[leopold]
INTERRUPTION, ESTRANGEMENT AND DISTORTION
by akira_chan
The three of them were quiet as they walked away from the Touya household, letting that melancholy wash over them. Even Hikaru didn't seem half as bouncy and insanely euphoric as he normally did, he just glanced back where they came every so often, worried. Hikaru didn't want to say it, but Akira looked like shit.
Waya was the first to break the silence as they sat on the train, running his fingers through his brown hair. "He didn't look well." The words came slowly, a quiet tone that fit the entire mood of the day. He actually looked very concerned, which wasn't something that was normally suited between him and Akira.
Hikaru and Isumi nodded in agreement. For the moment they were silent, sitting very still on the train, letting the words sink in and let their thoughts come to the forefront of their minds. Every one of the boys could feel the despair running off of Akira's aura, the way he was clearly miserable and stretched to a breaking point. All of them were worried whether or not Akira would break.
"We have to do something." Hikaru finally said, causing the other two to look over at him.
"There's nothing you can do, Shindou." Isumi pointed out, sighing a little. He understood the sentiment really, because even though he wasn't close to Touya, he could see just how this was wearing him thin. "It just takes time when you lose someone to move past it."
"Yeah, but it hurts a whole lot, and I don't want him to be hurt." He sucked on his bottom lip, worrying at it because he didn't want this for his friend. Hikaru had an ache in his chest that reminded him about losing Sai. He remembered the blinding pain, the feeling of loss and hopelessness. He liked Akira, his rival was a good friend. He hated that Akira must be feeling the same.
Waya just sighed and put his arm lazily over Hikaru's shoulders. He hated that Akira made Hikaru feel all these extremes. "Give him some space, it's the best thing you can do for him right now."
Pouting, Hikaru nodded a little, realizing Waya was right. If Touya needed them, he would reach out to them, wouldn't he? He hoped so. Hikaru hadn't, but that didn't mean Touya would behave the same way. He just slumped in his seat, letting the silence overtake them.
None of them spoke again; the train ride ended and they parted ways.
*****
The house stood silent. None of the lights came on that night, three days later. No windows were opened and inside no movement could be detected.
Around eight in the evening, the sound of the shower coming on startled Akira out of his daze. He'd been lying in bed, eyes glazed over as he looked at the same page of Weekly Go he'd been looking at since late afternoon. A shiver trailed its way from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine; Akira shuddered. At first he thought it was his mother, taking her evening bath, but then he realized it had to be his father.
There was a deep, sorrowful pit low in his stomach. He rolled away from the book and drew his knees up to his chest. It just didn't seem fair that his mother did this. Every time he closed his eyes he'd see it. Akira couldn't go to sleep.
After half an hour he could hear his father stepping around the hallway and down each stair. The steps led away from the stairs and he knew where the man was headed - the kitchen. Sweat beaded on his forehead and the back of his neck, a shudder trailing from his nape to the base of his spine.
A whimper escaped his lips and he hurriedly brought a hand up to stifile himself, but once it started, he couldn't stop. Akira's shoulders trembled and he had to grasp the sheet beneath him to keep from running to the door and down the stairs to stop his father.
Don't go in there.
Akira wanted to scream it, to warn his father like he had nearly a week prior, but aside from the whimpering, he couldn't find his voice. His mouth wasn't working.
Don't look.
He covered his eyes, grimacing and trying to block everything out.
Don't listen.
With his eyes scrunched closed, he moved his hands to his ears to block out his mother's cries for help, telling him that he needs to leave and not touch her, not call anyone. His imagination was filling in things that hadn't happened but he didn't consciously realize this. Akira's memories of that night were sketchy at best.
Back away. Run.
Akira got to his feet and scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall. Then he began to scream, curled up as tight as he could be, eyes still scrunched closed and hands pressed tightly over his ears.
Out in the hallway, Kouyo walked upstairs and back to his room, leaving his son to anguish alone. He could hear the teen screaming but he wanted nothing to do with it. He shut his door, turning his back on Akira. He couldn't deal with it right then, perhaps ever again.
*****
Ashiwara Hiroyuki became concerned when Touya Kouyo had not reinstated their lessons after two weeks. Akira-kun hadn't returned to games yet either. Naturally he was worried if they were eating right, or dealing well with the loss of their wife and mother. So the best he could do, was go over with a casserole in his arms. Ashiwara knocked at the door.
It took a few minutes for someone to answer the door, and three tries on the young man's part. Akira was the one who was there, standing before him. Akira looked a mess. There were bags under his eyes, he was looking gaunt and like the slightest breeze would knock him over, His clothes had been thrown on hastily that morning, or perhaps even the day before and were wrinkled. When Ashiwara met his eyes he could see they were bloodshot.
He couldn't stop the sudden intake of breath, nor could he stop the plastic container hitting the porch as he wrapped his arms around bony shoulders. Ashiwara could feel the young man fighting his grip initially, but he did not let go. Akira sagged against his chest, he could feel the hot breath and finally the tears against his shirt. It was sad to him, he was way too young to lose his mother that way, and it was clear that he was trying to take care of himself. It was also clear the young man was so sad and tired he needed to be taken care of.
Ashiwara swallowed and held Akira just a little bit tighter. He timidly moved his fingers to run them through his hair. "Where's your father, Akira-kun?"
The young man didn't answer at first, his shoulders shaking and the quiet sobs were overtaking his smaller form. Ashiwara could feel Akira's fingers at his sides closing into a fist as he tried to regain control over the emotions he normally held so much dominion over.
"Akira-kun?" Ashiwara tried again, in a soft, patient tone. He would have to coax Akira without pressuring him.
"Upstairs." Akira said after a few moments, swallowing a few times to curb his tears. Ashiwara's hands ran up and down his back in a soothing motion before he let go of the child and headed up to Kouyo's room.
He heard Akira shut the front door behind him, but he wasn't sure if he picked up the food or not. No matter, clearly Touya-sensei needed someone to kick his ass. Akira-kun shouldn't be suffering so, in his opinion, and it was clear that his Sensei wasn't doing anything to ease his son's suffering.
Ashiwara paused outside the door, thinking about this first, then he knocked. He didn't receive an answer, but after a moment he tried again. There was still no sound from within. With a frown on his face, he opened the door and entered the room.
*****
When he left the master bedroom, Ashiwara felt a little better about the situation in the Touya house. Touya Kouyo had not been entirely receptive, but he seemed to be doing a little better then when Ashiwara first entered. He moved back down the stairs, where he found Akira standing by the door, looking a little lost. He couldn't help it, he embraced the child again. "You need to eat, Akira-kun."
Akira sniffled and shook his head against Ashiwara's chest. This time he didn't fight the hug, he just sunk into it, welcoming the much needed contact.
"I brought over some food. I'll get it." He let go of Akira and opened the door. He could feel the other's eyes watching him as he stooped to pick up the dropped container. He was relieved that it hadn't spilled.
When Ashiwara stood and turned around, Akira was still standing there, watching him. He offered an easy smile and entered the house again, closing the door. He put his arm around the teen's shoulders and steered them towards the kitchen.
It didn't take very long for Akira to realize this, and he turned a ghostly shade of white and stopped moving, and no amount of prodding made him move. Ashiwara was admittedly confused by this.
Ashiwara stepped towards it without him and suddenly cool fingers grasped his arm, squeezing tightly.
"Don't go in there." Akira told him, his voice rasping with the hoarseness of repressed emotions and fear.
"Akira-kun? What's wrong?" His brow creased and he frowned a little, looking concerned.
"It's in there. Don't go in there." Akira whimpered, visibly trembling. His grip hadn't loosened at all and it was getting to be a little painful.
It was clear to him that Akira-kun was afraid. Ashiwara faltered. He didn't know what to do, it wasn't as though Akira had ever been terrified of his house before. His mind whirled, trying to process just what was going on.
"Tell you what. I'll check it out, okay?"
A small bit of tongue came out and ran along his dry lips. Akira seemed to be inwardly debating this statement and then he nodded a little, slowly loosening his grip a little.
Ashiwara peeked into the room, and when he tried to step further, Akira's grasp tightened even more painfully and he frowned. He didn't see anything. "I just want to warm up dinner."
"No! It's so red. You can't!" Akira said between gasps, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead already, the start of a panic attack.
There was nothing red at all that he could see, but Akira was panicking. Just what was he seeing? Ashiwara cleared his throat. "What's red, Akira-kun?"
"The floor...the counter...the cupboards..." Akira said, taking in deep gasping breaths between each item. "Mom, mom is red..." There were tears at the corner of his eyes and they spilled down his cheeks.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what Akira was seeing and he pulled the boy away from there with a sudden jerk and then back into his arms. "It's okay. She's not there. It's not there." Ashiwara frowned as he tried to soothe Akira. He couldn't possibly have seen...?
His blood ran cold and his heart found a spot somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Something told him Akira had seen his mother's body. Touya Akira had to have been the one who found his mother.
*****
The sun rose over the Touya house that Monday finally breathing a little life into the house. Akira awoke feeling less guilty then before for enjoying the warmth as it washed over him and he knew he had to go back to work. That night had spared him the nightmare, it could have been that the culmination of a week of little sleep just caused him to keel over in exhaustion.
He stood up, stumbling a bit but caught himself on his desk chair. For the first time in two weeks, Akira was leaving the house, so he got dressed in clean clothes and brushed out his hair. He glanced in the mirror and found he looked alright. This was better then he'd felt in the past few days. Ashiwara-san's visit had really helped him let out more of his tears.
Although, his advice to seek help was one thing he was about to ignore. Akira didn't need any further embarrassments. He'd suffered enough of them as of late to last a lifetime.
He walked downstairs, not bothering with his father anymore. He'd decided awhile ago that if the man wanted to lock himself away then Akira was just going to have to cope without him. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he really needed to consume breakfast. Akira stopped at the bottom of the stairs, lingering and wasting time as he looked at the shadowed doorway of the kitchen.
He gulped and took a single step forward. No, he could eat out of course, he had enough money for that. Akira shifted focus on his coat and pulled it over his shoulders, then made sure he had his wallet and keys. Yeah, he didn't have to go into the kitchen. It was better that way and he wans't ready. With a quick shoe change, he called out his goodbyes and headed out of the house.
*****
It didn't take very long to hit up the nearest convenience store, selecting two rice balls and an energy drink. Akira needed to keep his focus. He brought the items to the counter and handed over the money when the total came up. He briefly glanced at the paper, but decided not to purchase it, instead focusing on getting to his game with a clear head. So far so good.
He negotiated the stairs with ease and felt rather proud of himself when he edged over the top of the staircase. He didn't need to glance at the map today, Akira took a seat near the stop and opened his riceball, positioning the plastic carefully before biting into it. It was average, but there was nothing he could do without a kitchen.
Akira suddered suddenly. No, he couldn't think of the kitchen today. He needed to focus and keep his concentration. He could not throw another game away. His ranking wouldn't go up and he wanted it to. He had goals and ambition, something that until that morning he'd completely forgotten. His mother had always supported his ambitions, there was no reason she should stop, just because her life with him had ended.
The thoughts were dark and he curled into himself, pulling his coat tight around him. Akira wanted to feel better, he wanted everything to magically be okay, but naturally it couldn't. With his chin quivering, he brought the rice ball to his lips and took another bite.
Focus, focus, focus. It became his mantra. But each time he told himself to focus, he lost it, wallowing in the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. Why had she left him? He felt the now familiar prickling at his eyes and stood, dropping the remnants of breakfast and dashed down the stairs. He'd return to games soon, but not today.
Today was a failure.
*****
The next morning, Akira woke up early, his heart racing and sweat pouring down the sides of his face. He curled up tightly and stared at the clock. He was due to get up in two hours and he'd be damned if he fell asleep again. He trembled under the blanket as though cold, but he wasn't, just afraid. There was blood everywhere.
He sucked in three gulps of air and tried to calm down, trying to move past his nightmare. Logically, Akira knew that's what it was, but that didn't ease his breathing or stop his heart from racing. Slowly the colour seeped back into his cheeks and face, and his pallor improved. He recovered, but it took a long time. Why couldn't Akira shake this?
Since he had the time, he got up and took a shower to try and calm his nerves. Every inch of his skin felt hypersensitive and each droplet of water seared his back, but Akira didn't care and remained under the hot water. Finally he improved and began to feel human again. Once clean, he got dressed like the day before and tried again.
The ritual was the same, groom, leave and eat some breakfast made by some merchant. This time he made it to the Institute and he relaxed a little. Getting there was exhausting and it felt like half the battle alone. That confused Akira, because it didn't make sense. He'd done this countless times and it had never been so difficult.
He exhaled and pushed open the door, entering the lobby. It was as busy as ever, people animated and pleased, but some looked his way and gave him pitying looks. He squirmed, uncomfortable in his skin all of a sudden. Akira wished to be anyone but himself right then. He didn't want those glances. They were judging and they made him squirm inwardly.
Shuddering breaths and blocking them out did the trick as he moved to the elevator and pressed the call button.
"Touya!" A very loud voice announced the owner's presence and a hand came down on his shoulder.
Akira nearly jumped out of his skin. "Shindou." He said tersely with a frown.
Hikaru couldn't help but notice how rigid Akira was holding himself, stiff and clearly annoyed. He tried to figure out what was angering him and then he realized everyone was quieter, watching him. He slung his arm around the younger teen's shoulders and glared at the onlookers before grinning at him. "Looking forward to your match? I hear your opponant's a real challenge!"
"O-Of course I am." Akira said, giving Hikaru something of a strange look. It wasn't like his rival to touch him so - the cemetary didn't count, in his mind. At that moment, however, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the distraction. Hikaru's exuberance could overshadow his demons and chase them away.
"Great! At lunch, you'll have to come to the fast food place with us. You need to eat more!" Hikaru's laughter echoed as they entered the elevator and pressed the call button. Once the doors closed, he did let go of his rival's shoulders reluctantly.
Akira smiled a little, weak as it was, and straightened.
"You haven't called me. Have you been alright?" Hikaru asked softly, looking him over. "And you are coming to lunch with us!'
"Shindou I've been..." Akira swallowed. He couldn't bring himself to lie to him for some reason. Hikaru was almost always honest with him in an earnest overactive way and he couldn't help but follow suit. "It's been hard."
"Yeah, I know it's been. But you're going to be okay, right Touya?" Hikaru said, almost with a gentleness he didn't normally show. Their rivalry was all sparks and yelling, but this wasn't the time nor the place for it.
"I'll be okay." Akira said softly as the doors opened and for the first time in weeks, he believed it.
*****
Lunchtime came and Akira personally felt much better because he'd opened his game with minimal distraction and although he wasn't playing to his callibre, he had a feeling his opponant wasn't either. Although this annoyed him, there wasn't much he could do about it, nor did he think he could even beg for a better game. He was losing, but for the first time Akira didn't care about that. It was just satisfying to make heads and tails of the goban again. He was looking forward to decompressing at lunch and relaxing.
He forgot that Hikaru had made other plans. He was startled by unfamiliar hands landing on his shoulders and when Akira tilted his head back he was looking at a grinning brunette who had a penchant for camouflage.
"Touya! Shindou says we're eating, come on!" Waya had a pleasant façade going on. It wasn't as though he liked Akira, however this was bigger then some petty hatred. He could see why Hikaru was concerned, he was thin and bony and he still looked horrible. Waya couldn't hate someone that looked like they could barely stand under their own power.
"Ah right. I'd nearly forgotten." On purpose, Akira would wager if he thought about it. He tried another smile but it didn't feel right so he dropped it and got to his feet.
"Come on." Waya encouraged, leading him out of the game room. He grinned and waved to Hikaru. Isumi wasn't there that day, so it would just be the three of them.
Hikaru waved and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Come on, I know a short cut!" He grinned and took Akira by the hand and swept him along for the ride he and Waya were familiar with. They took the elevator downstairs and bypassed the lobby by heading down a hall towards the back door.
Akira's mind reeled, it was difficult to comprehend just what was happening, but he decided not to fight it or worry about it and he followed after the two hyperactive pros.
*****
By the end of the day, Akira was exhausted. It was the first day in a long time that he'd been out and about and it was wearing on him. He lost his game, but he had a fairly amicable lunch with Shindou and Waya. The brunette hadn't even seemed hostile. He left the room before the other two and headed for the elevator right away. He made his escape and headed home, remembering to pick up a meal for himself. Akira hesitated over getting one for his father as well, but he couldn't be bothered. It would make the man leave his room if nothing else.
When he thought about his father, he got angry. When he got angry he felt bitterly guilty and finally he felt lonely. A small part of him wondered if anything could seem right again between them because he just needed his father to come back to the surface. At the same time, Akira could no longer reach out to him. He was tired, very tired.
Akira moved into a new routine. Leaving the house became easier and easier. He would wake up, clean himself and leave to eat and play his games. He would then return home, eat a meal and go to bed early, despite knowing he'd be bombarded with images of blood and sounds of screams. He'd wake up long before his alarm, damp from sweat and out of breath.
Finally, one morning when Akira headed downstairs, Touya Kouyo was sitting at the kitchen table, having coffee as he read the paper, looking as though nothing happened, as though he'd pushed everything aside.
Irrationally, Akira's blood boiled. He took a few steps towards the kitchen and glared, still two feet from the threshold. "How can you just..."
"Good morning Akira." Kouyo said calmly, nonchalantly. "Was there something you wanted?"
His fingers tightened into a fist, and his arms trembled. "No." Akira had never wanted to hit the man so much in his life, but he knew better then that. How could he just sit there? Sit in the kitchen, pretending nothing was wong, that nothing happened?! He whirled on his heel and stomped out the door, shutting it firmly behind him after he'd called his goodbye.
*****
Every morning after that was the same. Kouyo would sit in the kitchen, have his breakfast calmly and every day Akira would just glare at him and leave. He stopped trying to talk to the man because it was impossible.
It didn't take long at all, before the man decided to travel. Not a month after losing his wife, he departed in the middle of the day for a short stay in Korea.
Akira didn't find out until he came home to a darkened, empty house. He frowned initially. It had been a week or so since his father had left his room and he didn't think he was going to have retreated there again. First he solved the problem with the lighting and turned on the nearest lightswitches, illuminating the entrance and the stairway. Then he walked up the stairs, pausing at the top turn light up the hall and then he knocked at the door.
"Father?" Akira called softly.
There wasn't an answer, so he knocked again. "Father!" Akira said, hands trembling and then he opened the door. He didn't see him on the bed, so he reached over and lit up the room. With a deep breath he walked inside the room. Kouyo was not there.
He swallowed and stepped backwards out into the hall, leaving the door open and then, panting he stumbled about the house, checking his room, the bathroom and the guest room in a few quick steps, leaving lights on in his wake. He wasn't upstairs. "FATHER!"
Akira turned and ran down the stairs, nearly tripping, his one hand grasping the other. He checked the study, and the living room but there were not signs of Kouyo. He bolted to the back door and yanked the glass door open with a jerk and stepped out onto the porch. He looked around, his breath hitching in his throat.
That left only the kitchen. With shuddering breaths, he reentered the house and padded slowly over to the doorway of the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, looking into the darkness. He couldn't see if the man was there or not. Shaking, he held his hand out and pressed the lightswitch.
His vision was bathed in red. Akira screamed and closed his eyes tightly, covering his ears. The last thing that he registered in his mind before passing out was that his father was not there.
*****
When he came to, he realized he was half in the kitchen and scrambled out of it on all fours quickly, leaning up against the wall, breathing hard. Akira basked in the light that he'd unleashed upon the house to chase the demons away and then realized he had to look in the kitchen. He swallowed, leaned towards the door frame and gripped it with an unsteady hand and peered around the corner.
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. It was as clean as it had ever been. There was a note on the fridge, and it was fortunate he could see it from there, because Akira had no intentions of stepping into the room. He exhaled and leaned out. His father had gone to Korea. Why hadn't he said anything? It wasn't like him to conceal that kind of information, but the more he thought about it, they hadn't talked in a long time.
The house was eerily quiet. Akira swallowed a few times, trying to get his bearings and reigning in his fear. He could do this, he was practically an adult, only three years away. It was just a house, the same old house he'd ever been in since he was a baby. Nothing scary, nothing out of the ordinary...
She sat there, slumped against the cabinet below the sink, her eyes dull and clouded over. Lifeless. Akiko's carefully placed hair had come loose, the ends stained with her blood as it had washed out of her and redecorated the kitchen floor, cabinets and wall. It continued to drip from one of her wrist wounds, but it was a slow, languid motion because her heart had stopped beating some time ago. Akiko never moved from that position. She was unaware that her son came home and called his greetings and in confusion stepped towards the kitchen instead of heading upstairs. She missed seeing the blood rush from his face and the way he just stood there, staring at her in a daze. She missed him falling to his knees, staining his clothes and hands as he cried in anguish. It wasn't supposed to be that way. Akira was never meant to see her, she expected Kouyo to find her first. There was however, no way to save Akira then, just like he had no way of saving her.
The memory slammed into him like a car on the highway and Akira fell forward, his hand at his mouth. He couldn't stop the bile from rising and emptying his stomach contents on the floor. Akira was leaning forward on his knees, his hands shoulder width apart as he lost the food he'd consumed that day. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, as he sobbed, bringing a hand back up to his mouth. Why must the memory torment him? Hadn't he suffered enough?
Akira could barely remember what happened after that moment; he remembered facing his father and breaking the news to him in a monotonous tone. He remembered being struck for not calling an ambulence, and he recalled the ambulence coming and taking her away. Akira didn't think his father had looked at the kitchen. Whisps of voices, sounds and images were muddled in his mind from that night. He recalled someone telling him he was in shock and that it would wear off, and a woman telling him he would be okay. Nothing else came to mind except the blood. The blood was all over him, and he remembered sitting in the bath scrubbing as hard as he could, until he skin was red and raw, trying to get the blood off his hands. But it wouldn't leave them. His vision blurred, staring at his hands, oh God, they had blood dripping from them right then!
A scream tore through his throat, making it raw as he threw up again on the floor, shaking completely from head to toe. Why wouldn't it leave him alone? Tears ran down his cheeks as he sobbed and brought a hand to his stomach. No more, he couldn't take this anymore. He cried hard, falling over on his side, away from the mess he made on the floor as he cried. He wanted his mother. He wanted his father. He wanted someone, anyone right then. Akira had never felt more alone in his life. It never used to bother him, but right then it did.
He cried and screamed like a child and he tried to stop. His mind was furious with him because he wasn't a child and he shouldn't behave like one, but part of him just didn't care. Akira wanted his parents, and he wanted company. He needed to be taken care of for the first time in his life and nobody was able to do it. He sobbed, jerking a little on the floor, on his back. Akira wanted to call for help so badly, but there was nobody to call.
When he worked the cries out of his symptoms, with trembling arms he forced himself to get up on his hands and knees, trembling from the exhaustion. He needed a bath. Then he needed to clean up the mess he made. It wouldn't do to have the house dirty. If he cleaned, maybe his father would come back. That made sense, his father liked order, much like he did.
*****
Every morning he woke up, his father was still gone. Akira was hurt that Kouyo had not called at all, or said anything except to leave that written note on the refridgerator. It didn't used to matter that his father traveled, but suddenly it did, because he was feeling so dependant and it didn't feel right. Akira had never been more dependant and now that he wanted to be, there was no one there.
He wondered if he'd driven his father off. He hadn't meant to, he just wanted to make sure the man ate and kept healthy. There was nothing wrong with that, right? Akira felt so miserable. It was the most painful to see the lone goban on the floor in his father's study, their morning games nothing more then a distant memory.
It made his chest constrict ever so painfully. Akira missed those games most of all. He didn't know how to contact his father and he didn't want to seem clingy, but he wanted his father back from wherever he was. He just didn't want to be alone in that house anymore. Why did he have to be alone all of a sudden?
The phone interrupted his musing one morning and he moved very fast, catching it on the second ring. His voice was breathless and excited. He was worried. "Hello?"
"Akira." Came his father's voice from the other end. "Clean up the house, I think I'm going to sell it."
He swallowed and nearly dropped the phone. "But...aren't you coming home?"
"There's nothing there for me anymore."
That time, the phone slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground.
*****
When his wits returned to him, Akira picked up the phone, grasping it tightly like a lifeline. "Father!" He called into the phone, but he heard nothing but dial tone. Akira swallowed his emotions and slowly lowered the receiver and pressed it into place. It was so hard to accept that he was nothing. How did that come about? Just when had their respected relationship fall apart?
No, Akira barked at himself, he had to put this out of his mind, he couldn't cry about this, he was not a baby. He grasped his shirt at his chest, and let out a few heavy sighs. Akira needed to regain control of his life. He looked around the house. It was so stifling and oppressive. It was huge and poorly lit and he hated it.
Akira understood wanting to sell, very well. But why did his father have to abandon him, and more then that, to put everything back on his shoulders? His fists clenched, he was getting angry again and he had to curb these emotions. This wasn't like him. He was used to being in control. He needed to do something, anything to just get this resentment pushed aside.
Looking around, it came to him. Akira had to get out of there. With that realization, he vowed to find his own place to live. If he was being discarded, then he wasn't going to lie down and take it, he would prove he was fine.
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by akira_chan
The three of them were quiet as they walked away from the Touya household, letting that melancholy wash over them. Even Hikaru didn't seem half as bouncy and insanely euphoric as he normally did, he just glanced back where they came every so often, worried. Hikaru didn't want to say it, but Akira looked like shit.
Waya was the first to break the silence as they sat on the train, running his fingers through his brown hair. "He didn't look well." The words came slowly, a quiet tone that fit the entire mood of the day. He actually looked very concerned, which wasn't something that was normally suited between him and Akira.
Hikaru and Isumi nodded in agreement. For the moment they were silent, sitting very still on the train, letting the words sink in and let their thoughts come to the forefront of their minds. Every one of the boys could feel the despair running off of Akira's aura, the way he was clearly miserable and stretched to a breaking point. All of them were worried whether or not Akira would break.
"We have to do something." Hikaru finally said, causing the other two to look over at him.
"There's nothing you can do, Shindou." Isumi pointed out, sighing a little. He understood the sentiment really, because even though he wasn't close to Touya, he could see just how this was wearing him thin. "It just takes time when you lose someone to move past it."
"Yeah, but it hurts a whole lot, and I don't want him to be hurt." He sucked on his bottom lip, worrying at it because he didn't want this for his friend. Hikaru had an ache in his chest that reminded him about losing Sai. He remembered the blinding pain, the feeling of loss and hopelessness. He liked Akira, his rival was a good friend. He hated that Akira must be feeling the same.
Waya just sighed and put his arm lazily over Hikaru's shoulders. He hated that Akira made Hikaru feel all these extremes. "Give him some space, it's the best thing you can do for him right now."
Pouting, Hikaru nodded a little, realizing Waya was right. If Touya needed them, he would reach out to them, wouldn't he? He hoped so. Hikaru hadn't, but that didn't mean Touya would behave the same way. He just slumped in his seat, letting the silence overtake them.
None of them spoke again; the train ride ended and they parted ways.
*****
The house stood silent. None of the lights came on that night, three days later. No windows were opened and inside no movement could be detected.
Around eight in the evening, the sound of the shower coming on startled Akira out of his daze. He'd been lying in bed, eyes glazed over as he looked at the same page of Weekly Go he'd been looking at since late afternoon. A shiver trailed its way from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine; Akira shuddered. At first he thought it was his mother, taking her evening bath, but then he realized it had to be his father.
There was a deep, sorrowful pit low in his stomach. He rolled away from the book and drew his knees up to his chest. It just didn't seem fair that his mother did this. Every time he closed his eyes he'd see it. Akira couldn't go to sleep.
After half an hour he could hear his father stepping around the hallway and down each stair. The steps led away from the stairs and he knew where the man was headed - the kitchen. Sweat beaded on his forehead and the back of his neck, a shudder trailing from his nape to the base of his spine.
A whimper escaped his lips and he hurriedly brought a hand up to stifile himself, but once it started, he couldn't stop. Akira's shoulders trembled and he had to grasp the sheet beneath him to keep from running to the door and down the stairs to stop his father.
Don't go in there.
Akira wanted to scream it, to warn his father like he had nearly a week prior, but aside from the whimpering, he couldn't find his voice. His mouth wasn't working.
Don't look.
He covered his eyes, grimacing and trying to block everything out.
Don't listen.
With his eyes scrunched closed, he moved his hands to his ears to block out his mother's cries for help, telling him that he needs to leave and not touch her, not call anyone. His imagination was filling in things that hadn't happened but he didn't consciously realize this. Akira's memories of that night were sketchy at best.
Back away. Run.
Akira got to his feet and scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall. Then he began to scream, curled up as tight as he could be, eyes still scrunched closed and hands pressed tightly over his ears.
Out in the hallway, Kouyo walked upstairs and back to his room, leaving his son to anguish alone. He could hear the teen screaming but he wanted nothing to do with it. He shut his door, turning his back on Akira. He couldn't deal with it right then, perhaps ever again.
*****
Ashiwara Hiroyuki became concerned when Touya Kouyo had not reinstated their lessons after two weeks. Akira-kun hadn't returned to games yet either. Naturally he was worried if they were eating right, or dealing well with the loss of their wife and mother. So the best he could do, was go over with a casserole in his arms. Ashiwara knocked at the door.
It took a few minutes for someone to answer the door, and three tries on the young man's part. Akira was the one who was there, standing before him. Akira looked a mess. There were bags under his eyes, he was looking gaunt and like the slightest breeze would knock him over, His clothes had been thrown on hastily that morning, or perhaps even the day before and were wrinkled. When Ashiwara met his eyes he could see they were bloodshot.
He couldn't stop the sudden intake of breath, nor could he stop the plastic container hitting the porch as he wrapped his arms around bony shoulders. Ashiwara could feel the young man fighting his grip initially, but he did not let go. Akira sagged against his chest, he could feel the hot breath and finally the tears against his shirt. It was sad to him, he was way too young to lose his mother that way, and it was clear that he was trying to take care of himself. It was also clear the young man was so sad and tired he needed to be taken care of.
Ashiwara swallowed and held Akira just a little bit tighter. He timidly moved his fingers to run them through his hair. "Where's your father, Akira-kun?"
The young man didn't answer at first, his shoulders shaking and the quiet sobs were overtaking his smaller form. Ashiwara could feel Akira's fingers at his sides closing into a fist as he tried to regain control over the emotions he normally held so much dominion over.
"Akira-kun?" Ashiwara tried again, in a soft, patient tone. He would have to coax Akira without pressuring him.
"Upstairs." Akira said after a few moments, swallowing a few times to curb his tears. Ashiwara's hands ran up and down his back in a soothing motion before he let go of the child and headed up to Kouyo's room.
He heard Akira shut the front door behind him, but he wasn't sure if he picked up the food or not. No matter, clearly Touya-sensei needed someone to kick his ass. Akira-kun shouldn't be suffering so, in his opinion, and it was clear that his Sensei wasn't doing anything to ease his son's suffering.
Ashiwara paused outside the door, thinking about this first, then he knocked. He didn't receive an answer, but after a moment he tried again. There was still no sound from within. With a frown on his face, he opened the door and entered the room.
*****
When he left the master bedroom, Ashiwara felt a little better about the situation in the Touya house. Touya Kouyo had not been entirely receptive, but he seemed to be doing a little better then when Ashiwara first entered. He moved back down the stairs, where he found Akira standing by the door, looking a little lost. He couldn't help it, he embraced the child again. "You need to eat, Akira-kun."
Akira sniffled and shook his head against Ashiwara's chest. This time he didn't fight the hug, he just sunk into it, welcoming the much needed contact.
"I brought over some food. I'll get it." He let go of Akira and opened the door. He could feel the other's eyes watching him as he stooped to pick up the dropped container. He was relieved that it hadn't spilled.
When Ashiwara stood and turned around, Akira was still standing there, watching him. He offered an easy smile and entered the house again, closing the door. He put his arm around the teen's shoulders and steered them towards the kitchen.
It didn't take very long for Akira to realize this, and he turned a ghostly shade of white and stopped moving, and no amount of prodding made him move. Ashiwara was admittedly confused by this.
Ashiwara stepped towards it without him and suddenly cool fingers grasped his arm, squeezing tightly.
"Don't go in there." Akira told him, his voice rasping with the hoarseness of repressed emotions and fear.
"Akira-kun? What's wrong?" His brow creased and he frowned a little, looking concerned.
"It's in there. Don't go in there." Akira whimpered, visibly trembling. His grip hadn't loosened at all and it was getting to be a little painful.
It was clear to him that Akira-kun was afraid. Ashiwara faltered. He didn't know what to do, it wasn't as though Akira had ever been terrified of his house before. His mind whirled, trying to process just what was going on.
"Tell you what. I'll check it out, okay?"
A small bit of tongue came out and ran along his dry lips. Akira seemed to be inwardly debating this statement and then he nodded a little, slowly loosening his grip a little.
Ashiwara peeked into the room, and when he tried to step further, Akira's grasp tightened even more painfully and he frowned. He didn't see anything. "I just want to warm up dinner."
"No! It's so red. You can't!" Akira said between gasps, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead already, the start of a panic attack.
There was nothing red at all that he could see, but Akira was panicking. Just what was he seeing? Ashiwara cleared his throat. "What's red, Akira-kun?"
"The floor...the counter...the cupboards..." Akira said, taking in deep gasping breaths between each item. "Mom, mom is red..." There were tears at the corner of his eyes and they spilled down his cheeks.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what Akira was seeing and he pulled the boy away from there with a sudden jerk and then back into his arms. "It's okay. She's not there. It's not there." Ashiwara frowned as he tried to soothe Akira. He couldn't possibly have seen...?
His blood ran cold and his heart found a spot somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Something told him Akira had seen his mother's body. Touya Akira had to have been the one who found his mother.
*****
The sun rose over the Touya house that Monday finally breathing a little life into the house. Akira awoke feeling less guilty then before for enjoying the warmth as it washed over him and he knew he had to go back to work. That night had spared him the nightmare, it could have been that the culmination of a week of little sleep just caused him to keel over in exhaustion.
He stood up, stumbling a bit but caught himself on his desk chair. For the first time in two weeks, Akira was leaving the house, so he got dressed in clean clothes and brushed out his hair. He glanced in the mirror and found he looked alright. This was better then he'd felt in the past few days. Ashiwara-san's visit had really helped him let out more of his tears.
Although, his advice to seek help was one thing he was about to ignore. Akira didn't need any further embarrassments. He'd suffered enough of them as of late to last a lifetime.
He walked downstairs, not bothering with his father anymore. He'd decided awhile ago that if the man wanted to lock himself away then Akira was just going to have to cope without him. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he really needed to consume breakfast. Akira stopped at the bottom of the stairs, lingering and wasting time as he looked at the shadowed doorway of the kitchen.
He gulped and took a single step forward. No, he could eat out of course, he had enough money for that. Akira shifted focus on his coat and pulled it over his shoulders, then made sure he had his wallet and keys. Yeah, he didn't have to go into the kitchen. It was better that way and he wans't ready. With a quick shoe change, he called out his goodbyes and headed out of the house.
*****
It didn't take very long to hit up the nearest convenience store, selecting two rice balls and an energy drink. Akira needed to keep his focus. He brought the items to the counter and handed over the money when the total came up. He briefly glanced at the paper, but decided not to purchase it, instead focusing on getting to his game with a clear head. So far so good.
He negotiated the stairs with ease and felt rather proud of himself when he edged over the top of the staircase. He didn't need to glance at the map today, Akira took a seat near the stop and opened his riceball, positioning the plastic carefully before biting into it. It was average, but there was nothing he could do without a kitchen.
Akira suddered suddenly. No, he couldn't think of the kitchen today. He needed to focus and keep his concentration. He could not throw another game away. His ranking wouldn't go up and he wanted it to. He had goals and ambition, something that until that morning he'd completely forgotten. His mother had always supported his ambitions, there was no reason she should stop, just because her life with him had ended.
The thoughts were dark and he curled into himself, pulling his coat tight around him. Akira wanted to feel better, he wanted everything to magically be okay, but naturally it couldn't. With his chin quivering, he brought the rice ball to his lips and took another bite.
Focus, focus, focus. It became his mantra. But each time he told himself to focus, he lost it, wallowing in the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole. Why had she left him? He felt the now familiar prickling at his eyes and stood, dropping the remnants of breakfast and dashed down the stairs. He'd return to games soon, but not today.
Today was a failure.
*****
The next morning, Akira woke up early, his heart racing and sweat pouring down the sides of his face. He curled up tightly and stared at the clock. He was due to get up in two hours and he'd be damned if he fell asleep again. He trembled under the blanket as though cold, but he wasn't, just afraid. There was blood everywhere.
He sucked in three gulps of air and tried to calm down, trying to move past his nightmare. Logically, Akira knew that's what it was, but that didn't ease his breathing or stop his heart from racing. Slowly the colour seeped back into his cheeks and face, and his pallor improved. He recovered, but it took a long time. Why couldn't Akira shake this?
Since he had the time, he got up and took a shower to try and calm his nerves. Every inch of his skin felt hypersensitive and each droplet of water seared his back, but Akira didn't care and remained under the hot water. Finally he improved and began to feel human again. Once clean, he got dressed like the day before and tried again.
The ritual was the same, groom, leave and eat some breakfast made by some merchant. This time he made it to the Institute and he relaxed a little. Getting there was exhausting and it felt like half the battle alone. That confused Akira, because it didn't make sense. He'd done this countless times and it had never been so difficult.
He exhaled and pushed open the door, entering the lobby. It was as busy as ever, people animated and pleased, but some looked his way and gave him pitying looks. He squirmed, uncomfortable in his skin all of a sudden. Akira wished to be anyone but himself right then. He didn't want those glances. They were judging and they made him squirm inwardly.
Shuddering breaths and blocking them out did the trick as he moved to the elevator and pressed the call button.
"Touya!" A very loud voice announced the owner's presence and a hand came down on his shoulder.
Akira nearly jumped out of his skin. "Shindou." He said tersely with a frown.
Hikaru couldn't help but notice how rigid Akira was holding himself, stiff and clearly annoyed. He tried to figure out what was angering him and then he realized everyone was quieter, watching him. He slung his arm around the younger teen's shoulders and glared at the onlookers before grinning at him. "Looking forward to your match? I hear your opponant's a real challenge!"
"O-Of course I am." Akira said, giving Hikaru something of a strange look. It wasn't like his rival to touch him so - the cemetary didn't count, in his mind. At that moment, however, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the distraction. Hikaru's exuberance could overshadow his demons and chase them away.
"Great! At lunch, you'll have to come to the fast food place with us. You need to eat more!" Hikaru's laughter echoed as they entered the elevator and pressed the call button. Once the doors closed, he did let go of his rival's shoulders reluctantly.
Akira smiled a little, weak as it was, and straightened.
"You haven't called me. Have you been alright?" Hikaru asked softly, looking him over. "And you are coming to lunch with us!'
"Shindou I've been..." Akira swallowed. He couldn't bring himself to lie to him for some reason. Hikaru was almost always honest with him in an earnest overactive way and he couldn't help but follow suit. "It's been hard."
"Yeah, I know it's been. But you're going to be okay, right Touya?" Hikaru said, almost with a gentleness he didn't normally show. Their rivalry was all sparks and yelling, but this wasn't the time nor the place for it.
"I'll be okay." Akira said softly as the doors opened and for the first time in weeks, he believed it.
*****
Lunchtime came and Akira personally felt much better because he'd opened his game with minimal distraction and although he wasn't playing to his callibre, he had a feeling his opponant wasn't either. Although this annoyed him, there wasn't much he could do about it, nor did he think he could even beg for a better game. He was losing, but for the first time Akira didn't care about that. It was just satisfying to make heads and tails of the goban again. He was looking forward to decompressing at lunch and relaxing.
He forgot that Hikaru had made other plans. He was startled by unfamiliar hands landing on his shoulders and when Akira tilted his head back he was looking at a grinning brunette who had a penchant for camouflage.
"Touya! Shindou says we're eating, come on!" Waya had a pleasant façade going on. It wasn't as though he liked Akira, however this was bigger then some petty hatred. He could see why Hikaru was concerned, he was thin and bony and he still looked horrible. Waya couldn't hate someone that looked like they could barely stand under their own power.
"Ah right. I'd nearly forgotten." On purpose, Akira would wager if he thought about it. He tried another smile but it didn't feel right so he dropped it and got to his feet.
"Come on." Waya encouraged, leading him out of the game room. He grinned and waved to Hikaru. Isumi wasn't there that day, so it would just be the three of them.
Hikaru waved and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Come on, I know a short cut!" He grinned and took Akira by the hand and swept him along for the ride he and Waya were familiar with. They took the elevator downstairs and bypassed the lobby by heading down a hall towards the back door.
Akira's mind reeled, it was difficult to comprehend just what was happening, but he decided not to fight it or worry about it and he followed after the two hyperactive pros.
*****
By the end of the day, Akira was exhausted. It was the first day in a long time that he'd been out and about and it was wearing on him. He lost his game, but he had a fairly amicable lunch with Shindou and Waya. The brunette hadn't even seemed hostile. He left the room before the other two and headed for the elevator right away. He made his escape and headed home, remembering to pick up a meal for himself. Akira hesitated over getting one for his father as well, but he couldn't be bothered. It would make the man leave his room if nothing else.
When he thought about his father, he got angry. When he got angry he felt bitterly guilty and finally he felt lonely. A small part of him wondered if anything could seem right again between them because he just needed his father to come back to the surface. At the same time, Akira could no longer reach out to him. He was tired, very tired.
Akira moved into a new routine. Leaving the house became easier and easier. He would wake up, clean himself and leave to eat and play his games. He would then return home, eat a meal and go to bed early, despite knowing he'd be bombarded with images of blood and sounds of screams. He'd wake up long before his alarm, damp from sweat and out of breath.
Finally, one morning when Akira headed downstairs, Touya Kouyo was sitting at the kitchen table, having coffee as he read the paper, looking as though nothing happened, as though he'd pushed everything aside.
Irrationally, Akira's blood boiled. He took a few steps towards the kitchen and glared, still two feet from the threshold. "How can you just..."
"Good morning Akira." Kouyo said calmly, nonchalantly. "Was there something you wanted?"
His fingers tightened into a fist, and his arms trembled. "No." Akira had never wanted to hit the man so much in his life, but he knew better then that. How could he just sit there? Sit in the kitchen, pretending nothing was wong, that nothing happened?! He whirled on his heel and stomped out the door, shutting it firmly behind him after he'd called his goodbye.
*****
Every morning after that was the same. Kouyo would sit in the kitchen, have his breakfast calmly and every day Akira would just glare at him and leave. He stopped trying to talk to the man because it was impossible.
It didn't take long at all, before the man decided to travel. Not a month after losing his wife, he departed in the middle of the day for a short stay in Korea.
Akira didn't find out until he came home to a darkened, empty house. He frowned initially. It had been a week or so since his father had left his room and he didn't think he was going to have retreated there again. First he solved the problem with the lighting and turned on the nearest lightswitches, illuminating the entrance and the stairway. Then he walked up the stairs, pausing at the top turn light up the hall and then he knocked at the door.
"Father?" Akira called softly.
There wasn't an answer, so he knocked again. "Father!" Akira said, hands trembling and then he opened the door. He didn't see him on the bed, so he reached over and lit up the room. With a deep breath he walked inside the room. Kouyo was not there.
He swallowed and stepped backwards out into the hall, leaving the door open and then, panting he stumbled about the house, checking his room, the bathroom and the guest room in a few quick steps, leaving lights on in his wake. He wasn't upstairs. "FATHER!"
Akira turned and ran down the stairs, nearly tripping, his one hand grasping the other. He checked the study, and the living room but there were not signs of Kouyo. He bolted to the back door and yanked the glass door open with a jerk and stepped out onto the porch. He looked around, his breath hitching in his throat.
That left only the kitchen. With shuddering breaths, he reentered the house and padded slowly over to the doorway of the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, looking into the darkness. He couldn't see if the man was there or not. Shaking, he held his hand out and pressed the lightswitch.
His vision was bathed in red. Akira screamed and closed his eyes tightly, covering his ears. The last thing that he registered in his mind before passing out was that his father was not there.
*****
When he came to, he realized he was half in the kitchen and scrambled out of it on all fours quickly, leaning up against the wall, breathing hard. Akira basked in the light that he'd unleashed upon the house to chase the demons away and then realized he had to look in the kitchen. He swallowed, leaned towards the door frame and gripped it with an unsteady hand and peered around the corner.
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. It was as clean as it had ever been. There was a note on the fridge, and it was fortunate he could see it from there, because Akira had no intentions of stepping into the room. He exhaled and leaned out. His father had gone to Korea. Why hadn't he said anything? It wasn't like him to conceal that kind of information, but the more he thought about it, they hadn't talked in a long time.
The house was eerily quiet. Akira swallowed a few times, trying to get his bearings and reigning in his fear. He could do this, he was practically an adult, only three years away. It was just a house, the same old house he'd ever been in since he was a baby. Nothing scary, nothing out of the ordinary...
She sat there, slumped against the cabinet below the sink, her eyes dull and clouded over. Lifeless. Akiko's carefully placed hair had come loose, the ends stained with her blood as it had washed out of her and redecorated the kitchen floor, cabinets and wall. It continued to drip from one of her wrist wounds, but it was a slow, languid motion because her heart had stopped beating some time ago. Akiko never moved from that position. She was unaware that her son came home and called his greetings and in confusion stepped towards the kitchen instead of heading upstairs. She missed seeing the blood rush from his face and the way he just stood there, staring at her in a daze. She missed him falling to his knees, staining his clothes and hands as he cried in anguish. It wasn't supposed to be that way. Akira was never meant to see her, she expected Kouyo to find her first. There was however, no way to save Akira then, just like he had no way of saving her.
The memory slammed into him like a car on the highway and Akira fell forward, his hand at his mouth. He couldn't stop the bile from rising and emptying his stomach contents on the floor. Akira was leaning forward on his knees, his hands shoulder width apart as he lost the food he'd consumed that day. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, as he sobbed, bringing a hand back up to his mouth. Why must the memory torment him? Hadn't he suffered enough?
Akira could barely remember what happened after that moment; he remembered facing his father and breaking the news to him in a monotonous tone. He remembered being struck for not calling an ambulence, and he recalled the ambulence coming and taking her away. Akira didn't think his father had looked at the kitchen. Whisps of voices, sounds and images were muddled in his mind from that night. He recalled someone telling him he was in shock and that it would wear off, and a woman telling him he would be okay. Nothing else came to mind except the blood. The blood was all over him, and he remembered sitting in the bath scrubbing as hard as he could, until he skin was red and raw, trying to get the blood off his hands. But it wouldn't leave them. His vision blurred, staring at his hands, oh God, they had blood dripping from them right then!
A scream tore through his throat, making it raw as he threw up again on the floor, shaking completely from head to toe. Why wouldn't it leave him alone? Tears ran down his cheeks as he sobbed and brought a hand to his stomach. No more, he couldn't take this anymore. He cried hard, falling over on his side, away from the mess he made on the floor as he cried. He wanted his mother. He wanted his father. He wanted someone, anyone right then. Akira had never felt more alone in his life. It never used to bother him, but right then it did.
He cried and screamed like a child and he tried to stop. His mind was furious with him because he wasn't a child and he shouldn't behave like one, but part of him just didn't care. Akira wanted his parents, and he wanted company. He needed to be taken care of for the first time in his life and nobody was able to do it. He sobbed, jerking a little on the floor, on his back. Akira wanted to call for help so badly, but there was nobody to call.
When he worked the cries out of his symptoms, with trembling arms he forced himself to get up on his hands and knees, trembling from the exhaustion. He needed a bath. Then he needed to clean up the mess he made. It wouldn't do to have the house dirty. If he cleaned, maybe his father would come back. That made sense, his father liked order, much like he did.
*****
Every morning he woke up, his father was still gone. Akira was hurt that Kouyo had not called at all, or said anything except to leave that written note on the refridgerator. It didn't used to matter that his father traveled, but suddenly it did, because he was feeling so dependant and it didn't feel right. Akira had never been more dependant and now that he wanted to be, there was no one there.
He wondered if he'd driven his father off. He hadn't meant to, he just wanted to make sure the man ate and kept healthy. There was nothing wrong with that, right? Akira felt so miserable. It was the most painful to see the lone goban on the floor in his father's study, their morning games nothing more then a distant memory.
It made his chest constrict ever so painfully. Akira missed those games most of all. He didn't know how to contact his father and he didn't want to seem clingy, but he wanted his father back from wherever he was. He just didn't want to be alone in that house anymore. Why did he have to be alone all of a sudden?
The phone interrupted his musing one morning and he moved very fast, catching it on the second ring. His voice was breathless and excited. He was worried. "Hello?"
"Akira." Came his father's voice from the other end. "Clean up the house, I think I'm going to sell it."
He swallowed and nearly dropped the phone. "But...aren't you coming home?"
"There's nothing there for me anymore."
That time, the phone slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground.
*****
When his wits returned to him, Akira picked up the phone, grasping it tightly like a lifeline. "Father!" He called into the phone, but he heard nothing but dial tone. Akira swallowed his emotions and slowly lowered the receiver and pressed it into place. It was so hard to accept that he was nothing. How did that come about? Just when had their respected relationship fall apart?
No, Akira barked at himself, he had to put this out of his mind, he couldn't cry about this, he was not a baby. He grasped his shirt at his chest, and let out a few heavy sighs. Akira needed to regain control of his life. He looked around the house. It was so stifling and oppressive. It was huge and poorly lit and he hated it.
Akira understood wanting to sell, very well. But why did his father have to abandon him, and more then that, to put everything back on his shoulders? His fists clenched, he was getting angry again and he had to curb these emotions. This wasn't like him. He was used to being in control. He needed to do something, anything to just get this resentment pushed aside.
Looking around, it came to him. Akira had to get out of there. With that realization, he vowed to find his own place to live. If he was being discarded, then he wasn't going to lie down and take it, he would prove he was fine.
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