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Rei was suddenly standing before his father, hair tousled and everywhere, warm blood pouring from somewhere on his head down his face, right arm extended outwards, and holding a gun he never remembered pulling out. He was speaking, he knew, because he recognized the sensation of his lips hitting each other and producing syllables, and his hand was trembling, almost violently, yet he knew he stood with conviction and sureness, with bravado and gusto, and most of all with purpose. But all he wanted was to pass out.
The past 20 minutes came back to him in sputters, in moments, in cutscenes. He remembered running up the staircase with Kazuki, he remembered his finger on the trigger, he remembered his windpipe being crushed, and he remembered Miri. Was Miri there? Where was Kazuki? Kazuki was bleeding the last time he saw him. Or was that Miri? Or was that someone else entirely?
Had it been him the entire time?
His mind cleared for a moment and past all the gunshots and yelling, he saw his father with his gaze pinned on Rei, an invulnerable judge ready to rain his judgment down and unmake Rei for the millionth time.
And then Rei was 10 years old all over again, holding a gun in his hand for the first time, ribs sore from heaving, legs sore from running, knuckles red and bruised from fighting back. Holding the grip tightly with both of his hands, confusing the trigger guard for the trigger and pulling at nothing, trying to steady the ever present tremble in his wrists, so he could aim for the head of the puppet - the head of the “human” - and make his father satisfied, and make his father happy . So the judgment was less severe, so his punishment was more palatable.
But he always failed.
“I see no matter how much effort I put into it, you will always default to forming bonds that serve no purpose other than to disrupt you,” his father said, as he sat better on his chair. “Tell me, Rei, are you doing this on purpose?”
Rei had fallen for the bait multiple times. ‘Look me in the eyes, boy,’ he had said, and Rei looked and felt the pain, and answered earnestly, and he always apologized. But the fear that Miri and Kazuki were hurt reminded him of why his legs carried him all the way to this door.
“I’m leaving the organization.”
His father remained unreadable, only humming a short “hm” in return. A form of acknowledgment. Neither dissent, nor affirmation, but unbiased, neutral acknowledgment. Or at least that’s how he had come to understand it for most of his life. His father took a deep breath and he began again.
“No.”
“I’m leaving the organization,” Rei repeated. He focused his gaze on his father’s forehead - no painful eye contact, but no shying away from the threat.
“You will not be leaving the organization,” his father stated evenly. “You were created with the purpose of inheriting it, and thus you will do as such. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Rei wanted to scream, to cry, to attack, to run away. Why was he doing this? Was this enjoyable for him? Did he enjoy torturing Rei like this? Every other form of pain, Rei knew how to handle. He had learned to dull and ignore all types of pain with practice and years of experience. But this pain, which Rei couldn't place the type of, this pain he was a slave to.
He shook his head. No matter how much he tried to forget it, he was a Suwa; the Suwa line was forged in pain and spilled blood. He grew up learning to bear the burden of pulling the trigger - of taking a life. He was taught that human life was a business deal, a negotiation, and to always hold his head high, and bestill his heart. And now it was time that he bore the burden, the pain, the responsibility of protecting a life, of negotiating its longevity. Not just his own.
"I will not be staying here," Rei said. It took effort to make his voice steady and loud enough to be heard, but it was necessary effort. "I asked a very simple thing of you and of the organization: Keep them out of this. I should've phrased it better. It wasn't a plea, it was a term. If you can't respect that term, then I'm out."
"... You learn to point a gun at your boss and suddenly you think you've grown a spine," his father said. "You are shaking head to toe. Do you really think I would take you seriously like this? And respect this banal request most of all?" He slapped his hands, making Rei flinch, as the sound echoed across the room. "Get it together, Rei. A member of the Suwa family will not act like this when the legacy of the business is on the line." He wasn't yelling, but his voice was louder now.
Rei swallowed. He was trying to think. But he was still in the process of thinking when he said "I respect the wishes of the Suwa family, but I won't be putting my family on the line for the sake of the organization." He forgave himself for the slight tremble in his voice. And for the first time in his 25 years of living, Rei clocked a change in his father's expression.
Surprise.
Shock, maybe. Repulsion. Delight. Horror. Any of these emotions could be what his father was feeling. But he knew that whatever his father's feelings were, at least he had gotten through to him. He had gotten him to understand his intentions.
And then Shigeki Suwa began laughing.
It was an ugly sound, much like plates breaking or yelling in a distant room. Rei had come to find out as he grew up that his father's laughter was a sign to proceed with caution. An alarm. A warning. Rei felt the blood drain from his head at the sound, and the world went spotty. But he wouldn't let his resolve fail him now. He pulled back the hammer on his gun. He didn't want to shoot. But the click of the hammer made his father look like just another target. It made him feel familiar, human, but most of all, mortal. Like someone Rei could take on and have a chance at victory.
"You've truly lost your way. This 'family' is becoming a serious liability to your work ethic. I like to think I've raised you well enough for you to be able to recognize that. The only ties to family you have is to the Suwa line, and it would do you good to abandon this delusion and return to your senses," his father replied, dead and clinical, as if he hadn't been laughing moments prior.
"No. You'll leave my family-"
"Is this a joke? The only family you have is the Suwa family. End of story."
"Family isn't just blood!" Rei yelled. "Families aren't tied together by blood only! If they are, then is the blood that the entirety of the Suwa line has spilled just as meaningless as I've been taught?!" Rei knew he was scared. But he wouldn't let his father forsake the most important thing in his life.
"Remember what you were trained for, Rei. You will not survive if you stray outside of your real family. No one is meant to survive like this," his father replied.
"That's exactly how people are supposed to survive! That's how families are formed !" His grasp on the grip of the gun tightened. "You find people you trust and you build a happy and safe life with them! Not- Not whatever you've been doing!" The bags under his eyes felt heavy, but he took the exchange of shaking for tears. Tears he could hide. At least he wasn't shaking anymore. "I said it once, I'll say it again." He aimed for the forehead, straight and true. "I'm leaving the organization. You, the Suwa family, and the organization as a whole, are not to bother me or interfere with my life any more than you already have from this point on. Am I understood?" He asked.
His father didn't flinch for a second. He looked at him with the same, chilling look Rei grew up around, going right back to being unreadable.
"You realize I'll have to send people after you. I can't have such a liability running around unsupervised." He was trying to look Rei in the eyes. His father knew the physical pain that came with. He wanted Rei to fear him, even until the last possible moment. But Rei wasn't being brave just for himself anymore.
"Don't forget I'm a human weapon, father ," Rei noted, and his father's eyebrow twitched at the word. He loved being 'boss'. Being demoted like that probably felt unsuitable. "I'll just kill anyone you send my way." His father stared at him still. He took a deep breath and sat back on his chair.
"Very well. Then you are as good as useless to me," he said as he sorted out his paperwork. As if his entire organization's staff hadn't been undone a few moments prior. As if he wasn't being held at gunpoint.
He truly was a deeply unwell man.
Rei turned around, without bowing at last, gun still loaded and firmly in his grasp.
"Humor me, Rei," his father called. Rei didn't flinch this time. "What role does that girl play in your family?" He asked.
A benign part of Rei's brain wanted to answer earnestly. He knew such a display of emotion would serve as the perfect leverage, the perfect blackmail against his family. But, maybe stupidly, he wanted the man who refused the title of father to feel envy. He wanted to prove to him, and acknowledge to himself, how much better he was doing than the man he was conditioned by. So he let the dam leak a little.
"... She is my daughter, whom I treasure dearly. It's my role to raise her to be a good person," he replied. He didn't know how to be a good person himself. He was still learning. He sure as hell wasn't an amazing parent, and he definitely hadn't been a good person up until that point. But he'd learn, and he'd teach Miri. Not by himself either.
"And the man?"
Kazuki.
Oh, Kazuki.
Kazuki, who would run to the ends of the earth for him. Kazuki, who would set himself for fire if it meant his safety. Kazuki, who, inexperienced as he was, ran into overpowering criminal organization headquarters for him. Kazuki, who accepted him at his lowest. Kazuki, who deserved more. Kazuki, who deserved better.
"... He is my partner, and my daughter's father," Rei said. But he wasn't just that. He was more. Any report, any analysis, wouldn't be enough to encompass the life that Kazuki was. But he couldn't stand to be in the room anymore. And his father didn't deserve to know.
His father hummed his emotionless "hm" once again. Acknowledgement. Note-taking. "Very well. Be on your way now. And if you meddle in my business again, I'll take care of your 'daughter' and 'partner'," he said.
Rei turned his head slightly towards his father's desk and spared him a half-glance. "Same to you."
He looked at him for a few tense moments, letting the weight of the words sink in. And then he walked towards the door, and he left.
Kazuki immediately perked up at seeing Rei, and Rei felt total safety, total comfort, envelop him all at once, like a warm stream of water. And before Kazuki even uttered a word, Rei collapsed on his knees.
"You okay, man?! Is everything okay?!" Kazuki asked frantically as he used his hands to support Rei on his chest and back.
Rei was heaving again, but not from running this time. His eyes felt wet, and his face felt numb, and his legs were not working anymore no matter how much he tried. His eyes darted around the room, from the left, to Kazuki, to the right, to Kazuki, to behind them, to Kazuki again. He had so many words to say that his mouth refused to speak.
"It's okay, man, it's okay," Kazuki said in a voice so soothing that Rei didn't feel he deserved.
I did it, Kazuki .
"You did amazing."
I faced him, Kazuki .
"You faced something so hard so bravely."
I protected us, Kazuki .
"You did so well."
Hands could feel warm. Kazuki's hands were warm. He was warm, and nice.
"Can you stand?" He asked. Rei hesitated before nodding. They both needed to get to Miri.
"Let's go. Miri won't forgive us if we're late."
And they left. And Rei went home.