The Sun
University turns out to be easy enough. Akihiko sails through his first year, passes all his exams and eases into his summer holidays gladly. He’s tired of having to wake up before noon every day, and he’s tired of having to deal with his course mates. They’re pleasant enough, but a man can only take so much prattled gossip before he wants to gouge his ear drums out.
The first day he sleeps in until three in the afternoon, and then doses himself with so much coffee he doesn’t get to sleep until seven the next morning. This results in his body clock readjusting itself, and Akihiko settles into living in Tokyo at night. It turns out to be a good idea in part - the summer becomes one of the hottest on record, and sleeping through the worst parts of the day is a good way of dealing with the temperature.
On the other hand, it does leave him sleep-deprived and stroppy if he has to wake up when most people are up and about. So when someone rings the doorbell at eleven o’clock one morning, he’s not pleased.
He’s also not able to sleep through it, unfortunately. The doorbell is a harsh buzzer, and the person on the other side of the door is persistent. Finally he gives up and staggers downstairs, hair mussed madly and pyjamas scrumpled. He wrenches the door open and swears.
It’s his brother, perfectly dressed and perfectly groomed and scowling darkly. He looks Akihiko up and down, and his frown develops a tinge of smirk. Akihiko develops a scowl of his own.
“What?” he snaps, his voice hoarse from sleep.
“Your mother wants you,” says Haruhiko abruptly. No small talk, no greetings.
Akihiko nearly hits the man. “Oh?” he manages, clenching his fists.
“She has been demanding to speak to you since you ran away.”
“I left home,” says Akihiko, “I didn’t run away.”
“I see little difference.”
Akihiko resists the urge to roll his eyes, and tilts his head down so his floppy forelock covers his expression. “Is that all you came to tell me?”
Haruhiko pauses and then steps forward. The movement is so unexpected that Akihiko jumps back, inadvertently allowing his brother to sweep past and enter the apartment proper.
The older man looks around scornfully. Akihiko hasn’t been cleaning the place as well as he should have been - no one has called around for about a fortnight, and he doesn’t tidy up unless there’s someone he wants to impress coming. There are papers scattered across the floor, books piled on every available surface.
“You actually live in this dump?” says Haruhiko.
“Yes, thank you. I quite like it here. ” Akihiko stalks to the kitchen and hammers on the buttons on his coffee machine. They stand in silence as it hums to life and gurgles through the cycle.
As Akihiko hunts out the largest mug he can find, Haruhiko speaks again. “When are you going to come home?”
“I am home.”
“Stop being silly. You know what I mean. Running away like a child isn’t going to solve anything.”
“I happen to think it’s fixed my problems quite nicely.” Akihiko gulps his first mouthful of scalding coffee and bites his tongue to stop himself wincing at the burn. “Anything else?”
“You’re going to make everyone’s life difficult!” snaps Haruhiko, “Especially mine!”
Akihiko tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. They’re both being childish now, but if there was ever anything he missed it was acting like he was five again. “And?”
“Don’t you think you’ve made your point?” says the man eventually, and Akihiko rolls his eyes.
“This isn’t about a point,” he replies.
“Then come back home,” snaps Haruhiko, “Why the hell are you doing this if you admit it’s pointless?”
Akihiko laughs bitterly and turns away, fumbling in one of the kitchen drawers. Ah, perfect! He lights the cigarette with a practised flick of his lighter, and pulls heavily. “I don’t think I could explain it to you, darling brother. If you don’t understand already, then...” He shrugs. “Too bad. But at least I’m not the one stuck with our parents.”
It clearly takes a lot of self-control for Haruhiko not to stamp his foot in frustration. The older man stands very still for a long time and then turns on his heel. He strides out to the door and stops again. “I’ll be telling dad where you are.”
Akihiko allows himself to wince this time.
“And go visit your mother.” And, for once, there’s a chink of angry humanity in Haruhiko’s normally chilly and dutiful attitude. “Before I go deaf, for fuck’s sake.” The door slams behind him, just as Akihiko breaks into quiet, and slightly maniacal, giggles.
He doesn’t bother to go back to the Usami mansion to find his mother. Instead he goes back to bed, sleeps for a few extra hours and leaves the house at midnight.
It takes an hour of bar crawling to find the one Usami Akina is lurking in. Akihiko hears her before he sees her - she’s shrieking with laughter, cackling like a witch. When he finally slips through a crowd of drunk salarymen, he spots his mother clutching the bar with one hand and waving a martini glass with the other. There’s no one near to her at all; she’s laughing madly with herself.
Akihiko takes a deep breath and moves forward, slipping onto the barstool beside her. She glances over and her expression immediately sours. She slams the glass down so hard the bottom chips.
“You.” She snarls, baring her teeth. “So you finally turn up.”
“Only because...” Akihiko momentarily thinks of blaming Haruhiko, but decides that’s unfair. He wouldn’t wish his mother’s wrath on anyone. “Because...”
“You’re as bad as your father,” snaps Akina. “Excuses, excuses. Don’t you remember anything I tell you?” She’s slurring her words, even through her anger. “Remember?”
“You have to tell me what it is I should remember, mother.”
The glass chimes against her teeth as Akina empties the martini down her throat. “I had you to fight back against Fuyuhiko. I wanted to prove I was better than that stupid slut - Haruhiko’s mother. But, no!” The martini glass takes the brunt of her anger as she smashes her hand down. Fragments scatter everywhere, and everyone turns to look as Akina springs up and points at her son. “You did nothing! You were fucking useless! You ran away and abandoned the family, and left Haruhiko to do all the work. And guess what? He fucking did it; better than you could ever do! So you ruined my fucking chance!” She’s swaying on her heels, eyes bloodshot, makeup running; a complete and utter mess. “You ruined everything for me!”
The slap is pathetic, but Akihiko still instinctively cringes from the blow. Akina slaps a handful of notes onto the glass covered counter and storms off. Her son remains sitting, staring at the bar blankly.
Something chinks in front of him. He looks up to see the barman placing a whisky glass down.
“You seem like a man who needs a drink.”
Akihiko says nothing and takes his whisky gratefully.
Late that morning Akihiko arrives home in a taxi, still mostly drunk but verging onto hung-over. It’s a nasty state to be in, and Akihiko’s cursing himself for leaving the house when he staggers out of the elevator and walks straight into a man in a black trench coat.
“What the..?” He stares at the unfamiliar face for a second, wondering if running would be a viable option, before the guy grabs his arm.
“Come along, Akihiko-sama.” He speaks with the same polite tone that Tanaka-san would use, but his words are much more clipped and ruthlessly efficient. Thoroughly confused by his well-mannered kidnapper - thanks in no small amount to his drunkenness - he allows the man to lead him into his own apartment. There are another two trench-coated men standing to attention, and a third sitting on the sofa, sipping a mug of coffee. Of course.
Fuyuhiko lowers the mug and smiles as his youngest son wobbles to a halt. “Akihiko! How nice to see you! It’s been far too long, I feel.”
“Yes...” says Akihiko guardedly. Haruhiko had clearly kept his promise, the miserable git. “Might I ask how the hell you got in here?”
“Language!” smiles Fuyuhiko before explaining. “Some of these gentlemen-” He gestures to the three shifty looking men in black. “-have interesting skills. Not entirely legal, I’m sure, but very useful.”
“You broke into my home?!” This isn’t all that surprising, frankly, and pretty tame by Fuyuhiko’s standards, but Akihiko’s drunk enough to protest anyway. His father develops a put-upon expression and raises his hands innocently.
“Oh, don’t be so upset. If you hadn’t left home, then I wouldn’t have to do this. In fact, if you had made any attempt to contact us then you’d still have a lock on your front door.” Off his son’s irritated expression, he adds, “I will have it replaced.”
“Fantastic,” says Akihiko. His father beckons for him to sit down, but he stays standing. “Now, can I ask why you’ve broken into my home?”
“Isn’t it clear? I wanted to talk to you.” Fuyuhiko sips his coffee again, in an infuriatingly placid expression. “Is a father not allowed to speak to his son?”
“You have another son to talk to.”
For a few minutes there’s a frustrated silence, as Fuyuhiko considers the bottom of his coffee mug. “You are being difficult on purpose, Akihiko. Sit down. You’re swaying, and you stink of alcohol.”
“I was talking to Mother,” replies the young man, but he slumps onto the opposite sofa anyway. Fuyuhiko nods understandingly.
“She did come home early today, in a rather bad mood too. Did you have an argument?”
The look Akihiko gives his father is reptilian; annoyed and arrogant. He cannot remember the last time he spoke to his mother without it ending in a fight. Biting his tongue, he overcomes the urge to inform the other man of this and says, “Yes. You could say that.”
“Oh dear. You should try to get on with her, you know. You might be a good influence on her.” Fuyuhiko pauses and appears to think for a few seconds, considering his none too sober son critically. “Or possibly not...”
One of the be-coated men coughs respectfully. “Fuyuhiko-sama, you have an important meeting in an hour.”
The businessman sighs and tilts his head back to stare at the high ceiling. It’s a pose Akihiko is very familiar with - his father pulls it whenever he wants to say something, but hasn’t quite thought of how to address it. Normally it leads Akihiko getting irritated. He doubts this time will be an exception.
“You’re still studying law?” asks Fuyuhiko.
“Yes. It’s quite easy.” Akihiko rubs his forehead, willing his headache away.
“So, perhaps, you’ll consider joining the company once you’ve gotten the degree?”
Silence. Akihiko doesn’t even bother to look at his father.
“Ah, I see. So, what are you going to do when you’re finished?”
Akihiko shrugs. “I’ll see when I get there.”
Again, one of the other men coughs pointedly, glancing at his watch. Fuyuhiko purses his lips and stands up.
“That is not a helpful attitude. All I want is to have my sons working alongside me, working in the family business. I don’t see what you find so objectionable about this. Your brother is happy enough to do what I ask of him. Why not you?”
Akihiko looks up - it’s the first time he can ever remember his father openly challenging him, and it’s disconcerting - but says nothing. Awkward silence settles onto the penthouse. The other men shift uncomfortably on their feet, clearly not used to the sharpness of the Usami family arguments, while Akihiko and Fuyuhiko stare at each other. Eventually the light gets too much for Akihiko’s throbbing headache, and he glances down, aware that he’s lost again.
“You remind me far too much of your mother.” The older man sounds regretful. “Maybe that’s why. I could never get along with her. She never did anything I asked of her either.”
“I’d noticed,” growls Akihiko darkly. He does not like the implication that he is similar to his mother. Just because he’s slightly drunk and very argumentative... “Please do not compare me to her.”
Hissing out a long breath between his teeth, Fuyuhiko gestures to one of his men, who scurries across and hands his boss a coat. As he pulls on the garment, he nods to the door and the men obediently file thorough it, leaving father and son alone.
“I hope you continue to do well with your degree.” The smile Fuyuhiko gives his son is slightly strained, but pleasant enough. “And, please, feel free to call us if you need anything. We are your family, after all.”
And that’s it. Usami Fuyuhiko sweeps out, and Akihiko waits a grand total of two minutes before collapsing full length on the sofa and falling asleep.
God, he really hates his family.
Notes: Aha, you didn't see this change in ordering coming, did you? We've skipped all the way to the centre of the solar system, hence the title of the last chapter. Astrologically, the sun represents the self and its expression, personal power, pride and authority, and the principles of life force - creativity and spontaneity for example. The sun also involves creative enterprises that are a projection of the person, from art to business; the things that let us shine. But never mind all that. The sun is a gas ball the size of 109 earths, with a temperature of around 5,000,000 degrees celsius. This is one big explosion.
The first day he sleeps in until three in the afternoon, and then doses himself with so much coffee he doesn’t get to sleep until seven the next morning. This results in his body clock readjusting itself, and Akihiko settles into living in Tokyo at night. It turns out to be a good idea in part - the summer becomes one of the hottest on record, and sleeping through the worst parts of the day is a good way of dealing with the temperature.
On the other hand, it does leave him sleep-deprived and stroppy if he has to wake up when most people are up and about. So when someone rings the doorbell at eleven o’clock one morning, he’s not pleased.
He’s also not able to sleep through it, unfortunately. The doorbell is a harsh buzzer, and the person on the other side of the door is persistent. Finally he gives up and staggers downstairs, hair mussed madly and pyjamas scrumpled. He wrenches the door open and swears.
It’s his brother, perfectly dressed and perfectly groomed and scowling darkly. He looks Akihiko up and down, and his frown develops a tinge of smirk. Akihiko develops a scowl of his own.
“What?” he snaps, his voice hoarse from sleep.
“Your mother wants you,” says Haruhiko abruptly. No small talk, no greetings.
Akihiko nearly hits the man. “Oh?” he manages, clenching his fists.
“She has been demanding to speak to you since you ran away.”
“I left home,” says Akihiko, “I didn’t run away.”
“I see little difference.”
Akihiko resists the urge to roll his eyes, and tilts his head down so his floppy forelock covers his expression. “Is that all you came to tell me?”
Haruhiko pauses and then steps forward. The movement is so unexpected that Akihiko jumps back, inadvertently allowing his brother to sweep past and enter the apartment proper.
The older man looks around scornfully. Akihiko hasn’t been cleaning the place as well as he should have been - no one has called around for about a fortnight, and he doesn’t tidy up unless there’s someone he wants to impress coming. There are papers scattered across the floor, books piled on every available surface.
“You actually live in this dump?” says Haruhiko.
“Yes, thank you. I quite like it here. ” Akihiko stalks to the kitchen and hammers on the buttons on his coffee machine. They stand in silence as it hums to life and gurgles through the cycle.
As Akihiko hunts out the largest mug he can find, Haruhiko speaks again. “When are you going to come home?”
“I am home.”
“Stop being silly. You know what I mean. Running away like a child isn’t going to solve anything.”
“I happen to think it’s fixed my problems quite nicely.” Akihiko gulps his first mouthful of scalding coffee and bites his tongue to stop himself wincing at the burn. “Anything else?”
“You’re going to make everyone’s life difficult!” snaps Haruhiko, “Especially mine!”
Akihiko tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. They’re both being childish now, but if there was ever anything he missed it was acting like he was five again. “And?”
“Don’t you think you’ve made your point?” says the man eventually, and Akihiko rolls his eyes.
“This isn’t about a point,” he replies.
“Then come back home,” snaps Haruhiko, “Why the hell are you doing this if you admit it’s pointless?”
Akihiko laughs bitterly and turns away, fumbling in one of the kitchen drawers. Ah, perfect! He lights the cigarette with a practised flick of his lighter, and pulls heavily. “I don’t think I could explain it to you, darling brother. If you don’t understand already, then...” He shrugs. “Too bad. But at least I’m not the one stuck with our parents.”
It clearly takes a lot of self-control for Haruhiko not to stamp his foot in frustration. The older man stands very still for a long time and then turns on his heel. He strides out to the door and stops again. “I’ll be telling dad where you are.”
Akihiko allows himself to wince this time.
“And go visit your mother.” And, for once, there’s a chink of angry humanity in Haruhiko’s normally chilly and dutiful attitude. “Before I go deaf, for fuck’s sake.” The door slams behind him, just as Akihiko breaks into quiet, and slightly maniacal, giggles.
He doesn’t bother to go back to the Usami mansion to find his mother. Instead he goes back to bed, sleeps for a few extra hours and leaves the house at midnight.
It takes an hour of bar crawling to find the one Usami Akina is lurking in. Akihiko hears her before he sees her - she’s shrieking with laughter, cackling like a witch. When he finally slips through a crowd of drunk salarymen, he spots his mother clutching the bar with one hand and waving a martini glass with the other. There’s no one near to her at all; she’s laughing madly with herself.
Akihiko takes a deep breath and moves forward, slipping onto the barstool beside her. She glances over and her expression immediately sours. She slams the glass down so hard the bottom chips.
“You.” She snarls, baring her teeth. “So you finally turn up.”
“Only because...” Akihiko momentarily thinks of blaming Haruhiko, but decides that’s unfair. He wouldn’t wish his mother’s wrath on anyone. “Because...”
“You’re as bad as your father,” snaps Akina. “Excuses, excuses. Don’t you remember anything I tell you?” She’s slurring her words, even through her anger. “Remember?”
“You have to tell me what it is I should remember, mother.”
The glass chimes against her teeth as Akina empties the martini down her throat. “I had you to fight back against Fuyuhiko. I wanted to prove I was better than that stupid slut - Haruhiko’s mother. But, no!” The martini glass takes the brunt of her anger as she smashes her hand down. Fragments scatter everywhere, and everyone turns to look as Akina springs up and points at her son. “You did nothing! You were fucking useless! You ran away and abandoned the family, and left Haruhiko to do all the work. And guess what? He fucking did it; better than you could ever do! So you ruined my fucking chance!” She’s swaying on her heels, eyes bloodshot, makeup running; a complete and utter mess. “You ruined everything for me!”
The slap is pathetic, but Akihiko still instinctively cringes from the blow. Akina slaps a handful of notes onto the glass covered counter and storms off. Her son remains sitting, staring at the bar blankly.
Something chinks in front of him. He looks up to see the barman placing a whisky glass down.
“You seem like a man who needs a drink.”
Akihiko says nothing and takes his whisky gratefully.
Late that morning Akihiko arrives home in a taxi, still mostly drunk but verging onto hung-over. It’s a nasty state to be in, and Akihiko’s cursing himself for leaving the house when he staggers out of the elevator and walks straight into a man in a black trench coat.
“What the..?” He stares at the unfamiliar face for a second, wondering if running would be a viable option, before the guy grabs his arm.
“Come along, Akihiko-sama.” He speaks with the same polite tone that Tanaka-san would use, but his words are much more clipped and ruthlessly efficient. Thoroughly confused by his well-mannered kidnapper - thanks in no small amount to his drunkenness - he allows the man to lead him into his own apartment. There are another two trench-coated men standing to attention, and a third sitting on the sofa, sipping a mug of coffee. Of course.
Fuyuhiko lowers the mug and smiles as his youngest son wobbles to a halt. “Akihiko! How nice to see you! It’s been far too long, I feel.”
“Yes...” says Akihiko guardedly. Haruhiko had clearly kept his promise, the miserable git. “Might I ask how the hell you got in here?”
“Language!” smiles Fuyuhiko before explaining. “Some of these gentlemen-” He gestures to the three shifty looking men in black. “-have interesting skills. Not entirely legal, I’m sure, but very useful.”
“You broke into my home?!” This isn’t all that surprising, frankly, and pretty tame by Fuyuhiko’s standards, but Akihiko’s drunk enough to protest anyway. His father develops a put-upon expression and raises his hands innocently.
“Oh, don’t be so upset. If you hadn’t left home, then I wouldn’t have to do this. In fact, if you had made any attempt to contact us then you’d still have a lock on your front door.” Off his son’s irritated expression, he adds, “I will have it replaced.”
“Fantastic,” says Akihiko. His father beckons for him to sit down, but he stays standing. “Now, can I ask why you’ve broken into my home?”
“Isn’t it clear? I wanted to talk to you.” Fuyuhiko sips his coffee again, in an infuriatingly placid expression. “Is a father not allowed to speak to his son?”
“You have another son to talk to.”
For a few minutes there’s a frustrated silence, as Fuyuhiko considers the bottom of his coffee mug. “You are being difficult on purpose, Akihiko. Sit down. You’re swaying, and you stink of alcohol.”
“I was talking to Mother,” replies the young man, but he slumps onto the opposite sofa anyway. Fuyuhiko nods understandingly.
“She did come home early today, in a rather bad mood too. Did you have an argument?”
The look Akihiko gives his father is reptilian; annoyed and arrogant. He cannot remember the last time he spoke to his mother without it ending in a fight. Biting his tongue, he overcomes the urge to inform the other man of this and says, “Yes. You could say that.”
“Oh dear. You should try to get on with her, you know. You might be a good influence on her.” Fuyuhiko pauses and appears to think for a few seconds, considering his none too sober son critically. “Or possibly not...”
One of the be-coated men coughs respectfully. “Fuyuhiko-sama, you have an important meeting in an hour.”
The businessman sighs and tilts his head back to stare at the high ceiling. It’s a pose Akihiko is very familiar with - his father pulls it whenever he wants to say something, but hasn’t quite thought of how to address it. Normally it leads Akihiko getting irritated. He doubts this time will be an exception.
“You’re still studying law?” asks Fuyuhiko.
“Yes. It’s quite easy.” Akihiko rubs his forehead, willing his headache away.
“So, perhaps, you’ll consider joining the company once you’ve gotten the degree?”
Silence. Akihiko doesn’t even bother to look at his father.
“Ah, I see. So, what are you going to do when you’re finished?”
Akihiko shrugs. “I’ll see when I get there.”
Again, one of the other men coughs pointedly, glancing at his watch. Fuyuhiko purses his lips and stands up.
“That is not a helpful attitude. All I want is to have my sons working alongside me, working in the family business. I don’t see what you find so objectionable about this. Your brother is happy enough to do what I ask of him. Why not you?”
Akihiko looks up - it’s the first time he can ever remember his father openly challenging him, and it’s disconcerting - but says nothing. Awkward silence settles onto the penthouse. The other men shift uncomfortably on their feet, clearly not used to the sharpness of the Usami family arguments, while Akihiko and Fuyuhiko stare at each other. Eventually the light gets too much for Akihiko’s throbbing headache, and he glances down, aware that he’s lost again.
“You remind me far too much of your mother.” The older man sounds regretful. “Maybe that’s why. I could never get along with her. She never did anything I asked of her either.”
“I’d noticed,” growls Akihiko darkly. He does not like the implication that he is similar to his mother. Just because he’s slightly drunk and very argumentative... “Please do not compare me to her.”
Hissing out a long breath between his teeth, Fuyuhiko gestures to one of his men, who scurries across and hands his boss a coat. As he pulls on the garment, he nods to the door and the men obediently file thorough it, leaving father and son alone.
“I hope you continue to do well with your degree.” The smile Fuyuhiko gives his son is slightly strained, but pleasant enough. “And, please, feel free to call us if you need anything. We are your family, after all.”
And that’s it. Usami Fuyuhiko sweeps out, and Akihiko waits a grand total of two minutes before collapsing full length on the sofa and falling asleep.
God, he really hates his family.
Notes: Aha, you didn't see this change in ordering coming, did you? We've skipped all the way to the centre of the solar system, hence the title of the last chapter. Astrologically, the sun represents the self and its expression, personal power, pride and authority, and the principles of life force - creativity and spontaneity for example. The sun also involves creative enterprises that are a projection of the person, from art to business; the things that let us shine. But never mind all that. The sun is a gas ball the size of 109 earths, with a temperature of around 5,000,000 degrees celsius. This is one big explosion.