Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He needs a break. That’s what Bai would say.

A grunt escapes Hei’s throat when he at last pulls himself up onto the roof of a grandiose building. It’s another evening of fighting crime then taking refuge where people won’t think to look. The last rays of sunlight greet him here after he has torn through shadowed alleyways and vile gangs. Only when he lets himself sit on the stone floor does he register the faint sound of a grand piano.

The very presence of any sound should annoy him. A quiet breeze after his daily patrolling and assignments around the city’s nastiest parts is more than enough. But tonight, as he rests his head against the tall border of brick for the roof, he lets the muffled classical repertoire take him back, even further back than his childhood. It’s a time unnamed yet familiar to Hei. He can’t put a finger on it. 

He’s seen her but never heard her. He doesn’t have the money, he’s sure, but he doesn’t need money to just know about her. The city streets inhabited by artists, painters, writers, musicians alike, murmur about where she is on the globe, who she’s giving music to in real time. Billboards jovially echo her latest accomplishments and advertisements. 

Kirsi has just arrived at Tokyo, her last destination in her world tour, “Cherry on the Top.” Bai had shown Hei every single video she could find of her performances in the previous locations. He’s come to enjoy them on his own; an incredible feat on Kirsi’s part. Music was something he had never set aside time to indulge in, yet he’s been visiting the roof of this very building almost every night now, just in case he can hear her play again. And, tonight he is lucky. 

Hearing her music relieves that insistent tug in his gut just a little bit, the one that torments him suddenly when he passes by a billboard of her, or sees the latest news of her work. Perhaps her music—her being—was really as magical as everyone said if it’s moving him, of all people, to an emotion he can’t name. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays sitting on the roof. He gets up once he hears a distant roar of clapping follow the music, music which he’s been trying again to ingrain each note into his mind.

The trip back home isn’t long, but he does stop by a convenience store along the way for a few groceries to last him and Bai through the rest of the week. This time he could afford to spend a little on some of their favorite snacks before he gets his next paycheck from the Syndicate. Sometimes he wonders if this is what his life has come down to: ridding the streets of crime just to rack up enough money to purchase a few nice things over necessities every once in a while.  

Soon enough he’s out of the lightly snow-lined pavements. When he enters the front door of their apartment, only the light from their single bedroom is on. He leaves the bags of goods on the coffee table. The bedroom door creaks when he inches it open to confirm his guess: Bai had fallen asleep studying, faceplanted in her books. Whether it was unintentional or whether it was a ploy to leave the bed empty for him to take tonight, he could never tell. 

Still, he takes the couch. It’s not the worst, furnished with a nice blanket and a throw pillow, maybe two if he needs to elevate whatever he’s sprained from a fight. He switches off the bedroom light, not bothering to carry Bai to bed because she always hated it when he’d do that, and retires to the leather couch. 

He lets the rumpled bags of groceries wait on the coffee table. It’s the only time he can lay down, throw an arm over his eyes, and let himself be a mess.

His legs are being handled in a familiar way when he wakes up the next morning. As she holds up his legs to clear a space on the couch, Bai notices and explains herself immediately. She always does. “No school. The snow picked up just before dawn and we got an email from the principal.” 

Hei groans, “Time?” He briefly curls in his blanket clad legs to let her take a seat at the other end of the couch. Only when she tugs at his trousers does he allow himself to straighten out again with his calves now on her lap. 

“Almost eight. AM.” She fiddles with the TV remote to get something on screen. It’s a news channel, probably just to get Hei to open his eyes. He does. 

“I know it’s AM.” 

“As if you don’t sleep some days off until eight PM,” she huffs. She’s not wrong, and they both know it. “When did you come back last night?”

He doesn’t know. “Late enough to see you knocked out on top of your magnetism homework.” The news reporter on the TV is still going on about the sudden change in weather and the traffic it’s causing. He cuts off Bai before she can start again. “No, I’m not doing it for you.” She grumbles and pokes at his legs while he glances back at the TV.

This time he’s looking at a headline reading ‘Pianist’s Last Leg Of World Tour Reaches Millions.’ Bai gives up pestering Hei to bolt upright with a gasp. The reporter himself looks a little happier to not be droning on about the weather anymore, “It seems that Yin’s latest tour has left such an impression that she’s extending her stay in tokyo to put on another show, improvised this time!”

Hei’s certainly a little more awake now. 

“Brother brother brother brother!” Bai is rapidly tapping his shins. “We need to go!” 

“We don’t need to go. We want to go. Money doesn’t go to ‘wants.’”

“So what if we want —” She cuts herself off with a gasp. “‘We.’ Did you say ‘we?’” She grins, an eerie sight to Hei. “‘We want to go?’ So that means you also want to go?”

“Bai, we’re not going.” He finally sits up and drags a hand down his face. The blanket falls to his waist.

“This is a once in a lifetime chance!” Bai turns back to the TV, where the news reporter is summarizing the details and logistics of the upcoming show. 

This weekend, in the afternoons and evenings, Hei catches despite himself. And, with the show being put on at such short notice, each ticket is selling for— Oh goodness, he doesn’t even want to know. He grumbles, swings his legs off the couch, and heads into the bathroom to freshen up. 

The moment he returns, Bai is already chattering as she frantically scrolls on her phone. “It’s thirty-thousand yen.”

“What?!”

“Well, thirty-four-thousand, actually—so sixty-eight-thousand for the both of us—but I rounded down to save your sanity. And that’s a seat in the back row. Towards the front row—”

“Bai, stop.”

“I’m not asking for a front row seat, Brother, I’m just informing you how much more expensive it is than the back rows!”

“That’s enough ‘informing’ from you in one day. We are not going.” Hei sets about the kitchen to make a quick breakfast for the both of them. A few last-minute errands would be good to run today if he can get out of the apartment a little earlier than most would. 

He hears her socked footsteps pad into the kitchen, much like that stray cat who follows him around the streets whether he’s fighting or not. “You also want to hear Yin play. I know you do!”

Hei sighs, “Sure, but the videos you’ve shown me of her do the job.”

She clears her throat with that mock politeness only she can manage. “Let me correct myself: You also want to hear Yin play live.”

“Wrong,” he grunts. The sound of eggs frying joins them now. “What’s the point of hearing her play live when I can watch a video someone will post of her later?”

“But this one’s different. She’s improvising! Making up repertoire on the spot! A genius at work!” She adds, grumbling, “What you said is exactly why I never asked to go to her shows here before, and you should be grateful.”

She’s right, he realizes. He’s gotten so careful with his pay that she’s been growing up with an intuition to know what she can and can not ask of him. Usually there’s little she can ask. He hears about much less mindful families sometimes, and frankly he is grateful. 

But, if he’s regularly setting aside some of his paycheck to buy their snacks, which they don’t really need as much as they want, can’t he throw his wallet into a few hours of live music from a renowned pianist?

He sighs after a long moment. “I’ll think about it.” It’s a low mutter. 

“But, tickets will run out—!”

“I said I’ll think about it. They won’t run out today, they just put them up.”

She whines, “Brother, you don’t know how show tickets work!” 

The sizzling and popping of their food dies down. He plates one serving of the breakfast and slides across the counter to her and she catches it. On another plate, he sets aside what’s left for himself. “I do know they will be resold by third parties at much more affordable prices.” 

“In the dark web,” she scoffs.

“Just eat.” He glares at her. “I’ll figure something out.”

Chapter Text

He does figure something out that night. After he’s finished the last of his assignments, taking out some no-name drug lord, he finds a fairly safe alley where he can still have a signal and he lays low as he squints against his blinding little rectangle. 

That stray who seems to find him wherever he is during whichever night paces in front of him, occasionally padding under his legs where his knees are drawn up to his chest. Sometimes it stops, just stands and stares at him. “What are you looking at?” Hei would mutter sourly before it meows and returns to pacing around him. 

He finally finds the lowest priced tickets that are being resold at the moment on some little known site. Even so, a considerable portion of his balance and a larger part of his soul leaves him when he clicks to purchase. He hopes his next check can fill the newfound dread in his chest. 

The stray meows and paws at him. Hei doesn’t know if it’s praising what a sweet brother he is or if it’s calling him an absolute moron for doing this. “Thanks,” he grumbles anyway. 

His phone pings. Bonus assignments. Helping his wallet recover would be a nice way to spend his time. 

For the next hour or so, he’s wandering through alleys where streetlights can barely reach, then ripping apart self-proclaimed criminals, then back to walking with his hands in his coat pockets again. It’s a comfortable cycle. The strange little cat—strange because it would remain in Hei’s vicinity while he fights and that’s far too close for Hei’s comfort—trails behind him wherever he goes. Hei doesn’t mind anymore, but he’s sure the first mistake he made leading to this was feeding the cat some of his dinner one night when he had started work early. 

He ends up at that roof again. Sometimes the cat jumps in his coat pocket and has him climb up here with a few added pounds. Sometimes it parts ways a little earlier with a few noises, as if to say “see you tomorrow.” Tonight it did the latter. 

In just under a week’s time, Hei would be inside this building instead of on top of it. He would be hearing that pianist play for everyone in the hall. She might as well play for the entirety of Tokyo if the hall could somehow house millions of people in some fantastical way. 

Yet he feels the need for her to play for him and make sure he can hear. Hei often isn’t so selfish. To envy how much other people allow themselves to pour money into concerts and performances is emotionally unreasonable of him and a waste of time. He doesn’t need to hear this pianist live, he wants to, and his money doesn’t go to the wants before the needs. But, how can he want to hear her so bad it hurts? 

Hei isn’t someone who wishes for what he wants, he works for it first and foremost. Right now, on the flat stone roof of a concert hall, he wishes for her and a life he never thought he could live.

The information on the tickets reads “Saturday 7:00 PM” in a clean font that looks like it was designed to make Hei feel better about his purchase. 

It’s Saturday, seven o’clock, when Bai shakes him awake on the couch with that vigor she always has. 

“Brother, it’s showtime tonight!” He’s startled into consciousness by a rapid whisper in his ear. “It’s seven o’clock.”

Seven? His brows furrow but his eyes remain closed. “AM or PM?” He mutters into the throw pillow his head is on. 

“AM.”

He groans and turns away from her. “Bai, go back to sleep.” A futile ask, but he has to try. 

“How?” She whines. 

“Cold pillows or something,” he mumbles haphazardly, already halfway back to his slumber. 

A little later, he next wakes up to the smell of a simple breakfast. He sits up and looks over at the kitchen to see Bai making some toast with cut fruit. Of course, she just couldn’t sleep. Hei was like that once, unstoppable with a one track mind until he had to manage this flat and two whole lives—more like one and a half with Bai taking a decent amount of responsibility over herself. Living day by day isn’t the worst, but his sister could never. 

In minutes, Hei accepts his plate of breakfast with a thank you and listens to her ramble about the show. His own plans for it look nowhere near promising. “They don’t explicitly say it, but the dress code for these sorts of performances is always at least semi-formal. If I’m going to be wearing my best dress, you make sure you wear something nice too.”

“I was just going to wear a shirt and trousers.” Then he trails off. 

She’s glaring at him with an exasperation unique to her. “Brother! We are going to look in the closet for something better.” He doesn’t try stopping her.

The performance hall feels much larger than Hei expected. Getting on the roof of this almost every night was the closest feeling he could get to being on top of the world, like he once wished as a child. Was it always that some things are larger than he could ever imagine once he experiences them in the ways he should?

Bai wrangled him into wearing one of his nicer overcoats over a plain white shirt and grey trousers. She insisted on ironing both of their entire outfits to fight off any creases. 

She’s practically vibrating in her seat before the show begins. Hei wouldn’t admit to anyone that his own tells of impatience come out to join her, like how his foot taps on the carpeted floor of the hall.

The lights dim. The crowd hushes. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” Footsteps echo from the stage floor to the back of the hall, then a stage light opens. Revealed is a blond man suited up in white with a microphone. “It’s sincerely a pleasure to host you all tonight again, but you also have yourselves to thank. It is only with your support that we are able to pull off one more show here in Tokyo before we officially end the current tour. The last performance was so well received that Miss Yin herself suggested an improv in this very hall you’re sitting in right now.

“In fact, she’d like to thank you all personally before she begins playing. Please welcome the lady of the night, Miss Yin!” With a flourish, he ends his speech. He steps aside and swings his arm behind him to give way for everyone’s eyes to reach the pianist. The crowd breaks into excited clapping. Hei hears Bai squeal quietly beside him. 

On stage, the woman is handed the microphone. The moment she starts speaking, Hei can’t think. Then he’s pulled back into the world when the next applause roars around him. He realizes he has no clue what Yin said. 

Not that it’s a concern right now, because surely, he knows her from somewhere, sometime beyond his memories. But, if he can’t remember, then his eyes shouldn’t track her dainty hands with a marksman’s precision as she returns the microphone to someone he doesn’t care to identify and smooths down her skirts. His throat shouldn’t go dry when she takes a proper seat at the piano bench. His breath shouldn’t leave him once her fingers tuck under the fall board to push it forward and unveil clean lines of black and white. He shouldn’t be losing the feeling of his body in the seat as he hears her press the right keys to spin a long tale, a vast world just out of his reach, made purely out of the music that never once stops for too long. 

Once her hands leave the instrument to rest and take a hold of her skirts to bow to everyone, he shouldn’t be forgetting how to stand and applaud with everyone else without feeling weak in the knees.

Chapter Text

As Hei and Bai walk home that night, the latter is much more quiet than Hei had anticipated. There’s a little spring in her step and a lingering smile keeping her lips pulled up just slightly. She keeps asking him if he thought the show was good, and what were his favorite parts, and why he liked them.

She seems really happy. That’s all Hei needs to enjoy any time of day or night. He thinks he wants to spend more on her whenever he can. It means more assignments, more danger, but seeing his sister like this makes him feel like he can do anything in the world. 

So, he decided to still work tonight. Get a headstart on next week's assignments, or scrap up any more bonus ones, or whatever more he can secure for the next paycheck. He unlocks the front door to their flat and lets Bai in while he remains at their doorstep. 

“You’re not staying tonight?” She asks and turns to look at him, a few steps into the flat before she seems to realize Hei isn’t following. 

“I’ll be working.”

She frowns, “Brother, you’re ready for a full night’s sleep as much as I am after the show. I know it.”

“I’ll live.” He shrugs. “The show shouldn’t take me away from all of the night’s work. I’ll be back soon.”

That last statement is all he really needs to convince her sometimes. She frees his favorite black coat from the small pile of jackets slumped over the armrest of the couch and tosses it to him. “If you say so. Good luck, stay safe.”

“You too, Bai,” he nods a quiet thanks and swaps out coats. When he gives Bai the formal overcoat, they wave farewells. He shuts the door, staying there a moment longer to hear her lock it. 

It’s starting to drizzle by the time he’s back out onto the barren streets and dusty alleys. That cat isn’t here tonight, because of either the rain or how late Hei is starting work tonight. Whatever the reason is, it’s for the best. 

He sets off on one of his regular routes right away. Following general locations and other information given by the Syndicate is nothing too difficult when he keeps his head down and does what he’s told. 

He catches sight of his first two kills tonight. From a few moments of observing the young men, he can tell they’re amateurs, an easy stop to whatever crime they’re involved in. And, easy money. He takes only the bit of caution he needs to approach them as silently as possible while staying in the dark and slowly stepping through the growing puddles. 

When one of the men notices him with wide, confused eyes, he’s close enough to take them out. He throws his knife and nails the spine of the man who has remained oblivious to his presence. The other takes off running, and Hei gives chase. 

They run through one, two, three, four more alleys. Hei’s catching up. He reaches out to grab the collar of the man’s shirt. 

Then, a wave of heat, flame and fury bursts up between him and his victim. He stumbles back, throwing his arms up and ducking behind them. Embers brush his coat daringly for an instant before popping out into nothing. When the sudden roar dies down, Hei forces his eyes open to a squint. 

On the ground in front of him is a small, unassuming can, or the remains of it. Some meters away, a cigarette dimly burns out. 

“What a ruckus you’ve made through the streets. Good thing no ordinary citizen will care what goes on down here, hm?” Dress shoes click on the stone, almost mockingly. 

“No thanks to you,” Hei barks. He’s painfully empty handed, no shirt collar in his grip and no one dying by his hands and certainly no assignment completed. 

The man who stops in front of him is familiar. His white suit and trousers are unmarked by the soot plaguing Hei’s person. His blond hair is slightly tussled, not as combed down as it was during the show. Occupying his hands this time is a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. 

Once he’s pocketed his little partners in crime, he extends a hand. “November,” he announces. Hei doesn’t take it. 

“It’s late December.”

“My alias, I mean,” he snorts and retracts his hand back to his pocket. “Thought you’d be a smart one, Hei. I’ve heard your name haunt the streets.” 

He tenses, “That’s the wrong name then.”

“Well I know the real one. I know both, BK-201.”

“Out of my way,” he grunts and strides forward. 

“Ah-ah-ah,” November claps Hei’s shoulder with a push angled just right to force him back. “I came here precisely to get in your way.”

“I have an assignment to complete.”

“You mean you have people to kill without knowing if they’re actually innocent or not.”

Hei scoffs. “That’s not my problem. I take orders.”

“From the Syndicate, correct?” November continues without waiting for a confirmation. “You know, you’re an awful big grump for how your sister is.” Hei glares at him in alarm, because just how much does this smug nobody know about him?

November, with that grin of his, reads him too well for his liking. “Before a show begins, Miss Yin likes to listen to her audience line up by the entrance and get checked in. I join her sometimes if I can. Even from the roof, she and I could hear your sister, Bai if I remember correctly, rambling and raving outside the building.” He chuckles, “She said that’s the most energetic fan she’s observed in a while. Then I looked over the edge and saw you beside her. And, as striking as you were in that overcoat—”

“Why did you interfere in my work?” Hei snaps. “This is my only source of income.”

“Oh, killing pointlessly?”

“I said I take orders.”

November raises a brow. “Orders to kill people you barely know anything about?”

“They’re criminals ruining the city—“

“Have you ever considered if they’re truly innocent, Hei?” The suited man’s smirk is gone now. “That they never wished to stay stuck in crime, that they were actually working towards a better life and had no other way to do it? You know, I’ve a hunch that you’re not any different from them. Like you said, you take orders.”

Hei won’t confirm or deny that. The alleyway is entirely silent, save for the two of them. “What about you then? Why are you going as far as sabotaging an employee of the Syndicate?”

November hums. “I can’t divulge any more of my identity than I already have. Just know that I like to weed out the worst of the city by the roots: the masterminds, not their underlings. And, I wish for you to reconsider the way you fight their crime.” 

He gets no response from Hei, but still he produces two slips of cardstock from his pocket. Tickets. “To compensate for the assignment you lost.” Hei tries not to let his eyes go wide. “Our next show is in a month, to be unveiled to the public in two weeks. Even if you don’t want to come, I’m sure Bai will. And, I promise this will be the first and last time I obstruct your work.”

His eyes narrow but he takes the tickets. He tears his gaze from them once he hears November begin to walk away. “How did you know Bai is my sister?”

The steps pause. It’s a few long moments before he’s given an answer. “It was Miss Yin’s guess.” Briefly, November glances back at him over his shoulder with a sly smile. “I take it she’s correct? I’m afraid I can’t tell you how. She can’t really either. It must’ve felt like it to her, I suppose.”

He starts walking again, but slowly. “But, it’s a curious case to me also. She even said she remembers the young lady’s voice from somewhere.”

Chapter Text

The tickets are safe and sound in one of Hei’s coat pockets because he’s keeping a hand in it with them to tell himself they’re still here. For a single assignment, let alone a failed one, Hei can almost feel the two pieces of cardstock weigh him down from their immense worth, like they're threatening to tear through the seams of the pocket, drop to the pavement and sink slowly into the ground. 

The thought of telling Bai makes his stomach turn. Could he trust this man—alias “November,” a month of the calendar year for goodness’ sake—who halts his work for the night, a bit dangerously, then gives him a monetary apology worth several paychecks from the Syndicate?

He is forced to confront these nagging thoughts, eventually. 

It’s now been five days since Hei received the tickets. It’s been seven since his last self-assigned laundry day. By some stroke of luck, he passes by their storage room and interrupts Bai before she can finish feeding his clothes to the washing machine.

“Brother, you didn’t have to snatch it from me like that!” She huffs as she fills up the machine’s tub of detergent. 

“Sorry,” Hei murmurs, maybe a little abashed, but still clutching at his black coat. He rummages through the deep pockets until his fingers grasp at paper. “It’s important.” 

“What is it?”

He frowns, returning her gaze. “It’s from work.”

“If it was so important, you would’ve stowed it away somewhere safe the night you got it.” She crosses her arms.

Hei sighs. Well, he wouldn’t lose much if he tells her now. “Please do not ‘freak out,’ as you’d say.” She nods, only looking more curious. “The other night, I ran into the man who runs Yin’s shows—”

“What?! What did he say?”

He hesitates. He takes a step back because Bai is staring him down, looking like she’s ready to charge at him. “He had interrupted my assignment, but then gave me tickets to—” He’s cut off by Bai’s squealing and jumping. He sighs, finally fishes out the tickets from the pocket, and he realizes he hadn’t actually read their details. Might as well do it now for his dear sister.

Bai meanwhile gets a hold of herself, barely. “When?—”

“The fourteenth of January.”

“—And where? No, it’s here again, right?—”

“No,” His brows furrow. “Okinawa.” 

“—Wait, wait, how did this even happen?—”

“I just told you that.”

“—Who gave—”

“I told you that also.”

“—We’re going, right?”

When he looks up from the ticket, Bai is grinning at him with stars with her eyes. It sways him a little more than he should allow it to. “We’ll have to travel, let alone find a place to stay until the morning after the show.” 

She deflates a little. “The man gave you the tickets for free and you’re saying no because of the travel costs?” 

“My wallet is still hurting from purchasing seats for the improv,” he mutters. 

She strides out of the storage room with a purpose. “Well, let’s call the nice man and see if we can ask for help.”

Hei is mortified. No way in hell he’s going to crawl back to November and beg for him to cover even more expenses, not when he’s asking for it this time. He’s been taking care of himself and Bai for so long, he’s sure he doesn’t need help for spending a little on whatever brief luxuries they can afford. The last thing he needs is some stranger in a pristine, blinding white suit bribing him with more money. 

But, he follows her out quickly to his phone and all he can sputter out is, “No! We’re not doing that.” 

“What’s his number? Surely he gave it somewhere!” Bai turns and grabs the ticket out of his hands before he can react. She must’ve picked up some damn quick moves somewhere down the line of living with him. Much to Hei’s relief, she doesn’t find anything after scrutinizing both sides of each of the cardstock. 

But, her crestfallen eyes makes him reconsider. 

“I can try finding him tonight and talk about the issue of travel expenses,” he says suddenly. 

Bai looks back up. “Are you sure?”

He shrugs on the coat, which can wait one more night without a full cycle of laundry. “I’ll try.”

Hei has no idea where to begin looking for November, but thankfully that doesn't hurt his chances. He’s going towards the alley they first met and he finds him before he even gets there, at a small, dimly lit park. He also happens to see a moving black lump padding on the bench where November is sitting.

“That’s my cat.” Hei grunts once he’s close enough.

November looks up, apparently unoffended. “Oh really,” he drawls.

Hei picks up the strange cat to his chest. Luckily, it meows but doesn’t fight him. “Yes.”

November looks at him like he definitely knows this is not his cat. A staring contest ensues. “Well, I hope you’re not just here to steal my stray friends.” 

He takes a seat on the other end of the bench from the suited man. The cat lays on his lap, docile. “It’s about the tickets. I can’t go.”

“Why?” 

“Travel expenses. And, staying the night somewhere.” 

November only rolls his eyes. “I’ll cover that too—”

“What?”

“—And, any other expenses you can’t manage.”

“No!”

“No?” November turns to him knowingly. “So, you came here only to tell me you won’t be able to take up my offer? Have you already told Bai that you both won’t be able to go? You’re not even going to try to get some help?” 

“I don’t need help,” Hei bites out. They fall into silence. He hears a rhythmic flicking start up and glances over to see November fidgeting with the switch of his lighter. 

“Would you come if I asked you to?”

“You already did.”

“No,” he tilts his head. “I invited you. Now I ask you, only because the star of the show would ask you.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t enter the flat as discreetly as he would’ve liked. Bai happened to be up to get a glass of water. She’s too groggy to react as excitably as she could’ve. “Oh,” she mumbles with a blink when she sees Hei with the cat on his shoulder. “Where did you find him?”

“It’s been following me around during work for a while. Might as well take it in.” He takes it in his arms to remove his coat. “You go back to bed. I’ll give it a bath.”

“I want to help.” She rubs her eyes but follows him into the bathroom. The tub is running and the cat eyes the rising water warily. It’s already meowing into Hei’s chest as he lets it stay in his arms for a little longer. “How was work?” Bai asks and lets the cat sniff her hand. 

“Good.” Once the tub is filled, he turns off the faucet and tries putting the cat in the water. “We’re going to Okinawa.” A smile tugs his mouth when he hears an excited squeal and an angry yowl at the same time.

Chapter Text

Hei’s arms hurt. They shouldn’t, because their only cargo is Mao in his carrier, which was heavier than expected but Hei had found it resold at a dream of reduced price. All he had to do the night before he and Bai would leave for their trip to Okinawa was fix up the cage’s latch and tape some spare styrofoam over the small plastic hole on the corner of the carrier. Mao had been watching his hard work the entire time. Once Hei finished off with a soft towel on the bottom of the carrier, the cat took a tentative step inside, comfortably sat himself on the towel, and meowed at him. It seemed Hei had passed the test. 

On the morning of their leave, Bai boards the train several minutes earlier than Hei does, with an elation no one in the station could match. They had been in line for a street food stand, because Hei was determined to get them both something to eat on the way to the next stop. 

“Why are we still here?” Next to him, she’d whined like anything. “The train is about to leave!”

Hei meanwhile is counting up all the cash he has in his wallet, because god forbid he loses any of it, further shrinks the trip’s budget in his mind, and sees Bai pout even more. “No it’s not. We have twenty minutes until even the boarding starts.” 

“Walking back to the train takes ten!”

Hei huffs, “And then what? Sitting down takes fifteen? Really, Bai, trains won’t leave when boarding just begins. I’m pretty sure they programmed the system to prevent that from happening.”

“Oh, so you think you know everything about how trains work because you studied physics, out of all things, in university?” Bai grumbles and he rolls his eyes. 

“So restless,” he grunts, glancing down at her. “Go wait on the train. I’ll get the food.” He hands her ticket and resumes facing forward now switching the carrier over to his other arm. He doesn’t need to look back at her to know the way she’s grinning right now. Her footsteps pitter-patter back to the train and he listens to them until they blend in with the never ending cacophony of shoes on floors. 

The line continues moving at a decent pace. Soon enough, he’s embarking the train with food safely held by his hands clad in napkins. He settles next to Bai just as the train begins moving.

It’s over a day of travel by train then ferry, but when they arrive in the late afternoon, almost falling asleep on their feet, November is waiting for them at the terminal. He must have caught sight of them first because when Hei spotted him, he was already looking right in their direction. 

“Finally, my friend!” November spreads his arms then claps his hands together like those spokespeople do. “You couldn’t have come any later.”

“You have friends , brother?”

“No.” Hei drones keeping his eyes on November, who smirks at Bai’s genuine surprise. “Just someone I know.”

November stage whispers to her, “We’re friends. He just doesn’t know what the word means.” As Bai snorts, he turns his attention to the carrier in tow, just like Hei had expected. He boldly brings his hand to the cage door. “And who’s this little—?” Mao leaps up to the door and hisses with a snap of his teeth to the thin wires in front of him. 

By then November has whipped his hand back into his pocket, and not very smoothly. “God, I hate cats,” he mutters. 

Hei coughs. It doesn’t really hide his single beat of quiet laughter. “You held your hand out first.”

“He’s nice once you get to know him,” Bai tries to offer with a sheepish smile. 

“Ah, forget about it.” November walks them out the terminal, all jovial now. “What you two need to get to know is where you’ll be staying.”

He loads them in his car with a few mutters of “come on then, in you go.” While Bai comfortably has the backseat all to herself, Hei ends up in the passenger seat next to him with the carrier in his lap.  November swings into the driver’s seat and is about to start the car when he just notices the carrier and freezes. “You’re putting that brat in the backseat now.”

“He’s not a brat,” Hei scoffs but complies. 

The hotel they arrive at in minutes is quaint, unassuming. Two small floors stand quietly in front of them, just barely blocking a close view of the ocean stretching beyond their sights. Only the salty breeze speaks to them. Once they enter the lobby, November checks them in, presses the key in Hei’s hands, and shoos the siblings off to their room before he speaks a little longer with the receptionist. 

“Brother, do you smell that?” Bai asks excitedly the moment they step into their room. The ocean is indeed the first of what Hei notices too; the glass door to the balcony is wide open, letting the wind carry in the scent.

“This is… nice.” Maybe a little nicer than their flat, for one. There are two beds separated by a nightstand and a lamp. By the smallest wall of the room is a simple desk supplied with pens and the telephone for service. 

He sets the carrier down and opens its latch. Mao pads out curiously and begins exploring. Hei checks the bathroom, where he’s pleasantly surprised to find soaps, shampoo, lotion, and towels already there, ready for use. He tries shutting the faucet that never seems to be fully off, given the slow drip of water beating the sink. The dripping continues despite his efforts.

Regardless, Bai was somehow right in that he had overpacked. 

He goes back to the desk, walking past Bai holding Mao in her arms as she gazes at the ocean, and requests a small dinner from room service. Once the order is promised to come soon, he calls Mao over to let him drink water from the faucet before the cat can take desperate measures for his thirst.  

There comes a knock on the door then. It’s almost too early for room service to have prepared and delivered dinner. Perhaps they’re quick workers? Opening the door he finds—

“Miss Yin?” Hei asks blankly. He barely hears Bai’s gasp and footsteps from the balcony. 

“This is the room of Hei and Bai, right?” Her voice breaks him out of his stupor. 

“Yes. Do you and November need—“

“He said you have a cat.”

Hei blinks and opens his mouth but Bai answers for him promptly, pushing forward past Hei to be face to face with her hero. “Yes we do, miss! His name is Mao because… he meows a lot. And we, uh, didn’t know what else to name him.” She ends with an awkward clear of her throat. 

Yin smiles very slightly. Hei would’ve missed it if he’d caught himself staring and stopped already. “Mao. May I see him?”

Bai squeals quietly and claps before leading Yin inside, pushing past Hei again. He catches himself on the wall as his gaze follows the woman. 

He realizes his lips remain apart from failing to hold a basic conversation with a famed pianist. He forced his mouth closed. While Bai chatters about how they took in Mao and Yin delicately holds the purring little thing, all Hei can do is stare and wonder how he ended up here this evening with an undeniable tug in his chest.