"Would you like whipped cream with that?"
Kiku shook his head silently. He came to this Teahouse much too often. What could he say? It was among the best ones in Marahito. The pretty girl at the counter smiled at him, but he didn't pay much notice. He didn't really care. He'd wait to fall in love. Everyone would. The girl's brief smile disappeared, and she told the lady behind her that Kiku did not want whipped cream in his hot chocolate.
It was among one of his first times ever trying hot chocolate. Kuro, his sixteen year old brother, insisted he try it, claiming that it was delicious. Kiku had shrugged, and replied with a 'Maybe.' But, growing curious, he'd decided to try it anyways. He moved aside for the next person to order their drink or little snack, and went to sit by the window of the café, staring out the window through blank brown eyes. He didn't bother to take off his jacket.
Outside, it was raining. For the past week, it seemed to always be raining. Kiku sighed, resting his chin on his palm, deep in thought.
When he heard his name called from the counter, he jolted, then stood, regaining composure, and walked over to where the cup of hot chocolate stood. Reaching tentatively towards it as if it were going to lash out and attack him, he touched the cup's side. It didn't feel too hot, so he grabbed it and, yawning slightly, put the cup to his lips and took a small sip. It wasn't bad.
Stretching slightly, he thanked the pretty girl at the counter and turned, opening the door to the café, stepping out of the warmth into the cold rain. Damn it. He hadn't brought an umbrella. Shivering to himself, he took another sip of the beverage to put some more warmth into his body and set off at a brisk pace towards home.
Kiku lived in a village called Marahito. Most of it was wilderness; flowers, weeds, and other greenery that was slowly but surely creeping over their fences into their gardens. The Japanese didn't mind this much, for the wilderness was their friend. If you were at peace with the mother of wilderness, then she would never hurt you or your family.
So they never picked weeds.
But today, the mother of wilderness seemed sad. She was sobbing, crying, trying to stifle her great, wracking sobs as the rain came and went, then came again. This was never a good sign. Something bad always happened on a rainy day.
Closing his eyes briefly, he fumbled with the key to his home, where him, his mother and his brother Kuro lived together. Kuro was nice. Kuro was very nice. Kuro read him stories when he was younger when he was scared; he lay next to him in bed afterwards until he fell asleep. His laugh was wonderful to hear, so filled with joy and happiness. That would all change in a matter of time though. But for now, Kuro was Kiku's role model; the person Kiku looked up to in times of need. Kiku's perfect older brother.
When he let himself in, thudding footsteps greeted him, along with a shout of his name.
"Kiku!"
Kuro embraced him. At first, one would think he was happy; he was normal. But oh, no. It was far from that. Kuro's chest was heaving with great sobs. Surprised, Kiku let himself be hugged by his brother, then pushed him away for a moment to look into his bloodshot red eyes. What a peculiar colour for eyes, red was.
"What's wrong, Kuro?"
He asked, trying to get the tremble or worry from entering his voice.
"Father's about to..."
Kiku didn't let his brother finish. He pushed Kuro away, racing down the hall, footsteps loud and thumping on the creaking wooden floor. The door to his father's bedroom slammed open. Ayame, his mother, looked up from beside his father's bed, eyes filled with unshed tears. She was holding her husband's hand, which hung out from the sheets, looking gray and cold.
Oh.
Oh.
"What's wrong with Father?"
He asked, forcefully, though he knew exactly what had happened. His mother didn't reply, just stared up at him through pain filled brown orbs. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Kiku backed out of the room. The door slammed shut once more.
Kiku's father had been very sickly for the past few months. The family had brought him to the doctors countless times, but not one of them could tell them what he had. He kept coughing up blood, and telling them in a croaky voice that it would be okay, he would be okay. Lies. All of that was a lie. For his father was not okay; he was lying in his bed, dead. His father was dead.
He heard his mother scream in agony from the other room as the first pang of loss hit her. As the first pang of pain coursed through her veins.
Kiku backed away from the door once more, not wanting to hear it, not wanting to hear any of it. Wanting to block out the noise, wanting the tears to stop, wanting everything to just disappear.
And in his mother's world, everything had disappeared.
Her soulmate was dead.
Ayame Honda was strong. She was a strong woman, and she refused to leave this earth until her sons got their soulmates. Despite the pain she felt in her chest, she continued to live for them and for them only. She was an aspiring writer before her husband's death, but she was forced out of that job due to money shortages.
Her husband's name was Takumi.
She became a businesswoman, going on train to the big concrete building she worked at. The grey, imposing building that seemed to rise above all of the others. She began wearing better, work-suited clothing, and her whole attitude towards life changed. Kiku didn't know what she was going through, but he did know one thing.
When your soulmate dies, your soul wants to rip away from your body to join your soulmate's in death. But when said person doesn't want to die, they just feel that aching, ripping pain in their chests, until the day they pass away.
His brother had changed as well since Father Takumi's death. Kiku would walk into his room to find Kuro lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, vacant expression upon his features. It was like he was dead. Other times, Kiku would catch him tugging at his necklace, trying to pull it off. He didn't want to end up like their mother. He didn't want to end up heartbroken, for his heart wasn't strong enough for that.
Gradually, Kuro grew meaner.
Gradually, Kuro began to hate on his brother's desperate attempts to cheer him up.
Gradually, Kuro began to hate his brother.
Gradually, Kiku grew frightened of him.
On Kiku's fifteenth birthday, he went back to the Marahito Teahouse. He ordered a hot chocolate.
"Would you like whipped cream with that?"
The pretty girl at the counter smiled at him, but it faded quickly when she saw his almost dead expression. He replied with the slow shaking of his head. He was still grieving. Her smile turning crooked, the pretty girl told the woman behind her that he didn't want whipped cream in his hot chocolate.
Kiku went to sit by the window, staring outside, deep in thought.
It began to rain, drops of water tapping against the glass that separated him from the mother of wilderness' tears.
A/N:
Hi guys!
I've been working for 12 hours straight on the template and this actual chapter. I hope you've liked it so far!
DISCLAIMER:
Hetalia does not belong to me. The character Kiku Honda, Arthur Kirkland, and the idea of Kuro Honda and Sakura Honda do not belong to me. All of that goes to it's rightful owner, Hidekaz Himaruya.