Yours Truly (letter)

A Weiss Kreuz fanfic

By Natalie Baan
(released 06/04/06)

 

/Ken-kun, how have you been doing? Are you enjoying the coaching job? It must really be a lot of fun for you./

/Well, I finally managed to track down Youji-kun, now that he has a new apartment. I still don't know what he's doing with himself. But Youji-kun is Youji-kun, so I guess it's not too hard to imagine something./

/Did I tell you that Aya-kun is doing construction work, out on the coast? It seems so...not like him. I know he's strong, but somehow I always think he should be working in a library or--I know this sounds crazy--doing ikebana. Even if he said that he hated it that one time. But I guess construction pays well, so he can take care of Aya-chan properly, and you don't need any kind of degree or certification for it. I just find it hard to picture Aya-kun in a place like that, day after day. It's weird, isn't it?/

/Anyway, I've been writing to everyone, trying to keep in touch./

/Of course, nobody ever writes back to me./

Omi paused, pen hovering above the paper, the last words not yet written. The weight of them seemed to want to push his hand down--a sudden, cold heaviness like steel, an ache in the back of his throat, like the hollow, ringing note of a weapon being drawn, marking the edge of something that you'd better not get into, not if you weren't ready for whatever might happen next. He glanced up, his gaze flickering across the empty playing fields, the face of the high school's main building beyond them. A few students running, far away. A little group eating lunch together on the hillside. That was all.

Leaning his head back on the tree behind him, he closed his eyes and made his shoulders relax. Not for the first time, he wondered why he'd decided to write this letter not on his laptop, as he'd done for all the rest, but with pen and paper, using one of his larger textbooks as a lap desk. It was so much easier to compose on the screen, where thoughts could be polished and revised, where a mistaken word could be edited out with no one the wiser.

Where you didn't have to worry that you might say too much, and not be able to take it back.

With a little sigh, Omi drew his knees up and bent over the paper again.

/Every day I read the news. People are still committing terrible crimes--that hasn't changed. The only difference is that now it supposedly has nothing to do with us anymore. But I keep thinking, "I could do something about that. I could make those people stop. Deny them their tomorrows, and make them pay the price of all the suffering they've caused." But without an order from Kritiker, I can't do anything. I hate feeling so powerless..../

/Did it really make such a difference? That our orders came from Persia? Because it was someone else who made the decision, did that make it all right for us to kill the people who did evil?/
/Is that the only difference between any one of us and a "murderer"?/

/Ken-kun, do you feel the same way sometimes? As if you're waiting for a mission that doesn't come? Or are you happy now, living a normal life? I guess after all I shouldn't write about such things. All of that belongs to another time, to a world we've left behind. The future is what's important, right?/

/Only..../

Bright images broke his concentration, flashing across the mind's eye, each as perfect and remote as a snapshot, and as arresting: black butterfly wings against a blue sky--rain and the glare of headlights, the ache of wondering /why/--and then slow dawn over a landscape of twisted metal and debris, Ken a breathing weight lying across his lap, and the pure relief of it, another day, another day to live--

And Ken, standing in the door of the Koneko no Sumu Ie, looking out into the morning sun, his voice sounding strangely light above the gushing of the hose as he said: /Hey, fellow kittens..../

/So, do you think I'll ever be able to love?/

/Ken-kun, I know that you'll love somebody someday. Absolutely, you will!/

/Absolutely!/

/Don't even doubt it!/

/But..../

/Will I be able to see that love? Or will you want to forget about me? Because of everything we went through together, would I remind you of that place where you couldn't be happy? That place where a person like you never belonged?/

/Ken-kun, I know that I'm selfish./

/But please...don't leave me behind./

With a faint sigh, Omi unclenched his fingers and set the pen aside. Quickly and precisely he folded the unsigned note into thirds, creasing each flap down with a sweep of his thumb. He picked the paper up, hesitated, and then, scarcely knowing why, touched it to his lips for a lingering moment before tucking it into his school bag. Pulling out a fresh sheet, he picked up the pen once more.

/Ken-kun, how have you been doing?/

 


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