fanfic; cultivation; part 15

[acperience]

▶ Part 14

—

For the next few nights, Minato dreams of flowers and butterflies. He doesn’t know why.

He wishes Lafra were here. Lafra always liked to discuss people’s dreams.

But Lafra isn’t here anymore, though. No one is.

—

A week after he arrived at the orphanage, Minato wakes up early in the morning—earlier than his roommates—with a resolution. Moving as quietly as he can so as to not wake anyone up, he makes his bed, gets dressed, and leaves the room. He walks down the halls, heading over to Miss Kirijo’s office first to see if she’s available to say hi to. He remembers that the last family he was with discussed the possibility of some distant relatives taking him in, so he figures that she’s been busy dealing with that. In any case, she’s certainly been busy with something.

Sure enough, as he peers into the room, she’s talking on the phone. Not available, then.

“—don’t skip work. You know you can’t afford to. Come once you’re done…”

Deciding that it’s not polite to eavesdrop, Minato slips off and heads towards the kitchen.

—

By the time evening falls, Minato has helped prepare lunch, cleaned up two rooms and a hallway, and delivered people’s mail to them within the orphanage. He’s exhausted, but at the very least, he thinks that Tiir would be proud of him right now.

He wonders what Tiir is doing right now.

Probably preparing dinner, or something along those lines. At that, it occurs to Minato that maybe the kitchen could use his help again. With that thought in mind, he gets up from the chair he’s been resting on and begins to move.

He only manages to walk a few steps, however, when a worker approaches him.

“Ah, Minato?” Minato blinks in acknowledgment, as the worker continues. “Sorry if I’m interrupting something, but I need you to come with me.”

“Why?” Minato asks, his tone curious. The worker smiles and leans over.

“I hear you might be getting adopted, kiddo,” the man says. “Isn’t that great? You just have to meet with them today. They’re waiting for you in the lobby.”

“… Oh.”

Then those other relatives are serious, then. Minato tries to decide if he should be excited over this, but as hard as he tries, he can’t seem to muster up anything other than apathy. This has happened one too many times for him to feel anything anymore.

—And, of course, “might” is very different from “will”.

Still, he nods, before following the worker. It’d be nice to meet the family, at least, even if he doubts that he’ll be staying with them for long. If nothing else, he should try to plant the seed.

As Minato walks down the hallways, he looks around him, memorizing the details. Though he knows that it’s not as if he’s about to leave the orphanage now, when the adoption is nothing more than a consideration and this is nothing more than a meeting, he feels he should. If this does go through, then he won’t know when the next time he’ll return to this place is.

The cracks in the paint. The dust on the sides. The way the light shines through that one window. The spider in the corner of the ceiling, resting in its cobweb.

“Goodbye, Spider-san,” Minato says, earning himself a confused glance from the worker, but he pays him no heed.

May you find a home here.

—

The hall where Tiir attacked another boy for insulting him and Walter for not defending him.

The staircase where they found Guriko trying to skip dinner.

The hall where he first met Lafra and Tiir.

Minato wishes a little more could have come out of these memories—more than just memories. Still, he supposes that he’ll just have to take what was given to him. It’s better than nothing, at least.

Miss Kirijo is waiting for them at the entrance to the lobby (where he and Guriko spied on Tiir—), smiling. It’s a genuine sort of smile—brighter than the one she’d shown him last time, when his relatives took him in and away from this place. Minato wonders if she’s in a good mood today.

“Good evening, Minato,” she says. “Are you ready to meet your new family?”

“Yes,” Minato says, tilting his head, as he knows there’s no other answer he’s expected to give. She makes a gesture for him to follow her as she enters the lobby, and so he complies.

All it takes is a few steps into the room, however, and he halts.

The first thing he notices is a stuffed bear, resting on a chair. Brown with a red ribbon tied around its neck, it’s a bit non-descript and not all that high-quality, given that the one who purchased it was not exactly wealthy, but it’s still—

Then Minato’s gaze shifts to the person sitting next to it, legs crossed and looking as if he were at ease with everything in the world. He’s wearing what Minato knows is a suit, albeit with the tie removed, probably to look more casual—an odd choice of clothing, but Minato understands, given that he looks like he just ran all the way here. Even though Minato doesn’t know the directions, he knows from where.

At that moment, he notices Minato and Miss Kirijo, his eyes widening as he stands up from the chair. Then—as Minato wonders if perhaps he’s dreaming—he smiles.

Ah.

If the orphanage building hasn’t changed, then it’s like he’s been frozen in time, because he’s just as Minato remembers down to his smile and—

His first step is shaky, with his second a tad less so. Still, Minato makes his way over to him, his steps slow and growing in steadiness, until he’s standing in front of him. Absent-mindedly, Minato notes that he hasn’t grown at all, as far as Minato can tell, while Minato certainly has.

For a moment, neither of them move. And then, without warning, Minato wraps his arms around the other’s waist, perhaps holding on a bit more tightly than he needs to. A part of him almost expects him to disappear the moment he does, as if he were nothing more than a phantom—a product of Minato’s wishes that he didn’t think would be granted.

It looks like they were, though.

A few seconds pass, before he feels a familiar hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Even though it’s a simple gesture, and he’s hardly the first to do so in a while, Minato’s reminded of how much he missed this.

How much he missed him. It’s been three years too long, and yet it’s not too late.

It’s never too late for this.

—Because it wasn’t that the field couldn’t sustain itself. Rather, the flowers were taking longer to grow, but doesn’t that just make them all the more beautiful when they bloom?

And then finally, with a voice that he knows too well, even though it’s been years—

“It’s been a while, Minato,” Tiir says. “But I promised you, didn’t I? That if you ever came back, I’d be there.”

—

FIN.