Author's Note: I completely forgot to upload this chapter here! I blame covid brain for not thinking straight.

He stares down at the tiny square of paper bearing a number so large he can hardly comprehend it. So many zeroes laid out like mouths gaping up at him. Even split three ways he'll be set for a while. A long while. Enough to waste, yes. But enough to save too. The type of money that could give him a future.

It disappears in Shiren's clenched fist before being lobbed into the gutter. Heavy rain batters the bus shelter the three have met in. He watches the crumpled piece of paper float away until the metal jaws of the gutter swallow it.

Mugen knows not to look too eager. Mukuro beside him does not. His eyes are alight with untold possibilities that can realistically be narrowed down to women, drugs, and gambling. He's simple like that. It would be a lie if Mugen said he didn't also think about the uncreative ways he could use this sort of money. He wouldn't blow through all of it though which is the difference between the two. He prides himself on being a little more multifaceted than his friend.

"That's a hefty promise seeing as how I ain't done shit yet."

"Don't sell yourself short," Shiren admonishes with a greasy grin, "You're living in Kasumi's home. That's an impressive feat. You take pictures of the right things tonight and that number might even go up even higher."

There he goes: upselling like the sleazy salesman he is.

All he's been able to glean from the rat about the people he's reporting to is that they want to tip the scales away from Kasumi and toward another politician. He's seen campaign posters of the guy around the city. He's got a creepy, clinical smile plastered across his smooth face. The exact type of shiny plastic guy he'd expect to be involved in blackmail and extortion.

Mukuro slaps a burner phone into Mugen's palm as the last bus of the night slows to a halt.

"Oh," Shiren adds, "One more thing. Make sure you're getting along with the kid too."

Mugen sucks in a tense breath.

"Why the hell would I need to do that?"

"It'll keep you on Kasumi's good side."

"I'm already on his good side. I saved her."

"You can only milk that for so long. Worry about getting on her good side now."

Just one problem with that:

The little bitch hates him.

Surprisingly because of this, his opinion of her improves—if only marginally. She's at least not moping around or trying to get buddy-buddy with him anymore. That ship fucking sailed. He hasn't forgotten when she tried prying into his personal business before storming off when he didn't give her what she wanted. Now he's just subjected to the typical ire of a teenage brat. Anytime he needs to take a piss she magically shows up to claim the bathroom. If she's within the proximity of a door he can bet soon after it'll be slammed in his face.

Something in his surly expression must tip them off that they're not exactly on friendly terms.

"I don't care how you do it."

"Might even be good for you to get your dick wet again." Mukuro offers with a grin. "She might really like you then."

Mugen's eyes narrow. From behind them, the bus driver makes a loud noise of impatience, apparently tired of waiting around for them to get on.

Mukuro holds up his hands in defense, beginning to walk backward.

"You've been moping ever since that one chick dumped your ass. Just sayin'...wouldn't hurt to try."

"She didn't dump my ass," he mutters as the two get on the bus. He lifts his hood against the rain and heads back to Kasumi's place.

At the mention of his ex, his stomach tightens uncomfortably.

She did dump his ass. Worst of all he didn't even see it coming. She was a one-night thing that turned into two, that turned into weekly that turned into something else completely. She became a regular fixture in his bed. Well, her bed. He'd spend his nights at her apartment, screwing her until they both collapsed and she ordered takeout. She was clean; never had to worry about her pupils being blown wide and empty.

Sometimes when he finished working for the day he'd take her out for a ride on one of the bikes he fixed. When she found out most of his income came from stealing and reselling them, she didn't even blink, just shook her head like it was a cute quirk of his.

The last time they slept together she got up to get dressed. He was just admiring how her ass jiggled when she tugged on her jeans when she turned to tell him she was leaving. Him . He sat there slack-jawed, the high from his orgasm taking a nosedive as she oh-so-fucking casually explained that she decided to get back together with an old boyfriend from high school. They were going to move up north to be near her parents.

"Just like that?" he said, betrayal burning hot like acid in his throat "Just wanted to fuck me one more time before you go?"

God, he hated how pathetic he sounded. Was he a goddamn scorned woman?

She never even gave any signs that she was sick of him. They never even so much as argued which is a miracle for him. He argues with everyone. The only memories he has of his own parents are of them screaming at each other, chucking whatever garbage they can get their hands on. They never even got close to that. Shit, he thought he at least had that going for him.

He couldn't stand the pity in her expression when she reached down to pat him on the head.

"Oh, Mugen. You're a lot of fun…"

He shook her touch from him.

"But?"

He always admired her straightforwardness. She sees the world exactly as it is. No candy-coating. No bright-side, glass-half-full bullshit. Like him, her eyes don't glide past the truth to settle on a comfortable lie. She looks at life head-on. Which meant she always saw him for exactly who he was.

"But we both know you're not long-term material."

Her words pierced him until he felt something inside of himself deflate. Something that wasn't even that full, to begin with.

After that, he spent a solid week proving her point, fucking his way through his contact list—sending her pictures of himself in bed with different women. Just to show how easy it was for him to move on. He drank late into the night until he had to peel himself away from unfamiliar mattresses in the morning. Nothing soothed the sting of rejection. It still pisses him off how a piece of ass could make him forget that people aren't permanent. Everyone eventually lets you down.

So, long story short: no, getting his dick wet again was the last thing he needed right now. Especially not with Kasumi's kid.

He thinks of the girl— how it felt to follow her the day she snuck out. Predator stalking prey. The dark satisfaction in watching how his presence finally sent her head-in-the-clouds awareness plummetting back to earth. He trapped her against a wall, her trembling body caught in a vice, triumph singing in his veins. He was going to teach her a lesson. One that would keep her from wandering out alone into a world filled with people worse than him. She wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Only she didn't react how he wanted her to.

When she realized it was him, all the terror he incited was replaced with outrage. He was still a stranger who pulled her into a dark alley, fuck her anger, she should be worried about him — what he could do to her. Instead, he felt her body go pliant against his. This pissed him off even more.

Despite her obvious annoyance with him since that night, there's still a trace of curiosity in her brown eyes when she looks at him. One that hovers briefly when she thinks he's not looking. And he hates her for it.

Once he's back at the house he shakes off his wet jacket and sets off to Kasumi's office. The Governor sends him updates daily on where he is and how long he'll be. He knows he won't be back until near morning. He pauses in the hall, hearing the hiss of the shower kick on. She always hogs all the hot water so he knows he has time to search now.

He pushes the office door open, slipping inside quietly. A lamp left illuminated in the corner half blocked by a dying houseplant casts sharp shadows across the floor. He snaps a few pictures of the room, unsure of what counts as helpful and what doesn't.

He approaches the desk. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses rest on yesterday's newspaper next to a precarious stack of documents that he knows better than to mess with. He opens a laptop and a password screen blinks up at him. Something to dig through another time. He closes it with a soft click.

He opens a few drawers at random, snapping pictures of the contents, but as far as offices go, nothing seems out of the ordinary which worries him. A few pens and highlighters roll around with discarded computer mice and tangles of cords. Nothing nefarious.

The bookshelf behind the desk is loaded with plaques of accomplishments, newspaper clippings of ribbon cuttings and handshakes, and endless stern leather-bound books on law. There are also a few framed photographs. Some black and white ones of long-deceased family members. A traditional wedding ceremony with a younger looking Kasumi, a pretty woman in a white kimono at his side. He picks up a silver framed one with the same woman and little girl playing in the ocean. The little girl is mid-splash, her frozen smile pointed at the picture-taker. His thumb swipes away a thin layer of dust over her small face.

The hiss of the shower stops. He sends the photos he's taken to the only number programmed into the phone before backing out of the office.

He passes the girl in the hall wearing an oversized white robe, patting a towel against her wet hair. Her steps slow when she sees him, skin flushed, tinted pink from the shower, leaving tiny drops that fall softly to the floor. She's brought along a waft of something sweet and feminine. It fucks with his head seeing her like this. Mukuro's fault for running his mouth. Not to mention all her talk about him being a pervert and she's still got the nerve to walk around half-naked. She's got so little self-preservation it pisses him off. He imagines pressing her into the wall now, threatening to drag the neck of her robe down, finally stamping out all of that stupid curiosity in her eyes.

And he's supposed to get her to trust him? To like him?

He doesn't worry about making people like him. They either do or they don't. More often than not they don't, which is fine; he doesn't like himself either. Maybe if he hadn't lashed out at her immediately he wouldn't be in this weird position. He could have gone along with the big hero thing for her. Probably would have thrown herself at him then.

A stray drop of water works its way from the end of a tendril of hair stuck to her cheek, trailing down toward her jaw. He watches it, distracted by a crazy desire to swipe it away. As if sensing this, her fingers tighten around the towel in her hands, her voice defensive.

"What is it?"

"Nothin'," he grumbles, stalking past her to the bathroom.

He slams the door behind him, happy to put a barrier between them until he's engulfed in a steamy, sweet-smelling fog that clogs the rest of his thoughts.

Muffled noises from the living room TV drift down the hall to her room. Cursing and yelling followed by a spray of bullets. If Mugen's not watching trashy reality TV with women rolling around in skimpy bikinis, it's something with guys hacking each other to death.

The afternoon slogs by, boredom causing her head to droop. There's a spread of pens and markers laid out before her along with an open textbook and laptop. She hasn't typed a single word. The rough draft for her history essay is practically unreadable but all she's managed to make progress on is a colorful spray of flowers doodled in the corner of her notebook.

Soon her tutor will be there for her weekly torture session. She was spared in the days immediately following the accident but a curt text message on her phone says he'll be there on time. Always punctual. He's currently in law school, apparently top of his class. Her father is paying him an obscene amount of money to discretely check over her homework and keep her grades above water.

If he wasn't so quiet and strict she might enjoy his company if only to spend the time staring at him. With his pale skin and shoulder-length hair swept back into a ponytail, she always thought he looked like a model. Her initial infatuation with him withered away almost at once however, the first time he returned her homework back to her, red-lined to hell and back. He never holds back on critiquing her. That's when she decided he was way too intellectual for her anyway. Not even a supposed assassination attempt would keep that man from showing up for work.

She's also not thrilled to be stuck with Mugen at the same time. She's stopped trying to figure out his motive for saving her. Who cares what makes him tick. Sharing a bathroom with him has given her way too much insight into the type of guy he is. Not only is he a jerk, he's gross too. When she's not having to kick his dirty underwear from the floor she's having to clean up the hair he leaves in the sink. He still has a scruffy face, so she tries not to think too hard about where exactly the hair came from without gagging. Their only direct interactions amount to dirty looks and slammed doors.

She hasn't gone out since that day. She can't stop replaying the scene in the alley in her head. I could take whatever the hell I wanted and you couldn't do shit about it. That means anyone else could too . Later when she cooled down, she wondered if maybe, in a small, very deluded way, he was trying to teach her a lesson.

She remembers the brush of his fingers against her thigh, the feel of him pressed so close. Blood rushes to her cheeks. A really stupid lesson.

The doorbell rings snapping her from her thoughts. She pushes herself from the bed with a sigh and heads down the hall. To her shock, Mugen has made himself useful and answered it himself. She hears his rough voice.

"Who the fuck are you?"

She rounds the corner in time to watch his feet fall from under him as he's knocked to the ground. She blinks in surprise, shocked by the ruthless efficiency of her usually mild-mannered tutor as he presses a knee into Mugen's back.

"Call the police," He calls out to her calmly, "I'll take care of him until they arrive."

Does he think he's an intruder? He does look a little scruffy with his oil-stained clothes and wild hair.

"Jin, wait—"

"The fuck you will!" Mugen spits, ripping himself from Jin's grip. He rolls to his side, kicking him back against the front door with a heavy thud. He knocks over one of the mirrors hanging by the entrance in the process, sending glass crashing to the ground.

"Are you kidding me right now?" she groans. "Can you guys just stop for a second?"

It's like she's not even there. Undeterred, Jin unsheathes an umbrella from a stand by the door like it's a sword. Five minutes earlier she was nodding off over her homework and now it's like Mugen's stupid action movie came to life in her living room.

Before Jin can pull back to attack again she launches herself in front of Mugen, arms thrown up in defense.

"He's not an intruder! He's my bodyguard! "

The umbrella stills, held aloft. He blinks at her before frowning at Mugen behind her.

"It's kind of a new thing," she adds apologetically. "Now could you–"

She nods at the umbrella. He lowers it, reaching down to help Mugen to his feet.

"Forgive me. I thought you were breaking and entering."

Mugen ignores his hand, jumping to his feet. He rounds on her angrily, like she was the one about to bash his brains in with an umbrella.

"What the fuck?"

"This is Jin," she explains weakly. "My tutor."

"You didn't think to tell me you had someone comin' over?"

So it's my fault? All the simmering anger with him flares up within her. All his menacing looks and pointed eye rolls have worn on her nerves. Ever since he pulled her into that alley he's been a nightmare to deal with.

"Sorry I didn't realize you'd be stupid enough to think that anyone who walks through the door is a threat!"

"Says the bitch who almost got run over. I'm doin' my damn job."

"Well, maybe it's not the job for you if you're so touchy!"

"That asshole threw hands at me first!"

Another distraction appears—this time in the form of their housekeeper. She opens the door without knocking, looking over the three of them briefly. Shino has an uncanny way of assessing any situation from the get-go. Her eyes trail over the glass, to the umbrella in Jin's hand to Mugen, and finally to Fuu. Ever unruffled by unusual circumstances, she hops over the shards of glass, sweeping past the two men, and pulls Fuu into a hug so tight she wonders if her ribs will crack. She pulls back, worried eyes sweeping over her.

"I'm so glad you're okay."

For the first time since that day, she feels an unexpected swell of emotion. Her father hired Shino almost two years ago. During that time she never once felt like someone who just worked for her father. She became like an older sister to her, guarding her secrets like one.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come any sooner."

"I'm fine, really," Fuu says with a smile. "Thank you for the sunflower."

Shino turns back and marches right up to Mugen. He takes an involuntary step back, looking dumbstruck when she reaches up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you for saving her."

Fuu sputters.

" Wha-what are you doing?"

Mugen's shocked expression melts smoothly into a devious grin.

"You know, if you really wanna thank me, I can think of a few other options..."

Fuu grinds her teeth. No way in hell is she going to let this creep hit on her.

Jin clears his throat. His disapproving expression clearly mirroring her thoughts. Good, she's got someone on her side for this at least.

Shino goes to the closet near the genkan to hang up her sweater.

"I'd actually appreciate it if you two could clean up the mess you just made."

She presses a dustpan into his hands and a broom into Jin's.

"You don't mind, right?"

Jin shakes his head and dutifully begins to sweep the mess at once. Mugen begrudgingly kneels down to scoop some of the glass, still eyeing her with interest.

Mugen lets out a loud, satisfied belch.

"Always said a good woman should know how to cook."

Gross . Fuu rolls her eyes. She knows a pointed jab when she hears one.

Mugen is more talkative than he's been all week and it annoys the hell out of her. He didn't hesitate to help Shino around the house, taking out the trash for her, lingering in the kitchen while she made dinner. His idea of pickup lines are so stupid . Shino didn't fall for them; she just gave him a polite, yet vague smile, trading amused looks with Fuu.

"I can cook just fine," she mutters, stabbing a potato with her fork.

Jin sits across from her, looking supremely uncomfortable. Shino insisted he stay for dinner too. He can never tell her no. No one can. All she has to do is flash a smile and they turn into putty in her hands. Fuu is envious of this trait. No one loses their train of thought when she smiles.

From the look on her tutor's face though, he's not a fan of her new bodyguard being a dinner guest either. He's been uncharacteristically distracted all afternoon, shooting disapproving glances his way.

"All I've seen you do is use the toaster. Maybe you should be taking notes. Oh, wait—" Mugen pauses, hitting her with a nasty smile, "you're not good at that either, are you?"

She grinds her teeth. No, she would not have chosen to have Jin come over today. Mugen is the last person she wants knowing how terrible she's doing in her classes. Not only did he linger around Shino, but he also leaned on a wall nearby to hear Jin's critique of her essay.

"At least it's better than eating instant ramen for every meal," she says, aggressively cutting her pork cutlet, now thinking she should have let Jin beat him with an umbrella.

"That's all I can afford. Sorry I wasn't born with a gold fork in my mouth."

"Silver spoon," she corrects, adding under her breath, " Idiot ."

"Anyway," he says ignoring her, letting out a contented sigh, "it's just good to be around a woman who knows her way around the kitchen. Maybe you could come by later and—"

"How is Akio doing?" Fuu interjects brightly.

"He's doing well." Shino smiles knowingly, "He's out shopping with my mother for the afternoon."

Mugen's face sinks into a pout.

"He a boyfriend or something?"

She stands, gathering the dishes from the table.

"Akio is my son."

Fuu expects him to show disgust since he seems like the sort of guy who would balk at the idea of a single mother, but instead, he just goes quiet, which is the only miracle she needs right now.

Jin stops Shino from grabbing his plate, helping her clear the table with a mumbled thanks. Their fingers touch briefly, both their faces turning pink. Fuu has been watching the two of them for a while now, waiting for the day either one of them admits the obvious.

Though she's never outright admitted it, Shino has alluded to believing he wouldn't want to get involved with her because of her son—that it's too complicated to involve him in their lives. He should have someone with less going on. There's still an enormous, and completely unfair, stigma against single mothers, something Fuu has ranted about for a while now.

Fuu doesn't believe Jin would think that way. While he's strict, he's not without his quiet moments of kindness. A month earlier Shino mentioned in passing that Akio's birthday was coming up. The next day he dropped off a wrapped gift to Fuu, telling her to give it to Shino for him. She told him he should do it himself but he shook his head, insisting he didn't want to be rude. As far as getting him to open up about his feelings, he's a shut book. Worse. He's a shut book that's been chained, padlocked, thrown into a safe, and dumped into the ocean. He's never made a move on her, but Fuu has kept a careful eye, catching the moments his eyes soften on Shino.

She grimaces, watching Mugen pick his teeth at the table and decides she'd rather help Shino in the kitchen.

"Isn't it nice having company?" Shino asks, sliding dishes into the sink.

It's definitely the most crowded the house has been aside from the rare times her father is actually home in time for dinner. Still, it's not the company she would choose. She tosses a glum look over at the table where the two men seem to be having a competition on who can look like they're having the most miserable time.

"I wouldn't call having dinner with my bodyguard and tutor a fun time."

Shino gives her a sly grin, bumping against her playfully.

"You're more full of life than I've seen in a while. It's almost worth watching him rile you up."

She's only full of life because Mugen seems to get sick enjoyment out of annoying her. Every word out of his mouth is sarcastic. The fact that Shino is the first person he's been nice to doesn't escape her notice. Something about it pricks at her. She scrubs a plate like she has a personal vendetta.

"Ha ha. Glad you're entertained. I'd personally like to spend a night with people who aren't getting paid to deal with me."

Shino snatches the plate from her before she scrubs through the enamel.

"I know it's not ideal, but you can let yourself get swept out to sea or you can fight against the current. I would also bet there's at least one person in this room who loves you regardless of whether or not they're getting paid." she sticks her tongue out and adds. "You brat."

Fuu smiles sheepishly.

"You're right. He's just driving me crazy… always jumping to the worst conclusions. You saw him freak out earlier! It's not like I'm gonna get run over in my own home."

At this, Shino's brows sink.

"Well, I'm grateful you have someone around so willing to jump to your defense." She bites her lip, "When I saw that video—the way that car swerved for you…I know you like to ignore these things, but someone wanting to hurt you really scares me. I think you should rely on someone like him."

She does ignore it. It's easier to handle if she pretends it's not a big deal, laughs it off. They don't really want to hurt her, they want to get at her father. She's just caught in the crossfire. Just like her mom was.

Shino seems to read her mind, reaching a hand for hers, squeezing lightly.

"That wasn't a small thing he did. He's a little abrasive now, but just for a little while, give him a chance."

How are you two getting along? I know she can be a handful at times.

Kasumi's text comes in at the same time as Shiren's:

How's it going with the kid?

He hasn't answered either one. There's too much pressure. Too much money is riding on him getting her to like him when it comes way more naturally getting her to hate him.

A timid knock hits his door. He gets up, wrenching it open.

It's the girl. She jumps a little.

"I-I'm thirsty." She announces.

He suppresses the automatic so what trying to escape his mouth. He's already spent the whole day prodding at her, the exact opposite of what he's supposed to be doing. Something about teasing her comes too easily, watching her face go red before she bites back at him. It's probably been the most fun he's had in a while.

"There are some vending machines down the street, by the post office." she continues nervously, "would you mind walking with me?"

He checks his phone.

"It's late."

Her cheeks flush pink and she nods, already backing away.

"Yeah, you're right. Then maybe another time."

He sighs, running a hand over his tired face. Might as well take a stab at the nice guy thing .

"It's fine. Let's go."

The night air is cool on his face, the streets quiet. They walk in silence, not as tense as earlier. He glances at her, watching her chew her bottom lip. She doesn't try to make conversation, which suits him just fine.

They stop in front of one of the machines. He leans against a light post, stifling a yawn.

"I bet I can guess which one you like best," she says, peeking back at him.

"Doubt it."

She looks over the options carefully, pulling a few coins from a small pink coin purse, sliding them into the slot. There's a metallic clanging as she bends to grab the drink, holding it up to show him.

Canned black coffee, the same brand he always chooses.

"I'm right aren't I?" she echos his thoughts smugly, giving the can a little shake. "Say I'm right and I'll let you have it."

He snatches it from her hands. She gawks at him as he cracks it open and chugs it down, only stopping once it's empty.

"How'd you guess?" He asks, wiping the back of his mouth.

"I cheated." She admits, "I saw an empty one in your room when you opened the door."

"Huh."

She stares up at him expectantly and he blinks.

"You gonna get somethin' or what?"

"Right!" She says, turning back, hitting a button at random until a peach tea tumbles out.

They start to make their way back when she stops abruptly and he almost runs into her.

"I know you're just doing your job, but having a bodyguard." Her face twists unpleasantly around the word, "It's just so…archaic, but I know it's not your fault and l…I'm sorry."

"The hell brought that on?"

"I don't know, I just think I need to stop being so…" she gestures vaguely. "You know what I mean?"

He gives her a blank look. He has no clue what this chick's issue is. She drags him out at night for a drink she doesn't even seem to want and now she's apologizing?

"It's just…Sometimes you have to choose when to fight the tides or go along with them, right? And lately, I've let myself go along with them for too long and I got swept out further than I meant to. So now I'm fighting against the current like my life depends on it and my arms are tired. And you! You're like, a big wave I wasn't expecting."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a gust of laughter.

"I'm not making any sense, am I? I'm just sorry for being a brat. I want to start over, if we can."

She's smiling at him. It's timid and shy and it's really weird how such a small thing transforms her from a snobby brat to…he's not sure what. Being on the receiving end of her lips curved upward, her expression soft—a trickle of warmth creeps into his chest. He forgets he's supposed to hate her for it. Instead, he hastily latches on to the idea that this is good . This is a step closer to getting her to trust him. That's what his boss wants. Both of his bosses; the Governor and the people trying to ruin the Governor's life.

This girl was almost murdered in broad daylight. She's got every reason to walk around in fear, to be as mean as she fucking wants. He's working for people she should be scared of.

He's not just a wave in her life; he's a tsunami.

"I got it. Big mean wave fuckin' up your life." He coughs, jerking his head toward her house. "It's fine. Come on your majesty."

He can feel her beaming smile on the side of his face like a spotlight as they set off.

"I don't mind you calling me that."

"Yeah, don't get used to it."