The Lonely Two. Through Time
"I need to know," he managed. "Tell me."
"Need to know what?"
"Boy, information's never free." A crooked grin, "Remember that, brat. Information is never free. If it is, it's a lie."
She lied.
She lied all the time. Her parents believed she was compulsive liar, she had always thought she was the best trickster around, the manipulator, the one in control, silent and in total control.
She could even bet you that she'd lie more in a day than each dollar she had to her name. What is truth, anymore?
Her name, was a lie.
Her family, her life, and her story. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to chuckle silently at the oblivious and naive view the girl had of the world. Of herself.
And of the idea of perfect.
Perhaps it was boredom or guilt of debt that let her into watching things, small things, things that she wouldn't lie about. So she watched, that mousy girl, average and special in her own way, the plainness of everything society thought average.
"Kaede-san." The girl, Haru, would call for her for every meal, every look of concern and care. And she would glare, as the girl unconsciously tacks on the verbal tick she hated.
Sometimes, she would wonder, as she watched the one sided conversations of Haru and her father, why she wasn't dead. Why things happen the way they'd were. And of always, why were there people like Haru to take in people like her into their households and reluctantly into their hearts.
She knew, that the father was a teacher, one that used to help Haru with her math and homework. Her mother passed away giving birth to Haru, and the girl had a complex, yes. She noticed, the small things.
That one side of Haru's mouth that wouldn't move when she was frowning, the dimples that flashed rarely nowadays, the large wrist bones that struck out like a structure. She noticed the deft fingers slice smoothly through fresh food, craftily twirl a pen around the fingers, she noticed the smoothness of her walk.
She had a hard time noticing, she had thought Haru wasn't meant to be noticed. The girl's gait was smooth and gliding, silent and as was she. Her existence took up little, it effected little, she rarely hear or see her in the room, yet she was always there. Just always there.
She noticed.
So, she decided not to question. Because she had learned through experience, that when you question the good things, the doubt, the possibilities, they will lose the good.
She would smile and share about herself, lies and truths. Sometimes, she didn't know the difference. She would look into big champagne coloured eyes that stared at her hard, she would feel young again, like a child being reprimanded by a mother. And she would look away and laugh, sometimes what she thought was true was far from what she had known.
It had been countless times, days, meals and bandage changes until she asked her, just when she came back from her friend, Tsuna. The sun dimmed and the sky rumbled in preparation for a storm. She sat, toying with the fly-aways of her prim bandages.
"Haru?" She called, her golden hair that she treasured were jagged and short, she wasn't sure if she loved it. Or her mother did, it was suppose to be important to her, so she decided it was. "Question."
"H-yes?"
"Why did you let me stay?" It was hard, she swallowed. She worried, she had been ready to cash in on the lack of thought and logic that had been put into the decision of her stay. She realized that they wouldn't throw out an injured person, she still was, technically. It wasn't hard to lie about such trivial things. She smiled.
"Will you leave?" Her smile wavered. The gentle patronizing voice that she had thought sounded like a teacher guiding a mentally disturbed student, she scowled.
"No, I'm asking you, why did you let me stay? Why do you let me stay?" She insisted, annoyance coated her words.
"Do you have anywhere to go?"
Abruptly, Kaede stood up and left. The room coated with silence of absence of the soul. The door slammed, Haru stopped. She dropped the knife she had in her hand onto the counter, setting the half peeled apple aside. Haru sighed.
She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel, brushing a hair from her face, she felt grim. The lights were off, the distant chatter of the crowd seemed so far away, or was it magnified the lack of presence in the house. A blue hue tinted the smooth beige walls, shadows danced.
Haru watched the room, to each bare wooden chair and the worn stains atop the mahogany table. A leaf fell from the small mint plant that bloomed under the kitchen window, she closed her eyes.
"Ha-hi?" She tried, after days of countless swearing, not so gentle hair tugs and verbal threats, Haru learned not to add her shrieks and 'desu' after her sentences. It helped, her own sanity, that is. She didn't mind the punishment that came with the usage, she welcomed it. The words felt foreign, she tried again, "D-desu?"
The sound echoed.
Haru picked up the half peeled apple, now yellowing under her gaze, like a flower wilting in sped up time. Her mind traced to Tsuna, his silent but turmoiled tendencies of being in his boxers and heroic deeds. She knew, that she had pulled him out of this depression, only to spiral into her own.
She sucked in air sharply, a fresh cut on her finger. The blood oozed out, she made no move to clean it. A fairly deep cut, Haru felt the distant stinging of the injury, she watched as the drop of blood grew in size. Suddenly staining the flesh of the apple in washed up tints of red.
She continued to cut.
Haru recalled that baby, with the fedora as she sliced the apples, hands still trailing blood. Perhaps she chose not to believe, just as she chose not to care of the details of the mysterious girl in her house. The mafia, she wanted to laugh, whether in disbelief or insanity, she didn't know.
Haru placed the apples under the stream of cold water, her hands numb and the water coloured red. Setting them aside, she opened the fridge. The yellowing brown of bananas reminded her of Kaede, who Haru found out was not a platinum blonde, but a dirty blonde.
She convinced herself that it was therapy, taking care of the girl. Distantly and numbly fussing over a stranger, and perhaps, to her, a stranger was the easiest. The smoothest and at the ease of her mind. Haru cursed silently, her finger slipped again, a shallow cut under her thumb.
Haru paused, her eyes tired, she felt like an insomniac. Sleep had not come to her lately, nor had happy dreams. Her wet fingers prodded the dark bags under her eyes, she closed them.
…
Several Hours Later.
Haru sprinted down the rode, her hair wild and free from their bindings fell into the natural corkscrews, her breath shuddering dangerously as she paused.
Ignoring the looks of the shoppers, she jogged and sprinted and panted her way past the shopping district. Tears running down her cheek, she bent to pick up a long piece of bloody wrapping that was once white, Haru heard her.
"Fucking bitch!" A coarse scream, "Let me go, fuckers! You have no sense of honour you pussies!" A slew of Italian, Haru cringed, she picked up her heavy body and rushed towards the voice.
A sudden impact and she was out, her hands still bleeding and her breaths still frantic, Haru slumped towards the inviting grounds of the grimy back alleyway.
She remembered the beauty of it, the smooth transition of what Kaede called Parkour. She recalled the light, the crisp feel of the roof as she stood awkwardly, watching the half injured female dance about the roves. Haru had thought it was like a bird free from its cage, like music being heard for the first time, and she had thought it was beautiful.
Haru remembered the effortless jump that had her screaming for help, the smooth display of balance and trust. The acceptance of death after every step captivated her, she watch passionately, begging to be taught.
A light shown upon her eyes, too bright to be that day.
Groggily, she sat up. She felt the cold, realizing it to be her lack of clothes, the sharp chill nipped at her limbs. Haru's eyes trailed to the bindings, thick plastic and a skipping rope were her makeshift shackles. Her head sore and her body numb from either the cold or the liquid fear in her veins, Haru didn't know.
Her hands, sticky from dried blood and her body bare other than her underwear, she screamed.
Struggling and pulling, biting and shrieking for help, for anyone, for a saviour. Haru's throat raw, her eyes dried and her heart pounded painfully, her wrists rubbed raw and her legs bruised from slamming into the ground.
She saw them watching.
Brute and tattooed, the old was balding and fat, the youth, grim faced and scarred, they watched her with interest. Haru shivered.
"My, what a pleasant surprise that bitch brought along, eh?" The man dragged from his cigar, the smoke chokes her. He walked tantalizingly close towards her, she whimpered, tugging on the restraints. "Like a buy one get one free, eh."
They howled with laughter, the man ran a hand on her shoulder, dragging it down her back. She wanted to cry, to scream but nothing came out, she wanted to go home. Haru decided to do what she had seen down, she spat.
"Are you a virgin? I betcha I can break yah in." A burning cigar pressed into her back, close enough to feel the heat, far enough from being burned. Goosebumps raised along her arms.
"She looks like a virgin, fresh blood." The youth supplied, Haru was feeling fear. True gut wrenching, brain freezing and death abiding fear. Faintly, she realized she wasn't afraid of death, but rather to live after this.
Her heart hurt, her body hurt and the fear pulsed through her, she shuddered involuntarily.
The deep grooves of his leathered skin pressed close to her face, she couldn't close her eyes to the wicked gleam in his dark, beady eyes. A glint of gold in his teeth, tattoos flashed before Haru saw stars. "You looking at me, slut?" He grinned, "I think she's looking at me funny. You think I'm pretty?"
She felt rings press upon her cheek as her head snapped back, she cried out. Haru felt the blood rushing, or the heat, she didn't know. Only to faintly taste the blood on her lips, it streamed down her cheek bones.
"Us good mafia folk will treat you nice, eh." He grinned, the indent of cigars constantly hanging on his mouth yellowed with the absence of one. The rope slapped the cement ground as Haru jerkily tugged and pulled on the binds. The raw scream of lack of energy echoed and carried, she sobbed.
Hysterical, Haru watched the man drag a cigar butt down her arms, before screeching with a voice she didn't know she processed as the burning cigar butt pressed into her side.
"You're pretty chick eh, I'll be gentle." sausage fingers tapped her back, she felt the trail of grim and sweat, the scent of smoke and weed choked her, "Pretty hair too, eh."
"We don't get to see many of 'em hair like yours," the younger one stepped forward, his hand tugged at her hair, Haru whimpered.
She shrieked as she felt the slimy heat of saliva and a hot mouth attach itself to her neck, biting and licking. Haru turned her head sharply only to butt heads sharply, her vision blurred for a second.
"Fuck!" He cursed, "You bitch."
He drew a hand back and slammed it into her stomach, Haru collapsed, only to be caught by the restraints in a tight awkward crawl and grovel by the ground. She peeked over the edges of worn leather boots as they attacked her sides, her body shook and shuddered with every breath.
Haru's hands cold, she touched the cool cement ground. The gritty grains of dirt and warm blood that soaked her hands felt sensitive to her skin. She relished in the coolness of the ground against her body, another swing to her sides. She gasped, feeling the blood pool within her.
"Don't fucking touch her!" Her eyes reached up, hands clutching each other as she huddled on the floor silently. Bloody and bandaged stood Kaede with a fearsome looking gun, Haru tried to feel relief.
She watched in horror as bullets pierced through the young bright haired teen, a mess of blood and bones left laying near her. The pool of blood gathered, she could feel its warmth on the cool cement. Haru's throat burned, yet she screamed, loudly and desperately she tried to say something.
Kaede covered her ears, the older male sprung into action and brought his own gun forward. He slammed into her, both crashing atop the metal cupboards that lined the walls, detaching one of the restraints in the process. Growling in triumph, he gripped Kaede by the bandages of her neck, like a scruff.
"Filthy bitches," he cocked the gun towards her temple, "Die-"
Kaede spun suddenly, sweeping the man off this feet. A loud thud, he landed hard in his elbows, crying out, he kicked his leg up. Slamming it into a hyperventilating Haru on the ground.
"Haru!" She shrieked, desperately trying to reach for the gun. Her senses slowed and her vision darkened, Kaede was afraid. Ducking a swing of a pocket knife, she skid to a stop to reach for the gun. "Run! Get out! Haru!"
The girl huddled numbly, half naked and eyes distant, she made no movement. Kaede screamed in frustration, she sighted the smirk on the balding's face, she raced to reach Haru. Whist he reached for the gun.
Slamming onto the ground harshly, her knees rattled. Kaede's fingers numb and trembled as she unknotted the restraints in frustration, finishing the last knot as she heard the familiar click.
"Don't move." He panted, sweat lined his brow and hairline. The necklaces that wrapped around his neck felt heavy and sweaty, uncomfortable against his skin. His hand shook ever so slightly, a blooming black eye on his right eye winked beneath the dim lights.
"Don't fucking move."
Haru stared, the saw over Kaede's shoulder, into the barrel of the gun pressed against the blonde's head. Kaede continued to untie her, her limbs frozen and heavy. She couldn't not move, in fear and injury, her body throbbed.
At the slight shuddering of Haru's shoulders, she shifted, accidentally knocking the blonde's knee of support.
A sudden jerk, Kaede fell.
Kaede's mind was weary, it was indifferent and unique. Her thoughts jumbled and words weaves through in enigmatic ways. However, it was not anything but the basic of human skill to recognize death. The sudden movement scared her, she grasped for something.
Bam.
She recognized it, death. Kaede slumped onto Haru, a hole in her head and wistful regret on her face.
She screamed. Haru's voice raw and bloody, she screamed. Her hands that sought the coolness of the cement ground felt hot, felt burnt. She stared into the empty eyes of the corpse that collapsed on top of her, a hand gripped her neck tightly, pulling her from beneath the body. Blood trailed down her body, soaking her underwear.
Haru wasn't sure, her mind was muddy, her body even more so. Her hands burned, she held them up, feeling immense pressure she opened her hands to see a weak glow, golden. Yet dark.
Not beautiful. Streaked with black and dark shadows, the meagre tainted gold winked in the dim light. She felt not the hand that latched itself onto her neck, nor the heated barrel of the gun that pressed into her forehead.
Haru's eyes mesmerized by the flickering light no larger than her thumb, she reached up to touch the man, who had not yet spotted the glow.
It was dust, a beautiful grey.
Haru slumped down, once back on the grainy ground of the cold dark and bare room, comforted by the past warmth of a sheet of ash, the sticky blood of regret and the dead body of a once friend.
She fell.
"You're really flexible." She remarked, poking the smaller girl's back as she stretched, "You're kind of strong too."
"Haru is in the gymnastic's club, desu!" She chirped brightly, earning a death glare and a sharp thump to the head.
"Don't use third person!" She hissed, she punched the girl roughly, "And stop using desu! You're not fucking three!"
"I wouldn't be able to say it if I were three." She mumbled, yet nodding obediently.
"What was that?" A snarl.
"Hahi!" Another punch, "N-nothing. D-"
"Get to work, damn it."
"H-hai." A hesitant hovering at the door, she nervously glanced up at the glowering girl, "Ano."
"Well?" She snapped impatiently, "Spit it out!" Immediately, a tinge of guilt as she softened and beckoned the girl to continue, "what is it?"
"What would do you think Haru should dress up as this week, desu?" She chattered on happily, "Haru's thinking of an octopus, but Haru already has a costume for it, desu!"
"Go make food. And shut up."
"H-hai."
She found herself on the floor, covered in thick ash and sticky with the remnants of dried blood. Haru tried to cough, only to have thick blood appear on the floor, a tangy metallic taste filled her mouth.
She scrambled to stand, leaning atop the cool metal closets, Haru recognized her own nakedness. The room covered in a layer of ash, a fallen gun, a suspicious lump in the ground and bare lights, she surveyed the door.
Shakily walked towards the lump that looked suspiciously like a body, she lifted a shaky hand and wiped the inch of ash away. Haru couldn't look away, horror and fear filled her mind as she desperately threw herself away.
In front of her, blonde and blank eyed was the dead body of Kaede Ito, a former Mafioso. Blood trailed from her forehead, the bullet wound gruesome, she swallowed tears and snot thickly. Catching a glint in the light, Haru slowly leaped over and wretched the metallic object from the body. Shrieking as it flopped uselessly, the chain snapped.
In her hand was a small pocket watch, golden and smooth, the elaborate embroideries around the cover, opening up in sleek circles to show the Roman numerals. The centre was open, the silver hands danced as a clear sight of the golden gears rolled under the open cover. It was warm, Haru gathered the chain onto one hand, clutching it to her chest.
Haru's body froze, she heard the distant sounds of human voices and footsteps. Diving into the dirt, she searched for the discarded gun beneath the dust, frantically clawing nothingness, she listened to the footsteps closing in.
Throwing herself to the side as the door opened, she gripped a pocketknife, shaking and shivering involuntarily. Adrenaline pulsed through her, Haru's mind flashed towards the dead eyes of Kaede, fear shot through her. Identifying new people in the room, she charged between them suddenly.
Her bare feet slapped against the cement, rubbing raw as she approached the gravel ground. Her body still half naked, she raced through the hallways as calls and shots ran through.
A sudden burning sensation to her arm as she realized she's been shot, warmth and hot liquid pulsed towards the wound. Another grazed her side, a trail of fire across her right. A third entered her left thigh, piercing her leg as she hobbled forward. In desperation, she turned and flung the knife forward. Feelings stab of triumph as she heard the distant cry, her eyes grasped for the light as Haru burst through the door, into the street.
She smiled, hands still clutching the pocket watch. Panting and ignoring the shrieks for help, Haru collapsed. She grinned wildly at the ground, her cheek pressed into the fine gravel. It was cool against her flushed skin, she chuckled wildly. Her mind miscellaneous, and soon to be dark.
The blood seeped, she smiled. Haru closed her eyes in the warmth.
The warmth of the darkened night sky, the humming of the ground, the heat of her own blood, and the darkness of her mind.
She smiled.
She awoke to the quiet humming and sounds of a bustling business place, Haru sat up. Her body fresh and clean, the bandages that wrapped tightly on her smelled clean and felt new. She squinted in the light, she sat up.
The room was lonely, it was a dark night, the moon shone past the meagre blinds. Haru touched her head, her hair, now shoulder length, swished at her collar bones. Her arm, she noticed was stiff and numb. Haru felt something gripped tightly in her hang. It moulded into the shape of her fingers, the imprint, the smooth yet delicate features that pressed hard into her hand.
She used her other hand to pry it open, a chain slipped down her fingers, warm and smooth. It was long and silver, a sturdy chain that heated to her body temperature. Connected to it was a pocket watch, heavy and weighted. The body and cover was coated with elaborate carvings, the centre opened up in intricate curves to show the 12 Roman numerals and the fragile golden gears beneath. The knob was of antique style, silver and curved, she pressed it gently, a soft click as it opened. The light shined off the moving gears, her eyes trailed to the designs behind the cover, still beautiful.
The hands raced before her, the chain rattled with blemishes in the metal, the pocket watch smooth as day and warmed to her hand. She fit it back into the imprint made on her right hand, she smiled gingerly.
"You're awake." She looked up, a petite, sharp looking nurse headed her way. The woman's features severe and the tight low bun tucked in the wisps of grey. In her hands, a tray of food, and tucked beneath, a clipboard. "Ohayo, I'm Nurse Aiko. You may call me Aiko-chan."
Somehow, she felt uncomfortable with the familial names, she nodded. Haru let the woman be professional, to not connect with her, to not know her, to just be another patient. She studied the packaged bread and watered down soup held atop the metal trey, Haru set the chain in her lap.
"Honey," the sugar professional voice comforted her, she let the professionalism sweep her away, "What's your name?"
She paused, "H-Haru." She settled, "My name is Haru."
"Your last name, Hun?" The ink pen scribbled, Haru's hands squeezed the bread absentmindedly. It cracked.
"Mira, Haru M-Miura."
"Do you have trouble remembering your name?" A look into her eyes, Haru's refused to meet the gaze of the nurse. The prominent domineering presence requires the truth, she will not give in.
"No."
"Alright, so, Haru-san, do you know what happened?"
"I'm not sure."
The nurse tried again, "Can you tell me what you know?"
She was careful, Haru noted, not to use the word 'remember'. "I was in the street, and I don't know."
"Before that?"
"Before what?" Her hand entangled themselves with the chained pocket watch, abandoning the bread.
"Do you remember what happened before you were in the hospital? Before from were found on the street." She huffed, a smile still on her face.
Haru paused, she looked out the window. She remembered the game she played when she was little, trying to remember the show she had watched during the long endless commercial breaks. It was like that, she had thought, trying to sweep through the thoughts.
"Ash. There was ash, a-and a girl." She paused, "And skipping ropes. T-he ground was cool. "
"I see." Another scribble, "what is the date today?"
"April 12." She couldn't recall the last time she sighted a calendar.
"Honey, today is May 28th."
Haru paused, her face expressionless. "Oh. I suppose it is."
"Is there anyone I can call? Family, friends?"
"I-I don't think so." Haru gazed at the elm trees, it's leaves fluttered with the cool wind. "What are my injuries?"
"Alright, so your injuries, dear. You have 14 stitches in your back, 7 under left rib cage, 3 just under your hairline, and 4 on your left arm. Three cracked ribs, a bullet wound on your left thigh and arm, mild concussion and severe internal bleeding." She stood up, Haru looked at the woman. The clipboard tucked neatly beneath her arms, and a few wisps of hair escaped from the tight bun. "A police man will come to ask you a few questions, okay Hun? Just sit tight, Haru-san."
Haru looked away, her hands sweaty, a small metallic scent wafted through her nostrils. She looked down at the grainy chain in her hands, the metal warm and suck to her skin. Following her hands, she spotted bruises and small cuts that littered her arms. A thin line of dust beneath her fingernails and particles of grey specs as she ran a hand through her tangled hair.
"Ohayo." Thick haired and golden threaded, Haru watched the lanky man, foreign and swaggering steps, make his way into the room. "What do you remember?"
She blinked, he sighed and dug through the pockets of his dark washed jeans to flip open a badge. "Ohayo, Im the policeman that will be asking you a few questions."
He was handsome, very much so. A scar divided his left cheekbone, adding to the magic of the bad boy persona. Haru blushed, she eyed the thin button up and the lack of notebook. Rather, the lack of everything she expected a policeman to have. Sparking blue eyes and a crooked grin, he pulled out a cigarette.
"So, what do you know of what happened?" He leaned against the window, not facing her. "Please try to do the best you can, it will only help us help you catch the perpetrator."
"I-I don't.." She trailed off. It didn't feel right to remember, she tugged at the memory. It was just a blurry slab of a scene that she held no connections to. "There were 2 men."
"Yes? What did they look like?" He turned to look at her questioningly, she noticed the long and thin chains and necklaces that adorned his chest. Several disappeared beneath his shirt.
"I can't remember." Haru slipped the pocket watch beneath her blankets, out of the view of the policeman. She could, remember faintly of the details. The run towards the girl, this bandaged girl, who was she? Haru remembered the bindings and the cold cement floor, the cigars and smell of smoke.
"Alright, so I'm going to ask you a few specific questions." He interrupted her thoughts, eyes serious and the easy going smile seemed more like a mask than ever. "Do you remember the thick layer of ash layering there? Do you remember what happened?"
The light danced on his blonde locks, the dark undertones almost tainted the near angelic look he emitted. Haru recalled the fear, the cold, cold fear. She turned away and shook her head.
"I see." A desolate grin, "Was there a girl with you?"
"I don't know."
"How did you escape, from the room? They were holding you captive, and tied you up with rope."
"I was saved."
"By who?"
"A girl."
"You said you didn't know of a girl."
"I don't remember her."
The tall man shifted, his pace brought him to the front of the bed. Haru looked at him, eyeing the low bulge on his chest connected by a chain. An easy going grin, "Alright then, thank you, I believe your emergency contact will be here shortly. Thank you for your cooperation and you will hear from us shortly. Enjoy your rest, Haru-chan."
She blushed, nodding.
The room's warmth left with him, the sun had just hid behind the clouds, leaving the melancholy atmosphere. Haru's eyes suddenly felt heavy, she drifted and soon fell into her own oblivion.
Of memories.
Age 7.
A little boy stacked the numbered and lettered blocked neatly on top of each other, his face set in challenge and tuned out from his classmates. Suddenly, a small body crashed into his structure, he cried out.
"Hey!" Large blue eyes blinked down angrily, tears threatening to fall at the sight of his ruined work, "That was mean! I'm telling!"
"Imouto! I-I'm sorry, it was the accident." Large caramel eyes gazed down apologetically, "They pushed me, b-but you can still tell the teacher on m-me."
A group of boys giggled from afar, calling out, "Don't make excuses, Tsuna!"
"Don't make fun of him!" Tears trailed down his face, "I'm telling! Tsuna, I worked hard on it. I'm telling Kaa-san!"
Tsuna's head bowed low, he stood awkwardly in front of his brother. "D-do you need h-help rebuilding it?"
"You're gonna ruin it again! Go away." He snubbed, plopping himself down and gathering the blocks again. Tsuna stayed, he sat across from the tears boy and eyed his expression, gathering the blocks that were out of reach.
Eyeing the numbers, "Imouto, i-is there a p-pattern?"
"Yeah." He declared proudly, "Papa said it's called pie! He says I'm a genius for remembering the first three numbers!"
"Oh." Tsuna didn't know what to say, he fidgeted with his pants and watched the ground.
"Tamaki! Come play with us!" The boys called out, they giggled at Tsuna. His brother stood up, a wild grin split his face, tears and structure forgotten.
"Tsuna, can you please clean this up?" Remembering his proper words, he sprinted off towards the boisterous boys.
"B-but it's recess." Tsuna started, "I-I want to p-play."
Big brown eyes studied the pattern, shifted one block and left the pattern to be found by another. He found a spot under the tree, watching the boys run amuck, without him.
Three one four.