Mark 11

 Living with Hizashi was easier than Elly expected. They got on well, though there were a few hiccups about eating times and preferred food, and one horrible spat when he tried to wake her up early. On the whole, though, things settled down in a couple weeks.

She was working at the store one afternoon when the door tinkled musically open and a customer walked in. Elly's ears snapped upright as she recognized their neighbor, the dark and scraggly-haired man that had run off the day of her move. Her eyes narrowed - she was certain he wasn't in to purchase music, of all things -- but then had to cater to another customer afer they asked about a type of music they were interested in. The scruffy man wandered over to the magazine racks, eyeing her suspiciously over the pages more than anything else. He stayed there so long that the other person left and she finally was able to confront him.

"Excuse me, <i>sir</i>," she called out, forced by the hours to at least try to be civil, "was there anything you needed help with?"

He jerked guiltily when she approached. "I, uh... no, not really."

Elly noticed Kayama watching them carefully from a corner of the cafe and relaxed a little. If he was here to cause any sort of trouble, her friend had her back.

"Maybe you'd be interested in a cup of coffee if you're going to be standing around for many more hours," she suggested dryly.

He actually nodded. "That might be a good idea. Are you too busy to join me right now?"

It was her turn to jump, startled. "Uh, me? No, we're not and I haven't had a break in awhile, I guess."

He ordered a simple black coffee and they sat down close by the edge so she could watch the shop.

"So, you probably know that I'm Yamada's neighbor."

"I know, and that makes you mine, too. But it doesn't explain anything," she huffed. "So, what? You came here to see if I'm a serial killer or something?"

He rubbed wearily at his eyes with a shaking hand. "Look," he murmured in a softer tone, "I needed to see you."

"What!" She shook her head, amazed. "You've been at me since I first met Hizashi! Telling him he was rushing into things and all that crap." Her lips drew down into a thin frown.

"It's ...complicated," he hedged, holding his cup in front of him like a shield. Elly realized he seemed afraid of her, as his hands were shaking and he was even paler than she remembered. "I didn't mean to imply you weren't meant for each other. And I ran that day for a good reason, as well. I'm not sure I want to tell why you even now."

"That's <i>exactly</i> what I'm going to ask!" She hissed, her tail swishing furiously behind her. "What the hell, there's obviously something wrong. You don't want Hizashi and I together -"

"No. That's not correct." He looked up and met her raging purple eyes with his gray ones. Whatever Elly had been about to say died on her lips when she saw the anguish in that tired, blood-flecked gaze. His Mark seemed to be a smudge, almost cloud-like in appearance, under both eyes. It was faded, and she knew what that meant. Hizashi had told her his soulmate died tragically young.

She continued in a less harsh tone, though her anger was not completely defused. "You better give me a good reason you came looking for me, or I'm calling the cops."

The man held out his left arm and slowly pushed back a tattered black sleeve. Amidst the dark hairs was something unheard of: another Mark. It was clear it was not a tattoo, because though it was faint and small, it was moving. A somber musical score in black and gray played out, yearning towards her own. It was also much darker than the fading ones under his eyes.

"No." Elly shook her head. "No, it's not possible." She pulled up her sleeve to prove it, and gasped when she saw hers was moving as well. It was not, however, matching the contemporary pop music playing in the background, but was rhythmically the same unknown beat as his.

"Let's try this again. My name is Aizawa Shota," he sighed. "It seems that we're each others' second soulmate."