Finally! Hello everyone. This is the third part of my trilogy, which still doesn't have a name but will have it soon. This part is called 'Forbidden', and I really hope you enjoy it.

Good luck and please I'll be waiting for reviews!

Forbidden.

Prologue.

I'm sleepy. I want to sleep, I've just arrived from my friend's house and I only think about sleeping. I lay on the sofa, my feet on the air, my head on a cushion I found somewhere. It's comfortable, everything's in silence, I can only hear the birds outside, and my father's fingers typing on his laptop, but those sound so distant. He's on another room.

I'm alone with him today. Mom left Naha because she had a meeting with some writers tonight, so she'll be back tomorrow. As I am an only child, I have many advantages when I stay alone with dad. Not that he's the type of dad that will take me to have fun somewhere, but he'll cook for me, he'll let me stay up to the time I want to stay, he may let me drink some alcohol too, during dinner.

I sigh, and stare at the wall beside me. There I can see a poster of a world map. My eyes fly from London to North and South America, Africa, Europe, Australia, South Asia, but… in the end I realize how none of those places catch my attention more than north Asia and the huge country that has been forbidden.

One of my teachers at school explained some day the fact that the forbidden things are the ones which catch your attention the most. That country is the one that I've longed to know since I have memory, and it's not that I know the rest of the countries because in fact, I have only been here in England, I haven't even traveled around my mother country to say that I've visited something.

It's just that curious feeling I can't avoid, each time I stare at that map on the wall. I need to know it, I need to go to Russia and it's a feeling that, I guess, started since my father said a simple word: NO.

How a slight 'No' coming from my father, started this burning fire that I feel inside my chest each time the word 'Russia' is pronounced, is a question I've still got to answer. One of the many questions, that is. I know more about my best friend's family than about my own.

'You have a mother, a father and you're an only child.' That simple, as my father told me. He's a man of no words, he's someone that will keep himself to himself just like my mother. I don't even know when they met, where they met. My classmates, because I'm not sure if I should call them friends, talk about how they parents married, some of them because the girl was pregnant and so they had to get married, some of them because they loved each other, some of them because their grandparents forced them to. Then I know nothing about my grandparents.

My mother's parents are alive, and they also have another son who is my uncle, who's leaving with them. He's five years younger than my mother, who now is thirty-three years old. That means my parents were just teenagers when I was born, she was eighteen and he was nineteen. They were my age.

My eyes close on their own. I don't want to force myself awake, there's no need to stay awake as it's Friday and tomorrow there's no school, I have no homework to do. Bah, who cares about homework anyway?

When I realize I'm drifting into a strange dream of an old train and people hurriedly getting in and out of it, in a station in the middle of nowhere, something pushes me back to reality. It's a telephone ringing.

I sit down and scratch the back of my head. I frown and realize my father is no longer typing, but I can hear the water falling so he must be having a shower. I'm not waiting for any call and he also forbids me to answer any call unless I'm waiting for someone. I walk to the phone, that dream of the train left me thinking something I can't describe clearly.

I stare at the call detector, and analyze the number. I have dedicated as much time as you can't imagine to study everything about the thing that interests me the most: 7-095 … that can only mean one thing. The call is from Russia, exactly Moscow. Suddenly I wonder what will happen if I answer. No one told me I can't answer the calls from that country, I guess my father never thought he would get a call from that country…

I grab the tube, but I don't pick it up until it rings for a third time. Someone there might be in danger, someone there might need help… a Russian, is waiting for someone in this house to pick up the phone and say…

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Hiwatari family? It's you Kai? You still remember me, right?" too many words for my confused mind. I dump the phone down where it was before and try to calm my breathing. It's faster than ever and I know I'm scared, I'm too damn scared. Scared. About a caller? About someone who's far away from me and can't do me any harm?

I slap my own face. 'You had the opportunity to talk with a Russian or at least with someone calling from Russia, something you've longed for years and you're scared and lost the opportunity?!' my mind shouts.

And it's when I'm about slapping myself for the second time when the phone rings again. I gasp and my heart starts beating faster than before. But I have no time to doubt it, or the caller will stop dialing our number. I pick up the phone and answer.

"Yeah?"

"Kai Hiwatari, are you?" this time the speaker is using Russian to talk to me. But I have no problem with that, I am self-taught with the language and I manage pretty well.

"…nyet." I have to say the truth. If they're looking for my father, then I'll let them talk to him.

"Please, I want to talk to Kai Hiwatari." He keeps talking in Russian, he sounds surprised that I'm not my dad but I still have the language. The voice is kinda rude, it must be someone who knows my dad because he insists on talking to him as if he had to tell him something very important.

"He's not available in this mo-" a heavy hand on my shoulder stops my sentence, stops my breath and my heart beating. I know who's hand is, and right now there is nothing else that can get me more scared… than my father finding out I've talked to a Russian.

"Gou Alexander Hiwatari, hand me the phone and go to your room." He doesn't have to specify he is mad at me, and he wants no answer from me. I walk away, but I always keep my head up, no matter how hard my dad can be at me. I hear him talk in Russian for the first time in my life. That sound is stronger than any words he may have said to me, I stop as I turn round the corner and listen carefully. In seven hells I would lose this.

"Da?" … "What do you need?" …"No. That can't be true. This can't be happening." …. "Okay… okay the flight takes some hours but I'll be there as soon as possible."… "Yeah thank me when I get there… Please tell her to hold on… tell her to hold on…"

My dad's face changed radically during the conversation. And I can swear I never saw him so scared.

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mikaera.