Fic for myxstorie
Title: Surely the Rain Will Wash Away All Our Sins
By: korn_lotr_luver
Pairing: Akame
Rating: PG-13
Genre/Warnings: Angst, Romance, Language
Notes: Thank you K for being my last minute beta; your help was much appreciated. The lyrics come from the song "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead (Final Fantasy Remix)" by Stars.
Summary: Live through this and we won't look back.
"God that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said "Yes I think we've met before"
In that instant it started to pour
Captured a taxi despite all the rain
We drove in silence across Pont Champlain
And all of that time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name."
A man steps onto an empty Montreal sidewalk. A black umbrella is slung underneath his arm, its elongated shape a dark smudge against the lighter gray of the man's winter coat. A slight chill sweeps over the dampened sidewalk, gently brushing against his scarlet-brown hair in a lover's caress, blowing a few stray wisps of bangs into his face, and he pulls his red scarf just a little bit tighter around his neck, hunching his back against the cold. He moves towards a wooden bench sitting underneath a beech tree, a dripping neighbor to the oppressive wrought-iron entryway of a park path.
The man settles onto the wet slats of the bench, neatly folding his coat underneath his legs as he sits. The metal tip of his umbrella rasps against the concrete sidewalk as he props it against the armrest of his resting place. The man looks before him; a taxi drives by in a flash of color, yellow streaks of paint and red whirls of headlights floating away in the encroaching dark of clouds. It will rain again soon. He waits.
Time passes, and more cars slip by, known only to the man by audible swishes of tires over the puddles of rainwater gathered on the road. The chill deepens as the clouds grow darker, and the man pulls the flaps of his coat tighter across his body. He flips his wrist over, frowning at the face of his Rolex watch before impatiently looking up and down the sidewalk. Whoever he is waiting for is late. The man sighs.
The soft tapping of dress shoes against the sidewalk alerts the man of a person approaching. He turns his head, glancing down the park path behind him, and sees a figure making its way through the silent park. The hanging branches from the surrounding trees cast dark shadows over the walkway, blocking the man from the dim illumination of the day. He's tall, and a fedora is angled with poise on the man's head, blocking his eyes from sight. He is wearing a similar gray coat, and his neck is bare of a scarf. He has no umbrella.
The man on the bench stands up. He grabs the wooden handle of his umbrella and takes a few hesitant steps toward the newcomer.
"Red scarf," the man in the hat says, as he approaches.
"Fedora," the first man replies. The second man reaches up with black gloved fingers, tilting the hat back and revealing his chocolate-brown eyes. A flicker of recognition passes over the first man's face; his eyes widen slightly in surprise.
"You're... Jin?"
The man smiles. "Yes, and I think we've met before."
A rumble of thunder rolls through the sky as an oppressive message of rain, and in that instant it starts to pour.
* * *
The first time they were two young college students, Japanese transfers to a Canadian University, both surviving with a bumbling mastery of French and English, and both desperate for understandable companionship. Their friendship turned into love, and then into something else, and then, it ended. They parted, and they never meant to meet again.
The second time they were introduced by a friend of a friend, set up on a date between two lonely souls. One was waiting for a red scarf. The other, a hat and a man named Jin.
They hadn't known they'd met before.
* * *
Red Scarf undoes his umbrella as the heavens open, and the pounding pellets of the downpour bounce off its stretched fabric in a cacophony of sound.
"I guess we'll need a taxi," Jin yells over the sound of the rain, and he quickly ducks underneath the other's umbrella. "Mind if we share?" he asks, gesturing towards the other's fingers clenching the handle.
"Not at all."
"Merci beaucoup," Jin replies in French. A taxi rushes by on the road, and he quickly raises a gloved hand towards the vehicle. "Taxi," he calls out. The car whizzes by; in the haze of rain, the driver is unable to see them.
"Infernal rain," Jin curses, switching back to Japanese. "I'll get one, hang on.
He runs out into the street, and despite all the rain, he eventually manages to get a taxi, waving it down as it rushes just by him. He motions towards his companion, and Red Scarf steps off the sidewalk, walking quickly towards the car, stepping delicately to avoid the puddles. He flings open the side door of the taxi and slides in.
The seat of the taxi groans in protest as Jin follows his companion into the vehicle. They flash uneasy smiles. Water from Red Scarf's umbrella has dripped onto the leathery seat, and the overhead light from the taxi skates like silver across the pools of water. They shut the car doors and oppressive silence makes itself known.
"Pont Champlain," Jin says. The driver nods and peels away from the curb.
The sound of the rain pounding onto the roof of the car is the only noise that fills the taxi. Rivers of rain seemingly float down the front glass, only to be sliced off by the rhythmic ‘swish-swish' of the taxi's windshield wipers. They reach the Champlain Bridge, and the waters of the St. Lawrence River are a torpid beast below them.
‘God, it's strange to see him again,' Jin thinks.
Some of his memories are as clear as day; dazzling smiles and jubilant laughter, promises whispered under bedcovers, caresses shared in passion. But their past together was ten years ago. Now, most of the memories are black silhouettes, shapes fluttering just on the edge of Jin's conscious mind, teasingly close yet intangible. He frowns.
It's his ex-lover sitting there next to him, and he's trying to remember the other man's name.
The man with the red scarf glances towards his companion leaned up against the taxi door. Jin's frowning at the window, eyes glaring at the slowly meandering droplets smeared against the glass. ‘He's sad,' he thinks. He sighs quietly and turns his head, staring dejectedly at the river below them. Reflections of the red and white lights from passing cars glance off the puddles of rainwater on the highway, casting an eerie glow into the taxi. Jin's face is tinted red.
They drive in silence across Pont Champlain.
* * *
"This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
Tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in
Now you're outside me, you see all the beauty
Repent all your sin
It's nothing but time and a face that you lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose
I'll write you a postcard; I'll send you the news
From the house down the road from real love"
They leave Pont Champlain behind and the car is still ghostly silent, tension thick and oppressive like the rain clouds currently swathing the entire sky in ominous gray. There's a brilliant flash somewhere over the river, sudden illumination drawing shadows in the interior of the taxi. A rumble of thunder follows.
Jin still hasn't remembered the other's name.
Red Scarf sighs, and Jin looks over, studying his companion. The other has placed his umbrella on the floor of the car, and Jin watches in fascination as he pulls up the sleeves of his coat, revealing white, almost porcelain-like skin. A scar mars the crease of his left elbow. It's a tiny fleck, a small and pale crescent-shaped discoloration of skin. The overhead light glances off the scar, makes it almost radiant in the illumination, and Jin is suddenly compelled to touch the mark, feel the healed skin and remember how it had gotten there. Filled with remorse, he reaches out with shaking fingers to touch the scar. He pauses, hesitating just before contact.
"Don't."
Startled, Jin looks up and sees the other's intense eyes immediately, taking in the sight of him glaring, having seen what Jin had been about to do. Still holding eye contact, Red Scarf pulls his sleeve down hastily, as if covering his scar will shield him from the constant reminder of pain and heartbreak that it represents.
Jin knows what that mark is from. It's his own damn fault.
"I'm sorry."
His companion huffs and finally turns away, eyes now studying the passing streets. "Sorry?"
"Yes."
Another huff, then silence. "You don't even remember my name," the other says suddenly, voice startling Jin in the silence of the car, and as he speaks his breath fogs the glass in front of him. He reaches up and draws a delicate finger across the window, leaving behind symbols in the residue. From his angle, Jin cannot see what he has written. "You don't, do you?"
It's the elephant in the room. The floor opens up and swallows him. "It's been some time." Jin makes up an excuse. "You lose faces and names along the way."
"Never was important enough for you."
"That's low."
"Yeah, well. It's the truth."
If Jin replies, he'll be lying. He says nothing.
* * *
It's silent again, omnipresent quiet that chills the interior of the taxi. Hostile, cold; it reminds him of their past, the memories of Jin and him together, tied together with obligations and commitments that slowly tore at their insides, breaking them down until they were hollow, empty.
"I chose to feel it." His voice startles him. He hadn't meant to say that to Jin.
There's a long pause before his companion replies. "I know."
"Why couldn't you choose?"
Jin sighs.
He looks away from Jin, flicking his eyes forward. He immediately sees the dark-brown eyes of the Arab man driving the taxi; they are curiously gazing at them in the rearview mirror. Their gazes meet, and the man turns his attention back onto the road.
"I don't know."
He feels like he should stop, but the words keep coming; an unstoppable, torrential force. "That's what ruined us."
A guilty sigh. "I know."
"We could've had it together."
No answer.
"It feels like… it feels like I live down the street from that; I can see it just up the road, unreachable; and all I can do is send you postcards. That's what we are now. That's what I am."
The car plunges into silence once more. Minutes pass, and then Jin speaks.
"I-"
His voice falls short. For once, he has no reply.
* * *
"Live through this and you won't look back
Live through this and you won't look back."
Live through this, and they won't look back.
* * *
"There's one thing I want to say so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted, I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you, I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save."
Silence. It rules over the interior of the taxi, heavy and oppressive between the two of them. The driver coughs. Cars swish by in blurs of light reflected on the road. The tires of the taxi hiss over the wet road.
The man with the red scarf steals a quick glance at Jin. There are so many things between them that need to be acknowledged, so many things he wants to say, but he can't find the right words, can't find the will within him to brave the consequences and take the plunge.
"I guess... I guess you'd just want to go home then," Jin says suddenly, almost making him flinch in surprise.
He flicks his gaze towards Jin's face, and is surprised to see Jin looking at him with steady, questioning eyes. It's the first they've really looked at each other, and the words bubble up, boiling to the surface with a determination that scares him.
"You were what I wanted. Exactly what I wanted, Jin. You were… you were perfect, and I gave what I gave but it wasn't goddamn enough, and you slipped away from me, and there was no-" his voice chokes, and he swallows. "Nothing I could have done to get you to stay."
"I-"
"Stop, stop," he yells, and it takes a minute for Jin to realize he's talking to the taxi driver. The Arab man quickly pulls over to the side of the road, stopping with a screech alongside the sidewalk.
"I'm not sorry I met you, but I'm not sorry it's over either," he says, his words hurried, almost slurred together, and before Jin can reply he hurls the door open, ignoring the rain as he steps out of the taxi. He flings open his umbrella, the soothing ‘pat pat pat' of rain bouncing off the material erupting around him instantaneously, and he turns away from the taxi, striding quickly away.
He hears the other car door slamming open and closed, and Jin cries out ‘Wait," the sound faint over the roaring of the pounding rain.
There's a flash of lightning, and he turns around.
* * *
It's as instantaneous as the flash of lightning that paints the street in eerie blue.
Rushing after the retreating form, rain falling about him and almost veiling him from sight, Jin suddenly remembers the other's name.
"Kame," he breathes out.
A rumble of thunder rolls above them.
* * *
Kame sucks in a deep breath, tightens his grip on his black umbrella. "That's me," he replies, and even to him, his voice sounds forlorn, lost. "Nice of you to remember."
"Kame, it's-."
He can't let Jin finish, he can't let Jin utter the words that will make him pause and consider and no doubt choose to try again, so he hurried blurts,
"There's nothing between us to save."
Kame starts when a hand appears underneath his chin, slender and gentle fingers tilting his head up. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at the rain covered sidewalk below him.
Jin is smiling that smile, that smile that makes Kame's chest ache and his heart flutter and had made it so hard for him to leave that summer day, ten years ago.
"And yet here we are, both alone," Jin says. "Ten years. Ten years, Kame, and we still couldn't find anyone else we would rather be with, we would rather love."
"You just let me go. You just watched me walk out."
"And now here we are."
"We can't go back to what we were."
"Meeting again after all these years."
"We have to stop chasing after the past; there's nothing left. Nothing."
"We can make something new together. Reset. Start over."
Kame takes a deep breath.
"And are you going to make the choice this time?"
Jin stops, his whole body quivering with surprise, seemingly held suspended by an unseen force. "Wait. Wait, what?"
"You heard me."
"I... I don't-" Jin pauses, studying Kame's face like the answer will be hidden in the depths of his eyes. He takes a deep breath, and the uncertainty falls away in a cascade of emotions. His face is calm, and determined.
"Yes," he says, with utter conviction.
Kame finally allows himself to smile.
* * *
The rain pounds around them.
By: korn_lotr_luver
Pairing: Akame
Rating: PG-13
Genre/Warnings: Angst, Romance, Language
Notes: Thank you K for being my last minute beta; your help was much appreciated. The lyrics come from the song "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead (Final Fantasy Remix)" by Stars.
Summary: Live through this and we won't look back.
"God that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said "Yes I think we've met before"
In that instant it started to pour
Captured a taxi despite all the rain
We drove in silence across Pont Champlain
And all of that time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name."
A man steps onto an empty Montreal sidewalk. A black umbrella is slung underneath his arm, its elongated shape a dark smudge against the lighter gray of the man's winter coat. A slight chill sweeps over the dampened sidewalk, gently brushing against his scarlet-brown hair in a lover's caress, blowing a few stray wisps of bangs into his face, and he pulls his red scarf just a little bit tighter around his neck, hunching his back against the cold. He moves towards a wooden bench sitting underneath a beech tree, a dripping neighbor to the oppressive wrought-iron entryway of a park path.
The man settles onto the wet slats of the bench, neatly folding his coat underneath his legs as he sits. The metal tip of his umbrella rasps against the concrete sidewalk as he props it against the armrest of his resting place. The man looks before him; a taxi drives by in a flash of color, yellow streaks of paint and red whirls of headlights floating away in the encroaching dark of clouds. It will rain again soon. He waits.
Time passes, and more cars slip by, known only to the man by audible swishes of tires over the puddles of rainwater gathered on the road. The chill deepens as the clouds grow darker, and the man pulls the flaps of his coat tighter across his body. He flips his wrist over, frowning at the face of his Rolex watch before impatiently looking up and down the sidewalk. Whoever he is waiting for is late. The man sighs.
The soft tapping of dress shoes against the sidewalk alerts the man of a person approaching. He turns his head, glancing down the park path behind him, and sees a figure making its way through the silent park. The hanging branches from the surrounding trees cast dark shadows over the walkway, blocking the man from the dim illumination of the day. He's tall, and a fedora is angled with poise on the man's head, blocking his eyes from sight. He is wearing a similar gray coat, and his neck is bare of a scarf. He has no umbrella.
The man on the bench stands up. He grabs the wooden handle of his umbrella and takes a few hesitant steps toward the newcomer.
"Red scarf," the man in the hat says, as he approaches.
"Fedora," the first man replies. The second man reaches up with black gloved fingers, tilting the hat back and revealing his chocolate-brown eyes. A flicker of recognition passes over the first man's face; his eyes widen slightly in surprise.
"You're... Jin?"
The man smiles. "Yes, and I think we've met before."
A rumble of thunder rolls through the sky as an oppressive message of rain, and in that instant it starts to pour.
* * *
The first time they were two young college students, Japanese transfers to a Canadian University, both surviving with a bumbling mastery of French and English, and both desperate for understandable companionship. Their friendship turned into love, and then into something else, and then, it ended. They parted, and they never meant to meet again.
The second time they were introduced by a friend of a friend, set up on a date between two lonely souls. One was waiting for a red scarf. The other, a hat and a man named Jin.
They hadn't known they'd met before.
* * *
Red Scarf undoes his umbrella as the heavens open, and the pounding pellets of the downpour bounce off its stretched fabric in a cacophony of sound.
"I guess we'll need a taxi," Jin yells over the sound of the rain, and he quickly ducks underneath the other's umbrella. "Mind if we share?" he asks, gesturing towards the other's fingers clenching the handle.
"Not at all."
"Merci beaucoup," Jin replies in French. A taxi rushes by on the road, and he quickly raises a gloved hand towards the vehicle. "Taxi," he calls out. The car whizzes by; in the haze of rain, the driver is unable to see them.
"Infernal rain," Jin curses, switching back to Japanese. "I'll get one, hang on.
He runs out into the street, and despite all the rain, he eventually manages to get a taxi, waving it down as it rushes just by him. He motions towards his companion, and Red Scarf steps off the sidewalk, walking quickly towards the car, stepping delicately to avoid the puddles. He flings open the side door of the taxi and slides in.
The seat of the taxi groans in protest as Jin follows his companion into the vehicle. They flash uneasy smiles. Water from Red Scarf's umbrella has dripped onto the leathery seat, and the overhead light from the taxi skates like silver across the pools of water. They shut the car doors and oppressive silence makes itself known.
"Pont Champlain," Jin says. The driver nods and peels away from the curb.
The sound of the rain pounding onto the roof of the car is the only noise that fills the taxi. Rivers of rain seemingly float down the front glass, only to be sliced off by the rhythmic ‘swish-swish' of the taxi's windshield wipers. They reach the Champlain Bridge, and the waters of the St. Lawrence River are a torpid beast below them.
‘God, it's strange to see him again,' Jin thinks.
Some of his memories are as clear as day; dazzling smiles and jubilant laughter, promises whispered under bedcovers, caresses shared in passion. But their past together was ten years ago. Now, most of the memories are black silhouettes, shapes fluttering just on the edge of Jin's conscious mind, teasingly close yet intangible. He frowns.
It's his ex-lover sitting there next to him, and he's trying to remember the other man's name.
The man with the red scarf glances towards his companion leaned up against the taxi door. Jin's frowning at the window, eyes glaring at the slowly meandering droplets smeared against the glass. ‘He's sad,' he thinks. He sighs quietly and turns his head, staring dejectedly at the river below them. Reflections of the red and white lights from passing cars glance off the puddles of rainwater on the highway, casting an eerie glow into the taxi. Jin's face is tinted red.
They drive in silence across Pont Champlain.
* * *
"This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin
Tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in
Now you're outside me, you see all the beauty
Repent all your sin
It's nothing but time and a face that you lose
I chose to feel it and you couldn't choose
I'll write you a postcard; I'll send you the news
From the house down the road from real love"
They leave Pont Champlain behind and the car is still ghostly silent, tension thick and oppressive like the rain clouds currently swathing the entire sky in ominous gray. There's a brilliant flash somewhere over the river, sudden illumination drawing shadows in the interior of the taxi. A rumble of thunder follows.
Jin still hasn't remembered the other's name.
Red Scarf sighs, and Jin looks over, studying his companion. The other has placed his umbrella on the floor of the car, and Jin watches in fascination as he pulls up the sleeves of his coat, revealing white, almost porcelain-like skin. A scar mars the crease of his left elbow. It's a tiny fleck, a small and pale crescent-shaped discoloration of skin. The overhead light glances off the scar, makes it almost radiant in the illumination, and Jin is suddenly compelled to touch the mark, feel the healed skin and remember how it had gotten there. Filled with remorse, he reaches out with shaking fingers to touch the scar. He pauses, hesitating just before contact.
"Don't."
Startled, Jin looks up and sees the other's intense eyes immediately, taking in the sight of him glaring, having seen what Jin had been about to do. Still holding eye contact, Red Scarf pulls his sleeve down hastily, as if covering his scar will shield him from the constant reminder of pain and heartbreak that it represents.
Jin knows what that mark is from. It's his own damn fault.
"I'm sorry."
His companion huffs and finally turns away, eyes now studying the passing streets. "Sorry?"
"Yes."
Another huff, then silence. "You don't even remember my name," the other says suddenly, voice startling Jin in the silence of the car, and as he speaks his breath fogs the glass in front of him. He reaches up and draws a delicate finger across the window, leaving behind symbols in the residue. From his angle, Jin cannot see what he has written. "You don't, do you?"
It's the elephant in the room. The floor opens up and swallows him. "It's been some time." Jin makes up an excuse. "You lose faces and names along the way."
"Never was important enough for you."
"That's low."
"Yeah, well. It's the truth."
If Jin replies, he'll be lying. He says nothing.
* * *
It's silent again, omnipresent quiet that chills the interior of the taxi. Hostile, cold; it reminds him of their past, the memories of Jin and him together, tied together with obligations and commitments that slowly tore at their insides, breaking them down until they were hollow, empty.
"I chose to feel it." His voice startles him. He hadn't meant to say that to Jin.
There's a long pause before his companion replies. "I know."
"Why couldn't you choose?"
Jin sighs.
He looks away from Jin, flicking his eyes forward. He immediately sees the dark-brown eyes of the Arab man driving the taxi; they are curiously gazing at them in the rearview mirror. Their gazes meet, and the man turns his attention back onto the road.
"I don't know."
He feels like he should stop, but the words keep coming; an unstoppable, torrential force. "That's what ruined us."
A guilty sigh. "I know."
"We could've had it together."
No answer.
"It feels like… it feels like I live down the street from that; I can see it just up the road, unreachable; and all I can do is send you postcards. That's what we are now. That's what I am."
The car plunges into silence once more. Minutes pass, and then Jin speaks.
"I-"
His voice falls short. For once, he has no reply.
* * *
"Live through this and you won't look back
Live through this and you won't look back."
Live through this, and they won't look back.
* * *
"There's one thing I want to say so I'll be brave
You were what I wanted, I gave what I gave
I'm not sorry I met you, I'm not sorry it's over
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save
I'm not sorry there's nothing to save."
Silence. It rules over the interior of the taxi, heavy and oppressive between the two of them. The driver coughs. Cars swish by in blurs of light reflected on the road. The tires of the taxi hiss over the wet road.
The man with the red scarf steals a quick glance at Jin. There are so many things between them that need to be acknowledged, so many things he wants to say, but he can't find the right words, can't find the will within him to brave the consequences and take the plunge.
"I guess... I guess you'd just want to go home then," Jin says suddenly, almost making him flinch in surprise.
He flicks his gaze towards Jin's face, and is surprised to see Jin looking at him with steady, questioning eyes. It's the first they've really looked at each other, and the words bubble up, boiling to the surface with a determination that scares him.
"You were what I wanted. Exactly what I wanted, Jin. You were… you were perfect, and I gave what I gave but it wasn't goddamn enough, and you slipped away from me, and there was no-" his voice chokes, and he swallows. "Nothing I could have done to get you to stay."
"I-"
"Stop, stop," he yells, and it takes a minute for Jin to realize he's talking to the taxi driver. The Arab man quickly pulls over to the side of the road, stopping with a screech alongside the sidewalk.
"I'm not sorry I met you, but I'm not sorry it's over either," he says, his words hurried, almost slurred together, and before Jin can reply he hurls the door open, ignoring the rain as he steps out of the taxi. He flings open his umbrella, the soothing ‘pat pat pat' of rain bouncing off the material erupting around him instantaneously, and he turns away from the taxi, striding quickly away.
He hears the other car door slamming open and closed, and Jin cries out ‘Wait," the sound faint over the roaring of the pounding rain.
There's a flash of lightning, and he turns around.
* * *
It's as instantaneous as the flash of lightning that paints the street in eerie blue.
Rushing after the retreating form, rain falling about him and almost veiling him from sight, Jin suddenly remembers the other's name.
"Kame," he breathes out.
A rumble of thunder rolls above them.
* * *
Kame sucks in a deep breath, tightens his grip on his black umbrella. "That's me," he replies, and even to him, his voice sounds forlorn, lost. "Nice of you to remember."
"Kame, it's-."
He can't let Jin finish, he can't let Jin utter the words that will make him pause and consider and no doubt choose to try again, so he hurried blurts,
"There's nothing between us to save."
Kame starts when a hand appears underneath his chin, slender and gentle fingers tilting his head up. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at the rain covered sidewalk below him.
Jin is smiling that smile, that smile that makes Kame's chest ache and his heart flutter and had made it so hard for him to leave that summer day, ten years ago.
"And yet here we are, both alone," Jin says. "Ten years. Ten years, Kame, and we still couldn't find anyone else we would rather be with, we would rather love."
"You just let me go. You just watched me walk out."
"And now here we are."
"We can't go back to what we were."
"Meeting again after all these years."
"We have to stop chasing after the past; there's nothing left. Nothing."
"We can make something new together. Reset. Start over."
Kame takes a deep breath.
"And are you going to make the choice this time?"
Jin stops, his whole body quivering with surprise, seemingly held suspended by an unseen force. "Wait. Wait, what?"
"You heard me."
"I... I don't-" Jin pauses, studying Kame's face like the answer will be hidden in the depths of his eyes. He takes a deep breath, and the uncertainty falls away in a cascade of emotions. His face is calm, and determined.
"Yes," he says, with utter conviction.
Kame finally allows himself to smile.
* * *
The rain pounds around them.