On the third day of the week, Kariya had adamantly refused to get out of bed and Uzuki was forced to pick the lock. Luckily, his apartment was crappy as well as a pig-sty, so it was not hard to do so.

"Kariya! You lazy butt!" she screeched upon slamming his bedroom door open.

He met her cries with a pillow in the face.

Stunned, she let it drop as he buried himself under the covers, thin hands grasping at his pillow and sheets to keep it over his head. "I'm not in the mood, Uzuki," he meant to say, but it was completely unintelligible through the pillow over his mouth.

She tugged at the covers, jerking them off his back. "Why do you sleep with so many layers?" she began as he twisted and ripped the sheets out of her grip and pulled it over his sharp shoulders again.

"It's friggin' early, Yashiro. Get out of my room."

She was shocked by the amount of antagonism in his voice. She had never gotten anything like this mood out of him, and he had never called her by her last time since she could remember. As far as she was concerned, he didn't have any buttons to push that got him that way.

Responding with anger, she shoved his second pillow over his head. "What's with you? It's only five!"

He batted it away, but she caught his wrist. It was thin and bony under her grip, and unusually hot.

Kariya didn't even answer or fight her grip, but groaned as if he were dying into his pillow.

"Oh please," Uzuki said. "It's the third day, and as far as I know, you're heavily addicted to sugar–"

"No. Really?"

"–and the third day is always hardest, so I thought it would be a treat to see the sunrise."

"Sappy."

"Shut up! Do you want to see it or not?"

"No. I want to sleep."

She punched him hard, but apparently hardly punched him, because he didn't respond. "Kariya! Please! I got up even earlier for this!"

When he didn't answer, she thought she'd lost, but then he said, as if completely defeated, "Make me some coffee."

"I'm not your maid!" she cried, even as she left the room to get a mug ready.

For a moment, he lay very still, sheets heavy and sticky against his back. He then propped his arms under him, kicking away the sheets and stepping out of his bed.

"Do you want some crea– what the Hell, Kariya!"

"Uzuki! Shut the damn door!" he yelled, yanking the sheets to hide himself.

She shut it so quickly, it had been no use even trying.

There was silence for a moment before she said through the door, "Apparently, sleeping naked is good for you."

"I. Am. Dead, Uzuki," he said loudly back at her.

"Then why do you do it?"

"Because I want to. Now leave me alone," he responded, yanking on some boxers and pants before sitting down and dragging his hands over his face and calming his heart. He pulled at his hair, then shrugged on a tee, sure that she had left until she spoke again.

"So… Cream or no?"

He pulled open the door, a long-suffering expression plastered on his face. "I don't have any cream."

She lifted her chin and snapped, "You do now." after she got over the surprise that he appeared astonishingly normal. Gray shirt, old beat up jeans, hair shoved out of the way and acting like it actually applied to the laws of gravity…

He raised his eyebrows, and then she asked, "You don't go commando, do you?"

Flushing a little and looking a little peeved, he said, "No." and moved past her.

"How do I know you're not lying?"

He looked back at her as he pulled the fresh coffee out of the maker and blindly fished for the new cream in his mini-fridge. "You are questioning my credibility a lot lately."

"It's about time I did," she huffed.

He poured nearly half a cup in his coffee, then leaned against the counter, and she was on top of the counter, and it was much the same image as the morning a day previously except for the fact that Kariya looked twice as tired, was mildly accepting of his coffee, and yet slightly frustrated as well.

"So?" She leaned toward him, watching him with alert eyes.

"I never lie to you, Uzuki." His eyes were very serious. Very tired, but serious. And then he pushed off the counter, swallowing the last of coffee and dumping the cup into the sink. "Where are we going?"

"The top of ten-four."

He raised an eyebrow as he clambered over the stacks of CDs, dirty laundry, papers, and discarded miscellany to get to his shoes. "Isn't the sun gonna come up soon?"

"It's not my fault you were slow getting up!" she said petulantly.

He rubbed his temple, fighting off a headache. He found it unfair that one could be in pain when they were dead of all things. "Can't we just watch it from the top of this building?"

She sniffed. "Your building's vertically challenged. We'd be lucky to catch a good glimpse."

"So're you, but I don't take you out of the picture, do I?" he muttered, unfortunately not quietly enough.

"Excuse me? I am not vertically challenged!"

"Then your claim that this building is is flawed in every possible way. If you aren't able to compare vertically challenged from not by reflecting on yourself, you are unfit to pass judgement," he countered evenly.

"That's bull," she shot back.

He laughed, opening the door and hustling her out and locking it behind them. Perhaps the knowledge that she could pick the lock whenever she wanted should have worried him, but somehow, he got himself to forget it. What was the worst she could do? Steal his cereal?

As if she had been thinking about it very seriously, she said, "You know what I think is a very interesting game? Strip poker."

He looked at her sharply. "You're kidding me."

She smiled. "Maybe a little."

His eyes widened uncomfortably and moved on to other things. He couldn't help it, however, when he said, "Honestly, I don't think it would be fair for you. You've got barely anything."

Her eyes brightened. "Nonsense! I could take anything off! I've got at least eight losses and I'm out, but you…" she grinned. "You've got two plus your shoes."

Flushing, he turned to her, almost tripping on the stairs as he flung out a finger, pointing at her critically. "I– am– wearing– my– underwear. Got that? Besides, on any normal day, I'd at least get an even six."

She peered at him thoughtfully. "Five."

"Uzuki!"

"Okay… okay… Five."

Before he opened the door out, he slammed his forehead against the wood, scowling. "Six."

"Five."

"SIX!"

She giggled.


The streets were pale and dark and the air was cold when they ended up on the roof of 104. Uzuki held her hands to her hair to keep it from her eyes, but Kariya let his tangle. It was still a little odd to see him without his sunglasses.

He had simmered down and let her berate him endlessly on their way over, keeping silent and staring ahead. Cold ripples of the breeze pushed at his shirt as he settled down at the very edge of the building, looking to the East.

She sat beside him and said, "I'm sorry this is hard for you."

"What?" he looked at her in the eyes– the first time in what had felt like forever for her.

"It's not like you would admit it or anything, but this can't be fun for you," she expressed, setting her hands on her lap and fiddling with her thumbs.

He couldn't get himself to answer, the words caught in his throat. He glanced at the horizon and nudged her side.

She looked up and they gazed at the slow light coming over the tops of the building, fractures with their sharp edges. The light was bright and white, the tips of the building red and orange, the clouds like blushing, rippled smoke.

"Sappy," Kariya muttered quietly.

Uzuki shook her head, pink hair fighting against the wind. "Stunning."

"I've seen prettier things," Kariya said, still quiet, shoulders slumped, eyes on the horizon.

"I haven't," said Uzuki. "I was a country girl before Shibuya. I loved sunrises because no matter what, they were always beautiful."

He turned to stare at her, amazed. He hadn't heard her share since her first few weeks, but he had been careful to never tell her anything himself. "I forget how young you are sometimes."

She snorted. "How can that be? You're always reminding me."

Her memories must have been so vivid. His, on the other hand, were nothing more than dust. He pulled a hand through his hair, suddenly and brutally depressed by what little had come back to him. He dragged himself out of the thoughts and sat up a little, but she had caught him staring at her too long when he wasn't even aware that he had been.

"What?"

He said the first thing that popped into his head. "I always wonder what you put all your money to, but I'm starting to think it's your hair."

Her face turned upward in a livid display of superiority. "And your hair?"

"Natural orange-head."

The snort she made sounded like it hurt. "And you say you never lie to me."

Smiling, he digressed. "Okay. Strawberry blonde here."

It was her turn to stare. "No."

"Yup."

"So you do dye it?"

His smile grew wide. "As unmanly as it sounds, I really do."

"But you never–"

"I do it myself, Uzuki."

She reached a hand out to pull back his hair, gazing at the roots. "I can hardly tell."

He shrugged. "Ask any of the other old biddies here. I started doing it about half a decade before you showed up."

The sun had left the colors and was washing the sky a clear blue.

"Was that when you became a Reaper?"

His laugh was enough of an answer. "No way! That was just when I finally settled into my own style."

Eyes narrowing, she leaned away. "Just how old are you?"

"Age doesn't matter when your dead."

"You would think so."

"I know so. How much of a difference would it make if I told you I was alive when Shibuya was new, or just barely a decade older than you? It doesn't." He said gently.

Wind still tugging at her hair and playing with the frills on her shirt, she crossed her elbows and splayed her fingers over her knees. "What age are you suspended at, then?"

His gaze turned sharp and impatient. "It doesn't matter, Uzuki."

"Then why not tell me?" she protested.

"19."

He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way down without waiting for Uzuki.

"Why does that bother you so much to say?" she called after him, practically running down the steps.

He turned abruptly, anchoring himself on the handrails. She barely caught herself from running into him, though she slipped a little. His gaze was hard and angry, and it surprised her. "Because I'm past that, Yashiro. I'm dead. It does not matter."

And then he was moving again.

When they got down to the base level, Kariya was first out and far ahead, as Uzuki was slower, or rather at the same pace, and Kariya was going unusually fast.

She did not follow him back.