Trigger Warning: Abuse (Verbal abuse), Physical Abuse (Slapping, hairpulling)

The Akashi household was never lively. It was always cold.

Senju was used to it by now, but there was always a small part of her that wished that the placed she called "home" would be more lively. More warm and loving.

But she knew that it wasn't going to happen.

Senju was the third child. The youngest. The one that's always the favorite. While the oldest sibling gets pressured and the middle child gets ignored, the youngest would live at least a little happily. But life doesn't go like that. The life of that kind of family only existed when the family was complete.

But that was the issue. They weren't complete. They were broken.

It didn't help that Takeomi was more and more distant and Haruchiyo was colder than before.

Senju was basically... alone.

On that day... on that painful day... She couldn't remember why she even lied that day. She never expected that the lie would cause so much. As much as Senju wanted to apologize to Manjiro, she was guilty. Too guilty.

Too guilty to even visit him.

"Senju?" She perked up, hearing the voice of her grandfather. Senju was lucky to even have one family member who cared for her and Haruchiyo. "Child, you've been quiet. Ever since poor Chiyo-kun was sent to the hospital." He walks over to her, carefully sitting down next to her. "Are you alright?"

Senju looks at her grandfather before hugging her knees, looking away from him. "I don't think I am."

Her grandfather gently pats her back, comforting her. "When you're ready to tell me what's wrong, I will listen."

Senju's eyes started being filled with small tears. She wanted to open this up to him. She wanted to tell everything so that the baggage in her heart and mind could just... just go away. She wanted this incident to leave her for good. But she knew well enough that this incident will never, ever, leave her mind until the day she'd die.

So she'll just keep quiet for now.

"Thank you, grandpa. I'll remember that."

Her grandfather smiles, gently caressing her hair. "You should go out a little more, Senju. Maybe get some fresh air." He suggested.

Maybe Senju needed a little bit of that fresh air.

Hitomiko didn't expect seeing Shinichiro's childhood friend in front of the library, but nonetheless she welcomed him inside and they sat down at a nearby corner. Except, Hitomiko was keeping a bit of a distance from him. She didn't necessarily hate Takeomi, but she didn't like him either. All that Hitomiko knew was that Takeomi was a good person, and he had his charisma. He had the skills to convince anyone to do his bidding. There were rare occasions that his charisma didn't work, but the majority of the time, Takeomi always won them over.

"Is there a reason why you wanted to see me?" Hitomiko asks, raising an eyebrow at him. Well, at least Takeomi was respectful enough to hold in his smoking habits in a setting like this. "Is this about Shinichiro?" She inquired.

Takeomi was silent, then lets out a sigh. Hitomiko could smell the smoke from his breath alone, and she tried her best to hide her grimace. "I'm not on speaking terms with him." He says, his tone sounding... angry. Hitomiko wanted to ask why but she decided on keeping quiet for now. "I was hoping to have a friend to talk to." He added, sounding more mellow. Hitomiko was a bit surprised with this, considering that she and him rarely talked, if at all. They only had one conversation, but that was long ago.

"You really love Shin, don't you?" Takeomi looks at her with a monotone expression as he blows another puff of smoke from his cigarette.

Hitomiko was hiding her blush by covering her flushed face with Shinichiro's jacket. Her silence was already a good enough answer for Takeomi. He only shrugs, taking another puff. "Take care of his heart. It's pretty fragile." He says jokingly. "But seriously, he's been rejected for about..." Takeomi starts counting on his fingers. "Twenty times. So when he said he wanted to impress you we were kind of—" "Wary? Suspicious?" Hitomiko asks now, clutching on Shinichiro's jacket. "I can understand. You, Waka, and Arashi are his friends. It's evident that you care for him."

Takeomi notices Hitomiko's smile. It was gentle.

Takeomi shrugs again, smiling a little. "Well, this just means we're friends, right?"

"I didn't know you still considered me as a friend." Hitomiko says, averting her gaze to one of the bookshelves nearby. "We never really... talked. Just only once. And we never talked after that."

"I know, I know. But I wanted to change that." Takeomi starts. He notices Hitomiko's gaze, and he puts a hand on top of her own. "I'm not trying to hit on you, okay? I just want to have a normal conversation, as a friend."

Hitomiko didn't pull her hand away, but she was showing discomfort. Takeomi notices, and he quickly removes his hand. "Force of habit. Sorry." He apologizes, looking away. There was an uncomfortable silence growing between them, and it was making the mood more awkward than before. "It's fine, just don't do it again." Hitomiko waves it off, hoping to sound a little bit polite as she was looking at him. "Okay, we'll have this conversation. What do you want to talk about?" She asks him again. "And I'm assuming this is about Shinichiro, judging from your expression."

Takeomi holds his hand out. "We're still friends after this, right?"

"Yeah, friends." Hitomiko holds her hand out, and Takeomi gladly accepts it.

Hitomiko just nods, shaking his hand. "Yeah, we'll still be friends."

(August 20, 1997)

Haruchiyo decided to visit his mom.

It was a last minute decision. He had the choice to visit Manjiro or visit Senju. He didn't want to see either of them at the moment, so he deicded on seeing his mom.

Haruchiyo didn't bother in knocking. The door was always open anyway. The inside of the house was dark, with only the television lighting up the living room. It was a mess, in all honesty. Lots of empty cans and crumbs of food were scattered all over the floor and couch. Glass shards from multiple bottles being thrown were scattered around the carpet.

Haruchiyo grimaced at the sight. He was right to bring a garbage bag with him. Looks like he was going to clean up again.

He switches on the lights and a groan was heard from the couch. A woman's messy hair was shown into view, rubbing her eyes. Once her vision was clear, she only scoffs. "About time. What fucking took you?" She snarled. Haruchiyo didn't answer, he only bows. Another scoff was heard before he heard heels clacking against the wooden floor. Haruchiyo lets out a sigh, already going over to the couch to clean up the mess.

Aside from the crumbs of food, empty cans, and glass shards, there were small bags. They were labelled, and Haruchiyo knew they were for.

He didn't say anything. He made a disgusted expression, but he started cleaning them up.

"God, I don't even know why that son of a bitch made more than just one disappointment."

Haruchiyo was blocking her words. She was still his mom. She was still his mom. He kept repeating that mantra in his head as he picked up the empty soda cans. He wondered how he was going to pick up the food crumbs and the glass shards, but for now he'll do what he could do at that moment. 

"Since when did you get those hideous scars?" His mother asks, her voice sounding shrilled and yet at the same time, annoyed.

Haruchiyo hesitated for a few seconds before answering, "A friend did this."

"Well at least that friend did the right thing. You already looked like your father, at least no one would be able to notice now."

"Is that why you left?" Haruchiyo didn't mean for that question to come out of his mouth, but the small rage inside of him couldn't contain itself any longer. Before he knew it, heels were clacking as his mother was walking towards him before a hard slap was met on Haruchiyo's face.

"You should be grateful that I even let you in! Who gave you the right to talk to me like that?!" Then, Haruchiyo felt his hair being pulled. It was painful. She was pulling too hard. He swore that he felt her sharp nails digging onto his scalp. "You're just like your father! Idiotic, stupid, ugly--!"

"At least he still cares! Unlike you!" Haruchiyo spat back, the tears flowing from his eyes as the tight grip on his hair was starting to hurt even more. Another hard slap was met across his face before his mother finally let go of his hair.

"Get out and don't come back." His mother snarled. "GET OUT!"

Haruchiyo didn't bother in getting the garbage bag as he ran out of the door.

And he didn't look back. Not even once. Haruchiyo was tired of looking back.