Author's Note: This chapter explores a part of Tokiya's history that the story has only previously touched upon in brief. Again, it's pretty dialogue-driven - less than the previous chapter, for sure, but definitely more than the first two. This was also difficult to write for me, because I wanted to stay faithful to the tension between these characters. But let's not spoil it, shall we? :) Enjoy.

Standard disclaimers still apply. Warning for some language.

Kapitel Vier (Chapter Four)
LATE TO SAVE

Sometimes I look back on the part of my life where I believed I was in love with Yanagi for a reason other than her resemblance to my sister, and I think myself a fool. Of course, there is no question that Hanabishi too was a fool, but in his own special way: his idiocy was the endearing kind, the sort of blithe and gentle naïveté one would expect of someone who had seen none of the cruelty of the world, none of the harsh realities of life.

I, on the other hand, had every reason to be wiser than Hanabishi, having known loss and despair so early in life. And yet, I was still a fool - one of the highest order, the kind that thinks the world is tame beneath his feet and does not realize that he is, in fact, treading on quicksand. I knew Yanagi saw me as a protector, a friend – at most, a brother. That was all. I could never have the love she so easily gave to Hanabishi. Still, it was not enough for me to want her to be safe, or want her to be happy – so silly of me: I wanted her to be mine.

That, I think, was my mistake. I watched her, and inside me, I burned, more hotly than any flame of Hanabishi's ever could. I watched her when her smiles were bright, and her laughter, resonant, and it was always with him. Always Hanabishi. Always someone else.

He and I were both fools; that much I know, but over the past few years I have slowly unraveled the secret to it, the final difference. He was a fool for loving her so quickly, so fully, so carelessly. As for me, I used to think I was a fool for loving her selfishly. The truth is, I was a fool for loving her at all.

&

It occurs to me that I must be out of my mind.

Well – to some people, this may be classified as doing the right thing, but I've lived less than cleanly for more than a decade, so my discomfort should be excusable. It is unimaginable, after all: I am standing in a yard that belongs to a person I have never been particularly comfortable with. I am thus bracing myself for the worst.

My leather-shod feet are framed by the welcome mat; my left hand is wrapped around the neck of a bottle of scotch; all that is left now is for my other hand to just please get it over with and knock on the damn door already.

Here goes nothing, I sigh to myself.

A few raps. After five glorious seconds of silence, it occurs to me that nobody might be home, so I turn to walk away, but then I hear the locks inside crack open, and soon Hanabishi is staring at me from the small space in the doorway with only his door's security chain and a five-feet distance between us.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here," he tells me. Oh, you have no idea how much nerve it took.

"I have scotch," I say, trying to sound neutral. "It's a peace offering."

He slams the door closed, and for a shocked and aghast moment or two I feel like kicking it open, hoping it hits him in the face, but I hear the sound of sliding metal. He opens the door again, wider this time; the security chain is gone.

He steps back. "Thanks," I mutter, and unceremoniously thrust the bottle at him. He takes it as I enter.

The inside of the house is small, but it's very clean and well-kept. Either the Hanabishis are a fastidious couple, or they have a housekeeper. Knowing Recca, I have serious doubts about the former.

Then again, Yanagi always had excellent taste, so it's not impossible that she may have rubbed off on Hanabishi. The interiors are bright but not garish: white and pale yellow stripes for wallpaper, blond wood, beige upholstery, very classy.

Hanabishi is eyeing me as he closes the front door. "If you're going to say something snide – "

"I wasn't," I interrupt. "I like it." Since when was Hanabishi Recca the cynic male-bitch?

He looks at me as if I'm not from this planet and runs a hand through his hair. "Uh. Take a seat."

"Thank you."

I settle down on the leather armchair, and he goes behind a linoleum counter and into their small kitchen. Yanagi was collapsed on the kitchen floor with a sponge in her hands and a soapy pot at her side.

I shiver.

"There isn't much I can offer," he says gruffly. "I have beer and orange juice in the fridge."

"You know, I hear that scotch is pretty damn good."

He shrugs. "Yeah, okay."

I watch him set out two glasses and fill them with cubes of ice. He pours scotch over both, and brings them over. I take one from him. He sinks into the seat opposite me.

"I know you're a guest and all, but I'll be forward, Mikagami." He swills his glass around, and the ice clinks softly. "What the fuck are you doing here, really?"

I have never met this version of Hanabishi; this one is – how shall I say it – wearier than the one I knew. "I wanted to make it up to Yanagi." I pause to down the liquor. It's very smooth. "Hence, the peace offering."

"Bullshit," he says, before knocking back half of his scotch. He leans forward, his elbows on his thighs, his fingers wrapped around the glass. "You were gone thirteen years; you wanted nothing to do with us, and you actually expect you can waltz back into this town as if nothing's changed?"

"I was expecting nothing of the sort." I rub the rim of the glass with my thumb. "If anything, I was bracing myself for an angry mob."

He frowns.

"Look, I'm not expecting any kindness from you. I just wanted to do this for Yanagi's sake." There's a hitch in my voice that I don't want him to hear, so I pause. "You're not the only one who loved her, Hanabishi."

He looks at me, and his face is intense. "You think you loved her, Mikagami? You think you loved her?" He laughs, mirthlessly, a short laugh, but it sends a chill down my arms. "You didn't make the sacrifices I did. You didn't feel what I did. You didn't protect her. You didn't see her on that floor; you didn't bring her to the hospital– you weren't even here!"

"I had my reasons, Hanabishi," I tell him quietly. I wish I knew what they were, is the part that's missing.

"That isn't it. You could have called. You could have written. You could have given us just one hint that you were still alive. But no, nothing, you arrogant son of a bitch. If you had loved her, you would have known just how much it broke her heart, when she heard that you'd left."

I refuse to indulge him and acknowledge that he is right. The guilt I have to carry around is shameful enough.

"I watched her cry herself to sleep, Mikagami. For weeks. And if it did that to her, you can't imagine how Fuuko was."

"It wasn't as simple as that. We'd all drifted then."

"You were our friend."

Something like a guitar string snaps apart in my stomach, and the ache echoes in me like a dead note filling the air. It shocks me that his words hurt as deeply as this. "It didn't matter where you were, Mikagami. We would have wanted to know you were alright – Yanagi and Fuuko more than anyone."

I open my mouth, trying to cough up the words, but they aren't coming. When did Hanabishi Recca learn to make so much sense?

"You're wrong," is all I can manage. I sound like a twelve-year-old. "I loved her."

By now, I think, Hanabishi has realized that I am confounded by his correctness. He meets my eyes and in a hushed, pained voice, says, "Then you shouldn't have left."

"I had to."

"You could have saved her. You could have done something. " He sets the empty glass down on the coffee table, and gazes out the window. "But she's gone now."

The silence hangs between us, and the look on Hanabishi's face is dark as a priest hearing a dying man's final confession. There is so much I must atone for, an entire array of sins I must seek penance for. Lord, have mercy.

"I'm sorry," I say, and he turns, his eyes wide with sadness and disbelief.

"What?"

I look down at my hands, which are pale and shaking. "I said, I'm sorry."

He continues to stare at me, incredulous. Still not looking at him, I mutter, "I wish I… I wish I could have… saved her." My fingers are trembling, and I clasp my hands together so Hanabishi won't see. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. "There are a lot of things I'm not proud of, Hanabishi. There are a lot of things I regret, and looking back, I would give up all those small pleasures of mine if it meant I could bring her back – bring everything back to the way they were, before life caught up with us."

Hanabishi's expression has softened: the look on his face is more – forgiving, I would say, but I doubt it. Less forbidding, maybe. I crack my knuckles, and the sound is sharp and alive in the taut stillness.

"I really did love her." I press my lips together, and finally, lock gazes with him. "I still do. Just not in the way… that I used to."

He knows everything and nothing. I know only that I am at fault, and I've known for a long time.

"It's too late to do anything for her now," Hanabishi breathes.

"I know." I swallow. "And I'm sorry."

He doesn't say anything, but he gets up and takes the glasses from the coffee table. He goes into the kitchen, and as I put my head in my hands, I hear him rinsing them in the sink. He was the one she chose, the one she deserved, the one who could love and protect her better than I ever could.

A few moments later, he stands uncertainly at the linoleum counter. "I have dinner with her parents in a few hours."

"I guess I should go, then." I rise from my seat and wordlessly follow him to the front door, which he unlocks for me. We share a very formal nod, and then I turn to leave.

"Mikagami." His tone is kind. Sad, almost. "You fix broken hearts for a living."

"Yeah." This is not a question, but there is nothing I can say.

He looks at something in the distance for a second, and then says to me, "It's too late for Yanagi, but there's someone out there who needs to heal."

We both know he's talking about Fuuko. I shake my head. "I was the disease."

He smiles, once, and it's the kind of smile you give a child who's given you a very foolish answer. "If you ask me, you've always been the cure."

Hanabishi shuts the door. I turn and walk out of the yard, and as I step out into the sidewalk, I stand there, watching the people pass by. There are children riding bikes, a girl and her dog, an elderly couple eating ice cream. The woman laughs, and suddenly she is radiant. You fix broken hearts for a living.

I cross the street. The cool breeze hits me like an epiphany, and I breathe in, knowing that somewhere, somewhere, in this city, there is a heart that needs saving.

I thought Recca and Tokiya needed closure, too; hence, this chapter. As my plans for this fic go, the next one is the last chapter, so do stay tuned for that! In the meantime, I'd love to hear what you thought of this. :) I'll see you in the last one, and thank you for reading!