Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei. I don't even own Ukyou. I got
the title from one of the Black Zodiacs from the movie 13 Ghosts.
Words of a Withering Lover
You were a shy boy then, Kazutaka. I remember the first time we met. You were clutching Veronica tightly and looking at the ground as you were saying your hellos while your mother was always holding you close to her. But for a split second, you looked up and I saw your eyes.
Your sad eyes reminded me of Mother that I wasn't even able to say anything to you that day.
For some strange reason, Father would drop me at your place every week. And so I was forced to speak to you. Maybe it was because I wasn't reserved by nature or maybe it was because I was sick and tired of having to sit down and stare in space.
And so I asked you what you did for fun.
You showed me what your porcelain doll collection. They all looked new but somehow I knew that it was because you took good care of them. And that you took special care of them because you never had any other friend to play with. I suppose my guess was correct when I saw the look on your face when I asked you to play chess or some board game.
I enjoyed my time with you even though I can't have a good game of baseball or soccer with you since you were very poor in sports. Every Saturday, we would play "adventure" games around your family's mansion and a "mystery" game inside it. Even then, you were very smart that it seemed like you could answer every question I threw at you. Even though you had a hard time keeping up with me whenever I ran, I could tell you enjoyed playing with me, ego aside.
But it didn't explain why you seemed like you wanted to cry every time I was to go back home. You would always hold my hand tightly like you didn't want me to go. And I would always ask you what was wrong. But you never did reply to that one question.
One day, by accident, I saw the bruises on your body. Your butler, Mr. Sakaki, was dressing you up with one of those outfits that looked more like a girl's than a boy's. I walked in on you and saw them. I quickly went out and closed the door.
I confronted you later when I had the chance to be alone with you. But you never answered my question, just asked me to not tell anyone else. But really, Kazutaka. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions. I already knew who did it.
It couldn't be an accident. I would know. I've had my share of accidents from falling from a tree to rolling down a hill. The servants could never harm you. And your father was never home. You said so yourself.
It was your mother wasn't it? She looked like an angel but her eyes were... crazy. She never really left us to ourselves. I could see her spying on us through the windows.
When I told you that, you broke down confirming my suspicions and telling me that your father knew of what your mother did to you and even told you to keep quiet about it.
For a moment, I remembered my parents. Their battle for custody. Mom's suicide. Father's remarriage. I realized that you were just like me. We were both hurt by our parents the only difference is that my parents didn't even realize it. It was out of the question to tell my father or stepmother. They wouldn't really care about what happened to others as long as it didn't involve them.
Going to the police or some social service wasn't an option either. The Muraki family was rich. I was still eight years old then but I could tell.
Without thinking it through, I made a promise to you. Maybe it was because I could sympathize with you or maybe because I was trying to be some sort of hero back then. But I promised you I would always be there for you.
We didn't play that day. We merely sat down under the shade of the pine tree and said nothing to each other. When it was time to go, you gave an unreadable expression. For a moment, I didn't know what you were going to do. But you said and did nothing. The uncomfortable silence was nothing like the one we had earlier.
To break the silence and to console you, I told you I'd come back next week. For sure.
With that, you gave me a small smile and nodded.
And so, it became routine for me to go to your house every Saturday. Whether rain or shine, I'd convince my father to take me there. The bruises on your body were still as many as ever. But somehow, you managed to hang in there. I was too optimistic to think that everything will be all right in the end. But I was still a child at heart. Little did I know of the things that would happen in the succeeding years to come. Little did I know of its effects on you and on me.
Words of a Withering Lover
You were a shy boy then, Kazutaka. I remember the first time we met. You were clutching Veronica tightly and looking at the ground as you were saying your hellos while your mother was always holding you close to her. But for a split second, you looked up and I saw your eyes.
Your sad eyes reminded me of Mother that I wasn't even able to say anything to you that day.
For some strange reason, Father would drop me at your place every week. And so I was forced to speak to you. Maybe it was because I wasn't reserved by nature or maybe it was because I was sick and tired of having to sit down and stare in space.
And so I asked you what you did for fun.
You showed me what your porcelain doll collection. They all looked new but somehow I knew that it was because you took good care of them. And that you took special care of them because you never had any other friend to play with. I suppose my guess was correct when I saw the look on your face when I asked you to play chess or some board game.
I enjoyed my time with you even though I can't have a good game of baseball or soccer with you since you were very poor in sports. Every Saturday, we would play "adventure" games around your family's mansion and a "mystery" game inside it. Even then, you were very smart that it seemed like you could answer every question I threw at you. Even though you had a hard time keeping up with me whenever I ran, I could tell you enjoyed playing with me, ego aside.
But it didn't explain why you seemed like you wanted to cry every time I was to go back home. You would always hold my hand tightly like you didn't want me to go. And I would always ask you what was wrong. But you never did reply to that one question.
One day, by accident, I saw the bruises on your body. Your butler, Mr. Sakaki, was dressing you up with one of those outfits that looked more like a girl's than a boy's. I walked in on you and saw them. I quickly went out and closed the door.
I confronted you later when I had the chance to be alone with you. But you never answered my question, just asked me to not tell anyone else. But really, Kazutaka. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions. I already knew who did it.
It couldn't be an accident. I would know. I've had my share of accidents from falling from a tree to rolling down a hill. The servants could never harm you. And your father was never home. You said so yourself.
It was your mother wasn't it? She looked like an angel but her eyes were... crazy. She never really left us to ourselves. I could see her spying on us through the windows.
When I told you that, you broke down confirming my suspicions and telling me that your father knew of what your mother did to you and even told you to keep quiet about it.
For a moment, I remembered my parents. Their battle for custody. Mom's suicide. Father's remarriage. I realized that you were just like me. We were both hurt by our parents the only difference is that my parents didn't even realize it. It was out of the question to tell my father or stepmother. They wouldn't really care about what happened to others as long as it didn't involve them.
Going to the police or some social service wasn't an option either. The Muraki family was rich. I was still eight years old then but I could tell.
Without thinking it through, I made a promise to you. Maybe it was because I could sympathize with you or maybe because I was trying to be some sort of hero back then. But I promised you I would always be there for you.
We didn't play that day. We merely sat down under the shade of the pine tree and said nothing to each other. When it was time to go, you gave an unreadable expression. For a moment, I didn't know what you were going to do. But you said and did nothing. The uncomfortable silence was nothing like the one we had earlier.
To break the silence and to console you, I told you I'd come back next week. For sure.
With that, you gave me a small smile and nodded.
And so, it became routine for me to go to your house every Saturday. Whether rain or shine, I'd convince my father to take me there. The bruises on your body were still as many as ever. But somehow, you managed to hang in there. I was too optimistic to think that everything will be all right in the end. But I was still a child at heart. Little did I know of the things that would happen in the succeeding years to come. Little did I know of its effects on you and on me.