Chapter 74: Chapter 73 - A Memory He Never Talks About

Kuro left the house shortly after the morning rain was finished.

The sky was still grey. It was heavy and quiet.

The weather was exactly what he had needed if he were to think about memories that he didn’t want to think about.

He hadn’t told anyone where he was going.

Not Aoi. Not Akari. Not His Father.

Just , "I’m going to be out for a while."

And then he walked away from the house into a cold afternoon alone.

The cemetery is located just outside of the city, surrounded by a lot of trees, and was very quiet.

Kuro walked along the narrow stone paths slowly with his hands in his pockets as the wind blew gently around him.

He knew this place. Very well.

Eventually, he stopped in front of a single tombstone.

It was silent.

For a moment , then he finally looked down at the engraved name.

Ayame Kurogane.His mother.

He still felt a lot of pain when he saw her name.

Not as bad as before.

But worse.

Like a gigantic hole in his chest where a boulder had been for a long time, now the boulder is gone, and he can see how far down the hole actually is.

Before the grave, Kuro crouched down and left some fresh flowers. Lily flowers.They were her favourite.

At least Kuro hoped they still were.

Just that thought made him feel a horrible tightness in his chest.

Because he couldn’t remember recently many of the things he used to be able to remember.

Her perfume. Her voice. The exact warmth of her embrace.

Small things would gradually fade away; but he hated himself for it.

Above, in the wind-whispering trees, behind the stone pathway in the waiting silence of where Kuro was all alone and, as he had done in previous years, would be all alone with his grief was Shizuka.

She had not followed Kuro , she wasn’t trying to intrude but because she knew him well enough to know that Kuro would always completely isolate himself on this specific day from everyone else.

And the thought of Kuro carrying all that grief all alone was painful enough for her to stay back from him.

She would maintain a distance that would allow her to still be able to help him if he broke.

Back at the grave Kuro was looking quietly at the stone that had been inscribed with a memory.

And he said softly,

"...It’s been eight years."

His words sounded strange when he spoke them.

They seemed too far away. They seemed too unreal.

As if some part of him continued to be that scared kid in the hospital hallway when everyone who was always an adult seemed so devastated all of a sudden.

Slowly, images from his memory began to emerge in his mind, such as his father, who’s very upset, sitting silently and covering his face with his trembling, shaky hands at the hospital while they were waiting to hear about Kuro’s Mom.

Or the cold waiting room and bright lights in the hospital when his mom was undergoing surgery.

Or young Kuro a small child, very confused, and terrified, asking over and over again

"Mom, when are you coming home?"

And nobody ever told Kuro directly what was going on with his mother or what had happened to her.

All of the uncertainty impacted Kuro tremendously because children are much more aware than adults realize.

Children know when adults will not give them all of the information.

Eventually, someone had to tell young Kuro what had happened to his mother, but it was done without any gentleness or care.

He was just told.

"Your mother has passed away."

"Passed away."

Young Kuro recalled how strange the words were and how he had just sat quietly after hearing the news and was so confused as to what the words actually meant.

Yes, it is only four words, however, there are others, like .

"Your mom will never be able to talk to you again."

"Your life will never be the same again."

"Your mom is gone forever."

Initially, young Kuro thought she was going to come back. That’s what all moms do , they come back eventually.

Correct?

Eventually, a painful memory came flooding back to Kuro one night when it finally clicked in Kuro’s head that his mom was never going to come back.

He was sitting in his room, with the lights out, holding on to his mother’s old sweater as tight as he could, waiting for his mom’s footsteps to return home.

He was wanting to hear her say to him

"Goodnight, Kuro."

Just silence, that’s it.But then the child broke.

The little boy who tried to be so grown up finally cried until he couldn’t catch his breath.

Not by screaming.

By being so terrified and sad he couldn’t make a noise.

Now,Kuro squeezed his eyes shut.

His breath came faster.

Remembering that too lonely to be.

Losing mom was only one way he felt sad.

It was the way he was changed.

From that day on he didn’t trust people at all.

Didn’t ask for support . didn’t expect anyone to stay.

Because somewhere deep down he still had a child-like fear that.

All people would eventually leave.

Then came back a different memory.

Being at school. Outside in the rain himself waiting like every kid for their parent.

But Kuro alone.

Pretending to read while waiting at the front for a parent’s to come home.

Each time a parent came, part of him still hoped that maybe he would see his own too.

Why even think such an idiotic thought?

Thank goodness little kids never quit hoping for the impossible.

Kuro chuckled softly to himself.

A weak chuckle.

A chuckle that came from a place of deep exhaustion.

"...I really have become pitiful."

His voice was whisked away by the gentle winds.

And then after a moment of silence he spoke again.

In a voice that was even quieter than before.

"...I can no longer clearly recall your voice."

There was an emptiness in the space between them.

"...I’m sorry."

It came out instinctively.

Guilt followed him every year on this anniversary.

Guilt for laughing as he normally would have. For continuing on in life. For slowly forgetting things that used to hug him like arms around his shoulders.

He was afraid that if he ever became completely happy then that would mean he was abandoning the memory of her in some way.

Out of sight behind the trees, Shizuka held her hand over her mouth in disbelief.

The sound of Kuro’s voice like this was far more painful for her than she expected it to be.

It wasn’t the fact that he was sounding so dramatic.

It was the way his voice sounded so small and childlike.

It was as if the little boy inside Kuro had never healed.

At the gravesite, Kuro hung his head low.

And then finally the most deeply buried memories within him flooded to the top of his consciousness.

The funeral.

The people crying softly around him. The black dresses and suits of the adults that came to pay their respects to Kuro.

The soft touch of the many hands of adults who gently stroked his head while whispering meaningless words of comfort as they walked by.

And the view of a completely frozen Kuro standing next to the casket, unable to comprehend/fathom all that was happening around him.

And the very first of his memories over the entire 10 years since the death of his mother surfaced,

The image of him desperately clinging to his father’s sleeve while he beseeched him .

"Tell her to wake up!"

"Dad, can you wake my mom up ? "

Dad didn’t answer; he only cried harder

And that was the moment that Kuro really got it she’s gone, and she’s not coming back.

Kuro’s breath was shaking as he sat with tightly clenched hands against his knees, and after eight years have passed, his sense of powerlessness as a child.

When he couldn’t do anything to stop someone from being taken away from him was still deep down inside him.

Silently he said to the grave,

"Kuro, your mom, I’m trying hard."

A natural slip with using ’mom’ instead of ’mother’ as a show of formal separate distance also derived from just who he was the typical child still stuck inside of a grown man.

"I’ve really tried."

"I’ve really tried to not create problems."

"I’ve really tried to be okay"

"I’ve really tried to be someone you could rely on. Tough to say whether anyone could understand how long it has been since I last tried to be okay. "

And for the first time, in years Kuro snapped wasn’t dramatic or loud just quietly through tears, one after another, he’s all alone before mom’s grave not able to hold it together anymore.

Eight years of bottled up grief finally sealed and totally exploded.

He might behave adult-like and probably seem calm but somewhere deep down inside of him .

He is a little boy wanting to tell his mother that he really does miss her more than anything.

As Shizuka stood crying behind the trees, her heart ached for Kuro.

Still, she chose not to go over to him.

Instead, she held back from interrupting him

For this moment was not about taking the place of anyone else.

Nor was it about taking the place of his mother.

It was simply about ensuring that as Kuro cried alone at the loss of the woman he had lost,

That he had someone near him, afterwards,

So Shizuka stood under the grey sky silently watching him from a distance.

Like Family.