It wasn't like Sasuke had any better ideas, although he did shoot a frown at Labrador's back. A spoon, a fist, a disk seemed uncreative, too obvious; their relationship was based on what they were, not what they did, and emotion wasn't something that could be depicted in an image. He chewed on the inside of his lip, looking over Frau's drawing again, the spokes of it and the circular shape.

The two of them. Something meaningful, personal. He sifted through the most vivid memories he had of the relationship--the first morning, watery blue and cold and raw, clinging to each other as though to keep from drowning; whispered conversations in almost-total darkness, tucked in a nest of blankets and creating for themselves a safe haven within the storm of constant nightmares; embracing in greeting, tinged with relief that they were both still in one piece, still here, still together.

Still fighting.

Then, suddenly, he knew--as though it had been there all along, waiting for him to bring it to the surface.

He took hold of the pen and furiously began to sketch on a blank corner. A circle. Cloud-like patterns and swirling waves. Black and white and white and black, one dark, the other light. The moon.

When it was finished, he recapped the pen and leaned back in the chair, letting his eyes slide shut.

"Koi," he said, breathlessly. "Balance and overcoming adversity. Strength and fortitude. And--"

He opened his eyes and went back to the paper, scribbling down two characters. "Koi-bito. Beloved."