied. "We had this game that was sort of like poker mixed with reality manipulation. Each player would subtly alter the probability of their hand being good. The real skill was detecting when others were shifting reality without getting caught doing it yourself."
"That sounds... chaotic."
"It was," Kairos agreed with a laugh. "Once ended with three moons in the sky and everyone's hair turned green for a week. Good times."
The casual mention of such reality-altering power should have been alarming, but somehow, in the quiet intimacy of the midnight kitchen, it just seemed like another facet of Kairos's unusual nature.
"You miss them," Lucoa observed. "Your friends from home."
Kairos's smile turned wistful. "Sometimes