Word count: 539
For Fireflys Locket: Hachi/Nobu, "star"

Star-crossed

Hachi believed in Destiny. It wasn't the same as believing in Nana with all her heart, or knowing that Junko didn't like her sometimes (and then Hachi would call her up and chatter to her, to make sure Junko would stay just there), or that somewhat anxious fear she harboured all the time, terrified she'd fall in love again. The faith, curled up in a corner of her mind, didn't make much sense. Hachi couldn't put her finger on exactly where she placed this trust (Junko always told her it was misplaced, and shouted at her to take control of her own life), or why she trusted at all, but Hachi could feel it deeply, a larger-than-life connection that yanked her, slowly, slowly, to her fate.

Hachi was warm against Takumi's chest, snuggled in his arms like a little child. She sighed, and trailed an experimental finger along his jaw, stiffening when his left hand twitched a little against her hip. She stared at him in the dark, eyes wide, sucking in the handsome man, and breathing in the scent of his bare skin mingled with the faint, sweet whiff of their sheets.

He turned around, arm sliding off her naked skin to lie on his back, leaving Hachi blinking and cold.

She crept out of bed, and shimmied into a robe. Hachi padded over to the side of the room, finding the window and leaning against it. Cool glass touched her cheek. She trailed her fingertips across her own face, hesitating on the lips that Takumi had kissed, so, so gently, and smiled. Her eyes roamed upwards, searching for stars past the edge of the window frame, and she suddenly remembered, was abruptly enflamed with the feeling of Nobu's arms around her, and his musical voice in her ear. He was rambling, and she'd giggled, euphoric. His fingers tightened kindly where they overlapped her stomach as she laughed, and she'd felt an odd buzz, as if she knew (perhaps their proximity had caused his thoughts to shoot into her mind) that he would never, ever let her go. Hachi couldn't remember exactly what he'd said (something about the way Yasu ate, and Nana subconsciously becoming the same) and the moment shouldn't have been so alive in her mind; but the way he'd whispered her name into her hair trapped the moment and held her heart still. "My little Hachiko," he murmured, muffled and husky, and Komatsu Nana nearly burst into tears. She almost blubbered into his arms, and then she would have embraced him, holding him so tightly he'd say, "Hey, Hachi, I don't think I can breathe," and make her delighted amid her sniffles.

She held herself instead, fully leaning against the window, suddenly frantic. She sought for the pinpricks of light that should have been in the sky, congratulating her on finding her love at last. She recalled Takumi's lips on hers, his thumb sliding under her breast, the way he made her feel. But she could see no stars. There was only a black, swallowing expanse that scared Nana, and her fingernails dug into her arms.

Hachi couldn't have chosen wrong. She couldn't have.

But no matter how she begged, how she remembered, how she cried, pitifully hot tears that had no meaning and stung her cheeks-- the stars wouldn't shine for her that night.