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It takes a while to get used to the empty student council room. To filling out paperwork line by line with no voice to complain of having missed getting to walk his precious Ao-chan home, or of how the third years have made a habit of not returning important forms on time. On more than one occasion, Teru finds himself turning to speak to a person who is no longer there- words dying in his throat once he catches sight of the empty seat beside him.
The feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach is an ugly one. Not grief- for grief is a familiar friend of one born into a circle of exorcists, and Teru knows its feeling all too well. No- the sensation that eats away at him, that has him training twice as hard until his hands bleed and he has to ask Kou to help him bandage them- the sensation is guilt.
Because if Aoi Akane were a supernatural, then Teru would have faced no qualms about letting him travel to the world below, would feel no regret when he did not resurface with that less-than-human heart of his still beating.
But Teru’s job is to slay spirits and protect humans- and Akane was human through and through.
(How could he have died, after all, if he was anything less?)
And so the student council room is empty aside from Teru, the pen he holds puts a little too much pressure on his bandages, and guilt curls up and makes a home in his stomach like a dangerous poison.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Were Teru not well accustomed to the presence of ghosts and apparitions, he would have assumed he was seeing things. Because there in the doorway, stands Akane. It was never mentioned exactly how he died, but the hole in his chest, where the edges of his translucent form fade into static- it’s enough of a clue, for sure. Teru stands, and the guilt sinks its teeth in further.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, wary. Because Akane should have passed on- he was never the sort to harbour regrets, never the kind Teru would expect to remain aimless upon the near shore after death. It almost frightens him, just how much he’s realised he knows about Akane. Because present on the near shore or not, thoughts of him have haunted Teru day in and day out. An apparition of his own creation.
Akane, as real as he’s ever been, stands before him “I figured that, if anyone were able to see me, it would be you,” He smiles, somewhat bitter. “I didn’t fancy taking my chances with number 7, or any of the other school mysteries for that matter.”
Because Akane has always hated supernaturals. Teru had mocked him for it once- after all, how can the keeper of the school clocks hate his own kind- but now all it does is make him feel ill. (A human has died, and therefore, he has failed.)
“I mean what are you still doing on the near shore?” Teru asks again, thankful that his voice manages to retain some form of normalancy.
“I think I wanted to tell Ao-chan something.” Akane looks confused almost, like he isn’t quite sure.
But of course, Teru thinks, a little angrier than he possibly should be. Because with Akane, everything is about Ao-chan, Ao-chan, Ao-chan, never sparing a second glance to-
“But I don’t want to any more,” Akane cuts his thoughts short with only a few words. “There’s nothing here for me any more- I just want to move on.” He looks weary, more so than Teru ever saw him appear in life, as if his purpose has slipped between his fingertips and drained away through the floorboards below his feet.
“You know how spirits work just as well as I do,” Teru comments, trying to ignore the way the feeling of guilt grows heavier by the second ( could have, should have done something to help.) “You know that taking care of unfinished regrets is the only way to pass on.”
For a long while, it is silent, still aside from the sun setting beyond the student council room windows. Passing right through Akane, as though he was barely there at all. Then-
“There’s one other way.” His line of sight slides over to where Teru’s sword is propped up against the desk in the corner, and Teru freezes on the spot.
“I-” For all the speeches that he has made in front of the school, for all the dangerous supernaturals he has talked down to, Teru has never known his words fail him so terribly before. Still in the doorway, Akane smiles that same tired, bitter smile.
“It’s your job, isn’t it? I bet it’d give you a kick or something to finally get to finish me off, you cruel bastard.” He laughs, heart only half in it, but a welcome change in his expression all the same. The guilt rises up, almost nauseating in its intensity, and Teru finds that he has to grip the edge of the desk to steady himself.
“I can’t.” He chokes out, feeling all too uneasy.
“You always seemed plenty eager before- what’s so different now?” Akane finally takes a step in through the doorway, translucent form slipping in and out of view before Teru’s eyes. In theory, it should be easy. To kill an apparition that can barely hold a physical form, with little attachment to the near shore- it should be almost child's play for even an amateur exorcist, nevermind one of Teru’s caliber. Yet still, he feels more afraid than he has done in a long while.
What makes him different? He asks himself, desperate for an answer. Because he always has been, a small, quiet part responds. Different- the only school mystery Teru would let wander freely, the only person Teru would trust to do his student council duties on time, the only person who never spared Teru a second glance (The only person Teru wanted to-)
“Please.” Akane cuts him short once more. “I’m tired, Teru.”
Upon any other time, Teru would scold him for using his name so casually.
This time- all he can do is still his shaking hands, and slowly collect his sword.
It’s an easy routine- one Teru has practiced since he was old enough to hold a fake wooden sword and exorcise play-pretend demons in his back garden. Predictable, perhaps, but the apparitions who see his movements only do so once, after all. The difference this time- Akane does not fight back, and Teru closes his eyes, because he cannot bear to see him smile.
His sword clatters metal-heavy to the wooden floor, and a pair of cold, not-all-there arms wrap around his shoulders, face buried somewhere against his shoulder. No heart beats behind Akane’s ribcage, not like when he was alive (when he was human), and no breath leaves his lungs, no blood moves through his veins.
What was oh so human once is no longer there at all.
“Thanks, Teru.” His name, once again in Akane’s voice, and then nothing more.
Teru opens his eyes, and the student council room is as empty as it ever was.
(For the first-born son of a family of exorcists, grief is a familiar friend. And as he sits back down in his chair, picks up his pen, and forces his shaking hands to steady- Teru recognises it all too well.)