Work Text:
Death did not suit Kittan well.
Yoko sighed, tossing yet another heavy box towards the door. No use in being gentle with the belongings of a man who'd no longer collect them.
She wiped her forehead, standing tall to look at the progress she'd made so far.
She'd been the only person brave enough to enter his house after he'd... well...
She wasn't brave enough to admit it yet.
She bent down, shuffling through a stack of papers haphazardly laying on his coffee table. It had been tough work thus far - Kittan hadn't been a particularly organized man, and seeing the state he'd let his house fall into had knocked the wind out of Yoko at first.
She wondered how bad he must have been struggling to let his house get this bad.
She wondered if it had anything to do with what happened towards the end.
She knew things hadn't been going well for him. He was stressed from work; he was stressed out from feeling like he wasn't good enough. While he never said it outright, Yoko had inferred it from snippets of conversations they'd briefly shared in the ship. Not once did he say anything about how he felt - just that he'd been working his ass off, and Rossiu had apparently been making things difficult for him to do his job right.
"I prefer the hell out of this," he'd told her during their final fight with the Anti-Spirals. "I'll take a fight over bureaucracy any day."
An office job just wasn't in his nature. In the end, it had dragged him down further than he'd told anyone - even Yoko.
She bent down, picking up a leather-bound book that had previously been covered in unopened mail - probably bills, she assumed. She wiped the grime off the cover tenderly, admiring the surprisingly high quality leather. It was unmarked, the spine of the book barely cracked.
She sighed, debating on whether or not snooping was something she was above.
Then, she turned the cover.
The inside of the book was nothing like she'd expected. She'd found countless dirty mags, and part of her was expecting to find something equally unpleasant, but instead...
The first page was a picture of Kittan with his mecha, smiling next to his sisters. He'd been holding up bunny ears behind Kiyal, who smiled obliviously.
She turned the picture over, reading the capture.
"Day after liberation" was scribbled in dark marker on the back.
Yoko smiled.
She continued flipping through the pages, admiring the various smiling photos of Kittan's sisters with various captions. He was clearly very proud of them.
There were pictures of him with Simon, as well - pictures of them in the office. One that stuck out to Yoko was a photo of Simon hunched over paperwork, Kittan posing in front of the camera with his tongue stuck out and his eyes crossed. Next to it was a second similar photo, but in this one, Simon had been looking up, eyes furrowed in concentration. The third photo in the triptych depicted Simon pulling a goofy face, to which Kittan was in mid-laugh.
She sniffled. She hadn't noticed she'd been crying.
Kittan had his photo album organized by person, she noticed. She flipped through, desperately searching for something - anything - that depicted the two together.
She stopped when she'd found the page.
She and Kittan hadn't spent much time together after Teppelin fell, but one Spring, he'd come out to the island.
Class had just been dismissed, and Yoko had found herself on a walk rather than going straight home. She needed the fresh air - she needed the breeze, and the feeling of freedom that came with it.
The birds were out in full effect today, distant chirps and the silhouettes of wings diving into the water to catch fish bringing a smile to Yoko's face. One of her favorite parts of returning to the surface was how nature seemed to thrive once the dust settled. Grass grew and plants bloomed, bringing life back to the once-barren ruins of humanity. They built around it as best they could, respecting the natural sanctuaries that cropped up as time passed.
It was why Yoko loved the island. Here, she was free of any burden of the city life. She could enjoy the idyllic beauty of the sea, unclouded by the noise pollution of cars and chatter.
She could enjoy life with her kids, which is all she wanted.
"Hey, give that back, you little bastard!"
Yoko turned with a start, eyes wide. Nobody used language like that in front of the kids - not on her watch.
She was greeted by a familiar face - a man with a bright crop of spiked yellow hair, eyes wild and ferocious. He stood tall, posing as though he was about to launch himself at the child in question, who seemed to have taken Kittan's bag.
"Hey," Yoko called out. "What's going on over here?"
Kittan turned.
"This brat just took my lunch! How's a man supposed to eat if these damn kids can't behave themselves?"
"Albi, give that back," Yoko warned. "Just because school's not in session, doesn't mean I can't give you a detention."
The child huffed, slowly offering the bag back to Kittan. He smiled triumphantly, snatching the bag out of the child's hands.
"All better," Yoko said.
"Say, thanks," Kittan responded. "I'm Kittan," he stated, offering a hand.
"I'm Miss Yomako," she responded, shaking his hand delicately and with a giggle.
"Miss Yomako, huh? Wait a minute," he stopped, looking her up and down. "I swear I know you from somewhere."
Yoko slid her glasses off, looking at him with a wink.
"Oh! Yoko!" he exclaimed.
"Shh," she hushed.
"Sorry," he replied in a harsh whisper. "I mean," he continued, louder, "Miss Yomako. What are you doing here?"
"I'm a teacher," she replied.
Kittan nodded. "Well, teach, I was just about to have lunch. Care to join me?"
"Let's make it a picnic," Yoko smiled, gesturing to a rocky outcrop by the ocean that she frequently ate her lunch at.
The picture depicted the two sitting on the rocky outcrop, sharing a sandwich. She was sitting down with her legs crossed, smiling with a mouthful of food. Kittan had crumbs on his face.
Yoko smiled, feeling bittersweet. She remembered that summer vividly. Kittan made a point to come and visit her every week or so - whenever he could get away from work, anyway - and the two would have lunch and catch up.
The next summer, things had gotten harder in Teppelin, and he was no longer able to find time to come see her.
"You said you'd meet my kids someday," she whispered, taking the photograph out of its protective plastic film and holding it close to her chest.
On the next page was a pressed set of flowers arranged in a crown. She remembered making that for him one evening when they'd had a late lunch.
"What are you making?" Kittan asked, skipping another stone against the rough ocean water.
"It's a flower crown," Yoko replied idly, making the final twists in the stems of the flowers that grew abundantly on the island. "Come here."
Kittan turned, and Yoko delicately placed the crown atop his head.
"It suits you," she giggled, and Kittan flushed with a frown.
"I feel like a girl," he mumbled.
"Well, you make a cute girl," Yoko replied, brushing a stray hair out of her face.
"Well, I-," Kittan stuttered. "Thanks? I think?"
Yoko merely smiled in response.
All together, there had been four photos from their picnics and one flower crown, representing the summer they'd bonded during. Representing all the time they'd spent together.
But that was wrong.
They'd spent time together on the ship, too. She knew that, had he made it back, he'd have filled up these pages with small mementos of their time aboard the Super Galaxy Dai-Gurren. And he'd have filled them up with all the new memories they were going to make, too. There was so much that they were meant to do that they would never be able to now that...
She looked around the room, setting the book on top of her box stack gingerly. She'd figure she'd leave it unpacked; Kittan's sisters had far more of a right to this photo album than she did. She figured Kiyoh would be the one to keep it. She hoped that Kiyoh wouldn't mind that Yoko kept this picture for herself.
Her heart ached as she took in what left of Kittan's house.
She only had a few more rooms to go, and then it would be as though he never lived there.