An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save him,” Mas tells her one night, when they’ve both slipped onto the fire escape for some fresh air.
Keiko furrows her brow as she turns to him, the city lights gently reflecting off her skin.
“You can’t actually think it’s your fault,” she says, and it takes Mas by surprise. “I know you think you’re supposed to be, like, G.I. Joe or Superman or whatever, but there’s no way you really think it’s your fault that he’s gone.”













