Chapter Text
HERE LIES KIRUMI HOSHI, MAY 10, ???? - JULY 1, ????
-
As Ryoma sat atop his wife’s grave in silence, he quietly glanced at the date of her death.
Seventeen years ago, on this day, the world lost an amazing person to the hands of the mafia.
Men could be slain with the weapons they forged with their own hands.
Kirumi fell prey to a gun.
She was shot right between her eyes, and Ryoma swore to God Himself that he knew who killed her.
It was obviously one of the mafia’s dirty tricks.
They had the audacity to show up to his house, kill his wife, on his birthday—and steal all his money.
All those years ago, Ryoma Hoshi was a fool who was too brash and ended up losing everything.
In high school, he thought he could finally free himself from the guilt that plagued him for years.
He was proven wrong after college.
Kirumi had probably been knocked unconscious, tied up, bound and gagged, then she was probably shot.
Ryoma always wondered if he could’ve done more with his life if Kirumi lived past the age of twenty-four.
Maybe start a business, or find new jobs, maybe even adopt a few cats.
But that’s the thing.
Kirumi was gone now, nothing but a memory that would haunt Ryoma forever.
As he snapped back to reality, he was met by a teenage boy holding a red box.
Toshio.
Nekomaru and Akane’s eldest son. He was a nice kid, around sixteen or seventeen years old.
“Oh, er, Uncle Ryoma, are you okay?” Toshio inquired sheepishly. “I dropped by to give you this cake I made. It’s your birthday today, right? Mom and dad told me to give this to you.”
“Yeah, uh, I… I’m fine. Just visiting someone.” Ryoma sighed.
It had been evident that Nekomaru never told Toshio about Kirumi.
Or the kid was just playing dumb and trying not to be rude.
“I… uh… is that your… your… uhh…” Toshio stammered.
“My wife?” Ryoma looked up at the teenage boy.
“Oh, uh, yeah—WAIT, NO, I’M SORRY, I—I OFFER MY CONDOLENCES—“ Toshio started stuttering so much that his sentences became unintelligible sounds.
“I appreciate the cake. Thanks a lot, kid,” said Ryoma.
“Well, er, you’re welcome, Uncle Ryoma.” Toshio was obviously nervous, since he was fidgeting with his fingers and his teeth were practically chattering.
“Hey, uh, would you stay for a moment and listen to a hopeless guy’s life story? I… I know it’s a bit selfish of me to ask you this, but, uh…”
“Nononono, it’s fine! I’ll stay right here-“
…
About fifteen minutes later, Toshio was the one telling his life story.
Ryoma could practically feel his memories rushing back and replaying like cassette tapes.
He could still remember when he met Yuri for the first time, when they got their Russian blue, Sayuri, when his parents came over to surprise them and greeted Ryoma a happy birthday…
Toshio was living through that, but his case was slightly different. No meddling with illegal stuff and the mafia, but he had been bullied through middle school until he met someone.
His current girlfriend, Akako, who he was NOT shutting up about anytime soon.
“Take care of your girlfriend, kiddo. You don’t wanna know what it feels like to lose someone that close to you,” Ryoma would remind Toshio after every minute.
“Alright, uh, I hope you enjoy your cake. I hope your wife gets to taste that too, somehow. I spent two days planning that cake.” Toshio put a hand on Ryoma’s left shoulder.
All of a sudden, Ryoma found himself sandwiched in a hug from a teenager.
A teenage rugby team captain, to be precise.
It was hard to breathe (considering how this kid was good at cooking, baking, AND rugby), but it wasn’t so bad receiving a little help.
If Kirumi was watching over him right now, what would she say?
Ryoma knew that she might blame him for her death, and he’d try to make up for it. He’d try to keep her memory alive.
For the first time in seventeen years, he felt a fleeting sense of freedom which overcame him and drew unshed tears out of his eyes.
And for a moment, Ryoma wished he could just stay in this hug with this awkward teenager for the rest of his life.
At least he found a little help and someone he could confide in for a few minutes.