Chapter Text
Iwamine Shuu is no longer part of this world.
Technically, he was still sitting on his wheelchair, staring out of the window – but take a closer look, and you will see that their is no longer any life in his purple eyes.
It was like being alive, but not actually living.
Living like that is the worst. It was a dark, miserable hell.
Kazuaki would come to the hospital every morning to find Shuu sitting perfectly still on his wheelchair, looking out of the window.
“Good morning, Iwamine-sensei. Are you feeling better today?”
“Yes,” the answer would come, “Thank you.”
The answer had been exactly the same,every day, for at least a month now.
Kazuaki would then boil some water and make a pot of tea. He knew Shuu wouldn't drink any of it and that a nurse would empty the untouched pot every night, but he kept making them anyways.
“The air's warm outside today,” he said, “It's a good day for a walk. Would you like to?”
“...no, thank you.”
Kazuaki pulled a chair and sat down next to Shuu's wheelchair. Shuu showed no signs of movement or interest – he just sat, still as a statue, looking out. It felt as if he had become completely oblivious to everything that was happening around him, as if he'd built a thick, invisible wall to separate himself from the world.
Outside, there were children, merrily playing on the hospital's playground. They could faintly hear the children's laughter and screams, could faintly hear them singing –
“...how reminiscent.”
Kazuaki turned to look at Shuu with a smile, as if expecting a reaction.
“Back in the orphanage, we used to play outside like that, too,” he said, “The others like to play Kagome kagome, and they'd make me sit in the middle.”
Shuu didn't say anything to that.
It seems like one of the boys outside, who was playing in the sandbox, had noticed Kazuaki and Shuu watching him, and waved towards them. Kazuaki smiled and waved back to him –
The kettle whistled, and Kazuaki got up to switch it off.
Things used to be different.
Shuu hadn’t always been one to make good conversation, but he wouldn’t just sit around and look out of the window like this either.
It felt as if he was watching, waiting – waiting for something that would never come.
“Don’t you get bored, Iwamine-sensei? I would be if I were you.”
“...no.”
“What about I bring you books? Back then, when Nageki was bored, he would read.”
Shuu didn’t answer. Kazuaki looked at him for a while, waiting for the answer that would never come.
“I’ll bring a few tomorrow.”
Kazuaki knew full well why things had become like this.
~•~
The next day, he brought the books, as promised.
“These are the books Nageki used to read,” he said as he put them on the table. “Once you finish reading, I’ll bring some more.”
Shuu remained silent, his gaze still directed out of the window – he didn’t even turn to look at the books. Waiting for Godot, Book of the Thieving Magpie, The Metamorphosis, and a few more.
“I wonder why Nageki likes Western authors so much,” he said with a sigh. “Have you ever heard of this Edgar Allan Poe guy, sensei? You’re pretty good at English too, aren’t you?”
Shuu gave no reaction, of course. It felt like talking to a wall sometimes, but Kazuaki had grown used to it.
“I’ll read you a story,” Kazuaki said as he opened a book. He flipped through a few pages – “This one looks interesting. The Tell-Tale Heart.”
--
Kazuaki came the next day to find the wheelchair not parked by the window. He almost called the police to report a missing person if he hadn’t noticed Shuu sitting behind the table –
Shuu was reading - he couldn’t see which book it was as Shuu had laid it flat on the table, but he was absorbed enough to not notice Kazuaki walking in. Kazuaki didn’t want to disturb him, so he didn’t greet him.
Kazuaki proceeded to boil some water, as usual, and not once did Shuu look up from his book. He reminded Kazuaki of Nageki when got so excited about a book –
“...Nanaki-sensei?”
That was probably the first time since Kazuaki started taking care of Shuu that he had said anything other than ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘thank you’.
“Damn, I’ve forgotten you can actually talk!” Kazuaki remarked with his usual cheerful smile, “What is it, Iwamine-sensei?”
“How is everything?” Shuu asked without looking up, “Shirogane said he’ll hand us to the police, didn’t he?”
“They’re waiting for your feet to heal,” Kazuaki replied. “Or at least that’s what I’ve been told. I’m pretty sure some of your Hawk Party associates are going to come and get you out of prison anyway.”
The kettle whistled, and Kazuaki quickly turned it off and poured the water into the pot.
Shuu closed the book he was reading – Waiting for Godot – and turned to look at Kazuaki.
“You could’ve killed me then,” he said, “You had the gun at my forehead. If you had pulled the trigger –”
Kazuaki only smiled as he poured some tea into a cup and served it for Shuu.
Yes, he could’ve killed Shuu then, but letting him live wasn’t too bad either.
There was no particular reason for that.
Even after taking care of him for a month, Kazuaki felt nothing but hatred towards Shuu. Because he had killed Nageki and ruined his life.
And he wasn’t the only one. There were at least three other people who could’ve died because of Shuu. He was the reason everything was in shambles –
And yet, why?
Perhaps he had feared that Shuu would die.
“Won’t you kill me?”
“Well,” Kazuaki said with a smile, “Maybe. When I feel like it, I will.”
“You’re keeping me alive just to see how I’ll hold up,” Shuu said, “We’re birds of a feather, after all.”
“Oh, please don’t group me with you,” Kazuaki replied. “I would never kill –”
“You want to see if I’m going to break,” Shuu cut, “and if I do, you’ll laugh at me until you’re out of breath, and make sure you don’t.”
Kazuaki didn’t say anything to that.
Shuu looked up at him, for the first time after they almost killed each other, a sad smile on his face.
“I’m scared, Nanaki,” he said, “And yet I’m not. I’m living under your mercy right now, but I also wish I’m dead. You understand that feeling, don’t you?”