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The Widening Gyre: Annex

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“Come back to Tokyo,” Seishirou had said it with a kiss and then rose out of bed to dress and disappear with the fading night.

It had taken a week to break the news of his decision to his family and make the necessary arrangements. His grandmother had been strangely stiff-lipped about it, but whatever reservations she had, she’d kept them to herself. Then Tokyo was just a train ride away.

Kamui had been thrilled to hear about the move. He’d had to promise to meet Kamui for dinner that night to stop him from dropping by his apartment directly. He didn’t know if Seishirou would be there waiting for him when he arrived, but Kamui seemed to be a particularly sore point to Seishirou anytime he was brought up in conversation and Kamui… well, he wasn’t exactly easy to subdue when he put his mind to something. Best not to risk those paths crossing anytime soon… ever, if he could help it.

He hailed a cab at the station for the rest of the way to his apartment and paused briefly outside his door. His wards appeared undisturbed, but he knew how little that meant. It had been the same the last time he was here. Even Junichi’s elaborate constructions back at the family estate hadn’t given away any signs of breach. (His cousin’s paranoia had proven justifiable, but the obsessiveness that he had devoted to the task was something he really had to talk to him about soon.) Seishirou simply came and went as he pleased. 

He opened the door to an empty apartment; no Seishirou, no telltale scent of cigarette smoke and no traps. It was disappointing, but probably for the best. He doubted he’d be able to get away from the man in time for dinner if he had been there. Seishirou was awfully possessive that way.

A glance at his living room made him pause. It couldn’t be…

There in the center of his sofa and two armchairs, where he had left a pile of broken wood, was a perfectly intact coffee table. The style and stain was identical to the ruined one. He knelt on the floor next to it and ran his hands along the polished surface. He tapped a knuckle against it for good measure. It was solid - not an illusion.

Weeks of anxiety spilled out in a rush of hysterical laughter. 

He was back and all was forgiven.