fanfic; cultivation; part 6

[acperience]

▶ Part 5

—

In a way, it’s just another day.

“Tiir-nii! Tiir-nii!” At six o’clock in the morning, Guriko burst into Tiir’s room with more energy than most would have at that hour. Fortunately, Tiir is a light sleeper, and so awakens immediately. Blinking the grogginess away a few times, he sits up.

“Guriko…?”

“… Oops. Did Guriko wake up Tiir-nii?” Guriko looks appropriately apologetic.

“You kind of woke up all of us…” Ryner groans, turning over in his bed and covering his ears with his pillow. Tiir pays him no heed—if Sion or Lir had said that, he would’ve chewed them out, but he’ll make an exception for his fellow red-eyed roommate.

“What is it?” Tiir asks, getting out of bed and walking over to her. She merely takes his hand, tugging him along.

“Follow Guriko!”

Laughing quietly, he allows himself to be pulled down the halls, past the children’s scribbles (Minato, for the record, drew a very nice picture of the night sky) towards where he knows Lafra, Walter, and Senel’s room to be.

“Guriko… why—?”

Guriko places a finger on her lips. “Shush, Tiir-nii. Guriko needs you to be quiet… please.”

Tiir obeys, though as it turns out, it’s hardly needed, when another male speaks—

“Guriko…!”

Tiir blinks. “Guriko, what did you—”

He’s interrupted again, however, by Lafra suddenly opening the door.

“Ah, Guriko—I’m sorry, but he somehow knew it was you…” Lafra bows his head sheepishly. “I would run if I were you.”

Not for the first time, Tiir wonders what exactly is going on—though he doesn’t have to wait long, as Walter soon comes skidding out of his room.

“You.” He points a finger at Guriko, not even seeming to notice Tiir’s presence. And it’s then that Tiir finally understands what happened, as he promptly bursts into laughter.

Walter’s face is littered with black doodles—Tiir’s fairly certain he can see an apple on his left cheek and the word “GROUCHY” written on his right. The rest is filled with drawings he can’t make out and scribbles.

Tiir manages to regain his composure quickly enough, though, stepping in between Walter and Guriko, as the former looks as if he’s ready to murder her.

“Calm down, Walter,” he says to him, before looking over his shoulder to Guriko. “And Guriko, you shouldn’t draw on people’s faces.”

—As entertaining as this is.

“And you let her do this?” He looks at Lafra, unable to hide the amusement in his expression. Lafra merely shrugged, grinning.

“It’s all right, Tiir-nii,” Guriko says from behind him, as Tiir turns around. “Guriko made sure not to use a permanent marker. See? It doesn’t say ‘permanent’ anywhere.”

With the same dexterity that she uses to wield her spoons, Guriko suddenly holds up a marker. And certainly, while Tiir can’t see instantly any sign of the word—

“…”

He sighs. “Guriko, would you please move your thumb?”

Complying, Guriko shifts her thumb, still holding onto the marker—and sure enough, where it had been previously concealed, there lies the word.

Permanent.

“…. Oh,” Guriko says, having the decency to at least sound sheepish. “So it is permanent.”

Sensing impending disaster, Tiir quickly goes back to Walter, whose face happens to be turning interesting colours.

“Now, before you try and commit an act of violence…” he begins, with the unspoken “forcing me to stop you” in the air. “… I know a way to wash that out easily enough, so don’t worry.”

He smiles at Lafra. “And you and Guriko might wish to flee, as you suggested.”

“Sure thing,” Lafra says, pulling Guriko with him as he leaves. Guriko offers no resistance, though once she’s down the hall, she calls back—

“Guriko is sorry, Grouchy! A little, anyway!”

As the anger reignites itself in Walter’s expression, Tiir wordlessly starts to drag Walter down the hallway in the opposite direction. Walter, unlike Guriko, struggles—but unfortunately for him, between him and Tiir, there’s no question as to who’s stronger.

—

“So how’s Walter’s face?” Lafra asks Tiir as they help out with breakfast.

“Better,” Tiir replies, smiling. “Though Guriko should probably avoid him for the next while, nevertheless.”

Lafra laughs, reaching into the cupboard to pull out a box of cereal, before he pause and looks back at Tiir.

“By the way,” he says, catching Tiir’s attention again. Tiir blinks, waiting for him to continue.

Lafra places a card into his hands.

“Happy birthday, Tiir.”

“Eh?” Tiir says on reflex, before pausing. “… Ah, that’s right, it’s…”

“Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I did,” Tiir admits. “Thank you, though.”

He assumes that that’s the end of it, as he gets out the cutlery, before Lafra makes a thoughtful hum and asks—

“Do Minato and Guriko know?”

Though it seems like an innocent enough question, Tiir can catch the underlying heaviness in it. He stops, placing the forks on the counter, as he stares down at it.

“Why would they?” Tiir answers. “It’s hardly important, anyway.”

“It’s your birthday,” Lafra says. Tiir shrugs.

“And?” Tiir continues retrieving the cutlery, simultaneously not seeing the point in this conversation while knowing where Lafra’s going with it.

As his best friend, he likes Lafra plenty—cares for him as a brother, even—but there are times where he wishes that Lafra didn’t know him as he does. Now is one of them.

“I think they’d like to know, Tiir,” he says—lightly still, but they both know it’s not a simple suggestion.

It’s a pity that Tiir has never been good at following people’s suggestions either way. He smiles wryly.

“It’s not exactly important.”

Because it isn’t. It’s just another day—that’s all it’s ever been to Tiir. At most, it’s a countdown. He’s never had a reason to celebrate, and he doesn’t why he should start now, simply because of Minato and Guriko’s presences.

Once more, there’s silence, with Tiir futilely wishing for that to be it—but of course, after a few moments, Lafra speaks up again, his tone sadder this time.

“You know, Tiir,” he says. “Even if you aren’t happy that you were born… we are.”

Tiir doesn’t echo his thoughts at that.

—They’re the only ones who would be.

—

Despite the talk, Lafra doesn’t mention it to Minato or Guriko, who recounts her adventures of drawing on Walter’s face to Minato while Walter digs into his breakfast a bit too harshly. True enough, as Tiir said, the marker has been mostly washed off his face, though traces still remain.

“They’ll come out soon enough,” Tiir promises, barely stifling a smile.

—

Minato knows something is off.

And by the way Guriko pulls him into a corner, it seems he’s not the only one.

“Tiir-nii and Lafra are hiding something,” she declares. Minato simply nods, content to let her speculate out loud.

“Furthermore, something is troubling Tiir-nii. He hides it very well, but nothing escapes Guriko’s eyes,” Guriko continues. Minato nods again.

It’s nice, he thinks. This is probably what it’s like to have a big sister—none of his foster sisters really talked with him much. Granted, he didn’t talk to them much either.

He didn’t connect much with any of his foster family, to be frank. It was probably for the best, seeing as how none of them lasted anyway.

“… And that is why,” Guriko says, apparently oblivious to how Minato has zoned out. “We’re going to follow him.”

“… Why?” Minato asks, unsure if Guriko actually explained previously or if this is another one of her strange, sudden ideas. He doesn’t mind going along with what she says, any more than he minds anything, but having a few answers would be nice.

“To find out what’s wrong,” Guriko answers. “If we follow him long enough, we might find out why.”

Minato nods again. It makes sense. Sort of.

“But we have to be very secretive about it, Minato,” Guriko tells him. “We don’t want Tiir-nii finding out.”

“Why?” Minato asks again.

“Because Guriko said so,” Guriko says, and that’s the end of that.

—

In all honesty, Minato isn’t expecting much from this—but against all odds, they find their answers rather quickly.

Lunchtime is approaching as they stalk Tiir down the halls from a distance, as quiet as they can be—and for Minato, being silent requires no effort at all. The fact that they’ve been at this for a few hours doesn’t deter him much either. He’s happy simply to spend time with Guriko, even if it means following Tiir, who’s done nothing but chores around the orphanage so far.

Guriko, likewise, sets about her task with determination that hasn’t wavered since the start of this, despite a few close calls where she almost tripped over Minato (“Why is Minato so tiny?” she asked, to which Minato had no answer). Even now, gripping the wall, she stares straight ahead at Tiir in the lobby, as if expecting an answer to her question to appear out of thin air.

And it does—in the form of Miss Kirijo, who approaches Tiir. While Guriko and Minato too far away to hear, not helped by the fact that both the woman and Tiir speak in quiet tones, it’s hard to miss her handing Tiir an envelope.

“A letter!” Guriko whispers, as if Minato can’t see for himself. He nods anyway.

Tiir’s back is to them, so they can’t see his reaction, but the gesture of him opening it and pulling out the note from inside is unmistakable.

“Thank you,” Minato can hear him say—though Tiir’s tone, while polite, is anything but grateful. Miss Kirijo nods, before exiting. After a few moments, Tiir also leaves, though fortunately not down the hall where Guriko and Minato are hiding.

“After him!” Guriko hisses, slinking down the hall and into the lobby, with Minato trailing behind her. Again, all that can be seen is Tiir’s back, but just as before, there’s no doubt as to what he’s doing—as he tears the letter apart into pieces and tosses it and the envelope into a nearby trash can.

Minato can feel Guriko freeze, as her grip tightens on his shoulder. A few moments pass, as they wait for Tiir to disappear completely, before Guriko heads down the hall, not bothering to wait for Minato.

“Tiir-nii was very thorough,” Guriko tells him once he reaches her, showing him the ripped letter in her hands. Indeed, Tiir seemed to have torn the letter beyond readability—though parts of letters can be seen, Minato certainly can’t make out any words at a glance.

He pulls out the envelope, only to note that it’s entirely blank. Whoever it’s from didn’t mail it, but instead handed it straight to the orphanage.

“But Tiir-nii underestimated us,” Guriko says. “Come with me.”

As he follows her once more, Minato doesn’t bother to point out that Tiir probably didn’t mean for them to gather, for all intents and purposes, his trash.

—

The two place their prize of sorts on the table where, just a few days ago, they’d been playing Monopoly with the others. Dumping the shreds of paper on the wooden surface, Guriko spreads them out.

“We don’t have to worry about the blank pieces,” Guriko says, picking up one of said blank pieces and tossing to the ground, before repeating the process.

Though he isn’t sure if that’s the best method of disposing them, Minato follows suit until they have nothing but bits with pen lines. From there, it’s simply another puzzle.

It doesn’t take long before Guriko manages to form a few letters, which she displays proudly.

“There! ‘Ha’…” She points to the pieces she arranged, showing, as she said, a neat ‘H’ and ‘a’. To that, Minato attaches two more pieces, forming ‘Hap’.

Minato isn’t sure how many minutes have passed by before he and Guriko finish, both staring at the message that lies on the table. The pieces are crooked, resulting in less than tidy sentences, despite the clear writing, but the words are still very much legible.

Happy birthday.

I’m sorry.

There’s a moment of silence, before Guriko breaks it.

“It’s Tiir-nii’s birthday?” she says, asking the question that’s on Minato’s mind as well. He doesn’t respond, which is just as well, as it doesn’t seem that Guriko is finished.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” She stares down at the letter, her mouth pressed in a tight line, looking torn between sad and hurt. “Guriko would’ve wanted to know that kind of thing.”

“… Guriko?” Minato says. He can understand wanting to know—he would’ve liked to know as well—but somehow, he doubts that such an expression comes from Tiir’s neglecting to mention such a detail.

Guriko looks up, apparently snapping back from her thoughts, before she looks at Minato.

“… It’s nothing,” she says. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Minato can’t help but worry, even if his face doesn’t show it. Instead of directly pressing the matter, however, he asks the first thing that comes to mind.

“… When is your birthday?”

“The second of July,” Guriko answers. “Not for a while. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

… Ah.

Minato wonders if perhaps Tiir thought the same way.

And speaking of which—

“Guriko? Minato?”

The people in question whirl around—or rather, Guriko does. Minato turns around calmly to see Tiir standing at the doorway.

“It’s lunch. Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

“N-No…” Guriko says, glancing back at the torn letter, before she edges towards Minato, presumably to create a wall.

“But you have to leave now, Tiir-nii!”

Tiir blinks. “… Why?”

“… Because!” Guriko says, pointing a spoon at him. “Tiir-nii can’t be here! Shoo—no. No, don’t shoo. Guriko and Minato will accompany you to lunch. That is what Guriko means.”

“Ah… all right?”

Guriko stands up with Minato, still close to him as they walk over to Tiir. As they head down to the dining room, Minato sees Guriko stare at Tiir’s back, the question undoubtedly at the tip of her tongue.

And yet, she says nothing. Minato watches another unspoken thought fall.

—

“Really… they should know by now to clean up after themselves.” Tiir smiles dryly at the torn letter on the table and the pieces on the floor, before crouching down to pick them up.

“… I should’ve burned the damn thing.”

—

▶ Part 7