Chapter Text
It had been a strange series of events that had led to him taking residence inside this old antique shop permanently. Originally, it had been a spur of the moment decision to be used to spy (for lack of a better word) on his carefully orchestrated contest for the future generation of Arcobaleno. But even that had been out of a selfish need to witness future events without relying entirely on Wonomichi.
(And perhaps an inherent distrust of his assistant had played into the decision as well)
Regardless, there was little to entertain him nowadays, somewhat by his own design in warding the shop against nearly ninety-five percent of anyone who would walk by. It had seemed like the most prudent thing to do, at the time; use his unmatched Mist flames to create a strong persuasion to avoid the shop, and he wouldn’t be bothered during his spymaster stint.
Several weeks later, life changing events concluded, he returned to the shop and tacked on an exception after the events of the Representative Battles concluded fully, vaguely worded as allowing those with “pure” intent to view the shop without the mental fog that the original ward was meant to cause. He’d been half asleep when he did that, but it wasn’t reversible without removing the ward entirely, and he was much too lazy to let that happen.
Though he admittedly had more than enough free time to allow him to remove and replace the ward without being too terribly inconvenienced, but it was the principal of the situation that annoyed him, so that was the end of it.
It had been years by the time something interesting occurred. Color him surprised when Byakuran, of all creatures, waltzed through his doors.
The kid (a human adult, but all of them were children to him), had taken one look at Kawahira’s nonplussed face and scowled like he’s smelled something foul.
The Mare looked around the shop idly, eyes not quite focusing on any one thing, until his gaze fell on Kawahira. “While you are good at hiding,” he smiled, “I’m good at finding! I mean, you have experience in it, but still! All the trouble I had to go through to find you!”
And to think I’d thought the rest of the millennia would be uneventful. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Kawahira smiled passive-aggressively, setting down the knickknack he’d been polishing.
“I’m turning over a new leaf,” Byakuran grinned widely, skipping up to the counter so that their eyes could truly meet in an equally passive-aggressive response.
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you, young Mare.” Kawahira stopped himself before he could sigh, letting his smile go crooked instead. “Tsunayoshi complained about your escapades nearly every time he managed to find my shop.”
“Tsuna doesn’t appreciate how much more exciting I make his doldrums-colored life!” Byakuran shouted, an angry pout on his face as he waved his hand about. “I think he secretly appreciates the break from the paperwork.”
While that certainly seems exciting, I’ve got better things to do, today. Come to think of it… “How exactly did you find my shop, if you don’t mind me asking,” he asked, tone light. “I’ve quite the effort into hiding it, after all.”
Byakuran looked genuinely surprised at that. “Is it supposed to be hidden?” The Mare looked around the shop, seemingly finding nothing, and certainly not noticing the ward that Kawahira was certain still functioned. Its thrum was still echoing in his bones, after all. “It seemed perfectly normal on the outside, and I should know.”
Isn’t that interesting. Who would’ve thought that this chaotic Mare would have pure intentions?
“Besides, I’ve recently decided to turn over a new leaf. Repent for what of my other selves have done, you know,” Byakuran ranted, harshly interrupting Kawahira’s musing thought process.
Maybe slightly annoyed from the interruption (even if the Mare couldn’t read minds, for how could he have known), a terse tone slipped its way into his response. “And how exactly did you plan on doing such a thing while traipsing around my shop?”
“I’ve been looking for a thing you own, not you,” the kid chuckled, seemingly offended by such a comment. “Uni described it as ‘a mirror that peers into other worlds, the smallest shard of the Mare Sky ring embedded in its handle.’ Got any of that?”
That mirror was one of his oldest possessions, as well, and not something he thought any version of him would ever consider giving to this terribly active generation of Mare. It would probably boost the kid’s power just enough for him to reach a hand into other worlds without ripping himself apart into a ghost- or Ghost. “I don’t think I’m inclined to allow access to more worlds,” Kawahira finally said. “Look what you’ve done to most of them.”
“I am not the others. I…” the kid sighed, looking intensely conflicted, now. Maybe the burden of his legacy was finally sinking into his largely unburdened mind. He looked away from Kawahira, the sparkle in his eyes dimming slightly. “Let’s just say that I’m an anomaly and leave it that, please?”
Ah, well, he seems genuine. If that is even possible for a Mare. “Very well. If you vow to do nothing, intentional or otherwise, to disrupt any Trinisette, I will bequeath the mirror to you,” Kawahira smiled, mind made up. The kid shouldn’t have been able to enter the shop unless he was worthy of such a decision regardless, so perhaps this is was a very special case. Not to mention that this is probably the only universe I’ve seen fit to do this in, he chuckled inwardly.
“I vow wholeheartedly,” Byakuran grinned widely, jumping up and down like a small child even though the old Mist was vaguely aware of him being in his late twenties at this point.
“Very well,” Kawahira sighed, having had to wait for what seemed like an eternity while the Mare’s enthusiasm dampened to the point where he could leave the counter without worrying about him breaking something too expensive.
He turned from the counter (one eye lingering on the Mare as his grin shifted anxiously) and reached into the old, ragged bag stored beneath the till. This poor thing had seen too many years by now. Not as many as him, of course, but you’d probably be surprised to learn that it was nearly as many, having been purchased during the early years of humanity. Kawahira could still remember the old leather worker’s look as he’d handed the man a lion’s share of precious gems and metals in exchange, not knowing the prices for such things at the time. A younger him, and a younger him’s mistake, but alas, nothing could be done now.
Musing promptly squashed, Kawahira reached into the Mist-filled bag to produce the mirror. It was a dull and dirty thing, mostly for its own safety against thieves and their ilk. He’d taken to purposefully remembering to not polish the tool every few months, to the point where he was almost sure the grime and dust had formed a cemented sheen over the mirror. He highly doubted the Mare would even be able to use it, at least in this state.
He straightened back up, noting Byakuran’s rigid position in exactly where he’d been when he’d let his eyes off of him. At least he has the decency to not antagonize me further. “Now leave. I have so many other waiting customers, you see,” he huffed, setting the mirror onto the counter and pushing it toward the Mare’s eager hands.
And Kawahira waited for the quip about the shop being “oh so bustling, old man,” but it never came, the Mare’s eyes glittering on the mirror gingerly held within his hands like it was hypnotizing him. Oh, maybe it was. Kawahira couldn’t be affected by such artifacts of his past, so he had no idea what its effect would be on the Mare, good intentions or otherwise.
Something shifted in Byakuran’s gaze, a sort of rigid determination and a clenched fist held to the side like a silent prayer for success. The Mare smiled gently, much more so that Kawahira could ever remember it being, and he his voice was wavering and quiet when he finally muttered, “Thank you.”
Then the moment was ruined, a harsh cough from Kawahira breaking the Mare’s dazed state.
Byakuran startled, as if just now realizing the mirror was in his hand, quickly stuffing the old thing into some mysterious jacket pocket. “Goodbye, old man!” He shouted, sprinting out the door so fast that the bell shuddered and fell from its post.
Kawahira sighed, waving a hand idly to replace the bell on its perch as he watched the Mare run off in the distance from the safety of the old shop windows.
This was probably a bad decision, he mused, idly considering changing the bell’s perch to be more cemented against the door. Then again, I’m recused from such world matters now.
Well, he would make sure this would be the last any of them or the mafia goons would see him. That was enough for now, and the consequences of that would probably be enough entertainment for the next century.
Placing his favorite hat on his head (it was most certainly not checkered) and long, old coat on his shoulders, he closed the shop, waving a hand to change the sign to read “CLOSED – forever.” A second glance, and he added “Get your kicks elsewhere, Skies.”
He smiled as he made his way across Namimori to the bus stop, pausing to adjust his coat occasionally. Things were about to get a whole lot calmer for him, and a lot more exciting for everyone else. And, well, whatever happened next was not his fault.