Chapter 1

It had been years, years since Xue had even seen or heard of the man who used to work right beneath him in his branch. There had, undoubtedly, been some intense tension between the two while their time together lasted, mostly from Xue who struggled unspeakably with accepting himself.

Today wasn't much different. The weather was freezing, yet the palms of his hands were covered in sweat. Not to mention the obvious fog on his glasses from his body's worked up temperature far from matching Sapporos wintry landscape. Working in the mafia, people rarely lasted, whether it was physical or mental, it always took a toll on the ones related. On Xue's part, it was definitely more or less mental, and Saito, his previous work partner, had definitely left because of it.

Despite his overly aggressive behavior, the head of the department had refused to seek any help for it, in fact, not even noticing it himself, until all of this. But then again, it had been years, years since he had left that place and even more years since he had spent any sort of time in Mr. /literally forgot his last name/'s presence. The reason he was here was to put himself at ease, ready to part once and for all with the past where he had so selfishly destroyed others careers, lives and willpower.

But why did it make him feel so intensely uncomfortable? Perhaps the fear of never being forgiven, perhaps afraid of being hurt… or he was just afraid of meeting the man he had loved too dearly, the man he had also hurt beyond words. So, a deep breath fell past Xue's lips, a futile attempt to his nerves, all while the back of his hand knocked against the wooden door to the old, traditional Japanese house. His glasses had fogged up tenfold already, the walk from the nearest bus stop having taken him at least 20 minutes, the exact same amount of time he expected for this meeting to take place.

His dark eyes rested on the door pattern before he heard it creak open, fear chaining his eyes to the woodwork rather than him. The man on the other side looked nothing like the man he had once known, but at the same time, they looked exactly like they did back then… just a tad more disheveled.

"I came to apologize."

Didn't sound like Xue at all, in fact, Xue surely didn't look like he used to either. His hair tied up in a low bun, glasses resting on his nose bridge. His youthful, street style seemed to have been replaced by the sophisticated look one could only compare to a doctor. A dark green turtleneck and a heavy, black wool coat hiding it, keeping the cold weather out.

"I have moved on, and I decided to seek help along the line of realizing my abusive and destructive behavior. I apologize for the way I've treated you in the past."

—------

The winter in Aomori settled like a heavy shroud, blanketing the coastal town in a serene, icy stillness. The air bore the weight of countless snowflakes gently descending and transforming the landscape into a serene wonderland. Streets lay quiet, and the sea, usually so lively, was also frozen in time, much like the man standing in snow and breathing so heavily, letting out puffs of warm air.

In the cold weather, a weathered man trudged wearily through the snow-covered path that led to his family's humble abode. His face, etched with the lines of time and fatigue, wore a beard that seemed to have grown wild, echoing the untamed nature of the surrounding landscape. His eyes, once lively, were now blank and weary, mirroring the chill that permeated Aomori's winter air.

Saito had returned home earlier than usual, the biting cold forcing him to cut short his day. His boots left imprints in the freshly fallen snow as he approached the traditional wooden door of his family's house. Saito moved lazily, shedding layers of frost-covered garments. 

Saito took his shoes off and slowly walked towards the living room, his father and grandmother were sitting in the kotetsu.Saito's old mother bustled in, her worn hands cradling a steaming hot pot. The aroma wafted through the room.

"Saito, my boy," his mother cooed, her voice filled with a mother's tenderness. "You finally came. The winters sure are harsh this year, aren't they? You need to eat something warm."

Saito nodded silently, the lines on his face softening as he looked at her and settled down inside the kotetsu to warm himself. She ladled the rich broth into a bowl, serving it to her husband, Saito's grandmother and then placed one before him, urging him to eat.

With a faint smile, Saito obliged, slowly eating the hot pot as his grandmother and mother started to talk about Christmas, even though it was still far off. The television hummed with the soft glow of a mundane program – the rhythmic sounds became a lullaby, coaxing the older adults into gentle slumber. Saito, however, remained awake, his vacant gaze fixed on the screen, lost in his thoughts.

As the room succumbed to the quietude of sleep, Saito felt the heaviness of his eyelids. In that tranquil moment, a strange yet familiar dream seized Saito's consciousness. Black, shining branded shoes filled his vision, accompanied by a voice that screamed his worthlessness, his inadequacy. The dream morphed into a violent scene – a person delivering harsh blows, accusing him of being useless.

Saito jolted awake, his breaths quick and shallow. He clutched his stomach, a phantom pain lingering from the dream's brutality. The stillness was broken by a distant sound outside the door, and Saito's senses heightened. Someone had come to visit. 

Saito, careful not to disturb the peaceful slumber of his grandmother, father, and mother, silently made his way to the door, wondering just who had come to visit. He gently slid it open, revealing a sight that sent a shiver down his spine.

There, standing in the doorway, was a man he had thought he would never encounter again. The familiar face, voice, and presence froze Saito's movements, his body stiffening as if caught in a time warp. The man, now refined in appearance, looked like a stranger wearing the guise of familiarity. 

"I came to apologize." 

Saito's grip on the door tightened, the wood pressing into his palms. He stood there, unmoving, as if suspended in time. 

"I have moved on, and I decided to seek help along the line of realizing my abusive and destructive behavior. I apologize for the way I've treated you in the past."

His breath quickened, and his blank eyes dilated with fear, reflecting the horror of the past revisited. A surge of nausea churned within him, and for a moment, he felt as if he were experiencing an out-of-body nightmare.

Saito's instincts kicked in, the sliding door snapped shut, leaving the man on the other side, as Saito's body collapsed to the floor. Pale and trembling, the 6-ft-tall frame of Saito felt devoid of strength. The nightmares that had haunted his sleep had materialized into a chilling reality, leaving him grappling with the ghosts of his past.

—------

The reaction had been completely expected. Xue couldn't blame them, after all of the shit he had put Saito through, there would've obviously been some sort of PTSD related to his harsh treatment. With a light nod to himself, a close to futile attempt to soothe his own anxiety regarding the stimulation, Xue had put his hands in his pocket once more, his knuckles stinging with the merciless cold.

Nonetheless, the winter wouldn't thaw. And he was grateful he had followed his old boss's orders, them having seemingly been able to expect how it would turn out.

Silently, he would turn his back and pick up his phone, gazing at the reservation he had made at a nearby inn. It would be another mile to walk, but perhaps the cold was just what he needed to refresh his senses and rid him of the stomachache, knowing that he had caused so much damage.

—-

As Saito's world spiraled into chaos, his senses dulled and his body revolted against him. Pain surged through every fiber of his being, a relentless reminder of past wounds that refused to heal. His vision blurred, the edges of reality smearing into a disorienting haze. Desperate, he tried to block out the world, to drown out the voices that threatened to engulf him.

But Xue's voice, haunting and accusatory, echoed relentlessly inside his head, a relentless assault on his fragile psyche. Panic clawed at him, tightening its grip with every ragged breath. His trauma, a relentless specter from his past, reared its ugly head, dragging him back into the depths of that same hell. His limbs trembled uncontrollably as he staggered forward, seeking refuge from the onslaught of memories and fears.

His fingers found purchase on the shoe rack, a feeble attempt to ground himself in the midst of the storm raging within. But his grip faltered, and the rack toppled over with a clatter, the sound a discordant symphony to his unraveling mind. Through tear-blurred eyes, he saw faint shapes moving around him, their footsteps muted against the cacophony in his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the presence of his parents, their worried faces, their voices reaching out to him.

Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in its suffocating embrace. He felt small and inadequate, a burden upon those he loved most. Each gasp for air was a silent plea for forgiveness, a desperate prayer for the strength to endure the storm raging within him. He could do nothing but tremble like a child as his parents held him.

—--