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“Are you seriously thinking of reaching out to Overwatch?”
Mizuki was quiet; despite the mask obscuring half of his face, his expression wasn't going to slip by Kiriko so easily. After some silent consideration, he spoke up, eyes catching hers for a second only to look away in the same beat. “Couldn't hurt to ask them for some help.”
As much as she wanted to hold in the sigh of frustration, Kiriko knew it was better if he heard it. “Overwatch isn't just some group of friends we can call over to lend a hand at any time. They're an organization, and one with a complicated history at that.”
Mizuki said nothing more, and Kiriko knew her point had landed.
“We shouldn't bring this up at the party, honestly, don't even bring it up to Wuyang either. I know you wanna be closer to him, but you know as well as I do that it's not that simple whenever Overwatch is involved.” Her bronze gaze drifted away from his disappointed face as she took in the sight of the venue. It wasn't as large as she was expecting it to be, so she would likely have less places to hide if things became overwhelming. Dealing with a lot of Overwatch members at once always irked her, their dynamics often getting under her skin for reasons she knew well enough to be wise about avoiding them. Of course, she only came because this was important to Mizuki and he was her friend, but maybe there was another reason, a reason she wasn't going to be honest with herself about until the person in question actually appeared.
20 years old was quite a milestone, and it was Wuyang’s milestone in particular that was being celebrated. Naturally, as one of the youngest and most likeable members of Overwatch, he was gifted with quite a big celebration, including friends, family, and of course most of Overwatch’s agents, especially the younger ones. Mizuki could have been considered a VIP guest with the way he had been dating Wuyang for nearly a year, and while Kiriko wasn't the biggest fan of their horrendous habit of PDA, she didn't have an issue with Wuyang himself, after all he was rather funny at times, and she took every opportunity she could to train with him whenever their paths crossed. This party on the other hand would be a different story. First of all, it was on the beach, because of course the birthday boy wanted it to be near the water, and second of all, it was packed full of people that she did mind the company of. The beach area itself wasn't entirely where the focus of the party was, but it was nevertheless too open for Kiriko's tastes, far too exposed and easy to chance upon people who would try to talk to her as if they already knew everything about her. No thank you, it's bad enough when she does it…
Decorations were spread around in what seemed to be a rushed yet earnest attempt at making the place look appropriately fun. The beach theme was rather obvious already, but there were some other items that seemed to be on the more neutral “ambiguous party with ambiguous guests” side. Along the beach was the main building, a one story structure with a large glass wall that faced the ocean, said wall being a window to the inside as well, giving a decent view of the large room where a few people mingled at a round table. The roof of the building slanted up into a triangle that was just low enough not to make room for a second floor. There was another smaller building behind it, but this was simply a standard beachside bar, at least, it was obviously going for that vibe when in reality it only sold juice and shakes, no alcohol. Despite the summer heat, the chill from the ocean air was plenty cooling in contrast, Kiriko figured she wouldn't need to take off the light blue jacket she wore, even if she chose to stay outside. Naturally, Mizuki wasn't allowed to wear that big hat, it would have looked ridiculous in a place like this. Instead, he kept a more simple straw hat on, something that at the very least aligned with the vibes of the party. As the seasons rolled with time, so did Kiriko's style, and she had let her hair grow out, bleaching it for the summer and often keeping it up with a rather unique hat that she wore, one adorned with large, floppy fox ears. It wasn't exactly giving “beach party” but it was close enough to give summer fun, so she opted to wear it without a second thought. Her pants were on the baggy side around this time of year, the early summer where days weren't quite as long yet but still outrageously hot. Shorts wouldn't be a part of her wardrobe rotation until a week or so later.
As she remained a step ahead of Mizuki, her eyes swept across each individual guest that she could identify. Not her. Not her. Not her. Maybe she's in that building. Good, stay in there.
Her hand gripped the gift bag she held, squeezing the flimsy handles as if they'd escape. It's just a few hours, she reminded herself. Hiding her emotions had become particularly easy with time, and she had no doubt in her mind she would be continuing to use this skill throughout the duration of the party.
Upon arriving within the general vicinity of everyone else (because Mizuki thought showing up an hour late would be “hot” to Wuyang, apparently) it took some time for the two of them to split off, with every other guest eagerly saying hello and how are you. Once Wuyang himself appeared, Kiriko gladly took her cue to vanish from Mizuki’s side.
Genji was at this party, and while Kiriko would have been fine with sticking by his side throughout most of it, people always seemed to find her more approachable when he was around her, and thus more likely to talk to her. Needless to say, that wasn't going to cut it. A few other people Kiriko didn't mind the company of were here, too, such as Hana and Brigitte, but Hana was usually too social for her liking and Brigitte was always cracking jokes that everyone else but Kiriko seemed to understand.
The next few hours were spent rotating between hiding spots on the beach. Behind the beachside bar, she would sit in a rather convenient hammock where people seemed to understand she wanted to be left alone. When the bar became too noisy, she fled to a closet inside the main house where she would sit on the floor, shut the door, and play on her phone for a while. Eventually it was time for things like opening gifts and cutting cake, and although Kiriko knew Mizuki would be annoyed at her for this, she still took to hiding, now moving outside as it had gotten darker, and taking up a place that was just out of sight enough to be easily overlooked. Light bulbs were hung up around trees and poles, giving the beach a decent bit of light, but closer to the water was where it darkened drastically, and Kiriko was able to wrap herself up in a blanket, recline in a pool ring, and keep to herself in the sand as she watched the sun’s gradual descent in the distance. Cheering and laughter was loud in the house, and she shut it out.
Overwatch. She thought back about her conversation earlier with Mizuki.
The Hashimoto had taken a severe hit recently, a large victory for her and the Yōkai, but it ultimately meant nothing. Now, the Hashimoto had almost complete control over every district in Tokyo and every neighboring city. Her gang could chip away at the Hashimoto as much as they wanted, and yet in the end… they'd still be completely crushed were it to come down to a battle of numbers. The Hashimoto had only grown in size, perhaps not entirely in strength, but surely in influence. Meanwhile, the Yōkai still remained small, a mere flea on the back of their enemy, relentlessly biting at them as if it meant a damn thing.
There was no denying that they needed help, no denying that of all the people to turn to, Overwatch was one of their only options.
Still, Kiriko knew this too came with a cost.
Mizuki was initially quite cold towards Overwatch himself, but as he became close with Wuyang, he naturally warmed up to the idea, and before long, was bringing up the idea of teaming up with them constantly. As much as he tried to sell it as a “co-operation”, Kiriko knew that there was never going to be anything she could do to level the debt that the Yōkai would surely owe if they ever did seek Overwatch’s help.
Help.
Kiriko hated that word when it came to Overwatch.
Their definition of help always seemed to come with a few unforeseen complications, a few surprises that would only land on the shoulders of those involved while Overwatch itself evaded the brunt of the issue with the power of money, reputation, and sheer numbers. Of course, the Overwatch that once was had been toppled and reborn, things were different for them now, and yet Kiriko still knew better than to treat Overwatch as if it was the heroic group that it often claimed to be.
Not that they were villains, but they certainly had contributed their fair share of harm in this world, and the last thing Kiriko wanted was to be tangled up in that harm, regardless of which side she was on.
The Yōkai should not have to ask for Overwatch’s help to convince them to interfere with the Hashimoto. If they really cared, they'd take action themselves.
Simple as that. She had often reminded Mizuki of this when he would get into the idea of working with his beloved boyfriend, and while she couldn't blame him for the emotional part of it, she had to make sure he was thinking it through to its entirety.
If Overwatch really wants to be a bunch of heroes, then maybe it should turn its attention to the country that hasn't seen one in ages…
The party had ended almost an hour ago, and because fate was so humorously cruel to her, Kiriko was still stuck there. Mizuki insisted on staying to help clean up, his absolutely terrible excuse to spend more time with Wuyang. Fortunately, with most guests being gone now, Kiriko could let her guard down some. She was condemned to staying as late as Mizuki wanted, all because her motorcycle was his only available method of transportation. Sure, he could just ask someone else to drop him off later so that Kiriko could leave whenever she wanted, but that didn't necessarily sit well with her. Even in unfavourable situations like these, Yōkai would never abandon each other.
A campfire, and a rather mediocre one at that, had been put together in the sand some distance away from the home, far enough for Kiriko to keep herself separated from everyone else. Most of the cleanup had already been done, with a few stray decorations still hanging from the roof and the walls, dangling moderately in the breeze. The evening air was warm and quiet, Kiriko only stayed by the fire as a light source rather than to keep warm. Having undone her jacket, tying it around her waist at some point earlier to feel the ocean air on her shoulders, she remained crouched down in the sand next to the fire, occasionally checking her phone. Tilting her head up to the sky, she traced the lines of constellations that she recognised. Light pollution was, needless to say, abysmal back in Kanezaka, even with the mountains nearby where she could easily escape to if she so desired.
The fire crackled. The stealthy waves of the sea tumbled and foamed. The voices of several echoed into obscurity nearby.
A new sound, footsteps, made its sudden arrival. Kiriko felt her heart nearly drop when recognition sunk into her.
“So, you planned to go the whole party without talking to me?”
Kiriko closed her eyes, brows furrowing as she held in a sigh. Slowly, she tilted her head back down, debating with the handful of responses she could react with. “Not sure if I can tolerate five hours of Anran.” She bit into her lower lip to prevent herself from blatantly frowning before she opened her eyes again. The woman surely stood a few steps behind her, and so Kiriko would not give her the satisfaction of turning around and acknowledging her any further. Her stubbornness gave her a short victory here, for the footsteps shuffled and she watched as Anran walked past her, red sandals pattering through the sand. Kiriko’s gaze followed her until she turned around and met her eyes, to which she looked away promptly. Even when I’m trying to avoid you on purpose, you still insist on cursing me with your presence. She had to smile, out of spite, out of annoyance, a toothy grin that she knew Anran would immediately get the message of.
Surprisingly, the outfit she wore wasn’t all that different from what Kiriko had going on. A shorter top, albeit hers came with sleeves, and pants that were similarly baggy. Unlike the mismatch of blues, reds, whites, and greys that Kiriko’s outfit was covered in, Anran was only dressed in black, red, and orange, as she usually was. Her hair was still up in the style she often had it in, though it seemed like it was due for some slight adjustments, there was no doubt that she’d need to redo the hair ties here and there.
With a hand on her hip, Anran didn’t shy away from staring Kiriko down, the campfire making the glint of red behind her eyes glow more noticeably than usual. “Wanna spar?”
“No.” Kiriko stood up, rubbing sand off of her elbow–she couldn’t quite recall how it ended up there.
“Ready when you are,” Anran insisted with a grin, a smug one at that.
Making a mocking show of pretending to roll up her nonexistent sleeves, Kiriko readied her hands into fists, watching for the slightest flicker of movement that would indicate Anran’s first move. She was always the first to act, and so Kiriko easily anticipated it as always when Anran rushed her, raising a leg for a swift kick to the side.
Dodging the swing, Kiriko sidestepped, extending a fist for a half-hearted punch that she was already expecting to miss. Anran was quick to block the attack with her own hand, knuckles striking against each other roughly before both retreated back into their defensive stances. Some sand had been kicked up already and they had merely just begun.
“You knew I was going to be here,” Anran insisted as she threw out two consecutive punches, both of which Kiriko swiftly dodged. “Could have just not shown up if you really didn’t want to see me.”
“Would have been a bad friend to Mizuki if I didn’t.” Kiriko’s half truth would have sufficed with anyone else, but she knew Anran would catch it. There was some sort of comfort in the deniability she could take in letting Anran pick her feelings apart without having to openly admit to any of them herself, like it was so much easier to hear someone else say it for her.
“Expect me to believe that when you’re sitting out here alone and he’s in there having fun?”
“Obviously I’m not going to interrupt his time spent with Wuyang.”
A serious punch narrowly missed Kiriko’s face, leaving her with no other choice but to roll away in the sand before she could be exposed to another hit. While this was the right idea for a few moments, Anran managed to catch her midway with a foot, pushing into her shoulder with her heel.
With a satisfied huff, Anran met her gaze as Kiriko pulled herself back up to a kneel, eyes blazing now with newfound determination. “Are you even trying?”
It took an infuriating amount of strength for Kiriko not to toss a quick remark back at her. She redirected that fury into her hands as she pushed herself off of the ground with ease and aimed a powerful rush of the palm towards Anran’s torso. The hit struck an arm that managed to block it with not even a millisecond to spare, and within moments, the two exchanged a flurry of hits and blocks, fists and open palms colliding with wrists and forearms, sand being kicked up as they fought for any amount of give between each other. Blow for blow, neither could truly break the cycle and land a successful hit.
Do you ever burn out? Kiriko wanted to ask, just to distract her, potentially to get an upper hand despite knowing the exact sort of answer Anran would give her in return.
A strike aimed at the side of Kiriko’s head was caught with a firm hand, snatching Anran by the wrist before she pulled her into a jab straight to the stomach. Thoroughly startled, Anran staggered, her breath hitching in a gasp.
Finally, we’re getting somewhere. Kiriko felt herself smile at her small victory, but it was inevitably short lived as Anran curled her arm around Kiriko’s wrist before it could escape from her space. With a tug, Anran shoved her away, then swiftly closed the gap with a forceful kick that sent Kiriko face down into the sand.
“Okay, really though, were you even trying?” Her voice was clearly tinged with amusement, but Kiriko wasn’t unfamiliar with the hint of genuine concern that came with it.
Lifting her head from the sand, Kiriko slowly began to roll over only for Anran to step on her upper back, keeping her somewhat in place.
“No, you stay down there. Tell me what’s up first,” the other girl insisted immediately.
With a defeated sigh, Kiriko raised a hand to brush sand off of her face. “You know you’re barely even holding me down, right?”
Sighing, Anran withdrew her shoe from Kiriko’s back, but the weight was almost immediately replaced with her entire body, the woman now sitting down on top of her as if she were a bench. “Is this more to your liking?”
Face growing warm, Kiriko debated whether or not she wanted to try and push her off. Anran wasn’t particularly heavy, but of course she had to go and use that wording.
“Shut up,” she muttered, readjusting her arms to reduce the increased strain in her shoulders from the position she was now stuck in.
A mumble of amusement answered her before Anran’s serious tone returned. “Are you going to tell me now why you just avoided me for the rest of the party?”
Tense in the jaw, Kiriko kept quiet for a moment. Anran was being serious now, she definitely wanted to listen, but whether or not Kiriko wanted to give her something to listen to was a different story… But I can't pretend nothing is wrong, especially not with you. As everyone else read Kiriko's outline and filled in the gaps of the person she was in their own minds, only Anran could look past that, piecing together her behaviour with a frustrating amount of ease. Her strengths and weaknesses, a mess that Kirko herself wanted to redefine, yet were so effortlessly understood by Anran that it was like she could have known her since childhood.
“Hashimoto,” Kiriko murmured. “Hardly anywhere in Tokyo is safe now.”
Anran needed only a moment to absorb her words. “You know what I'm going to say.”
“And you know why I don't agree.”
Silence. The fire crackled on, the ocean waves ambled about in the distance. Kiriko turned her head to the side again, fighting the new ache that had started to form in her neck once again from her position. A part of her wished she could see the expression on Anran’s face but she knew it would only make her emotions worsen.
“You know, Kiriko, the Hashimoto have been working with Talon. It probably won't be long before our factions join forces anyways. I don't know why you're so against something that at the end of the day helps us both.” The familiar softness returned in her voice, easing Kiriko’s nerves with the sound alone, but equally frustrating her all over again because of the words themselves.
“Why should we have to wait until Talon’s involved for Overwatch to care?”
Her response was ice, the exact sort of ice she wished she could freeze Anran’s everpresent fire with, but she knew this girl was never one to back down. Too headstrong, and had all of the strength and intelligence to back it up. Kiriko hated it, especially because she knew she was the exact same way herself.
“Overwatch can't afford to be putting out fires all over the world right now. We're rebuilding, we're gathering intel, we have a lot of work to do before we can actually reach out and lend that helping hand to others in need.” Anran’s weight shifted somewhat, but whatever she was doing, Kiriko couldn't tell.
Just this once, she shamelessly rolled her eyes, knowing that nobody would be able to see it. “You have the means to go head to head with Talon at a moment’s notice. I don't wanna hear those excuses.”
“Would you rather Overwatch come to Japan’s aid just to fall apart in the process? Then what? Who would you turn to?” An edge was seared into Anran's tone, but she didn't quite raise her voice.
“Really now? Is sending in a few extra resources just too much to as–”
A warm hand pressed down into the back of Kiriko's head, forcing her to blink against the sand as her face was shoved down into the ground. Seriously?! What was that for?
“This is how you're acting right now, Kiriko, burying your head in the sand, pretending that you have the situation under control.” Her voice almost sounded dismissive, surprisingly cold for Anran’s usual style. “Why are you so afraid of asking for help?”
Working her jaw to get sand out of her mouth, Kiriko gave herself some time to reply. They'd had this conversation several times now, and it always ended up poorly, with Kiriko constantly wondering why she ever even allowed herself to become attached to this girl in the first place when neither of them wanted to budge on their views about the situation. Were these conversations about Overwatch and the Yōkai being had with anyone else, it would surely be a lot more straightforward, maybe she could even manage to get her point across to the other person… Yet, whenever she was involved, Kiriko almost felt as if she could never say enough, yet equally feared saying too much.
Unobtainable, Anran was. Not because she didn’t want her–spirits know Anran wanted her–but to be any closer would be to complicate everything else. Unregulated emotions would interfere with an already difficult relationship between factions, no matter how many benefits there would supposedly be to becoming official allies to Overwatch. Of all the people to catch her eye, it just had to be the one that she knew she couldn’t have, that she knew she could never afford to be too close to, yet would never be far away enough to be out of sight. Ever so slightly out of reach, and yet infuriatingly desirable. Just like fire, eyecatching in all of the right ways, untouchable in the end, something only to be watched from a distance rather than held in the palm of her hand. The worst part, Kiriko wouldn’t mind being a little burned, but fire could easily spread, and to allow her own guard to slip, no matter how cautious she believed she was being, would be to put the rest of her friends at risk.
“Mizuki obviously thinks you guys need our help. The only reason he doesn't outright ask is because he knows you would be mad at him.” Anran finally broke the silence again, for Kiriko had waded in it for too long, simmering in her thoughts.
Free to lift her head again, she rubbed the back of her hand to her jaw, discarding grains of sand that'd been clinging to her face. “Mizuki doesn't call the shots.”
“But even he knows that you guys obviously aren't managing on your own.”
“The problem isn't that we can't ask for help, Anran, it's that we can't ask Overwatch for help.”
“You don't have anyone else to turn to!”
“No, but why should we have to rely on Overwatch to try and ‘save’ us like they always think they can?” Kiriko pressed her hands into the sand, pushing herself up despite Anran still sitting on top of her. When she didn't budge, she straightened her arms quickly, almost trying to throw her off with a burst of momentum.
Finally complying, Anran stood up, sweeping an arm over Kiriko's shoulder as she was pulled up to a stand.
“I can stand up on my own,” came out in a mutter.
“Maybe, but is there anything wrong with me trying to help?”
It was far too easy for Kiriko to be caught up in the embrace she was pulled into, one arm still somewhat around her shoulder while the other found its place around her waist, both hands resting on her back as that inferno of a gaze maintained her own.
Looking off towards the beach, Kiriko could only keep her hands stiff to her sides for so long. “Didn't want your help.”
“But you needed it.” There was a bit of playfulness in that particular reply, noticeable enough to catch Kiriko's attention as she faced Anran again. The marks underneath her eyes stabilized her, making eye contact both easier and simultaneously difficult. Against her mind’s efforts to tell her to turn away, Kiriko let her hands find their way around Anran's waist instead, now holding onto her as well. A helping hand isn't what I need from Overwatch…
Kiriko couldn't hold herself back from letting her gaze land on Anran's lips, and the consequence was nearly immediate. With a breath, she leaned in to close the gap.
Anran’s reflexes caught her first, a palm coming up to Kiriko's mouth and blocking the gesture with a nervous half smile.
“You always regret it afterwards,” she reminded her, ensuring that she didn't move her palm away until Kiriko had clearly heard her.
Narrowing her eyes, Kiriko held back a groan of displeasure. “Give me a break. Let me have this.” Despite her statement, Kiriko didn't push forward again, instead opting to read Anran's expression, picking out the early signs of her shyness that she was rather skilled at bringing out of her. Red gently brushed her face, subtle, yet just enough for Kiriko to know it was there.
“Still so stubborn even when I'm trying to look out for you?” Anran sighed, her hand readily raising to Kiriko's chin again.
Freeing her left hand from Anran’s lower back, she slipped her palm against her wrist and easily intertwined their fingers, steadily lowering Anran's hand away from her face. “As if you don't want this too.”
Anran's expression faltered, her eyes tearing away off to the side as her embarrassment began to trample her. While they could go head to head in combat, fitness, and smartass remarks, Kiriko never lost the intimacy game. Anran was clearly the type to have never thought she of all people could be in love with someone, and yet she was fragile as a flower, collapsing so easily whenever Kiriko would get affectionate with her, especially when it was physical.
Knowing that she had already won, Kiriko moved a bit slower this time, casually closing the gap between them with a kiss that was particularly gentle. She kept Anran's hand locked to hers, claiming her position in the other woman's personal space, and welcoming her in return as she leaned into her touch, her kiss. The second she pulled away, a quiet whisper of “Kiriko” managed to escape just before they found each other's lips again and the rest of the beach became an irrelevant backdrop. A hand that once clung onto Kiriko's back wandered its way up to her neck, holding steady to the back of her head with a touch of delicacy that Kiriko knew particularly well. As obvious as it was that she wanted to be equally as expressive with her passion, Anran would constantly shy away from it, as if she knew that she wouldn't have it in herself to stop once she started. Fortunately, Kiriko had enough passion for the both of them, pressing her entire body up to her and dragging the two of them down with her weight. Steadily, they lowered to the sand, Kiriko keeping her hold on Anran secure enough to not let her abruptly drop, still leaning down to kiss her, leaving a few small bites on her lower lip in the process. Having taken the upper hand, Kiriko pulled away to take a few seconds just to admire the flustered look on the other woman's face.
Eyes half open, brows lowered in only the vaguest hint of frustration, Anran gazed up at her, back to the sand and an arm still wrapped around Kiriko, simmering flames in liquid form behind her eyes.
“You know someone could see us,” she pointed out, voice hushed.
Kiriko raised an eyebrow. “Like anyone's going to be paying attention?”
“You know how awkward it is to watch Mizuki and Wuyang go at each other's faces when they're in public!”
“Nobody is going to come over here,” Kiriko reassured her with a toss of her shoulders. “Everyone else as far as I can tell is still busy living it up in that house.” She couldn't actually tell what was happening behind those large windows, but she clearly saw the figures of the others, they were likely not looking for the pair.
“Are you sure?” The worry in Anran's voice had lifted already, but Kiriko knew the reason for the hesitation was always going to be much harder to dispel.
No longer in the mood to try and get her worked up, Kiriko lifted Anran slightly, giving her the space to sit up properly before she released her and pushed herself away, half leaning over in the sand, head turned in the opposite direction. I can't keep doing this to myself. I should have walked away.
“Kiriko.” The silence returned quickly after it had been broken. Kiriko didn't even bother turning to acknowledge her, to look at her. After a minute without response, Anran tried again. “Kiriko, what is it that you really want, if not Overwatch’s help with the Hashimoto?”
“That’s the thing, Anran, we could use Overwatch’s help, I just don’t want them to interfere with the Yōkai.”
A pause of noticeable silence held in the air, long enough for Kiriko to realise the campfire was getting quiet as it was close to dying out by now.
“That… doesn't make any sense,” Anran spoke up at last.
Kiriko finally turned to face her again, shooting a guarded glare over her shoulder. “Well, if you want me to explain it, maybe you should listen instead of trying to change my mind every time I try to talk.”
Anran’s gaze fell guiltily, relenting with mutual silence as Kiriko studied her for a moment. Frowning isn't a good look for you. She sighed, casting another glance to the sky where the stars shimmered as bright as ever. Such a lovely sight, she was almost distracted by it all over again, but the gravity of the person next to her was far too heavy to ignore.
“The Hashimoto are too strong for us to fight alone now. We'll have to bite the bullet and team up with someone else eventually… but in doing so, it means we'll have to make compromises.” The words, edged with steel at first, began to melt into vulnerable honesty. “We Yōkai have a very specific way of running things, keeping each other safe and monitoring the streets of Kanezaka. I don't want the functionality of our group to have to bend to the needs of someone else.”
She expected Anran to speak up then, but nothing came through, so she continued, her eyes sweeping away from the night sky and catching the gaze of the girl next to her.
“I know that if we join forces with Overwatch, we'll have to change a lot with the way the Yōkai operate. It'll inevitably make us lose what originally made us who we are.”
“And what has you so sure that will happen?” There was something accusatory in Anran's voice, but the expression she wore remained gentle enough.
“Because it happens with everyone else.” Kiriko didn't hesitate with her words for a single beat. “Anyone who follows Overwatch’s guidance becomes one with their faction, their vision, their priorities.” She tilted her head away, closing her eyes with a strained sigh, knowing her next words would likely cause Anran to speak up again. “All Overwatch cares about is trying to be heroes, to rescue people their way as they see fit. Yeah, it's good on paper, but why should everyone else have to be aligned with Overwatch just because of the shared sense of justice?”
Anran rested her cheek into a palm, her arm propped against her knee. “Why wouldn't you want to be on Overwatch’s side if you're fighting for the same thing?”
“Because Overwatch wants heroes. Overwatch is made of soldiers, scientists, incredibly talented people like you–” Kiriko pushed at her shoulder lightly with a fist. “The Yōkai aren't like that. We were just a bunch of kids when we started out, that's all we wanted to be. We only stepped up because nobody else would, because Overwatch didn't have the sense to clean up the mess that they caused all those years ago. We aren't looking for glory and international unity… We just want to protect each other and our home.” At last, Kiriko allowed her tone to soften fully, her eyes falling to the ground. “That's what makes us Yōkai who we are.”
The dull crackle of the fire filled the air for a while, distant ocean waves rolling and splashing further out in the background while the weight of Kiriko's words clung to the air, immovable. This was ultimately something Kiriko had always been concerned about, but it was only becoming more and more relevant as the Hashimoto grew stronger and Overwatch’s public presence increased. There was far too much talk of being “with Overwatch” as if everyone had just forgotten how horribly that organization had collapsed in the past. As good as the intentions of Overwatch were, they were still sitting on masses of funds, a luxury only afforded by those that had the worst tendency to become corrupted or blind to their original vision. The Yōkai were barely a group, more like a band of friends that had what it took to stomach the worst of what hid behind Kanezaka’s shadows and could find it in themselves to stand up to an enemy ten times bigger and a hundred times stronger. Fighting for the same thing, maybe, but by no other means were the factions similar. Kiriko couldn't even hold anything against the individual members of Overwatch, they just wanted to put their skills to good use by serving a project greater than themselves in an effort to make an equally greater change in the world. It was clearly something that someone like Anran was built for, but she couldn't possibly see herself in that position. The Yōkai’s victories were small and scattered, but they kept Kanezaka safe, and that was more than good enough for them. Yes, they were in desperate need of help, just not from a group that had been built off of a mixture of money, justice, military, and corruption, especially when all four of those traits were shared with the foundation of the Hashimoto.
Anran drew a breath, but as Kiriko met her gaze, no words came into fruition. The two observed each other in silence, thin traces of pale orange flickering against the edges of their faces as the campfire continued to wane into obscurity.
“So… asking for help from Overwatch means… losing the significance of being a member of the Yōkai,” Anran summarised with caution in her words, firmly staying quiet as soon as she finished her statement.
“That, and I don't want to owe any obligations to a group that's so controversial. Say we joined forces just for there to be more corruption later on down the road. How are us Yōkai supposed to respond? We can't just detach ourselves from it so easily when we're ‘officially’ allies.” As much as Kiriko wanted to harden her gaze in that moment, she knew that these words would ultimately still hurt Anran in some way. Overwatch was obviously very important to her, to hear how much disdain and distrust she had in it would surely be an uncomfortable anchor thrown into the conversation, but it wasn't like she had it in her to lie either.
You make everything so much more complicated… Why did it have to be you?
Running a hand through her own hair briefly, Anran leaned down, collecting her thoughts as she adjusted her posture in the process. “That one I can't blame you for, but I believe Overwatch wouldn't have come back if it was weak enough to fall into corruption again.” Her eyes landed on Kiriko's again, grounded confidence in the flares of red that saw right through her. “The circumstances were different back then. Overwatch had clearly overstepped, but they've since learned their lesson, and every battle fought thus far has been nothing but further proof that we're not just another big name in the industry. We are built off of heroes, but heroism isn't what we're after. Humanity is.” A small grin emerged from the corner of her lips. “And from what I've seen, humanity is what the Yōkai are fighting for, too.”
Kiriko knew damn well that smile was meant for her and not for the conversation. Even amidst countless disagreements, the attraction that kept the two of them from fully separating burned as strong as ever.
Forcing a small laugh, Kiriko turned her head to hide the smile she felt herself developing. “If we're going to accept Overwatch’s help, it's going to be with no strings attached and has to be because Overwatch wants to help us, not just because Talon’s involved.”
“I see that now,” Anran agreed. “I still don't know if I can say you're making the right choice in being so stubborn… but your feelings on the whole situation are your own, and they're formed by the unique experiences that you've lived. I'm not going to discount that no matter what.”
“Don't go trying to plant any ideas in your teammates heads after this conversation,” Kiriko warned.
“Really now? You're the sly fox here, not me.”
“You're lucky I don't have a tail or I’d use it right now to sweep you on over here.”
An earnest laugh came in response to that. “Could just ask me to come closer.”
“Spirits forbid a girl likes to play hard to get,” Kiriko mused, leaning over all at once and letting her head land on Anran's leg. Half resting in her lap, she looked up to the sky, but met the gaze of the phoenix instead. Impossibly fierce and forever ablaze, Anran returned the look in her eyes gladly, smiling as she adjusted her own position to make it more comfortable for Kiriko.
“I won't talk to anyone in Overwatch, but you know I'll still be worried about you, right?” Her brows slanted, her voice genuine.
Kiriko lifted a hand, poking the center of Anran's forehead lazily. “They'll never catch me, they haven't been able to in almost ten years.”
“Still…” As she debated with her words, Anran took hold of Kiriko's wrist and lowered her hand slightly, pressing a small kiss to her knuckles. “...Talon has only become more dangerous, so have the Hashimoto. Sooner or later, they're bound to launch a large-scale attack on Tokyo. I don't want you to wait until it's too late.”
“But if I did, you'd still be willing to save me, right?”
As ironic as the words were, after all that Kiriko had insisted and argued that whole night, she knew that they would get to her, and as per usual, she was right.
Nevertheless, Anran let out a sigh. “You really think you're that important to me?”
Kiriko only grinned, the tension in her nerves having settled completely now, the relaxing breeze of the ocean and the warm stability of the other girl keeping her in a soothing equilibrium of comfort and content.
Anran maintained her ground for a handful of seconds before eventually caving, lowering and releasing Kiriko's hand so that her palm was free to slide across her shoulder and rest against the back of her neck.
“Of course I would save you. Even if you piss me off a little bit.”
Satisfied, Kiriko leaned into Anran's hand eagerly. “You know you love it.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”