Author Notes: He he, minor mistake on story properties. Corrected.

I'm not totally confident in my ability to write this well, but I'm going to try it anyways. This chapter is mainly set-up for the protagonist, to explain how he gets in the situations of the story, so please bear with me. It is also written in first person because I believe it sounds better for it, but a majority of this story will be third person.

This chapter has undergone my refining process

I really don't want to be here right now.

If you'd told me earlier to today that something unusual would happen, I'd probably have shrugged it off If you'd also told me that this something would have changed my life forever, I'd have called you crazy. And, if you'd topped it off by telling me I'd be having this man stare me right in the face... well, at that point I'd probably have started backing away slowly.

But listen to me, rambling on. Maybe I'm just trying to avoid the inevitable. This whole situation is just... well, stressful. So, here I am, sitting in front of my father's lawyer, Tass Johnson. I couldn't come up with a more plain room if I tried; beige paint, one wall lined with dusty bookshelves that look like they haven't been touched in years, no window, and just a wooden table and a few office chairs as furniture. However, I found myself trying as hard as I could to focus on these things because the man across from me was ... well, he was flat-out scary. Everything about him is sharp; gaunt cheeks, hooked nose, spotless black suit, pixie cut hair... and his eyes, cold, piercing blue, looking straight into my soul. "I must say, Mr. Deikmann, I had hoped to be seeing you under better circumstances." he spoke, his voice like a sharpening knife. " The news of your father's death has shaken me quite deeply."

I wished I could carry myself with the confidence he did right now, all prim and proper, but I just couldn't pull it off. In fact, Everything was just swimming around in my head these past few hours, managing to force myself into this room but little less.. My dishwater blond hair was still matted and scraggly from soccer earlier, the bangs hanging down just into my field of vision. I hadn't bothered to shave this morning, so the stubble was itching away at my chin. Heck, I could even smell my nervousness, seeping out of my pits like a foul illness. But I could have dealt with that, all of it, if I didn't have to deal with HIM. It was all I could do not to start shaking under his stern gaze, my lips locked tight as I tried to keep calm.

"Be that as it may, we do have a few issues to discuss," Tass popped open the briefcase on the table in front of him, polished black leather." Outstanding debts, assorted legal documents, fiscal transfers and all that," he mussed as he flipped through the files, not slouching in inch. "Most of these I can take care of myself, but as his next of kin I'll need you to sign off on a few of these." papers were piled and shuffled by his expert hands, me just watching dumbly, trying to grab onto his words . To be honest, I'm not quite sure exactly what most of this stuff was, and until he reached bottom I really couldn't even bring myself to look up, for fear of making eye contact and freezing up. Then, though, something amazing happened. Out of the corner of my downturned eye, I spoted a change in his face, from confident, emotionless business to a somewhat confused look, eyebrows arching as he pulled out what appeared to be an old VHS tape, turning it about in his hands as if to check it.

"Ah yes," he stated, almost to himself, after a moment. "I remember you now." Our eyes met again, mine flinching back before, with a deep breath, I felt the stifling professionalism drop. There was nothing but silence in the room, him trying to read me and me slowly taking hold of myself, until he took in a deep breath, setting it down and placing his chin into his hands, propping himself onto the table.

"Excuse me sir," I chime in, stuttering a bit as I felt him turn back to me, a bit of his intimidating aura returning. For once, though, I was glad that I had a generally expressive voice; when I was stressing out like that, I never sounded quite as uneased as actually was. "I'm still feeling a little... overwhelmed by all of this," I started shifting about in my chair. "Could we just get on with this?"

"Yes, Mr. Deikmann." He gestured back down, me finding myself obeying his suggestion without pause, settling my back into my former position. "I believe I have the documentation somewhere..." he mumbled under his breath as he shifted through the files, my foot tapping nervously. Could he just hurry up already? Eventually though, he settled on one, pulling it out and curtly nodding to himself. "And I quote "In the event of my demise, the video in question is to be shown to my son, Drake P. Deikmann, and only him." unqoute." Mr. Johnson settled the paper back into the case, placing the tape into my hand. "Now" he slid another pile of paper forward as I placed the tape into my lap, the plastic seemingly warm. "If I could just get your signature as his next of kin."

I didn't really think much about what I did that evening. All I had wanted to do was get out of there, my mind struggling to grab onto the simplest of facts as simply signed where he'd ordered me to. Tommarow, it would be in the the local paper, and the office was already boxing up his things to send to the little red house with the abnormally large front porch he called home. When I walked into that same house, nobody was sitting their, reading a book or typing away at his computer. Dinner was his favorite, home-made lasagna, but I ended up eating it all myself. Even in my own room, this fact remained too true to ignore; Benjemin Deikmann, International Business Associate and Father, was dead, and nothing I could do would change that.

I found myself sitting on my bed, alone, staring up at the ceiling. It had all happened so quickly, so unexpectedly. Just this morning, I'd heard him back out into the streets, ready for another day representing and advertising for his company around the globe. Just this morning, I'd been feeling extremely happy, psyched for the soccer practice and the day's history exam. Now...

I let my hand go loose, letting the VHS tape slide to the ground, making a soft thud against the carpet. I though back to that moment earlier when Mr. Johnson, his presence intimating as ever, had given me the news. Dozens of questions ran through my mind, a simple why prominent among them. Why had this happened? Why did I have to be alone? WHY? Somewhere, deep down, I knew I wasn't going to get an answer, but that didn't stop me from wanting one.

Dejected, I rolled out of my bed, falling face-first into the carpet. I felt something I knew all too well at this point; namely, nothing. It was just they way I worked, I suppose; it was all just too much, my emotions shorting themselves out. My heart was just empty as I stood up, my foot hitting something black and hard as it shifted.

Oh yes... the cassette. My eyes blank, I lean over to pick it up, catching just the faintest scent of Mr. Johnson's aftershave on it. The cassette father had made just for me... something he couldn't even let his steel-hearted lawyer know. Thinking about him as if he where still here made me smile the slightest bit, as I glanced over to the old TV, the VCR still hanging around after years of disuse. I take a step over, the single question taking prominence; should I play it? There really is only one answer, and as I slid it into the slot and listen to the whir of the old parts stirring, I can't help but curse the delay.

A few seconds later, I finally get to see what I'm looking for. The old man, face somber but full of life, was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring right into the camera with a serious line as his mouth. "Hello, kiddo," he smiled a bit as he said this. "If you're watching this, I want to start with saying I'm sorry. Nobody should have to live seeing so many of their family die." He let out a deep sigh, hanging his head. "If you remember nothing else, just remember that no matter what it was that killed me, I tried as hard as I could stay alive." That struck something in my heart, pulling up the word's I'd first been told down at the school office. Flattened by a bus... what are the odds? "However," he continued, taking a deep breath and holding his fists tight. "I... I'm sorry. This is hard to tell you. I've never told anybody this before... my deepest secret." I thought I could see a tear welling up, and at knew instantly it was that serious; nothing, not since I'd been born, had ever made my father cry, my fingers gripping the bed sheets as I settled myself back down. "Give me a moment, please," I watched the tap flicker for a moment, telling me he'd paused and restarted, his face now dry and clear, jaw and lip stiff.

" I've never blamed you for your mother, just know that. But, after she died, well... for awhile I was grieving, but as you got older, what I really needed was to touch a woman again. There was this business trip to Japan and..." he stopped, growling under his breath as tears welled up, bringing another flicker. "Drake... I'll just say it straight up. You have a sister." Before that, I'd never really believed anything was jaw-dropping, but sure enough, there was the slack. I had a... sister? My mind swirled again, the number of times I'd complained about being an only child, the way I'd always envy the hugs and comfort my friend's got... everything. I wanted to disbelieve it, I really did; my father, the least sexual man I know, having an illegitimate child was just too weird. But, the way he said it... could it really be a lie? "The fact that I just left her like that has haunted me since the day I'd first heard about it. But, if I'd told the company what had happened..." he stopped, the answer obvious. "Son... if you're not proud of me anymore, I understand. But, even if I'm dead, the last thing I really want is to make sure she know's her father cared. I want you to find her... please." Then, suddenly, he burst out into tears, falling to the bed and not even bothering to pause. Indeed, I felt just a shocked as he did, sitting there looking like an idiot. Eventually, he managed to pause it again, sitting up and with a picture in his hands of a charming Japanese lady, smiling shyly on a bench next to what looked like a younger version of his father. "This is her mother; Shigeko Aragaki ..." he sighed nostalgically at this, smiling. "Such a lovely woman. If only," he seemed to muse to himself, before pulling himself back. "Anyways, find her and you'll find your sister. Just... let her know why.

I love you,son."

The tape ended abruptly, leaving me starting at the screen and thinking only one thought.

"I've always wanted to go to Japan..."

Author Notes Post-Script: Certainly not my best work. reviews would be greatly appreciated, especially constructive criticism.