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It was one of those rare days when Rantaro was actually in town to spend time with his friends, so of course he was trying not to worry about anything else and merely enjoy the time they had together. The sun was shining overhead, and the slight breeze was welcomed, if not actively wanted for. It was a nice, warm day, so Kirumi (the Ultimate Maid and the one who was always taking care of them) packed a big lunch and they all took a small field trip to the park closest to Hope’s Peak Academy to have a small picnic.
As usual, Rantaro’s friends were wasting no time in losing any and all self restraint. It seemed that even being in a public park with children playing only meters away wouldn’t stop them from being themselves. Miu had tied her blonde hair up into a high ponytail, and when poor Gonta praised the change style, she immediately began to make as many lewd jokes as possible. This prompted Tsumugi to speak up in the larger boy’s defense, arguing that Gonta was far too much of a gentleman to have any hidden meanings in his compliments, and Miu squealed in response to being called out by one of the most plain girls in the class. (Miu’s words, of course; Rantaro would never think such a thing about Tsumugi, but it didn’t help matters that Tsumugi called herself plain every other word.)
Kokichi had managed to coerce Kaito into helping him pickpocket a couple teenagers who were doing nothing but minding their own business across the park. Rantaro would never figure out how the Ultimate Supreme Leader had managed to do so, because Kaito had pretty strong morals, though if he had to guess, Kokichi had likely challenged the Ultimate Astronaut’s pride. That would do it for Kaito.
Maki was grumbling as Kaede and Angie braided her hair, but secretly she must have been a little pleased because her cheeks were flushed and she was letting them do it without much complaint. Himiko was watching, starry eyed (probably because of Angie’s involvement) and Tenko stood nearby, trying not to look too much like she was pouting. Ryoma, Kiibo, Kirumi, and Kiyo had taken over the tennis court nearby, where Ryoma was attempting to show Kiibo an effective way to yield a racket. It pleased Rantaro to see this display, because from his understanding, Ryoma still felt insecure about his tennis abilities from time to time, and the patient way that Kiibo was listening to his advice had to be incredibly validating. Kirumi looked as though she knew what she was doing, but she appeared to be standing by to throw in balls or fetch them when they rolled away. Kiyo was observing politely but perhaps a little oddly to the side.
Rantaro debated going over and asking Kiyo to join in rather than merely watching, but it occurred to him suddenly that he hadn’t accounted for every one of his classmates, and the notion troubled him, so he turned around to look for the young man in question.
Shuichi wasn’t really one of the more rambunctious of students at Hope’s Peak, Rantaro understood as much, but he usually tried to engage in conversation. At the very least, he would sit by Kaito or Kaede, one or both of whom he seemed to have a crush on (though Rantaro, who was rarely romantically inclined towards anymore, had a difficult time discerning such things) and occasionally add to the conversation. One on one, he was more talkative and certainly thoughtful, often able to provide a good perspective on things that would not have been attainable through anybody else, but in a group setting he usually sat to the side and listened silently, an amused or unreadable smile playing on his features.
But, at that particular moment in time, Shuichi was seated at one of the picnic tables with his face buried in his arms, undisturbed at the edge of the group. This struck Rantaro as odd, because while Shuichi wasn’t necessarily famous for his ability to get healthy amounts of sleep at night, he also wasn’t prone to falling asleep randomly. (There was an upperclassman at their school named Chiaki Nanami who had, on multiple occasions, dozed off in place in the middle of conversation with Rantaro, but while perhaps Shuichi and Nanami were similar in disposition, it was unlikely that they had narcolepsy in common.)
It didn’t seem as though Shuichi was very keen on engaging in any conversations right at that moment. This was perfectly understandable in its own right, and it was entirely possible that he was simply feeling over stimulated (as tended to happen with introverts) but Rantaro figured it might be a good idea to check on him anyway, just in case something was wrong. He would hate to learn in a day or so that something had been going with Shuichi, and he could’ve helped, had he chosen to speak to him.
With this in mind, Rantaro rose to his feet from his spot in the grass and walked over to the picnic table, dropping soundlessly into the seat across from Shuichi. A moment later, the teen before him raised his head from his arms, grey eyes lifting to meet his gaze. When Shuichi saw that it was Rantaro sitting in front of him, a small smile touched his features, but the Ultimate Adventurer couldn’t help noticing that the expression barely seemed to be felt. It wouldn’t be very tactful to comment on it just yet, though, so he chose not to, instead returning the gesture.
“Hey, Shuichi, everything okay?” He asked gently, leaning forward and resting his head on his arms so that he could be at eye level with the detective. Shuichi averted his gaze, perhaps in response to the sudden proximity of their faces, and shrugged.
“Uhm, yes…?” Rantaro would have readily accepted the answer had it not come with a lilt at the end. Skeptically, he lifted one of his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side with an unspoken question. Thankfully, it appeared that Shuichi had realised as much and readily continued, his volume somewhat inhibited by his arms, which were partially covering his mouth. “Well, I, uh, got some news from America, and I suppose I’m a little bit taken off guard as a result, but really, it’s nothing, so…”
It’s nothing, hm? Rantaro made no verbal indication that he had heard just yet, wondering what course of action would be wise for him to take. With some people, when they dismissed a problem as nothing, it really was nothing, and the best thing to do in that instance would be to leave them alone. But in other cases, sometimes the best way to go about it would be to pressure them into talking about it. Rantaro wasn’t a fan of that option, because he had faith in his friend’s ability to both care for himself and judge his own limits, but on the other hand, sometimes people dismiss things as nothing when they really want the asker to push them a little into elaborating. And from time to time, he came across somebody who was fond of bottling up their emotions, and as a result had to push a little harder.
It seemed, though, that Shuichi wouldn’t need much pushing at all, because when Rantaro didn’t respond, he must have taken that to signify disbelief, and continued to speak. “I-It’s just, I mean, it’s not a big deal, or anything- I mean, it sounds like a big deal, but the circumstances are different, so it really, really isn’t- and honestly, I don’t want anybody to feel bad or give any kind words so I haven’t said anything about it, but- only, I- well, I just received news that my mom passed away.”
Despite the amount of time that it took Shuichi to reach this news, it still surprised Rantaro to hear the words. But even if he was surprised by it, perhaps letting it show too strongly on his features would be unhelpful. He did allow a frown to touch his expression, however, and he sat up a little bit straighter, wondering if it would be crossing a boundary for him to reach out and take Shuichi’s hand. (He decided against it.) “That’s terrible, Shuichi, I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“Ah, no, don’t-” Shuichi sighed, and sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t apologise, please, I didn’t even know her.” He muttered the last part as though he was ashamed of it, and Rantaro said nothing, inviting him to elaborate. “Obviously, I mean, she gave birth to me, but she and my father moved overseas for work when I was really young, so…” his voice tapered off and it occurred to Rantaro that this was the first time he’d ever heard the Ultimate Detective talk about his parents. It wasn’t as though it was a rarity, among his classmates, for somebody to be an orphan, but… well, somehow, it felt worse, for them to have left.
Rantaro wondered what to say. Truthfully, he wanted to ask Shuichi how he was feeling, having found out about this, but… there wasn’t a very good way to ask that question, was there? And it wasn’t his place, either… if Shuichi wanted to talk about it, he would. And as a matter of fact…
“Besides, I’m… kind of ashamed to admit it, but I don’t even feel that sad about it.” Shuichi’s gaze could have been burning a hole into the ground beside them. “I know she’s the biggest reason why I even exist, but it’s like hearing that an actor I once liked has passed away. I know that I should feel really sad about it, and the loss of human life is always tragic, but I just… I barely feel more than an ache in the pit of my stomach.” Rantaro nodded, and kept his mouth shut. “I’m more angry, really…”
“Angry?” Rantaro repeated.
“I know, it sounds horrible to be feeling this way after my mom died, but I’m angry at her for leaving. Now more than ever. I feel like I had the right to mourn her death, you know? It feels like she’s taken this away from me. This right to feel sad after she’s passed.” Shuichi spat the words like they tasted bitter. “I deserved… I don’t know what I deserved, but I wish I could feel more upset. And more than I’m angry at her, I’m angry at myself for not being able to feel as sad as I should, about this. It’s my mother. I should be grieving her death, no matter what she’s done or- or what she hasn’t done. I feel this crushing guilt and anger in the pit of my stomach because there is so much sadness that I’ve experienced as a result of other things happening, but not this.”
For a moment, Rantaro wasn’t sure if it was the right place to intervene, but he spoke anyway, trying to keep his gaze from leaving Shuichi’s face, even if the detective had yet to meet his eyes. “You know, it’s alright to be angry at her for leaving. It’s as you said, you didn’t know her, so you don’t have to feel guilty for not feeling as sad as you should.”
“Y-Yes, but…” Rantaro’s eyes were drawn to Shuichi’s hands, which were resting atop the table. They clenched into fists as he debated saying what he wanted to say, and it was all the Adventurer could do not to reach out and take one of them. “I’m also angry at myself for being upset to begin with. I don’t owe my mother anything. Not my grief, or my shame. And I feel… I feel weak, for letting this affect me.”
Finally, Shuichi had nothing left to say. As soon as the words left his mouth, he closed his eyes and turned his head away, as though he couldn’t bear to see the expression that Rantaro might be making. It was remarkable emotional integrity from the other man, but Rantaro couldn’t help wanting to cry when he thought about how much inner turmoil this must be causing.
“Shuichi, you…” it was a genuine struggle for Rantaro to find the right words to say. “You know, it’s… okay. I mean, it’s okay for you to be feeling like this. Like all of this.” A small hum was the only response given, and he figured he would have to say more than that to get his point across. “You’re allowed to feel only slightly terrible about your mother’s death and you’re allowed to feel terrible about not feeling very terrible about your mother’s death. Any feelings that you’re having right now are okay, you know? And you’re allowed to hate yourself and stew in self doubt and and feel shitty for as long as you need to, or maybe even a little bit longer, but-” Rantaro broke off, and now Shuichi met his gaze, eyes (unsurprisingly) swimming with tears. “Then, afterwards, you should remember that you’re not weak, and you’re not selfish, and it’s okay to feel the way that you feel.”
Those words sank in for much longer than what would’ve been comfortable for Rantaro, but eventually Shuichi wiped his eyes with his sleeve, nodding vigorously. “You’re right.” He mumbled, then cleared his throat and spoke louder, voice shaky but definitive at the same time. “You’re right, Rantaro, god, I just-” and there, Shuichi laughed, pulling his hand away from his face and shaking his head. “I don’t know. I feel like crap and all morning I’ve been trying to push away my feelings and just enjoy myself with everybody.”
“Well,” Rantaro offered. “Don’t do that.” And then Shuichi laughed again, running a hand through his hair and nodding. “Seriously, y’know, you should let yourself feel sad. I do it all the time, and look at where I’ve gotten.”
“Ah, well… in that case, maybe I shouldn’t do as you advised…?” Rantaro gasped, putting a hand on his chest, and prepared to express his indignation, but before he could say anything, Shuichi leaned forward and did what Rantaro had been wanting to do the entire time; he took his hand. “I’m just kidding, I promise… thank you, Rantaro, I needed to hear that.”
Rantaro buffered. “N-No problem?” It wasn’t supposed to come out as a question, but seeing Shuichi smile at him like that with tears still shining in his eyes and with their hands connected was making him short circuit. (Which didn’t happen often, to be sure.) He cleared his throat and tried again. “Any time, Shuichi. I… mean that.”
“I believe you.” Shuichi murmured, and he squeezed Rantaro’s hand, staring directly into his eyes.