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

Chapter 8

Nana wouldn't even look at the baby—her and Ren's baby, a little girl with dark hair and Ren's eyes. The infant lay swaddled in soft blankets, crying out for a mother who remained unmoved. Nana stayed curled up in the sheets of apartment 707, staring at the ceiling, her back to the crib. She wouldn't give the child a name, wouldn't reach for her, wouldn't acknowledge her existence.

The weight of Ren's death crushed her, day by day. His sudden absence had shattered something inside her, something vital, and the moment she discovered she was pregnant, the pieces seemed to disappear altogether. This baby, their baby, should have been a piece of him she could hold on to, but instead, she felt nothing. Worse than nothing. The baby was a reflection of everything she feared she would become—cold, distant, damaged, just like her own mother.

Hachi, forever the loyal Hachi, had practically moved back into apartment 707. She came every morning with groceries, cleaning supplies, and a forced smile, caring for the baby Nana refused to acknowledge. This small, nameless girl had become Hachi's responsibility, and though she never said it aloud, Hachi's heart broke a little more each day she returned to that door.

Something in Nana had broken, and no matter what Hachi did—whether it was the homemade meals she left untouched, the lullabies she whispered to the baby, or the conversations she tried to start—none of it could reach the Nana she once knew. The fearless, wild, unbreakable Nana was gone.

And then, one day, so was Nana herself.

Without warning or a word, she vanished. Hachi came to the apartment that morning, just like she had every day, but found it empty. The sheets were left in a crumpled mess on the bed, the door slightly ajar, and Nana's things missing. No note, no clue as to where she might've gone. She had disappeared into the wind, leaving behind only memories and the baby she couldn't bear to face.

Hachi tried to convince herself that Nana would return, that this was just one of her dramatic episodes. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, she realized that Nana wasn't coming back.

When she brought the baby home to Takumi, she expected resistance, a fight, or some scathing remark about how it wasn't her problem. But Takumi, much to her surprise, barely raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he, too, felt the weight of Ren's loss. Or maybe, despite his cold, detached nature, he couldn't bring himself to abandon Ren's child. Even Takumi had his limits, and he wouldn't turn his back on his bandmate's daughter.

And so, Hachi took Satsuki home—the name she'd chosen for the little girl. As much as it hurt, she moved on, building a life for herself with Satsuki in Tokyo. She kept apartment 707, though. She couldn't let it go, not entirely. It became a place of hope, a shrine to the idea that one day, Nana would come back, that she would walk through the door, fiery as ever, and things would be okay again. But the years slipped by, and that hope grew faint.

Five years later, Hachi's life was perfectly imperfect. Ren, her son with Takumi, was in London, receiving treatment for his illness, under the care of his father. Meanwhile, Hachi raised Satsuki in Tokyo, filling her days with laughter, love, and a home she'd built from the pieces of her shattered heart.

She told herself that Nana would return one day, that it wasn't goodbye forever. But as the seasons changed, she knew deep down, the Nana she once knew had already disappeared long before that fateful day.

And yet, a small part of her still hoped—hoped that somewhere, wherever Nana was, she'd find her way back to the family that never stopped waiting for her.