Raijin, you ARE the father

Raijin could see the love between the brothers as clear as day, with the way that they instinctively gravitated toward each other to protect themselves from the hurt that rolled from them. He’d shared that love with his own brother, his twin. Takemikazuchi had been for him, in a way, what Kuroo was to Usagi. Though Raijin had never been a spitfire, he had been bold, and he had been rambunctious, and he’d rubbed Hattori in all of the wrong ways. His brother had been the mediator between the three of them, and had talked Raijin out of too many stupid pranks or decisions to remember clearly. He’d been the sun, and Raijin a planet, warmed by his life giving light, forever gravitating around him. Until he couldn’t anymore. Until that light had been ripped away from him and he’d been slingshotted into infinity, drifting in the cold with nothing to anchor him. Hell, he still felt like that sometimes. There was a hole in him that would never be filled, even with all the love he received because he’d lost a part of his very own soul the day Take had died.

Both men had gone silent upon his offerings, and he watched with alarm as Kuroo picked up the spices and began to scurry away like he was leaving right as Usagi spoke words that punched him in the gut so hard that he took in an audible breath. The floppy eared man, previously so hardy and angry, and still partially the latter, looked much like Raijin’s youngest pups did when they had a bad dream and didn’t want to be alone. He could have even sworn that they’d said the same words. If the Genji man had been standing, he would have stumbled under the weight of the emotions that flooded him.

Usagi was pleading with him to stay, to not leave, the unspoken words again echoing into the air and a rare occurrence happened. Raijin was lost for words. His jaw opened and closed, floundering, trying to work through what he was feeling and all the things he suddenly wanted to say in that moment. Then Kuroo came back in, his cheeks wet and his eyes red from crying, he dropped another bombshell. Shima.

Yes, he knew that name. She’d been one of his Aunt’s lady’s maids, scarcely a bit older than him. He’d never talked to her much, but she’d always been in the background, catering to the pale woman’s needs of her day-to-day life. He vaguely brought a face to mind, but it was foggy. A splattering of gray and white, pretty, as all lady’s maids were, but not outstanding. Intelligent pink eyes, lowered beneath dark lashes, bowing to Kiyo, then to him in another moment, then beneath him in another…then…oh shit.

His golden eyes closed as he took in another shuddering breath, his tongue working to find the words in his mouth. “I…yes. I know the name, I know your mother…though not well,” he grimaced while saying the last part. “But, I didn’t know about either of you. Not until today, when Hattori hinted at it. If I had known, I wouldn’t have left.” He wouldn’t have…right? God, everything had been so fucked up right after the night of their conception. The ambush, Take’s death, Hattori’s supposed death, his drunken attack on the Shogun, only to be nearly killed himself in a stupid, planless rage. Raijin had been so far from himself that he wasn’t sure what he would or wouldn’t have done, and that, perhaps, hurt even more.

“I am…so sorry. So much more sorry than you can even fathom. And I know sorry can never make it better, or if it ever will be better, but…god, I don’t even know what to say. You deserve more than a sorry excuse for a man rambling when I’m sure you’ve wanted answers for so long. I’ll give them to you, whatever I can and whatever I know and whatever I have, it’s yours.” His voice was thick and, without realizing, tears of his own had started to fall from his eyes. They traveled down his cheeks, trailing along the large scar on the left side of his face. The salt within dried the sensitive skin there, irritating it and causing it to itch and burn, but he did nothing about it. He deserved the pain, needed the reminder of another stupid mistake he’d made in his life.

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