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I’ve always been quick to get upset.
Like a pot filled with water, quietly simmering as it sits on a stovetop. Crank up the heat or throw in something unexpected, and it boils over.
The consequences of this are usually a pain in the ass to deal with. My short fuse has landed me in trouble more times than I can count, especially when I was younger. Always ‘act first, think later’. I’ve tried fixing it, but as much as I hate to admit it, I’m a pretty emotional person. No matter how hard I try to drown out or bury my feelings, they always bubble up to the surface eventually. As I’ve grown older, instead of pointlessly attempting to change my nature, I’ve learned to live with it, I guess.
One time when we were on a smoke break, back around when I first started at the bureau, Yabukawa taught me an exercise that he said would help me calm down when I was worked up. Ten deep, focused breaths, in and out. That’s all. At the time, I was sort of pissed off by his seemingly bullshit solution— there was no way it could be that simple.
I brushed it aside and forgot about it for years, but a few days after we found Yabukawa’s body, his old suggestion popped into my head, and I decided to give it a try. It isn’t a complete fix (not like he claimed that it was), but damn, I can’t deny that it helps.
I kind of wish I had listened to him sooner, but it’s pointless to sit and ponder about shit like that. You can’t change the past.
I know that all too well.
Breathe in.
Reach into your concealed sheath and carefully take out your trusty combat knife. Feel the weight of it in your hand. Catch a glimpse of yourself in the blade’s distorted reflection. Remember all the lives this weapon has claimed.
Hope that after today, you’ll never need to use it again.
Breathe out. One.
Breathe in.
Close the distance between you and him. Hear the crunch of the gravel beneath your feet. Don’t look at his face, because if you do, you might change your mind, and it’s too late for that now. Kneel down next to the chair he’s in, careful as to not touch any wires.
Breathe out. Two.
Breathe in.
Focus. Forget about the throbbing in your head, the slight tremor in your hands. Remember that you’ve done this hundreds of times before. Remind yourself that this should be no different. Steady your heartbeat. Shake off any doubts you have.
Breathe out. Three.
Breathe in.
Reminisce about all the missions the two of you have gone on. Think about his first day at the office. Regret every time you yelled at him over something stupid. Imagine a kinder world where things didn’t turn out like this, a world where you were honest with yourself and with him, a world where you could’ve been happy. Hide these thoughts away, because he can never know, and you can’t truly accept them, especially not in this moment.
Breathe out. Four.
Breathe in.
Locate his jugular veins on the side of his neck closest to you. Note that his skin is fairer than usual. Feel your knife grow heavier. Watch as he closes his eyes in preparation, as he accepts his fate.
Breathe out. Five.
Breathe in.
Even though you aren’t religious, whisper a prayer to any god who is listening. Wonder if there is such a thing as Hell. Think that there mustn’t be, because this man-made life in the ward is certainly worse than any punishment a higher being could conceive. Contemplate that maybe this is all a trial and that one day you’ll be rewarded for all the hardships you’ve been through.
Breathe out. Six.
Breathe in.
Ready your blade. Pause for a moment and reconsider your actions. Wonder to yourself if things really have to turn out this way. Search through your memories for any way to remove the needle in his spine that won’t kill him. Consider finding Nango and Mitsumoto and asking them for help. Remember the promise you made to Mitsumoto and realize that if you don’t finish the job, he will.
Rationalize that this is the only solution.
Stop avoiding it.
Breathe out. Seven.
Breathe in.
Press your knife against his neck. Watch him tense up slightly as the cold metal touches his skin. Close your eyes.
Quickly and deeply cut the jugulars.
Ignore his sharp inhale as his blood pours out, dyeing his black suit even darker. Watch as his head drops and fingers go limp. Listen to the drum of your pulse as it quickens. Observe the full moon gradually becoming more visible as the sun fades below the horizon.
Breathe out. Eight.
Breathe in.
Wipe his blood off your blade. Notice the static creeping into the corners of your vision. Attempt to ground yourself. Remember your counting. Taste the bile as it rises from your stomach and into your throat. Suppress the urge to vomit. Try to maintain your composure. Silently wonder why this is so difficult, even though you know the reason deep down.
Breathe out. Nine.
Breathe in.
Locate the needle in the back of his neck. Pull it out with a bit of force. Free him from the hand and foot restraints on the chair. Brush his wind-blown hair out of his face and stare at his peaceful yet lifeless expression. Promise to get him out of this city, far away where no one can find him.
Remember how he told you minutes ago that you’d never truly apologized to him before.
Apologize.
Tell him you’re sorry.
Tell him you’re sorry for everything. Tell him you’re sorry for being a shitty partner. Tell him you’re sorry that things had to end this way.
I’m sorry…
Breathe out. Ten.