Oops, long delay, but a longer chapter - does that make up for it?
Chapter 4
After slogging up the steps Iruka found himself face-to-face with the door of his family home. A thousand times before he had passed this spot, without a moment's pause or thought. But today the sight was overwhelming; it mocked him with its emptiness, in stark contrast with the safe, welcome feeling that arriving here had meant until now.
His gaze wavered unsteadily and his stomach suddenly tightened into an icy lump. With a shock of shame he found that he couldn't remember what traps and seals he'd set. Some of them he'd set up as deadly, in the heat of the moment. Now if he didn't remember and unseal them correctly, he'd destroy the home that meant so much to his parents. They had left him behind to guard it time after time and nothing like this had ever happened before.
Panic rose and flooded his numb body and mind, adding to the urgency to get inside. He was supposed be fully in charge here or he was derelict in his duty. Desperation made him start to grab for the door handle despite the seal still actively blocking his entrance and the tags set to defend against any intrusion.
"Don't ever panic!" shrieked his mother's voice in his head.
He jerked his hand back and it flew to his face. He was beyond simple self-control; he bit down on his hand hard to discipline it. There was no one to slap him for his transgressions now. He would have to police himself. He turned and sat down hard with his back to the door, trying to further remove the temptation to just blunder in no matter what the result.
The indeterminate number of minutes spent sitting and chewing on his hand were actually well-spent. By the time he was getting a morbidly fascinating amount of blood from punishing the edge of his palm, he was calmed and fairly certain of his ability to gain entrance to the house without detonating it. The secondary releases, he'd forgotten about them in his panic. The ones always set to enable his parents to defuse his defenses should they arrive home when he wasn't around. The signs for that were always the same; Iruka never used them in case he was observed, to keep them secure for re-use; but he knew them by heart.
When the door opened without a massive explosion, there was a microsecond of hesitation before he dove in and slammed it shut so hard that he startled himself.
The bang of the door echoed in the entry and reverberated throughout the still of the house. It was darkened inside, the curtains and blinds all drawn, the electricity still off since the attack. The moment he realized the power was off, his long-standing responsibility to the house took over. It spurred him into action and saved him from having to contemplate his situation beyond the practical.
He hurried to the kitchen and pulled out a trash bag, feverishly dumping what he knew would be spoiled food out of the refrigerator, poking a questing finger in to various items in the freezer. Most everything had thawed, but some of the larger, dense items were still quite cold. Those few things he pulled out and set aside, diligently emptying everything perishable and working until the bag was full and the appliance was spotless and empty.
Some ice and water had dribbled on the floor, so then he had to mop after carrying out the trash. The cold items perspired on the countertop, so he cleaned them as well. He thought somehow that something has gotten on the wall and he went after the woodwork and wallboard next.
By the time the sun was setting he was rubbing wood oil on the cabinets and squinting to make sure he wasn't leaving streaks. Exhaustion overtook him and he went to rest for a moment, sitting on the kitchen floor in the waning light, and ended up curled up in a ball on the cold tile to sleep through the night.
When he woke up with a start, the morning sun was slashing in and he jumped up, frustrated. He'd meant to barbecue the food from the freezer and get as much as he could under his belt, since he had no real idea how he was going to provide for himself yet or how long it would be before the gas and power returned. Now it was too late, the extra night of sitting out had ruined the last of the lot.
He bagged the spoiled items and hauled them out as well, returning to clean the counter yet again. When he could see his face in the gleaming surface he moved on, polishing the kitchen table, the chairs, dropping everything and running to polish the chrome of the faucet in the kitchen, then the bath. Once in the bath he was distracted by the fixtures, pouring raw bleach and scrubbing until his chewed-up hands bloomed with blisters, his lungs burned and his back ached.
He shoved down the panic as he remembered he hadn't finished in the kitchen. He wiped furiously at the mirror, torn between starting on the woodwork in the bath and returning to finish the kitchen.
Then he remembered seeing dirt in the entryway.
Hours of distraught cleaning and darting from room to room later, he stood swaying in front of the cabinet with the glasses. He need to drink water, but…if he touched a glass and used it, it would be dirty…and he'd have to wash it…and then clean the sink…and the handles of the faucet…and dry it with a towel that he'd have to wash…and then oil the cabinet again where his fingers had been. And in that time between the drink and the clean up, his parent's kitchen would be dirty, and he would not be doing his job.
But he hadn't had so much as a drop of water since he began his work this morning. His mind clicked and he used a clean towel to twist the doorknob and step out onto the back porch. He used the garden hose and drank deeply for some time.
He shuddered at the thought of the urination this action would eventually produce and havoc it would play with his spotless bathroom.
When the sun went down, the power suddenly came on, the radio crackling and shooting Iruka up from his dazed rest on the living room floor. It heralded an all-night linen-washing and vacuuming spree.
By the morning Iruka's swollen mind decided the house was finally clean. The only thing left in it that was dirty and in need of removal was Iruka himself.
He packed up his travel bag and made a major effort to seal the house so thoroughly even he might not be able to re-enter it without the secondary release. It had to be great; it had to show his parents that he met their last expectations flawlessly.
He heard someone coming and started to duck behind the house. But it was Shibi Aburame, and Iruka watched him enter the yard warily.
"Iruka, are you going somewhere? The ceremony for the fallen heroes is this afternoon. I wasn't sure if you knew. Come out from there, I was just going to knock on the front door and I sensed you were here in back."
Iruka lowered his head and came forward reluctantly.
"I didn't notice how badly your hands had been injured!"
Iruka's hands flew behind his back. "They're not."
"Let me see them. Umino, I am your superior, show me your hands."
With a shuddering sigh, he brought them forward and held them out as ordered.
"Those look like chemical burns." He tipped up his dark glasses for a moment while he studied the blisters. "What did you do?"
"Nothing. I was cleaning, that's all."
The older man frowned at the impressions he was getting from the boy.
"Are you here alone now?" Shibi saw the wince at those words. "No aunts or uncles, grandparents, cousins?"
The dark head bowed lower and shook in a negative reply.
"Maybe it would be better if you came back to my home after the memorial. You can lend us a hand by watching the baby, and I'll make sure you get a hot meal."
Iruka glanced up for a second at the word 'baby'.
"He's almost a year old now, I think it would be something to help get your mind off things. Just come with me after the service. You are going to the service, right? It's for your parents as well as many others."
Iruka nodded. He hadn't known, and a part of him wished he had missed it because of ignorance, because he dreaded the thought of being in a crowd of people right now. But the jounin sounded very sincere, and there was no reason to doubt him, although it was a little unsettling not to be able to see the man's eyes behind those dark lenses.
And he hadn't threatened to enter the house, allowing Iruka to relax slightly. The bug jounin placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You can come with me now and then accompany my family to the memorial. I have a few more kids to check in on, but you can come along."
Iruka ducked back, pulling out of his reach. "No thanks."
"Very well, I won't force you to come now. But you will come with me afterwards. Don't be late to the ceremony, it's disrespectful. It starts promptly at two o'clock. I'll see you there, Iruka-kun, I have to get going." The Aburame went back out through the gate regretfully. He sent a test pulse through the insects on his body back to the one he had deposited on the child when he touched his shoulder. The bugs clicked off in silent harmony. Satisfied, the jounin returned to his list, heading for the next orphaned child to check on their status and equip them with a kikaichu insect, too, if his assessment pinned them as needing to be monitored.
o0o0o0o0o
The solemn ceremony seemed to take an eternity to get started. He didn't fidget. This was one of his mother's wishes; that he would not ever fidget. He didn't cry. That, also, was his mother's wish. He made his face an impassive mask as much he could. His waif-like look and minimal nourishment for three days made it a rather sad and sickly mask at best.
He couldn't keep the mask up and the tears away if he let the things his father wished for him rise to the surface of his thoughts. So, for the sake of decorum, he focused rigidly on his memory of his mother and her relentless training. On what she would do to him if she were still alive and he made some slip at the ceremony. It firmed his lower lip and put a trace of solidity in his backbone.
The Sandaime Hokage, forced back into power by the tragic events, spoke for some time and Iruka managed to hold his composure. The effort required so much of his attention that he did not recognize a single word the Third uttered. When his parents were mentioned during the reading of the list of the many heroes being interred, Iruka barely heard them. His lack or reaction further concerned Shibi, watching in his periphery from his family's section further forward. Iruka sat flanked by adult strangers, not even shinobi, and was staring fixedly at the back of the seat in front of him. When the final moment of silence ended with everyone standing, heads bowed, the elder Aburame startled to see an empty space where Iruka had been. He hastily handed the toddler to his wife and moved through the slowly moving sea of mourners, searching.
He called to the kikaichu and the response came from the direction of the trees nearby. The special jounin was beside the boy in the blink of an eye.
"Forgetting something?" he asked mildly. Iruka jerked around to stare at him, dry-eyed and unsteady.
"Come with me, boy."
Iruka turned away again and bowed his head.
"It's not a request." The large hand wrapped around a thin, wiry arm and tugged. For a moment, he detected fear, then shame at being afraid. Shibi shook his head, frowning. "Come on, now. Don't break rank."
When he pulled gently the boy yielded this time, stumbling at first, shaking just detectably even though he was suppressing it as fiercely as his overwrought body could. As they walked they passed the wreckage of the shops and there was a moment of resistance, but the bug jounin thought better of pausing at whatever it was that was bothering Iruka about the area.
Inside the Aburame grounds, the dark fronds of the insect-friendly gardens seemed to hover ominously with strange and exotic plants. Small, erratic motion was detectable everywhere. Normally, Iruka would have been delighted and fascinated. Today, he flinched and looked away, only wanting to leave as soon as possible.
No one was standing guard over the house while he was here. He needed to get back and set up camp in the yard, make sure no one came too near.
A small squeak caught his attention and the chubby, dark-fringed toddler came boldly forward, lower lip out in determination.
His father hovered near, not quite trusting Iruka's state of mind.
A small finger pointed at the scarred nose. "Owie."
"Huh?" Iruka's hand went to his face. "Oh. Yeah."
"This is Shino, my son. Shino, this is Iruka."
"Hi Irka."
"Umino Iruka," he corrected, swallowing at the surname. Last of the Uminos, at the moment.
"Sure." The kid was too smart to try for that mouthful. "How?" The hand pointed to his nose again.
Iruka's forehead knotted. Somehow, that story that he'd heard and retold himself a hundred times at least fled his mind completely. "I don't remember."
Shibi leaned over and removed his sunshades, then peered into the dark eyes.
"Iruka, you know. I was there, too. The spider in the kitchen..?"
"He bit me?" Iruka looked dazed. "One of your spiders?"
"No, no, you must remember, I know I've heard you talk to your Dad about that day."
"Dad?" Iruka asked in a lost, puzzled voice, eyes wandering.
"Where's your Dad?" Shino piped up.
"No, son, that's enough. Iruka's very tired and I don't think he's had much to eat. Come on, Iruka, park it on the mat. Shino, move your blocks so he doesn't sit on them."
Sitting cross-legged, Iruka nodded thanks for the cup of water Shino's mother handed him and stared as the little boy patted her leg possessively. Wincing away at the rough straightening up he expected the mother to deliver at any minute, he stole a look back as he heard a small huff of breath. The woman had given the little boy a hug instead, which he received with obviously fake reluctance. Iruka looked away from their odd behavior, and drank the water dutifully. Maybe now he could leave.
"Sit back down. Where do you think you're going?"
"Home. I need to go home."
The two adults traded looks.
"Eat first. Rest a while until it's ready."
"Be good," warned Shino. One eyebrow boinked up seriously.
"All right." Iruka sighed and sat slumped down, resting his elbows on the floor in front of him. Shino wandered closer and put a hand on his ponytail.
When Iruka seemed resigned to his fate, the parents slipped into the kitchen, keeping an eye on the two boys through the doorway.
"You should take him to the infirmary, dear, did you see his hands?"
"They still have critical patients parked in the hallways. I'll give him some first aid after we make sure he eats. I can't really hold him here against his will. He's almost eleven years old, although he doesn't look it. But at least we can get a meal into him for now."
In the living area, Shino gave an impulsive tug to the thick, soft hair. "Bug thief!"
Iruka looked back. "Am not."
Shino's little hand plucked into his hair quickly, coming away with a kikaichu relieved to be back with a clan member. "Are too. See?"
Iruka shivered with indignance and anger. No wonder Aburame-sama had found him so quickly.
"You keep it. Don't tell and I'll play a game with you."
Shino ran away and for a moment Iruka thought he was going to tell on him. But the little legs came pattering back and an armload of more building blocks cascaded onto the mat. "Play!"
The two boys built things side by side, Shino making impressive four and five block stacks with the deadly seriousness of a surgeon, while Iruka carefully constructed a building, in his imagination a little shop of adobe brick, with a kindly lady selling herbs inside. If he built it well enough it would withstand anything and protect her. He reached and found the bucket of toy ninjas and stationed them all round, then on the edge of every offset brick, then all over the roof. He used every one until the blocks were almost obliterated with defending shinobi. He kept out one ninja to stand in front, to guard all of them.
If this had waited a year, maybe two, he could have been powerful enough to fight on the front lines and make a difference. To stand in the front and die honorably, making the sacrifice that saved everyone else. His mother foretold it often, up until a couple of years ago when she began to doubt him.
Too weak. Too weak to even man the reserves. Just stay home and keep house. Just a distraction. Just a useless child still.
The little shop of blocks wavered in his watery eyes and he tightened up hard, shoving down the self-indulgent urge to cry. They had died disappointed in him. So disappointed they left him behind alone. He didn't deserve pity or caring or help. He was weak enough already without the temptation of those crutches.
"Irka?" Shino asked, patting his shoulder and holding the bug again. He leaned in and whispered. "Want?"
"No. We made a deal."
"What deal?" Shibi asked, crossing the room with two steaming bowls. His wife came with another bowl, and a plate with several small portions of finger foods for Shino.
"Just to play," Iruka muttered, looking at the bowl offered to him as if it would bite. When it became clear he would have to take it, he did, and it smelled like something his mother would make for him when he'd done some thing she approved of. His throat squeezed shut and his empty stomach rolled. She would have served him dry bread and little else in reward for being useless again. If she knew he was eating like this after everything that happened…
"What is it, Iruka?"
He lifted the porcelain soup spoon and watched the liquid flow back into the bowl. "It smells too good." He started to hand the bowl back.
"Eat it. That's an order." Shibi said firmly without raising his voice. He sat on the mat at the low table across the room, his own bowl in one hand, watching closely.
Iruka shivered so hard the broth sloshed dangerously. He forced a spoonful into his mouth while Shino crunched noisily on a rice cracker, fascinated. The whole experience was interesting, he'd never had anyone who would sit on his play mat and eat with him on the floor instead of at the table.
Iruka offered a spoonful to the tyke and the adults held their tongues instead of chastising him to eat his own meal. Shino grinned and slurped, dribbling messily down his chin. Iruka used a thumb to wipe away the drips carefully the first time. A clumsy, moist hand shoved a slightly-mauled rice cracker into Iruka's face and he ate it politely, offering another sip of soup.
Eventually, they fed each other at the expense of the mat, dribbles of soup and crumbs of cracker littering their laps and the lightly patterned tatami. Shino began to droop in sudden sleepiness once he was full. Iruka jumped to his feet when the mother picked her little one up, brushing crumbs into his hand and moving uncertainly into the kitchen with his bowl and Shino's plate, searching for some thing to clean the mat with.
"I have to go," Iruka said nervously, running warm water over a cleaning cloth before wringing it expertly. The water brightened the raw hands into a harsh glowing red.
After wiping down the spots on the tatami, he rinsed the cloth again under hotter water.
"Stop, you're making your hands worse. Here." Shibi fished the first aid kit out of the cabinet. "Let me."
The man was gentle and efficient, his hands reminding Iruka of his father until he berated himself for the thought. What, now every adult man is going to make me heartsick for my father? How pathetic. He waited stiffly for the ointments and frowned at the latex gloves.
"What's that for?"
"It'll keep them clean and protected and it beats giant wraps of cotton gauze. Just leave that on for a couple of days; here, take a couple of extra pair, and change into them tomorrow morning, or if they get torn or removed sooner."
"Thank you for the food and fixing my hands, Aburame-sama. Now I have to go, please thank your family as well." Breathless from squeezing out so many words when he would have preferred to be silent, Iruka fell to his knees and went to put the plastic toy ninjas back in their container.
When his knee hit the mat, the little building collapsed. For a moment his eyes locked on the resulting tumble of blocks and bodies, his hands hovered, his breath held. A few more moments passed before he could move again. Then he hurriedly threw the figurines in their clear bucket, screwing on the giant lid and pushing it aside, pawing the blocks into a pile and irrationally feeling panic that he had no place to put them.
Shibi handed him a canvas bag and Iruka gratefully stuffed the blocks into it, bringing the space into order.
"You're welcome here any time, Iruka. Understand? I'd like you to come back."
Iruka scratched his head then jerked his arm down, not wanting to call attention to the fact that he knew about the bug and that it was no longer planted on him.
As soon as the door opened he darted out before the man could put more bugs on him.
Running home put him past his limit, and the effort to check every door and window from the outside was more than he could do, but he did it, because he had to. Task completed, he sank down on the cold stone patio and fell into exhausted sleep, deferring his much-needed breakdown for another day.
o0o0o0o0o
Two days after the memorial service, the façade of the Umino home shone like a new coin. The windows sparkled, the porches were spotless and the brass on all of the door handles had been polished to perfection. Kickplates looked like golden mirrors and the doors and window frames looked like new.
The grounds were raked, trimmed, weeded and watered. He'd found a proper lock for the gate and was experimenting with perimeter booby-trap tags to lace the expanses of fence with.
Earlier he had managed to successfully conceal himself so that Shibi thought he was not home. He was extremely proud of having fooled the special jounin. But as he finished his string of tags and let his chakra seep in to arm them, everything got slightly dim. His last real meal was at the Aburame's. He needed to find some food.
He could go in the house and get some money and buy some. Seemed straightforward enough. But every time the reached for the doorknob, he stopped. The list of things he would disrupt with the simple act of going inside and retrieving the money seemed endless. He stood for some time at the back door, and then turned away. He gathered his waning strength and made the familiar flip to the rooftop, then sprinted to the farthest eave and leapt, landing clear of his property. With a tired but determined stride he headed for the village wall.
The woods around Konaha were filled with edible flora and fauna, and the "unequipped survival" unit at the academy had been one of Iruka's favorite. Getting out of the village was easier than he had anticipated; the wall had been decimated in too many places for it to be watched completely. Stealth was by far one of young Iruka's best talents.
Soon he was nibbling on bitter reindeer moss and walking purposefully in the direction of the easternmost stream, where barehanded fishing was easy due to the clear water of the dead zones by the bank. Several varieties of edible, although not very tasty, succulent water plants grew there as well. If he was lucky, he might find water chestnuts and spatterdock. He couldn't imagine how anyone would have difficulty living in the forests as far as eating was concerned. Everywhere you looked, there was something growing or growling that you could eat just fine.
He was settling by the clear water, quiet and still, when he heard a slight motion in the underbrush directly behind him. He drifted his chakra out carefully, recoiling at the familiar feel of human presence. He turned slowly, trying to be casual and conceal the fact that he noticed someone was approaching.
Whoever was coming might be trying to be sneaky, but if they were, they weren't very good at it. Iruka braced for attack, but the brush rustled and a taller boy stepped boldly into sight, watching him curiously.
"Hey. What're you up to?" the boy frowned, walking closer without caution.
Iruka hunched defensively, turning to face him as the other boy moved, keeping him in full view.
"I said, what are you doing here? This is my spot, so you better have a good answer," the boy challenged.
His dark eyes flashed as Iruka began detailing his surroundings in reflex, scoping in on escape routes and noting obstacles to avoid in a chase or fight.
One more step and the taller boy was looking down at him. "I've seen you before. You go to the academy. So don't think that you can play dumb and I'll just go away."
Iruka swallowed. "It's not anybody's place. And I was fishing."
"Without a pole?" The boy scratched the cloth tied over his head. "Are you stupid?"
"You don't need a pole to fish!"
"Prove it."
Iruka hesitated. He didn't want to turn his back to this stranger, but he felt strangely compelled to show this kid that he wasn't stupid.
"I knew it. You're lying." He leaned closer, staring. "You look sick. What's wrong with you, kid?"
"Don't call me kid. You're just a kid, too. Come over here and I'll prove what I said to you." Iruka's lip began to tighten and his temper was warming up for the first time since the village was attacked.
He turned and kneeled by the stream, relieved when he saw the other pair of knees land next to him.
"Well? What…"
"Shhh…you have to be still and quiet. Don't move." After a while, a few little fingerlings moving in the stream came to rest by the bank, out of the current. In a flash Iruka's hands dipped and he threw the water that his cupped hands captured behind him. A tiny fish writhed on the leaves.
He blushed at the roar of laughter, the other boy's nearly white blond hair contrasting with the reddening of his cheeks as he convulsed.
"You call that little thing a fish?" he gasped, eyes tearing.
Iruka silently pinched the fish to kill it and swallowed it whole. He waited in irritation for silence. That tiny bit of fish didn't do much to help his hunger.
The amused eyes took on an almost sympathetic look. "I get it." He rummaged in his pack and held out a flat, dark strip. "Here. I have plenty. You look like you need it."
Iruka took the jerky and looked unsure. "Thanks."
Eventually they exchanged names, and Iruka ended up with a fistful of jerky courtesy of his new friend. The pair of fat fish that they caught with the pole the larger boy stored hidden in the stand of bamboo sizzled over a small fire, and Iruka almost smiled when a helpful hand steadied him on the slippery side of the bank.
After the tasty fish was gone and Iruka's stomach was dangerously full, he began to get drowsy. His new friend was tired, too. They sprawled on the soft grassy bank.
"I do whatever I want, but I've seen you with your ma. You better be getting back, shouldn't you?"
Iruka stopped breathing for a few beats. He shook his head no, but said nothing. A finger pushed into his shoulder, as if testing him for doneness.
"You running away?" The older boy rolled onto his stomach and propped up on his elbows to gaze curiously.
"No. I…I was left behind."
Mizuki's voice grew softer. "You're all alone? What happened?" He watched that interesting new face try unsuccessfully to hide some very painful emotions.
"The demon." His eyes were far away, staring into the sky without blinking. "Didn't you see it? Weren't you there?"
"No. I was coming in from a mission with my team. By the time we got in the fighting was over and we were pulled in to search for survivors. It was horrible. Your mother…?"
"And father."
"Man, that's too bad. Who do you live with now?"
"Just me."
"Really…huh. You have an apartment or something? Are you going to be able to afford to stay in it?"
Iruka's brow furrowed. In all his diligent caretaking and defending the home, it hadn't occurred to him that he was ignoring a bigger threat. Maybe the village would take his home back. His hands came to his face and he wished he'd never heard a word this Mizuki kid said. Maybe, no matter how hard he tried, he was destined to fail his parent's final request.
"Iruka?"
"I don't know. I have a house now, but it's sealed up, so maybe they won't be able to take it."
"Unless you're sealed up inside it, what good does that do you?"
"I have the back porch."
"Ohhh…hm." Mizuki thought this kid was either very strange or understandably unbalanced from his tragic loss and sudden free fall. Maybe both. He had to have the biggest, brownest eyes in the whole world, and when Mizuki looked in them, his heart skipped a beat. He felt an instant connection with this boy, foreshadowed by the casual interest he had felt when seeing him darting around the academy clutching his books and papers, serious yet joyful in his studies.
Mizuki had tolerated academy life well enough at Iruka's age, but since earning his hitai-ate he disliked the advanced classroom courses. He much preferred the rush of the hunt and the opportunity to use his cunning and wield his ever-increasing power. He was up for the exam again this year. His sensei was sure he would pass this time; he was forceful and unswerving in his drive to complete his missions successfully. The first thought that had occurred to him when he reached the ravaged, burning carnage that was Konoha in the nine-tail's aftermath, was that they might postpone this year's chunin exams and rob him of his victory.
It pissed him off so much he was throwing those dead bodies into the cart. His sensei, mistaking it for a reaction to the traumatic sight, tried to relieve him from duty, but he shook him off. He wanted someone to punish for the possibility of remaining genin when he deserved to be chunin. The dead were as guilty as anyone.
He touched the younger boy's shoulder again, and he didn't seem to mind that. He seemed lost in the world and lost in his heart right at the moment.
"You'll be all right. Look, if you need help, just come ask me. I'm out on missions quite a bit, but when I'm in the village I usually hang out here late in the day. Like I said, this is my spot. But, you know, if you want, it can be your spot, too."
Iruka found it hard to believe that he really heard those words correctly. Mizuki was much bigger, stronger, experienced at hard missions and older, too. Why would someone like that help him? But the voice was so kind, almost like Mikoko-baachan, and the little touches on his shoulder reminded him of the secret hugs he shared with his father when he really was too old for them. It made his heart ache for all he'd lost, and it left him blank at the thought of getting close to anyone else. It didn't seem possible. And yet, Mizuki had appeared out of nowhere, and now he wasn't alone in the deepening twilight.
tbc