A/N: It's been a while! Sorry about that.

I can't promise any regularity, but I haven't forgotten about Thawing Permafrost. For those who are still reading, and still enjoying it, thank you so much for sticking around. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.

'Till next time!

The faculty room bristled with excitement that Mizore wanted no part of. She doubled down on her emails, even as the murmuring grew louder, drawing closer to her desk.

"Miss Shirayuki?"

She tried not to hear it. Miss Nekonome cleared her throat, a tiny quake of a noise that sounded more like a mewl than any signal for attention, but it nevertheless worked. Mizore looked up, painting a smile on as she pushed her fringe back. "Good morning, Miss Nekonome."

Mizore looked up. Behind her feline colleague stood a young man, dark-haired with a smile that slouched much like his shoulders sloped. He looked like he'd spent his days as far away from the sun and food as possible, his skin like tallow smeared over sharp angles of marble. "This is Mister Chuku, Kotsubo's successor."

"Hara Chuku," he said, stepping forward with his hand proferred. She smiled, polite, and returned the gesture. She felt like she was gripping the joints of a spider's legs, "I was informed of the incidents leading up to Mister Kotsubo's dismissal."

"You were, were you?" Mizore arched her eyebrow, turning back to her laptop.

"Yes. I thought it prescient to offer my assurances in person that I intend to put right the damage he's done."

"Okay."

"And so-" Mister Chuku stopped short. "Okay?"

"Yes. Okay." Mizore replied. "I'm sure you'll do great."

He chuckled quietly. "I suppose I should be relieved. I had a whole speech prepped to win you over, but I guess you're more interested in my actions, aren't you?"

"Got it in one."

"That's fair. I'm glad I got this chance to meet you." Mister Chuku bowed, hair swinging in thin ribbons of black. "As your junior, I hope you'll take care of me."

"I'll answer any questions when you've got them," she replied, inclining her head in reluctant response, and nodding to Miss Nekonome, who seemed satisfied, "Shi- Miss Nekonome has my email."

He smiled, genteel, then bowed his head. "Very well. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shirayuki."

Miss Nekonome led the strange, spindly teacher away, glancing back once to smile assuringly at Mizore, who returned it only briefly. She returned to her emails with a heavy heart, a feeling made more difficult to process by the confusion Mister Chuku visited upon her.

Kotsubo had always been leery, his perversions and cruelty writhing under the surface of his muscles and his twisted vision of supporting his students, but on the thinnest veneer that he wrapped over that, he had appeared decent. She knew better than to judge a monster by their cover, but she couldn't shake the revulsion that rolled off this new man's every action. What was more, he'd gone out of his way to assure her, to reach out and make sure that she knew he wouldn't be like Kotsubo.

She sighed. "It's just nerves," she whispered, "Just nerves. You're worried about the exam."

Reflexively, she reached out for her phone.

Ikko braced, locking his hands together, then quickly snapping them apart. A black feather glanced off the flicker of green light that sputtered just above his palms. He winced, stumbling back. His head throbbed. The blow may as well have glanced off the side of his brain, for how it disoriented him.

Ruby's wings relaxed, and he saw when he looked up that she was beaming. "You're improving!"

"You think?" he mumbled, his every word dried by doubt.

"That's three feathers. Last week it was one. Here." she walked over, crossing the makeshift ring they'd made of the classroom by pushing tables out of the way, her wings folding into her back and disappearing, and proferred a bottle of water. Ikko accepted, taking a grateful swig.

"It's still no good in an actual fight. And I get the distinct impression you're holding back on me."

Ruby smiled, shifting from a crouch to a seat as his side. "I'm going easy on you, that's true," she explained, "Most witches are trained to control their magical ability from a very early age. I grew up surrounded by it. It's a miracle that there's enough in you to manifest even this, Ikko, and it's going to take time to master. There's no shortcuts."

"I don't believe that."

"Well," she giggled, "There's no safe shortcuts. None that I'd recommend in my right mind."

"Yeah, that sounds dramatic enough to be plausible," he grinned, offering the water back to her.

"Speaking of minds," she continued, pushing it back to him, "How have you been?"

"Me?" Ikko shifted, "Nothing new. I was expecting things to be a bit more exciting, but it's just exam prep."

"Your exams are important," she said, "The headmaster was quite specific. Your responsibilities only kick in when we're not in term, and only if you're doing well academically. Your education is the priority."

"Oh, yeah," Ikko scoffed, pushing his hair out of the way, "You're teaching me defensive magic because I'm flunking maths, right?"

"I've seen your grades. Miss Ririko isn't one to take your results lightly."

"Wait, this is seriously about my maths?"

"No. I'm kidding." Her laughter sang warm and welcome, inviting Ikko to join. "Your grades are fine. And you're right, the barriers are more for your extra-curricular work than your academic work. We can't protect you as well in the human world."

"You make it sound so dangerous."

"Isn't it?"

"Well-" Ikko paused. "Yeah. I guess it is. All the magic in the world isn't going to stop a bullet."

"Some magic can," Ruby rebuked. Ikko caught the twinge of pride in her voice. "But not yours. Don't go getting any ideas."

"It's community work, Ruby. I'd hope I'm nowhere near so much as an opportunity to jump in front of a gun."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not invicible, don't worry. Believe it or not, I'm not that big on laying in bed wrapped up in squishy balm bandages."

"Oh, aren't you?" Ruby's eyebrow shot up. "Could have fooled me."

Another bout of laughter. Ikko leaned back against the leg of the desk, smiling. He could always rely on Ruby's warmth. She seemed to have an infinite supply, ready to help at a moment's notice. Since the incident with Masumi, she'd been assigned to help him develop his magical talents, but it had never once seemed like a lesson. However, as their practises took the slot that had once been for his 'Guise Training', it meant he had less time with Mizore, which prompted his next question. "How's Mizore?"

Ruby tilted her head, "Why don't you ask her?"

"She's always so busy," Ikko answered, reaching into his pocket for his phone, which he proceeded to fidget with, "She's been wrapped up with exam prep, and club's not the best place to chat, so…"

A knowing smile grew on her lips. "You miss her?"

"I-" Ikko stumbled. "What? No."

"You know," Ruby ventured, her smile growing in a way Ikko didn't appreciate, "I've been meaning to ask. It's none of my business, but…"

"But?"

"Golden Week." Ikko's heart yelped at her words, skipping up a few feet. "You and Mizore – what happened there?"

"N-nothing. We just hung out. Ate pizza. She called Tsukune."

"I know what you did." Ruby pressed. "I mean what happened?"

"I don't follow."

"You're choosing not to!" she giggled, "Your secret's safe with me, Ikko."

"I really-" He wrestled to his feet, restlessly pacing to the opposite end of the ring. "You're reading way too much into this. Nothing happened."

"It doesn't sound like nothing."

"Well, it was!" He looked down to his phone. "Or at least it is. It should be. Right?"

She rose to her feet, more gracefully than he, with a light dusting of her dress. "You tell me."

He shot her a pleading, exasperated look. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because," she perched at his side again, refusing the opportunity to escape, "It's not hard to feel what you're feeling – and it's quite natural. She's very pretty."

"Ruby, she's my teacher," Ikko groaned, "Even if she wasn't, she's a member of staff. I can't – we can't – we shouldn't even be talking about this. You shouldn't be encouraging it!"

"We can't deny what's there," Ruby shrugged, "Or at least, it won't do you any good if you pretend it's not."

He made a few more noises of useless protest, folding his arms. All of a sudden, her reliable warmth had become a sharp, hot bolt of steel with which she poked him. "So… what. You're telling me to move on from it?"

She shook her head, pink eyes closing, pale skin softening. "I'm not telling you to do anything. Just… I haven't seen Mizore like this in a long time. She's happy, I think. Happier – and I think that's thanks to you."

"You're bringing this up to – to not bring this up?" Ikko floundered. "Ruby, what's your point?"

"I don't know." Ruby sighed. "I wish I knew. But I've seen you – I've seen you two, and I… can feel what you're feeling when you look at her."

"You can?"

She nodded. Ikko hummed, his brain latching onto her choice of words. "What am I feeling now?"

"Confusion," she said, without skipping a beat, "Annoyance."

"Ruby – since when did you have a line into my emotions?"

"What?"

"You said that you can feel what I'm feeling," he said, piecing it together, "Not that you can tell, not that you know what it looks like. You said you can feel it."

"Ikko-"

"Since when?"

Ruby blinked. For a moment, Ikko felt it. Confusion. Puzzlement. They locked eyes, and knew. "I felt that," he said.

"So did I," Ruby breathed, "Weird."

"Is this normal magic stuff?"

"No. This isn't magic – this is like…" Ruby furrowed her brow, eyes darting away. She gasped. "We're linked."

"Linked?"

"It must be from when I treated you," she whispered, "Ikko, your magic – ever since it awakened, it must be tapping into the piece of me I gave to help you recover."

"You're kidding."

"Do you have a better explanation?"

He opened his mouth to retort, but the jolt of Ruby's surprise, coupled with the realisation that he was probably talking to one of the experts on magic, stopped him short.

"Can we stop it?"

"No idea," Ruby breathed, biting her thumb, "This is new territory for me. I'll have to do some research."

"What do we do in the meantime?" he complained, "I don't want you knocking around in my head, probably as much as you don't want me rattling around yours."

"Well," she sighed, "I guess your secrets really will have to stay safe with me."

"You were going to tell?"

"What? No! Of course not! Whatever goes on between you two is none of my business."

"You'll forgive me if I'm not convinced."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do," Ikko answered, and the warmth of her smile suggested that he'd answered a bit too quickly, "I do."

She stood, dusting her skirt off. "That settles that, then. Unless you want me to cross my heart?"

"How old are we?" Ikko joked, struggling to his feet. His legs didn't want to co-operate, but at least they did what he asked when forced to, as opposed to the first time they'd tried this exercise, when he'd been immobile for half of the session.

"Just making sure," she replied, "What have you got next?"

"English," he answered, "Then club. You know how hard it is to not talk about the holidays when Nori and Naoko are begging to find out what their seniors' plans are?"

"I'll bet. Are Kia and Etsuko still on board?"

He nodded. It did not take much convincing to get them on board, given their shared trials. He had wondered, in retrospect, what he had ever been worried about. Their bond didn't need a magic link for him to know they would say yes, no matter how relieved he was to hear it.

"It's going to be a busy summer," Ruby huffed, "I feel bad for them."

"Who?"

"The lady who puts us up. We're bringing quite the crowd this year – during peak, too."

"Are any of you going to tell me where it is we're going?"

"Maybe when you pass your exams," she hummed, "When we know you're definitely going to make it."

"No pressure, then.

"None at all."

The bell shrieked from the corridor, distracting them both. Ruby gasped. "We need to reset the room!"

"You didn't think of that earlier!?"

"Neither did you!" she returned, "And I'd know, wouldn't I?"

Despite the panic, they shared a grin, and set to work.

As much as he enjoyed club these days – a thought that Ikko was surprised to find in his head – it had a habit of dragging when he desperately wanted to be anywhere else. The promise of regular visits to the human world, special tasks or no, had him longing for the exams to arrive more than anyone at Yokai – least of all his fellow classmen, who fought for every minute of revision they could swipe from the looming threat of summer school. He was so drained by the end of it that, as they trudged back to the dorm, he barely registered what the girls were talking about.

Kia patted him gently on the arm. "What do you think, Ikko?"

"Whuh."

Etsuko grinned. "You still with us?"

"Oh, sure. What – what are we talking about?"

"Summer!" Kia exclaimed, "Have you found out where we're going? Su won't tell us."

"Have they told you anything?"

"Uh, yeah," Ikko mumbled, "They told me to pass my exams."

"You haven't asked?"

"I have!" Ikko frowned, "I'm not getting any further than you are. We're only going if we pass, so let's deal with that first."

"I didn't think you'd be on their side," Kia complained, pouting.

"Who said I was? Besides–" he yawned, shaking his head, "It's not like we have anything else to do."

"You're not wrong," Etsuko agreed, "But that's no fun."

They made their way up the stairs and split off with a quick goodnight. Ikko followed the crowds for the first few flights then, as the crowds began to dissipate, continued his solitary trudging upstairs. He kept his mind on the stairs, struggling with anything else, and all but collapsed into his door when he reached it. He slung his bag towards his chair, wrestled out of his blazer, and slumped onto his bed with a grateful sigh. "So tired…"

"Does that give you an excuse to lob things at me?"

Somehow the shock, despite suffering it countless times, had begun to feel familiar. Energized, he lifted his head to see Mizore holding his bag out at arm's length. "I didn't see you there."

"Clearly!" She let it drop with an unceremonious thump. "Tired?"

"I thought I was. Turns out your scares work wonders as a second wind. Every time you show up," He snapped his fingers, "Instantly awake."

"You're welcome."

Ikko pushed himself into a proper seat on the edge of the bed, dragging his hands over his face. He hadn't bothered to turn the light on, and neither had she, even though there was no-one on this floor to take issue with a dorm room wasting electricity, but it didn't take full light for him to notice that Mizore wasn't looking straight at him. She kept her pale eyes fixed on the corner of the room, and fidgeted with something obscured by the back of his chair. "So…" he began, venturing slowly towards asking why she was here.

"How was your training?" she finished his sentence, her smile quick.

"Oh – fine. Exhausting."

"Is that why I've had barely a word out of you all day?"

"Maybe," Ikko chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, "It takes a lot out of you. I don't know how Ruby manages it."

"She's had a lot longer to practise than you have. Plus, she's full-blooded."

"Mm. She still won't tell me what we're doing over the summer. The girls are nagging."

"Pass your exams, then we'll tell you."

"That's what I told them!" he sighed, "Not that they cared. I don't think I've seen either of them studying."

"I haven't seen you studying, either."

"I—" he stumbled. A reflexive panic twisted in the pit of his stomach, all too common in students before exams. "Fair point. Speaking of… what about your exam?"

The effect was instantaneous. Mizore's fidgeting froze. Her gaze flicked towards him, as if accusing him of some crime. Her shoulders slumped, and she held up a sealed envelope. "Your results?"

She nodded, once. "I haven't checked them yet."

"Why not?"

"Why do you think?"

"Scared?"

Her cheeks puffed. "When you put it like that, it sounds silly."

"Isn't it?"

"Hey!"

"You gonna open it here?" he asked, leaning forward.

Her grip tightened around the envelope, threatening to crumple it. "I was hoping you'd do it."

"Me?"

"It's no big deal – just open it and read the result."

"If it's no big deal, you do it!"

Mizore made a noise that Ikko could only describe as the inchoate essence of the phrase 'don't wanna'. "Have you ever failed an exam?"

She shook her head. "Not that I've taken, no. I failed a few by not showing up. You?"

"Same," Ikko huffed, "I got moved around a lot, so I missed lessons and exams."

"Your parents?"

"Their work," he clarified, "They get moved around a lot, and I get dragged along with it."

"Oh," she frowned, "Sounds rough."

Ikko shrugged. "Anyway, that's besides the point. Are you really so scared of your results?"

Mizore's gaze sank. "I need this job. The thought that I'm going to lose it just because of a slip of paper is… well. It's scary."

"You think the school doesn't know your results already?" he asked, "Surely they get a copy?"

"They're probably getting around to it. Admin's been pretty busy sourcing a replacement for Kotsubo."

"Maybe they don't want to fire two teachers in a single year?"

She laughed, hollow. "Thanks, Ikko. Reassuring."

"I'm kidding. Even if that were true, don't you think they would have called you up by now?"

"Maybe…" Mizore shifted. "I don't know. I've spent so long fretting that I can't think about anything else."

"I get that," Ikko murmured, "Alright. How about this?"

He patted the space next to him. Mizore looked up, and moved over without a word. "Let's open it together," Ikko suggested, "Like ripping off the band-aid."

"Alright." She held out the envelope, and Ikko took it. Even sitting near her, he could feel the residual anxiety radiating off her, and caused him to hesitate when he considered opening it.

"See?" Mizore chuckled, quiet, "You get it."

"Don't talk me out of it." Ikko laughed. In one hasty movement he slipped his thumb under the top flap, ripped the paper, and yanked the contents out.

They stared down at two sheets of paper. Mizore pulled the heading letter away, and leaned in to scan the more official-looking statement underneath. Ikko read through, parsing each section of marking, searching with mounting desperation for Mizore's answer.

She flopped back, sighing, just as he reached the bottom of the page. "What was the passing mark?" He asked.

"Eighty percent."

"Eighty… eighty-five!" Ikko beamed. "That's a pass!"

"Barely."

"Does it matter?" He looked back. Mizore wasn't moving, staring up at the ceiling. "You passed. It's done!"

She murmured, heaving another heavy breath. "Now I just have the rest of my job to worry about."

"At least you get to worry about that without the threat of losing it," Ikko tried to sound reassuring as he spoke, "I thought you'd be… I don't know. At least relieved."

"Me too," Mizore concurred, "Instead it's just… over."

"Better that than not."

"I suppose." Mizore thrust forward, lunging into a proper sitting position. She looked out the window. "What time is it?"

"Uh…" Ikko checked his phone. "Almost time for food, why?"

"Fancy a trip out to Preternatural Street? My treat."

"Just us?"

"Sure," Mizore shrugged, "Might as well do something to celebrate, see if that improves things."

"Alright. Meet you there?"

She was halfway through the window by the time Ikko finished his question. "Don't take too long."

Preternatural Street took on a different form when Ikko walked down it by himself. Lacking the chatter of the club, left to his own devices, his mind had more space to take in the smaller details. Students walking in pairs or small groups, reflections of his memories but different in the most minute, yet most significant ways. The scents, myriad, unfathomable, mixing in complex ways to create the unique aromas of the bustling after-school locale.

He kept his hands in his pockets, looking around for the telltale shock of blue that would tell him where to find Mizore. He lingered outside the places they'd visited before, peering through windows and trying not to look like a lurker. As he did, Ruby's lesson surfaced from the corner of his mind. As it did, as if by reflex, he felt a piece of him try and reach out to find her. He shuddered at the feeling, felt his instincts trying to close it out, but tried instead to grasp hold of it.

What felt like instinct, he thought, come become a habit. Could become a skill. Maybe he could use it to find more than just Ruby's magic. Ikko backed away from the café, tried to find a quiet spot at the corner of two stores, and began to focus. He closed his eyes, steadied his breathing as Ruby had instructed. He focussed on his magic, grasping at nothing, fingers curling in the dark, and tried to seek out something… familiar. A light. A scent. A feeling. A smile. What was identifiably Mizore's? What could he use to find her, in the chaos of the world around him?

He caught a whiff of spearmint. Smiled. A hint of cold. There it was. Now if he could just—

"What are you doing?"

Ikko yelped, struck from his reverie by the proximity of Mizore's voice. He opened to see her standing right in front of him. She smirked, her hair hidden behind a thick hoodie, and carried herself like any other student, blending in effortlessly. "N-nothing," he mumbled, "You were taking too long."

"Oh, I was taking too long?" She arched an eyebrow. "If you'd kept your eyes open, you would have seen me ages ago."

"Have you been following me?" Ikko shook his head. "Don't answer that. What d'you wanna eat?"

"Sushi."

They moved back into the flow of the street, falling easily into step with each other. Ikko eased his breathing, putting the idea away for now. Perhaps there was a way to make it easier, offering a piece of himself to Mizore, but the mere thought of that caused a discomfited shift it the seat of him.

"You going to tell me what that was?" Mizore asked, sidling a little closer. She angled herself towards him, that their voices could keep between them.

"Something Ruby and I were practising," Ikko answered, hoping to keep it vague, "Trying to use what little magic I've got to increase my perception."

"You were trying to sense me?"

"Is that stupid?"

"No! It's – that's clever, actually. You can read a lot about a monster's intent based on that."

"Worth practising, then."

"Definitely."

She led them to the only sushi bar on Preternatural Street, a narrow building with conveyor belts that moved too quickly to grab food with any sort of precision. "Your treat, right?" Ikko asked.

"Don't push it. Just 'cuz I'm keeping my job, it doesn't mean you can abuse a poor teacher's salary."

"How much do they pay you?"

"Not enough – and none of your business, anyway."

Ikko swivelled into the seat next to her, leaning forward. They could be two students, he thought. Just two students out on a date. Nothing unusual there – except everything that made that appearance a lie. "I didn't say congratulations," Ikko murmured, "Maybe that's why you're not feeling it?"

"Maybe," she replied, plucking a plate off the belt, "Would that it were so simple."

"Something else going on?"

"I thought we were celebrating? You not hungry?"

"Oh, right—" Ikko snatched the first plate he could without toppling three more. Mizore laughed. "To passing."

"And to you," Mizore nodded, "How you feeling about your exams?"

"What did you just say?"

"Alright, alright…"

After a few bites in what Ikko felt was a comfortable enough silence, he chanced a look across. Mizore poked and prodded at her food, her expression murky, distracted. He called her name, which seemed to lift it, if only for a breath. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, tone automatic. After another breath, she shook her head in apparent disbelief. "Kinda sad, really. We come out to celebrate and all we can focus on is the bad stuff."

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault." He wasn't convinced, but didn't interrupt. "I thought passing would be a great weight off my shoulders, but instead it's let me remember everything else weighing me down. Summer, Tsukune, my mother, Kotsubo's replacement…"

"Never stops, does it?"

"Not really."

Ikko reached for his phone, chewing contemplatively. He couldn't solve any of her problems, that much he knew, so instead he did what anyone with mobile data did. "Hey, check this out."

"Huh?" Mizore leaned over.

"Kia sent it during class."

"Whose?"

"Er—not yours." Mizore narrowed her eyes. "I swear!"

"Uhuh… Let's see."

It was nothing special, even by the internet's low standards – still, it had made him laugh, so sharing it was his hope to lighten the pall over their meal. A tiny smile cracked the corner of Mizore's mouth, followed by a quiet chuckle. "That's dumb."

"Not as bad as this one. Hang on…"

He showed her another. Then another. As many as it took to distract them both from the life waiting for them outside their corner of the evening. Before long, as the patrons began to sidle around the mirthful pair to leave, and their plates had piled a little too high to be considered a simple treat, they had completely forgotten about what awaited them at the changing of the seasons.