After the last push-up Hotaru collapsed, uncaring of how dirty the mat would be under her face and what that meant for her skin. Michiru's methods of caring for her health was a spa day with a focus on skin cleansing and hydrating, a far superior method than this.
This? This was torture. She was being tortured. She was going to die, she could taste it, feel it, and as an authority on the subject Hotaru wanted to say she was going to die.
"I'm going to die," she said what might very well be her last words.
It wasn't enough to warrant some kind of emotional response from her torturer.
"You still have two more reps," said Haruka, who had no mercy.
She turned her head so that she was resting on the side of her face, rather than the front. Her nose appreciated this change greatly.
Of the four of them, she and Hana were tied at last. Haru was in the gymnastics club, meaning she already had a pretty strong base to start with for stamina and muscles, but Kyoko was surprisingly close behind her.
"How are you not dying," wheezed Hana, sweat making the hair that had escaped her ponytail stick to her face, flushed an angry red from exertion.
Kyoko smiled sheepishly. "I tag along with onii-chan's training routine at least twice a week."
"Insanity," said Hana, and if she wasn't so tired it might have been an accusation. "Blasphemy. Betrayal."
Hotaru pointed in Hana's general direction because she wanted to show her support of those wonderfully accurate and true statements, but also couldn't speak. Soldier of silence, silenced. Probably for good.
"I did ask if you wanted to join me?" She sounded pleased. How could Kyoko sound pleased? She was too nice to be smug, and yet, on anyone else that tone of voice would have been smugness incarnate.
Hana was unaffected. "And I said no because your brother's training routine is insane. He's insane. I'm not insane."
Kyoko didn't refute that, and from what Hotaru knew of her extreme brother, that was very likely true.
And now, all four of them were in the spartan hell that Haruka was putting them through because they were friends and friends didn't let one suffer alone.
Hotaru didn't want to blame Haru, but she also blamed Haru for this all starting. Not the acid attack, because that wasn't her fault.
No, the coming home and agreeing with Haruka when the blonde seized the opportunity to put Hotaru through training as Tomoe Hotaru. Sailor Saturn could handle herself, but that was as a sailor soldier, transformed and protected by the planet of silence. Haruka wanted Tomoe Hotaru, human being with some special powers leaking through from her soul, to be able to defend herself if such a thing ever happened again.
The logic was sound, but that required physical exertion. A lot of it. So far, she had gotten away with it, but Haru's insistence made it impossible to run away from it anymore. She had even, out of pure kindness, gotten Kyoko and Hana involved with it, after hearing they had a near-run in with another Kokuyo student that could have gone southwards were it not for the intervention of a teacher from Namimori.
Truly, Haru had been fueled by nothing but kindness and consideration, but the road to hell was paved with good intentions, and that path was being carved on her very muscles and bones right this second.
Kyoko, Haru and Hana had discovered, quickly enough, just why Hotaru had worn an expression that only those resigned to a terrible fate, like the electrical chair, usually donned. By then there was no backing out – Haruka had them, and she wasn't going to let them go.
She sighed. At least Haru had understood the reason why they couldn't just report to the police about their attacker – it was hard to explain why a random attack with acid had left no damage on her, and she really didn't want them digging.
That didn't mean, however, that her parents weren't out for blood. Sure, the culprit was human, which meant that he couldn't just be hit with an attack and disintegrated on the spot, but at the time even Michiru had looked ready to hit her skeletal attacker with her mirror. Not even with a Submarine Reflection, just as a blunt weapon. Repeatedly.
When Hotaru tried to point out that it was the most ignoble way to use a treasure like the Deep Aqua Mirror, Michiru had merely smiled and smacked it against one open palm, like she was practicing swinging it into a skull in a manner not unsimilar to a tennis swing. Hotaru gave up after that.
It was a phone call the next day that broke them out of their rage, a call from Kawahira.
His first question had been to ask if she was alright. No greeting, straight to the point.
"I'm fine," she had said. "I healed."
"Physical wounds are easy to heal," he said, and let the unsaid question hang.
"I healed," was what Hotaru repeated, and much like his unsaid words her own answer unspoken hung, able to fall either way. Not a lie, not a truth, and therefore not neither, because silence was sometimes just the absence, but it could also mean something.
It wasn't like she hadn't had worse, anyways.
"Hmm," he said in response, not contradicting her, but also making it obvious that he didn't believe her. "If you say so. Then moving on – would you like revenge?"
"What?"
"Revenge. Vengeance. Retribution. Payback. Do unto the culprit what he did, sevenfold – or more."
"I don't think that last one is an accurate definition of the word." It was also slightly disturbing. "Wait – you know where he is?"
"I do, and that's why I am asking what you wanted." Hotaru could imagine him idling, one hand holding the phone to his ear and the other doing something to keep it occupied. Playing with the ring he wore, maybe, or tangling and untangling his fingers on the cord of the phone. "He and a few friends of his were rather nasty fellows, wanted for several crimes. Shortly after running into you and your friend, they were captured and taken back to Europe."
What were criminals from Europe doing in Japan? There was something so weird about this town.
"They'll be serving several life sentences in a high-security prison for their crimes," Kawahira informed her, almost cheerfully. "Not including, of course, their attack on you."
And that was why he had called to ask, what she wanted. Because technically, she could press charges, except then the only 'crime' they could pin onto her attacker was an attempted assault.
"Does he remember me?" she asked, already knowing what he would say. Kawahira liked to portray a lazy persona, but he was, at his core, someone who had lived for centuries, slipping on different identities and manipulating memories.
"No."
Not that she wasn't glad to hear that a creep who went around dressed in a junior high uniform attacking actual junior high students was in prison, out of society, but . . . "And he's serving time because of what he did, not because of anything you did?"
"They are paying for the consequences of their actions, and no more," he promised. "I'd rather not get into listing all their crimes, but they really were very terrible people. No one would have blamed you, had you transformed and smote him down with the full wrath of a sailor soldier. Preferably focused on him alone, since, you know, but still completely understandable."
It was nice of him to condone murder in her defense, but Hotaru felt defensive over her decisions. "You told me to refrain from using the power of Saturn in town, around others."
"That I did," he said, with a sigh. "I would have much preferred, though, that you not been injured, so maybe I should have made that clearer – it would be preferable if you didn't use a large amount of magic but prioritize yourself first and foremost."
There was no sign of it in his voice, but Hotaru could read the reason behind his words. Kawahira felt guilty for her injury. "He was human."
Not a monster, born of dark magic. Not a demon, created out of dark desire. Not a magical being set on invading this planet.
He was a criminal, a terrible one, from what Kawahira hinted and what Hotaru extrapolated based on what he did and tried to do, but still –
A human being. A mortal person, whose life would be so short compared to the long life she would live.
Hotaru didn't doubt that all those years waiting for her in the future would be meaningful for her, because so long as she was Sailor Saturn, so long as she – so long as they – had their princess, there was meaning.
But that didn't mean she could ignore other lives. No one could, but not her, especially not her, who knew best the weight and the significance of death.
Besides, he hadn't even been a threat. The two strangers had arrived just after and had taken him down.
She was fine. Truly.
Kawahira muttered a phrase of exasperation in an old language, one likely dead by now. It was only the magic in her that let Hotaru understand what he lamented, about those in his life always taking the hard path.
"Sorry."
"Please don't apologize for caring about people – even those that, arguably, might not deserve it." Kawahira sounded exasperated.
He made her sound so noble, when in reality it was merely holding back on excess retribution. She hadn't made some great sacrifice.
"It's not that I'm sorry for – it's you being stressed by it." She doubted that her requesting revenge would have made Kawahira feel better, either. He was efficient, and revenge was unnecessary cruelty. He also had a lot on his plate and didn't deserve additional stress. Even after taking into consideration his remarkable longevity, that was good for no one.
"It's fine, it's fine." Kawahira sighed again. "Just – take care of yourself."
She was fortunate, that everyone in her life cared about her so much. That was all she needed. "I will."
"That's all I can ask for. Final question – did you want me to erase your friends' memories?"
Right. Hotaru exhaled. There was also that. Her heart had nearly dropped yesterday.
.
On one hand, the news that Takeshi and Tsuna were in the hospital really was terrible news, but at least it had also let her escape the house, where Michiru had been ready to go on the warpath. It was probably going to be worse when she got back, and Haruka and Setsuna were inevitably alerted to what happened, but still. She could leave that for her future self to deal with, and focus on her friends being hospitalized, which, what.
"That's really hypocritical of you," Haru pointed out. She had also escaped with Hotaru, trembling in fear at the terror that was a furious Michiru, so she had no right to say that.
"It's not," Hotaru insisted, because it wasn't. She was a sailor soldier, with everything that came with the authority she was born with. Magic. Power. She could heal.
Why were Takeshi and Tsuna in the hospital? Was it that fight between Kokuyo and Namimori Middle Schools?
When they got there, a room of four beds all filled by people they knew was identified for them. They were lying in bed, but at least some of them were awake, judging by the low conversation going on.
Well, there went her plans to heal Takeshi and then pretend to be relieved he wasn't as badly hurt as she imagined. Tsuna, too. Maybe she could stick around until they were all asleep?
"Knock knock," said Haru, rapping her knuckles against the doorframe. "Guess who came to visit?"
Tsuna was asleep, as seen in the complete lack of reaction from his bed, but Bianchi and Gokudera both turned their heads towards the door. Takeshi, whose bed was closest to the door, also turned, and his eyes widened when they landed on Hotaru.
"Hotaru!" Takeshi nearly jumped into a sitting position when he noticed her, and then winced in pain. Clutching at his ribs, he still pulled himself up to a better angle to see her. "Are you alright?"
"I feel like I'm the one who should be asking that question?" Hotaru said, exasperated. Really, the patient asking the visitor if she was alright, who did that?
Takeshi didn't laugh like he usually would at the logic. Hotaru's exasperation was replaced with concern.
"What?"
"What happened?" Haru asked, eyes flitting all over in concern. They finally landed on Reborn, who was resting at the foot of Tsuna's bed. His hat hid his eyes, but it looked like he was sleeping as well. "Is Reborn-chan okay?"
"Yes, just tired." Bianchi gave them a wan but welcoming smile. For some reason, she was wearing goggles, but Hotaru decided to not ask about her sense of fashion in the hospital. Maybe she had an eye problem or something. "Hotaru . . ."
The hesitation was laden with a lot of things unsaid, and Hotaru blinked. Come to think of it, Takeshi wasn't the only one that was weird. Gokudera was almost trembling like he wanted to burst, staring at her with an intensity bordering on being creepy. It was highly unusual behaviour for him. Usually, his attention was on Tsuna.
"Hahi?" Haru looked at the pink-haired older girl and then back at Hotaru. On their way here, the idea that their friends were hurt had pained Haru greatly. It hurt Haru even more, clearly, when she took a deep breath and told Hotaru that unless she could do so privately, in secret, unless it was absolutely terrible or life-wrecking or in need of anything on par with a miracle, to not heal them.
Because Hotaru was also her friend and Haru would help protect that, and that had been all-too-clear to Hotaru with that one quiet request.
Haru's taking on the guilt in an effort to protect Hotaru, though, turned out to be completely irrelevant.
"We saw you get attacked with acid," said Takeshi, and Hotaru finally realized what that out-of-place emotion on his face was.
Guilt.
Why?
What slipped out of her mouth wasn't that, however. "How?"
It was Gokudera that answered before Takeshi could say anything. "Birds had these cameras and was transmitting a feed, and we saw through that."
"Cameras?" Haru sounded strangled. For good reason, because if they saw the attack, then it was logical to think that they saw what happened next.
All Hotaru could say to that was, "Who is Birds?"
And why was he transmitting a feed through cameras? How did they even see them?
"A jerk," said Gokudera at the same time Bianchi said, "No one you need to be concerned about – we took care of the footage."
Takeshi was just a second behind the siblings. "You don't have to worry about him."
Which, spoken with good intentions meant to make her not worry, clearly, but only served to make her even more worried.
"What about the guy who attacked us?" she asked, making gestures in what she thought to be a skeletal figure, but was probably just random hand movements. "Did you see me-"
If they saw her heal, they had probably seen the skeletal person in the Kokuyo uniform attack her.
"You don't have to worry about him either," Takeshi promised with the solemnness of someone making a blood oath. "And yes."
There was so much that made her worry in those words and Hotaru wanted to bury her head in her hands. Other factors may also have been involved in this desire.
"You're taking this really well," she said in the end, deciding to procrastinate on untangling her emotions and shoving it aside where she couldn't see it, and therefore could pretend it didn't exist.
Bianchi shrugged, and lightly grimaced. "If it's any comfort," she offered, voice gentle. "We don't judge."
But you don't know, Hotaru thought quietly, almost despairingly. You really don't.
"And we won't tell anyone." Surprisingly, it was Gokudera, of all people, who said that. His eyes were – sparkling?
Hotaru nearly did a double-take. Gokudera's eyes were sparkling. It was not, as far as she could tell, an illusion. And she couldn't sense any magic or signs that this was a fake pretending to be Gokudera, meaning it was just Gokudera Hayato in the hospital bed, bandaged, looking at her like she had just come out of a lamp to grant him three wishes.
It was very confusing, and contradictory of the usually abrasive boy.
"Promise?" she asked instead.
Gokudera nodded so hard that she worried he might hurt his neck.
"If it's hard for you to have faith in us," offered Bianchi. "How about this? You could heal some of our wounds and then we'd be beholden to you, and therefore obligated to keep your secret. A quid pro quo."
That, if anything, snapped her out of her numbness. "You don't have to owe me," she said. "Just – don't tell anyone, please."
Bianchi promised, and Gokudera swore on the Tenth – what he called Tsuna. It was a little funny and made Hotaru laugh.
She healed Takeshi first, because she figured it would be best for Gokudera and Bianchi to see how it worked, and of everyone here, Takeshi was the only one who had experience as to what it felt like.
He offered her his arm – which, he really needed to stop hurting, because even if she was around, he loved baseball and that sport required arms. And running, but arms were important.
"How did this happen?" she asked, putting a hand close to the area. It was bandaged pretty heavily.
Takeshi regained his ability to smile, and gave her a sheepish one. "I got bitten."
By what? But he didn't expand, only smiled.
"Do you need to be touching the area to heal the injury?" Gokudera asked before she could press Takeshi for a better answer. Haru also, despite her initial surprise and wariness, scooted closer, curiosity winning out. There was going to be a dress-up in the future, her Haru-senses warned her. Haru would find a way to make it relevant to this new discovery and there would be a dress-up.
Hotaru paused and shook her head. "Just touching the person." It was something she learned via healing Haruka, who always had the most minor of injuries, so she hoped it applied.
"What does it feel like?" Haru asked, and Hotaru struggled to find a better way to phrase 'like healing magic, but slower and weaker than the Silver Crystal or being reborn'.
"It's a nice feeling," Takeshi said, while she worked her magic. Over on the other bed, Reborn stirred a little, but otherwise stayed asleep. He didn't look injured, from what she could see, and Bianchi didn't voice her concern for him, so for now Hotaru didn't prioritize him. "Warm. Like – ticklish, but not really. Fluffy except not?"
"You suck at explaining," Gokudera said flatly, and that was more like his normal self. His usual expression was soon replaced by the same excited, awed look, though, as he went back to staring at the light spilling from Takeshi.
Bianchi stopped her from fully healing Takeshi. "Just so the doctors don't get suspicious," she said, and Hotaru realized that she was right.
All Takeshi was left with were some superficial wounds. It would probably be suspicious still, but her friend was more important, and it was far less suspicious than just having no injuries.
"It hurts a lot less now," he said cheerfully, experimentally rotating his arm and flexing his fingers. "Thanks!"
Gokudera volunteered next, and he stared unblinkingly at his wounds – he peeled back the dressing on his chest to see for himself – the light, and her.
"It's a little slow," Hotaru said, a little defensive under the intense gaze.
For faster, more effective healing, it was either Usagi or Mamoru who could do things like that. Miracles and life.
"I'm not complaining," said Gokudera immediately. "This is a lot faster than regular, natural healing, anyways, and hella lot cooler. How does it work?"
It was undoing destruction, because that was under her domain, but it was always easier to destroy than to build, to fix, and there were limits.
"Not exactly special," she said lamely. Because it was a small, one-sided aspect of her powers, and destruction was necessary for renewal. "Just – minor healing. I can't do anything serious." Any serious healing, unless 'end everything' counted as a form of healing accepted by most people, which it absolutely wasn't. Not a lie.
"Like what?"
This was a day when she was seeing a very different side of Gokudera, and it was clear that she wasn't the only one thrown off by this. Unlike Hotaru, Haru recovered faster.
"Gokudera-san," growled Haru, who had trailed after her. "Stop harassing Hotaru-chan when she's being nice and healing your injuries."
"I'm not harassing her!" He scowled but tried to straighten his face when his eyes caught Hotaru looking at him. "I'm just curious! Do you have any idea how cool this is?"
"I have eyes and a brain, so yes, I might have an idea. But Hotaru-chan is more than just healing lights!" Haru snapped. "She's always been cool and wonderful and amazing!"
Hotaru flushed and ducked her head. That was probably enough for Gokudera, she thought, and let go of him, so she could move onto Bianchi.
"Hayato's always been a fan of magic," the older girl said fondly, while Haru and Gokudera bickered. "He loved magic tricks when he was younger, too."
Hotaru hid a wince. "Magic, huh?"
Bianchi smiled, and Hotaru blinked in surprise when a feel of something rushed over the pink-haired girl's body – something not threatening, but almost like a cloying scent, of maybe an overripe berry, or apple vinegar. It was different, and yet similar, to the kind of magic that ran in the more spiritually sensitive people, the ones more open to magic. People like Rei's grandfather, who gave the aura of incense, and aired-out wooden halls of a shrine. Like the old priest Bianchi's was far weaker than Kawahira's mist-like magic, but still.
"Magic," Bianchi agreed, winking. "As well as aliens, spirits, demons and cryptids."
It said a lot about her life, that Hotaru could reasonably find an association with basically all of the things Bianchi listed Gokudera having. She just nodded and focused on healing Bianchi, who had indirectly revealed something secretive about herself to make her feel better. Hotaru appreciated that bit of thoughtfulness.
"Does he know?" she asked, quietly.
"He knows but doesn't understand," Bianchi replied.
And then there was Tsuna, who was still asleep, and Hotaru didn't wake him.
"But Tsuna won't tell anyone, either," Takeshi promised on his behalf.
Hotaru nodded. That was what Tsuna would do, she agreed. She began to reach out to Tsuna, and then blinked, sure that her eyes were playing tricks on her.
They weren't.
The blessing that had been around Tsuna's heart, the soft light of the Silver Crystal Usagi had left him years ago, had finally been used.
Hotaru looked down at Tsuna's sleeping form. Quiet, exhaustion clear in every line of his body, breaths even and unbroken in deep slumber, but – there was a sense of restfulness, as if he had accomplished what he wanted, even with all his injuries.
It was used in the right way, Hotaru knew without knowing the context. Whatever the blessing had been exhausted on, it had been to make Tsuna happy.
Hotaru reached out to touch Tsuna's wrist.
.
"I think it's okay," she said. "They promised to not tell."
And it wasn't the whole truth about who she was, what she was, but – it was nice to not have to hide things from her friends. Nice to have friends who knew, even a small part of it. "And – at least this way if they get hurt, I can help them?"
Kawahira's voice was the definition of 'deadpan' when he responded. "Teenage boys are incredibly reckless, even without knowing someone who can heal them. You may have just enabled their unfounded belief that they are invincible and invulnerable."
"They're not that bad." Hotaru put the fact that they had all ended up in the hospital for injuries in one fell swoop, like some kind of twisted parody of musketeers, far in the back of her head because this was extenuating circumstances. Did that make Bianchi d'Artagnan? All for One, and One for All. "And I told them I couldn't do things like growing missing limbs, so. I think they'll be careful."
"That premise relies on the assumption that they will be able to take and make good use of that advice," said Kawahira flatly. "Boys in that age range are stupid."
Unable to offer a better argument, Hotaru just shrugged, and then remembered that for all that Kawahira liked to wear an air of knowing everything, he couldn't see through the phone. "I can hope."
"As befitting the soldier of hope," he said in a dry voice. "If you are certain."
"Not going to argue further?" she asked, only half-joking. A part of her said that it was a stupid idea, but another, louder part pointed out all the non-soldiers who knew her family's secret – and were still friends, still treated the powerful women like regular people in their lives.
Hotaru would have been lying if she said that she didn't want something like that, and while she was too much of a coward to make the full leap, maybe, just maybe –
Well, like she had said earlier. She could hope.
"I can't see the future," he said, matter-of-factly. "And besides, even mistakes are important parts of our lives. I can't demand that you live accommodating to my paranoia or my brand of mad methods."
The part about mistakes might have sounded pessimistic, but that was just his usual style of speech. If he was adamantly opposed, Kawahira would have used far stronger language, or simply said so.
"Thank you," Hotaru whispered.
And that, she figured, would be the end of it.
Until Haruka got her, and three of her friends, and she wondered, briefly, if it wouldn't be the better choice to just pretend it never happened. Ignorance was bliss, right?
"Burpees, come on. Jump! Feet off the ground, hands to skies!"
"I thought," wheezed Hana, "that you said Haruka-san is a racer. Car racer. Like, driving cars."
She's also one of the best physical fighters in a group of very powerful warriors born to protect the planets of the solar system, Hotaru thought ruefully and didn't say. Their last burpees looked like the dying protests of melting snowmen against the inevitable coming of spring.
"She's also an expert in judo and talented at basically every and any sport known to mankind," she said instead, misery dripping from every word.
Hana made a sound that might have been a terrified sob, and Hotaru felt like weeping right alongside her.
"She's so cool," said Kyoko dreamily.
"Right?!"
Hotaru truly envied their optimism. And also the fact that they had a good grip on their breath.
"Flattery's nice," said Haruka, a corner of her mouth turned upwards in a smirk, "but save your breath. Give me crunches, come on."
"Crunches," Hana repeated in horror. "The name itself is a clear warning – the human body shouldn't crunch."
It was the pinnacle of logic, the most convincing argument Hotaru had ever heard. She wanted it engraved on her tombstone as a warning to future generations to come, lest they make the mistake of daring to make their body crunch.
They still did it, and Hotaru couldn't say with absolute certainty that there was only sweat running down her face.
.
Hotaru and Haru had been attending Takeshi's baseball games since they were young, bringing along drinks, snacks, and large signs declaring their support of him in bright colors. There had been one year when the two of them had been mistaken for his girlfriends by different members of his team, and that had been an interesting game when the mistaken beliefs clashed, and until now she thought there would be no topping that one in terms of eventfulness.
The fall game this year was no exception, but it was also the largest cheer group that attended in support of Takeshi ever. A month after their hospitalization -and her healing – everyone was well, and more than able to sit in the bleachers to watch the game.
When he hit a home run, even Hotaru jumped to her feet to cheer as he ran around the bases with a speed she certainly wouldn't have bothered with had she hit a ball that far. She would have walked, and everyone who knew her would agree with that assessment.
Did she like baseball? No, Hotaru would answer if asked. Not just because it was a sport that involved running as fast as she could in a circle so she could come back to the exact location she just left, but also because it nearly made Takeshi make a very dumb decision once.
But he shone so brightly when he played, so what could be done about that? Takeshi wasn't going to do something nearly as stupid now – and Hotaru was reassured in her own power, that if he was ever hurt again he wouldn't be falling to despair because she could help with that – so there was no reason for her to resent the sport.
The distance made it hard for her to make out his features, but Hotaru knew what he would look like, smiling brightly with pure joy, open smile wide on his lips. Even when sweat was running down his face, even as dirt stained his uniform, he would be undoubtedly happy.
That was all that was necessary, wasn't it? That Takeshi was happy?
Gokudera and Kyoko's brother began yelling, and Hotaru decided, after hearing just what they were yelling, that their brand of cheer was unnecessary to pay attention to. Starting riots at games was just barbaric and yelling at a team that had clearly worked hard to quit and start a different sport was very rude.
As if the batter after Takeshi agreed with it, a foul ball flew their way. Far too high to hit any of them, Hotaru tracked its curving arc with her eye until it went out of her sight.
"At least they're having fun?" Kyoko offered with a slightly strained smile while Haru turned around to give Gokudera a deadly glare for being so loud and disruptive. "But they're being awfully loud-"
"Ah!" The fierce gaze of a girl who fought like a warrior of legends for what she believed for and loved turned wide with surprise. "Gokudera-san!"
The next minute, there was a crash, and alarmed, Hotaru turned in her seat, away from the baseball field for the first time to see that Gokudera had fainted. Above his head, Bianchi, holding a glove with the foul ball that had flown over their heads,
"Did he get hit in the head?" asked Hotaru, worried that he may have sustained brain injury. Futa, who had been sitting on the bench just in front of them with I-Pin and Lambo, clambered closer with concern on his face, still round with baby fat.
Tsuna, who had been sitting next to him, held both hands to his head in the universal gesture of someone desperately trying to soothe their sudden headache. "Why does this kind of mess always happen?!"
"He wasn't hit," answered Bianchi, who checked his head carefully. "He's probably just feeling a little weak from hunger. Luckily I brought lunch with me."
He didn't seem the type to easily collapse from low blood sugar, but Bianchi was his sister, so Hotaru figured she knew better. It also did seem quite like Gokudera to not feed himself properly despite such a condition only to end up fainting.
Gokudera opened his eyes, grogginess heavy in his green eyes. They landed on Hotaru's face, on Haru next to her and Futa below, and went above, almost rolling to the back of his skull to see Bianchi's face –
And he promptly shoved himself over to his side to retch. "Bleargh!"
"Gokudera-kun?!" Tsuna reached for him, voice raising in pitch with panic, almost shrieking as if he'd been hit.
"Keep it down over there!" shouted someone from behind them.
Hotaru glanced back towards the field. Takeshi had already finished his run around the bases and was waiting, but she caught him at a moment when he was looking towards the section where they were, rather than to the field.
It was loud, and far more chaotic than the previous years, but somehow, Hotaru got the feeling that he didn't dislike it. She certainly didn't.
Curving her lips, she waved towards him. It was too far to make out the features of his face clearly, but Hotaru knew he was smiling under the shade of his baseball helmet as he waved back, using his entire arm to do so.
AN: Finally, a Hotaru POV. It's been a while. And with that the Kokuyo arc is finally over, we just need an interlude and then it's the Varia Arc.
Will the girls be fighters? Not in the main storyline, no. Haruka's teaching them basic self defense things – like how to break out of a hold, how to get someone pinning you down off, stuff like that. The hell training is basically her seizing this opportunity to build up Hotaru's stamina, because it won't hurt (despite Hotaru's protests that it does hurt, a lot).
With that being said, one day I want to write an AU / one-shot of a future focused on the girls. May the gods have mercy on the idiots that try to go for them thinking they're weak because I sure as hell am not.
Speaking of AU one-shots, for those who voted for or are interested in Chrome/Hotaru, Palingenesis will be uploaded on February 1st along with Interlude III to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Petrichor!
+ﾟ*｡:ﾟ+
Hana: I'm dying.
Hotaru: same.
Haru: It's hard work but we can do this!
Kyoko: Extreme!
Hana: I hate them so much right now.
Hotaru: same.
+ﾟ*｡:ﾟ+
Sweet Dreams~