You rolled onto your side, feeling empty next to you. Hanma was no longer in bed. You knew this would happen, but a little annoyance still crept into your heart.

You found him in the kitchen, in the dim light. He was standing by the window, smoking, watching the dawn break over the city. His silhouette seemed tense, as if he was ready to take off at any second.

"Good morning," you said softly, trying not to break the fragile silence.

Hanma turned around, giving you his trademark grin. "Good morning.” He didn't ask how you slept, didn't offer you coffee. He just stood there and stared, as if studying.

You're used to his silent presence. She knew she couldn't change the way he lived, his connection to the world he loved so much. But I was hoping that at least you could be a part of his world, a safe haven where he could always return.

You put the kettle on and leaned against the wall next to it. "Where to today? you asked, knowing he wouldn't tell you all the details anyway.

Hanma took a drag on his cigarette, blowing smoke out the window. "Have fun."

That was his usual response. Having fun means being in the middle of some kind of meltdown, feeling the adrenaline rush in his blood, and watching the world crumble around him. As the fight starts around him again. This was his world, but clearly not yours.

"Why? Is there something wrong with you?"