I do not own No. 6
Just a drabble thing because I adore Karan
The gentle grace of a mother's touch was something that Nezumi hadn't felt in years. After so much time weathering away at his memories, the touch was foreign to him as if he hadn't ever felt it at all. Have mothers always been so soft?
He has to bend over slightly for Karan to reach and wrap frail arms around his neck. She presses tight, and it's almost protective the way that she wraps herself around him like a shawl. Her warmth is glowing, and she shields him away from the horrors of the past and the loneliness of now with that maternal fabric, coddling him into believing he was a wide eyed child again, untouched by the world.
"Thank you," she murmurs, and her voice reflects the utmost gratitude that Nezumi was sure that he had ever heard. The gentleness of her voice floats around him, yet still bounds with so much emotion like a warm breeze.
And she was so accepting of anything that he was, because she knows he is Nezumi and that is enough for her to drop the tray of pastries unceremoniously. After four years, a simple inquiry of where her son might be earns him a tight embrace. Between the notes and Sion's words, he feels a connection with this woman who continues thanking him for keeping her son safe in years past, but for her to unconditionally accept him without so much as a name is astonishing.
Sion is lucky to have Karan as a mother.
And after she pulls away with tears in the corners of her eyes, signs of wrinkles starting to show, she places a hand on his cheek and warm chestnut eyes radiate with love, "He's missed you," she tells him with a small smile, "I'm glad that you've come home."
Home. An abstract idea that he had avoided since he was at the age of twelve, when all it meant was a threshold of wood and stone. Now, he is given an opportunity to make it mean smiles and affection, warm food and books, company and family. Sion's mama had to be an angel, to accept a ragged rebel like him into her home.
Nezumi nods quietly, and he's unsure of how to react besides letting himself be pulled further into the home, past the doorway and into strong scents of baking and spices. He had mentally prepared himself for meeting with the white haired boy again, how to approach the years of emotion and separation. Being smothered by an overjoyed Karan, was not anticipated, though, although he found himself pleasantly enjoying the warmth of her munificent personality.
"He'll be home soon, alright? Let me go get you something to eat," Karan stammered and patted his shoulder in a maternal gesture, and he heard her whisper how happy Sion would be with a refulgent smile. Grey eyes watch her patter off into another room, and he's reminded of Sion's mannerisms, and how similar he is to the smaller woman.
Karan brings him back an enormous amount of food, including the steaming soup that Sion and he had coined together-and secretly, he really did think that Karan's version was better with the fullness of warm flavors. She's unabashed in asking him about his travels and how he has been, with the same kind of warm ambiance that his own mother would have. He can't help but relax, and truly enjoy her company before the door opens and she offers him a knowing smile before slipping into another room.