Shamal
Shamal was a pervert. Period.
Say that it's otherwise, and it would be similar to defying the logic of the world.
But Shamal, was great and honorable as a person.
That, at the very least, was true.
He was a doctor-even if he treats only women- and Hayato, of all people, could prove that he truly did get concerned. And so would Tsunayoshi's hyper intuition, but that could've been left unsaid.
He had, after all, trained Hayato. Or more like the kid got so obsessed with him to the point he modeled his own hair after his.
He supported him from the sides. Or did it because Reborn threatened him to.
He would heal Hayato, despite his continuous complaints about only treating females. But that could've been the threats as well.
But Shamal truly cared for the boy.
Even if his reasons were somehow... Twisted, in a sense.
Because there laid a small, grain of fact that built up everything he had been doing with his life.
He had always loved Lavina.
He had fallen for the mother of the boy he had taken in, trained and looked after.
He loved someone who had long since been gone.
Worse? He continued to love her.
He had first met the woman at the bar where she would always play the piano. He was young, starting his career as a hitman, the prospect of love a new, and amazing thing.
He loved her the moment he laid his eyes on her. She looked like an angel. Silver hair, white clothes. A pure, joyful smile, nothing hidden behind it, but the joy she so clearly showed. He then knew that she was the one.
If the beating of his heart, dangerously as fast as it was on an exciting hit, was any indication.
He approached her, and they talked. And Shamal found himself grinning endlessly for days when they became friends.
He could remember vaguely the joy that made him sing, the joy that made him dance. It was love indeed.
But then too late had he realized that they could only be friends. Because the woman he loved, loved someone else.
It depressed him. His little angel was actually someone else's.
And yet, he didn't stop.
He didn't stop loving her.
He continued to talk with her, to smile with her, to applaud her after another of her wonderful performances.
Even if that was hardly seen behind her man's hugs, her man's kisses, or her man's loving words.
It hurt Shamal, it made him a wreck. He grew merciless, that led to the Varia's offer and only then did he realize he had become somewhat a monster.
And yet, as much as it pained and tortured him, he still didn't stop.
. Like. A. Drug.
Because. He. Loved. Her. Too. Much.
When he heard that they had a child- an illegitimate one at that- Shamal felt even more pain. It hurt more than all the pain he had felt before, he felt himself losing his sanity, his emotions slipping away into the unknown.
Yet he stayed by her side.
And when her son had been taken from her, Shamal stood there.
He took care of Lavina.
He was there when she cried, when she felt the loneliness of being left behind by the person she loved.
Shamal knew that pain better than anyone else.
And yet, Being a friend was more than enough for him, as long as he could be with the woman he had always loved.
When Lavina told him she had an incurable disease, he had grown desperate. He studied hard, he experimented on himself. He carried the diseases hoping to find the cure to the one Lavina had.
And he did.
Lavina had been on her way to her son's third birthday then, and Shamal could not wait to tell her of his discovery. He waited for her until night fell. He waited for her, until he fell asleep inside the bar that no one dared bother him.
It was early that morning when he received the news.
Lavina was dead.
Fell of a cliff, no reason why. That's it. Goodbye to the silver haired woman who played the piano. Condolences. Eulogies.
And he had been a few hours away from curing her.
He felt himself die. He felt whatever string, thread, strand of hair he had been holding onto snap in half, leaving him plummeting down to his death.
He stopped caring for the crap called a world.
He let himself live in pleasure, because what else was there to do? Everything had been taken from him.
But one day, years after he was left for dead, he met the child.
Her child.
The child who had grown tired of the world too, a child who had given up so easily. And he pushed that child.
Because there was no freaking way he was gonna let that kid give up when he had desperately clung onto hope until the end. Until he was left with nothing but the memory of her.
And he realized that the only solid memory of her he actually had was the kid.
So he trained him. He looked after him. And slowly, he saw the value of his life again. He taught the boy what he knew. He guided him, hoping that he would make the right decisions.
And he would continue to.
Even if only for the sake of a memory.
Even for just a mere reminder that she did exist once upon a time, and she hadn't been a fleeting dream.
Because he loved her.
And he still does.
And he knew he would continue to.
Even until eternal life.