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Dear Kazutora, Ryoko writes.
Keisuke’d told her that he’d just gotten out of juvie three days ago. That he tried visiting him, but that Kazutora hadn’t been home, and that his father hadn’t told him where he was.
So, Ryoko writes a letter. Discreetly. Without telling her son about it.
I heard you’ve just gotten out of juvie. If you’d ever like to visit us, please do! Keisuke’s been excitedly waiting for you all this time. Know you’re always welcome at ours, no matter what.
Take care, and contact Keisuke soon. He’s been waiting for you long enough.
Best wishes,
Baji Ryoko
And, at the time of sending her letter, she has no clue that it’s the last chance for Keisuke and Kazutora to ever hug again.
━━━━━━━
Keisuke’s late on Halloween 2005. Ryoko knows he’s out with his friends, and she concludes that they’re out partying unexpectedly because he’d promised to come home right after school.
So, when the doorbell rings, she opens the door with a roll of her eyes, and—
It’s not Keisuke.
Nor any of his friends.
It’s the police. Who tell her to sit down for a while.
But she already knows what they’re about to explain.
It’s been well over half her life since she’d left the gang she’d been part of herself as a teen. When she’d been sixteen—almost three decades ago—one of her closest friends, one of the girls under her command, had been killed. The day after her funeral, she’d given up everything they’d worked for the past years. Just like that. She’d done a ton for the gang to get to where it’d been, and she’d beaten up people for it, but never once had the thought of death had crossed her mind. And the day the worst had finally ended up happening, she’d sworn to herself to never let it happen again.
She’d never been good with other kids, so she’d never picked up any work involving them. But when she’d held her newborn son in her arms, she’d promised herself to never let him have a life like hers. To raise him to be a better person than herself. And when he’d come home, and told her about Toman all excited, she’d screamed at him until her throat had felt raw, and after he’d locked himself in his room, she’d cried herself to sleep.
She’d never gotten around to apologising to him. For all the times she’d screamed and cried instead of calmly explained. It had always been in her nature, in her parents’ nature, and she’d always told herself to change growing up, but then she’d held a screaming baby in her arms, and she hadn’t known what else to do instead of kissing it better, and eventually screaming back when being gentle didn’t solve any of the problems.
Ryoko’s always been a woman full of regrets. And now, with two police officers sitting at her kitchen table, fake compassion written all over their faces, she knows for sure that she’ll always be one.
,,Tell me he isn’t dead’’, she hisses. ,,Tell me he’s in the hospital. That he’ll make it. Tell me, officers, he’s going to jail, not to heaven.’’
,,Ma’am, I’m sorry, but—’’
,,No!’’, she lashes out at him, ,,Don’t tell me he’s dead! Please. Please, don’t tell me he’s dead. He’s not. He can’t be. Please...’’
Her voice loses volume as quickly as she loses herself in her emotions.
,,Your son has been killed. The murderer has already been identified, and he’s on his way to jail right now’’, one of the officers explains.
The other one reaches for her, over the table, hoping to calm her down.
,,He didn’t mean to.’’
It’s a statement. Neither a question nor a suggestion. She has no clue who’s punched her Keisuke one too many times, who’s put a knife through his chest, who’s shot a bullet through him. What she knows is that the kid didn’t mean to. He couldn’t possibly have meant to.
,,That’s not for you to decide—’’
,,He did not mean to. No sixteen year-old ever does!’’, she screams, jumping up, and accidentally throwing over her chair.
Twenty-six years ago, the girl hadn’t meant it, and now, the boy hasn’t. Ryoko’s sure of it. What kid would ever kill another, knowing of death, full of hate, and certain of all the consequences? What kid would ever bring a knife to a fist fight hoping for murder? Teens are stupid. She’d realised that at sixteen. Teens are really fucking stupid, and they win fist fights by leaving their opponent dead on accident.
,,Ma’am, please calm down’’, the other officer says. Pleads. He looks at her with big eyes. But he doesn’t promise to do better. He doesn’t shove her away. He doesn’t laugh at her continued efforts. He doesn’t say, Mom, I will do better. Trust me. Someday, I will, and then he doesn’t flash her a toothy grin with his eyes glassy with tears.
,,Leave’’, she says, ,,Please leave. I don’t have it in me to answer any questions today.’’
,,Would you like a therapist? We’ve got a specialist available.’’
,,I need time to grieve my son’’, she hisses, and angrily nods towards the door.
The officers reluctantly leave. Once she closes the door behind them, she lets herself fall to the floor, and she lets her tears fall, too.
She sobs. Bitterly. Loudly. Uglily. She sobs, and cries, and screams.
,,Keisuke! Keisuke, you idiot. I love you. I love you! I’ve always loved you! Why did you do this? Why did you do this to me?’’, she yells into the emptiness of her flat.
And this time, Keisuke doesn’t curse back.
━━━━━━━
Since they’d found the culprit on the scene, and he’s been collaborating perfectly since the start, the coroner declares Keisuke’s corpse available for his relatives less than a week after his death.
On his birthday.
On Keisuke’s birthday, Ryoko only leaves her bed after noon because she’s on sick leave for two weeks. She’s already called off all festives, too. Her sister doesn’t visit, and neither does her brother, or any of her siblings in law. Her father’s been dead for a long time, and her mother’s not coming, nor is her new boyfriend. Ryoko’s husband and Keisuke’s father had died barely a year after his birth, so now it’s just Ryoko and the ghost of her son.
At three o’clock, the doorbell rings.
It’s Chifuyu. God (she’d stopped believing in Him at twelve, when her father’d died after a year long battle with cancer) bless him.
With Chifuyu, there’s a cardboard box way too big for his body.
,,What should have been our birthday gifts for Baji-san’’, he cries. ,,We didn’t know what else to do with them.’’
Ryoko hugs him until her sweater is all wet, until her tears are in Chifuyu’s hair, until they pull away suddenly because someone else’s door opens in the hallway, and it makes them both jolt.
She invites Chifuyu over for some tea, some dessert, but Chifuyu doesn’t look at her face as he shakes his head, and Ryoko knows he couldn’t bear seeing the empty, quiet flat. She tells him it’s okay. They thank each other, and Chifuyu leaves.
The only reason Ryoko opens the box that day is to take out the food because Chifuyu tells her there’s a fresh onigiri, and she doesn’t want it to go bad. It’s tasty. And from Emma. One of Keisuke’s childhood friends.
She sobs with half-chewed rice in her mouth.
━━━━━━━
The police are quick to update her about Keisuke’s murderer, as they like to call him.
Ryoko hates it.
Kazutora’s just a child. Children don’t murder.
They kill, she supposes. On accident.
But no child would ever murder her Keisuke. Especially not Kazutora. Never Kazutora.
━━━━━━━
Dear Kazutora, Ryoko writes. I forgive you.
No.
She scribbles it out. Then, she tries anew.
I don’t forgive you. How could I? You’re part of the reason why my son is dead. I will never forgive you for his death, the way I will never forgive myself for Keisuke turning out the way he did. I loved him. I still love him. But he didn’t turn out good, and he didn’t turn out alive, and that’s not something I can forgive myself for.
But, Kazutora, I’m as close to forgiving you as I can possibly be. I don’t blame you. I don’t resent you. I don’t hate or dislike you.
I know you did your very best. Don’t beat yourself up too much.
Sincerely,
Ryoko
After she reads through her letter again, she buries it in a pile of papers on her desk, hoping to forget it forever. She can’t bear thinking about Kazutora, not right now. She hopes he doesn’t hate himself too much. She really does. But she can’t bear looking him in the eyes, or pour out her heart to him. Not yet. So she doesn’t send the letter, and she doesn’t visit him.
━━━━━━━
Chifuyu’s the first to turn up for Keisuke’s funeral. He runs up into Ryoko’s open arms, and they both already shed tears before anyone else arrives.
Draken, Emma, and Mikey follow soon after, dragging along a kid called Takemichi who Ryoko hasn’t heard of before. He seems to be a newer friend, but he sobs louder and longer than anyone else.
Haruchiyo comes late and leaves early, and she misses her chance to greet him. He only watches from the sidelines, but he looks the most broken out of all of Keisuke’s friends. There’s a muscular teen towering over him who she’s never seen before. He’s quiet, and always an arm length apart from Haru. She doesn’t get to greet him, either.
Because he’s in jail for the deceased’s homicide, Kazutora doesn’t turn up.
A lot of Ryoko’s relatives attend, too. Her two siblings, and their families, alongside her mother. They all look at her full of pity, yet with a strange sense of relief because it’s not their kid lying in the casket.
Ryoko makes sure to hug all of Keisuke’s friends close, and she tells them all that she’s glad that they got to be friends. That she’s happy that Keisuke was so happy with them. Before saying goodbye, she tells them that they should quit Toman while they can, before any other tragic things happen. In the shimmer of their eyes, she sees that they’d rather die than give up their gang, and for a split second, she’s worried for them as if they were her own children.
━━━━━━━
The night of the funeral, she comes back to visit the graveyard again. It’s the first time in years she stops to pray to her dead husband, even if she doesn’t believe in God, the first time in even longer she talks to her father’s headstone, and the first time in over a decade she stops at the grave of her childhood friend Asa.
That day, she ends up crying for four people, but mostly her dead son.
━━━━━━━
A few weeks later, she tries writing a letter again.
Dear Kazutora,
I hope you’re doing well. As well as you can, given the circumstances.
I’m doing fine enough, I suppose.
I want you to know that I’ll never hate you. And, please, don’t hate yourself. You deserve happiness too. In Keisuke’s stead, maybe. Because he’s got nothing to deserve anymore.
I hope you can still sleep well.
Ryoko
━━━━━━━
Whenever Ryoko looks into a mirror now, she sees Keisuke staring back. They share their eyes, their face, their hair. Hell, even their fangs. Keisuke’s cheeks are a bit rounder, his shoulders a bit broader, his eyebrows a bit more angled. Those are the only features he shares with his father.
Because Ryoko can’t bear looking at her dead son whenever she wants to look at herself, she cuts her hair. And bleaches it.
It doesn’t suit her. It’s a jarring difference, and everyone at her workplace comments on it. Most with a derogatory gaze. Ryoko knows it doesn’t look good on her. Knows it’s different. Knows it’s bad; but that’s precisely what she likes about her new hair style. It looks horrible, and Keisuke would never wear anything even remotely similar, and now when she looks into a mirror, with an ugly, too yellow bob that’s pretty uneven because she cut it herself, what she sees are her darkened eye bags, her pursed lips, her greasy face. Her face. With too many moles she’d love to cover up with make-up if she had the motivation to do anything at all, with fanged teeth that are far from perfectly white or straight, and with cheeks too sunken in for her age.
━━━━━━━
Her house is way too quiet without Keisuke.
Every time she comes home, she waits for him to yell hello. To hear his and Chifuyu’s, his and Kazutora’s, his and Haru’s laughter.
But there is no laughter.
There is no Keisuke.
So she starts talking to herself.
At first, she thinks she’s going crazy. Who talks to themself to fill the emptiness in their heart? To fill the hole in their flat?
But when Ryoko talks to herself, she feels less alone. She narrates her cooking, reads her books out loud, judges her own clothing choices, discusses her favorite movies with herself. She talks, she whispers, she laughs, and she screams. On the days she doesn’t want to get out of bed, she screams at herself until she manages, and then she feels like shit. But at least her flat isn’t suffocatingly quiet.
━━━━━━━
It takes Ryoko a month to be able to set foot into Keisuke’s room again.
Because it’s been so long, it’s all dirty, and the first thing she does is wipe away the dust.
Halfway through, she breaks down on his bed. For the last time, she falls asleep wrapped in his scent, even if only for a nap.
She dreams of Halloween. Keisuke comes home late. He brings all his friends, and buckets full of candy. Ryoko hugs them all—Keisuke twice, and Kazutora the longest.
It’s the only time she allows them to have sweets for dinner, and the only time she allows them to watch TV while having a meal, and they’re all ecstatic when she lets them watch a horror movie.
Even in her study, she can hear them shriek, and laugh every other while. Once, she yells at them to quiet down, and is met with an even louder scream. But all she does at that is roll her eyes.
Then she wakes up.
All alone. In Keisuke’s cold, empty bed.
She desperately tries falling asleep again for almost an hour. Until she finally gives up, and starts sobbing because her Keisuke didn’t come home on Halloween. Because he’d died on Halloween. Because her son is dead, and he didn’t even get to celebrate his fifteenth birthday.
━━━━━━━
Another two weeks later, she visits his room again. She manages to take off Keisuke’s bedsheets, throwing them all into the washing machine, and she manages to dust off everything, and even to sort out his messy desk. Now that he isn’t here anymore, she can finally organise his chaos without him complaining about it. Except, now, his constant grumbling, and muttering, and his occasional outbursts are ringing in her ears, and it’s way too quiet without him there.
To combat it, Ryoko narrates everything she does outloud.
At the bottom of a pile of random papers and school work, she finds a list of birthdays of all of Keisuke’s friends. With names.
December 19, it reads. Chifuyu.
Ryoko used to know this. By heart. In the midst of everything, she’d forgotten. But it must be her lucky day, because today is December nineteen.
She doesn’t know any of the boys’ numbers, so she scrambles for Keisuke’s phone. Soon enough, she’s saved all his friends numbers into her own phone, and she takes the birthday list, and hangs it up on the wall above her bed. It’s been way too long without any contact with Keisuke’s friends.
The same evening, she rings Chifuyu’s doorbell, and she brings him one of his favorite records that belong to Baji. Ryoko knows because they’d always been excited to listen to it together. And Ryoko gifts it away because even if it’s her music now, she can’t bear listening to anything Keisuke’d loved.
Chifuyu pulls her into a hug, and she holds him close.
,,Happy Birthday’’, she says, slight smile tugging at her lips.
,,Thank you, Ms—’’
,,Ryoko’’, she states, a little too hissy.
,,Thank you, Ryoko-san’’, Chifuyu repeats, nodding.
,,You’re welcome’’, she says, and then she turns around, leaving Chifuyu alone.
━━━━━━━
One summer day, as Ryoko’s on her way home after doing her groceries, she finds a boy sitting on the stairs leading up to her flat. It’s not the first time she finds someone sitting there, and she’s not bothered by teens blocking the way when they’re nice enough to make way for her, so she doesn’t intend on stopping, but when she hears him huff in pain as he moves to let her through, she immediately halts.
,,Are you alright?’’, she asks.
,,It’s nothing—’’, the boy presses out, but she interrupts him as she recognises his long, blond hair.
,,Draken?’’
,,Oh. Yeah.’’ He nods.
Ryoko crouches down to meet his eye level. There’s dried blood under his nose, and a bruise on his cheek. He doesn’t look good at all.
,,Are you sure you’re okay?’’
,,Mhm. On my way to Chifuyu’s, just taking a bit of a break.’’
Ryoko sighs.
,,I can lend you a helping hand? A bottle of water, and maybe someone to lean on while you’re walking up there?’’ She nods upwards, to where the stairs lead.
Draken immediately looks relieved, but also stiffens up at her being able to tell that he is, in fact, not doing good at all.
,,Thank you, Ms—’’
,,Just Ryoko is fine.’’
,,Thanks, Ryoko.’’ Draken bows his head.
,,I’ve only got sparkling’’, Ryoko explains as she draws a bottle of water from her shopping bag.
,,’S fine’’, Draken mumbles, and downs half of it in one swift move anyway.
He holds out the bottle for her as soon as he’s done, but Ryoko shakes her head. ,,Keep it. And now, come on.’’
Draken stands up, plastic bottle in hand, and he seems strong enough on his legs. He lets out a hiss of pain when he turns around, and brushes over his side where his ribcage lies, and Ryoko hopes that none of his bones are broken. She knows it happens in gang fights, especially when someone’s jumped—but she hopes that’s not the case this time.
Ryoko watches as Draken starts walking up the stairs. She can see the way it pains him every time he lifts his left leg, probably something to do with his ribs. But he’s safe on his legs. There’s no swaying side to side, and he’s relatively fast, so she stands up straight, and follows him until she arrives at her floor.
,,Take care’’, Ryoko says, and after Draken stops to look at her, she adds, ,,You’d better leave Toman someday soon. I’m pretty sure it’s in your best interest not to end up worse than this next time.’’ even if she knows it falls on deaf ears.
,,Hm’’, is all Draken says, and then he turns his face away and continues walking up the stairs to get to the fifth floor.
━━━━━━━
Another month after, she tries writing again.
Dear Kazutora,
It’s been a while. I’m sorry I still haven’t sent you any letters. I still haven’t visited you.
You know, Kazutora, I don’t resent you. I’m angry, sure. Sad. Pained. But I don’t blame you.
You’re always welcome to visit.
I never told you, but when you’d given your father my phone number, he’d started calling every time you didn’t come home. He’d scream at me, demanding to know where you are, and where I live. I’d never told him. Sometimes I’d fake cried, trying to convince him that Keisuke’d run away too. That you both had run away, and found a hideout somewhere. I’m pretty sure he’d ended up spending nights looking for you while you were peacefully sleeping in Keisuke’s bed. In the end, I blocked his number, and his burner phone number, too. He was too annoying with his angry calls.
I know I screamed at you and Keisuke a lot. I’m sorry for that. I know it’s too late to apologise, but still.
Please take care of yourself.
Ryoko
━━━━━━━
One day, when she goes to visit Keisuke’s grave, there’s already someone there. Takemichi?
,,Hello’’, she says.
,,Oh! Hey, Ms. Baji, right? I’m Takemichi!’’, he beams, and holds out his hand, even in the pouring rain, and right in front of Keisuke’s grave. It reminds her of Asa, and she can’t help but smile.
,,Ryoko. Nice to meet you again.’’
They shake hands, and then, Takemichi turns towards Keisuke’s gravestone again.
,,How long did you know him for?’’, Ryoko asks.
,,Um... two weeks, I think. Not long enough...’’, Takemichi trails off, and closes his fist around nothing.
,,How was he to you? Honestly?’’, she dares to ask. Keisuke’d started to become pretty quiet about his friends and activities the month before his death. The last she’d heard was that Kazutora’d gotten out of juvie.
,,Brash’’, Takemichi deadpans. ,,Oh! Wait, no. I have a tendency to be a bit rude and impulsive too, you see...’’
He looks genuinely sorry, and it makes Ryoko laugh.
,,He has it from me, for sure’’, she assures him, smile on her lips.
,,I didn’t know him well, we only really talked once. But I know that he was very selfless. Even if I didn’t exactly get it in the beginning, everyone’s always loved him, and I turned around eventually, too’’, Takemichi continues to explain.
Ryoko nods.
,,Leave Toman while you can’’, she tells him. ,,Before more gruesome things like that happen.’’
Takemichi turns to look at her again, unsaid words in his eyes, but he doesn’t speak up again.
,,Thank you, Takemichi. Take care!’’, she calls out, and then she turns away.
━━━━━━━
And again.
Dear Kazutora,
I’m pretty sure this makes me sound like a weirdo, but I miss you. In all those years, you’ve grown on me. Almost like a son.
Don’t beat yourself up too much for all your wrongdoings. Everyone makes stupid mistakes.
Ryoko
━━━━━━━
Mitsuya’s sitting on the opposite side of Ryoko’s dining table, hungrily slurping his miso soup. There’s a speck of blood on his lip where it’d cracked earlier that day when he’d been jumped just after leaving Chifuyu’s flat, and there’s still a bloodied tissue in one of his nostrils. There’s also a bandaid on his cheek, and another on his forehead; he’d hit the floor face first.
She’d found him lying on the concrete just around the block on her way home from work, and she sure as hell wasn’t leaving him out there alone. But she doesn’t have a car, and he’d had injuries that needed pretty much immediate treatment, so she’d offered to take him home for the night, and now, here they are. It’s probably a weird thing to take home a stranger, much more a kid, but she’d had him inform both Hakkai and his mother, so it should all work out.
This is the second time she’s patching up one of Keisuke’s friends after his death, and the nth time she’s done the same since he’d helped form Toman. Keisuke and Chifuyu had kept coming home all bloodied and bruised up, and she’d shouted at them every time, but she’d patched them up with soft fingers every time anyway. She’s known how to do this since she’d been their age, and she understands why they’d kept coming home beat up, yet obviously she’d been scared for them. Rightfully so, alas.
,,Thank you’’, Mitsuya interrupts her train of thought, and Ryoko notices that his bowl is empty.
,,Want some more?’’
,,No, thanks.’’
Mitsuya stands up, and he already looks a lot better. The water and food have definitely helped, and the ibuprofen for his bruised ribs seems to be working now. But it’s already dark outside, and she isn’t letting him drive off alone in his current condition. That’s when an idea comes to her.
,,I know how to drive a bike. I can get you home’’, she states more than she offers. ,,I’ve even got a helmet.’’
For a second, Mitsuya looks like he immediately wants to deny her. Then his face softens, and he nods.
,,That’s probably a good idea... Are you sure?’’
It’s Ryoko’s turn to firmly nod, and when Mitsuya doesn’t protest, she makes a beeline for her room after gesturing towards the front door. In the back of her closet, she finds her husband’s old bike jacket, as well as an old helmet she hasn’t worn in a decade. Eventually, she’d wanted to gift Keisuke the jacket—he hadn’t grown tall enough yet. At least it can have its end with one of his friends, even if it’s on her instead.
When she arrives at the front door, Mitsuya’s already wearing his helmet. He’s cleaned his lips, and the tissue in his nose is gone without any more blood coming out, so that’s a good sign. They both put on their shoes and jackets, and after a last, ,,Everything okay?’’ they leave the flat.
Ryoko hasn’t driven in a good two years (she’d sneaked Keisuke’s bike once or twice back when he’d been oblivious to it) so she doesn’t exactly feel comfortable doing this, especially considering that Mitsuya’s sitting behind her, but she swallows down her anxiety, and revs up the bike. Mitsuya tightens his hold around her waist, and then they speed off into the distance.
She doesn’t have any difficulties following Mitsuya’s lead. They even make a bit of smalltalk. She’s wearing her late husband’s jacket; he used to bike. She did too. Until he’d died in an unrelated freak accident. Mitsuya’s a family guy because his father fucked off to God knows where after his youngest sister’s birth, and he’s really glad for Hakkai because his mom has to work overtime, and he constantly has to watch his younger sisters. He really loves them, though, and he doesn’t really resent his mom.
Feeling the cold airstream hit her while biking isn’t something she’d realised she misses before today, and the warmth from the additional body behind her makes it all even better. It feels better, safer in a way. Less alone.
At the Mitsuyas’, she parks the bike in the garage Mitsuya opens for her. She gets a quick surprise hug, and before Mitsuya disappears in his building, Ryoko wishes him well.
,,Take care. And make sure you get out of Toman before something bad happens again.’’
Mitsuya stares at her for a second, and then silently turns around. The door closes behind him. Ryoko gazes at the full moon and the stars for a bit, and then turns around to try and find the next public transport station.
━━━━━━━
A year after Keisuke’s death, she invites all his friends to her house. It’s on his supposed sixteenth birthday, not on Halloween, because teens should be celebrating that day, and she doesn’t want to take that away from them.
Unexpectedly, Takemichi’s the first one to turn up.
,,Stop telling everyone to leave Toman’’, he tells her. ,,It won’t work. Trust me, I’ve tried.’’
Ryoko isn’t sure what to make of his words, but she still nods.
,,I just don’t want any more of you to die’’, she explains. ,,You know, when I was your age, a... girlfriend of mine died in a gang fight. I’ve known how to live like this for far longer than you’ve all been alive. I know how good it feels to be in a gang. And I know how dangerous it is, too.’’
Takemichi doesn’t comment on her usage of girlfriend, and simply smiles at her with glossy eyes. She pulls him into a quick hug. And then, the doorbell rings.
It’s Chifuyu. He brings a self made red velvet cake with chocolate frosting. Keisuke’s favorite.
They set up the couch table with the cake, some fried rice, and water, as well as apple juice. Ryoko turns on the TV, and puts on the action movie Keisuke’d watched with his friends in her first happy dream about him after his death.
Next, Draken, Mitsuya, and Mikey arrive.
Pah-chin is still in juvie, and so is Kazutora.
Lastly, Haru arrives, and he only sits down on the floor beside the couch, on the right side of Ryoko, when all the other kids are on her left. But she silently lets him.
After the movie and food, they go to visit the graveyard together. First, Toman visit Emma and Shinichiro’s grave, and Ryoko takes some time for herself to visit Asa’s before they all meet at the Baji family grave to pray. For Ryoko’s father, husband, and, most importantly, for her son.
There, in the midst of Keisuke’s crying friends, they all look like little kids. Little kids who lost their friend way, way too young.
And Ryoko really hopes that the ones remaining today make it for even longer than she will.
━━━━━━━
And again,
Dear Kazutora,
As a teen, I was also in a gang. A girl gang.
When I was sixteen, my best friend died in a gang fight.
I know your pain. I know at least that part of your story.
Ever since Keisuke’d been part of Toman, I’d been fearing for this. In a way, I was prepared. It doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it makes dealing with it a bit easier. It makes not resenting you a lot easier, too.
I hope you’ve found peace within yourself.
Ryoko
━━━━━━━
On August twenty, she calls Mikey’s number again. It takes him a bit to answer the phone.
,,Hello’’, she starts, ,,It’s Ryoko. I called to, uh, wish you a happy birthday. That’s all.’’
,,Thank you’’, Mikey answers after a short pause.
,,Are you and your friends doing well?’’
,,...Yeah’’, is all he replies.
,,Really?’’, Ryoko digs deeper. Too deep, perhaps.
,,It’s... complicated. But thank you for caring.’’
There’s a quick laugh on Mikey’s side. It almost feels forced.
,,It’s the least I can do’’, Ryoko explains. It’s the least she can do to try and protect all those little kids, now that they’ve lost both Keisuke and Emma.
,,Mhm’’, Mikey absently hums.
,,Take care.’’
,,You too.’’
,,Goodbye, Mikey’’, she finishes, and then, Mikey hangs up before he gets to say goodbye too.
Ryoko thinks it’s weird. But it’s not her place to figure what’s up with Mikey, so all she does is pray (she’d stopped believeing in God at twelve, but she’s not so sure anymore if she doesn’t want Him to exist since, if He does, Keisuke’s surely ended up in Heaven) for him that night.
━━━━━━━
Again,
Dear Kazutora,
I lied in my last letter. Asa, the girl who died, wasn’t just my best friend. She was also my girlfriend.
I understand you more than you think I do.
Try to forgive yourself in my stead, please.
Ryoko
━━━━━━━
After more than two years, she still comes home to a home filled with holes.
She’s grown out her hair again, has let the dye fade out, and she resembles Keisuke in mirrors again. But it’s okay. Now it’s a weird sense of comfort to see him staring back. To see him smiling back whenever she does, to watch him laugh as she does, to seemingly touch his face when she touches hers.
These days, she’s picked up being the one to share yaki-soba with Chifuyu. He’s a nice kid. He’s slowly growing into a nice, kind young man, and he’s doing the best he can.
Ryoko hugs him too often and too long, but he always hugs back with the same desperation.
Sometimes they visit the graveyard together. Sometimes they go there, sitting down on the cold floor, and talk out their hearts. About movies, the weather, kitties, and Keisuke. For Keisuke. To Keisuke. In memory of Keisuke.
Almost everywhere Ryoko goes, Keisuke goes too, and she’d started introducing herself as Ryoko to everyone on the first of November in 2005 because she can’t bear being the Baji she’s now lost three times.
━━━━━━━
Again.
Dear Kazutora,
I want to forgive you.
Come visit sometime, when you get out. I’d love to see you again.
Be kind to yourself. You were just a child.
Ryoko
But she never ends up sending any of her letters.
━━━━━━━
Three years down the line, she decides to move out. After all this time, she can’t bear looking at her empty flat anymore. To her, it’s empty. Will always be with no Keisuke to share her time. It’s as if there is a great hole in the wall where Keisuke’s room used to be. As if their dining table’s broken apart, and she’s only able to use half of it. As if half of her couch, and bathroom cabinets, and shoe rack are made of something toxic because she hasn’t touched Keisuke’s half since his death.
Chifuyu, Ryoko knows, wants the apartment.
She sells it to him for half the market price because he’s barely eighteen, and she loves him like a son still. Plus, her new flat is a lot smaller, and as such a lot cheaper, too.
It’s closer to where her mother lives, but it’s further away from the only graves she’s ever known.
So, before she leaves—after she’s moved all the furniture she wants to keep, and it’s only her who hasn’t gone—she visits the graveyard one last time.
Well. She’s going to keep visiting it. But only every few months. It’ll take her forty minutes to drive on good days, even more on most, and that’s just not something she wants to have to do if all she really does is pray to a God she doesn’t believe in, or talk to ghosts that can’t reply anyway. So, this is her last effortless trip to Keisuke’s, her husband’s, her father’s, and Asa’s final beds.
She brings them flowers one last time. Hydrangeas for Keisuke, bluebells for her husband, asters for her father, gardenias for Asa, and some sweet peas for them all. She leaves half of a pack of yaki-soba with Keisuke (the other half she leaves at Chifuyu’s door), half of a peeled orange with her husband, one of her father’s favorite books with him, and a half finished cigarette with Asa. With heavy, salty tears, she’s left, and with one less burden on her back she leaves.
One last time, she locks Keisuke’s room behind her. In her ears, his complaints, and his laughs ring.
━━━━━━━
Dear Kazutora, she writes one final time. On the floor in her new apartment. In the middle of the night. In the dimmed light of her bedside lamp.
I forgive you.
Come visit me sometime when you get out. I’d love to see how much you’ve grown.
Best wishes,
Ryoko
Even if she doesn’t really forgive him. But to explain to Kazutora that she doesn’t quite forgive him, but that she doesn’t blame him, that she doesn’t resent him, that she’s not angry at him, and that she’d like to see him again—she doesn’t have the words to truly explain all that. So she settles for the closest thing to the conclusion she’s come to in the past years. It’s not a hundred percent true. Though, does it really have to be? If it puts Kazutora at ease, even just a little bit, and she can live with that lie, isn’t it the best for everyone?
A day later, she sends the letter.
And then she swears to never look back again.