Phoenix [endhawks]

chapter two

After Keigo left, Enji decided it was late enough that he should go to bed. He lay there for hours, incapable of sleep, old memories from the war and from what he did to his family tormenting his mind. He remembered things he hadn't even known had happened, like when he had punched seven year old Shoto for not training hard enough. It made him feel sick to think about that again. Gut-wrenching, disgustingly sick. His mind and body felt like a prison, his entire being and soul trapping him and every day reminding him of his failures. But he deserved it. So, he would keep marching on.

            Enji had fallen asleep eventually, where his mind tormented him even more, playing scenes and images from Touya's true death, when he burnt himself to a crisp in the final battle while trying to kill Enji. He had woken up at eleven panting and soaked in sweat, his legs sore from kicking them so much. He sighed and rolled over on the bed, looking at his nightstand. His prosthetic was flung across it haphazardly, like it didn't cost a pretty penny. Looking at it shine in the light made Enji feel disgusted. One of the biggest failures of his career: allowing himself to lose a limb in battle. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to ignore it, but its presence was enough to agitate him and make him think things about himself that put an ache in his heart.

            Everything I have ever done has been for nothing. I am an irredeemable monster who deserves death for everything I've done. I should've died in the war. I should've died a long time ago. Maybe I should die now.

            Enji grabbed the prosthetic with his left hand and threw it straight at the wall. It bounced off and skittered across the floor, still in perfect condition. The wall, however, now had a decent sized dent and paint chips were spread across the ground. Not wanting to look at the mess he made, Enji got up and headed to the bathroom to take a morning shower.

            Yet, when he stripped himself of his clothes, he found more things he didn't like. Since his retirement, and due to the fact he was no longer as physically active as he once was, he had put on a significant amount of weight. He no longer had rock-hard abs or thighs so defined in muscle they looked like they belonged to an ox. He now had love handles, and everything seemed to squish when he touched it. It made him want to throw up.

            He ignored his body in the mirror and just got into the shower. He was too tired to worry about degrading and hating himself right now. Maybe he would later, after Keigo had left.

            Wait. Shit. Keigo. He had promised to come over again today, saying he was "worried".

            Sighing, Enji rubbed some shampoo in his hair and got to washing himself up. He could always just tell Keigo to leave. It was his house, after all.

            Yet he knew he wouldn't. He had spent too long last night while he wasn't able to sleep thinking about how nice it was to have finally talked to someone and have company. Even if Keigo was sometimes annoying and got on his nerves, it had been nice to not feel so lonely.

            They weren't friends. Just... colleagues. They were still colleagues.

            Enji should feel guilty, wanting to have someone over for comfort like he deserved it, but he chalked up Keigo coming over to him wanting to and not taking no for an answer. Surely that wouldn't damn him further, right? He wasn't really being selfish and enjoying things he shouldn't, because he hadn't really been allowed to say no.

            He got out of the shower and dried himself off, then wrapped the towel around his waist as he made his way back to his room. He found some clothes, a sweater and sweatpants, and tugged them on before making his way back out to the living room and his favorite chair.