notes:
hello! it's been more than a while! is this fandom even still alive? jesus. i just recently graduated college (yay me), & now im resting before going full adulting aka finding a job. …i actually graduated four months ago, i just didnt want to write anything because i got so sick of writing for my thesis ahahaha. anyway, this chapter is more Karma than karmanami
fun fact: this was actually borne out of my own uncertainties about my future, & i… kinda projected. but i think it turned out fine…?
[Theory of Happiness—a calm and modest life brings more happiness than the pursuit of success combined with constant restlessness]
v: Theory of Happiness
The parcel arrived that weekend, held in the hands of a delivery man at 8:33 in the morning right as Karma opened the door to leave. It didn't weigh all that much, the protective boxing small, addressed to him and under that is Akabane Kuniharu, his father, having come all the way from Peru. Sure are going places, aren't you guys?
He tore through the wrapping and blinked at the bundle of cloth and candy pack that lay inside in neatly arranged rows—next to a pack of strange candies another postcard lay tucked featuring the Urubamba River being overlooked atop the Inca Trail of Machu Picchu, and surely enough, his mother's writing dominated the other side of it. This woman, he thought with affection, she should've just written a letter. A container of Peruvian pink salt rolled out from within the bundles, and Karma shook it as he read the postcard.
Dearest Karma,
How are you? Peru is lovely, but this postcard doesn't quite do it justice. We haven't actually been planning to travel here. I've been feeling a little under the weather lately, and you know how much your dad worries, but I think it's just motion sickness. We'll be staying here for a few days, to be sure, so don't worry too much. Do send us an e-mail when you get this package, we miss you a whole lot! Every young man I pass by reminds me of you, and I wonder if you've grown taller again. Maybe you're even taller than dad, now. Try the salt and the Coca candies! I think you'll like them. I'm not so sure about the sweaters, but I'm positive they fit you. We'll be expecting your email!
All our love,
Mom and Dad
In some strange, almost miraculous luck, the two sweaters fit perfectly, though he didn't care much for the green one, preferring the maroon one better even though the green one had a cooler design—besides it would just clash with his hair. The candies aren't half-bad, and Karma liked that it isn't overly sweet nor too bland as he crushed it with his teeth.
But there was a reluctance to his hands, a familiar feeling of detachment as he scrolled past his father's email contact. Maybe it was some form of petulance, maybe he didn't just want to. With a sigh, Karma stood to stash the postcard in its designated drawer in the bureau. Just another postcard among the hundreds that occupied the drawer, all from the Altai Mountains to the African wilderness and it wasn't even half-full still. Karma lost count after the 200th postcard. He still remembered that postcard, though, with its red and gold color scheme with large, obnoxious letters of Cambodia in overly-decorated Christmas font.
It was the only thing they sent for his 14th birthday. They couldn't make it in time because the flights were full, it said. We're so sorry, honey. Happy birthday and Merry Christmas, and then, we love you. They did come home on the first week of February before leaving again just a week after. Karma wondered why he still bothered keeping the postcards when he wasn't even sure how many were there now. He wondered why he hadn't burned them up; he wondered why he still bothered reading them in the first place. And he didn't always reply, either.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he passed, backtracked, and then stopped. Karma frowned and ran a hand through his fringe; definitely longer than he remembered, and it was starting to tickle the back of his neck, too. Hands braced against the bureau, Karma stared hard at his reflection.
This was the face of his father, and he had his mother's eyes.
Mom used to always say, "What a handsome face, soon you'll be looking like your dad when you're all grown up!" And this was done while she still had the time to dote and fuss, before all the money and the traveling and the stupid postcards. This was the face of his dad, and… If I just do this…
He hadn't realized he'd moved until he was staring at his father's general appearance—hair pushed back, parted to the side. Karma's work was clumsy, with several strands rogue and messy, but whoa that's his dad right there and I look just like him. Scoffing and furiously tousling his hair, Karma glared at his reflection.
"Stupid," he huffs, you miss them. That fact never changed. He kept those postcards because they had been pressed to his parents' hands all the way from where they'd sent it from, a tiny thought that though they're walking along the crowded streets of China to admiring the ruins of Parthenon he was also reliving what they had been experiencing.
He had learned to stay the restlessness in his heart but it never left in the wake of his parents' departures; a perennial second thought at the back of his mind. He wanted to get out of here—this large empty house, maybe even the country. Wanted to follow them, stepping on the imprints of their footsteps that paved the way to their own version of the world where Sydney was here and Tokyo was there. He wanted to get out. He wanted. How selfish, he thinks, abandoning the mirror to flop back on the couch, studying the ceiling with little interest.
The silence is ever-deafening, the house cold.
Sighing softly through his teeth, he dug through his pockets for his phone and dialed. For the few seconds it rang, Karma pretended to count the cracks he couldn't see on the ceiling.
The call picked up, and then came the curious, "Karma?"
"Hey, let's hang."
"Now?" There was a sound of cutlery against a plate and a woman's voice he faintly recognized to be Mrs. Shiota asking who was on the phone. "It's just Karma, mom."
"'Just Karma?' Wow, my worth, man. I can feel it dwindling to an all-time low. Attitude!"
Nagisa scoffs. "And your sarcasm is rejuvenating. Can you give me 10 minutes?"
"Sure, but you sure you wanna hang with me? I might mean I wanna hang you."
"Hang me then I'll haunt you."
"Ah, ghosts do scare me, and my hair is green. It'll pain me to have you exorcised." Karma snorts. "Let's play Survival."
Nagisa hums. Karma knows he's already accepted. "Only if its melee."
"Melee or not, I always beat you."
"That's not always true." The rebuttal doesn't completely come out of nowhere, but even through the phone Karma knows Nagisa hadn't meant for it to come out that way, because there's an awkward pause and a slight stammer to his next words. "Erm, I mean…"
"Don't." High school is supposed to be clean slate, and Karma laughs under his breath. "You can stop stuttering like a shoujo manga character during a love confession."
And just like that indignation is back to Nagisa's voice and Karma could already feel the swirl of welcome relief blossom in his chest at the thought of locking back that can of worms. "Hey! Did you have to compare it like that? Sorry for being sensitive!"
"S'not a big deal, so chill." Karma looked up at the ceiling and then out the window, all idle thoughts. "Oho, that rhymed."
"Alright, alright. Where do we meet up?"
Nagisa's 10 minutes stretch to an extra 20 minutes, and Karma minds very much because those 20 minutes of his time that could have been used to distract him from anything but the thought of his big empty house and how he succeeded at leaving it for the time being, but eventually having to go back to it later because where else would he go back to?
He didn't want to call it home.
The playground near Nagisa's place is empty, which surprised him a little. It's a weekend. Kids with their mobile phones and tablets and pasty little faces, he thought with no real conviction and a heavy dose of irony as he scrolled through his phone, pushing himself on the swing with little vigor. Damn it, Nagisa, he groused as he stomped on a leaf that found itself blown to him, then paused.
At that moment, Karma felt a lot like that stupid leaf.
He knew what he needs to become; he'd laid it all to Korosensei during career counseling: plans for the government, the elbows he needed to grease so he could work his way up the ladder of power, the second knife he knew that still needs polishing. But while he knew what he needed to be for the benefit of many others, Karma still had many wants: wants to do, wants to be, wants to have; wants that reared for the pursuit of self-interest.
The boot of indecision is heavy; the future objective and structured, but still uncertain.
Would he remain crushed underneath it? Would he be able to escape it, be blown back to a directionless drifting of where life would fancy taking him to? There's one thing though: Karma will not wither, and there's no breaking that's gonna happen… except if it's to crush someone's bones. There's the idea of needing to staying put for a long-term goal versus staying because you didn't know what you wanted.
Karma picked up the leaf, wiped off dust and dirt from its surface with a careful sort of attentiveness. This is what Nagisa arrives to.
"What are you doing?" Nagisa questions, as he took the empty swing to Karma's right.
Karma barely looked at him. "What do you think of when you see this leaf?"
"Erm, it fell from its tree?" Nagisa took a closer look, then at the surroundings. "Oh, it's from a magnolia tree… you know, usually, it's the flowers we look at."
"The finer details are what completes the bigger picture. And besides, spring is over. No flowers today."
"That's true, but why are you asking?"
Karma hummed. "This leaf is drifting and directionless, now that it fell away from its tree. Where would it go? What would happen to it? One day it would wither and die even if it's fresh now, but with no real purpose anymore. I'm not sure how many times this leaf has been stepped on, but whether it's never been stepped on or not, it can't really give off oxygen anymore. It exists now purely as biodegradable material, gathered for composting, or if it's unlucky enough, it would just dry up and break to pieces without being collected for its only remaining purpose."
"What then?" Karma knew Nagisa had no way of seeing through his head, but he knows Nagisa had always been thoughtful and intuitive. It's not that he knew what Karma means, but he understands what Karma wants to mean through the curve lines and riddles.
And for this reason he wants to be straight lines even just for a little, because Nagisa was his friend and he gets a feel of his thoughts even though Karma always doesn't. "I'm saying I feel like this leaf. I can't help thinking I'm just drifting, even though I know what I need to do. I stepped on this leaf a few moments ago, and thought that if my foot was what kept it there, then it's indecision that's keeping me under. I know what I need to be."
He looked at Nagisa, frowning now. "But I also know what I want to be. And I want to have both."
Nagisa watched Karma look away and turn the leaf over and over in his hands, before he stowed it into the breast pocket of his shirt, turned and looked at him again. In that time, Karma also took note of how Nagisa's hair grew, too. He still kept it in pigtails, just a little longer now. He wondered if Nagisa will cut it, too.
"You could have been an assassin if you wanted." Karma paused. "No… all of us could have been assassins, and… none of us pursued it. Sometimes I think about why's that."
Nagisa swung on his seat for a few seconds. Then he looked up. "We're already assassins, just… I don't know, but all of us could have been better."
But out of all of them, Nagisa was—is—the best assassin. It remains a truth that's still hard to swallow. "So why didn't you?"
"Just because you're the best at something doesn't mean it's your calling, Karma." Nagisa smiled. "It wouldn't have been fulfilling, doing something only because you were the best at it but not because you were happy doing it."
"Wouldn't it have gone down that path anyway?"
"Not for me," Nagisa sighed, pitching forward so his seat could swing. "Korosensei contributed a lot to what I want to be, and that shaped what I need to be. Killing him was… it hurt, and in some way, you know… it helped me realize that underneath all the assassination thing, we were still just normal students who lost a teacher."
Karma swung on his seat, out of sync. "Assassination took up a large space in our lives, even if it was just for a year."
"But before that we had a life beyond it. Before class 3-E and Korosensei we've always been just normal students. Or as normal as you can be in Kunugigaoka." Nagisa stopped swinging, and laughed. "And we're still normal kids, even after that crazy year together. It's over but it doesn't mean we have to turn our backs to it."
Without warning, Karma kicked up the dirt beneath and used that as an opportunity to throw himself out of the swing, flinging a rather sharp rock at Nagisa—his senses detected movement, and as the dust cleared Nagisa stood at the other side of the swing set, rock in hand with a baffled expression. "So I see, you're keeping it up too."
"Of course. Maybe it'll do us well someday." Nagisa's smile is wry as he tossed the rock away. "Or did you just need a reason to show off?"
"Me? Show off? Never."
They settle back down, and the swings move in harmony. "I know I can be good assassin," Nagisa begins. "But don't you think the world has more than enough destroyers? Maybe it's time for more creators."
Karma blinked, and then scoffed his amusement. "But creation could also create destruction, and destruction can breed new creations."
"Maybe, maybe." Nagisa shrugged, smiling now. "It's all just two sides of a coin, a double-edged knife. It's just up to us on how to use it. And Karma?"
"What?"
"I know wanting to be a teacher seems a little lackluster compared to being an assassin, but it's the thought of inspiring the students I'd have, the guidance I could give the way Korosensei had guided us." Nagisa's breath hitched, and Karma observed him at the corner of his eye. "I… I want to create something like that. That's what makes me happy."
What makes you happy? Went unsaid. Happiness for his parents meant wealth and the travels that come with it. Always moving about, never in one place too long in their hunger for adventure. They'd never said it, but he knows they were happy doing it, even if it meant not coming home for long periods of time—sometimes Karma thinks home for them is but a starting point in a video game, like the village you start in but the one you'd eventually leave in pursuit to greater things.
Then he thinks of Manami, who continues to do what makes her happy and what she's best in. In fact, he's pretty sure she's got that road figured out already. If he wasn't mistaken with her parents' occupations as pharmacists she could even help them out and work alongside them. Karma didn't have that kind of complementary relationship with his parents but he wanted to do what they were doing, too. It clashed with what he needs to be. What else makes me happy? Manami's face remained at the forefront of his mind, but his heart stuttered at the change that transpired yesterday. She was so small in his arms it still throws him sometimes; makes him want to shelter her, keep her safe. Killing for her is nothing short of ordinary—he'd die for her, for everyone in class 3-E, but the gravity of what he wanted included only her.
But she's not some breakable, fragile thing. He is not meant to possess her, as she is not meant to complete him. They could complement each other, be the right fit together, but they're still whole on their own. Yes, she makes me happy, but while I would like to be by her side, the possibility of having to be apart for our individual goals still exists… When it all comes down to it, we'd both hate holding each other back.
Inevitable, but acceptable. He didn't like it, but he could live with it.
"Hey, you okay?" Nagisa questioned, breaking his thoughts, and Karma breathed in, breathed deep, and released.
"Nagisa, I don't thank you very often." Nagisa made a surprised noise. When Karma looked at him and presented a fist, Nagisa just looked even more dumbfounded. "So, thanks. For hearing me out. …You make a good best friend."
The confusion dissolved on Nagisa's face, and he smiled warmly back as he fist-bumped Karma. "No problem."
It's after countless duo game missions with Nagisa and a few minutes to midnight when he gets backs home.
Standing in front of the bureau mirror again, Karma sets to work.
It takes him a while to get it looking just right, but when he pats all the rogue strands of hair and leans back to study himself, Karma finds he liked it. He doesn't mind the work he put in. He doesn't mind looking into his father's face and his mother's eyes, knowing he had ambitions of his own and knowing it'll take a while before he could achieve all those and more.
He doesn't mind thinking: I will have everything, just not all at once, either.
i liked writing karmagisa friendship so much more than i thought. also, i apologize if the writing seems a little out of touch. it's been a while! though i'm very glad my younger self thought of doing chapter outlines because tbh? this series would be lost to me had i not written one. we dodged a serious bullet :')
on mornings spent swaying to and fro on the train is also found under chuunihans for the series one train ride away on ao3.