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𝟐𝟒 || 𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 ||

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    It's not everyday Takemichi and his mother have a whole day all to themselves.

    His mom's been getting more clients, causing her to stay at work later than she normally would, and Takemichi is always out of the house with Keisuke and Mikey. They always see each other in the mornings, with his mother always waking him up with a soft kiss to his forehead, but—other than that—they never really had much time to hangout with each other.

    Takemichi knows it's not either of their faults; his mom had made a point to drill it into his head that if she could spend everyday with her son, then she'd do just that. She was just always busy and Takemichi was always off going on some crazy adventure.

    But today? They spent it together—watching movies on the sofa, cuddled up under some blankets Miss Baji gifted them.

    His mother had called in sick to work and they gave her a few days off. Takemichi would've followed his mother's lead if it wasn't for his friends' stubborn natures; if he were to tell them that he was sick, then they'd still somehow find a way to spend time with Takemichi (not that he's complaining or anything!).

    It was nice to have a day all to themselves, basking in eachother's embrace and chatting aimlessly about anything and everything. His mom talked about a kid that lives at the brothel—who she thought he could be really good friends with— and Takemichi rambled on and on about the adventures he was forced to go on with Mikey and Keisuke.

    Time flew by in the blink of an eye.

    One moment they were gathering popcorn and snacks—his mother laying down a selection of movies on the floor to choose from—then the sun began to set, making room for the moon as the Hanagaki's finished watching a western movie to practice his English: "Return of the Jedi".

    Amongst the cheers of victory radiating from the Television, a knock could be heard.

    The Hanagaki's share a look of disdain with each other, both of them knowing that their comforting night is about to come to an end thanks to one of the boy's friends.

    "You better go get that baby," his mom says while untangling their limbs from underneath their shared blanket. An annoyed huff of air escapes Takemichi before he can stop himself.

    "Why me?" He asks despite already getting up to see who could be bothering them so deep in the night.

    "Because Mama's legs aren't working. A client was a little too rough with mama and she needs a break..." she explains with a groan. Takemichi raises a brow, having no idea what his mother is talking about, before continuing his way towards the door. He doesn't know much about what his mom does for a living (apparently he's too young to understand?), but he knows it leaves her exhausted and sore at the end of the day.

    "You need a new job," Takemichi quips back as he approaches the door. "I don't think jobs are supposed to hurt you mama."

    The sound of his mother's chuckles fill the air around them. "Some are, sweetie, but you're too young to have to worry about such silly things..."

    Takemichi rolls his eyes while reaching out for the doorknob. He doesn't understand why his mother won't just explain things to him, regardless if he's too young or whatever. It's stupid in Takemichi's opinion. He's too tired to voice these thoughts though.

    Wanting nothing more than to get this over with and jump back onto the couch with his mother, he opens the door expecting to see a grinning Keisuke or a mischievous Mikey, but—

    "Haru?" He whispers in fright, his blue eyes widening at the disheveled state of his friend.

    The platinum blonde is covered in scrapes. The collar of his shirt is obviously stretched out by whoever he was fighting, and a bruise is blooming underneath his right eye, just above one of the patches that hide his diamond shaped scars. His green eyes, that are normally cold and speak of nothing but fierceness, are glistening with unshed tears. His lips tremble, bloody hands clenching the hem of his shirt, and—

    "Sup Takemichi," he greets as if this is just a normal day. His green eyes draw themselves to the floor, avoiding Takemichi's gaze as he mumbles out, "Can I—is it ok if I—"

    Haru doesn't get a chance to complete his sentence. Takemichi doesn't let him.

    Ignoring the questions his mother keeps shooting him from the living room, he grabs ahold of Haru's shirt—careful not to touch any bruises—and drags him into his apartment.

    The echo of the door shutting behind them will forever be ingrained in Takemichi's mind.

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If someone had told Katsumi that she'd be patching up one of Takemichi's friends after watching a Star Wars movie, she would've laughed and told them to sober the fuck up.

    But here she is.

    In her small cramped restroom, inspecting the many scratches on Haruchiyo Akashi.

    When she had first heard the knocking on the door, she assumed it was either Keisuke or Mikey. Not only was she surprised to see her son dragging in Takeomi's little brother, but the small boy was also covered head to toe with injuries. Takemichi—bless his soul—kept fretting over the small boy, guiding him deeper into their apartment with worry burning in his blue eyes.

    Katsumi ignored the pain in her legs and jumped off the couch—her heart twisting in her chest the longer she stared at the boy's injuries—took Haruchiyo away from her worry wart of a child, and ushered him into the restroom. The boy definitely protested the moment his eyes caught sight of the first aid kit, but Katsumi didn't care in the slightest.

    She wasn't gonna let some innocent child suffer from infected injuries or leave him to lick his own wounds.

    After dabbing the boy's scraped knees with cleaning alcohol and placing alien bandaids on the small cuts, she finally got the blonde boy to speak to her.

    "...does Takeomi know you're here?" She decides to ask. The blonde shakes his head no.

    "No...he doesn't really care where I'm at as long as I'm not dead."

    Katsumi's heart drops to her stomach. No nine year old kid should be saying that kind of shit!

    Grinding her teeth in frustration, Katsumi fights to keep the scowl off her face. "I'm still gonna call him so he knows you're safe. You'll be staying with us tonight, ok?" It isn't so much a question as it is a demand, but she wants the kid to know that he's in safe hands.

    "...you sure?" He whispers, his voice so uncertain, so soft and broken.

    (She desperately tried not to see the similarities between Haruchiyo and her own son at that moment. Both so fragile, injured and traumatized—yearning for help that no one is willing to give. Except her. She'll never be ever to fix her son, she knows that, and that's ok. But if she can make her son feel safe in her arms then—hopefully—she can get Haruchiyo to feel the same way. She doesn't mind extending her protection over to more kids, especially ones that make her son happy.)

    Katsumi looks up at the boy, her heart tightening in her chest, and observes the small boy sitting on the sink. There's so much hope in those green eyes that it physically hurts to look at.

    Her eyes are then drawn to the patches on the corners of his lips. She doesn't know what caused the injury, Takemichi refuses to tell her, nor does she know the extent of which he was injured. Is it permanent? What does it look like? Katsumi doesn't dare voice these questions out loud, but that doesn't stop the woman from thinking of them.

    Katsumi smiles as softly as she can at the boy and gets up from the dirty bathroom floor. "Of course. Any friend of my baby is welcome here," she states as firmly as she can.

    The boy nods rather stiffly (like a robot...) and turns his gaze to the band-aids on his knees.

    "...yoda band-aids?" He questions, his curious gaze practically burning through the band-aids. She doesn't miss the way his eyes sparkle at the small green alien printed on the bandages.

    Katsumi can't stop herself from chuckling at the boy's reaction. "Yep—Yoda band-aids," she confirms. "Takemichi has been really into Star Wars lately. Got a problem with them?"

    Haruchiyo immediately shakes his head no. "No, I—I like them," he mumbles under his breath, his cheeks turning an adorable pink color.

    Hm...well, if that's the case, then—

    "...Would you like to switch the bandages on your face for the yoda Band-aids?" She hesitantly asks, knowing damn well that she's venturing into dangerous territory. Scars can be a very sensitive topic for people, especially for kids.

    (For a split second, Katsumi's mind flashes to the dimly lit hospital Takemichi had to stay in before they moved to Shibuya. She remembered the bloody bandages wrapped around his upper arm, the stitches they had to place in the back of his head, and the faraway look in her baby boy's eyes as he asked, "Am I gonna be ok?")

    Haru's quiet voice snaps Katsumi out of her thoughts.

    "Sure..." he says quietly, his cheeks set aflamed and his lips pressed together to form a cute pout.

    Katsumi quickly gets to work. With careful hands, she reaches for the first aid kit, grabs the box of yoda band-aids, and picks out a few that are about the same size as the bandages on his face. Placing the bandaids next to Haruchiyo, she moves in close to the small boy, her eyes drawn to the bandages on the corners of his mouth.

    Making sure to be as gentle as possible, she moves her fingers to the boy's face and works on peeling the bandages off his skin. She makes sure her long nails don't dig into the boy's cheek as she picks the corner of the bandage. Then, when she finally has a firm hold on the corner, she slowly peels it off, revealing a diamond shaped scar.

    Katsumi doesn't want to cause the boy any discomfort, so she draws her eyes away from the scar and to the other bandage. She repeats the process, carefully peeling the other bandage off his skin, showing off an identical diamond shaped scar.

    They're perfectly symmetrical—like a planned piece of art.

    A surge of anger crawls up her spine, causing her to grow rigid the longer her mind wonders to the scars on the boy's face.

    Did someone deliberately injure this baby boy? Did they take their time hurting him? Making sure that the marks they leave behind would be perfect? Did they use a knife? Scissors? Their own hands—

    "Stop staring," Haruchiyo demands defensively, his hands suddenly coming up to cover his scars. "I know they're weird to look at, ok? So just...ignore them."

    Oh shit. She fucked up big time...

    Shame washes over the mother like a bucket of cold water. She didn't mean to stare—truly! She was just caught up in the moment, in her anger and rage for whoever did this.

    Katsumi heaves out a loud sigh and reaches for one of the band-aids. "They're not weird, Haruchiyo," she says quietly.

    "Stop lying..."

    Katsumi can't stop herself from narrowing her eyes at the small boy.

    "I never lie," she states firmly, watching with satisfaction as the boy's mouth snaps closed. Very gently, she grabs the boy's hand and pulls it away from his cheek, once more revealing a small diamond shaped scar. "Everyone bears their own scars; some are physical, some are mental," she explains softly.

    She catches the way Haruchiyo peers up at her, green eyes burning with curiosity. "Really?"

    Katsumi smiles whilst placing a yoda band-aid over the small scar. "Yep," she then reaches for the other band-aid. "We shouldn't be ashamed of our scars nor should we ignore them. They show that we survived, that we're strong and that nothing can stop us," she repeats her actions: softly putting the cute band-aid over the scar.

    Katsumi leans back to inspect her work. Two yoda band-aids now decorate the corners of Haruchiyo's lips making the boy look even more adorable. "Aaaand done! Now you can go join Takemichi in the living room."

    Before Katsumi has the chance to step back, Haruchiyo stops her with another question.

    "Do you have any scars?"

    She shouldn't have been so surprised by the question. Kids are curious little creatures and—after what Haruchiyo's been through—he needs some reassurance that scars are ok; That there's nothing wrong with having them.

    With a trembling breath, Katsumi focuses back on the small boy.

    "Sure do—I got a handful of them too," she answers a little too quickly.

    "What about Takemichi? Does he have any?"

    Katsumi bites her lip, unsure if she should give into the injured boy's curiosity. His eyes twinkle up at her with fascination and hope, small fingers latched together in a tight grip.

    Her resolve breaks faster than she would like to admit at the adorable face in front of her.

    "Yes...he does as well. They're well hidden though," she admits, observing the small 'oh' that takes form on Haruchiyo's lips. She couldn't blame the poor kid for being curious—if she were in his place, she'd probably be asking the same questions.

    "So—so he's like me?"

    Katsumi tilts her head and smiles down at the boy. Hold out her hand, she waits for the kid to take it. He observes her hand with the Same amount of curiosity as when he asked about scars. Haruchiyo carefully places his hand on top of hers and lets himself be guided off the sink.

    Once Haruchiyo is back on the ground, she squeezes the boy's hand reassuringly.

    "In a way—yes; He's just like you, Haruchiyo."

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Both Takemichi and Haruchiyo left the living room to hide in Takemichi's small room, away from his mother who's shouting rather angrily over the phone.

    They knew they needed to leave the moment they heard the name Takeomi leave his mom's lips. She said it with so much venom and spite; there was no doubt in Takemichi's mind that if Words could kill, then Takeomi would be dead from the dangerous toxins spilling from her deadly lips.

    "Why is she so mad at your brother?" Takemichi decides to ask once they make it into his room. Haruchiyo just shrugs his shoulders, refusing to make eye contact.

    "I dunno," he says while inspecting the room around him. "And I don't really care. Takeomi has been nothing but a bitch to me these past few weeks..."

    Takemichi raises his eyebrows, shocked by this new information. "What do you mean?" He questions—leading Haru to his small bed. Haru takes the hint and carefully plops himself down on the bed, his face wincing a little bit due to his injuries. Takemichi settles down next to him until they are shoulder to shoulder.

    Haru doesn't seem bothered by the close proximity in the slightest. In fact, he appears to lean into the boy's shoulder, but that might just be Takemichi's imagination.

    "He—" Haru takes a second to heave out a loud sigh before continuing. "It's like—I dunno—he's treating me like some...wild animal. Like he doesn't know what to do with me," he spits out, his face contorting into a look of frustration. "He looks at me like I'm crazy, Takemichi, and I can't stand it!"

    "I'm—I'm really sorry, Haru..." Takemichi mumbles out, unsure of what to say or do at the moment. Last time he tried comforting the blonde he took Takemichi's words a whole other way—creating a drift between him and Senju.

    He doesn't want to say the wrong thing.

    He doesn't want to be the reason behind another accident.

    With a tight throat and shaky hands, Takemichi reaches over to pull the boy into a hug.

    He makes sure not to push on any of the bruises littering his skin when he reels him in. Haru flinches—probably not having expected a hug—but he gradually returns it. Bandaged arms reach up to wrap around Takemichi's torso and he places his face on top of the boy's shoulder, hiding his expressions. He breathes in the injured boy's scent; sweat, blood, and dirt reach his nose, but—beneath it all—he catches a whiff of peppermint shampoo.

    "I'm really really sorry Haru..."

    Haru's grip around Takemichi tightens.

    "It's not your fault Takemichi. None of this is," he whispers into Takemichi's ear, most likely sensing the guilt manifesting its way into his mind. The boy purses his lips, unsure of how to respond, but Haru keeps talking.

    "And I just—I want to feel safe..."

    Takemichi can feel tears building up in his eyes.

    He tightens his hold Haruchiyo and brings him closer and closer till their nearly on top of eachother.

     "You are safe! You'll always be safe with me Haru!" He proclaims, knowing damn well that what he's saying is cheesy, but he doesn't care. It's the truth.

    He'll make it the truth.

    "You're always welcome here Haru, I swear! I won't leave you, I won't hurt you, I won't betray you—"

    A shaky laugh interrupts Takemichi's speech.

    "I-I know, Takemichi. That's why I um...that's why I came here," he explains softly.

    Then he breaks the embrace.

    For a moment, all Takemichi can feel is the cold air hitting his skin when Haru leans back. The boy leans forward, attempting to chase after the warmth, but he stops himself the second he catches Haru's eyes.

    They're glistening with tears.

    "You...make me feel safe. I like it...I really really like it," his words cause Takemichi's throat to tighten up. He doesn't trust his own voice; he's scared that if he does manage to speak, his words will come out horse, scratchy and tight with emotion.

    Takemichi settles with tightening his embrace, communicating as best he can that he's grateful.

    Grateful for the life he now has.

    Grateful for the lovely memories he's made with all his friends.

    Grateful for the friends he made.

    And, most importantly, grateful for becoming someone people can come to in times of need.

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Katsumi lost track of time.

    She doesn't know how long she was insulting that absolute bastard for practically abandoning his little brother—an injured kid who's not even ten years old. Her knuckles hurt from how tight she was gripping the phone which she should've expected. Katsumi's been told that she can be a little too...expressive with her body when she's angry.