Shion doesn't hear his window pop open. He doesn't hear the soft footsteps of a so-called rat. He doesn't hear the squeak of Nezumi's scrawny weight on the ladder of his bunk-bed. He only feels the sharp squeeze on his forearm and the ache in his forehead when he sits up so fast he almost passes out.

"Nez…Nezumi. You scared me," he gasps, pressing the palm of his hand against his brow. Nezumi maintains his grips Shion's other arm. Those grey eyes practically glow in the dark. Shion starts thinking about Omphalotus olearius, a bioluminescent fungi, before thoughts like 'What's wrong,' 'Is everything okay' and 'Why are you waking me up' begin to filter through.

"Shion, let's go."

"Mmm? Where?"

"Come on."

"What's wrong?" Shion finally asks once glowing plants and animals are safely tucked away in the recesses of his mind and reality begins to disentangle itself from the vice grip of sleep and dreams.

"Nothing. I just wanna teach you something."

"Teach me what?"

"Something you need to know. Now get your ass outta bed."

Shion nods, mumbling "…language…" under his breath and wondering what Nezumi would think was important enough to pull Shion out of bed at this hour. What is this hour? Shion squints at his alarm clock and sees a bright green two-thirty-four-am glaring back at him.

Nezumi's hand vanishes from Shion's arm and the boy the hand belongs to disappears as well. With a soft whump Nezumi lands on the floor. Shion stretches and rubs his eyes before climbing down off his bed. Nezumi is sitting cross-legged on those crates that Shion had stacked below the window; the strategically-placed crates that, Shion realizes with a small jolt, were probably the biggest tip-off to his mother that he had someone sneaking into his room at night.

Shion pulls on a sweater and digs around for socks. Nezumi is still wearing that sweater Safu's grandmother knit. A soft smile finds its way onto Shion's mouth. But… he's also wearing shorts.

"Nezumi it's cold outside. Do you want to borrow some pants?"

"No, I'm fine. I don't need your fucking pants."

Shion purses his lips and starts tying his shoes. Nezumi's barefoot, but Shion already learned not to offer him any shoes.

"Hurry up," Nezumi growls. He gives Shion a leg-up and pushes him up and out of the window.

It's bone-chilling, teeth-chattering cold when they reach the park. Shion isn't sure if it's so cold because it's slightly windy or because mere minutes ago he was in a warm cave of blankets.

Shion knows his way around the grounds, knows where all of the Nageia nagi and Lagerstroemia subcostata are planted, knows which types of grass grows in which areas. He bites his tongue to keep from saying, "Hey Nezumi, there're some Lilium maculatum over the hill! They're not in bloom right now, but let's go look at them anyways!" He follows Nezumi silently and shivers in a cold that Nezumi either doesn't notice or has become completely accustomed to.

"We're here," Nezumi says. Shion's growing tired of all this sudden cryptic stuff but only says, "There's nothing here. It's just an empty area. There's only some Agrostis stolonifera andImperata cylindrica."

Nezumi glares at him. "I know it's empty. That's why we're here. No one from the Security Bureau's going to wander back here."

Shion nods. Come to think of it, this is the first time he's ever been anywhere outside of his house with Nezumi. His face turns red. Of course Nezumi would only take him somewhere in the middle of the night, when the streets were empty. Of course it took them twice as long to get to the park as it should have, because Nezumi took them through back alleyways and froze at any unaccounted-for sounds. Why hadn't Shion even thought of that?

Nezumi doesn't notice Shion's embarrassment. Instead his eyes scan the area one last time before his shoulders relax and he turns to face Shion.

"You want those kids to stop bulling you, right?"

"Is that what this is about? Nezumi, I told you: it's fine. They're not as mean as they were at first, and one of them is actually pretty nice when I talk to him alone; I think we might even get to be friends pretty soon, so I—"

"So who gave you that bruise?"

"Which one?"

"Exactly. You can't even keep track of how many you've got right now. I'm not going to be… friends," Nezumi spits the word at Shion, who resists the urge to flinch, "with a weakling. Now come on, stand like this."

Nezumi shifts so his legs are apart, knees bent, and fists cocked in front of him. Shion attempts to copy him.

"Like this?"

"No, your legs are too far apart, you're going to lose your balance and fall. And if you keep your fists there someone'll just hit your hands and make you punch your own face."

"Oh… is this better?"

"Geez, you really are an airhead."

"Hey! I'm trying! It's the middle of the night and I'm tired!"

"Stop complaining. Now punch my shoulder as hard as you can."

Shion drops his fists and furrows his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to punch you!"

"Why not?"

"I don't want to hurt you! You're my… friend!" Shion tests the word out and it fits perfectly on his tongue. "Friend," he echoes himself with a nod of self-approval. It was previously Safu's word, but Nezumi deserves it too. Maybe Nezumi deserves it even mor—

"Airhead! Did you listen to anything I just said?"

Shion's head snaps up. "Yes!" he lies.

"Liar. Like I just said, if you don't want them to beat you up anymore you'll let me teach you how to fight."

"That's what we're doing? Nezumi, I don't want to fight! I don't want to hurt you, or them, or anyone!"

Nezumi's nose crinkles and lips curl. "You're lucky you live here, in safe little No. 6. You wouldn't last two minutes in West Block," he snarls.

"I doubt it's really that dangerous, Nezumi…"

Nezumi clutches his stomach, doubles over, and laughs. It's that deep belly-laugh that simultaneously makes Shion want to question the word "friend" and to laugh along with his… friend. What else would Nezumi be? Could Nezumi be? Friend is the only word Shion has, and it fits like the last puzzle piece in a 1,000-piece set, with that satisfying final "click" and feeling of accomplishment.

Nezumi dramatically stands back up and whips imaginary tears out of his eyes.

"Well your majesty, since you seem to know so much about your neighboring realms, I figure you won't need any more of my knowledge."

Shion puts his hands on his hips and glares with all the anger and frustration a knobby-kneed twelve-year-old can manage. "Just… teach me something else! I don't want to punch them, so teach me something else!"

"Fine. I'll teach you something else. But it's not going to be any easier."

"That's okay. I just don't want to punch them."

Nezumi reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out a hair-tie. He yanks his hair into a small, messy ponytail at the base of his neck, but a wild and unruly muddle of bangs and too-short-strands still frame his face.

"Your hair's getting really long!" Shion says with a smile. "Maybe you should get it cut."

"West Block doesn't exactly have a thriving community of barbers," Nezumi snaps back before adding "jackass" under his breath.

Shion frowns. "Well if that's the case I could cut your hair! You've trusted me with a needle; surely you can trust me with scissors." Shion reaches a hand out towards the top of Nezumi's head, but Nezumi takes a fluid step back, leaving Shion to grope at thin air.

"I have to leave it long! Leave my hair alone and stop trying to change the subject! I'm trying to teach you how to survive!"

Shion crosses his arms and spits, "Fine. Let's just get this done with so we can go get some sleep. It's gotta be three-thirty in the morning already, at least. And I have class in the morning."

Nezumi reaches back into his pocket and pulls out a switchblade this time, flicking the knife out and handing it to Shion handle-first. Shion steps backwards and nearly trips over his own feet.

"A knife?!"

"You want to know how to defend yourself, don't you?"

"I mean… not like this!"

"Just take the damn knife. The sooner you let me teach you the sooner your majesty can get back to his royal slumber."

Shion glares but takes the knife from Nezumi's hand anyways, careful not to nick anyone's fingers in the process. He holds the blade lightly, running his fingers over everything except the sharp bits. He bounces it in his palm, feeling the weight.

"Will you stop fondling the knife and just hold it already?"

"What's fondling?"

"God you're an airhead!" Nezumi says through gritted teeth, "Just hold the knife like a normal person already!"

Shion grips the handle of the knife and holds it up towards Nezumi, who takes a step back. His eyes are suddenly wide—if only for a single second—until he takes a deep breath.

"Nezumi?"

"Just point that somewhere else. I would die of shame if my throat was slit by some novice."

"I think you'd die of your slit throat before you had a chance to die of shame, Nezumi."

Nezumi looks at the ground and shakes his head before glancing back up to inspect Shion's grip. "Idiot! You're going to cut your thumb off if you hold it like that."

Shion readjusts his grip.

"You'll cut off your pinky."

Shion readjusts again.

"You'll drop it."

"Well then you show me!"

Shion holds the knife out to Nezumi, who takes it without that caution Shion had displayed when he was handed the little blade. Shion jerks his hand back.

"I wasn't going to cut you, jackass. Unlike you, I'm not afraid of knives. I know how to use them."

Shion glares at Nezumi's smug face and moves back to watch him in action.

His half-ponytailed, half-feral black hair curves with his movements as Nezumi arcs the knife through the air, slashing and dodging invisible targets. He dances around Shion in rapid spins and sudden squats, at some times nearly on the ground and at others practically flying through the air.

Shion almost forgets to breathe.

"How do you even do that?" Shion asks. Nezumi freezes and turns to face him.

"That's what I'm trying to teach you, idiot. I know how to defend myself. And you need to know too, if you want those assholes to leave you alone."

"Language!"

"Whatever. Here, take the knife again."

He slaps the handle into Shion's palm and takes a single step back before Shion manages to drop it.

"Could you maybe teach me something else?" Shion asks softly, staring at the knife on the ground, "I can't even manage to hold it right."

"You're holding it too loose. You can't be scared of it; you can't be willing to let it go. Actually…"

Nezumi puts his hands on his hips and nods.

"I'm gonna teach you how to throw a knife. It's more difficult than what I've tried to teach you so far, but since you're so damned determined to get that knife as far away from you as fast as possible… You'll probably still fuck it up though."

"Shut up! No I won't! Just tell me what to throw it at!"

Nezumi stoops to pick up the knife and says, "One of the trees."

"What?! Which one?!"

"That one over there. Don't tell me you're friends with it or something." Nezumi smirks and points to a tree a few yards away from them.

"No! That's a Fagus crenata! We can't throw knives into it!"

"Why not?"

"It'll hurt it! Can't we throw knives into anything else?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Shion, all we've got around here are plants."

Shion pauses and stares at the threatened tree. "I know a spot where we won't get caught that has stuff other than trees."

"Lead the way, your highness."

Shion glares at Nezumi but walks through the bushes that concealed this little clearing from the rest of the park, bringing Nezumi onto the main pathway.

"Shion, you airhead, no! They'll see us!"

"It's okay, this way's fastest, I promise. They won't see us; this part of the park's pretty much always empty and I doubt they'd ever watch the surveillance on it."

Nezumi bites his lip but nods and follows Shion onto the sidewalk. They only walk down it for a minute or so before Shion leads Nezumi through another set of bushes—these ones with thorns that scratch at Nezumi's bare legs—to a small tower.

"What's this?"

"It's a clock tower. We're on the back side of it and I doubt anyone would come through here except for maintenance. So it should be safe."

"A clock tower?"

"Yeah. But look," Shion gestures at the rounded wooden door to the tower, embedded in the pale curved brick, "we can throw knives at that."

Nezumi stares at the door and slowly nods his head. "Yeah, this should work. And this way you won't have to hurt any of your precious trees."

Shion nods and smiles.

"Take the knife."

Shion's smile fades, but he reaches out and takes the blade.

"Okay, your grip on it is actually pretty good. Just move your thumb up a little bit. Yep, that's good. Now, decide where you want to hit the door."

Shion looks over to the tower and picks a knot in the wood. It reminds him why he always liked that door; it has so many unhidden imperfections, unlike the rest of the city. He takes a few steps towards it, but Nezumi's outstretched forearm hits him in the chest.

"Nezumi, I think it's too far for me to hit from here."

"Stop complaining. Okay, how raise your arm and hold the knife behind your back, by your shoulder blade. No, that's a bad angle; you'll cut your ear off as soon as you move to throw it."

Shion shifts his arm.

"That's better. Now let go of the knife the second your arm extends completely. Keep your arm straight."

Nezumi takes a step back and watches Shion swing his arm forward, letting go of the knife a bit too soon. It embeds into the ground a few feet in front of Nezumi instead of in the wooden door.

"Could you maybe show me?" Shion asks.

Nezumi sighs and picks up the knife, swings his arm back, and in the time it takes Shion to blink the knife is already splitting through the air. With a loud whump it lodges into the door.

"Wow! Could you show me again?"

Nezumi glares and stomps over to the door, wrenches the knife out, and stomps back to Shion.

"Watch this time, okay?"

Shion nods as Nezumi throws the knife again… and again… and again.

"Shion, you try this time. I've shown you half a dozen times already. Stop stalling."

Shion nods and leaves Nezumi where he stands, trudging over to the door to pull out the knife.

"Hey! It looks like an N!"

"What are you going on about now?"

"The cuts you made in the door! They look like an N!"

"Stop wasting time and get back here."

Instead Shion takes the knife and sticks it back into the wood, pulling down to create a vertical line next to the N.

"What are you doing?" Nezumi asks as he walks over, "Stop fucking around."

"Language!" Shion mutters as he carves a line perpendicular to the top of his first mark.

"What are you doing?" Nezumi asks again.

"I'm carving your name, dummy! The N's already here so I thought I might as well finish the job."

"Shion, stop! Are you trying to get me caught? If they see that… you fucking airhead!"

"Calm down! The government only knows you as VC103221, right?"

"How do you even remember all those numbers?"

Shion shrugs and finishes the E. Nezumi moves to stand next to Shion and reaches a hand out to touch the wood. He pulls away like it's fire.

"Shion… why is there a wooden door on government property?"

"What do you mean?" Shion starts a horizontal line.

"Doesn't the government only use things like metal and plastic with their projects? Things that… you know, they can regulate how perfect it is. They can pull any imperfections out of the assembly lines and make sure whatever they build fits into their utopia."

Shion shrugs. "Yeah, mostly. But there're some wooden structures here in the park. Mom says it's from when the city had to demolish a forest that grew near the city. They said it was dangerous; I think they even said there was some disease in there. They didn't want to waste the wood so they used it for some public spaces like this, I guess."

Nezumi stares at him and slowly places his hand back on the wood, this time pressing his palm against the door instead of merely grazing his fingertips over its surface.

"I wish they hadn't destroyed the forest. I heard there were all kinds of rare plants and animals that are probably extinct now. It would have been cool to study," Shion continues after a moment, never looking up and still carving into the door.

"Don't carve that fucking name in it and get the fuck out of my way," Nezumi snaps, suddenly pulling his hand off the wood and shoving Shion aside. He grabs the knife but doesn't wrench it free.

Shion blinks up at Nezumi, not sure how he even ended up on the ground.

"Nezumi? What's wrong?"

Shion suddenly feels cold again. He isn't sure when he stopped feeling cold, but now his fingers feel numb and he's aware of the breeze ruffling his hair and chilling his scalp.

Nezumi doesn't answer, but his mouth is moving, almost imperceptibly so. He stares at the wooden door, his hand still gripping the knife imbedded in the wood. Shion stands and steps closer to Nezumi; close enough to catch some of the barely-whispered words falling from Nezumi's lips.

"How… Is it with an…" Shion stares at Nezumi's hand clutching the handle of the knife. Does he want to carve his name instead of letting Shion do it? Does he not know how to spell "Nezumi"? Shion bites his lip. Surely, Nezumi knows how to spell his own name, even if it was a strange name for a person. Surely, Nezumi knows how to read and write. Shion shakes his head. Of course Nezumi knows how to read; Shion's seen him do it.

Nezumi lets out a low growl and Shion tenses.

"How… does it… It ends with an i, I'm sure…"

There's a pause filled only with the sound of crickets and rustling leaves.

"No… that's Nezumi. Nezumi ends with an i, not my…" his voice trails off and Shion furrows his eyebrows. Does Nezumi have another name?

Nezumi clenches his jaw and presses his forehead against the door, still muttering.

Finally, he takes a step back and pulls out the knife only to slam it back in, nearly to the hilt. He rips it down and out, again and again, leaving jagged lines behind. He rips and stabs and slashes until the surface is marred with the name Nezumi and chunks and splinters of wood poke out from the elbows of the letters written after Shion's initial attempt. Faintly, Shion thinks he hears Nezumi whisper—to who? To the wood?— "I never wanted that fucking name."

Reflexively Shion begins to say "language," but instead lets the word die on his tongue.

"Nezumi…"

Nezumi tosses the knife towards Shion, who takes a step back instead of catching it. The knife falls harmlessly in the grass.

"Carve your name."

"What?"

"Carve your name. I carved…mine." His voice waivers for a split second, but he glares at Shion until he picks up the knife.

"Oh, okay," Shion mutters, but he smiles softly at Nezumi as he says it, "I guess since I've already started destroying public property I might as well finish."

"Public property? Is that what you call this?" Nezumi spits, arms crossed and the corner of his lip twitching. Shion tilts his head.

"What do you… What else would this be call—"

"Just carve your fucking name and then we can go get a few hours of sleep, alright?" He reaches up and pulls his hair out of its confines, letting it fall around his neck and shoulders.

"Oh, why'd you do that? I liked the ponytail!" Shion says as he nicks an S into the wood under "Nezumi."

"Why? Are you making fun of me?"

"No… I thought it made you look tough."

"Oh."

Nezumi sits down on the ground with his back against the tower, next to the door, and draws his knees up to his chest, occasionally reaching over to touch the bottom of the door as if to make sure it's still there, or maybe to make sure it's real.

Nezumi remains silent while Shion carves his own name, while they walk home, and while they fall asleep so early in the morning the sun is already toying with the thought of peeking past the horizon. Shion doesn't know how to break his friend's silence, but Shion gives him extra blankets to keep away the cold Nezumi ignores.

THE END