The bus is late, for once. According to Kid's Rolex, it's exactly ten minutes behind schedule, a wait that would be much more vexing if a desert in winter was actually cold.

"I can't believe we moved here," Kid grumbles, removing a jacket that likely cost more than two months of Black Star's rent. "I've got all this winter wear that's never going to get used again. It's such a fucking waste."

Black Star raises an eyebrow. "Dude, I've lived here since I was four. What 'we' are you talking about?"

"My father and I, obviously," Kid says. "He'd always said he wanted me to live within driving distance for a while after I became independent." He grimaces. "However, he didn't tell me that he planned on moving to fucking Death Valley."

"Come on, it's not that bad! There's a really great pizza place right by your house, the weather's always nice, and, most importantly, you get to enjoy the pleasure of my company."

"I also had the pleasure of you punching me in the face," Kid points out.

"You've gotta stop using that against me," Black Star says, just as the bus pulls up to the curb in a cloud of exhaust fumes and city stink.

The driver is a tall man with bulging biceps and a facial tattoo, explaining why no one's yet criticized his sense of timing. Aside from him, the seats aboard are mostly empty. A girl with pale hair and odd makeup occupies the seat closest to Captain Swole, and a woman wearing rectangular glasses occupies a seat in the far back.

Kid and Black Star choose to sit a few rows back from the pale-haired girl and her black briefcase, though their selection is mostly random. Though the bus clearly is in need of some thorough cleaning, there are no odd stains on seats to avoid. All the little repulsive things that accumulate on vehicles like this have been miraculously contained to the grimy floor, where they can be simply stepped over. It smells of perspiration and worn-out sneakers, with the faint stench of gasoline fumes thrown in for the instant when they lurch forward.

"So," Kid asks, setting aside his complaints about the yearly weather, "Where are we going anyway? More importantly, why are you bringing me?"

" We're visiting my family," Black Star says, as if that explains everything. "You're coming because I like having you around."

"I thought Stein and the McMortie's crew were your family?" Kid asks, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"This is the other side of my family! They're not as weird and Mifune doesn't keep organs in his office, so you'll probably like them. You like boring stuff, right?"

"What are you—"

"I'm kidding, Mifune's super cool. He's got a room that's just swords! Like, eighty of them. You're gonna love him."

"Oh," Kid says, unsure whether to be relieved or apprehensive. "That seems dangerous."

"Nah, it's fine," Black Star assures him. "He keeps them locked up so Angela can't steal them to play with. It's totally safe."

"Angela?"

Black Star retrieves his phone from his pocket, and flips through his saved photos until he finds what he's looking for.

"Here!" he says, handing his phone over to Kid for examination. "The guy with the long hair is Mifune, and the girl he's got with him is Angela. You can kinda see my hair off to the side, but you've gotta squint."

"Are they your cousins?" Kid asks.

"Nah," Black Star says, watching Kid zoom in on a sword in the background. "Angela's basically my little sister, and Mifune's just himself. I've known both of them for a really long time."

Kid nods. "I see." Satisfied with his inspection of the picture, he returns Black Star's phone to his owner. "How did you meet them?"

Black Star leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's sort of a long story. When I was in middle school, Mifune taught a kid's kendo class a few blocks from my house. My foster parents must've wanted me out of their hair really bad, because they let me go after I only begged them twice. Went there for a year or so, learned some neat shit. The place closed before I ever got anywhere with it."

"So we're visiting your old kendo teacher."

"Not just that. Mifune's the one that took me in when I dropped out of school. I ditched my foster family and needed somewhere to go, and he didn't ask questions when I showed up. I lived with him and Angela for two years, I think." Black Star narrates his life like a bored sports announcer, lending no excitement or awe to game-changing plays.

"That's how I met Tsubaki too!" he continues, perking up noticeably when discussing his roommate. "She was Angela's babysitter. Mine also, according to Mifune. He didn't trust me to watch Angela myself."

The bus screeches to a halt, throwing all loose objects and passengers forward.

"Where the fuck did this imbecile learn to drive?" Kid mutters, combing his hair back into neatness after the upset of a sudden stop.

"Driver's ed?" Black Star offers.

Kid gives him the exasperated stare of someone who prefers his rhetorical questions unanswered.

Up front, another passenger boards. Kid doesn't realize who it is until Black Star leaps out of his seat and runs forward to bear-hug the newcomer with all the force he can muster.

"Black Star!" Tsubaki exclaims, surprisingly audible for someone with all the air squeezed from their lungs. "I thought you were going to wait for me at Mifune's!"

"We left really late," Black Star explains, releasing his grip and leading Tsubaki back to their seats. "But forget about that! Since you're here anyway, I can show you this!"

Proudly, he rolls up the left sleeve of his favorite shirt, revealing the outline of a star tattooed on his shoulder. A diagonal line runs over the shape. "I just got it done," he says. "It's pretty neat, right, Tsubaki? You can touch it if you want."

"Wait," Kid interjects, craning his head over for a look at the ink in question, "you're telling your roommate about this before you tell me?"

"Tsubaki's one of my best friends," Black Star says. "And you saw me naked like two days ago, how didn't you notice this?"

Kid flushes a deep stop-sign scarlet, and makes no further comment.

The bus exits onto the highway, turning directly towards the sun. A few wispy clouds drift through the desert skies above, occasionally casting shadows over the earth below.

"How long is the drive?" Kid asks, pulling out his phone and earbuds.

"Forty minutes at most," Black Star tells him. "Mifune lives in one of the suburbs down south. Traffic's good, so it might be only thirty."

Kid nods, and puts his headphones in, closing his eyes as he prepares to block out his surroundings for the duration of the ride.

Black Star rests his head on Tsubaki's shoulder, knowing that she won't mind the scratchy feeling of his gelled spikes. "My family used to be mercenaries, way back when," he says. "That's what my dad told me when I was a kid. Said they all had tattoos like this." He touches his shoulder. "Just the star, I mean. The line's something I added myself."

Tsubaki doesn't say anything. She puts an arm around Black Star, and rubs his unmarked shoulder as a small comfort.

It's a long drive from here to the house he grew up in. That's plenty of time to talk things out, or to dream of gilded futures and childhood ambitions. Second opinions on potential careers are never bad to have, especially when it's something so risky as his lofty goals.

But his future is certain. Determination is all he needs, and someday, when the dust has settled, he can look back on this city and its dried-out grease stains and be proud of how far he's come.

For now, Tsubaki's shoulder is a good place to sleep. As his eyelids slide shut, Black Star watches a plane soar across the bright blue winter sky. Maka's visiting in spring, he remembers. No word on the date, but she's never flaked out before.

His father's name is on a distant tombstone. His family is alive, and that's all that he needs.