Knock


And just like that, he was gone.

I suppose that shouldn't have come as any sort of surprise after what he said that night.

He left because that's what he wanted, for some reason or another. In a rush of chaos and disorder, the Minato twins crept into our lives, and he slipped out right behind them. It happened so fast that some of us still haven't recovered…

And none of us got to say goodbye.

Maybe that's why I keep that moment close to my heart, the time we spent standing silently in the cold breeze, warm and comfortable with each other's presence. Did he not feel it too, that moment when things seemed right? Or was it just an illusion? Was his contentment with me just another mask?

It makes me wonder, did he leave because he finally said what needed to be said?

But if that was the case, who else had that level of closure?

At least he didn't make him choose and for that,

he has my gratitude.

November 1st, 2010

The steam from the takeout bags in her hands was making her palms sweat beneath the long sleeves of her oversized hoodie as she lingered by his door. Neirah stared at the slab for a moment, the quiet rustle of plastic the only thing noting her stealthy presence. She didn't announce herself nearly as boldly when she wore slipper-style flats on her tiny dancer's feet.

When she tipped her head towards the ceiling panels, the floppy hood of her sweater concealed one eye, but her view still considered climbing in the way she always came. But she didn't want him to feel like nothing had changed, and maybe that was because she knew what it felt like to have your concerns overlooked. Saruhiko was gone, and she presumed that it would affect Misaki quite like it would distress her if Tatara decided to leave her side. Then again, Saruhiko wasn't just gone. He was the newest member of HOMRA's rival clan, SCEPTRE4, a betrayal that Misaki would have a hard time forgiving. That was an unnecessary dash of salt in open wounds.

Despite the way she boasted their vanguard's communication when she last visited Maki's shop, Misaki hadn't seen it coming. She knew that because the days were passing and she barely noticed the halved frontline force out and about around HOMRA. There was a time when he was there as much as she and Tatara were, but not since Saruhiko left. They were all completely blindsided, and nobody was taking it harder than the man who'd just lost his best friend.

Neirah knew that Misaki was heartbroken, even if he said he was okay, and she could understand that the last thing he'd want on his mind would be the pain. But she couldn't ignore his suffering either, because she knew what that felt like too. Maybe their circumstances were slightly different, but the most critical factor in her decision to return to clan life after her trip from Nagasaki might not have been her promise to Tatara, or her love for her king, but the bravery of one honest friend who was daring enough to tell her that he didn't want her to leave. He was the only one who tried to stop her, and just like that, she was noting the similarities of their situations.

It was one thing to give someone space to grieve, but Neirah believed that it was just as important to show someone that they weren't alone. She didn't have any intentions of bringing up their lost comrade; in fact, that was the last thing on her mind. All she wanted was to return the kindness that he showed her the night she almost made the biggest mistake of her life. And all her grumbling tummy wanted was to eat the delicious food she could smell in her takeout containers.

As she continued to watch the door, she weighed her options. She'd always barged into their apartment when she visited if Misaki was there. The only one who ever let her through the front door, well, he was gone. That weighed just as heavily in her heart as anyone else's. She would miss his quick wit, miss his foot rubs, but most importantly, she would miss that sound sense of stability that kept her grounded when her dreams got the best of her. Her biggest regret is that she never got to see him smile from his heart, and a quiet part of her wondered what that might look like in reality. Unfortunately, Misaki might have been the only one who'd ever seen such a miracle, and now it was gone.

But HOMRA was still there, and he needed to know that. She was there. Because HOMRA was her place, it was his place, with or without Saruhiko. And she quietly promised that together, they would burn through the pain.

Tat. Tat. Tat.

Misaki's posture snapped erect to the sound of his startled gasp as he sat cross-legged in front of a glowing television screen. The pattering of keys froze between his hands to the command of the pause button, and he lingered in the cerulean glow of the home screen, craned like a meerkat as he tried to comprehend the unexpected intrusion.

At first, he wanted to be hopeful. His heart started to race against his chest as his dull eyes began to brighten with grateful stars to the thought that Saruhiko had finally come home. The dark circles under his eyes made the youth look exhausted, but he still tried to analyze the gentle knock that sounded against his door. Saruhiko had returned his key, so if he were polite and as remorseful as the unobtrusive tap sounded, he would have no choice but to knock. There was no way Saruhiko could have known that Misaki hadn't locked the door since his departure. During their time on their own, Misaki had gotten good at bolting doors, mainly to keep the intrusive Neirah out, although, a lot of good that did them. But if Saruhiko ever wanted to come home, he didn't want anything to stand in his way.

Tat. Tat… Tat.

No, it wasn't Saruhiko, and Misaki's heart sank. He expected a clatter like that to come from Rikio, or maybe even Tatara. His first instinct was to ignore them because he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want their pity. Maybe if Mikoto showed up, smacked him upside the head, and told him to smarten up, he might listen, but that knock didn't belong to his king. It was too kind, too gentle, and albeit reluctantly, he heaved a heavy sigh and returned to his game. He wanted to make sure he was distracted when the inevitable interrogation began.

"It's open." Misaki didn't realize how husky his voice was from not being used until he finally spoke. If it were Tatara, he would need all of his strength to keep from breaking the kind man's teeth for telling him everything would be okay. That was the last thing that he wanted to hear. If it were Rikio, he would eagerly break his teeth. That might truly make him feel a bit better.

"My hands are full…"

Misaki threw his controller against the floor with a noisy rattle, raising his hands to his mouth to stifle the mortified curse that slipped past his lips beneath wild eyes. "Sh- Tsukiyo?!" He whispered his alarm urgently to himself. On the other side of the door, he heard her sway, plastic bags making a fuss just past the threshold. He didn't even bother considering how she knocked if her hands were full, or if she was simply inspiring him to move for the first time in hours. Or maybe it had been days, not that he was keeping track.

"S-shit, okay, hold on." Misaki sauntered to his feet, catching his finger around the sock that had crept over one heel. He tugged the cotton back into place in one fluid movement as he stood, and quickly snagged his hat from the floor next to him. He hadn't checked the mirror in ages, it seemed, but his hair was probably a wiry mess. At least if it were Rikio or Tatara, he wouldn't feel so inclined to look presentable, but of course, the one who had to come for him was their lovely lion. Even if she was a savage, she was still a girl, and for whatever reason, he felt like that warranted effort on his part.

He fumbled over some clutter, clothes, takeout containers, and an empty can that was marked by the brand of soda that Saruhiko liked most, the one Misaki used to get from the little shop just down the road. As soon as he saw that was what tripped him, he swung and kicked the remnants as hard as he could across the room. "Stupid fucking Monkey-!"

Bright blue eyes repeatedly blinked over her curious pout as she listened to war ensue on the other side of the doorway. There was thumping, cursing, something that sounded like claws grinding on a chalkboard, and then finally, a solid bang against the wall between them. She flinched, obviously waiting for Misaki to catch his breath and maintain his calm for when he finally opened the door.

After steadying his racing heart and giving his eyes a firm rub like he could wipe the exhaustion marks from his face, Misaki slowly invited her into his humble abode for the first time. He expected to be meeting the woman eye-to-eye, or as close to it as he liked to admit. The truth was, with those awful high-heels of hers, she was a little taller than him. So, when he had to look down to meet the sparkling curiosity of his guest, he was slightly shocked.

With a bright smile flushing both cheeks with ruby shades, she held up both of her paws to flash her offering. She was wearing the sweater that Rikio had given her almost a year prior, the one that he claimed was too tight for him to wear in the wintertime. It quickly became Neirah's favourite, but when she wore it, she looked like a shapeless spectre. It reminded Misaki of kids who cut two holes in a sheet, dropping it over their heads to pretend they're ghosts. That comparison made him shiver, but he tried not to let it show when he spoke. "W-what's up, Tsukiyo?" Casual, that was his best attempt as he cleared his throat of fatigue. "D-did you need somethin'?"

Without waiting for him to step out of her way, Neirah tittered and floated past him, nearly bowling him over as she invaded his personal space with both takeout bags raised high above their heads. "Katsudon!" she cheered.

Misaki twitched, watching the woman pad lightly across his floor and invite herself to his table. E-eh?! His cheeks began to flood with humiliation as she shuffled through the warzone that had become his apartment, using her baggy sweater sleeve to dust the debris off his table before she began to set two placements.

With a faint groan, Misaki raised his fingers to his nape and gave it a sheepish scratch. It was after she'd bombarded him that he realized just how gross his state of living must have seemed to her. But much to his surprise, and appreciation, she hadn't said anything condemning yet. "Uh, hey… I hate to break it to you, but I'm not that hungry. And you know… Saruhiko's not here to hang out with you." His tone flattened with disdain. "He uh… never came back." He shuddered, his breathing seizing entirely in his lungs when she threw her devastated pucker his way. The folds of her hood still covered one of her eyes, but the other one looked distressed.

"You don't want to eat with me?" She looked down at the settings with hollow reprieve. "I guess I could… go eat alone somewhere…"

Misaki flinched, rushing towards the table to defend his rejection. "W-what about one of the others? I mean, why can't you and Totsuka-san eat together?"

Neirah diverted her gaze sadly. "Tat-chan is busy with some uppity meeting between King-sama and Onii-chan, and I can't be there," she scowled. "And I tried Chitose's, but when I got there, I heard some pretty questionable noises coming through his door."

That wasn't unusual. The ginger vanguard groaned through his meek smile as he tried not to think about that one too much. As bad as he felt for trying to turn her away, Neirah was the last person he wanted to spend time in his apartment with him, especially in its current state. "What about Kamamoto? I'm sure he could eat. That's all that guy ever does."

Neirah raised her hidden paw to her temple and gave it a sheepish scritch. "Ever since Ri-chan moved out, he lives too far away. By the time I got there… the tonkatsu would be soggy…" Her voice began to trail off miserably. "Soggy panko is the worst…"

Misaki was speechless. Since the woman arrived, she hadn't once asked him if he was okay, or if he'd heard from Saruhiko. Considering that he believed she was closer to Saruhiko than she ever was with him, it was a tad unsettling. But something about her quaint offer for a hot meal was refreshing, even if he was still a little skeptical. "I… Well, I guess if you want to eat here, t-that's cool."

By her eager beam, Neirah's spirits immediately seemed to lift as she held her hand out for him to take a seat on the floor across from her. "Yay!" She drew out the takeout chopsticks provided with their meal and snapped them apart with a decisive click. "How exciting! I don't think we've ever had a meal together, just the two of us."

Misaki's heart sank as he tangled his legs beneath him. That's because Saru was always there, he thought despondently. He poked at his food, his stomach churning even to consider what she'd placed in front of him. Then, before he could dwell on it, Neirah withdrew one of her knives from somewhere beneath her guise and halved the cuts of meat in front of her. All Misaki could do was cock a brow. He had never seen a more assassin thing to do.

When Neirah sensed his observance, she looked at him quite like she had the first time Rikio scolded her for using her kunai at the table. "Ah… sorry," she murmured. "I know it's poor table manners, but the pieces are so big."

Misaki shrugged and returned to unburying his rice, disturbing the food to make it look like he had attempted to eat something. "Ehn, you do you," he casually reasoned. "That's not even the weirdest thing I've seen outta you."

Interrupting his thoughts again, Neirah leaned across the table and offered him a small Styrofoam carrier with a friendly smile. "Tonkatsu sauce?"

She knew he wasn't eating, but still, she treated him no differently. He supposed something about that was endearing, causing his face to flood with colour as he gratefully received the condiment. "T-thanks…"

The meal started quietly, mainly because it was pretty clear that neither of them knew what to discuss. The pair had never really spent time together alone before because Neirah always seemed partial to Saruhiko's company. Misaki quietly raised his tired eyes to watch her hum pleasure around her crunchy pork bits. It was her favourite dish, breaded pork cutlets. She certainly liked pork, but he figured he should try to come up with something more interesting than pigs as a dinner conversation. He scanned his mind for topics, searching his memory for anything that might distract him from his current situation.

He knew that she liked kombucha, or any hot tea, over coffee, and when she drank coffee, she loaded it with cream. She loved sports and running, most specifically. She got anxious when she couldn't release the energy that often built up until she was feverish. He supposed they weren't overly different, in that sense. She loved milk candies and hated the cold. Strawberry was her favourite flavour outside of matcha, and she always smelled like… cherries.

Misaki choked down the lump in his throat as he dropped his eyes towards his meal, only to comprehend that it looked like he'd managed to eat some while he was thoughtfully scrutinizing his unexpected guest. In his stuffy apartment, her sweet sakura scent stood out, and it was somewhat comforting.

"What are you playing?"

Misaki snapped upright like he'd jostled himself awake after fading into sleep, his attention following her clean fingernail to where she pointed at his television waiting on the pause screen.

"It looks like the sequel to that game you gave Tat-chan and I."

He scanned his memory quickly and then mumbled his concurrence. "Uh, yeah, it is. That's kinda why… we- or… that I got the new system, I guess."

She didn't seem phased by the notes of contempt in his voice. She knew that was why he and Saruhiko had split on the new system, so she didn't think it was necessary to pry. "Wolf-kun was mad when I played against him last winter. He said it's not good for a man's pride when girls are better than them at video games."

"What? That's stupid," Misaki growled through his dull snort. "I think it's hot."

The silence to pass between them as the tension flooded the room caused him to stifle his desperate groans. It was a bad idea from the start. He should never have let Neirah through his door when he knew that it had been way too long since the last time he'd had a proper sleep. He felt like a bumbling fool, which was something after he'd spent so long getting used to her. Years ago, when they'd first met, he never dreamed he would be sitting across the table from her eating takeout.

Without consideration of etiquette, Neirah poked her chopsticks behind her lips and sucked the sauce from their surface. She tried her best to ignore his blunder at face-value. "But that's Wolf-kun for you," she purred. "He can be pretty petty."

With the way Misaki stuffed rice into his cheeks like a chipmunk, you might have thought he was hungry. In reality, he was simply desperate to shut himself up before he made any other ridiculous remarks. Then, when his curiosity piqued, he choked down the food and spoke through the aftermath. "Why d' you call him that, anyway?" He coughed to clear his throat before he asphyxiated on rice. "Wolves are cool. It's like the complete opposite of him."

Neirah shrugged and started to burrow into her near-empty dish. "I think he's cool."

Misaki didn't know why, but something about hearing her say that grated on his stressed nerves. "Y-you do?"

She nodded vaguely. "I called him Wolf-kun because when I first found him, he was all alone, and it took a while for him to come out of his shell. See, he's a pack animal at heart, but something obviously happened to make him distrust people. He's kind of shy, but deep down, he just wants to be included."

Misaki snorted at the mere consideration of Neirah comparing Saburōta to a beast of any species. A mouse, he could see, or perhaps some other skittering rodent-type creature, but not a wolf. For whatever reason, a chameleon with sunglasses stuck out in his mind, and he nearly spat out his food. "Yeah, can't see it," Misaki grumbled through his bitter chewing.

"That's okay. He's not your wolf. He's mine."

Misaki froze, grasping that in his attempt to chew through the subject, he'd almost eaten an entire meal. Suddenly, he wondered if that was what Saruhiko felt like right before he left, an outsider, a lone wolf rejected from the pack. After all of Misaki's efforts to include him, Saruhiko seemed to castoff the very idea of comradery, for some reason or another, and he couldn't understand why. Saruhiko was smart, a hundred times more intelligent than Saburōta, so why was Saburōta still there when Saruhiko was gone?

"I never thanked you for what you did."

When Neirah spoke, Misaki was beginning to comprehend that maybe he was having a hard time focussing because she seemed to catch him off-guard repeatedly. "Wait- me? F-for what?"

Neirah stuffed her disposable chopsticks into the empty container on the table and folded her hands in her lap. "Before I left for Nagasaki, you told me that you didn't want me to leave."

His stomach began to flip, and he quickly diverted his gaze to speak in a mousy tone. "I- I did say that… d-didn't I?" There was no sense trying to deny it, and he just didn't have any fight left at that moment.

"Sometimes, it's hard to understand people," she started quietly. "Even if you speak the same language and say certain words, the meaning is lost if you're not true to them. But sometimes, hearing someone say something and mean it is a nice change." She slowly raised her soft gaze to meet his. "I know that everyone else was worried I wouldn't come back, but you're the only one who said anything to try and stop me. That was nice."

After banishing his container alongside hers in a similar manner, Misaki also stuffed his hands in his lap, diverting his bashful expression as he spoke. "Y-you're welcome, I guess..." Misaki spoke the words, but again, his thoughts slipped from their pleasant meal, causing his fists to clench against his ankles. Suddenly, he felt foolish. When Saruhiko approached him and told him that he was the newest member of SCEPTRE4, he had felt so betrayed that he couldn't think clearly. He couldn't see the hope through his anger. Saruhiko and Neirah shared so many common traits that it made him wonder if it would have made a difference. If he had remained calm and told Saruhiko that he didn't want him to leave, would he have stayed?

Neirah was moments from opening her mouth and asking if Misaki wanted to have a go at the game currently on standby, but Misaki interrupted her intended invitation.

"I don't… get it."

She didn't bring him up once. As painful as it was for her to pretend that she was oblivious to Misaki's suffering, she had managed to surface the bitter memories anyway. In that regard, she felt defeated. She hadn't managed to distract him at all.

"If he wasn't happy, whatever, he coulda just left. If he wanted to be a lone wolf, fine." His teeth began to grind as his heart palpitated with acrimonious rage. "But why'd he have to go and join the blues of all people?! If he didn't want to be with us, what makes them any better?! He didn't have to disrespect Mikoto-san when he went!"

Neirah's once sunny expression clouded with grief as she let her eyes skitter over the mess his apartment had become. It was the most visible sign of his suffering. "I'm sorry. I was hoping we could avoid this." When he climbed to his feet across from her, she quietly followed his rise.

"No!" he raged. "It's not your fault. It's his for walking out on HOMRA! Fushimi betrayed us!" His tone lowered when he noticed it was beginning to crack with emotion. The woman sitting in Saruhiko's spot across from him at the table was hurting too, and he could see it in her eyes. It was always in her eyes. "Both of us…" he murmured uncertainly. "I mean… he hurt you too… didn't he?"

Even though her gaze diverted, a mild grin still curled her lips. "I'm sorry, I tried everything I could think of," she whispered in defeat. "But he wouldn't let me in, and by the time I saw hope, it was too late." She quietly raised her fingers to her hood, grabbing the edges to calmly ease it over her crown until it bunched around her shoulders. "I know you think there was something between Fushimi-san and I, but he would never let that happen. In fact, the last time we spoke, he admitted that he would never even consider me his friend." She laughed lightly to help ease the tension she saw balling Misaki's strained fists. "But that doesn't change how I feel about him."

"How can you say that?" Misaki muttered bleakly. Her quiet suffering infuriated him. He hated watching her fight for someone who didn't deserve her devotion. She hadn't asked for much, a smile, a laugh, a kind word. She wanted to be friends with Saruhiko in the same regard that she was friends with everyone else at HOMRA, and he'd taken her for granted. As Misaki became enraged in her defence, his tone escalated with bitter resentment. He didn't understand how Saruhiko had been so blind to her resolve. "How can you still talk about him like he wasn't a complete ass to you?!"

Neirah nibbled on the inside of her lip behind her faux smile. "Because I know what it feels like to carry unnecessary regret with you everywhere you go," she whispered sadly. "I can't speak for Fushimi-san, because I don't know why he did what he did, but I know that's not the fate I want. That mystery is all a part of his charm, so to hate him for something that makes him who he is… that would be incredibly unfair, wouldn't it?"

His molars clenched as he bit back the need to ask her if she was mentally sound. He heard the way that Saruhiko had spoken to Neirah, and she never resented him for his ill-tempered quips. She didn't deserve that. Someone who cared so selflessly, and stayed by Saruhiko's side for as long as anyone could remember… didn't… deserve that.

When she heard his first delicate cough stifling the reluctant curses that he wanted to release from his aching chest, she subtly rolled her eyes to the sight of his tears quietly rolling over his cheeks, and it spun her heart into knots. That was her failure. She wanted to offer him a distraction, and instead, she ended up reopening- no. His wounds hadn't even attempted to mend. They were still too fresh.

"It's not my fault, right?" Misaki tipped his chin and stared through blurry eyes at his tense fists. "I- I mean… you're almost as smart as he is, and you couldn't stop him either. So, it can't just be 'cause I'm stupid."

Neirah didn't know what to say to comfort him. They all knew that something was wrong, but nobody could stop him. It wasn't unlike the way HOMRA treated Neirah before her trip to Nagasaki, so maybe, in part, they were all to blame. Maybe if one of them had outwardly told him not to go, he might have reconsidered. But that wasn't Misaki's fault. It couldn't be. The miscommunication happening wasn't because of words that couldn't be said. It was because of the words spoken without any real meaning. "Please don't give up on him," she softly diverted. She didn't chase his observation away with eye contact. She just quietly continued. "You didn't give up on me, and I came back."

Because he hadn't used his legs properly in so long, they were weak, so after a moment of letting them shake, he surrendered to their buckle. After they'd collapsed beneath him, he slowly drew his knees to his chest, laying one hand over his eyes to try and conceal the blubbering mess he'd become in Neirah's presence. There he was falling apart while the equally wounded woman kept her eyes dry. His best friend was gone, but he couldn't follow him this time. HOMRA was home, his salvation, and their near-mortal enemies were the bluecoats that Saruhiko was probably adorning at that very moment. He couldn't see it as anything other than a betrayal, no matter how flowery Neirah made the transition sound. Abandonment sank into his aching body and collapsed him onto the floor, and it was what kept him there for days.

But Neirah didn't deserve to suffer alongside him. Whether she admitted it or not, Misaki still believed that the love and admiration in her eyes for his friend was more than what she led anyone to appreciate. Even in their darkest hour, she still spoke of him fondly, and that flooded Misaki with protective energy. Her heart wasn't the toy that Saruhiko had treated it as, and he hated that she'd gone unappreciated. Maybe, together, they had failed Saruhiko, but there was no way for them to know for sure. That filled him with defiant animosity, causing his opinion of his friend to turn sour.

"He's gonna pay," he hissed bitterly through his teeth. "He betrayed Mikoto-san and all of HOMRA…"

He hurt you. Misaki was grateful that his face remained hidden because he could feel the burn of fever dusting his cheekbones until he tugged his hat down over his eyes to absorb the painful sentiment. Hana. He could smell the flowers on her collar, and that was the first thing that came to mind. Hana. What a pretty name for a bitch. His jaw locked around his unforgiving hiss. "That bastard…"

Suddenly, Misaki's breathing hitched to the sound of his video game unpausing, the typical background melody resuming as Neirah navigated his character through the level. For a moment after he'd tugged his hat away from his eyes, he just stared at the screen, his thoughts derailing clumsily to comprehend how casually she'd dismissed the severity of their conversation a moment prior. "O-oi, w-what are you-?"

"It might have slipped under your radar, but I'm kind of a violent person," she muffled lightly. Misaki was having a hard time determining whether or not she was teasing him, but by the look on her face, he figured that she was probably sincere. "So, seeing as I will be without relief shy of hunting him down and beating him within an inch of his life, I figured I'd button-mash until I feel better."

Misaki immediately scrambled forward, trying to defend his save file from taking a mark because he'd let someone else hijack the controls. "Whoa, wait! You can't button-mash an RPG!"

"Can and will," she corrected firmly. "Ooo, flaming doom-bird. Which button is the attack one?"

Misaki immediately dove across her lap, stole the controller back and flopped onto his shoulder, turning to face the screen as he skillfully saved his character from becoming phoenix chow. "Are you crazy!?"

"Probably."

With a low and sheepish growl, Misaki paused his game so he could adjust by her side in the blankets he'd laid out to keep his legs from falling asleep while he played. Quite evidently, she prepared to hound him until he appreciated her company, and as previously noted, he didn't have any fight left. The result was his tone filling with surrender. "Here, just watch what I do…"


In the end, Neirah had successfully distracted her friend, and outside of the few raging fits he displayed due to premature defeat in his game, Misaki seemed to be having a good time. Unfortunately, as the hour ticked past three in the morning, Neirah's bobbing head could scarcely stay upright.

Watching him was fascinating. When the games he played absorbed him, he seemed to transfer into the world behind the screen. Neirah supposed that was what serious gaming was all about, but it also meant that it was easy for him to lose track of time. Without something to keep her just as occupied, the yawns started to creep through her teeth.

When she moaned lightly and stumbled to her feet, he didn't seem to comprehend that she was wandering around his apartment. Her maternal instinct started to hum as she searched for a way to keep herself busy, so as she swayed from side to side, she picked up the potential tripping hazards strewn about the floor and delivered them appropriately to the trash.

As she tied off the bag and prepared to drag it to the door, her tired eyes came to rest on his skateboard propped up against the frame. It was where it stayed when it wasn't in his hands or beneath his feet, and for whatever reason, it looked rather inviting that morning.

Misaki paused his game, stricken with a bad case of déjà vu when he heard a gentle pattering against the floor towards the kitchen. His brow creased as he quickly checked his side, remembering that he wasn't alone in the apartment. Then, when he realized that Neirah wasn't where he left her, he perked alertly. "Tsukiyo? Where did you go?"

A hollow clicking sounded and then came the familiar noise of nylon wheels slowly grinding against the floor. When Misaki whirled to face the sight, Neirah was sitting on her knees against his skateboard, her shaky hands trying to steady her wobbly posture on all fours as she slowly scooted across the kitchen. He watched in disbelief as she approached the wall in a straight line, and then finally, she gently crashed the nose into it. When she collided, she flopped tediously to one side against her shoulder, her concealed fists still between her knees as she thumped lifelessly against the floor.

He wasn't sure what he'd just witnessed, but for a long time, he contemplated his approach to the situation before raising his voice. "A-ah… Are you… okay?" He snapped his gaping teeth together when she lazily raised her thumb to assure him that she was well.

Misaki wasn't so sure. The only time he had ever seen her act so goofy was when she caught fever last winter. Because he was concerned, he slowly climbed to his feet and approached the sight curled up on the kitchen floor. "Y-you sure you're okay?"

Her baggy hood concealed her face as she gently nodded her head against the floor. "Sorry. I was bored."

"U-uh, that's… that's okay, but…"

"I'm not very good at rattleboarding."

Misaki's tone grew more severe as she misaddressed his pastime for the umpteenth time. "First of all, it's a skateboard."

"Rattleboard."

He seemed to contract a sudden burst of energy to her sleepy defiance. "Whatever, fine," he snapped. "Still, how can you say that when you've never even tried? You've got super good balance and shit, so I don't see why you couldn't be good at it." He lowered his tone analytically. "Maybe take those stupid boots off when you do it, though. You'd probably break your neck if you tried it wearing those."

With a flicker of intrigue in her eyes, she slowly tilted her head until she could look up at his determination. "You think I could…?"

Misaki growled as he reached out to her to invite her back to her feet. "For starters, only your feet touch the board."

It was pushing sunrise, and Neirah's legs were still rubbery beneath her as she tried to stay upright on the skateboard. Neirah didn't expect it to tilt so freely once she'd stood on it, and she developed an appreciation for Misaki's talent as she flopped about like a fish struggling to escape a fishing line. "Gonna fall," she boasted through a nervous smile.

"You're not gonna fall," Misaki firmly corrected as he held her hands in his. "I'm holding you up."

When he started to drag her across the floor, she giggled to try and hide her overall embarrassment. "Nope, I'm definitely going to fall."

"You're not gonna fall," he reiterated confidently. "I won't let you."

Despite the way her cheeks ignited, Neirah's laughter was giddy between squeals as she fought to keep her tired mind focused on his instruction, which was clumsy at best. He wasn't an excellent teacher, but he was patient with a woman who wasn't taking his guidance seriously. It was somewhat refreshing for her to consider that the typically explosive personality he usually displayed wasn't without its soft spots.

"You're leaning too far forward. Lean back a bit."

"If I lean back, I'll fall," she affirmed.

"Then I guess it's a good thing you-" He stifled his sudden remark, consciously scolding himself for being unable to filter his instigation. "Ah, never mind."

"What? A good thing that my big butt's so well padded?"

His face combusted. "That wasn't what I was gonna say!" he fibbed.

Eee! With a delighted cheer, Neirah shrieked and crushed his fingers beneath hers as she fumbled backwards. "I almost fell that time!"

Misaki narrowly muffled his amused snigger as he tightened his hold on her hands. "Wow, it's like you're trying to be bad. Here, watch me do it."

Neirah popped off the board and watched Misaki glide effortlessly across the floor, lean back until the nose was almost vertical, spin, and then return to her. He made the process look seamless.

"See, it's not that hard! Now you try."

Suddenly, Neirah couldn't contain the wave of laughter to escape her lips. "That's how you're going to teach me?!"

He looked almost insulted as he kicked the board up and pinched it beneath his arm. "Uh, yeah? Why?"

"Okayokayokay," she prattled. "Here. We'll do it your way, then." She bravely took the article, laid it carefully on the floor with both hands and stood in its centre as stiff as a board. "Now, push me."

"What!? I'm not gonna push you. You gotta push yourself with your foot!" He mimicked the action less his skateboard. "Like your swimming."

"How is this like swimming?!"

"Okay, fine! Just try to balance, alright?" Misaki stepped up behind her, laid his fingers against her lower back and peeked over her shoulder. "Ready?"

She nodded firmly. Hai!

After giving her a gentle nudge, she slowly started to roll, and surprisingly, she stayed upright. Misaki tried not to act too surprised that they finally had something to show after two hours of dedication. "Whoa! Hey, Tsukiyo, you're doing it!"

She held out both hands to either side of her, trying to overcompensate for the warble of the tucks. "I am! I'm doing it!"

Misaki watched her approach the wall with a bright smile on his face. "Now, kick it up and turn." He swished his forearm through the air like he was mimicking the motion he expected her to complete.

When Neirah shifted her weight even slightly to try and observe his notes, it left her off-balance, and she didn't have time to correct before she thumped into the wall and toppled from her perch.

Misaki rushed forward with a look of panic on his face. "Hah!? Are you okay?!"

But Neirah couldn't stop laughing as she rolled against the floor, her overjoyed howls filling the room.

When he finally made it to her side, he cocked a brow, watching her roll around like a feline introduced to catnip. He couldn't even believe that she was the same woman he'd met years prior. "Wow, and you used to kill people for a living," he mocked dryly.

Her sights suddenly sharpened as she locked her focussed leer on him. "Speaking of which, if you tell anyone about this, you'll be next."

Even though she'd uttered the threat, he couldn't help feeling grateful for her clumsy distraction. It reminded him that his days with HOMRA filled with experiences similar to the one unfolding in his home. Saruhiko hadn't liked to get involved with group activities, but it hadn't stopped Misaki from making fond memories with the friends he'd made. His heart was in pieces, but he wasn't the only one, and if Neirah could laugh through the heartache, then maybe so could he. Mulling over the good times and wallowing in the home no longer belonging to both of them wasn't the answer.

Life and laughs waited for him on the other side of his door, and if Saruhiko wasn't there for them, that was his own damn fault. He didn't want to miss the laughter that made Neirah's bright eyes sparkle, the memories that Tatara captured for rainy days. In his tired mind, the rain was clearing, the sunny smile at his feet ushering the dawn of a new day. Accepting that, he filled his heart with hate to stop the pain and promised that anyone who would dare to harm the smiles in their hearts would pay. They were his to protect. He was HOMRA's Yatagarasu, and since Saruhiko's defect, the front line was his alone.

Misaki finally addressed Neirah in a low and tender tone that marked the gravity of his sentiment. "Hey, Tsukiyo?"

She flopped over to his sober command in anticipation of his gratitude. Hm?

"You're right. You really do suck at this."