He remembered up to the point where he struggled to unsheathe his favorite sword with his cold, numb hand. From there, fragmented sounds and sights would come and go from his mind. He knew for certain that the Earth Spider had been weakened from the wounds it had sustained fighting Itsuto and the others.
The members of the Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit had given their lives to dull its movements and drain its power.
Consequently, Kiyoka was able to lay waste to the weakened Earth Spider on his own, driving it down below a rocky cliff, then stabbing its massive body multiple times, stacking seal after seal on top of it, as if sewing the thing.
He had intended on killing it completely and eradicating it for good.
But that didn’t end up happening. No matter how many times he feverishly stabbed his sword—a magical sword, at that—into the Earth Spider, it wouldn’t die. The creature continued to twitch with life, and its ghostly aura didn’t abate in the slightest. Even cleaving its abdomen in two and decapitating it wasn’t enough.
With no other choice, Kiyoka used his magical sword as an intermediary to create a rigid seal to contain the Grotesquerie and its ghostly aura.
This was Kiyoka’s first act of revenge. Putting down an ancient Grotesquerie all by himself was a magnificent feat in itself, but even as the Earth Spider stopped moving, Kiyoka felt no sense of accomplishment. He had gained nothing.
He had lost everything.
The fat raindrops beat hard against the trees. Pouring, pouring, as if to erase it all.
Kiyoka’s memories became clear again around the time of Itsuto’s funeral.
He wasn’t sure how he had gotten back to the capital or what he had done in the aftermath.
The next thing he knew, he was at Itsuto’s funeral with Yoshito grabbing him by the collar.
“Screw you! You got a lotta nerve showing up here, murderer!”
“…”
“You don’t have anything to say for yourself, asshole?! Get out of my goddamn face!”
Yoshito raised his fist and hurled it at Kiyoka, who resigned himself to taking it. Since Kiyoka put up no resistance, he went flying back, slamming into a wall.
There was some amount of impact. However, Kiyoka couldn’t really feel anything in particular.
Yoshito is absolutely right.
Kiyoka had nothing to say for himself.
Over the countless times he thought back to that day, he would always picture a different outcome, a different future. He wouldn’t cry. He didn’t have the right.
His thoughts were wholly consumed with one question: What could he have done to save everyone?
What if he had chosen to join the military first thing after Itsuto asked him about his future…?
When Itsuto had invited him to join the mission to eliminate the Earth Spider, what if Kiyoka had been honest with himself and agreed to go?
What if, instead of being so infatuated with his pointless studies, he had immediately reconsidered and chased after them?
If Kiyoka had been a part of the fighting force, perhaps there wouldn’t have been any casualties to begin with, and they might have been able to defeat the Earth Spider. Maybe he would have gotten there in time to save Itsuto.
Maybe. Perhaps.
Each time he thought back on these points of divergence, which he could never return to, he would relive his regrets.
If only he could go back to that time; if only he could turn back the clock or bring back the dead.
He could do nothing but entertain vain thoughts such as these.
“I’m sorry.”
Yoshito’s face turned bright red at Kiyoka’s apology. Tears welled in the boy’s eyes.
Kiyoka kept quiet as he watched Yoshito prepare to hit him once again.
Even if Yoshito didn’t stop hitting him, even if he outright tried to kill him, Kiyoka didn’t think he had any right to complain, but the other guests tried desperately to stop the boy.
“Screw you! Screw you! Why are you still alive when Dad is… When Dad is…!”
Yoshito’s tearful shout reverberated across the area.
“Murderer. I’ll kill you.” The attendees paled at the frightful words disrupting the silence.
“That boy, well… I’m sure he’s doing fine. He doesn’t send a single word my way, but my wife gets a letter from him every now and then.”
“He went off on me about how the Gift-users in this country are behind the times and how he’s gonna go learn about Gifts and arts in a country that’s way more advanced than ours, but all of that had to be to spite me, huh? Ha-ha.”
Itsuto had told that to Kiyoka with a bitter smile, but…
Mr. Godou, you were truly loved… Not that it wasn’t obvious.
Of course a man of integrity and character like him would be adored.
Though Yoshito may have been in a rebellious phase, in the end, he loved his father. That was all the more reason for him to denounce Kiyoka for being unable to save Itsuto.
Because it was none other than Kiyoka who was responsible for his father’s death.
Kiyoka’s naïveté, his hesitation, and his immaturity had cost everyone the life of a man who was irreplaceable. An all too heavy crime. Even sacrificing his own life wouldn’t be enough.
There was no way to atone.
“I’ll kill you! I swear I’ll kill you!”
Yoshito shook off the people restraining him and came right up to Kiyoka. Kiyoka closed his eyes, prepared to accept anything thrown at him, when at that moment…
“Can you leave it at that?”
Everyone turned their eyes toward that calm voice. Yoshito also stopped moving and slowly turned in that same direction.
It was Koumyouin.
His military coat was draped over his shoulders, and he was being pushed in a wheelchair by a man in a white coat who was most likely a doctor.
Everything beneath his hospital gown was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, and he looked like he was in pain.
“Yoshito, can you just drop it there for me? Please. If you’re still not satisfied…then kill me.”
Yoshito glared silently at Koumyouin, who pleaded with a look of agony on his face and a tense sweat on his brow.
“I wasn’t able to protect the commander, either. I was his adjutant, I still ended up being the only one to make it out. I’m the one who failed to save the commander, so if anything, my crimes are far more severe. Am I wrong?”
“…”
“So, please.”
Koumyouin’s wounds were severe.
Only a few days had passed since the battle, and there was no way he had recovered. Regardless of how many healing arts may have been used on him, and no matter what cutting-edge medical treatments he may have undergone, he should have been strictly confined to bed rest. Kiyoka wouldn’t be surprised if simply getting out of bed and into the wheelchair had brought Koumyouin pain intense enough to knock him unconscious.
“Please… Please.”
Koumyouin pitched forward with his head lowered, rolling out of the wheelchair to prostrate himself on the floor before Yoshito. The motion must have opened up one of his wounds, as fresh blood soaked through his bandages and dripped to the floor.
Even Yoshito seemed affected by the sight as he slowly lowered his balled fist.
“…Don’t think I’ve forgiven you, Kiyoka Kudou. I’ll make sure you suffer the same pain that Dad did.”
Yoshito glared at him, eyes filled with intense hatred, before departing with his back quivering.
Kiyoka finally lifted up his head when Koumyouin, having been picked up off the floor, was wheeled over to him.