Chapter 27

Hana blinked. Did she hear right? "His… tumour," she repeated. The granddaughter could only stare at the man as she tried to process what had been said. It felt like a blur. A dream. She must have been too exhausted to properly hear what had been said.

Hana gulped and tried to speak.

"You didn't know," the President realized. The look on her face faltered. "Of course the damn old man wouldn't tell you," he sighed.

The granddaughter shook her head. "No, he…" Hana began piecing the symptoms together. The hand tremors and the limp. The vehement refusals to go to the doctor. The sudden defensive behaviour he had around her when she offered to clean the home instead of him because it looked like his arm had run out of strength.

"How long has it been?" she quietly asked.
"He's been in remission for about a decade…" the son answered, wracking his brain at the last time his father received chemo. It has certainly been quite some time. His father was vehement about keeping the surgery and chemo a secret, especially from the young ones. Hana was off working as a model and travelling across Asia while balancing high school. Of course she hadn't noticed.

"Where… where was it?" Hana kept herself calm in the midst of the storm brewing in her heart.
"The brain. The tumour was removed surgically and he went through radiation therapy, from what I remember. He's still in good health, I assume?" The President assumed that the girl was still in shock from the news of cancer, but what he didn't expect was the young woman to ask more questions.

"What were his symptoms before?" Hana needed to know. She wasn't prepared to jump to that conclusion just yet.
"He complained about his hand tremor so I sent a chauffer for him to go to a specialist," he shrugged. "It was years ago now. It took me months to convince him to go into surgery when the results were out from his CT and MRI scan."

"How did you manage?" Hana had a sinking feeling in her heart. "To convince him, I mean. He's… stubborn."

The President nodded in agreement and contemplated the answer. "I… used you."
"Me?" Hana looked up from the ground.
"It worked when I told him that you would not survive without him," he admitted. There was truth in that. Hana wouldn't have come this far without her grandfather. He was the only parental figure she had in the world, the only thing next to a family besides Hiro. He lived for her. He lived to see her grow.

"Do you think… it would work again?" the granddaughter almost pleaded. The President had never seen her voice grow to be so timid. She was usually very assertive, her voice calm and steady. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"What do you mean, again?"
"In the… off-chance it comes back," Hana clarified, reverting back to a calmer tone. Be rational, she thought to herself. He was in such good health for years, and only now did she notice these symptoms. It couldn't have been it. No. Hana refused to think of that possibility.

The President shook his head. "He's old… and stubborn. He doesn't fall for the same trap, twice."
"But you'd want to save him, don't you? No matter what. You'd do whatever it would take?" Hana may not have been close with what people assumed to be her father, but they had to agree on this subject when it came to her grandfather.

"Hana, you're reading too much into the hypotheticals," the man shook his head. Neither of the two wanted to think of such a scenario, and he could only hope that it would never become reality.

"Just," the granddaughter sighed. "Answer the question. You'd want to save him, right?"
"Well, of course. He's… he's my father," the President looked away. It was strange talking about it to her. They would never quite be father and daughter, and yet they were intertwined by the old man who was a father to them both.

"But you know him," the son grumbled. "He hates being told what to do. He doesn't like being weak. His pride is… invincible."

Hana frowned. "But… he'll have to listen to us. He can't… refuse to do what needs to be done. Whether it be surgery or chemo, he has to do it," she insisted.
"You think he'd stand down? Hana, sometimes… we are left without a choice but to respect his decision."

"And what decision would that be?" Hana didn't want to think of it. A blanket of silence enveloped the room before the President opened his mouth to speak. He was the voice of reason.

"It's his life. We are not the ones to decide."

Takashi received a text from Hana, asking where he was. He picked up a late evening shift for someone at the library and told her that he was still at work. She texted asking when his shift ended. He looked at the time. It was past 7:30. He would be finished by 9. Hana made the commute over to his university campus, with two warm tea lattes in hand.

Takashi found her standing outside of his office, after she had texted that she was around. She paced around in her black peacoat, her hair down after a long day. Her grey handbag rested on her arm while she carried the two drinks. The steps from her ankle boots were heard down the hall, and she was more focused on something on the wall or thin air than to notice him walk closer.

"Hana," he called out when he was close enough. Her head shot up at the name immediately and she made her way over to him.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I know you're at work and all. I just… needed to see you."

She gave him his cup. He thanked her for it. Hana looked deeply troubled by something and he could tell by the looks of it that she wasn't ready to say anything. She only held out her arms and asked for his embrace silently. Mori complied, even though they were in the middle of a building by his office. People had gone home by now and it was just the two of them.

Hana breathed in his scent. He smelled like tea with a strange hint of freshly copied papers. Very office-like. But he held her tightly, even if it was just with one arm and the other had to take care of his drink. She nuzzled her head into his chest, not wanting to think about the thoughts that had been running through her mind. He patted her hair, and let her take her time.

Hana wanted to cry. But they were in public and he needed to get back to work. It was only a little past 8 PM. She let go and told him that she'd wait here. He hesitated for a minute, unsure of whether he could do so – especially with Hana in this state. She ushered him to go. Takashi pulled her aside and into his office, letting her at least sit at his cubicle. That way, she could at least work on whatever she needed until he was back. Takashi chalked it up to an especially bad day at work for her, and did not question what was wrong.

Hana noticed a picture frame on his desk, it was of the Pulpit Rock in Norway. She shot that photo. She gave him that frame as soon as she got the photos printed. There was nothing else on his desk besides the computer monitor and the keyboard. It felt nice to be that one person, that one thing on his desk that he held important.

Takashi came back an hour later to grab his jacket and things at his office. He noticed Hana admiring the photo frame.

"It reminds me of you," he told her. Hana looked up from his desk and nodded. She already knew. Mori held out a hand and pulled her up.

"Let's go home," Takashi led the way back. The subway ride was quiet, as it should have been. Hana held onto him tightly. She needed him and he was there for her. There was no questioning about it. The nights became chilly as the autumn wind settled well into the season. Hana shivered and shook off the cold. Takashi didn't want to ask if she was alright, knowing that she would probably brush off his question.

But today was different.

"Did you know?" she looked up at him, breaking off the silence. Hana wondered if she was the only one kept in the dark.
"About what?" The question was too vague for Mori to give a straight answer.

"You took Ojii-san to those doctor appointments while I was overseas," Hana explained. "Didn't the doctor tell you?"

Mori shook his head. "He wouldn't allow me in the room. I was always outside. What is it?" he asked.

Hana huffed and realized that the old man was smarter than he looked. Of course he would begrudgingly go to those appointments but in no way would he allow Takashi in with him. He knew what was up. Takashi did not. The two grandchildren would never know about what was going on.

"Takashi, I think his cancer is back," Hana choked out. She tried to stay calm about the fact but the mere words were enough to capture the lump in her throat. The woman wanted to badly break down, to let her emotions run free. But she couldn't. She needed to think this through logically – without her impulsivity taking over.

"What?" Mori was in disbelief. Did he hear right?
"The President informed me inadvertently," she explained. "Apparently it started with a hand tremor a decade ago."

A decade ago, Takashi repeated to himself. They stopped sparring more than a decade ago. Mori was occupied with Ouran and kendo, while Hana was off with her modelling career and travelling. Of course they wouldn't have known about it. He bet that his grandfather had known. The two were extremely close friends.

"Takashi, the hand tremor is back," she whispered. "And now with the limp… maybe I'm overthinking it? Maybe I'm jumping to the wrong conclusion, but if it was really nothing he wouldn't be so defensive about going to the doctor." Hana was trying to be logical. She tried her best to be level-headed. Oh how she wished that she could take her grandfather to the hospital and have it settled once and for all. If only he wasn't such a stubborn old man with an invincible amount of pride. Hana didn't know what to do but she couldn't sit still like this.

"I can get my grandfather to convince him to—" Mori tried.
"Takashi, you know how stubborn he is. He's like a child. You tell him to do one thing and he'll do the opposite just to spite you to prove a point," Hana interrupted. She was terrified. He could see it in her eyes – it was a look he had never seen before. Sure, he had seen her lost and hurt, but this was a new emotion.

This was the woman who dreamed of going cliff diving and bungee jumping or anything to give her a rush of adrenaline. Nothing phased her like this. She took each fight head on, but this was a fight that Hana knew she couldn't win. No glimmer of hope. She knew her grandfather best, and she could read him better than he could. Hana knew his next move even if she didn't want to. It felt like her world was falling apart and she didn't know how she was going to hold it together when she got home.

"I knew he was old, but…" Hana shook her head. "He had the vitality of someone who hadn't aged my entire life. It's like… hitting a wall that you didn't see. A complete blindside that catches you off-guard. And it's stupid because it's just the way of life. How did I not expect this?!"

She was frustrated at herself for not being able to do anything about it. For not noticing. For not even considering the possibility of death the entire time. She was not prepared. This was something she hadn't had to train for in her entire life.

"You need to talk to him," Takashi murmured. It was the only logical thing to do. Keeping this a secret was only going to cause more distress and anxiety, and prolonging the fact did no good to Sawada-san's health. Hana knew that he was right. But she wasn't sure how to bring up such a topic.

Oh, by the way – I know you're dying, wasn't a conversation starter. And neither was crying.

"He's not going to like this," she sighed. "He's going to hate me."
"He won't hate you," Takashi caressed her back in comfort. He rested his hand on the small of her back, keeping her close.
"How long do you think I can… keep it a secret?" Hana murmured. Things were getting busy at work, and she also didn't want the President finding out, not yet. Not until her grandfather had come to terms with his illness.

Mori shook his head. That was something he wasn't able to tell her. She looked down and nodded. He wasn't the person who had answers – it was her grandfather who had them.

"I need time," Hana murmured. "Am I not allowed to have that?" Her heart was too heavy and her brain was skipping across too many scenarios. Her emotions clouded her judgement and Hana could not think straight. Tonight was not the time for her to formulate a plan. She wanted to be able to feel these emotions. To be able to take things step by step.
"Of course you're allowed time," he brushed aside her hair and brought her closer to him.

Hana was glad to have him by her side. Even while she felt like she was treading through the depths of hell, he was there. She didn't have the words to tell him how appreciative she was, or how grateful she was. Here was a man that was willing to walk her home in the cold, who listened to her emotional rambles, who stayed by her side until she said so.

"What am I going to do with you?" she mumbled.
"Hm?" As usual, he was clueless.

Hana sighed. She would make it up to him, someday. She hoped.

"Nothing," Hana smiled weakly.

Morinozuka-san watched as his old friend picked up the chess piece with his dominant hand. His other hand held onto the wrist to steady himself before he confidently placed the piece down with his hand, making a loud tap on the board to indicate that his move was far superior to his opponent's.

"You can't hide it anymore, can you?" Morinozuka-san murmured.

His old friend sighed and shook his head. "It happens occasionally," he brushed off. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Morinozuka-san picked up his piece and made his move. "Don't lie."

His friend sat for a few minutes, pondering his next move and ignored Morinozuka's comment. It would take more than that to get him to confess. But it was time for his attack.

"Does she know yet?" Morinozuka asked. Sawada snatched one of his friend's pieces and suddenly Morinozuka was stuck at an impasse.
"Doesn't seem like it," he answered, this time truthfully. "But you know Hana, she catches on quick."
"Takes after her old man, hey?"
"Don't patronize me," Sawada-san was quick to respond with a grumble.

The two finished their tournament, with Sawada-san winning by a landslide. It was a first, claimed the Morinozuka. They sipped their teas quietly, letting the two kids finish up their own tasks. It gave them time to talk. Or argue. Depending on the day.

"What will you do?" Morinozuka asked his friend. Now that his granddaughter was home, it was getting difficult to keep it a secret after all these years.

Sawada-san shrugged and responded, "I'm going to let nature take its course."

His friend raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Sawada-san nodded to himself. "I have been at peace for many years, Hanada. My son has grown up to be successful. I have raised a granddaughter who no longer needs me to keep her grounded. My job on this earth is done, no?"

"I… suppose," Hanada could not argue. "But Hana won't let you go that easily, Takashi."
"She'll have to," the grandfather blatantly answered. "She'll survive and continue to live, perhaps a more fulfilling life than mine." Tough love. He was always the one to give that to her.

The grandfathers looked at one another. It seemed like yesterday that their faces were free of wrinkles and their bodies were still able. How they would spar against each other and suddenly they were raising families with no time to spare. Now they were back to square one, sitting across from one another. A lifetime of friendship.

"I am sure Takashi will be able to take care of her," Sawada-san smirked in approval. "The plan was years in the making, after all."

"Oi, don't get too carried away," his friend chided. "It started off as a joke."
"But you wouldn't have had it any other way, now would you?"

His friend sighed and shook his head. He had to agree. It was comforting to see the two fit together, like they were always meant to be. Somehow, the kids found their way back to themselves again. Somehow, they no longer needed the guidance of their guardians. Somehow, the two had grown up to be independent and successful.

And all they could do was be proud of what they had raised.

He found her fiddling with her pen while she stared blankly at her computer screen. They opted to work at a local café, leaving their grandparents alone as they had requested. He quietly tapped her on the shoulder and nodded his head towards the door. Hana looked like she needed a break.

She silently packed up her things, placing it into her handbag and caught onto his hand before they made their way back. Hana had been more distracted lately, and with good reason after all. Between balancing work and dealing with the declining health of her grandfather, Hana had many things to be thinking about.

"Do you want to run away?" Mori offered. That was always her solution, an escape from the world. A means of gathering her thoughts, settling down and taking the time to process. He wouldn't have minded going away for a weekend, if it meant that she would feel better.

Hana looked at him strangely. "Run away to where?" Did he mean go for a run? She was open to the idea of maybe a jog around the neighbourhood, especially while the sun was still out. The rainy season of Japan had taken over the past few months. Soon enough it was going to be winter, bringing the snow and strong winds.

"Mountains," he answered her, like it was an obvious destination. They had always gone to the mountains together, at her family villa. By now, they knew the trails like the back of their hand. He squeezed her hand to let her know that he wouldn't mind coming with her.

She smiled at him and shook her head.

"As much as I loved running away before," Hana took a deep breath and shrugged. "That's not a viable option anymore."

Mori raised an eyebrow, surprised at her answer. He had thought that she would think his suggestion was one that they should take. A weekend away. Just them and the woods with Mount Fuji in the backdrop.

She squeezed his hand back and looked at him tiredly, giving him a weak smile.

"No matter where I run, or however far I go – I carry the burden," Hana explained. "I realized this while I was abroad… that it didn't matter what I did, I would always have to go back and deal with the issue at hand."

Takashi frowned at her pessimism, though he had to admit that she had a point. She had grown immensely over the years, as if she wasn't mature enough to begin with. Hana naturally wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him, countering the small frown on his face.

"It's alright, Takashi. I'm handling it. I'm okay," she reassured.
"Are you?" he doubted her. He could see it in her eyes. There were times where it looked like she was close to falling apart before she caught herself and went back to doing her tasks.

Hana nodded slowly. "I promise we'll had back one day, okay? To the mountains, or the sea. To the jungles or the deserts. We'll go anywhere we want."
"We can stay here," he offered with his signature grin that gave her butterflies.
"Or we can do that too," Hana laughed. "Just as long as you're there."

There was an awkward silence at dinner. And Sawada-san was on the verge of bringing up the topic himself, having a feeling that she had begun to catch on with the gist of his deteriorating health. But instead she broke the silence, taking him off guard first.

"Mountains, or the sea?"

It caught him by surprise.

"The sea," he answered.

She nodded. Her expression difficult to read, for the first time in his life. Sawada-san was unable to decipher her emotions. It was odd. He used to be able to read her like a book, noting every little change in her behaviour. But her years abroad had him rusty in his skills, and she had grown into a strong, independent woman. He could no longer see her as his own grandchild, still swept up in a bundle of blankets, crying in her crib absolutely helpless.

He didn't have to ask why. He already knew why she asked.

"How long do you want me to keep it a secret?" She faced the problem head-on. Just like how he taught her. Analyze the situation. Act on your decisions. And do it swiftly, with no time to spare. Quick and efficient was his method of fighting.

Sawada-san raised his eyebrow at her and placed his chopsticks down.

"The President doesn't know," Hana explained. "He asked me if you were going to your appointments for your tumour."

He swallowed and sighed. He had to admit, parenting the second time around was better in that he was finally able to experience it. With his first child, his wife had done the work before she had passed away. And soon, his son found him to be more of an obligation to take care of, with filial piety deeply ingrained in his roots.

"I haven't—" he tried explaining.
"—I know," his granddaughter cut him off. "I'm asking what your plan is. I'm asking what I can do for you."

Hana was calm and collected and continued on with her meal as if nothing had happened. As if it was a regular day. She took the reins on this one, and she was in full control. Sawada-san could not help but to smile. He had raised her this way. He had done well. But there was a more pressing issue at hand and he could not revel in his triumph for too long.

"I have no plan," he admitted.
"Are you going to tell him or do I?" Hana cut to the chase. "You owe him that much."

Sawada-san shook his head. "How do I even tell him?"
"The same way you were about to tell me, a few minutes ago," the granddaughter pointed out. Hana was quick to catch onto her old man's hesitance during their meal. She knew what was coming. "You have the upper hand here. You do what you want."

"Upper hand?" Sawada-san raised an eyebrow.
"He's accepting of whatever choice you make," Hana hinted. She knew, deep down that that was the truth.

It's his life, rang at the back of her head, the President's voice replaying over and over again. He had come to terms with the outcome, no matter what it was. Hana, no matter how much she pretended, had not. But for now, all she could do was pretend.

"Alright," Sawada-san nodded. "He doesn't pick up my calls, anyway. You tell him."
"What?" Hana looked up from her bowl of rice. She figured that her grandfather would be the one to tell his son. Not her, the illegitimate daughter telling her father that his own father was dying. That was strange.

"You offered," the elder shrugged. "It's a conversation I don't want to have." He was old. He was allowed to do this kind of stuff. Right?
"This is also a conversation I don't want to have," Hana gritted through her teeth. "And that is a conversation I would absolutely not want to have."

The grandfather shrugged and brushed it off.

"Can you at least go to the doctor?" She sighed and pleaded with her eyes.
"Why do I have to make the trip to someone that will tell me what I already know?"

Hana rolled her eyes. It felt like she was reasoning with a snarky child. Which really, was what her grandfather was.

"It's not about someone telling you what you already know, Ojii-san," Hana lectured. "If you're suffering then—"
"I'm not suffering," the elder grumbled. "So what if my hand tremors every now and then?"

The granddaughter shook her head. "That's not the point. You need the care from a professional before it's too late."
"I've fought it off long enough, Hana. I don't need another round of chemo," the elder mumbled. It was too much. It was tough the first time around, and he knew when to accept defeat.

"Look who's jumping to conclusions here," Hana pointed out. "Maybe there's some kind of medication to help, or—"
"I don't want it." The man was adamant. He had made his decision. He had suffered once, and it was more than enough for his lifetime.

The granddaughter put down her chopsticks.

"You don't have to take it," the young woman offered. "But give us both a peace of mind, alright? Go. I'll take you and if I don't, then you know your son will – likely by force with an army of bodyguards or some kind of home-visit to make sure you're having those appointments."

The elder grumbled and shook his head. Now that his son had the wealth and the extravagance to do such things, the scenario seemed quite plausible.

"You said I had the upper hand," he pointed out.

Hana shrugged. "He'll accept your decision but not without trying to sway you first. Don't you think so?"
"Is that what you're doing?" the man furrowed his brows at his granddaughter. She wouldn't dare play tricks on the old man, she knew better.

Hana shook her head.

"What do you think?" she shot the question back at him.
"Oi, don't play games with me, child."

The granddaughter only chuckled. "You think I'm handling this too well, don't you? You're expecting… I don't know what. Tears? Yelling? A dramatic fight? I had enough of that years ago – when I found out I wasn't your biological granddaughter, remember?" Hana could still feel the pang in her chest, the heavy aching heart that she carried around for so many months as she recovered from the news. It left a scar that healed over many years, but it was still a memory she could replay at any given instant.

Her grandfather's eyes faltered. He too could remember the day she knocked on his door – yelling and ready to kick it down. He had never seen her so hurt. Physically wounded and tired, yes. But to watch her hold the shattered pieces of her soul together through tearful eyes, his heart ached as much as hers.

"I… don't know what I was expecting, Hana," he was honest.

Hana gave a small smile.

"Expect everything you have taught me to be, Ojii-san."

Hana spent most of her days in the office watching the numbers on her monitors change. It was actually a stressful job with high risk and high demands but there was something oddly exciting about it. Hana never saw herself as a quant. But here she was, sitting at her desk and crunching numbers on the daily.

Her cellphone rang in the middle of the afternoon from an unknown number. Hana cautiously picked it up.

It was the Ootori.

"You're being heavily considered as a candidate for marriage, Hana," the Ootori informed. "Seems like you're quite the commodity among the upper-class who have been vying for appointments with your mother."
"Good to know," Hana curtly responded. She stayed out of her mother's business. Hana liked to pretend that she wasn't getting married off any time soon and focused on her work. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Accept our offer." She could pretty much hear his smirk over the phone.

Hana paused, mulling over his words.

"But why?" Hana couldn't quite understand. The Ootori had prospects too, in fact, his family was much more powerful than the Sawadas. And he, of all the other families, knew very well that she was involved with Mori.

"You want time."
"Yes, but – that seems oddly gracious of you to be offering your hand in marriage," she was blunt. They were business partners after all. They didn't beat around the bush.

"I want time too," the Ootori explained. "Neither of us want to settle. You are merely a piece of the puzzle to greater my own prospects as a potential heir."

Hana could see where he was coming from. They were familiar with each other, she was the sister of his high school classmate. They were not strangers. He needed her to look like a greater prospect as an heir, to show potential in keeping the Ootori family bloodline. His brothers were already married, after all. The only thing he was missing was securing the future Ootori line of heirs.

The woman finally put the pieces together.

"You just want your mother off your back." It was Hana's turn to smirk.

Kyouya stayed silent for a few seconds before gritting out a statement.

"If that will make you feel better about this proposition, then you may think that," the Ootori tried to play it cool.

Hana smiled and laid off the teasing. Kyouya's logic was not flawed. They were both suitable for each other.

"We can talk logistics in person, then? I'd imagine you'd like to draw up some kind of contract," Hana guessed. They had discussed this back in the day, but neither of the two had truly expected things to turn out the way they did.
"Ah, yes. Yes of course," the Ootori agreed.

The two scheduled a time to meet over the week after work.

Sure enough, Hana received a call a few days later from her mother. To which, of course, she ignored. Hana immediately regretted the decision to actively avoid her mother when the secretary knocked on her door the next day.

"Um, Miss Sawada?"

Hana was engrossed in her monitors and mindlessly greeted the woman to come in. She wasn't picking up her calls and that was likely why the secretary made the trip to relay messages in person. Hana apologized when the door opened.

"Sorry – I know I haven't been picking up calls. The market has been on a rollercoaster thanks to the elect—"

"Your mother is here," the secretary cut off the young woman to get her attention.

The atmosphere suddenly turned eerie. A sudden blanket of silence fell upon Hana before she sat straighter in her chair and sternly dismissed the secretary. Hana's mother looked around the office. The daughter watched as her mother made her own silent judgements.

It was quite simple, a little smaller than she had imagined given that it was the heiress' office. This was hardly the treatment she expected her daughter to receive. There was barely any seating space. Just her desk and 4 monitors, with two chairs in front of where Hana worked.

"Hello Hana," her mother greeted. "I was thinking we could have lunch together. It is your lunch hour, after all."

Hana shook her head. "I ate earlier." That was a lie. She was living on coffee and pre-cut fruit that her grandfather had packed her. Hana did not go out with the rest of her officemates as she holed up in her own office and ate her packed lunch instead.

"Oh," the elder's voice fell flat. "Well I heard that you had a date with the Ootori th—"
"What?" Hana was flabbergasted at how she would find out. It must have been the Ootori that appeased his mother by telling her about their meeting. The news eventually found its way through the grapevine. Their meeting was far from a date. It was a negotiation.
"Oh dear, that's nothing to be ashamed about. The Ootoris are a top candidate after all – I'm so proud of—"

Hana put down her pen and crossed her arms in an attempt to stay calm.

"You're proud?" Hana repeated.
"Why yes, of course Hana. I've always been proud of you."
"Have you, really?" the daughter found it hard to believe. Her mother celebrated her daughter's aesthetic appeal and trophy-wife candidacy for various families, over her capabilities as a businesswoman.

"Well, why wouldn't I be? You've turned yourself into quite the candidate. I have phone calls on the daily from various families asking to set up meetings – oh my goodness, Hana."

Hana sighed in frustration. Perhaps there would never be a day where she would see eye to eye with the woman who stood in front of her, rambling about the superficial appeal of the climbing up the social ladder. A woman so caught up with the world of wealth and extravagance that her reality was skewed and limited only to the bubble of the upper class she lived in.

"Is that it?" Hana kept her calm. "I don't have time to entertain you." She made it obvious that she wanted the woman out of her office.
"Oh no, Hana. The Ootoris are having a benefit for their hospital –"

Hana was aware of this. Kyouya had told her about the event. It was unfortunate that he would be out of the country, taking care of a few meetings in America. He advised her not to attend until they were both ready to make an official statement about their partnership. Hana was adamant on having no statement whatsoever. The Ootori believed it to be nonsense – if they were going to make it seem believable, of course there would be a statement of some sort.

Official statements weighed too heavily on both of their reputations. Time and time again, it was always the woman that had to be blamed for any kind of fault in a relationship. Hana had her best interest to protect her own reputation.

"No," Hana refused.

"But Hana," the mother tried reasoning with the daughter who was always too stubborn for her own good. The girl was always going out of her way to make life difficult for herself.

"I was not made to be shown off," the young woman stood her ground. "I refuse to be belittled to some kind of trophy that you want the world to know about."
"That's not what I—"
"—It is," Hana corrected. "It is exactly what you have raised me to be. A human mannequin. A model. A pawn."

"Hana, why are you so petty? You have always been a stubborn child. You never listen to your mother, and you never think to let me finish a sentence before jumping to your own conclusions."
"Petty? Petty about what?"
"Your little financial career that you hold so dearly onto. Hana, face it: no one cares about what you are doing here – everyone is waiting for you to settle into the place you were made for."

Her fingers gripped onto her arm with such force that Hana could feel her nails digging into the skin.

"And what place was I made for?" Hana knew the answer and wasn't sure why she had bothered to ask.

"To be a socialite, of course," her mother was oblivious to her daughter's fuming temper. Hana looked at the stapler in her drawer and sighed. No one wanted to explain why there was a hole in the wall and how it got there. Hana was too old to be throwing things at walls and breaking them.

"Hana, the world awaits. You're wasting your time in this office when you can be out networking with—"
Hana stood up and took a deep breath. She gestured to the door.

"Please leave. I have many things to take care of in this petty little financial career I hold very dearly to," her jaw locked out of tension. "I don't have time for your events, or your little schemes. I don't care for it – I never have."

"Hana—" her mother tried again. "Just look at the way they treat you with this cramped space and awful position – don't you want more? I'm trying to better your life, Hana! You don't have to be working this hard for nothing."

"I want you to leave me alone," the daughter sighed out of exasperation. "I don't need you to look out for me. I am going to ask you to get out, while I am still patient." Hana was stern with her words, her piercing eyes stared down the face of her mother who hadn't looked like she aged past 35. It couldn't have been normal, she thought to herself.

"You can't kick your own mother out," the woman scoffed.

"I will call security," she threatened. "Do not test me."
"You father will hear about this," her mother threatened back, playing the only card she had.

Hana hesitated before pulling the last straw.

"What father?" She narrowed her eyes, daring her mother to continue. The woman huffed and shook her head.
"You're an ungrateful brat, you know that? We have provided you with everything in the world you throw it back at us as if you have the world at your feet."

Hana practiced meditating with her grandfather over the past few months, usually after her workout and before she went to bed. Deep breathing exercises came in handy when Hana felt like her entire chest was going to explode out of rage.

"At least Hiro has the decency to call his mother every once in a while! What do you do? Scurry off across the world, pretending you aren't part of this family, throwing everything we have worked for so you can—"

Her mother stopped at the sight of Hana picking up the phone and dialed the number for security.

"Hana, you will not call—"

The young woman asked for an intruder to be escorted out of her office, ignoring her mother's pleas.

"How dare you disrespect your own mother! Have you no shame, Hana? I did not raise you to—"

Hana rolled her eyes. "I am sure the President will hear about his wife being escorted out of this building if you don't leave right this second."

It was enough to have the woman leave at her own accord, her heels echoing down the halls. Hana slumped down into her chair and watched the numbers on her screen fall deeper and deeper.

It was just an awful day.

Hana didn't like being dependent. The idea of having to be dependent on someone felt so dangerous. What would happen when you didn't have them anymore? What if you grow to be so comfortable that you're lost without them? She didn't like the inevitability of having that empty feeling when they were gone.

She hated to admit how much she depended on her grandfather. How she knew his time was limited. How the lunches he packed were not forever. The stupid exercises he made her do after work weren't going to be a part of her routine. His grumbling about his dog stopped occurring and soon, Hana found him spending more time with the stupid dog, giving her belly rubs and spoiling her with boiled chicken nearly every day.

She could see it in the way he acted. How he took every day to be a little more special. He would go the extra mile to take care of his granddaughter, to walk another block because the dog wasn't ready to go home, he would go out of his way to buy the best produce so he could cook the freshest meals.

Hana broke down crying on her way home. She couldn't keep it together, no matter how hard she tried. Everything about the day just made her feel terrible. It started with her eyes welling up. And suddenly, as soon as she stepped out of the train station, it felt like she couldn't breathe. Her nose became runny, her eyesight completely marred by the blurriness of the teardrops that flowed down her face.

She was crazy. She knew she looked like a maniac. Hana took the time to sit on the bench of the park so she could at least calm down before heading home. It was chilly. The winds were getting stronger, the sun set faster now that it was already autumn.

Hana looked at the reflection of herself on the screen of her phone. She couldn't see anything. It was too dark. She tried wiping away the tears and prayed that her eye makeup hadn't run down her face to look like a monster.

"What are you doing?"

Hana jumped at the voice, getting ready to defend herself before noting that it was just him. Of course it would be him. They got off work at around the same time and he walked through the park to get home too. Of course he had to catch her in the midst of a breakdown, trying to clear off the streaks of black around her eyes with her stiff, clammy hands from the cold.

"Um," Hana cleared her throat. Her voice was hoarse. She was still recovering. "N-nothing."

Mori kneeled down and looked her in the eye, while she sat on the bench. She tried to avert her gaze.

"Were you crying?" he asked, his voice low.
"Uh," she tried to play it cool, even though she knew she was failing miserably. "No."

He took her hand. It was freezing cold. She really needed a pair of gloves, he thought to himself. She pursed her lips and looked down. Her makeup had smudged around her eyes. Her cheeks were still wet. Hana was embarrassed but she still refused to acknowledge her tears. She was so stubborn at times – but she always had been.

On the mat, she never knew when to give up. He clearly remembered throwing a punch at her jaw and he could have sworn that he knocked a molar out. But she gritted her teeth and socked him in the stomach. Next thing he knew, she spat out a pool of blood and their grandparents called it a day before she could throw him to the ground. She was nine. He was barely a year older. Sawada-san still told the story to his friends because he was just in so much awe of his own granddaughter.

"I don't want to fight you," Mori murmured. "Just tell me what's wrong."

She felt like an emotional mess. She was so embarrassed on top of it all. Through the frustration and the guilt in the afternoon spurred by her own mother, and the thought of losing her grandfather as she commuted on the way home. Hana was in shambles emotionally. Mori was the last person she wanted to see while she was in this state.

"I don't know," Hana sniffed. "Where to begin," she finished.

Takashi shook his head and enveloped her with his arms, patting her back. She buried her face in his chest and relaxed in his arms.

"From the beginning, then."

A/N: I feel like I had failed two of my finals in the past week and I needed an escape from misery. (Unsurprisingly, I feel like this chapter has mirrored my own verge of breaking down thanks to uni - but that's a whole other story.) This was written over the course of the term and the last half was written in about a day, while I procrastinated in studying. As usual, I am unsure of when the next time I'll update - hopefully soon. I hope all of you have been doing wonderfully, and if you are also caught in the midst of exam season like I am, I wish you all luck! Good vibes for you all & Happy Holidays! Your thoughts are of course, always much appreciated.