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For such a nice day, Kenta’s mood probably shouldn’t be this gloomy. Nonsensically, it sort of feels like the weather is conspiring against him. Shouldn’t there be at least a few gray clouds up there? A light drizzle, if not the violent storm Kenta would have expected when he looked out of the window today? Instead, there is nothing but the vast expanse of blue sky in every direction, the sunlight bright and warm on his skin. The streets are packed with noise, people sharing food and laughter.
No matter how much time he spends lingering in front of the small shop, surveying his surroundings, he finds nothing that could mirror the dark thoughts swirling inside his head. It’s too hard even to dredge up any kind of expression while he watches a small child run after his brother with laughter trailing behind them, stonefaced. Squinting into the sun, Kenta thinks he should have brought sunglasses. Or better yet, he should have never left his house at all.
“Hey, Kenchi. Thought I’d find you here.”
The nickname is a dead giveaway, but Kenta still finds himself surprised when he turns around and comes face to face with Yu. With a small wave and an even smaller smile, Yu pushes his sunglasses into his hair (of course, he remembered to bring them) and steps closer. His eyes are still smiling even when his mouth is not.
“That is one seriously grim look. Why are you standing outside? You’re going to scare the children,” Yu says, raising an eyebrow. Kenta does not appreciate his teasing.
“Why are you here?” Kenta asks flatly. “How did you even know where to find me?”
Yu turns towards the flower shop that Kenta has been standing in front of for a while now. He bends to pick up a yellow rose from one of the buckets standing outside on display. Gazing at the flower thoughtfully, he hums and says,
“You know, when you do the same thing every year for seven years, at some point, your friends are gonna notice.” His tone is so serious like it very rarely is, but when he looks back at Kenta, his eyes are still smiling. “I thought you’d like some company, for once.”
Kenta blinks, not sure what to say for a moment. Like Yu said, it has been seven years. After so much time doing this on his own, he cannot imagine why Yu would suddenly want to join him. Especially so carefree and unannounced. The thought that he’d do this on a whim makes Kenta frown.
“We’ll see each other tonight, at the WBBA with the others,” Kenta reminds him, just to stall and see how Yu reacts.
Yu looks at him like his face is a puzzle that he can solve if he only looks hard enough. It makes Kenta want to squirm, feeling like he’s been put under a microscope with all his flaws and secrets on display, even though he knows he has become harder to read in the last few years. Eventually, Yu tilts his head to the side, back to smiling again. “You’re right. I’d like to celebrate the Legendary Bladers with you and our friends tonight. But I want to celebrate Ryuga, too, with you. The day is long. We have time to do both.”
Kenta does not want to celebrate; he wants to mourn. It’s a struggle every year to be reminded of the awful way Ryuga died (disintegrating into nothingness, leaving only a memory and an empty grave behind), meanwhile everyone else celebrates the victory over Nemesis, the prevention of the apocalypse. Like it cost nothing. Like it wasn’t painful, and ugly, and hard-earned. Like anything worthwhile is ever free. It’s just that people don’t care about the price as long as someone else has to pay it.
Maybe it’s unreasonable for Kenta to mourn someone he has only known (really known) for a handful of months, seven years after his death. Who else would mourn Ryuga, though? They had looked for his family, friends, acquaintances, anyone who would claim him as theirs after his death.
There was no one.
Ryuga was a ghost with no earthly ties to bind him. None except for Kenta.
It’s a heavy burden to put on an eleven-year-old kid and, although Kenta has long left that kid behind, he cannot shake that feeling of responsibility. Which explains why he is here, seven years later.
What it doesn’t explain is why Yu is here as well.
Yu, who apparently has decided that Kenta’s silence means acquiescence, puts the rose back into the bucket with the others and grabs Kenta’s hand with a smile. “Let’s go inside. The longer we stand here, the more I am seriously scared that your face is going to make someone cry.”
Kenta rolls his eyes (sure that Yu is exaggerating), but when faced with the choice of being dragged behind or quietly falling into step with Yu, the path of least resistance seems like the wiser decision.
Inside of the flower shop it’s pleasantly cool, and a little dim, the sun shining through the wide window of the storefront the only light source. Flowers are everywhere, colorful bundles of all kinds of sorts in buckets on every shelf, table and available space on the floor. There is a brown and white tabby cat lying in front of the window, napping in the sunlight. Yu makes a small, excited noise when he sees it, but quickly aborts his automatic movement towards it in favor of dragging Kenta further inside.
Behind the counter stands the same old man that always works there. When he looks up from cutting the stems of some tulips, Kenta is not surprised that the man doesn’t recognize him. The old man must get dozens of customers every day, and Kenta only comes here once a year.
“What can I get for you?” the man asks, his smile polite and a little bored. He puts the scissors down on the counter and pushes them and the tulips to the side with one absent-minded sweep of his arm.
Kenta clears his throat before Yu can open his mouth and ask for something ridiculous. “I’d like a bouquet with white chrysanthemums, please.”
Yu shoots him a narrow-eyed look like he can somehow sense that Kenta doesn’t trust his opinion on cemetery flowers. “That’s it?” He shakes his head a little in disapproval. Then, before Kenta can stop him, he turns to the old man and says, “Do you have plum blossoms?”
The old man shows Yu his plum blossoms, delicate, pale pink flowers along thin branches, while Yu makes the appropriate appreciative noises, nodding along. Kenta doesn’t say anything while the old man puts some in order around a handful of white chrysanthemums and lets Yu and Kenta appraise the arrangement. It is pretty, Kenta supposes, and not at all the bright color combination he would have expected Yu to pick.
“It’s pretty,” Yu says, unknowingly echoing Kenta’s thoughts. “I do wish there was some more color in there, though.”
Kenta’s mind flashes back to Yu, holding the bright yellow rose in his hands, eyes smiling as he gazes down at it, while his sunglasses threaten to fall down the back of his head. The image is cheerful, warm. Not quite what Kenta is going for today.
“They’re going on a grave, it’s fine as it is. Thank you,” Kenta says with emphasis, specifically addressing the old man with the last two words. The old man nods at him, immediately getting to work on adding the finishing touches and wrapping the bouquet for them.
Yu sighs, but he lets Kenta wrap up the transaction without a fuss. He shoots the cat, which has not moved from its spot in the sun, a wistful look when they leave, and Kenta starts to feel a little bad for him even though he has done nothing to prevent Yu from petting the cat if he had wanted to.
The sun is momentarily blinding as they step from inside the dimly lit shop out on the street. Kenta watches as Yu settles his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and brings one hand up to ruffle his bangs back in order. Yu raises a curious brow when he notices Kenta's attention is on him.
“So, what's next?”
Kenta starts to move in a direction, trusting that Yu will keep in step beside him. “The cemetery,” he says and tries to keep the deadpan out of his voice. Where else?
After a few steps, he notices that Yu has not followed him, has instead turned to look at the flower shop again, a slight pout on his lips. Kenta feels an involuntary smile tug on the corners of his mouth when he sees him like that. Yu has always worn his thoughts openly on his face. It’s nice to know that there are no hidden agendas behind his smiles, that there is no room for guess work, only for truth. It’s one of many reasons why Kenta likes to spend time with him.
After a moment, Yu seems to deflate a little and hurries to catch up with Kenta who has stopped to wait for him. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, “the cemetery?”
Kenta sighs. “Do you want to go back and pet the cat?”
“Huh?”
“The cat in the flower shop,” Kenta clarifies, and watches with something akin to satisfaction as Yu’s face lights up with a grin, ecstatic and child-like.
“Really? You don’t mind?”
Yu’s obvious glee and subsequent hesitance is kind of making Kenta feel like a villain. What’s his rush? Yu is right. They have the whole day. They can spend some time petting the damn cat.
“Yes, come on, let’s go,” Kenta says, decisively walking back to the flower shop. He pushes the door open and – trying not to feel awkward about it – attempts to seem nonchalant about returning here after just leaving.
He smiles at the old man behind the counter whose eyes widen in recognition at the two of them. Then Yu pushes past him to crouch next to the cat on the floor. It seems to have just woken up from its nap, so it luckily doesn’t startle at their sudden appearance. It sniffs Yu’s fingers curiously before pressing its whole body against Yu’s leg.
“Forgot something?”
Kenta startles at the question, embarrassed to realize that he forgot the old man was even there. “Kind of.” He sheepishly gestures at Yu, in his own little world with the cat, and shrugs. “Can we pet your cat for a bit?”
The old man waves his hand like he couldn’t care less, smiling a little. “She’s not mine, but of course you can. Wanders the neighborhood however she likes and visits all the shops on the street regularly. I’m surprised she’s not fatter with how many treats she snags from strangers.”
“What’s her name?” Yu asks, by now fully sitting cross-legged on the floor with the cat in his lap, rubbing her belly diligently.
The old man shrugs. “No idea.”
Yu frowns, evidently not satisfied, but the front door opens and a customer walks in, shifting the old man’s attention elsewhere. Kenta goes to crouch next to Yu, trailing his fingers over the soft tabby fur. He feels his shoulders slump as they both listen to the cat’s content purring, the vibrations even barely noticeable against his palm when Kenta splays his hand on the cat’s furred stomach.
The cat lightly headbutts Yu’s knuckles when he strokes over her small head, and for some reason, it reminds Kenta of the time he and Ryuga encountered a wild tiger in a rainforest so long ago. Kenta had still been wary of Ryuga, that he would leave Kenta behind without notice – had never really lost that wariness completely, to be honest – but when that tiger had appeared, Kenta had been terrified out of his mind. He had never climbed a tree so fast in all his life and he hasn’t since. But Ryuga had been unfazed. He had stepped closer and then, impossibly, glared the tiger into submission, until it cowered and ran. Kenta had clung to his tree branch and for the first time, seen Ryuga’s broad shoulders as something to rely on, something he could trust, and hide behind. For the first time, the sight of Ryuga’s back walking away, leading the way before him had filled Kenta with confidence, and it had made it easier for him to continue to follow after Ryuga even if Ryuga never once looked back.
Well, except for that one time.
His fingers bump against Yu’s while stroking the cat’s soft fur, lost in thought.
“You okay?” Yu asks.
Kenta looks up, and some of his thoughts must be showing on his face because Yu’s brows furrow in concern, his perpetual smile fading slightly.
“Yeah.” With a huff, Kenta gets to his feet. “If you’ve had your fill, we should probably get going.”
Yu doesn’t protest, merely nods and pats the cat’s flank affectionately one last time, before carefully ushering her off his lap and standing up. He brushes cat hair off his clothes, and turns to wave goodbye to the old shop owner while Kenta holds the door open for him.
“That was nice, don’t you think?” Yu says, head tilted back to look at the blue sky as they make their way along the sidewalk. It doesn’t seem like he expects Kenta to answer – he usually doesn’t – so Kenta just hums and lets him talk cheerfully about nothing of importance.
That’s another good thing about Yu: He understands that there are times when words are just too much, when Kenta has to retreat into his thoughts and let outside noise wash over him, let it bring his thoughts back in order and try and anchor himself in the present instead of forcing the unsettled energy down where it would run rampant, make him jittery and distracted and a little numb.
The chatter fills the glum silence that has surrounded Kenta since he woke up this morning and had frowned at the sky for its lack of rain. He feels a little lighter for Yu’s presence, his smiles and his animated gestures. It’s kind of nice to not have to do this alone.
His previous visits to Ryuga’s grave in the last seven years have not been fun exactly, and they all kind of blur together in his memories, the heaviness on his shoulders, the tightness of his chest, and white chrysanthemums, bouquet after bouquet, every year the same. But it would undoubtedly weigh heavier on his mind if he didn’t do this, didn’t acknowledge the significance of this day in some kind of way when everyone else seemed hellbent on forgetting that it was not just a day of victory and celebration but also of tragedy and loss.
Yes, they had saved the world. They had saved countless lives. That didn’t make the one life they hadn’t been able to save any less important.
“Are you hungry? I’m kind of hungry,” Yu muses and as if on cue, Kenta’s stomach grumbles. Not loud enough for Yu to hear, probably, but Kenta still feels his face flush.
“We’re going to the cemetery,” Kenta reminds him. It’s so hard not to feel like an asshole when he has to turn down every suggestion Yu makes. But he doesn’t want them to get distracted from their goal, either.
Yu smiles at him. “I haven’t forgotten,” he says gently, not a reprimand. Kenta winces, anyway. “We can just eat on the way.” He gestures towards a small stall at a street corner not far from them that seems to sell ikayaki, the line not terribly long. The closer they get the more the delicious scent of grilled squid fills the air. Kenta’s mouth waters.
Turning back to Yu and being confronted with his hopeful eyes shatters his crumbling resolve to pieces. It’s so hard to deny Yu anything, close to impossible to hear him express a wish – always so earnest, he truly never changes – and tell him point-blank no. Giving in is so much easier, and more familiar territory, anyway.
“Alright. But I don’t want anything,” Kenta sighs, and Yu doesn’t need any further encouragement to rush the small distance ahead and get in line behind an elderly couple, a bounce in his step.
At least, it will make Yu happy.
Kenta has always had a hard time letting himself be happy when the feeling of loss is so pronounced and all-consuming some days. There is some solace in the knowledge that at the very least his mood isn’t dimming Yu’s positivity all that much.
Kenta blinks himself out of his thoughts as two sticks of ikayaki held in one hand enter his field of vision.
He turns to Yu who is grinning at him, another two sticks of grilled squid in his other hand. Kenta frowns.
“I said I don’t want anything.”
It’s a testament to how much Ryuga is on his mind on this day, that this situation reminds him so much of the time Ryuga gave him a grilled fish when he had been half-starving. He had been so relieved to have found something to eat, after passing out the day before from sheer hunger and heat, after some phenomenally bad luck fishing in the river, that he had simply burst into tears when Ryuga’s small act of kindness had been followed by a demand to give up his mission and return home. God, Ryuga had frightened him to the core, but his actions and words had been so conflicting, cruelly dismissing his efforts while at the same time making sure nothing bad actually happened to him.
It had given him the confidence to go against his instincts and push Ryuga further. And Ryuga had given Kenta permission to challenge him, anytime, anywhere, until he managed to impress him.
The fact that Ryuga had allowed him that first step towards him in the first place is still a mystery to Kenta. Looking back, he had been such a burden to Ryuga, weak and helpless and probably pretty annoying, too. He is embarrassed just thinking about it. But it had been the reason why Kenta decided there must be more to Ryuga than what meets the eye. Something kind.
He blinks the memory away when he notices that Yu is waving the squid in front of his face, and Kenta can’t help but notice the generous coating of brown sauce, glaze thick and shiny and so tempting.
“Come on,” Yu beckons, “you probably haven’t eaten all day. I know you’re hungry, too.”
The thing is, Kenta is hungry, but the thought of eating twists his stomach in an entirely differently unpleasant way. He does not deserve to. What is a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things anyway? He has endured much more painful things and this does not even register on the scale. It’s not like he can’t handle it. He is stronger than that now.
“I don’t want it,” Kenta snaps.
Yu sighs like Kenta is a difficult toddler throwing an unreasonable tantrum. “Don’t be ridiculous. I bought it for you. What else am I supposed to do with it? I can’t eat four of these!”
Ignoring that yes, Yu damn well can, Kenta has seen him rival Gingka’s appetite, Kenta clenches his jaw in frustration at Yu’s willful ignorance. Maybe he has been too lenient, gave in too often today. Maybe this is his fault for allowing Yu to hijack the one day he always dedicates to Ryuga’s memory.
“Stop being like that,” Kenta says, glaring. “This is not the time to be fooling around and act like this is an ordinary day of us hanging out when it’s not. Ryuga died today! That’s why we are here… or at least, that’s why I am here. Not– Not to pet cats and eat street food and have fun! If that’s how you want to spend your day, that’s fine, but don’t pretend to care about going to the cemetery in that case. Just leave. No one’s forcing you to be here.”
Yu frowns and his eyes turn limpid and sad as he returns Kenta’s angry gaze with drawn-in shoulders, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He pulls his hands, still holding the ikayaki, close to his chest. Kenta feels unmoored when his warm, warm eyes meet his, and Yu takes a deep breath.
“Oh Kenchi,” he sighs, faltering as he seems to search for the right words. His throat bobs as he swallows heavily. “You– I never meant–” He breathes and closes his eyes while he tries to start anew. “You’ve been grieving Ryuga on your own for seven years which is… so unfair. I never thought that was fair. I thought you needed cheering up. I thought it might help if you weren't doing this alone. I thought… you would accept it if it was me.” He sighs again, the curl of his lips bittersweet, but his eyes still so warm. “You lost Ryuga more than anyone. You miss him. But… you don’t owe him anything. I know grief isn’t always rational, and it makes us do strange things, but god, Kenchi, it’s time to not let it seep into every aspect of your life. The dead don’t want our misery as tribute. I know we’re not kids anymore and it would probably be a terrible idea to return to what our life was like when we were eleven but. I want you to enjoy life again, because the alternative is to be miserable forever. I know petting cats and eating street food isn’t necessarily the pinnacle of enjoying life,” he snorts, “but I thought it’d be a start.”
There are so many things Kenta could reply with. He is not miserable. It would be a stretch to say his grief is affecting every aspect of his life. He doesn’t miss Ryuga much at all, because he didn’t actually know Ryuga, and isn’t that even more fucked up? Their relationship was so short and so complicated, so what exactly is he even grieving?
He thinks, grief isn’t always rational. He thinks, it makes us do strange things.
He thinks, the dead don’t want our misery as tribute.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Yu was a child genius. People always imagine some tortured poet, plagued by the enormity of their intellect and the insurmountable task of setting it on a worthy goal, like curing cancer or solving world hunger, when they hear the word genius. Yu’s bright personality, his easy smiles and easier love for the people in his life, are not reconcilable with that image. It often leads to people assuming that Yu is stupid, or at the very least slow.
Kenta is ashamed to admit that he had taken Yu’s actions at surface level and assumed he wasn’t taking Kenta’s feelings seriously.
“I’m sorry,” he croaks, “that was– I’m being so stupid. You didn’t deserve to hear that.” Kenta feels like crying suddenly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. You’re trying to keep me company and I–” He chokes, lost for words.
Yu steps right into his personal space and hugs him tight. Simple as that. For a moment, Kenta just lets him, before he finds the strength to lift his arms and reciprocate the hug, careful not to crush the flowers he is still holding in one hand while Yu is trying to keep the ikayaki away from him in turn.
“I’m sorry, too,” Yu says after a while. “I thought I was helping, but I think I pushed too hard too fast.”
“No.” Kenta steps back, shaking his head, and Yu allows it. “You're right. It's been seven years. There is nothing too fast about it. I guess… I don't know, I guess I just wasn't expecting it. I should know you better than that.”
Yu contemplates the sticks of ikayaki for a while before holding them out to Kenta again with a tentative smile; a peace offering. Kenta takes them.
The dead don't want our misery as tribute. It sounds so simple when put like that. Kenta feels kind of stupid. So, he is not allowed to eat because Ryuga will never be able to eat again? And he is supposed to feel guilty for that?
Kenta laughs softly at himself. He can be such an idiot sometimes.
“Thank you,” he tells Yu, and finally lets himself take a bite of the food.
– –
For such a painful day, Kenta has had a surprisingly nice time. Standing in front of Ryuga’s grave with a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and pale pink plum blossoms in his hands, remembering how soft the fur of that cat in the flower shop had been, how delicious the ikayaki had tasted on his tongue, how bright Yu’s smiles had been all day, he knows the guilt would have overcome him any other day before.
The whole city is celebrating this day as a victory and Kenta is supposed to be the exception, the only one who is able to see clearly through the elation and the relief and the muddying passing of time. There is a voice in his head berating him for every laugh and tiny smile he gave freely today, without the pain of Ryuga’s memory to hinder him. And there is another voice that keeps whispering, You don’t owe him anything.
It sounds like Yu, and that makes it so much easier to focus on this one and ignore that other voice that seems like it only wants him miserable. Good. Kenta has been listening to that voice way too much. He has been miserable for long enough.
He is starting to believe that that is not something that would make Ryuga any happier.
Ryuga is dead. He is dead, he has been dead. Of course, Kenta knows that. Why should he still be trying to please a man he barely knew, a man who is long gone and who doesn’t have any wants at all anymore?
“The dead don’t want our misery as tribute,” he murmurs, and the words feel like weights from his shoulders, leaving his body strangely light.
A hand finds his and squeezes warmly. “Are you taking my wisdom to heart?” Yu asks, a hint of teasing in his voice like he is unsure how welcome the sentiment would be.
Kenta snorts and bends down to put the flowers on the grave. When he turns to Yu, his smile is blithe. “You are pretty wise.”
“I should write a book,” Yu says and Kenta laughs. “Why not? I could give some helpful life advice, or survival tips, or something. There is a lot that people could learn from me.”
“Nobody is going to follow the life advice of a teenager.”
“You are following my life advice,” Yu points out. “What does that make you?”
Kenta grins and turns back to the grave. It’s so unremarkable. No one knew Ryuga’s last name or date of birth. There are no embellishments on the gravestone except for a tiny engraved dragon at the top right corner. Kenta knows the earth beneath it is empty. This place doesn’t actually hold anything of Ryuga’s, but he still derives satisfaction from decorating it with some color other than gray.
“Someone with even less common sense than you?” he asks wryly.
Yu shoots him an unamused look but it’s just an act, a smirk playing around his lips. “I’ll have you know I have a lot of common sense. More than average. Way more. But I guess that doesn’t make what you said untrue necessarily.”
“Also, you’re the only one here,” Kenta says, making a show out of looking around. “Not a lot of choice who I could go to for advice.”
“You’d ask me anyway, no matter who else was around,” Yu says confidently.
Kenta cannot even imagine himself bantering like this in front of Ryuga’s grave a year ago. He searches himself for a hint of guilt, of discomfort, anxiety, but there is none. His thoughts, usually such a swirling mess that it’s hard to untangle them into some form of coherence, finally seem to have calmed down. It’s Ryuga who should be at peace, but instead it feels like Kenta is the one who found it.
The image of Yu holding that yellow rose to his nose flashes through his mind again. Yu excitedly holding the cat in his lap. Beckoning Kenta with the sticks of ikayaki.
Yu quirks his lips in a grin, bright like the sun, as Kenta unwittingly smiles at him.
“You’re probably right.”
For the very first time, he finds he doesn’t dread the reunion later this evening, as long as Yu is there with him.