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Haruno walks herself to the playground when she’s 8 years old. She doesn’t go over to the other kids, instead just perches on a bench, hugging her knees, and watches.
She doesn’t know how to approach them. How to pretend she knows anything about what their lives must be like, or how they talk to their own parents, instead of hiding from them when they come home at night.
And then a girl with bright pink hair struts into the playground, and Haruno kind of expects her to go play with the other kids, but instead she sits right next to her and tells her, “You look silly sitting by yourself.”
“I do?” Haruno blinks. But not slowly, because this girl isn’t a cat, and she doesn’t even know her name yet.
She nods.
“..Well, then you must look silly sitting with me,” Haruno declares.
The girl pauses, then giggles, and then laughs. “So you’re making a fool of me, then?” she teases.
Haruno doesn’t quite get what’s so funny, but she nods. “Mhm.”
She stops laughing, then, and holds her hand out. Haruno stares at it, and she puts it down, awkwardly. “..I’m Trish. What’s your name?”
“Haruno,” she introduces quietly. “Haruno Shiobana.”
Trish nods thoughtfully, as if trying to turn the words over in her mind. “Why are you sitting alone, Haruno?”
Haruno is quiet for a moment, and then she shrugs. “I don’t know anyone.”
“But-” Trish looks from the kids on the playground to Haruno. “How would you get to know them if you didn’t try?”
“You’re not trying,” Haruno points out.
“Yes I am.” She huffs. “I’m talking to you.”
“Oh.” Haruno nods slowly.
Trish stares at her, and she stares back.
“...Do you wanna find somewhere else to play?” Trish asks, then, standing up.
Haruno thinks about it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in her mind. Trish is nice enough, and doing something more than sitting and people watching could be interesting.
“Okay,” she agrees, finally, and follows suit, walking after Trish.
Trish brings her to a park, but doesn’t step off the sidewalk onto the dirt. Birds sing pleasantly from in the trees, and one even hops around on the ground for a moment.
“I really don’t like getting dirt on me,” Trish explains, “but I like the flowers here.”
Haruno stays next to her, also not crossing the border. She eyes the flowers, watches a breeze blow a petal off. “Does anyone take care of them?”
“They're wildflowers.” Trish sounds distantly amused. “They don't need anyone to.”
Haruno’s gaze stays on the plants.
The other girl keeps talking. “I wonder if they're lonely sometimes.”
“They're not alone,” Haruno’s gaze flicks to her, “They have each other. And-” She steps onto the grass, kneels down to a flower, and gently scoops up a ladybug.
Trish’s face scrunches up as she watches. “What are you doing?”
Haruno walks right back, and holds up the bug. “Look.”
Trish tenses up. “At.. that?”
“Mhm.” Haruno holds it up higher.
Trish recoils. “Don't put it in my face!”
Haruno blinks, and pulls it back, holding it to her chest.
Trish relaxes. Haruno makes a mental note of that.
“This is a ladybug,” she tells Trish, “they're my favorite.”
“You have a favorite bug?” Trish snorts slightly.
Haruno nods seriously. “What's yours?”
“I don't have one.” Trish tosses her hair. “I.. don't like bugs.”
“Oh.” Haruno is kind of disappointed. “That's okay.” But not surprised.
Trish looks past her, at the wildflowers. “Do you have a favorite flower?” She asks.
Haruno shakes her head.
“Those ones are mine.. They’re poppies, Mama said.” Trish thinks for a moment, staring at the other girl, and then says, “Can you meet me here again tomorrow?”
Haruno’s unsure, but she likes Trish, and so she nods. “Mhm.”
“Okay,” Trish puts her hands on her hips, “And you’ll find a favorite flower, and I can find a favorite bug. Sounds good?”
The prospect of getting to look at more nature is.. exciting. Haruno nods.
Trish hesitates, then holds her hand out for a handshake.
Haruno accepts, though it’s a very short gesture.
“It’s a deal then.” Trish giggles.
Haruno smiles slightly. “Yeah.”
– 🐞🪻 –
Neither of the children were able to make it to the park the next day. Haruno was not allowed to go out the next day, and Trish’s mother insisted they pack up and leave, for reasons unknown to her.
– 🐞🪻 –
The week after funerals happen for Giorno’s fallen allies–and enemies–he finds Trish at a park that reminds him of a memory he can’t quite place.
Trish stands on the grass, next to a patch of poppies. They look like they’re wilting, so Giorno brushes his hand against them, and watches them sprout up tenfold.
Trish snorts. “Impressive.”
“Thank you.” Giorno sits down.
Trish’s gaze flicks over the flowers, then Giorno, and then she sits next to him. “Do you have a favorite flower?”
“Gladiolus,” He answers, easily, and perhaps asking from instinct– “Do you have a favorite bug?”
The deja vu that brings feels dizzying for a moment, and has Trish eyeing the ladybugs on Giorno’s outfit with more thought than before. “Uh..” She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger. “Dragonflies.”
“Those are a good choice.” Giorno smiles slightly.
“..Gladiolus are, too.” Trish returns the expression.
Giorno rests his hand on the grass and lets a ladybug crawl on him, and then he lifts his hand up to his face, watching it keenly.
Trish watches. That one week felt like years, and time’s felt like it’s been moving out of place ever since. Trying to remember what came before feels like sorting through falling sand.
But–
“Did.. we meet before?” She half-whispers, then adds impulsively, “Haruno?”
Giorno’s gaze flicks to her, and he tilts his head, slow blinking, “I thought this felt familiar,” he says, contemplatively, “Yes, but I prefer my name as is, now.”
And lithely, like a cat, he moves his hand over, holding the ladybug close to Trish.
Trish yelps, “Oh my God-” but she’s laughing as she stands up, casting a half-annoyed, half-amused glance at Giorno. “Some things don’t change, huh?”
Giorno sets the bug down on a poppy. “No,” he agrees, the sunlight glittering off his hair like a golden mirror, “I suppose not.”