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The night sky fell upon the cemetery. At this time of day, it was barren and empty. The trees that usually swayed in the wind remained dormant, with only the sounds of crickets being audible.
A figure made their way through the dirt pathway, their boots scraping against the coarse gravel. They were making their way to one grave, a smaller one. Every other grave had some sort of decoration to it - be it a flower, a bouquet, something from the living to mourn the deceased.
And yet, this grave remained without any decoration. No flowers to mourn, no visitors. There was not even a funeral. Had this grave not already existed, it is likely it wouldn’t have ever been made. That this person would never have been buried to begin with.
The figure stood in front of it, reading the etched letters into the gravestone. Even though they had a mask on, they could still see the letters clear as day.
CHIKARA HORADORI
MARCH 28TH, 1958 - FEBRUARY 11TH, 2020
…and that was all that was etched into it. There was no mention of his wife or his children. No mention of his accomplishments, his occupation as a scientist, nothing. Just the basic information - his name, date of birth, and date of death.
…the figure thought that’s all there should be. They took off their kitsune mask, kneeling down onto the grave with one knee. They flipped their hood down, a face perfectly split down the middle revealing itself. One half was what the public knew as “Jin Furue.” And on the other, was the half of a man that nobody truly knew. A half of a man that felt he barely existed to begin with. It was a plain, average face, with a distinct birthmark shaped like a percent symbol. It was this that was the true “Jin Furue,” a side of him that he had barely shown to anyone.
Jin took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he looked down at the grave. He put his hand to the dirt, his fingers digging deep into the mud that made up Chikara’s tomb.
“...Father, it’s… it’s me.” Jin’s voice swelled up, his conflicted voice breaking the silence of the empty graveyard. He stayed silent for a couple moments more, before he let his mind out.
“...I didn’t come to visit you because I miss you. That’s… that isn’t why I’m here, that’d never be the reason I’m here. Not after what you did, not after everything that happened because of you. If you think I’d ever forgive you or miss you, then…”
“I wish I knew why I was here right now. Why I’ve taken some Saturday night to mourn you. I felt compelled to, in a sense. As if it was the right thing to do, to give you some sort of official goodbye. Because I wanted closure, I guess. Closure I doubt I’d ever get otherwise.”
“...Uru’s doing better, you know. It’s been almost six years, and in that time, he’s found something you never gave him. He found a family who cares about him, a sibling that he never even knew about until he was freed from that torture pit you kept him in. And he’s abandoned that harmful ideology that you helped instill in him. That M-Mom helped…”
Jin stuttered again, his grasp on the dirt beneath him tightening. He could barely grasp the idea of what his parents had done. Even six years later, six years after Chikara had died and his mother had disappeared, he barely even scratched the surface of it.
“...I can’t. I just, I can’t understand why you did what you did. Why some shitty birthmark was so important to you that you felt the need to cut off half of his face… why you kept him locked in there, stealing organs from him…”
“...you saved my life with those transplants, but it was at the cost of almost twenty years of his life. A-And you never even cared about me. I was just something for you to show off at those forsaken events with all the supporters, all the members, all the backers of that… cult of yours. I almost believed it, too.”
“...yet, I feel this underlying sense that… that maybe you did care, at some point. That maybe you did love me, and cared about me. I know Mom did, up until she… up until she stopped visiting me. I remember the last time she held me like it was yesterday. The pain in her eyes, yet the comforting embrace that she gave me. She truly loved and cared about me. And yet, after that day, things were never… the same. She was emotionless for every future hospital visit, only talking about her own cult. She never offered me that same love I had felt before again.”
“...I longed for it, though. For either of you to care about me. To have anyone in my life that could give me that love, give me that strength, to find what I always saw others have. A family, in simpler terms. I knew you hated Mom. She was just some mistress to you. She hated you too, I know that. But if I could have lived a normal life, even under a divorced parenthood, I would have traded this life for that in a heartbeat.”
“...especially if it never meant he’d never get targeted by you. If it meant he never had to get his organs ripped from his body, half his face torn off… the pain never really goes away for me, I couldn’t imagine what he experiences on a daily basis. The public doesn’t know he’s the one that killed you, by the way. They never should, and never will. They know what you did to him. But they don’t know he was specifically your killer. It’s surprising what a sympathetic detective can do, y’know?”
“...some days, I wish I was the one to do it. But I wouldn’t have wanted to rob him of that moment. I knew how angry he was. I knew how much he resented me, but it was really resentment towards you. I’m just glad he understood that in the end, otherwise I’d probably be dead. I wouldn’t have minded, though. If it gave him relief, if it gave him closure for it all, I would have let him kill me a thousand times over.”
“...I’ve spoken for long enough now. I don’t want you to think I care, but… I did, at one point. I just wish you loved me back.”
Jin got up, pulling out a canister from his bag. He poured it all over the mud, splashing a little on the grave itself. Reaching into his pocket, Jin pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes - he lit one, putting it into his mouth and letting the fumes enter his borrowed lungs. After a brief moment and after putting the canister back into his bag, he let out some smoke, looking down on the grave.
“...goodbye, Father.” He took the cigarette out, throwing it onto the grave. He watched on as the fire started to erupt, his face remaining emotionless. The tears that once were had all dried up now. Jin flipped his hood back up, taking a few steps back. The fire had now reached the headstone itself, charring the engraved name.
Had it been any other grave, Jin would have used a discrete method to light the flame. But he knew this was a grave that nobody would mourn. That nobody would visit. That the horrible actions of his father had ruined the lives of so, so many people.
And as the fire roared, Jin slipped his mask back on. He made his way through the graves again, keeping his gaze to the ground in front of him. The flames were flown by the wind, embers flying past the masked man.
He made it back to his car, starting the engine. Jin sighed as he abandoned the cemetery, driving off into the dead of the night. Leaving the unmourned grave in a state that nobody would ever find it in.