Graft - "to insert a bud of a plant in the groove or stem of another plant in which it continues to grow."
I am such
a small thing, but I
sink so heavily.
01
.
It was not the family reunion Hana had—unrealistically—envisioned.
Even Kyoko—warm, honest, Kyoko—embraced her the way her mom did when she went home for the holidays; quick and tight then suddenly loose, regarding her from a distance, eyes hesitant, as if demurely broaching a favor from a stranger. "May I claim to know you as you were?" was the question she heard as she stared at the back of Kyoko's head, her vision going in and out of focus as she blinked away the moisture. Hana did not know this long-haired beauty. She only knew Kyoko—simple, strong, sensible.
Time had not charmed TakeSushi into anything other than a worn-out, albeit bustling, sushi bar. The navy blue-turned-grey cloth hung from the doorway, clean but severely frayed, always smelling of tart rice vinegar. Takeshi's father smiled at her from behind the counter as she entered warily over the creaking floorboards. The wrinkles of senility etched into his forehead reminded Hana that she ought to hang up her blouses before sleeping.
The night was young, but there was a fatigue in Hana's bones that ached for a home, not a high.
Kyoko led her down a flight of stairs Hana hadn't noticed before, to a basement level. Hana held her tongue, trusting her friend to explain in due time just where they were heading that they had to take a dank, musty tour through an underground tunnel. The once-white walls were caked in a neglected shade of brown and the air held the sour scent of sulfur.
"Pleasant smell, I know," Haru snorted behind her, offering a smirk as they exchanged amused glances. It was a minute gesture, an icebreaker if anything, but still it slackened her stiff shoulders.
Kyoko paused before a bolted metal door. Turning to her brother, she nodded towards the lock.
Ryohei set Hana's purple hibiscus suitcase on the ground with surprising softness and shuffled forward, his shoulders squared. He fumbled with the keys, however, and Hana had a notion the scene would stick with her for a long time. There was something consolatory about his clumsiness with simple tasks, something familiar.
She longed for a warm, quiet place to put her thoughts to rest.
.
.
.
It turned out the basement served as a bunker of sorts; the entire hallway was lined with sullen black doors. The corridor was unpaved, and the sound of feet scuffing the crumbly earth filled the tunnel.
"You'll be safe in here," Kyoko broke the silence. Hana held her breath in anticipation as the door swung open, revealing a sparsely furnished, well-kept room. In one corner was a single bed swathed in red quilts, and beside it a simple nightstand supporting an unassuming lamp. The walls were a pale, creamy shade of beige. Directly opposing the bed was a closet, and beside its doors stood an oak dresser above which hung an oblong mirror. To the right of the bed was another door, leading presumably to a private bathroom.
"I really appreciate this," Hana exhaled, gliding over the mahogany floor tiles.
"I'll leave you to settle in for the night," Kyoko replied, smiling nervously. "We'll talk in the morning."
As the door eased shut, Ryohei threw her a backward glance, gaze lingering on the ends of her hair.
Hana looked away with a tightness in her chest.
02
.
"This is the only evidence he left," Kyoko spoke, handing the note to Bianchi.
The forensic analyst unfolded the crumpled paper. I know the truth about your Namimori friends. She crinkled her brows. "Whoever's targeting the Vongola wouldn't be so careless as to leave fingerprints behind. This guy's probably just a messenger."
"We could still compare his fingerprint to the database—"
"She meant," Gokudera cut in sharply, "that the man is disposable. He's either on a new job elsewhere or dead in a trunk."
Haru flashed a disgruntled look to her left. "So what do we do?"
The Vongola boss leaned forward as all eyes fell to him. "What did you say Hana studies?"
"Toxicology," Kyoko supplied. "She mentioned she was being bribed." Her hands clenched the edge of the wooden chair, but her voice, remarkably, was unmodulated by the tension.
At a loaded pause, the storm guardian voiced what no one else could bring themselves to: "Someone's out to get us through Hana."
Haru's right hand sought Kyoko's below the table.
"Since our guy approached Hana at her university, we can assume his people wanted something in the toxicology department. Access to something. Through the lab or through Hana herself." A thick silence descended as Bianchi continued, "If they wanted to steal, they would have. I'm convinced they wanted to recruit Hana. They could have forced her hand if they really wanted to. The fact that they chose instead to bribe and bait her implies a psychological front." She stared into her interlaced hands atop the table. "They either wanted to unsettle us by threatening Hana, someone whose safety we are personally invested in, or push Hana's frustration and confusion towards us into resentment."
"You mean they want to play good cop bad cop?" Haru inquired skeptically. It seemed preposterous to her that the men and women who would like nothing more than to be rid of the entire Vongola family would proceed to do so by donning sheep's wool.
"Something like that," Bianchi nodded. "If we assume Hana knows nothing of the mafia networks around her, the situation becomes dire. It could turn into a race to secure her trust. Whoever tells her first will have the claim to truth."
"Hana wouldn't believe their lies," Kyoko asserted steadily. "She's got a good head on her shoulders."
"But how would she recognize a lie if she has no reference to compare it to?" Gokudera challenged, stirring his black coffee with a spoon. "Luckily we have the advantage right now. She's here with us. We can tell her anytime. All we need to figure out is how much—"
The brunette slammed her empty ceramic mug down. All but Gokudera bristled with surprise. "Will you quit talking about her like she's some chess piece? She'd hate it even more if she found out we were using her to get ourselves out of a messy situation."
"What else are we supposed to do?" he snapped, mouth pulling into a scowl. "She's already become the focal point of the next inevitable confrontation."
"I have an idea."
Takeshi sat up from his slouch, his shadowed face coming into view under the dim light.
"Let's tell Hana what we've just discussed. Once she realizes that by associating with us, she will put herself, and those around her, at great risk, she might reconsider her desire to know. It will be tough on her either way, whether we tell her or not. But she has to be the one the make the choice. If she wants to go back to university and carry on with her life, we'll protect her. If she still wants to know, we'll tell her, on the condition that she stays with us until this passes."
Tsuna considered this for a moment, then said, "It's a wise plan. Let's try it tomorrow."
Ryohei said nothing as they disbanded, each heading to their respective rooms in their makeshift headquarters. The old base had been a provision of CEDEF's. When Tsuna finally accepted his role in the family, he was determined to build it up from scratch, with his own power. Hibari had pitched in a hefty sum and they built another underground base an extensive elevator ride below the sushi shop with help from Giannini (and Gokudera, whose explosive tendency had aided in the clearing of space).
Tsuna had worried that the location would unnecessarily endanger the sushi shop, but after witnessing the future, Takeshi had been adamant about sticking close to his father. The old man had scoffed and retorted that he hardly needed protecting, but Takeshi would not budge.
In the end, Haru had persuaded Tsuyoshi to consent to the building of their base.
No one asked her how she did it, but they assumed it had something to do with the fact that she, too, bore no small burden of guilt over her negligence in the future.
.
.
.
Ryohei swung at the heavy bag in the training facility, knees bent and weight packed behind each punch.
He used to come down here to avoid thinking, but he found that he inevitably thought and fought the same way, so why not do both?
Weaving in and out under the dim lighting, he mulled over the new addition to their base. Seeing her with her hair cut short had shocked him. It had reminded him of—of the future he had treated so (uncharacteristically) cautiously. There was a strange anticipation building within him, and it made his footwork erratic. If things were going to turn out the same way whether he tried to prevent them or not, wouldn't it be better to speed them along to see where they led? Would it better to just go with the flow? Messing with the future was indeed a tricky business.
Ryohei was simpleminded, but he was also a keen judge of character.
Which was why it unsettled him that he couldn't judge Hana. He trusted Kyoko's judgment, but all the same, she was such a reserved girl. He never quite knew what she was thinking, and she seldom offered to share. How did he ever end up with a picture of her, smiling like that?
When Kyoko was out sick in high school, Hana ate alone in the classroom, since most of the others had flocked to the rooftop during the week of unusually warm and sunny weather. She was always staring out the window, so she didn't notice when Ryohei was shoved into the room by a couple of boxing cohorts, all snickering around mouthfuls of rice. "Did you really start studying at midnight last night?" Ryohei insisted that he had. "Oi, why are you so proud? You barely passed!" A taller boxer cuffed his head, then slung an arm around his shoulders. "Alright, let's celebrate your mediocrity with hotpot. Our treat to our barely-passing kohai."
"Wait a sec, I gotta get my water bottle." A long-haired, soft-spoken guy Hana recognized from her homeroom rummaged in his schoolbag before nodding at the others. "Got it. Let's go." The group of boys pushed and shoved one another out of the classroom, jostling desks and chairs in the process. Hana glanced to Ryohei just as he clapped the long-haired boy on the back, laughing about happiness being a choking hazard. He met her gaze for a brief second, grin freezing on his face as he took in her expression, remarkably unguarded and vulnerable.
How was he supposed to remain simpleminded when she looked at him like that?
Like she envied him for his carefree happiness, for his confidence, for his boisterous energy, his bruises on his knuckles, his scar on his left ear, for being him.
Like she begrudged herself for her stubborn solitude, her impenetrable wall, her stilted conversations with her own parents, for always bearing their expectations, for being her.
Like she was lost.
And would never, ever, admit it, save for that brief second when he met her gaze and hers was wide open to read.
Ryohei finished off his workout with a strong left hook, the thud ringing in his ears as the heavy bag trembled. He reached for the off-white towel on the metal bench and roughly wiped his forehead and neck, still panting with exertion.
Thinking too hard had never done him much good, anyway.
03
.
It all felt very surreal.
Reality was waking up with a waffle texture on her right cheek from falling asleep on knit-sweater arms over a much loved, much abused textbook.
Instead Hana blinked awake in pitch blackness, reaching for her phone next to her pillow. Dawn had broken over Namimori but in a room untouched by light, she felt no recognition of the fact. With the flick of a lamp switch, a soft glow illuminated the small room. She squinted, vision swimming.
Were the others similarly unable to sleep? If so, what troubled them? What creased their brows?
She knew she had inconvenienced them with her arrival.
Despite the unease curdling in her stomach, she exhaled in relief; it had been months since she'd fallen asleep within an hour. Ever since Ando Minoru, she had walked home from her part-time job at the pharmacy glancing over her shoulder at every scuffle behind her, a little too frequently to be discreet. The university offered a night shuttle, but the thought of getting into an empty vehicle with a stranger behind the wheel left her even more paranoid. She left the genkan light on in her studio apartment for fear of coming home to an eerie, unknown space. Her electricity bill was climbing, but as long as she worked longer shifts on the weekends, she could manage it.
Several seconds passed as she shifted her weight to her back and stared at the boarded ceiling.
Then, pulling the warm covers aside, she slowly sat up and approached her suitcase near the wardrobe.
She had forgotten to hang up her blouses.
With care, she unrolled the crisp, dark-colored blouses (navy blues and indigos and violets) and matched each one with a white, plastic hanger. The repetitive action was therapeutic, and Hana quickly lost track of time as she hung up the fall clothing, forcibly not thinking of the research paper due in a few days (which she had received permission to turn in electronically), of her parents who still assumed she was halfway across the country, of the appointment she'd made (then canceled) with her professor for that evening—but of the simple transferal of objects from one point to another.
Unroll, shake, hang, button up, repeat.
She had only showered and brushed her teeth before going to bed; there was still much to unpack.
When she was at last left with an empty suitcase and straining thighs from rising and kneeling so many times without pause, she yawned into the back of her hand and climbed back atop the bed, checking the time once more before switching the lamp off, head ringing and eyes aching.
6:48 AM. She would rest for another twelve minutes, then face the day ahead.
04
.
There was something otherworldly about walking into an old, empty sushi bar alone at 7:30 AM with the first morning light filtering in through the paper doors. The light was pale and did nothing to warm her bones, but it calmed her nerves all the same.
Hana chose a bar stool and waited, feeling distinctly out of place.
She thanked whichever deity happened to be listening when Kyoko appeared from the kitchen with a steaming cup of tea in each hand.
"Morning," Kyoko greeted with a small nod and eased into the stool on Hana's right. "I'm surprised you found your way back up here from the bedroom. It's a bit of a maze, huh?"
"Thanks," Hana replied as she blew lightly on the green tea. "Are the others awake?"
"Ryohei is. The rest are asleep. He's an early riser, my brother," Kyoko smiled fondly. "The complete opposite of Lambo, who has to be prodded with a stick before he even stirs."
Hana scrutinized her friend, cringing when her headache resurged with vengeance, throbbing at her temples. "Lambo…?"
"Oh," Kyoko glanced up sheepishly. "You might not remember. I introduced him to you once, the loud little boy in cow print."
Hana unlatched her jaws to respond but a metallic crash from the kitchen cut her short.
Kyoko looked to the kitchen just behind the counter. "Ryohei? You okay back there?" The man in question peeked out from the blue flaps at the entrance and grinned, giving them a thumbs-up. How anyone could be so spirited so early in the morning escaped Hana.
"Extremely okay. Just flipping the pancakes."
Kyoko laughed, and Hana stifled the pang of loneliness prickling the base of her throat. She had woken up to utter stillness and solitude for hundreds of mornings, accompanied only by the rumbling sound of the water boiler, the sizzle of vegetable oil in the pan as she fried an egg, and the steady stream of water from her neighbors showering on the other sides of the walls. The sweet smells of maple syrup and pancake batter were not elements of her routine. Laughter was even less so. But habit had made a home out of her solitude. It had raised her.
"I'll take care of breakfast. Why don't you sit with Hana for a while?"
Hana's brain froze on two simultaneous observations.
One—Kyoko was no longer sitting by her side.
Two—Ryohei was rubbing his neck awkwardly and coming closer, still wearing an apron.
Hana swallowed with some difficulty.
Ryohei took Kyoko's seat, shuffling the stool more to the right before settling down, legs fidgeting and fingers drumming on his knee. After a painfully awkward five seconds, he seemed to recall his state of attire and quickly untied the apron, fumbling with the knot.
She tried not to catalogue his features, not to note the off-white nasal strip at the bridge of his nose, not to decipher the scribbles on his forearm ("eggs, 1% milk, green onion, sushi rice"), not to discern the sweat beading at the nape of his neck, not to stare at the flush at the tips of his ears—she tried not to but she didn't try very hard. He had never been so close to her before; there were four or five inches between their shoulders.
Hana cleared her throat once more. "Thank you for letting me stay here."
He stared resolutely at the countertop. "We wouldn't just abandon you."
She didn't trust herself to reach for a sip of tea without spilling it, so she sat with her arms folded in her lap. "I guess there's no avoiding the truth now, is there?"
He flinched, fisting the balled apron.
You're a bitter woman, Kurokawa Hana. The words scraped themselves out of her mouth, all knife-edged and honed to cut. She hated the pinch between his brows that she caused—more than that she hated that all she wanted was for them to let her in; she hated that she was served helping after helping of their kindness without a taste of their trust.
Ryohei's fingers twitched at his sides. It wasn't the time to hold back, now was the time own up to the truth like a man, to assert his desire to protect them all, and to hold himself to that promise. But—maybe Bianchi would be better at explaining it, maybe it wasn't his place to explain but rather Tsuna's, maybe Takeshi should be the one to do it since it was his idea, maybe he should wait until all the guardians have gathered around to speak, maybe—Hana wouldn't believe him, she'd think he was making a fool out of her, she'd run away and put herself in even more danger, maybe—maybe—
"Breakfast," Kyoko beamed, setting two plates before them.
She wrested the apron from Ryohei's death grip, tutting while shaking it free of wrinkles, upsetting waves of dust made visible by angled beams of sunlight. She padded to the end of the long countertop to hang up both aprons on a row of hooks affixed to the wall before returning to the kitchen, presumably to carry more plates out.
"I'll help." Hana stood and lifted her stool back so it wouldn't drag across the floor.
The air in the kitchen was warmed by the gas stove, and coupled with Hana's already flaming cheeks, she felt as though she'd walked into a sauna.
"There are so many plates set out… are the others awake now?"
"Morning!" Haru popped into the kitchen with a bright smile, followed by Bianchi, Tsuna and Takeshi.
Hana dipped her head in greeting and made space for the incomers, balancing three plates in her arms as she made her way out.
"Whoa, let me take that."
A teenager in an obnoxiously printed blouse swooped in, leaving Hana with only one plate.
"Um…"
"Name's Lambo. Nice to meet you." He winked and spun around, leaving her stunned. Loud little boy in cow print? The one from back then? Is this some kind of joke?
05
.
"What are you holding a tray of food for?"
Haru sighed as they made their way down to the base via the elevator.
"Gokudera's always a grump in the morning. Not that he isn't a grump in the afternoon, he is. But he prefers to eat alone while brooding over various issues. It's ridiculous."
What issues?
Hana kept silent and followed Haru down a corridor curved in a semicircle to a small desk and chair seated against the wall. A wicker basket of old newspapers was placed below the desk. On the desk was a coffee machine and a few black mugs. Another mug held sugar packets and spoons. A small concave opening housed a sink, faucet and drying rack.
"I'll be dropping this off in the library and then we'll head over to meet up with the others. You can sit tight until I get back—I'll just be five minutes. Help yourself to the coffee."
Grateful for a pretense to keep busy, Hana made herself comfortable in the wooden chair and focused all of her energy on making instant coffee.
.
.
.
The brunette punched in a series of numbers on a pin pad and pressed her thumb to a small authenticator. The doors hissed apart to reveal a high-ceilinged room lined with packed bookshelves behind glass screens. The air was musty, despite the omnipresent cold draft circulating in the room.
"Go away."
It was muttered from twenty paces ahead in an obscure corner of the library.
"What's that? I couldn't hear you."
Haru found her way to his table and set the plate down, unraveling the napkin bundling the utensils.
"You shouldn't be putting food anywhere near these documents," he forced from gritted teeth.
"Better eat fast then," she replied cheekily, bracing herself against the table and leaning over in a blatant invasion of his space.
With a resigned sigh he glanced up, freezing at their proximity.
She pressed closer and he—
Let her.
"The fuck d'you think you're doing?" he snapped, shoving himself back in the nick of time.
"A miscalculation. Fourth to last line. Maybe if you let yourself eat and sleep like an actual person you wouldn't be making such careless mistakes."
He glanced back down. Cursed.
Glaring to the side, he muttered, "Looked in a mirror recently? You could use some sleep yourself."
"Maybe if you took care of yourself, I wouldn't have to," she hissed, pivoting on her heel.
"No one's asking you to," he shouted at her back.
She stopped in her tracks and turned. "It's too bad I care about you. Would have saved me a lot of time and energy if I could just brush it off like you do. Jackass."
Haru itched to slam the door, but it merely hissed shut.
.
.
.
If Hana noticed the redness rimming the brunette's eyes she didn't let on.
"Sorry about the wait," Haru murmured. "You must be impatient to know what's going on. We'll get you all caught up in the briefing room. This way."
"Was it... difficult, at first, being a part of... whatever this is?" Hana asked to break their silence amidst the passive hum of the elevator cables.
"It's still stressful, even now," Haru admitted. "But they're my family."
Hana didn't know how to relate.
Didn't the brunette already have a family? Did she mean to imply that her friends were closer to her than her biological parents? And that the term "family" referred to whichever group of people you held nearest to your heart? Hana had never been part of a "group." She never participated in any clubs or team sports. She was an only child, and had few friends. She had made two new friends at university, but she had never felt that they were somehow "bonded" like a family. They simply studied, ate, and occasionally laughed together.
Finally they arrived at the room nearest to ground-level (still thousands of feet below the surface).
Two rows of lights hung from the ceiling, spaced above the center of the rectangular table.
Takeshi, Bianchi, Chrome, Lambo, Kyoko, and Ryohei were waiting.
Tsuna sat at one end of the table. The other end had an empty chair. Haru slipped in beside Bianchi and two empty chairs, leaving Hana to uncertain as to which empty seat to take. Ryohei, restless as ever, cracked his knuckles until Kyoko gently shushed him.
"Please, have a seat," Takeshi indicated to the chair opposite Tsuna, on the other end.
Tsuna was pale but not panicking, to Hana's surprise. It was rare for her to see the scrawny boy so self-assured. "We… withheld information from you in the past to ensure that you remained uninvolved with the dangers we face as a mafia family." Pausing momentarily to let it sink in, Tsuna continued, "But now that you've been approached by someone we believe to be affiliated with the mafia, denying your involvement would be reckless. So I'll give you the basic information, and you can decide whether you want to know the specifics or not, given that it will heighten the stakes for all of us, even those in your circle, such as your family and friends."
Yakuza? Gang members? Extortion? Kyoko… was involved in this? Hana attempted to wrap her mind around the fact that the cuts and bruises Ryohei incurred were likely the results of serious, life-threatening brawls. He wasn't just a delinquent anymore—he was, quite possibly, a criminal. I encouraged Ryohei to involve Kyoko… I passed this burden onto her… I was the one who…
"We know you must have many questions, Hana," Kyoko interjected softly, "so we'll try to answer as many of them as we can as Tsuna explains the rest."
Hana nodded numbly. In the back of her mind she wondered why Tsuna appeared to be their spokesman. Could it be that a test-flunking, excuse-making bundle of nerves was their leader? How did that even make sense? How could a spineless boy of nineteen years head a criminal organization?
"We are known as the Vongola family. My father leads a group of people who function as our external advisors. My family was involved with the Italian mafia before I was even born, although my mother is mostly excluded from this family business, for her safety. At first… it seemed like something out of a manga, when I was approached by my mentor Reborn. I was enormously underqualified to assume a leadership role in an underground society dominated by criminals. I understand your apprehension; only a few years ago I was incredulous, wary and wishing I could wash my hands of all the obligations passed onto me." Taking a deep breath, he pressed forward, "But not all Mafiosi have criminal intent. I've met many honorable men and women who taught me that I can't afford to back down and turn away, not when the lives of others are at stake."
He chuckled. "Of course, I couldn't really do much to protect anyone in the state I was in. That's… where the Vongola rings come in." He activated his ring, careful to gauge Hana's reaction to an apparent demonstration of the supernatural.
"What... is that...?"
Hana gripped the underside of her chair tightly.
It was going to be a long morning.
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A/N: For anyone still reading this, I hope you know how thankful I am for your interest in the story. I'm an unreliable updater, I know. But these fics are a part of me, and as long as I'm not dead they WILL be updated... in due time. I hope you enjoyed this angsty chapter. Your feedback would be greatly appreciated.