Strawberry Fields Forever After (Takumi's Dead! A Nana FanFiction)

Chapter 3

The morning light seeped through the curtains, gently stirring Hachi from her restless sleep. She could hear the muffled sounds of the city waking, but beneath that, the distant hum of voices. It took a moment for her to realize what it was—the paparazzi had arrived. They swarmed the outside of the building like flies, waiting for a glimpse of the family that Takumi had left behind.

Ren had long since grown accustomed to this. At just five years old, he was no stranger to the limelight, thrust into it by his father's fame. Takumi had never shielded him, always showcasing Ren as his protégé, the son of a musical genius. But despite his age, Ren had grown weary of it all—the flashes, the shouting, the cameras capturing every breath of his young life.

Down the hall, the smell of breakfast drifted through the air, the sound of staff bustling. Yasu was already awake and dressed, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, working on his tablet. Ren rushed up to him, his face lighting up as he threw his arms around Yasu's waist.

"Uncle Yasu!" Ren's voice was bright, full of joy that felt out of place in the grief-filled air.

A warm chuckle escaped Yasu as he returned the boy's embrace. "I've missed you too, kid."

Hachi stirred in bed, the weight of the day pressing against her chest. As she rubbed her eyes, Satsuki stirred beside her, her small body still warm from sleep. The morning was quiet, just for a moment, but then the reality of the day came crashing down like a wave.

By the time they all gathered at the table, Ren and Satsuki had reunited with the unspoken bond only siblings shared. But Satsuki's brow furrowed when she heard the noises from outside, the chaos of photographers and reporters that she had never had to face in Tokyo.

"Mommy, what's going on?" Satsuki's voice was innocent, but the question carried the weight of all the things Hachi couldn't say.

Hachi drew a shaky breath, gathering her strength as she looked at her children. Yasu stood beside her, his silent presence grounding her. She motioned for the children to sit down, her voice trembling. This was it—the moment she had dreaded.

"Come sit with me," she said softly, her throat tight as tears welled in her eyes. She barely managed to get the words out between gasps of emotion, her body betraying her calm facade. "There was... an accident... Your father, he's gone..."

She broke, the tears falling freely as her voice cracked, barely able to utter the truth. Her hands trembled as she reached for her children, her heart aching with the unbearable weight of it all.

Ren and Satsuki's faces were blank, unreadable, as if the meaning of her words hadn't yet reached them. Perhaps they were too young to fully grasp the gravity of the loss, or perhaps they were simply better at coping than she had anticipated. Either way, their small hands reached out to her, gentle and tender.

Ren wrapped his arms around her, his voice soft and reassuring, a sweetness that made him so different from his father. "It's okay, Mommy. Don't cry."

Satsuki joined, resting her head on Hachi's lap, her small fingers gripping her leg. The simplicity of their acceptance, their instinctive love, was enough to momentarily calm the storm in Hachi's heart.

But in the depths of her soul, she knew the storm was just beginning.

—

The drive to the hospital felt like a surreal blur, the city whipping by outside the tinted windows. Hachi stared vacantly ahead, her heart heavy with an ache that seemed to grow with every passing moment. Beside her, Yasu remained a steady presence. They navigated through the underground parking, bypassing the frenzy of paparazzi and grieving fans gathering above.

She couldn't shake the image of Satsuki and Ren left behind, staying with the staff in a place that felt like a world away from the warmth of her embrace. The thought broke Hachi's heart; she needed them now more than ever. They were so young, and the weight of her grief felt too heavy to bear alone.

As they arrived at the hospital, they were met with a wall of security and police, barricading the entrance against the relentless swarm of reporters clamoring for a glimpse of the story unfolding. The driver slowed and lowered his window, only to be met with a barrage of questions and cameras flashing like lightning.

"Is it true Takumi died with another woman?" one reporter shouted, their voice dripping with sensationalism.

Hachi kept her sunglasses on, hiding her tear-stained eyes from the world outside. She couldn't face the questions, the judgments, the invasive curiosity.

The police waved them through, and the driver accelerated past the crowd, the momentary chaos fading behind them as they entered the hospital's private wing.

Inside, a familiar figure stood waiting. Shin. He was dressed inconspicuously, a cap pulled low over his eyes. Being a successful actor now, he had to keep a low profile. But the glow of maturity marked his handsome features. Hachi felt a rush of relief wash over her as she caught sight of him.

"Hi, Mama," he said softly, stepping forward to envelop her in a warm embrace. That endearing nickname ignited a spark of comfort within her, a reminder of the family she had always leaned on.

Behind him, seated in a plastic chair, was Nobu. His expression was serious but warm, his presence a balm to her frayed nerves. Even though he had never been fond of Takumi, he had taken the next flight out, knowing Hachi would need the strength of her family around her.

The floodgates opened, and Hachi found herself enveloped by their warmth. "Thank you for being here," she whispered, the words tumbling out like a prayer.

Together, they navigated the sterile corridors, the white walls closing in around them as they approached the morgue. Each step felt like a weight upon her chest, a grim reminder of the reality they were about to face. Hachi gripped Yasu's arm tightly as they reached the door, the enormity of the moment crashing over her.

When the mortician entered, he wore a solemn expression. Hachi's heart raced as she nodded, bracing herself for the unimaginable. The sheet was pulled back, and there he was—Takumi. His body, once vibrant and full of life, now lay battered and bruised, a shell of the man she had loved and lost.

Hachi gasped, a sob escaping her lips as she turned and buried her face into Yasu's shoulder, her body wracked with emotion. He was gone. The finality of it all settled in her bones like a cold, unforgiving weight.

Yasu held her tightly, offering silent comfort as he glanced at Takumi's face, barely recognizable. The once-chiseled cheekbones were now caved in, the light that had always been behind in his dark eyes extinguished. He was dead.

In the adjoining room, Shin and Nobu stood at the observation window, their expressions a mix of sorrow and disbelief. The room felt thick with grief, a shared burden that only they understood.