Epsilon Part IIb: Yamada
#16 - Need
He had many disagreements with his father, but none were as frequent as the arguments regarding his hair length. The elder man thought it was barbaric for a male member of the family to have such long hair; it was completely unbecoming and was as if the family could not afford to have their sons’ hair cut on a regular basis.
Yamada, of course, thought otherwise.
After one particularly bad row with his father in which the patriarch swore that he would cut his son’s hair with a pair of garden shears himself if Yamada did not get a shorter cut by the end of the day, the fifteen-year-old furiously strode to the nearby barber’s and demanded that they shave everything off. Since his father so needed - so desired - his hair to be short, why not go the whole way to make sure he was satisfied?
#17 - Vision
After a sleepless night, Yamada dresses before daybreak and quietly slides pre-written notes under his mother’s and Yasuda’s bedroom doors before padding down the stairs in socked feet. He crouches down to put on a pair of sneakers, but while sliding his right foot into one of them, he stops, pulls it out and turns around, making his way into the kitchen instead. When he emerges barely seconds later, the light emanating from the bulb located on the foyer’s high ceiling glints off a sharp blade as he slides the tool into the back pocket of his jeans, then dies as he flips the switch off and exits his home, locking the front door behind him.
Morning comes, and the rest of the family awakes to prepare for the day’s events. The funeral of Sayato Yuuji, distinguished concert pianist, ends up being conducted without his eldest son. At first, disapproving, scandalised murmurs were heard from the crowd, but they were slowly stilled as the guests begin to notice that everything seemed to progress according to tradition even without Yamada’s presence and authority. After all, it would not be proper to upset the already grieving widow any further, and she didn’t appear to be overly disturbed by this matter anyway…
She stays behind at the gravesite after saying goodbye to the last guest and telling Yasuda to take the twins home to rest, waiting for two hours for her son at the entrance, but her eldest still doesn’t arrive even then. Finally, she gets up from the bench with a soft, resigned sigh, turning around for a last look at the grave before she leaves, purse in hand, and her eyes brighten as she suddenly spots a familiar figure standing before it.
Meanwhile, at his father’s grave, Yamada takes out the pair of scissors from his back pocket and raises it behind his neck to cut off his ponytail a few inches above the rubber band holding it together. He gets to his knees, places the tied strands of hair on the ground before the stone and bows all the way down so that his forehead touches the grass, seeing nothing but darkness as his tears fall fast, soaking the ground, and he doesn’t get up even after his mother places a reassuring hand at the back of his head, stroking the short, pageboy cut left behind.
*Yamada’s bow is explained in the sixth paragraph in this link - thanks, Wikipedia!:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_etiquette#Bowing
#18 - Attention
One evening, a smiling Yamada returns home from spending a day at his friend’s house playing with his Persian cat and her new litter of kittens. After heating up a tin of tuna and pouring it into a shallow bowl, he walks outside. His own feline uncurls from her position by the garden and comes to sniff at his ankles, where a few stray long black hairs still stubbornly clung to his jeans.
“Hello, Miko! I’m back! Here’s your dinner…how’s your day been?” he asks, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. She quickly dodges his hand and runs to the hedge, sitting down beside it.
“Miko?”
A pair of malevolent yellow eyes glared back at him, accompanied by dangerously slow swishes of her tail.
“Oh no. I thought I got all of that fur off. You’re angry about this?”
She meows - almost growls - once before she rises and begins to stalk off, tail in the air.
“O-kay! Sheesh, I won’t even think of any other cat other than you, are ‘ya happy?” he says, setting the bowl down to brush all the hairs off. “There. Now will you come eat?”
The cat kept stalking away, finally slipping through a hole in the gate and out of sight.
“Miko! Come back! Your food’s getting cold!”
#19 - Soul
“No way,” his eyes saucer. “No way, man, are you even serious? I can’t take this!” he protests vehemently, both amplitude and pitch of his voice rising with each syllable.
“Yes, you can,” I insist, rolling my eyes bemusedly. “Look, it’s unnecessary, this politeness - dude, we’ve known each other too long.”
He’s pacing now, quick steps back and forth. “But I - this…oh man, it’s - argh! Your father,” he breathes suddenly, dropping back down on the stool so abruptly it lets out an almost obscene snort of air, “your old man, don’t tell me he’s okay with this?”
“I’ve already talked to him. Green light on that end, case closed,” I hiss, yanking on the back of his shirt as he attempts to dash to the back of the store, “don’t even think about going all ballistic on him like you’re doing now, he’s sleeping.”
“But Mabui-san can’t possibly - ”
“Yamada, shut it and just listen to me. He. Said. Yes. Take my word for it and stop acting like you don’t want it -”
“Like hell I don’t want it, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” his head snaps round to admire the instrument then, all hunger and dark lust in his eyes, “… it’s downright gorgeous - ”
“I know.”
“ - it sounds like a dream, it has the best tone of everything I’ve heard this year - ”
“I know, man, it’s all you’ve been talking of since we got it into the sho - ”
“ - but Shouji, I can’t very well just take it, especially not one as rare and expensive as this! After the fire…you all need the income from this more than I need something to play.”
I sigh irritably, running a hand through my hair as he looks away from me. Really, I should have known he’d take it this way - he knows my father’s a stickler for making a profit, and he himself has this ridiculous level of pride...still, he has potential, real potential, and otou-san knows no other customer could take better care of the Pirate as he would, nor play it as often, nor want it as much…
“Look,” I try again. “Music’s always been part of who you are - it’s a piece of you, Yamada. Wouldn’t surprise me if your very soul’s in the shape of a guitar,” I say, and he gives me a weak smile. “Don’t worry about the money, we’re getting some pretty sweet instruments when the next shipment arrives - and come on, that fire was almost a year ago! We’re doing fine (thanks to all your help, by the way), so take it, and put it to good use…otou-san and I, we both know you will.”
There’s less hesitation now as he looks at me. “At least let me pay for half of it,” he says softly. “I know I don’t have enough right now, and I probably - I probably won’t, y’know, for some time…but the minute I get a job over there, I’ll send back what I owe. Every bit of it, I promise you both. Parting present, thank-you gift or whatever - it’s still a ridiculous amount of money.”
“Alright then, have it on your terms,” I reply, grinning at him. “But I’m sure Father’s going to have other ideas…”
#20 - Picture
“Ack! Rando, can you move just a little to the left…er, a bit more, please - ”
“Hello? Oh hey, nee-chan! What’s going on?”
“Is this okay? Man, Yamada, your hair is everywhere! Can’t you tie it back or something?”
“Yeah, this is fine…actually, I think we’d better get ready…”
“Look, I don’t have a band or anything, alright? And besides, this booth is not meant for four people to squish themselves into anyway - ”
“YEARGH!”
“Oh, no - hold on a sec - are you okay? I’m so sorry! Hello? Yeah, I actually can’t chat right now - ”
“ - couples maybe, but not four - we really should have picked a larger one.”
“Guys, there’s only ten seconds left…”
“Akari! Could you stop talking on that thing and start watching where you’re going?”
“What, you serious? Okay then, scoot over here - those two better get things straightened out soon…whoops.”
A cry. “Not again - Yamada, your hair! Hey, I really have to go…”
“Ow, ow, ow! Why do girls have to wear heels anyway?”
“Look who’s talking, your hair’s as long as mine!”
“Maybe you should put some ice on it, Rando.”
“I’m so sorry! No, I don’t think I’ll have dinner at home today…or then again, maybe you should just make extra just in case, I’m not quite sure yet…”
“Yeah…at least the nail seems alright…”
“Three seconds! Yamada, do you have enough room?”
“…I’ll call you back later, okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine…thanks…”
“Whose astounding idea was this anyway?!”
FLASH.
“Great.”
_
“I look like a banshee.”
“Well, we told you to tie that hair back - oh c’mon, half my face?”
“Kimiko doesn’t look too bad though.”
“Of course she doesn’t, coming from you! Seriously though, she’s actually looking at the camera…but hey, she was the one keeping tabs on the timer while all of us were occupied.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m keeping this for laughs.”
A groan. “No way, I look horrible! But it is memorable - T.S.D.’s first purikura.”
“Maybe this should be our album cover.”
“Rando will kill you for that! Speaking of which, we’d better get back to them - I hope he’s feeling better now.”
“Don’t worry, he’s just being a drama queen. Your shoes are fabulous, dahling,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes jokingly.
She laughs. “You’d better believe it, sweetcheeks.”
He had many disagreements with his father, but none were as frequent as the arguments regarding his hair length. The elder man thought it was barbaric for a male member of the family to have such long hair; it was completely unbecoming and was as if the family could not afford to have their sons’ hair cut on a regular basis.
Yamada, of course, thought otherwise.
After one particularly bad row with his father in which the patriarch swore that he would cut his son’s hair with a pair of garden shears himself if Yamada did not get a shorter cut by the end of the day, the fifteen-year-old furiously strode to the nearby barber’s and demanded that they shave everything off. Since his father so needed - so desired - his hair to be short, why not go the whole way to make sure he was satisfied?
#17 - Vision
After a sleepless night, Yamada dresses before daybreak and quietly slides pre-written notes under his mother’s and Yasuda’s bedroom doors before padding down the stairs in socked feet. He crouches down to put on a pair of sneakers, but while sliding his right foot into one of them, he stops, pulls it out and turns around, making his way into the kitchen instead. When he emerges barely seconds later, the light emanating from the bulb located on the foyer’s high ceiling glints off a sharp blade as he slides the tool into the back pocket of his jeans, then dies as he flips the switch off and exits his home, locking the front door behind him.
Morning comes, and the rest of the family awakes to prepare for the day’s events. The funeral of Sayato Yuuji, distinguished concert pianist, ends up being conducted without his eldest son. At first, disapproving, scandalised murmurs were heard from the crowd, but they were slowly stilled as the guests begin to notice that everything seemed to progress according to tradition even without Yamada’s presence and authority. After all, it would not be proper to upset the already grieving widow any further, and she didn’t appear to be overly disturbed by this matter anyway…
She stays behind at the gravesite after saying goodbye to the last guest and telling Yasuda to take the twins home to rest, waiting for two hours for her son at the entrance, but her eldest still doesn’t arrive even then. Finally, she gets up from the bench with a soft, resigned sigh, turning around for a last look at the grave before she leaves, purse in hand, and her eyes brighten as she suddenly spots a familiar figure standing before it.
Meanwhile, at his father’s grave, Yamada takes out the pair of scissors from his back pocket and raises it behind his neck to cut off his ponytail a few inches above the rubber band holding it together. He gets to his knees, places the tied strands of hair on the ground before the stone and bows all the way down so that his forehead touches the grass, seeing nothing but darkness as his tears fall fast, soaking the ground, and he doesn’t get up even after his mother places a reassuring hand at the back of his head, stroking the short, pageboy cut left behind.
*Yamada’s bow is explained in the sixth paragraph in this link - thanks, Wikipedia!:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_etiquette#Bowing
#18 - Attention
One evening, a smiling Yamada returns home from spending a day at his friend’s house playing with his Persian cat and her new litter of kittens. After heating up a tin of tuna and pouring it into a shallow bowl, he walks outside. His own feline uncurls from her position by the garden and comes to sniff at his ankles, where a few stray long black hairs still stubbornly clung to his jeans.
“Hello, Miko! I’m back! Here’s your dinner…how’s your day been?” he asks, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. She quickly dodges his hand and runs to the hedge, sitting down beside it.
“Miko?”
A pair of malevolent yellow eyes glared back at him, accompanied by dangerously slow swishes of her tail.
“Oh no. I thought I got all of that fur off. You’re angry about this?”
She meows - almost growls - once before she rises and begins to stalk off, tail in the air.
“O-kay! Sheesh, I won’t even think of any other cat other than you, are ‘ya happy?” he says, setting the bowl down to brush all the hairs off. “There. Now will you come eat?”
The cat kept stalking away, finally slipping through a hole in the gate and out of sight.
“Miko! Come back! Your food’s getting cold!”
#19 - Soul
“No way,” his eyes saucer. “No way, man, are you even serious? I can’t take this!” he protests vehemently, both amplitude and pitch of his voice rising with each syllable.
“Yes, you can,” I insist, rolling my eyes bemusedly. “Look, it’s unnecessary, this politeness - dude, we’ve known each other too long.”
He’s pacing now, quick steps back and forth. “But I - this…oh man, it’s - argh! Your father,” he breathes suddenly, dropping back down on the stool so abruptly it lets out an almost obscene snort of air, “your old man, don’t tell me he’s okay with this?”
“I’ve already talked to him. Green light on that end, case closed,” I hiss, yanking on the back of his shirt as he attempts to dash to the back of the store, “don’t even think about going all ballistic on him like you’re doing now, he’s sleeping.”
“But Mabui-san can’t possibly - ”
“Yamada, shut it and just listen to me. He. Said. Yes. Take my word for it and stop acting like you don’t want it -”
“Like hell I don’t want it, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…” his head snaps round to admire the instrument then, all hunger and dark lust in his eyes, “… it’s downright gorgeous - ”
“I know.”
“ - it sounds like a dream, it has the best tone of everything I’ve heard this year - ”
“I know, man, it’s all you’ve been talking of since we got it into the sho - ”
“ - but Shouji, I can’t very well just take it, especially not one as rare and expensive as this! After the fire…you all need the income from this more than I need something to play.”
I sigh irritably, running a hand through my hair as he looks away from me. Really, I should have known he’d take it this way - he knows my father’s a stickler for making a profit, and he himself has this ridiculous level of pride...still, he has potential, real potential, and otou-san knows no other customer could take better care of the Pirate as he would, nor play it as often, nor want it as much…
“Look,” I try again. “Music’s always been part of who you are - it’s a piece of you, Yamada. Wouldn’t surprise me if your very soul’s in the shape of a guitar,” I say, and he gives me a weak smile. “Don’t worry about the money, we’re getting some pretty sweet instruments when the next shipment arrives - and come on, that fire was almost a year ago! We’re doing fine (thanks to all your help, by the way), so take it, and put it to good use…otou-san and I, we both know you will.”
There’s less hesitation now as he looks at me. “At least let me pay for half of it,” he says softly. “I know I don’t have enough right now, and I probably - I probably won’t, y’know, for some time…but the minute I get a job over there, I’ll send back what I owe. Every bit of it, I promise you both. Parting present, thank-you gift or whatever - it’s still a ridiculous amount of money.”
“Alright then, have it on your terms,” I reply, grinning at him. “But I’m sure Father’s going to have other ideas…”
#20 - Picture
“Ack! Rando, can you move just a little to the left…er, a bit more, please - ”
“Hello? Oh hey, nee-chan! What’s going on?”
“Is this okay? Man, Yamada, your hair is everywhere! Can’t you tie it back or something?”
“Yeah, this is fine…actually, I think we’d better get ready…”
“Look, I don’t have a band or anything, alright? And besides, this booth is not meant for four people to squish themselves into anyway - ”
“YEARGH!”
“Oh, no - hold on a sec - are you okay? I’m so sorry! Hello? Yeah, I actually can’t chat right now - ”
“ - couples maybe, but not four - we really should have picked a larger one.”
“Guys, there’s only ten seconds left…”
“Akari! Could you stop talking on that thing and start watching where you’re going?”
“What, you serious? Okay then, scoot over here - those two better get things straightened out soon…whoops.”
A cry. “Not again - Yamada, your hair! Hey, I really have to go…”
“Ow, ow, ow! Why do girls have to wear heels anyway?”
“Look who’s talking, your hair’s as long as mine!”
“Maybe you should put some ice on it, Rando.”
“I’m so sorry! No, I don’t think I’ll have dinner at home today…or then again, maybe you should just make extra just in case, I’m not quite sure yet…”
“Yeah…at least the nail seems alright…”
“Three seconds! Yamada, do you have enough room?”
“…I’ll call you back later, okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine…thanks…”
“Whose astounding idea was this anyway?!”
FLASH.
“Great.”
_
“I look like a banshee.”
“Well, we told you to tie that hair back - oh c’mon, half my face?”
“Kimiko doesn’t look too bad though.”
“Of course she doesn’t, coming from you! Seriously though, she’s actually looking at the camera…but hey, she was the one keeping tabs on the timer while all of us were occupied.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I’m keeping this for laughs.”
A groan. “No way, I look horrible! But it is memorable - T.S.D.’s first purikura.”
“Maybe this should be our album cover.”
“Rando will kill you for that! Speaking of which, we’d better get back to them - I hope he’s feeling better now.”
“Don’t worry, he’s just being a drama queen. Your shoes are fabulous, dahling,” he says, fluttering his eyelashes jokingly.
She laughs. “You’d better believe it, sweetcheeks.”