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Fyodor had first seen her under a cherry blossom tree in early March.
He could remember it clearly: she was wearing a knee-length, light pink coat, and black ankle boots. Her straight black hair was left down, free to float in the gentle breeze, and there were a few sakura petals stuck in between her locks.
He remembered that she had turned around, pretty grey eyes widening in curiosity upon seeing him. It was still early in the morning, so there were few other people around, leading him to go outside to take a walk.
Who would have thought he would meet her then?
He remembered how she had smiled at him too. It wasn’t overly large like Nikolai’s, or awkward like Sigma’s, but was sweet, and she bowed his head at him once before walking away.
Fyodor smiled.
What a beauty.
The second time he had seen her was a week later, at a coffee shop Nikolai demanded he tries. It was a pretty shop, with ornate-looking chairs, and wooden tables all around. And at the counter, was the girl, hair tied up in a messy bun as she handed a customer her coffee, and bowed, wishing her a good day.
Fyodor smiled again. Perhaps he would frequent this shop. “Ohayo gozaimasu! What can I get for you today?” She smiled prettily, and Fyodor smiled back calmly. Her name tag read ‘Airi’.
“Ohayo gozaimasu, Miss Airi, could I have a black coffee please?” He smiled at her and she beamed.
“Coming right up!” She pressed a few buttons on the cashier quickly. “That would be 300 yen. would you pay with cash or credit?”
“Cash please,” Fyodor said, taking out his wallet and fishing out the needed money.
Airi quickly repeated the order to her friend, a girl with light purple hair and blue eyes, before accepting his payment and wishing him a nice day, her friend passed her the paper coffee cup, and she passed it to Fyodor.
“Thank you for your patronage! Have a nice day!” She smiled, big almond shape eyes crinkling with her smile.
Fyodor smiled back softly. “Thank you, you too.”
Fyodor walked over to a table and sat down. He had a lot of paperwork at home, but that could wait: he wanted to watch her for a little while longer.
He watched as she smiled at the patrons she greeted, and as she took over her friend’s job and helped her make coffee. The way she moved told of elegance and warmth, something Fyodor had longed for many years.
Unfortunately, he had gotten a call from Nikolai to do his paperwork.
He left the cafe with a soft smile on his lips, promising himself to visit her again the next day.
And so the little routine between the two continued, and Fyodor soon managed to have a few conversations with her. He learned that she had a little brother who was studying in England, liked cats, and preferred cold weather. She liked the color pink, and she loved mystery novels. She had a few friends with who she would hang out on Saturdays.
And over time, she too began seeing Fyodor as more than a friend. And when he invited her on a date, she happily accepted. He confessed underneath the same cherry blossom tree where they had first met, and she had cheerfully accepted his feelings, reciprocating them with a smile.
Another three months passed, and she and Fyodor had gotten engaged. He had gotten her a beautiful, sparkling diamond ring, which all his coworkers were curious about who it was from.
Fyodor was happy.
She was his beautiful, safe haven outside of his role as a member of Decay of the Angels, outside Nikolai’s teasing, outside getting rid of Dazai. She was lovely and kind and sweet, everything he had wanted to be, and yet for some reason, didn’t envy her a single bit. She was his world, and he was her god.
However, in late March, she stopped responding to his texts. The cafe she had worked at had closed for a week. Fyodor was getting worried. He tried to contact her purple-haired friend from the cafe, but she too was not responding.
So he sent out his small rats to find out what had happened to her.
And for three days, he had heard nothing of them. Until one returned, shaking in his boots as he presented the information he had gathered before his boss.
“B-boss, sir, we-we found her, b-but…” he trailed off, worried about what the Boss would do to him once he found out the news about his beloved.
“But what? Spit it out, I don’t have all day,” Fyodor snarled, eager to see his beloved again after a week.
“S-she had been involved in a car accident when she was out with her friend…both her and her friend are still in a coma…but she…she had a punctured lung and two broken ribs, a severe concussion…and…she might have amnesia…she’s at the Yokohama General Hospital, her room is Room 2114…”
Halfway through his report, Fyodor had already stood up, grabbed his cloak, and was out the door.
He got into one of his cars and told the driver to drive to the hospital, running out of the car the second he arrived and dashing to the counter. “I’m here for Miss Kirari Airi, Room 2114,” he panted towards the concierge, desperation clear in his voice.
”Who are you, please? We are only permitted to allow entry to those of her direct family,” the nurse said, voice firm like stone.
“I am her fiance,” Fyodor gritted out. “I wish to see my lover.”
The concierge let him in. As soon as he took a look at her face, cheek bandaged and chest barely rising and falling, he sighed sadly. “Oh, my little myshka. You must have suffered so. Do not fret, for I am here now,” he kissed her palm that he brought to his lips.
She stayed like that for a month, by then, her friend had woken up, and had been diagnosed with mild amnesia, having forgotten everything from three years back. Fyodor was worried, what if she too had amnesia? What if…
…she couldn’t remember him?
What if she couldn’t remember all the cherished moments they had shared, waltzing beneath the moolight, watching the sunset, walking beneath the Sakura trees in the spring?
Despite the evergrowing fear that she would not wake up, Fyodor continued to visit her everyday. Each week, he would replace the boquet in the vase on her beside table with fresh flowers with beautiful white chamomiles and lovely pink roses. He would sit by her side from the moment her visiting hours began and read books to her in his native tongue, and softly sang lullabies to her, in hope of her brisk awakening.
And soon, she did indeed wake up.
And Fyodor’s fear had been realised.
She had concussion and amnesia, and had completely forgotten about him. Her brother, whom he had met after he rushed back upon hearing that his beloved sister was in the hospital, had looked extremely upset when he had told Fyodor the news.
And so, Fyodor rushed to meet her.
“My sweet little myshka. You’re finally awake,” Fyodor smiled, eyes crinkling with a smile that had graced his face after a month of worrying and agony.
“I apologise. Forgive me, I do not remember who you are. I was told that I have amnesia, and am unable to recall the past two years of my life. Would you please tell me your name and inform me of my relationship with you?” she asked, chuckling sheepishly, placing a finger on her cheek.
Fyodor’s black heart shattered.
He turned and ran out of the hospital ward, through the halls, past her brother, out of the hospital doors, through the streets, until he reached his house, where he finally stopped to catch his breath.
He holed up in his room, drinking wine and playing the cello——how could she forget him? Her one true love? Her soulmate?
He holed up in there for a month, doing nothing but reminiscising.
And then it was summer.
And she had called him. She wanted to meet him.
Did she remember him?
Fyodor eagerly awaited the day of the meeting of the two. And he wore the brooch she had given him to hold his cloak together; a pretty ruby-red apple. It was made of red crystals, and had been their anniversary gift a year ago. He had been chauffeured to the agreed location ten minutes before, letting some of the cool sea breeze brush over his face and his neck length black hair floating slightly in the breeze. He looked up at the tree he was standing under, remembering it was the same cherry tree he had first seen her under.
“Hello? You’re Fyodor, right?” she asked, and he turned around. She was wearing a pretty pink empire sundress that went down to her knees, her hair braided loosely, as she smiled, unsure.
”Hello, yes, that is my name. Are you doing well?” He replied, eyes full of love and concern.
She was the only one who could make him feel that way.
”I’m doing better now, and I’ve started work at the cafe again. My brother told me that you were apparently my fiancé before I had been involved in a car accident, leading me to lose all of my memories from a few years prior,” she said.
”That’s right. Do you really not remember me?” He asked.
There was silence for a while as she looked uncomfortable, like she didn’t want to tell him no.
”I’m sorry, I really don’t.”
Fyodor sighed. “It’s alright, don’t apologise, it’s not your fault that you were involved in that accident and lost your memories.”
”I…I don’t know how to sugarcoat this, so I’l just say it now.”
”What is it, my Myshka?” He asked, looking up at her, eyes widening upon the sight of her teary eyes.
”Let’s break up.”
”Wh…why? Did I not treat you well enough? Is it because you don’t remember me?” He asked, panicked, moving to grab her by her arms, only letting go after he noticed how she flinched at the contact.
Stepping back, she rubbed her arms, explaining softly, “I don’t remember you, and I feel nothing for you, so I don’t think it would be fair to watch you suffer as you pine after someone without feelings for you in a one-sided relationship. I’m really sorry for hurting you.”
She asked for him to hold out his hand, then dropped a shiny rose-gold band into it, Fyodor staring at the ring in shock.
“I hope you find happiness in the future,” she bowed, before walking a way, raising one hand to wipe away the tears in her eyes.
Fyodor couldn’t remember how long he stood there for, staring at the ring in his palm. It was large, with a large 2 carat diamond shining brightly in its Center. He remembered carefully picking out this specific ring of all the others in the shop, knowing she would like it best.
He laughed softly, then turned around and went home.
He loved the way she wouldn’t hurt other people, while he left carnage in his very wake.
How ironic, that it would be that to make her leave him.
Even though she had long forgotten about him, he had still loved her, and watched over her. He would stand outside the cafe where she worked for five minutes just after they opened, and five minutes just before the closed to watch her. Her eyes still had that sparkle and shine, and her smile was still as bright as ever.
Fyodor was satisfied with that.
Is this love? He often wondered. The want to just see her smile, without anything in return. The need to make her happy, despite his own heart breaking even further every time he saw her.
But Fyodor wanted to see her smile.
So he watched.
He watched as she greeted her usual patrons, and enthusiastically served any new ones.
He watched as she hung out with that purple haired girl and another friend on Saturdays, going to sing karaoke.
He watched as she met the man she would eventually marry.
He watched as she fell in love with him, becoming a blushing mess after he complimented her.
He watched as he saved her from a robbery, asking her out immediately afterwards.
He watched as he proposed to her, her eyes shining with joy as she accepted.
And he watched as they got married in a cherry blossom garden, sharing their vows underneath the same tree she had left him.
He watched her smile as she lived out his dream for her.
A single teardrop escaped his eye, running down his face, splattering on the ground.
Fyodor sighed as he smiled once more at the sign they had placed outside their wedding venue, from where he was watching.
”Wishing Kirari Airi and Doppo Kunikida many happy years ahead!” The sign read.
Fyodor smiled bitterly, and wished with all his heart that Airi would finally be happy, safe and away from him.
Oh, if this was love, then how cruel it was.
The cherry blossoms were blooming again.
“Boss, we’ve found more intel on the lady’s accident.”
”Hm? What is it?”
”It…it wasn’t an accident. It was planned.”
The boss stilled his movements.
”Planned? By who?”
”Dazai Osamu, sir. He orchestrated it. The intention was to kill or seriously injure, but he gave up after the lady lost her memories of you.”
Fyodor banged his fist on the desk, breathing heavily in anger.
So, he was the one who stole you away from him?
IT WAS HIS FAULT?!
Oh, he was going to pay.
Fyodor would do it with his own two hands.
He’d make sure of it.