Work Text:
Despite his numerous mistakes, the people around Kazutora have found a way to forgive him.
Baji forgave him for that stab, Chifuyu forgave him for almost taking away what mattered the most to him. Mikey and Emma had forgiven him for Shinichiro, the former adding on the whole Valhalla fiasco to the list.
There is someone he wronged that hasn’t forgiven him, though. And won’t ever be able to.
Standing in front of Shinichiro’s grave, he wonders why it’s suddenly hard to breathe.
He takes a seat in the cold ground, nervous fingers going from fiddling with his jacket’s zipper to scratching at his wrists, suddenly feeling stupid over this. He had never come to see where Mikey’s older brother had been buried, either too ashamed or too afraid to actually come and see what he had done in panic at seeing they were discovered.
He would have been content of never having to face this, but in their latest gathering Mikey had mentioned coming to see his older brother and some dumb part of Kazutora had asked about it. For a second, his friend had looked almost blank before he smiled and told him that he could go visit, that it might be helpful to ‘put things in perspective’.
Baji had also insisted he came and gave him instructions on where to go, his face set in that expression he sometimes gets where he looks more mature than he is, and there is no real discussion when his best friend gets like that.
And so, the grave reading ‘Sano Shinichiro, loving brother’ stares back at him, taunting him with the words carved in it, reminding of his mistake and the cost it brought the people dear to him, that had to be paid with two years of his freedom, even if the scale could never be equal again.
What is he even supposed to do? Say to empty air ‘I’m sorry for killing you and trying to do the same to your little brother’? He doesn’t think that would be appropriate nor would it be of any help. The urge to get up, run somewhere far away from here and act like this never happened is almost overwhelming, but he digs his nails on the palm of his hand. He’s here for something, no matter how much he wants to escape it.
He takes a breath, hoping to lessen the shivers coursing through his body.
In situations like this he lets his mouth dictate the flow of what comes next, for better or worse.
“It’s hard coming here, you know.”
It doesn’t feel right but it also doesn’t feel wrong, so he keeps going. “For the longest time I thought that it was Mikey’s fault what happened that night. He wanted the bike and I… thought that I could skip over everything and give it to him.”
“But you were there, and when I saw you with Baji, my mind went blank with just the weight of that wirecutter on my hand that made me remember that I had to do… something .“ A grimace finds its way to his face, remembering that night.
He continues, still not sure if this is what he should be saying. “I had a lot of time to mull it over in juvie and instead of realizing that maybe it was me who had done wrong, I doubled down on thinking you and Mikey were enemies that had to be eliminated. And with you already gone, there was only one thing standing in the way of things going back to the way they were before.”
There isn’t anything he wants more than to lower his gaze, but he keeps it as steady as he can while the next words spill from his mouth. “So when I got out, and tried to bring down Mikey and Toman, it felt like I was doing something right. It wasn’t until I saw Baji stab himself that it occurred to me that what I was doing was just bringing more hurt to people important to me, not making things right.”
“I got behind bars again, but this time there were more people coming to visit me. And between a lot of conversations that made me feel like puking my guts out, start seeing a therapist and nothing but time, I ended up thinking a lot about that night and…” He hesitates, because such an obvious thing shouldn't need that amount of time and suffering to be realized. Still, he says it.
“And then I realized that I was the one to blame.”
A single tear rolls down his cheek but he makes no attempt to wipe it away, letting it run its course before continuing.
“It wasn’t Mikey’s fault, it wasn’t yours. It was mine.”
He gulps, feeling like those words that have been stuck in his chest and his mind for years, for sleepless nights and hard days, are just on the tip of his tongue, ready to be set free. To set himself free from that small bit of guilt, even if some of it won’t ever leave him alone.
“I’m sorry.”
For Shinichiro. For Mikey. For Emma. For Baji. For everyone who grieved Shinichiro.
For himself.
Once the words are said, he feels like the world has paused to hear him utter that apology and now that it’s out it resumes its flow. A breeze goes through the graveyard, ruffling his hair and the leaves on the trees, and maybe he is delusional enough to think that it's as close as he will get to an acceptance to his apology.
The stillness returns. He stays for a while longer but doesn’t say more, golden eyes fixed in the cold stone, wondering and thinking.
Maybe this was pointless. After all, the dead have no use for apologies, and the living have long said his sins are forgiven. Or maybe it’s because of that fact his apology might mean that much more.
Eventually he gets up, and doesn’t offer a prayer because he doesn’t think he has the right to do that yet, bowing low and wiping his face without comment instead. Maybe someday he will bring flowers or a can of beer with cigarettes and not barely coherent ramblings. That day is not today.
He leaves, and doesn’t fool himself into thinking just that will be enough to feel like his hands aren’t stained with blood. Like the limp body of Shinichiro and Baji’s crying face don’t haunt his dreams. Like Mikey wouldn’t have been justified if he had decided to pummel Kazutora to death. There are things that can’t be erased, even after being forgiven.
But it’s something. Maybe that’s all he needs.