Author: Silver Symphony
Summary: His regret will be his liberator.
She's trembling. Sweat glistens on her forehead. Her entire life has led up to this moment, to this confrontation. She would picture it in her head, sometimes. And this isn't how she imagined it to be.
White skin stretched tightly over bone replaces the muscles in her memory. His face, smiling and handsome in her dreams, is gaunt and dejected. And his eyes… they were so lovely when she would picture them. Almost like hazel. Or green. Stunning eyes, she would dream that he had. Yet his eyes, eyes that can scarcely see, struggle to stare up at her. Devoid of light. Devoid of warmth. She can hardly see their color inside the tiny, dim shack.
She's disappointed. Enraged. And, strangely, full of pity. Pity towards a man she has spent most of her life hating. Her hate manifested itself into fantasies of striking him. Hurting him. Piercing his skin until it bleeds. Yet time has already wielded its cruel punishment. Her revenge is denied. He's so weak now. He cannot raise his body from the futon. She couldn't strike him now that he's defenseless and pathetic.
She speaks to him now. Speaks to him about years of neglect. Years of lies. Years of hardship. As she talks, she's grateful that he cannot interrupt. Her heart wouldn't be able to endure the stress of arguing.
She's done weaving the sad tale. No shouting occurred, no blood shed. Only her words. And she hopes that it will be enough.
He does not speak. His face is remarkably passive. And whether out of weariness or apprehension to face her, his eyes are closed. His lack of emotion pushes her to make her final decision. A decision she has expected that she would make, but would only choose once they've met. She utters her final words and heads for the door.
Seizou's words are a whisper she cannot ignore. Fuu pauses. Again, he calls to her. She strains her ears to hear him where she stands. She's afraid to approach his bedside again. She might not ever want to leave.
Despite the hoarseness, she hears Seizou's every word. She hears the regret. The sadness. The pessimism that he will ever earn Fuu's forgiveness. And—the most alarming to Fuu— the desire to die.
By Fuu's hand.
She's stunned. And terrified. She is incapable of killing anyone. No amount of hate could motivate her to do so.
Yet, as she glances back at him, she would be more merciful by ending his life than allowing him to suffer through his misery and illness.
She shakes off the morbid thought. Freeing her father of such anguish is little consolation. Life is too precious a thing to waste. She is no reaper. Such a decision is not hers to make and he should not force her into doing it.
Seizou senses her indecision and speaks again, his voice weaker. He's begging. Begging for Fuu to end his life so that he'll finally be able to repent for his errors. Death is the only way he can achieve the ultimate repentance. And it's only fitting if it's done by the root of his many regrets.
Seizou's sorrow is almost palpable. Tears prick her eyes. How could she prolong his death when it causes him so much agony? Years ago, she would have gladly left him to suffer. She suffered due to his negligence; shouldn't she return the favor?
Her heart tells her no. Killing him would be the ultimate kindness. And it would be done out of love, not hate. And she loves him, despite the painful memories he caused her. She loves him for the sacrifices he made to ensure her and her mother's safety. She loves him for finally confirming the very thing she wanted in return.
And somehow, loving him justifies the terrible thing she's about to do.
She tiptoes over to his side. His eyes are wide, expectant. She kneels beside the futon. And the sight of hazel causes her tears flow faster. Indeed, his eyes are hazel, lovely pools of hazel.
He pleads with those magnificent, frail eyes. Her hands hover over his face. And he slightly nods his head almost as if to say yes. She bows her head as she smothers his mouth and nose. In relief, Seizou's eyes flutter close.
He doesn't struggle. He only groans. And the sounds make her so uncomfortable, despite her refusal to watch. She presses her hands harder into his face, afraid that she'll lose her resolve and remove them.
His body twitches from the lack of air. Fuu's hands are shaking. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut; it hurts. She doesn't want to do this anymore. She wishes that she had left Seizou to his own destruction.
The twitching subsides. The groaning eventually stops. His body ceases to draw air.
Her tears never cease.
And for years, she will wonder whether she caused more pain instead of relieving it.