bell, book, and candle

by Digital Skitty

Suga's life consists of doing jobs for Kiyoko (usually herding lost ghosts), but the peace can't last. It starts with a fake luck spirit haunting an unsuspecting kid - no, it starts with a witch trying to summon an uncontracted demon - or maybe it starts with the tengu eggs and the selkie thief - no, it probably started 3 years ago and it's just now falling down around their ears.

21. Tendou Satori

Chapter 21: Tendou Satori Is Surprised To Find Himself This Attached

-.-.-

The nightgaunt reaches with long nails aimed at Iwaizumi's eyes when it's hit with a sleep spell. It flumps forward, nearly gouging Iwaizumi anyway, and he rolls out of the way with a curse.

"What the hell is going on?!" Miyanoshita demands. Her voice is high yet firm, and when he sits up to look at her, he finds that she has also teeth and claws of her own at the ready.

Tooru isn't doing as well.

He's curled into the fetal position, shoulders tight, crumbling the ground beneath him.

"Shit." He'd only heard what sort of trouble resulted when Tooru was last here. Iwaizumi rolls to his feet and grabs the unconscious nightgaunt. He rips off its tail, ties its bony wrists together, and heaves it as far as he can throw it.

He'd almost forgotten how everything worked in the Dreamlands. And yet, he's ashamed at how swiftly it's coming back to him. Miyanoshita's eyes are as large as saucers when she sees the nightgaunt nearly disappear into the hazy distance, but he has little time for her awe or confusion. He can explain on the way.

Iwaizumi grabs her hand and turns to help Tooru up, just as the psychic manages to shatter the ground beneath them.

Water drops the size of their heads fly up, breaking their fall, dripping together upward into a bubble, carrying them with them. He is not drowning tonight, not getting lost in the sky either, and not because of Tooru's dumb self, so Iwaizumi flings himself at Tooru and uncurls him by force.

"Hey, listen to—" he begins, but it's obvious Tooru hardly hears him. His eyes are glassy, mouth partly open, blood streaming down his nose and dripping into the water surrounding them. "Oikawa, listen!" Iwaizumi shakes him, but that hardly gets a stir. They're about to fall into the biggest part, and the way it's shimmering, Iwaizumi begins to worry about it being something worse than water.

"Do something!" Miyanoshita squeals from behind them.

"Stop breaking the fucking world, dumbass!" Iwaizumi roars, patience snapped. He braces himself, rears back, and headbutts Tooru.

The water above them pops with a crack of thunder, drowning out Tooru's yelp, and then they're falling downward again, at least.

Tooru whimpers again when they flop onto the ground—now grasses as soft as silk—and Iwaizumi rubs his tender forehead. "That's so rude," Tooru sulks, sounding halfway normal, even if his voice is too loud.

The not-water from above rains down on them and it sizzles grass and skin alike.

Iwaizumi pulls the grass up into a hardened umbrella above them. "Welcome to the Dreamlands," he deadpans as the other two scrub at their burned skin. "The less you think here, the better. That goes double for the jackass who brought us here."

"What did I do!"

"Whose idea was it to share dreams?!"

"Please, could you two have the lover's spat later?" Miyanoshita breaks in before either can gain momentum. Tooru huffs; Iwaizumi just continues staring at the rain. "I want answers, and then we can start to figure out what went wrong and how to get out of here."

"The Dreamlands are another realm. It's affected by thoughts and dreams, so bringing a psychic here is a stupid-ass thing to do." He does not add anything about the last time Tooru had been here. Tooru flinches anyway, and the rain stops, replaced by harsh sunlight and wisps of steam. "We need to get out of here before this implodes." He's not sure if this refers to the space around them or Tooru's head. He doesn't wish for either.

"Okay, but how do we leave, then? You know a way out?"

"Actually—"

Tooru's head droops, and in the same moment, the ground beneath them changes abruptly into what can only be described as goop. They splash into it, struggling to stay afloat, and Iwaizumi flails for Tooru before the man slips under entirely.

Iwaizumi concentrates. Come back to me, he prays, hoping all his instincts haven't totally left him. He has no hope of fighting Tooru's panic here, but it doesn't mean he's powerless; he focuses on the thought of wings. He's had so many pairs, and just because he doesn't have any pelts with him does not mean he doesn't remember how they feel.

It's less the wings and more the flight that finally frees him. He kicks off the remaining sludge sticking to his feet, twisting in the air, and finds Miyanoshita, in baku form, slipping under. He nearly gets stuck again, inadvertently somersaulting through the air when he thrusts his arms back in to grab her, and they flip back over when she comes free with a pop.

She clings to him like a terrified cat, claws extended and fur on end, but Iwaizumi hardly notices as he twists back around to look for Tooru.

The ground beneath them is solid again, crystalline, hard blue like glass. The sky overhead drips pale yellow and begins to heat like the desert summer he's missed so much. There's not even a tuft of that stupid perfect hair left to show where Tooru had disappeared to.

-.-.-

Tendou finds Wakatoshi arguing with himself.

Wakatoshi sighs through his nose, mouth snapping shut half a heartbeat too late to stop the matagot from cocking his head to the side. He'd wanted to avoid further incident with Northot's possession—he hesitates to call it embarrassment, but it's hellishly close. He has faith that he can still come out of this ahead, but the journey thus far has been frighteningly unprofessional of him.

He's normally so much better with jobs.

He wishes Tendou and Shirabu could have seen that.

"Brain bug bothering you again?" Tendou asks, ears folded down in mock sympathy. Wakatoshi assumes it's mock. He's still figuring out how many human emotions he can ascribe to nonhuman spirits. Shirabu certainly seems to act more in line with what he expects, but Tendou consistently surprises him. Not always in a good way.

Northot's laugh curls around him like smoke. "It isn't anything to worry over. My employer wishes to drag this out, despite its best interests."

"I wish to see this trick of yours, yhafh'drn," Northot replies. Wakatoshi's eye twitches. "Come, let me see these thoughts put into action. "

"It seems to be under the impression that I can open realm doors at will," Wakatoshi adds for Tendou's sake.

"That'd be a useful trick. Think of all of the things you could steal if you could just travel wherever, whenever…" He trails off with a wistful look and swish of his tail. Wakatoshi notes that it still seems to be broken, or, at least, kinked. "Ah, we could go between goblin markets so much faster. I bet it would be a day trip to shove you into the Seine."

"I thought you wanted to show me the Seine."

"So why does The Thing That Should Not Be think you can make realm doors?"

"Give voice to your thoughts. I wish to hear you reveal your plots to your dear ones," Northot hisses above his repetition of its title.

"…It doesn't matter," Wakatoshi says, to Northot's vocal delight and Tendou's visible disappointment. "I still need to figure out a few things, anyway. The fact remains that I cannot make any on my own, much less open a portal to Tartarus without help."

"Is that where the nephilim are?" Tendou asks, and Wakatoshi is reminded of how recently Tendou came into his life. The last time he went hunting for nephilim, Kageyama had been with him.

It'd been different, working with another witch. There were certain advantages, but Tendou also came with his own advantages, so Wakatoshi is sure this isn't a net loss. (Wakatoshi definitely does not miss Kageyama's attitude or his familiar. The boy's youth worked against them more than once too, but Wakatoshi does not fault him for his age. He likes to think he's not that petty.) (Most of the time.)

Instead of answering, Wakatoshi asks, "Is wealth really that important to you? I know you want gold, but…" But Kageyama had had his own reasons to want power (and money); Wakatoshi is at least self-aware enough to realize that it'd be rude to compare them aloud any further.

"I haven't quite worked out the details of what I want, outside obscene amounts of money," Tendou easily admits, casting his eyes to the side. He almost looks at Northot's hazy figure. "What isn't there to want when you have a god indebted to you? But I'm also very curious about what you want."

"This isn't something to undertake lightly. People could die because of this." Northot huffs at his 'could'. "We already have to find two more spirits to sacrifice."

Tendou shrugs, completely unperturbed. "They were going to die anyway because of you, right? Me being here doesn't affect anything. So it's not really me killing them."

Wakatoshi would be insulted if he hadn't already come to terms with the cost of his actions long ago. It was really only going to be the sacrifices for the summoning, and he was using the types of spirits who would normally be taken out anyway. (Certain annoying luck spirits aside.) "Then, you're not bothered that I'm killing others?"

"Like you haven't done it before?" Tendou scoffs.

"How much is a single life worth to you now?" asks the many-horned figure in his peripherals.

Wakatoshi grumpily doesn't answer either of them.

-.-.-

Daichi is talking, but Suga doesn't process it. He's warm, for once, cocooned happily in all of the blankets on the bed. Sunshine is still sleeping against the back of his knees, too. It's nice. And he doesn't have to think about anything else if he's asleep, right?

But slowly, things start to penetrate his hazy brain.

Things like "I spoke to Kiyoko" and "away for a few days" and "could be good for you". Well, mostly the first one, because Kiyoko is the last thing Suga wants to think about. There goes his happy mood. He hates being mad at her, no matter how justified he is.

Suga blinks open an eye, peering up at Daichi, noting that he's already gotten dressed and shaved. There's pale winter sunlight in the room, but he can't tell what time it is. The apartment smells faintly of bacon. "…Whaddid you do?" Suga mumbles through the blanket half-covering his face.

"Oh, awake now?" Daichi asks with a smile. He prods Suga's shoulder, firmly, then leans down to give him a peck on the hair. "Good morning, starshine."

"God, you're old."

"Grumpy in the morning?"

"Time?"

"Almost ten," Daichi supplies, and Suga groans in outrage. "You don't want to know what all I've already done this morning, then."

"No," Suga grumps. "…What'd you do to Kiyoko."

"We spoke last night, and again this morning." (Suga wishes he felt a different kind of apprehension at the thought of his best friend and boyfriend talking behind his back.) "And, long story short, she agrees with me. You need a break from this. An actual vacation." Daichi taps Suga's cast through the blanket—it feels abruptly like a ball and chain. If Daichi starts believing in Kiyoko's version of well-meaning, they might have issues in the future.

Especially considering last night.

Through a herculean effort, Suga props himself up to better regard Daichi. "What did Kiyoko say about last night?"

"I talked her out of going through everything last night, since you were already passed out in my bed," Daichi replies, eyebrow raised. "She offered to help you re-ward everything. Because you need her for the witch stuff? I'm not clear on the details, but you can sort them out later. We mostly spoke about getting you out of the city for awhile."

The last part doesn't process since priority is given to Kiyoko's offer. Suga frowns at the pillow and wonders; Kiyoko is a remarkably composed person, but she's not a particularly good actress. And she's not a liar.

But he can count the number of people who could use angel magic on one hand. Kenma would probably die if he used that much, and he's not even in their realm right now, anyway. Suga can't actually use it himself—or, at the very least, hasn't yet.

He sincerely hopes no one else is this kind of threat. And the timing of it; the only things stolen were his research books.

Does she want to keep me out of trouble? Suga wonders. "Wait, out of the city? Where? Why?"

"I always visit my family for the end of the year," Daichi replies, and Suga gapes at him. "It'd just be for a few days—they live a couple hours away, it's like a five hour drive. We can stay in a cabin at my aunt and uncle's place."

Meet Daichi's family? In a fucking cabin? Suga, born and bred city boy, getting dragged out into the boondocks to meet his relatively new boyfriend's family and stay with them for a few days.

And it's a drive.

Right. Suga swallows and pretends his heart isn't thumping its way up his throat. "Um." Real smooth. He swallows again, tears his eyes away from Daichi's earnestly hopeful expression, and studies the wrinkles in the pillow that he just wants to fall asleep on once more. "…Why?" he ends up repeating.

"For a break."

"And you want… me. To meet your family."

"I've brought friends home before. Ennoshita's stayed with me over the new year before," Daichi reassures, but it has the opposite of the intended effect, since Suga fixates on the 'friends' bit.

He can't comfortably ask Daichi about his family life since he more or less doesn't exist to his parents anymore. He doesn't want to volunteer that information right now, not the dirty specifics, and not when Daichi is so kindly offering this to Suga.

He's brought out of his spiraling ruminations by Daichi giving his hair a sharp tug. "Hey!" Suga swats at him, more surprised than anything else.

"You were getting that look on your face," Daichi informs him.

"What look?"

"The 'Overthinking Things' look."

"Is that something else Tooru warned you about?" Suga asks without real ire. He rubs at his head and scoots a little further away from Daichi to prevent more hair abuse.

"No, that one I picked up on my own. You can say no, you know." Daichi takes the freed space as an invitation (the metaphor is not lost on Suga) and he lays back down next to him, chin propped up on one hand while the other reaches over to play with the blankets near Suga's hand. "I can skip out this year, it's no big deal."

It only now occurs that there'd been a possibility of Daichi leaving him for a few days, and that Daichi had been concerned. "I can't let you do that," Suga replies, shaking his head, "you should see your family. You only see them once a year?"

"Plus weddings and special events. It's not a big deal though, Suga. Other things come up in life, and my parents are pretty understanding—"

Suga does not want to be a thing that Comes Up in Daichi's life, derailing his life plans any more than he already has. "We can go," he says.

Daichi doesn't hide his surprise. "That was a fast turnaround. I seriously didn't mean it as any sort of attempt to guilt you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, but, you know. Maybe some space would be a good idea." He could put off confronting Kiyoko then, or at the very least give himself some more time to think about how to approach that. "We'd be back by the new year, right?"

"Probably on the first or so, why?"

"I have to be back by the first," Suga says. "It's—it was Asahi's birthday. Noya and I…" They don't have concrete plans, but he knows they're going to do something.

"Sure, that works," Daichi replies gently. He finally puts his hand over Suga's, giving him a squeeze. "If you want, you don't have to do the whole parents thing. My aunt usually doesn't sell me out when I visit, so we could just lie low and enjoy the great outdoors."

The great outdoors in late December. Suga snorts despite himself. "I know the city's weather has been pretty messed up, but isn't that getting out into blizzard country?"

"I can drive in snow," Daichi replies, affronted, and Suga chuckles nervously.

-.-.-

Kenma's feet hurt and he's cold, but Kuro drapes himself over him, making small, purr-like sounds into his ear. Despite his size, he's not actually a good heater, but at least they're in the human realm again. Bonus: they're in the right time zone, too, since Futakuchi had laughingly tried to drop them off in Greece earlier.

He's exhausted, physically and emotionally, so he makes it to Lev's apartment largely on autopilot. It's a little safer in the city to have Kuro out, which is good, since he stays braced by Kenma's side. It's reassuring in a way Kenma can't fully articulate. What's even more reassuring right now is that Kuro hasn't tried to press anything else—nothing about kissing, or feelings, or relationships, or tengu, or anything.

Still, Kenma's tired, and not at all prepared for when the door is flung open and Kenma finds himself staring up into mismatched eyes. Even if the height and silver hair are mostly what he's looking for.

"Котенок!" Alisa cheers and yanks him inside.

Kuro is left outside for a moment, blinking in his shock, and Alisa processes the figure behind Kenma in the same beat.

"Kenma!" Lev to the rescue. He more or less collides bodily with Kenma, which is almost too much but he's too warm and familiar for Kenma to push him away. He melts into his heat with a pleased sound, letting the taller man lift him off of his aching feet. "Why are you in your pajamas? Did you already take off your shoes? Alisa, let Kuro in!"

"Kuro?" Alisa echoes, head cocked. Kenma is very grateful that Kuro had been settled.

A tan cat meows and winds his way through Lev's legs, staring up at Kenma in too-sharp curiosity.

Alright, maybe they were lucky Kuro had looked human with Alisa's sudden appearance. "Kuroo Tetsurou," Kuroo supplies, catching himself and giving Alisa a stunningly roguish grin.

"Haiba Alisa," she replies with only the faintest of pink on her cheeks. (Kenma is fairly sure that his own cheeks are darker.) "You're one of Kenma's friends?"

Don't you dare say—

"A little more than friend," Kuro declares proudly. Lev coos and Morisuke, at their feet, lays his ears flat against his skull in clear disapproval. Kenma facepalms.

"Kenma?" Lev prompts in a too-loud whisper.

"We're definitely dating now," Kuro continues as explanation. Kenma wants to sink through the floor. He wonders if this is karmic retribution for being so relieved about Kuro's silence earlier.

"I didn't know you had friends other than Лёвочка. You've always been so quiet," Alisa says, nothing but sincerity in her tone, and Kenma knows his face only gets redder. "But I'm so glad to see you again! It feels like it's been too long."

"That's because Masha's still pissed at him," Lev says.

"Yes, but you shouldn't be scared of her," Alisa says cheerfully, despite the fact that Kenma firmly believes he should be very afraid of their aunt. "I'm only in town once every couple of months, so I need to see you more often! You and Lev are so cute for each other."

Morisuke makes a noise like someone stepped on him, and in unison, Lev and Alisa pan up to stare at Kuro. He only shrugs. "I guess so?"

Kenma doesn't want to discuss this, not with Kuro, and certainly not with the Haiba siblings. (Poor Morisuke.) He wiggles until Lev sets him down, and tries not to wince at his sore feet. "Um, I have a favor, Lev," he says, changing the subject, and Lev is already nodding. "Can we stay the night tonight? And, uh, borrow some clothes…"

"Mine might fit a little better," Alisa offers sympathetically, despite the fact that she's nearly as tall as Kuro. Kenma just sighs and nods. He's far too tired for this.

He gets a short reprieve when Lev excuses them to let Kenma change, and he flops facedown onto Lev's bed with a groan. Morisuke jumps up onto the bed with a similar sigh. "You're a cat?" Kenma asks, muffled.

"She stopped by unannounced, and Lev is—well, you know. A pretty terrible liar."

"So mean!" Lev says, popping out of his closet to stick his tongue out at them both.

Morisuke gives him a flat look, but Lev hardly notices. "Since we couldn't pass me off as Anya's little cat, I'm now Lev's pet."

Kuro snickers.

"Don't you start with me, demon," Morisuke hisses. Kuro puts his hands up in mock surrender, and Lev throws a pair of pants at his face. "But what happened with you two? I thought you would still be with the tengu. You obviously haven't been back to your own place…"

"We're feeling better, but still crappy enough that we didn't want to risk it. Which is why we're now asking for favors here," Kuro replies. Kenma nods into the bed covers, even if the wording sets his nerves on edge.

"You're always welcome here!" Lev declares as he reemerges from the closet with what are likely the smallest clothes he owns. Kenma still eyes them skeptically. "But…"

"But?"

"I'm having a family get-together tomorrow," Lev tells them like a kicked puppy. "It's why Alisa's here—and Aunt Masha won't be happy to know that you've been hanging around with us. At least, not without an explanation?" He says the last part hopefully, and Kenma nearly feels guilty for having to shake his head.

"Where will you go?" Morisuke asks.

Neither Kenma nor Kuro answer him, for too-long of a moment.

"Figures," the cat huffs and Kenma isn't exactly sure what figures—Kenma usually thinks things through and it's not as if Morisuke is privy to many of Kenma's (many) mistakes lately—but he feels vaguely insulted anyway. "I guess you'll just have to stay with Tadashi and Kei."

"…What?" Kenma asks, covering Kuro's startled "Ehh?"

"Should you volunteer others' places?" Lev asks, squinting at him.

Morisuke just scoffs. "Like you're one to talk? And they can't stay with me—sorry—my home can't be accessed through normal means. I don't think any of you need a trip through multiple realms."

"Can I visit? I don't mind going through multiple realms." Lev is grinning, bright and eager and as adorably clueless as ever, and Kenma is very thankful for the distraction he makes for Morisuke.

Kenma really doesn't want to try to think of how to handle that situation. He owes Tadashi (and Kei, if he must) most of a dragon's worth of payment, and he hasn't delivered. Not that he minds not getting his cut, but the dragon then makes him think of Bokuto and how antsy he'd been to do that, and none of this is a train of thought Kenma wants to board.

"We can find a hotel," Kenma interrupts. Morisuke turns from Lev, expression soured in an instant. Kenma braces himself for more haughty concern, and he's certainly not disappointed.

"You're going to go scuttle off on your own again?"

"We just need to recuperate."

Morisuke sighs, far too heavily for his cat form. It comes off as absurd. "Cats go off alone when they're in pain to lick their wounds, to know they're safe. Even if there are other safe spaces for them. So I understand your drive here, I really do."

Kenma won't argue about being compared to a cat. Maybe it's flattering, coming from a cat spirit. "But I'm not leaving, or… licking my wounds," he grumbles.

"You're just going to steal another hotel room and fill it with more hazardous magical materials instead?" he asks archly.

"How about you mind your own business for once?" Kuro butts in. He's not sneering yet, but he's close, and Lev looks nervously between the two. "If you're so worried about him being alone, you don't have to, because he's got me—"

"That's exactly what I'm worried about! He was left alone with you and he nearly died!" Morisuke snaps back.

"Hey!"

"That was—"

"A demon, leashed or not, needs supervision if not banishment," the bakeneko hisses, fur slowly raising, teeth bared, "and you have no right dragging Kenma through hell while your contract is still active."

"So you're going to shove us in with Freckles and Tsukki? You have a really shitty way of caring about someone, cat," Kuro retorts. Before Kenma can stop him and despite the connected pull on their exhausted bodies, Kuro steps up onto shadows, making himself longer, taller, fingers beginning to drip into claws. "You're going to shove me at them? Using them as scapegoats for the big, nasty demon, to keep me away from other meals?"

When his eyes, already lighter and brighter as the rest of him continues shifting back into demonic darkness, dart up to look at Lev, Kenma knows that's a step too far.

Morisuke outright snarls at him, fire popping into life above him, and Kenma grabs at Kuro to either yank him back or put himself between them.

But Lev beats them all to the punch.

He grabs Morisuke out of the air mid-leap, heedless of the flames and claws and Kuro still looming over them. Lev squashes Morisuke against his chest, like he's trying to smother him into quieting down, and snaps, with surprising heat of his own, "Прекратите драться!"

Kenma pulls Kuro back, just to make sure there's no fight. Morisuke squirms a couple times in Lev's arms, hind feet kicking at air as he's left to dangle, and the fire dies out. "That was stupid," he says flatly, "you could've burnt yourself! Idiot."

"You're the idiot, picking fights in a house that's not yours," Lev scolds. He doesn't laugh this off like usual, and Kenma watches them both with a guarded expression as Lev carries the cat over to drop back onto his bed. Lev only reverts back into a smile when he catches Kenma's eye. "Sorry! That's how Yaku shows that he cares. …I think. He's not really trying to get anyone eaten by Kuro."

"Of course not!"

"They're too scrawny to eat, anyway," Kuro says, and Kenma elbows him for the very poorly-timed joke.

Morisuke lays his ears flat, opens his mouth to respond, then closes it a moment later. It takes a beat, but eventually he forces out, "It's not that I'm playing favorites, it's that Tadashi could banish you but Lev can't use that kind of magic. I'm sorry for letting my temper get the better of me."

And with that, he disappears with a pop.

"Oh no, was he sulking?" Lev asks in dismay, frowning at the empty spot. "Was he sulking because of me?"

"No, I guess he just really doesn't like it if I insinuate that he likes you too much." Kuro sighs and drops fully back into a settled form with a small thump. "Sorry, man. Not like I'm happy about being the bogeyman, either."

"Too much?" Lev repeats blankly.

"Uhh," Kuro intelligently replies, seeming to realize what he's just said only then. Kenma sighs.

"You think it's too much?" Lev asks through his fingers, eyes nearly comically wide. (Kenma's sigh turns into more of a snort, that he quickly tries to hide as a cough.) "How is it too much? I don't think it's enough, but he's never left like that before! That doesn't mean too much, does it?"

"Lev," Kenma breaks in before that can get any worse, "I don't think you should listen to Kuro or any, um, romantic advice he has. We're sorry for chasing him off, but he should be back tomorrow, right…?"

"Hopefully," Kuro says and Kenma elbows him again, harder. "Hey! I already said sorry!"

"It's fine," Lev replies. Kenma can't actually tell if he means it or not. "…But, um, do you really think he thinks he likes me too much, Kenma? He's never complained before! Not even when I kissed him!"

Kenma and Kuro gape. For the first time in what feels like forever, Kenma is suddenly aware of what an impact the supernatural has had on Lev's life—and how much he's missed lately in his friend's life.

"He was a cat at the time," Lev explains, and that does not make it any better. "It wasn't on the mouth!" he finally adds, and Kuro laughs into his hands. "Anya was making me kiss Katya goodnight and I thought it'd be a good time to… But what if that was too much for him? If we're having a sleepover tonight, then we need to discuss this. And then your dating life, too." Lev's gaze darts over to the cackling demon, and Kenma can feel the ick face coming on.

"You don't get to say anything about mine when you just admitted to kissing a cat."

"It was on the forehead!" Lev wails.

-.-.-

Iwaizumi doesn't think about his steps. The fire doesn't burn him, but it's an uncomfortable, ghostly feeling in his feet, and he'd rather avoid dwelling on these half-sensations that are so common for him in the Dreamlands. He hadn't missed them. Miyanoshita squirms on his back, also doing her best not to look at the flames beneath them, even though he's told her numerous times already that it won't hurt them so long as they believe it won't.

She's new to this, he reminds himself. He tightens his hold on her thighs, a warning, and she stops wiggling for the moment. "We're almost out of here," he tells her. Miyanoshita makes a noise against the back of his neck to let him know she heard.

Even though he can dismiss the fire, he cannot escape the heat, and he's sweating by the time they're done slogging through the fire swamp. Miyanoshita hops off him, brows drawn up in worry; she still looks frazzled. One of her pigtails had fallen out long ago, and the rest of her hair is held up in a single ponytail, though her hair is too thick to remain in it. The end result is that her black hair is halfway tied back, the rest of it matted down against her face and neck, stuck there by a mixture of sweat and goo from the sinkhole they'd fallen into earlier.

Iwaizumi rakes a hand back through his hair and finds the remains in his, too. Disgusting. Both their clothes are torn, and he already has blood staining his tank top from an over-friendly nightgaunt that appeared almost immediately after the area had stabilized again after Tooru's disappearance.

At least we're out of nightgaunt territory now, he tells himself. It's about the only silver lining. "How are you doing?" he asks.

Despite her disheveled appearance and extreme worry, the baku breaks into a smile that shows off her teeth. "We'll get out of this."

It's surprisingly optimistic, and Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. Not that he blames her for it, but she's been pretty damn vocal about her displeasure.

Then, her smile turns wry and horrifically sharp. She adds, "You and Oikawa got us into this, so I'm sure putting you two back together can bail us out again. I don't know how, but it'll work."

"…I don't know how, either," he admits. Miyanoshita sighs, shrugs, and lashes her tufted tail.

The pair get going again, and as they slowly move further and further into gug territory and Iwaizumi grows progressively more paranoid, he tries to think of any solution. She has a point, as far as Tooru being the key to getting out of here. Probably.

Even if he's not a dreamer right now—and thank fuck he's not possessed by an angel again—Tooru should be wildly powerful in the Dreamlands. Iwaizumi hadn't wanted to figure out exactly how a physical clairvoyant works here, but surely there will be some opportunity to abuse that power to get out of here. But… how. That's what's sticks, especially since he's not sure how they wound up here in the first place.

Lucid dreaming, plus psychic, plus baku, plus… me? He doesn't understand dreams, or sharing them. Miyanoshita had only given him a blank look when he'd asked earlier. Butsomething about mixing all of this together had pushed them out of the human realm and back into this shithole, so coming back together should hypothetically give them all the ingredients to get back again.

But with Tooru being a semi-conscious timebomb here, he's not sure how they're going to get the chance to figure it out.

What's the backup plan? What's the alternative? comes a dark, hateful part of himself. Iwaizumi struggles to shut it out. Its voice drops into something resembling a purr—resembling the deep void of a voice that his master used, and Iwaizumi braces against the thought even before it's fully formed. You can survive here on your own. They can't. They're dead weight.

That's probably true, the first part of it. Ptar-Axtlan may have sheltered him and protected its own forcibly-taken space here, but Iwaizumi has moved through these lands on his own. He knows what to avoid, how to fight here, how to use the laws here to his advantage. It's not something you can teach a spirit in a matter of…

How long have we been here? Iwaizumi thinks suddenly, panicked. Time flows differently here. He's made it rain twice now to give them water, but neither of them have eaten or slept, and who knows what the fuck Tooru has been doing. He's probably drawing everything in half the realm to him.

They've been here too long, and they've been separated for too long. Time is going to fuck them over, and if they lose their psychic, then it's game over.

No, I can't lose Tooru. It doesn't matter if he can help—I can't lose him. We'll figure something else out.

Fuck, fuck. Iwaizumi is supposed to be helping them both, and instead he's lost his lover and is probably leading Miyanoshita to an early grave. Tooru is going to die here if they don't get to him. They're going to die here if he can't get a way out. He doesn't even know how to make a fucking way out himself—he's not Sugawara, not some sort of abominable necromancer, nor is he a deity twisting the laws of this place to suit himself.

The muddy ground crumbles beneath them like so much sand, and Iwaizumi suddenly understands his racing thoughts and thundering heart.

A great, twisting being rises up next to them and extends its wings in a display of aggression. Miyanoshita shrieks at its shifting appearance, and despite how almost used to these things Iwaizumi is, he finds himself shaking down to his core. "Th-That's a— fuck!" Iwaizumi does not get to explanations before the thing crashes down beside them, aiming to latch onto either of them with its many gnashing jaws.

He doesn't see Miyanoshita for a long moment, and his throat feels close to collapsing. His lungs have shriveled to nothing; he's too terrified to properly breathe, so Iwaizumi just stares at the wriggling mass of scales and hate in front of him.

The baku collides with his side and they both hit the ground as one of its wings slice over where his head had just been.

"Move!" Miyanoshita shouts, giving him another shove.

"That's a hunting horror," Iwaizumi replies in a trembling voice. He tries to swallow, fails, and forces out in a croak, "We can't fight it. We have to run."

"Sounds good to me!" she says and once again tries to tug him up onto his feet. She doesn't get it, though—hunting horrors are fast and tenacious, not to mention the fact that they can fly. There's nothing around here they can use for cover, unless they throw themselves into the fire swamp, but they won't last long there regardless of how much they believe they're safe. They can't outrun it. But they can't fight.

"Where," the hunting horror impossibly hisses from too many mouths, "where is your master."

The ugly voice in the back of his head springs back to life through the layers of crushing fear.

And he finally recognizes it. Why have you gone from me, yhri?

"No—no no—" He's unaware he's moaning, curled up with his face pressed into his knees. He cannot deal with Ptar-Axtlan's voice in his head again. "It's dead! Ynawgah'n! N'gha Ptar-Axtlan haiog, haiog, ynawgah'n, ftaghu naflfm'latgh…!"

He thinks he hears Miyanoshita shout again, this time in pain, but the hunting horror before them does not recoil at his words. He senses more than sees itr lean over him, wings spread once more, twisting and coiling within itself.

But the beast's fear tactic ultimately works against itself, because there are bigger things to fear in life.

This time, Miyanoshita's scream is right in his ear, and he feels her icy-cold touch at his shoulder. Iwaizumi uncurls, if only to look up at why the hunting horror is suddenly gone.

There is a smear of utter blackness, devoid of light or color or any solidity, quadrupedal and tailed. It's taller at the shoulder than Iwaizumi, perhaps even taller than Tooru, but the way it sucks the color out of everything around it makes it seem larger still. The empty silhouette turns on them, and the only thing to break up the darkness within it are two bright spots where its eyes should be. It does not blink.

"Yhri," Ptar-Axtlan sighs.

Miyanoshita throws a sleep spell at it. Iwaizumi doesn't even see the magic rebound. It sloughs off, dripping like paint, and the feline rears up on hind legs to tower over them. Raised, Iwaizumi can see the hunting horror on Ptar-Axtlan's other side, writhing like so many injured snakes, one wing broken beneath it.

"You're dead," Iwaizumi says. He knows this to be fact, and he knows that the thing in front of him cannot be The Leopard That Stalks The Night. (The remains of his rational mind point out that he does not feel the memetic infection any longer with the title.)

But who actually knew?

It was too easy to kill. It's possessed me—maybe there were remnants left in my mind. It's one of his latent fears, easy to ignore in daily life, but far harder to ignore late at night or when apparent proof is standing before them. It has to be dead. It has to be, has to be, hastobehastobehastobe—

Since Iwaizumi is so much dead weight, Miyanoshita stands in front of him, claws and tusks bared. She's smaller like this, on all fours, and it's not as if baku are known for particular fighting skills.

But she's trying.

And Iwaizumi isn't.

"Relying on outside help again?" Ptar-Axtlan asks with a curl of its tail. It spares one glance over its shoulder at the hunting horror, then paces around in a circle, no longer between them. "You work best when working with others, yhri. But where is your psychic?"

"Stay back!" Miyanoshita snarls, short fur raised along her back.

"I have little need of a baku," Ptar-Axtlan says and raises a formless paw.

Miyanoshita backpedals with a squeak and Iwaizumi's fight or flight finally pulls from the freeze. He grabs her by the scruff of the neck, pulls her out of the range of the swipe, and stands protectively between them. He doesn't have skins here, or even teeth or claws or magic of his own, but he faces the memory of Ptar-Axtlan all the same.

Ptar-Axtlan laughs at the defiance, then promptly explodes.

The bits of nothingness fade away as they fall around them. Iwaizumi's ears ring, and Miyanoshita is digging her claws into his arm with strength he's surprised she possesses. They stare, mute and terrified, as Oikawa Tooru alights on the ground in front of them.

Grasses and meadow flowers spring up from where he touches, waist-high in seconds, and the temperature takes an abrupt turn to match. By the time Ptar-Axtlan is completely gone (again), the sky overhead has turned into a friendly, pale yellow, there are glittering blue butterflies all around them, and Tooru cuts off the remaining uninjured wing of the hunting horror.

"Thank god I found you both," Tooru says. His weak voice is at odds with his appearance—he's dripping white flames from his hands and there is a literal golden glow to him, haloing him and adding a rosy luster to his skin.

He takes two steps and collapses on the third. Miyanoshita is close enough to catch him with a low, "Woah, easy there."

Iwaizumi has already backed up several paces. His shoulders are up around his ears and he still wants to flee. The hunting horror is still alive, if maimed, and thrashes in agony behind Tooru (not that the psychic seems to care).

He knows it's not real, not the truth, but he's also seen Tooru kill the same god twice, and the last time didn't turn out so well for Iwaizumi.

"Iwa-chan," Tooru murmurs, "you okay?"

Tooru isn't standing on his own and his fire has gone out. Iwaizumi can now see the sheen of sweat covering his face, and there's faded, dried blood on his upper lip like he's wiped away countless nosebleeds. He's a wreck, and Iwaizumi is shocked he made it this far on his own.

And he's asking about Iwaizumi. Right.

"We're safe now," Miyanoshita says, though it comes off like a guess. "You can calm down now. It'll be okay. And look, we found Oikawa!"

"I found you," he retorts. Tooru sighs and droops, and his eyelashes flutter. Miyanoshita helps him sit among the meadow grasses; now, instead of springing up beneath his touch, they fade away, crumbling into fine sand the color of his dragon pelt. "Iwa-chan, please," Tooru says, voice dropping further, and it's little more than a moan now. "You're okay now. We're okay. Please."

"It was a fear thrall," Iwaizumi replies, rubbing at his arms. He feels weak and useless and still terribly afraid, and he hates that the last part of that is directed squarely at Tooru. "I-I need a moment." He needs a lot of moments.

"I don't think we have a moment," Miyanoshita tells him. "Oikawa, could you, um, maybe stop turning everything into goo again?"

"Sure, if you two stop thinking for… a little while…" Tooru trails off with a groan; the sand beneath them has become bubblegum pink gunk. "It's okay," he repeats weakly. "'m okay."

"You stay here, I-I need to get away from him," Iwaizumi says. He backs away before Miyanoshita can protest, and with every instinct he has screaming at him to flee, he finally gives in.

-.-.-

"Please ignore him," Keiji says with a small bow.

"Is that a bruise?" the other guard asks, face largely hidden by her helmet, but Keiji can hear the incredulity in her voice. "You two get into some sort of fight?"

"Not us," Keiji replies under their breath and turns back to standing at attention. It's easy for them to ignore one Bokuto Koutarou clinging to their leg, dejected episode in full swing, if admittedly for a good reason (this time). Keiji, personally, finds it easier to stay angry right now. Angry at Kenma, angry at Kuroo for going with Kenma, angry at stupid guard duty. (Angry at themselves for being angry at everything else. Keiji does not do true anger particularly well.)

Koutarou lays his head against Keiji's thigh, rubbing his uninjured cheek against the armor. He hasn't spoken much, but now he's making little, sad, pathetic sounds. More for attention rather than out of any genuine sorrow, Keiji knows.

"Is he… gonna be like that this entire watch?" the other guard asks.

"Probably," Keiji replies flatly. "Please ignore him," they repeat. Koutarou is on their other side from the second guard, and Keiji is going to keep it that way, but it doesn't mean he's exactly hidden.

Koutarou makes another tiny whine and shuffles so he's leaning more of his weight against Keiji's leg. Keiji shifts their balance, leaning against him so they don't both fall over, and Koutarou just takes it as further invitation. By the time Keiji loses their patience and yanks him back by the hair, Koutarou has both arms and legs wrapped around Keiji's leg, half-sitting on their foot, far too much like a toddler with a parent.

Except he's a toddler that's larger than Keiji, and they're on duty, for crying out loud. "Koutarou, behave," they hiss, incredibly aware of the other tengu snickering behind her claws at them.

"I don't wanna be alone," Koutarou mumbles. "But I guess everyone wants to leave, huh."

Not right now, Keiji mentally groans. While Keiji normally bends over backwards to get out of guard duty, the Akaashi family has a long and proud history as guards, so when they do get unfortunately pressed into it, they'd really like a better air of professionalism. Not a depressed mate who refuses to let go of their armor or tail feathers like a child instead of the adult warrior that he is.

"I'll just go back to my place…" Koutarou says sadly and begins detaching his limbs with a slowness that lets Keiji know exactly how much he doesn't want to leave.

"Aw, let him stay, he's not hurting anyone," the other guard coos.

"He could at least get dressed and join us properly," Keiji replies thinly. "Or you could go bother Komi at the stall in the market."

"Kenma could be there," Koutarou whispers like the tiny witch is now some sort of bogeyman. Keiji rolls their eyes. They wish they didn't have a helmet on so Koutarou would know just how much Keiji is rolling their eyes today. It's been a lot.

"I could go and find them both for you—"

"No!"

And that's about as well as any conversation about what had happened has gone so far. Keiji doesn't want to lose their patience—it's so much easier to stay angry with Kenma and Kuroo instead—but Koutarou is, as always, trying their patience dearly.

And then the other guard asks, "Who're you talking about, Bokuto? Some kind of spat?"

Keiji anticipates another outburst, or worse, a deeper slump. But they're all interrupted when Suzumeda swoops down from overhead. The two guards jump a little; Koutarou just groans and buries his face down in Keiji's thigh again. "Hello," she greets with a raised hand. "I've been looking for Bokuto."

"Why?" Keiji asks guardedly.

Suzumeda surveys them for a moment, frowning just the smallest bit. "The witch and demon were your guests, weren't they?" she asks after a pause.

"The what," the other guard echoes.

Keiji cuts across with a sharp, "And?"

"You know them?" Koutarou asks, perking up.

Suzumeda crouches down to his level, her wings halfway unfolded behind her for balance. Keiji's lip curls at the sight, unable to help themselves. (The last time they'd seen white, detached wings on someone, they had been stealing Koutarou's egg.) "I found the witch nearly collapsed yesterday, out in the street. The demon claimed he was a tengu friend."

"He is!" Koutarou says at once. "But what do you mean—"

"They both seemed to be exhausted and had trouble breathing. It looked like they were running from something. Is everything okay?" Suzumeda asks, frowning more seriously now. Her eyes are on the bruise on Koutarou's cheek, and Keiji doesn't like that.

"We're fine," they answer for him. They like Suzumeda just fine, though Koutarou is closer with her (Koutarou is closer with everyone, it feels like at times), but speaking to a spirit of justice about this seems like maybe not the best of ideas. They're already irked that she knows Kuroo is a demon.

Suzumeda puts a hand on Koutarou's shoulder and says nothing else. Keiji hopes Koutarou's expression isn't half as guilt as they think it is, but they can't see from this angle.

-.-.-

Iwaizumi carries Tooru, who slips in and out of consciousness. The immediate area around them changes to reflect his state; Iwaizumi does his best to keep things stable enough to traipse onward, but fuck if the psychic doesn't make it easy. Miyanoshita floats along beside them when she can, but Iwaizumi can tell she's flagging, too. None of them know how long they've been here. He can keep going for days out here, but they can't.

There are nerves thrumming beneath his thoughts, probably leftover from the thrall. He's still mad at himself for that, too, but he can dwell on it when they're not all in danger anymore.

There's nowhere here that they'll be safe. He shakes his head to rid himself of the traitorous thought. Even if it is fucking true.

Iwaizumi may have lost his edge, but his body and mind still remember the Dreamlands, as acclimated as he was. The other two are not used to it. There's no rough and fast course to give them, either, and come to think of it, he himself can't actually remember how long it took for him to get used to it. And he had a demigod looking out for him, as twisted as it had been.

Don't think about the fucking cat, he tells himself. The thrall may be gone, but he doesn't need to spawn another living nightmare. They don't need to test how strong his memory would be.

"Where are we going?" Miyanoshita asks, dropping to the ground with a whine.

"Where I used to live." I guess. It's as much where he lived as anywhere else here. "Nothing else should have moved in by now, and maybe there's something else we can do there."

Ptar-Axtlan had been able to make a realm door for Iwaizumi to one of the goblin markets. Granted, the markets are the dimensional equivalent of swiss cheese for how many things they connect to, but it had still been made. He'd been under the impression that it had been a secret, temporary thing, but it wasn't as if Ptar-Axtlan had ever explicitly told him. It could still be there.

Or something they could use, or do, or something. It's the only lead Iwaizumi has. None of the inhabitants of this place would be particularly friendly to him, since they'd just view him as the deity's pet even with it gone.

They'd be right, he thinks, dryly. And now he's gone from a god's pet to a psychic's.

"You're not my pet," Tooru mumbles in his ear, and tightens his hold for a moment. Iwaizumi supposes it's supposed to be a reassuring squeeze. "I met some ugly toad things earlier… They thought I was your pet."

"Toad things?" Iwaizumi asks. Miyanoshita raises her head, barely, and they both step carefully over stair-like ice shards that begin to grow beneath them.

"They were ugly," Tooru repeats in a sigh. "Greyish with pink snouts and blobby and gross…"

Iwaizumi lets out a snort. The ice beneath them melts at his touch and with a groan, Miyanoshita lifts herself back into the air and lets Tooru tug her along behind them. "Those sound like moon-beasts. Where were you?"

"How 'm I supposed to know where anything is here…?"

Iwaizumi badly hides his worry by faking a laugh. "Fair enough, I guess your sense of direction wouldn't be any better here, huh?"

Tooru drops back off into a restless slumber, and the landscape quiets down around them. Iwaizumi lets himself relax. Just a little.

By the time they reach his old haunting grounds, Iwaizumi is about ready to carry Tooru in his arms like a princess so he can throw Miyanoshita over his shoulder and carry her, too. She's stumbling more than walking, head drooping and bobbing with every step, and her tail drags behind her, completely limp. Iwaizumi is left to wonder just how much sleep baku are used to—and what the Dreamlands is doing to a higher spirit.

He doesn't wake either of them until they're skidding down the slope toward the hollowed-out tree. Miyanoshita blinks a few times, adjusting to the sight. They're in a depression, too gentle to be a canyon, but it's shallow and the tree is far too massive to be even halfway hidden. Most of the rest of the trees nearby have long since burned away, leaving a ghostly forest full of gnarled, glassy skeletons, but none compare in size.

Iwaizumi ignores the way his heart clenches at the sight. Something in his brain must jar Tooru awake, because the man jerks up with a "Wha?"

He swallows and sets Tooru down. "You two can rest here. You should be safe. I think there's… probably some stuff in there. I need to look around," he tells them, nodding toward the opening in the tree. He hopes Tooru doesn't turn it into fluff or slime or something, but this place has withstood worse, so they should be okay.

Iwaizumi watches them crawl into the tree, already mostly asleep, then jogs up the opposite side of the basin. There are still tracks here from the last people to be here; as he'd thought, nothing has really been here yet, too scared of the now-dead god. Whatever. It works in their favor now.

The husks of the trees here are more familiar to him than anything in Tooru's home, and he doesn't like how comforting it is to be here again. Iwaizumi would've been perfectly fine never returning.

He finds the tall, thin tree with the circle charred into the ground beneath it. The magic here is old and mostly dead, and the sour smell makes his nose wrinkle. There are no marks around the circle, either. Iwaizumi paces in front of it, staring hard at the runeless space, jaw clenching more and more with every pass.

It'd been a hell of a long shot.

But he's disappointed to find that some part of him had legitimately been hoping for this easy out.

Of course a deity would use completely different magic, and of course it wouldn't leave behind anything he could use. All he has for this trip is the ability to point at the ground and say At one point, there had been a temporary realm portal here. Some help that is.

Iwaizumi drops to his knees with a bitten-off groan. So, that's it, then. They're fucked. Nothing here knows how to make realm doors, nor are there any permanent ones already existing here. Sugawara had only gotten in with a nightgaunt and a lot of necromancy, and he didn't have any more nightgaunts. He probably didn't even know they were missing yet. He has no clue how much time had passed in the human realm.

Everything here is hostile, if not by nature then by his old alliance (ha) with Ptar-Axtlan. They'll be safe here for now, but… then what?

He doesn't know how to get them home. He doesn't know how to keep Tooru from creating or attracting trouble. Miyanoshita will probably be able to stomach eating things from this realm, but a human? Even Iwaizumi had to eat his fill in other realms while out on jobs. Ptar-Axtlan had been able to create realm doors in the past, from different realms, so he knows it's possible… and that's about it.

What now?

A panic unlike the fear thrall grips Iwaizumi.

They could die here. Miyanoshita has a far better chance at long-term survival, and Iwaizumi knows he can do it. But Tooru? No. And Iwaizumi only feels cold terror at the thought of returning here to live out his days.

So what now? He needs to think of a way out of here for them. It'd be a lot easier if he knew how they got here in the first place, or would it? Logic and magic rarely mix, in his experience.

So… A lucid-dreaming clairvoyant human, plus a baku, plus him? He doesn't get it. He hadn't been lucid dreaming, so maybe it was that? Miyanoshita had said his dreams were weird…

Iwaizumi, in lieu of ripping his hair out and screaming himself hoarse, steels himself and goes back to check on the other two. If nothing else, he can agonize over this while keeping watch for them.

He finds them both curled up safely in the hollowed-out tree, pressed as deep in as they can go but not quite hidden from outside view. Tooru is already asleep, head pillowed on Miyanoshita's lap, and Iwaizumi does a double-take when he realizes that Tooru is wrapped in a deerskin. His heart thuds at the sight, and, too late, he realizes how much of his own stuff is still here.

"I put him to sleep," Miyanoshita says, carding her fingers through his brown hair. "He shouldn't mess with things this way."

Iwaizumi swallows and nods. He doesn't trust his voice. His eyes scan over the remains of his old home, heart seizing once more at the piles of furs and skins and several of his old weapons and charms. She doesn't say anything about the weapons, at least.

"How will we return?" Miyanoshita asks. She looks up at him, eyes dark in the dim light, and she looks exhausted herself.

"You can rest, too," he tells her.

"I don't need to sleep as much as you two."

"I don't need to sleep here at all if I don't want to," Iwaizumi replies with a roll of his eyes. "I know the laws of the land better, and I know what I can get away with. Please, sleep, if only for my own peace of mind."

"I think you should sleep to recuperate," Miyanoshita returns. Her voice is harder now and she stills her hands in Tooru's hair.

It dawns on him what she means. "You want to try again?" He's half incredulous, half disturbed. There are worse things that could happen to him, and he isn't in a hurry to experience any of them.

"It can't get us in any more trouble."

"It actually could. I don't think Oikawa should dream at all out here, either."

"Do you have any other ideas?" she asks, not challenging so much as desperate.

Lucid-dreaming, empty dreamspaces, psychics and baku and skinwalkers— "No, I don't," Iwaizumi replies. Her shoulders droop and they both sigh. He sits down opposite them, stretching out his legs with a groan, and he wonders if he couldn't shift his feet into something a little more comfortable to walk on.

Wait.

"Shit," Iwaizumi breathes, unable to believe what has been in front of him all along.

Miyanoshita looks up at him, brow drawn in concern, but he hardly pays her any mind. He's been so consumed with trying to exactly reverse this or piggyback off of what Ptar-Axtlan had done, or even trying to figure out whatever the hell Sugawara had done—he hadn't realized that they aren't them. He's not a god, Tooru isn't a necromancer, and who the fuck cares how they got back into this shithole?

He sure doesn't, not when he finally has figured out a way back out.

They just have to do things their own way. And for someone as familiar with the Dreamlands as he is, combined with the fact that they have a psychic in the Dreamlands at their disposal, that's a lot of leeway.

"I know how we can get out," Iwaizumi exclaims, jumping back up onto his aching feet. "Wake him up, we need him."

"He just fell asleep—"

"He can sleep back in the human realm!" he calls over his shoulder as he races back outside.

What will he need? He doesn't have any of his legitimate skins here with him, so he's going to have to work off of memory again, which won't be pleasant. Maybe a placebo? No, he thinks and shakes his head. He jumps up to break off a brittle branch from the large tree, and begins drawing circles.

He's already done with the first by the time Tooru limps back out, rubbing at his eyes and draped in the deerskin, Miyanoshita supporting him. "What's got you in a tizzy, Iwa-chan…?" he whines, plaintive and surprisingly bright considering how tired he must be.

"We're getting out? Now?" Miyanoshita adds, hopeful.

"Oikawa can mess with this place damn near as well as any god can," Iwaizumi explains breathlessly as he begins writing marks around his circle. Dragon, scale, protection,whole—he may not know much magic, but this comes to him like a second language. Who cares if he's bullshitting it? Iwaizumi runs out of room before he runs out of runes to shove into this haphazard circle. It should work. He's had to write his own things since he became a skinwalker, so at least he has a couple centuries of practice. "Even if he's not a dreamer right now, he's still powerful. We're going to break out of here."

His declaration is met with silence, until Tooru offers him a little yawn. "A-And how are we going to do that?" Miyanoshita nervously asks.

Iwaizumi jerks his thumb up against his sternum. "Me."

"You. Are going to break this realm. Are you still under some sort of thrall, because that is—"

"Oikawa killed a god here before. I know he has the power for this."

"I was a dreamer," Tooru replies tiredly, using his own words against him, "and if you recall, I wasn't exactly myself then, either."

"Have a little faith."

"I'm still listening, aren't I?"

"Let's go over these details again," Miyanoshita breaks back in. "What exactly are we doing and how? Because I feel like there's a couple steps missing here, besides the whole 'let's do it' thing."

"Dragon scales repel magic," Iwaizumi explains. She nods along. "The realm walls should be weaker here, so we just have to take advantage of that and use brute force. Which is where Oikawa comes in."

"Okay, there's something like logic there," she admits, but squints at him and points out, "but I can't help but notice that you're not a dragon. And there's not any dragons here. Aren't there any nasty native creatures that negate magic like that?"

"Here, I can force a transformation."

He only gets a very blank, suspicious look in response.

Iwaizumi sighs and strips off his shirt. "You're right about the fact that I can't normally turn into anything else without a pelt—in the human realm. But here, this place works different, if you haven't noticed. As long as my body knows how to do it and I can concentrate, I should be able to turn into one."

She doesn't need to know how much he dreads this. It's not a painless process, for one, and he has only fully transformed into a dragon a handful of times now. But he's a quick learner. He hopes.

Tooru yawns again, head bobbing, before he catches himself and asks, "How exactly can I help you?"

"Concentrate on turning me into the biggest, scariest, strongest dragon you've ever thought of. More powerful than anything you've ever seen before. And concentrate very hard on my scales. They need to be as real as possible."

This is a reach, he knows, and Tooru's expression doesn't inspire confidence in him. "Am I turning you into this beast or are you doing it to yourself?"

"Both," he honestly answers. "We have to do this together, otherwise I'll probably fail. That won't be pretty." He already did a partial transformation once to help force Ptar-Axtlan out, so he knows it's possible on a technical level. He can turn into a dragon, without a skin, in the Dreamlands.

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath and tries to remember what it felt like.

For a long moment, nothing really happens. He doesn't make it to the point where he begins to fear failure, however, since he cracks open an eye to already find his hands have turned into claws.

It's painless, he marvels, turning over his hands a few times, watching the scales sprout on his skin like many tiny flowers. He turns to look at Tooru; the psychic's eyes are screwed shut in his focus, and there's sweat dripping down from his temples. Miyanoshita is holding him up more than ever.

He's going to have to pull his own weight, then. He can't let Tooru bear the brunt of this, since it was his idea and his body.

None of it feels particularly painful or like his usual shifts until he reaches the first set of wings. Those force themselves out of his back like they're carving their way out of his lungs, and he staggers, nearly stepping out of his circle before he catches himself. Iwaizumi grits his teeth against the pain and keeps going.

This isn't exactly happening in any order that he's used to. The scales are coming first, before anything else of his body changes, and that's when he realizes that it truly is Tooru forcing this upon him. He has to catch up before this gets messy.

By the time his second pair of wings sprout, he's on all fours, trying to grow a snout before his fangs cut through his mouth. Now it's all hurting, and badly, but his growls are coming out half-feral and his scales are gleaming, nearly glowing, so he'll bear it. In hindsight, it's a really good thing that Tooru has seen what he looks like as a dragon, too, especially since he has to fight him on a couple of the littler details, like his horns or how far up the ruff on his tail goes.

He snaps at Tooru when he feels shifted enough, and at last it feels right. He can feel it when Tooru's influence leaves him, and that's an unsettling thought he shoves to the side for later.

Iwaizumi paces in a circle, checking over himself, noting how shiny his scales still are. He half-wishes they looked like this in reality, and then, incredibly grateful that dragons can't blush, he realizes that part of this must be how Tooru views him. He stretches out all of his limbs, flapping his wings a couple times, taking stock; everything seems alright. He's functional, and he's certainly a dragon. Hopefully he's enough of a dragon.

Miyanoshita's eyes are huge again, but she's not trembling out of fear so much as excitement. Tooru, more draped over her shoulder than he is standing under his own power, looks less so. "Th-That's so cool…!" she breathes, staring up at him, and under any other circumstances, Iwaizumi would preen.

Becoming a dragon is still novel and exciting to him, too. Sometimes.

"It's worked this far, so we should see it through," he says, mostly to himself, and rears up on his hind legs. He stretches out his wings for balance and contemplates the pair in front of him. Jumping between realms isn't going to be pleasant. Miyanoshita should fare better than Tooru, but at least it's not outright jumping. They should be okay. When Ptar-Axtlan shoved him through to steal the egg, it hadn't hurt much, so hopefully…

Well, they have little other option. And the most important rule of the Dreamlands is to have faith in what you're thinking.

"Come here," he says and extends his arm. Miyanoshita, bless her, does not hesitate to jump into the dragon's open arms. Tooru ends up sandwiched between them, his head lolling, and Iwaizumi fears that he's not fully conscious. They need as much of his power as possible to do this, so Iwaizumi gently shakes them with an urgent, "Hey, dumbass, wake back up."

"'m 'wake," he slurs in response. Reassuring.

"See this spot?" Iwaizumi asks, pointing with his tail to a drawn notch at the top of his circle. He receives two nods, although Tooru's head may just be floppy again. "Concentrate on it, both of you. Imagine… Uh. Imagine a glass breaking, or something breaking. Not the ground, but the air." That should work. Probably.

Miyanoshita shuts her eyes tight, mouth worked into a fierce scowl. Tooru groans weakly and blood drips down over his lips. With his free claws, Iwaizumi slashes down at the mark on his circle, the point where it should be easiest to interact with realm borders.

And to his immense relief, he feels his claws catch on something.

His middle claw comes off with a crack and when he pulls his hand back, he realizes that two others are half-melted. "Okay," he says, swallowing his alarm, "you two are going to have to hold on. I need my other hand."

"Don't you mean paw?" Tooru asks.

"If you're awake enough to sass me, you're awake enough to try harder. I think I made a dent in the place so shove everything you've got at that."

He pauses just long enough for them both to clamber onto his back, avoiding spikes and his top set of wings, and then he resumes digging into the hitch he'd felt. It takes a bit of scrabbling to hook a claw back in, and he loses that one, too, before he can start wedging any part of his hand actually into the space.

He's dimly aware that he can see his scales melting, dark teal going nearly white before dripping down onto an unseen wall. It's not a pleasant smell, either.

But it doesn't really hurt yet, and it's not like this is damaging his pelt either, so Iwaizumi can live with this. He digs both hands into the crack he's made and pulls. It fights him, sizzling against the fake scales, and he thinks he can see the ground cracking in his peripherals. He also thinks he sees a few trees go down.

This is what he'd been fearing the most: they're going to destroy this part of the Dreamlands before they can make any real headway. Iwaizumi shoves his weight against the crack, and with a splash of suddenly melted dragonskin, he manages to shove an arm through up to his elbow.

And, of course, then it starts hurting. Iwaizumi's tail lashes, as much as he'll let it show, and tries to shoulder his way through. He'd sort of hoped it would break a little hole in it and they could slip through; he isn't sure what will happen if they have to squeeze through when any edge of it is liable to hurt or kill them. But, this is progress, and he realizes that he's soon managed to rip a hole roughly the size of a human.

The space on the other side is dark, and he can taste the magic in the air. It's familiar, but not human, and certainly not Dreamlands bullshit. The difference in pressure seems to suck them in.

"Miyanoshita," Iwaizumi grunts, trying to widen the space even still, "grab Oikawa and jump."

"Jump? Where does that place go?" she asks, leaning over him.

"It's not here," he snaps back. He tastes the air again, and the magic makes his nose itch. "I don't know where it is, but I know it. I think."

"Human realm?" she asks, fast and hopeful.

"I don't think so."

"How many realms have you even been to," Tooru grumbles.

"Not that many," Iwaizumi replies, but now he's thinking—not that many, probably, but that can come secondary to simply getting out. No other realm has ever tried to kill him quite as consistently as the Dreamlands, so this can only be a step in the right direction. "You two, go."

"And how will you get through?" Miyanoshita asks.

Iwaizumi looks down at the very much not dragon-sized hole. He swallows his initial, knee-jerk lie, and instead tells them, "I guess I won't, this time. But if you two can make it back to the city, maybe Sugawara can whip something up."

"We're not leaving you!" she exclaims.

"We need the big dragon to keep this open, and this isn't a discussion!" Iwaizumi tries to nudge her off, but his neck isn't long enough, and she hunkers down on his shoulder with a flick of her tail. "I'm serious. I'm not sure how long this will keep like this. You two need to go—you can't survive here like I can."

Well, he doesn't have a patron deity anymore, so maybe not. As soon as he thinks that, no matter how wry the thought, he knows he's made a mistake; Tooru slides down off of his back and approaches the hole.

"Wait, don't touch—"

"We just need to make it dragon-sized, then," the psychic declares and shoves at one of the jagged, invisible edges.

Immediately, it all shatters.

Iwaizumi falls forward without the border to hold himself up, and Miyanoshita slips from his shoulder. He doesn't see where Tooru falls, but he hears his yelp.

The dragon twists in the air, becoming aware that they are not near any ground, but they're no longer in the Dreamlands. The rules don't apply anymore. He doesn't know what kind of laws the land they're in now follow, but it's close enough to normal that he's shoved back into his own body, and he loses contact with Miyanoshita as they tumble downward.

A loud oof is the only warning he gets before he hits something, and bounces off with a yelp of his own. He sees buildings, lights, and why the fuck are they still so high off the ground. Miyanoshita shrieks as she tries to claw her way into staying somewhere, but it doesn't work.

Somehow, Iwaizumi ends up on the bottom. Miyanoshita lands on top of him, and Tooru on top of her—how the hell did he get on top?! Iwaizumi mentally snarls and tries to push them off so he can pull oxygen back into his lungs. He probably broke a few ribs. Or all of them. Breathing, even without the weight on his back, is very hard.

The hole in the realms above them snaps shut with a sound like an explosion. Iwaizumi feels like throwing up, and Tooru actually does in the gutter. "Where are we?" Miyanoshita asks. "This looks like—oh shit."

Iwaizumi and Tooru both look up, exhausted and unimpressed but still alarmed by her curse. Miyanoshita scrambles over to yank the deerskin away from Tooru and throw it at Iwaizumi.

He pulls it around himself just as the first panicked tengu lands to intercept the intruders.

Tooru gasps out, "Tengu friend," before promptly passing out in Iwaizumi's lap.

-.-.-

Tendou doesn't know what to make of it when Wakatoshi—even with otherworldly help—makes a realm portal like it's nothing. Shirabu is quiet, too. Wakatoshi wipes the sweat from his brow and puts his hands on his hips. He inclines his head toward the door, as if prompting them to verbally acknowledge it.

"That's," Tendou starts, and doesn't know how to finish it. He takes a breath and lets it out in a whoosh. "Wow."

"That's impressive," Shirabu says with surprisingly genuine awe. "That's what your boss is helping you with?"

"No," Wakatoshi dryly replies. "This is just a means to an end, which serves it rather than us. Have either of you two been to Tartarus before?"

He's trying to make smalltalk, Tendou realizes in delight, about another realm's hell. He can't believe how horrifically straightforward Wakatoshi is about these things. It's borderline hilarious.

"We're coming with you?" Shirabu asks. The awe is gone, replaced by mistrust and irritation. So much more normal.

"Although I'm a very powerful witch, I'd still prefer backup for something like a nephilim," Wakatoshi replies. He frowns and glances at the portal again. There's a twitch to his features, the smallest deepening of his scowl, and Tendou wonders if Northot is talking to him again. "It's smarter this way. Even without Kageyama."

"Is that the witch that was helping you before?" Shirabu asks.

"Yes. He betrayed us and now I'm working with you two instead." Though his tone is as curt as it normally is, they can sense that that's the end to that conversation. Wakatoshi goes first through the door, and Tendou gladly follows him, herding Shirabu between them.

Tartarus is better-lit than he'd imagined. He doesn't see a sun or a moon, but there are stars, twinkling through some sort of foggy sky. Tendou oohs and ahhs as they head further in, the trio practically in a knot, and the only sounds are their breathing and footfalls. (One of these does not sound like the others, and not for the first time, Tendou wonders what exactly Shirabu looks like.)

"Is it supposed to be this quiet?" Shirabu asks. To his credit, he doesn't sound nervous so much as suspicious. (As usual.)

"I don't see how you could hear enough over the clomping to know it's quiet," Tendou remarks. He can feel the irate look he gets from Shirabu in return, and he can't stop from chuckling to himself. Too easy.

"Stay quiet, please," Wakatoshi says flatly from ahead.

"I'm just pointing out how talented he is," Tendou responds. Shirabu smacks his back in retaliation, and he's lucky Tendou can't see him, because immature slap contests in a foreign and hostile realm, while a poor decision, is definitely something he'd get into. It's only fair.

With a long-suffering sigh, Wakatoshi reaches around in the air until he grabs some part of Shirabu, grabs Tendou's arm, and pushes them apart to place himself between. Tendou stares at him, both surprised and trying hard not to laugh.

Surprise transforms into shock when he hears Shirabu laugh at that. "Sorry," he hastily says, amusement still thick in his voice, "you must think us little more than children."

"I think you two could stand to get along better," Wakatoshi replies. "Do not jeopardize my mission, and don't get us into trouble, either. Here or in any other realm. We have a deal."

"Yeah, yeah, a deal," Tendou says with a roll of his eyes. "Escort him in and out of the tengu realm, and we get that egg you want. I think we'd like each other a lot more if I didn't think he'd stab me with an antler in my sleep."

"Are you even aware of what kind of weird angle that'd put my head?" Shirabu snorts.

Tendou isn't sure if he's joking or not.

"This would be better if we could do it sooner," he adds, and Tendou doesn't exactly get an answer from him. But now he sounds solemn, perhaps a little mopey—the usual when he brings up wanting to go to the tengu realm.

"What exactly is in bird territory that you want so badly?" Tendou asks. Perfectly conversational, albeit a little repetitive.

"Tendou," Wakatoshi warns.

Shirabu remains silent so long that Tendou thinks he's being ignored (which riles him in a completely different, far less fun way), but then, he quietly responds, "My friend."

Tendou certainly doesn't know what to do with that sort of soft candidness, even as his mind begins to turn over the prospect of smuggling two people back out of the tengu realm. Really, it's sort of the detail he would've liked to have known earlier—did Shirabu think to drop this on them right before? That sounds like a recipe for skewered matagot and invisible-antler-guy on tengu claws. And friend.

Wakatoshi does not let them discuss this; he holds out an arm to stop them both, and that's all the warning they get before an utterly silent, gigantic foot comes down hardly three steps in front of them.

Tendou feels his hair and ears wave with the displaced air. He hears Shirabu curse under his breath, barely audible, because the thing in front of them is fucking silent as the grave, and it's one of the scariest things Tendou has experienced.

With his outstretched arm, Wakatoshi gives Tendou a shove backwards at the same time that he starts forward. Each of his steps sounds far too loud now, and Tendou realizes that the stillness around them isn't as safe as he'd taken it for. In the dimness, he can see indistinct shapes moving in the distance, but none as close as the towering figure before them, passing them by with hardly a care to the three that don't even come up to its ankle.

Brooms don't work here, but potions and witch magic still do, and with a leap, Wakatoshi starts climbing. He makes it to the nephilim's knee before he opens the flask on his hip, and by the time his magic falters, he keeps going with dual daggers made of hydra blood pulling himself up. The giant doesn't notice, not at first, even with the steam pouring out of its wounds.

It still doesn't make any sound even when it does falter. Tendou and Shirabu jog alongside them, nervous and still not sure why the witch wanted either of them here. The nephilim pauses, then stops, shoulders going rigid. It swipes a hand down at Wakatoshi, who circles around to its back, and it scrabbles uselessly at its injured leg.

Tendou tries to float up, to get a better view, but it doesn't work; the magic here is too suppressed. He growls in frustration and writhes in the air about knee-height, too far to help. "What exactly did you want us to do here for you?!" he calls up.

The answer comes when the nephilim manages to snag Wakatoshi off of its shoulder blade. It throws him away like a rag doll, and Tendou reacts on impulse; the witch will land too far away, and he's not fast enough, but he can still jump. He pops out and back in, misjudging his height, and ends up above Wakatoshi.

They stare at each other for a shocked second before they collide and fall together. They land with a whump nearly out of sight of the nephilim.

"I meant for you to catch me," Wakatoshi wheezes.

"J'ai essayé," Tendou groans back. "You could have warned me, yeah?"

"I think something's broken." They sit up, and Wakatoshi glares down at himself like it's done him a great personal insult. He pushes down on his chest, winces, then clambers to his feet anyway. "You can't really fight that, so I need to do this much. I need you to catch me if I'm thrown again."

Tendou doesn't want to dwell on the 'you can't fight it' bit, so he nods, even if he's miffed enough that he doesn't care what a demonstration of trust this is. They have little other choice if they're going to stop that big thing.

Wakatoshi's breathing is labored when they jog back, far too pained for such a short run; Tendou sees a flash of Shirabu's concerned expression before their invisible ally flatly asks, "Going to try again?"

"Of course."

"It'll swat you off again. You need to get up to it faster."

"I can't actually fly on anything here, and a flight potion is more like a jumping one," Wakatoshi sourly replies. "It would be different if either of you could help with this, but you can't, so I have to climb it."

Shirabu snaps something in response, and Tendou dimly hears Wakatoshi politely correct him; he tunes them both out in favor of craning his head back to stare up at the departing nephilim. It doesn't seem hostile until they're actively attacking it, which is useful. If someone did have wings, that'd be a cinch. As it is, they're largely grounded, bound by the rules of the realm.

What if we didn't use this realm? Tendou thinks, then repeats himself aloud.

"And what does that mean? Can fox spirits use some sort of foreign magic now?" Shirabu huffs.

"I can do something you can't do," Tendou shoots back, grinning wide, "and that's jump."

"I was already doing that," Wakatoshi points out.

"Gotta do everything," Tendou sighs, and points at the giant lumbering away. "It's going to squish you if you try to climb it again like that, but it doesn't seem to care until you actually start messing with it, ouais? So I need you to get as high as you can on it, and then I'll catch you."

Understanding finally sparks in Wakatoshi's widened eyes, and he smiles as he nods.

Tendou, bizarrely, is pretty sure his heart just skipped a beat.

He doesn't understand why, and presses his hand to his chest while Wakatoshi turns around to size up the nephilim. Tendou himself isn't really injured from that tumble earlier, and he feels fine now, if maybe a little warm. He definitely doesn't want to think about this any further.

"I can probably get up to its waist again before it can knock me off," the witch declares. "Aim for that height."

Easier said than done, but Tendou nods anyway, because he doesn't actually want to let Wakatoshi down. And it was his brilliant plan. He needs to see this through.

"Don't break anything else this time," Shirabu flatly tells them both.

Tendou floats as high as he can, watching Wakatoshi get a running start before leaping onto the giant once more. Its reaction is faster this time, swinging an arm down to try to catch him by the time he's mid-thigh, and predictably, Wakatoshi's reactions are slower. He ducks under the way of the first and makes a daring jump onto its other leg to dodge its second swipe.

Its first injuries are still steaming faintly, and more only gets the nephilim madder. Wakatoshi scrambles up as fast as he can. Even from where he is, Tendou can see that he's letting blood drip away as he goes now, not having the time to reform each dagger before progressing. It drips down the nephilim, releasing more steam as it goes.

Wakatoshi does, indeed, make it to its waist before he kicks off of its hipbone.

Tendou doesn't expect the man to literally attempt to jump into his arms, and hastily pops in and out so he's higher, nearly misjudging it again. Wakatoshi hits him bodily, and it takes a precious moment for them to unsort limbs and groan at the way the witch's skull cracked into his jaw—no surprise, he has a hard head—but then Wakatoshi pushes off of him with a jump spell this time.

Tendou falls, somersaulting through the air once before righting himself again; he sees that Wakatoshi had the supreme bad luck to land on the nephilim's arm instead of chest. The witch is actually standing on it, more or less upright, and the nephilim seems equally surprised.

Tendou jumps back into the Inbetween, claws his way up as high as he can go despite the cold shearing into him. When he reappears, he finds Wakatoshi already reaching for him.

The catch is perfect this time, no jostling of limbs or time wasted. Tendou laces his fingers beneath Wakatoshi's boot, braces himself as best he can against the stagnant air here, and the witch leaps off of him with his bloody blade drawn and ready for the nephilim's throat.

Tendou pops back downward so the fall doesn't break his neck, and lands in an uncoordinated, shivering pile on top of Shirabu. Shirabu shoves him off, complaining all the while, and Tendou just lays there and rubs at his arms, watching the tiny figure of Wakatoshi bury his sword in the nephilim's neck. It silently roars, staggering and choking, and Tendou wonders if maybe they should worry about it collapsing on top of them.

That worry is dismissed entirely when the nephilim manages to rip Wakatoshi away from its neck.

He hears a shout, and he's not sure if it's him or Shirabu; he registers the movement beside himself before he jumps back into empty space. It burns against him, but it's a fast trip, no matter how much height he tries to get. He catches Wakatoshi in his arms at the same time Shirabu cleaves through the tendons on the back of the giant's foot.

The nephilim staggers, clutching at its bleeding throat, and falls. Even as it impacts the ground, it is still completely silent.

Tendou lands badly, but he's still underneath Wakatoshi and he knows that higher spirits are still far sturdier than any human. Shirabu clomps over to them, flickering in and out of visibility like a broken light, and Tendou is alarmed to see him coughing and wiping blood from his mouth even as he flops down beside them. "Is he—?"

Tendou presses his fingers to Wakatoshi's neck, although the lack of response and awkward angles his body lie at are telling enough.

There is no pulse.

"Hey, wake up," Tendou tells him, pressing his fingers more firmly against his throat. He's mostly numb, so he's probably just feeling it wrong, or not at all. "He's not breathing."

"Don't humans spawn ghosts?"

"He's not dead-dead! Lève-toi—I know you can!"

"Stop shaking him like that!" Shirabu tries to pull Tendou off of Wakatoshi, but he just hisses at him and grips tighter. "Look, I know you cared or whatever, but I need you tonot freak out."

"I'm not freaking out. I know he can come back!" Tendou insists in little more than a growl.

"I still need your help getting in and out of the tengu realm." Shirabu's voice softens, but it doesn't do anything except make Tendou angrier with him; he doesn't need that pitying, gentle tone like he's some sort of inconsolable child. "And I can still give you the egg if you need it for your boss. You're working for the Northot thing too, right?"

"The witch is still needed," Wakatoshi's body announces, and Shirabu jumps away like a startled, antlered cat.

Tendou doesn't even mind the leftover ringing in his ears right now. He ignores the cracking of the bones resettling and instead stays folded over Wakatoshi. "Dieu merci," he sighs. "Hurry up and bring him back."

"This is not your payment," the hollow voice tells him, and it sounds faintly amused, the jackass. "This is my arrangement with the witch."

Tendou almost says something incredibly stupid like Make it my payment. But he Does Not Want to lose the mountains of gold plus magical power, so he bites his tongue, and stays low over Wakatoshi's body. "…Bring him back anyway, if not for me."

"How attached you are," Northot says, outright laughing this time, before vanishing completely.

The magic in the air makes his teeth ache and fur stand on end, but soon, Wakatoshi is blinking up at him, looking dazed and pained and incredibly alive.

Tendou doesn't release him for an inappropriately long moment—until Shirabu barks out, "What the fuck was that?!"

That, Tendou thinks with happy dread while Wakatoshi lapses into magical jargon about old gods, is someone I'm far too attached to.

-.-.-

Iwaizumi is fairly certain they don't recognize him, considering he hasn't been executed yet. He keeps the deerskin clamped tight around himself, even when he wants to help hold Tooru upright. Despite being out of the Dreamlands and in a more stable world, he doesn't look too good, on the verge of passing out.

Tooru's status kept them alive thus far, although they've been escorted to what Iwaizumi is certain is a prison. Not large, but made of thicker, older wood, and he catches lines of foreign runes lining the doorway when they're shoved inside. All of the tengu he's seen so far have had dark feathers, only a couple speckled with various colors, so he assumes they're in crow territory.

It's not helpful since Tooru is friends with the owl clan, but it is helpful in the fact that he wasn't flayed (again) on sight.

"Hey, could we get a healer or something for our friend here?" Miyanoshita calls after the three of them are tossed into a cell and left there.

There are only two cells in the windowless room, and even if they all came together, he finds it incredibly strange that they weren't separated. Even if they're just being held for now. Iwaizumi waits until their guards leave—without answering them, so he doubts Tooru will get help anytime soon—before crouching down beside Tooru and helping him sit up. "Are you okay?"

"Feel like 'm gonna puke," Tooru groans.

Iwaizumi gives him a little more space after that. Tooru sits in the corner, propped up with his head lolling to the side, and his eyes flutter as he struggles to stay conscious. He's had two nosebleeds since they got here, or maybe he never actually stopped.

Miyanoshita, on the other hand, seems fine now, and he doesn't feel too badly himself, aside from how badly his skin itches. He doesn't dare remove his covering, however briefly. "What'll happen now?" Miyanoshita whispers, scratching lightly at the crisscrossed wooden bars. Even with her claws, she doesn't put any marks on it. Iwaizumi doubts any of them could if they tried.

"They'll question us more, but they're bound to get an owl tengu in here to see if we're really tengu friend or not," Iwaizumi says. "They'll… probably escort Oikawa home. I'm not so sure about us. Can you get away from here?"

"I've never tried going into a tengu's dream before," she admits. "So… who knows. I doubt any tengu are going to fall asleep near us, anyway."

"…Does it have to be a tengu's dream?" comes another voice and both of them jump. Iwaizumi whirls around, fists raised, and Miyanoshita snaps to attention; when they face the other cell, it remains empty.

"Could you keep it down?" Tooru complains and rubs at his head.

"Who's there?" Iwaizumi demands, moving in between the psychic and the empty cell.

It doesn't remain empty for much longer. A figure bleeds into sight like an invisibility charm is being washed off, and both Iwaizumi and Miyanoshita tense all over again.

The man is pale-haired, dark-skinned, antlered, and appearing almost as exhausted as they feel. His ears, downturned ones of a deer, match the flat, dark nose that wrinkles when he sees the pelt that Iwaizumi has wrapped around him. (Iwaizumi privately feels the same way.) He holds himself gingerly, like he's nursing unseen injuries, and there's a bruise covering the right side of his face.

"You're a baku, right?" he asks, ignoring Iwaizumi's scowl. "Could you leave the realm through someone's dreams?"

"I don't know," she warily replies.

He doesn't ask why she doesn't try leaving through either Iwaizumi or Tooru's dreams, but he does cock his head thoughtfully. The tips of his antlers almost catch on the ceiling, and he's already so tall, probably taller even than Tooru. "I'm willing to offer a trade."

Iwaizumi, curious as he is, doesn't get to find out what the trade is. The tengu guard comes back into the room, smacking the front of their cells with a wing, snapping, "Nowyou're talkative, thief?"

The stranger's frown deepens and he vanishes from sight again, although now that Iwaizumi's looking for it, he can still hear the shifting and smell him. He doesn't smell like magic, per se, but he's definitely a shapeshifter. Iwaizumi doesn't want to trust him.

But if he's facing down death by tengu, maybe he'll have little choice.

"The owl clan has been contacted about your claim and will find who declared you friend. We'll sort this out after they arrive, unless you have anything else to say for yourselves?" the guard asks archly, and none of them response. Silence is probably safest.

The guard huffs and returns to the post just outside the door.

"Thief, huh?" Miyanoshita asks. "What kind of deal could a thief make with us? You don't know what we're in for."

The stranger does not respond. Iwaizumi's curiosity is completely gone now, anyway, replaced by dread: they're going to be sending Akaashi over here to get them. He sinks down next to Tooru, about as put-together as the psychic is, and does not look forward to this reunion.

-.-.-

Suga tightens his grip on his bag. Sunshine has already been dropped off with Kiyoko, along with Dinah, although Suga hadn't gone in to see her himself. He's all packed, and it's not as if he has to call out of work. This was half her idea, and Tooru isn't answering his phone, so Suga can only assume he's off gallivanting with Iwaizumi somewhere. There's… not a lot of other people who'd care that he's on a vacation.

Vacation, he scoffs; those are supposed to be relaxing and stress-free. He stares down at the vehicle in front of him. His knuckles are stark white by now and his duffel bag shakes in his grasp.

Daichi, bless his sweet but dense heart, hasn't seemed to notice Suga's hesitance yet. He's rummaging around in the backseat—bent over in a way that Suga is ninety percent sure is on purpose and rather silly, even if he can't even be grateful for it right now—to make room for Suga's things.

It's just a car ride, he tells himself. Again. It's not like he's never been in a car before. Hell, he's even been in Daichi's car before… Once. But he hasn't been on any road trips for this long before, and he's going to meet Daichi's family, which is an added layer of anxiety in a wholly new direction. (Suga has met Tooru's sister, but he's never really met anyone's family like this before.)

"Here," Daichi says, extending a hand for Suga's things. He shrugs off his messenger bag first and hands it over, but Daichi just stares at it like Suga has handed him a live lobster. "…Isn't this your work bag?"

"Yes?" Suga replies, not sure about the question. He hefts the duffel bag. "This is my clothes and stuff. You're sure I don't have to bring presents?"

"Positive." Daichi ducks back into the car, so Suga isn't certain he's supposed to hear the muttered, "Trust me, presents will be the last thing on their mind when they see you."

Suga is definitely going to die on this trip. He's either going to have a heart attack on the way there, or he's going to drop dead of stress at whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean.

Daichi gives him an odd look when Suga doesn't detach his locked fingers from his other bag, and gives the messenger bag in the backseat another wary look. "You didn't need it, but you can just throw that in the back, unless you have a pillow or something you want. I should probably start the car again to warm it up, since I don't want you freezing to my seat."

Suga cannot even respond to that.

Daichi looks like he's about to reach out to him—pat him on the shoulder or take his hand, perhaps—but instead jogs around to the other side of the car, and Suga awkwardly remains standing there, hyping himself up to do something as simple as get into a car. A car with a man he trusts and likes, and it'll only be a couple hours, and hypothetically he can sleep on the way.

This may have been a bad idea. And Suga is honestly pretty damn used to bad ideas at this point, but this is a bad idea in a direction that's very unfamiliar.

But, before his thoughts can spiral further, Daichi turns on the car and his speakers begin blasting the Spice Girls, of all things.

Both of them jump at the sudden noise; Suga drops his bag on his feet, although it doesn't hurt with his boots on, and Daichi hits his head on the top of the car door. Rubbing his fresh wound, he reaches over and turns down the music to a dim, peppy thrum.

Suga can't see his face, but he can see that Daichi's ears are very, very red.

Neither of them speak for a long moment.

"Was that—" Suga begins.

"I like loud music when I drive," Daichi admits in a serious and mature tone of voice. Like he's trying to take the higher ground on something, but like hell Suga is going to let him.

"S-So your pick is Wannabe?" Suga says, then bursts into delighted laughter. He has to bend over with how hard he's laughing, clutching at his sides, eyes stinging from tears. Big, strong, stoic Daichi, listening to the fucking Spice Girls of all things, and at volumes loud enough to rival jet engines?

Suga is pretty sure he hasn't laughed this hard in a long time.

By the time he's catching his breath, now leaning against the car for support, Daichi has managed to work past whatever embarrassment he'd suffered from—Suga's a little sad he missed that, all things considered—although he still has an unfairly attractive flush high on his cheeks. "Are you finished?" Daichi deadpans. He sounds remarkably dignified, even in the face of this.

The song ends and Madonna comes on next.

Suga legitimately collapses against the car with fresh peals of cackling.

He's aware of Daichi coming around to the other side of the car and grabbing his bag, shoving it in behind him, but he doesn't really pay much attention outside of trying to lean in to hit enough buttons on the stereo to skip to the next song (he can only imagine what else Daichi has been listening to, and dear fucking god he needs to find out).

What does catch his attention is Daichi putting one hand on his hip and the other on the back of Suga's head. Like he's getting shoved into a cop car, Daichi pushes him down into the front seat, and Suga barely manages to avoid faceplanting into the armrest. The hand on his hip—large, warm, but why were Daichi's hands this big that's unfair—manages to guide him into something more or less seated upright.

Daichi grins as he even buckles Suga in. Suga stares up at him, mind already wandering off on thoughts related to how he can get those hands back on him. "There we go," Daichi tells him, proudly, and even goes so far as to pat Suga's cheek. "Sometimes you just need a little push, huh."

Suga gapes at him.

Daichi shuts the door, and outside of hitting the next button to see what comes up (Cher), Suga just sits there. He's not sure whether he's more stunned at the manhandling or Daichi's words, and he only decides it's the latter when Daichi slides into the driver's seat and slams his own door shut, too.

"Who told you that?" Suga asks.

"Told me what?" Daichi asks in return. He turns up the heat further; it's still cold, and he turns to face Suga with one elbow leaning on the wheel while they wait.

"The push thing."

"It's not like I haven't noticed it myself. You're a little prone to overthinking, no offense," Daichi fields.

Suga is well aware. So are most of the people he deals with. It's not a secret, but Yuu had always been fond of declaring people needed pushes before (literally) pushing them. And by people, Suga definitely means Asahi and himself.

He's sure it was just a coincidence of Daichi's wording, but he had managed not to think about Asahi for a little while.

Then, he realizes he's been thinking of this like some sort of grand feat, and the guilt settles back in like a wave crashing back over him.

"Just like that," Daichi sighs and puts his hand over Suga's, which is clenched on his thigh. Suga can't help but notice the temperature difference between them.

"Sorry," Suga replies on reflex and hastily scrubs at his eyes with his free hand. "It's just—Noya said we had that in common, me and Asahi. Sorry, i-it's dumb, I know…"

"I think I have tissues somewhere in here…?"

"Messenger bag," Suga tells him. Daichi digs around in there like he's afraid it'll bite his hand off, but he retrieves some tissues and Suga manages not to drip snot or tears everywhere. "Thanks, sorry. It's just… r-really fresh, I guess."

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize for this," Daichi tells him and squeezes his hand. "You can cry the entire way there if that's what you think is best."

Suga laughs, this time with a bitterness he can't hide. "Five hours of me crying, that's exactly what I want to put you through next. Near-death experiences, actual death experiences, and n-now this. Perfect. I don't see why you don't propose to me here and now."

Daichi sighs, and Suga winces when Daichi releases his hand. "I'm going to get a shirt that says 'I don't put up with you' on the chest. And frankly, I don't deserve that, and neither do you."

"Sorry."

Daichi doesn't respond and instead, they finally pull away from Suga's apartment. The initial lurch of the car isn't so bad, and Suga's too busy wiping at his eyes again to really notice that they're moving until they're about a block away.

And driving isn't so bad.

The city traffic is disgusting and no one can drive in the mushy weather they've had, but Daichi just turns up the music a little. He's humming along with it by the time he pulls onto the highway. Suga has steered himself away from Terrible Self-Pity/Loathing and somehow Sad Asahi Thoughts as well, though his mood still feels a little too fragile to go back to joking about Daichi's musical choices.

He leans his head against the window and stares at the passing scenery. Graffiti, wall, a tree poking over the top of the wall, more graffiti. Alright, not that exciting yet, but it allows him to zone out.

He isn't sure why Daichi is continuing to put up with this, but he is self-aware enough to realize that it is unfair to Daichi to push that on him. He's not in a mood where he particularly wants a ton of comforting and coddling, either, and whether it's by chance or not that Daichi realizes that, Suga is thankful.

"So."

It's Daichi who breaks the silence, probably half an hour later, when they're starting to really get out of the city.

Suga raises his head enough to show that he heard him.

"Uhh…" And just like that, Daichi stalls out again. Suga turns to him, eyebrow raised, trying not to frown. "This feels too much like smalltalk," Daichi explains. "I get to bother you for the next four and a half hours, and now I'm blanking on anything that isn't completely insensitive."

"You can't upset me further," Suga points out. "Hit me."

Daichi glances at him out of the corner of his eye. Suga raises both eyebrows. "…Alright, then what do ghosts feel like?"

Suga doesn't point out that Daichi has technically felt a ghost before. It's also not what he was expecting. "I guess… pretty normal? They're about room temperature, but solid, and they feel like skin…" He holds up his arm and squishes it. "Once you get used to the temperature difference, it's pretty normal."

"I'm still getting used to you," Daichi replies before he can stop himself. He looks nervous now, but Suga manages to smile back at him. "I didn't mean it like that—"

"You're fine, Daichi. You're the one who gets to deal with a zombie boyfriend."

"I thought you didn't like that term."

"I don't," Suga replies shortly.

Daichi quickly steers the conversation in a different direction. "What's the grossest magicky thing you've had to fight?"

"…Zombies," Suga replies after a guilty pause. Daichi groans. "It was only once, and I swear it wasn't mine!"

"That's not what I need to hear you denying!"

"I don't raise zombies!"

"Then what do necromancers do?!" Daichi exclaims like he's been wondering that for a long time.

"Black magic, I guess," Suga begins, and Daichi lets out a hugely relieved sigh. Suga's smile widens. "You were nervous about that?"

"Kiyoko doesn't seem to like it, and you get touchy about some things… I didn't want to overstep anything."

Daichi is still new to all of this, Suga is reminded, and he thoughtfully drums his fingers against his leg before answering, "I come with baggage, admittedly, but I don't want you to ever be scared of asking me about things, Daichi. I promised you that I'd help you through this."

"You're saying it like magic is some sort of trauma."

"We-ell—"

"Just tell me what necromancers do," Daichi interrupts with another sigh.

"Technically speaking, there's a lot of overlap with exorcists. That's how I got started. But… yeah, I guess necromancers can raise the dead. Zombies themselves are actually pretty rare, and pretty useless, too—there's other things that would be more useful if you wanted a bodyguard, or a mindless servant, or a sacrifice, for example."

Daichi nods along, and turns the music back down. Suga takes this as a good thing. Getting the chance to talk with Daichi for long periods of time like this was one of the few things Suga wasn't dreading.

He explains the difference between black magic and what people normally think of as magic, and different things he has done, and even gets to gush briefly about the complete set of silver bells that Yui had given him for their high school graduation.

"Bells?" Daichi repeats in surprise.

"Yes, bells. It was half a joke, since I could hardly use them, and now I totally can't. But you can use them to banish spirits, call them toward you, combine them with certain spells, all kinds of things. And honestly, they're really pretty, too. I'll show you them when we get back."

"Why can't you use them anymore?"

Suga purses his lips and tries not to be irritated. He doesn't know the obvious stuff, he reminds himself already. "Because they affect dead things. I found that out the hard way—that's actually how I found out I hadn't simply… come back to life."

"Oh. Sorry." At least he sounds genuinely apologetic.

Suga sets his chin on his cast hand and stares out the window again. He wishes everything weren't such a landmine. "They're really pretty, at least. It's kind of a big deal that Yui tracked down a full set to give to me. Kiyoko had been furious at the time, too… Come to think, I only ever used them twice, and it was the same one both times." Things had never been bad enough that he'd considered selling them for rent, but honestly, they'd be pretty high on the list of Things To Spitefully Go Homeless With Instead Of Sell.

Even if they are useless now.

"Dangerous but pretty describes a lot of things I've come to associate with you. Or, y'know, you," Daichi tells him, and Suga can practically hear his embarrassment. "Okay, not taking the bait there, so… What's your favorite spell to use?"

Suga snorts. "Not sure if I have a favorite, but sleep spells are pretty damn handy. Kiyoko has a light spell that Yui wrote for her that's really gorgeous. It's kind of glittery and she can make it change colors."

"Wrote for her?"

"She was a spellwriter."

"What is that," Daichi asks incredulously.

"It makes she could make new complex spells. It means she enabled my dangerous but pretty research," Suga replies, then sighs. "Sorry, but how about I ask some questions now? We can talk magic again later."

"Alright, shoot," Daichi easily replies. Suga finally turns to him again, and finds him smiling, with just as much warmth and comfort as his voice had.

"Your family," Suga starts. "Tell me about them?"

"Well, I'm an only child…"

The conversation lapses back into better territory, and Suga feels himself relaxing into the smoothness of Daichi's deep voice. They're well out of the city by now, passing by forests and little bursts of suburbs, but houses come less and less frequently. The weather this far out has all been true winter, too, as evidenced by the snow still high on the ground, piled next to the shoulders of the highway. The road is clear, at least, and Daichi doesn't seem to have any issue with driving; he leans back, one hand on the wheel, and glances at Suga every so often to give him grins and prod at his side.

For a drive, it's certainly not bad.

Suga learns that Daichi's immediate family is small—him and his parents, and mostly his mother at that—but his overall family is huge, and he grew up with cousins like siblings and a small town that was more like even more extended family. He finds that Daichi isn't the only gay member of his family ("No, I'm not the gay cousin, what does that even mean"), he had dogs growing up, is referred to as an uncle for at least half of his cousins' kids, and Sawamura is actually his mother's surname.

Suga politely deflects most of the questions about his own family.

"You're, uh, actually the first guy I've brought home," Daichi admits with a furiously red face about halfway through their drive.

Suga, slowly, breaks into a grin of his own. "How scandalous, Daichi. Am I going to be the talk of dinner?"

"Please. My cousin married a French model. You'll have to be more than just dazzlingly attractive."

"Why are you so complimentary today?"

"I'm bringing my boyfriend home to meet my family," Daichi deadpans, "so I'm allowed to be extra gay. Deal with it."

A nervous thrill that isn't entirely bad goes through Suga. He hides his pleased smile with his cast. "I'll allow this. Please, compliment me on my dazzling attractiveness more, since it's one of the few things I can handle compliments about right now."

Daichi takes in a dramatically deep breath and Suga cannot brace himself enough. "Ethereal," Daichi begins with, and already Suga knows he's lost, "and one-of-a-kind. Handsome, and gorgeous, and almost stylish, and elegant when you're not tripping over cat toys or books. Bright, ravishing, stunning, hmm, what else—"

"S-Stop, stop stop, that's not fair!" Suga isn't sure he's blushed so hard in his life, but he's smiling again, and almost doesn't feel guilty for it.

"That's what you get for fishing for compliments from a bookworm," Daichi smartly replies.

Suga refuses to answer and instead whines into his hands. They lapse back into a mostly comfortable silence while Suga works off his embarrassment, and he alternates between trying to formulate a worthy response (he's better with this stuff on the fly, not when he overworks his phrasing to death) and staring out the window.

Even with as up and down as this has already been, he's feeling better, on the whole. He's glad he can at least be this way around Daichi, since he deserves it.

They stop once for gas and food and to stretch their sore legs, and aside from Suga joking about the gas station's bathroom being haunted—it wasn't, it was only a little lost nisse that he gave a couple of his fries to—conversation is sparse between them.

Suga actually dozes off a bit during the second leg of the journey. It's not restful, or at least doesn't decrease how tired he feels, but it does make the time pass.

When he wakes back up, he has a crick in his neck, it's dark out, Daichi is humming along to Cher again, and they're pulling off of the highway. Suga blinks blearily at the fat snowflakes falling down in front of the headlights. The snow here is even thicker than what they've seen so far, and not plowed as thoroughly as the highways, either. "We there?" Suga asks around a yawn.

"Almost. We're staying on the outskirts of town, but it's on the other side. So you get the grand tour," Daichi proclaims.

The grand tour turns out to be two stoplights, an empty main street, and a shockingly picturesque, snowy town. Suga, city born and raised, thinks it's cute but also privately wonders if Daichi is aware of how much this looks like the stereotypical ghost town. All they're missing is the fog and radio static.

Suga jumps when the car's stereo does fuzz out for a moment.

"Sorry, just unplugging my phone," Daichi says, and Suga isn't sure if he noticed his jumpiness or not. "Hold on, let me call Haruna. I'll need to pick up the keys."

Suga nods and resumes his staring out at the silent town. It's definitely a far cry from the city, and Suga isn't sure how big it actually is, except it takes about fifteen minutes to drive through at a crawl, so it has to be pretty tiny. He saw one gas station and what may have been a grocery store, and two cemeteries. (He would've laughed if Daichi weren't on the phone.)

There's a bridge over a little river near the edge of town, and they turn off just past that to an icy gravel road. Daichi has no problems driving on it, but Suga's grip tightens on his seatbelt anyway.

"Here we go," Daichi says with obvious pride. They pull up to a lodge that looks like it's made of logs, and Suga makes to get out because it's ten kinds of charming, but Daichi quickly shakes his head. "I'll just go in myself and grab it—this isn't where we're staying. Stay put."

Confused, Suga just nods, and Daichi leaves him in the still-running car. This close to the end of the trip, he's itching to get out and properly stretch, not to mention the antsiness of being in a vehicle so long. He doesn't really have his phone as a distraction, either; he's still maybe-mad at Kiyoko, Tooru hasn't answered him, and he and Yuu are equally rocky.

Daichi comes back out pretty fast, and Suga is relieved, until he sees a woman following him out. Practically chasing him out. "I gotta go, thanks for the cabin, Haru!" he calls back over his shoulder.

"Sawamura, get back here—!"

Suga wonders if he should be locking the door as a defense when Daichi all but throws himself into the driver's side. He doesn't buckle himself and instead pulls out of park by the time the woman reaches the car and bangs on the window.

She freezes when she sees Suga. Suga stares back like a particularly frightened rabbit.

Daichi just groans and slumps down into his seat.

"Your mom's gonna kill you," she says, voice muffled but still perfectly audible.

"I'll deal with it," Daichi tells her through the window. "I'll talk to you tomorrow! Bye!" He hardly waits for her to step back before they pull out, with probably a little too much speed considering the snow. Suga is surprised he hasn't torn the seatbelt in two yet.

"Daichi," Suga begins, and Daichi purses his lips and squints out into the snowy night.

"It's about ten minutes out, we're lucky we get one of the cabins with water."

"Daichi, is there some sort of family drama you're about to throw me into?" Suga gently asks.

"Not really."

"Are you not out to your family?" Suga asks, and this time his voice drops down into a horrified whisper. In hindsight, Daichi had never explicitly said so—just that Suga was the first guy he'd be bringing home.

Daichi's head snaps around to his with similar concern. "No! That's not it, I wouldn't do that without warning you. My mom's known I've been gay since high school."

"Then why was your cousin looking like she wanted to drag you back to yell at?"

"You may be a surprise. In general," Daichi admits.

Suga wishes he could reach with his cast to whack him, but his uninjured hand will have to go, and Daichi yelps when it collides with his shoulder.

"She knows you're coming! I told you, I've brought friends home before. But, uh, never a boyfriend."

"When were you planning on telling me this?!"

"Once we were out of a moving vehicle so someone doesn't try to assault the driver, for starters!"

Suga glares at him until they pull up to an incredibly rustic wood cabin. Suga isn't sure what he'd been expecting, but not as literal as this turns out to be: there's a little porch, and a chimney, and a stack of firewood set against one side beneath a tarp. It's not large, but it is sort of cute, and looks a lot like a holiday card with how neatly the snow sits over it all.

"They didn't even shovel it," Daichi mutters as they park. "At least you're in boots. I'll take care of it tomorrow morning."

Suga stays stubbornly silent as they haul in their bags. He takes one trip, but Daichi takes two, coming back in with some of the wood, and Suga looks around for a lightswitch in the meantime. He uses his phone as a flashlight and doesn't understand why Daichi chuckles until he hears the click of a lighter.

Daichi kneels beside the little fireplace and lights part of a newspaper on fire. He waits for it to catch before putting it in on the pile of coals. Suga gapes at him, and Daichi pretends to ignore him until they have a tiny fire going.

Daichi lights a couple of candles on the table, and the cabin is now lit enough for Suga to see that it's all one room. There are windows on three of the walls, and a huge bed pushed into the corner, opposite the fireplace. There's a small kitchen in the other corner, next to a little table, and shelves with books and a couple of board games along the windowless wall.

Suga doesn't see any lights overhead. "Seriously?" he asks incredulously.

"I told you we'd be camping out."

"In a cabin."

"At least this one has running water, two of them still don't," Daichi points out. He lights another candle and sets it on the nightstand by the bed, then goes back to poke at the fire.

Suga squats down beside him, draws a rune on Daichi's back, and murmurs, "Fire." A flame the size of his fist appears over his cast and he shoves it into the fireplace to speed things along. "Let me guess, this is our only source of heat, too?"

"These things are really well insulated," Daichi replies defensively. He doesn't meet Suga's eyes. "And you also have me? There's only one bed—I hope that's alright, I assumed it would be since you already like to cuddle—"

"You don't get to be cute, I'm still annoyed," Suga tells him. "We'll revisit the caveman stuff later, but right now, spill. Family details. Now."

Daichi sighs, then shifts so they're facing each other, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. Suga's eyes have adjusted to the darkness and the fire is growing, so the room is bathed in romantic, soft orange. It tugs at Suga's need for sappy comfort but he stays strong because he did not abandon one type of stress for another.

"I didn't tell my family we were dating. That's it," Daichi says easily. Suga pinches his leg. "Ow! What else do you want me to say?"

"When were you planning on telling me this!"

"Right now! I promise you, Suga, it's not a big deal. Haruna's not going to tell anyone, and it's not as if my mom won't completely adore you. This is all coming down on me, trust me." Daichi takes Suga's hands, thumb brushing across the edge of the cast, and Suga melts against his will. "It just means she'll check for rings, even though we haven't been together for that long, and she'll probably ask if you intend to take my last name."

Suga flushes and tries his best to scowl. "And what if I wanted you to be Sugawara Daichi?"

"Then take it up with my mother."

The nerves have returned, but quieter now, and nothing that can't wait for tomorrow. The flickering firelight, on the other hand, is a very present issue. "Okay, but noelectricity?"

"Now's a bad time to tell you that the outhouse is a five minute walk, huh?"

"You're shitting me. Daichi, you're joking, right?"

Daichi grins, sheepish and apologetic, and Suga sort of wants to set the cabin on fire.

"You want me to meet your parents—"

"Mother, dad won't be home for a few days—"

"—when I haven't showered and you want me to use an outhouse in the middle of the woods in the middle of a country winter. It's probably haunted, too, right?"

"This trip is about you getting away from your job. No hauntings allowed. Yes, I should've warned you, but I wasn't going to completely dunk you into this with no warning. And I'll be here with you for all of this. This is our semi-romantic, totally stress-free getaway, remember?"

Suga, who has cried twice, almost had one anxiety attack, just finished the second-longest car ride of his life, and is starting to talk himself into arson in order to warm up, cuffs Daichi upside the head with his cast.

It almost makes him feel better.

The kiss he follows up with does make him feel better.

-.-.-

Tadashi does not expect to open his door to find one Kozume Kenma standing on his doorstep. "Um—?"

"Can we use your couch for a night or two? Kenma says he'll make a spell for you as payment," says the demon who rises up out of Kenma's shadow. Tadashi starts, but opens the door to let them both in.

"You don't have to—" he begins, but Kuroo gives him such a look that he bites his tongue. "Um. W-Well… welcome? Is your apartment still too rough on you?"

"Yes," Kenma replies shortly. He only has a backpack with him, and it looks like the clothes he's wearing aren't the proper size for him. He looks around for a moment, then shuffles over to the couch, and gently deposits his bag onto the very edge of it. "Where's Tsukishima?"

"Tsukki's grabbing food for us," Tadashi replies. (Kei had been personally insulted that Tadashi didn't have strawberries for his pancakes. Luck pancakes were now a thing with them, but as sick of them as they are, Tadashi couldn't say no to the expression Kei had made.) "I guess I can't text him, but…"

"We don't need food," Kenma says despite the wounded look Kuroo shoots him.

"I don't mind," Tadashi awkwardly replies. This is already uncomfortable, and he doesn't know how to fix it. And, unfortunately, he feels like it's only going to get worse when Kei gets home. "Uh, so, how was your stay with Akaashi?"

Kenma's expression shutters further.

"That bad, huh…"

"I was thinking an intangibility spell," Kenma says flatly. Tadashi blinks at him. "I can write you an intangibility spell. You could pass through objects like Tsukishima can. That'd be useful for a hunter, right?" It's only at the end that his voice betrays any uncertainty, and Tadashi is actually very glad to see that Kenma isn't quite as distant as he seems.

He then process that A: Kenma is viewing him as a hunter already, and B: he could walk through shit like Kei. "Wait, you can do that?" Tadashi exclaims, caught between impressed and excited. He leans forward, and Kenma leans back with a bit of color appearing in his cheeks.

"I-I am a spellwriter…" he mumbles.

"Kenma can do anything," Kuroo adds. Kenma frowns. "Well, within reason, but apparently walking through walls is within reason for witches. Who knew?"

"Yes! I mean—that'd be awesome! What do you need to do that?" He doesn't want to, but he'll fight another dozen jiangshi for the prospect of his turn spooking Kei through walls.

"Um… I won't really know until I get started. I wasn't sure if you'd like that—"

"Who wouldn't want to?"

Kenma, to his credit, does not point out Kei's own reservations about his ghostliness. "I'll work on that for you, then. I'm, um, not quite sure how long I'd like to stay here, but…"

"You can stay as long as you want!"

"I really can't, but, uh, thank you," Kenma replies and sounds twice as awkward as before.

Tadashi isn't sure how to salvage this; Kenma is only withdrawing further, and Tadashi's attempts at being nice only seem to make it worse. He catches Kuroo's eye, and the demon just shakes his head. He has no idea what that means.

He goes to his last hope at getting Kenma to stop looking so small and uncomfortable on his couch.

"Wanna play Mario Kart before Tsukki gets back?"

Kenma's eyes light up and he's reaching for a controller before Tadashi can even grin. They're less than a race into it—Kenma chooses Rainbow Road with little remorse and Kuroo cackles, even despite Tadashi's squawk of protest—by the time Kenma fully relaxes, shoulders coming down from around his ears. Kuroo flops down beside him, one arm around Kenma's shoulders, and when Tadashi raises an eyebrow at their closeness, Kuroo just winks at him.

Kuroo leans down and kisses Kenma on the mouth. On the screen, Link falls off of the road and Baby Peach quickly overtakes him. Tadashi hides his snickers (and confusion) with his controller as he takes the win on the map.

"So you two are…?" Tadashi prompts. Kuroo gives him a blank stare, and Kenma just focuses further on the next round. "Together?"

"I'm usually together with Kenma."

"Like, dating. L-Like me and Tsukki, now, I guess." He can't help but add the last part, glowing with equal parts pride and happiness, and Kuroo grins back at him.

"Yeah! We can go on double dates together, and—"

"Kuro, shush," Kenma grumbles. Tadashi can't see his face from this angle, but the tips of his ears are definitely red.

"So, Kenma, what's it like to smooch a demon?" Tadashi asks, grin widening, and he flops his weight against Kenma. The witch jumps, but doesn't shy again, instead pinned between them. (His racing suffers, which is Tadashi's true goal, though getting to talk to someone like this is certainly a close second.)

"Wanna find out?" Kuroo purrs, leaning over Kenma's head, closing the distance between him and Tadashi.

Tadashi squeaks and rapidly backs up. He's not sure how much blood is now in his face, but he feels like it's most of it, and Baby Peach skids right into a banana peel on the television.

"That's what I thought," Kuroo replies smugly.

By the time Kei returns, utterly unprepared, the games have escalated: Tadashi is cussing at the top of his lungs and Kenma has switched into hissed Russian, both of them gesturing far too much for smooth racing. He takes two steps into the apartment, halts, and his scowl dips into sheer disgust when Kuroo, draped across the back of the couch, calls, "Tsukki, you're home! We're gonna go on a double date!"

Kei turns on his heel and leaves through the door again.

-.-.-

Akaashi is the literal last person Iwaizumi wants to see when he already feels this shitty. The tengu have refused to feed them, and only gave them water once, and sleeping in a cold jail cell isn't something he'd wanted to experience again in his life. (At least they could sleep, since Miyanoshita offered to knock them out with a sleep spell. They were both desperate enough to take her up on the offer.)

Even if Akaashi is their way out, it doesn't mean Iwaizumi has to be happy about staring up at the barn owl tengu. Akaashi makes a face vaguely like they'd stepped in something foul as they approach the cell. It looks like they're in some sort of uniform, too, armored and important and fuck, it's exactly what they'd been wearing when they had attacked Iwaizumi. He swallows thickly and tears his gaze away, damned if it comes off as submissive or not.

They don't immediately address Tooru or Iwaizumi, however, and instead stare at the figure in the other cell. "Who is this?" they ask the crow guard next to them.

"Not owl business."

Akaashi's eyes narrow, and they step over closer to Iwaizumi's cell.

And then another owl bounds in after them, out of breath, and not in the same type of uniform. He's bigger, both in height and build, wings patterned grey and brown, his hair straight up in absurd spikes of white and black and more grey. He looks completely absurd, even if he's bigger than Iwaizumi, but Iwaizumi isn't actually scared of him until he realizes who he is.

And no, Iwaizumi had been wrong. This is the last person he'd wanted to see.

Akaashi looks severely uncomfortable as the other owl tengu sidles up to them and stares down at the three in the cell. "Wow, Oikawa, you look terrible," he says conversationally.

Iwaizumi pulls the deerskin tighter around himself and refuses to look either of them in the eye. If Akaashi didn't tell him who he is, then it's a greater kindness than Iwaizumi deserves, if that is who he thinks it is. (Who else would Akaashi bother bringing?)

"Can we leave now?" Tooru asks hoarsely.

"How did you even get here?" Akaashi asks in reply.

Tooru grunts as he sits up, and it's not unnoticed that he shuffles around to put himself in between the tengu and Iwaizumi. "We were escaping the Dreamlands, and we didn't know we'd end up here. It was an accident, and it wasn't like we hurt anyone, so can we go?"

"They said they were owl tengu friend," the crow guard says in little more than a growl.

"Yes," Akaashi replies in a sigh. And, in a move that surprises all of them, they add, "They are."

"All three of them?" the crow presses suspiciously.

Akaashi balks at lying again, for a moment too long. "I'll take responsibility," they say, cutting across the guard, and stand to their full height.

It's not quite enough, not until their friend does the same, seeming twice as large despite the actually slight difference in size. "We can take it from here. It's not crow business," he pointedly adds.

The guard has nothing to say to that. After a little bit of hushed arguing and what sounds like paperwork, Akaashi is undoing the magical locks to their cell, and the three inside look up at them with gratitude and surprise. "Let's go," they say flatly.

Tooru keeps close to Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi keeps his head down and deerskin wrapped tight around himself. Miyanoshita follows them, one hand twisted in the edge of the skin, and sends one last, regretful look at the man in the other cell as they leave.

Akaashi makes a quiet motion as they're led out, and Iwaizumi is more than happy to comply. Akaashi's friend, whoever, seems to disagree. "Dreamlands! That place sounds like a mess, how exactly did you get out of it? Isn't that the place that fucked up Sugawara, Akaashi?"

"Yes, Bokuto," Akaashi replies thinly. That confirms it: Iwaizumi knows that name. This is the one he stole the egg from.

"That's a word for it," Tooru mutters under his breath.

"He's not the only one," Iwaizumi adds. Tooru scowls at him.

"Not here," Akaashi orders. Bokuto whines, and the other three remain silent as they are led through winding streets. Iwaizumi notices that their wings are blackened in several places like they've been charred, and they're missing feathers, too; he wonders if they can even fly like that.

Tooru tightens his arm around Iwaizumi's shoulders, and he quiets his thoughts, ducking his head again.

He's not sure when exactly they pass into owl tengu territory, but it becomes obvious enough when Akaashi slowly relaxes, and even Bokuto seems to open up more. "What stuffy crows!" he says with a stretch of his wings. "Who was that other guy they had locked up? I haven't heard of anyone else they were detaining."

"They called him a thief," Miyanoshita volunteers.

Akaashi glances back at Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi realizes what the look means half a beat before Tooru reads it from his mind. "The thief!" Tooru screeches, loudly enough to make both tengu jump. "That was the other egg thief, wasn't it! That was the other one!"

"Other?" Akaashi asks flatly, giving Iwaizumi another, sharper look.

"No, not him, there's—there's been someone else doing things—"

"Not him?" Bokuto asks, cocking his head at Iwaizumi. "Right, who are you other two? Why are we bailing them out, too? I thought only Oikawa was—"

"We need to go back to that jail right now, I need to figure out what he's doing," Tooru declares. Iwaizumi barely reacts in time to wrap both his arms around his middle, keeping him there, even if he has to put his weight into it.

"You are not going back to tengu jail," Iwaizumi hisses at him.

"He has the other answers we need! I told you, I wasn't crazy, there really is someone else trying to summon an old god!" Tooru insists, pushing at him in vain.

Iwaizumi hates that he can feel how weak Tooru's gotten from this entire trip. He picks him up, whirls around, and puts him down again in front of Akaashi. "Escort him out before he does something stupid, like get himself arrested again."

"We need the answers! We might be able to stop Ushijima, but—" Tooru cuts himself off and his head snaps around so fast it's a miracle he doesn't break his neck.

He's staring, hard, at Bokuto. Akaashi steps in between them at the same time Iwaizumi realizes the deerskin has slipped off his shoulders, revealing his tattoos.

"Koutarou," Akaashi breathes, almost too quiet to hear. They place a hand on Bokuto's wing, making him start, but he continues staring at Iwaizumi with an expression Iwaizumi wishes he could identify.

"He's the one who stole it?" he asks in a terrifyingly neutral voice.

"Yes," Akaashi says.

"Then why are we letting him out?! He stole my egg, he hurt you, and now we're taking him out of jail?!"

"If you put him back in there, they'll find out who he is," Tooru pleads. He crouches down, just slightly, so he can look up at them both.

To Iwaizumi's surprise, Miyanoshita comes around to stand between him and the tengu as well. "They'll kill him, or keep him locked up like that other guy, to starve down to nothing. Do you really want to let them execute him?"

"Only Oikawa is tengu friend here," Akaashi coolly reminds her, but she remains strong, even if her ears are low against her dark hair. "Bokuto, I wouldn't argue if you wanted to return him to the crows. Or even give him over to our authorities, since it was our crime."

"You're the authorities," Tooru points out with a derisive snort at Akaashi's uniform. "You already tried to drag him back once, even though he's the one who returned the egg. He deserves the title of tengu friend more than me or Suga—"

"Never," Akaashi hisses.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Bokuto demands of Iwaizumi.

He ducks his head again. "I know what I've done," he quietly replies.

"Please, just let us go home. We're sick, and exhausted, and we have to try to stop two more plots to end the world. You're honor-bound to help me," Tooru almost begs. "He's Suga's friend, too. He's helping us, and I—I need him."

"It's Bokuto's decision," Akaashi tells them. "And he's not the tengu friend, anyway. Your status only goes so far."

"Then I trade!" Tooru exclaims. Both tengu focus on him, and he stands up to his full height. Despite the weakness in his frame and his dirty, disheveled appearance, his eyes flash and his voice is strong when he declares, "I'll exchange my tengu friend status for forgiveness of Iwaizumi's crimes and safe escort out of the realm. You got your egg back, no one was killed in the theft, and he doesn't want to stay or return here. We'll stay out of your feathers."

"Oikawa, don't," Iwaizumi growls at him. Who knows what kind of trouble he's going to get himself into in the future, but especially if he wants a shot at any more information about that egg thief, he shouldn't be throwing this away. It's not like either of them have actually made any threats on Iwaizumi's life yet, either.

"Can he do that?" Bokuto asks in a low voice.

"I don't think so," Akaashi whispers back.

"You wouldn't have to come bail me out of jail ever again," Tooru presses, desperately, "or deal with animal skins or rogue gods or angels. Wash your hands of us. I know you want to."

"Why do you think I'll allow that? I have my pride, you know," Bokuto replies. He crosses his arms and cocks his head back, gold eyes piercing but narrowed. "Are you going to let the human keep speaking for you, huh?"

"Do what you will," is the only answer he can give him. He's not going to pick a fight when they're all exhausted, and he doesn't have any skins, either. Trying would only get Tooru and Miyanoshita hurt, or worse.

Akaashi sighs, and pulls on Bokuto's wing until he unfolds them. "Let's get them out of here before the psychic collapses."

"Fine," Bokuto relents almost at once. With a jerk of his head, they begin leading again, and it takes a few moments for the baffled trio to follow. "Dunno why you thought I was so bloodthirsty, anyway. I think a strong wind would knock them over. What kind of fight would that be?!"

"Let's avoid more fights for the time being," Akaashi replies evenly. They cast a pointed look over their shoulder. "We'll discuss Oikawa's proposition later. A safe escort out is the least we can do right now."

"So polite," Tooru coos, and Iwaizumi slaps him upside the head for it.

He almost thinks he sees Akaashi smile at that.

-.-.-

Taichi jumps when Kenjirou slips in beside him. "You just missed my cellmates," he says without preamble, settling back against the wall. Kenjirou makes a curious noise, scooting closer, just short of touching. It's not like they'd feel anything, but it's nice to pretend.

"Is it safe?" Kenjirou asked. The prison chamber is as empty as it usually is when he visits, but they've had some close calls in the past.

"For now."

"So, cellmates?" he prompts, because Taichi can be infuriatingly circumspect at times. Taichi nods. "What happened?"

"Three of them, and one of them was a baku. They were sweating an awful lot, I thought I could strike some sort of deal…"

"Because making friends with tengu criminals would help."

"What have you been doing lately?" Taichi asks lightly, and Kenjirou turns from him with a huff. "They were sort of a wreck, anyway, and one of them was a tengu friend. I don't think they'd be helpful."

"I'm working on it," Kenjirou replies in little more than a mumble. He crouches down further, arms folded defensively, and Taichi gives him a tired smile.

"I know."

"The witch I told you about died," he says. Taichi's eyebrows raise, but doesn't ask. "He reanimated, too. I think he's legitimately deathless, not some bullshit. We will get you out of here."

"I don't doubt that," Taichi replies like it's really that simple. It reassures Kenjirou in a way he'd he needed, even if the guilt at letting Taichi remain in jail for all this time still sits heavily. "They were thrown in here because they broke into the realm."

"How do you break into a realm?!" Kenjirou asks, head snapping back up. He'd seen what kind of hoops Ushijima had gone through in order to get his master to open a door to Tartarus, and it had been no small feat.

Of course, Taichi only shrugs. "Who knows. They said they were in the Dreamlands, though. Never heard of it."

"Me neither…" So if they didn't get here from the human realm, maybe it wasn't that valuable of information, after all. Maybe he'll float it by Ushijima anyway, just to see if he can do something with it. He seems to create an awful lot of miracles out of nothing. "We're almost done getting everything together for that thing of his."

"And you really think this is the best plan?" Taichi asks. He says it without any judgment—they've had this discussion before, and Taichi had hardly ever acted anything but mildly interested in Kenjirou's plans to spring him from jail, because he's an ass—but Kenjirou still winces.

"…They're not bad. Okay, the fox is a jackass, but they feed me and aren't too nosy. The witch is as strong as he says he is, and I don't think we should make enemies of them."

"Okay, but I still sort of think that summoning a Great Old One is overkill."

"I dunno why they're doing it."

"It's overkill for me."

Kenjirou snorts, ears flicking low. He opens his mouth to reply—we're both in this too deep, don't you think, Tai—but is jarred abruptly back into his body by what feels like a bucket of frigid water.

He coughs and splutters, limbs aching with the sudden shift, and finds that he is, indeed, sopping wet. Kenjirou cracks open an eye to glare up at the two standing over him. He's entirely unsurprised to see that Tendou is holding an empty bucket. "Ahh, look, I told you witch water would work!" he says with a happy wag of his tail.

Kenjirou shakes his head and swipes his wet bangs out of his eyes, then resumes glaring up at them. "What the shit."

"Sorry for the rude awakening," Ushijima says, not sounding sorry. "But you weren't sleeping, were you?"

Kenjirou told them he'd be sleeping, but how the hell did they figure out that the invisible person wasn't sleeping when he went quiet? Before he can retort, however, he sees the way both their gazes rove over him, far too pointed.

He looks down in fresh horror at himself. "You dumped witch water on me?" he demands, not sure how insulted he should be. "What, you didn't trust me?"

"No, we just wanted to see if you had hooves or not," Ushijima replies, perfectly serious.

Kenjirou gapes up at him. Tendou doesn't even try to hide his snickering. "And I win the bet! What a surprise."

Kenjirou has never given much thought to his appearance—being unable to turn visible at will like Taichi would do that to a person—but now he feels strangely self-conscious. One broken antler, the dark fur on his legs is matted and dirty, and of course now he's re-thinking the whole hooves thing, too. He hides his black nails in his sleeves and refuses to look at either of them, ears hanging low.

"I know what he is," Tendou adds with pride.

"Huh," Kenjirou grunts back.

"You were projecting over to check on your friend, right? And the whole faun thing—"

"I'm not a faun."

"Didn't say you were! You're a tariaksuq, right?"

Kenjirou has never been correctly identified before; neither he nor Taichi are from this part of the world, nor are they particularly friendly people themselves. It's uncomfortable, since he's always felt safe in his relative anonymity, and it's not as if he particularly trusts these two, either.

"Do you have any other useful skills?" Ushijima asks and kneels down beside him. Tendou, as a fox, plops down on his other side, tail still half-wagging.

"If you stole back my other antler, you could probably use it as an invisibility charm…?" he guesses. He's not built for (or used to) operating with teams. Tariaksuq are supposed to be solitary, stealthy hunters, not fighters masterminding an apocalypse.

"He's a walking ball of stealth, if you get rid of the clompy hooves. Even without the tengu egg thing, you're a valuable addition," Tendou brightly informs him. Kenjirou scuffles his heels against the shitty carpet and scowls. He's starting to dry, at least, but who knows how long it'll be until he's unseen again? Too long.

Sensing his discomfort, Ushijima makes a couple marks in the air and hovers his hands over Kenjirou. He feels the heat, like the world's gentlest blow drier, and soon he's dry again, likely disappearing before their eyes. (He's glad, since he's beginning to look like a particularly fluffy cat.) "Does this help?"

"Uh, thank you," Kenjirou mutters. He still doesn't know how to read these guys. Ushijima's hand brushes his broken antler, just for a split-second, but he can't hide his flinch. "…Don't dunk me in that shit again, and I'll keep helping you. You two can have the spotlight and do whatever you want with that god of yours. I'll stick in the shadows and just get my friend back."

"Would you tell us when you're sleeping as opposed to projecting? We need to know when you're able to wake up at a moment's notice without hurting you," Ushijima asks, and Kenjirou does not remind them of what they'd just done. "We also may have to use that power of yours in the future."

"You say we an awful lot. I thought this was your plan?"

Ushijima and Tendou share a stupidly bewildered look. "Jealous?" Tendou asks eagerly.

"As if," Kenjirou replies, nose in the air. "If I'm getting dragged along on someone else's gay adventure, I feel like I ought to be warned about it."

"So you have a gay adventure?"

"That's not what I said!"

"I can't believe we get to rescue Shirabu's beloved from tengu jail. Northot must be so pleased we're fighting for truth and love."

"I guess neither of you care about the other prisoners the tengu had," Kenjirou says in a last-ditch attempt to push Tendou's teasing away. Ushijima puts up a hand, and the fox spirit falls silent, both of them staring hard at him. "Apparently, three people broke into tengu space from a place called the Dreamlands. And they had tengu connections, so they were escorted out instead of getting executed."

Kenjirou does not expect the inappropriate level of interest Ushijima displays. He leans in close, far too close, and he scrambles out of the way to preserve a little bit of space from the intense witch. "Do you know who these people are? Does your friend know?"

"I could probably find out. But we have to wait, since I was so rudely pulled out last time."

"Find out," Ushijima orders.

"Someone's happy to hear this," Tendou remarks; so Kenjirou isn't the only one left in the dark here. Good to know. "Ah, I must be a luck spirit. Unfortunate death aside, things have been going so well lately!"

Kenjirou is now certain he's gotten saddled with a pair of loons.

-.-.-

Daichi stares fondly down at the sleeping figure in bed. (Daichi: up for an hour and a half, dressed, showered, and very hungry.) Suga's hair fans out over the pillow in wild but endearing waves, and even the drool spot beneath his cheek is kinda cute, in a I'm-glad-I'm-not-his-pillow way.

His shirt's been rucked up over his stomach in his sleep, revealing pale skin and the edge of one of his scars. (Another infuriatingly cute thing: Suga wears a shirt and boxers to bed, and Daichi is used to just pants; they match, which Suga happily pointed out. His mother is going to eat them alive.) "Suga," Daichi says, maybe a touch too quiet, "we have to get up now. We're meeting mom for brunch?"

Suga makes the tiniest sleep noise and otherwise does not stir.

"Sugaaaaa," Daichi tries again, this time shaking his shoulder. He knows Suga can sleep like the dead, and in fact already slept through both of Daichi's alarms. Daichi leans down and kisses Suga's cheek, and murmurs right into his ear, "Time to get up, sleepyhead."

Still nothing.

"I can help you shower."

Nope.

"I think Yamaguchi's set himself on fire."

No response.

Daichi sighs and stands up. He hadn't wanted to do this, but he has little choice if he wants to get Suga up in a timely manner. (They could have had the sweet, romantic wakeup together an hour ago, if Suga hadn't been as much of a lump then as he is now.) Daichi ducks outside, grabs a fistful of snow, and brings it back in. "Last chance, Suga," he says, loudly, and Suga just makes another sleepy sigh.

He puts the snow on Suga's exposed stomach and Suga wakes with a shriek.

His flailing manages to thwack Daichi in the side of the head with his cast, and he stumbles backward, narrowly avoiding a leg, too.

In an impressive display of reflexes, Suga scoops up the snowball with his uninjured hand and hits Daichi with it square in the sternum. Suga blinks a couple times, chest heaving, then narrows his eyes. "That was rude," he breathlessly points out.

"It got you up," Daichi replies. "But you still have to get up now. We have to go into town for food, remember?"

Suga looks like it takes him a long moment to remember that. He nods, but then eyes the bed again, and Daichi barely catches him before he flops back down. "Still tired," he groans, ten kinds of pathetic.

"We can go to bed earlier tonight." Suga had been restless last night, probably due to his night owl tendencies.

It takes no small amount of manhandling and snowy threats before Suga gets out of bed and starts rummaging around for clean clothes. Daichi tries not to watch creepily, but he's sort of conditioned to like sleepy Suga at this point; a ridiculous amount of good memories came directly from sleepy Suga's lack of filter.

Nothing along those lines happens that morning—for the best, he's sure—but Daichi does get treated to Suga's unhappy frown when he's informed that the shower is in the main building. "A brisk walk through the snow, or we can take the car. Your choice."

He chooses the car, big surprise. It takes about as long as it would've walking for the vehicle to warm up and for them to get out of the snow piled up through the night, but he delivers Suga in one piece and marginally warmer than he'd be having walked. Haruna, at the front desk, watches with big eyes and a poorly-hidden smirk as Suga marches back toward the bathroom.

Daichi leans an elbow against the counter, also watching. Haruna has the good sense to keep quiet until the door shuts behind him. "So, that's him, huh?" she immediately gushes.

"Our night was fine, thank you for asking. And you're welcome for shoveling the cabin free of all the snow. How's your morning going, Haru?" Daichi asks evenly in return.

She flicks his arm. Having known Suga and his brand of physical retaliation for this long, Daichi is unfazed. "Your mom's going to kill you," she repeats, "for springing this surprise. How long have you two been together? His name is Suga, right? What's he do, how old is he—?"

"We haven't been together long enough for mom to have half as much of a fit as you're having," Daichi wryly interrupts.

His cousin pouts, cheeks puffed, and she flicks him again. "He's too hot for you, Daichi. How did you wrangle him?"

"Believe it or not, he came onto me."

"I don't believe it. Not for one second."

Daichi shrugs, half-pleased for a reason he can't fully identify. "He was a regular at the bookstore, and one thing led to another." Bad flirting led to haunting led to unicorns led to other realms. "He has a cat," he adds.

"Okay, so your boyfriend has a cat. That's sure a lot of information," Haruna says flatly. "What made you decide to bring him home with you?"

"He's a city boy like you wouldn't believe. I'm having fun with that. Plus, what's wrong with a vacation?"

"What's he do for work?"

"Uhh," and that stalls Daichi out. He can't remember what Suga had initially told him, other than that he'd been suspicious of it—there were a lot of guesses he'd had about Suga's occupation before he'd been informed it was freelance exorcist. None of the guesses (stripper, mafia boss, homeless spy) seem smart to share with his family.

His awkward, trailing silence tips Haruna off, and she looks up from the computer to narrow her eyes. "Uhh?" she parrots back. "Do you not know? Is it a secret? Is it juicy?"

Maybe, just maybe, Suga had been right to worry about his family grilling him. Daichi knows she's being so forceful because it's him, and it's not as if Suga is particularly frail, and yet, he still feels off-guard.

Daichi is only saved by Suga's reappearance. He's pink from the shower and looks more awake now, and he runs a hand through his fluffy, dry hair to comb it out as he walks over to them. He gives Haruna a million-watt beam and Daichi can practically see her heart stutter in her chest. He knows the feeling.

After a quick, questioning glance, Suga leans over to kiss Daichi on the cheek. "Good morning."

"Fully conscious now?" Daichi asks, and Suga nods with a hardly-concealed yawn that speaks to the contrary.

Daichi does a quick introduction for them, not wanting Haruna to interrogate Suga when he's tired enough to be liable to say something bad, and they beat a fast retreat that he knows is only incriminating them further. He can talk out cover stories later.

They're hardly in the car before he gets a text from his mother. 'here & waiting' is all it says, and he wants to roll his eyes.

"Alright, so I don't know what you want to tell anyone about your job—" Daichi begins, only to be interrupted by Suga's snore as he flops against the car window.

It's a twenty minute drive, and as much as he'd like to figure this out beforehand, he does feel bad for his sleep-deprived boyfriend. (He may be spoiling him, and/or is whipped. Who knows which is worse.) And, he figures, he can just turn Suga loose once he's awake again. Daichi's mom may be a force of nature, but so is Suga, and he's been able to duck under the radar for a few years now.

His palms may be sweaty by the time they pull up to the little breakfast nook his parents adore, but on the outside, he's calm. "Suga, don't make me get the snow again," he says as he unbuckles, and Suga wrinkles his nose in distaste.

"If I fall asleep on someone's food, I can't be held responsible," he mumbles and, with great effort, slides out of the car. He reaches for Daichi's hand—he's already lost most of the shower heat and heaven forbid he ever wear gloves—and Daichi takes it on reflex, not realizing how this will seem until he's already walking in and his mother's eyes zoom in on them like a hawk's.

Sawamura Kaya stands up to her full height when they near; she doesn't quite come up to Daichi's shoulder, but he still grins sheepishly like he's already been reprimanded.

Suga preempts anything she could say by letting go of Daichi, grasping her hand in both of his, and giving her the warmest smile Daichi has ever seen from him (a feat). "You must be Mrs. Sawamura. It's wonderful to meet you, and thank you for having me with your family for the next few days."

If she's caught off guard by him, she certainly doesn't show it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sugawara. Daichi clearly hasn't said enough about you," she replies. She detaches his hands, then wraps her arms around him, giving him a tight squeeze. She's smiling now, at least, and Daichi relaxes—until she catches his eye over Suga's shoulder and mouths, "Boyfriend?"

The cat left that bag pretty quick. He shrugs, nods, and tries to tell himself he's not red in the face.

"Call me Kaya," she says when she lets Suga pull away (he wheezes a bit and Daichi would privately love for them to compare the strength of their physical affection one day). "Daichi refused to stay with us, but if you could talk some sense into him, you're more than welcome at our house."

"Suga's really looking forward to roughing it in the great outdoors, though, aren't you?" Daichi asks.

Suga doesn't bother hiding his scowl. "I wouldn't want to impose, or take away from a certain someone's fun at my expense."

Kaya finally lets them sit, and Suga's cast hand instantly finds his beneath the table. Daichi lets him squeeze his fingers. His mother, never one to miss an opportunity, reaches over and takes Suga's other hand, examining his of course naked ring finger with a level of intensity that makes Daichi want to sink through the floor. Suga, at least, does not make the mistake of trying to pull it back.

"Mom," Daichi warns.

"I'm just examining his nails. It looks like he needs another coat," she replies absently. Suga slowly turns redder, but his expression is one of dignified amusement. "So, how did you break your arm?"

Daichi was expecting how did you two meet or how long have you been dating or even when should I expect grandkids (Daichi was ready on that front with Sunshine and Dinah, actually, even if it's the one he's dreading the most and is the primary reason he didn't bring this up earlier), and apparently, Suga is similarly surprised, but only for a moment. "I had a bad fall on some ice," he replies with a sunny smile. "I'm healing, if slowly. Your son has been very good at helping me with things while I adjust."

Suga is wearing a thick knitted turtleneck, but Daichi knows there are still the remnants of bruises from that fall hidden from view. "He's usually a gentleman. Unless it comes to his mother," Kaya sighs. "He hardly wants to see me on this trip, it seems. I can't imagine why he'd want to hole up in a cabin, alone with you, out in the woods, for a week, and not even stop in for dinner."

"Mom," Daichi begs.

"We'd love to stop by," Suga tells her, utterly unperturbed by her assumptions or attitude.

"Good, good! We're having a family supper together on Thursday, make sure you two come! I won't hear any excuses from that son of mine, so you have my full permission to drag him out by whatever body part you see fit."

Suga giggles, and Daichi loudly changes the subject because his mother absolutely does not need to get this blunt about his (lack of) sex life. "Y'know, work's going fine, thanks for asking."

"What do you do for work, Suga dear?"

"I'm a freelancer," Suga replies, still smiling. Kaya nods, clearly hoping for more, but they're interrupted by the waitress coming to take their order.

By some miracle—Daichi would suspect magic if he didn't see both of Suga's hands for the entirety of their meal—Suga manages to avoid most questions about his personal life while not seeming like it. He answers enough to keep his mother from getting annoyed, asks her about herself and Daichi's childhood, and by the end of their brunch, Daichi is completely convinced that they're on the road to becoming partners in crime. The crime will be Daichi's dignity. He hasn't figured out yet if it will be a theft or a murder.

He knows his fate is sealed when they exchange numbers.

Suga's grinning into his fist when they're done waving goodbye, and Daichi can only stall is inevitable demise. "Want to walk around for a bit? I can show you the downtown area. All two buildings of it," he offers, even as he eyes how poorly dressed Suga is for the weather. It's not snowing today, but it's cold, colder than the city has been.

"Sure, but only if the grand tour is punctuated by stories from when you were a kid," he replies, still grinning, and lets Daichi lace their fingers together. The sidewalks haven't been shoveled for a day or two, but it's not slick enough to claim that's why Suga's leaning so heavily on him.

Daichi conjures up a couple of old stories (terrible things, honestly, but Suga eats them up) while they do a lap around a couple of the blocks downtown. There's not many people out, but those who are wave and smile at them, and one elderly couple even recognize Daichi and spend a few moments fawning fondly over him and complimenting Suga on everything from his scarf to his mole.

"Different from the city, huh?" Daichi asks with his own little grin, noticing the warm, practically gooey expression on his boyfriend's face.

"Definitely. People are so friendly here, but it's so quiet. And… tiny. Really, really tiny."

"It's forty-five minutes to the nearest McDonalds, and a full hour and a half to Starbucks," Daichi says almost proudly. Suga's look of disgust is worth it. "There was a pizza place when I was in high school, but it went out of business at some point after I left. There's a new place, apparently, some movie rental and greasy food type thing."

"I would suggest that as a plan for one of the nights—assuming you don't already have plans about being alone out in the woods with me—but, you know, it's really hard to watch movies without electricity," Suga innocently replies.

"You'll have to deal without greasy food and old movies for a few more days, oh no."

"We could still do the greasy food."

"I really don't understand how you keep functioning."

"I subsist off of bad ideas and hot sauce," Suga informs him.

-.-.-

"This is the perfect opportunity," Tadashi confidently declares, pumping his fist. Kei's expression is less than thrilled. "And it's something that should be checked on!"

At least, Kenma had certainly agreed that a pen of a dozen jiangshi shouldn't be left alone. He didn't have time to check on it himself, citing something about a new apartment hunt, and Tadashi was more than happy to volunteer himself and Kei.

"I can't believe you want to spend your winter break chasing down vampiric corpses and playing guinea pig with a demonic witch," Kei deadpans.

"Walk through walls," Tadashi repeats with emphasis. "It may not be new to you, but I can walk through walls, Tsukki."

"The fence had been warded. I bet it won't even let you through."

"Maybe I'm still lucky," he says, and Kei sours further with a pout. Tadashi rolls his eyes and elbows him, friendly, but he's putting up a strong front on this. He can't let himself get bogged down by the luck thing again, especially when it's barely within Kei's control. He has to act like it doesn't bother him.

Tadashi recites the long string of runes, writing in the air with his right hand, and sticks his left hand through the brick apartment building next to them. He beams at Kei, then slips through the wall, leaving Kei to sulk in behind him. The foyer is blessedly empty. Tadashi's laugh echoes off of the high ceiling as he ducks through the next wall, back out into the alley.

It feels a little like breaking through water, and Tadashi wonders if Kei feels nothing at all. Kenma had explained that he could get rid of the sensation altogether, but it would be a massive confusion to his brain plus a severe tax on his magic. This is the safer option.

It's easier for him to have the spell active for short bursts, and he runs through wall after fence after dumpster, grinning behind him at Kei, who chooses to primly sidestep half his obstacles.

Tadashi sticks his tongue out at him over his shoulder. The spell runs out half a second later, and he winds up walking straight into a pole.

Kei bursts into laughter, the traitor.

"Maybe your luck has run out?" he asks, smirking, looming over Tadashi (who fell on his ass with an ungrateful squawk; the only mercy in the situation is that he missed his face).

"You're supposed to look out for me," Tadashi grumbles.

Kei shrugs, but extends his hand to help him up. Tadashi gets back to his feet, wipes the slush as best he can off his butt, recasts the spell with a speed that's dizzying, and yanks him the two steps through the nearest wall. They end up in the freezer of a restaurant, dark and cramped and cold, and Tadashi can hardly contain his snickers. "One of these times, someone's going to get stuck in a wall," Kei points out.

"Like you've already done?"

"Shut up, Yamaguchi."

Because he can't see it coming, Tadashi rocks up onto the tips of his toes to press a kiss to Kei's cheek. He misjudges and ends up pecking the side of his mouth, but the deed is done, so he darts off through the next wall over before Kei can say anything.

Tadashi knows he's about out of magic. They're almost at the cemetery, anyway, but he should save his last go for trying the fence, because that had been one of the original goals, beyond simply testing it. He has a folded list in his pocket for other things he needs to check about the place, if he can. (He isn't exactly sure how he can test if the fence is pure iron or not, but he's down for trying.)

Kei grabs his hand halfway through a wall, and he falters for a heartbeat—a terrifying moment where his magic hiccups and he thinks shit, we're going to fucking get cut in half—but he pulls Tadashi backwards, safely through. Tadashi presses his free hand to his chest to check that his heart's still beating after that scare.

"Don't you think you're being a little too reckless with that spell? You're not a witch like Kenma is," Kei tells him like he's not already aware of this fact.

"I know what magical exhaustion feels like," Tadashi replies, and tugs Kei forward with him through the wall, out in front of the cemetery. "And Kenma wanted stress-testing—"

Kei freezes beside him. Tadashi notices, half a moment too late, that there are people there. People he just walked through a wall in front of. Fuck.

"Shit," Kei hisses, and yanks him backwards again, towards the building they'd just come through. Tadashi's magic is out for this spell, so he needs to recast it; he bumps harmlessly against the brick and wonders why Kei is trying to repeat the magic trick in front of bystanders when he recognizes the bystanders.

The matagot points down at them at the same time Tadashi realizes who he is. "The lucky ghost!"

"Shit!" Tadashi writes runes as fast as he can, terrified of tipping anyone off to what he's doing, but it's not fast enough.

He hears the metallic thunk and crumbling of brick and concrete before he realizes that there is a large hole in both the cemetery fence and the wall about two inches from his elbow. The wards on the jiangshi pen begin to fail: a figure inside the cemetery flickers into view. The witch Ushijima, holding a dead jiangshi in one hand, livid and pulling a blood sword from the jiangshi's corpse.

Repeating "holy shit" doesn't help with magical casting, Tadashi finds, but panic spurs him into new speeds. He hears one of them shout something as he flees back through the broken wall, to find Kei on the other side, already fumbling with his phone.

The matagot pops in next to them with a victorious, "Gotcha! You don't get to run away twice, blondie!"

Kei catches him in the side of the head with a terrified, clawed haymaker. Tadashi hadn't even noticed the demonic shift this time, but they can't focus on that right now, can they? As the fox spirit reels back, swearing and clutching his bleeding face, Kei sprints for the next wall, trusting Tadashi to follow.

He re-casts the spell, and this time, he knows it's his last. Tadashi blinks back the dizziness and runs after Kei; as he phases through the wall, he sees Ushijima climb in through the hole he'd made.

Kei snags his arm in the next building and pulls him off of a straight-line sprint away from them. Tadashi can hear the hollow sound of the matagot reappearing behind them, but he'd judged wrong, and he's not sure that they're immediately followed as they run into the apartment building next door.

Tadashi hardly pays attention to the confused old man with his basket full of laundry. Kei once again grabs him and directs him in another direction; this time, Tadashi doesn't let go of his hand, even if his nails hurt where they dig in. They run up the stairs to the next level, go through another wall, run through someone's home, and come out in the empty dining room of the restaurant from earlier.

Luck's still on our side, Tadashi realizes. It's early enough in the day that it's closed, probably, but a quick check out of the corner of his eye doesn't reveal any luck coming from Kei, at least not that he can see. Are we running off of mine or his?

They run through the next wall, and almost end up jumping out into an alley. There's a van parked almost directly beneath them, however, so with a leap, they bounce over and make it into the second floor of an office building, though Kei has to help him up before he gets stuck in the floor.

"Do you think we lost them?" Tadashi pants, hands on his knees. He can feel the spell starting to fizzle out, so they better have fucking lost them.

"I don't see how they could have followed us… but we have to get back to Kenma and Kuroo as fast as we can." Only then does the blond look down in distaste at his blackened hands. It's only spread as far as his wrist, but it is both of them now, and Tadashi doesn't know if that's better or worse.

"M-Maybe that's lucky because you're better in a fight with them…?" Tadashi asks lowly. Kei turns his glare on him, and he doesn't prompt for anything else on the subject. It can be dealt with later when they don't have omnicidal apocalyptic madmen on their trail.

"Call Kenma, I can't use this with these things," Kei grumbles and hands the phone over. Tadashi dials while they walk through the empty office, and they end up in a middle room with glass walls but blinds they can close. At least they won't be out in the open should anyone stop in this building.

Tadashi almost cries when it clicks over to voicemail.

"Ah—Kenma! It's Yamaguchi, we kind of have a situation here, and we really really need your help. We sort of f-found Ushijima? At the place with all of the little jiangshi? We might've lost him but I-I don't know. We really need your help! I'm also out of—"

The door to the office slams open, but there's no one there.

Tadashi jumps and fumbles the phone anyway. There's the barest shimmer to the air, like magic, but no witch or matagot storming in to finish them off.

Kei is, very abruptly, knocked to the ground and pinned with an unseen force. "Tsukki?!" Tadashi starts forward, but something that is definitely an invisible kick hits his stomach and he collapses against the desk with a choked wheeze.

"Jeez, you're just a couple of kids," someone says.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" Kei snarls, trying to break free. Tadashi thinks he sees something on top of him through the tears in his eyes, the barest suggestion of a person shape, but there's horns and the legs are wrong and—

And he remembers Yuu's words about the invisible, antlered guy who attacked him and Asahi.

It isn't exactly helpful right now, but he thinks it's important to know for future reference, that Team Bad Guy has a fucking invisible person on their side. Hopefully when Kenma finds them. How will he find us? Tadashi thinks wildly; he's the only one with finding magic. He doesn't even know how this guy tracked them down.

But he hasn't called over Ushijima or the matagot yet, so that's something.

Maybe he can't contact them. Which means he has time.

Three things happen at once: Kei sinks through the floor where his assailant can't follow, Tadashi sets him on fire with a will-o-wisp, and the cat spirit who taught him the magic appears with a pop over them.

The invisible person yelps and pats down the fire that's probably somewhere near his hip, and Morisuke looks down at the scene with growing confusion. "What the hell are you doing? Who's that?"

"Ushijima and fox guy and this guy and we're in trouble!" Tadashi blurts out.

Morisuke finishes setting the guy on fire, grabs Tadashi's hand, and yanks him out the open office door. "Where's Kei?" he asks. Only after Tadashi starts running on his own power does he shift into a cat to land on his shoulder.

"Downstairs, I-I think—" They catch up with him when he throws open the door to the stairwell. He doesn't look surprised at Morisuke's presence, but when he starts leading them downstairs, Tadashi hears the jingling of his collar.

Good news: they make it outside in one piece and the invisible man does not catch them. Bad news: the three of them run headfirst into Ushijima.

"Where's Shirabu," he demands with narrowed eyes.

Tadashi doesn't want to tell him that his friend is upstairs, burning. He doesn't want to deal with him at all, considering he doesn't have the vorpal sword, he has two potential spell ingredients with him right now, and there's no handy archangel nearby to distract him.

"There's a subway beneath us," Morisuke whispers in his ear.

Tadashi doesn't understand until Kei pulls him flat against the sidewalk when the bakeneko leaps at Ushijima. "Wait, Mori—!"

He disappears the moment he makes contact with the witch. "You need to sink through! This is parallel, so you should do it!" Kei urges, already sinking through the ground, trying in vain to tug Tadashi with him.

"I don't have any more magic for it!"

"Just once more!"

"Fine, but you better catch me!"

He isn't sure Kei actually understands him, but he writes the spell against the cold, wet sidewalk. By the time he goes through several layers of pipes, wiring, concrete, and who knew what else, the magic has taken its toll on him, and he drops into Kei's arms like a sack of potatoes. Tadashi passes out just as Morisuke reappears beside them.

-.-.-

Yuu jumps when there's a bang on the door. It's not exactly a knock—he's heard enough cases of bodies hitting doors to recognize the sound. It's a messy, unprofessional scramble as he flops over the back of the couch to reach Ryuunosuke's crossbow, leaning against the wall where he'd left it.

There's a later, weaker, actual knock on the door before he makes it over there. He loads the crossbow, swipes a hand through his hair to make sure it's not falling directly in his eyes, and wonders why the room is swaying this much when he walks over to unlock the door.

It takes him three tries to undo the latch. Maybe he's drunker than he'd thought.

Tsukishima nearly falls into the room, and only catches himself from falling onto the crossbow pointed at him at the last moment. Yuu lowers it when he sees Tadashi, out cold, carried piggyback. "The hell you two doing here? How do you know where I live?"

"Kiyoko keeps records." His answer comes in the form of a tan cat with a too-long tail, and Yuu squints down at it, until he realizes that it's the bakeneko. "You were closest, and this is kind of an emergency," he adds and floats up to eye-level.

Heinrich chooses that moment to come barrelling out of the bedroom, barking up a storm. Yuu isn't sure if it's at the intruders or the cat. Some guard dog, he thinks fondly, and catches him by the collar before he can throw all his weight at either of them. (Susie, in comparison, hardly looked up from her spot on the couch. Where she shouldn't be.) "Thanks for the heads-up, then. Not like I was doin' anything."

"Wh-What is that beast?!" Yaku asks, halfway down the hall, fur standing completely on end.

"His name is Heinrich and he's my new friend and at least he warns a guy before droppin' in. What's this emergency?"

"Ushijima," Tsukishima says wearily.

Well, that's one way to sober someone up. Yuu scrubs his hand through his hair again with a groan. "So, what, he's here? On the way here? Tell me what the fuck is going on."

Tsukishima edges past him and doesn't ask permission before dropping Tadashi on the couch. He eyes the empty beer cans on the table with obvious judgment, and Yuu momentarily considers pointing the crossbow at him again.

"Don't be an asshole," Yuu warns.

"Call off the dog," Yaku calls from down the hall.

"Heinrich, get back in here."

The dog completely ignores him. They're still working on the whole basic training deal.

"Ushijima and his two allies ran into them, and we fled to the nearest safe point. I'm going to go let Kenma and Kiyoko know what's going on. Maybe we can stop them this time, somehow," Yaku says, backing up further from the dog the entire while. By the time he finishes, he's pressed up against the door at the far end of the hallway, then disappears with a snap of magic.

Yuu sighs as Heinrich finally trots back inside, entire rump wiggling. "At least close the door," he sighs, and of course the dog doesn't. He misses Saeko's perfectly-trained girls. Yuu throws the crossbow at the door, slamming it shut, and Susie huffs at him from her spot beside Tadashi.

Tsukishima looks severely uncomfortable. He won't look at Yuu, but won't look at Tadashi either, and drums his claws on his pant legs while he looks around the admittedly messy apartment. (Yuu is pretty damn sure he has an excuse for it.)

"What d'you think are the chances of Ushijima storming this place in the next ten minutes?" Yuu asks and flops down unceremoniously onto Tsukishima and Tadashi's laps. He rests his head on Susie, who gives his hair a lick before settling back in.

"Yamaguchi is the only one with tracking magic."

"Not only, but yeah, I guess if he didn't already follow you guys here…" Does Yuu really want to talk about the bastard witch who scared Asahi into that decision? No, no he doesn't. But he doesn't really know what else to say here if there's still a chance of danger.

At least this conversation doesn't prompt the universe to shit Ushijima out on his doorstep.

"Okay, so let's operate under the assumption that he's not about to barge in here an' kill us. What are we gonna do about him, then?" Yuu asks, and Tsukishima's expression impossibly sours further.

"Do about him?" he asks in little more than a feral hiss. (Yuu isn't certain if it's cat-like or snake-like.)

"Yama does have tracking magic, and he's probably still nearby. Ish. If Yaku just went to get Kenma, then—what? If we're going to fight him then I need to call Ryuu, he has most of my guns—"

"We're not fighting him!" Tsukishima coldly interrupts. His claws rip through his jeans. He only relaxes when Susie noses at him, calm as ever, but even then he grimaces as he pets her. "I don't know what Yamaguchi thought Kenma could do, but there's no hope of fighting him. And what if he uses Kuroo for part of his spell? What if he drags Yaku into this? He has magic, and strength, and the fucking fox on his side—he could kill anyone!"

Yuu's mouth acts before his brain does. "Never woulda thought I'd see another ghost afraid of dying."

He's not entirely sure who he hurt more with that, himself or Tsukishima.

It takes a long, long moment before Tsukishima grits out, "I'm not going to be there, and I'm keeping Yamaguchi away, too. He's exhausted and we're not fighters."

"Isn't he being trained by Suga?"

"Shut up."

Yuu follows his command, but more because he can't think of how to take that back without making things worse. He begins cleaning up the cans littered around the couch, finishing the last swallows of a couple of them, and Tsukishima at least does not comment. Yuu is simultaneously too drunk and not fucking drunk enough for this.

He's—they're—lucky that Ushijima didn't show up on their doorstep, but he is still a realer and closer threat than Yuu prefers. And even if Tsukishima wants to sit it out, Yuu isn't certain he's comfortable letting the witch get away. Again.

It isn't just revenge, he tells himself, we have to save the world and shit too.

But if he gets his hands on the assholes who hurt and scared Asahi, then who knows what would happen to them.

Susie slithers off of the couch and comes over to nose at his leg. Yuu is powerless against her big brown eyes, and with a sigh, he drops down to the floor to pet her. Excited, Heinrich jumps over to join them, and Tsukishima lets out a nearly-silent sigh at finally being left alone. He starts again when there's a loud clunk and then the orange plastic ball rolls across the floor.

Heinrich gives a happy bark and begins to chase it, and Tsukishima curls his lip when he demands, "Is that a rat?"

"It's a gerbil!" Yuu replies defensively, and scoops up the ball before Heinrich can get too rough. As far as he can tell, they both enjoy it, but he's still getting used to the pet thing and they're all still getting used to each other. "His name is Raijin, and Susie is the other one."

"How many pets do you have?"

"Just the three." Yuu clicks open the ball and pulls Raijin out, letting Heinrich sniff at him before setting the gerbil in his hair. (Raijin doesn't like to nest there as much if it's not gelled up, Yuu has noticed. But he still sits tight if Yuu doesn't walk around too much.)

Tsukishima stares at him like he's grown another head.

"I got lonely, okay?!" Yuu replies, more defensive, and he can't keep the snap from his tone. He scowls and pets Heinrich to calm himself down, since as bitchy as he is, Tsukishima doesn't actually deserve Drunk Grieving Nishinoya Yuu Ire. He's pretty sure no one deserves that, not even himself. "An' I like dogs. Don't you?"

"I… suppose," Tsukishima replies awkwardly. It's probably as much of an olive branch as there will be.

They're mercifully interrupted by a sleepy little groan from Tadashi. Both of them snap to attention—Raijin scrabbles for purchase in Yuu's hair—and Tadashi rubs at his head as his eyes flutter. "Tsu… ki?"

"I'm here," Tsukishima responds with what Yuu thinks is a suspicious amount of tenderness.

"Where's—?" He sits up, too fast, and clutches his head with another groan a moment later. Susie jumps back up onto the couch to snuffle at him, and Tadashi first seems surprised, then absolutely delighted at the addition of a fluffy dog to his life problems. (Yuu understands.)

"Hey, Yama, glad to see you awake again," he says, and Tadashi blinks owlishly at him over the English Shepherd. "Casper said you two were runnin' from Ushijima?"

"What did you just—"

"Yes!" Tadashi accidentally interrupts, and whatever Suspicious Tenderness had been in Tsukishima's expression is now gone. "We ran into him, and he was killing jiangshi for some reason, and then we ran from him, and—and we got away, right? Where's Morisuke?"

"He dumped you here and went to get Kenma. We're safe here," Yuu firmly tells him.

Tadashi starts to nod, then his eyes find the gerbil half-hidden in Yuu's hair. The movement dies as he stares.

"Here, this is Raijin," he offers, pulling the gerbil away from his hair and handing him over. Raijin immediately scuttles up the kid's arm to make a grab at his hair, too, and Susie looks affronted at the lack of attention, and so begins to try to climb onto Tadashi's lap with a low whine.

He ends up flat on his back on the couch, two animals very happily on top of him.

Yaku pops back into the scene, nearly adding to the count. Yuu grabs Heinrich before he can leap at the cat again. "Kenma won't fight him," he says without preamble, and only then does Yuu recognize the folded ears and guilty expression. "And he won't let Kuroo escort you back, though I agree that that's a terrible idea."

"I can take 'em back," Yuu volunteers. The dogs needed a walk, anyway. Maybe some fresh air would do him good, too.

Yaku gives an appreciative nod and shrinks further from the excited dog. "Kenma advises that Kei and I lay low for the time being, and I agree with him there, too."

"What does laying low entail?" Tadashi asks, side-eying Tsukishima.

"Can he stay with Sugawara for the night? I'd offer my place, but I'm staying with someone else tonight."

Yuu has never seen a cat look embarrassed before, but he's not sure what else to call it. Tadashi rubs the back of his neck, but it's Yuu who says, "Suga's on vacation. He's out of town."

"We'd be fine at home. Kenma and Kuroo are still there. We could take Ushijima," Tadashi adds. "…Probably."

"It's not about taking him, it's about keeping everyone safe and minimizing the chance that he'll end up with the ingredients he needs."

"Well, do we even know what Tsukishima is yet?" Yuu points out. Yaku pauses a long moment before shaking his head. "Then maybe your hoard of teenagers will be lucky enough to avoid that."

"I don't think Kenma—"

"Honestly, if Ushijima's nearby, I think I'm gonna crash at Ryuu's place, anyway. They're welcome there with me."

"I'd really rather just go home, if that's okay," Tadashi mumbles tiredly.

Yuu understands that, too. He stands up, stretches, and holds out his hand for Raijin again. "Time for a walk," he announces, and both dogs perk up. "I can handle an escort mission to get your kids home. Tell Kiyoko what Ushijima was up to, and then you stay out of his clutches, too, okay?"

Yaku seems surprised by his concern, though Yuu doesn't know why; he doesn't want anyone to end up as fodder for an apocalypse plot, much less friendly cats who work at Kiyoko's shop. Yuu musters up a grin, somehow, when the bakeneko vanishes.

Tadashi's grin is far brighter, at odds with his wobbly steps, when Yuu lets him hold Susie's leash. The sight manages to ease the weight on his heart.

-.-.-

Daichi doesn't seem surprised in the least that Suga is popular with the kids. Suga isn't, either—he's always liked kids, although he's never had the crowd of younger cousins that Daichi seems used to. This is now second generation, his cousins' kids, but they're cute. Suga can't remember the names of all of the relatives he's been introduced to at the Sawamura Family Dinner, but the kids are easy.

Most of the evening, he's cornered by the twins, who Suga thinks belongs to Haruna's brother. (He thinks she has a brother.) They're old enough to be in grade school, but young enough to be plenty loud and bossy. There is also the toddler son of the infamous French Model cousin-in-law (who is male and gay and somehow Daichi didn't think to prepare Suga's heart for that; all the panicked wine gulping in the world couldn't save him from that), and a couple of teenagers who seem content to let Suga play babysitter, and a shy preteen who doesn't seem to fit in with them or the younger ones vying for Suga's attention, and a pair of middle school girls who are content to hog the television.

It's a lot. But the twins are the most demanding about receiving Suga's attention.

"Do you play Pokémon?" the little girl, Ume, demands with a tug on Suga's cast.

"How did you break your arm?" her brother, Takeshi, demands with just as much insistence despite the lack of physical yanking.

"Why doesn't Matty cry when you hold him? He cries when I hold him."

"Is your hair supposed to be that color?"

Suga thinks the last question in particular is quite unfair, considering their mother's and Ume's hair is almost as light as his is. "How about," he starts, holding the toddler who is beginning to fuss despite Suga's best attempts, "you show me how to play Pokémon?"

"Okay!" she exclaims and is off like a shot. Suga takes the slight reprieve to rock the child on his hip. He has no idea where (or who) anyone's parents are, nor where Daichi went, and he knows Kaya is in the kitchen but he's already been forbidden from 'helping' since his first and only attempt earlier almost set a dish towel on fire. He hadn't even been drinking yet at that point.

Daichi had to be escorted out since he wouldn't stop laughing. Ass.

The only silver lining is that Kaya hadn't been mad, since he'd already bribed her with the nice bottle of wine that she had been more than kind enough to share with him in return (in spite of her son's disapproving looks).

Suga squeezes in on the arm of the couch, next to an aunt, he thinks. She spares him a sympathetic look but doesn't do anything to take either child clinging to him.

Soon, Ume is back, clutching a 3DS like it's her weapon against the huge amounts of family in the house, and without further warning, she crawls onto Suga's lap. He hastily shoves the toddler at the aunt, but he can't balance fast enough, and they both end up sprawled over several relatives' laps.

"How's it going?" And there's Daichi.

Suga oofs when Takeshi climbs up onto the pile, as well, with a too-happy laugh. "Just fine. Not like I had healing ribs or anything," Suga gasps out.

"Kids, off!" someone barks with all the authority of a parent and the twins scramble off like they'd been burned. Suga rolls off of the family members that he's already lost his dignity in front of, and at least Daichi helps him back to his feet.

"You need a firmer hand," Daichi advises.

"I have a plenty firm hand, there's just a lot going on," Suga replies as he tucks his shirt back in. Kaya's house isn't small, but neither is it large, and there are a lot of people here, leading to an equal amount of chaos. In the best way possible, it's nothing like Suga's few memories of family get-togethers. He'd soak up this kind of atmosphere like a sponge if he weren't so worried about messing up other people's children.

Daichi looks weirdly smug about the entire ordeal—until Matty is shoved into his arms. Suga can't help but snicker into his cast as Daichi glares over the mop of hair; the toddler presses his face into the crook of Daichi's neck and seems to want to mouth at the collar of his shirt. Suga thinks he can see a sizeable spot of drool already.

"Let's get you a towel before he decides to spit up or something," Suga says with a smile.

Daichi tries exactly once to pass off the child, but Suga won't let him; he leads him into one of the bedrooms and rummages around in a diaper bag until he comes up with a cute little towel patterned with ducks and boats. Matty, thankfully, is more than happy to gnaw on that instead of Daichi's shirt.

"He's cute," Suga comments, coming his fingers through the light hair. "Very handsome. Even without a haircut."

"I told you," sighs Daichi, "his dads want to let him choose his own—"

"He's two, Daichi, even if he is half-French. I'm going to braid this shaggy mess, sit down on the bed." He maneuvers them so Matty is seated between Daichi's legs, and Daichi is between Suga's; Suga hooks his chin over Daichi's shoulder and wraps his arms around his waist.

And they very quickly find out that you can't braid very well with one and a half working hands, or with a glass of wine in your system. Suga also very quickly finds out that Daichi can't braid hair at all.

Suga tries to direct him, and with his good hand he manages to fumble his way through one lumpy braid; on the boy's other side, Daichi manages a far lumpier one, far higher on his head and basically ten kinds of mismatched and hideous. Suga takes a few snapchats to send to Tooru and Kiyoko, even if he hesitates with the latter.

Matty, pleased to have his hair played with, begins to doze, and by the time Suga is done scribbling hearts on the picture, he's flopped against Daichi's thigh, drooling even more.

And that's how Kaya finds them.

"I was wondering where you two ran off to. Should've suspected the bedroom," she says, voice low but eyes sharp. Suga is already used to her pointed remarks, pleasantly buzzed enough even to laugh at them, even if Daichi still flushes wonderfully at them. "Doesn't this make you two want to have one?" she asks and comes over to retrieve the sleeping toddler.

"Mom," Daichi sighs, and Suga hides his grin against the back of his neck.

"You're a cute couple, and I bet you'd have cute kids. At least you got my genes, Daichi, so no matter which of you donates the kid should come out halfway decent," Kaya tells them and Daichi scowls at her.

"There's always adoption," Suga reminds them, and she momentarily wears the exact same starry-eyed expression that Daichi tends to get when he finds out something great about magic. "Sorry, it was a joke. We've only been together for a little while, Kaya, so that will have to be a conversation saved for some time in the far future." He punctuates this with a squeeze of Daichi's middle, and he can feel his boyfriend relax at his words.

"Doesn't mean I don't want grandkids," she replies with a shrug and takes Matty, presumably back to his parents, now that they did the hard work of settling him.

Wait, back to his hot and glamorous parents, after Suga just ugly-braided their darling only child's hair.

"They're going to hate me," Suga whispers in horror against Daichi's neck.

It takes a moment for him to understand, but then his shoulders shake with suppressed laughter, and Suga pinches his side in retaliation. Through his sweater, it doesn't do much. "I don't think anyone's capable of hating you, Suga. My family, especially, is legally forced to like you unless we break up, in which case they're legally forced to dislike you."

"…How about we don't break up," Suga quietly replies. "I like your family." His big, nosy, busy, blunt, and warm family. Suga is still lowkey jealous in a way he won't think about. He'll blame it on the wine.

"Oh, Sugawara!" Kaya ducks back into the bedroom, sans child, and both men startle in an admittedly guilty way. "Before I forget, and before we sit down for supper, did Daichi ever tell you about his first huge and incredibly embarrassing writer crush?"

"Mother."

"I've already dusted off the photo albums, too, for after food. Daichi was such a handsome boy, and he still is thankfully, but he had so much baby fat even through high school, it was the cutest!"

"Scratch that, I love your family," Suga whispers, before kissing his cheek, and following his mother out the door.

Daichi hurries after them, but Kaya tosses him a frightfully dark look over her shoulder. "You can set the table. I'm going to introduce your boyfriend to The Cat Who series."

The twins rejoin them, having found Suga again, as Kaya leads them down to the basement to a surprising number of bookshelves, and even if Daichi's groaning and dirty looks stirred pity in him, Suga is far too pleased to learn all this about him. She grabs a stack of photo albums after pointing out younger Daichi's massive collection of cat-heavy mystery books, and by the time they head upstairs again, dinner is ready and Daichi has claimed two of the seats furthest from his mother for them.

Suga only smiles and apologetically tells him that he's already been invited to the kid's table to eat.

It's been about a decade since he's had a family dinner, and he never had a kid's table. Even if he has to sit with his knees up to his chest and deal with Daichi's eye roll as he joins him, Suga can't help but think that he likes this air of familial warmth and shared happiness. He, very stupidly, could get used to it.

-.-.-

"What are you doing."

Tadashi jumps and Kenma almost stabs him in the neck. "Tsukki! Don't scare us like that!" he squeaks, and, belatedly, covers his neck to prevent injury.

"It's four in the morning." He squints down at them; without his glasses, he looks different, a little less grumpy even despite his frown. Younger, maybe. He already looked every inch of a lanky teenager.

"Kenma's helping me with something," Tadashi begins.

"We're piercing our ears!" Kuro finishes.

Kenma hastens to hide the long needle he'd been using, even if it's still too warm to the touch.

"…At four."

"Kuro woke us with his nightmares," Kenma mumbles, and Kuro gives a squawk of injured offense to that.

"I was already awake," Tadashi offers, oblivious to the way Tsukishima's eyes narrow. "Apparently, witch jewelry is a thing? And, um, well, I-I've kinda always wanted to pierce my ears, it's kind of a cool look, you know?"

"There are lots of metals and stones that have helpful properties," Kenma explains and reluctantly pulls the needle back out. He begins heating it again, carefully balancing a flame over his finger. "I was thinking hematite for him, since it can help focus energies and should help him refine his magic use. It's no substitute for practice and knowing his limits, but… it could help, I guess…"

"Give him something to help him sleep," Tsukishima says flatly.

"Do you want yours done, too?" Tadashi asks, despite the fact that Kenma wouldn't really like to go anywhere near Tsukishima.

The blond ghost(?) gives them a long, unusually exasperated look. Finally, walking over to throw himself onto the couch like a sulking teenager (well, Kenma supposes that's not wrong either by any stretch of the imagination), he tells them, "My ears were pierced before I died. I don't know if I'd have to redo them, but I spend most of my time worrying about remaining corporeal rather than how cool I look."

"If you already had them, then you're way ahead of us in coolness, so you can sit this one out," Kuro tells him, probably wanting to compliment him, but of course Tsukishima only looks more irritated. "I get pyrite ones."

"Fool's gold," Tsukishima grumbles.

"Told you he'd know what it was," Tadashi says, smugly, and Kenma sees the corner of Tsukishima's mouth twitch.

"Wanted to use ruby," Kenma mutters. "Alright, I need you to hold still this time."

Tadashi does, holding his breath, and he only flinches a little when Kenma pushes the needle through his lobe. There's not a lot of blood, thankfully, and even if Kuro hovers over his shoulder with too much curiosity the entire time, Kenma slips the earring in without any issue. Tadashi whines like an injured dog through the entire process of piercing his other ear, and Kenma doesn't want to be the one to do this again if he chooses to get any others in the future.

"Don't take those out for a couple months, and use saline to wash them. You're lucky, so you shouldn't have to worry about infection," Kenma dryly comments and wipes the needle off. He's been putting off piercing Kuro's ears, despite the fact that the demon has been asking, because he's either looking at getting corrosive blood on himself or a confirmation that he's still in-tune with the demonic side of magic. He doesn't want either.

"This seems like a shitty decision to make this time of night," Tsukishima drawls.

"I know what I'm doing," Kenma replies, frowning too, "I did all of my own." And he only got one infected. Tsukishima doesn't need to know that; it had been years ago, and Kenma is pretty sure that it'd only gotten infected because he'd spent a solid week living in a cave to avoid a couple of hunters.

Kuro looks down at Kenma, then cocks his head to the side and asks, "What else can you pierce?"

"I—only my ears are pierced," the flustered witch replies, shying away from his gaze, and he flushes further when he hears Tsukishima bark out a laugh.

"Pierce his dick, I wanna see him cry."

"Dick piercings are hot," Tadashi innocently remarks and that shuts Tsukishima up fast. Not that that spares Kenma's dignity, because now he's thinking about it, too.

"You can pierce those? How?" Kuro asks, cringing for now, and that gives Kenma enough strength to put his hands on Kuro's face to tilt his head so he can better see his ears. His hair isn't as messy as usual, since their sleep got interrupted, and as a result it's in the way. (But it's not long enough to tie back; Kenma had tried, and failed, to both their disappointment.)

"Google it," Tsukishima tells him.

"Don't google that on my phone," Kenma responds. "Hold still."

He really wants ruby to charm to help Kuro stay settled, especially since he's lost his sun stone amulet and he's getting less settled every day. Kenma can see the strain of it on him. Anything to help stabilize, but pyrite will have to do, until they can afford something better. Their two choices of getting ruby studs, jewelry or witch shops, aren't easy to steal from and Kenma is rather tired of the looks Kuro gives him, too.

But they don't even have a home right now, much less money.

Not for the first time, Kenma thinks back to the dragon corpse. It's a lot of money, just sitting there, unless Bokuto had finally lost patience and claimed it himself. Some of it is mine, he tells himself, even if he feels guilty for it.

They need the money. It's not stealing, not from Tadashi, not from Bokuto, and Bokuto shouldn't even be there, anyway.

We can't stay here forever, Kenma thinks. They can't go back to Lev's for long, either, not if they're going to end up pissing Morisuke off further. Kenma won't do that to Lev and he won't subject Kuro to an angry bakeneko.

He ends up disappointed when the smears of coal-black blood don't burn him.

-.-.-

Koutarou squints at the dawn light peeking over the trees. Human realm times are weird, especially coming more or less straight from home, but he hadn't thought it'd be this early. (Initially, he'd assumed it was sunset, until he remembered which way east was.)

At least it's light enough to see. The ground is still mostly covered in snow, too, which helps.

Now where was that cave, he wonders, half annoyed and half desperate. He needs to be back before Keiji realizes where he's gone, and this feels a little too much like stealing for him to be completely comfortable, too. Even if it's not.

He just… needs something to help win Kenma and Kuroo back, that's all.

Even on his own, he knows how that sounds.

I just need to find out what Nakashima's been up to, he adds to himself, and wonders if he really has it in himself to kill him should he have tried betraying them. Koutarou has never killed another tengu before, and he really doesn't want to start now, even if he has to. "Fuck," he grumbles aloud. He doesn't actually want to kill him. Even if he's pissed at him.

At least he finally finds the stupid hills where the stupid cave is.

There's not much snow here, compared to most of the rest of the forest, but he doesn't think it odd. The tengu realm doesn't really have weather, and he's been spoiled by it. It's easier to avoid getting mud everywhere when there's very little dirt, let alone rain or slush or whatever the humans have been complaining about lately. Koutarou alights on the stone itself, stumbling a little on the slick surface, before righting himself and ducking into the cave mouth.

The cave is as he saw it last: damp, missing a stalactite, and with a hunk of dragon corpse in the middle of this area.

Except it's not a full hunk. Koutarou scowls and his claws click as he trots over, mind already going a mile a minute about betrayal and thief and I wanna break his face but I don't want to kill him. It doesn't make sense, either, since Koutarou had been more than generous when it came to striking a deal, and even a songbird tengu should have realized that. Nakashima isn't an asshole, and especially not a dumb one.

He doesn't think anything is off until he spots a few broken flight feathers near the dragon's missing shoulder. He's seen Keiji shedding theirs recently enough to recognize that they're tengu almost immediately.

"Nakashima?!" Koutarou calls, hands cupped around his mouth. He hadn't thought anything bad happened, but now that he thinks so, and he doesn't really know where to start with that prospect, either. What the fuck. Not to mention half a dead dragon missing. It looks chewed on, but picked apart that speaks of some level of choosiness and intellect. Not just random gnomes or even another manticore, he knows that.

"Oh," comes a soft, feminine voice.

Koutarou whirls around and sees a figure silhouetted in the faint light from the distant cave mouth.

"Another tengu," she says, surprised, but not frightened like most people stumbling upon a tengu in the human realm would be.

Flames burst into life over Koutarou's hand, and he squints in the sudden light. A woman, humanoid, but he can smell the weird magic in the air. It's dampened by the corpse and musty smell of the cave, but familiar. Also not human or tengu magic. "Who are you? Do you know where the songbird tengu who was supposed to have this dragon is?" he demands. He has to remind himself that most other species are terrified of the big, bad, scary tengu, and use that to his advantage.

"Oh, um." She looks away, guiltily, and rubs at her stomach like it pains her. Koutarou can't quite see her properly, even with the fire; he thinks she has dark hair and eyes, but something about her form is indistinct. "That was… Were you his friend?"

The past tense sets Koutarou's teeth on edge. "Who are you, and what did you do to Nakashima?!"

The woman glances back toward the cave entrance, and with her body shifted, Koutarou suddenly thinks he can see something behind her, too. "Shit… I can't—but I don't want to hurt you. Shit."

"You have to the count of five to tell me what you've done," Koutarou snaps and bares his teeth at her.

He doesn't even get past two before the woman lunges at him. He sees, too late, that there are wings on her back, and he realizes once his fire snuffs out why she had looked so weird in its light; she gives off her own light, soft, but glowing brighter as she throws herself at him. Koutarou barely raises his arms in time to catch her.

His back hits the dead dragon and she fights with him. He has her wrists in his hands, claws digging into her luminescent skin, and with a flare of more light, her wings extend behind her. He counts six before he realizes that this is, indeed, an archangel, and she is probably about to ruin his day.

Shit is certainly right.

She flaps her wings, and the strength of it is enough to pull them both backward, off of the dragon. Using her momentum, she flings Koutarou away, and he can't keep hold on her. His back hits the rock floor this time at a painful angle, and he's barely on his feet again before she pounces.

She's too fast, need to get her away! Every instinct he has screams at him to put distance between himself and this monster.

Koutarou slices upward with a sharp gust of wind, and he's splattered with white blood.

They reel away from each other, growling against the pain, but she rebalances first. (Koutarou had never thought angel blood would sting that fucking bad. No wonder Futakuchi had been so careful with it.) Her fingers look more like claws now, dripping colorless fire at the tips, and Koutarou ducks away from her first blow only to get caught by her other hand. She digs her nails into his bicep, but he doesn't actually realize her strength until she breaks his arm with a single twist of her wrist.

Koutarou screams and digs his claws into her shoulder, her neck, anywhere he can reach, but it's like she hardly notices.

Tengu aren't use to close-quarters combat, and there aren't many beings out there who are stronger than them to this degree; he's beginning to panic, beginning to flail ineffectually, beginning to become little more than a beast—and Koutarou knows he's done for if he can't keep a cool head.

She bears down on him until he's flat against the floor, but aside from twisting his broken arm to make sure he doesn't escape, she doesn't aim for anything else. "I don't want to kill you, but if you keep fighting—"

Koutarou doesn't want to hear this considering she broke his fucking wing. The floor against his back gives him enough leverage to bring his legs up, and there's few things more satisfying than getting his talons into someone who's hurt him. He digs his claws into her wings, and rips her off of him even if it feels like she takes a good chunk of his own flesh with her. Worth it.

As much as he'd like to turn the tables, Koutarou is still rational enough to realize that he can't fight a goddamned archangel on his own. Koutarou may be an amazing warrior, but he's not stupid, nor is he suicidal. Fighting within the confines of the cave is another dumb idea, but he's not sure he can race her to the mouth—and it's not like he can fly once outside, or that it would make any difference when she has three times as many wings as him.

But he has to make it outside. He needs the room to put between them.

When the archangel whirls on him again, irate and glowing once more, Koutarou only then sees his opening: with the strongest and sharpest wind blade he can make, he aims up at the ceiling. She doesn't laugh that he misses her, or even stop to gloat. She advances with cold purpose.

Until the stalactite he cleaves from the ceiling crashes down onto her.

She shrieks and he scrambles away from the splatter of blood. He doesn't think that will kill an archangel, but it looks like it's pinned her for the moment, and Koutarou turns and runs before she can test it for him.

So he can't fly, and Keiji doesn't know he's here, nor does his family. He doesn't really know anyone in the human realm—obvious, painful ones aside—and he doesn't have a way to contact them even if he did. Most of his friends are denizens of the goblin markets if they're not tengu. Koutarou may very well be on his own here, and that sends a new thrill of panic up his spine.

The weak morning sun is exactly as he left it, and there's nothing new on the hill or in the forest or anywhere to help. Koutarou spins around, wondering if he should scale the rocky face to find another cave, or if he should make a break for the forest, or maybe he should stand his ground?

Fucking wing, he curses. He could fly a little on it, he's done it before, but it's the worst break he's ever had. There's blood running down his skin and feathers from her claws, and his own fingers are slowly going numb.

Well, fuck. Fuck all of this. Did he piss off a luck spirit in addition to apparently everyone else? Keiji thinks he's useless when he's upset like this over Kenma and Kuroo, and maybe he is, but shit, at least he was trying today. Koutarou almost felt good about doing something, for two seconds, but of course he had to fuck up this, too. He didn't even find out what happened to Nakashima, outside of 'archangel'. (To be fair, that is a pretty significant occurrence.)

He smells her blood before he hears her. Koutarou grits his teeth and turns to face her; by now, the angel is more light and haze than anything truly settled, and he can't even tell where she's bleeding aside from the footsteps she leaves behind. "You should have let me catch you," she rasps, voice thrumming too deep. Too deep to be a growl but something that reverberates in his chest and makes goosebumps break out on his skin. "I didn't want to kill—I-I didn't…"

"Then don't!"

"No one can—he's a tengu friend! He'll find out," she chokes before flinging herself at him once more. This time, there's no rock behind him to catch them, and they end up tumbling over the edge into open air.

She may be stronger, but she doesn't seem to know how to use her wings as reflexively as he does. Koutarou manages to land on top of her in the damp, dead meadow below, even if the impact knocks the wind out of him. The archangel doesn't seem to suffer from the same issue and shoves him off without missing a beat.

She goes for his broken wing again, digging into the torn flesh, and he can't help but cry out. His body does not begin to panic until she begins to pull, however.

"You would've ruined everything," the archangel hisses, dripping flames and smoke onto him from her mouth, glow so bright it nearly hurts through his screwed-shut eyes. Koutarou claws at her with his free arm, but she ignores him, ignores the wounds he leaves and the furrows his claws create. She shrugs off the wind blade and push spell and tells him in a wrecked voice, "I can't let you ruin her plan, or tell him. T-Too many people know! Someone is going to get back to the witch—"

He aims at her neck, and at least she fucking notices when her throat is sliced open and scalding blood pours down over him.

The archangel reels back, clutching at herself, and Koutarou makes a mad dash for freedom on sheer adrenaline. He smears the weird-colored blood off, or around, but at least gets it out of his eyes so he doesn't run face-first into anything worse.

What's worse than an archangel? he thinks, then easily realizes, Leaving Keiji alone.

She collides with his back again and this time he's pinned on his stomach, injured wing trapped beneath him. "I'm sorry!" the archangel roars, sparks showering down like rain. The entire area is lit up like a spotlight. "I'm sorry but I'm not letting you ruin this! She needs me!"

"I won't!" Koutarou is not above begging. He rips at the dead grass in front of him, kicking ineffectually. He screams again when she digs into his back and side, piercing flesh and ripping muscle like it's nothing to her. Like he's nothing to her. I'm not getting killed. I'm not leaving them alone. I'm not going down like this! "I won't tell anyone, I won't come here again, I just—I need to get back—let me go—!"

He gathers his strength and presses his palm flat against the ground. He forces out the strongest push spell he's ever made, and his entire arm stings from the jolt of it; they both go flying, and he nearly ends up in a tree.

He wishes he had when he catches sight of her, already charging at him again, while he's winded and winged and bleeding. Her blood stings where it's gotten into his side, and when he risks a glance downward, he sees that there's far too much showing that absolutely should not be showing.

He turns and sprints from her, ignoring his burning lungs and the weakness seeping into his limbs with every step, and wishes he could release his side long enough to eventry to fly. Koutarou leaps into the air, buoys himself through sheer force of magic, but it doesn't work.

The archangel catches his ankle and her grip feels like the heaviest shackle.

She swings him around, hurls him into a tree, then flings him back down into the half-frozen earth on his injured side. Koutarou blacks out for a moment after the impact; his ears ring and his vision swims and he's suddenly back against a splintered tree rather than in the mud.

He raises his head to glare at her. He can't even see what kind of face she's making with all of the light. The only visible parts are the dark holes of her eyes and the mop of dark hair, the rest of her an inverse silhouette, creating her own halo.

His cut spell catches her across the face, but she still doesn't seem to notice, even if he can see the new whiteness dripping and sizzling the grass below.

She doesn't immediately kill him, but instead forces out in an inhuman, tear-filled voice, "I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to become this kind of monster."

"Then don't kill me," he says, or he wants to say, but it comes out garbled and wet and maybe he's not quite as conscious as he thought. Koutarou kinda thought his life would flash before his eyes at this point. A thrilling, heartfelt montage of Akaashi Keiji's rare smiles and soft touches, interspersed with his mother's gleaming smirk over her fresh kills, and Kuroo Tetsurou's dimples and the way he laughs too loud, and Keiji's sister making him promise to take care of them, and shit he has to take care of Keiji.

Things go fuzzy, and his thoughts grind down to Keiji Keiji Keiji, but when he blinks back into awareness, he sees two things: the archangel, holding him by the shoulder, jaws unhinged—and a figure in the sky behind her.

Kuroo's weight hits her with a sickening crack.

He gives her a look that Koutarou can't decipher—actually, he's having trouble figuring out if this isn't more memories and wishes—but then he hurries to help Koutarou up, throwing his uninjured arm over his shoulders. "Are you okay? Shit, you don't look okay. Uh, just hold on, we'll get you out of here, Bo," Kuroo reassures. He sounds like heaven right now.

Koutarou nods, and regrets it. He lets his head hang and lets his body be dragged for one blissful moment. From this lower, almost upside-down viewpoint, he sees the archangel get back to her feet and reach out toward them, limbs too long, too fast—

Kuroo swears like her presence burns him when she gets close. "Back off!" he spits, awkwardly shoving Koutarou behind himself, and his own arms start bleeding into blackness and sharp points. "Yui, this is my friend. I'm tengu friend—he's with me. Back the fuck off."

Yui's a pretty name, Koutarou supposes. It doesn't sound familiar. "You're the demon," she says like she's surprised. "You're… you're the demon, and demons—why haven't you been banished by Koushi by now?"

"You remember me, right? I'm with Kenma. We helped you and Suga."

"I need to help them both," Yui says in the same wrecked voice as before and spreads her wings to give her enough power to rush them.

A flash of magic to their right, and a tree drops on her with a crunch far more sinister than any sound Kuroo had created.

Kenma floats down, straddling a broom and bundled up in too many layers, black blood gleaming on his upper lip. He won't make eye contact with Koutarou, but he feels himself break into a grin that hurts his cheeks, anyway. "You—"

"I don't care," Kenma cuts him off. "Get on the broom."

"We'll talk about it later," Kuroo murmurs, soothing. Koutarou nearly purrs and lets Kuroo manhandle him in the general direction of the witch and broom.

Behind them, the tree splinters, then crumbles into ash. Kuroo begins to drag Koutarou faster, just about carrying him at this point, and the tengu twists around to try to hit Yui with anything that could slow her down.

She leaps straight over them at Kenma instead.

There's very little sound, compared to the shrieks and screams and crashing of before; the only thing Koutarou can pick up through the buzzing in his ears is the cracking sound of the broom breaking beneath them.

Kuroo drops him and has thrown himself at them both before Koutarou can balance himself. His yell, at least, Koutarou can hear somewhat clearly, even if he's not sure it's a word so much as raw terror. There's a brief clash of black versus white before Yui screeches, and she scrambles away from them, frantically scrubbing at dark blood smeared across her face.

There's enough slush on the ground she hasn't yet evaporated for Koutarou to pull up for water magic. He means to bind her with it, freeze her to a tree if need be, but there isn't enough for that—he binds her arms and half her wings together, leaving her lopsided and thrashing while he limps over to the other two.

Kenma looks shaken, but isn't as bad as Koutarou feared. He still won't meet his eyes, but does manage to get to his feet, and moves to stand beside Koutarou, in front of Kuroo. "She's too powerful to fight like this," the witch murmurs, and Koutarou nods too many times because that's the understatement of the fucking century right there, "but I think I have a plan… Can you cut her?"

"Y-Yeah, I mean, I have so far, but it sucks, so—yeah. Whatever you need."

"We're going to steal her grace," Kenma announces and Kuroo's expression hardens on the back of his head. Koutarou doesn't get it. "Or, well, some of it, probably…"

"Kenma, that's—"

"We can't fly and we can't run from her. Kiyoko wouldn't stop her and anyone else would get slaughtered," Kenma coldly interrupts.

"Is this a bad plan?" Koutarou tentatively asks, and Kuroo nods.

Yui breaks free of the ice encasing her with a growl and another flare of heat. Kuroo yanks Kenma back by his hood, and calls out, "Yui! We'll stand down if you do. We don't want to fight, remember?"

Koutarou shakes his broken arm-wing and hisses, "She killed my friend and attacked me and ate half our dragon and attacked you! She has to be taken in, at least!"

"Dude, Bo, shut up for five seconds. Let's concentrate on us all getting out alive before we start pointing fingers."

"He attacked me!" Yui snaps back, voice a deathly, raspy growl, and Kenma flinches from the sound.

"You killed a tengu!" Koutarou snarls. "You stole from me—I'm so fucking tired of people stealing from me!"

"When did she kill a tengu?" Kuroo asks, and Yui's hazy figure hangs her head, as if in guilt. "We'll take it up with Kiyoko—"

"She's going to hate us for fighting her," Kenma mumbles. "She's not going to ignore us this time."

"She's killed people, hurt us, and we have to make a stand."

"You can't stand right now," Kuroo points out.

"We won't kill her. I don't think we could," Kenma replies, even-toned, eyes still locked onto the archangel. "If she won't let us go, we have to."

"Yui, please." Kuroo turns back to her, pleading, and lets his hands settle back into proper human fingers as he holds out his arms to show he means no harm. "We've kept your secret this far, haven't we? We don't want to fight you, we want to protect our friend. You helped us before."

"She helped Suga before," Kenma mutters under his breath.

While Koutarou seethes, still dripping blood from multiple wounds and leaning against Kuroo, Yui's glow dims until they can see her chewing on her lip. Her skin is ashy, and she's bleeding and hurt, too, even if she doesn't show it. "I… I didn't mean to kill him. This spiraled, but I can't let it get any worse. I can't let you ruin our plans," Yui tearfully tells them and raises her arms again. "I'm sorry."

"I'm going to get behind her," is all the warning Kenma gives before springing forward with a jump-push spell. Koutarou follows, ignoring the twinge his ankle gives at the force of the magic. Yui reaches for him instead of the witch.

She thrusts her arm forward and he feels it go through him, but it leaves her open to the spike of frozen earth he shoves through her stomach. Yui staggers, and Koutarou hangs on her wrist while he rips into her, and only then he realizes how tall she's become. Just like Kuroo, he thinks, and worries about her losing form entirely. At least right now she's solid.

He doesn't think they'll do any better against a puddle. He never thought that would be anything but funny.

Koutarou tries to kick her, talons just barely missing her chest, and she bends to avoid him. Right into Kenma. He's been writing runes in the space between her wings, careful not to touch them, and when she backs into him, he presses his palm between her shoulder blades. Magic sparks in the air between them.

"Not again!" Yui shouts and twists so she knocks him to the ground with her wings. She throws Koutarou down beside him, and he thinks he hears Kuroo shout, but he's drowned out by her desperate, "You won't turn me into something worse!"

They roll out of the way of a burst of angelic fire, Koutarou swearing as his head spins, and she's probably taller even than Kuroo now as she looms over them. Her limbs are too long and the bottommost set of wings are growing, sprouting like new buds from her back.

A black form collides with her, even larger and less distinct, all teeth and claws and sizzling blood. But Yui is still stronger than Kuroo—a demon is no true match for an archangel. They grapple, twisting and writhing to get a better grip on each other, and Kenma pops up behind her again. Koutarou scrambles after him, knocking away a wing that almost clips him in the head. His feathers burn where hers touch his.

"Whatever you're doing—" he begins, urgently, barely heard over the archangel and demon's combined howling.

Kenma disposes of whatever spell made her panic earlier, loses all finesse as he simply grabs an armful of wings. They grow brighter at his touch, and Koutarou doesn't understand until the rest of her body dims and flickers like a guttering candle.

The witch looks up at him pleadingly. Too-dark blood streams from his nose but Koutarou doesn't understand what he's mouthing at him; he just instinctively knows what to do.

Can you cut her?

Fuck yes he can. With delight.

It's a very simple matter for him to pull enough air for a razor-sharp wind spell, he doesn't even feel the drain on his magic; Koutarou slashes downward, severing her wings from her body.

Yui's scream rises up until he can't even hear it, but something stings in his ears, and he and Kenma stumble away. Kenma still clutches her wings, which look to be glowing brighter than ever, whereas the archangel flickers one last time before going out completely.

She sheds feathers—no, pieces of her last set of wings, Koutarou thinks he's going to be sick—and staggers away from them. Her blood is still pure white, the only bright part of her now, and seems to be burning her as it trails down her back.

Yui's scream winds back down into discernible registers, and with one last terrified wail that sounds more animalistic than ever, she disappears in a flash.

Koutarou is only blessed with half a heartbeat of relief. She's gone, he thinks, breaking into a triumphant grin, we fought an archangel and won. We get to go home. "We did it!" he says, not fully aware he's even cheering. "Oh my god, we're—safe?"

It's a question he hopes isn't a question, and he turns to look over his shoulder at Kenma (maybe she'll be back, maybe he knows how to banish her from the area, in fact why did they seem to know her at all that seems like a big detail to not share with anyone), just in time to see the witch's knees buckle. Kenma goes down soundlessly, too-dark blood everywhere, and Kuro leaps out of his shadow barely in time to stop his head from hitting the snow.

"Kenma?" both Koutarou and Kuro say, together, and are met with no answer.

-.-.-

The elder Hinata's head is bowed and his shoulders are tight as Keishin berates him. Loudly. Almost violently (he's already cuffed him upside the head, but nothing else, not in sight of others). Natsu is clinging to one hand, looking illegally overjoyed at being reunited with her brother. It melts Saeko's heart.

It doesn't sway Keishin or Sorano, however. The fact that the kid's other hand is tightly entwined with Tobio's also doesn't endear them, except perhaps to Father Takeda.

Saeko knows their presence isn't helping, either, but Kiyoko wanted to make a point, and what can she say? Tanaka Saeko can rarely say no to Kiyoko, and even more infrequently to cute fluffy tengu chicks. She rubs her hand against the holster under her arm like it's a comfort thing. It wouldn't do much to stop two adult tengu, but it makes her feel better.

Natsu is the only one happy in this situation. At least someone is, Saeko thinks, fondly, and glances up just in time to catch Keishin's irritable glare dart over to her. Saeko bares her teeth in a poor imitation of a grin.

"Do not get me started on your involvement," he says in a flat growl.

"We were hired to do a job," Kiyoko says with all the calmness in the world. "We've done the job, I'd say."

Tobio wisely bites his tongue, even if the Hinata boy's hand tightens on his likely to the point of pain. "I gave back the egg," he mutters, and Keishin rounds on him with fresh fire in his eyes.

Their mother places a hand on his bicep, reining him back. "You shouldn't have run away in the first place."

Ah, a mother's cold disappointment. Saeko shudders at how good the stuffy birds are at that. "I got her egg back!" he replies, head lifted to meet her gaze, even if his shoulders are still up around his ears. "I-I returned that, in one piece, and no one else was even close to getting it back!"

"We're glad to have returned a First egg to its proper owner," Kiyoko pointedly adds.

Keishin makes an effort to unclench his claws. Takeda places a hand on his other arm, and steps forward between them, a movement not lost on anyone in the drafty attic. "We're very glad this was resolved in a manner so peaceful. I'm sure everyone is grateful for it. And now, we have Shouyou back with us, too, don't we?"

Saeko shakes her head in disbelief. Fuckin' Takeda and his tengu hoard, she thinks, amused and jealous and particularly entertained at the soft look Sorano sends him.

"We still—" Tobio starts, like he has a death wish; the glowers Keishin and Sorano turn on him are more than enough to shut him up.

"We still have to help them!" Shouyou finishes for him. He's puffing up now, feathers raising like a cat's fur, but he fearlessly stares down both adults. Kasa, on the shoulder nearest to him of her witch, puffs up in solidarity. "Kageyama is tengu friend, and we—"

"He's what," Keishin hisses.

That went about as well as Saeko thought. She rolls her shoulder in a casual way that also manages to reveal her holster from beneath her leather jacket. Keishin's narrowed eyes are back on her again, but Kiyoko does not speak up this time. Everyone present knows that if an adult tengu declares someone tengu friend, the clan must honor that—or excommunicate the individual.

Considering how their panties were bunched trying to get this little guy back, Saeko's money is on the fact that Tobio just scored a ticket in. She just hopes they didn't guess wrong and assume that he's an adult.

At least he's not all fluff like his sis, she thinks, and glances down at the wide-eyed look Natsu gives her brother.

"…Alright," Sorano says at length. "Alright. Your witch friend is tengu friend." She casts an uneasy look over the two women, but they don't speak up; they're not going to press this issue, even if they might've stood a chance at convincing Shouyou to give them the title. It'd only piss Keishin off more, and it'll be more fruitful in the long run to support what Shouyou wants.

Plus, it's sort of cute, the way they fight like cats and dogs. Saeko thinks it's like a playground crush. With magic and claws.

"Oh, there's also Kenma," Shouyou says, grinning now in his relief, like he hasn't just dropped a bomb on the tense scene.

Takeda reaches forward to keep Keishin in check, both arms around his shoulders, but Sorano only heaves a great sigh. Even Kiyoko's eyes are large behind her glasses. Saeko just wants to laugh. "The pipsqueak witch?" she asks, trying hard to keep her voice even and professional, even if her shoulders are shaking.

"Kenma is tengu friend to the crows?" Kiyoko asks as well.

"That's the little witch with the demon, right?" Sorano says, frowning, cupping her cheek in her hand as she turns away from the look Keishin gives her. "Ahh, yes, he said that, but if you're actually declaring him, too…"

"You met Kenma?!" Shouyou asks, bouncing up on his feet, startling the crow familiar on Tobio's shoulder.

"I helped him return home. He didn't help you return?"

"Uh," he replies, faltering, too late to lie. Saeko and Kiyoko exchange a sideways glance. "I haven't seen him since… In a little while. But he's helped me! I'm declaring them both," he says, back to his fearless firmness, and tries his best to stand tall once more.

"You are never stepping foot in the human realm again without an escort," Keishin says, but this time it's more of a lament; he seems far too exasperated to keep up his blustering anger. Saeko is certain the priest petting his feathers has a lot to do with that.

"Deal, but after I'm done here," Shouyou maintains.

"Done with what?" his mother asks in concern.

"H-He's sworn to help me stop the coming apocalypse," Tobio announces in a quaking voice. Kiyoko's lips thin, just the tiniest amount, as she manages to restrain a proud smile. "He hired me," the witch adds, and Kasa punctuates it with a caw.

"He bought him out from underneath an old god," Saeko kindly tells them, and Shouyou stands even taller, now on the tips of his talons, balancing precariously against Tobio's arm. "An' he's teaching that familiar some magic, too. I heard something about trading away an eventual First egg…?"

Tobio goes scarlet, but bravely continues facing the tengu, who have both gone ashen. "Th-That's right," he stammers out, and Saeko thinks he's now more embarrassed than afraid, which is a great step forward. "He—U-Um, he's already promised me payment, so if he isn't around to secure the services he paid for, then the crow clan could lose out on a large future investment, and you would have a witch with tengu magic who is not affiliated with you, which would be a huge scandal."

He lets out a breath when he's done, and Saeko shoots him an unsubtle thumbs-up. Keishin, looking like he just aged twenty years, gives Kiyoko a particularly baleful expression. "You told him to tell me that," he says without inflection.

"We were hired to bring back your son, and we have. What he did on his own in the human realm until this point was beyond our control," Kiyoko coolly replies.

"Weren't you sticking your noses into the other missing egg, too?"

She shakes her head, but doesn't express any surprise at the confirmation; Saeko frowns, because she is surprised. More surprised he's admitting it to them than anything else, but they must be desperate. Not that she blames them if Ushijima is on the prowl for the egg, too…

"We got one back, and we have Shouyou back," Takeda breaks in, ever-optimistic, and Sorano nods in quick agreement. "This is already good, even if he needs to stay here for a little while longer to help Kageyama with something."

"We're helping stop the apocalypse!" Shouyou reminds them.

"Yes… That," the priest says, awkward, and his smile falters just a little. "How exactly do you two plan on doing that? Last I heard, most of the witch covens are scrambling to do the same, and Kiyoko hasn't foreseen anything specific, has she?"

Another shake of her head. Tobio and Shouyou, however, don't seem deterred in the least. "I know how he's doing it," the witch announces like it's nothing, "and I know what kind of circumstances he needs to actually summon it. We're going to track the ingredients until we find him."

"Kenma can help!" Shouyou adds. "He's already run into him once!"

"We'll also help them," Kiyoko says, and Sorano finally lets out a relieved sigh. "We have a vested interest in stopping Ushijima, you'll recall. We won't let any harm come to the boys."

"And I'll protect Shouyou this time, too!" Natsu declares. Saeko hides her grin even as her poor mother begins gnawing on her lip.

"Natsu, sweetheart, you're not going with them. Shouyou will check in weekly with us and Father Takeda, but you and I are staying home," she says, to the little girl'simmediate distress.

Natsu yanks hard on Shouyou's hand, tugging him down to her level, and his connected hand pulls Tobio down with him, too. "I'm helping him! He got lost and hired a witchlast time you let him go off on his own!"

"I didn't let—"

"Hinata," Keishin growls, and both siblings snap to terrified attention. "Girl, you are staying with your mother. Your flight feathers aren't in and you can't leave tengu space until you're more than a chick. Boy, you will check in with us weekly and update us on what you and the witch are doing. Shimizu, you too. If anything happens to one of our own, there will be hell to pay."

Kiyoko and Saeko both nod this time, because it's not as if they planned for anything different. Just having a tengu on their side is a great relief, both power-wise and for the connections it brings, and Saeko actually believes in the kids. They and Hitoka had managed to cure the curse, and it was Tsukishima and Asahi who got the other egg back—they're all pretty capable.

"Also, Hinata, you are forbidden from ever declaring tengu friend again," Keishin finishes, despite Shouyou's squawk. "You don't need your own harem for fuck's sake."

Saeko finally bursts into laughter.

-.-.-

Lev picks them up.

Waiting for him had been the most harrowing hour of Kuro's life. Kenma had only been awake long enough to vomit a disturbing amount of black blood, and Kuro had slipped into unconsciousness once, too; Bokuto had been beside himself and assumed they were both dying.

Probably somewhat true, worryingly close, especially since Kuro had woken back up wondering why it wasn't raining, and speaking another language.

He thinks it was Turkish. He's not sure why.

It was instinct that made him call Lev rather than Tadashi, but he doesn't feel like it's wrong; Lev had picked up, demanded to know what was wrong, and immediately said he was on the way. Lev, for all his inquisitiveness, is quick to act when it counts. He's dependable. He's good for Kenma. Kuro feels a sad sort of gratitude that they had to call on him at all.

Bokuto falls eerily silent when they pile into the car. His only words are to mumble out Kenma's ignore-me spell when he awkwardly clambers into the front seat; Kuro pulls Kenma into the backseat and they lay down, the witch laying on his stomach, Kuro winding around them both with a form he can't quite force to settle again. He worries about what that means.

Kenma's breathing is shallow and quick; Bokuto doesn't speak, not even to complain about his injuries; Lev glares through the windshield like he's contemplating murder.

Kuro is very tired. He's strangely not afraid, not outside of his usual fear for Kenma's safety and health—this is the closest he's seen Kenma to death, and thus himself to death, and he feels… not much. He thinks he should feel more.

Kuro would normally care more about a rare car ride, or even make remarks about Lev driving, or run his mouth in any general direction to cover up what he's concerned about.

"Everyone's so quiet," Lev says with a poorly suppressed shiver.

Nobody answers.

Kenma slurs something against his neck when they reach the city limits, but aside from that, he's out. Bokuto eventually does lapse into stilted, jittery conversation with Lev (who seems both relieved and confused). Kuro thinks he dozes off as well until he's suddenly aware that they've stopped. Next thing he knows, there's a lot of raised voices and someone is trying to pull Kenma from him.

Kuro lashes out and barely stops his claws a hair's breadth from Alisa's wide mismatched eyes at the same time that she abruptly realizes that the black mass in the backseat is sentient and moving.

"Охуе́ть," Alisa breathes and Lev finally pulls her away. She drops Kenma's arms and he limply flops back into Kuro's embrace. Kuro tries to soothe his buzzing nerves by running his fingers through Kenma's hair. All of the calmness from before has evaporated, replaced by ugly tension. "Лев, что за нахуй?!" Alisa exclaims.

Bokuto slumps down in the front seat, unsubtly avoiding eye contact.

"Help me get them inside?" Lev asks.

"When you asked to borrow my rental, I didn't think—"

"Kuro, let me carry Kenma upstairs," Lev says, to Alisa's growing worry, and he helps maneuver him out into the muggy city air.

Kuro still can't settle, and he doesn't want to be the one to explain himself to Lev's sister when he barely knows a thing about her, and he hopes she can't see his scowl. He slithers around to the other side of the car, opens the door for Bokuto, and asks in a low voice, "You doing okay?" He's mad he didn't check in on him earlier. (He's mad that any of this happened, and now that his shock has been broken, it only increases.)

"Just fine," Bokuto squeaks, still aggressively avoiding looking at Alisa. There's blood soaked all over into the front seat, smeared against the center console and halfway up the dash, but the only discomfort Bokuto actually shows for all of his injuries is when he jostles his broken wing. He takes Kuro's offer of help and limps his way into the apartment after them.

Kuro hears Alisa follow them after a soft Russian curse.

And they hear Yaku's bellow far before they see him. "What the hell have you done?!" Kuro's mood darkens further.

Bokuto isn't incredibly heavy considering his size, but it's laborious to haul him up the stairs one step at a time, and especially since Kuro is having trouble remaining upright and solid. He sets him down on the top step, and Bokuto doesn't complain, although Yaku's face when he sees them is rather a thing of beauty. "Hey," Bokuto says, raising his uninjured hand, and Yaku's ears fold back.

"Is that your cat?" Alisa asks when she comes up the stairs behind them and lays eyes on the suddenly very guilty-looking feline. "You know what? Нет. We will talk about this later, Лёвочка. Right now, your friends are bleeding all over your carpet."

Bokuto looks down at the mess with a surprised start.

"Alisa is right. Put Kenma to bed and put the bird in a shower," Yaku agrees, then casts a particularly judgmental eye over Kuro.

Before he can strongly recommend anything, Kuro folds his arms and gives him a narrow-eyed glare. "I won't bother you, just don't kill Kenma while I'm out."

"Out?" Lev asks in shock.

"I'll be back in a bit," he replies vaguely, wearily. The sudden anger simmering in him is close to boiling over and he doesn't want to feel restless around the others. "Just have to take care of something."

-.-.-

Kiyoko rubs her eyes. They itch, from any combination of exhaustion and stress and the dry smoke of the incense, and she knows she ought to try to go back to sleep. It won't work, but she should try. She wants to. Waking up to deal with tengu had been a special kind of hell, and she'd much rather continue trying to get something close to constituting a normal amount of sleep, but it doesn't look like it'll be happening.

Maybe if she gets up and lights something else rather than the old cedar shit she's been using.

There's a loud ding-dong from downstairs, followed by insistent knocking and the clatter of someone trying the door.

Or there could be an early customer, and she's definitely not getting a nap today. Sunshine, at the foot of the bed, sits up with his ears pricked.

Kiyoko considers ignoring them, just for the thought of more rest, but when the sting of breaking wards hits her, she knows she must get up. She rubs at her eyes again, slides on her glasses, and pulls on her robe when she hears the front door slam open.

"Kiyoko!" comes an angry, male voice.

Great.

Kiyoko can't place who, and like hell she's letting anyone break into her shop, but would it kill the universe to give her a break, for just one morning? Maybe she can mix up a strong sleep draught after this. She grabs the sleep soot she keeps in her nightstand, ensures both animals remain in the bedroom, and tiptoes downstairs.

She mercifully does not find anyone ransacking the place, nor any vindictive men with guns. She does, however, find an unsettled demon winding his way around cupboards and table legs, looking for something with hollow eyes narrowed into angry slits.

It takes Kiyoko a long moment before she realizes that this is, yes, Kuroo Tetsurou. She hasn't seen him like this in months, and worry gnaws on the edges of her fatigue. "Kuroo?" she calls tentatively, and his head snaps up to stare at her. "Are you alright?" she asks, on autopilot a moment too long before the Upset Intruding Demon advances on her.

"You," he spits, towering over her, stretched thin but no less menacing. "Where is Yui?"

"Yui?" Kiyoko repeats dumbly. There a beat of fear—how does he know—followed by suspicion—Kenma would tell him—which is then replaced by new, fresh dread. "What happened to Yui?"

"We've kept your secret, played nice with whatever you have going on with the archangel, but I draw the line when she tries to eat my friends!" Kuroo snaps, and Kiyoko feels the blood drain from her face.

Her mind flashes to Yui, covered in the innards of whatever creature Kiyoko has brought her, chatting while eating with the same gusto as usual, words barely covering up her growling stomach. She knows she's been hungry—she's been trying her best to help with this, but she fears Yui's appetite, and is helpless in the face of it.

She thought she'd been getting better recently as her power balanced out, but Kiyoko apparently had thought wrong.

Is she hiding this from me? is followed closely by What happened with Kuroo? "Is she—is everyone alright? What exactly happened?" Kiyoko asks, calmly, and gestures for him to sit down on the stool beside him. He does not.

"She tried to kill Bokuto!" Kuroo snarls; she feels like she's been doused in ice water. "He and Kenma—okay, they fought back, but I at least tried to talk to her! And you know what she said to me?!"

"I—No."

"She asked why Sugawara hadn't banished me yet. I want to say I trust him. I want to say I trusted you." He pauses, not so much deflating as taking a breath she's not certain he legitimately needs. "I never wanted Kenma to be right about you, Kiyoko. But I need you to tell me, right now, that you're not going to let Yui get away with this. That you haven't been letting her go around eating tengu and killing people!"

"No," Kiyoko says, far too weakly. She clears her throat, meets his eye without fear, and repeats, "No, I have not. I was unaware Yui had approached anyone."

"Approached isn't the right word, princess," Kuroo humorlessly informs her. He shrugs, then gestures down at his form. "Kenma got messed up again. Bokuto isn't much better. Frankly, I don't care right now what kind of plans you two are making that she's so keen on killing to protect—"

Kiyoko finds herself with her heart lodged in her throat. That is what Yui had done? Yui had killed for them? If it wasn't just hunger—Kiyoko would do a lot to preserve their plan and ensure that the apocalypse does not come about, probably do enough to be scary. But for Yui to be going to such lengths without telling her?

Part of her is hurt, but the larger part is afraid. They hadn't agreed to cross that line together. This is her plan.

"—next time we cross paths with her, we're actually going to put her down if it comes to that, okay? So tell her to back off!" Kuroo finishes in a bark.

Kiyoko blinks, twice, up at him. "Put her down?" she echoes, disbelieving. For a moment, she can only scoff at the idea, but then her half-groggy, half-scared mind reminds her that it's Kenma who she stole the angelic grace spell from in the first place; if any one person could do it (discounting those with questionable ancient deity alliances), it would be Kozume Kenma.

She can't allow that. She can't give up Yui again.

"She's not here, is she?" Kuroo asks uneasily.

"No, she's not. Neither of us thought it wise to house an archangel in the city. How exactly did you run into Yui?" Kiyoko asks through gritted teeth.

He squints at her choice of phrasing. "Bo was probably going after that damned dragon."

"What dragon—"

"And so were we, because Kenma is still terrified of getting tied down by anything, and now he's going to be even more scared of you and Yui. Again. So thanks for that!" Kuro exclaims without apparently having heard her at all.

Kiyoko does not bristle, though the accusation does not sit lightly with her. "I have never," she tells him levelly, "wanted either Kenma or you to be afraid of me. I've given you both the space I thought was prudent, even after you stole from me. I don't want to be an enemy. Neither does Yui."

"Bokuto's going to throw a fit, and so is Akaashi when they find out. That's on you to deal with. I don't give a shit so long as Yui doesn't go near any of them ever again. Understand?"

"…Yes, I understand," she coolly replies.

"Do you?" Kuroo presses. Kiyoko narrows her eyes a fraction, and he continues, "I'm serious, Kiyoko. I never want angel shit anywhere near Kenma or myself or the tengu again. We'll do a lot more than clip her wings and put her out next ti—"

He's flat on his back and she's standing over him with white fire dripping from her fists before she registers what she's saying. "What. Did you do. To Yui."

Kuroo scrambles back until he hits a cabinet. Bundles of dried herbs fall, startling him enough to get him to duck down into the shadow and pop up again behind her. Kiyoko whirls around, running exclusively on anger and reflexes, and backhands him across the face.

He's softer than she'd anticipated. Kiyoko does not expect him to go down like a sack of potatoes again, however, and she once again stands over him. This time, he crouches before her, holding his cheek and hissing out curses between his sharp teeth.

She hadn't meant to come to blows—losing her temper is usually not something Kiyoko worries about—but now that she is here, now that the thought of hurt Yui is in her mind, she's not sure how to back away from this. They hurt Yui. They hurt her.

Kiyoko, paralyzed above the bleeding demon, is not sure whether her knee-jerk response was in response to the thought of Yui being in danger or Yui's place in her plan to stop Ushijima being in danger.

Kiyoko will not give herself the benefit of the doubt with something like that. It sickens her.

What makes the situation infinitely worse is when Kuroo looks up at her and she reads fear in his expression. She just gave him a reason to fear her for the first time; she just proved Kenma right.

Kiyoko steps away from him and lets the magic die from her hands. Kuroo scrambles to put space between them again, wary, and she can't raise her face to him again. "Just go," she croaks, and she's not sure if her voice breaks out of oncoming stress tears or revulsion at herself.

He raises back to his normal height, carefully circling her, but does not immediately leave. "I want you to promise me that you'll keep Yui away."

Yui has apparently done so much already without her knowledge. Kuroo, ironically, is placing more faith in Kiyoko's control of the situation than she is. "I'll make sure of it," she tells him. She thinks he nods, but he departs soon after, leaving just the mildest smell of demon in his wake.

Kiyoko collapses against her table. She doesn't know what to tackle first.

Is Yui a threat to others? She had only planned for Yui, not an archangel. Kiyoko's view has been too biased, but she'd never imagined that Yui would actually become something Kiyoko had to put down. It'd been a deep, dark fear, niggling in her heart, that it was a possibility. She hadn't expected to approach it so suddenly.

And what if Yui is becoming a threat? Kiyoko has the technical knowledge to banish her (probably), but certainly not the strength. Yui would be just as much of a threat, if not more, than Ushijima and his lot.

She doesn't know how she could stop that.

Yui is hurt, she got into a fight. She doesn't know how to find her, not if she fled the forest. And what about the tengu? Kiyoko is certainly no friend of them, not after what she's done with Shouyou. Suga, yes, but she can't ask for his help if he doesn't know what it's for. Kiyoko doesn't know how to help except to continue doing her best to hide her existence.

…Even if 'her best' involves half a dozen too many people knowing about her existence. She doubts Ushijima would be able to figure out any specifics, but knowing concretely that they joined forces would be enough of a problem. Most of her plans revolve around him taking specific paths to summon the old god; she can't plan for many sudden moves on his part.

No matter how she looks at this, Kiyoko doesn't know how she can keep doing this alone. She thought she'd been in this with Yui, but how can she truly say that? How can she say that now? They're separated, Kiyoko is keeping her a secret from everyone she cares about, and in the end, Kiyoko is really only using her as a weapon, isn't she? And what if Yui has become some thing that she can't control, reason with, or becomes another danger?

Kiyoko wipes her tears and vows to do better.

-.-.-

Suga's head falls from his shoulders and the damned sword finally burns Daichi's hands.

At the same time the sword falls from his grasp, he jars himself out of his nightmare. He's awake before he hears the clang of the blade or the thump of Suga's severed head. Daichi's chest heaves, and he's uncomfortably aware of the cold sweat he's covered in; he scrubs a hand over his face and pushes back sweat-slick hair. Suga, big surprise, has stolen most of the covers, and Daichi feels cool in the dark cabin.

He reaches over a hand just to make sure the Suga lump is still next to him. Yes, he is, and he's breathing. His hair is stark against the patterned fabric of the pillow, but Daichi can't help but tug on the blankets until he can see that yes, Suga's head is still attached to his shoulders.

It's stupid.

His waking mind chases away the dredges of the terror, and he knows that, too. But he can't help the self-depreciation.

Suga makes a small sleepy sound and tries to nestle, fruitlessly, back into his blankets. Daichi guiltily tucks him back in and slides up so he's curled around him again; Suga is sleep-warm but his feet are still icicles and Daichi smiles against his hair. Suga is here, Suga's normal. Or as normal as he can be. Daichi's getting used to it, in increments, slowly. Suga is alive.

"Mmmsh," Suga murmurs, and with a long groan, he turns over so he's facing Daichi. His eyes are shut, face still lax with sleep, and Daichi doubts he's any true measure of conscious.

"Go back to sleep," Daichi whispers and tucks a lock of his starlight hair behind his ear. Suga snuggles in closer and tries to duck his head beneath Daichi's chin. He ends up headbutting him—not that it wakes him.

Daichi rubs his jaw, wincing, and wonders how he could ever think anything was enough to take out his stubborn, hard-headed boyfriend. (Ignoring the fact that Daichi has had literal nightmares of the memory of stepping over Suga's decapitated corpse.)

"Nigh'-mare?" Suga asks against his neck.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"Heart's pounding," he whispers. He cuddles up again—too late Daichi recognizes his octopus moves, twining and winding all manner of limbs everywhere until it'll probably take another three hours for Daichi to have his own side of the bed again—and Daichi can feel the even, slow tempo of Suga's own heartbeat against his chest. It's soothing. "You 'kay?"

"I'm fine." It's not a lie; Suga's presence is all the reassurance Daichi needs. He may not be prepared for magical bullshit, but he can deal with it by reminding himself of the facts. And Fact #1 is that Suga Won't Die.

"Mmkay," Suga says around a wide yawn. He kisses Daichi's neck, clumsily, and tightens his hold on Daichi. "'m still here. Go back to sleep, 'night. Love you."

Daichi gets as far as an automatic "Lo—" before he realizes what Suga had actually just said. (And what he'd been about to respond with.) "…Suga?"

Suga, of course, is out like a light, despite Daichi's murmurs and gentle shaking. Daichi can only grin helplessly against Suga's hair; what else can he do? One day, he's not going to let Suga get away with these sleepy exclamations. As much as he loves them. He'll have to tease him about it in the morning, just to see what kind of face he makes, especially since he's not privy to the pleased way Daichi thinks his own cheeks are pink right now.

"Love you too, you narcoleptic nerd," Daichi says and kisses the crown of his head. When he drifts off again, it's blessedly dreamless, and entirely too hot with Suga wrapped tight around him.

-.-.-

"I'm so sorry," Kiyoko says for probably about the eighth time. Hitoka slides over another cup of tea, and Kiyoko begins gulping it down despite the scalding temperature. "I didn't mean to intrude—"

"It's not intruding," Hitoka firmly replies. She looks from her own mug to where Kiyoko's fingers are wrapped around hers. "I said you were always welcome, and you are. Even if it's a dingy little dorm room."

"Your room's nice," Kiyoko mumbles. She downs about half of her tea before Hitoka reaches over and pries her hands off of the chick mug and intertwines their fingers instead. It's a bold move Hitoka wasn't sure she had the courage for until it was done, but the way Kiyoko eases into a soft smile erases any doubt in her heart that it was a good move.

(It's a good reminder that they are in this together and she is good enough for her, despite what Hitoka sometimes fears.)

Hitoka doesn't press Kiyoko for information this time. Kiyoko would tell her if it were necessary… so it probably isn't. Which is also untrue, because seeing the normally composed Shimizu Kiyoko show up on your doorstep looking two moments from tears is Important and Needs To Be Fixed. So, necessary. …To Hitoka, not to Kiyoko.

Kiyoko hadn't cried at all, but she's drinking tea like it's going out of style, and she has yet to really meet Hitoka's inquisitive gaze.

But she does, finally, bring it up after Hitoka laces their fingers. "May I ask for some advice?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" she replies, too eagerly, but Kiyoko's smile widens into something reassured and infinitely more beautiful.

"How much would you hide for the greater good? Say you're trying to do something to help a lot of people. But you have to keep secrets for it. From people you care about."

Hitoka's heart sinks even as her expression remains resolute. So this is about Kiyoko's plan for the apocalypse, as far as she can guess—what else could it be about? Maybe something to do with Sugawara? "That sometimes can't be avoided," she replies neutrally while she tries to figure out what would help best. What would help the situation best—and what would help Kiyoko best?

Which would Hitoka pick?

She has a feeling she's paralleling Kiyoko's worries.

"But what if this hurts people? And what if it doesn't come down on you to protect that secret? How can I ask others to do this if they don't know what they're protecting?" Kiyoko continues and squeezes her hand hard. "It's one thing to ask them as a personal favor, but if sh—this begins hurting people, I don't know if I can do that."

"Informed consent is important. But so is keeping people safe." There's surprisingly little sting about not being included in this big secret, but Hitoka is pretty used to Kiyoko doing this by now. It's the lack of hurt that allows her to tell her, "There's no rule for what is important enough to do this kind of stuff for. I-I know that there's a lot of big stuff on the horizon, and I know you're going to protect us all. But I know you don't like hurting people."

"No," Kiyoko sadly agrees.

"But that's what you have me for," Hitoka declares.

Kiyoko finally looks up at her, and she can only read surprise in the many emotions that flit across her face.

"I'm a healer, and sometimes bad things happen even while we try to do good. I can fix things if they get messed up. I think everyone knows that bad things happen, a-anyway, and you don't have to worry about them hating you. We trust you, Kiyoko. We trust your judgment and whatever you're planning, even if you have to keep it a secret," Hitoka tells her and hopes she comes across as sincere instead of piling more pressure onto her. Because that's the last thing Kiyoko needs, and Hitoka doesn't want to be responsible for some sort of horrible breakdown—

Tears drip down Kiyoko's cheeks.

Hitoka goes rigid.

"I'm sorry," Kiyoko says and moves her glasses to wipe at her eyes. "That just—came at a very good time, th-thank you, but I'm sorry that I have to keep this from anyone at all. From you."

"I'm sorry!" Hitoka echoes back in a squeak.

"Y-Your support means a lot to me. It always has."

"I'll support you no matter what!" she hastens to continue, glad she found this bit of progress. Glad she got her to smile again even if there's crying involved. Kiyoko doesn't respond, but she allows Hitoka to tug her against her chest, and she strokes through her dark hair until her shoulders stop shaking.

-.-.-

Kenma wakes up to low voices and too much heat surrounding him. He squints and finds tan hair tickling his nose, someone purring with his back to Kenma's chest: Morisuke, in human form, little spoon.

So the big, lanky thing wrapped around behind him must be—

Kenma twists to find green eyes peeking out beneath silver bangs. Lev tightens his hands around Kenma's waist, and Kenma is torn between alarm and embarrassment. "Shh," Lev whispers in his ear, and Kenma swings into embarrassment at the inadvertent intimacy of this scene. "They're pretending they aren't arguing."

Kenma doesn't have to ask who they are, since soon he hears what is undoubtedly a pair trying to stay quiet and miserably failing. It doesn't help that they're in the same room. Morisuke scoots down, enough to clear Kenma's sight, and he discovers Kuro and Bokuto, crouched down near Lev's closet, hissing at each other and the latter slowly bleeding through a too tight shirt that must be Lev's.

Not that it seems to deter him at all. "We can fix this there!" Bokuto grumbles, looking as irritated as Kenma has ever seen him. "Not like I've seen human magic fix much."

"We can take care of ourselves!" Kuro replies through gritted, sharp teeth. He appears to be having difficulty staying upright, but Kenma is glad to see that he's still human in appearance. He has vague memories of Kuro losing form, but if he's already settled again, then maybe not.

"Let us help you! You and Kenma both!"

"We're fine on our own!"

"Do you feel fine on your own?" Morisuke asks wryly, and Kenma ducks behind him when both Bokuto and Kuro snap their attention over to the bed. Lev puts out an arm to stop them from approaching, but Kenma cannot hide from Morisuke when he rolls over to face him. "This is the second time you've collapsed because of this, recently. That's notfine."

"I'm not dead yet, am I," Kenma humorlessly replies.

"Even Kei has the grace to ask for help when he needs it, and he doesn't have tengu fawning over him."

"Yeah!" Bokuto agrees. "I'm sure our healers can look at you two—"

"Is a side effect of having a demon leashed to you a self-destructive streak?" Morisuke asks, cutting across Bokuto without batting an eye.

Kuro's hackles raise at that, and Lev sits up, pacifying words on the tip of his tongue, but Kenma beats them all to a reply. "That's not Kuro, it's on me. And if you don't like it, you can stop worrying about me so much. You won't hurt my feelings," he tells him levelly. After a moment, he adds, "And that's not part of my self-destructive streak, either, so you don't have to worry."

Morisuke fixes him with an incredibly unimpressed look, and it's rather telling that only then he decides to stop purring. Kenma misses the soft vibration, but he won't let the bakeneko get into another fight with Kuro, nor will he let him be curt with Bokuto, either. Bokuto definitely doesn't deserve that right now, not when he's already fighting with the others.

Kenma wishes they'd all stop fighting.

"Thank you, Lev," Kenma says and shuffles toward the foot of the bed. Lev looks torn between them as he chews on his lip, and Kenma looks away from him. "Come on, Kuro. We're going now."

Nevermind the fact that he broke his broom, still aches all over, Kuro's barely keeping together, Bokuto looks ready to pounce on them—

Kenma takes one step off the bed and his knees buckle.

Nevermind the fact that he apparently can't fucking walk yet.

It's Morisuke who tugs him back upright, gently manhandling him back onto the bed, and Kenma uses his loose hair to hide his burning face. "At this point, you're supposed to swallow your pride and accept that we care about you," he deadpans. "Even if you're a brat at times."

It's not pride, Kenma thinks, but can't vocalize it. Let him think what he will.

"We have really talented healers," Bokuto points out, earning an immediate scoff from Kuro.

"And they've worked with a lot of demon contracts?"

"Can tengu even get contracted to demons?" Lev wonders aloud, and Kenma snorts at the mental image of Bokuto or Akaashi saddled with Kuro. "Do they work often with witches?"

"Well, not really," Bokuto fields sheepishly, twiddling his thumbs, avoiding eye contact. "But it's a fresh perspective! We can help humans, and—and if nothing else, you can come get your stuff."

Kenma is aware of Kuro's eyes on him, watching him for a sign of how to react. "…We'll get our things, and apologize to Akaashi, too," Kenma sighs.

It ought to be illegal how Bokuto lights up.

It quickly turns into an escort mission, and Kenma ends up as the annoying one who can't keep pace with the rest of them. His magic seems to be on the fritz, but Bokuto can cast the ignore-me spell on himself, at least; Kenma ignores the twinge in his chest at seeing his own magic used by another. Morisuke borrows a hat from Lev and wraps his tail around his waist, and Kenma changes out of his ruined clothes and also borrows something from Lev.

"It's a good thing I'm so big," Lev declares, ignoring the irate way both Kenma and Morisuke huff into the too-big clothes. "But I'm going to have to go shopping again soon if everyone keeps stealing them. I'm not very good at getting blood out."

"I'm sure Alisa will love to go with you," Kuro innocently remarks.

Lev shuts up with a sound that can only be described as eep.

Only Bokuto is immune to the horror that is Haiba Alisa With Magical Knowledge; Kenma feels him staring at him from behind, and sweats it until Bokuto murmurs, "That's big enough to look like a dress on you. What kind of tengu do you think you'd be?"

"Sorry, but he'd be a cat if he were a spirit," Morisuke drawls in something approaching protective.

"Tengu are stronger, and Kenma is the strongest witch I know," Bokuto replies. He probably means it harmlessly, but Morisuke bristles.

"Wouldn't Kenma be a demon?" Lev asks, probably also meaning it innocently. "He's already halfway there, kinda…?"

"Lev, just shut up," Morisuke sighs.

"Are we going to the tengu realm, too?" he asks instead of following orders, but Kenma considers it a small miracle that he changed the subject. Bokuto barks out a laugh and Lev droops.

"I'll text you some pictures," Kenma offers.

"I thought human things didn't work in other realms."

"Kenma's phone and laptop worked there fine," Kuro says, perking up with curiosity. Bokuto nods along, and Kenma's shoulders touch his ears as he hunches away from their attention.

"Well… I started spellwriting because of technomancy, so…"

"So you wrote a spell to get human technology working in another realm," Morisuke translates, and Kenma nods as the tall trio coo, impressed.

"I needed wifi," Kenma adds under his breath.

"What's wifi?" Bokuto asks blankly.

"I'll explain it later, Bo," Kuro replies. Kenma would pay a sizeable amount of money to hear Kuro's explanation and hopes he's around for that particular trainwreck.

They leave Lev and Morisuke in the goblin market, and the atmosphere immediately changes now that they're alone with Bokuto. If he notices, he does a stellar job at not letting it show; he leads the way with a hum, happily limping along, oblivious to the way creatures and spirits stare at his blood-soaked shirt.

Why is he so worried about fixing us when he's still hurt? Kenma wonders, suspicious and amused in confusingly equal parts. He knows higher spirits are hardy, but shit. He's still limping, too, but despite the mess he is, the only discomfort Bokuto has shown was when he moves his broken arm-wing.

"Stay close to me," Bokuto mutters and grabs their hands to lead them through the realm door.

Kenma wishes he hadn't flinched from the contact, but the damage is done, and Bokuto is quick to let him go again on the other side, even when he and Kuro remain connected.

"Uh, we should probably find Akaashi first—" is as far as Bokuto gets before they're swarmed.

It's the two guards for the portal at first, noticing the blood and pointing pikes at them, but they're quickly followed by the winged woman from before. Kenma immediately attaches himself to Kuro, and Kuro raises his arms in surrender as Bokuto is forced away from them. There's too many questions, everything about Bokuto's state to the status of the demon to how it happened—and the trio have the supreme misfortune to have "Did they do this to you?" be the last question hanging in the air when everything falls silent.

Akaashi, dressed in a guard's uniform but sans helmet or weapon, shoves one of the guards out of the way and stares at Bokuto.

"H-Hey," Bokuto says with a crooked grin, frozen from where he'd been trying to drag the pike's point away from Kuro.

Akaashi drags their eyes away from Bokuto's injuries long enough to stare at the other two with a terrifyingly unreadable expression.

"You need to see a healer," Akaashi tells him.

Bokuto nods, too eagerly, but doesn't release his grip on the pole. "So does Kenma—"

And that starts the arguing all over again. Kenma digs his fingers into Kuro as they're pulled apart, and for a moment it looks like the guards will resort to violence to subdue them. But Akaashi elbows their way into the fray and puts themselves bodily between one of the guards and the witch.

"Calm down," the winged woman calls, to the clear annoyance of the guards.

"Listen to Suzumeda," Akaashi grinds out, although they also seem irritated. "Listen to the spirit of justice. These are our friends."

"Only one is tengu friend," Suzumeda replies. Akaashi's expression dips into a glower and Bokuto lets out a squawk of outrage.

"Forgive us if we're alarmed if you come back looking as if you've been chewed on by a dragon. Again," one of the guards says flatly, and Bokuto lowers his head. "No one declared them as guests, either, nor were proper protocols followed—"

"They were staying with us, we already declared that," Akaashi interrupts.

"They left," Suzumeda once again supplies. "Upset," she adds to Akaashi's further aggravation.

"That was just a little, uh, spat," Bokuto nervously answers, and that once again begins the jostling as the tengu bristle at the thought of anyone harming one of their own. The situation only gets worse when he, in an effort to drag Kuro away, gets knocked to the ground and he lets out a yelp of pain.

"Spat?" one of the guards demands and rips her pike out of Akaashi's grip to level it once more at Kenma. "Were you attacked?"

"That has nothing to do with today! This wasn't them!" Bokuto snaps, and at least Suzumeda helps him back to his feet, but she tugs him from Kuro at the same time. "They saved my life, and I want to declare the witch tengu friend for it. So they're both covered—"

"Not if he has outstanding issues," the other guard replies.

"Kuro is tengu friend," Akaashi repeats in a growl.

After a long, tense beat, he lowers his weapon and Kuro lets out an inappropriately large relieved sigh. "There are two issues at hand, and they ought to be resolved separately," Suzumeda advises, and both guards shoot her another dark look.

"I think we can handle tengu affairs on our own, thank you."

"I'm only trying to help," she replies with a defensive fluff of her wings. "Bokuto is hurt, and it helps no one to falsely point fingers. Don't be hasty."

"Kenma didn't hurt me today! He saved me, and I want to make him a friend!" Bokuto loudly insists.

"Today? If there was an altercation earlier, that must be cleared before anything else."

"Can we lower the pointy things and the voices?" Kuro tries, to the group's collective irritation. He backs down like a kicked dog, and tries to slink over to Kenma, but is blocked by one of the guards. He circles around to Bokuto's side and Bokuto clings hard to his arm as soon as he's near.

Kenma appreciates Akaashi's physical support right now, but he really wishes they'd listened to Kuro and stopped yelling for two seconds. Honestly, that's worse than the weapons, and it doesn't help that he just wants to sit down and plug his ears for a bit. Just throw me in jail if it means you shut up, he bitterly thinks.

"Did you, or did you not, have an altercation with Bokuto on the day that you willingly left tengu space?" one of the guards demands, clear at last.

Kenma nods before he can see the frantic way Bokuto is shaking his head behind the guards.

"No!" Akaashi tries to get between them again, but this time, Kenma is yanked away, arms twisted behind his back. "No, that was nothing," Akaashi repeats, forcing a calm. Kenma is frozen in fear, heart thrumming somewhere in his throat. "That was a personal affair and has been resolved."

"Attacks on tengu in their space by non-tengu persons supercede personal privacy except in cases of domestic disputes," one of the guards recites. Akaashi's lip curls and Kenma quakes in the grasp of the other guard. Of course it wouldn't be as simple as Bokuto had implied; of course they were going to get in trouble.

It's stupid, so stupid, largely miscommunication mixed with the admitted stuffiness of the bird spirits, but Kenma's fear mutes him. He doesn't know what another misstep could do. There's a slim chance he could surprise them, slip free, and bolt for the realm door, but that's only if Bokuto and Akaashi don't try to catch them—and Kenma isn't certain what the valkyrie is capable of.

But without his magic—

"Bokuto Koutarou declares the human witch Kozume Kenma to be his mate," Bokuto announces loudly.

No one says anything.

Kenma is really fucking sure he hadn't heard that correctly.

"It was a personal issue," Bokuto continues when it becomes abundantly clear that no one is going to dare follow up to that. "And now it's going to remain that way. Let him go and let us call the healers already!"

Still no one says anything. Kenma feels like he's going to vomit. He can feel the guard's reluctance before he's released, and the only real thing that breaks the deafening silence is the sound of Akaashi facepalming.

-.-.-

Ryuunosuke isn't sure who will kill him first: Kiyoko or Saeko. It could be a race. Maybe they'd team up.

Tadashi fumbles and drops the silver bowie knife he'd been loaned, then jumps at his own noise.

Maybe Suga will get in on the action, Ryuu supposes.

"Sorry," he whispers, and startles again when Yuu yanks off the antler he'd had hanging around his neck, reappearing without a sound.

"Yama, it's just a fear spirit. You don't have to be scared yet!" he says, meaning to be reassuring. That's how Yuu usually works. But Tadashi nods like he'd been scolded.

Ryuu pauses and shoulders his bag. Taking a deep breath, he forces on a grin and turns to tell Tadashi, "Higher spirits are tricky fuckers, but honestly, nothing too terrible. They don't make a habit of eating humans like wendigo, at least."

"There's nothing to fear but fear itself!" Yuu adds.

"B-But this is the one that hurt your sister, and…" Tadashi toys with the sheathed knife, brow furrowed, mouth twisted in a trembling frown. "And I'm not sure why you need me here."

"One," Ryuu says, pointer finger out, "you have magic, and Noya an' I are kinda shit at that. That also should make you more resistant to any fear thralls, too, so chill, kid."

"Two," Yuu continues with that many fingers, "you wanna train to be a hunter or an exorcist? That means on the job training! And since we're your experienced, talented elders here, we're more than happy to take you on as an intern while Suga is off fucking around with Daichi."

"Okay," Tadashi replies, softly but with more firmness than he's shown thus far.

"Good. And three, you're staying out of the fighting, anyway. You're just here to keep the thing contained while we eviscerate the fucker," Ryuu finishes. Tadashi looks at him through his bangs, then raises his head fully when he sees the sharp grin Ryuu doesn't have to fake anymore.

They usually aren't allowed to take on revenge jobs. Tadashi doesn't need to know that yet.

"Here." Yuu yanks Tadashi down to his level—the gangly teen flails—and drops the leather string with the antler tied to it around his neck. It bounces off his chest, and Tadashi vanishes from sight. "You got that intangibility spell that Kenma made for you, too, right? Congrats, you're an honorary ghost tonight."

Yuu turns, but not fast enough for Ryuunosuke to miss his expression at his own words. He doesn't comment, but instead waves in the general direction of Tadashi. He's easier to keep an eye on out of his peripherals, but paying that much attention to him like that is headache-inducing, so Ryuu will rely on him to take care of himself.

They'd already had the If We Tell You To Run, You Fucking Run talk with him (multiple times), so he should be safe. Honestly, Ryuu isn't that worried. He's killed spirits like this before, though usually with his sister, or at least a dog to help sniff out any hiding spirits. Yuu's new mutts aren't trained yet, and he's very insistent that they're pets, anyway, so that means Ryuunosuke leads the way with his camera held out, eyes on the screen.

Of course the fucking fear spirit decided to hide out in an abandoned train depot. Of course it's overcast and dreary and darker than usual today.

"At least we got your new secret weapon," Yuu says with a grin like he'd sensed Ryuu's nerves. Little shit probably had.

"That's for old gods," he replies with a frown. "We only got so many."

"Secret weapon?" Tadashi asks curiously.

Yuu spins on his heel, walking backwards, rifle held in the crook of his elbow while he gestures excitedly around it. "It was Ryuu's idea, and it was a bitch and a half to track down, but we got vorpium bullets! It worked on the cat guy, so it should work on any others, right?"

"Vorpium coating on .22 ammo," Ryuu dryly corrects, trying hard not to let Yuu's praise fluster him. "It's too soft to be used for all of it. Expensive shit, but we have a dozen rounds, and that should put a dent even in a Great Old One's ass."

"We also have buckshot! Six shots, mix of vorpium and silver and purifying salt."

"It won't do outright damage but it's going to hurt something like a son of a bitch."

Tadashi makes a thoughtful, impressed sound, and Ryuu tries hard not to let that go to his head, too. It was a pretty amazing idea, huh. The asshole kitsune in the market had tried to fleece him, but Saeko had knocked some sense into him, and while Ryuu has all faith that Kiyoko and Suga will put the brakes on the apocalypse, he likes being prepared.

And, if nothing else, they can use it on other big, scary monsters. There's no shortage of those in the world.

"What d'you think vorpal stuff would do to dragon scale?" Yuu asks conversationally.

"Borrow Sawamura's sword and try to stab Oikawa. His shapeshifter bodyguard would let you test it, I'm sure."

"Iwaizumi's nice," Tadashi mumbles.

"And he probably would be pretty pissed if we ruined his skin," Ryuunosuke agrees with a shrug. "But I don't know where else to find a dragon this time of year."

Tadashi fidgets, a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

There's a clatter of noise down the hallway, and Ryuu's fist shoots up in a hold motion. In hindsight, he isn't sure if Tadashi ever got the memo on such things, but he follows their lead. Ryuu creeps forward, handgun held at the ready, and approaches a doorless gap in the wall. He spots a shadow of movement from it, and thinks, bingo.

He gestures the other two forward, and he and Yuu spring into the room with weapons held out.

They do not find a fear spirit.

Ryuu catches just the barest flicker of movement before they discover that they're pointing their guns right between the eyes of Azumane Asahi.

Training prevents Yuu from dropping his rifle altogether, but his arms go limp and the tip of it clatters against the floor.

Asahi does not startle—his eyes hardly widen—but he puts his hands up like he's surrendering. He doesn't make a sound.

Yuu starts forward, expression twisted into something far too personal and vulnerable for the situation, and he throws himself toward Asahi before Ryuu can rein him back. "A-Asahi," he says, voice cracking, and Asahi steps back only then looking afraid.

"Wait, Noya, that's not—"

Asahi turns and flees through the far wall, and Yuu vaults over the broken desks and is through the far door before Ryuu is halfway up the mound of broken wood. Ryuu lets himself slide back down to solid ground, swearing, and searches the room for anything else.

"Yamaguchi, go after Noya, and seal the place behind you. That wasn't Asahi, make sure he knows that!" he growls. Yuu's shouts for him echo off of the empty walls, and Ryuunosuke hopes Tadashi followed his orders.

Is it weird to hope to be alone with an unknown creature? Eh, maybe.

"You have her eyes," a new voice purrs, behind him.

Ryuunosuke whirls around but finds his gun and camera both pointing at nothing.

"You're supposed to be professionals, right?" comes the insidious croon, too close again, and Ryuunosuke tries to elbow whatever it is before turning. He thinks he feels something brush his arm, but he finds nothing again. "Granted, I'm not playing very fair! But it's kind of funny to see the short one run off so fast."

"What the shit are you supposed to be," Ryuu snarls, eyes still searching out anything else in the room with him. It's definitely not a goddamned fear spirit. Think, fucking think! It can make illusions, but we both saw it. Invisible? Fast? Human speech—

"It was hard tricking two psychics, but the results sure were worth it. Of course, this time I'd actually like to eat something, but I knew if I kept leaving a trail I'd have more than enough trigger-happy hunters lining up for my dinner plate."

With a chuckle, Ryuunosuke's opponent detaches from the broken ceiling, one spindly limb at a time. It's too long, too many joints, none of it making sense. He's starting to think he accidentally stumbled into the lair of some sort of eldritch horror when the creature's head flops down to his eye-level. He finds himself staring at a single eye with a slitted pupil and deep colors swirling like galaxies within it.

Fucking. Fuck.

He found a trickster.

The thing slithers around him on knobbly little stumps, a writhing mass of no logic and no rules, and its eye squints shut in a happy, unseen smile. "So, it was your sister, right? The one with the dog? Too young to be your mom, and you don't come charging into some place like this for a friend with a startling resemblance."

Ryuu manages to shoot it right in its big, bulbous eye, which pops like a balloon. The thing reappears beside him, in the guise of Saeko, grinning with too-sharp teeth and one eye socket empty and bloody. Ryuunosuke does not hesitate to shoot it again.

"Touchy!" the trickster pouts. He's viciously pleased to see that this time, when it slinks off, it's bleeding, even if the colors it drips aren't quite right.

Ryuu shakes his head to clear his vision. The thing is too close when he blinks, backing him up against the wall, pinning his dominant wrist and forcing him to drop his 9mm. "The fuck is a trickster doing here, anyway?" he grinds out, ignoring the feeling of the monster's breath on his throat.

"Well, this is the party city, right? What with the apocalypse coming and all that," it replies, eye crinkling again. "That means there's gonna be a lot of stupid people, like you and your pals, who are panicking. That's pretty easy pickings."

"There are half a dozen covens in this city. You're going to get hunted down."

"Pity they all think I'm a fear spirit, huh!" It laughs, not maliciously, eye and the skinny little neck tipping back in mirth. "By the time anyone bothers putting a witch hunt together—excuse my language—half the town will be eaten by things far bigger than I, and I'll be long gone."

An opportunistic higher spirit, exactly what they need. The grip on his arm is like steel, but Ryuunosuke isn't helpless, and the thing made the mistake of leaving his other arm down by his side. He pulls out the .22 pistol from his thigh holster and shoves it directly into the trickster's eye. It shrieks and coils away like an injured snake; Ryuunosuke shifts his arm so he has its arm in his grip now, keeping it from skittering backwards as he unloads the clip into it.

By the time he's done, there's blood and eye juice splattered everywhere. He releases it and swings his other arm around to point his 9mm at it, and feels no remorse despite the way it cowers and curses at his feet.

"The thing about baiting hunters is that we're not stupid when it comes to monsters like you."

"No, you're very helpful!" a new voice rings out.

Both Ryuu and the trickster blink, and surprise stops him from pulling the trigger for a hair too long. A man with red hair and red fox ears floats down next to them, reclining in the air, chin in his hands. A crooked fox tail swings idly behind him.

Shithead must've come in during the shooting, Ryuu sourly thinks, but doesn't pull his gun from the trickster. "Here to steal a kill? Your next dinner?" he asks, sneering as hard as he can.

"Neither, actually," the fox spirit replies.

"You friends with it?" Quick as he can, he pulls the knife on his belt free, even if the fox is on the wrong side for him to properly point it. He could try throwing it at him, but he doubts that it'd work.

Ryuunosuke realizes who the fucking fox is at the same moment that he feels a warm blade at his throat. "We have need of a higher spirit," Ushijima says flatly from behind him.

"Yikes," the trickster says and begins shuffling away. The fox guy drops down to sit on it.

"Motherfucker," Ryuunosuke hisses and slowly re-sheathes his knife. Ushijima doesn't waver until he lowers his gun, too. If he had any confidence of being able to kill the trickster with one or two more shots, then he probably would've went for it.

Ushijima slides past him and the trickster narrows its ruined eye up at him. "You're the party animal then, huh? The one working for the big-shot? You got a real nasty curse on you, that's not going to go away with a paycheck. What's it payin' you, huh?"

Ushijima doesn't react and reaches down to grasp it by its spindly neck. He hoists it up and it scrabbles at him like a spider. Ryuunosuke could probably shoot him in the back, if not the back of the head, but the redhead's sharp eyes are on him.

Kiyoko and Tadashi both told him what sort of monster Ushijima has become. Ryuu can't take all three of them out, or even two of them, not alone, not quick. He'd kill the trickster if he could, but he can't, nor can he even incapacitate the other two long enough to buy himself the time. He doesn't even care what would happen to himself afterward, but he still can't do it alone.

Now would be a really good time for my backup to arrive, he thinks, but of course he's not the lucky one.

"What's so great about ending the world, anyway? Or the city, or anything?" the trickster tries, but it's not as pleadingly as Ryuunosuke would expect. "What is it that you want out of this? Or do you just like this ugly mug that much?"

It slips out of Ushijima's hands and reappears as something tall, looming over all of them, colorless and horned in too many directions. It crinkles its empty eyes and grins with too many teeth, teeth that don't make any more sense than its antlers, and even if it's a copy it hurts to look at it.

It's enough of a shock to still Ushijima, and Ryuunosuke takes his shot. Shots. One into the back of the witch's head, and he goes down with a curse, and the rest of his bullets end up in the trickster. It laughs, panicked and high-pitched, trying to squirm out of the way, form twisting and turning as it rolls around the room. Finally, it gives up on its borrowed form and reclaims its true form, lashing out with needle-like limbs.

The fox yips as one catches him, and Ryuunosuke ducks under one to end up with another through his shoulder. He kicks at another to stop it from going through his stomach, and it glances off his hip instead. The trickster's cackling winds up, louder and going up in octaves when it realizes that it has two of them in its clutches.

Ushijima stands again, now behind it, and Ryuunosuke sees a flicker of something behind him. There's enough magic suddenly in the room for even him to feel it, and he spits the awful taste out of his mouth as the trickster slowly turns in horror.

"Sleep-bind-freeze-control," Ushijima rasps with scarlet on his teeth. The trickster goes rigid, and slowly falls over, dragging Ryuunosuke and the spirit with it. Ushijima scrubs a hand over his face with a heavy sigh like he'd just had a long day at the office.

Ryuunosuke cuts himself free, not bothering with the leg still stuck in him, and points his gun straight at Ushijima. It's a hollow threat.

Ushijima gives him a level look. "Move, so I can get my friend free," he orders. Ryuunosuke does not move, does not falter. Ushijima walks right up to him, letting the barrel press against his chest, and forces Ryuunosuke's arm down himself.

Ryuu can't bring himself to pull the trigger now.

"I'd like to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, and since you're not a threat, I don't have any real quarrel with you," Ushijima says simply. Ryuu bares his teeth at him, but the bony limb through his shoulder is making his arm ache, and he fucking hates it, but he eventually lowers the gun. It's a defeat.

For now.

If they were able, they would have grabbed the trickster and had the fox spirit jump with it, so that means that they have to drag it out of here. That gives him time, time to track down Yuu and Tadashi, time to figure some way out of this that doesn't involve handing Ushijima one of his last ingredients. The higher spirit and the tengu First egg are the last easily-tracked things.

Ushijima murmurs something to the fox spirit with a softness that's at odds with his six-foot-plus, blood-blade-wielding, professional-killer persona, and even more at odds with the way he hauls the trickster up over one shoulder like it weighs no more than a pillow. It slips through his fingers, not anything purposeful but a simple matter of its fact, but he tightens his hold and shifts it around until he can haul it out with ease.

Ushijima nods to him as he passes him, like a sign of respect or gratitude or something. Ryuunosuke balls his fists until his nails digging into his palms draw blood.

The fox spirit gives him a peace sign as he floats out after them.

Ryuunosuke waits exactly one heartbeat after they leave, then bolts for the other doorway. The burning pain at his hip is easier to ignore than the one in his shoulder, but adrenaline and sheer fucking indignity spur him onward.

"Noya!" he bellows. Who fucking cares if Ushijima and Fox in Socks hears him—they're pretty damn stupid if they had truly thought he'd come alone, anyway. "Yamaguchi?! Noya—get your asses back here now!"

He doesn't hear anything over his own thudding heart and the pounding of his boots on the broken tiles. Fuck. Well, it's not like the situation is any worse without them, right? Sure, Ushijima is walking away with one of the last keys to the end of days, and sure, Ryuunosuke may be the only thing standing between them and their goal. And sure, it's not like Ryuunosuke wants to deal with a trickster after saving its ass, either.

But by leaving him in one piece, Ushijima made the supreme mistake of giving Ryuu time.

He finds a set of stairs that aren't too horribly mangled, and it's not too hard to crawl through broken pillars and rebar. There's only three stories to the place, and this stairwell goes all the way up.

Ryuu slings off his backpack as he bursts onto the roof. It's still gloomy out, misting finely, threatening further rain. But for the moment, it's clear.

He heads to the nearest edge of the roof and looks for any movement. Ryuu circles halfway around before he finds them: the trickster is twitching again by now, and Ushijima has stopped, about a hundred yards out, presumably to re-spell it.

Ryuunosuke pulls out his .22 rifle from his backpack and digs around until he finds the expensive, god-killing shit. He hopes he doesn't have to use it for its intended purpose, and he hopes to fuck that this isn't a waste should he need to use it for its intended purpose. He really only wants to take one shot.

He gets the trickster in his sights, exhales to steady himself, and pulls the trigger.

The bullet pierces straight through the spindly, illogical body, and the trickster jerks and shrieks, pain overriding any witch magic on it. Ushijima starts, whirling around—the fox spirit tries to pull the trickster back while it flails—Ryuunosuke yells "Fuck!" because this can't get any worse with that addition.

He thinks, briefly, about going for Ushijima. Ushijima is an asshole and a traitor to humanity and probably at least half-zombie, but he wasn't Ryuu's target for today, and according to the magical populace at large, he's nothing that deserves a death sentence. Yet.

It's unfair as all fuck and Ryuunosuke grits his teeth as he lines up another shot at the trickster. Maybe if Ushijima kills him today they'll finally have enough dirt on him to send some proper hunters after him.

With his second shot, the trickster dies. Its body begins melting into multicolored, steaming goop at the same time that Ushijima turns and starts sprinting back toward the depot. Ryuu can see the murder in his eyes even from where he is.

His fingers itch to load another bullet. Surely it would do something to him. He has a human body, fragile and squishy and full of organs to be punctured, but… He doesn't know what shooting anything even nonvital would do with vorpium metal in a human body.

Right when he lowers his sights down to aim at a leg, two things happen at once: Ushijima jumps into the air with the aid of magic, height halfway up the building even if he's not quite close enough to be a direct threat yet, and there's another gunshot.

Ushijima tumbles backwards through the air from the force of it, seeming more surprised than anything else. He hits the ground and Ryuu leans over the edge of the building, scanning for his mysterious buddy—

It's Yuu. Of course it's Yuu. He's leaning out of the furthest window on the second floor, rifle beneath him, Tadashi nowhere in sight. (Of course.) Ryuunosuke can't quite make out his expression from here, but he makes a gesture that he hopes to hell is a thumbs-up. Ryuu's going to act like it is.

Ryuu drops his rifle, pulls out his 9mm, and loads a new magazine in the time it takes for Ushijima to get unsteadily back to his feet. It looks like Yuu read his mind and got him in the thigh; Ryuu fucking loves being on the same wavelength. "Oi, assface," Ryuunosuke calls down to the witch, hoping to draw attention. He lifts his free middle finger and sticks out his tongue. "Guess who stole the kill?!"

Ushijima does, in fact, turn back to him. His jump is wobbly, but he rights himself in the air, far too quick for Ryuunosuke's tastes. Ushijima casts some sort of magic over himself, and Ryuunosuke unfortunately figures out what it is when his next shot deflects off his other leg.

Okay, so bulletproof, pissed, big and scary and powerful, yadda yadda yadda. Ryuu already feels better with Yuu at his proverbial back, but this poses a problem if they don't figure out a way to call Ushijima off. Or, alternately, run like fuck.

They have no bargaining chips and Ryuu's only ace in the hole are the vorpium bullets. Of which he has ten left. It should punch through magic, but if he ends up blowing through his entire stash today, he's going to be pissed. Rightly so.

Pissed, but not dead.

Ushijima's next jump brings him level with the roof, and he has pulled his own blood into a wicked, curved blade. He's close enough Ryuu could probably hit him in the head if he threw his gun. He's going to land next to him, or on him, and Ryuu won't be able to grab the rifle back in time, even if he dives for it. But he's gotta try—

Another gunshot rings out, this time punctuated with an animalistic yip like someone shot a dog.

Ushijima's eyes go wide and he misses his landing.

He tumbles onto the concrete with a pained grunt, hardly an arm's length from Ryuunosuke, and doesn't pay him any mind at all as he scrambles around and rushes back to the edge. Ryuunosuke can see the fox guy is down now, bleeding and unmoving.

Ushijima doesn't spare him a second look before launching from the corner of the roof and landing heavily three stories down.

Interesting. But also for later. Ryuunosuke grabs his shit, throws it into the backpack, and hauls ass for the stairs again. He collides with an unseen teenager halfway down, and Tadashi yanks off the antler to reveal wide, fearful eyes. "We gotta go!" he exclaims.

"No shit!" Ryuunosuke retorts and shoves him back the way he came. "Grab Noya and—you can't shove us through walls, too, can ya?"

"No, sorry!"

"That's fine—you go out, make sure those two are gone, and run like hell back to the truck. Call Kiyoko, and take it and—"

"I can't drive," Tadashi interrupts in a panic. He catches Ryuu by the elbow when he tries to barrel down the wrong hallway, and steers him towards Yuu, who pops up at the other end, rifle held like a trophy above his head.

"They fucking ran! They jumped, so foxy's still alive, and Ushijima thinks it won't kill him!" Yuu calls.

"It won't kill him," Tadashi mutters. Yuu throws himself at them as soon as he's near, and Ryuu catches him effortlessly. His eyes are rimmed red and there's what looks to be a burn on one of his hands, but he's in one piece, and doesn't have a piece of trickster leg sticking out of him, so he's doing better than Ryuu is.

"New plan: I drive, Noya calls, and Yamaguchi lets us be lucky enough to get out of here in one piece."

"Why do I have to call her?!"

"She can't be mad at you!"

They don't get reception until they're almost to the corpse of the trickster. Tadashi wrinkles his nose at the sight of it, and Yuu pointedly looks away from it. Ryuu sighs, rolls his eyes, and drags the solid bits along after them. It's going to make a mess of the truck, but oh well. They came out of this in one piece and technically killed the monster they were after, so he'll consider this a win.

-.-.-

"Where are you hurt?" Akaashi asks as soon as they're around a corner and out of sight of the guards.

"I'm fine," Kenma automatically replies, then he realizes what he's said. He slowly lower his shoulders from around his ears.

"Why does Koutarou think you need a healer?" they ask.

Kenma does not respond this time. Akaashi sighs, after a little bit, and glances back at their mate. Their mate. Plural, this time. Kenma wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and does not turn to look at Bokuto.

After some initial arguing wherein Bokuto did not back down and Kenma resolved to shut up forever, they were allowed the leave. The valkyrie followed them anyway. Suzumeda is still talking with Bokuto, not in low tones so much as faintly exasperated ones, but she doesn't seem mad or hostile. Bokuto hasn't shooed her away, nor has Akaashi mentioned her presence.

Kenma, as terrible with directions as he is, doesn't know where they are. Kuro is behind them, next to Bokuto, and Kenma would rather gnaw off his arm than cling to Akaashi, but it's a close thing. He's lost, with people he'd rather not see (or be mated to) right now, and he doesn't know what will become of them. He thinks he dodged one bullet, but getting tied back to the tengu again seems to be little improvement.

"Breathe," Akaashi tells him, gently. Kenma un-hunches his shoulders again and takes their advice.

They end up in a different part of the residential area than Akaashi's place is, so Kenma can only surmise they're at Bokuto's or the healer's. He doesn't really want to deal with more strangers right now—shutting down may be the wisest choice of action if he wants to avoid blowing up at anyone. Again.

"I'm just—it's not bad, it's using the system to help someone!" Bokuto snaps at Suzumeda, nose in the air, an angry flush on his cheeks.

"If you two care about each other so much, why did you fight to begin with?" Suzumeda asks flatly.

Kenma wishes he didn't have to hear this conversation.

"You can be mates with someone to protect them," Bokuto points out, and Akaashi, for some reason, flinches at his words.

"You care enough to want to protect him. Are you being truer to your own feelings or to your loyalty to the witch?"

"Spirits of justice are so stuffy!"

"Says the tengu," Suzumeda replies, impossibly flatter. She sighs, shakes her bangs out of her eyes, and glances off to the side at Kuro. "Bokuto, it's best if you don't get into more trouble, isn't it?"

"This isn't a dragon."

"This is a witch and a demon."

"Kaori," Akaashi breaks in, turning to face her with a coldly neutral expression, "please keep in mind that you are a guest of our space and it's our value system that is ultimately the rule here, even if we appreciate your role."

"He's going to have more shit to deal with," Suzumeda replies with a point at the sulking screech owl tengu beside her. "The council is already judging you two, isn't it? I don't want to see either of you get hurt."

"Thank you for your concern, but kindly leave now."

She makes a face, but with a flap of her wings, she departs. Akaashi massages their temples with a weary sigh. They don't look up, but must feel Kenma's eyes on them, because they break into a humorless smile.

"Tengu politics are just as fun for us as they are for outsiders," they deadpan. They sigh again and raise their gaze to look at Bokuto, who still sulks. "You can't fly on your broken wing, so wait here. Kenma, please hold on."

That is as much warning as he gets before Akaashi scoops him up. Kenma goes rigid at the contact, only one hand grasping Akaashi's shoulder for support, but they drop him off several stories up without incident. They don't comment on the awkward flight. They're alone, momentarily, so Kenma takes the opportunity to blurt out, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Akaashi asks with a cool look.

"I didn't want this to happen."

"You're not coming between us, not the way you think. I think Koutarou is owed more apology than I, however." Akaashi glances down at their fuming mate, then back up to Kenma. "I haven't touched your things, and you're welcome to stop by and take them when you're done here. But, whatever happens, I'm not letting you leave until you apologize to him."

Kenma nods, and Akaashi hops back down to fetch the others. They deposit an incredibly frazzled Kuro next, who clings to Kenma. Kenma only finds reassurance in his touch; they don't speak of what just happened or what they're going to do, but instead of whether or not Kuro can handle all the flying that another stay here entails.

Bokuto and Akaashi come up last, and Akaashi must have said something to him, judging on the lack of pouting. "Welcome to my home," he mutters and limps inside, leading the way with a flick of his wrist to open the door. It's designed much like Akaashi's, with soft curves and dark wood, but it's messier and smaller. Kuro almost trips over a skirt in the entryway and Akaashi snorts at the state of the place.

"The healer will be here in about an hour, but I can check you over if you'd like," Akaashi politely offers.

Kenma shakes his head despite Kuro's pleading look.

"That's what I thought. Koutarou, come here so I can stop your bleeding."

Kuro and Kenma stay in the living room, alone again, and Kenma reaches over to twine their fingers together. Kuro lets him lean against him. As much as he wants to, however, Kenma knows they can't discuss many things here; tengu ears are sharp, and Kenma won't put Kuro through another solo trip down several stories if he can help it. "You're okay, right?" Kuro murmurs against his hair.

"I'm still in one piece." I feel like I'm going to throw up and I want to sleep for seven years.

Kuro places his free hand against Kenma's forehead, and the witch scrunches his nose. "You're still running a fever. Let them help you."

"Like Bokuto just helped me?"

"He stopped them from throwing you in prison or chopping off your head or something, and you know it," he scolds, and Kenma thinks that's unfair.

"You wanted to be Bokuto's mate. Akaashi wants that. I want to be left alone." Kenma is staunchly putting any thought of marriage rituals or consummation from his mind, because he's Certain he will do more than slap someone should that arise.

"Bo isn't a bad guy."

"No."

"It's all political, isn't it?"

"Who even knows with tengu," Kenma sighs.

When Akaashi reappears from the hallway, their expression doesn't let on that they've heard any of it, though they must have. Kuro stands, tugging Kenma up beside him, and Kenma clings stubbornly. "Where's Bo?" Kuro asks.

"He's changing into something less ruined. Would either of you like to talk about what just happened?"

"No," Kenma replies, cutting across Kuro's response. His demon rolls his eyes. Loudly.

And then, weirdly, he lets the matter go. Kenma peers up at him suspiciously; he was braced for another argument. "Do you have a place Kenma could lie down, maybe? He has a fever and I'm surprised he's still upright."

Akaashi raises an eyebrow, but leads them toward the bedroom, where Bokuto is sulking into a mirror as he pokes at his un-styled hair. He hastily sweeps claws back through it to get it out of his eyes when he spots them come in, but it falls back down a moment later. "I'll get you a cold cloth," Akaashi offers.

"Good idea!" Kuro detaches Kenma, with force, and tells him, "Wait here," like he's the one giving orders. Kenma is too shocked to do much more than stare. Kuro leaves him in there with Bokuto, shuts the door behind him, and asks Akaashi on the other side, "Lock them in, please?"

And the asshole does it.

Kenma is A: incredibly shocked Akaashi would lock them in here alone, and B: going to make sure that Kuro never uses one of Sugawara's ideas ever again. Sugawara probably talked to Akaashi, Kenma realizes with a frustrated sound. Bokuto jumps at the noise. The tengu looks like he's just been locked in with a predator three times his size with teeth as long as his arm.

Kenma doesn't say anything, goes over to the bed, and perches on the edge. It stops the room from swimming.

"Um… Why did they just lock us in here? We're not in any danger of hurting ourselves, are we?" Bokuto hesitantly asks.

Akaashi either trusts Kenma a lot, or Kuro a lot. "I'm sorry," Kenma tells him, curt but sincere. "I shouldn't have hit you, and I'm sorry for hurting you."

"That's okay!" Bokuto quickly replies, and to Kenma's discomfort, flops down onto the bowl-shaped bed next to him. Their legs are touching. "I probably shouldn't have gotten in your personal space, right?"

That's not it. And Bokuto is still oblivious to how close he is to Kenma right now.

"Or, was it the kiss thing? You don't have to—well, I mean, I kinda thought we liked each other, just a little, but don't worry! That has nothing to do with my decision today!" he declares, and strangely enough, that eases a little of the worry in Kenma's heart. Bokuto rolls over onto his back, not looking at him anymore, and tries to put distance between them; he fails and shifts back down to where Kenma's weight dents in the edge of the low point of the bed. His injured side presses against Kenma's lower back. "Attacking a tengu in our territory means you lose a limb or get punished by the tengu. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't know how well you can cast spells with your left hand," Bokuto adds.

"…Thank you, then," Kenma mumbles.

"I couldn't declare you friend for saving my life until after the first thing was taken care of," Bokuto continues. "Okay, maybe I panicked, but it was a stupid little fight and I didn't want you to get into trouble."

Stupid little fight, right. If that's what he wants to label it, sure.

"And okay, they're probably going to be mad at me for awhile, but that's okay too! It won't come down on you, promise. They probably won't let me declare friends or mates again, but… at least I got Akaashi, and you, but I kinda wanted to see if they'd let me declare a demon…"

Kuro's going to be disappointed, Kenma thinks, disappointed himself in a way that's confusing to think about. It shouldn't stop them from messing around, but it seems unfair that Kuro is the one left out when there had been such immediate chemistry between them.

"And I'm not a mind reader!" Bokuto bursts out in a frustrated huff. He kicks his legs against the bed, turns onto his side, and curls around Kenma's back. Kenma freezes. "You're gonna have to talk with me if they're not letting us out until we talk it out. Am I really so bad to talk to?"

"Um, no. I'm just… not good at that."

"Talking?" Bokuto asks incredulously.

"Yes." Talking, being near people, having their attention on him. Kenma is a ball of magic and social anxiety, and he doesn't even have the magic right now.

"You talk with Kuroo," he grumbles, and burrows deeper into Kenma's waist. "Are you mad at me for what I did?"

"…Which time?"

"I don't know much about how humans did it, but you're supposed to be happy to be with someone, right? Mates or marriage or whatever. Do you even like me? I mean, I can understand why you wouldn't, I don't even like me half the time, and I'm sure Keiji just puts up with me—"

Kenma puts a hand on Bokuto's trembling shoulder, and he halts like it's a switch. He cranes his neck around to look up at Kenma, his eyes dry and clear but expression something fragile, and Kenma realizes he doesn't know what to do now that he's gotten this far.

Bokuto has no issue filling the silence. Kenma is, on some level, grateful. "You get like that too, don't you. Except you push it all inside but I push mine out. And you have Kuroo and I have Keiji and they're probably too good for us, but honestly I don't mind spending time with you or Kuroo either, and, like, you're both pretty cool considering you're not tengu."

Kenma snorts before he can help himself. Bokuto looks up at him, so he forces out, "You're pretty cool considering you are a tengu. Sometimes."

"I'm a tengu all the time!" Bokuto squawks.

And Kenma sighs. "That's why you're only cool part of the time."

Bokuto settles back into the bed, this time with his eyes half-closed, lips halfway curled into something pleased and sated. Kenma arches an eyebrow. "You smiled. A little. How can you be so cute for a human?"

"How can you be so shameless for a tengu," Kenma shoots back and turns from him. His face feels hot, too hot to just be the fever anymore. He doesn't think Akaashi is coming back, but a cold cloth would have been nice. It's not like he can make one himself right now.

But then again, he's not stuck alone in here.

He isn't sure what to use, since they don't have pillowcases and he's not wearing enough to give up anything, but Bokuto sits back up when he notices him searching. "What do you need?"

"Um. A small cloth or something. And a cooling spell."

Bokuto catches on immediately, and gets up to rummage about the room. He comes back soon with a folded headband, already coated in frost, and proudly holds it out. It borders on too cold, but Kenma presses it against his forehead with a relieved sigh. Kenma then rubs his cheeks and neck with it so he can keep an eye on Bokuto while he settles back into the bed.

He's even closer this time, and Kenma quashes the fear that he'd viewed this as some sort of trade—he doesn't work like that, or at the very least he would've asked about it—but somehow, it's Kenma who ends up on top. Bokuto presses him down until his head is pillowed on his feathery lap, and Kenma keeps the cloth tight over his face so he doesn't have to look up to see what kind of expression he's making.

Bokuto is stronger than he'd thought. It doesn't fill him with fear, so much as interest.

"Thank you," he mumbles awkwardly.

"If you're not so good at talking, you can nap until they let us out. I can talk for us? Or maybe I'll nap too because honestly fighting a stupid fucking archangel first thing in the morning is pretty exhausting," he says, and punctuates it with a loud yawn. Kenma thinks it might've been for show.

But a nap sounds alright, if he can calm himself down enough to do so. Racing thoughts of mate and tengu healers and unfair to Kuro and Akaashi and black blood still drag at his mind. Why does Bokuto think he can sort out them at the drop of a hat when he hasn't sorted out any other part of his stupid messy life for months now?

Ever since the blood had gotten spilled into the circle, actually.

Kenma's thoughts just about carry him away again, not into sleep but perhaps into a lull, cool cloth gently covering his eyes and forehead, but he's interrupted by Bokuto folding himself over to lean down enough to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

Kenma's palm catches the bottom of his chin, and Bokuto's teeth click together before he reels back with a whine. Kenma bolts up, eyes narrowed, cloth falling by the wayside; Bokuto nurses a bloody tongue behind the claws clenched at his mouth.

It's still Bokuto who speaks first, hasty and sincere, "S-Sorry! That wasn't—Kuroo told me you can kiss people goodnight, and you were going to sleep, so—I just want things to be okay but I keep fucking up and I don't know how to do human things for you!"

Kenma scoots away until he's no longer by Bokuto's lap, but takes the cold cloth and presses it to Bokuto's mouth. He won't meet his eyes, but he tells him, "You're not human, so don't try for my sake. You're kind of bad at it. …You can kiss someone goodnight, but it's usually not on the mouth."

"Where, then?"

"Forehead, I guess?"

"Why?" Bokuto asks, nose wrinkled above his hands.

"It's tender," Kenma replies. He'd never given much thought to forehead kisses before. "You've kissed others on the cheek, so you know it's not all about the mouth. I don't know what else to tell you. But use Kuro for your practice, not me."

"You're the one going to sleep." Bokuto holds out the cloth, now dotted with scarlet, like a peace offering. Kenma folds it over so the clean side rests against his warm skin again, and he can see the fresh frost on it. "I won't do it anymore. I just don't want you to stay mad at me forever," Bokuto tells him.

Kenma buries his face in the cold fabric. "…I'm not mad, and I don't want to be mad at you. I just don't like that kind of stuff. I don't like surprises." Then, quieter, feeling embarrassment crawling up the back of his neck, he adds, "Kuro asks before."

"Will you rest and can I kiss you goodnight without you hitting me?"

Okay, now he just feels guilty. Kenma moves the cloth, covering his mouth and nose, and squints at the horribly earnest tengu across from him. "…I'll be next to you," he stresses, and curls into a little ball with his back to Bokuto's legs.

He feels the lightest of brushes against his temple from Bokuto's lips. Kenma does not lash out this time.

Ten minutes later finds Kenma with Bokuto wrapped around him, snoring against his hair, and with the witch staring up at the ceiling wondering how he ever thought this particular person capable of any sort of maliciousness. He's not happy about this, but he's less uncomfortable, and that brings its own kind of satisfaction in turn.

-.-.-

"So, married, huh," Kuro says loudly. Akaashi, in the kitchen, pretends not to have heard. Again. "Is this going to be something that makes everything worse? Because I'm on Kenma's side no matter what, but I really don't want to freak out and leave you two again. That was a good thing, right? The marriage thing?"

"Depends how their talk will go," Akaashi replies when they reappear with two steaming mugs of tea. They hand one off to Kuro and he holds it just so he'll stop fidgeting with his hands. "If this doesn't work out for the better, I'm going to have strong words for Sugawara."

"Well, I trust him. Probably."

"Hm," Akaashi grunts and sips at their tea.

Kuro drums his nails—too long and still dark like they're painted—against his mug nervously. "Just to be clear," he says, and Akaashi looks up at him, "I like you both. You're good people—great—and. Uh. Yeah. I like you, right?"

"Right," Akaashi replies warily.

"But I gotta be on Kenma's side, no matter how this turns out. Even if I push him to play nice and realize that you two aren't going to eat him, if he's out of here, so am I. And that could take awhile. It took forever for him to believe that I didn't want to eat him."

Akaashi studies the mug in front of them, eyes lowered once more, and Kuro, in turn, studies the fan of their long lashes against their cheeks. "Do you?"

"Hm?"

"Do you have to be on his side?"

Kuro sets his mug down on the little table in front of him. "Even if I wasn't contracted to him, I love Kenma. And he loves me." Akaashi makes a rather rudely noncommittal noise at that, and Kuro frowns.

"Sorry. It's just been a day," they say, and Kuro nods, though now he's the one feeling a touch wary. "For the record, I'm not as jealous of the mate issue as you likely believe. I'm glad you're all safe, and I'm exasperated Koutarou had to come up with such a method of protecting Kenma, and I'm frustrated that I didn't realize where he had gone. It's… a lot."

"Oh. Well… I can't do much for Bo's sneaking out habits, but we kept him as in one piece as we could, considering the whole archangel thing."

Akaashi slops hot tea down their front.

"Shit—you okay?" Kuro asks in alarm as Akaashi hisses and quickly sets down their tea. They nod, tight-faced, and strip off their shirt to mop up the rest of the tea with.

"A day," Akaashi repeats in little more than a groan. Kuro nods, agreeing, but also unabashedly staring. If Akaashi notices, they don't comment. "What. Do you mean.Archangel."

"I think Bo and Kenma should be here for this part—"

"Tetsurou," Akaashi interrupts. Kuro, even as unused to the name as he is, can't suppress the shiver that goes up his spine. Alright, maybe not the best idea to piss off the stressed tengu.

"Soooo. We saved Bo from an archangel. You're welcome?"

"Why is there an archangel."

"For that, you're really better off asking Kiyoko, but before you do that, I should probably come clean about going to visit her to try to scare her into keeping the archangel away from now on."

Akaashi merely stares at him, expression unreadable but eyes uncharacteristically wide.

"So," Kuro says, fidgeting once more, "that was a thing. Kenma's going to be pissed, so there's your warning for that. But I think Kiyoko will help keep Yui away from us now, so we shouldn't have any more run-ins with her. Bo included."

Akaashi, with a heavy, whiny sigh, hunches forward to put their elbows on their knees and massage their temples. "Why. Why did Koutarou choose the two largest trouble magnets in the human realm?"

"Don't pretend like you're not horribly attached to us, too," Kuro coos, mostly to break the mood.

The reaction he gets isn't what he expects: Akaashi's expression further sours, but there's an interesting splash of pink across their cheeks accompanying that. "You could be worse," Akaashi deadpans, and Kuro blinks at him. "Koutarou could have tried to adopt Sugawara or Oikawa instead."

Kuro snorts back an unflattering laugh. "That's mean, Akaashi!" he exclaims with nothing less than utter delight.

"You haven't brought a memetic infection or a skinwalker thief to us yet."

"Just an archangel and a surly witch."

"I'll forgive the surly witch since we're now, technically speaking, related. The archangel, on the other hand…"

"Ask Kenma about it," Kuro tells them. "He knows more, and he knows what exactly he did to her, too. It looked nasty, and it almost killed him."

"And, by extension, you," Akaashi points out. Kuro shrugs. That still comes weirdly secondary to him. "You have a very strange relationship with Kenma from an outsider's perspective, contracted or not."

"I told you," Kuro replies, with an easy smile, "we just love each other."

Akaashi picks up their half-empty mug and echoes the smile with downcast eyes. "I know the feeling. But it doesn't mean any of you are exempt from the repeated what the fucks you will get after I'm sure none of you will expire on the spot."

-.-.-

"S-Suga," Daichi stutters, freezing in place, "what the hell is that." He pushes his glasses up onto his hair to rub at his eyes in disbelief.

"Mothmen!" Suga exclaims brightly. Of course they are. The trio of bright-eyed, waist-high creatures shuffle closer to the flashlight on Suga's phone, largely ignoring Daichi's presence. "I think they're lost, but they're friendly enough. They probably don't see many people out here, huh?"

A: Mothmen are real. B: Suga is playing magical Snow White again. C: Suga is outside in the snow in his pajamas, which don't even include pants, though he at least put on his boots.

"What do they need?" Daichi asks, half-suspicious they're going to begin gnawing on something.

"Little scarves and maps," Suga replies. It takes Daichi a moment to realize he's being sarcastic. "I've never seen a live one before, but they're probably just grounded for the night." With a gesture and a murmur, Suga creates a small orb of light over his palm, and they shuffle closer to the magic in it rather than his phone. It disintegrates when one of them reaches out, hesitantly, to touch it.

The three squeal and disappear in a flutter of soft wings and whispers. Suga stands, shivering but smiling, and he steps back to let Daichi envelop him in his arms. He feels like an icicle. Daichi presses a warm kiss to the side of his neck, and he leans into the attention with a pleased hum.

"So work just follows you no matter what, hm?" Daichi asks as they head back inside. Suga parks himself in front of the fireplace, and Daichi tugs a blanket from the chair over both of them. He sort of wished he'd had the foresight to bring marshmallows.

"That wasn't work. Believe it or not, I'm only the shepherd for particular lost souls, not the whole of the supernatural community," Suga informs him, and sometimes, Daichidoesn't believe it.

"Lost souls, huh."

"Yes sir."

"Wayward ghosts and absolutely nothing else." Suga glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and Daichi can hardly restrain his smirk. "Nothing like sigbin, or matagot, or demons, and definitely nothing like ancient gods."

"Well," Suga huffs, "you do what you can, right? Like hell I'm leaving Kiyoko alone in this, or letting Oikawa get in over his head with every other thing. But it's mostly ghosts and the occasional poltergeist."

"That's—you take care of poltergeists? Those are real?"

"Yes, of course? I just took care of one with Tadashi," Suga replies with clear confusion. Daichi pinches the furrow of his brow. "They're annoying, but not difficult. Why, do you have a haunting?"

Daichi doesn't answer, and Suga slowly raises both eyebrows.

"You have a poltergeist?"

"We have what we tell tourists is a poltergeist. Or, Haruna does. It's bullshit, but it's less funny if they're actually real things…" And now, Daichi remembers when Chikara had politely informed him about the little girl haunting one of their cabins, back in high school, and that had helped spurred his cousin into taking the rumor and spinning it into something horror movie worthy.

God, he'd probably been right.

It hadn't really been a true issue or anything, just the occasional spooked tourist or vacationer, and he thinks one cracked window a year or two ago. But if there is something in that cabin… Well, Daichi is dating an exorcist, who is right here. It seems a waste of an opportunity, even if he'd rather eat his fist than make Suga work.

"I can take a look," Suga says, placing a hand on his forearm, like he'd been reading his mind.

Maybe the overthinking thing went both ways.

"It's probably nothing. You probably get loads of rumors hyped up to draw in people, right?"

Suga smiles, shrugs, and rests his head against Daichi's shoulder. "Not as many as you'd think. But we also know how to weed that kind of stuff out."

"I guess you do work for a psychic."

"Two," Suga corrects in a chirp. "So, want me to take care of it? I'll have to put on pants again."

"We can do it tomorrow."

"I'll be awake for awhile longer. Which cabin is it?"

Daichi sighs and supposes he'll be awake for awhile longer, too.

It's two cabins from them, and, bundled up properly, they trudge out into the night. The stars are bright, the moon a sliver hanging in the black sky, and this far out, there's not many tracks to disturb the snow. It's not too deep, but the crust isn't thick enough to support them, so each step is a hassle. Daichi is surprised at Suga's sense of adventure when the temperature is below freezing.

"This is one of the cabins without running water," Daichi says when it gets close enough to shine his flashlight on. "We usually don't use it, so it's probably pretty dusty. I, uh, also don't have the key for it—"

"I can unlock a wood door," Suga wryly interrupts. They make their way up to the little porch, and Daichi holds his light on the door while Suga wedges his underneath an arm so he can draw on the snow stuck to it. It opens with a click and a grin from Suga.

They kick the snow off their boots, and shine their flashlights inside the empty, dark cabin. It's similar in design to the others, although the bed hasn't been made, and there's a fine layer of dust over most of it. Suga's light trails over the bookshelves, the counters, and eventually comes to stop at the foot of the bed.

Daichi, of course, can't see a thing, save for the motes of dust swirling in the beam.

"Well, it's definitely a haunting," Suga says without any of the smugness Daichi expects. He sounds… a little sad. Daichi gives him a sidelong glance; Suga is frowning, faintly, something faintly shuttered in his expression. He catches Daichi's eye, blinking back into an open, neutral expression, and says, "Oh, right, you can't see her. …Do you wantto?"

"Want to see it?" Daichi echoes dumbly. Suga nods, and then starts digging around in his messenger bag. Of course.

He pulls out a tiny, dark vial with an eyedropper as a lid, and Suga must see some sort of hesitance on Daichi's face, because he explains, "This is spirit sight draught. I took to carrying around this little thing because of Tadashi, just in case. Well, I guess he doesn't need it anymore… But useful for you!"

"Is this the stuff that had all those bad side effects?"

"That was because of continued use," Suga smoothly replies. "Here, lean back and take off your glasses. And don't worry—you're pretty lucky yourself, you know." He grins again, recovered now, and guides Daichi down far enough for him.

Don't make getting lucky jokes, Daichi preemptively scolds himself. The eye drops don't sting, but tingle slightly in an honestly pretty worrying way; he can't help but rub at his eyes when Suga lets him right himself, and he finds himself blinking down at a little girl standing at the foot of the bed.

She doesn't look like how he expected a ghost to look. She's dressed in worn jeans and a tank top, one strap falling down off her shoulder as she glares balefully up at them both. Her hair is long, but unkempt, and there are what he thinks are tear-tracks down her cheeks.

Suga presses a hand against Daichi's chest, and he backs up a couple steps to let him work. When Suga approaches her, he crouches down, eye-level with her; his voice is soft and his hand is extended when he says, "Hello, what are you doing here?"

The little girl promptly melts into a figure of static and tentacles.

She lets out a screech that has both men reeling, and she slithers between Suga's legs to dive into a book on the lowest shelf of the bookcase. Daichi expects her to go through, but it's as if it bounces her back out, and she scrabbles at it with too many limbs while Suga swears and digs around in his bag.

"Well shit, congrats, you have a poltergeist," Suga says in a near-shout in order to be heard over her crying. "Or something close enough."

"What's the difference?" Daichi calls back, one hand pressed to his nearer ear.

"Poltergeists have to be caught or banished—" Suga's voice rings out too loud in the sudden silence. They turn to find the little girl back again, sitting in front of the bookcase, miserably weeping. She scrubs her cheeks and tries to hide her face from them with her long hair. Suga sighs and slowly withdraws his hand from his messenger bag. "Alright, she's not a full poltergeist. She's… on the road to becoming one."

"What does that mean?"

"This is what happens to ghosts who don't pass on. This, or demons." Suga approaches her again, and she hunches her shoulders, but does not begin screeching again. "Hello," he tries once more. "Is this your book?"

He reaches out and pulls the book she'd been trying to hide in from the shelf. She twitches, just a little, when he first touches it. When he hands it to her, it's only in her lap for a split second before it falls through to the floor. She starts to cry immediately, and the noise winds up into an outright wail when she dissolves into static once more.

Suga backs away from her, wincing at the volume, and Daichi can't hear the charm when he begins writing in the air. He reaches over and places a hand on either side of Daichi's face; instantly, the room falls silent.

The next gesture he makes doesn't look like his usual marks; he realizes, belatedly, that he's using sign language. Daichi knows about three words, and none of that is whatever Suga is trying to tell him. The blank stare Daichi gives him must be enough for him to drop it after a few more hopeful moments.

It's incredibly surreal to watch Suga cast and speak to the ghost/poltergeist without hearing a sound. It doesn't take him long to put her in a confinement circle, and he begins talking to her again with a surprisingly professional air. Daichi wishes he could hear, shrieking or not, and by the time the little girl seems to calm down, Daichi can hear muffled noises again.

She stands with the first smile Daichi has seen from her, and Suga smiles back at her, more tired than usual.

Then, something happens—Daichi sure as hell isn't sure. There's a snap of something in the air, the little girl jumps, and Daichi can abruptly hear again. Suga isn't fazed. "What the hell was that?" Daichi asks, and Suga raises an eyebrow at him.

He looks between the girl and his boyfriend a couple times, then at a spot on their other side that Daichi can't see anything in. "Oh, you can't see this," Suga says distantly. The little girl stares at the empty spot, book forgotten by her feet. "Alright," Suga says, addressing her, "I'm going to lower the circle, but I need you to go through. You have to leave your attachments behind."

"Uh-huh," she replies, the first coherent thing Daichi has heard from her. Her voice is hoarse, breathy.

The circle of glowing runes fades to nothing, and hardly a heartbeat passes before she erupts into scratchiness and haze once more. She flings herself at Suga, and he begins to take a step back, but she knocks him against the empty spot and he stumbles.

When he makes contact with it, Daichi can see it: a large door, brilliantly bright and ornate in a cute, flowery way, and Suga sags against the open door frame like he's just stared death in the face.

"It's mine!" the spirit screams and scoops up the book. She lashes out at Suga, catching him across the arms, shoulders, chest, trying to force him back through the doorway. He takes one step back to catch himself, and his ankle brushes against the light coming from within the door.

He yelps and throws himself forward, hitting the floor and ducking under her attacks. With what must be a pull spell, he yanks her many feet out from beneath her, and grabs the nearest limb to him.

Suga rolls onto his back, throws her over his head toward the doorway, and she grows too many more arms to try to claw her way back. Her screams have taken the form of words, again—"It hurts, it hurts, it's not mine, don't make me, I want to stay here!"—and Daichi feels sick.

"Pass on!" Suga shouts, desperate, and with one last kick, he shoves her through the door.

Both she and it vanish with a flash of light.

Daichi rubs the spots out of his eyes and Suga's chest heaves from where he lies, sprawled, on the wood floor.

"Could I have helped," Daichi starts with.

Suga throws his cast arm over his face to hide, and it is then that Daichi catches how erratic his breathing is. "No," Suga tells him in a voice very near tears. Daichi shuffles over to sit beside him, too careful not to crowd his space, and rests his hand on Suga's shoulder. "That was… O-Okay, a lot of time, spirits don't really want to pass on. That was a Door."

Daichi hears the inflection and a few things click into place in his mind.

"Only human ghosts create Doors, and nothing can go through one that isn't that person. Everyone gets their own," Suga explains through shuddering breaths.

So Suga's stumble had been a brush with death. Daichi's hand tightens on his shoulder, then he retracts it, instead reaching over to gently pull Suga's arm away from his face. Suga turns from him, eyes screwed shut, and Daichi rubs his thumb over Suga's, up to the edge of the cast and back down again. "You're okay," Daichi tells him even though he feels like he may need a moment to process that. How does Suga deal with that constant kind of risk?

"No," Suga says with an abortive little shake of his head. He glares with wet eyes at the book laying forgotten on the floor. "She wasn't… I don't know if she was really a ghost anymore, Daichi. She was turning into a poltergeist, yes, but… who knows."

"Poltergeists can't pass on?"

"No. You have to capture or banish poltergeists."

It only then occurs to Daichi that Suga makes a living getting rid of talking, sentient beings, not all of which have happy endings. His earlier image of it had been similar to him talking to the little girl in the circle; monsters like sigbin or dragons are outliers. There'd been a divide in his mind. He hadn't thought the monsters would look human. Would have been human.

"Did that count as a banishing?" Daichi asks.

"Depends on whether or not she was a ghost. I hadn't thought she'd try to fight me like that." Suga sniffs, snottily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to see it like that. Things get messy if they're in between forms. …We try not to use Doors to kill things often, either."

"Are you okay?"

Suga only sighs. "Not really. Would you believe me if I said my job usually isn't this rough?"

"I'd give you the benefit of the doubt," Daichi replies vaguely, because no, not really. But there has to be good days, right? He'd always assumed Suga took some sort of pride in guiding lost souls into the afterlife like a shepherd. That it'd be like graduation, bittersweet but usually a step of good progress.

He supposes not everyone wants to graduate.

"You tried to banish Tsukishima at one point, didn't you?"

"Like he'd let me forget that."

"Suga," Daichi says with his own sigh, "why do you even have this job if you hate it so much?"

Suga bolts upright so fast he nearly headbutts Daichi. "I love my job!" he exclaims with inappropriate force. Daichi arches an eyebrow. "Okay, you're getting a really shitty look into a very specific part of it, I'll admit."

"As long as you admit it," he replies, still incredulous.

"But magic is really cool, Daichi," Suga firmly continues. His good hand finds Daichi's, and he gives him a squeeze. "I'd sooner eat this cast than let you have some sort of negative view about magic. I may not like the rougher parts of my job, but what job doesn't come with shitty customers?"

As a retail worker, Daichi can not argue against that.

"More importantly, I'm happy to help keep people safe."

With that familiar, determined glint back in his eyes, Suga clambers to his feet. While Daichi gets back up, too, he wipes his face with his sleeve, and Daichi pretends not to notice. Suga does one last once-over of the cabin, tries to carve a couple of wards into the wood of the door frame—Daichi puts a quick stop to that, even if it could prevent future poltergeists—and they trek back out into the cold night.

Suga may be dry-eyed and upright once more, but he's still suspiciously quiet. Too serious. Daichi is used to teasing, to smirks and grins and the crinkle of happy eyes. He's afraid of Suga slipping off into some other mental spiral, one consumed with work in a wholly different way; how can he head this one off?

The idea comes to him all too quick.

"Let's go for a walk," Daichi says and loops his arm together with Suga's. Suga only gives him a curious look. "Twenty minutes, tops. I promise you can warm up when we're done."

It's an obvious bait, but it takes a moment too long before Suga forces a grin and asks, "Will you warm me up? Do I get to choose the method?"

"Trust me," Daichi replies, grinning himself, and Suga nods because he does.

The snow crunches beneath their boots, but even with a clear night, it's quite dark. The waxing moon is only half full, and the trees lining the road block most of its weak light. They don't see any more mothmen, and Daichi talks Suga into not using the flashlight halfway there to let their eyes adjust. When Suga catches on that they're headed to the main office, his nose scrunches and he peers at Daichi in judgment.

But he doesn't question him.

"I know a perk of your job is breaking and entering," Daichi says with a gesture to the front door, although he knows where the spare key is.

"That's a perk?" Suga asks. He writes against the handle, and it clicks open. His judgmental look is beginning to slip into something dangerously close to disappointment. "I already looked, there's no tubs here. So if I get to choose how you warm me back up, you're running out of options."

Daichi rummages around behind the desk until he finds the switches underneath the counter. He turns on the two he needs, gestures for Suga to stay put, and heads into the back room to grab some towels. Suga's eyes narrow further when Daichi just tugs him outside once more.

Another building is nestled into the trees not fifty yards behind the lodge, even if the path is covered in snow that hasn't been shoveled. Daichi keeps his arm in Suga's despite his suspicion behind the fluffy towels. Suga unlocks the door again (Daichi knows there is no spare key to this one), and he promptly lights up at what he sees inside.

"I know it's not a bathtub," Daichi begins, perhaps a touch smugly.

Suga punches him a little too hard in the side. "You didn't tell me there was a hot tub!" he hisses, too pleased to put much venom into it, and they quickly shut the door to keep the growing warmth inside. It's designed more like a sauna than a hot tub, with wooden benches all around the sunken tub in the center, and two walls looking out toward the forest are glass. Suga can hardly contain his excitement as he struggles to pull the cover off by himself.

Daichi helps him, and by the time they fight to get it off and reasonably out of the way, the water has started to warm. There's a little light inside that he turns on, and the room is bathed in soft, waving sparkles. It's nearly enough to rival Suga's palpable excitement.

"Can you get that wet?" Daichi asks, pausing for the first time, eyes on Suga's cast.

"Yes, it's fine. Would you really have the heart to tell me no at this point?"

"Probably not," he admits, and Suga beams at him.

"I can't believe we could've been doing this the entire time instead of freezing in that little cabin," Suga says as he begins tugging off his boots.

"You've been fine in the cabin—"

"Daichi, I'm never going to move from this room again."

Daichi rolls his eye with a too-fond huff. Suga almost literally trips over himself pulling off his shoes and socks, and his coat is quickly tossed onto one of the farther benches. Daichi, at least, tries to undress a little less sloppily.

By the time he's pulling off his undershirt, Suga is fighting to peel his jeans off, and Daichi pauses with perhaps a bit too much staring. "You're skinny dipping? In a hot tub. That's inside."

"I'm sorry, I didn't bring a swimsuit on my vacation to a cabin in December."

"I thought we'd leave underwear on?" Daichi asks with an awkward, now self-conscious, shrug.

Suga stares at him for a long moment, slowly breaking into another, definitely teasing grin. "Are you shy?"

"No, that's not it—"

"Excuse me if I don't want to walk back commando in the dark and cold."

"Couldn't you… dry them, or something? With magic?"

Suga finishes pulling off his jeans and briefs with far too much smugness. Daichi makes a point of looking only at his face, despite the immediate strutting. "I could," Suga nearly purrs, because he's horrible, "but honestly, I'm pretty exhausted. I don't think anyone would be happy if I passed out tonight. Or did you want to carry me back to the cabin that badly?"

"Alright, fair." Daichi hadn't exactly meant for this to take a sexual turn, but if that keeps Suga happy, far be it from him to decline. Suga, with too much swaying of his hips as he circles around to Daichi, has the gall to stick his (cold) fingers beneath the waistband of Daichi's boxers and tug. Helpfully. He's just that kind of a person, Daichi is sure.

Daichi steps out of his boxers once they're pooled around his ankles, takes his foggy glasses off, and Suga is already gone from him, stepping into the hot water with a frankly obscene sigh.

There'd been no ogling, no touching, not even a kiss. Daichi sighs as well and wonders if he should be disappointed or not.

Daichi slips into the water beside him, definitely disappointed that it's not truly hot yet, and Suga is already submerged up to his chin with with most placid expression Daichi has ever seen on his face. Hard to believe forty-five minutes ago he'd been crying about a dead girl; every line of tension is gone from him, every hint of prior sorrow.

Daichi sinks into the warm water and wonders if maybe he should have been more upset earlier. The last thing he wants is for Suga to think him callous.

The whole Suga Almost Died In Front Of Him thing hadn't sunk in quite yet, he thinks. That'll be some fun new nightmare fodder.

"I can hear you thinking all the way over there," Suga says and prods him with his toe. "You don't want to sit over here and get cozy?"

"Am I allowed?" Daichi quips before he can stop himself.

Suga opens an eye, cinnamon and gold in the sparkling light of the underwater bulb. "I mean this without my usual amount of bitterness—I understand if you don't want to get too close to a necromancer who just banished a little girl."

Daichi scoots over and Suga immediately lifts his arm for Daichi to tuck himself under. The wet cast is scratchy against Daichi's bare skin. "For someone so open, you're pretty hard to read most of the time."

Suga snorts. "You're one to talk. Do you know how often I've laid awake at night, wondering how to interact with normal people again? Stalking the bookstore had been utter hell for a week or two."

"I can't believe you can even manage to stay awake long enough to agonize," Daichi deadpans.

Suga makes an affronted noise and hits him, entirely too gently, with his cast. (Sometimes, Daichi almost wonders if he likes having it, just so he has a weapon at the ready. Not that Suga needs more melee weapons at his disposal.)

"Why am I hard to read?" Suga asks, even more gently now.

"You're a constant, confusing tease," is all Daichi replies with.

They fall into an easy silence; the only sound is the muted lapping of the water at the edge, equally soft light glimmering near their outstretched legs. It creates patterns on the walls and through the windows out onto the snow, through the steam that's beginning to build at the edge of the glass. Daichi can hear Suga's slow, steady heartbeat like this, pressed against him, quiet surrounding them.

It's too calm to be called truly romantic, but it's comfortable, peaceful—something neither of them have had much of on this trip so far. Between their mutilated sleep schedules, too much family, and now, supernatural intrusions, quiet moments on what was supposed to be a quiet vacation are fewer and farther between than Daichi would have wanted.

Suga taps him on the shoulder, and Daichi raises his head, wondering if Suga has just now spotted the skylight through which they can see the stars twinkling overhead.

But instead, Suga curls both arms around him, his other hand coming up to tilt Daichi's head enough so Suga can rest his forehead against Daichi's. "Do you want me to stop being a tease?"

"And what do you mean by that?" Daichi frankly responds.

Suga lowers his eyes, just a moment, but it's a glance down to Daichi's lips that he certainly notices. Still, Daichi won't be the one to bridge this gap. When Suga meets his gaze once more, he breaks into a grin. "You know what sounds like a wonderful post-banishment exercise?"

"What does?" Daichi does not trust that grin, but he's excited to see where it leads.

Suga closes the slight distance between them and presses their mouths together. The angle is good, lips slotting together effortlessly, but Daichi is lower in the water than he'd like. Suga lets him change their positions, lets him take control of the kiss in order to guide their moments, seems perfectly content to let Daichi do all of the thinking in this situation.

Daichi pulls Suga toward him, shifting them until he can tug Suga onto his lap, and Suga rests his arms over Daichi's shoulders as his knees knock lightly against the edge of the tub. They hardly break for anything other than air, and even that, Suga chases Daichi's mouth like he's the only source of oxygen on the planet.

Daichi begins to wonder if Suga legitimately doesn't need to breathe as much as a normal (living) human when he hears a splash that is definitely not from either of them.

Daichi startles at seeing something in the water, Suga twists without warning to investigate, and they both end up slipping and going under. Coughing and spluttering, they bob back up immediately, and Suga presses his hands to his cheeks with a soft hiss of, "Hot."

"What the fuck is that," Daichi asks, pressed into the corner furthest from the little thing happily paddling around in the water.

"Oh, you can see that now," Suga hums, thoughtful, and moves to slide back onto Daichi's lap. Daichi allows him, hands settling naturally on Suga's waist, but he leans around him in order to keep a suspicious eye on their guest until Suga does whatever he's going to do to get rid of it.

But Suga only latches onto the exposed part of Daichi's neck, and that would be the Greatest Development Of All Time if they were actually fucking alone in here.

"Suga," Daichi tries to admonish, but it comes out a little strangled instead. He tries again. "Suga, what the fuck is that thing, and why is it—god, Suga—please take care of the bug thing in the water with us before doing this."

Suga leans back, a pout already forming, but something calculating in his eyes as well. "Was your neck always this sensitive?"

Daichi can feel heat crawl up that very same neck. "I-I guess?" He knows it is.

"We could have been doing this for ages—"

"Suga it is about to touch you," Daichi interrupts in a panic.

Suga gives him an eye roll that's insulting, honestly, and twists again on Daichi's lap in order to scoop up the intruder with his good hand. It's a little too big, but it seems content to be picked up, made lazy by the hot water and steam. Humanoid, with two sets of translucent wings like a dragonfly's, and Daichi is pretty sure he sees antenna, too.

"This," Suga patiently tells him, "is a water sprite. If that lake nearby is frozen, it was probably drawn in here by the fact that this is, y'know, actually water. They're very common, and good for water sources. Harmless to humans alone."

"It's so cold out there," the water sprite squeaks, and Daichi definitely does not jump at the revelation that the thing can talk. "I didn't know humans had giant hot baths like this in this area!"

"You're intruding," Suga informs it. He dumps it on the outside of the tub, despite its shrill protest.

"Why were you content to let it stay there?" Daichi asks, equally reproachful, and Suga pouts at him again.

"I own a cat, Daichi. I've learned to live with a constant voyeur into my life."

"You wouldn't have said anything if I couldn't see it," Daichi says suspiciously, and Suga does not answer him. He leans down to try to nibble at the side of Daichi's throat again, but Daichi is faster, and stops him with a fist in his hair. "Suga."

"A lot of things exist where you can't see them, or where even I can't see them," Suga sighs, relents, and droops. The sprite manages to crawl back over the edge of the tub, wings buzzing in a heat-drunken stupor, and it slides back in with a wet plop. "I don't really want to banish it, but I could. They're also not that hard to kill."

The sprite splashes away from them, glaring its tiny, beady eyes, but not willing to leave the water.

"…You deal with this stuff on a daily basis," Daichi grumbles.

"I've had practice. I'm also trying to keep my mind focused on other things rather than the constant supernatural phenomena going on around us." Suga slides off of his thighs, ducks under the surface of the water once more, and resurfaces on the other edge of the hot tub. He crosses one long leg over the other. "Ignorance is bliss, huh?"

Daichi flicks water at the sprite for ruining what little mood there had been. But, at least, Suga is still smiling.

-.-.-

"Hold still," Wakatoshi nearly growls, and Tendou continues squirming in his grasp regardless of the shiver that goes up his spine at the sound. He's not even sure if it's a good shiver or not.

"It itches," he complains. Loudly. "You suck at healing. Blood magic isn't even supposed to work for that!"

"You're pretty whiny for someone with a head wound," Shirabu says, somewhere off behind Wakatoshi. Probably reclining on the bed, tapping his hooves impatiently or something.

"Please stay still," Wakatoshi tries again, voice still deep and scary, but there's a curious thread of raw desperation Tendou can hear.

Tendou's tail whaps against the crate he's sitting on. He is, actually, trying to stay still. He just can't. He's not really used to having someone hold him like this, and the injuryfucking hurts, even after so long, but he has too much pride to admit that he's not doing this on purpose.

Wakatoshi presses his thumb against the entry wound and Tendou barely bites back a howl. He digs his nails into his pants, through the fabric and into his legs, but at least that makes him think of something other than his fucking skull for two seconds.

But it's that that finally forces Wakatoshi to take a break. His hands fall from Tendou's face and Tendou rears back, chest heaving and stomach churning from who even knows what anymore. He shakes his head, trying to get it to stop hurting, even if he knows that it's futile. He's probably just undoing all of the witch's hard work. Vorpium burns are a bitch and a half, and Tendou can safely say he'd never wanted to get shot in the head, either.

If he were of better mind right now, he'd be wishing bloody revenge upon everyone involved in that terrible trickster job.

Right now, he just wants it to stop hurting.

"Stop that," Wakatoshi says and Tendou, holding his head, gives him a watery-eyed glare. "You're just going to reopen everything."

"Just knock him out," Shirabu calls from the bed.

"He shouldn't go to sleep," Wakatoshi replies without glancing in his direction. He meets Tendou's eyes without any of the hesitance or fear he should be feeling considering he's been rooting around in his head with blood magic and Tendou has come very close to eating him several times for it and neither of them have slept for going on forty hours now. Tempers are understandably short.

Tendou will live. Probably. It didn't immediately kill him, so that's a good sign, although he's never dealt with fucking vorpium before, so who knows what that's doing. Probably rotting out his skull right now. Tendou's probably dying and if dying hurts this much then he'd rather just get it over with. But really, he's going to live. He hasn't sat reasonably still for this much magical prodding for nothing.

"Please," Wakatoshi repeats, hand extended.

Tendou sits back down with an angry swipe of his tail. Wakatoshi cups his face again, holding his head still, not gently but at least maybe not as roughly as before. Tendou hisses and growls and trembles as Wakatoshi presses his fingers lightly against the matted hair near the exit wound. He probably would've been done bleeding if Wakatoshi wasn't so set on trying to fix things.

Tendou isn't sure why he's bothering.

He's far from a good patient, and would be at the very least capable of acting as a transport should Wakatoshi want him to stick around for the rest of the job. (Tendou, privately, would much rather fuck back to Europe and wash his hands of this entire business. It's a lot more real when his own head is literally on the line.) Northot had teased him for being too attached, but what does that say of Wakatoshi? He's not stupid enough to be truly fearless.

Tendou wants him to be attached, too. It'd make struggling to sit still for this a little more palatable. He bites back another snarl and cracks the wood of the crate with his hands, and Wakatoshi draws back with another frown and furrow in his brow. "We can get a healer," he suggests, tired.

"If I've spilt blood for this job, I'm not giving up anything for it."

"I can pay for someone discreet—"

"Don't waste your money," Tendou grouses and releases the splintered wood in his grasp. Wakatoshi glances down at it, and Tendou shakes out his hands with further annoyance bubbling low with the nausea in his stomach. "I can take care of this myself—"

"Let me help you," Wakatoshi says. It sounds like an order. "Please. It's my fault, so let me."

Tendou lets out a wild bark of a laugh. "I was there too, remember? I'm also contracted by this god of yours? I'm in this as much as you are, at this point."

"I never wanted you to get hurt for this. You weren't supposed to."

Tendou kindly does not point out all of the injuries Wakatoshi has come back with in the course of their partnership. He doesn't point out how many times he's died already.

"I'm not losing anyone else, so hold still," Wakatoshi says and this time it is definitely an order. He grabs Tendou's head, ignores his hiss, and presses more magic into his wound. He has to fix the burns that the vorpium left, plus stop any more bleeding, since the last thing Tendou would like to do is accidentally hemorrhage. Whatever he's doing, it still stings like hell, despite how long they've been at this.

"…Anyone else?" Shirabu eventually asks.

"That includes you, and this friend of yours," Wakatoshi replies. Tendou can practically hear the unseen indignance. He tilts Tendou's head back further, and Tendou moves with another shudder and more thumps from his tail. It'll probably bruise at this rate. Just what he needs.

Then, all at once, Wakatoshi stops and releases him. Tendou does not reel back this time; he doesn't have the time before Wakatoshi leans forward, arms resting over his shoulders, forehead pressed against Tendou's collarbone.

The matagot freezes.

Wakatoshi's breath comes out against him in an exhausted rush of heat. "…Not that I wouldn't do this for you, too," he begins, addressing their invisible compatriot who suddenly feels a lot like an intruder to something he shouldn't be witnessing, "but this is incredibly taxing. Tendou, please don't get shot again. My hands keep shaking and I can't forget the ugly sound of it."

"I don't plan on it," Tendou replies thinly. He's tense beneath Wakatoshi, nearly quaking with pent up frustration and pain. He thinks he feels another bead of blood trace a line down to his jaw.

Wakatoshi raises his head, haggard and exhausted and disheveled, and gives Tendou a baleful, dour look that he can't begin to think he deserves.

And then the witch leans in and kisses him.

"It would be unhygienic to kiss the wound," Wakatoshi explains after he pulls away again. "But I'm really running out of options. Would you please hold still for me?"

"I think I'll go see if I can't get some sort of numbing thing. Y'know, out. Somewhere," Shirabu says, loudly, and beats a fast retreat.

"I hope he doesn't get something soporific," Wakatoshi murmurs with a sidelong glance toward the door. The moment of gentleness is past, then, and he forces Tendou's head into a tilt so he can examine the half-closed wound once more.

Tendou squirms beneath his iron grip.

"Do I have to bind you so you'd stop moving?" Wakatoshi pleads, hands tightening further on Tendou's jaw.

"Maybe I could be further persuaded if you kissed me again."

"I should've known you'd be so greedy."

-.-.-

All Tadashi can think of is wendigo when he sees all of the tall, dark, looming trees around him. The moon is bright, or is trying to be bright, but the city smog casts everything into an orangish haze, even this far from the denser parts of town.

They're not here to catch a wendigo, so it's a silly thought to have. But he likes thinking of vampires even less.

He's armed with a backpack full of garlic, wooden stakes, and two silver knives, but he still feels horribly misplaced and more than slightly terrified. He doesn't blame Kei for not wanting to accompany him—again—but he also kind of would have liked the company. Saeko had only told him about the job and then dropped him off alongside the road while she drove further out to scout out that area with that doberman of hers.

Vampires are easy, he thinks, back to her words. He's not sure he ever wanted to find out firsthand. No amount of Twilight jokes in the world could save him if they turn out to be as bloodthirsty as he thinks.

It's nearing midnight and it's cold enough for his breath to puff out in front of him, but Saeko made sure he was plenty bundled up for the job, at least. (And, with a wink that had nearly stopped his heart, she assured him that the pay is good. Tadashi is still getting used to this being a job that pays and isn't something Suga is just herding him along for.)

He appreciates the Tanaka siblings taking him under their wing, he really does. And he, useless bisexual that he is, can definitely appreciate Saeko flirting/begging her way into getting his help on this. (Yuu is still laid up with too much booze and sorrow, and Ryuunosuke is sleeping off his shift earlier that had been trying to hunt these same fuckers down.) Tadashi doesn't want to think about how strapped for personnel they are if they're actively turning to him for legitimate help on jobs.

He misses Suga.

A scream cuts through the silent forest and Tadashi drops the silver bowie he'd been loaned (again) with a squeal of his own. It hadn't sounded human, exactly, but it definitely wasn't a deer or a bird. He grabs his knife, turns in the direction of the sound, and steels himself to follow it.

He hardly takes a dozen steps before he hears it again, far closer, and this time, it's accompanied by a thump and the sounds of frantic scratching against the snow. Tadashi breaks into a run, hand nearly numb with how hard he grips the knife, and a bird screeches as it swoops low over his head, headed in the same direction. He catches a glimpse of white on black before it's lost to the branches above.

The cold air is just starting to burn his throat when he catches sight of movement through the trees: a dark figure, upright, and a flare of fire that appears so suddenly that Tadashi can only assume it's magical in nature. The quick light hadn't done much to actually illuminate the figure, however.

Tadashi thinks, only momentarily, of digging into his bag and pulling the antler onto himself. But then, he sees the figure lift another, a small, squirming thing, and another burst of flames makes him realize it's a cat.

"L-Let go of me!" the cat yowls, twisting and hissing and scratching, its over-long tail whipping back and forth.

It's small, little more than a kitten actually, but Tadashi immediately recognizes the cat as a bakeneko.

And that decides it for him.

Tadashi vaults over a thick scattering of broken branches and bushes, miraculously not catching himself on anything, and writes in the air at the same time that he yells, "Push!"

The magic staggers him, and he almost falls onto his ass. But at least the figure drops the little cat as it goes skidding. The kitten is off like a streak, trailing ash and limping badly enough for Tadashi to notice even out of the corner of his eye, and he squares off against the assailant.

The figure gets back to its feet, and Tadashi creates a will-o-wisp for light. He immediately wishes he hadn't.

The figure is humanoid in the rough sense that it is bipedal and has two arms. But it's covered in jet-black feathers, with a beak the size of Tadashi's forearm, and equally dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. There's no hair or skin visible, although there are the tattered remains of clothing clinging to its legs. He's pretty sure it has a tail, too.

Its arms aren't anything like wings, but they are thick, covered in feathers, and tipped in claws the length of his hand. They look twice as sharp as its beak.

The thing definitely isn't a vampire.

The actual bird from before pelts down at the bird creature, squawking and making a ruckus, and Tadashi uses the opportunity to book it in the direction the bakeneko went in. Shockingly, he catches up in very little time, and the black and grey cat gives him a baleful look for it.

Tadashi doesn't see or hear a collar, so it's not a maneki-neko like Morisuke. Then again, if it'd been a luck spirit, it probably wouldn't have gotten into this mess in the first place.

With a whoosh of feathers overhead, the creature from before overtakes them and lands heavily on the snow in front of them. Tadashi nearly trips over the bakeneko as they try to backtrack; the kitten hisses and claws its way up his pant leg, declaring him the lesser threat.

"It's going to eat us," the kitten tells him, plaintive and resigned beneath the tremble in its voice. It sounds young enough—and catlike enough—that Tadashi can't immediately tell if it's male or female. "Maybe you'll taste better than me, hunter, and distract it."

"Don't make me regret intervening," Tadashi scolds, backing up while trying to keep his eyes on the advancing creature. Its wings, sprouted for its flight, drip off into feathers and ichor with every step it takes.

His luck runs out when his heel catches on a root and he's sent sprawling on his ass. The kitten clings to him with claws and mewls against his throat. Tadashi skitters back, but there's nowhere else to run when his back hits the trunk of the same damned tree.

"Well," the bakeneko tells him, "th-thanks for trying, anyway."

Tadashi turns and scrambles back to his feet, the creature already reaching down to dig its claws into his exposed back, when a fucking huge fiery cat leaps onto the scene with a roar.

Tadashi hits the snow, flat on his stomach (and the kitten), covering his head with his hands. The bird creature shrieks, sounding horribly human, and he can see the flare of fire magic even through his shut eyes.

"Shouhei!" the kitten squeaks and wriggles out from beneath him.

"Please tell me that means that's a friend," Tadashi mutters as he twists around to watch.

The cat is huge, closer to the size of a tiger or a bear than the little thing perched on Tadashi's leg. Shouhei has two tails, tufted ears, and a ring of will-o-wisps like a halo.

The great beast doesn't speak, only snarl and snap at the bird creature now pinned against the snow, but the tiny bakeneko scampers right up with bright eyes and what Tadashi knows is a cat grin only because of his time spent with Morisuke.

Right when Tadashi is about to get back to his feet and maybe intervene again, another giant, two-tailed monster cat saunters onto the scene. "Yuuki," the new one says in a deep, rumbling voice that makes Tadashi think that this one is definitely male and maybe purring. That's not terrifying. "Are you alright?"

The Yuuki kitten looks hilariously small and cute next to the two massive ones. "The hunter saved me!"

The new cat casts a cursory glance over in Tadashi's direction, and Tadashi eeps at the sudden, sharp attention. He's very calm, considering their friend is still wrestling and trading growls and scratches with the bird monster, and after a moment, he sits down and pulls Yuuki toward him with a huge paw.

The magpie from earlier returns with more squawking. All three cats glare up at it, ears flat (even Yuuki's folded ones), but this time, its arrival is accompanied by a push spell.

The bird and cat monsters go tumbling, disengaging, and the other two cat spirits jump back with their hackles raised. There's enough fire in the clearing from them to easily illuminate the witch that drops into the clearing, standing on his broom with arms raised.

The witch, a man with light brown hair and worryingly dressed only in pajamas and combat boots, points down with glowing fingers. "Let him go," he commands, and only afterward seems to notice Tadashi's presence. He blinks, a couple times, and then even goes so far as to rub at his eyes. "You with the cat things?"

Nice to know someone else is as lost as he is. Tadashi, fully aware of the multiple pairs of cat eyes on him, gives a shrug. "I'm here to…" What is he here for? "I don't want anyone to get eaten, that's all."

"That thing tried to eat me!" Yuuki says at once and both big cats begin growling again.

The witch goes from confused to on guard in no time at all, and his hands crackle with electricity he arcs between his palms. The bird creature, injured and bleeding against the snow, tries to drag itself away from the spirits, but the movement only catches their attention.

Shouhei leaps at it, only to be knocked away by a blast of electricity. The other one roars and blazes with new flames, and Tadashi needs more information and a lot less fighting right now.

He scrambles in between them, drawing a line of fire in the process. He doubt it will stop the giant cats, come to think, but it's his biggest spell that won't knock him out. "Stop!" he calls, and even he is impressed by how commanding he sounded.

Who knew panic made him cool?

Maybe that's why Kei likes him.

The witch looks bemused, blinking down at him again, and when the cat spirits sniff at his flames, they look more like curious housecats than big monsters. "This is cat magic," the one says, ears pricked, and gives Tadashi a searching look. Yuuki even goes so far as to bat at it.

"I learned that from a bakeneko, a friend of mine. That's why I jumped in to protect the ki—Yuuki." Tadashi turns, addressing the witch next. "I didn't want to see them get eaten, but… I figure there's a reason why you're looking so panicked, trying to protect that bird thing, right?"

"That." The witch colors, red enough to be visible even in the firelight, and drops his arms completely. The static dies away with one last crackle. "That's, um, my friend. I swearhe's not usually like this—feathered or trying to eat spirits."

"Alright, so this was all a misunderstanding," Tadashi says, loud and pointed, and at least the cats don't immediately argue with him. He stops feeding magic into the fiery wall, and it dies, just a bit, but doesn't go out just yet.

Okay. He can do this.

The witch droops in the air, and drops to his broom when the magpie lands on his shoulder. The three cats sit side-by-side, Yuuki bracketed into the middle, hardly bigger than one of their paws. Tadashi can see now that the second spirit is larger than the Shouhei one, although they're both ridiculously huge and he's still getting past that. They're not even built like tigers or lions, they are just ridiculously huge cats.

"My name is Yamaguchi Tadashi," he says cautiously, glancing back and forth between them for any sudden movements. "I'm a, uh… hunter in training, and a neutral party. It'd be great if no one got eaten tonight, huh?"

"Yeah," the witch says with a nervous laugh. "Kinoshita Hisashi. My friend is Narita Kazuhito, and I really, really promise that he's normally human-looking and not prone to chewing on people."

The cats stay silent and still, judging them.

Hisashi floats down until he can slip off his broom, and he walks over to the crouched bird person, keeping himself between them. Tadashi can hear low murmurs from the witch, but if Kazuhito shows any sign of recognizing him, Tadashi can't see it.

"He got cursed, and this is the first time he transformed since then," Hisashi finally tells them. "So this isn't his fault. Really!"

"Cursed by what?" Tadashi asks, since the cats aren't saying anything.

Hisashi sighs but continues to cooperate. "I don't really know. There was this house? And black shit was in it? We were just trying to clean it up, but he got some on him, and he only had a headache! That was days ago, and then, he shifted to—I don't even know!" He squats down next to Kazuhito and hits him, gently, with his broom. "Dude, why were you even out tonight? Much less chewing on spirits? You're vegan, for crying out loud!"

Tadashi will address everything about that later, but what catches his attention in a bad way is the mention of the house. He has a feeling he knows exactly what house that was. "Okay, so, tonight's your lucky night, probably. I have a friend who should be able to cure that curse for your, uh, friend."

"And the fact that that thing was trying to eat my charge is just going to be ignored…?" the cat spirit asks, pointedly, and Tadashi gives him just as pointed a look in response. With a sigh, he says, "Kai, and these are Shibayama and Fukunaga. Nekomata."

Tadashi knows for certain Yuuki is not a nekomata. Unless Morisuke has a lot of explaining to do about cat spirits, at any rate, but Tadashi is still pretty damn certain they don't go through Pokémon evolutions.

"I'm sure he's sorry," Tadashi says.

Hisashi nods along at once. "Very, very sorry! He likes cats normally!"

"I see," Kai replies flatly.

Tadashi tries to think of what cat spirits find valuable. Morisuke likes naps, and safety, and fish, and money. None of that is helpful right now, but he's not sure what compels him to tell them, "I can introduce you to a bakeneko. He knows my healer friend, so he can make sure that the curse business gets taken care of and this doesn't happen again."

Yuuki leaps into the air with bright eyes and palpable excitement. Even Shouhei looks curious at that. "You know cat spirits?"

"We hadn't heard of any in this city," Kai replies with a swish of his two tails.

A deep, purring chuckle breaks into the scene, and both Hisashi and Kazuhito tense at it. Tadashi whirls around, searching out the source, silver knife raised. He comes face-to-face with a nekomata that puts the other two to fucking shame. This one is as tall as Tadashi, for starters, bulkier and scarred from a long life, fur long and silver with white flames along the two tails to match.

Kai and Shouhei bow to this one. Tadashi almost finds himself following, but he's frozen at the sight of the huge spirit within arm's reach from him.

"You smell of cat," the old nekomata says frankly, and Tadashi can only nod. "Thank you for preventing the human witch from slaughtering any of us. And I'm sure that valravn would taste dreadful, too—Shouhei, you'd be picking feathers out of your mouth for weeks if you didn't get skinned."

Shouhei hangs his head, ears low.

Hisashi looks ready to speak up, protectively in front of Kazuhito once more, but Tadashi shoots him a frantic, pleading look. The witch closes his mouth again.

"I'd like to break the prim and proper cat spirit stereotype, if it's alright with all present," the old spirit says and sits with a hefty sigh. "We don't really need anything more than promises it won't happen again if none of my charges were seriously hurt. It seems hardly a moon goes by without something trying to eat the kitten."

Yuuki, too, hangs his head and long tail both.

"So, we'll let bygones be bygones, provided the spotted human introduces us to this native city cat. A friendlier face than the coven witches, I'm sure."

Tadashi takes a long moment to realize that he means him, and his hands fly up to cover his freckled cheeks with heavy embarrassment. Hisashi rather looks like he'd like to sink into the ground, too. Tadashi nods and hopes Morisuke won't mind what he's just agreed to.

"Excellent!" With that, the old nekomata snags Yuuki out of the air with a paw the size of Tadashi's head, and scoops him up into his mouth. Even knowing that that's how cats carry young, seeing only a long tail and the tiniest glimpse of a snout and folded ears out of the giant spirit's jaws is a little disconcerting.

Maybe he'll get used to getting eaten, Tadashi thinks, horribly, and is glad he's already covering his face because he really doesn't want the little cat to suffer being in someone else's mouth any more than he clearly already has to.

The cat spirits pop out of the scene and it's Hisashi that lets out the obscenely loud sigh of relief.

Tadashi peeks at him through his fingers, and finds the witch sagged onto the snow, halfway on top of his friend. "Oh my god. Oh my god. I almost shat myself when those nekomata appeared," he groans, more to the air than to anyone else.

Tadashi echoes the sentiment.

"You, kid. Yamaguchi. This friend of yours with the cure, are they a witch?"

"No, but she's a healer."

"Perfect," he replies with another sinfully relieved sigh. He sits up, one arm remaining draped over Kazuhito's feathery neck, and is suddenly all business. "You're no witch, either, unless you've got a hell of a masking charm on you right now. You're not with any coven, right?"

"No, I'm not. Not a witch, or with a coven…"

"Perfect!"

"What is?" Tadashi must ask, because Hisashi is in his pajamas and Kazuhito is still a bird monster. That sounds like the opposite of perfect.

"So, this guy? Total secret. I can't pay you for your secrecy, but I can do all kinds of magic favors, you dig? Seriously, anything you ever need, outside of money. I'm not too good on the financial front, or healing magic for that matter, but everything else, I'm your man! Just…" Hisashi rubs the back of his head, eyes downcast. "Don't mention this to anyone. I'm in a coven, and they don't really know. I'm betting that you're a decent guy 'cause you already didn't throw us under the bus."

Tadashi likes to think he's a decent guy, but the answer gets yanked out of his hands when a doberman runs into the clearing.

"Princess, did you—" Saeko's voice carries through the still night to them, and not a moment later, she shouts, "Yama! There you are!"

Princess sits down beside Tadashi's leg, the picture of solemn guard dog. Hisashi shoots him a panicked look as Saeko breaks into the clearing, breathless and panting and waving her shotgun with probably too much excitement. Definitely too much excitement.

Saeko takes one look at Hisashi and points. "Ah!"

"S-Saeko?"

"You're one of Ryuu's friends!"

"Oh, thank god," Hisashi moans and sinks against Kazuhito again. "I'm going to die if one more shock pops into this scene. Saeko, holy shit, whatever you're paying this kid, double it. He talked down three goddamned nekomata from slurping us both up."

"That doesn't sound like vampires," Saeko says, archly, and turns to Tadashi. He can't help but quail under her gaze.

He jumps in surprise when she reaches up to ruffle his hair.

"Good fucking job, kid! I knew that luck would come in handy. Suga is going to explode with pride. Maybe I'm even halfway there."

Tadashi finds himself with hot cheeks for the second time that night. If Saeko gives the situation her blessing, that's good enough for him; Suga's blessing would be the Ideal, the icing on the cake.

Vampires or not, he feels like it's a job well done.

-.-.-

"Feeling romantic?"

Suga cocks an eyebrow over the edge of his book (the first in The Cat Who series, bless Daichi's mother). "Are we skinnydipping in the hot tub again?" he asks, hopeful.

"No, Haru noticed the footprints in the snow this morning. We'd both have to face her and ask for permission if you want to try that again," Daichi admits, and Suga lowers his book with a thoughtful hum that Daichi is quick to cut off. "This will still be nice, I promise."

Suga maintains his politely suspicious expression; they both know that he believes Daichi is trying to coddle him after the poltergeist incident. Or, perhaps, in general. Suga likes being spoiled, sure, but he doesn't need Daichi to walk on eggshells around him. "Nice is a pretty generic term," Suga neutrally replies.

"It will be an adventure," Daichi declares. Suga's eyebrow goes ever higher. "Do you want me to start listing synonyms again? It's something I used to do as a kid, and I think you'll like it. I promise it involves copious amounts of cuddling."

Copious amounts of cuddling does sound nice. It's their last night here, and Suga has enjoyed the fireplace and too many blankets thus far, but something other than collapsing into bed at different times and trying to sleep through the night would be a refreshing change of pace.

Maybe Suga's feeling hopeful again, or maybe that 'teasing' remark from last night stung more than he wants to admit.

"Alright, I'll tag along with your adventure," he says and closes his book. Daichi doesn't think he notices, but Suga totally catches the little victorious clenched fist before Daichi turns from him to start pulling extra blankets from the chest at the foot of the bed.

"You're going to need to put on pants, at least," Daichi informs him while he makes a very impressive blanket pile.

"That seems like a step in the wrong direction." But he does as ordered, shimmying into the jeans he set out for tomorrow, and curiously, Daichi does not tell him to put on anything overtop his t-shirt.

"Carry these," Daichi says, dumping a load of blankets into Suga's hardly prepared arms, and he nearly staggers with them all. Another, fleecy one goes around his shoulders, and Suga is beginning to have Suspicions about Daichi's evening plans. Daichi himself has another few blankets and what appears to be a sleeping bag under one arm.

Sure enough, Daichi leads him outside.

"Daichi," Suga warns, breath puffing out in annoyed wisps, but doesn't follow up the thought with anything else. Daichi definitely knows by now how well Sugawara Koushi and subzero temperatures mix.

"It's just for a few moments, and I need your help."

They don't head toward the car, nor toward the rough path toward either the main lodge or other cabins. They wade through the crunchy snow around the side of their cabin, and Daichi tosses the sleeping bag up onto the roof.

"Daichi," Suga tries again through the start of chattering teeth.

Daichi backs up a couple steps, around Suga, and takes a quick run toward the cabin. Suga absolutely has his eyes glued to Daichi's ABU-clad ass the entire time he effortlessly grabs the edge of the roof and hauls himself over and on top of it. That had certainly been a sight. Pretty much worth the cost of freezing his toes off.

"Come on up," Daichi calls, extending a hand down to him, and Suga snorts at him over the massive pile of blankets in his arms.

Suga has to throw them up to him, taking away his warmth one layer at a time, but soon he can do his own run-up to the wall. He feels ridiculous, honestly, clinging to a blanket like a cape and unfairly unfit when it comes to his boyfriend, but the way Daichi helps pull him up may ease the sting. A little. They're both in short-sleeved t-shirts out here, and watching his arms flex with the strain was another Good Thing in a very cold night.

"A ladder wouldn't have worked?" Suga asks as he shivers.

"I don't know where one is, and I don't think you can make one out of thin air. C'mere, help me lay this down, and then we can start building your cocoon."

The sleeping bag ends up completely unzipped, forming their mattress, and Daichi hurriedly tucks blankets under the edges to roll up over them. He lets Suga snuggle in and builds the nest around him, trusting him to keep a hollow spot for him to slither into, too, and Daichi has definitely had practice with this sort of thing. Not ten minutes pass before the blanket pile is built and he slides in.

Already, Suga is significantly warmer, and he can't fault any of Daichi's building; this seems wonderfully designed to keep all of the heat in. He can hardly feel any coolness from beneath him, either. "This is quite the idea of romance," he says with a smile.

Daichi grins around his hands, which he blows on to try to warm back up. "I try," he says. His smile softens when Suga takes his hands and covers them with his own.

Honestly, he's barely warmer. But it's the thought that counts.

"Why did we have to do this outside?"

Daichi, very gently, pushes at Suga's cheek until he has turned from him and is looking up at the night sky.

There is a smattering of clouds, bright with moonlight, but none of it takes away from how many stars he can see. From his apartment, he can see maybe two on a clear night, but here—it's unreal. The entire sky is full of twinkling lights, subtle shades of different hues, and as his eyes continue to adjust, he can pick out a splash of brighter, denser like that he realizes is the actual fucking Milky Way.

He can see the Milky Way. Without a telescope. Lying beside Daichi on a roof in the middle of nowhere.

"Oh my god," Suga breathes.

"Yeah," Daichi replies, and Suga can't fault him for how smug he sounds.

"You brought us out here to freeze our asses off to look at stars?"

"Yep."

"I love it," Suga declares and somehow tears his gaze from the starry expanse overhead. His breath catches at Daichi's expression—his rosy nose and cheeks from the cold, the contrast of his dark skin and hair against the white all around them, and the open, expectant look he wears. Like he's expecting some sort of addition, but as for what, Suga isn't sure.

He scoots forward and presses his lips to the icy tip of Daichi's nose.

Daichi blinks, then laughs in the warm breaths shared between them.

"Thank you," Suga tells him.

"Nothing else?" Daichi prompts.

Suga doesn't know where this is going. Romance? I don't know a thing about constellations, Suga thinks, too pleased to begin to worry. The only time he pays attention to the night sky is to keep track of phases of the moon to help with potion-making. "Show me the big dipper?"

Daichi drags him over until their sides are flushed and Suga's head is pillowed on his shoulder; he uses his other arm to draw out a line until Suga can see shapes in the stars. "The north star is the one connected to the little dipper," Daichi murmurs as he points out another, brighter star.

"Do you stay up late enough to stargaze a lot?"

"Shush. Otherwise I'm liable to fall asleep right now, and you'll have to drag me back down to bed by yourself."

"I'm sure we wouldn't freeze to death if we slept up here," Suga replies dryly, though he doesn't believe it. It's cozy, pressed together under their heaps of layers, but what little exposed skin there is has already begun to complain about the temperature. They'd have to burrow under completely and hope no one thrashed in the night. Suga doesn't want to try dying of hypothermia.

But right now, Daichi is a solid heat against him, and they're both warm enough, and Suga is more than content with it.

"How late can we stay up?" Suga asks as he adjusts. He rolls, as best he can up against Daichi, to return to the stars above.

"We don't have to get up early. We're not leaving until the afternoon, although mom and dad will want to stuff us with cake before we head out, so we'll have to endure."

Daichi's father is finally due home tomorrow, delayed by weather, and Suga swallows down his nerves at the prospect of meeting the man. At least Kaya already likes me, Suga thinks, and then, cake? "I like cake. What kind?"

There's a suspiciously long pause before Daichi mumbles, "Chocolate?"

"Why is there going to be cake, Daichi?" Suga asks.

"…It's not a big deal," he replies, and that clinches it for Suga.

"Were you going to tell me?" He'd wondered, briefly during the long car ride, why Daichi had picked such odd dates for a family visit, why his mother insisted on them. Not Christmas or Hanukkah, and they're leaving before the new year (besides Suga's whining).

"Maybe I didn't want to admit to getting another year older," Daichi hums.

"You're such a jerk. I didn't get you anything, and I can't now…" Suga is not a last-minute shopper. He has presents for Kiyoko and Yuu planned out for at least three years. "Let me take you out for dinner tomorrow."

Except—new year's eve, in the city, without a reservation? Daichi seems to read his mind and chuckles, a deep, rumbling vibration against Suga's side. "It's fine. I don't need anything from you—you can buy me some rabbit food or something when we get back tomorrow if you're so inclined."

"You sure you're not magical?" Suga grumbles. "A new year's birthday is pretty important." Asahi had been the same way, on the other side of the new year.

"I was born early in the morning, not even close to the actual new year."

With that, Suga begins to get Thoughts about a gift.

"Stop thinking about it," Daichi says with a tug on Suga's hair. "We can go out for dinner next week, and you're my gift. I'm glad you agreed to come out here with me."

Suga thinks about that, too. The kind of thoughts that aren't so much an idea, not a worry, but something that chews on the back of his brain until he rolls over so he's propped up on one elbow, staring down at Daichi. "Do you want to have sex?"

Daichi looks like Suga asked him if the sky is blue. "Um," a pause, "yes? Where is this coming from? Wait—you don't have to give me birthday sex, god."

"So you take me up onto the roof, romantically cocoon me, stargaze with me, and you don't want to bang," Suga deadpans, and Daichi frowns at him before pinching his cheek in retaliation. "Ow, rude!"

Daichi takes the lapse in attention to roll them, now hovering over Suga, backlit by the galaxies overhead. For such a simple move, it sets Suga's heart pounding. "Yes, I want to have sex with you, and no, I don't want to hear any birthday sex jokes about it."

"But birthday suit—"

"So you want me naked? No ABUs?"

Suga's heart absolutely trips over itself, the overexcited traitor. He prays that it's dark enough Daichi can't see the heat in his cheeks, but they're still pressed close, Suga pinned beneath Daichi's slightly larger frame, so he knows he can feel the pounding in his chest. "Don't tease me. That's my job," Suga petulantly informs him.

He wraps a leg around Daichi's waist to gain enough leverage to flip them once more, although in the process, he manages to also fling most of the blankets off of them. Both men hiss at the cold, Suga hunkering down over Daichi to seek out the remaining body heat, and they scramble for the blankets with breathless giggles. Suga lays flush on Daichi, pressing his cold face into the crook of his neck, fingers anchoring their covers down by his shoulders while Daichi wraps his arms around Suga to keep them close.

"Maybe inside would be the best choice," Daichi comments.

Suga nods, but doesn't move. Neither does Daichi.

"I like your attempt at romance," Suga murmurs against Daichi's neck.

"Before or after you tried to freeze us?"

Suga is quite tempted to throw off the blankets again out of spite. "Wrestling on a roof doesn't seem like the wisest course of action, Daichi, so don't tempt me. I don't need to break my other arm."

"Let's avoid that," Daichi agrees before beginning to place kisses against Suga's hair until he reaches his ear. "Inside?" he whispers and instead of replying, Suga raises his head so their mouths can meet.

Cold noses bump and there's an equally fascinating temperature discrepancy between their lips and tongues. Daichi reaches around Suga to pull up a blanket overtop them, cutting off what little light they had, but Suga hardly notices and closes his eyes as he sighs into the kiss.

Daichi rolls them, again, and this time, they both lose several blankets and Suga feels his leg suddenly hanging over free air.

They break the kiss and look guiltily at the corner of the roof, less than an arm's length from them.

"Inside," Suga agrees.

It feels even colder on the way down than it had been waiting before. Daichi hops down first, lowering himself from the edge (and maybe Suga's gaze lingers on his arms) before reaching up again. "I can catch you," Daichi says with a grin bright in the darkness.

Suga throws a quilt at him. "Are we leaving the stuff up here?"

"Better not."

Ugh, responsibility. Suga gathers up their things, half of it still warm, and Daichi cannot catch all of it, so they end up with a pile in the snow. Not too much should melt into it, but they're probably going to end up with enough soggy things, so Daichi hauls it all inside in trips while Suga figures out how to get down himself.

He can't grasp the edge of the roof with his cast hand, and he's not going to kid himself with supporting his weight on his other arm. He ends up sitting on the edge and jumping off that way; he lands heavily enough to fall to his hands and knees in the snow, and the abrupt shock of it against bare skin hurts more than anything else. Suga shakes the snow off his hands as he scrambles inside.

He collides with Daichi in the doorway. Daichi's hands come out to steady him and Suga may or may not lean his weight comfortably against him. "You okay?"

"You can warm me up now," Suga purrs and Daichi just about drops him. "Jeez, fine, go grab everything. I'm going to park myself in front of the fire before I have to reanimate or something."

Suga misses the way Daichi clenches his jaw, tight, as he slides past to retrieve the rest of the blankets.

While he yanks off his boots, Suga spares a forlorn look to the bed, stripped down to the sheets. That will have to be dealt with before—sleep or sex, he isn't sure, but like hell he's spending his last night here freezing any further. Daichi predictably dumps the last load of blankets onto his head when he comes back inside, and Suga, knees drawn to his chest, allows himself to be a lump.

He thinks Daichi sits down next to him. "Warming up?"

"Getting there. Thanks for bringing everything else in."

"Maybe you'll have to warm me up, too." It's a laughable joke, and Suga wriggles an arm free just to blindly pat around until he can stick his fingers against the heat of Daichi's neck. "How do you keep functioning?"

"Necromancy is a hell of a drug. I thought you were supposed to be taking away layers, not adding more?" Suga pops his head out, hair a fluffy, staticky mess, and he finds Daichi grinning at the sight he makes. "Still wanna?"

"What, fuck?"

"I just want to know if I can get attached to warming myself here or if we have to make the bed for our sweet, romantic birthday sex," Suga informs him. Daichi rolls his eyes. Loudly.

"It's not birthday sex. And honestly, the whole 'walking temperature play' you have going on is more of a turn-off than a turn-on right now."

Suga is about to retort, snappily (and likely with more physical retaliation), when Daichi reaches into his blanket lump and begins to drag him out. Suga helps as much as he is able, unwinding and kicking and freeing himself of the layers, and soon they're both seated cross-legged in front of the fireplace, a single quilt draped over their shoulders. Daichi has taken Suga's hands in his, covering them, pressing warmth into his chilled skin.

Damn him and his… Suga doesn't know how to finish that. Daichi likes the romance of these moments, which is a minor plot twist but a welcome one, but he still hasn't gotten his footing with it. Suga had barely been prepared for the harried, well-dressed god of thighs and ass when they met; he was not prepared for bookworm, military, or romantic.

Daichi looks at him, painted in reds and oranges from the fire, and holds his gaze as he brings Suga's hands up to press a kiss against his slow pulse point. He keeps their fingers entwined, turning them over, placing another peck against Suga's knuckles.

"Daichi," Suga says without entirely meaning to. "I…"

Daichi has that expectant look again. Suga doesn't know what he wants from him, but he knows he'd give it, gladly. It's the same expression he wore on the roof with the stars.

The confusion Suga feels is not enough to erase the love welling up within him for this man.

Love, he thinks, the word not accompanied by his usual dose of nerves when he leans in to capture Daichi's mouth with his own. They're both warm now, pliant and comfortable even sitting on the floor in a mess of blankets. Comfortable, Suga realizes; there's no needy passion to their movements, despite how long they've been dancing around this with one another. The intimacy is there, has been there.

Daichi releases Suga's hands and they turn so they're facing each other, knees knocking. Suga rests his good hand on Daichi's thigh, kneading the muscle beneath the fabric, and sets his chin on his fist in order to peer upward at Daichi with a smirk. "What's that look for?" Daichi asks, leaning down to his level. "I was just trying to set the mood."

"You're so soft. I'm just appreciating how lucky I am to have you."

"I'm the soft one?"

"Yes, very. Stargazing, Daichi. I'm never letting you live it down."

"Trying to set the mood," Daichi stresses, nose scrunched and mouth tipped downward. Suga wants to kiss the frown right off his stupidly handsome face. "I thought I'd give you an excuse to tell me something, since I'd like to hear at least one confession from you when you're fully conscious."

Suga slowly straightens with something akin to horror dripping down his spine. "Something?" he echoes, and fears his sleepy self. What did I say? He can't think of any sort of secret he'd give away, nothing Daichi wouldn't have already known, since he thinks his massive attraction and near-constant thirst for the man is more than obvious by now.

Suga absolutely does not deserve another eye roll tonight.

"Nevermind. I love you too," Daichi mumbles, shoulders slumped, red-faced even in the firelight.

"That's what I—god, don't scare me like that!" Suga scolds and gives him a solid thwack with his cast. Daichi yelps and catches his arm to prevent further assault, but Suga throws his weight forward, onto Daichi, and they both tumble onto the blankets piled beneath them. Daichi wheezes at the suddenness of it. "I thought—it was going to be something bad, or bad news, or—I don't know!"

"You like jumping to bad conclusions, huh?"

"It's habit."

"With me, let's both focus on the positives, okay? Like the fact that I nearly threw you out of bed to wake you back up after you dropped that little bomb on me in the middle of the night."

Suga has zero recollection of this. "It's not like it was a secret," he mumbles against Daichi's shirt. "And I didn't realize you wanted it to be a big, romantic confession, either. Sorry I stole my own thunder."

"Can I hear you say it while you're still awake and your mouth isn't too busy with other things?"

Suga rises, just enough to make eye contact, and, incredibly aware of how they're laying together right now, levelly asks, "Do you want my mouth to be busy with other things?"

Daichi groans, in exasperation, and throws an arm over his face to hide himself. Suga works at prying it off while Daichi admits, "I actually meant—noises. Moans and stuff. I'm not turning down a blowjob, but I don't see how you can consistently one-up me on these things."

"I'm a natural-born minx," Suga declares, and shuffles forward until he can kiss the tip of Daichi's nose, "and I, Sugawara Koushi, love you, Sawamura Daichi."

Suga is absolutely aware of the kind of effect his smile can have on others. He doesn't think that Daichi is aware, however, of the kind of picture he paints right now: the subtle splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose, the deep chocolate brown of his crinkled eyes, the easy way with which he shows off a casual sliver of perfect teeth.

Illuminated in golds and reds, between his neat, short hair and admirable physique, combined with the heart-stoppingly wholesome smile, Suga is getting a little too much Greek Statue from him to properly function.

So he can't be blamed for dipping his head down to kiss the smile off of Daichi's face. Love and affection swell within his chest, especially when he realizes that Daichi is still grinning against his mouth, and Suga can't exactly stop himself from doing the same. They're both smiling, then chuckling, quaking against each other and breathing each other's laughter.

"Someone should write the next great romance about us," Suga giggles. "That was so—look at how cheesy you made this!"

"I did this? You did this—"

Suga shuts him up with another kiss, because he'll blame Daichi for this and win the argument, even if he must play dirty. The grins die away at the same time the laughter does, but the affection doesn't leave their movements, only tempers down into something more muted.

Suga means to shift, so not so much of his weight is on Daichi, but Daichi doesn't allow him. He runs his hands up over Suga's hips and waist to settle in the dip of his back, beneath his shirt, and Suga marvels at the size of his hands as they continue tracing upward. Suga playfully nips at Daichi's bottom lip while he rucks his shirt up further; he's content to let Daichi rub at his back, skin contact firm and delicious, certainly no real distraction to how their mouths meet.

Suga doesn't want to part, even as breaths grow short between them, but the hot, wet slide of Daichi's lips and tongue against his makes him think dying may be worth it, for this. Surely he's died for stupider things.

Daichi shifts beneath him, but he doesn't relinquish his hold on Suga. Suga wiggles in response, trying to help with whatever Daichi wants to do, but they don't end up moving or repositioning; Daichi, quite content with Suga's weight atop him, only pulls his legs out from beneath Suga's. Suga finds himself between Daichi's spread legs, hips now slotted comfortably against each other, but Suga is surprised at what else the change reveals in the form of the amount of interest Suga can feel from Daichi.

"Is that your sword in your pocket, or are you just happy—mmf!" Suga cuts off with a muffled squeal when Daichi shoves his hand against his mouth. He wiggles his hips, just to make a point, but in his flailing effort to get breathing rights back again, he ends up accidentally knocking Daichi in the side of the head with his cast.

Daichi grunts and winces, but before Suga can apologize—Daichi hasn't actually released his mouth yet—Daichi's thighs come up to bracket his waist. Daichi flips them over with an ease that has Suga's head spinning.

Daichi ends up seated on Suga's hips, legs still nestled in tight against his sides, and pins Suga's arms above his head. His cast is on top of his good hand, not with enough force to be uncomfortable, but it'd be difficult to get free, and Suga is definitely certain that Daichi noticed his sudden interest in this swap.

"I should tie you down to keep you still for once," Daichi says.

He probably meant it as a continuation of their earlier joking.

But Suga absolutely wants to be tied down beneath Daichi's weight, restrained and immobile and at his mercy. That is a mental image that, while admittedly is not new, is now backed up by glorious reality. "Please," Suga breathes.

Daichi ducks his head, flush spreading to the tops of his ears and down his neck, and he seems uncertain for half a heartbeat. His hesitance clears as fast as it'd come, and he dips to kiss Suga once more. The passion and desire are back, intensified, and Daichi must notice immediately how Suga strains against him, seeking the force pinning him in place.

Daichi begins moving his hips, little movements more teasing than anything, but it's enough for Suga to let out a whine that Daichi eagerly swallows. He draws back after a moment, and says in quiet wonder, "You actually like this."

Suga is not pleased by another interruption. "Did you think I was joking all this time?"

"Kind of, yeah," Daichi confesses. He leans down to give Suga one more kiss, then sits back. Suga has his complaint on the tip of his tongue, but Daichi strips off his shirt, and then reaches for Suga's. "C'mon, off."

He's content to stay sitting on Suga, which isn't an issue for his shirt (though it traitorously gets caught on his cast before Daichi helps him), but for his pants, that's another matter. And while it may have been a little while since he's gotten any real action, he's pretty fucking sure that pants need to be lost at some point in the process. At least a little. Even ABUs.

Suga reaches forward to help unbutton Daichi's pants, but Daichi pushes his hands away, back to over his head. "Stay up there," Daichi says and Suga whines again. "Or… can you grab the lube and stuff? With magic?"

"I need my hands for that," Suga tells him (and does not tease him for having brought anything on the trip, since he did the same).

"Really?"

"I'm not a jedi. It'd be faster to grab them yourself." Suga does not have faith that he wouldn't accidentally toss something in the fireplace.

With one last kiss to Suga's exposed collarbone, Daichi gets off to rummage around in his bag by the bed. Suga toes off his socks and peels off his jeans as fast as he is capable; they're pooled around his knees by the time Daichi sits back down on the blankets next to him, eyebrow raised. "Impatient or something?"

"I thought you were the one who was impatient," Suga shoots back.

"I'm always ready to put my hands on you, but impatient seems rude here." He helps Suga pull his jeans off his feet, but before he can do more than unbutton his own pants, Suga pounces on him.

Daichi ends up flat on his back, Suga between his legs, and Suga pauses long enough to tell him, "You can be impatient on your birthday."

He points at the clock on the wall, waiting just long enough for Daichi to see that it's past midnight, before Suga runs his hands up the hard planes of Daichi's chest. His fingers brush a nipple, and Daichi's breath hitches—to be brought up again later, but now, Suga sinks his teeth into the junction between his neck and shoulder just for the way he jumps against him.

"Tell me if it's too much," Suga murmurs, apologetic, as his lips and tongue soothe over the bite. Daichi nods, and Suga sucks against the mark to earn another little jolt.

Suga has always enjoyed marking partners, but Daichi is exceptionally, beautifully responsive. Suga is beginning to think that Daichi's neck is particularly sensitive—and it's not even his birthday—when Daichi arches against him and Suga can feel that he is definitely hard. And still wearing those pesky pants.

He kisses his way down Daichi's chest, chaste if wet, running his nails over the skin he passes over. He hooks his fingers into Daichi's pants and pulls, and his boyfriend obligingly lifts his hips. Suga wastes no time with his boxers, either, yanking them down as well, and it's not his first time seeing Daichi naked but it's his first time seeing him hard, and if he stares a little too long, no one can judge him.

Daichi's body is beautiful, in every way Suga can think of. In moments like these, there is no insecurity comparing himself to the other, just raw appreciation for the ridiculously attractive man he has managed to fall in love with.

Suga may be taking his time lowering his open mouth, but he doesn't think he deserves the bottle of lube that hits his shoulder.

He grabs it, tongue still sticking out, but Daichi answers the question before he can ask. "It's my birthday, so I can ask for this, right?"

Suga thinks he can hear the whirr-click of his brain shutting down like an old computer. "You. Uh." Smooth, Koushi. "Oh, you want to make me do all the work?"

"You offered," Daichi loftily replies, like he isn't just as red as Suga feels.

Okay, so this requires a change of mental images. In a good way. All of this is pleasant surprise after pleasant surprise, but fucking one Sawamura Daichi is not necessarily how Suga envisioned this when it was first brought up.

Suga also realizes he only has one hand to work with.

He can do this. Creatively. "Humor me," he mumbles, unsure if Daichi hears him, but at least he spreads his legs a bit further in no unclear terms as to what he's hoping for.

Daichi has to sit up and help him smear lube on his fingers (he seems to realize then that Suga may be having difficulties), but Suga pushes him back down with his cast arm and nudges his legs further apart. He lays down in the space between, and, using his right arm to pin Daichi's hips down to keep him in place, he hooks one leg over his shoulder and grabs the stiff cock with his left hand. Daichi barely has time to suck in a breath before Suga's mouth is on him.

Suga laps at the head of Daichi's dick, looking up at him with lidded eyes. Daichi's eyes are closed, mouth open and panting. A pretty picture, but Suga knows he can do better.

He closes his lips over the tip, giving him a coy suckle, before opening his jaws wide to sink down over him. In times such as these, he's never more glad for his lack of a gag reflex, and he takes a breath through his nose before relaxing his throat and pressing down until he has all of Daichi in him. His now-free hand has gone downward, idly circling Daichi's ass, smearing lube liberally around while Daichi adjusts to the sudden sensations with a strung-out groan.

"S-Suga," Daichi says, a little hoarsely, and Suga hums in acknowledgement. Daichi gasps out a rough noise, and, pleased, Suga swallows around him just to hear it again. "Shit, Suga," Daichi sighs, one hand lifting, then hovering uselessly over Suga's hair.

Suga raises his head enough to meet his palm, and Daichi's fingers card through starlight locks a few times before coming to gently rest. (They can work on the hair-pulling angle later.) Suga times the first press of his finger with another deep bob of his head. He's rewarded by the momentary tightening of Daichi's hand in his hair; he repeats the motion, pushes his finger in past the first knuckle, and only then gives Daichi a moment to adjust and catch his breath.

It's been awhile since Suga has done this, and he thinks it may have been some time since Daichi got fucked, too. It takes him a little while to truly relax, even with the pleased noises escaping him. Suga pulls off, catching his own breath while mouthing at the side of Daichi's shaft. He thinks about asking, checking in with him, but Daichi catches his eye and breaks into a smile. It's honestly a smile way too wholesome for this moment.

"You're good at this. The deepthroating was a surprise," Daichi earnestly tells him.

He sounds far too composed. Suga, ignoring the burning on his face, dips down to recapture Daichi's dick, swallowing down to the root in one go just for the harassed edge Daichi's voice takes.

"If you're going to—ah!" Daichi cuts off with a surprisingly higher-pitched moan, at odds with the gravelly baritone Suga had been getting used to. Suga crooks his finger again and wishes he could smirk around the length in his mouth, but surely Daichi can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

Daichi squirms, thighs tensing on either side of him, and he half-wishes he could pull off and pay respect to them, but he has a goal in mind. That goal involves another finger, and this time, Daichi adjusts far quicker.

Suga must force his hips back down a few times—he definitely appreciates the enthusiasm and has no issues with the depth, but he's also working with a handicap, and it's difficult to finger someone while getting facefucked at their pace.

Daichi's voice is beginning to sound strung-out, dragging on the low ends, making his voice even deeper. Suga could listen to it all day. He adds a third finger, and curls them insistently upward against Daichi's prostate. Another sweet sound is his reward, and he hums, rewarding Daichi in turn. "Suga," Daichi gasps, hand tightening on his hair again, "I-I'm close—!"

Good. Suga bobs his head with renewed vigor, ignoring the ache in his jaw, and Daichi rides down on his fingers as much as the arm pinning him will allow. He's tense, trembling, and the sheen of sweat on his skin catches the firelight in a way that's surely straight out of a romance novel. Suga keeps his eyes open, upward as best he can, wanting to see as much as possible.

The way Daichi arches against him doesn't let him see that much, but his body is a masterpiece Suga is happy to play.

Daichi's voice breaks on Suga's name and he tugs, now insistent, on Suga's hair. Like fuck Suga's pulling off now.

Daichi comes with a rough, wordless shout and Suga swallows it all down with ease. Daichi's thighs could probably squish him with how they tighten, but oh, what a way to go. By the time Suga pulls off of him, licking up any remaining mess, Daichi is a sated, relaxed wreck of a man.

"I shouldn't be surprised you swallowed," Daichi grumbles, one arm thrown over his face.

"Less cleanup," Suga happily replies. Both of their voices are fairly fucked, and Suga feels proud of that. He gently, carefully withdraws his fingers from Daichi, and he winces, but sighs and pulls his leg from off of Suga's shoulder.

"Get up here so I can return the favor," Daichi orders, but Suga only blinks at him, content to lay on his hips. "Oh, please tell me you're still hard, otherwise I'm going to—"

"Yes, I am," Suga hotly interrupts and bites at the jut of Daichi's hipbone in retaliation. "I'm a little slow to start but I'm not dead yet, Daichi."

Daichi squirms again beneath him, then sits up, forcing Suga to sit back on his heels. He feels like he's being examined when Daichi's eyes rake over him, and he doesn't know whether to preen or grab for the blankets. "I can't deepthroat like you can," Daichi begins, and Suga stops him right there with a kiss. Daichi doesn't complain about what he must taste like (what a polite lover), but he does furrow his brow in confusion at the second interruption.

"So, my plan," Suga says, pausing to peck him again, "is that the birthday boy gets multiple orgasms. You down for a round two? You did kind of imply more, but that's fine if you're tired."

So Suga wants to get held down. Sue him.

Daichi grins, then it's his turn to pepper Suga with little pecks all over his mouth and cheeks, up to the mole by his eye. "Give me a few minutes. What about you? I'm going to go crazy if you don't let me touch you once tonight, Koushi."

Suga's heart stutters in his chest at the same time his dick gives a very interested twitch. The hoarseness of Daichi's voice, the rarity with which he uses his given name, the stupid fucking romantic firelight and—and he totally deserves it when Daichi smirks, mischievous and evil and absolutely promising filth in the very near future. Suga swallows down a whimper because while he may be a weak man, he's not that weak, and Daichi must not know the extent of power he holds over him.

"Okay, so we found something you like," Daichi teases, and crowds forward until Suga is leaning back on his hands and Daichi is between his legs.

"You have found plenty of things I like tonight." Suga is aware of Daichi's weight nearly over him, leaning in to chase Suga, cupping his face and kissing him again. There's too few points of contact between them—particularly with the whole hard dick thing—but Daichi is just there, solidly in Suga's space, and Suga wants more.

Suga gets it when Daichi wraps his hand around his aching cock and he can't help but jolt into his grasp. Daichi swallows Suga's initial gasp, but pulls back a moment later, resting his forehead against Suga's. His pace is slow but his grip is firm, and despite the way Daichi stares at him like he's a precious sight, Suga feels his eyes fluttering from the sensation.

"You're gorgeous," Daichi breathes and dips downward to suck at the pale column of Suga's neck. Suga lets his head tip back with another sigh and allows Daichi space. "I still have no idea how I snagged you, I'm so lucky to have you."

"Saddled with me, more like," Suga cheekily replies.

Daichi tightens his grip on the upstroke and Suga can help neither his moan nor the tilt of his hips. He's tempted to say something else, just because he does like self-depreciative humor (especially if it will get a rise out of Daichi in a nice sexual direction), but Daichi isn't letting him compose himself. His grip and rhythm are both just right, and the press of teeth against the junction of his neck and shoulder is too good.

Suga's voice cracks over a call of Daichi's name when he bites down, and suddenly Suga is in very real danger of finishing this night way too early.

But these thoughts slip away in the urgency to come; Daichi is still all around him, in his space, so very present that it makes Suga heady with him. They both smell like sweat and sex, but Daichi is all that much hotter for it, and Suga feels like he's melting against him. He must have a damn steep learning curve, because Daichi is pressing far too many of his buttons, and it can't all be blamed on how pent-up Suga feels.

"Daichi," Suga gasps, nearly tripping over the hard consonants. He means to warn him, one last-ditch attempt even in spite of how fucking amazing his hand feels. Daichi murmurs something against the skin of his throat, and Suga doesn't catch it over his own rapid breathing. "Daichi, I'm—fuck—"

Daichi halts in his movements in order to squeeze the base of Suga's cock.

Suga's hips jolt upward, chasing climax and trying to unfurl that tight heat deep in his belly, and he's unaware he's whining until his voice is already winding down. "A-Are you," he pants, cracking open an eye to try to glare, but he feels too everything to muster one, "are you fucking s-serious, Daichi."

"Something tells me you may take more than a few minutes for another, so bear with me," Daichi says sweetly and has the gall to put a peck on the mole near Suga's eye again.

"Please," Suga pleads, pushing against Daichi's grip on him. "O-Okay, so my refractory period is like, six months, but that doesn't mean I can't die of blue balls the same as any hot-blooded male!"

Daichi stares at him.

"It was a joke!" Suga groans and flops onto his back so he can cover his burning face. "You're right. I have one in me for tonight. But that doesn't mean be a fucking tease!"

"Sorry," Daichi says without meaning it at all. He releases Suga, stroking him twice because he is a fucking tease, and Suga wants to squirm out of his skin. Both from the denied orgasm and the heat that is back in Daichi's gaze. "Hand me the lube again, I think it's somewhere by your head."

Suga fumbles blindly around with his good hand until he finds the bottle, and staunchly ignores the way Daichi crawls over him to settle on his thighs. Somehow, he doesn't seem actually prepared for the whole Getting To Fuck Sawamura Daichi deal. Daichi manages to find the condom in the blankets near their legs, and he holds it in his mouth while popping the cap on the bottle Suga hands him.

Suga wants to offer to help, again, but the sight makes his mouth go dry. Daichi is up on his knees, one hand behind himself, cock bobbing hard and flushed between his legs again. He grins around the foil wrapper in his mouth, expression unfairly attractive and smug even though his breath catches at his fingers' work.

It isn't long, prepared as he was before, and then Daichi wipes the excess lube off on his thigh and carefully opens the condom with his teeth. He's not teasing this time when he rolls it on for Suga.

When Suga reaches down to help—or, alright, probably grope Daichi's beautiful legs as much as humanly possible—Daichi leans forward over him again and growls, "Hands over your head."

Suga is quick to lift his arms and let Daichi do whatever he wants to him.

Suga isn't sure where to look—there's a lot to take in right now—and his attention flickers back and forth between Daichi's face and where he grabs his dick and holds it still. Suga is pretty sure they're both holding their breath when Daichi first sinks down over him.

Suga swears but Daichi is louder between them, and that makes the situation impossibly better. (Suga starts to think he may be developing a thing for Daichi's voice, even more than he already had, at any rate.) By the time Daichi is flush against him, a solid, warm weight on Suga's hips and so impossibly tight around him, Daichi's eyes are open again, and he surveys Suga down his nose in a calculating way. It makes Suga swallow uselessly. His mouth is cotton-dry.

Daichi doesn't move for a long moment, and Suga lets him adjust, but concern forces his hands downward. He massages the meat of Daichi's thigh, and asks, "You okay?"

"Better, now." Daichi consciously relaxes, and readjusts himself, settling on Suga's lap and making him whine again. "Hands back up," he says, softer this time, and takes Suga's fingers in his own as he brings them up over Suga's head on the blanket. He braces his weight on Suga's cast for a moment while he adjusts his weight again, rocking his hips forward for the first time and making them both groan.

"Don't be a tease again," Suga warns.

"Is this alright if I don't tease you?" Daichi asks in return, and Suga nods, quick and eager.

Daichi takes his time to get into a rhythm, and Suga strains beneath him, just for the feel of Daichi's weight, pinning him in place. He never quite lifts enough for Suga to gain enough leverage to thrust upward, instead rocking and sliding on Suga's lap, but it's more than enough to have them both gasping against each other.

Soon, Daichi resettles his weight and leans down so Suga can reach his mouth, and Suga wrests away as much control of the kiss as Daichi will allow. He still controls the pace of everything else, but Suga bites and licks and swallows down every one of Daichi's sounds.

Then, they're not quite wordless moans, but Suga catches the rasp of "Koushi" that is definitely Too Much right now.

"Daichi," Suga warns, again, and Daichi laughs against his mouth. He releases Suga's hands, and one of his own instead combs through Suga's sweaty, pale hair again, and Suga arches his neck into the touch.

"Koushi, you feel goddamned amazing," Daichi rumbles and Suga whines yet again, high and keening; he feels like one long whine, honestly, at Daichi's mercy and it's fucking great. He hadn't expected this side of him but Suga cannot get enough. He wants to drown in the sensation of Daichi's ass clenching down around him, the solid weight of him against his hips, the large hands keeping him down.

He's definitely not going to last as long as Daichi deserves. Especially if he keeps up the name bullshit.

Suga plants his feet flat on the floor; Daichi's weight is now balanced high enough that he has the leverage needed to thrust up, and Daichi lets out a shout and his hand tightens on reflex on Suga's hair.

Suga can't help but grin, wide and half-feral, and Daichi looks down at him with equal parts wonder and lust. They reach a silent agreement on their new rhythm.

Daichi leans back just far enough, releasing Suga's hair in favor of fisting his own dick, and Suga meets him halfway on every shift of their hips. Hands free, Suga finds Daichi's hips, guiding him and digging into the thick muscle as he trails down to his thighs. Everything about this ought to be illegal, but Suga stares up at the sight like he wants to burn it into his memory forever, anyway.

Daichi's grunts are closer to shouts half the time now, having found the proper angle and with assistance from Suga beneath him, and Suga can feel the build back up to his orgasm again. He grits his teeth against it and Daichi does not complain about the way his nails dig into his skin. "You close again?" Daichi asks, not unkindly, but there's the barest lilt to his voice that Suga meets as a challenge.

The thought of using magic to aid him passes his mind, fleetingly, but this is for Daichi and that's not something to spring on someone without warning. Suga has caught onto the rough angle that makes Daichi shout, however, and that's more than enough help. Daichi definitely doesn't look quite so self-satisfied when his chin drops down to his chest and he's trying to bite his lips to muffle himself.

His pace on himself has increased, too, and Suga can feel him clenching around him, and hopes to fuck that means Daichi is as close as he is. "Daichi," Suga says in little more than another keen, and drags his hand up his thigh, hip, side, until he's gripping his bicep and tugging him back down far enough to meet him in an open-mouthed kiss.

It's messy and distracted but Daichi is just as eager as he is.

He doesn't know who finishes first, only that they tip each other over the edge, and Suga is certain he's expired with how hard he comes.

Things are hazy for a moment, and with his head in the clouds, Suga can only dimly register Daichi flopping down on top of him with an exhausted huff.

Daichi sounds nice when he comes, Suga thinks, pleased, and wonders if he had correctly heard the word 'love' thrown out again. The thought sends a happy tingle up his spine unrelated to the afterglow. "Hey," he croaks, then tries again after swallowing. "Hey, hot stuff. You're squishing me."

"What kind of pillow talk is that," Daichi hoarsely replies. Suga can feel his wince as they separate, and Daichi rolls over onto his back, legs thrown over Suga's. They both have a mess of come and sweat smeared across their chests now. Beautiful.

"Happy birthday, I love you?" Suga tries again.

Daichi smacks him with his cleaner hand. "If you love me, please get up and get us a washcloth."

"What if I lick it off," Suga offers, because he doesn't want to move. He's tired, and kind of sore, because fucking on a floor (even with a couple blankets) is maybe something for younger men.

"I don't think either of us can handle another round," Daichi replies.

Daichi helps him sit up, but Suga is the one to get up and rummage around for something to clean up with. He tosses the condom in the trash, leans a little too heavily against the counter while he waits for the running water to turn hot, and ends up nearly flopping back onto Daichi with a yawn. "We should get to bed," Suga mumbles against Daichi's shoulder. Convincingly. But before that— "What time is it?"

"Almost half past one. We're going to be exhausted tomorrow."

Suga, personally, is always exhausted. Doesn't mean he looks forward to it. "What time were you born?"

Daichi yawns, and is too tired to ask Suga about his strange line of questioning. "Something like two or three in the morning. Mom wanted to win the prize for the last baby born of the year, but, well, it didn't really work out too well."

Suga chuckles, muffled by Daichi's skin. "Asahi… His parents were the same way, they wanted the first baby of the year. He was born around six or seven in the evening…"

"What about you?"

"June."

"C'mon, bed, before we fall asleep and wake up really regretting everything."

Suga whines and grumbles, but they manage to drag over enough blankets to make the bed habitable again, and Suga sets his phone alarm before burying his face in the nearest pillow. Daichi curls around him a moment later with a sigh and a smooch for his hair. "…How old are you now, anyway?" Suga mumbles before he drifts off.

"Twenty-seven. Gross, right."

That catches Suga's attention. He cracks open an eye, and props himself up just enough so he can peer at Daichi. "I'm older than you?"

Daichi blinks up at him, like a sleepy deer in the headlights. "You are?"

"I thought you were older, honestly. You have the whole salaried job and responsible thing—"

"You have grey hair, if we're pointing fingers. How old are you?" Daichi asks.

"Twenty-seven. And a half. I can't believe you're such a graverobber—do you ever say something, and immediately regret it."

"You seem to do that enough for both of us."

"I was so nice to you tonight," Suga laments and burrows back into the other man, wrapping arms and legs around and maybe not caring if he accidentally knocks Daichi in the head again with his cast. "So nice!"

"You were."

"You weren't half bad yourself, either. I liked the stargazing. Could've done without the hypothermia."

"There's no pleasing you, is there," Daichi sighs, sleep tugging at his voice, and Suga glances up at him to find his eyes already closed.

"You please me plenty. Goodnight, and don't hate me in an hour when I wake you up again."

"Mm."

Just as planned. Suga drifts off with a smile against Daichi's collarbone.

When his alarm goes off a scarce hour later, Suga hates every romantic bone in his body. He about goes back to sleep, but it takes too long to turn off his alarm, and he's nearly awake by the time he's staring at his phone wallpaper (a picture of himself, Kiyoko, and Sunshine) through one squinted eye.

Okay, so it's been awhile since he's done this. But he knows how. Roughly. He knows the science—magic—behind it, anyway, and it will be worth this unholy hour if he manages to do it. Suga draws the runes in the air by his head, and motes of light spring up over his fingertips, dim and pretty in the dark cabin. With another rune drawn beneath them, they begin twinkling before dying out.

"Daichi," Suga rasps, and shakes Daichi with his cast. The man grumbles and turns away, but professional sleep octopus Sugawara Koushi already has him in his clutches. " Daiiiichi," he purrs against his ear, and Daichi's face screws up in sleepy irritation.

Finally, he gets a, "What."

"Wake up, I have your birthday present."

"Suga, 'm sleeping."

"Please, it'll be worth it."

Daichi doesn't look like anything short of winning the lottery would be worth it, but he slits open an eye, because he's a good and patient person. Suga sits up, just to show him that it's possible for a human body to be somehow awake at this hour despite enthusiastically fucking on the floor not too long ago, and Daichi is, after tremendous effort and groaning, upright beside him a moment later.

"Follow me," Suga tells him, and takes Daichi's finger to draw against the sheets. It takes a few times to get the curve right, but this is a simple rune. "You need to do that, on your own, but I need you to feel it."

"…Feel what," Daichi says flatly.

This is going to be a hard sell to someone grouchy and half-asleep. It's his fault for being a morning baby. "Like… Like you're in water, slowly getting covered, and you feel the cold temperature crawling up your body and—"

"Is this a ghost story or something?"

"No. Just. Let all your energy well up. Like you're meditating, except you need to focus on your fingers. On the mark you're making."

Daichi sighs, and traces over the mark again. The first time doesn't catch, but his fingers twitch the second time, and he frowns as he reopens his eyes completely. Now he's paying attention.

The third time, the same little mote of light sparks to life over his index and middle fingers.

Daichi raises his hand, and the light follows his movement, hovering in front of his face, and illuminating the steadily growing starry-eyed expression that comes about with the dawning realization of what Daichi just did. "Is that…?" he whispers, like he's scared it'll vanish.

"Magic is stronger on someone's birthday," Suga says and kisses his cheek. "Happy birthday, Daichi. If you had a spark mark it'll twinkle like a star."

"What the hell is a spark mark," Daichi breathes. He moves his hand and the light follows him, trickling down over his fingers and onto the palm of his other hand. Suga takes it, and draws the rune until Daichi can mimic him, and Daichi jumps when the light flickers a few times, bright, before dying out.

He immediately tries again, and Suga shakes with the effort to contain his laughter at the raw delight on Daichi's face. Daichi puts both marks together from the start, and the light lasts a little longer, flaring half a dozen times before dying to nothing. "Alright," Suga says, and puts his hands over Daichi's, "that's enough. Trust me, you don't want magical exhaustion."

"I can handle more than a light," Daichi snorts.

"You're new to this, and we have no idea what kind of magical talent you have. Most people can handle a little light, yes, but we can talk to Kiyoko later about more practice. Sleep time now."

"You can't just share magic with me and then tell me to go back to sleep."

"I can introduce you to a sleep spell next," Suga deadpans.

"…You gave me actual, literal magic for my birthday," Daichi says, and only after he's satisfied with how red Suga turns does he slide back down into bed. "I'd kind of given up on trying it since I saw how much of a headache it gave you. But making your own nightlight is pretty fun."

"Wait until I teach you binding charms."

"Definitely time to go back to sleep."

Suga chuckles as Daichi kisses his bangs, then mole, then lips. They whisper goodnights, tangled together once more, and Suga listens to the steady, strong beat of Daichi's heart as he drifts off for the rest of the night this time.

-.-.-

Kenma wishes they were back in the tengu realm with its weak, artificial sun, or even in the strange times of the goblin market. Or even still downtown, where the tall buildings can cast enough shade to give him reprieve for a little while longer from the dawn light.

But instead, they snuck out of the tengu realm for the second time, and Kenma faces the end of the year.

He feels sick when he thinks about it. Kuro, if he's awake enough to notice, hasn't said anything about the date.

They need to prepare. Kenma doesn't know precisely what the end of a demonic contract is like, but there are basic precautions they can take. Being alone would be the absolute minimum. Sleep soot would be great, too.

Past that, Kenma doesn't think about the possibility of having to put down Kuro anymore. He wants to make sure Kuro will be okay. He'll need to help him maintain or regain a settled form, and who knows what kind of physical toll this will take on them both. Kenma wouldn't be surprised if it eats through his magic before it ends, too.

They're headed to Kenma's original apartment. Kiyoko and Masha aren't a threat this morning, not like they have been.

Kenma is lost in his thoughts, Kuro tugged drowsily along in his wake, when the contract abruptly snaps and ends.

They both stagger and fall to the ground with matching, shouted swears. Kenma thinks he sees Kuro splash back into an unsettled form in his peripheral before he squeezes his eyes shut and curls into a ball to try to ease the pain. It's sharp in his sternum, a hook just under his heart, but it's fleeting. It fades long before Kenma catches his breath again.

And then, they're okay.

They lay panting on the dirty city sidewalk at the end of December, staring up at the pink sky, and neither says a word.

How anticlimactic, Kenma thinks dully. What's done is done at this point. He survived. Now he just has to see if he has a feral demon about to eat him, or if Kuro has turned into something worse.

Kuro peers up at him, a blob of black against the rest of his formless shape on the pavement, and blinks wide, white eyes. "You okay?" he asks, tentative and scared.

"I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"Not hungry," Kuro quickly replies.

"Okay," Kenma allows, and forces a small smile, "but do you still hurt? Can you settle again?"

"No," Kuro says, and squints a little. He rises up, not quite humanoid but a little more solid. "…Oh."

Kenma raises an eyebrow, prompting, and extends his hand.

Next thing he knows, he has a demon throwing himself at him. He's pleased to realize that fear doesn't kick in. He's flat on his back, and Kuro, settled and naked atop him, looks starry-eyed and exuberant and full to bursting with joy. "I can lie to you!"

What a thing to be excited about.

"The sky is green, two plus two equals seven, and I don't love you! Kenma, I can lie to you!" Kuro nearly shrieks, and shoots off of Kenma. He's two steps away before he sinks into a puddle again, and Kenma has no idea if it was on purpose or not.

His mind settles on the last bit of that against his wishes. So that's a lie? He doesn't address it or the happy warmth it creates in his belly. His body feels lighter, somehow, as if the contract had been a weight for so long that he'd gotten used to it. He wonders if Kuro feels the same. "C'mon, Kuro."

The name suddenly feels wrong on his tongue. Kuro doesn't seem to notice, and remains in Kenma's shadow, vibrating in his excitement until they reach the safety of the apartment complex. There still is, always is, damage control to do. Kenma, facing this earlier in the day than anticipated, now gets the fun task of hiding an uncontracteddemon from the city.

The things one does for love, he supposes.

-.-.-

"Koko!" Daichi calls and opens his arms wide. The dog bounds up to him and he nearly ends up flat on his back from the force of it. Suga isn't sure what kind of dog Koko is, only that he's huge and shaggy and brown.

"He's always like this," Kaya says wryly, grinning behind her hand.

"Nice to see you, too," Sawamura Hiromasa says in a flat voice. Daichi grins up at him over the dog crawling all over him. "Happy birthday, Dai."

"You got me a dog," Daichi says with a cheeky grin that has Suga hiding his giggles. Some first impression.

"He missed you." With that, Hiromasa extends a hand down, helping his son up and out from beneath the furry threat. They hug, briefly, Daichi's childhood dog still circling around them with a tail going a mile a minute. "It's nice to see you again, even for today. Visit more often!"

"Dear," Kaya gently interrupts, and tugs Suga over toward them. "This is Daichi's partner, Koushi."

Suga snaps to attention, nervous for the first time since arriving today. "S-Sugawara Koushi, sir. Call me Suga."

Daichi mouths 'sir' behind his father's shoulder, because he's a jerk. Hiromasa, who honestly looks very little like Daichi except in his naturally stern expression, raises an eyebrow. "You a military boy too?"

"No."

"He's a city boy," Kaya helpfully adds. "And he's already become my new best friend, so don't scare him off with any macho routine."

Suga really appreciates the loyalty. Hiromasa's sharp gaze never wavers, but he does seem to become more thoughtful, and after a long, tense moment, he claps Suga on the shoulder. "Nice to meet you. Treat Daichi right, and you'll do right by me."

Suga deflates with such a sigh of relief he's honestly surprised Kaya doesn't burst out laughing. "Alright," Daichi intervenes, somehow with that massive dog in his arms, "we'll be going then."

"Put that beast down, you're going to have to wash your hands again," Kaya sighs. (Suga tries to figure out the logistics of a five hour drive with a dog the same size as him in a small car.) "Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't get a dog right out of enlistment."

"He has a rabbit," Suga volunteers. Both of Daichi's parents stare at him, and Daichi's ears go red. Suga breaks into a bright smile. "Her name is Dinah. She's very sweet and gets along with my cat very well. I have pictures!"

"Suga," Daichi says, quick to drag his boyfriend away from his parents, presumably to also wash his hands before cake.

They only have time for lunch and a small family thing before they leave. Haruna handed Daichi a wrapped gift that morning when he'd dropped off the keys, but now, it's just Suga, alone with Daichi's immediate family. Totally not a reason to be nervous.

Suga learns that Daichi's father is a truck driver, and usually ends up taking Koko with him (because of loneliness, according to Kaya, although she does not say whose). Weather had been bad this year, but Suga is glad they at least had this much time together, even through the guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Any time he opens his mouth to say they can stay another day, he can talk to Yuu about tomorrow, Daichi's hand finds his and squeezes. Suga is beginning to think he's dating another mind-reader.

The cake turns out to be delicious, and chocolate, just as Daichi predicted.

Kaya loads them up with leftovers and kisses Suga on both cheeks as goodbye. Hiromasa rolls his eyes at his wife, awkwardly shakes Suga's hand, and Suga is quick to retreat behind Daichi until their farewells are said. He isn't sure if it's telling or not that Daichi spends the most time saying goodbye to Koko. Who does, in fact, try climbing into the car.

Suga is too happy to be leaving the awkward atmosphere with Daichi's father that he's not nervous about being in a car again until they're twenty minutes out.

"Do they hate me?"

"Oh my god," is all Daichi says, and he's grinning, asshole.

"I'm tearing away their only son on his birthday to go back and angst over my dead friend," Suga groans, covering his face with his cast.

"Suga, it's fine. It's not the first time I've made this trip on my birthday, jeez. And we're going back home to grab our pets, stay in tonight, and you owe me dinner next week."

Suga allows this. The image is appealing, at least. Talk with Yuu again, Suga adds to the checklist. Talk with Kiyoko again. So much of this trip seems to have cleared his personal air; he feels a little lighter, and certainly less of a wreck than before. Asahi is still a deep drag on his heart, and he doesn't look forward to speaking with either Yuu or Kiyoko, but it has to be done. He's been selfishly running away for a little too long for the supposed elder in this relationship.

Not that he ought to drag Daichi into his personal affairs any further.

"I miss Sunny," Suga says as he stares out the window, just to break the noise of Daichi's bad taste in music. It's the Spice Girls again. "But thanks for dragging me out. This was fun."

"We'll do it again next year," Daichi says. An offer, not overly hopeful, but a statement of his belief that they'll last that long. Suga smiles against his fingers and turns a little more so Daichi can't see how silly that's made him.

"Yeah, for sure. Next year, another family vacation."

So they return to the city with a new year on the horizon.

-.-.-

(( A/N: Котенок! = "Kitten!"
Лёвочка. = "Lyovochka."
Прекратите драться! = "Stop fighting!"
J'ai essayé. = "I tried."
Ouais? = "Yeah?"
Lève-toi. = "Get up."
Dieu merci. = "Thank god."
Охуе́ть. / Лев, что за нахуй?! = "Holy shit. / Lev, what the hell?!"
Нет. / Лёвочка. = "No. / Lyovochka." ))