Alex squints as the fluorescent lights above glare off the polished buckles of her boots stretched lazily in front of her. Hospital decor is still as bleak as she remembers—pale green walls, scuffed linoleum floors, and chairs that seem designed for maximum discomfort. The kind of place where hope felt like an afterthought.

  Strange, really. She wasn’t even here for a medical reason.

  She tilts her head, eyeing the waiting room. Not that she was one for bright colors, but the dull hues only seemed to amplify the misery of the people around her—wringing their hands, staring at the clock, waiting for news they could neither control nor prepare for. Maybe a softer color scheme would help. Something warm. Inviting. Not that it would fix anything, but still.

  A small smirk tugs at her lips when she spots him.

  Akio steps in, scanning the room, his eyes sharp and searching.

  “Doctor Jordan,” Alex calls, her voice light and teasing. She sprawls across the empty seats beside her, arms draped over the armrests lazily.

  His head snaps toward her voice, and the tension in his shoulders eases as he smiles.

  “I have to admit,” she muses, stretching, “it has a nice ring to it.”

  She pushes herself up just as he reaches her, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

  “Alex,” he breathes, the word slipping out on an exhale as she squeezes him closer.

  She pulls back slightly, just enough to study him. He looks different, yet the same—still clean-shaven, still put-together in a way that made her wonder if he ever allowed himself to be anything less. His maroon scrubs are neatly pressed, but the faintest shadows under his eyes betray long nights and little rest. Even his shoes—light, comfortable, but spotless—tell her he hasn’t changed much.

  Akio catches her assessing him and rolls his eyes. The reaction is automatic, a reflex at this point.

  “I’m so sorry I missed the anniversary,” he says, voice quieter now. “Chris must think I’m an ass.”

  Alex’s brows furrow slightly. “What are you talking about? He won’t shut up about how proud he is of you.”

  She straightens her shoulders, deepening her voice in an exaggerated impression of Chris. “‘Akio is a doctor. He went to Harvard. Alex won’t get off the couch.’”

  Akio lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. But the humor fades as the weight of Lilian’s absence settles between them.

  “How’s he holding up?” he asks, voice careful.

  Alex exhales, waving a vague hand. “Ah, you know Chris. He’s dealing with things in his usual way. I spend most of my time trying to keep up.”

  Akio hums, thoughtful. His gaze flickers with something distant before she nudges him out of it.

  “Oh—by the way, he’s un-retired again.”

  Akio groans. “After that party?”

  “After the bloody party.”

  “God, I feel sorry for everyone at the office already.”

  “I tried to stop him,” Alex admits, tucking her hands into her pockets. “Then I thought… maybe he needs the distraction?”

  Akio rubs his jaw, considering. “Yeah. That might actually help.”

  “And give me some much needed peace.” Alex adds.

  Akio raises an eyebrow. “What exactly do you do all day?”

  She gasps, clutching her chest in mock offense. “I have lived a long and excruciatingly taxing life, thank you very much. I have earned every second of lazing about. You and Chris need to back the hell up.”

  Akio crosses his arms, unimpressed. “The Alex I knew relished the rush of life. Even Chris just upended his retirement out of sheer boredom.”

  That might have worked on a younger Alex. But this Alex? She smirks.

  “That Alex is gone. This Alex plays board games and yells at Shark Tank contestants with Chris.”

  Akio winces. “He watches Shark Tank? That’s horrifying.”

  “I tried asking him about his well-being once,” Alex recalls. “He deflected with an overly comedic Zen quote. And shoved me.”

  Akio cackles, never one to miss a chance to enjoy Alex's suffering. “Is that why you’re here? Need reinforcements?”

  “No, I can handle Chris.” She grabs him in a one-sided hug, wrenching him from his spot. “I came to see you, since you refused to come see us.” She gestures between them. “Mountain.” Points at herself. “Muhammad.” Points at him.

  Akio groans, pushing her off and immediately fixing his hair like the prima donna he swears he isn’t.

  “Okay, watch the hair.” He pats it unnecessarily, then adds—almost too casually—“I might as well tell you, I applied for a transfer to California.”

  Alex brightens. “Really?! That’s awesome! We can paint the town on weekends, the three of us, just like old times. When does the transfer kick in?”

  “I don’t know. Haven’t followed up yet. Try to remember, you’re talking to a Doctor here.”

  “Ohh, Doctor is stressed? We can fix that.” She smacks him on the back, sending him stumbling forward.

  “What time are you free tonight?”

  He groans. “Nooo.”

  “Come on. I’ll treat you to dinner, we’ll swap stories, you’ll check my brain, we’ll bowl a bit, and I’ll have you back here, bright and early.”

  She reaches up to massage his shoulders, but he’s taller, so she shoves him into an awkward crouch.

  “Alex, I have stuff to—” He stops mid-sentence, blinking rapidly. “Wait. What did you just say?”

  “Bright and early?”

  “No, before that.”

  “We bowl a bit?”

  His eyebrows knit together in slow anger.

  Alex squeezes his shoulders. “Say, do you realize your shoulders are tense?”

  Akio dislodges her hands, his expression hardening. “What happened to your head, Alex?”

  She exhales. “Chris insisted I get it checked. I had a thing last night—terrible migraine.”

  “And then what?”

  “I have no idea. Woke up this morning to Chris pounding on the front door. Four hours straight.”

  Akio stills. “You didn’t hear him?”

  “Nope. I was unconscious.”

  His hand clamps onto her wrist, dragging her toward the hall. She barely has time to protest before he shoves open a narrow door and pulls them inside.

  Alex wrinkles her nose, both at the manhandling and at the dank of the closet. “A janitor’s closet? Really?”

  Akio doesn’t even register her complaint. “You call that nothing serious?”

  “Oh, also,” she adds for some unknown reason, “I was bleeding from my eyes, nose, and ears.”

  Best to work with all the information, right?

  Akio stiffens, his face paling.

  “Why the hell didn’t you lead with that?!”

  Alex waves a dismissive hand. “Because now your face is all scrunched up and contorted with worry.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Better my face than your brain, dumbass!”

  She almost skulks. Almost.

  He exhales sharply, wearing his patented Disappointed Akio look. “I can’t exactly book you for an MRI, but… Give me fifteen minutes to wrap up here, then we’ll go to dinner.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Alex ducks to avoid his finger as he wags it at her.

  “This is for your head, not because I like you.”

  Alex scoffs. “Yes, thank you, Akio. I love you too.”

  Akio scoffs as well, although his lacks the adequate heat—smiling the second the closet door swings open, and Alex is behind him.

  Alex jolts upright with a sharp gasp, breath catching in her throat as the sleep rips away from her violently. The heavy wooden door to her room slams open, striking the opposite wall with such force that it rebounds. Akio barely stops it from clipping him in the face, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

  “What,” she rasps, blinking rapidly, forcing her sleep-deprived brain into action.

  “There’s an angry mob outside,” Akio pants.

  Alex stares. Blinks again. Then throws off her blankets and stalks toward the door.

  “What?” she repeats, already making her way to the front entrance.

  She wrenches the door open, and there they stand—a crowd bristling with torches and pitchforks, their faces twisted with righteous fury. Angry voices churn in restless murmurs, rising to a fever pitch as she steps onto the porch.

  Alex drags a tired hand down her face, a bit too late to fix her presentation. “Can I help you?” she asks, her tone more annoyed than alarmed.

  A man forces his way to the front, shoving others aside with sharp elbows. Akio stiffens beside her. His former master.

  “This ain’t no house for runaways and wayward brats!” the man spits, eyes gleaming with malice.

  Alex exhales slowly. This again.

  “I thought it wise to rest before setting out on the journey to—” She stops, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Two seconds of sleep and untethered fury did not make for a patient Alex. “You know what? You’re right. This isn’t a correctional facility. I just couldn’t stand you whipping the boy like an animal.”

  The crowd erupts in muttered dissent, shifting uneasily. The man seizes the moment, turning to them with exaggerated outrage before swinging back to Alex.

  “I want him back.”

  “I paid for him.”

  The words taste bitter in her mouth, but buying Akio’s freedom, making it official like a business transaction, had been the only way.

  The man steps closer, and Alex rears back as the rancid stink of his breath rolls over her.

  “I don’t know what kind of deal you got with the governor that makes you think you’re untouchable,” he whispers, and she has a feeling her invulnerability was the only thing keeping the acidity of his breath from peeling her skin. “but I’d be careful how you talk in front of these good people.”

  Alex arches a brow. “I paid you more than the child was worth. Walk away before things get messy.” Her voice carries, ensuring the crowd hears every word.

  The man’s lips curl into something that might be a grin if not for the rotting teeth. He turns back to the mob, arms spread in theatrical outrage.

  “Y’all hear that? She says she’s gon’ kill me!”

  The tension thickens. Hands clench tighter around weapons. Murmurs turn to shouts.

  “Says she’s gon’ string me up by my own gizzards if we don’t leave!”

  The crowd surges with fury. Their resounding roars sealing the fact that she would not be getting out of this without bloodshed.

  Alex’s fingers twitch at her side. She counts the number of people she’d have to kill to smother this fire before it spread too far. She had hit her limit on the ‘plagues and incurable illness’ excuses as far as the Mayor was concerned.

  Speaking of killing…

  The man turns back to her, pistol flashing in his hand—

  A violet blast rips through the night. He flies backward, arms flailing, crashing hard onto the cobbled street.

  Silence.

  Alex blinks, her gaze trailing the lingering energy to Akio, who stands stiffly at the doorway, palm still raised.

  “Well, shit,” she exhales.

  The crowd collectively inhales.

  Then—

  “WITCHCRAFT!”

  The gunshot cracks through the air. Alex slams the door shut just as the bullet splinters wood.

  She and Akio drop to the floor as a second shot follows, then another. A volley of gunfire rattles the frame.

  “What the hell were you thinking?!” Alex shouts, hands over her ears.

  “He was going to shoot you!” Akio yells back.

  “So you use magic in front of a goddamn armed mob?!”

  The door shudders under the assault, and Alex takes a moment to thank the extravagant trader for buying them a few precious seconds, with his expensive door.

  “Get your shit, we’re leaving,” She orders.

  Akio glances stupidly around himself to Alex's immense disbelief, panicked expression in place. “I don’t have any shit!”

  The idiot. Honestly! “Then use the back door!”

  Akio bolts without argument.

  Alex takes a steadying breath and makes her own move. The door is failing. Splinters fly. The first wave of men force their way inside, torches raised high, flames licking at bookshelves.

  She really liked this house.

  ~~~

  Akio stops at a safe distance, bent over and gasping for air. He turns back in time to see flames swallowing the house whole.

  A whimper escapes him. Alex had loved that place. She had walked him through each room, pointing out every detail with genuine pride.

  His heart stutters. Where is she?

  “Devil spawn!”

  Akio barely turns in time.

  His former master stands there, gun aimed between Akio’s eyes.

  Akio freezes. His mind races. He could fight. He would fight. But he has to time it right—

  The hammer clicks into place. There is no monologue. No taunt. No warning. Just a bullet waiting to fire.

  Akio squeezes his eyes shut, he was going to die.

  A sickening snap causes him to flinch involuntarily. His eyes fly open.

  The man is crumpled on the ground, eyes glassy and head twisted at an unnatural angle.

  Alex stands over him, expression blank.

  Akio jerks forward, then hesitates, resisting the urge to throw himself at her in relief.

  “You’re not dead!” he practically yells, then slaps a hand over his mouth, realizing they were still in earshot of the mob.

  Alex exhales through her nose, barely sparing the burning house a glance. “Wish I could say the same for my home.”

  “I'm sorry.” He says. And she waves it away.

  “It's fine. Are you hurt?”

  Akio pats himself down in confirmation of all his body parts. “All good.” His gaze drops to the bag slung over her shoulder. “What's in the bag?”

  Alex’s grip tightens. “My shit.”

  “You risked your life for your shit?”

  She adjusts the strap with an elegant shrug. “Just the important shit.”

  She jerks her chin toward the outskirts of town. They start walking.

  Akio glances back. “What about him?”

  “I’d rather not stay and find out.”

  Akio swallows. Her voice was so casual. So dismissive. She spoke of the dead man like he was nothing more than a discarded coat.

  He has killed before—once, in self-defense. He hadn’t been able to eat for a month afterward. For Alex, she seemed to be taking it in with an air of someone who did this on routine.

  He curses his bad luck.

  “Listen, if you ever have something to say, please say it. The constant squirming is very infuriating,” Alex says without looking at him.

  Akio jumps.

  After a beat, he hesitantly explains his habit of not speaking unless spoken to. How it had been beaten into him. How silence had been his safest option for years.

  Alex’s steps falter. Her gaze snaps to him, expression unreadable.

  “I don’t own you,” she says suddenly. “If you think back a couple hours ago, I asked you to leave.” She glances at the dead man a good distance behind them, her free hand clenching.

  “And I said I had nowhere to go.” Akio responds.

  “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten,” she says, shooting him a pointed look.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” she says after a pause, Firm voice interrupting the sounds of their footfalls on the stoned street. “Even if you decide you no longer feel the need to constantly bother me.”

  Akio relaxes. The tension he hadn’t realized he was holding slips from his shoulders.

  Alex meets his gaze, waiting.

  He nods.

  After a moment, he clears his throat. “So where exactly are we going?”

  Alex sighs deeply. “Just walk, Akio.”

  A bowling ball lands on the polished wooden floor with a dull thud, rolling off-center before teetering dramatically into the gutter at the last moment. Alex groans, her frustration punctuated by an exaggerated stomp as she marches back to grab another ball.

  Akio lounges nearby, legs crossed, sneakers propped carelessly on the table. His chair tilts at a dangerous slant as he laughs, full and unrestrained. Alex eyes the chair leg, half-considering hurling a ball at it to see if fate favors her tonight.

  “What exactly are you doing?” he asks between chuckles, wiping away invisible tears.

  “What does it look like? I’m bowling.” Alex frowns in concentration, narrowing one eye, tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth as she calculates the perfect angle.

  Akio surveys her stance and cackles all over again. “Let me rephrase the question—what do you think you’re doing?”

  She swings the arm holding the ball back and forth to build momentum. “Screw you, Akio.”

  She releases. It bounces—once, twice—before veering straight into the gutter again.

  Alex frowns. “I'm convinced these balls are cursed.”

  “More wrist, less head.” Akio smirks, arms crossed. And she bets he thought he sounded like Sun Tzu with that stupid hint.

  “I add any more wrist, and the balls will be tearing through the floor.” She glares at the lane like it personally betrayed her.

  Akio saunters over, plucking a ball from the stack with casual ease. “It’s not rocket science, Alex.” He spins the ball effortlessly on his fingertip before launching it down the lane. It glides smoothly, scattering every last pin. “You simply aim and toss.”

  Alex grumbles suspiciously. “Okay, you cheated. I just need to figure out how.”

  “You can’t cheat at bowling.” He turns to her, brow furrowing. “And what are you wearing? Those aren’t even bowling shoes.”

  “Like I’d put my feet in those disgusting rentals.” She scoffs, grabbing another ball.

  “And you wonder why you can't play.” He watches her stretch—unnecessarily, in his opinion. “Remind me again why you suggested this?”

  “I can so bowl. It’s just this place—the floor isn’t level.” She waves a hand at the inanimate lanes, eyes narrowing.

  “Remember when you tried teaching me to shoot a gun?” Akio asks, eyes clouding over in fond remembrance.

  “No.” Alex answers, the slight twitch in her right eye giving away the fact that she did remember. Akio smiles.

  “Wonderful, I'll remind you. You made me stand outside by myself, for 7 hours. You wouldn't let me eat, till a bullet hit one of those wretched bottles.”

  “No, I don’t recall.” She feigns innocence. “Such angst at something that took place centuries ago. You need to get rid of all that, and make space in your heart for love.”

  She says sweetly and tosses yet another ball. This one somehow, against all laws of physics, it veering in the opposite direction.

  Alex and Akio wince in tandem at loud crash that echoes from behind them, followed by scattered shouts.

  “Oh, crap—”

  “Sorry!”

  A furious attendant stomps over, thrusting the ball into her stomach with an expression of pure exhaustion before storming off.

  “Really sorry.” Alex says.

  Akio howls with laughter. “It is truly hilarious how bad you are at this. At least I hit a bottle.”

  “No, you shot me in the head, and I died. What's worse is, in spite of all that, you still don't know how to aim a gun.” She shoves the ball at his stomach, grinning when he doubles over with a wheeze.

  “Aha!” He wheezes, before devolving into a coughing fit. “I thought you didn't remember?”

  “I don't think anyone could forget a gunshot to the head.” She responds drily, before stomping away to grab a fresh ball from the pile.“

  Akio shakes his head, recovering, and sets the ball back with the others. He watches her from the corner of his eye, growing quiet. “You told me something that day.”

  Alex pauses mid-swing, intrigued. “Oh? Was it something profoundly intelligent?”

  “You told me to let go of whatever was twisted up inside me.” His voice softens. “At the time I was sulking with thoughts of my mother.”

  Alex pauses mid swing to preen at Akio's statement.

  “That is some Mr. Miyagi shit, I said that?” She asks, visibly pleased.

  “There was no Karate Kid back then.”

  She grins. “Jesus, I was smart.”

  Akio sighs in deep resignation. How extremely in character for Alex to retain the unimportant bits in a given piece of information. “Just toss the damn ball. Remember, first clear your mind, then toss.”

  “I should conk you over the head with this damn thing.” She jiggles the ball. “Repay the favor.”

  “Will you let it go, it was an accident!”

  “I know, which is why I'll 'accidentally' conk you in payback too.” She takes a deep breath and throws another ball.

  It rolls perfectly—for three glorious seconds—before slipping into the gutter again.

  Alex stares, horrified.

  “Witchcraft,” she announces, drawing the angry attention of all the other patrons present.

  “Okay what the actual hell? That ball should have knocked down 2 pins at least.” Akio inches a cautious foot forward, swiping it suspiciously across the lane.

  “I told you the balls knew what they were doing!” She whispers conspiratorially, waving a crazed hand at the untouched pins ahead of them. Akio is inclined to agree.

  “No, no, I agree, that was sus as hell.”

  “I have no idea what that means, but all this bowling has worked up my appetite.” She stretches her arms above her head in her shuffle to their table.

  “That's it? You didn't even bowl jack shit.” Akio says, dropping into his seat.

  Alex frowns, feet propping on the table in mirror of his earlier pose. “Mind your language. And I swung, okay? Swinging takes energy.”

  “I can't believe you dragged me all the way out here to watch you feed the gutter.”

  “Like you didn't have any fun.”

  “I might have, if we didn't have other pressing matters?” Akio raises a questioning brow, the tail end of his statement produced from behind clenched teeth.

  The action seems to annoy the hell out of Alex.

  “Akio, when was the last time you let yourself have fun?” She throws her arms up. “Work, work, work; worry, worry, worry.”

  He rears up in attention. “We’re talking about your brain, Alex—your health?!”

  She waves him off. “I’m not dying today or anytime soon. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of chances and I waved them all goodbye.”

  Akio rubs his temples, visibly exhausted. “Just let me check you over. It won’t take long.”

  I’m starving.” Alex stretches, rolling her shoulders. “Where can one get a decent meal in New Jersey?”

  Akio rakes a frustrated hand over his face, clearly understanding her ploy. “You’re going to keep ignoring me until you get what you want, aren’t you?”

  “New York pizza—do we have to go to New York for it, or is there, like, a black market here in Jersey?”

  Akio sighs. “After eating, I get to examine you?”

  She straightens immediately. “Done.”

  He pushes back from the table and grabs his coat. “Good, I know just the place.”