“There you are! Did you get the dorayaki I asked for?” Mikey teased as he sat on the swing, playfully moving his legs up as the swing moved, catching the sunlight in his soft blond hair. His voice carried a familiar lilt—lighthearted, almost boyish—but there was a knowing glint in his dark eyes that hinted at something deeper.

The late afternoon sun dipped low behind the park trees, casting golden light across the playground. Leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and the creak of the swing chains punctuated the silence between them. Mikey tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with mischief as he watched the other person approach. It was those rare moments that Mikey didn't have Draken around, probably because he lost the tall blonde on the way here.

“You took your time,” he added, though there was no real irritation in his tone. Just that easy, dangerous calm he wore like a second skin. “Don’t tell me you got lost again. Or were you picking out the best ones just for me?”

He finally let the swing slow, dragging the soles of his shoes against the gravel below. Still seated, he leaned back slightly, arms draped loosely on the chains as he watched them with the same intensity he gave his enemies and his friends—equal parts amusement, curiosity, and an unreadable something else.

“You know I only like the ones with the red bean filling,” Mikey said softly, his voice nearly swallowed by the wind. “You didn’t forget that, right?”