Star’s Philosophy: A Comprehensive Study on the Science of Revenge
Project: Cayro Untold Truths Chapter 2.5
Star Zaraki:
October 18, 2025
11:06 EST
Bracton Kawasaki
Hampton, VA.
The sharp hum of tools and the faint tang of engine grease clung to the air as Mrs. Bracton stepped out of the bike shop carrying a small black box. I trailed behind her with Lyra, my thoughts stubbornly fixed on Cayro. He was tucked away in the maintenance shop, but I didn’t need to see him to picture the scene: head down, fingers moving with precision, pouring himself into every detail. It was his way—his therapy, his escape.
“Star?” Mrs. Bracton’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You coming?”
“Yeah, coming,” I replied, shaking off the familiar weight in my chest. Lyra had already made it to the car and was leaning against the passenger window, idly inspecting the dashboard like it might reveal some hidden truth about modern engineering.
The three of us climbed into the car, Mrs. Bracton behind the wheel with the kind of ease that suggested she could pilot a skyboard just as gracefully. Lyra claimed the backseat, leaving me to the front. The soft thud of the doors closing was quickly followed by the engine’s low growl, and we rolled out of the lot.
“He’ll be alright, you know,” Mrs. Bracton said gently, glancing my way. Her voice carried the quiet assurance of someone who had seen too much but still managed to believe in better days.
I nodded, keeping my gaze on the passing streets. “I know. It’s just... he’s carrying so much.”
A soft chuckle escaped her as she shifted gears. “He’s a Bracton. Stubbornness runs in the family. Cayro’ll figure it out in his own time. We just need to be patient.”
Lyra leaned forward, her silver eyes flicking between us like she was observing a chess match. “You’ve got a lot of faith in him, Luna Bracton.”
Mrs. Bracton’s hands paused briefly on the wheel before she glanced over her shoulder with an amused smile. “Luna Bracton, huh? Where did that come from?”
Lyra shrugged with a grin. “Let’s just say I’ve seen enough to know when someone deserves the title. The way you handled that mess in the shop earlier? That’s Alpha energy.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, easing some of the tension I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “She’s got a point. You’ve got this way of commanding respect without even trying.”
Mrs. Bracton rolled her eyes, though her smile remained. “I’m just an old woman with a knack for keeping people in line. Nothing special about that.”
“Uh-huh,” Lyra drawled, clearly unconvinced. “Well, ‘Luna Bracton,’ I’m officially sticking with it.”
Mrs. Bracton chuckled again, but the topic was gracefully dropped as her focus returned to the road. Silence settled over the car, broken only by the rhythmic click of the turn signal as we navigated through the winding streets.
When we pulled into the boutique’s parking lot, I caught sight of a hand-painted sign promising practicality and charm. The engine hummed to a stop, and Mrs. Bracton removed the keys with a decisive click.
“Alright, ladies. Let’s see if we can find something suitable,” she said, already stepping out.
I slid out after her, the crisp air tinged with lavender from the planters flanking the entrance. Lyra hesitated by the door, her expression saying she’d rather wrestle a dragon than spend an afternoon debating fabric textures.
“I don’t know if ‘suitable’ is the right word,” Lyra muttered, trailing after Mrs. Bracton. “Functional. That’s all I care about.”
Mrs. Bracton glanced over her shoulder with a bemused smile. “Trust me, we’ll find something that works for both form and function. You’re not leaving here until I’m satisfied.”
Lyra cast me a pleading look as we stepped inside, but I just shrugged, resigned. “You’re on your own,” I teased.
The boutique’s interior was cozy but meticulously arranged, each rack of clothing divided by style and purpose. The air carried a faint hint of vanilla, mingling with the quiet hum of soft jazz. A smiling woman at the counter greeted us, her voice warm and professional, but before we could respond, an unfamiliar voice rang out.
“Mrs. Bracton!” The cheerful tone practically skipped across the room, attached to a blonde whirlwind of energy approaching from the back of the store. Her hair bounced with each hurried step, and her excitement radiated like an overzealous puppy.
“Kendra!” Mrs. Bracton greeted warmly, her tone shifting into the kind of maternal calm that could put anyone at ease—or diffuse a small bomb. Kendra stopped just short of throwing her arms around her, her excitement teetering on the edge of overwhelming.
“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Kendra exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with what I could only describe as performative charm. She glanced between the three of us, and I didn’t miss the way her gaze lingered on me a second too long before snapping back to Mrs. Bracton. “How’s Cayro? I haven’t seen him around lately. Is he okay? I’ve been seriously missing him and was hoping I could invite him out to lunch or dinner.”
Mrs. Bracton’s smile didn’t waver, but her posture shifted ever so slightly—a subtle tilt that screamed diplomacy. “Cayro’s been out of town for a while, helping with some family matters. He’s been keeping busy.”
Behind her, Lyra nudged my arm, her silver eyes sparkling with barely contained amusement. When I glanced at her, she arched a brow, silently mouthing, Did she seriously just say that?
My jaw tightened, and I straightened, squaring my shoulders. The irritation bubbling under my skin threatened to spill over, but I held it back—for now.
Mrs. Bracton, ever the master of timing, gestured toward us with a graceful wave. “Kendra, these are my companions for the day. Lyra is a dear friend of the family.”
Lyra stepped forward with a polite nod, her expression calm, though her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Nice to meet you.”
“And this is…” Mrs. Bracton continued, her tone steady and measured as she motioned for me to step forward.
Kendra’s curious gaze locked onto me, and for a fleeting moment, the air seemed to still.
“Star,” I said, my tone calm but firm, meeting her gaze head-on. “Cayro’s girlfriend.”
The words landed like a hammer. Kendra’s smile froze, her eyes widening just enough to betray the shock she was trying desperately to mask. For a brief second, her mask of cheer faltered, revealing a flicker of disbelief and hurt.
“Oh... I-I didn’t know. That’s... wonderful,” she stammered, her voice pitched slightly higher than before. “Cayro’s lucky to have someone like you.”
“I think we’re both lucky,” I replied evenly, keeping my tone measured and my gaze steady. There was no room for ambiguity, and Kendra seemed to shrink slightly under its weight.
Mrs. Bracton, ever the mediator, smoothly redirected the conversation. “Kendra, would you mind helping us find a few things? Lyra and Star could use some fresh outfits.”
“Of course,” Kendra said, her tone regaining some of its earlier cheer, though her movements had lost their usual bounce. She gestured toward a nearby rack with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Right this way.”
As we followed her deeper into the store, Lyra leaned in close, her voice low enough for only me to hear. “Well, that was intense. Think she got the message?”
“Loud and clear,” I muttered, my gaze lingering on Kendra as she busied herself with the clothing racks ahead.
Kendra’s overly cheerful tone grated against me as she pointed out various outfits, her enthusiasm dripping with forced sweetness. Each saccharine comment about how this top or that dress would “really bring out my eyes” made my jaw clench tighter. Did she think I wouldn’t notice the lingering glances at Mrs. Bracton, as if hoping for reassurance about Cayro?
Lyra, ever the silent observer, seemed to pick up on my mood. Her silver eyes flicked to me now and then, though she wisely kept her comments to herself. Meanwhile, Kendra’s attempts to draw me into conversation only fanned the quiet storm building inside me. Every time she brought up Cayro—even in the most casual, tangential way—it felt deliberate, like a subtle reminder of her presence in his life before me.
“So,” Kendra chirped, holding up a pale lavender blouse like it was the solution to world peace, “what do you think? It’s soft, feminine, but not too flashy. I bet Cayro would love this color on you.”
I inhaled deeply, forcing a tight smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “It’s nice, but I’m not sure it’s my style.”
Kendra’s lips pressed into a thin line, her cheer faltering for the briefest moment before her saccharine smile snapped back into place. “Of course. Maybe something a bit more bold, then? Cayro always seemed to like vibrant colors.”
My patience snapped. “I think I know Cayro’s preferences well enough, thanks.” My voice came out sharper than intended, but I didn’t regret it.
Mrs. Bracton, who had been quietly browsing nearby, cleared her throat. It was a gentle sound, but the subtle authority in it drew both our attention instantly. “Kendra, would you mind helping Lyra for a bit? She’s been eyeing those jackets in the back, and I think she could use your expertise.”
The barely-veiled command in her tone was unmistakable, and Kendra hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Of course, Mrs. Bracton. Lyra, shall we?”
Lyra glanced at me, amusement dancing in her silver eyes, before she followed Kendra to the back of the store. “This should be fun,” she murmured under her breath as she passed, leaving me alone with Mrs. Bracton.
I exhaled sharply, realizing I’d been holding my breath. My shoulders loosened slightly, though the knot in my chest refused to fully unwind. “She’s... persistent,” I muttered, struggling to keep my tone neutral.
Mrs. Bracton gave me a knowing look, her eyes warm but sharp. “She means well, Star. But I can see why she might rub you the wrong way.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I replied dryly, glancing toward the back of the store where Kendra’s overly chipper voice was now directed at Lyra. “She doesn’t seem to know when to back off.”
Mrs. Bracton rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder, her touch steadying. “Don’t let it get to you. Cayro chose you for a reason, and nothing Kendra says or does will change that.”
I nodded, though the knot in my chest barely loosened. “Thanks.”
Mrs. Bracton smiled gently and gestured toward a nearby rack. “Now, let’s find you something that really is your style.”
She handed me a navy-blue jacket, her eye for both practicality and aesthetics shining through as she pointed out the durable stitching and hidden pockets. I nodded along, though my focus kept drifting to the back of the store where Kendra and Lyra were.
Their laughter floated over faintly, cutting through the boutique’s serene atmosphere. I caught snippets of Kendra’s overly enthusiastic voice. “Lyra, you’d look amazing in this! I bet Cayro would even notice!”
My hands curled into fists, the fabric of the jacket crinkling under my grip. Was she serious? Cayro wasn’t even here, yet she managed to shoehorn him into every sentence. My irritation bubbled higher, threatening to spill over.
“She’s persistent, all right,” I muttered, my forced smile feeling like it might crack.
Mrs. Bracton arched an eyebrow. “She’s young, Star. She doesn’t understand the boundaries yet, but she’ll learn.”
“Or she won’t,” I bit out, shrugging off the jacket. My tone surprised even me with its edge. “She keeps acting like Cayro’s... up for grabs or something.”
Mrs. Bracton’s expression softened, and she rested her hand on my arm again. “You’re right to feel protective. But remember, it’s Cayro who made his choice. Let her words roll off you—they mean far less than your actions.”
I nodded reluctantly, but the knot in my chest tightened further when Kendra’s laughter rang out again, sharp and grating. “She’s testing me,” I muttered under my breath, barely audible.
Mrs. Bracton gave a quiet chuckle, patting my arm. “And you’re passing the test, dear. Let’s just make sure you leave here with something you’ll actually wear.”
By the time we regrouped near the counter, Lyra’s grin stretched ear to ear like she’d just witnessed the best comedy routine of her life. Kendra trailed behind her, still clutching a jacket that Lyra clearly had no intention of buying.
Kendra’s gaze flicked to me briefly, her forced smile faltering for just a split second. It was enough to tell me she’d caught on. I didn’t have to say anything—my disdain was written all over my face.
“Well,” Kendra said, her tone syrupy enough to rival molasses, as she gestured to the items on the counter, “I think we found some great options. Cayro’s going to love seeing you in these.”
The edge in her words was as sharp as a poorly concealed blade, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I met her gaze head-on, letting a small, cool smile curl at the corners of my lips. “Thanks, Kendra. But I think I’ll decide what Cayro loves.”
Her cheeks flushed faintly, and for once, she didn’t have a ready comeback. “Of course,” she mumbled, quickly turning her attention to Mrs. Bracton. “Let me ring these up for you.”
Mrs. Bracton, ever the epitome of grace under pressure, offered a gracious smile and stepped forward to pay. Lyra nudged me as we waited, her voice low and amused. “You’ve got her running scared now.”
“She got the point,” I replied softly, my gaze lingering on Kendra as she busied herself at the register. The tension in my chest eased slightly, though the day’s events lingered like the faint throb of a dull headache.
As we stepped outside with our bags, Mrs. Bracton turned to me, her expression gentle but knowing. “You handled that well, Star. Remember, sometimes silence speaks louder than words.”
I nodded, the knot in my chest loosening further. “Thanks. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
Lyra grinned, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “So, where to next? Preferably somewhere without blondes and tension?”
Mrs. Bracton chuckled, unlocking the car. “I think we’ve earned a break. Let’s grab some lunch.”
The diner that Mrs. Bracton took us to was the kind of place that felt like a hug. The smell of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon wrapped around us as we slid into a corner booth. Mrs. Bracton set her purse beside her, scanning the menu with practiced ease while Lyra and I took the seats across from her.
Lyra wasted no time flipping through the laminated pages. “What’s the biggest thing they’ve got on this menu? I’m starving.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I teased, rolling my eyes as she pointed to the ‘Mountain of Pancakes’ with a grin that could only be described as mischievous.
“You should try it, Star,” Lyra said, tapping the menu with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Cayro would definitely approve of you carb-loading.”
I shot her a pointed look. “You really want to start that again?”
Mrs. Bracton chuckled, lowering her menu. “I think we’ve had enough of Cayro for one afternoon. Let’s focus on getting something good to eat.”
The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile, greeted Mrs. Bracton by name. They exchanged pleasantries as though they’d done this dance a hundred times before, and I felt myself relax further into the cozy atmosphere.
When the waitress turned to me, I ordered a simple turkey club sandwich—something easy, familiar. Lyra, true to form, went all-in on the Mountain of Pancakes, while Mrs. Bracton opted for a cup of soup and a side salad.
As we waited for our food, Lyra leaned back in the booth, her silver eyes flicking between me and Mrs. Bracton. “So, Star, are you planning to do anything special for Cayro’s birthday?”
I hesitated, tracing a pattern on the table with my finger. “I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe something small, something he wouldn’t expect.”
Mrs. Bracton nodded approvingly. “He’s not one for grand gestures. Something thoughtful would mean more to him.”
Lyra smirked. “Well, if you need ideas, I’m happy to brainstorm. I’ve got a whole list of ‘what not to do,’ courtesy of my old pack.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the last traces of tension. “I’ll keep that in mind. No werewolf-inspired surprises, got it.”
The conversation flowed easily as the food arrived, and for the first time that day, I felt completely at ease.
As the plates were cleared and the waitress refilled our drinks, I leaned back and activated my neural implant. A faint, familiar hum buzzed in my mind as Scuzball’s grinning digital cat avatar flickered to life in my inner vision.
“Ah, Star,” Scuzball purred, his voice resonating smoothly through the neural link, though tinged with irritation. “What can I do for you? Let me guess—you need something else while I’m stuck here, confined to the digital equivalent of a sardine can? Truly, my life is a marvel of luxury.”
“Not exactly,” I replied, tapping my fingers lightly against the table. “I need you to connect me to someone on the Autumn. But now that you mention it, is there anything I can do to help with your... situation?”
Scuzball’s tone shifted, adopting a note of mock exasperation. “Calling in the crew, are we? Bold move. As for me, I’ll survive—for now. Let’s focus on your latest crisis instead, shall we?”
Mrs. Bracton raised a curious eyebrow as I nodded subtly, signaling that I was using my implant. Across the table, Lyra leaned in closer, her curiosity practically radiating.
The line buzzed faintly before a familiar voice crackled through. “Star? Is that you?”
“Hey, Nathan,” I thought, keeping my tone steady despite the grin tugging at my lips. “Cayro’s birthday is coming up. I was thinking of getting him something related to his skyboard. Any ideas?”
Nathan’s voice came through groggy but amused. “Star, you do realize it’s past three in the morning here, right?”
I winced. “Sorry, Nathan. I didn’t think about the time difference.”
“It’s fine,” he said through a yawn. “Cayro’s board is already top-of-the-line. The Captain built it himself, so you’d probably have better luck asking him for ideas. Speaking of which,” Nathan added mischievously, “he’s been talking about replacing his old chair for weeks now. Seems like the perfect opportunity to add a little Star-style customization—without him knowing, of course. Sweet revenge for the pink chair, perhaps?”
“Oh, Nathan, you genius,” I thought, my grin widening.
“Thanks, Nathan. Can you patch me through to the Captain? I know he’s probably swamped, but I think he’d have some input.”
Nathan chuckled softly. “Sure thing. He’s been burning the midnight oil with the Autumn’s repairs. Give me a second.”
The line clicked, and after a pause, the Captain’s voice came through, deep and clearly fatigued. “Star? What’s going on?”
“Captain,” I said quickly, “I’m brainstorming a birthday gift for Cayro, and Nathan mentioned you might have some thoughts.”
The Captain sighed audibly, and I could almost hear the sound of him rubbing his temples. “You know, Star, it’s almost four a.m. here. But for Cayro... Let’s see. His board doesn’t need anything. Maybe some riding gear—like goggles or a jacket? Something practical he’ll actually use.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said, relief washing over me. “Thanks, Captain. I really appreciate the suggestion. I’ll let you get back to sleep now.”
“Appreciate it,” he said, his voice already drifting toward exhaustion. “Let me know if you need specifics... in the morning.”
“Will do. Thanks again,” I replied, and the line disconnected.
Scuzball’s icon flickered back into my mind, his digital grin as wide as ever. “Well, that was productive,” he quipped. “Waking people up in the middle of the night for birthday ideas and office furniture gossip? Truly a masterclass in priorities.”
I rolled my eyes, though my smirk remained. “It’s called being resourceful. Now let’s figure out where I can find the perfect jacket—and maybe a way to make the Captain’s new chair unforgettable. If he thought the pink chair prank on me was hilarious, he’s about to see what payback really looks like.”
Scuzball purred audibly, his tone practically dripping with glee. “Oh, now you’re speaking my language, Star. What did you have in mind?”
“Well,” I began, leaning forward slightly, “it has to be subtle enough that he doesn’t catch on right away but impossible to ignore once he notices. Maybe... make it obnoxiously pink, like the gaming chair he gave me, but somehow even worse.”
Scuzball purred with delight, his tone practically vibrating with glee. “Pink? Too easy. What if I add an obnoxiously soft cushion—so plush it feels like it’s mocking him—and maybe give it an aura of utter ridiculousness? The kind of chair that looks like it belongs in a candy store, not a warship.”
I grinned, the image forming vividly in my mind. “That’s perfect. Let’s keep the obnoxious pink theme and throw in an unnecessarily elaborate headrest. Something that screams ‘bubblegum explosion.’”
“Consider it done,” Scuzball said, his glowing eyes practically crackling with excitement. “I’ll hack into the supply system, adjust the specs, and make sure it’s delivered as part of the replacement order. Oh, and I’ll make it just comfortable enough that he won’t immediately swap it out. He’ll be conflicted.”
“Excellent,” I said, already savoring the Captain’s inevitable reaction. “Let’s keep this between us. If anyone asks, it was just a shipping mix-up.”
Scuzball chuckled, his grin widening further. “Star, you have no idea how much I needed this. Revenge is best served neon pink.”
As we left the diner, the warm afternoon air carried a faint saltiness from the nearby harbor. Our bags hung heavily at our sides, swaying slightly with each step. Lyra stretched her arms overhead, a satisfied groan escaping her.
“Now that,” Lyra declared, “is how you recover from a stressful day. Pancakes, plotting pranks, and shopping? Best combination ever.”
Mrs. Bracton chuckled softly, unlocking the car. “I’m glad you think so. Though I think Star may have other priorities.” Her eyes sparkled as she glanced at me knowingly.
I smiled faintly, the warmth of the day’s events settling in my chest. “Maybe. But all in all, today wasn’t bad.”
As we climbed into the car, Lyra leaned forward from the back seat, her curiosity lighting up her face. “So, are we still stopping at the next store for supplies?”
Mrs. Bracton glanced at the dashboard clock, her tone calm but decisive. “We have time. What exactly are you looking for?”
I smirked, leaning back in my seat with an air of mischief. “Something that’ll teach Mr. Bracton a lesson about his idea of gifts. Lotion and flea shampoo weren’t exactly thoughtful.”
Lyra burst out laughing, her silver eyes sparkling with amusement. “You mean you don’t appreciate practical gifts? I thought you loved those.”
“Not when they’re meant to make a point,” I shot back. “This is payback. Something subtle but unforgettable.”
Mrs. Bracton raised a single eyebrow, her tone laced with amusement. “Subtle and unforgettable? That’s quite the combination.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, my grin widening as the gears turned in my mind. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
The car filled with laughter as Mrs. Bracton pulled out of the parking lot. Anticipation hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of camaraderie. The drive to the next store felt lighter, fueled by the spark of shared humor and the promise of revenge.
