AN: Holy- another update! The sky must be falling.
Anyway, thanks for all the love! This story still lives. And as always: "speech" for Japanese, and «speech» for Italian (unless specified).
WARNINGS: Slight swearing, and mention of suicide/self-destructive tendencies (a.k.a. Gokudera).
The Golden Canary
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
The dame has lost her shoe,
The master's lost his fiddlestick,
And knows not what to do.
Chapter 8: The Rooster
When Tsuna woke up from a hazy dream, he had the vaguest memory of meeting a stranger that felt all kinds of wrong, yet still had the loneliest of eyes. And for some reason, there was a lingering taste of pineapples in his mouth.
He shook his head to clear the afterimage, and chalked it to the pineapple bread he had last night.
Now's not the time, he thought as he went through the motions of his daily routine, although tremors of anxiety caused him to drop his toothbrush several times. He'd let Oni-san know that he was ready to present his answer, and while he felt fine when whispering to Oni-san, he wasn't so sure now. It was more the "Do-Or-Die" situation that made him think and rethink his answer several times, twisting his gut more than his fingers could do to the hem of his shirt.
What if she doesn't like my answer? What if it's not the right answer? What if it's the right answer but I mess up on how to say it? What if it's the right answer, but she decides to stop teaching me anyway?
Negative thoughts churned his stomach enough to reject the idea of eating breakfast, so even though Oni-san had given him a surprisingly generous amount of food, he couldn't bring himself to touch it at all (which caused a raised eyebrow, but at least there were no additional questions added to his plate).
His nervousness seemed to rub off on his guardian as well, judging by his slow shuffle and how he stayed silent on the way to Signorina's house.
The dread that weighed his shoulders eclipsed all other senses, so it was with a start that Tsuna realised they'd arrived. Far too soon for his liking.
«…Knock whenever you're ready.»
Oni-san's gruff voice broke the silence, and he gulped, looking at the familiar rusty lionhead screwed into the door. Somewhere along the way, it'd become a majestic yet comforting sight to Tsuna, but today it just seemed ominous.
Okay Tsuna, you can do this. You've practiced enough times, and it's an honest answer. Just see it as ripping a bandage off really quick so it doesn't hurt as much.
He swallowed hard, lifted a hand, and knocked.
Tap-tap-tap.
Silence.
Oni-san growled, muttering something about a «pansy-assed knock that's barely audible», and glared daggers at him before reaching out and giving a heavier knock using the brass ring in the lion's mouth.
TAP-TAP-TAP.
Still no answer, and Tsuna's inner panic reached a level he didn't even know could exist. Oh my god…did she l-l-leave already? Is she tired of me and just left without saying anything? O-o-or did I mess up and accidentally give her too much information and she got killed?!
«That's weird. Unless maybe…shit.» Oni-san swore under his breath, alternating between banging fiercely on the door and peering through the front window to see any signs of life inside.
Tsuna on the other hand was trying to take deep gulps of air to prevent the onset of hyperventilation, eyes darting wildly at all the scary possibilities of what an unanswered door could mean until he caught a glimpse of something white poking out from inside one of the flowerpots.
He quickly caught the sleeve of Oni-san, who was about to call someone on the phone, and pointed at the object before he'd be yelled at.
The man's scowl smoothed a little, and he went to fish out the piece of paper.
It must have been a note from Signorina as he skimmed over it and swore again, but with less heat this time.
«Of all the days to be busy…!» He glanced at Tsuna, and let out a long-suffering sigh. «Well. At least she'll be back soon. I guess it's just you and me today, kid.» He flicked the paper to Tsuna, who actually managed to catch it in surprise. «Let's go. You can burn the message when we get home.»
At that, he turned to walk back, and Tsuna scrambled after him while trying to read the note at the same time. He still struggled with memorising some of the harder Italian words he'd been taught, but even he could understand the short sentence:
«Out today. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.»
And in the bottom left corner, written so small that he almost missed it, was a tiny word in Japanese:
"Sorry."
It made him equal parts worried and curious, but since there was nothing else he or Oni-san could do, they headed home, and carried on with their boring routine.
The hooded figure practically dragged herself through the alley, barely managing to make it to the nondescript back door and knocking to the rhythm of the tagline from Smooth Criminal (he'd insisted, and knew she couldn't say no).
She almost collapsed the second he opened the door, but for once, the pervy doctor didn't try to grope her as he gently supported her to sit on the examination table and locked the door behind them.
And then he had to break his chivalrous moment with puckered lips and a leery comment.
«Mamma mia; I think that's the first time a lady has so quickly fallen for me! This must be my lucky day!»
«Har-dee-har, you pervert.»
«Oh Mademoiselle, you wound me! Did I not drop all other appointments I had today just to see you?» He clutched his heart in exaggerated pain, but she still caught the concern reflected in his eyes, and in the way he gave her some space to catch her breath (to which she muttered a small «thanks»). «Anyway, that aside, how've you been my Lav-ley Lady?»
She groaned at the horrendous punny nickname and punched him weakly. «We're both too old for this, Doctor Sha-maul.»
«And yet you still look like a flower in bloom.» He chuckled, but swept over her tired form with a critical eye. «So. You had another one of your attacks?»
She nodded, rubbing her forehead with the back of a trembling hand. «Like I explained over the phone. You're absolutely sure that we're safe here?»
«Only the best for my favourite Mademoiselle. Not even the boss knows I'm here; he thinks I'm gallivanting around my regular hangout spots.»
«He wouldn't be wrong though.»
«Touché. But I'll have you know I do take my work seriously.»
«Only if it involves cute girls.»
«Hey now; you do yourself a great injustice! I must insist that you go beyond 'cute'; you're more on the 'infinitely ravishing' side!»
«Doc, please.»
«Alright, alright. Ever so impatient Lavina.»
«Comes with having a terminal disease.»
He shot her a complicated look that was a mixture of not funny and wistfulness, and she bowed her head in slight repentance. But he simply shook his head and grabbed his stethoscope and a few tools to perform the regular checkup on her body.
They settled in a familiar silence, with Lavina meekly complying to their routine.
Like riding a bike, except not so simple as it came with all the complications of human emotions.
She knew what she was doing to him by calling him each time she needed a medical checkup (although technically he'd asked – no, made her promise that to him). It was hidden beneath layers and layers of womanising combined with his perversion and desperation, but once upon a time, the Trident Assassin known as Shamal had declared his sole devotion to her, and she'd looked him in the eye and told him she couldn't give him what he wanted.
By that time, her heart already belonged to the Don of the Scorpione famiglia, but a part of it broke for his sake as his face fell in a white flag of defeat.
Shamal was the one she met her first in the backstage of one of her heyday concerts, after five encores she'd been more than ready to leave. He was flighty, flirty, and frivolous, and she'd told him as such before turning away in indignation. So it was a surprise to her when he actually stuck around for three weeks straight; downright acting like a stalker and yet slippery enough to escape her manager and security guards each time he overstepped her boundaries, which was pretty much all the time.
It was creepy yet endearing, and even though Lavina knew she could never love him romantically (he wasn't her type), she'd been intrigued at what made the man tick.
She'd found a story much too close to her own (constantly sick, no stranger to death, yet a genius in his field), but also discovered a confidant in the man behind the mask.
They became more than friends but less than lovers; comrades-in-arms in a world where the greatest wars were waged within themselves. And then she met him, Shamal's temporary boss at the time, in the middle of her regular gig at a dingy pub he'd cleared out just so he could hear her play for him.
He was everything Lavina's mother told her not to marry – ugly, married, and dangerous – but she fell for him anyway. Behind his gruff exterior and words was a heart that loved more fiercely than a hurricane, and she surprised even herself when she found herself having an affair with a man who already had a family of his own.
Granted, she hadn't known until after she tested positive. And therein laid the rub – as a sufferer of a terminal disease, all she could do was tear things apart. It was nice to forget her curse when she was just "The Silver-Haired Pianist" pouring her passions through her piano, or even listening to her friends' woes and offering advice and comfort here and there. But in the end, she was the hurricane, and would only ever leave destruction in her wake.
Getting pregnant was probably the only chance she'd ever get at creating life, and she'd been absolutely adamant about keeping her unborn child, even if she died in the process.
She never told her lover about her disease, so the look of shock on his face when she refused his proposal was painful, but not unexpected. It was Shamal who was the one who had to complicate everything. Even without being the Don's personal doctor, he would've volunteered to be her physician in a heartbeat, but in any case he was ordered to perform the most meticulous of all checkups to make sure her pregnancy went well without being exposed as the Don's mistress.
She couldn't hide a single scratch even if she wanted to, and the result was that the doctor found out about her premature expiration date.
After he'd gotten over his devastation, he was absolutely adamant about her getting an abortion. While it was actually relatively safe for a patient with RRMS to conceive and give birth, and the disease wasn't genetically passed down, the likelihood of having another attack was a lot higher than usual, in which case both child and mother could die. The probability of Lavina's body deteriorating rapidly after giving birth was also much too high for Shamal's comfort, and he voiced all this to her in hopes of dissuading her from what he called a «suicidal decision».
To Lavina, the doctor in front of her was still devastated over her impending death, but she'd already made her choice with her dying will. So she begged him to keep it a secret; begged with tears and shame and overwhelming guilt over what she thought she'd never do to a friend, and she tore his tender heart apart. But he took it with the strength she'd always known he had, and he relented on the promise that she'd come to him and only him for all future treatments.
Eight months later, she gave birth to the only light and hope of her world – a baby boy with silver hair and tea-green eyes just like her, but untainted by her disease.
Her lover upped his efforts in trying to get her to marry him, saying he'd leave everything – his famiglia, his wife, his daughter – behind for her. And she could see so agonisingly clearly that she was ripping everything apart with her own hands; lives she loved, lives she swore to protect and cherish for as long as she lived.
So she'd let go of her child; her light, and something died within her that day. Even so, she had no regrets, and she had never been as strong as the day Doctor Shamal and some other people from the Scorpione famiglia took Hayato away. The tears she cried were of the agony of loss and pride, and shortly after she fell into oblivion.
Like the doctor said, her condition worsened right after, and she was bedridden for four months. It was impossible for her to perform anymore, but that suited Lavina just fine. Everything was torn from her – a fitting punishment for the one who tore everything else apart.
She'd found a private place in the corner of Italy, staying out of the Scorpione famiglia's business as the contract they'd drawn up stated. In return, she was compensated generously, visited Shamal whenever necessary as per her promise, and got to see her baby boy three times a year.
While they were the only days she looked forward to, those three days of heaven also paradoxically became three days of pure torture, because she'd sworn not to tell Hayato about his true heritage. And it was so hard to deny, even when he took to music like a fish to water, or when he would innocently comment on how they had the same hair colour.
It didn't help that her presence lit proverbial fires of gossip, and she could see what it did to those who knew the truth, and in turn, what they did to those around them. Her very existence was tearing them apart again from the inside out, which tore her heart too, and so she decided to end it all.
Again, she enlisted Shamal's reluctant help (because he might as well go all the way), and faked her death on the day of Hayato's third birthday. It was completely cruel of her to do so, but she needed an excuse to give him a part of her that he could keep forever. And she wanted to be selfish, just this once.
But before she "died", she asked Shamal to keep an eye on Hayato, and when he gruffly agreed, she gave him the kiss he never wanted.
And then she'd really been waiting to die, stuck in a limbo of life and death yet still trying to enjoy each day as they came, but apart from the few new acquaintances she made in her neighbourhood, Shamal was really her only close friend, and even then she didn't dare to disturb him too much in case her love caught wind of her continued existence.
«You seem…oddly happy,» Shamal commented, interrupting her thoughts as he motioned to her to get ready for the MRI scan. «Not that it's a bad thing, of course! Just…you seem more like your old self. Before everything blew to pieces, and I'm talking both figuratively and literally.»
She gave him a secret smile and hummed, thinking of darling little Leo-kun and how the boy did wonders for her broken self. «Sorry; can't tell you the details. But I can say that I've taken up teaching again.»
«Teaching? Didn't you give that up after you 'died' because you were worried about too much exposure?»
«Well yes, but come on – it's been over five years, and I only have the one student. Plus it's low-key, and puts a little extra money in my pocket.»
«So basically a charity case, 'cause you know you're pretty much set for life after your last payout from the Scorpione.»
«I'm pretty sure I'm a charity case too. I guess that makes us birds of a feather then.»
And he gave her that look; the one that made her feel sorry that he was the only one she could share her secrets with.
«Anyway. How about you? How are you holding up?»
«Oh, the usual. Your life seems more interesting than mine at the moment.» He gave her a sidelong glance. «But come now; I know that's not what you really wanted to ask.»
«…Right. Well, if you don't mind my shamelessness, how's my little Hayato?»
«Dunno.»
She blinked in confusion. «Um, what?»
«Haven't seen him for around a year now. Dumb kid seems to be turning out exactly like you: Suicidal.»
«WHAT?!»
«Maybe a better term for it would be 'self-destructing', in all senses of the word.» He sighed, as if recalling something unpleasant. «You know how I trained him for a few months on how to use dynamite because he wanted to join the mafia?»
She nodded wordlessly.
«Well, he showed me he basically doesn't care about himself by harming himself just to defeat his opponent. Sounds exactly like someone we know.»
She ignored the jibe, heart now pounding out of her chest for Hayato. «But…but he's okay, right? He's learned his lesson?»
«Physically? He's fine. I broke my own rules and treated him, after all.»
But you kept your promise.
«Not sure whether he learned his lesson though. Pretty sure he hasn't, if his recent fights are any indication. But for now, I've confiscated his dynamite and told his father and servants not to let him anywhere near the stuff until he figures out what he's fighting for.»
«Thanks. Although I thought you said you don't know how he's doing?»
«Just because I'm not glued to his side doesn't mean I'm not keeping an eye out for him. Well, maybe more like half an eye. I'd rather look at the ladies, you know.» He winked, and she kicked him. «OW! As violently beautiful as ever, milady.»
He finished looking over the MRI scans, and jotted several things on her medical record while peering over his clipboard a few times as if he wanted to ask something.
«What?»
He remained silent.
She sighed, carding a hand through her hair. «What is it? It's okay to ask, you know.»
«Why do you do this to yourself, Lavina?»
She knew he was referring to her past decisions, and she knew he knew the answer already, but she also knew a hurting friend when she saw one.
«It's better this way. I'd rather have them live like this than having them live with the constant pain I have to go through.»
«Do you really think you can hide forever, and that it's better for them?» He lowered his voice in quiet anger, rounding on her with the same pain they shared. «My boss still keeps your letters in his safe, and listens to your recordings whenever he thinks no one is looking. Your son says he's given up the piano, even though I've caught him sneaking off to practice in the middle of the night like some drug addict who can't quit. He's also a smart kid, so do you honestly think he'll never figure it out?»
She sighed, drawing circles on her temple.
«No. I'm not that naïve, but hopefully, I'll be long gone before that happens.»
«Oh for cryin' out loud–»
«Please, Shamal. We've been over this before.» And she took his callused hand in hers and looked up, knowing the unfairness of it all yet too tired to care. «Just…I won't ask anything more. You don't have to be with him twenty-four seven, or even make sure he's happy, but at least give him a reason to stay. To live.»
He was silent for a long while.
«Please.»
He exhaled and squeezed her hand before pulling away.
«I can try, but I know I'm not the one who can be that person for him. Even if I wanted to be.» He went back to scribbling on his clipboard, sighing something close to lovesickness and yet not quite. «Like mother, like son,» he muttered as a parting shot.
Like mother, like son…hmm.
«Anyway. On to 'happier' news, you've lost weight again. The MRI also shows that there are more lesions on your brain. Are you following the exercise regimen I gave you all those years ago?» She nodded. «Well, since your feet coordination and sense of balance have been severely affected, I'm going to give you a slightly different one. And,» he took out a silver case filled with his special mosquito-pills, «I'll try to delay the onset of deterioration with a different mixture of remedies. Let's see…I'll need Gemma, Karissa, and Viola for this.»
Said mosquitoes with trident-shaped stingers flew out and stung Lavina's arm, although she barely felt anything. They went back to their master once it was done, and he re-capsuled them for future use.
«I'm also switching a few of your current pills for stronger ones. I can give you about a year's worth now, but you'll have to come back when you're almost through with them. Regardless of all the above, I think you're gonna have to take that wheelchair and crutches now whether you like it or not, just in case something like this happens again.»
She groaned.
«Don't worry Mademoiselle – I can personally guarantee you'll still look sexy with four extra wheels!»
She blocked his kissy face with a hand, and he pouted into it.
«Just get me those pills, and I'll let you handle the delivery of said items to my place.»
«Anything for you, my lady!» He spun around and took a few pill bottles out of several hidden drawers, giving Lavina a glimpse of several jars' worth of live mosquitoes within.
She frowned at the telltale sight.
«Wait. You're not still working on a cure, are you?»
The pervert doctor froze like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
«Ummm…»
«…You know what? Forget it. Whatever helps you sleep better at night.»
«Lavina.» He softened his expression, scratching his facial stubble like he usually did when he was nervous. «My proposal's still valid, you know. No matter what happens.»
And she was torn, because she knew that despite everything that happened; despite knowing he was the only one she could be selfish around, she couldn't say yes. Not then, and not now.
«Shamal…»
But he was strong enough to smile in the face of rejection, so he slipped his 'pervert' mask back on and snaked a hand to grope her butt, to which she automatically slapped away.
«Well, it's always worth a try.»
He placed the forgotten pill bottles into a bag and handed it to her as she hopped off the table, feeling much better than she had when she first came in.
«Thanks. How much do I owe you?»
«Really now? Weren't you the one who said we're too old for this?»
«Touché. Then you have my heartfelt thanks, and all the remaining love I have that doesn't already belong to my family.»
«I highly doubt there's any left, but I'll take whatever scraps I can get.» He ushered her to the door, even though she had enough strength to walk by herself. «Now get going; I'll have your wheelchair and crutches sent to you by tonight. And make sure you use them whenever you need, okay? I mean, pretending to be strong and independent is sexy and all, but so is accepting help when you know you need it.»
«Yes dad.» She grinned and waved goodbye before stepping out and throwing her hood back on. «I'll see you next year?»
He made a shooing motion with his hand, swiping and lighting a cigarette with the other before the door closed on him.
I'll take that as a yes.
AN: Doctor Shamal was actually not in my original plan, but knowing that I needed a scene between Lavina and a doctor, a lightbulb went off inside my head. So yes, now there's a whole backstory behind these two, and maybe I'll do some sort of side-story for them if I ever have a lot of free time on my hands. In the meantime, if you want to read some sort of story featuring the two, check out The Cuckoo Father by Luki Dimension. It's so eerily similar to how I imagined their relationship to be, although there are a few key differences.
Shamal will forever be a pervert, but again, I think this makes him slightly more likeable as a character. Just think that all his flirting is for the sake of forgetting his first love, and for his assassination job where he gets inside information by wooing the ladies. I also find it really appropriate how his main weapons are the same as his healing tools, and how they're all female (as only female mosquitoes sting).
At any rate, I'm pretty satisfied at how this turned out, even though I had to leave out a few things for the sake of reading length. This will also be the first and last time the doc is mentioned, at least for a while. I don't think he'll be back until act II.
Follow, favourite, review - it's become a writer's mantra.