Side Chapter: A Bitter Reconciliation
Sakuchi's vision swam as he regained consciousness. His head throbbed, and a wave of dizziness hit him. His surroundings were dim, and the smell of the cold, stale air seemed to cling to his skin. He blinked, trying to focus, but his eyes kept falling on a figure kneeling by his side.
His mother.
Her face was pale, gaunt with exhaustion, her eyes hollow as if she hadn't slept in days. Her trembling hands hovered over him, unsure whether to touch him or pull away. The moment their gazes met, her breath hitched, a broken sob escaping her chest.
"Sakuchi… please," she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with an ache that mirrored his own. "I still need you"
For a moment, Sakuchi's heart pounded with something close to hatred, a sharp, raw edge of rage that threatened to consume him. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn away, to keep the distance he'd built between them, to shut her out once and for all. The pain she'd caused him, the years of abuse, the scars that ran deeper than any physical wound—they were all still so fresh.
But he didn't move. His body, stiff with tension, couldn't bring itself to reject her, not completely. He hated her for what she had done, but something inside him, something fragile, couldn't turn her away either.
He turned his face slightly, his voice hollow and cold, though his chest tightened with the words. "Why… why'd you do it?" His words felt like poison, sharp and venomous. "Why did you make me suffer?"
She collapsed forward, her hands shaking as they pressed against her face, her sobs turning into ragged breaths. "I didn't mean for this to happen," she cried, her words breaking apart. "I didn't want to hurt you. I never wanted you to go through any of this… I just—I just couldn't figure out how to be your mother. I was so angry… I was so lost. I didn't know how to stop the hurt."
Sakuchi's chest tightened further, each breath coming in jagged bursts. He stared at her, his face betraying nothing of the whirlwind inside. His mind screamed in turmoil—he wanted to lash out, to break her apart with the weight of his fury. But there was too much—so much pain, so much sorrow, so many years of silence that he didn't know where to begin.
"You were never there," he muttered, barely above a whisper. His voice cracked, the anger seeping through with each word. "You never even tried. You hurt me, and I let you. I thought I was nothing. I thought you didn't love me. And now you… you cry for me? After everything?"
His mother's tears continued to fall, harder now, as she reached for his hand, her fingers trembling. "I was broken," she gasped. "I was so broken, Sakuchi. I couldn't see what I was doing to you. I never meant to make you feel worthless. I was angry with myself, and I turned it all on you. I was never a good mother. I couldn't protect you. I couldn't protect any of us."
Sakuchi's chest heaved with each painful breath, his heart thumping violently as he tried to suppress the tears he knew were coming. He turned his face away from her, the coldness taking hold once again, even as his body shook with the intensity of his emotions.
"I hate you," he whispered, his voice trembling, broken. "I hate what you made me. I hate what I became because of you."
Her body shook with the force of her sobs, her heart shattered as she heard those words—those words she had known were coming but couldn't bear to hear. "I know… I know," she choked out. "I deserve your hate. I don't blame you for it. But please, don't carry this burden, Sakuchi. Please… I love you. I always have, but I was too blind to see it. I didn't know how to be what you needed."
Sakuchi pulled his knees to his chest, his face buried in his arms, the tears now unstoppable. He couldn't hold them back anymore. They poured from him like a flood, a torrent of grief and rage, each sob a painful release from years of holding it all in. He cried for the boy he once was, the boy who had loved his mother with all his heart, the boy who had been destroyed by her absence, her neglect, her cruelty.
"I don't know if I can forgive you," he gasped through his sobs, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I even want to. I hate that I still care. I hate that part of me still wants you to hold me, to tell me everything's going to be okay. But it's not okay. It's never going to be okay."
His mother's cries grew louder, more desperate. She crawled toward him, her hands trembling as she reached out to him, her face drenched with tears. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything, for all the years I wasted. I didn't know how to love you like you deserved. I thought I could fix everything by staying angry. But now I know… I know I failed you."
Sakuchi flinched as she touched his shoulder, but it wasn't the cold rejection it used to be. It was an unbearable mixture of grief and longing, the rawness of everything they had both lost. His body trembled violently as he slowly turned his head toward her, their eyes meeting in the silence between their cries.
"I don't know how to forgive you," he whispered again, the words breaking apart on his lips. "I don't know if I even can. But I can't keep hating you. Not forever."
They sat there, both of them broken, lost in their shared grief, their tears mixing together, a silent understanding passing between them. Neither of them knew what forgiveness looked like. Neither of them knew what healing meant. But in that moment, as they cried together, they were no longer just mother and son—they were two broken souls, both desperately trying to find a way to heal from the wounds they had inflicted upon each other.
And though they couldn't undo the past, though they couldn't change the pain, there was a fragile, tentative hope that they might find a way to rebuild, piece by shattered piece.