Chapter Text
“Good morning, Iwamine-sensei.”
Kazuaki closed the door behind him. Shuu was sitting by the window, silent as a statue. Kazuaki started to fill the kettle to boil water –
“Are you feeling better today?”
Strangely, there was no answer.
Kazuaki walked over to him and tapped his shoulder, but Shuu gave no reaction. He seemed to be reading something –
“Iwamine-sensei?”
Shuu turned to Kazuaki, startled, and quickly closed the book. Kazuaki smiled as cheerfully as usual –
“What are you reading?”
“…something,” came the curt reply. “It’s none of your business.”
“Oh, no, I’m just curious,” Kazuaki said with a smile. “If you’re so engrossed in something that you don’t even notice me coming in an hour late, then it must be a really interesting book.”
It was a blue notebook, with a hard leather cover and a ribbon bookmark in the middle – there was no title on the cover.
“I didn’t lend you that book, did I?”
“Kawara-kun gave it to me yesterday,” Shuu replied. “It’s my notebook. He found it and returned it to me, as simple as that.”
“May I see it, or is it too heretical for my eyes?”
Shuu gave no answer. He slowly moved towards the table, and put the notebook along with the other books.
The kettle whistled, and Kazuaki went to turn it off.
“Why are you late?”
“I met Ryouta-kun and his mum on my way,” Kazuaki replied. “First there was only Ryouta-kun, and you know, we talked about you, and then his mum came and we talked some more.”
Kazuaki knew Shuu was only asking for formality. He wouldn’t have noticed that Kazuaki was late – he rarely looked at the clock mounted on the wall – the only way he would know time was passing was by the sun’s position. Time was no longer of any importance to him –
That’s a sign, isn’t it – that someone no longer cares about his life.
He wouldn’t have gone to lunch or dinner if a nurse or Kazuaki didn’t tell him to, and he doesn’t go to sleep if the nurse doesn’t turn off the lights.
It’s pathetic to see how Iwamine Shuu had been reduced into nothing but a living puppet.
“Have you ever thought about your life, Iwamine-sensei? When Kawara-sensei died, what was your immediate reaction?”
Shuu looked down at his hands, silent.
His gaze was still empty and cold, but it felt different. As if somewhere inside, a door had been knocked –
“Did you cry?”
“My first thought was that I wanted to get on his bed and just die with him, right then and there,” Shuu replied. “I don’t know. He just seemed so peaceful it seemed unreal. I felt like I can lie down next to him and sleep there, and we’d wake up the next morning and everything would be fine.
“I held his hand as he died, and the warmth didn’t recede for a long, long time.
“And as it slowly became cold, I started thinking about how different things would be without him, and it felt…” Shuu paused, “I can’t describe it. It felt like the world shifted a little, and now suddenly it’s a dark, cold place.”
Shuu looked out of the window. The sun was shining brightly, and he could hear the children playing outside –
“Are you asleep, Isa-kun?”
Isa didn’t answer. He kept his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. He could feel Ryuuji’s hand running through his hair –
They were sitting on the floor, their backs against the wall. Isa was leaning on Ryuuji’s shoulder.
“You’re not asleep, are you?”
Isa didn’t react, trying to keep up with the act. Maybe if he did that for long enough Ryuuji would believe he was sleeping –
Ryuuji felt warm and comfortable – there is still work to do, but Isa didn’t feel like it. It would be nice to just snuggle with Ryuuji and go to sleep.
“Well… I guess you can sleep if you want to. It’s been a long day, after all.”
He could feel Ryuuji’s hand caressing his cheeks, his soft kiss on his forehead –
“I love you, Isa-kun.”
Iwamine Shuu is no longer part of this world, simply because he no longer has a place in it.
“Nanaki.”
Kazuaki was pouring some tea for himself. “Yes, what is it?”
“Kill me.”
“I never asked for you to exact revenge.”
That’s what Nageki said. Nageki is too kind to everyone, as usual.
Even know, I don’t understand, Nageki – why don’t you hate this person, who destroyed everything? He ruined your life and mine, and you can still look at me and boldly say you don’t want me to kill him.
Why you would forgive him is beyond me.
“I refuse.”
“Why?” Shuu shot back, “You’ve been hunting for me since the day Fujishiro died. Now would be the perfect chance to kill me.”
“I told you I’ll kill you when I feel like it, and right now I don’t, so be patient.”
“Keeping me alive won’t do you any good either,” Shuu said. “It’s just like what you said – the Hawks are going to come bail me out, and I would never face the consequence of – “
“Why are we having this conversation, Iwamine-sensei?” Kazuaki cut, “Is it because of Kawara-sensei? Would you go so far just so you can see him again?”
Kazuaki could feel the anger rising in his chest.
The very man who took Nageki away from him is now begging for his sympathy.
As if Kazuaki didn’t go through the same exact pain for five years, as if he didn’t hate himself for what happened and didn’t want to die.
Such bullshit.
“Death is an easy way out, Iwamine-sensei,” he growled, “and I won’t give it to you.”
“If you don’t kill me, I’ll kill myself,” Shuu threatened, “And you’ll lose your chance, forever.”
“I don’t care.”
That’s what he had said, but Kazuaki knew, deep down, that he cared.
If Shuu dies, then he would, too. If Shuu can’t face his guilt, he wouldn’t be able to, either.
Kazuaki took the notebook from the table.
He thought Shuu would try to stop him, but he only watched quietly as Kazuaki took the ribbon bookmark and opened the book.
“Is this you when you were younger?”
Kazuaki took out the photo that was slipped between the pages. It was a photo of a blue-haired man and a little boy –
“You look cute with short hair,” Kazuaki remarked. “Ryouta sure looks a lot like his dad, huh? Even their hairstyle is similar.”
Shuu remained silent.
“Looking at old photos always gives me this strange feeling,” Kazuaki went on. “It feels like looking at the past that doesn’t exist anymore. And you look back and think about how different things could’ve been – “
Perhaps that’s why Kazuaki had scribbled out the face in that picture.
Because he didn’t want to think about how things could’ve turned out differently. It was his fault that things were the way they were, after all. If only he had noticed Nageki’s problems earlier –
“…do you know what kept me going for those six years, Iwamine-sensei?”
Kazuaki held the photo on its two corners –
– and ripped it apart.
“It was hatred.”
“Don’t– “
Shuu reached out his hand, trying to stop Kazuaki, but it was too late.
“Kazuaki ripped the photo into two pieces, and then, as if unsatisfied, continued ripping it into smaller pieces.
“So I want you to live on,” he threw the pieces, scattering them in the air – “and think about how much your hate me. First, for shooting your legs, and now, for destroying the last memento you have of Kawara-sensei.”
Shuu’s facial expression as he watched Kazuaki rip apart the photo, was, to him, priceless.
Kazuaki couldn’t quite describe it – it was like despair, agony, and grief combined.
I wonder if I used to have that look on my face, too?
This is much better than killing him off. Now he will suffer, too – he will feel the pain I endured during those years.
Revenge is a dish best served cold, indeed.
Shuu’s shoulder sank slightly as he stared at the paper pieces on the ground in front of him.
His gaze was empty and pained, his purple eyes clouded. As if he wanted to cry, but couldn’t.
Shuu was oddly silent when Kazuaki left that day. Not that he usually said bye or anything, but it felt different that day.