A/N: Potter Day update, as promised!

[Chapter 04]: Home Trail

Classes passed like a blur after lunch, like they always seemed to. Ayato didn't even bother with his clock-slowing. He found himself paying less attention toward the end, his focus more directed toward the droplets of rain racing each other on the window. Being invisible had its good parts—the teachers never noticed when he was daydreaming.

The downpour eased up during the second to last class, and by the time he walked out of the building, the blue-grey sky was only leaking a soda pop fizz of rain. Not enough to merit putting up the hood of his black jacket. The scent of the air was still sweet and fresh instead of coppery, which would give him a little comfort on his walk home. Fresh rain and trees… that was a godlike combination.

He breathed in some of the storm air, then let it out in a defeated sigh and made his way toward the street that would lead him in the direction of his home trail.

His father would be waiting for him at home. Although at this point he bore Yuri less ill will for Saturday's incident, he was terribly behind on his pottery projects. Kimito expected him to start over and make up for the difference in training, despite whatever conversation he planned to have with the Nakamuras about his merchandise.

This week might turn out to be more grueling than the last one. He suspected his father still believed he was somehow to blame, and while he didn't have enough proof or a tangible reason to merit a beating, he could still punish his lazy, clumsy son with more work.

It was dangerous to come home this slowly after class—although today he could blame the rain, and if he was lucky he could convince Kimito he got caught up in a conversation with a teacher. Usually if he broke into a jog or at least a brisk trot once the workshop was in sight, he could get away with his leisurely pace.

It was like the climb up a roller coaster hill before the plunge, except his stomach would drop for an entirely different reason.

"Walking home?"

He stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk, nearly tripping over a nonexistent crack in the concrete, and spun around at the voice.

Yuri stood a few feet behind him, her solid burgundy backpack slung over one shoulder. Rain speckled her uniform, and as she had no umbrella or hood, her hair was wine-colored and stringy. Despite all that, she looked strangely serene.

"Can't keep Lord Kimito Naoi waiting," he said after he'd composed himself. Was she following him? Or had she been standing there waiting for him and he just hadn't noticed?

"I see," she said, smirking as she strode past him. "I've got a curfew too, when my parents are home."

Baffled, he fell into step next to her, trying to mentally draw a map of Akuma and remember where the Nakamura house was.

More like a mansion, actually. The Nakamuras were both businesspeople, so it made sense that they were wealthy enough to afford such a nice estate—but at the same time, too busy to live in it.

They seemed like pleasant people when they dropped by to shop or speak with Kimito (as pleasant as anyone could be with that man). Good aesthetic taste, and Mr. Nakamura was patient where his wife was fast-paced. They had an "opposites attract" dynamic he found amusing, with the husband shaking Kimito's hand while his wife took a business call.

Yuri must really miss them while they were gone.

"Are they home now?" he asked.

"Just got in this morning." Yuri smiled—faintly, but genuinely. "Just enough time to wish me good luck at school before they passed out. I swear, they never think to sleep on the train or the plane."

"So you just had the whole weekend to yourself?" She had said that her parents were busy in the store on Saturday.

Yuri shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah," she said like it was nothing. "From Friday morning to now."

"I should be so lucky," Ayato muttered.

"More like lonely."

"Being with my father is lonelier." He scraped his boot on the road as they passed a crosswalk. Yuri frowned thoughtfully but didn't contradict him. "Our parents should switch jobs."

Yuri perked up, turning to look at him with both eyebrows arched in startled amusement.

"Now there's an idea," she said, a broad grin stretching across her face. "You know, it kind of works. My parents like pottery and your dad likes bullying people."

He snorted, trying to cover it up with a fist, but it soon dissolved into full-blown laughter. Before he knew it, they were both cracking up, him shaking his head while Yuri leaned against the gate to somebody's house for support.

Clearing his throat, Ayato rubbed the back of his head and glanced over at Yuri. She seemed to take this as the "I've still got a curfew" look, and surged on ahead, still snickering to herself. Though he was quick to follow her, he felt himself slowing a few times after he caught up with her. Something about her situation still bothered him.

"So why do your parents leave you alone so much?" he said, after a conflicting—but somehow simultaneously comfortable—silence.

"It's nothing new," she said indifferently. "I used to have to babysit my brother and sister all the time, ever since I was eleven." Then she puffed up with confidence, stretching her arms behind her head. "Besides, I'm almost seventeen."

"Yeah, but what about One Last Child Syndrome?" he pressed.

Yuri slowed her pace, her formerly confident stance seeming to wane. He felt a little guilty at first, but it was her controversial term.

"Apparently, in order to spoil me as much as they can, they need to work hard and make more money." Her arms falling at her sides, she blew a strand of wet hair out of her eyes. "But they do come home for me, maybe even earlier and more often than they're supposed to."

She looked to him then, shrugging.

"And that's when One Last Child Syndrome sets in, hence the curfew I told you about."

Ayato ran his hand through his hair, as if the rain and wind hadn't untidied it enough (it had probably gone from his usual dark green to a shade that often passed for black). It was weird how similar and different their situations could be at the same time. She should be able to see her parents as often as he was stuck with his.

Meanwhile, at least the curfew set by the Nakamuras was made out of love and concern; in Ayato's case, it was more of a protection of goods.

One Last Child Syndrome, indeed. More like Shoddy Spare Syndrome.

He kept that to himself, deciding Yuri had heard enough negativity out of him, and they actually managed a lighter conversation for a few minutes as they meandered the roads of Akuma. About the weather, as clichéd as it sounded, and classes, as well as the ridiculous people in them. Some boy named Igarashi in Yuri's class fell asleep during third period and when the teacher went to wake him up, he found his notebook paper covered in weirdly accurate sketches of human organs. Hopefully that guy was only studying to be a surgeon.

They soon came to the fork in the road, one trail leading into the forest toward the Naoi estate and the other veering off toward the other side of town. Yuri slowed to a stop, a frown forming as she grunted indecisively.

Ayato stopped too, checking his watch. They did both have a curfew to consider.

"It's alright, you can leave me here," he offered.

Besides, Kimito might be waiting for him now that the rain was letting up. The last thing Ayato wanted to do was expose her to him any more than necessary.

Yuri turned uncertain eyes to him, then finally nodded.

"Alright," she conceded, and pointed down the street to their left. "Listen, my place is like ten, fifteen minutes from here. That side of town, past the Maeda coffee shop…"

"The extravagant mansion surrounded by nature, right?"

She grinned. "Yeah, you can't miss it." Then her features softened up a bit more seriously. "Come visit sometime if you need anything, okay? Or if you're bored, or—"

"—or if Kimito cuts me a break," Ayato finished, feeling a smile come over him. "There's a trail with a walking bridge near my place that takes me closer to your side of town. Might be a good shortcut."

"Oh yeah, I know the place," Yuri considered. She crossed her arms, the corners of her eyes crinkling somewhat. "Now your dad's your only excuse."

A pretty heavy excuse, though. An excuse who was waiting on him right now. But there was a tiny, dangerous voice at the back of his head assuring him that Kimito would just have to deal with it.

After a silence, Yuri's expression grew sober. "But seriously. If you need anything—"

"—I'll find you," he said.

Yuri smiled, looking satisfied. "Or maybe I'll find you."

"Somehow that wouldn't surprise me." After all, she'd done it twice today. "What with our blood bond and everything."

Snorting, she unconsciously touched her gauze. Then, turning on her heel, she gave him a lazy, bandaged wave as she sauntered down the road.

"See you around, Naoi."

He stood there for a moment, watching her go. The threat of visible happiness tugged at his features. Still smiling, he double-checked his watch. Stood there for a second, processing everything. And then he broke into a run.

He was a dead man. But a dead man with a friend.

Preview:

"That's way too close to the workshop."

"It would give us a little more time to hang out."

"I can't remember a time that man raised a hand to me for a positive reason."

"I'm stronger than I look!"

"Why would I be swooning?"

"Don't downplay my victory!"

"On one condition."

[Chapter 05]: Pottery Muscles.