(If you skipped the introduction chapter, please read it.)
(Edited)
Pity...you hated it, With your brother being Keisuke and husband being Shuji, pity was a frowned upon expression. As was sorrow and fear; you had learned to contort your fear into wrath, courtesy of your brother, but alas he never taught you how to control vulnerability. Shaky hands and trembling breaths that came from pain, not fear.
"Thank you for coming here, taking out time to visit," you whispered, the facade of strongness about to crumble under the weight of the web of those pitying on-goers.
Chifuyu Matsuno stood in front of you today, eyes bearing pity, the same expression he carried as he broke to you, the passing of your brother. You clench your fists trying to control your knees from buckling, from your hands holding onto his solace, just as you did years ago. You weren't 12 anymore.
"You came..." you stated the obvious, it was as if you said it so that your brain could comprehend the fact.
He pulled you into a hug while Takemichi watched from the side, your eyes meeting with his until Chifuyu spoke, "How could have we left you alone?"
"Big brother would have been happy today right?" you chuckled humorlessly.
"As much as he hated Hanma, he was ready to do anything for your happiness, he would have been really sad today," Takemichi replied and you pulled away from Chifuyu's embrace.
Your eyes scanned around the room, meeting with a certain long-haired man...Kazutora. You were quick to whip your head away, a childish gesture, but you had accepted the fact that he was responsible for your brother's death, for pushing him into committing suicide.
"Y/N" commented Draken accompanied by Mitsuya. You bowed to both of them.
He patted your head and questioned, "how are you feeling?"
"Terrible," you answered, "Guess all that is left for me is to keep attending and hosting funerals, Shinichiro-san, Emma, big brother, Shuji...it's like bad luck follows around people who get close to me."
"Don't say that," Mitsuya stated, "it's not up to you, it's something the heavens had decided for the person at the time of their birth only."
"Philosophical," you muttered, "but impractical, excuse me now, I have to check the processions."
You stood upright, staring at the picture of your husband.
'The Grim Reaper, that's what they called you, right? The reaper of souls, the carrier of omens. I preferred to think of you as Hades more than Thanatos though. You had promised to stay with me forever. Called me the queen of the underworld, your Persephone."
"The underworld would be empty in summers then, Shuji," you whispered to his photo, "winter is where my soul belongs."
And you would gladly eat the Pomegranate of his love, of his sins and of his sincerity again, and again and again.
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