The dance isn't over yet!

Minako guided that hand away, held it still though she kept her grip loose. She’d been set to shivers when Yukiko twisted her shirt, pulled her close. Breath had mingled, blew across her chin and Minako’s stomach was still in tight, pleasant knots. 

<I was—I am. Just as selfish and stupid and horrible as you pointed out. I—I want to be more than that person, now. It’ll take work, I know, but I—I want to try.> A deep breath, an exhale. <I want help with Akane’s shadow qualities, yes, because I don’t know how to teach her that. And I want to help you with your memories—>

Honesty, honestly.

<—Because they’re yours. They’re yours and you deserve them. If you decide you want me like you wanted me before, then great, but if not—>

If not? The if not made her knees knock.

<—then I’ll just have to start over from scratch.> She chanced a grin, found it easier and real, if a little small. <I won you over once. Once I remember how to be charming and not a total bag of dicks, I’ll just see if I can convince you again.>

There was already a foundation there, even if Yukiko didn’t remember it.

<Maybe I’ll graduate from knight to prince, huh?> A shrug, a husk of a laugh. <But before any of that—I want to help you. No—no catches. Not anymore.>

She saw the wince, that critical look, and her grin fell into something serious—concerned. Her other hand rose before she could stop it. Something shifted, inside, like a flutter of wings and a soft breath of wind—Titania—and when Minako rested her fingers against one side of Yukiko’s face, curled around the temple, she felt it warm with soothing magic. Nothing too special—she was far from the shadow’s realm and the Dark Hour—but Yukiko was still a shadow, and therefore a beacon and conduit for her magic. 

"What, then?" She asked, frowning cautiously. The headache wasn't going away. It didn't feel natural, whatever it was--but the touch was undoubtedly soothing and she wanted to relax into it. It wasn't a normal pain. Shockingly, she could produce incredibly rudimentary healing spells herself--Yukiko was under the impression her Other was capable of more eloquent healing magic, but--so the exchange didn't surprise her as much as it should have.

Minako wanted her, for whatever reason. Don't we all? She wanted to croon, but there was a level of involvement and peculiarity in this case to the extent that she couldn't summon her usual dismissal. 

"You want to date?" It was supposed to sound snide, but came out as tired instead. "Fine. Help me. By your very words you understand well that I owe you nothing. Don't cry poo-poo if I'm less than eager to make kissy faces at you over the dinner table."

Yukiko leaned into the palm, unconsciously, like a cat seeking warmth.

But even if her body responded—and it did, despite herself, despite the situation—Minako didn’t think she could let them have sex. A year—two?—she’d lost count, whatever, she’d made do with herself before and she could do it now. 

<I have jewlery you left here. some clothes that—that you…didn’t need, anymore.> Her skin prickled and she raised a hand to rub her neck, swallowing as she stared at the way Yukiko looked to the door, vulnerable and…

Hell. Her chest was tight again, swelling with soft feelings and tenderness.

<I know that you like chamomile tea with no sugar, steaming hot. You like everything spicy, and the color black better than white, and red more than the both of them. You swear and cuss and you hate it when people invade your castle to hurt you—but you love the attention anyway.>

One hand rose, grabbed the hand Yukiko had drawn away. She held it, marveled at the difference between her own hands—rough and the palms calloused from a naginata, a gun—and the softness of the shadow’s.

<Your phoenix is beautiful and terrifying. You took me flying, once, and—and w-when my body, when my body died—> She shook. <You buried it beneath the roses.>

The breath she took was uncessesary, really, because she didn’t need to catch her breath after speaking. 

She stared, eyes rough with feeling. There had to be something. Minako had been so content to let herself stew, to indulge in her own suffering, so much to the extent that she outright ignored sensible truth put before her. Yukiko did not know what to make of this strange machination--this creature that looked like a human and held the mother of all shadows under lock and key. She had the truth in front of her, supposedly. The pictures didn't prove her relation to the child but it proved some sort of relationship at the very least. Her expression soured, turning from vulnerable to poisonous in a simple slant of lip.

"You want me to educate your--your brat, is that it?"

Yukiko couldn't remember anything of the sort. She couldn't remember anything like flying with this person on her back or mourning--it was not in her nature to mourn, as if she would, what foolishness. Toys broke and that was that. 

Or so she wanted to believe. It was much simpler that way. A headache--familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it, of course everyone got headaches sometimes--took her then, leaving a dull pain in her skull. Yukiko winced, looking critical.

"There was something else, wasn't there?" She breathed out through her nose, grip relaxing to the point that she'd let go, only to then gently rake her fingers over Minako's chest.

Yukiko couldn't place it. The shadow was far from content with these explanations, for certain. But despite the sheer boldness and weirdness of the human's claims there was something that she couldn't completely resolve.

If Minako was wrong, it simply didn't make sense for her to know that information.

Hell, had she always been so awful? Maybe it was good that Yukiko didn’t remember her after all. Her teeth ground as she corrected herself, sharply, that it wasn’t better, because Yukiko’s memories were still her own and it was wrong that she couldn’t remember. 

Christ, what a piece of work she was turning out to be.

<Believe me or not, I won’t blame you either way—> Not anymore, at least. <—But I’m giving you the answers. Whether they’re the ones you want is up for debate.>

She followed the gloves as they fell limp to the floor, fought the heat that rose to her face. Surely Yukiko wasn’t—didn’t she hate her? Or, at the least, cared nothing for her. 

She swallowed. 

<Yeah, just—um.> Her phone was in her back pocket, so to reach it she’d have to lean a little further in. There was already so little space between them. She took a breath for courage, signed a quick, <Excuse me,> and pressed forward, eyes averted, to dig out her phone. 

Yukiko was warm. 

Her attention span was rapidly deteriorating. For all of her agonising and wondering, this was what she had to accept as her only source of information. The truth--be it actually so--was frankly, a dull one, and she was dissatisfied with the proof. The arduous task of stalking this girl, hiding, spying, wondering... it had made her so very hungry.

"You seem flustered." She said bluntly, feeling a whisper of a thrill as their bodies were flush. The feelings weren't there, Yukiko understood this. Whatever she had once seen in this human would have to be demonstrated again, lest she chalk it up to a nightmarish fever dream.

Besides, they were lonely.

Yukiko hated that thought as soon as it surfaced, quickly striking it down before it could grow root.

"Assuming our game of twenty questions isn't another indulgence of yours--assuming it has some truth... Isn't this familiar for you?" The shade splayed her fingers over the small curve of Minako's hip, nails gently pricking. The phone was offered to her and she took it with one hand, keeping the other still. "Hm."

She was confounded by this machine, somewhat. But there was only one instruction she had to follow which simplified the process. Damn thing, what did she have to do to--oh.

That...

"What is this?" She asked flatly, voice even. Like that time before, she was looking at another collection of her. It was aggravating, to see her face in such unfamiliar positions. Yukiko was certain she hadn't even made these expressions in the mirror before.

"Is this your proof?" The shadow intoned, not meeting Minako's eyes. "What am I supposed to do with this? ...Unless you have something more illicit then I..."

This is preposterous.

She hated this. No this most certainly was not the answer she wanted.

"Then I..."

Yukiko mouthed at her neck, hollow kisses holding none of the sweetness and all of the bite. Her scars—the ragged lines across the front from the car crash, the raised puckers from the fangs of Mitsuru’s shadow—felt all too big and ugly, and self consciously she tried to duck away. 

Inside, outside, ugliness and selfishness. Thanatos demanded her to answer for what she’d done and Minako would have let him have it, if that hadn’t been another self indulgence. She had to be alive to take care of Akane, to somehow make things right again. 

For real, this time. No more self sacrificing and no more goddamn excuses. She wasn’t fickle. 

<I told you before, I wouldn’t lie to you with answers. She’s—you made her. It was—when you came to stay here after the fight with your mother.> Fingers tugged at her blouse and a coil of heat grew there, shamefully. She felt cornered and frightened and felt shame at the emotions; she had been selfish enough to abandon Yukiko. 

Had been selfish and stupid with heartbreak that she had torn up the pictures that would have proven Yukiko’s time here—

My phone.

—and she remembered, suddenly, the pictures of the shadow she still had in her phone, in an album that laid unmarked and untouched. 

"Forgive me if I don't trust someone whose greatest skill is lying to themselves. It's so much harder to trick yourself, isn't it? Now everyone else...."

She sighed. "I suppose you didn't lie... But it certainly took you a while didn't it, shorty? It was a matter of," she moved languidly, blinking lazily at the girl as she began to pull at the fingers of her long gloves, "asking you the right questions."

They came off with little fanfare, falling limply to the floor.

"How would I even know it was mine?" It was absurd. She could produce the right--the right equipment, but that didn't mean it had any potency. If push came to shove, perhaps it would call for a demonstration. Yukiko raised her eyebrows, sliding her now gloveless hands against Minako's hips.

Minako stumbled backwards, tripping over her feet to press herself against the other wall. Yukiko’s shadow was stretching, a monster that stirred Thanatos inside like a goddamn shark to spilled blood. Death was a ravager, a selfish being that took and took and took and gave nothing but the chance at reunion. An endless, aching black, and she’d long since given in to the stewing nightmare slumbering in her skin.

Inhuman. Minako had faced her shadow, once. Had faced it several times over, in fact. Cackling mad with violence and delirium, railing validate me. She’d thought before that the call for validation was from herself, to recognize that she’d done good things and could leave them alone.

But it hadn’t been it at all. It had been a cry of validation from others, for others to see just how strong and good she was. How heroic she was.

Disgusting, I’m disgusting—

 Martyrdom, self-sacrifice, had long since defined her life from the fatal car crash so long ago. So caught up in her own mire and complex, she had ignored the fact that Yukiko hadn’t chosen to forget, that Yukiko had wanted her beyond measure. 

That Yukiko had been in agony over not knowing herself. 

She needed you, and you left her to whine about things not going your way.

It hit, then, that Thanatos didn’t want Yukiko to punish—it wanted to protect. The vitriol, the disgust, had been directed at her for causing this mess, for letting things fester. Thanatos was Death, but it was righteous Death—not this slow, poisonous fallacy.  

The shadow demanded an explanation and it spilled out from pale fingers as pressed back against the wall, shuddering. 

<She’s—>

Her fingers were slow and clumsy, brain in a tailspin. 

<After the castle—lived with me. We—didn’t use protection. I got pregnant. Akane was—she’s—>

Shame clogged her throat, seized her muscles. 

She didn't have time for this revolting little soap opera. Minako was a selfish girl, and they had been drawn to each other for their own selfish compulsions; Shadow seeking adoration, escape, solace and this--apparition? Beyond I--desiring closeness for the sake of something so pitiful as attention. Yukiko could understand that, much as she would like to reject the notion. Attention was wonderful, beautiful; it fed her. The head hunters that frequented her abode--despiet their obvious ill-intent (at least, at first, sometimes)--always paid her some kind of heed. Be it negative or eventual positive, she was sought. She could understand this.

But...

"Did that take twenty? Are we still going? Pity." 

One weighted step forward, and her body thrummed angrily next to Minako. "Stop entertaining yourself with such foolishness. The only person you are satisfying is yourself, you selfish fucking cretin"

Yukiko hissed through smiling teeth, nose against Minako's neck. The beast--Persona? She could recognise these weapons--was indiscernible as the human's fingers wove Mobius strips before her eyes. Regardless, she had to assume that it was her head the monstrosity lusted over, lest she be subject to a hiding. Yukiko ghosted the swell of her lips over Minako's pulse, seized with the impulse to bite. Not a chance.

She was supposed to believe that the--that the brat was hers? The Shade scoffed internally at the very thought. Bullshit. Like hell she was capable of breeding. She had barely enough tangibility to continue her own existence, let alone have enough left to produce another soul.

"Bullshit." Yukiko whispered, placing a hollow kiss over Minako's jugular. "You found her I suspect. Are you trying to toy with me?"

She fingered the ends of Minako's blouse thoughtfully, finding herself growing bored and tired with the influx of drama. She was unsatisfied with her answers and irate at her past self for associating with such an obviously fickle human.

Her hands shook even as she lead Yukiko back to that dreaded apartment—and even now, years later, small things of the Yukiko she knew remained, small pieces and memories but no discernible scent—and went to lay Akane down for a brief nap. The anger and frustration and hurt pulsed hard in her veins, stirred Thanatos to raging awareness.

Her eyes flashed and she closed them, beat back the Death and locked it down tight. Not. Now.

<When I arrived home, and you were—here—>

Minako was aware of her stilted, rapid breathing, a cold sweat on the back of her neck. Anxiety, stress, mounting behind her eyes; sleeping with Yukiko’s warmth had kept decades old nightmares away, but they had only returned and gotten worse, taking their toll on her in different way. 

<And you. Didn’t remember me, at all, I thought that you had willingly forgotten it. I thought that you wanted to be away from me. I thought you wanted to leave, so I wasn’t going to stop and stand in your way.>

More than ever Minako yearned to shout and scream, to release the pressure in her chest in some vocal way. She’d have to make do with particularly vicious signing, she supposed.

<And when you left it—hurt. Deeply. Whatever I’ve become now—whatever I feel now—I never grew sick of you.> Vulnerably, foolishly, <You made me happy, Yukiko. You made me really happy.>

<In any case, by the time I realized that—whatever Nyx had done to turn you against me in the battle in the castle, she’d done to your memories—I figured it was too late. You’d left, probably—found something better than me to occupy your time. Did you sour me?>

A bitter smile.

"You know what this sounds like? Selfishness~" She took a powerful step forwards, letting her Shade rise and murmur powerfully around her. Against the wall, her shadow grew tall and oily, pulsing with black tendrils that searched and scratched.

"You want to find ways to punish yourself--you want to be the victim, the dear little hero--you root for yourself, you arrogant little fuck, you're sick."

Yukiko smiled, aggravated. This was her informant? This was the answer? Ridiculous. 

"You blame a 'Yukiko' without fault--you are seeking a reason to hurt yourself, to put yourself down. Darling, Shadow is pain, Shadow is truth. Do you think I can not understand you? Is that why we 'dallied', hmm? Because you are a masochist?" She drew closer still, and there was only the palest ring of light around the steeping black of her pupils, bloated wide and dark with sin. "Fucker.

"That's what you are."

There was a hole in her chest the size of a bowling ball. Through the gap, love like blood gushed and spilled; she didn't want to remember this, almost.

"I think you are a drama queen." She hissed, still grinning despite the evident aggravation in her pinched features. "Rather than resolve your complexities you prefer to spill illness--fucker. You dirty fucker. I have agonized over this vacancy," Yukiko pointed a finger to her head like a knife, "seeking individuation, answers, and you!"

Finally her brow furrowed. "You were hiding."

The door to where Akane slumbered was within her reach. She rested a palm against the frame, looking dangerously into Minako's gaze. "You are as inhuman as I. Will you chance that beast inside you, while your young sleeps? I can smell him, and he wants my hide."

<Don’t teach my daughter mass murdering tendencies! She’s not even five.> Once again, a few soothing rubs on the child’s back had the shade inside retreating, the girl content to gum on her fist and beat a rhythm on her mother’s shoulder blade.

Minako had lost count of the questions, of the game, after the actual—the actual nice contact she’d had with Yukiko. Kind, soothing—was it wrong to feel right being a martyr? Was she so truly doomed to so willingly offer herself on a cross for this, again and again, on endless repeat? 

I really am the Fool, aren’t I.

<We did. It’s how we met. We played twenty questions before you—> Ugh, embarrassment, <—you and I, ah. Dallied. For the first time.>

She wasn’t going to add that Yukiko had been the first for her, that she had clawed her way in, that the blood she’d drawn on her fingers should have been a warning to their relationship.

A knighting sealed with blood and kisses, what a laugh. 

<I’m your mother’s Seal. She was pissed at you choosing me—my body—over loyalty to her. Or something. I’m no expert on Nyx’s feelings, only that she hits hard and she shows no mercy.>

Unbidden, she allowed Yukiko to maneuver them both out of the way of the excrement, Akane giggling happily. 

That was an interesting tidbit, if anything. She knew she was prone to... attachments, if a particular subject proved worthy of her fancy. But to express such interest as to garner trouble with Mother? Preposterous. Contrary to her attitude, she was by no means a bad child. Not in Mother's eyes. How audacious.

Yukiko side eyed Minako, studying thoughtfully the curve of her nose; the blade of her jaw. "Hah."

You...? Don't make me laugh. What a bunch of bullshit.

"You're the seal? I admit, I imagined that you'd be..." She eyed her up and down, "taller."

It was easier to make light of the situation when in company and quietly absorb everything in the process. When she was alone in her chambers, she would digest this, and scream her curiosity into the endless night.

"Hah! Did something to me? Can't imagine it was a mere smack on the bottom, hmm? She made us after all... She can un-make us with a mere thought." Yukiko delicately squeezed the pad of her index finger and thumb together. "We are hers."

Her heels clinked dully against the pavement. There were cracks. "My, my. I get the impression we can't have been that close." Her eyes narrowed into scrutinising blades. "You acknowledge that Mother made some sort of act upon me, no? ...Darling, why ever did you not pursue me?"

Not as if she cared. But of course, if there was truth to Minako's words--that she understood Nyx had changed her in some way, then similarly she should comprehend it was not Yukiko's decision. She did not have time for the likes of this fool's paradise.

"When I awoke, you were fine to lose sight of me. Your den was covered in Us, and yet it was so easy for you to relinquish your faith. Is this some sort of hurtful crusade of yours? I thought your folk were more inclined to be sweet. Was it that you were sick of me? Did I turn you... Sour?"

Love.

<Your mother was angry that we’d dallied in the past—> 

Fell in love.

<—and tried to take it out on you. I didn’t let her. The fight razed your castle to the ground, so I offered you a place to stay.>

I gave you everything of me.

<You had your own toothbrush,by the way> Minako corrected, trying for a grin that didn’t meet her eyes and fell apart at the seams halfway through. <We were friends, once.>

A bicycle bell rang shrilly, and she caught the movement from the corner of her eye. Instinct flared, and she stepped back, an arm shooting out against Yukiko’s waist and the rest of her body following suit as a shield.  A few steps and she maneuvered them both back as a cyclist whizzed close by the spot where they had almost passed, shouting an apology over his shoulder. 

She could feel heat below silk, pressed at her back. She trembled like a child, her nerves set on fire from the simple contact, the act of shielding. 

She hadn’t even thought about it. It was so natural. 

—"A prince? No, a knight…"—

Yukiko had called her that, once. She stood rooted to the spot, Akane clamped to her chest as Minako struggled to breathe, to think clearly, to feel something beyond pushing memories and punishing love.

Twenty questions, twenty questions... Now why did that seem familiar?

"Have we done this befo--"

The bicycle streaked past, bleeting its shrill cry, and a strong arm secured itself around her waist, hauling her to safety. What the hell was that?

"You..." She murmured, into hair, coming to a realisation. You care about me, don't you?

Yukiko didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Well now, wasn't this intriguing! She wanted to chide the poor girl, tell her how silly and futile she was, how funny she was--

She cleared her throat behind a pale glove. "What a rude individual. I'm afraid I will have to set Aka-chin on him and boil him alive."

The shadow was more aware of her heart than she had been, in recent memory. Though the heart was an odd, conceptual thing to her, and she coped by ignoring it's queer desires. Today was no exception, but with the way things were going, perhaps tomorrow...

Yukiko swallowed thickly. Enough of that now.

"Shhh, shhhh." Minako thumped her back a little, soft pats. She wasn’t aware of the smile that creeped over her face, tortured—agonized with love. 

Yukiko seemed concise, suddenly, shuffling awkwardly in her dress. The human world was too open for her—as it had always been. Minako swallowed back the lump in her throat, reached out a hand to take the shadows on impulse before she drew it away. She frowned at her own palm, angry with herself for thinking that things were—

—Were the way they were. You can’t go back to the past, so move on already.

So much easier said than done, really.

<We won’t be out here much longer, don’t worry. There’s a TV back at my place, ah—you went through it that night, remember?> But there was no accusation, just simple fact. Putting Akane’s needs before her own had the strangest effect of humanizing her again. 

Yukiko's expression softened, tenderness mixing with the natural harshness of her face in a heart warming combination of savagery and kindness.

"Ha. Don't forget it, baby."

Ugh, weird.

Minako looked happy in that moment. The shadow would have been placated by this had she been feeling any less awkward--the woman's hand ventured dangerous close to her own, so close that her warmth whispered through her gloves. There was startling familiarity in the gesture, as though it was practiced, common. Yukiko wasn't aware of her prior experience with such gentle touches, preferring to seek solace in brutality. But it was not... Unwelcome.

Buildings slid by the pair of them, looking watery and blank. She frowned softly, brow creasing delicately.

'Don't worry?', fuck me. What a change, but she supposed the brat had something to do with it. Akane gurgled sweetly below her field of vision. "Thanks." She offered oddly, obviously uncomfortable with the politeness but trying. Why she was trying was beyond her--surely it would be easier to just tear out her throat and pull the answers out of her entrails--

Yukiko looked resolutely ahead. No point kicking a long dead animal. Beyond her young, Minako didn't seem to care about an awful lot--there was no use torturing a husk.

...

"Excuse me?" The notion returned some of her humour, and she looked bemusedly at the other woman, cheeks dimpling. "Truly?" Her teeth were white to the point of shining. The reason she didn't kick up worlds of shit was because--because she had nothing else to fill the gap. Nothing.

"Are you fucking serious? ...Mina-chi. Did we share toothbrushes and everything?" Yukiko batted her eyelashes, but it was evident from the strain in her voice that she was genuinely asking. "How did that come to be? Necessity? Survival?"

Yukiko could take that at face value—no, she would. It was always face value with her, now. The secondary meaning in that almost barb would be lost on her.

Akane’s face split into a grin, teeth sharp and poised as daggers. She chirped, fangs clicking, as though in warning and burrowed closer to the muted woman, darkness receding when Minako stroked soothing circles on her back.

"M’not scamp." It was a quiet mumble from the toddler before she hooked her face onto Minako’s shoulder, quietly staring; or observing. 

What now, Yukiko had asked, and what now indeed. Weariness sunk into her bones, sapped away her fire and fight in a second breath. The problem with trying to keep an armor of brutality was that it just wasn’t her natural state. 

A starving, feral dog only had so much energy to spare. Minako was starting to wonder what it was that she wanted from Yukiko, truly. Why she had held out on the secrets and memories she kept hoarded.

And for what? Sex? A chance to teach Akane how to seize on the shadow thrumming in her blood? 

When did I turn so petty?

The girl made a strange sound, something that resounded firmly to her, and for a second Yukiko felt the urge to chirp back, a soft purring noise coming from the back of her throat. Afterwards she coughed, looking somewhat embarrassed, glaring distantly at nothing in particular. A soft shade of pink bloomed on her otherwise porcelain cheeks.

Head solidly in a different direction to the pair, she spoke quietly. "What then? Aka-chin? You tell me, scamp..."

Twenty questions? Since when did her life life get reduced to such a frivolous game? Yukiko masked a sigh with a flare of her nostrils, adjusting her dress in a sign of awkwardness disguised poorly as an act of vanity. Honestly she felt vulnerable. It was already enough that she was a literal shadow of a person, but now she had to endure some inane dance at the mercy of this bizarre individual.

Straightening, she faced them again. At least Minako claimed she would tell the truth. Her phoenix was a small exchange compared to the wealth of information she hoped to gather.

"Fine." She intoned, uncharacteristically concise. The child was starting to freak her out. It smelt too familiar. Biting her lip, she hid her face in a veil of hair, glancing down at her shoes, which were so pretty and otherworldly in so grey a place. "Why did I wake up at your home?"

Barb for a barb. Minako would sink her teeth into whatever Yukiko offered. Too often she’d been a good god, rolling over for scraps and scratches. 

Now she was feral and starving. Liable to bite the hand that fed. 

If winning you with softness didn’t work, I’ll win you with teeth.

She was done with being kind. Being careful. Bending over backward. She’d fought for Yukiko—the second nearly killing her again—and what had she gotten in return? Scars and a broken heart that only beat for a child the shadow had left behind. 

She absently rubbed the gouges Yukiko had once left behind, five raised lines that marred her face. 

<What I want is for my girl to be happy.> Yukiko’s lips brushed her cheek; Minako nearly flinched back, staring with the eyes of a wounded, cautious beast. <What was that you said about needs, huh? It’s been a year. You’ll do.>

The only way to really show a shadow you cared was to dominate. 

<Here’s the one warning you get, by the way. If you hurt my daughter—> And now her eyes flashed, she knew, Thanatos pounding against her skull with a low growl. She was a mother protecting her baby—even a shadow would understand that, right?

<—I’ll make sure you never want see the human world again.>

She meant it. God, in that moment, she meant it. If that meant chaining Yukiko in her silk and sin castle then she’d chain her down. It didn’t matter.

She turned around, quickly striding to the nursery. It was recess—the children were allowed to play in the fenced yard. Scamp, Squirt—those were little nicknames. She met with the nursery runner, bowing and signing with false cheer, and heard a delighted chirp of noise.

Akane bounded over, ran to cling to her legs tightly. Minako felt the barest hint of claws through her pants and grinned lightly, bending down to hold the little girl tight. 

Blake hair that glossed blood red in the sun; pale skin that seemed otherworldly; and little Akane’s eyes were a curious color. In the right lights, they looked red, like her own; and in the lack of light, they looked gold.

<Thanks for taking good care of her, like always,> she signed with one hand as she balanced Akane on her hip. <See you next week.>

She turned, walked back to Yukiko even as Akane started to babble in her ear about her day, and god help her, all the tension fled. The kid was the only source of—of goodness she had left to her, selfless and pure. Ironic, considering she was half Shadow, of all things, but—but good. 

Akane nuzzled her briefly, before going rigid and alert, staring at the stranger in pink, eyes bleeding to black.

And the human responded with a threat--the shade wasn't completely sure what warranted such attrition, but couldn't deny the slim pinpricks of memory that arrested her whenever Minako looked her way. It was something close to fondness, if she could ever feel that--bullshit, maggot, terrible informant, just terrible--but then she'd open her mouth and Yukiko would want to strangle her, all over again.

So strange and repugnant; how she hated being unto somebody, moreso a damn human. Just tell me. She was so sick of being in the dark.

"As if I care. Don't entertain yourself with understanding my fancies, girl. If I wanted to bleed out your brat I would have done it. I would have bled out ten brats. Like your human world has any more to offer me. We breathe the same air, shadow realm or no."

She regarded the incoming child with a mixture of misplaced warmth and irritation. "At least Shadows are blunt about their manipulation. Your kind are so much worse."

As--Akane? Not a bad name. Strange--the girl bounded over, Yukiko felt the odd compulsion to be polite. Considering her reputation, it was a strange impulse that she felt well to ignore. "Hello, scamp." She greeted, raising an eyebrow. It's eyes were black, Shade spilling thickly into the russet tones. Excuse you. Yukiko's own darkness swelled as though in kinship, irises bleeding black as though in repartee.

So blatant a seduction. Could it even be called that? Whatever, it suddenly made her jealous and her blood run white hot with anger. Punish, Thanatos bellowed, and Minako closed her eyes before the flash of blue could register. 

No. None of that, now. 

Minako opened her eyes and gestured vaguely, walking to the day care. At least it was close by—a few blocks by the bakery, and only a block away from the apartment. She’d chosen wisely—she’d had to. 

<My daughter is—she isn’t human.> Thank god the general populous didn’t know sign language. Made private conversations possible in public, even when the girl she was talking to in question wore a huge pink dress. 

<She’s part shadow.> She swallowed. <She needs a teacher. I’ll give you information for her lessons, And—>

She stopped, turned on her heel, and stared the shadow down. She made her expression as fierce as possible. 

The shadow allowed her face to fall neutral. It was probably nothing.

She fanned her fingers over her mouth delicately, masking an irate sigh as a yawn while Minako began her cautious signing. Yukiko couldn't look like she knew the way to the brat's strange, pseudo prison--regardless of her apparent species difference, it just didn't make a lot of sense to leave one's spawn in the company of--

Ah.

Yukiko looked coolly at the deliberate twist of fingers, feeling agitated. Of course, the hellspawn. A sly grin tugged the corners of her lips--there was her in.

It pained her to acquiesce to so knowing a person, but it was her only option. "Haha..." Much as it would please her to witness Minako as an eyeball strewn paste at the moment (damn her knowledge, damn that power), the girl's terms were incredibly interesting. What could it mean?

"I could have... Anyone that I want..." She murmured heavily, meeting the challenging stare effortlessly, ironing the girl's body with her eyes. "Anything." Yukiko drew the word out, head lolling back in a lazy stretch, as if to emphasise the luxury of her form.

"You are dumb," she husked, with a languid smile steeped in irritation. "But not blind, girl. And so you proposition me with both your body and your brain, knowing mightily well that my interest lies in the latter.

I asked you what you wanted," Yukiko drew closer, planting a soft kiss to the other's cheek, "and you offer me this bonus."

You have all the cards here, Human.

She pulled away, tilting her head in an innocent gesture, pausing to allow the gravity of the offering to take effect. "Dirty girl."

She used to like it when Yukiko touched her. Now she didn’t know how to feel.

<You wouldn’t believe me if I had told you then,> she signed at last, finally turning her head. 

And—hell. Why not, right? She’d won Yukiko’s heart once before. Maybe she could do it again. Maybe honesty was the best policy—

<I’ll give you answers—>

But who could afford to be so blithely honest, anymore? Minako had put her everything—literally, everything, heart body and soul—into the relationship once and she’d been burned so deeply she still tasted the soot. If she was going to woo Yukiko a second time, there’d be no selflessness.

She would give, and she would take. Tit for tat, blood for blood. 

<—For a price.> She smiled thinly. <You know all about that, right?> 

She stood with a muted little hup, dusting off her clothes. 

<Follow me, okay? We’ll pick her up and go home—to my house,> Minako corrected. <I’ll make tea—the kind you like.>

She snickered.

Yukiko's eyes narrowed sharply at the corners, and for a moment all she could feel was explosive, bubbling rage. The--the audacity! Just fucking tell me you obtuse piece of shit, I will eat you alive--girl was actually brandishing her knowledge, actually dangling Yukiko's (though she'd never dream of admitting it) pitiful sense of self between her fingers knowingly, and it made her so completely angry she could just up and rake her nails over her dear little face until there was nothing left but an apologetic smear.

Instead, what came out of her mouth was, "Wonderful." Her tone was without its usual sarcastic cheer.

Through a radiant smile she envisioned humiliating her, humiliating her. But that would not do and if she were to coax information out of this broken creature she would have to play along.

She rose from the bench smoothly, delicately pinching one side of her gown and holding it lightly aloft. There was nothing to be gained from beating what was already beaten.

Yukiko felt saliva fill her mouth. You stink. She thought for the umpteenth time, perturbed by Minako's scent still.

"Though what you could possibly want from little old me? I don't have anything that would interest you, sugar." 

What could she want, honestly? It pissed her off to no end. Yukiko would give anything to find her answers--so important to her, now--but best to not let that standard broadcast itself so blatantly.

Just a little. Just a fraction.

But seeing Yukiko now reopened every bleeding wound with razors, coating her insides in hot red and the molten black of fury.

And even then, she couldn’t hate her. 

<Don’t know how I’m your favorite.> Minako stared straight ahead, trembled. <I thought you hated me, to be frank.>

Unless you want to play?

She was going to be sick.

<I actually have to pick up the squirt soon.> She blinked, and tears clung to her lashes. <Can’t keep her waiting! We’re gonna make mac n’ cheese for dinner. It’s her favorite.>

Don’t invite her, don’t invite her—

<You’re welcome to come along, if you don’t think it’ll be boring.>

The nail almost turned harsh. She imagined driving it through the girl's skin, imagined it exploding into flesh.

In a lower voice, she intoned, "It's rude to keep secrets."

Perhaps she was saying too much. Between the blank spots in her memory and the painful, tickling feeling she got from being near this person, it was getting difficult to keep her queries in check. Yukiko had no idea why she woke up in that home, and it frightened her deeply.

To lose memory, in her mind, was to lose her sense of self. The difficulty in being a Shadow was that 'self' was more of a concept and less of a right.

Her eye twitched.

"Ooooh, really?"

Give me answers

"I'd love to, darling! ...It would be my pleasure."

Hadn’t Thanatos loved her too, once? Now all he howled for was blood. Minako felt like breaking into laughter, but that’d only lead to tears, and if she cried now, she wouldn’t stop. Musn’t cause a scene, she thought dimly. 

<You wish,> Minako signed lethargically. <Just having a low blood sugar spell.> She fished the sugar cookie she’d nabbed out from her pocket, broke it in half and took a bite, chewing. 

Yukiko was so warm, so close and the sweet turned to ash in her mouth. 

<You want half?> She offered it on impulse. <I can’t eat it, right now. I’ll spoil my appetite.> 

She finished her own half, pulled out her phone to cancel her shift, apologizing—thank god the owners knew her well enough to give her the okay for it. 

It was a lie; she would burn the whole entire earth for answers.

"Although I do fancy a pony." Yukiko murmured nonsensically, smiling blankly at nothing. "Failing that, I suppose your funny biscuit will do." Their hands touched, and she drew the morsel to her lips, the gesture making her head burn with memory. She didn't eat this sort of thing in her own home, so why...? 

Yukiko swallowed, troubled and angry. She resented this girl for having answers; for assembling these freakish sentiments in her. Filling the gaps in her memory had become so important but there was no concrete way of navigating the situation without perpetuating some awkward dance with this incongruous little woman. Ah, Yukiko blinked at a strange moisture glossing her eyes, sweet.

Idiotic. She was getting frustrated and hadn't gotten anywhere. Much easier when murdering things was the solution to everything. Minako would look pretty in red--

"--Can't I visit my favourite little wench?" The shade answered in hollow fashion, evasively. "Tch... Here I thought something exciting would happen." Their thighs brushed. "Well? Off with you then, Miss Tough Titties. Unless you want to play?"

The entire familiarity of this was making her crazy. Her head ached and her phone buzzed in her pocket—break’s up, Arisato—but even then she couldn’t leave. Yukiko had her tethered. 

She really hated the color yellow. The color red. Maybe if everything just went black and white for a while, she could actually start recovering. 

<The father?> Minako’s smile fell. <Dead. They’re—they’re dead.> 

It was all she was going to say. All she wanted to say. But then Yukiko’s shoe fell off and she—just smiled like that, eyes rolling. Minako huffed, looked between the shade and her shoe, and debated. 

Could she touch her? Just for a moment? Or maybe Yukiko would melt away like a mirage, and reveal that this had all been a very vivid fever dream. 

Minako didn’t know which would hurt worse.

<Sure. Clumsy, aren’t you?> She stooped to one knee, and seized the shadow’s ankle in a careful grip. At the first touch, Thanatos revolted—punish, punish, punish!—and bile flooded her mouth. She needed to get home, to get her baby and to get home, away from this—away from Yukiko—

But the girl was getting somewhat more ferocious, now. But quietly--Yukiko was thrilled at the notion, biting the inside of her cheek, a rise was a rise after all--and what was that buzzing? It sounded urgent, but neither of them cared, poised like queer statues in the glum sunlight.

Of course she didn't need her to get the slipper. It was a dominance thing, a show; the girl's compliance spurred her ego, and she brushed her foot against the surgeon's fingers that handled her ankle like a trap. Down on one knee--that's right, kneel--she looked perfect. Enjoy it, she thought sickly, feeling fire at the contact. Staring only satisfied so much.

"Awfully clumsy..." Yukiko cooed girlishly, twirling her foot this way and that. "But then..." The human was swaying now, moving like a bear on a bowling ball. "So are you, sugar."

Her hand moved forward, drawn like a wraith to the vulnerability. Delightful and painful at once. The latter was a disturbing concept for her to stomach, and so she dismissed it. Slim fingers grasped Minako's shoulder and--"Why don't you sit with me a while, hmm?"

Got you. "Seems I've swept you off your feet, baby!"

God she smelt good. Interesting, familiar. Yukiko felt vindication for all her previous observation in that moment, for the girl's change. She just made her so fucking--curious, and close to her like this, she could find answers.

A wink, to seal the deal. It was almost like being in high school again. She played the masses like a fiddle—social link, go—and she could play Yukiko just as well. Yukiko could sit on her throne of brutal honesty; Minako was more than happy to recline on a plush seat of lies. 

Look at you, champ. She’s right there, almost normal, and you’re fucking it up.

<Hey, I got over it. You were pretty stellar, but, eh—> Her eyes were dead, dead, dead—<I’ve had better.>

Ignore this, ignore this; she was being asked a question. 

<Oh, I’m surprised you remembered!> Her lashes fluttered and she wheezed a laugh, little puffs of air expelling. <I didn’t think a silly girl and her kid would have registered on your radar. You must be ever so busy!>

Minako tilted her head, mimicking the action of the shadow.

Perhaps if Yukiko ran into traffic, this girl would too, so seemed her propensity for mimicry. The polite tone was not lost on her, and she laughed breathlessly as though impossibly entertained, eyes crinkling charmingly at the corners. Tell me about them, then. She wanted to say, balancing her slipper on the tip of a very dainty toe. Not that it mattered; she couldn't remember their coupling, anyway.

Peasant, her brain whispered. How lucky was she to even be graced by these eyes! So ungrateful. "Ever so!" The laughter still tickled her words, sounding light despite the probing curiosity bubbling underneath. "But I cleared just a little--just a liiitle--bit of time for you. Don't you feel special?"

Her teeth were ever so sharp. "You should, you little shit! Did you ever figure out who the father was, anyway?"