Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The city of Julai was nothing like people made it out to be. Many regarded the place as something magical, otherworldly, and in some ways it was but in others, it was like every other town, wrought with troublemakers. That didn’t mean you hated living here, it was the opposite really. Julai is a vibrant city and with a roof over your head, a business that was doing relatively well, and plenty of food, you struggled far less in comparison to others. So, you couldn’t complain. 

You slipped your key into your pocket as you locked up your shop, you were a tailor whose career was primarily spent fashioning and fixing work clothes for those throughout the city. Your clientele are average folk, honest people who just need basic things fixed but there were times when you would receive requests from high-profile individuals. You never thought your work was worth a visit from them, but the heavy pockets afterward always made you forget. 

There was one large downside to working with these kinds of people. Their attitudes. Typically brash and unfiltered they spent their time berating you while simultaneously praising your skills. 

It was annoying. 

Your current and most wealthy client, at the moment, was a man named John Yun. Did you know who he was? No. Have you ever heard of him before? No. Did you know of the famous televisions he had created and was currently producing in the city? No. Televisions were so expensive that no average person owned one. 

You sighed as you turned the corner. You had been working on one of John’s pieces today. A muted blue suit. You had spent the entire day picking at it, fixing seams, and anchoring buttons back into place. What had this guy been doing? The damage was worse than you expected and each time you fixed one part you found another. By the time the day had finished only a quarter of the suit had been mended. When your hands started to ache and your eyes began to cross, you decided to call it quits for the night.

You paused, the alleyway you usually took was dark. The lamp lights were out. You cursed, it was safe to cross, but still unsettling. You steeled yourself, ducking into the alley and shuffling across the damp ground. Your apartment was only a block away, and while the nightlife in Julai never left the city silent, you were still alone. People around here were as kind as they were reckless, and it wasn’t uncommon to hear tales of late-night robberies and surprise assaults. You walked faster.

Just as you turned the corner you crashed into a wall, you took a step back, the unmoving object forcing you to catch yourself. “Shit,” you whispered. You blinked and squinted. That wasn’t a wall, it was a person. Standing a foot in front of you was man and, from your discernment, he was completely shrouded in a large froth of fabric. Blond hair peeked out from the cavernous hood and he wore no shoes. 

“You really shouldn’t be walking around here barefoot,” you said casually, unphased by the man’s sudden appearance. You had seen stranger, honestly. “Not safe,” you added. Maybe he was homeless you thought, but that cover of his was awfully pristine. The blond grunted, burrowed further into his cloak, and stepped around you, disappearing into the darkness of the alleyway. You rose a brow and followed his figure until he turned the corner. 

“...Okay?” you said to yourself. You pulled your bag closer and shrugged. Weirdo. 

You made it to your apartment with no other incidents and tucked into a hot meal you had picked up along the way. You changed and rolled into bed, sinking into a mattress you had spent a little too much on. You were supposed to get up early, your client was due to arrive mid-morning and you had a few more things to add before the suit was completed. 

You’d worry about it in the morning. 

And worry about it in the morning you did. You woke up late, far too late, and had ten minutes to get to your shop. You stumbled over yourself, scrambling to dress. You nearly fell out of your door and down the apartment steps as you maneuvered your way to your shop. When you saw that someone was standing at the entrance, your heart skipped. 

Just my luck, you thought. 

You smoothed your hair and clothes and slowed to a casual stroll as you descended upon the building. “Good morning,” you said with a smile. The individual turned and you paused. It was the guy from last night. He wasn’t wearing his cloak this time, however. He wore a pair of loose-fitting pants and a tight shirt, one that well defined his figure. You could see his face clearly in the sunlight and it took everything in you not to let out a low whistle at his features. He was unnaturally breathing-taking. His hair was styled away from his face, showing the sharpness of his eyes and angled jaw. Where did this guy crawl out of? There were attractive people in Julai but nothing like this.

“Can I help you with something?” You turned on your customer service voice, despite the man's undeniable beauty you still had a reputation to uphold, and drooling over a customer was inappropriate. 

He simply stared at you. You tried again, “Sir?” 

No answer. You observed him carefully, roving over his body and intensely analyzing whether or not he was a threat. You saw no weapons, but folded and tucked beneath his arm was a bundle of white fabric. “Do you need help with that?” She pointed to the fabric. Maybe he was mute, it would explain why he wasn’t talking. He followed your hand and then looked back at you, his blue eyes locking with yours. The intensity made your skin crawl. 

He nodded. Alright, that was something. 

You moved to unlock the door, watching the man in the reflection of the glass as you did so, still unsure as to whether or not he had malicious intent. As you shuffled inside he followed close behind you, a step away as you flicked on the lights and dropped your things off behind the main counter. You checked the clock, you only had a few minutes before your client was meant to arrive and with this guy waiting for your services there was no way you were going to be able to finish the suit. You resigned to your fate and pulled your registration book from beneath the counter. You pushed it towards the man and held out your hand. “Sign your name here, and let me see the clothes. I can determine what needs to be done.” 

He hesitantly passed it over, eyeing you as you unravel the material. It was much heavier than you anticipated it to be, the overall form and quality of the fabric were immaculate though. You were usually good at pinpointing types of fabric. Cotton, was soft especially when worn repeatedly, and linen, was airy with a slightly scratchy feel. Silk was hard to get a hold of but you had seen it once during your career, a scarf that a rich woman needed mending. This was unlike any of those, heavy like wool but smooth like silk, and had an insane amount of breathability. 

You stretched the fabric over the counter, unknowingly knocking the logbook to the ground. 

The cloak fell beautifully across the lacquered counter, emphasizing the dullness of the space. Its pristine whiteness was accented with a strange, organic pattern one that you had never seen before but thought complimented it nicely. As you shuffled the fabric, tucking it beneath itself so it wouldn’t brush against the dusty floor of the shop, you notice large ragged gash marks in several spots. How did you not notice this last night? 

“What did you do to this thing?” your fingers trailed the jagged marks. You looked up at the man. He was, unsurprisingly, staring at you and made no effort to reply. “Um, okay? It doesn’t matter really, it’s your business.” You folded the piece, pulling a wicker basket from beneath the counter. You gently placed the material inside, pushing it to the work pile to the left of the desk. “I can have it done in a few days,” you said as you turned. 

You touched a screen behind you, calculating the potential cost and recording it on a loose sheet of scrap paper, “it’ll be 25. That sound good?” you wrote the time and date of pick up on the sheet and turned to give it to the mysterious man. 

He was gone. 

Your eyes darted around the room. You hadn’t even heard the door’s bell ring as he departed. You looked at the note in your hand before looking back up. 

You rushed to the door, opened it, and peeked out. No one. The streets were just waking up after a long night of unsolicited activity, and the walkway was relatively dead. Only a few stumbling drunks nursing hangovers meandered along the pathway. Steven, the man who ran a cafe across the street waved to you, and you waved back.

You moved back to your workspace and your eye caught the log book that had crashed to the floor. You flipped through the pages, reviewing name after name. You recognized all of them, and they were all signed off. Picked up, canceled, and paid following each name in your handwriting. He hadn’t written his name down. You sighed, great, now you were going to get yelled at for being unorganized. How were you supposed to know who this guy was? 

You looked at the fabric, your hands moving to thumb the cool material. It really was a nice piece, and although it looked strange he seemed to find importance in it. He would be back. 

Millions Knives stood behind an obnoxious advertisement sign across the street. It was the only safe way to observe your shop, the shadow large enough to conceal his tall figure. 

He felt defenseless, naked, without his cloak but he could no longer wear it in its current condition. He did not mention it often and only his brother and the doctor, who had repaired Knives’ coat before, knew of it, but he sometimes found himself under the control of his weapons rather than the other way around. When he reached high emotional states he could no longer control them. His blades appeared outside of his command, resulting in damage to both the space around him and his clothing.

The Doctor refused to fix it this time. Citing Knives' outbursts as tantrums and finding no desire to reward him with free repairs. 

Ultimately, the man had told Knives to figure it out himself. Knives, too irritated to care, cursed and left to seek out a suitable replacement. 

That's how he came across your shop. He didn’t find joy in asking a human for help, but he promised his brother he would at least try to act civil in exchange for his return. Knives wasn't convinced that your work would be good enough. You didn’t know him, nor did you know the material of the fabric. It was created by plants, he wore it in honor of his brothers and sisters.

“They’re nice,” Vash’s voice echoed in his mind and Knives scoffed. Sure, Nice . Nice with a human was a falsity. They only acted kind when they had something to hide or wanted something. He found it pathetic. 

Knives watched as you stepped out of the shop, presumably looking for him. He had left, finding no reason to stay longer. You said you would fix it, that’s all he needed to know. He would pay you when he returned. He found it amusing as confusion twisted across your face, but you seemed to ultimately accept his disappearance and retreated back into the building. 

“Mama, what’s that?” Knives gaze fell on a woman and child walking just beneath his perch. The little girl, who was grasping her mother’s hand tightly, pointed up at him with her free hand. The mother looked around, confused. “What are you looking at?” The woman followed the direction of her daughter’s finger and looked up. Knives fell further into the darkness, slipping into the shadow of the buildings before making his trek back home. 

“There’s nothing there, honey.” She said, tugging at the child’s hand. “Come along, before we’re late.” 

“But Mama, there was a man with no shoes! He was hiding. Do you think he was playing hide-and-seek?”

“Maybe, honey.” The woman said, unbothered by her child’s fanciful speech.

The door suddenly opened and you were greeted with the suffocating scent of cheap cologne. John, your client, had arrived.

He was clean-cut, and well-styled, but had two goons flanking him, and the permanent sneer on his face made him grotesquely unattractive. He called out to you with a tone so sickeningly sweet it nearly made you gag. He leaned against the counter, observing you from over his sunglasses. One of his men poked at a roll of delicate fabric hanging from the already overcrowded shelves. You could see the dirt on his fingers from here.

“Please don’t touch that,” you said, your voice akin to a mother scolding a child. The man looked at you, offended, but tucked his hand into his pocket. 

John played along, “Listen to the lady, my friend. She is the expert. It’s why I hired her.” 

Your flattery will get you nowhere, you thought to yourself. 

“I suspect that you have my piece done? I have an important meeting coming up and will be needing it.” He stood straighter, adjusting the jacket of the suit he was currently wearing dull gold rings decorating his fingers. 

“No,” you said. There was no reason to pussyfoot around the issue, you had simply not finished it. “It was more damaged than you detailed,” you added. John’s face crumpled, and irritation flashed across his features for a brief second before he forced a smile. 

“Oh, you are a funny girl. Talented hands and humor, what more could a guy want.” He joked, but you saw his eye twitch beneath his shades. 

You stared at him, silent. Secretly channeling the stranger that had been in your shop moments ago. John’s smile fell. 

“It’s not done, I need a few more days.” You said. John looked at his henchmen and laughed, looking back at you with undisguised agitation. “Listen, sweetheart.”

You stopped him, repeating your name confidently. You were not a child nor were you his lover, there was no reason for him to call you that. 

He scoffed, “Whatever your name is. I need this by next week, you said it would be done today.” 

“I said it would be done today if everything went smoothly. I found more damage during my work.” 

“Then just give me what you have fixed. I will pay you now.” He seemed rather antsy about getting the piece back, he probably had some big wig to impress.

“I can’t, not unless you want a giant hole in your ass when you wear it.” There was a large split down the back center seam of the pants. How it got there you did not want to know, but it was there and there was no way you were letting the piece go without fixing it. John seemed like the type to purposefully bad mouth you even when the issue was his fault.

He sighed, “Is there any way you can have it done by tomorrow?” He asked, sliding an extra stack of coins across the table. You pushed them back, unphased, “No. I have other clients who are picking up.” They were here first, you idiot. You wanted to say.

“I demand you have it done by tomorrow.” He said, his voice stern. He sounded more like a child barking orders than a wealthy man, it was ridiculous. 

“No.” You repeated. “You should have told me about all of the damage, I could have given you a better estimate. Come back early next week and I will have it completed.” 

“I don’t think you heard me,” John said, sliding a shining silver pistol across the counter. His men reveal the ones at their hips. "I need it tomorrow." You rolled your eyes. Showing your gun in Julai was like revealing your first name. Everyone had one, it wasn’t a surprise. “Get out of my shop,” you said. 

John gapped, face flushing. “Excuse me?” 

“Get out of my shop,” you said again, turning and tucking into the fabrics piled on the workspace. “I’ll have your things ready by next week come back then.” The man was beside himself, floundering. He suddenly straightened, shoving his pistol back into the holster, and snapped his fingers. His men followed him out of the door, as he left he called over his shoulder, “My things better be done when I return. Or there will be consequences.” 

You watched them leave, and as soon as the shop doors slammed shut you let out a shuttering breath. You had no idea where the bout of confidence had come from. Typically when a gun was pulled the last thing anyone wanted to do was provoke the idiot who had it cocked, but you had experienced a surge of irritation, finding John to be both pathetic and insufferable and the words simply burst from your lips before you could stop them. You didn’t regret it though.

You eyed the dark suit folded on the counter, the immaculate white cloak beside it. The new client's project was a whispering temptation of curiosity. The suit could wait, John wouldn’t be back for a few days. You had enough time to spend a little longer with the cloak. 

You sat quietly two days later, gently threading a needle through the delicate fabric. You couldn’t get over how soft it was. Practically weightless in your lap as you hunched over it on your stool. You had a record playing in the corner, atmospheric piano music flowing as it spun. You found the vinyl in a junkyard, untitled, composer unknown, but nonetheless, it was soothing. It was perfect for focusing. 

You placed the needle between your lips as you reached for the pins in the cushion in front of you. Your workspace was a disaster, as it usually was when you were in the zone, and you blindly patted for your tools. Like it was second nature, you pulled a pin from its spot and slipped it into the tear, pressing the pieces together. Just as you reached for the needle the bell chimed and the door opened. You didn’t look up, concentrated on your work. 

The customer stood by the door, inconveniently blocking the natural light that shone through the large bay windows. The lack of light broke your focus and you peeked up, curious as to who was in your space. 

“Oh, hello!” you said. It was the man from the other day, the blond. You lifted the piece in your lap, showing him your progress. “I’m working on it now.” 

You were avoiding working on the suit. You had done some additional work the day after John left the shop but part of you wanted him to suffer. He was in need of a reality check. The other part of you was just too curious about your newest customer, fascinated by the fabric he had brought in and you would be lying if you said you weren't as fascinated by him. Men who hovered in silence we typically terrifying but something about him was enigmatic. 

Blondie, you had decided to call him since he offered no name, slowly stepped inside. There was a hesitation in his walk, one you often saw in uncertain children or anxious adults. His eyes roved the room, falling on the record player, before trailing over the rolls and rolls of fabric that touched your shop ceiling to floor. There was enough fabric crammed into this small room that it could wrap around Julai twice. 

Blondie, once again, said nothing. He simply observed. Hand’s hanging at his sides. You attempted to strike up a conversation. “The music okay with you?” you asked, nodding towards the slowly spinning record. One of your favorite songs was playing now. You carefully pushed another stitch through, sucking your teeth as it caught again. This string was not working as well as you had hoped. You continued to talk even though you knew that he wasn’t going to reply to you. 

“You’re one of the only customers I have that actually came back while I work. Not that I’m complaining, I appreciate the company.” He shuffled his feet at the comment. “But it’s strange, you know? Typically people drop off and let me do my-” The door to the shop rang as another customer stepped in. Blondie stepped aside, letting them pass and you cursed. He should’ve stayed where he was you thought, I could have hidden behind him for a few more seconds at least. 

John and his henchmen stood in front of you. John had a wide grin on his face, his chipped teeth on full display.

“I thought, if I offered a bit of my time you could have the piece done by today.” John ignored the other man in the room, more focused on poorly seducing you into finishing his suit. Your eyes narrowed, irritation flaring. That was not going to happen.

“Sir, I told you, it will be done next week.” You said, firmly. How many times were you going to have to tell this guy the same thing? You felt like a broken record. John noticed the cloak in your hand and crudely reached for it. You jerked back, holding the piece out of his reach, if the counter wasn’t in the way he would have been able to grab it. “Why are you working on that piece of shit? I have had my order in for well over a week now!” He complained. 

“If you continue to act like this I will cancel your order.” You said. You had no real, meaningful threats against the man so you did the next best thing. 

“Who’’s piece is that? I will pay you twice to complete mine, and I will allow you to spend a night with me-” 

“Leave.” Blondie’s deep voice vibrated the air. Your head twisted from your neck as you moved to look at him, mouth agape. John turned, face redding at his second challenger. In his distraction, you gently folded the cloak and placed it securely beneath the counter before grabbing the box that contained John’s horrible suit. 

“And who are you?” Blondie grunted at John’s words, turning his head just slightly when the shorter man tiptoed into his space. You could see the spit flying from the man’s mouth as he complained, “I was here first, she will finish my piece if she knows what's good for her.” You carefully maneuvered your way around the counter, before shoving the box between the two men. Blondie didn’t budge but John stumbled back as you rammed the box into his chest. “Out of my shop, find someone else to service you.” The last thing you were going to do was let anyone harass you or your customers, reputation be damned. You pulled the downpayment from his initial drop-off out of your work apron, slamming it on top of the box, “thank you, and have a good day.” you said. 

John cursed, “You dare deny my-”

“Get out,” The blond's voice was rumbling, a near growl leaving his lips as he glared at John. You shivered at the tone. 

John, who finally seemed to get the point, huffed and snapped his fingers before thrusting the door open. “You’re going to regret this!” He called over his shoulder, his henchmen falling close behind. The door slammed shut with an echoing ring and you were left in the shop, piano music playing quietly in the background.

You spun, and trotted back to your counter, “ugh, men.” you groaned as you reorganized your space, John’s theatrics having rustled everything. The other man still stood silently, and you took the opportunity to comment, “So, you do talk? You got a name?” His gaze fell on you, but it wasn’t filled with palpable irritation like it had been with John. There was a glint of, what you thought, was amusement.

“Nai,” he said. You rose a brow, “is that your name?” you questioned. 

He grunted. 

“Nai it is then,” you followed with your name, “why don’t you stick around, I should be finished with a section of this soon. Then you can tell me if it’s to your liking.” 

Knowing Nai’s name did little to remedy the mystery surrounding him. He was still as strange as the day you met him but now with some newfound, unspoken acknowledgment, he often spent time in your shop while you worked. He’d enter, a lot of times, unannounced.

“Jesus, Nai!” Your basket of supplies nearly slipped from your grasp as you exited the back store room. Nai, wearing the same linen clothes from before, stood right in front of your counter focused on his cloak. He looked up at you and blinked.

“I’m going to attach bells to you or something, you can’t keep walking in like this.” As your heart eased you slid your basket on the counter and climbed onto your stool. You realized, even while sitting at an elevated height, that your head still only came up to the man’s chest. How tall was he, jeez? 

Your hands smoothed over the fabric and you sighed, the thread you had been using to mend the patches somehow came undone, the material practically dissolving overnight. 

“I’m not sure what happened, but all of my work just disappeared.” You thumbed one of the fissures, frustrated. “I grabbed my other threads to see if any of them work but I won’t  be able to try if they don’t even match the colors.” While you were first working on the material you noticed that it was a solid white, but as time progressed you noticed there was a blue, almost fluorescent shimmer to the pattern that decorated it. “Do you know what it’s made of?” Nai did not reply. 

“You’re not much of a conversationalist are you?” 

Just as you went to speak again, the door to your shop opened. An elderly woman, who was picking up a tailored dress for a wedding, entered the shop. You smiled warmly at her, maneuvering around Nai to greet her gingerly. While you walked her to a seat, answering a million questions old people tended to have stored away, you saw Nai exit the building from the corner of your eye. You glanced at the counter. The cloak remained.

“Dear, are you listening?” The woman asked. 

You turned to her and smile, amused, “Yes, ma’am. It was a pink dress, correct?” 

“Yes! You are such a smart girl.” You laughed.

You glanced at the door when you stood, you’d keep trying on the cloak. Realistically you should probably give it back to him, but you didn’t want to. Not yet, at least.

The next morning Nai entered the shop a little louder than usual. You heard a hud against the door and the bell on its frame rang. You turned, a vinyl in hand, as Nai stepped through the threshold. 

“Welcome back,” you said, you placed the vinyl carefully on the old record player. It was from the old world, several customers had informed you, and while you had little knowledge of what old-world tech was like you enjoyed it. New or old it was wonderful. 

You felt Nai step closer, hovering a foot away as you placed the stylus on the record. The fast pace and irregular sound fumbled from the blooming speaker that was suspended above it. “Oh?” You had never heard this one before, “this is cool.” You tapped along to the tune, enjoying the variety. You looked at Nai and snorted, his face was twisted. Like he had smelled something offensive, “Don’t like it?” You said, slipping the record cover into the shelf below the player. “And what do you know about pianos?” You teased me. Nai’s face changed again, this time a look of challenge flashing across his features. Hm.

You trotted behind the counter and pointed to his piece, it was a quiet day, no customers scheduled for pick up and there were no walk-ins, so you were luckily able to do some research on threading. “I still haven’t figured this out but—“ Nai’s large hand suddenly lifted from his pockets and he placed a small object on the table. It rolled into the cloak.

A spool of thread. But it wasn’t like the other thread you had in your collection, it shimmered under the lights and matched the fluorescent accents of the garb perfectly. You grabbed it. “For your cloak?” 

“Yes,” Nai said. You wanted to ask where he got it from but had a feeling he wouldn’t expand. You reached for a stray needle, stationing yourself in your seat before grasping the end of the string. You immediately felt a difference, it was smooth and the tension was much stronger than anything in your collection. You tongue the end, wetting the string, before carefully threading it through the eye of the needle. You struggled to cut it. “Wow, this is strong.” You said, mindlessly. When the thread snapped you smiled. Perfect.

“You can sit if you want,” you said, nodding towards a few waiting chairs by the door. Nai looked at them and moved, but inside of taking a seat, he stepped towards the wall beside your counter, leaning against it with his arms crossed in front of his chest. The muscles in his arms hardened at the movement, you looked away. 

You dove into your work with newfound excitement. The needle moved effortlessly, the thread following. What was this stuff made of? You thought as you let the music from the record coax you into a steady flow. You moved twice as quickly, the thread no longer snapping or catching as it pierced the fabric. You noticed that as you stitched, they disappeared; leaving behind a pristine, unblemished, and completed image of fabric. As if there had been no damage in the first place. Wow.

You finished in record time, just over an hour, and hand-folded the piece into a paper-lined box. “I’m going to keep this,” you said, as you plopped the thread into your box. Nai said nothing. You pushed the completed work across the counter and Nai dropped cash into your hand. You turned to your register, your back to Nai, and opened the drawer. As you counted you paused. 1,2,3,4. Wait, he gave you nearly twice as many bills as needed, and on top of that each bill was double the amount, there were at least 200 in cash in this stack. An outrageous amount of money for something so simple. You turned quickly, ready to hand him back the extra cash and the corresponding change but were greeted with nothing. He had left, again. 

But this time he took his cloak with him. 

Chapter Text

Vash dodges another of his brother’s advances, pirouetting out of the line of fire. The dulled blades of his Knives’ weapons whipped at him. Like liquid, they danced around his figure, and each time they got close enough, poised to strike, Vash would move faster. 

The two were sparring, a routine they had developed quickly after living with one another again. Knives purposefully muted the damage his blades produced and Vash switched out his bullets for dummies. Both weapons were still strong enough to cause heavy bruising but weren’t strong enough to kill. The adjustments were a courtesy. 

With arms crossed over his chest, and sweat on his brow Knives hovered in the cavernous room, grunting as his brother, once again, evaded his attack. Vash was the only individual who could challenge Knives’ strength. Forcing him to think, to strategize. 

Knives saw an opening, Vash had tripped over himself the gun in his hand clicking. Knives took the opportunity to finish him. The ropes of weapons swarmed Vash, diving for his ankles but just as he was about to strike Vash cried out. 

“Break!” 

Knives’ weapons fell. His jaw ticking. He didn’t know if he should believe him. Vash was notorious for playing tricks on him and sparring did not cure him of his childish tendencies. 

“What is wrong?” he asked, still hovering in the vast space. 

The younger twin flicked open his weapon, shaking it, and watched as half of the bullets fell from the barrel. He whined, closing one eye to examine the mechanism. “It’s jammed,” he said. 

Vash lifted the gun, clicking the barrel into place, and pulled the trigger. It clicked but didn’t fire. He grumbled. Repeating the same actions. He lifted it again, focused, and fired. There was a crack, and Knives’ ears rang as a small plume of smoke rose from the weapon.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Vash’s yelled. Knives looked over his shoulder. The bullet was lodged in the concert wall behind him, and a large fracture had bloomed around it. If he had not moved as quickly as he did it would have lodged itself into his shoulder. Dummy bullets be damned, Vash’s gun still had significant strength to it. “Are you hurt?” he asked, worried. Voice thick with gathering tears

“No, you missed me.” Knives said. 

Vash pushed the safety in place and slipped the gun into the holster at his hip. Knives placed his feet back on the ground. Vash’s winced again, raising a finger and pointing at his brother. “...Your cloak.” 

Knives peered at his shoulder. There was a large hole from where the bullet had passed through, the edges charred black. Although Knives came out unscathed his clothes did not. Again.

“I can fix it,” Vash said. Knives glared at him. No, he could not. Although he would begrudgingly admit that his brother had decent hand-eye coordination and could be considered one of the greatest marksmen known to man, he could not translate his talents to handicrafts. He was as steady with a needle as he was with a car. 

“I will get it fixed,” Knives said to him. His thoughts immediately fell to you and your shop and the unfortunately exquisite work you had done on his cloak. You struggled in the beginning, finding no solution to the repair of his clothes. He was unsurprised since the materials could only be found in his lab. But he…pitied you when he saw how you struggled. He decided to spare you the misery of fighting with the piece and supplied you with what would work best. You seemed to appreciate it. Good. Your work was far better than what the Doctor could have done. 

You were one of the least annoying humans he had met and since he had promised Vash that he would be cordial with the human race, he preferred to deal with you over anyone else. Like most humans, you thrived on serving others and seemed to enjoy it even more when you were paid. Like a pet. Knives found that aspect of humanity to be a bit more likable than the rest. 

Suddenly, the gun went off again. Knives rushed to shuffle away nearly tripping over himself as he did so. The bullet pierced the ground. As he stepped out of the way Knives caught the end of his cloak, and a resounding rip echoed. 

Vash winced, Knives sighed. 

“Sorry,” he said. 

“It’s already done,” Knives grumbled. 

Nai hasn’t been back since he paid you. Even though he said little to nothing when was there, it was odd not having his presence tucked away in the corner of your shop. You had opened late today, the weekend was approaching quickly and you had let the excitement for a few days off creep in. 

It was mid-morning and you muttered to yourself as you set out your signs and chairs and turned on the light in the window that read OPEN. A loud squeal startled you as you went to prop your shop’s door open. You turn, your hand still on the handle, and watched as a man pulled a single baby pink flower from a paper wrapping. You rose a brow. He had to have spent half of his life savings on that. Plants on Gunsmoke were rare, exceedingly but it wasn’t uncommon for people to mimic their imagery on advertisements or fabrics. You had never seen one yourself but you had heard whispers and comments from people who filtered in and out of her shop.

The woman, a petite thing with a precious blond bob, tackled her lanky boyfriend. His stained chef’s robe pressed between them. It was sweet, the sight, and you couldn't help but wonder what the flower smelt like.

“Hello.”

You screamed, hand tightening around the handle. You involuntarily jerked the door, ramming it right into your foot. You groaned in pain. Through teary eyes you noticed Nai, standing rigidly by the shop’s sign. “H-hello,” you wheezed. Why does he keep doing that?

Your gaze travels to the couple, they’re staring at you with disdain, probably upset that your embarrassing screech had interrupted their moment of intimacy. 

Nai followed your gaze, watching the couple as they toddled off tucked within one another’s arms.

You propped the door open, sliding a cracked piece of wood in between the door’s crack, before moving inside. A slight limp in your walk. You didn’t have to look behind you to know that Nai was following. 

While his appearance had surprised you, you were still happy to see him. You fell onto your stool, absentmindedly tapping your foot to distract you from the throb of your toes. You looked at him. He wore a similar outfit as when you first met him, but the shirt is looser. You were a little disappointed. 

“How are you today?” You asked, pulling your logbook. You scribbled down a few notes while waiting for a response. 

“Well,” he said. You peeked up at him. He was staring, his bright eyes boring into yours. You smiled, “oh, he is well today, is he?” His brow twitched. You went back to your notes, reviewing measurements and colors. Each time you commented on his statements there was a strange energy that oozed from him. It wasn’t threatening, but it was overbearing as if he was trying to keep you from speaking further. It was useless, really, he felt as threatening as a spitting kitten. 

Neither of you spoke, you wanted to see what he would do. You had been the one leading the conversations and you were curious as if he was going to try next. 

The silence must have become unbearable. “How are you?” The words sounded stiff on his tongue, but they were genuine. You hummed, flicking through more pages of your writings, “Good,” you said, “ready for the weekend.” 

Silence. 

You tried not to laugh. He stared at you and you stared back. 

He slowly placed a box on the table, the one you had stored his cloak in, and pushed it towards you. You eyed it. You stood, nudging your chair back and marking your place in the logbook. When you opened the box, you immediately noticed the waft of a sweet earthy smell. 

“Is something wrong with it?” Had you missed a stitch? Nicked it somewhere? You even had him try it on while he was in the shop, to make sure you got everything. 

“It needs,” his eyes darted to the corner of the room, before looking back at you, “repairs.”

“Again?” you said. You tucked your hands into the box, the fabric spilling out as you lifted it. Sure enough, there were two obvious marks of damage. A slash, similar to the damage you had first mended, and a bullet hole. “You were shot at?” 

Knives answered slowly, “...yes.” 

“Are you okay?” You observed him, there were no obvious wounds and he wasn’t walking strangely. 

“It missed me.” He said. 

“Huh,” you shrugged, “Okay, as long as you’re alright.” You remained standing as you pulled your supplies. You worked quickly. The damage would take no more than a few minutes to mend. You had the same upbeat song from before playing on the record. The vinyl had a longer tracklist but this was your third listen-through. You hummed along as your hands weaved the needle in and out of the fabric, giving the cloak a quick tug after each solidifying loop. 

“Do females like these?” Your eyes fell on Nai, finding his choice of words strange. He was facing you but his body was angled, his hand had fallen on one of your more expensive rolls of fabric. A vibrant pink floral print. The spool was thin, only a yard or two was available for use. You had procured it from a random traveling woman, who in an emergency came to you for repairs on her journey. You fixed her coat happily but she paid in fabric not coin. In hindsight, you probably should have declined the trade, the print was useless to you. No average person could afford it, but you didn’t want to be rude and she was so eager to offer it that you couldn’t say no. 

It's been sitting on your shelf for well over a year. 

“Like what? Flowers?” Your mind fell to the couple you saw around 30 minutes ago. The print was similar to that of the flower the man had given the woman, you had realized, but not exactly. It was like a ghostly mimic. Nai’s fingers trailed along the soft fabric and you forced yourself to look away. Focus on his face. His face . But that doesn’t do much to stop your racing heart either. 

“Some do.” You confirmed. 

“Do you?” he asked. His tone lacked the emotions one thought would follow, there was a hint of curiosity but no affection. He just wanted a yes or no answer. 

You shrugged, “Yes? I think they are pretty but I rarely see them.” We live on a desert planet for crying out loud, you knew of them. Everyone did.  “They are expensive around here. It takes a plant to grow them and I have zero connections to one.” Nai’s hand pulled back from the fabric like it had been burned, his hand hovering at his side. He locked up, his jaw clenching. 

“I think anyone would appreciate getting them.” You said, ignorant of his sudden shift. 

“Why?”

You hummed, pulling the last stitch and securing the ends. It was a quick fix, just as you had thought. You walked towards him, and as you spoke you swung it around his shoulders pinning it where it would naturally sit on him. Nai jerked at the motion, uncustomed to the proximity. “Because they are…nice. Pretty. Shows someone you care about them.”

The cloak looked strange, but when you realized you had positioned it wrong you hummed and fixed it. You walked around him, observing his figure from head to toe, making sure there was no hidden damage. The stitch you made blended seamlessly with the rest of the fabric. Perfect. Nai stood ramrod straight as you adjusted the piece one last time. Your hands hovered around his shoulders. You wanted to smooth the fabric down but decided against it. You absently wondered what he felt like under all of this.

You pointed to the burn mark, “Some hot soapy water should get that out. Just give it a good scrub and it’ll be good as new.” Silence followed your words, the music suddenly soft.

Nai reached for his pockets. You suspected he was reaching for payment. “Eh! No!” you said so quickly and forcefully that Nai froze. His eyes widened just a centimeter, it was slight but given that you had only seen him with that stony expression it was obvious. 

“You paid me far too much so I’ll just keep ten of the last payment and give you the rest back.” You shoved your hands into your apron, searching for the money. You cursed when you couldn’t find it. You must have left it in the safe. 

“Stay here,” you said, “let me get it out the back.” You darted into the spare room, tucking into the dark closet-sized space and making a beeline for the safe between the spare boxes and shopping bags. You pressed the code and grabbed the money. You counted it as you re-entered your workroom. Everything was there. You pressed your thumb against your tongue before yanking out ten in cash. The repairs were basic, there was no need to take more. You slipped the payment into your apron and spoke, “Here is everything. You gave me way more than needed. I appreciated the tip, really, but-” 

The shop was empty, and a stack of coins was piled on the counter. 

“That bastard.” You said but you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. 

“Why do humans give flowers as gifts?” Doctor Conrad looked up from his desk. Knivesdressed in his cloak, loomed over the elderly man. His gaze was sharp. The doctor rose a brow, confused. 

“Excuse me?” He said. 

Knives seemed to hesitate when he spoke but he nonetheless repeated him. “Why do humans give flowers as gifts? Especially to females?” Doctor Conrad held in a sigh. Ever since Vash returned to his brother's side, Millions Knives was slowly morphing into a man that the doctor did not recognize. Vash’s adventures left the elder twin curious, oftentimes eager, and even though he refused to admit it, he was undeniably happy that his brother had returned to him. He punished people less, there were fewer outbursts and he no longer kept himself locked away at his piano. But the most frustrating change was that he asked more questions and expected the doctor to have the answers to all of them.

Knives’ patience was waning as the doctor remind silent. He asked a simple question. All he wanted was an answer. 

“Humans, especially on earth, would give flowers as a gift.” When Knives did not respond he continued, “They were used for a plethora of occasions. Death, birth, romance. Parents would give them to children, partners to partners. It was not unusual to receive them when one was upset.” Knives lip twitched at the thought of using nature as an offering of affection. He didn't know how to feel about it.

He turned, unsatisfied with the man’s answer, and pulled the door open. 

“Where have you been going?” the doctor asked. Knives’ had been filtering in and out of his base for the past few days, spending most of his time observing you from afar. Initially, he wanted to keep his distance, but your actions left him curious. He had inched closer and closer each day,  finding himself once again in your presence. He would eventually grow bored of you. Human entertainment was temporary but he wanted to keep it while it lasted. He promised his brother he’d at least try to learn more about humanity and you were an easy study. 

Knives did not stop his exit, the words leaving his mouth without hesitation. 

“Out.” the door slammed shut behind him. 

You rushed into the weekend with nothing short of eagerness. The past week had been long and a long day out in the city was the perfect cure for your restlessness.

You breathed deeply, enjoying the crowds of the mid-morning market. It was busier than usual since it was the first of the month, and packed to the brim with vendors. Everything from basic easy-to-come-by produce, and meat to hand-widdled toys and vibrant fabrics. Craftsmen sold their wares and restaurants offered hot meals. 

You stopped in front of a particularly beautiful stall, flowing wrap dresses hung from wooden hangers, perfect for the heat. You felt the fabric, your skilled eye and practiced hands immediately decipher its quality. It was decent, you’d get a few years of wear out of it. You thought of purchasing it, you had enough money for a few leisure items but then you looked at the tag, your nose scrunching. It wasn’t worth that much. You dropped it, thanking the vendor with a sheepish smile, and tucked back into the crowd. 

There was nothing else that caught your eye as you walked, but there was a smell that did. You slipped into a long line, the booth at the end of it selling rich meat skewers. You stood on your toes as you looked over the crowd, there were quite a few people in line and you thought, for a brief moment, about stepping out but your growling stomach said otherwise. 

“Good morning.”

You jumped, squeaking at the sound of a deep voice. People in the line turned to look at you but you ignored them. 

“Nai!” You cried, your pressed your hand to your chest, willing your poor startled heart to calm. “I’m going to keel over one day and it's going to be your fault.” You gasped.

Nai rose a brow, eyes roving your body for maladies, “humans are that easily startled?” he questioned. You sighed, turning back to the line. A few people had stepped forward. You followed. Nai beside you. 

“What are you doing?” Nai asked his gaze following the line. His nose wrinkled at the smell that wafted from the booth, “and what is that atrocious smell?”

“I’m waiting for food,” you said simply, “and that smell is meat, grilled and smothered in sauce.” Your mouth watered at the thought of eating it. Just two more people to go. Nai’s look of disgust remained and you laughed. “Have you ever had it?” you said. 

“No,” Nai said. Your eyes widened. You had expected him to say yes, it was such a common dish that everyone had their own version of it. “Seriously?” you said. The two customers in front of you moved along as they took their food, chatting to one another as they drifted into the crowd. 

“I find this form of food to be—“

“What’ll it be?” The cook's gruff voice cut Nai off. The blonde glared. The cook was unphased. You tapped your chin, examining the small handwritten menu taped to the counter of the booth. It was stained and faded but the prices were clear, “two sweet-n-savory,” you said. The cook looked back at the men at the grill, yelling your order brashly. You smiled as you handed over payment, he exchanged it swiftly for change. Within seconds your skewers were offered to you. You thanked the man again and stepped to the side out of the flow of traffic; in between two neighboring booths. 

You offered one to Nai. 

The blond looked at you, perplexed. “Try it,” you said, gesturing towards the meat. Nai’s hand rose hesitantly. He carefully, as if avoiding your touch, took the skewer and sniffed it. You laughed, “It’s not poisoned!” You took a bite of yours, the temptation too strong. “Take a bite,” you said, as you took another. God, it was good. “You’ve never had one, right?” 

Nai followed your actions, but his bite was tentative. Barely a bite in all honesty and as soon as the food hit his tongue he flinched. He jerked it away from him, looking at it offensively. 

“Okay,” you laughed, finishing yours and taking his, “more for me then.” Not everyone liked meat skewers but, you were surprised you had actually met someone who didn’t. 

You finally noticed the bag in his hand, made of canvas and a decent size, it was knotted at the top, making a convenient handle. “That for me?” you questioned. 

Nai nodded. “Yes, I will pay you the equivalent amount for your services.” He talks so strangely, you mused. 

“Well, my shop is closed today,” Nai titled his head. You continued, “It's the weekend! I’m off.”

“I’ll fix it, but it won’t be done till next week. I’ll have to work on it at home.” The last thing you wanted to do was go into your shop on one of your days off unintentionally notifying the public that you were working. In reality, you could easily turn them away, but you would rather save yourself the stress. You threw your sticks into the garbage as you stepped back out into the flow of traffic. You felt Nai follow, “But you get to carry it around until I’m ready to leave.” 

Nai seemed put out by your commanding comment, offended that you would tell him to do such a thing. You found the face he made amusing. “You aren’t very good at hiding your emotions you know,” he stilled his features. You laughed. “Come on, I promise I’ll fix them if you just carry them around. Do you have any plans today?” You weren’t going to keep him if there was somewhere he needed to be, but you would've liked him to stay. The company, although strange, was welcoming. 

“No,” Nai said. He slung the bag over his shoulder, carrying it casually as you walked. “Good! Enjoy a day out with me.” You said. 

The two of you window-shopped. Well, mostly you windowed-shopped. You ‘ooo’d' and ‘aaahh’d’ at every little toy and present. Complementing the things you found most beautiful. Nai did nothing, really. He followed you around, only grunting whenever you asked him for an opinion on something. 

You were looking at a delicate piece of jewelry when you noticed that the blond was no longer a foot behind you. You looked up, placed the piece on the table, and searched the crowd.

Nai was standing at a woodcarver's booth, the seller was trying to speak to him but Nai was staring at the small statues lined across the table. When you made it to the booth you looked around the blond’s tall frame, following his line of sight. 

It was a flower, carved and painted so delicately that it looked like the real thing. 

You picked it up, tilting it from side to side as you examed each petal. You could feel Nai’s gaze on you. You lifted the carving to your nose, smelling it. You were only greeted with the rich scent of wood. “I wish I knew what it smelt like,” you said, chuckling. The shop owner smiled, agreeing. “I hear they smell sweet,” he said. “My eldest daughter gave one to her younger sister during her wedding, really outdid all our gifts I think.” 

"That's wonderful,” you smiled sadly as you placed the work back on the table. It was a charming collectible but you had no need for it, so you thank the man, offered him praise for his talents, and stepped away. You had no family in Julai. City life was not for most of them, and as a result, you had grown distant, and separated. You often thought of them, wishing they could be here with you. See how well you were doing for yourself. “Siblings sound like a lot of fun, huh?” you said mindlessly. Fingers dancing along a set of windchimes from an adjacent booth. 

“They are not as fun as you would think,” Nai said. You paused. Oh? Does he have siblings? 

You smiled sadly, a sense of melancholy filling you. You did little to hide it as you watched a brother-sister pair dart across the walkway, their mother chasing them. “I have no family here,” you said, casually. Nai observed you, his eyes unwavering, but you didn’t look at him. “They are either gone or somewhere else, I wish they were here with me. I’d give anything to live with a sibling.” You rarely admitted it but while Julai was lively and fun, it could also be suffocating and lonely. You often wished you had someone to come home to, someone to check up on, and someone to check up on you. Anything, really. That would be nice. 

You shook your head, not wanting to wallow. “But it is what it is!” you said, your smile not as wide. “Now, come on. I want to show you some of the ridiculous games they have at these things.” You marched forward, gesturing for Nai to follow you. 

Your smile widened, genuinely, when he did.

Nai stood in his library, a place he rarely visited, puzzled by the books that lined the shelves. There was a section, supplied by Doctor Conrad that focused on the aspects of human psychology, emotions, actions, and everything in between. His finger trailed the shelf as he searched for the best fit for his work. 

You were his study, and a study required additional resources, especially when humans seemed to change emotions as quickly as they did. You were abnormally content at the market, despite the overbearing crowds and ungodly levels of noise. Nai had gone to your shop that day carrying Vash’s clothes in his hand. His brother had damaged his own shirts by doing something ridiculous. A new trick, he had explained. 

His plan was shattered when he realized your shop was closed, the lights off and the door locked. He growled at the revelation and was stomping his way back home when he stumbled across the crowds. He tried to avoid them, but the market was so large that he was practically shoved into the crowd by a passing group. When he attempted to navigate his way out, he saw you standing in a large line with anticipation. Everything took off from there and he found himself experiencing human life in a way he had never before. 

Now, well after the exchange he was left with more questions than answers regarding both you and your humanity. 

The blond pulled a book titled How We Feel: Human Reactions to the World Around Us from the shelf. It was dated well before any of the seeds ships had landed on Gunsmoke, clearly published back when Earth was thriving with life. The book was in decent condition, and he thumbed through it. He skimmed the table of contents but had no idea what he was looking for. 

Humans found happiness in the most trivial things. He had once seen a child kicking a rock along the metal walkways with a wide grin, a mother laughing at some outlandish comment their child had said, men cheering over alcoholic drinks. You smiling while you waited in line for food. You when you saw the couple exchanging sickingly sweet words in the street. You when you-

“Hey, bro. What are you doing?” Nai flinched and slammed his book shut, startled. He closed his eyes to gather himself before looking at his twin. Vash was hovering just beside him, uncomfortably close in the large room. Nai had grown so used to the man’s presence that his body did not go into automatic defense mode when he entered the room. Vash had his hands clasped behind his back and a look of innocence on his face. 

“Reading,” Nai said. 

“About?” Vash’s voice raised to a teasing pitch, eyes bright.

“Humans,” Nai said. Vash gasped, “Really?” He snatched the book from his brother's hand and reviewed it. Nai tried to grab it back but Vash held it out of reach. “ How we feel…” A knowing smile stretched across his face. Nai looked away. His brother beamed.

“So! What do you want to know?” Vash opened the book and flicked through the pages, not actually reading any of its content. 

Nai hesitated. His brother was the supposed expert between the two of them, but Vash’s advice was often lacking decent context. He only knew what he experienced, which had set humanity and their interactions to a limited sphere. 

“What do humans do when they are upset?” Nai thought of the way you tensed as you spoke about your absent family. How your eyes filled with something a bit heavier than sadness, but he also remembered how quickly your mood had changed. He had been around Vash long enough to know that the sadness you felt still remained, despite the smiles.

“What do you mean?” Vash fell into one of the square lounge seats in the room. The white leather was stark against his red and black clothes. 

“When humans are upset,” Nai repeated, “what do they do to cure it?” 

“What do you do?” Vash countered casually. Well, he had been upset for nearly all 150 years of his long long life, and his anger and sadness were translated into an attempt at genocidal warfare. 

“I am not sure,” Why couldn’t his brother just answer him? He always played these little games. 

“Sometimes humans will…isolate themselves,” Vash said, glancing down at the text in his hand, “sometimes they’ll work to distract themselves, sometimes they will give gifts if they notice their friend is-”

Nai’s thoughts immediately went to items he saw in the market. The flowers he saw the couple exchange.

“You give humans gifts when they are sad?”

“You can.” Vash said, “But most prefer—” 

Nai turned, immediately exiting the room and leaving Vash to listen to his words alone. 

Vash watched as the door slid shut behind his brother. “—to simply talk about it with their loved ones.” The blond smiled. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Nai was doing. He was trying to understand, and it seemed the little seamstress that he had been visiting so frequently had something to do with it. 

Vash slipped the book back onto the shelf, before strolling out of the room his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. He was curious to see how this all played out but for now, he had to find that missing pair of damaged clothes he was planning on fixing. He only had a few sets, and he couldn’t afford to damage another one. 

If only he could remember where he put them!

You were hunched over your coffee table, the dark clothes stretched atop it. A warm cup of tea and an empty plate, dusted with crumbs from your breakfast, sat tucked just beneath the lip of the table. You were careful not to knock it over with your feet. Your window was open and you could hear the muted chatter from the city. Your drying clothes hanging on the balcony’s clothesline provided shade from the sun. It was quiet. Tranquil.

Reaching for your drink you sipped at it casually. The herbal taste delightful. 

It was the second day of your weekend and you were spending it working. Nai had left you at the market, you could tell by the way he fidgeted that he was not enjoying the crowds and disappeared when you made the first comments of wanting to head home. You let him go without complaint. It was nice spending the day with him. Different, even. You were so used to doing everything on your own that you relished in his company. He spoke more than usual, and you even managed to learn he had some family. You mused about what he was like with family. Everyone acted differently with those they were raised around and you were curious if he was just as silent with a sibling as he was with you. 

Did he have a mother too? Brothers? Sisters? Was he the oldest or the youngest? By the way the way he carried himself you would say he was the oldest.

Despite the remaining mysteries of the blond, there was one thing you knew for certain. The clothes he gave you yesterday were not his. They were too small. The average person wouldn’t have picked up the differences but after spending years sewing dresses and tailoring suits you had a keen eye for measurements. The shoulders were wide, yes, just as Nai’s were but there was no way his general shape could slip inside these clothes comfortably. You had Nai try on his cloak twice in your presence, and his muscles were large. They were hard to ignore and you weren’t exactly apt about hiding your admiration for them, so it wasn't hard to spot the difference in definition of the fabric.

This was definitely someone else's clothes. You pondered as you stood. Why did he bring it to me then? You thought. You placed your cup upon your sewing drawers and rifled through the supplies. The shirt was riddled with bullet holes, not dissimilar from the one you mended on Nai’s coat. What did these people get up to around here? You had mended clothes after fights before but doing it more than once for the same person was strange. 

You cursed as you continued to dig. Had you not replenished your drawers? Everything that was in there were all items of obscurity. Pink thread and pale blue lace, mismatched buttons, and bright ribbon. Nothing you could use to fix the item. You sighed. You said you’d have the items done by tomorrow, and Nai was a punctual man. You pushed the drawer shut, grumbling as you grabbed a bag and shoved the shirt and pants into it. You drowned your drink in two heavy gulps before stomping out the door. 

You were going to have to go to work today. 

It was warm, the sun having only ascended into the sky a few hours ago. The heat of the day was strong, but not its strongest. You tucked into the shadows of the city, avoiding the rays, and walked the few blocks to your shop. When you shuffled around the corner you noticed an abnormal volume of citizens clustered around the walkway. Your area was busy at times, with its popular shops and restaurants but never like this. 

Nearly the entire street was crowded around your shop, the chatter increasing as you approached. 

“Have you ever seen that many?” someone gasped. 

“Mama, what are those called?” A daughter called.

“I’m not sure, sweetheart.” Her mother replied.

Two men were bickering.

“Are they poisonous?”

“Why would they be poisonous, you idiot!”

“How am I supposed to know! I don’t study those things.”

“Why didn’t you get me those? Those are a lot prettier!” It was the couple from the other day, the woman slapped the man on the back in disappointment.  

You pushed past the people. “Excuse me! This is my shop!” The crowd parted, letting you through. One person bitterly commented, “So, why did you receive those?” You couldn't find them in the crowd but the way your face twisted in confusion was enough to tell everyone you had no idea what they were talking about. 

Shuffling past the last person you sighed in relief. “What are you guys looking a-” You gasped, eyes wide at the image in front of you. 

There was a vase of flowers sitting just outside of your door. Ones you had never seen before. They were red, and pink complimented with smaller white and orange flowers throughout. It was delicate, and the vase was clear giving a view of the bright green stems beneath.

"How much do you want for them?” someone suddenly said. You jerked, confused.  “I-I umm…”

“I know a man who will pay a hefty price for plants like that.” They said. You stumbled over your words, unable to get anything out. Those weren’t for you! They couldn’t be? You hesitantly stepped towards the vase, leaning down and picking it up gingerly. They smelled divine; you couldn’t help but lean into them, your nose brushing against the soft petals of the largest red flowers. Your hand suddenly knocked against something sharp; you peered inside the bouquet and caught a glimpse of a white card. There was no sender name attached. Just the words, “A gift,” followed by your name were written in plain black ink.

You were confused, to say the least. They were, in fact, for you. Without looking back at the crowd, you could feel them creeping closer, you dug your shop keys from your pocket, picked up the bag holding the clothes, and tucked the vase against your chest. You carefully moved to the door unlocking it with one hand and using your foot to prop it open as you shimmied inside. The door slammed shut with a bang, you quickly locked it and pulled down the shade. No one could see in and you could not see out, and by the crowd's groan, they clearly disapproved of it. 

You set your bag and the vase on the counter and sighed. Your fingers trailed along the leaves and rubbed the soft petals. 

Who in the world sent me these? You thought, unable to think of any individuals who could afford a set like this. Your hands fell to your hips, mind racing. If anything, they were a welcome surprise and did well to chase away the creeping self-loathing that had been inching through your person since yesterday. Someone cared, it seemed. Even if you didn’t know who they were. 

They cared.

You finished your work swiftly that evening, the gift adding an extra boost to your hand. The thoughts of your mysterious gift giver were as strong as ever as you settled in for the night. 

You sighed as you watched yet another crowd of people come and go from your shop. None of them wanted to employ you, oh no, they wanted nothing to do with that. They simply wanted a look at the flowers you had received. It was like you had become a local traveling stop, where people gawked and awed at your gift as if it was the most surreal thing in the world. 

You found it funny at first when a few kids asked to examine them, but now you were growing frustrated, you had things you needed to do, and watching people stare at flowers was not one of them. 

“Alright alright,” you said, waving your hands dismissively, “everyone out. I should start charging you for all this.” You added. The people grumbled their discontentment but filtered out of your space. You watched them leave with a sigh before glancing over at the vibrant flowers that sat at your workstation. “You are far more trouble than your worth, you know.” As you made your way back to your seat you heard the door chime open. You sighed, turning on your heel “I’m sorry but unless you have something you would like me to fix, I’m closed. No more flower observation.”

“Even if it’s for one of your favorite customers.” 

Your blood ran cold. Your eyes widen. You took a step back bumping into the counter. It was John. He wore a maroon suit and held a cigar between his crooked teeth. He looked the same physically but there was a twist to his lip and a twitch in his nose that told you he wasn’t here for business. 

Several men, far more than what he typically walked around with, stepped up behind him. Their bodies filled every inch of the room. 

“Now, about that suit you never finished.” He said, smirking. 

Fuck. 

Chapter Text

You assessed the situation as quickly as you could, as clearly as you could with so many men in your shop. You controlled your breathing to the best of your ability while your racing heart pounded uncomfortably against your ribs. You thought you had successfully run him off, a bad attitude and purposefully poor customer service should have done it, but clearly he had more he wanted to say. 

You were an idiot for thinking he didn’t.

He said your name, his tone condescending. “Did you think that you wouldn’t have consequences for what you did to me?” 

Your eyes narrowed, and despite the fear that coursed through you spoke, “What did I do to you?” You wanted him to admit that he hadn’t gotten his way. 

He scoffed and his men stepped forward. You were still safe behind the counter, and the backroom was just to your right but there was no way that was going to be of any use to you. There was no other exit other than the front door. The buildings in Julai were tucked against one another, packed and stacked together in ways to make use of all available space. Your shop was attached to others, and like everyone else, emergency exits were nonexistent. 

Your hip hit the counter behind you, knocking you from your thoughts. John continued his speech, “I think you would do far better with me than in this shop. Wouldn’t you say?” You held in a gag.

“I’d rather not,” you said, your voice shaking. John had caught the waver and his smirk only widened. 

“You can be my personal seamstress, wouldn’t that be wonderful?” He moved to your stacks of fabrics, running his grimy hands across the material. Streaks of cigarette soot and dirt smeared across the fabric, staining the cotton. As he basked in his own words your hand slowly moved behind you. You patted the counter, looking for something, anything, that could help you. 

Your fingers brushed against a pair of scissors. You gripped them tight. 

You shuffled to the door of your closet. While you couldn’t escape you could still separate yourself from them. If you could make your way inside, you would at least be able to lock yourself in. He couldn’t get to you. They’d grow bored and leave. You’d be safe. 

John stopped when he heard you move. He clicked his tongue and his men surrounded you. One made a deliberate move to squeeze himself between you and the door, barricading it with his body. You were cornered. John pushed past them, stepping in front of you. 

He lifted his hand and grasped your chin, his fingers cold and oily. They smelt of smoke and grim. Your nose wrinkled and you instinctually pulled back. John tugged you forward and sneered, “You work for me now. I will pay how I see fit.” 

“All of this because I left a hole in your ass?” the snarky comment left your mouth before you could stop it. You immediately regretted it. John lifted his hand and your head snapped to the side. The pain traveled from your temple to your cheek. He had slapped you, hard. There was no doubt that a bruise was going to form, you hoped nothing was broken. He yanked your face towards him again, spitting as he spoke. “I will ruin your business.” he hissed, “no more customers and no more cash. I have more connections than you could imagine, and I will be overjoyed when you are kneeling at my door for assistance. Like a common whore.” You spit, your response clear. John cursed and went to hit you again. 

You had an open shot. 

You rose your hand and swung, but John’s men were faster. They grabbed you, one around the shoulders; the other yanking back your wrist. He squeezed and you gasped, dropping the scissors as your hand pulsed with pain. 

“Aw, dear, that wasn’t the wisest idea on your part but I do enjoy the fire in your eyes.” He trailed his finger along your jaw and you kicked, weakly knocking him in the shin. These guards were huge, and their strength and height dwarfed you. Realistically, you had no chance against them. John found the poor attack amusing and smiled. “I have friends in high places, you know. Hunters and outlaws who I work closely with, and quite a few owe me a favor. Why, Millions Knives offered me one just the other day. I may take him up on it.”  You felt the henchman holding you stiffen, your own breath catching.

Rarely anyone knew what Millions Knives looked like. He was a shadow in the night and if you ever met him coming out alive was considered a blessing. He worked for no one and worked with few. But despite not knowing what he looked like, everyone, including you, understood his power and prayed they never saw it.

“Just remember that, beautiful.” John pulled away, “I look forward to seeing you again,” he said. Just before he left the shop he held up his hand, a gesturing command. 

“Make sure the shop is…presentable, boys.” The asshole snuffed out his cigar on the roll of flora fabric, burning a hole straight through the delicate and expensive material. He reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a cigarette. “I’ll be waiting outside.” 

As soon as he past the threshold, insanity ensued. The two men did not release you but the other henchmen moved to your shelves. Your eyes widened, and you gasped as the men began to pull items from their storage. They unraveled the fabrics, going out of their way to rip them down the middle, the sound mimicking your own resolve before letting them pile onto the floor. You bucked, unthinking, shoving against the men who restrained you. “Stop! Let me go!” Your voice cracked and you could feel the tears gathering. Everything was being destroyed. 

You should’ve counted yourself lucky as the men knocked over your workstation and watched as your supplies scattered but you were so distraught that your safety didn’t register. 

You watched as one of the men, the tallest, stepped towards your record player. “No, please don’t.” You begged. That was the nicest thing you owned, despite its age, and you loved it. It was a part of the old world, a different world and you had grown deeply attached to the music. The man laughed as he plucked a few records from the shelf beside it. He looked at them, huffing in boredom before breaking them across his knee. They snapped in half. You choked. He let them fall to the floor before grabbing the player. He picked it up and you cried out, “Stop!”

Everyone in the space froze, your voice silencing them. The man who held the player, his grin sinister, kept his eyes locked with yours as he let it slip from his hands. It fell to the ground, knocked against his feet, and splintered. The wooden base cracked and the speaker snapped, clattering against the tiled floor. The brass echoed like a gunshot. 

Another man, short and round, noticed your flowers. The last thing left untouched in your shop and reached for it but John’s voice stopped him. You sagged as the henchmen’s hovering fingers retracted.

“Men, it’s time to go.” John had cracked the door open, directing his men. “Don’t want to draw too much attention now.” The men released you and followed their leader’s command. You collapsed to the floor. Shocked. 

One by one, the men left, making sure to kick and stomp on the items in their path. John smiled, saluting you, “Remember what I said, seamstress. I’ll be by later to check on you.” 

The door rang as it shut behind him. 

You burst into tears.

Why did he do that? Why did he do that ? Knives’ slammed his hands against the piano keys, the dramatic melody dissolving into disconnected chords. He had no idea why he had given you those flowers. 

No clue as to what forced him to do anything about your sadness. Your sadness was your own, he was obligated to watch over no one but his brother.

You were everything he disliked. You talked too much. You were weak. You were messy. You were human. The very thing he detested. But there was something that kept him going back. He didn’t take his brother’s clothes to you because he found your work was needed, Vash could fix them himself. He took those clothes to you because he wanted an excuse to get close again. Watching you from afar wasn’t enough, comparing you to other humans was inaccurate because you were so different from the rest of them.

His chest ached when you expressed your dislike for being alone, the pain only increasing when you chose to hide that smile. He sees his brother do the same all the time.

He groaned, running a hand down his face. Everything was too much, all of this. Vash’s lessons did little to nothing to quell his dislike for humanity, he didn’t want to know anything about them but he wanted to know everything about you. He stood at the realization, kicking the bench behind him and slamming the keys again. 

Curse his brother for teaching him these things. Curse his brother for making a deal with him about humanity. Curse his brother for making him learn. 

And curse Rem, for getting him attached to nonsensical tales of emotions. 

Knives growled as he jerked away from his piano. His cloak caught on the leg on his bench. He stumbled forward, crashing to the floor, just barely catching himself as a loud rip echoed across the space. He looked behind him, yanking the fabric from its trap. It was ripped. A sizeable gash trailed from the base of the fabric to halfway up his calf. The cursed thing had never been this sensitive before so why was it acting up now? He tugged it free, sitting up and holding it in his hands. It would need to be fixed.

But he didn’t feel the annoyance he hoped he would, he felt…giddy at the idea of seeing you again. 

And to make matters worse, he didn’t understand why. 

Unfortunately, Knives did not go and see you the day he damaged his coat. Doctor Conrad had stopped him, lectured him on his disappearances, and practically forced him to work on their current research. It took every ounce of Knives to not cut him where he stood, but he needed the Doctor if they were going to find any success. 

The work had kept him occupied for most of the day, and by the time it was over, it was well into the night. You wouldn’t have been at your shop. He was eager to go and see you, but he knew that humans needed more rest than plants, and you were most likely asleep. 

So, as he waited for the sun to rise he busied himself with studying. He had spent more time in this library in the past few weeks than he had in his lifetime. He now sat hunched over a desk with a pile of books all dedicated to the subject of humanity beside him. They were written by, for, and about humans. Some of them were useful, others were fanciful tales. He always pushed away the stories of fiction. They weren’t useful for what he was looking for. 

And what was he looking for? Knives didn’t even know. An answer? To what? The heaviness he feels in his chest when you smiled at him? The excitement he developed at the idea of seeing you? The anticipation. The nervousness. That is what those feelings were, right? Why did he, a superior being, a plant with powers beyond the human imagination, could feel things that only humans were meant to feel? 

Knives shoved another book aside, a fairytale that he had no need for, before picking up one of the larger books in the stack. Like the psychology text, it was from the old world. Well worn and aged, but the leather remained sturdy. He read the title. 

Mating Rituals of Early Humans it said.

Interesting. 

Knives flipped the book open. The table of contents was faded but decipherable. ‘Introduction’ pages i-ix, ‘The Community’ pages 1-54, ‘Males’ pages 55-150, ‘Females’ pages 150-250.

Knives immediately flipped to the chapter titled ‘Females’. 

The patterns of speech were ridiculous but Knives deciphered the human author's words with ease. 

Women are, in many cases, the backbone of early society but do not have as many strengths as the man. They are nurtures, providers of hope, and the carrier of man. Words bled into one another as Knives skimmed the paragraphs. He didn’t know what he was exactly looking for but the rituals and practices mentioned he did find intriguing. 

If a male wanted the attention of the female, the best way to go about this was in a display of strength , Knives rose a brow, curious. Humans hosted competitions over their females? He continued: Men would battle against one another, physically, to display strength and their ability to protect. These battles were often violent but well-planned events. If a male noticed another pursuing his choice of female he would confront them with a ceremonial object of challenge. If the object is declined, the offender has announced his plan to cease contact with the female if he accepts he announces that he will fight for her. Following formal acknowledgement a day and time is set, and the appointments fight. Both with weapons and their bare hands. It was not uncommon for the opponent to leave the arena deceased. The body of the individual who lost is offered to the woman as a sign of courtship.

Males must also show their ability to provide. Food, the meat of a large game animal was best. Offered to the woman of the group as a display of their skills—

“Now, what are you reading?” Nai released an irritated sigh. His brother always seemed to show up at the most inconvenient times.

Vash bent at the hip, contouring his body to look at the cover of the book without actually picking it up. His spiky hair swayed and his glasses fell to his forehead as gravity pushed at them. He squinted. 

“Mating Rituals of Early Humans? Seriously?” Vash pawed at the book, picked it up, and turned to the publication page, “This was written in the early 1900s. Nai, it’s over 12 centuries old.” 

Vash’s face twisted in amusement, “Wow, I can’t believe it lasted this long, actually.” 

“It is a part of the Doctor’s Collection.” 

Vash chuckled, “Of course it is.” 

Vash continued, much to Nai’s displeasure, and skimmed through a paragraph. “‘…but do not have as many strengths as men’” he read. “Wow, Meryl would hate this.”

“Is it not accurate?” Nai questioned. The descriptions seemed logical. How would a human woman decide on a partner without knowing where said partner's strengths lie? 

“It may have been right then,” Vash said, “but not now.”

“And how do you know this?”

Vash muttered something, his face burning red. He refused to look at him.

“What?”

He muttered again. Nai’s irritation grew, “Don’t mumble, brother. We are no longer children!” Vash had a problem with muttering when he was nervous. 

“I’ve been with a few women, alright? and I can tell you no woman likes being fought over like she’s merchandise.”

“It does not say she is merchandise.”

“Trust me, that’s what they mean.” He didn’t expand further and read another section aloud.

“‘During a courting session’,” Vash said, his finger trailing the words on the page, “‘gifts or tokens are offered to the female as a form of appreciation.’ Aw, we’ll see that’s nice.” The blond held up the book and flipped it toward Nai, showing him the pages. “Meryl would agree with that. Maybe I should get her something…Wolfwood too. I haven’t in a while.” He muttered.

“Gifts?” Nai asked. He thought of the flowers he had sent you. Those were to cure your sadness, and he had yet to know if they did but they could qualify as a gift.

“And what else can I give her?” 

“Give who?” Vash said, a teasing smile on his lips. He knew that his brother was visiting the seamstress but he honestly knew nothing else about her. Nai has grown secretive over the years, so he wasn’t hurt or shocked that his brother didn’t confide in him about this. It’s what he had grown used to. Being alone.

Nai backpedaled, looking away, “What gifts would a male give a female?” Vash held in a snort of laughter

“Well, I got Wolfwood some nice cigars once. He loved them.”

“The Punisher is male. What about your female bedmate.”

“Please don’t call her that.”

“Is that not what they are?”

“They’re a little more than that, Nai.”

“What are they then? Do they not warm your bed.”

“Well, yes but we do other things like spending time together? Dates. Humans do that when they are interested in someone-“ 

“For companionship?”

“Yes, I guess? But it’s a bit more than companionship. It’s romance—“ Vash paused, shaking his head, “Wait, wait, we’re talking about gifts, Nai.”

“Yes. Continue.” He made a mental note to read up on the human concept of romance. 

“You give gifts to people you like. Meryl likes books since she was a journalist.”

“Books? They are gifts.” He looked at the pile on the table. 

“One of the many things that can be—“

Nai shot up from his seat, moving to the shelves. He disappeared into the stacks and rifled through the spines until he found the book he thought you would enjoy most. 

Flowers: A Unique Meaning. Yes, this would work with what he had already given you. 

Millions Knives left the shelves with his head tucked into the book, flipping through the pages. He stepped out of the room, unphased by his brother’s attempts to collect his attention.

“Nai! Hey, Nai!” Vash called, “Nai are you going to clean all this up? There’s like a million books, I don’t know where they go—you’re ignoring me. Great.” Vash whined. The large pile of books stared back at him. 

“Guess I’ll just do it myself,” he sighed, before grabbing a few more texts from the pile. He smiled gently. If his brother was willing to learn more about humanity, he’d be happy to put as many books away as needed.

You had slept at the shop, curled amongst tattered fabrics. You had spent the majority of the night cleaning. Placing things back where they belonged, which were few, and throwing away items that were broken, which were many. You were exhausted when you woke the next morning, body aching from the work, face bruised and swollen from John’s hand. 

You rubbed at your face, holding back tears as you surveyed the shop. You tried your best to place everything back where it originally was but it all looked off. Rolls of fabric were no longer color-coded, your supplies shoved into random drawers, and your record player, still broken with the speaker laying across the turn table, was on its stand but was as useless as you felt. 

“What am I going to do,” you whispered. You hiked yourself from the ground with the help of your workstation. That had taken you a while to right again, the weight of it heavier than you remember. As you struggled to stand, legs shaking after being curled so tightly during the night, you inhaled deeply. The sweet smell of flowers fills your senses. 

Your bouquet.

It was still intact, the flowers were a bit wilted but it was nothing dramatic. You wanted to lay in them. Their smell filtering out the dirt and dust and damage, that surrounded you. You grabbed your broom, picked up the remaining fabrics, and went to open your shop for business. The door was left unlocked, you were lucky no one came wandering in during the night. Honestly, you wouldn’t have cared. 

You forego setting out your sign and simply flicked on the light in the window. Hopefully, no one showed up today. You’d have some sense of peace and quiet. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the window’s reflection and the tears nearly spilt again. Your cheek was purple. It was tender to the touch, but your eyes and ears had been spared. Thankfully. Finding no desire to look at your broken face longer than needed you dragged yourself back to your station. You silently worked through your tasks for the day, muttering yourself into a trance.

The bell rang and robotically you spoke, “Hello, Welcome. What can I do for—Nai.” 

You gasped his name like a prayer and everything from last night came rushing back. Part of you wanted to say John’s threat was full of shit but now knowing the influence and money that man had over Julai’s underground, you knew there was validity to it. You had to force yourself to keep from wailing. What was Nai going to do? Realistically? Nothing. He couldn’t protect you from John, you couldn’t even tell him about what happened. 

And if John truly had Millions Knives in his back pocket you were screwed if he caught you.

Nai surveyed the room, his eyes falling on the mark on your cheek. You swiftly reached up and covered it. The gesture makes your skin sting. You wince. 

“What happened.” It wasn’t a question.

You worked through scenarios, trying to come up with something that made the most sense but didn’t give away John’s involvement. The last thing you wanted to do was make Nai his target as well. 

“A bunch of thugs,” you laughed awkwardly, “came in last night right before I locked up. Ranscated the place, pushed me around.” You pulled your hand away. Nai stepped closer. “It’s not a big deal.” It even hurt to smile. “The idiots didn't even take any money, I think they just wanted to scare someone.” And scare you they did. 

Nai’s eyes narrowed, and the glare he gave you was not like the ones from the market, or from the day you met him. It was sharp, hard. “Who were they.” His voice was riddled with ice. You shivered. 

“U-Um, I don’t know!” You said less confidently. “Some teenagers I’m sure. Want to be gang guys, they weren’t very smart. They ran off when they did get what they wanted.” You shrugged. 

“You are lying.” He repeated. He didn’t believe you. You gulped, stumbling over your words as you changed the subject. “Look someone gave me flowers!” You said. Please take the hint. Please take the hint. Please, take the hint. You didn’t want to explain everything. You didn’t want to drag him into this. 

Nai’s eyes fell on the bouquet. His hand reached forward, hovered over the flowers, and you could have sworn you saw them perk up. Their stems move, just slightly, as Nai’s hands flutter around them. Chasing his palms. You blink. You’re exhausted. 

When Nai’s hands fall, the flowers remain. The wilt to them is no longer evident. 

It took you a moment but you finally noticed that Nai carried something with him. A bag. You tried to make a joke, “Do you need me to fix something again?” He wasn’t wearing his cloak.

“No.”

Oh.

The awkward silence was murderous, and if you didn’t get your hands on something soon you were going to go crazy. Maybe you could find something to make, anything, even if it was from the scraps of fabric that were piled in the trash bin. You just needed to keep your hands busy, your mind occupied. Maybe you should make something nice for yourself, that floral print would have been perfect. No one was going to purchase it anyways.

Just over Nai’s shoulder, you saw a shadow duck past your window. Your breath caught, but Nai’s shuffling immediately pulled you from your growing panic. 

You watched as he reached into the bag and pulled out a book, the cover was green, the pages yellowing. It was antique, definitely. 

He placed it on the counter and carefully slid it towards you. “‘Flowers and Their Meaning,’” You read aloud. Where did he get this, and why was he giving it to you?

You gingerly accepted it, carefully flipping through it. The pages were filled to the brim with illustrations of different flora. Green and rich and in colors you would never see on Gunsmoke. Your eyes widened, filled with wonder. Your reaction would have been far more enthusiastic if you weren’t so tired. You sighed, unintentionally, when your face throbbed. You said nothing as you continued to examine the pages, yawning. 

Wait, how did he know you received them? You hadn’t seen him since they arrived. 

“Nai? Where did you-” When you looked up he was gone. He hadn’t made a sound when he left. 

Your eyes fell on the door. There was no one there but the thought of Nai’s strange coincidence remained. Did he? You looked at the flowers, then the book, and back again. 

He couldn’t have? Could he?

Knives’ piano bench flung across the room, crashing into the wall with a shattering echo. If he could have thrown his piano he would have but the instrument was bolted to the floor and his mind was just clear enough to not destroy the one object that was most precious to him. His blades whipped wildly around him and while blinded by his own emotions, he didn’t hear the door open. 

“Nai, are you—WHOA!” Vash ducked as his brother’s weapons snapped at him. He stumbled. Nai’s blades rattled, a snake-like hiss following.

“What is wrong with me!” Nai screamed. Eyes frantic. Vash had seen his brother on the brink of insanity before but this was something different. Something that occupied the opposite end of hate and disdain. 

“What’s wrong?”

“She did not want me there.” Nai looked away, ashamed. He stood to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw ticking. 

“What? Who?”

“I have been visiting someone,” Nai confessed. Vash tucked his hands into his pockets, making sure to angle himself in a way that made him look small compared to his brother. Nai was more likely to speak when he didn’t feel threatened. “She is a seamstress in Julai.” Vash held in a giggle, wanting nothing more than to tease his brother but he knew it wasn’t appropriate. 

“How did you meet her?” Vash asked. 

“The Doctor refused to fix my things.” Nai said, making sure to add, “I refuse to let you touch it.” Vash pouted. “I found her shop and requested her service.” Nai had never directly mentioned his interactions with you but there were few women they knew and the damage to his brother’s clothes warranted repair. Vash simply put two and two together. Hence why he knew about her far before his brother actually confessed.

“Why doesn’t she want you there anymore?” 

“I don’t know.” Nai admitted. “I gave her flowers as you suggested.” Vash rose a brow, what? He didn’t suggest that! “She was upset that she had no family, and when I saw how…pathetic she looked I couldn’t stand it.” Nai grumbled, “I visited her today, and she was bruised, her shop was different from when I first saw it. Nothing was in order, her record player wasn’t playing, and it was unnervingly quiet.”

Vash held in a sigh. Julai was a great place but it was like every other town and city, susceptible to thieves, bandits, and outlaws. Humans liked to destroy just as much as they liked to create. 

“What did she say happened?” 

“Thugs,” Nai said. Vash followed with, “You don’t believe her, do you?” 

“No.”

“And you left her there?” Vash said. 

“Yes!” Nai suddenly snapped. Vash held up his hands in defense, “I gifted her a book, for the flowers. To look at them, humans don’t know what they are. Which ones they are. We do, because we are far smarter than them, but after I gave her the gift she said nothing. Ignored me.” He had never seen her reactions to the flowers, but her keeping them was a sign that she liked them. Right? That’s what the books had told him.

“What does it feel like when you are around her?” Vash suddenly asked.

“What?” Nai balked.

“When I’m with Meryl and Wolfwood,” Vash started, using himself as an example. 

“Your bedmates.” Nai confirmed.

“My partners.” Vash corrected. “—I feel happy when I am with them,” he said. Nai’s face scrunched. “I get this warm feeling in my chest when I am around them, I feel comfortable. They are—”

“What does this have to do with my seamstress? I gave her a gift, but she ignored it. I asked her about her shop, and she ignored it—”

“Nai.” Vash said. 

“What, brother,” Nai hissed. Irritated. Nai had been searching for answers to everything for weeks. Why did he feel the way he did? Why did humans show emotions in the way they did? And his brother has proven to be useless in his research, those ancient texts gave him more satisfying answers. He had secretly compiled a list of things he needed to do to continue developing a relationship with you. Many things his brother would probably disapprove of.

More gifts to represent his intentions, whatever that meant. 

An example of intelligence, he was sure you’d find his lab impressive.

An offer of kind words, something he was completely unfamiliar with and didn’t fully understand the need for. 

And finally, a display of strength as needed to show he could protect you.

Vash sighed, breaking Knives’ thought. “Tell me what you feel when you are around her. We are plants, Independents, but we still have feelings, and you can’t deny that that is the one thing we do have in common with humans.”

Nai was silent, and Vash clasped his hands behind his back. Rocking on his heels as he waited for his older brother to reply. They could do this for hours and Nai knew that his brother wasn’t going to let up until he said what needed to be said. 

“I—,” Nai started, waiting for some crazy reaction from his brother but Vash’s face was serious. “I enjoy being in her company. She is not like the other humans.” You weren’t, as much as he struggled to come to terms with it. 

“But what do you feel ?” Vash emphasized. 

“Calm,” Nai said without thinking. It was the truth and he was surprised that he had admitted it. Your presence was calming and grounding. Your shop reminded him of his music room. Cut off from the rest of the world,  white noise from the building work, and the soft tunes from the record player were easy to get lost in, even though he greatly disliked the upbeat songs that you played. 

He liked watching you work. Your hands were small and agile. Quick and skilled when pulling the thread through the fabric. He learned, while watching you, that despite your very human shortcomings you had managed to learn and perfect a skill. One was better than none, he could confess. 

And when he saw you in the market he had observed you for longer than one should have, secretly enjoying the way you smiled at the vendors and spoke to other citizens. You made it look easy. You made humanity look quaint. 

Likable.

He hadn’t felt this at ease around a human since Rem. 

“You like her,” Vash said suddenly. 

Nai choked, a rare look of shock crossing his face. 

“You care for her like I care for Meryl and Wolfwood,” Vash said. 

“I do not,” Nai said, his voice cracking. Him? Caring for a human? He was not his brother.

“Yes, you do,” Vash said firmly. “And that’s okay Nai you can like-”

“You do not know what you’re talking about, brother.” Nai said, “I should have never asked you. I knew your advice would not have helped me.” Nai gathered himself, letting his weapons sink back into his body, muttering something about ‘fantastical stories’. 

“I will be in my room.” He said, stomping past Vash and escaping through the doors. They slammed shut behind him and Vash sighed, running a hand through his hair a chuckle leaving his chest. 

“My god Nai, what am I going to do with you?” He whispered to himself. 

Vash gave it a few days before his brother disappeared again, despite his stubbornness he wouldn’t be able to stay away from you for long. 

Nai didn’t go to his room when he left.

He marched down the hall, turning left then right all while growling curses at his brother, and made a beeline for the library. 

Nai, in his veiled attempt at controlling his emotions, burst into the library. He darted around the room frantically yanking book after book from the shelves. Anything associated with human development, emotions, and relationship was pulled and he haphazardly dumped them on the table when he could no longer carry them. When he was satisfied with the pile, he pushed the seat aside, too antsy to sit, and rummaged through the books. Ancient, old, and new, books from years he lived and years he didn’t.  He did this for what felt like hours, reading everything he could in an attempt to recognize what was happening. But nothing came to him. He learned of familial units, relationships between parents and their children, partners, and spouses. He learned of courtships and rituals, gifts of affection, and anything he believed would help him. 

Nothing was. 

Millions Knives growled, cursed his brother for his poor advice, cursed the authors for their knowledge, and humans for their insane traditions, and shoved the books from the table.

He cursed you for making him think this way. Feel this way. He wasn’t meant to care for anyone other than his brother and his people. He wasn’t supposed to care for you. 

The books fell to the floor, piling on one another like mountains, melting to the floor with the knowledge that an independent could not understand and yelled, “What are you doing to me, human!”

John has been watching your shop. 

Remember what I said, seamstress. I am your only customer. It was the third note this week. You had been working here and there with other customers, basic hems and stitches that didn't take more than 30 minutes to do, but each time they paid and left there was a shadow that would pass your door. At first, you thought it was the trick of the light, the sun settling, a passing stranger but it was the same size each time and it happened every time a customer either entered or exited your shop. 

Your customers had also reduced, significantly. You had been seeing less and less traffic. John’s threat had come to fruition. He had truly ruined your business. With your month's rent coming up you realized you were short on payment and if your customers continued to avoid you there would be no way you could afford it.

The bell to your shop rang. The sound is both hopeful and terrifying but much to your surprise Nai walked through the doors, his cloak wrapped protectively around his shoulders. Like always, it made him larger than he seemed.

“Hello, Nai.” You said. 

The blond nodded.

“How are you?” You asked. 

“Your face is healing,” You immediately reached up to brush the skin beneath your eyes. It had been healing well, the swelling had gone but the bruise remained, now only a mild yellow. 

“Did you find who did it?” He asked. 

You gulped, “N-no.” you can tell by the way he looked at you that he knew you were lying. The blond leaned against your worktable, his hip pressed against the edge in an unusual form of casualness. “Would you like for me to find them?” Nai said, his tone serious. 

You paused before chuckling, “No, you don’t need to waste your time on people like that.” You probably can’t even take them you wanted to add. Not all of those men. Nai was a big guy, but John’s men were larger and there were far more of them. He muttered something at your response, his face contorting in confusion but you didn’t say anything.

“Oh!” you said, reaching down and pulling the book he had given you the other day. “Here, your book.” 

“You already read it?” He asked. You shook your head, “I tried but I can’t really make sense of it all.” You pushed the book across the counter but Nai did not move. “It is yours. I am not taking it.”

“It’s a gift?” 

He grunted. Oh, well. You smiled shyly, face warming. “Thank you?” You said with uncertainty. No one had given you a gift since you were a kid.

“Do you know which one these are?” You nodded towards the flowers. You really had no idea what you were looking for. Your quick examination of the book left your head spinning, there were so many colors, and so many names and it looked like it was organized alphabetically, so unless you knew the name of each flower it would take forever for you to find it. You just didn’t have the mental capacity to do so right now. 

“Yes.”

“Can you…show me?” You could afford a distraction, hoped for one even.

Nai picked up the book and you grabbed the flowers, sliding them between you. As he flipped through the pages you gestured for him to move. “Come stand on this side.” He contemplated the offer but ultimately moved to your side. He towered over you, and the way he tucked himself in close only exaggerated it. He placed the open book between you, the vase just beside it, and he silently flicked through the pages. He didn’t even look at the vase as he worked, as if already knew what was in the bouquet. 

“Baby’s Breathe,” You read aloud as he opened to the first page. The soft small white flowers in the vase were Baby’s Breathe. What a silly name. You smiled, looking up at Nai. His eyes darted to yours before falling back to the page. “Why are they called that?” You asked. Nai tapped the book, and your eyes followed his finger to a small paragraph on the plants. “‘Flowers that represent everlasting love and innocence Baby’s Breathe were most commonly used for Baby Showers but have since been popularized for weddings and other special occasions. The flowers have a light smell and are great fillers for any garden or bouquet.’” Nai's finger followed each word as you read it aloud.

“Flowers for a baby shower? People back then must have had a lot of money.” You couldn’t imagine giving such an expensive gift for a baby, mothers needed more practical presents. 

Nai flipped to another page, and you were greeted with a plethora of colors. They were the red and orange flowers that took up the majority of the vase. “Wow,” you said breathlessly, “there are so many types.” You counted them. There were well over four different varieties of the plant.

“Ger-Ger,” You struggled to read the name aloud, the pronunciation foreign in your mouth. 

“Geraniums,” Nai said, his deep voice reverberating against you. He was so close now that you could feel his chest rumble as he spoke. “They are Geraniums.” 

You stepped to the side, finding the man’s closeness to be a bit overwhelming. You could feel your cheeks heating up. “Geraniums,” you repeated confidently. “‘Geraniums are often associated with happiness,’” you paused, your mind falling back to both the market day and the day you received the vase. You had spent the entire day with Nai, and while you were beyond happy during your time together, there had been a split moment you expressed your more negative emotions to the man. Nai wasn’t one to speak much, you had learned, but he was observational and picked up on things quicker than anyone else you knew. You shared your sadness and had spoken to the vendor about the flowers. Realization struck. You gasped, looked up at him, “Nai, did you send these-”

Your shop bell rang. You jumped, your eyes falling on a hooded figure. You recognized the clothes immediately, it was one of John’s men. You struggled to keep a calm face, your voice betraying you, “Can I help you, sir?” You weren’t supposed to have other people in your shop, and you weren’t supposed to be assisting other customers. While Nai wasn’t a customer at this point, he was still in your shop, and to any passerby it looked like you were going over plans with another client. 

The henchman paused, looking at you and then at Nai. He gave both of you a rotten grin, “I am so sorry, it looks like I stepped into the wrong place. If you will excuse me.” He tucked into himself and stepped out the door. You watched, with slightly trembling hands as he disappeared into the alley adjacent to your shop. You knew he wasn’t gone, he was waiting there, in the shadows until he was instructed to strike. 

“I think I am going to lock up for the day,” you said abruptly. You forced yourself to look away from the door and look up at Nai. The blond quirked a brow looking between you and the door, “Was he one of the ones that destroyed your shop?” Nai asked bluntly. Yes. 

“No! No!,” You said quickly. “It’s just been a long day.”

“It is only noon,” Nai countered. 

“It has been a long morning! I want to close up shop and then head out?” You faked a yawn.

Nai, visibly, looked unconvinced. His posture stiffened. He straightened himself but a grunt told you that he would comply with your request. “Keep the book,” he said again, gently, “It is yours.” You smiled, pressing the text to your chest. You would cherish it.  It would go into a safe when you didn’t carry it on your person, too commercially valuable to be left out and too sentimentally important to forget where you had left it.

As he turned to leave you waved goodbye, hoping that you hid the shake in your voice. He gave no indication that he was going to visit you again, but you had a feeling he would. As he stepped out you noticed a crude stitch in the fabric of his cloak. It wasn’t your work, too many blemishes decorated the stitches. They were too tight in some places, too loose in others but they held the fabric together. So, he needed your services when you came in. Why didn’t he ask?

You waved until he was out of sight, and your eyes immediately fell on the figure that was hidden in the shadows of the alley. He remained unmoving.

Act normal, you thought, Act normal. You tucked into your workspace, hunting down an unfinished project to keep your mind occupied. You let the evening bleed into the night and were happy to leave when the shop was officially closed. 

As you locked your shop's door, you heard a gentle flapping sound. A piece was tucked into the widow ledge. You picked it up,  What did I tell you ? The note read. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing back tears as your chin trembled, held your bag tightly and ran the entire way home.

All you wanted was for this to go away.

Chapter Text

Your apartment had been ransacked while you were away. 

You stared at your door in shock. It was hanging by its hinges, but there was a triangle of space between the door and its frame conveniently available for the carnage to be observed like it was an exhibit on display.

You had spent the weekend out, hopping from shop to shop, looking but not really buying. It was supposed to make you feel better because, after the week you had had, you had no desire to stay locked away. You needed the fresh air, even if leaving your apartment increased the risk of running into John or one of his men. 

But it didn't matter, since they decided to come to you instead.

Your elderly neighbor stood beside you, twisting her fingers nervously as she spoke.

“I am so sorry dear, I called the police as soon as I heard the commotion but they didn’t come.” Of course, they didn’t. You knew who did this and he had the cops in his back pocket, there was no way they’d stop them. 

You smiled at her gently, “Thank you for helping.” 

The woman shook her head, “You can stay with me if you need to until the door gets fixed. Helen is really quick with maintenance, you know that.” The building manager was a stern but kind woman, but given the preview of the damage it would take a bit more than a few screws to fix this mess. 

“No, please I don’t want to intrude. I’ll just stay at the shop.” You could find a roll-up mattress and sleep in the storage closet if needed. You didn't want to intrude. Your neighbor smiled and gave your arm a weak squeeze, “Well if you change your mind, you know where I am.” You thanked her once more and watched her leave before sighing deeply. You steeled yourself and tugged at the handle. When the door didn't budge you cursed. You had to push your entire body weight into moving it, the scraping and scratching of things against your hardwood floors made you wince. When you were inside you released an exhausted exhale. 

It was a disaster.

Your couch was demolished, and the coffee table you always worked on was splintered down the middle. Your kitchen cabinets were flung open, dishes shattered in piles on the floor. You stepped around broken ceramics and over-turned chairs as you crept through the back hall toward your bedroom. The bathroom was relatively spared, your emptied medicine cabinet and broken mirror the only damage. Your room, however, was just horrendous. The mattress was on its sides, the sheets scattered about. Drawers to your dresser are left on the floor, and your clothes are strewn across the carpet. Your lamps were broken, shades ripped and bulbs burst, your trinkets thrown about, your hand-sewn curtains were ribbons on the floor, your books confetti.

You were so shocked that there was no space for tears. For being angry. For sadness. Why did he have any desire to do this? To ruin your own home because you spoke up against his abuse? You kicked a stray shoe, watching it roll onto its side, numb. You knew that everything would come flooding back later when the distraction of your apartment’s doom fizzled away when things were fixed. 

You realized as you analyzed the space that it didn’t look like anything had been stolen. You, honestly, had little to no items worth stealing, but you were surprised that John and his men hadn’t taken more. 

But that didn't matter right now, you had more pressing things to do. You sighed, rolling up your sleeves, the fatigue setting in before you even started cleaning. 

You arrived to work the next day with aching bones. You had to do more physical labor in the past few weeks than you had your entire life and the stress of the situation only made your body cry more. You didn’t know if you would be able to handle this anymore. Maybe working for John would be the better option. Your customers had stopped coming. Nai’s occasional visits remained no matter how much you falsely protested his company.

The two of you were once again hovered over the floral book, Nai had grown more comfortable no longer needing your invitation to stand closer. You liked the proximity, as much as it made your heart race. You thumbed at a page as Nai helped you sound out another name. 

“Chrys-Crysanth-Christhem-” The name made your tongue swell the sounds thick. 

“Chrysanthemum,” Nai said, a light lift in his voice. You looked up at him your brow quirked. 

“Are you laughing at me?” You questioned, your voice just as light. 

There was a sparkle behind Nai’s eyes and the smirk on his face indicated that he did, in fact, find your poor pronunciation of foreign words hilarious, “No.” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and went back to the text, trying to sound it out again. When it failed to leave your mouth successfully you dramatically groaned, shoving it aside as if it had offended you. “You were defeated by a few words?” Nai’s tone almost sounded playful. 

You grumbled, “I can’t say it.” You lazily pointed at the flowers in your vase. They were still thriving even days after they arrived. They seemed to bloom more vibrantly when Nai was around, but that would be ridiculous. Maybe it was the air, the filtering system was refreshing and the large bay windows of your shop welcomed plenty of sunlight. You watered them regularly too. Who knew you’d be so good at caring for flowers? 

“Those are much easier to say,” You countered, “Baby’s breathe, Geraniums, Baby’s breathe and Geraniums, see?” You ignored the fact that you couldn’t initially pronounce geraniums. 

Nai’s arm lifted and your breath hitched as he moved unexpectedly. His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to stand straight and look at him directly. His gaze was intense and strong and he spoke slowly, “Kruh,” he said, pausing. 

You caught on immediately, repeating the sound, “Kruh.”

“San.” His thumb pressed into your cheek as if guiding your jaw into the right shape. 

“San.” You whispered. Your voice is soft, his hands are warm. The skin was softer than you expected it to be but still calloused. Satisfied with your pronunciation he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Thuh.”

“Thuh…” Your voice trailed, the sound nearly nonexistent. You had subconsciously stepped closer, your chest only a few inches from his. Your head tilted back further to accommodate his height. You lifted your hands and grasped his wrist, the sensation of his fingers nearly overwhelming. 

Nai only squeezed, repeating the sound again. Louder and with more force. You squeaked as the noise left you.

“Muhm,” he continued, his voice dropping. You repeated. 

“Chrysanthemum,” he said, letting the word roll from his tongue with confidence. 

You followed, only stuttering on the first syllable this time. Nai’s eyes softened, “good.” He said, his chest rumbling with the praise. You smiled, squeezing his wrist in thanks. The movement seemed to startle him. His eyes widened uncharacteristically and darted between your hands and your face.

And as if he had been burned he released you, jerking away so aggressively that it made you jump. He wiped his hand on his pants, and your own hand twitched, an uncomfortable sharpness pricking your heart. 

“Good, good,” was all he mumbled as he gathered himself. He looked flustered. He tucked his hands into his pockets and nodded, “I will be back tomorrow.” He said, moving to leave. You weren’t sure what to say so you weakly waved and muttered a defeated goodbye. He paused at the exit, looking over his shoulder at you briefly before dipping past the threshold. He was gone in a blink. 

You examined one of your hands and raised the other to your face, cupping your warm cheek. You could still feel the heat of his touch and the pressure from his abrupt lesson in speaking. Your eyes fell to the page still open in front of you, a chrysanthemum decorated it. Beautifully illustrated, there was a single stem blooming with a thousand red petals, bunched together so delicately and detailed so perfectly that it looked like it could be plucked right from the page. Its meaning is handwritten beside it. 

Chrysanthemums come in a variety of colors, each meaning something different but the most beloved color is red. This shade is often presented as a symbol of someone's Love and passion for another.

Love and Passion.

Your face warmed and you rushed to close the book. You shoved it away, taking a shuddering breath.

Love and passion. 

“Oh god,” you whispered. You shook your head rattling the unwanted thoughts away. He was a client and a friend there was no need for him to be any more than that. 

Wanting nothing more than to ignore the thoughts that lapped your brain, you scrambled for a project. Hypnotizing yourself with your work until closing. 

Unfortunately, you never noticed the eyes watching you. You had broken the rules, and there were consequences for that.

As promised, Nai appeared again. You were taught a lesson in flowers and found yourself laughing as he worked through another set of flora with you.

“So, how do you even know all of this?” You asked. He was the most knowledgeable person you knew when it came to the science of plant life. Honestly, it was all you really talked about and despite your clear lack of understanding he still patiently explained everything. With each passing flower, he would tell you facts about them, where they bloomed on earth, which colors were the nicest, and sometimes he’d even tell you what they smelt like. Something that was hard to grasp when you only had a few in your possession. 

Nai paused, contemplating, “My…mother.” You perked up. He had only ever mentioned family once before and while it wasn’t at the forefront of your mind you were still curious. As much as you wanted to say you knew the man, realistically you didn’t know much at all. He lives in Julai, you’d assume, he hates meat skewers, frequently rips his clothes, doesn’t like jazzy music, and seemed to have a very intense and expensive horticulture hobby. He was handsome, yes, but when it came to his past you were left in the dark. 

“What is your mother like?” You asked, braving the question.

Nai paused again, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You felt a sudden urge to retract your statement, the way he observed you were almost scrutinizing. Like you had to be worthy to hear such a story. 

You hoped you were. 

“My mother is…kind. If lost at times.” 

“Is she from Julai?” Maybe you knew her, the city may be large but gossip crept along alleyways and slithered through windows so it wasn’t uncommon to hear stories that came from the opposite side of the city. 

“No,” He said, “she was from elsewhere. She,” he looked at you again before his eyes fell on the text, “she died protecting us.” There it was again, his words hinting at more than one person. 

“Well,” you said, forgoing an unnecessary apology, he wasn't the type to find comfort in those, "she raised you, so I’d say she was a wonderful person.” Nai’s posture grew rigid, but you continued, your words genuine, “You’re pretty patient and smart and…well, kind? I assume like her.” You nudged him, and Nai awkwardly rocked to the side, “So all-in-all I think she left a pretty good legacy behind.” 

Nai’s eyes glazed over, and he stared at the book in front of him. You tilted your head, concerned. You lifted your hand, instinctually, to brush against his arm, but Nai pulled away. “Sorry, Sorry, touchy subject?” you questioned. “I didn’t mean to make you upset—”

“Are we friends?” Nai suddenly asked. 

“I? Yes?” You assumed you were, the man had been wandering in and out of your shop for weeks. How else would you define your relationship? "We're friends, is that okay?" You had no idea where he was going to go with this. Had you said something that would make him think otherwise?

"...yes," he muttered, making a point to avoid eye contact. He suddenly pulled up the hood of his jacket, burrowing himself into it. He turned his back from you and you tried not to chuckle at the oddly adorable display. He was shy, it seemed. 

Nai cleared his throat and stepped from behind your worktable, "I must go." He said. His voice cracked and he flinched, you covered your mouth with the back of your hand to suppress a laugh. You followed him to the door, making no comment until you stepped outside. He was silent as he walked away.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” you called, cupping your hands around your mouth.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, his face remained hidden beneath his hood, but you could see it shift as he nodded his head. You smiled and waved, “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

Just as you went to wave a shadow slinked into your peripheral. You tensed. The figure was gone when you turned in its direction but you could still sense it watching you. You forced yourself to look back at Nai, whispering, "It's just someone on the street. It's just someone on the street." When you went to wave your final goodbye you realized Nai was gone. You sighed, making a mental note to ask how he moved so quickly before dipping back into your shop. 

You looked over your shoulder once last time and secured the lock. 

It did nothing to ease your anxiety. 

It was late afternoon and Nai had not arrived yet. You still had a few hours before you locked up but being cooped up in the shop for the past few days had left you restless. Your apartment had been fixed, free of charge by your landlord, this morning but you didn’t want to be there as much as you didn’t want to be here. You felt suffocated in both locations. 

So, you now sat just outside your shop. The heat of the day no longer sizzled your skin as the sun began to set. The buildings blocked its rays. You read the book Nai had given you, practicing the names of each flower you reviewed. You felt your face warm when your gaze fell upon the chrysanthemum. You remembered Nai’s touch, his warm breath against your face, and how strong his arm felt beneath your own hands. 

Love and Passion…Passion.

You flushed, quickly turning the page. There was no time for thoughts like that.

You continued your review, whispering words to yourself as you fingered the pages, tracing each image. As you focused on a particularly hard word, a scientific name, Nai had explained, the shadow of the setting sun grew darker and distorted your vision. 

You were expecting Nai, but your hello dissolved from your tongue and your smile vanished when you recognized the man hovering over you. 

John’s henchman. 

You stood, the chair clattering to the floor in your rapidity. The henchman plucked the book from your hands and in a rare show of speed you snatched it back. The man looked genuinely surprised but his smile was filled with amusement. “Oh? She's feisty. Hey boss!” 

Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands gripping the book so tightly that your fingers numbed. “Girl’s still got it!” He called just as John revealed himself. 

The man was dressed as he usually was, drenched in perfection that did nothing to drown his damnable intentions. The henchman pointed at you, “Not only is the girl accepting visitors but she’s been receiving gifts.” He nodded towards your book, "And she's still got that attitude." You stepped back, but the windows stopped you from escaping. You could see more of John’s men surrounding the shop, some carried large canisters over their shoulders and others held guns. 

Their presence was overwhelming. 

John smirked, “Hello again, sweetheart.” You snarled, turning your head as he reached for you. Disappointed in your rejection John sucked his teeth. “I’ve given you plenty of warning,” he tucked his hand into his pockets, “I told you that no one but I were to request your services.”

“I haven't had a client in days.” You said. 

“Because I told them to stay away.” John smiled, “and unlike you, most of them listened.”

“I-” 

“You what?” John mocked, “You may have not had any 'clients' but you’ve had people visit, and who’s to say that blond that keeps wandering in and out of your shop every other day isn’t helping you conspire against me? Hm?” John laughed as your eyes widened. No, not Nai. He couldn’t be dragged into this. 

John nodded, and his henchman moved. His large hand crushed your wrist as he yanked. You fell into him, and he used the opportunity to pick you up, your shoulder screamed as it jostled in its socket. You were weightless to him. Nothing. You squirmed, dropping your book in the process, and cried out. “Let me go!” 

He threw you, and you twisted in agony as your chest collided with the ground a few feet from your shop. You whimpered, coughing as the air reentered your lungs. You blinked away tears and looked up. John stood over you, his smile wide and unwelcoming. 

He crouched, stepping on your hand as you held your book between his fingers. Taunting you with it. He flipped through the pages, whistling low. “Your lover boy must be quite wealthy,” he said, “a book like this costs a fortune in the underground. Is that why you’ve been speaking with him?” John leaned close his lips at your ear, you wept as he dug his heel further into the back of your hand. “Do you think he’ll save you when I have Millions Knives on my side?” Your lips tremored as more tears fell. 

He snapped his fingers and stood. The pain in your hand was replaced by heavy pressure on your back. John’s henchman pressed his foot just below your shoulders, pining you to the ground. You struggled to breathe. 

“Don’t kill her now,” John said, “I want her to see this.” He summoned his other men forward and pointed towards your shop. “You know what to do,” John said. You were shocked into silence as you watch his men lift the barrels of their guns and smashed in the windows. Clearly enjoying the chaos they were creating. John's tone was matter-oh-fact as he regarded your tear-stained cheeks, “I told you there would be consequences, so here they are.” He laughed as his men cheered. “Since you won’t serve me, you won’t serve anyone. Does that sound fair?”

You choked out a desperate cry, as you watched the others toss canisters of gasoline through shattered windows. The bottles burst as they hit the floor, drenching the fabrics and filling the air with the putrid scent of rotting eggs. You kicked and tried to throw the henchman off, but his steel-toed shoes only dug further into your flesh.

“Why don’t you do the honors, boss?” Another man spoke, holding a rusted cigarette lighter out to the man.

John smirked, “of course.” He accepted the lighter from his henchman’s hand, flicking it open. 

No, no, no. You panicked, knowing exactly where this was headed. He couldn't. He couldn't.

You screamed, flailing as you tried to crawl your way to him but the man who had you pinned held firm. You didn’t care that you couldn’t breathe, you didn't care that you were in pain. All you knew was that you needed to get to the shop, to stop him, to save yourself. Your livelihood.

But nothing worked and you watched as John sparked the trigger and tossed the lighter into the shop. Flames immediately followed. They were pillars of heat rising like the sun over the horizon. 

When the pressure on your back lifted you darted, scrambling to find anything that could help you. You ran on autopilot. You dragged the extra chairs and signs that sat out front of the shop and threw them behind you. They were junk and so easy to replace but you didn’t want to lose anything. Even the little things. 

There was a crash as the fabric racks succumbed to the flames, the plume of black smoke and fire only growing. You choked and stepped back, hands held out in front of you in a poor attempt to shield your face. Pathetically, you begged the men that caused the destruction to stop it. 

“Please, I am sorry, I will-” You turned, your vision a sea of tears.

John and his men were gone, their sinister laughter disappearing down the alley. 

You were alone. 

Your throat burned, your hands stung, and your skin itched. The heat was unbearable. The flames grew larger and larger and you worried it would catch the other shops. The walls of your own wouldn’t be able to hold it. 

Everything had happened so quickly that you were disoriented. You were unsure of what to do next, and who to call. Surely someone saw what happened, right? They would have called for help, right? What could you do now, you needed to get-you need to go-you needed to-

You were suddenly yanked away from the wreckage. Cool air greeted you as you were wrapped in someone’s arms and pulled to a safe distance. Immediately suspecting it as another of John’s men, you kicked. Crawling at their forearms, “Let me go, you bastard! Haven't you done enough!” Your words were garbled. 

Their grip only tightened and your chest heaved. What were they going to do now? You had nothing left to offer, no shop, no house. Everything was gone, your livelihood, and your possessions, what little there was, had been stolen from you. 

One arm loosened but the other remained in place, and a pale hand covered your eyes. The burning brightness of the flames no longer blurred your vision. They forced your head back against their shoulder. “Breathe,” they said, their lips so close to your ear that you could feel them brush against it. 

You immediately recognized the voice. 

“Nai!” A relieved sob ripped through you, your body collapsing against him. He supported you with ease. “Nai…” Your voice trailed unsure if you had actually heard him. Your hands moved to the arm around your waist. You gripped it weakly, the chilled, soothing fabric of his cloak greeted you. 

“Rest,” was all he said. And you didn’t care if it was a hallucination, you didn’t care if it was actually one of John’s men. All you knew, at this exact moment, was that you felt safe. You’d deal with the consequences when you woke up. 

You stirred. Rolling as you buried yourself further into the soft sheets surrounding you. Your throat was dry, and your body ached but you were alive. 

And not at home. 

You rubbed your eyes as your vision cleared. The room could only be described as cavernous. The ceilings were higher than you had ever seen. The windows were just as large. The decor was simple and in varying shades of white and grey. Plain, compared to your apartment, but no less mesmerizing. 

You pressed yourself against the metallic headboard of the bed, the blankets pooling at your waist. You were shrouded in a plain white gown, soft to the touch and light against your body. Your hand was bruised, the battered skin dark.

“Nai,” Your attention fell on a voice just outside the door of the room. It was muffled but not undecipherable behind the large white door, “we have more rooms, she can stay in one of those.” The voice was lighter than Nai’s but still masculine. 

“No,” that was Nai, “she will remain in my room.” 

There was a sigh, “Well, Doctor Conrad still needs to take a look at her. Her injuries were minor but the stress of everything could have rattled her more than we thought.”

“Then go get him.” 

“Nai…”

“I will not leave her alone.” The conversation ended. The other individual sighed, and there was a scuffling of feet and a quiet, “I’ll let him know.” He must have left.

You scrambled to display a sense of casualness as the large door slid open. Nai stomped in, the hood of his cloak pulled down. His face is on full display. He marched right past you, to a set of chairs that lined the window, and carefully unraveled the fabric from his shoulders. He draped it across the seats, grumbling as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t wearing his matching set of loose-fitting clothes. What he wore beneath his cloak was the exact opposite of loose fitting. It molded to his figure perfectly, stuck to the grooves and ridges of his figure effortlessly, and left no room for imagination. 

“What are you wearing?” You rasped, hand moving to your throat. It was sore and scratchy, the screaming had taken its toll. 

Nai whipped around. You couldn’t help but watch the muscles in his shoulders tense. He didn't expect you to be awake. He immediately reached for his cloak, shrouding his body in a sea of fabric. You held in a noise of disappointment. You really didn’t mind the eye candy. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked. That stare of his was back, unwavering and fully attentive. Intimidating in many ways and comforting in others. He spoke with intention and that intention was understanding your well-being. 

“Tired,” You said. You looked at your hands, reexamining the marks that littered your skin. You truly were exhausted, the adrenaline had since worn off, leaving behind a stinging pain and a desire to do nothing more than curl up in bed and sleep. “How long was I out?” You asked. From the window, it looked to be late afternoon, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass was calm. Heatless in comparison to the noon temperatures. You realized at that moment that the light illuminated Nai in a rather ethereal way. He stood at the foot of the bed, almost hovering, as a halo of light shone across his head and shoulders. 

Nai opened his mouth to speak but turned his head towards the door. You followed his gaze, confused. Seconds later there was a knock. You jumped, gripping your sheets, looking between the door and the man in front of you. Nai, sensing your nervousness held up his hand, silently telling you that it was alright. He marched towards the door and pressed a square button next to it, it turned from red to green and the door silently slid open. You had never seen tech like that before. 

You leaned forward to see who it was but the thick archway blocked most of your vision. There was a flash of red, and you blinked as an older man, doused in white, stepped into the space. You remained silent as he moved. He didn’t look threatening but after what happened the last thing you wanted to deal with was another random asshole. He set a leather bag on the bedside table, opening it quietly. Nai remained by the closed door.

“What is your name?” His voice was cold, matter-oh-fact. 

Nai repeated your name for you. You rose a brow, he ignored it. The doctor was unphased by Nai’s sudden sharpness. He lifted a small metal tin and a roll of gauze from his bag, and a pair of scissors followed shortly after. He set them beside your legs before sitting on the edge of the bed. Nai shifted uncomfortably, his arms crossed over his chest. His brown furrowed in displeasure. As soon as the doctor reached for his supplies there was a deep rumble that filled the quiet room. The sound was low, and barely there but you couldn't miss it when there was literally no other noise but your uneven breath and the quiet rustling of cotton sheets. The doctor sighed, and as soon as he stood the sound stopped. Nai’s posture relaxed. Was he…growling? You blinked, unsure. Must have been a trick of the ears, you thought. They were ringing.

The doctor spoke again. “May I see your hand?” You nodded and cautiously placed your hand in his. The elderly man’s hands were warm, and he carefully flipped yours back and forth as he examined the damage. He poked at the darkened skin, rubbing a thumb over the damage done by John’s men. When you winced you heard Nai shuffle and he was suddenly standing just beside the doctor. His eyes focused on your joined hands. The doctor again, was unphased.

“No broken bones,” he said, “just bruising. It will take a while to heal.” He reached for his tin and spun the top with one hand before setting it back on the bed. Inside was a paste, white and opaque, and smelt medicinal. He dipped two fingers into the concoction, “This will help it heal faster.” When he smeared it across the back of your hand you flinched. The response was an unwanted reflex to the sudden chill of the cream. 

There was an immediate crash and Doctor Conrad fell into the wall behind him. His instruments scattered at his feet. You jumped, shocked. Did he fall? “Are you okay?” 

The Doctor groaned as he shook his head, “Yes, I am alright.” 

“Out.” Nai suddenly said. You looked at him surprised. Huh?

“Nai?” The doctor’s eyes widened when you said Nai’s name, questioning him. His brows jumped in surprise. 

“Out,” he repeated, but it wasn’t at you. The doctor obliged without a word. He dusted his coat and reached for his bag. 

“Leave it.” the blonde said. Nai has always been quiet and a bit off-putting but you had never expected him to be this crass. 

The Doctor, once again, complied. He held up his hands in surrender and made his way to the door. Red to green and he stepped out. Nai stood opposite of him, a line of defense in case the doctor wished to revoke his exit. 

“Do you even know how to care for a-” The door slid shut as Nai slammed his palm against the lock. The doctor's grumbling could be heard just beyond it.

“He is your…you will deal with him.” He said.

When Nai turned to you, you had never felt more awkward in your life. Not only had you just witnessed the man’s sudden change in personality but you were sitting in a strange building, in a strange bed, with ointment on your hand, gauze at your feet, and no doctor to help you.

You grunted as you reached for the medical supplies, you knew enough first aid that tending to the basics of your wounds should be alright for now. Your skin was spotty the only discernable difference between the burns and the bruises was the uncomfortable heat your flesh emitted. You grumbled when you couldn’t reach the gauze, the bandages just barely beyond your reach. You were too stiff to bend so moving your body entirely was not going to happen. 

Nai’s hand brushed yours as he reached for the roll. He grabbed your wrist and tugged it towards him. You whimpered as he aimlessly wrapped the gauze around your hand, his movements were uncertain and the work was crude but it covered what it needed to. 

“Did you bring me here?” You asked. 

“Yes,” he said as he tucked the ends of the wrappings in, securing them. He moved to your other hand, far more gently this time, and carefully spread more of the cream against your tender palms. He paused just before his fingers touched the skin, looking for any signs of discomfort. When you didn’t flinch like you had with the doctor he continued his work. 

“Where am I?” you asked. 

“My…room.” He said slowly. 

You gaped, “This is where you live?” This room was enormous, equal to the size of your shop and then some, and it was only a bedroom. Not to mention the insanely high-tech door system and pristine paint. Not even the hospitals in Julai were this clean, this clear. But the room looked relatively unlived in, with no trinkets on the side tables, and no decor on the walls. It felt empty. 

Nai nodded as he tied off the second set of wrappings. His gaze trailed from your hands to your face and torso, his eyes searching for more damage. “Tell me who did this.” 

You went to answer but John’s haunting words stopped you. He knew Millions Knives, if you told Nai then he would be in danger as well. “Those kids again.” You winced at your own excuse. How many times were you going to use it?

“Children came into possession of gasoline and lit your shop ablaze?”

“Y-yes.” 

“Why will you not tell me? Do you think I am a fool?”

No, I want to keep you safe.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

When you didn’t reply he sighed in frustration.

“Why are your people so stubborn!” He snapped. You jumped, shocked. Nai immediately lowered his voice, “If you do not wish for me to help you, then why do you call me your friend?” You blinked.

“Do your people loathe the idea of companionship so greatly in this era?” Why was he speaking so strangely? Nai had always had a mysterious air to him, one that you found magnetic, but the way he was referring to you as if he wasn’t human himself, left you bewildered. 

“Nai, I don’t want you getting hurt to-”

“I can care for myself,” he said. 

“I know you can, but I don’t want you involved! It’s not worth it, it shouldn’t ruin your image too.” 

“My image has been tarnished far more heavily than you are aware of. Humans hold their grudges. ” 

“What, Nai? What are you talking about? Humans? Grudges?” When the words left your lips Nai stood, and gathered the remaining medical supplies, his movements quick and jerky. He dropped them haphazardly into the bag on the bedside table. 

“The doctor will check on you later.” He said. His tone was sharp. “Rest until then. Sleep, you need it.” 

Red and green and then he was gone, the door sliding shut behind him. 

You were left alone. You sighed, gripping the sheets as you stared at the door. He had a right to be angry with you. You refused to tell him what was going on. But you truly did not want him involved. His safety was more important than your friendship. The less he knew, the better. If Millions Knives was as terrifying as people made him out to be, both of you could end up dead and you knew that no one would bat an eye at that.

The lights of the room haloed your vision as a headache, induced by fatigue and confusion, crept in. You pulled the blankets beneath your chin, shimming carefully into the dip of the supportive mattress. The least you could do was try and sleep, you needed a clear head when you confronted Nai again. 

As soon as your head hit the pillow, the lights flickered off and you closed your eyes. But Nai’s strange words repeated in your mind as you drifted into another round of sleep. 

“Do you think she could be protecting you, Nai?”

“It is my job to protect her.” 

“It is a mutual thing.” 

Vash sighed wearily. He loved his brother, he truly did, but his brother’s inability to truly grasp human emotion was starting to wear him thin. Nai had the tendency to go all in on the things he was passionate about. The desire to save their brothers and sisters from abuse and mistreatment was one such passion that almost ended horribly for everyone. Nai had been passionate about getting Vash back, desperate and cunning, and went as far as placing a bounty on his own brother’s head with a chance that some crazy outlaw would track him down and return him to where Nai believed he should be. And now, with his brother returned and a deal made with the humans about the use of plants, Nai had nowhere else to direct his passions. 

Nowhere but at you. 

Vash had only caught a brief glimpse of you when you entered the tower. Wrapped in Nai’s cloak, which had left the blonde shocked because he never really let anyone touch the thing, with tufts of hair sticking out from the opening. You were making noises of distress in your sleep, crying out in pain and the skin of your hands, which poked out from the mountain of fabric, looked raw and irritated. Vash didn't know what had happened, but he had never seen his brother so panicked before.

Nai had stormed past Vash in a flurry of emotions, bare feet slapping against the floor as he marched towards his room. He refused to let Vash in.

Now his brother sat, again, in the library searching books on human alignments. It had taken him a moment and a bit of puzzling but Vash had concluded that his brother was frustrated because you had been injured more than once now and refused his help.

Vash understood the feeling well, but humans were humans and he himself had a tendency to reject assistance.

Nai huffed as he rummaged through another book, reading about treatments for burns and bruises. He had already done what the book said, a comfortable environment, cooling gels or creams and wrappings to keep the wounds from irritating. But there had to be more, you could not be in discomfort. You shouldn't be in pain.

“Nai, how did this all end up happening?” Vash asked. 

“The same men who attacked her before came back again.” Nai knew he was right about your lies but he didn’t know how to get you to admit it. He was here to help you, protect you. Why didn’t you trust him with that?

“Is she trying to hide something?”

“She is fearful,” Nai said. He could sense it in the way you spoke about what happened, how you refused to lock your gaze with his, how you twisted your thumbs when you were nervous, and how you twitched, just slightly, when you spoke. 

“Is she protecting someone?” Vash asked,  “I’ve seen it often.” Out here, anyone will do anything to get what they want. Even threaten someone as innocent as you.

Nai, medical books are forgotten, glanced at his brother. “She would not protect someone who was hurting her.” That was nonsense. 

“You don’t know that.”

“She would not do that.” Nai bit out, dipping back into his long-winded readings. She would tell me, Nai wanted to say. We are friends, he wanted to admit to his brother but the word was a struggle to verbalize. Heavy in his heart the new emotions clogged his throat and choked him. He struggled to swallow the idea of their friendship, enjoying it, not truly satisfied with the word and its meaning. But he did not know how else to describe it. 

Like. Care. Vash had told him those were the feelings he experienced when he was around her. According to his readings, you liked the people you grew close to. You cared for those you loved. 

Nai froze, his finger caught on the corner of a dog-eared page. The text was nonsensical, once clear with procedural steps the words now blurred together. Melting into a blob of black and white. 

Nai slammed the book shut. 

Love. 

His face immediately twisted, a deep scowl falling over his features. He could hear his brother’s concerned voice just over the growing buzz in his ears. Love. Love. Love. Lovelovelovelove— Nai stood, shoving the text across the table. The book fell to the floor with a quiet thump and the blond grumbled as he gathered his cloak and slipped out of the room. Leaving a flabbergasted Vash behind.

Vash called, "Do you do this to her too because this is ridiculous!" He sounded irritated but Nai didn't care, "You can't run off when stuff gets confusing Nai!" The elder twin ignored him, too caught up in the word that raced through his mind.

He wandered the halls well into the late night hours, thoughts of you the only thing occupying him. “Love, how ridiculous,” he muttered. He had somehow wandered back to his room. He didn't plan to return here until morning, not wanting to disturb you and trigger any more unwanted thoughts. But even, as he grumbled his denial, "Loving a human? Foolish," he pinned the code to his bedroom and slipped inside.

You shot up, screaming as the flames of the shop consumed you. “John! Stop! Please!” You cried. You blinked when the heat dissipated and the memory of the dream faded into reality. The chilled room soothed your fevered skin and you pushed away the strands of hair that had plastered themselves against your neck and brow.

You released a shuddering breath as you tried to gather yourself. You kept your eyes closed scared that you weren’t actually in Nai’s home but in the clutches of John and his men. Slowly, and with little confidence you pried them open. A figure stood at the end of your bed, and it took every ounce of you to not scream in terror. You realized quickly, by the size and shape of the body that it was not the man in your dreams who stood before you.

“Jesus, Nai, you scared the shit out of me!” You gasped as you pressed a hand against your chest. The blond stood at the foot of your bed again. The lights were off and the room was doused in darkness so it made it hard to focus on him, but Nai’s eyes were so unnaturally bright that you knew exactly where he was. You rubbed your eyes, chasing the tears of sleep, and when Nai commanded the lights on the glow of his gaze diminished. Leaving behind an undeniably angry scowl and a tick in his jaw that you knew indicated his irritation.

“John Yu is the man who has been harassing you?” Your heart stopped. You opened and closed your mouth in an attempt to find an excuse. 

“Tell me the truth.” Nai’s voice was commanding and left no room for argument. He crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his chin up as he observed you. You pulled a pillow to your chest and clutched it like a lifeline.

“Yes.” You hoped he didn’t ask any more questions. 

“I will deal with him.” He dropped his arms and made a beeline for the door but before he could leave you stopped him.

“Wait! No!” You didn’t want him getting hurt too. Nai said nothing as he regarded you, his hand hovering over the glowing red button. 

“He will hurt you,” you said, “h-he’s friends with other men. He’s got power.” Nai seemed unconvinced so you continued, “he started a rumor around my shop, told me that I was only supposed to serve him. And I thought he was full of it until my customers stopped coming and they destroyed my apartment.” It was painful to admit that you had been backed into a corner but offering humiliation in an attempt to save Nai from misery was well worth it. 

“And…and when he saw that you still came to my shop he got worst. Everything just piled up, and I got too confident. I should have listened but I didn’t and now I’m going to have John, his men, and Millions Knives after me if I don't figure something out. I don’t want you involved in that to—“

“What did you say?” Nai’s hand fell, and you paused. His face was stone, his lips pursed. “I don’t want you—“

“Not that.” He said sharply. “Who, exactly, is going to come after you?”

You gulped, “John, his men, and Millions Knives. He knows him, apparently. He’s told me several times that Millions Knives owes him a favor.”

The room turned to ice. Nai’s face twisted into something so fierce that you struggled to register it. Then his brows furrowed in confusion before an amused relaxation fell upon his cheeks. A chuckle left him. It was amused, it was ominous, it was eerie. It was no normal laugh. “Millions Knives owes him a favor, yes? Perfect.”

Addled, you reached for him, untucking the sheets and taking a step from the bed. Your body still hurt but you ignored it as you approached him. You reached out but Nai was faster. He slammed his hand against the lock, barely even waiting for the door to slide open before he slipped out. 

You gasped.

“Nai! Wait! He’ll kill you!” you cried. You struggled to follow, he was so much faster than you anticipated him to be, and your wounds only slowed you more. When you turned the corner, limping into the hallway, he was already gone. You didn’t know which direction he went so you simply ran. The hallway was similar to the bedroom, large, open, and barren. Pillars rushed past you, the tile was frigid against your bare feet. You looked a mess, you were sure of it, sleep-tangled hair and wearing a gown that was too big for you hobbling through a building you had no knowledge of and crying out the name of a man whose confidence was going to get him killed. 

You rounded a corner, barely catching yourself in your speed. Your heart jumped in relief when you saw a head of blond hair at the end of the hallway, doused in black and red. Nai, thank god he hadn’t left yet.

“Nai!” You called, and when the blond didn’t turn you shouted again, “Nai, don’t do this! Millions Knives will kill you!” The man turned and you gasped, skidding to a halt. The quick stop made you lose your balance and you fell on your ass.

This man was not Nai. He had the same exact face, but the darker blond hair, the swept across his forehead, the deep blue eyes, and the tan skin were clear indicators that he was not the man you had been chasing after.

The man dressed in red tilted his head, “Millions Knives is going to kill Nai?” 

He seemed genuinely confused by the statement, but you did not have time to question that or his identity. You needed to get to Nai before he made some ridiculous decision that ended with him in a body bag.

“Yes,” you said quickly, “I-I am in some trouble with some men from the underground and one of them knows Millions Knives, he’s going to send him after me and Nai thinks he can help. I don’t want him to get hu—“ The man in red burst into laughter. 

“This is not funny,” You said, who was this guy?

“Nai is fine.” He said confidently, “Trust me.” He waved his hand nonchalantly as if the impending death was of no concern. You grew angry, irritated that he found no care about the situation. 

“I don’t know who you are but—“ 

“My brother will be alright,” he said gently. You froze. “You have nothing to worry about, I’d actually be more concerned for the other guy. Throwing around that name so casually isn’t exactly the wisest move on his part.” 

The conversation you had with Nai at the marketplace came flooding back. His brother. Nai had a sibling, "twins...," you whispered. The man's grin widened at your words.

He continued, “You don’t need to worry your pretty head,” he said with a smile, “When you are Millions Knives, it’s kinda hard to be killed by him, you know?”

“When you are Millions Knives…” You muttered.

Your eyes widened as realization struck, the man you had been speaking to for weeks, the man who had been coming to you with sewing requests, and casual conversation was more than he said he was. He was the man that everyone was scared of, the name that pierced hearts with fear, the man with power beyond anything humanly imaginable. 

Nai was Millions Knives.

Chapter Text

Taken aback by Vash’s words you regarded him with a look of astonishment. 

“He’s…Millions Knives?” Anyone and everyone knew the legend that was Millions Knives, a ruthless killer with an unknown vendetta against humanity. Having grown up in the city he claimed as his playground it was hard to escape the inevitable stories that were whispered from mouth to mouth. 

Millions Knives was violent, untrusting, and unrelenting. 

Nai was none of that. 

“Who are you?” They were twins, clearly. Adored with the same features, but painted in different colors. This man’s blond was brighter, eyes a deeper shade of blue with a mole mirroring that of Nai’s. In your panic, you weren’t able to discern the differences at first but now they were clear as day. His outfit fit an aesthetic that Nai would never like. He looked so familiar, like you had met him once before, seen him in the streets but had never greeted him directly. A friend of a friend, a feeling. You wracked your brain for a connection other than the one directly linked to Nai.

“You’re Vash the Stampede,” you gasped. Now you remembered, his fading wanted signs lined the streets. Plastered beneath announcements and advertisements, are forgotten memories of a once notorious man. You had passed those images every day and people spoke of his legendary shooting frequently. No wonder he looked familiar. 

“Gosh, they still call me that?” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. The sleeve of his coat shifted and beneath it, you could see the glimmering melt arm that mechanics often drooled over. It looked unreal. “Didn’t think that name would stay after all these years.”

He sighed and smiled at you, his glasses glinting in the artificial light. “You can just call me Vash.” 

“Vash…” You said slowly. “And your Millions Knives ’ brother?” 

“Can you tell?” He joked, “We’re twins but sometimes I still think we look so different.”

“Your Nai’s brother?” You sounded like a fool, repeating yourself but you wanted clarification. Needed it. Nai couldn’t be a killer, a murderer, a hitman. There was no way. 

But there was no doubt that he was related to Vash the Stampede, they had the same face for crying out loud, and the likelihood of one outlaw having connections to another was high. So despite Nai’s kindness, his calmness, and his aloofness there was validity to his true identity. 

“Wow, he lets you call him that?” Vash’s brows rose in surprise a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think he would get that casual.” He chuckled. 

“Is he really Millions Knives?” You asked. 

Vash nodded, “He is.”

“Then what was-”

“What was Millions Knives doing talking to you?” 

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

“My brother has always had a hard time connecting with people. When we were kids we had this huge falling out and a lot of…stuff happened that made him weary of others.” You could tell that Vash had no desire to share his brother’s suffering and as much as you wanted to know more, you weren’t going to pry. “But he seems to have found something in you,” he shrugged.

“Where did he go?” You questioned. You thought you knew Nai well, but clearly, you had a lot more to learn. 

“You said that if he messed with someone, they would send Millions Knives after him,” Vash said. You nodded as he continued, “who would send him?” 

“John Yu,” you said.  Vash tapped his chin, eyes searching the ceiling as he wracked his brain for a connection. “Never heard of the guy.” 

“He burned down my shop,” you said, “destroyed everything. If it weren’t for Nai I probably would have gone down with it.” You spoke truthfully, blinded by grief you would have done anything in that moment to save your livelihood, even if it meant turning your own life to ash. 

Vash’s gaze softened, a shimmer of sympathy just behind those yellow lenses. “I’m sorry that happened to you.” You nodded, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. He sounded truly sincere. 

“I can’t tell you where he went exactly,” Vash said, “but I can tell you that he will come back. Do you have anywhere you need to be?” 

“No…” You trailed. 

“If you're comfortable, you’re more than welcome to stay. I know your in Nai’s room, he wouldn’t let you stay anywhere else,” he smiled, “so you can stay as long as you need to. I’ll have to go get some food. I’ll ask Meryl for help, all I have are donuts right now.” He muttered to himself counting on his fingers as he wracked off a measly grocery list. 

“Vash,” you started. 

He looked up “yeah?”

“I’m going to…uh…go back to the room.” Nai’s room. You could barely say his name as everything settled. You wanted to sleep, the adrenaline of the chase and Nai’s mysterious identity revealed drained so much from you. As you slowly dragged yourself from the hall, Vash’s concerned goodbye muffled in the back of your mind, you thought about everything you could say to him, could possibly ask him, but didn’t know if you should. Would he kill you like the stories said? He could, if the way he had acted with the doctor was anything to go by. He had thrown the man without so much as lifting a finger.  

You had no idea what you were going to do when he got back. 

Millions Knives had not found John Yu to be that much of a threat when they had first interacted. He didn’t think much of him. He was nearly half a foot shorter than Knives and Knives had to look down at the yipping idiot of a man. He dressed tastelessly and carried himself like every other peacocking leader that roamed the streets. Knives found it all quite disgusting. But, after learning of his bullish behavior and his desire to get back at you, every one of Knives’ opinions changed.

If John wanted to play dirty, he was more than happy to beat him at his own game.

“Who are you?” The guard that was stationed at Yu's underground hideout was robust, much larger than Knives was especially with all of the tech poking out of every crevice of his body, but Knives did not waver. He did not stutter or stumble, well aware that the man in front of him may have been intimidating to most, stronger than the common, but he was nothing compared to him. 

Knives said nothing as the henchman stared him down. A few onlookers, regulars he assumed, filtered past them in the dim hallway. Scandalisly clad women tucked beneath the arms of drunken men, gangsters with cigars clenched between yellowing teeth. A child, thin from starvation, scurried past with a money bag held tightly in his bony hands.

Knives' mood continued to sour. 

Humans can’t help themselves it seemed. They basked in this lifestyle and even enjoyed it. He found it pathetic. 

“I am here to see John Yu.”

“Boss doesn’t have appointments today,” the man grunted. “Come back later.”

“I will speak to him now.” He did not have the patience for this. He attempted to step past the hulking man, but the guard blocked him.

"I said," he repeated, spittle flying from his lips, "come back later." He nudged Knives away, causing the blonde to take a step back to catch himself. Knives regarded the man with disdain but before the henchmen could comment a set of blades slithered from Knives' stomach, piercing the guard and sending him to the floor. Other men, alerted by the commotion appeared, and Knives cut them down where they stood. "Useless," he muttered. They were all too slow.

He watched as groups of patrons scrambled, many of them escaping through hall doors, locking themselves away. Knives let them, they weren't his target so he didn't care what they did. He stepped over the leaking body of the henchman and nudged the door open with his foot, before slipping inside. His steps were silent, his eyes narrow. 

John Yun sat at a round table, poker chips and playing cards scattered along the chipping green paint of the wood. The light above them hung low and flickered. In the underground, the plants did not reach as well, and it was obvious by the taste of the stale air and dull lighting. 

Knives silently closed the door behind him. John, with a cigarette in his mouth, did not look up from the set in his hand as he spoke, the smoke puffing from his lips, “What’s all that screaming for? I’m trying to play here. Can you get those whores to settle down?”

“John Yun,” Knives said. 

“Who’s asking?” John pulled the cigarette from his lips and puckered them as he blew the offending smoke from his mouth. He regarded Knives coolly. His brow quirked, and a chuckle left him as his eyes roved over the blond man’s figure. 

“What are you wearing?” Knives cloak had dropped, gathered at his waist but still covered his legs. It was optimal for fighting, especially when his blades were so easily agitated by his emotions. He didn’t want to rip it again. It would create extra work for you.

“Do you know of a woman who works at the tailoring shop on 5th Street?” Knives said plainly. John pursed his lips, humoring the blonde’s question. He thought for a moment before leaning back in his car and crossing his arms over his chest. A grin split his cheeks, one that made Knives’ own twitch in irritation. 

“Course I do,” John said your name clearly, confidently, “beautiful girl. Stubborn though. I promised her the world and she didn’t take it.” 

The sound of your name falling from John’s lips only fueled the flames of anger that were licking at Knives' heart. How dare he speak of you so casually, so recklessly. Knives’ mind flashed to last night, how he descended upon your shop with an out-of-character eagerness. Ready to see you again. What he had come upon was not what he had expected. Your shop was swallowed by flames, figures, ones he wanted to desperately chase but couldn’t, and your terrified screams. 

He had felt fear, genuine fear, for the first time in a while as he watched you try and salvage the remains of the charred building. Your screams pierced him, and he felt as if his own chest was being clawed open at the sound of your distress. He had moved without thinking, his body going into an automatic mode of protection. He only thought about getting you out of there, keeping you safe. The shop could blow away in the wind for all he cared as long as you didn’t go with it. 

 “You want a go? I can pass her to you for the right price.” John’s men laughed, they continued their game unphased by the way their boss was speaking. 

“You destroyed her shop.” Knives said.

“Damn, news sure does travel fast, huh?” 

“Burnt her,” Knives continued, taking a single step forward. Several men at the table paused, watching him carefully from the corner of their eyes. One even reached for his gun. Knives could laugh at the motion, weapons would be useless against him. There all were too slow. These ones in particular were too human.

“Well,” John shrugged, “it's her own damn fault, tried to put the flames out herself.” 

Knives remained silent. John had confirmed for him everything that he needed. He glared, his eyes narrow, his nostrils flared and the harsh sound of rattling metal suddenly bounced off the walls. It mimicked the sound of a snake, curled just beneath the sandy floor of the rolling dunes surrounding the city. Waiting to strike.

John’s eyes narrowed, his amusement vanishing. “Can someone get this guy out of here?” He shifted uncomfortably as he leaned to look at the door behind him. “Why the hell is the door closed,” he kicked the leg of the man to his left and nodded towards the door, “What do I pay you guys for? Letting creeps like him in. Get them to drag him outta here already. He’s freaking me out.”

John’s man stood and confidently strolled past Knives. The blond followed him carefully, his eyes tracking his motions like a beast hunting its prey. The rattling grew louder, and the lights in the room trembled violently as the henchman reached for the door. When he flung it open, the reprimand that was ready to fall from his lips puddled to the floor. 

You could smell the blood as the door banged against the opposite wall. The hall was littered with bodies, suited men with guns still held tightly in their hands lay face down on the concrete floors. Red sprayed across the walls, pooled beneath their chests, and stained their clothes. 

The henchman at the door choked and immediately reached for his pistol. He spun, unlatched the safety, and fired without hesitation. But Knives was faster, far faster, his blades sprouted from his back so quickly that he wondered if they ripped his skin. He effortlessly blocked the bullet.

The men at the table scrambled, brandishing their own weapons as they opened fire on the blonde. Knives were unphased and rather bored with their poor attempts to defend themselves. His blades whipped, whizzing through the air as they cut off the hands of two men, sliced through the chest of another, and chopped the legs from the last. They all fell to the floor uselessly, lifeless. They stood no chance. 

As quickly as they had descended upon them they had fallen and Knives was left, alone, with the man who was the cause of your fear and discomfort.

John, in a shoddy attempt to hide himself, had flipped the table. Cards and chips scattered. Knives watched as John pathetically peaked above the curved edge of his useless shield. Their eyes connected, and he duked. Knives could hear the shuffling of fabric and the tell-tale click of a gun. With a lack of grace, John stumbled to his feet and fired. Knives stepped to the side, dodging the round without so much as a flinch. He was toying with him at this point, enjoying the way John’s confidence continued to fizzle. 

Knives stepped forward, John backward. Forward, back, forward, back. Until John was pinned to the back wall with nowhere to run. No place to hide. 

“What do you want from me?” John stuttered, “If it’s the girl you can have her. Whatever you want.” Knives blades shimmered under the fluorescence, and with supernatural precision, he lodged several of them into the wall around John. A halo of sharp fury. John slid to the floor and Knives stepped toward him, watching as the man scrambled to secure his weapon.

John’s hands trembled as he went to fire again, but the gun clicked. The cartridge was empty. He had no more bullets. He looked at the weapon, hit the side of it twice with his palm, and tried again. Click. Nothing. 

Millions Knives’ grin was so wide his face nearly split in two. The man pleaded. 

“Please, I am sorry. I will fix the shop, and buy her her fabrics again. My men will look after it I—” he yelped as Knives bloody blades moved. Dancing back and forth around them. John struggled to follow, eyes jumping frantically from one blade to another. One slashed straight through his gun, the silver metal falling to the ground in two solid pieces. John’s hands bled.

Knives reached for John. He wrapped a hand around his throat, lifting him from the ground effortlessly. John kicked, choking as he clawed at the pale man’s hand. Knives wanted this moment to be slow. To be agonizing. Personal. He watched as John’s face turned from red to blue as the air left him and just when it was about to ashen he would lighten the pressure, allowing the man the opportunity to gulp down air involuntarily. 

“P-please,” John croaked. Knives blades rose, surrounding him like the angel of death and John’s panicked eyes bulged.

“Do you know who I am?” John scanned Knives’ face, eyes darting from feature to feature babbling nonsense. Knives continued, “You clearly do because you have been throwing my name around so casually. Stealing money, harassing shops, threatening my seamstress under the guise that I am suddenly your dog. When I am not.” 

 John bucked desperately as he frantically tried to get away. Knives laughed this time, truly amused that the man discovered that he had now come face-to-face with the notorious and supposed evil that walked the streets of Julai. 

“Your Millions Kn-” Knives’ blades descended upon John swiftly, blessing the sinner salvation from his own vile existence. Knives did not let him finish. He did not have the right to speak his name so casually.

Thud.

As his body hit the ground, something fell from his coat. 

Your book. 

The bastard had taken your book. It was still covered in soot from the flames, crinkled from the lack of care it had received since falling into John’s possession. Knives scoffed, using a chain of dulled blades to pick it up. 

He tucked it into his cloak, pulled his hood up, and left. John’s head was held tightly in his grasp, swinging carelessly from the scalp. 

As he left the underground, with nothing but blood trailing him, the lights shuttered off and Millions  Knives disappeared into the night. 

He has gifts to give, and he wouldn’t make you wait any longer. 

Two days he had been gone, two days of silence. 

Or relative silence, Vash was a lot more talkative than you had anticipated. Since meeting him, the blonde would pop up everywhere you were, which only consisted of two places. Nai’s bedroom and the sparsely stocked kitchen. 

After your initial introduction, you had barely any sleep. Your brain ran on fumes, pushing scenario after scenario through you as you anticipated both the worst and the best of Nai’s return. So, in an attempt to remedy tonight’s thoughts you explored. The lights of the halls were on 24/7 you had discovered, like that of a factory, and you trudged through the corridors until you found something familiar. Most of the rooms had been locked, secured with codes and bioscanners but the two halls down and tucked into the corner of an alcove was an open archway that led straight into the building's kitchen. 

And here you were, shuffling through the cabinets and perusing drawers in an attempt to find something to stave off the late-night anxiety-filled hunger. There was hardly anything to eat, a few fruits and vegetables but nothing of substance. You muttered your confusion. Did no one eat around here? Nai didn’t seem to eat meat but he had to eat something with a physique like that.

“You alright?” You yelped, slamming the utensil drawer shut. Peaking over your shoulder you were greeted with the unruly mop of Vash’s blonde hair. He was barefoot and without his glasses, a tired glaze in his eyes as he hid a yawn behind his palm.

“Couldn’t sleep,” You said in an attempt to feign casualness. 

“Me neither,” he said. “Too hungry.” his voice was groggy, and the rolled-up pant leg and lopsided and baggy top were a clear indication that he had just rolled out of bed. He shuffled past you, unphased and unbothered as he sifted through the cabinets. He opened a few doors and grumbled to himself as he went, “Where did I put them?” He whined when the next set of doors were opened to reveal nothing but dishes. 

“Meryl hid them again didn’t she?” He said. You cocked a brow. “Hid what?” 

“My donuts!” he cried. “She always says I eat too many but I can’t eat enough. How can I get through the day without them.” he sniffed. Was he about to cry? You snorted, trying not to laugh as he wobbled around desperately trying to find the food he oh so craved. 

“Found them!” He triumphantly yelled. You jumped. “She couldn’t hide them for me forever.” The blonde, tall as he was, successfully retrieved his snacks from the highest shelf in the kitchen. “I have no idea how she even hid these,” he flung open the lid and grabbed one stuffing the whole glazed donut into his mouth as he offered the box to you. “Want one?” You obliged. 

“So, what’s really the matter?” Vash asked, leaning against the counter. He placed the box at his hip, “The Millions Knives thing still on your mind?” 

You sighed as you took a pathetic bite of your snack, “Have you heard from him?” You didn’t know if they had any way of communicating with one another, but since they were brothers it wouldn’t be unusual for either of them to reach out. 

“Nope,” Vash said. 

“You aren’t concerned?” 

Vash shrugged, “I’ve dealt with worse.” He plucked another donut from the box. “These are so good,” he muttered, “You want another?” You declined. The sweetness unsettled your stomach, or maybe it was your nerves, you couldn’t tell the difference. 

“It will be fine,” he said confidently. “He’ll be back soon.” 

“Has he always been like this?” You questioned. 

“More or less,” Vash said. “We had a complicated childhood.” This was the second time he mentioned the struggles they both faced in their youth and like before he did not expand upon it much. “Nai got the worst of it, I think. So the side of him you’re seeing is something new for all of us. I’ve never seen him so flustered.” Vash snorted. 

“Flustered?” You could barely decipher the man, he was so stoic 90% of the time that any twitch of the lip or shift in his eyes could mean a million different things.

“Oh yeah,” Vash laughed. “He doesn’t interact with you guys much and he hates not understanding things so he tries to make up for it in other ways.” 

“What do you mean?” The way he worded the phrase hinted at something else. “You guys?” Vash looked at you, donut number three already stuffed in his mouth. He paused, and his eyes widened as he gulped down the pastry. He grabbed another and held it between his teeth as he quickly closed the box and stashed it away.  “Nothing!” His words were muffled, “I’m suddenly feeling tired. I think I’m going to head back to bed. Have a goodnight! I’m sure Nai will be back soon!” He darted out of the room like his ass was on fire.

You rose a brow, how odd. 

You stood in silence for a little longer, muddled by your own thoughts. You glanced at the analog clock that was stationed over the entrance when your eyes started to go suspiciously heavy, 3:00 am it read. You sighed, you should try and get some sleep if only for an hour or so. You peeled your fatigued body from the counter and trudged back to Nai’s room. 

As you approached the door you squinted.  A plain and unassuming cardboard box sat at the foot of it. You reached for it, curious. This place was relatively empty only Vash, his companions, the Doctor, and Nai occupied the building to your understanding so anyone whoever placed this here placed it on purpose. Or you hoped they did at least. 

You plucked the lid from the top, tucking it underneath the box as you observed the object within. 

John’s beady and lifeless eyes stared back at you. His face slackened and grey, etched in a permanent twist of fear. Your stomach turned and your body froze. Your hands started to tremble. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. Your lips gapped, fish-like, as you floundered to find reason. Understanding. You had just seen him a few days again, why was he at your door? His head detached from his body. Dead. Who did this? 

“Do you like it?” Your head shot up, eyes darting towards the sound of the one voice you had been hoping to hear from for days. 

“What?” You choked.

“Do you like it?” Nai nodded towards the box in your hands. He was shrouded in his cloak, your repairs a defining detail that confirmed his identity. The pristine white, however, was corrupted by stains of red the edges dipped in it like a paintbrush. His feet splattered with it, leaving a trail as he walked. 

He looked terrifying. The corridor lights flickered overhead, his shadow stretched up the walls. His eyes, inexplicably bright in the depths of his hood, were unblinking. You could barely see the rest of his face. 

This wasn’t the Nai you knew. This wasn’t the man who had visited your shop for weeks, the man who gifted you flowers and books and saved you from a burning building. This was Millions Knives and your fears had been realized. 

You dropped the box your scream piercing the still air as John’s head rolled from its packaging. Millions Knives jumped, startled by your fear; the hood of his cloak fell to reveal a look of confusion. “What is wrong?” He stepped forward arm outstretched in comfort. You noticed the blood on his fingers and only panicked more. Those arms dragged you to safety only a few days ago, and those hands delicately wrapped your wounds but now they were stained with the blood of the man who once harassed you. You wanted vengeance, sure, but not like this. Never like this.

 You slammed the scanner beside you as you tried to open the door to his room. Knives’ stepped closer. “What’s wrong?” He asked again. He was concerned, genuinely, which only scared you more. How could he think this was okay?

He reached for the head and you recoiled. He froze. Like approaching a caged animal he spoke slowly, his tone low. Even. “It’s for you.” He said, “He won’t bother you anymore. None of them will.”

Of course he won’t, he’s dead!

“Stay away from me,” you whispered. Millions Knives stepped closer, you danced away. Just out of his grasp, the deceased separating you. You tried not to look down, the image of John's severed head already permanently seared into your memory, but looking at Knives conveyed only panic. Fear. 

A stampede of steps echoed from the opposite end of the hall and you whipped around to see what it was. Vash stood several yards away, flanked by a man with dark hair and a petite woman. Without thinking you darted towards him. You didn’t know what Knives would do but Vash was a beacon of light in this otherwise terrifying situation and your only hope. As you scrambled to him, tripping over yourself, tears fell.

“Vash! He’s going to-” You were suddenly thrust into the air, your legs dangling uselessly underneath you. The sensation was dizzying, the sudden jerky movement unexpected. A metal chain was wrapped around your waist. It was cool to the touch and the pressure was just enough to keep you from falling. More tentacle-like chains hovered around you, forming a dome. You glanced over your shoulder and a chill ran through you, your breath vanishing. The chains sprouted from Knives body, like branches from a tree they grew from his back and moved hypnotically around him.

It made him look other-worldly. Menacing.

You thrashed, trying to worm your way out of the binds. When it proved useless your panic boiled over. “Please let me go. I won’t say anything I swear.” You were a blubbering mess, everything was blurred from your tears and snot ran from your nose. And, unfortunately, the words you spewed sounded all too familiar. Repeated too soon. Despite your cries, the chains did not loosen but they also did not tighten. You remained in limbo.

“Nai!” His twin called. The small woman beside Vash looked panicked and the dark-haired man was just as tense. None of them carried a weapon, but they all looked poised to strike if necessary. 

“P-please.” You used your last breath to send Millions Knives one final plea before your head hung in defeat. Silence filled the space, everyone holding their breaths. After what felt like hours you were deposited on the ground with an unexpected gentleness. The cords unraveled and slithered away. Defeated. Your begging worked and with your newfound freedom you darted towards Vash, barreling into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. The woman, Meryl you assumed, touched your arm. “You’re okay, he won’t hurt you.” 

Million Knives felt his heart stop at the sight of you running in the arms of his brother. Of course, you would run to him, and of course, you would find comfort in him, he was always the luckier one. Always the one who got all the attention. 

Millions Knives had done all of this for you. He hunted the men who had hurt you and reaped them of their wrongdoings. You didn’t have the strength to do that, and just as the text said, it was his job to protect you. But you didn’t want that.

You didn’t want him. 

Filled with anguish the blond collected himself, snatched the head from the floor, and ducked back into the shadows. His steps were silent as he slipped away and buried his emotions back into the grave.

The energy in the home had shifted drastically since Millions Knives delivered his unwanted present. You, justifiably panicked, remained locked in your room for days, only allowing the doctor and Vash to occasionally visit when necessary. Vash had offered to take you home but you wanted to remain, fearful that you would be retaliated against for Knives’ actions. Knives had gone missing entirely, drowning in his own despair he had chosen to hide away. And, despite his brother's bottomless patience, Vash was growing irritated with his brother's theatrics. There was only so much humanity can handle, and he needed to understand that.

Meryl, tucked against Vash’s side, counted the items in the plastic bag she held. Fruits, vegetables, meats, and various snacks filled it, “Do you think she’ll like these more?” The woman had met you the night of your panic attack and despite not knowing much about you, her caring nature had quickly fueled her to look after your more human needs. Everyone else who lived in this house was supernatural in some way, altered by science or the cosmos and she was the only one who had a schedule to be followed. Oh, to be human. 

“She’ll love it, Meryl.” Vash pulled her closer, “I just hope she eats something this time.” You hadn’t consumed a full meal in days. Meryl had cooked up a few simple settings and delivered them to you but the bowls and plates returned to her half empty. Nothing was ever finished. She was disappointed but she understood. 

The couple weaved the hallways with familiarity but when they passed Nai’s music room they paused. The piano was singing. Meryl looked up at Vash and him down at her and she nodded. “Go talk to him.” The blonde sighed. He leaned down and Meryl rose onto her toes placing a gentle hand on his chest as the two share a sweet and encouraging kiss before they separated. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” She said, patting him. “Look luck.” She smiled hesitantly before she slipped away. 

Vash smoothed back his hair and adjusted his glasses. Preparing to have a conversation with Nai was like welcoming war. Stubborn and pigheaded Nai was always a challenge to get through to but Vash would be damned if he didn't try. The man carefully nudged open the door, stepping silently inside the dark room.

Crouched over his aging piano Nai was enveloped in dark shadows. If it weren’t for his eyesight Vash wouldn’t have seen him in the darkness.

He flicked on the light.

“What are you doing!” Nai hissed, he glared at his brother the whips of his weapon snapping at him. Vash brushed the metal aside, unphased. 

“Stop sulking.”

Nai’s glare was so fierce it would have made the average person piss themselves and run away, but Vash wasn’t an average person. Vash was his brother and no amount of yelling or screaming or spitting was going to get him to walk away.

“I’m not sulking,” Nai said. 

“You are sulking.” Vash countered.

“Leave.”

“No.”

“Vash.”

“Nai.”

“Do you not have something better to do? Humans   to pleasure?”

“Did that this morning.”

“You are disgusting, touching them.”

“You didn’t find it disgusting a few days ago.”

Nothing.

Got him. 

“Why did you do it, Nai?” Nai turned back to his piano as Vash fell into the seat beside him, his back to the keys while Nai remained forward. Vash could see Millions Knives take shape. The mask painted itself defensively but he didn’t stare for long. Like looking a predator too long in the eye would make them strike, watching Millions Knives would do the same. 

“He was troubling her.” Nai justified.

“You going to kill everyone who bothers her?”

“If she asks me to.”

“Did she ask you this time?”

“...No.” His brother whispered. 

“How are you going to fix this?” 

“I do not know.” Millions Knives’ hands paused over the keys and fell into Nai’s lap. He twisted the fabric of his cloak the same way he did when they he was young and nervous.

Vash reached over and placed his hand over his brother's. Nai flinched but did not retreat, letting his twin soothe his worrying fingers as Rem always did. “You know you’re going to have to tell her.” Their secret was out, more or less, Nai’s lack of control made sure of that. Vash could hide his gun, Wolfwood could camouflage his strength, but the weapons that lived within his brother were not so easily disguised. “She already knows we had a rough childhood,” Nai jerked, panicked as he looked at him, Vash was quick to reassure him. “I didn’t tell her anything specific, I knew you wouldn’t want me to. It’s not my place, all she knows is that it was…difficult.” Nai would have laughed if he wasn’t filled with so much loathing. Diccult was an understatement. 

“...and if she doesn’t want to stay?” Nai questioned. 

“Then it’s her right to leave.” Vash said, “You scared her half to death Nai. All because you followed those books, which I told you were completely outdated, no one acts like that anymore. That’s why they’re called history books.” Nai scoffed and looked away. 

“Do you want her to stay scared of you?” Vash asked. 

“No,” Nai bit his tongue, he said that too quickly for his liking. Vash gave him a knowing smile, Nai’s stomach flipped. 

“Haven’t accepted the fact that you like her, have you?” It was more of a statement than a question and Nai attempted a rebuttal but failed. “She is a friend.” 

“A friend that you brought a severed head to? A friend you brought flowers to? Offered a priceless book too? Yeah, I sure do have friends like that.” Nai wanted to shove his brother from the bench. “Nai, you’re in love with her. Just accept it.” 

“I am not-”

“There are more people that can love you other than Rem and I.” Nai pursed his lips, his eyes stinging at the statement, “Let yourself rest Nai, all of it’s over. We’re together and I'm not going anywhere. Just let yourself love again. Like when we were kids.” Nai pulled his hand away from his brother, placing them back on the keys. He refused to look at him. He was done talking, Vash could tell he had hit a nerve.

“Just remember how you feel around her, and ask yourself what you want. If you want her to stay, show her that you aren’t dangerous. Show her the man she first met, but don’t hide what you used to be. That's not fair to her.” 

Vash sighed and stood, dusting his pants and strolling towards the door. As he stepped out he threw over his shoulder, “She hasn’t left yet by the way. She’s still staying in your room.”

Nai’s finger slipped, and a key rang. Vash smirked and slipped out. He left the light on and Knives began to play. He had the melancholic song memorized and as he played he stared at the stand, where your book sat, rebound, and cleaned. 

You had only heard live music a few times in your life. Julai had plenty of street players but professional performances were far and few between and often an arm and leg to attend. 

And while you loved the sound of guitars being plucked in the early morning hours and bucket drummers beating rhythms for spare change, nothing compared to the otherworldly sound coming from the opposite side of the door in front of you. It was celestial. Smooth and rich and deep with emotion it may have been a muffled sound but clear in intention. Whoever was playing had a lot to say, and no way of expressing it except through the keys beneath their fingers. 

You had been in hiding for three days, you begrudgingly admit. But who could blame you? All of the revelations from the past few weeks had come bubbling to the surface overflowing so rapidly that you had no time to process it. Today was the first day you had attempted to venture out. After hours of contemplation and a small panic attack, you discerned that leaving, if only for a few minutes, was better than rotting away. 

Now, your curiosity outweighed your anxiety and you pressed yourself against the door. It was heavy but cracked, and you pressed your cheek against the metal, peering through the sliver to get a good look at the player. Your breath immediately caught, your heart skipping. Nai sat at the keys, his back to you. His cloak was pooled at his waist, draped along the bench, and cascading to the floor. He wore the same skintight white suit from before and it gave you a clear view of his back, the muscles pushing and pulling with the ebb and flow of his movements. 

Your mind trailed to the first few days of interaction, how he didn’t like the music you played, and how you asked if he could do better. He could, clearly. At any other moment you would have joined him, sat beside him, and asked him to show you a few songs but you stopped yourself when you remember Millions Knives. Remembering the head at your feet and the strange chains that left his body. Interacting with him as you usually did was not going to happen even if you secretly wanted to.  

You underestimated the amount of weight you had pressed against the door and it rushed open; you stumbled to catch yourself. The door flew and you fell, grasping the hand to keep yourself from hitting the floor. 

Nai whipped around, blades sprouting from his back. You gasped, and Nai’s eyes widened. 

“S-sorry,” you scrambled to balance yourself and darted down the hall. 

You ignored Nai calling your name.

  Another day, another moment of uncertainty. 

Doctor Conard, who you had seen sparingly in your time here, sent you a message through a strange display system that hung on the wall of Nai’s bedroom. 

‘Floor 3. My Office. The final observation of your wounds.’ Doctor Conrad only came into contact with you when he was treating your burns, he had let you handle most of it and gave you gauze and cream to use on for the pain and to stave off infection. Your jar had run out but fresh skin had grown over all of your wounds and nothing remained but an annoying itch. 

Finding Conrad’s office was more challenging than you had anticipated. This place was a maze and your growing headache was not helping your navigation skills. When you finally found the room you could have sang to the heavens. You knocked, and Conard called you in. You stepped inside with meek politeness. Conard was no Vash and he was no Nai so you were cautious around him. 

Conrad stood by a set of cabinets and counters, scratching away at a stack of papers. 

“Sit.” He said, pointing his pen toward a pair of chairs in front of his desk. “Unwrap your hands.” 

You listened to Conard shuffle as you unwound the gauze, you flexed your fingers and were happy to note the lack of pain. When Conard appeared in front of you, he tossed a manila folder on his desk before offering his hand. “Let me see,” you placed your hand in his and as he examed them in silence you took the time to take in the room. 

Like the rest of the building, it was spacious and sterile, the walls and ceilings high. Behind him, stacks of books were piled on his desk and while you waited for him to look at your other hand you read the spines. Plants and Humans: Common DNA Chains. Plant Lifecycles. Plants: A Guide.

You knew sparingly about Plants and, like everyone else, didn’t question how they did the things they did because it was just too scientific. 

“Is this a plant facility?” You questioned.

“More or less,” Conrad said, “I research them.” 

“Does Nai do the same?” It would explain why he was so knowledgeable in more scientific subjects. Conard regarded you suspiciously. “In some ways, yes.” He said.  

“Do you know what those things that come out his back are?” You suddenly asked abruptly.

“Your hands are healed, the itching should subside in a few days.” Conrad ignored your question. He handed you a small vile containing a pale yellow liquid. “Rub this on your hands before you sleep, it will reduce any remaining inflammation and aid with the itch.” 

“Thank you,” you said. Conard nodded. He clearly wasn't going to humor you, so you decided against repeating yourself. 

You rubbed your hands together, content with the way the chilled air soothed them. As you reached the exit, the door to the office slide open and you froze mid-step. 

Nai stood in front of you. Your name rushed from his lips in surprise. Your mind flashed. 

“Excuse me,” you whispered, ducking to the side, arms wrapped around your chest. 

You didn’t notice Nai’s trailing gaze and outstretched hand as you disappeared around the corner.

You didn’t sleep that night.

“Do you like to read?” Meryl asked, she stood on a step stool in front of a tall bookcase putting away texts. You, Meryl, and Vash were in the library, the couple having dragged you to the room in an attempt to cure you of your sulking. You had learned that Wolfwood, the man who had been with them the night of Nai’s incident, was a part of the couple's relationship. You had yet to have any interaction with him, but from how Meryl described him he wasn’t one for social gatherings.

“I mean, kinda?” You said, picking up a small book from the table. It was in a language you didn’t understand. “I prefer-” 

“Sewing, right?” Meryl smiled as she paused, the pile of books she held to her chest touching her chin. “You fixed Vash’s clothes.” 

“Oh?” You looked at the blond who was sprawled out across the white chairs in the center of the room. Half asleep. Without his signature red coat, you could see the stitches on his shirt clearly. How had you not noticed that before? Nai never wore black. 

“Is it holding up alright?” You asked. Meryl shrugged, “I assume so. Vash is always tearing up his clothes so I’m sure he’ll ask to get them fixed again soon.”

“He is a troublemaker?” You joked. Meryl clearly cared for him, the way the two regarded each other was always filled with adoration. 

“If only you knew.” She laughed. She pointed towards another pile of books just two shelves down, smaller than the set she had just put away, “can you hand me those?” 

You casually handed her each book, looking at the titles as you did so. Mating Rituals of Early Humans. Female Anatomy. Masculine and Feminine —

“They’re a part of Conrad’s research,” Meryl explained as she took each one and tucked them into their respective shelves, “mostly outdated garbage.” 

“I see,” you snorted. Who would find any of this useful?

“Nai is reading most of them though.”

“Why?” You asked.

Meryl paused, looking at you from the corner of her eye before shrugging, “Not sure, likes science I guess.” For some reason, you didn’t believe her.

The two of you worked in mutual silence for a while, organizing books and dusting shelves. You weren't sure how you go managed to get so involved but you enjoyed having your hands busy. Welcomed the distraction. 

You jumped when the door suddenly slid open and while you expected the third member of the throuple to arrive you were greeted by someone you had not spoken to in days. 

“Oh, hello Nai!” Meryl chirped, nearly falling as she turned her perch. “Do you need something?”

Nai glanced at the pile of books on the desk you stood beside and then at you. Your breath hitched. Should you say something to him?

“Nai,” his name left your lips before you could stop it and the blonde's eyes widened. He looked tired, exhausted. The brightness you were so fond of in his gaze was dim and bags hung from his eyes. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off.

“I’m in love with you,” he said.

Squeak. Crash. 

Vash had fallen from his seat and to the tiled floor, crooked and bent in shock. He sputtered and Meryl gasped, covering her mouth scandalously.

“What?” you whispered.

“And I think that is our cue to leave.” Vash said. He physically picked Meryl up and moved her from the bookcase. He deposited the books she held on the chair and he swerved around the library’s furniture. He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. Meryl’s gaze never left the two of you, her lips smacking together as she tried to get out a comment. “W-wait, wait, Vash I want to know what happens-” 

“Good luck, brother!” Vash said patting his sibling on the back as he dragged the reporter from the room. 

“Woah, what are you two rushing around for?” Wolfwood was here.

“Let’s go,” Vash said.

“What I just brought your damn snacks, I’m not leaving-”

“Nai confessed!” Meryl blurted out. 

“Woah, seriously?” Wolfwood said, “took him long enough.”

“Guys now is not the time,” Vash said. “It’s a sensitive topic.” 

“But I have snacks,” Wolfwood said, “we can watch the show.”

“Wolfwood!” 

“What!” 

The door slammed shut. Their voices faded. 

It was just you and Nai. 

And there was nowhere for you to hide. 

Chapter Text

“I love you,” he repeated. 

“You…love me?” you echoed. 

Nai’s brows furrowed. “Yes.” 

“Are you serious right now?” There is the sound of shuffling fabric and a low thud. You dart towards towards the door but you remain focused on your conversation. 

“Yes,” He said, “I am serious.” There was a look of bewilderment on his face, as if he was more confused about why you weren’t accepting his confession. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. Nai flinched, barely noticeable under the fluorescent lighting. “Oh, I have lost my mind.” You whispered to yourself. You were supposed to be appalled by the confession, wrought with disgust at the images of blood and gore but those three words out weighed the entirety of what happened. Well, they almost did. A chill ran up your spine, one of excitement and anticipation. You liked Nai far too much to discredit his words but you needed to be guided by more than just lovesickness. 

Reigning in your bubbling insanity and pushing forward with logic you regard the man with calmness, your cheeks, however, remain heated. 

“I-” Nai stepped forward, you stepped back. His eyes flit from your feet to your face and he pulled back. He knew his place.

“Thank you, Nai.” You swallowed, “But why are you saying this now?” You needed to tread upon this delicately; with a sensitivity you were unused to.

“Because that is what the text says.” There is the sound of flesh against flesh, as if someone had hit themselves, followed by a hissing shush. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Text?” Your brows furrowed. 

Nai is reading most of them though. Likes science, I guess?  Meryl's words pierce your rolling thoughts.

You paused, your head turning to the plethora of books stacked by your waist. You pointed towards them. “These?” 

“Yes.” 

“You’ve been reading these?” You asked. 

“Yes,” Nai replied with a stern nod. “They have proven useful.” 

Mating Rituals of Early Humans. You reached for the book and began skimming its pages. Your finger trailed the table of contents. Everything ranging from ritualistic offerings to child rearing were mentioned. You flipped to the front, searching for the publication date.

“N-nai,” He perked up at the use of his name, “Nai this is from centuries ago?” You turned the book towards him, pressing your figure against the yellowing pages. 

“I am aware.” There was a harsh, ‘God, is he stupid?’ that came from the other side of the wall. An, 'I promise, I warned him,' responded.

“I-” You gently close the book and place it back atop its counterparts. You didn’t want to know how old the rest of them were. “Why are you reading these?” 

“‘Chapter 1,’” He began to recite the contents of the book, “‘History. ‘Humans are known for being creatures of connection. They require emotional support, physical affection and fueled by sexua-’” 

“Nai!”

He paused, tilted his head and continued, “‘Chapter 4: Strength, to be a desirable mate, humans must prove their  strength and resilience. The stronger the mate, the more sought after they are.’ You are weak,” you know he doesn’t mean it as an insult, but that does not excuse the lack of tact, “and I have to show that I can keep you safe.” 

“By killing a man!” 

“Sometimes it’s necessary. He grew too confident in his own strength. It was a simple task. I can prove to you that I can defeat someone stronger.” 

“Please do not do that.” 

“‘Chapter 6: The Provider,” Nai said, “‘while females are considered the child rearers, their tasks cannot be completed without the necessary materials. It is the job of the male to bring the female what is needed to balance their relationship.’”

“The flowers, and the thread,” you whispered.

“You showed interest in the flowers. I know that they are rare on this planet, but I have access to what you wanted. The thread was to help you finish your work. I can provide for you. ” He said. Your heart jumps, the back of your neck tingling. 

“Chapter 9: Sexual Reproduction-”

“That’s enough!” you yelped pathetically.

“Do you not wish to know more?” 

“Nai, we don’t do those things anymore. Well, at least not how the book is telling you too. We are human.” 

“I am not-” He stopped himself, hands clenching. The weapons, the strength, the clothes. You had concluded rather quickly that the man was genetically advanced in some way. There were far too many variables for you to argue otherwise. Now what made him that way, you hadn’t a single clue. 

Whatever it was, he was clearly unprepared to tell you. He clammed up, the confidence in his eyes vanishing as quickly as he had confessed. He looked like a kicked puppy and your resolve shattered. 

“Nai, I care about you. A lot.” you said, “More than I think I should, especially after the stunt you pulled.” You took a deep breath. Be realistic, be realistic. “But what you did was too much. I don’t care what those books say. You could have done it another way.” 

“I can prove it to you-” 

“I don’t know how our relationship is going to be after this, you gave me a dead man’s head, like it was nothing more than a -- Excuse me?” 

“I can prove to you that I am a good partner. A desirable mate.” His tone was matter-of-fact, without room for counter. “The books are no longer necessary.”

Wait, huh?

He said nothing more as he turned on his heel and skillfully slid the door open.

Wolfwood, Vash and Meryl fell at his feet, the eavesdropping culprits puddling at the bottom of the door. Vash looked up at Nai sheepishly before rushing to stand, leaving his partners boneless on the floor. He adjusted his glasses and his coat and berated them, his voice not as serious as it should have been for a scolding. 

“What did I tell you!” He accused as Meryl and Wolfwood gathered themselves, “I said no, it’s rude!” 

Nai was unfazed and with a silent shuffle he stepped over the couple and disappeared into the corridor leaving his brother to his poor acting and even more pathetic dramatics. Wolfwood snapped, “you idiot, you were the one that whispered you wanted to stay!” 

Vash gasped at Wolfwood's accusation, “You would lie about such a thing, I would never spy on my brother.” 

You don’t know what they’re arguing about because Nai’s declaration left you shell shocked. Your arms swing limply at your sides, your gaze distant as your cheeks reach a scorching temperature. The conversation was swift and effective? You weren't sure if he got the point. Hard pressed on proving his abilities to you. What did that even mean? 

Meryl sent you a sympathetic smile but all you could do was sign and tug at the bridge of your nose. Eyes closed in contemplation. 

You were never going to have a normal day again, were you?

You couldn’t decipher whether Nai was avoiding you or was ultimately planning your embarrassing demise. You haven’t seen much of him since his confession and neither Vash nor Meryl knew anything about possibility of him scheming.

Now, tucked away in the kitchen and hunched over the table with medical supplies strewn across you moved to change the last set of wrappings on your hand. Your burn wounds healed enough to breathe most of the day but sometimes the itch that accompanied the process was nearly as unbearable as the pain.

Flustered, you felt your face heat. Were you avoiding him? No, not necessarily? You had seen him walking in the hallways, his figure blending near seamlessly with the backdrop of the tower and instead of approaching him you would dunk into the nearest, and darkest corridor. You wanted to give him space! Maybe be was just as overwhelmed as you were? Right? Wouldn't he be? You sigh as you work. Fine, yeah, maybe you were avoiding him. Just a little. Who could blame you! While the suffocating fear of him eased hour by hour, his overwhelming presence did not simply disappear. 

As you reached for a medical paste you froze at the sound of the kitchen door sliding open. There were no clicking boots or smell of cigarettes so you knew who it was.

You made an effort not to look at Nai, frozen as you listened intently to his movements. You willed yourself still as he pulled out a chair, his cloak gathered at his waist, and slid into the seat. He placed a clear jar on the table, sliding it towards you. 

“The doctor told me to deliver this.” He said plainly. You made no move to collect it. “He said it’s stronger than the original medicine he gave you. You will only need to use it once.” You carefully reached for the jar but as your hands brushed against the cold container a sharp itch flared in your palm and you instinctively jerked back shaking your hand in an effort to dull it. 

Nai quickly reached out, gripping your wrist and pulling your hand away from your face. You froze, limb falling limp as you stared at him. His eyes connected with yours, danced from your hand and then your face. He tugged your wrist, gently, towards him and when you did not pull away he flipped your hand over, palm up as he opened the jar with his other. Your eyes widened and your stomach clenched. He dipped his fingers into the clear gel and smeared it across your palm, gently massaging the medicine into the skin. When he finished he wrapped them with the spare cloth you had brought along and delicately placed your hand back onto your lap.

He held out his hand

You stared at it. 

He stared at you. Fingers curling and uncurling.

“Your other hand,” he said, voice low. 

Oh!

You obliged and he repeated the action. Firm, steady and with a deft touch he spread the medicine, wrapped the wound and placed your hand back in your lap. Silently he cleared the scraps from the counter, taking the now empty jars and dropping them into the bin before leaving the room. Not a word was said. Not a sound was made. He was there and he was gone and you only had the remnants of his ghostly touch to remember what he had done. 

As soon as the door slid shut your face flared, heat rushing to your ears.

Has his hands always been that soft?

Nai shouldn’t feel out of place in his own bedroom. Granted, he rarely slept in the room; there was still a sense of security to locking himself away in his studio but his room was barely recognizable. In the weeks you had been living here you had accumulated a strange collection of items. Trinkets from his brother and lovers. Books from the library. Small things that showed that his room was slowly slipping from his owner ship and turning into yours. The bed was unmade, and given the state of your shop when he had first seen it, he would define this style of living in organized chaos. 

There were books stacked along the base of the bed, and a few were haphazardly balanced on the nightstand where the light of the lamp illuminated them. 

He hadn’t knocked when he entered, a habit of his own volition, and it didn't cross his mind that you could be in here until he stood at the end of the bed. 

Luckily you weren't.

Nai carefully pulled Flowers and Their Meanings from the confines of his cloak. The binding was no longer cracked, the cover free of char. It had taken him a few hours to rebind the piece, having originally used standard human materials, but when the glue did not dry as he wished and the threading snapped, he gave into his frustrations and used material made by his own hands. 

He silently placed the gift on the stack of books on the nightstand, wanting the delivery to be discreet. His original plan was to give you the book as a way soothe the sadness from the destruction of your shop but now it was to squash the fear that he saw flash in his eyes whenever you looked at him.

He never wanted you to be fearful of him and he felt himself shatter when he saw you scramble to escape him. He knew he was poor at handling his own emotions, to angry, to stubborn, and to passionate, for his own good. He struggled to find an appropriate outlet for that. 

Who knew offering you a dead body was the wrong way to express affection? Animals do it, why don’t humans? 

Nai held back a disgruntled grumble as his frustrations bubbled. He suppressed the searing heat that filled his chest and left. 

He secretly hoped he would run into on his way out, and was mildly disappointed when he didn’t.

He would just have to be patient. 

That same evening, you stumbled into your room and struggled to toe off your shoes, the boots caught on your socks. You grumbled as you reached for your heel, angling yourself to support your weight against the nightstand. But rather than finding security you discovered the humility of open air. With a sharp gasp you fell, knocking your head against the wall. You attempted to catch yourself but it only resulted in the lamp, books and various countertop accessories to come crashing down on your person. 

You groaned, pushing yourself up by your elbows. “God, that hurt.” 

You hissed as you stood, rubbing the back of your head. In a bout of blind frustration you forcefully kicked off your shoes, the boots wanting nothing more than to avoid your wrath. You quickly collected the fallen items, cursing your laziness. Meryl had given you plenty of books to read during your stay, claiming that the only ones who used them were her and the doctor. You happily borrowed them, and while reading through complex plant mechanics and the construction of the city of Julai were not in your genre tastes they were nonetheless interesting. As your hand skimmed an architecture book you paused. A faint glow pulsed beneath it, the lack of light from the lamp and the shadow of the bed intensifying it’s color. Meryl had never given you a glow in the dark book? You would have definitely remembered that. 

You shoved the stack of books beside the stand, not wanting to repeat your fiasco, and picked up the glowing text. 

“Flowers and Their Meanings…” You read slowly. Your eyes widened, your book! You thought you were never going to see it again. You fell to your knees and flipped through the pages. You thumbed them so quickly you were sure you’d get a paper-cut.

Tears welled in your eyes. The cover was beautiful. It felt like silk and glimmered as you tilted it under the light. It felt surprisingly like, “Nai?” you whispered. Brows furrowing. The detailing on the cover mimicked his cloak, the fabric of the same quality. A mildly cool touch that you could never forget. 

You looked at the door. An amused smile stretching across your lips. “Oh, Nai,” you sighed. You gingerly placed the book on the nightstand careful to leave it isolated from the rest of your things, not wanting to dirty it. As you returned to cleaning you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. 

All of this was so very unorthodox but you could not deny the fluttering that filled your chest. 

The one time you wanted to talk to Nai you could not find him. You had spent most of the night tossing and turning, your mind recounting everything that had happened but in a much different light. While still unsettled by the man’s actions with John, the book seemed to tip the scales in his favor. 

You couldn’t believe he had found it. Let alone repaired it for you. 

You hummed as you peaked your head into the kitchen. Nothing. 

The library? Empty. 

You slipped past the piano room. Silence. 

You had even played with the idea of checking Dr. Conrad’s office but you were sure he wasn’t there. 

After what felt like hours you stomped your foot in frustration. Where the hell was he? And where the hell were you? In your scavenger hunt you had managed to find yourself in a section of the tower you had yet to explore. There were no doors down this new hallway, save for a large one at the very end. Your curiosity got the better of you and trekked to it. 

There was a complex keypad to the left of it. A scanner for a hand stationed just below. You poked the screen and it flashed red. That should have been enough to deter you but your mind would not let the idea of entering the room rest. The delicate nature of the tower was completely opposite to this industrial monstrosity. 

You poked the keypad again. 

Red.

Again. 

Red. 

Agai-

The door suddenly snapped open and you jumped, yelping. 

A hiss and rush of air rustled your clothes as you tiptoed through the threshold. You shrieked as the door slammed shut, a billowing gust of wind picking up your hair and ballooning your clothes, the smell of antiseptic filling the air. What the hell? 

You struggled to keep your calm as the door ahead pushed along its track, sliding into the wall. You winced, raising your hand as you shadowed your eyes from the piercing light that filled the tunnel. 

The sun? The heat of it warmed your skin, chasing away the tower's chill. 

You timidly dipped past the door, the air leaving your lungs as you adjusted to the view.

Green, there was nothing but green. 

Julai was a city of smog and lights. High-rises and sand. The only green you were familiar with were those of neon signs that lined the metal walkways and they were nothing like the green of the world in front of you. 

It smelled amazing, rich and warm and clean. Things you were not used to. Your eyes skimmed the landscape, a large glass dome allowed for the light to shower every inch of the space. A greenhouse. You laughed, as you watched the grass sway, the trees rustling in the air that vented through the wall behind you. 

You rubbed your hands against your thighs in excitement unsure of what to do next. Were you supposed to be in here? Were you allowed to be? Plant life was rare on Gunsmoke, the rolling duns clear evidence of that, but here it was close enough for you to touch. 

“Hello.” 

You screamed, instinctively darting forward. You tripped on the gravel and gasped as you tilted towards the grassy field. Arms wrapped around your waist and in one swift movement you were hoisted back to your feet.

Nai’s grasp was strong but not suffocating. You spun in his embrace, slamming your hands against his chest in a vain attempt to scold him. “You have got to stop doing that!” You yelled in frustration, your heart racing. He wretched away from him, your hand pressing against your chest as you gulped down mouthfuls of air. 

Nai watched you, amused, “I will invest in bells next time.” 

When your heart settled you blushed, feeling like a cat who got caught in the cream and looked away. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m suppose to be in here but I was just-” 

“I let you in.” Nai interrupted. 

“-curious about what this was. And I was looking for you.”

“I let you in,” Nai repeated; brushing past you as he strolled into the field. His bare feet disappearing beneath the grass. It looked so soft and smelled divine. Nothing those artificial ecosystems could reproduce. You shuffled from foot to foot, unsure if you were supposed to follow. Nai looked over his shoulder, his gaze telling you all you needed to know. It's okay.

This time your boots slid from your feet with no protest. You carefully pressed your heel into the grass and your knees nearly buckled at the sensation. It was soft. You wiggled your toes, the blades tickling your feet. When you looked up Nai was no longer facing you but walking towards a large tree in the center of the dome. You trailed behind him, your steps doubled in comparison to his singles stride. He didn’t slow but you didn’t complain. The green quickly faded into red and you recognized the bright flowers as Geraniums, their delicate petals and shape depicted perfectly in your book. You carefully stepped through them terrified you were going to crush their perfect petals.

You grunted when you ran into something solid. Nai looked down at you, arms crossed and brow raised. “You should stop doing that.” He quipped. You blushed and looked away. 

“Where are we?” you asked. 

“Private garden,” he said. “I see that.” You said, rolling your eyes. The conversation felt familiar, like the ones you had back in your shop. Your tension eased.

“We made it for our mother.” He said. We. Him and his brother.

“Really?” 

Nai nodded and pressed a hand against the tree. Light shot from the roots and up into the branches, the leaves twinkling like starlight. 

“These flowers were her favorite. It was some of the first forms of biological life we learned about.” Nai’s hand dropped, his fingers twitching. Your hands tugged at the bottom of your top, your gaze darting from him to the tree. It was beautiful, truly but nothing he was saying helped complete your puzzle. 

“You have questions.” he said

Questions were an understatement.

“What are you, Nai?” You ripped the bandaid off, cutting straight into the wound that had caused you both pain. 

“A plant.” 

There was a pause.

“...a plant?” You said. You vaguely remember reading into a few of the plant practices in the texts Meryl had given you and you remembered your conversation with Conrad about Nai’s research but, to your knowledge, there had been no information that plants were sentient. Let alone humanoid.

“My brother and I are what humans call Independents. We are born of plants but live of our own accord. Our own thoughts, beliefs,” he paused as his eyes roved over you intimately, “actions. We do as we wish.” You immediately thought of the weapons, the speed in which Nai moved. It all made sense. 

“Tell me everything.” You said. Tone gentle but unwavering. If he wanted to remedy this he would. 

And he did. 

So, you listened, and he spoke until the sun set along the horizon and stars danced across the sky. 

“You want me to do what?” You asked, looking down at the dark haired girl. She rocked on her toes giddily, Wolfwood stood behind her uninterested. 

“I want you to-” 

“She wants you to come watch the guys fight because she thinks it's hot.” 

“Wolfwood!” Meryl shrieked, raising her fist at him. Her cheeks tinged pink; she turned to you, “Vash and Knives like to spar sometimes, they let us watch occasionally, I thought you’d like to join.” Your conversation with Nai had left you emotional. He had told you everything, from the ship, to his time alone, to his fight with his brother and while you held it together when you spoke, wanting to show him that you cared, you broke down when you made it back to your room. 

What a lonely life they had both lived. 

“I'd like to,” you said. You would be lying if you said you didn't want to know more about what they could do.

“Yes!” Meryl grabbed your hand, “Come on!” 

“Now?” you cried. She didn’t even give you time to gather yourself. 

“Yes, now!” She dragged you past Wolfwood who saluted you with a laugh. “I’ll catch up to you girls later.” He said.

You were dizzy by the time you arrived at the cavernous training space. The room looked like all the others but was empty, save for an electrical panel on one wall and a stack of crates along the other. Vash and Nai stood in the center of the room, a red dot and white star bright against the tiled floor. When Vash noticed Meryl he smiled, waving with a large grin. Nai turned too acknowledge the focus of his brother's affections but froze at the site of you. He turned towards Vash, the movement sharp and jerky, who startled as he whispered harshly to him. Vash looked between you and Meryl as she guided you towards the spare crates. He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, whispering something back. Despite the emptiness of the room their voices did not echo.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You asked. Nai’s posture had stiffened and there was a tense air around him and was his coat lighting up?

Meryl waved her hand nonchalantly. “Yes, yes. It’s fine.” She jumped up on the crates, her small legs swinging as she regarded Vash with heart's in her eyes. You leaned against them, suddenly too anxious to sit. 

Vash left his brother’s side and jogged towards Meryl. He casually shrugged off his coat revealing a slim figure and black turtle neck beneath. He dropped it in Meryl’s lap and winked. “Hold onto this for me?” Meryl rolled her eyes but accepted the coat. Balling it in her lap and leaning against it. 

“I leave for 10 minutes and he’s already stripping?” 

Meryl stuck her tongue out, “You’re just jealous.” 

“Sure am, sweetheart.” He moved to stand beside her, shooting you a sly smile, “You ready to watch the show-” Wolfwood's word's fell from his lips, brow raising, his gaze moving a centimeter to the left. 

Nai stood beside you, his eyes intense. Without a word he slipped his cloak from his shoulders and laid it across yours. You swayed at the gesture, hands instinctively grasping the edges of the fabric to pull it tighter and secure it to your frame. Wolfwood let out a low whistle and you could hear Meryl giggling.

Nai joined his brother as silently as he had descended upon you. Your face was aflame and by the way Vash smiled at his twin, nudging him teasingly, you knew holding on to this was much more than a favor. 

“Someone really loves you,” Wolfwood said casually, lighting his 2nd cigarette. Meryl’s smile only widened. Your blush deepened.

The twins separated, standing a few yards away from one another on opposite sides of the room. “Rules?” Vash called, pulling a peculiarly shaped gun from the holster on his leg. He flicked the barrel open, counted the bullets, and closed it. Nai rolled his neck and, in a fashion that showed he was well versed in combat, positioned himself offensively. "The usual then." Vash hummed as he shook out his shoulders, he rose the gun and fired.

There was zing and metal shot from Nai's shoulders. You jumped but Meryl’s hand on your shoulder kept you grounded, you gave her a nervous smile and she returned it. “If it’s to much we can leave.” 

You swallowed, “No, I want to stay.” You could do this. Those weapons weren't meant for you.

There was a clash of metal against metal. The sound reverberated in the room, jumping from wall to wall before drowning in another crashing impact as the twins dueled. 

It was loud and chaotic. Vash sent a shot, Nai dodged it perfectly. Nai snapped at Vash’s heels, Vash rolled out of the way just as they struck. It was a back and forth that fell into a gracefulness that looked surreal. Vash did not leave the ground once but he managed to keep Nai busy despite his hovering advantage and their ability to move like that looked so effortless you wondered if you could do the same.

There was a sudden shot, one that sounded like an explosion, then a loud crash and the room was abruptly doused in darkness. 

“What the hell Vash!” Wolfwood yelled. You blinked eyes adjusting to the suffocating darkness of the room. Wolfwood's cigarette was the only light. 

“My bad!” Vash yelled. You didn’t know where he was yelling from, for a second it sounded like he was right next to you but then it bounced to a few feet away. You gripped Nai’s cloak, feeling uncomfortable in the shadows. 

“Everyone okay?” Meryl asked. “What happened?” 

“Yeah! I think I hit the power unit, it was right beside Nai and the bullet must of bounced or something.” Vash said, you could hear the clicking of his weapon and the slide of metal against leather as he put it away. “I’ll go look at it.” Everyone waited patiently, Vash's shuffling an indication that he was on the move.

“I can’t find it!” He cried seconds later. 

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” You heard Meryl mumble. She jumped down from the crates and with a quick ‘you’re guiding me over there’ to Wolfwood the couple dove into the darkness to find the third in their little trio. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Shit,” You whispered. Nai stood directly in front of you, “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said. Your voice had a slight shake to it but nothing that a few seconds of steady breathing couldn’t fix. You reached out, trying to feel for the blonde, and when your hands brushed against his forearm you felt a mild sense of relief. The room didn’t feel as suffocating. Your hand trailed up his arm before settling unceremoniously on his shoulders. He was sturdy and in this kind of darkness you welcomed it. 

“Can you see me?” You asked.

“Yes,” Nai said. 

“I can’t see you, or anything really. An independent skill?” You questioned. 

“Yes,” Nai said, he paused, and you felt him shift under you, “Would you like to see me?” He asked. Your brows rose, “I can?” 

You know now that Nai moved without prediction. With unknown reason and unknown explanation the blond worked as he wished and did as he wanted and as he moved your hand from his shoulder to his face you were given no guidance as to what to do with the gesture. 

Just as you opened your mouth to question him, hand pressed against the apple of his cheek, you gasped. You watched as a glow traveled from his collar to his neck, in the same way it crept up the tree in the garden, before sliding across his cheeks and flowing into his hair. His eyes brightened and you could clearly see every dip and groove of his face, the fluorescence of his figure haloing you both. It was like looking at the night sky. Just enough light to allow your gaze to focus on the stars but not enough to understand the universe’s beauty.

“Oh, wow.” You said, your hand thumb stroked his cheek, following the trail of the lights as both your hands slid down his chest and settled against the rise and fall of his breathing. The markings were pulsing like they were alive, with the rhythm of a heart beat. “This is amazing.” 

You were spellbound. 

Nai moved carefully and lifted his hands to cup the sides of your face. He didn’t seem like one to seek physical contact but by the way he held your face in his hands if felt like he craved it.

His eyes searched yours and yours his as the two of you tried to decipher the feeling you were mutually growing comfortable with. Your hands slid from his chest to his shoulders again but this time your fingers pressed into them. A silent answer. A gentle demand. 

You had to stand on your toes to reach him for him, the few inches of difference between you significantly impacting your advancement. Nai was courteous enough to lean down, with the mingling of breath and the brush of fabric the two of you-

“Got it!” Vash yelled in triumph. The lights burst to life as the room was practically flash bombed. 

“God, a warning next time!” Wolfwood cried. 

“What are you guys doing?” Vash suddenly asked. Who? You?

You froze, the lights left like a spot light and as quickly as you two had come together you had separated. You pushed Nai and in your quickness caused him to stumble as you stepped back. Nai’s light faded and the glow of his body dimmed as the light’s above settled across his skin. 

You looked between Vash and Nai and then at Meryl and Wolfwood and from the looks of it the woman knew what had conspired while their backs were turned. Hell, she may have even seen it with how her eyes glittered. 

You pressed your fingers against your lips. You could feel the ghost of Nais’s hovering over yours. Your face warmed and you swiftly removed the coat from your shoulders, shoving it into a mildly stunned Nai’s hands. 

“Thank you,” you said quickly, voice tight and high. You ducked your head and scurried out of the room, face aflame and palms sweaty. You ignored Meryl’s calls, knowing that if you looked back now and saw Nai standing there. Glowing, sweating and oh so pretty your almost kiss would actually be one. 

With only the whisper of the pipes as your after company you silently padded down the hallway. You had spent the entire night tossing and turning again; forcing an earlier rise as a result of the events from yesterday. Watching Nai and Vash's spar had been invigorating. It had left you speechless but not nearly as speechless as your near kiss with Nai. He looked so handsome like that, his features hypnotizing. You struggled to erase the thoughts of his hands against your waist, his chest pressed against yours. It was all so...nice.

You slapped your palms against your cheeks, using the cold of your skin against your warming cheeks to pull your self back into reality. You held them there, savoring their coolness, and sighed. You had almost kissed Millions Knives and while that should have been the scariest part about the whole ordeal, it was nothing compared to the fact that you looked like he was going to return it. 

You hoped at least. 

No, you didn’t hope, you didn’t want to. 

But oh how you did. You sputtered, sucking your teeth and pinching your cheeks, “I am an idiot.” You whispered to yourself. Your feelings for Nai had not dwindled. They had only grown, expanded, branched off into a desire that was more than platonic, more than romantic, and you knew you were screwed. 

You groaned. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. No, this was not right. He did something terrible, horrible, immeasurable in terms of crime. 

But he had done it out of protection, affection. Like a cat who knew no better than to bring a dead mouse to its owner as a sign of care and you were starting to find the idea of it sweet. How, disturbing. 

You shook your head, chasing away unwanted thoughts and continued on your trek. You had nowhere in particular you wanted to go. Vash and Wolfwood had gone into the city, Meryl had disappeared with the truck, which left you to your lonesome. Nai, well, you honestly had no idea where Nai was. You had stopped trying to avoid him but you weren’t necessarily trying to seek him out either. And while he had given you access to the greenhouse you feared if you run into him there, there would be no going back and you would do something you’d regret.

Like try and kiss him again. You let out an exasperated groan, throwing your head back in shame. You knew it was dramatic but you had no other way of expressing it. With a few words of confidence muttered unconfidently, looking rather deranged in such an abandoned hallway, you steel your posture, straightened your stride and moved to march nowhere. 

A melodic rhythm broke your solo parade and you fell silent as you strained to listen. The piano. Your mind flashed to the moment you stumbled into Nai’s music room the first time. Still fearful, you had scurried away before you could even process what was happening. But this time, hearing the music pulled a curiosity out of you that you chose not to ignore. 

You followed the tune, vaguely remembering the path, and soon found yourself standing toe-to-toe with the intimidating door it was hiding behind. You pushed at it gently surprised it did not squeal or groan under the weight of itself and slipped inside. You gently nudged it shut as you took tentative steps towards Nai’s figure. He focused entirely on the keys. He pushed and pulled along the piano, his body swaying rhythmically with each rise and fall of the notes. 

At the sound of the door clicking shut, a noise that made you wince, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. Your eyes connected with his and all you could do was give him a pathetic wave. 

“Um…hi.” You said. 

“Hello.” He replied. 

You bounced on your heels, clasping your hands behind your back as you looked everywhere but at him. 

“Do you need something?” he asked. His tone was just off enough that it made you flounder. “Um, no,” you stuttered. “I’ll um…I’ll just go. I have the wrong room.” You turned on your heel and pressed towards the door, cursing your stupidity. 

You felt cool metal slide around your waist. Nai’s weapon squeezing gently, tugged you backwards. There was no sensation of fear at the gesture and you let him guide you. You stumbled and righted yourself, facing forward and saving the awkward shuffle.

“Sit,” he said. He pushed you towards the bench, sliding down and giving you enough room to squeeze in next to him. As you settled, hands still held awkwardly in the air, Nai shrugged his cloak from his shoulders, letting the fabric cascade along the back of the bench. 

Without as so much as a glance in your direction the man spread his fingers across the keys and began to play. The music was melancholic. Soft and sweetly bitter with a mild touch of anguish. You watched in silence. There was no need for words as he stroked each key with a gracefulness you only wished you had. When the music tapered, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“I guess you do know a thing or two about pianos,” you remember his sour face when you had played the jazz in your shop and while it had all chalked up to personal preference in the end Nai did have a right to critique given his abilities. You reached for the keys, playing a basic scale with a giddy smile on your face. You had never seen a piano in person, like most hobbies they were expensive and rare to create, the resources to make them diverted to more practical things. 

Nai stood but you were so lost in your own childish amusements you didn't noticed. You shuffled to the center of the bench, placed both hands on the keys and pressed gingerly. Contrasting chords echoed back at you but you were not adverse to the sound. In confidence you continued to play, creating melody of no coherence.

You felt warmth spread across your back and while your fingers stumbled you didn’t stop moving. Nai pressed into you as he peered over your shoulder. Your breath hitched but you continued playing. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. Nai’s arms wrapped snaked down your shoulders, fingers tracing your forearms, his hands falling over yours; silencing the music. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, your face warming, “I am not very good.” 

Nai hummed, the vibration traveling up your back. It took everything in you not to squirm. “It’s alright.” He said, his voice deep. Low.  Lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, “I can teach you.” 

“Relax,” he said, your body leaned into his. “Put your hands on top of mine.” You carefully slid your hands from beneath his, worried that if you moved too quickly you would run him off. Once settled he pressed closer, your bodies flush, and he played. You did none of the work. His hands were huge compared to yours, his fingers long and lithe, dangerous and delicate. He talked you through every key, every note, every sound. You registered none of it. Your heart was too loud. 

“Are you listening?” he asked playfully. 

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. You were not. You had no idea how long he had been instructing you. 5 minutes? 10? An hour?

“What notes are these?” He asked, playing a sequence of three. Shit.

“A, F..and E?” you said. 

“Lucky guess.” He said. He turned his head slightly and his lips brushed your ear pressing them against the junction just below it, a ghost of a kiss. You gasped.

“Nai, wait.” He paused, pulling away. Your hands fell as he stood to his full height, his hands sliding up your arms and hesitantly moving away from you. In your nervousness, you grasped his wrist and turned, looking up at him. His brows furrowed. 

“Do you fear me?” he asked. Eyes searching yours. 

“No,” your answer was immediate. Truthful. “No, I don’t.” 

“I am still-” 

“I love you.” Your eyes widened at your own confession, “Well, I mean- I like you? A lot, and the head thing is still very unnerving but I can’t help-”

The keys squealed as you were pushed into them, Nai’s lips crashing onto yours. His arms trapping you against the piano. Your hands flew to his shoulders, the sensation of falling startling you more than the actual kiss. It only took you a few seconds to register that. You struggled to keep your balance, the bench pressed into the back of your knees awkwardly, the piano hitting your hips. 

Nai seemed to notice and, without separating your lips, his hands found purchase under your arms and pulled you to your feet. In the shuffle away from the piano he pressed you closer, cupping your cheeks in his palms and titling your head back to deep the kiss. Your arms were trapped between you, palms pressed against his chest. A whine escaped you at the intensity, your fingers curling against the fabric of his suit. 

You were the first to pull away, breathless. Nai chased after you, lips a hairs away from yours. 

You smiled as he kissed you again, “Nai,” and again, “N-Nai- Wait,” and again. You laughed, “Nai! Let me breathe!” your heart was racing and if he kissed you anymore you feared you would pass out. 

His eyes searched for yours and you smiled. Grin achingly wide. You unlocked your arms and wrapped them around his shoulders, while you needed to breathe you didn’t need to pull away. One hand immediately moved to the base of his neck, thumbing the short hair there. Nai’s eyes fluttered and you hummed. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. He tilted his head, pressing into your touch. You weren't sure if he was actually listening but you continued anyways. “For the book. The binding is beautiful.” 

You watched as a light bulb clicked on and he flushed. So, the make out session didn’t embarrass him but the book did? 

“We are,” Nai racked his brain for the term, “partners now? Right?” His tone was eager but uncertain. 

“Did you learn that from your books?” You smiled not waiting for his response, “yes, Nai, we are partners.” You hands toyed with his hair. He smiled at that. A genuine one. Not a curled lip or snort of amusement. A true smile. You giggled and beamed back, your hands moving to his cheeks and guiding his lips back to yours-

The door suddenly swung upon, it's hinges squealing at the force. Nai's was moving before you get register the sound. He pushed your head into the crook of his neck. You felt the air rush around you as his weapons sprung to life.

“It’s us!” Vash’s voice echoed and you struggled to pull away Nai's protective grip unrelenting. You peered over his shoulder and was greeted, once again, by Vash and his lovers. Laid out on the floor like the idiots they were. 

“Who won the bet?” you called, expecting them to deny the question. 

“I did!” Meryl yelled with confidence. 

Nai frowned but didn’t attack. You laughed and Meryl’s face dropped when she realized it was you that asked the question. 

“Get out.” Nai said. 

Meryl, at the top of the pyramid, struggled to stand. Tripping over legs and coats. Nai grew impatience so, with dulled blades, shoved the group out of the door. There bodies sliding against the tile comedically. The door slammed shut behind them.

Your smile only widened, Nai’s glare was deadly. You turned his face to yours, his skin warm and smooth, "They didn't mean anything by it." Honestly it was quite hilarious that they even had a pool going. You wondered if Dr. Conrad was in on it to. Not wanting Nai to dwell to much on his brother's antics you pulled him close. Hands finding purchase in his hair as your stood on your toes.

“Just kiss me again, Nai.” 

And he did.