"Crossing the Rubicon" (NANA, various, K+/T)
Title: "Crossing the Rubicon"
Author: yukari_rin
Fandom: NANA
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Nana, Hachi, Satsuki, little Ren; slight NanaHachi, barely there TakuHachi
Rating: K+ or T, depending on your viewpoint, I suppose.
Word Count: 2,349
Notes: Written for pinku13 as part of blackstones' Secret Santa gift exchange. Happy (belated) Christmas, and best wishes to you for a wonderful new year, pinku13! I hope you enjoy your gift. Dialogue written in italics denotes when the speaker is speaking in English.
Disclaimer: NANA and related properties belong to Yazawa Ai and related parties.
When the taxi pulls up in front of the apartment building Nana pays and slides out of back seat, eyes staring up at the building that looks unchanged after so many years. She hears the trunk pop open but is busy scanning the windows, trying to remember exactly which ones belong to 707 and is pulled from her reverie as the driver gently settle her suitcase on the sidewalk beside her. She nods her head in thanks to the man tipping his hat before returning to his cab and driving back into the city. With one last look up to the seventh floor she grips the suitcase's handle and takes a deep breath.
She didn't fly halfway around the world to run away now.
Everything about the interior of the building is exactly as she remembered it. Maybe the walls have been repainted, but as she marches up the steps the years away from Japan melt away. Years ago a vow was made never to put 707 back on the market, but now that she's only a few minutes away from its door, fear begins gnawing at her. So many other vows had been broken seven years ago, why should this particular one be any different?
She stops on the last step and fumbles in her pocket for her key. Nana tries to reason with the unease gripping her tightly. “If the key doesn't work,” she whispers aloud, “then Hachiko's moved on. If it works, well...” The metal sinks against her palm, pressing on the bones of her hand. “We'll just see what happens.”
The key does work. Her breath catches in her throat as the lock clicks open. Her knuckles are white around the knob; the door opens smoothly; and it's as if she's stepped back in time.
Her eyes well with tears and she begins to chide herself, but stops. “No. No. It's okay. It's normal, right?” There is no one to answer her, so she laughs hoarsely. It's a good thing Hachiko isn't here right now, Nana doesn't want her first sight of her friend ('Can she still be called that? Do I still have that right?' she wonders) to be marred by crying.
She takes another deep breath and begins exploring the apartment. The table and benches are still there, there's tableware in the upper cabinets and cleaning products below the sink. The drawers have kitchen towels and utensils neatly organized, just as they were in the past. There's not a mite of dust anywhere, but the space is so spotless she wonders if Hachiko stops by - when, how often, for how long, for what.
But time will answer those questions she tells the fear that lingers in the pit of her stomach.
Her room is generally how she left it, a bittersweet realization. In the back of her mind she wonders what has happened to Ren's warehouse, their apartment, in the time she's been gone. A finger of anxiety dips itself in her fear and she closes her eyes, counting to ten in English. The episode passes and she opens her eyes. Her hand is sweaty on her suitcase's handle and the apartment is a little stuffy, so she shoves her luggage in the closet and heads for the bathroom.
The water rushes out of the faucet as she fills the bathtub. She strips out of her clothes and drops them on the floor. A bottle labeled “bubble bath” in frilly script catches her eye and she scoops in the suggest amount. The shampoo she liked and even the body wash is tucked in a basket. She trails her fingers over the bottle, marveling at the way Hachiko was certain her erstwhile roommate would return.
Ren trudges up the stairs several steps behind his sister who is an equal distance from their mother. He pauses at the window and watches the sun shine on the river. The guitar case digs into his shoulder blade as he watches the golden flecks move along, but not together with, the water. Suddenly there's his sister's hand in his and he turns to look into her face, so like their father's.
“Big brother?” she asks, her thin brows drawing together somewhat.
He lifts a hand and pokes the furrow between her brows. “It's nothing,” he tells her in English. She sucks in her bottom lip and he sighs. “Don't worry about it,” he switches to Japanese. He pulls their connected hands apart and continues up the stairs. Their mother has reached the seventh floor landing and after making sure they're following, heads towards apartment 707.
“Mama, mama!” Satsuki bounds up past him, “Later can we go get ice cream?”
Hachi offers her daughter a weary smile, used to responding to this question. She twists the key in the door lock and turns the handle. Satsuki twirls, her pigtails floating in a circle at the motion, entering the familiar space backwards, pouting at her mother. “Please?” the request is dragged out.
“Maybe after supper, if you've been a good girl.”
The answer is different from what she normally offers, and so Satsuki's face lights up. Ren enters the apartment as if it's the last place on earth he wants to be and Hachi swallows back the comment she feels forming in her heart. She closes the door and locks it.
Her daughter settles in at the table, opening up her satchel and pulling out a coloring book and crayons. Ren heads to Nana's old bedroom, leaving the door open. He sits on the bed, opening his guitar case, ready to tune out the world. There's a tightening in her chest, but she takes a deep breath and makes her way to the kitchen counter to prepare their lunch. Satsuki sings a song to herself quietly, while in the other room Ren plucks away on his guitar, too quiet to be heard.
As she prepares their food, Hachi checks on him now and then, a simple glance that always lingers. The boy worries her. He's too capable at such a young age, and she can only blame herself for a good amount of the weight he carries on his small shoulders. She's tried so many times to connect with him, but there is only so much anyone, let alone a parent, can take of deprecating stares from a seven year-old. So she walks on eggshells with him, lets Takumi take the lead in raising him. But there are times she wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and cry, 'I love you! Can't you see that?'
But she knows that love can only fix and heal so much.
She finishes making their lunch and washes her hands. She towels them dry as she walks to the door to Nana's room. “Ren?” she calls. He raises his head, but doesn't look her way. “Lunch is ready.” She thinks he's going to ignore her, but after a moment he takes the pencil from behind his ear and makes a few notes on the paper next to him. Then he slips off the bed and rests his guitar back in its case. She moves and calls Satsuki over to wash her hands as Ren heads for the bathroom.
Nana's startled awake from her nap as the bathroom door shuts with a certain finality. She lifts her head from the edge of the tub and takes in the surprised boy who is frozen in the motion of unzipping his jeans to use the toilet. He's a miniature punk; spiked hair, ripped jeans, Doc Martins boots. The resemblance to his mother is uncanny. She shifts in the lukewarm water and the sloshing water brings him back to reality. He quickly does up his pants and hurries out of the room, slamming the door.
Nana winces at the loudness and opens the drain with one of her feet. The water drains and she stands, steadying herself with a hand on the tub's rim.
Hachi and Satsuki spin around at the commotion to see Ren leaning against the door, eyes wide.
“Ren? What's wrong?” his mother asks, drying his sister's hands.
“There... there's someone in there,” he says, processing his thoughts as he speaks.
In an instant Hachi is beside him, pulling him free from the door. He doesn't try to argue, just moves and positions himself to see how his mother will handle the situation.
Nana's just tucking the corner of the towel in when Hachi swings the door open. Both women stand there; Hachi as if she's trying to believe what she's seeing, Nana uncertain what to say. The one who breaks their silence first is Hachi, with a loud gasp. Tears are in her eyes. “Nana?” she asks, still disbelieving.
“It's been a long time, Hachiko.”
And then Hachi is flying across the floor, throwing her arms around Nana's neck. Nana stumbles against Hachi's welcome, wrapping her own arms hesitantly around the other woman. Sobs are wracking Hachi's body, and Nana can't hold back the laughter she feels dancing up her throat. What a sight they must be. She pats Hachi's head and strokes her hair. “There, there,” she murmurs through her mirth.
The boy is watching them, confusion and a trace of concern painted across his features. A little girl join him, peeking out from behind him. There's no mistaking who her father is, and the knot in Nana's chest constricts momentarily. She stops laughing but continues rubbing Hachi's back as she studies the youngsters while being studied by them. This continues for several minutes during which Hachi has said nothing but Nana's name and Nana finally pulls Hachi away from her. “Oi, you're scaring your kids,” she scolds. Nana sniffles in reply. “Hey, come on now.”
Hachi lifts her head and offers what would be a nice smile if her face wasn't red and blotchy from crying and her nose wasn't running. She reaches for the roll of toilet paper and breaks off a few sheets to dab under her eyes and wipe her nose. “You're back,” she half questions, half asks.
Nana chuckles. “Mhmm,” she nods.
“For good?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Nana!” Hachi sighs, throwing her arms around her friend once more.
“Hey! Ha-hachiko!” But Nana's laughing again. “You haven't changed at all, have you?”
The little girl steps out from behind her brother and visibly prepares herself to speak. “Mama, I'm hungry.”
“And I've got to get dressed,” Nana teases.
“Okay,” Hachi mumbles, trying to compose herself.
“Alone!” Nana chucks her fist gently against Hachi's chin. “Go take care of your kids, I'll be right out.” Hachi untangles herself from her friend but doesn't move. Nana leans in and presses a kiss against the shorter woman's temple. “Don't worry. I'm not going to disappear.”
Hachi's eyes are still gleaming with tears, but she takes a deep breath and offers another smile. “I'll set out a serving for you, too.”
Five minutes later Nana steps out of the bathroom and nervously walks over to the table. The kids are sitting next to each other on the far side, they look up hesitantly as she slides in beside their mother. “Thanks for the food,” she offers quietly and lifts the chopsticks.
The boy is watching her again. “Who are you?” he asks brusquely.
“Ren!” Hachi warns, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the stranger.
“Well?” he asks again.
“So, you're Ren, huh?” Nana places her chopsticks down and unconsciously folds her arms on the tabletop so that her hand touches the tattoo on her arm. “You certainly have grown up.”
Hachi tenses and the little girl draws her brows together. Despite her father's features and coloring, the girl wears her mother's expressions like a clone. Ren's surprise at her own use of English makes her smile. Which makes him scowl.
“I don't know you,” he returns after a moment.
“Ren, Satsuki, this is-” Hachi starts
“Honjo Nana,” Nana replies, gripping the tumbler of water.
Satsuki greets her polietly, but it's clear that Ren recognizes her name. “Honjo... as in...”
“As in the man you're named after,” Hachi confirms, busying herself over her food.
“I only saw you once, soon after you were born,” Nana elaborates once she's gathered her wits about her. “You've got a lot to live up to, being named after him and having the father you do.”
Hachi sucks in a breath at the latter comment and Nana could kick herself for saying it. If Ren notices both women's reactions, though, he refrains from commenting on them. He lifts his chin and puffs out his chest. It'd be comical if he wasn't so serious-looking. “I play guitar.”
“Oh?” Nana smiles, telling herself to keep breathing. “You any good?”
They lock eyes briefly, and Nana can see the fire in his eyes. He shoves himself off of the bench and heads into her room. He comes back with a guitar hanging from his shoulder, holding the neck steady as he pulls over a chair. He sits and brings his hands to the strings. “Any requests?” There's a challenge in his voice.
“Something original,” she suggests, sitting back.
He doesn't move, and she raises a brow questioningly at him. Then his lips curl upwards on the right side of his mouth and he repositions his fingers on the fretboard.
He plays.
He plays and he plays and he plays.
Satsuki bops along as she eats and Hachi slowly stops eating. But Nana watches the seven year-old play, not moving, hardly breathing. She doesn't realize she's crying until Hachi offers her her handkerchief.
Ren stops and looks up from his hands as if he's seeking her confirmation or approval.
“Not bad,” she tells him. “Not bad at all.”
Author: yukari_rin
Fandom: NANA
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Nana, Hachi, Satsuki, little Ren; slight NanaHachi, barely there TakuHachi
Rating: K+ or T, depending on your viewpoint, I suppose.
Word Count: 2,349
Notes: Written for pinku13 as part of blackstones' Secret Santa gift exchange. Happy (belated) Christmas, and best wishes to you for a wonderful new year, pinku13! I hope you enjoy your gift. Dialogue written in italics denotes when the speaker is speaking in English.
Disclaimer: NANA and related properties belong to Yazawa Ai and related parties.
When the taxi pulls up in front of the apartment building Nana pays and slides out of back seat, eyes staring up at the building that looks unchanged after so many years. She hears the trunk pop open but is busy scanning the windows, trying to remember exactly which ones belong to 707 and is pulled from her reverie as the driver gently settle her suitcase on the sidewalk beside her. She nods her head in thanks to the man tipping his hat before returning to his cab and driving back into the city. With one last look up to the seventh floor she grips the suitcase's handle and takes a deep breath.
She didn't fly halfway around the world to run away now.
Everything about the interior of the building is exactly as she remembered it. Maybe the walls have been repainted, but as she marches up the steps the years away from Japan melt away. Years ago a vow was made never to put 707 back on the market, but now that she's only a few minutes away from its door, fear begins gnawing at her. So many other vows had been broken seven years ago, why should this particular one be any different?
She stops on the last step and fumbles in her pocket for her key. Nana tries to reason with the unease gripping her tightly. “If the key doesn't work,” she whispers aloud, “then Hachiko's moved on. If it works, well...” The metal sinks against her palm, pressing on the bones of her hand. “We'll just see what happens.”
The key does work. Her breath catches in her throat as the lock clicks open. Her knuckles are white around the knob; the door opens smoothly; and it's as if she's stepped back in time.
Her eyes well with tears and she begins to chide herself, but stops. “No. No. It's okay. It's normal, right?” There is no one to answer her, so she laughs hoarsely. It's a good thing Hachiko isn't here right now, Nana doesn't want her first sight of her friend ('Can she still be called that? Do I still have that right?' she wonders) to be marred by crying.
She takes another deep breath and begins exploring the apartment. The table and benches are still there, there's tableware in the upper cabinets and cleaning products below the sink. The drawers have kitchen towels and utensils neatly organized, just as they were in the past. There's not a mite of dust anywhere, but the space is so spotless she wonders if Hachiko stops by - when, how often, for how long, for what.
But time will answer those questions she tells the fear that lingers in the pit of her stomach.
Her room is generally how she left it, a bittersweet realization. In the back of her mind she wonders what has happened to Ren's warehouse, their apartment, in the time she's been gone. A finger of anxiety dips itself in her fear and she closes her eyes, counting to ten in English. The episode passes and she opens her eyes. Her hand is sweaty on her suitcase's handle and the apartment is a little stuffy, so she shoves her luggage in the closet and heads for the bathroom.
The water rushes out of the faucet as she fills the bathtub. She strips out of her clothes and drops them on the floor. A bottle labeled “bubble bath” in frilly script catches her eye and she scoops in the suggest amount. The shampoo she liked and even the body wash is tucked in a basket. She trails her fingers over the bottle, marveling at the way Hachiko was certain her erstwhile roommate would return.
Ren trudges up the stairs several steps behind his sister who is an equal distance from their mother. He pauses at the window and watches the sun shine on the river. The guitar case digs into his shoulder blade as he watches the golden flecks move along, but not together with, the water. Suddenly there's his sister's hand in his and he turns to look into her face, so like their father's.
“Big brother?” she asks, her thin brows drawing together somewhat.
He lifts a hand and pokes the furrow between her brows. “It's nothing,” he tells her in English. She sucks in her bottom lip and he sighs. “Don't worry about it,” he switches to Japanese. He pulls their connected hands apart and continues up the stairs. Their mother has reached the seventh floor landing and after making sure they're following, heads towards apartment 707.
“Mama, mama!” Satsuki bounds up past him, “Later can we go get ice cream?”
Hachi offers her daughter a weary smile, used to responding to this question. She twists the key in the door lock and turns the handle. Satsuki twirls, her pigtails floating in a circle at the motion, entering the familiar space backwards, pouting at her mother. “Please?” the request is dragged out.
“Maybe after supper, if you've been a good girl.”
The answer is different from what she normally offers, and so Satsuki's face lights up. Ren enters the apartment as if it's the last place on earth he wants to be and Hachi swallows back the comment she feels forming in her heart. She closes the door and locks it.
Her daughter settles in at the table, opening up her satchel and pulling out a coloring book and crayons. Ren heads to Nana's old bedroom, leaving the door open. He sits on the bed, opening his guitar case, ready to tune out the world. There's a tightening in her chest, but she takes a deep breath and makes her way to the kitchen counter to prepare their lunch. Satsuki sings a song to herself quietly, while in the other room Ren plucks away on his guitar, too quiet to be heard.
As she prepares their food, Hachi checks on him now and then, a simple glance that always lingers. The boy worries her. He's too capable at such a young age, and she can only blame herself for a good amount of the weight he carries on his small shoulders. She's tried so many times to connect with him, but there is only so much anyone, let alone a parent, can take of deprecating stares from a seven year-old. So she walks on eggshells with him, lets Takumi take the lead in raising him. But there are times she wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and cry, 'I love you! Can't you see that?'
But she knows that love can only fix and heal so much.
She finishes making their lunch and washes her hands. She towels them dry as she walks to the door to Nana's room. “Ren?” she calls. He raises his head, but doesn't look her way. “Lunch is ready.” She thinks he's going to ignore her, but after a moment he takes the pencil from behind his ear and makes a few notes on the paper next to him. Then he slips off the bed and rests his guitar back in its case. She moves and calls Satsuki over to wash her hands as Ren heads for the bathroom.
Nana's startled awake from her nap as the bathroom door shuts with a certain finality. She lifts her head from the edge of the tub and takes in the surprised boy who is frozen in the motion of unzipping his jeans to use the toilet. He's a miniature punk; spiked hair, ripped jeans, Doc Martins boots. The resemblance to his mother is uncanny. She shifts in the lukewarm water and the sloshing water brings him back to reality. He quickly does up his pants and hurries out of the room, slamming the door.
Nana winces at the loudness and opens the drain with one of her feet. The water drains and she stands, steadying herself with a hand on the tub's rim.
Hachi and Satsuki spin around at the commotion to see Ren leaning against the door, eyes wide.
“Ren? What's wrong?” his mother asks, drying his sister's hands.
“There... there's someone in there,” he says, processing his thoughts as he speaks.
In an instant Hachi is beside him, pulling him free from the door. He doesn't try to argue, just moves and positions himself to see how his mother will handle the situation.
Nana's just tucking the corner of the towel in when Hachi swings the door open. Both women stand there; Hachi as if she's trying to believe what she's seeing, Nana uncertain what to say. The one who breaks their silence first is Hachi, with a loud gasp. Tears are in her eyes. “Nana?” she asks, still disbelieving.
“It's been a long time, Hachiko.”
And then Hachi is flying across the floor, throwing her arms around Nana's neck. Nana stumbles against Hachi's welcome, wrapping her own arms hesitantly around the other woman. Sobs are wracking Hachi's body, and Nana can't hold back the laughter she feels dancing up her throat. What a sight they must be. She pats Hachi's head and strokes her hair. “There, there,” she murmurs through her mirth.
The boy is watching them, confusion and a trace of concern painted across his features. A little girl join him, peeking out from behind him. There's no mistaking who her father is, and the knot in Nana's chest constricts momentarily. She stops laughing but continues rubbing Hachi's back as she studies the youngsters while being studied by them. This continues for several minutes during which Hachi has said nothing but Nana's name and Nana finally pulls Hachi away from her. “Oi, you're scaring your kids,” she scolds. Nana sniffles in reply. “Hey, come on now.”
Hachi lifts her head and offers what would be a nice smile if her face wasn't red and blotchy from crying and her nose wasn't running. She reaches for the roll of toilet paper and breaks off a few sheets to dab under her eyes and wipe her nose. “You're back,” she half questions, half asks.
Nana chuckles. “Mhmm,” she nods.
“For good?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Nana!” Hachi sighs, throwing her arms around her friend once more.
“Hey! Ha-hachiko!” But Nana's laughing again. “You haven't changed at all, have you?”
The little girl steps out from behind her brother and visibly prepares herself to speak. “Mama, I'm hungry.”
“And I've got to get dressed,” Nana teases.
“Okay,” Hachi mumbles, trying to compose herself.
“Alone!” Nana chucks her fist gently against Hachi's chin. “Go take care of your kids, I'll be right out.” Hachi untangles herself from her friend but doesn't move. Nana leans in and presses a kiss against the shorter woman's temple. “Don't worry. I'm not going to disappear.”
Hachi's eyes are still gleaming with tears, but she takes a deep breath and offers another smile. “I'll set out a serving for you, too.”
Five minutes later Nana steps out of the bathroom and nervously walks over to the table. The kids are sitting next to each other on the far side, they look up hesitantly as she slides in beside their mother. “Thanks for the food,” she offers quietly and lifts the chopsticks.
The boy is watching her again. “Who are you?” he asks brusquely.
“Ren!” Hachi warns, but he doesn't take his eyes off of the stranger.
“Well?” he asks again.
“So, you're Ren, huh?” Nana places her chopsticks down and unconsciously folds her arms on the tabletop so that her hand touches the tattoo on her arm. “You certainly have grown up.”
Hachi tenses and the little girl draws her brows together. Despite her father's features and coloring, the girl wears her mother's expressions like a clone. Ren's surprise at her own use of English makes her smile. Which makes him scowl.
“I don't know you,” he returns after a moment.
“Ren, Satsuki, this is-” Hachi starts
“Honjo Nana,” Nana replies, gripping the tumbler of water.
Satsuki greets her polietly, but it's clear that Ren recognizes her name. “Honjo... as in...”
“As in the man you're named after,” Hachi confirms, busying herself over her food.
“I only saw you once, soon after you were born,” Nana elaborates once she's gathered her wits about her. “You've got a lot to live up to, being named after him and having the father you do.”
Hachi sucks in a breath at the latter comment and Nana could kick herself for saying it. If Ren notices both women's reactions, though, he refrains from commenting on them. He lifts his chin and puffs out his chest. It'd be comical if he wasn't so serious-looking. “I play guitar.”
“Oh?” Nana smiles, telling herself to keep breathing. “You any good?”
They lock eyes briefly, and Nana can see the fire in his eyes. He shoves himself off of the bench and heads into her room. He comes back with a guitar hanging from his shoulder, holding the neck steady as he pulls over a chair. He sits and brings his hands to the strings. “Any requests?” There's a challenge in his voice.
“Something original,” she suggests, sitting back.
He doesn't move, and she raises a brow questioningly at him. Then his lips curl upwards on the right side of his mouth and he repositions his fingers on the fretboard.
He plays.
He plays and he plays and he plays.
Satsuki bops along as she eats and Hachi slowly stops eating. But Nana watches the seven year-old play, not moving, hardly breathing. She doesn't realize she's crying until Hachi offers her her handkerchief.
Ren stops and looks up from his hands as if he's seeking her confirmation or approval.
“Not bad,” she tells him. “Not bad at all.”