A/N: The first girl I romanced in Reload. Yuko is my favorite, but Chihiro will be my first.

Justice - VIII

Actions have consequences. Whatever is put out into the world is returned with equal force. Good and evil, two concepts locked in eternal battle, have a clear line between them. And that which follows the truth is the karmic entity of Justice, Number VIII of the Arcana. To find the one true path, one must seek guidance amidst uncertainty.

Justice embodies accountability, symbolizing the universal balance of right and wrong. It often calls for introspection and ethical clarity. Good and evil stood opposed, with a clear line separating them—just as clear as her view of her daughter, Chihiro: sweet, studious, and well-behaved. Yet, lately, she'd noticed subtle shifts that left her wondering. The shift wasn't dramatic, but it was enough to make Miss Fushimi sit up and take notice. Her daughter, who used to cycle through the same three ponytail styles and couldn't care less about fashion, had begun experimenting. Loose waves one day, a sleek bun the next. Subtle lipstick appeared on her face, paired with trendy outfits that drew compliments from classmates—and, Miss Fushimi suspected, from someone else as well.

Of course, Chihiro stayed on top of her studies, but Miss Fushimi noticed she was glued to her phone more often, glancing down at the screen with a strange, secretive smile.

One evening, as Miss Fushimi returned from work, she saw Chihiro pacing the living room, giggling quietly, her thumbs flying over her phone's keypad. Her daughter's usual calm was gone, replaced by a breathless energy that made Miss Fushimi's suspicions flare.

"Chihiro," she called out gently and watched with hidden amusement as her daughter spun around with the startled expression of a thief caught mid-heist, cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

"M-Mom! I…I didn't hear you come in," Chihiro stammered, her hand hovering protectively over her phone. "Umm, welcome home."

Miss Fushimi cracked a smile. "I finished work early and thought we could have dinner together. But it looks like you're… preoccupied."

Chihiro's eyes darted everywhere but at her mother. "No, no! I was just, um… texting a friend. You know, school stuff."

"School stuff," Miss Fushimi echoed, her gaze sliding over Chihiro's outfit. A cute, flowy dress paired with carefully chosen accessories—not her usual school attire. "And the dress?"

Chihiro tugged at the hem, her blush deepening. "Oh! I, um… I was just…"

Miss Fushimi tilted her head. "You've been going out a lot more, too. Not that I mind, but it's different from the quiet Chihiro I know."

Chihiro shifted on her feet, struggling to find an answer.

"Why are you sweating so much? And why do you look so nervous? And…"

Her mother's smile widened as the pieces fell into place. How had she missed the signs? The blushing, stammering, dressing up, and being glued to her phone… There was no mistaking it

There was a knowing spark in her eye.

"Wh-What's that look for?" Chihiro questioned.

Her mom folded her arms, still grinning.

"I-I don't know what you're th-thinking, but… L-Listen to me, mom! There's nothing going on okay?"

"You're seeing someone, aren't you, sweetie?"

Chihiro's face turned the color of a cherry.

Miss Fushimi laughed softly, enjoying this rare glimpse of her daughter in a whole new light.

"Am I wrong?" she pressed gently.

Chihiro mumbled as she looked away. "N-No, ma'am. You're right. I'm…," she took in a steadying breath and, in a rush, let it all out. "I'm dating a second year at school!"

There it was—her confession, a single, bold step into the world of young love. Chihiro was no longer a little girl but a blossoming young lady taking her first steps into adulthood.

"I'm happy for you, Chihiro," her mother said, unpacking her belongings with a warm smile. "But are you ready to be in a relationship? I know how difficult it is—was to approach guys, and the whole thing with your father…" She paused to reassess herself.

Chihiro's eyes softened as she took in her mother's words. "I know, Mom. But, this guy makes me feel special. He helped me get over my fear. I can't wait for you to meet him."

Miss Fushimi's heart swelled, caught between motherly concern and pride. "Well, if he's as wonderful as you say, I'd love to see him. But remember, Chihiro, no matter how much your heart tells you to follow, keep your eyes open, too. Love is beautiful, but it's also a big responsibility."

Chihiro nodded, a hint of excitement lighting her eyes. "I will, Mom. Thank you."

A quiet reassurance lingered in the mother's eyes. "Then I'll be here, whenever you need advice… or just someone to listen. Now," her expression turned serious. "How far have you gone with this boy?"

The Treasurer's face returned to its scarlet sheen, and her voice shot up an octave. "MOM!"

"Answer the question, Chihiro. Are you doing something high school students have no business doing? Because I will get my slippers."

The mention of "the slipper" sent a visible shiver down Chihiro's spine. She knew the terrifying speed and precision with which it could be wielded. "We've only held hands!" she blurted, waving her hands in panic. "I swear, Mom! Maybe a hug or two, but nothing else!"

Miss Fushimi's lips curled into a sly smile. "Hmm, is that so? Your behavior lately says otherwise."

"It's the truth!" Chihiro insisted, wringing her hands nervously. "Makoto's really respectful. I wouldn't be with him if not."

Miss Fushimi studied her daughter's flustered expression for a long moment before finally relenting with a soft chuckle. "Alright, I believe you—for now. I'm glad you're taking things slow. But remember, Chihiro, you're only in your first year of high school. Dating should be low on your priority list. Your grades come first." Her voice resumed its more serious edge. "And under no circumstances is this boy allowed here when I'm not home. Am I clear?"

'Too late.' Chihiro thought, her mind flashing to a particularly daring evening when she'd invited Makoto over while her mom was at work. She swallowed hard, plastering on an awkward smile.

Miss Fushimi's gaze sharpened as she noticed the flicker of guilt pass across Chihiro's face. "Chihiro?"

"I'm still growing!" Chihiro blurted out, the words spilling from her mouth before she could stop them.

Silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain. Miss Fushimi blinked, her expression unreadable. Then her hand came down firmly on Chihiro's shoulder, her grip gentle but unyielding.

"Sit," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"M-Mom?"

"Sit."

Chihiro had never moved so fast in her life. She planted herself on the couch, her heart pounding in her chest as her mother sat across from her, folding her hands deliberately.

"We're going to have a talk," Miss Fushimi said, her voice calm but with a gravity that sent shivers down Chihiro's spine.

Chihiro could only nod, the weight of her mother's gaze pressing down on her like the judgment of Justice herself.

"Tell me more about this boy. What's his name again?"

The air was more tense than earlier, and Chihiro greatly wished she could take back her earlier words.

'Oh, why did I say that?'

"Makoto Yuki," she answered. "He's a member of the Student Council like myself. The president recruited him."

Miss Fushimi nodded, making mental notes as she learned more. "Student Council, hmm? Impressive. What about his grades? Is he keeping up with his studies? Because if he's a distraction, I'll have to meet him sooner rather than later."

"His grades are fine, Mom. He was at the top of his class on the last exam."

A nod of approval, Makoto was looking more favorable in the mother's eyes. "Top of his class. That's promising. So, he takes his academics seriously. That's good—it means he has a future ahead of him." Her gaze sharpened, cutting through the brief reprieve. "Now, back to you. What did you mean by 'you're still growing'?"

Chihiro froze, twisting the fabric of her skirt nervously. "He's… a quiet person, but he has this… presence," she began cautiously.

Miss Fushimi's eyebrow arched higher. "Presence? What does that even mean?"

Chihiro hesitated, her cheeks reddening. "He's… good-looking. Really good-looking. People notice him, okay? And girls…" Her voice trailed off before picking up again in a rush. "Girls are drawn to him. It's not his fault, but… yeah, he kind of has this magnetism."

Miss Fushimi leaned back, her arms crossing as a skeptical look settled on her face. "So, what you're telling me is, he's a playboy."

"No!" Chihiro shot to her feet, her voice sharp with indignation. "He's nothing like that!"

Her mother blinked at her daughter's sudden outburst, taken aback by the ferocity.

Chihiro took a breath, her fists clenched at her sides. "He's respectful. He's kind. He doesn't ask for attention—it just… happens. I didn't mean it like that!"

Miss Fushimi studied her daughter carefully, her expression softening just slightly. "Alright," she said, her tone gentler now. "If you say so. But if he's drawing that much attention, I'd imagine it's not easy for you."

Chihiro's shoulders slumped, and she sank back onto the couch. "It's not," she admitted, her voice smaller. "He lives at the dorms near the strip mall, and some of his dormmates are really popular. Like, the Student Council President—she's gorgeous and accomplished, Mom. I can't compete with someone like her. Then there's Yukari Takeba, the most popular second-year at school. They're both so beautiful and confident, and I'm just…" Her voice broke slightly. "I'm just plain."

Miss Fushimi frowned, the edges of her motherly concern deepening. "Plain? Sweetheart, you—"

"I begged him to stay."

The words came out in a rush, as if Chihiro had been holding them in for far too long. She turned her face away, unable to meet her mother's eyes.

"You were working late one night, so I invited him over. We didn't do anything inappropriate. We mainly talked about books and cuddled on the couch. He did warn me to lock the doors, but I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him to stay longer because… because I'm so scared he'll realize he could do better. That he'll look at them and…"

She trailed off, her hands trembling slightly in her lap.

Miss Fushimi felt a pang in her chest as she looked at her daughter—so strong in many ways, yet so fragile in others. She rose from her seat, crossing the room to sit beside her. Without a word, she hugged her daughter and caressed the back of her head.

"Listen to me, sweetie," she whispered. "You are not plain. You're not 'less than.' You're intelligent, kind, and capable of so much more than you realize. If he can't see that, he doesn't deserve a second of your time."

Chihiro glanced up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But he does see it, Mom. That's what scares me. What if I mess it up?"

Miss Fushimi sighed, brushing a strand of hair from Chihiro's face. "Relationships aren't about perfection, Chihiro. They're about understanding, effort, and respect—on both sides." She paused, her gaze softening as she thought of her own past. "Take your father and me. He had his flaws—his temper, especially—but you know how deeply he loved us. You remember how, no matter how angry he got, he'd still go out of his way to bring home your favorite sweets or stay up late to help you with your projects."

Chihiro nodded, the memory of her father's clumsy yet endearing gestures tugging at her heart.

Miss Fushimi smiled faintly. "Even now, you'll always be his baby girl, no matter where he is. Love isn't about never making mistakes—it's about choosing to stay, to try, and to grow together. If Makoto's truly the person you believe he is, then he'll stay by your side because he wants to, not because you begged him to."

Chihiro nodded slowly, her mother's words sinking in.

"And if he doesn't," Miss Fushimi added, her tone lightening, "well, I've got a slipper and a few choice words for him."

Despite herself, Chihiro let out a small laugh, her tension easing just a bit. "Thanks, Mom."

Miss Fushimi tilted her forehead against her daughter's, her tone turning mock-serious. "Always, sweetie. But mark my words—if I ever find out you snuck him in here again without my permission…"

Chihiro tensed, her cheeks blazing.

"…I will punish you both. Understood?"

Chihiro squeaked. "Y-Yes, ma'am!"

Miss Fushimi leaned back, crossing her arms with a triumphant smile. "Good. Now go wash up—it's your turn to set the table. And don't think you can charm your way out of it this time."

As Chihiro scampered off, muttering under her breath, Miss Fushimi chuckled, her heart swelling with affection. 'I love being a mother.'

Next time, the Hermit Arcana.