Evening had settled in. Vibrant reds and oranges stretched across the indigo sky; there was a horrified silence in the air, filled by the faint murmuring of the crickets.
"...couldn't save the building. We prevented the fire from spreading..."
"But we got here after the collapse. We couldn't save anyone who was trapped."
"It's all right. ...head count, everyone was accounted for. Except..."
The adults were quiet for a moment. "Except his sister, huh."
"...can hear you... be quiet."
Akihiko felt his eyes burn. Like I can't tell that you're talking about me.
He could hear his name spoken under the breath of every mutter that surrounded him. His fellow children in the orphanage, the caretakers, the authorities... everyone's concerns were slandered on him, everyone's eyes were sympathetic on him. He didn't want their sympathy. Their sympathy didn't change what had happened. It didn't bring Miki back. Perhaps worst of all, their sympathy did nothing more than reinforce the realization he had come to; he was worthless. Powerless... and his sister was gone because of it.
It must have already been hours since they escaped the building. Time was hazed to him; he would have believed it if someone had told him he had only been sitting there for little more than a few minutes, or conversely, for an eternity. His tears had eventually stopped flowing. His screams were silenced. His throat felt parched and his voice was hoarse, gone, his eyes sore and dry. Had such things not been the case, he was sure he would have been in the same fit of disarray as he was in when he was first dragged from the building.
"Hey, Aki." He had been deaf to the rustle of Natsuo's approaching footsteps in the grass. His eyes remained coldly transfixed on the grass beneath his hunched body, unwilling to see or speak or quite honestly, exist, if it was up to him.
But it wasn't. He could change nothing. He was worthless.
The darker brunette held out a steady hand to offer a cup filled to the brim with fresh, clear water. "You need to drink some water and let the medics check you out, all right? You probably inhaled a lot of the smoke inside of the orphanage."
He still refused to look up. "I'm not thirsty."
"I'm not asking you, Akihiko." The boy rose up to his feet. "...Where's Shinji?"
The younger boy trembled at the very name. "I don't care."
"Aki, why would you say that? He's your friend! He saved your life!"
"I don't care!" Rage blistered in the boy's fragile body as he stood, his throat constricting as if to cry, but tears never came to him. Chances are, he just didn't have any left. "I don't care what he did - I hate him! I wish he had died instead!"
Natsuo jolted back at this. Satoru, somewhere in the vicinity discussing matters with the firefighters and the paramedics, also glanced over; one or two of the orphanage's children looked up with pity or shock, and others drew further into themselves. "...I know how terrible your loss must feel. But..." But Natsuo's voice choked in his throat. Akihiko didn't dignify him with a response; he stood, his movements slow, drifting, and mustered the strength to carry himself in the direction of the distant riverbank.
No one followed him. Not even Natsuo, for he knew that regardless of whether or not he did, he would never find the words to ease the boy's anguish.
۞
Listless in the aftermath of the day's tragedy, Natsuo found himself wandering back to the authorities. They hadn't left yet, but by the commotion and chatter amongst them, it sounded like they were wrapping up business and preparing to depart. He found one of the paramedics in the crowd of personnel. "Where are the victims of the fire that you took in?"
"Some of them are in the back of the ambulance. None of them were seriously hurt, so we decided not to transport them to the hospital."
"So we can see them?" He was given a nod in return. Natsuo's eyes grew solemn and distant. "You have one named 'Shinjiro' with you. May I see him?"
"Ah, him." The male sighed heftily, "Yeah, he's just over here."
Rows and rows of ambulances, fire trucks, law enforcement... the destruction of the orphanage would have many long-term effects that went far beyond today's upset, and the loss of Miki. It would take months, perhaps years, to rebuild the orphanage... that being if the city even found it a worthwhile project to fund. All the children would have to be deported to the nearest orphanage, which was miles away, much farther than a walk's distance away from Tatsumi Port Island. After all he and the other children had been through, now this had come along, stealing yet more from the very little they had left.
"All right," The man's gruff voice reobtained Natsuo's attention, encouraging him to look up. Sure enough, sitting there upright in the stretcher was Shinji, his face half-obscured by the breathing apparatus they had attached to his mouth. "Here he is."
Natsuo could not bring himself to say anything extensive. "You doing okay?"
The brunette looked away for a moment - his body sagged as if to sigh and his hand went up to the mask, pawing at it with a look that betrayed his vexation.
"I'll leave you two at it. We'll release him when we're about to leave."
"Thanks." The darker of the brunettes manuevered his way into the back of the ambulance, sitting alongside the stretcher and making himself as comfortable as was possible on such a hard surface. "Hah, you look thrilled."
Shinji took this taunt as incentive to grimace and peel the apparatus away from his nose and mouth, tossing it aside. "Stupid dickheads wouldn't let me take it off." But however strong his words, it was easy to tell that the smoke inhalation had hindered his ability to speak. His voice was rougher, more hoarse, but less so than it had been when he and Akihiko first escaped from the building. Chances are, he would be better in a few days.
"...So he hates me, huh."
It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement.
Natsuo sighed, pulled his legs up against himself to wrap his arms loosely around them; "You know he doesn't mean that, Shinji."
The younger brunette smiled bitterly and looked off to the distance.
"He's devastated right now. You know how important Miki was to him. To both of you... Miki was special. As much as you hurt, imagine how Aki must feel. His feelings are just out of control. He doesn't hate you. After everything, how could he hate you?"
If his words served as any comfort to Shinji, the boy did not say.
۞
There were many times that Akihiko had come to the riverbank in the past. When he got in a fight with Shinji or one of the other foster children, he would come here; when he had a bad dream, rather than wake up his sister or Satoru-san, he would come and sit here and watch the moonlight play off of the water's gleaming surface. The burble of the river was soothing to him, somehow. Gave him something to focus on aside from the silence. He would try and inspect his reflection, too... the odd distortions created by the moving surface had always served to amuse him... but today, it's charm was useless to comfort him.
Everything hurt. His lungs hurt, his head hurt, his eyes, his throat. Most of all, his heart... hurt. It was strange to think, but never had he felt this way before, as if something was burning itself through his chest, into him, a forever stinging agony that could not be alleviated by any physical means. His fingers clawed at his chest through the worn fabric of his shirt; he wanted to tear it out of him. But even then, he knew that it would not help.
It was scarred into him forever. For as long as he lived, he would have to bear this pain. This pain was all he had left in Miki's memory. He still couldn't believe it... she had been taken away from him, and left in her place this gaping hole that nothing could fill.
He thought he knew what it felt like to lose something back when Hideharu died. The in the days that followed, no matter how happy he was, a part of him was always silenced and cold. He was numb. He could not realize the pain of losing the life of someone close to him, and he thought that was what it meant to grieve.
But he knew, now. It was so much worse than that. This is what loss truly felt like.
His eyes brimmed with tears once more at the thought, tears he thought he had run out of by now. ...Why had this happened? Why did she have to die? Couldn't he have done more? Something, anything... if he had died alongside her, if he could do nothing more than that, at least it would have been more than bearing witness to it...?
Would dying have atoned for it? And if not, would dying now at least serve to free him from the eternal hurt that his sister's loss had torn in him? Right now, he would have loved nothing more than to see her again. She would have known how to cheer him up. She was always happy, and that made him happy, too. She was always so bright and cheerful...
"Hey." The single word that interrupted his many thoughts served to startle him. He sniffled rather loudly and tried to wipe away any traces of the tears that stained his face. "It's getting late. You should come back. They're deciding where we'll stay for the night."
"I don't want to go back." He clenched his fists, releasing them again. For a moment, he stared down at his fingers as he flexed them in and out... grasping for something that was not there. "There's nothing to go back to."
He heard shifting in the grass. Akihiko could feel the presence of Shinji beside him; they weren't close enough to touch, but he was close enough to feel the air that the boy displaced with his movements. "Here. I brought you some food and milk." The smell forced his eyes over to see what the brunette was offering, and just as he said, there was a steaming mug of thick, cream-topped milk with one of the larger rolls of bread. He hadn't so much as sniffed a bit of food since he was pulled from the orphanage, nor had he drank anything - his body craved sustinence, however much he refused to give it any.
But he still had enough will to reject it. "I don't want it."
"You need to eat, Aki." The boy's frustration was clear in his voice, although subdued. When the lighter haired of the two only folded his arms, resting them atop his legs and burying his face in them, Shinji sighed and didn't prompt him further. "...I'm sure you don't care to hear me say this, but... I know how you feel."
"No, you don't," He hissed between his teeth.
"When Hideharu died, I kept thinking... I should have done something more. He wouldn't have died if I had run out there when I had the chance." He shook his head, glaring like the memory had hurt him. "But, really, what if I had done things different, and he still died? Would I still think I could do more? What if I got myself killed in the process - would that have made things any better than what they were now?" When Akihiko remained silent, he went on, "...No one can tell you if doing things different would mean that anything changed. We can't go back and change it. Life goes on, anyway..."
"Shut up!" The youngest of the boys felt tears burn against his eyelids again. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"
"You know, she was always so happy... it was like, you couldn't do a damn thing wrong in her eyes. I bet if she was here to pat us on the shoulder and tell us that we did our best, that she was just happy that we were all right, she would do it..." The words came so agonized from his throat. "It's so unfair, isn't it...? She had something to live for. She meant so much to us, and yet we couldn't..." He clenched his fists. "Why did it happen to her...?"
"Shut up! It's your fault this happened! It's your fault that she's-!"
Akihiko stood up from his place with a start, his whole body tense with the flood of hysterics and resentment that streamed through him. But what he hadn't expected to do was accidentally kick over the mug of steaming milk in his rush of anger; the substance fell from the cup, splattering and searing the brunette who had been seated beside him.
Shinji gave no indication of his pain aside from a grimace, as much from shock as it was from pain. Akihiko's words caught in his throat. He realized, for just an instant, exactly what it was that he was doing. Shinji had saved his life... he was genuinely concerned for him, his welfare, and all Akihiko had done in return was hurt him.
But he was angry. He was angry because Shinji was right. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, he was completely helpless to change what had happened...
The guilt that consumed him in that one moment was enough to release the tears from his eyes, once more streaming past his cheeks, but he made no sound that betrayed his fit of upset; the silence was staggering as neither party spoke, lost for words.
"...I'm sorry." Shinji's voice croaked, quieted by the current of wind. He lifted the hand he used to clutch at his scalded arm, gazing at the burns on his flesh. "I knew if you went back in there... that it was too late to save her. You would have died for nothing..."
His voice wavered, that gradual breaking down that preluded tears.
"If both of you died, I... I would have lost everything. I never wanted to feel like that again..." His body convulsed, forcing something mimicking laughter from his lips. "But look at what happened. I don't blame you for hating me. I know... Miki was all you had. Now that she's gone, you must feel the same way I always did, and I..." He grabbed a fistful of his own hair, doing all he could not to cry out. Instead, his voice fell so hushed that he could barely hear himself mutter, "Why the fuck wasn't it me...?"
Akihiko couldn't breathe. Miki had been... everything, to him.
The tears would never stop. They would never stop, and she would never come back.
Akihiko could not prevent himself from degenerating to crying for the third time that day. And Shinji, listless, with nothing more to say, lifted again to his feet and left.