/A:N/ A compliance of a request made by Shiranai Atsune.
Writing prompt: I took from the first block of prompts, where Nagisa and his mother have a falling out. I simply decided to seclude it to the falling out, rather than the aftermath, as I thought I could better relay the actual discussion in a better and more enjoyable manner.
Nagisa sat at a unfashionable dining table, staring down at his plate of rice, mixed vegetables, and thinly sliced meats. The food was of his own creation, but the torrents of consideration which flooded his mind were not.
He wished he could be more like his red haired friend. He wished he could anticipate what was to come more naturally, to foresee and to predict and to understand what he knew or thought would happen, but that was a gift he was not born with. This hadn't come easily, it had been forced.
Isogi gave him words of comfort and advice, but how was one to advise without any experience of the situation themselves? Isogi knew of hardship, but other than that the situations were far more diverse. Far too much so for Isogi to give him helpful words with absolute certainty that it would work.
Rio had voted strongly for his direct action, and gave him pointers in self assertion and confidence. Kaede hadn't agree-unable to comprehend why he would willingly do this-but assured that, no matter his choice, she would stand beside him.
They had all promised to stand beside him.
With Korosensei now gone, killed by Nagisa's own two hands and at the restraint of his once fellow assassin trainees, now genuine assassins, Nagisa had sworn to make things better between he and his mother.
It was a promise upon which he could not deliver.
His father had promised him the same thing. It fell apart after two months, and things had become far more tense, far more toxic than ever before, and Nagisa could stand for no more of it. Tonight was the night.
His mother sat across from him, picking away at Nagisa's excuse of a meal. It was far less tasteful than anything his mother had ever cooked, and they both knew it.
His mother had tsked upon first seeing the meal and the setting of the table, and her dissatisfaction had yet to waver, a stark contrast to Nagisa's fleeting confidence.
Finally, Nagisa spoke, "Mom?" Nagisa asked, flinching as his mother looked up at him sharply and with clear annoyance.
"What is it?" She asked harshly. He had picked the wrong mood for this...but there was no backing down now. He had already packed, his belongings all neatly set away and hidden at Karma's house, where he intended on staying for the foreseeable future. All he needed was her signature.
Heart pounding so loudly that it nearly deafened the feminine boy, Nagisa lifted up a thin stack of papers from his lap, lying them before his mother. She looked at them, her expressions muted inconvenience twisting into that of a receiver of a terrible surprise. Rounded eyes glue themselves to the papers, mouth falling agape as she realized what it was that she had been presented with.
"Wha-What is this?!" She asked in a whisper, as if any other volume might destroy the foundations on which her unbalanced mind latched itself onto, teetering her into a pit of black serpents slithering upon themselves, each one a catalyst of dysphoria and psychosis.
"They're file, mom." Nagisa responded. Lacing his finger together before him, trying to stifle the tremble of his hands. "With them, you will voluntarily relinquish your parental rights over me. Please." He added, his voice the Reflection of calm waters, but his mind flowed as rapids. "Dad's already signed. I just need yours, and then I'll be out of your hair."
Her body, hunched over the papers and muscles taut, snapped upwards, her chair falling to the ground from the force of her standing. She began to yell, her shrieking just barely louder than the ringing it induced. Nagisa couldn't be deterred, he couldn't back down. He had already gone so far...no turning back now. He had to do this.
"DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LICKY YOU ARE?! OF COURSE NOT! I'M THE ONE BRINGING IN THE MONEY, I'M THE ONE SHOVELING FOOD INTO YOUR FILTHY MOUTH! I'M THE ONE CLOTHING YOUR UNGRATEFUL BODY! YOU'D BE DEAD WITHOUT ME!" She screamed, "YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL, BUT NO! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO HAVE A MOTHER LIKE ME TO PICK UP AFTER YOUR FAILING ASS?! WHAT DO YOU DO? NOTHING! I DO EVERYTHING! WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE, I DID NOTHING BUT STUDY! YOU UNGRATEFUL, SELFISH, HELL-SPAWN OF A CHILD!"
Nagisa waited until she had finished, his eyes only now leaving the table top, "I am not a vector for you." He stated, eyes as cold as his words, icy daggers through which he penetrated the depths of her screaming. "You can't make me your daughter, and you can't make yourself reincarnate into me. I am me, Nagisa, and I am leaving with or without your signing. I haven't turned the papers in yet, mom, Dad can still claim me. I'm old enough now to testify against you and choose which parent to stay with. You either sign the papers, and I'll go out alone, or don't sign the papers, and I will go to a legal hearing. Your choice."
His mother was silent for a moment, before beginning to chuckle, the sound like the small bubbles that roused from a heated put just before it would explode into a steaming boil. She climbed in volumes, her voice a horrendous laughter, the sound a mockery to his argument.
Nagisa pressed further. "Make your choice, mother, or I'll just leave right-" she snatched the papers up into her hands, clenching them so tightly that they bent and crinkled. They tore in her grip, ripping in half before she threw the halves at her son, letting them rain down like lost leaves as they departed from a shedding tree. She continued to laugh that same high, ear-shattering laugh, eyes wide as they shimmered with excess, trails streaking from her face.
"Okay, then." Nagisa breathed, standing up from the table and making to leave. He paused, grasping the door frame as if it were the last remnant of a landline now lost to deterioration. "Goodbye, for now." He bid, before leaving the building. That had been just a copy, the creation of a printer and the replication of the actual document.