Akashi had lost.
Akashi was free.
To the outside world, it was a victory for all. Akashi had been restored to his old self, Seirin had won, all was well.
But it wasn't.
"Seijuro, I am aware of your loss in the basketball match," said Akashi's father, CEO of Akashi Corporations, one of the most influential men in the world.
The cutlery was the only thing that dared make noise. Akashi set his fork down, looking at his plate of mutilated, yet untouched, dinner. He was quiet for as long as he dared, collecting his thoughts. Hiding his dread, Akashi replied carefully, "Yes father. My humblest apologies, I lost to Seirin in the finals match today. They did a commendable job-"
"Seijuro." His father cut off. "You have tarnished the family name. We are Akashi, we know no loss. What you did today only makes me feel more disgusted when I look at you."
"You are weak, just like your mother. I should have known that even the best upbringing cannot hide the rot in your flesh."
Akashi tensed slightly, disguising how the words shattered him - like he was glass. His father thought he was rot? Akashi had tried his best and vowed to seek revenge for his loss - was that not worth something?
"You are sickening; disgusting. I knew I shouldn't have let you play basketball. Perhaps then the world wouldn't have realised what a failure you are, Seijuro. You're hardly suited for the Akashi name."
The cold words continued like a mental attack assuaging him.
"Dismissed." His father snarled.
Akashi leapt out of his seat, and tried to reach his room without breaking into a run. He shut the door quietly, carefully, and slid to the floor, energy sapped from him.
Stumbling his way to his bed, vision blurring with tears, he clumsily gripped at his blanket, biting into it, before sobbing. This feeling he'd never felt before - a ball in his chest, expanding, pushing everything else aside as it overcame him. His body fell prey to raking silent sobs.
He cried, and cried, and cried until he had no tears left to cry. It must have been hours - it was pitch black out of his window; not a sound could be heard. Dehydrated and exhausted, he stumbled to the door of his private bathroom to get a glass of water. His knees gave way under him, and he fell to the floor. Too shaken to continue, he curled up into the foetal position, back facing the door, as exhaustion pulled him under.
Author's Notes:
This is a edited version of the Chapter 1. Please review, share, follow/fav:)