Kazuma:

He knew from the beginning, that there would be no apology that would possibly earn him forgiveness.

He knew what cruelty Kyo had endured because of his cat form. Akito's jeering. His mother's fear. The whispers that he had driven his mother to suicide. The collective shunning and disgust of the Sohma clan. His father's unreasoning hatred. All the rumors, the loneliness, the grief. And he knew that Kyo's second form was the symbol of all that torment and rage, the beads on his wrist the constant reminder of the nightmare inside, and his own inability to stop it, or to endure the burden it forced him to bear.

He had forced Kyo to face it. To endure the transformation and worse, endure the baring of all his secrets to Tohru. He had stripped away Kyo's safety. There was the possibility that he had destroyed his son's only hope for happiness. If Tohru could not accept what Kyo was, or if Kyo could not accept Tohru's answers, then everything would be destroyed.

He knew how difficult it was for people to accept the Cat. Even those who had some warning beforehand, those who knew of the unique curse of the cat, often recoiled in disgust when faced with the reality. And he'd given Tohru no such preparation. It had to be a shock. There was a chance it would prove an insurmountable one.

Likewise, even if Tohru could accept what she had seen, there was Kyo. He knew, no one better, how Kyo had suffered as a child. He had wakened his foster son from nightmares all too often. Listened to his grief over his mother, and the conflicted feelings her memory invoked. He knew well that Kyo's mother had often spoken words of love and protection, and yet hidden her own son. Had often spoken of love, but that her fear of her own child was whispered about as the cause of her suicide. Kyo had heard those whispers, and been poisoned by them. Had been twisted by the fear he had sensed, even as a young boy, under his mother's reassurances.

Tohru might accept Kyo, but unless she could convince Kyo that her acceptance wasn't the same as the meaningless platitudes the boy's mother had spoken, it would make no difference. Kyo would reject her, and the rest of them.

He might have destroyed his son, and even if he had not, there was no way Kyo could forgive him this transgression, this humiliation, this forced exposure. It was a cruelty worthy of anything Akito had ever done, and all the worse because he loved Kyo, and knew Kyo loved and trusted...had trusted, him.

Tears dripped down his cheeks, hidden and washed away by the rain that poured over his face as he held Kyo's beads. He tried to pray, but all that came was a tidal wave of memories.

Kyo's lonely grief, their first meeting. The cold whispers, that he had tried to silence by lifting Kyo above them, onto his shoulders. The wide world he had showed the boy. Their first karate lessons. Baths together. Laughter over meals, and his own abysmal cooking ability. The day Kyo had begun to call him Master, a title he spoke the way most children the word Father. Laughter in the sunlight. Smiles in a face that hadn't learned them until far too late in his young life. A sleeping child he had lovingly tended.

And anger. Kyo outrage when the Sohma's mocked him as the Cat's guardian. Kyo's rage whenever they encountered Yuki. Kyo's rejection of him, when the school had expressed disapproval of his parenting ability. A rejection centered around grief, around Kyo's fury at the mockery he endured as the Cat's guardian.

That rejection had hurt, but then he had known that Kyo was confused, hurting, and embarrassed for him. He had known that Kyo was rejecting him because he didn't want to embarrass him. This rejection though...

Kyo had every right to be angry now. Every right to turn from him. He could not possibly apologize enough. Kyo had already been angry, over his broken promise that they would live together. And with this act, he had betrayed every bond of fatherhood, or even mentor-ship, that he had formed with the boy.

He had taught Kyo of honor, of promises and honesty, of respect and trust, and he had betrayed his own teachings. Even if it was for the best, it was still a betrayal.

His heart ached, and he wept for what he had done. He had ignored Kyo's wish, the only thing Kyo had ever really asked of him. He had betrayed his son's secrets, and left him to bear the consequences, for good or ill.

If Kyo never spoke to him again, or even attacked him as he so often attacked Yuki, he would deserve it. He would deserve the silence, the coldness, the blows. And there was nothing he could do that would change that.

For now, all he could do was wait, the rain soaking him, and pray that his son would return, whole in mind and body. All he could do was pray that the young girl who had followed his son would be able to reach him, teach him, save him from himself and the darkness in his soul.

And so he waited. And allowed the memories to come, his penance paid in the torment of remembering all that he had betrayed this night, all that he had sacrificed on this one, slim hope that his child could be saved and given a better fate than the one he believed he would receive.

And the dawn finally came. And with it came Tohru, with an orange cat cradled in her arms, and a smile on her face, trailed by Yuki. They all looked exhausted, but it only required a glance for him to see what had happened.

His gamble had succeeded. Between them, Yuki and Tohru had saved his son. There were no guarantees concerning the future, but at least Kyo had a chance. A chance to break free of his prison of bitterness and self-loathing. A chance to grow, and find a new destiny for himself. A chance for happiness.

He helped Shigure put the children to bed, waited until Kyo transformed so that he could slip the beads over his son's wrist, then left. After all, there was no need to be there when Kyo awoke. His son did not need to see the father, the master, who had betrayed him. Kyo might understand that it had been done for his own good, but it was betrayal all the same, and no words would make it right. No apology could counteract his actions. He could only give Kyo space, and hope that one day his son would be able to look him in the face again without anger.

He was shocked when Kyo's shout reached his ears, and he turned to find his foster son pounding up the road toward him. Not as shocked when Kyo snarled at him and then attacked him. He had expected it, after all. It was only fair. Not that he would let the boy strike him, for Kyo would only be angered further if he did, but he was determined to weather the attack until Kyo's anger was spent.

He hadn't meant to counterstrike, but the boy nearly hit him and the reaction was instinctive. But he almost missed the next block. And even though he caught Kyo's fist, the words the boy spoke hit him far harder than the blow he'd not quite landed.

'Someday...someday, I'm gonna be the kind of guy my master can be proud to tell the world... "I'm his dad"!'

The words resonated through him, filled him with warmth, soothed the pain he felt in his heart.

Kyo had forgiven him.

He tripped Kyo up to get his attention, then smiled. "You are still quite the troublesome son." And he saw Kyo's eyes light up with joy, with warmth and trust. Then he lifted his son from the dirt, brushed him off, and Kyo grinned an embarrassed grin and ducked back, and he understood.

Apologies were worthless. But love, love and acceptance could cover many things. And if Kyo could forgive him, then he could forgive himself.

He could not apologize, but he would do everything he could, to help Kyo find his way. No matter what obstacles they faced, he would be there to support his son.

Author's Note: Kazuma is one of my favorite characters, but we don't really see enough of him in the anime to get a good feel for him. Still, I'm hoping I got his mental voice right.