Iori Family Shame
Summary: After a fun afternoon out, Junpei and Minako confront a drunk on the train.
In between slurps of Hakagure, Junpei tried asking, "So, which boy is on your mind this time?" Minako cringed as part of his ramen soup sailed from Junpei's mouth to her face. Not petty enough to make anything out of it, she wiped her cheek with her sleeve and addressed the question at hand.
"Aki is so cute. But so is Shinji. But I can't go after both because they'd totally tell each other, so I'm at a loss right now." Minako would be slurping on what's left of her ramen, but Junpei already stole the bowl from her end of the table and went through the speedy process of downing it. This monster gobbling through all of her food was her best friend, and thus she tried her best to keep romantic thoughts of him far from her head, but man. That boy could eat. His girlfriend is going to be one happy lady.
"Dude, go after Shinji. Akihiko-senpai already has 20 girls on his tail. Shinji is your best bet." Pulling his head back from the mass destruction of two ramen bowls, Junpei let out a burp rivalling the school bell. They shared a laugh, Junpei paid for the meal, and duo walked to the balcony of the strip mall, overlooking Iwatodai station. Minako recounted Bunkichi downstairs, and the spot at the bottom of the station where she saved Yukari from the underdressed wallet bandits. Side by side, they meandered down to the bottom floor, waving to the old couple inside Bookworms. The geriatric couple called them in for a short minute, and Junpei left the store holding four rolls of melon bread, two for each of them.
They shared some more gossip on the way to the train, and joined the pack of students occupying the middle of the train. However, instead of a warm welcome from the other students, Junpei and Minako joined the can of sardines looking down to the next train.
The train doors opened. Alcoholic aroma seemed to follow. Barely dressed, a middle-aged man in a wife-beater sauntered through the train, screaming profanity. "Fucking. A. Fuck Gekkoukan kids!" The work boot of the monster almost flew off as he kicked in their general direction.
"Iori…?" One of the students whispered. Junpei couldn't evade this one. His father's work shirt, tied around his huge gullet, read "IORI." His darker complexion and chestnut hair called Junpei's, asking for a scene. Begging for action. Lusting for a fight.
Tugging on his sleeve, Minako whispered maternally to Junpei, "Let's go." She knew, of course. Bruises from Tartarus were very distinct, because they were bruises to kill. The purple ones that littered his sides, hugged his torso, painted his legs, those were bruises to hurt. To break. To cause suffering.
Junpei might have the exterior of SuperMan, but inside, he was the same beaten child that his mother would remember if she was still alive. In her dying moments, she thought that maybe the extra responsibility would push Iori into becoming a good father. But she knew differently. Junpei knew differently. As Iori clambered down the train, the small space between the group of students and the raging drunk closed. He threw out more drunk-fu kicks, and mimicked the tossing of a bottle towards one of the younger kids.
'That's the student council treasurer,' Junpei concluded. Iori's eyes turned from a drunk stupor into the eyes of a predator, and the monster began ramping up his speed. What was her name? "Not Fushimi," one of the other sheep whispered as the wolf came to take her away.
Minako tugged on Junpei's sleeve, begging him to walk away. Let anybody else handle this. Just call the security, and it will be better than if he intervenes. The whimpering, beaten child sitting inside of Junpei's soul hardened. Hermes was ready.
Ripping away from her grip, Junpei announced to the train, "Dad, stay the hell away!" All the commuters who wanted a simple ride home from work tried to pry their eyes away, but family drama was juicy gossip. The train's onlookers bore witness as matador Junpei whisked the bull away from his original target.
"Go home, dad. Quit being a goddamn brat." Iori would have accepted the first swear, but two? In his house? It didn't matter whether or not the train was his house, because the world was Iori's plaything. He owned it, as far as he was concerned, just as he owned Junpei. "You leave home and now you curse at your old man? What kind of kid are you?" Just like it would have been at home, Iori rushed towards Junpei to leave bruises. His usual weapon of beer bottles were absent, so he balled his fat fists up and tried to drop them down on Junpei.
After waving around real swords the past few months, Junpei was more than capable of taking down an obese drunk. Iori ran, as if he was trained by TV wrestling, towards Junpei, who responded by gently leading his stride into the train door. A loud crash ensued. Enraged, Iori refused to hear Junpei's pleas of "Dad, please stop," and forced himself up. Junpei pinned his beast of a father against the door, doing his damnedest to stop him from hurting anyone before police arrived. In exchange, Iori pummeled Junpei's face and upper body. His father tried punching hole through him, each injury throbbing harder with every punch.
The Gekkoukan kids stayed still, watching the punishment. Some began to record the event, other called for help.
But nobody stepped in as Iori rearranged Junpei's face.
As the adrenaline dulled the pain, each fist to his body rocked his brain to and fro. Junpei began to cry. Hard. Junpei never cried before. He thought a man never cries, a man doesn't seek help, and man doesn't need to endure. But Junpei endured. And Junpei cried. And Minako brought the police officer to the car.
Junpei's face was painted crimson, his nose profusely bleeding and pointing mysteriously to the left. His silent tears joined the concoction, and Junpei felt a wave of shame wash over him. Shame for showing his pain to the world, for airing his family matters to school, shame shame shame. The policeman pried the two apart and began talking. Minako became a Junpei whisperer, and the duo worked together to file the police report as the rabid handcuffed dog snarled at the crowd. He was surprised when Minako stopped talking.
"C'mon, answer him. Do you want to press charges?"
Every bruise was the story of Iori's alcoholism. Every pain in the chest reminded him of his mother. The tears poured down, painting Junpei with shame as his school watched.
"Son, you stopped a drunk man from assaulting a high school girl, and didn't stoop down to his level. In my eyes, you're a hero."
Fushimi spoke softly behind the officer. "My hero, mhmm."
Suddenly, the tears changed tune. Instead of gripping his vocal chords and choking him out, they sang out for him. Junpei realized he faced his father. Without stooping down to his level.
And the crying child became a crying man, cleansed by his tears.