The ride back to the dorm unfolded as a passage through a distinct form of silence. It was neither the tense quiet that accompanies the beginning of a mission nor the grim hush that follows a retreat.
This was the profound, dense silence of a world transformed anew. The interior of the van exuded an atmosphere reminiscent of a confessional, imbued with unvoiced truths and the lingering presence of broken normalcy.
My father occupied the space between Mitsuru and myself, a man distilled to his fundamental elements. He gazed intently at his hands, which were firmly clasped in his lap, as though he were observing them for the very first time.
The tremors that coursed through his body were unrelated to the movement of the van. He was a scientist, a man deeply rooted in logic and data, and the entire framework of his reality had just been completely dismantled right before his eyes. At the hands of his own son.
I observed him, a deep, hollow ache expanding within my chest. The once cold and commanding certainty that I had so confidently wielded in the flat had completely vanished. What replaced it was the guilt of a son, intense and biting. I had pulled him into the depths of my nightmare.
Mitsuru, always insightful, gently placed a hand over my father's trembling hands. Her touch was both gentle and firm. A wire that serves the purpose of grounding.
"Mr. Tanaka," she started, her voice soft yet strikingly steady, like a lifeboat amidst the turbulent waves of his disbelief. "I understand that this is… an incredibly deep shock." Your observations challenge the limits of traditional comprehension. However, you are now in a place of safety. That is the only thing that matters."
He failed to raise his gaze. "Safe," he reiterated, the term resonating emptily in the air. "My son, he... the ceiling..."
"Kaito took action to safeguard you," she remarked, her eyes briefly meeting mine, a momentary spark of steadfast pride shining through before she turned her attention back to him. "The power that he possesses is truly one of a kind. For a considerable period, he has shouldered this burden all by himself. "We," she indicated with a slight motion towards the others in the van, "are among the few who stand by his side."
At long last, my father raised his head, and his eyes, mirroring my own, began to explore Mitsuru's expression. "The Kirijo Group," he murmured, a sense of growing dread creeping into his voice. "This... this is the very thing he was focused on. What I… what I endeavoured to protect Kaito from."
After years of being scattered, the puzzle pieces slowly started to fit together, revealing a chilling image that sent shivers down the spine. The work my father engaged in was shrouded in secrecy, and it seemed to weigh heavily on him.
His demeanour was often marked by a palpable sense of guilt, and there was an underlying fear that lingered in the air.
All of these elements were intertwined, creating a complex web of emotions and hidden truths. He had not merely occupied the role of an employee. He found himself on the outskirts of the disaster that gave rise to the Dark Hour.
"Were you aware of this?" I enquired, my voice gravelly.
"No... not in this way," he faltered, his fingers combing through his tousled hair. "During my time, I held the position of a junior researcher...
the department, feeling somewhat isolated from the rest, told us that our focus was theoretical cognitive science. However, unsettling rumours were circulating about incidents that were discussed in hushed conversations. Time is rapidly passing. Fear began to creep in...
I decided to ask for a transfer, immersing myself in tasks that felt insignificant. I believed that if I kept my head down and distanced you from everything that was happening there, it would protect you."
He turned to me, his face reflecting profound despair.
"My intention... was to keep you safe."
The irony struck me like a physical blow, leaving me momentarily stunned and grappling with the weight of its unexpectedness.
In his effort to protect me, he inadvertently left me completely isolated and unready to face the reality of the situation. However, I found that there was no trace of anger within me.
A profound and expansive sense of comprehension that resonates deeply within. We were both ensnared by the same legacy, bound together as captives of the same hidden truths.
"You acted in accordance with your beliefs," I said softly. "However, the past possesses a unique ability to seek us out."
We reached the dormitory. The environment that I recognised so well seemed to embody a duality, serving as both a refuge and a prison at the same time.
Yukari, possessing a natural kindness that masked her own frayed nerves, gently led my father to a guest room. She spoke to him in soft, comforting tones, encouraging him to take some time to rest.
Without hesitation, Junpei and Akihiko set to work on securing the perimeter. Their actions were precise and carried out with a level of professionalism that spoke to their experience and training.
The danger was certainly not behind us yet.
As Makoto walked by, he gave me a simple nod, a quiet recognition of the weight that had just become so much more overwhelming.
This meant that Mitsuru and I were now the only ones remaining in the common room, sharing the space together in solitude. The rush of adrenaline had subsided, giving way to a profound and lingering sense of fatigue that settled in deeply.
The exhilaration that once accompanied my sense of control, the excitement of possessing such complete power, had faded away. At this moment, I truly sensed the immense burden of it all, along with the overwhelming responsibility that came with my father's broken existence.
I settled down onto the sofa, letting my body relax as I buried my face in my hands, seeking solace in that moment of stillness. The sight of his face, filled with terror and wonder, became etched in my memory, a vivid reminder that I could never forget.
"I shattered him," I whispered softly into my hands.
The couch sank slightly next to me. Before her hand settled gently on my back, I sensed her presence surrounding me, a comforting and consistent warmth that enveloped my being.
"You saved him, Kaito," she clarified, her tone resolute.
"What shattered was his belief in a secure and mundane reality. The illusion was delicate, a fleeting creation that was destined to break apart in due time."
"At this moment, he has come to understand the reality that has been revealed to him. He understands the power of the son who stands as a barrier between him and the encroaching darkness."
I raised my head to gaze at her. Bathed in the gentle glow of the lamp, her features took on a tender quality, as the once-defined lines of the commander faded away, revealing the youthful essence of the woman within. Her crimson eyes reflected a deep sense of understanding, devoid of any judgement, radiating a steady and unwavering empathy.
"He gazed at me as if I were a creature of nightmares," I admitted, the dread I had managed to suppress finally breaking free.
"He gazed at you with the eyes of a father witnessing his son transition into manhood, a journey unfolding more swiftly and in ways he had never envisioned," she remarked.
"There is a difference that can be observed. Allow him the necessary time he needs. The fear will gradually diminish over time."
Her words served as a soothing balm, providing comfort and relief in a way that was both gentle and profound. She possessed a unique ability to reshape her perspective on the world, uncovering the essence of resilience even in instances that seemed like failures at first glance.
In her gaze, I was neither an outcast nor a tool of destruction. I found myself as Kaito, traversing a path that seemed utterly insurmountable.
"In that moment when Takaya was present… when the ceiling came crashing down…" I started off, finding it difficult to express the emotion I was experiencing. "Things have changed from how they used to be." It was not a challenge at all. It was simply a choice that had to be made. The energy… it seemed as though it was at last paying attention. Not as something distinct, but rather as… an expression of my own voice."
A gentle, enchanting smile spread across her lips, illuminating her face with a warmth that seemed to capture the essence of beauty itself. "The reason is simply that it is."
"You have ceased your loud cries directed at the storm and have instead discovered the art of softly communicating with the gentle breeze. You have reached a state of harmonious coexistence."
She moved in a bit closer, her voice softening to a gentle whisper that felt personal and intimate. "I have never encountered anything quite so… magnificent."
The word lingered in the space that separated us, creating a palpable tension that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Magnificent. Not fear. Not dangerous, but Magnificent.
At that particular moment, a subtle yet significant change occurred. The collaboration between professionals, the unwavering loyalty they held for one another, and the collective weight they carried together—it all came together to form something that was not only warmer but also richer and profoundly more open to vulnerability. The distance that once separated us on the couch disappeared, not due to any physical shift, but rather because of an unexpected, powerful attraction that drew us closer together.
Her hand glided from my back to my cheek, the softness of her touch almost beyond belief.
For a brief, breathless moment, her eyes fell to my lips, a jolt of anticipation coursing through me, before they found their way back to my own, a wordless inquiry lingering in the rich, red pools of her gaze.
My breath was momentarily taken away. In that moment, every thought that crossed my mind, every fear that lingered, and every ounce of exhaustion I felt was completely washed away by the power of that one, quiet glance.
In that moment, the entire world seemed to shrink down to just the space that lay between us.
I could feel the gentle warmth of her hand resting on my face, and the delicate fragrance of her perfume lingered in the air—notes of bergamot intertwined with a hint of frost, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and enchanting.
I responded to her in silence, gradually leaning closer, allowing her ample chance to step back if she wished.
She did not.
The gap was bridged. Her lips pressed gently against mine, their softness accompanied by an unexpected warmth that enveloped me. The kiss did not stem from a place of desperation or fervour, fuelled by adrenaline and fear.
It was a commitment made, a vow that held significance. A seal. A recognition of a connection that had been created in darkness and was now being validated in the gentle illumination of the early morning. It was soft and cautious, carrying a significance that surpassed any elaborate proclamation one could imagine.
As we said our goodbyes, the world surged forward once more, yet it felt transformed, as if it had taken on a new shape and essence.
A better one.
The burden remained, the threats were still present, yet I no longer bore it by myself.
She is my saviour.
She leaned her forehead against mine, her eyes shut, a soft pink hue touching her light cheeks. "We will overcome this," she murmured, her breath a soft touch against my skin. "Everything, together."
From down the hall, we could hear the soft, comforting sounds of our friends—Junpei's laughter, the gentle clink of dishes as Yukari prepared tea, Akihiko's deep voice. My father was at peace, resting beneath a sturdy shelter. The woman I cherished was held close to me.
For the first time since the green tint had crept into my life, I felt a feeling of completeness.
The broken parts of my life felt jagged, and the road ahead seemed gloomier than before, but in that still room, with those who had turned into my family, I found the courage to hope that the story of my life, despite its sorrowful notes, could still hold a lovely melody.