It was a year after Seimei became her friend when Mikado met him.
The subways thundered by on their tracks, sound waves tinged with electricity and steel and the screeches of wheels rebounded off tiled ceilings and floors, churning and punctuating the echoing commuter chatter. There were more people than usual bustling about the station today, clad in coats and scarves with wispy, pale clouds of steam billowing from their mouths. It was November 7th, the first day of winter.
Mikado flipped a loosening end of her scarf over a shoulder and clicked her cellphone shut with a mittened hand. She had woken up today to find a text waiting for her on its screen; a text from Seimei. The Aoyagi was characteristically quiet and reserved, but the message he sent was more vague than she was used to from him. Our usual place at 10:30, it said. There's someone I want you to meet.
"Our usual place" referred to the subway station, that she understood. Whenever they scheduled to see each other outside Seven Voices, they always first met up at the station a few blocks away from her home. Unlike Mikado, Seimei was old enough to use the subway by himself, so he was the one of the two that actually had to travel to get there.
But...who was this person Seimei wanted her to meet? She and Seimei had become very close over the past months, but she rarely ever heard him mention any of his personal relations. He brought up his younger brother once or twice, but she knew the boy (Ritsuka?) wasn't enrolled in their school, so what would be the point in Seimei wanting him to see her? Still, it was the only person she could think of, unlikely as it was, and she decided not to ponder the matter anymore. It was an aimless train of thought, and aimless equates to useless.
Mikado surveyed the terminal, regretting her lesser height as she went went up onto her toes for an added inch. It was in moments like these that she wished she'd brought Tokino along; someone as imposing as her Fighter would have cut through the crowd with ease.
However, she tended to avoid bringing Tokino when she was with Seimei. She loved her Fighter, she trusted him, but, Mikado knew he wouldn't understand the complete familiarity in which Seimei and herself regarded each other with. He wouldn't understand all of the little significant nuances that colored and strengthened her relationship with the older Sacrifice. They would have been lost on him; a third wheel. It didn't help that she could tell that Tokino wasn't very fond of Seimei. Even though he didn't say as much, it was apparent in the slight clouding and narrowing of his eyes whenever she mentioned him in his company.
The young girl supposed she didn't mind being without him very much though. Initially, the day when she realized she considered her time spent with Seimei was...special, surprised her. But now, there was no denying to herself that being around him was a reprieve. She could be at ease with Seimei, while there was always, at least slightly, the instinct to mask and withhold her true feelings around her own Fighter. Strange how that works out.
The crowd blocking the way in front of her began to feather out, and Mikado seized the opportunity to quicken her strides forward. Now closer to the tracks, her eyes scanned the clearing area around her again, when she spotted a familiar figure not too far away from her.
Seimei was standing by a wide, granite pillar, his back to her, and as she neared closer his right ear perked up slightly and he turned around— back straight, back poised. As always, unaffected by the clamor and busyness around him.
Smiling in that gentle way of his, Seimei raised his hand to greet her. "Good morning."
"Morning." She responded on reflex, before letting her gaze stray, inquisitively turning her face slightly to the side. Seimei's eyebrow arched, waiting in silence.
"Your text..." The girl trailed off, her meaning quite clear in itself, when her eyes registered a slight movement behind him in and of the shadows.
A pale figure closer to the tracks was looking off at a subway careening past. Wind deflected off the metal of its sides and caused the stranger's long, dark hair to fly about. The quick motion of it must have been what had caught her eye in the first place.
Seimei must have been speaking to him when he had been turned around, but the thundering sounds of the subway had obscured their conversation from her ears— and prevented her knowing of his presence beforehand.
Him, his...well that was only a guess. The height and neutral attire certainly pointed towards male, but the stranger was rather androgynous. She really had no clue.
Seimei saw what had taken up the younger Sacrifice's attention, and he answered her without further prompting.
"This is Akame Nisei-kun."
She looked from Seimei to the other man, only to find him drawing forward to stand by Seimei's side. He was still very tall, but he didn't quite match up to Seimei's towering one hundred and eighty centimeters, which was bound to rise even more in the coming years.
"Nice to meet you." The man piped up with a friendly smile. His voice was young, she recognized, but still distinctly male.
"Hello."
A sort of vague excitement hummed inside her chest. Considering how Seimei was the only person in the world who was like her, the only person who could understand her and be her perfect confidante, naturally anyone else he chose to associate with piqued Mikado's interest. Such a person was someone she expected to connect with and appreciate instantaneously.
She waited for him to converse directly with her, to attempt to familiarize himself with her like she so anticipated but—
He didn't speak again.
But before she could dwell on it too long, Seimei began talking, and she was forced to redirect her attention to him instead. The eared man asked her how she was doing, asked what they should do with the rest of their day out, and any unease she had experienced before quickly dissipated. The young man at his side only glanced absently at the other people in the terminal.
After she and Seimei had agreed on their itinerary for the day, a picnic at the park, Mikado shot a pointed look at Akame.
"Are you coming with us?" Perhaps he'd actually open his mouth this time.
But, Seimei interrupted again and spoke for the other's behalf. "I'm afraid not. Nisei has some other engagements to attend to today, right?" Her eyes bored into the strange man again, who simply nodded in reply. Face set and friendly. Always friendly; it was annoying.
Mikado knew a leading question when she heard one, and it confused her that Seimei had spoken to his friend this way. They gave the aura of being equals from what she could gather at this first meeting, yet...there was certainly something off in their dynamic. She couldn't help but feel a bit offended that Seimei was acting as if she wouldn't notice— and the Aoyagi was too intimated with her to have such an assumption.
Akame-kun didn't stall or stand around any longer, and his neck bent in a casual bow. "I enjoyed meeting you, Gomon-san. Goodbye—"
And he left.
It was just as bitingly cold when the remaining two departed from the terminal and back onto the sidewalk, sky a pale, wan blue overhead. They kept close to each other, arm to arm in an attempt to conserve heat, and Mikado's petite shadow was swallowed up by her taller companion's. Their heads lowered so as to tuck their noses against their thick scarves.
The park was, fortunately, not too far away, and the sound of pavement under their brisk steps soon gave way to cobblestone and grass. The younger Sacrifice let her gaze wander over the vacant benches and the fountain, and she felt herself already relaxing at the stark contrast of the peaceful silence here and the near-deafening buzz of the subway. She could sense the barely perceptible hitch in Seimei's shoulders smooth out in unison with her own.
He steered them over to a large tree that was skeletally clinging to the last of its amber leaves, setting down his messenger bag on the bench underneath it so he could retrieve his wallet. Mikado took it for herself to sit first, while Seimei gestured with a tilt of his head over to a concession stand and went over to purchase their lunch. Her legs dangled an inch from the ground as she watched her friend scan the scarce menu taped crookedly to the outside of the stand. There was only a father in front of him, holding the tiny hand of his toddler daughter while he received his order. They hardly constituted a line. Though it looked as if she'd have minute or two for reflection.
She was loathe to admit it, but Akame's aloofness at the station had aggravated her. Any thought of it being her own fault was automatically swatted away— she barely spoke to the man after all.
Intuitively, she felt as if it had been a bad first impression, but there had been barely any interaction between them to make an impression at all.
Why was she even overanalyzing...it wasn't her fault. Maybe he was silent because of her age, or to be polite. She quickly shoved the nonsense out of her head. Her situation at home had taken a turn for the worse, and the consequent lack of sleep had made her more irritable. Even Tokino had noticed, suffocating her with gifts that she didn't need in an attempt to distract and compensate. It would have been endearing if her nerves weren't so frayed from her parents' frequent yelling at herself and each other. Frayed from the implementation of an even stricter schedule and tedious lessons, that, between attending class at the Academy and to her duties for Septimal Moon, consumed nearly all her free time. She had been so over-stressed lately that being able to leave the house, at her own pace and not under the stern timetable of her family's chauffeur, to do what she liked for once, was something Mikado hadn't realized she'd been yearning for.
When she looked up in time to see Seimei on his way back with lidded styrofoam cups and treats for the both of them, the tick in her jaw relented. The young man sat down on his side of the bench, leaning his back serenely against the wood, and handed her a cup and something packaged in thin factory plastic. It crinkled in her mittened hand, blazoned across the front with bright, stylized kanji.
"Hot chocolate and sandwiches," he supplied as he put his drink down onto the ground and pulled the wrapper's seam open between gloved fingers.
The pink-haired girl favored to take a test sip from the warm beverage instead, closing her eyes momentarily at the flavor. And opening again to find Seimei wearing a familiar expression— hands clasped in front of him and eyes fixed forward almost unseeingly. What would come out of his mouth wouldn't be as inane as the rest of their conversations today, and she could tell that he was thinking of how to phrase it.
One, two...seven seconds pass. He parts his lips.
"Nisei is my Fighter. My true one."
Oh.
"Ah." She couldn't deny that it made sense. She knew that Agatsuma had been a blank, nearly everyone did, but they had all assumed that Seimei's real Fighter had died before they could meet. That's why you bonded with blanks, because you were alone.
Some of the younger students used to whisper to themselves when they caught sight of the Aoyagi exiting a council meeting.
Aoyagi-san must be so sad.
Aoyagi-san is so strong.
"Who else knows?"
"Minami and Sagan-sensei. I told them on Monday, but that's basically all they know. They haven't met him yet, Mikado. You're the first."
She didn't know how to reply to that. Two Fighters at the same time was forbidden, wasn't it? It went without saying that even having a second Fighter after the first died wasn't looked upon that favorably, but having both still alive would be—…difficult. She remembered, fuzzily, the sullen outline of Ritsu's face when he gave Soubi away.
Now she knew why the man had been in a mysteriously rotten mood all week.
But, Seimei had a reason for doing this; and since he did, she could understand him. He didn't have to explain his decision to her, she already knew all the ways in which having two Fighters would prove to be advantageous for him, and Seimei was always one to take precautions.
"What did you think of him?" She eyed Seimei, and there was a good chance that his apathetic tone was feigned.
"I don't have much of an impression of him. He didn't speak."
"He was feeling under the weather," is automatic.
"Hm." She'd give him the benefit of the doubt.
Seimei tilted his head back towards the young girl again, a chiding slant to his growing smile. Mikado supposed she could give his inquiry more thought; she could work off of nonverbal cues well enough.
He and Seimei looked uncannily similar— a reflection warped enough to be asymmetric by the glass— more so than any of the fighting pairs she knew of. Both were tall, with a thinness that painted the impression of fragility. Both had the same gestures, the same dignified easiness to how they carried themselves. Both of them had the same smile.
Even his face when he greeted her echoed the memory of her and Seimei's first meeting.
The reason why he had offended her, though the man had said barely a word, was because...she could feel that their essence was more or less the same? Not being acknowledged by Nisei felt synonymous with not being acknowledged by Seimei.
"He suits you," she finally says, and a reticent hum comes off of her companion's lips. It was quiet for a moment. An easy, restful quiet.
They both finished their drinks and sandwiches, and Seimei got up to toss the cups and wrappings away. Mikado curled up the slightest bit into herself from the absence of her friend's heat at her side. Seimei's quick to return a few seconds later, and he reaches out and sifts through the girl's pigtail with his fingers, dislodging a white crumb from the light strands.
She nods in wordless thanks.
"So, I've been waiting to see those pictures from your ikebana class you promised me," he begins, voice lilting off playfully at the end, and Mikado's ears immediately perk up. Seimei laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corners, and it used to awe her at one point that someone likehim never failed to be so genuinely interested in even the most inane things she did.
He made to reach for her bag himself and she swatted his hand, brandishing the camera away from him. And he growls and makes a fuss and she sticks her tongue out at him in a rare show of petulance.
Seimei scoffed and reached past her, swiping the camera out of her hands.
"Got it!"
After that first, transient meeting, Nisei vanished for over a month. Seimei never mentioned him again, and Mikado never brought him up. Everything was back to normal; Mikado continued going to her regular classes, as well as the ones at Seven Voices, and she continued attending her council meetings.
Though at this particular meeting, someone was missing. Something that rarely, if ever, happened.
No one was in the Aoyagi seat.
After she heard Ritsu's 'Meeting adjourned!', Mikado called Seimei's cellphone. It went straight to voicemail.
She asked Chouma what she knew of Seimei's absence, grasping at one of the few straws available to her. And to no avail either.
The Moonless Sacrifice went to ask Kunugi-san the next day when Seimei still hadn't shown up or answered his phone. Mikado didn't get any sort of helpful reply. Mikado didn't ask Ritsu or Nagisa because she doubted they'd know anything that she didn't. Out of the entire council, those two knew the least of Seimei's personal life. Deliberately so.
And as day after day passed, the chair across from her at the conference table remained vacant. And even though this was highly irregular, and possibly even against council rules, the girl felt as if she was the only one truly bothered by it. Her wide eyes were the only pair that seemed to linger on the emptiness of Seimei's seat. Her shoulder blades seemed to be the only ones that prickled sorely with loneliness in the dining hall.
She hadn't realized how much of a constant Seimei's presence had been at her side here, and admitting to herself that she missed him made her feel strangely weak. Not knowing where he was didn't help matters much either.
This continued for nearly two weeks— and after having had at least some form of contact from Seimei almost every day for months, the lack of communication between them for this long was nothing short of jarring.
But at the end of those nearly two weeks, at the very moment she climbed into her family's town car after another mind-numbing council meeting, and the chauffeur began to drive her drive home, a chiming sound wafted from her bag for the first time since Seimei disappeared.
New text message.
Mikado's hands were clutched around the plastic of her cellphone fast enough to catch the second reminder buzz. She checked the screen.
He's going to be waiting for you outside the park. That's all it said, and Mikado didn't recognize the number it was sent from. Which was actually a common occurrence considering that her contacts list was only three names long. Home, Tokino, and Seimei. She didn't add the Academy's number because the sheer amount of sevens in it prevented her from ever not being able to recognize it. She doesn't know who thought that it would be funny or a good idea, but their number has been the same as far back as she can remember.
The cityscape was increasing becoming more blotted with greenery and trees as it entered the more affluent district she lived in. The car was swiftly approaching the park, and Mikado softly cleared her throat to garner her driver's attention.
"Drop me off here, please. I'll be walking home."
There was a pause on the chauffeur's end, and the girl raised her eyebrows before continuing. "It's not as if I have a curfew. Just tell mother that I'm meeting Seimei-san at the park." Where Tokino was merely tolerated, her mother fawned over Seimei incessantly, so it shouldn't end up becoming an issue.
It at least seemed to be good enough an explanation for him, and the man smoothly pulled over to the curb.
She got out, clicking the car door shut behind her, and waited for him to drive away before she made her way to approach the wrought iron gate ahead. Or her friend that was leaning against it.
"I presume you received Nisei's text?"
She nodded, not bothering to ask Seimei where he's been or why he has been skipping out on meetings. As close as they were, Seimei wasn't fond of being asked questions; anything he was comfortable in sharing, he'd tell her at his own volition. That was the understanding that they had between them.
"Good. I wanted to see you here because I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition," she echoed back. There was a drop of blood on his coat. She already knew that it wasn't his own.
"Yes. The reason why I had Nisei text you today is because I just entered your number into his phone. He's been gone for a bit, but now that he's back I'd like to ask if you and your own Fighter would like to accompany us in a fight a couple days from now, and possibly others in the future. Are you interested?"
"Of course," she replied. Honestly, the prospect was actually exciting to her.
Her agreement got a smile from the older boy. "Great, we'll meet here. I have to start heading back to Seven Voices now— I think Ritsu is upset with me…"
"When isn't he upset with you?"
"You're right," Seimei laughed, and he gave Mikado a parting wave as he left.
He never did end up telling her where he had disappeared off to.
It was 10am and Mikado was still in bed, holding one hand to her burning forehead and the other was lifting up her cellphone in front of her face.
I can't make it. She sent the message, sneezing shortly afterwards, feeling tired and wretched and awful. It takes Seimei ten minutes to reply.
Why is that?
Sick. Even if I could get out of bed, my mother wouldn't let me.
Ah.
The girl stared balefully at her screen for a few minutes, something heavy settling inside her stomach.
She was conflicted on whether she should hit send for this next one.
Sorry.
Don't be ridiculous. Just concentrate on getting your rest, okay?
Okay.
No new messages after that, and her fatigue quickly caught up to her. Achy eyes closed and succumbed to sleep.
When Mikado wakes up again, she still feels weak, but at least her head isn't pounding. She curls herself up in a little ball, letting her downy comforter cocoon around her. Feels the diseased, trickling pain throb down from one shoulder to the other, and it goes down into her mattress.
Breathes. Inhales the calming scent of her pillow.
She doesn't remember why she woke up in the first place. Her mother is speaking in the hallway, living room, or kitchen, probably on the phone, and she hears footsteps. But, little else.
The pink kitten ear not smushed into her pillow flicks up— instinctually swerving towards her bedroom door. And not a second later, her mother's voice calls out to her.
"Mikado, there's someone here to see you!"
Hm? She rolled onto her back and lifted herself onto her elbows. The only one who ever visited her at her home was Tokino, but he'd be busy at school around this time of the day. Seimei came over for dinner exactly once, months ago, and he'd be at his classes too.
As soon as she tucked a mussed lock of hair away from her burning, sniffly face, the girl sat up in her bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in her pale nightdress. The floorboards out in the hall give a muted creak, alerting her to someone's presence, right before she hears a knock at her door.
"Come in." Her voice is thick with sleep and sick.
The knob turns, and the door opens wide into the room— guided by the side of someone's hip. As the person on the other side leaves the veil of hallway darkness and nears closer, she has to blink because it certainly was not who she had expected to see.
He's smiling the same way he smiled at her at the subway station, a long scarf draped around his neck and snowflakes still melting at his collar. He's carrying something in both of his hands that's wrapped inside a plastic bag.
Nisei catches her line of sight and briefly lifts the bundle in his arms. "Seimei told me you were sick, so I stopped by a restaurant and picked you up something."
She pauses. "Thank you." Mother probably already had food prepared for lunch, though, and Mikado was about to inform him of that, but...something stopped her and made the words in her throat recede back down again into a shallow cough.
"You like udon, right?"
"Udon's fine."
The dark-haired boy makes his way over to the chair by her bed, and he balances a knee on it as he reaches over to set down the bag on her nightstand. He pulls the gloves off of his hands and lets them dangle precariously from the edge of the smooth wood, before he pulls out a translucent container.
Her eyes immediately drift over his fingers as they set out a ceramic bowl and spoon taken from the kitchen. They focus in on one thing in particular— the sharp, black letters splayed along his right hand. She still can't believe it. Seeing him now that she knows, it makes her almost...shy. And how that realization of emotion discomforts her.
He straightens back up again and even the way he moves is so Seimei it nearly throws her off with how surreal the whole thing is.
Nisei looks like he's getting ready to leave, so soon, but she has questions and Mikado doesn't know when she'll be able to be alone with him again.
"Akame-san, don't you have school right now?"
His body angles away from the door; she's made him stay for a moment longer. "Not really," he shakes his head. "I have a free period right now, but I should be heading back soon."
She pushes. "Fighting school or regular school?"
"Regular. In spell casting I'm self-taught."
Before now, Mikado hadn't even known that that was an option. Every team she was aware of trained at Seven Voices. Two of them were evencreated there.
She wants to ask him something else, but her mind feel fuzzy and groggy and is pulling up blanks. She should be napping right now, not this.
He stands there for a couple more seconds, eyes wandering around her room, and lingers on the stuffed animal at the foot of her bed. Her stomach drops when she realizes what he's looking at, but he bends down to pick up the duck plushie and he puts it down on the bedding beside her.
The sudden pang of dislike she feels for him is inexplicable and immense. Then gone. And as the tremor leaves her, it's replaced with a microsm of change in the Fighter's expression. She vaguely considered his face to be appealing, but how unreadable it was rubbed her the wrong way.
"We understand, so just focus on getting better. There's going to be a next time, okay?" Just like the last message on her phone.
Mikado leans back into the pillows fanned out behind her, stoic even though she wants nothing more than to cough quite badly. "Mhm."
His words themselves don't make her feel any better about the situation. It's his concern. It's the fact that he just said something to her that wasn't essentially nothing that does.
And that's it. He just smiles, goodbyes, and walks to the door, then he quietly ducks into the hallway, the stark outline of him made blurry from her own exhaustion and utter malaise.
Finally able to relax and be alone, she unfetters the coughing fit that had been held at bay, and it sears her throat and leaves it scratchy and dry. Mikado reaches for the bowl of soup, suddenly rather grateful that Nisei brought it over.
And there's something near the half-full container on her nightstand that doesn't belong there. Nisei's gloves.
And at that moment, one of them finally falls off from the edge, slapping softly against the floor.
Mikado's health is eventually restored, and she's able to come the next time Seimei invites her to a fight. Tokino knows where to go, and he eventually stops the car outside of a forest at the outskirts of town. They travel the rest of the way on foot.
It's not long after they make it through the dense thicket of trees, when they spot Beloved standing together— Seimei telling his Fighter something she couldn't piece together. Nisei was smiling.
Two other pairs who neither she nor Tokino recognized were close by.
They catch up to Beloved and then exchange names with their opponents. Their battle systems expand, sending a crackle of pure energy through and around them in long, spidery shock waves. Beloved has the team to the left, and Moonless has the one to the right. The rest is a violent, thrumming blur.
Tokino sends word spells out faster than thought, utilizing their offense in the way they've practiced over and over again through routine and subroutine. Mikado is unflinching to the seldom few attacks that the enemy is able to muster in their defense.
Not many teams can hold up against their brute force, so it doesn't take especially long for them to cave under their magic. They've practically already won, so the pink-haired girl spares a look to the side and—
Sees Nisei suddenly sprayed in blood.
Sees him grinning and tilting his chin up and moving his lips to form words she can't hear. The man across from him contorts in ways that aren't possible, and his disfigured mouth is a gaping wound. Something's happening to him that she, outside of Nisei's sphere of influence, can't pick up, and this is all in a second.
The second passes, and her ears pop. And now she can hear the man's bones breaking, his screaming. The defeated Sacrifice is bound-up and immobile in the grass, tears streaming from behind her blindfold, and there's a deep, vertical gash over her spine that wells up blood through the tattered remains of her blouse. She'd be screaming too if not for the gag.
Then, the man's neck twists like a corkscrew, and he falls onto the ground next to the sobbing woman's shuddering form.
The sight of Nisei standing over the bodies is arresting. He looks alive and animated, eyes shining with the chaos they reveal. Seimei is a spectre sitting in the grass several feet behind, and there is not a mark nor strap on him.
Nisei's rapture finally subsides, and he turns back around towards his Sacrifice, and Mikado can hear his laughter and see Seimei give him an unaffected nod as Tokino draws up to her side.
She doesn't quite like Nisei after this, but she respects him.
He won't hold her back.
They pair up together for battles like that every week or so now. Nisei still hardly speaks to her, especially when Seimei's around— only polite niceties: clean-cut replies and clean-cut explanations. Nothing personal or specific enough to indicate what kind of person he was. Other than the violence he conducted himself with during fights.
That is, until after a particularly gruesome battle a month later, when Nisei approaches her for once not dripping in the enemy's blood, and out of all things, invites her out for coffee.
Mikado finds herself sitting across from him in a Starbucks she's never been inside of before. He gives off a contented sigh and shrugs off his jacket as he settles into an armchair, the drinks he ordered for them are laid steaming on the tabletop. Both were plain java. Black.
"You know, I'm not fond of coffee at all."
Nisei raises his brows in disbelief. "Now why is that?" The fact that he wasn't actively avoiding her and seemingly selectively mute now still took some getting used to.
"It's too bitter." The parfaits on display, on the other hand, looked perfectly edible.
He pushes the cup towards her, yellow eyes mirthful and gleaming. "You just have to let yourself get acclimated to it. I promise you that if you give it a chance, you'll like it." He pauses, unwinding into his chair. "It also helps with the crash after fights. It keeps you efficient."
Or he drinks it because he has a caffeine addiction, she wanted to add, noticing that he already downed his entirely already. But, she just picked up her cup and took a sip.
Ugh.
"Can't I have this with milk or sugar? This is vile."
He didn't laugh at her like she expected he would, only gave her an encouraging nod to continue.
Fine.
Though, the more she drank, the more it became marginally less horrible. So there was that.
Once Mikado finished off the last acrid drop of her coffee, mouth pressing together in a tight line, they had their first real conversation.
Nisei wasn't as energetic as he was on the field, but he engaged her. He listened to her, chin resting attentively in his hand, and understood what she told him. Not just the subject matter, but why she took her stances in those particular subjects. He was like Seimei, though he actually talked as much as he listened.
Mikado found herself making these "dates" with him a habit. When Tokino and Seimei would return to their homes after battles, Nisei would take her out for coffee.
And she liked, even sometimes looked forward to, her chats with him. Even though at times his voice would take on a certain quality that (made her skin crawl) unsettled her. Even though the seemingly innocent, easy way he justified himself was damning. How he could do things because of a whim and not a reason and just be so unbearingly nonchalant about it.
But...she could be a brat with him, she could throw make as many acidic comments as she wanted in his company, and he'd just take them all in stride, never failing to deliver his own witty repartee.
Like Seimei, he'd always treat and speak to her like an adult, but unlike him, he was a bit more...human. It was strange to parse it like that, since he was every bit as cruel and uncaring as she was.
And recently, Nisei would be there for the walks she used to share only with Seimei; she'd stroll through the park with them at each side of her. They'd laugh and Nisei would debate with her while Seimei listened and spoke up whenever he wanted to make a wise suggestion or steer their flow of chatter in a particular direction. And then it happened. It happened so slowly and subtly that she didn't even realize it.
For the first time in her life, Mikado didn't feel so alone anymore.
It was another Friday afternoon, and Mikado was at Starbucks with Nisei. Coffee was a treat now, no longer anywhere near as uninviting to her taste buds as they first were.
She's in the middle of recounting the last Septimal Moon meeting to him— Ritsu's icy tirades and Nagisa's presentation on her success with the Zero project— when Nisei's hand reaches out, unwarranted, and touches her hair.
She stops mid-sentence and immediately angles away, aiming a rather reproachful glare at him. It hardly had any effect.
"Your pigtail is coming undone," Nisei informs her. And just like that, he's sliding the elastic off, his other hand grasping the hair further up so the tugging doesn't hurt her.
He redoes the pigtail again, taking care to not disturb her too much, and makes sure that it's level with the other this time, as he works.
"You don't have to, I can manage fine myself," Mikado says, voice guarded instead of annoyed. She was used to being touched and fussed over by her Fighter; Nisei was always detached, sterile. She couldn't tell if her feelings of aversion came from the fact that he wasn't Tokino, or because he merely caught her off guard. Her veiled protest went unacknowledged.
"Mikado, You have beautiful hair." Beautiful. Tokino would have said cute. Or pretty. "It suits you."
As sincere he was, his compliments made her uncomfortable. It was like being sized up by your older brother. But, she supposed that he was looking after her, doting on her, like an older brother would, so she allowed it.
Though, she wouldn't know. Her real family never gave her as much attention as Nisei did.
"There. All done." His hands drew back again as he leans into his seat. He looked at it a moment longer, before recrossing his legs and picking up his coffee. How unassuming his expression was worked away at her unease a bit. "Never cut it. It's my second favorite thing about you." Mikado knew he was baiting her, but she decided to play along anyway.
She looked out the window in disinterest. "Hm? What's the first?"
"Your smile, of course." And Nisei took a sip from the warm container in his hand. The Sacrifice turned her face back and rose her brows, clearly not buying it. As if she couldn't see the wry curve of his mouth right then.
"You've only ever seen me smile at executions," she deadpanned, focusing her attention onto her own drink and picking it up.
He doesn't miss a beat. "Precisely. And what a sight to behold, mm?"
Mikado scoffed and shook her head before drinking from the beverage in her hand. Nisei could really be ridiculous sometimes.
"And now I know what your real smile looks like."
And sure enough…she was.