Kame

January 18th, 2010

"Hey, I hate to do this after what I said, but now really isn't a good time for me.

No. Not really. It's just our lion's gone and gotten herself sick, so she's not in a real agreeable mood.

I didn't say that. I supposed you would be interested in avoiding volatile situations whenever you could." A low snicker sounded over Izumo's phone as he clutched it tightly to his temple and turned away from prying eyes. He lowered his voice as he continued. "I have my moments."

"We can set something up once I figure out how to get her back home.

Because she sleeps better when she's around people." After a bright sigh filled with feigned irritation, Izumo shrugged his shoulders to the suggestion on the other line. "How am I supposed to know how you women think? How about next time you're here, you ask her yourself?

Hello?

Hello…?" Izumo groaned and disconnected the line that had already begun to sound with a dial tone. "Good day to you too," he drawled with a sinister smirk. "Those two sure do know how to hold a grudge."

Unfortunately, the last thing Izumo wanted was to see Seri swing by for a visit while Neirah lingered in a vulnerable state. Something deep down warned him that she might snap, lashing out like an injured animal fearing social interaction. Across the bar, she was snoozing on the rosewood top with Rikio's hood draped over her brow. He hadn't seen her wear anything but for a while, and he knew it was because that was where she found comfort. As her relationships with their friends deepened, she was beginning to take solace in momentums, which was a far step above when she used to sleep across Mikoto's lap to do so soundly. He figured that was why she had taken to ferreting away their possessions on occasion even after Saruhiko had confronted her about it.

It was becoming challenging to determine what sort of chill had nipped at their hunter's heels, and recognizing the symptoms worried Izumo that they were treating the wrong kind of sickness. "We dodged a bullet, this time. But if Neirah doesn't shape up soon, we're not going to have a choice but to go out gun's blazing."

"You said that like you think she has a choice." Mikoto cut his unenthusiastic leer across the bar to the same view locking Izumo's consideration. "You don't think she's really sick, do you?" He posed his words like a question, but there were notes in his tone that marked his anticipation for an answer as rhetorical.

There was a dark crease in Izumo's focussed expression when he considered his king's blunt command. "I just told Seri that it's none of my business to know why women do what they do, but I know fevers, and I know her." He slowly turned his violet-screened eyes back to face his king as he spoke in a low voice. "She's not burnin' up because she decided to go swimming the other night. She's doin' this to herself," he assured Mikoto confidently. "I've been noticing it for a while now, the way she always complains that her body temperatures are a mess ever since you dragged her into all this."

Mikoto's tone was even but disconcerted as he spoke. "You think her powers are unstable?"

"It's hard to touch her and try to convince yourself that somethin' isn't trying to get out," Izumo dully theorized. "And it seems to come with her ups and downs. It's a little subjective to think that her powers have mood swings as bad as hers, but you have to admit that it's strange. Anna doesn't seem to be affected this way at all." Neirah had always been a little unstable, or maybe just a bit too passionate. Whatever the case, it was beginning to catch Izumo's notice that the flames inside her had become such a staple in her life that they'd become one with each other. In that regard, the blaze had seemed to develop a mind of its own.

Though it didn't find his face, Mikoto felt a gentle pang of guilt to have put Neirah in such an unpredictable situation. He knew what it was like to have to repress emotion and power alike. It was never his intention to burden any of his clansmen that way. "Maybe we should talk to Anna," he calmly suggested. "Can't she usually figure out these things?"

"Be fair, Mikoto," he muttered exhaustedly. Izumo found it ironic that even after dismissing his ability to read the opposite sex, he still seemed to have a better grasp of it than any of his fellow clansmen. "Sure, we know somethin's wrong, but she's facing it with a smile this time. She's doing that for us, you know. She clearly doesn't want us to worry about whatever's bothering her."

Mikoto rolled his gaze to where he watched Saburōta linger quietly next to the woman sleeping on the bar with a guilty look on what was visible of his face. "Kind of hard to tell.

"Then let's put it this way," Izumo impatiently yielded. "If she wanted us to know what was wrong, she'd tell us. That's what she did last time, remember? Totsuka made sure she learned the hard way that we're here to help." Sorting through some drying glasses on the keeper's shelf behind where Mikoto was resting his arm, Izumo's tone softened considerably. "Besides, I'm sure Anna has already snooped. They're close, after all. That's how we know that we should stay out of it." He beamed slight reassurance back at his king. "If it was something to worry about, you know Anna would have said something."

Mikoto closed his eyes and huffed out a gruff snort of amusement over his smile. "Says the guy who doesn't understand women."

"I have my moments."

With his eyes strategically concealed, Saburōta kept his head facing straight ahead of him even as his peripherals examined the unconscious woman seated by his side. One of Neirah's arms were stretched out in front of her against the oiled bar, keeping her place in her math textbook as her other curled under her slumbering head. His jaw was tight as he contemplated the risks of showing concern when Izumo was hovering so closely nearby, but when he watched a pained crease tighten her brow from her dreams, he turned to face her entirely. He touched the edge of the oversized hood flopped over her forehead, raising it slightly to check on her tender features as her breathing stabilized.

A guilty shudder made him drop the soft fabric when Saburōta startled to take notice of Kōsuke approaching, but his surprise may have been because the kind man didn't get to spend too much time with them during the week. Using careful hands, Kōsuke lifted a blanket over Neirah's shoulders to keep the chill from chasing up her spine between her skin and her baggy protection. "For someone who hates the cold, she certainly doesn't dress warmly in the winter." His voice was tender as he lifted the textbook off of her hand and quietly flipped it shut. "There's snow on the ground, and she's still trying to wear that jacket."

As his hand clenched the leather laying on the bar next to him, Saburōta diverted his gaze with a heavy heart. "It's her favourite," was all he could manage. Luckily, she had begun to surrender it in exchange for Rikio's clothing, but she still couldn't be too far from its comfort.

Kōsuke didn't shift his gaze when he continued. "She's been looking paler than usual, hasn't she?" He locked his consideration on the woman and the way her breathing remained steady with sleep. "It's probably because I don't see her as often that I've noticed."

"No," Saburōta murmured discreetly. "You're not the only one."

"Why the long faces?" From where he was standing behind his imported prize, Izumo offered the boys doting upon their lion a reassuring smile. "You can't honestly believe that this has anything to do with your little swim the other night." When Saburōta snapped his attention towards the suggestion, Izumo's expression softened kindly. "Look, you don't just get this sick from the cold in one night," he educated. "This is somethin' else entirely."

"Was that supposed to make him feel better?" Kōsuke softly challenged. "Because I think you just made it sound worse."

With a casual hum, Izumo focused his attention on their sleeping beauty. Dusting his fingers beneath her bangs, he rested the back of his hand against her brow. Like he had just finished describing to their king, the feeling causing Izumo's heart to palpitate was ominous. "Totsuka said she hasn't been sleeping at home," he diverted in excuse. "That might have somethin' to do with it."

"She was pretty excited to finish up that last job," Saburōta added dismally. "I feel kinda bad… I was the one that convinced her we should just quit."

Removing his hand from her brow, Izumo returned his attention to his distraught subordinate. "Don't say it like that," he reassured. "I didn't say the cold helped. It's just downright stupid to believe she's like this because of that little stunt you two pulled in Minato." He straightened and started to run a cloth under the faucet to moisten it. "Besides, I got Yata and Fushimi to wrap things up on that front."

"I don't know if that will help either," Kōsuke humbly interjected. "Knowing Tsukiyo-san, it'll only frustrate her that she couldn't see it through."

Allowing Izumo a moment to wipe the sweat from Neirah's feverish brow, Saburōta stuffed his hands into his deep jacket pockets and uttered a sheepish response. "I can't help but feel like I'm gonna get blamed for this."

"Oh, please," Izumo interrupted. "She's not that unreasonable."

Kōsuke and Saburōta both turned their bewildered gazes to face their manager. "Did you actually just say that?" Kōsuke droned uncertainly.

"And with a straight face," Saburōta instigated.

Izumo startled mid-groan when the entryway of his bar occupied with a friendly face that had become more familiar as time passed. "Well, look who's here," he sang in welcome. "It's like you knew that Yata was out and about today. Not at all suspicious."

With a friendly chortle, Gin reached up and tugged on the hair framing his face, completely ignoring Saburōta's defensive growl. "Eh, well, you know me, Kusanagi-san. I'm just trying to stay out of trouble."

When Izumo offered him a seat at the bar, Gin was happy to approach. Unfortunately, Saburōta's attention remained fixed with unwelcoming intent, and although Gin couldn't see much of his expression, he could feel the tension crossing the distance between them. "Ah, hello!" he announced chipperly. He waved back at Saburōta from a few seats down, keeping his hand erect for a few moments before he realized that Saburōta wasn't going to do more than leer at him with rejection. "You're Bandō, uh… Saburōta! Right?"

Noticing the aggressive flinch in the unsuspecting clansman, Gin recoiled apprehensively for his failed attempt at being sociable. "Please don't hit me again!" he rushed out in submission. "It's just, Tsukiyo speaks highly of you, is all!"

Once Saburōta had given Gin the cold shoulder to care for his weak friend, Gin turned his friendly smile towards Kōsuke. He remembered that Neirah had described him as one of their non-violent members. "And Fujish-" Gin's brow twinged with malcontent when Kōsuke turned entirely without another word and abandoned the bar front. "O-oh… alright." With a heavy sigh, he faced frontwards and hoped for at least a little recognition from Izumo. "They're not overly chatty during the day, are they?"

Izumo's gentle smile didn't fade as he observed the estranged interactions between territorial men. "You caught us at a bad time," he reasoned. "Sorry, Okazaki, but I don't think our little lion's gonna be up for games today." He encouraged Gin to shift his attention by guiding it with his. He knew that the boy likely wouldn't recognize the woman all bundled up in oversized clothing to keep the cold out. "Looks like she's gone and worked herself under the weather. If you can believe that."

Gin's demeanour sank with disappointment as he watched Saburōta quietly adjust the sheet over Neirah's shoulders. "Sick? How come she didn't tell me?" His saddened gaze diverted to wonder how long she'd been feeling down. "I mean, I know she won't let me touch her, but I'm sure I still could have helped."

Izumo's brow furrowed thoughtfully as he watched Gin's expression dim. "She's still on about that, is she?"

A sad smile curved his lips to consider the obstacles of their relationship. "She won't even let me hold the door open for her in case we accidentally brush hands."

Despite his concern, a soft smile brightened Izumo's face when he shifted his view towards their sleeping lion. "Well, I can't say I'm not happy to hear that, but it's a little discouraging to think she's still livin' in the past."

"I understand…"

Turning back to Gin saw a deeper crease in Izumo's brow to instigate a continuation from the oppressed man.

"It's hard to move on when something scares you that badly," he tenderly explained. "She feels like she's hurt a lot of people that she really cared about, so if we don't have powers like the rest of you, it makes it hard for her to believe that we'll be okay. Someday, I want to help her get over that fear, but I can respect that it's going to take time."

Izumo tilted his expression to one side as he eyed the brunette suspiciously with a wry smile. "Don't make me like you, Okazaki," he teased. "You know full well that she's off-limits for the next thirteen years or so."

Perspire dampened Gin's collar as he held both palms flat out in front of his meek smile. "Ah! That's not how it was supposed to come out! Really!" he rushed out guiltily. Once Izumo had dismissed the threat in his face, Gin's tone humbled. "I meant as a friend. Like the rest of you." Growing braver, he locked his kind chocolate gaze with Izumo's warming expression. "It would be pretty neat if she could hold me in that regard. When she talks about everyone here, she acts like a completely different person."

Izumo watched the gentle rise and fall of Neirah's shoulders as his smile softened with tender appreciation. "She does now, does she?"

"It's really quite beautiful, actually." Hints of disappointment kept Gin humble, but when he turned to face his napping friend, it replaced with concern. "She does look tired." When Saburōta shifted like he might interrupt the conversation, Gin sheepishly turned away and folded his hands out on the rosewood. "But I didn't think HOMRA was as active as it used to be. Did something suddenly come up?"

The sardonic caution returned to Izumo's face as he peeked Gin in his peripherals. "What'd I say about puttin' your nose out like that? You lookin' to lose it?"

Gin shuddered a second time with a sheepish cough. "I don't mean to intrude or anything!" he jabbered. "It's just, Tsukiyo tells me a bit about what you're up to as a clan, and she hasn't mentioned much. That's all!"

Stepping across the bar to pick up the glasses in need of polishing, Izumo hummed thoughtfully. "I'm only sayin' this for your own good," he drawled. "There's a reason Neirah doesn't want you gettin' involved in all this. She doesn't want you to become a liability."

"That's lazy," Gin groaned sardonically. "I'll remember that next time she needs help with her studies."

"Do you do that often?"

Gin seemed startled by the accusation. "Well, uh… that depends," he rambled. "Are you going to break all my bones if I say yes?"

An impatient growl sounded in the back of Izumo's throat as his exhausted stare admired his glassware. "I can't imagine what would make you think somethin' like that."

"The Chitose Incident of '08 didn't help." Immediately after he had said the words, he lurched forward onto the bar and scoured the hall with worried eyes. "Oh, wait! He's not here, is he!?" The last thing he wanted to do was finally meet the man Neirah warned him to be sporadically possessive.

Staggered by his comment, Izumo gratefully recoiled when the glass he'd slammed against his bar didn't shatter under the careless pressure. "That little brat's gonna get it when she's feelin' up to it."

"We have!" Gin interrupted urgently. He settled to the sight of Izumo's waning aggression. "Not in a creepy way either, just the normal sort-of-helpful kind. Since things have been so quiet for you guys, we've been pretty busy with the books."

Carefully considering Gin's words had Izumo's chest aching with pride to contemplate how devoted Neirah had become to her studies, and for offering such encouraging news, Izumo surrendered his abrasion entirely. After a quiet moment of allowing Gin to settle, Izumo surrendered a couple of the finer details. "There's a new king in town, and he's takin' care of business in a real blue way."

Gin's expression startled with piqued curiosity. "Wait, new king?" he pried. "What happened to Suoh Mikoto-san?"

"Nothin'. He's right over there." Izumo tossed his thumb out to the side to direct Gin's attention. It made him want to laugh when he watched Gin's body instinctively stiffen to the sight of Mikoto's predatory glower watching him from across the room. "He's still the same lazy ass he's ever been." He met the enquiry in Gin's eyes with a mischievous smile. "What? You mean she didn't tell you that we aren't the only ones?"

Gin frantically shook his head in denial.

With a curt scoff, Izumo continued his explanation. "Well, we're not. On this side of the world, there are seven kings, seven clans." He closed his eyes and shrugged with an amused chortle. "Potentially," he surrendered. "I don't pretend to know everything, but I know the clan run by the Blue King is straight to business. They've been taking care of a lot of our little problems before we even have the chance to get involved."

Gin's eyes were filled with wonder to listen to Izumo speak. "A blue clan…" The disappointment returned when he slowly turned his half-lidded gaze back towards his sick companion. "No, she didn't tell me there were more of you," he whispered. Discouraged by the realization that his dreams were still far from becoming an inclusive reality, Gin turned in his seat to search the bar in hopes of diverting the subject. "I don't suppose Kamamoto-san is around, is he?"

Izumo recoiled in surprise. "Eh? No, he isn't right now, but why?"

It seemed like Gin just wasn't meant to get along with anyone the way he wanted to that afternoon. "No reason in particular," he admitted with his best attempt at keeping a smile on his face. He slowly climbed to his feet and gave a relaxed stretch. "I just thought it'd be nice to break the ice a bit, seeing as Tsukiyo isn't feeling well. We kind of got off on the wrong foot."

"You're a brave man, Okazaki," Izumo sang. "For what it's worth, I disapprove of you less and less every time you drop by."

Gin tipped his bright smile over his shoulder towards the kind drone of his host. "It's worth more than you think," he proclaimed spiritedly. "Please tell Tsukiyo I wish her well when she wakes up. She can message me anytime."

Izumo smiled kindly and waved back at the young man's departure. "Until next time, then."

Saburōta continued to glare over his hunched shoulders towards, what he deemed, the escape of HOMRA prey. "Man, I hate that guy," he growled impatiently. "Every time he shows up here, I just wanna beat him until he can't walk away."

Izumo diverted his attention and cocked a brow at his riled clanmate. "Okazaki isn't the one who dumped her in a frozen canal."

"Oi! She pushed me, okay!?"

"Whatever you say, Bandō, baby."

It wasn't until nearly an hour later that Neirah began to shift the kinks out of her body, and when she had, she let out a soft moan of discomfort. Dark lashes began to flutter as she took the noise around her into consideration with a furrowed brow, the baggy hood on her head disturbing until it fell back between her shoulders. "Hot…"

"Look who's decided to come on back to us." Izumo slightly tilted so that he could lock his welcoming expression with Neirah's rousing sights. "Welcome back to the land of the living, little lion. You'll never guess who popped by while you were asleep."

When Neirah straightened, the blanket once draped over her shoulders had slid to the floor, and she gave her sleepy eyes a gentle rub. When she took a moment to realize where she was, the concern in her expression only deepened. "Did I fall asleep here?"

"You act like this is the first time," he teased. "Mikoto wanted to move you, but Totsuka mentioned that you haven't been sleeping at home either, so he just let you be."

When Neirah turned her head, her brow was caught by her king's steady hand coming over it just beneath her bangs. "Still hot," Mikoto rumbled dimly. "Go back to sleep." He stated the words in a low command like it was the absolute answer to all of her troubles.

Izumo huffed out an exasperated sigh. "If it were that easy, Totsuka wouldn't've told you not to move her in the first place," he refuted. "Not everyone can fall asleep as easily as you can." Not to mention, he wanted to instigate that not everyone could heal with a couple of extra Zs.

"That's a shame." Mikoto bent to the side and picked up the blanket Neirah had lost in her ascent. "Feelin' any better, kid? You've been outta it for a couple of days."

Suddenly startling to life, Neirah's wild gaze pierced his casual expression with worry. "I've been sleeping here for days?!"

Dropping his head, Izumo approached and set a teacup on the bar in front of her. "I can barely tolerate you here for a couple of hours. Do you think I'd let you sleep here for days?"

With her heart rate working to settle, Neirah lowered her hand from her chest and watched Izumo pour her a hot cup of tea. "I'm sorry. That caught me off-guard. I must have still been half-asleep, but I'm awake now."

"In that case, you should probably eat somethin' before you fade away to nothing like Kamamoto does in the summer," Mikoto encouraged. "There wasn't much of you there, to begin with, so someone like you might just disappear."

When Izumo finished pouring Neirah's tea, he rolled his eyes and returned the pot to its hotplate. You know, I hate to agree with him when all he does is think about eating and sleeping, but he's actually right." Izumo leaned his hands on the top of the bar to support his weight as he continued. "Although it might seem easier in his simple world, you really should try."

Aloof, as she dug into her pocket to pull out her PDA, Neirah nodded like she was absorbing the words Izumo was speaking even if they weren't quite registering. "Wait, when you said someone came to visit-" A gentle groan filled her chest as she checked the missed messages in her inbox. There was a large number of mixed attempts at calling to go along with a generous helping of Where are you?s and Is everything okay?s. "Please tell me you didn't let anyone beat my friend while I was sitting right here, sleeping."

"Of course not." When Neirah cut her impatient leer towards Izumo, his expression humbled sheepishly. "This time I didn't," he reiterated confidently. "I was hoping to interrogate him instead."

Neirah's brow knotted incredulously. "Wait… About what?"

"Aye! Tsukiyo! You're awake!" Misaki called out brightly on approach.

From where Saruhiko was diverging courses next to his waving friend, his low instigation barely met Misaki's ears. "And she did it without the kiss of Prince Charming," he muttered dryly. "You must be so disappointed."

Misaki's smiling expression locked like his waving arm as the heat flooded his cheeks.

Izumo snorted his amusement and eagerly welcomed Misaki into their conversation. "Yata-chan and Fushimi took care of the second half of that job you and Bandō started the other night."

Misaki startled when Neirah turned her disappointed gaze on him, and he immediately attacked Izumo for instigating. "D-don't tell her that!" he scolded under his breath. "You know those kinds of things are important!"

With a gentle sigh of discouragement, Neirah diverted her gaze and laid her upturned PDA on the bar beside her. She could respond to Gin later. "It's fine," she whispered. "I'm clearly in no shape to be challenging fate right now, so I'm just glad everything worked out."

Sensitive to the heartache in her tone, Misaki cringed before enlightening to her consciousness. "But hey! Me and Rikio finally ended up hittin' Osaka the other day, after all, and we brought you back somethin'!" He rushed towards the bar not far from where she sat and flopped over its front to dig behind it.

"Don't even think about it," Izumo commanded sternly. "Not until she eats some real food."

With a defiant snort, Misaki pulled out the paper bag and clutched it against his chest to keep Izumo from snatching it back. "It's not like those stupid candies she's always eating. It's just bread."

"It's dessert."

A rebellious Misaki pouted as he considered the package. "Okay, sweet bread," he corrected. "But sometimes it's okay to have sweet things when you're sick to keep up your energy."

He raised his sheepish gaze to meet Neirah's piqued curiosity and relieving in her gentle consideration caused him to smile at her before offering the paper bag. "You said you wanted somethin' with tea in it, right? So, we got you this."

Gratefully receiving the package, Neirah peeked inside. The wafting of sweet green tea filled her senses and comforted her as she reached in to touch the sticky surface of the top matcha melon pan. Honestly, she wasn't hungry. Her stomach was bound in tight knots over the circumstance to befall her, and the last thing she wanted to do was eat. But the way her friend grinned back at her as she discovered the thoughtful gesture had her insides uncoiling.

Neirah nibbled on the inside of her flushed cheek and tried her hardest to lock the joyful squeal behind her lips. "You didn't have to do that…" she whispered sweetly.

A cocky grin curled Misaki's lips as he tossed his thumb over his shoulder to rat on his comrade. "Actually, Fushimi came too, and he was the one that reminded Bakamoto that he promised the day Tetsuko came around."

Neirah had raised her alert gaze just in time to catch the guilty shudder of Saruhiko on the other side of the room, and her heart swelled. "You guys…"

"Yeah, that's cute and all, but don't think you're going to get away without eating a proper meal," Izumo reiterated sternly. "Totsuka has Anna upstairs, but he was waiting for you to wake up before he started anything."

"Come on, Kusanagi-san," Misaki winged. "You can't bully a girl when she's sick."

"Don't you go gettin' involved too, Yata," Izumo ordered curtly. "It's bad enough that I've had to keep from threatening Totsuka to talk." He cut his peripherals from Misaki's flustered recoil to where Neirah's expression had grown distant as she returned her bread to the bag to keep it fresh. "If I find out you know something from that night you all hung out at their place-"

"I'll eat." Neirah's voice was soft and void as she spoke the quiet surrender under her breath. She turned to see her phone begging her attention with a faint light on the bar's reflective surface, but she didn't acknowledge it before continuing like she never noticed. "And then I'll be able to enjoy this wonderful dessert. Thank you, Yata."

Guiltily diverting his gaze, Misaki's expression immediately dampened with the feeling in the room. "Y-you're welcome," he murmured sadly.

Despite the disheartening tone of Neirah's reluctant acceptance, Izumo flashed her a kind and appreciative smile before speaking. "Great. I'll go get them then. You'd better start thinkin' about what you feel like now because you know that's the first thing he's gonna ask."

Mikoto watched the culpability well within his subordinate from where he lingered beside her, his expression calm but thoughts rampant with theories. When he watched her turn to recheck her phone, he spoke. "It's your old man, isn't it?"

Just as Neirah shifted her astonishment his way, his next blink delivered amber eyes to the sight of her phone screen continuing to glow by her side, flashing 'Hisashi' on the caller display. It only rang when Tatara called her, so she typically didn't notice it. This time, she was intentionally about to let the hundredth call from her father go unanswered. His next blink had his eyes meeting hers, and he could tell that she was keeping secrets. Something also told him those secrets were bad for her health.

Without pressing the matter, Mikoto reached past her and took the phone from the bar top in a tight grip. As soon as she realized what he was doing, she tried to resist with a meek whimper, but his steeling clutch wouldn't surrender her mobile under any circumstances. Despite all of her struggling, he laid his thumb against the screen and gave it a solid swipe before holding the phone to his ear.

He didn't take his eyes off her while he spoke. "Yo."

When Izumo returned from summoning Tatara, he walked in on the sight of matching mortification marring both Neirah and Misaki's faces. With quiet calculation, he shifted his gaze from one to the other before returning it to Mikoto. "What did I miss?"

Mikoto's hot amber gaze remained fixed and watched a sea of emotion tumble in Neirah's deep irises, the pigment in her cheeks intensifying. He saw anger, he saw hurt, and at the end of it all, Mikoto saw hope flickering behind the flame he'd kindled deep within on the night she took his hand.

The line stayed silent for a long time before someone finally responded to the intensity of Mikoto's deep grumble. "I-I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number." The voice answering was rough, but not in an aggressive way. It sounded sickly, which caused an unnecessary rasp to abrade an already rumbling speech.

Before the man could disconnect the call with shame, Mikoto was speaking again. "Are you looking for Tsukiyo?"

Neirah's heart stopped, and her vision began to tunnel as she got lost in the golden eyes of her king, instigating her future like he had the day they'd met. When Mikoto passed her the phone, a part of her wanted to hang it up, but something in his command kept her from being so cold.

Without cracking his fixed expression, Mikoto wiggled the device to encourage her to take it. "King's intuition," he reminded her.

Just as her fingertips touched her PDA, Tatara was joining them from upstairs and offering her a grateful smile. "Ah! Nei-chan! You're-" Before he could finish, Mikoto was holding up his hand to encourage their friend to silence while Neirah faced the challenge laid out for her by her leader. Catching the guilt in Tatara's expression to absorb the situation in an instant, Izumo grew just as confident as their king that they'd found the root of the problem.

Neirah's broadening world tremored as she lowered her widened gaze into a void where past and present collided. It was one thing to face Gin, Tomaya, but for the first time in over a decade, she heard her father's voice nervously repeating the suggestion that someone answer his inquisitive greeting on the other end of the call.

"Hello? Hello, who is this? How do you know my-?"

The entire bar seemed to silence around her as her voice cracked to speak in a tone sweeter than any of her adoptive siblings had ever heard on her lips. "D-daddy?" The line went silent for longer than Neirah could bear, but the moment she lowered the phone like she might hang up, Tatara's comforting touch was clutching her wrist to encourage her not to. Even as she felt the fear well in her throat to choke her, she yielded to Tatara's kind embrace and slowly returned her PDA to her temple, waiting for the man on the other line to speak.

"Neirah, who was that man?"

The abyss closed in around her and made her feel like she'd disconnected from the peace she'd found in the classy Shizume City bar. Just when she thought tears were going to burn her eyes, her heart went cold, and her expression hardened around her disappointed whisper. "After all this time, that's the first thing you have to say to your daughter…?"

Neirah lowered her vacant sights as she listened to him prattle on worrisomely, but she couldn't feel the sympathy once offered to Gin and Tomaya. Maybe it was her curse that saw her father suffer the most traumatizing of fates, but at least some of her victims had tried to rise above. All Tsukiyo Hisashi seemed to care about was forgetting the pain, which meant forgetting that he ever had a daughter. "I'm sorry. I have to go." Her whisper was so feeble that her audience had barely heard the heartbreaking denial of Hisashi's efforts.

She closed her eyes, her ears ringing with the empty silence befalling the bar around her as she hung up her phone to the hum of her father's pleas. In their gathering, Tatara was the one to look ashamed despite having just walked in on the altercation, and Mikoto looked the least guilty out of all of them.

When Neirah opened her eyes, she met the piercing ruby gaze of their young princess looking deep into her sorrow with sympathetic senses. Although Anna's sincere expression seemed void of emotion, Neirah felt her heart palpitate with the sensation of empathetic consideration radiating from the child that almost caused her to choke through her thin smile. "That was cowardly, wasn't it?" she sadly whispered.

Anna responded by closing her eyes and gently shaking her head. "Onē-san is brave," she rebuked just as tenderly. "That's why she can smile even though it hurts."

Misaki's chest tightened as Neirah coughed out a desperate chortle and drew Rikio's hood back up around her head, pulling the material down over her eyes to conceal her feigned amusement. "Tsukiyo… y-you okay?"

When she turned over her shoulder, spinning in her seat to face Misaki's friendly concern from beneath the protection of her borrowed sweater, her dry eyes sparkled with traces of the lies she wouldn't let slide. "Of course!"

And he wished he couldn't see them.

January 16th, 2010 12:18 am

"Thanks for helping me get her this far."

"Yeah, no prob. Just lemme know if you need anythin' else."

"That's great. Thank you!"

Tatara's gentle voice was soft to Neirah's awakening senses as she disturbed against the linens on her mattress, but Rikio's roughened retort softly grated until she was focussing more intently on processing their interaction.

She was exhausted. It had felt like she'd been running on adrenaline for weeks, and it was all crashing down on top of her that cold January night. Without realizing it, she shivered, her slender fingers balling her blankets in her hand to tug them closer to her breast. That was when she felt Tatara's tender touch disturb the hood she kept draped over her brow like he was pulling cotton away from a nesting rodent.

"Did we wake you?"

The eyes that had fluttered open had immediately slipped shut like Neirah had been lulled by the soft tone of his voice, breaking the dark around her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to."

His light laughter remained soft as careful fingers dusted the hood from her face. "What are you apologizing for?"

When she reached out to clutch her pillow tight to her face, she also drew her knees up beneath the sheets until they touched her chest. "I was a terrible host." After her bashful expression slurred a muffled apology against her pillow, she twisted to bury her face in its entirety. "No body's going to want to come here anymore."

Tatara's smile broadened even as his sad eyes watched his touch comb her tousled tresses from around her face. "That's not true at all," he reassured her optimistically. "In fact, no body's actually left."

Surrendering to her curiosity, Neirah turned one eye up out of the plush of her cushion. "They're still here?"

"It got pretty late, so I told them they could if they wanted to." His voice softened as he adjusted sheets up over her shoulders. "Besides, I know that you can sleep easier when you're surrounded by your friends." All at once, Tatara felt her trembling, and he knew that she was crumbling beneath the pressure building over her burdened thoughts. He heard her first small mewl escape, so he lowered his fingers to her face to catch her silent tears that were trying to slip past his notice in the dark. "I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong."

The tickle of Neirah's lashes against her pillow caused her to stir as she stared vacantly into the luxury. "Do you remember when I spoke to my aunt the other day after school?"

He chuckled softly to recall. "You mean when you threw one of the couch cushions at my guitar for interrupting?"

She nodded sheepishly into her pillow. "It's… it's my father." Even though she felt warm and comfortable in her bed, the icy claws of reality were intent on battling Tatara's reassuring touch for a chance at seizing her heart. But he defended it. No matter how cold the world was around her, he defended her against the frost determined to settle around her soul. It was their fire that battled snowfall until she was ready to face the truth on her own. "He's… been very sick for the past little while." When she felt Tatara's touch against her body falter, she immediately wormed closer to where he sat on the edge of her bed like she was desperate to cling to it. "But… he's been smoking and drinking every day since I was born, so I suppose… this shouldn't come as much of a shock."

From where he sat protecting her from the cold, Tatara's disheartened gaze dropped over the edge of the bed to look at the blackened floor beneath his feet. "So tonight… when you attacked Chitose."

Neirah's first sniffle attempted to stall her face from draining sentimentally, and her whisper was hardly audible against white sheets. "Why does he have to wait until he's dying to remember me...?"

Tatara's sights shifted when he felt Neirah unbury her hand to steal his touch, snuggling against it to draw from his reassuring presence.

"I don't want… my curse to become yours," she whispered faintly. "I want to protect… all of you. Always."

Considering her sleepy confession had Tatara's heart racing. "But Chitose is right," he taunted under his breath. "Nei-chan smokes too, sometimes. Is it fair to reprimand him for doing the same thing? Especially when he's not the only one."

Neirah diverted her face entirely with a bitter groan. "I don't care about me. I can't live without Chitose-kun." Her tone softened impossibly further. "I don't want to…"

With a knowing smile, Tatara sighed softly and rubbed his thumb over her tight knuckles. She was still a little loopy due to unnecessary medicating, but her feelings were genuine. They could work out the details at a later date. "I understand, Lion-chan," he whispered kindly. "But I don't think everyone's going to stop in just one night."

"I know…" she admitted vaguely. "I… wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't really anticipate to come on so strong."

He had to adjust the way his laughter sounded in the room a little louder than he anticipated. "Ah, somehow, I don't think he minded all that much."

"Is he here too? Chitose-kun?"

Tatara nodded lightly, and when he realized that she couldn't see him do so in the dark, he spoke. "Yeah. He is."

It wasn't that she doubted Tatara's honesty, but she supposed she was surprised that the floor around their already cramped apartment littered with her fellow clansmen. Saburōta and Misaki had stayed pretty close to where they'd been all night playing video games on the television. Saruhiko sat cocked against the back of the sofa in a position that Neirah could only imagine would be quite uncomfortable, and not far from where Rikio flopped on the floor near his feet.

Somehow, Masaomi had ended up with the couch, and she could only imagine what kind of confrontation she missed to decide that outcome. Then, between the coffee table they'd pulled to the side and the base of his sleeping comrade's perch, Yō was sprawled across the floor, occasionally swatting away Masaomi's arm whenever it dropped onto his brow.

Neirah's mild gaze immediately dropped as she humbled and delicately tip-toed her way around her sleeping friends. She was glad that Tatara didn't admonish her from crawling out of bed in her current state, but it was because of that state that she couldn't sit still. Her worlds were colliding again and causing strain on her over past guilt that she couldn't escape. And he was right. Whenever she was afraid, or sad, or lonely, nothing calmed her restless spirit quite like being surrounded by family.

Yō was lying on his back with one of the couch throws behind his head, his brow still knotted from the last time he'd knocked the tossing Masaomi's arm out of his face. He was moments from shooting upright and beating his friend unconscious to get him to stop disturbing him when he considered that the interruption had differed from the last. Ehn? With a faint groan, he narrowly opened a single eye and peeked to a welcome weight crawling up alongside him, obstructing the circulation in his arm until it was numbing. "Nē-chan? What-"

"I'm sorry…"

Her voice was almost too weak to comprehend, but the weight it had carried in her broken tone had his chest tightening with dismay. There was a nervous hitch in his breath as he considered her sleepy features lining his side, and after a moment, he was stealing his arm back from underneath her. She uttered a disappointed mewl to the feeling of his rejection, but it only encouraged him to smirk as he adjusted. "Trust me, I've been here before, and this really sucks in the morning," he teased her softly. "I'll stop smoking if it means I get to keep my arm."

She didn't have enough energy or spirit to smile at his teasing, but she felt it in her heart, spreading warmth throughout her body as he helped her adjust against him. "I didn't mean-"

Before she could continue her meek rebuttal, she was gasping lightly to the feeling of Masaomi's arm falling and settling his hat on top of her head with a playful grin. When he raised his forearm back over his closed eyes, his smile twisted wickedly to mock the exchange. "It's the least you could do for hogging all the attention."

"Oi, you got the couch, I got the girl," Yō defended curtly. "But I guess that isn't much different from any other Friday night- ow! Damn it, Dewa!" Yō growled lightly and rubbed the ache from his crown.

"Go to sleep, or I'll make you sleep," Masaomi grumbled protectively. "Try anythin' funny, and I'll put your lights out, got it?"

Finally, the seeds of her smile began to spread across her face as Neirah bumped her brow against the centre of Yō's chest with a faint giggle to keep from rousing their other friends. "Good night, Dewa-kun."

"Night, Nē-chan."

Nearby, Misaki was coiling nervously with flushing cheeks to the sound of heartache in Neirah's voice when she settled behind his shoulders next to her friend. He had never heard her speak so vulnerably before, with traces of tears in her trembling voice. And he supposed, it was equally as unnerving listening to the tender care coming out of his typically boisterous companions as they doted on her with their concern. It was what separated him from the rest of her long-standing friends. She had never trusted him enough to show him that side of her. Though, he didn't have the slightest idea what he would do if she ever did.

He was left to linger on thoughts of the time they'd spent together on the rooftop at sundown. Neirah had finally begun to open up to him that day, but it didn't seem to do more than crack the tip of the iceberg. She'd never let him any deeper. A part of him felt isolated by the realization that he was still trying to build them a wooden bridge with burning hands.

Turning over his shoulder once the room had settled again, Misaki let his quiet gaze steal a peek. Yō had seemed to settle back into place with his arm around the woman flopped along his side with her head resting on his chest beneath Masaomi's cap. Everything seemed peaceful and still in the humble abode, but Misaki could see it. Even though her expressive eyes hid behind dark lashes, he saw the tension binding her troubled expression as she slept. It was something more than the guilt of trying to rob Yō of his cigarettes earlier that night. All he could do as he drifted off to sleep was try and imagine what might be troubling the woman who wouldn't quite open up her world for him just yet.