Identities are forced upon us the moment we're observed by another. Brother, sister, god, devil, savior, murderer, animal, firewood, tool, partner, lover, and more. Sometimes these identities can be true, pure, other times they're masks allowing us to easily lie. I think what made me dislike Agni so much was that I could see a lot of myself in him. A different identity, a different mask, worn every day. Lies upon lies spill out to protect the selfish core. A protective older sibling willing to go the distance for the younger, all while so desperate for their own older guiding light.
It's become so easy to compartamentalize and justify acts of greed and cruelty, yet at moments of weakness, it's clear the filth is bursting at the seams. And yet, despite its own struggle with nihilism and apathy, one thing Fire Punch spoke to me is that death is not the cure. A sole death cannot atone for hundreds. A lifelong peace after a decade of hatred is not enough. Only after serving man for millennia upon millennia upon millennia to the point of erasing all but the concept of self can one atone and find peace at last. A god and a heretic, bound eternally. Immediately after finishing it, I thought Sun and Luna got off a bit easy. But it's while writing this that I realized this was their atonement. Outliving humanity, the Earth, and space-time itself. An insurmountable eternity of loneliness before finally reuniting once more and being allowed to sleep forevermore at last. Perhaps that's what purgatory will be like for me as well. I don't know how much longer I've got left, but I know in that time I'll make more mistakes and find myself at odds with my own self. Thinking again and again, how could I do such a thing? Was that really me? Or was that someone else, another mask, another liar? But no. It's all me, they're all me, and will ever be me. I am the sum of my parts and more. Death will only be the beginning of the road to peace, so I can only pray it's a quiet and merciful one.
Perhaps this is me projecting, but I think there's a part of Agni that hated Luna as well. Hated that she wasn't as strong, that she died, that she left him behind. Hate for having to shoulder the weight of responsibility yet knowing that without this weight, he'd be alone and have nothing. And this is why, despite everything, he never lets her go. He forces her image upon Judah again and again. It's a particular kind of hate that only siblings can have, as it blows the embers of familial love. Blood that you'd do anything for, but wish you didn't have to. Wish you could be free from. Wish you could let go of. But even now, as it becomes ever popular to go no-contact and cut ties with anyone you deem unworthy, it's difficult. A passing shadow, an old scent, a certain laugh, a knowing look. They'll reach out through the wind, reminding you of home regardless of how miserable it might've been. I think, as an older sibling, I still have plenty to atone for. I ran away when they were most vulnerable, and didn't come back till I realized they'd just about grown up without me.
Every now and then, I remember that hate. I hide it away, wear a mask and dance. I know I'll have to answer for it someday.