Rufu wasn't sure how long she'd laid in bed awake, unable to fall back asleep. Long enough for sunlight to start peeking through her blinds. Long enough, even, to know that staring at the ceiling and counting the little bumps in its texture was not as effective as the counting 'sheep' method Ken had described before. Then again, when she had no idea what a sheep even was, she couldn't exactly vouch for its supposed effectiveness. Ken said they were really fluffy. But, she had to ask, how fluffy? Fluffier than herself, surely. Maybe like a lupari? Were sheep the species on Earth that resembled lupari? Not being able to ask these kinds of silly questions to Ken weighed on her when she knew he was in the house. Somewhere. By himself.

    She couldn't lie there a second longer. She had to check on him. She had to know if he was alright. The house wasn't infested by anything, but who was to say a hukar didn't sneak in during the night or something? Besides, the two largest pests already had easy access to him.

    Tossing her covers aside, Rufu jumped out of bed and flung herself at her closet. She didn't pay attention to what she grabbed. Shorts. A tank top of the reddish persuasion maybe. It didn't matter, just so long as she wasn't yelled at for being indecent. Honestly, every second wasted grated on her nerves more. The grating slide of fabric over her fur, did nothing to distract her from her thoughts. She didn't know how her Kenny was doing. If he was in danger or if he was afraid. The kinds of things she normally never worried about assaulted her mind every second. What if her mother didn't bring him to the guest room after all? What state would he be in if he'd offended her? Rufu paused and took a deep breath once her shirt was on, fitting much better now that her mane began to recede. Discipline. She needed to stay calm. Panicking would do nothing. There was no reason to be afraid. Even that hag wasn't stupid enough to up and hurt a human.

    Calmly, the teenager opened her door and strode down the hall towards the guest room. The door was open. Her heart skipped a beat and her steps sped up. Swinging around the frame she yelled, “Kenny?"

    He wasn't there. The bed was empty, neat, and tidy. There was no answer. She swallowed. It was alright, she told herself. He was small. Of course the bed would look unslept in. She scanned around the room briefly for any sign of him. Just a hint that he had in fact been delivered to the guest bedroom like her mother said. After almost a minute she spotted something curious, a faint glimmer. Awareness. It looked like a speck at first, but as Rufu leaned over the pillow she recognized it as the hard case for Ken's glasses. Oh thank God. He'd been here. Even as relief flooded her, though, she wondered why the case was left here. Didn't he need it?

Rufu bit her lip and reached down to pinch the case between her thumb and forefinger, only to hesitate. It was absurdly tiny. If she could barely even see it, then how easily could she crush it? She had to think. Think. Think...Oh, right, it was waterproof! Licking the pad on the end of her finger, she very carefully pressed her digit onto the miniscule case, pulling her finger back and turning it over. Success. The case had stuck to her finger. Rufu's teeth shone through the ensuing grin. Great! she thought. Now I have to find Ken.

She didn't want to risk dropping the case, even with her spit functioning as an impromptu adhesive, so Rufu kept her hand steady and level. As she stepped out of the room, her wide ears stood at attention, though her nose faintly found suspicious activity from long before. A scent combination she knew like the tip of her tongue. The scent of simmering meat and cheese had wafted over the house's endemic stink, offending her nostrils from the sheer familiarity of it. Rufu growled, but at least it was a clue. She thumped her way down the stairs and to the kitchen, heralded by weighty, booming steps that shook the shoddy hand railings around her.

Upon her arrival, Rufu's nose twitched and closed up defensively, but it didn't stop her from smelling the exhausting aroma of her father's choice for breakfast. Arkebo was off to the side humming a rhythmless rendition of that 21/16 song he loved so much. Easy enough to tune out. She scanned the room for her boyfriend. Her gaze quickly locked onto a tiny, paler-than-usual form on the table. His hair was a mess, and she didn't see any sign of his glasses. His eyes looked so small without them that she could hardly tell what color they were. Rufu shot a sidelong glance at her father, but she dropped the scowl upon approaching the table. “Kenny…" she spoke softer than she normally did. He looked up at her just as she lowered her finger pad towards him. “...You need this?"

The little human smiled, though oddly, he didn't grab the case when he reached for her. He simply hugged her furry finger for a moment, giving it deliberate, pining strokes. “Th-th-thank you, R-Rufu." He sputtered in his usual way.

His desperate petting drew a soft whoop out of the asishi. It had been a bad night for both of them. “Kenny...I'm so sorry. I…" She paused. He shouldn't have come, though maybe, she realized, part of this was her fault? “...I should have prepared you. I'm sorry. My parents are horrible."

“Y-y-you shouldn't s-say that!" Ken reprimanded her.

Rufu shook her head, bewildered. What? Why would he disagree? His little hands finally left her finger to take the glasses' case off of her pad. She watched with a furrowed brow. He swiftly pried his eyewear out of the sticky container and continued, “Th-they're still y-your parents. You sh-sh-shouldn't t-talk about them that way-ay."

Rufu's hand slumped away from the table and back to her side. How could he say that after yesterday? He saw what they were like! Didn't he understand?

“Kenny..."

An uneasy quiet followed. The sounds of sizzling food and her father's atonal humming thrived. She couldn't hear herself over them. They grew louder, as they often did when Arkebo had almost completed a meal. Rufu's mane fell flat to her spine. Her father owned the soundscape now, and with Mildraff out working and a captive audience to dazzle, only an act of god would silence him. Rufu peered over her shoulder to find her father clicking off the stove. A large spot of grease popped out of the pan and splattered on his apron. Arkebo jumped, scrambling for a rag in panic to try and wipe it clean before it could stain. Rufu glowered at the display, but her discontent couldn't fester. Ken asked her a question in the respite Arkebo's panic brought, “What's he c-cooking?"

Rufu craned her neck back towards Ken. “He didn't say?" No response. Rufu grimaced. “Faloofas," she answered.

Her boyfriend tilted his head in confusion, but he didn't have to wait long for any answers he sought. Once Arkebo was certain he had exterminated the grease spot on his apron, he began to plate the food. She spotted three dinner plates, blue for him and a sickly purple for her. The third was much smaller, meant for mugs, repurposed to hold Ken's food and still obviously too large for him. One by one, the greasy faloofas slapped onto the dinner plates. They were simple dishes. Slabs of kargan rump, a kind of asishi cattle, wrapped in a vest of cheese. Served bunless, because the cheese was fried into a skin. Just looking at it gagged her.

“Wait one second, Ben," announced Arkebo, eyeing the corner of the dish on his daughter's plate. “I prepped for you this time."

With a cheery grin, Arkebo hovered a knife over the middle of her faloofa, staking out the meatiest, greasiest, cheesiest portion that he could find. Then he cut. Jets of grease spiked into air, tall as a human, and singed the tips of her father's cheek fur. A cube-shaped gash was left in its center. Ken could have jumped into it if he wanted, stars forbid. Arkebo tonged the fleshy chunk and moved it over onto Ken's plate. Satisfied, Arkebo pinched the little dish between his fingers and held Rufu's meal in his flat palm, before making his way over, studiously recreating the stiff-spined stance of the waiters she saw at places like Prominence.

“Here you go!" he chirped.

Ken's meal tumbled out of her father's tongs and slid down in front of him, prompting a showy curtsey from Arkebo. The abject terror on Ken's face was well earned.

“Well?" Arkebo said, gawking at Rufu, his head flicking up to her level with a giddiness in his eyes. “Sit down, eat up!"

Rufu winced and took her seat on Ken's right, shuffling within arm's reach. Just in case. Her father dutifully slipped the burning hot, partially brutalized faloofa before her, on a tablecloth pecked by stains older than herself. He soon joined them with his own heaping serving. Her father sat opposite to Ken, mane slowly rising and a finger drumming the faux-wood table expectantly.

“How does it look?" he demanded, “It's not everyday somebody tries my faloofas for the first time."

Ken's mortified gaze stuck firmly to his meal. “Uh…"

“Speechless? I can't blame you, but just wait till you taste it, Ben!" the older asishi preened.

Rufu shot her father a dirty look. There were a lot of fancy words and strange vocalizations in human languages. That wasn't one of them. Ken didn't offer corrections, however. “W-what uh...i-is it?"

Her father beamed. Oh heavens, no. He was actually asking about it. “Well, you see Ben, cooking is a bit of an artform and a bit of a science! A lot goes into each dish, but not only do you have to do everything just right, the best chefs have to add their own personal touches! It's in our DNA. Or, 'up your acid', as granddaddy used to sa-"

“Dad..." Rufu interrupted. It would have taken all her remaining willpower to sit through her father's ramblings on the best of days. If she had to do it when Ken was here, and eat another godforsaken faloofa while doing it, she might well have burst. “...Wonderful as this meal is, Ken and I need to talk."

She placed her hand palm up beside her boyfriend, who looked between the two asishi looking bewildered. Arkebo shook his head. “Now, young missy, your little friend needs to eat! Whatever it is can wait, I'm sure."

Rufu snarled and barely bit back a growl. “Then he can eat in my room! It's important!" she argued. “Kenny?"

The little human stared up at her, eyes wide, . “U-uuh…" he looked back to Arkebo and then to her again. “I uh...I-I.th...I thhhink I should st-tay and eat."

Rufu's hand went limp with a light bang on the table. Her mouth fell agape. Was he really choosing her father over her? “See? Ben knows good food when he sees it! No way he'd pass up a meal like this!" the older asishi proclaimed.

She felt another growl building in her throat, and she grit her teeth to hold it in. “Fine!" was all she said. If Ken wanted to stay here and eat this garbage then he could, she was having none of it! Without another word, she stormed off from the table, leaving her food to rot where it sat.

~~

“Rufu?"

    Watching her leave hurt Ken immensely. Rufu had been acting strange ever since he came here, and now after a long night alone she was gone again? Was it something he said? What did he do? The meal didn't look particularly...appetizing, but he needed to eat. Especially after last night's 'meal.' Did she not want him talking to her parents, he wondered? Whatever the case, Arkebo didn't seem all that hurt by her absence.

“Bah! Let her sulk," he scoffed, “just means more for you!"

More for him? Ken hoped he was joking. He hadn't even touched the chunk of faloofa that had been portioned out for him. The meat was still steaming. The cheese still audibly sizzled. Not to mention the size of it. The thing was as tall as his torso, and by the time the grease cooled, his head would have fit in the puddle. There was no way he could eat all of this, assuming he could stomach it in the first place. Any more than this, and he'd surely burst! Either way, he needed to wait for it to cool, lest his skin melt on contact. Arkebo might misunderstand if he didn't soon, though, with the way he kept watching so intently. Offending anyone was the last thing Ken wanted to do. He had to make time. “Uhh, Mi...Mister Arkessen?"

The asishi quirked a brow. He must have expected a 'thank you,' rather than a question.

“Where uhh- you- your cooking. How'd you l-l-learn to do it?" Ken asked, unsure how Arkebo would react. There were a number of ways to describe what Ken was doing. He called it 'buying time.' Rufu would have called it 'stalling.` Arkebo eagerly snapped up the bait.

“Oh, that's easy! Truth is, I've always had a knack for it. It all started when I was a cub. I'd mix herbs and spices and all manner of things. I was cooking better than my parents before I could reach their knees. My brothers thought so. My teachers, too!" He'd begun to stare off into the distance. Ken became invisible, like his memories had filled his vision. "Talents like mine don't come to just anyone, you see. Sometimes I have to remind people of that! Good traditional asishi cooking might be better than your ordinary neishor slop, but I'm hardly an ordinary chef either. It takes someone of great skill to elevate good recipes into great ones!"

Ken nodded along. He didn't know what was so wrong with neishor cooking. Not enough meat maybe? Then again, he had no room to speak on asishi cooking, when he'd hardly tried any. Even so, Arkebo's sky-high opinion of himself didn't have Ken feeling very welcome. His eyes drifted as his host droned on, until eventually, they found the lettering on his chest, shambling along in UTO common after so many years. He didn't make it out before, but he did remember Rufu's father wearing the same old apron yesterday. It was so worn, Arkebo's posture always put it at the forefront. What made it so special? He was somewhat curious, despite his discomfort.

“An-and the Shuh-rah feast?" Ken asked, garbling the unfamiliar words.

“Shurra Feast," Arkebo corrected, “you haven't heard?"

    Ken said nothing. Arkebo's mane flared up briefly, only to recede as a strained smile smeared his face. “Why, it's only the biggest cooking competition in my hometown! And I'll tell you now that no other competition on Ek'lishka can compare! The greatest chef of the last fifty years, Porororo Roro, won it once, and he was even there as a guest judge when I competed," Ken opened his mouth to speak, but his host went on, “I'll never forget what he said about my faloofas! 'This is a fine dish. Cooked to perfection in every sense. Son, you're showing some great potential in you. You just need to branch out.'"

    Arkebo giggled giddily to himself as he reminisced. Ken quietly looked to the chunk of faloofa before him. Did he really receive such praise for this? The steaming pile of meat and cheese was ghastly to him, but if it earned such a compliment from an -apparently- noteworthy chef, then how much must it have improved by now? Arkebo cleared his throat, and made Ken jump. The sound like cannonfire to one so small. Turning his gaze back up he saw the asishi beaming expectantly and tapping his finger on a portion of his treasured apron. “And do you know who won?"

    As if the question wasn't leading enough, Ken traced the lettering near where Arkebo was tapping his finger. First place. “Uuh, y-you?"

    “In one, Ben! I took home the apron!" the asishi confirmed. “I even impressed the local hottie enough for some ear licks! Haaa...good times."

    Ken blushed a bit as he thought back to Rufu and his first kiss. How sloppy it was. How good it felt. He wasn't an asishi, though. Certain instincts weren't in play for them like they were for Arkebo. The high of approval from an attractive woman must have been pretty strong for a male asishi like him. The human smiled a little. “S-so what happened af-after that?"

    “Why, the very next summer, I enlisted in the….Culinary Navy…" Arkebo's bright and boisterous tone dropped off quietly, and his ears splayed out to the sides.

    Ken furrowed his brow, “Culinary...N-Navy?"

    He gave an agitated sigh, “A school for professional chefs. They used to travel along with the Asishi Navy, serving the girls and keeping them strong. The school admirals have always been personal chefs to the Supreme Commander. I wanted to be one of them, back when I was young and dumb."

    It was strange for Ken to hear how heavily Asishi culture seemed to be entwined with their military. He knew that they essentially ran the species in place of a congress or parliament, but culinary navies? School admirals? They really had school ranks that copied the armed forces? Rufu never talked about anything like this. Actually, upon further reflection, Ken didn't think he'd ever heard her bring up anything to do with the Asishi herself. Of course, growing up on a colony meant that he was fairly well educated about the other UTO races. But next to the highly democratic Union government and the governments of many of its members, a military dictatorship stood out immensely. It was...alien, and perhaps he was too.

    Arkebo wasn't looking at him anymore. He was staring quietly at his plate, the corners of his mouth twitching. Ken swallowed. Maybe he should have dropped it there? Rufu's father seemed calm himself, saving him the trouble of making a decision. “My initial application was approved! As a homeworld-born asishi, I should have been allowed straight in without further tests, but...there were...a lot of applicants that year!" Arkebo looked to the young man as if he were searching for signs that he agreed. Ken only gave him signs of anxiety. “So everyone had to cook for the staff, and only the best would be let in."

    Somehow, Ken knew where this was going, but he was in too deep to back out now, “S-so...did you p-pass?"

    Arkebo's ears and mane wilted. Silence. Ken almost felt relieved. Finally, some room to breathe! Arkebo sat still. Dead still, not speaking, barely blinking. He was quiet for so long that Ken started to worry, but right as Ken opened his mouth the asishi broke his silence, springing back to life. “Well...the school admiral wasn't there, naturally. Far too busy to be, and that left me with judges of lesser tastes, of course," he laughed once without amusement. “They even had a kiori chef there of all things!"

Ken's mouth opened and shut a few times. He didn't need Arkebo to continue to know how the story would go from there, and he didn't know what to say anyway. Rufu's father pretended to taste the air and saddled Ken with an annoyed stare. “Well? Are you going to eat?"

    The human almost flinched at how harshly the words came out. He must have hit a nerve. Looking back to the chunk of faloofa in front of him, he could tell it was still hot, but not too hot to touch anymore. It wasn't the worst smelling thing in the house either. Far from perfect, but not the biohazard it once was. He could do this.“Y...y-y-yes! Th-th-thank you, M-Mr. Ark-k-kessen!"

    Reaching out, the human quickly grabbed hold of part of the faloofa. The cheesy exterior was mostly dry, to his relief, but there was still enough grease that he didn't want to touch his glasses until he could wash off. With a grunt, he managed to pull off a chunk of meat and cheese. Slowly, he brought it to his mouth. He could feel Arkebo's eyes on him. He couldn't hesitate. Biting in...he was surprised. Actually, it didn't taste that bad. It was nowhere near as slimy or disgusting as he'd feared. The substance itself was oddly soft and pliable. He needed to put some effort into chewing it, of course, but an asishi's teeth would have shredded this. It was almost like a pizza with meat instead of sauce. If anything, it was almost bland. But it definitely wasn't bad. Breakfast wouldn't be as rough as supper had been, it seemed. He swallowed, gulping in some air.

“Aahh, I knew you'd love it!" Arkebo gushed with his mouth full. “Good news is, there's plenty more where that came from!"

Arkebo's eyes fell on the rest of Rufu's faloofa, then back to Ken. He gasped.

“Tears of joy!"

    ~~

    The meal passed without much more in the way of words. Hoping that Arkebo would relax if the subject was left alone, Ken had just focused on his food. When he couldn't eat anymore of the cut of faloofa, the asishi had graciously snapped up what remained and tossed it into his mouth. Without so much as a word, he stood and collected the plates, including Rufu's untouched meal. Ken's host was already walking away before he could force any words out. He was left stranded on the table as Arkebo took the dishes to the sink.

    Ken frowned and made his way over to the edge of the table. Peering down, the distance to the tiled floor was enough to make him take a few steps back. He was left with nothing else to do but watch Arkebo clean the kitchen, and Arkebo wasn't exactly in a hurry. No matter which way Ken looked, he spied no sign of Rufu. No chance to escape. He'd begun to wonder if Arkrbo even remembered he was there. He had sighed and slumped when he stored the empty plates, beamed and doting over Rufu's dish, wrapping it and storing it in the fridge like a blacksmith caring for his masterpiece. But not once did he spare a glance towards Ken. Not one twitch of an ear, or a token sniff. He had to mourn his dish.

At long last, it seemed Arkebo was done. But any building comfort quickly faded as the human watched Arkebo make for an exit from the room. No, not now! and when nervousness normally shattered his will to speak, panic forced out a plea.

“WAIT!"

    Arkebo paused in the hall doorway. His ears swiveled and angled towards the table, taking a moment before he turned around. “Did you need something, Ben?" he asked with feigned cheer.

    Ken gulped, but he kept himself stable. He had to make the problem clear. “Y...y-y-you c-can't just...l-leave me here. I-I'll be stuck!"

Arkebo's expression soured with every stutter. “Ah, I'm...sorry," he answered without any feeling. “Here."

    He approached the table and offered his hand, palm up, with his forearm slanted impatiently. Ken couldn't help but stare. Was he really that much of a problem for them? He heard a growl, and the human hurried to climb into the offered hand. He'd barely sat down before Arkebo started marching off to the stairs. Without anything to lean on, Ken scrambled to grab hold of a barely raised thumb on his left. The turning of heavy locks echoed from the foyer. Arkebo froze, and from around the corner, Mildraff came into the kitchen.

    Ken blinked as he took her in. Looming over Arkebo, and towering over himself. Literal tons of asishi muscle, tightly packed into a pair of dark slacks and a similar polo shirt with a transport system label under her left shouder. The uniform looked as uncomfortable on her as the school uniform did on Rufu. “Dear, you're home early," her husband pointed out.

    Had it even been two hours? Ken couldn't be sure, but she hadn't been out of the house that long. There was no way her shift was finished. It barely had time to begin. Mildraff settled on Arkebo with an unhappy glare, but her eyes widened just slightly when they spied Ken. “Oh! I just figured I'd take some of my vacation time while our little guest was over!" she explained.

    Ken furrowed his brow. That seemed strange, but he guessed it would be wrong to fault her for what was probably her way of being thoughtful. He supposed he should be at least a little grateful. “O-oh, u-um, th-than--"

    “So what's for breakfast?" Mildraff asked.

Arkebo began to smirk. “Only the best!"

    Mildraff stared at him blankly. A quick sniff of the air brought a scowl to her face, “Ugh! Faloofas? Again?!"

    Arkebo flinched, and Ken tightened his grip on the asishi's thumb when the sudden movement threatened to spill him onto the floor. Mildraff stomped up to them, and her husband slouched, ears peeling back. Ken gawked at the intimidating pillar of cloth and fur. He could barely see her face from over the swell of her chest, but the livid anger in her eyes made him fear what she was going to do Arkebo and, by proxy, himself. “Fix me something else." she growled.

    Arkebo whined like an injured pup and nodded. With a huff through her nostrils, Mildraff turned her back on them both. A breath Ken held tight in his chest tumbled out of his mouth and staggered him. “Why not just ask Porororo to sever a whole restaurant in an hour?" Arkebo muttered once she was past the hall doorway.

    Everything seemed to freeze. For a few moments, Ken managed to keep calm. The comment wasn't entirely wrong, but his calm did not last. Mildraff's presence was overpowering as she stormed back towards them. He could not simply close his eyes and blink her away. Mildraff growled like an animal, baring her teeth. For once, the shining white spears actually scared Ken. Her husband hunkered down low, hunching himself over, and turning his long neck to the side, exposing his throat. Mildraff's enormous eyes flashed to Ken in his hands, and the snarl was replaced with a smirk. The room, his ears, his every thought, Arkebo had only borrowed them. They were Mildraff's once more. “Give him," she ordered.

    A hand came out before Arkebo, bigger than his and cleaner at a glance. The male asishi froze, then with a quiet growl, he pressed the side of his hand to hers. Ken's jaw hung open. He couldn't even...what was this? Was he just some...thing?! Outraged as he was, what other choice did he have right now? With great reluctance, he let go of Arkebo's thumb and tried to move, only to be hurried -face first- onto Mildraff's hand by some force he couldn't resist. Apparently satisfied, Mildraff turned and left. He caught sight of a smug smile on Arkebo's face just before his view of the man was cut off by Mildraff's body.

    Now that he had changed hands, Mildraff stood stiff and tall. Proud, almost, though the way she held him told a different story. Her hand was flat and open just like last night. Fingers bent back away from her palm, as if cupped around an invisible soccer ball. Anything not to touch her unwanted trophy.

    “I'm watching my shows," she told her husband.

    She then turned back to the hall she'd been heading down before, trudging towards her mid-day entertainment like nothing else mattered. Him included. With no sign of salvation, Ken reached into his pants to grab his yutri. He'd call Rufu himself. But as his hand slid into the pocket it grabbed at nothing. The boy's blood ran cold. It wasn't there. His yutri was back on that bed somewhere! Damn it, Rufu spotted his glasses why couldn't she have found his yutri too? Was it under a fold of cloth or something? Resigned to his fate, Ken felt a little numb, as Mildraff reached her destination.

The living room was in disarray. The age-old scent the rest of the place had thrived here, coming not only from the walls, but the very ground so far below. It had seeped into everything. A shaggy, old carpet and a chipped, knee-high table lay between Mildraff and her holo display. Piles of discarded fur lined the floor, neglected and stinking. To his right was a multi-story glass case, next to a window with no curtains. Framed photos and holo equivalents adorned the top shelf. Any of Rufu's were mainly her as a child, Arkebo's focused on his adolescent years. Only Mildraff's were at all recent. Not a single family portrait lay among them. No pictures of extended family or friends, either. Not even a wedding photo. Mildraff kneeled before the table in the middle of the room and all but rolled him of her hand. It hurt like hell, but it could have been worse. At least his cuts didn't reopen.

    His girlfriend's mother crashed on the couch, barking her voice commands at the display moments later. She wanted the news. Current asishi affairs. The programs were almost indecipherable for him. Talking heads, all asishi, blasting obuzzword after buzzword. His translator barely kept up. He usually found these programs repulsive, regardless of species. But any distraction was welcome today.

“Ah, shut the fool up!"

Mildraff heckled the pundits as if they were listening. Ken found her commentary cringeworthy at best, but somehow, like Mildraff wanted, the woman with the stripy fur seemed to obey. She stared down her male co-host and told him to stop. The male asishi slumped and fell silent. His once defiant spirit had drained in a second. It beggared belief. Mildraff was ravenous.

“You tell him, Kesta! Enough of these idiots and their 'health and safety'! Long live General Souzek!"

Ken felt like his eyes were going square. Repetitive and irritating as the show may have been, there was one small boon to it. A look into the species dynamics. Rufu avoided the subject with impunity, and she and her parents were the only asishi he had ever seen. Anything he knew, he knew from textbooks. Seeing the women twice as big as the men, able to exploit their submissive instincts on a whim? He was taking notes.

“Hey, human!"

For the first time since she'd set him down, Mildraff had spoken to him. He couldn't pull her away from the screen, apparently, but he had some shred of her attention at least. Lucky him.

“See those two?" She pointed to a couple of the pundits. “You see how scrawny they are? That's your average Seksin supporter. Weak. And. Spineless. All of them!"

Ken would have nodded if she were looking. He vocalised instead, “U-uh h-huh…"

“Hukars like them haven't fought a day in their lives. They wouldn't know a real asishi if she bit 'em in the face, and they think they can replace Souzek? Ha!"

The human had little idea what she was babbling about. But disagreeing was unwise. Tell her what she wants to hear. Tell her what she wants to hear. He said, “Y-yeah! The-th-they couldn't ah-"

He didn't know what she wanted to hear. He panicked. His eyes darted about, trying to find something he could say to placate her. Think, Ken, think…

“Couldn't what?" Mildraff asked him, He'd become an entity again just as he'd drawn a blank. Fuck. Maybe he could talk her up? The television didn't give him any material. Nor the carpeting. The photos were better, but not perfect. But he was looking in the right place. It was then that he took full notice of the metallic prizes in the same glass case as the photographs. Trophies. Were they Rufu's? They looked the part, but they were old. Real old. And he didn't recall his girlfriend ever coming in third. Whatever. He didn't have time to puzzle this out. Those trophies were his best bet at salvation right now.

“...They couldn't win th-those! Th-they're Rufu's, ri-ight?"

A broad grin spread across Mildraff's face, teeth poking through, if only a little. “Ha! Impressed? They're all mine. I tore up the toughest competitions in Ek'lishka. Rufu got it all from me."

“You, uhh, t-trained her?" Ke thought the question was fair. There might have been a grain of truth in Mildraff's claims, but Rufu worked hard. This was a stretch if he ever heard one.

“Didn't need to..." she boasted, “...a real asishi's genes were enough. I always set a good example for her. She still goes too easy on her opponents if you ask me. Stupid girl... I keep telling her, 'find some backbone and find a boyfriend.' Too bad she doesn't have either yet!" Mildraff released a sigh dramatically and put a hand on her chin. “But, we were all her age once. She'll come out of this rebellious phase and into the light one day. They always do!"

Ken felt like he'd been pelted with stones. Every time she talked it either hurt or horrified him, and God, did she love to talk. The trophies being hers did explain the lower placings at least. Rufu took home golds. First place prizes across the board, ever since he'd known her. Mildraff wore bronze better. Anger clouded his judgement, and he said, “You have to be p-proud of her, though. Since she always places higher than you!"

It took everything in him not to flinch when Mildraff snapped her head towards him. Her eyes flickered back to the cabinet, fury giving way to melancholy. “Yeah, well, what do you expect on a non-asishi world? People don't fight as hard out here."

Ken balked. Who was she kidding? Your average full grown neishor weighed over twice as much as an asishi. Most any martial artist on Shurrashor would have given Rufu and her mother a lopsided fight on the best of days. Mildraff let out a deep grumble, tail angrily scraping the inner fabric of her couch. Shit. She must have paid more attention to him than he thought. “Hmph, I wouldn't expect a human to understand. Listen. There's a big thing Rufu and all her weekend warrior opponents are missing."

She leaned in towards the table, her head hanging only a few feet away. Ken was frozen in place. The air was on fire, stifling. He could have ran, but every corner led to a grizzly demise. He didn't want to move, because then she'd know she scared him. So he sat still, trapped as she whispered, “They don't deal any real damage. I see her when she comes home. Aches? Bruises? Cub stuff! A match back on Ek'lishka wasn't a match until someone lost an ear. Or a finger. Or even an eye. They're all shit-scared of hurting each other, ."

Ken stayed rigid. Instincts long buried flared in the back of his mind, screaming, Get out of here! Don't you see the size of her? Yet his feet stayed planted. Maybe she was trying to scare him, maybe she wasn't. He just didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

“Mom!"

Mildraff's head jerked to the side, and Ken allowed himself to breathe again. Casually, she leaned back into her seat. Rufu was standing to the side of the couch. “What are you doing to Ken?! And what are you doing home?!" she demanded of her mother.

“Oh, I thought, seeing as we have company, it would be nice to take a few days off of work. Spend some time together," Mildraff said sweetly.

It confused Ken. Just a second ago she'd been so threatening. Now she was acting all nice. Rufu's expression remained hard. He swore he even saw his girlfriend snarl for a second. Though her great green eyes shortly turned to him. Privately, he hoped she would be his way out. “Fine. Hey, Ken. Want to come check out this game with me?" she asked.

Game? He couldn't recall ever seeing her playing a video game before, or even talking about one. Either way, some time alone with her was more than welcome. “S-su--"

“What about your homework?"

Both teens looked to Mildraff with surprise. “I have all quarter to finish that," Rufu rebutted, keeping her voice cool. Mildraff wore a smug grin.

“Now, child, the sooner you do the homework the sooner it'll be out of the way, and then you won't have any interruptions during your friend's visit."

Ken was panicking. Being trapped in the middle of another fight was the last thing he could handle. He could already feel his heart rate picking up. He had to stop this. Now. “I-i-it's oka--"

“I can do the homework after Ken goes home."

“We both know you need all the time you can get."

Ken took a deep breath to steady himself, “I-I c-can--"

“My grades have gone up, in case you hadn't noticed!"

“Pah! That's just a fluke. Go to your room and study."

“I CAN HELP!" Both asishi stopped their arguing at once. They looked to him with wide eyes. Rufu's mouth stretched into a wide open, horrified frown, but he pushed through still. “I-I-I'm Rufu's t-tutor. I-I...I can help."

Mildraff leaned in with great interest. “Her tutor?" she asked with surprise.

“Mom!" Rufu shouted. “Have you let Ken's parents know where he is yet? You can't let my… friend's parents worry!"

Whatever gears had been turning in her mother's head ground to a halt. “Dicks…" Mildraff quietly swore.

The older asishi was all too quick to stand up and rush out of the room, her running steps shaking the table beneath Ken. He watched her go, likely to fetch wherever she'd put her yutri. The information festered in his head. So, they didn't know Rufu had a tutor either? And there was that word again. That dreadful little word.

“Friend…" he whispered to himself. “Just a friend?"

Moments later, his little world was shattered. Furred fingers slid behind him and scooped him up into a palm. The hold was proper, safe, secure. Yet the comfort he'd known before had been stripped away. Rufu bore down on him, and she was not happy.

“Kenny, we need to talk."

~~

It took all of Rufu's focus to contain herself at this point. She couldn't believe Ken had just told her mother that! Damnit, as if she needed more ammunition. If that wasn't enough, Rufu was still reeling from the fact he chose her father over her this morning! Her! His girlfriend! He almost wondered whose side he was on! But even despite the swell of emotions inside her, the hand which held her boyfriend stayed stable. Discipline. Remember, discipline.

It didn't take long for her to travel the stairs and enter her room, swiftly locking the door behind her for safety. A sigh escaped her. At least here she had a safe haven, sparse as it was. Her bed was shoved against one wall. A desk shoved against another. No computer, just a handful of books. She had a dresser next to her closet. But other than a small, cheap punching bag for practice, there wasn't any sign of decoration or personality to the place. Even her trophies were long gone. “Your golds pay the bills better than my bronzes," her mother always said. She never saw the bills, of course.

“R-Rufu?" said a tiny voice."A-are you alright?"

And just like that, her bubbling anger rose to a boiling point. The second she dropped Ken off on her desk and took her seat, she lost it.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Ken balked and backstepped as she continued her tirade. “It's bad enough that you snuck you here in the most dangerous, STUPID way possible. But then you-- What are you doing?! Are you fine being treated this way?!"

“I-I n...n-n-no, but your p-p-parents are--"

“THEY'RE WHAT?!" Rufu demanded, gripping the sides of the desk. “You can't be buying this shit, can you?"

“W...w-what shit?" Ken blurted, looking around in a daze. Rufu took a deep breath and ran her hands along her face. How could he be so dense?

“Why did you even come here in the first place?" she growled at him, rage cooling somewhat.

“T...I-I-I...I-I told you. I-I was worried. I w...w-wanted t-to help you." Ken sputtered desperately.

By siding with her parents? Cause that's what it was starting to look like to her. Ever since he came here he'd not objected to them once. He'd voluntarily stuck around them! Did he agree with them? Oh god, had they won him over? “And tell me, Ken, just how were you going to help me?"

His head turned down to the desk. He couldn't even look her in the eye. She felt like she was wilting. Was it true? She couldn't even bring herself to press him for the answer this time. Crossing her arms, she looked away from him. “I think you've spent enough time here. After they go to sleep tonight, I'll sneak you out. Where'd you leave your mech?"

The little human suddenly snapped to life, “N-no!"

Rufu's ears stood at attention. She looked down at him with a confused snarl. “No?"

“You'll b-be in tr-trouble if you do that!"

She growled, “Then call your damn parents! Your yutri is working right?"

“I-I won't!" he pleaded, “I won't l-l-eavvve y--"

“Oh, you won't leave?" she hissed. “Fine. Fine! But you're not staying in here!"

    Without waiting, Rufu snatched him back up, and stormed out of her room. He tried to object, but she wouldn't entertain his stuttering nonsense anymore. She dropped him back off in the guest room he seemed to love so much, where he would continue to sleep alone. Rufu turned her back and walked away. She shut her eyes, and hurried to slam the door on him. She kept telling herself not to look back, not to think about him any further. But his scent clung to her. On her hands, through the door. A lasting memento, and by god did it sting.

She threw herself onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling, out the window, anywhere but at the wall she knew he was on the opposite side of. Images flashed before her. Images in her mind of that fateful school dance where their relationship began. People stared and jeered like they always did, but she paid it no mind. For once in her life, nothing mattered. Nothing except him. She'd found someone who wouldn't use her, or laugh at her. Someone who cared. Where were those times now? A tear welled up in her eye, and she let it fall free.

    “Kenny… What's happening to us?"