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azikarue · 1 year

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MayBlade 2023 : Day 19 : Tree

TyHil | FFN Rating: K+ | FFN Link ❖ Hilary knew something was off from the moment she set foot in Tyson’s front yard. The normally uplifting atmosphere had an undercurrent of tension that made everything feel way too quiet for a sunny, spring afternoon. And, when it came to Tyson, quiet wasn’t usually a good sign.

With a deep breath, Hilary followed the path to the front door, glancing surreptitiously around on her way. Nothing was visibly amiss, and she was beginning to think that maybe her intuition was wrong for once, until she walked into the dojo and Hiro said:

“Oh, good, Hilary’s here. Maybe she can talk some sense into him.”

“What?” Hilary asked to the room at large as Hiro brushed past her, evidently irritated, and out the door she’d just entered through. “What’s going on?”

“Nothin’ to get worked up about, Homegirl,” Gramps said, his eyes lighting up as they turned from Hiro’s retreating form to Hilary. He smiled at her, even though his knuckles were white from how hard he was clutching his sword. “Hiro and Tyson got into a little spat, that’s all.”

Hilary frowned. It wasn’t unheard of for Tyson and Hiro to bicker, especially after the damage their relationship took when Hiro joined BEGA behind his brother’s back, but any argument that interrupted Grampa’s training felt like more than a ‘little spat’.

“Where is Tyson?”

“Little dude’s out back,” Gramps said, nodding in that direction. They seemed to have an unspoken understanding between them that Hilary was going to go check on him, because he didn’t look at all surprised when she immediately backtracked out the front door and around to the rear of the dojo.

She found Tyson next to the koi pond. His back was to her, but he appeared to be watching the Snowbell blossoms blow in graceful arcs across the surface of the water. They’d had a few stormy nights recently, and the yard was covered in so many flowers that it looked like an actual snowfall. It was beautiful and relaxing, but there was no peace in the slump of Tyson’s shoulders.

Hilary closed the gap between them, careful not to approach too quietly and startle him, but also not wanting to disturb him.

“Hey, Hilary,” he muttered when she came to a stop at his side. He shot her a weak smile that only made her worry more.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking him up and down curiously. He had a piece of paper clutched in his hands, blank side facing out, and the collar of his shirt was wrinkled, like his argument with his brother had gotten physical at some point.

“Did you see Hiro?” Tyson asked, answering her question with his own bitter inquiry.

Hilary nodded. Tyson wasn’t looking her way, so she also said, “Grampa said you two had an argument.”

Tyson scoffed. “It wasn’t really an argument,” he said with a scowl.

When he didn’t elaborate, Hilary probed further. “Okay? Well, is something wrong?”

Tyson’s only answer was a forlorn nod across the pond. Hilary followed his gaze and gasped.

She didn’t know how she’d missed it before, but The Grangers’ Snowbell tree was half collapsed. It looked like the wind and rain had become too much for it; one of the thickest branches had peeled away at the trunk and was dragging on the ground. Upon closer inspection, the wood inside looked almost like somebody had gouged big chunks of it out.

“Oh no!”

“Yeah,” Tyson said sullenly, staring at the tree with a frown.

The Snowbell had been a staple in his yard for longer than Hilary had known him. Judging by the size, it had probably been there for his whole life. What it had to do with Tyson and Hiro’s argument, she had no idea, but there had to be a connection. Like most things when it came to Tyson, she was going to have to be patient to find out.

“Do you think it can be saved?”

Tyson took a deep breath and let it out shakily. “No.”

“Are you sure?” she asked gently, inching closer as his brow furrowed.

“Grampa actually had an arborist come out and look at it.” He turned to her, a brief shadow of amusement flashing in his eyes before the sadness took over once again. “A tree surgeon – did you know that was a thing?”

Hilary nodded meekly.

“Of course you did.” Tyson gave a flimsy laugh and hung his head. “I guess it’s been sick and we didn’t know. They said it’s practically hollow inside and has to come down.”

“I’m sorry, Tyson.” She didn’t know what significance the tree held and it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was significant and Tyson was hurting.

Hilary moved slowly, so he could push her away if she was overstepping, and looped her arm through his. When he didn’t protest, she leaned her head on his shoulder, as close as she could get without outright hugging him. He seemed to deflate and rested his cheek on top of her hair.

She didn’t know how long they stood like that for, quietly letting the breeze toss fallen petals over their feet and breathing in unison, before she thought she should try to lighten the mood.

“What’s that?” she asked, motioning to the paper he was holding with her free hand.

Tyson’s breath hitched and Hilary felt a momentary panic in the handful of seconds it took him to pause, then tilt it enough for her to see. Relief that he wasn’t angry with her question turned to heartache when she realized he was holding a picture.

The photograph was obviously old, but in pristine condition; she could tell Tyson took really good care of it. And it was no wonder – the photo was of a young woman sitting under the Snowbell tree holding a little boy on her lap. They had matching, brown eyes. The little boy couldn’t be more than three years-old, but she’d know him anywhere. It wasn’t hard to guess who the woman holding him was.

“Is that your mom?” she asked anyway, because every ounce of brain power she had was going toward holding back her tears.

“Yeah,” Tyson rasped. When he cleared his throat, Hilary used the sound to mask her own sniffles. “She loved that tree. We used to spend hours out here. I don’t know if I really remember or if I just look at the picture and make the memories up.”

Hilary squeezed his arm, but didn’t say anything. She could sense he wasn’t finished.

“I asked Grampa if we could get a second opinion. I think he knew right away that I’d be upset.” Tyson took another quaking breath. “Hiro kept saying that it wouldn’t make a difference, that it was rotten and had to come down. He told me I’d have to get over it. I said some things back that I shouldn’t have and it just kept getting worse.”

“Hiro doesn’t always have the most tact,” Hilary said quietly, curling her other hand around his arm, too, and pressing so close that he could probably feel her heartbeat against his elbow.

The tension in the air made sense now that she knew what had happened right before she’d shown up. She could picture Tyson and Hiro shouting at each other, Hiro grabbing Tyson’s collar, and Grampa stepping in, kendo sword in hand, to break them up. If she wasn’t so concerned about Tyson, she’d probably be livid at Hiro right now.

“I know he only lashed out because he misses her, too.” Hilary thought that was a diplomatic thing to say – and surprisingly gracious of someone that Hiro thought needed some sense talked into them – but she didn’t comment. “He doesn’t want to have it cut down either, but it’s easier for him. He remembers her more than I do, has other memories. I… Hilary, I don’t have a lot of pieces of her left.”

Tyson’s voice wavered and Hilary felt her heart break. She sniffed again, willing herself not to cry. It was difficult when she could tell Tyson was on the brink of tears himself.

Suddenly, he was pulling away.

“Tyson?” Hilary tried not to sound too worried as he extricated himself from her hold. Instead of letting her arms fall limp, she wrung her hands together to keep from reaching back out.

“Anyway,” he said, like he hadn’t heard her, “they’re cutting it down tomorrow.” With those words, he turned his back on her and headed towards the dojo.

“Do you want me to come?”

“You don’t have to.”

Hilary showed up, bright and early, the next day. Something told her that Tyson would need a friend. She couldn’t, on good conscious, stay away and wait for him to admit it.

When Gramps met her at the door, he didn’t seem surprised to see her. Hiro wasn’t home, as far as Hilary could tell, probably off dealing with any grief he felt privately. She thought that was for the best; Tyson was so keyed up that one wrong word would spark another argument.

So Hilary didn’t say much. She sat outside and watched Tyson train. Facing, stubbornly, away from the tree, he launched Dragoon over and over, too distracted to keep it spinning for longer than it took to run a single drill. For once, she didn’t scold him for it.

In the quiet break after one of Dragoon’s slalom runs, they heard a truck pull up out front.

Tyson froze and Hilary sat forward. Both of them tuned their ears to the snatches of conversation drifting back from where Grampa was greeting the tree cutters. Immediately, Tyson whipped around to take a long, desperate look at the tree, as if he regretted training with his back to it all this time. Hilary ducked her head down; it felt appropriate to give him a minute of privacy.

When the voices started getting closer, Tyson retreated to her side and pretended to be very busy with his beyblade as Hilary nodded politely to the group of men rounding the corner.

After a series of brief introductions where Grampa did most of the talking, the workers circled the pond to inspect the tree.

“They’ve been doing this a long time, T-Dawg,” Grampa said, standing over them with a soft expression. “Said they’d tell us if the last guy was wack and the tree’ll keep kickin’.”

Hardly daring to hope, Hilary watched the workers examine the tree from every possible angle, before looking over, to where she, Tyson, and his grandpa were waiting with bated breath. One of the men shook his head. The other gave a reluctant thumbs down. Hilary’s heart fell.

Gramps patted Tyson on the shoulder on his way past.

Tyson slumped against the side of the dojo and slid down to sit beside Hilary.

Grampa returned a few minutes later with two lunch plates for her and Tyson, but neither of them felt like eating. Instead, they sat on the porch, watching as the Snowbell was methodically sawed into pieces and carried to the woodshed. Hilary snuck glances at Tyson the whole time. He sat stiff as a board with empty eyes watching as the tree was cut down.

“Is it really going to be used as firewood?” Hilary asked, sadness and concern mingling in her tone.

“We might as well use it for something,” Tyson said, sounding completely downtrodden and too much like Hiro for Hilary’s taste. “There’s probably not enough wood left to do anything else with.”

Hilary didn’t answer. An awful lot of the logs they were transferring were hollow inside.

Once the tree was reduced to a stump and sawdust, Tyson got wordlessly to his feet and went inside. She didn’t see hide nor hair of him while she tidied up the dishes from the lunch they didn’t eat. She cleaned up the handful of other dishes littered around the kitchen, too, as her heartache for Tyson and her desire to do anything to make him feel better chased each other around her mind.

“You didn’t have to do that, Homegirl,” Grampa said, appearing as she dried the last dish and put it away.

“I don’t mind,” she answered honestly. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Gramps fixed her with a kindly smile and said, “You’ve done plenty already. That was real groovy of you, keepin’ Tyson company out there today.”

Hilary nodded.

It felt like nothing to sit with Tyson and act as a silent supporter, especially when she couldn’t possibly understand what he was feeling right now and when she knew there wasn’t anything she could do to make him feel it any less. It hurt to see him hurting. She wished, more than anything, that she could preserve even a piece of the tree and its memories for him.

Suddenly, she got an idea.

“Grampa, would it be okay if I took a piece of the wood?”

It felt like a weighty ask. Hilary held her breath and Grampa’s curious stare, until he broke into a smile, nodded, and said, “Sure thing, Homegirl.”

When she left, she left through the back yard and purposefully ignored the lonely stump beside the pond. She crossed to the woodshed and took her time examining the wood she could see, until she found a piece of a branch that was still solid and strong-looking. As she left with it in her arms, she felt better knowing that she was saving at least one piece of Tyson’s mother’s favorite tree from flames.

It was almost a week later when Hilary showed up at the dojo next, with a wrapped parcel tucked under her arm. Tyson had been dodging her calls the whole time she was gone, but she had Grampa’s word that he was doing fine and keeping busy.

She found Tyson out back again, sitting by the pond with his back resting against the remnants of the Snowbell. It was weird seeing the ground covered in petals without the tree’s lush branches fanning out against the sky. It would be even weirder next springtime, when there were none at all.

Tyson was leisurely tossing food to the koi fish and looked up when he heard her approach. “Hey, Hilary.” The smile that accompanied his words was genuine, though, she suspected, out of practice.

“Can I sit down?” she asked, keeping the pond between them in case he said no.

Tyson nodded and scooted to the side a little, so Hilary had room to lean against the stump, too. It felt almost like she was intruding on something sacred, but Tyson patted the ground next to him expectantly, so she sat down.

“How are you?” she asked, studying him carefully, fingers digging nervously into the parcel in her lap.

“I’m all right.” He shrugged and tilted the bag of fish food in her direction, an offering. Hilary reached in and took a handful. “Sorry I didn’t answer your calls.”

“It’s okay, Tyson.” She knew he needed time to grieve. No matter what Hiro said, she’d never expected Tyson to simply get over it. She couldn't imagine what it was like to lose one of the few tangible lifelines you had to memories with a deceased loved one.

She tossed the food into the pond and watched the colorful fish bob up to the surface for it. She and Tyson continued to feed them, taking turns and pointing out their favorite color patterns and making up names for the ones they could tell apart most easily. It felt like a welcome, if not slightly forced, return to normalcy.

The next time Hilary went for the bag of food, Tyson pulled it out of her reach at the last second with a mischievous grin.

“Hey!” Hilary exclaimed and made to roll onto her knees so she could climb over him for it. Luckily, she remembered the parcel before she knelt on it and sat back where she was. Tyson was watching her curiously so, before she could lose her nerve, she held it out to him and said, “I almost forgot – I got this for you.”

“Is it edible?” Tyson asked, cracking another smile as he set the fish food off to the side and took the gift.

“No.” Hilary was blushing, suddenly feeling like maybe this wasn’t a good idea, but there was no turning back now.

“Gee, Hil, I hope you kept the receipt then,” he joked. Once he ripped the paper off, he went entirely silent.

When Hilary had left with her piece of the tree she’d taken it straight to a local woodworker her parents were friendly with. Something about her breathless explanation of what she was looking for, and the confusing story she told to express why, won him over – he said he was working on other commissions, but promised to make hers a priority.

The finished product had turned out better than she imagined.

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay,” Hilary said once Tyson had been quiet for longer than she anticipated. “You don’t even have to keep it. It just seemed like such a shame to let all that wood burn. If I crossed a line, I’m sorry!”

Tyson gently ran his hand over the picture frame, tracing the delicate floral pattern that was carved into it. Hilary was happy that, seeing it in his hands, it looked like it would be a perfect fit for the photo from the other day.

“Like I said, if you don’t like it—”

Tyson cut her off by surging to his knees and yanking her into his arms. Hilary squealed, momentarily afraid that they were going to overbalance and fall into the koi pond, but Tyson had just as tight of a hold on her as he did on the picture frame.

She wrapped her arms around his ribs, surprised and startled to feel them shake with a sob.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

Hilary’s only answer was to hold him tighter.

#beyblade #mayblade 2023 #mayblade after party #I was so excited to write this one and I think I like it but I've officially read it Too Many Times and now it gives me this feeling: 🥴#I'm sure it'll pass lol #TyHil #azrfic #azikarue #azikarue394 #also this is my 100th post on this sideblog! :O

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