Kenzaki Kazuma hated airports. There were very few things he had actively disliked during life, and his seven years wandering as one of the Undead hadn't added to that list in any meaningful way. Except for airports. He'd never left Japan while he was alive, but there was no way he could stay in the country while he (Kazuma refused to so much as whisper the name, even in his thoughts) was still there, and he had the right to be near his adopted daughter. So Kazuma had left.

He couldn't feel him from across an ocean, or at least not as more than a vague and easily muted buzz in the back of his head. It hadn't changed in the intervening years. Kazuma shook his head. He wasn't usually given to introspection; it only made things worse. It was the plane load of Japanese tourists trickling through the halls, he thought, after looking around; they reminded him of home. He still couldn't help but think of Japan as home, although he didn't think it likely that he would ever return.

Ever was a long time.

Kazuma deliberately drew in a deep breath and let it out. He wasn't going to let his thoughts go in that direction. He had just arrived in Frankfurt, simply because he'd never been in Germany before, and he'd taken a plane because he'd crossed the Atlantic on a ship twice already and it had been a less than pleasant experience both times. Now that he was here, he was – as always – at a little bit of a loss for what to do with himself. He didn't speak a word of German, but that was part of what he was starting to enjoy about new places – the challenge of communication. The more he connected with people, the more human he felt.

Someone jostling into him from behind awakened a very human flare of irritation, which faded before it really had the chance to shine. The muttered apology first in Japanese and then in hasty and accented English turned the lingering ire into some amusement.

"It's fine," Kazuma said in Japanese, turning around.

The kid who'd bumped into him – and for all that he was probably technically an adult, he couldn't have been much more than twenty – looked up from a sheet of paper with wide eyes. "Oh," he said. He looked absolutely exhausted, and the only luggage he appeared to have was the paper in his hands.

"First time abroad?" Kazuma asked sympathetically, and was taken aback when the kid actually flinched.

"Not, um, no," he said. "I'm sorry I bumped into you."

Well, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. Kazuma bowed politely and introduced himself. The kid flinched again, slightly, and gave his name as Hino Eiji. He eyed Kazuma warily for a moment, clearly wondering something and then dismissing it.

"Where are you trying to go?" Kazuma asked.

"I, uh, I'm supposed to – I don't think anyone's coming to meet me, but I'm supposed to join an archaeological dig near Haslach im Kinzigtal." Hino blinked a few times, fumbling for an envelope tucked between his papers.

"Okay," Kazuma said, and gently steered him out of the center of the thoroughfare; the two of them were already getting some irate glances from people who had to walk around them. "Do you know where that is?"

"I'm…" Hino's voice trailed off and he stared at the map with a blank face for a moment. "I'm supposed to get on a train," he said, voice low. "There's a ticket."

If there was one thing Kazuma knew how to do, it was follow signs in an airport. "That's probably this way, then," he said, and started off. After a few steps, he glanced to the side, but Hino wasn't there. Kazuma stopped and turned around. Hino hadn't moved; he was just staring at Kazuma. "You coming?"

"Uh, you don't have to – I mean, you have somewhere to be, right?"

Kazuma went back. "I don't have any immediate plans," he said. He wouldn't have touched the other man, except that he'd just spent the past year navigating a far higher level of tactile contact than he'd ever experienced in Japan, and he didn't think before putting a hand on Hino's shoulder. Hino was shaking, fine tremors invisible to the naked eye. Kazuma left his hand where it was. "Are you all right?"

Hino put his right hand in his pocket before answering and the tremors stilled, although Kazuma could feel the tightness in the muscle under his hand. "I'm fine. Thank you for your help." He bowed hastily, hand still in his pocket and all but ran.

Kazuma blinked, half-tempted to go after him. Chasing down random people who seemed nervous after running into him seemed like an excellent way to provoke antagonism, though, and it wasn't an odd reaction. Something about Kazuma made some people just a little nervous. "Or it has nothing to do with you," he said to himself. "The world doesn't revolve around you, no matter what role you play in it not destroying itself."

The thought that he was engaging in a villainous monologue made him chuckle, and now it was his turn to garner wary looks from passersby. Kazuma looked one more time in the direction Hino had gone, but he could no longer see the kid. He silently wished him luck and walked the other way.