As she waited for her phone to turn on, Mizore stared at the black, backlit screen, her teeth clamping down hard on her bottom lip. She sat in the corner of the hotel room, legs drawn up onto the cushion in a tight cross and hunched over the tiny light awaiting its bloom into proper function.

Ikko reclined on one of the beds, headphones plugged in at Mizore's request. He tried his best to stay concentrated on his games. Whenever his curiosity got the better of him, he unhooked an earbud and opened his mouth to talk, only to think better of it and leave Mizore to her devices. The stalemate lasted until her phone finally burst into life. Mizore drew a sharp breath, disturbed by the rustle of the duvet as Ikko sat up properly. "What's changed?" he asked, "You were dead set on avoiding this, weren't you?"

"I was." Her concession took root in her stomach, twisting around her insides and tightening its hold. It was almost enough to make her rethink the entirety of the evening's resolve. "But you got me thinking about all this. About what I've put myself through."

He didn't understand. His brow furrowed in thought. "Whenever things got tough," Mizore explained, replying to his silent question, "They've been there. Always, without fail, even when it seemed like I had nothing left, I've always had them.

"Now I've gone and cut them out because of how I've been hurting, when they're the people who know me best. I should never have tried to push them away, not when all they were doing was trying to reach me. Trying to understand why I looked so sad."

She opened her contacts, scrolling until she found Tsukune's number. "Like you did, Ikko," she finished, smiling up at him, "You wanted to know why I was hurting, just like they did. If I can speak to you, then the least I can do is reach out to them."

He nodded, solemn in his understanding. He replaced his headphones without another word, going back to his game. Mizore hit the call button before she could think better of it, jamming the phone against her ear.

One ring. Two… what would she say? What could she say, after so long spent away from him? How could he possibly respond, except with anger?

Three rings. Four. She was about to hang up when the fifth ring stopped short, and the sounds of wind on a microphone filled her ear. She picked out muffled chatter in the background.

"Hello?"

Her heart stopped. His voice was soft and cautious, as warm as the day they'd first met. Hearing it caused a rush of excitement that trapped her next breath, freezing the words she wanted to say in her mouth.

"Hello?" Tsukune repeated. "Mizore?"

"Tsukune." She choked on the syllables. Months of distance crashed together in the space of a few moments, and at last she could picture him standing on a balcony, smiling into his phone.

He sounded restrained as he spoke, as if holding himself back. Her free hand gripped her dress, tight enough to turn pale knuckles bare white. "How are you?"

"Fine," she whispered. Sniffed. "I'm okay. I'm okay, yeah. How are you?"

"I'm good," came the stiff answer. Then, more gently. "I missed you. We missed you."

She drew her knees up tighter. Her excuses for keeping away surfaced, rearing their wounded, bloodied heads with feeble cries of 'I was busy', 'I needed time', 'I was studying'. Mizore forced each of them down, plunging into the depths of her buried sincerity. "I missed you too."

Tsukune laughed, and for lack of anything better to say, she laughed with him. Mizore leaned back into the cushion of her seat, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. "You've been busy," Tsukune asked, "Ruby was telling me about Yokai's latest human?"

"Oh, yeah. The headmaster's mistake, of course," she sighed, "And he wants me qualified as soon as. Not that I'm complaining, but… I'm complaining."

He chuckled. "Sounds like you need a day off. Are you taking care of yourself?"

"You sound like Ruby."

"Only because I care about you."

Mizore bowed her head. "I thought I was," she breathed, "But all I ended up doing was making it worse."

"Making what worse?"

"You know-" a loud voice shrieked on the other end of the call. Mizore jerked the phone away, surprised and interrupted, as a woman's shouting carried over the line.

"Tsukune! We've been waiting forever! Are you coming to party or what? Who are you talking to?"

"Er, Kurumu – it's Mi-"

"Whatever, I don't care! C'mon, we're all waiting for you! Wait, did you say 'Mi'?"

Mizore laughed as Tsukune babbled his way through an answer. She cut through his noise by raising her voice, drawing a strange look from Ikko. "Tsukune? Tsukune! Put me on speaker."

"Okay- hang on, Kurumu, it's- no, it's not Miho, it's – there!"

"Kurumu?" Mizore asked. At once, the succubus's voice died, as if the name had been a dagger through the heart. For one glorious moment, silence prevailed. "It's me, Kurumu. Been a while."

"Mi-" Kurumu seemed to choke on her words, "Mizore?"

Her shouting heralded a great clattering and trumpeting of surprised voices as all swarmed out to the site of the call. She heard Gin and Ruby, Yukari and Moka, and strangled complaints from the man crushed at the centre. A jumble of questions drowned the call into incoherent static, making Mizore laugh – and before she could stop it, she cried in earnest, heart bursting with the joy of the reunion.

"Okay, okay!" she eventually shouted, causing Ikko to jump. "One at a time, please. God, you're all so loud…"

"Spoken like a true teacher." Kurumu huffed. "Where have you been? We've been worried sick!"

"I've been working. Who's there with you?"

"Tsukune, Moka – Ruby and Yukari, Gin and San! San's here, say hi!"

"Hello, San," Mizore choked, wiping her eyes. She waited for someone to read her response.

"She wants to know when we'll see you."

"Soon, I hope!" Gin hooted, "I miss my Ice Queen!"

"You'd miss anything with a pair of legs," she sighed, "Anyway, I- oh!"

She jolted, looking bleary-eyed up at Ikko. In one hand he clutched a fistful of tissue – with the other, he gestured to the door, mouthing the words, "Food's here."

"R-right. Thanks, Ikko. Sorry guys, I have to go. I ordered pizza."

She endured the collective groan, and made several promises to catch up with the individuals of her long-lost friends before hanging up. "Wait!" Kurumu cried, "Who's Ikko-"

Mizore hung up, sighing. She dabbed her eyes, blew her nose, then smiled up at Ikko. He watched her, a cocktail of concern and elation in his brown eyes. "I'm okay," she sniffed, "I'm okay."

"Sound like a lively bunch," he grinned.

"You were listening?"

"Was hard not to." An impatient knock at the door reminded them both of their meal. Mizore threw Ikko her purse, which he caught with a fumble.

"I'm going to clean up. D'you mind?"

He shook his head. Mizore darted into the bathroom, her mouth aching from the smile that relentlessly pulled at her.

They pushed the twin beds together and set the largest pizza box Ikko had ever seen between them, sides assorted according to orders and preferences either side. "How are we going to eat all this?" Ikko mumbled.

Mizore shot him a look. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

They snorted a laugh. Since returning from the bathroom, Mizore had found herself possessed by the same giddy cheer she'd once felt returning to Yokai as a student at the start of every year. Hearing her friends' voices again refreshed her, instilled her with an energy that she so desperately struggled to muster on her own. "Help yourself," Mizore gestured, opening the box and grabbing a slice.

Ikko quickly followed suit, but it became clear that his mind wasn't on the meal. After only a few bites, he spoke tremulously, tentatively, "H-how are you feeling?"

"Mm." Mizore swallowed. "Better, thanks. Sorry I made you cut things sort."

He shook his head, "I'm glad we did. You look better."

Her eyes closed with the smile that followed. "It's thanks to you."

Another shake of his head, vigorous enough to toss his untidy mop of hair back and forth. "This was you," he murmured, gesturing with his pizza, "You wanted to call them."

"I couldn't have done it without you," she disagreed, "You reminded me what my friends were always there for. What you've been there for."

Ikko suddenly took a greater interest in his food. Contended, Mizore helped herself to some more and they ate, for a time, in comfortable silence. Throughout this, her phone buzzed relentlessly. Her call has burst the dam; now all her Yokai friends, all those present at the call, drowned her phone with messages. She stuffed it under her pillow for the moment. Her friends could wait. "Did you have anyone like that?" she asked, returning to present company, "Back in the human world."

"No," Ikko murmured glumly over some garlic bread.

"No-one?"

"I got moved around a lot, with my folks and all. I had to go where business took 'em." He mused over the next bite. "There was this one girl, um… at my last school before Yokai. She was nice, but we didn't get much time before I got shipped off."

Mizore's brow pinched. "Lucky thing," she said, trying to keep them on the positive, "You've got the whole Writing Club, now. Yokai might not be the safest place for a human, but you have your friends."

"I do." He breathed, smiling down at the gap in his crossed legs. "And I have you, too."

She softened. "True."

Ikko finished his last few slices, growing more reticent – or more full, she couldn't tell – with every bite, then rested against the headboard of his bed with a slight huff. Mizore began to reach for her phone, thinking now a safe time to answer her texts, when he asked, "What are they like? Your friends."

"My friends? Like Tsukune?"

He nodded, timid. She regarded him, thinking – was this because of what Ruby had told him about Tsukune being a human? And what was that distant glaze over his eyes?

She looked at her phone, checking the time first, when she saw a photo attached to one of the texts. A smile crept over her lips. "I'll show you."

"Huh? Hey!" Ikko leaned away from Mizore, who began to crawl over to his side of the bed.

"Scoot – c'mon, scoot. It's no big deal." She plopped down next to him, brushing her hair back over her shoulders, and leaned sideways to put her phone in front of them. "See?"

Ikko's flinching eventually lost to his curiosity. He huddled closer, inching forwards to better see the photo. "Is this-"

"Yeah."

A collection of grown faces beamed and laughed up at them. Ikko's memory of the Newspaper Club paled in comparison to this photo. Each of them seemed so different, so… complete. Tsukune and Moka, arm-in-arm, smiled at the very centre. He almost didn't recognise them; Tsukune with his light brown hair, Moka with cherry-tipped silver, each leaning into the other's head. He spied two pairs of sharp fangs in their toothy grins. "I thought Tsukune was human?"

"Was." Mizore confirmed. "He's something… a little different."

"What is he?"

"Vampire," she pointed at Moka, "Like her. That's Moka – it was her blood that kicked it all off. Tsukune very rarely got out of things unscathed, and he was a magnet for trouble. If things got back, she'd inject her blood into him to speed his healing."

"So that's what Ruby was talking about." Ikko murmured. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Mmhm. It was touch and go in our first year, but Tsukune had some help mastering it. Now he's a full-blooded vampire."

"A vampire…" Ikko intoned, "Are they strong?"

"Some of the strongest," Mizore nodded. Still warm from her reconnection, she elected to move on before she succumbed to the wounds that dragged her away. "You've got Kurumu, there." She pointed to the woman squeezed into a cocktail dress, "You know Ruby and Yukari – oh, there's Gin. Gin Morioka, between Moka and Kurumu."

He considered the editor of Under Moonlight. Of the bunch, his smile seemed the readiest – and just where was his hand straying, sneaking behind Kurumu's back? "Who's that girl in front of him?" Ikko asked, pointing to the short-haired girl.

"That's San Otonashi. She'd graduated by the time we met her. She was in the year above Gin, used to run the Newspaper Club."

"That was your club, right? All of you."

"Mhm. I used to read it before I met Tsukune properly." She scratched her cheek, shuffling to get more comfortable. She set her phone down, bringing her knees together. "You remember my scrapbook? The one Kotsubo destroyed?"

"Yeah?"

"I asked if you read it 'cuz of the things I used to write in it," she admitted, "That's how I first got to know him – at least, an idea of him. I'd had a, uh… I didn't attend the first semester. Missed most of it because of Kotsubo. Miss Nekonome, my homeroom teacher, used to drop off the Yokai Times. I read some of Tsukune's articles, and they really stuck with me. He always sounded like the underdog, like he wrote for the weakest of us. Really struck a chord with a girl who couldn't even get out to class for how she felt."

Ikko daren't speak, not when Mizore was opening her heart to him in a way he'd never expected. This whole evening had been one revelation after the next. He tried to shift, for she had nudged her way into his shoulder, and sat so close that her head nearly settled in the crook of his neck, but even that carried the risk of disturbing her train of thought. Su's teasing playing like a skipping record in his mind, he tried to focus on the most important thing in the room – her words.

"I came out in my second semester to meet him. I'd pushed my luck, really. The threat of expulsion gave me a good reason to find an excuse. Figured I'd meet the guy who'd written all these wonderful things." She smiled fondly, reminiscing, barely aware of Ikko as she spoke. He knew she was speaking for her sake, picking apart the wounds that she'd tried so desperately to hide, letting them bleed their last. "One thing led to another. He saved my life from Kotsubo – he was none too happy to see me again."

Ikko made a small noise. His arm felt numb. He tried to move it, shifting ever so carefully against her side. She slipped closer, nestling into his side, letting his arm slip over her back to cradle her shoulder. Every thought froze where it was. "I fell in love with him," Mizore whispered, sighing, "Who wouldn't? A human surviving in a world of monsters, all the while trying his best for his friends. Trying to save them, trying to help them, filling their days with smiles. He's impossible not to love. Even those who hated him ended up seeing his side."

"Sounds like the headmaster."

"You're not wrong. Even now, after," Mizore sniffed. "After he and Moka got together, he's still worrying about me. He knows why I'm hurting, but he won't let it rest."

"How long has it been?"

"They finally got their act together at our graduation ceremony," Mizore recounted, "But it was obvious from the end of our second year. They only ever had eyes for each other, especially after everything they went through. Seeing that – seeing them – it hurt, y'know? I knew, though. We all knew, but it still hurt. After graduation I went back to my mother's and didn't look back. I didn't know what to do with myself. They tried to stay in touch with me. Calls, letters, texts, invites, but you spend enough time ignoring anyone, they get the hint. Ruby was the only one who didn't give up."

"Why?"

"She's good like that. She knew what I needed, even if I didn't want to admit it. Turned up on my mother's doorstep one day and wouldn't leave until I promised to stay in touch with her, at the very least. Told me about the opening at Yokai, that the headmaster had asked for me, and the rest is history."

"History." Ikko chuckled. "I think they call that current events."

"Very recent history," Mizore corrected, joining his laugh for all of a moment, "So now you know. You know why I panicked when you showed up on my doorstep, another human stumbling into the world Tsukune barely survived. And to have Kotsubo latch onto you like that, so quickly. It was almost a perfect storm."

"Almost." Ikko agreed. "I didn't know if I wanted to stay, after that. But-"

"But?" She shifted. Ikko felt the familiar cold mist of her breath. He felt her eyes on him. He stared straight ahead, trying to keep his mind straight.

"E-even after that, you were there. So was Tayama, until – until she fed on me. And I- I wanted to repay that." He brushed his hair back, staring up at the ceiling. "Not that I could do much. I'm not strong, or smart. I've barely got enough sense to keep myself out of trouble, apparently. But I owed you."

"You don't owe me anything." Mizore breathed, and the chill of her breath stung against the warmth of his throat. He shivered.

"Maybe – but you were so sad, Mizore. I could see it. I'd seen it enough when I looked in the mirror. Then I saw what you looked like happy. Do you remember? In G.T.?"

"When you called me cool?" She laughed more properly. "Yeah, I remember."

"I wanted to see that again. If I could do that, then I could stay at Yokai." Ikko exhaled, the certainty of his resolve cutting through his nerves. "If I could make you laugh like that, then I could get through Yokai. Maybe even have some fun doing it."

Warm built in her cheeks. Her natural chill suddenly fought against a fire of blushing blood. She ducked behind her fringe and sat straight up, pulling her hair over her head in the guise of fixing it. Ikko jumped back, startled. "Mizore?"

"Nothing!" she squeaked, "It's nothing."

"Did I say something weird?"

"No, no! God, Ikko, no, you're fine. I just-" She coughed. "I need a drink. It's warm. Do you want something? I'll get you something."

She practically bounced off the end of the bed in her effort to get away, fleeing to the bathroom. Ikko looked to the bottle of soda they'd ordered with their pizza, abandoned to the floor, then stared at the bathroom door.

Mizore splashed her face with cold water, it's chill merciful on the blaze of her cheeks. She struggled to push the tangle of her hair back away from her face, staring into the mirror. Tired eyes stared back.

What was she thinking, getting so worked up over her student? Since when was Ikko allowed to spout lines about making her smile? He had never tried to be suave before, never even bothered sounding cool. The same Ikko that moped at the back of class and kept to himself with his games, telling her that he wanted to see more of her smile? It made no sense, yet she couldn't fault his sincerity.

She shook her head vigorously, her hair spinning out over her complexion again. Whatever he said or didn't say, he was still a student, and she a teacher. She had to hold fast to that line – or did she? Hadn't it been her idea to discard those concepts for this trip? Tonight, they were nothing more or less than Mizore and Ikko, friends sharing pizza. Right?

She caught her gaze slipping out of focus, dwelling on his words. Threatening to catch fire again, she slapped herself on either side of her face, willing herself back to the present. "What am I thinking?" she whispered, scowling at herself. Forget him and his words she instructed, corralling her scattered thoughts back into their usual composed, aloof collection. They would enjoy the pizza, chat a little more, then they'd push the beds apart and go to sleep.

Mizore caught her eye in the mirror. She nodded to herself. That was how it would be. How it should be. How it must be.

She turned back to the door, opening it. She met Ikko's gaze, and he brightened the moment they saw each other, smiling his nervous smile, hair only slightly less messy than hers. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded, feeling her neck creak with the stiffness of the gesture. "Yes. I'm okay."

His gaze cocked to the side, like a puppy hearing a noise it couldn't place. "You sure?"

"Y-yes." She wanted to disappear behind her fringe again. He could at least make it a little easy to stick to her plan of platonic pizza, cordial conversation, and separate beds. That childish indignance carried her over to her bed, on which she sat cross-legged. Wordlessly, Ikko pushed the pizza box towards Mizore, now regarding her warily. She took a slice, gathered her wits about it, and started to nibble.

A glass crashed into her peripheral vision. Mizore turned to see Ikko leaning across the bed, holding out a glass of soda. "You left the drink out here." He mumbled.

Drink? Why did she need a drink? "Thanks?"

"Y-you said you needed a drink."

"Oh. I did say that." She took it, swigging. The fizz stung her throat. "Thank you."

"You're, uh, welcome."

She nodded. Pizza, chat, bed. In that order. Mizore finished her slice and set her drink down on the bedside table. Step one complete. Now-

"Have you cooled down?"

"What?" Mizore's pale eyes widened, fixing afresh on Ikko. Her voice pitched so loud that he blinked his surprise.

"Y-you said you were warm! Mizore, are you sure you're okay? You're acting-"

"I'm not acting weird!"

"You are a little bit!" Ikko argued, "First you were all, all this," he made a crude impersonation of someone curling lovey-dovey into another's side, "Now you're all this," another impersonation of someone sullenly sulking over themselves, shoulders hunched and face contorted in parodic misery.

"I'm not all anything," she replied, simply. Why wouldn't he stop asking questions?

"It was something I said, wasn't it?" he added, "I'm being weird."

"You're not, I'm-" Mizore stopped herself before she admitted that she knew she was behaving strangely. "You kinda put me on the back foot, is all."

He didn't look convinced. She frowned, slumping back against the headboard. "I'm not used to this," she said, eventually, "Being close to someone. Spilling my guts. Ruby coaxes it out of me, but you – I got carried away. The last time – the last time I did something like that." Mizore winced. She remembered her last night as a student of Yokai. Bitter cold. Aching lungs. "It didn't go so well."

"What are you thinking I'll do?" Ikko returned, "Run screaming? I don't know if you've noticed, but we're both stuck in the human world until tomorrow. If I was gonna run, where would I go?"

"Run? Why would I think that?"

"Then what, Mizore?" he laughed, disbelief writ plain, "What's going on? You've told me what's hurting – you can at least tell me what's got you so worried."

Mizore buried her face in her hands. Damn him and his questions. "Ugh."

"Ugh?"

"Ugh." Mizore repeated, louder. "Fine. I got caught up worrying about this." She flapped a hand between them. "And the, y'know. The snuggling."

She saw him turn pink between her fingers. It played on his mind, too. "We're teacher and student," she continued, "We should be more like that. Right?"

A long, pregnant silence filled the finality of her question, the death knell of the warm, welcome mood in the room. She missed it almost immediately, though she knew rationally that it must be so.

"We're not." Ikko mumbled.

"Eh?"

"We're not," he replied, looking straight at her, gaze unwavering, "Not tonight. You said so. You wanted us to ditch all the Yokai stuff."

He spoke with the conviction of a man condemned to die, as if this were the last thing he might ever want. Had he enjoyed it so much? Mizore shook her head. "So?"

"So…" Ikko trailed off. Her shuffled back against the headboard, so he sat parallel to her, and looked across. "The 'snuggling' is okay. I-if you want it. If not, then, uh. That's fine too."

She hoped there was a pleading gleam in her eyes when she looked his way, begging him not to tempt her. It didn't take long to melt into a slightly mischievous smirk, as the memory of that warmth overrode her better judgement. "I should be the one giving permission." She replied – one last feeble defence."

"I can say something's okay if I want to," Ikko protested, meek, "It's up to you if you want to do something about it."

He caught her smirk and matched it with a dumb grin of his own. She sighed, surrendered, and settled once more at his side. His arm moved more readily this time, scooping her shoulder and holding her close. "You're warm," she breathed.

"Is that bad?"

She closed her eyes. "No."