A/N: I UPDATED LAST WEEK'S CHAPTER TO HAVE A BIT MORE INFORMATION; I recommend you at least reread the part with Amin's POV so you can catch it!
Also, please keep in mind that Hana lied to Amin about her name. 'Tokki' and 'Hana' are the same person.
Someone grabs Hana in the middle of the night. Just like that, the glowing warmth of her mother and father flicker and disappear like blown-out candles.
She lashes out with a fist out of pure instinct, aiming at a face that she can't quite see clearly in the darkness- a girl? Yes, it's a girl. A human girl, that seizes her arms with an iron-like grip. Her hands remain firmly wrapped around Hana's wrists, pinning her to the ground, even as she squirms in a futile effort to free herself.
A human girl- the only human girl here was supposed to Hana; what has happened to Amin? Her skin burns where the stranger touches her, she opens her mouth to yell for Amin to run-
"The fuck are you doing?" hisses the voice in her ear. Hana blinks rapidly. The girl pulls away, letting go of her arms. As soon as she's free, Hana springs backwards, clutching at the- the soft quilt around her?
She blinks again, eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness of the room.
Yes, a quilt. Hana is sitting on top of a mattress with a blanket over her. It's not the one that Genji had left her, either- the stitches piecing together the squares of fabric that make up the quilt signifies that it's handmade. Seeing as how she's not sitting on the living room couch anymore, Amin must've carried her to a bedroom. She'd be grateful if she weren't so confused.
Hana wrenches her gaze away from it to squint up at the unabashed shadowy mass leaning over her, on both hands and knees.
She's- she's pretty, but in an intimidating way. She's lithe and built like a lightweight boxer. Dark eyes and brows sharp and sculpted, lifting at the corners in points. Tan skin, her bare arms rippling with the subtle bulge of muscles. Her messy black hair looks like someone took a pair of scissors and lopped off everything that grew below her chin. Even when she's all crouched over Hana, Hana can tell the girl is at least three inches taller.
Her mouth catches up to her brain, and Hana finally spits, "Who the hell are you?"
The girl stares at Hana, the crease between her brows deepening. "Tara. Amin didn't tell you about me?" Her voice is low and sharp with aggression.
Amin. A familiar face. Was this girl a friend of hers? Hana scoots a little further back, heartbeat still racing. "I- I don't know anything about you. Get out of my face, please."
Tara sits back on her heels with a scowl. The moonlight from the apartment window illuminates her face, and she looks even more intimidating in the brightness, if that was possible- her high cheekbones create stark shadows down the sides of her face, bangs overshadowing most of her eyes. Hana notices her sheer white tank top and grey pajama bottoms for the first time.
Tara crosses her arms, voice low and surly. "Amin told me about you, but didn't tell you about me? What the fuck."
Watch your damn language. Hana can't imagine this coarse, all-up-in-your-face girl anywhere around the gentle Omnic. "Again, who the hell are you?"
She glares. "I already told you. I'm Tara. Tara Lee."
Hana recalls Amin saying something about picking up a certain Tara from school. Tara Lee… Amin was a Lee too, right? But Lee's a common enough last name in Korea for Hana to ask, "You and Amin are related?"
"Is this a fuckin' interrogation or something?" Tara slouches back on her hands, tilts her head as she inspects Hana.
Everything about Tara fulfills every single school delinquent stereotype that Hana knows, from her casual but confident body language to how her sentences are peppered with swear words. Hana narrows her eyes, thumbs her bracelet. She can't tell if it's all a tough act or not.
Tara narrows her eyes right back. "I'm Amin's daughter."
So they were related. Tara was most likely adopted by Amin, because… well, Hana doesn't fully understand the legal component of an Omnic having children, but she's sure that it's possible in a 'progressive' country like Korea (and she almost laughs at the thought, because her mother and the Ssang Kal are anything but progressive.)
Hana gathers herself into a more dignified sitting position, composes her thoughts. She certainly doesn't want to get friendly with this blatantly rude girl, but… If I'm going to stay here for a couple more days, then I guess it doesn't hurt to get to know her? I am intruding, after all.
She tries to come up with an appropriate response. Finally, she settles on "Ah, I see."
An awkward silence hovers in the air as Tara studies her. Hana's not sure if she should be saying something or not. The tips of her ears burn; she hates this silence, and she wonders if she hadn't dropped out of school she'd be more prepared to take on these challenging sort of social encounters.
Hostile words shatter the quiet. "You're not judging us or nothing?"
Of all the strange, intrusive things Tara has done in the five minutes that Hana has been awake, this is the one that threw her off the most. Hana doesn't mean to sound incredulous, but she does. "Judging you- both of you for what?"
"I've got an Omnic mom. What do you think?"
Hana had never really understood the terrible things people did to Omnics. Granted, she hadn't known any Omnics in the first place, but by her reasoning they couldn't possibly be any worse than the humans she knew.
"I don't have any problems with Omnics," she says, feeling oddly defensive. "And besides, Amin is nice. I don't care if she's your mom or whatever."
In fact, I'm feeling a bit jealous.
Tara's shoulders droop a millimeter, and she sounds more worried than threatening now. "I'll have you know that I'm a fourth degree black belt in taekwondo. If you try to pull anything funny here-"
"I won't, I won't," says Hana hastily, though- though maybe she already has, just by being here. God knows if Talon has already detected her whereabouts. The thought puts her more on edge than anything, and the words slip from her mouth faster now.
"I didn't ask Amin to take me in, and while I'm grateful that she has, I… it wasn't my intention to. Uh. Intrude on anything," she finishes lamely.
Tara arches an eyebrow. Instead of directly responding, she asks, "Where the hell did you crawl from anyways?"
Hana is tired to the extreme, and she really doesn't want to be having this discussion right now. It's not a matter of confidentiality- as long as she excludes the bits about Overwatch, she's fairly certain that she can speak to Tara and Amin about whatever she wishes.
On the other hand, she simply does not care to spill her guts to some stranger who happens to be her host.
So she states a vague "I ran away from home," which is at least part of a whole truth, ignoring the way Tara's eyebrow creeps further up her face in suspicion.
"Amin said that when she found you, you looked like shit," she says bluntly. "Anything to say about that?"
Hana wants to lie down and block the girl out. Echoing Tara's previous sentiment- what was this, an interrogation? She didn't ask for Amin to take her in; Amin had insisted. Her being at the house wasn't her fault- and besides, it wasn't like she was hurting anyone by just staying there.
Was it only natural that Tara was concerned about sharing a roof with a suspicious stranger? Sure.
But that doesn't make Hana any calmer. Heat creeps up the back of her neck as hunger bites at her stomach, weariness drags down her bones, and a fierce fire of anger blazes away in her head.
"I didn't do anything wrong. Leave me alone," she snaps, which was also the truth. She promptly lies back on the mattress and wraps herself in blankets, turning her back to the scowling Tara.
An angry girl, she can deal with. Genji's absence and maybe-perhaps-hopefully-not-death, though he is sorely missed, she can deal with.
Worries about the future, about Talon, about death, about her parents and the Ssang Kal, what she's going to do, going out to Jangsoo Station alone, about what her existence in this household can (and probably will) eventually do to its family- even that, she can deal with.
All three at once? The pain in her head is nothing compared to the void in her heart.
Hana closes her eyes, reaches at comforting memories to grasp on to. Buying Genji a bright green scarf. Him wrapping the scarf around his head like a cowl and pretending to be a ninja. Crouching low and scuttling sideways like a crab towards random passersby, spooking them with a sudden shout of "SAKE!" She'd asked him what the word meant, and he'd explained it was just a Japanese alcohol. That day had been the first time she'd cried from laughter.
That warmth. Yes, all she wanted was to feel that warmth.
Hana can't quite remember what she'd been dreaming about before Tara Lee woke her up, but she remembers that same all-encompassing warmth and the music of laughter. She holds on to that familiar feeling, curls up in her blanket. Falls asleep.
And she dreams of Genji.
The air around the pier smells of salt. Hana peers up at the vast blue dome of the sky, where a sun hangs low behind a thin veil of sheer, white clouds. The hoarse Korean of the fishermen at the docks rings like a distant dream.
Genji stands stock-still at the end of the pier, staring off into the endless ocean, no doubt his thoughts waxing philosophical. Hana ventures onto the pier, careful not to make a sound on the creaking wood- and suddenly she's seized with this childish desire to push Genji right off the edge. It's irrational and not the kind of thing I would do at all.
Then again, Hana hasn't been herself lately. With Genji around, she feels that it's okay to be a child. After all, she has an adult to look after her. So she goes ahead and shoves the cyborg forward with a giggling "Boo!"
He lets out an undignified squawk as he tumbles from the platform; Hana grins to herself as water splashes up to her feet. She peeks over the edge. "How you feeling down there?"
No response. There's nothing but frothy sea foam floating atop the bubbling indigo water.
"Genji?" she asks tentatively. Again, no response.
A thought strikes her as heavy and painful as a bullet. She could've pushed him to a terrible death by drowning, weighed down by his armor… or maybe the water hadn't reacted well to his more electronic bits. She could've- could've killed Genji?
Hana lowers herself onto the wood, getting as close to the water as she can. Doesn't matter- she still can't see anything in the dark depths of the sea. "This isn't funny."
No response. She screams, "GENJI!"
Two white, robotic limbs launch from the water and latches around her arms, pulling her straight into the icy water. She opens her mouth to scream again and it's promptly filled with salty seawater.
Hana gags and coughs as her head breaks the surface, frantically paddling to keep herself up. Bobbing serenely next to her is Genji, green visor flickering.
"Payback," he intones, and Hana can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.
"Michin-nom," Hana says, trying to sound furious, but this stupid smile keeps breaking out over her dripping wet face. She doesn't say that she was worried. That she thought he was drowning. No doubt he'd call her paranoid. She swipes at Genji and only succeeds in splashing him with water.
He chuckles and clambers back onto the pier with relative ease. Hana swims over and tries to get up, but her shivering arms can't seem to hoist her waterlogged body up onto the planks.
Genji kneels and extends an arm, stifling a chuckle as Hana shoots him a glare. "Here. Take my hand."
She reaches for it. But Genji is no longer there.
Off-balance and with nothing to grab on to, Hana falls back, back into the water-but the water is gone, too, and she falls flat on her back into a snowbank.
The ground is wet, slippery, and freezing. She scrambles to her feet- turns around- but nobody is there.
Nobody but a lone girl.
It's eerie how brightly she is smiling amongst the flurry of snow. Her face is perfectly sculpted, dashed with makeup, so completely manufactured- she doesn't seem quite real. Hana shudders.
"Where's Genji?"
The girl shrugs. The flowing locks of dark hair cascading down her shoulders ripple with the small movement. She's so gorgeous that she glows, even amongst the blindingly white particles of snow.
Her voice is high and curls on the R's. "Where do you think he is?"
"Dead," says Hana without thinking. The girl claps her hands and laughs. It's a sound of pure mirth.
"So you already know. Then why do you ask?"
Hana takes a step forward. Her bare feet crunch in the snow. "Who killed him?" she asks, voice low.
The girl is still smiling. Perfectly red lips, curled up into a perfectly fake smile.
"You already know the answer to that."
Amin is an idiot, Tokki is a stranger, and Tara is more concerned than she'd like to admit.
She was going to leave the girl alone… she really, truly was. But the girl was stirring something awful in her sleep, and that pricked Tara's conscience enough to shake her awake.
As a reward, Tokki freaked out and tried to attack her- which, in Tara's mind, justified pinning down the younger girl to her mattress. Tara's mattress, actually. In the space of one day and a night, Amin's little guest had already borrowed an entire set of clothes, a room, two blankets, a pillow, and a mattress from Tara.
She reckons all of that is reason enough to dislike Tokki. For some reason, she still doesn't.
Tokki is surly and quiet and sullen enough to remind her of herself, back before Amin took her in. Not that Tara isn't surly and sullen now- and that doesn't really help matters much.
So when morning comes, instead of rudely shaking the exhausted girl awake, Tara lets her sleep in. It's a Saturday morning, after all, and Amin has already left for work. Leaving the two of them behind. At least if Tokki's asleep Tara won't have to interact much with her. She'd like to minimize her awkward alone time with Tokki as much as possible, thank you very much.
Tara pours herself a bowl of Luci-Oh's, sits at the kitchen counter with an exasperated sigh. With the arrival of yet another poor stray that Amin picked off the streets went all of Tara's hopes at having a peaceful weekend. I guess I'm gonna lock myself in my room and play StarCraft all day.
The door to Tara's room creaks open. Tara tries not to look disappointed when Tokki steps cautiously over the threshold, hair slightly disheveled from tumultuous sleep. She's already awake?
"Good morning," says Tara as politely as she possibly can. That is to say, a growl.
Tokki blinks. Two seconds of silence pass. Two seconds too long for something as simple as a reply of Good morning.
"Ah… good morning," Tokki says finally, rubbing at her eyes. She just stands there, hovering uncertainly halfway between the door and the kitchen counter.
Tara wants to be cruel and just ignore her, but Amin would never forgive her if she did. So she pats the high stool next to her and says, a little softer but just as crudely, "Wotcha standin' there for? Grab yourself a bowl of cereal."
Tokki does as she says. Pours another bowl of Luci-Oh's. Blinks rapidly, eyes wide, at her surroundings. Tara notices now, in the brightness of the room, how unnaturally pale the girl is. Which is strange, because that was a trait you usually saw in people who spent too much time indoors, and not on someone who was obviously homeless.
"Where's Amin?" Tokki's voice is steady, but high-pitched and childlike. It sounds vaguely familiar, but Tara can't really place where she's heard it before. She swallows back her distaste and spoons some of her cereal.
"She's at work. Also, it's a Saturday, so I'm not going to school. Meaning it's just us two until four o' clock," she says dryly. Tokki digests this information with a frown.
"What does Amin do for a living?"
Stop talking about her. Stop trying to get to know her, Tara wants to yell.
Instead, she spends a long moment chewing her cereal, before swallowing and saying, "She's an interior designer. And she's really good at what she does." Tara can't keep a little bit of pride from seeping into her voice.
Tokki stares thoughtfully down at her bowl, expression entirely indecipherable. It's unnerving and Tara wants to shout Snap out of it. By no means is she in expert when it came to people or social politics, but even she can tell that something is very, very off about this girl.
"She was covered in blood," says Amin softly.
Of course Tara is curious about the girl. She knows that curiosity is what got Amin to take the girl in, to a certain degree. But if last night was anything to go off of, Tokki wasn't all that eager to talk things out.
Tokki begins to eat her cereal. Tara takes this as a sign that the girl doesn't want to talk anymore, (thank fucking God), so she wolfs down the rest of her own cereal. Grabs her holoboard off the counter. Sinks into the living room couch and pops open Starcraft.
She doesn't bother to plug in a headset, so the sounds from the game echo loudly through the room, as comforting as one of Amin's hummed lullabies. She checks through her message boards, and sees that it's a mess, as per usual- ever since world-famous Starcraft connoisseur DVA's disappearance, Tara's been sent an average of about six conspiracy theories a day.
:JFB715: [It's entirely possible that DVA is actually a computer program that just gets voiced over by a VA during streams]
reply++++-CYANQUARTZ: what, she got shut down or something?
reply++++-TERRAN: She never did a fa ce cam be4 maybe thats why…
:SILENCINGSHADOW: [Well, I wouldn't be surprised if dva wasn't human]
reply++++-ERRORENTITY140: I think you're all overthinking it.
She scrolls through the content with only mild interest- drug overdose, kidnapped by Omnics, or maybe DVA was an Omnic- all stuff she's heard before. Personally, she's certain that DVA just broke her computer or something. Whatever or whoever she was. None of this ridiculous, overly dramatic stuff.
Honestly, Tara couldn't care less what had happened to the mysterious gamer, or whether or not they're a computer construct. She just wants her to start streaming again.
It wasn't even to learn how to play better- it was to just sit and stare and wonder how it was possible for someone to be so fucking good at a game. Tara's not even sure that someone could learn from one of DVA's matches- she was just so on another level that by the time someone caught up to one of her moves, the game was over. Followed by a voice piping over the speakers, all giggly and innocent, "Is this easy mode?"
Tara blinks in surprise as Tokki sits down next to her, holding her bowl of Luci-Oh's. The couch sinks slightly underneath the added weight.
The girl leans over Tara's holoboard. "You play StarCraft?" Tokki asks softly.
Well, she'll be damned. So the homeless, strange little girl knew what StarCraft was. Tara's fingers scuttle over the virtual keyboard like a crab, shooting back replies to each message prompt.
"Yep. Not so much anymore, though. Don't have all that much free time."
Tokki squints at the holoboard, having taken sudden interest in the messages. "DVA… is missing," she reads, confused. And then, hastily, "Who is-?"
God. Tara had forgotten just how isolated this girl must've been when growing up. "Who is DVA? Only one of the best gamers ever. She went missing a couple days ago, and of course the Internet didn't handle it very well." Tara waves at the screen. "Theories started cropping up. If you're in the StarCraft community, there's no way to avoid them."
She swivels her head to look at Tokki, who's still staring at the holoboard with a strange intensity. "Why… you play?"
If Tara didn't know better, she could've sworn a ghost of a smile had flickered across Tokki's pale face, framed by locks of dark brown hair.
"Not really," Tokki says simply. "Are you good at it?"
Tara's skills in StarCraft are one of the few things she's proud about, next to her medals in taekwondo. So she kicks back and smirks as she logs into the game. This girl was about to be seriously impressed.
"You'll see."
Reply to Machina per Dei:
I am currently trying this style of writing entirely for practice. I may switch back to third person sometime in the future once I feel my first person is adequate ^^
Translation Notes:
Michin-nom: Crazy bastard
Cultural note: In Korea, beds are usually mattresses laid out on the floor without bedsprings or a bedframe, very similar to the Japanese futon. As the vast majority of the population-dense cities of Korea live in apartment buildings that do not have an abundance of bedrooms, women tend to sleep in one room together and men in another (with the exception of straight couples, who will obviously sleep in the same room.) Which is why it is not unusual for Tara and Hana to be sharing the same room.
