Work Text:
It's down to me and you
In this cold and empty room
Forgotten what we're dying for
Just tell me what to change
Just tell me what to say
'Cause I can't feel it anymore
But why are we so incomplete?
- “Dust & Gold” — Arrows to Athens
It was strange to be back on the compound now, after everything that had changed. He caught sight of the maids from the corner of his eye - was it his imagination, or were they avoiding him more than usual? After the way he had left, with the ambulance lights flashing along the walls of the familiar buildings, making them strange, different, he wouldn’t be surprised. It almost felt as though those lights had changed everything forever - perhaps they had. Kureno shook his head as he reached his room, pushing the door open. What a silly thought.
But things had changed.
“Saving me in a half-assed way...or abandoning me in a half-assed way… That “kindness” or whatever it’s supposed to be...has been killing me!”
Akito’s words still echoed in his mind against these walls. The whole compound was full of them and he found that she was right. He’d done everything so half-assedly. They were not who they had been - not anymore.
He let out a breath and moved forward, settling into the big armchair in front of his desk and leaning his cane against the arm of the chair. He could feel something heavy in his chest as he reached out and began to pull down the papers, looking through them and beginning the quiet process of setting them in order. Whoever took over as Akito’s assistant after him would need them, after all. So many little things: the budgets, maintenance orders, the hundreds of small working parts that made the family run. Carefully he filed each away in their respective files. Months worth of backlogs - he ordered them and shut them away in the drawers with tidy labels.
As though it was really that easy to move on from the past.
Still, the work was a good distraction and he lost sense of time with the steadiness of it. Enough that he missed the sound of the door opening. Even the feeling of eyes on him went unnoticed for a while.
“So you’re leaving then.”
Kureno nearly jumped, looking over to find Shigure leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed and steel grey eyes cold, like they always were lately. He felt something in his throat tighten. “Nii-san.” His gaze dropped back to the file in his hands. “Yes. I’m going somewhere else. To the country.”
Shigure made a sound low in his throat, the only acknowledgment he’d give for that piece of information. “I suppose it’s better late than never. And who will be Akito-san’s assistant now that you’re abandoning her like an unwanted child?”
He smiled slightly, sadly. He didn’t look up. “I had thought you would.” It had made sense to him, with Shigure and Akito likely moving forward without him - at least he hoped. For Akito’s sake. Judging by the older man’s face when Kureno looked up, however, it hadn’t quite occurred to Shigure. “You’ll be by her side now. It’s only right you take over this, too.”
Kureno watched as Shigure’s eyes narrowed, searching for any trick. He hadn’t expected this turn and it almost made Kureno laugh. Hadn’t he realized their war had always been one-sided? He let out a sigh, getting to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “Everything should be easy to find. Tohru will have my number if its an emergency.”
As he started towards the door, Shigure moved to the side. Kureno could hear an echo of Akito’s voice, whispers of distant grey eyes. In that moment, he had to agree. Something about Shigure was stoic, like a wall of silence given form.
“I do hate you. You’re right. I despise you. You should be grateful that I’m speaking to you so frankly. Now you can play the martyr to your heart’s content.”
The words were still there, buried under that veneer of cool indifference. They had been for some time, some years now. Had it really been so long? He could still remember their youth - when he’d followed Shigure around the compound like some lost chick, had hung on every word of his wild stories. They hadn’t exactly been close, but it hadn’t been like this.
He swallowed. “Nii-san?”
Shigure lifted his chin, brow raised. “I thought you were leaving?”
The words stung, but he didn’t let it show. “I just. . .wanted to say - I’m sorry. I never meant to stand in the way of you and Akito.” He could feel all the doubt he’d managed to quiet surge back at the taste of those words. He closed his eyes, gripping his cane enough to bleach the color from his knuckles, hoping Shigure didn’t notice that small sign of weakness. This time he kept his eyes to the floor - dusty, only a box and a lone forgotten book left. He’d moved the rest out to the rental car earlier. “I hope someday you can forgive me.”
There was a beat and Shigure drew in a slow breath, considering. “I’m not ready to forgive you. Not yet.”
Kureno’s gaze flicked up, but he nodded. It wasn’t what he’d hoped for, but he’d expected as much. And perhaps it was too soon. They didn’t have to be friends, after all, and time had a way of mending things. “I understand.” He opened his mouth, the old familiar reassurances crowding his tongue, as habitual as breathing. “Tell her—”
Then - the memory of those tears, of the blade sliding through the fabric of his shirt and into his back - that weakness, the inescapable sadness that Akito would never overcome if he stayed. If he half-assed this, too.
“That “kindness” or whatever it’s supposed to be...has been killing me!”
“Tell her,” he said gently, smile softening to something bittersweet but genuine, “I wish her well.”
The bustle of the crowd was worlds away from the quiet stillness of the main house and the Sohma compound. Here there were people out, laughing and living, going about their daily lives with whatever struggles they had, whatever wars they waged. A flowing sea of people, endless unfamiliar faces. A thrill curled through his gut as he hefted his small bag of things, feeling the handle and the weight of his past carefully folded and packed away in a battered suitcase that smacked lightly against his thigh as he walked.
The thrill lanced through him then, pressing against his throat, as his eyes caught that face in the crowd, the one he’d searched for. She was waiting at the end of the platform, her own suitcases stacked almost haphazardly beside her. She’d traded her long school skirt and uniform for jeans and a comfortable sweater. So simple, but it stole his breath. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d stopped walking.
When Arisa looked over a few moments later, he could see the amusement mix with the irritation on her face and she threw up a hand to wave him over. “Hey! C’mon! Don’t just stand there - the train’s gonna leave without us, silly!”
The sun was shining and he felt warm as he walked the last few feet to the platform and boarded the train, Arisa at his side. He didn’t look back.