Chapter Text
Haru gave an easy grin when Masa rapped on his door, opening it only a second later. The elderly maid once would have walked right in without even that, but had uncomfortably learned the ways of teenage boys after a few awkward encounters. Now she at least gave him a few seconds to compose himself before barging in.
"Hey, Masa," he greeted, sprawling back with his boots on his desk. "What's up?"
She gave him a dirty look. "Don't address me so informally, Hatsuharu-san. Lord Akito doesn't tolerate your modern ways, and neither will I. And take your shoes off when you're indoors!"
"Yes, Kaseifu," he sighed. He pulled his long legs back and set to unlacing his clunky black boots.
Masa Sohma watched him impassively as he set his boots in their cubby under his desk, then pulled something from her obi and handed it to him.
"Another postcard from your Kamakura penpal," she sniffed disdainfully. "I don't understand why he sends you postcards without writing anything on them."
"I told you." Haru took the postcard and tucked it under his arm, trying not to look interested or eager. "He's a first grader. They're still learning how to address mail. They'll learn how to write letters later. It's just a school thing."
He cocked his head to the side, pretending to look at a book on his desk. His hair fell over his ear.
Masa gasped. Her gnarled old hand flew to his cheek; brushed his white hair back. "What is this, Hatsuharu-san?!"
She was talking about his newest piercing; a long metal bar that speared through one side of his helix and out the other. His plan had worked: she was completely distracted from the mail.
"It's an industrial bar. It's fashionable."
"You and your fashion! This is just too much. Take it out!"
"I can't, Kaseifu. It's impossible to remove without help."
This was a lie, but Haru was good at lying to people who weren't Akito or Rin.
She planted her hands on her skinny hips, glowering, then pointed a finger at his chest. "You are not just yourself, Hatsuharu-san. You represent the Sohma household, and it's inexcusable to go around looking so... so worldly. Just wait until your mother hears about this!"
Haru fought back a snort. He could strip naked, paint himself green, and breakdance on the school roof, and still his mother wouldn't care. Case in point: he continued going to school and coming home every day, and had not seen her in several days. Surely most parents paid more attention to their children still attending middle school.
But he kept it to himself. No need to antagonize the old lady who served as Akito's personal maid.
To his great relief, a bell chimed from the main house. Muttering under her breath, Masa turned to address whatever new problem needed her attention.
Just before letting herself out of Haru's house, she stopped and turned back to address him. "Supper is at the main house at seven. You're expected to be there, clean and presentable."
Haru held back a groan. He didn't always have to eat with the family, but when he did, it was an unpleasant, stiff, and awkward experience. Still, he could see no way to wiggle out of a direct command. "Yes, Kaseifu."
She gave him a stiff, parting bow. He stood and returned the gesture, then sighed in relief when she stepped out and closed his door, walking up the cobblestone path towards where Akito lived.
Haru waited until her footsteps had faded before turning towards his closet. "Coast is clear."
The door slid open. Isuzu stepped out and sat on the end of his bed. She was looking grumpy; possibly because she'd have to have dinner alone, now. "What'd she bring?"
Haru pulled the postcard out from under his arm, turning it over. The postmark was addressed from the small town of Kamakura, but what the old-fashioned members of the Sohma household didn't know was that mail could be forwarded. Could be bounced around between several destinations. There was no telling where it had really come from. Or who.
The picture on the postcard was of a cute, pastel scene of Noah's arc from the western Bible. Animals lined up on the bow of a ship beneath a happy-faced rainbow.
Rin took the card from Haru's hand, tilting it under the lamplight. They both saw the same thing: a faint scratch down the length of the cat's body, extending all the way to the mouse sitting beside it.
Maybe it was just damage caused by the long journey through the postal system. More likely, it had been made by a young boy's fingernail.
Rin smiled ruefully. "I'm glad," she said.
Haru nodded. "Yeah..."
He didn't know where his cousins really were, but this small proof that they were still alive and well would have to suffice for now. Maybe someday they'd be able to meet again, if the world was ever a kinder place.
Rin picked up a pair of Haru's scissors and hacked the postcard into tiny pieces, then threw it in the trash basket. If anyone in the family suspected they knew something...
They wouldn't. After all, they were just kids. Helpless little things, subject to the whims of the adults surrounding them. Right?
Haru reached up, and Rin slipped her hand into his.
...
As it turned out, Hatori, Ayame, and Mine could cook an acceptable meal when properly motivated. Tonight, that motivation came in the form of Kureno Sohma.
They'd served grilled yellowtail steaks for dinner, with sides of miso, tsukemono, broccoli in sesame oil, and blocks of chilled tofu with pretty curls of ginger on top. Now they picked at the remains of a small sponge cake they'd been surprised to learn Kureno had baked himself.
Despite the delicious meal, the tension and awkwardness was palpable. Hatori had deliberately sat between Ayame and Mine, hoping Kureno wouldn't think it strange that the snake shared meals with his "assistant." God save them all if he glanced into Ayame's bedroom and pieced together that the two were living together. Sleeping together.
If the two artists were afraid of being found out, however, they showed no sign of it. Mine kept up a stream of conversation that left the rooster, so often confined to the compound, looking dazed. He surely wasn't used to so much outside company.
"-- And then do you remember what that customer said, boss?" Mine asked, concluding her outrageous story.
Ayame laughed heartily, tossing his mane of silky white hair over one shoulder. "How could I forget?! He asked if we would make a velour jumpsuit for the alpaca, too!"
Their combined grins were so bright that Kureno actually blinked, eyes strained. Hatori offered the younger man a sympathetic glance. Do you see what I put up with? He tried to convey.
Kureno gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. It looked more like a grimace.
"That has to be the strangest wedding we've attended yet," Ayame sighed wistfully. "It was fabulous."
He scooped up the final bite of his cake, strawberry and all, and made to pass it to Mine. To feed it to her directly, like the loving boyfriend he was.
Panicking, Hatori took it instead, chewing and swallowing. "Thank you, Ayame."
Ayame looked mollified. Kureno just looked more confused than ever.
Mine seized on this, leaning across the table, taking Kureno's arm. "I can't help but notice that you're very handsome!" She said brightly.
It was remarkable how quickly Kureno went red and cross-eyed. He looked like he wanted to run away as fast as his legs would carry him. "Um!"
"Oh, yes; you must be a Sohma, alright. That delicate face... That hair... It's the red of freshly fallen Autumn leaves! Boss, can't we make him something nice? Even just a simple robe... Indigo... Perhaps emerald... Oh, but he'd look simply edible in drag..."
She reached across the table to touch Kureno's hair. He scrambled back before their chests could brush. Before his curse would be revealed.
"Mine," Hatori chided gently. "Tonight isn't for work. Kureno wanted to talk to us about something important, didn't he?"
He had to admire Mine's tactics, blunt as they were. Kureno was looking so terrified, so caught off-guard, that it was a long moment before he gathered his thoughts again. "Um. Yes, r-right. Yes."
He cleared his throat and straightened up, though he did not sit as close to the table as he had before. Clearing his throat, he met Ayame's eyes. "I'll make this quick. Lord Akito has asked me to check up with you, regarding your brother."
Ayame's bemused expression did not fall. Mine's did. For just a second, her jaw clenched. Her eyes flashed cold hatred. It had been eight months since Yuki and Kyo's daring escape. Eight months since Ayame had been beaten black and blue.
Hatori doubted it mattered whether it was eight months, or eight hundred. Mine would never forgive the people responsible for hurting her lover.
Privately, Hatori was grateful. The fact that someone was there to notice, to care what happened to them inside the confines of the Sohma, was a breath of fresh air in a suffocating cage. A reminder that they were still people. That, to someone "real", they still mattered.
Someone should be angry about what happened to Ayame, even if they weren't allowed to be.
"What is there to say?" Ayame asked. "He ran away, and I haven't heard from him since. He could be anywhere. He could be dead. I wouldn't know."
Kureno held his eyes. "You truly have no idea where he might be?"
"No," said, happy to be truthful.
Kureno turned his gaze onto Mine. "And you? You don't know anything, either?"
"No," she replied, happy to be lying.
Silence lingered. Hatori could hear the low hum of electricity in Verne's tank, as her heater warmed up. He heard the ice cubes settle in the freezer. He felt Mine's leg press to his on one side, and Ayame's on the other. They both sought comfort, serenity, from the dragon.
He tried to give it to them, as best as possible. When Mine's hand brushed his underneath the table, he took it.
"Very well," Kureno said, apparently satisfied. "Then I won't keep you. I have a long drive home, so I'd best get started."
Ayame leapt to his feet, cheerfully assembling a box of leftovers for the protesting rooster to take back to the main house. ("Visit us any time, mon ami! Mine and I would so love to improve your drab wardrobe...")
Hatori simply sank back on the cushion he knelt on, both relieved and deflated. This performance, this stress, truly wore him out. Sapped his energy.
Mine gave his hand a pat, then let him go.
"Are you going to come home with me, Hatori-san?" Kureno asked him. "I'm sure Lord Akito will need your assistance soon."
Hatori bit his lip. He... He didn't want to leave. Ayame's overheated, humid apartment was the only place he felt like he could catch a breath. That he didn't have to hide, to lie, to fear.
It was an illusion, of course. There was no freedom to be found; not even here.
(Not for you, anyway. But for the children...)
Right. Yuki and Kyo. Their escape. Their freedom. The hope it brought; that one day, the other Sohmas might find the same.
If he kept them in mind, then he could be just a little stronger. He could hold out a little longer. "Yes," he told the younger man. "Do you want me to drive?"
Kureno nodded. They stood and gathered their things and made to leave.
Ayame caught Hatori's arm, pulling the taller man into an embrace. Hatori thought hugging would always feel unnatural; uncomfortable; but Ayame said he needed it. He said 'when' (not 'if') their curses broke, they needed to know how to do it properly.
Hatori wasn't sure about that, but it wasn't really a sacrifice to play along. To rub up and down Ayame's back, and hear him sigh happily. Hatori wouldn't have done it for anyone else, but for this man, he'd make an exception.
Mine stood on tiptoe, so Hatori ducked down, allowing her to kiss his cheek. He gave her a gentle smile; patted her on the shoulder.
When he turned to the door, he saw that Kureno was watching them with an odd look on his face. No doubt the amount of physical contact displayed made him nervous. Hatori made an effort not to brush against him as he stepped out and walked downstairs; outside, to the parking lot below.
"Mind if I smoke?" Hatori asked as they got into the sleek black Sohma car.
Kureno shook his head no, buckling his seatbelt. He still looked like such a boy. Barely twenty, he hadn't quite lost the baby fat, the freckles of his teen years. Hatori still remembered him as the wide-eyed tagalong cousin who admired the older boys so much.
When had Akito made him into this fearful, subservient creature?
The thought made Hatori feel glum. He quickly brushed it aside. Their family was nothing but tragedy; what was one more? If he allowed his heart to be moved by every little thing, he'd feel too heavy to get out of bed ever again.
"Hatori-san?" Kureno asked, voice small, as he backed the car from the parking space and drove to the freeway, leaving Ayame's shop behind.
"Mm?" Hatori ashed his cigarette into the car's ashtray. Adjusted the rearview mirror. Rested his forearm on the steering wheel.
"Do you... You think Kyo and Yuki are still alive, don't you?"
Hatori glanced at the younger man, surprised. Kureno sat stiffly in the passenger's seat, his hands on his knees, staring out the passenger window at the city night outside. He looked young. He looked worried.
"I do," Hatori answered. "Call it a gut instinct."
Kureno sighed. Swallowed. Nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, I'm... That's good. They're just kids, y'know."
Hmm. A small surprise, but a welcome one. Kureno was still a person, after all; not just Akito's puppet.
Hatori slung his free arm around the man's back, gently squeezing the back of his neck in a friendly way.
Kureno went very stiff, unused to physical contact, but made an effort to hold still. To accept it. After a few moments, he leaned back against Hatori.
Slowly, slowly, things were changing for all of them. Whatever their future held, Hatori suspected big changes were on the horizon. He planned to be ready to meet them when they came.
~ fin ~