ODE TO THE MURDERED, bonten

35

PART THIRTY-FIVE !
her true intentions iii.

            "KAWAGUCHI IS AS DULL as i remembered." Hanma sits himself on the chair across from you, staring at the baked treat in front of him. you shoot him a dull look, stirring your coffee boringly.

    "it's peaceful here."

    "too peaceful for me." he whines.

    you clicked your tongue softly. "you find all things dull."

    "everything maybe, but not you." Hanma leans his cheek on his open palm, eyes crinkling as he admires you from across the table. "how have you been, Misaki?"

    "how many times have i told you to not call me that?" you blow your cup and take a sip of your coffee, letting his laughter bubble the air around you.

    it's been a couple of months since you've escaped Tokyo, now here in Kawaguchi City you've enrolled into an arts university to finish college and sell some paintings to make a living. Hanma had thought of the name Misaki jokingly: since you were annoyed the last time he kept calling you Kisaki.

    your relationship with Hanma had also changed, so far as your concrete life plan stretched, having and seeking help from Hanma Shuji had been the best plan you could've gathered: he was your eyes and your ears.

    when you disappeared, Hanma had made sure to keep you in track with the movements of Quoia whilst being under a gang, slowly piecing together your next move when they give up their unbridled manhunt for you—after all, when the police found your uncle's dead body Hanma was conniving and managed to pin his death on 'a mysterious syndicate.' scratching your name off the charts completely.

    "here's my report." he slides a flashdrive your way.

    "good job." you pocketed the flash drive, placing your empty cup on the table and pushing yourself off the booth. "let's continue this back at my house."

it was less than five minutes to travel from your favorite cafe to your makeshift condo.

a tattered sigh escapes you as you dropped your keys into a bowl nearby, popping three buttons from your buttoned blouse free from its tight embrace on your fabric and unwrapping the scarf around your shoulders. you sauntered further into the space, only briefly looking back at Hanma entering right after you.

you didn't waste time and walked inside your room, going to your desk and opening your laptop and settling the drive on top of the desk. you didn't flinch when you felt Hanma wrap his arms around you, resting his face on your hair.

"you're frustrated."

you massage your temple. "i just had a bad dream is all."

"relax, y/n. we'll be able to prepare then we can strike back once you don't have a hit on you." his hands starts moving, going up to rub your shoulders and you let out a quiet exhale, turning around so that your body is faced towards him.

despite the difficult few months, Hanma's eyes are as golden as ever: like molten marigolds with a mix of unsweetened honey. he looked a little thinner than the last time you saw him, his hair is shorter than the first time you've met him—the sides are shaved and the blond-black hair sitting atop his crown falls over his forehead so casually. there's even a faint bruise at the corner of his left eye that you'd spotted.