3summary: "Even if nothing happens in the end, you were here. Even if there's no Hiroshi, I had you."
word count: 1032
"What if," Hatchin begins, mildly holding her breath and making sure her sentence doesn't come out too rough or too insensitive, "my father isn't as great as you once thought he was?"
"Still think," Michiko corrects, giddy with excitement at just the mention of her former lover. "And there's no way that's possible. He's the best. The coolest."
Hatchin swings her leg from a chair too high for her and readjusts her sitting position every two seconds because it's the dog days of summer and their air conditioner stopped working an hour ago. They haven't mentioned her father for a while but, of all days, he seems to weigh on her mind the most.
"But time changes people. For better or for worse."
"What are you trying to say, Hatchin?"
That she's a fool for trusting in time. That people don't stay the same. That if Hiroshi Morenos were really in love with Michiko Malandro, he'd have found her, and not let them give chase for as long as they have, fully knowing they were after him.
But instead she says, "Nothing," and continues to rest her head in the crook of her elbow, wondering if she'll ever become blinded by love as so many people have for her father.
::
The cities are so full of people, lively, holding remnants of their past but even still, Hatchin can't seem to grasp onto the ghost of her father long enough to believe it'll all end okay.
She likes Michiko's smile. Likes her laugh. Likes the hearts in her eyes when Hiroshi's brought into conversation and her faithfulness to a guy who, in Hatchin's opinion, is deemed unworthy of attention. She loves Michiko, therefore she goes along for the ride.
But as time goes on, as more and more anecdotes of encounters with her father come to surface, she can't shake the feeling he's not as nice, beautiful, smart as everyone says he is. She sees his flaws while everyone else doesn't, but maybe it's because they're so blinded by the past that she alone is able to evade heartache.
It's inevitable, of course. But she's prepared. Her mother is long gone and her father could probably care less. So she's not worried about herself.
Michiko on the other hand, she's worried about. Maybe she'll go on a rampage. Maybe she'll threaten to burn the whole country down. Maybe, just maybe, she won't react at all, and that's what scares Hatchin more than anything.
::
"We can be a family, Hatchin."
Another city, another day gone. Michiko lights her cigarette as she stares wistfully out of the glass-less window. She's been sporting a dazed look for a while now; longer than Hatchin would've ever hoped for.
"Michiko," Hatchin starts, then stops. Because Michiko's turned her head to look at her. Because her eyes are so full of hope, love, and specks of exhaustion, Hatchin stops.
"You'll love him, really," Michiko laughs. "You two are just alike. What's that saying? 'Like father like son?' Except like daughter. You'll fall in love with each other and there really might not be room for me."
"I want you to be happy, Michiko."
Michiko raises an eyebrow, then smiles. She motions for Hatchin to join her on the bed and she does, sitting close enough to smell the soft fragrance of perfume. Next to Michiko, she is safe. And she wants to protect the only home she has.
"What's this about, Hatchin? I am happy."
"But can my father make you happy?"
"Of course! He's the only man who's ever brought me joy."
Hatchin tugs at loose strings of her shirt, then asks, "Is this long journey we're on making you happy?"
There's no immediate response and Hatchin can tell Michiko is wondering that as well. But when she pulls out her cigarette and takes a long drag, she finally nods and says, "Yeah. Even if nothing happens in the end, you were here. Even if there's no Hiroshi, I had you, and you make me happy."
Tears well up in the corner of Hatchin's eyes. She throws her arms around Michiko, crying, blubbering nonsense into her shirt.
"Yeah, yeah," Michiko murmurs, patting her head as she holds her close to her chest, "I love you, too."
::
It's when they find him in the middle of the night at a train station, as far from glamorized as all the stories make him out to be, that Hatchin understands.
Michiko says, "I've been chasing after you all this time."
And yet, Hatchin wonders if they're still chasing after him. Even though he's here at this very moment, right in front of her, it feels as though they're still miles behind the great Hiroshi Morenos that they've been searching for. The ending doesn't feel right. Nothing about this feels right.
Michiko has faith, though. When it comes to Hiroshi, she'll believe in anything. So she sends the two of them off together and promises to come back when she's ready and, just like that, an adventure Hatchin had hoped would never end, ends.
::
In hindsight, it's almost laughable. Chasing after a man that didn't want to be caught. Risking lives and playing with death for a person who left without any hesitation.
He leaves the first chance he gets. With a woman, off to a country Hatchin forgets the name of. But she doesn't hold it against him. He's not the type to be held down. Never was. And when she remembers that, any grudges she has fades away into pity for him.
The father of her son is almost like her dad. She doesn't even realize it until he's gone with the wind. But again, she's not mad. She's grateful. Her son is a blessing that she falls in love with more and more with each passing day.
And when Michiko comes back, there's an insurmountable happiness that swells in her chest. She has her son and the woman who saved her and, when she thinks of everything that could've been and wasn't, she's thankful it all turned out the way that it did.
She really, truly, couldn't have asked for a better ending than this.
::
end
