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Dying the first time around - in the earthquake, buried underneath the rubble of the cellar he was always locked within - felt different than this.
Then again, perhaps due to Azusa’s influence, he could barely remember the first time that he died, a plea for him to simply be left there going ignored.
He’s slumped in his chair in the Silver Star Tea House, the one that Mizuki had let him have without too many complaints.
The light feels nice against his skin, an old ache – smelling of dust and blood, overwhelmingly familiar – settles against his bones, and Chitose — or is he Hiruko still? — inhales, sharply. His eyes flutter shut, and he exhales, slowly, trying to ease the stab of red-hot pain in his chest.
As Hiruko, his senses were dulled. He taught himself how to turn a blind eye to the pain, as Chitose, but to react accordingly to it - mostly out of fear that it’d turn worse, that pliers pressed against his skin would do more than just be a threat in the air.
The bell of the tea house rings, and - through thick eyelashes - Chitose’s gaze drags upwards to Hifumi’s familiar clothing. Sandals click against the floor - one that, in the back of his mind, distantly, registers as being a bit dirty. Huh.
He can’t help Mizuki out with cleaning the place up anymore. He rarely did, in the first place, but he can’t watch her as she moves about the tea house, soft words spilling from between her lips. About her day, about the new teas and coffees and foods, about the more normal customers who never had any business in his line of work.
Huh.
“I’m so sorry!” Is the first thing he’s dealt with, Hifumi’s head bowed. He’s choking up, and Chitose thinks he might be crying already.
Chitose drags himself up, feeling simultaneously lightweight and like a ton of bricks being thrown into an ocean. His head spins, for a moment, and he decides to cut Hifumi’s rambling off before the man can continue on even longer than he has.
“It’s all over,” he says, simply. And he feels a bit hollow, when the words spill out of him, and continue to overflow.
He shifts in his seat, only to tumble sideways - the panicked squawk from the other man going unheard as Chitose tumbles into a solid, warm body. Hifumi’s hand presses into his shoulder, and his brain tells him that this should be hurting, torn between staying there and keeping his head down, and tearing himself away from it before it could get any worse for him.
His eyes flutter shut again, and he buries his face into Hifumi’s chest further.
He’s disappearing, and it is a simple fact of life, for him. He was meant to be Azusa’s replacement, but now Azusa has come back, so … What is Chitose’s use, anymore? He can’t stay here , really; can’t continue his way in the tea house, between the Asahina siblings like he’s one of them .
He can’t even remember if he had a biological sister, or if that was merely Azusa’s doing.
For all that he was granted within the last two years, the bits of happiness he’s been deprived of all of his life …
It’s selfish of him, he thinks, to not want to let go of it.