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The afterlife airport was filled with many familiar faces, some Naoya respected and some not so much. There was Toji-kun, who was sitting by the window, head leaning against the glass pane as he waited for his supposed 'flight', and a bit further away from him were Gojo-kun and his friend circle from Tokyo High, talking about something with smiles on their faces. Lucky them, he thought; they're happy that they've passed on, but the same couldn't be said for Naoya. He was pissed, resentful even that he had been stabbed in the back by his niece's mother, the phantom pain in his back lingering. He was far away from the glass panes, at one end of the main terminal as he sat there alone, with no one to talk with or to at least accompany him. The area was grey and muted, but he didn't really mind the silence; if it'll make time pass faster for his "flight", then he'll gladly endure it.
To his left, the other part of the terminal looked completely the opposite of the main terminal— one looked bright and peaceful, filled with people who had accepted their death and moved on, whilst the other looked dark and grim with barely anyone. He looked at the empty space long enough that he was convinced something might pop out of thin air, but nothing did, of course. He was deadly bored now, groaning softly and leaning completely on the airport chair, head slightly lolling to the side when he saw a familiar figure. The body was that of a woman, definitely, wearing a light blue kimono and a grey obi, hair neatly wrapped in a bun with an ornate hairpin— but despite all these details, her face was shadowed over. He huffed, resting his head on the plastic chair, his head on the edge of the chair's low back. He noticed she was making her way to him, but what did Naoya care? Women were inferior to him, anyways.
"Nao-chan?"
That nickname, the tone he was called with, the voice; it sent a jolt through his body, turning his head to look properly and—
"..Mama?"
Her face finally came into view as he recognized it as one he wished he wouldn't meet, here of all places. It felt awkward, seeing the person he missed and loved so much when he was a child, now standing in front of him with the exact same eyes that used to comfort him every night. It was awkward and stupid how needy he was when he was still a little boy, when he was still "Nao-chan". His mother, who had been standing, took a seat next to her son, smiling in a way Naoya's heart twisted in his chest.
"I didn't expect to see you again this early, Nao-chan."
"Just call me Naoya, Mama. And so what if I'm already here? You mentioning it won't make me come back to life again." He grumbled, elbow on his knee and hand cupping his face as he faced the direction of his mother, whose face was still the same as ever, no wrinkles, no signs of old age. Like when he was still the oblivious 4-year old.
"Can't I be surprised for my son? ..Did you dye your hair, Naoya? It looks good on you." She tried to touch the sloppy mop of blonde hair but her hand was quickly swatted away. He looked irritated, eyes squinting in annoyance.
"Don't just touch my hair, have you never thought of boundaries?"
Her eyes widened but only for a fraction of a second before softening again, folding her hands politely on her lap.
"Of course. I'm sorry."
How is she so patient?, he thought, the hand that smacked away hers clenching the fabric of his hakama bottoms. His irritation was reaching up to its peak, his mind a whirlwind of emotions.
"Why are you even here? You died long ago, shouldn't you just go to heaven or something? There's seriously no use for you to sit here."
She only smiled and maybe laughed a little, he can't tell with how polite and demure she was being.
"I was waiting for family to come with me, of course."
"But all my stupid brothers died before me, didn't they? Then why didn't you go with them, why bother waiting for me?"
This time, he was sure she was laughing at him, little tears of humiliation slipping down those rosy cheeks. That's rude, he wanted to say, laughing at your own son like that.
"Why are you laughing? I should be laughing at you for how stupid you are."
"Oh, my.." She wiped away the thin wet streaks with the heel of her hand, shoulders still shaking from laughing. "I was waiting for you, silly. You're still my son, after all."
"Well, I don't want you waiting for me, so just... go along." He didn't want to look at her— to let her see the bittersweet expression he had on. If given, he'd appreciate the thought of his mother waiting for him, but his overinflated ego refused to. It was a clash of opinions, a battle of heart and mind and which to side on.
"..I see." And yet she still sat there, as unmoving as a statue. He clicked his tongue, shifting in his seat before glancing sideways at her, jaw clenched.
"I mean it. There's no point in waiting here. It's grey, and dull, and absolutely empty, you're better off over there with them." He gestured with his chin towards the group of people at the sunny side of the terminal, some already moving to board their 'flight'.
"I don't mind waiting, this place is peaceful anyways."
Peaceful, she says? Next to them was a gloomy, grim-looking place where ghosts exist, and she says it's peaceful?
"You should," he snapped, words pointed through the lilt of his dialect. "It's a waste of time, you've been here decades anyway, so just go away."
There was a bout of silence, and just as Naoya thought he convinced her enough, she softly answered—
"Even so, I would still like to."
Something inside of him snapped, the anger tipping over his boiling point.
"Why? Why are you always like this?!" He snapped, facing her properly now with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. "Why are you so keen on being patient, being the 'good' one while everything else is going wrong! You don't think about anything properly, just staying quiet and taking everything like it's nothing!" The words came out harsher than he meant, or maybe exactly like how he wanted it to.
"..Naoya-"
"Don't. Start." He cut her off, his voice a low growl by now, standing abruptly and staring her down. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You didn't do anything, you didn't fight back, you just- stood there and took it even while Father was beating you to death! You knew it'll end that way, that you'll meet your end in that room, so then, why— why didn't you fight back?"
The words hung in the air heavily, his breathing the same as that.
"If you were stronger—" his voice cracked, " If you weren't so—" He couldn't hold it in, the hitches and breaks in his voice, eyes burning with tears that refused to fall at the memory. His tongue refused to cooperate with him, even as his nails dug red crescents into his palm.
"You should've done something," he forced it out, voice desperate to get out. "You should've fought back— why- why didn't you fight? Why didn't you try? You were strong, you had a cursed technique, so then why-" His shoulders shook with the pain of holding it in.
This wasn't going the way he wanted to. He was supposed to get angry, to be furious at her, to slap her for being so idiotic— but he didn't have the heart to do so. His chest tightened at the sight of his mother, still so innocent and patient with stupid, childish him throwing a tantrum over nothing.
"..You always do this. You always make everything worse, Mama." His voice was shaking, slowly disappearing, and his view was bleary now.
Yet his mother didn't argue, didn't respond, didn't even try to defend herself.
"Naoya."
"Stop it already and just go! I'm not a kid anymore for you to keep on staying with me, so just go! Leave me like you did all those years ago, I don't care!" He pushed her shoulder out of annoyance, like how a child would towards a friend they don't like. His voice cracked again, and he froze. At that very moment, the airport felt too still, too quiet, a deafening silence ringing in his ears.
"...I had wanted it. To die, I mean."
"...What."
That got him, the confusion and bitter feeling swirled deeply into the crevices of his heart and made his tears fall in little drops and rivulets down his cheek. His mother's face only dropped a bit, seeing her son cry but continued on to explain.
"I didn't fight back because I knew that I would die. That was the only reason why, really. Living in that clan... was my biggest regret in life that death was the only escape, though it wasn't peaceful at all."
He backed away a few steps as if the words physically hit him, shaking his head as if his denial could reverse back time.
"No, that- that's not how it works, that's stupid—"
"It was the only way to leave, Naoya; you'd know that the most, don't you?"
"You're lying," he snapped, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than his mother, who now stood before him— the mother he had for four years, the one that had seen him strong and weak, the one that had taught him manners and obedience, had chosen to die? "You're just- you're making excuses, you didn't fight back because you were-"
"Weak? Oh, Naoya, I was on par with your father before I married him. I was tired, you see. That clan, where everyone deemed it respectable and glorious, was nothing more than a hellhole and I simply fell into it. I was worried that if I didn't go, it would never stop."
"That's- that's not-" His voice wavered, breathing heavily as if he might die a second time. "You were supposed to—
You were supposed to stay with me."
"I wanted to. Oh, if I was given a choice, I'd choose to stay with you, more than anything. It's just.." She looked out the dim glass panes, eyes somber with words waiting to spill and flow over her tongue. "If I stayed, you would have to see me like that, over and over again. You wouldn't want to see the aftermath of an enraged husband with his wife, would you?" She finally looked at him again, something ugly surfacing beneath those lifeless, grey eyes.
He stared at her, the disbelief and anger warring inside of him. His hands went up to his face, yet it didn't cover anything. He peeked through the gaps of his fingers and his eyes welled up with fresh, hot tears again.
"You're an idiot, Mama," he whispered, but it came out broken more than anything when his hands fell to his sides again. His expression was tired, a rare sight for sore eyes. "I saw everything. I didn't miss a single thing. I still saw it, Mama, I still saw how you were lying on the floor. I know you saw me, Mama, I know you did..."
She just nodded, hands folded neatly in front of her.
"I know. And at that moment, I regretted my decision. ..But, it can't be helped, can it? It was already done." She pressed her lips before whispering softly, a bittersweet smile carved on her mouth. "But even through all that, even if I erase the name of Zen'in from my existence, you're still my son, Naoya."
There was a moment of silence, before he scoffed, running a hand through his hair.
".. You're- you're so- .. you're so pathetic.." Still, his lower lip quivered slightly, and as soon as he saw his mother's arm wide open, he didn't hesitate to move closer and bury his head in her shoulder. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Mama-" He choked on his own words, letting the silent sobs speak for itself. He felt a soft hand that used to be warm carded through his hair as another held him steadily. It was ridiculously , stupidly pathetic to be hunched over like this, crying into someone else's shoulder, but who even cares now? He's dead, what are they going to do about it?
"It's alright, just cry, Nao-chan." She held him through his breakdown, even though his shoulders shook harder, his hands now clawing at her back, refusing to steady himself because he knows someone is willing to catch him now.
"I...I hate you so much, Mama." He managed a broken mumble, tilting his head to look at his mother, who only gazed lovingly at him.
"And I love you the most,
my dearest Nao-chan."