Solace — Roleplayer Guild

"Dododododo, dodododododo," Daisuke hummed exuberantly by the kitchen sink as he stacked one clean dish after another, the din of running water drowned out by his headphones blaring an old version of a tune from a still-popular fighting game. Full of glee that he had been welcomed home with a tabletop of glorious food, he offered to clean up after dinner. He always thought long and hard about how much Ottavio worked around the house for him, and more often than not, he would practically force her to take a break as he took her place.

All of the kids had been allowed to return to their homes after the session of torture, though Daisuke himself had been too weak and hungry to free himself from the bond that kept him tied to the monkey bars, so much that Hajime had been forced to cut him loose and carry him home. While Daisuke was in the kitchen washing dishes, Ottavio and Hajime sat on the couch in the living room as she tended to his scattered cuts.

"You know, you're not that much of a fighter anymore like you were back then," she complained as she focused her hands directly above each wound on his body, a yellow aura emitting from her palms that coated each of Hajime's injuries. "You can't just go around the past beating up Canadians for no reason."

"On the contrary. They were Canadian mafioso," Hajime yawned as he flipped through the numerous channels of the television. "They were attacking my past self, and I had to defend myself."

Ottavio drew a long sigh as she lowered her hands, taking a brief moment to quickly survey Hajime's body for any more wounds before telling him that he was fully healed, and to put his shirt back on. "Still," she looked towards the kitchen, worried. "He's always worried about you, and you're never around for him. You're his father, at least be like one every now and then."

Hajime bit the inside of his mouth, swallowing the criticism. "What, you gonna tell me how to be a man now, too?" he snickered, laying the television remote to the side. "Look, I apologize for having actual responsibilities, but I can't stay at home and watch a kid all day when the Vongola Famiglia is at its most vulnerable state with all its Guardians bedridden, and everyone has their eyes on us."

"That kid watched as he lost his brother and mother when he was just four years old," Ottavio reiterated, snapping back. "And, in all honesty, I think he's already lost you, as well. Do you think he can live with that?"

Hajime slouched back into the couch, his eyes casting away from the television and lost in the atmosphere. "That was the past," he spoke in a dull manner, blinking slowly. "Right now, my job is to make him into the best god damned Lightning Guardian that I can. It doesn't matter if I'm not his father, anymore."

Ottavio shook her head, running a hand through her hair as she hugged her knees into her chest. "You can really be cruel sometimes, you know that?" she frowned. "I don't know how you can be like that after all that's happened..."

Just as Hajime was about to apologize for what he said, a series of knocks came from the front door, snapping the man out of his trance. He turned to Ottavio, who was wearing a surprised look, and looked back towards the door. "This late?" he mumbled to himself as he got up, grabbing his shirt and slinging it over his shoulder. He took hold of the television remote and clicked a series of numbers, the result being a camera feed of the front door.

His eyes squinted as Hajime saw a frantic Cyril accompanied by the girl that was with Sonya before, scratching his head as he went to answer the door. "What are they doing here?" he asked aloud as he swung the entrance open, looking down at the boy. "Shouldn't you be home, Cyril?"

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𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

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