The last time Ichigo was in this room, it’d been when Zero Two had first started staying with them. That was when things were different, but so much simpler—messy and emotional and always tension-filled, but still simpler.

The situation now isn’t so black and white or cut and dry, no matter how much all of their façades make it seem.

Ichigo mourns the less complicated times where she had scolded Zero Two about the pajama dress-code, had made her bed nice and neat with clean sheets, and then asked to talk to her outside in the rain. Where she had screamed at her and then slapped her right across the cheek.

At least back then, they didn’t have to hide and pretend like everything was okay. These days everyone suffers in silence, and puts up a happy face to show the rest of the world.

Ichigo hates to admit it, but she feels her squad falling apart at the seams.

Maybe that’s why her legs had carried her to Zero Two’s room, and why she now presses her ear against the door.

It’s quiet inside, only Zero Two’s happy, gentle humming providing white noise. Her hand reaches out subconsciously, and she knocks twice sharply before pulling herself away from the door. The humming stops, and some blanket shuffling happens.

”It’s open!” comes Zero Two’s bright voice, and Ichigo hesitates, biting her bottom lip. But she creaks the wooden door inward nonetheless, swallowing hard.

So she steps inside carefully, her nightgown ”Z-Zero Two—“ Ichigo realizes she’s stuttering and quickly clears her throat. Then coughs in spite of herself. “Err...” Her eyes dart around to Zero Two on her bed, the sheets clumped up, with her chin resting upon a pillow as she sketches in a small book. There are bigger pieces of paper with colored drawings all over the floor. “Is this a bad time?”

A sweet little smile draws the corners of Zero Two’s lips up. “No, I’m going to stay up anyways.” Ichigo steps closer curiously, anxiously—because although they had made amends quite some time ago, and although Zero Two gets on well with all of them now, she still feels...bad. Awkward. Mostly (fully) because of her own stupid actions. “—Sit down, I promise I don’t bite.”

Ichigo blinks, eyes flickering up to look at Zero Two, who’s sitting up now and patting the spot net to her. There’s an innocent grin blossoming on her face that makes her expression look unusually dorky. “O-Oh, thanks...”

Zero Two hums and then laughs, and Ichigo feels at ease when she sits down on the mattress, crossing her legs. They’re facing each other, and then Ichigo suddenly feels a prickle of intensity at the base of her spine. She straightens up.

”Something wrong?” Zero Two’s voice is low and all too knowing. Ichigo feels like she’s being scrutinized by her when she’s facing her wholly like this (like she’s as small as an insect). “You look like you’re thinking about something. Or, ah, like you want to say something.”

Ichigo’s legs shift. She looks away, down at the blankets and then at the warm light of the candle on her shelf. “Well...” This flustered feeling makes no sense. She supposed it has something to do with her...feeling as if she’s failed as leader. And the fear of acknowledging that, of expressing her deepest worries. Ichigo doesn’t want to seem—weak. “I was just thinking about what Hiro said earlier. At dinner.”

”Mmmm...” Zero Two’s jaw clenches slightly, her expression turns sharp and somber. It’s not like this is something that’s easy to talk about, after all. Especially only a few hours after the fact. “We’re all feeling uneasy, aren’t we? It’s hard to have faith when nothing’s getting done.”

”I don’t like sitting here blind,” admits Ichigo suddenly, with such certainty in her voice that Zero Two’s eyes widen a fraction. “There are things we’re not being told.”

One of Zero Two’s hands reaches up and pushes some strands of her blush pink hair behind her ear. Then: ”We won’t die.”

Ichigo looks up from the where she’d been staring into her lap, and offers up a curious look.

Zero Two is looking at the flickering candle, the light reflected back in her pupils. Her expression is ominously solemn. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? But we won’t die. None of us will. We’re stronger than that.”

Ichigo is grateful that Zero Two had been the one to spit it out; she hates the admission of anticipated defeat. A sigh lets out from Ichigo’s pursed lips. “I want to believe that, too. I guess... Hiro gives me hope for the future when he talks like that. So do you, you know.”

Their gazes meet, and Zero Two blinks twice rapidly—like she’s doing a double take. “That’s...sweet of you to say.” A slow, soft half-grin forms on Ichigo’s face, and then abruptly Zero Two swings her legs over the side of the bed. “C’mon, let’s sit down here. We can still talk, but I wanna color some drawings...”

Ichigo follows suit, her feet gracefully patting against the cold wood when she jumps up, and she watches Zero Two shuffle the textured sketch paper that’s already on the floor. Now she’s lying down on her stomach, colored pencils laid out next to her, and Ichigo quietly taking a seat and awkwardly pulling her knees up to her chest.

Zero Two picks up a bright violet pencil, making a small “Ahh!” as she brings the sharp tip to the paper. Ichigo moves a bit closer to her, so that her side nearly touches Zero Two’s, but she doesn’t watch very intently—she doesn’t want to seem like she’s hovering.

”So,” starts Zero Two, who sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth slightly as she colors, “there’s still other things on your mind, right?” Zero Two’s become better at reading people, Ichigo notes. Or maybe she’d always been like that, and she’d never noticed until becoming closer to her.

”...I don’t want our lives to be meaningless.” She mumbles it into her kneecaps, shaking her head. “I don’t want my life to be meaningless. Maybe—maybe what Hiro says about our lives having more of a purpose than just fighting in the FranXX is true.”

The sound of Zero Two’s colored pencil stops, and out of the corner of her eye Ichigo sees Zero Two look up at her. “It’s true. We can do so much more. Living like this, without piloting, you see that too, don’t you?” Ichigo nods, legs slipping down so they’re stretched out in front of her. Zero Two smiles very subtly, then turns her attention back to her drawing. “Good. I think we can all make our lives worth something more than just this.”

”Zero Two...” Ichigo’s voice fades into nothing, and a pale blush sneaks onto her cheeks—so she snaps her head to face the other direction, and lets out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “You’re right. I believe we can, too.”

”Mmhmm.” Zero Two finally sets her colored pencils down and lifts herself up into a sitting position. “I want to do so many things, and go to so many places. I want to draw like this all the time...” She brushes off some eraser shavings, and then lifts the finished product up. “What do you think of this?”

The artwork is a delicate drawing with thin lines and soft colors, all complementing each other exceptionally well. Hiro had told the others about Zero Two’s knack for drawing, so it’s not like Ichigo’s surprised, but...seeing her create a piece in real time is certainly breathtaking in its own right. The subject matter is a purple butterfly, simple detailed but with simple coloring. It almost looks like it’s real, pressed to the page. The butterfly rests on a bright ultramarine-colored flower, with vibrant petals that extend toward the edges of the paper.

Ichigo is awestruck. Zero Two can tell.

She offers the paper to Ichigo, urging her to take it. “For you,” Zero Two says with a laugh, and she spreads her legs out in front of her like Ichigo is.

”Thank you, it’s—it’s beautiful...” Her fingertip moves to trace the pale lines, sketched with pencil, and then runs over the smooth feeling of the colored portions.

”—What kind of things do you want to do, Ichigo?” inquires Zero Two, just as she’s dropping each colored pencil back into their box.

She doesn’t quite know why, but a cold shiver runs up her spine, and once it reaches her nape it spreads to the rest of her body. The cold shifts to warmth, though, and then rests in her cheeks. Ichigo clears her throat, and very boldly says, “I’ve always wanted to at least have a proper kiss—a real kiss. I want to know what it’s supposed to feel like. That’s what I want to do, so I won’t die with any regrets.”

Say it out loud, it seems silly or childish—Ichigo’s almost certain that Zero Two will giggle at her, but all she does is look at her fondly and smile. It’s a warm, gentle, homey smile.

”Oh? So that’s your dream? I can show you, then.”

Ichigo feels her heart thump rapidly in her chest, because—she really didn’t think Zero Two would ever offer something like this. “R-Really?” Ichigo’s voice comes out as a squeak.

Zero Two nods vigorously, then places her hands on Ichigo’s shoulders and swivels her body around so they’re facing each other. Ichigo melts under her touch, relaxing her posture and breathing in deep. Zero Two’s hands slide down her shoulders, then caress her slim hips, until one palm finds Ichigo’s thigh—and Zero Two promptly looks up at Ichigo for assurance, who nods without a second thought.

Her warm hand flits underneath the thin fabric of Ichigo’s nightgown, and climbs up to her inner thigh. Zero Two rests her palm there, her fingers slowly caressing Ichigo’s skin as they both inch closer.

Ichigo is shivering, her own hands fumbling with anticipation. She brings her arms up to lock around Zero Two’s waist, letting them hang loosely. Zero Two, meanwhile, takes her free hand and lightly brushes her lips with one fingertip. The proximity feels like nothing.

Ichigo lets herself go, succumbs to the feeling and closes her eyes delicately as she leans in, closing the distance. Zero Two meets her halfway, diving in as soon as Ichigo puckers her lips. And that’s when Zero Two’s hands lift to paw at Ichigo’s back, then clutch her lithe upper body gently. Ichigo’s own fingers run through Zero Two’s hair, which smells of strawberries and fresh flowers and is as smooth as the finest silk.

Some odd feeling bubbles up in Ichigo, filling her to the brim; Zero Two caresses every inch of her, but careful not to push her boundaries. She lets Zero Two explore for a few moments, their actions only illuminated by the sensual candlelight and the silver moonlight streaming in from the window.

When Zero Two pulls back, Ichigo almost asks her to do it again.

”—You really didn’t have to do it, you know,” says Ichigo, who’s feeling a little guilty.

”But I wanted to. You didn’t force me or anything, believe me.” It’s clear just from her tone that Zero Two isn’t lying. She leans in again, but this time gently bops Ichigo’s nose. “It’s okay. I hope you’re feeling a bit better, at least.”

”Y-Yeah, I just— I’m sorry you had to do that with someone who’s not special.”

Zero Two frowns momentarily before smirking, and then waggling her finger like a mother. “You’re special to me, though. Like I said—I really wanted to kiss you.” Then she winks, jumping up and grabbing the artwork she’d gifted Ichigo all in one motion. “It’s time for bed now, don’t you think?”

Ichigo gets up herself—rather ungraciously, with a lot of scuffling—after yelping from the sudden movement, and rubs at her bleary eyes. Zero Two holds out the picture again, and Ichigo takes it gratefully. She walks all the way to the door before turning around and saying, “Th-Thanks for, well, everything, Zero Two...”

”Sure. You can come here any time, Ichigo.” Zero Two steps closer, arching her neck down and planting another warm kiss against Ichigo’s cheek. And now Ichigo’s blushing even more, a striking crimson color painting her face. “Good night.”

The door closes behind her.

Ichigo walks back to her room with the paper firmly grasped in her hands, and her lips still tingling from when Zero Two had kissed them.