Hello, all. I'd like to begin this chapter with an apology. This epilogue took me months to write. I didn't think it would take me nearly as long as it ended up taking, so I'm sorry for making you all wait as long as I did. My life sort of exploded in my face, but I promise you all I never once forgot about the final installment of Lunar Eclipse! ^-^
Anyway, here it is (finally), and I sincerely hope that you all enjoy it.
(Author's Note: The funeral in this epilogue is a Christian funeral. As with the Westernized culture, I did not want to do a traditional Japanese funeral an injustice by writing it poorly, so I wrote what I knew. Thank-you for your understanding).
Lunar Eclipse
Epilogue
Tsukishima's rib cage hurt like hell.
The pain was excruciating, originating in the wound itself and radiating into his chest and abdomen - a sharp, crippling pain, pulsing in his side with each heartbeat. Every breath was a chore; his lungs burned with each intake of air, and his broken rib ached each time he tried to move. Whether he was sitting upright, shifting his weight in bed, or simply drawing in another breath, any time he tried to do anything on his own, Tsukishima's broken body was sure to protest.
Well, it certainly could be worse, he mused sarcastically as his mother helped him get into a pair of suit pants, I could be dead. His use of the word "dead" brought up all the grief from his older brother's overdose, and what he expected to be mild amusement at his morbidity instead turned into the sharp pangs of familial loss. He grimaced.
"Okay, let's try standing up," Amaya said as she knelt on the floor at his feet. She'd taken a few seconds to get the pants around his ankles. Tsukishima was already wearing his dress shirt, since a nurse had come in earlier to handle his IV line as Amaya guided his arms through the appropriate holes as painlessly as possible. His right sleeve had been neatly folded up to his elbow to avoid getting tangled with the IV, and his tie hung loose around his neck.
If Tsukishima was being honest with himself, he felt absolutely humiliated. A few days ago he was at his peak, jumping and blocking and reading his opponents. Now, less than a week later, he needed his mother's help just to dress himself. He felt helpless, which he guessed was accurate, although it didn't make him feel any better to admit it. His mother replied as if reading his mind.
"I know being like this is going to be tough for you, honey," She stood from her kneeling position on the floor and took his hands. "But you know that it doesn't matter to me how much help you need - I'm just glad I still have you with me."
Tsukishima could feel the deeper tones of sadness lying underneath the loving ring to her voice, like a soft vibration in the center of his chest, and he knew she was thinking of Akiteru. She had been what Tsukishima could only describe as overwhelming the last day and a half, and it frustrated him to no end. Overprotective to a fault, she pounced like a tiger whenever it was even insinuated that something could possibly harm him any further, showering him with concern that did more to annoy him than it did to actually help. What frustrated him even more was that he knew he couldn't be mad at her for it. He could tell by the look in her eyes when she brushed her fingers through his thick blond waves, every service she did for him reminded her of what more she could have lost. Seeing her work so hard to push through all the grief of Akiteru's death only to see her other son suffer made Tsukishima feel guilty.
Amaya sat down on the edge of the bed next to Tsukishima on his left side, looping her arm around his waist and letting him lean into her shoulder. She took the pants from the floor and pulled them up around his legs before handing him the waistband.
"Okay, here we go."
They stood on the count of three.
"One, two... three!"
As soon as Tsukishima threw his weight onto his feet, he felt the pain in his chest and abdomen surge as the strain tore at his stitches. He cried out before he could get his balance, and his knees buckled underneath him. Amaya caught him as he fell, holding him up as he struggled through his pain.
"Just breathe, baby," she cooed as she shouldered the bulk of her son's weight, "Just breathe."
Despite breathing - gasping - as his mother instructed him to, Tsukishima's pain wouldn't lessen. He felt like his lungs were on fire, every muscle in his core screaming for him to rest. Pretty soon he began to lose awareness, his head swimming as his surroundings started to vanish before his weary eyes. Consciousness fading quickly, he somehow managed to pull the pants over his hips just as his vision became spotted with black fuzz.
"Kei, are you with me?" Amaya asked with a note of marked concern as she gently lowered him back onto the bed. Tsukishima could feel himself slowly return to normal as he relaxed back into a semi-comfortable sitting position, his pain receding back into the ever-present ache that had plagued him before.
"...yeah..." His voice came out closer to a squeak than something recognizably human, like a mouse in a far away room. It was humiliating, and he hated it.
"Take it easy," his mother was saying beside him, "You're allowed to need help, honey."
Tsukishima didn't respond. He wanted today to be over. He didn't want to go to his brother's funeral. He didn't want all his relatives to pat him on the back and tell him how sorry they were that his parents lost their child, and how surprised they were to hear that he'd died, and how pitiful Tsukishima looked sitting there next to his only brother's casket in a fucking wheelchair. They'd feel badly seeing Akiteru, but then they'd see him with his IV pole and his oxygen tank and ask him what happened. His mother would chime in, crying of course, and tell them that her only remaining little boy was shot. They'd respond with such heartfelt concern that even his father's stone cold exterior would melt like an ice cube on summer concrete, but it would all be fake. This funeral was going to be a fool's parade of self-righteous compassion and false sympathy. Let me heal in peace, he would tell them, shutting down their self-fulfilling conversation before it began.
And that wasn't even taking into consideration his teammates and classmates, who would undoubtedly show up and see him at his worst. His teammates he wasn't really worried about; they'd already seen him unconscious in the hospital - Hell, Sugawara saw him nearly bleed to death on the floor of a convenience store - but his classmates were a different story. He was the quiet kid, the smart one who was generally known for not giving a damn what the rest of the world thought of him. Maybe it was pretentious, but Tsukishima wanted it that way. He liked that his classmates saw him as this strange creature who mustn't be messed with; it was their fear of the unknown that kept them from annoying him, and it also served as the fodder that shored up his fragile pride. To let them see him at his lowest point was to let them know he was human - it was like giving them an invitation to peek into his closest self, and the mere thought of it made him furious.
Amaya watched the intense look on her son's face evolve as she continued to dress him, worried not only about his health, but about what he was thinking and feeling as well. She saw his expression, a confusing mix of anger and pain, grow in intensity until she felt it would completely take over his face like a demonic possession, and decided to say something about it.
"You're quiet this morning, Kei. What's on your mind?"
"I'm sitting in a hospital and you're dressing me for my brother's funeral," Tsukishima muttered, avoiding eye contact, "I wonder what could be on my mind." Amaya's face waned into a disappointed frown.
"Kei, that was uncalled for. I love you. I'm worried about you." Amaya's hand was halfway to her son's suit pants before Tuskishima's own hand stopped it firmly in its place.
"I can do it myself." He buttoned and zipped his fly, taking another shot at dodging a conversation about his emotions.
"Where's dad?"
"Your father's at the funeral home already. He left earlier; he wanted to make sure everything was ready."
"He can't just let them do their jobs?" Tsukishima scoffed as Amaya reached up to his neck and began securing his tie. Frustrated, Tsukishima wrenched it from her hands and tied it himself. Amaya sat back on the bed, seemingly defeated.
"Kei, that's not fair. You know how your father gets when he's emotional: He needs to control things. This isn't any easier on him than it is on you."
"My father can walk and breathe and dress himself. He isn't in pain every time he twitches a muscle. Is it supposed to hurt this much? Did they say why my morphine dose is so low?"
"It's your liver, honey," Amaya responded as she helped ease him back into a reclining position on the bed. She raised the headboard and propped a few pillows behind the small of her son's back as he lowered himself painfully onto the mattress. "Because it was damaged by the bullet, it can't filter your blood as efficiently, so they're afraid if they give you the normal dose the toxins in the medication will shut it down."
Kei turned away from his mother's gaze, focusing instead on the different tubes and wires wrapped around his body. Only the heart monitor, IV line, and oxygen tank were left. As he talked to his parents yesterday while the nurse readied him for his chest tube removal, he discovered that he had apparently also been on a ventilator immediately after his surgery. He imagined, for a moment, what it would have felt like to be awake while a plastic tube pumped oxygen down his windpipe and into his lungs, forcing him to breathe without any control - conscious or subconscious.
It would feel like choking, he determined, internally cringing at the thought. Looking around at all the equipment around him, equipment meant only to keep him alive, he felt nothing but embarrassment. Everything around him - the heart monitor, the IV, the oxygen - was an external display of his current weaknesses. It was like having all of his shortcomings on full display, ready for anyone to waltz in and look upon them. He hated it.
"Kei," Amaya tried to return to the topic at hand, her eyebrows raised in concern. "I really am worried about you."
Tsukishima remained silent.
"You know, contrary to what you might believe, you are allowed to have feelings." The exhausted teenager snapped his head up in response, not expecting such a direct statement from the woman known more for gentle comfort than straightforward truths. She sat back down on the edge of her son's bed, running her hands through the familiar blond hair, and spoke in a soft voice.
"Honey, you were shot. You were injured very badly - to the point that you almost died. You're in constant pain, you can't play volleyball to de-stress, and to top it all off, you lost your only brother without being given a chance to make peace with him, or even say goodbye. That would put a substantial strain on anyone - especially a teenager. Everything you're feeling is valid."
Tsukishima met his mother's eyes and saw the honesty shining at their surface. He knew his mother was easier on him than he was on himself - it was natural. Mothers were supposed to think their little babies were the superstars of the world. It didn't matter what he'd done or didn't do, or what he deserved - Amaya Tsukishima would still believe that nothing was his fault, and that all his anger was okay. He bet even the shooter's mother told her son the same thing, despite the fact that he'd nearly murdered a high school teenager.
But how could he explain this anger to Amaya? His mother had always been good at handling emotions - it was a wonder neither he nor Akiteru inherited any of it. It had always been so simple for her to spill her guts, explain what was bothering her, so that talking it through would help take the edge off the pain. How could he explain to her that putting words to feelings - swallowing his pride - wasn't nearly as easy for him?
"Mom... I... I can't," he said, his voice barely more audible than a whisper, "I can't talk about it now. I just... I can't." Amaya sighed, understanding completely.
"Of course, baby, today's going to be tough. You need time to process. Let's finish getting you ready and meet your father at the funeral home." Kei nodded in silent agreement as Amaya continued to ready her son for his brother's funeral, all the while steadying herself for the emotional roller coaster that she was about to endure.
Yamaguchi counted his freckles as he brushed his teeth in his bathroom mirror before his childhood friend's funeral. It wasn't like he hadn't counted them before. He'd done it loads of times, especially when he was in middle school, because the other boys teased him about them, and he was self-conscious. Sometimes he did it to pass the time as he waited with his mom at the bank, staring at his reflection in his phone screen. Sometimes he did it out of habit as he brushed his unruly head of thick, brown hair. But today, he did it deliberately. He needed to keep his mind off everything that had gone wrong in the last few days. Tsukki's injury, Akiteru's death, and - maybe the most frightening of all - his own part in what was probably his best friend's darkest tragedy.
He'd been thinking about it ever since he first saw Tsukki awake in the hospital Saturday afternoon. His dad had just come in to apologize (a rare sight in and of itself), and the two shared a tender moment in honor of their loss. Yamaguchi couldn't stop staring at them thinking: If only you knew... If only you knew that this was all my fault... The guilt was eating him alive.
He thought about Sugawara, too. He thought about how he'd spilled the beans in the children's waiting room the night of Tsukki's surgery, and how Sugawara was so sure that his friend would forgive him. But Yamaguchi wasn't so sure. As long as he'd known Tsukki, he'd never done anything this serious. Sure, the sarcastic blocker forgave him for that time he slept over at their house, got spooked by the furnace in the middle of the night, and accidentally knocked over and broke one of their family picture frames, but that was nothing compared to what he'd done this time.
He killed Tsukki's brother. It was all his fault. For something so serious, Yamaguchi wouldn't dare to ask forgiveness; even the mere question would be an insult.
But still... that didn't change the fact that Tsukki needed to know what happened. He needed to know that if Yamaguchi's cowardice hadn't gotten the best of him, Akiteru would be alive.
Yamaguchi took a tiny paper cup from a stack on the edge of the sink and filled it with water from the tap. He put the cup to his lips and, closing his eyes, took a small swig, swishing the water around his mouth as he considered what he would say. Tsukki was a straightforward and logical person, so he would simply say it like it is.
No embellishments.
No excuses.
Exactly what happened.
Then he would leave himself at the mercy of his best friend's grieving rage. Tsukki would release all the emotion he'd stored up inside himself and while the pain of losing his only close friend would be unbearable, at least Yamaguchi would no longer have to live with the guilt of Akiteru's death hanging on his conscience.
He spit the foaming mix of water, toothpaste, and saliva into the sink as his fear of the inevitable encounter overtook his mind. Yamaguchi looked up from the cream-colored bowl and stared, losing himself in the intensity of his own gaze as he felt his chest tighten and his stomach churn at the thought of the worst case scenario. Rarely had he heard Tsukki raise his voice in anger, and trying to imagine the teen directing that anger at him sent a wave of goosebumps cascading over his skin.
After several minutes of mental preparation he decided: This time, he would face his fears. This time he would be a man.
Tsukishima felt his first wave of embarrassment hit the instant his mother opened the door to the funeral home. It was ridiculous - the viewing hadn't even started yet - but he still felt the surge of heat flush his face. There would be people there, even if they weren't there right now, and they would see him at his weakest. He couldn't get the thought out of his head.
It was always puzzling how much funeral homes reminded Tsukishima of a senile old lady's mansion. As soon as Amaya pushed open the heavy oak front door and wheeled him inside, Tsukishima couldn't help but stare at how busy the wallpaper looked. It was a burnt orange color, covered with far too many ornate brown/gold fleur-de-lis. It was striped, too, with columns of those designs, each about the size of his fist, positioned within their own little lines. And if that wasn't enough, as the pair progressed through the building, Tsukishima noticed that each and every wall was adorned with large, framed paintings of serene forest lakes and bright sunlit skies - things that were supposed to make loved ones feel at peace.
I suppose that makes sense, he thought morbidly as he fidgeted with a button on his sleeve, it's the least they can do, considering you're paying them several thousand dollars to spend the day with your dead loved one and a bunch of crying family members.
Amaya pushed Tsukishima around the ground floor of the funeral home, giving the tired young man the opportunity to see all the lonely extra rooms in the process. He couldn't help but think they looked ornate to the point of being comical, filled with side tables, vases with large, wide-leaf plants, and stiff armchairs gathering dust that served no other purpose than to be gawked at as the line of grieving visitors shuffled through.
It wasn't long before the mother/son pair reached the main parlor, where Yoshirou sat in the front row of open chairs, waiting in silence with his son's open casket. At first glance, Tsukishima didn't even recognize the somber image of his father sitting before him - Yoshirou was downcast so little, that anything other than firm rigor was foreign to him. Amaya had hardly pushed Tsukishima's wheelchair through the archway before the heavy air hit their lungs, anchoring their breath to the bottom of their stomachs. Amaya's eyes softened at the sight, and she spoke in a gentle voice.
"Yoshirou."
The melody of the way she said his name was like a song that pulled him from the crushing darkness of a bad dream. He stood and turned to her, the expression on his face relaxing from a rigid pain into a soft ache. The handful of steps between them eroded away as he moved toward her, taking her into his embrace and burying his nose in her hair.
"Amaya." He released her, cupped her face in his hands, and gave her a small kiss on the forehead. "How was your morning?" Amaya's answer was half-hearted and her voice sounded strained.
"Fine. It was fine." Their conversation fell into a heavy silence. "How was yours?"
"Fine."
Tsukishima watched as his parents continued to emotionally tip-toe around each other for the next half hour. Speaking just enough to communicate their basic needs, but never discussing anything deeper, Amaya and Yoshirou spent the remaining time before the viewing on opposite ends of the funeral home. After several agonizing minutes, Amaya excused herself to go use the restroom, leaving Tsukishima with Yoshirou slowly pacing the parlor until she returned. The tension was more uncomfortable for Tsukishima than when the two grieving parents stood arguing in his hospital room. Seeing his father in such a state of disrepair was both embarrassing and pitiful in a way the teen could never hope to describe. True to his nature, however, Yoshirou stayed silent, not saying another word until Amaya returned, even as the viewing began, and friends and family started to turn up.
The Tsukishima family stood in a neat little line to the left of Akiteru's coffin, Yoshirou positioned first, followed by Amaya, and finally with Kei on the end, his wheelchair marking the end of Akiteru's close family like a caboose on the end of a train. He watched the front doors intently as he waited for his brother's close friends and family to wander through. Amaya's mother was the first to arrive, paying her respects to her fallen grandson before making a beeline for her daughter, enveloping her in a tight hug and immediately fawning over Tsukishima. Next, various aunts, uncles, and cousins arrived as well, in addition to both of Yoshirou's parents, who came in about fifteen minutes later.
Small crowds of Akiteru's college friends and colleagues from work came through every once in a while, expressing their sorrows to Tsukishima and his family before leaving to mingle with the other grieving attendees. A few of them stopped at the end of the line and did double takes as they passed Tsukishima. The most common question they asked was what happened. I was shot in a convenience store robbery, he told them, over and over again, rapidly growing weary of speaking the same words multiple times in a row. The second most common question was when. The same night my brother died, he answered. More overblown sympathy.
The repetition of it all drove Tsukishima mad over the course of the next hour. Stop caring about me! He wanted to shout, I'm not important. This is my brother's day. It's the last day he will ever have! It belongs to him!
It was in that moment that the rest of the Karasuno team arrived. The third years (plus Ennoshita, Kinnoshita, and Narita) were quiet, and respectful, dressed neatly and appropriately for a funeral. Tanaka and Nishinoya had cleaned up surprisingly well considering the way they normally conducted themselves in public, and Kageyama just looked uncomfortable, endlessly fidgeting with his tie and the buttons on the sleeves of his suit jacket. Hinata stuck by his side, following the setter around like a toddler. Takeda and Coach Ukai stuck around each other as well, though Tsukishima had to admit, seeing his coach in something other than sweat pants and a t-shirt was an odd sight. He didn't even know Ukai owned a suit.
But what really shook Tsukishima was the sight of his best friend. Yamaguchi looked lost, hiding inside himself, shrinking away from the world around him. In fact, Tsukishima hadn't seen his best friend look that timid since the day they met, when he was surrounded by bullies and about to cry. Tsukishima would normally have chalked it up to grief, but the freckle-faced first year didn't simply look sad, he looked restless. He wasn't just in mourning, there was an air of anxiety about him that, try as he might, Tsukishima just couldn't help but notice. Unable to escape from his family at the present moment, he made a mental note to catch Yamaguchi alone later. Before he knew it, his volleyball team had made their way through the long line of mourners to meet him.
Ukai and Takeda met him first. They both bowed deeply to his parents, expressing their sorrow for Akiteru's passing shortly before moving on to address Tsukishima.
"How are you feeling?" the literature teacher asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Tsukishima figured that as much as he was getting sick of that question, there were better uses for his limited energy supply than to waste it arguing with a teacher. However, that didn't mean he had to be entirely truthful.
"Fine," he lied, "It's better today." Takeda smiled, believing the teen's statement.
"I'm glad."
"We miss you on the court," Ukai chimed in with a smirk on his face, "Our defense isn't the same without you."
Little by little, the rest of the team started to filter through the line. Daichi, Asahi, and Sugawara met him first, each expressing their condolences and making sure he was alright. Sugawara took particular interest in Tsukishima's answers; he felt like some sort of experimental specimen, like the third year was studying him. Tanaka and Nishinoya followed, each doing his best to make Tsukishima smile despite the situation, with no avail. Hinata and Kageyama bumbled through next, followed by Ennoshita, Kinnoshita, and Narita, each one apologizing for the unbridled energy of their diminutive middle blocker and his trouble-making setter.
Yamaguchi held up the rear. As he came through the line, he only barely showed civility toward Tsukishima's parents, hardly speaking above a whisper and bowing weakly. Tsukishima tried to get his attention as he passed and the team left the line to go mingle, but for the most part he refused to make eye contact. It was only at the very last second that Yamaguchi glanced back, gazing at him with a look that oozed one thing: Guilt.
There's definitely something wrong with Yamaguchi, Tsukishima confirmed within himself as he watched his team disperse around the room.
As the viewing wore on, Tsukishima became increasingly aware of the throbbing pain in his side, and he tried every mental technique he knew to will it away, but without result. Knowing that there was nothing he could do about it, he continued to put on a brave face for his friends and family. As he was doing so, Kuroo and Bokuto showed up, laughing and teasing him at first, but quickly showing genuine concern as the conversation went on. He talked a little with groups of Akiteru's college buddies as they continued to trickle in, quickly burying all the painful memories of his brother their stories dug up.
At one point, even Kiku made an appearance, taking care to personally express how relieved she was that Tsukishima was alive. He could see how awkward the conversation was for her - after all, it's not like they even really knew each other. They'd only exchanged a few passing words before a maniac burst into the store with a gun, but Tsukishima could read the distress all over her face. She really was worried that he'd died in surgery that night. Maybe she was afraid he hadn't even made it to the hospital, that he'd passed away bloodied and in pain en route in the ambulance. For the first time, he wondered what it must have been like on the outside, not only for Sugawara, but for this perfect stranger. Would he have had the courage to do what she did, call the shots that ultimately saved the life of someone he didn't even know? Probably not. In awe of what she'd done for him, Tsukishima thanked her.
It wasn't long until the large group settled down, the minister approached the podium, and the visiting family and friends took their seats in the chairs that had been arranged for them. Amaya and Yoshirou sat in the front row with Tsukishima's grandparents, specifically positioning themselves so that Amaya could sit in the aisle seat beside her younger son's wheelchair. As Tsukishima looked around, he noticed that his team had taken their seats directly behind them, with Kuroo, Bokuto, and various Nekoma and Fukurodani players sitting behind them. Kiku sat on the other side of the aisle near the middle, shuffling uncomfortably amidst a group of older ladies Tsukishima vaguely recognized to be relatives of his. After a few moments, the minister began to speak.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today not to mourn a death, but to celebrate a life: the life of our dear friend and brother, Akiteru Tsukishima. We have gathered to support his loving family as they enter these trying times, and through these tribulations we hold fast in our hearts one undeniable truth: That no life cut short is ever a life wasted. The kindness of one man touches so many others, and though he passed away young, Akiteru has made a positive impact on every life that crossed his own."
Tsukishima could feel his breath stop in the back of his throat as his chest tightened. He promised himself he wasn't going to cry. Once in the hospital was enough. He would not embarrass himself again.
"As much as Akiteru's life was a happy one, I'm not going to stand here today and tell you that you will not feel the pain of his passing. His absence has left a hole in the lives of all those who knew him. But as Jesus himself said, 'Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.' And so I tell you that it's okay to cry, for it is our emotions that make us human."
That seemed to flip the switch for most of the mourners, the catalyst that fueled their tears. Tsukishima could hear not only his parents, but also his team behind him, sniffling along with the minister's sermon. There were only two voices from his team he recognized were openly crying: One was Yamaguchi's, since he was the only one of the group who'd known his brother personally for several years, and the second one was Sugawara's, since he was the one present for Akiteru's death, and probably felt at least somewhat responsible. Tsukishima refused to turn around to look at them. He was afraid he might meet them eye to eye.
"At this time I would like to turn the stand over to Yoshirou Tsukishima, who will be delivering the eulogy."
Tsukishima watched as the minister stepped down from the podium just as his father stood from his chair. He took a few moments to clear his throat and adjust his tie before taking the handful of steps to the microphone. Once there he adjusted it as well, and took a slightly crumpled and folded sheet of paper from his inside suit pocket. He looked down at the page and began to read.
"For those of you who don't know," he began with a note of thinly concealed sadness, alternating between making eye contact with the audience and staring down at the words printed neatly on the page, "Akiteru was my son. And today... is the day I tell him goodbye."
Yoshirou took in a sharp breath, one the microphone only barely picked up, one that indicated he was desperately holding back tears.
"I should begin by saying that I am not an emotional man. Growing up I very quickly learned that a bleeding heart would never get you very far in this life, only hard work and raw ambition would do that - I simply never had much care for it. So you can imagine my surprise the day my beautiful wife Amaya told me she was pregnant with our first child. Of course I loved my wife in my own way (I still do), but I spent those next several months wondering how I would love a child. If I can be honest for a moment, my biggest fear was that I would be unable to love a child the way children are meant to be loved. I was afraid there wasn't enough room in my heart." Yoshirou paused, turned to Amaya, and gave her a weak, but honest smile.
"Reality soon proved me wrong, as the day quickly arrived when she gave birth to Akiteru. I will never forget the first time I laid eyes on my eldest son. Upon Amaya's request, the nurse took him from my wife's arms and placed him in my own, and it was a flood of the most intense emotion I had ever felt. It was from that moment onward I knew that this tiny creature, this brand new human being I would call my son, deserved every last iota of love I had to give him. I had been given several titles in my time, especially in the world of business, but that day I added to my repertoire the one I'm most proud of - father."
"Akiteru was the most patient and gentle child I had ever known - even as an infant he rarely cried. Every day I spent watching him learn and grow was the most fulfilling day of my life. He made friends easily, he was always willing to give what he had to the other kids, especially those from families less fortunate than ours, and he loved even the smallest living thing. In fact, Amaya always had to distract him upstairs whenever we had the house exterminated, because he cried the first time he found out we were killing all the bugs in the house."
This little anecdote earned a slight chuckle from the audience. Yoshirou looked up at them, chuckled painfully, and continued.
"Despite all of this, there was no one he loved more than his little brother, Kei. At the time of the overdose that tragically claimed his life, Akiteru was twenty-two years old. He had both a part time job and a full load of college classes, but he still made time for Kei. Despite their rocky past, Akiteru never failed to take time out of his busy schedule to come to Kei's volleyball games, cheering him on all the way to Nationals. In fact, as different as my two sons were, volleyball was not only the one thing they could connect on, but it was probably also the first passion Akiteru ever had. He spent hours with Kei teaching him everything he knew, even when it meant giving up what little free time he had to do so."
This story drew a handful of wistful stares from Akiteru's volleyball team.
"As Akiteru grew from a child to a young adult, I almost couldn't believe my eyes - Where had the time gone? But it was well worth it, because I could tell even as early as his first day of high school, Akiteru would become a far greater man than I ever could be. I watched him as he discovered girls, the first time he had his heart broken, and as he began to think about who he would become. Words cannot describe how proud I was the day he left for college. All his bags were loaded in his car, and he stood there on our front step with his car keys in his hand and a wide grin across his face and I knew: I could finally call my little boy an adult. I looked him in the eyes and I said, 'Akiteru, your mother and I have taught you everything we can to survive in the adult world. We won't be there with you to help you make the important decisions anymore. I can only hope you've learned what you need. Akiteru... today you become a man.'"
Yoshirou paused again, closed his eyes, and covered his face with his hand for a few seconds before he continued.
"You see news stories about shootings and overdoses, but you never stop to think that someday it might be your son whose face winds up on Channel Four. Thursday night I learned that lesson; I took my blessings for granted and lost someone very precious to me. Akiteru's stay on this earth may have been brief, but it was not in vain, because I can look out into this room and know that the reason you're all here today is because my son's life somehow touched yours. So for that I would like to thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to honor my son and my family's struggle."
At this moment, Yoshirou turned to the open coffin, his softened eyes gazing woefully at the body within it.
"So with that... It's time for this chapter of our lives to come to a close. Goodbye, Akiteru. You can never know how much I love you." When Yoshirou finished speaking, the aura of the room settled into a thick heartache. As Kei watched his father finish his speech, he could see every pair of eyes in the room focus on the aging businessman, picking him apart, examining his sorrow. Little did Kei know, there was one mourner who would stand out from the rest.
Neal Myers had been a businessman since the day he graduated college. It was just after he got home from his graduation ceremony that he received a call confirming that he'd gotten the job he'd so desperately craved, and he'd been working there ever since. Now, thirty-five years later, his board of directors had chosen him to succeed his previous boss as the CEO of the company. It was a position he'd worked hard for his entire adult life, and the fact that he had finally reached the point when he could enjoy the fruits of his labor was something he was proud of.
Yoshirou had come into his employ sixteen years ago after a spectacular interview and a resume chocked full of experience, and Neal never had a problem with him. Yoshirou was a steadfast, hardworking, and logical man, and he climbed through the corporate ranks quickly, making his way to the top the Japanese branch of the company.
That was why, when Yoshirou confirmed his attendance for the dinner, Neal was certain that he would pull through for them. There was never a doubt that Yoshirou understood the importance of the dinner, but surely he had to know that such a last minute cancellation would reflect extremely poorly on his record with the company. When Yoshirou explained that there had been a death in his family, Neal was almost too stunned to process what he'd said. When Yoshirou further clarified that the death had not been a distant relative like Neal had assumed, but his own son, Neal couldn't even begin to describe the guilt that flooded his senses. He knew that as soon as Yoshirou hung up on him, he needed to, at the very least, show up to the funeral to show the young man respect and to make his apologies to his valued employee.
That's why he'd hopped on the first flight to Japan he could find after the dinner and made his way to Yoshirou's hometown as quickly as he could. His Japanese was stiff, but he knew just enough to communicate with the handful of Japanese employees he met with on a semi-regular basis. As he bumbled through Torono, Neal was soon able to locate the funeral home listed in the obituary he'd dug up online. It had taken him a while (he'd taken a wrong turn at the high school twice), but he was lucky enough to show up just in time to hear Yoshirou's eulogy speech.
When Neal entered the room, he could feel a ghostly silence haunting the air, filling his lungs, practically choking him. Embarrassed, both for his tardiness and his reaction to Yoshirou's absence from the dinner, he quickly slipped into the back row of chairs without making eye contact with either Yoshirou's family, or any of the other mourners. From this vantage point, he listened eagerly to all that his employee had to say.
Yoshirou didn't wait long to leave after the eulogy. Once he finished speaking, and the minister crossed the front of the room to take his place, announcing that it was now time for the procession to the cemetery, Yoshirou brushed Amaya's shoulder as a signal, and the couple left the room with Kei in tow.
Yoshirou didn't stop moving until the three of them were safely in an unused room in a remote corner of the funeral home. Yoshirou gestured in front of him with his hand, allowing his wife and son in front of him. Once inside, Yoshirou closed the door. Very slowly, Amaya watched her husband's facade crumble in front of her as his expression melted, his stern, business-like demeanor disintegrating into shambles. He could hardly keep himself on his feet as he stumbled, his knees weak, hands shaking, as he reached for the comforting touch of his loving wife. Amaya caught him just as it seemed like he would collapse and guided him to a plush-looking couch in the corner.
"It's okay..." Amaya muttered, gently pressing her husband's face into her chest as he shook, "I love you... It's okay..."
In that moment Yoshirou broke. He wept loudly, twisting Amaya's blouse in his white-knuckled fists as his tears gushed down the sides of his face, dripping from his chin like a faucet. Kei watched his father fall to pieces in his mother's arms as it sunk in that Akiteru Tsukishima would never come back.
It wasn't long before the door clicked. They snapped to attention when they saw Neal peek his head through the crack in the open door, his gaze shifting around to all three of them. He slowly stepped through it and entered the room, straightening his tie and averting his eyes in a move of awkward nervousness. He cleared his throat.
"Ahmm... Tsukishima?" A startled look flashed over Yoshirou's face a split second before he dug a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and swiftly cleaned his face, standing from the couch and turning to his boss a few seconds later. The two crossed the room to meet each other, and Neal reached out to shake his hand. Yoshirou took it with false confidence.
"Mr. Myers," he stuttered, "What a... surprise. I thought you were in New York." Neal purposefully met Yoshirou's eye, doing his best to convey the air of an important businessman and not reveal how supremely silly he felt for his actions days prior.
"I was. Once you told me about your son I felt it was appropriate to fly over to express my condolences."
Yoshirou wanted to thank him for his concern, but the words got stuck in his throat. Who was he, the head of the company, to fly across the world just to go to his son's funeral? Upon thinking about it, Yoshirou supposed he was still upset about the way Neal acted when he first told his boss about the unexpected tragedy. Important matters aside, to react to the loss of an employee's child with such a casual indifference was hardly professional, and if Yoshirou was being honest, it damaged his view of Neal both as a person and as his superior.
"Look, Tsukishima," Neal began, interrupting Yoshirou's thoughts, "I realize the way I acted a few days ago was... less than professional. I made split-second assumptions about you and your family that I should never have made, and as someone who's never even been married, much less had kids, I could never imagine the pain of losing a child to something like this, so... you have my sincerest apologies. I trust this incident doesn't damage our working relationship." The pain on Yoshirou's face receded, just a little.
"Absolutely, sir." he said, "I appreciate your taking the time to do this. It means a lot." Neal nodded.
"Of course." He turned his attention to Kei, "And who's this strapping young man?" Kei tried hard to suppress a slight scowl.
"This is my younger son, Kei," Yoshirou introduced, placing a hand on the back of Kei's wheelchair in the process. Neal flashed the teen a smile. He took note of the fact that the boy was in a wheelchair, complete with IV pump and oxygen, and remembered overhearing a few of the other mourners mumbling to themselves about what had happened. It had apparently been all over the news - the night the Tsukishimas lost their older son, their younger one got trapped in a convenience store robbery. The young man was apparently only mere days out of life-saving surgery for a gunshot wound. He couldn't imagine the kid was any older than a teenager. In a way, it both saddened him and made him uncomfortable. Until the eulogy, Neal hadn't even known Tsukishima had another son.
"Well, how do you do, Kei?" He reached out and shook his hand, "Neal Myers. I'm your dad's boss."
"Hello." Kei responded, quiet, yet polite. Neal turned back to Yoshirou, clapping him on the back.
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree - he's the spitting image of you, Tsukishima." Yoshirou managed to awkwardly thank him.
"Anyway, the minister is looking for you. They're ready to process to the cemetery."
"Thank-you, sir, we'll be along in a minute or two." Neal nodded and left the room.
"Tsukki."
Tsukishima and Amaya, halfway out the funeral home front door, stopped in their tracks as Kei turned his head to the voice of his best friend behind him. Amaya gave her son a concerned look, but Tsukishima waved her off.
"They need us outside, Kei."
"Just give me a few minutes." Amaya sighed gently, positioned her son's wheelchair so that he was facing Yamaguchi, and joined her husband outside.
"What do you want, Yamaguchi?"
Yamaguchi stood about five feet away from his best friend, afraid to get any closer - it was instinctual. He'll yell at me. He'll never speak to me again. I really screwed up... The guilt and fear tore through his core, shaking him down to the center of his being. If he had a falling out with Tsukishima, the team's balance and cohesiveness would shatter; he'd already seen it with Hinata and Kageyama's fight over the course of the summer. It wasn't until they'd made up and their quick started to work that the team began to fall back into place. But this wasn't just a fight over volleyball - this was somebody's life. He kept repeating it to himself like a mantra: If I had just told someone... voiced my concern... Akiteru would be alive. It was my cowardice that killed my best friend's brother. Like he'd told himself all morning, he just had to say it, get it out in the open air and let the chips fall where they may.
"I... I have a confession."
Tsukishima's expression took on a look of confusion at Yamaguchi's words. A confession? What kind of confession could he possibly have to make? What could have been so important that he felt the need to interrupt Akiteru's funeral?
"Yamaguchi... What are you talking about?" Yamaguchi clenched his fists as tears started to stream down his face. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this.
"I... I'm so sorry, Tsukki... but...this is all my fault..." Tsukshima cocked his head to the side.
"What's all your fault?" Yamaguchi sniffled as he cried harder, almost unable to speak.
"Akiteru... T-Tsukki, I... I knew! I knew Akiteru was in trouble." He then proceeded to tell Tsukishima the same story he told Sugawara in the waiting room the night of the shooting.
Tsukishima stared at Yamaguchi as he finished, letting the emotions filter through his expression one by one - the anger, the betrayal, the grief. At first, he was incredulous. How could his closest friend do something like this to him? As much as he knew and admired the strength of Yamaguchi's core, he knew that on the surface, the pinch server had a habit of shrinking away from unsure situations. At first, he was angry. If Yamaguchi had just told someone... maybe they wouldn't have to be here, in this situation.
But on the other hand, he knew that Yamaguchi never had any siblings himself, and that as a result, he looked up to Akiteru as a surrogate older brother. Tsukishima knew that he wanted to trust Akiteru. When his brother told him everything would be fine, there was a long-suppressed part of Yamaguchi's childhood that longed for the familial trust he never had. The same childhood instinct that caused me to trust Akiteru the first time, Tsukishima found himself thinking. In a way, he sympathized with Yamaguchi. Akiteru had duped him, too.
"I'm so sorry, Tsukki. I... I wanted to help, but I was afraid. I... I wanted to trust him."
"Yamaguchi, my brother would have continued taking the pills whether you had stumbled across him or not. You remember how he betrayed my trust when we were little. I'm just disappointed he didn't learn from the last time."
"B-but, Tsukki -"
"This isn't your fault, it's his. Taking the pills was his stupid decision. I'm not mad at you. Come on. We need to join my parents outside."
Smiling, Yamaguchi thanked Tsukishima, took the handles of his wheelchair, and pushed him outside to join his family, friends, and the other mourners for the final segment of the funeral.
The wind had picked up by the time the Tsukishima family had reached the cemetery. As Kei felt the huge gusts of wind assault his face, it took him back to the night of the shooting, feeling the wind and the moisture in the air, the heavy promise of rain as he and Sugawara walked to the convenience store and the singular event that would change his life forever. He tensed up and waited for the pain of the memory, and the physical pain that it brought, to pass.
The minister read a couple Bible verses praising the humble virtues of suffering and offering comfort to those in pain as the pallbearers, Yoshirou included, brought Akiteru's coffin from the hearse to the front of the crowd. As they came to a halt by the tombstone, the minister finished speaking, signaling a small choir to sing a soft ballad, one that Amaya had hand chosen the morning before. Their angelic voices continued to ring out into the rainy sky as the coffin was slowly lowered into the grave. The ornate mahogany casket came to rest at the bottom of the grave just as the choir's hymn came to a close, dissolving the moment with a sense of finality. The minister let the silence hang in the air for a pregnant pause before speaking once again.
"It is at this time I would like to invite Akiteru's immediate family to come forward and scatter the first handfuls of earth into the grave. By initiating the covering of the coffin with earth, the Tsukishima family also initiates their healing process, acknowledging that, as the Bible says, we are dust, and to dust we shall return."
The first to toss earth into the grave was Yoshirou. He approached slowly - stiffly - reached into the pile that had been scooped out to dig the hole, and opened his hand over the casket, letting the dirt simply fall into the grave. He refused to make eye contact with anyone, keeping his gaze intently focused on the dirt in his hand and the body of his son encased in front of him.
Amaya pushed Kei over to the grave next. Weeping bitterly, she reached over into the pile of earth and took a handful into her shaking fist. Tears flooding her face, Amaya's agonizing cries could be heard throughout the crowd of mourners. Painfully, she, too let the dirt fall into the grave.
Lastly, with a small bit of assistance from his mother, Kei leaned over and took a handful of earth from the pile himself. He found himself staring down into the grave, but not really seeing it, the heartbreaking image burning at the edges of his vision. His mind was elsewhere - in the yard with his brother bumping a volleyball back and forth with their receives, in his brother's room playing video games as Akiteru frantically reached over to smack Kei's controller, throwing him off enough to win the kart race - but not here. Not at a cemetery, in front of a concrete slab, staring down the maw of an open tomb. It suddenly dawned on him that those memories of his and Akiteru's childhood... those were the only memories he would ever have. This moment... of him here with his brother's resting place... this was the final scene - the final chapter in their story together. It was here that he realized that he'd spent so much time being angry, hateful, that he hadn't given himself time to simply say goodbye. As he turned the dirt over in his clenched fist, he thought back to earlier that morning with his mother, how she'd asked him what was wrong. He didn't have an answer for her then, but he had one now.
"I love him."
Amaya turned to look at her son. Kei refused to look back.
"In answer to your question earlier. I'm hurting... because I love him." Amaya, her cheeks still tear-stained and her eyes still bloodshot, gave him a tiny smile.
"Of course you do, Kei. He's your brother; you always loved him. That has never changed."
Holding that realization tightly in his heart, he found the strength to say goodbye, even if it was silently, in the privacy of his own mind.
Reaching over the grave, Kei Tsukishima opened his hand.
And there, ladies and gentlemen, is the final installment of Lunar Eclipse. This story was an amazing journey for me, as it helped me test the limits of what I can do as a writer. I would like to sincerely thank everyone who went on this journey with me.
If you feel so inclined, criticism can only make a writer better, and I read each and every review I receive.
Thank-you.