Chapter Text
Kaede reminded Maki of another girl she once knew.
Kaito is a lot like Kaede.
Kaito stands at her door day and night and it annoys Maki to no end. He's so stubborn. Optimistic. Naive. He talks to Maki like she's still a person, when she had severed the right to be one from her chest years ago.
Ding-do-ding-do-ding-do-ding-do-ding-dong!
She always thought that astronauts, those scientists reaching for the stars, had to be smart. But he doesn't know anything real. What kind of child caregiver would act like her, anyway? She sighs and covers her ears.
Knock! Knock! Knock!! Hey, Maki!
Kaede knew her as the Ultimate Child Caregiver. Her pushiness was annoying too. She kept asking questions about her talent, her past, and didn't comment on how long it took her to remember the kids at her orphanage. Even though she had that detective slinking around her, Kaede kept seeking her out.
"Then it has to be love! Your deep love is the reason why they like you so much!"
If only it were that simple. There were no fairy godmothers in their lives. Maki had no magic cure-all of potion for their troubles. They didn't live in a reality where assassins only killed those who deserved it.
A scarred part of her is glad it's over— that there is one other person in the world who remembered Maki as her orphanage's caregiver.
I saved you some dinner. It's just fish, but Kirumi made it, so you've gotta try it!
If Kaito had somehow died in her place, would Kaede be outside of her door? Would she bring her meals and speak to her kindly? If she told Kaede about her talent, would she still smile at her like Kaito did?
C’mon, it's getting cold. Cold fish doesn't taste that good, y’know?
When this reality she has been clinging to comes crashing down on her— and it will, Maki’s never been a good liar, she can only stall the inevitable— Kaito will leave. He has to. Fear and disgust have been the only reasonable responses to her. She knows nothing good comes from fantasizing about alternate worlds. When Maki finally came home to learn her best friend had died, she'd cried away all her remaining tears thinking of other ways she could have made everything right.
So if Maki lives (she will, she will), she'll have to return to her assassin work. Whether or not she wants to has never mattered. To leave, to even dream of doing so at this point, is selfish— she has people she needs to protect. To give up now would be to throw everything away.
Another memory bubbles up, and though it could not have been more than a few days ago, it feels like another lifetime:
"Selfish help is better than no help at all."
Actions over intentions.
When Maki kills, the families of the dead don't give a damn if it's to save her orphanage. When Maki helps fund new toys and repairs, the kids don't care about where the money comes from.
When Kaede made that offer, she acted as if it was nothing, like it was so simple. She didn't even deny that it was for selfish reasons.
It would've made the kids happy to hear a concert from such a brightly shining pianist. Maki never got the privilege of doing so— the closest she had was hesitantly pressing the keys of the orphanage’s rickety old piano, sometimes accompanied by her, until she got bored or an adult told her off.
But revitalizing them, stoking their childish hopes, might've led to a worse ending. Kaede had a face that made people want to follow her. For a moment, Maki herself was swept by the waves of Kaede’s dreams, but in the end, they were revealed to be just that.
She knows nothing good comes from fantasizing about alternate worlds.
But.
Maki also knows, even if she doesn't want to, that selfish help and selfish dreams are what kept her alive all those years. That Kaede passed her dreams down to everyone. That Kaito, unsubtle in his ego-stroking, needs his dreams too.
(Plus, away from the realms of philosophizing, she needs to eat to maintain her strength.)
With a sigh, she gets up to open the door.