This is not healthy, and I know it.
Telling your story back to myself— I need to stop.
But, it's so compelling, I can't. I need to know, to understand where everything went wrong. The reliving, it was painful, so painful— but it was necessary.
Ryuzen fully died with you. So now, Kyoki. That's who I am now. Finally free.
Your death, it's freeing and confining, the duality of it leaves me confused, not knowing how to feel. I have now avenged Miyuki, but I don't feel anything. The only thing that was feeling within me, only now I realize, was Ryuzen.
But, it is time to move on.
Your story is over, so now, I can take control of mine.
This will be my last entry, after I finish. The laptop— I hope nobody will see it.
But, I also hope somebody will.
It's hard to understand, I will finish that journal, that attack for you.
Putting myself in your shoes, it helped me, so, so much. I understand now, I can fully understand why you did what you did. Don't misinterpret my words— you still did everything wrong, even after your apologies.
Because—
Because— it was too late for Miyuki. You should have tried to break free sooner, and the knowledge that it took the death of your own child for you to see, it's disgusting. Wrong, all of it.
It's raining.
Down, and down.
The pitter patter should be soothing— but it's not.
I dug a hole for you.
And I have you, your broken corpse.
I know that it is wrong, so wrong to bury you in the garden of the house where you broke. But, I have to, so you will know forever the wrongs you have committed. So that even in death, you will remember.
Slowly, I drag your corpse.
I will not describe the details of what you look like, it is far too painful, for everybody.
For me.
For Miyuki.
For Ryuzen.
For you.
Not like I care about you.
Or do I?
But no, I do not, as Ryuzen is not me.
I am me.
I am Kyoki Akumoto, finally allowed to breathe.
So, I do look at that corpse, as your sacrifice– no, punishment– has given me the freedom to fly away.
But did it? I could still feel that part of me anchored down. I wanted to escape, to cut the tether, but I could not.
Ironic, isn't it?
You, you grasped to that tether. I try to freefall.
But, I saw what came of you when it snapped. Will that be my fate too? But no, it could not be. I am not you, not Ryuzen, I am I.
But, if I am I, why are my cheeks damp, my mouth tasting salt?
Only Ryuzen would feel such a thing.
But, as I reach down to silence him, I find nothing. There is no Ryuzen. Then that meant– that it was me? I had summoned such a thought?
No.
NO.
NO!
I, me, truly me, would never cry over you.
I shouldn't cry, I had done what Miyuki wanted.
Even though this is what I tell myself, I can hear– something – no, a little voice, sweet, and comforting.
It reaches down from the clouds, from where you and her now shared such a space.
And, it speaks to me, sweetly, something which I never gave you. But you never deserved for such gentleness, such care. You were so, so wrong. And, only death could bring down your denial, that wall which you had built so seamlessly.
The voice, the voice, it's soft, warm, familiar.
'Ryuzen, this is not what I wanted.'
I want to reply, but I can't, it's too unreachable, too abstract of a thing.
But I– I am not Ryuzen, so there really was nothing to reply to.
Even though I know it's intended for me, I ignore it.
I had done everything right.
Right, Miyuki?
You must know, I did this all for you, to avenge your death.
Are you proud of me?
I try to shove out the thoughts of guilt.
I was right, I was not in denial like you were.
As I shovel on the last bit of dirt onto your grave, I realize—
Neither of us were right, but neither of us were wrong.
We just took different paths.
Then I reach another problem—
When had I begun to cover your grave?
Maybe, I hadn't realized, but that– that was so wrong. I deserve to enjoy, to savor, every last bit of your death, not for me, but for Miyuki.
Where was she?
I felt so gone, so lost, so endless without her. I don't know where to look for help. But it's just me, in a graying picture. I move, but everybody else, they all stay still.
Did time stop?
No– it didn't. I stopped. I separated myself from the time.
Getting up from beside your grave, I turn my back on you, on the house, on Ryuzen, for the final time.
I would not look back.
But, I did need to speak to Miyuki with the only way I know how.
Walking back through the house was almost too painful. I tried to not feel the sorrow, from everything that had happened within this house.
This place was the beginning of all was wrong and the end of it, the slow, burning end.
I shut my eyes tight, I did not want to see, but that was what Eiko would do.
I am not Eiko!
I am Kyoki Akumoto!
So, I force my eyes open, force myself through the memories too painful, too unspeakable to breath.
They cut, cut like shattered glass.
Everything was shattering.
Ryuzen.
Miyuki.
You.
My life.
But, all of those things had long been promised.
I hadn't expected it to come so soon.
This was all on me though, wasn't it?
I had expedited the process.
I had asked for you to die.
Only, I hadn't expected it to break me too. I had thought it would give me closure, the ability to move on from my cell of abuse, the one that Miyuki never could.
But, but, it didn't. I am still grounded, but also free. Almost as if my soul, the new one which I had birthed, was splitting apart.
The smell too, it was unbearable. The house reeked of mildew and dust, and long forgotten memories.
Even worse, it had the coppery tang of blood, still hanging fresh in the air. I had never bothered to clean up your blood.
Not like you deserved such a courtesy.
It was all over though, you are dead. So then, why am I telling this to you?
I want you to know that your soul, living, breathing up there, has done too many things wrong to forget.
So stop.
Stop forgetting.
Arriving at her tombstone was hard. But now, now I am here. With her, with Miyuki.
With my mother.
I sit beside her, I can almost imagine her long, silky black hair tickling my head, her big earrings dangling. I can hear her voice.
Not really.
It's not hers.
It's my recreation of it.
And, it's not as good, it is so much worse.
But where, where had she gone?
Sometimes, when I long hard enough, it feels like I can almost touch her. Now, that is what I feel, sitting next to her grave.
"Miyuki, are you proud of me?"
My voice is more broken than I expected, and the raw words fade into the strong wind that combs through the graveyard.
I look around me.
The tree is so beautiful, its orange and red maple leaves falling onto the ground, the flowers, planted in neat rows.
And best of all, the hill, the isolated hill where Miyuki lay.
I wish that I could lay next to her, it must get so lonely there, all alone.
"Miyuki, are you proud of me?" I ask again, my voice cracking.
But there is no response, just the cruel wind taking my words out of my mouth.
I want her to know, to know how hard I try for her.
How much I did to protect her, to avenge her.
Did she not see, not see how much I did for her?
But maybe, maybe just like Eiko, I am too late.
She was my mother, my caregiver.
And now?
I try to avenge her, I try to get her to have the final words of her story. But it almost feels as if it is not her story, but mine. Was it time to move on?
No.
It never would be. Miyuki was everything that was right with the world, she was the light, the beauty, the song.
And I?
I am the dark, the shadow, the broken, never deserving to be graced by her presence.
But I was forgetting, she too, was the broken. But she, she did something so, so much more powerful than I. She used that pain, that harsh edge, and she turned it into beauty. She did not lash out in the cruel way I had. Instead, she faded, always catering for others.
And what did that bring her?
She is the hero of my story, as I saw her quiet pain.
But in others?
In others, she was the background character, an unimportant nobody.
But she, she is my story.
I am her legacy, living on.
Is this the legacy she wanted?
Something inside me tells me no, is that true? Did she not want her tormentor, the cause of our unravelling to suffer such a fate?
She must have.
But she was so gentle, so sweet.
No.
I was right, I did what she wanted.
But I didn't, did I?
I hope she can forgive me.
And if she can't—
I hope she never finds out what I've become.