Kannon

"What consequences?" Saruhiko muttered under his breath. "I never liked you in the first place, so it's not like it could get any worse. And those idiots back at HOMRA? I'm pretty sure they're always going to be a pack of wild dogs at your heels. That's what you wanted to hear, right?"

Upon his arrival Misaki, slammed up against a brick wall, concealing himself in an alley near to the conversation he'd rushed urgently to attend. His original intention was to interrupt it, to make sure that Saruhiko hadn't said anything that might scare Neirah out of their lives, but by the time he laid eyes on their unsettled expressions, he felt like he was already too late.

"Go," Saruhiko commanded frankly. "At the very least, I don't have to look at you for the rest of the summer."

Wild eyes watched in sheer horror as Saruhiko's fangs injected the venomous words under Neirah's skin. Every short breath began to tremble as Misaki burned with destructive energy, his thoughts running rampant. It was clear that Saruhiko had already rejected Neirah's presence, and the belief that he could do so as callously as he did, turned Misaki violent. Even if Saruhiko didn't have a romantic interest in the woman, she was still their friend.

Such disputes weren't tolerated among them; that's why they worked so hard to sort out their differences. Sure, they argued from time to time, but at the end of the day, they were a team. Misaki had put forth more effort than he knew he was capable of to come to terms with the woman to avoid the situation about to unfold regardless.

"It's settled then… I guess tomorrow I face my fear of flying."

"Are we done?" Saruhiko's tone was even and filled with agitation as he spoke. "If all you wanted was for me to tell you to get lost, I could've done that back at the bar without wasting the effort of walking out into the middle of town."

"True," she sang. "But I kind of enjoy these quiet moments alone with you. It's like talking to my subconsciousness."

"Please come back as a soulless recluse."

"HOMRA isn't big enough for two."

Once he'd shoved off the wall, Misaki stood at the mouth of the alley with his heart in his throat, watching Saruhiko examine the lioness as she departed. He paid careful attention to the flickering of concern on the man's face like he might have regretted what he said. "Why, Fushimi?" he muttered feebly. "What'd Tsukiyo do to deserve that!?"

His frantic gaze shot towards the casual departure of the woman he imagined prepared to lick her wounds, but he didn't know how to intervene. He didn't want to put his nose in her business again, causing her more pain, and he certainly didn't want to annoy her if her heart was aching. "Say something…" he begged. "Saru…"

He ground his teeth, throwing his eyes back towards where Saruhiko had clicked his tongue and diverted to walk in the opposite direction like the entire confrontation was an inconvenience. "Idiot, go after her!" Even though he yearned for his words to reach Saruhiko's ears, he still muffled them beneath his breath in a bitter hiss. There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes for the briefest of moments when he saw Saruhiko stop in his tracks, but the man didn't manage to look back before continuing out of Misaki's sight.

Coughing out a livid snort, Misaki threw his skateboard onto the ground and kicked off the pavement, powering towards the direction Neirah wandered. He would deal with Saruhiko's lousy attitude later, but first, he had to do everything in his power to make sure their hunter came back to them. He couldn't rely on Mikoto to handle something so delicate. It still amazed him that Anna had managed to become so attached to the beastly king for how insensitive he could be.

That didn't mean Misaki was any more confident in his personal ability, though. While he approached, he could even feel the pigment in his face deepening in colour as his rampant thoughts tried to form coherent approaches to the situation. If it had been anyone else, he probably wouldn't care so much, but he felt responsible for the pain Saruhiko inflicted on his destructive whims. He knew it wasn't fair of Saruhiko to be taking his frustrations out on the woman.

Closing his eyes, Misaki kicked off the pavement a couple more times, deafened by the low rattle of nylon wheels against the texture of the concrete. He felt insignificant as he approached and filled with regret. When he first met the woman, he had approached her with the same rejection. He even went so far as to tell Izumo that he didn't think she belonged. He supposed what frustrated him the most was that it was quite like what he was currently loathing Saruhiko for. It made him wonder what had changed between them to make him view her in an entirely different light, and when.

But no matter who said it, or why, it wasn't true. It had nothing to do with Neirah being a girl anymore, but everything to do with the fact that she was a human being who deserved their respect and consideration. Just like Izumo said, she had made HOMRA her home, and Misaki wanted her to feel just as welcome as Izumo did. Despite her strengths, the apprehension he regularly saw in her eyes was his silent reminder that what he had to protect all along were the feelings she locked in her heart. He was sick of her hiding them to please jerks like Saruhiko. She should feel free to express herself in any way she wanted to like the rest of them. If Saruhiko could play himself up to be such a heartless bastard, then Neirah could be a loving big sister.

When Rikio had told Misaki that he didn't know Neirah, he was hurt, because he wanted to know her, and take the time to listen to things that she couldn't say. It didn't change the fact that he was still too late to act, but he wanted to promise her that he would make it right. All she had to do was find her way back home.

As Neirah departed, her smile slowly faded. The one person she expected to strike her down had done the exact opposite, in his own way. What she needed Saruhiko to say was that she couldn't go. She wasn't strong enough. She would destroy everything she worked so hard to become a part of, and she should be terrified. But he didn't. Instead, he picked her up and told her exactly what she didn't want to hear. Everything would be alright, and nothing would change, although she felt like she could believe it more from Saruhiko than she could Tatara.

She closed her eyes, opening her mouth wide enough that she could withdraw a deep and purposeful inhale, holding her lungs to capacity for a moment before spitting the air out in a massive rush. When she opened her eyes again, her unsteady breathing hitched, and her gaze thinned to meet the sight of the Silver King's airship crossing the stars. She was getting sick of it, feeling like she was an insignificant flicker beneath his condescending leer.

Mikoto was right. The only time she allowed herself to feel the lovely heat of the fire in her heart was when she was angry. Other times, she seemed to repress it along with what she deemed, less desirable emotions. Maybe she did have a temper, but just like power, she was discovering that there was no right or wrong way to use it. That ire was simply a part of who she was. If she wanted to be irritable, she would bite back. If she needed to burn, she would surround herself with people who could take the heat. All of it would come down to her own wants and desires, which remained undetermined. She had one summer to decide where she wanted to be if the path she walked ever came to an end. If there came a time when she watched her life fade, what would cause the smile in her heart to mount one on her face?

Neirah's deep thoughts were interrupted when she heard the noisy clamour of plastic wheels rolling against uneven asphalt, and she was quick to face the unexpected disturbance. However, when she did, it zipped right past her, hissing out a bitter curse followed by a clattering ruckus before a breathless Misaki was backtracking and peeking into her line of sight.

"H-hah… Tsukiyo, are you…You okay?"

Blinking back at the man curiously, Neirah shifted her suspicious leer to either side of them beneath her furrowed brow before meeting the apprehension in his eyes. It seemed strange to her that he'd just wiped out on the street only to return and ask her if she was well. "Yes…?"

Misaki shuddered, pulling his skateboard across his font so that it occupied both of his fidgeting hands. "T-that's good then! I mean, if you're really fine, that is. Because… I know Saruhiko can be a real jerk at times."

Neirah closed her eyes, scrunching her face up beneath both sets of fingers as she tried to comprehend Misaki's train of thought. Then, it crossed her mind that maybe Misaki had trailed them all along and heard the conversation that was meant exclusively from Saruhiko's ears. With a nervous sigh, Neirah lowered her hands from her cheeks and examined his fleeting gaze. "Yata, did you follow us?"

Because Misaki's hands were strategically filled with his board, the pressure of his fingers against it increased, causing his fingertips to squeal against the glazed underbelly of the printed slate. "I-it didn't start out that way," he defended shamefacedly. "But then stupid Bandō had to go and bring up how weird it was that you asked Fushimi to go with you instead of Totsuka-san or Kamamoto."

Exhaustion caused Neirah's expression to sink as she raised one set of fingers near her brow to massage her aching temple. "And how much of our conversation did you hear?"

Even though Neirah seemed casual in her approach, Misaki was a trembling mess. He could feel the sentiment choking him as an unwelcome feeling of helplessness washed over him. Even if Saruhiko was heartless, at times, he could talk to Neirah. They conversed levelly, and albeit through harsh words, communicated their feelings with each other seamlessly. It reminded him that it still took all his courage just to stand in front of her some days, and he couldn't stand feeling so insignificant.

"I don't… w-want you to leave…"

Suddenly, Neirah's fingers relaxed against her scalp, her expression draining of impatience to the sound of Misaki's tremoring tone begging her attention. He looked like a child that had done something wrong, his eyes lowered, and cheeks flushed with guilt as he pouted on the verge of tears. But even if he trembled, he still had the courage to say what was on his mind, and she respected that.

He couldn't look at her. His fingers wrung the slab between them mercilessly as he unlocked his jaw and tried desperately to come up with a way to make her reconsider. "A-and it's not just me either… It's just- everyone's too stupid to say anything. So, that's why I have to be the one to tell you. We've all got this feeling that you won't come back, and then Fushimi has to go say all that stuff…"

Neirah's expression humbled as she watched him struggle against his inner turmoil. "Yata…"

With an impatient bark, Misaki threw his skateboard to one side until it struck the ground beside him in tantrum so that he could drive his balled fists down by his hips. "Why would you even care what an insensitive bastard like that thinks, anyway!? If that's what girls are into, then I don't get it! If he thought that he was better off without you, he coulda just kept it to himself!"

Misaki was combating angry tears when Neirah had startled him by laying her fingers against his burning face, jolting him into opening his eyes to connect their gazes. He supposed the thing that took him most by surprise was that, at that moment, all he could see was the fire. The passionate blue to reflect his avid display showed that there was no hesitation or sadness in her heart when she stood against him.

"I need you to listen carefully." Her stern expression wanted to crack with a fond smile as Misaki timidly nodded his head, but she wanted him to take her seriously, so she stifled the urge. "Fushimi-san and I are friends."

Despite her hands keeping his entire expression from contorting, Misaki still knotted his brow in confusion. It floored him to consider that she would even classify the man as such after what he'd just witnessed, but he couldn't help noticing that she was adamant about denying that their relationship ran any more in-depth than what he'd seen at face value. "B-but how can you say that… after what he just said?"

A small smile finally cracked her expression before she released him and allowed him a moment to continue scrunching up his nose. "Yata, how many times has Fushimi-san said mean things to you?" Misaki seemed to consider her words for a moment, and before he continued, she interrupted him with another example. "Or what about Kamamoto-kun? Do you not think you're pretty hard on him, too, sometimes?"

There was a challenging spark in his gaze as he threw it over his shoulder with a mild snort. "Maybe a little… but he totally deserves it."

Neirah didn't contest him because she didn't feel the need to. Rikio had never complained once about poor treatment from his childhood friend. "Some people just communicate differently," she admitted softly. "I don't particularly understand why Rikio doesn't fight back sometimes, but he seems happy enough even when you're hanging off his back." She laughed to the look of sheepish guilt flashing in Misaki's diverted pout. Soon, she humbled and made sure there was genuine care in her next words. "And I know it's going to be hard for you to understand, but I'm not angry with Fushimi-san for what he said. Because in his own way, I think he's actually supporting me just like everyone else."

Upon returning his gaze, Misaki cocked a brow disbelievingly, feeling a little ashamed that she'd filled her voice with a tone she might use when she was speaking to a child. "Really?"

She smiled brightly. "That's just how we communicate, so to hate him for something that makes him who he is would be incredibly unfair, right?" Noticing that what she was saying didn't seem to comfort him, she cocked her head to one side to try and connect their gazes where he'd diverted his in thought. "You think I'm naïve, don't you?" she pried cunningly. "Do you think Fushimi-san actually hates me?"

Reluctantly, Misaki tipped his peripherals to meet her bright eyes before allowing it to scamper away. "I guess he wouldn't rub your feet if he hated you," he muttered dimly in surrender. "Unless he had some kinda creepy foot fetish."

Typically, Neirah may have burst into laughter, and she felt it welling within her as he uttered the dry remark. But something about the way he cared to chase after her despite how difficult it must have been for him made her cheeks dust with fondness. He could be fearless when it was necessary, and that wasn't the first time he'd attested to that on her behalf.

After offering his witticism a small smile, she gently slipped her hand over his head and stole his hat. She kept her grin on her face when he snapped alertly to attention, but there was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she fitted the toque on her brow instead. "You know, it was pretty brave of you to come here to reprimand Fushimi-san," she teased. "Don't forget, you used to hate me too, remember?"

There were a couple of reasons why Misaki couldn't get the temperature in his face to drop, and that conglomerate of emotion was choking his words as she fixed her bangs to one side beneath the cotton that belonged on his head, not hers. When she was finished, she held both arms out to either side of her with her fingertips facing up, and she gave a little twirl.

"Well? How do I look?" She turned an understanding smile his way. It had been the first time she'd ever stolen Misaki's hat because she never wanted to send him into a sputtering fit, but something about that night told her that they wouldn't have the opportunity for much longer. "Should I take it to Nagasaki with me?"

Regaining his senses, Misaki quickly sealed his eyes and shook his head, replacing all of his other conflicting emotions with rage. "N-no way! You can't have it!" he argued.

A gentle squawk caught his attention as she popped off her toes and began to bounce away. Her expression was bright and joyous as she twirled in a way that he had never seen from her before. "No, I think I will. Papa would like this look, for sure."

Misaki barked his agitation, bending to pick up his board off the ground before giving chase to reclaim his accessory. "I said you can't have it!"

Just as Neirah pulled the effect off her head to hold it out of his reach, regardless of how dishevelled it left her mane, she turned to tease him like she had teased Saburōta with his sunglasses last summer. "Let me guess. It's your identity?"

Without much warning, Misaki crashed into her front and boldly snagged the article in his hand to challenge her. "What? No! That's stupid!" he snapped. "Just stop trying to change. You're fine the way you are!" Just when their fingers had met around the material, their gazes crossing for a moment, Misaki realized something striking him as critical. He mildly took notice of it before, but he was too riled to appreciate the fact that she wasn't stifling any part of her with him that night.

Comprehending that he was trapped in a moment, his lips tightened, and he jerked his hand away from his hat in surrender. He recoiled anxiously, refusing to reconnect their gazes and catch the view of her altered state. He'd spent a lot of time wishing that she could rely on him as much as she had the others, but when he stopped to consider what that would mean for them come morning, the pressure suffocated him. "F-fine then," he choked out hesitantly. "You can have it."

Neirah finally let her hand drop, realizing that what he was surrendering wasn't a piece of clothing but a friendship. Somewhere inside, Misaki was genuinely afraid that she wouldn't return, and he'd been the only one to try and make her stay. The endearing thought caused her heart to race as she slowly replaced the knit cap on her brow. Once he'd been brave enough to face her again, she met his turmoil with the broadest smile she could muster, given her circumstance, dusted lightly with traces of crimson along her cheekbones. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll bring it back, okay?"

There were hints of disdain in Misaki's face as he searched her smiling face for sincerity. Part of him wanted to smile, and another part wanted to retreat in shame for noticing how cute she looked with her wild auburn waves spiralling out from beneath the sleek top. Another part entirely wished he could make her promise him because somewhere between the first time he'd caught her glaring at him in Izumo's bar to that moment where she flashed feminine charm, he'd begun to consider the person in front of him a cherished friend.

In the end, all he could muster the courage for was to let his staggered retort slide awkwardly past trembling lips, praying that somehow, she could hear the longing in his heart. "Y-yeah… you better…"

From where he stood in the doorway to their makeshift theatre, Izumo's eye began to twitch with impatience. "Totsuka… what exactly have you three managed to accomplish in here over the last hour?"

"Absolutely nothing!" From where Anna had been trying to untangle Tatara from the wires, his smile was broad and welcoming. "King's box had an old movie projector in it, though!"

"Now we can watch Tatara's movies," Anna cooed softly in agreement.

The sound that Izumo's palm made against his brow echoed in the cluttered room as he groaned with irritability. "Remind me to stop leaving you unsupervised for any length of time."

"I thought that was why I was here?" Mikoto interrupted in a dull murmur.

"Go take a nap, Your Highness."

"Oi, Kusanagi-san, we brought some movies!" Yō's expression was eager as he held out a white plastic bag for Izumo to consider. That left Izumo to step out of the way, allowing the two boys passage. "They all have red in them, so Anna-chan should enjoy them too."

"What the hell is this?" The involuntary tick developing in Izumo's face grew unbearable as he pulled out a series of apocalyptic war and horror movies involving mass amounts of bloodshed. "She's. nine."

Yō dropped against the hardwood floor just as Anna raised onto her feet to go and peek his selection. "Yeah, well, I'm not sitting here learning how to spell cat on my Saturday night," he calmly justified. "Besides, she takes off to the arcade to play those shooting games with Yata and Mikoto-san all the time. I don't see how it's any different."

Izumo dropped his arms by his sides, letting the bag sag in one hand as the other crunched a rental disc. "She does what?!"

While Izumo was distracted, Anna peeked into the bag and rustled with its contents before claiming a movie from the offerings. "This one."

Ehn? Izumo turned over his shoulder to look down at the view of the delicate creature holding up a case covered in blood splatter between both hands. With a frustrated growl, he gently picked up her choice and considered the title. "Anna-chan, this is a horror movie."

"I don't mind." She reclaimed the case from Izumo and bounded off towards her king to brag her selection. "It has the same title as the game I play with Misaki."

"I had to be the one who said it," Izumo rumbled bleakly. "What a great idea this was."

Yō flopped lazily onto his side, peeking over his shoulder to check their company. "Huh, looks like we're the first ones back." He picked his cigarettes from his pocket and held out his hand towards Masaomi to beckon for their lighter. "Wonder if I've got time for one last smoke before-"

"We're back!" Rikio announced eagerly over the rustling of cheap plastic bags stuffed to capacity. The sudden proclamation caused Yō to emit a guilty yelp.

"And we brought snacks," Saburōta continued. "Which is what we went to do, so I guess that makes sense."

Izumo didn't know if he could handle any more of them gathering beneath his roof, but after a moment of deliberation, he wondered why there weren't more of them. "Wait, wasn't Yata with you when you left?"

"Yep." When Izumo continued to stare at Saburōta's confident proclamation like he thought he was going to get more of an explanation, a bead of sweat slipped out from beneath the boy's hood. "And then he got kidnapped."

Yō spat out the cigarette that he was still contemplating igniting. "He what!?"

"Who the hell would want to kidnap Yata?" Masaomi interjected.

Tatara shook his head to get the dust from the top of his crown as Anna reclaimed the musty film he had managed to string around his neck. "Oh wow, shouldn't we go look for him, then, King?"

"He didn't get kidnapped," Rikio drawled impatiently. He caught Saburōta in a headlock and wrung his neck with a low growl. "I'm pretty sure he went off after Neirah and Fushimi. Right, Bandō?"

"Pretty sure," Saburōta squawked meekly through a hesitant grin.

"Wait…" Izumo rumbled curtly. "How sure?"

Their attention was suddenly drawn towards where Saruhiko had rejoined their company in the doorway. The room went silent for a moment as the raven-haired vanguard scanned the area with a vacant expression, and soon, he tipped his gaze towards Izumo's. "Am I early?"

Diverting his attention towards the growing crowd, Izumo pointed towards Rikio and Saburōta. "So, let me get this straight. Yata left with Kamamoto and Bandō, but he's not here. You left with Neirah, and she's not here."

When Izumo's eyes met Yō's, the man shrugged indifferently, his cigarette bouncing between his lips as he prepared to light it. "Don't look at me. I brought mine back." Before the flame could touch the butt, Masaomi smacked the back of his friend's head until he lost the light again.

From the back of the room, Kōsuke finally raised and wiped his wrist over his brow. "Done," he heaved strenuously. He offered their party a small smile and spoke in a soft voice. "I think I've finally got the projector all hooked up."

"I'm free!" Tatara cheered elatedly. He climbed to his feet and patted his thighs to dust them off. He didn't even feel the slightest guilt that he hadn't actually managed to help do anything. "Thanks a lot, Anna-chan! That was-" He let out an apprehensive yelp to notice Anna standing with her arms stretched out by her sides, her tiny frame coiled in recording tape and twine.

"Help, please." Despite her dilemma, Anna's expression remained stony, and her tone relaxed.

"Ah! Right away!"

"And so, after that, you have to go through this super skinny passage and then bam! You're on the other side, just like that!" Misaki quaked when he walked into the back room of the bar to have all eyes on him like he'd committed a crime. Even as Neirah brushed past him to enter, he remained with this hesitant feeling that he was in some form of trouble. "Uh, hi?"

"Would ya look at that. I guess Yata kidnapped Tsukiyo," Rikio sassed spiritedly.

"Yeah, but did he have to make her wear his stupid hat?" Saburōta instigated bitterly. "Uncool, man."

"Oi! I didn't kidnap anyone!" Misaki bellowed impatiently. "And screw you! She stole it!"

Taking moderate solace in the fact that Misaki had returned to make the evening a little more bearable, Saruhiko finally let himself into the room. "Just had to sneak away for some alone time with your girlfriend, huh, Misaki?"

He was already angry with Saruhiko, so when his other half instigated the situation further, Misaki was quick to reverse the assault. "I wouldn't've had to if you hadn't just abandoned her!"

"What can I say," Saruhiko smoothly dismissed. "I turned my head for one minute, and she ran off somewhere else entirely."

Neirah didn't bother looking up from where she was perusing the titles Yō had retrieved for their movie marathon. "Actually, the story we went with was that you fell down an open manhole and got separated."

"Let me guess," Saruhiko droned irritably. "It was Misaki's idea." When his gaze locked with his hat-less counterpart, Misaki puffed out his chest like he was proud of his creativity. The mere consideration caused Saruhiko to scoff and take a seat across the room in the place he'd be least likely to be bothered by any company.

Hissing out an already exhausted sigh, Izumo crossed the room and considered Kōsuke's handiwork. "Alright, now that you're all here, quiet down and behave yourselves, why don't ya? I'm still tryin' to run a respectable business out there for a couple of hours, so keep it down."

Neirah sat against the floor in front of the couch between Mikoto's knees and pulled Anna into her lap. "Onii-chan, you sound like an old man when you talk like that." She tipped her gaze over her shoulder to where Tatara was tugging on her new accessory curiously.

"I wasn't sure at first, but this is Yata-chan's hat, isn't it?" Tatara's smile broadened as he watched Misaki seat himself next to the woman with a chastened pout on his face. "How unexpected."

Neirah's smile softened when she tipped her head back against Rikio's shoulder after he'd sat on the opposite side as Misaki. "Yata said I could borrow it for my trip to Nagasaki. Although, I'm pretty sure it's warmer there."

Tatara and Mikoto's expressions altered considerably to her announcement, the sentiment immediately staggering them both. And from nearby, Izumo's once strung-out expression humbled in thought. "He did, did he?" Izumo mumbled.

Realizing that the situation had become awkward even after Izumo had commanded that the only rule for their gathering was that they couldn't talk about Neirah's trip, Anna pressed the button on the disc reader to play the movie and raised an ivory finger to her lips to hush them with a delicate hiss. "Shh, the movie is starting."

After dimming the lights, Izumo quietly took his leave, careful to consider the sight before he did. Like a set of nesting dolls, Neirah had settled herself in front of Mikoto, and Anna was snuggled up between the brunette's arms. Rikio was on the right of Neirah in front of Tatara, and Saburōta was next to him, proceeding to dig through their snack stash by Kōsuke's feet. On Neirah's left side, Misaki was surprisingly calm and willing to be near to the woman with Saruhiko somewhat close to him. Masaomi had leaned back on the other side of Saruhiko with his hands braced against the hardwood and Yō was draped on his side, only mildly disappointed that he hadn't been able to sneak one last smoke.

Izumo would like to think that there were times that he felt like an over-glorified babysitter driven to the brink of insanity by the most dysfunctional batch of kids he could imagine, but he just couldn't stay away if he wanted to. HOMRA was home. It was more than an afterschool hangout, more than a make-shift movie theatre or snack bar, and it was where Neirah belonged.

There was an eager song in Misaki's voice as he watched the screen in anticipation. "So, what're we watchin'?"

Tatara smiled and passed the cap-less ginger the empty movie case. "Anna-chan actually picked out the movie," he explained. "She says that you play a game like this at the game centre."

Misaki shuddered, an icy chill ripping up his spine as he examined the case. "B-but… t-this is the one where the g-g-ghost comes out and k-kills all those people, right?"

Misaki's blatant rejection of the decision made Tatara's face contort with bemusement. "You don't like it? But the game-?"

Misaki whirled to face him with a pale expression flashing signs of alarm. "Y-yeah, but it's different in a game!" A game that he didn't want to admit he turned away from while Anna played.

From his dark corner of their impromptu theatre, Saruhiko let a low snigger rumble over the eerie sounds of the screen. "I'm feelin' pretty lucky that I made it out of that manhole in time to see this."

By the time Izumo had finished up his day's work and returned to the room he'd left his friends in, they had shifted. The truth was, he may have forgotten that they were there if it weren't for the occasional uproar about who was hogging all the snacks, and what he assumed was Misaki shrieking in terror after a strategically executed swell of instrumental music. While he stood in the doorway, drying his hands in a dishrag, he was careful to absorb the adjustment to take place.

The first thing he noted was the vast assortment of empty bottles, boxes and wrappers littered everywhere, but he didn't miss the fact that most of them gathered around Rikio. Kōsuke had surrendered his spot on the sofa entirely to sit next to Rikio on the floor where Saburōta should have been. Anna had climbed up onto the couch at some point and was tucked peacefully between a napping Mikoto and Tatara perched on the edge of his seat. Regardless of how shrill the screams were coming from the bloody faces on the wall, Anna seemed no more than interested in examining the supernatural events to unfold.

On the floor, Saburōta had claimed Neirah's vacated lap for a headrest, and Izumo could only imagine Neirah had taken his shades as payment for the comfort because they now rested on top of Misaki's hat on her head. Both of their gazes were fixed on the show, yet somehow Saburōta managed to calmly nibble the cookie sticks that Neirah had been absently feeding him throughout the production.

In the short amount of time he observed the group, he watched Misaki reach for his missing hat twice in hopes of using it to cover his eyes, but when the boy came up with empty fingers, he shifted towards Neirah's shirt sleeve instead. After giving it a couple of nervous tugs, she raised her hand and covered his eyes for him like she thought it might help.

Masaomi had shifted to the other side of the room at some point to get in on the snack horde, but he never returned to Yō's side. Instead, he seemed more entertained by tossing wasabi peas across the room at the jumpy man waiting for the music to alert him to the impending murder. Saruhiko appeared to be the only one who hadn't moved from his spot next to Misaki, and nobody else seemed quite as disinterested.

In the end, Izumo couldn't help but smile. "Terror of the town, you bunch," he murmured fondly. He slunk along the edge of the room, careful not to startle any of them by stepping on their fingers until he made his way around the back of the couch. He leaned over the leather to alert its guests to his presence before gently resting his hand on Anna's shoulder, mildly impressed that the child's skin didn't even shiver. "Anna-chan, it's pretty late," he whispered under his breath. "Did you want to come to bed?"

Without shifting her eyes from the movie, she slowly shook her head. "It's fine. I can sleep here."

As he retracted his touch, he surrendered her a kind smile. "Well, if that's what you want."

"It is."

Izumo flinched with how swiftly she'd responded, her tone gentle and monotonous when she did. But despite that, when she turned her large crimson eyes to face him, they were sparkling with fond affection.

"I want to stay like this forever."

Izumo's breathing hitched, and he tried to ignore the sadness of Tatara's eyes in his peripherals. He wasn't sure how to respond to her after the innocent but understanding comment. Luckily, the slumbering Mikoto had heard her gentle coo and quietly took her under his arm for comfort. Sometimes Izumo wondered if Mikoto didn't move in his sleep when the child called for him. He'd certainly come a long way from dodging her company in the bar.

"There's so much red." Anna watched the room through half-lidded eyes, and her grey world spotted with traces of crimson. "There's so much more than I remember." Prior to joining HOMRA and taking the hand of the man her friends called King, the world was dull and boring, filled with monochromatic memories. But since, her canvas was dyed with the shade of hearts to share it.

When she felt Mikoto's palm on the top of her head, she hummed gently and turned to connect their gazes. To many, Mikoto's eyes might come off unfeeling or predatory, but she saw the tenderness deeper than he wanted anyone else to venture. "I want to stay," she whispered. "And make more of these red memories."

Mikoto just offered her a quiet smile.

Then, Izumo's gaze roamed over the flinching crowd to the sight of Misaki clinging to Saruhiko's arm next to Neirah. When the two first met, Misaki couldn't stand to be in the same room as her, but he watched them warm each other's hips that night as Saruhiko scrolled through files on his PDA. HOMRA was a vast and growing clan known for their violent tendencies, but that wasn't what he saw as he watched Yō curse under his breath to be struck by an inconveniently timed flying pea. His smile returned to the sound of Masaomi's devilish snigger preceding some loud crunching as Yō struggled to steady his heart rate.

Out of all the hands that Mikoto had taken in his, there were a few that stood out above the rest. Some of the lower clansmen referred to them as HOMRA's Elite, but it wasn't necessarily that they were long-standing members, or more powerful, because there were indeed exceptions. The best way Izumo could describe it was that the boys and girls in the room with him that night were the pains in his backside that he just couldn't shake free. They were noisy, vulgar, destructive and grating- but they were loyal. It didn't matter if they were setting the world on fire or making sure one of their friends had one last smile to leave with the next morning, and something about that was endearing.

"Kusanagi-san?" From where Izumo was knelt behind the lounge, losing himself to his despairing thoughts, Tatara quietly interrupted under his breath. "Did you need some help closing up for the night?"

Izumo took one last look at their off-duty hunter while she doted on her pet wolf and smiled. "Nah, don't worry about it," he murmured. "The place is closed tomorrow anyway, so there'll be plenty of time to catch up."

When Anna turned her understanding gaze back towards him, his smile became sad but didn't fade. "I think I'll just join the rest of you for a little while if that's okay."

Just in case forever couldn't last.