Work Text:
"To Kenzaki,"
Hajime started every letter the same, with a “how are you,” “here's how Amane and the others are doing,” “hope to hear from you soon."
He hadn't been sure whether to address each one as "dear." Didn't know if he'd classify Kenzaki as "dear" to him, but he wasn't sure how else to initiate letters. He'd consulted Amane with a hypothetical scenario to offer other neutral alternatives, and luckily she could provide a few. She'd seemed suspicious of his small activities but never pried into anything personal.
And he never actually sent out any letters of course. He didn't know where Kenzaki was so he didn't have an address to send them to. But it had just grown into a hobby, ever since one day he wrote a fake letter to tell someone else that Amane had gotten accepted into a college, since she'd told everyone else at the speed of light.
He'd wanted to boast about her to someone who didn't already know, and the only person he could think of was Kenzaki. Even after all these years he wondered how he was. And if he'd ever thought about how they were as well.
So Hajime wrote, only stating the bare amount of his thoughts on paper. He was never the most vocal, and he didn't know how to formulate many words from his thoughts in general, so his letters never grew beyond a single paragraph. He'd simply record anything significant that happened during the day or week, depending on how eventful they'd been. And he'd also ask the same question at the start if Kenzaki was doing okay. Mostly out of habit.
But it was something that Hajime couldn’t stop wondering about.
Occasionally he'd think up a hypothetical scenario in which Kenzaki had written him a letter instead. Walking up to the mailbox where the postman would greet him, only for the man to continue on by without a single piece of parchment to deliver. He knew it was ridiculous to think so, but he couldn't help the small pang of disappointment when he turned back around to re-enter Jacaranda. He’d ignored the flicker of thought in his mind of wanting to read what sort of letter the other man would write.
Would Kenzaki even assume they'd all still live in the same place after ten years? Hajime wanted to think so. In the small beacon of hope that he would look for him, even only to check if they were still living there.
--
One day he met up with Tachibana and Mutsuki. They were sitting together on a bench–probably on their lunch breaks–when Hajime walked by on the way back with groceries in hand, so he decided to stop by and join them to chat.
During the breaks in conversation, along with the snacks and bottles he'd pulled out of the bags he also slid out some paper and a pen he kept on hand. He recorded down what the two had updated him about their lives and how their jobs were going. Tachibana was making steady progress with his research and Mutsuki had told stories of kids he'd helped that week. With everything fresh on his mind as words kept flowing into his ears, this might’ve been the longest letter yet.
It humored Hajime a little, thinking of these letters as some type of unintentional diary. He’d kept all of them and could read them back to himself at any time, see how far everyone's come in a year or two. He at least wanted to think of ways all of his letter writing wasn't completely a waste.
Then his cellphone rang. His mind flickering to and away from conversation, he didn't know who to expect, but it was only Shiori. Kotaro was apparently going to visit and she asked Hajime if he could go back and buy a double batch of milk.
Hurriedly he wished his two comrades farewell and spun around to head back to the store. Offhandedly on the way he wondered when the last time was that his heart didn't jump thinking it was going to be Kenzaki on the other line.
--
Returning to Jacaranda after his second grocery trip, Hajime actually ran into Kotaro right outside. He greeted him and presented the two 12-packs of milk he’d just bought, which Kotaro swept away immediately, probably off to cram them right into the fridge.
Following him inside, Hajime offhandedly flicked open the mailbox to check if anything had arrived–half-expecting maybe a bill, if anything–but he blinked and held open the flap. A single piece of parchment lay alone right in the center, folded in half. Hajime stared at it.
--
"Someone left this by a bench under some ginkgo leaves and I figured it was you. I know only one person who writes as concisely as this.
"I've been doing alright. I'm helping out people around the world my own way, too. Glad to hear everyone else is doing fine.
"I don't know what pulled me here this time of year, but maybe the sole reason was to find this. I am honestly really glad I did. I mis--" the rest of that last sentence had been scribbled out. "I think about everyone from time to time. It's a relief hearing you're still watching over things. I was worried how things would spiral without me around for so long haha
"Take care, Hajime
"K"
A spade was doodled next to the initial, but Hajime noticed also that there was a heart next to his own written name. Ah, because of Chalice, right? His suit had had the heart symbolism, just like Blade had had the spade.
He didn't want to acknowledge the leap he felt in his chest when his eyes lingered on it. He didn't want to jump to silly conclusions.
Regardless of whatever it meant, Kenzaki had written him back, in a miraculous chain of events.
And Hajime would keep writing.