Today, Jyuudaime takes three times as long to read any paragraph, then stares into space at least twice an hour. These days, she's just slower.
Hayato means that with all the respect it deserves. It's not like she leaves all the work to him. (Though she could and should if she needs to.) It's just... coupled with the fact of her increasing frequency in almost dozing in class...
(It wouldn't be a problem if Jyuudaime just slept like that baseball fanatic Yamamoto does. On the pain of someone else's death, Hayato would happily make it his mission that she continued napping uninterrupted. Sadly, Jyuudaime cares too much about giving teachers their due respect, though Hayato doesn't see why. They're not learning that isn't in the textbook.
Even if she skipped school, there's no doubt that Jyuudaime would stay top of the grade. Though that's a moot point as long as Reborn-san is her home tutor, as she can't skip school.)
Something is going on with Jyuudaime.
It is Hayato's failure for only confronting Reborn-san about it just recently. (Instead of confronting Reborn-san much earlier, as soon as he noticed her change of behaviour.)
(Maybe even before it became a problem—A good subordinate anticipates situations before they become a crisis, can't they?)
"Sakura does many things in the pursuit of being Vongola Decima. If you're so worried, why don't you ask her?" Reborn said.
As if Hayato could. He would never dare be so presumptuous.
The creak of the door signals Jyuudaime entering the Student Council room. Noticing both of her subordinates, she gets right into it, "I just met Omura-kocho-sensei. He doesn't like how unchecked the students' social media is, especially our official one, with its live coverage and all that. He's worried about student safety. Though Nami Middle doesn't exactly have secret events…"
That old man is worried about pedophiles and child traffickers, huh? Makes sense.
"The Sports Festival was ages ago," Yamamoto says, inherently wrong. Almost fourteen days was nothing in the grand scheme of things. "Maybe he means for class field trips?"
Field trips?
She nods, humouring Yamamoto. "Or maybe he just noticed? He understands the world is changing, and the school website isn't cutting it. Kimiko-sensei is trying but, he also wants our opinion on official media exposure."
"That old man is too lax. Depending on the Namimori Middle staff—hah!—like any of them have any experience. He should ask a professional," Hayato critics.
"He has a lot of faith in us, especially after you got almost a thousand followers that first day." Jyuudaime smiles at him, and a thousand angels sing.
Then Yamamoto interjects and destroys heaven. "There's nothing wrong with having some Namimori pride. Besides, I wonder who's been gossiping? Can't picture Omura-kocho stumbling around online. Do you think he knows we trended?"
"Doesn't matter," Jyuudaime says, "We got a new project now. The least we could do is make a list of do's and do not's for social media usage for the students. Then, present it during Hall. I wasn't worried during the Sports Festival. Kyoya patrols before, during and after school events, but Omura-kocho-sensei is right, we can't be too careful."
Jyuudaime sweeps aside the Sports Festival, and with it the matter of Hayato's failure at securing their win at the Sports Festival, like it's a dust in her eye. She may trivialise it all she wants, but Hayato knows she's boiling at his failures. First the Sports Festival, then that Bastard Hibari.
"If you talk to the principal, Takeshi, don't mind what he says. He thinks you're the secretary," Jyuudaime continues, unaware.
Yamamoto eyes her, perplexed. "I am though..?"
She returns the look. "What are you talking about? You can't be in a club and the Student Council, especially with your grades—I mean, no offense meant." She winces. "Sorry?"
"No, I get it." Yamamoto shrugs. "Doesn't matter. The teachers made an exception for me."
"Wha—When?"
Hayato cuts in, "It's been 9 days," 8 hours, 59 minutes since Hayato regrets this decision.
Her eyes narrow. "That's almost straight after Sports Festival. Why wasn't I informed?"
"I got the permission of our teacher advisor." For this small matter, he leaves unsaid. But considering that Jyuudaime doesn't seem pleased… He'll be sure to inform her of any future recruitment then. It didn't change much. It's only a slight step up from lackey to secretary. Yamamoto still hangs onto Jyuudaime like a leech, a parasite, a digestive worm.
Honestly, Hayato shouldn't be telling her every insignificant thing that happens, or every time he plans to rough someone up.
(She should trust the work of her Vice President and Right-Hand Man, right?)
Conveniently, Yamamoto stays silent. Typical.
Jyuudaime sighs. "You know Genko doesn't care."
Hayato shakes his head. "No, the new one."
A moment of silence for one, two, three seconds, before—
"…What new one?" Jyuudaime asks, tentatively.
The Student Council room door opens, catching the attention of everyone in the room. Nobody enters the room without knocking. It's just. Not Done.
In steps Reboyama; Hayato relaxes his muscles, rolling his eyes. What a waste of good paranoia. Hayato will have to teach the new teacher what is and is not acceptable conduct within Jyuudaime's Student Council room.
"Good morning, students. How is everyone today?"
While Yamamoto busies himself with small talk, Jyuudaime says, "Reborn?"
Hayato looks around, subtly checking windowsills, floors, the vent and, just to be safe, in Jyuudaime's school bag. Unexpectedly, the hitman is nowhere to be found.
He turns to Jyuudaime. "What about Reborn-san?"
Jyuudaime waves a hand up and down Reboyama as an answer.
Hayato squints before abruptly straightening. "OH. Reborn-san took out Genko to give us Reboyama! That's genius, Jyuudaime! As expected!"
Yamamoto pauses mid-word, jaw flapping, turning away from Reboyama. "Are you saying the kid got sensei fired?"
Hayato snorts. "No. Obviously, Genko is dead."
Yamamoto's eyes widen.
"I'm sure Genko is reassigned somewhere. Reborn didn't kill him," Jyuudaime assures, hastily but with confidence.
…Is it Hayato's job to tell her about how Reborn has killed more people for less?
It is, isn't it?
But before Hayato could go into that, who the fuck cares if Yamamoto is there or not, Jyuudaime goes on. "Forget about that. Reboyama is Reborn."
As one, all three turn to look at Reboyama, who is heavily sweating and shaking, terrified by the weight of his new position and its pension towards death.
Silence.
"…What about a nap, Sakura?"
Thank all the UMAs, better Yamamoto than him.
"Excuse me?" Jyuudaime asks, shrill.
Yamamoto winces, and normally Hayato would delight in his misfortune, but this is truly worrying.
So Hayato gets the obvious out of the way first. "This is Reboyama-sensei, the new Namimori Student Council Teacher Advisor. Reborn-san would never wear such a subpar suit." Hayato scoffs, unable to help himself. It's not even Armani (which these days are more brand fashion than genuine quality). But what could he expect? Teachers are paid shit.
Yamamoto nods, finger gunning. It's another tally that proves Hayato's theory of Yamamoto's 'I'm a clueless idiot' act. "Reborn's fashion sense is pretty sharp for a child."
Jyuudaime's head thunks against the back of her chair. She groans before waving off Hayato's worried call. It doesn't ease his worry, especially when she adds, "Headache. So, sensei, why the sudden visitation?"
"Is it a crime to check up on students under my care? Of course, and officially meet the Namimori Middle's President."
"Yes," Jyuudaime agrees, "It's quite amazing that I'm only meeting you now."
Hayato's eyes flick back and forth between the two. He didn't expect there to be a problem, because Jyuudaime hated Genko's cowardice and absence. And well, Reboyama is not absent from Student Council matters, at least. So far. Yet.
Okay, Reboyama is now on thin ice. Hayato will watch him like a hawk.
Maybe Jyuudaime resents the oversight?
He understands.
Reboyama clears his throat, a sign of nerves. "You'll hear it from me first. The Student Councillor you petitioned the principal for came through."
"That's great! You were worried that nobody suitable would want to be based at Namimori Middle, right Sakura?" Yamamoto interjects.
Jyuudaime doesn't answer that, instead her eyes narrow. "Where did you find the Councillor?"
"She comes recommended."
To that, Jyuudaime smiles. "Does she? I'll have to spare some time to meet her then."
Reboyama smiles back. "You'll meet her soon. She needs to fly in."
..
..
"Did you fill in these stupid forms?" Takeshi hears, a hand hovering before sliding open the classroom. It sounds like Mochida-senpai, the Kendo club captain. Takeshi hesitates going in. Gokudera glares at him for stopping, but doesn't actively complain about eavesdropping. He settles in, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. The stack of papers he holds carefully tucked between his arm and his ribs.
"Yeah, just now. What do you think these things will actually do? Do you think we can get a teacher fired if enough people complain?" Tanaka this time, also a third-year kendo-club member.
It's only natural since Takeshi and Gokudera were visiting the Kendo Club.
Mochida scoffs. "Doubt it. These don't actually do anything. She's just a little teacher's pet—That rigid Ice Bitch."
The verbal attack stuns Takeshi, so sudden and unwarranted. He almost misses Mochida being hushed swiftly.
"Don't talk so loudly. I'm pretty sure Sawada's," on cue, Gokudera straightens, eyes sharp, "got access to the school cameras."
"The ones with no audio, you dumbass—"
Takeshi can handle the gossip and the careless cruelty. He can handle how at each disregard of Sakura's forms—forms Sakura made on his behalf—a part of him shrinks.
But hearing another word from Mochida's mouth? That would be too much.
Takeshi slides open the door with a bang, and the whole frame rattles. The guys' heads whip around, eyes bugging out of their heads. They almost startle right off their seated positions on the desks. Shame, that. "Mah, we're here to collect the forms. What was that you were saying?"
In reality, Takeshi wanted to watch them for a minute or two, as they sweat & stumble over an excuse to save their own asses, but Gokudera cares not for such games.
Gokudera enters right on his heels with a glower of death, immediately growling a succinct, "Scram." Or die, Takeshi continues in his head. That's what Gokudera really means.
They hear it too, for they couldn't leave fast enough, luckily leaving the forms behind. Takeshi doesn't know if he will ever admit this, but he appreciates the way Gokudera can clear a room. Takeshi used to have the exact opposite problem.
Gokudera spits as they leave. It hits Mochida's shoes on the way out. Mochida doesn't notice. It must be a talent. The amount of aggression he can pack into as little movement as possible. "Those fucking assholes. I should kill them for insulting Jyuudaime."
Takeshi's own fist clenches and unclenches.
"That name, it's not—The nickname is actually Ice Queen."
Gokudera slowly turns a baleful stare at him, as if asking what's his point.
What is Takeshi's point? Gokudera cares for gossip a middling amount, at most. Yet… There's something inexplicable inside him that needs the other boy to know.
Ice Queen.
He's never called Sakura that out loud, but it didn't mean he didn't use to think the nickname was fitting.
(Actually, maybe he has? Passingly, an acknowledgement, if anything at all. He never meant it like those guys did. He never said it maliciously.)
Takeshi frowns. "That was her moniker before Kaichou. She's just so.. cool and composed. Not even a little afraid of Hibari-senpai, you know? And Hibari-senpai is the Leader of Delinquents." Damningly, he adds, "It's as if her heart is as untouchable as ice."
Back then, he thought it was a cooler nickname than Hibari-senpai's Demon of Namimori, but now… Takeshi wants to shake some sense into his younger self.
"That's not true!" Hayato explodes, rightfully so, wild eyes glaring straight at him. (As if Gokudera knew that, once upon a time, he too thought the nickname was fitting enough.)
Takeshi looks away. "Yeah, Sakura feels deeply."
Gokudera scoffs, though softer than usual, both a 'you know it' and 'you better not forget.' "Fuck. I need a smoke."
"Sakura doesn't like that."
"Don't tell her."
For all his bluster, Gokudera doesn't even pull out a cigarette.
He swipes the forms, counts them, swears, counts them again.
"All there?" Takeshi confirms.
He glares, and that's the confirmation. If Takeshi is wrong, Gokudera isn't ashamed to share it. Actually, he relishes it a lot, but it's fine. There are worse vices than being petty.
Gokudera adds it into the pile, carefully sectioned with Kendo Club. Then they head to the last stop.
Takeshi isn't sure how these forms work, but he trusts Sakura when she says it'll help monitor club standards and student satisfaction. Every student must do them, not just the ones in a club. It's anonymous, but Gokudera says that's really for show. Once you filled in the form, it's easy to extrapolate and accurately guess which student it is. He says that's true about all scientific trials and then he entirely went off topic. Yada yada privacy is a myth, the government is watching us, the deep systematic coverup of U. .
Gokudera is a funny guy.
He fits really well. Not just at the Student Council, but in Namimori.
Sure, Namimori is practically the safest place around. Visitors come and go. With an awesome park, shrine, shops, hospital, even that substantial forested area nearby, there's something here to attract everyone.
But residents moving to stay? Doesn't happen.
Some people try to settle here every year, but they rarely last the year. Takeshi is quite skilled in separating who would stay and who would go. When he was younger, he'd make a game of it.
Gokudera's here to stay.
Takeshi can admit, if only to himself, how he's envious of how rapidly Gokudera stuck to Sakura.
Takeshi has never known a time without Sakura, if only peripherally. They have always been in the same school, same year. He has tried to remember the first time they talked but… it's hopeless. He can't even remember their first meeting. They both grew up here and when it comes down to it, Namimori isn't that big of a place. Not for children. Heck, Takeshi lives ten minutes away from Sakura's place, it can't get any closer than that!
He would've liked to say they were friends, but it would be more honest to say they were friendly.
Sakura has always been serious, even as children. She was weird, honestly. And well… Takeshi loved to laugh and to hear laughter. It was only natural that they didn't fit.
When he was running outside, playing baseball, Sakura would sit inside reading thick books. The kind that were never anything interesting, just difficult and dull and frustrating. Often by herself.
Which was such a shame. Sakura was so good at baseball. Sports. In Nami Kinder, before they separated PE into sexes, they were often in opposite teams. It was a toss up who would win. Takeshi remembers those matches fondly.
Sakura was good at everything. Takeshi has never seen her struggle in anything, nor did she care what anybody thought.
She just didn't get along well with people their age, and she always turned down hangouts outside school times. Sawada Sakura was just too cool.
Eventually, everyone took a hint, until leaving her alone was the norm.
For a long time, Takeshi thought she preferred it that way.
But really, Sakura just wants friends who get with her program. The program that is her Student Council work. (Probably. He would know for sure if Gokudera just spilled the beans on all the hush hush already—) Takeshi can do that. He's never pegged himself as a role model for students, but if Gokudera can be Vice President and be like that, Takeshi would fit in fine.
They arrive in front of their deceptively harmless destination. Both boys were grim. Gokudera takes point, knocking, then entering with Takeshi following his heels. Being friendly won't help them here.
Kusakabe looks up from his desk.
"Ah, Gokudera-san, Yamamoto-san, the forms I suppose? All here." Kusakabe pulls a specific folder from the pile and handing them over.
"Everyone accounted for?" Gokudera asks, cool and professional, but still undeniably tense.
Takeshi knows the feeling.
Even though Kusakabe nods, Gokudera still counts, then scowls.
"One missing."
Kusakabe frowns. "There's thirty-two forms."
"You have thirty-three members," Gokudera volleys back.
Kusakabe opens his mouth, eyebrows still furrowed, when Takeshi cuts in. "Did Hibari-senpai fill in a form?"
Kusakabe's jaw clicks shut as realisation lights his expression.
Gokudera scowls deepens. He pulls out a blank form from the very end of the pile in his arms. "Where is that bastard? Let's get this over with." He takes the clipped-on pen and clicks it. It echoes loud and pointed.
"That's not a good idea. Kyoya-san doesn't do things under duress, as you well know," Kusakabe says.
Gokudera knew. He had the unfortunate self-appointed task of getting Hibari to make a speech. (Amazingly, it eventually panned out. But before Takeshi thought Gokudera had more success in picking a fight with the sea and winning. Takeshi will never underestimate Gokudera again.)
"Especially if you want it quickly," Kusakabe adds. "This is my oversight. Let me fix it. I'll get the form to Sawada-san by week's end."
Gokudera makes to argue, but Takeshi lays a hand on his shoulder. The daggers in his eyes are typical, so Takeshi pays them no mind, saying, "It's fine. We'll still need to move the information to an Excel spreadsheet, and we have everyone else's. One person won't make a difference."
Gokudera scoffs. "With our luck, his will skew the data."
Takeshi shrugs. "What works on everyone else wouldn't work on Hibari-senpai."
To that, Gokudera is forced to concede.
They head back without meeting Hibari, which Takeshi is grateful for.
Truly, it's not his business. Hibari and Sakura have been fighting forever. And while at a distance, he could assume it is a weird form of rivalry and/or friendship. It's only closer, after listening to Sakura, that he sees deeper.
Gokudera might complain the loudest, but it was truly Sakura's eyes that spoke the worst. Takeshi respects Hibari. He couldn't live in Namimori and not respect the way he does things. But Sakura doesn't. Her eyes hold all her callous disrespect. She never oversteps their partnership, and her complaints could be good-natured to anyone else, but Takeshi sees.
It boggles Takeshi's mind.
Especially since Sakura is so kind.
Underneath all the politeness and distance, she cares.
"—think about it, Kaichou. I'll guarantee it'll be great," floats into Takeshi's ears from the voice of Watanabe. He's a first year too, Class C. He cried heavily when he saw the class distribution lists and blamed it on Spring season and the heavy pollen floating around.
Is he confessing in the middle of the hallway? How incredibly bold.
Of course, this leads to Gokudera coming in hot with a scowl, even as Watanabe stands his ground. Ah yes, he is part of the more courageous half of the school, along with the rest of his club.
"You can also bring Gokudera and Yamamoto if you want," he concedes. Oh, is it not a confession? He also nods at Gokudera. Takeshi's eyebrows shoot up. He's part of Gokudera's faction? Damn.
Astoundingly, Gokudera's eyebrows say that's not good enough.
Watanabe grits his teeth. "I'm sure karaoke counts as a date location. It'll meet the criteria for Yamamoto's win, surely?"
Takeshi levels Gokudera a flat stare. It is not cool to sabotage his friendship goals for Gokudera's friendship goals. That's against the bro code.
Especially since Gokudera's using Sakura's fanclub. That's another level of unfair.
"I'll think about it," Sakura says, which means no.
Takeshi swings an arm around Sakura's shoulders, smiling perfunctorily at both boys. They both bristle, and Takeshi grins wider. "Thanks for the invite. It sounds like fun, though Sakura's tutor doesn't allow a lot of free time. If anything changes, we'll definitely get back to you."
Watanabe takes this with grace before leaving. Gokudera doesn't. Mostly because Gokudera knows Takeshi is bullshitting.
Sakura turns to stare at him. "Did Reborn say we're doing something this weekend?"
Takeshi laughs. Of course not! He just said that so there are no hurt feelings. "Who knows? That kid always has something planned."
Sakura looks thoughtful, so carefully Takeshi guides Sakura back to the Student Council room.
Unfortunately, just before entering safe grounds, they run into their biggest threat.
Hibari steps out from within the Student Council room to meet them. His cool features a metaphorical slap to Takeshi's face.
Takeshi, and Gokudera he notes, stiffens. Sakura raises an eyebrow, tone admirably neutral, "The window? I thought you outgrew that. We might be on the ground floor, but the door still functions."
Gokudera's face scrunches in a bewildered scowl as they exchange glances. Yeah! What the hell?
"Never disrupt haha-ue's day again," Hibari warns Sakura, a low growl. Chills run down Takeshi's spine. He's never heard Hibari use that tone before.
Sakura laughs, light and entirely in Hibari's face. "Chiyoko-oba called me. If you didn't want her to worry, hide your injuries better."
Sakura pushes past him, and Hibari's face twitches, not a smile nor a frown, but something that is clearly not the blase reaction he so wants. He doesn't stick around though, too crowded, leaving as abruptly as he arrives.
They enter the Student Council room.
The door clicks shut, and almost immediately Takeshi says, "I can't believe Hibari-senpai just invaded our room like that." Since he is the last one through, he locks it on a whim. Away from Hibari's presence, and with 20/20 hindsight, it's not too surprising. Hibari goes wherever he wants most of the time.
But another, needier part insisted: Surely, they had an understanding, right?
Takeshi tests the door. Yep. Still locked.
Sakura heads straight for her desk, twisting a piece of paper on it right side up to skim it before passing it off to Gokudera. "Don't get offended. When he's moody, he picks a fight. He just wanted to drop this off," she consoles.
That doesn't make him feel better. Takeshi's not been on this side of Hibari's moods. Like most of the school, he has a working system to avoid the Leader of the Delinquents. Not that it matters now. He knew what he was getting into.
He keeps the door locked though. That's enough visitors for one day.
Uncharacteristically, Gokudera doesn't add his two cents. He's too busy staring down at the paper clenched in his hands.
Gut slowly sinking, Takeshi peeks at the paper.
It's a filled-in Club Health & Wellbeing form.
The last one missing.
..
..
TakeSushi is a lovely sushi bar.
A perfect cool cover away from the blazing sun's rays. Stepping into the restaurant was to be lifted of heavy burdens. The decor was mostly ocean blues and earthy browns and evoking the classic styles from The Great Wave off Kanagawa. The seat arrangement allows effortless movement as flowing as a river. Best of all is the tranquilizing smell wafting from the kitchen.
It has an atmosphere that welcomes anyone.
Truly, it's a shame Nana doesn't have a reason to eat here more often.
"I'm sorry if I'm disrupting your lunch," she says. Glassware clinks on wood as one by one bowls are met with table top by weathered hands. Tsuyoshi has a fisherman's hands, if to a lesser extent. "Really, I only stopped by for a moment. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"Nonsense, a meal tastes best shared," Tsuyoshi says.
That is entirely true. After, she'll offer to help set up the restaurant before he reopens.
Conversation starts as they always do on the status of Tsuyoshi's restaurant and Nana's garden, then segues into something more vulnerable. In this delicate period, Tsuyoshi reaches for bonds of a stronger nature than usual. Nana doesn't begrudge him that. Her daughter hasn't said a word, but she didn't need to. The community offers plenty.
"Do you," Tsuyoshi starts, in between refilling her drink, "ever worry about Sakura-chan falling into bad influences? The wrong crowd perhaps?"
Her lips quirk up involuntarily. What a funny thought. "No, never. It's not like her. She's an excellent judge of character. I would've fallen for a lot more scams without her."
"But it's easier to spot something wrong from the outside, not so much when it's happening to you," he insists. "What if she came home with a stranger of, um, bad influence?"
Nana laughs. She's had that same daydream before, many times even.
"Well, in this hypothetical scenario," Nana playfully humours, "I would… not forbid them from being together. That might go two ways: she could run away with the stranger, or she would meet with him behind my back. For either, she'll resent me for it, and she'll stop listening to me. But if I were to be apathetic to her choice, she might take that as permission. So it'll be best to sit her down and have a talk with her. Be open and honest and fair. They respond to that.
"But if that doesn't work, if she's adamant, she'll bury her head in the sand and do it anyway."
To this, Tsuyoshi looks grim.
"They're young, Tsuyoshi-san. They'll make mistakes somewhere. Sakura knows she is always welcome to come home, no matter what happens. I think that's the most important part."
His demeanour doesn't soften, instead gaining a faraway look in his eye. Nana lets him have this moment.
But the silence stretches on and on. It doesn't look like he'll be the one to break it.
Nana sighs, before confessing, "I think Sa-chan is frustrated that I don't expect more from her; a fancy job, or lofty goals to be a millionaire." Hearing this pulls Tsuyoshi from his morose thoughts. Nana goes on, "Whenever she comes home, it's 'tests came in, did well again' or 'school is so boring, why can't I skip to university?' or 'there was a fight at school, Kyoya-kun finished it.'
"I don't want to borrow bad news, but sometimes I'll daydream that she'll start coming home with poor grades, or, as you say; if she wants to run away with a stranger—what would I do? What should I say?" she offers.
"You mean situations where," here he carefully chooses words, not even meeting her eye, "she leans on you for guidance?"
Her heart throbs, deep and unmistakable. Nana smooths it over with a commiserating smile and thoughtful humming. "Sa-chan loves her independence. She can run when she walks, and climb when she speaks. The absolute sweetest. When she comes home, she doesn't bring trouble, for she doesn't want me to worry." Despite her words, Nana's smile isn't as bright as she wants it to be.
"A parent always worries," Tsuyoshi validates, to Nana's beaming pleasure. "That's our job."
"Exactly."
Tsuyoshi takes a deep breath, doesn't meet her eye. "Takeshi, he… lost his mother so young, and I lost my wife. The years haven't been easy, but I thought I was doing okay raising him. I thought he knew he could count on me, that we would push through this obstacle together, like always. Then, the school calls me, and… I have never failed anything so badly like I failed my son at that moment."
Tsuyoshi tears up, and Nana reaches a hand out, a supportive touch. It bolsters him.
"With Takeshi going through a tough period of his life, I am grateful for Sakura-chan for being there in ways I can't. He's at that age now, where everything important lays with his friends."
His fingers grip tight, and Nana squeezes back. She knows exactly what he means.
"You've raised a wonderful daughter, Sawada-san."
Nana smiles. "Did I? The years have flown by, as if she raised herself."
..
..
These nights Shamal is never alone, but not in the fun way.
Exhibit A is asleep on the hotel couch, which provides more style than comfort. He would offer the bed, but—hah!—he has some self-awareness. Nobody would take that well from him. Rightly so.
Handwritten notes, both his and hers, lay strewn across the table in between cold cups of half-drunk coffee and half-eaten donuts, the designated snacks of the night. They often have discussions; why something wouldn't work, or explaining the minutiae of the disease or the research or the flames. She doesn't yet have mafia level knowledge of these matters, but she picks it up terrifyingly intuitive.
He brings his knowledge. She brings her mind. Together, the experimental procedures they create are ludicrous yet so tantalising. Just the right shade of possible.
God, to have the mind of the youth, where reality isn't just different ways to say no.
The way she goes about the possibilities of fine flame control, it's like she's found the cure for cancer.
Shamal shuffles the papers together for the night, grabs the cups and the plates. Every time he's the one cleaning up, always the last one awake. Finally, he grabs a blanket.
Sakura's head rests against the back of the chair. Her delicate brunette locks cover half her features, but ineffectively hides the bags under her eyes. The artificial lamp helps conceal the dullness of her skin. She practically inhaled the coffee earlier. Her youth would help her bounce back, still it's not healthy. Bad habits will be bad routines that lead to a terrible lifestyle. He should know. Shamal drapes the blanket over her figure. She might not need it—it's summer—but the Italian mafia raises voluntary gentlemen. Good manners for your allies, and entirely conditional to your enemies.
He hasn't had this much hope in what? Years possibly? Surely ever since Lavina's death and subsequently discovering that Hayato has the same condition.
So long that Shamal has almost forgotten what hope felt like…
A click of a gun echoes through the room.
Shamal freezes, not noticing his hand was reaching for her face. He only meant to brush the hair from her face, an entirely innocent gesture. Honest. All the same, he retracts it, flexing his fingers, thankful to have all of them still attached. Reattaching them would have been a pain.
Reborn has always been a possessive bastard.
He pulls out a cigarette instead and heads out onto the balcony. Reborn join him in the cool night air, his baby figure sitting poised on the edge, a glass and bottle in hand. Shamal huffs a laugh. Reborn didn't even have enough shame to bring his own. Between the two of them, it's not Shamal who's richer. But that doesn't matter—richer people are greedier. Counting coins when they can spare thousands. It would be disgusting if it wasn't a fact of life. Shamal takes a long drag and releases it.
"She's brilliant," he says. Reborn's expression doesn't change. Is that how they are going to play? "You really lucked out this time, huh, Reborn? After that Cavallone brat."
Reborn sips from the glass, eyes on the horizon. "They both have their challenges."
"She's already smarter than half the doctors I know."
"She won't settle for anything less than the best."
Shamal snorts. "Like teacher, like student. If she can heal him, heal Hayato, it would—I became a doctor to give second chances. To myself, to Lavina, to people I like. Needing someone else to interfere in my business... I should hate it, but I'm just so fucking relieved." Shamal releases the smoke from his lungs, feeling the nicotine kicking in, loosening his muscles. They all try to control death in their own ways, but eventually, everyone loses. Just another fun fact of life. "I thought old age makes one wiser or some shit, but it just makes you more cynical."
The silence between them is companionable, comforting in its familiarity.
He contemplates if he should break it before deciding to just go for it. "She might be good enough to find a way for you too."
"Don't, Shamal," Reborn cuts, sharp with warning, then more mildly, "I've made my peace. I can't go around chasing cures that aren't there—Not anymore.
"False hope will only hinder me from living in the present."
Shamal nods. To reminisce on that first meeting of theirs… Hah, what a heart attack this fucker gave him. All to hire him for that original job—to erase Reborn's existence—which took a disproportionate amount of trust for a primary job. So in true Reborn fashion, he leads Shamal on the kinds of jobs that only someone of Reborn's calibre could attract. Reborn ran him through the ringer, every sort of stressor there was, any sort of torture possible. Hell would have been a vacation destination in comparison.
All the while, in that short time of a year, Reborn got increasingly desperate. Reborn was at the tail end of his investigation; after decades of continuous, relentless searching, turning mafia circles on their head, and flipping through networks—legal or illegal, fake or real, big or small. He burned every lead to ash for the slimmest of a chance.
He found nothing.
When Reborn finally burned out, Shamal was there—the designated doctor, a discrete colleague.
Shamal sighs, pouring some more of the good alcohol in apology.
Years after that first meeting, trials and tribulations included, and no irony involved, Shamal is finally a trusted friend.
Reborn inclines his head in gratitude.
...
...
1. Kocho-sensei = Principal (I think). Haha-ue is a humble & respect way to address your mother. Also uncommon, used btw noble families & samurai. I could write 'haha's' (which is also humble & respectful) but it looked so bad.
2. This interlude is here bcs Shamal's pov was one of the first scenes ever drafted for this story. I stuck to Sakura's pov (for writing ease). But I was attached so. Tell me if you like it
3. Some parents move to Namimori just so Kyoya can straighten their delinquent child for them. Ah yes, the very difficult decision of letting their child join the yakuza or Hibari's cult. They're very desperate parents.
4. Nami fanclubs have defined characters. Sakura: Bold. Kyoko: Protective. Gokudera: Obsessive. Takeshi: Supportive. Kyoya: Nonexistent (officially disbanded; unofficially very sneaky). Fun times all around. Nami residents have mastered the art of gossip entirely behind the subject's back. This is mostly a survival tactic.
5. What? Actual student council work? Nah man. Is this even under their juridiction?
6. Actually, teachers in Japan are paid decently, but also it's because of their long hours
do I know of parenting? What do parents know of parenting?
8. Lowkey hate the way I write TakeSushi. But stylistically, it would be written that way instead of Takesushi.
9. If there is chap disconnect, I'm blaming it on the pov changes, but really its been so long, I have forgotten what was written for this story. I've reread this chap so many times, I can't even judge it anymore.
10. New character incoming next chap.
