Neither of the boys returned on their own, but Kakei had been expecting that. He had not liked it, had done all he could to prevent it, but in the end, there had been very little he could do to dissuade them. Saiga knew where to go to find Rikuo, to bring the boy home, and when he came he was still clutching the comb that he had left with. He looked monstrous; brow furrowed, eyes red. On any other day, Kakei might have told him so.
"She took him," Rikuo choked, the green of his irises a vivid contrast to their bloodshot surroundings. "He just--"
And Kakei took the comb from him, and set it on the table. "Just like the wind," he agreed, and Rikuo crumbled.