A/N: "Oh look," I hear you exclaim, "Tii-chan17's written another oneshot! I wonder if she's discovered a new fandom, maybe a new pairing?" The answer, of course, is no. I am still emotionally crippled by No. 6 and it appears that I shall remain so for the forseeable future. I think this is my fifth oneshot with this pairing, not counting my translation. Holy crap. What is wrong with me? And, as if that wasn't bad enough, this makes THREE reunion fics! THREE! And I'm pretty sure they're all very similar, too.

Ah, well. I'll grow up later.

Disclaimer: I don't own No. 6.

Changes

I don't know what to do.

It had been a long time since Nezumi had thought those words. Before, he'd wandered wherever his feet had taken him, not giving anything a second thought. It had been entertaining, in a loose sense of the word. Seeing new sights, sights of which he'd never dreamed before; being free to come and go as he pleased. It had been a good feeling, but it was gone now.

Before the wandering, he'd had Shion. Nezumi swallowed at the thought of the boy, with his bright eyes and brighter smile. Nezumi hadn't needed anything to do when he'd had Shion. The boy was like a firecracker of new experiences, new emotions, new everything. Through discovering Shion, Nezumi had discovered himself. And then he'd left him.

Nezumi's eyes narrowed against the guilt that thought brought. It still lingered in his mind, Shion's fractured face when he'd realised Nezumi was leaving. Nezumi hadn't thought such bright, innocent eyes could hold so much pain.

He drew his legs up to his chest to try and ease the ache. The rock beneath him was warm, baked by the desert sun, yet even the heat could do nothing to relax him.

Nezumi hated days like this, when all he could think about was Shion: how he was doing, what he looked like now, whether he had changed at all. He hated it. Shion was a person of the past. He kept telling himself that, but to no avail. Shion had become the central point of his life, and time was now measured by how long it had been since he'd last seen his face.

Nezumi buried his face in his arms, only to raise it again at the sound of chirping next to him. The mice were gnawing at his sleeve, cheeping insistently. Nezumi gazed vacantly at them. Hamlet and Cravat, wasn't that what Shion had called them? He was forgetting. He forgot more and more each day, and although sometimes it seemed like a relief, it sometimes seemed like the most horrifying thought in the world too.

"Come on, quiet down," he told the mice, who were chirping as loudly as they possibly could. "What do you want? You ate less than three hours ago."

The chirping continued. The golden-brown mouse clambered up his trouser leg to perch on his knee, squeaking all the while.

Nezumi gazed at it helplessly. "What do you want from me?" he asked. He stroked the little creature with his finger, then hastily snatched it back when it bit down hard on his thumb.

"Ow!" he cried, suddenly furious. "The hell was that for?!" He barely stopped himself from shoving the rodent off his leg and onto the hard stone beneath them. He stared at his thumb instead. Blood was welling in the cut, trickling down his hand as it began to overflow. Nezumi flipped his hand over, then again, watching the crimson spiral the drop of blood left around his thumb.

Then he understood.

"You want me to go back, don't you?" he asked the mouse, who chirped victoriously. "You want me to crawl back to him like a wounded pet and beg his forgiveness." Nezumi inhaled a shaky breath and slipped his bleeding thumb into his mouth. It had been six months since he'd left No. 6, six months that he'd been walking wherever his feet had taken him, and the idea of turning back frightened him. Not because he was afraid of Shion, not anymore. Nezumi was afraid because he wanted to do it far, far too much.

I don't know what to do.

Did he turn back? Did he go on? He didn't know what lay ahead in either direction. He could do neither. He could sit here, on this rock, until his bones turned to dust.

But that would just be giving up, wouldn't it?

He'd told Shion, all those months ago, that he could never give up, no matter the cost. He'd told him to keep fighting, to never let himself change. It seemed Nezumi hadn't changed, either. Still he was drawn to Shion, still he felt that constant, heart-rending pull in his gut.

Nezumi stood, sending the mouse leaping from his leg.

My gut's served me well thus far.

He took his first step towards No. 6.

A year had passed since the walls of No. 6 had been destroyed. For Shion, everything had changed.

He'd promised. He'd vowed to Nezumi that he would never let himself be changed. But that day, in the middle of a very important committee meeting, it had hit him: he was a completely different person. If he had met his past self, he doubted they'd have anything left in common apart from the hair, and the scar.

That Shion is a person of the past. The thought hurt him, indirectly. It was odd: the changes ought to have been a good thing. It made it easier for him to function in the new society he was creating, to hold his own against the pushy, opinionated members of the committee.

Shion had become aware of his evolution in a moment of clarity that had nearly jeopardised his entire presentation. He could still remember the exact words he'd been saying, even as he walked home through a street over which darkness had long since fallen.

"The money will be hard to come by, taking into account the funds that rebuilding the city is eating. However, I believe we'll have enough for the monument if we cut the renovation funding for what used to be the West Block and –"

He had frozen, suddenly aware of the words that were pouring from his mouth. Stop rebuilding the West Block? Thousands of people would be left without houses, without shelter – for a monument? Did the fact that it wasn't part of the original No. 6 mean that the lives there were of less importance than those who'd lived in Chronos? Did he actually believe that?

Shion had stared at his colleagues. None of them had looked perturbed by his suggestion. The only disquiet had been that caused by his sudden halt.

Then the realisation had come. They'd always thought like that, prejudiced and selfish. Shion had believed he was different, truly believed that he would never become like them. But he had. The longer he spent in the committee, the more he changed and the less he cared about the poor, the hungry, the ones most in need of aid.

If this continued, he was going to turn No. 6 back into the monstrous dystopia it had once been. He would become a parasite, and history would rewind.

He would change – had already changed – even though Nezumi had begged him not to do so.

He had become a better politician, a better public speaker, a better leader as a result of the changes. But nevertheless, the things he had suggested had been things he never could have done a year ago, before Nezumi had left him. He had changed, and it was Nezumi's fault.

Why did you leave me? How could you let me turn into this?

Shion wondered bitterly whether Nezumi would hate the person he was becoming. He walked onwards, towards the empty house that was waiting for him.

Inukashi almost choked on her bite of apple when she felt Nezumi's knife against her throat.

"Your senses haven't sharpened any," he quipped, before sheathing the weapon and stepping back.

Inukashi span around, eye's wide with disbelief. "You!" she cried.

"The very same." Nezumi smirked.

"And you haven't changed a bit! Still sneaking around threatening people with that blade of yours." She rolled her eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you haven't grown at all since you were twelve."

Nezumi's smile widened slightly at the memory of their first meeting, which had played out almost exactly like the scene of a few seconds ago. "That was just for old times' sake," he told her. "I'm actually here to ask a favour."

"A favour?!" Inukashi snorted. "You come here after disappearing God knows where for a year, threaten me with a knife and then ask a favour?"

"Will you help me?"

"Depends. Whaddya want?" She took another large bite of apple.

"I want you to tell me where Shion is."

Inukashi's eyebrows disappeared beneath her wild mop of hair. "Oho. I knew this had to have something to do with that airhead."

"Why else would I come back? It certainly wasn't for your charming company, I'll tell you that for free."

Inukashi snickered. "I'll bet. Shion's part of the Restructural Committee now. He's at the top of one of the major groups there."

"Groups?"

"You didn't expect everyone to agree on everything immediately, did you? There are two main groups. Shion's is working to improve No. 6, and the other is made up of people who took part in the resistance before the walls fell and want complete change. They're an angry bunch." She swallowed her mouthful. "Shion lives apart from his Mama now, but not far. He's two streets away from the bakery. Take a right and then your second left. It's the house with the wooden door."

Nezumi nodded. "Thanks." He turned to leave.

"Oi!" Inukashi called. When Nezumi turned around again, she hesitated, something the boy had seen her do only a handful of times before. "Shion's still an airhead...but he's not the same as he was. It's your fault, you know. He cried for at least a day after you left, his Mama told me. And since then, he's seemed...harder."

Nezumi tried his best not to let the anguish show on his face. The idea that Shion had let himself be changed was painful. The idea that Nezumi had been the one to change him was excruciating.

You were supposed to stay like that forever, he thought. Always bright, always kind.

He could feel the fear seeping into him now. Would he find Shion, after all? Was Shion still there?

Nezumi swallowed his doubts and left.

Shion's house was small, modest and slightly ramshackle, just as Nezumi would have imagined. It practically reeked of him.

Inhaling deeply, Nezumi began to shin up the drain pipe towards the balcony. It was late, well past eleven, meaning Shion would surely be asleep, and anyhow: how could he even think of entering Shion's life again in a different way?

He reached the balcony and swung himself over the railing, landing almost silently on the tiled floor. The doors to Shion's room were glass, just like all those years ago. Nezumi swallowed the nostalgia. He tried the door handle, and his stomach dropped. It was locked. For some reason, in all his imaginings of this reunion during his six-month walk back, Nezumi had always assumed the window would be open.

He's got a bit more worldly-wise, then. The thought shouldn't have hurt.

He fished in his pocket and found his lock-pick. He crouched on the floor and set to work. It was a good lock, but not impenetrable, and it took Nezumi ten minutes to open it. By the time the lock clicked, his fingers were shaking with anticipation.

I'm going to see him again. I'm going to touch him again.

He'd told the mice to be quiet, but he could feel their excitement too, their wriggling and writhing in his jacket mimicking that of his own heart.

He pushed the door lightly. It swung open.

Clenching his fists and steeling his nerves, Nezumi stepped inside. He was immediately assaulted by a scent that'd he'd almost completely forgotten, apart from a breeze of a memory in a dream or two. It smelled of Shion, clean and warm and welcoming.

It took all of Nezumi not to break down completely in that very moment.

Well, I suppose this proves that I haven't changed at all, he thought. The mere thought of him still floors me. He only hoped that it would be enough to make up for the changes Shion had undergone.

Shion himself wasn't in the bedroom, but Nezumi could clearly hear sounds of activity from the kitchen. A kettle was boiling. Nezumi frowned. If Shion was making tea, he wouldn't be able to sleep until gone two in the morning, if his tolerance to caffeine was still the same.

Taking great pains to be as silent as possible, Nezumi crept downstairs. Giving Shion a fright would be the first bit of real fun he'd had in a year and he intended to make the most of the opportunity.

I hope his heart's in good condition, Nezumi quipped to himself, trying fruitlessly to calm his own pulse. A heart attack after all this time just wouldn't do.

There was a light on in the room nearest to the door, obviously the kitchen. It spilled yellow brightness over the worn floorboards. A human-shaped shadow flashed over the floor and Nezumi's throat seized up.

This is it.

I'm going to see him.

I want to see him.

I don't care if he's changed.

Let me see him.

He slipped through the open doorway.

Shion had his back to him, pouring boiling water into a mug, and Nezumi had to pause for a moment to take it all in. Shion's hair was just as white as he remembered, though it was shorter now – enough that he could see a hint of the scar that trailed underneath his collar. Nezumi wasn't sure, but he thought Shion might even have grown an inch or two in the past year. He was still slim, and looked just as soft-muscled as before.

Shion lifted the mug of tea to his lips and took a sip, picking up a couple of capsules with his other hand. Nezumi's eyes narrowed when he saw the box they had come from.

Headache tablets, prescription strength. God, Shion, what have you done to yourself?

Before Shion could slip the pills between his lips, Nezumi said softly, "Hey."

The sound of the mug shattering on the tiles was deafening. Suddenly Shion's body was all tension, his hands shaking violently and his shoulders rigid. He appeared frozen in place.

Nezumi took a hesitant step forward. "Shion? Turn around. Please."

Shion did so, and the pure fear in his eyes made Nezumi's heart jolt painfully. They weren't supposed to look like that, not when they were fixed on him.

He took another step forward, and Shion took one back, pressing himself desperately against the counter, the remains of the mug crunching beneath his slippers. Nezumi froze immediately.

"Have I gone mad?" Shion asked, voice a hoarse whisper.

Nezumi shook his head, unable to bring a smile to his lips. "It's really me," he promised. "I came back."

Shion didn't look like he believed him at first, but eventually Nezumi saw his face slowly begin to crumple. He took that as his cue to rush across the room and finally, finally embrace the boy who had wormed his way into his life and made a cavernous nest inside Nezumi's heart.

Shion fell against him life a limp rag doll and almost immediately Nezumi felt the tears soaking through his shirt. Shion was sobbing like a child, and clinging to him so tightly it made Nezumi want to cry himself.

"I'm sorry!" Shion was wailing. "I'm so sorry!"

Nezumi pulled back abruptly. "You're what?"

Shion's eyes were bloodshot and his nose was dripping very unattractively. "I'm sorry!" he repeated, still blubbing. "I didn't mean to!"

"Shion, what the hell are you talking about?" Nezumi asked, completely at a loss. "What do you have to be sorry about?"

Shion hiccuped pitifully. "I'm changing," he moaned. "I'm changing even though you begged me not to! I'm becoming just like them!"

"Just like who?"

"The previous No. 6 officials!"

Nezumi blinked. "What do you mean?" he asked quietly.

Shion gulped, and more tears spilled down his cheeks. "I...I did a really bad thing," he admitted, his voice a bare whisper.

Though he never would have admitted to it, Nezumi's heart went cold. Had Shion really changed so much? Would he still be able to find his old, dear friend in this person in his arms?

"What bad thing?" he asked softly.

Voice watery and ululating, Shion told him. When he was done, Nezumi tugged him back against his chest with a huff of laughter, burrowing his nose into the soft hair of his head.

"The way you were going on I thought you'd killed someone," Nezumi chuckled, lips brushing against Shion's ear.

"But can't you see?" Shion protested. "I'm becoming corrupt! I'm contradicting the very things I set out to do! I'm becoming a monster!"

Nezumi burst out laughing anew. "Shion," he sputtered, "you would make a terrible excuse for a monster."

Shion looked up at him in confusion, eyes red and raw.

"Look at you!" Nezumi continued. "Wracked with guilt over a little financial suggestion. It's probably not even going to go through, not if you don't want it to! You're the leader of your group, right? You can fix it."

"But you don't understand! I'm becoming corrupt! Selfish! How can I look at Inukashi and Rikiga when –"

"Shion." Nezumi looked him dead in the eye. "Just because you did one morally dubious thing doesn't make you a monster. You're overreacting."

"But I've changed! You said yourself that I couldn't let myself change and I –"

"Shion," Nezumi interrupted. "You're right in that I didn't want you to change. You were so pure, I just couldn't bear the thought of you becoming tainted in any way. But it's my fault you changed. If I hadn't left you would have stayed exactly as you were. Although..." He trailed off, taking a step back from Shion and looking him up and down. "I don't actually see what everyone's been going on about. You're still just as squishy and tearful as always."

Shion frowned through his tears. "Squishy?"

"You don't exercise at all, do you?" Nezumi teased. "Seriously, though, Shion, do you really think someone who cries like this could become an evil dictator?"

Shion gave him a grumpy look. "I haven't actually cried for ages," he said. "This is the first time I can remember crying this hard since..." He swallowed hard. "...since you left."

Nezumi winced.

"Why did you leave?"

"I'll tell you some day." All of a sudden, Nezumi couldn't wait any longer. He clutched Shion's face between his hands and kissed him hard, almost melting at the taste of him through the tears.

The kiss lasted a long time, Shion's hands curling into Nezumi's shirt and holding him there for what seemed like an eternity. Only when Nezumi began to feel that if they continued much longer he wouldn't be able to stop before they were both naked and writhing did he pull away, his hands remaining in Shion's hair and caressing his cheek tenderly.

Shion eyes filled with new tears. "I love you," he said. "That much hasn't changed."

Nezumi inhaled sharply. He hadn't been expecting that, and despite his deep need for Shion, it scared him.

He pushed the fear down. "You're everything," he confessed. It was as much as he could manage in that moment.

It was enough for Shion. He pulled Nezumi down and kissed him again as the delighted chirps of the three mice who had only just found each other echoed through the room.

"I still can't believe he just came waltzing back and you forgave him, Shion," Rikiga whined. "That rat has you wrapped around his little finger."

"'That rat' is right here." Nezumi bristled.

"Oh come now, stop fighting," Karan said, bustling in with a huge pot of stew. "This is supposed to be a celebratory meal."

"Celebrating what? That good-for-nothing's return?" Rikiga snapped, before he remembered who he was talking to.

Karan didn't appear offended. "Well, yes," she said. "But we're also celebrating Shion here too."

"Mom..." Shion complained.

"Don't be silly, Shion, we were all very worried about you."

"Speak for yourself, Momma Karan," Inukashi interjected.

"We were," Karan insisted. "You were getting very highly-strung. I was worried you might have changed so much even our miracle-worker here wouldn't have been able to get you back." She smiled at Nezumi. Rikiga rolled his eyes while Inukashi feigned violent vomiting.

Shion blushed, but replied, "I suppose you're right. I have been feeling much better. I think I'm almost back to normal."

"No more thoughts of immoral politics?" Nezumi teased. Shion shot him a furious look. He hadn't told anyone else about that yet.

Luckily, Nezumi's comment had been largely ignored. Karan was dishing out the stew and Inukashi and Rikiga were practically drooling, though over very different things.

Shion slipped in hand into Nezumi's under the table. "Thank you for bringing me back," he whispered, just loud enough for Nezumi to hear.

"Thank you for coming back to me," Nezumi replied. He squeezed Shion's hand before standing and raising his glass. "And now, a toast!" he announced. "To changes for the better!"

"To changes for the better," they all replied before drinking.

Shion smiled contentedly into his glass of champagne. He felt like himself again. It was like the past year had never happened, and he couldn't wait to see what the next one held for he and Nezumi. He knew they would face it together.

A/N: I actually wrote this a few weeks ago and wasn't that pleased with it. I'd just discovered the sequel thing to the No. 6 novels and was in a disgusting state of snivelling hysterics. I only recently remembered it, and changed quite a lot, made it a lot less melodramatic, improved typos caused by blind sobbing etc etc. As such, it might read a little disjointedly, but overall I'm alright-ish pleased with this fic. Not one of my best, but after three reunion fics I can't really expect myself to come up with something completely realistic and original AGAIN.

I hope you enjoyed nonetheless! Please leave a review and (hint hint) feel free to read my other No. 6 fics! Apart from Someday. I wrote that in a similar state of frenzy but then made the mistake of uploading it immediately after.