Hello! So, I did something new in this chapter. Actually, 2 new things. First, I switch from Yukio's POV to Rin's in the middle of the chapter. I added 2 page breaks and an extra space, so it looks more obvious. Then, Rin has a flashback. I made it a block quote on AO3, but I don't know how to do it on here, so I just added page breaks. Hopefully it's not too confusing!
Thank you so much to my wonderful, generous, amazing roommate, willowcatkin for reading my terrible drafts and giving me sometimes scathing, but incredibly helpful suggestions. ^^
I ended up using a lot of quotes this time too:
1. "Why are you raising us? You're turning Nii-san into a weapon. What kind? And for what purpose?" Yukio has a flashback in chapter 93, and he asks Father Fujimoto this when he is a little younger.
2. "The Order, Tou-san...I wanted to believe they were on the right side." This is also from chapter 93. Yukio thinks this to himself.
3. "Don't you want to go home?" Shiemi says this to Yukio in chapter 93 in the flashback of two years ago when Yukio runs away from home (for like two seconds XD)
4. "Why does he never hesitate?" This is from Yukio's thoughts in chapter 37. He thinks this during the squid fight after Rin tells him, "Don't ask why! You're my brother!" so, you'll notice that I used Rin's line a little too.
5. "When I was a kid, I was alone. I didn't know how to control my feelings or my strength. So, I often hurt other people. Before I knew it, everyone was scared of me. But I had Yukio...so I was truly fortunate. I never knew true loneliness." Okay, so this line is from chapter 101. Rin is thinking to himself when he's watching Yuri be taken to Asylum. The original quote has "But I had Yukio, and Father Fujimoto provided a home for me, so I was truly fortunate," but I abbreviated slightly.
6. "Yuki-chan told me he's all alone without any friends...or even family." Shiemi tells Rin this in chapter 94. Honestly, this line was so heartbreaking. T.T
7. "I...don't understand him anymore. What can I do for him? I don't know what he's thinking! Even though he's my little brother." This is from chapter 90. Rin tells Shiemi when they get separated from everybody else at the shrine for the New Year.
Yukio goes to the chapel late in the same evening and before he says anything, Father Fujimoto gestures that he sit at one of the pews in the back.
"It's alright," he smiles, "everyone else is asleep."
"Thank you."
Father Fujimoto sits beside him, sighing as he leans back to stare at the ceiling of the cathedral. "Do you want to make a confession...Yukio?"
For a second, he does, despite having already made his decision before coming here. But his eyes land on the dancing flames of the candles and he sees the pillar of fire in his mind again. He feels...balanced on the border of something precarious, almost unhinged.
From experience, he knows it makes him dangerous.
Yukio shakes his head. "I don't," he whispers, "I don't want to be forgiven."
"Alright, let's go outside and talk then. It's stuffy in here."
They end up sitting on the curb just outside the chapel. The silence settles softly over them as quiet flakes of snow drift under the flickering street lights. Yukio puts his hands in his coat pockets, bowing his head slightly as he tries to will himself to speak.
"You know," Father Fujimoto begins, "you were named after me."
Yukio jerks his head up, eyes wide.
"When we first met, it was snowing too. And your mother, she called me the yukiotoko," he laughs, "pure white and super terrifying or something." He trails off, staring up at the slight, gold sheen of the cloudy night sky, reflected from the snow on the ground.
Yukio's mouth turns dry as he tests the word slowly, "Tou-san?"
"Why did you come here," he finally asks, "Yukio?"
"I didn't mean to. I—" he stops, clenching his hands into fists as he tries to keep from shaking, "it was my fault."
Father Fujimoto stays silent and Yukio doesn't think he can face him; why is he still so weak? "It was on a mission. I killed them," he says without reserve, and Father Fujimoto's expression turns worried as a hint of unease flashes across his features. In the next moment, it's gone and all that's left is a gentle empathy that Yukio doesn't deserve; he isn't even close to being finished.
"I wanted...to be strong," he admits, " I joined the Illuminati; I betrayed the Order and I wanted to know about our past, so I worked for them. I...shot Nii-san. I yelled at Shiemi-san, I threatened Suguro-kun and I— I don't know, I can't even remember all of—"
"Yukio," Father Fujimoto sets a hand on his back, "it's okay, take your time."
Yukio lets his hands uncurl slowly, pressing them softly onto the blanketed curb, watching the snow melt around his fingers.
"I— It was my fault. Nii-san and the nine other exorcists, along with all the research staff still left in the building, they died because of me. I planted the bomb—I couldn't stop them in time—and I killed them. Every last one and I hardly even cared about the others, I just—"
Father Fujimoto sighs and Yukio freezes; what is he even afraid of? Doesn't he deserve the worst anyway? He'd said he didn't want forgiveness but why does he crave it so desperately?
Why must he be so terrified his guilt will fade one day?
"You asked not to be forgiven, so you won't be," Father Fujimoto says, breath fogging into a small cloud. In the fragile light of the lamppost and the warm aureate glow of the snowy night, he suddenly looks every bit like the priest he's supposed to be.
"But you've taken the first step. Even if you take the rest of your life, your penance will mean something to the ones you wronged."
He gives Yukio a questioning look, "Will you stay here?"
Yukio lowers his head, staring at the clean, fallen snow for a long time after Father Fujimoto stands, setting his coat over Yukio's shoulders as he leaves.
Yukio thinks if things were the other way around, it wouldn't mean much to him. Nothing would ever be enough.
He shouldn't pretend to be here for any reason, other than his own greed, his pathetic, insatiable need to correct his own mistakes. He was too vain, earlier; thinking Nii-san might forgive him. It has been too late for a long time now.
But Yukio has nothing else to offer.
Father Fujimoto introduces him as a long lost cousin, Okumura Yuki, saying he'd found out recently and wanted to meet Rin and Yukio, and that he'd gotten a little lost on his way here.
Rin's eyes shine as he scoots a chair close to the bed, "You have the same moles as Yukio!"
His younger self ducks his head in embarrassment before he too clambers onto the chair, it's surprisingly large enough for both of them—they're so small, so young—staring at Yukio.
For a minute he doesn't quite know how to speak to them. He needs to imbue careful meaning into his words; he needs to change things—
"I do, don't I?" comes out instead, and for some reason he keeps going, he selfishly wants to see them laugh, wants to prove to himself he's really here. "That's how the people at the hospital found out we're related."
Younger Yukio shoots him a disbelieving look as Father Fujimoto sniggers behind his hand, but Rin's eyes widen with a soft, "Oh," and Yukio's heart hurts with nostalgia—Nii-san used to do that too, as though Yukio had told him something he'd never considered possible.
How long has it been since he talked to Rin?
"But if you're our cousin," Younger Yukio says, tiny fists clenched with determination, "do you know our parents?"
It's not...as disorienting as he thought it would be, to see his younger self like this, like the memory captured in an old photograph.
Yukio wishes he didn't have to disappoint him. He remembers how much he wanted to know too; that inexplicable need to understand why they were born, why their parents had left them.
He'd been given the file on Yuri Egin by the Illuminati, but in the end, he still doesn't know. The information was scattered, too focused on the events and actions of Yuri, but with none of the truth he was searching for. It'd been oddly like reading a book, for one side character in a vast plot, and skipping to the scenes she appeared in without knowing her life, the events around her, the world she lived in.
"I'm sorry," Yukio whispers, looking down at his bandaged fingers, "I tried to find out." He can only offer his younger self a pained smile, "I don't know mine either."
But unexpectedly, he receives a shy smile from Yukio, "That's okay," he says, "...you have us now, and Tou-san and—" he breaks off, suddenly looking flustered.
"Yeah! We're your family!" Rin adds as he leans forward expectantly, "you're staying here now, right?"
It's not fair, that Yukio is the one who feels saved.
"Yes, I'll be staying here now."
"These are the guys I trust with my life," Father Fujimoto says, as the priests gather around his bed, "Izumi, Maruta, Naoya, Seishiro, and Tadashi."
Yukio bends at the waist slightly in greeting. It feels marginally peculiar that he's meeting them again, but he never really lost them—except Misumi-san—so, admittedly, all he feels is a bland, mild warmth.
"Go ahead and introduce yourself," Father Fujimoto prompts.
It sounds perfectly natural when he says it, but Yukio hesitates; he knows he's being given a choice.
Izumi, Maruta, Kyodo-san, Nagamoto-san, and Misumi-san. He wonders if the rest of them, like Misumi-san, have Morinas Contracts. What kind of guilt was Misumi hiding, that he would seek to confess when Lightning threatened him, even knowing Death would come for him?
He knows nothing about their past, before they followed Father Fujimoto to serve at this small monastery.
They've been here since before he could remember, but he hardly knows them at all; not truly, at least. He hardly knows them, like with Father Fujimoto.
Why are you raising us? You're turning Nii-san into a weapon. What kind? And for what purpose?
His own doubts are painful and incorrigible in their persistence. He is sure, as long as he doesn't know, he won't be able to trust them; not genuinely, and most certainly not reciprocally.
The Order, Tou-san...I wanted to believe they were on the right side.
He has no idea what to think anymore, not when he remembers how he'd felt before he unearthed this ugly distrust...they'd never been anything other than kind and accepting to him and Rin.
Perhaps that is fine, this time.
In the end, he is living a second chance too.
"I'm Okumura Yukio," he dips his head again from where he's sitting on the bed, "I'm from the future. Please call me Yuki," he finishes bluntly.
There's a collective moment of silence before Izumi slaps his thigh, laughing, "Wow, seriously? You really grew up to be something, man, I can't believe this."
"Izumi," Nagamoto-san shushes, as he turns to Father Fujimoto for confirmation, "how is this possible? What happens in the future that made you come back here?"
"I made a mistake I need to correct," Yukio replies. He's been referring to it like that, but there's too much that was wrong. It sounds too simple.
"Then, how long are you staying? Is this where you change it and go back? Or, are you…" Misumi-san trails off, eyes darting between Father Fujimoto and Yukio.
"I don't have a way back," Yukio admits, "there's no chance for me to return." Not that he knows of, and not that he cares. There is truly nothing left for him to return to, in that future.
"Dang," Izumi says, "that's some conviction. So, what happens in the fut—"
"That's enough for today," Father Fujimoto interrupts, "Izumi, you should know better than to ask those things," he says, tapping the back of his neck. "Yuki, this is your home now. Got it?"
Yukio nods, and as the priests leave, Kyodo-san adds, "If you need anything, Yuki, doesn't matter if you're older or whatever. You'll always be the same to us."
It hurts, just gently as a slight tightness when he breathes out, that they would say this to him...when he can never be the same as before.
Don't you want to go home?
He had somehow forgotten, standing in the fragile snow, in the drizzling rain, the warmth of this place. How could he have forgotten?
He was only ever alone by choice.
Yukio looks up from his book as he hears a strange thump on his window. He opens it slightly, suppressing the urge to shiver as the winter air sweeps into his cozy room like an uninvited guest; bound to overstay its welcome.
Yukio looks down, spotting Rin and Yukio, dressed in thick winter coats, standing there with visible anticipation. He thinks he has an idea of where this is going.
"Come play in the snow with us!" Rin waves his small, mitten-clad hands in the air, gesturing to a malformed lump of snow crouched behind him, "we're going to make a huge snowman!"
Younger Yukio tugs on Rin's sleeve, "Tou-san said Yuki-san needed to rest—"
"It's okay," Yukio blurts, "I can help."
He feels a disturbing turmoil coiling, settling in his thoughts; it's best not to leave it there, like he did before. He needs to get to know them again. He can only hope to change things gradually, to manipulate the events in their favor.
But it must be better this way, he repeats to himself.
Yukio meets the teal—unclouded, not yet hiding agitated blue—eyes of his younger self and forces a smile onto his face.
Don't become like me, don't make my mistakes, he wants to say. But there's nowhere to begin. He doesn't know how to even fix himself. In ten years, Yukio will stand where he stands now.
In ten years, Rin will be gone again.
He can't let that happen.
"I'll be out in a minute," Yukio adds quickly, giving them a small wave as he realizes he's waited too long to respond. "Don't try lifting it without me," he warns, "I don't want you to strain anything."
Honestly, he doesn't remember how strong Rin was at this age. It's entirely possible he's stronger than Yukio already.
"Okay!" Rin chirps, "Come on Yukio, let's make the head."
Yukio shuts the window, wondering if he can wear one of Izumi's coats—
There's a worrying clamor outside, and Yukio snaps out of his thoughts with a lingering sense of disorientation; rushing to the foyer.
He pulls the door open and is nearly thrown off balance as Izumi pulls Yukio and Rin inside, knuckles white as he holds them by the backs of their coats.
He hears muffled shouting outside, and Izumi's trepidation is palpable in the suddenly stale air—something is wrong, he needs to know what's happening; why does he not remember this from before?
Yukio instinctively reaches for his guns—when his hands grasp air, he doesn't have time to ponder why he feels relieved—ducking past Izumi's arm as he tries to leave, only to be seized by the back of his sweater.
"Yuki! Where do you think you're going?" Izumi's voice trembles, hand tightening around Yukio's wrist like he's doing Yukio a favor, as though Yukio can't—
He needs to keep it together. Seeking power has done nothing for him; he deliberately discarded everything for it before, he refuses to let that interfere with his goals now. It shouldn't be important to him anymore. He can't let himself fall to that this time.
He needs to be rational. He doesn't have his guns, but he can summon the naiads if he needs, and if anything, he can provide first aid. He'll serve a better purpose outside, rather than waiting in here, unaware of the situation.
Yukio swiftly breaks Izumi's hold on his arm, pulling the medical kit from the cabinet, and wrenches the door open.
The snow is blindingly bright and for a minute, he sees a haze of color he knows isn't there.
"I'm Okumura Rin!" a voice Yukio hasn't heard for over a year declares, brimming with fortitude, ringing out so impossibly clear through his harried thoughts.
An absent idea crosses his mind as he closes his eyes against the glare of the snow, seeing an imposing silhouette in his mind, wreathed in blue flames, extending a hand toward him. Could this be the very figure of death, coming for him in the visage of his most regretful mistake? Could all of this have been...a sort of mercy, a dream meant to placate him, so he can be taken without resistance?
How can any of this possibly be real?
"Nii-san," falls from his lips habitually—it shouldn't, how can he accept this—
He steps forward, feet so heavy he feels he's barely moving at all, heedlessly crossing the barrier Kyodo and the others set up.
Rin turns around just as his stride turns to a lunge, and Yukio throws his arms around him. He latches on tightly, digging his fingers into Rin's coat, clutching his shoulders hard enough to feel the bones under his fingertips.
Rin stiffens minutely before he relaxes, pulling Yukio closer without hesitation.
He shouldn't pretend to deserve this, but he wants to stay here; he can't let go.
"Yukio," Rin breathes, "what's going on? How can you be here? How are you here?"
His voice sounds brittle, almost far away; Yukio can hardly hear him over the pounding of his heart, the shortness of his own breaths, the roaring of the train in his ears.
Does he know…what Yukio did? Does he know?
He wants to fall to his knees, to beg for Rin's forgiveness—he doesn't understand why it means so much to him, when he couldn't possibly have asked for Father Fujimoto's—to return to before...when they were still brothers. He desperately wants to return to that time, when he hadn't cut their ties, hadn't hated—hadn't willingly ruined everything he longs for now.
"Nii-san," Yukio repeats, pushing Rin's arms away as he steps back. He phrases his question with utmost care, with deliberateness that he would never have the courage to speak, if not in this moment.
"What time...did you come from?"
Rin's expression turns grave and Yukio knows exactly what he means when he says, "After the gates opened completely."
Yukio's breath catches in his throat, "Then, why?" Why are you here? How can you stand to look at me? Won't you despise me?
"Yukio," Rin snatches his wrist as he tries to take another step back, "I told you before, don't ask why," he says thickly, voice taunt with emotion as he tightens his grip, "What part of this can't you get into your head? You're my brother!"
Why does he never hesitate?
What does Rin mean when he says that—that they're brothers?
"Oh no, not you too."
"What?" Rin asks incredulously, "What are you talking about?"
Father Fujimoto frowns, "You didn't come together?"
"Nii-san," a quiet whisper reaches his ears and Rin's heart stops as he turns in disbelief.
He takes in the somewhat baggy sweater, cracked glasses, hands wrapped in bandages, a large white bandage on his temple and some scratches on his cheeks, teal eyes that Rin will always know, counting the moles on his face. He must have gotten those from their mother, Rin realizes absently.
Still, he can't believe what he's seeing. Yukio is standing before him. Yukio, who is taller than Rin, who is unmistakably the same age as Rin, who isn't from this time.
Rin takes a quick step back, bracing himself as Yukio crashes into him—he's so warm, so familiar; he even smells the same—and Rin hugs him close in confusion, in shock. Yukio seems to shiver as Rin leans into the hug, and he wonders if he's cold, he feels thinner and he's not even wearing a coat.
"Yukio," Rin finally manages to speak as he finds he can't stand the confusion any longer, "what's going on? How can you be here? How are you here?"
This doesn't make any sense. Yukio is—was dead, wasn't he? Was Shima wrong? Or did the Order make a mistake?
Did Mephisto know, when he sent Rin?
"Okumura-kun," Mephiso coughs, "before you go...back, you need to—" he breaks off into another fit, waving Belial away in frustration as he dabs at his mouth with a tissue. "Clear the timeline...do you remember?"
Rin shakes his head, "What do I have to do?"
"Erase...what you changed before," he hands Rin the rest on a piece of paper, hands shaking with exertion.
Belial steps forward and hands him a small cage with a single white ball of hair, tiny bead-like orange eyes, and no visible limbs. Rin stares at it warily for a few moments before it hisses at him, and he nearly drops the cage.
Rin switches to reading the letter—he doesn't get it, as he expected—hesitating as he gazes at the key, trying to come to terms with what Mephisto has said.
He doesn't understand why he feels so reluctant. Nothing was different in the end. He wasn't able to stop Yukio at all.
But at least, to Rin, it had felt like a small fragment of hope—a desperation that refused to fade—that he might return.
So, when he steps out into that refreshing summer breeze, pulling himself out of the lotus pond, he swears he'll do it right this time; he won't let Yukio believe he's weak anymore, because he never was.
Yukio was never weak in Rin's eyes.
He lets his past self brush the water out of his eyes for a minute, then Rin yanks his hood over his head, pulling him into the nearby bushes.
"Hey!" his past self squawks indignantly, shoving the hood off his head, "W-who are you? How do you have the same face as—"
Rin slaps a hand over his mouth as the sound of footsteps comes closer.
"Spread out to search the area! Yukio, draw the barrier I taught you and stay here in case it comes back. Everyone else, keep communications open; do not engage the Cat Sidhe! Report back here in an hour."
Rin waits impatiently until the rest of the exorcists have left before he releases the breath he's been holding.
"Listen," he begins, feeling disoriented as his past self frowns at him, "Just trust me. I'm you, but from the future. I just need you to sit here. Don't do anything, okay?"
"Why?" Rin protests, "Why are you here? I've got something to say to Yukio—wait, Yukio! What happens to Yukio in the future?"
"Look, I know—"
"Why do I have to listen to you? How—"
Rin pushes air out of his mouth forcefully, trying to curb his frustration. He knows, knows precisely how much his past self needed to talk to Yukio, how much this meant to him, but he has to fix this before he can go back.
Mephisto had said it would be best if he didn't reveal too many details—that he would be changing things this way too. But Rin knows his past self is in a dark place right now, a place Rin hasn't quite gotten out of himself, and he deserves an explanation.
"I'm going to the past," he says flat out, "but because I changed things before, the—" he stops, trying to remember what the letter said, "the timeline is going to reject me when I try to change things further back."
His past self makes a confused expression and well, Rin can't help him much, he's confused too. Mephisto had explained in a broken string of words and sentences that didn't quite match up, and frankly he doesn't think he would have understood either way.
"Anyway," Rin presses on, "I need you to sit here quietly and wait. Don't move, even when Kuro comes, because if we change any more, I won't be able to fix things on my end."
His past self squats there, dripping wet, and shoots a longing glance at Yukio, standing alone at the front of the temple. "You're starting from the beginning?"
Rin gives him a curious look over. He hadn't expected his past self to cooperate. He's grateful though, and maybe they both know how difficult it is for the other to do this—even if this didn't change much for Yukio, it was a lot, supposed to be a lot, for them.
"Yeah."
"Then, tell Yukio—will you tell Yukio that he's not—" his past self breaks off, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging as he clenches his fists. He shakes his head, "If you're going back to the beginning...can you save our mother and, and those other people?"
"I don't know," Rin says, suddenly crestfallen. How can he pick who to save? Can he even save their mother? If he does, and too much changes, what if he can't save—fix the future? How is he supposed to—
"Good luck," his past self offers, "just...just forget what I said. I know you probably can't save everyone."
Rin clicks the latch on the cage, opening the door decisively before he loses his nerve. There's no going back now.
He turns to his past self and in that instant, he feels connected; he remembers exactly how he felt, "I'll tell Yukio," Rin declares, perhaps too loudly, "I'll tell him for you, I promise."
The white fluffy knot of hair bounces out and opens its enormous, gaping maw, swallowing the horizon in white light.
"Nii-san," Yukio says, voice turning detached as he pulls away, becoming very, very still. "What time...did you come from?"
Rin swallows dryly, and somehow, he understands what Yukio is hinting at. His posture is tense, head slightly tilted downward, not meeting Rin's eyes as he gazes to the side—he looks like when Rin met his younger self at the temple, the nervous one who'd mistakenly pointed his gun at him and thought he'd be yelled at or—
He knows what time Yukio came from.
"After the gates opened completely." Rin admits. He's not willing to spare Yukio the pain; not forgiving enough to let him escape his guilt. Rin has no place to judge him though, not when Rin isn't clean either. Just seconds after being born, he'd caused that terrible tragedy.
It's not the same, but...if they work together, maybe they can change the future, and his teammates, the Order, all of those innocent people caught in the crossfire, they'll have better lives too. Maybe, they can save everyone.
"Then...why?" Yukio asks, and he finally meets Rin's eyes. The torment and regret shows clearly, shaded into every thin line and faintly-red scratch on his face, and Rin decides, it's enough.
"Yukio," he leans close, grabbing Yukio's wrist as he tries to shy away.
When I was a kid, I was alone. I didn't know how to control my feelings or my strength. So, I often hurt other people. Before I knew it, everyone was scared of me.
But I had Yukio...so I was truly fortunate.
I never knew true loneliness.
Yet, he'd been so consumed by anger; he'd been furious that Yukio had hurt their friends, it's no wonder Rin couldn't keep Yukio from leaving. He doesn't know, still can't imagine what had driven Yukio to such lengths, what he'd been seeing that night.
Yuki-chan told me he's all alone without any friends...or even family.
How could he have ever let that happen? Rin should never have—he failed Yukio in a way he never should have; in the worst way possible. He's never going to let Yukio feel that way again, not ever again.
"I told you before, don't ask why," Rin says, "What part of this can't you get into your head? You're my brother!"
But Yukio just shakes his head, wiping at his eyes, and it feels like they're children again, like this has happened before, "I'm sorry, Nii-san" he whispers, "I'm sorry," he repeats over and over—
"...I'm sorry too," Rin mutters, sorry for not knowing how you felt, for not being able to stop you when you left, for not getting you back when you were gone…sorry for letting you be alone.
"I'm sorry, Yukio," he begins, and when Yukio looks up, Rin smiles. He smiles because he knows this look and that horrible, frightening confusion that had troubled him for so long rests at last.
I...don't understand him anymore. What can I do for him? I don't know what he's thinking! Even though he's my little brother.
And finally, he can say the words he has been holding onto this whole year, this entire time Yukio's been gone like a hole in his heart; the words he's repeated to himself countless times, wishing he could have thought of them, said them earlier.
"We...were thinking the same thing," Rin confesses, "I know, just as I wanted to protect you, you wanted to protect me. I should have realized; I should have let you more."
He needs to say this correctly. He promised his past self too. "I thought you were perfect, Yukio. I really did, for a long time," Rin takes a deep breath, hoping desperately that he hasn't misunderstood, "I think, you admired me too, didn't you? It sucks, that we were so jealous of each other...we couldn't see ourselves."
He won't lose Yukio again. He never wants to feel that way again.
"From now on," Rin smiles bitterly, "we can't do that anymore."