Chapter 21: Those Flowers Will Never Bloom
"Natsusa! Natsusa!"
The girl turned around. She was probably no older than six or seven. Her inquiring brown eyes ran across the boy, who was slightly taller and plumper than she was. He was, in comparison the little fair maiden before him, rugged and messy. In the distance, she could see Takeshi's mother waving. She waved back before turning towards the boy again.
"Takeshi-chan," she said, acknowledging his presence.
Takeshi panted in response. Soon, another set of footsteps were heard running up to the pair.
"Oi, idiot! Don't leave me behind like that again."
"Ah, Haya-chan! You're supposed to be fast (1), aren't you?" Takeshi retorted.
"Stop it!" Hayato said, pressing his small fist into Takeshi's cheek, "we're going to be late for school! And on the first week too."
Hayato proceeded to pick up Natsusa's and Takeshi's hands, dragging them along in the general direction of their school.
Natsusa, the only female of the three, was a rather short and rather emaciated. Despite looking pitiable most of the time, she had a sweet-tempered disposition and carried a broad smile on her face. She was not the brightest kid around town, but she had that bright smile to make up for it. The Sawadas had moved into Kubora City (2) just two years back, although her father rarely, if not ever, showed his face at home. Natsusa's first friends in the new, unfamiliar environment were Hayato and Takeshi, and it was not long before they hit off. She did not mind the taunts of, "you're gonna get cooties!" get to her, although sometimes it annoyed her that her female peers seemed to be adamant about keeping their precious gender divide.
Takeshi was the brawn of the group, always getting into small scuffles and competitions. He was friendly, always giving out toothy grins and warm hugs to many of his classmates. He was raised in a wholesome family, his father manning a humble sushi restaurant, one of the last few of its kind.
Lastly, Hayato was the group's brain, being able to solve many complex mathematical calculations (for his age, at least) and memorise many scientific concepts of the time. It was not only the book smarts that both Takeshi and Natsusa appreciated him for, but he had a fair amount of street smarts and common sense that got the trio out of sticky situation many times. Hayato came from a fairly affluent family, as Natsusa and Takeshi could observe from play-dates at his house. There was one thing that puzzled them though – he always never talked about his father, and they never saw his mother much either.
As the trio had come from reasonably well-to-do families, as well as one of the better off cities in Japan, they were shielded by the plague of misery and sadness that came with the progression of society – an irony that they would never have known of, given the undisturbed, orderly lives they were allowed to live; they were very much hidden away from the throes of society: a coddled bunch.
They idled away the time of their childhoods with virtual reality games; however, when the weather permitted, they often went out to the newly constructed park – the only of its kind in Kubora City. While their peers had so eagerly engaged themselves in the plethora of technology that catered to even the littlest toddler, Natsusa found exhilaration in spending time with what little nature she had access to.
"Ah, this poor flower!" Natsusa exclaimed, bending down to tend to a poor, nearly withered flower. It was not the prettiest flower one could ever find, being thin and frail and having small, pale petals – it was ordinary. Natsusa loved these sorts of weeds the most as she felt they bore the most resemblance to her – scrawny, unnoticeable and shoved aside.
It was a crowded day at the park, so the trio were put on close watch by Yamamoto's mother, who to Natsusa's mother's delight, regularly offered to babysit the young playmates.
"Wow, Natsu-chan. That's a very pretty flower you have there," Mrs Yamamoto bent down next to her, looking at her with the kindest eyes Natsusa ever remembered – of course, second to her own mother's. One would never guess a boy as cheeky and playful as Takeshi would be Mrs Yamamoto's son – she treated everything with endearment and gentleness, and her long, brown hair was often tied up into a large, neat bun in the summertime. Takeshi, on the other hand, would try his best to be covered in bruises and cuts, and his hair was messed up almost constantly.
"How is it? It's boring and plain and no one notices something like that, ever. It's frail and can't even live on its own," Natsusa said, cupping the flower in her hand.
"Silly girl," Mrs Yamamoto said, placing her hand upon the small girl's head, "even the rose wilts, after having spent its lifetime being beautiful and fragrant. It will mourn the loss of its elegance, even more so than this flower ever will ever weep its own demise."
"What do you mean?" the girl peered up at the woman.
Mrs Yamamoto stood back up, shaking her head.
"Dear, little Natsu-chan. You'll understand when you're not so little anymore. The most beautiful have the most pain. The greater mankind tries to climb, the harder he will fall."
Natsusa looked back down at the flower, not comprehending what Mrs Yamamoto had just imparted unto her.
"Well then, Miss Flower. May I sing you a final song?"
Mrs Yamamoto chuckled at the girl, who began singing, albeit out of tune. The screams and shouts of Takeshi could be heard from a distance, impeding into the tender lullaby that Natsusa hummed. But then, the little girl was in her little world, away from all that was violent and sad.
"Ah, I see. That's a wonderful childhood friend you have there, don't you?" Tsuna said, smiling. However, something of Yamamoto's behaviour did puzzle her – in spite of recalling the happier memories of his childhood, he seemed to keep silent after that, slouching back down into the tree bark. Tsuna felt an overwhelming surge of emotion blanket her senses, and found herself staring into blank space for a split moment – why was she hearing, tasting, smelling… feeling all this emotion. For that moment, she drowned in a certain grief and melancholy, and she herself knew not why.
"Oi, are you okay? You've been giving me that horrified blank stare for about thirty seconds now, Sawada," Gokudera's harsh voice broke her out of it, and Tsuna snapped her head up to see Gokudera, hands in pockets, standing in front of the pair. In misery's place, she felt a growing headache and nausea build up from the pit of her stomach.
"I don't feel so good," she coughed out. It was then Yamamoto decided to wake from his reverie.
"Uh! Sorry about that. We should go now if you aren't feeling that well. We'll send you back first," he said, getting up and wobbling a little.
Yamamoto was definitely out of character, Tsuna thought. He ignored Gokudera and Tsuna has he walked away, head clouded in its own thoughts.
Gokudera had noticed Tsuna's perplexed glances at Yamamoto's back, and he decided to speak.
"He was telling you of our childhood story, wasn't he?"
Tsuna meekly nodded, remembering what Yamamoto said about Gokudera's violent fits. To her surprise, Gokudera did not fly into rage – instead, he put on the same mask of sorrow the Yamamoto wore moments ago.
"The girl he mentioned – Natsusa. The both of us were hoping to see her again, when we received news of her death."
Tsuna bowed her head. She had no idea how to respond, knowing that Yamamoto and Gokudera had disclosed the most intimate moments of their memories to her.
"I'm sorry."
She felt Gokudera's warm palm on her head as he ruffled her hair.
"It's okay."
Yamamoto had the most trouble sleeping that night. The reminiscing, the recalling…the resemblance. The girl's resemblance to Natsusa bothered him the most, but by most accounts of logic, the dead could most definitely not rise from the grave. Unless science had developed a sort of warped, degenerate form of technology that allowed resurrection. He shuddered at the thought.
He flipped around again. This time, he tried forcing all his thoughts out of his head, in hopes of being able to attain some sleep. The next day would be a long, arduous one, and he certainly did not want to lack energy when dawn woke him.
"Takeshi! I want you to come down for a moment."
The boy, now just barely a teen, hopped off his bed and dropped his electronic book. Over the years, he had barely outgrown his childish looks, but he had shed his childlike innocence. His eyes had grown sharper, the brown turning duller over the past few years. On his face, a large gash could be seen from his lower lip all the way across to under his chin. He hopped down the stairs – two steps a time – past his late mother's altar, and to the narrow hallway that lead to the front door.
A surprise greeted him there.
Another boy, perhaps no more than a year older than him, stood facing him. His luggage bag stood right next to him. Yamamoto could only guess that he would be a new guest in his house. However, what disturbed him most – and subsequently etched the following memory into his mind – would be the chilling look that the boy gave him. It was dark, and he had a terrifying aura that hung around him, that bore into the hearts of people. The harrowing glint that those grey eyes gave him – he would never forget that.
He knew – the boy had been through far too much, just far too much for himself to take. His will was crushed in the misgivings of life – then again, there were many more in the world who suffered. The world was not, would not, and could never be a utopia. The rich would continue their tyrannical clutch of the very poor. Yamamoto, in that sense, found himself extremely lucky. However, he could not search his heart to find a smile any longer. It happens – everyone breaks. That would be his rationale.
Then, right before him, was a boy quintessential of the broken. The heart-wrenching stares that he gave continued to bear down upon Yamamoto.
Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, the compassionate old man who was his father, bent down and whispered into his ear.
"He is the son of two of my very old friends. His parents died in an unfortunate accident months ago, so I hope that you'll find in your heart, a way to welcome the boy."
Old Tsuyoshi raised an inviting arm towards the boy.
"Please, do come in."
Silently, he picked up his bag and stepped in cautiously. The three found themselves seated with warm snacks and drinks to accompany them in the peak of such cold weather. The ensuing scene was awkward, none of the two boys dared speak, and Tsuyoshi looked at each boy, some part of him hoping that they would both accept the other and become friends.
"Uh, so! A short introduction? Hibari-san, this is my son, Takeshi. Takeshi, this is Hibari Kyouya-san. He will be staying with us from now onwards," Tsuyoshi said, trying to dispel the uncomfortable atmosphere that had formed.
"Pleasure to meet you," Yamamoto raised his palm up for a hand shake (at least he was trying), but Hibari ignored it. He put his cup down and turned to the elder Yamamoto.
"Mr Yamamoto, may I please retreat? It was a rather long journey, so I am fatigued," he said, with utmost politeness. Yamamoto was getting a little annoyed at his snobbery – if he were going to freeload, he should damn well know better than to be such a jerk.
"Well then, Takeshi. Can you please lead him to the room I prepared? It's your mother's old study room. I moved out her things to my room so that we could have space."
It was at this moment Yamamoto's agitation got the better of him.
"Why the hell are you giving him mom's room?" he said in a fit. He took umbrage to Hibari's displeasing behaviour towards him, and now his father was allowing him to stay in his late mother's room. Yamamoto took to the stairs, not bothering to escort the new guest to his room. He could go look after himself for all he cared.
Yamamoto could hear a heavy set of footsteps, then a lighter thud as his father and Hibari traversed across to the old study room. That night, both boys knew one thing for sure.
Any semblance of a friendship was lost between the both of them.
(1) 速い - hayai - meaning "fast". A play on Gokudera's name, Hayato.
(2) Kubora City - A made up place in Japan. Because I can.
A/N: What is I don't accidentally nevermind.
Oh yes, sorry to the person who asked for a longer chapter! I wrote this before you posted that review, so I guess I could try to write a longer chapter in June.
And to everyone, thanks for the reviews/feedback and sorry for the long breaks between each update!
Also, edit; I placed a "Namimori" where "Kubora" should have been. If this caused any confusion..sorry, though I don't think a lot of people noticed (and it won't really affect anything subsequently.)