I tweaked the prompt a bit. Went more with "land"/"lands." You'll see.

Day 22: "Landing"

He arrived on her rooftop at nightfall, darkness descending like the hem of his long black cloak upon the rain-slicked tiles. Through her window spilled warm light. Beyond the foggy panes she reclined against the pillows on her bad, back to him with her face turned toward the wall as she—as she did something. Hiei didn't particularly care what, just as he didn't care to announce himself before wrenching up the sash. He also didn't care when Meigo didn't react, lying there on her side facing the wall without moving as he climbed down onto her desk, thinking he might as well give her a good scare as he watched her sway gently forward and back, arms wrapped around herself, head gently bobbing—

He not-cared a little less when she gave a sniff, wiping at her face with a hand that shook.

Hiei could move quite quietly when he wanted to. Just then, he wanted to. He crawled back out the window, holding his breath so he wouldn't smell the salt of her tears, and shut the pane with a sound no louder than a whisper—and then he wrenched the window up again as noisily as he could, stomping with all of his weight in the middle of Meigo's desk.

That time she actually heard him, sitting up with a startle and a sniffle while blotting her eyes on one hasty sleeve. "Hiei," she said, not meeting his eyes. From her fist trailed a length of white cord that snaked its way up into her ears. "Learn to knock, why don't you?"

"Sorry," said Hiei (with infinite snark and absolutely no sincerity). "Not really my style."

Meigo scoffed, turning her reddened eyes and shiny nose back toward the wall, rubbing at her face again. Light glinted off a bit of glass between her fingers, object aflame with an unnatural glow he recognized at once: that strange little music object she'd received from the mysterious Hiruko back on Hanging Neck Island, the one that had caused such an uproar when the others had first learned of its existence. Too much fuss over a tiny hunk of metal and plastic, but it was no skin off Hiei's nose.

"What are you listening to?" he asked when Meigo stopped sniffing. "Well. At least I assume that's what you were doing."

One brown eye peered blearily over her shoulder. "It's… a song I haven't heard in a long time." At last she uncurled a little, turning toward him as she tucked hair behind her ear. "Well. A version of it I haven't heard in a long time, anyway." Her lashes lowered, eyes hooded and shoulders slumped. "It lands differently now."

Hiei wasn't sure if he liked the way her voice had roughened—like perhaps she would cry again, which obviously was not what Hiei wanted. Tears were useless, after all. He'd sooner hack off his own arm than watch someone cry. But clearly that little hunk of metal and plastic (something Kurama had once described as "a portal to Meigo's past" in a disgusting fit of unnecessary poeticism) meant something to her, and that at least made Hiei curious.

"What song is it?" he asked.

The question was innocuous enough. She's shared music with Hiei many times. But that time, she did not offer him one of the earpieces so he could listen in. Instead she looked away and pulled the pieces from her ears, wrapping them around and around the device in her hand while she stared at the floor.

"I think," she murmured, "I'd like this version to be mine for a little while."

Hiei didn't experience emotions so dull as disappointment, but something in his chest felt like it deflated—and he hated it, so he scoffed and said, "Secrets. I should've known. It isn't like I care, anyway."

"Of course not," said Meigo. Stretching out her legs, she swung them off the bed and smiled. "Would be very out-of-character for you, anyway."

She went to the record player at the foot of her bed, hunting in the cubby below for one of her many albums. Hiei pointedly ignored her as she pulled one free and slipped a flat disc of vinyl from its protective sleeve. He looked steadfastly out the window as she placed the record on the turntable and position the needle midway across its face, tine catching on the record's minute grooves and pulling music forth. A woman's voice, mournful and heartfelt, warbled through the cool air atop a winding river of cool strings and gentle chords. Perhaps Kurama, in one of his fits of poeticism, would call it a haunting melody. But Hiei was no poet, so he simply listened, and thought of no words to describe it at all.

It ended eventually, as all songs do. Meigo waited by the record player until the final chord faded into silence, lifting the needle free and tracing her fingertip along the record's rounded edge.

"That's the original version of the song." For the first time that night, she smiled. "It's beautiful."

Hiei wasn't sure he understands what she meant, or if he even agreed. "What does it mean?" he asked instead, staring at the record, too.

Meigo frowned. "The song?"

"What else would I be talking about, you fool?"

That earned him a chuckle, a happy chuff of contentment pulled like a snarled bit of twine from Meigo's chest. "All songs mean different things to different people. But that one, to me…" Her head inclined, eyes staring into the far-off. "Living. Growing. Learning to let go of what's comfortable. And being afraid of what comes next."

"Fear is useless," Hiei said, sneering.

Her eyes closed, and her smile deepened. "The song also means knowing that what you fear will make you stronger." Opening her eyes again, she shrugged, sheepish. "Maybe, anyway. Ask me again in a few years, I'll have a different answer. I'll be a different person by then, after all."

She played the record from the start, then. Meigo did homework while Hiei sat alone, thinking about what she'd said and the mournful melody she'd played him.

He wondered to himself what Meigo had meant when she said she'd be a different person soon.

He wondered to himself if he would be a different demon by then, too.

He wondered these things in silence—and when the record ceased to sing, he stood up, and he played it a second time.

Took "landing" (the prompt) and tweaked it a bit ("lands different" and "Landslide," the name of the song itself). That song means a lot to me, and its lyrics can really uniquely apply to NQK's struggle with her identity in her new life. The version of the song she's listening to privately is by The Chicks. The version on the record she played is the original by Fleetwood Mac. Both versions have meant different things to me at different parts of my life.

I know what NQK meant there, but I'll leave it open to interpretation.

Many thanks to those who chimed in yesterday. You're the best: C S Stars, tammywammy9, xenocanaan, firestar91, LadyEllesmere, cestlavie, Kaiya Azure, buzzky97, ladyofchaos and guests.