Work Text:
"Mother,
Ei,
Beelzebub,"
Fujin stares at the paper as if it has personally offended him. Maybe it has indeed, because it ends up being crumpled in his hands and thrown away, joining the pile of the other innocent victims of letters; some half finished, some completely blank, and some that are seemingly done, yet have been abandoned because they were not quite right.
He doesn't even know why he's writing this.
Well, he does know why. Nahida encouraged him, saying it would be a good way to move on from the past. Something about healing.
But he shouldn't have to. His so called "mother" doesn't even remember him.
Fujin doesn't understand it at all. What's the point of writing to someone who doesn't know who he is? It would probably only leave the woman confused.
Maybe she wouldn't even see it at all.
How is this even supposed to help? Clearly, it's only making him even more anxious.
... Not that he would ever admit that. He's above such things, isn't he? Yes. He's not anxious. Why would he be anxious about something so trivial?
That's what Fujin says to himself as he pulls out another blank sheet of paper, sighing.
Begrudgingly, he starts writing, only to pause midway through. The ink flows down into a big puddle.
This is ridiculous. He's a Vahumana student. He's written many, many papers, topics far more complex than this, yet he can't even write one letter?
He forces his hand to keep moving. Even if he's sure Ei will never see this, it should still make atleast some sense, right?
"Raiden Ei,
I'm well aware you don't know me. For that exact reason, I'm unsure why I'm even writing this to you. What am I supposed to say? I cannot simply tell you about all the things you did to me; you don't remember any of it.
... Sometimes I wonder if you do. If you saw me wandering the streets of Inazuma, would I seem familiar?
Even if you do not remember, know this. I do not forgive you. Not yet. Maybe I never will."
The paper ends up torn up, casted away like all the others. Fujin stands up, even more frustrated than before.
How stupid. What was he thinking, writing something so personal?
He's gonna try again later.
Maybe.
Probably not.