Hm. I should finish this arc by tomorrow. Took me long enough for supposedly 'short' stories.

Hello Mr. Wolf (5)

It was strange to consider how much a person's life could change from a single action. One tiny slip-up, an itty-bitty little error, and everything can go wrong, so horribly wrong. It was as simple as one-two-three, as easy as hop-skip-jump.

Ayano never wanted this. There were a lot of things she wanted: wishes, hopes, and dreams. Yet this? This was terrible. Awful. Ayano could only close her eyes, hoping it would be a dream, a nightmare to wake up from panting and in a cold sweat.

But there would be no relief from this tragedy. There would be no savior, no hero; if such things even existed in this world of deceiving hate. Ayano took a deep breath, inhaling, exhaling. Ayano was ready to die.

Where had it all gone so wrong? That was one question that pervaded Ayano's thoughts in her last few moments of living sentience. Everything had been going so smoothly, so easily, but Lady Luck had to tip the tides against her eventually.

In fact, in the two short years between Ayano's first meeting with Azami up till two weeks prior to her deathday, everything had gone well. Ayano kept her conversation with Azami secret to the encampment, as was promised, and when pressed would say that she spends the night there and then leaves first thing in the morning.

As true as that lie sounded, Ayano would actually spend a full day and a half at Azami's home, with the wolves and Azami alike. In those very short years, Ayano had managed to coerce the wolves into meeting Azami face to face, and gotten all of them to befriend each other. After all, Azami didn't have many people to talk to, even if she would hastily say that one other human was enough.

Still, Ayano was satisfied with her other friends not knowing of Ayano's relationship with the magician. It was strangely thrilling to keep a secret for so long, and such an interesting one at that. It was enough just going every two weeks. To Ayano, she was content with her life as it was.

But then Kano became curious. Ayano should've known: little Kano was the only one who kept pestering her nonstop about Azami. Marry maintained her bluff, saying that her grandmother was just a herb-woman, as did Ayano. Yet still, still, Kano found doubt in Ayano's words, a little crack to squeeze in to and settle down in. The blonde was relentless when he wanted to understand something.

Perhaps that was why Ayano was about to die. No, that was foolish, disrespectful even, for Ayano to blame the consequences of her faults on others.

Because really, in the end it was her fault.

After all, everything was her fault.

Kano was curious about a lot of things. He wondered from time to time why the stars shined, why the birds sang, and even why Kido had grown taller than him. Kano revered all mysteries, like Kido's monthly cycle of hatred for him, but this? This was something different. This was something solvable. This was a case with all the evidence present and accounted for, just that the speaker wouldn't speak.

Of course, Kano wanted to know more about Azami. From the way the grown-ups talked about the old hag, Azami sounded like a boring old woman. Boring in mind, boring in body, and boring in every conceivable way.

If that were true, if all the words and stories true, then why did Ayano come back after every visit looking as if she'd won the lottery? Where were the scratches, the bruises, the dangers of traversing the long trip through the forest given form? Why did Ayano always return bubbly and energetic, as if she had enjoyed herself.

Kano prided himself on his analytical skills. He could tell easily when Kido was about to flip the furniture on him. Kano was also rather adept at perceiving when Seto was about to cry, a skill honed in years of teasing. Thus, when Kano didn't understand Ayano, something changed in him.

A barrier maybe, some aspect of his mind, some part of his will, the conscience thoughts of his body.

Kano needed to know what.

It wasn't a want.

It was a need.

To understand Ayano, the one who always took the time to help Kano make up with Seto and Kido. Ayano, the girl who would try to explain Kido's actions but never speak in clear words, but tried nonetheless. Ayano, the angel, the nicest human being he knew alive. The beautiful friendly presence that had been in his life since day one, comforting Kano after his parents were taken by the wolves, and many a time after.

Kano wondered what it was in her that changed from going to Azami's home. The burning curiosity made itself second to none, a passion raging through the veins. Kano never showed an inkling of this desire though.

Instead, he asked questions, feigning a much weaker curiosity. Things like "What did you do?" and "Did you enjoy yourself?". However, Ayano faked a stern frown, and told him nothing of substance, lies straight from the top of her head.

The rejections only made Kano's need greater. What was it that pushed Ayano to avoid the question? What was the motivation, the driving push that made her lie?

Kano felt the urge to openly confront her about it, but suppressed that idea, casting it away. It would do no good if Ayano got too suspicious of him. Maybe she'd even start to hate him. Kano shuddered at the thought.

So the investigation continued. It was hidden very well, or so Kano thought. He would ask Ayano similar questions every time she returned, sometimes pointing out the lack of dirt on her clothes, or other days why she had so much energy even after making her long trip through the forest. Kano pointed out the inconsistencies, the flaws, hints at a story he knew he was missing out on.

For two solid years, Kano's incognito searches drew nothing. His questions failed to illicit truthful responses from the nicest girl he knew. Kano was running low on options, which he reflected upon one afternoon. Kano knew that after so much time, even with every single little flaw present, he couldn't piece anything together.

Then Kano came up with an idea, something he hadn't tried, something he hadn't dared to attempt. Kano would go through Ayano's things, her clothes and trinkets and toys and tools. Kano would find something, anything that wouldn't match his knowledge of her possessions, and that might be the answer. Could it be that Azami gave her little gifts from time to time? Kano intended to find out.

In complete and utter secrecy, Kano snuck into Ayano's room, using the short interval of time that Ayano would always use to bathe, and investigate.

Ayano's room was no foreign place to Kano, but there were places he never touched, things he'd never searched through.

First, the cubbies, the little holes in the planks that allowed for secret storage place. Kano stuck his fist into every one he could find and groped for anything he could touch. After checking all sixteen crack and hidey-holes, Kano found nothing noteworthy. It wasn't a big deal, since there were lots more places to look.

Next, Kano examined Ayano's clothes, all six shirts and five pants, every sock and shoe and piece of fabric with pockets and seams he could scavenge. Kano turned things inside-out, yanked at seams, everything he could to unveil a hidden secret of unknown nature. Perhaps not the best strategy, because Kano couldn't put back the clothing the same way he found it, but nonetheless efficient enough.

As a last resort, Kano went through Ayano's bed, flapping the sheets up and down to dislodge anything foreign to the room. Yet again, nothing suspicious came into existence.

So where was the inconsistency? After those two time consuming activities, Kano was close to giving in for once, almost feeling like accepting Ayano's words, her lies. Then something caught his eye. A sparkling stone, nearly translucent and almost invisible in the light, shimmered lightly. It was almost invisible, barely noticeable even with its hazy shine.

Now this, this was something mysterious. The stone was in the corner of a shelf, placed almost inconspicuously with Ayano's old rock collection. It almost blended in with the other rocks, the rough uneven colourful collection it was. Almost.

Ayano had stopped adding to that collection over three years earlier. They had all concluded that the area was thoroughly explored, and thus decided not to spend any extra time looking for things that didn't exist. Ayano had ended up with forty rocks in her collection, a number that Kano mirrored.

But now, now there were forty-one rocks arranged randomly on the shelf. It was obvious that the one that stood out, the one that Kano couldn't recognize, it was obvious that this rock was from elsewhere.

Kano lifted the stone gently, ever so gently marveling at its inner purity. It was partially clear; Kano could see a hazy variation of his feet.

This could only have been from Azami's home, Kano concluded. So Azami had been giving Ayano little gifts, small trinkets. They were carefully concealed, and Kano wondered how many in the very room he had missed, how many he would have missed, if not for this one very important clue.

Kano imagined Ayano in the foreign structure, with an old miserly woman who could barely walk. A unique building, as all of the village-y folk described, an interesting appearance. Kano could almost see the place, obscenely blue like the clear sky, odd little tidbits flying around everywhere as if by their own will.

And then, Kano was.

One moment, Kano had been snooping around in Ayano's room, searching for the evidence he needed.

The next, Kano was somewhere else entirely, a foreign place and area. Things that obviously weren't alive moved as if they were, flying, floating, swimming in the air as if it were their natural habitat. That is, assuming fire had a home, or rocks other than the earth below it. It was like magic. Or… was it?

What if this was magic.

What if this was why Ayano could get home without a scratch.

What if this was why Ayano always seemed so happy.

What if this was real magic.

What if, what if, what if.

Kano's mind reeled, before he realized that he still held the same little pebble in his hand, almost winking at him in the light. That was it. The pebble. The pebble let him move back and forth.

"Bring me back home." Kano whispered, not wanting to spend a moment longer in this strange place, with the floating fire and living earth.

Nothing. The building still stood as ominous as ever,

Kano panicked.

What if he couldn't get back? What if he was stuck? What if he'd be stuck wondering all the what ifs he could until he died?

Kano took a deep breath. In, out, one-two-three, one-two-three.

"Calm down." Kano muttered to himself, thinking back to how he'd gotten to Azami's place at all. Kano had been thinking about what Azami's place would look like and…

Was that it? Just imagining the area? Did that mean that Kano could return just as easily? Might as well give it a shot.

Kano concentrated, bringing to mind the clearings they played in, the gardens they worked in, the beds they slept in. Kano thought of Ayano, Kido, Seto, Marry and the whole village as a whole. He closed his eyes, believing in the pipe dream that it'd somehow affect the end result. Kano could've sworn he heard someone calling out, a voice in the background, but in the illusory stupor he went through, he heard nothing.

When Kano opened his eyes, he saw Ayano's room, still in the same form he left it. Kano hastily dumped the pebble back into the congregation of rocks before rushing out of the room.

Kano had to tell someone about Azami and her magic. Magic wasn't something innocent, although flying fire did seem pretty amazing. It was dangerous. Every story with magic either had the villain using it or the heroes. From what Kano had heard, Azami was no hero. Was Azami manipulating Ayano? Anything could be possible, anything could have happened.

Kano knew at this point, that this was crossing from the realm of kids to that of adults. Magic was serious. So, that evening, when everyone who was anyone in the village grouped together for food and drink, Kano singled out Kenjirou Tateyama, Ayano's father. Kenjirou had been the one to take in Kano after his parents… passed, and were perhaps the closest thing he had to a father.

"Kenjirou?" Kano prodded the man, who had just begun to dig into a bowl of fresh stew.

"Yes?" Kenjirou, Ayano's father, replied slowly, paying more attention to his food than Kano.

"There's something I need to tell you…"

I think Kano might've been out of character? Maybe he overlaps a bit with Shintaro maybe? Eh, characterization is hard in AU's. Or maybe I'm bad at this, either seems just as legitimate.