chroniclesoffireflies:

stickfingercorps:

chroniclesoffireflies:

stickfingercorps:

chroniclesoffireflies:

(Sorry this is so late :P)

Send me a “❤” and I’ll generate a number (angst version):

9. My muse must abandon yours, to protect them. This is how my muse says goodbye.

Tsukasa pat the girl, who was barely a woman, on the head.The time had come. Too long, she had stayed here. Staying here any longer would only bring more of Lumen’s attention to her and those around her.

She was dangerous and no one, especially the kid, deserved to be in constant danger.

“I’ve got something for you,” She said quietly before shrugging her leather jacket off. She draped it around the youngster’s shoulders. “Keep it, okay?” She smiled grimly. “It’s yours now.”

((Yes! I’m going to say she’s ten or so, does that work?))

Kaede stared up at her teacher, her good eye filling with tears.The jacket was too big for her by a long shot, but slipped her arms in anyway and hugged it to her tightly. This was it? Three years was all she got with her big sister? Her sensei? 

She squinted her tears out violently and wiped her eye with her blue black knuckles. Embarrassing. 

“Thank you, sensei.”  She bowed out of habit then straightened, stuck out her chest and… her lip quivered-no no don’t- she spread her feet apart and clutched her hands into tight fists. It was all she could do to keep from bursting into the soggy mess Tsukasa had found her in three years prior. Even so, she was failing. Her lower lip started to bleed from how hard she clamped on to it.

“I…” deep breaths hold it together “I wish you didn’t have to go, Tomiko-Sensei.”

The grim smile remained as Tsukasa continued ruffling her student’s hair. Of course she’d be crying, but Tsukasa would pretend that she wasn’t. Like Kaede, Tsukasa didn’t want to go. Three years ago, her  life was a sh*thole- nothing could get worse, but nothing could get better either. Not when Keiko’s life was on the line.

That’s at least what Tsukasa thought. And then she met Kaede, the little girl on the streets with a certain toughness that Tsukasa had when she was a child. If she had known Kaede was going to become her precious student, then maybe Tsukasa would’ve thought about leaving Japan sooner.

But she didn’t. One week became two and then a month, and then two month…until finally, three years had passed. And Tsukasa realized she had stayed for too long.

She knelt down to Kaede’s level. “…Me too. But I can’t, Kaede-kun- this is your home and I can’t take that from you. You know that better than anyone else.

“But listen to me, if you want to remember me, live a good life, okay? Go to school and get into college. Make new friends and protect the ones you love. Only fight when you have to- and don’t do anything I wouldn’t. If you can do all that, then I think everything will turn out just fine.”

Kaede had nodded then watched as her mentor stood and left. Not just the warehouse they had practiced in, but her life. She stayed there for a little while then walked home through the crowded, narrow streets of West District. 

They don’t live there anymore.

——-

Wham! The bag swung away wildly, desperate to escape the impact of Kaede’s high kick. 

“Control, Akiyama. You can’t tell me that was even borderline efficient.”

“Yes, Captain. Sorry,” She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her gloved hand, “Bad day.”

“Bad day or no, you’ll lose by attrition with no form like that. You’re better than that. Don’t let me see it again,”

The pink haired boxer nodded then put her hands on her knees, dropping her headto dangle between. He was right: she’d been whaling on bags and opponents for only an hour and she was already feeling it big time. Maybe she was worrying about them too much, her friends could work it out. They were brothers after all.

After a hard workout, the pseudo-yankee shoved her sparse gear into her red duffel bag, pulled on the jacket, and walked out into the biting fall air. Maybe it was because the anniversary of that day was coming up. She shoved through the crowd and managed to get a seat on the subway.

Seven years.

Seven years since Tsukasa had left Kaede. Although technically, Tsukasa had been in the city multiple times before, many to check up on Kaede without the student’s knowing.

Letting the student know would’ve been dangerous. 

Not anymore.

They were gone, finally and Tsukasa was free to do whatever. And instead of going back home to see Keiko, Tsukasa decided to come here. to check up on Kaede; whether Tsukasa wanted Kaede knowing her teacher has returned, Tsukasa wasn’t too sure.

Tsukasa watched the girl with the eye patch, bubblegum colored hair, and her old leather jacket leave the gym. Keeping in the shadows of the alleyway, she crossed her arms, which a own black leather jacket covered. Her eyes twinkled with pride as Kaede walked down the street.

You’ve grown, Kid. I bet you’ve already surpassed me by now. 

Having already known where Kaede would head next, Tsukasa followed her into the subway. Hopefully she could find a seat far away from Kaede-

Darn it. 

With no empty seats available, Tsukasa was forced to stand only a few feet away from where Kaede was sitting. Awkwardly, Tsukasa turned her back to her student, keeping one hand on the balance handles. She looked different enough, right? 

Maybe not. The only difference Tsukasa could think in her appearance was the fact that she had long hair now, having grown it out.

At the next stop, an old woman hobbled into the car with a large carpet bag. She looked around and, finding no seat, went to hold on to the rail.

“Ma’am?" 

Kaede got to her feet and gestured for the woman to take her abdicated seat. The granny smiled, gave a ‘thank you dearie’ and sat down shakily, releasing her load to the ground at her feet. The boxer, on the other hand, hoisted her bag to her shoulder and chose a handle next to a woman in a black jacket. Lurching forward with the start of the train, Kaede’s bag accidentally swung and bumped into that neighbor.

"Oh, crap, I’m sorry.” She turned around to apologize and frowned in partial recognition.