“Hello, Kuroda. How are you feeling?”

I walked over to the table and sat down across from my therapist. The office had long since become a place where I could feel comfortable, and I no longer viewed my therapist’s gaze as one of scrutiny, but rather as a warmhearted look of genuine concern. 

“I’m good,” I replied, “though a little bit nervous.”

The therapist laughed quietly in response to that, and said, “That’s good to hear, but don’t be too worried. You’ll be alright.” He flipped through his papers, and warmly added, “You’ve come a long way. Although this will be your last session, it proves that you are ready to move forward.” 

Time had passed like the waves of the ocean, ebbing and flowing without an end. Throughout my four years of university, I had grown to learn a lot not only about myself, but also about the others around me. Nearing the end of my last year, I was finally at a place where I could trust those close to me, and no longer fear hurting them. Although my temperament was as it had always been, I had learned to channel the dark tendrils in my mind into more productive activities, and my hands, for the most part, remained untainted and clean. It took a lot of willpower, but I finally had reached a state where I was capable of exerting that willpower on my own. I thought back on my therapist’s words, Kazama’s words, and my mother’s words. Even my own words from the past, they felt different now. “I didn’t want to see myself ten years down the line, still the same and regretting it even more.” Roughly half that time had gone and went, and throughout my many experiences of failure, I had grown. I had changed, and I believed that I could still change. 

After graduating from university, it was my plan to return to my hometown, even if just to visit my family for a while. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go in the future, but I knew that it was time to face the people who had been trying so hard to support me all along. I had been caught up in the past, only thinking of their mistakes, but as I had hardened and turned bitter, they had also realized the consequences of their actions. They had been trying to make amends since, and it was about time that I finally answered them. 

Thinking of returning home, my mind wandered through the paths I took in that town, from my house to the school, to the hospital, to the stores. I saw images of the children who laughed and then cried, fallen over after being chased by me. I heard the voices of the young adolescents who whispered in my classroom, several feet away, fearful of being beaten. I heard the shouts of the delinquents who ganged up on me after school, saw the blood that dripped from their open wounds. I saw Noguchi, laughing and fighting by my side, and remembered the feeling of our backs pressed together as we sat under the sun. I saw Maeda, his arm around my shoulder, sharing with me details of life that I had not known. I heard Ono’s voice, his soft and silky speech, his tinkling laughter, and how easily it all turned cold and cruel. 

The memories of my past replayed themselves in my head, and it hurt a little to be reminded of the pain I went through. Even so, it was alright. The thought of those days no longer flooded the darkness into my mind, but only left a sharp piercing inside my chest. That sensation was a constant reminder of who I had been, and it served me well to hold onto myself. Thinking those kinds of thoughts, I took the train back to the city where I was raised, going backwards on that line I had escaped to shortly after graduating high school.

As I walked down the familiar, yet unfamiliar roads back home, I caught sight of a reminiscent figure. His hair had grown a little bit longer, but it remained the same shade of auburn as I had remembered it. I was a bit afraid of approaching him and making myself noticed, but a part of me deep down wanted to see how he was doing. Although we had grown distant in our third year of high school, that small part of me still looked up to him, still liked him. Because he was the first person that I had ever called my friend, he was still dear to me. 

While I was debating whether or not to call out to him, he suddenly turned around at the sound of my footsteps, and I felt forced to say something. 

“Ah, Taiga..,” I stumbled, “you, you still live here?”

He looked surprised for a moment, but then quickly smiled and walked over. “Yeah, I’ve been stuck here my whole life,” he replied, in a laughing manner. “Gotta take care of my mom, you know.”

Taking in my appearance, he said, “You’ve been gone for a while, Hanzou. How have you been?”