Chapter Twenty-Six

A/N: *gasps for air* This chapter took forever!! I hope I did it justice. Also this Tumblr post does a good job speaking about the goal I have with my fic.

- - - -

Mika's Backstory

March 18th, 1851

The first time Mikaela Shindo ran away, he was seven years old.

It was a chilly evening, still late winter, nearly at the breaking point of when spring bloomed in front of his eyes. But the changing weather patterns were the last thing on his mind as Mika scrambled through his house, dodging the furniture left and right to escape the man chasing him.

"Get back here, you little bastard," Mika's father (if he could even call him that) slurred, a whiskey bottle in one hand and a cigar between his lips. He was so wasted he could barely walk properly, let alone chase Mika through the house.

As he stumbled through the house, he crashed the bottle on the side of a table, which made the alcohol splatter across the surface and drip down to the floor into a tiny pool of liquid. "Now look what you did!" He screamed, throwing the broken bottle at Mika. Though his coordination was off, the bottle managed to graze Mika's neck, just below his ear, slicing through skin. Mika cried out, clamping his hand to the cut and fighting back tears.

This slowed him down enough for his father to catch him, grabbing his wrists and twisting them behind Mika's back painfully. He shouted out in in pain, begging for mercy.

"You little shit, running away from your pop," He hissed into Mika's ear, his breath reeking of alcohol and smoke. "I oughta teach you a lesson," He decided, taking the cigar from his lips and pressing the burning end into Mika's arm, eliciting a blood-curdling scream.

Mika was no match physically for his father, so he couldn't pull away. Instead, he did the next best thing he could; twist his body backwards and bite his father's arm, causing him to jump back and roar in anger. Mika took this as his single chance to escape, making a run for it.

Mika dashed into his bedroom, a tiny, closet-sized space in the end of the ranch-style home, just barely managing to crawl under the bed before his father burst inside, yelling for him.

"You can't hide from me!" The father bellowed before he tripped over his own two feet, cursed loudly, and fell to the ground in a loud thud, promptly hitting his head on the floor with a sickening crack.

Mika squinted from the darkness under his bed, trying to see if he had fallen unconscious. He waited there for what felt like an infinitely long five minutes before daring to creep out from under the bed.

Brushing the cobwebs and dust bunnies off him, he knelt by his father, who had smashed in his chin and had a trail of blood and spit pooling out of his mouth. The sight itself was grotesque enough, not to mention his nose was crooked at a disgustingly weird angle. Mika couldn't bring himself to feel for his pulse and instead found himself running; he ran into his closet and dug around for the emergency bag he packed for this occasion. He then ran out of the bedroom, into his father's and taking all the money he kept hidden under his mattress. Shoving it into his coat pocket, he rushed out of the house, feeling the chilly night air on his skin.

With no destination in mind, he kept running, faster than he ever had in his entire seven years of life, not ceasing to stop until he was so far away from his so-called home he wouldn't remember how to get back home.

In the newspapers next week, his father had been proclaimed dead in his home, with the cause of death being head trauma.

- - - -

December 9th, 1851

Mika lived on the streets of the old royal town he grew up in, Kaelidia, for an unknown out of time. Every day consisted of trying to survive, living out of trash cans and whatever he could scrape up. The money stash he had stolen from his father eventually ran out. His possessions consisted of an old, ratty blanket, the same emergency backpack (now covered in dirt and fraying on the straps) full of two pairs of clothes, a toothbrush, and toothpaste, and a small bottle he used to store water.

He lived in an abandoned shoe store, which had gone business over ten years ago as industrialization and manufacturing became popular. It was cold, and the windows had long since been smashed and poorly boarded up again with rotting wood, but it was much better than living on the streets.

Mika's sole companion was an old alley cat that came into the store sometimes and mewled impatiently for food. As hungry as he would, he'd always share whatever food scraps he'd salvaged with the old cat, who he named Fuyu after her fur, which was white as snow. Mika would talk to her sometimes, admittedly, because it got so lonely in the old shoe shop and he had been in his own head for so long he felt like it was alright to confide in the pet.

Fuyu returned one night, after Mika had gone out for the evening to find dinner. She meowed at him like usual, to which Mika replied "Sorry, Fuyu-chan, I didn't find enough food for both of us tonight."

She practically narrowed her eyes and hopped up on the front counter, where Mika's blanket and backpack usually stayed. Mika sighed, shaking his head. He threw a half-eaten piece of takoyaki at her, and she sniffed it, pawing at it before deciding she was too hungry to be picky and nibbled on the food.

His skinny legs swinging over the giant shoe-shining chair, Mika watched Fuyu curl up in a ball on his blanket. Her bright eyes - one blue, one green - watched him carefully, clearly not trusting the boy enough yet. Eventually, when he didn't move, the cat closed her eyes and feel asleep.

Mika heard his stomach rumble and decided he'd go out looking for something else to eat. He'd gone to bed hungry before, but tonight he wanted to feel full for a change. Hopping off the chair, Mika grabbed his backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and headed out into the village to see what he could find.

The best place to look for food scraps was the dumpster behind the most famous restaurant in the village, La Café Du Mer. Mika had no idea what it meant, considering he didn't speak French, but he did know that place served prime rib and steaks and if he timed it properly, he could find leftovers that had been dumped out back.

Mika waited in the shadows of the alley behind the restaurant, knowing he had to time it just perfectly. He'd observed the patterns of the restaurant workers for months now, and they took out the trash every night around ten in the evening.

When the city clock struck ten, sending ten sonorous rings through the village, Mika felt his heart lurch in anticipation, beating rapidly. Sure enough, after a minute a teenage boy dressed in busboy attire came out back, lugging a large trash bag filled with what was hopefully, Mika's future dinner, and an oil lamp in his other hand.

But Mika must've gotten too excited, because he took a step forward and stepped on something sticky, making a surprised noise.

"Who's there?" The busboy shouted into the night, looking in the direction of the cry. Mika covered his mouth, biting his lip as to not make another sound. He dropped the bag of trash and started to move in Mika's direction. Mika tried to slink further into the shadows, but was too late as the boy had already held up his lamp in front of him, lighting Mika up in a soft orange glow. "Hey! You can't be back here!"

Mika was too shocked to say anything in response, but he took a scared step back, stumbling over his untied shoelace and thudding to the cobblestone ground. He inhaled sharply, pain shooting up his back.

"This is private property, kid!" The busboy continued to yell at him, marching closer. He was just about to grab Mika's arm when someone grabbed his instead.

"Hey!" An unknown voice shouted. "Onii-chan, you disappeared! I thought I lost you! How did you get back here?"

Mika looked up at the source of the voice. It was a girl, probably just a year or two younger than him, dressed in a simple powder blue dress that went past her knees and slip-on shoes. Her brown hair was pulled into a tight side braid that spilled over her left shoulder and secured with a hot pink elastic. Her eyes, chocolate brown bright with innocence, were watching the busboy intently.

"Uhh-" He could only manage to say, his words stuck in his throat.

"Both of you, get lost!" The busboy shouted, pointing towards the exit of the alley. "Go on, scram! If I ever see your faces again, I'll get the police!"

"Right! Sorry, mister! We'll be on our way now!" The girl squeaked, grasping Mika's hand tightly in hers and pulling him to his feet. Without saying another word, she ran off, taking him with her. They turned the corner and rushed down the street, pausing to catch their breath at the street corner.

The girl was studying him carefully, trying to figure him out. Mika, who felt intimidated by her intense gaze, shrunk down and looked away. He thought about thanking her for saving him, but nerves overtook his sense of reason and he bit his lip to keep quiet, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"So, it certainly was lucky that I was passing by!" She spoke for him, smiling cheerfully. "What were you doing back there, anyways? Shouldn't you be at hom-" She stopped talking as she took in the details out of his outfit. Her eyes raked up and down his body, seeing his dirty hair, tattered clothes, and worn-out, too-small sneakers. "Are you homeless?" She asked bluntly, not caring if it was tasteless or rude, and Mika realized he liked that honesty about her.

He found himself nodding, and she frowned, as if she didn't like that answer.

"It's too cold to live alone on the streets! You should come live with me and my family," The girl suggested brightly. "They took me in last year, I'm sure they'd take care of you too."

Mika was hesitant, and took a shaky step back. If there was anything he's learned throughout the half year he's lived on the streets, it's that you can't trust anyone. Plus, what kind of five year old girl walks along the night streets alone, anyway?

"Come on!" She tugged at his hand once again. "Our home is pretty close by. Don't worry, you'll fit right in with everyone else."

Mika remained unmoving, staring at the girl helplessly. The girl noticed his petrified look and dropped her grasp on his hand, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What's wrong?" She asked. "Are you scared?"

"No," Mika retorted defensively. He turned away again, this time defiantly, watching the people rush back and forth on the busy streets. A carriage rushed by, blowing a gust of wind on his face.

"Hey, so you can speak!" She grinned, looking pleased with herself. "I thought you were mute or something. By the way, what's your name? How old are you? What were you doing back there, anyways?"

Intimidated by all the questions, he only managed to answer the first one. "...Mikaela." Mika eventually told her, wondering if he should've made up a fake name to conceal his identity, and slightly regretted telling her the truth so quickly.

"Mikaela-chan! What a cute name! I'm Akane. I'm six and a half! Don't forget the half! I'll I promise my family will take good care of you." She offered him a soft smile and extended her hand. Mika finally met eyes with her, and noticed how brightly they shined with sincerity. An unknown feeling arose in Mika's chest, and he realized there was no faking such an honest expression such as that.

What did he have to lose, anyway?

Mika nodded, accepting Akane's hand and squeezing it before following her down the dimly lit streets. He stared at the cracks in the sidewalk, stepping over each one to entertain himself and simultaneously avoid looking at Akane. She was the type who walked with purpose; even at the small age of six, she walked with such confidence, her hands swinging by her sides and her head held high. She spoke excitedly too, like she had so many words she was afraid she wouldn't get to say them all before she ran out of breath

Mika couldn't remember the last time someone had talked to him, let alone someone his age, and it bothered him. He was so used to living in his head now, having lived in silence for nearly a year since he'd ran away.

They turned a couple corners, eventually stopping in front of an old building at the end of the block. It was built like the rest of the city; bricks and mortar built up two narrow storeys, with clouded, arched windows, and smokestacks on the uneven roof. A small metal plaque, nailed above the wooden door, read Hyakuya Orphanage, Est. 1763 in blocked scripture. Mika hesitantly followed Akane up the front steps, clutching tightly to his backpack straps and taking in the size of the building. She knocked loudly with the brass door handle, turning to Mika with a flourish of her hand.

"Welcome to Hyakuya Orphanage!" She introduced. "Where everyone is welcome."

Welcome, Mika mused. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt welcome.

The door was pulled open before he could even consider responding, revealing an old woman. She couldn't have been a day less than fifty, with her grayed hair swept up into a low bun at the base of her neck, save for two strands that framed her face. Mika realized she was the type of woman who still held on to her beauty, and must've been stunning when she was twenty years younger. She looked relieved to see Akane at her doorstep, her sagging face turning into a grateful smile.

"There you are! You've been gone for too long! What have I told you about staying out too late?" She scolded, taking her into a hug.

"Sorry, Oba-chan," Akane ducked her head. She handed the woman a package, which Mika just realized she had been holding. "Here's the milk you wanted me to buy."

"Thank you dearie. I see you've brought a friend!" She finally turned her attention towards Mika, smiling warmly at him. Kneeling down, her knees popped as she went to his level. "And who might you be?"

"This is Mikaela," Akane introduced Mika for him, putting her hand on Mika's shoulder and patting it twice. "He doesn't talk much. I found him on my way home. He doesn't have a home."

"Then it looks like he's come to the right place," The old woman agreed, extending her hand out to Mika. "Welcome, Mikaela-chan. We hope you'll join our family."

Mika stared at her hand, almost as if he didn't know how to handshake. Rolling his lower lip under his teeth, he debated his options: join this so-called family of strangers, which could either go really well or really badly, or turn around and forget it all happened, knowing the person he could always rely on was himself. The woman's hand remained outstretched, and her smile was so cheerful and kind Mika felt a wall inside of him break.

"Okay," He whispered, taking her hand.

- - - -

October 15th, 1854

The next three years were, admittedly, the best of his life.

Akane's words from that cold winter night proved to be true: everyone was welcome. And welcomed he was; the group of orphans accepted him as one of them the moment they met him, making him an honorary member of the Hyakuya family.

There was Mai, who was a year younger than Akane, who loved to read. Her long black hair always covered her face, her glasses slipping down her nose as she buried them into book after book. She was a quiet girl too, preferring the company of fictional characters and poetry than talking.

The twins, Haru and Natsu, were both barely three years old and the babies of the group. They were left on the doorstep just a few weeks after Mika first arrived swaddled in a light pink blanket in a basket. Haru, the boy, had dark black hair like a raven's feathers, whereas Natsu, the girl, had beautiful pink hair, like the blush of dawn. The two relied on each other heavily, often fidgety and cranky, but when they grabbed each other's hands, they always fell asleep next to each other in their crib.

Reina, the oldest of the bunch, was a twelve year old girl who loved to sing. She sang while she did her chores around the orphanage, in the bath, when she played with the baby twins, and anytime someone would listen to her. She had a dream to learn to play the piano, but the orphanage could not afford one so she played with her tiny keyboard instead. Sometimes she even did little performances for the kids, who looked forward to the new songs she wrote.

And lastly was the only other boy in the orphanage, Ryou. Like Mika, he ran away, but he never told Mika why he chose to do so. Mika never asked why, just like he never asked about the scars on Ryou's back, his speech impediment, or the reason why he walked with a limp in his right leg. Still, the two became good friends, and they had to share a room (and a bunk bed) in the tiny orphanage. Ryou was the shy type, but slowly opened up to Mika and he realized that Ryou loved hearing bad jokes and loved telling them even more.

Mika himself opened up as well. He had gone from the quiet, probably-on-the-brink-of-insanity seven-year-old to a cheerful, extraverted ten-year-old. As he no longer had to prioritize his safety and whether or not he'd go to bed with food in his stomach, he learned to laugh more, let loose, and be himself.

The orphans were a rowdy bunch, a bunch of misfits that wouldn't typically fit together if it weren't for their misfortunes and sheer coincidence. Still, Mika couldn't imagine a better family to grow up with, and he was so proud to call them that.

Mika had it all mentally planned out; they'd grow up with their foster mother, who they called Oba-chan, eventually living in their own houses down the street from each other when they became adults. Mika wanted to go to university too, to become a schoolteacher like his mother was before she passed away. Until then, Oba-chan taught them all the education they needed to know; math, science, reading, and writing. Mika loved science the most, and begged Oba-chan for more and more books – textbooks on physics, chemistry, and biology - anything he could get his hands on. Homeschooling worked out well for the bunch, who could study the basics as a group but also learn the things they were interested in during their free time.

Life had become routine, but routine was comfortable for Mika. He preferred routine; with routine, there were no surprises, no setbacks. He did his morning chores, his studies with the others, played with the other kids, cooked dinner with Oba-chan, and read under candlelight late into the night.

It was when that routine broke that made everything fall apart.

October fifteenth: the day that Mika never saw coming. It was an evening like any other; Mika had finished the dishes and was looking for Oba-chan to play cards with him and Akane. She had recently taught him to play poker, and Mika had immediately taken a liking to the game. Oba-chan had always commented how cunning he was, using his boyish charm to bluff and outsmart his opponents.

Mika flipped through the deck of cards, faded with continual use, with his thumb absentmindedly, humming as he walked up the old staircase to Oba-chan's bedroom on the second floor. Her door was kept open when he approached it, something she never did. Mika knocked hesitantly, his knuckles lightly rapping against the wood three times. When he heard no response, he felt uneasy, knowing immediately that something was wrong.

"Oba-chan?" Mika whispered, daring to push the door open wider, just enough to poke his head in. "Do you want to come play-"

The cards fell from his grip, spilling all over the floor. Diamonds and spades littered the ground, hearts and clubs fluttered through the air. Mika dashed through the mess, rushing to Oba-chan's bedside.

She had collapsed on her bed, her hand clutched to her chest tightly. Mika couldn't even tell what had happened; the only thing on his mind was how horrified he was. Her body, previously filled with life, looked sickeningly pale and frail.

"Oba-chan!" Mika screamed, shaking her shoulder. She was so cold- her skin was so clammy and the very touch made him recoil in surprise and disgust. "Hey!"

Her unresponsiveness made him start to cry worriedly. "Come on, Oba-chan!" He shouted, his tears falling off his face and landing on the crumpled bed sheets. His hands shook as he jostled her harder.

"Please!" He begged, his voice raw with desperation. "Wake up!"

She had died in her sleep at the unexpected age of sixty-four.

- - - -

The second time Mikaela Shindo ran away, he left the one place he could safely call home, yet looking back, he didn't regret it at all.

The police had been alerted quickly following Oba-chan's death after Mika rushed to call them on the telegram, barely able to type in the letters as his fingers shook so harshly.

What came next was something no one talks about after a police case. The police cared little about the emotions of the distraught children; instead, they spent the next several hours interrogating them about any information they could provide: her name, her medical history, any symptoms they had noticed, time of death, the list goes on. Reina held the twins in their arms, who slept peacefully, blissfully ignorant of the tragedy. Ryou had gone silent again, tracing circles into his skin with his finger and refusing to speak to anyone. Mai, who was huddled in a blanket, was too hysterical to answer any questions about Oba-san.

Akane, who tightly clutched Mika's hand, gave any information the police officers asked. Mika wished someday he could stand strongly like Akane did, looking up to the intimating, faceless police officers and calmly explained the situation. She'd already defended him countless times, not to mention saving him all those years ago, and Mika felt like a younger brother even though he was a year older. Mika practically hid behind her, not able to bring himself to look into their soulless eyes.

The police then began to explain their fate in complex words Mika didn't fully understand. He caught words like government and institution, which did not sound like a friendly solution to the problem. The children had to pack all their possessions into their backpacks and be prepared to leave the Hyakuya Orphanage forever.

"They're splitting us up," Akane whispered as Mika put his crayons into a zippered pocket in his bag. "The boys and the girls. We have to go to different orphanages."

Mika's eyes bulged fearfully. "I don't want us to be apart," He begged. "Please don't leave me."

"I'll never leave your side, Mikaela," Akane promised him. She held up her pinky, silently asking Mika to offer his. They interlocked their pinky fingers and made the wordless promise to stick together.

And so they did; that night, when the police officers went upstairs to find the two, they were greeted with nothing but an open window, the night breeze making the curtains dance in the moonlit room.

- - - -

June 22nd, 1855

The third time Mikaela Shindo ran away, he punched someone in the face (and he wasn't going to lie, it was satisfying as hell).

Instead of going to different orphanages in different kingdoms, Akane and Mika stumbled their way into a foster home in Bruxberg after illegally hopping on a cargo train headed south.

The fact that they were so easily accepted into this institution without notice or paperwork should've shot some serious red flags. But innocent children will be oblivious, and they'll take any help they can get in desperate situations.

The foster home, the Kyoto Institute, felt more like a prison for children than a place filled with love and compassion for unfortunate kids. The foster mother practically used the children as her personal slaves; she made them scrub the appliances, wash the floors, do the laundry, garden around the building, and anything else that she could think of. Not only that, but she treated them like dirt, giving them only one full meal a day (which was only given if they finished all their chores).

Mika fell asleep each night exhausted, his legs sore, his skin sunburnt from the sweltering heat, and his palms blistering from the strenuous work he endured.

Mika was the type who never would subject himself to defeat from something as trivial as housekeeping chores. He worked all day and even all night if he had to, especially on days where Akane was feeling too faint to work under the hot sun. Mika didn't mind taking on the extra work; he owed everything to her, after all.

There was no doubt the foster mother was a tyrant. But that wasn't going to stop Mika from doing everything he physically could to keep Akane safe.

Which is why he ended up doing something he didn't regret one bit: punching the foster mother in her ugly face.

Mika hadn't even intended to do it in the first place. He'd never hit another person in his life, not since his father first whipped him and he promised himself he'd never end up like his deadbeat, abusive dad.

But watching as the mother yelled at Akane for breaking a ceramic plate, kicking her to the ground to pick up the broken pieces. Mika watched with horror and disgust as Akane fought back tears, whimpering as one of the shards cut into her hand. Blood oozed from her palm to the floor.

"Now look what you did!" She screamed. "Staining the newly-mopped floor! You klutz! No dinner tonight!"

Akane bit her lip, squeezing her fingers into a fist to stop the blood flow. This only caused her more pain, however, and she hissed in pain. She moved to pick up pieces with her uninjured hand.

"Work faster, maggot!" The foster mother commanded.

"Hey!" Mika finally shouted, stepping around the corner. "Don't talk to her like that!"

"This doesn't concern you, shrimp," She snarled. "Go back to weeding the garden."

"I finished it," Mika growled, tossing the gardening gloves on the counter. "Don't you have any compassion? She's bleeding! She needs medical attention!"

"It's just a little bit of blood, it'll heal," The foster mother waved him off dismissively. "If you're so adamant on helping her, then you pick up the ceramic. I have more important things to do than bicker with a mere child."

Her too-high heels clicked, probably destroying the old wooden floor (she was a walking hypocrite – she complained about some blood and yet poked holes into the ground). She didn't even get ten steps before Mika was lunging for her, shouting for her to stop.

"What?" She shouted frustratedly.

The response she received was a right hook to her nose, a sickening crack echoing throughout the tiny kitchen. The foster mother screeched in pain, cupping her nose and looking at Mika with an expression with so much malice he thought he would catch on fire.

"You little bitch!" She screamed, removing her hand. There was blood dripping down her nose in a thick stream of ruby red. Mika shook out his hand, feeling satisfied with himself.

"Ma'am, it's just a little blood!" He said haughtily, mimicking her highfalutin accent. "It'll heal. Probably."

And with that, he rushed to Akane's side, taking her hand in his.

"Hey," He said quietly, as if not to scare her. "You okay?"

Akane was most definitely not okay. Her face was so ghostly pale, it was nearly white. The blood had drained from her peach skin to her hand, which had dripped into a thick puddle on the floor. She looked dizzy, like she would faint if she lost another drop.

"Mika-" She whispered, clutching her wrist tightly. "I have to tell you something."

"Yeah?" Mika blinked.

"I have-"

But she couldn't finish that sentence, because the foster mother had charged for Mika like a bull and had grabbed him, one hand by the ear and the other by the hood of his jacket, yanking him up to his feet violently.

"You," She hissed, pulling him to her eye level. Mika screamed, his skinny legs dangling in the air. He kicked them wildly, trying to get her to drop him. "You need to be set straight. Come with me."

She dragged him into one of the locked rooms in the basement. After whipping him with a belt, she left him in the dark room all night with no food or water. Mika slept on the hard floor, worrying more about what Akane wanted to tell him than his own wellbeing.

When the door finally cracked open again, Mika squinted his eyes at the sight of the too-bright sunlight. He mumbled something incomprehensible, too confused to make out the figure standing in the door.

"Mikaela?" A voice whispered. It sounded rushed, like they were afraid for their life.

"Mmm?" Mika groaned, holding his head, which had a throbbing ache from sleeping on the floor. "Akane? Is that you?"

"Come on," Akane tossed him his old backpack, packed with his things. Mika only barely caught it, the air knocked out of him when the pack smacked into his chest. "We're leaving."

"Leaving?" Mika echoed. He blinked a couple time, and the grainy image of Akane fizzled into a clear picture. One hand was on her hip, the other was clutching to her own backpack strap determinedly. There was a bandage wrapped around her injured hand, and her face was no longer discolored.

"Yes. Leaving," Akane nodded. "We're running away." She entered the tiny room and helped Mika to his feet, which wobbled with imbalance and hesitation before he grounded himself. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, turning his gaze to Akane again.

"Where are we going?" He questioned.

Akane smiled brightly. Her smile, like the sun, shone rays of happiness into Mika like it always did. "I was thinking the circus," She answered immediately. "I've always wanted to be an acrobat."

"How cliché of us," Mika joked.

"I don't hear you complaining," Akane rolled her eyes playfully. "Now, come on. Let's get out of here before she wakes up. I may have left something in her bed as a parting gift."

Mika didn't even have time to ask what it was, because Akane had already taken his hand and was pulling him through the trap door in the basement for them to escape the orphanage. Just as they were about to close the door, they heard the bloodcurdling scream of the foster mother.

"R-r-rat!" She screeched, her voice echoing throughout the home.

"Quick! Close it!" Akane demanded through her giggles. Mika pulled the trap door shut and secured the padlock on it before running through the garden, laughing all along the way.

- - - -

April 1st, 1857

The fourth time Mika ran away, he ran away from his worst enemy; himself.

One would think running away to join the circus would be all fun and games. Traveling the country, performing extreme, seemingly impossible acts for entertainment, and finally fitting in with all the other freaks of the kingdom. Sounds like a dream, right?

Mika soon realized that being a part of the circus was hell in itself.

He quickly came to terms that he wasn't as physically fit as one had to be to be an acrobat. Sure he was skinny, but that was merely a result of lack of nourishment. He had some physical ability from the tyrannical Kyoto Institution, but not nearly enough in comparison to the other freaks and weirdos of the Bathory Travelling Circus act. Hence the reason why he spent his first six months being the choreboy of the circus, getting water for the performers, cleaning out the outhouse, and anything else the ringmaster, Ferid Bathory, wanted him to do.

Ferid Bathory was, in a word, eccentric. He was the type of person that always had a crazy glint in his eye, like he was just a couple steps away from going insane. His long silver hair was always pulled tightly into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, tucked under an obnoxiously large top hat. He was always in his performance outfit, his shiny tuxedo with his silver bow tie and the faux-diamond-topped cane. Mika didn't think he was that bad, just a bit weird. He tried to stay out of Ferid's way by complying to his directions. Sure, the chores were tedious, but the acrobat training once a week made it bearable, and after half a year he had been cast into the show as a minor part of the trapeze scene.

His fellow acrobats were two men in their early twenties, both runaways as well, who and been with the circus company for over ten years. Lacus and René were their names; their parents, best friends while they were alive, were French immigrants from the Napoleonic wars and came all the way to Japan to keep their newborns safe. They talked in French when they thought Mika wasn't listening or when they didn't want him to hear what they were saying. Spending so much time with them allowed Mika to pick up on some French of his own.

The trapeze act was a grandiose act that happened right before the intermission. Lacus and René had dozens of flips, twists, and spins. Mika's part came in when Lacus swung back to the platform, grabbed Mika's hands, and flipped him in the air until he grabbed onto René's feet, twisting in the air before landing on the platform on the other side.

It was a complicated move, but it was the only one Mika ever had, and he wanted to nail it when the time of the performance came.

So he worked day and night, finishing his chores as quickly as he could so he could train on the trapeze, practice his grappling skills, flipping his body, and twisting quickly enough to land solidly on the platform. He would fail more often than succeed, and he'd fly down and land on the spongy net thirty feet below them. It was frustrating, but it made him want to succeed more, so he'd climb the ladder to the platform with more determination than he had previously and tried again and again.

Meanwhile, Akane had been accepted into the routine within a few weeks. She was a fabric acrobat; an extremely hard form of acrobatics and dance that took as much physical strength as it did mental. Akane practiced core and upper body workouts daily, always practicing her choreographed routine until it was perfect.

Instead of one of the senior dancers mentoring her, guiding her through the process and helping her improve, Ferid Bathory himself would monitor her progress.

A little too closely, in Mika's opinion.

"Excellent work, Akane-chan," Bathory cooed, nodding in approval as Akane slid down the silky red cloth, her foot looping around it to catch her in a side split, her arms flying out to pose for her final move. "Perhaps stretch a bit further and more slowly to elongate the finale." He stared at her legs as she unraveled her foot from the cloth and dropped to the floor effortlessly.

"Thank you, Bathory-san," She bowed her head respectfully. "And I certainly will."

Bathory was slow to responding to her graciousness, his eyes lingering on her body before clearing his throat. "Good," He nodded. "Please take a break. You've been working very hard."

Akane, who was oblivious to his hungry stare, smiled gratefully before heading to the back of the circus tent to where the water pitcher was stored in ice. Bathory obviously kept his eyes on her developing curves as she walked away, hardly noticing Mika was nearby, seeing the whole interaction unfold.

This had been going on for a few months now. At first, Bathory was just being a little too sweet to Akane, like he was giving her special treatment for being the newbie. But special treatment turned to sexual innuendos, touches to "fix" her form, and watching her as she stretched or practiced from afar when she wasn't aware.

Mika picked up on it almost immediately, and it made him hate Bathory with a passion. He wanted to run away, just like he always did, but he could see in the way she danced that Akane was happy in the traveling circus. Having took gymnastics and dance in her younger years, she'd always had a calling for dance. She moved so fluidly, like ribbon in the wind, and the world dissolved when she went into her element.

Mika knew he couldn't take away the only thing that has made Akane truly happy, but he also knew Akane was in danger, and she was completely unaware of it.

He took it upon himself to solve the problem, like he always would for Akane. However, instead of warning her about the impending issue, he took it right to the source: Ferid Bathory.

"Hey." Mika deadpanned, tapping the ringmaster, whose back was turned to him as he watched Akane go, on the shoulder. "Cut it out."

"Oh, Mikaela-chan~!" Bathory spun around, surprised at first to see Mika standing there but quickly masked it with an easy smile. "I didn't see you down there."

Mika grimaced, cringing at how effortlessly he pretended to not be a total creep. At an awkward age of thirteen years old (though, he would be fourteen in a month), he was growing rapidly in all the wrong places and constantly looked out of proportion. The only thing that hadn't changed was his fiery personality, which only came out when he needed to get defensive over his best friend.

"Don't try to avoid it," Mika said coldly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know exactly what you're up to."

"Whatever do you mean?" Bathory practically batted his eyelashes.

"I've seen you," Mika's voice was quiet, but filled with anger. The months of watching his revolting behavior had built up to this very moment, and he wasn't going to go down without a fight. "You stare at Akane like that while she practices, while she stretches. You think you're being coy, but anyone can see it from a mile away, and it's disgusting, so cut it out."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," He denied in a singsong voice. He glanced around casually, before getting on one knee so he could be eye-to-eye with Mika. As if a switch has been flipped in him, his cheery and odd demeanor had vanished, replaced with a look that sent shivers down Mika's spine. "But I'd watch your mouth, little boy. It's rude to go poking your nose in other people's problems. It'll get you in big trouble someday."

Mika gulped, but he kept his expression neutral as he fired back. "You can't threaten me, Bathory," He explained calmly. "I can reveal what you've been doing to the entire company in an instant."

"You won't do that," Bathory shook his head.

"And who says I won't?" Mika challenged, his eyebrow twitching in anger.

"Me," He smirked. "Because I'll let you in on a little secret. Sure, Akane is cute. But, unlike what you think, I haven't touched her once. But you should now I can do anything I want. This is my show, and that girl will do anything to stay here. You know this, don't you, Mikaela-chan?"

Mika's cheeks flushed with anger and he clenched his jaw in disgust, not liking where his was going.

"It's a win-win situation," Bathory continued to explain. "She gets to live on her dreams, I get to admire her beauty, and you'll stay quiet."

"That's what you think," Mika interrupted him. His voice, dripping with venom, was low so no one would overhear. "But that doesn't stop you from being sick. I'm going to tell everyone what a pedophile you are, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Mika turned on his heel, starting to march away in a flourish. He had only gotten two steps, however, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, whirling him around and knocking him forcefully against the wall. His head bounced painfully against the solid surface, sending a shooting pain throughout his skull.

"You will do no such thing," Bathory snarled, deathly quiet.

"Then don't touch her," Mika growled back.

"Fine," Bathory smirked. He leaned in closer, merely centimeters away from Mika's neck. He tilted his head, whispering in his ear. His breath was hot and fearsome as he spoke. "But only if you take her place."

Mika's heart sunk in his chest. Seeing the way Bathory looked at him, his narrowed eyes raking up and down his body, looking like a predator before a meal, it made him terrified. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Akane return from the break spot, running her hand through her hair, a bottle of water to her lips. He looked back at Bathory, who watched him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

The last spreads of his conscience and morality dissolved into nothing as he gulped, nodding his head slowly before he could think twice.

"Okay."

- - - -

Present Day

"It went on for eight months," Akane said quietly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

The words echoed in Yuu's mind as he processed everything that had been spoken in the story. Eight months that Mika endured unimaginable abuses that would surely haunt him forever, he realized.

"He never wanted to talk about what happened exactly," Akane explained. "But I think you may get a general idea of what Bathory-san did."

Yuu gulped and nodded. The mental images that came to mind were gruesome, something he couldn't even fathom happening to such a sweet and innocent little boy. Over and over, day after day.

"But why did he do it for such a long time?" Yuu whispered.

Akane knew the answer immediately. "Mika's always been hellbent on protecting me, to the point where he's put himself in danger for the sake of keeping me safe or in the dark," Akane told him. "It's actually really sickening. I know he needs help, a wake up call so he could realize what he was doing to himself. I didn't even know how long he'd keep the act up, it was only because I found him crying by himself one night that he finally told me what he had been dealing with."

"So he eventually learned his lesson?" Yuu mused, wiping the tears off his face. "Surely he realized that he didn't have to go through that just for the sake of protecting you?"

Akane shook her head. "He was emotionally and physically scarred, but his codependency never fully went away. We eventually left the circus, going on to other places, like boarding school, traveling the country, working odd jobs, you name it. We eventually settled down in this tiny home in Drelacia." She ushered around them, smiling fondly at the chipping walls. "It was a good thing we found a place where we could stay for a while. After almost ten years of running from place to place, it was time to find somewhere to make an adventure of our own. I thought it would help, that I would get better, that he would get better-"

She paused, her voice shaking nervously. "But we only got worse."

"We?"

"Remember in the story when I tried to tell Mika something but never got the chance to?" Akane recalled. When Yuu nodded, she held her hand out to him. The cut still was there; it had healed over in a rough, fleshy hypertrophic scar. "I have a rare condition called pernicious anemia, a blood condition I developed around age ten that renders me very physically weak. It requires a lot of medical attention; I need hospital checkups, medication, blood transfusions, surgeries, the list goes on. It's extremely expensive to keep me able to live my life, and the severe condition does not mix well with a poor, runaway orphan."

That made everything make sense. Suddenly, Yuu understood why Mika went to such great lengths, putting himself in danger to steal: he needed the money to keep his best friend alive. It was like a moment of understanding; for a split second, the confusion slipped away, but came back as Yuu pondered on the ethics of stealing for medical purposes. The moral dilemma could be argued either way, and he tried to think of what he would do if he were in Mika's shoes.

"I know what you're thinking, Yuu-san," Akane interrupted his thoughts. "You're probably thinking it's okay for him to steal if he's trying to save my life. But it's not. I can take care of myself. He's just been using it as an excuse because it's become an addiction and he can't stop. Gambling every night in pubs, cheating people out of their money in poker. Stealing anything he can to pawn it off in market deals. Sacrificing himself to make any money he can to pay the bills. You know, codependency is one of the scariest types of addictions out there."

Yuu clutched the letter, which had been folded, tightly at the mention of addiction. He felt stunned; frozen in his spot, unable to wrap his head around the idea that his Mika - his sweet, kind Mika - could be an addict? "In his letter," He defended Mika quietly, "He says he's realized what he's done wrong, and he knows what's more important to him now."

After hearing the backstory, Yuu didn't know if he could believe Mika. He wanted to, more than anything, but he knows life isn't just a fairy tale. People don't just change in the blink of an eye. They may grow and improve, but they will always make mistakes. Yuu knew better than to think his existence could suddenly fix Mika's codependency. It had gotten worse as the addiction became a part of his very being, manifesting in itself for over a decade, so there was no way it could just disappear... or so he assumed.

"Well," Akane finally said, interrupting his internal conversation, "I guess you'll have to figure that out for yourself when the time comes."

Yuu stood up after that, stretching his arms in the air. Akane raised to her feet as well, looking like she had much more on her mind. Yuu must've been a mind reader in another life, because right after he thought that, she opened her mouth to speak again.

"Yuu-san, there's one last thing I need to tell you," She grabbed his wrist. "You should know that even though Mika is a codependent person, and a kleptomaniac, and he's been through a lot of traumatizing shit that I can't even put into words, he still loves you. So please don't beat yourself up over lying to him about your true identity."

He loves you.

A sudden wave of emotion crashed over Yuu, and he pulled Akane into a tight hug. Akane made a noise of surprise but responded to the hug immediately, wrapping her arms around Yuu's torso. She was much shorter than Yuu, and her head rested against his chest, right at the point where she could hear his erratic heartbeat.

"Thank you for being so strong, Akane," He said quietly, mumbling into her shoulder.

"You are strong as well, Yuu-san," Akane responded, lifting her head to look Yuu in the eyes. "And Mika is becoming stronger from this. Which is why it's time for me to go."

"Go?" Yuu chorused, looking down at her. Her eyes, so bright, were filled with determination and willpower. "You're leaving?"

"My being here is doing nothing but holding Mika back. He thinks he owes his life to me because I saved his all those years ago, but I don't see it like that. I saved him because everyone deserves a second chance at happiness, especially a child with so much left life to live. He doesn't need to worry about me anymore. Like you said, I'm strong. I can manage on my own."

"Are you sure, Akane?" Yuu asked. "Leaving without a goodbye?"

"Mika will know why I did it," Akane told him honestly. "After all, I'm nothing but a runaway." She laughed, her joyous smile like rays of the sun. "Not to mention that he has you now. I have a feeling he'll turn out okay."

I'll be okay, Mika's words from the letter echoed in his head. Yuu blinked back tears and bit his lip, eventually nodding and pulling away completely.

Maybe he will be, Yuu thought. As long as I'm there to help him along the way.

She began to walk out of the room, retrieving a suitcase of her own from her bedroom. Yuu wondered how long she'd been planning to leave. Yuu followed her like a lost puppy throughout the cramped home, saying nothing until she stopped right at the front door.

Akane turned around, tears in her eyes but the biggest smile on her face Yuu'd ever seen. "So, I guess this is goodbye, Yuu-san," She mock-saluted him to lighten the mood.

"Let's not call it a goodbye so quickly," Yuu retorted, mussing up her hair, much to her annoyance. "I have a feeling our paths will cross again someday."

"Well, I'll see you then," Akane grinned, one hand on her suitcase handle and the other on the doorknob. "Take care of Mika, okay?"

"Of course," Yuu nodded, and he meant it from the bottom of his heart. "I promise."