Yassssss more Yoshitoki.
“You really shouldn’t drink alone.” Yoshitoki pauses outside Arima’s office.
“I just got through a difficult meeting.” At his desk, Arima sips a glass of sake. Eto makes all their meetings difficult, and she bought the sake for him. Plus, she’s Eto, so she’ll probably blow up his apartment if he doesn’t drink it.
“May I join you?” Yoshitoki asks.
Arima waves him in, and Yoshitoki enters the stark office. Truth to be told, he’s always felt jealous of his half-brother. He wonders why he was the chosen heir instead of Kishou. Because he’s a full ghoul with a full life? How meaningful are extra years, when all he sees is his son’s misery?
“Tell me what you’re thinking, Arima.” Yoshitoki accepts a glass of Sake.
“No.” Arima smiles slightly as Yoshitoki takes his first sip. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“That our father berated Matsuri the other day.” Yoshitoki sighs. “I failed with him.”
“Kids are always rebellious. Do you ever think something was actually wrong with us, because we weren’t?” Arima leans back.
“Tsuneyoshi struck him. Matsuri. I’ve never hit him before.” Yoshitoki gulps down the sake. “Sometimes I think I should have, like Father did with me. But I promised his mother before they took her I wouldn’t.”
His eyes are sad. He rarely talks about Matsuri’s mother.
Don’t raise him like a Washuu. Send him to Germany, anywhere but here. Keep him safe, because I won’t be able to. Chika. He feels her hot tears on his face, and he wishes he’d been brave enough to rescue her.
The memories hurt too much. “And I don’t want to hit Matsuri. I … I would have rather Father struck me. How am I such a failure of a father?”
“Not wanting to hurt your child makes you a good father. It’s wrong that we’re in this position,” Arima says sadly.
“I wish I saw a way out.” Yoshitoki helps himself to more sake.
For a moment, Arima considers confessing. But no, Tsuneyoshi’s praise matters too much to Yoshitoki.
He settles for, “I think if we see a way – any way – we need to be ready to seize it.”
Yoshitoki nods slowly. “You give me hope, brother. You know I’ve always seen you as a brother.”
Arima feels oddly touched – or maybe that’s the sake. “Thank you, soft heart.”
Yoshitoki grins. Father used to call him that, and not in a nice way. But somehow, he takes pride in it. In every moment he can not be like his family – all the moments that don’t matter – he makes it count.
Mercy and Magic 