PART THIRTY-FOUR !
her true intentions ii.
BY THE TIME HE WALKS IN your threshold, the deed has already been done. the corpse of your uncle is on the living room carpet and he finds you in your room, legs curled beneath you at the edge of your bed, swallowing your breaths.
fuck, she's having a panic attack.
Hanma is quick to approach you. "y/n." he says your name softly, like he's speaking to a frightened animal. he washes his golden eyes over your figure, his calm heart pacing at your distress. and for a moment since he'd met you in that graveyard—Hanma Shuji, a grim reaper and a boy who always conquests for thrill feels nothing but absolutely pity for you.
pity about your dead brother that gave you solitude, about your unconditional and one-sided love towards the notorious Izana Kurokawa that came and went, and now the fury and betrayal towards your long time family member that raised you, a person with absent parents. he couldn't have imagined the unbridled loneliness that is burning your bones right now, it must've been suffocating.
he kneels himself in front of you. poor girl.
a girl who grew up too fast, a girl who clung to misery and watched her life get thrown and ripped to shreds in front of her. it's the first time since he'd met you in front of Kisaki's grave, that beneath that irritating, hypocritical exterior of yours was nothing but a barren girl who wants her older brother back.
who wants love and solidarity.
Hanma instinctively reaches out, clasps both his hands with yours, and he feels your body tremble beneath his palm.
"hey—"
"i killed him." you whisper, gasping out a breath as fat tears roll down your cheeks, hanging at the edge of your chin. "i just killed someone—"
"hey, hey Kisaki-san, look at me. you're okay, you're fine, you did it for your brother." he cannot tell why he's coaxing you, "look at me, follow me okay? watch how i breath in and out, you'd do that for me, right?"
you paused a moment, nodded then measured your breaths, mimicking Hanma's actions as he slowly inhales then exhales: after awhile your palpitating heart relaxes, the dizziness in your head seizes and the electricity pattering your skin vanishes, all that's left was the unrelenting tears and a wave of empty sorrow stuck between your rib cage.
"you did well, the plan we came up with was a success, good job." Hanma whispers reassurance, caressing your hand slowly, fondly, watching you beneath his lidded eyes as you slowly crack and break.
he concluded that his heart twists sickeningly when you cried. i don't want to see this girl so sad, is what he thought when your tears rolled down his thumb, shining like a diamond.
this girl, really. there was a tug in his chest, something constricting, then tickles at the edges. he is suddenly dizzy himself, the temptation to lean closer and touch you burning him alive from the inside. Hanma releases your shoulders, proceeding to wrap it around your body gently and gathering you softly onto his chest, his nose buried at the top of your head as he draws circles on your back.
"good job." he whispers again.
your heart is a wreck in your chest. maybe because there's this feeling of burning loneliness within you that you didn't move when Hanma pulls you into his embrace, didn't protest when you feel his lips on your forehead, murmuring reassurances—maybe at this very moment all you felt was the greed, the temptation to quench the loneliness with, his touches.
for a split moment you just want to forget the world wholly.
and Hanma was the only one by your side.
that's how you got your back pressed against your mattress, Hanma's lips travel from your forehead to your cheeks, kissing the remainder of your tears before he gripped your bloody hands, kissing your knuckles to lessen the pain that burned through your whole body.
his lips found yours a second later. it felt soft and grounding, and your panic, your pain—is finally at the back of your head. a noise slips between your lips when Hanma pulls away to trail his down your neck, kissing your tattoo once, twice, then intertwines his hands with yours as he kisses you harder.
thunder billows outside your window, and that allows you to pull away from him, pushing his shoulders until the silence swallows every corner of your room.
you see Hanma lift his head, his golden eyes on the window as the first few tears of rain stain the glass. after that his eyes lands on you, it softens, then he rubs his thumb across your cheek.
"you good now?"
you cannot find your own voice, so you merely nod your head. Hanma lets out a sigh, moves away from you and straights himself.
he reaches out a hand towards you. "now that your uncle is out of the picture, it won't be long before Quoia catches a whiff of what happened here. it's best if we start rummaging around for information, i'll keep a lookout."
you gather yourself for a long moment and once you finally found your balance, you cleared your throat. "i'll go to his office then."
Hanma hums, assisting you as you both exited your room. you faltered the moment your feet steps outside, the rotting smell of blood screams in your senses.
"y/n?"
"i'm fine." you got out. you push yourself further until you've reached the door to your uncle's office. you were never allowed to enter it before, and as an obedient niece you never question his intentions. you didn't waste anymore time and unlocked the door, the room didn't have lights but the thunder outside provided a faint glow.
when you reached the desk you noticed the familiar silhouette of a lamp, you flicked it open.
Hanma remained at the doorstep. "what are you planning to do after this?" he questions you. "there's no doubt Quoia will chase you for awhile, you won't be safe in Tokyo."
"i know." you start opening the drawers. "i already prepared everything before this. i got myself a train ticket heading to Kawaguchi tonight, they'll never chase me that far off into the borders."
you hear his deep, rich chuckle. "so does that mean i won't see you anymore?"
"it's only temporary. they don't know you're with me, we'll meet up once in awhile but keep the contact as few and discreet as possible. we cannot have someone know that we two are acquaintances." you stop to briefly glance at him. "did you prepare an alibi like i told you too?"
Hanma looks at the clock idly. "9:37pm, around this time i'm smoking in the cemetery, visiting my old friend as per usual."
"have you truly secured that?" you hardened your eyes at him.
"don't worry it was easy to threaten the groundskeeper there, he won't even dare to tattle to the police even if his life depended on it. i also..." he pauses, fixes his posture to cross his arms. "i'll also be joining Kanto Manji Gang, when you leave."
Kanto Manji? you decided not question him about the gang, turning your attention back to the folders you've scavenged at the desk drawers.
"alright Hanma, you can leave and guard the living room now."
it wasn't long until you've found your uncle's laptop, frowning when you saw the laptop being password-protected.
ofcourse it is. you let out another breath, you tap your fingers at the surface of the desk, letting your heart follow the rhythm of the thunder and rain raging outside the window panes. Hanma is skilled in breaking into things like this, you had thought about calling him over until a memory flashes briefly across your skull.
your hands stop tapping, dragging over to the laptop keys as you type away the only password you think your uncle would've placed.
Mai.
your mother's name.
the laptop clicks open, pushing you towards the home screen. you closed your eyes once you saw the home screen picture: staring back at you was a beautiful young women that looked just like you, the picture was a selfie as she smiled brightly at the camera, one of her arm tossed over a little boy—your uncle.
you ignored the pang in your chest and headed straight towards his emails, you clicked on the latest one he had sent and your eyes rove over the message.
TO: M. S.
Makoto-sama, may i say my happy birthday greetings to your eldest daughter. as a token of my gratitude towards you and your child i had sent her a gift—
your eyes lands on the last sentences of the email.
—please tell Mars Makoto happy birthday!
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
the sound of police sirens send a permanent echo throughout the city's spine, even when you reached the train station you could just feel the noise deep within your chest, at this very moment they probably found your uncle's dead body, and your disappearance.
you rub your cold fingers, dropping your luggage bag on the ground as you awaited the next train towards Kawaguchi, the city borders—out of Tokyo.
"...you want me to go with you?" a murmur reverberates behind you.
you barely twist around, and Hanma wraps a scarf around your shoulders. shielding you slightly as a group of people walks by, talking about the news on their phones. when they left, you peer up and the look he gives you with those golden eyes of his are soft, achingly soft—it's the first time he gave you that look.
you shake your head, turning away, "i can manage from here. i best leave now, Hanma." he merely hums at your reply, taking a step back and watches you carry your bag.
"y/n." you stop and turn when you hear him call out to you.
he parts his lips, hesitates before he shakes his head. "..have a safe trip."
you frown at him, he looked like there was something he wanted to say to you. you resume your walk without saying anything back, your head still plunged into a jungle of mishaps.
there's so many uncertainties that awaits you, so many memories that you're leaving behind. for a moment—you remembered Kakucho, Izana and the rest of your friends. you wondered how they were doing: the last time you've heard of them was after Izana's death and the disband of Tenjiku. you didn't make an effort to contact them after that, too engrossed with the mourning, too engrossed with the revelation of your family. it's already been two years—
you bump into someone and you reeled back.
you snap your head at the figure that walked passed you, glaring at the mess of wild, blond curls that flow beneath the cold ether.
'atleast say sorry, asshole.' you click your tongue, watching as his figure disappeared at the direction you just came from.
Mikey's head is a jungle. he doesn't even know why he was outside, walking along the station without Kokonoi or Sanzu beside him. it was cold and dark but he needed to meet with someone, quenching the dark despair that crashed within his gut—he stops when his abysmal black eyes lands on the familiar figure in the distance,
"Hanma."
Hanma tilts his head, spotting the familiar blond-haired boy and his tired black eyes.
a mirthless smile casts over his face, "Mikey, didn't think you'd agree to meet me here in person."
"didn't think you still have the gull to come back to Tokyo. had fun being a wanted fugitive?"
Hanma doesn't show any signs of irritation, instead he licked his lips. "ah, been two years since i've seen you and you've turned out..." he stops. "you're different from the last time i've seen you."
"you're the one that called me here, what do you want?" Mikey deadpans,
Hanma leans at the balls of his feet, for a split second his eyes linger at the distance, where he watched your tiny figure disappear, remembering the anxiety and tears that painted your face. the burden you carried on your shoulders—Hanma knew he had to do this.
"...heard Toman sent a declaration of war towards Kanto Manji." Mikey raises a brow, allowing the taller man to continue. he's doing this for you. Hanma inhales, the police sirens still wails in distance of the empty station.
"the thrill of battle...why not let me join in the circus?" anything to get connections with gang life again and help you track down Quoia—he'd do anything for you.