The sun rose and Ira was ready. He opened his eyes, the alarm ringing in his head to wake him up. Last night, while waiting for the sun to rise, he had fallen asleep in his chair.

He stretched as he got out of the chair, grimacing at the stiff state of his body. It cracked again; this body was very prone to cracking.

Ira yawned and pressed his hands over his tired eyes. Sleeping in a chair, even a beach chair, wasn't very comfortable. Then he stretched out his whole body, jogging a little in place to make sure that his legs were working right.

He ran.

Straight toward the prey that he had been keeping a watch on all night, Ira ran as fast as this body could. The prey had been up all night, tense and afraid, and it took it a while to figure out what was happening. During that time, Ira had already crossed over half the distance. His feet thumped on the grass and small twigs as he almost flew over the backyard.

The prey stumbled over his own feet as he hurried out of his hiding place, desperate to get away. He had already seen Ira catch two people, and it wasn't a pretty picture. He gulped when Ira got closer. Ira could see his throat move.

Unbiddenly, a savage grin split Ira's face in two. In joy, he smiled.

He couldn't contain his excitement as he caught up with his prey in a few quick steps. Shifting his weight, he dropped his whole body on top of the prey, the two of them dropping to the ground like rocks. Satisfied, Ira grinned sharply.

A bone cracked in his prey's body.

Loudly, the noise rang in the back garden. The sound was quickly followed by the prey starting to wail. Sobs shook the thick frame that he was sitting on and Ira narrowed his eyes. While it was always amusing to watch humans cry, it wasn't something that he actually derived pleasure from. It was fun for a while, but it got old quick. And Ira's preys had been doing quite a lot of crying so far. He was starting to get sick of it. The novelty was wearing off.

Scowling harshly, lra stepped off of the human and dusted off his hands on his robe. He stretched his shoulders and turned around. "I'm done," he announced. "That was the last one, right? I'm going back to my room."

He didn't wait for a reply. Ira walked back to the house, following the porch leading all the way around it. He decided not to go through the main building, and to simply keep walking along the raised wooden area around the entire structure until he found his way back. Once there, he entered through a sliding door.

Ira glanced at the map, but he saw nothing alarming. All the assassins had been caught and with the game over, Fumiko was no longer following him around.

When he checked in on his Host, there was nothing strange there either. His Host was in the company of his alpha in the alpha's home, watching a movie and cuddling on the couch. To be honest, the mission actually seemed to be going pretty well for his Host, even if neither of them appeared to have honest feelings for the other. The mission, after all, wasn't to fall in love, or to make the alpha love him. It was simply to entice an alpha into a relationship and use the innate possessiveness of alphas as a way to force them to protect Ira's Host. 

In short, the alpha was a human shield.

While Ira watched, his Host stretched languidly on the couch, which made the shirt he was wearing fall down over one of his shoulders. Why the alpha's eyes would immediately be drawn to the sight, Ira didn't understand. But he assumed that it meant his Host was doing good.

Though it was a nice novelty to have a Host who appeared to actually be focusing on the mission, Ira didn't have any faith in them. He had been doing this long enough to know that the first impression of a human could never be trusted. And with his request for an older Host mercilessly denied — he really should have seen that coming — he didn't feel as if he had any hope left to rise.

Still, his manga depended on this.

There could be no slacking. He was seriously doing his work, and that was what his reports would show.

The sporadic audits on his missions would show this as well, because Ira had never bothered to hide anything from the inspectors. Since he had yet to be fired, he assumed that he must be doing something right.

What that thing was, he had no idea. 

But that was probably his fault, since he had never actually gotten around to asking.

Dropping down on the couch, Ira grabbed the remote control and turned the TV on. He spent a couple of minutes just sapping through the channels in search of something interesting, before he found a program called The Real Omega Housewives of Tokyo. Intrigued by the clunky title, he drew his legs up on the couch and settled into a more comfortable position. The program had only just started.

During the next hour, Ira was treated to the sight of five omega housewives (four of which were men and one was a woman) getting into increasingly petty arguments without each other, as they presumably did their best to murder each other, without actually killing one another.

The husbands of these housewives very rarely appeared on the camera, and most of the time was spent on following the omegas — and to a lesser extent their children's — daily lives. Their obnoxious wealth was shown off to ridiculous degrees and Ira both hated and loved the show. Hated, because it was basically everything he hated about humans. And loved, because it was hilarious watching humans making fools of themselves.

The best part was that they seemed completely unaware of it. They honestly thought that they were the perfect example of elegance and poise. Ira was pleasantly surprised when a new episode quickly followed the end of this one.

He made one quick to the kitchen when there was a commercial break to get popcorn and a can of soda. Humming on his way back to the living room, he glanced at the map to make sure that he wasn't missing some new assassins. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he sat himself down on the couch just as the commercial ended.

It was a case of a tv series being so bad that it became good. Or maybe that was just him. He was aware that his tastes weren't the most common.

Bringing his legs up under him, he leaned his whole weight on the armrest and splayed out possessively over the couch. The bowl of popcorn was in the gap between his lap and the armrest and the can of fizzy soda was in his hand. His eyes followed the motions of the people on the TV screen as he watched it intently.

He was in the middle of drinking the last of his soda when he was alerted to the fact that he was no longer alone. By the fact that Silas suddenly stood right in front of him, right in the way of the TV.

Scowling, Ira tilted his head to look around Silas. When that didn't help, he demanded, "Move."

"This is the welcome I get when I hurry home early to make all those cookies and cakes that you demanded form me?" Silas rose an eyebrow and smiled, amused, at him.

Ira consented that it was rude of him. "Welcome back," he deadpanned. "How was your trip?"

"Eh, it was good. Nothing special." Silas moved around the coffee table and sat himself down next to Ira. He threw and arm around the back of Ira's head and leaned over, his body tipping toward Ira's. Ira frowned and moved the bowl of popcorn closer to himself, curling protectively around it.

Silas let out a sudden burst of laughter. His body shook with the force of it and he leaned more of his weight onto Ira. When this only made Ira moved his soda can so that Silas couldn't steal it, Silas kept on laughing.

"You're a marvel, Ira," Silas stated in between the spontaneous bursts of laughter. 

When Silas finally calmed down from his madness, he took to just looking at Ira. A soft, quiet gaze that felt like it was penetrating his skin came from the his side, and Ira skillfully ignored it. Another commercial break came on and Ira finally looked over at Silas properly. 

It didn't look like he had been injured. In fact, he appeared to be in prime health. So then, why was he acting like a madman? Ira frowned when his latest grab for popcorn came back with nothing and when he looked down at the bowl, it was to discover that it was empty. Scowling, he stretched out and put the bowl down on the low coffee table.

The soda was out too, so he put that down as well. Then he leaned back against the backrest and pretended like he had no idea that Silas' arm was curling closer around Ira's shoulders. In the interest of all things delicious, some things would have to be sacrificed.

It would be worth it.

Still, the minutes were ticking on and Silas still weren't moving. Finally, Ira couldn't take it anymore and inquired, "What about my muffins?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, Ira could see Silas looking over. Then Silas smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. "Do you want me to get started right away? I thought you'd appreciate my company for a bit first."

"I have appreciated it. Now I want chocolate cupcakes," Ira stated.

Silas kissed him on the cheek. Ira could feel his smile against his skin and frowned, confused. What was Silas so excited about now? As Silas stood from the couch, Ira kept on looking at him with a bewildered expression. Sometimes he just didn't understand Silas.

Fine, he never understood him. Humans were just such a strange combination of complicated and brainlessly simple, and he had long since ceased bothering with it all.

"I'll go make a chocolate cake, in celebration of coming back home," Silas said and gently patted Ira's shoulder before he left the room. Ira glanced after him for a second before his attention returned to the TV. The commercial break was over, and Seiko-san was in the middle of explaining why she didn't like her kids asking their father for permission for stuff before asking her.

Ira could not be less interested if he tried. But he kept on watching and soon, his loyalty was rewarded as two of the male omegas got into a vicious fight at a gala.

It was a pity that they didn't get into a physical fight, but it was fun watching them destroy each other with words too.

By the time that the tv show was over, the smell of chocolate had started drifting through the house. Ira uncurled his body and stood up from his seat. He frowned at the pinpricks in his legs and stared resentfully down at them for a moment before deciding to ignore it. Then he wandered through the hallways toward the kitchen.

Like he had expected, Silas was there, in the middle of putting down the brand new chocolate cake onto the table. When he saw Ira traipsing into the room, he threw him a distracted smile before concentrating on what was in his hands again.

Ira walked over to the table and stared at the cake, practically salivating. "It looks delicious," he said.

Sitting down on the chair closest to it, he picked up a spoon. 

"No," Silas said and gave him a harsh look, his amusement betrayed by the twitching of his lips. "Wait until it cools down some."

Ira attempted to change Silas' mind with that weapon called pouting.

He did not succeed.