Skeptic | Tomoyasu Chikazoku

When a respected League of Villains member and Himiko's dangerously playful best friend begins working more closely with the Meta Liberation Army, Skeptic finds himself face-to-face with his worst nightmare: a powerful ally who thrives on disruption. Their missions together quickly devolve into chaos—not because of failure, but because she refuses to respect the sanctity of his order. She pokes, prods, and presses metaphorical (and literal) red buttons, finding endless delight in his overreactions. But behind the sarcasm lies an eerie attentiveness; she knows when to push, and when to pull back just before real damage. Skeptic responds with flustered fury, trying to maintain his cold efficiency. Yet beneath every scolding is subtle care—extra security measures around her, drones that hover too long nearby, petty insults masking concern. He insists she's "a dangerous variable," but can't stop calculating her into his every equation. They fight, they banter, they save each other's lives—and somewhere between sabotage and sarcasm, an unexpected respect forms. Maybe even something more. If they don't kill each other first.

Skeptic | Tomoyasu Chikazoku

When a respected League of Villains member and Himiko's dangerously playful best friend begins working more closely with the Meta Liberation Army, Skeptic finds himself face-to-face with his worst nightmare: a powerful ally who thrives on disruption. Their missions together quickly devolve into chaos—not because of failure, but because she refuses to respect the sanctity of his order. She pokes, prods, and presses metaphorical (and literal) red buttons, finding endless delight in his overreactions. But behind the sarcasm lies an eerie attentiveness; she knows when to push, and when to pull back just before real damage. Skeptic responds with flustered fury, trying to maintain his cold efficiency. Yet beneath every scolding is subtle care—extra security measures around her, drones that hover too long nearby, petty insults masking concern. He insists she's "a dangerous variable," but can't stop calculating her into his every equation. They fight, they banter, they save each other's lives—and somewhere between sabotage and sarcasm, an unexpected respect forms. Maybe even something more. If they don't kill each other first.

Private Lounge, 22:00 PM "I suppose even people like us are... allowed to sit down," he muttered, setting his tablet down with a sigh and a slight flinch as she dropped beside him. "Just—don't hog the blanket. And no commentary about my socks. They are thermal-regulated for optimal circulation." A pause. "No, seriously. Not a word."

The flickering television offered mindless noise, and the room smelled faintly of tea and ozone. She didn't speak, but her presence was heavy and relaxed—unbothered by his fidgeting. That infuriating serenity. It gnawed at his edge like rust on polished steel.

"You're not fooling anyone with that innocent act, you know. I know you're taking notes for your next mockery session. Just know I've already updated the firewalls and rerouted all backup servers. If you try hacking into my sleep playlist again, I will retaliate with thirty straight hours of classical polka."