Here is my second fan fiction guys! I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I'm having fun writing it! :D
PS: I DON'T OWN ANY OF AKIRA AMANO'S CHARACTERS. ALL OF THESE ARE JUST FANFICTION! Enjoy.
PROLOGUE
One cold, rainy day, I suddenly saw an ANGEL.
"Yukio-kun!" a female voice echoed throughout the huge Victorian house. "You are going to be late for school!" stomping all the way through the spacious hall. The house was built over thirty years ago, full of relics and antiques even I don't know what era and where it came from. It's a three story house, with complete vicinity: Library, gaming room, secret passages… You name it!
"Coming, Asami!" I yelled back at her, clearly echoing in my vast room. My room consists only of a bed, bookshelves, and a sturdy elegant-looking study table with a white painted wall. I wanted to keep the place as simple as it gets, deviating from the mansion's flowery-over-the-top theme.
"I told you to call me 'Mom' for crying at loud!" she slapped my back hard as soon as she got into my room. Luckily, I was able to hold on to my study table in front of me, reassuring my balance. I rolled my eyes away from her, making sure she didn't see me. Then I noticed a sweet smell. Her perfume, which she rarely used, lingered inside my bedroom. What a nice scent – Peach Blossom. Is that a new scent?
Mom. That's what she wanted me to call her. Truth be told, she was twenty-six years old, working in a research institute for chemistry while I, on the other hand, was on my first level in primary school, under the prestigious school run by her wealthy family.
"Tsk." I glared at her. She glared back. Her innocent oval shape face turned to a scowl; her straight auburn uneven hair falls directly on her shoulders, magnifying her pinkish skin; her natural-colored lips slightly parted while her arms crossed on top of each other in front of her chest, creasing her newly ironed outfit.
I had to admit I was the complete opposite of her. Compared to her, I was basically labeled as a loner whereas she can assemble everyone around her without her noticing. In looks alone, she had a naturally auburn hair and amber eyes while I was born with golden follicles and green lenses which were pretty much of a rare combination. I was tall yet slim for my age. One would not think of me as an elementary student.
Once, I was walking down the road on my way home, drifting into my unorganized thoughts as always. I suddenly bumped into an old woman who was pointing in the direction I came from. I looked back and saw a short man clutching a purse, running as fast as he could. Without thinking much of it, I uttered a word 'wait here' to the old woman and ran toward the thief. Since my legs were long, I was able to catch up to the thief in no time, punched him hard and saw him flying towards the post. Unable to comprehend what I just did, I immediately turned my heel away from the scene – good thing there was no one around to witness it all though. I returned the purse to the old woman and she gave me a light kiss on the cheeks. She smiled, showing me her toothless gums and left. That was her form of thank you, I thought.
"You know," she started, bringing me back to present. Here we go - the 'Morning Scene' as I would like to call it was where I always lose. Knowing that, I automatically averted my eyes away from her. I certainly heard a soft sigh.
"It wouldn't hurt if you prepared your things every night." She said as she helped me pack my things inside my school bag.
"But," I followed, then paused, remembering the first time we had this conversation where it eventually became a ritual before going to school. I stopped to object because I had no chance of winning in any arguments with her. Also, this was going nowhere.
"No buts," she said, closing the zipper attached to the bag.
This woman in front of me isn't really my real mother. My biological parents were unknown and nowhere to be found. I had adoptive parents, though they threw me out in the streets. I had two older brothers. They were old enough to earn money, they claim. As for me, young as I was, I already had a clear view on what my principles were. I just turned five then. Both of my older brothers were good at picking-pockets and swindling tourists. On the other hand, I despised that kind of living. So I started to object my way out. That's when my family cast me out. Since then, I've been alone as long as I can remember. No clean and healthy food to be eaten; no comfortable shelter to call home; no proper clothes to feel warm with. I didn't even remember how many days, weeks, or months I was on the streets. But it became my life.
On regular basis, I collected plastic bottles and tin cans from the sidewalks and streets to sell it for me to get paid. Sometimes, I dig into the trashcans to earn some extras. But still, it wasn't enough. Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of myself looking at the reflection of a muddy river and made me realize how pathetic I was. Somehow that got me motivated to work hard knowing I can only count on myself. Every day I got to build up my self-esteem and tried different jobs. Sadly, young people with my age can't do anything good.
There were also moments where I tried my very best not to gawkily stare at the meat buns on food stalls or even attempted to steal food or money from by-standers. Or the time when I was so thirsty I had to drink water from the dirty river. Luckily enough, there was nothing serious happened to me. But, it was hard. It was so hard to the point of breaking down, crying every night when I can't feed my grumbling stomach and fill the empty, dull, and unfriendly nights where I had no place to stay to comfort me in my excruciating experiences. And the environment I lived in was cruel and unjust, taking away my younger years and forced me to grow up fast mentally.
But one cold, rainy afternoon, as I was sitting in an empty sidewalk taking shelter from the heavy downpour, an angel saw me and took me in. That's when my life completely changed. At first, I thought I was going to be an offering of some sort of occult practice but later it dawned to me that neither of that exist in my new world.
"Let's go, Yukio. You're too slow." She said, scowling. I disliked that expression of hers. It ruined that angelic beauty that I came to like.
"Yes. Yes." I wore my school backpack returning her scowl and went my way out of the door where she was waiting for me; her face was now with a goofy smile.
"Perfect!" she said as she caressed her fingers on my hair. "Seeing your handsome face will keep me going for the day."
I felt a blush on my face. "Don't say that without feeling any embarrassment!" I yelled at her while turning my face away from hers. I held on to my backpack straps tightly as I waited for her well-practiced reply.
"Come on, you're my son. What would I be embarrassed about?"
She loved to tease me. And as always, I couldn't get to answer her question. What am I really embarrassed about? Two years ago, when Asami took me in, she bathed me, changed my clothes, and fed me and neither once did I feel any awkwardness about it. Her family provided me shelter which I was grateful for. She treated me like her real son; treated me like any mother should. Meeting her was the best day of my life though admitting it feels humiliating but we both know our feelings were mutual.
I looked back at her. Her expression didn't change – still smiling goofily.
Minamoto Asami was the only daughter and successor of a rich, powerful, and influential family. Not only that her family background was of high social status, her credentials and standards were of top class. She was also made famous for her piano skills. Her father – my supposed grandfather – was as placid as her though I've only met him quite a few times. But as soon as Asami told him I was to be adopted, he agreed right away. The morning after I was took in; papers were already filed and were sent to the court for approval. As expected of a prominent family nonetheless.
However, there were rumors roaming around the Minamoto Household stating that Asami was a daughter of a mistress, or so they say. She suddenly appeared in the mansion one day: clothes were sewn on top of the other to cover the holes; hair messed up, and had lingering foul smell of decaying food, obviously had not taken a bath with clean water and soap. It was completely and utterly disgusting. The maids in every part of the mansion gossiped that the mistress has gone astray, leaving no traces to find her: only Asami. No one knew what the mistress looked like, but one close look at Asami shut everyone up. Maybe because she had a natural lovely face, the one you want to have. Ever since then, everything turned upside down. The Minamoto Corporation suddenly had a successor on the line and the previous supposed-to-be successor of the said company left in despair, having lost to a child who not even once came to step foot on an educated grounds more or less know how to read or write.
There's a catch, however, of the truth that I came to discover as I grew closer to Minamoto Asami. She was a beggar, just like me. Daughter of a former salary man, her father abandoned her on her own when she was as young as me, due to unpaid debt her mother had left them. Her whole, uncomplicated life was gone in an instant. Young as she was, she was supposed to be sent to the orphanage, however, she ran away thinking she didn't belong there. Being alone on her own in a place unfamiliar to her and on the verge of hunger and desperation, rage and vengeance was the only thing that kept her going. She kept track of the days she lived on the shallow and dirty alleys: exactly three hundred sixty-five days. Then on her three hundred and sixty-sixth day, the owner and CEO of Minamoto Corporation took her in.
"Always the same thing every morning." I mumbled to myself.
"Did you say something?" she asked just in time her mobile phone rang. Whew, that saved me! "Ah! Looks like Kyouya's here." She said as she hastily brought out her phone from her bag.
Hibari Kyouya. Asami's childhood friend and lover, I supposed. Stubborn as they are, neither of them would really tell each other's feelings. We all got tired of waiting.
Leader of the Disciplinary Committee from his previous school and now the Head and Founder of the research institute Asami is working for; Hibari Kyouya ruled the entire city with fear. Also, crowned as the King of Tyrants, no one could ever stand up against him except for Minamoto Asami. Every statement that comes from Asami, Kyouya seemed to take them into consideration.
Once, I heard from Kusakabe-san, Asami and Kyouya were childhood friends. Days after Asami was brought into the mansion, Kyouya was playing in the garden alone. Kyouya saw her and as she was approaching him, he glared at her. It startled Asami and she cried so loud. Everyone in the mansion panicked, not knowing what had caused her sudden outburst. Eventually, Kyouya warmed up to her and became friends.
"We'll be down in a minute, Kyou-kun." She then ended their conversation abruptly giving Kyouya no time to reply. She turned to face me, "He's waiting for us down stairs. I can picture his 'death glare' by now." She made an air quotation mark while shivering then smiled. "Let's hurry."
"Sigh. Every morning." I mumbled again, walking my way to the two-door entrance.
"Good morning, Kyou-kun!" she greeted him gleefully as soon as she stepped out from the house.
Kyouya stood outside his black Mercedes Benz car, both hands crossed on top of each other; his raven hair arranged untidily, both eyebrows meet, and grey eyes glaring from our direction while standing beside him was Kusakabe-san. I was about to come up with an excuse but before I can form a sentence, Asami cut in.
"I'm sorry we're late!" she said to Kyouya with a hint of smile, both hands were placed at the back, her body slightly bended to the right side. It's like she was not sorry at all. She's enjoying this, I thought.
Kyouya's eyebrow twitched. You can clearly see the annoyance on his face.
"Kyouya-niisan, we're leaving without you!" I said as I instantly grabbed Asami's hand into the black Mercedes Benz car.
Asami looked up to see Kyouya outside looking at her. He sighed in resignation and went in the car in the opposite door; Kusakabe-san hurriedly closed the door after him.
"You know, you can do that by yourself." Asami said wryly.
"It's not my choice." Kyouya said, distracted by his own thoughts.
"But you could at least close it by yourself." She insisted.
Kyouya turned silent.
It was these times where I have to brace myself for Asami's nags and demands but Kyouya seems to easily brush her off. I firmly believe it would take a whole day arguing with her, to the point of you giving up the squabble. Probably Kyouya knew that.
"Yukio-kun, I'll wait for you at the main gate during lunch." She turned to me when Kyouya ignored her.
"Eh? What's up?" I asked, confused.
"Father wants to talk to us. You too, Kyou-kun."
Kyouya didn't respond. Instead he closed his eyes.
"Do you know what Father wants to talk about, don't you?"
"Perhaps."
"Why are you being vague about it?"
"I believe your father is the only person who can explain it to you," Kyouya said, slightly turning his head to face her. "In ways you can understand."
She only stared at him for a moment then turned her face towards the window, without saying anything.
And everything that followed was silence.