The sea is nothing but a library

of all the tears in history.

– Lemony Snicket

With the Wind

A velvet voice pierced my dreams, banishing sleep before dawn.

Amazing.

Minamino's praise from the night before simmered along with bubbling coffee, warm as the lamp lighting my room, the sweat clinging throughout the workout.

I want you.

Minuscule details resurfaced in the shower, rising from the steam, coating my skin. Again I saw the red hair, that easy smile, lips creased at the challenge–

A victory I still wasn't sure I'd won.

Please.

Courteous and polite; a fashion disaster without a sense of humor. An office boy with good social manners and a medical condition.

A man whose luck might be worse than mine.

I am yours to command.

A sigh echoed and I pressed my forehead against the wall, trying and failing to push him away. But I could still see his unexpected grace, the wasted chest sprinkled with scars, hands callused despite a cushy job.

None of it added up.

Yesterday was supposed to end things, a chance for him to tie whatever loose ends he believed were there, something to give him peace of mind. Instead, this stranger somehow convinced me to give him dance lessons. I'd never considered teaching anyone: dance was nothing more than a tool for luring men, men who wouldn't ask my name or why.

Men with the same goal as I.

There weren't supposed to be lasting partners, much less students, yet this man somehow talked me into both.

And honestly? Part of me – a small part – looked forward to it.

Stepping from the shower, I found myself falling into the basest of sets, steps I hadn't thought of in years yet knew by heart. Water dripped down my back, flew from flayed fingers as I stalked an invisible partner, one with holly eyes and a timid smile. Faster, faster. One, two, three; one, two three–

Slick tile gave way and I slipped, just managing to catch myself on the sink and, once again, I found myself thankful for living alone. The towel felt rough against my skin though I pressed harder than necessary, refusing to let anything close to excitement form. There had to be a hidden agenda, some end-game goal:

Men like Minamino didn't do things on a whim.

Everyone with my number knew I treasured mornings, so when the phone rang I frowned, abandoning the towel and padding to the kitchen. A factory ringtone bounced off the walls, fake blues overriding Sinatra's crooning.

I didn't bother checking the ID or my tone. "Odawara."

A pause and a familiar chuckle. "Good morning to you too."

"Tatsuo." I leaned against the wall, cool wood tracing my spine. "We're working together today, right? What couldn't wait an hour?"

Tatsuo knew how much I valued my quiet time: he was the one who introduced me to the concept. For him to invade that space–

"You may want to get her early, princess."

I let the nickname slide; Tatsuo also knew I hated it. My mentor only pulled that out in good humor or when something was wrong and he wasn't laughing. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing – yet."

"You're being cryptic, Tats. You know I hate that."

Commotion in the background, voices I couldn't make out back-dropped by the sea. "You know that policy the higher-ups have been pushing?"

He knew the answer – it was all anyone had talked about for over a month. Balancing the scales between a political fiasco and a media circus, angry faces arguing on both sides; Motaru's concern, the fear most didn't openly show:

The possibility of working with a demon.

"What about it?"

Crashing waves punctuated the silence, amplifying his next words. "It's finally happened."

The air left my lungs in a rush and all traces of Minamino fled. Memories rose unbidden, nightmares of water and falling and blood. Drowning, tumbling in blue. Screams filling the deaf night, both hers and mine. A pale body – an ethereal body – rising over my mother, her arm disappearing into that mouth. Golden eyes, warmth between my legs as I wet myself. A smiling mouth, a red mouth–

A man's mouth.

"-zumi! Azumi!"

I gasped, chest burning. At some point, I fell, phone slipping to rest by my foot. Slick thighs and the smell of urine betrayed my bladder, angry, seeping lines marring my shoulder, chest and stomach. I cursed, pressing a hand to the worst scratches at my navel and grabbing the device. Focus on now, on Tatsuo:

That thing and Tatsuo couldn't exist in the same world. "Yeah?"

He remained silent so I listened to the waves, to peaceful blue. Tatsuo's blue was kind: it never lied, waiting patiently to catch me with open arms. I couldn't drown in that blue; fear didn't exist there. His blue couldn't hurt–

He wouldn't allow it.

"Maybe you should stay home today. You have call-time, right?"

"No, I'm coming." My voice remained steady even as my legs shook, body miraculously rising. "Tell me about the site. What does it look like?"

So I listened while he painted a picture with words, not bothering to question the request. Tatsuo had seen these episodes too many times, knew exactly how to ground me in the present. He told me about the location, a loading dock rented for the day from a maritime company. While most would focus on cranes with rusted teeth and metal arms, Tatsuo described the waves, the birds, how the breeze embraced him like an old friend. The salt in the air, mingled with seaweed and old oil; the remnants of a beach, thin strip of gray sand the only reminder of its former glory. I drank all of it in, tasting the sea, gull calls tickling both ears, sun warming my face, despite its attempt to hide behind the clouds. If nothing else, Tatsuo was a master storyteller:

It's what got him interested in this business. "Better?"

A deep breath and I nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Yeah." I didn't thank him, knowing he wouldn't accept gratitude over such a thing – we were long past that. "When do you need me?"

Waves breaking, a voice rising and falling nearby, a voice I recognized. "As soon as possible. Motaru's about to lose it."

He hung up and I grimaced, glaring down at the red lines, the puddle on the floor. The mess took little time to clean up and before long I was in the shower again, nearly done when the clock chimed eight.

I've always loved the sea.

Soothing waves, shells blanketing soft sand, offerings left by mermaids and nymphs. Salted breezes, childish laughter, cries from feathered throats, all back-dropped by blue.

I loved this blue before Tatsuo taught me about his.

He couldn't understand why the sea didn't scare me, not when most days a bath was out of the question. I couldn't explain it, not really. How to put into words the feel of froth between my toes, water tickling ankles and calves, the friendly pull of the waves? The sea could be unforgiving but this blue had always been kind to me.

The fact that I'd never swam in it probably helped.

Navigating through traffic with the windows down despite autumn's chill, breathing the air only found here, lulled by blue and the purr of the engine. Here, the hiccup from earlier didn't matter – a bad dream, nothing more. Monsters couldn't exist in this blue, at least not ones that weren't natural.

Especially not those hidden in human flesh.

The old docks came first, decrepit wooden structures still used by local fishermen. Pastel boats dotted the water, a few going out, most pulling in their haul after a night spent at sea. These eventually gave way to modern marinas and, finally, signs bearing the maritime company's name and logo. Studio ID already hanging on the rear-view mirror, I shifted gears while rounding the last curve, prepared to stop for the guard–

Until I saw the crowd at the front gate.

They stood on either side of the road, people of all shapes and sizes, each bearing homemade signs. Catchy slogans such as 'Right to life' and 'They were here first!' spanned the right while 'Monster lover', 'GO HOME!' and several others I didn't care to remember raged from the left. Both sides were chanting and screaming in waves, neither taking the time to hear the other, signs waving in the wind, shaking their fists:

The officers in the road between them explained why the protest hadn't grown violent.

A uniformed face frowned as I crept forward but waved me on as another called out, a guard from the studio. He smiled while examining my ID, a man I recognized but couldn't remember his name. A moment more and he opened the gate, allowing me through even as the crowd complained and attempted to surge forward.

I'd never been so thankful for security protocols.

"About time you showed up."

Tatsuo wasted no time on pleasantries, leaning against the passenger door as the engine died. Decked from head-to-toe in baggy gray, he almost blended into the backdrop of ominous clouds, salted hair twisted in a knot atop his head. Cigarette in-hand, the image of calm–

Unlike the rest of our coworkers.

Almost everyone was nestled in groups of three or four, even the media crew and makeup artists. Soft chatter floated on the breeze, words tinged with anxiety – far removed from the festive atmosphere normally surrounding our work. I found Motaru's bulk easily, as well as a handful of other acquaintances. Only today smiles were absent, equipment set and left to rot.

"Sorry, had to feed Toki. You know how he is when I skip breakfast." I tried and failed to nab the cigarette from him, careful to sound nonchalant. "Is the new guy here yet?"

A deep drag and Tatsuo exhaled, smoke pouring from both lips and nostrils. "Oh yeah, he's here."

I saw him when a knot of whispering women moved, determined to escape the breeze. He stood a few inches taller than me, about six feet, if I had to guess. Fiery bangs peeked from the hood of his wind breaker, strings pulled tight, shielding most of his face. Black sandals nearly the same shade as his track suit encased his feet, the kind only found in old ninja flicks. A slim build, angled features that made him seem like a fairy out of a children's book. He could easily fit into the crowd with his looks alone.

That should have been the case, anyway.

Instead, he stood apart from the others, watching on but not daring to join. Not that I blamed him, not with the less-than-friendly stares and snatches of conversation hovering around the set: talks of transfers and early retirements, not wanting to be touched by those hands; terror at becoming a meal and intentional 'accidents'; and monster–

Monster above all else.

"This is ridiculous." Tatsuo paid no heed to my hiss, content with watching the scene. "How long has this been going on?"

"About an hour." A measured drag and smoke rings burst from his mouth, a game he played when thinking. "You should have heard them when he got here – guy knows how to make an entrance."

My jaw clenched as more insults filtered in, each worse than the last. Stupid, fearful talk growing bolder by the second; they didn't even know his name.

Only monster, plain and simple.

"Where's Ayumu?"

"On the way, got caught in traffic." He flicked away ashes, grinding the butt on the bottom of his shoe. "There was an accident between here and Shibata so he's running late–"

But I was already moving away from the car, keys slipping into my pocket.

"Hey, where are you going?"

Tatsuo made to follow but thought better of it, his sigh lost to crashing waves. A few of the others watched my approach but none moved to stop me, knew better than to try. I ignored Motaru's attempts at getting my attention, too focused on blue and reasoning with an outdated fear. The bloodstained mouth didn't belong, nor did the roaring waters and sense of falling. Here; I was here:

The new guy didn't look up once.

"Hey."

He started, raising his gaze from curled toes. Brow drawn and lips pressed tight, he resembled a kicked puppy rather than a terrifying beast; lost, floundering–

A puppy with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen.

"You're the new guy, right?" I couldn't bring myself to calling him a demon. He didn't look monstrous or intimidating; in fact, he appeared completely human. "Why are you standing here all by yourself?"

"Oh!" He blinked, glancing first one way then the other before pointing at his chin. "Are ye talking to me?"

For a moment, I shared his shock, caught off guard by the strange accent and how each word filled his mouth to bursting. "Of course. Who else would I be talking to?"

The hint of a smile, corners of his eyes crinkling. "Forgive me lass, no one has up til now, you see."

Lass. The word brought to mind rolling hills and lush valleys I'd only seen in movies, a land far removed from here. "I'm not a lass. My name is Odawara, Azumi Odawara." I extended my arm, professionalism taking over. "What's your name?"

He stared at the hand before pulling his own from a jacket pocket, grip firm, warm, as if we'd known each other for years. "Sorry, never have been good with manners an' all that." A grin spread across his face, a single fang peeking from his mouth. "Jin, pleasure to meet ya."

Maybe it was his accent but the fang didn't bother me. Rather, the impish look made me smile in turn and I let him hold my hand. "Just Jin?"

"Yeah, never got around to learning my family name an' all that. Didn't seem important at the time." Jin let go, retreating a step to cradle his head with his hands. "Names don't matter back home, anyway. Not like they do here."

Motaru was still at it, volleying between staring at the horizon and playing a desperate game of charades whenever he thought our new coworker wasn't looking.

"Does yer fella always act the maggot?" Jin cocked his head at the display, several strands escaping his hood. "He's been gawking for a while now."

"Don't worry, he'll get used to you, everyone will." I didn't question the expression, turning my attention back to Jin. "And he's not my 'fella'; Motaru is a coworker."

"If ye say so."

The breeze picked up again, playing with our hair, making his jacket sing. "How do you like it here so far?"

"Fine, just fine. Human world is beautiful, always wanted to stay here and finally have the chance." He closed his eyes, inhaling a salty gust. "Kurama was bang on about this place."

"Kurama?" His hood continued to move even after the breeze died down, shifting subtly on either side of his head.

"A mate of mine; good guy but a bit up-tight if you know what I mean."

"I know the type." I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying, not with the party going on behind his hood. "Um, Jin?" He stopped mid-hum, raising a brow. "I think there's something in your jacket."

He watched as I motioned to the afflicted areas before laughing, a deep, hearty sound. "Oh don't worry, that's just my ears."

All rational thought stopped. "Your ears?"

"Want to take a gander?" Before I could say a word he whipped back the hood, unveiling a mass of red and other choice articles. Elongated ears reached skyward, bouncing at the collected gasps of our colleagues, the beating of my heart. A stubby horn sprouted at the crest of his forehead, nearly shrouded by unruly tufts. On anyone else, these would have freaked me out, sent me running or, worse, brought on another attack. But for some reason, I wasn't afraid. Maybe it was because of that laugh, his goofy grin–

Or maybe just because it was Jin.

"See how they're all pointing up and wiggling?" He touched one lobe for emphasis, as though his ears had a mind of their own. "Get that way when I'm happy or excited and I've got you to thank for it, Odawara."

I blinked, trying to trace his logic and heavily-accented Japanese. "How so?"

"You talked to me when everyone else said feck off, respect that." Jin crouched, bouncing on his heels. "Was almost ready to leg it before you showed up."

"Wait." A thought crept in, one that turned my stomach. "You heard what they said?"

"Hard not to." His ears wiggled as he rose, patting off his bottom. "Don't pay 'em no mind, though. They don't know any better."

Anger bubbled on his behalf – for a demon I hardly knew – but I held it in, changing the subject. "I'm surprised you're here this early. Wasn't the director bringing you?"

"Yeah but biggie got stuck on the road. Told me to go on, so I did."

I glanced back at the other cars, though didn't see any new ones. "How did you get here if you didn't drive?" Even for someone who wasn't human, Shibata was quite a trek to make on foot.

Another gust, lips curling to flash a fang. "I came with the wind."

Tatsuo chose that moment to join us, apologizing for delayed introductions and extending his hand. If the interruption bothered Jin, he hid it well, easily falling into conversation with my teacher about the beauty of the morning and the sea. Tatsuo didn't appear bothered by Jin's superior height or girth but then again, he was like that with everyone:

There weren't many people smaller than Tats.

"You made quite an entrance!" He laughed, elbowing me in the ribs. "I hate she missed it!"

"Oh, she'll see it soon enough, don't worry." Jin rubbed his neck, a slow smile creasing his lips. "It's the only way I know, you see."

Before I could question what 'it' was, Ayumu's car sped through the gate, horn blaring. A collective sigh and everyone migrated toward the center of the loading dock as he parked, just close enough to us to be polite while still giving Jin a wide birth.

Ayumu's door flew open before he killed the heaving Honda's motor, revealing the baby-faced man who looked more like a college student than a film director. Hanshin Tigers cap in-hand, he shook out windblown hair, uncaring of his wrinkled T-shirt and holey jeans. Rubbing at his eyes and five o'clock shadow, Ayumu donned his cap before taking in the lot of us, finding his target in no time.

"Jin, get over here!"

Such was Ayumu's way: no apologies or wasted pleasantries, just get the job done and go home. Maybe that's why he'd been so successful in the business.

He'd definitely earned the nickname 'Bull of the East'.

"Listen up, everyone! We're behind schedule already so I'm only going to say this once." Ayumu motioned to the demon at his side, who was doing his best to appear serious and non-threatening at the same time. "This is Jin – he'll be working with us starting today. He's new to the industry so show him the ropes, yeah?"

A few half-hearted responses – the best he could hope for – and Ayumu was off, delegating tasks left and right.

"Azumi!"

I stilled at Motaru's soft hiss, noting he'd drawn closer, no doubt emboldened by the director. Jin noticed as well and winked at me, ears wiggling still as he followed Ayumu's meandering path across the dock.

The two were barely out of hearing range before Motaru pounced, hurrying to my side. "Are you crazy?! What if he hurt you? What if–"

"Unless the next words out of your mouth are work-related, I don't want to hear it." I sighed, the scratches at my stomach throbbing. "We all knew this was coming."

"Yeah but what about you? Are you okay?"

I held my tongue, staring at the sea. Motaru knew about the attack years ago – not as much as Tatsuo but enough. Just enough. He understood my fear of heights, why I couldn't watch gory films. He knew the importance of blue and, though he'd never seen one, he knew about the attacks blue couldn't stop.

For a moment, I wondered if Tats told him about earlier this morning.

"I just don't want you to get hurt by that monster–"

"Jin." A deep breath and I turned, meeting his gaze. "His name is Jin."

I couldn't tell whether he wilted from the correction or my glare. Regardless, Motaru retreated a step, face clouding. "Why are you defending him?"

"Because he seems like a nice guy. He didn't ask to be a demon any more than you asked to be human. Last time I checked, we don't get a say in how we're born."

He stilled, eyes wide. Motaru had a good heart; after all, he was far more concerned with my well-being than his own fear. Yet he hadn't seen the hurt in Jin's eyes, the relief in his smile when we talked–

No one took the time to.

"Odawara! Aoyama!" Ayumu waved his fist, cheeks red already with shouting. "What are you standing around for? Get over here!"

I barely listened to the director's rundown; we'd filmed countless scenes just like this one: splitting into 'hero' and 'villain' groups, a showdown at the docks, both sides giving their all until an explosion knocked us into the water. Safety equipment would be used on those ocean-bound, harnesses attached to ropes to prevent unnecessary injury.

When Ayumu announced the groups and who was up for a morning swim, my stomach sank. Being underwater was challenging on the best days but watching Ayumu delegate roles, I knew better than to argue. He'd reached that magical place where reason didn't matter, where he expected the impossible and we somehow gave it to him. Weakness had no place here:

Not if we expected to keep our jobs.

"Azumi–"

I shook my head, retreating to the equipment crew. The fight would be filmed first but we still needed to be fitted for harnesses. I bit back a hiss when straps tightened across the scratches, conscious of eyes upon me but not daring to look up. If I accepted pity now, I had no right to be here.

There was no room in this industry for cowards.

"Boss-man," Tatsuo's voice cut through as I handed the device back, one of the lucky 'heroes' who wouldn't get a sea bath. "Did someone forget to order the wind machine? We can't do the scene without it, should've been here an hour ago."

At this Ayumu paused, a smirk curling his lip. "That's what we've got him for." He jutted a thumb at Jin, who watched everyone running around with wide-eyed wonder.

Tatsuo did well in not paling like many of our coworkers but his brows rose, rolling a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. "Oh?"

"Jin, do your thing!"

Ears perking at the call, it took a moment for him to process the order. Jin discarded his windbreaker to reveal a white tank-top, as well as thick arms and a barrel chest. That chest expanded as he grinned, hair drifting in the breeze.

"You lot may want to stand back."

The warning barely sounded before a gust picked up, staggering those nearest him and blowing his jacket to who-knows-where. Jin waited until everyone was out of immediate reach before spreading his legs wide, right arm raised in a straight line. Then, he rotated his arm in a perfect circle, picking up speed until the motion could no longer be followed. I couldn't tell when the wind began gathering around the limb but suddenly it was there, a miniature tornado ready to wreck whatever it touched. A moment more of this and his fist emerged from the twister, a cap for one of nature's oldest horrors.

And just like that, he let it go, a twinkle in his eye as he thrust his fist seaward. The tornado funneled down his arm without hesitation, vortex steady, shooting across the pier and into the ocean. Countless waves rose to meet the twister, wet hands trying and failing to embrace it until the wind fizzled out far from shore.

A gasp, the sound of a grown man fighting tears and silence reigned, all eyes focused on that outstretched arm. Jin's smile grew, fang cresting his lip as he shook out the offending limb.

"That is our wind machine!" Ayumu grinned, oblivious or uncaring of the collective terror, I couldn't tell. "All right people, places!"

The first filming went without a hitch, well-timed strikes and blocks flowing so well the battle appeared real to the untrained eye. Of course, we stopped just short of hurting each other; shadow boxing, at best, but we put on a good show. Only four of us would make it into the water, the rest left to lie on the cold concrete. A cake walk:

The one dull part of this job.

Tatsuo met my gaze as his partner fell, the last of my predestined opponents. The other six continued on but I saw his smirk, feet slipping into a familiar stance. He was bored to tears, one of the lucky ones who would remain dry. The raised chin, shoulders level as he raised both arms: if I wanted him on the ground, I'd have to earn it. A distraction.

A welcome one.

I charged, choreographed moves forgotten as we clashed. A rapid exchange of blows, counting down the time. Ten seconds; this couldn't last longer than ten seconds. A block sure to leave a bruise, a kick which forced him back. Fire in my gut as his punch found the scratches there, a narrowly avoided elbow to the face. Spit flying as my uppercut landed, a swift kick to the hip finishing the job and taking him down.

Ayumu called the scene and the work-studies rushed out, marking everyone's positions with chalk. Motaru appeared as I helped Tatsuo up, two water bottles in-hand.

"Great job, you guys!" He grinned, heaping praise while we drank. "I wish I had moves like that!"

Tatsuo came up for air first, unconcerned with his quickly swelling jaw. "What are you waiting for? I already said I'll teach you."

Motaru reddened, gaze falling to his feet. "That kind of thing's . . . not for me. Thanks, though."

We already knew what his answer would be – they'd been through this dozens of times. Despite his physique and line of work, Motaru was one of the rare souls who went out of his way to avoid hurting others. The few times he'd done so here, Motaru felt so badly he not only gave an overly formal apology but sent flowers, even though the 'injuries' were nothing more than a bloody nose or lip. He was a pacifist, someone who believed that deep down everyone was intrinsically good:

Sometimes I envied his view of the world.

Jin watched us beside Ayumu, ears wiggling, a stupid grin on his face. My feet turned without permission, carrying me to the demon who could fashion hurricanes from his fists. Blue eyes twinkling, Jin met me halfway, hand perched on either hip.

"Not bad! Thought Speckles had ya for a moment there!"

"Speckles–?"

"I'm talking about when Tatsuo punched ya. I was sure you'd lose some teeth after that one but no! You took him down like whoo!" Movement accompanied his play-by-play, reenacting my strikes perfectly. "Didn't think normal humans could fight like that but you proved me wrong."

"Most can't." I had no idea what he meant by a 'normal' human but let it go, thumbs finding my belt loops. "Isn't it the same where you're from?"

"Nah, if ye can't look after yourself back home you'll either wind up on someone's fist or their table." His ears wiggled once more, peering over my shoulder. "You her teacher?"

Familiar steps and Tatsuo chuckled, reddened jaw already swelling. "Was it that obvious?"

"Only figured it out 'cause I've been doing this a long time." Jin crossed his arms, hair catching the breeze. "You're a real chancer, ye know that? Must hurt something fierce."

He motioned to Tats' leg and the older man smiled, brushing off his concern. "This is nothing. I do worse to her all the time."

Jin laughed, a hearty sound hinting of gales on stormy nights. "I'd love to get a gander of that!"

"You're welcome at my dojo anytime; it might bore you, though."

"Thanks, looking forward to it!" Jin glanced at me once more, a smirk curling his lip. "Actually, you remind me of a pal o' mine, the way you barreled in and all that. You'd get on well, for sure."

Before I could question him about this 'friend', Ayumu called everyone back together. Most of us knew what to do: the defeated returned to their positions on the ground while the rest slipped into black harnesses, checking the clasps and gray cord anchored to the dock.

"Remember, we're trying to get this in one shot." The director glanced at the sky and sea while the safety team went over our handiwork. "If we can't it's not the end of the world but we'll have to wait for everyone to dry off and then go again – there's only so much daylight."

I took my place before Tatsuo, along with the other four ocean-bound souls. A soft word from Ayumu and Jin retreated a few paces, taking on the stance from before. The countdown sounded over the rising gale, blue eyes ensnaring mine, fangs peeking from that mouth as his arm swung faster and faster. A snarling smile.

A demon's smile.

"ACTION!"

Jin stepped into his front punch, releasing the wind and sending it our way. Professionalism won out and we met the gust without fear but I couldn't control the images flashing in my mind's eye: a familiar riverbank, a warm hand holding mine, mom's smile; a monster emerging from the gloom, arm reaching, falling into blue. The man-thing eating her arm, bloodstained lips curling to reveal fangs–

The gale slammed into my chest and I screamed, wind swallowing all sound and sending us flying.

Cold and the force of the impact stole what breath remained, salt water filling my lungs and pulling me under. Fingers fumbling with the metal clip, my legs tangled in the cord, panic devouring years of protocol and training. Stinging eyes glaring at the water, watching the others surface without seeing, sinking deeper and deeper.

He was coming for me; I knew he was. The clawed hand stretched elegant, inhuman fingers; reaching, inching for my throat. Black dotted my vision, infecting the bubbles like cancer. Falling, I was falling and couldn't stop. Everything hurt–

Mommy, why does it hurt?

A low roar and something wrapped around my abdomen, pulling me up, setting me free. Dimly, I realized I was out of the water but couldn't make sense of the palm beating my back, the breeze in my hair, the voice whispering in my ear.

"C'mon. C'mon Odawara, breathe!"

A final blow and water spewed from my mouth, burning my throat and bringing on a coughing fit. The beating stopped but the pressure at my shoulders and knees remained, along with an unexpected warmth. My eyes opened to blue, sky and sea melding together into one glorious color. Wind pulled at my feet and the remnants of cord around one leg, a distorted kite lost to the clouds.

Then I recognized the arms holding me.

And the accent that was in no way Japanese.

Jin didn't flinch at my screams, nor when my arms cinched his neck in a vice-grip. No, he held me tight as I buried my face in his neck, tears watering skin that smelled of earth and forgotten forests.

"Shh, it's alright. I gotcha, I gotcha. Just leave everything to ol' Jin."

I have no idea how long we stayed there, floating so high neither of us could see land. Jin bore the fallout that followed every attack without complaint, allowing me to hide in his arms, not demanding answers to my fear or whatever came out of my mouth. I don't remember what I said or did, only that when the storm passed bloody lines marked his neck and shoulders, and he was looking at me with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years.

"Better now?"

A nod and I swallowed, ashamed to look at him. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" To his credit, Jin figured it out quickly, pointing at one shoulder with his jaw. "This? Don't let it worry ya none, it's healed up already."

Not quite believing him, I touched one sticky streak and found whole flesh beneath. The blood may as well have been lipstick.

"If I knew you were afraid of water, I wouldn't have shot ya into it."

"Part of the job." Maybe I would have sounded more convincing if my body wasn't shaking; Jin tightened his grip further. "It's not the first time this has happened."

Red locks coiling around his head, he took a moment to consider that, gaze never leaving mine. "How long have you been afraid of the sea?"

"It's not just water." A fresh gust and I shivered, pressing closer to his chest. "I don't do well with heights, either."

At this he laughed, a jubilant sound I felt all the way to my bones. "I can help ya with that, no problem! That is," He smiled, unadulterated warmth gathering in his eyes. "I can if you want me to."

The surety of his hands and child-like honesty won out and I returned his smile. "I'd like that, thank you."

"No problem." Another twist of lips and he glanced down, as if sensing something I could not. "We'd better get you back down or they'll be sending someone after us. You ready?"

"Wait, down?" I asked, anxiety knotting my stomach. "How are we getting down?"

"Same way we got up, just like a roller coaster." Jin adjusted his grip, pressing my face to his shoulder. "Up on the hill and goin' down! Ready? Here we goooooooooooo!"

Jin dropped like a stone mid-sentence and the only thing that kept me from biting my tongue was his hand on my head. Stomach lost somewhere in the sky, I squeezed my eyes shut while he laughed, falling faster and faster until suddenly he hit the brakes and we were vertical again.

Compared to the breezes above, everything seemed incredibly loud: hurried footsteps, crashing waves, and dozens of voices all chiming at once.

"Azumi!"

Jin lowered me to the ground but for some reason my legs wouldn't work, so he helped me sit down. The noise rose, amplifying and melding into one, discordant sound. Nausea rose and I covered my mouth, leaning back against Jin's shin.

"Azumi!"

"Pipe down, you lot!" Jin's voice cut through the din, silencing the assembly. "Give her a moment, would ya?"

Blissful quiet, then a familiar voice; Motaru. "You've got some nerve ordering us around, demon! You could have killed her–"

"I saved her life." Jin remained calm, still, though for my benefit or theirs, I didn't know. "Or couldn't ya tell she was drowning?"

"I . . . What?"

"He's right." Ayumu stepped forward, offering me a towel. "Something went wrong down and by the time I realized it, Jin was already in the water. If he hadn't stepped in, we may not have made it to Odawara in time."

The cloth on my face almost drowned out the murmurs that followed, hid the stares I knew were there. "I'm alright." Rising without help, I draped the towel around my neck, bowing to Ayumu. "Sorry but can I have a short break? I can do the scene again."

"No need, we can edit out the last bit." He said, bowing back. "Get some rest."

I retreated to the medical tent with Jin on my heels, not looking back as the group moved onto another scene.

A/N: Hello and welcome back! Thank you to those who have followed, favorited and left reviews, as well as those who are patient in sometimes long absences.

Writing this chapter was so much fun! Jin has been part of Hey You's cast for a while now and I'm glad he's finally made his appearance. What did you think of his being part of Azumi's crew? Whether we want to admit it or not, fear of the unknown is something every human has to overcome so please be patient with the humans in this story as they come to grips with "monsters" being real.

So, Azumi is now working with Jin. Can he help her work through some of her trauma and encourage old wounds to heal, or will he make things worse? We're back to Kurama for his first dance lesson next chapter, so don't miss it! Until next time guys, don't forget to leave a review!