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It was three weeks after they had erased the Shinra Banshou. Saraba had returned to Fuuma shortly after things had settled down in order to straighten things out in their hidden world affairs. Hanabusa had her hands full to say the least; Tobari, Raikou, and Yukimi were all laid up, but luckily Juuji, Gau, Raimei, and Kazuho were all there to lend a hand, though it did make for some cramped living quarters. Miharu had been staying with his grandmother, of course, drained from the emotional and physical trama of that night. They all healed fairly quickly though, their bodies strong from training and living in the Nabari world, the future of which seemed uncertain.
The two main players, Hattori and Kotarou, were now dead. Already, in those short weeks following the Shinra Banshou’s destruction, the Nabari world had fallen into chaos. That was part of the reason they were holding the feast now, the goodbye party, so that Raikou and Raimei could begin to rebuild the Shimizu clan and perform their duties once again, along with Gau, of course. Kazuho had been away from her husband and their shop for long enough, and Yukimi needed to get back to work, having told his employer that he’d been in a second traffic accident. He was already being called all sorts of funny names and told that he was unlucky, all in good fun mostly, though none of them would be riding in the same car as him any time soon. Or ever.
Tobari had already gotten his job back at the Banten Middle School, though it had been difficult since the vice principle wasn’t exactly fond of him to begin with, let alone after he’d gone missing for months. Hanabusa was glad to see them all well again, and already had plans to begin a new excavation soon, and Juuji would be rejoining Saraba to help rebuild Fuuma from the ground up. Still, though life was now moving on, Miharu couldn’t seem to bring himself to think about returning to Banten Middle School. He sat next to Yukimi, who still wasn’t drinking, with Yoi in his lap, and sighed heavily.
“What is it, Your Highness?” Yukimi said, grinning at him. In the aftermath of Miharu becoming the Nabari No Ou, Yukimi had come to tease him about the title now and then, and though less so since the erasing of the Shinra Banshou.
Miharu wiggled his fingers down at Yoi, but didn’t even smile when the cat tried to hit them with his paws, “School.”
“Aren’t you ready to go back?” Yukimi asked. Miharu just shrugged. They were quiet for a bit until Yukimi said, “You know, if you’re not ready yet, you could come back with me and work as my assistant for a while. At least until you’re ready to go back to normal life on the surface world.”
“Really?” Miharu looked up at him, a small smile on his lips.
“Well, if you clear it with your grandma first, sure,” Yukimi said. “You’re always welcome at my place, Miharu.”
“Thank you, Yukimi. I’d like that very much,” Miharu said, and returned his attention to Yoi.
The next day, everyone else had already left by the time Yukimi, Kazuho, and Miharu were ready to go. Kazuho’s husband had driven down to pick them up, and they all crammed their stuff into the tiny car. Hanabusa gave Miharu a hug, saying, “You’re always welcome here.”
Miharu smiled, “I know.”
“What about me, hmmm?” Yukimi said. Hanabusa laughed.
Before Tobari could begin to yell at Yukimi in a jealous rage, Miharu grabbed his hand, “Thank you for everything, sensei.”
Tobari put his free hand on Miharu’s shoulder. He seemed to struggle with words, his eyes tearing, before he finally choked out, “Don’t forget to smile, Miharu.”
Smiling wider than ever, not sure what to say, Miharu backed away towards the car. He climbed in and waved through the window.
Kazuho yelled out the passenger window, “Come on, Nii-san!”
Yukimi said farewell to Tobari and Hanabusa, then climbed into the backseat with Miharu, who had Yoi curled up in his lap. He purred softly as he slept.
When Kazuho and her husband dropped them off at Yukimi’s apartment, Miharu used his little devil powers to get Yukimi to carry most of his stuff, despite the man only having one arm. Miharu carried Yoi in one arm and a bag in his other hand. They made their way up, and Miharu tried to keep from snickering as Yukimi struggled to hold everything and get the keys. Finally, Miharu took them and unlocked the door. Opening it, he was surprised to see the lights on.
The two of them stood there a moment, staring in at the lit room. There was a blanket bunched in a u-shape by the sliding glass door, as though someone had let it slide from their shoulders and stay just as it landed. Miharu dropped the bag, and the noise of it hitting the floor – and something inside shattering – seemed to snap Yukimi out of his daze, but Miharu still stared at the blanket.
“Miharu?” Yukimi said.
Miharu jumped, but his gaze didn’t waver, “Lemonade.”
“Huh?” Yukimi said. He sniffed and realized that the apartment did smell like lemonade.
It was then that they heard footsteps coming out of the kitchen. The two of them froze, and Yukimi heard Miharu draw in a sharp breath. None of them moved, but the three of them stared at each other. There were a million things Yukimi wanted to say, and there was just one thing Miharu wanted to do, but they couldn’t seem to make their bodies work. Finally, Yoi, having become irritable from being held around the stomach for so long, jumped out of Miharu’s arms. The cat strolled across the room, and they all watched it, as though that tiny animal held their fates.
Finally, it came to a stop before feet in black socks. It sniffed them for a moment, then began to rub against the black-clad legs attached to them. A hand reached down and rubbed the cat’s back, making it arch.
“Yoi-” Miharu started, but his voice caught. With a chuckle, Yukimi dropped everything he was holding into one big heap on the floor, and reaching out with his one hand, he pushed Miharu through the doorway.
Miharu stumbled over the bag he had dropped. His legs were much longer now, having gone through a growth spurt, and he was still getting used to them, and was oftentimes clumsy. This was such a time. He didn’t so much walk through the doorway as fall through it. However, he didn’t hit the floor face first like he had expected. Instead, he was caught, his face pressed into a warm body, one that smelled familiar and felt solid.
It was real.
With that realization, he started to cry big, gulping sobs, and wrapped his thin arms around that larger body, feeling arms encircle him in return. He heard Yukimi say, “Hey.” The body holding him made no reply, but Miharu could feel that smile. He knew it even when he couldn’t see it, because he had been dreaming about it for the past three weeks.
He heard Yukimi move past them, saying, “I’m going to make more lemonade. Come on, Yoi. You must be hungry.”
As the man moved around in the kitchen, the clanking of dishes and his curses at having to do everything one-handed faded into the background, until everything was silent except for the pounding of Miharu’s heart. It took him a moment to realize that there was another heart, beating in time with his, quieter, but strong and constant.
It pained him to pull back, but he did and looked up at the his face. There were the same blue eyes, and black hair, though it was a bit shaggier and longer now. His smile was the same as the last time he’d seen it, right before the Shinra Banshou had been erased. Tears stung his eyes again, and trickled down his cheeks, “How?”
A hand caressed his cheek, “It was you, Miharu.”
“The Shinra Banshou?”
The shoulder under his hand shrugged, making him remember that he had hands. He ran them over firm shoulders now, covered in soft cloth, but not as soft as the skin of the neck that his fingers grazed over, until his palm finally came to rest on a warm cheek. His voice was barely a whisper, as though saying his name would make him disappear, “Yoite.”
“Hello,” Yoite said, running his thumb softly over Miharu’s cheek. They were quiet for a while, looking at each other, until Yoite said, “Kira’s gone.”
Miharu smiled a little, though it was somewhat sad, but he said, “Good. So is the Shinra Banshou.”
Yoite smiled back, “Good.”
“I’m leaving the Nabari world.”
There was a long pause, in which the only sounds were those of Yukimi in the kitchen. Those seemed quiet compared to the deafening sound of Yoite swallowing around the lump in his throat, “Where will you go?”
Miharu smiled softly and tucked a lock of hair behind Yoite’s ear, “I was thinking I might so see Tsukasa, and see Hanabusa on an excavation, and maybe stop by Alya and Fuuma and the new Shimizu house to say hi to everyone. That is, only if Yukimi will give me a break from being his assistant and you want to go with me.”
“You want me to go with you?” Yoite blushed slightly.
Miharu raised both his hands to Yoite’s face, framing it, his fingers maybe a bit too rough, but neither cared, “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Again, Yoite smiled at him, and Miharu’s heart leapt and beat a little fast not for the first time. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, playing on his fight-or-flight instincts, creating a desire for action. It had been building up from the first moment Yoite had walked into the room, their eyes holding one another. He couldn’t contain it any longer, he needed relief from this feeling or it would build up, and he would pop like a balloon filled with too much air.
Sliding his hand back till his fingers became tangled in hair, gripping the soft locks in a tight grasp, Miharu yanked Yoite forward until they just barely parted, breathing each other. He hesitated, his heart thundering in his ears, his mind telling him there was no way this was real. It was telling him he was asleep in the car, having a dream, and any moment they’d go over a bump and he’d startle awake, Yoi nestled in his lap as they rolled on. Perhaps Yoite knew what he was thinking. Despite what Hattori had said, the two of them were very alike, and it was quite likely that Yoite knew what was in Miharu’s mind.
Yoite took a shuddering breath, and Miharu was reminded of how shy he was, about how he hadn’t wanted to undress in front of him because he was embarrassed. Suddenly disgusted with himself for overstepping and putting Yoite in this awkward position, Miharu started to pulled back, but Yoite’s grip on him was strong, and he didn’t get far. He could hear Yoite taking calming breaths, could feel his hands sliding down his body until they came to the hollow at his lower back, could see the dusting of red on his cheeks and smell the lemon on his breath.
“It’s okay, Miharu,” Yoite whispered.
Miharu released his grip on Yoite’s hair and instead slid his arms around his neck, bringing them close together again, until he could just barely slide his lips over Yoite’s. It was brief, but searing, making both their lips tingle. Miharu pulled back, trying to be sensitive to Yoite’s feelings, not wanting to push, but within nanoseconds he felt lips on his again. His eyes fluttered, almost opening in shock, but he squeezed them shut, determined to feel this.
It was obvious that Yoite hadn’t done this before, and even more obvious that Miharu hadn’t either. They were clumsy, hands gripping too tight, mouths pressing too hard one moment and not enough the next. Miharu could taste the lemon now though, and that was enough for him. He’d never been drunk before, but between the lack of oxygen, the lemon, and the happy buzzing in his brains as endorphins rushed from neuron to neuron, he was pretty sure this was sort of what it felt like.
“Hey!” They were both startled and pulled apart quickly, bumping heads, as Yukimi entered the room. The man sat down three mugs in an empty area of the otherwise messy floor, “It’s about time and all that, but you didn’t have to go and forget all about me!”
Miharu made a hurt face and called up some tears, which wasn’t hard in his current tumultuous emotional state, “Are you trying to make a pass at me, Yukimi?”
“Wha? Hey, don’t start that, you know I’m not!” Yukimi picked up his mug and looked away from them, pouting despite his age. Yoite smiled at Miharu and walked over to where the man sat, picking up the remaining two mugs. He handed one to Miharu and they both sat down.
Yoite leaned towards Yukimi until he looked at him, “It’s good to see you, Yukimi.”
“It’s even better to see you,” Yukimi said, grinning. “Welcome home.”
“You mean, I can stay here?” Yoite asked.
“Well, you didn’t bother waiting to ask my permission, did you? There’s got to be weeks’ worth of dishes in there!”
“I’ve been back three weeks,” Yoite said.
“I figured,” Yukimi said, looking at Miharu. “I thought you didn’t use the secret art?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “It was the Fairy.”
“Hm,” Yukimi said. “Well, I wish I could see her again.”
“Why?” Miharu asked.
“To thank her.”
After getting caught up on what had happened to Yoite (being revived in the apartment by the secret art and basically living off of condiments since that was all that was left in the fridge), Yukimi had suggested they celebrate, to which Miharu and Yoite had both cheered, “Takeout!”
So they ate takeout, and then Yoite and Miharu laid down on the floor, facing each other and “fell asleep.” They could hear Yukimi moving around, cleaning up dozens of takeout boxes, and finally felt him throw the blanket Yoite had been using over them. As he walked out of the room, turning off the light, he called, “Don’t stay up too late! Tomorrow we’ll have to go find some new furniture so you guys have a place to sleep… maybe a futon?”
Miharu opened his eyes a crack to see Yoite staring at him, smiling. He smiled back, and suddenly he was crying again. Yoite sat up and put a hand on his cheek, wiping away tears, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m just so…” He choked before he could finish. Sitting up, he let Yoite hold him while he cried, soaking the front of his nightshirt. Finally, when he was down to sniffles, he mumbled into Yoite’s chest, “I love you.”
Yoite jolted and pushed him back slowly, hands on his shoulders, trying to catch his eye. When Miharu wouldn’t look at him, he put a hand under his chin and lifted his face until he relented, green eyes meeting blue ones. Yoite smiled at him, “I love you, Miharu Rokujou.” His voice was so soft, it was like he was mumbling, and his whole face was red, but Miharu heard him.
They both stared, red-faced and smiling at each other, until they broke out laughing. After a while, still chuckling, they fell side-by-side onto the floor. Moments passed, and Miharu was drifting off to sleep when he felt Yoite’s hand grasp his own. He twined their fingers, leaning his head against Yoite’s shoulder. Opening his eyes, he found Yoite still staring at him.
“Can we…” Yoite hesitated. “Can we do that again?”
Miharu just smiled and lifted his upper body off the floor until he was supporting himself on his elbow, leaning over Yoite. He lowered himself down till they were nearly touching, and when he blinked, his lashes brushed against Yoite’s skin, making him shudder. Their kisses were slower this time, tentative, testing the waters. Miharu didn’t pull back as long as Yoite didn’t, even when his arm began to hurt. Instead, he lifted his other arm and began to run his hand along Yoite’s chest and stomach. At first Yoite froze up, and so did Miharu, but after a moment Yoite relaxed again, so Miharu continued, moving down to the flat plane of his stomach, then back up to his collarbone.
To his surprise, Miharu felt a hand against his thigh, the touch not really a caress, or sexual in any way, but just a touch, a gentle pressure. He pulled back, and Yoite’s hand started to move away, panic on his face, but Miharu grabbed his wrist, “It’s okay,” he whispered.
Yoite put his hand back, then looked down the lengths of their bodies, “You’ve grown.”
Miharu shrugged, “Only a little. You’re still taller.”
“Does that make me the ‘man?’” Yoite said, not meeting his gaze.
With a smile, Miharu kissed his cheek, “It makes you Yoite.”
“But… you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” Miharu said. All of a sudden his arm gave and he fell down onto Yoite’s chest. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Yoite placed an arm around him, maneuvering them until Miharu was lying partially on top of him, their legs intertwined and Miharu’s head on his shoulder. As he started to fall asleep, Miharu put his mouth to Yoite’s ear, “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.”
Grabbing his hand, Yoite laced their fingers, placing them on his chest, over his heart, “I promise.”