A/N: I've been procrastinating a lot of things today, but a chapter posted around 6 to 7pm I always try to guarantee. Now, fingers crossed I can write an assignment due tomorrow at 5pm as easily as I can write NaYuri.

Also... Happy Birthday, Zain!

[Chapter 06]: Protective Shield

Late May rolled into mid-June, and with every instance of Yuri taking advantage of their extended walk home without any incident, Ayato began to feel more and more daring.

It was almost like a game of chicken—see how long they could linger at the edge of the Naoi estate before he caught sight of Kimito in the distance or either one of them lost their nerve. Without fail, it would be Ayato who lost, but Yuri seemed to see an improvement.

She even convinced him to stay late to watch a baseball game being held at their school. Yuri was a very, very bad influence.

The baseball team from Kyuuya High School had come to play against Akuma. As such, there were some extra fans in the bleachers they didn't quite recognize. There was, however, one Kyuuya player on the field he had his eye on.

"Blue haired second-baseman looks familiar," Yuri said, nudging him.

"I was just looking at him." Ayato squinted harder at the teen. He wished he had his own baseball cap to get the blazing June sun out of his eyes. Or any cap, really. If not, he could go for a cloud about now, so he could make out the guy's features more clearly. "Did he ever go to our school?"

Yuri scrunched up her nose in thought. "I don't think so."

Kurimu, one of the girls from his class, was up to bat. Lucky girl had a cap holding down her mound of honey-brown hair, and was twisting her hands determinedly at the handle.

"C'mon, Kurimu!" a voice screamed right next to Ayato's ear. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know Ami was sitting on the bleachers behind them.

Farther down at the end of the bleachers in front of them, a Kyuuya girl with long navy hair sent a ruby-red glare of stern disapproval up in Ami's direction. Apparently he wasn't the only one who wanted to protect his hearing. When he tried to get a better look at her, she'd retreated into the shadows and hidden her face in a dark blue scarf.

Who wore a scarf around their neck on a hot day in June? Women were so strange with their fashion choices.

The girl behind her seemed a little smarter, the jacket of her Kyuuya uniform tied around her waist while she glugged soda from a can.

"What are you staring at?" Yuri asked, and he realized he'd been eyeing Kyuuya girls' side profiles a little too long.

"Your bewitching good looks," he said dryly. Sarcasm could get him out of anything with her—plus she hated to be called cute, and her reaction was almost always hilarious.

Crimson pooling in her cheeks, she squinted at him dangerously. "Just watch the game, smartass."

But you are so much more interesting, he wanted to say. He expertly kept his mouth shut, though; as much as he enjoyed teasing her, there was a limit to fake-flirting with Yuri. He'd been giving her permission—no, encouraging her—to not treat him like a glass doll, so there was a good chance that she would kick his ass someday.

To be honest, that was part of the reason he liked to push her buttons. She was careful with him, yes—but he liked her firecracker side.

"Strike two!" Ayato glanced back at the field, where Kurimu still stood with her bat.

Posing in a more hesitant stance, Kurimu's grip on the handle had slackened. She looked over her shoulder, and Ayato saw someone slouched lazily in the benches giving her a thumbs up. Kurimu seemed to brighten, and when the pitcher threw the ball at her a third time, she swung hard.

The center of the bat hit the ball with a deafening crack, sending it soaring into the air. The girl scampered all the way to third base as her teammates—and Ami—screamed. Even the lazy thumbs-upper from the benches—whom Ayato recognized as Hejjjiguchi—stood up and cheered Kurimu's name.

So those two were friends now? No wonder he'd stopped using her chair as a footrest.

When she ran to home base at the next hit, Hejjiguchi high-fived her, confirming Ayato's suspicions.

"I didn't even know she joined a baseball team," he said absently to Yuri after a couple of minutes, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bag in her lap.

"Who?" Yuri looked at him questioningly. She pointed to the benches, where Kurimu sat chatting with the team. "That girl? You know her?"

"That's Kurimu." He'd mentioned his classmate a couple times before, along with her abnormal politeness and red-orange ribbons in her mounds of almost floppy hair. "Same class."

"Oh yeah." Yuri sat up straighter, arching her neck and trying to scrutinize the bench area. "She's very cute."

Ayato frowned. Well, perhaps in an even-smaller-than-Yuri, shy, dainty princess kind of way. Her voice was very high-pitched—

"Oh my gosh!" squealed Ami from behind them. She leaned down and poked her head in, jade green eyes blazing with interest as they bored into his soul. "Naoi, you've been talking about Kurimu? Do you have a crush on her?"

His face seared with red hot embarrassment. Of all the reasons for one of his classmates to suddenly realize he existed-!

"What? No!" he sputtered, waving his arms frantically in an awkward windmill motion. He stupidly almost smacked Yuri in the shoulder that way, but she looked too caught off-guard to care. And she was raising her eyebrows at him, like that bit of information would intrigue her too.

Whatever happened to watching the game? If Yuri and Ami were paying attention, they would know that Kyuuya just got Akuma out and the teams were switching so that Kyuuya's players were up to bat. And the blue-haired guy that had caught Yuri's undivided attention earlier was walking up to the plate.

But no, instead it was so much more interesting that he could be harboring romantic feelings for Ami's best friend. Even the soda-drinking pink-haired girl from earlier hollering at the guy at bat—he couldn't tell if she was cheering or jeering—didn't faze them. Although Yuri did look up for a moment when a shadow crept over them. Clouds were finally overpowering the sun, thank goodness.

"You think she's cute!" Ami gasped scandalously, clapping her hands to her mouth.

"Yuri was the one who called her cute!"

"But you've been looking at her in class, haven't you?" said Ami. She brushed a lock of fuchsia hair behind her ear. "I can talk to her for you if you want—"

"You are being ridiculous!" He slapped a hand to his forehead. "Do not talk to her about feelings that don't exist. Just go back to the game and stop spreading rumors of false love."

Heaving an exasperated sigh, he glared a warning at his classmate, then turned in his seat to face the game. The blue-haired guy at bat was standing there, impatiently tapping his bat against the plate and preparing a recovery after his first strike.

Ami didn't seem to register any of that. "I just thought this whole time that the girl you really had feelings for was—"

THWACK.

"YURI!"

As the foul ball ripped across the field towards their bleacher section, he lunged halfway in front of her to shield her from the hit. She squeaked in shock, but they'd both miscalculated the ball's direction. It veered to their right, toward the end of their bleacher row. The pink-haired girl let out a fearful shriek, throwing her arms up to shield her face.

The blow did not come. Reaching up, the navy-haired girl in front of her caught it with killer reflexes. Half of their bleacher section exhaled sharply; a sizeable chunk whistled and clapped.

After the Kyuuya girl hurled the ball back, she stared down at her hand. It looked like she had black arm guards, but even that would only soften the impact. Ayato heard her curse and clench her hand painfully, then mutter something that sounded like "not again" before she leaped over the side of the bleachers. The last anyone saw of her was the edges of her blue scarf fluttering in her wake before they disappeared along with her.

Meanwhile, the pink-haired girl who'd likely just seen her life flash before her eyes had leaped to her feet in outrage.

"STOP TRYING TO BREAK MY FACE, YOU LOSER!" she screamed, cupping her hands over her mouth.

The blue-haired would-be assassin waved sheepishly. "My bad!"

The girl sat back down, but peeked curiously over the edge of the bleachers. Probably searching for her mysterious savior.

"My bad," Ayato scoffed. He could literally hear Yuri's heart beating rapidly in her chest, or maybe that was his. "He nearly decapitated one of us, and all he says is 'my bad'? I'd like to take that bat to his face." He rubbed his chin. "Or better yet, use him as a baseball bat."

That sounded kind of fun, actually. What if there was a way to convince someone that they were really a baseball bat?

A mind trick, perhaps. Like hypnotism.

"Calm down," said Yuri, patting his shoulder. When he glanced at her, she just shrugged. "You're probably never going to see him again."

Ayato grunted dismissively.

After fifteen more minutes of gameplay, the sky opened up and unleashed an early shower on the baseball players. Hejjiguchi had just hit a pop fly to second, and the blue-haired assassin redeemed himself to the crowd and his teammates by successfully catching it. His teammates cheered and carried him out of the rain. Ayato rolled his eyes.

Yuri hadn't brought a jacket, and although she hardly minded the rain, she was despondent at the popcorn getting soggy. A quick look at his watch told him he was really pushing it with Kimito at this point, so they fled the bleachers and headed down the road through town together. Ami was watching him as they left, so he figured he hadn't heard the end of her relationship gossip, but that was a matter for… preferably never.

They made good time getting a few blocks across town in this weather, but Yuri slowed her pace as they neared the road leading to the forest trail. Shaking her hair out, she breathed in the late spring air deeply.

He slowed down too, running a hand through his own damp hair as he watched her eyes close in contentment.

"The rain really doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Huh?" She opened her eyes again, while her head was still tilted back, and she yelped a little as a drop of rain landed in one of them.

He tried and failed to bite back a laugh as she stopped in her tracks and furiously rubbed it away. Once her vision finally cleared, she glowered at him.

"Not really. I love storms," she answered, once she was done fuming. "They're… eventful."

"Makes sense," Ayato said, considering, as they resumed walking. He assumed she ruled out snowstorms in that generalization. Still, he frowned. "But they would be hard to drive in."

He saw Yuri's expression fall out of the corner of his eye, just for a split second, but she picked herself back up again. He had to give her credit for her ability to be so unyielding. She was too obstinate to let anything keep her down.

"Well, of course I wouldn't drive in one," she said, rubbing her arm. "Not a bad one, at least. I admit, storms have always felt pretty ominous. But I've really grown to like them lately." Then she shrugged. "Don't know what it is, they're just invigorating."

"I know what you mean."

They arrived at the fork in the road, and Yuri marched ahead down the forest trail. The leaves on the trees shook with the wind, dripping cool rainwater on their cheeks, but on a hot day like this Ayato was grateful for it.

"So," he continued, arms crossed behind his back as they walked (he liked the regal feeling it gave him), "any kind of storm?"

"A thunderstorm is preferable."

"What about just rain?"

"Rain's nice. It's peaceful, but less exciting."

"Hmm," he agreed.

"Lightning really gets your heart going."

"So does a tornado."

Yuri laughed appreciatively. "I like the concept of a tornado."

"The concept?" Ayato echoed, amused.

"Just… blowing everything into the air at two hundred kilometers per hour, making a mess and causing absolute chaos." Yuri grinned. "Kind of like—"

"—you," he finished for her.

"—coffee," she'd said at the same time.

"You after drinking coffee," Ayato amended with a grin.

A snicker from Yuri. "Good compromise."

They continued on through the forest in silence for a minute, which gave him time to contemplate what he would do when he got home. If he had any sort of luck, his father would be at the shop and his mother would be waiting to pass along the message that Kimito expected him to "be productive." A code word that meant if he wasn't working on his studies, he'd better be in the workshop. Not just sitting around playing games.

Personally he thought staying in playing games was a perfect rainy day activity.

His inner monologue had been rather sassy as of late.

"So," Yuri spoke up, breaking into this thoughts, "about that little incident back at the baseball game."

He scoffed, thinking back. "You mean when Ami tried to say I had a crush on Kurimu? That girl is far too obsessed with love."

Raising her eyebrows, Yuri smirked at him. "No, but now I know where your mind is."

He gave her a meaningful, "don't you start" scowl. It didn't seem to affect her, so he elected to happily let the matter drop. "You meant with the Kyuuya guy and his guillotine hit." Another scoff. "I swear, the Kyuuya students are a group of imbeciles."

Yuri paused, blinking a few times.

"Déjà vu," she said when he gave her a questioning look. "You say that a lot."

"That's because I'm surrounded by imbeciles," he returned confidently.

She crossed her arms.

"Except you," he corrected, "…usually."

More glaring, along with exasperated sighs that were obviously trying to cover up a smirk. Damp and annoyed was a good look for her. He decided he shouldn't say that out loud.

Then he remembered what started this conversation. "What about it?"

Yuri hummed thoughtfully.

"You were trying to protect me back there," she said, brushing her wet bangs out of her eyes. He could see the grin on her face a little clearer. "That's my job."

That was true. As an older sister, she had more experience watching over the people she cared about. He didn't think he even looked out for his own mother the way Yuri did for him. Then again, it kind of felt like—save for the meals she made—there was an "each man for himself" theme in his household.

"It's a two-way street," he said after a moment, and Yuri smiled faintly. "Besides, I knew I could take the blow."

Her smile vanished.

Inwardly, Ayato cringed at himself, coming to a halt a second after she did. …Too direct?

"I'm sorry," he managed, turning to face her. As she took a step forward, he found himself wishing she would just slap him for it. "I know you wouldn't want to hear about all that—"

She flung her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a surprisingly strong embrace.

A hug… He hadn't had one of those in a while. Years, even. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands at first, his arms staying limply at his sides, until they eventually wrapped around her waist and snaked upward. He pulled her tighter, burying his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder. She clutched him back like he was the teddy bear she likely already had.

He never knew a hug could possibly make him feel so complete. And yet, holding her in his arms in the rain like this felt as comfortably familiar as it was divine.

Yuri pulled away first—if he could help it, he never would—but her hands lingered on his arms.

"Naoi, don't…" Her voice cracked slightly, and she cleared her throat before looking him in the eyes again. "Don't be a shield when you need one yourself."

Ayato softened, overcome by a whole new rush of fondness for her.

"Maybe I just don't want you to go through what I have." He tried to put on a stern face. "You don't always have to be the shield, you know."

"And you don't always have to be the victim," Yuri countered.

When her words sunk in, he pushed her away with a scowl. "I am not a victim!"

She stumbled back, looking affronted. "If the ball had hit you, you would have been!" she said, shoving him back.

"No, I would have been the shield!"

"You're not getting it!" Yuri's whole body was vibrating, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Her eyes were wet, but hopefully that was coming from the rain. "Your reasoning for protecting me like that—oh, don't worry, I get hurt all the time, I'm used to it!—is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He glared at her. Of course it was, it was just the facts. "I'm just saying, better my arm or back than your head."

"Because your back can take a pounding, right?" she bit back, frowning.

"Yes!" he said, exasperated. Grabbing her right hand in one of his, he held his other one next to hers for comparison. "See this? Do you feel the difference? My hand is rougher than yours—because I've been working with pottery for over half a decade. It is impossible for me to get a papercut. If I did, I wouldn't feel it."

Yuri stared at him blankly, as if silently urging him to get the point she was sure she wouldn't like.

"Because your hands are softer, that vase shard cut your finger badly." He pointed to her middle finger on display, which still had a little white scar where the piece had sliced her. "Do you get it now?"

She frowned, looking away. "I'm not a fragile doll."

"Neither am I. That's my point."

Her arms folded across her chest, but she appeared to be begrudgingly contemplating his words. Her eyes closed, and she let out that huff of air she did when she wasn't fully able to argue over something but didn't want to admit it in words. A small huff of acceptance.

"I'm sorry I called you a victim," Yuri said. She opened her eyes then, and let her arms fall at her hips. "I just don't like you resigning yourself to getting the hell beaten out of you."

He merely gave a grunt. That was life; nobody ever said it was fair. "Not much else I can do," he replied.

If he went to the police, he knew Kimito would get out of trouble with them one way or another. Something like that wouldn't stop him—it would just make him angry. And then he'd take it out on him and his mother as well.

Yuri pursed her lips into a tight line. Defeat wasn't something she took with grace. And helplessness, well, that was even worse.

"You don't deserve any of it," she muttered, looking downcast at her shoes. "I wish there was something—"

"The best thing you can do for me… you've already been doing." He laid a hand on her shoulder, which brought her gaze back up to him. A hint of understanding flashed through her eyes, followed by a wry half-smile.

"Fine, whatever." His favorite Yuri phrase in the world, and it was punctuated by a low rumble of thunder that made him shiver pleasantly. She tried to look stern, which was a feat considering her wet dog appearance. "But you know, I have just as much of a right to dive in front of a foul ball as you do."

Ayato winced. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"Hey, 'two-way street,' remember?" Yuri nudged him, a smug grin on her face. "Solidarity. It's what friends do."

"Friends let their friends take hits for them?"

"According to you, they do." Now he was starting to remember where he'd learned his sass. Still grinning, she raised her eyebrows at him. "I'll let you protect me as long as you let me protect you. That's my deal, so take it or leave it."

Considering the time, and the fact that he was dealing with one of the most stubborn women he'd ever met, he figured he'd better take it.

"Fine," he conceded, accepting her outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake. "It's a deal."

"Good." Satisfaction taking over her features, Yuri smiled brightly at him—then tightened her grip and yanked him along down the path as she broke into a brisk half-walk, half-jog through the forest.

"Whoa—whoa—whoa, what are you doing?!" Ayato stumbled to keep up with her at first, more than a little dazed. The back of his mind started chattering nervously when the end of the trail popped into sight and she was far from slowing down.

"Rain's coming down harder," she said innocently. "Just trying to get you to shelter."

Sure enough, he could hear an increase in the patter of rain against the leaves on the treetops. But the unyielding grip on his hand coupled with the determined gleam in her eye suggested ulterior motives. A lick of panic bubbled up in his throat.

"Yuri—" He cursed under his breath and cleared his throat. Really? A voice crack? He was almost seventeen, for crying out loud. "Yuri, this is a bad idea."

They were passing the workshop now, closing in on the house. No sign of Kimito, but if he was in the workshop he could have easily looked out the window and seen his son being marched onto the estate God knows how late by none other than Yuri Nakamura. Though the workshop door did not swing open with a flourish, Ayato's mind was still not at rest as Yuri led him all the way up the slope to the front door of his house.

The house door, however, did fly open. But it wasn't Kimito who was waiting for him on the other side.

Preview:

"Where in the world have you been?!"

"It's a shame this didn't happen sooner."

"This is the most sedentary I've ever seen you."

"Just like his father."

"I don't want him to see her!"

"Was that okay?"

"It isn't you I'm embarrassed of."

[Chapter 07]: Mother.