Nana Fan Fiction ❯ Regrets ❯ Regrets ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Regrets

Author: hostilecrayon

Fandom: NANA

Pairing: Nobuo/Hachi

Rating: PG

Warnings: Angst Spoilers for up to the end of the anime/manga Chapter 84.

Disclaimer: Nana is property of Ai Yazawa, Cookie and Viz Media.

Word Count: 995

Notes: So Nana is on hiatus for a couple months… which kind of makes me want to cry. And since I'm sincerely rooting for a Nobuo and Hachi end result, and I couldn't find much fanfiction on it, I wanted to write a fic. In the last episode of the series, and I believe chapter 42 in the manga, they show a piece of the future (or I guess technically the present…) where Hachi fills the bathtub for Nobuo and she has some memories about him, and when she turns to leave, he grabs her hand. There have been 42 more chapters and that hasn't been explained yet… So I just kind of want to capture that moment somehow. Because at this rate, it could be another three years before I get an explanation. >.>; Since it only comes out once a month and they've announced a few months' hiatus… Here's my crack at it. Also, the ring comment comes from a later chapter in the manga where Junko asks Hachi if she's going to get a divorce, since Takumi and Hachi separated. (No, I have no idea how the timeline actually fits together, so I made it fit my convenience, of course. Which, I suppose, makes this a Divergence and/or a TWT - Timeline, What Timeline?)

 

I might write a sequel. It's actually kind of intended to have a sequel, so I probably will.

 

Regrets

 

Hey, Nana, do you remember that night we took that bath together? That night, I told you how Nobuo felt about me. I don't know if it was Nobuo grabbing my hand that day or the memories of us talking in that bathtub together, but somehow, my fate felt like it started to change just after I'd given up on such things.

 

I think it may have been a little of both. What do you think, Nana? Would you smile if you knew?

 

Would it make you happy, Nana?

 

---

 

It was the night of the Tamagawa Fireworks Festival. No matter what was going on in our lives, we always made time to meet in room 707 each year. It felt so good, and yet, we were still incomplete without Nana. Everything was exactly as it was when we lived together, and it was impossible not to get lost in the memories of what once was. Having Shin, Yasu and Nobuo all sitting at the little table you built for us was harder than I could say.

 

And as I ran the water for Nobuo, the memory of that night in the bath with Nana washed over me.

 

“Nana, listen. The truth is, Nobuo…”

 

“What's that about Nobuo?”

 

Times were different back then, and I couldn't help but think of what might have been.

 

“Nana?” Nobuo drew me from my thoughts, calling me by my given name. It had been many years since he called me Hachi, one of the many things I lost that fateful day when Takumi appeared out of the blue and changed my whole world. I turned to face him, wondering if he could see through me. Hoping that he could, maybe. He took a few steps towards me with that concerned look on his face. It was a look I'd never get used to. “What are you doing?”

 

I smiled emptily and held up a container. “Yuzu bath salts. Smells nice, doesn't it?” Honestly, I knew even then that it was a flimsy explanation, but I was afraid. After so many years, still, I harbored the same feelings. But at the time, I was so sure that I would only hurt Nobuo more by revealing them.

 

So I lied. “You don't have to worry like this. I'm fine now.” I was far from fine, and we both knew it. Raising a child alone, separated from a husband who was never able to put me first was more difficult than I would allow myself to show. It was the path I chose. Right or wrong, you cannot change the past. I avoided eye contact. The sadness in his eyes was too intense to bear.

 

“It's hot in here,” I said, wiping my face with a towel. “I put out a towel for you too, young master.” I hid behind my formalities and stood to leave. Kneeling there on the floor next to where I just was, he turned and grabbed my hand.

 

For one short moment, I remembered the first time he grabbed my hand beneath the stars, long ago when there was still hope left for me in this world, and I couldn't stop the look of regret for losing the one man who could have made me truly happy.

 

My hand turned in his, or perhaps he turned it, and the ring that was supposed to be my promise of happiness glinted much brighter than my life had ever been since I'd put it on. We stood frozen like that, his fingers warm on my hand, for what seemed like a lifetime.

 

Slowly, he withdrew his grip, and, unable to speak, I turned to leave, but his soft voice stopped me. “Why do you still wear the ring?”

 

When I looked back, he was staring into the bath water, and I wished he could see what I did in it only moments before. I didn't have any answer that I felt was good enough for him. So instead, I changed the subject.

 

“I look forward to the fireworks every year. But you know, nothing could compare to those convenience store fireworks we lit together, don't you think? If I had to pick one moment to live in forever, I know in my heart that it would be that night.”

 

Nobuo looked at me then, his eyes wide, and I wondered what he was thinking. The sound of Satsuki's voice echoed through the kitchen and into the bathroom, and I thought that maybe even that night was tainted somehow. I was already pregnant with the child I chose to raise with the wrong man. If only I had made different choices.

 

Even though I was not the selfish child I was back then, I couldn't stop the tears. Tears for me… and tears for Nobuo. I couldn't understand in that moment why, after all of the pain I had caused him, he swept me up in his arms then. It reminded me of that time in the dormitory in front of Ren's shrine when we cried together. I think that was the first time I fully realized how big of a fool I was.

 

“I really wish to teach her to play the guitar.”

 

Nobuo would have raised the child as if it were his own, whether it was or not. He just needed me to tell him that's what I wanted. He's always thought of me, and yet, even when I tell myself I'm doing something for him, it's really just my own selfishness.

 

As I stood there weeping into his shirt for what might have been, in a shaking voice, he whispered, “Do you think, if we wished for it hard enough, we could get back there somehow?”

 

I just cried harder.

 

Hey Nana, what do you think of me now? Even if you think poorly of me, I'd like to see you again so I could hear you say it in that voice that I've always admired.