It might start with a smile – something tentative and beseeching thrown her way, leaving handprints on her heart with silence left in its wake. It might appear like the bandages do on their faces, unexplained like the tears in Haru-chan's eyes, but understood all the same. It could happen as she listens to the absence of noise at night from the room below hers, or occur in the morning when the bento she makes has no owner to claim. It will be all but certain in the times when she will walk home alone, and in the wake of an sunset spent waiting on nothing, she will close her eyes and remember.
It may begin in any of those ways, but it will go like this:
It will be a morning where the boys will be counted absent, and long after the teacher has cared, since anyone has cared. One of them may be present – Yamamoto-kun, if any of them, but there have been times when it has been only Tsuna-kun or Gokudera-kun and she could only wonder why – but ultimately, it will not matter. A weight will settle in her chest no matter how many times it occurs, and Hana-chan's eyes will always narrow dangerously.
Her friends will be distant, for not even her demeanor can bring back the usual life in her smiles, but Hana-chan will be there. She will not say much, she never does, but she will know to keep conversation light and that is all she could ever ask of her.
She will wonder, and Hana-chan will let her.
She will look at the empty desks and pray for their safety, but she will think of broken promises and how hard the virtue of patience can be to keep. She will gaze down at her book and instead of equations, she will see the algorithms for reaching out and catching hold, understandable if only for her lack of comprehension. She will look at Hana-chan and wonder how many years it will be before she starts to keep her hair short, but in that, she will wonder how many years it will be before a man pulls them apart, who keeps his silence and keeps her friend waiting in the dark.
She will not cry, but she will think on futility, in both changing the future and falling out of love.
It will become an afternoon in which Hana-chan pulls her away and decides they will be going somewhere: it might be the bookstore, the cake shop, or something else, but there will never be any thought for argument, just like there will never be any thought to return to an empty house. She will feel relief, not enough to overcome her musings, but it will be enough for everything else. She will have a friend there for her, and she will feel less alone than before.
The only uncertainty is this:
She might take Hana-chan's hand, or she might not. She might choose to keep a distance between them, and no matter what words she may say, they will rest on the border of friends and strangers of friends. It could happen that she breathes an apology instead of an encouragement, whisking off to attend to plans that don't exist or to wait for a brother who will never show. No matter what, it will be certain that she will feel gratitude, and she will smile, not quite perfect but the best that she can do.
It will be a day like every other.
Kyoko will smile with the burden she bears, but there will be no hesitation in the hand that curls around hers.