hakurenshi: (Default)

Prompt: in fuga
Missione: M1
Parole: 735
Warning: phantom thief!au




Sente i polmoni bruciare, e così anche i muscoli delle gambe, ma cerca di ignorarli e continuare a correre senza staccare gli occhi dall’uomo a pochi metri da lui; la frustrazione per non riuscire a coprire quella distanza è, forse, l’unica cosa che permette a Tomoya - che oltre alla mediocrità si riconosce poco, ma in cui molto vedono qualità tra le quali, però, non c’è uno spiccato talento per lo sport - di non stramazzare al suolo cercando di riprendere fiato.
Una fitta alla milza sembra volergli far presente a tutti i costi che quella è una partita persa in partenza, ma cerca di ignorarla; assottiglia lo sguardo, nella speranza che lo aiuti a focalizzarsi sulle cose giuste, e continua a mettere un passo dopo l’altro esattamente come sta facendo il ladro davanti a lui. Il Phantom Thief, come i giornali ci hanno tenuto a definirlo dalla prima volta in cui hanno scritto di lui, aumentando così la sensazione di aria pura che scivola inafferrabile tra le sue dita. Tomoya è stato affidato a questo caso mesi fa, eppure si ritrova di nuovo a tanto così dal perdere terreno in maniera definitiva, a concedergli l’ennesima fuga di cui ha perso il conto perché tenerlo gli ricordava i fallimenti.
Il ladro si volta a guardarlo da sopra la spalla, e Tomoya è sicuro di intravedere un sorriso divertito sulle sue labbra. Deve essere divertente vedere qualcuno affannarsi dietro di sé ogni volta e, nonostante l’impegno, fallire. La cosa gli fa rabbia non solo perché frustrante, ma perché il ladro ha ben deciso - dopo il primo inseguimento andato a vuoto - di prendersi la briga di mandargli un messaggio di avviso sul prossimo colpo, e quello dopo, e quello dopo ancora.
Così l’ufficio ormai aspetta che Tomoya venga contattato, e quando avviene lo guardano in un misto di sentimenti su cui il detective non ha mai voluto indagare - sa che alcuni lo considerano un inetto, che altri sono convinti saprebbero fare un lavoro migliore al suo posto. Per inciso, ci crede anche lui.
Perdersi nei pensieri negativi, però, è un lusso che adesso non si può concedere: il ladro lo guarda, sembra quasi rallentare di proposito. Tomoya incespica ma in qualche modo riesce a non perdere più di un passo e, soprattutto, a non cadere rovinosamente. Tiene gli occhi sul ladro, spinge ancora più verso lo sforzo i suoi muscoli e corre, gli va dietro, gira un angolo con lui e lo trova ancora lì sebbene si aspettasse di vederlo scomparire. Non sarebbe la prima volta che lo frega così.
«Sei incredibile, detective!» esclama quello - con quale fiato riesce pure a parlare?! - lasciandosi andare a una risata alta, quasi sguaiata che Tomoya è troppo sorpreso di sentire per qualsiasi altra reazione.
«Fermati!» gli intima, sentendo le gambe che ormai sono prossime a cedere, ha imparato a riconoscere quel momento. Il ladro ovviamente non lo ascolta (non che ci sperasse davvero), continua a correre ma di tanto in tanto lo guarda da sopra la spalla, quasi si volesse assicurare di essere ancora inseguito.
«Corri, corri!» lo esorta pure, nemmeno fosse uno spettatore esterno la cui unica preoccupazione è tifare per lui «Non è meraviglioso? Continui a inseguirmi, non ti arrendi mai e la luna ci è testimone!»
«Se è... così meraviglioso… allora fermati…!»
Quella frase, da sola, gli costa un’altra fitta di dolore alla milza. E poi bam, il ladro si ferma.
E’ assurdo vederlo voltarsi in sua direzione e allargare le braccia, quasi volesse accoglierlo e fossero amici che non si vedono da troppo tempo. Tomoya si ritrova a frenare un po’ la corsa, giusto per non finirgli addosso, eppure finisce con l’urtarlo lo stesso. Per un brevissimo momento è tra le braccia di un ladro che finora è riuscito soltanto a sfiorare, sente le sue mani stringergli appena le spalle, il suo viso chinarsi e farsi vicino al suo orecchio.
«Non mi posso ancora fermare.» gli rivela con un tono di voce diverso dal solito folle divertimento che sembra animarlo ogni volta che gli sfugge «E tu devi continuare a inseguirmi, okay?» aggiunge, enigmatico. Tomoya alza lo sguardo, allunga le mani per ammanettarlo e bam, il fumo lo acceca e lo fa tossire.
Quando riapre gli occhi e riesce a mettere a fuoco cosa lo circonda, il ladro è sparito di nuovo.
Addosso ha solo la sensazione dell’ombra di un abbraccio.

hakurenshi: (Default)
 

Prompt: Fantasy
Missione: M1 (week 2)
Parole: 4951


 

I

Beyond the door, your footsteps echoes, the premonition begins


People’s voices come through the window that faces the main street; Makoto is too sleepy to understand what they are saying,  but he can hear the anticipation in childish laughters. The city he is grown up in is a small one: sure, they have their little festival and activities they enjoy – also, Trickstar is a place you have to visit in order to reach the capital, unless you want to go through the side path, one that some merchants can’t avoid because of their business and that they hate because of the bandits. But, sure enough, nothing important ever happens there: no aristocrats who come to visit, no heroes who stop during their journeys. And today is not a festival day.

The door of his room is slammed before he can even try to find some motivation to wake up and leave his bed.

«Ukki! Wake up, stand up, c’mon!»

Subaru. Obviously. His heart should come to terms with it, so maybe Makoto wouldn’t die every time – because he has lost hope to see the day Subaru will knock. Like a shadows that always follows his master, Hokuto comes in after him, a light knocking on the door and a small sigh: «You shouldn’t come in unannounced.» he scolds Subaru, an apologetic smile towards Makoto. He’s too sleepy to smile back promptly, but he moves his hand to suggest that Hokuto should not worry about it. Subaru has been in both their lives for two years now; Makoto knows he’s just too full of energy and that he doesn’t mean any harm.

«What is it…?» he asks, a big yawn interrupting his sentence. Subaru is already near the window, looking outside with the same enthusiastic expression a child would have; Makoto reaches for his glasses and puts them on his nose.

«Today our city is lively. It seems that one of the Emperor’s emissary is here to recruit Heroes.» Hokuto explains, no more words than necessary. Makoto really appreciates his childhood friend’s ability to go straight to the point when it comes to explanations. Especially when he’s still too sleepy to be alive.

Sure, that alone is really something. It would still be even if Trickstar was one of the biggest cities of the region: Heroes are what most of the people wish to become, after all.

«So we are all supposed to gather in front of the Academy?» Makoto asks, finally getting up and starting to get ready to leave his room.

«We are. We have to be there with our weapons in less than a hour.» Hokuto nods, and those words are enough to make that day the worst day of the week. Makoto’s eyes wanders in the room until they can see the sword in a corner: his fated weapon, given to him when he graduated from the academy. They should be nothing less than soulmates, in a way.

Obviously, his weapon hates him. Hokuto probably knows what he is thinking about, since they graduated the same year, because he looks at him like he wants to say something to cheer him up, but in the end he stays silent. Somehow Makoto is grateful for it; he really doesn’t want to talk about how horrible his bond with his weapon is, not when practically everyone in the city already knows it.

«So he still doesn’t want to show you his human form, Ukki?» it’s what Subaru asks, and Hokuto sighs again. Makoto decides that looking at his sword won’t change anything and surely won’t help him to get ready. He just smiles, not totally comfortable, towards Subaru.

«Not yet.» he says.

It’s been two year of “not yet”.


The birth of a child is something everyone gets excited about. But all the more because of their Class, especially since it has nothing to do with their parents’. The first three years of a child’s life are the most important because doctors can understand what their attitude is and that will decide the Class they will belong to for the rest of their life. Some children are late bloomers and have to wait a couple of years more than the others, but at the age of six everyone knows who they are. Based on what his parents told him, Makoto was average: at three years old doctors were sure about his inclination as a Warrior and that was it. All he had to wait for was being old enough to join the Academy. Back then, before going to classes and meeting other people, he only knew about Warriors – because his father was the same as him – and Healers, because his mom was one of them and he never paid much attention to other children’s Classes nor he studied anything about them. It was all about playing together, after all.

But he gradually learnt about Wizards, Archers and Strategists. Truth to be told, he had never been thought about being part of another Class: Warriors suit him pretty well – or, better said, he doesn’t think he would do a great job as a Wizard or a Strategist. He started attending the Academy at the age of eleven, like every kid of the city, and that’s when Makoto met Hokuto: his childhood friend is the one he has known since the beginning of their studies, the first Healer apart of his mother he has met. Hokuto has been part of his family since then: they shared lessons, tests and the graduation, the most important moment for a student of the Academy.

Graduation means a lot. It’s not just about the end of the studies: when they graduate, students face one last test and if they success, they can have their fated weapon. Sometimes it’s an object – for Healers or Strategists, for example – like for Hokuto, who received a white glove with silver, abstract decorations. And those weapons or objects have a soul: a unique, real soul that makes that gift special, a precious ally, something so close to a soulmate that it’s hard not to think about it as a living being. When the student and the weapon’s bond is so deep they are like one, that very soul is able to take human form. It’s the proof of feelings so deeply connected – loyalty, friendship, sometimes even love – that there’s nothing considered as strong as that in the whole world.

It’s been almost a year since Subaru has taken his human form for the first time; sometimes, he and Hokuto still disagree on some matters and Subaru goes back to his glove form, but it’s more his way to pout than a real conflict between them.

Makoto’s sword rarely talks to him, and it’s just during practices. He has never seen his human form, and lately he considers some kind of miracle the fact that he knows how to call him and that the sword’s soul – so it sounds like at least – is a male one. So he doesn’t know why he should gather with all those people, some of his classmates, when there is no way he will be chosen by the Emperor’s emissary.

«So what’s this Hero thing, Hokke?» Subaru asks, his blue eyes looking at the little crowd that is in front of the Academy’s gates. Hokuto keeps walking, no need to check if Subaru is behind him, because he can feel his proximity: «Heroes are chosen to complete a mission that can’t carried out by normal people. They are usually representatives from every Class that have a strong bond with their weapons and a unique trait that distinguish them from any other person.» he explains patiently and stops his steps when he and Makoto are in front of the gates like everybody else.

«And do you have to pass a test?»

«That much, I’m not sure. I have never been chosen after all, nor I have ever seen someone be appointed here in Trickstar.» Hokuto admits, looking at his friend; Makoto shakes his head. He has never heard about it by his parents, and if Hokuto doesn’t know anything more about it, he surely can’t know anything either. From what he has been told, Hokuto’s mother was – and still is – an awesome Strategist; he has wondered if Hokuto would have preferred to be a Strategist more than a Healer, but he didn’t ask. It didn’t seem right. But Hokuto really is talented, Makoto knows it better than anyone else, not just from a childhood friend point of view, but also because they both studied in the same Academy, during the same years, and Makoto was in every test Hokuto took, in front of every board with results written on it.

A low chattering distracts him from what Hokuto and Subaru are talking about. Everyone’s attention is on the gates that are opening, on the chairman that is escorting a man out of the building. Said man is one of the most beautiful person Makoto has ever met: long, silver hair are tied in a high ponytail, the only exception being the long, thin braid on the left side of his face. His eyes remind Makoto of one of the amethyst stones his Wizards schoolmates used during their practices, but those eyes also have something he can’t really describe, something deep and a bit scary if he has to be honest. Surely, that man must come from a noble family, judging by his fine clothes: they resembles a uniform somehow, not that Makoto has ever seen one similar to it, with trousers and a jacket of such a dark blue it almost seems black and peculiar, silver decorations on the torso. Somehow, they look like the drawing of a mask. Also, seriously, who wears black gloves?

«AMAZING!» is the loud, sudden comment of that man, his eyes sparkling while he looks at the crowd in front of the gates – and in front of him. His lips are curved in a wide, amused smile «So many, talented young men and women!» he goes on, like he’s on a stage and has to fascinate his audience: «Not as much as in Fine, but for such a small city it’s surprising, isn’t it?» he asks, but it’s not clear if he’s talking with the chairman or not.

What it’s not a surprise at all is the fact that he comes from Fine, but it was a given the moment Hokuto told him that one of the Emperor’s emissary was in their city. Fine, as the Empire’s capital, is the biggest city and where the Tenshouin family lives, obviously. Makoto has seen the Emperor Eichi just a few time in the global, magical spheres through which the news for the country are transmitted thanks to the Wizards who are entrusted with the task. In Makoto’s eyes, Eichi didn’t really seem an Emperor, maybe because he’s really young – one or two years older than him? – and so it’s hard to figure how a young man can rule over a country full of personalities like the one that’s in front of his eyes right now.

«The Emperor thanks all of you for answering his call.» the man says, a gentle yet enigmatic smile on his lips: «As you have heard, I’m here to recruit a representative for each Class – a Hero that I’ll personally escort to the Emperor’s castle so that they can be entrusted with an important mission.» he explains, and he almost seems formal, if not for the fact that his composure literally breaks like he couldn’t resist the urge to move and talk freely. He claps his hands: «You don’t have to be nervous at all! This is just about being yourself and having fun and—»

«Could you please stop your blabbering and explain all this properly?» is the voice that interrupts him. Makoto looks at Hokuto, as surprised as him, and then at the man, trying to understand who just talked.

«My, my, Tomoya-kun. I was just trying to reassure them, since they are so young and cute.» he admits, a little chuckle escaping his lips; and that’s when Makoto notices it: a really simple rod, with no particular decorations apart from a small emblem Makoto has never seen before. And that rod is shining, and it’s something Makoto knows well – something he wishes for, the way a weapon changes their shape until they have a human form. So nobody is really surprised when that rod becomes a young man, his looks as plain as the object seemed: light brown hair and eyes (the same color of the rod), smaller than his Master, with crossed arms on his chest and an expression between the scolding and a little pout.

«If you properly explain what they are going to do they won’t probably be scared or worried at all. Master.» he adds, like he’s trying to impose somehow with just that word; but said Master just laughs at him, and yet it’s not to ridicule him, that much is clear to that small crowd.

«You are right as always, my dear partner.» he adds, and Tomoya’s disbelief is so obvious that if it wasn’t for how embarrassed he looks, Makoto would at least chuckle. The chairman coughs to attract his attention and it seems to work, because the man goes back to look at them: «Now, this is what is going to happen: first of all, it would be of great help if you could divide into groups based on your Class. I, Hibiki Wataru, will examine every one of you. If there’s a Hero, said person will leave the city with me tomorrow. Otherwise, you will be able to go back to your everyday life.» he explains, looking at Tomoya like he’s expecting some kind of praise. If it comes, Makoto doesn’t know because his attention goes to Hokuto next to him.

«Maybe I should tell him that my weapon hasn’t shown its human form to me.» Makoto suggests. It seems so useless to make an Emperor’s emissary examine him when he already knows that it’s impossible to be chosen when every single Warrior who graduated with him – or before him – knows at least what their weapon looks like and has a strong bond with it. Hokuto waits for a moment and then shakes his head.

«You should let him examine you. If anything, you could ask him for an advice. After all, if he’s the Emperor’s emissary, he surely is a man of great knowledge and experience.» Hokuto suggests, before Subaru joins their conversation, as excited as always.

«You totally should, Ukki! Maybe your weapon doesn’t work and they have to change it!»

«Subaru, you should know better than anyone else how weapons react and work. How can you say such a stupid thing like Makoto’s weapon being the same as a broken utensil.» Hokuto scolds him, a stern expression on his face. Subaru pouts, offended.

«I don’t understand why a weapon wouldn’t show its human form to its Master! Because I’m a weapon? And I wanted to talk to Hokke, and hugs you and play with you? And be of some help too!»

«I…» Makoto begins, peeking at the sword at his side «I don’t think that he’s broken.» he admits «He just…» he hesitates. It still hurts to admit the truth Makoto came up with in those two years of nothing more than some sentences in his mind. He bits his lower lip for a moment and then tries to smile at them both: «But Hokuto-kun is right. I can try to ask for some advice.»

Isn’t that better that simply admit how much his weapon seems to hate him?   


It’s less than half an hour since he and Hokuto went to different groups, and the Healers were called first into the main room of the Academy, doors closed after them and no sounds to be heard. Makoto recognizes most of the faces of his group, but hasn’t started a conversation with any of them; not that other groups are really talkative at the moment. Some of them seem to be studying, a nostalgic feeling that reminds him the last test before graduation; some others – especially between Archers – are simply focusing. Makoto is just there, his back against one of the wall in front of the big wooden doors, and apart from peeking at what others are doing every now and then; he’s not doing anything at all. He’s already convinced about telling clearly to Hibiki Wataru that there’s no way he can be chosen and that he would really appreciate it if he could tell him what he’s supposed to do with his weapon. He also can’t help but think about  Subaru’s words, about how much he – but, judging by what he said, it’s the same for every weapon – wanted to be able to talk to Hokuto not just telepathically. Well, “every weapon” except for his.

I already talk to you., it’s what he hears in his mind and what makes him jump a little. Last time he heard that voice was… the week before, maybe. If he thinks about it, his weapon seems to make sure Makoto knows that he’s there. He just says a few words, like he’s assuring him that he’s still there, but nothing else. Makoto has tried to have a real conversation with him, but he failed time after time.

You tell me that you are here”, Makoto thinks, sure that he’s being listened to “it’s not exactly ‘talking’”.

You are used to it.

«Not because I want it…» he mutters, making sure nobody is near enough to hear him. Sometimes he wonders if a weapon can change his Master, if their bond is almost non-existent. He doesn’t know if that thought has been heard before or not, though.

I’ve heard it. Don’t want to., the voice in his head says, to his surprise. Makoto has tried to imagine how his weapon would look like, to figure out what kind of ‘person’ he would be – he knows his weapon is a boy or a man, because of the familiar and yet distant voice – and until now he has managed enough to understand when his weapon is sulking.

He totally is.

«I’m… not saying that I want to get rid of you.» Makoto tries, whispering like the sword is a person standing beside him, even if he isn’t. And he waits for a reply that doesn’t come and he knows too well that it’s useless to give him time hoping he’ll say something more. When he goes silent, he never speaks again for a while.

The doors opening distracts him from his thoughts. Green eyes look for the familiar figure of Hokuto, but behind Tomoya there’s nobody to be seen except for Wataru. Makoto frowns – maybe they made Healers leave the room through a second door? Makoto has been in the main room a few times, but honestly he never looked specifically for other entries.

«Next is the Warriors Class. Please, enter.» Tomoya simply says, moving on the side so that they can easily enter.
The room is empty and exactly as Makoto remembers it. The only person in that big space is Wataru, standing at the center of the room like he belongs to that place and he’s completely at ease even when surrounded by strangers. He doesn’t give them instructions, so Makoto isn’t sure what they are supposed to do: wait there for some sort of test? Fight each other like in some sort of tournament? Or is it—

«My weapon disappeared!» it’s the first thing they hear, suddenly and unpredictable. Makoto turns his head towards the voice – he’s a senior from when he was in his first or second year – and it’s true: the big lance he had on his back is nowhere to be found. A hubbub fills the air and the room, worried and perplexed voices wondering what’s happening. Makoto peeks at his waist: his sword is still there.

«My knife!» the voice of a girl not too far from where he’s standing is like an alarm nobody need nor asked for. Someone asks what’s the meaning of all this, others start to look for the missing weapons and yet as the time passes, more and more warriors are left alone without their partners. Makoto feels his stomach twitch and his eyes wander from face to face; he doesn’t like what he sees: people worried, scared because their most precious thing – their most precious companion – is being stolen or at least disappeared without trace. Makoto knows this. It’s one of the first things they teach them in the Academy, the way people become unreasonable, how panic can be the worst enemy and how to face it. Yet, he’s never be good at it: he can improve the general mood, yes, but calm down Warriors is on total different level. They are known to be all instinct and brave and foolish acts.

That’s when Makoto notices it: Wataru, still standing at the center of the room, is like a God looking down on poor men who can’t avoid their fate. Makoto can’t tell he looks bored or amused, even; if he is seeing exactly what he expected or not. Their eyes meet and Makoto feels a shiver go down his back – not being able to explain why, his hand goes on his sword. It’s still there, and a sudden relief lets him breathe again.

Makoto wouldn’t be able to say for how much they look at each other. But as suddenly as it began, it ends: people are not in the room anymore, voices don’t echo, and he almost starts believing that it was all an illusion created by Wataru.

«So it’s him.» Tomoya says, looking at him with a genuine curiosity in his eyes. Makoto isn’t sure what he means, and it’s all the more confused when Wataru starts laughing. It’s not a mean laugh, and the feeling of him looking down on all the Warriors in the room just disappeared, making him look like a child that finds everything incredibly amusing.

«Oh my, I would have never guessed! What’s your name?»

«…Yuuki Makoto.» he answers, but takes a step back, trying to sneak a peek of the doors behind him. Is he in a situation where he needs to find a way to escape?

«Yuuki-kun!» Wataru seems almost entranced «So, you are the strongest Warrior.»

…Wait, what?

«I’m— not at all?! My weapon doesn’t even want to take human form in front of me and rarely speaks to me?!» he can’t help but blurt out those sentences. Truth, it would be a great honor to be considered a Hero, but what could happen if he were to join a mission without having enough power to be of some help? He could even endanger people.

«Certainly your weapon is stubborn.» Wataru speaks softly, a tender smile Makoto is sure is focused on Tomoya for a brief moment «But he did his best just now, you know?»

«His best? What for…?»

«Not being separated from you.» Wataru says it like it’s natural, but Makoto can’t believe it in the slightest. Not until Tomoya explain it a little better, with a small sigh – he must be accustomed to help his Master in those sort of things.

«My Master is a Wizard. Just now all of you and your weapons where in a room full of his magic. More specifically, this spell is supposed to severe for a few minutes the bond between Master and weapon. Since the Hero must have the strongest bond with his partner, this was the test. And you passed, somehow.»

«But my weapon—»

«Maybe it never showed it’s true form or power to you, but I can sense it quite well. They really did their best. Especially when you touched it…?» he suggests, and Makoto looks at that weapon, trying to hear its voice in his head. He doesn’t speak out loud, but tries to ask him telepathically anyway.

Did you really do your best?”, he asks, sure about the fact that he won’t get an answer; yet there’s this small, tired breathe like it’s tickling his ear. Makoto holds his breath, as it could help him to hear better.

I already said it, that I don’t want another Master., is the only answer that is given to him.

Why is it that it makes him so stupidly happy?


He is surprised and incredibly relieved when, leaving the main room, he joins Hokuto in the hallway. Their gazes meet and Makoto feels his whole body relax; probably is something really obvious since he hears a little chuckle behind his back, surely from Wataru. He doesn’t mind him, also because Hokuto is smiling at him, not without a bit of surprise in his eyes.

«Were you chosen too, Yuuki?»

«Yes.» he admits, not sure how to feel about it «Was your test like mine? Weapons disappearing and people panicking?» Makoto knows it’s not a great description but he still can’t believe what did happen in that room – not only being chosen as a Hero, but his weapon finally showing that he wants to stay by his side. Wasn’t it for the serious situation they seem to be getting into, Makoto would simply be overjoyed without a worry in the world. Yet, he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what being a Hero means.

Hokuto looks at him, confused and surprised at the same time, giving a silent ‘no’ as an answer, shaking his head.

«Hibiki-san» Hokuto calls for the man, looking back at him and his weapon still in human form «what’s the mission we are supposed to accomplish? And why just a Warrior and a Healer?» he asks directly, no hesitation in his voice. Makoto’s eyes move from him to Wataru, trying to understand better that man that doesn’t seem too far in age from them and yet is already one of the Emperor’s emissary. The only thing Makoto is sure of is that Wataru must be an amazing Wizard: to be able of casting such a big spell without any of the Warriors noticing it must have some meaning after all. Makoto has seen many Wizards at the Academy, fellow students and teachers but one of the few things he knows about magic is that it doesn’t come out of nowhere nor it is impossible to notice it beforehand. How powerful is that man?

«Obviously you won’t be just a Warrior and a Healer.» Wataru replies, winking at the both of them like they’re old friends «You are just the first two Heroes for this mission.»

«How many…?»

«Three. We are going to recruit them together of course!»

…of course. Of course.
Hokuto looks at him like he’s trying to understand if they are thinking the same thing or not; Makoto shakes his head a bit, because really, he has no idea what ‘recruiting together’ could mean when it’s Wataru the one is saying it. He misses Subaru’s bluntness in situations like this, but it can’t be helped since he’s in his fight form, a simple glove that Hokuto wears on his right hand.

«Are the other three in other cities?» Makoto asks, since it’s obvious that if they were all in Trickstar they would have been all together already. Wataru doesn’t reply, too busy with who knows what, since the only thing he seems to be doing is humming a melody Makoto doesn’t know. Tomoya, who is walking beside his Master, sighs and slows his pace so that he can walk with them and explain everything.

«Nobody knows where the Heroes are. They could be in any city, actually. So we are going to visit all of them until we find them.»

«We don’t know where they are?» Hokuto is not the only one quite surprised; who leaves their home to search in every city just in case the person they are looking for – identity unknown – is there? It doesn’t sound like a great plan. Or like a plan at all.

«But our country» Makoto interrupts them «has at least four big cities and many villages…»

«And many valleys and forests, Makoto-kun! Doesn’t it excite you?!» Wataru exclaims, slightly turned towards them, smiling widely.

Makoto doesn’t have the heart to tell him that no, it doesn’t excite him at all.   

«But, alas!, I’m afraid our adventure will be shorter than what we anticipated since I know one of the other Heroes’ identity and I happen to have already spoken with him.» Wataru admits and the funny thing is that he really seems concerned about them having less chances to be adventurous. Also, how Tomoya looks at Wataru, completely caught off guard: «Did you speak with one of them?!»

«It’s alright, Tomoya-kun! You were sleeping and you were so cute I decided not to wake you up when it happened!»

«You should have told me when I woke up— and could you please stop being so ambiguous about our relationship?!» the Weapon scolds him, a bit flustered. It makes Makoto smile – maybe it’s just because he feels like he can relate so much to Tomoya and how he seems to be overwhelmed by the situation…

It’s Hokuto who distracts him asking the simplest and yet most important question: «So where are we going first?»

«To the next city on the way to the Capital,» Wataru replies, an amused smile on his lips that looks a lot like the one in the main room that Makoto saw earlier «Knights!»


hakurenshi: (Default)
 

Tomoya ama il suo lavoro: ha studiato con entusiasmo per arrivare a poterlo fare, con i colleghi di lavoro si trova bene - Kiryu-senpai pur essendo burbero di primo impatto ha un modo tutto suo, e per lo più efficace, di rapportarsi ai bambini della loro classe. Hajime, che conosce dal liceo, è una persona che Tomoya non saprebbe immaginare a fare un mestiere diverso da quello. Certo, forse alla sua prima assunzione non si aspettava già di essere assegnato a una classe “problematica”, per così dire, ma non c’è niente di davvero impossibile da gestire.
A parte un bambino.
«Tomoya-kun?» la voce di Hajime, colma di preoccupazione e del tentativo di fargli forza, lo richiama alla realtà; se non fosse che l’amico ha già troppe cose per le mani di cui occuparsi, Tomoya quasi prenderebbe in considerazione di fingersi svenuto perché non è sicuro di avere la forza di seguire e stare al gioco del bambino che gli si è appena attaccato a una gamba.
«Ce la fai da solo?» domanda, abbozzando un sorriso che un po’ è di scuse e un po’ è una muta richiesta di aiuto inconscia; Hajime annuisce più volte, ma non ha il tempo di parlare perché una voce infantile lo fa al posto suo. Tomoya sposta lo sguardo, inquadrando Itsuki Shu davanti al collega, seduto composto, intento a versare del tè invisibile in tazzine riempite con una fantasia invidiabile.
«Mashiro-sensei» lo chiama come un adulto richiamerebbe all’ordine un figlio o un proprio pari particolarmente fastidioso «Io e Shino-sensei stiamo prendendo il tè. Non è educato stare lì in piedi mentre facciamo le cose importanti.» decreta, tutto d’un pezzo nella serietà buffa di un bambino che si atteggia a persona grande, ma Tomoya non ha nessuna intenzione di ridere. L’ultima volta che non ha preso sul serio Itsuki le urla si sono sentite letteralmente fino alla classe che si trova all’inizio del corridoio.

Si limita ad annuire, cercando di sembrare più solenne possibile mentre Hajime assicura a Shu che tornerà subito a concentrarsi sul loro tè, deve solo finire di dire una cosa; nel mentre, lo sguardo di Tomoya scivola dal lato opposto a dove si trova Shu, ossia dietro la schiena di Hajime: un silenzioso Natsume - un bambino che, davvero, alterna momenti di pura follia infantile ad altri di calma totale. Tomoya ancora non dimentica il momento in cui Sakasaki ha promesso di esaudire un desiderio di Hajime se l’altro fosse diventato una ragazza magica. Non ha voluto insistere su quali programmi quel bambino non dovrebbe assolutamente guardare in televisione e, per adesso, si accontenta di vederlo tutto concentrato sulle ciocche di capelli di Hajime, lunghi anche se tenuti legati in un’ordinata coda bassa. Natsume sembra star cercando il modo migliore di replicare una complessa treccia che avrà visto chissà dove, le piccole mani che si passano le ciocche tra di loro senza risolvere granché, per ora.
«Davvero, Tomoya-kun, qui ce la faccio da solo. Shu-kun e Natsume-kun mi stanno tenendo compagnia.» assicura, con quel modo gentile che ha di gratificare i bambini sempre e comunque. Tomoya annuisce, abbassando lo sguardo sulla piccola piovra che continua a tirargli la gamba e cerca di muoversi con delicatezza, senza che camminare risulti in un far male al bambino.
Pochi passi e a raggiungerlo è proprio la voce di Kiryu-senpai, appena rientrato nella stanza: basta guardarlo per vedere che deve star facendo una certa fatica. Una mano è stretta in quella piccola di Shinkai, un bambino sempre sorridente e abbastanza tranquillo se non fosse che tende a scappare e sparire con il solo scopo di buttarsi in acqua in qualsiasi situazione e a prescindere dalla stagione in corso. Tomoya non ha bisogno di chiedere per sapere che, probabilmente, Kiryu-senpai deve averlo recuperato in qualche bagno e vicino a un lavandino a giudicare da quanto Kanata sia fradicio. Almeno uno dei due ha l’aria divertita.
«Kiryu-senpai»
«Tomoya-kun, Tomoya-kun,»
«posso aiutarti a cambiare Shinkai-kun prima di-»
«Tomoya-kun, Tomoya-kun, Tomoya-kun»

«prima di» perde il filo per un momento «di uscire per...»
«Tomoya-kun!»
«Non preoccuparti Mashiro. Ce la faccio.» Kuro deve aver appena avuto pietà di lui, il che è tutto dire se si considera che deve aver recuperato Shinkai con in braccio Sakuma, il bambino che è ancora appiccicato a lui, tenuto su da un braccio, e ancora intento a mordicchiare la guancia di Kiryu. Tomoya lo ammira per come riesce a restare impassibile, anche quando sente Sakuma dire «Kiryu-sensei adesso sei un vampiro anche tu!», perché lui da parte sua è sicuro che se sente di nuovo chiamare il suo nome impazzirà e basta.

Fa un respiro profondo, prima di abbassare lo sguardo sul suo aguzzino: Hibiki Wataru è un bambino fin troppo energico che, a guardarlo, sembra un angelo. Se stesse fermo continuerebbe a sembrarlo, invece purtroppo non solo è sempre in movimento, ma pare avere una fissazione palese per lui. Il modo in cui continua a tirarlo verso la porta finestra che collega un lato della loro aula al giardino è solo uno, dei tanti modi, in cui cerca di dimostrarlo. Tomoya inspira, per poi allungarsi a recuperare il necessario per coprirlo bene; si piega sulle ginocchia, così da essere grosso modo alla sua stessa altezza e vede negli occhi di Wataru la meraviglia di chi ha appena saputo che Babbo Natale passerà per ben due volte dalla sua casa.
«Possiamo andare fuori, ma solo se ti copri per bene, Wataru-kun.» pronuncia, vedendolo mettersi ben dritto, impettito in un modo che ricorda vagamente Shu, le braccia tese pronto a farsi vestire. Tomoya sospira - un po’ è rassegnato, un po’ è sollevato - mentre gli infila il cappotto una manica alla volta, si assicura di avvolgergli bene la sciarpa intorno al collo e di fargli indossare i guanti di lana. Lo guarda, incerto se provare a mettergli almeno un paraorecchie, ma Wataru non sembra in grado di contenere tutta l’energia che ha in corpo ancora per molto, così Tomoya si veste a propria volta e finalmente lo guida fino alla finestra, aprendola il necessario a uscire e richiudendola una volta che sono fuori, così da non far entrare l’aria gelida all’interno della classe. Il giardino è del tutto coperto di neve e c’è un silenzio innaturale che Wataru spezza in un secondo con un «Uaaaaah» a pieni polmoni mentre già corre e zompetta in maniera goffa nella neve. Tomoya rabbrividisce, ma mai tanto quanto fa nel vederlo buttarsi di schiena sulla neve e cominciare a fare l’angelo, muovendo le braccia e le gambe. Non vuole rovinargli il divertimento, ma non vuole nemmeno che prenda un raffreddore, così un attimo dopo è lì che lo tira su diventando il peggior cattivo delle storie per bambini. Wataru ha un broncio ad arricciargli le labbra, gonfia le guance mentre Tomoya gli toglie la neve dalla schiena e dai capelli.
«Tomoya-kun sei noioso.»
«Tomoya-sensei» lo corregge, pur sapendo di star dando aria alla bocca. Dal suo primo giorno in quell’asilo Hibiki non lo ha mai chiamato con il giusto suffisso se non forse in un saluto corale offerto dall’intera classe.
«Facciamo qualcosa insieme! La lotta con la neve! Corriamo e scivoliamo fino all’albero!» propone, mentre nella mente di Tomoya si forma l’orrenda immagine di loro due che vengono fermati dall’albero. Non è sicuro di voler spiegare perché un bambino sia finito a sbattere contro un tronco.
«Wataru-kun… perché non mi insegni a fare un pupazzo di neve?»
E’ un pretesto come un altro quello di fingere di non essere in grado di farcela da solo, ma il modo in cui gli occhi gli si illuminano lo sorprende; non ci aveva creduto nemmeno per un istante che una cosa così semplice lo avrebbe distratto dai suoi propositi un po’ suicidi, invece anche Hibiki alla fine si dimostra per quello che è: solo un bambino. Chiude la mano in un piccolo pugno e la batte contro il petto, come a suggerire di lasciar fare a lui prima di trotterellare poco distante da lì a prendere un bastoncino.
«Tomoya-kun tu puoi prendere le cose che servono per fare le braccia, il naso, gli occhi e la bocca del pupazzo di neve!» decreta pieno di entusiasmo e Tomoya decide di assecondare tutta quella voglia di fare. Si piega di nuovo sulle ginocchia, un gomito poggiato su una di esse e la mano a sorreggere il viso: «E cosa si cerca per fare queste cose?» domanda cercando di fingersi del tutto ignorante in materia.
«Per le braccia possiamo usare i bastoncini! E anche per il naso! Gli occhi...» sembra dubbioso mentre si guarda intorno e d’altra parte la neve ha ricoperto tutto il terreno, perciò ogni possibile suggerimento è nascosto sotto di essa.
Tomoya si porta le mani nelle tasche, alla ricerca di qualcosa di utile: ci trova due caramelle e le porge a Wataru, ancora incartate. La sua idea in realtà è offrirgliele per mangiarle, ma il più piccolo ha ben altri progetti.
«Sì sì sì» ripete come una cantilena, mentre le posa per terra insieme al rametto che ha trovato; poco dopo Tomoya viene tirato per la manica in giro per il giardino, finché tutto l’occorrente non è finalmente radunato - con qualche buca qua e là nella neve e un povero cespuglio sacrificato per un bene superiore.
Wataru non perde tempo, si mette subito all’opera: comincia a spiegare ma si distrae subito, troppo concentrato nel fare la sua palla di neve gigante perché il pupazzo abbia un corpo solido; ha affidato a Tomoya l’importantissimo compito di creare la testa e lui si adegua, facendo tutto con più lentezza del dovuto, per dargli modo di essere il primo a terminare. Non lo disturba nemmeno, stupendosi come sempre di quanto quel bambino sappia essere incredibilmente silenzioso, quando vuole.
Ci mettono fin troppo tempo a finire, ma quando riescono Wataru brilla di luce propria di fronte a un pupazzo di neve forse un pochino storto e non proprio proporzionato al massimo, ma che almeno si regge e ha tutto al posto giusto. Wataru ha il naso e le guance arrossate dal freddo, e Tomoya era deciso a rientrare già prima di sentire un paio di fiocchi bagnargli la punta del naso; alzando lo sguardo vede che la neve ha ripreso a cadere, e non è davvero il caso di restare fuori oltre.
Sperando che Wataru non cominci a correre ovunque facendo i capricci.
«Wataru-kun, torniamo dentro.» propone con cautela, ben conscio di come imporre qualcosa a quel bambino significhi ottenere esattamente l’opposto - e non per cattiveria, no, a Hibiki sembra sempre tutto un gioco, Tomoya questo lo ha capito quasi subito. Wataru lo guarda, come se stesse soppesando cosa sia più importante tra la neve e Tomoya, e alla fine (dovrebbe sentirsi lusingato da questa cosa…?) sceglie lui e si avvicina, tutto sommato docile.
Lo guarda per un momento, prima di chinarsi di nuovo perché tra loro non ci sia troppa differenza. Si toglie i guanti, più freddi di quanto lo siano le mani che hanno riparato dal contatto diretto con la neve, e posa queste ultime sulle guance del bambino. Le mani di Tomoya sono tiepide, il viso di Wataru è freddo, il che dovrebbe rendere il contatto piacevole e a giudicare da come - dopo un momento di iniziale e genuina sorpresa - Wataru socchiude gli occhi e sorride beato, deve essere così.
Tomoya si lascia scappare uno sbuffo divertito; un’ultima occhiata al loro pupazzo che Wataru già sciorina mille idee per nomi improbabili.

Profile

hakurenshi: (Default)
hakurenshi

April 2025

S M T W T F S
  1234 5
6789101112
1314151617 1819
20212223242526
27282930   

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 26th, 2025 04:36 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios