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Chapter 21
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I'm binge watching a series in the living room when the doorbell rings.
I straighten from my slouch, leaning forward to snatch the remote from the coffee table to pause the episode. I had wrapped a blanket around my head and shoulders like a shawl, and I'm in such a hurry to see who could be at the door that I nearly trip over the fabric as it tangles around my bound ankle.
"Fuck!" I whisper, kicking the blanket away to hurry to the security-box. When I touch the screen, it lights up with the image of several people. People I have never shared this address with. People I was never expecting to see here.
The first thing I think is: Fuck—I haven't even gotten the chance to clean yet!
And the second is: Reborn.
Because it's always Reborn. It could only. ever. be. Reborn.
I sigh. Loudly. Tired and worried and frustrated—
I press on the mic to say, "Hey."
Tsuna jumps at my voice, and from what I can see from the tiny screen he looks good. He looks healthy and well and that relieves me. He's here with everyone at my house—at the home I have raised Yuni in and—
I can't turn them away. Not now that they're here.
But… But the fact that Reborn is even here, in this place that's supposed to be mine, has my anxiety physically crawl through my skin—
Fuck.
Fuck.
I take a deep breath.
"Come in, everyone." I say, unlocking the front door from the security-box.
Tsuna doesn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. The moment Reborn suggests they visit Haru, the first thing he thinks is:
Yes!
Because he had hounded Reborn for any news about Haru the whole week she was gone. Even after he had started getting replies from her while in the hospital he would continue to ask Reborn about her condition because—
A little part of him believed she would belittle her injuries.
And he was right.
But now she's back, and Reborn has just suggested that they visit Haru, and he's once again curious…
Because he hadn't thought to know where Haru lived.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he had assumed Haru lived with her parents. And when Reborn told him otherwise…
All he can think is: Do I know Haru?
Does he… really know her…?
Suddenly he begins to wonder: What do I know about Haru?
He knows Haru's father is a professor of mathematics at Nagoya University. He knows Haru's mother is half-Italian and a painter currently working on a gallery series. He knows Haru is an only child and that she prefers coffee in the mornings and tea in the afternoons.
But he doesn't know anything else.
And it's strange… because it feels like he knows Haru…
But it also feels like he doesn't.
So when Reborn leads them up a mountain trail…
And they're almost fifteen minutes well into the forest—
He sees a house that is… not what he had been expecting.
It's big. Very big. Maybe twice, maybe even three times as large as his own home. There's no fence, or any indication of property boundary. The house is just there. Tucked into the side of the mountain. Surrounded by trees and wilderness like it wants to hide from society.
It's two stories tall, and the shape of it is more modern than traditional. But already, as—he, Gokudera, and Reborn riding on Yamamoto's shoulder—walk the well worn path to the front of the house, Tsuna can see strips of engawa* on the first floor.
Modern traditional fusion? He wonders to himself, feeling Yamamoto pause over his right shoulder. The taller boy's neck is bent back, looking almost straight up to the second floor wrap around balcony. "Wow," He says, with a grin, "This place is huge!"
Reborn grunts in approval, but doesn't look impressed in the slightest.
"Tch!" Gokudera spits to the side of the worn path, and manages to grumble something around his cigarette. The way he speaks makes Tsuna feel like he's swearing, and he can't really make anything out but the words, "adults" and "money" in there.
Ah ha ha... He can guess at what Gokudera is trying to say…
They're close enough for them to see the family name plaque next to the door now. It reads Shizuka, and Tsuna can recognize the kanji for, "quiet," and "satisfactory," in the family name.
Huh. Something about that is interesting to him. It isn't a common spelling for such a name.
It's more literal than he imagined—
"Hurry up, Dame Tsuna." Reborn kicks the back of his head for greater emphasis on the demand. The younger male yelps at the kick, forehead nearly slamming against the front door. He somehow manages not to faceplant against the gray wood—but as he rubs at the spot where Reborn's heel had really dug in… he realizes that he had been standing there, staring at the family name plaque like a loser.
He nearly blushes; Yamamoto's laugh is enough to distract him. "Maa, it's an intimidating house. I can ring the doorbell for you if you want, Tsuna."
Gokudera is quick to fluff up like a cat, "Tenth doesn't need you to do anything for him!"
Tsuna doesn't need to look to know that Gokudera is getting in Yamamoto's face. He can hear Yamamoto start to say something with, "Maa—" but he rings the doorbell before the situation can escalate.
Tsuna thinks Gokudera might keep antagonizing Yamamoto, but—(maybe) out of consideration for Haru... after hearing that she had to be flown to Tōkyō for proper treatment after what happened at Kokuyō Land—he goes quiet at the sound of the doorbell and grunts to himself in resignation.
Tsuna hopes that's the reason, anyway.
(He's a romantic he'll admit).
The brunet expects it, there's even a small click over the voicebox, but he still jumps when he hears Haru's voice come from the metal contraption. "Hey."
Oh.
Haru...
He doesn't realize it until he hears her. Doesn't realize just how much, this whole week and a half—or even as he had walked up this mountain, or even as Reborn had pressured him to turn Kyokō and the kids away from visiting Haru that—
He had been worried about her.
Even more than he had initially believed.
As he hears her voice over the voice-box… He can't help but feel relieved that she's okay.
Before he can respond—before he has the chance to speak through the wetness in his throat—Haru continues, "Come in everyone."
There's an audible click of the door unlocking. Tsuna is still feeling weak from how relieved he is and doesn't make to move, so Yamamoto does it for him. He reaches around the shorter male and slides the door open. It does so silently, and Tsuna's heart is in his ears, he can't be bothered to think that a modern sliding door isn't something he sees nowadays—
Yamamoto walks in first, and it's his movement alone that spurs Tsuna to follow him. He isn't thinking clearly. He's nervous and apprehensive and worried—
"Ojama shimasu*," Yamamoto is the first to say it, but Tsuna is quick to echo him. He can feel Gokudera squeeze in to his left, but he's too busy looking at what little he can see to really pay attention to him.
The genkan is wide enough for the three of them (not including Reborn) to stand in without bumping into each other. The wall directly in front of them is lined with a shoe cabinet, decorated with a few slim books and a painting of watermelons* above it. He doesn't recognize the piece, but he does recognize that there are roman letters on one of the slices. His English is really bad, so he doesn't bother trying to read it.
"Frida Kahlo, huh?" Reborn comments, a small smirk on his face as he looks at the painting.
Tsuna doesn't know who that is, so he ignores him.
It's cool in here, he notices, shuffling out of his shoes. It's starting to get chillier outside, and he remembers Haru mentioning how she prefers the cooler months over the hotter ones.
He steps onto the elevated floor as he hears Haru round the corner into the genkan—he's vaguely aware that there's a room to the left of the entrance, and that the space opens up after that—and he looks up from turning his shoes to point towards the exit for when he leaves—
Oh.
He doesn't mean to, but he hears more than feels his omiyage* slip through his fingers. It makes a dull thump when it lands on the hardwood floor, and Haru's eyes follow it.
Haru…
He suddenly remembers why Reborn had made him turn Kyōko and the kids away.
She's wearing an oversized dark gray shirt, the sleeves long enough to reach her elbows. The fabric is bunched around her collar and chest, from the pressure of the shoulder brace on her right shoulder. It spans her whole upper arm, and a strap stretches across her chest and tucks into her left armpit. She's wearing off-white shorts, and he can see the pristine white bandages peeking from the boxy hem on her right thigh in almost sharp contrast.
And the bruises…
Tsuna's stomach churns at the sight of them.
They're red. Dark red like they're just fading from purple.
But the edges of some of them are turning green. And it's that alone that tells him that they're healing. The biggest one on her face is just under her left eye. And the one on her temple and jaw seem like nothing in comparison to it. Her forearms and hands are fading blotches of color. And the span of her legs… her legs are varying patches of crimson and violet that resemble a collage of wildflowers and…
Tsuna feels sick.
He doesn't know where to look.
Sorry, he wants to say, I'm so sorry—
Gokudera is the first to recover. Or maybe he hadn't been shocked at all.
He's casual and very much himself as he bends at the waist to pick up the plastic bag Tsuna had dropped. He offers it to Haru, completely natural in contrast to her—who moves almost robotically to hold it from the bottom of the paper box inside of it.
"Here," Gokudera's voice is gruff. He had put out his cigarette outside, but Tsuna knows the smell of it still lingers around him. "They're pastries from that cake shop you like. Sasagawa's sister sends them with her well wishes."
Haru looks up at Gokudera. She blinks, almost in surprise, before lowering her head with a soft chuckle. It's breathy, almost like an exhale. And when Tsuna hears it, he knows it means relief. "Thanks." She says, and smiles.
It's a gentle smile. Definitely a relieved one.
A 'thank you,' one.
"Come in," Haru says again, and this time, she looks at Tsuna in the eye before doing the same to Yamamoto over his shoulder. Tsuna can hear Reborn say, "Ciaossu. Good to see you," from Yamamoto's shoulder, and Haru gives him a brief nod. "I'm sorry that I don't have any guest slippers," She says, looking away to lock eyes with Gokudera instead. It's the longest Haru has willingly faced him, Tsuna notices, "we don't usually get any guests up here."
"Don't worry about that," Yamamoto says, and he walks past Tsuna to take the box of pastries from Haru's hands. The plastic bag around it crinkles, and Haru makes a sound of confusion at his action. Her eyes lift to his face as he grins, "I'll take it inside. Where should I put it?"
"Ehh..." She says, and looks like she doesn't know what to do with her hands. They're still in the position she had held the pastry box in, but she drops them to show them inside, "The dining table is fine. I'll get some plates. I'll put some tea out too. Make yourselves at home."
She's cute.
It's this thought that has Tsuna walking forward.
He had been so absorbed in his thoughts about Haru that he hadn't looked at the interior of the house yet. The immediate room to their left is a tea room, lined with tatami and a built-in tea pot heater in the center of the floor. When they walk through the small walkway of the room and genkan, they're presented with the entire first floor. The living room is to the left, right in front of the tea room like a building block, and the open kitchen and dining area are one. The dining table is large enough to seat six people, and is pushed against the long kitchen counter horizontal to it. The large window south of the dining table lets in lots of natural light, and if he turns his head a little, Tsuna can see the engawa he had seen when first approaching the house through the clear glass sliding doors.
When Tsuna walks further in, he can see that the living room has a room divider that can be rolled down from the ceiling like a curtain, to "physically" separate it from the kitchen/dining area. There's a cream colored blanket on the couch, rolled up in a way he recognizes to mean it was used just recently. Haru must have been watching something before they had interrupted her. Curious, he looks at the television, but doesn't recognize the faces of the actors on screen.
Oh. Haru has the subtitles on. And—because this time the medium is something he is more accustomed to (painting and art is still out of his league)—he stares at the lettering to try to identify the language.
It isn't English, even though the letters are roman. And maybe because Reborn has been more open to exposing him to Italian media—to slowly introduce the fact that he will be teaching him Italian one day (once his grades stabilize to satisfactory results)—that he guesses the subtitles to be Haru's second language.
Cute… He thinks again.
He's learning so many new things about Haru today.
He… likes that he is.
"Please sit," Haru says, and her voice makes Tsuna turn towards her. She had picked up her laptop and tucked it into her left elbow while they had looked around—and is quick to grab what he assumes to be an arm sling from the dining table with her opposite hand (as if it's unsightly for them to see).
She's not wearing her arm sling... He thinks, eyeing the arm brace on Haru's right shoulder. Is that okay? Is it okay for her to not wear her arm sling right now?
He doesn't know the difference between the two. He doesn't know which is more beneficial or how—or if, wearing one without the other is how it's supposed to be.
All he knows, as he watches Haru quickly cross the dining area into the living room, is that he's worried about how she's healing.
He's vaguely aware of Gokudera taking a seat at the dining table without any hesitation and Reborn following him. Haru, meanwhile, places her things down onto the coffee table in the living room and turns to pick up the cream colored blanket.
Tsuna notices that she's moving easily. Like she isn't in pain or sore or stiff, as far as he can tell.
She's moving like she's fine, and that—
Huh?
Tsuna… he realizes, can't seem to look away from her. And he... doesn't know why.
It's… because he's worried, right?
Right. It's because he's worried.
It can only be that he's worried.
Haru is now folding the blanket to drape over the sofa. She's quick about it, hands moving with practice and with a smoothness that he has yet to master. She shifts so that her back is to him and he—
—sees it.
He sees marks on the back of her neck.
With the collar of her shirt clumped to one side due to her shoulder brace, the fabric dips enough to expose a large portion of her trapezius muscles. At the base of her neck are two dots, one inch apart from each other. They're pink—like pinches or pricks or even vampire marks, if he had to compare them to anything.
Usually, marks like that would be curious to him. Something coincidental and not to be taken seriously.
But it's the fact that they're layered that unsettles him. Vampire marks one on top of the other, again and again and again, following her spine until they disappear into the dipping collar of her shirt. Until he can't follow them with his eyes anymore.
What…
Something in his stomach drops—
What could those be…?
Those marks were made with purpose—
"Haru, do you mind if I move some chairs around?" Yamamoto calls. His hands are already on the back of one, and judging how the table had three chairs on either side it's easy to assume which pattern he would be rearranging them in.
His voice makes Haru look up, "Yeah," She says, already heading back into the kitchen with a, "Do whatever makes you most comfortable. I'll get started on making some tea."
She's fast. Everything's moving so fast around Tsuna he's having a hard time keeping up his mind is still on those marks but—
"Let me give you a hand, Haru," Yamamoto says, making to move from where he had moved a chair to the end of the table.
Wait— "Yamamoto-kun," Tsuna says, and he startles himself with how clear his voice is in the open space, "You're still recovering. You should take a seat, I can help Haru-san." He smiles—or tries to—the action feels awkward on his face. He doesn't know why. "I'm in the best shape so it makes sense for me to do it…" His voice comes out sheepish. He doesn't know if he meant for it to come out like that or not.
He scratches his cheek, and he's almost embarrassed to look Yamamoto in the face suddenly. He doesn't know why he's explaining his intentions… It's not like he has an ulterior motive or anything...
Yamamoto blinks, in surprise, but he's quick to smile at him. He places a hand on Tsuna's shoulder, and the action is both familiar and almost heavy with the weight of him. "Thanks, Tsuna."
Tsuna smiles sheepishly at the taller male; this time, he can tell the action is not as awkward.
Yamamoto pivots and sits at the dining table. He takes the seat on Reborn's left, the disinterested infant looking around the place almost lazily and ignoring the pianist across from him.
When Tsuna looks at Haru, he nearly jumps to see she had been studying him. He averts his gaze, then realizes there's no reason that he should, and makes himself look at her again.
She's smiling softly at him, and something in his stomach starts to flutter. Something like butterflies or blooming flowers or maybe even his heart just falling into his lower abdomen for the fuck of it. She motions to the kitchen with her head, and even though the only thing separating them from the others is the kitchen counter, it feels like a secret getaway to him.
"The plates are in this cabinet," Haru says, left hand pulling at the vertical handle. She doesn't turn to check how far away he is before she asks, "Could you pass me a few of the small ones? For the desserts."
"Oh!" He stops directly next to her, almost abruptly. He had been following her around the space closely; he hadn't realized how close— "Yes."
The kitchen is big enough to have two, maybe even three, people working in it simultaneously.
And yet… He doesn't know why.
He doesn't know why he's standing so close to her. So close to Haru that he can feel the heat of her.
He's quick to pick out five plates and offer them to her before he can think too much about it.
"Thank you," She says, taking them into her hands. "The mugs are in the cabinet to the right. And the tea is in the cabinet to the right of that."
"This one?" He points at it before he opens it. This cabinet itself is filled with mugs alone. From plain ones to colorful ones and even some for toddlers.
Toddlers…? He hesitates, and Haru—maybe interpreting his pause for indecision—is quick to say, "Any are fine."
He glances over his shoulder as she walks back to the dining table. She's placing the plates down, and is setting utensils she must have gotten when his back was turned. He notices that she's placed a dish in front of the empty seat across from Yamamoto, and another at the end of the table to the right of it.
Seats for them then...
He looks at the mug collection again before he loses his train of thought, and picks five that are most alike. When he walks over to the cabinet that holds the tea, he can hear Haru coming back to him.
And there it is. Among bags of coffee beans and single instant coffee packets. He brings down the loose leaf tea as he hears a familiar click next to him. When he looks, Haru's hand is falling off of the hot water dispenser. "Sorry," She says with a short laugh, as if he had caught her in the middle of making a mistake, "I just got back three hours ago, so I haven't turned it on yet. It should be ready soon though."
Three hours… she had just been discharged then.
That still seemed too early to him.
He closes the cabinet door, loose leaf tea canister in hand. He can hear the others talking on the dining table to his right. And, in the back of his mind, he notes that if he turns his back to them, they wouldn't be able to see Haru anymore.
She'd be completely hidden against him...
"That's okay." He says, placing the tea can on the kitchen counter. He can feel a familiar emotion rise from his chest to his ears at his annoying thoughts: embarrassment. "You only just got back—"
He stops in the middle of his shift, throat nearly closing in surprise.
He had turned his head to reply to her and—
She is standing much closer to him than he had initially realized.
Her hands are on the countertop; her bound shoulder nearly pressed into his chest. She's close. Close enough for him to count her eyelashes. Close enough for him to distinguish all the different layers of waves in her hair. Close enough for him to smell the laundry detergent of her clothes.
And smell her. Smell a deep, smoky scent that he recognizes as Haru. An almost herbal one that might be mistaken for petrichor.
She looks at him. Turns her head fully to face him and—
He doesn't know where to look.
He doesn't know where to look so that he isn't reminded of who and how and why those bruises are on her skin.
So he looks at Haru's unblemished mouth. And this close he can see that Haru has a beauty mark on her lower lip. Right at the edge of the vermillion border. Off center and almost hidden like a surprise just for him.
Oh. He thinks, eyes focusing on the little spot.
Oh...
He…
He wants to—
Her lips are pursing into his name he can't look away— "Tsu—?"
"Haru, where's your bathroom?"
Reborn's sudden voice is like ice cold water being thrown on him.
Haru looks away, shifts her entire body so that she can look at Reborn over Tsuna's shoulder as she answers him. "Past the kitchen here," She gestures behind her, "Two doors down on the left."
"Thanks." Tsuna can't hear the soft pitfalls of Reborn's feet on the hardwood floor.
Suddenly, he thinks that he's never been able to.
And the feeling of his presence alone… as he walks around the kitchen into the hall that leads to the bathroom is almost like a sense of imminence to him.
He reaches for the hot water dispenser, and starts making the tea. He doesn't know if he's imagining the sensation of Reborn's gaze. And he doesn't know whether it's this or the fact that he… that he was thinking… about Haru… to Haru… to Haru he wanted to—
His heart is pounding.
He can feel a flush start to rise in his cheeks.
He's glad that Haru's too focused on Reborn to notice.
He looks at her from the corner of his eye, waiting for the tea leaves to steep. And the carefully blank, contemplative look on her face is a familiar one.
Haru doesn't like Reborn.
And he knows this. But he doesn't know why.
Because Haru doesn't hide her dislike of him. She's blunt about it, even if her words and actions are polite to the infant. It's really her gaze and wariness that are telling of her distaste of the hitman.
But why… when Haru is so kind and patient to the rest of them…
Why Reborn…?
Tsuna is still looking at her. Haru, who is frozen in place—staring at the hallway Reborn had disappeared into. She doesn't move for three whole heartbeats. Three whole heartbeats where she stands completely still, like a still shot or like time is flowing around her. Before Tsuna can even question if everything's okay or not, she's moving to retrieve a serving tray as the tea finishes brewing.
Tsuna does not look away from her once.
By the time Reborn joins them, the four of them are mid-way through their first slices of cake (luckily Tsuna's blunder earlier only smudged the cream a little), and having such a good time that Tsuna can only be happy that they're together again…
"Haru," Reborn says, and maybe it's his imagination—but to Tsuna, it feels like the entire table stills to attention.
There isn't anything strange about the way Reborn talks to Haru. He talks to Haru the same way he talks to any of them.
But it's the way Haru reacts to him—like Reborn isn't worth her time—that has everyone always aware of their words and actions towards one another, "The clean up crew found your weapon. We had it cleaned for you."
The way he says the last word let's Tsuna know his smirk is more in his voice than on his face.
Reborn pulls a box from Tsuna-doesn't-know-where and places it in the middle of the table. Everyone is looking, watching as the gentle expression on Haru's face falls to a more malleable one at Reborn's voice.
It's careful. Carefully blank. Carefully expressed. Gaze staring at the rectangular black box almost apprehensively. If it weren't for the slight furrow in between her eyebrows, Tsuna would have guessed she was surprised.
Haru pulls the box toward her with both hands, and nothing about her movements gives away anything. She isn't cautious when she lifts the lid, but there's a sort of relieved expression on her face when she sees the weapon inside.
Her knife.
No—her tantō.
This is the first time Tsuna is seeing the weapon up close. Haru had always pulled it out and sheathed it as quickly as she could whenever he was around. And if he hadn't been so focused on trying to have Haru sheathe it the last time she had pointed it at Gokudera's throat, he might have inspected it better.
Back then it had been expanded into a spear.
Now, with it before him, it looked like a ceremonial knife more than the deadly weapon he had previously seen her brandish.
The knife lay on a bed of satin—it's partnered sheathe above it. The blade is silver—a thin, shiny, material he recognizes to match those of multiple modern blades. There is no scabbard mouth, just a guard and collar so that the blade doesn't bleed directly into the handle. The handle itself is an ash gray, a soft wood easily discernible from the worn sides. But the most eye-catching thing about the weapon is the dark design on the handle.
Because stare as he might, Tsuna can't put shape or word to the markings on the gray wood. If anything, the more he looked, the more the stains confused him. The scabbard too—of the same ash gray with the same markings as those on the tantō handle—looked like an almost after image of vertigo.
Those markings… the longer he looked at them the more they seemed to move...
It's pretty. Even Tsuna, with his no weapon knowledge, can understand the beauty of it.
Haru looks at Reborn, "Thank you." She says. And for the first time ever, Tsuna believes her words to Reborn to be genuine.
Reborn doesn't reply, but he smiles. The, "Un," tells Tsuna that there isn't anything affectionate about it.
Instead, he says, "Those markings down your back," and everyone stills.
Because this is the first time any of Haru's physical wounds have been mentioned.
Haru's hand flies to the back of her neck. Her expression is surprised, the first clear emotion Tsuna has ever seen her show Reborn. Like she hadn't known the marks were there, or that they were visible (if only partially) to them.
"Are they from a taser?"
Taser.
Taser… The word seems to echo in Tsuna's head.
Taser Taser Taser—
Could Mukuro really have—?
"No." Haru's hand slowly falls back onto the table. The word alone is enough to pause their breathing. Tsuna can almost feel how tense Yamamoto and Gokudera have gotten. "They're from a stun gun."
Tsuna's stomach drops to the floor.
Mukuro… had used a stun gun on Haru not only more than once for the markings to line up, but also so harshly for them to leave near burns on her skin?
They were perfectly even too. Like he had taken his time to line them up properly...
"I didn't take Mukuro for the type." Reborn says, and his voice sounds surprisingly serious.
The type? The type to use weapons? The type to meticulously line up wounds and plan bruises? Had Reborn even looked at Haru?
Haru visibly hesitates. "It wasn't Mukuro..." Her voice trails off almost awkwardly at the end.
What.
Tsuna can't hear anything but the blood pumping in his ears.
If it wasn't Mukuro… then—?
Thump.
There's a thump from upstairs. It's loud and sudden against the silence of my revelation.
My blood runs cold, and Gokudera, Yamamoto and I are on our feet immediately.
Tsuna is frozen in confusion, wide eyes snapping back and forth as Gokudera pulls out his dynamite and Yamamoto reaches for the bat Reborn hands to him—
But I lift a finger to my lips, not wanting the boys to jump to any conclusions considering how far away we are from the city center and what the chances are of there being an attack so soon after Mukuro there isn't supposed to be one last I remembered I can't remember the details fuck I can't remember the details was there an attack so soon after Mukuro—?
A voice.
And I suddenly remember that Fūta is sleeping upstairs.
Fūta.
Holy shit—
And I don't know if the thump is Fūta or if it's the sound of his voice as a warning to us but—
I don't think—
I have my tantō in my right hand and I'm running to the stairs ignoring my name being called behind me I have one foot on the first step ready to jump—
—because Fūta's just a kid—
"—ēchan!"
But Fūta's there. At the top of the stairs. Faster than me.
And his face—
I inhale—
And he's running down the stairs looking wild as if something is chasing him—
"Fūta—?"
He jumps at me, throws his arms around my shoulders and sobs—
And—
I'm not ready for him.
I'm—
The weight of him throws me off balance. And it's only when I'm tilting that I realize I didn't brace myself fast—or hard—enough.
I land on my lower back with a thud—it shakes me from the inside out—swift, hard, and to the point like Ito-sensei's hits. The shock of it travels up my spine like a crashing wave, rattling inside of me and setting everything throbbing.
Fu—ckk—
I grunt, jaw clenching—and somewhere in between the harsh thumping in my ears I hear Tsuna calling my name and the sound of everyone's footsteps approaching us and Gokudera saying he'd check upstairs—
I don't even have the air in me to tell anyone I'm okay—the blow completely knocked it out of me.
Even if I did, I would be lying.
"Haru! Are you okay?" Tsuna's here, one hand on my shoulder and another on my back as he tries to help me sit up.
Everything hurts. Everything feels wrong.
I finally manage to inhale, and when I do—I realize I'm shaking from overexertion.
Fuck, I had thought I had been recovering so well—
"Thanks," I manage to breathe, feeling my temples begin to throb with a headache. I'm consciously clenching Fūta's shirt in a near death grip as a means to control the pain—and no matter how many times I tell myself to relax, I tell myself—"just a little bit more"—the same amount of times.
Tsuna shifts, hands moving to both of my shoulders. He leans close enough for the full length of his right arm to span my upper back, and the heat of him so close to me is comforting.
He's warm.
I can't help but think, I'm glad he's here.
"Fūta," I breathe, finally managing to unclench my hands from his shirt. "Fūta, piccolo, what's wrong? Do you hurt anywhere?"
My hands hurt. If it weren't for the cloth in between my fingers, I probably would have dug my nails into my palms so hard I'd bleed.
Even then, I try to pry Fūta's face from my diaphragm. Try to look at his face and see what has him acting this way.
But he's fighting me—not wanting to peel his head from my torso.
And he's crying. Loudly.
So loudly, that I'm not even sure he can hear me.
"Fūta—" I try again.
"You weren't there…"
What.
Suddenly it's very very quiet in here.
And those three words seem to echo in their place.
You weren't there.
There's a multitude of what he could mean. Ranging from the simplest want to the most dangerous need.
And because of that…
I… don't know what I can say to comfort him.
I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you? I'm sorry I wasn't there for you? I'm sorry I could have died and left you all alone? I'm sorry I didn't try harder to keep you safe?
No. Words like that mean nothing.
Words can only do so much…
So, I don't say anything—just pull him against me for a tight hug. I hold him as tightly as I dare, as close as I'm physically able.
I hold him as he hiccups against my collarbone. As his heartbeat continues to beat hard enough for me to feel it against my chest.
Long and hard enough for me to remember the shape of him. The feel of him.
Long and hard enough for me to feel the tears strain my throat.
Long and hard enough for me to remember how close death is to the living.
"That painting," Reborn says, his voice startling clear in the genkan, "it's Frida Kahlo, isn't it."
The boys pause in putting their shoes on, glancing at the painting behind me. Their gazes are a mix of curiosity and confusion, and I follow their gaze—for appearance's sake—because I already know exactly what painting Reborn is talking about.
"Yes," I reply, absentmindedly running a hand through Fūta's hair. I use the familiar motion to make me move as calmly as possible, make me turn back to the boys and Reborn without giving away any— "It's Viva la Vida, Watermelons*."
Aria had picked it out on purpose.
It's dripping with symbolism—I'm more than sure she thought it would be ironic to have such a painting greet every visitor, greet me, every time I come home.
Because Viva la Vida, Watermelons, was Frida Kahlo's last painting. The title and words she had inscribed into the painting itself translated to, "Long Live Life." And hauntingly, she had painted those words eight days before her death.
Aria had explained to me, in explicit detail (as if she wanted to let me know just how much of a coincidence this painting seems to be reminiscent of me), that watermelons have hard shells that protect the soft flesh inside. At the most basic level, watermelons symbolize the artist herself, who had needed to develop a thick skin to endure a life of physical and emotional pain.
But in the painting itself, she depicts herself cut open. An inner life that is fresh, vibrant and sweet at the first bite. The seeds themselves symbolize immortality and fertility.
Once the fruit is gone, the seeds carry the promise of new life forward into eternity.
Aria also knows, without me having to say, that watermelons relate to the Mexican Day of the Dead. Days where death is celebrated rather than mourned.
The painting itself is a symbolism of the complete cycle of birth and death.
And if we were to put even more meaning to it—even rebirth.
But it's not about the fear of death, nor the longing of continuing life. It's the celebration of life in its most simple and complex emotional expression.
Aria wasn't being subtle when she chose to display that in the genkan.
Despite the possessiveness I have over this home, despite the years I have spent here and the time I have moved and changed and placed anything here, despite the care and love and the association of this place being my only sanctuary my actual home where I didn't need to be wary of being who I am or who I needed to be—I couldn't say 'no' to the one thing she had wanted to place here.
This was the place she had given me.
I was able to be here because of her.
I couldn't deny her. Not after everything she's done for me.
"Curious painting for a Japanese writer to have in her home." Reborn says, and while his voice is low, his words are not. He sounds nonchalant, almost curious—but the look on his face is enough to know he's searching for something.
From me? From Shizuka Yuu? An excuse to be suspicious of me? A loose thread in the tight tight web Aria has woven that I couldn't even begin to untangle?
I wouldn't be surprised if he is.
If anything, I expect him to be.
Aria is a mafia boss for a reason. Her skills are nothing to laugh at.
If anyone could fool the greatest hitman in the world, it would have to be another Arcobaleno.
I shrug, and the action is casual. So casual.
I don't even need to force myself to act anymore. It's becoming too easy now.
Pretending like everything is none of my concern…
"It wouldn't be my first choice." I say, and it's the truth.
If I had had the choice… maybe I would have chosen something more beautifully deadly instead.
I don't know.
Reborn hums, and that's the end of that.
I'm glad he doesn't push it.
"Text me when you get home." I say, turning my attention to the brunet. Tsuna's readable face is a blessed reprieve from Reborn's indecipherable one. It reminds me of how glad I am that he's so him. "It's getting colder now. Get home quickly."
It's autumn now—the days will only be getting shorter and shorter from now on.
And it… feels strangely mundane to be thinking about the weather. About it being a weekday. About these boys having to go to school tomorrow. About maybe even worrying about midterms or some silly school drama that they'll forget in a few months.
Especially when taking into account that they were just visiting a friend who had been attacked by a group of people associated with the mafia…
It's easy to forget that they're still kids.
That I, in this body—in this life—am also still a child.
"Bye, Tsuna-nii. Hayato-nii. Takeshi-nii. Reborn-san." Fūta's voice is croaky as he speaks, and judging by the sound of it, might be completely gone tomorrow.
Something about that is endearing to me… Maybe because he had cried his heart out when he had a tendency to stifle his tears. Maybe because he hadn't felt a need to hold anything back…
Maybe because he felt safe here. Safe enough to fully express his emotions—
I can't help but move my hand from the junction of his neck and shoulder to pull at his ear lobe affectionately.
He clutches my leg tighter in response.
"Will do! See you kiddo." Yamamoto reaches over to ruffle Fūta's hair, and the bubbly giggle he gives is very comforting to hear after his earlier soul wrenching wails.
"Take care, Haru-san," Tsuna says. The look on his face says that he's worrying about me, even after spending hours with me and physically seeing how much better I am than the last time he had seen me.
Granted, I had looked like shit at Kokuyō but…
His expression, his blatantly obvious affection really, makes me soft. So soft that I can't help but to reach over and place a hand on his neck.
He jumps a little at the contact, but doesn't move as I stroke his jaw with my thumb. "I will. Be safe getting home."
Mukuro is gone. Our next obstacle won't come for a while. So we're fine now. I shouldn't worry as much as I am.
I think.
I hope.
"Okay." He says, and his voice sounds strained as he does.
I blink at him, curious at his sudden stiff face, but Reborn interrupts, "Take care, Haru. See you soon."
I want to sigh at his sudden intrusion. But it isn't worth a fight over, so I nod and give him an, "Un," instead.
"See you all." I say, as Gokudera slides the door open. "Text me when you're home, Gokudera."
He isn't my favorite. But Tsuna and Yamamoto like him so…
"As if I'll do such a thing," He scoffs, walking through the door first.
I pretend the comment doesn't irritate me.
"I'll let you know when I drop him off, Haru-chan." Yamamoto says with a grin, raising his hand in farewell. "See you soon. Make sure to rest!"
I wave at him, grateful, and Tsuna is the last to step through the door. "See you." He says, hand on the door.
"See you." I say, smiling at him.
He closes the door behind him, and the clack of the door automatically locking sounds final.
Even though they were just here, even though not even a full ten seconds have passed since their departure, I miss them suddenly. In this large empty space that two people never seem to fill, the absence of them…
In this place that they had filled with their chatter and presence—here, in the space I am most like myself, in the space I am allowed to remember who I am and where I come from—
It feels like I have let them into my heart and I am now letting them leave.
I want to ask them to stay.
I don't want them to leave.
But I can't.
I wait instead.
One. Two minutes before Fūta shifts against my leg and croaks, "Nēchan?"
I raise a finger to my lips, and Fūta blinks, but obliges. I slowly peel myself away from him, signal with my hands for him to stay put, and start searching the house.
I'm thorough as I go, starting from the top floor to the ground one—not wanting to miss anything Reborn might have left behind during his "bathroom break."
Even if he hadn't, the fact he had searched my home while I was in it bothered me all the same.
All I can hope for is that Aria's illusionist contact is powerful enough to hide Yuni's room from Reborn.
I trust Aria. I trust in her abilities and her contacts and her connections and that she would find the perfect person.
But that didn't dispel my wariness towards them though.
Luckily, it doesn't seem that he left anything behind. At least, nothing that I was able to find. Everything is right where it should be, not a figure out of place.
That didn't dispel the certainty that he had looked through our things though.
I exhale, anxious, but try to give up on the feeling. I'm satisfied with my conclusion, and so make my way towards Fūta—who's still waiting for me by the genkan.
When we meet eyes I pause in the space between the dining area and living room.
He's watching me from the area I had left him. Not one inch out of the spot I had told him to stay still in earlier. His eyes are red and slightly swollen from his crying session, the only thing he had moved as I had searched the first level in his line of sight. Even now, he continues to stand still and quietly in complete trust of my actions.
He blinks at me, curious. Maybe at my sudden pause, my sudden silence. But the slight movement alone is enough of a, "Nēchan?" for me.
And I think about how he had invoked Omertà. About how he lost his ranking abilities—the very thing he had known the longest… the very thing that had kept him alive for so long and yet the reason he was hunted but also the very thing to bring him here…
I think about everything he had given up in a split second decision… what he must have been thinking when he gave all of that up for Tsuna at nine years old and…
I don't know what it is precisely that sets it for me.
But in that moment… I know I can't let him go anymore.
In that moment, I come to the decision to tell him.
"Hey," I say, approaching him and crouching in front of him so that we're more at eye level.
He's grown taller since the first time he's come to me. I have to crane my neck a little in order to meet his eyes from this position.
Something in my chest tightens.
Affection. Grief. Knowing that he's growing here, that he had come here to be saved and had given up something so primal and instinct for him in order to stay—
"There's something I need to tell you."
He blinks at me in curiosity.
I inhale—
And it's hard. Because I had never needed to say this out loud.
Aria had always known. Yuni had picked it up from wherever Aria had dropped it, but…
For me to say…
"This…" I say, and I can feel my diaphragm clench, "is really difficult to talk about. But… please be patient with me. I… trust you and want you to know…"
My hands are shaking.
I inhale—
And I tell him.
I stutter and repeat myself and have to backtrack when I lose my original point but—
I tell Fūta about my reincarnation.
And once that's out I can't seem to stop—
I tell him about Nonno. About Aria. About Yuni.
I tell him everything I can't seem to hold in.
Everything comes out and I can't stop everything everything I don't even know what I'm talking about after I mention my family—
I tell him everything Aria knows.
But I don't tell him the one thing Aria can't even imagine.
I don't tell him that this world we live in… This life we are living together…
Hadn't been real to me.
Not until I started to live it.
And he listens to me patiently.
Throughout all of it.
And maybe because it's a habit from writing rankings, but he lowers himself to the ground and starts to write words on the floorboard with his finger. Words I can't discern almost imprinted into the wood with the heat of his fingertip.
He doesn't say anything.
He just writes and watches me with eyes too serious for a nine year old.
And maybe it's because he's had to run for his life ever since he was so so young. Maybe it's because he's had to grow up too fast and too seriously in such a short amount of time.
His patience and sincerity aren't common in a child his age.
I'm suddenly reminded that he's nine years old.
He's nine years old and I'm trauma dumping—
I snap my jaw shut. Cutting my sentence in half. I had been telling a useless anecdote of my parents of this life meeting in university—
And the room is silent.
Too silent.
Or so it seems. It feels like my heartbeat is drowning out all other noise.
Fūta doesn't say anything. Doesn't ask me why I stopped speaking.
He just writes. Slower now, as if he's thinking of the shape of the letters. The characters…
I watch as it comes to a complete stop. As if he doesn't need the movement to think anymore.
And his stillness makes everything all the more real suddenly.
Because I haven't just told him the truth.
I've opened myself up to him. Told him something I haven't even told my family of this life.
Something I don't ever plan on telling Tsuna.
Something I don't ever plan on telling Shiro.
He opens his mouth, and I'm suddenly terrified—
Wait—
And then he asks something of me I never expected.
"Your family…" He says, and his voice is quiet. Tentative. Like he's scared of saying the words, of saying them too loudly, "Can you tell me about them?"
Oh…
Oh, I…
I never expected that kind of question before.
Aria… even Yuni, had never asked me about my past life before…
Aria has only ever asked about my death.
And…
I want to.
I want to talk about my family so much—
But—
It's only when he asks that I realize…
That I'm forgetting.
As I open my mouth to oblige him, I realize…
I have… forgotten so many things.
The shape of my mother's hands. The feeling of my siblings against me.
The warmth of them and the way they moved and the times and emotions we shared—
There is… There is so little I remember of them.
And that terrifies me.
"I…" I say, and my voice cracks on the word.
Oh…
Oh, I'm going to—
"Yeah," I say, inhaling deeply. I can feel my voice wobble with tears, "Yeah… I'll tell you anything, piccolo."
I'm relieved.
I'm thankful—
I exhale, and it's shaky like my heart is, "Thank you."
He blinks, like he's surprised and hadn't expected that. "Nēchan?"
Thank you for letting me remember them.
"From now on." I say, and the words are strong despite how much my voice trembles, "I'll never keep anything from you, Fūta."
When Hibari Kyōya sees them, he thinks he's daydreaming for a moment.
He's leaning against the window in his office, thinking about the upcoming student council meetings he will have to supervise because these herbivores can't be trusted to lead themselves the imbeciles he really has to do everything himself doesn't he—when he sees them.
That person.
The one from Kokuyō.
He straightens, suddenly alert.
He's quick to study their figure. What he can make of their face from this distance. Scrutinize the way they move. Memorize the shape of their hands.
And he's not mistaken.
He's sure of it.
They're there. Right there. No less than one jump and a somersault away from him. Walking with a child he couldn't care less to think about—right past the front gate of Namimori Middle School.
His Namimori Middle School.
The person from Kokuyō.
The one who had dared to touch him. The one who had the audacity to bandage his wounds and treat his body freely—
He's sliding the window open and leaping out before he can think twice of it.
When he lands in front of them, they're surprised. But not overly so.
He can't help but feel relief that they're not one hundred percent incapable.
That means what follows will be worthwhile.
This close to them Hibari can see the shape of their eyes and eyelashes. He can clearly see the resemblance of the fuzzy person he remembers hovering over him during that embarrassing time. Their bruises are lighter, not as dark as he remembers. If anything, this helps him identify their facial structure more. Memorize the face he is indebted to.
He needs to pay them back—but he doesn't know how because they aren't in need of help at the moment they're carrying a duffle bag and a child is next to them, their hand is going to their lower back for their weapon this much he knows and if he doesn't come up with something—
He suddenly thinks that this person's bruises make them resemble a leopard.
Or a jaguar.
"Name." He says. He's clenching and unclenching his hands. He wants to fight them. Wants to get rid of this feeling of indebtedness this person has given him.
He owes them and needs to pay them back but he doesn't know how and if he can't pay them back then he will fight them until this feeling goes away—
"Name?" They echo, and their hand is definitely on the handle of a weapon. The sight of it makes Hibari want to pull out his tonfa.
So he does.
"Who are you?" They say instead, and this time, they do unsheathe their weapon. And it's a tantō.
Hm. Good enough.
"Name." He says again, because the posture of this person is enough to let him know they fight well.
Forget paying them back, he wants to bite them—
Now.
"Miura Haru…" They say slowly, and the duffel bag falls to the ground.
A shiver of pleasure runs up Hibari's spine.
"Nēchan?" Hibari ignores the mouse next to them.
"Herbivore." He says, and he settles into a fighting stance. He's excited— "Hibari Kyōya. Now, I'll bite you to death."
They smile, but it isn't a happy one, Hibari can tell that much.
He doesn't bother to determine what type of smile it may be.
"Biting to death is a little extreme…" They say, but they get into a fighting stance as well, and Hibari Kyōya is eager he can't wait to—
"No!" The mouse from before jumps in front of this Miura person. Arms wide and blocking his way. "Don't hurt Nēchan!"
"Fūta get out of the wa—"
"Nēchan, you're only just getting better!"
Hibari looks closely at this mouse that dared jump in front of him.
He's small. With light brown hair and light brown eyes that gaze at him with clear intent.
He's tiny…
Small…
Like a mouse.
Or a bunny.
He's…
Cute.
Hibari Kyōya straightens. He slides his tonfa back up into the guards up his sleeves, staring at the Miura-herbivore in the eye so that they know he is letting them walk away freely.
He is allowing them another day to live.
"Consider this a greeting, Herbivore. Next time, I'll bite you to death."
He turns, and he knows by the sound of it that his jacket flaps dramatically behind him.
Letting that Herbivore live is almost enough of a payback. But he'll make sure to repay his debt back in full soon.
He doesn't admit it—but he thinks about cute and small things the rest of the day.
(He has a good day because of it)
Hibari Kyōya… the infamous leader of Namimori Middle School's Disciplinary Committee…
I had totally forgotten about him.
But after seeing him—fully healed and with his signature tonfa—threatening me?
I'm reminded of how powerful he can actually be.
"Please don't fight, Nēchan…" Fūta says, sounding almost scolding as we walk leisurely to the Sawada home. "You're still healing. I want you to get better."
I feel a little guilty at his admonishment. Who would have thought? Fūta scolding me about not taking care of myself...
But in all honesty, I was a little curious about how strong Hibari is... Mukuro I already know from first hand experience (even if he did have me bound and unable to fight back). But Hibari? Who's supposed to be the strongest member of Tsuna's family one day?
With everyone coming together… with everyone gathering and growing stronger…
It worried me that I wasn't strong enough to keep up to them, suddenly.
Miura Haru hadn't been "strong."
Not like I need to be.
I can't fall behind.
"Sorry," I say, meaning it, "He took me by surprise." Not so much when he had landed in front of me, but the fact that he had even appeared to me at all.
To me? Miura Haru?
I am nobody to him.
But seeing his face and recognizing it to be the one from Mukuro's basement… recognizing his features and what he wore and where he was coming from…
I can't believe I have forgotten about Hibari Kyōya.
If I had known—if I had remembered—that he was going to be in Mukuro's basement… If I had recognized him back then as Hibari Kyōya… would my intentions have—?
No. I still would've done what I could to heal him.
Leaving him there without trying something would have hurt me more.
"I'll miss you…" Fūta says, and his voice is quiet. The level of it sounds almost like a secret to me.
He's so endearing to me.
"I'll miss you too." I admit, holding his hand a little tighter.
This will be the first time we'll be away from each other since he first came to me. He's used to spending lots of time with me, especially with me being home because of my Independent Study Program at Midori Middle School. He even comes to some school events and club activities during the week with me. I don't know if the change in routine will trouble him or not. Nana and the others being with him is comforting but…
It's only been two and a half weeks since the incident with Mukuro concluded…
I can't take him with me. While Aria knows that I told him everything (as she seems to know everything), I know she wouldn't want him seeing Yuni.
Even more so, when my excuse for leaving him behind is me attending a school trip. One that wouldn't allow the attendance of non-students or non-faculty members.
I want to go. I want to go and see Yuni more than I would rather stay behind for him.
"I told Nanna that you take martial art lessons with Ito-sensei," I say, wanting to change the topic, "Three days a week. You'll start this Monday."
He nods, and there isn't anything exciting or sad about the action. Just… acceptance.
"I packed some studying materials in your backpack." I try again, "I left notes in there, but if you have any questions, Nanna should be able to help you, okay?"
"Un." He says, and he seems to notice something on my face. He smiles, and it's a soft smile, a reassuring one, "I'll be okay, Nēchan. You really want to go, right?"
Yes.
But I don't want to leave him behind either.
"Yes," I make myself admit. Slowly. Like the word hurts to come out.
"Then go, Nēchan." His words are soft. Too soft. A nine year old shouldn't be this empathetic to someone older than them. Someone who should be taking care of them. "I'll have lots of fun with Tsuna-nii and everyone! And I'll start learning how to protect you and myself, hehe."
I don't like that That isn't what I meant—
I kneel, and the sudden height difference makes him blink. "While I'm gone," I say lowly, and I ignore the way some passersby eye us. "I want you to play as much as you want. Eat as much as you want. Sleep as much as you want, okay? You…" are forgetting you're a child, "have done such a good job staying next to me. But please don't forget you're a kid." I swallow. "Don't worry about me or the others. I want you to worry about what you'll be playing later, and what snacks to sneak from Nana when she isn't looking, okay?"
He presses his lips together, and he wears an expression that I don't recognize.
Struggle? Maybe ache? I don't know.
"I love you." I say, and hug him. He wraps his little arms around me, and the way he digs his face into my neck tells me there's something there. Something he maybe wants to say, but doesn't have the courage to.
"Please come back," He whispers, and when he does, he tightens his hold on me.
"I'll be back," I promise, and in case he doesn't believe me add, "I'll be back for you even if I have to leave everything behind."
Almost like he's reading it out loud, maybe to reassure himself, or to remind me, he says, "Nēchan is number one in keeping promises…"
I hold him closer. "Nēchan is number one in keeping promises," I confirm.
"Nēchan is number one in keeping promises," he whispers.
I'm jet lagged and running on several cups of coffee, but when I see that small house on a hill…
When I see Yuni and Aria waiting for me on the threshold…
All of my fatigue fades away.
"Nina*!"
And Yuni is running at me. Little four year old Yuni without her illusion ribbon, running into my arms with her long hair trailing behind her.
The sunset makes it all the more stunning to me.
It's so beautiful.
They are so beautiful.
All oranges and reds that resemble the tattoo on Aria's cheek.
The color of her flame…
I'm almost too late in opening my arms for her.
But I catch her. And it doesn't hurt when she slams against me.
It doesn't hurt when she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist and yells in my ear in happiness.
I'm holding her and spinning and clutching her so so close to me and—
I could hold her forever.
Yuni.
My tiny little lily.
My iris.
I'm home.
I'm home…
"Welcome home, Nina!" Yuni laughs.
And everything everything has me so happy—
I'm nearly in tears when I say, "I'm home."
"How are you feeling, really?" Aria asks. Her voice is gentle, and with the backdrop of a crackling flame in the fireplace, could be used to put anyone to sleep.
I look at her. At this beautiful, powerful woman—reclining on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand.
She looks like every renaissance painting come to life. Like a woman from an unearthly plane that decided to grace humans with her presence. Like she can fade away at any moment. She looks beautiful and leisurely, and it's easy to forget she's a mafia boss—but not that she has probably killed hundreds of men before.
Yuni is asleep. And I don't know if it was the best or worst thing for her to ask me such a serious question without her here.
I take care of Yuni a total of eleven months out of the year. I have raised her from infancy into early childhood. In a way, she is as close to a daughter to me.
But ultimately, it is Aria who calls the shots.
"Does Yuni know what happened?" I ask, lowering my eyes. Aria's gaze can be penetrating when she doesn't mean to be, it makes it difficult to look her in the eye for too long. I redirect my attention to the mug of tea in my hand. I swirl it, and watch the water rise towards the edges.
"Yes," She says slowly, and then, "but also no."
I raise my eyes to meet her's. I'm curious to see what her expression is, but it seems that my look is enough of a question for her.
"My powers are fading." She says, and I'm surprised for a moment. I feel every muscle in my body tense.
Because this is the first time she's ever directly talked of her "powers" to me. She had always mentioned them or been vague of their effects and their direct usage throughout the years we've known each other. But… "It's not an immediate thing. Or sudden," She corrects herself, as if she's talking through her thought process as she speaks. "I'm not able to see into the future as often anymore. And Yuni… has been slowly starting to."
I'm trying to understand what she means.
Then… Yuni will slowly be able to start seeing into the future now?
But she had always had a sense of these things. It had always seemed as if she knew things the way Aria had…
Are Aria and I thinking the same thing?
"Do you mean…" I say, trying to piece everything together, "that she'll be able to consciously see into the future now?"
I don't remember much of the plot now. Too many years had gone by before I had recognized the world I now live in. And by then, what had been left behind were big names and vague concepts I repeat to myself until I have them memorized.
What had kept me going this far, was a sense of familiarity.
Sometimes, I remembered little things. But when it came to big things… only feelings remained. Impressions of them.
So when it comes to Aria's power to see the future… The Sky Arcobaleno ability to look into the future…
I don't know how it works. I can only guess at its intentions and workings.
Aria doesn't answer my question immediately. And I'm reminded of how it's always like this with us. Lots of silence in between. Lots of unspoken words that we can pick up without saying out loud.
For Aria, it's because she can always look into my intentions.
For me… intuition would be too strong of a word for it maybe.
"Yes." She finally says, shifting her hand to cradle her head against the couch arm rest.
We're sitting across from each other, on two separate couches with a coffee table in between. The safehouse Aria chose is small, almost a cottage. It overlooks the acres of grapevines that will eventually mature to wine. Wine that Aria is currently consuming.
It's out of the way enough to not be disturbed, but also not so secluded to have the villagers question its inhabitants or caretakers.
Aria knows what she's doing. I imagine her other safehouses to be similar, if not by appearance—by safety for sure.
"Will you be teaching her?" I don't even know if it's a skill to be taught. But Yuni can't know how to use it without some guidance right?
Aria doesn't say anything. Her silence is enough of an affirmation for me. "It'll be a slow thing," She says, sinking further into the pillows against her side. The more she lounges, the more she looks like a painting. Like a depiction of an artist who yearns for her in every drawn line, "My powers fading and transferring to Yuni."
"What… are you implying…?" I say slowly, because she's implying something there.
There's something she isn't telling me—
—her death?
She had already implied that her powers were weakening. Whether they were fading or being transferred to Yuni she had just clarified but—
There was something she wasn't saying.
"I have four years at most."
What.
"What." I want to shout it. Only shock keeps my voice low. Makes it hard and unyielding— "What are you saying, why does it sound like—?"
I choke. I can't even say the words.
Aria is the first person to have found me and guided me—
She's the first person to know I was—
She looks at me. And the look on her face says everything.
My heart drops— "Aria…"
I don't know what to say.
Don't? Fight it? There must be another way? It would be insensitive of me to say such a thing. She knows she's dying. She knows that nothing can stop it.
What can I do then?
She smiles, and there's no sadness or remorse there. Only resignation. It makes me want to cry— "The Sky Arcobalenos have a short life span." She says by way of explanation.
"So what?" I say, and I'm frustrated at her compliance. "Does that mean that you'll die young all because of this curse—?"
"Yes." She says, and her voice is so sudden and piercing it makes me stop.
"Yes," She says again, and this time, her voice is softer. "That's exactly it, Haru…
"And when the time comes," She looks at me, draped along the couch like she might sink into it any moment. Like this one moment might be her final one. She looks tired— "Please take care of Yuni."
I'm mad suddenly. Bitter.
At her resignation. At her easy acceptance.
"That's why you chose me right?" I can't help but scoff. "You knew I'd do a good job, didn't you?"
I regret my words almost immediately. They had stung when I said them. I can't imagine what they must have done to Aria.
But her face is understanding, and that look makes me mad immediately—
"I chose you because you needed Yuni…" she says, like it's a practiced line. "just as much as she needed you."
She has said as much before. But this time, her face is sincere as she says—
"You needed a reason to live, didn't you?"
Fuck.
Fuck.
My hands are shaking—
It hurts to hear the truth from her.
I hadn't been living when I had received my memories. Fear had been my motivator back then.
Now…
I don't know what to say to her.
She's right.
And I hate that she is.
"I'm glad you took in that boy." Aria says, and I'm glad for the change of subject. It's hard to hear over the pounding in my ears.
"Fūta?" I say, even though I know she means him. My voice is shaky, but I'm already calming down, "He's a good kid."
"Yes," She says, and she places her wine glass on the coffee table coaster. The way she stretches to reach looks like a snapshot to me. Everything about her is so elegant— "Things would not have ended well for him if you hadn't."
A shiver runs down my spine.
What. What had she seen?
I can't imagine what Aria must have seen of his future for her to say that.
Wait.
"When you look into the future…" I say, and it feels almost dangerous to ask this, "What do you see?"
There are parallel worlds. That much I have been able to confirm for myself.
But if Aria or Yuni look into the future, do they see those multitudes at once or—?
"It's late." Aria pushes herself off the couch. "I'm going to head to bed. You must be very jet lagged," I don't follow her with my eyes as she walks away, "Please get some rest soon, Haru. Good night."
"Good night," I mutter, voice almost inaudible.
She didn't answer me.
Then again, if she had, I don't know what I would have expected to hear.
.
Special: We Forget How Soft We Are On the Inside
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(for reaching 300+ reviews)
Shiro is on the second floor living room couch when I get home. He's reading a book I can't see the title of, but when he hears me approach he looks up from its pages.
"Haru-chan," He says, and smiles.
And I don't know if it's because I missed him so much, or because he looked at me and looked so happy to see me that I—
"Shiro," I say, rushing towards him. He blinks in surprise and looks like he's about to stand. But I get there faster and toss my backpack aside. I don't bother making note of where it lands, I'm too busy falling to my knees and throwing myself on Shiro's lap.
Here, against the warmth of his legs, I feel small again. I feel young and like the child I was and am and have been all of these years.
Have I grown at all?
Have I matured even a bit?
I'm tired.
I'm so tired…
I turn my head a little to bury it between my left arm and Shiro's lap. I groan a little bit, my torso deflating with a sigh I didn't even realize I was holding in.
At the sound of it, Shiro places a hand on my back. It's large and comforting against my shoulder blades.
I want him to pet my hair. I want him to hug me and hold me and remind me that everything will be alright. That everything will work itself out.
But if I ask for it out loud—
Shiro's left hand is in my hair. He's slow and gentle about it, running his fingers through the short strands, fingertips grazing my scalp with a practiced pressure that makes every muscle in my body relax.
I feel a warmth rumble in my throat at the feeling.
"Our Haru-chan must be very tired," Shiro says. And while the words are lightly teasing, his tone of voice isn't.
I turn my head a little more, so that my left eye can peek at him from under my arm.
He's looking at me, a small smile on his face, an affectionate expression on his face.
I close my eye, overwhelmed at how much I care for this friend who has never left me. Never abandoned me. Who has stayed with me throughout the years my entire world seemed to run and move and ever change without a break for me to catch my breath.
I missed you.
I missed you so much—
"I missed you," I say, truthfully. Seeing him here was so relieving and soothing that I had wanted to touch him, to be reminded that I was really here in this space and time that had been a figment of the imagination all those years ago…
Thank you for being here, Shiro…
He chuckles, and I feel his right hand lift from my back to my face. He runs his thumb along my temple before resting his hand on my shoulder this time. "I'm glad I was here then…"
His fingers graze my neck, and I open my eye again when they do. He's still smiling softly, still running his left hand through my hair, and because I can't stand looking at him in the eye for too long when he looks at me like that I let myself fall into a doze.
A space of mind where everything comes to a standstill. Where everything fades into background noise and nothing but Shiro and I exist in this space in time.
I want to stay here longer.
I want to stay here until I forget everything else.
I don't want to leave.
But I have to.
So with a grunt that makes my entire body feel three times as heavy as it really is, I sit up. Shiro's hands fall into his lap, and without the heat of him against me, I'm cold.
I'll be greedy if I want more.
"Thank you, Shiro. I love you."
He grins, and with the afternoon light trickling in from the balcony, he looks like every blooming spring flower ever.
"I love you, Haru-chan."
Glossary
engawa — edging strip of non-tatami-matted flooring in Japanese architecture, usually wood or bamboo; these strips might run around rooms or encircle buildings, similar to porches sunrooms
"Viva la Vida, Watermelons" by Frida Kahlo — frida kahlo's last painting
ojama shimasu — "sorry for disturbing," a cultural procedure when entering someone's home
omiyage — an obligatory gift or souvenir, usually food, brought for a host
Nina — fem. short form of "Madrina" meaning, "godmother"
Thanks to:
xenocanaan (the way you're already thinking ahead, haha, everything shall be revealed in the future arc~ thank you so much for reading, it's so good to see you in the reviews!), Vivi Neferatari (thank you! i wanted to show a kind character that wasn't stereotypically kind like we see in a lot of anime and manga! ones who forgive everything and are basically saints, lmao. i couldn't think of a good special with haru and reborn, so i hope this one is good enough :)) ), NightlyRowenTree (now that you mention it, they kind of are lmao, although shiro doesn't give a shit about futa, sob. i bet if there were a chapter of a scene with the three of them in it, shiro would be kind of... mean about it? thank you so much for reading!), dycy (affection isn't limited to romantic relationships; i wanted to show that two people can be friends and express different levels of affection without it being romantic :)) ), Lilyannenora (thank you so much! reviews make me happy hehe, thank you so much for reading!), Stofyn (thank you! i don't remember where the inspo came from—i think a friend who i don't talk to anymore wanted to self-insert as kyoko and so i ended up with haru lol? haru and mukuro's relationship is complicated, i didn't know it was gonna be this complicated until i started writing it lmao. i'm so glad you love shiro! i put so much work into him, haha. also! the way i'm planning an omake with that exact scenario in the next chapter~ all will be revealed~), Guest (1) (thank you so much! i try, haha), amgs (thank you so much for proofreading love! one of the things i feel that isn't explored lots in the manga or anime is literally how traumatizing these types of lives can be? like, we have kids in the literal mafia and they're NOT experiencing any trauma? unrealistic hmph, clearly~ i have to make them suffer right? i hope the hibari haru interaction in this chapter was worth it lmao), ngocthyv (2021 was a good year for writing lol, i hadn't been working then so i was just writing TAT i miss it a little actually, sob. i hope the first hibari haru interaction was worth it lol? it was brief and i kind of like it, haha. haru is actually a lightning flame user, i'll be clarifying this in future chapters, lol. i have all of haru's box weapons and animals all thought out already! got to say, that one of them is pretty guessable tho. i'm actually really excited to write the scene where haru and mukuro meet again, although it'll be in the mindspace haha. i LOVE long reviews, yours made me smile! thank you so much for reading! i hope you stick around!), quiesteroo (did his reaction live up to your expectation lol?), Mori (yes! i just started working lol, thank you so much for asking! thank you for loving shiro, i put a lot of work into him, lmao. the way there are so many characters in KHR that can be fleshed out and be power-up-ed, like, it makes me kind of sad that amano introduced futa and bianchi and didn't really do anything with them? the POTENTIAL for them! i'm so glad you noticed the nurse! he's actually a clue!), Valen Goncalvez (thank you so much for reading!), Saera Aimie (thank you so much for reading!), Seere Klein (hello again! i've missed you! mukuro really likes to play with our feelings huh~ ah, i kind of did that on purpose? usually when men or boys in anime or manga are in these type of situations no one bats an eye at their clothes being almost completely ripped or gone and leaving them almost naked? yet when they do it to the girls they get overly sexualized. i wanted to show that such nudity is natural to all genders and doesn't have to be sexualized in order to be productive to plot. here, it served a purpose—bandaging wounds and creating types of braces. i hope this chapter answered some of your questions, haha. i am neither confirming nor denying your hypothesis hehe. thank you so much for reading, it's so good to see you again!), Guest (2) (thank you so much for reading!)
oh~kay~ writing in different pov's is kind of exhausting lmao.
three guesses what one of haru's love languages is (cough cough, one of them is physical touch).
next time on! Thanatos Ascending—haru and yuni time~
gods, the way i was like, the interlude won't be that long~ and then, i end up writing nearly 10k of just the gang visiting haru T~T
hoping that! next chapter is the last interlude! cross your fingers y'all!
also, no mukuro-dream in this chapter, i couldn't find a good place to put it, but it definitely happened~ (cough, yes they mean something, cough)
(some readers were really curious about the first meeting between hibari and haru, i hope it didn't disappoint lmao)
please review!
—prince