Archive of Our Own

In the string of questionable choices, near-death experiences, and half-assed apologies that have led Michizou Tachihara to his present-day life, the reality of his situation has never hit him quite so violently.

He is a twenty-two year-old college senior, a verifiable party boy, friendly with everyone, and known for spending his weekends volunteering at the local animal shelter and doing homework at their university coffee shop to flirt with the barista.

Michizou has also — and this is known to perhaps one in the world, and that is himself — forged his college transcript (he should be a sophomore, really), faked his high school diploma, enjoys drinking maybe a little more than he should, volunteers just to fill the time now that there's nothing exciting going on, and is a former monster hunter-for-hire.

It's been two years. He should have forgotten all about his past life by now.

An ask too large for even a God to summit, though; Michizou can't throw the most exhilarating five years of his short life out without a fight.

It's fitting, Michizou thinks, that his past comes to haunt him when he's drunk and half-dressed, leg thrown over the side of whoever's bathtub he's in. It might be Higuchi's. It's hazy — could be his fault, could be the cigarette smoke in the air.

There are frantic, agitated gestures, so familiar and so foreign in front of him.

Michizou waves them off lazily. It's a dick move. He knows that. "I'm — outta practice and half-here, man. Don't start yelling at me now."

There's an annoyed huff. Then a quiet, seething, "this is pathetic," and Michizou knows that, and he doesn't care. If he was supposed to care, he wouldn't be here, at a party, at university, or even living at all.

Then, when Michizou is beginning to come to his senses and wonder why Gin Akutagawa has tracked him down this far, Gin gives a self-defeated, "I need your help."

Michizou would like to say that he sobers up, in that moment, and stares at Gin with the utmost of clarity. That he understands exactly what they're saying, why they need his help, and that he's more than willing to help out the girl that's saved his life more times than he can count.

Instead, Michizou huffs, turning his gaze to the water stain on the ceiling. "Find someone else to do it. Why're you really here, anyway?"

He's always been able to articulate well — even intoxicated — and part of that is because of how long he spent begging Gin to talk to him, trying to get them to understand him in a way that he'd never asked anyone to know him before.

It'd failed.

At least he got something decent out of it.

The frown that Gin sports is one that Michizou can't see from underneath Gin's mask, but he knows it's there. Thin, pursed lips; she's likely debating throwing him out the window.

"I need your help," Gin repeats. Maybe it pains them to spit out. Michizou's selfish side hopes it does.

"Why?" Michizou repeats, too, because two can play at this game. It must seem like a stupid game, when he's still in the bathtub like this. How did he end up in the bathtub, anyway? What time is it?

Is he more sober than he was earlier? Michizou really can't tell. That's probably a no, then.

Gin refuses to make eye contact with him, staring anywhere. There's a redness to the rim of her eyes, but that could be the smoke. The smell of nicotine is heavy and thick, but no worse than the awkward atmosphere.

Gin's out of her depth here. This is a college house party. They are a for-hire murderer who socializes most with a freak of a demon summoner (or necromancer, Michizou can never remember).

She takes a breath, a motion made visible by intention: Michizou shouldn't be able to see the way their chest rises-and-falls, but he can, because Gin wants him too. She's being vulnerable, but not really. They're doing it for the sympathy points.

If Michizou had any of those left to give, he'd still be by Gin's side, monster blood, guts, ichor and all. Instead, he's here.

And Gin shouldn't be. And he keeps getting hung up on that. And he can still taste the last shot of cheap vodka in the back of his throat. And the smoke is getting to him, maybe. And, and, and.

Maybe if gets enough and, then he can finally escape this wreck he's made of his life. Here he thought he was getting somewhere, even if this, too, was built on lies.

"Because you owe me," she says, soft, gentle, everything that Michizou doesn't deserve. Gin knows that, too; this isn't intended to make him feel better. Michizou knows how to pry apart Gin's rough edges, the sharp, quick-wit that they use to shield from the world; he had the right to do so, until he gave it up. This softness is meant to sting.

It does.

It'd be worse if he was sober, though.

What do I owe you? Michizou wants to ask. He knows the answer already.

He's owed Gin many things throughout the years: a pack of gum, a pair of shoelaces, a couple of shots, and favors. Each favor painstakingly won by saving his life; Michizou thinks that, occasionally, that is the only reason she's saved his life.

This is no different.

They're only cashing out.

"Fuck off," is what comes out of Michizou's mouth, instead of I'm sorry, or I know I do, or anything that he'd say if he had more common sense.

Gin simply stares. The weight of her stare has always comforted him, and that's still true now.

Michizou sighs, theatrical and too-loud for the small space they're in. "And here I said I wouldn't go back to you like a bad relationship," Michizou murmurs, more to himself than anything, then makes another exaggerated sound. "Yeah. Alright. I'll help you."

Gin nods.

Like the phantom he remembers them as, Gin just about disappears into thin air.

The gentle light of morning, floating in with streams of light through flowing curtains, does nothing to dispel the fact that Michizou is lying crumpled up on the floor in Higuchi's kitchen. His raging headache makes the gentle aspect of the sun foreign and intrusive, and there's something sticking to his forehead beyond his hair.

Michizou's never been a black-out drunk. He's been known to party a little too much, to not remember exactly what he said, but he's more than certain he saw Gin last night. He didn't imagine them. Not this time.

Well, that's a problem for another time, he figures, stumbling to his feet.

Higuchi never does invite rowdy guests. The place isn't as tarnished as Michizou would've anticipated, even if there's sticky red-punch stains on the counter, seeping into the burners of the oven. The bowl itself must've been poured out, because it isn't in the kitchen.

Michizou isn't the only one coming to, either.

"Hey," Michizou greets, low and semi-steady. He runs his hands through his hair — and doesn't even want to know whatever is sticky.

Higuchi doesn't look too good, either. Her usually-tame blonde bangs are spiked-up almost comically, and there's a lipstick mark smeared across the side of her mouth. She was wearing a nice blouse last name. Michizou notes that she is now wearing some over-sized button-down, and part of him thinks that's pretty hot — he shuts that down quickly enough.

"You look worse for wear," Higuchi says immediately, the words rolling off her tongue with all the ease of practiced debauchery. Scratch that. That's definitely a weird thing to think.

Michizou just stops looking at her entirely, staring up at the ceiling like his thoughts will cooperate and his hangover will dull. It does not dull. "Thanks, I feel worse for wear."

"I think you're the only straggler," Higuchi hums. She's got a mug of tea held to her lips, with both hands. There's smudged nail polish on her fingers, too —- acid green and pastel yellow, a combination Michizou personally would not have made.

"What, kick everyone out? Am I special, Higuchi?"

She rolls her eyes, then promptly winces at the action. "No one else thought to pass out in the bath tub."

Michizou allows that one to set the tone of the silence, giving his jaw another reprieve from how each syllable off his tongue flares up the pain in his head.

He ambles over to the shitty coffee maker, an appliance Higuchi only owns because of how many times they've done this, pouring himself a cup of burnt, over-brewed coffee. Tosses in three sugar cubes, one of which is helpfully supplied by Higuchi herself.

"Thanks," he mutters, and he thinks he means it down to his bones. He doesn't even know what he's thanking her for. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

Michizou's always been a liar, though, so who is he to judge that?

"You know," Higuchi says, much further into the afternoon, after Michizou's finished cleaning the kitchen top-to-bottom and she herself has finished vacuuming the carpet for a third time in a row. Higuchi is always willing to host — there is, indeed, a price for that. At least several too-large doses of over-the-counter painkillers is able to quell Michizou's hangover, for the most part.

"Yeah?" Michizou asks idly, tossing a bowl into the sink. Top-to-bottom save for the dishes. Higuchi doesn't have a dishwasher…

"There were a few guests I didn't recognize. Said they knew you."

"A few?" Michizou asks, suspicion already thick on his tongue. Gin is one thing.

Gin can float through a room without anyone any the wiser to their presence; he knows how to smile placatingly to get everyone to leave them alone.

If Higuchi's noticed multiple people, it means Michizou — somewhere along the line — fucked-up immensely.

Higuchi shrugs, but Michizou notices tension in her shoulders that wasn't there before. That he isn't supposed to notice.

Why is he noticing?

"Yeah," she says simply, avoiding eye contact with him as she does a quick prayer before opening the monstrosity that is her coat closet, where her vacuum supposedly fits. Michizou thinks he sees a flash of molding bread on the top shelf, but Higuchi slams the door closed as soon as the vacuum is clumsily shoved in. "They uh, they were asking about you. Wanted to chat."

"And… what did you tell them?" Michizou asks. He's aware of how shady it sounds, but frankly — it is shady.

If Gin wants his help for a job, it means that there's likely more than one interested party. Gin's the expert — at tracking, at hunting; at everything, really. While she might be interested in help for a job, Michizou's run up a miles-long list of grudges and favors that he left blank when he disappeared off the face of the earth.

"That I didn't know you," Higuchi says, innocently. Way too innocently, as she pivots into the kitchen (where Michizou is still miserably scrubbing dishes) and pops a grape into her mouth from her perpetual counter-fruit bowl. "And they must've gotten you mixed-up with someone else. After all, you aren't the first college boy to think that hair's in style."

Michizou finally, finally stops to stare at her properly. Soap drips down his wrists, lathering the already-wet dishes.

Higuchi's hair is still a wreck, pieces of blonde falling out of her usually-meticulous bun. There's a bead of sweat rolling down her brow; the sunlight hits her deep-brown eyes just right, illuminating the full depth of color and knowledge in there.

It's impulsive and Michizou knows it, but his soap-covered hands fly up to gently, so gently, cup her face. "I could kiss you right now," Michizou says, his relief running over him in waves. "You — you are a genius and I should give you way more credit than you do."

Higuchi snorts — more of a nervous laugh than a snort proper, but Michizou finds it endearing nonetheless —, awkwardly leaning into-and-away from his hand. "Yeah, well. Shady crowd you used to run with, right?"

Michizou's heart skips a beat.

Oh.

"Oh, yeah," he says flippantly, noticing how intimate their contact is only as he pulls his hand away. There's a sud on her face, but she makes no move to brush it off her cheek. Michizou swallows — has Higuchi's stare always been so intense? "I forgot I told you that. I — Really, thank you. I don't… Yeah, thank you."

"Of course," she says, and Michizou knows to the bottom of his soul that she means of course, I'd do this and the rest for you.

She's a good friend. Michizou's guilt curls, snapping against his stomach lining as the bitterness of his lies soak down his throat.

Gin does not say I could kill you right now, like you deserve. She's the living embodiment of action, the lithe grace to their frame echoing every word before Michizou even has a chance to process it.

That is to say, he's pressed against the grimy wall of an old barn with a stake pressed under his chin, digging into the soft flesh under his jaw, with Gin's bright, unnervingly stormy eyes raking over his face — searching for every lie, every half-truth, every abandoned confession.

If they get what they're looking for, they don't show it.

Michizou swallows, his adam's apple bobbing against the splintering, uncarved wood of the thick stake. Red pine. He shouldn't be able to tell the wood type of a stake from its smell — or maybe he's looking for anything other than all he has to answer for in Gin's prying gaze.

"Do you want an apology?" is what comes out of his mouth, spat, agitated.

No one has ever gotten his temper as short as Gin Akutagawa — no one has worked with him better. It's a terrible dichotomy. Michizou was hoping putting a world between them would keep Gin from ever seeing him again.

He wonders what it means, that even in the dimming moonlight coming in through broken windows, that Gin is still one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen. Her hair flows over their shoulders like ink, softened by the blurriness in his own gaze.

Like Gin is only half as human as he claims to be. Or maybe, their freak of a brother — impressive as Ryuunosuke Akutagawa might be — lost her once and raised Gin from the dead. Or maybe Gin came from Hell in the first place.

Not that it matters, really. It doesn't matter if Gin is really human, because Michizou knows she'll always be his better.

Gin continues staring. There are bags under her eyes, he notices. And there's already blood staining her cuticles, even if it isn't late enough out for monster-hunting.

They dig the stake further into Michizou's skin. While not as sharp as a knife, he can feel the droplet of blood the rough wood elicits. She'd put it through his tongue if it meant he'd stop with the half-assed retorts and the never-meant apologies.

"Fine," Michizou says, and vitriol rolls off his tongue, but it isn't for Gin. Not really. It never has been.

It's for this — this sort of life. Monster hunting. Living in the dark. Racking up the blood on his hands and his kill counts like it's something to be proud of.

As Michizou looks past Gin, he notices a sleeping bag on the ground. He notices a tattered, demonic looking stuffed animal.

His vitriol softens into something like pity, but isn't, not quite. Still not something that Gin appreciates. "Are you… Jesus, Gin. Why don't you stay in a motel or something? You don't have to live the job all the time, it's just a matter of speech."

She juts her chin out in defiance; the stake is lowered, only slightly. Not enough to keep Michizou from being pinned down, but he wasn't anticipating his freedom yet.

"Seriously. I came here, didn't I?" Michizou says. "You called. I came. I don't know what else you want from me."

Gin's soft voice is, as Michizou deserves, laced with venom. "I could kill you."

"You could," Michizou admits, leaning his head forward, against the stake again, before pulling back just to show Gin the vulnerability of his position. "And maybe you want to. But if you did, you wouldn't have asked for my help, would you?"

He tries to put on a cocky, easy-going smile — like the persona of the hunter he played for so many years. It only feels disingenuous, stretched like plastic over his face.

"You're pathetic." I missed you. I should kill you. I want to want to kill you. Michizou knows it all, knows that it won't roll off Gin's tongue even if she wants it too.

Still, Gin — in a fit of calculated agitation — tosses the stake to the side, releasing Michizou from his precarious position shoved against the wall. She turns, hair flying over his shoulders, and a light scoff makes Michizou crane his head for the words that follow.

"Your jacket sucks."

Michizou blinks. Blinks again.

He looks down at his chest, the letter-man jacket draped over his shoulders. It's less of a collegiate sports thing and more because, hey, his friend got one and they were selling them at the baseball game and — "Hey! You don't get to judge my fashion, Mr. One-Outfit. I know how little you do laundry."

This time, a louder scoff from Gin. She throws a wadded-up ball of clothing at Michizou — of which he catches, and immediately drops upon the loud squelch that emanates from the clothes and the crusted, weird texture that hits his palms.

The action's strangely endearing. Maybe Michizou had forgotten that, between the vast array of history they've yet to cover, Gin's a spiteful, hilarious, vindictive, comedic asshole. His favorite kind of person. The kind of person that lulls him in until he chokes on his own desire.

(He remembers being nineteen, clumsy hands fumbling with Gin's top in some back-alley they shouldn't have been in, blood as slick on his hands as was the liquor on his breath. They'd been basking in the high of a job well done. He remembers the dark, hungry look in Gin's eye. He thinks he's been trying to find that in everything he's done since.)

As Michizou jogs over to Gin's sleeping quarters, he takes the shift accordingly: they're supposed to be working now. Like real hunters.

Gin's a hunter-for-hire, the same as he used to be. It's a simple job: you wait for a call, you listen to some annoying sob story about a rich socialite who heard from someone who heard from someone that you can kill what killed their loved one, and then you kill that something. Most often, it's vampires — there's a real infestation. Sometimes it's more interesting, like an errant demon, or a confused raised corpse. On some notable occasions, it's a shape-shifter.

Either way, it's a job that requires focus and skill. Gin's always been a natural; she's the one who taught Michizou the ropes, before he really understood what he'd been in for.

"What's the job?" he asks, somewhat dumbly, before Gin's shoving a crinkled file into his hands. It's clearly been crushed and uncrumpled several times, but the wording on the document inside is familiar and simple.

It's in Hirotsu's handwriting, delegating out Gin's mission. Well, their mission now.

Yokohama. Nest. Primarily targeting upper-society socialites or their children — not turning, only killing. Occasionally takes hostages. Estimated five hostages currently. Original Nester might be former hunter Fukichi Ouchi. Ryuunosuke Akutagawa (necromancer) and Atsushi Nakajima (blessed hunter) are tasked with the dispatching of the Nest's syndicate. Gin Akutagawa is to dispatch of the now-turned new Nest members.

Michizou whistles, long and slow, shaking the file just slightly. "Bit off more than you can chew, huh?"

Gin glares, but doesn't deny it, sitting down on the sleeping bag. If it's bad enough that he's willing to ask for help…

"How many?" Michizou asks, taking on the serious tone of a hunter. Even if he left the life, he's not going to let Gin get decimated by a Nest of vampires. Especially not a Nest so well-organized that they've managed to work their way into the upper-ranks of Yokohama's society; especially a Nest that has a blessed hunter assigned to dispatch it.

"Twenty."

"Well," Michizou says without thinking. "Fuck."

Gin nods in agreement.

Michizou could maybe take out twenty humans, if he divided them up between Gin and himself. Maybe just by himself, if he had enough ammunition and a calling for suicide. He's not going to inflate the numbers just to appease his ego.

Vampires, though. They're the most common because they're harder to kill. Demons can be exorcised, spirits can be put to rest — but vampires live on as blights across the realm of the living. Refusing to live, but refusing to die. They feast off the blood of their victims, living in the night because the sunlight does not welcome their damned soulless bodies.

That explains the stake, Michizou supposes. While a staple of any hunter's bag, it likely should've been an indication of why Gin was here.

"How'd you track them down?" Michizou asks, and Gin gestures for him to thumb through the folder.

Michizou refuses, though maybe that's because he'd like to hear the soft lilt of Gin's voice again. He thinks he's incredibly selfish for that, and Gin agrees based on their eye roll.

"I've known where you are since you disappeared," Gin murmurs, avoiding eye contact. For some reason, the action reminds him of when Higuchi did the same, just earlier today. The connection sends some spark to his head, but Michizou doesn't know why. "I didn't think… Anyway. The few hostages they had got turned during the big ordeal. Now they've been… here."

"They're… nepo babies who got turned into vampires and have since been partying out their desires in excess, unable to realize that they really don't get pleasure from anything?" Michizou finishes, though he thinks he encapsulates the concept in more words than Gin would've used.

Gin nods.

"So you're wanting to play the long game," Michizou continues, picking up where Gin leaves off. Like he never left their rhythm. "Get into their circle. Draw 'em out. Kill 'em?"

"And burn, if we can," Gin adds softly.

Michizou nods this time, processing the sentiment in stride. The killing of vampires is relatively simple, if you can get past their elevated strength, increased speed and stamina — the whole supernatural shtick. They can be staked through the heart, so long as the stake has wraps of blessed red thread — it's supposed to symbolize the threads of fate, or something; from the lore Michizou's heard, the fates are able to finally grasp the dregs of the vampire's errant soul, pulling them back down for their judgment instead of inhabiting a body it already lost. They can be burned — but it's hard to knock out an already undead creature long enough to burn it alive, since the flames need to be such a high temperature. And they can be decapitated, but decapitation is difficult still when vampires don't like you close, and are usually able to bite you if you're in close enough range for a garrote.

"And you want my help… not just because you want to draw them out, but because you want to do it by pretending to be a university student since that's where they party, you just don't know how because you've never attended public school and still can't take out a whole Nest by yourself?"

Based on the scowl he gets in response, Michizou doesn't know if he gets it completely off the mark or spot on. Gin crosses his arms, inky black hair fanned out around them as they sit cross-legged on the dirty barn floor.

There are signs of a scuffle here too, so Michizou imagines at least one of the vampires has already been dispatched. Michizou also imagines that this supposed group of vampires is probably on high alert, now that one of their own has been killed by a mystery hunter. Michizou wonders where Gin dragged the body off too.

"Okay," Michizou says, even though he should probably tell Gin to get the hell away from him. "Okay. Yeah. I can work with that."

"You owe me so, so many movie nights," Higuchi says, staring up at the ceiling like she can't believe what she's hearing.

Except she definitely can, and Michizou knows this because she's already agreed. She's just… in denial about her own agreement. Probably because it's a bad idea.

Maybe Michizou's a good salesman. That makes him feel slightly more scummy than it ought too.

"You're really saving my ass here," he admits to her, and that much is true.

"Uh-huh," Higuchi says blankly. The ceiling doesn't give her many answers. At least this time, she looks her normal self — not hungover and not frantically cleaning. There's homework packets spread out across her counter, though some of the pages are stuck together and smudged by raspberry jam. Way too sweet to be a murder scene. "That's why I'm now roommates with your ex-girlfriend."

"We're not — it wasn't —" Michizou starts, and promptly cuts himself off.

It's good for the story, so Higuchi can believe whatever she wants to believe. Gin is… something, to him. Michizou and them never really got around to figuring out what. They'd been content to call it partners, and he'd been content to call Gin his, and maybe the feeling was mutual until he disappeared into thin air.

It's hard to describe your life to someone who barely knows anything about it. The lies just get worse and worse, don't they?

"Gin just… wants a fresh start," Michizou finishes lamely. It's completely untrue. He thinks Gin has never been as at home as they are at work, which is frankly disturbing when he thinks about it.

"Uh-huh." Higuchi doesn't believe it, either. "I cannot believe you talked me into this. You're — just — gah. Oh my god. There's nothing I can do about you now, is there?"

Michizou grins. "Nope!"

"They better not be weird," Higuchi groans.

Michizou does not have the heart to explain to her that he's never encountered someone weirder than Gin Akutagawa.

"How's rooming with Higuchi going?" Michizou asks, standing up to his full height and wiping sweat off his brow. There are splinters in his thumbs and the uncomfortably, slimy yet congealed feeling of undead blood all over him, but hey, why not make time for work and play?

Gin grunts, across the room with her own stake in hand, the oversized band t-shirt across their muscular frame far more reminiscent of a band that Higuchi enjoys. She stumbles to the side, practically hissing at the pathetic moan of pain that the vampire gives before Gin — with all the strength in those lithe, toned arms that Michizou watches keenly — pushes the stake through the heart in one swift motion.

There are spurts of blood, but Gin doesn't seem to mind.

Michizou thinks the police will, in a little while. They are in Michizou's math building, and someone definitely tripped an alarm.

Young vampires are the most stupid, after all. Who wants to hang out in a university math building after hours? It's possibly the worst place to drink booze that Michizou can think of. Then again, they invited Gin out too, so her plan is working, and the vampires are stupid.

When Gin stands to their full height, it's with an agitated sigh and an eye roll. Since they're on the job, or maybe because they just feel like it, Gin starts sighing. In the low-light, it's semi-difficult to follow the motions, but Michizou finds he's just as practiced as he used to be.

"Is now really the time?" Gin asks.

Michizou shrugs. "I mean, when's a better time? You're kinda hard to find, man. Sometimes I think you might be the vampire — can't find you during the day light."

Then again, that might be more of a testament to the activities they usually get up to than any sort of vampirism.

"Yes, because I have work to be doing. You're just here as collateral."

"Ouch," Michizou says, but there's no heat behind it.

No matter what Gin says, she went out of their way to track Michizou down to get his help. Even if Gin wants to spin it as a last resort, Michizou can think of at least three other hunters in this area who would be better-suited to a mass-operation than a runaway.

Hell, Michizou's passed at least one hunter on his way to his psychology class. He'd say he imagined it, but no one willingly imagines Professor Kouyou Ozaki. He wonders why Gin alone was assigned this mission.

Michizou ambles over, collecting the stake from the offending vampire, as Gin does the same — collecting the rest of the gear. The police will test the blood they find, both the victim's and the perpetrator's. Likely, they'll have Gin in the database already. And then someone who knows something about something will come in and sweep it all under the rug.

"It's been fine," Gin signs abruptly, Michizou only catching the movement from the corner of his eye. Gin's gray eyes are ever-piercing, accentuated by the white of their mask and the darkness of their surroundings. It's hard to look away whenever he catches them. "She's nice. How did you meet her?"

Not the question Michizou was expecting. He blinks, half-way through the process of tossing the stakes back into the tattered duffel-bag they'd stuffed in the building during lectures earlier, in anticipation.

"Uh, she was in one of my classes," Michizou says. It's close enough to the truth, he thinks, which Gin would not like. To be honest, he and Higuchi don't really talk about it.

There's something about meeting a girl — your best friend, now — at a party, getting her name only after you've exchanged spit, and then learning she's definitely in love with someone else, even if you don't know who. Just a bit awkward, and Michizou still pointedly avoids going to Tanizaki's apartment, because he really only sees what happened on that counter before anything else.

That, and Tanizaki's been getting sorta hot-and-heavy with this guy, and Michizou wants to stay out of that to the best of his ability.

Gin gives him a flat look.

Michizou sighs. "It's complicated, alright? But really, she's a good friend. I thought you guys would get along, since she has that spare room. It all works out in the end, right? Why do you have to worry about the semantics?"

"Because I don't trust where your dick's been," Gin signs easily. It's impressive how well they're able to convey tone across their gesturing, which is indeed meant to be insulting.

Michizou has to give her that, tilting his head in semi-agreement. "Look, just — you're so bad at taking a gift horse in the mouth. I'm just trying to help out."

"Uh-huh."

They leave it at that for the night, slipping into one of the foliage-lined pathways as the bright lights of sirens encircle the building.

"Hey, Tachihara. Would you say I was losing it if I asked you about several impossibilities like they were totally real?"

Higuchi's voice comes through tinny over the phone, and Michizou blearily looks out his dorm window at the rising sun. The light is beginning to flood through the curtains in shades of red, orange, and pink. He'd have half a mind to appreciate it if he'd gotten more than two hours of sleep before his phone started blaring some K-pop song Higuchi set as her ringtone.

"Huh?" is all Michizou manages to get out, choking on his own spit as he does so.

The bed is empty next to him, which he should have expected. He and Gin hadn't… nothing happened, but falling asleep next to them has always been comforting for Michizou in a way he doesn't know how to describe. Waking up alone still stings as badly as it had the first time.

"Like, say," Higuchi begins. Her voice isn't shaking, but it is strained. "My roommate sprinkling black dust over all the window sills and muttering about monsters? Or, y'know, co-opting the fridge and my craft room for what looks suspiciously like blood? I mean, this could be a nightmare. My ma said I used to sleep-walk. Maybe I'm sleep-calling?"

"Your imagination knows no bounds," Michizou says bluntly, before wincing. Right. Right. Fuck.

All he wanted was a decent night's sleep.

"I'll be there in ten," Michizou tells her, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and rubbing some of the sleep from his eyes as sunlight tries to spill through closed lids.

"Okay." She shouldn't trust him that much. Michizou's stomach rolls as he realizes his house of cards is in jeopardy.

Michizou and Higuchi sit cross-legged in a salt circle in the middle of Higuchi's living room. The apartment shows signs of a struggle, but a struggle with laundry instead of any monsters; there are clothes strewn about the furniture, and even the lamp is sporting a hoodie over it.

Gin's out of sight for now — probably in the kitchen, mixing up some other combination of herbs. Michizou hasn't had the chance to ask why yet, but he caught flashes of Gin tossing spices out of Higuchi's cupboards with a sharp look, threatening Michizou's hands if he interrupted the process.

"So… vampires," Higuchi says conversationally, awkwardly. Her nails are digging into her ankles where she holds her legs, rocking back and forth somewhat to self-soothe.

"I think this is quickly becoming more than just a vampire problem," Michizou says. It only occurs to him as Higuchi's eye twitches that his sentence is not, in fact, a comforting thought. "Salt is more for, y'know, demons, hellhounds, the like. The occasional —"

"Shut the fuck up."

Michizou blinks.

He thinks it's the first time Higuchi has ever snapped at him, and he's been aggravating since the day she met him.

Michizou nods in compliance, and Higuchi lets out an anxious breath. As she exhales, it turns into a ragged laugh, staring up at her ceiling similarly to Michizou twenty minutes ago. "You're — and this — what the fuck is going on, Michizou Tachihara?"

Well, that's a good question.

He smiles, the motion coming off far more sardonic than anticipated. "I wish I knew."

"You could start by telling me how the hell you're involved in all of this!"

He's reminded, suddenly, that Higuchi didn't snap like this when she was told about the vampires. It isn't the vampires that are concerning her, it's the inability to assess the situation. Does she…?

Has Michizou been blind to it this whole time?

He mimics her awkward laugh from earlier, but the cold-shoulder and glare he's getting in response are particularly building the dog-house he'll be sleeping in for the next few weeks. "Gin's a hunter," he explains, gesturing vaguely to the dead-silent hunter in the kitchen. "She… wanted help. I don't know what else you want me to say."

He thinks he's repeating himself a lot lately. He thinks his house of cards was so — so delicately — he had what he wanted — Michizou thinks he wants Gin the hell out of his life, at this moment.

(They're not the reason his lies collapsed. It would've happened eventually, Michizou tells himself. Higuchi's smarter than he gives her credit for — she'd realize eventually that his stories didn't add up, that Michizou doesn't know half of what he claims too. Still, shattered trust — he didn't realize how much Higuchi's friendship meant to him until —)

"Stand up for yourself," Higuchi says. her voice is seething, jaw tensed. Her nails are about to break skin on her ankle. "I think I deserve that much, at least."

Of all the late-nights, the hangovers, the crammed study-sessions — Higuchi is right. If there's anything she deserves, it's everything Michizou has to offer.

The problem with that is that everything Michizou can offer is laced with the same poison-slick coating of his own twisted tongue, his own damned conscience.

"Gin's a hunter. She's — something must've tipped him off. And now… we're under lock-down. That's all I know so far."

"Gin isn't a normal hunter," Higuchi shoots back, and the venom in her tone at Michizou's perceived condescension is apparent and sharp. "Why are they going after the salt? It's a vampire nest. Red thread on a stake — that's so antiquated. And she won't tell me!"

The last part is yelled, and Higuchi gets an irritated huff from the kitchen. If Michizou had to guess, Gin's putting together quick hex bags to put around the various entrances to the apartment.

Except — "Huh?" is all Michizou is able to verbalize, tilting his head to the side.

Higuchi usually tells him, when he does that, you look like a dog. This time, her playful streak is buried somewhere underneath the fear.

"You're —"

"You know, Michi," Higuchi starts, too quick for Michizou to do anything but flush at the shortened version of his given name, "I knew you were lying about a couple of things. I mean, I get that. I knew it was a bad idea to get roomy with your ex. That's like, common sense. But this? Do you — I mean — did I not —"

"I'm just a liar," is what pours out of Michizou's mouth, the admission coming out too fast, before his brain can really catch up with his words. He winces. It wasn't the admission he was going for, either.

Higuchi scoffs. He thinks she's been spending too much time with Gin. The sun is coming up properly now.

Vampires can't hunt during the day, but they aren't the only creatures to roam the mortal plane. Michizou's starting to get an uneasy feeling — a delayed uneasy feeling, because maybe his panic should've been there since he woke up to K-pop.

"Yeah, I knew that too," Higuchi huffs.

She starts picking at the now-opened crescent-shaped scratch in her ankle — Michizou gently pushes her hands away from her ankle, which Higuchi doesn't fight. He doesn't have time to understand the implications before Gin's back in the living room, tossing two wrapped-up cloth bags at his chest.

"You chose the worst university possible," is all Gin mutters, before pointing decisively at the living room window. Michizou takes his instructions at face-value, standing up on aching legs.

Gin tosses some of the hex bags at Higuchi, too, and adds, "I told you oregano would work just as well."

"It does not," Higuchi sighs, but takes the bags without a fight either.

Michizou really needs to get filled in, he thinks, because the last time he checked, Higuchi didn't —

Except Michizou doesn't think his house of cards wants to deal with its own impending destruction right now, so he keeps his mouth shut tight to keep from gaining the ire of the two people in the world most deserving to give it.

"Can I get the SparkNotes?" Michizou asks, once they're all comfortably sitting in the salt circle in the middle of the living room.

There's even a little salt path to the bathroom, just to ensure that they can stay comfortably. Higuchi's got an entire buffet of snacks next to her, of which Gin has taken some to munch on. It seems their sweet tooth hasn't gotten better since Michizou saw it.

Gin stares. It occurs to Michizou that Gin has not had any formal education whatsoever, and as such, has never had any use for SparkNotes or summaries.

"Sure," Higuchi says. It's clear they're skirting around the subject of each of their secrets. "You killed some vampires, those vampires told their friends, one of those friends knows a witch, that witch knows a demon, that demon really has a bone to pick with you, and since we're at my apartment, it's my problem."

"So… vampires, a witch, and a demon," Michizou lists off.

Higuchi and Gin nod.

"Well," Michizou says, not for the first time in the last few days. "Fuck."

He takes a consolation bag of chips from the pile, and Higuchi grabs the television remote to press play on the already queued-up rom-com.

In the end, their hasty, four-in-the-morning preparations are of no use, because their assailants don't bother to attack under the guise of daylight. It's a day spent watching movies, eating snacks, and pretending like Michizou isn't a liar, Higuchi doesn't have secrets, and that Gin has ever had a normal friend in their life.

It takes about four movies before Michizou snaps under the pressure of Gin's gaze boreing into the back of his head, a feeling he has only come to anticipate when he's done something wrong.

"You're a witch?" he asks casually, tossing the TV remote back into Higuchi's lap, where crumbs of chips and popcorn kernels have already made their home.

She's got her head pressed into Michizou's shoulder, drowsy and half-awake like she always is during mid-day. If Higuchi can do anything, it's nap like a champion. He envies her for it often. "Mm," she starts, twisting to get better airflow.

He and Higuchi have had movie nights before, which he supposes this counts as, but something about the physical contact right now is lighting his blood on fire. Or maybe that's a curse. It really is up in the air.

"My ma was," Higuchi answers eventually, hesitation painting her tone. Gin's uncomfortably against Higuchi's other side — like they want the contact, but they want to be as far from Michizou as possible. How long has it been, since Gin had contact like that? Non-sexual but intimate? Does he know how to cope with it? "For a while. I used to think, y'know, it was all bullshit. Then my sister got sick."

"You have a sister?" Michizou asks, shocked at the information he hadn't known.

Actually — now that he thinks about it, what does he know about Higuchi from before she moved here?

His mind comes up almost blank. It's hard to think that Higuchi would keep secrets, but then again — not many people would guess that he, a party-boy and a flirt, would be a monster hunter-for-hire with a list of sins long enough that even the Devil would tire of him.

Higuchi hums. Michizou notices that Gin is holding the part of Higuchi's ankle with the new scratch in it, and that Higuchi's hand rests haphazardly on top of Gin's. Prevention and affection all in one, he supposes. "Yeah. Ma told me it wasn't enough, just her. Y'know, learned the ins and outs. But… I dunno. I thought I could do better than that, some backwater witch in some little town."

"That's how my brother and I got here," Gin adds quietly. The admission surprises Michizou as much as it does Gin, it seems, from how startled she looks from her own words. They clear their throat awkwardly, but Higuchi's attention is hooked.

It occurs to him that he never expected Gin and Higuchi to become actual friends. Maybe some selfish part of him wanted to keep both halves of his lives separate, untouched by the other. He's startled by how natural they look together.

"He made a deal," Gin explains slowly. It might be the first time they've ever said the words aloud. "Gave up part of his soul in exchange. I don't know the details. But he comes when he's called and I… do what pays the best."

"The Akutagawa," Higuchi mutters, her eyes widening in realization.

The connection is in the eyes, Michizou knows. He'd been shocked the first time he'd seen the siblings side-by-side, so fluid in their typically-stilted movements that they looked almost inhuman. The older Akutagawa has a reputation — everyone who knows anything about the supernatural of the world know of the Akutagawa. The Reaper. The Black Dog.

There's some substance to the rumors. Michizou's worked with the siblings several times, on jobs. He's always preferred working with Gin and Gin alone.

Gin dips his head in agreement.

Both their heads turn to him afterward — as though Michizou's required to share his sins because they shared theirs.

He supposes he is.

"I just wanted to leave," Michizou murmurs. It's true enough. He's wanted to leave every home he's ever known. His original family, who blamed him for his brother's death. His new family with the Hunting Dogs, but they were always too sadistic about their hunting for Michizou to truly understand what it is they wanted from him. And the home he'd found in hunting with Gin.

Even here, living comfortably at university, this blossoming thing with Higuchi — sometimes Michizou wants to run away from that, too. Return back to hunting, put his normalcy behind him.

Maybe he's doomed to never be satisfied with what he has. He'd be lying if he said part of this world's collision — his Gin and his Higuchi, as selfish and possessive as that sounded — didn't excite him a bit. To finally have the two in the same room, to understand both half of his world together.

(Even as he thinks it, he knows it's true. He's such a terrible person. They aren't his. And they deserve so much better than whatever affection Michizou can give, because he's shown time and time again how much his word is worth.)

If Gin and Higuchi think he's a liar here, too, they don't show it. Higuchi nuzzles further into shoulder, shocking Michizou out of his his self-deprecating spiral.

"Do you know how to hunt?" Gin asks quietly, eventually, when the silence has evened out into something comfortable.

Higuchi hums. The sound reverberates through Michizou's skin. It's more comforting than he anticipated. "The basics. Never had to hunt myself."

Gin considers this. "Good," is all he says. "We'll see at sundown."

"What, afraid I'll show you up?" Higuchi says, haphazard and, for once, confident in her competency, before she shoots up with wide eyes and goes, "Sorry! Sorry, I know I can't, I just, uh —"

Gin smiles, wry and affectionate. It occurs to Michizou that he wasn't here for half of their conversations. That maybe Gin has found a friend in Higuchi, too.

It feels oddly strange in his chest. Not in a bad way. He likes the idea of them getting along. Gin's never had many relationships — platonic or otherwise. Seeing them get comfortable with someone other than him or their brother is oddly heart-warming.

"We'll see," Gin says. "I've never met a witch who couldn't impress me. I don't think you'll break the pattern."

Higuchi's face flushes, the heat palpable even to Michizou (or maybe that's this weird feeling in his chest, still there and still beating). "Y — yeah. I guess we'll see."

"Stop flirting and watch the movie," Michizou huffs playfully, clicking play on the latest of their chick-flicks. He thinks this more is another generic, farm-boy and celebrity-girl type, but Gin immediately flicks her attention to the screen, as does Higuchi.

Gin will never admit it, but they're such a sucker for a bad movie.

Maybe, Gin even begins to nod off, their arm around Higuchi and clutching onto Michizou's shoulder. He takes it as more of a win than he should.

"You didn't mention you were that kind of witch!" Michizou shouts, his words barely crossing the room through the swirl of wind and flying objects and blood and the vampire currently trying to bite into his neck with their second-row of fangs.

Higuchi doesn't answer, of course, because she's busy floating in the middle of the room and causing all the floating objects and wind, her eyes rolled back fully to reveal unpitying whites, foreign words rolling off her tongue in an incantation.

Across the room, Gin — pushed up against the broken window sill, doing their damnedest not to get pushed out by the barely-corporeal creature in front of him — catches his eye and shrugs.

It's as good of a game plan as any, Michizou supposes, suddenly releasing the shoulders of his vampiric assailant to headbutt them. The force and shock of the movement startle the vampire enough for Michizou to push them away in their daze, getting his bearings once again.

Michizou picks up the nearest object he can find — Higuchi's collected shells in a glass jar — as the vampire shakes their head, staring back at him with the rage of a hungry, rabid animal.

The speed isn't what's startling, about vampires. Neither is the superior strength.

What has always startled him about vampires is how one-track-minded they are.

It's so focused on getting to Michizou, to kill or turn him by sinking their fangs into the soft flesh of his carotid artery, that it doesn't focus on any other inhibitions. Michizou gestures the creature forward, and it doesn't take any mind of the jar in his hand.

"Sorry, 'guchi," Michizou murmurs, swinging his arm forward as soon as he sees the vampire take a step — because as soon as his eyes process that, the vampire is already on him again, craning their unnaturally long neck to reach him, and the glass jar shatters as it comes into contact with the open maw of the vampire.

The creature cries out, but Michizou shoves the glass shards into their mouth further, the shells crunching as the sharp teeth come into contact them — but the thicker glass lid, lined with metal, doesn't shatter in its teeth, keeping the creature's jaw forced open even as their struggling opens lacerations and gashes against their gums.

Michizou averts his eyes in disgust, because — gross. Still, Michizou hooks his leg around the vampire's, their pained screeching and panicking keeping them from getting out of his simple hold. One of he hex bags is on the counter next to him, as he fumbles to reach the shelf — he shoves that in the creature's mouth, too.

He doesn't know what Gin put in the hex bags, but the vampire's tongue starts to smoke and blister, giving off a stench of cooked flesh so thick that Michizou almost vomits from the smell alone.

Yeah, they're going to be incapacitated for a while.

As Michizou stumbles away from his own assailant, he surveys the scene again — still windy, Higuchi is still chanting, and Gin is still struggling with the weird-creature-demon-ghost-thing and — ah, she's tossing him —

Michizou catches the stake with apparent ease, the red thread around it barely even tied on, but he doesn't hesitate as he drives the stake through the poor fuck's heart. The sizzling from their mouth stops, and they die with a pained cry on their lips.

(Shame, really. Michizou would pity them, but the secret to not dying as the undead is really simple — don't piss off the hunter hired to kill you.)

"Want help yet?" Michizou shouts. Higuchi is definitely going to need to find a new place after this.

Gin sends him a withering glare. They don't want his help, nor need it — he still reaches down to grab the hex bag in the dead vampire's mouth and tosses it to Gin, though, the throw helped by the direction of the spinning wind. They roll their eyes as they catch it, the other arm being used as a burning-chew toy for the spirit-demon-thing, but Michizou puts his attention back on Higuchi.

There's a witch here, somewhere. Michizou thinks the other witch has burrowed into the spirit realm like a coward, but Higuchi is intending to draw them out.

He thinks it's stupid how implicitly he trusts her to deal with such a thing, since he didn't know she was a witch until several hours ago.

He also thinks it's stupid that he doesn't really care.

After four vampires, one witch, one ghost, and one demon — which means their initial assumption count was off —, Michizou's tending to a shallow cut on Higuchi's arm while she's hopped-up on the counter, and Gin sends one infuriated text to Hirotsu saying they were taking payment for half the job, because the job is beginning to encompass more than she was even paid to do.

Michizou can't fault that, and he isn't exactly going to complain about being off this job.

He thinks he's sick of college campuses, anyway.

"So," Michizou starts, low and upbeat to keep Higuchi's spirit up, but he doesn't know what to say after.

"So," Higuchi repeats. Her eyes look much better when they're not rolled up behind her head. Whatever it had taken to drag that witch out — the toll shows in the ghostly pallor of Higuchi's skin, how easily bruises have blossomed under her jaw and against the delicate shell of her ear, unable to be hidden by the blonde hair that frames her face.

There's no Gin for the moment — he's in the living room —, and it occurs to Michizou that he hasn't had the chance to talk to Higuchi privately since Gin's arrival.

He never asked how she was coping. If she wanted to be caught up in all of this.

And maybe his guilt would eat away at him, erode at the already-fragile shell of his morality, but Higuchi looks up — and it isn't somber, the look in her eyes.

It's elated, a grin stretching across her face that he's never seen before. Unrestrained. Unbound by any responsibility she might've had.

And he sees himself in it, too, mirroring the action — a grin unbound by the secrets that they've been keeping, isn't it?

"You have no idea how much I've been wanting to do that," Higuchi says, swiftly taking her half-treated arm out of his reach and using it to grab at Michizou's unkempt collar. The sun still isn't up yet, and the light above her sink is flickering just slightly. It gives her this otherworldly glow, exacerbated by their proximity as she brings Michizou closer. "I thought… you'd think I was a freak, or something."

Michizou snickers softly. "If you're a freak, so am I."

"I know," Higuchi says fondly. More affection than he deserves, but Michizou doesn't protest as Higuchi gently, slowly, brings him closer.

They haven't kissed since they first met. It's been his own personal decision since he found out that Higuchi's personal life has been in shambles.

But Michizou is only a man, and Higuchi is one of the most beautiful people he's ever seen — and one of two people in the entire world that is willing to take him at his worst and at his lies, and he only feels relief surge through him as Higuchi's chapped lips meet his own.

They sit there longer than they should, simply relishing the other's company. Higuchi isn't a gentle kisser — it's in stark contrast to every other on-sight thing about her. Michizou's greedy like he's always been, and he likes the way his body presses against hers. He thinks it brings more comfort than anything else — like maybe, maybe, there's somewhere that Michizou actually belongs.

Someone clears their throat.

Michizou should be embarrassed, but he moves away from Higuchi with a lazy grace and glances toward Gin, who doesn't look all too upset about the situation. (Which is a far cry from several years ago, when she did threaten to kill him. Michizou wonders where their possession went. Or maybe they were both stupid kids.)

"Am I interrupting something?" Gin asks quietly, glancing between them. He's holding his phone up, showing only Hirotsu's contact and a message history that Michizou can't read from there.

Higuchi shakes her head. More of her hair gets in her face, and the action seems to semi-pain her, but she doesn't complain about it. "Just decompressing while you were gone."

There seems to be an understanding between the two that Michizou isn't privy too, which is unfortunate considering Michizou is the one to introduce them to each other.

"What'd Hirotsu say?" Michizou asks, changing the subject before Gin has any other witty remarks. It's annoying, how easily he slips back into the role of a hunter.

Gin shrugs. "He wasn't shocked. We're getting half the pay. The media is going to be all over this."

She gestures vaguely to the damage to the apartment, including the corpses strewn across the living room. Michizou assumes the only reason the cops haven't gotten here yet is because Hirotsu pulled some strings to give them some more time.

It's not like Michizou would get any charges, as soon as the Special Operations Division got involved, but he also doesn't want to spend the night in the holding cell, as he's done before. That was an interesting mission.

"You're not getting your security deposit back," Michizou murmurs, to which Higuchi groans.

Oh, right. He finishes lining the cut in band-aids, because… well, it isn't a deep enough gash to require bandages proper.

"I hope you're willing to drop out," Gin says, amusement painting his tone as the tattered apartment's sheer amount of damage is shown through the flickering lights.

Higuchi sighs. "Yeah. I'll get a bag."

She hops off the counter, squeezing Michizou's hand comfortingly — when did she even grab it? Why is his hand cold without it? — before slipping off to her bedroom, the door wide open considering half the hinges are now missing.

Gin turns their gaze to Michizou, with the weight of their history painted so clearly across their face that Michizou can't help but swallow.

The last thing he wants to do is disappoint Gin. He's already broken their trust once, disappearing in the dead of night, but to deny their request again — it's going to break him.

"Are you?" she asks, and Michizou — blinks.

He was not expecting that.

Actually, he doesn't know what he was expecting. Is he willing to drop out?

Michizou expects his answer, then, to be — no. I spent years running from this, and I'll spend years more. I don't want more blood on my hands. But the words that come out of his mouth are, "I already have a go-bag at my apartment. I can be there and back in under twenty."

Gin hums. Her hand twitches, as though he wants to reach out and hold Michizou like they used to. Gin does no such thing. "I thought you didn't…"

For the first time, Gin trails off uncertainly.

Oh. She doesn't think… I don't…

"Well," Michizou starts, unsure where he's going even as the words pour out of his throat, the background sounds of Higuchi digging through her bedroom comical given the situation. "There's definitely more adrenaline in killing monsters than there is in calculus tests."

Gin smirks. "And which are you better at?"

Michizou rolls his eyes, falling into a familiar routine that maybe, just maybe, he's been craving for years. "Depends on the monster to calculus ratio. Actually, have we looked into calculus as a demonic summoning ritual?"

"You're in, then?"

Michizou grins, fluttering his lashes at her like some showgirl. "I don't think I have a choice now, dearest Gin."

There's a silence. Then, Gin's quiet, "There's always a choice."

Michizou considers this, and considers the way he brought down the mood all by himself. Not in a bad way, he supposes. "I think," he starts, low, quiet enough for even his sins to listen in, "at the end of the day, I'll always choose you."

He's startled by his own honesty.

The one time he didn't choose Gin — it led him to Higuchi, didn't it?

Before the unyielding honesty can get under his skin. Michizou plasters on a bigger, fake smile. "Anyway. Higuchi!" he shouts.

"Yeah? We're not bringing the fucking stand-mixer!" she shouts back for… some reason. Michizou will miss the stand-mixer.

"How much do you like sleeping on the floor in weird old garages and getting paid an absolutely eye-searing amount of money?"

"Good on the latter half, wary of the first!"

"Cool. You're gonna love meeting some of the other hunters," Michizou finishes, and he thinks — for once in his life, he thinks he's content.

Which is strange, considering the viscera and gore around him. And the stand-mixer that will be abandoned, and likely a background image on whatever film they put on the morning news about the grizzly college murder scene.

Gin gives him a pointed look. "You want to meet up with Naomi?"

The undertone is clear. I thought she was out of the fold, too.

And she was, until Michizou was at one of Tanizaki's parties a year or so back and had to deal with a stray shape-shifter who wanted an easy way out. "Yeah, a bit," Michizou grins sheepishly.

As Higuchi walks out of her bedroom, she's got her own duffel-bag slung over her shoulders, and a small, familiar, creepy-looking demon plushie in her arms.

Michizou's contentment turns into confusion, especially as Higuchi tosses the plushie at Gin — who catches it with ease — and rewards Higuchi with a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek.

He considers tonight. Recalculates several things he's seen.

Then, back to business as usual. "Hey!" Michizou whines. "Where's my kiss on the cheek?"

"Did you take down a witch in the spirit realm?" Gin asks, raising a haughty brow.

"No," Michizou answers, sticking his lip out like a pouting child. Gin doesn't hesitate before planting the dirty pad of their thumb against the inside skin of his lip — of which Michizou yanks away immediately. "You are so weird and gross."

"Both of you are," Higuchi says, affection doting her tone.

With Higuchi's stuff taken care of, and the gear-bag already gathered by Gin and sitting by the front door, the trio make their way to the apartment's only proper exit.

"Does this mean we're like, a thing now?" Michizou asks aloud. He figures — well, it's best to clarify, right.

Gin rolls her eyes again, lightly tapping him upside the head. "Don't let it get to your head."

At the same time, Higuchi says, "Only if it means there's another vote to override your movie choice."

That isn't really an answer, but Michizou's face still flushes and he figures — what the hell?

He's never been comfortable living in a box anyway. College student, monster hunter, runaway — all boxes that he's lamely broken the mold of, making something of himself that puts 'em all to shame. Or maybe it's Higuchi and Gin that bring his best out, but what does it matter?

No one else needs to understand him, and somehow, Michizou thinks he's found his forgiveness.

"You still don't get to drive, though," he tells Gin.

He pointedly dodges the throwing star she throws at his head, which Higuchi calmly pries out of the wall without hesitation.

It's the end of what Michizou thought was his beginning, but something tells him this isn't going to be something he wants to run away from anytime soon.