Spirit Tales (The Millennium Wolves AU)
Chapter Twenty-Two

A/N: A short reminder for you to PAY ATTENTION to the dates/years at the start of the chapters from now on.

2004

“Rosa!”

The golden-eyed girl turned to look at the boy who ran toward her. A bright smile spread over her little face and she jumped into his arms with a tight hug. “Brock,” she whispered, sinking all of the love she felt for him in this one word.

“Your Yokata is pretty,” Brock pointed at Rosa’s clothes, at the pink, flowery Yokata she wore. “It suits the scene.”

Rosa giggled, taking Brock’s hand in hers. “”Let’s go, Brockie. We need to make it before the Light’s Festival begins.”

The boy nodded, and the two started walking between the many booths and people who attended the event with their families. They stopped at one of the booths - a dartboard booth. Brock told the vendor he wanted to try his luck. Rosa laughed when he missed the board twice, but on the third time, the boy made it and got a fluffy stuffed-animal of a dog. “For you,” he handed Rosa the dog, and she took in her arms, blushing slightly.

“You shouldn’t have,” she whispered, embarrassed.

Brock chuckled and took her hand. “For you, Rosa, I’ll do anything,” he said in his light voice, the one that made Rosa smile that smile he loved so much.

The two walked hand in hand toward a crowd of people, where they knew the Light Ceremony would take place. They saw people around them - couples in particular - setting their lamps for action, and the two looked at each other and smiled. “I have five dollars,” Rosa said quietly, “how much do you have?”

“Ten,” Brock said triumphantly, “Let’s buy one!”

With their fifteen dollars, they managed to get a plastic orange lamp. They made their way to the middle of the big group at the square and waited a little impatiently until the Light Festivities began. But before that, Brock took out a black pen from his pocket and took the lamp from Rosa’s hands. “What are you doing?” she asked him, surprised.

He didn’t respond, but wrote something on the lamp’s surface. Rosa studied the writing once he was finished and her face turned crimson. “You can’t write that!” she exclaimed, gasping.

Brock grinned. “But I love you, Rosa,” he said with his own brand of honesty, “and I plan to be with you forever and ever, so why not?” he gestured toward the writing, which read, ’Rosa X Brock = Broza.”

“It’s a-a-awkward!” Rosa put her face in her hands, embarrassed, but Brock didn’t care. He pulled her into his arms, tightening her to his chest. She softened at once and hugged him back.

He leaned his forehead against hers and smiled, his emerald eyes twinkling. “I love you, Rosa,” he said without any hesitation, any mask, as though it was a fact set in stone.

Rosa wanted to look anywhere but at Brock, but she couldn’t - instead, she found herself staring into his eyes, her ginger hair blowing in the warm wind of Spring. “I love you, Brock,” she said ever so quietly, her blush deepening.

Determination lit up in Brock’s eyes, and his smile turned even more radiant, until Rosa wondered if it was possible to go blind from smiles. “I’m going to marry you when we turn eighteen,” he said, his voice light but the meaning very serious, “I’m going to marry you, and we’re going to run away from the orphanage together.”

Rosa knew she shouldn’t hope and that she shouldn’t expect this dream to come true. By this point, she’d already known hopes and dreams weren’t worth much - her time at the orphanage proved it to her. But when Brock said it, when Brock offered her freedom, offered her to be with him forever… “I would love that,” she said quietly, “but we’d have to take Charlotte with us as well. She wouldn’t be able to take care of herself without us.”

Brock nodded and his hold on Rosa’s hands tightened. “We’ll make it out of this place, Rosa,” he said quietly, “you’ll see.”

And with these words, the two lit up their lamps and sent it to the sky, watching how it flew with the rest of the lamps into the air, in the middle of the starlit sky, all the while holding hands tightly, and never letting go.

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