[Yami no Matsuei] "Mother's Intuition" (PG)
Author's Note: Written for any, any "Mothers are all slightly insane" - J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye. Set pre-series.
Yukiko Muraki had been told by her husband's colleagues that it was normal for a man of his profession to spend days on end working on shift, and given his rank as chief surgeon at the clinic which his family owned, his responsibilities kept him in the city. When he had been courting her, during those first few months she had lived in his house, he had cut back the hours that he worked. But now that they were married and she had, after several miscarriages, given him a healthy if fragile son, he had suddenly turned distant, though she noticed it had started about the time they had conceived Kazutaka. He barely seemed to acknowledge that the child existed, much less that it was his son. The child was six now, and he'd barely seen his own father more than a handful of days out of those six years.
At least the boy had his grandfather, but she limited how much time they spent with the old man: the way that he looked at her made her think of a scientist scrutinizing something under a microscope.
Even still, she had to know why her husband had grown so distant toward her: if there was anyone who knew, it was her husband's father. And so she swallowed her pride and, with her son in tow, she went to consult him.
"How can I put this?" Yukitaka Muraki said, taking off his eyeglasses as he leaned back in his chair, as they sat sequestered in his study, she sitting opposite him on a sofa, her son snoozing by her side, his head in her lap while she caressed his silky hair. "Your husband was always given to, shall we call them, extracurricular activities?"
Yukiko frowned, not liking the pitch of the old man's voice. "What do you mean?" she asked, her hand slowing on the boy's head.
Yukitaka tented his hands in front of him, elbows resting on the arms of his chair. "You aren't the only woman in his life: you never were, not when we first found you, and not even when he was courting you. He has another son by another woman, a child that was born the very morning that preceded the night you gave birth to Kazutaka."
Her hand on her son's hair stopped moving and she gripped the boy's head hard enough to feel his skull. He stirred a bit, emitting a querulous whimper. "That can't be."
Yukitaka spread his hands, emitting an almost helpless sigh. "I wish it hadn't happened this way," he said. "If the damn fool takes it into his head to take his illegitimate son into his home and acknowledge the boy as his, it will make things tricky when it comes to the inheritance. Fortunately, he hasn't, but he has been spending a good deal of time with the child and his mother."
"He should be with me and with *our* son," she snarled. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"I've warned him time and again that he couldn't continue to live the way he did before he took you in, and that he had to stop philandering with his own patients, otherwise something like this was bound to happen. But he always had a mind of his own," Yukitaka replied, tiredly.
"Then I pray that child never comes into this house: if he does, I will do what is necessary to protect what is mine," Yukiko snarled, drawing Kazutaka into her arms, gripping him hard enough at the boy finally awakened.
"Mother, is something wrong?" he asked, sleepily, trying to rub his eyes, but her grip had his arm pinned.
"No, child, we're just going home now," she said, turning and leaving the room a bit too quickly...
Yukiko Muraki had been told by her husband's colleagues that it was normal for a man of his profession to spend days on end working on shift, and given his rank as chief surgeon at the clinic which his family owned, his responsibilities kept him in the city. When he had been courting her, during those first few months she had lived in his house, he had cut back the hours that he worked. But now that they were married and she had, after several miscarriages, given him a healthy if fragile son, he had suddenly turned distant, though she noticed it had started about the time they had conceived Kazutaka. He barely seemed to acknowledge that the child existed, much less that it was his son. The child was six now, and he'd barely seen his own father more than a handful of days out of those six years.
At least the boy had his grandfather, but she limited how much time they spent with the old man: the way that he looked at her made her think of a scientist scrutinizing something under a microscope.
Even still, she had to know why her husband had grown so distant toward her: if there was anyone who knew, it was her husband's father. And so she swallowed her pride and, with her son in tow, she went to consult him.
"How can I put this?" Yukitaka Muraki said, taking off his eyeglasses as he leaned back in his chair, as they sat sequestered in his study, she sitting opposite him on a sofa, her son snoozing by her side, his head in her lap while she caressed his silky hair. "Your husband was always given to, shall we call them, extracurricular activities?"
Yukiko frowned, not liking the pitch of the old man's voice. "What do you mean?" she asked, her hand slowing on the boy's head.
Yukitaka tented his hands in front of him, elbows resting on the arms of his chair. "You aren't the only woman in his life: you never were, not when we first found you, and not even when he was courting you. He has another son by another woman, a child that was born the very morning that preceded the night you gave birth to Kazutaka."
Her hand on her son's hair stopped moving and she gripped the boy's head hard enough to feel his skull. He stirred a bit, emitting a querulous whimper. "That can't be."
Yukitaka spread his hands, emitting an almost helpless sigh. "I wish it hadn't happened this way," he said. "If the damn fool takes it into his head to take his illegitimate son into his home and acknowledge the boy as his, it will make things tricky when it comes to the inheritance. Fortunately, he hasn't, but he has been spending a good deal of time with the child and his mother."
"He should be with me and with *our* son," she snarled. "Why didn't you stop him?"
"I've warned him time and again that he couldn't continue to live the way he did before he took you in, and that he had to stop philandering with his own patients, otherwise something like this was bound to happen. But he always had a mind of his own," Yukitaka replied, tiredly.
"Then I pray that child never comes into this house: if he does, I will do what is necessary to protect what is mine," Yukiko snarled, drawing Kazutaka into her arms, gripping him hard enough at the boy finally awakened.
"Mother, is something wrong?" he asked, sleepily, trying to rub his eyes, but her grip had his arm pinned.
"No, child, we're just going home now," she said, turning and leaving the room a bit too quickly...