Chapter Text
It was a quiet park, the movement of people buzzing further in the distance, and Yashiki sat by a small lake on a wooden bench drinking coffee. It was an appropriate spot, he pondered, and glanced at his watch absentmindedly.
"He's late."
It didn't bother him all that much. Mashita was often late for most things and he had gotten used to it. He mused to himself at how rude he thought that was the first time it happened until he became tired of taking offense from it. He had come better prepared this time, and seemingly Mashita had been merciful enough to pick a meeting place that was much more pleasant to wait in. Much to Yashiki's surprise, he didn't have to wait much longer, a voice from his right pulling him back into the present.
"Kujou."
He turned around to see Mashita, dressed the same as always, grimacing after saying the name. Yashiki considered if he should be offended by that, but it was such a childish reaction he couldn't help but chuckle at it.
"What's with that look?"
"Gotta get used to that." The man took off his coat and dropped on the bench next to him, scoffing. "It still hasn't sunk in at all to me. Not to mention-" He lights a cigarette, and offers one to Yashiki, who takes it without a second thought. "-you seem to barely use the name yourself, too."
"It's been a confusing couple of months. I'm not really sure what to do about it, and it hasn't been important enough to bother with it." He took a slow drag and leaned back. "I just feel conflicted when I think about it, I guess."
"Hm." Mashita only gave him short glances, and chewed his lip slightly. "What's there to be so conflicted about? You got your memories back, didn't you?"
Yashiki gave him a small smile without thinking, appreciative that he would want to know.
"I did. But I just... I don't feel like I'm Masamune at all."
It definitely sounded weird finally saying it out loud after all this time taking care of the Kujou affairs. "My past self is someone I barely recognize."
"Then just stay as Yashiki." He says it so matter-of-fact, as if Yashiki hadn't thought about that himself, and it earns Mashita a short glare of annoyance, but it wasn't actually meant in a condescending way, even though it looked and sounded like such. "I don't see why you have to change back if you don't like it."
"It's about more than that, you know..." Mashita stared back blankly, his upper lip curved slightly as if to say 'No, I don't', so he sighed. "Even if I feel attached to my new name, that doesn't erase who I used to be, and what that means."
Mashita didn't reply, prompting him to continue, but that's exactly what Yashiki had been avoiding doing for months. He pressed his fingers on the bridge of his nose and stared vacantly into the distant surface of the lake. It felt like he was digging into the depths of his heart and unearthing a grave.
"As the last of the family, and as Saya's brother... I can't just abandon the name behind."
Mashita's eyes didn't change, but followed him intently on every word. He had a quiet expression, it didn't carry any pity with it and it made Yashiki feel a little more comfortable continuing to speak.
"I have Masamune's memories, and for all intents and purposes I AM him. But before and after recovering those memories there's just a disconnect between who I was and the person I am now. I..." He could feel himself starting to ramble, but the detective didn't seem annoyed at all, and it was starting to disarm his defenses a little. "It's like I was split apart and I can't go back, but it's not like I'm an entirely different person either. Things about him feel mine just as much as others don't."
"Hm..." It was a neutral response, like he just wanted to reassure he was paying attention. "Like what? Which ones are 'yours'?"
"Well..." He smoked to buy time, and leaned forward to think, elbows resting on his legs. "I guess... Saya. The memories of Saya."
Yashiki's eyes became even more distant and he fell quiet. The water's surface was still and the voices of people seemed really far away, and he felt his mind wander without asking for permission, bringing about not only images of her face, but of the flowers that burst from her chest, coated in blood and spreading grotesquely out of her innards, her soft dark hair covering her expression. His thoughts were off in a world of his own, it felt like he was being choked again.
"She..." He didn't notice his voice coming out rather shaken. "Even after, she still..." He was gritting his teeth. The pain was only psychological, but it felt like he was being consumed from the inside out, cracking into pieces and being reduced to nothingness. It was becoming nearly impossible to continue speaking.
A warm hand landed on the middle of his back, and rubbed it gently. He turned to see Mashita's eyes stay on him with a patient yet firm expression, like he was an affixed stone in the middle of a strong current. He wanted to embrace him, hold him tight and never let go, because he was terrified of the place this river was taking him to, and he felt so very much alone. But another fear froze him in place, something crawling around his heart and whispering to him, over and over, that he would kill him. That somehow, his presence itself was harmful, that Mashita would be in danger, and he would die too. He wanted him to live and thrive, for him to be happy, and felt there wasn't a place for cursed man like him by his side. His hands reached for him and stopped themselves, he struggled to find something, anything that would allow for an escape, so that he could keep Mashita safe from himself. He felt so isolated and desperate, and got up wordlessly, scrambling backwards. Mashita caught his wrist, which ended up nearly throwing them both off balance, before getting up himself to hold Yashiki in place by the arm.
There weren't any words in human language that could help Yashiki articulate himself or put order to his erratic thoughts in a way that would sound even barely coherent, and Mashita didn't know what to say either. He didn't want to ask why he was trying to flee. He felt that if it was something that the man could put in a sentence, he would have. So instead he searched for something else to say, his gaze falling to the floor for a few seconds before returning to look straight into Yashiki's eyes.
"...It's not your fault."
Yashiki's eyes welled up, his expression stuck in a mix of shock and grief before turning into an anguished frown, causing the tears to run down his face. He clenched his jaw, still unable to say anything, wanting to shake off the hold Mashita had on him but not having the strength to do so, pitifully pulling his wrist away to no effect. He stared back at the man, struggling to wring out words from his chest.
"...Yes, it is."
"No, it isn't-" Mashita drew closer and Yashiki recoiled pathetically, stumbling and causing the both of them to fall. Mashita tried to soften the impact, holding the back of Yashiki's neck and bracing his arm, landing on top of him. The small shock of hitting the ground together made them disoriented for a moment, and Mashita looked down to see that the man below him had a tense, yet vacant look to his eyes, cheeks stained with tears. He sighed and caressed his face, making Yashiki jump and seemingly return to reality in one go, wanting to seemingly run away still but unable to move, continuing to cry. Mashita kissed him softly, from his forehead to the bridge of his nose and then each of his cheeks, wiping new tears as they came, and lifted him gently to help him sit up before pulling their bodies close together, hugging him tightly. It seemed to make Yashiki cry more, and he could feel him shaking in his arms.
"Shh..." He ran his fingers on the back of man's hair slowly and rubbed his back, keeping them close. Yashiki wanted to push him away, he wanted Mashita to run and leave him behind, to save himself. He felt his warmth permeate around him and the scent of cigarettes on his clothes, and the skin of his neck against his face. A deep pain rang out from within him and he continued to sob weakly, slowly wrapping his arms around Mashita's back and gripping onto him desperately. He cried, his mind wrapped in a blanket of fear and self-loathing, starting to dig his fingers on his clothes, not knowing whether he was crying or screaming anymore. 'I want to die', the thought rang out in his head, and he swallowed painfully. He felt warm kisses on the side of his face, and the hold around him never wavering. Mashita swayed Yashiki in his arms slightly, back and forth with him while petting his hair, and they stayed together, until speaking started to become more tenable.
"If I, hadn't-" There were gasps of breath breaking up his words. "If, I hadn't opened that box..."
"That thing would've eventually broken off its restraints and become unstoppable." Mashita did not let him complete that thought. He knew where it was going, and he wasn't about to let him go off the deep end. "You did what you could."
"Taking the nejibutsu out of her, was a mistake." The hands on Mashita's back gripped tighter. "Because of what I did, Saya..." He choked a on a loud sob.
"You did. What you could." Mashita wasn't the greatest at this. He pulled Yashiki back by the shoulders, holding onto him firmly, and looked him in the eyes. "Stop... blaming yourself like this."
"But-" Hands held his face before he could reply.
"It's not your fault, Kazuo!" He roared, frustrated. It took the other man by surprise, like a cold bucket of water being dumped over him. He stared dumbfounded, and watched as small tears fell off of Mashita's eyes. "You idiot...!" Mashita looked downwards, the strength being drained from his face, starting to just cuss at him mindlessly. "I'm fucking fed up of watching you torture yourself like this for no reason, you asshole..." Yashiki's face twisted slightly in anger.
"Don't you talk about my sister's death like it means nothing."
"That's not what I mean and you know that." Their tone was fluctuating between confusion and pain, delicateness leaving the conversation. "It's not your damn fault and here you are beating yourself over it, again and again, every time I see you. And you don't even talk to me about any of it, you smile and pretend everything's fine, and I'm not going to grill you on that every time, but how do you think it feels to be walled off from helping you like this?!" He gripped the collar of Yashiki's shirt and shook him helplessly, his face going from anger to a deep sadness. He had never realised Mashita considered his state of mind to that extent, even though he knew he was formidable in reading him.
"I-" He swallowed, feeling the walls around him melt. "I don't want the same thing to happen to you, because of me..."
He felt a slap hit his face before he could even register anything more that was going on, and in seconds Mashita had pushed him into the ground, lying on top of him and holding him down by the collar.
Mashita's eyes were raging storms, shaking like furious waves, before pouring over Yashiki.
"Don't... leave me behind too..."
Yashiki's eyes widened, realizing what that meant.
"I just... want you to survive-"
"I make my own choices as to how I live my life!" He screamed, shaking Yashiki's collar and making the back of his head bump back down. "And... I already chose you..."
Mashita's tears hit Yashiki's cheeks before he leaned into his chest, not having the energy to push him down anymore.
"I don't... want to be the reason you die..." He wrapped his arms around Mashita's back tentatively, and felt the man nuzzle into his neck, his voice coming out muffled.
"If you think I'm that easy to get rid off you got another thing coming, idiot." Neither of them really reacted to this, Mashita having half-meant it and Yashiki taking it as an exaggerated taunt. "I said it's not your fault, because it isn't, and you're not going to kill me off that easily." He lifted his face up a little to look at him, pouting slightly. Yashiki felt himself speechless, without the energy to argue and emotionally sore. He was sad, but somewhat less than how he started as, being unable to describe what had changed.
"I guess... you'll just do whatever you want, regardless of what I tell you, huh?"
"That's right." He hugged around Yashiki's waist quietly, nesting his head on his chest again. "I'll prove it wasn't your fault."
"Prove...?" Yashiki shot him a tired questioning look, and Mashita looked away.
"It's what detectives do. I'll prove your innocence to you, no matter how long it takes."
Quietly and wordlessly tears descended Yashiki's face, and he hugged Mashita tightly.
"Thank you, Satoru."