Knowledgeable

March 21st, 2010

The wind was picking up, noting that spring was almost upon them, and it couldn't come soon enough, in Izumo's opinion. He retracted his hands from deep within his jacket pockets, picking a cigarette out of its packaging before pinching it between his teeth. Then, he startled, guiltily peeking over both shoulders to make sure he was alone before concealing the effort of lighting the end.

After closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and exhaled the toxin he'd let settle in his lungs. It was becoming difficult to steal a moment to himself for a smoke with Neirah around. She had become easily triggered by the habit that even she had partaken in on occasion. He wasn't supposed to know that part, but given the right inspiration, it wasn't hard to get the majority of his boys to blab. The irony of her sudden change of heart was that Izumo wasn't pleased with her indulgence from the start, and if he ever caught her with a bottle of liquor in her apartment, there'd be hell to pay. Heaven only knew Tatara would be the last of their companions to instigate something like that.

Without dropping his head from where it watched the sky above, he slowly opened his eyes, grateful for a lavender shield as the sun beat down on the quiet street. Because he was alone, Izumo allowed his expression to look sad, his lips to part until he'd nearly lost his light while he let his thoughts wander.

Izumo had never wanted Neirah to get attached in the first place, and he'd made that more than clear from the beginning. When she first looked back at him with hesitant eyes and called him Onii-san, he'd rejected the mere thought. But somewhere between then and now, he'd stopped denying her the pleasure, and even found himself considering her in similar regard. The truth was, he cared about the little brat. He cared about her more than he probably should have, given their relationship. He could deny it all he wanted, but she'd managed to bury herself under his skin until nobody could tell that they didn't share the same blood.

Unfortunately, it wasn't easy to care when all she wanted was to prove her independence. To avoid playing favourites, Izumo found himself employing the services of their swifter clansmen, Saruhiko, mainly, to keep tabs on her when he couldn't. It was a skill that Saruhiko had in abundance, and because the boy didn't seem to have much of an interest in her outside of what was assigned, he made a perfect informant. Or, he would make the ideal informant until the crafty vixen caught onto his schemes.

With a crooked smile, Izumo dropped his head towards the vacant street. If Saruhiko could learn to lighten up a little, he might have even considered him a suitable equal, or replacement. Not that he was intending on going anywhere anytime soon, but it would be nice to have someone capable of sharing the load. His bar had been playing host to minors for so long that he wasn't even sure he'd know what to do otherwise.

Izumo's smile faded moments after his thoughts began to twist again, and he stuffed his hands back into his pockets before taking another step. Carrying a bad feeling with him towards his bar that day, he wondered if there was a chance that Saruhiko could be wrong, but he could never outwardly challenge the youth's unbiased intelligence just because his passion got in the way. Saruhiko didn't act impulsively, and he didn't have an interest in contorting the story to satisfy. If he said that there was a rumour that Neirah might not return to them from Nagasaki, then there was a good chance that they were about to be down a hunter. And that didn't sit well with him.

That was the part that amused him. A little over a year ago, Izumo would have been the first one to shoo her away from the nest, begging her to spread her wings, but since, he'd taken too much pride in watching her fly. The thought of losing her warned him that he would spend countless sleepless nights staring up at the ceiling, wondering if her homework was done, if the boys were leaving her alone, or if she was managing her finances accordingly, everything a big brother should.

With a musical sigh, Izumo pulled out his keys to the front door of his modest business and mumbled his words quietly to himself. "Now, when did you go and get so tangled up in our lives?" Twisting the tumbler, he stepped into the quiet building before closing the door and relocking it at his back. The bar itself wouldn't be welcome to patrons that day, and Izumo would like to think that was because he'd needed time to live outside of work, but the truth was that he just couldn't stay away if he wanted to. HOMRA was home. It was more than a bar, more than a mark on their skin or power from their king, and it was where Neirah belonged.

With exhaustion tugging on his expression, Izumo tipped his gaze to where it met Mikoto's hunched shoulders. Their mighty king was stretched out on the sofa by the window, basking in the early morning sunlight and snoozing away without a care in the world. Something about that caused Izumo's already irritable mood to obscure.

It was no coincidence that Neirah had left paw prints on his heart because the king she so revered wasn't far from a lion himself. Tatara teased the pair, mocking Mikoto in saying that Neirah did all the hard work so he could be lazy, similar to the way the beasts might act in the wild. But Izumo saw the likeness for what it really was, a bad influence.

It was true that Neirah had picked up a little something from everyone, and he was relieved that most of it seemed to come from Tatara. However, the unintentional similarities between she and Mikoto were unmistakably destructive, not to mention, becoming stronger every day. It was a good thing Tatara seemed to pick up on new things willingly because beast-taming was undoubtedly going to be a part of his foreseeable future.

"Stop that."

Izumo flinched, snapping his lax expression back into reality with a curt gasp. "Oh, you're awake, are you?"

Mikoto groaned and flopped over on the cushions before dropping his feet onto the floor and sitting upright. For a man so lithe when he willed it, it was amusing to watch him groan as if merely raising made his tired bones ache. "I can feel you hating me from all the way over there."

Izumo cocked his head back wryly with a roguish grin. "Lemme guess, king's intuition?"

After closing his eyes, Mikoto smirked and dropped his elbows onto his knees. Part of him wanted to challenge the sarcasm in Izumo's tone, wondering what was keeping him from speaking the statement sincerely, given his past experiences with the Red King's accuracy. "You're here early, considerin' the place isn't even open today."

"I had some errands to run, so I was in the neighbourhood." Taking off his jacket, Izumo quietly stepped through the bar, tossing the leather against the counter like the effort might help him relieve some of his tension. "So, I thought I would pop by and visit our king."

"I suppose I should be flattered."

An irritated twitch caused Izumo's expression to contort as he seated himself at his bar like he'd awaited service, and he tried not to let his leader's instigating retort grate on his last nerve. When he gathered his resolve under proper management, he spun to face Mikoto squarely. "Actually, if you're not too busy, I thought I might have a word with Your Highness."

"Uh oh," Mikoto muffled from behind the cigarette he'd just kindled. "You only say it like that when I've royally fucked up."

"It's about-"

"About the kid, right?" When Izumo hadn't continued, Mikoto climbed to his feet with an exasperated groan. "Yeah, I figured." Expecting to see signs of confusion on Izumo's face, he wasn't surprised when he raised his head to meet the silent calculation of his companion. Equally as predictably, it wasn't a moment later that the perplexity on his face was fading. Anna didn't talk a lot about what she saw in other living creatures unless she thought it was important enough to act upon, but she didn't want to lose her big sister. In that sense, it was no surprise that Mikoto was kept in the loop.

Dramatically tipping his head to follow Mikoto's slow pace caused Izumo's brow to knot with discomfort. He watched Mikoto circle the bar to grab himself a glass, but when the man disappeared into the kitchen, he had to straighten his craned neck. "That ability of yours sure is somethin' else," he drawled. "Is mind-reading something that comes along with being a king?"

It took a generous amount of self-control for Mikoto to repress the desire to challenge that Izumo knew more about the slate and its dealings than he ever cared to. But when Mikoto exited the kitchen, his face was tipped behind the glass he'd just filled. After he straightened, he met the intensity of Izumo's gaze without hesitation. "No, you're just that easy to figure out," he surrendered in a low rumble. "You're a nervous wreck when it comes to that kid. It's great, actually." His sinister beam only tightened with the sarcasm he droned to rile his friend. "Seeing how you spent so long pretending not to care."

The irritation in Izumo's face became so tight that he had to lean against his bar and rub the ache from his brow, reminding himself that he was falling right into Mikoto's sadistic trap. It wasn't like the game was new to him. "If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times," he reasoned. "I didn't want any of this for her to begin with, but seeing her become more like you every day is what really pisses me off, and you're not doing a damn thing to prevent it."

Their roles had reversed when Mikoto stepped towards the bar and set down his empty glass. "Oh, come on. Is that really such a bad thing?" He softly growled when Izumo snatched the cup in order to slide a coaster beneath the condensation that was threatening to puddle against the hardwood. "Shouldn't you be happy?" he persisted. "I mean, isn't that what you all wanted? To not have to worry about our girls? It's got nothing to do with me."

"Give me a break," Izumo commanded redundantly. "Did you forget that she's doing all this for you? Or did you not notice in the first place?"

"Can't see it."

Izumo's slackened posture wound with impatience as he edged towards the bar across from his king. "She's doing this to repay whatever debt she thinks she owes you for giving her power."

A playful grin curled Mikoto's lips as he leaned closer to challenge his comrade's advance with both of his palms flat on the polished bar top. "You seem tense. Want me to mix you somethin' to help take the edge off?"

A bitter groan filled Izumo's chest as he folded one arm in front of him, bringing his second hand to his face to hold the cigarette he sucked on. Once he'd closed his eyes, he silently counted to ten before exhaling the smoke he'd retained and prepared to reason with his snarky ruler. "Just because you're unhappy with how your fate turned out doesn't mean you have to drag a promising young lady down with you," he cautioned bluntly. "Don't take this out on her."

Mikoto's teasing expression humbly softened as he picked out an ashtray from behind the counter. He seemed to ponder Izumo's words for a moment when he offered it before he finally spoke in an attempt to divert the subject. "You've been in big brother mode for a while," he suggested keenly. "If you keep it up, you're actually going to start believing you're related."

"I already had that moral epiphany earlier this morning, so tell me somethin' I don't know."

Mikoto's smile grew more genuine as their conversation continued. "So, you did it then?"

Without opening his eyes, Izumo returned his cigarette to his teeth before reaching into the mickey-pocket of his discarded coat. When he managed to dig the envelope out of the concealment, he slapped the papers down between them. "Of course, I did." When he roughly sat back in his seat, he folded his arms across his chest with a dull snort. "Like hell I'm lettin' my kid sister take the train all the way out to Nagasaki."

Realizing that Izumo wasn't going to show him any mercy that morning, Mikoto heaved a weary sigh and turned away. He braced his hips against the bar, watching the reflection of the morning light dance on various shades of glass liquor bottles arranged on the wall. "So, what do you want me to do about it?" he quietly interjected. "You give me shit at least once a week, but I don't see how any of this is really my problem."

Izumo finally opened his eyes, staring down at the thin envelope placed between them. "Truth might be that I just need someone to blame, and you're an easy target," he admitted ruefully. "Not sure what else there is to do now that the damage is done. You made her your clansman, and that's a damn shame, but now that she's here, she's just part of the family."

"What do you think would've happened if I didn't?" Mikoto instigated. "Where do you think she'd be now?"

Izumo's gaze tapered with pressure denoting his disdain. "Don't ask me to think about that," he muttered despondently. "I just need to be mad for a bit."

Mikoto continued to watch the refracting light catch his fleeting peripherals as his thoughts ran rampant. He knew that Izumo tended to get upset when Neirah was involved, but something about his second's defence had struck a chord within the king. It must have seemed silly, from their point of view, that he could resent power. But it baffled him that no matter how much power he'd been granted by the slate, it couldn't achieve him the freedom he desired. Life just seemed like a game where everyone had to play by somebody else's rules.

If Neirah was indeed anything like him, she wouldn't find the peace she was looking for in Nagasaki, just like she hadn't dug it out of Minato harbour against the Yakuza the year prior. She chipped away at links in a chain she couldn't comprehend, still ambitious enough to dream of the sound the last one made when it shattered. But Mikoto knew better. The chain was longer than any one lifetime could chase, and it could cage even the wildest souls.

But she still hoped, where he'd long surrendered. Even if she felt trapped, she fought against her binds. She'd been fighting since the day they'd met her, and her struggle rekindled his hope that someday, they'd find the end of that chain together. But it wasn't going to end with Nagasaki. Call it king's intuition.

"It's funny to talk about being unhappy with the fates we claimed to make our own." When Mikoto felt Izumo shift his attention by his back, he sighed. Izumo wasn't laughing, and he'd been far from considering Neirah's well-being a joke. "But the truth is, those chains will keep trying to pin us down and remind us that we've gotta keep fighting." He turned over his shoulder to face Izumo's curiosity. "What's worse? Watching her fight alongside people that she cares about, or kickin' her back onto the streets to play by everyone else's rules?"

Mikoto laughed through his nose, which made the provocation sound derisive. "You seem to keep forgetting that I turned her away the night Totsuka first dug her out of that alley," he calmly reminded his colleague. He diverted his amber leer vacantly to one side as he recalled the memories. "That's when I saw it, a fire in her eyes before she'd ever touched me, and I knew she was a fighter."

Izumo's gaze was vacant as he stared into the abyssal space between them with his fingers clutching his smouldering cigarette to his face. "Then, that was the hope you were talking about."

Mikoto closed his eyes and stepped away from the conversation to circle the bar, his thoughts troubled. "I'm not sayin' that I know the kid any better than you do, but I think it's wrong to just assume that this isn't what she wants."

Izumo's stomach churned as he forced a dry swallow down his throat, carrying the guilt of his knowledge on his shoulders. "That kid doesn't have a damn clue what she should want," he muttered despondently. That was why he resented Mikoto's unintentional influence on her so avidly.

"And who are you to tell her otherwise? Who am I?" Mikoto stopped in his tracks, his hands deep in his pockets as he stared forward into the void of his thoughts. "Ever seen a lion in a cage? If you look it in the eye, there's no fire there. The fire comes from the fight, its instinct to survive and make the world bow to it." With a slow blink, he quietly raised his gaze towards the quiet street on the other side of the door ahead. "Isn't that why Totsuka gave her that name in the first place?"

All Izumo could do was quietly refute the comparison with the information he'd recently received. "Maybe she doesn't want to be an animal. She's grown up a lot in the last couple of years, in case you missed that too, so maybe she's finally figured out that the world is more complicated than you would make it out to be."

Mikoto didn't seem to absorb the intended insult from Izumo's callous rebuttal. "Maybe," he mockingly agreed. Suddenly, a sinister grin was curling his lips to consider Izumo's parting words. "But this is still what she wants, so you should probably just heed your own advice and get used to it." A gentle chortle of amusement caught in his throat to consider the rattled man at his back, unaccepting and stressing over a fate that was entirely in Neirah's control. "She made this her place. You said it yourself." She was making it what she wanted it to be.

He slowly turned to face Izumo, his hands in his denim pockets as their gazes locked. "You say she's like me, but that's not true. She's better than that. She'll chase those links until there's nothing left to fight, and when she's lookin' down on us from the top of the world, even kings will kneel to our little lion's roar."

As confident as Mikoto sounded in the young woman facing the most confusing years of her life, he couldn't feel comforted. Instead, he felt even more discouraged to think that they had trapped her in such a bleak cycle. "Is that really any way to live?"

"When you're a king, it's the only way to live."

Izumo's gaze tapered with impatience as he stared at the ground, and when he tipped his head to meet Mikoto's casual presence, his last nerve severed. "Neirah is not a king."

It was a delicate snort, at first, but soon, Mikoto was rumbling a low wave of laughter. "I guess you're right," he hummed in defeat. "But that's why I get this funny feelin' that she'll be better than me."

"By better, you mean-"

"She'll make it," Mikoto murmured fondly. "She's gonna find the end of that thing and burn it. She'll set the whole damn world on fire if she has to because that's what she wants. It's not for you, or me, or even Totsuka." Mikoto had felt choked by the collar the Dresden Slate had cinched to his neck with a glossy nametag reading King, but Neirah was unbound. A king had enabled her, but once Neirah set her mind to something, not even a king could stand in her way. In his eyes, the only weakness she had was in her own fragile heart, but when it burned, she was unstoppable. Whereas Izumo seemed to resent that, he thought it was a beautiful thing.

Mikoto smiled and slowly started for the door, accepting that they might never see eye-to-eye with their surrogate parenting styles. "Just remember, the next time you decide to ride my ass about keepin' her around, I tried. But you know full well that Totsuka wouldn't've let me hear the end of it if it went down any other way. If you wanna blame someone, blame him."

Izumo snickered softly under his breath. "He does seem to hold the reins around here sometimes, doesn't he?"

Resting his hand on the front doorframe, Mikoto turned his lethargic expression back to face his friend. "I'll talk to her if it'll help you sleep at night."

Izumo smirked. "Same time next week?"

"Yeah…"

Izumo watched Mikoto leave, but he wasn't sure that their talk had made him feel any better. If nothing else, he managed to vent some of his frustrations against a durable target. From what he recalled, Mikoto didn't often vocalize his opinions on their fellow clansmen and their business. Everyone had a story, and their king respected that, but it was their story, not his. Mikoto never intruded on their pages, but Neirah's seemed to be a different story entirely. It made Izumo wonder if maybe he wasn't the only one who took pride in the woman she had become.

"So, little lion…" He laid one arm on the top of his bar, reaching to take the envelope in his hand before tapping its edge against the rosewood. "When did you go and get so tangled up in our lives?"

It was nearly noon before Mikoto had managed to slink away from Izumo's insistent nagging and take in the sight of his kingdom. The streets of Shizume were already wide awake and active, but he'd bet that at least half of his pride was still flirting with their dreams. Sometimes, he even chanced to wonder what they saw. It wasn't that he didn't care about their hopes and aspirations, but his mind was typically too distracted to focus on any story too intently. Some days, it seemed like the only part of him that had any freedom to run.

An exhausted sigh heaved from his chest when he closed his eyes and dropped his head like just thinking about his promises made him queasy. He told Izumo that he'd speak to their little lion, but the mere consideration was arduous. Something assured him that Anna wasn't going to be nearly as wild as she matured, but he didn't doubt that she would make them any less proud. She was sweet and mild-mannered, quite the opposite of the dynamic sadist she called sister, but she shared the same big heart filled with aspiring hope. There was no doubt about it. Their girls were special, and a force to be reckoned with.

"Shit… The fuck did I leave it this time?"

Hm? Mikoto alerted, raising his attention from the sidewalk towards the bitter cursing of a man struggling to find his lighter in his black leather jacket. Once his golden eyes had met the amusing sight of the man's distress, his lips curled around his cigarette until he approached with a satisfied smirk on his face. "Need a light?"

Tomaya immediately straightened, his senses perking attentively to the low rumble at his back, and he quickly whirled to face its origin. Sure enough, he turned to the sight of Suoh Mikoto standing casually with a cocky grin on full display. When approached with the irony, Tomaya couldn't help but snort his amusement. "No shit," he sassed. "Gonna make me beg for it?"

Mikoto slowly approached and ignited his thumb, holding it out towards the flustered Strain in welcome. "Nah, I got my fill the first time."

With a defiant growl, Tomaya swatted the generous man's hand away with the back of his, flashing the sight of his scars before nursing his burning butt to life. "Don't test me, Suoh," he cautioned. "Dunno if you've noticed, but I've got a bit of a temper, and right now, if I so much as look at someone the wrong way, those bluecoats are gonna jump down my throat."

Mikoto cocked his head to one side curiously, somewhat whimsical in his approach. "And here I thought you were a free man."

Tomaya snorted. "As free as you can be with those cocky bastards watching your every move," he groaned. He retracted his cigarette and raised his gaze towards the vast, cloudless sky above them. "Not exactly a glamorous life, but so long as I don't miss curfew, they won't lock me up like a criminal." The intensity of his expression mildly softened as he turned to face the Red King with a mischievous grin. "But that's fine. The only reason I even wanted these abilities in the first place was to make you eat dirt." He snickered impishly and diverted his attention when he returned his poison to chapped lips. "Now that we're cool, they're yesterday's news."

Mikoto bowed his head with a gruff snort. "Too bad. I was lookin' forward to a real fight with you someday."

"Oh yeah," Tomaya derided. "I'm sure that's exactly what those shitheads at SCEPTRE4 want too. You're not workin' for 'em, are you? 'Cause it'd be a damn shame if I had to give up that one shred of respect I found for you back then."

A dim scoff challenged Tomaya's sincerity. "Now there's an unpleasant thought, but no. In fact, I'm pretty sure if Munakata had a reason to get involved with the both of us, he'd probably drop dead for all the excitement."

Tomaya nearly choked on his next deep inhale. "Pft, well shit. What're we waitin' for then?"

Mikoto joined Tomaya in deriding their mutual rival. "Unfortunately, even the thought of a dead Munakata makes me wanna gag," he admitted dryly. "I'd rather not think about him at all if that's an option."

When Mikoto started walking, it was slow and casual, offering Tomaya the chance to join if he so wanted. Surprisingly enough, he did, and with little encouragement. "Yeah, that's right. Nei-chan mentioned that you two don't get along. Big surprise there." He grunted. "Just a couple of months in that place made me want to stay on my best behaviour, hoping that I never have to see him again."

"He must be devastated."

"Fuck if I care." Tomaya growled and wrinkled his freckled nose before picking his light from between his teeth, tapping the ashes on the ground. "You two can duke it out all you want, but I'm done. I learned a lot during my stay, and I'm washin' my hands of all of it."

"Must be nice to be able to just walk away."

Hnh? After watching Mikoto continue to trudge by his side, without repeating the statement Tomaya had questioned, he shrugged his shoulders to dismiss his interest. "How's my Nei-chan doin', anyways? Last time I saw her, she looked worse than I do, and I'm a goddamned insomniac."

Even though he didn't connect their gazes, Mikoto couldn't help but let a small laugh escape his centre. "Aren't you prince charming."

Tomaya rolled his eyes with a devious smirk. "No, I'm the dragon, remember?"

"She's got you on about that too, huh?"

"Yeah. She told me what the scrawny fuck in the glasses said about the whole shebang." After running his disfigured palm through his thick ginger bangs, Tomaya turned his complete attention towards Mikoto to examine his indifference. "Seriously, though. She looked like she hadn't slept for a month. And not that I'm sayin' I'm a real interesting guy, but she at least tried to pay attention to what I was sayin' before." When he dropped his hand back by his side, a low and defensive growl filled his once casual tone. "Yo, if I find out you assholes are workin' her to the bone-"

"Her old man's on his deathbed; has been since the beginning of the year," Mikoto murmured dismally. "She's takin' off to Nagasaki this summer to see him for the first time in a while."

Tomaya's expression immediately dropped as he absently flopped his cigarette between his lips. "Shit… that bad, huh? Oh well. The guy was a prick anyway." With a hearty sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and diverted his amber gaze toward the ground. "Bet the guilt of that one's eatin' her alive."

"She'll be fine."

The Strain nearly tripped over his own feet to hear Mikoto refute his concerns so casually. "Whoa, that was fast," he remarked. "You even know what I'm talkin' about?"

"Her curse, right?" Mikoto offered the man a mocking smile. "Don't tell me you buy into that crap."

"I don't have to for her to live her whole damn life around it," he derided. "That kid'll apologize for being born if you let her."

"Then stop letting her."

Hm?

"It was good to see you're still kickin' around," Mikoto announced casually upon parting. Without looking back, he raised one hand from his pocket to wave at Tomaya. "We'll go at it one day. Until then, don't let that pretty-boy Munakata boss you around too much. I'd hate to give up that last shred of respect I found for you back then."

Through a sinister beam, Tomaya picked the cigarette from his face. "You're my kinda asshole, Suoh," he purred fondly. Even after Mikoto had left him behind, he still couldn't look away as he dropped his arm to his side and tapped the ashes from his smouldering toxin. "You coulda been my king."

Getting the best angle in the small areas around the bar mirroring her reflection had caused Neirah's neck to ache from craning so dramatically. When she finally managed to peek her furrowed brow, she raised her fingers to her scalp and began to comb her wild bangs with her fingernails. As her tresses flattened tamely along her forehead, her cheeks started to flush with colour, and soon, she'd clawed them to their dishevelled origins like she'd resented their tidiness.

Nearby, Misaki's jaw rested in his raised palm, and his tapered gaze was dubious as he examined her from a table nearby. She'd fluster, scratch away her style, settle her nerves, and then moments later, try something new. He was becoming exhausted through merely watching her, and soon, he couldn't help but intervene. "You think your hair's gonna make a difference?" He didn't retreat from her disconcerted disturbance linking their gazes from across the room. Instead, he let the silence drag for a moment, not seeming to comprehend how casually he'd managed to address her. "It looks fine the way it is, and if he doesn't like it, just tell him to go fuck himself."

The impact of his words had Neirah stiffening, a surprising chill racing from her toes to the tips of her ears even as she felt the temperature in her face skyrocket. Her wild gaze focussed on his unexpected sincerity, and as startled as she was to notice his expression had remained void of humour, it also didn't seem to contain doubt. Honestly, the genuine compliment had left her staggered.

Noticing the discomfort making Neirah's already squirmy conduct twist, Misaki repeated the sentiment in his head a few times until he'd realized just how awkward it must have sounded. Then, he started to linger on the thought that his words might have come off as insensitive to her when considering her father's ailing state, but the more he thought about apologetically retracting the statement, the more his face contorted with humiliation. "A-ah I m-mean, well-"

Neirah's smile glowed sheepishly wavy as she thrust her palms between her thighs and wriggled in her seat. "It's alright," she whispered. "That's always been one of my favourite things about you. You always say what's on your mind, and I appreciate your honesty." Growing a little surer of herself by his inspiration, she quietly returned her gaze to his and comforted him with a fond grin. "You're absolutely right. It would be pretty petty of him to disgrace his only child just because he didn't like her hairstyle."

Misaki leaned back in his chair, trying to play off the mawkishness in a way that made him sound less like he was trying to compliment her and more like he was trying to demean her father. "W-well, yeah. That's why I said it."

Her smile humbled even further to watch him stammer out a defence, her chest aching with the fondness she felt for the support of her comrades. It was something that she would miss if there ever came a day where she couldn't laugh with them. But something about Misaki's blunt approach also gave her hope that maybe she could show a little tenderness without becoming a burden to her allies.

Suddenly, Neirah became distracted by the sight of her king entering the bar, and she could only imagine he'd just returned from his morning walk that typically didn't start until sometime around noon. She met his casual grace with a respectful smile and a gentle bow of her head. "Good afternoon, King-sama."

Upon her inspiration, Misaki slammed his hands down on the table in front of him and whirled in his seat to face their visitor. "Yo! Mikoto-san! Welcome back!" he announced brightly with a firm nod of his head. "Pretty great weather, huh? It's totally getting warmer out there!"

Shrugging indifferently, Mikoto turned his eyes on the sight of Neirah sitting at the bar. After confirming that she was alone, save for Izumo and Misaki nearby, he addressed her in a low tone. "Totsuka not with you today?"

Neirah laughed at the irony of his consideration. "Actually, he and Anna-chan went to track you down not ten minutes ago," she teased. "I would say, by the looks of it, they were unsuccessful."

"Then what'd ya say we go after them?"

It was hard to tell who was more startled by his easy command, Neirah or Misaki, and as soon as Misaki's ears intercepted the invitation, he was scrambling eagerly to his feet. "Ah! Mikoto-san, I'll go with you! I think I even know where they're-"

"Yata-chan, if you're not busy, I could use a hand over here." Izumo cast Neirah a kind smile before nodding his head toward their king. "You go, Neirah. You're not much use to me if all you're going to do is sit around and twirl your finger in your hair all afternoon."

With a curt snort, Neirah turned and stuck her tongue out at her self-proclaimed sibling. "That's fine. I didn't want to help you, anyway."

"But Kusanagi-san-!"

"Come on, Yata," Izumo instigated knowingly. "I think Mikoto and Neirah can handle this one on their own, so let's get to it."

Even as Neirah passed Misaki with an apologetic grin, she couldn't help but follow his charge towards Izumo. There was something strange causing her insides to knot as she watched the insightful gazes pass between Mikoto and Izumo. She felt like she'd been set up. There was actually a good chance that Tatara or Anna had been involved too, and something about that made her stifle a bitter groan of betrayal. It wasn't like her king to take her by his side like Tatara or Izumo would have, not unless they were up to something.

Misaki watched his comrades depart, focussing entirely on their absence rather than the task he had been assigned. His unnaturally craned neck had been so jarred by the swat he'd received from Izumo that he yelped at the sharp snap to twinge in his cramped muscles.

"Don't be nosy," Izumo commanded quietly.

"Eh!? Yes sir…"

Nothing about what was happening seemed typical, and it made Neirah feel uneasy. It wasn't the first time that she had been left alone with her king, but something about the circumstance and the silence falling between them as he led them down the street was unnerving. It reminded her of the first time their company had been arranged. From where she'd wandered a step or two behind him, she subtly raised her eyes to peek his unyielding expression before lowering them like she thought it was disrespectful to pry. Although Mikoto had never given her a reason to feel beneath him, she did, and being asked to his side alone made her feel like a child being separated from her rowdy friends for a scolding.

Finally, she couldn't linger in peace any longer, so she offered a soft coo of advice. "King-sama? If you want to find Anna and Tat-chan, I know the places where she likes to-"

"I think you already know that's not what we're doing."

His flat announcement hadn't helped her nerves in the least. Instead, she found her steps ceasing entirely, leaving her wild azure gaze to watch him continue to walk without her in his shadow. "I-"

A gentle smile curled Mikoto's lips to consider the first time he'd intervened in her life. She'd come a long way from the girl who panicked at the mere thought of confronting her fears, but there were still some similarities. "If you stay all the way back there, you're gonna get left behind, don't you think?"

He didn't pose his statement as a threat, or a command, but her feet felt compelled to move, and they did. Lengthening her stride, she caught up to him with her heart lumped in her throat.

The silence resumed for another while before finally, Mikoto interrupted her anxious thoughts while the wind raced past them. "You sure you're not too cold?" he murmured casually. "You complain about that a lot, considering you have my powers."

Neirah's cheeks dusted in a pale rose as she dropped her gaze towards her toes and whispered her timid retort. "O-oh… that."

After closing his eyes, Mikoto hummed a thoughtful sigh filled with fatigue. "Kusanagi's pretty worried about you," he divulged. "Says your powers might be unstable."

Shocked from her guilty thoughts, Neirah jerked her attention directly towards Mikoto's shoulders. "U-unstable? How?"

"Tell me what it feels like," he strategically interrupted. "My flame. What is it to you?"

Neirah raised her hands in front of her, examining her empty, upturned palms through a knotted brow as if the consideration vexed her.

"You're taking too long."

When he interrupted her deep consideration, she vocally yelped and drew her hands into her chest. "I'm sorry," she prattled worrisomely. "I didn't mean to."

"Try again," he ordered gently. "This time, just say the first thing that comes to mind."

Neirah's brow furrowed again like she was going to consider the question thoroughly, but then the knot unbound, leaving a tender smile on her lips. "Then, it's hope." She clamped her teeth around the inside of her cheek and let herself think about it some more after she'd satisfied his inquiry with a diligent response. "A powerful, unyielding hope that tomorrow will be better than yesterday."

Mikoto didn't look back at her, but his lips did curl into a triumphant smirk. "Yeah, I thought you might say something like that."

Hearing him speak about her situation so casually had a small bit of her courage returning. She lengthened her steps to reach his side, pressuring him to explain himself. "I don't understand," she murmured. "Have I done something wrong?"

Mikoto addressed her concern with the slow shake of his head. "Unlike some people, I don't think there's a right or wrong way to wield power," he admitted blatantly. "Some people see it as a tool, some, a cage, and to others, it's just a part of who they are." He finally turned over his shoulder to consider the wonder on her face. "Sorry, kid. I dunno how comforting that is, though."

Neirah let a weak smile find her lips as she diverted her bashful features. "So, in other words, it's not my power that's unstable… it's…"

"But that's why you're takin' this trip." He tipped his gaze toward the sky, watching the jet stream of an aircraft line the crystal-clear blue. "You've gotta settle your business on your own terms, just like you have to figure out what that fire in your eyes burns for."

Neirah stilled, barely keeping her feet mobile when his words struck her with realization. "Y-you…" she whispered faintly. "How did you-?"

Hn. Stopping in his tracks, Mikoto turned his wry smile to face where she'd arrested. "King's intuition," he reminded her softly. They stood off in the quiet street for a moment, letting the wind whisper through the tunnelling infrastructure around them before Mikoto finally spoke again. "You need to see it for yourself; what makes you burn. That should keep the cold away."

The world is so cold, but our fire keeps me warm.

"Once you do that, you'll know where it is you really belong." With an even sigh, Mikoto slowly turned away from her and let his eyes follow the wisps of wind raising street dust towards the vast yonder. "Y' know, there're some people who say you move like the wind," he informed her softly. Realizing who he was speaking to caused him to snort and drop his sardonic expression. "But I'm sure you already knew that."

"I think… it's because I move quickly."

"You do, don't you? And you never stay in one spot long," he concurred rhetorically. "Especially when you know what you're after, and then nothin' can stop you."

She ground her molars together and tried to keep from trembling like she was facing an undecided goodbye. "King-sama…"

"How many times am I gonna have to tell you not to call me that?"

All she wanted to do was assure him that he would have a thousand more opportunities to continue once she'd returned, but she couldn't get her jaw to unbind. In the end, only meek whimpers emitted in hushed tones.

"So, you're wind and fire," he muttered confidently. "But flames don't whimper like that. They should roar, right, Red Lion?"

"Lioness…"

Hm? Mikoto rotated and locked his gaze with the hesitancy of hers.

Neirah's lips began to tremble as her indecision choked her words. "Lioness because… I'm a woman."

When his sharp amber gaze softened almost derisively, his reassuring grin caused her to shiver. "Does it matter?" Once he had stricken her into silence, he'd dismissed himself from the conversation by turning and starting away.

"Burn," he muttered coarsely upon departure. "Burn until the cold can't touch you." Whereas the fire inside him was no better than a beast to be contained, Neirah had made her flame a part of her. She faced a lot of uncertainty in her near future, a fate that may be cruel enough to steal her from the family she'd found. But, he knew, if she saw the freedom to dance on the whirlwind carrying her through life, she would return stronger, one step closer to making fate her own. "And then, burn some more."

Alarmed that she felt like she had somehow let him down, Neirah was frantic to try and form words, to express what his understanding meant to her. It was simple, and forward, but the words seared into her heart and caused her chest to ache with devoted purpose. "King-sama, wait!" she begged. "I just want you to know-"

"Tell me when you get back."

She startled, remaining rooted when all she wanted was to chase after him and beg him to hear her heart.

Mikoto didn't connect their gazes again, because something told him that he would have plenty of opportunities in the future. "I don't have a real great attention span for these kinds of things."

After his final remark, he'd left her standing in the quiet street with her chest aching and eyes burning with tears she couldn't let fall. All the while, she lingered listening to the wind whistle through the structures on either side of her, considering the unlikelihood that he could predict her returning for sure. Then again, the intuition of a king was uncanny, at times.