It went as bad as could expect it to go, the reunion. Misaka and Uiharu, they seem to be happy to see him. Or at least know that he was okay and not 6 feet under, maybe lower. But their reaction seems to be underwhelming, especially when compared to what he had anticipated.
Ruiko's reaction wasn't exactly the worst, but it had certainly been a far cry from the enthusiastic girl he'd known of. The moment she laid her eyes on him, she almost immediately lost her composure. Her face had turned pale, and she had taken a few hesitant steps back, her hands shaking. But as soon as she realised he was indeed standing before her, she quickly regained her composure, a forced smile plastered on her face.
It starts to genuinely hurt when the raven haired girl ran off with a quick, almost frantic, nod. The flicker of relief and apprehension in her eyes was unmistakable, though she tried to hide it behind the facade of a stoic demeanour.
The worst one was Kuroko's. She doesn't even try to acknowledge him, she simply stares at him with an expressionless mask. Her eyes, normally bright and curious, now seem dull and unresponsive. The usually animated and expressive girl now appears as if she's merely looking through him, her lips pressed into a thin line.
He didn't know what he was doing. The only real reaction he got was from Misaka, who had taken a step forward with a genuine expression of relief. She had been holding her breath the entire time, her eyes brimming with tears.
"It's really you." The words tumbled out of her mouth, barely more than a whisper. The sincerity in her tone was undeniable, a stark contrast to the reactions of the others. Misaka's eyes, usually bright and filled with the spark of the esper, had softened, her gaze searching his as if she couldn't believe that he really was standing before her.
He nodded. "Hey." The word seemed to hang in the air, a simple greeting but carrying the weight of nearly 2 years of absence.
"Where have you been?" It was Uiharu who had spoken, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and concern. She stood a little more composed than the others, her posture straight and her eyes searching his face for any sign of what had happened. Her usual bright and inquisitive demeanour showed in the way she held herself.
"Nowhere." The word slipped from his lips, simple and uninformative. It wasn't enough, but it was what he had. He had so many thoughts swirling in his mind, so many emotions he wanted to express, but he didn't know where to start. So they just accepted it.
"I'm sorry about Kuroko, but ever since you left, she doesn't want to hear anything that has something to do with you." Uiharu's words hung in the air, a heavy statement that seemed to darken the atmosphere. He felt a pang of regret at the mention of Kuroko's reaction. He knew he had hurt her deeply by leaving without a word, but he hadn't realised it was this bad.
Misaka nods. "She gets angry about it."
"I'm sure she'll come around now that you're here again. She can't stay mad forever." Uiharu's voice held a note of hope, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "After all, you're her best friend. She'll forgive you, eventually."
He swallowed, his throat tightening as he tried to process the reality of the situation. The simple words felt like a lifeline, a thread of hope in the tangled web of emotions and regrets that bound him. He looked at Misaka, who was still holding his gaze, her eyes full of a mix of relief and uncertainty. He felt the need to bridge the gap, to make this chance reunion count for something.
"It's been a long time." The words felt awkwardly formal, but he couldn't think of anything more fitting to say. "How about we catch up? I want to know what's been happening while I was... away." He hoped his voice didn't betray his inner turmoil as he took a tentative step forward, his eyes darting between the girls.
But it appears that they're not ready for a reunion quite yet. Uiharu's eyes flickered with something unreadable, and she shifted slightly on her feet. "We have a lot to talk about," she said, her tone steady but with a note of caution. "But there's something that me and Misaka-san need to work on for now." Uiharu's voice trailed off as she exchanged a glance with Misaka, who nodded solemnly.
"There's this... Child Errors on the other wings that we're taking care of..." Misaka explained, her voice softening. Hirano knew exactly what she meant when speaking of that term. After all, he used to be one as well. Much of his memories about those days were in a blur, but the pain and the isolation were etched vividly in his mind. So he just nodded.
"B-but then again, maybe you could come to the office tomorrow?" The chestnut haired girl added, stammering that sight of his crestfallen expression. Her eyes searched his, hope mingling with concern. "It's still the same place as back then. Office 177, you still remember where that is, right?"
He nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Of course, I remember. Office 177, same as always." The familiarity of the place brought a touch of comfort, a reminder of the past he was desperate to reconnect with.
Uiharu's face softened. "Good. Then you know what to expect. It's not going to be easy, but... it's good that you're back." The reunion had been a whirlwind of emotions, each girl's reaction a complex puzzle piece that he was trying to fit into place.
Misaka's genuine relief, Uiharu's optimistic hope, Ruiko's unexpected dread, and Kuroko's unresponsive mask all told a story of how much he had missed. As they parted ways, he felt a sense of uncertainty settle over him, but also relief for the given chance to make things right.
Back home, he found himself staring at the familiar walls of his apartment, the silence almost suffocating. It was at least 1 am in the morning, and his thoughts were swirling like a storm in his mind. He had left without a word, and now he was back, with so much to make up for. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had left a piece of himself behind, and now he had to find it again.
He sank into the couch, palm pressed onto his forehead. The reunion had been disheartening, a reminder of how much he had hurt those he cared about. He didn't mean to. Hell, he didn't even realise he had hurt them that much. The memories of his time with the girls, the laughter, the camaraderie, all seemed like a distant dream now.
Maybe he's just not the same person anymore. The night was heavy with the weight of his thoughts. The city outside was a blur of lights and sounds, but in his apartment, it felt like the world had paused. The walls seemed to close in on him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed in the most fundamental way.
He stood up and walked over to the small kitchenette, his mind a jumble of emotions. The dim light cast long shadows across the room, making it seem almost eerie. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, the cool liquid providing a brief respite from the swirling thoughts. He took a long, slow sip, hoping to clear his mind.
But the silence was relentless, a constant reminder of the distance he had created between himself and them. He thought back to the days when everything seemed so simple, so uncomplicated. The laughter, the adventures, the quiet moments of contemplation shared with the girls. It had all been so effortless, so natural, back then. Now, it seemed like an unbridgeable chasm had opened between them, a gap that he wasn't sure if he could ever fill.
He sighed. No use thinking about it too much. He'll deal with it when the time comes. The thought felt hollow, but it was all he could muster. Much of his life had been spent in the pursuit of answers, of understanding and of protecting. Now, he was faced with a different kind of challenge, one that required more than brute force or raw power. He needed to reconnect, to mend the tears he had caused.
Easier said than done, Hirano hasn't thought of a way he could do to bridge the gap. He couldn't just walk back into their lives as if nothing had changed. He needed something tangible, something that would make them see that he was truly back to stay. That after the third time of disappearing for his own reasons, he was ready to put the past behind him and forge a new future.
His usually complete thoughts, filled with numerical values and trying to grasp the world through the lens of the esper phenomenon, were now muddled with uncertainty, now echoing with the question of how to reconcile with the past. He thought back to the last time he was with them, the day he had to leave without a word. It was a day filled with fear and urgency, a day that had left him with a heavy heart and a gnawing sense of guilt.
He paced the room, the quiet footsteps a counterpoint to the storm of thoughts in his mind. The night stretched on, his thoughts oscillating between the past and the present. The first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains, casting a pale, soft light into the room. His eyes were beginning to droop from exhaustion.
He could feel himself getting more and more tired, yet his mind refused to quiet. The silence of the apartment seemed to stretch endlessly, a reminder of the isolation he had put himself in. He needed something to break the monotony, something to anchor him back to reality.
He walked to the window, pulling back the curtains to reveal the city awakening. The streets were starting to come alive, the first signs of the day's hustle and bustle beginning to emerge. He has school in several hours, and it's making him anxious. There's too much he needs to accomplish, too many steps he needs to take before he can even start to make things right.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes half-closing as he stood there, the city's dawnlight casting a pale glow on the bustling streets below. The day was dawning, and with it, a new chance to start over. Hirano stood at the window, the morning light filtering through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues.
He just pulled an all-nighter, and it's starting to catch up with him. The fatigue was evident in his posture, but his mind remained a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He should probably just get ready. Maybe washing his face would help clear his mind. He made his way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet as the cool water splashed against his skin. The sensation was refreshing, grounding him momentarily.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, the faint light accentuating the dark circles under his eyes. He rubbed his face gently, trying to scrub away the fatigue. The mirror reflected a face that looked both familiar and foreign. The same lines, the same eyes, but the weight of the past few years was etched deeply into his features.
He splashed water on his face a few more times, feeling the chill seep into his skin. Early morning water was not the most pleasant thing, but it was effective. The coldness was a jolt to his system, helping to shake off the remnants of the night's anguish. He rubbed his eyes, the exhaustion still heavy in his bones but the fog in his mind beginning to clear.
He took a deep breath, the crisp morning air filling his lungs. The cold water and the rising sun gave him a semblance of clarity. The clock on the wall read 5:58. Still several hours left until school. He needed a plan, something to anchor himself to.
He needn't worry about it though. School ends at 17:00 pm. At least for him. He has more than enough time to work on something and mend whatever relationship he had broken. He took another deep breath, the resolve to make things right solidifying within him.
He wasn't exactly sure whether they'd be willing to wait for him by the office, as it was close to evening when he was on his way to see them. He fixed his collar, his expression grim as he closed in on his destination. The sun in on itself was slowly turning into a golden hue, casting elongated shadows across the buildings as evening slowly settled in.
He walked down the familiar streets, each step bringing back memories of the past, the laughter, the shared moments, the quiet conversations that seemed to hold a world of meaning. It all stood out so vividly now, a poignant reminder of what he had left behind.
He wasn't sure how he should approach them, how he should make them see that he was truly back. He had no grand plan, just a desperate need to reconnect. The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the simple act of walking.
As he turned a corner, he saw the familiar building looming ahead, its stairs and entrance bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. His heart felt a familiar tug, a mix of anticipation and anxiety. He paused for a moment, taking in the familiar sight, and then stepped forward with renewed purpose.
Each step up the stairs felt like a journey through time, the memories of the girls swirling in his mind. He had spent countless hours here, sharing laughter, tears, and moments of profound connection. Now, he was about to embark on a new chapter, one where he hoped to make amends and forge a new path.
As he entered the building, the familiar scent of papers and ink filled his nostrils. The memories of countless study sessions, late-night discussions, and shared meals flooded back. It was a place where he had found solace, friendship, and a sense of belonging, and he had left it all behind. For nothing.
The sight of the place; towering stacks of books, maps, and documents, brought a pang of nostalgia. The familiar hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to echo with the memories of late-night cram sessions and heated debates.
There were still several people inside. All of them, he recognized but had never talked to. All he can do is stare at them in awe and curiosity, the memories of his time with the girls now contrasting sharply with the present. It was a strange mixture of nostalgia and apprehension. In all honesty, he had no idea how they would react to his return. His absence had caused them so much pain, and it was hard not to wonder if they would ever be willing to forgive him. Kuroko and Ruiko at least.
His steps were steady but cautious, his heart pounding in his chest. He navigated through the familiar maze of rooms, each one a memory distilled into a single moment. The girls used to spend hours in this very spot, surrounded by books and papers, pursuing their goals and dreams with unwavering determination. He had once been a part of that, a key figure in their collective pursuit of knowledge and understanding.
He then spotted Uiharu, the sound of her keyboard clacking away as she worked on her computer, her back facing him. Her presence was a beacon of familiarity, a reminder of the days when laughter and camaraderie felt like an endless tide. He hesitated at the door, his resolve wavering for a moment. Should he go in? The doubts began to creep in, but then he took a deep breath and stepped forward, his heart pounding in his chest.
Uiharu's ears twitched slightly as she sensed the presence behind her. She looked back, her eyes widening slightly as she locked onto Hirano's face. For a moment, the two just stared at each other, the silence thick with unspoken words.
"Hey, Hirano," Uiharu said quietly, her voice tinged with surprise. "You came." She rose from her chair, stretching her arms and arching her back, trying to fully comprehend the situation. "Sorry, I didn't prepare any tea or coffee for you. I thought you weren't going to come. I was wrong."
Hirano's face softened as he took in Uiharu's words. A small, hesitant smile formed on his lips as he walked towards her, each step feeling heavy but purposeful. "I couldn't stay away," he said, his voice soft but steady. "I needed to see you all, to explain."
Uiharu nodded, her expression softening as she studied him. "You don't have to explain anything. Me and Misaka-san understand. It's just been a long time," she said, her voice softer now, almost like a whisper. "But still, a part of us wonders why you didn't stay."
Hirano's eyes lowered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "I know," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "I made a grave mistake," he continued, his eyes meeting hers. "I shouldn't have." Uiharu's eyes searched for him, a mixture of sorrow and pity evident in her gaze.
"We all make mistakes," she said gently. "But it's how you learn from them that matters." He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took another step closer to her. The past and present collided in the silence between them, a heavy burden hanging in the air.
Uiharu's eyes softened further. "Misaka-san just left about 2 minutes ago. I think she went with Kuroko to get some cakes that we ordered by the bakery a block away from here. They'll be back in a bit." Again, he nodded. He was rather glad that she's not here yet, Kuroko. He still needs to gather some courage, perhaps, plan a little in case he needs to.
Hirano and Uiharu exchanged a brief, awkward smile, a moment of silence stretching between them. The room felt heavy with unspoken words, the clatter of her keyboard a haunting reminder of what had been left unresolved. Hirano cleared his throat, the sound barely audible.
"You should sit, you looked like you could use it." Uiharu said, gesturing to the chair opposite her desk. Hirano nodded, taking a seat with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He sat, his back straight but his muscles tense, as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Would you like some tea?"
He was about to shake his head, but Uiharu was already rising from her chair. She moved with an almost feline grace, her steps light and fluid. "I'll make some," she said, her voice brightening slightly. "It can't hurt to have a little normalcy at this moment."
As she disappeared into the back room, Hirano's gaze fell to the desk. He'd been in this room before, just not too often. Maybe two or three times only. As he was trying to recall those moments, he heard a gasp from the door. He looked up and saw dark hairs. Ruiko.
The girl was pale, as if she had just seen a ghost. Her fingers visibly trembled as she clutched the doorframe, her eyes wide and disbelieving. For a moment, she stood there, frozen in shock, unable to form a coherent thought. There were sweats flowing down her face, her breath catching in her throat. She seemed to be struggling to process the sight of him standing there, her usual composure shattered by the overwhelming reality of his presence.
"Hey," Hirano's words came out soft and hesitant, a blend of hope and trepidation. She had reacted the same way as she had back in the hospital yesterday; running away, looking all afraid and disoriented, as if she was seeing dead people in this state. The memory of her frailty and fear weighed heavily on him, a bitter reminder of what he had done.
The girl, usually so cheery and radiant, didn't seem to know what to do with herself. Her eyes flicked from his face to her feet and back again, searching for some anchor to ground her. She took small, tentative steps forward, her movements like those of a wild animal sensing danger. Hirano stood up, his hands raised in a calming gesture.
"I don't know what it is that i do that got you so scared, Ruiko. I apologise for any pain or fear I may have caused you. I'm here now, and I want to make things right," he said, his voice trembling with the effort of being sincere.
But it had caused a reaction that he hadn't expected. At all. Her fear turned sad, even pain. But there was something, a part of it that he couldn't understand. Sympathy? Pity? Maybe even guilt and anger. Ruiko's face contorted as she fought to compose herself. Her eyes, usually bright and full of life, were now dimmed by a mixture of emotions. The room seemed to shrink as the silence stretched between them, her emotions weighing heavily on the air. Hirano, aware of her pain, moved forward cautiously, his steps gentle on the floor.
"It's not you," Ruiko said finally, her voice a barely audible whisper. She looked away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's what you did or said." Hirano's heart ached as he processed her words, the silence between them thick with unspoken pain.
"I'm sorry."
Surprisingly, those words, had come out of her mouth. Not his. He blinked. Again, he didn't understand. Her voice was trembling, barely audible. "It's not you. It's them." She continued, her fingers clutching the doorframe tighter, as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.
At first, he just assumed that she was referring to everyone; Kuroko, Misaka and Uiharu. That she was just shifting the blame around. But something about her tone, her body language, told him that it was more than that. She glanced at him, her eyes searching for something in his expression, as if she was hoping he would understand.
When she doesn't find whatever it is that she seeks, however, she just shakes her head, her shoulders dropping in a gesture of resignation. "Me saying this makes me feel like i'm betraying the trust that Uiharu has given me," she muttered, her voice barely audible. Hirano's senses numbed at that. He knew exactly what she meant the moment he mentioned their friend's name. "It's not that I blame you. It's just... it's complicated."
Ruiko's voice trailed off as she struggled to find the right words. Yet he nodded, slowly, his understanding dawning. He had once been a part of this group, he knows when one of them is in pain or is holding back.
"I want to understand." Ruiko's shoulders relaxed a fraction, though her eyes remained clouded with myriad emotions. She took a deep breath and let her hands drop from gripping the doorframe. "Why did they do that to you?" Her words hung in the air. Yet she doesn't stop at that. Another one. Ruiko takes a tentative step forward, her voice gaining strength as she speaks, her eyes locking onto his with a mixture of determination and trepidation. "Why did they hurt you so much?"
Hirano paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find the words, his emotions wrestled with the desire to tell the truth. She wasn't the only one who has asked him that question, but for the first time, it felt like a genuine inquiry—like she was genuinely seeking to understand, not just to judge or to satisfy her curiosity.
"It's... complicated," Hirano began, his voice wavering. Just as he had said that, they heard a soft chuckle. The sound was unexpected, and it immediately drew their attention.
Uiharu had returned with a tray carrying two cups of steaming tea. She smiled as she set the tray down on the desk, her eyes darting briefly to Hirano and then to Ruiko, who still stood frozen by the door. Uiharu's smile faltered slightly as she noticed the tension between them. "He gave me that same answer back then as well." Seemed to be the only thing she could muster. She poured the tea with a practised ease, her movements calm and methodical. Her voice, gentle but firm, cut through the heavy silence. "It's always complicated, isn't it?"
He stiffened at that, the finality in her tone leaving no room for escape. Ruiko's eyes flickered to Hirano, and for a moment, the two of them were a mirror image of the pain and uncertainty that had once divided them. Hirano's gaze met hers, a silent plea to let him explain, to understand.
Uiharu placed the two cups of steaming tea on the desk, her hands steady despite the tension in the room. "Let's talk."
Uiharu's voice cut through the silence like a gentle breeze breaking the stillness of a stormy night. Her words hung in the air, a call for calm amidst the tempest of emotions swirling around them. The tea she had poured seemed to offer a small comfort, its steam curling upwards in an ethereal dance.
Ruiko's eyes flickered to the tea, and she took a tentative step closer, her movements still hesitant but less guarded. Hirano stood, his eyes still fixed on Ruiko's face, trying to convey the sincerity in his words through his gaze. He reached for the cup Uiharu had poured, his hands trembling slightly as he lifted it to his lips. The hot liquid warmed his fingers, a small yet comforting sensation amidst the turmoil.
"I don't know where to start," Hirano said, his voice breaking as he tried to gather his thoughts. His voice trembled slightly, the words struggling to escape as though they were a living entity wrapped in chains of sorrow. Ruiko's eyes, always so full of life, now bore into him with an intensity that reflected her own pain and confusion.
Hirano took a breath, his fingers tightly gripping the cup of tea. He closed his eyes briefly and let the heat flow through him, grounding himself in the moment. "I was part of something that I don't want to understand," he began. "The things I did, those I've hurt, I did it because it was necessary. It was the only way to keep people I care about safe. So please, stop asking why. Because I don't want to tell you that answer."
To him, the words tumbled out as a confession, leaving a heavy silence to follow. His hold on his cup, trembling at the edges, the steam curling lazily up to the ceiling. Uiharu's eyes, sharp and perceptive, watched him intently, her expression a mixture of empathy and understanding. Ruiko's gaze softened, her earlier fear replaced by a blend of sorrow and newfound determination.
Ruiko's eyes, usually so vibrant with life, reflected a mixture of sorrow and newfound determination. She took a tentative step closer, her earlier fear slowly replaced by a more profound understanding. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just wish it didn't have to hurt you so much."
Hirano's eyes searched Ruiko's face, seeing the emotions she was struggling to keep in check. He nodded slowly, his gaze softening as he realised the depth of her pain. "Hn," he hummed back in acknowledgement, his voice breaking with the weight of it. "I wish it didn't have to hurt anyone, either."
Uiharu's eyes moved between them, her expression showing a mix of sadness and hope. "We all wish for that." The tension in the room was palpable, each of them a world away from their own thoughts and memories. Despite the silence, the truth was that it was in these quiet moments that the real conversations, the ones that spoke the deepest, took place.
He felt hands on his back, a gentle touch that offered comfort without interrupting his thoughts. Uiharu's hand, small and soft, rested there, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. Hirano didn't pull away, instead leaning into the touch, letting it ground him. He took another sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through him, a small solace in the midst of the storm.
Ruiko's eyes remained fixed on him. Eventually, she sighed. She let out a giggle, one that he was familiar with, usually so cheerful, and bright. "I'm being ridiculous," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, Hirano."
The words tumbled out of her, genuine and heartfelt. Her shoulders relaxed, just a fraction, as she stepped closer, the tension between them easing as she did. Hirano's eyes softened, his earlier pain giving way to a mixture of relief and understanding. He clutched the cup tightly, sensing the warmth seeping through his fingers as he offered her a small, genuine smile.
"It's not ridiculous," Uiharu chirped, her tone light. "It's honest. And I think that's what we all need right now."
The room was a cocoon of quiet contemplation, each breath a reminder of the fragile trust hanging in the air. Hirano's eyes, still haunted by the memories of past sacrifices, found solace in the gentle touch of Uiharu's hand on his back. Ruiko's earlier apprehension had given way to a tentative acceptance, her shoulders slowly relaxing as the tea's warmth spread through her body.
It didn't exactly last that long, as the sound of footsteps echoed outside the door. The clicks were familiar, marking the approach of someone they both knew. The door creaked open, and Kuroko stood there. When his eyes met hers, she immediately looked away, wiping clean the smile that she adorned just moments when she walked in. His presence was like a cold gust of wind, cutting through the fragile calm that had settled in the room.
"Hey," he said, his voice soft but carrying an underlying tension. The sudden interruption felt heavy, like the arrival of an inevitable storm. Hirano's grip on the tea cup tightened momentarily, his eyes flickering to Kuroko with a mixture of relief.
Kuroko stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "You came." Kuroko's voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of urgency that wasn't quite hidden. The tension that had disappeared is now reinstated, settling in the air like a blanket of impending storm.
The girl with the twin tail placed the plastic bag hanging on her hands at the table, and she began to untie the string. "I brought some cakes." He kept his gaze on her, while she continued to untie the string, her movements mechanical and somewhat distant. The bag finally opened, revealing a variety of colourful cakes, each one a small, sweet gesture meant to ease the burden of the day.
Uiharu leaned into his ear. "Just be honest." He looked at her, giving him a reassuring smile before she tapped Ruiko on the shoulder, gesturing for the door. The two got up and left, closing the door behind them, leaving only Kuroko and him alone in the room.
Hirano took a moment to steady himself, the fragile peace broken by their unexpected arrival. He set his cup down carefully, the clink of ceramic against the desk echoing in the silence. Hirano's eyes searched Kuroko's face, a myriad of emotions playing across his features.
Kuroko's presence was a complicated mix of comfort and anxiety. The familiar sight of her twin tail brought a wave of memories, some of which were painful, some of which were tender. Hirano's voice was soft yet resolute. "Kuroko,"
He said, his voice barely a whisper. Her movements momentarily stopped, as she turned to face him, her eyes reflecting the same blend of emotions that had once bound their lives together. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with the memories they had shared and the scars they had accumulated.
She kept her back turned against him, her hands stopped moving for a moment, the strings of the bag still in her hands. "What do you need to say?" Her voice was steady, but the undertone of uncertainty was clear.
"Nothing." Hirano's voice was resolute, though tinged with conviction. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." The words hung in the air, a heavy cloud of remorse that seemed to envelop the room. Hirano's eyes, once filled with a burning intensity, now showed the weight of regret. Kuroko's back remained turned, her shoulders slightly tensed, but she didn't move. The silence stretched, each second ticking by like a heartbeat, marking the fragile moment.
"Sorry for what?" Kuroko's voice was measured.
"Everything." Her back remained rigid, the tension evident. Hirano's words, spoken with earnest regret, pierced the air like a sharp arrow. Kuroko's shoulders fell slightly, her shoulders sagging under the burden of unspoken memories and unresolved emotions.
"Is that it?" Kuroko's voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. "Is that all you have to say?"
"It's never enough, is it?" Hirano's eyes searched Kuroko's back, the weight of their shared past pressing down on them like a shroud. "No," he admitted, his voice a low murmur. "I know it's not. But I'm trying to make peace with it, with myself."
Kuroko's breath hitched, the sound barely audible. "For what it's worth," He added, a sense of finality in his tone. "You wouldn't be able to forgive me even if I had said a million sorrys." The words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the chasm that had grown between them over time.
The rustle as he got up from his seat, taking his school bag, opening it and bringing something out of it quickened Kuroko's heart rate with a multitude of emotions. "I want to make it up to you, but I don't know how I should do it." Kuroko's hands shook slightly as he continued with his actions, a habitual gesture under the starching tension. She turned to face him. "I know I'm 2 years late for this, but, I hope this makes it up to you. For now."
He held it to her face, enough that she could see several loose strings on the surface of the item he was holding. It was still as white, though with bits of collarbone-coloured dust and a few stubborn stains. A scarf. Hirano's hand trembled slightly as he held it out. The scarf, both a reminder and a symbol of a forgotten promise, was now a tangible piece of their shared past. Kuroko's eyes widened slightly as she recognized the item, her fingers twitching in response. The scarf had been something small but meaningful, a token of their friendship and bond far before the events that had torn them apart.
"I found it again just last year. I started wearing it since. I didn't yesterday because it was still drying." Her hand moved instinctively, reaching out to take the scarf from him. The moment her fingers closed around it, memories flooded back— laughter, shared secrets, and moments of warmth. The scarf had been a symbol of their past innocence.
"I..." she whispered, her voice breaking at the edges. "I didn't think you'd keep it." Hirano's face softened at her words, a quiet smile on his lips. "I didn't even remember this." The moment stretched, a blend of emotions clinging to the air. "You kept it," Kuroko murmured, her voice barely audible. She looked down at the scarf, her fingers tracing the edges.
Hirano's eyes seemed to hold a thousand words, though none of them seemed to reach Kuroko. "It kept me anchored," Hirano finally said, his voice steady now. "To memories of the good times."
Her breath hitched. There was a flutter in her chest, a mixture of relief and sorrow. An underlying current of emotions, ones that were bottled up for years, flowed through her. Once more, after a long time, she smiled at him. A smile that felt both genuine and fleeting, like a ghost of a memory that refuses to stay buried. "I'm glad."
The moment hung heavy, a fragile reunion of emotions and memories. Hirano's eyes softened, a quiet understanding passing between them. Hirano took a step closer, the tension between them palpable yet lighter. Her head lowered as her forehead leaned against his chest, her breath warm and steady against his school jacket. His arms came around her, wrapping her in a gentle embrace.
"I'm sorry for everything we lost," Hirano whispered, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in his words was unmistakable. "But I'm back now."
Kuroko's breath quickened the more he spoke, feeling every syllable of his apology resonate deep within her. Hirano's embrace was both comforting and familiar, his presence anchoring her in a moment where the past and present collided. She wanted to speak as well. There were many things that she wanted to say, but the lightheaded feeling and the overwhelming emotions left her unable to form coherent sentences. She clung to him, savouring the warmth of his presence, the gentle way he enveloped her.
Kuroko leaned in further. Her breathing hard, almost ventilating as she resisted the overwhelming emotions of wanting to just burst down the dam of years of pain and longing.
"Please, just don't leave again."
I'm sorry for last week's half-assed shit. Hopefully this makes up for the disaster that it is.
Anyways, new chapter next week!