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Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Any characters and/or familiar plots in this fan fiction belong to Akira Amano. Anything unfamiliar with the audience belongs to me.

Chapter 10

Age: 13

"Oh? Is little Mitsu-chan not with you today, Yuu-san?"

"No," I smiled politely at the elder lady, pausing appropriately before continuing, "Mitsu is on her way to her father's for the holidays I'm afraid, so we won't be seeing her around here for a little while."

"Oh, is that so?" She hummed, trying not to (but failing miserably) look curious.

"Unfortunately," I said, ending the conversation with, "I'll only be taking these, Fujiwara-san," and gesturing to the plentiful plastic bags of fresh fruit.

"A-Ah, of course," The fruit stand lady stuttered, looking put off at the lack of gossip. It was an annoying habit of her's I admit (prying into other people's business), but her fruit stand always had the freshest fruits, so there was no helping it (luckily the best vegetables belonged to an adorable Mister Kita a few stalls down on the opposite side). "Here you are, Yuu-san. Have a lovely day! I'll see you next week!"

Unfortunately. "Thank you very much." I replied with a sincere smile, feeling the hairs raise along the back of my neck the moment I took the bags from her grip.

Someone was watching me.

I discreetly looked towards my left from the corner of my eye, vaguely in the direction where I felt the intent stare of—

thump thump thump thump thump—

...Shiro.

Ran Shiro.

Shiro, my Shiro, was standing several feet away from me staring and studying and frowning at my face and was it just me or was the ring on my finger starting to get really really heavy from the plainly obvious attention he was giving me oh my god what if he could see through the illusion no no no—

Kamisama kamisama kamisama, what the hell is Shiro doing here?

He shouldn't be here right now.

He should not be here right now!

I took a shaky breath and focused on making my movements seem as natural as possible. I adjusted my grip on the bags as thoughts of, what do I do what do I do what do I do, ran through my head because Shiro can not see me like this right now!

Not when I was playing the role of Shizuka Yuu; the single mother who took care of her daughter, who looked the spitting image of her, in a lonely house in the mountains that was suspiciously isolated—

I began walking away from him, calmly and purposefully, because I needed to get away get away quickly—but where where the hell was I supposed to run away to?

I felt him following me; more curious than cautious, and my knees subtly began to shake.

Habitually, I turned down a familiar street—and spotted my salvation.

Thank kamisama.

I shifted the grocery bags to my left hand and nonchalantly reached for the realtor office's door to my right, fingers curling around the sliding door's pane.

"Obāsan*!" I called casually, closing the door behind me swiftly and pulling off the ring on my left index finger as soon as I could. I felt the illusion fading the moment the metal slipped off of my skin, and I continued with an, "It's Haru," while putting the ring in my front pocket. "I just got back from the farmer's market; I brought you some green tea from that organic stall that you like."

There was a loud thump that (not only matched the pounding in my chest) worried me for a second, but when an elderly woman bustled from the interior of the home, whole and if anything still alive, the feeling faded to relief.

As much relieved as I could feel knowing Shiro was out there looking for a ghost.

"Haru-chan, you didn't have to." The woman insisted, clicking her tongue in alternating frequencies as she made her way towards me. "I've told you time and time again that your simple company is more than enough to satisfy my weary soul."

I smiled, watching her make her way to her desk and take a seat with a heavy sigh. "Would you like me to put the tea in your cupboard, Obāsan?" I asked, watching her click appropriately and trail her fingers along the wood in habit. "I can make a cup for you while I'm at it."

"Oh, Haru-chan, you're such a sweetheart." She said, fiddling with a pen and some books relating to real estate.

"Not really," I admitted, almost awkwardly and shifting in place nervously (still) by the door.

Kawahira Obāsan was the woman who sold Aria the house in the mountains in the first place. I don't know what Aria told her, or maybe even used illusions to convince her, but she didn't question why a twelve year old girl was living away from her parents in such a secluded home in the first place.

Did she even know I was living away from my parents? Maybe she thought Aria was my mother or something. Either way, she didn't know of Yuni (or Mitsu, as she wore the illusion every single time she left the house). The less people knew of her existence, the better.

"Nonsense. Ah, by the way Haru-chan, if you're ever interested in running away, I know this beautiful property in Nagano I can introduce you to." She winked, seeming to add life to those blind, useless eyes of hers, and the action was so unlike her usual humble, kind self, my jaw dropped in surprise.

"Obāsan!" I spluttered, caught off guard at her sudden playfulness. "Where did that suddenly come from?"

"Oh, nowhere," she hummed, running her fingers over the raised lettering in her books, "I know a woman of your character is bound to have caught the eye of multiple men and women."

"Oh please," I muttered, finally gathering my bags and making my way into the inner living area, with a muttered, "Not in my past life, nor in this one."

"I wouldn't be so sure," She said, in a tone that sent a shiver down my spine.

Sometimes, she said things in an almost prophetic manner, and it made me think stupid stuff like, maybe she traded her vision to see the future…?

Ito-sensei, although heartless and unfeeling, was really good at his job.

Really really good.

So when the door to my room opened quietly, and a presence entered the slowly growing sensory bubble I was developing, I had already identified my visitor and ceased any mental planning I had of immobilizing him two steps through the doorway.

My bed dipped at the added weight, and I didn't fight the sudden warmth against my back. Instead, I turned and snuggled closer into Shiro's embrace, allowing him to wrap his arm around me and adjust my neck over his steadily thickening bicep.

I exhaled, warm and comfortable and a little worried for him. "Are you okay?" I mumbled against his jaw, opening my eyes slowly and seeing only the darkness at his neck.

"Yeah," He answered slowly, not sounding emotional at all, even though he should be.

"You should've called." I muttered after a moment of silence. It had scared me shitless when I suddenly saw him in town like that. It wasn't that I didn't want him around, it was the exact opposite actually, but that I needed to clear any trace of Yuni back home before he saw anything. Luckily, I stuffed everything into Yuni's room and let the name plaque Aria had provided to erase her existence. And the room in general. "The place is a mess, I didn't have time to clean."

I really need to ask Aria where she finds all of these items that cast such efficient illusions, I thought belatedly.

"I don't care." He said, and I knew he meant it, which made me annoyed at his carelessness yet relieved at our causal relationship. "I just wanted to get away from Otōsan. I'll go back a day before the funeral."

And then in a softer tone, almost like an afterthought, he said, "I wanted to see Haru-chan." A soft, gentle kiss to my hairline, "I missed you."

I sighed, suddenly filled with the warmth of his love yet still aware of the feelings the incident earlier today had given me. "I missed you, too," I admitted in honesty, tilting my head to nudge my forehead against his jaw affectionately, "But you should be there for your Otōsan, Shiro. He just lost his wife."

He huffed a laugh, pulling me closer to his chest and beginning to run his fingers through my short hair. "You know as well as I do that Otōsan never loved Okāsan. They had an arranged marriage remember?"

"Yeah." I mumbled, remembering the coldly distant way his parents had interacted with each other, all the while stroking his side in a gentle manner. "I remember that…"

I was an avid practitioner of physical affection (if the reader hasn't yet noticed…).

In my previous life, where I kissed the cheek of extended family in greeting, or hugged and held hands with my immediate family in public, or was accustomed to seeing hands stranding to intimate places between couples, suddenly being thrust into a society where losing face is the greatest shame you could bring upon yourself and your family, was—hard.

Really really hard.

In this life, I had to be aware of how close I stood, or sat, or leaned towards another person. I had to be aware of casual touch to backs or shoulders or hair or hands when not involving my immediate family.

This new definition of personal space, of distance, made me feel cold and detached and very very empty inside.

It didn't help that I had a bad habit of casually touching anyone I was fond or comfortable with.

Which brings us to Shiro's casual acceptance (and avidly initiative) of our snuggle sessions despite his strict upbringing in Japanese ideals.

(Keep in mind that Emi Incubo was born and raised in Italy for a good portion of her life. She and Miura Kazuo only kiss each other in the morning, which is surprisingly subdued affection from an Italian woman, and surprisingly provoking from a Japanese man. Her affection towards her daughter is completely the opposite I assure you)

I don't remember when I started casually touching Shiro, but I remember when we started cuddling, then snuggling, then going to each other for warm, silent, tangles of comfort.

I don't regret introducing Shiro to the world of avid physical affection. I only feel...worry, at the possibility that my actions might somehow make him do something he will regret. Something that might ruin Shiro's public image (ah, there's that Japanese ideal).

This worry is brief, because I know Shiro can take care of himself. He's smart, and knows what to do and when to do it. The same goes for what not to do and when not to do it.

So really...the only thing I need to be anxious about is Yuni kissing someone she really likes suddenly.

Not in a romantic manner, obviously.

I was running around town after my morning student council meeting when I saw it. Or felt it. Or whatever you want to call it.

A blur of motion sped by on the other side of the street, roaring loud enough for the prepubescent voice to be heard over the music blaring in my ears. The sound was strangely animalistic in its vigor, and the strength of it shook my heart in its rib cage.

I stopped immediately, breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, eyes following the fading dust clouds, heart pounding. I want to say it pounded harder at the sudden lack of motion, but then I'd be lying.

It pounded in nervousness and apprehension and a little bit of fear.

I continued my daily run, because I was suddenly aware of the eyes of someone studying every single movement in this city. A presence I could tell wasn't malicious yet, but so present in a way I knew meant bad things— I tried not to think: how long has this presence been watching this place?, have I made a mistake?, was I careful enough?, has it seen anything? has it seen me? her?please please please let everything go alright, and instead focused on seeming as natural as possible.

But nothing was natural anymore.

Not after seeing...

After seeing what I believe to be the main character.

Main character...

And suddenly I was reminded of everything that will happen and everything that will come—and my complete lack of preparation—

Even if it was a blur or a glimpse of him, I suddenly had an incentive to sit and stare at paper and writhe and groan and try to think of what I could remember after all of these years—because I had put it off for too long, why did I put it off for so long—

I had been so busy living n the moment, I hadn't thought about the future at all.

The revisit of how useless I am because what was the point of giving my memories back if I was bound to forget them anyways made me angry and frustrated enough to want to rip the bullet point filled papers in front of me to shreds.

But I stopped myself from ripping them in half.

I exhaled shakily, threw the almost useless documents on my desk, and decided to sweat out my frustration with physical activity.

I didn't know when I was going to meet Sawada Tsunayoshi (I remembered), other than it being soon, but one thing I knew for sure was: I wasn't going to go to him.

Glossary

Obāsan—respectful term for an older woman

Sōjutsu—art of the spear

Special: 10,086th Alternate Universe

(for reaching 100+ reviews)

note: inspired by givemehugs54's review

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt—

"S'pe'bi…" I groaned, rolling over and pulling the covers closer around my neck.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt—

"S'pe'bi," I groaned again, louder this time, lips mumbling against the skin of his collarbone when he didn't move.

He grunted, tightening his grip around my waist and head, and effectively caging me against his bare chest. It became harder to breathe, and I blinked open an eye that wasn't pressed against skin only to be blinded by the winter sunlight.

"Supe'bi," I grumbled, nudging the male's jaw with my forehead. "My phone—"

Wait.

My phone's ringing. So that means—

I immediately turned over, breaking out of Squalo's grasp to reach for the vibrating device on the night stand.

One grunt and quick swipe later, Superbi Squalo and I were tangled together among the bedsheets.

"Let it go to voicemail." My husband grumbled against my neck, snuggling closer to avoid the winter cold.

"But what if it's Basil—?" He pushed himself up on his elbows and kissed me quickly, shutting up my concerns and nipping my bottom lip for good measure.

"Shut up." He demanded with a scowl and was he really scowling at me oh god he's so going down!

I grinned at him in excitement, lips pulling into a growl as I wrapped my legs around his waist and flipped us over before he could kiss me shut again. Successfully pinning him, I reached for the phone just as it began vibrating a second time—

But there was a reason Superbi Squalo was the second-in-command of the Varia.

Even without his sword.

He grabbed my wrist, used his weight to disturb my center of gravity, and had us landing on the floor in a heap. I laughed at the situation, Squalo scowling under me from instinctively catching my fall.

I kissed him playfully and quickly, pushing off of him and sprinting towards the bathroom before he could stop me.

There was a growl behind me before a hand and forearm were around my waist and pulling me against a bare chest. I shrieked at being caught, laughing so hard I began to hiccup. Squalo spun me around, quickly and effortlessly lifting me so that I could wrap my legs around his waist.

I kissed him as a reward, but he continued the quick pecks between laughs and grins until I was breathless and tingly with positive feelings.

A hush fell between us, my fingers running through his long hair, my thumbs stroking his cheekbones. We looked into each other's eyes for a good while, and the emotions blooming in my chest were strong enough to have me think I would burst from happiness, were dangerous to have in the mafia.

He leaned his forehead against mine, not seeming to tire from holding me up and against him the entire time (with one arm no less).

I kissed Superbi Squalo slowly, breathing, "Love you," against his parted lips.

He inhaled, as if breathing in the words, and he exhaled, "I love you," against my mouth.

I grinned, face hurting from the stretched muscles, and kissed my husband again to expel the happiness and joy and contentment close to consuming me.

He carried me back to the bed we shared, his kisses growing urgent and hot and needy as my phone vibrated again and again.

It was moments like these…

—that made me wish we weren't in the mafia at all.

Special: How Fleeting (and a Pain in the Ass) Emotions Can Be

(for ddmahan922 guessing the River Lethe)

prompt: a special that takes place after the future arc and everything blows over, with the adorable 18 year old Byakuran who forces Haru to go shopping with him.

note: how about older than 18?

"Are you mad at me?"

I sighed at the question, already anticipating it's arrival. "No." I answered honestly (I was annoyed), eyes scanning the racks and shelves of lightly colored clothes. I stopped my casual sweep when Shiro didn't respond. His silence disturbed me a little, it meant he was thinking deeply and quickly. But it wasn't that he was thinking deeply and quickly that made me nervous.

It was that he was silent that did. Because Shiro was one to speak his mind clearly and bluntly, and the fact that he was doing this internally instead of externally made me feel almost left out.

I began to turn towards him, but he pressed himself against my back, successfully making me pause. His hands ran from my shoulders down my arms to my hands, our fingers intertwining easily and effortlessly.

"I love you," he said, lifting my left hand to his lips and kissing the wedding band on my finger. He lifted our intertwined right hands to place them over my swollen belly, his fingers guiding my own over the small life underneath.

I turned my head to kiss his jaw, leaning my forehead against his neck at the warm warm feeling he was encasing me in. I breathed in the love I felt from him and me and the small little light inside of me the both of us had created.

I was blessed.

So, so, blessed.

"Better?" He murmured, releasing me slowly but not letting my left hand go.

"Mmm." I grunted with a nod, not realizing I needed the comfort he had just provided. I was scared and a little panicky at how soon the baby was coming and I was ignoring him even though he was trying his best to help…

"Now, let's continue this shopping spree," He encouraged with a smile, pulling me towards the hats and booties.

"Make sure everything's in neutral colors, Shiro." I reminded, stopping abruptly in front of a lovely pair of pale yellow knitted mittens. "Oh, Shiro, these are so cute…" I murmured.

"They are," he agreed, not hesitating to take them out of my hands and placing them in a basket he pulled out of nowhere, "But Haru, our baby's a girl." Shiro insisted, testing the material of a pink onesie between his fingers. "Our little Aki. Ran Aki." He grinned in amusement.

"Aki?" I echoed with a frown, wondering just where the hell he got that name. "Is that supposed to be a pun between our names?" I asked in an I'm-not-amused tone. Haru meaning Spring and Aki meaning Autumn?

Autumn Orchid...

It honestly didn't sound too bad, but— "What if it's a boy?" I challenged, moving towards the striped shirts and stuffed animals, eyeing a small lion and crossing the possibility of Ran Natsu (Summer Orchid) off of our list. I cared about Tsuna, but having our child named the same as his box weapon...? No. Not going to happen. "Yuki Ran doesn't sound too bad either." I commented offhandedly.

Shiro was suddenly breathing against my neck, lips slowly tracing my earlobe and sensually murmuring, "Winter Orchids aren't as beautiful as Spring Orchids. We could name the baby after his mother."

I exhaled shakily at the sudden change in mood, knees beginning to tremble—Uh-oh this is bad—He was turning me on and this was not a good place to—

"I'm assuming Natsu and any colors are out of the picture…?" I breathed, trying to focus on the innocent, beady eyes of the stuffed animals staring into my soul.

"Definitely." He said, pulling back—

—and taking my desire with him.

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes to hide the raw disappointment the small moment had left behind and to calm the lust that flared inside of me briefly.

"Enough about names," I forced myself to say, almost in annoyance, "You brought me here against my will, Byakuran," a name I only used when annoyed with him, "even though we have enough clothes to last three life times, so let's finish this and get back to that foot rub and book waiting for me next to the fireplace at home you've promised me."

He grinned at me, almost laughing at my small rant, not at all affected by my calling him Byakuran as he used to be, "Hai, hai~" He drawled, humming in amusement as he picked up a fluffy lamb.

I sighed at his casual attitude, turning my attention to a set of soft, knitted booties a light green color. So small… I thought, relaxing at the sight and just daydreaming of smiles as bright as the sun and laughter so beautiful it would leave me breathless...

Shiro's fingers found their way to intertwine with my own, and I pretended not to notice their gradual movement all the while discretely tightening my hold on his hand. He grinned, and the action annoyed me.

"Shut up."

Special: Untitled

(for Lahel guessing the River Lethe)

prompt: none was given

Special: Between Honest to a Fault Old Men (or is it Wise?)

(for Deer-Shifter guessing the River Lethe)

prompt: Something from the perspective of Haru's actual Grandfather, Dante, would be nice. What he thinks of his granddaughter, and what explanation he received for the Ninth breaking off the friendship with her (if any).

note: wow, I had so much fun writing this one :'D

It didn't surprise him.

When Timoteo cut off any and every relation with his granddaughter, and the rest of his family but himself for that matter, after her three day long abduction that felt like forever and a day.

He had had his suspicions, about the mafia thing of course. He wasn't an idiot for God's sake.

But when you worked for a powerhouse like that and suddenly disappear, suddenly quit, you raise red flags that only get you murdered (if you're lucky).

No. Better to stay quiet and do your work without complaint. Feign ignorance. Besides, Timoteo payed well, and he wasn't a terrible chess player to boot.

So why expose his granddaughter with the suddenly older, yet still naive eyes to a mafia boss of Timoteo's standing?

Well, Timoteo wasn't a bad man.

Okay, that's a lie.

The truth was, Timoteo was a good man who has become twisted due to the world he currently resides in, and he strives to do as much good as he can.

The point here being, Timoteo tried. Tried really hard. To be good anyways. And when Timoteo confided in Dante that he was all alone in the word (no wife, no sons, no immediate family, all of them dead), he felt for him.

Dante remembered, very clearly, when he saw his granddaughter again after her change, and when he decided to have a small part of him in the shape of kin mend Timoteo's cracked heart.

He was a very observant man; it was why he excelled in his trade and why he was still alive among the many architects the mafia hired and accidentally misplaced.

So, to see his pink-dressed-tea-party loving granddaughter leave one winter, and return the next with a backpack full of books she shouldn't be capable of reading at her age and a mature looking countenance that looked almost brooding, it felt wrong.

A change like that, where all of a sudden her eyes were deep deep deep should not. Be. Possible.

So he watched her, studied the way she moved and breathed and spoke and just existed, until he came to a sensible conclusion.

A conclusion he, at the very least, could be satisfied with.

Despite all of the wrongs that his little Haru was now showing, all of the things she couldn't possibly know because she was six for God's sakes just where and how could this be possible it isn't possible—!

She was still a child.

A child, he noticed, who seemed to miss something very very dear to her. A naive little girl who looked confused, and scared, and alone at the strangest of times. An innocent little thing, that did not seem to understand why or how she was who she was and where.

She looked lost.

He didn't remember whether it was immediately after this or gradually after this realization, that he let this strange little girl into his life.

And, after that, she steadily became his little Haru.

So when Timoteo nearly had a mental breakdown in his grief at having lost his family (something he couldn't even imagine sympathizing with), Dante brought the little light of his life in the hope that she would light his life too.

And she did.

And he her's.

Until she was kidnapped and who knows what they did to her and her fragile mind but God why had he brought his little light into this mess to begin with he was an idiot for doing something so stupid in the first place and now Timoteo was trying to move on but he still had this lethargic feel about him and it wasn't Timoteo god damn it—

Ahem.

Anyways, when Timoteo walked out of the car, one hand on his cane, the other gently holding a sleeping Haru to his shoulder, the Incubo-Miura family ignored the silver haired teenager who came out after him (or most likely didn't notice him at all) and tackled the older man until the huddle was warm with sobs and wet with tears.

He had been so so relieved.

He couldn't decide, whether Haru associating with the boss of the Vongola family was such a bad thing it got her kidnapped, or whether Haru associating with the boss of the Vongola family was such a good thing it allowed her to be rescued safely and efficiently, was what mattered.

"Dante?"

"Hmm?" He responded instinctively, looking up from the little crown atop his king chess piece.

Timoteo smiled at him, almost as if he knew what he was thinking, "Your move." He said, waving his hand good naturedly.

"Ah," Dante said, quickly and almost carelessly moving his queen; murmuring a, "Checkmate." without really thinking.

Checkmate. For the fourth time in a row.

Special: When a Reader Requests Something (the author was really looking forward to writing) with MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD

(for Aliathe guessing the River Lethe and Thanatos)

prompt: maybe something about Haru and Shiro and Shoichi all meeting together for the first time and Haru suddenly realizing, 'oh wait, he's Byakuran'?

note: I was planning on doing this in the future arc, so MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD, I remember a reviewer once shipping Haru and Hibari (even though I think that would be really difficult…ahaha... I gave it a shot)

I hated this silence. Hated it with a passion.

I wasn't stupid (at least not completely). My suspicions of Shiro's romantic feelings for me had only been confirmed a year and a half ago when I first started dating a coworker and he had confessed. But even then… Even then…

My hand rose to touch his elbow: to stimulate a touch that expressed how much I loved him as family as everything but a life partner and yet—

Was I even allowed to touch Shiro so causally anymore? Was I—?

"Haru." I jumped, retracting my hand quickly but not quickly enough for him to catch the movement out of the corner of his eye. He stopped abruptly, letting the two steps I had been walking behind him to even out next to him. He shifted the bag of groceries to his right arm and grabbed my right hand with his left; he ran his thumb over the back of my hand in an intimate motion I found so familiar and comforting that my tense shoulders loosened significantly.

"I'm happy for you," He said, as if he had read my thoughts, his voice sincere and expression honest, so so honest it— "Don't feel sad about my heartache, Haru-chan. I know, at the very least anyway, that you will always come back to me one way or another."

I don't know whether it was the fact that I was getting married to a man I loved or my best friend's acceptance to this arrangement (most likely the latter) that made my eyes well up with tears, but at that moment, I was so so grateful for Shiro being in my life.

"So…" He continued, lips slowly and gently brushing my knuckles, breathing, "don't cry for me, Haru-chan." with the saddest of expressions on his face I knew he didn't mean to let show, that I—

"Shiro…" I breathed shakily, bowing my head to hide the tears in my eyes. I didn't want him to see how happy his words had made me feel, because it wasn't right to feel that way. Not when he looked so so sad— "I'll always cry for you, Shiro." I choked a laugh, coughed, then said, more seriously and honestly, "I love you."

He smiled lightly and hugged me, an action I greedily grabbed at all the while fisting the dark cloth at his back as I breathed and breathed to calm all of the emotions welling inside of me. "I love you too, Haru-chan." He murmured against my hair, and I mumbled nonsense into the plain shirt into his chest—

A light body slammed against my back, emitting an "Oof!" as it recoiled and landed on the floor rather roughly. Shiro adjusted his grip to keep me steady despite me being completely able to steady myself, and we both turned towards the stuttering redhead on the floor curiously.

The young boy, wearing large glasses and a striped shirt, stuttered, "I...I'm so sorry! Ahhh…" with a panicked expression and slightly pained and pale features.

"Oh honey, are you okay?" I replied, immediately kneeling in front of him to assess the damage. "You fell pretty hard," I commented, adding, "What's your name?" as I took his hands and helped him up. He was trembling, which softened me up, and looked really really nervous at my touch. "I-I'm fine." He stuttered, flinching at my sudden closeness and swift feeling of my handkerchief against his face. "T-Thanks. I, ah…" He continued, knees shaking as I habitually cleaned him up, "I, should go." He blurted, when I finished, seeming to forget that I asked him for his name, "T-Thanks. Sorry f-for the trouble." He bowed hurriedly, turning to go—but Shiro quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, making him squeak in fear (or surprise, I couldn't tell).

"Shiro," I warned with a frown. The boy was beyond terrified of something, and I didn't like the stress we were suddenly giving him at the moment.

"Just a moment…" He said, looking at the boy's face intently for a few seconds. "Hmmm…" the boy started sweating under the man's gaze, and I was ready to call him off— "Have I met you somewhere before?" Shiro asked, a strangely curious expression on his face.

"N...No…" Alarm bells began ringing in my head at his hesitance, because that could only mean he's lying. I shifted, feeling the weight of the box weapon on my belt— "I think you must have the wrong person." He continued, seeming to gain confidence at the statement.

Shiro suddenly grunted. Hard. His hand flew to his head, features twisting in pain, "Ahhh...Unghh!"

"Shiro?" My heart fluttered in slight panic at the abruptly vivid look of agony on his face. I had never seen such an expression before, not even when we fell off of a tree as kids and he broke his arm under my leg. "Shiro!" I repeated, stepping close enough to place a hand on his back, "Shiro, what's wrong?"

His knees buckled with another pained grunt, and I quickly adjusted myself to catch him fully. "My head…" He hissed, "It hurts, nnggh, what is this?!"

"H-Huh?" I swallowed, I had completely forgotten that the boy was still here, "A-Are you alright?"

"Hey!" I snapped, turning towards him. "Call an ambulance!" I ordered, beginning to fish for my cell phone in my pocket.

"No." Shiro managed to grunt, "not yet." He breathed, "It...It feels as though...I'm on the edge of grasping something…" He breathed heavily, sweat beginning to collect along his brow, "Like I'm about to solve...a very important puzzle…"

What? What the hell is he saying? That's bullshit— "Shiro, this isn't the time to—"

"I have met you before." He interrupted, looking right at the shaking boy with a confused expression, "Somewhere else...somewhere completely different from here…"

"Shiro, you're scaring me—" I said, voice rising in panic.

"In another world!" He said with realization, and every little thing seemed to skip along with my heart beat. What…? "It happened in...university…"

"Shiro, we never went to University…" I corrected, not liking this heavy heavy feeling in my stomach.

"Your name was… Irie."

Something cold slithered down my spine.

Wasn't… wasn't there something about a character named Irie and the future…? Something about…

And then the world seemed to freeze and heat up and shake in horror, because it's not possible—please please please don't let this be real—

...something about a Byakuran…?

I took a step back, letting the hands I couldn't feel dangle at my sides. My entire body was numb with how fast my mind was working because everything was twisted and wrong and yet made so much sense because Shiro's name when read the in Western fashion first name last name was molded into Byakuran—

—and then everything seemed to break.

There was the sound of a familiar crack, and then the alien feel of heat at my collarbone. My entire body jerked once at the force, then began to fall. I caught myself on my elbows with teeth clenching force, which was stupid, because it stretched at the muscles along my chest and kamisama I screamed at the fucking pain.

I felt more than saw, the Irie kid running away, rather loudly might I add, and through the furious blinking of red across my vision, Shiro—no, Byakuran, because he's Byakuran—was pulling me to his chest and applying pressure over my heart and kamisama stop tugging at me or else I'm going to—

My vision tunneled, and I tried to grunt something about calling Kyoya which most likely came out as mere grunts but Shiro—no, Byakuran—was crying and wailing and calling for help and what the fuck, I've been shot before why does this hurt so much more—?

Shiro—no, Byakuran—held me, one arm around my waist and spare hand against my gushing wound with his chest against my back which was so so warm… His tears kept on landing on my face, and it made me slightly anxious at the thought of any of the drops landing in my eyes—ah, Kyoya's gonna be so so mad at me when he finds out—we were rocking and he was kissing me on the forehead and nose and mouth and—uh-oh, Kyoya's gonna be so so mad when he finds out—this darkness beginning to take me was familiar and haunting and Shiro's rambling "I love you"s and "Don't leave me"s and "Please please please"s were—

A young man, maybe in his late teens, appeared over Shiro's shoulder. His face was handsome and familiar in the sense that maybe I dreamt of him once upon a time—there was a loud ruffle that seemed to echo inside of me, and then there were black wings behind him.

The more I looked at him, the blurrier Shiro's face became, and it was when the boy took my hand that his name came to me, Thanatos... and then I thought, Fuck...I screwed up...I'm sorry...I'll make it up to you, Kyoya, I promise...

Miura Haru was assassinated several minutes after Ran Shiro received his memories from all parallel worlds. Coincidentally, almost all Miura Haru(s) were with him at the time, and almost all were assassinated at the exact same time.

Almost all.

Special: In Which it Becomes Clear (Somewhat, if Not at All)

(for Flaming Belladonna guessing the River Lethe)

prompt: I think it would be cool to see what Shiro is thinking again, I really liked that omake in the 3rd chapter. Maybe in chapter [9] when they are eating, or something…

note: Ahaha, this was okay until the end, the end screwed me over ':D

There it was again, he noted.

That face.

A wistful, lonely, sort of face that Ran Shiro was growing more and more annoyed and worried and slightly bitter at catching sight of. And although it was a beautiful look in Miura Haru's eyes, he did not like seeing that expression in his presence because he was here dammit, there was no reason for her to feel lonely in the first place when he is right here—

He took a deep breath.

"Lately…" His fingers gently prodded her knuckles, and she jumped under his touch, the spoon she had previously been holding clattering onto the tablecloth. "Haru-chan…" his fingertips traced the lines of her exposed palm before trailing to her slender wrist, "has been wearing a sad expression on her face…" his hand retreated, revisiting all of the ridges and tiny, tiny scars he was suddenly curious upon finding, to simply clutch her fingers.

There was a small pause where she simply stared at their joint hands. That small moment of nothingness didn't worry him (yet). But when she took a deep breath and released it shakily, the sudden movement reassured him of her awareness.

Her thumb began to stroke his knuckles, and the familiar motion made the coldness deep deep in his bones go away with a lovely warmth. "Sorry." She seemed to breathe, "I wasn't aware…"

She didn't look entirely surprised, but more brought into awareness of a new obstacle, and Shiro wanted nothing more than to bring her hand to his lips and kiss the blemishes along her palm and wrist and shoulders and collarbone and neck and—

"How's everything going over here?"

He swallowed a growl at the sudden interruption and plastered on a charming smile expertly. He caught the waitress looking away from their joint hands sharply, as if she had walked in on an intimate moment and wanted to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. He was sure Haru noticed too, if her trying to pull away was anything to go by.

Shiro tightened his hold on Haru's hand, ignoring the uncomfortable look she was adopting from the corner of his eye. "We're fine. Thank you." He made sure to add a tone of finality to it, so he didn't understand why she hesitated, stuttered an, "Ah," and turned to Haru with blushing cheeks.

By this time, Haru had already gotten control of her emotions, he could tell. She smiled politely at the young woman and the look seemed to unsettle the waitress somewhat, as she blushed harder and mumbled a quick, "Just let me know if you need anything," before scurrying away as quickly as possible.

He didn't like the way Haru's eyes watched the girl's back warily, and he didn't know if it was that particular movement or the burning in his belly that made him ask the stupid question, "Are you embarrassed?"

Really (-_-)

Miura Haru looked surprised, and Ran Shiro already knew the answer that would leave those strawberry colored lips (funny, Haru wasn't terribly fond of strawberries), "Embarrassed? Not really. You know I don't like the attention."

And he did. He knew very well. He knew Haru very well.

So why had he asked a question he already knew the answer to…?

He looked away from her face, needing to think clearly without being distracted by those big big eyes that could engulf him whenever she felt like it. Whether she knew of it or not.

Shiro had been aware of the feelings he felt for Haru for a good while now. These beautiful moments of warmth and love and I-am-here-for-yous that were powerful and consuming and made him feel strong and invincible.

And yet sensitive and...shatterable…

What...has Haru done to me…?

Was it...bad…? These feelings…?

No. It wasn't bad. It was good. So so good. If Ran Shiro had a choice to do it all over again, he would allow Miura Haru to enter his life anew and he would willingly succumb to her love and embraces and being wrapped around her little finger—

He was beginning to suspect these feelings were...love...

"Shiro?" Haru called, voice tentative and slightly worried.

He turned back to Haru, slipping on a familiar grin he knew would relieve her. Forget all that. All that matters is that I have Haru. "I'm full. Wanna go, Haru-chan? You still wanna stop by the library, right?"

She gave a shaky sigh, as if remembering she needed to return to the real world, and answered with a, "Yeah…" before she started grabbing her things. "We're splitting the bill this time." She reminded forcibly, and the mere afterthought made him grin in amusement.

"Hai, hai," He drawled with a small smile, hands habitually looping the checkered scarf around her collar. His fingers brushed the warmth of her neck, but he quickly discarded this detail to lean in, white fringe tickling her forehead, a usual question in his eyes. Haru frowned at the familiar sight, "Shiro—"

"Maybe just this once…?" He interrupted with a teasing twinkle in his eye. She scowled at him and playfully punched him in the gut. He appropriately gave a dramatic, "oof" at the contact as she insisted, "We're splitting the bill."

"Hai, hai," He repeated playfully, grinning widely.

Ran Shiro was an emotionally unbalanced boy due to the lack of attention from his parents and other personnel, so when Miura Haru came into his life, providing love and security, Ran Shiro's fixation turned into a love that centered her into his entire world.

Thanks to:

Lahel (thank you, did you enjoy the special?), New and Old (ahaha, that's definitely true), Deer-Shifter (how was that? did you enjoy the special?), Aliathe (i can't believe you were the only one who guessed Thanatos! that's amazing! did you enjoy your special?), Flaming Belladonna (thank you! i was thinking of studing mythology in college, and i'll definitely take some classes if i have space, haha), Ibara yuki (you're welcome! here's an update!), Knockoutroundabout (it's actualy the river lethe), meyinet (i rewrote chapter six, so if you're still curious, you can reread that to get your question answered), Midnight0Sky (you're special will be in the next chapter! promise!), Diving in (nope and nope, i've given multiple hints and the answer in this chapter), Princess Banana (ahaha, can't wait to see how that relationship goes), Crystal Blue Butterfly (thank you), Miyushi Black (here we go!), Marie (thank you!)

When I was thinking of the special, I suddenly remembered givemehugs54's review a few chapters back, and then I thought: WELL WHY NOT?

There's some psychological backing up in why Shiro is so dependent on Haru. I can't remember where exactly I read it, but apparently when a child is eight, his or her mind is trying to find a foothold of stability in their life, and here, Shiro found it in Haru, which is why it's very easy for him to center her into "his entire world."

GUYS I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE DAILY LIFE ARC, HERE WE GOOOOOO~!

Oh my god, guys, never again. That was way too many specials... ahaha... I still have one more to write, for Midnight0Sky for next chapter, so we'll see how that goes.

NO SET PAIRINGS YET!

Just a reminder ;)

Please review!

—prince