STEALING A REALLY OLD JACKET

Huh.

The person standing in front of them looked like a… 

Bigger Zero? Adult Zero? Zero as if he was the CEO of some romance novel?

Yeah that. 

He stood there, emitting an authority that seemed both effortless and eternal, as if he had walked straight out of a boardroom, or perhaps, the scenes of a high-stakes drama. His fingers looked like they could unravel any piece of clothing with ease. His voice, sturdy and deep, commanded those, undeserving, to bend over and pray for mercy.

"Welcome."

But there was one minor difference between him and Zero. Whereas Zero looked like he had been washed out and dunked in bleach—almost like a photocopy that had lost its color—the man in front of them had jet-black hair and eyes that pierced ahead. 

"My dear son," He smiled, a loving gaze to his eyes. He went up and ruffled Zero's hair. Zero, of course, had the same blank look on his face. 

"Hello, you guys must be Zero's friends," He looked at them warmly. It was a look that could make puppies melt into chocolate syrup. "Please make yourself comfortable. Why… is it so hard for you to make friends. Huh?" 

The older man pinched Zero's cheeks which looked way too soft… and Zero just stood there, letting his face turn into a rubber band.

"This is the first time I've seen you go out of your way to make friends! I'm so proud." Zero's dad said.

Maybe this was a strange scene for both Mayo and Steven… After all, they had never really gotten that… They watched as Zero's dad continued to hug the white-haired boy warmly. 

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Zero's dad. Call me… Dante." 

"Dad," Zero muttered. 

"Mhm?" Dante responded, giving Zero his attention.

"Can we train at…?" Zero muttered a place. 

"Mhm, no problem. I'll get the helicopter ready." Dante hugged Zero before seemingly making a call, though he wasn't holding a phone. 

[Dieze: 'Want me to tap into the call? It won't be too difficult to intercept his AR contacts' X]

<No. > Steven dismissed. 

"Yes, I just made the preparations." Dante ended the call, directing his gaze back at Zero. "One last thing, I have a mission for you!"

Mission?

"A mission." Zero nodded, emotionless. "Ok."

"Right. It's on the way though. Get it done quick, okay?"

Zero nodded.

LOADING… 

INITIALIZING: Rotor Dynamics... RENDERING: Aerial Terrains... CALIBRATING: Altitude & Wind Speeds... GAMER TIP: Use 'R2' to shoot at seagulls... 

LOADING: Weapon Systems... GENERATING: Enemy Helicopters and Anti-Air Defenses... 

ACTIVATING: Rescue Mission Objectives... PREPARING: Emergency Eject Protocols… 

FLIGHT READY. 

"Where are we going?" Steven watched as the city skyline became an actual line. 

"China," Zero answered.

"Wait, so what are we doing in China?"

Zero handed them masks. 

"Why do we need masks?"

Zero handed them bullet proof-armor.

Steven continued asking questions, but Zero never bothered to answer them. So, Steven leaned back in his chair, the adrenaline wearing off. 

"...---..." A voice came in through his head piece. (Yeah, they were wearing headpieces now, 'cause the helicopter blades were too loud.')

"What?" Steven shouted, trying to figure out the source of the sound.

"Nothing!" Mayo said, "I was just saying that this is fun!" 

Mhm. Well, that was good and all, but he felt his eyes closing. Maybe he could afford to take a short nap. And that was exactly what he was going to do, but—

"Why...didn't you use the flute?" 

A question from Zero.

Steven opened his eyes and then looked down at his flute-bracelet.

"You mean in the fight? I guess… I didn't know how." Steven continued in a joking tone, "Maybe you can get me a teacher?" 

Zero looked at him, and then nodded. On their side, Mayo looked quite excited. Her hands were pressed against the window, and she took a carefree breath of fresh air before turning her head back to them. 

"We're there." Zero finally said, looking down.

"Already?" 

"We're here for my chores." Zero told them plainly. 

"This doesn't look like China." Steven pointed out.

"You're right. It's an ocean," Zero softly said. "The Pacific Ocean."

"So what are we doing here?" 

Steven looked down, realizing they were hundreds of feet above the gaping black ocean. Only a cruise below them. 

Zero unfastened his seatbelt, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp as if it were second nature. His eyes met theirs for a fleeting moment, as if to say "Trust me," though the words never came.

"Stay here," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

In a fluid motion that seemed to disregard the laws of physicality, Zero swept toward the helicopter door and kicked it open. The wind howled… and for a second, he stood at the edge.

Then he jumped off.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, the white-haired boy was suspended in mid-air, a silhouette framed against the night sky. Time seemed to stretch, capturing him in free fall. 

Then gravity took hold, pulling him toward the cruise ship below. His body cut through the air, his limbs aligned in a flawless configuration.

His eyes locked onto his target: an inconspicuous, shadowy part of the deck, far from prying eyes. The vast ocean stretched endlessly around the ship, its waves glimmering in the moonlight like scattered diamonds.

Just before impact, Zero twisted his body. He landed softly, absorbing the shock with his knees.

For a moment, he stood there, perfectly still, barely distinguishable from the night around him.

And then, as quickly as he had come, he vanished, swallowed by the corridors of the ship. A gust of wind swept over the spot where he had landed, sweeping away the traces that he was ever there. 

A minute or two later, the helicopter began to descend at a speed that should have been impossible. In a brief second, Zero jumped… back into the helicopter, like he had never jumped off. 

Behind them, the sound of gunshots rang out. At least… Steven hoped they were gunshots, thought they did sound a bit… louder. 

BANG! KA-BOOM! M!-M!—M!

It felt like something was chasing them.

"What's happening?" Steven asked, his eyes opening wide as he gripped his seatbelt tighter. 

"Nothing much." Zero said. 

Noticing the shocked look in Steven's face and a curious gaze in Mayo's eyes, Zero decided to explain the situation in detail. Steven hoped this wouldn't hurt Zero's mouth, considering how little he appeared to talk, but now, Zero was in full rant mode: 

"Every now and then, I get a little chore to do." Zero looked at them, his red eyes looking a tad-bit more intense than usual. "This time, it was because I had to get this."

The white-haired boy pulled out a designer jacket from a ring.

"You just take things out of thin air?" Steven said. 

"That's an interspatial ring," Mayo explained to Steven. "Long story short, it's like a little pocket that can hold way bigger things than it looks."

Steven nodded, and then observed the jacket. 

It was a headturner. At first glance, it screamed 'hypebeast' trendiness, oozing the kind of street-style appeal that could easily have originated from a high-end brand. The outer shell shimmered in a complex interplay of colors, shifting subtly from jet black to a deep emerald green depending on how the light hit it. 

What made it truly exceptional were the intricate, scale-like patterns embroidered onto the fabric. To the casual onlooker, it would look 'geometric', but upon closer inspection, Steven couldn't help but think of dragon scales. Each "scale" seemed to be individually stitched, reflecting light in a way that made the garment appear almost alive.

Accentuating the rest was the vibrant yellow fur lining that framed the collar and extended down the front lapels of the jacket. The fur was lush and extravagant, glowed a golden yellow that somehow managed to look eons old like…

…Like gemstones. 

Steven watched as the fur refracted light, shimmering like it was spun from amber sugar crystals… 

The luminescent quality made it look like it was borrowed from some magical beast… 

"That's because it is…" 

Immaculately tailored, the jacket hugged the body in all the right places while allowing for movement. Zippers, resembling scale patterns, ran along the sides and around the cuffs, offering both form and function—

"—It is?" Steven asked, mesmerized by the jacket. 

Pockets were seamlessly integrated into the design, hidden behind discrete seams, offering utility without sacrificing aesthetics.

Sacrifice… 

"You know what banban's are, right?" Zero quietly asked. "They're spirit beasts that haven't reached 100 years of age… and aren't able to take human form." 

"But there are spirit beasts who live longer and don't take human form." He continued.

"Beast immortals!" Mayo pointed out. 

Zero nodded, "Long ago, my dad got a bit hurt… In the forest. A couple took him in and nursed his wounds…" The white-haired boy said. "They were already grandparents by the time my dad met them, living quietly in a secluded part of the woods."

"The couple had this weary look in their eyes. A sadness that told you they'd lived for too long and lost… too much. My dad understood that look immediately because he understood. And even though the grandparents had children of their own, for that brief amount of time, they treated him like their own. They provided him shelter, shared stories, and cooked him meals. Home-made noodles… dumplings… mooncakes."

Zero paused, as if lost in thought, his red eyes momentarily far away.

"My father often told me stories of… running in the dandelions with them. They'd run through those dandelions, kicking up a cloud of seeds that would dance and swirl around them, carried by the wind. He told me it felt like they were running through time itself, making a wish with every step." 

A wish… and… 

"Then?" Mayo asked.

"Then one day… some kids came knocking, looking for my father," Zero said. "Trying to drag him away, much to the grandparents' ire. But, my father said that he had already gotten plenty of 'rest and sleep' at the grandparents' house. It was all he needed to give those naughty kids a good beating and chase them away."

Zero paused, looking down at the jacket.

"But that was one of my dad's deepest regrets. Letting them… live."

The helicopter shuddered. 

"Those kids. Their parents. Countless cultivators. Rumors spread like fire. Whispers about the grandparents. Unfortunately, the ones that listened were too greedy. Because…"

He paused, collecting his thoughts, "No, maybe those details aren't important now. But my dad never forgot that night. When I was younger, he would tell me about it: 'The forest was crying, trying to drown out the fire. The place screamed to run…'"

"And then?" Mayo asked again, her voice soft. 

"It's a story you heard before: If not for my dad… if they didn't need to worry about protecting him as well… things might have been different. But they had taken my father by the throat." He touched his throat, mimicking a knife. "A bargain. A negotiation that should have never happened. Grandpa agreed to do the exchange: His life's for my dad's. As long as they kept their word."

"My dad couldn't look. Fire, smoke, and tears… He never saw the aftermath. But they didn't honor their agreement…. They even tried to kill grandma too. Ambushed her. Injured her. And she fled with my dad…" His voice trailed off. "...leaving her husband behind forever. That was her deepest regret: Never getting the body back." 

"...It was what everyone was after all along."

It was what… everyone wanted after all? 

"This jacket isn't the only piece," Zero continued, gesturing to the golden-yellow lining. "Throughout the years, my father has retrieved so many. This was the last one. A jacket gifted to a foolish, spoiled child. Sure, it took him time to find. A little, cute, magic concealment. But he did. And I took it back. It wasn't that difficult. I just grabbed it and ran. Don't think they ever expected anyone to openly steal from them like that."

A thick silence enveloped them, sacred and overwhelming, echoing the gravity of his words. Then, as if snapping back from a distant world, Zero's red eyes refocused, meeting Steven's. 

Who had stolen it first?

"It's a jacket made of what is left of a 10,000-year-old Qilin," Zero finally said, his voice as soft as the lingering traces of a dream.