Author's Note: Whoo, my first KusaHitsu oneshot. It's really short, and it was actually very hard to write...
As usual, I cleaned out my desk.
You had already been dead for many years. I'm sorry, but I've already lost count. I still visit your grave during my leisure time, I still make offerings, I still pray to the kami to keep your spirit safe, I still hope and wonder every day where you are right now and if you're happy in your reincarnated life.
There is nothing special about me clearing out my desk. I do it systematically and regularly, once a week at the least. I can't stand it if the inside of my desk is cluttered. I guess that was how you and I were different. You complained a lot that I was too uptight, and I admonished you often for being too laid-back.
You would always say to me, "Toshiro, why don't you just relax for now? You know, you won't be able to enjoy your life so much after you become a taichou."
"I've told you a hundred times to call me by my family name," I'd answer with a contemptuous huff of breath, "And I never said I wanted to be a taichou. I don't care about becoming an officer. I just want to protect Hinamori and my obaa-san."
"Hinamori-san is a seated officer in the captain-class," you contradicted with that laugh of yours, that warm laugh that still lingers in my dreams, "You're in no position to protect her until you've outranked her or reached her level."
"Says you," I would always retort. "Don't lecture me, Kusaka."
And then you smiled at me, just like you always did. It was your special smile, the smile you saved just for me, and only me, the smile everyone else rarely saw because they were convinced that both of us were just insensitive, callous husks of ice with no capability of loving. But they were wrong, we were human beings. We could love just as much as everyone else could; it was just that we were a little more cautious about showing it. I know that I loved you very much. I assume that you loved me too.
You were my world.
Whenever you'd smile, I'd feel like you and I were the only ones in the whole universe. No one else mattered to me, nothing else was important, we were great and the world was small.
"I have an idea," you told me that day, "If you ever become a taichou, I'll be your fukutaichou, and if I ever become a taichou, then you can be my fukutaichou. How does that sound to you, Toshiro? That way, we'll never be apart from each other."
This sounded strange to me, yet, oddly reassuring. I liked the thought of the two of us having a career together. A taichou and a fukutaichou always worked very closely. It seemed like the perfect option for the rest of our lives.
"Alright," I answered to you, stubborn and cocky, like I always was and still am, "Then I'm going to be the taichou, and you have to be the fukutaichou. I don't feel like following your orders."
"Oh? Is that so?" you asked me with interest in your voice, "Then work harder, Toshiro! You are ranked number one in our class right now, but I will have to work hard to reach the captain-class, too. I might surpass you. So if you want to be the taichou, you'll have to give it your all, understand? And do you know what that means?"
I admitted I wasn't sure what you were talking about.
"It means that now, I'm not just your boyfriend," you said, "I'm your rival now, too. So let's make a promise now, okay?"
And so we promised each other that we would do our best to ascend to the captain-class so we could be together as a taichou and a fukutaichou like we wanted.
I kept my end of the promise. I became the taichou of the tenth division.
But you didn't.
You left me before you could fulfill the oath we had made to each other.
It's not your fault, though. I never thought about you like that and I never will. The only person I blame, and still do, for your death is me.
Everyone says you died for me, but I know better. That's just a nicer way of saying that you died because of me.
And I still haven't forgiven myself for it.
Anyways, back to the incident of when I was cleaning out my desk.
I was going through my drawers, opening them and closing them, throwing away old brushes and pens, stacking and organizing documents, things like that.
I noticed that there was a drawer I hadn't touched in a while. I'm not sure why I had neglected to sort it out until then. I shrugged it off, opened the drawer, and removed a large stack of papers. They were coated in dust, and I brushed my hand across their surfaces to rid them of the grey debris.
I sorted through each sheet, noting that these documents were years and years old.
That was when I found it.
As I had been flipping through the papers, a small and plain envelope fell from its position, probably stuck between two sheets, and landed in my lap. Curious, I set the stack of old paperwork aside and picked up the envelope, turning it in my hands.
There was no writing on the front or back. It was tightly sealed, but I didn't have much trouble opening it.
It didn't contain much.
Only one single letter.
I had no idea at the time that this one single letter would change so many things.
As I removed the small piece of paper and unfolded it, I discovered that there wasn't much to read. Five simple words and your messy signature at the bottom. Apparently you had snuck this note into my desk years ago before you had died, and I hadn't found or received it until now.
So I did the only thing natural to me to do. I read it.
As I said before, there were only five words, and your signature. But those five words to convey your message and your signature to prove your sincerity turned everything inside-out and upside-down.
The letter read,
Toshiro, will you marry me?
And it was signed, Kusaka Sojiro.
I guess I received your letter to me late.
About fifty years late, to be exact.
After I had found it and read it, I couldn't believe what I had missed out on, what I had lost because of my own selfishness: you.
I had Matsumoto take it away and burn it.
It hurts too much to keep it.
But it's still a long way for me to go before I forget you.