AUTHOR
The room is warm and dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Nemu is curled under the silk sheets, her eyes half-closed, a contented smile on her face as she watches Tokito.
He sits up on the edge of the bed, the sheets pooled around his waist, revealing a torso mapped with old scars and taut muscle. The easy-going charm is gone from his face, replaced by a grim focus.
One of his hands is under the covers, resting on Nemu's bare leg, a comforting, absent-minded gesture. The other holds his phone to his ear. It rings twice before a voice, dry and rasping as old leaves, answers.
"Ishinose. You have news?" Kirishima Honda's voice is devoid of greeting.
Tokito takes a deliberate, shaky breath, layering his voice with a convincing tremor of stress. "Hai, Honda-sama. I have it. The information you wanted."
He can feel Nemu stir behind him. Her hand slides from under the covers and wraps around his bare waist, her chin resting on his shoulder blade.
