AN: FFnet does not support strikethrough as a formatting option. We settled for using [brackets] to represent strikethrough, but we recommend reading this chapter in AO3 (you can find the link in my profile) so you can see the formatting as we originally want it to be.

"Okay, what's wrong?"

"Huh?" Yukio looked up at his father who had grabbed his shoulder. Rin had already left the dorm, taking breakfast packed up in a couple containers to Ryuuji's dorm. Yukio, on the other hand, was less energetic. Ever since the previous night, the younger Okumura had been quite silent and docile. He hadn't even badgered Rin about homework.

"What are you talking about, Dad?" Yukio's gaze dropped.

"Aha! There! That's what I'm talking about!" Shiro stood in front of Yukio and bent his head down. "Since when have you called me 'Dad'?" He check his watch. "You're also six minutes behind schedule! You're never late!"

"Then all the more reason I should hurry." Yukio sidestepped his father and moved to walk past him but Shiro's hands grabbed his shoulders and swung him back around, causing the teen to stumble against his father's side.

"Ah, ah, ah~ I'm writing you a note right now. We're talking. It's father-son time." Shiro steered Yukio down the hall.

"Father, wait, I can't skip school if I'm not even sick," he protested.

"You're just going to skip the first period, maybe second. Don't worry, you'll have a note." Shiro texted someone quickly on his phone before tucking it away in his pocket. They walked into Yukio's room and the door shut behind them.

"Alright." Shiro sat Yukio down on the bed, pulled up the desk chair, and sat in front of him. "Spill. What's going on?"

Yukio stared at his father, slightly exasperated, but he felt the words bubbling up from his chest and right at his throat that it took more effort to swallow them down than to simply open his mouth and let them out. He closed his mouth and continued looking at the man in front of him, the man he'd come to admire as more than just his father… The man who was so patiently waiting for him to speak.

He opened his mouth.

"Last night, I went to go speak to Ren-kun," Yukio murmured. Shiro immediately sighed knowingly. He continued. "We've been… Well, our relationship has been rather rocky as I've been… absent. Ren-kun was naturally frustrated and I attempted to mend things between us but he was unreceptive and…" He sighed. "He kicked me out."

Yukio held his hands tightly together in his own lap. "I don't blame him. I would be frustrated too if he had done that to me. And I suppose I've said sorry so many times that… It doesn't mean much anymore. He told me not to call him Ren-kun anymore." His voice suddenly cracked and Yukio took a deep breath, holding back the tears that were bubbling up along with the words. He only had to blink and he felt the sink of the bed beside him and two strong, warm, and familiar arms wrap around him. He was pulled into his father's chest.

Yukio felt as if he was a child again and he hated it, but he couldn't help but to curl his fingers into his father's coat and hold onto him tightly.

"He said it was over," he whispered. "He said that we should call it quits… and give up. And I want to speak to him, I want to tell him so much but every time I talk to him and he looks at me, my throat just goes dry and I can't remember what I wanted to say."

Shiro placed a hand on the back of Yukio's head and hushed him. The two of them fell silent for a while until he let go and they both sat up straight. Yukio too another deep breath, still managing to hold back the traitorous tears.

"Do you want to give up?"

"No!" Yukio's gaze snapped to his father and then wandered down. "I suppose it's wrong of me to push, and selfish too. But I…" He sighed deeply. "Ren-kun is my only friend, and, at the very least, I don't want things to end this way."

"Hm." Shiro looked thoughtful. "You caught yourself between a rock and a hard place, Yukio."

He nodded and stared at the ground.

"But…"

Yukio looked up at his father again.

"I'd say give it one last shot." Shiro smiled to Yukio. "And make it count. No holding back. No lying. You tell him everything, within reason."

Yukio knew what those last two words meant. Everything, but his brother's and his own heritage. He nodded. He didn't need that to know but…

"He doesn't want to speak to me. How will I get him to listen?" Yukio frowned.

"You don't." Shiro stood up and walked to the desk. He opened the drawer, took out a pencil, and placed it in Yukio's hand. "Write him a letter. Let him read it on his own and when he's ready, he'll come to you."

"And… if he never does?" Yukio looked at his father worryingly.

"Then I'll be here for you and so will your brother." Shiro gave him a small smile. "Remember. This is your last shot. So,"

"Make it count." Yukio looked down at the pencil.

Dear Renzou,

I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now and perhaps you're contemplating just throwing this letter away, but if you've read this far, I promise you that this will be the last time I reach out to you should you make that decision. If you [wish to consider it so] want, this could count as a goodbye letter.

I have made so many mistakes. I've misjudged you and our relationship. Neglect is only one of the many things [I've done to wrong you] [messed up on] [I've committed] on my long list of slip-ups, but it's the only thing I've thought to apologize for. You're probably already tired of hearing this, but I'm sorry. I am so very and completely sorry.

I did a lot of thinking and I want to try once more. What happened at the fountain a couple weeks ago was, I believe, the last positive encounter that you remember. But it wasn't for me. On April 3rd, when I walked up on stage to deliver my speech I found you in the crowd. I spotted you immediately due to your hair. I suppose it's been ingrained in me after years to seek out pink. Maybe I am a girl, like you said. [(That was a joke, please laugh.)]

When I saw you, I remembered your voice. You told me to take it easy and not to worry so much. I ended up delivering the speech to you instead of to the first years. I hope you don't mind me saying, but you really gave me courage that day. You give me courage every day.

For as long as I could remember, I could see demons. My father speculates that perhaps I'd gotten injured as a baby but we're not sure. All I know is that when parents of children my age told their kids that monsters didn't exist, that nothing was hiding in the dark, my father couldn't do the same. Every day, I was terrified. Nearly every day I would see some sort of beast or shadow hiding around the corner and looking at me. I would be so scared I couldn't move. I grew ashamed at myself. Back then, two things were what kept me sane. My brother and your letters. Ren-kun gave me hope and a future. I had a dream beyond a career when we were children. I felt strong and determined, which, at that time, were new emotions for me. I started training to be an exorcist around the age of seven and through the tough times, you were what kept me going, as my brother didn't know about the extra lessons I was taking part in.

You gave me strength and how did I pay you back? By lying to you. I can see why you were frustrated and why you're so tired now. I regret it. I regret keeping things from you. I thought that it was a necessity back then. I never paused to think that perhaps you already knew about the Order. I never took the time to find out. I was so obsessed with [protecting] keeping the things between us normal that I never thought to try and trust you like I had done so easily when we were young.

I want to change that. I want to become what I once was. I want to be your confidant, your companion, but beyond that, your friend. I know that in order to achieve this, I need to work to regain your trust.

I understand if you wouldn't want to place yourself at risk again. I understand that this is selfish of me to ask for this opportunity after countless times of me failing to meet your expectations. This is my fault and my fault alone.

[I formally request the opportunity to]

[I hope you reconsider]

Please let me try. The thought of losing your friendship and the knowledge that I already have makes me terrified. You mean more to me than I've ever thought to tell you and I know that that was possibly the biggest mistake on my very long list.

Losing you is not something I wish to add to that.

Until next time?

Yukio

Renzou looked at the letter in his hand with blurry eyes. His fingers clutched onto the paper tightly. Even though he wasn't reading anymore, his mind kept going over the words he had read, over and over again.

He didn't know how to feel. He'd been in an awful mood since yesterday, since he'd had that confrontation with Yukio in his room. His mood hadn't improved today at all. He'd been quiet and withdrawn during class, and he'd become even more so after he spotted the letter that had been waiting for him in his shoe box. He recognized the handwriting at the front of the envelope, of course. How could he not? His mood plummeted even more at the sight of it, and not wanting to deal with it at all, Renzou had decided to ignore the letter. He changed his shoes and headed to cram school without pausing to reconsider his actions.

But the letter had been all he could think of the entire time. It haunted him. Hadn't Renzou made it clear that he was tired of all of this? Just what else did Yukio have to say? Hadn't yesterday been enough?

Renzou spent the rest of the day contemplating what to do with that letter. A part of him had wanted to throw it away, but another part couldn't help but to be morbidly curious about what it said. In the end, once classes were over for the day, Renzou hadn't been able to resist any longer. He headed back to the high school alone and picked up the letter before finding a secluded place to read it.

But he hadn't expected to be affected by the letter in this way at all.

Renzou didn't know why this letter impacted him as much as it had. He'd heard these apologies before. Yukio had said sorry to him more times than he could count, to the point that they had become meaningless. But there was something more in here this time. As Renzou looked through the shaky handwriting and the crossed out words, he remembered a different letter. His own letter. Even now, he could remember the words he'd written there, and not for the first time, he wished he hadn't been a coward all those years ago. If he had just sent that letter back then, things could have been different. They would have been different. Yukio wasn't the only one to blame for the way things had turned out. Renzou knew he had his own faults to own up to.

But now, seeing Yukio write to him again, seeing the honesty behind his words and his fervor to mend things between them, it healed a part of Renzou that had been festering away for years. He swallowed painfully as he pushed away his regrets and clung onto hope instead. He was glad no one was around to see him like this.

Unable to help himself, Renzou read the letter all over again, drinking in each word again, hearing Yukio's voice in his head as he read it.

I don't want to lose ya either, he thought, finally admitting that to himself.

Recalling the things he'd said yesterday, Renzou also had to admit that there was one thing he'd been right on. After everything that had happened, one thing was very clear: They were different people now… but, that didn't mean they couldn't be friends.

With that thought in mind, Renzou carefully folded the letter back and put into his satchel. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and went down his contact list until he reached the name he'd never thought he'd have to call.

When the line picked up, Renzou licked his lips nervously, and he said, "Hey. That café you mentioned yesterday… are ya still up for meetin' me there?"

Hearing's Yukio's voice didn't cause him the turmoil he'd felt before, and at his affirmative answer, something inside Renzou loosened. A careful though genuine smile crossed his lips.

"Alright then. I'll meet ya there… Yuki-chan."