Hi! Hope you find this sad. It's just, I do prefer writing dramas to comedy. So, thanks for reading! Oh, and just so you all know, I'm not writing that American Revolution thing anymore. Too hard. I tried writing it this afternoon, and it was so horrible. I wouldn't even call it writing. So, yeah. Oh, and just so you all know, there are no pairings here. Some people might think it's Yukimura/Akane, but Akane's his little sister. They're just very close friends. Yukimura treats her with brotherly love and respect. Unlike the way I treat my cousin. Enjoy.

The familiar sound of ranting and sobbing filled the air. They had been at it for hours now, Yukimura thought.

"Mitsuko, you-"

"Listen to me for once, will you? Remember when we first met? Remember our wedding day? Do you?"

There was a brief pause, and then Mitsuko's voice filled the chilled air again. Yukimura assumed his father had nodded.

"Remember that night," she continued softly, "when you promised you'd love me for the rest of your life?"

"How could I forget?" Yukimura's father, Tasuke, replied simply.

"And do you remember that night, the night your agent offered you a lead role in a recreation movie? He promised you millions of dollars. Yet you declined, just to be with me." Mitsuko's voice choked on those last four words. "Do you recall that?"

"Yes."

Yukimura's mother told Tasuke, "You gave up so much to be with me back then. You gave up your family, when they didn't approve of our marriage. You gave up many of your friends when they demanded we divorce. You gave up your career as a pilot for me. For our children. For us. And now, Tasuke? What would you give up for me now? Not even a golf game." Mitsuko's voice shook with rage.

"I've given up so much!" Tasuke roared. "What else? Take away my freedom? My life? My happiness?" His voice was fierce. For the first time, Yukimura understood true, emotional fear.

"I thought I was your happiness. Our family. Our love. What happened to that? How does that compare to your golf game?" she snapped.

Yukimura flinched. Never had he heard his mother speak with so much anger, so much pain. He sat down on his bed, holding his tennis racket. He squeezed the handle of the racket so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

"You promised you'd always be there for me. For our children. Where were you then, when Akane fractured her arm yesterday? Where were you when I called you again and again, in a vain attempt to get you to realize the situation at hand? And not just them; what about me?" she continued furiously.

"Mitsuko, I love you as always. That incident with Akane was an accident, nothing more. I didn't hear the ring tone. The guys and I were passing by a dock on our way to the golf game. It was noisy there."

Yukimura pictured his mother gritting her teeth in anger, her hands curling into fists. "I called you twenty three times, Tasuke."

There was a long silence, and then a mumbled reply that Yukimura could not catch.

"No. This has been happening for years now. This will be the last. I can't do this anymore." Mitsuko's words were choked with tears. "You're right. You've given up too much for me. I will give you back what you have lost." Yukimura heard footsteps, the sound of his mother running out of his parents' bedroom. They grew louder, and Yukimura realized his mother was running past his own room and heading to the computer room.

It was where his mother always ran to when she and his father had a fight. It seemed almost routine at this point. It'd been this way for years.

But surely nothing was going to happen.

Yukimura sighed and collapsed on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Pointless fights, he told himself. Pointless fights that meant nothing.

He'd considered telling his friends, his teammates. But they'd had enough of a shock when he ended up in the hospital. He did not want to scare them twice a year. They wouldn't be able to bear it.

Would he?

This was foolish. They'd forgive one another the next day, and everything would be fine again. They'd smile and chat, laugh and dance. This was nothing to worry about. It had happened before.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. "Onii-chan?" a voice called hesitantly. "Onii-chan, are you there?"

Akane.

"Come in," Yukimura replied, plastering a smile on his face. "Akane, what's wrong?"

The little girl's face was streaked with tears, and her light blue eyes promised more to come. Her cast looked damp, and the pictures she drew on it were smudged. Yukimura assumed she had been crying silently while Mother and Father were arguing. "Mom and Dad . . . they-they're . . ." Akane burst into tears again, still standing by the door.

Yukimura's heart broke, seeing his little sister like this. What sort of brother would he be if he couldn't comfort Akane's growing fears?

"It'll be okay," he assured, leading the girl to his bed and placing her on his lap. He smoothed her dark brown hair and looked at Akane with a soft smile. "It's just a small disagreement. It will be over soon. You'll see. They'll make up before tomorrow at dawn. This has happened before."

"So many times!" little Akane wailed, burying her face in Yukimura's shoulder. Her left arm hung awkwardly at her side, so moist and warm, and he realized she had been crying for a while now, probably since the argument started.

He stroked her back in a desperate attempt to quiet her cries. At last she looked up at him with wide blue eyes. "What if they never make up?" she rasped, clutching Yukimura's sleeve with her good arm. "What if they decide to get a divorce? What if we're split up? What if-" Akane began to cry again. "What if I never see you again?" she sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

"So young, yet thinking so far ahead," Yukimura teased gently. "Come now. It's been years. I was only ten back then. If they truly meant to split up, they would've done so much sooner, wouldn't they?"

Akane nodded slowly. "But . . . Mom said this was the last time."

"Mother said that in anger," he replied firmly. "You needn't worry."

"You only see what your eyes want to see."

"Where did you learn that one?" Yukimura asked with amusement. Don't worry, Akane-chan. I will never let us be separated. You're my little sister. Who will I rant to when I lose a match?" he joked.

"You promise?" Akane asked, sniffling.

"Of course. But rest assured; it will never come to that." Eager to distract Akane from her worries, he said, " Say now, isn't it about time for the cartoon marathon?"

"Yes," Akane agreed hesitantly. "But I don't want to go downstairs. What if Mom or Dad . . ." She trailed off.

Yukimura smiled sympathetically. It must be so hard for such a young girl to deal with this, when even he, a fourteen year old, found it difficult?

"Watch it in my room, then." Yukimura gave her a little nudge, and Akane stood up. Yukimura walked to the bookshelf to get the remote control and turned on the television in his bedroom. He sat back down and hoisted Akane back on his lap. "What channel was it?" he asked.

"Seven." Akane's voice was brighter now.

As Yukimura flipped to channel seven, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Akane was very sensitive, despite her impressive effort to seem tough, and the thought of not having either her parents – or her brother – must frighten her.

Sparkly cartoon music filled his ears. Akane watched eagerly while Yukimura thought about what he said.

This was just another one of their parents' petty arguments. A disagreement over something silly. He was right.

He had to be.

It had been two months since that incident. No arguments had surfaced since.

"Onii-chan!" Akane called, knocking on Yukimura's door. "Mom and Dad want to talk to us in the living room."

"Coming!" replied Yukimura, putting down his math textbook. He had a test tomorrow, and he still wasn't so confident around multiple part algebraic equations.

If x equaled nine and three tenths . . .

He opened the door to find Akane already running down the stairs. Her cast was off now; her arm was free, though it still felt somewhat strange to her. He smiled, watching his little sister's brown curls bounce. Her hair had grown long. She'll be taken to the salon soon, he noted absentmindedly.

If y equaled twenty two and three hundredths . . . he continued.

He walked into the living room and murmured a greeting to his parents. They returned the smile tensely.

Akane grinned. "Good morning!" she chirped.

Yukimura smiled down at her.

"Seiichi. Akane."

Said children looked up at their parents.

"We have something to tell you," their father began.

The serious tone in his voice alarmed Yukimura. "What is it?" he asked tersely.

"We . . ."

"Yes?" Yukimura prompted.

"We're getting a divorce," his mother finally finished. "Your father and I."

All four were silent for a moment. The children's parents sat, tense but patient. Akane stood with a blank expression, as though she couldn't absorb the information. Seconds later, the blank look was replaced by one of sheer horror and fear. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, fast and hot. She stared at her parents. "No . . ." she whispered. "This is a dream. This isn't happening."

"We-" her father tried.

She covered her ears with her hands and sobbed, "N-no . . ."

Yukimura kneeled and looked at his sister. "Akane, I-"

"I won't see you again." There was an emotionless tone in her voice. She looked up at her brother gradually. "I won't see you again," she repeated, her face still wet with tears. Finally, she embraced Yukimura and sobbed, "I won't see you again!"

"Yes, you will," he responded fervently. "I won't break my promise to you. We'll stick together." He smiled up at her. "Okay?"

She nodded.

"Go to your room, and we'll talk about it later," he soothed.

Akane nodded again, wiping her eyes with her sleeve and making her way up the stairs.

Yukimura was left alone with his parents.

That shouldn't have been so bad.

But it was.

There was so much he wanted to ask them: Why? How could you? What about me? What about us?

Yet he couldn't bring himself to say those words, to ask those questions. He simply gaped at the two adults in front of him.

Was this really happening?

"We're sorry," his mother attempted.

Yukimura looked away.

You only see what your eyes want to see.

So, did that suck? Or was it at least somewhat legible? I hope you liked it. Thank you for reading. Oh, and my birthday is in two days; May tenth. YAY!