Izana had woken up in a bad mood, eyes lidded and lashes heavy as they stared irritatingly at the harsh red glare of his alarm clock.
It was already 6:24 and both him and Mikey along with the rest of the executives were needed in a few meetings occuring at least hours away from home and the gangs HQ.
For some reason even with the good amount of rest that he aquired, there was still this uncomfortable tingling sensation that settled in the pit of his stomach.
It was another one of those gut feelings that he usually gets whenever something is going to go horribly wrong, the last one he experienced was yesterday morning, hours before Mikey got that bullet wound on the side of his abdomen.
Izana never did like that feeling, he still vividly remember the horror that came over him the moment when one of the Tokyo Manji Gang members cried out his brothers nickname in a panicked state. It was like being doused in cold water except if the water was replaced with the news of another one of his brothers being dead.
He sighed heavily, his chest throbbing before he turned to his side to stuff his face into his comforter, the scent of her favorite detergent filling his nose and comforting him instantly.
Izana learned a long time ago that even without her presence near him, any trace of her at all was enough to calm him down (its a certain quirk that many of the S62 were able to notice and took advantage of whenever he started acting up).
He sighed once more, this time in content as his warm blanket guided him back down to earth.
Peaking an eye open, the time then staring back at him before he finally decided to get up and about.
Izana ran a hand through his hair, waves of platinum locks falling onto his forehead and obscurring his vision.
He blew a soft puff of air into the bangs that hangs low as he stalked outside of his door.
His calloused hands slipped under his shirt and rubbed at his refined stomach, he sniffed, nose scrunching before he stopped dead in his tracks.
Mikey, across from him froze, his hand that gripped her door handle fell to his sides as he blinked at him sheepishly. "Good mornin'." He muttered before making a beeline towards his room.
Good morning? Izana doesn't think so. Not only did he wake up feeling upset but now he's coming to find his own brother emerging out her bedroom doing god knows what.
Izana irked, hands clenching and unclenching as he followed his brother in fast and rushed strides. "What were you doing in there?" He demanded, voice low and dangerous.
"Sleeping." Mikey simply answered before ignoring his ever growing manic brother and opening his doors room and attempting to shut it in his face but Izana was able to stop it from fully closing with an outstretched hand. "With her?!"
Mikey leveled him with a glare. "What do you think? It is her room." He replied back, prying his hands off the frame before succesfully shutting the door uninterupted and without crushed fingers.
Izana inhaled a deep breath, physically restraining himself from kicking the door down and chopping off his brothers blonde hair. He always loved it, for whatever reason (not that he should be talking in the first place). "Ok." He muttered once he calmed down making a move to head straight to the only females room before he stopped once more at the sound of a muffled shout from Mikey.
"You should get some glasses soon, you're getting old!"
Izanas eyes twitched. "I'm only thirty, you brat!"
"You're the brat!"
Sometimes, sometimes his younger brother just tested him too much, he thought before going back to truge to his destination, opening the door to her bedroom without hesitation.
Izana took in her flinch, eyes wide as they settled on his frame before going back to her calm demeanor.
His eyes slid downwards, she was already wearing her blue scrubs.
Before she could even say anything, he was already in front of her. "Lift up your shirt." He demanded casually, fingers gripping on the hem of the fabric.
Bewildered, she swatted at his hand. "What?"
"C'mon, lift up your shirt, I've seen you naked before." He insisted.
She deadpanned, eyes unamused at his morning antics. "We were seven, Izana." She told him with an eye roll but proceeded to follow his unsual request.
Izana eyed the expanse of her stomach, smooth and untouched, free of any blemishes from the rough handlings of calloused hands that wasn't his.
"Good." He whjspered to himself, turning her around and inspecting the soft arch of her spine, ignoring her small yelp of surprise at the sudden movement.
Once he was done, he straightened her shirt up for her, a small hum of satisfaction leaving his lips at his findings, or lack thereof.
She gave him a weird stare. "What was that for?" She asked, moving to her desk mirror and brushing out her tangled locks, fingers delicately handling her hair.
Izana hummed, allowing for his head to fall to her shoulder, hands coming up to grab a hold of her hips possesively. "... was just making sure no one touched you yet." He muttered, lips lightly grazing her skin.
"Right..."