Everlasting Cold

Author's Note: Wrote this seventeen years ago. Be forewarned that this fic contains references to suicide. Enjoy the story and R&R.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of Gravitation.

Summary:

An alternate ending to Track 13. Yuki Eiri wants to remember Kitazawa, and makes the ultimate decision.


It's cold. The frigid air laps at my skin and strangles me by the throat. My voice comes out as a mirror of the air, giving birth to the sharp wind. Snowflakes descend from above and blanket the world before me.

"What about your way back? Should I wait for you?"

I turn and he questions me. Why does he care? The fare for one ride is already so high. Pointless, since this is where it ends. My ride is over. It began here, and it ends here. But I answer him anyways, just to get him off my case.

"No. Thanks but no thanks."

I hear him let out a huff as he rolls up the taxi window. Then he drives off.

"Well…You're going to freeze to death."

I walk silently through the thick trail of white. The powder grasps at my shoes like the hands of the dead at my mind. It was here that I last saw Kitazawa Yuki. He was the greatest person I ever knew, and he was quite skilled at tutoring me as well. I admired him and looked up to him, but he died here in this cold, dark place. I took everything from him. His name, his life…

"I killed him."

I proceed, arriving at a street corner. Strange how the trip only took me several minutes, yet time drags with each step. More like hours than minutes. Kitazawa Yuki died back there. The true Kitazawa-sensei.

I can see faint flashes of red and blue light in the distance, coming from around the bend. Police, most likely. My suspicions are proven correct. Not only do I hear the sirens, but I walk straight into the person they were chasing: a short old geezer with grey hair. He wears a toque, and a purse is clutched firmly under his left arm. He stares at me in terror. He trembles at the sight of my eyes. The "eyes of a murderer," as Aizawa Taki referred to them.

I don't move. The volume of the sirens rises the closer they get and I know they're coming. The old man panics, but I doubt it was from the risk of being caught. He sees past my eyes. He sees the killer in me, and he runs in fear.

It is only now that I notice he dropped something. A tool of death, not so different from the one I used to end Kitazawa's existence, is there in the snow. I pick it up. The cool metal stings my hand. It still has one shot.

I move on, tucking the weapon into my coat. Its presence disturbs me, and the prospect of keeping it scares me, but I cannot deny its call. Seguchi and my brat sister must be looking for me. I can only hope that when they discover my whereabouts, what few threads of sanity they have left will be enough to compensate for my last error in judgment.

I ascend a fallen-in staircase. This place brings back memories. Bad memories. Kitazawa Yuki died here…The fake and cruel Kitazawa-sensei. I turn the doorknob and it almost falls out of place. I enter through the ancient door and take in my surroundings. The paint on the walls has peeled, revealing bare stone. Random graffiti litters the rock, and torn furniture is strewn about.

An empty bottle rolls out, halting next to my foot. I gaze down at it and the bloody echoes of the past flood into my mind. Yes, indeed Kitazawa died back there, in the park where the cabbie left me. The kind and caring Kitazawa I was attached to, as if a force like gravity had brought us together. Then the same force destroyed me. The bottle that rests beneath me killed Kitazawa-sensei. I killed the fake. The one who paid thugs to…I killed them too. Their sick faces disgusted me, and my fright meant their undoing.

Seguchi protected me from the truth, but now I know again. I remember. I sit down, my back against the cold wall. I retrieve the gun from my pocket and it clicks in anticipation of vengeance, or at least that's what I hear. Kitazawa Yuki died back there and here. The one I loved is lost to the snow that continues to plummet outside. The fake, his spirit remains here.

"Forgive me, Yuki."

I plead, but do not wait for a reply. I hold the weapon under me, and can feel the heat of impending destruction. My brain swells with regret, and my heart aches tremendously. For the first time since I left home, I think about Shuichi. But I do not ask his forgiveness as I pull the trigger.