A/N: Sorry for the late update! Was hanging with my friends for the past few weeks. A rare event, I assure you lol.

I'm reading a book called Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. It's pretty great; feel free to check it out.

As always, enjoy!

XIV

Of Parents and the Past

Running was an exhilarating experience. Feeling the cool air enveloping her body as she zoomed past blurred faces, savouring the burn of her muscles as she pumped her legs again and again, focusing on nothing but the wonderful repetitiveness of the motion as she lost sight of the world around her – that was what made it so brilliant.

Strange how, only months ago, the mere thought would've made her wrinkle her nose. One's perspective of life really did alter with time, as the past few months also brought her a new, unsettling outlook on her entire famil—

Tsubame's traitorous thoughts were tossed out of her mind as she collided into someone head-first. Feeling an odd sense of déjà vu (perhaps that was the nausea kicking in) she retreated a few steps while murmuring an apology. However, as she glanced up to meet the eyes of her victim-slash-offender, her frustration faltered. Dread took its place.

Which was ridiculous, considering the girl before her was possibly the kindest person Tsubame had ever met. Actually, that unwavering benevolence probably contributed to her wariness.

Kyoko smiled, unaware of the uncharitable notions stirring in Tsubame's mind. "Sorry, Kishino-chan," she chirped. "I didn't see where I was going." The longer she peered at her, however, the more her smile dimmed. "Is something wrong?"

Tsubame wondered how she looked at the moment. Her eyes were probably wild and crazed, her hair dishevelled and clothing rumpled from her sprint.

In, out. "I'm fine," she claimed, but the way her voice cracked with emotion said otherwise.

Kyoko frowned hesitantly, her eyes warm with concern. "Are you sure?" Her worry seemed so genuine; Tsubame couldn't help but shake her head slightly.

"No," she admitted, keeping her eyes on the grey pavement. "Not really."

Kyoko shifted. "There's this lovely cake store nearby," she said, her voice light and inviting. "If go now, we can make it before they close for the day."

A refusal was on the tip of her tongue. As Tsubame raised her head to meet Kyoko's gaze, though, something stopped her. Kyoko's eyes were shining with eager expectancy, just like they did the time they first met. And Tsubame definitely didn't want to be responsible for snuffing out that light a second time. So she nodded.

Kyoko's blindingly bright grin was almost powerful enough to wipe away Tsubame's bad mood completely.

She allowed herself to be dragged along to the café and made an effort to tune in to Kyoko's constant chatter. It was a wonderful distraction from the thoughts raging through her mind. It was a bit strange, how much of a chatterbox Kyoko was; Tsubame had always pinned her as a quiet person, someone who enjoyed listening to others rather than speaking herself. Then again, it wasn't like Tsubame made a great conversation partner either.

Why on earth was she so kind to her?

It was only when Kyoko giggled that Tsubame realised that, to her horror, her question had been asked out loud. She was about to apologise for her word vomit when Kyoko surprised her once more by actually answering.

"I guess it's because you remind me of myself," she said, playing with a strand of caramel hair.

For a long time, the only noise between them was the rustling of Kyoko's numerous shopping bags. The girl in question was busy gazing skywards while Tsubame stared long and hard at her face. Kyoko was being serious.

"But…" Tsubame toyed with the sleeves of her sweater. "We're like water and oil. You're so nice and gentle, and I'm…not."

Kyoko's gaze probed her curiously. "You give yourself too little credit," she admonished, like a kindergarten teacher would to their student. But Kyoko only had good intentions in mind, so Tsubame let it go with a slight shrug. "I'm not just saying that," she insisted, looking at her straight in the eye. "I know how nice you are. Like that time when you climbed a tree to rescue that cat, even though it kept clawing at you, and how you always help students to the nurse's office and stay to ensure Shamal-sensei takes proper care of them, and," she continued, smiling softly, "how you return the items the very day they're confiscated by the prefects."

It seemed today was chock full of surprises. Tsubame could only stare in wide-eyed shock. "How…?"

Kyoko's lips curled into a coy smile. "I see and hear things. The people around me tend to talk a lot, and Hana-chan's always great at gathering information."

"That's impressive," she said, slightly awed. "Kinda creepy, but impressive."

Was that relief she spotted in Kyoko's eyes? Maybe she was imagining things.

She continued, "I can sort of see what you mean about us being alike."

"Oh," murmured Kyoko, sobering somewhat. "That wasn't what I meant." Her long, delicate fingers dipped into her shirt, extracting a silver locket that seemed vaguely familiar to Tsubame. Kyoko traced the smooth metal as she spoke, her eyes gaining a misty, faraway quality while her voice dropping a few notches. "This was my mother's necklace. She and my father passed on when I was twelve, and suddenly I had to look after both my brother and myself. I was only in middle school," she said with a wry smile.

"My uncle tried to help out as much as he could, except he lived a few towns away and had his own life to tend to. My brother had a lot on his plate himself, even going so far as to call himself the man of the house. He didn't know how to handle the grief at the time, and I guess he used boxing as an outlet. He wanted to become stronger so he could protect me. Maybe he felt guilty that he couldn't do anything to save my parents…"

She trailed off, and Tsubame wanted to stop her, to tell her that it was okay, that she didn't have to force herself, but she doubted Kyoko would have noticed. She was too lost in her own world, and a selfish part of Tsubame wanted to see where this was all going.

"Well," she continued, in a voice so small Tsubame had to inch closer to catch her words, "I didn't handle the stress very well either. I was so sad and angry and lost – just like you were when you moved here, Kishino-chan."

For the first time during her speech, Kyoko met her gaze. Tsubame was startled by the intensity of Kyoko's golden eyes – they were more radiant than the sun itself. She suddenly understood why so many fawned over her.

Once the initial shock faded, guilt weighed her down like an anchor. Kyoko was so sweet despite—or perhaps because of—her tragic past, yet here Tsubame was whining and griping over her predicament, which seemed hopelessly pathetic in comparison. Petty though it was, Tsubame felt it only fair that she shared her own concerns.

She offered a short, vague recount of what had been plaguing her mind – how pointless all her anger towards her parents had been, how her first and best friend had suffered so much and caused so much suffering in turn, how utterly helpless she was as her whole world spiralled out of control.

By the time she was done, her eyes were burning with unshed tears. They had stopped on the side of the empty street as she struggled to recollect herself, and Kyoko steadied her by enveloping Tsubame's quivering hands with her own.

"Kishino-chan," she said softly, coaxingly, "do you know how my brother and I came to terms with our parents' death? By realising that, as much as we thought otherwise, none of it was our fault. There was nothing we could've done to change things, and it's the same case now. You couldn't have done anything for your cousin back then – you were only five. Your father is a police officer, right? If he couldn't have done anything, then there was no way you could have.

"As for your relationship with your parents…" Her gentle tone grew firm. "You still have the means to make amends, right? You're all alive and well, so you have no excuse. It's like my dad used to always say: 'Yesterday is history, the future is a mystery. Today is a gift – that's why they call it—"

"The present," whispered Tsubame.

"Exactly." Kyoko's eyes flickered to the other side of the road. "Oh, no," she sighed. "The café's closed. Sorry, Kishino-chan."

"Call me Tsubame," she said, smiling for the first time all day. "And I think I got what I was craving." It was perhaps time for her to take her medicine, no matter how bitter. "Bye, Kyoko. Have a happy new year."

A hopeful grin stretched onto Kyoko's lips.

"You're in a good mood," Gokudera noted as he speared another meatball onto his fork.

Tsubame swallowed a bite of pasta. "Really?"

When she had returned home, she had pried open her heart and talked things out with her parents. Now that all the rage had left her body, seeping out like a particularly nasty toxin, she felt light as a feather.

"Yeah," grunted Gokudera, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Spread out before the two were an assortment of dishes – nothing extravagant, but all exceptionally tasty, if she did say so herself. "Your mood shows in your food. When you're happy, it tastes nice."

"My food always tastes nice," she said with a smirk. "Now shut up and eat your balls."

Emerald eyes sharpened into a glare, but Tsubame could tell Gokudera was more amused than affronted. "So, I'm guessing this means that you're not leaving Namimori with your parents."

She hummed an affirmation. Her parents had left once she announced that she would stay, and though they disagreed at first, neither of them were eager to damage this new, precarious harmony between them. It was as fragile as glass, and the slightest nudge would cause it to crack. So they backed down, although not without a few warnings.

Part of her was relieved at their departure. Sure, their relationship wasn't so rocky now, but the most she could do was tolerate them. They were so naturally catatonic, so she could only take them in small doses at a time. Like chocolate, or poison.

"Good," Gokudera muttered, seemingly to himself.

But Tsubame heard anyway. "Good?" she repeated, lips curling in amusement.

Her dinner partner's eyes grew wild and panicky, like that of a cornered animal. "I meant it's good for Tenth and the Family!"

"You're part of the Family," she pointed out. "So you're saying that I'm indispensable? I didn't know you cared so much for me, Gokudera."

"No, that's not what I—!" But he was cut off by Tsubame's snickers, which grew louder the redder his face became. "Tch. You're so cheerful now, it makes me sick."

Tsubame simply smiled in response.

Gokudera, on the other hand, didn't share her good humour. While she obviously benefited from her encounter with her parents, Tsubame soon learnt that her neighbour experienced the contrary.

It began at midnight. At first, Tsubame was confused – why was she up? Silence greeted her for the few seconds, and nothing warranted her attention. She was about to dive back in her covers when she heard it.

Something was moaning and muttering in distress. All traces of sleep were wrenched from her system, and Tsubame waited with baited breath for some supernatural spirit to drag her off and into the pits of hell.

When nothing happened, she was forced to get up and investigate. As she passed by her kitchen, she grabbed her salt shaker just in case. The noises were increasing in frequency and volume as she stalked through her living room, and when her paranoia petered somewhat, she realised with a jolt what the source was. Rather, who it was.

Concern quickly replaced her fear. Tsubame ducked through the gaping hole in her wall and into Gokudera's apartment. Her suspicions proved correct when she placed her ear against his shoddy bedroom door. The sounds are coming from in there, alright. Gnawing on her lip, Tsubame silently pried the door open, hoping that what she was about to see wouldn't send her running for the hills and grabbing the nearest bottle of bleach.

What she discovered was arguably worse. Curled up in a tight ball on his bed was Gokudera, who muttered a string of indecipherable nonsense through gritted teeth. The sliver moonlight that managed to penetrate the curtains sliced through the darkness and illuminated his taut form, and Tsubame could see a faint sheen of sweat coating his forehead. As he tossed and turned in agitation, she debated her next move.

Should she stay or go? Her heart went out to him, of course, but waking someone from a night terror could prove disastrous. Besides, she had a feeling Gokudera would be mortified if he realised she had seen him in such a vulnerable state, and an embarrassed Gokudera wasn't a pleasant one. Tsubame was just about to step out of the room when her ears picked up a faint, heart-wrenching, "Mum?"

Suddenly, all her reservations disappeared. The woollen socks on her feet barely made any noise as she crept towards him, though there was the occasional scruff against the carpet. She doubted Gokudera could hear the muffled padding over his torturous thoughts.

Tsubame felt a pang of sympathy shoot through her as she kneeled by his side. The only nightmares she had were over fictional characters, but she suspected she would begin to have some of her own after the bomb dumped into her lap today.

She brought a hesitant hand to Gokudera's face. Using her thumb, she stroked his pale cheek and murmured what she hoped were soothing words. As the groans died down to whimpers and finally into soft snores, Tsubame smiled and rearranged his crumpled blanket so it covered everything but his head. She brushed the hair away from his forehead before opening the window just a smidge, allowing the cool night air to penetrate the stuffy room and hopefully drive any and all nightmares away.

Job done, she left the room feeling infinitely more tired than she had when she entered. She never noticed the two green eyes peering at her through the dark, awake and alert.

A/N: The character development Kyoko needed and deserved tbh

Next up – the Kokuyo Arc!