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Kyo’s woken by steps above his head. Which...doesn’t make much sense. The only thing above him is the roof and it’s, like, two in the morning. Why is anyone up there this late?
He opens up his window, stepping out onto the landing. He doesn’t want to risk waking anyone else up by going through the hallway. He can’t hear anything else from up on the roof from here, just the sound of the breeze through the trees and the deerscare down at the pond.
That is, until he hears a small hitch of a breath. A small sob.
He scrambles up the ladder quickly, anything to get to her as fast as possible. Tohru is sitting on the roof, knees clutched to her chest as she quietly cries. Kyo can see where she has her picture of her mom in her hands.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, Mom…” She weeps.
When Kyo manages to get his feet onto the roof, Tohru notices him. She hastily wipes her cheeks with her shirt and tries to school her expression.
“Um, Kyo! What’re you doing awake?” She tries to smile, play it off like it’s nothing.
He goes over to her and sits right at her side, grabbing her hand. Kyo’s noticed that she likes physical reassurance, lately. A literal ‘I’m here and with you.’ She likes that more than words.
“I heard you on the roof.” Kyo says.
“I - I didn’t mean to wake you up...I’m sorry…” More tears start pouring down her cheeks, and she’s unable to stop them this time. The floodgates have opened. She still scrubs at her cheeks to wipe the tears away, but he just grabs her other hand to stop her. She’ll rub her skin raw if she keeps that up.
“Don’t be sorry,” Kyo reassures. “Never be sorry. It’s okay to cry. I’ll be here.”
They sit there, under the shining moon, without speaking. It’s just the beginning of spring so it’s still cold out, and they’re both up here in t-shirts, but neither of them move. They’re sure to have colds in the morning. Kyo just sits there and lets Tohru cry next to him.
After a while, her tears subside, and a while after that, her breathing evens out.
“I brought her up here because I thought the moon was pretty,” Tohru murmurs, bringing the photo of her mom to where they can both see her. Kyoko’s smile haunts him. “I wanted her to see it. But then...after I got up here...I dunno. I thought about how much I miss her, I guess.”
Tohru tears up again, but it’s only a little bit this time. She yawns. It’s late.
“I miss my mom, too.” Kyo says. He doesn’t even realize it’s true until he’s said it. God, he never really thinks about his mother. Even after everything she did...well. A boy can love his mother even after he’s been hurt by her, right?
“You do?” Tohru asks, surprised. Kyo can’t really blame her. He never brings his mom up.
He hadn’t even meant to bring her up now. It just...slipped out of his mouth. Like some inner drawer was rattling around and the key had fallen to the floor when he came up onto the roof.
“Yeah. After she...died. I don’t think I was ever allowed to mourn her. It didn’t feel right. But...I still miss her. Like you miss your mom.”
Tohru nods, and silence ensues. Kyo likes that he can be here with her like this. Quiet. Comforting each other, holding hands.
Tohru yawns again. “I’m so tired.” She chuckles, and then says, “Crying is exhausting.”
Kyo hums, then reaches his other hand out and pushes her head against his shoulder.
“Let’s watch the moon for our moms tonight, okay?”
She nods, her cheek rubbing his shoulder. He wonders what his mom would say if she could see him now. If she’d be disappointed in him, or proud that he’s come so far on his own. If she’d approve of Master raising him. Wonders what her true feelings were towards him; if she really loved him, if she really feared him. If it was maybe a little of both.
I just love you so much.
Was there any part of her that meant it? Even a little bit?
He can’t bring up her face in his mind’s eye. He can see her hands as they pull his sleeves back, checking on his beads. He can see her hair as she bent over him, stopping him from opening up the blinds. He can feel her small arms wrap him up when he was being too loud, forcing him to transform, and how she’d cradle him as a tiny kitten to make sure he was quiet.
None of that is love, he knows that. Kazuma taught him what love, what family, really means.
But, God, he misses her regardless. He’s never noticed that before, never allowed himself to.
He finally allows himself to mourn her. To feel that gap, that missing space she used to be in. He opens it up and gasps at how empty it is.
Tonight, on this roof, they both cry for their lost mothers. They mourn. The moon shines on.