Bunbetsu to Takan
Mihane
It was inevitable, really, that I would join that family. Sure, I'd fought hard against it – refusing to see them, running away once or twice, filing complaints: the sort of stuff you resort to when you've hit rock bottom. But, let's be realistic, you can never win against these rich folk, can you? It was never a matter of 'if' they were going to adopt me, but 'when.' And that 'when' came on the day after my fifteenth birthday, when the final papers were signed and I found myself no longer a Takei, but a Hitachiin. It was then that I met my uncle for the first time.
I wanted to punch him in the face. That was it really, for all the angst I harboured, just one clean left hook would've been enough. It's not that I was a violent person, there was just something about him: corporate giant, dressed head-to-toe in Armani, had all the sensibilities of your typical, upper class weed and yet, he was so unbelievably...ordinary. A plain bastard with a condescending smile. It made me want to break something.
"Hello, Mihane-chan," He was one of those awkward, straight-laced types; the kind of person who feels that the best way to get to know someone is to patronise them. "I'm your guardian, Hiroki; I know that living with me and my family wasn't, well, the outcome you desired, but..." Guardian? Outcome I desired? Fuck you, I thought to myself, it pissed me off how edgy he was sounding. Like he wasn't actually talking to me, but reciting some pre prepared script instead. He was being too careful, trying to avoid certain topics, worried that he might say something on accident and hurt me. Stupid fucker should've known that he couldn't lay a finger on me even if he wanted to. I took one last look at the institute as the boring man finished his boring speech; I should've had some sort of profound thought here, something like: 'farewell to my days of freedom.' But, I didn't, I don't think I cared anymore – leaving the institute was simply moving from one hard place to another. Just like when I first came here.
Uncle Hiroki, my guardian, carried my luggage to the Rolls Royce (seriously?) and I followed suit, sinking into the ivory leather seats. So this is who I was now, I thought, someone who drives around in luxury cars and has the personality of a wooden plank.
Hiroki
I'd tried to be friendly with her, and when friendly didn't work, I tried formal. Either way, my niece wore a scowl which could suck lemons dry. I'm not new to antisocial children; my own two sons basically spent the majority of their life isolating themselves from the rest of the world, parents included. However, when I saw Mihane's dissatisfied face, I shuddered a little. I could just see what her father must've told her about me: 'that's Hiroki, your no-good uncle who became rich and left the rest of your family to roll around in poverty. People like him are the scum of the earth.' He was always like that when I refused to lend him money, calling me a cold hearted bastard, the shame of the family. It was thanks to him that I couldn't even see my own niece until now, when she was fifteen years old. And by that time, he'd already made sure that she loathed me one hundred percent. Getting in the car, I soon realised that I had no idea what to talk about – my brother and his wife were, of course, a no-go; I got the feeling she wouldn't be too interested in hearing about my work either. I suppose I could've picked something generic, like: 'what would you like to be when you grow up?' But there wasn't much I could drag out of a conversation like that aside from: 'oh, that's nice' or 'so what qualifications would you need?' In the end, I wound up talking about my family, my sons in particular. After all, they were only a year older than her and children like to hear about other children, right?
Mihane
Jesus, this man could bore for purgatory. It was barely a half hour drive from the institute to my new home and, whilst at first I was pleasantly enjoying the awkward silence, in which I could close my eyes and pretend that I was as far away as possible, my peace was soon disrupted when uncle Hiroki, probably misreading my disinterest as shyness, began rattling on about his family, his twin sons in particular. 'Hikaru' and 'Kaoru' were their names and, apparently, they were 'brilliant boys' with a 'natural flare for all things creative' and I was going to 'simply adore them.' Fucking hell, was my response, how far up someone's arse can you be? I'd never really been fond of cars to begin with: the idea of being trapped inside a block of metal had me gagging, that and the mind numbingly turgid conversation made me, when we finally reached 'home' (I was sceptical that we'd be living in a house as such), unable to get out fast enough.
Scrambling up the driveway, I found myself greeted by, well, a castle. To your average middle class scum, this probably sounds like a gross exaggeration; however, I was raised in a block of flats, eleven storeys high and it seemed that the front lawn alone could encompass ten of those.
"Nice, isn't it?" Said Uncle Hiroki, looming behind me. Creep. "See that turret over there?" It was hard not to miss what he was describing; the 'turret,' if you could call it that, was an ugly, triangular structure which stuck out at odds with the rest of the building. "That's where your room is. We thought it'd be for the best because it's, well, fairytale-esque isn't it? Girls like that sort of thing." I had to question whether he really meant that or not – surely no one could genuinely believe such stereotypical bullshit? It was out of the way though, which was a good thing. I'd grown to hate having to live in close proximity to other people.
Akari
"Welcome, Miss Mihane!" As far as greetings went, it was pretty basic, but just to get all three hundred of us to say it in perfect unison took three weeks. Then, on top of that, there were all of the decorations to sort out: Yuzuha-sama had practically bought out the entire flower industry – over a thousand white lilies, six hundred pink orchids and two hundred roses in cerulean. When she found out that cerulean roses did not exist, she bought two hundred white roses and half of us servants wound up with dottled thumbs trying to dye each and every one of them. Then there was the agony of the tea sets, six different types of nineteenth century, English antiques were imported and, when they finally decided on which set to use, the remaining five were pawned off as freebies to random servants. The finest silk robes were dug out and put on display and then, when Hikaru-sama and Kaoru-sama's friends caught wind of what was going on, there were offers from numerous large companies, asking to endorse this 'welcome party' by taking charge of the catering or providing manual labour. There were even mentions of a documentary being filmed. Eventually, however, as the day drew closer, Yuzuha-sama put her foot down and what would've been a gigantic parade stretching across Tokyo, became a relatively low-key, for the Hitachiins at least, event where the guest list extended only to family and close friends.
Ever since the idea of throwing a party came around, I couldn't stop myself from picturing Miss Mihane's reaction. Imagine if it was you: a rather ordinary girl, entering her new home for the first time only to be bombarded with flowers and three hundred people shouting 'Welcome, Miss Mihane!' What if she was allergic to pollen? I'm not, but even so I'd be absolutely mortified if I was her. In all honesty, I couldn't see this ending well; however, as one of the maids here (and a part timer at that), it wasn't really my place to say anything.
"Ssh! She's here!" Hikaru-sama and Kaoru-sama had been keeping look out and had recognised their father's Rolls Royce pulling into the driveway. Apparently, she'd refused to see any of the Hitachiin family members when they came to visit her at the institute and they had not been able to gather any photos of her from the past year or so. "In essence, they have no idea what she looks like," was how Hideo, one of Hiroki-sama's private butlers, had summed it up.
There was a last minute scramble for positions: Hikaru-sama, Kaoru-sama and Yuzuha-sama at the very front with the other family members and guests behind. All of the servants forming a semi circle around the edge, herding everyone together. I just knew that this image would end up as our Christmas card for the next three years.
The door opened to reveal Hiroki-sama and a young lady who looked more seventeen than fifteen.
Kaoru
Her legs. They were the first thing I noticed about her. Well, her shoes to be precise: the middle of summer and she was wearing beaten down, khaki converse. I then allowed my gaze to work its way up her body: her slender ankles, from which the rest of her legs seemed to taper – long and straight, the colour of clotted cream. Her hips followed suit, you could see her pelvis protruding out of her low slung shorts – the skin around that area was taut, a smattering of peach fuzz drifting across her milky white navel and disappearing into the gauze of her tank top. Smooth torso, breasts, collar bones which seemed to pierce her skin and a long, soft neck. I then reached her jaw line and paused for a moment, trying to will myself to concentrate as hard as possible – I was about to see the face of my new sister. It had to be burned into my mind. A pixie like jaw line, rather angular although it smoothed out at the chin. Full lips, cranberry pink (probably make up); she had a wide mouth which, when she spoke, gave way to reveal a set of pearl white teeth. Straight nose, high cheek bones and her eyes were like glass; within them, I could see my own reflection, somewhat distorted. She looked from me to Hikaru and then back again; it wasn't that her stare had some sort of allure to it: I didn't feel it pierce through my soul or anything. Rather, there was nothing to it at all. She looked at me and then looked away, simple as.
Mihane
Hikaru and Kaoru, huh? One look was all it took for me: this need to break something which I'd been suppressing for so long suddenly took to the forefront of my mind. It was already there, I hadn't said a single word to them and yet I knew, with every fibre of my being, what I wanted to do. I was going to tear them to pieces.
Hikaru
She looked at Kaoru, then at me and her face broke into a smile. It still gives me chills, that smile. I thought I'd scream whenever I saw it. It looked as if her face was about to split in half.
A/N: Please review, because it's been years since I've written a fic. Sorry about the shortness of the last two POVs, I got lazy~ Also, the title 'Bunbetsu to Takan' was taken from Sakurada Hina's manga with the same name, the plots aren't that similar but it reminded me of this fic idea. It literally translates as 'sense and sensibility,' I think.