Killjoy

Skewed digital tones sounded from the handheld console between Misaki's hands as he laid back against the blanket spread out on the centre of the floor and watched the screen illuminate. He had been fidgeting with the system for so long with it clasped in outstretched arms that his muscles had begun to cramp, causing him to power the unit down just as the sounds of his character's defeat sounded in the apartment.

After drawing his feet towards his chest, they sprang forward, using the momentum to set him back upright with his legs flopped lazily in front of him. Even though he was teeming with energy that he needed to burn, his expression was as uncharacteristically vacant as it had been for the last week or so. It had been a while since he'd managed to screw up badly enough to cause Neirah to raise her voice, and he still hadn't managed to bridge the gap between them. It had made Saburōta's birthday awkward. Although, he wholeheartedly believed that she used their conflict as an excuse to devote her attention to her elaborate Wolf-kun.

Something about the memories made his face twist. It was Saburōta's fault that their relationship began to go sideways in the first place. Misaki was perfectly content thinking that Neirah was a violent beast, but then Saburōta went and let her get kidnapped. Without comprehending it, Misaki's shoulders tensed, and he found himself kicking out his socked feet against the floor in a mild tantrum. Watching the way Neirah doted on her cherished friend had Misaki's teeth grinding as he sat there wondering what on earth he was doing wrong, insulted that Saburōta had managed to figure it out before him.

"Can you make any more noise down there?"

Misaki pouted and turned his frustration towards where Saruhiko was absently scrolling information on his laptop from above. "I probably could if you wanted me to." His tone was snarky as he bit back at his friend to reapply his coarse demeanour and conceal his rousing vulnerability. "You know, if you weren't so busy doin' nothin', I could use a little help here."

There was a sarcastic snigger in Saruhiko's tone as he lowered his hand from his smile and let it join the other against his keyboard. All the while, his sapphire eyes never shifted from his screen. "You think that all you need is a little? That's cute."

With a desperate groan, Misaki spread his arms out to either side of him and tipped onto his back against the blanket spread out behind him like he'd never risen from it. "I thought you said I made a stupid face when I was thinking about Tsukiyo?"

It was hard for Saruhiko not to sound pleased when he agreed with his troubled companion. "You do."

"Well, I don't want it to get stuck like that," he defended with a mild whinge. "Tell me how to fix it."

"You could start by figuring out if it's broken."

Misaki shot forward again with an impatient growl, folding his legs beneath him. "You know full well it is!" he commanded fervently. "It's like you want me to mess this up. You saw how she was acting the other day. It's like I don't even exist anymore!"

Saruhiko didn't move, but he did shift his sharp stare towards where his friend was flustering in a heap on their floor. He carefully observed the symptoms of Misaki's tantrum and quietly returned his sights to his computer screen when he spoke. "You jealous that someone else is moving in on your territory? Just remember who was here first."

Startled by the bold accusation, Misaki's wild hazel gaze shot back towards the sight of his instigating roommate with an expression teetering between rage and mortification. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he curtly amended. With a dim sigh, Saruhiko closed his eyes and meditated on his thoughts in hopes of finding the patience he kept locked deep within himself for Misaki and Misaki alone. When he did so, he also spared a moment to wonder when it had become an effort to tolerate the man's company. "Does it bother you?"

Misaki startled to hear the question posed so bluntly. "Ehn, well, yeah. Obviously."

Without opening his eyes, Saruhiko reached towards his laptop and gently pushed the lid down on its illuminated display. Once the humming had gone to sleep, he turned his attention entirely to the troubled man begging his assistance. "Do you really want to know what I think?"

Misaki crawled to his feet and approached their sleeping arrangements with a soft scoff, laying his hands against the rungs of the ladder that would close the distance between them. "Duh," he instigated. "That's why I asked."

Given the intrusion of his personal space, Saruhiko knew that's why Misaki had asked him for his opinion, but he figured it would be courteous to check before hitting him with the cold, hard truth. "I think she's pissed off."

Fumbling with his grip on the post he reached for at the top of his climb, Misaki quickly adjusted his hold to keep from toppling over with the impact of Saruhiko's honesty. "Wait, y-you do?"

Tsk. Saruhiko tossed his head to one side and diverted his gaze, hating how concerned Misaki became when he finally heard someone else say what he'd been repeating for months. "Yeah, I do," he reiterated frankly. "Every time there's trouble, you always go crying to Mikoto."

To the intensity of Saruhiko's tone, Misaki's expression dropped with the insult of his accusing statement. "What the hell else am I supposed to do? He's our king! He'd probably like to know if one of us is in trouble."

"How annoying," Saruhiko almost snarled. "I couldn't imagine being begged for help every time HOMRA's hunter breaks a nail." Saruhiko's tone unenthusiastically deadpanned as he cringed over his thoughts of their king. "To think, having all that power only to be bothered with something so trivial."

"Oi! First of all, I didn't beg him for anything!" Misaki demanded. "Second of all, Tsukiyo could've really been in trouble!"

Saruhiko's voice escalated as he whirled to face his friend. "And have you never noticed that you're the only one who seems to care?" His gaze focused on the look in timorous eyes as they comprehended his truth. "Tsukiyo was Mikoto-san's clansman long before we showed up, and even before that, she was picking fights with rival gangs for the Yakuza. What makes you think she needs anybody's help for anything other than homework?" Saruhiko's attention narrowed intolerantly with his aggravated fluster. "When you think she's in trouble, you make this big scene only to find out that she didn't need your help in the first place, and then all you do is mope about it. She's annoyed. You're annoying her, Misaki."

Misaki's tone cracked softly with apprehension. "That's… but I just wanted to-"

Something dark within him caused a slight grin to curl his lips as he delighted in the conflict cultivating between his clanmates, and his words were almost sung musically with a small sense of triumph. "You know what I love about Tsukiyo?" Saruhiko pressed forward eagerly, possibly a little more earnestly than he had initially anticipated. "She doesn't need anyone else. I can sit ten feet away from her and not say a thing, and she's okay with that."

After carefully considering his cohort's words for a moment, Misaki's brow furrowed analytically. "Wait, are you saying that you don't need anyone else, either?"

With a low groan, Saruhiko disconnected their gazes and lowered his voice. "What I'm saying is that Tsukiyo doesn't need you following Mikoto around and tattling on her every time she trips."

"Stop saying that like you didn't have to help keep Tetsuko in line too! It could've been bad if we hadn't shown up! Even Kusanagi-san said so!"

Saruhiko rolled his eyes and swatted Misaki's hand off the ladder, crowding him until he had to drop from the rungs for Saruhiko to take his place. "You asked for my opinion," he reminded him abruptly. "Don't act so pissed off when it's not what you wanted to hear."

Misaki stepped to the side to allow Saruhiko to climb down and continued to watch his irritable roommate cross the floor into their kitchen. "What I'm pretty sure I asked for was help," he protested callously. "Then, you just fuckin' went off on me like it was your problem, somehow."

From where Saruhiko had buried his head in the refrigerator, he scoffed and sang his impatient retort with obvious disapproval. "Oh, but it is. When you have problems playing nice with the other kids, I get to hear all about them. So, what if one of them doesn't like you? Why does everyone have to be your friend all of a sudden? Honestly, it was more interesting back when you hated her."

"Stop that! I never said I hated her!" he barked lividly. "And stop makin' it sound like we're not the same age! You're not my babysitter!"

Saruhiko's expression was void, and his tone grew bleak as he straightened with his selection, casually flicking the fridge shut behind him. "It's kind of hard to tell sometimes." He ignored the way Misaki began to tremble with anger as he popped the top off his soda and passed him by on his way back to his electronics. "Face it, Misaki. You can't do anything without Mikoto-san holding your hand. This is no different. He's not going to fix this for you, so if you want to fix things with Tsukiyo, you're going to have to do it yourself."

Misaki's expression flashed signs of hurt as he watched Saruhiko climb back up his ladder and reopen his laptop as if their conversation had never happened.

Although, Misaki had to admit that, at this point, every time he tried to run off and make his king proud, Mikoto had to bail him out. If it hadn't been for their king showing up that night at the abandoned garage, he and Neirah might have been in more significant trouble than when they'd begun. Inadvertently, that had reminded him of how much he'd relied on Saruhiko to watch his back, save for the night he had chased after her alone. That night, he owed his life to her quick thinking, the way Izumo had promised it would be, and that encouraged him to consider her likeness to his best friend. To say that his mind was simple wasn't entirely accurate, even if the conclusions he derived came somewhat misinterpreted.

With a softening expression, Misaki slowly climbed back up the ladder in silence and peeked over at the screen Saruhiko was observing so intently. It didn't make much sense to him, but it seemed to have his companion entranced up until he'd interrupted him in a soft voice. "Say, Saruhiko…?" He slipped his gaze over the tousled blankets Saruhiko had nested in, his stomach in knots to consider his conclusion. "I don't… annoy you, do I?"

The plucking of keys against the laptop stalled for a moment as Saruhiko considered his words, then, without turning over his shoulder, the clattering resumed. "Now what are you going on about?" There was notable exhaustion in his voice as he sloughed off the accusation. "I tell you you're annoying all the time, don't I? But this isn't about me. It's about you and Tsukiyo."

Misaki bowed his head, focussing on his attempt at comprehension. "Well, yeah, but it's just– You and her are pretty similar, don't you think?"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Misaki groaned his defeat and quietly escorted himself back to the floor. "Yeah, whatever," he conceded bleakly. "I'm gonna head out for some air. Do you want me to pick anything up while I'm out?"

Tipping his head all the way back to finish his beverage, Saruhiko considered the remnants before straightening and tossing Misaki the empty bottle. "Where'd you get this?"

"Huh, these?" Misaki considered the bottle for a moment before recalling. "Just that store down the road. Why? You like 'em?"

Saruhiko didn't connect their gazes as he continued his diligent toil. "Do you think they'll be open this late?"

Misaki shrugged before approaching the front door and tossing the empty bottle into the recycling. "Dunno. I can try." He laid his fingers on the skateboard propped vertically by their front door and considered Saruhiko's words. Finally, he turned over his shoulder and observed where his companion hadn't bothered to move. "Hey, Saru?"

Staring impatiently towards the ceiling outside of Misaki's comprehension, Saruhiko let out an exhausted sigh. "What is it?"

Misaki itched his jaw sheepishly with a soft blush in his cheeks over his bashful smile. "Thanks." After slipping his shoes onto his feet, he stepped through the door for just a moment before poking his head back in and offering a quiet word of caution. "You should uh… probably lock the door behind me."

Saruhiko was startled by the first words spoken to him, so much so that he turned his surprised gaze to face the gentle click of the door shutting behind his friend. He remained twisted for a moment like he was waiting for Misaki to come back in and take it all back. Then again, Misaki had been genuine from the beginning. He was a fool, but he was still Saruhiko's fool, for the meantime.

After a lonely moment of consideration, Saruhiko's aggravated expression softened despite the impatient sigh to sound in the empty apartment as he picked up his mobile phone and scrolled through the illuminated screen. He took notice of the timestamp on his message as he typed it out, but despite the hour getting ready to tick past eleven o'clock on a weekday, he still finished by hitting send.

"Oh, Misaki," he hummed grimly to himself as he turned back towards his computer. "The things I do for you."

Sure enough, Misaki's destination displayed a fluorescent closed sign in the front window as he skated through a ghost town. He knew the streets of Shizume like the back of his hand, so he didn't have to lend much thought to his direction. Instead, he was able to let his mind blank, or more specifically, wander.

The thought that had made its way into his head that time was a set of words Tomaya had said before turning himself over to the Blue King. He noted that Neirah was crying that day. By the time Misaki had seen her, there wasn't anything even close to tears in her eyes. He'd seen her sad before, angry, happy. He thought he understood her quite well, but he had never seen her cry. He considered that he should probably show concern for trying to envision the way tears might look on her face, but he couldn't. It seemed as foreign to him as tears in the eyes of his best friend.

It wasn't the first time Misaki had compared them and considered the multitude of traits they shared. They were both smart, independent, and a little ruthless at times. But where they differed was what stood out to him. Neirah loved her friends more than anything. When he moved to support her the night they had their initial fallout with Tomaya, the first thing she asked him was if Saburōta was okay. Saruhiko, on the other hand, had been frustrating for a while. He became irritable around Rikio most often, and even Tatara sometimes. It felt like he was trying to distance himself while Misaki fought for their inclusion, which seemed a little counterproductive.

But in the end, that was just Saruhiko. It wasn't new. That was the part that he understood. What continued to perplex him was that Saruhiko seemed to speak relatively highly of Neirah, like he comprehended her, or carried a potential interest. It made Misaki wonder how someone brazen enough to throw Saruhiko's scorn right back at him made the list of people worth considering his friend.

All of a sudden, with his eyes bursting wide open to realize where his deliberation had led him, a wheel on his board caught a nick in the pavement and sent him toppling face-first into the street. He quickly climbed to his feet, checking around him to see if anyone had noticed before gathering the article and scampering out of sight.

His face was hot with the thoughts plaguing his mind as he rushed his return home, eager to continue their conversation. His heart was knocking the walls of his chest in a hastened beat as his conspiracies began to take shape behind his eyes. 'That can't be it,' he mused nervously. As he approached their apartment, the colour in his face deepened to the consideration of his comrade's potential answer to the question on his mind. 'Not Saru. Not with…'

Misaki hurried towards the entrance to his home and started to dig for the keys that he had forgotten to take with him. "Shit," he muttered frustratedly. "Man, I hope Fushimi's still as lazy as ever."

He heaved a relieved sigh when he reached for the doorknob and found out that it was still unlocked. Giving it an eager twist, he parted his lips for his attempted interrogation when he entered to déjà vu.

It looked like Saruhiko hadn't moved much since Misaki had left, but joining him in his monotonous journey was the delicate woman causing the skittish vanguard so much heartache. Saruhiko was still typing on his keyboard with one hand while the other absently fondled Neirah's dainty socked foot in his lap. From where her head rested opposing his touch, she was holding a textbook, her face filled with signs of mixed emotion as she relieved in her strains but wracked her brain to consider the material in front of her nose.

Standing vacantly in the doorway, one of Misaki's eyes began to twitch with the stampeding of his guilty train of thought. "N-not Saru… Not with Tsu-ki-yo-" He quickly shook his head with a fierce intensity. "Damn it, Fushimi! I was gone for five minutes!"

"It was more like ten," Saruhiko retorted bluntly. "Not that I was counting the minutes of appreciated silence or anything."

"It's still impossible for Tsukiyo to get here in that amount of time!"

"I was in the neighbourhood."

When neither of them adjusted their gazes towards Misaki's outburst like it came misdirected, he groaned his exhaustion and padded tensely through the room. He lowered his voice but kept a suspicious spark in his observational scowl. "What the heck are you doin' anyway…?"

Neirah moaned lightly and wriggled her toes but didn't take her eyes off her textbook as she spoke. "It was busy at the bar, so Onii-san kicked me out."

Misaki tilted his embarrassed pout away from the sound of her voice, still bitter that she had completely ignored him during Saburōta's birthday and then dared to act as if nothing had happened. "I was talkin' to Fushimi."

Neirah didn't seem troubled by his dig, and Saruhiko was equally as unaffected as he responded. "She wouldn't stop bitching about how bad her feet hurt. It was annoying."

Misaki jolted to life alertly, a note of concern in his tone as he threw his finger out towards the heeled boots she left by their door. "If she'd stop wearing those stupid shoes!"

"I can see why you live with him now," she purred fondly. At first, Misaki didn't know which one of them she was addressing due to the vague nature of her remark, but, so far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to make her moan quite like she had. "And here I thought Tat-chan gave the best foot rubs. He's been shamed this night."

Misaki buried his face in his hands, trying to keep his thoughts from spilling out and making things any more awkward than they already were. "That's not why I live with him, okay!? I don't wear stupid shoes like you!" He stormed over to the base of Saruhiko's post and glared up at the casual pair acting as if anything about what they'd been up to was normal. "What are you doing here, Tsukiyo? It's late. Does Kusanagi-san know you're here?"

"Of course," she hummed casually. "I find history dry, so I thought it would be nice to have some company. Seeing as he lost interest in talking to me about it, I thought I'd come here."

It had become evident to Misaki that the reason she'd been in the area was to drop in on them either way, which didn't help him sort through their confusing situation in the slightest. With a disbelieving cock of one brow, Misaki's manner dampened with suspicion. "But you two never talk anyway."

With a soft snicker, Neirah held up two fingers for a moment until she could keep her place in the textbook with her thumb. Then, she turned to face Misaki with a surprisingly fond smile. "We made eye contact twice. We're taking our relationship to the next level."

Shuddering to the impact of her gaze locking with his, Misaki quickly rolled his eyes to distort their connection, turning entirely to hide the deepening of the pigment in his cheeks. "J-jeez, get a room, you two." Through an awkwardly devilish grin, he said the words to mock the misinterpretation of their union jokingly when Saruhiko was causing him to flinch with his rebuttal.

"Why would we do that when we had the whole place to ourselves?"

Misaki threw his balled fists down by his sides before diving beneath the top bunk of their beds to hide his flustered face. "Fine! Just do whatever! It's not like things could get any weirder around here!"

Neirah seemed indifferent to the storm of emotion rocking her seat, so with a curious hum, she was reaching out to steal Saruhiko's glasses from between his dark bangs and his concentration. "Is that so?"

Saruhiko cringed before searching for the source of her contact. "What the-"

Neirah settled the thick-rimmed glasses on her face and coiled it up with a couple of long blinks. "How on earth can you see anything with these on?"

Saruhiko growled and reached over her shins in an attempt to snag his spectacles. "Give those back, you little pest," he rumbled petulantly. Then, with a dry hiss, he chose to instigate the situation. "Look, you're making your boyfriend jealous."

With a deep bark of disapproval, Misaki straightened one of his legs and kicked it into the bottom of their roost. He lifted his forearm from the bridge of his nose and glared daggers through the sheet metal. "Oi! Not funny, Monkey!"

Misaki flinched when Neirah immediately flopped over the edge of the platform with Saruhiko's glasses still on her face, her adorably geeky look causing his cheeks to flood after he'd just settled the burn.

"Yata, is something the matter? You seem tense."

Misaki's lips tightened along with his chest, and he had to fight not to clasp the vulnerable ache. "Y-yeah, there is," he prompted edgily. "You guys are being weird."

Neirah responded with another indifferent tilt of her adorable pout, and it began to aggravate Misaki to notice how casual she was over the strain in their relationship. She was acting as if nothing had ever happened between them, and she hadn't managed to go days on end without addressing him once. "Do you want me to tell him to stop?"

"Him?" Misaki found himself immediately flinching to her aid at the sight of hands grabbing her shoulders, causing a startled yip to pass by pouty lips as she got dragged back into Saruhiko's territory. The realization immediately made Misaki anxious while he tossed a silent tantrum outside of their comprehension. Things always seemed to be stranger than usual when Neirah was visiting.

Saruhiko let a dim growl rattle in his chest as he snatched his glasses away from the woman with surging aggravation. "You think you can control me like you do the others? Think again, princess."

Neirah met his cautionary challenge head-on, quipping back with the full force of her spite for losing the spoils of her theft. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

From where he'd returned to whatever he'd been so fascinated by on his computer screen, Saruhiko volleyed her sarcasm right back. "I'm a sadist, not a masochist."

A dry snort had Neirah diverting her attention. "Well then, I can see this relationship is going nowhere, so why don't we quit while we're ahead?"

"I could do this all night."

A shrill yelp had Saruhiko raising his chin from the support of his palm as Misaki reached up over the ladder and dragged Neirah from out of Saruhiko's midst.

"Okay, that's enough!" Misaki snapped intolerantly. He shoved his hands against her shoulders, her immobile socked-feet gliding effortlessly across the floor before he pushed her out the front door. "Tsukiyo, go home!"

As soon as Neirah was on the other side of it, Misaki turned his burning gaze back on Saruhiko, who seemed to have a questioning look on his analytical expression.

"What was that all about?" Saruhiko muttered dryly.

"That's it!" Misaki barked. "We need to talk right now!"

Tsk. Saruhiko rolled his eyes at his riled friend's theatrics. "What? It's not as if you like her or anything."

"Don't say like like that!" Misaki grated through clenched teeth. "I don't gotta like her for you to be a half-decent human being once in a while!"

Neirah's elevated croon interrupted their banter for a split moment. "Uhm, my boots?"

Misaki startled alertly and quickly rushed back towards the door. "Shit! Right." He took up the boots Neirah had suggested requiring, taking a split second to consider how tiny they were before tossing them into her arms. Later, he admitted that he probably should have just burnt them and sent her home with the ashes, for her sake. But instead, he just slammed the door to dismiss her presence.

Upon joining his friend on the floor, Saruhiko rolled his eyes as Misaki stepped away, only to rush back and lock the door he'd just tossed their friend out. "Do you think she's like a vampire or something?" he prompted. "She doesn't need an invitation. She's more like a cat. If she wants in here, you can't stop her."

With a sinister chuckle, Misaki rattled the door to make sure it was secured. When he was certain she wouldn't be sneaking through it, he turned to face his roommate. "Look, I wanna know why-" A shrill cry interrupted Misaki's accusing tone when he turned to see Neirah back in the room and climbing her way up the ladder leading to her history textbook. "W-wait- What the hell!?"

"Told you," Saruhiko stated flatly.

After retrieving her schoolbook, Neirah smiled kindly at the staggered Misaki before approaching. First, she handed him her manual and spun him around. Then, while he was still trying to comprehend her defiance of natural scientific laws, she shoved him towards their front door, pausing only momentarily to unlock it before pushing him onto the other side of it. "Yata, could you give us a moment?" she sang sweetly. "I need to talk to Fushimi-san alone."

Misaki watched as her welcoming smile disappeared behind the slab, and when he heard the tumbler turn over, he snapped free of his bemusement. He tossed the book onto the floor and started to hammer his fists against the locked entry. "Oi!? How the hell did she turn this around on me!?" he thundered. "Not funny, you two! Fushimi, let me back in!"

Neirah stared into the steel slab ahead of her for a long moment, her expression bleeding of all tender humour. "I've made a lot of enemies over the past few years of my life," she began in a dull whisper. "But none of them have loathed me quite like you do, Fushimi Saruhiko."

When she turned over her shoulder, Saruhiko had stiffened, his entire body rigid like he was preparing to do battle, not converse with the delicate creature in front of him. She had instantly taken notice of his resistance, and the sight had a fond smile curling her lips. "It's too bad. I never had a bad word on my tongue for you."

Saruhiko staggered a step back to brace his stance as she approached, and realizing this, she immediately halted. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Tsk. Saruhiko stood off against the beauty with an irritated grimace on his face. "Half-right, as usual." After snapping his eyes back in line with hers, he lowered his voice to a bitter hiss. "Followed by a personal need to be the centre of attention. What I loathe isn't nearly as fixed, so don't flatter yourself."

When she parted her lips with a disappointed sigh, her tone reluctantly let slide her feelings of disenchantment. "I won't let that work." When her tone hardened with her immediate disapproval, she cut her gaze beneath thick lashes to observe the way Saruhiko challenged her instinct. "And frankly, I'm surprised someone as clever as yourself thought you could get away with it. I don't know which of us should feel foolish right now."

He turned his head away with an intolerant snort. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

Neirah sighed and padded towards him, making sure she put enough distance between herself and their rattled companion to keep him from overhearing their conversation. "I don't care what you think of me or my friends," she admitted quietly. "Your intolerance isn't going to change the way we interact in the slightest."

When she connected her gaze with his from only a few feet away, he could see the lick of passionate flames dancing behind the blue. He saw a warning and sorrow. It was quite apparent that she had caught on to his hidden intensions, which in itself had impressed him, but her reaction had been something entirely unexpected. He expected to meet with irrational violence, similar to what she had displayed on occasion to anyone else to step on her toes. But what he saw that night was so much more.

He loved her eyes. He felt like they could have conversations for days without saying a word because it was all right there. Blending shades of violet into cerulean pools of avid emotion, he watched her regret begin to soften the impact of her blow. With Misaki's words fading into his comprehension, he considered the woman with great scrutiny.

It was true, he hated her, if not just because of the way she'd prodded her way into his perfect little world. Every night he had to hear her name at least once on Misaki's lips, and it boiled his blood. She wasn't special, said the man who does nothing but gripe about how depressed he is that he can't be her friend. It was Neirah this and Neirah that day-in and day-out. She'd infected Saruhiko's life like a beautiful little parasite, and no matter how badly he wanted to cut her out, he couldn't, because he knew what her friendship meant to the only person that he could tolerate to have near.

"Don't make him choose."

On a whisper softer than he had ever heard her speak, she uttered the words that would spark a war. Half-right as usual, there were unquestionably things Saruhiko hated about the woman, like her audacity, her constant need for vindication, her irrationalities, and a generous helping of her quirks. Then, some things about her caused him to hesitate with respect to the durable, intelligent person she could be. Unfortunately, he didn't know if he could appreciate that person enough to let them into his life. Maybe he didn't mind having her around on occasion, but her company crowded the peaceful barrier he'd erected around his comfortable existence until he was the one who felt like he needed to choose. As such, he couldn't allow her to become a permanent fixture.

"You're expecting me to say something sincere now, aren't you?" Saruhiko rumbled brusquely. "Something in my defence now that you've caught me?"

"It's not required," she sassed. "But I would hear you out if that's what you needed to clear your conscience."

Tsk.

"Is that so?" She couldn't help but smile. "I've always liked you, Fushimi-san. You remind me of myself-"

"Don't insult me."

She closed her eyes, letting her head bob with a light chuckle. "-before I joined HOMRA," she continued. "I'll spare you the details because I know you don't care, but I just wanted you to know that my opinion of you isn't going to change because of this."

And there were times when he downright adored her.

"So that's it?" he instigated bleakly. "You're just flexing your claws to retract them without drawing blood?"

The look she gave him was as savage as Misaki had always dreamed she could be when her lustrous gaze met his from beneath her brow. Rolling her tongue slowly over one corner of her lower lip, she caught the soft pink flesh beneath her pearly canine before letting her lips curl into an erotic smile. "Is that what you were hoping for? Because I'd hate to disappoint."

He didn't realize how dry his throat had become until he attempted to choke down the lump tightening his chest. "I already told you; I'm a sadist."

It struck her funny that the running joke branding him as such began to take the form of truth. "We never had this conversation," she whispered affectionately. "So next time you take an interest in me, I expect it to be genuine."

"I wouldn't hold your breath." He peeked beneath his bangs to connect their gazes before finally turning his attention to where the front of his home had grown suspiciously quiet. "Is it just me, or did it get quiet out there?"

Neirah parted her lips to speak on his inspiration when she began to hear pattering against the ceiling, causing steel sheets to moan. With her lips still gawped, she rolled her attention towards the creaking rafters. "He's in the ceiling…"

"Oi! Saruhiko! I think I found where she keeps getting in!"

Saruhiko's expression dimmed as he tipped his disapproving gaze back towards the intrusive brunette standing in front of him. "This is all your fault."

"Just be thankful he's small," she cautioned skeptically. "Otherwise-"

The silence in the room disrupted rudely to the sound of ringing sheet metal buckling under Misaki's weight and soon, he was toppling from above. Like he expected something of the sort to happen, Saruhiko was ready, and when he opened his arms in front of him without taking his eyes of Neirah's, Misaki was dropping into their support.

"Something like that might happen," Neirah concluded brightly. "Not exactly assassin material, are you, Yata?"

"Shit! Great catch, Saru! That was awesome!" Misaki beamed. He tipped his head back and looked up into the ceiling with an eager song in his tone. "You know, if we tried, we could probably make that into a secret entrance!"

With a vacant expression lingering on the fiery glint of Neirah's communicative eyes, Saruhiko dropped Misaki from his arms to collapse the rest of his promised distance with a delicate yip. "I'm going to bed." Ignoring Misaki's bitter curses, he stepped over the rubble and resisted the need to smile.

A secret entrance to their secret base where they plotted to take over the entire world.

It sounded nice, but someone else knew about it too, someone that he didn't want in their world. "But seeing as you have so much energy, maybe you should walk Tsukiyo home, so she doesn't end up getting kidnapped again. That is unless you want her to stay here all night."

Misaki climbed to his feet, rubbing his aching tailbone and wincing with the pain while he watched Saruhiko climb back up into his den like a bear preparing to hibernate. "Wait, weren't you just saying something about Tsukiyo not needing-"

"Goodnight, Yata."

Misaki winced to the impact of Saruhiko's hard tone, cautioning him not to repeat the words on his lips. "Eh, well… if you say so," he muttered apprehensively. "Night, I guess."

When he realized that Neirah was still nearby and carefully examining him, he immediately straightened. "Oi! What's the big idea locking me out like that!? You made me almost kill myself with that deathtrap of your-"

"Yata? Fushimi-san is right," she interrupted softly. "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind?"

It was hard to tell what made his cheeks flood with bashful heat at that moment, but he was helpless to conceal it from her sheepish smile. "A-are you s-sure?" He quickly turned away and scratched his nape hesitantly. "I mean, y-you don't… you don't think it'd be annoying, do you?"

With a tender whisper, her sunny smile brightened her expression with welcoming warmth as she gently shook her head. "Not at all."

"Tat-chan tells me that there may have been some sort of misunderstanding between us." Neirah turned to face the sight of her downtrodden companion hiking at her side with his skateboard tucked beneath his arm for the return trip. His head hung, and his brow creased with fretful disdain as he fought to keep his composure in front of her curiosity. "Is that true?"

Misaki shifted his peripherals her way before his eyes were sliding back across the pavement instead. "I told Mikoto-san that you took off with Tetsuko the other day," he admitted miserably. "And before that, I got in the way when you were trying to talk." His strides became mechanical as he shuffled alongside her with fading ambition. "I mean, I'd be pretty pissed too."

Closing her eyes over her soft grin, she sighed her disappointment. "I'm not angry with you," she reassured bluntly. "I never was."

Misaki seemed to startle to life with his gaze brightening slightly to consider how easy it was to get her to dismiss his concerns like they were nothing. "R-really? You aren't mad?"

She tipped her slightly disheartened eyes towards his shock. "That would be pretty rude," she teased. "You're someone who cares about your friends, so to hate you for something that makes you you would be incredibly unfair." She tilted away from his unbelievably grateful expression to keep from startling him away. Instead, she emitted a blissful sigh and tipped her head back to observe the black sky above them. "To be honest, I was a little frustrated, at first, but if you hadn't gotten involved the first time, I might have had to fight one of my dearest friends." Something about the thought of Tomaya in the back of her mind had her once-fond smile fading slightly. "And the second time, when you brought it to King-sama's attention, it was his decision not to get involved. That wasn't your fault."

A look of concern darkened Misaki's features. "Hey… you're not mad at Mikoto-san, are you? For not helping Tetsuko?"

After a quiet moment had passed between them, Neirah gently shook her head and uttered a meek whisper. "No. Our king put his reign on the line for me once already. It was selfish of me to think that I could continue to rely on his assurance to solve my problems for me."

Misaki seemed startled by her admittance after he heard Saruhiko speak something similar about him not long before. "W-what do you mean by that?"

She quickly shook her head. "It's nothing," she encouraged. "What I'm trying to say is that the situation with Tetsuko was volatile, at best. There's nothing wrong with how everything played out, and once he's released from SCEPTRE4's custody, I'm going to be there for him the way I should have been from the start." Her heart began to race with anticipation as hope flushed her cheeks with a delicate rouge. "Until then, I'll just have to be patient."

Misaki watched her linger quietly on her thoughts for a bit before diverting his attention to the pressure of his guilty feelings. "Uhm, Tsukiyo… Can I- can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she hummed invitingly.

He almost wished she had of rejected him. Something about talking so casually with her still didn't seem right. It always felt estranged, like he had to watch what he said to keep from turning the situation sour. "You and Fushimi… are you two, like, alright?"

Hm? Neirah cocked her head to one side with an innocent coo. "So far as I know. What has you asking this time?"

"I just… was thinking, I guess," he admitted ambiguously. "Because, if you and Saruhiko wanted to, you know, be alone together, I could leave." It was humiliating to feel his face burn like his aura had snuck out of his control, but he couldn't help the churning of his insides to consider the intrusion. His voice became small as he whispered out his meek addition. "I don't want to be annoying."

Misaki startled to the sound of Neirah's light giggle, so he turned to face her, but when her laughter had erupted into full-bodied hysterics, he filched. "E-eh? Was it something I said?"

"Oh Yata, the very last thing you should worry yourself about is Fushimi-san and I," she sang delightedly. Realizing that she was likely insulting his suggestion despite him being encouraged to believe such a farce, she reined in her need to discourage the thought. "Honestly, though," she murmured kindly. "Fushimi-san and I are just friends." And estranged friends, at that.

Not a lot of comfort seemed to replace Misaki's uncertainty as he diverted his gaze. "You consider Saruhiko your friend?"

Neirah seemed confused by his concerned interrogation, and maybe she was, in part, a bit suspicious that Misaki had overheard a part of their conversation earlier. "You sound surprised."

"No," Misaki interjected softly. "I just hope he sees it, is all." His presence became aloof, and his voice distant as he considered her sentiment. "I mean, he's a hundred times smarter than I am, so I'm sure he does, but I guess I'm just worried about him. He doesn't seem to consider many people in HOMRA as comrades. I just don't want him to feel left out, y' know?"

When Misaki had turned his desperate eyes on her, her heart sank. She had shared a similar suspicion, especially overhearing the whispers of her senior clanmates. Being close to everyone, she knew everything, and she had grown discouraged to learn that Saruhiko wasn't overly liked. Though, she wasn't sure what she expected with the way he acted. It was quite clear that the idea of home and family skewed in Saruhiko's mind, for some reason, and even adopting HOMRA as a stand-in hadn't seemed to help him like it did some of her fellow allies.

But it wasn't fair. The look on the face of the man beside her was twisting her heart with guilt until it ached to confess dark truths to sad eyes. She couldn't comprehend how two completely different people had become so close, but she was willing to accept that she didn't realize what they had gone through before she ever met them. It was similar to how Misaki hadn't understood her. He mocked the suggestion that she had ever cried, and that upset her. Because of his misinterpretation, she felt like he was struggling to see her as an equal. She feared that she might have been one of the reasons that their relationship had become so damaged, which is why she enjoyed the quiet moments they shared on even ground.

"Fushimi-san is a difficult man," Neirah started honestly. "But I would never consider him anything less."

She saw the light return to Misaki's eyes as his smile reformed crookedly on his face, and she could feel the weight lift from his chest to the comfort of her reassuring words. It was quite apparent that Misaki had looked up to Saruhiko, for one reason or another. Maybe it was his intelligence, or his ability to converse evenly with women. Whether it be trivial or elaborate, the bond they shared was strong, and she had no intention of interfering in the way that Saruhiko had feared.

Honestly, she felt like she and Misaki wanted the same thing for their distant cohort. Both of them cherished the sense of belonging that they'd found with HOMRA, and believing that feeling could be the same for everyone, they wanted to share it. Neirah seemed to be a little more sensitive to the fact that Saruhiko didn't seem interested in the slightest, but she still hoped.

Even as Saruhiko laid alone in bed, clenching his teeth around his impatient sneer beneath the covers he hoisted over his head, Neirah hoped. Despite his need to reject the promise that one day they could all laugh together, Misaki hoped. Nothing was exciting about comradery or peace. It worried him that the spark of defiance he clung to was fading as Misaki became absorbed into a happy home without him. He felt like the three-legged stray in the cardboard box that nobody wanted, but Misaki was supposed to be down an eye. They were supposed to be two rejected pups. He was supposed to see what Misaki couldn't, and Misaki was to hunt while he hobbled. It wasn't supposed to be easy. With no challenges to overcome, life became mundane, and there was no way to grow stronger.

But the truth was that, no matter how brightly the flames burned in his hands, it couldn't set his small world on fire.