He was adamant to make the most of Sunday.

He woke up in the morning, eyes flicking towards the clock and forcing himself up hurriedly, showering, shaving and changing in a demented blur, busier than on most weekday mornings. Forgetting breakfast, gulping a quick morning coffee, he flew out the door into his car.

In retrospect those vital seconds may not have mattered in the end. The traffic was much heavier than he'd expected, his ex-wife in the mood to pick a fight. He'd bundled the two children into the car, conscious of the passing minutes that made up hours.

Clutching their small hands, Kurogane took them through the park, frazzled and hectic lifestyle slowly receding into a muted background. He had one day per week to enjoy fatherhood, the rest he spent on a busy schedule, living alone in an apartment about a thirty five minute drive from his previous home. So when Sunday came, time suddenly became a more pressing matter than usual. The hours would whittle away into dust, held tightly in his clenched fist, still escaping to the wind through thick and persistent fingers. He watched his children on the roundabout from a bench.

Where time had gone, where his life had decided to slip and turn, he had no idea now – all he knew is that he had to be grateful for these precious little hours with them. When he could, he would buy them treats. Being strong, he'd push roundabouts and swings, something daddy was best at. He'd watch over them with a parental and loving eye, taking care, showering them with his dulled and blunted affections, never an emotional type of person to begin with. He did his utmost to be a father to them. Although even in these small, personal moments he felt his situation pressing into him and influencing his actions. Not a single scraped knee would be taken home nor a tear shed. That was the extent of the pressure he was under.

He'd divorced from his wife of five years for the simple reason that they weren't getting on as well as they used to. It was true, they'd been in love to begin with, but those were simple times when one didn't share the other's burdens or expect much out of their partner. The years passing by, the demands of their work and their children increasing, digging in and creating tension, it had become difficult to find that same carefree love that they'd shared in the past in their everyday life together. The biggest problem, however, was their personalities. The opportunity to compromise had slipped completely out of their grasp, lost to a joint and equal stubborn nature. Under those sorts of tensions, two quick-tempers could easily lose scope. Even worse, as they began to lose patience, their words had to be shut tight and contained in front of their two young children. That way everything built up inside them, burning inside over hours before letting off steam, arguments turning into almighty clashes.

In the end she'd taken the children and driven off to stay at her sister's for a few days, leaving Kurogane behind in an empty, wrecked shell of a home, a deepening realisation burrowing into him furiously that she had struck the first blow, that she'd moved quicker than he'd expected to give herself the advantage. After that everything came to work against him. She'd been the one to kick him out, to assert a more dominant right to look after their children and attempted to cut him from their lives as much as she could stand while still remaining human.

It made Kurogane wonder why he'd ever married the bitch in the first place.

He still had a fight to pick with her. There was no way in hell he'd let her mess him about like this and sit by idly. As much as he hated the thought of putting his kids through this shit at an age so young, he refused to let them be taken out of his life. He refused to watch as they were taken away from him, willing to do anything to remain a part of their lives.

He found himself buying ice cream and balloons within a battle for child custody.

And it nearly all slipped out his grasp when his daughter let go of her balloon.

***

Opportunities don't come falling out the sky, do they?

Standing there, waiting for a light to change, a growing bubble of fear inside, a steady realisation washed over him. It had been a bit of a naïve preconception. A breath of fresh air, a new scene had been all he'd wanted – not this. As it turned out, his ambitions had made a walking ruin out of him and walk was all he could do immersed in a new world, a sea of unknown. There were few signs he could read, no-one to communicate with; he'd turn a corner and face the same view as ever: a totally empty world brimming with life, crammed with metal, set in concrete, crawling with cars. He felt like a piece of driftwood bobbing afloat a vast ocean, devoid of knowledge or control and praying some coastline would come his lucky way.

He sighed. Escaping one mess to voluntarily encounter a worse one. The irony was killing him.

He was hungry and tired and illogical; his feet hurt, the drumming whisper slowly embedding, hammering itself into his consciousness – I want to go home.

Grazing against self-pity, he glanced up to a darkening sky, beginning to overbear, watching a balloon drift silently by. Japan was meant to be more than this, right?

And opportunities don't come swooping down divinely to smack the misfortunate in the face.

In the eventuality, she bumped into him from behind.

He jumped, surprised and turned around, automatically and instinctively grabbing the small girl's shoulders. Halting her in her tracks, he glances down in confusion, then upwards as his hair swings, brushing his forehead, blowing and billowing as a bus sweeps by at speed. He sighed a breath of relief as he looked down on her, feeling somehow awkward and inappropriate as he clung on to her, scared to let go lest she made a dive for the road again.

The girl merely stared up to him, uncertain and scared, then averted her attention to the clouding sky.

A balloon floated lazily by.

Ah.

He heard a sharp call, an aggravated and anxious yell. "Mio!"

The girl yanked herself free, wriggling loose from his hands, running towards this man, her father, crying, "Oto-saaaaaaaaan!" And Fye couldn't help but smile at the reunion – the man, heavily-set, broad and uncompromising, tagging along his young son, embracing his little girl, caught between relief and anger, frowning as she pointed innocently and sweetly towards her lost balloon, tugging at his shirt, oblivious to the danger it had put her in.

Detached now that his small role had been played, Fye smiled fondly. Until the father turned to him.

The light changed to green.

***

An arm around Mio, he said to the stranger, "Arigato." Mostly out of gratitude, merely glad she was safe.

He raised his eyes and suddenly faced two blue eyes, open wide in bemusement, but a kind face, a delicately polite smile gracing the surface, not sure how to respond but understanding his meaning and intention.

Kurogane frowned, starting again, this time in English. "Thank you."

The man before him, young and blonde, blinked for a moment, forehead creasing in slight confusion before raising his eyebrows in realisation, clearing away the accent. "You're welcome." He grinned amiably, a touch beyond what may have been called for.

Kurogane's brow furrowed, taking in a strange accent, but he soon decided to forget, ignoring it and about to move on before he heard that voice again.

The accent clouded his words slightly, throwing Kurogane off, yet all the same the young man before him spoke with clarity and intention. "Can you help me? I've not met anyone who can speak English today."

He stopped in his tracks, still holding on to his son and his daughter, turning to face this foreign man as if he were causing offence. An intrusion of precious time.

The man stared back, pensive and decisive, lips folded tightly, transforming into an opulent smile, his brow lightly narrowing and hands clutching at his rucksack. "Is there somewhere nearby where I can stay?"

Kurogane glanced over him critically, expression pressed into scepticism and then thought. When placed on the spot, a simple idea threw up a lot of troubling complications he'd never noticed before and he wasn't quite sure how to respond. A tiny hand pulling at his sleeve, a high voice inquiring, he's broken from his empty thoughts, directing himself to something more important and abandoning his attempts to procure an idea. There weren't many places he could think of but that wasn't the problem.

Suddenly, desperately, he lifted his watch to glance at the time, swallowing a swear as he registered the digital digits flashing agitatedly before him. He looked up again to the man waiting patiently for an answer, although looking slightly dubious, fearing there'd be no response.

"You can meet me at the shop beside the train station in one hour," Kurogane retorted in a rush, snapping almost, more resentful than kind. "I'll help you then. If you're not there then I leave."

Firmly, unshakable, he swung his daughter into his arms, took his son's hand and, without room for another word, walked away, leaving the younger foreign man standing by the crossing, confused, unsteady, uncertain…

Lifting Mio up with ease, bouncing her on his shoulders, his stone heart softens at the sound of her carefree laughter, clutching her as he takes Usui's hand. His son grew more like him with each day floating languidly by, brushing by Kurogane without a word of its passing, only glimpsing a fleeting image.

He was grateful to have them there no matter for how long, although this almost sorry acceptance sickened him, embittered him into resentment.

The clouds swallowed the sun, devouring the remains of an azure sky, and the wind began to bustle the leaves impatiently. Feeling both baseless joy and a sharpened, half-covered fury digging into his chest, he took them back to his car.

No doubt she would be standing by the door with a timer.

***

The lights changed back to red again but Fye wasn't completely sure if he wanted to cross or not anymore. He'd taken his chance but had no idea where it was going to spit him back out. Into danger? Out of danger?

Don't speak to strangers, they say, and especially not rather big and harassed ones with time to juggle. Makes sense - common sense in fact. But now he stood there, slightly confused, unable to decide where to go next. A gamble with a stranger and he'd become more lost than before.

And where's that train station…?

"Wie gewöhnlich," he muttered, acutely aware of an oncoming predicament and taking a step forward into the wind.

As per usual.


a/n: This is a really strange fic for me to write. I had to pretty much invent a style and wasn't too sure about it for a while. Well I hope you enjoyed the first proper chapter and look forward to seeing how this all pans out!