Chapter Text
Tatsumi often wondered how he got to the point he found himself at. Between his home and upbringing, Reimei, the hospital, and his time with ALKALOID, he was unsure how a being so contradicting and hypocritical could come to be. He often wondered where it all began. Was it when ALKALOID took off and there was no time for worries or going back? Or was it perhaps when he met his unitmates that made him want them to stay together? Or maybe even before that, when he met Tenshouin Eichi in the hospital, a revolutionary like himself, who sealed his fate as an underachiever of StarmakerProduction? But surely wouldn't the accident that caused Tatsumi to find himself in the hospital be the reason that occurred? But even that was a result of his own actions, his attempts to reform the world he lived in. That kind of Tatsumi was borne of his upbringing as a friend to all those who believe in kindness and foe to sin. So perhaps it wasn't even his fault but the fault of those who raised him in such a way?
No, no. Tatsumi could never blame his father, nor his mother. Tatsumi was sure it was he himself who was to blame when he thought back on it all.
———
"Father, must we really visit the hospital again? We've been here three times this week already," Tatsumi asked. "And it's always the same: people only ever complain to us!"
Young Kazehaya Tatsumi was the son of one of the few remaining kakure priests in Japan. It was inevitable that he would surely become a priest like his father, for the sake of carrying on the religion that meant so much to him. But of course, a young boy of only eight couldn't possibly understand the severity of such a situation. Of course he would dream of a life outside of his family. Of course he wouldn't understand why he and his father would visit the local hospital and animal shelter and any other kind of charity in the spare time. He didn't know about the prayers and donations his father gave that meant so much to these people.
"Tatsumi, why don't you go and talk to the children then?" his father suggested. "Perhaps you could become friends with them."
"How would I do that?" he asked with childish innocence, the grip he had on his father's hand tightening as he walked beside the man that guided him through hallways that all looked the same.
"Talk to them, of course. Ask if you can play with them," his father answered him. "Put your heart on your sleeve and be kind to them," he continued on, as if he were giving the young boy a personal sermon on how to befriend other children. "And if they allow you to, offer them a prayer. And when I pick you up, say that you'll return soon to play again," he added.
"What if I don't want to play again?" the boy asked.
"That would be an awful shame," his father answered. "It'd be best for you to want to play again."
Before Tatsumi even knew it, his father's hand had slipped away from his own, and the priest had disappeared off to some other part of the hospital that Tatsumi knew he wouldn't possibly be able to find given how everything looked the same in this building. He peered through the doorway he'd been left at, noting that this was probably the room for children who stayed at the hospital to play with each other in, given the bright colours on the walls, the myriads of toys that Tatsumi didn't even think existed, and the children in the room. It was all a little much for him to take in, honestly- it was much different to the room where adults say around and chatted whilst Tatsumi had no choice but to watch on. Tatsumi had choice of what to do here. At least he thought he did.
"Hello!"
Tatsumi whipped his head around at the greeting, purple eyes wide in shock of being talked to so joyously in such a treacherous place. Even more than that though, he was surprised to be spoken to by a child who was so obviously sick, given his skeletal-like appearance that was common amongst the adults Tatsumi had seen in this place. "My name's Chiaki," the boy introduced himself. "You're new here, wanna play with me and my friends?" he offered ever so sweetly. "We're playing Power Rangers!" he announced rather proudly.
Tatsumi hummed, trying so desperately to think of how to answer. He was far too used to the monotone reels that he was usually given and was supposed to answer in just as monotone of a way to avoid upsetting whoever was talking to him. "I'd... Like to play also," he finally answered.
The boy- Chiaki, supposedly- grabbed Tatsumi's hand instantly, tugging him along through the room. Even though his grip was weak, and his tugging was even weaker, Tatsumi didn't dare to go against his hold, out of fear that he might upset or hurt the sick boy. Chiaki had dragged Tatsumi right into the centre of the playroom, before seating himself beside another sick boy, at the same table as two boys who didn't exactly look sick. "These are my friends," Chiaki announced. "This is Eichi, and that's Keito and Kaoru!" He introduced. "Come sit down next to me, introduce yourself!" he insisted.
Tatsumi obliged to what he had been told to do, situating himself between Chiaki and Kaoru. "My name is Kazehaya Tatsumi," he introduced himself ever so shyly. "My father is a priest, he's here to give prayers to the adults here. He wanted me to play with some children," he explained.
The boy across from Tatsumi- supposedly called Keito- tilted his head in curiosity. "Your father is also a priest?" he asked. "That's why I'm here as well," he explained, a small, almost timid smile stretching across his lips. "What temple is your family from?" he questioned in a most childishly curious way.
Tatsumi only shook his head, looking down at his hands as he began to pick at the underneath of his nail in a most anxious way. "We aren't Buddhists," he explained. "We're kakure, a type of Catholic. Except we don't have a written bible or prayer book, we just memorise everything and say it orally." He shifted where he sat. "There aren't many of us left, but my family has its own church."
The other sick boy- who looked more sick, in Tatsumi's opinion, even skinnier than Chiaki, with the paleness that suggested a life of hiding from the world in fear of being sick- seemed to perk up at Tatsumi's explanation of his religion. "I'm also a Catholic, although not kakure, just a generic Catholic," he chimed in. "Is it difficult to remember everything?"
Tatsumi simply shrugged his shoulder, sitting up a little straighter in order to stretch his back. "I don't know, I haven't really been taught everything, only a couple of prayers and Bible stories, like Genesis," he answered. "I'll probably learn it all when I get older," he added. "Right now I usually just help my dad with charity work. And we have some animals and vegetable plants at home that I help take care of."
The other blond boy, Kaoru finally spoke up at this. "Doesn't it get your nice clothes dirty?" he asked. "Surely your dad would get mad at you for getting dirty," he pointed out, hand reaching over the table he was slumped over to flip over some kind of figure- Tatsumi was sure that they were called action figures- that was foreign to the priest's son. He couldn't help but focus on the way that Kaoru's bored grey eyes seemed so uninterested by that toy that his hand was focused on.
Tatsumi simply shook his head. "I try not to get too dirty, but sometimes it just can't be helped," he explained. "So when that happens, I wash my clothes in the sink- my mother usually helps me though- and then I wash myself whilst my clothes dry," he added. "And it usually doesn't matter too much, since the only white clothes I have are only worn for church and festivals. Like, for example, this week was Holy week, and now it's Easter, so I get to wear white since Easter is in the Bible as the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ."
Kaoru nodded, still rather uninterested and bored by the whole ordeal. Or at least, he was until the sound of a throat clearing was heard from the door, and the boy shot up in his seat, looking towards the door with such urgency that caused the other's at the table to look in that direction as well. Kaoru let out a sigh. "That's my dad. I have to go. Bye." He stood up from where he sat, immediately walking over to the door, head hung low, holding onto his own arm as he disappeared out of the door with whoever had come to collect him.
"He doesn't stay here?"
Tatsumi didn't even register that he had asked the question until it was too late.
Chiaki shook his head with fervor. "It's his mom that's sick, but she usually sends him to come play with us," he explained. "His mom is really nice though, sometimes she gets us snacks from the cafeteria," he added with a rather childish excitement. "She became friends with my mom since my mom offered to let Kaoru have dinner at hers some times, so I get to hang out with her sometimes when Kaoru and his family aren't here."
Tatsumi nodded. "That's a very kind thing for her to do," he commented, rather neutrally. It was nice to know that it wasn't just his own family who was doing kind things for the sake of being a kind person, but then again, Tatsumi didn't know exactly why Kaoru's mother would do such a thing. He hoped it was because she was being nice.
Chiaki rose up in his seat, as if he had remembered something. "Tatsumi, do you know how to play Power Rangers?" he asked in a joyful way. Tatsumi could only shake his head. He didn't exactly grow up with toys to play with, and he had never actually even heard of Power Rangers, so of course he had no idea how to play such a game. "So basically, the Power Rangers fight all the bad guys who wanna destroy the world, but sometimes they can't do it alone, so they join together. Each Power Rangers story has a different way of joining them all together, this one uses a samurai, it's so cool!" he explained, picking up the action figure that was almost identical to the others, if it weren't for the fact that this one was red, and the others were various different colours. "I like the red one because he always saves the day, so he's the best," Chiaki carried on his explanation. "And Eichi likes the blue one because it's his favourite colour, and Keito likes green because it's the same colour as his hair." He paused for a minute, looking at the empty chair. "Kaoru doesn't really care which one he plays with, so why don't you choose between pink and yellow?"
Tatsumi blinked at the decision laid out in front of him. Pink or yellow: the age old question. He hummed, pondering on his decision for a moment. "I think I would like to take pink, if that's okay," he decided.
Chiaki beamed a smile that was far too bright for someone who was supposed to be in horrific pain and terribly sick. He also giggled in a way too excited for someone who was supposed to be drained of all of his energy simply by being alive. "The pink one's super cool," he insisted, handing the chosen toy over to Tatsumi. "She's super smart always helps the red one save the day- it wouldn't work without her!" he reassured Tatsumi, making sure that he was happy with his choice. In all honesty, Tatsumi was just happy to feel included in this little group that Chiaki seemed to have been able to form.
———
When he thought about it, Tatsumi wasn't awfully sure that his upbringing was what caused his downfall. Sure, there were questionable things he grew up with: like the blood on the cold stone walls he grew up in and shared with a dozen orphans that everyone seemed to throw skeptical glances at when mentioned, but Tatsumi never mind it- he was just offering what he had to others who were less fortunate than him. He was also often questioned about his fear of sin, how he believed that even the smallest things would make him live in eternal hell and how he had come to believe such things, and who had installed this fear in his mind? If he had to think logically about it, blame could be placed onto his father- the kind old soul who had taught Tatsumi everything he knew- given how he was the only priest Tatsumi ever attended a sermon or Sunday school lesson of. But that wasn't his father's fault per se, it was just that there were no other teachers in his community, so responsibility always fell to his father. And it wasn't as if the kind old priest had ever done anything wrong: he was just ensuring that his religion lived on. It was important- for both Tatsumi and his father- that their religion lived on, for if it didn't, then the strife and struggles of their ancestors that allowed Tatsumi to call himself a kakure would be for nothing. Tatsumi believed that they didn't deserve that. And it was like Tatsumi didn't believe his religion, he often reasoned with the voice in his brain that told him something was wrong with what he'd been taught, he believed the scriptures. He believed Jesus Christ walked as God in the flesh and sacrificed himself to removed the original sin and amend the relationship between God and man. He would never just give up his beliefs because someone else didn't agree with them. That would've happened on that day he met Keito Hasumi, the son of the Buddhist priest, for Tatsumi could've just keened and said he was also a Buddhist, but he didn't, for he was not a Buddhist also. He was kakure.
Tatsumi sighed, rolling over in his bed to stare at the ceiling of his dorm room. It was rather warm in the room, warmer than his room at home had ever been. Cleaner than his room had ever been, also. He liked keeping his room clean. It was occasionally a difficult task, but he always had help from his roommate. He was forever grateful for the help. If only his roommate could solve the debate in his mind: where did Kazehaya Tatsumi's downfall begin? As a child? At Reimei? In the hospital? Or was it with ALKALOID? If only someone could tell him so that his lamenting and confusion would end as swiftly as the question could be asked.