It was a little strange, thinking of what to do by myself, planning out what to buy, what to cook, when to clean, when to study and actually sticking to it. Sometimes I procrastinated. Sometimes I outright broke my own 'schedule', sometimes I wasted money and just went out and bought takeout. Well, I did alright. I'd been living on my own for a year already when the letter in the black envelope came in. It wasn't much different.

Okay, it was a lot different, but I had some experience to fall back upon. And after 'want' became 'need', I started following my rules a hell lot more.

I was 15, turning 16 when I managed to apply for emancipation. It took a shitton of studying and working part-time in order to convince the court that I could make it on my own, but I managed to surprise myself. I hadn't thought I was capable of such a feat—I knew I was lazy, undisciplined and absolutely lousy in time management. The pot of money I was left with also helped smooth the way. It was a good thing the will didn't have a specific age requirement.

Though I guess they had expected to live a lot longer.

In any case, I finished my studies six months later, got my diploma, and was debating between continuing my studies while living off my inheritance and getting a job right away to accumulate some proper work experience when the other black enveloped letter came in. I was a little confused though. I didn't know I had other relatives to be killed off.

Turns out I did. Sort of. It was this grandaunt a few times removed whom my parents had kept in contact with. I'd even visited her before when I was young, though the memories were blurred and fuzzy at the edges. There wasn't anything in particular that stood out.

So.

I hadn't really gotten over the first letter yet (I'd probably channeled some of that grief into my studies, which is why I did better than even I expected. First Class Honors. Huh. Who'da thought it?) and so I was still feeling all the tenderly sappiness that made me a lot more appreciative of family relations. Which was why I decided to take the trip to Namimori to attend the funeral and give my condolences.

Turns out, it wasn't just my condolences I had been contacted for. No. Dearest Granny left behind a 10 year old grandson. Apparently his parents had died a few years ago and she'd been the one taking care of him. And the only relative they had managed to track down was…

Bingo. Me.

16 year old emancipated minor with a diploma cert. Being emancipated and holding a professional qualification made me eligible to take over this kid's care. More digging around revealed that the reason they had gone out of their way to find someone to care for the kid was because of the HUGE inheritance the parents had left behind. Too bad they'd expressly stated that custody was to go to a relative—any relative—before they resorted to foster care. Huh. Looks like these parents had expected to die early.

Well, okay. I was still a little mushy and soft inside and the letter that came with the will was pretty moving with all the 'family comes first' and 'blood is thicker than water' stuff that was in it. I'm pretty sure it was referring to dear granny—they obviously hadn't expected her to kick the bucket so early—and even if it wasn't I'm pretty sure they didn't have someone like me in mind when they were writing it.

Come to think of it, they'd probably been expecting my parents to be his guardians…

But anyway, I was pretty touched by the letter, and I knew what foster care was like. I'd spent a few days there waiting for the verdict, wondering anxiously if they'd let me continue studying, hoping to god that they'd let me out of that cold, clinical place where children younger than me had eyes older than mine. All that talk about 'caring volunteers' and 'experienced social workers' in the pamphlet? A whole crock of crap, in my humble opinion.

Sure, they fed us (the same crap everyday), they clothed us (with clothes from the Salvation Army), they gave us a roof over our heads and beds to sleep in (those were like beds of ROCK lemme tell ya) BUT, they didn't give shit about us. We were just 'investments' to continue the economy—to grow up into working adults and contribute back to society. There was no care, there was no backtalk, what you get from the state is what you have and don't you complain because this is all taxpayer's money!

…Right.

By the way, when I got the letter and went to the funeral, there was this government guy who gave his 'sincere condolences' and then proceeded to harangue me about what I needed to decide for my future. AT MY PARENT'S FUNERAL. It was like, I am sorry for your loss. BAM. There are a few things you need to read and decide from now on…

It was… I couldn't even… ARGH.

So I seriously felt for this poor kid, who would most likely be going through the same damn thing, except that he was only TEN.

The decision had already been made for me. I was taking care of this kid.

xXXx

The day I met my new 'ward' (and boy did they try to convince me otherwise) it was a beautiful day. The sun peeked through clouds, the morning dew sparkled on the grass. There was even a rainbow hanging there. I felt worse. It was like the whole world was conspiring to mock this funeral.

And yes, I knew the feeling too. It would have been better to have it pouring really.

So I was driven to the gates of a pretty cozy-looking traditional Japanese house with a handful of papers and an envelope of koden. I'd tucked some joss sticks away in my Mofuku—I couldn't believe I was the closest relative available—just in case.

Boy was I glad I did.

When I stepped into the house, it was nearly empty. The funeral had been organized by the town council, but boy was it meager. Obviously they hadn't gotten permission to dip into the boy's coffers, because there was hardly anything there. Hardly anyone too.

I'd barely entered when I was stopped by a furious, steely-eyed boy. His raven-black hair was nearly standing up from anger, and his sharp grey gaze was impressively intimidating. It was a surprise, how calm he was for a kid, though his hands trembled and his breathing was heavy. His eyes weren't puffy, and he managed to address me tolerably politely. Well, for someone who was grieving and dealing with the contemptible bureaucracy.

"What are you doing here? Who are you!" He eyed my mofuku with disgust. As I had expected, really.

I figured the kid had received the same platitudes and 'condolences' I had been given, so I did my best to convey my sincerity. I bowed low, stepped forward and pressed the heavy envelope of cash into his hands. His eyes widened a little in confusion. The poor guy was probably at a loss.

He was pretty short, and I didn't want to talk down to him, so I knelt on the ground—yes, my mofuku got dirty and crap—to address him.

"I'm a relative from Tokyo. Your grandmother was my grandaunt on my mother's side and they kept in contact while they were still alive." I said carefully—not patronizingly—, watching his face as he twitched. When he didn't yell at me, I carried on, "I'm the only one left and I came to offer my condolences. I am sorry for your loss."

He examined my face carefully as his hands tensed and twisted around the koden. I could tell he was gritting his teeth a little as he struggled to accept the words. It looked like things had been difficult recently. I forced myself to wait patiently.

He took a deep breath, nodded sharply, and turned around—presumably to lead me to the altar. I didn't take offence, just stood up, brushed my kimono, and followed.

When I reached the altar, I was rather outraged myself.

The priest was sitting there chanting sutras, but the funeral flower arrangement was just downright pitiful. It was seriously tiny and the only incense burning in front was probably the kid's.

What the hell.

I bit my lips from blurting anything stupid, but they trembled in indignation. I had to blink a few times and swallow before I could turn to the boy who had been standing cautiously beside me, "Can I offer some incense to her?"

He hesitated as his eyes roved around the room. The longer he stood, the more he tensed. It was kind of obvious that they hadn't bought enough sticks for visitors, not having expected any. Before he could get apoplexy or a seizure, I hurriedly pulled out the incense sticks from my sleeve. He subsided, but his eyes burned with anger and chagrin.

He's only TEN you BASTARDS.

Feeling as if I had to make up for the lack of people somehow, I knelt fully and kowtowed three times. I didn't know her very well, but I was the only other person here. If nothing else, I couldn't let someone who shared my blood suffer so. I stuck the sticks solemnly into the pot and bowed. Then I sighed.

Now came the hard part.

xXXx

"There's something else I came here for." The girl's tone was apologetic as she approached him again. He felt his eyes narrow.

He didn't recognize her, she wasn't anyone he knew. He'd never heard of a cousin before. They didn't even look alike from what he could see. Her eyes were not Hibari grey, instead a dark brown bordering on black and they were almond shaped instead of his own cat-like ones.

He was sick of people from the council offering their stupid apologies and condolences and trying to talk to him about this paper and that account. He wasn't stupid enough to sign anything, and he hadn't agreed to anything, and he was not going to accept any of their pitiful 'help'.

He'd live by himself if he had to. Or run away. Or something.

His so-called 'relative', Tojita Izumi, had been pretty convincing in her sincerity, but he was still skeptical. After so many pandering flesh bags, he was running low on patience.

"What is it?" he questioned bluntly, congratulating himself for keeping the weariness out of his voice. He resisted the urge to sigh and rub his face.

When she took out another sheaf of papers from her sleeve and sat down carefully, he couldn't prevent the snarl. He was sick of this. Grandmother was dead. Why couldn't these irritating vultures leave him alone?

Her voice was quiet as she smoothed the papers in front of him, "I'm sorry for doing this to you—it's pretty shitty when people pester you after someone has just died—but this is important." She held the front sheet closer, "The truth is I didn't know about your grandmother's death until the government sent me a notice. It's true—we're not close, but apparently I was the only one left."

He swallowed his irritation as she spoke. At least she was being honest with him, though he didn't like the fact that she had come for something other than his grandmother's death. It wasn't exactly her fault if she had received the notice—he hadn't missed the implication that her parents were dead.

"I'm the only blood relation they managed to contact," she elaborated, "and so… I'm the only one eligible to take custody of you according to your parents' will."

Kyoya felt his rage explode.

xXXx

"GET OUT OF HERE!" He yelled, pushing me away. Obviously, I had struck a nerve. I knew this wasn't going to go over well with him. It sounded suspicious by itself—like I was eyeing his fortune or something. And the way the government had taken pains to contact me was already odd.

I took a deep breath. I don't take well to people yelling at me and I have a horrible temper. Must be a family thing.

"Calm down, Hibari-kun," I murmured when his roaring died down. I was pretty sure he was going to throw himself at me with how worked up he was. If I hadn't been a spitfire in my own right, or understood the feeling of having to put up with greedy, grabby vultures, I'd probably be running out the door with my tail between my legs. As it was, the kid had an evil glare.

I flattened the crumpled sheets again, "This is important. The government isn't going to let this go if you don't decide what to do. You're too young to apply for emancipation and they won't let you stay here without supervision. You'll be sent to foster care."

I eyed him cautiously as he continued glaring. "Personally, I find it pretty weird that the only relative they managed to track down is a 16 year old emancipated minor." At his startled glance, I added, "Seriously, I can't believe it. I was still deciding if I wanted to further my studies when the letter came in."

Now he was eyeing me carefully. I was impressed. For a ten year old, he was really mature. I beckoned him closer, "C'mon, I want to explain everything clearly."

xXXx

Kyoya was still cautious. Really, he'd be a fool to take her for her word. He toyed with the idea of chasing her out, but a wave of fatigue washed over him and he had to force himself not to slump. She'd been the first to offer a proper explanation and not cower at his anger.

He stalked over to the fallen girl and sat in front of her, crossing his arms.

He saw her lips quirk before she presented the papers again. Pointing at several highlighted parts, she began explaining.

As his parents had taught him, he watched the speaker as much as the content. Listened to the nuances in her voice as well as the words themselves. It seemed she had done her research and examined the papers extensively, her voice was confident and she didn't stumble. It was a point to her that she genuinely wanted him to know what it was all about—all the adults had tried to hide things from him.

When she tapped the paragraph from his parents' will that had been highlighted and underlined in bold, he smirked. It was obvious that they wouldn't have allowed their fortune to fall into the government's greedy hands. Although, he agreed, they seemed to have not taken into account Grandmother's own death.

It was a ridiculous idea. An adolescent raising a child. No doubt a ploy to gain access to his inheritance. Even he couldn't believe that he had only one relative left, who was coincidentally an emancipated minor to boot.

Compared to the others, though, he preferred her voice. He preferred the honesty and the bluntness and the empathy he could see in her eyes. She didn't have to adopt him—would probably face a lot of difficulty doing so—and the will made it clear that she couldn't touch the money. So it probably wasn't out of greed that she had made the offer.

"I know it's going to be difficult," she told him grimly, "but I've been in foster care and it sucks. And if you go there they get the right to bill you for it—which is exactly what they want. You're just ten years old, so it's impossible to apply for emancipation."

She took another deep breath and stared at him determinedly, "I can't say that I'm the greatest role model or the best care taker, but I have been able to survive for a year by myself. We don't have to worry about money because we'll get an allowance from the bank—not a lot, but enough." At his dark look, "No, see here—it's only enough to cover food and necessities. I'm still getting a job. I've access to my inheritance, which I don't really want to touch because I still want to get a degree, but it'll be some insurance. The government can't deny my ability to support you financially that way."

She cleared her throat and pointed, "Your parents already willed you the house, so we could stay here—I'll do the housework. That takes care of residence. As for education, you'll continue studying in Namimori Elementary. If you need any help, I could explain stuff I guess."

As Kyoya examined the sheets spread out in front of him, she fidgeted nervously. He reread everything—it was all true. She'd answered all his questions and done her best to cover all grounds in order to combat any objections. There was nothing he needed to do but accept.

Was it too good to be true?

He hesitated, staring at the papers. He was putting his life in this girl's hands. His trust. His well-being.

He looked up.

There were dark circles around her eyes, and she was biting her lip. Unlike the people who had marched into his home with smug confidence, their hands and lips full of empty plans and vague promises. Her hands were gripping the pieces of a solid, detailed layout, even though they kept fidgeting and twisting the fabric of her mofuku.

Eggs and vows are easily broken, his father had told him once, judge people by what they have done, and not what they say they will do.

This thin and tired girl, who had come from Tokyo despite not knowing him, who had researched and read his parents' will to explain it to him, was offering to take his burden and informing him exactly how she would do it.

He nodded.

Her reaction was more reassuring than if she had smiled in relief. She closed her eyes and took a fortifying breath. "Okay," she nodded, "okay. It's decided. Okay."

When she reached over and carefully enveloped him in a hug, he felt his chest loosen, just a little, as he breathed in the scent of the incense she had brought.

xXXx