- It starts with one -
…
April 25th, 2008
Cautious steps slowly led her through the doorway to the place she'd spent the night before. Even after an hour of tender coaxing, she still felt like she'd somehow betrayed the kindness she swore to repay. Neirah's fingers wrung the strap of the bag she carried at her front, her fleeting gaze scanning the room to locate all means of an emergency evacuation. If, for whatever reason, the man at her back sought revenge, she needed to have her escape route calculated. That was a basic survival instinct.
"Remember what I said?"
When her frightened gaze snapped over her shoulder to connect her hesitant expression with his, Tatara offered her a tender smile.
"There's no reason for you to feel uncomfortable around me. You stayed here last night, too, right? Nothing's changed since then."
'Except now, you know you're abetting an assassin.' She wanted to demand that it wasn't so easy to go from watching your shadow to letting someone fill it, but she was just too exhausted. "I wanted to repay your kindness," she murmured faintly. "But, all I did was welcome more trouble in your lives."
Tut. Tatara passed her by casually, a gentle hum in his tone. "You're too hard on yourself. Nei-chan is no trouble!"
An impatient flush marked her face as she bitterly puffed out her cheeks. "I was referring to the mob of gunmen previously on your doorstep."
With a playful snicker, Tatara waved his hand towards her to dismiss her severity. "You saw it, didn't you? King's sword?" She didn't recall his apartment previously being in such disarray, and she took notice of such fine details. When he raised his head from where he'd begun to straighten some of his belongings, Tatara's smile flashed fondness. "Trust me. It was no trouble."
The apprehension remained as Neirah slowly followed him deeper into the familiar surroundings, and her heart was in her throat as she watched him scamper around. Finally, Tatara led her to a small room that he'd previously used for a storage closet. She was a relatively suspicious and analytical woman when something fascinated her, and Totsuka Tatara indeed fascinated her. Her brow creased when she watched him rummage around the constricted space, heaping his arms with stray possessions as he went. "Tatara?" She spoke each syllable flatly, her anxiety beginning to pique. "You started to clean this room out while I was at school today, didn't you?"
Flinching, Tatara startled upright and let his guilty gaze dart from side to side. "A-ah, well, it is springtime. It seemed like as good a time as any to get some sorting done."
Neirah took an apprehensive step back. "Did you intend for this to happen?"
Without another thought, Tatara dropped his armful of possessions and rushed forward before he realized that he might startle her if he acted too swiftly. "No! I- It isn't really like it seems." He retracted his urgent touch, holding his folded fingers against his sternum. "I just knew that you still didn't have anywhere to go, so I wanted to be ready for… if you came back to us."
She stiffened skeptically.
Tatara's sad eyes raised to meet hers with a silent apology flooding his tender gaze. "I just… know what it's like not to have anything at all, to be hungry and cold, and I remember what it felt like the moment King and Kusanagi-san finally shared their home with me." He lowered his hand, his tight-lipped smile solemn as he let his fingers bloom around a small flicker in his palm, summoning the spirit straight from his heart. "King's hand was so warm that day, and it chased the cold away. It gave me hope that someday, we could all be… like a family." And he wanted to share it with her.
Despite her uncertainty, Neirah's broadening gaze watched Tatara's palm come to life, spawning a set of stunning crimson butterfly wings out of his flames. She'd seen men burn. She'd seen them command fire, but what Tatara had just done was a beautiful work of art. It was gentle and kind, unlike the brash display that others had shaken her world with over the past couple of days.
He quietly watched the creation flutter around him in a lazy serpentine in the dim room. "Fire can be scary, kind of like some people in this world," he initiated. "But just because they're scary doesn't mean that they can't feel love. Just like… a flame can protect even though it can also destroy." When he closed his eyes, the butterfly vanished and left them standing quietly in the cluttered corner of his apartment. "It's okay to be scared. Sometimes fear can keep us safe too. If we're afraid of getting hurt, we won't go looking for trouble." He slowly opened his eyes, like his heart, begging her to give him a chance. "But if we stay scared forever, we'll never know what else a flame can do."
Neirah's retreating step settled in the doorway, her trembling hands wringing the schoolbag that contained all of the possessions she had left.
"If you really want to return King's kindness, burn," he continued gently. "Burn with all your heart and never look back. The world is what you make of it, so be brave, Nei-chan."
The bumps on Neirah's arms began to tingle eerily with the consideration of paths laid out by her feet. She felt pressured to walk, to put one foot in front of the other, but she was uncertain about where the path would end, and once it did, where would that leave her? She gave a gentle shiver, and a mild whimper snuck past her lips. "I… I feel… strange."
Hmn? Tatara eased closer to her with a cautious frown. "Are you cold?" he murmured. "Would you like me to draw you a bath?"
"Where am I?" She meant to keep the thought to herself, but when she drew the possibilities to mind, her words were stumbling out without consideration to her company.
"You're home."
Neirah's wild gaze flashed before she tore it from her toes to where Tatara smiled back at her confidently. "I-I'm sorry?"
"Well, if you want it to be, that is," he sniggered puckishly. "I mean, you don't have anywhere else to go, do you?"
Her expression dropped, and she still battled to shake the cold of the rain outside the window. The raindrops were steady, reflecting a kaleidoscope of streetlights on the cold pane. As the drips rolled, they skittered along different paths, which led them to different futures. They had just as much warning as they slipped. There was no way to know which path was right, so they left their fate to chance. It wasn't unlike what she'd done when she left her destiny in Mikoto's hands.
"Kusanagi-san told me that it was my job to take care of you now that you're one of us," he whispered. "And I'm… well, not very good with promises, but I want you to know that I'll do everything I can to be the best roommate I can be. I'm pretty into cooking right now, and Kusanagi-san says that I'm not even half bad. And I don't mind cleaning up a bit if you don't like the clutter. I'm just not here very much, so I got kind of lazy." He bowed down and quickly gathered the belongings he'd begun to clear out of the closet he intended on using as a bedroom. "I'll even let you have the bigger bedroom if you want. I don't really need-"
Tatara startled the moment Neirah dropped her bag, trembling fingertips reaching to the bottom of his gathered pile to tug on a shirt at the bottom. When she did, his effort to collect the items went to waste, and everything tumbled back down. "I don't mind."
It was difficult for him to determine what exactly it was that she didn't mind when she pulled out the corner of his shirt and let her eyes scan the pale coloured surface. Her clothes were soaked, her belongings were soggy, and his shirt… looked so warm.
Hah? Tatara whimpered as Neirah slowly paced around him, shoving both hands against his shoulders to shove him out of the room. After she'd pushed him past the threshold, she heaved on the slab, slowly gliding the pile of his possessions across the floor so she could latch the door. It left Tatara standing outside the doorway, stunned. "Nei-chan?"
Even as his gentle knock came on the board, she didn't stop uncoiling the buttons of her blouse between trembling fingers before finally peeling the fabric from her lean torso. Once the icy cloth slid away, she was left to hold out the material of his oversized shirt that would be a little too big for someone her size. She recalled the night prior when she had denied his invitation to wear his clothes, but something about the way she'd spent most of her life fighting the frost made his warmth look welcoming. Maybe she wasn't ready to snuggle up against him for reassurance, but the subtle sentiment of sharing his wardrobe might suffice.
"Nei-chan? Are you okay?"
She reached between her shoulders and unclasped her lacy bra, keeping her tanned shoulders towards the door as she weaved her first arm through the long sleeve. She filled with instant satisfaction.
The handle clicked as it rolled, and Tatara slowly poked his head inside. He hadn't quite finished emptying the room for her yet. "Was it something I said?"
He was met with the same sight as the night prior, bruised shoulders flexing lean muscle as she fed her second arm through his sleeve. She didn't rush as he intruded, and he wasn't sure if it was due to exhaustion or if she was finally feeling more comfortable around him. She certainly didn't seem self-conscious; actually, she was a little immodest.
Neirah started buttoning his shirt from the bottom up, carefully watching the fresh brand on her right breast as she climbed. When she reached the final button before it began to hide the mark, she stopped, leaving the sagging neckline low to display her pride. It wasn't easy to clasp the buttons over her bosom anyways. The material was too constricting to be pulled tight across the weighty mounds. "I still don't know how I'm supposed to live," she whispered feebly. "I've always been a shadow, somebody who does as commanded. Even when I was little, if someone told me to do something, I did my best to excel." She lowered sad eyes to the sight of her empty, upturned palms. "What does it mean to make fate my own? Can I do that if I'm serving someone who calls themselves a king?"
Tatara interrupted her monotony with a playful giggle. "It might be nice to know these things."
Leaving her hands in front of her, she turned her knotted expression over her damaged shoulder. She still carried scratches from when she'd collapsed from the rooftops into Rikio, and together with the marks of her past, she hoped they would all heal soon. "Do you think I'm strange?"
He quietly shook his head, approaching to take her hands between his. "Nei-chan is interesting."
Neirah looked into his eyes, feeling his warmth spreading through her entirety as she lingered in his tender consideration. "I like it when you call me that," she whispered fondly. "It makes me… feel safe."
"I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not very strong," he admitted spiritedly. "If anyone should make you feel safe, it's King, but…" He let his thumb gently glide over the top of her hand. "But If you'll let me, I think I could protect this." He reached out hesitantly, waiting for her to flee as he moved to lay his fingers against her collar next to her HOMRA insignia. He felt her breathing hitch, and he worried that he'd overstepped, but when he caught her fingers coming over his beneath a gentle overflow of her new aura, his heart warmed.
"So warm." Her eyes were softly shut, her heart racing beneath his touch as she felt the tender sense of belonging fill her. It was like a full-body embrace, but their hands were all that connected. It was the same thing she felt when she had taken Mikoto's hand, and the flames cradled her in a reassuring squeeze. She hadn't noticed that the calm spill of crimson from her palms had spread outside of her comprehension.
She lowered her chin, the warm dampness of stray tears leaking from sealed eyelids as she tucked her face against where his arm remained outstretched. Not only did she miss flames spilling from somewhere inside her body, but she also didn't comprehend that he'd joined, quietly burning with her in the centre of the small room. Beneath the heat of their shared blaze, she felt the broken pieces of her frozen heart defrost, and slowly forge a proper beat.
"Thank you." When she finally whispered her gratitude, she noticed the half-drowned state of her croaky tone. "I'm so glad," she breathed. "I'm so glad that you touched me." She said the words like she'd referred to the way he reached out to her in the alleyway the night before, but the night they stood alone in the centre of her future bedroom, she imagined the fingers against her chest reaching straight through to hold her heart.