The night city was beautiful. The buildings shimmered in multicolored halos, the headlights of the passing vehicles reflecting on the glass in hazy dots. It was drizzling slightly, and the dust rose from the moist asphalt.

Kyojuro made his way absently through the rushing crowd of people. The translucent, illuminated by waterproof lights woven around the wires, umbrellas pushed past him, eager to get home after a long workday. The news reeled wildly across the thin headboards, interrupted constantly by ads and snippets of broadcasting shows. Water splashed off the engines of the cruisers, and just for a moment, it flashed with the blinding colors of the rainbow.

Rummaging through her bag, a hologram of a young woman walked straight through Kyojuro. The young man blinked, before glancing over his shoulder. She was standing a slight distance away, also turned around and gazing at him with a curious, mischievous expression. Tilting her head, she smiled slightly and parted her baggy, oversized jacket. A bra and a miniskirt were underneath.

She was beautiful, he had to admit, but Kyojuro shook his head.

Her eyebrows twitched, but her features softened. The hologram waved and, before he could process it, disappeared. Looking around, Kyojuro saw that she appeared on the opposite platform on the other side of the traffic.

People dispersed down the long railing. Some were checking their watches, contacting their friends on their location, others were talking easily among each other, enjoying the view and the evening before the weekend. Many had steaming cups of nonalcoholic amazake in their hands.

His watch buzzed on his wrist, and Kyojuro couldn't stifle the slight surprise. He switched course abruptly, stepping up to the railing and hanging his coat over. Instantly, a drone bobbled up to him, a cup of amazake inside the glass-sealed belly. Slipping the speaker in his ear, Kyojuro gestured with his hand. The drone nodded and flew away.

Kyojuro leaned on his elbows, redirecting the audio into his ear.

"This is Rengoku. How can I help you?"

"It's me."

Kyojuro didn't respond for a moment. His eyes traveled down, into the pits of the city. A purple fog hovered below; it was the paint crumbling off the artificial wisterias, clustering in the air. It created an illusion that there was nothing underneath, even though the lower levels continued stretching for thousands and thousand kilometers.

The drizzle washed over his face, and he raised his eyes.

"What is it, Obanai?"

"Are you going to Hroma?"

"I'm on my way there." Kyojuro glanced at the skyscrapers above. A large sphere rotated slowly on one of the rooftops; it was a panoramic hotel. "You?"

"I'm not coming today."

Stamping out the involuntary hesitation that appeared in his chest, Kyojuro followed a passing freight cruiser with his eyes.

"Why not?"

The man on the other end was quiet for a while. Kyojuro waited, shoulders gradually tensing. He was too tired to guess what his friend was thinking, preferring to experience the anticipation instead.

"Mitsuri… they're letting her out today. I'm bringing her home."

The strain left his chest, and Kyojuro sighed quietly. Despite the weariness from the day, he smiled.

"That's great news," he said, the light-heartedness slipping easily into his tone. "I'll tell the others you couldn't come."

"Thank you."

He hung up. Kyojuro took the speaker out and slid it inside his breast pocket. Taking the coat off the railing, he merged into the crowd without difficulty.

He caught a trolley a little later. It was crowded, hot, and smelled of smoke. The water splashed underneath the wheels, grazing the hems of his pants as the flame hashira stepped out into the alley. The droplets were becoming larger and colder, and the pipes echoed with the gurgling current. Kyojuro lifted the coat over his head, even though it wasn't much help.

The rain rolled down the muscles on his arms, trying to find the soot that was long gone.

Squinting through the swaying collar of his coat and the water, Kyojuro made out the flickering label of the bar. He quickly made his way over and brushed past the twinkling beads of the entrance.

There was no one behind the counter; the bartender must've gone to the back. In the corner of the boor, a young man with large headphones sat with both feet crouched on the chair. He was staring mesmerized at the computer, the glass of beer forgotten in his hand.

Quiet laughter rang from the other corner of the room, and Kyojuro had no trouble in recognizing who. Mentally unwinding, he stepped forward and turned around the counter.

The table was jutted right against the wall. There were several bottles, a plate with meager and barely eaten snacks hidden among the glasses.

Everyone was already assembled. Tengen, laughing, was telling something while gesturing with a glass of beer. Sitting next to him, Sanemi leaned back on the bench. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was listening to the sound hashira with curiosity and skepticism. Giyuu was dozing off on the opposite side of the table, hands wrapped around the glass lowered on his lap.

Sanemi saw him first.

"Finally," he noticed, grinning. His eyes lit up at the sight of the colleague's soaked appearance. "You're fucking wet, Kyo-san."

Giyuu blinked, head nodding upwards, and his eyes traveled to where Sanemi was directed. His forehead creased, mind working with difficulty. He blinked again, then wordlessly set his glass on the table and reached for a bottle.

"The rain caught up to me." Kyojuro slid down the bench next to Giyuu. "Thank you," he added, accepting the glass that the water hashira poured to him. He took a large gulp, and it warmed him from the inside. He glanced up, smirking at the stacked bottles on the table.

"Looks like you weren't wasting your time."

"Unlike you," Tengen laughed, filling up his glass. The bar lights bounced on his jeweled eyepatch. Elbow propped on the table and hand on his neck, Sanemi shot the flame hashira a thoughtful look.

"Is Iguro with you?"

Kyojuro shook his head. "He's taking Mitsuri-san home. They're releasing her today.

The wrinkles at the corners of Tengen's lips softened.

"That's always good to hear."

Kyojuro didn't reply, thinking to himself. Now that he was sitting down, relaxed, and with the tickling, intoxicating smell of alcohol in his nose, his thoughts slackened inside his head, especially the ones concerning Mitsuri.

It was more than respect and friendship that he held for his other colleagues. He loved Mitsuri, though differently than Obanai. Kyojuro couldn't pinpoint exactly how, but it was probably the reason why he didn't feel any pull of revenge when he heard the news about her injury. Anger, yes, but no bitterness.

He didn't doubt his friend's capabilities nor wild desire to survive. However, there was always that ninety-five percent chance of dying in combat. That percentage meant everything to Mitsuri. Obanai didn't seem to understand it, and Kyojuro didn't stop him.

Should he?

Something slumped against his shoulder. His thoughts broke apart. Blinking, Kyojuro looked to his side and saw that Giyuu was leaning on him. His breath was shallow, indicating that he wasn't fully asleep, but he was close.

"Dammit, I gave him too much." Sanemi managed to click his tongue and sigh at the same time while saying that sentence."I keep on overestimating his tolerance." He stretched his arms, yawning.

"Yeah, today's turning out miserable." Arm swung over the bench's seat, Tengen pointed his glass at Kyojuro. "You seem pretty out of it as well."

Kyojuro smirked softly. "You're not wrong."

Sanemi folded his arms on the table and rested his chin on top. He stared at the flame hashira.

"Let me guess. You had a hideous day at work."

The wind howled outside, and the beads swung into the bar with loud tinkling. Streams of water swept across the floor like tides. The rain echoed against the iron overhang, creating a familiar cacophony.

It was quiet at their table, Kyojuro sighed and drank whatever was left in his glass.

"I don't know to whom Shun refers," he concluded, glancing upwards at his colleagues. "It could be the bird demon. Could be someone else entirely."

He looked to his side. Giyuu was still reclining against his shoulder, but his eyes were partly open. A crease dug above the bridge of his nose.

Not lifting up from the table, Sanemi tipped his glass side to side with his palm, watching the foam disperse over the golden liquid. "They played pretty dirty. Setting up a fire... that sounds like a last-minute resort." He tilted his head at Tengen, and a tired smirk appeared on his lips.

"You should take on this Shun." The corners of his lips rose slightly higher. "You can talk about nail polish together."

"No, we couldn't," Tengen shook his head, arms crossed over his head. He was gazing at the bottles, and they reflected in the jeweled eyepatch. His remaining eye flickered at Kyojuro. "You were unlucky. The demon might have been there if you managed several minutes earlier."

Lifting up, Giyuu reached out and poured himself another glass. "Many things would have gone differently if we were just a little bit earlier," he noticed. Tengen sighed and didn't answer, resorting to a long swallow. Kyojuro looked away, his fingers wrapped limply around the glass. The rain pattered outside.


Looking at him, his back turned towards her and the bag the hospital gave him dangling in his hand, Mitsuri smiled gently.

Obanai pushed the door to their apartment forward and glimpsed over his shoulder.

"Let's go?"

Mitsuri grinned, crinkling her eyes, and gave a light-hearted shrug.

All the lights were switched off. The young woman paused at the doorway, closing her eyes, and took in a deep inhale. It tightened in her chest. It smelled of abandonment, as if her lover hasn't stayed here for several days in a row. He probably didn't, preferring to work. Mitsuri opened her eyes, hiding her sad disappointment, and stepped into their home.

Closing the door behind her, Obanai lowered the bag on the kitchen counter. He turned to her.

"I'll get the bath ready. Don't undress until I come back."

Forcing herself to momentarily forget about the apartment, Mitsuri hummed and folded her hands behind her back. She gave him a teasing face. "Hmmm, you're that eager, Iguro-san?"

The tips of his cheekbones pinked, but he kept a straight expression. "I'd like to see you bend over and untie those boots of yours with the gash on your stomach."

Oh. Mitsuri went red to the roots of her hair. The folds on Obanai's mask twitched, revealing the small smile, and the love hashira wanted to vanish into thin air.

"I'll be fast," Obanai said shortly, already heading towards the bathroom.

"O-okay," Mitsuri stuttered. She took several deep breaths to get more oxygen into her circulatory system and cool herself down. The young woman had no idea if that was actually what was going on, but she did feel somewhat better.

The rubber on the soles of her boots squashing quietly against the linoleum, Mitsuri walked over and opened the refrigerator. Her eyes slid unenthusiastically over the shelves, taking note of the ascetic scenery. Way to go, Obanai.

She sighed and took a can of fish food from the pocket. Tucking away the guilt from walking with boots on, she crossed the room and stopped next to the tall, rectangular aquarium next to the window. The fish, tails veiling around the bright, rippled bodies, swam lazily through the water. Mitsuri quietly tapped the glass. The fish didn't react, the translucent tails swaying around the cruisers drifting behind the window.

The large eyes lowered. In silence, the young woman ripped the lid off the can and slipped it into the slot at the lower edge of the aquarium. There was a rumbling sound, and then a small valve, hidden in between the rocks and sea flower, squirted the food outwards.

The fish changed their trajectory somewhat, circling around the pieces of food swirling in the water. The reflection of the woman gazed at them. A strange, thoughtful expression was written within her features, and her fingers pressed slightly on the glass.

"Mitsu?"

Mitsuri craned her neck back. A towel hung down his shoulders, and his sleeves were rolled up. Her pink bathrobe was slung over his arm, and droplets of water glimmered on his hands. His eyes slightly tightened in concern.

"Are you alright? Did the wound start hurting again?"

"Oh no, no!" Mitsuri whirled around, giving him a wide smile and ignoring the dashing pain in her ribs as she did that. The foil lid from the can shivered between her fingers, some of the food smearing over her fingers. "I was just feeding the fish." She did her best pout. "Those ingrates already forgot about me."

Obanai frowned. "We can always fry them, you know."

Mitsuri giggled, but she couldn't hold back the sad ring from it. Obanai regarded her for a moment, then turned around and motioned with his shoulder.

"Let's get you ready."

His voice was kind. Mitsuri obediently nodded and, giving her steps a small bounce to calm him down, walked up to him. Obanai waited until she reached him before disappearing into the bedroom. For a split second, Mitsuri's eyes lingered on the dark room, illuminated only by the flashing, kaleidoscopic lights of the skyscrapers, before following him to the bathroom.

It was too bright. Through the scrunched eyelids and raised hand, Mitsuri saw a bathtub full of water, the welcoming steam curling off in barely visible whisps. A tender smirk crossed her lips as the young woman lowered her arm.

"I can't recall the last time I took a bath," she admitted softly, dropping the foil lid into the trash can and sitting down on the toilet lid. Setting the towels and bathrobe next to the sink, Obanai crouched to her feet and began unraveling the bootlaces.

"We took it together. Remember? On our anniversary."

Mitsuri blinked. Her cheeks and neck went red, and she shrank, wrapping her body with her left hand and bringing her legs together. At the movement, the laces slipped accidentally from his fingers.

"No," Mitsuri replied almost inaudibly. Shame recoiled inside her stomach, and the bandages underneath her shirt rubbed uncomfortably underneath her chest. "I don't."

She shivered as his hand took her softly, but firmly underneath the knee. The rim of the boot grazed against her skin. Obanai slightly lifted her leg and carefully guided it out of the boot. Just as delicately, he placed her leg back down, and her toes seeped in the warmth from the heated floor.

"That's not a problem." Obanai moved on to the next boot, diligently untying the triple knot that she once made out of paranoia. "We'll take it again."

Mitsuri stared at him for a minute, trying to discern if he was angry with her. Slowly, her shoulders slouched downwards in quiet relief.

The young woman silently flexed her muscles, helping him pull her leg out of the boot. Obanai took the two by the top flaps and, turning around on his knees, set them delicately next to the wall. Suddenly, he jolted from surprise, sensing her fingers gliding through his hair.

"Shhh, don't fidget." Her voice was quiet. Obanai submissively relaxed, one leg slipping down so that he could comfortably sit on the floor, and reclined his head against her knees. Holding his hair with one hand in a small ponytail, Mitsuri tugged off the band from one of her braids and swiftly tied his hair up.

Her fingers slid down to hold his face, and he lifted his head to look at her. Mitsuri gazed into his mismatched eyes, before leaning forward. Her lips brushed the eyelashes of the right, nearly blind eye. Up close, she saw how the neurotic filaments that connected his vision with that of the snake wavered; however, the human pupil shrank, focusing solely on her.

"Mitsu," Obanai rasped, voice inaudible in the scorching breath. His fingers dug unconsciously into her knee until it hurt. Her heart bled.

Through clenched resolve, Mitsuri pulled away. He didn't protest, his eyes drilling into hers. Her gaze dropped on her lap.

Slightly shaking from unexpected shyness, her fingers rose slowly to the top of her blouse. One by one, she undid the buttons, the blouse loosening at her sides. He watched her silently, then, as she was shaking off the sleeves, reached forward. His hands traveled up her back, and, in a nimble motion, unhooked her bra.

Mitsuri's breath caught in her throat, but Obanai was looking away, placing the bra on top of the bathrobe. His eyes slid back. The young woman saw a ripple run across his features, but he suppressed it. Obanai reached forward again and carefully untied the bandages on her abdomen. He paused when the wound appeared.

"It's okay," Mitsuri comforted him quietly. Her hand wrapped around his, lying limply on top of her lap and clutching the bandages. "It doesn't hurt that much. Honestly."

Obanai glanced up at her, and his eyes were so dark that she nearly flinched. A moment later, as if catching her unspoken fear, he softened and even gave a brief smile.

"Fine. I'll believe you."

Obanai helped her stand up, and, while she tied all the braids into one big, messy bun on the top of her head, he removed her skirt and underwear. Wrapping her arm around his neck, Mitsuri tentatively stepped into the bath.

The water splashed at her ankles, then at her thighs, until it finally covered her wound. Mitsuri hissed, fingers pulling down his collar.

"It hurts," she mumbled. Her face scrunched up, and for a moment, her voice became childish. "It hurts."

Obanai nudged her gently in the neck, and she whimpered, pressing her forehead to his. When he felt that the grip around his back slackened, the snake hashira carefully released the young woman. Lathering his hands with soap, he rubbed her shoulders and lower back. Mitsuri sighed, closing her eyes, and leaned back on his arm. Keeping that arm fixed, Obanai passed his other hand across her collarbones, the soap staying in transparent bubbles across the skin. He carefully washed the area around her wound.

"You can lie down," Obanai said finally, dropping his hand into the water. It immediately went murky from the soap. Mitsuri hummed, lazily opening her eyes. The snake hashira slowly lowered his arm, and the back of her head softly touched the inner wall of the tub. The soap spread unhurriedly across the water.

Mitsuri sighed in contentment and tilted her head. The man was sitting silently next to the bathtub, watching her. The corners of her lips rose slightly. Water rolling off her arm, Mitsuri reached forward and looped her finger through the strap of his mask.

Obanai took the mask wordlessly from her hand and placed it on the toilet lid. His mouth relaxed, and the scars pulled upwards as he smiled.

Mitsuri held him by the elbows as she stepped out of the bathtub. He immediately wrapped her with the towel, making sure not to scratch the abdomen as he dried her body.

Mitsuri heard it first.

"Isn't that the watch?" She asked in surprise. Obanai paused, discerning the sound from the bedroom, then frowned.

"I'll be right back," he promised and slipped out of the bathroom. Hanging the towel on the hook, Mitsuri shuffled into her pink bathrobe and pressed the button on the wall to activate the drain. While the water flushed loudly, sucked in by the funnel in the tub, Mitsuri drew a happy face on the foggy mirror. Smiling, Mitsuri turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

The bedroom was empty; Obanai must have walked out into the kitchen. Finding her way in the dark, Mitsuri lowered down on the bed. The bathrobe parted slightly at her legs, she stared at the ceiling. It was streaked with faint, colorful hues that shone from the window.

Coat hanging over his arm, Obanai walked in. For a moment, he looked confused, not understanding why the bathroom door was open.

"Over here," Mitsuri chuckled. Obanai turned in the direction of her voice, and she saw how his silhouette relaxed in relief. He walked up and sat down on the bed next to her.

"Who was it?" Mitsuri asked in curiosity, trying to discreetly find his hand.

"Urara. She was asking about your well-being."

Her fingers bumped into the side of his palm, and she quickly kneaded them through the gaps in his fingers.

"And what did you say?"

"That you're okay."

"Oh my lord." Mitsuri lifted up on her elbows so that he could see her reproachful face. "You could've comforted her more than that."

"I was stating the facts," Obanai retorted. Mitsuri sighed and laid back down. Her eyes rose back at the ceiling.

"What time is it?" She asked after a little while. Obanai didn't answer right away, and his fingers clenched hers slightly.

"Almost twelve."

Her stomach dropped slowly. His shift would begin soon, and he took work more seriously than her. Even if he'd stay for her sake, she'd never recover from the guilt. But now, she didn't have the strength to send him away, pretending to be cheerful. And he wasn't budging.

The moments of silence ticked on. Her fingers, afraid to move, lay lifeless inside his hand. Mitsuri gazed at his dark form, unable to tell anything except the faint, green glimmering within the partly cybernetic eye.

"Obanai."

It was the darkness. Otherwise, she wouldn't have allowed herself to kiss him back instead of pushing him away.

Passing her tongue into his mouth, Mitsuri kissed and kissed him, pulling him closer and closer to her, on top of her. Obanai finally had to support himself by the arms, and the bed dipped as he pressed his knee in between her thighs.

Mitsuri turned her head, releasing her lips.

"You need to go," she whispered, looking away. The city lights swayed unchangingly outside the window, reminiscent of a phosphoric, equatorial ocean. His mouth sucked on her neck, and Mitsuri arched into his body.

"You need to go," she repeated, her words almost inaudible in the breath. She felt him close his eyes against her skin. The sheets ruffled as he straightened out.

"Try to fall asleep," he said quietly, after a short silence. Mitsuri nodded, not trusting her voice. The bed creaked as he stood up. Mitsuri followed his figure with her eyes as he walked over to the door. Taking the handle, Obanai paused and looked over his shoulder.

"Good night, Mitsu."

"Good night," she managed. The door closed quietly after him. Her eyes bore the ceiling without seeing anything.

Outside their apartment, as Obanai ran down the twisted alleys, he only had one thought in his mind.

He would find that demon.


A/N: Hello, hello!

Another relatively peaceful chapter for this week. Occasional breathers are needed before we storm into battle ;)) Jokes aside, I wanted to zoom a little bit into characters without extra stuff (like action, skyscrapers, and various demons) distracting from them.

As always, thank you very much for reading!