A/N: Sorry for being over an hour late! I thought I'd be home before six... Still working on health, and as such I've been kind of stuck on Chapter 22, but it's March so maybe the spring will bring good things. Also, I haven't looked this chapter over, but I'm not seeing any red squigglies... so let me know if there are any mix-ups.

Hope you enjoy!

[Chapter 16]: Turn of the Tide

The rest of the week, courtesy of Kimito, was specifically dedicated to making up for his vacation day. And Ayato honestly did not give a damn.

Kimito could work him as hard as he pleased. What got Ayato through the day with a carefully concealed smile on his face was the knowledge that he got the dose of ocean his old man sorely needed in his life.

Even if his father thought he didn't need a good day at the beach (the fool didn't know what he was missing), Ayato quietly savored the role of the favored Naoi. After all, an important part of good business was establishing goodwill with the customers. And Ayato had just gotten a lot further with the Nakamuras in one day than Kimito ever managed in the last ten years.

God, it took all his sense of self-preservation not to shoot slimy glares of victory over his shoulder every time he left the back room.

Of course, Pampered Ayato died down after a couple of days, finally wrestled into submission by Sensible Ayato. The version that, although still floating from an ocean high, remained productive and was willing to resign himself to the fact that there was absolutely no way in any dimension or lifetime Kimito would consider changing his summer schedule.

"Ayato, we need to discuss some changes to your summer schedule."

He almost wished he'd been drinking something at the time, because that had warranted a spit-take. It would have been much less embarrassing than almost choking on air.

It was Friday afternoon, and he'd spent the morning cleaning clay residue out of the sink and recycling the scraps. He'd been just about to head out front to stock some of the shelves when Kimito's gruff announcement broke their silence.

Ayato paused at the doorway, willing his composure to remain cool. Then he chanced a look over his shoulder.

"What changes?"

Seated at his post, Kimito wet the clay and continued to shape the vase, pressing on its long, thin neck with his thumbs. His concentration never broke. The wheel spun rhythmically, as if keeping him under a subtle trance.

"Summer break. No more school crunching your schedule. You act like you have all the time in the world." Kimito sniffed, indignant, and slopped some more wetness on the neck with a sponge. "All the damn day to do your work around here. An extra few hours and you throw them away because you know you have them. It's the Summer Illusion; it's why you're less productive around this time of year."

Ayato narrowed his eyes. It smelled less like mildew in here and more like bullshit.

"As such," Kimito grunted, running a scraper against the top (Ayato unconsciously rubbed his own neck), "I figure you'll be more useful when put under a time crunch again. Starting next week, I'll be drawing up a schedule with, on days of my choosing, days that have anywhere from three to six less work hours. Do with them what you will."

Turning around more fully now, Ayato pressed his lips together to keep from going slack-jawed. His father was speaking calmly, but still… had he lost his mind?

"However, don't be stupid enough to throw them away. And you have to earn them." Kimito poked a sharp utensil into the neck, widening the vase's mouth. "I expect much more productivity from you under this schedule. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Ayato said, unable to fight a furrowed brow.

What the hell…? He'd been working his ass off these past few days, but Kimito denying his productivity was nothing new. If he wanted to get more out of him, why would he give him time off? When he could just as easily hover like he usually did and bark more orders as soon as he heard things die down? It was too irregular for him to—

Ayato stared a little harder. At the quirk in Kimito's jaw. At the tightness of his fingers. At the eggshell white in his face.

He wasn't calm. He was furious.

It was all Ayato could do to keep from snickering.

Kimito glanced up from his station, eyes darkened and dull. His knuckles grew white around the sharp silver scraper curled in his fist, which Ayato was keenly aware could cut a throat.

"That's all," his father said coldly. "Get back to stocking shelves."

With a nod, Ayato slipped out into the hall. And worked the rest of the day in a daze.

It wouldn't fully hit him for another six hours.

"I would have killed to see that," Yuri said cheerfully from her perch upside down on her couch. "I mean, it sounds dangerous, but in a funny way."

"Yeah, it's weird to see him with a sharp object in his raised fist and still be about ready to crack up. Like laughing in the face of God."

"Your hubris is unfathomable."

Three days into his new schedule, Ayato had already memorized the walk to the Nakamura house and had christened it his sanctuary. The very moment Kimito confirmed his hours and let him loose, Ayato had ditched his work apron and walked straight out the door. For an instant, he'd wondered if Kimito knew where he was headed, but a part of him didn't care. The rest of the afternoon was his.

On the busiest store days, Ayato would work afternoons. The rest of the week, he would get up early in the morning and train in the studio, then help Kimito open up shop and carry things over or run errands. The hours would be absolutely packed, but once it hit mid-afternoon, the day was his until dinner. If he was late, he was shit out of luck food-wise but was still expected to train until midnight.

Ayato didn't mind that arrangement; the Nakamuras had already offered him dinner yesterday. Ayato had opted to feign sluggishness and hunger when he got home that night so Kimito wouldn't suspect he was getting spoiled.

Now, he and Yuri were hanging out in her TV room, talking over the television Yuri had left on the news for white noise. Kimito would've been outraged by the waste of electricity, but the Nakamuras weren't protesting too much. Mr. Nakamura was busy doing online work in his study room, and Mrs. Nakamura was pacing through the entire house while talking on the phone with… a client, he guessed. Ayato didn't really ask much about their careers. But now that Yuri's birthday month was over, apparently they had to kick back into gear.

"I still can't believe your dad convinced him," he said.

Yuri hummed into the pillow she'd dropped on her head for whatever reason. "You've been saying that."

"It's Kimito."

"My dad's charismatic. It's all part of the job."

"Hm." Ayato kicked his legs up on the arm rest, arms crossed contentedly over his chest. "Must be where you get it."

Yuri's head moved slightly, knocking the pillow off-kilter. "Get what?"

"Charisma." He eyed her thoughtfully. "Have you considered doing… whatever it is they do?"

Silence followed, and then a light scoff. "I don't think so."

Ayato raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"I just…" Yuri frowned to herself, hugging the pillow to her chest. "I never want that kind of lifestyle."

"What lifestyle? Rich?"

Yuri threw the pillow at him; he caught it before it could hit him in the face. Not that it would've made much of an impact though. Cute little rich girl and her soft cushy pillows…

"Fine," he said calmly. But he was still curious. "What do you want to do, then?"

"I don't know that yet." Yuri kicked her feet restlessly in the air. She was staring up at the ceiling without really seeing. "Lead. Fight. Protect."

"Cop?"

"Eh…"

Ayato shifted on the couch, trying out Yuri's lounging position. "With your strong sense of justice, and my intelligence…" He paused, grinning when she stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine. But you're strategic and I'm good at deduction. We could be like those partners on crime shows."

Yuri laughed. "Does that mean you won't always be in the pottery business?"

The question, and the hint of seriousness in her tone, made him hesitate. From the look on her face, she could tell it'd been the wrong thing to ask.

After that hung over their heads for a second, he shook it off.

"I'm the one with a safety net," he reminded her, hoping she wouldn't think to point out wealth as her own. "For now, let's deal with you and your indecisiveness."

"Fine," said Yuri, waving a hand into the air dismissively. "No better time to brainstorm. All the blood's rushing to my head."

Sure enough, her face looked pinker than usual, the sight of which significantly cheered him up.

"Start off with listing things you like and know you're good at," he suggested.

"Hmm…" More air-kicking, something she'd never gotten away with in her school uniform skirt. "Cooking. Athletics." He quietly noted the pause as she mentally vaulted over the word gymnastics. "Charisma and persuasive speeches, apparently. And to go with that, writing. When I was younger, I used to like to write bedtime stories for…" Her voice trailed off.

He glanced over at her; there was a telltale glaze over her eyes that warned him she was about to vanish into her memories.

"Back when my brother was doing most of the pottery training, I preferred to draw." He raised his eyebrows mock-hopefully in her direction. "Maybe we could put our skills together and write manga."

That did the trick. Yuri snorted with laughter, raising her head slightly from the cushion to see if he was serious. "That is such a boy answer!"

"Alright, alright." He stared back up at the ceiling. "World domination?"

"Now we're talking. Let's put that as my safety net."

The conversation that ensued mostly consisted of them figuring out a complex hypothetical situation in which Ayato could abandon the pottery business and join her in taking over the world. Yuri looked surprised at first, but intrigued, when he posited that his evil power would be hypnosis.

"What made you think of that?" she'd asked, rather tentatively, and he'd reminded her of the time he'd wanted to use that would-be assassin as a baseball bat. Yuri agreed that "weirdly, I can definitely see you as a hypnotist," which made him preen.

Although he noticed that Yuri was glad to detach herself from the career talk and watch TV instead, he couldn't help but still linger over it. In less than a year, they'd be starting their last year of high school and taking entrance exams. A year after that, they'd be graduating.

But then what?

He knew full well what was in store for him. As Kimito's heir to the pottery business, life after high school was never a mystery. Further education was something Kimito told him not to bother worrying about.

Yuri, on the other hand, was someone he couldn't see not going to college. Her parents could handle the finances, after all. Though with Yuri's grades they wouldn't even have to. Unlike him, she could have any future she wanted. With the entrance exams not that far away, it was better to find out sooner rather than later.

Why he was fixated on this, he couldn't say for sure.

It was just that sometimes she seemed… lost. He didn't want that for her.

After marathoning through a few episodes of a zombie show, Ayato had to turn down dinner with the Nakamuras. He told them jokingly that he didn't want to insult his mother, but really, he was a little paranoid Kimito wouldn't buy two days in a row of missing a significant meal.

Yuri fled upstairs for a minute, then met him outside to walk him home. Clipped to her waist was a small black walkie-talkie. The other one, she handed to him.

"Since you don't have a cell phone yet," she explained when he gave her a questioning look. She brightened, tapping the walkie on her side. "Which is great, because this way your dad doesn't need to know we have a means of communication, and he can't call you asking where the hell you are."

Ayato regarded the device for a moment, grazing each of the buttons. Volume, power, channel… It would be nice to let her know when the coast was clear, or when he was getting out of work.

"Do they work?" he asked, and subsequently frowned to himself. Stupid question. He wasn't sure why it had come to mind.

Yuri scoffed. "What do you mean? Of course they work!" But she faltered then, unclipping the walkie from her pants and squinting down at the screen. She clicked hers on and so did he. "Testing, testing." Her voice came loud and clear through his speaker. Satisfied, she gave him a triumphant smile. "Told you."

"Just a second." He pressed his button to talk. "Testing?"

It didn't come out on her end. He shot her a smarmy grin, feeling validated. "Told you."

"Damn!" She snatched it out of his hands and fiddled with it, making her adjustments. Then she tossed it back to him, eyebrow raised. "How'd you know?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Weird dream."

Yuri re-clipped the walkie to her side and fake glared at him. "Stop having dirty dreams about me!"

"What would we be doing with walkie talkies?" he protested.

For a moment, Yuri looked considering. She eyed the device, a grin slowly spreading across her face, and gave him a very telling look, like "isn't it obvious?"

He pretended to have an epiphany as they started heading down the walkway.

"That's right," Ayato said, nodding seriously. "So in my dream, you were trying to talk dirty to me, but my walkie talkie didn't work."

"There go my Friday night plans," Yuri teased.

He shook his head with a laugh and clipped his walkie to his pants. Hmm, who was the one fantasizing now? Although at this point they'd strayed pretty far from the truth. Honestly, it was just another dream he'd had from that strange school a couple of days ago. A vague chunk of it, at least. He only remembered flashes of lightning and a crowd of students, featuring a drenched Yuri getting frustrated with a walkie talkie she was trying to operate in the rain ("—I'll assume you can hear me—").

She'd also been somewhat disheveled, but that was something he'd leave out if she asked for details. (He'd rather she didn't, because before he woke up in the middle of the night, he thought he'd heard gunshots. Not something he wanted to revisit.)

"It's kind of nice," Ayato said reflectively, while they were trekking through the woods on the walk home, "having someone as flirty as you for a friend."

Yuri side-eyed him, though she spared a warm grin. "Is that so?"

"Hm. It's good practice," he confirmed. "For when I successfully woo Kurimu."

"You know, I think she actually lives around here," Yuri warned him.

He elbowed her in the side, feigning dismay. "Don't start looking around! I didn't bring my love letters."

Yuri laughed gleefully, stepping away from him onto the opposite side of the trail. She gestured through the trees, where he could make out the faint outline of a modest but attractive neighborhood in the distance.

"Midori Hill," she said, "if you're interested."

He rolled his eyes at her. Of course he wasn't interested, and that was one thing about classes starting up again that he wasn't looking forward to.

"But seriously," he continued with a smile, for once not minding that the workshop was gradually coming into sight, "your charisma has been rubbing off on me."

"You think so?" Yuri returned the grin, stretching her arms behind her neck. "That's good. I'm going to want your help ruling the world someday."

"I'm starting to think you're not joking," Ayato said.

"I never was."

Since it was close to dinner and Kimito might be keeping an eye out for him, Yuri left him before the trees broke for the clearing. He noted her parents would probably have dinner long waiting for her anyway, and Yuri made a dubious noise but patted his shoulder as she broke into a brisk trot in the opposite direction.

As soon as he stepped onto the engawa, the front door swung wide open to reveal—

"Ayato, you're right on time," his mother said, venturing a smile. She stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. "I just set the table."

He nodded curtly to her before heading to the kitchen. Though… a part of him was relieved she had been the first one to intercept him. Had she been watching for him from the window or something? No, Kimito probably wouldn't like that.

His father was sitting at the table when he walked in. Without looking up, he made a comment along the lines of "so, you decided to join us" that Ayato mainly ignored. Then his mother came up behind him and they had dinner. Kimito seemed particularly impatient for Ayato to finish, and grabbed him by the arm as soon as his plate was cleared. His "slacker time" was up, and there were kilns to be unloaded in the workshop.

The urgency was setting Ayato a little on edge. Since he got here, he hadn't even been given enough time to put away his—

He patted his sides like a damned drum-set, borderline freaking out. Nonplussed, Kimito stuck his head out of the workshop door while rapping his fingers on the wood.

"What is it," he said, unimpressed in advance with any possible reason he could give him for the delay.

Ayato swallowed hard, stepping into the workshop with a set jaw.

"Nothing. I thought I'd left money in my pocket."

"So?"

He mentally thanked himself for cutting the explanation short on the first go. Going by experience, when he fed one full lie to Kimito, the old man was sure to doubt it immediately. Too much explaining was suspicious. When he said something brief, it made it sound like the answer was obvious on its own. After that, if Kimito asked for follow-up, he'd already given himself enough time to come up with something smart.

"So I didn't think you'd want me to get clay all over the money you gave me," Ayato said matter-of-factly.

Kimito glared at him for the sass, but he let it go and started setting up shop. The relief that he'd believed him was short-lived. As soon as Kimito turned around, Ayato allowed himself five seconds of silent panic.

How the hell could he have dropped the walkie talkie? So stupid! Where did he even…

He stifled a grudging sigh and got to work.

Figures…

Kimito hadn't been bluffing last week about the state of his new schedule, so Ayato was pretty worn down by the time midnight rolled around. Not that he wasn't already used to it a few days in, it was just…

He trudged up the stairs, rubbing rhythmically at his temples. It was painfully laughable, as he reached out for his bedroom door. To picture, in the middle of the forest path, Yuri's voice emanating from a walkie talkie lying all alone on the dusty—

—bed?!

From the mirror near his closet, Ayato had the rare pleasure of seeing his eyes bug out of their sockets.

He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from yelling in disbelief. His mom was usually fast asleep by the time he and Kimito turned in for the night, and Kimito would be pissed if he woke her up. Not out of consideration as a husband, just to throw a fit.

But… this!

He just stood there in the doorway for a minute, gawking at the device that rested gently on his pillow. There was no way! He hadn't… he hadn't even been up here since… unless…

Behind him, he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. He moved to block the view into his room, but then peeked inconspicuously over his shoulder. Just in time to see Kimito emerge at the top of the staircase and disappear into his room.

That wasn't likely either. Even if it was conceivable as a passive-aggressive message to him, Kimito couldn't have gotten his hands on it. This was the first time he'd been upstairs since Ayato got home. Besides that, he'd been nowhere near him before he lost it.

That left but one possibility. The only one with the heart to do it.

And he remembered the way she'd brushed past him, right before they sat down to dinner.

With one last fleeting glance over his shoulder at his parents' room, he shut the door behind him. He wandered over to his bedside, picked up the walkie talkie, and inspected it. Wisely, it had been turned off. He fixed that and turned down the volume to a reasonable level, then sat down on his mattress.

"Yuri? I hope you're still up."

Crackles and static, then a little interactive blip.

"Yeah, I remembered he sets you free around this time." Yuri's voice came through, clear enough to hear an audible grin. "Ready to take over Akuma tomorrow?"

Ayato kicked back against his pillows, smug smirk returning with vigor.

"Just call me God."

Preview:

"Summer is passing way too quickly."

"I'm going to pass on some words of warning."

"Can we leave? Right now."

"Am I taking up your summer?"

"Can't swim on a full stomach."

"I'll keep her in line."

"You have your things you want to avoid, and I have mine."

[Chapter 17]: Take Flight.