Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wakes up to a kiss on the cheek, and a laugh.

“Happy birthday, dear”, she tells him, a smile on her face. His sons are awake, too. Much earlier than they'd usually be on a weekend like this. Standing by the bed, now taking the chance to jump on him, hugging him in a big pile.

He laughs. He smiles. He’s happy.

He’d taken the day off, he remembers. Spends the entire day with his family.

Like routine, like he's done every birthday before.

It’s nice.

When it comes time for birthday wishes, his is simple.

Although he doesn't believe in wishes, his is the same every year.

Smiling, he blows out the candles.

He wishes that they stay this way, years into the future. Forever.

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He wakes up in a daze. Opens his phone to check the time, the day.

6am, 24th October.

6am… enough time for him to get to the hospital before visiting hours.

…

… the day meant something too, he thinks, but he couldn't quite recall.

Slowly, reluctantly, and with much, much difficulty, he pushes himself off the bed. His feet brush against pieces of glass he had yet to find the time or energy to sweep up, and he sidesteps them, telling himself he’d do it when he got back.

…He knows he won't. He's thought the same thing for weeks now.

Regardless, he gets up, gets changed, and starts for the door.

He looks at the car keys on the table.

(He'd put them there the day of the accident. When he'd come back home after rushing to the hospital. When he'd, in his daze, placed them down without putting them back where they belonged.

He'd tried to drive to work, a few days later, when the shock had worn off. When his days of leave had run out.

…

He found he couldn't do it. That it Hurt. That his hands shook and his breathing sped up. That his vision blurred and his chest was tight and uncomfortable.

He didn't want to drive anymore, he thinks.)

…

He walks to the hospital.

He lets his body pull himself through his routine. On days he wasn’t on shift, he’d wake up early anyways and walk to the hospital. He'd stay from the start of visitation hours to the end.

It’s been routine, ever since…

…

He’d promised to be there when they woke up.

Besides, he couldn't stand being at home alone.

(It was so empty, so silent.)

He wasn't on shift today. That was alright, though. It means he can spend more time with them. Spend visitation with them instead of just his breaks. Can be there when (if) they wake up

He walks into their room.

It’s routine. He stays, for as long as he can, talking to them. Filling the silence with his own voice, hoping one of theirs would respond.

He must seem callous to the outside eye. He seemed quite put together for a man whose entire family was…

…They're fine. They're alive. They will survive. They will wake up. He's doing all this for that reason, isn't he? 

If they don't…

…

They will. He's sure of it.

… He will do anything to make sure of it. 

He sits in silence for a while, the constant sound of machines filling the air, the beeping that told him they were alive never ending.

“I’ve just remembered something.” He says aloud, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence and the constant beeping of the heart monitor. “It's… my birthday, today. I'm twenty nine this year, isn't that right?”

His own birthday wasn't something he tended to remember. They only really celebrated because… because his family cared. 

There was no one to care, now that they're all… asleep. But they'll wake up.

(They have to)

“We promised to be there for each other's milestones, right? No matter what… You… you've got to be awake, when I turn thirty. At least to keep the promise. Please.”

He chokes back a sob. Tries to keep his voice steady, as if anyone but he could hear himself.

They're not dead. Just… asleep. There's nothing to be crying over.

“Hey,” he says, holding his wife’s hand. It's still warm, still showed signs of life. His voice is barely louder than a whisper. “...I know I never really believed in birthday wishes, but…”

Her hand is in his. His hands are shaking.

Hers are eerily still.

“This year… my wish is that… you’d all wake up.” 

He fights back tears. Whispers out a plea that only he can hear.

“Please.”

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“Shidou-san… It’s your birthday, isn't it? Today? Why didn’t you say anything…” Muu looks at him, pleading eyes demanding an answer.

It startles him, a little, out of his half-daze. He’d been… out of it, really, just watching the other prisoners go about their days. The question, directed at him, caught him off guard. Was it..?

“Birthday...... Now that you mention it, it has gotten to that time of year.” He’d forgotten.  Really, he’s surprised she knew. He didn’t even notice it himself… It was never something he bothered to remember, anyway.

…Huh. This would be the first one since…

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Kusunoki-kun. I appreciate it.” He says, giving her what he hopes is a smile.

She stares at him blankly for a moment.

And then she pouts.

“…Shidou-san, you don’t seem very happy.” She seems to see right through him, face stuck in a frown. “It’s your birthday today, so you should smile more.” She insists.

Ah…

“No, I am smiling... even if it doesn’t show.” 

Not a lie. He’s never been all that expressive, anyway. 

“I’m really glad that you’re celebrating for me, Kusunoki-kun. Really.” 

The frown doesn't leave Muu's face, despite his reassurances. “Is that so......?” 

She pouts again, not phased by his attempts at placating her. “It doesn’t look like it at all though. I’m not satisfied.” She declares indignantly, before turning around and walking off. He thinks he hears her muttering something about a “plan to make him smile for once”, but he doesn't catch anything else. 

He lets out a small chuckle. It was nice of her, to go out of her way to remember, to celebrate his birthday. She was a nice kid.

…

He lets out a sigh. He can’t seem to shake the air of melancholy around him, even on a day like this. 

Maybe it’s because he knows it’s nothing special. 

After all, the birthday of a murderer…

Who would celebrate such a thing?

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He doesn’t notice the passing of his birthday for a good while, since the second trial started. 

It’s a good thing, he thinks. Not enough time to think about trivial things like his birthday, not enough time to mull over how he feels about his verdict. 

…His verdict…

Forgiven… how could the warden decide such a thing..? How could they find it in them to forgive a murderer like him..? And how could he even think that he wants to live, when he knows he's drenched in sin that he can never-

…No, he can’t think about that now. Mahiru… she was counting on him. They all were. He doesn't have the time to stand around like this.

Idly, he wonders about the consequences of placing lives so fragile into hands like his, that cut short so many lives already, even if he was integral to their survival…

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Mahiru coughing weakly, and he’s by her side as fast as he can. Mentally, he chides himself. Didn't he just tell himself not to waste time thinking about those things?

Mahiru insists she’s alright when he asks after her, smiling at him weakly. 

“Shidou-san… You have a family, right?” She asks. “Could you tell me more about them..? Please?”

She’s asked him this before.

The days blur together, but he remembers. Kazui had asked him about his family, too, earlier in the day. 

(Was that today? He didn’t even know what day it was, anymore.)

What did she ask him again?

…right. 

His family.

His wife, his two sons. His wife and children.

Children were a joy to have. A life to watch and help grow, a link to the future he couldn't be a part of… A future he no longer deserved to be a part of. 

…Children who should have been there, been here, now stuck forever in his past.

They were gone, now. It was just him, now. The one who didn't deserve to live.

Mahiru, too, was young. Too young for everything happening to her. She had so much to live for. She had dreams, hope that he didn't have. He couldn’t let her down.

To leave something behind… that was all his life had meaning for. His life would have no meaning if he couldn't even manage to save one person.

“Shidou-san..?”

Her voice shakes him out of his thoughts, and he quickly gathers himself. Right. Reminiscing, regretting, grieving… these were things he didn't have time for, anymore. He had to focus.

“My apologies, Shiina-kun. Of course I’d share more about my family with you. I’m sure you’ll experience something similar, some day. The feeling of having someone… of being there for them… leaving behind something for the future you’re not a part of.”

He has no hope, no future.

He’s going to ensure she has one.

To save her life…

It’s the only meaning his life could have, now.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This year, an empty, silent cell.

A man walks into the cell, standing in the middle of it for a few seconds, before sitting on the bed.

He twirls an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Leans back. Sighs. 

There are eyebags, deeper than the year before, under his eyes. He looks like he's aged five years in just one. The man looks tired. He is tired. 

“....Shidou-kun. Uh… happy birthday.” He says simply, to the empty air around him.

“I'm… I wish you were still here for it. Things haven't been going well… you could handle everything better than this old man could, I'm sure, haha …”

…

“You were a lot more of an adult than I was, to be honest. And you’re ten years younger, too... Isn't that funny…”

The air is still. After much, much too long, the man stands up.

“Well, I'd invite you for a smoke, you know, a break from everything, at least for your birthday, but, ah…” 

“...”

“I… I'm sorry. I wish I did more. I should’ve.”

“I'll… get going now.”

“Sorry.”

…

“...Rest well. Happy birthday, Shidou-kun.”

Chapter Text

He opens his eyes, to his family standing over him.

Surprise! They say. Happy birthday.

He smiles, laughs. A real laugh, the kind that you have to close your eyes for.

... A sharp pain, in his stomach. Something... Warm, wet, spreads across his body. Spread? How long has the feeling been there?

His hand moves on its own, patting (the air/the head of a child)

He opens his eyes.

His family.... Stands above him?

His hand, patting the head of his eldest.

(How? It's been... God, how long since he last saw them with their eyes open? Smiling like that? Looking at him?)

(He's glad he still remembers their faces. That he'll die with this memory)

They smile at him. (If he closes his eyes again, he can imagine that the pressure is a hug. He doesn't really feel the pain anymore anyway. That's probably concerning, but there's no need to think about it when he'll be dead in a minute)

He smiles. He doesn't close his eyes. He wants to see them.

Even as the light leaves his eyes, as his vision fades to black, as his consciousness slowly leaves him.

He'll see them soon.