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Takatora wishes he knew why he chose to go to Charmant after that awkward conversation with his brother, but he, quite frankly, doesn’t.
It’s not like he really visits many locations consistently, though, so maybe it isn’t surprising.
“I… Nii-San, I would like to work with you. With the restoration.”
It’s not that complicated a question, really. Mitsuzane has valuable knowledge of the events which occurred in Zawame, and on Helheim’s nature. He is, as far as Takatora can tell, completely repentant. Takatora had never been incorrect about his potential.
And he’s the only person on Earth with a functioning Helheim-oriented transformation device.
(The realization that there were so many other had been a rather interesting realization for Takatora, but he’s grateful for the aid offered.)
Even on the personal front, it’s such good news. Mitsuzane has quietly refused to request anything or state opinions, and his most stable occasion was directly connected to the battle he’d participated in since Takatora’s revival.
And yet…
“I see… I will need time to consider, Mitsuzane.”
“Of course, Nii-San.”
This question shouldn’t be so damn complicated.
“And what is my glorious melon doing in my place of business looking so distraught?”
Takatora blinks, realizing that Oren is right in front of him. His words are cavalier but the camaraderie is clear in his eyes. That’s another thing Takatora doesn’t know how to deal with, the way the other survivors quickly welcomed him as one of them.
True, Oren could on occasion be overbearing, but he was undeniably welcome without expectation.
And he too had found himself tasked with the care of one of the younger survivors.
Maybe that’s why Takatora had come here.
“Mitsuzane asked to aid me,” he admits. “I’m sure he would not need my direct consent for a basic volunteer role, which means he either desires my permission or… he would like to work directly alongside me.”
Oren hmms, sitting down across from him.
“I see,” he says. “I’m not sure I see the problem. I know for many, atonement is as therapeutic as it is helpful.”
“I just don’t know if it will be,” Takatora replies. “For Mitsuzane.”
Oren hmms, leaning back.
“So you don’t trust the raisin , then?” He asks. “I wouldn’t blame you.”
“No,” Takatora says, immediately. “That is to say… I don’t believe he will commit atrocities again. However… I don’t…”
“You don’t know him,” Oren says, and somehow he nails it exactly.
Takatora does not know Mitsuzane. He can’t reconcile this shell with the monster he’d fought to the death, can’t reconcile either with the dutiful brother full of potential he had once known.
Can’t reconcile said dutiful brother with the street dancer Takatora had never known.
So perhaps there’s something he’s missing, and it makes this simple choice far more nerve wracking than it has any right to be.
“Would you like a cake, my glorious melon?” Oren asks, obviously noticing as Takatora puts the pieces together.
“Yes, thank you,” Takatora says, absentmindedly.
How does he fix this?
In the fight with Mitsuzane, Takatora remembers having thought of how much he failed his brother, though he doesn’t realize how much until he digs up the old Beat Rider footage.
There are hours of it, and in all of it that Gaim is a part of, Mitsuzane’s smile is bright.
He watches the way Mitsuzane always stands right near the front during Invess Games battles, not fighting but protecting his team nonetheless.
He watches the way he dances, effortlessly. The smile Takatora has seen perhaps once or twice in the past two or three years. This is where he wore it.
It begins to put things into perspective. Mitsuzane had distanced himself from Takatora long before the betrayal. It was in some ways an admirable act, as it showed Mitsuzane’s initiative, his cleverness. Things Takatora had always been so incredibly proud of his brother for.
How must he have felt when Takatora spoke ill of the Beat Riders, the people who allowed him to be significantly closer to his true self?
Rider battles. Ah, that had been after he threatened Kazuraba. Mitsuzane had stepped up to protect his team.
Things continue to make sense. What pieces must have driven Mitsuzane into digging his own hole reveal themselves.
Takatora had so utterly failed Mitsuzane.
And yet… hadn’t Kazuraba given him this chance so as to fix things, to help guid Mitsuzane properly?
Because somehow, Takatora thinks, Mitsuzane has forgiven his own flaws.
He… has a chance.
“Mitsuzane.”
Mitsuzane looks up from the breakfast he had barely touched to look at Takatora with a mostly clear expression. Good, that makes this conversation even easier.
“Why would you like to work with the restoration?” He asks. Mitsuzane blinks.
“I…” he starts. “I know I made things worse, here. I can’t go back, but I can try to help heal the scars I left. Isn’t that what you’re doing, Nii-San? And Kouta… he saved our world. It’s our jobs to take care of it, in his honor.”
Takatora takes in the words, processes them. These make sense, truly, feel sincere.
He doesn’t distrust his brother.
He distrusts himself, truly.
“I can arrange a job for you beginning next month,” he says, instead. “Will that be alright?”
The expression on Mitsuzane’s usually empty face is relief, and Takatora wonders if Mitsuzane knows how much Takatora himself feels it, as well.
“Yes,” he says. “Thank you, Nii-San.”