Chapter 31

"It is a lot worse than what we expected."

Sawada-san scoffed. "I feel fine though." His bones ached, his joints were stiff – but that was just what regular old people felt. He did not complain because it was just his regular norm. Sawadas did not complain about a silly nuisance.

His son had rushed from his office after putting his father in the best hospital possible. He had taken the rest of the afternoon off to make sure that his father was fine. As it turned out, he was not. And if he had to be honest with himself, the son couldn't have been surprised. He saw this coming.

"It hurts to walk, doesn't it?" the doctor asked.
"No," the patient lied. "I'm fine."

The doctor looked at the son who only sighed.

"He won't admit it," his son shook his head. "What is the prognosis?"

"Half a year, at best," the man in the white coat answered grimly. "It will get worse at a faster rate if we do not treat him with the proper medication and care." The doctor passed the paper report over to the son who only glanced at the papers briefly before turning to look at his own father.

The elder reached for the papers himself and then shrugged. It was bound to happen. Death was always around the corner. Now he was coming to meet with it face to face. A part of him was curious to see if he could punch it right in the gut, tackle it down, and live another day. But another part of him was willing to breathe, stay at peace, let the time take him away piece by piece. It was a strange feeling. But overall, he felt… acceptance.

"You cannot show Hana this," the grandfather closed the report.

His son shook his head. "She'll know." He hated to admit anything great about the child, but she was a clever one. He gave a look of dismissal to the doctor who scurried off with a nod of acknowledgement.

"Just let her carry on with her life as she normally would."
"I do not think she can." There was no malice to his voice. His tone was factual. But it still irked him to think that his own father had thought he could carry on with his life as he normally would, but someone like that child could not. For heaven's sake, he was his biological son. How could he carry on with his life as he normally would?

"She will," the grandfather assured him, though it sounded more like he was trying to assure himself. "Like you will," he added. "You are both strong but stubborn – like your old man."

"She won't be able to work," the President grumbled to himself.

"Let her go," the elder's voice was soft. He did not demand for it. It was a suggestion. The right choice. And his son knew it too. "She was never meant to fill your shoes. Not that she couldn't, of course. The girl can do anything – but she cannot live that way."

The President frowned. "She took it upon herself."
"Because she saw no other choice to uphold the family's honour," Sawada-san countered. "She is not silly. She could have spent the rest of her life overseas, never having to step foot here again. But she willingly came back, entangling herself in this misery."

"That is stupid," the son spat.
"Is it?" the father chuckled. "It was a rather dignified choice, don't you think?"
"Stupidly sacrificial," he corrected. "I never asked for her to come back. I gave her what she had wanted the entire time."

She wanted to be the heir. She was now the heir. Now she no longer wanted it? It was a stupid game of tug and war with this brat.

"She's trying," the grandfather whispered. "Her very best."
"To do what? Stir things up?" the President scoffed. "She's nothing but trouble."

The elder sighed. "She is not a mistake."
"I never said that," his son growled. "She has nothing to do with me."

The father sighed and shook his head. Hana, to his son, was a mistake. A shameful one – one to ruin his reputation above all else. But there was more to that. She was the physical evidence of absolute betrayal from the woman he thought he had loved. It hurt him and it crushed him. But he had no choice but to carry on.

"It is not her fault."
"I know," the President gritted his teeth. He knew all of this. But she was still a stranger. She was still someone that he had nothing more but a professional relationship with. "But why did you do it?"

"Why did I raise her?" the elder mulled over this question. "Because I needed to repent for my mistake for not being able to raise you. Somehow, Kami-sama decided that this child would fall into my arms and I thought, well. This is it. I can do it over again, correctly this time."

The President stayed silent. His father was never around because he worked day to night. They were never that close as father and son but his efforts did not go unnoticed. Food on the table, shelter above their heads, and an education to thrust his son into a better life: these were practical needs that had to be met. Emotional support was a luxury that their family could not afford.

His mother had died while he was in University. It took a toll on both the father and son. They never spoke about it.

"Even if she wasn't mine?" Hana was never his granddaughter to begin with.
"But she was innocent," Sawada-san pointed out. "She never asked to be thrust into this. How could you deprive this innocent child of a proper upbringing?"

"She had everything." Food. Shelter. Higher education. More than enough opportunity.
"And she knows it too. I did not raise her to be ungrateful."

"You raised her well," the President reluctantly admitted. "But what will she do without you?"

Hana was much too attached to her grandfather. If he wanted to look at this from a professional standpoint, he would be losing productivity in his company. Even if she was just a small fry in the grand scheme of the large corporation, she did her job well.

If he had to look at her as… anything but an employee – he struggled. It was hard to define what they had. But he felt sympathetic. He was losing a father. She too, was losing a father. For someone who never had much of a parental figure to begin with, it was a loss for Hana that he struggled to put into words.

"She will… carry on," the grandfather shrugged. "She will persevere. But… not under your wing. She will break free. And you, no matter what, will have to let her go."

"That's enough," the eldest Sawada raised his voice over his two children who squabbled. He sat comfortably in the bed, his back propped up by a pile of pillows. He raised his hand to silence the two.

"I'd like to go home," Sawada-san began. He was cut off before he could even finish his sentence.
"You can't go home," the President argued. This was the best option for the patient. Any rational person would think so. The old man would walk towards his own death if there was no one looking after him. Sure as hell, Hana could not be the one to take care of him, not when she had to work.

"Why won't you listen to your own father?" Hana pointed out. "His freedom and independence should be valued more than your convenience."

"My convenience?!" The President hollered. "How dare you don't think I don't put his best interests in mind! Did I not transfer him to the best hospital in the country? Would you think I would put my own father in a mediocre facility with subpar care?!"

"This isn't about something your money can buy him! This i—"
"It's alright Hana," her grandfather cut in. His son always had his best interests in mind, and he knew this. He had the top surgeon remove his brain tumour a decade ago, he had nothing but the country's top experts to rehabilitate his motor skills during his recovery. These things were not overlooked. Hana and his son had two different ways of expressing their care for him – and that was quite alright.

But they never saw eye to eye. Their stubborn nature clashed with each other and Hana no longer wished to stand her ground, to stay in her place. There was no way he could leave these two alone.

"It's not alright to have you miserable for the rest of your life with people babysitting you! That's not what you want," Hana looked directly at the President. She glared at him with daggers in her eyes, daring him to refute her point.

"So you would rather him walk to his own death? Do you know how fragile his bones are? Do not talk about the best care when you are only blindly holding onto him like a child who cannot let their parent go. You are not in primary school, Hana," he spat her name like it was poison to his tongue. He looked at her as if she was a child, a little girl who was too scared to let go.

Hana exhaled and shook her head. She relented.

"Is that wrong?" she murmured. "Am I not allowed to keep my grandfather? To let him live the way he wants to? You can't ship him off and assume that it will solve your problems. Not when you are the one who has never had to see your father suffer. Every single step he takes with his stiff joints, every time he bends down to pick things up, every single day is a torturous ordeal that I watched. And you," she took a deep breath.

"You sit in your office every day looking over the profits that we have made every 24 hours. While I come home to watch my family silently struggle to live."

"So let him stop suffering!" The President roared. "You let him suffer! You think you're doing some kind of charity work by giving him this independence?! Who do you think you are?"

Hana blinked away her tears. This is not the time to cry. This was her fight that she was going to take on.

"I'm trying to give him the happiness he deserves," she seethed. "And you! You are taking it away! You never even care to know what he wants."

"I don't care? How could you—"
"Quiet down," Sawada-san cut through the screaming and the yelling with his own, calm voice. He had his eyes closed and his body still. Everyone took a minute to catch their breath. She could feel her heart beat through her head. His body tensed to the degree that his muscles cramped. Both children seethed with such rage that the whole room heated up with pure tension.

"I will decide," Sawada-san opened his eyes. "But for now, you two should go home."
"I'll stay," Hana interjected.
"You have work tomorrow," the President reminded.
"I know," Hana shot him a glare. "Do not question my diligence."

Sawada-san shook his head.

"Go home, Hana," the elder patted her hand. "Kaiina needs to be taken care of."

Hana huffed. "I'll come by after work tomorrow."

The grandfather nodded with a smile.

"It is a good place. The finest care you will receive. And it is by the ocean, you love the ocean," his son sat by his father's bedside. There was a palliative care facility that the Ootori group owned. Complete with 24/7 healthcare, there was still freedom to go about one's day with activities and nature walks around the area. He explained what the place was like, and he too, in his free time, had toured the area. The President had thought about this in case such a scenario had come to fruition.

"I cannot let you keep living on your own," it was not a demand. He was careful in his tone, wary of how his father felt about having to be taken care of. This was not like that. It was for his own safety and health.

Sawada-san solemnly nodded. "Hana will not like this."

His son gripped the edge of the bed tighter. "She'll live with it."

"It's time, isn't it?" the elder sighed. "I will get worse soon before long. Well, at least you two won't have to watch me crumble into a degenerate—"
"—Don't say that," the President cut him off. "I'll come visit when I can."

The elder nodded. "She'll fight against this."
"When will she ever stop fighting…" the son grumbled. "She always has a knack of saying the wrong—"
"—She has a knack of hitting you where it hurts," the father corrected with a chuckle.

The son shook his head. "She infuriates me sometimes."
"Only because you provoke her," Sawada-san smirked. "But she means well."
"I know," the President hated to admit it.

The father and son sat comfortably, letting the EKG fill in their silence.

"Tomorrow, then?" Sawada-san murmured. He would have to leave without saying goodbye to Hana. But perhaps, it was for the better. He would not be able to leave if he saw her face. It was difficult to say goodbye to the child, even if he hated to admit it. She was a grown woman now, with eyes of a fierce tiger. But even so, Hana easily reverted back to being the small fragile little girl that he molded into a warrior. The little girl that didn't want to go home to the mansion after every weekend. The one who begged to stay at the park for another five minutes to be on the swings.
"Yes," the son nodded. "We can get everything ready by tomorrow. We can have someone pack your bags while Hana is at work."
"But the damn dog," the elder grumbled. "The damn dog will be there."
"What?"
"It's quite… feisty against strangers," Sawada-san explained. It was a guard dog, after all.

The President scoffed. "Why did you get a damn dog?!"
"Hana got the dog for me," the elder grimaced. "I too, was opposed to it… but she became good company after a while."

"The facility doesn't allow for pets." Obviously, since having animals around posed a biological hazard with many patients and those with compromised immune systems.
"I figured that," the grandfather grumbled. "Oh well. At least she can keep Hana company, right?"

The son reluctantly nodded. He hated to admit it, but a part of him always felt envious of the relationship that his father had with Hana. But how could he blame them? He was a grown man in his fifties, too old to be parented. He had passed his prime in being the child to his father, and now he fulfilled his duties as the filial son by taking care of his father in the best way he could.

Sawada-san became the father that he was never able to be for his biological son. And for himself, the President had never really been a father to anyone. A part of him felt empty, seeing how fulfilled it made his own father feel. He never quite got the chance to be a father.

Relationships were never his strong suit. Computers, hardware, circuits, profits, and business – those were terms he could speak in. His own wife left him for someone else. And she tried to repair their relationship by being the matriarch of their family, of keeping up their reputation, of doing what she knew that she did best.

But it wasn't enough for him. It was never enough for him. It would never mend the hole that was left in his soul and he chose to ignore it. He chose to work harder, thrust his emotions aside as he drove further and further into growing his corporation. It was his outlet.

And for a long time, he felt numb to it all. Nothing mattered more except profits. The numbers. The product. The innovation. He was driven. He was content at work and only at work.

But his own father brought him back to life. Where emotions mattered, and his own pain became too real to ignore.

The President sighed.

Takashi heard through his grandfather that Sawada-san had been admitted to the hospital.

"The old man is fine though," his grandfather brushed off. "He called me himself, with his brick phone and all from the hospital."

Takashi quietly got up from the dinner table and brought his bowl over to the kitchen. "I will go check on Hana," he told his grandfather. The elder did not protest and nodded, even asking him to bring over some food for the young woman. After all, she was like his own granddaughter after all these years.

Mori made his way over to the Sawada residence, easily passing through the gates with his spare key. The lights were on in the traditional home. He knocked on the door and could hear Kaiina shuffling on the other side before a quick bark to alarm the owner of his presence.

Hana slid open the door. She had her damp hair tied up in a rough bun, her eyes drained after a long day. She sighed and gave him a small smile before letting him into the home. Kaiina was quick to pounce onto the legs of the familiar guest.

"Kaiina, down," she ordered. The dog complied without a second thought, wagging her tail while she waited for the guest to slip off his shoes. Mori silently placed the bag of food on the ledge before Hana slipped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

"Sorry," she murmured. Hana felt him tense up for a second before relaxing into her tight grip. Her freshly washed hair smelled like jasmine and her soft t-shirt was still warm from the dryer. She was his height when she stepped on the ledge between the shoe area and the door.

Takashi silently returned the embrace, soothing her by rubbing her back. He kissed her at the temple and pulled away. She smiled at him tiredly.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, even though he knew the answer was no.

The dog barked, as if she was the one being asked the question.

"Kaiina hasn't eaten since 5 hours ago, but I'm fine," Hana answered.

Takashi stepped into the familiar home and grabbed her hand to lead her into the kitchen. He quickly reheated the dishes and assembled the meal in front of her. Kaiina sat near the two, circling around the table for scraps of leftover food patiently.

"Eat," Takashi told her. He watched as the woman reluctantly picked up the chopsticks.

"I'm not hungry," she said meekly. "I have no appetite."

"Did you eat at all today?"

Hana thought about it. She was stuck in meetings until 1 PM and she hadn't gotten the chance to eat since 6 in the morning. Hana had been running on adrenaline all day. Her body completely forgot that she was hungry. But even so, Hana had no appetite.

Takashi quickly spooned out the rice from her bowl and carefully placed some of the minced vegetables on top. He held the spoon out to her face. Hana instinctively moved away from the sudden movement but Takashi held it in place. She stared at the food for a second and looked back at him.

Takashi narrowed his eyes at her, gesturing towards the food.

Hana got the message. He would spoon feed her if she refused to eat. She sighed and nodded, taking the spoon from his hand. Takashi watched as she ate reluctantly. Kaiina brushed between their legs and wagged her tail every few minutes before Hana crumbled.

"She's hungry too—"
"—You eat first," Takashi stood his ground. Kaiina was always hungry. Hana sighed and complied. She had no energy to argue. Not with him. She didn't want to argue with him.

"How did you know?" Hana murmured. He didn't usually come without a reason.
"Sawada-san called my grandfather."

She rolled her eyes. Like teenage girls, the two grandfathers had to update each other on everything.

"You alright?" Takashi wasn't sure why he bothered asking. It was obvious she was shaken up, even if she didn't look it.
"I'm fine," she answered, a little too quickly. She too, caught herself and sighed. Hana was unsure why she was so quick to be defensive, even with him. Her pride refused to back down.

She finished up her meal, leaving a few scraps for Kaiina who happily devoured it all. Takashi refused to let Hana do the dishes, telling her to go relax in the living room and that he would clean up. He found her sitting on the ground, with Kaiina over her legs. The dog was on its back, blissfully ignorant to the whole situation.

"She's such a good dog," Hana murmured. "You know Ojii-san has trained her to sniff out weeds in his garden right? He makes her pull them out for him."

Takashi nodded and sat beside her. He rested his arm around her so she could let her head relax against own shoulder. Kaiina sprung up from Hana's legs and made the effort to wedge herself in between Takashi and Hana. Smack dab in the middle of the two, she made herself comfortable without a single care.

The pair laughed at the creature. A little moment of bliss in their reality of chaos. The dog wanted to be a part of whatever they had. She turned to him and kissed him tenderly, her slender hand cupping the side of his chiseled jaw against her.

She was too tired to say thank you but she hoped that the gesture would suffice. He responded in his own way by chasing her lips, leaning over the dog that wedged between the two to put his hand around her waist.

She laughed against his lips and let his forehead rest against hers.

"Kaiina isn't helping, is she?"
"No," Takashi grumbled, a little irritated by body of fur that kept them apart. She kissed his cheek and parted from him. He wanted to reach out to keep her closer, but the damn dog wouldn't budge. She held onto his hand instead. The dog rested itself between the couple, drifting off to sleep.

"Don't you have class tomorrow?" Hana knew he had early mornings on Wednesdays.
He shrugged. It was fine.

"You should go home," Hana looked up to him. "I'll be alright."
"Sleep," he told her, knowing that she didn't get much to begin with.
"I will," Hana assured him. "You should too."

Takashi gently laid her head on his shoulder. "Rest." He didn't want to leave without knowing that she would sleep. She stayed in that position, comfortably against him. Once Kaiina had been fully asleep, he felt her breathing slow. In between that hazy period between drifting off into a deep sleep and being half-awake, Hana could feel him carefully lift her from the legs.

He carried her to her bed, tucking her in. She could have sworn she caught his hand before he left. She felt his lips kiss her forehead and whisper of good night.

And then suddenly, it was morning again.

Just as she promised, Hana got off work as soon as she could and made her way over to the Ootori Private Hospital. Hana let her hair down after a long day, stepping out of the elevator into the VIP ward. The young woman's heels clacked confidently down the hall, making her way to the same room as yesterday, only to notice that the plaque outside of the door no longer had the name of the patient.

She slid open the door to an empty room. The bed was made perfectly for a new patient. The machines were all off. The entire room smelled of antiseptic solution.

A nurse walked by, noticing the intruder.

"Excuse me, Miss – are you an authorized visitor?"
"Takashi Sawada," Hana responded. "Where did he go?"
"I cannot disclose the whereabouts of our patients, Miss," the nurse answered. Security was tight here.

"I'm his granddaughter," Hana said through gritted teeth. The title of being a granddaughter was not earned by her, not to the eyes of the President. "Hana Sawada."

The nurse nodded curtly. "Let me check if you are on the list."

Hana made her way over to the reception desk. Her mind was reeling through all the possibilities. What if his condition worsened all of the sudden? Was he taken for more testing? MRI scans? Emergency surgery?

The nurse did a bit of typing into the system. Hana Sawada was, in fact, on the list of authorized visitors made present only 24 hours ago by some sort of special exception.

"Your grandfather has been transferred to our palliative care facility in Shizuoka."
"Shizuoka?" Hana repeated.
"By the sea," the nurse tried to jog the woman's memory. "It's a very nice facility – built only a few years ago." That did not help. Hana did not care about these little details.

"When?" Hana could not come up with full sentences any longer.
"Around noon, Miss." The nurse patiently answered her questions without judgement.

"What room?" Hana inquired.
"I'm afraid that is not in the file. You would have to pay a visit, or call the facility." The nurse waited for more questions but was only met with silence. At each passing second, the young woman's face turned into a bigger scowl. She curtly thanked the nurse before taking her leave, quickly catching the next elevator.

Hana called the President while she made her way down to the ground floor.

No answer.

She called again.

Still nothing.

She was being deliberately ignored and she knew it. Hana wanted to scream. How could he? He could he deprive his own father of the proper care that he wanted? Hana was filled with fury, from the core of her bones that ravaged through her fingertips. She wanted to kick the wall, punch the next person she saw, burn the whole hospital down.

Stop.

She took a deep breath. Hana knew she was only one step away from throwing a tantrum. She tried to think rationally.

But all she felt was hurt. Like something had been ripped away in her body, a sudden hollow feeling that sat in her stomach after it had dropped a thousand feet. Breathe, she told herself. Her body was on overdrive. Her deep breaths suddenly turned into short gasps for air.

It felt like she had sprinted a mile, trying to catch her breath. She was hyperventilating. Her vision became starry. It felt like the walls of the elevator were beginning to close in on her, the world spun. Hana held onto the railing, balancing herself against the wall. Her fingers fumbled against the screen of her phone, trying again to call the President.

The elevator dinged. She was on the ground floor. But her legs would not move.

"Miss?" A nurse peered into the small space. "Are you alright?"

She looked like she had just seen a ghost. Her face pale, her breaths ragged and inconsistent. Hana blinked a few times, and nodded.

"F-fine," she stuttered before stumbling her way out of the elevator and finding herself a seat in the waiting area of the lobby.

It was a panic attack. Her mind shut down on her and her body had all these involuntary responses that left her as a shell of a ghost. It was the beginning of the end. How her grandfather had been stripped away from her without a word. He left. She was alone.

Her fingers turned on her phone again. Another unanswered call from the President. She gave up and decided that it would be best to speak with him in person tomorrow. For now, she needed to get home – if her body would allow her to.

Call Takashi.

It was a rational thing to do. But she felt silly to call someone to get her from the hospital. She was not raised to buckle in the face of distress. A panic attack was not going to stop her. But her mind kept spiralling. It was harder to recover from than she had thought.

Something about trying to think rationally, about remembering which subway lines to take only led her to thinking about what Ojii-san was probably thinking when he was shipped away to some far away city. Away from his garden, his friends, his own routine that he had established for decades.

A nurse approached the shaken woman. The hand on Hana's shoulder startled her.

"Can we help you with anything?"

She had been sitting in the same position for half an hour, almost without movement. As though her mind had dissociated from reality. It was a little concerning, especially for those who walked past the slouched human.

"Um," Hana cleared her throat. She wouldn't be able to take the subway, not in this state. Her zombie-like mind wouldn't keep her safe. "Could you call a taxi for me?"

"Of course." The staff at the Ootori Private Hospital provided the utmost service, of course they would – they were paid an exuberant amount. Hana sighed and stood from the wooden seat that held her limp body for the past half hour.

Get it together.

He was in the midst of gathering his things at the end of the day. Unmarked essays, his laptop, and his small pencil case that he had kept since Ouran. Takashi's phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Hana.

Hana Sawada: I need you.

It was unusual for her to ask for help. Hana would rather die than ask for help. That was the sort of mantra which the Sawadas worshipped. Takashi Sawada never buckled to ask for help, and Hana, similarly, would follow in suit.

But this was different. He rushed out of his office, running his way through the campus to catch the quickest train back to their neighbourhood. His legs had a mind of their own, tunnelling his way through the subway station and through the park. Takashi's hands fumbled in his pockets for his keys to the gate of the Sawada residence half an hour later.

Kaiina ran up to the gate before he could open the doors. Hana followed a few minutes later. She was still dressed in her business attire, a maroon sweater dress that hugged her figure with her hair pulled up again in a messy bun. She really should have worn her jacket out, he thought. It was still the middle of winter.

Hana let him through the gates and silently led him back to the house, with Kaiina following closely.

"Have you eaten yet?" her voice barely alive. He took off his shoes and stepped into the home. He placed his briefcase by the entrance and took a good look at her. Hana looked like she had just come back from the dead. Her complexion as white as snow, her lips were an ashy pastel pink. Her eyes lifeless, with dark orbs which reluctantly followed her range of sight.

"Are you alright?" Takashi ignored her question.

Hana shook her head and crossed her arms. "Not… now."
"What happened?"

Hana ignored his question and led Kaiina back to the kitchen. She filled up the bowl with dog food and let the animal eat.

Takashi watched her with weary eyes. He had never seen her like this. Not in this sort of state.

"I need you to think rationally for me," Hana leaned against the kitchen counter. The dog was now occupied so that the humans could speak without interruptions. "Because I cannot."

"Hana—" he tried to ask her for the context. She cut him off.
"They took him away from me," Hana seethed. "Shipped off Ojii-san to the middle of nowhere, by the fucking sea like that makes everything okay! It's by the sea they said. A very nice facility," she quoted. "Fuck if that makes it any better!"

She exploded. Takashi was taken back by her sudden rage. Hana receded and looked away.

"Sorry," she relented. She was out of control and she didn't expect herself to lose it. But here she was. She was human, she was hurt, and she needed someone.

"It's alright," Takashi reassured.

"How could he? He didn't even think to consult me, or even my grandfather before taking him away and plopping him in some kind of building where he is trapped with nothing to do, being babysat like he can't take care of himself!"

"Hana—"
"This is unacceptable!" she finished. Hana took a moment to catch her breath. The pair sat in silence before Kaiina sat by their feet. She waited patiently for the humans to play with her. She had been alone all day. Hana grabbed a chew toy from the stash and threw it across the home, into the living area. Kaiina leapt after the toy within a second.

Takashi walked over to her cautiously. She was in an emotional state – one that he had never seen before. She did not need to be held. She needed rationale.

He placed a hand on her back, trying to soothe her broiling fury.

"Who took him away?" Takashi murmured.
"My fucking father," she hissed. Hana said it in the same tone as he would, if he called her his daughter. With disgust. "Like he had any intention of looking for Ojii-san's best interests!"

Mori let her calm down for a minute before posing another question.

"Sawada-san would not go anywhere unless he did so willingly."

It was true. Her grandfather would put up a fight, even if Hana wasn't there. The fact that it took less than 24 hours for him to leave that hospital… things did not add up. He would scream. He would yell. He would kick, if he had two functioning legs and not a fractured ankle. He would have thrown a tantrum. That man had no shame. He was old, he always flaunted that card around. Elders were always given a free pass: to speak loudly, to get first dibs on seating, to do whatever the heck they wanted.

"But he wouldn't want to leave… he likes going on walks with Kaiina, he likes to go grocery shopping and doing his calligraphy in the afternoon, he likes his weekly chess tournaments… he—" Hana huffed. She was trying to defend her grandfather. But in the end… "He wouldn't leave me!" She choked out the truth.

Tears poured down her face. She wiped them away immediately – refusing to believe that the wet sensation on her skin had ever existed to begin with. She hated this. She hated being vulnerable. Being a whiny little child. She hated that she was being entitled and selfish. Hana had succumbed to being everything she tried not to be.

But all she wanted was her grandfather back. She wanted the man who taught her how to fight to teach her how to fight against all of this.

For so long she refused to feel. But today was the tipping point. She was angry. Betrayed. She lost her only parent. She lost the person who raised her.

And he left.

Willingly.

It tore her apart. It ruined her. She couldn't think straight. Like the ground had been pulled beneath her, she fell to deeper to the depths of the earth.

Takashi pulled her into his chest as she silently sobbed. She let out a gasping noise, a cry for air. Hana pulled away and wiped her face. Black streaks of her eyeliner plagued her hand. She must have looked like a monster.

"God, I hate myself," she grumbled. "I'm a fucking mess. I'm sorry you have to keep seeing me this way."
"It's okay," he told her. His voice was soft. Comforting. Non-judgemental. She needed his rational mind because hers was lost in the void.

Hana walked over to the cupboard and poured herself some water. She was trying to gather herself together.

"Fuck," she swore to no one in particular. "I guess I'm making a trip to Shizuoka over the weekend," Hana thought to herself. "And an appointment with the President tomorrow morning."

She was back. Her voice was steady. Takashi was always amazed by how the woman became so focused. Suddenly, everything became clear as day. Her eyes narrowed as she began thinking about her next move.

"Hana," he murmured. He watched as her eyes darted back and forth, her mind drifting away. She was planning. It was almost terrifying if she was plotting against you. "Slow down."

She looked up from the glass of water. "I'm not… I'm not going to kill anyone," Hana joked, coughing in the midst of it. Her throat was still choked up.
"Good," Takashi gave a small smile.
"I just wish I was given… the courtesy of being told his decision. He kept me in the dark like he did about my own lineage. I mean, am I… am I really that naïve?"

Hana paused.

"I guess so," she admitted. She of course, just had a breakdown over the past few hours. "But that doesn't excuse keeping me in the dark."

Takashi shook his head.

"Hana, I'm sure he has his reasons to leave." He gave the voice of reason while she was clouded by emotion.

She took another gulp of water. "Well whatever it is, I'm allowed to be mad right?" She needed someone to validate her feelings. No matter how childish it seemed.

"He's your grandfather," Takashi reminded. "Don't stay mad for long."

Hana frowned before groaning. "You're right."

She put her glass down and stepped closer to him. She had finally calmed down. Hana looked up at him, remembering the look of panic when he first stepped into the house. He must have run out of his office to get to the house in record time. How did she end up with someone as wonderful as him?

Her heart had gone through too much for today. But for now, it was bursting with gratitude. Hana could not believe how lucky she was. Her fingers traced his jawline. He smiled down at her, as if asking what? What do you need, my love?

"Thank you," she whispered. He tucked her into his embrace without a word. She kissed him sincerely, her lips pressed against his jaw and down to his neck. He held her for as long as she needed him to.

He would gladly do so forever, if needed be.

A/N: A reminder that it's alright to be human (this is something I tend to forget). I appreciate your patience and your wonderful words. Thank you for reading as usual. I'd love to hear your thoughts.