7: FIRST LOVE/LATE SPRING

[2018, APRIL 25]

10 a.m.

Kokonoi Hajime was not a man to give up so easily, and Miyako both despised and admired that in him.

Sitting in the vast armchair across her desk, one leg resting over the other, Kokonoi stared at Miyako in some sort of silent dare. She had made it clear she wasn't going to open her mouth until he did. She intended on making that interaction—of which she had not consented to herself—a challenge for him, because she knew, if there was something Kokonoi liked more than doing his business, it was a damn good challenge.

Unfortunately for him, Miyako was not willing to let him win this time. Not until he told her exactly what she wanted to know.

"So?" he dragged the question, tangled fingers sitting over his crossed knees. The perfect image of a man who was sure of himself.

Miyako narrowed her eyes, fingers ceasing to type away at her keyboard.

Kokonoi, as much as he was cordial with her, had a certain fierceness that allowed him to act with far more sass than the rest of his colleagues. Yet, unlike Sanzu, who said everything as he pleased without thinking of the repercussions, or Manjiro, who knew her far too well and too intimately to waste time on formalities, Kokonoi was far more astute as to how he interacted with her. He chose the right moments, carefully looking for the right words and the right way to say them. He thought of the repercussions, he thought of how they weren't as close as Manjiro and her were—or had once been. He delivered his words carefully, only giving as much as he knew he could take in return.

Truly the mind of a businessman.

Miyako knew what had been brewing inside of Kokonoi's head from the very moment he had stepped into her office, and yet some part of her wished he would think back on the time she hadn't attempted to mention it in the past month or so and come to the conclusion that she didn't want to talk about it in the first place.

"'So', what?" she asked in return, sensing Kokonoi's annoyance rising with every second that passed. "Is there something you wish to discuss with me? Some business matters, perhaps?"

Kokonoi let out a small grunt. "Are you going to ignore the issue at hand, boss?"

Miyako raised her head to look at him. "Ignore what issue, exactly?" she asked with a certain amusement.

For all she could say about Kokonoi Hajime, calling him a coward would be a total disservice to his character. He amused her much more than anyone else in Bonten; much more than Haruchiyo, who managed to do so from time to time. Much more than Ran or Rindo, who insisted on calling her at the most inopportune moments, or Mochi, whose stone-cold expression didn't match his words most of the time. Kokonoi was different. Kokonoi was smarter than all of them, and he knew what he needed and exactly how he had to act to get something. He was a businessman, a genius with numbers and negotiation. And, just like Miyako, Kokonoi had been wearing his mask since he was a child.

He straightened his back, attempting to conceal his newfound nervousness. "You haven't been answering my messages or my calls. I think I deserve the right to give you an explanation."

Miyako shook her head. "I did receive your messages. And your emails. And your letters. Sincerely, I was quite shocked you hadn't found a way to send me a telegraph as well."

"I just wanted to give you an explanation," he defended himself. "And since telegraphs are obsolete, I had to resort to good old face-to-face conversation."

"You already explained enough," she said, straining herself from sounding harsher than she had to. "No need to waste more of your, and my, precious time."

Kokonoi frowned. "Boss, please. It was a misunderstanding."

Miyako knew he wasn't going to give up. She knew him—all of them—better than they realized. She had been watching them for the past decade, and she had caught up to how the engines turned inside of their heads. What made them stutter; what made them hesitate. But also, what made them act as well. Kokonoi acted when he sensed he was in danger. Making him sloppy and nervous; making him stupid and impulsive.

"How was it a 'misunderstanding', Hajime?" she asked, calling him by his first name to push him further onto the edge of the precipice he had been sitting on for the past month. "Are you trying to insult my intelligence?"

Kokonoi uncrossed his legs with a harsh movement. His hands flew to the armrests, fingers gripping at the soft leather. He was beginning to break, Miyako could sense it.

"Not at all, ma'am," he gulped down his words.

"Then, what exactly are you trying to say?"

Kokonoi's throat bobbled as he searched for the words inside his head. Miyako leaned against the back of her chair, mimicking the seemingly relaxed position Kokonoi had displayed just a few moments ago.

When she noticed he wasn't going to respond, she asked him instead: "How long has Hayashida been doing business with you?"

He flinched. "Pardon?"

"I don't think you are hearing impaired, are you?" Her eyes watched his expression, how much he was trying to keep himself together. "How long?"

"A few years," he said, almost like a whisper.

" How long , Kokonoi?" she pressed on. She knew there was more to that. Kokonoi never did anything without counting exact numbers. He had multiple lists, all of which included a vast array of numbers no one could decipher but him.

"Five years," he finally said, sweat dripping down his delicate skin. "But it was very sporadic. We never contacted each other outside of business matters."

"Have you told him anything?"

That question came to be more of a surprise to him than the previous ones. Kokonoi straightened his posture, returning to his poised self.

"You don't trust me?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed into each other. He almost sounded insulted as he spoke.

"I do," she confessed. "That's why I'm asking."

He shook his head, eyes glued to hers."No. Nothing at all."

"Good." She nodded once. "Have you resolved things with Ran?"

Miyako had heard through Kakucho that Kokonoi and Ran had gotten into a brawl over the incident. Kokonoi blamed Ran, and Ran told Kokonoi to be a man and grow some balls. The situation got so bad they resorted to calling Mochi, who had been out with his family that day. When he arrived, Mochi beat them up so badly that they just lay on the ground for ten minutes. Both for disturbing his family time and for being such immature brats. When she asked Kakucho as to why she hadn't been contacted, he said that, ultimately, they knew involving her would be far worse than getting their asses kicked by Mochi for a couple of minutes.

"Yes." Kokonoi massaged his wrist, pushing and pulling at the expensive bracelet that rested on it. "We are back to business, as usual."

Miyako forced a chuckle down her throat. "I hope it stays that way."

"Yes, boss. Me too."

Kokonoi seemed lost in thought for a moment as if he was searching for the right words again. His endless mind-game with himself: A game he knew he could never win, but which he kept on playing because he didn't know any better than that. Miyako knew that game all too well.

"Boss, Hayashida cut all ties with me a few months ago. Was that your doing?"

Miyako focused her eyes on the document in front of her, but the words blurred into each other, forming a senseless blob on the screen. They had cut ties, which means Haruki had gotten Miyako's massage the day she visited him. The mysterious informant was still around, lurking somewhere and showing their presence from time to time, but they were more careful now. Almost paranoid, avoiding all the spots they had gone to prior to that. Miyako knew whoever was behind this whole idea was damn good at hiding. She hoped she was wrong as to who she thought it was.

"Focus on your business, Kokonoi, and stay out of trouble," she advised. "You are a praised member of our organization, always diligent in your duties. Don't let yourself get sidetracked now."

He got up from his seat and bowed. "Yes, boss," he managed to say before the door to the office flew open, nearly knocking down a plant.

"Ever heard of knocking, Mikey?"

Manjiro stood at the entrance, staring at Kokonoi. His oversized t-shirt clung to his stomach as if he had been running a marathon before he opened the door. His ankles were dirty with motor oil, and Miyako instantly knew what he had been doing.

"You were just leaving, weren't you?" he said, pushing himself to walk further into the office.

"What if I wasn't—"

"He was," she interrupted. The least she wanted was for there to be a fight in her office. "Thank you so much, Kokonoi. Make sure to keep me posted on your work."

If he hadn't liked how she had dismissed him, he hadn't shown any inclination toward it.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, bowing his head to her.

Manjiro gave Kokonoi a smug look as he made his way toward the exit. "See?"

Kokonoi scoffed. He leaned toward Manjiro and whispered something in his ear, and, by the way, Manjiro's body tensed up, couldn't have been good. He stopped at the entrance, giving Miyako a bow before closing the door behind him. Graceful to the very end.

Miyako tilted her head. "What was that?"

He shrugged, stuffing his hands inside his pockets. "He's just being annoying, as always."

Miyako nodded, but she knew there was more to that comment.

"So, what do you need? You rarely come to my office," she noted. Manjiro rarely talked to her about work as it was, let alone come to her office unannounced. Sometimes she caught herself wishing he would do it more often, flinging herself mentally right afterward.

"Just wanted to see you."

He sat down where Kokonoi had been, raising his legs to his chest.

"What do you need from me?" she insisted. She had been willing to play the cat-and-mouse game with Kokonoi, but she wasn't going to give Manjiro the same effort. She knew him better than that, and she knew he was there for a reason.

Miyako watched his oil-stained hands. He must have been fidgeting with his bike, which sent a panicked shock down her spine. She would have to go to the garage the first opportunity she had and make sure he hadn't hurt it in any way. She could still recall the lectures she used to give him and Ken on how to properly handle a bike, but they hadn't heard a single thing.

"Maya, can I tell you something?"

And there it was. What she was waiting for.

"Are you in love with Kokonoi?"

Manjiro noded. "Yes–Fuck no!" He caught himself before he could go on, twitching his face at her question. "It's a serious matter."

"What is it?" she asked, closing the lid of her laptop with a light thud.

"It's about Takemitchy."

Takemichi? Nahoya had mentioned him as well when she had visited. Somehow, this man seemed to be everywhere.

Manjiro sensed her confusion. "Remember what I told you about him all those years ago?"

"You'll have to refresh my memory, Manjiro." She smiled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm good, but not that good."

Manjiro's eyes drifted from hers "I told you how special he is."

Miyako nearly chuckled. So it's about that.

"Yes, yes, I remember."

"Well, he is far more special than I allowed you to know."

"Oh, so it's Takemichi who you are in love with. I should have known." She nodded, her previous smile only growing as she spoke. The thought of Manjiro being in love with Takemichi this whole time was amusing, but it wouldn't have been surprising since they had been so close back in the day.

Manjiro didn't seem to be as amused as her. Instead, he seemed agitated. Almost nervous. "Maya, I mean it."

"What do you mean?"

He looked at her for a good while, and Miyako thought he was going to get up and leave at any moment.

"Takemichi has an ability," he said. His voice sounded unsure.

Miyako frowned at that. "Ability? What do you mean by 'ability'?"

"He can–" He stopped in his tracks, glancing out of the window behind her. His black eyes reflected the sky outside, and Miyako could swear she saw a flash pass through them. "Never mind."

"What?" she asked, both confused and frustrated.

"It doesn't matter. Forget I ever came here."

He got up in a hurry. His walk was far more nervous than when he had first walked into the office. His steps were ensured; his balance was off.

"Manjiro, wait!" She called for him, and he stopped right before he placed his hand on the doorknob. "What about Takemichi?"

He stood there, not looking at her. His shoulders dropped, and she realized they had been tense this whole time.

"He has a fire to him, Maya," he began to explain slowly. "He's not as fragile as he looks."

"What is this about, Manjiro?" she asked. Why did he mention Takemichi all of a sudden? What was so important about him that he had come to her office just to tell her? Why was he backing away all of a sudden?

Yet, he didn't answer. He just stood by the door, back turned to her, shoulders shaking slightly.

"Do you know something about him that I might need to know?" she asked again, choosing her words carefully. "Did Takemichi do something he shouldn't have?"

Manjiro looked back at her, flashing his red-rimmed eyes. "No. Nothing at all," he said before opening the door and closing it behind him.

[2018, APRIL 28]

8 p.m.

"Is it worth it?"

After the sun had shone its last rays of light behind the mountains, Miyako had closed her curtains and lay in her bed waiting for sleep to come. But, as always, it was a battle she would lose. No matter how engulfed in the darkness she was, her brain seemed to find a way of keeping her awake, as if it was keen on making her relive all of the horrible things she was desperate to forget.

"Maya, is it worth it?" his familiar voice pressed on, louder this time, reverberating through her mind and traveling down her nervous system like a shock wave.

He could have either been standing right next to her and three feet away, all at the same time, but with her eyes closed Miyako could never tell for certain. Although she had grown accustomed to it, she hated to feel them around like that. It had never failed to mess with her mind, and, if she didn't know better, she would fall into the same pit of delusion she knew all too well.

It had been hard in the beginning—much harder than it was now—but the years had made her realize nothing they could do would ever hurt her, no matter how real they seemed. They weren't real. They weren't there. Those were the two principles Miyako had lived with for the past fifteen years, but they sometimes slipped from her mind and she would find herself stuck at the bottom of the well, right beside a smaller version of herself, shaking and scared. She would hug little Miyako and assure her everything would be okay, even when she knew it was a lie.

Miyako's mind was far more gone than she would like to admit, but at least she was safe, or as safe as she could get. Living behind the four walls of her mansion, protected by the mask that was Bonten, Miyako should have no reason to fear anything. Unless she was talking about him…Which she didn't like to think about in the first place. The larger the distance between them, the easier it was for her to function, and, as long as she strayed away from danger, he had no reason to show himself.

This was her train of thought up until her old friends decided they had had enough of their peaceful, perfect lives.

"Maya," Shinichiro called for her again and she felt the annoyance rise in her.

"Shin, I'm trying to sleep. Go away," she demanded, but she knew he wouldn't oblige. He seldom did, which had caused some problems in the past.

His hand brushed against her arm; a touch so soft and gentle it almost felt real. Her skin prickled up with the sensation, and she had to fight the need to have him touch her so delicately again.

"I'm worried," he whispered close to her ear. "This whole situation is killing you."

She scoffed. "I still feel very much alive." Unfortunately. "Besides, didn't you say you were glad I was doing it?"

There was silence. Miyako opened her eyes to take a peek and noticed him standing at the foot of the bed, where he had been the last time she had closed her eyes. She hated how easy it was for him to play with her perception, even though he had never done it to harm her, unlike some of them.

"I am." His voice was weak, distant.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Then why this now? Why in the middle of the night?"

Silence engulfed the room again. Miyako knew what he wanted, what he feared. Of course she did, since his worries were hers after all. He hadn't known peace for the past month and made sure Miyako stood as far away from it as possible as well. Sometimes, he got so loud she had a terrible migraine for days on end, adding to the already pulsating headache from the issue she had with Toman.

"It's barely even eight thirty," he said with a faint smile. "I can't believe you're already going to sleep. You have truly turned into a bitter old woman, Maya."

She shifted in her bed, turning the other way. "You are right. It's way too late for you to be pissing a bitter old woman off."

Shinichiro chuckled, and Miyako felt her heart tugging at the strings.

She hated that laugh.

She hated that voice.

She hated that he wasn't real.

She hated that he wasn't there.

She hated everything about him.

"Mikey must be coming soon."

Miyako didn't know how to respond, but she knew he was right. It wouldn't be long until Manjiro came down from his alcohol high, tumbling down the hallway to invade her room.

Since she had caught her members having some sort of brawl in the middle of the night, disturbing her yet-to-come sleep, Manjiro hadn't shown up for a week straight. Matter of fact, none of them had shown their faces for a few days, and if they did show up they wouldn't stay for longer than they had to. Even when having her theories as to why, Miyako liked to believe the men were too ashamed to face her, Manjiro included. Or at least she thought so until that morning. Even the ever-so-diligent Kakucho hadn't been able to look her in the eyes for the first two days after the incident.

Although she hadn't caught the conversation from the beginning, she had a good idea of what might have set Manjiro off. How they talked about her when she wasn't around had never been an issue to Miyako. She was aware it was the same with every woman they came across, and, no matter the words they used to describe her, Miyako knew their words didn't go far from what they were: words. After all, they were men above anything else, and if there was one thing that Miyako had learned with all of her years of living was that men would be pigs until the end of time. Even then, she trusted them to know better and respect her when she was around, and they hadn't failed to do so so far. That was all that mattered to her.

On the day of the fight, Manjiro had tried to call for her in the hallway, and Miyako had felt tempted to turn around and walk toward him. Even after all of those years of giving him the cold shoulder, Manjiro had never stopped defending her with all of his might. She couldn't say she didn't feel guilty about her behavior, but she didn't know a better way to deal with her feelings for him, whatever those were. She couldn't quite figure them out herself. All she knew was that the years hadn't treated them right, and the more time Manjiro and she spent together, the deeper into the abyss they fell.

"Be gentle with him, Maya."

Miyako flinched. She had forgotten Shinichiro was still in the room, causing his voice to startle her. He had been listening to her thoughts, a habit he hadn't left behind, no matter how against it she had been.

"You should get going, Shin," she whispered, not sure why she felt the need to.

"Just a few more minutes."

Miyako didn't need to look at him to know he was frowning. He was stalling, but she wasn't sure for what exactly.

"Do you miss him?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. It was a stupid question, after all, but Shinichiro was used to her many dumb questions.

Again, there was no need to look at him to know he was smiling at her—A sad, sort of smile. She didn't like those smiles, but those were the ones he gave her the most.

"I do," he whispered.

He didn't need to say anything else. She knew what he had meant.

"You miss him too, don't you?"

Yes, she thought. But, "Go away, Shin," slipped through her lips instead.

Miyako might have some dumb questions from time to time, but Shinichiro had just asked the dumbest so far.

Tears were threatening to make their way out of her closed eyes as she felt Shinichiro's figure disappear into the depths of her mind. She fought the urge to call him back, knowing she would regret it afterward.

In times like those, Miyako wished he would stay for just a little longer, so she wouldn't have to feel so alone. If only for a few seconds.

12 a.m.

Just like Shin had said, Manjiro had shown up at around ten-thirty, adjusted himself in the armchair that might as well be his by then, and covered himself with his old blanket.

Miyako shook her head. How can he sleep like that? she thought.

She had watched Manjiro for an hour or so after he had fallen asleep, still not able to catch any herself.

Right after his mother's death, Manjiro had shown strong signs of insomnia at a young age. He would often stay awake all night, only able to fall asleep once the sun was up. At the time, Miyako had wondered if he had any nightmares that prevented him from falling asleep, much like her. She had thought of asking him about it but held herself back each opportunity she had, afraid Manjiro would snap at her.

After one particular sleepover at his house, Miyako woke up to Manjiro crying in the corner of his room. It was late, far too late for him to be awake, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, Miyako watched as Manjiro's small figure rocked back and forth in the corner of the room, head resting on top of his knees. All Miyako could hear in the darkness—between terrible gasps and sobs—was the word 'mommy', repeated over and over again. At first, Miyako stayed in his bed, watching Manjiro's meltdown, but after she gained the courage to do so, she wrapped her arms around his trembling body and pulled him closer to her. His cries subsided little by little, and Miyako realized he had fallen asleep once his head was resting against her chest. Since then, whenever he wanted to get a proper sleep, he would always invade Miyako's room and nest himself against her, or call her for a sleepover instead. Either way, Manjiro had to be sleeping next to her, or else he would be grumpy the whole day.

"You're warm, Maya," he had confessed after she had asked him why he did it. "You're warm and you make me forget."

Old habits die hard, she thought as Manjiro's chest rose up and down, lips parted ever-so-slightly, and for a split second Miyako wondered if Manjiro missed her warmth.

"Manjiro," she caught herself calling out for him.

What was she doing?

Truth was, Miyako had found comfort in sleeping next to Manjiro as well. His warm, soft breathing and occasional mumbled words had become part of her sleep schedule when they were kids. Oftentimes, Miyako's mom would find the two of them cuddled up in Miyako's bed early in the morning before she left for work. Her mom had once confessed to them that she thought Manjiro was a burglar the first time he had caught him in her daughter's room. Miyako had laughed so hard at the revelation she shed tears, which made little Manjiro's peachy cheeks burn hot red with embarrassment.

Their nightly routine continued up until Miyako began to date Kazutora. She had asked him why he had stopped, and 'out of respect,' had been his explanation. Miyako had appreciated his gesture at the time, blind to how much it had truly hurt him.

If she tried, she could remember thinking Kazutora was as warm as Manjiro, yet softer somehow.

Sleeping next to her boyfriend was different than sleeping next to her best friend. She didn't have the urge to touch Manjiro like she wanted to touch Kazutora. None of the emotions she felt when he enveloped her in a tight hug, pressing his body closer to hers, were the same as when she slept with her friend. None of the little caresses, hushed whispers, and soft kisses were present with Manjiro. Not like she wanted them to be, either. It was different and she liked it that way.

She missed sleeping next to Kazutora. She missed his smell and his soft breathing. She missed the gentle touches and the shy gropes he would leave all over her body as they explored each other in the innocence of their youth. She missed the held-back laughter whenever one of them told a dumb joke late at night, and how he pressed the palm of his hand against her mouth to hush her, making her head spin a hundred miles an hour.

She missed him. She missed him so fucking much, it hurt.

Her eyes rested on Manjiro's peaceful, sleeping figure. "Manjiro," she called again, louder this time so he could hear.

With a few blinks, he opened his eyes, looking around the dark room. She watched him as he blinked a few more times before turning his eyes toward her. They were met at that impasse for a moment, staring at each other, without moving a single muscle.

Miyako thought about what she wanted to do. If that was a boundary she was willing to break, after all. But, when she laid eyes upon Manjiro's confused expression, she was sure she wouldn't mind.

She smiled at him in the darkness.

His eyes widened. "Maya!" He shot up from the armchair, making his blanket fall to the ground. "Fuck! I'll leave, let me just—"

Miyako raised her eyebrows as he knelt and began to grope around the floor to find his fallen blanket. At that moment, he reminded her so much of his younger self she had to contain a laugh that threatened to leave her throat.

"Manjiro…"

"I know, I know. Let me just—I'll leave, don't worry." He waved at her with one hand, while the other continued to grope around the floor.

"No." Miyako's body trembled as she spoke. "Don't go."

He shot his head up to look at her, blanket in his hand. "What?"

Miyako waited for him to realize what she had meant, and, if he did, he didn't make any mention of it. Instead, he blinked at her, gripping the blanket harder than before.

"Come here. Get in," she said, scooching over so he could lay next to her.

Manjiro pushed himself to stand. "Maya, are you sure?" He shook his head. "Is this some sort of dream, or—?"

She scoffed. "My back hurts just from watching you sleep in that armchair every night. Get in."

He hesitated at first, and Miyako wondered if she had fucked everything up more than it already was. She hadn't asked him to sleep next to her since they were fifteen, and Manjiro hadn't tried to do so either. It had been an unspoken rule they set once they began to cohabit under the same roof. They would get a separate room and none of them would invade the other person's privacy. Of course, Miyako had been the one to follow the rule, never breaking it, while Manjiro would always come to find excuses to use something from her room or simply be in it.

"I can still leave if you want," he whispered as he approached the side of the bed. From the way he was moving, Miyako could tell he was apprehensive about what was coming next.

Was he that scared of her?

Curse her and everything she had done to make him feel that way.

She shook her head. She had made up her mind the moment she had parted the covers.

Manjiro nodded but stood still for a few more seconds before making his way into the bed. His body made a slight dent in the mattress next to her. It was such an alien sensation Miyako couldn't help but feel anxious as Manjiro adjusted his body next to hers, far enough to not make it uncomfortable for the two of them, but somehow making it ten times worse than it would have been if they were laying closer together.

And then there was silence.

She laid her head back on her pillow, eyes staring at the shadowed ceiling above them, and wondered what in the actual fuck she had been thinking.

"This is not awkward at all," Manjiro mumbled, which caused a loud chuckle to escape from Miyako's lips. She slapped her mouth, choking back the laughter.

Manjiro turned his head to look at her and Miyako did the same.

For the first time in a while, she was able to see him. Shrouded in darkness, lying next to her, wasn't Sano Manjiro, her colleague, but Mikey, her best friend. The person that hadn't left her side for more than two decades. The person that had fought for her harder than anyone else ever had. He seemed tired, weaker than the last time she had seen him—truly seen him—whenever that had been.

Staring into Mikey's dark eyes, she realized that maybe Shinichiro was right after all…Maybe she just needed to be more gentle with him and envelop him in her arms like she did eighteen years ago.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

Miyako smiled, turning her head to the ceiling again. "Are you afraid I'll bite you in the middle of the night?"

"What?"

She looked back at him, staring into his now wide eyes.

"Since when are you this shy around me?" she asked him and Manjiro took a moment to understand what she had meant.

He cleared his throat. "You sure?"

When she nodded, she felt his legs move beneath the covers as he turned his body toward her.

Her heart skipped a beat with each inch he pulled closer to her.

"Quick before I change my mind." She wrapped her hand around his arm to make the process quicker, or else she could have sworn she would have a heart attack.

He scooched closer to her, wrapping his arm around her waist from the momentum. Her body tensed and her skin prickled up. His skin was colder than she had expected, perhaps a product of the thin blanket he was using as a cover.

Manjiro removed his arm as soon as he placed it around her, adjusting himself so he wouldn't touch her.

Miyako's eyes didn't diverge from the ceiling. Nobody had touched her like that in more than a decade, let alone him, but she wanted back the feeling of his skin against hers. She wanted his arm wrapping around her tightly, making the same silent promises he made in his youth; promises of love and protection.

Love …She wanted that back in her life more than anything else.

"Come closer," she whispered to him, and he obliged.

He was shaking, just like her, and for a moment she felt like a dumb teenager again. The memory of the first time she had slept next to Kazutora sprang to her mind, making it uncanny how similar the emotions had been. How anxious she was. How much her head was spinning.

Her heart clenched. Maybe it was the same, and she had been trying to ignore it for years.

"Are you sure you won't bite me in my sleep?" He teased, sending chills down her spine from how close he had gotten.

She kicked him under the covers. "If you keep talking, I might as well."

He chuckled and pushed her closer to him, wrapping his legs around hers, and laid his head against her shoulder like he used to as a kid.

"What did you want to tell me about Takemichi?" She whispered in the dark, hoping their physical closeness would somehow open Manjiro's heart to tell her. He had been acting weird since she last saw him in her office. He had been avoiding her more than he usually did. Even when Miyako had been coming back from the garage after checking out the state of his bike, she crossed paths with him, and all he did was nod, look down, and keep on walking.

For a moment she believed he had fallen asleep. All she could feel was his soft breath against her skin and how it tickled her. For a moment, in the darkness of her room, as she could think about was how much she had missed him.

"Good night, Maya," he said, voice softer than she was used to.

"Quiet, or I'll kick you out," she reprimanded, but couldn't fight the smile that formed on her lips as well. Manjiro chuckled again, the vibrations of his chest tickling her, and gave her leg a light tug.

His calm breathing against her neck tickled her at first but she paid it no mind.

With Manjiro nuzzled against her, his arm pulling her so close her bones could crack, Miyako was able to sleep in what felt like forever.