It was by now a familiar scene for the two of them. Hanako, seated on the cherrywood of the bathrorom's windowsill, idly playing cards with a group of Mokke, and Yashiro, stepping to and fro with sneaker-clad feet while absentmindedly humming a merry tune against a backdrop of the sounds of her cleaning.

Swish-swish. Dunk-splosh. Swish-swish.

The setting sun slipped in stubbornly through the cracks of the window's multi-colored mosaic that the apparition gazed out of with the look of a contented, lazy feline. The faded, spring colors of the glass filtered the sunlight in a way that bestowed the room with a warm, comforting glow, as dustlight leisurely drifted through the shafts of sun, soon to be mopped up.

When the Mokke let him know in chorused unison that it was his turn, Hanako moved to survey the hand of cards he held, only to end up fumbling them out of his grip as a yelp of surprise loudly tore through the nostalgic reverie settled into the atmosphere. The pink Faeries quickly seized their opportunity to snatch up Hanako's cards and distribute them amongst their own as the School Wonder turned towards the direction of the sudden noise.

Yashiro, who had previously been dancing around the restroom cheerfully while she worked, must've missed a small puddle that had not yet fully dried, for the schoolgirl seemed to have tripped and landed rather unceremoniously onto her rear. It was a small enough blunder, really, and not so big of a deal. She even looked as if she were about to haul herself up on her own as her face screwed up into one of annoyance rather than actual pain.

Yashiro merely slipping honestly, truly wasn't an event to do anything other than make light of, but…

Hanako's gaze was baleful as he stared at her, through her. The sunset once brilliantly illuminating the small space only now served to cast eerie, brackish shadows along the darkened wood walls, seeping into the corners like tendrils of malevolence. They seemed to undulate and stretch towards the girl sitting in a heap on the floor, and she looked to Hanako in that moment much like she always did, a beacon of pure light that beckoned catastrophe towards her like a bastion calling the souls of dead ferrymen home.

It should have been so simple and easy to leave well alone, maybe a smart remark about swollen ankles before returning to his game of cards and yet...

It's an impulse that wells up within him, sudden and uncontrollable.
It's the instinct to attempt doing something, anything, to wipe away the cloudy smudges that marred the otherwise perfect candy-coated halo that was her unique aura.
And...if he had to be wholly truthful, it's a desire rooted in selfishness unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

With the silent fluidity only a ghost could muster, Hanako positions himself behind the girl, arching his body around hers in a way that almost looked as if he were warding off danger. Yashiro ceases her attempts at hoisting herself up then, feeling the sudden stillness in the air held something of too much import to not follow along with.

He must drive her mad, he knows it. He's tasked with acting as safekeeper of the boundaries between the Near and Far shore, but when it comes to the boundary of his relationship with Yashiro, he can't help but dangerously flirt between innocent play and the kind of behavior that would likely send an irate father after his immortal soul. Or just the exorcist Boy.

But when she turns those raspberry-sherbet orbs up at his floating form after he's lost himself in one of those accursed impulses, finding his arms wrapped protectively, if a bit too tightly and intimately to be called friendly, around her collarbone, he can see all the unspoken questions to his actions in that beguiling gaze and he knows damn well he could never bear to answer. He can only nuzzle his face into the crook of her neck and hold on tighter, acutely aware of the proximity of lips to pulsepoint.

Why?

The innocuous word hangs in the humid, late-spring air of the third-floor girls' restroom. At least, Hanako assumes it must be humid, looking down at the little pearls of sweat beginning to form along her furrowed brow, for it had been over fifty years since he could detect temperature differences.

Why?

The apparition can't tell her that he sees the fuzzy black shadows constantly trailing behind her whenever he looks at her, truly looks at her. He couldn't bear to say that even when she's at her happiest, daydreaming the receival of her first love letter or when she's hitting high scores on that idol game he didn't understand and babbling excitedly about the sequel announced for next year, his thoughts inevitably turn to the doomed truth of her existence and how those were realities she very well may never experience. He couldn't possibly fathom explaining that these dark feelings of his were the basis of the irresistible need to be close to her and momentarily forget it all.

Why?

Hanako knows one thing about himself for sure, and that is that he hates not having control. Hanako also knows one thing for sure about Yashiro, and that she is the second thing in the whole universe to threaten his semblance of it. If he were to lay bare the candid truth nestled within the space where his heart used to beat, it would spell far more pain than he thought he could handle. Because the most pure reason hidden within his impish physical affections was because he just wanted to, simple as that.

After all assistant and apparition have been through at this point, after the accidental slips and hints (and some not-so unintentional), they both carried within them the knowledge of how deep and far their bond extended. He was sure their feelings for each other were no secret to anyone who knew them (which was an admittedly small audience, circumstances as they were), yet he was also sure the still-beating heart of the hopeless romantic held within his grasp fluttered like that of a newborn bird, unsure of taking its first flight. It would demand no less than a verbalized confession.

But that's where he had to draw the line. Because despite what initially started as a curious little question and had eventually blossomed into her secret plea, despite how badly Hanako felt the burning desire of indulging in the normalcy of a boy confessing to the girl he liked, he knew it was a fancy that was a dead-end.

Dead. He held no future for her, however short that future may end up being.

No, the Seventh Wonder of Kamome Academy could never, ever give Yashiro the answer she deserved because humans and the supernatural just can't mix. He knew such was irrefutable law, but the real trouble lay within the fact if he ever by some crazy happenstance did give breath to his tacit devotion, he feared it would be the key to unlocking the idealistic Yashiro's superpowers, and she would sweep him up, rationale and all, into somehow believing it was possible. That they were possible.

"Hanako-kun…?"

And that's why, just like every other time preceding this one, Hanako left the question forever floating in the space between them, instead choosing to don his trademark grin as he regrettably disentangled himself from the girl sitting with bated breath beneath him. Just as quick as the snap of his fingers, the mood shifted as he masked his inner turmoil, tucking it neatly away into a dark corner of the mind to be dealt with later. Or not.

Yashiro almost looks decidedly sulky as Hanako floats away, a pretty blush staining the vanilla canvas of her cheeks. Hanako takes this opportunity to pounce and deflect, moving into the much-safer territory of teasing.

"Aww Yashiro, that's quite the look you have there! Is the heat starting to get to you, or..." he edges just slightly closer once again, complete with suggestive waggling of his ghost fingers, "Were you perhaps hoping for my embrace to become more lewd, you rowdy radish, you!"

Her budding blush claims yet even more retail space, traveling from the apples of her cheeks down the bared skin of her neck, where Hanako's face had been resting just moments before. She can only sputter indignantly in response, her slight sulk morphing into a full-blown pout replete with comically puffed-out cheeks. Hastily pushing herself up and reclaiming the abandoned mop from where it had clattered to the floor with her earlier fall, Yashiro turns her back to the now-sniggering spirit and resolves to finish the day's chores as quickly as possible.

With a sigh imperceptible to all but himself, Hanako resumes his earlier perch to be met with a distinct lack of cards and trio of Mokke triumphantly holding signs that each read,

"You lost!"
"We won!"
"Bow down!"

He gives a halfhearted shrug and holds his hands up in defeat before turning back to the window once more, chin cupped in his palm, his show of forced merriment quickly fizzling and replaced with a pensive gaze that now regarded the darkening horizon with disinterest.

"Geez, you're such a confusing bully sometimes…" Yashiro mutters out over the monotonous swish-swish of the mop.

"It's all borne from my love for you."

The words escape past his lips before he can even think of stopping himself, and Hanako can barely find the will to turn a neck stiffened by cold dread to see the result of whether his blunder had been heard. Thankfully the words must have been swallowed by the shadows, as Yashiro's back was still turned towards him as she never broke her furious stride in her mopping.

...only what once may have been indignant anger spurring her on now became a fluttery agitation, as the ears of one Yashiro Nene could never miss out on hearing anything regarding 'love'. That hungry blush devours her cheeks - her nose - all of her skin, once again, but the almost-painful pounding of her heartbeat is belied by a watery veil of tears threatening to pour down that rosened face.

Stupid Hanako.

How could he so carelessly admit such a thing in front of her? He loved her? Didn't he know…?

Stupid Hanako…

He must have known by now what hearing her deepest desires made actualized would do to her wanton heart. What it would make her want to do…

Stupid Hanako!

Yashiro whirled around just then, mint-and-silver strands whipping wildly about her frame as she gripped the mop tightly to her chest like a protective talisman.

"Hanako-kun, I love you t-"

But the confession was cut short, for the apparition was nowhere to be seen. All that greeted her were discarded playing cards and gloom gathering along the edges of the bathroom's stained glass windows. Heaving a sigh, Yashiro begins to gather her cleaning supplies before heading home to wallow in mortification. It's not like humans and the supernatural can mix like that anyway, she knew.

Yashiro, you idiot.

AN: Ahhh sweet lordt I did it! I finished something again, I'm so happy~~ But, along with that elated feeling comes the impending dread of treading into a new fandom...I hope you treat me gently for I'm rather rusty! If anyone's curious, this particular one-shot came from thinking about how unabashedly touchy-feely Hanako is with Nene~ It's adorable, and then my mind just kept adding and adding things to it and it ended up more somber than I was intending...oops.

As I mentioned in the description, I'm intending for this to be an anthology of one-shots/short stories that house the collection of plot Mokkes that may pop up from time to time (either exclusively, or majority Hanako/Nene centric). I'm definitely a flighty author but if anyone is interested in my writing and/or more Hana/Nene TBHK fics in general that will hopefully serve as inspiration for me to continue! Thanks for reading and drop a line if you're so inclined!