Chapter Text
Dear Pairo,
There is not enough paper, no amount of text or music, and not enough breath in the world that could say everything I wish to tell you. I hope that the things I must say, those that are vital to your understanding, can fit here at least.
Let’s start as simply as possible.
I remember your laughter, your ingenuity, your compassion, and your intelligence with reverence and with love. I see it in the faces of the people who are dear to me, and, if I’m allowed to say so, on my best days I can see it in myself. It is a bittersweet experience, knowing that there are ways that I still carry you with me, and yet I will never see you again.
My misguided hope is that one day I will join you, but in truth, I know I’m undeserving.
Apologies must begin when you fell off the cliff while we played together. I don’t know how you could bear to be around me after my recklessness caused you to lose your vision and your mobility. I caused you more pain than a child should ever endure.
When I wanted to make up for it, I swore to you that I would find you a doctor. In the six weeks after I left, I don’t think I ever really looked. I was too busy indulging in novelties; new sweets and experiences. I left on a mission, and did nothing that wouldn’t be on the itinerary of a spoiled tourist. I lost focus on the goal I set to help you. I won’t try to assuage my guilt. I thought I had more time, but it was all time wasted. During the six weeks of my grand, selfish adventure, I lost you.
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say that. As precious as you are to me, the true loss was yours. You lost your life. You were brutally tortured and ruthlessly murdered, alongside your parents, friends, and everyone else you’ve ever known. How selfish am I to act as if my pain can come anywhere close to yours? And worse still, as if my absence wasn’t enough, I dawdled. It took weeks to get myself onto the train home. My reward was ash and rubble.
The locals claimed they feared disease. Your bodies had been burned on a pire while I laid on a stranger’s couch, unable to leave or even stand for the weight of my grief. The scene was well documented though; I’ll admit that in the town’s favor. I snuck into their police department after they refused to show me the crime scene photos, and I’m still unsure whether you would have admonished or praised me for my stubbornness. The photos were visceral. I can still see them when I close my eyes. Your headless body is etched into the insides of my eyelids. At the time, I didn’t know who had committed such a heinous act, but I dedicated myself to finding them.
For years I followed the hushed whispers describing the Phantom Troupe, a collection of bandits who stole pieces of you out of greed. I trained myself tirelessly so that I could avenge you and our family. I tracked down several of what remains of the scarlet eyes, so that at least a few of us could have what passes as a proper burial. I killed a paltry number of the Troupe’s men.
Every waking hour, I think of whether I am doing enough. Could I be doing more to serve you and the rest of the Kurta in their death. I promise that I spare no resources, not even my life, in this endeavor. I am single-minded in my quest, and I pray every day that this can atone for what I have done, and what I may do to achieve this goal.
Your friend, always,
Kurapika