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He’d just been standing on top of the building, staring over the edge. That was how Barnaby found him, calling Kotetsu immediately on a private channel.
Agnes had at least had the sense not to air any of it. An attempted suicide was just a little too low.
A successful one made even the producer ache in sympathy.
Barnaby had opened his helmet and reached out to the android, gently shaking his shoulder. There was nothing but the distant, quiet whir of processors which were only enhanced by the armored suit. “Ebi?” He tried softly, but there was only that blank staring down at his failure. At a life that he could not save. Maybe if one of the humans had been there to approach first, or to tell him what he should have done. Even with all his strength and speed, he wasn’t fast enough. There hadn’t been time to reach her. To stop her. He hadn’t kept any record of whether or not he’d managed to call out to her. “Wait”, maybe. Or “Stop.” “Please.”
Kotetsu had only the vaguest of details available, but when he burst from the door to the rooftop, he skidded to a halt at the scene. The blond shook his head; nothing he did or said called the android out of his trance.
Approaching with his faceplate raised, the veteran hero’s voice was very soft, motions slow. “Hey Ebi-chan. You’re scaring us now. Are you okay?”
Processors whirred more loudly for several seconds, the extra heat coming off of him clear even at Barnaby’s distance. At last Ebi looked up and then over to regard his origin. “I failed. She jumped.”
Kotetsu’s chest squeezed tightly around his sinking heart. “I—yeah. I heard that part. I’m sorry.”
“I—” Ebi started, tilting his head quickly, emotion momentarily overwhelming him. It was back under control seconds later, but it was too late for the humans not to have seen, heard. “I do not understand. I strove for life. Independence. I— I suffered for. My own life. To live.”
“Hey. I know you did. We know you did, alright?” Kotetsu assured, voice slightly stern as he placed his hand on the android’s shoulder. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. We know you did everything you could. You never would have done less.”
The android shook his head, motion hard and jerky. That wasn’t what he needed, wasn’t what he absolutely required an understanding in. “Why? Why would anyone— I do not understand. The urge to die. The desire to end one’s own life. I do not understand.”
It hit Kotetsu like a punch to the gut. The android understood suicide as a word, not the full reality of the situation. Not someone willingly killing themself, giving up and dying. To willingly take away everything he’d fought for probably seemed even more illogical to Ebi than it did to most people who were thinking straight. Though, well… the Hero would have been lying if he’d tried to say he’d never thought about it himself. Glancing to his partner for some help, it was clear that Barnaby had no idea what to do or say. Neither did he, but still… “I’m… not really sure. I mean, people have reasons sometimes. They aren’t usually very good reasons…”
“Why?” Ebi tried again, turning to look back down at the police cars gathered around the scene. “I do not understand.”
He couldn’t help but notice that Barnaby’s gaze dropped as well. It seemed to give him a moment of insight as to how to explain matters. “Some people just… aren’t lucky enough to have someone to tell them they matter. Or get so depressed that they push everyone away and convince themselves that there’s no one there.” Kotetsu frowned and scratched his chin when the android looked back at him. “Sometimes people just… get into dark places. Or they’re just in a lot of pain for whatever reason. I guess… mental or physical…”
“She was in pain.” He responded, partially repeated, as if he weren’t sure if it were supposed to be a question.
Catching Barnaby’s glance, Kotetsu tried to be assuring to both of them. “We don’t know that… but I’ll bet the police find out soon. There had to be a reason.”
The reassurance seemed to be lost on Ebi, one of his hands curling into a fist unconsciously. “But I could not save her. Kotetsu, I could not help her. I tried, but I—”
“I know.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around the android. Sometimes there were just those child-like moments, Ebi’s words or behavior serving as a reminder that he was still technically young, still learning so much about the world and the humans around him. When things got scary or confusing for Kaede, Kotetsu had always hugged her. It had helped, he liked to think. “I know. You did everything you could. You couldn’t have done more.”
“But she is dead.” While Ebi didn’t resist the hug, he didn’t return it. “I have failed.”
“You didn’t fail, dammit.” The words were harsher than he meant for them to be. “You didn’t fail, okay? It isn’t your fault. If you’d gotten here ten seconds earlier then—”
“There are no ‘what ifs’.” Barnaby cut him off softly. “We can’t change the past. We can’t dwell on what we could have done.”
Kotetsu swallowed thickly, squeezing the android a little tighter before letting go. “Well, yeah. Yeah, that’s true. Ebi-chan, you can’t beat yourself up about this.”
“Then what can I do?” He sounded… tired. Drained, even if his battery was at more than half full.
It was painful. Familiar, when it came down to it. “I guess… Well, you can attend her funeral.” The veteran Hero suggested tentatively “I can’t promise it’ll help, but if it makes you feel better, you could apologize to her.”
Ebi tilted his head and looked between the two humans. They each had their own grave to visit, their own words to say to the dead. “Yes, I will try that. Thank you.”
Kotetsu nodded once, trying very hard to keep his voice light even if his expression was a bit harder than he’d have liked. “Alright, then. Let’s get home, okay? We all earned a little rest. We could even do your paperwork for you.”
“My report has already been composed and sent to Hero TV.” The android stated. He could see Kotetsu’s fake smile, the light that failed utterly to reach the man’s eyes.
The way Ebi studied him just made Kotetsu all the more eager to turn and start walking back to the roof’s entrance. “Well that’s good! We can get some food, catch a movie, just re—”
“Are you just going to forget about her?” The question came out… loudly. Not angry so much as demanding, the android truly surprising himself; and feeling Barnaby jump back the slightest bit. Once he was aware of it, his tone and volume evened out again. “Is that what— Am I supposed to ‘push this aside’ now?”
The veteran Hero’s shoulders fell as he sighed, turning around. “No, of course not. It’s… the losses aren’t really something you can forget. I think it’s best to remember them, actually. I’m not… I mean, I can’t really explain why, but…”
“To keep what’s important in mind.” Barnaby supplied softly. “Remember so that… you’ll know, next time. So you learn from your mistakes.”
Kotetsu nodded gravely. “Everyone wishes that they could change something. You just can’t, so…”
“You make the best of what you’ve learned.” The blond finished again. “That’s… honoring a memory.”
The android looked down for a moment, processing the words. The tones of voice, inflection, expressions, sentiment. He was almost unaware of speaking, of the worlds themselves. “It— It hurts.”
Kotetsu’s frown was wrought with pain. There was some understanding, and memories. “I’m sorry, Ebi. It hurts for us, too. But you’re not at fault, okay? That may not help, but… sometimes you’ve gotta use that hurt. You’ve gotta go on living and saving people to make it right.”
Barnaby’s smile was sad more than anything, but it wasn’t dishonest. “It may be a way to give purpose to things. To turn tragedy into something better.”
“Tragedy.” Ebi repeated quietly, looking out over the edge of the building again; but not down. “Yes. To ‘do better next time’, then.”
The responding laugh from Kotetsu was just a little nervous with how the android had phrased that, but really… it was true. “Yeah. And not to forget.”
There was a long silence before Ebi finally turned and regarded the other two. “Thank you. I will endeavor to make this tragedy into something better. I will learn from this and become better, myself.”
Kotetsu really couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, then. Let’s go home, get something to eat, and rest up. Same job tomorrow, y’know?” Moving between Ebi and Barnaby, he wrapped an arm around each. “Special fried rice tonight.”
It still hurt. But the android was starting to learn the importance of a “sense of humor”; or something like it. “What is so special about it?” When he heard Barnaby’s distinctive surprised laugh combined with Kotetsu’s sounds of (hopefully) mock-offense, he knew he was at least on the right track.