Blossoming Fissure | Tanjirou Kamado

17. Truth

If Yuu had been someone like Ayaka or like Tanjirou, he would have thought a lot about it.

He could clearly picture it, how he would have beaten himself up over Rengoku-san's death; He would have cried, would have cursed Akaza's name, sinking in sorrow or coming out of it tougher and meaner than how he once was, but Yuu was simple, as simple as death itself. And that, he thought, was what made him a good doctor.

The only truth was that death is unavoidable and irreversible, no matter whoever it took, he could not change it, nor could he do anything to stop it if it had its teeths buried on its victims skin. Once death took a hold of someone, there was nothing else he could do, and that was the truth. So he won't think about Rengoku's death or what he could have done to save him, because focusing on the corpses won't help the other, still agonizing, victims (He thought about Senjuro, who must have been hidden in some corner of his house, mourning the only person he ever had).

Yuu watched as the needle bore into flesh and stayed very still as his mother sewed, slowly, until the skin had nothing left but a clean trace of stitches.

He didn't move, nor did he tremble or shudder. The needle came in and out the flesh and he only watched.

Laying on the floor, the man huffed through his nose. By his side there was an empty bottle. He had refused the anesthesia.

"Yuu," his mother called, "I want you to look closely." He did. "Do you know who this man is?"

Yuu shook his head, expecting to remember his face, but he didn't.

"He's the priest of the village across the mountain, he's a merciful man, who's helped a lot of people." Suddenly his mother's tone changed and he instinctively paid more attention. "But what would happen if he were to be a thief? If, the moment he got better, attacked someone or killed a family? Would you have healed him?"

The man, still drunk, looked up at the ceiling with blurry eyes.

"Bad people don't deserve to be healed," his answer comes in a whisper, "I wouldn't." His gaze left the man to fix on his mother. "Is he a thief?"

"No, I just wanted to know your opinion," she said, cleaning the bloody needle in a rag, "Do you think bad people shouldn't be healed?"

"No, should they?"

"No one knows." The head of the priest moved from side to side, looking for something in blind drunkness. "But whatever your opinion is, you must stick to it no matter what. Many doctors refused to heal christians a long time ago, and they did nothing either when they were sentenced to death or imprisoned for being barbarians. I won't talk ill of them, but they stuck to their ideals. For us doctors to think too much helps no one."

"Are we barbarians?" He had never seen her mother pray before any shrines or kiss any Buddha statues. It wasn't like he had, either.

"No, we just don't believe in the gods as much as other people." His mother shrugged but he knew she was lying. "Doctors can't lean on miracles, you know?"

"I don't need any miracles."

Nozomi looked at him for a long time. "I guess not." And then she dried her hands on her kimono. "If you choose to heal bad people or if you don't, you'll have to live with the consequences. I want you to know that."

"I won't heal bad people," Yuu sentenced.

"So you won't change your mind?"

"No," he stopped for a moment. "I'm simple," he felt like he had to say it. "Ayaka calls me that a lot."