Work Text:
Kindaichi, a mystery novelist that everyone knows and is quite fond of.
Yokomizo, a regular citizen that no one knows and no one is particularly fond of. None except his only friend.
Yokomizo and Mushitaro had been friends since their early childhood. Although their interests were completely unalike, they found comfort in each other’s company.
Mushitaro hates mystery novels, but he likes the fact that his friend always invites him to help with his newest project. Although his ideas usually go unheard or ignored, and his friend’s obsession with mysteries was unbearable, he enjoyed this routine between them.
It was Kindaichi’s ultimate mystery that robbed the comfort from their friendship.
Yokomizo was diagnosed with gastric cancer, and was given a year at most. Being the man he is, not wanting to have any regrets in his life, wanting to make use of his last year, decided to write his ultimate mystery. The first wrong thing, was that he starred himself in his writing, and was planning to execute it in reality. The second, and worst, was that he wanted Mushitaro to be the one who kills him, which is extremely selfish of him, Mushitaro thinks. Yokomizo had set himself a cruel deadline to get this novel done, and Mushitaro was never so torn between his feelings before. He wanted to get this over with, he hated worrying about it all day and having nightmares all night, and at the same time he doesn’t want his friend to die even though he knows he’ll die soon anyway.
One Monday morning, Mushitaro goes out to visit his friend. The weather was surprisingly nice; it was sunny, but it wasn’t hot, and not too windy, just enough of a breeze. He decides to walk instead of taking a taxi.
He sees various types of blooming flowers and grown trees, sees kids getting ice cream, sees a couple sitting together by the river bank. It was relatively lively in the streets today.
He realises that there are so many blessings that people keep taking for granted.
People like Yokomizo.
He is well aware of his friend’s intentions and understands that he is not suicidal, yet still, he can’t help but feel bitter. How could he not? He’s known Yokomizo for so long now, it was hard to let your friend go after all.
Especially if you’re the one to send him off.
Yokomizo greets his friend as happily as he always does.
“Mushi kun! I’m glad you made it today! How have you been?”
Mushitaro wants to tell him that he’s been miserable, thinking about what Yokomizo wants, about his new novel, about how he won’t be able to fare without him. He wants to tell him so many things.
“I have been doing alright,” is all he says.
They have tea together, chat about everyday life aspects- or rather Mushitaro does all the talking and Yokomizo just listens, before Yokomizo brings up his new novel again.
He doesn’t mention its end. He only talks about how the story processes into the murder scene.
He finishes quicker than Mushitaro thought, but he was very glad for the end of this talk.
“I know you hate mysteries, Mushi kun, so I tried writing something different alongside my novel. I was aiming for something romantic, but.. I am not very sure about the outcome. That’s why I called you. Would you proofread it for me?”
Mushitaro nods a little too quickly. He always wondered how Yokomizo perceives topics that do not tackle suspense, like love.
It was just like he had expected.
It was so beautifully written, and reading it felt like floating on water. It was so.. sweet, despite its tragic ending.
Mushitaro felt his eyes collect tears.
“Why-“ he clears his throat quickly as the syllables came out hoarse and dry, “why does he die in the end? Why didn’t you let him live happily with his lover?”
“Do you not like it, Mushi kun?” Yokomizo tilts his head a little to the side, smiling sadly.
“You got the wrong idea, don’t frown so much. I like it, it’s quite nice, for your first time even,” I love it, he wanted to scream, it’s beautiful, the most beautiful piece of work I’ve ever read, I hope it’s not your last time, “I just don’t get why you ended it so tragically.”
“Life is nothing but a tragedy, Mushi kun. Don’t you think so?”
So this is how Yokomizo perceives love? Life? He thinks it’s a tragedy? It has to end sadly? Is this why he was being so selfish about his death?
“What if his partner didn’t want him to die? Why didn’t you consider this?”
Yokomizo looks visibly confused.
“Consider what? This is just a story, it’s not real. The characters are not real. Their feelings are not real. It is not like you to get emotional over a mere story, Mushi kun. Why is that? What is there to consider?”
Mushitaro wasn’t talking about the story.
“You don’t consider your characters’ feelings, even though your novels are the dearest to your heart? It’s really confusing, Yokomizo, it surely is,” Yokomizo meets him with a troubled expression, and it takes Mushitaro a minute too long to realise that the tears collected in his eyes were now streaming down his cheeks. “If that’s how you see human feelings in your stories, Yokomizo, as mere projects that you need to finish, then this is how you deal with them in reality, too,” he makes no move to wipe his own tears off. It was useless- Yokomizo was already staring at him, concerned.
“Mushi kun, that’s not true, I don’t-“
“Oh but you do!” Mushitaro interrupts.
“I understand your dreams and ambitions. I understand your style of writing. I understand that you want to achieve the ultimate mystery, and to do that it has to be executed in reality. I appreciate the trust you placed in me when you asked me to be the one who kills you. But have you considered how the murderer would feel? Have you considered how I would feel, Yokomizo?”
Yokomizo was too dumbstruck to answer. He was still processing the fact that Mushitaro was crying.
“I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want you to die at all. Do you know what I want? What I have wanted for years? I want to be able to see you everyday. I want to hold your hand, to go on walks with you, to wake up next to you, to try and brush the huge mass over your head that you call hair, I want to kiss you, I want to see you smile more often, I want to make you happy, and I want you to feel how much I love you. I know your stomach is really bad, but a man can only dream. I dream that you’d grant my wishes and die like you’re actually meant to, not by my own hands. Kill you?! You’re ridiculous! How could I kill the man I love?”
“Mushi kun..”
Mushitaro realises what he just said, and further sobs. He hasn’t ever accepted his feelings for his friend, he knew they were pointless, his friend’s top priority is mysteries, he most certainly didn’t want to confess to Yokomizo like this.
“Mushi kun.. oh dear.. my dear, dear mushitaro.. I’m so sorry, dear. I assumed you felt despise towards me, so I didn’t-“
“Despise you?” Mushitaro cuts off. Was he trying too hard to hide his feelings? Why would Yokomizo think so?
Yokomizo manages a small smile, even though it was painfully obvious that he was still troubled about his friend’s sudden outburst.
“You know, Mushi kun, I never had any regrets, but I just realised that I do have one.”
“What is that?” Mushitaro rubs his now sore eyes.
“I regret not telling you how I’ve felt about you for years. If only I knew you carried all that love for me…” he wipes the tears off Mushitaro’s face, cupping his cheeks gently.
Mushitaro leans into the tender touch, then leans a little more, further more, until his head meets Yokomizo’s shoulder, who immediately wraps his arms around the ravenette.
“For the record, Mushi kun,” Yokomizo cradles his friend- no, his lover.
“I will write you another romantic novel, and I will make sure everyone is happy at the end.”
Mushitaro smiles.
“That would be great, Yokomizo.”