Pérola, August 19th

Hatchin's dream

A ten-year-old Hatchin was standing at the door of the plane with Hiroshi and the pilot already on board. Michiko was standing on the porch, leaning against one of the pillars with her arms crossed. Though she was at a distance, she could tell that the brunette was wearing a poker façade. "Michiko…" she whispered softly. As she turned to board the plane, she made the mistake of looking back and ran toward the house. "Michiko!" But try as she might, the porch started to become farther out of reach. "Michiko… Michiko… MICHIKO!"

A twenty-one-year-old Hatchin sat up in her bed, panting heavily. Her sudden action caused the silk sheets that had previously encircled her shoulders in its velvet embrace to pool around her waist. Michiko. A burdened sigh wafted through her pale pink lips as she threaded her fingers through her platinum hair. She had not seen the sassy brunette since the last time she had been placed behind bars. This, the blonde noted with another sigh, was almost twelve years ago. In short, she missed the cocky convict that spoke openly about the father she never really got to know. After all, he did leave to be with another woman.

Of course, it had taken a while to warm up to her, but it was worth the friendship. Despite the way she went about it, it was clear that Michiko really cared deeply for Hatchin; which was more than she could compare to, with her history of upbringing. Up until she was ten, she knew the "foster hop" better than anyone. A reminiscent smile softened her features as she remembered that Michiko had stopped that.

Her reflection on that fateful day was cut short as the wail of her three-year-old son reached her ears. The young mother smiled as she crossed the wooden flooring to her crib. Upon recognizing her face from the shadows, the young toddler whimpered lightly with arms outstretched. Reaching over the crib, she picked him up.

"What's wrong, Zen?" the aforementioned simply yawned in her arms as he snuggled deeper into the girl's shoulder, tears forgotten. The platinum blonde gave a light chuckle as she kissed the endearing redhead. She smiled airily at the silvery light that cascaded through the window and illuminated the room. Turning to the child bundled in her arms, she realized with an omniscient smirk that he was asleep and would refuse to let go. Snorting softly, she carried him to the bed and slept.