blue skies

2: strength, trembling

The hardest part is starting over.

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2: strength, trembling

It’s almost a sick, cruel joke how alive Toshiki Kai is—healthy, uninjured, whole, with dignity, principles, and memory intact, among important others.

He stands in front of Sendou Aichi’s front door, about to face his biggest endeavor yet, one that left him not with excitement as in the thrill of a cardfight, but with near-crippling dread and a kind of fear he hadn’t known until now.

Today he is the bearer of bad news, and as he moves to ring the doorbell and sees his hand shake, he laughs at himself—dry and resigned.

Miwa watches from the front gate, where the motorbike is parked, and does not envy his position. Outwardly, Kai looks composed as he always does, but Miwa knows better.

From the way Kai had gripped his arm as Naoki impatiently explained how Aichi was already fighting within an inch of his life—“It was a miracle he hasn’t died!”—when Kai woke to Ren and Tatsunagi Takuto being carted off into ambulances, throngs of exhausted people (he belatedly realized they were Vanguard players), and Aichi himself being frantically administered artificial resuscitation—“His heart beat is slowing down! We can’t get his vitals to stabilize!”—while Souryuu Leon grimly looked on;

From the way color drained from Kai’s already pale face as he breathed, “I did this…” and never in Miwa’s life had he heard three words carry so much heaviness as he had never seen the man who uttered them look so small and lonely. Naoki had ‘tsk’-ed and yelled “You’re gonna be like that now?!” before storming off to help the paramedics; from the way Kai finally let go of Miwa’s arm, leaving cold, sweaty white lines in his skin did Miwa know this was not the time for Kai to be alone. Kai needed support, Kai needed…

“Kai,” Miwa had grabbed his shoulders and stared straight into teal green eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

“…Miwa…” Kai’s voice broke and Miwa had to look away. God, he hadn’t cried since he was five.

The door opens and Aichi’s mother invites Kai inside. He can only wish him luck.

“You’re Kai-kun, aren’t you?” she asks, settling themselves in their quaint sitting room. “Aichi always talks about you. How is he? Emi’s tried to explain it to me, how he’s fighting Void and people Reversed, but I don’t really understand it.”

Her hands clench and unclench in her skirts. “It’s been a week…” she adds quietly.

Kai’s throat constricts, not knowing how to start. Emi peeks in from the adjacent kitchen doorway and immediately frowns.

“Oh Emi, can you get tea?”

Without a word, she turns her heel and does as she is told, annoyance apparent. Kai is not surprised. All week, he’s gotten varying degrees of glaring and avoidance from friends. Misaki spends her afternoons in the shop; whether or not she visits Aichi, Kai hasn’t seen her to know. Naoki, on the other hand, is near protective of Aichi, barely disguising his slow-to-dissipate anger every time his visits end and sees Kai start his. Kamui and Shingo have joined the Singaporeans in Trauma Debriefing operations in New York (perhaps in an attempt to distract themselves, maybe). Even Miwa is less talkative than usual. If Kai could, he would avoid himself.

“He defeated Void,” Kai begins. “He…took it into himself...to contain it. And it’s my fault he had to…”

He feels rather stupid, talking and explaining things, unsure of whether or not Aichi’s mother understands the importance of what Aichi’s done, and he dearly wants her to. Kai unknowingly mirrors her, clenching and unclenching his own hands. The hands he looked upon with horror as he returned to his senses raw, perplexed, and disbelieving that he did what he did; his body fizzing and tingling from having Void freshly ripped from his soul; his mind replaying his memories like he was watching something familiar yet foreign—fights, sneers, laughs in his own voice, his own face. It’s all you, he hears. And it’s true.

“Kai-kun?”

Aichi’s mother is looking at him kindly. He ‘oof’s a bit in surprise when she takes his face in her hands and gives his cheeks a good-natured squish.

“Chin up, dear,” she says. “Aichi’s told me about you a lot more than you’d probably want to hear, so I can safely say that whatever you did isn’t your fault. Aichi wouldn’t want you to think that.”

It’s the same thing as Miwa said. This woman is incredibly kind, and he doesn’t want to hurt her. He utters the first of several thousand apologies he owes.

“Aichi’s…Aichi is in the hospital.”

Aichi’s mother stiffens, eyes going dark and wide, but otherwise stays silent, waiting for Kai to continue.

“Void. The fight with Void took a whole lot out of him. He was already very weak. Void was consuming his life, and when he had won, he had almost none left. He…”

It’s all very funny, how clear and straightforward Kai is stumbling over his words, how his heart is beating in his neck and how is voice is breaking. He is afraid of saying it. He doesn’t want them to know how Aichi forced Void to give back his life by sacrificing his own, lest he be deemed a life unworthy of saving. Kai wants to disprove his own fears, and until he does, even if it takes a lifetime of repentance, he’ll keep his mouth shut.

“The doctor says his health is at a critical low.” Breathing shallow. Constant pain. “They can’t find any known cause.” They don’t know that Void is still eating him alive and Aichi’s still fighting. “He wants to live, and he will. We just aren’t sure if he’ll come out of this whole. His senses are deteriorating.”

There is a dull thud of thick ceramic cups on rug-covered wood. Hot tea splashes against Emi’s legs and stains her socks, but she doesn’t notice. She stands frozen, glaring at Kai with increasing indignance, eyes brimming with tears.

“Emi—“ her mother starts.

“What do you mean?” she asks, voice low and trembling.

Kai feels his own irritation welling within him—at himself, at what’s happened, at Void, at why he’s still here, at Aichi’s mother still worrying about him. Kai probably looks close to breaking down himself.

“Emi, don’t be mad.” She hugs her daughter tight. “Your brother is still alive.”

Emi starts crying.

“At least your brother is still alive,” their mother repeats in a whisper, like a reassurance to herself.

Kai takes it as a cue to leave and rises to his feet, bemused at how weak his knees have gotten. He bows low and strides toward the door.

“Kai-kun!” Aichi’s mother calls, face flushed and a teary, relieved smile gracing her features. Kai wants it to stop. “Thank you!”

Kai bows once more, lower, and shuts the door behind him.

“You drive. Please,” he tells Miwa, hands cold and unsteady as he straps on his helmet. Miwa’s heart goes out to him, but he says nothing as he mounts the bike and starts the engine.

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