It was time to go.
He'd been here a long time. How long? He couldn't bring himself to count the years. The years he'd been in this office. The years he'd stared at that photo. The years he'd missed her.
It all came down to her, didn't it? Kana. She had been everything. She still was, honestly. No matter what the train of thought, everything always led straight back to her. In a way, he wished he could be rid of the memories, if only to be rid of the pain, but he knew he would never do it, even if he'd been able.
There were precious moments. One of his favourites was a box of chocolates hidden in a pile of papers. Or had it been a folder..? How memories fade. Another was a quiet embrace, or as close as they could manage, with her body leaning against his and her head resting gently on his lap. He could almost feel her warmth still, easing him through that cold winter's night. And of course, the snow melting, and spring returning. That was the most precious, the most bittersweet memory of them all.
He sighed audibly as he hefted his bag onto his shoulder and glanced out the doorway one last time. As his eyes searched through the traditionally styled garden, he recalled another young woman causing the spring to return again in an uncannily similar way. He curved his lips in a tiny smile. Tohru had given him a lot, that day. He owed her as much as he owed Momiji. Both of them had rescued him from bitterness. Tohru, though...
She was young. Very young. Of course, he could not love her like he loved Kana. Not quite. But still, there was something about her that made him feel truly alive in a way he had not felt since before a nervous approach to Akito's room one tragic morning. Kana gave him a life he had never known, and Tohru revived it.
More than anything, he'd have liked Tohru to be with him forever. It wasn't quite the same... though in a small way, it was. Mostly, he wanted to have her steadiness, her ready wisdom and her endless optimism and good cheer to keep him sane as he went through life. Of course, it would be far from acceptable to have a young woman such as Tohru living in close quarters with one as old as him, but he could still wish it. And he would continue to do so. She had given him that power.
Suddenly realising where his thoughts had wandered off to, he stopped himself with a rueful and very quiet chuckle. It seemed that ever since the day when she had turned the frozen snow into spring, his thoughts would inevitably turn to Tohru and Kana would be gone as quickly as she came.
So, that was it. She may not be absolutely everything to him, but Tohru meant a lot. Meaning, of course, that Kana couldn't possibly mean everything to him. Not any more. How very strange.
Feeling oddly liberated, he turned and made his way out of the room for the last time. He didn't look back.
The photo sat, briefly forgotten, on the desk.
