Time

January 12th

It had been almost two weeks since the Central Breakwater off the coast of Kōtō sank into the bay. Restorative construction had begun along the shore and partially into the industrial sectors of multiple prefectures to repair the damage done by the upset on New Year's Eve. As Misaki stood on the chilly waterfront, he wished it was as easy to restructure a person.

Since that fateful day, no one had heard from Saruhiko. He supposed the part that bothered him most about remaining hopeful was how ashamed the Blue King was for being proven inferior to his subordinate. Reisi had kept suspicions from the very beginning about Saruhiko's secreted intentions, and despite his best attempts, Saruhiko still lost his life, preserving order amid utter pandemonium. He felt humbled but remained proud. In the end, it was Reisi who apologized to a distraught Misaki for the failure that caused the presumed death of his childhood friend.

The strange part was, Misaki couldn't be sad. It may have been the distraction of mortality that they returned to almost immediately after the catastrophe. Things were a little disorderly ever since that evening, starting with the destruction caused by Genji's flames in Izumo's bar. It was disheartening to see their traditional meeting place in shambles, but Izumo didn't even have to ask the grateful members of his clan to help rebuild.

Being human again in itself was confusing too. Things didn't feel much different, but they were always just a little off compared to what they used to be. Things once familiar were new again. It was like time suddenly had a renewed sense of meaning, as if every minute was another chance to enjoy a new scent or sight. It wasn't necessarily that Misaki enjoyed the view of the open bay that may very well have been his friend's underwater burial site, but it didn't bring him pain.

Something about the peaceful ripples on the river stone by his feet caused a miserable chuckle to tickle his throat. It was nearly disbelieving. He thought it was utterly ridiculous for Saruhiko to die in such a place. It wasn't good enough. Reisi had admitted that rescue crews never recovered a body, but given the nature of Genji's flame, it wasn't unreasonable to assume that nothing remained unseen. Still, Misaki couldn't be sad. He was lonely and a little bit angry, but he couldn't believe that his brilliant comrade could go out in such a quiet fashion.

Maybe that hope comforted him in a defiant sort of way. When people spoke of the tragedy, Misaki startled them by remaining unexpectedly nonchalant. Ehn? Who, Saru? He'll come back; you'll see.

You'll see…

He had to return, and there was no alternative for his vexatious cohort. Why? Because Misaki still had things he had to say to his thick-headed counterpart that he was never brave enough to say before. The night that he discovered why Saruhiko left in the first place caused him to mature in ways that mortality had only assisted when Kagutsu Genji vanished. A lot of people saw vampirism as a curse, but not Misaki. It was an adventure, and since tasting immortality, it opened his eyes to how precious a single lifetime could be. Sure, there was less time to goof off, but the laughter ringing throughout the room when they did was somehow more precious because it wouldn't last.

It was hard for Misaki to take in, and sometimes he just had to be alone with his overwhelming thoughts. Things weren't perfect, but they weren't terrible either, and when Saruhiko finally showed his face again, he wanted to be ready to make him choke on his words. In his opinion, Saruhiko had spent too much time being miserable and could stand to lighten up a little anyways. He wouldn't even be unwilling to teach him if he had the chance. No, when. Maybe Saruhiko's presence was still an unshakable scar on his heart, but something encouraging cautioned that he was still out there somewhere waiting to make a grand entrance and shove the greatest I-told-you-so in their faces.

That thought made him smile, even if loneliness still weighed his expression sombre. Then, he burrowed his fingers under his sweater collar and tugged the material past his shoulder. He peeked the glyph that had stained his flesh on the dawn of that day. It was a pretty intense symbol, and to some, he bet it seemed ominous. But he almost felt like it was protecting him since the day he received it, maybe like a good luck charm. He wondered if that was why he and Tatara had survived their previous illnesses. Sometimes, when he looked at the mark that all vampires carried now, he found himself curious where Saruhiko's would be. He promised himself he would ask him if he ever saw him again.

After lingering quietly on the shore for a moment, Misaki raised his wrist and tapped on his illuminated watch display to scan through his drafted messages. Before the demon had taken control of him that evening on a rainy rooftop, he'd written the words that he could never get past his lips when Saruhiko was standing right in front of him. He thought it was ironic that he was no more successful in sending it through a message, either, but today, he felt lucky.

Misaki swiped his finger and sent off the message that read four simple words that even an idiot should have been able to mutter just once over the time they were apart. Suddenly, as he watched the text vanish to note its successful transmission over the network, he got butterflies. After staring at it a little longer, his wrist fell to his side, and he kicked up the front of his skateboard in preparation to depart.

"It's not like you ever replied anyways," he whispered irritably. "Stupid monkey…"

As he walked away from the sight, his miserable expression lightened more with every step, and he bet that Saruhiko was reading it at that very moment, jeering every word Misaki scripted. Saruhiko was like that. It was difficult for him to find the good in anything, but Misaki never stopped trying. He would never stop.

And when he knelt just a little inland to pick a silver hundred-yen piece from the gravel with the numerical side upturned, he couldn't feel luckier. "Better not take too long, Saru," Misaki chimed on departure. He tossed the coin into the air before catching it in a tight palm, his vivified smirk spreading. "It's not like we've got all the damn time in the world anymore."

Shōhei sat on the concrete step of a nice high rise in a good part of town, his casted arm draped in a sling. Of all the abilities they lost with their curse, he probably missed their healing capabilities the most. Many people passed him by, kind people, and when he said he was there to see someone, some of them graciously asked to buzz him in. He smiled and kindly shook his head, not wanting to intrude. After decades of being dead, so to speak, the reunion he was about to set up was going to be awkward enough. The last thing he needed was Sora grabbing a kitchen knife and stabbing him now that he could genuinely die.

A small chuckle sounded in his throat as he adjusted his cap for about the tenth time before blowing into his frozen digits. To a vampire, numb fingertips might be problematic, but to a human, it was a fact of life. It sure was cold that day, but the sky was clear, and the sun was shining bright. He'd spent a lot of time in the dark as a vampire, and somehow, the sunlight seemed to feel warmer than it did when he was cold-blooded.

His smile didn't fade, but he sure felt antsy waiting on someone's front doorstep to jump up and say, Hey! By the way, not dead! Then, there was a chance that she would have her son with her. He had no way out this time, no ace up his sleeve. The memory of standing in front of her that day was never going to fade, and neither was he. He spent two-and-a-half hours mentally preparing himself with various uplifting pep-talks. Still, it didn't seem to matter how many words of encouragement he muttered the moment Sora's horrified squeal muffled behind the palm of her hand.

Shōhei winced to the familiar sound of the middle-aged woman, and he felt pretty bad the moment her groceries hit the sidewalk and scattered. For a moment, she seemed shocked enough to remain still, and nearly silent save for her hastened breaths. Shōhei took that opportunity to climb to his feet and lightly jog down the path to gather the oranges and a yam that thought they would take the chance to escape.

He returned promptly, hoping that if he were carrying her various commodities, she would believe he was tangible. Luckily, she was alone at that time as he slowly approached with his arms full of her provisions. "Ah, please don't freak out, Sora-chan," he rushed hesitantly. "I can explain everything."

But he didn't have to prove his palpability any further because she was testing his solidity herself by slapping him across his cheek with lavender-scented palms. "Who are you!?" she screeched, although a little huskier than he remembered her. "What do you want from us!?"

When he knelt by her feet, he was thankful that she didn't kick him in the ribs next when he began to juggle the items back into their tote. After quickly freeing his arms by refilling her emptied bag, Shōhei rushed out his quick defence. "Sora-chan, I know it's going to be hard to believe, but-" He yelped when the woman slammed her delicate foot onto the centre of his healthy palm on the ground as he reached for the scallions next. He was mildly grateful that she hadn't jarred his broken appendage during her tantrum.

"How dare you!" she wailed. "How dare you come here dressed like that! With that face!"

Shōhei could hear the pain in her voice as she choked on her tears, and with an apologetic smile, he slowly straightened with his arm wrapped around her groceries. "Hah… there's always something wrong with my face, eh?"

Sora stumbled back, both hands covering her mouth now as she sorrowfully squawked. "N-no… it can't be…"

"Please don't look it up later tonight or something," he whispered. "Munakata-san worked really hard over the past couple of weeks to destroy all traces of our disappearances." And it was true. SCEPTRE4 had devoted its entire central intelligence forces to the task of returning red clansmen identities to them. Even Tomaya got his name back. It came with proper identification, too, so that they could find regular employment and apply for appropriate residency. "I'd hate for you to go digging and think that you've gone crazy or something. I promise you haven't."

"S-Shōhei…?" The way Sora whispered the name felt haunted, and it gave the boy chills. She may have been much older than he was now, but they were still friends, and he had missed her every day that he had to watch from the shadows.

"I'm sorry that I lied to you," he murmured nervously. Though, he'd never outwardly told Sora that he'd died. That seemed a little counterproductive. "I didn't die that night. The truth was, I'd never been more alive." He lowered his eyes, scuffling his feet around as nervously as he always did when he was uncomfortable with his guilt. He was an honest man, and to have someone look to him with such mistrust twisted his insides. "But I guess immortality wasn't all it was cracked up to be, so I'm gonna try bein' a human being again," he sassed spiritedly. "I figured the first thing a decent one would do is apologize to an old friend for breaking her heart…"

The oranges and yam got a second chance at escape that afternoon as Sora leapt into Shōhei's arms, causing him to fumble his gip on the bag. Not only did the bag fall, but Shōhei let out a meek whinge to the feeling of her delicate frame crushing his casted appendage that still hadn't healed from where his best friend had stomped it to pieces. He expected the screams and the slap, but the tear stains on his shirt as she gripped it and wept were strangely welcoming.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, mister!" she pouted, a blast from their past. "So those days when my son said he spoke to- and that voice a couple of weeks ago in the rain-" Then, the spunky woman old enough to be his mother now began to hammer on his chest with weak fists. "You didn't answer any of my messages! I sent them for years, Shōhei! Years!"

After a while, she finally turned her melting face towards him and begged that he didn't fade from her abuse. Her eyes didn't sparkle as vividly, and she'd cropped her hair just past her shoulders, but she was unmistakably the comrade he'd left behind. "… y-years," she whimpered. "I waited for a sign… for so long… I thought it was all my fault."

Gentle palm strokes flattened her greying hair in the cold breeze as he patted her head. "I know, and I'm sorry," he surrendered. "But at the time, all I could think about was saving you, so I didn't think it mattered where I ended up. I promise I'll make up for the lost time."

"You're darn right, you will!" she rattled out in congested tones. "And you'll start by bringing in those groceries, young man!"

A desperate chuckle filled with grateful sentiment coughed out from behind Shōhei's broadening smile as he beamed back at the woman dabbing her tears. He reached down and took her groceries in his strong hand and hoisted them to his jogging side. "H-hai! Yes ma'am!"

Not only was life spared and the world saved, but Masaomi had never seen his partner look so miserable as he sat next to him at some causal bar. They had to do their sulking elsewhere while the repairs on HOMRA wrapped up, but it didn't much matter to Yō so long as they had liquor. Masaomi never cared in the first place. So long as they were together, it didn't matter how fast time travelled because Masaomi was content. He had spent many years comfortable with the companionship, just appreciating that there was somebody beside him. An eternal life alone was a miserable thought, but whereas he was satisfied with Yō's camaraderie, it seemed Yō was yearning for more.

They'd visited Reika's grave when Yō finally got over his morning sickness, and he made some vows that he had already broken. For one, he wasn't going to drink anymore, but Masaomi took consolation in the fact that he had cut back significantly. He wasn't looking for a perfect friend, but since mortality had set in, he would appreciate keeping him around for a while, and his general health would thank him. It seemed like they were the only two people on the earth that could tolerate each other, and that was okay by him.

Again, Masaomi would have been fine believing that, but he couldn't ignore the bright lavender eyes cutting across the bar over flushed powdered cheeks. This woman was not unfamiliar to him, and Masaomi had spoken to her a time or two back when he had to collect his scavenging hound of a counterpart for the evening. For whatever reason, she had an eye for that dog, and he expected that the wristlet she wore in support of animal rescues was only ironic to his seasoned eye.

It was true. Masaomi hated seeing Yō so dejected, but since eternity had abandoned them, it made life seem harder than it was before, even considering their cursed circumstance. He had to hold his head up sometimes and take the health of his liver into account. His mental stability was on an entirely different level that Masaomi wasn't ready to tackle yet, but he wondered if he might not be able to put a smile on his face for the first time that week.

When he slowly rose, Yō was quick to alert to his abandonment, and if he were a dog, his ears would have fallen flat. "O-oi, where're you goin'?"

Without sparing his intolerable companion a glance, Masaomi quietly reached back, opened his palm and ruffled Yō's copper-toned roots with a hard swat. "Idiot," he grumbled. "We've been sittin' here doing nothing but drinking and crying for the past hour-"

"I was not."

With a soft snort, Masaomi rolled his gaze towards where the lavender-eyed beauty lowered her curious glance. "Don't ask stupid questions," he whispered in a mock tone. "I'll be right back."

A dim growl rattled in Yō's chest as he shifted uneasily in his seat and scanned the bar. Since the whole succubus thing, he couldn't even face a woman without first checking to make sure she didn't have a tail. His expectations hadn't necessarily fallen to ruin, but he was undoubtedly warier than he used to be. If nothing else, it would make for one hell of a story one day, that time when he used to be a vampire.

There was a time it was easy to numb the pain by sedating himself with pleasure until he forgot the ache existed. But that didn't take it away. After everything was said and done, with his life returned and renewed, those scars remained on his heart, carrying more weight than ever. What he didn't want to admit was that he was scared. He was afraid of living an average life in fear that nothing would ever satisfy him after knowing that freedom. Then again, maybe freedom didn't mean indulging until you couldn't differentiate between reality and infinity. Perhaps it would be as easy as healing scars that weighed his sober thoughts like chains.

He jarred from his thoughts when Masaomi popped by his seat briefly, only long enough to steal his half-emptied drink, and Yō knotted up his face. "The hell? What took you so long? Now you're leavin' again?"

"Yep." Without making eye contact, Masaomi finished his beverage, laid down his tab and withdrew his lighter from his pocket. "Don't be out too late."

Yō was quick to climb to his feet, irritated that his casual companion was brushing him off. "Oi! You're seriously just gonna up and abandon me for no good reason!? At least have the decency to leave me the lighter!"

Masaomi turned over his shoulder with an unlit cigarette between his smirking lips. "In a manner of speaking." He closed his eyes, his inner sadist giving Yō a chance to sweat out his true meaning as he ignited the nicotine. "Whether the reason's good or not, I'll let you two decide." With his warning and promise uttered, he shook out the flame, comprehending that it felt warmer than it used to on the steel casing. "Message me later."

E-eh? Yō swung around to the nod of Masaomi's chin, and when he nearly bumped into the mousy woman by his reverse, they both let out a startled yelp. "Sorry!" he gushed. "I didn't mean to bump you. I was just…" He threw his indicating thumb over his shoulder. "My asshole friend-" He trailed off slightly as he considered Masaomi's words, and suddenly, his groggy senses comprehended the sentiment his counterpart left behind. She was a pretty small-framed woman, and as hesitant as he was about the similarities, he appreciated that she was a welcoming shadow from his long-lost past. "Ah, it's not important," he muttered in surrender. "Can I buy you a drink?"

The quiet woman let her eyes brighten over her fond smile before she blushed and nodded her head. "I would like that," she fibbed, just grateful to have an invitation to share his company.

Apprehensively, Yō chuckled as he patted down his empty pockets and deciphered even more of Masaomi's encrypted message. "Ah, y' know, me too, but… here's the crazy thing. I always seem to lose stuff when I'm out-"

"Actually, I don't drink much," she admitted with a soft titter. "Maybe I could just introduce myself instead?"

Yō reclaimed his seat, offering her the chair that Masaomi had abandoned, and when the bartender claimed the funds left behind, Yō was grateful that his friend had bailed him out before he left. "I like where this is goin'."

Masaomi inhaled his toxin in the quiet street, folding Yō's leather trifold wallet between his fingers before slipping it into his coat pocket. Many things would kill them now that they were mortal, but drying out and taking in a calm moonlit stroll would not. On the contrary, that was the first time that Masaomi ever really appreciated silence.

The sound of keyboard keys clattering on Saburōta's laptop didn't seem nearly as hollow as they used to. After safely returning home alongside his clanmates, he'd spent three days straight buried in the centre of his apartment floor in a ball of blankets, and nothing was more depressing. It wasn't long after that he decided maybe it was time for some furniture. When grovelling at the feet of his beautiful lover convinced her to continue their impromptu roommate agreement, they moved the bed from her once-confiscated apartment to theirs, much to Tomaya's dismay.

Their apartment. It was a strange consideration that didn't seem to make any more sense as the days progressed. Even as Saburōta checked his peripherals and watched her shuffle around their home to tidy it, it didn't become any more believable. He directed his attention back to his game, unsure why he felt guilty for sneaking a peek at the curves of the woman who warmed his bed every night. It seemed so surreal that he could believe that he was a superhuman less than two weeks prior over the fact that he finally had a-

For a moment, his fingers froze, tense in the air as the altering screen reflected off of his unnecessary shades. Life had moved so quickly while tender footing around their circumstance that he'd never gotten a chance to confess his affection for her properly. It still made him nervous that she hadn't done the same, but after all that he'd put her through, he had to feel at least moderately confident in their relationship until that point.

Still, it seemed strange considering a normal relationship where they went for walks and shared meals. Saburōta supposed that a part of him worried that something mundane like that wouldn't be enough to keep her interested. And that caused him to chew on his lip anxiously. He had to remind himself repeatedly that she stayed. After everything was said and done, she was still by his side, and their friends surrounded them. He figured that was worth a bit of confidence, at the very least.

Suddenly, Saburōta was jarred from his thoughts as Neirah dove between his arms and his lap as he typed. She flopped flat across his thighs, her head on the couch beside him as she hollowed her lumbar and stretched her arms high past her crown. Then, she pinched her wrists together with a cheeky smile while he tried not to get slaughtered by a horde of orcs.

"Are you busy?" she cooed.

Saburōta grunted half coherently as the clashing of two-dimensional steel clamoured through his speakers. "Yeah, trying not to die here," he grumbled. "What'd you do that for, anyway? I thought you were cleaning."

"You looked deep in thought."

"'Cause I'm about to level up."

"You're so cute when you're acting geeky."

The pitter-patter of keys intensified. "Don't test me, woman."

Neirah wriggled, a wicked glint in her eyes as she watched the scene unfold to reflect off his sunglasses. "Bandō, baby?"

Ehn…?

Her tone grew sultry with seduction as she continued. "Ravage me like you're possessed by a demon."

Without consideration of how close he was to victory, Saburōta straightened to stare at the wall across from him, slamming his laptop face down with thoughtlessly mechanical movements. They lingered quietly for a moment as he glared vacantly at the adjacent partition. Shortly after, he slowly bowed his head to check his lap, where she batted her eyes at him flirtatiously. "Wait… seriously?"

A menacing smirk decorated her plump pout as she reached between his arms supported by the coffee table. After poking his nose, she let out a playful snicker. "Just teasing," she whispered.

Saburōta looked utterly affronted when she crawled from out of his lap with a playful titter. "Oi! Don't joke about that kinda thing!"

She straightened in the seat next to him before leaning fondly against his shoulder. "Why? Did I excite you?"

After jerking away from her touch with a furious blush in his face, he sneered his dejected rebuttal. "W-what!? No way! It just brings back bad memories!"

"I'm a bad memory?"

"The demon!" he thundered through his humiliation. "And I'm not that easy!"

Neirah tossed her head to the opposing side with a soft huff. "That's a lie."

"Give me a break, would ya!? You're my first-! Ah…" He recoiled, wishing that her eyes weren't so bright and anxious when they glanced his way expectantly. "Roommate," he fumbled nervously. He turned away from her with a disgruntled snort, feeling more confident when his back was towards her. "I've never had a roommate before, much less a girl one."

With a sad but knowing smile, Neirah scooted closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Snuggle me," she susurrated friskily. "I'm cold."

As desperately as Saburōta wanted to turn, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of bullying him into intimacy— again. "A little cold won't kill you."

"What if I'm somehow still part-vampire?" she challenged.

A haughty scoff rushed past his lips as he threw his nose into the air. "Don't be- Ow!"

Neirah shifted her keen gaze towards where he began to fluster and paw at her face, speaking her rebuttal through a mouthful of his skin. "See?"

"Crazy lady!"

Her smile broadened as she released him and placed a gentle kiss on his affronted shoulder instead. As defiant as he was, she could see the colour flooding his fair complexion as his breathing became laboured upon emission. "Mm, I thought that might get your attention," she purred. Her fingers were gentle as she tugged at his shirt to expose more to her fluttering kisses.

When she reached a small bandage on his neck, she slowly peeled it up and traced her fingers over the light scars remaining from the last time her vampiric teeth ever punctured his flesh. She felt tremors race through his body hard enough to shake the sofa, and when she pressed her lips against the mark, he let his first lusting groan slip from his lips. "You didn't recover these before you became human again," she whispered tenderly. "They've almost fully healed now, but it might leave a scar."

He didn't speak, but he began to relax beneath her frisky adoration. "But that's okay," she added lovingly. "This is still our spot." Another gentle nibble teased his pulse before she sucked lightly on the traces of their past, and soon, he raised one hand over his shoulder to lace in her hair.

"It… is…" he added vacantly.

With a lively hum, Neirah slipped from beneath his touch and pulled her hair from her neck to offer him a shot at retaliation. "Here. Do me now." She could tell by the way he glanced in her direction that he was skeptical of her intentions, but when she lengthened her neck, he seemed to be following again. "Then we'll be even."

Saburōta shifted uneasily, turning to face her on the couch as he fed his fingers through the hair framing her face. He hated it when she put him on the spot like she was assessing his talent. Without her inadvertent charms feeding him confidence, he didn't feel like he had a lot on his own. Something about parting his jaws felt less erotic than when they shared the intimate taste of each other's blood. It somehow felt less personal and a little disappointing.

But the sigh to fill her airway when his blunted teeth gently pinched her fawn skin between was sensual and had an eager breath escaping his chest. He inched closer so he could fold his arms around her, tipping her head so that he could place more possessive love bites on her satin skin. Whether he was nervous or not, she still felt incredible in his arms, and through everything that they'd been through, he thought that was the place for her to belong.

His kisses began to trail, sinking lower until he pulled her shirt collar away from her cleavage to reveal a permanent mark of their involvement together on her right breast. He lingered on sad thoughts for a moment before finally gliding his tongue over her beaded flesh with an apologetic sigh.

Neirah's fingers raked through the roots at his nape before she pinched the edge of his cap between her fingers and knocked it away. "Is it still better than your manga girls?" she teased in a musical murmur. When he shifted away from her chest, she captured the frames of his shades and slowly removed them. "Or do I have to burn up your collection to keep your attention?"

"I-I like you."

The wry twist in Neirah expression began to fade as she absently set his spectacles on the coffee table without taking her eyes from the certainty he flashed. "Yes?" she prompted breathlessly.

"And I… want to be with you." Saburōta immediately snapped his teeth together, lowering his head like he was ashamed for saying the words. Nothing was forcing her to stay anymore, and he couldn't shake that he might wake up one morning to an empty bed. But now that he knew what it was like to lie with her every night, he was afraid of returning to a cold sheet and hard floor. "I want you to stay here… with me," he continued. "Because being with you… is like a dream…"

Neirah's breathing hitched as she watched his nervous eyes scour the cushions between them, and her heart filled to bursting with excitement. Maybe it had taken him two weeks, but finally, he'd figured out what he wanted to say. He found her and was ready to admit that he wanted her to be his. "I like you too," she mewled. "And I will stay. I'll stay with you."

Relief washed over him so swiftly the moment she laid her lips against his that he couldn't help swallowing her up in a passionate kiss that drowned his uncertainty. "I'm sorry," he whimpered through wandering affection. "We might not have forever anymore, but I promise I'll make it good for as long as we've got."

Neirah paused, reaching out to hold his face between her warm palms and keep him steady as she spoke her heartfelt return. "Then, when this world is over, you'll have to find me in our next life, too," she whispered. "And the life after that. Maybe I'll take home from the bar and make bad decisions with you."

He nodded frantically in agreement. "Okay, sure."

"And when you find me, you'll know just what to say, right?"

Saburōta folded his arms around her and buried his face in her chest. "I want you," he breathed lovingly. "I'll always want you."

"Don't wait so long to tell me next time, okay?" she whispered against his crown. She felt sorry for bullying him and pushing him away when she'd known it all along, but nothing was sweeter than those words slipping off his tongue just when she needed them. "Or it might be hard for us to synchronize."

He slipped away from her collar and smiled up at her calmly. Then, he scooped her up in his arms, letting her seamlessly fold her legs around his hips as he nuzzled her adorable smile. "Maybe I wouldn't've waited so long if you weren't so mean."

Neirah's smile broadened with appreciative adoration. "Poor baby, do I bully you?" she pouted.

He snorted and diverted his gaze. "Should I refresh your memory of the night where I saved your life and brought you back to HOMRA? It went a little something like; Hey! I remember you! Then bam-!"

Just as Saburōta got the expression out of his mouth, the edge of the apartment box that he finally used as a proper bed caught his shin, and they both toppled onto the mattress. Neirah instantly erupted into hysterics, clutching his head tightly to her bosom as she wailed her delight.

"Kill me," he muffled acridly against her skin.

"Clumsy," she jeered dotingly. "I swear you were born with two left feet."

"I'm left-hand coordinated, so I was born with two right feet." With a sullen sigh, Saburōta flopped over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. "I forgot how small this place is now that we actually have some stuff in it."

Neirah hummed quietly and leaned over his chest to place a tender kiss on his nose. "Maybe we should look for a bigger apartment," she suggested keenly. "Now that the Blue King has returned my identity, I can start working for somebody other than the Yakuza boss that we turned into a snack last month."

Heh… The faint chuckle caused a thin smile to sneak across Saburōta's face. "You used to hate talkin' about that kind of thing, and now you say it so casually."

A hungry moan sounded gutturally in Neirah's throat as she leaned over him. Then, she smoothed her tongue from the base of his throat up to his chin until the same elated groan rumbled beneath her taste. "Maybe I miss it a little bit," she whispered playfully.

Saburōta reached for her face, pushing her hair behind her ears as she leaned over his defeated body, begging for his attention. It was worth every missed level on every character he'd ever created, in this life or the next. "I'm glad it was you that night," he admitted sheepishly. "I'm glad I found you."

Neirah inched lower by his command and touched her nose to his, their breath comingling between their enamoured smiles for an extended period as she smiled. "So, let's bump into each other again sometime, okay?"

"Okay..."