CHAPTER TWO

My walk home was anything but pleasant. Everyone else was perfectly comfortable in jeans and t-shirts or shorts. And I couldn't help but wonder. I felt my stomach clench as I realized someone was staring; I did not look up to see who. I just wrapped my coat tighter and walked faster, just wanting to go home to the privacy of my room to sleep.

It was cold; always cold. I greeted my mother, and was about to go upstairs when she stopped me. "Suichi dear," she smiles, "Aren't you going to say hello?" I look at the 40-something year old man and fake a smile , "Good evening, Hatanaka-San." He nods to me and I go upstairs; my door is open.

"Kokoda," I'm surprised at the anger in my voice, as is my step brother. He turns, eyes wide and I look to see what he has in his hand; my heart skips. "Put it down," I whisper, my voice cold, anger seeping from my pores. It is a leather bound journal. Careful charts and lists, recipes, frantic ramblings... He closes it, putting it back in my open dresser, and doesn't move. He's either ashamed or afraid. I don't care. "Get out." He runs by me, and I immediately go to my nightstand, roughly grabbing a small vial. I have to edit his memory.

Relief consumes me as I watch how easily he consumes the plants I've mixed into his salad; to me, there is a distinct smell. Thank god humans don't have sensitive noses. "Suichi dear," my mother puts her hand over mine, her skin warm and smooth as always, "Are you alright? Or do you not like the roast?" I try to smile at her; I'm not sure if it works, "I'm afraid it is not my favourite of meals mother. Excuse me please; I need some pepper." I stand and go into the kitchen, pausing to make sure no one moves as I let the door swing shut.

Carefully, I tilt the plate into the trashcan beneath the sink, letting over half my dinner fall in. I add green spices, move things around so the illusion of more food is placed. I sigh; They won't notice unless they look for it.

I couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning, I wrapped a quilt around my body, not bothering to wonder why it was so damned cold, and went into the den where I knew my mother would be reading. "Mama," I whispered. Shock went in to a part of my brain; I'd never called her that, or any silly baby name. But she didn't seem to care; she looked up from her book and gave me a warm smile, putting her attention on me for the moment.

"Mother, it's cold," I whispered, feeling foolish, "May I sit with you?" She looked at me the way I knew she would; the smile that showed how happy she was to have me a bit less standoffish. Having such an independent child followed by a needy teenager must be strange, though she hasn't complained. I yawn, wrapping my arm through hers and resting my head on her shoulder, glancing at the book but not taking in any of the words. Selfish, but I missed these little moments where it was just us. She has another son to dote on. Do I fear being forgotten?

Inwardly, I flinch. When did I get so selfish? Do I come across as such a bastard to others, or is it just me? The critical side of me does nothing But scold and yell and berate day in and day out, back again, and this time, I don't try to silence it.

Morning comes. I didn't sleep. I was up reading completely pointless books for my English class. The finals are coming up. I'm not stressed about it; I learned most of it along time ago. "Suichi?" I glare; a man's voice. Without waiting for a response, Kazuya opens the door with a smile, "Your mother wants me to tell you it's time for breakfast." The door clicks shut.

Carefully, I set the meal. I take a bite for ten they take. I push the rice around on my plate, avoiding the Miso soup. I stand, kissing mothers cheek and ruffling Kokoda's hair before walking out the door. They didn't notice I hadn't said more than four words.

I take a deep breath, feel my stomach. Everything is fine.