After her time in Sakurasou and its many hotpot nights, the extravagant dinner at Mashiro's mansion was ten times more unbearable than it already was. It was the worst nightmare for any high functioning autistic: adults were talking loudly in English across the long, mahogany dining table, cameras were getting prepped for the event after dinner, and worst of all? Sorata hadn't returned any of Mashiro's calls when she landed in England. Her leg bounced up and down and she pressed dial yet again with her phone under the table.

"Pick up...pick up...pick up!," Mashiro commanded in her mind whilst twirling the three-hundred dollar pasta around her fork. "...what are you doing Sorata? I miss you."

She remained as 'kuudere' and motionless as ever, only stopping the act to eat, but in reality she wanted to slam her head against the table and cry. It was bad enough she was separated from her friends, now she had to endure five more hours of being around pretentious art snobs. Mashiro Shiina couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, sweetie?," her mom said as Mashiro got up. "Where are you going? We were just talking about you!"

"Toilet."

"Well come back soon. Everyone's about done with their dinner, and its about to begin soon."

"Okay."

The noise and laughter got quieter as she passed by maids and butlers on their way to clear the table, and she jogged towards the restroom. A string of creative British profanities echoed through her mind as she was reminded of how big her house was, but that was neither a concern here or now. She was beginning to get seriously worried. Sorata had promised that he would call her every hour but there it was when Mashiro opened her phone. At least fifty calls that went unanswered.

She adjusted her annoying bra and tight-fitting silky white dress and held the phone up to her ear.

"...stop it! No stop!," was the first thing she heard. "It's Mashiro!"

"Rita? Hello?"

"Mashiro~! I was just about to call you! I- OW! Why I oughta..."

"Rita? Is someone with you?"

"It's Ryuunosuke, he's being cheeky again. Yeah, I see you you NEET!"

Mashiro raised an eyebrow.

"Anyway, what's up?," Rita asked, a bit out of breath. "You wanna come over? I know how much you hate those stupid dinners."

"No. Did Sorata call you? Or Nanami? Or anyone back home? They're not picking up. I'm worried."

"...what? Come again?"

"Sorata. He's not picking up."

"Have you tried calling Sensei? Ah, you probably don't have her number, right?"

Mashiro nodded like her friends were beside her. She heard the phone exchange hands.

"Mashiro? You there?," Ryuunosuke asked.

"Yeah."

"Don't worry, I have practically everyone's number saved on my phone. I'll let you know what I-"

Right as he was about to finish, the taller blonde that was Mashiro's mom barged into the bathroom and led her out by the wrist. "Come on love!," she exclaimed, either oblivious or indifferent to the look on Mashiro's face. "It's your time to shine! Oh, how fun! It's been forever since you've painted in public, hasn't it?"

"No. Mom, I would like a few more minutes," she deadpanned, her eyes glued to her phone. It was a matter of life and death for her. And her eyes widened when her mom snatched the phone out of her hands and led Mashiro 'backstage'. Between them and the camera crew was a large canvas about the size of a door placed on its side. When she was younger, much much younger, Mashiro could easily vomit out a landscape onto it in less than an hour. It was an impressive feat that further cemented her reputation as the child prodigy and further funneled money into the Shiina family by way of publicity.

But that would have to wait. At least until Mashiro knew that...

"...that he's safe," she spoke out loud. Her mom leaned forward to look her eye to eye.

"Not right now love," she said. "Look at them all, they're positively drooling at what you might come up with! Oh, don't tell me don't tell me! Does it have something to do with Japan? Oh how wonderful!"

In a manner that would make the old Mashiro wince, she growled. "Mom. Give me back my phone."

"What...is wrong with you? Go out there and paint!," she hushed. There was a brief look of anger on her face, but she blinked and her usual faux smile appeared. "One hour. And once you're done, I'll treat you to all the phone time you want."

She bared her teeth. "No. I'm not going to paint for you." Mashiro flinched when her mom raised her arm to backhand her square on the cheek, before realizing that having a mark on her daughter's face in front of the cameras probably wouldn't be good for PR. She laughed.

"Well this is new...you've actually got a spine now. Why sweetie? Why won't you paint?"

"Because I hate it," she spat. "No, I hate painting...for others. Painting for money and fame, whatever it is you want. I want to paint and draw for my friends. Because I want them to be happy."

She blinked. "Friends? Rita? Oh, you must've made friends in Japan!"

"You don't care about me, do you mother?"

"Well...here's the deal. You..." She shoved the paintbrush in her daughter's chest. "...go out there and entertain those imbeciles, and...I won't cancel your travel VISA. Simple."

If there was a semblance of love or respect Mashiro had for her mom, it just fizzled out now. Rather, it burnt up like a piece of paper on fire. Her own mother, threatening the things she loves? Her pupils shrunk to the size of pinpricks and she couldn't breathe. This had to be a joke. Mashiro initially pleaded with her eyes, but there was no moving the monster in front of her. "I...I...I..."

"I-I-I-you what dear?," she mocked.

"I...can't believe you," Mashiro said. Having listened to all of that, Rita closed the phone and looked over at her boyfriend. She knew ever since she had met Mashiro, that her parents weren't exactly the loving type, but they always found a way to piss off Rita every single time. Ryuunosuke sputtered a few words out.

"Wha...did she just..."

The English girl nodded. "Yup. Blackmail."

"Her own daughter?," Ryuunosuke added.

"Mhm."

"And why don't you look like you wanna come with me and punch the ever-loving lights outta Mashiro's mom?!"

Rita sighed. "Trust me. I tried. Not the punching thing, but I gave her a piece of my mind when I found her verbally abusing Mashiro on more than one occasion," she explained. "But it's really no use. She's her manager. And she's built up a pretty strong public image of the 'grateful, beautiful woman who had to work to obtain her wealth'."

"We can't just sit here!"

"The only thing we can do...? Is to try and keep Mashiro away from her mom as much as possible until we get to go back home."

Ryuunosuke paced back and forth in the middle of Rita's room. "There is no way. She'll want more and more art from her as possible. She didn't bring Mashiro back from Japan for a vacation- she brought her back because she was running out of cash!"

"Good idea. Maybe we can make some art to take a little bit of weight off her shoulders."

"This...this is..."

"...wrong. I know. I'd go anywhere with you darling. But it'd be better if we were all back at Sakurasou. You, me, Mashiro. I'm afraid we're just gonna have to stick it out for a while."

"...there's gotta be a way."

It was around eleven when the family wrapped it up for night- when the last handshake was exchanged, the last present was gifted and the last guest had left the Shiina mansion. They could finally be their real selves, much to their relief. Mashiro's parents didn't care one bit that some poor maid would have to pick up perfume or cologne drenched clothes that were tossed carelessly on the marble ground, instead choosing to care about which politician said the same things better.

Mashiro was already in her room so that she wouldn't be the victim of their drunkenness. Intense thoughts and feelings began to consume her the longer she remained face down on the Queen-sized bed and she was impressed at how quickly she could change from one emotion to another. She was lonely, horny, angry and sad all at the same time. And she didn't have it in her to convert them into art like she usually did, fearing that it would only encourage her mother to keep her couped up in the mansion forever.

"Mashiro. You have a deadline. Start drawing," she commanded internally. But she was like a stubborn cat that wouldn't budge. Any attempts to move muscles besides the ones in her face were met with instant fatigue- her body just wanted things to be as simple and dead as they used to be. When it would just paint idly, obey her parents mindlessly and go to sleep, all while acting like she was on depressants.

But her mind was buzzing with emotions ever since she had a taste for life. An actual life, one of a normal seventeen year old. What was it she read: if she didn't know the taste of honey, she wouldn't try and steal it? She sat up but only for a second. Because the moment she did, she burst into tears and fell back down on her side, clutching her pillow like her life depended on it. She didn't bother hiding her whimper and hiccups. With how far her bed was from the door, no one would be able to hear. No one ever heard her. Not when she was speaking, why would they when she was crying?

"I...*hic!...want to leave...," she thought. "I hate this place. I hate my room, I hate my parents, I hate painting. Stupid painting! I WANT TO LEAVE!"

She kicked her wall with each word screamed in her mind. "I! WANT! TO BE! WITH! SORATA! ITS NOT FAIR! THEY GET TO SPEND THEIR SUMMER TOGETHER WHILE I'M HERE ROTTING AWAY?!" If anything, she could tolerate the parental abuse and the needlessly large living space. But it was the loneliness that got to her and she wasn't even a week in. Was it loneliness or boredom? Probably both.

She heard a knock at the door but was given no time to react. Her mom was already towering over her bed as Mashiro laid there sobbing in a puddle of her own tears.

The taller blonde, now dressed in her overpriced pajamas, sat down on the edge of Mashiro's bed and stroked her hair. "Oh...love...what's wrong?," she asked. But Mashiro didn't say anything. Hell, she couldn't even look her in the eyes based on what had happened.

"Look. I'm sorry for what I said back there. You know I would never get between you and your friends, right?"

"...go away."

"But I had to get you moving dear. There were news reporters there- news reporters! They've come to see you! After all this time! You couldn't have flaked out on them, could you?"

"I said...SOD! OFF!," Mashiro yelled. "WHY DO YOU KEEP IGNORING ME?!"

"Now now," she replied. Her eye twitched. "Don't raise your voice at me. I'm trying to say that I'm sorry, okay? Let's have some fun this summer. Whaddya' say we go somewhere to get the creative juices flowing huh? We can go to some nice restaurants...go shopping...go to the beach...oh! Why don't we go to the aquarium? You loved seeing the stingrays when you were little."

Mashiro saw right through the manipulative woman and she wished she could go back in time and slap her past self in the face. Had she always been this gullible? Was a trip to the aquarium all it took to do whatever her mom wanted her to do? Now, and only now did Mashiro realize that her mother was bargaining for another one of Mashiro's paintings- maybe even a masterpiece. Like it was some rare item to be obtained in a video game by following a set script, and not by loving her own daughter and having it come naturally.

She had to leave. She had to, otherwise she knew she was going to let out her emotions as a punch to the face.

"I'm leaving," she growled as she got up and walked towards the door. But her mom didn't take it too well.

"Where do you think you're going?!," she spat.

"Rita."

"You know the rules! No leaving after eight! And how dare you leave when I'm apologizing!"

Mashiro scoffed. "Apologizing? That's what you were doing?" The other Shiina was blinded by the fury radiating off of Mashiro and she took two steps back. "No, you're not sorry! You don't feel sorry, do you?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me young lady!," she yelled back.

"You're just saying that so that I paint for you! Aren't you?! That's all you care about! Money money money!"

"You. Shut your fucking mouth this instant. Or I really will make sure you never go back to Japan ever again."

"...and you're not even listening to me. Because you know that I'm right~! You never loved me! You always loved money! You sellout! You...you money whore!"

KRACK!

Mashiro's head snapped to the side and her body crumpled to the floor. Her own mom had just slapped her in the cheek with pure, unadulterated malice. And the look on her face, her lowered eyebrows and her canines showing as a snarl, hurt Mashiro more than the pain that was just beginning to register on her skin. And a few seconds later- the first tear fell from her face that was pointed to the carpet. And then the second, and then the third, until eventually she was crying worse than when she was alone. A lock of Mashiro's long, princess-like hair touched the pair of feet in front of her and in response, was kicked away in disgust.

And after what could be best described as her savoring the sound of Mashiro's crying, did Mashiro's mom stomp out of the room and slam the doors on the way out.

The two lovebirds were four hours into their movie marathon but there was no way they were able to enjoy the rest of the night. Not after they had gotten the call from Mashiro- it was then when Rita's heart melted for the long haired NEET even more, as his concern for not only Mashiro, but the rest of his friends was painfully visible on his usually nonchalant face. He was deep into his laptop with Rita watching from behind just as intently. Sorata usually updated his blog every two seconds, usually filled with technical mumbo-jumbo regarding assets, code and the sorts...but sometimes he would include some personal things in there too.

There was none of that. The last update occurred in line with when Mashiro said that he didn't pick up, so he couldn't have been working. Or Aoyama. He pressed 'call' on Sensei's name in the list one last time and for the first time, was actually glad to hear his teacher's digital voice.

"Sensei?!," Ryuunosuke exclaimed. At least now the possibility of them being unconscious in a car crash was ruled out. "Where are you?! Where is everyone?!"

"Loud...shut up. They're fine, they're out in the mountains," she replied.

"Mountains?!," Ryuunosuke repeated. "Why? Why didn't they tell us? Why didn't you tell us?! You didn't think we were-"

"Shut up. I was asleep. It's almost four in the morning in Japan, and I...I drank too much last night. I didn't know where they were so..."

Yes, Sensei didn't sound the usual aloof and laidback. If anything, she sounded like she did the day after Aoyama's acting gig celebration, when they all got wasted. She wasn't even hungover, she just took a two hour break from drinking, only to get up and into the car to get her kids back. "It was dumb I know. I just...anyway. I woke up to both you and Sorata calling."

"Where are they?!," Ryuunosuke demanded to know.

"...is Rita with you?"

"I'm here Sensei."

"And Mashiro, where is she? She's not picking up."

The two turned around and looked at the blonde girl sitting on Rita's bed. Not one minute ago did the two come downstairs to open the door for her- the left side of her cheek red and her eyes downcast permanently. She managed to sneak out of her prison-like mansion and sprint towards Rita's home in nothing but her nightgown. And Rita could assume that Mashiro's pink flip phone was still with her mom.

"...she's with me," Rita said in a quiet-voice.

"Can you put her on the line please?"

Rita and Ryuunosuke shared a worried look together. They had to try. All Mashiro had to do was listen to the sound of Sensei's voice, assuring her that everything was okay back home. Rita clutched the phone to her chest and sat next to Mashiro, her legs closed together and off to the side.

"Mashiro?," Rita whispered. But her head remained pointed downwards. When Rita parted a length of Mashiro's hair behind her ear, she saw that Mashiro wore the most pained expression a human being could ever make. Her eyes and teeth were clamped shut like her soul was touching an electric fence, but she remained motionless and hunched over. Almost so that her forehead was touching the tear-stained duvet. "It's Sensei. She wants to talk to you, okay?"

Rita held the phone to Mashiro's ear but at the slightest touch, she flinched and turned away. She croaked out a quiet "stop" and "leave me alone" and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I don't think she wants to talk right now," Rita sighed to both Sensei and Ryuunosuke as she walked back to the table. "She's been having some family issues. Along with this."

"Family issues?"

"Her mom hit her," Ryuunosuke snarled.

"What?!," Sensei snapped. She went from hungover to furious in a matter of milliseconds. "What happened?!"

"From what we heard...she refused to do some art exhibition thing for her mom, so she threatened to cancel her travel Visa," Rita explained. "And afterwards, she got into an argument about it and..."

Sensei muttered something about 'killing anyone who dares touch Mashiro', remembering the time when Sorata and Aoyama shoved the poor girl into the counter during their arguments. "Can you promise me something, you two? Keep an eye on Mashiro. Keep her away from that piece of shit, and make sure she doesn't get hurt again. Do you understand?"

"We understand. And we promise that she'll be okay."

"Jesus Christ. First Hase and now Mashiro-"

"Hase?," Rita asked worriedly. "What happened to Hase?"

And after a long pause, she finally began to talk. "Look...kids...I didn't want to tell you over the phone. And I didn't think that it'd be...healthy for you to know but..."

"...but...?"

"Hase tried to kill herself. Sorata, Aoyama and Himemiya left in a hurry to find her. I guess that's why they didn't pick up- she went somewhere out in the middle of nowhere to do it."

"Is Hase..."

"She's okay. They called me this morning with the emergency phone lines and I'm coming to pick them up. Along with the police and ambulance. Christ, I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind...giving me a scare like that..."

"Hase tried to kill herself?," Rita gasped. Mashiro lifted her head ever so slightly. "...w-why...? Why would she do something like that?"

"In any case, the ambulance will come, pick Hase up and keep her in the ICU for a couple of days until she checks out. I'll let you know when she gets back home so that you two can call her, okay?"

"O-Okay."

The two heard Sensei sigh like she had been hyperventilating this whole time and was trying to calm herself down. Now that they thought about it, Sensei was definitely having the roughest time out of all of them. Out of nowhere, when she came home from work expecting a nice Sakurasou hotpot sans Rita, Ryuunosuke and Mashiro, comes deafening silence. No one would even pick up, and when she would call the police, they would do nothing but file a missing persons report for her and send out some emergency texts.

"I'm sorry," Sensei let out. "I don't think you'll be able to enjoy your summer anymore."

"Honestly Sensei, being in England with Ryuun-kun is great and all, but it's just not the same when there's no one to watch us make out," Rita replied. Sensei let out a weak chuckle. "We miss you guys."

"Well...since there's no me to boss you around in person, I'm telling you to take care of yourselves, got it?," Sensei commanded tiredly. "And again, take care of Mashiro. If there is one hair missing from that baby bird's head, I'm-"

"-gonna rip us a new one. We'll watch over her. Promise."

"Okay. Good. I'm in the sticks now, gonna lose signal soon. I'll let those kids know everything. You should get a call in about two hours or so."

"Thanks Sensei. Take care."

"Bye now."

From Mashiro's point of view, the rest of the night went by in a flash. One second she was eating dinner, the next she was lying in bed with Rita. And Ryuunosuke, but he was on the opposite side of Rita so that she wouldn't get jealous. She blinked twice. Had she remembered to brush her teeth in all this chaos? She made small movements as to not wake up the sleeping girl next to her.

It was late, she guessed around two in the morning. And she had kept her eyes open and crying this whole time, so her eyes had adapted to see every inch of the pitch black Rita Room with what little moonlight made it way through the blinds. The table, computer, art supplies, canvases, all but lost its color and was replaced with a cold navy blue.

Mashiro hovered her hand over her mouth and breathed. She was surprised- somehow Rita managed to brush Mashiro's teeth, comb her hair, put on her pajamas and get her to sleep, all the while she was staring off into space.

The crying had stopped, but only because she closed her eyes and imagined it was Sorata behind her. Brushing her hair free of any knots that might've formed during Mashiro's carefree day. Hearing his voice ask her about her day and feeling his warm breath on her neck. It was nothing short of heaven for the girl. She could never have imagined how difficult life was without him by her side.

"Had life always been this hard?," she thought. Her forearm had now moved to rest on top of her forehead while she stared up at the ceiling of Rita's room. She could've been floating in the middle of the Atlantic ocean for all it was worth- she had stayed so still and numb that the mattress underneath her felt like it was part of her body. She was neither too hot nor too cold. The closest sensation she could've compared it to would be floating in a sensory deprivation tank, where she remembered floating weightlessly in salt water, looking up at nothing. Thinking about nothing.

Tears streamed down the sides of her head yet again. She couldn't explain how horrible it felt having a family member hurt her like that. There was no love anymore, not with the way her mom looked at her like she was something that she'd find on the bottom of her heel. And it didn't happen overnight too, far from it. There was a time when the two Shiina mother and daughter had a functional relationship.

"I remember...stingrays," Mashiro cried. The only thing she remembered was the feeling she shared when she was five years old, riding the shoulders of a much kinder woman. They were both amazed at the large creatures floating like aliens in space with dim blue lights glowing from the ground. And Mashiro would keep that sense of awe with her for another week, when it was used as the subject matter for the 24-paint color kit she received on her birthday.

When her eyes did wander, it would linger at a collection of paint-stained cardboard boxes in the corner of the room.

She got up, sat beside it and rummaged through it, occasionally giving a weak smile when she put the palm-sized paint tins to her nose and smelt their different 'personalities'. The yellow tin was almost empty. It seemed like Rita used that particular shade just as much as Mashiro did.

"I did this to myself," Mashiro realized. "This was my fault. Ever since I was little, it was art this and art that...I never showed any love to my mother."

"No. That's not fair I..."

"You what, Mashiro? All you did was paint. You'd paint at school. You'd paint at the dinner table. You'd fall asleep painting. Every night. No one could stop you."

Mashiro couldn't find the word, but the pain in her chest she was feeling was akin to regret.

"Mom is the way she is...because of you. She wants you to succeed. She wants you to keep painting forever and ever. Because its what made you happy."

"No it wasn't!," she replied to herself. "It was a distraction! I hated not being able to understand others, so I locked myself away and painted!"

"So you locked yourself away, and painted. You are a terrible human being, aren't you?"

"It's too late now. You've had a taste for life, but there's no fixing...this. You can't go back and tell mom you love her. You can't sit with everyone else at lunch. You can't ever, ever, ever get close to anyone. Because the moment you do, you just end up hurting yourself. Mashiro."

Vincent Van Gogh would understand the pain Mashiro was in. If it hadn't been for the two people sleeping not ten feet away, maybe she would've been rummaging through the wine cabinet, throwing paint tins at the wall and calling herself Pollock. But instead, she chose to pour her heart out onto the one of many spare canvas's stored in Rita's messy art room.

She didn't care too much. She picked up a paintbrush, not too big, not too small, and made strokes on the fabric, not knowing what the outcome of this would be. If one were to dive into her mind, they wouldn't see pictures or people, because they'd be too busy trying to quench the ripping sadness in their chest.

"Hase...Hase...Hase...," Mashiro repeated out loud as she painted. "I'm sorry I'm not there to hug you. I want to be back there."

She painted through the tears blurring up her vision. She didn't need to see- she knew where the colors were on palette. She knew from years of practice that if she mixed this color with that, it would produce something that would perfectly represent what she was feeling.

The voices- the ones that hurt her the most, overlapped one another.

"Why are you crying? Nothing has changed."

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I feel sad."

"You feel sad or you are sad?"

"I was always sad. Ever since I was born I was sad."

"I miss Sorata."

"No! Anyone but Shiina- she's weird!"

"Breaking news, a prestigious high school art student almost murdered by a former classmate while she was asleep-"

"KANDA-KUN! Stay with me! J-Just keep pressure on it kay'? Mashiro!"

"Because I was told to?"

"Or I really will make sure you never go back to Japan ever again."

It was a...frightening? Shocking? No, worried- would be the right term. A worried awakening from Rita Ainsworth indeed. Although it was just for a second, when her half-asleep body and her half-asleep arm touched the other side of the bed expecting human but got nothing but blanket. Ryuunosuke's cuddling night would be cut abrupt, unfortunately. Rita sprung up, awaking him too. But one quick look at the corner of her room, bathed in morning sunlight shining through the windows, and she was both relieved and captivated.

Ryuunosuke had the breath knocked out of him too, when he saw the canvas that Mashiro had slept on. Vertically. She was sat on a stool, upright with her cheek resting on the most depressing, painful and hauntingly beautiful piece of art that they had ever seen. It was scary how entranced they both were. Their jaws remained open all the way until they got up close- oh, and woke up Mashiro in the process.

"...the world...?," Mashiro stuttered awake, the drool that had been collecting in her mouth spilling onto her pajamas. It seemed like she was having quite the fever dream.

"Mashiro...," Rita began, her eyes darting from detail to detail. "This...this is..."

"...amazing...," Ryuunosuke completed.

"It's not done yet. Stop looking," Mashiro said blandly. She immediately picked up where she left off, but her depressive train of thought was cut short, and she didn't have it in her to add more to it. Because the painting was made out of sheer emotion, and right now there were only two things Mashiro was feeling: sleepiness and hunger. The painting was about ten percent complete, but with how big the canvas was, it was the most complete ten percent Rita had ever seen.

"When did...y-you stayed up?"

Mashiro nodded.

"But how did you see?," Rita pressed. "I don't see any lamps or anything?"

"Rita," Mashiro said as blandly as ever. "Rita?"

They were still gawking at the painting when Mashiro came back after going to the toilet. It sort of reset her eyes and she found herself standing next to Rita as well, although preferring to look at the painting with the reflection of her friend's eye. The painting wasn't really art for Mashiro, more so one very loud scream of emotion that she didn't want to start the day off with again.

"Rita?," Mashiro said after a minute.

Rita turned to look at her and placed her hands on her shoulders. Ironically enough, maybe Mashiro's mother had indeed forced a masterpiece out of her, in the worst way possible. "Mashiro," she said in a serious tone. "You cannot, you CANNOT. Show this to your mom."

"I don't want to. I want to go back home."

"You do? Good." She looked at the canvas, then back at Mashiro and smiled. "Let me tell you how we're gonna get back home."

AN: Hey all, thanks for reading this far! So far, Mashiro's trying to get back home to hug Hase and Sorata and everyone like a happy puppy, but can't due to her abusive mom holding her hostage. Rita and Ryuunosuke agree to go back home too and plan to get Mashiro out of this situation.

Sorry for the hiatus, I was dealing with my own little 'family issues' as well and I've been pretty unmotivated to get back up and writing again. I know there's not too many people reading this but really its just my little coping mechanism I've been trying to develop rather than getting drunk every night. So far, I like having ideas flowing through my brain again. I'm thinking of a Sakurasou x Fallout crossover for some reason. Actually, now that I think about it, there's a lot of (series) x Fallout fics that sound like they'd be a good read.