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1.
FRIDAY
Thankfully, the first words out of Hibiki Tachibana's mouth, as she stands at the door of the new apartment she and Miku Kohinata live in, are not "Can we keep it".
Had they been "Can we keep it", Miku would most likely have turned around and gone to bed.
But the first words out of her mouth are "I need a towel."
The "it" in question is the trembling ball of white, damp, vaguely dog-shaped fur in Hibiki's arms; the damp most likely due to the violent downpour that's come on and off since the whole thing with the moon and the apocalypse dragon happened - turns out the near end of the world plays hell with weather patterns.
But Hibiki didn't ask if they could keep it. So Miku sighs and runs to the closet to fetch some towels, feeling a crisis at hand.
She knows Hibiki likes to help. People. Animals. Sometimes both at the same time. It's one of the things she loves about her.
But for the longest time she's worried that Hibiki's helpful streak could one day have consequences other than adding one more good deed done to the world's net acts of kindness.
And now it has. Now Hibiki has gone and brought something home with her.
Miku is not one to ask questions, ordinarily. She doesn't like to pry. But this is a situation for prying.
As she watches Hibiki set the ball of fur down and wrap it in a towel (knowing that the towel won't stop the water from ruining the floor), then get to work on her own terminally soaked hair (and clothes, and everything), Miku gets on her hands and knees to get a closer look at the dog. It's trembling more from cold than fear, and it regards her with one wary eye as it gets comfy.
"Where did you find him?" Miku asks.
"I'm not really sure," Hibiki says. Miku winces as Hibiki wrings the towel out onto the welcome mat then goes back to trying to dry herself. It won't do any good. Hibiki and the towel have reached a kind of moist equilibrium.
"What do you mean you're not sure?"
Hibiki smiles gratefully as Miku hands her another towel, likely going to do as much good as the first one. "It was cold and dark and wet. I heard something. It sounded scared. I followed the sound and I found, well..."
"And then?"
"I got lost," she laughs sheepishly.
Miku sighs. She realizes she's probably going to be doing a lot of that before the week is over. "I'm glad you made it back okay-"
"Me too," Hibiki says. "Cold, dark, and wet."
"- but what are we going to do with him?"
There is a collar hanging loosely around the fuzzball's neck. Miku reaches for it tentatively - then pulls her hand back as the dog bares its teeth in a warning snarl.
She sits in silence for a moment, then reaches again- snapping her hand back just as fast as that low rumble, deeper and louder than it should be out of such a small animal, rolls out.
"I don't think he likes me," she says. "Could you-"
"I already did," Hibiki says quietly. "It's the first thing I checked. The address on the collar..."
Miku looks up at her. "It's in one of the parts of the city that were flattened, isn't it," she says, already knowing the answer.
Hibiki nods, one hand absentmindedly reaching out to scratch the dog behind the ears. It doesn't snap at her - if anything it almost coos. Except dogs don't coo.
Actually, do dogs coo?
Miku doesn't really know much about dogs, so cooing isn't completely out of the question.
"This one's just a puppy. And I think right now, we're all she's got," Hibiki says, now scratching it under the chin.
And now the question is in her eyes.
Hibiki and Miku have been together for a very long time, and together for a non-insignificant fraction of that time.
The subtle plays and tics on a person's face, the expression in their eyes, they become incredibly legible when it's someone you care about.
And the question in her eyes is not 'can we keep it'. It's 'can it stay for a while'.
There's a world of difference. One is possession. The other is protection.
Miku looks at Hibiki, hands folded in her lap. Her Hibiki has grown so much over the last year.
"We'll have to find a foster home as soon as possible," Miku says in response to Hibiki's unasked question. "We could probably put an ad out. Maybe his-"
"-her"
"-her owners are okay."
Hibiki grins and takes her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Miku," she says, in that moment looking as beautiful as the dawn. And smelling like, well, a wet dog.
"Also," Miku says, "'her'?"
Hibiki flushes. "Second thing I checked," she murmurs.
Miku looks down at the pile of towels and fur on their living room floor, a blob of wet and white. It stares back with decidedly undoglike suspicion in its eyes - eyes, Miku notices, that aren't a shade she's seen on any animal. It'll be fine, she says to herself. Everything will be fine.
2.
SATURDAY, 1
Everything is not fine.
Miku realizes, a little too late, that there are several things that she has forgotten.
First, and most important, neither she nor Hibiki have any idea what to do with a dog. Miku herself has always been a cat person, so dogs are outside her sphere of interest. On any other day, this wouldn't be an issue. But on this one in particular - and probably at least the week to come - it's a huge problem.
She has her hands full enough with Hibiki, and Hibiki, at least, can take care of herself most of the time. The lump of white fur (which she has taken to calling "Wanwan" in her head, in default of an actual name) squatting in the middle of the living room and glaring at Miku with as much force as it can muster doesn't look like it could walk down the stairs without help, let alone feed itself.
And second, said huge problem is really more her problem, since it's the weekend, which means Hibiki is over at the Second Division's temporary headquarters for her usual training.
Third, she's almost certain that the puppy hates her.
Except for a few isolated incidents and a percussive encounter with Ryoko Sakurai that started with Miku tackling the mad doctor and ended with Miku facedown on the ground, she can't recall a time that another living being has shown her open hostility.
How could they? Miku is as inoffensive as they come.
But Wanwan hates her nonetheless. After she'd seen Hibiki to the door that morning, she'd turned around to find the puppy rearing back on its haunches with its hackles raised, looking for all the world like an oversized ball of cotton that someone had decided to grant both life and the capacity for evil.
She doesn't know why it hates her. She only knows that it does, vehemently.
But she also knows that keeping it alive is her responsibility now. Even if she is a little jealous that Hibiki had spent Friday night in the bottom bunk with the puppy nestled in next to her instead of with Miku like she usually did.
And technically it's also Hibiki's responsibility. But Hibiki isn't home right now.
Skirting around the edges of the living room - the dog watching her the whole time - she steps into the kitchen, fills a bowl with rice from the cooker, kept warm over the course of any day when she's home and Hibiki's not, in case she shows up hungry (which is almost always), and sets it on the floor in Wanwan's general area. As the bowl clinks on the floor, the puppy starts, its fur bristling. As soon as Miku steps away from the bowl it whirls, attacking with the ancestral fury of its lupine forebears.
The spirit is there, the flesh is entirely incapable. As Miku watches the puppy try to fit its mouth over the bowl's smooth side, kicking at it all the while, she reflects that the mind might not quite be there either.
Eventually, Wanwan discovers that the stuff inside the bowl, not the bowl itself, is what it's supposed to be interested in and starts to eat.
Maybe dogs don't usually eat rice.
Suddenly Miku finds herself wishing there were more in the pantry than packets of instant rice.
Not to mention the the sack of rice. And the rice dispenser. And the rice ball kits. Or-
Well, there are crackers. And hot chocolate.
But one of the things Miku does know about dogs - one of the few things she's picked up over the years - is that they can't have chocolate or they will literally die. And the crackers would probably be murder on the tiny thing's gums.
She sighs again, making her way gingerly towards the dinner table, where her laptop sits. Thankfully the dog is too occupied with its temporary new archenemy to take umbrage with her daring to move.
Google, at least, doesn't hate her. The minutes creep by as her history fills with such innocuous searches as "what do dogs eat" and "how to tell dog breeds apart" and of course, "can dogs feel hatred".
In spite of the possibly psychotic puppy in the living room, Miku finds herself almost having fun. There's just so much information on the internet, and reading it all would take forever, but studying has never been her weak point. In fact, she quite likes it.
But studying is distracting, and it's not long before she becomes intimately reacquainted with something she doesn't need to Google: Regardless of whether or not dogs can feel hatred, humans can feel pain.
With Miku's attention diverted, the puppy pads across the dining room floor, gives her ankle an investigative sniff, and quietly, decisively, nips.
The sudden pain causes her to jump in her seat, slamming her knees against the underside of the table with a bang, knocking her laptop away, and sending her attacker running for the kitchen, yapping like a crazy person.
Miku clamps a hand over her mouth, stifling a scream.
It's hard not to.
It turns out puppy bites feel like being pinched by someone who has also decided to tape needles to their fingers. Slightly blunted needles.
She gets to her feet unsteadily, spikes of pain shooting through her knees, and turns. Wanwan is squatting in the kitchen, fur bristling.
But Miku could almost swear that it's smiling. Somehow. She briefly considers adding one more item to her search history ("can dogs smile"), then decides against it. Decides against ever turning her back on Wanwan again, in fact.
Almost unconsciously mimicking the puppy, she squats too, rubbing her ankle. It's not bleeding, although it feels like it should be. She keeps her eyes locked on Wanwan's the whole time.
This is it, she thinks. This is my life now. I'm going to live in the dining room, she's going to live by the kitchen, and we're going to stay here forever. Or until one of us looks away.
Come home soon, Hibiki.
Almost as if in answer, the doorbell rings. And Miku wins the staring contest.
3.
SATURDAY, 2
At the sound of the doorbell, Wanwan leaps almost a foot into the air, barking that tiny puppy bark, then launches itself headfirst into the still-open pantry. There is an audible thump as it makes contact with what Miku thinks is the rice sack.
Her suspicions are confirmed when she hears the steady sound of rice tipping slowly out of its container. There's further scrabbling.
Miku is almost certain that the puppy is trying to hide in the rice. Unfortunately, since white rice isn't actually white until it's cooked - it's more yellowish, really - she's also almost certain that if she were to go looking she would find it instantly.
But there's no time for that. Someone is at the door, and it can't be Hibiki, because Hibiki would have just let herself in with her own key. Silently, she gives thanks for Wanwan's decision to scurry under cover. If it hates her enough to bite her, she doesn't even want to think what it might try with a complete stranger.
As she opens the door, she realizes that the word 'stranger' is completely accurate. As in, 'the day is about to get substantially stranger'.
Yumi Itaba stands at the threshold, bearing an expression of unreasonable excitement, even for her. Behind her, looking exactly as put out as usual, is Chris Yukine.
Yumi thrusts herself through the door as impressively as she can manage, notwithstanding the fact that of everyone Miku knows, she's probably the smallest (not the shortest, though - Chris still takes that spot).
"Well, where is she?" Yumi says.
"W-who?" Miku stammers. She's not quite over the shock of seeing them together.
Yes, they're both her precious friends, but there are circles. Yumi Itaba belongs to the 'ordinary things happening to ordinary people' circle, although she and Miku's other friends resorted to heroic measures during the last time the world almost ended. Chris, on the other hand, belongs to a different circle. One that involves blowing up monsters with magical weaponry. She can't recall ever actually seeing them interact, although she's certain they must have at some point over the last month or so.
Yumi, of course, doesn't notice her bewilderment. "I heard you and Hibiki adopted a dog-"
"I heard," says Chris, "You just followed me. Here."
"Well, I heard from you," says Yumi. "And I had to see her, of course. Where is she?"
"Hiding," Miku says, smiling wanly. "She doesn't like strangers." Especially me, she adds to herself.
Yumi pouts, but it doesn't last for long. A grin creeps across her face until it seems like her face is all grin. She steps toward Miku and plants her hands firmly on her shoulders, leaning in close.
"Y-Yumi?" Miku says.
"Of course," Yumi says, in a loud, conspiratorial whisper that everyone in the room can hear, "You know what this means, right?"
Behind her, Chris groans audibly, running a hand through her stark white hair. "She wouldn't shut up about this all the way here."
"About what?" Miku asks.
Yumi's grin somehow gets even wider. "This means you and Hibiki are basically married now. I'm so happy for you!"
"What are you-"
"Responsibility!" Yumi says. "It's the major step in a relationship. It's the part the anime doesn't show. What happens after the love story part is over? I'm excited! Also: where is the puppy."
Mutely, Miku points toward the kitchen, forgetting momentarily her fears of Wanwan's possible violent reaction to strangers. Yumi stalks off, humming to herself what sounds like the Detective Bang theme song. The kitchen is barely twenty feet away, of course, so Miku can hear her ooh-ing and aah-ing even from where she's standing.
"How is she doing that?" she says, almost to herself.
"What?" Chris asks.
"Yumi. She's actually managed to get close to her without, you know, getting bitten."
"Getting bitten? It bit you?" Miku isn't looking at Chris's face, but she can tell from the tone of her voice that she's concerned.
"Look," she says, pulling up one leg of her pyjamas. The spot where Wanwan nipped her is still red.
Chris gets down on one knee to take a closer look. "It's not that bad," she says. "It might have just been a play bite."
"I don't think she was playing," Miku says. "Every time she sees me she starts growling. Her fur stands up. I'm pretty sure she hates me."
"Dogs can't hate," Chris says. "Only people can hate."
"Yes, I googled that."
Chris smiles and stands, her knees audibly popping - a sound that serves as a pretty good indicator that Chris hasn't had any exercise in a while. Miku realizes that she's probably playing hooky from training, which would explain why she's in the apartment in the first place. "I think the problem is that it's scared. Terrified, actually. Think about it - imagine you're a really small child. You wake up in a weird place, with weird new people. What do you do?"
Miku sighs. "Cry, probably. And wait for my parents."
Chris nods. "That's one thing. Dogs can't really cry, though. So they bristle, and bite, and bark, and just turn into a real pain in the ass. It's how you know something's wrong."
"She's not that way with Hibiki, though," Miku says. "Hibiki carried her here all the way from - well, wherever she was found. She didn't get bitten once."
"Well, it probably feels safe with her." Chris blushes, and mutters something that sounds like 'everyone feels safe with her'.
Miku laughs. Hibiki tends to have that effect on everyone she meets.
"Maybe it likes her smell," Chris says. "Dogs use their noses way more than we do."
"So if I smelled like Hibiki-"
"Who knows?" Chris says, nodding sagely. "It might get used to you eventually if you did."
"How do I do that, though?"
"Do what?" Chris says, turning.
"Smell like her."
Suddenly, Yumi cuts in, popping over the kitchen counter. "Don't you always smell like Hibiki though? Because of, you know?"
"Yumi!" Miku gasps.
Chris freezes, face red with embarrassment by proxy. "I think I should go. We should go. We should all go. Except you. You stay. Solve this." She walks out the door, clapping her hands to her face.
Yumi laughs, blissfully unaware of the distress she's put Chris in. "That's right, I have homework. It's too bad I never got to see the puppy."
"You didn't?" says Miku. It would explain why Yumi didn't start shrieking from puppy nips the moment she set foot in the kitchen.
"I guess she's really well hidden. Also I heard you guys saying she bites? So I lost my nerve."
One more time, Miku sighs. "Go home, Yumi. Do your homework."
Yumi nods as she steps out. "Keep me updated!"
Miku shuts the door gently behind her and returns to the kitchen as silently as possible. Wanwan is immediately visible from Miku's view over the counter, still unsuccessfully trying to hide in the sack of rice. She's not actually sure how Yumi managed to not see the puppy.
Smell like Hibiki, she says to herself, drawing up a chair to commence the long watch. How do I do that?
4.
SATURDAY, 3
The jangling of keys slotting into a lock wakes Miku from her reverie. After a moment of grogginess, she realizes where she is - she'd fallen asleep on the kitchen counter.
There's no time for her to get rid of the tingling in her face, though. She spots Wanwan instantly - apparently, the puppy had fallen asleep too, after spreading rice all over the kitchen floor. If dogs can't feel hate, they probably can't feel spite either - but Miku feels as though there's a hint of spite in the action anyway. Most living things don't cause that much trouble getting to sleep. But the sound of Hibiki arriving could well be enough to wake it up.
Smell like Hibiki, Chris suggested. But how?
And as Hibiki steps through the door, she realizes that things very much do 'smell like Hibiki'. After training sessions, everything smells like Hibiki much more than usual.
And Miku realizes what she must do.
Hibiki steps into the foyer, grimy towel in hand. "I'm back," she says, that smile Miku loves so much planted firmly on her face. "How are my girls?"
Smile or not, Miku has grim business ahead of her. Wordlessly, she steps into Hibiki's path.
Miku sees Hibiki's smile falter. "Miku?" she asks. "What's wrong?"
"Hibiki. Take off your shirt. Now."
Miku accompanies the command by slipping out of her shirt in one smooth motion, folding it, and setting it on the kitchen counter.
"Uh, Miku?"
"Quick," Miku says.
Hibiki blushes. "Can't it wait until after I shower?"
"No," Miku says, sighing. "This is important."
"I wasn't gone that long," Hibiki mutters, struggling out of her shirt and closing her eyes. She spreads her arms wide. "Okay, Miku. Take me."
Miku doesn't.
When Hibiki opens her eyes, Miku is standing there, pulling Hibiki's shirt over her head. "Will it be enough?" she says to herself.
"Will what be enough?" Hibiki asks.
"No-" Miku says. "I have to make sure." She holds out one hand.
"Miku?"
"The towel, quick."
"But it's really gross, it smells like my sweat and-"
"I need it because it's gross."
"Okay," Hibiki says. "Okay."
Miku takes the towel and immediately begins rubbing herself with it - her face first, then her exposed arms.
"I'm ready," she says.
"For what," Hibiki asks. Miku looks at her, realizing that the night has probably gotten a lot stranger than Hibiki expected.
"There's no time to explain - let's go to Wanwan."
"Wanwan?" Hibiki says, grinning.
In spite of herself, Miku flushes. "It was the only name I could think of."
Hibiki in tow, she makes her way to the kitchen. The puppy regards her warily, just as it did the night before, but this time there's none of the bristling, the snarling, or the growling.
Its eyes almost seem to be saying - why are there two of you now?
Wanwan gets up, scattering rice as it goes. Miku kneels down, eyes on the puppy the whole time - just as before - and she reaches out with both hands.
Astoundingly, it lets itself be picked up. It even makes that odd cooing noise as Miku cradles it in her arms and scratches behind the ears. And she lets out the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding.
"Hey," Hibiki says. "She likes you now! I guess all I had to do was leave you two alone together for a whole day."
Miku turns to her, knees and ankle still twinging from earlier. She loves Hibiki, certainly, but there are times when she can be infuriatingly dense. "Yes, Hibiki. I'm sure that was it."
"I'm glad," Hibiki says, enfolding Miku - and the small, fragile thing in her arms - in a hug. "By the way, I asked Master to see if he could use the Second Division's resources to find her owners. He said yes, but he said it might take a while."
Miku nods, knowing what she will have to do on a daily basis just to keep the tenuous peace.
Maybe one day Wanwan will get used to Miku's own smell.
Maybe her owners will be found sooner, rather than later.
But until then...
"Hibiki?" Miku says quietly.
"Yes?"
"You can never wash this shirt."