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“…Ace?”
Neon whimpers as Ace undoes the restraints, scooping her into his arms. He’s silent, under the suit. She curls into his arms.
“You found me,” she says. It’s not something she doubted. The relief is palpable on the air, she’s sure. But it was dark, and whoever took her (got the jump on her, knocked her out before she could even try to fight back) had only said they were careful and they were looking to test her.
“I did,” Ace says.
He brings her fully into the light.
“Neon!”
Neon has closed her eyes to hide from the light but she perks up at Keiwa’s voice.
“We took care of everything,” Michinaga says.
“As expected,” Ace says. “Shall we return home, then?”
“Please,” Neon whispers.
She’s set gently on her warm fluffy bed. The walk back had been cold, even curled against Ace with his jacket wrapped around her. She sits up slowly.
“Let’s get you out of those rags,” Michinaga says. He helps her undress, slip into a nightgown. None of them comment on the healing, stiched up cuts all over her. She cuddles against Michinaga.
Don’t touch me. Don’t let me go.
It’s always the same cycle. They’d pet her head when they finished drawing blood, or testing her fighting skills like she had a chance with no Driver and barely anything in her.
Like the world wants to tell her she’s still a thing .
Michinaga lays there awkwardly, then he holds her.
He’s so comedically awkward when trying to be gentle. It puts her more at ease than she can possibly say that he’s the one who stayed with her.
She starts to cry. Softly at first, and then she’s full-blown sobbing into his chest. Michinaga doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t moved.
She sobs until there’s nothing left in her, which goes on far too long when she already had nothing, and he just takes it.
“Feel better?” He asks.
“A little,” Neon says. “…You’re all wet.”
“Yeah,” Michinaga says. “You okay if I change?”
Neon nods.
She sits up with him, watching him.
If she blinks, she’ll be back there.
That’s not how it works, and she knows it, but trauma isn’t rational.
At least this time it’s really hers.
When she was little, she had nightmares. She’d run to find her parents, and her mother would hug her too tightly, sometime to the point of bruising, and promise her she’d never let anyone hurt her again. Her father would let her fall asleep in his office, wrapped in a deep blue blanket he kept there and cuddling her favorite stuffed animal. Either way she woke up back in her own bed and safe.
But that wasn’t even her trauma to have… It was Akari’s.
And now, she’s put it to rest, but she feels like that same girl, scared of something that isn’t hers to carry. It’s finally hers.
She curls up into a ball and is just glad she’s not alone, this time.
A home cooked meal sounds heavenly, but Neon eats in small bites.
“Delicious, isn’t it?” Ace asks.
“Ace!” Keiwa exclaims. Neon can’t help but smile.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Of course Ace’s food is delicious. He’s had years to practice.”
“I’m glad you enjoy it, Nago,” Ace says. “I made dessert, too.”
“I should pay you back for that,” Neon says. Her hands shake, chopsticks clinking on the bowl.
She sighs.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Ace says. “Valentines come early. But you don’t have to, Nago.”
Neon nods.
She goes to sleep buried against the soft silk of Ace’s top. She wakes up trying to process that she didn’t imagine it. She sits up slowly and stumbles on weak legs out of bed. Warm arms catch her when she falls.
“It doesn’t feel real,” she says.
“It won’t,” Ace says. “Not for a while.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Nago.”
“Am I weak?”
“Not one bit.”
“Am I real?”
“You are. We have a right to exist in this world.”
Neon hates that she’s still doubting, again.
But it won’t last forever. She hopes.