Izuru kept his eyes trained very steadily on the road. Gin leaned on the passenger side door, his own squinted eyes focused on the passing landscaping. From the corner of his eye, Izuru could see the reflection of Gin's flashing smile in the window. Sometimes Gin's smile disconcerted Izuru, even now, after how close they'd become. Izuru let out a tiny sigh.

He thought back to when they first met, how he'd literally tripped on Gin, and his initial shock at seeing Gin's unusual features. The coin-bright silver of his hair, his spreading, maliciously gleeful sneer that pushed his thick-lashed aqua eyes into tiny slits. Izuru turned onto the freeway.

"Nee, Izuru?" Gin asked slowly, rubbing his palms together.

"Hmm?" Izuru turned his face to Gin but didn't take his eyes from the lines on the road.

"I'm going to go to Kyoto next weekend."

"Oh, okay." Izuru gave a tiny nod.

Gin lowered his voice. "Will ya come with me?"

"All the way to Kyoto?" Izuru's eyebrows knit.

"Yeah."

"I guess so, if you'd like me to."

"Yosh. We'll fly to Tokyo then take the Shinkansen down to Kyoto."

"You're paying for tickets?"

"Well, yeah."

"If you're paying for tickets, I'll pay for everything else." He flexed his fingers.

"Izuru, ya don't have ta do that."

"It's fine, Gin. When my parents died they left me an incredible sum of money, not to mention I get ¥100,000 from Hisagi every month, plus my pay from working at Starbucks."

"Ya work at Starbucks?"

Izuru flushed. "As a matter of fact, I do." He strangled the steering wheel as he followed a bend in the freeway.

"That's really cool." Gin turned his smile at Izuru.

Izuru's blush deepened. "Thanks." He turned into the cemetery parking lot and into a spot. The keys jangled as he pulled them out of the ignition. "So um, you'll call me about this some other time?"

"Yup," Gin leaned over to kiss Izuru impishly on the nose with a tiny "chu!". Izuru let himself a quick smile and heated cheeks, and they both got out and slammed their doors in unison. Gin waved. "See ya," he called casually, strolling to his driveway.

"Bye," Izuru called back with a weak wave. He turned to go visit his parents' grave for the first time in a week or two, stuffing his hands in his sweatshirt pocket.

He wandered in the open gate, but was stopped by Gin's yelling.

"Wait! I don't have yer number," Gin ran to Izuru, flailing his arms.

"Oh!" Izuru rummaged in his pockets and came up with his favorite orange pen. Gin held out his arm with his sleeve pulled up, and Izuru wrote his number over Gin's twisted, faded scar with a muffled snicker. He drew a tiny heart next to Gin's wrist.

Gin's cheeks pinkened.


Izuru dropped to his knees in front of his parents grave as he had done so many times before, and hung his head to pray. Father, Mother, it's been too long. He lit the stick of incense with the lighter in his pocket kept specifically for the task. I've been so busy, I haven't had time to visit. Breathing deep, he put his hands on his knees, his shoulders slouching. I met a man I really like. His name is Gin. And I know you wouldn't approve of this at all, Father, but- he turned his head to the side. -I'm with him. As in romantically. Izuru shut his eyes very tight and bit his lower lip. I know this isn't what you would have expected from me. And he's done things that aren't the greatest. A sigh escaped from between Izuru's pouting lips. His fingernails scraped the denim on his knees with a scritching sound. But I guess I can make it worthwhile.

The greenery rustled in the breeze. Izuru reached out with his skinny fingers to touch the names of his parents engraved into the slab of granite. "I miss you," he whispered.

'I'm home,' Izuru called, setting his bookbag down by the door.

'Izuru, did you bring your marks?'

'Yeah,' Izuru huffed, flipping his shaggy bangs to the left. The white envelope was already in his hands.

'Oh, good.' His mother set down the pot she was washing and dried off her hands. "May I see them?" Izuru held out the envelope. She took it from his hand, and sat down at the kitchen table. Her blue eyes flicked over the grades on the sheet. 'You're doing so well in all your classes, Izuru. Especially in your writing class.' She said proudly.

Izuru sat in the chair next to his mother. 'I really enjoy it.'

'Oh? Are you going to be a writer?'

'Yes,' Izuru said dreamily.

'Ridiculous.' His father scoffed from the living room.

'Hmm?' His mother set down the report card.

'Be a writer, bah. Be an engineer. Or a mathmetician. The world needs more mathmeticians.'

'But I don't want to be an engineer or a mathmetician.' Izuru set his elbows on the table, and his chin in his hands.

'Doesn't matter what you want.' His father grumbled.

'Kagekiyo,' his mother scolded. 'Our son can be whatever he likes.'

'How will he make a living?'
'Easy,' Izuru exclaimed. 'I get published. Sell my books. And if that doesn't work I can always teach.'

'Izuru, the world doesn't need another fuzzy-headed writer type who does nothing but waste paper. Do something practical for a living.'

'Kagekiyo! That's enough. He said he can always teach. Isn't that practical enough for you? Imagine it. Izuru as a teacher. That would be a good job for him.'

'What would he teach, Shizuka?'

'Poetry,' Izuru frowned.

'Poetry!' His father echoed. 'And produce more fuzzy-headed writers?'

'Kagekiyo, you're becoming insulting. Knock it off. I mean, why are we even arguing about this? Izuru has plenty of time to think about careers. He's only fifteen.'

Izuru looked down. There was a rustle as his father shook out his newspaper. 'Suit yourself.' He growled.

You didn't approve of much of anything, did you, Father? Izuru gave a light laugh, retracting his fingers from the headstone. The last of the incense fell, smiting the wafting smoke. You'd skin me for what I'm doing with Gin. He stood up. ...I guess I didn't have as much to say as I thought I did. I'm sorry. He promptly turned on his heel and padded away, cicadas chirping loudly and obnoxiously in his ears.
The cemetery was rather peaceful at night. There was a light breeze that rustled the green leaves of the trees, the coolish night air nipping barely at Izuru's cheeks. If he were to look up, he would see the inky blanket of sky embroidered with silver flickering stars and a skinny waning crescent moon tipped on its side like a crooked smile. Izuru turned his enigmatic eyes to the grinning moon. His fair eyebrows gathered together in his signature look of sad apathy, his pinkening lips set closed firmly. Although he had told Gin to take it slow with him, things were falling together rather quickly. They spent almost every day together. Sometimes with Aizen, sometimes not. Izuru thought about his classes, wondering if his grades were slipping at all due to a certain shiny silver distraction. (Izuru had always been rather attracted to shiny things.) He kicked a pebble as he always did, dragging his heels through the gravel.

He shut the creaky iron gate behind himself with a wince. Some of the black paint flaked off on his fingers, and he unlocked his truck from a distance with the key-ring remote. His headlights shone in his eyes, and he blinked, throwing up his arm as a visor.


Izuru zipped his suitcase shut. He was actually kind of excited to go to Kyoto with Gin, because he'd never been, and now he was getting to go with someone who'd lived there for half their life. It was like getting his own personal tour guide. With a smug smile, he lifted his suitcase off his bed, and carried it to the door. Giving his room a swift once-over with his eyes, he shut the door behind himself, and rolled his suitcase down the hall. Perfectly on cue, a horn honked from the driveway. That would be Aizen-san, Izuru thought. It's nice of him to drive Gin and I to the airport.

Izuru slid into the familiar leather back seat, and Gin grinned at him, curled in on himself against the door, his socked feet on the seat. He's pretty flexible, Izuru thought, shutting the door and buckling his seat belt. Aizen started his convertible, and screeched out of Izuru's driveway, slamming everyone back into their seats. Izuru threw out his arms to brace himself against the seats, his head whipping back. Luckily there was no whiplash.

The drive to the airport was long, windy and terrifying, as per normal. It never ceased to amaze Izuru how Aizen never got any tickets or crashed. Even racing right by police cars. Izuru couldn't wait for the ninety minute flight from Sapporo to Tokyo, and the long silence and complimentary peanuts. Maybe he would take a nap on Gin's shoulder.

Aizen jerked into a parking spot, and Izuru almost fell out of the car, so happy to be out of the maniac's vehicle. They entered through the long row of automatic sliding glass doors in the front of the airport, rolling their bags behind them. The airport was hustling and bustling with many different kinds of people. Business men, flight attendants, tourists, students, you name it, they were there. Izuru breathed deep. Ah, airport scent. Was that soft pretzels he smelled? His stomach grumbled.

"Gin, how long do we have until our flight departs?"

Izuru caught a glimmer of aqua eyes. Gin tipped his chin to the side. "An hour. Why?"

"I want a pretzel."

Gin snickered. Izuru kicked his ankle, causing him to stumble. "Okay, okay, we'll go get ya a pretzel!"

Aizen smirked. "You two are so cute together."

Izuru blushed, embarrassed. "Ya think so, Sousuke?" Gin asked, craning his neck to look at Aizen, who was walking a few steps behind them. Aizen dipped his head in a nod, his hands clasped behind his back. Gin giggled, and pecked Izuru on the cheek.

Izuru turned deeply red. "Gin, we're in public."

Gin only sneered wider. Izuru placed slightly more distance between himself and Gin, his hand flying embarrassedly to the cheek Gin had kissed.

They found the gate where their flight would be departing from after checking in their suitcases and stumbling through security without a hitch, flopping into the long row of chairs. Aizen sat down with them, as it had been prearranged that he would stay with them until their flight left. "You still want a pretzel, 'Zuru?" Gin asked, and Izuru noticed people had begun to make wide arcs around them. Was it because of how Gin looked? Izuru frowned slightly, and nodded yes to Gin's question. "Let's go, then!" Gin nimbly hopped up. "Sousuke, can ya watch our things?" Aizen nodded slowly, with a soft smile. Gin snatched Izuru's hand, much to Izuru's dismay, and dragged him off to the food court.

Standing in the line for the pretzel booth, Gin grudgingly let go of Izuru's hand, submitting to his frantic attempts to pull his hand from Gin's. Gin looked over the tops of everybody's heads, and then directly down at the head of the girl in front of him. He nudged Izuru with his elbow. "'Zuru, look. She's blond, just like you." Gin whispered with a grin. He tapped the girl on the shoulder. "'Scuse me miss, but ya have really pretty hair."

The short girl turned around in shock, jumping slightly. She blushed at Gin's comment. "Thank you," she murmured, running her fingers through her layered, chin-length wavy blond hair that was pulled up into a partial pony tail. "Your hair is pretty, too!" She chirped, beaming. Her face was round and dusted liberally with freckles, and her skin was olive-toned and smooth. She was a good two heads shorter than Gin, and very foreign-looking, complete with an awkward, slight Kansai but still American-sounding accent.

It was Gin's turn to blush. "Why thank you," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "I guess it ain't every day ya come across a group of silver- and gold-headed people. My boyfriend Izuru has blond hair, too!" Gin looped an arm around Izuru's shoulders.

"B-boyfriend?" Izuru stammered, his heart pounding in his throat. This was the first time Gin had introduced Izuru as his "boyfriend".

"That is what ya are, right?" Gin looked honestly confused. "I'd be concerned if ya were otherwise."

"Well, yes, but-"

"Ohh, your hair is so straight!" The girl standing before them in line gushed. "I wish I had straight hair like yours!" She stood on tiptoes to pet Izuru's head. Izuru's eyes widened and the corners of his mouth turned down. "And it's soft, too. I'm so jealous." She retracted her hand suddenly with a blush. "Sorry! I hope ya don't mind me petting your boyfriend's head, Silver-san."

"Not a problem. And ya almost got my name right!"

"I did?" The girl brightened up.

"Yup! I'm Gin." Gin smiled his signature stomach-flipping smile.

"How fitting!" The girl's unfocused gray eyes sparkled. "I'm Chie."

Don't I get a say in whether or not my head is petted? Izuru wondered, hunching his shoulders as Gin bent down to allow Chie to pet his unusual silver hair. Man, all I wanted was a pretzel. Gin and Chie laughed.

"Excuse me, sirs, miss, I can help whoever's next in line." The teen behind the counter called. Gin gestured for Chie to go ahead of he and Izuru.


Gin waved goodbye to Aizen, and he and Izuru boarded the smallish plane. They found their seats, glancing from their tickets to the rows of seats with confused expressions, and back again. Izuru fought the urge to do a little victory dance when they found their seats, and discovered they were next to a window. Izuru took the window seat, and Gin took the seat next to him, the one beside the aisle, pulling his knees up under his chin. The other passengers made as wide an arc around Gin as they possibly could, given the narrow aisle. Izuru deflated against the wall of the plane. They didn't have to make such a big fuss about it.

The flight attendants came and secured the bag compartments, patting here and there to make everything fit. There were three flight attendants, a man with long, wavy brown hair that was pulled back into a pony tail and a scruffy beard, a man with long white hair and kind brown eyes, and a woman with a soft smile and her dark brown hair woven into a braid that hung down her front, pulled from the back on either side of her slender neck. It was surely a hairstyle that Izuru had never seen before. The captain came on the intercom, and the flight attendants went through the routine safety demonstration to his narration, pulling on their model seat belts and oxygen masks. Izuru buckled his seat belt, and patted Gin's knee, suggesting he do the same. He grudgingly put his feet down, and buckled his seat belt.

Izuru slid open the window shade to watch as the plane lifted off of the ground. He turned to Gin to say, "Look!" but stopped when he noticed Gin was already nodding off, and drifting in Izuru's direction. Izuru sighed and let him rest his head on his shoulder.

At some point in the flight, Izuru had recieved his package of complimentary peanuts, and was sated. Gin continued to sleep on his shoulder, his thin lips slack. It was definitely a change to see him not smiling. Izuru smiled softly. He stared out the tiny window at the blindingly white blanket of clouds they were flying above, and blinked. He was on his way to Kyoto, indeed. Gin stirred slightly, and Izuru touched his knee gently. The plane was silent as death, and peaceful. Izuru crunched happily on his peanuts, which were the highlight of this flight, to him.

The captain came over the intercom, and announced to everybody to please buckle their seat belts, as the plane was about to land. Izuru smirked, as neither he nor Gin had unbuckled their seatbelts in the first place. Ninety minutes had gone much faster than anticipated. Watching out the window as the plane grounded, Izuru poked Gin awake.

"Gin," he whispered in Gin's ear. "Get up, we're landing."

Gin grumbled sleepily and drearily sat up, rubbing his squinted eyes. "We here already?"

"Yeah."

People began to stand up, opening the bag compartments to retrieve their carry-ons and purses, the flight attendants helping out with white gloved hands. Izuru stood up and stretched, and pulled Gin up out of his seat. Worming his way around the swaying, sleepy Gin and popping open the bag compartment just above their heads, Izuru snagged their bags. They stumbled out of the smallish plane, their legs slightly numb from the hour and a half of sitting still.

Tokyo was huge, and Izuru had never been before. He stared up at the sky-high buildings all around them, his blue eyes wide and glazed over. Gin seemed completely unfazed by it all, focused on finding a map and a taxi. If Izuru squinted really hard, he could see the red and white pinnacle of the Tokyo Tower, poking just above the gray cityscape. He let out a tiny pleased giggle. Gin flagged down a taxi, his silver hair glinting in the bright sunlight. Izuru fanned himself with his hand, already sweating and soggy from the late summer Tokyo humidity. It was always so moderate up in Sapporo, and he was unused to the heat. Gin seemed unfazed by the weather, too. Geez, nothing can amaze this guy, Izuru thought, climbing into the taxi cab alongside Gin.

The taxi driver looked back at the duo to ask where he was headed, then jumped at the sight of them. "Where to?" He stammered.

"The Shinkansen station, please." Gin said sweetly, his steely smile stretching towards his ears.

The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb.

"So where you headed?" The gruff man behind the wheel asked, sometime in the middle of the drive.

"My hometown," Gin sighed, staring out the window with a grin.

"Where's that?"

"Kyoto." Gin replied, flashing a glance at Izuru. "Family business, ya know?"

"Oh, are you two brothers?"

Gin put his elbow on the window sill. "Nope!"

"We're far from it." Izuru added with a smirk. Would Gin tell the blatant truth?

"I see." The driver grunted, pulling up to the very busy and nearly bottle-necked front of the Shinkansen station. "Good luck on your trip, boys." Gin handed the driver the fare.

"Will do, sir." Izuru said with a smile as they climbed out.

They stared at the busy station, unsure where to begin. "To the ticket booth?" Gin suggested, raising his thin silver eyebrows.

Izuru nodded, gulping and bracing himself for the imminent zoo.