(AN: This story is being written for Glarinetta. She messaged me asking me to write this for her and it's a pleasure. I hope she's happy with it as she reads! And anyone else reading, of course. Some ideas are hers, including the main idea, and some are mine. Enjoy!)

Lacrosse season begins again when the weather cools down. Guys huff out spit and water while they run their shaky legs across the field for. Malia is in the stands, waiting for us to be finished with our session. First line is a big responsibility and Scott and I have to maintain it. We swing our sticks ahead, wailing balls into the goal, pulling our shoulders out with each one. Kira is running suicides with Danny. Back and forth they go, Kira moving faster than him, ripping up dirt with her agile form. Using fox fire in a game is an illegal move, right?

Malia doesn't know much about Lacrosse, so we bring her down and let her play when practice ends. We've been trying to bring her back into a human life. I stand behind her, her hair tickling my face, and guide her through the directions to swing the stick to make a goal. "Grip it here," I tell her as I wrap her hands under the net and at the bottom. "You ultimately want to be able to shoot with one hand, but this is fine." I move the stick back and let her hands go. "Now whip it over your head." Malia brings the stick back further as she's watched us do so many times. She puts her foot down in front of the other in a stride and sends the ball across the field, the net traveling over her head just like I instructed.

"Oh my God!" She yells and bends to put her hands on her bare knees. The ball made it just outside the goal.

"Yeah! You're getting it!" It's always fun showing her new things. She tries to pick them up as fast as she can, craving knowledge and trying to please everyone with how quickly she's adjusting into the life of a teenage girl.

Kira gets out her new camera and snaps a few shots of the players when she's done running. She's careful to only take them of Scott when he's looking to the side so his eyes don't blind the entire picture. There are a few flashes around Malia and I before she sets the camera down.

Before too long, the gang hops in the jeep, Kira and Scott in the back. They hold hands but nothing is serious yet. If battling Oni together isn't serious, I don't know what is. I'm still not sure what Malia and I have yet, but it's working through its issues. Issues like abandoning the pack in the midst of danger because "everyone should fend for themselves." Again, it's a work in progress.

We take a back road instead of the main one I would take to go to Scott's house. Malia gazes out the misty window and into the woods. I expect her hand to come up, to try to touch it. I know she misses running on four legs, being warm covered in a fur coat, and feeling the chill of the hunt on her teeth. I so often feel like I cheated her out of a life she loved. We can only hope she loves this new one even a fraction as much as her wild one.

I drive past the Tate mailbox and up the dirt road into the now familiar scattered trees of her front yard. "Coming to the game tomorrow?" I ask before she gets out. For a moment, I fear that she'll say no because I know how she hates being crowded.

"Sure. Sounds fun." It'll be her first game. I like being the one to give her all her firsts. It feels like an important job.

"Goodnight, Malia," I say when she pats the door from the outside, telling me to turn the key.

I'm left sitting alone in the front now. "Kira, you're next." Scott and Kira don't live far from each other, so it won't be long. I'm happy for that, seeing as my arms are like jelly after practice. Scott would normally spend the night after but we have our first game of the season tomorrow and we both need a full night's sleep.

Kira gets out at her stop, giving Scott a hug when he gets out to sit up front with me. Only a hug. He looks at me, a little pained, but keeps his complaints to a huff and "I don't want to push her into something."

I pat him on the back once. "You'll be okay, Scotty-boy."

After I drop Scott off, I'm finally home. Dinner is in here, bucko, is written on a sticky note posted on the microwave. Parsley potatoes and baked ham sit on a plate, still a little warm. I can always trust my father to make foods so high in sodium. But I can see he took one of my ready-made healthy lunches with him to work this morning, so I'll give him this one. A little intimidated by his cooking, I take a cautious bite. Good enough for a starving lacrosse player it seems, because I take it up to my room and sit down to the research on my desk from yesterday.

I can barely keep my eyes open enough to read the first paragraph, so I put it down. I debate on listening to music, but I choose the bed instead. Lying down after a long practice always feels like a big breath of fresh air. My air is still a little damp from showering at the school but it shouldn't be a big deal. I don't think we even own a blow-dryer anyway. A wet pillow will have to do.

As I'm swallowed up by my blanket, I hear buzzing being muffled by sleep. It's pulling at my ears and I realize it's more of a ringing sound. The most annoying tone imaginable is coming from my bedside table. I leave it to be answered in the morning. I'm too far out of it now.

The rays of sun slowly work their way into my room. My dad bustles and moves downstairs. He takes morning shifts in the fall so he won't miss my night games on Fridays. I reach for the phone that had bothered me all night. It's all a little blurry, but I can make it out. A message from Kira dated two minutes after her seventh call, and five calls from Scott. Kira Yukimura rolls across the top of the screen over the caption, "you need to see this." It's a photo of Malia and me, playing together last night. My eyes finally settle on the orange cloud illuminating my entire body.