This is an extremely long chapter. I hope you enjoy. And thank you so much for your reviews; I cherish each and every one.
Chapter Nine: Brother & Sister
The halls were cold and white, brightly illuminated, in the likeness of a hospital. An amalgam of different scents spread out into the atmosphere; among them the smell of paint due to construction, baking soda and alcohol from the Biology room, and the succulent smell of cinnamon and cookie dough from the Consumer Science room.
"Where are we going?" I asked, grasping his hand. A sudden fear overwhelmed me. The thought of seeing hundreds of strangers in the hallways was frightening, having not been exposed to them for quite some time.
He let out a small gasp and glanced at our intertwined fingers, then at me.
"We're...going to homeroom." He said, harboring confusion in his flawless face. Strangely, it relieved me to see him perplexed. Most of the time, he rarely entertained other expressions than one of complete inner peace.
I eyed him curiously. "Homeroom? Whats that?"
His lips creased into a shy smile. "When we get to the classroom, please don't ask questions like that. Make it seem like we go to different schools, and you're not quite sure how things go around here. That was an obvious question you just asked, and if someone were to hear...it'd be very embarrassing."
I tilted my head in shame. "Sorry."
"A homeroom is the primary classroom of the day where middle and high school students go to sign their attendance cards. From there, its the normal schedule."
"Oh, I see." I smiled, grasping his hand tighter. I did this for two reasons; the first being was that I was still frightened of being around a classroom full of people I've never met before; secondly, was that some rebellious spirit in me wanted to defy Krad.
I was infuriated knowing that Krad was so possessive over his tamers. He had stolen my brother from me completely. At that time, I wanted nothing more than to spite him.
I was to learn later that was not a wise decision.
Souta averted his eyes to our intimacy again. He seemed slightly perturbed by the sight, for obvious reasons. He looked back at me and yanked his hand away from mine, seeming annoyed.
"Don't provoke him." He mumbled, clenching the fist I had previously held.
My heart broke inside of me; whether or not he could tell, I didn't know. I swore I could feel my lip quivering as I turned away from him.
Pathetically, I struggled to fight grief, but my feelings were so powerful that I knew I would submit to them in the following seconds.
For the briefest moment, I could feel what I thought was the soft brush of his hand against my arm. When the touch disappeared, I immediately concluded that he had attempted to comfort me, only to be intercepted by a crude comment Krad had made in the depths of his mind.
A small tear slipped down my heated cheeks and fell on the floor. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I tried desperately to control my actions. Before I could censor myself, I broke into the imminent sobs I had been dreading.
I had never loathed myself more than that moment; as to how I could be so easily overcome by the interruption of a intimate gesture, I did not fathom.
His soft fingers brushed against my curls, sliding down the length of them. We turned to stare at each other, getting lost in this moment as if nothing existed previous to it.
"I'm sorry. I can't do things like that anymore."
The bell sounded throughout the school, startling us both. I fled to the other side of him while a few students retreated from homeroom. Their eyes issued fleeting glances at my frightened ones in an instant; some never cared to remove them.
As more students ran out of their homerooms, several of them stopped for a second to study this strange girl standing next to Souta.
The sight of me gave birth to whispers and murmurings. Among them, I heard, "Who's that girl? She looks like Sayuri Hikari. Is that her daughter? What is she doing here? I didn't know Souta had a girlfriend. Is she crying?"
I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the immense humiliation I felt. Souta grabbed my hand again—much to my shock—and led me away from the inquiring crowd.
We trotted down the steps nervously, all the while preserving our silence. Why did I allow myself to cry right then and there? Could I not save my grief for another time, when Souta and I were protected by solitude? Why was I so lost in his grieved, gray ocean?
A strong blush crawled up my cheeks. I felt like my face had ignited. I was walking the hallway with him to his new class, and then I disgrace us both by bursting into tears! Humiliating..
He led me down to what I assume was the basement of the school. The interior was aligned with abandoned classrooms on the right side. The widows were blackened and barricaded, save the few rays of sunlight that managed to infiltrate the crevices, which were not many. The floor was black and filthy, strewn with old papers and fragments of broken desks.
I stepped on a pencil and the crack made me jump. I yelped, covering my mouth a moment after it was uttered. The pathetic sound echoed into the blackness. He rested a hand on my shoulder to calm me.
"Don't worry. There's nothing here. It's a little dark and old, but there's no rats or anything. I know; I've been to this place dozens of times."
"Why? This isn't one of your classes."
"I know. But people don't bother me here." He whispered as he led to me into one of the classrooms.
It looked just like a normal classroom if you put aside the dust, cobwebs, and darkened interior. There was even small pieces of chalk sitting on the board ledge, along with some ancient math problems, some of the numbers having been blurred out. The chalk was transformed into a heap of dust the moment I touched it. A white cloud burst in my face; I stepped back and giggled, for some odd reason.
"Whats so funny about that?"
"I don't know. Someone has to make a sound in this haunted trash heap. If theres talking, its not as scary. Anyways, its better than crying, like I was in the hallway."
Souta backed far away from me and rested against the edge of the wall, as if he were trying to escape something that had entered the room.
I looked behind me. "What's wrong?" I said out loud. I lowered my tone. "Is someone here?"
A few seconds of silence, and then: "Rio..I love you."
My heart lurched. "What...?"
Did he really say what I thought he did? Surely my imagination has to be running wild. He hasn't the insanity to say such a thing, considering the psychopath inside him. Did he proclaim his love for me in order to spite Krad, too?
"You heard what I said."
"I did. That was...odd of you." I walked up to him with the intention of embracing him, but he was quick to disengage me.
"Remember it. Because that was the last time I'll ever say it to you."
I stopped in my tracks. "What do you mean?"
"Don't push it. Just sit down, and get comfortable. We're staying here until school is over."
"I wish you would tell me whats in your head." I said, trying to make out the obscure numbers etched on the chalkboard. His figure was engulfed by the darkness around him; it was close to impossible to see him move about, so there were no indicators that validated his existence in this room.
I felt utterly alone. But somehow that did not frighten me. I felt as if I was standing in my own mind.
"You don't want to know whats in my head." He murmured, sliding his fingers over my collar bone. His touch froze me in place.
"Dammit, you did it again."
"Did what?" He said it so smoothly, it didn't even sound like a question. Since I couldn't see him in front of me, I imagined him there; an emotionless creature haunted by everything he left behind.
"Being stealthy without even trying. You snuck up on me before...when I was done painting."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."
The room was void of all life until Souta spoke again, filling the room with his heavenly tone of perfection and serenity. "This must be what death is like."
"Death?"
"Yes. It's comforting..." he whispered. "If being asleep forever is as beautiful as this.."
I felt a jab at my heart. "You can't wish for death, Souta! You're too young! And don't talk like that! It makes me sad."
"You're right. I can't wish for something I already have."
His state of melancholy roused me to anger. Before I could stop myself, I delivered a swift slap across his face...for the second time. I wasn't even aware that he was standing in front of me; I only assumed that so my fear wouldn't trouble me as much.
I heard no cry of surprise. I was greeted only by disturbing silence. In the absence of his facial expression, it seemed that it had not moved him.
"It's not polite to strike someone." Souta said...in double voices.
I gasped. I backed away, heading for the exit. The interior was too dark, so I managed to slip on some unknown object and fall. I felt something sharp run up my leg, illiciting a searing pain as it traveled upward, stopping at my hip.
Souta ran his fingers through my hair, undoubtedly possessed by his inner demon; I knew he would not dare to touch me anymore at this dangerous stage in his life.
His warm tongue lapped at my cheek, sliding up to the edge of my left eye. I whimpered there in my rigid position, about to be overcome by tears again. It wasn't so much that I was afraid to move because I did not want to aggravate my wound, it was that his grip had paralyzed me; I feared if I made an attempt to escape, he would be inspired to inflict pain on me.
Or worse.
"The taste of your tears makes me wonder what your blood will taste like. Is it sweet like this, too?" He whispered into my ear.
"Souta, please..." I cried, dragging myself to some unknown place in the room. Interpreting the tapping on the floor, I thought he was walking toward me, probably wearing a concealed grin on his face, forced on him by his possessor.
A spark of electricity burst in the room, the obvious source being my pendant. The light blinded me completely. I heard the chalkboard collapse and the sound of a body being forced into the wall.
I lay in my sprawled position in a stupefied blur; the power of the pendant was too much for me to handle.
After a few painfully silent moments, dull rays of light seeped into the room. I saw the shadow of his hand on the door while he peered outside.
"Rio?" He said, incredulous. "Where are you? God, if I hurt you..I'm sorry!"
A wave of relief crashed on me in one powerful blow. I struggled to stand while I seized the heel of his shoe. "I'm here!"
He turned around, opening the door all the way. As the light broke into the room, his figure became more defined. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes.
"Rio!"
He seemed to have no memory of what had just taken place; he only seemed to know that he had dissociated. He knelt down and grasped me, helping me to my feet.
I cried out in pain. "Ow! My leg!"
Souta peered behind him. "I...cut you?" He dragged us into the dying light in the hallway.
"That...was you?" I panted.
"I just woke up right now! When I did, I felt like I just tasted..."
Our gazes met before he could finish his sentence. The inquisitive moment we shared startled him into silence for a time.
He squinted his eyes, lifting up his free hand. There was a small cut on his palm. "And I...woke up with a sharpened ruler in my hand."
We spent the rest of the day in the eerie confines of the abandoned floor, in order to evade the curiosity of the students.
During that time, he confided in me again. I listened to every word and etched them in my mind, vowing never to forget them. He would only be this way for a short time. His other self would soon come to retrieve him.
He told me that while he could make some sense of the dreams he conceived prior to Ritsuko and Hideki's slaying, his recent dreams did not make the least bit of sense. His mind ran in circles trying to interpret them. He was forced to come to the most horrid of conclusions.
His newest dream was one he had dreamt a day before his birthday. He had some deja vu concerning Ken and Sayuri's argument at the front door, but what happened after that was more noteworthy.
He simply saw fire. He couldn't make out what it was burning. His consciousness was being depleted by the absence of oxygen. The heat was so immense he couldn't breathe.
And then he woke up, remembering today is his birthday.
I inquired as to what he thought it might mean, but he didn't know. And he loathed to think about what it could mean.
We were in for more unwelcome surprises when the student body was dismissed. We were walking out of the back to avoid the crowd, when all of a sudden I felt a mass of my hair being pulled. The force pulled me to the ground.
I immediately thought it was Sayuri here to pick us up. She had somehow got here before Ken. I imagined an old fashioned beating was awaiting me at home.
But when I turned around, Sayuri's furious countenance was not what I met.
A boy who was, without a doubt, Souta's age, was standing over me. His hair was a messy, black heap that met its split ends near his Adam's Apple. But while he was bestowed with the gift of beautiful, dark amethyst eyes, he was cursed with extremely thick eyebrows, which was probably in the norm for a caveman, and disgusting freckles all over his cheeks.
His smell was horrendous. I'd rather not go into detail concerning what he smelled like.
In short, he appeared as a masculine counterpart of Raggedy Anne, after he had died his hair brown, and neglected all forms of proper hygiene.
Upon seeing another boy join my sight, I assumed they were related. The other at his side shared similar features; the only differences between the two being one was blessed by the absence of excessive freckles and wore shorter hair, though not less unkempt as his probable sibling, and they had different eye colors; the amethyst contrasted the dull red his assumed brother bore.
They both looked like of a pair of uncultivated, homeless ruffians who seemed almost as adept at the art of cruelty as Sayuri was.
The longer haired one kicked me in my stomach and yelled, "Get up, you rich art whore!"
The other student commented, "This must be Souta's bitch." He laughed hoarsely, then added, "Hey—wait, doesn't she look like the bitch who fired Dad?"
'Bitch' must be a customary term they use to identify females. Their smell and countenance weren't the only things that were being neglected; their intelligence was suffering a great deal.
Before preparing to kick me again, he stopped and thought for a second, "Hey...yeah, she does! This ain't Souta's girlfriend, it's his sister!"
After the two insults had been uttered, Souta lept to my aid and helped me to my feet, attempting to flee from them.
I thought it detestable that he would run away from a fight, which, after all the suffering I had endured by Sayuri, was ready to inflict.
Having been possessed by a belligerent nature, I pushed him aside and clenched my fists, ready for war. I ran head on into the first boy and swung at him; he quickly dodged and punched my breasts, laughing like a mare as I staggered back, trying to fight tears.
At that moment, I shunned all emotion. Crying wasn't going to get me anywhere, and it certainly wasn't going to remove all of the teeth from his mouth and snap his spine in two.
I gritted my teeth and prepared myself for reentering in the brawl.
"Look, she's gonna kick your ass for punching her in the titties!" The shorter haired brother yelled.
"As if! I'll show you your place, Hikari slut!" The other one spat, preparing himself for another counter attack.
"Leave him alone! He's not worth it! We have to go!" Souta cried nervously, grabbing my arm.
I didn't take a second to consider what he said. My furious state of mind was beyond the reach of all reasoning. I wanted those boys on the ground, and that's what was going to happen.
I released myself from my brother's grip. I ran up to the first boy again and lifted my fist with the apparent intention of punching him in his face. He spread his legs so it would be easier to slide to a stop should my blow force him backward, and braced his hands to seize my fist.
Seeing that punching him was a futile move, I stopped at the last minute and swung my leg back, letting it go full force. I delivered my foot right into the unprotected region I had intended to hit.
"Aaaaah!!" He screamed, grasping his private part and collapsing onto the grass. The other gasped and turned to me, his red eyes blazing like fire.
My hands quivered with all the anger searing through my veins. I couldn't wait to take him down.
He snatched a small knife from his pants pocket and swiped at me. I dodged and fell on the grass as well, panicking once I found it difficult to drag myself away from him.
The impact of the fall had caused my flesh to rip open, exposing the wound. In my bout of foreign fury, I had forgotten about the lengthy, bleeding gash on my leg given to me by my brother.
"RIO!"
A sudden beam of bright light erupted from behind me. The boy wielding the knife screamed in terror and fell back next to his brother, trying to help him up. Once the longer maned boy noticed what was behind me, he let out a scream of his own and prepared himself to run.
Unfortunately for them, Krad grabbed them both before they could blink and and slammed their heads together. They were immediately rendered unconscious under his grasp.
Krad turned to look at me. His magnificence forced a cry from my throat.
He was the single most beautiful and awe-inspiring being I had ever laid eyes on. His hair was not the dull blond I had originally imagined; his locks were sleek and bright gold, being swayed by the gentle breeze. His eyes were not yellow, but an even brighter gold than his mane; his skin, a pale peach hue.
His garb was like a white blanket of silk wrapped around his tall, stunning figure. His appearance could have been compared to that of a seraphic warrior bent on the exaltation of the Grand Designer himself.
Seeing him in person completely destroyed my train of conscious thought. I was compelled to sit there on the grass and gaze at him forever, like the ensnaring spell he was.
He was more than a bogeyman and the perpetrator of my childhood nightmares; he was a real, otherworldly being...and he deserved my fear.
He smiled and his eyes widened. Upon sight of me, he dropped the lifeless boys to the ground.
"My, my...I've never seen one so beautiful when they are frightened. You are like a living Nihon-ningyou (1)."
I felt the ability to breathe or even to think straight being ripped from me. I was so overwhelmed by the fear of imminent death I could not move. I was positive he would seize me before I could flee. And so I stood there, a sitting target, waiting for my life to end.
He knelt down and slid his finger along the slit of the wound, stopping when his finger was almost fully covered in my blood. He lifted it to his face and licked up the underside of his finger, closing his eyes to savor the taste.
Tears slid down my cheeks before I realized I was crying.
With his bloodstained finger, he smirked and pointed back to the unconscious bullies behind him. "Go ahead.." he began softly, "Claim your pound of flesh. I'll kill the other one."
He let out a blood curdling chuckle; tremors crawled up my body and shook every fiber of me.
My pendant lit up again, but not with the blinding intensity of the basement incident. Suddenly, he grunted and grabbed his chest, looking like he was trying to fight off heartburn.
He clenched his teeth and reached for me; by the entrance of adrenaline in my system, I managed to break free of my subduing fear, jump back and run a short distance from him. I staggered on my wounded leg and fell on the grass again, averting my eyes to Krad.
But he was gone.
In his stead was Souta, breathing hard and holding his head.
I attempted to go to him. The shuffling of the grass startled him into awareness about his surroundings. He clenched his hair and screamed, "No! Get away from me!"
"Souta, it's me!"
He ceased his movement for a time; taking a few seconds to inhale and recognize my voice. "R...Rio..?"
"Yes, Souta, it's me. It's alright, I'm here.." I breathed, reaching out for him.
"Didn't I fucking tell you this was going to happen!" Rang a familiar voice in my ears.
Before I could react, I was torn from my position in the grass by Ken, who occupied himself with examining my wound. Sayuri ran up to Souta and slapped him in his face, commanding him to stand.
"Get up!" She rasped, as he struggled to compose himself. He staggered over to her; she arrested Souta and dragged him to the limousine.
"Don't be so rough with him! It's not his fault!" Ken shouted back.
Much to Souta's apparent dismay, the limousine was within plain sight; thus allowing throngs of teenagers to see him being forced across the street with a big red hand mark on his face.
I cringed in disgust and anger. Maybe 'bitch' was the appropriate term...when referring to her at least.
Ken ripped off a large portion of his sleeve and wrapped it around to stanch the blood flow.
He looked up at me, "That bastard got you pretty bad. Call me crazy, but I think it was fortunate that Krad had intervened. If he hadn't, the other one would have killed you. And judging by the look on his face, he wouldn't think twice about killing a girl."
"What are you talking about? Those boys didn't give me this gash. Souta did."
His eyes widened. "What?!"
"I'll tell you about it when we get home. And I don't think it's fortunate that Krad butted in. I could've took him!" I cried, crossing my arms in a defiant stance that wasn't fooling anyone.
"I don't think so." He chuckled, helping me to my feet. "But I must say, I was proud of you when you stood up for yourself. Sayuri and I were pretty surprised when you kicked that boy in the groin. Very impressive."
I blushed. "W-what? You saw that?"
"Course I did. You didn't really think that we were going to let you go to school with Souta unattended, did you?"
"Well...yeah.."
Before we crossed the street, he said, "By the way, when we were watching the fight, Sayuri said that she taught you how to fight like that."
In the aftermath of the school episode, Kayako was commanded that she give up her room for Souta's occupancy. Where they placed him was all about distance; the East Wing was a fair distance from the main house, where all of our rooms were. So, regardless of Souta's feelings on the subject, it was a intelligent move.
However, you can imagine that years of an intimate relationship with my brother, him being my best friend, my partner in crime, and the person I loved the most, it was not something I took very well.
"Souta, doesn't it bother you that we won't be able to see each other anymore?"
"It doesn't matter how we feel. All that matters in the end is that you're alive." He said listlessly.
"I didn't ask you if it mattered! I asked you if it bothers you!"
"No."
I froze. "What?"
"No, it doesn't bother me. In the end, what is more important: the emotional impact of the separation, or the fact that I am very capable of killing you?"
"Souta..."
"I let go of everything for a reason. It was to ensure your safety. And If I have to be parted from you forever, then so be it."
Those were the last words he said to me that night. I was forced to lie awake in my lonely chasm of a bed, his words blaring in my ears. The separation was unfair. Souta was unfair. Everyone was unfair. This wasn't how my life was supposed to be.
Feeling choleric and low in spirits, I tried to envision what my life would be like without him by my side. Again.
The second try had given the initial result; my mind brought me nothing.
Dear God, it was unbearable. It was unthinkable. It was incomprehensible. It was unreal.
My misery forced an interim of anesthesia upon me. I was plunged into a engrossing nightmare that was hard to liberate myself from.
The limousine scours through the city relentlessly. I'm caught within it. I can't seem to get out. If I knew where we were going, then I'd...
Wait. Why is it so dark? I don't get it. Where is...?
A sharp pain runs up my leg in the midst of the blackness.
"God, if I hurt you, I'm sorry!"
"Souta?"
"This is the last time I'll ever say it to you."
"Souta?"
"Don't provoke him."
Tears. God, I'm crying. Where am I? Where am I? I don't know where I am!!
I feel a hand against my cheek. Is it his? It is his touch?
The touch leaves.
No, wait, don't go! I need you here! Dammit, I need you here! Souta?
"In the end...we're still brother and sister."
Hating him! Hating him!
You can't hate me forever...
I startled awake in the middle of the night, pulled into awareness by some unknown source. As my eyes roved lazily over the room, all I could make out was the blackness of my surroundings. The stars beyond the balcony interlaced with them, making the ceiling look like space.
Souta's words haunted me, threatening to burst from my throat, just for the sake of saying them.
I needed a while for my sight to adjust. As each individual color emerged to reveal itself in my eyes, I saw Souta's face aligned itself perfectly in front of me. Oh, the torture of dementia! I thought myself insane. I couldn't be seeing him.
Unconsciously, one hand placed itself on my neck. The hand, of its own accord, searched for my necklace, tickling my sensitive skin. I shivered, emitting a shaky breath.
My pendant was not there.
Trying to still my breathing is something that I have not done too many times, so I wasn't adept at it. I had held my breath before, however, when certain activities called for it: swimming underwater, hiding from Souta with Setsuko so we could jump out on him, hiding in the closet from Sayuri's wrath...just to give a few examples.
And now this.
An ominous limousine scours the streets, just like my dream. And just like my dream, I have no idea where it is going. The guard at my side does, apparently. He holds my hand as he escorts me across the darkened streets; the lights that tower above us being our only way to walk through the night that holds the city of Azumano in a coma-like state.
I trust him. His hand is warm and securely wrapped around my own. My guardian. He wouldn't let anything happen to me.
The limousine comes to a stop at the entrance to a park that was closed off by a two elongated brick walls on the left and right side; the entrance and posterior is closed off by gates.
The guard and I hide in the darkness. Souta steps out into the night, taking a deep breath and running his fingers through his hair. Is he about to meet someone dangerous? Is that why he appears as a nervous shadow edging its way into the threshold of the park?
"We can go in through the back." said the man.
"You have the key to the back?"
He chuckled. "No, of course not. You're just small enough to squeeze through the back gates."
My cheeks flushed; I wasn't sure he could see it or not, he gave no indicators that he did.
We ran past the limousine and across the brick wall on the side of the park. We turned down a corner and was met by the gates.
He situated himself by the wall, "I'll wait for you here, Miss Hikari. I suggest you hide behind a bush or a slide or something. But make sure it's a close range, so you can hear what he's saying."
I nodded appreciatively. "Thank you."
He smiled. "You're welcome."
Just as he had foretold, my body was small enough to ease my way through the space that separated each bar from the other one. Pleased with myself, I stealthily weaved my way through the park, hiding behind slides and ducking under swings.
I caught sight of a huge bush that was situated just behind the bench Souta was sitting in. I slithered like a snake up to the bush, never taking my eyes off of him, even for a few seconds. I wrapped my arms around my legs and brought them to my chest.
There I waited with my brother, unaware of who he was waiting for.
I peek through the bush so I can make out some of his jet black hair, or his lone figure sitting solemnly on the bench. My sight isn't good, considering what I'm hiding behind, but at least I can ascertain that he is there at all.
The only evidence that I have against him regarding my pendant is the hand I felt against my cheek as I slept, and the fact that it is 2:00 in the morning, and he's here...waiting for someone.
Being tantalized by a question I could not supply a definite answer to, my mind ran wild with outlandish assumptions and ridiculous notions.
Among my unreasonable theories were the possibilities that he could be giving my pendant to Phantom Thief Dark, or he could be waiting for someone to retrieve him so he can leave his life of riches, luxury, and inner pain forever.
Among my saner theories was the possibility that he could just want the sanctity of a quiet place and the blanket of innumerable stars under his head so he can sort his frenzied, agonizing thoughts.
I see what appears to be a young girl cross the entrance to the park. Through the thick tresses of this irritating plant, I can see her shoulder length, auburn hair. I could not make out much of her facial features, but by interpreting her movements, she noticed Souta sitting on the bench. She lifted her arms to wave at him. I assumed she was smiling, thinking something like, 'I can't believe he's here. He came'.
My eyes trail down her body. Her chest is underdeveloped and she has an absence of the feminine curves that would indicate that she is in her mid-teens or early twenties. She must be my age, I concluded. She is clothed in purple pajamas with white rabbit slippers on her feet, a further indicator that she is indeed very young.
Souta stands and reaches out for her, awaiting her touch. She gleefully runs up to him and they share a prolonged embrace.
I feel anger simmer inside me. How impertinent of him to go so far as to nourish a romance that I was completely oblivious to! How dare he turn his back to me, and love her as if no psychopathic being resided inside him, desiring to render her to a blood soaked corpse!
I silently inch myself closer to the bush, leaning my head against the bush for easier audio reception.
Souta and the unnamed girl sit down on the bench, holding hands.
Much to my relief, the girl spoke up first. "Oh, Souta, its been so long since we were this close. I've always wanted to hold your hand, but you would never let me. Every time I passed by you in the hallway, you would glare at me. I was so sad, thinking you didn't like me.."
"You know I didn't mean it." he said. Suddenly, a realization dawned on me. Those words were not smooth and emotionless...they were spoken wholeheartedly and sincerely, with a hint of modesty...a penchant of the old Souta.
"I thought you didn't like me at all. Why is it that you can hold my hand now?"
Souta reached to his chest and grasped the pendant, exactly as he would when we were little, and he was being tormented by precognitive death visions.
"I took it from Rio. It keeps Krad inside. When I get home, I have to put it on her again and just hope she doesn't wake up."
An extra gift from the gods, eh? How dare he confide in her! She's an outsider! How would he ever expect her to understand a subject as complicated as this?
"Speaking of Rio...how is she doing?"
He sighed. "God, she hates me. She just didn't understand. That day that she slapped me...I wanted to throw myself out of a window. We haven't replenished the bond we used to have since then. It got pretty bad at school. Damn him to hell, he destroyed everything..."
I struggled to hold a outcry in my throat.
"You know, its not fair that she hit you like that! If I were you, I'd give her a piece of my mind!"
He shook his head. "No."
"What do you mean? You mean you'd just stand there and take it if she did it again?"
"Of course I would. I would never, ever, harm Rio in any way whatsoever. No matter how abusive she is to me...if, at the end of the day, I receive her forgiveness, then she can hit me as much as she likes."
"That's still not right, Souta. You have a...condition. She needs to be more understanding. You're only trying to protect her."
"I know. But now that we're so detached now...I want her to. I want her to hit me. I want to lay on her curls when I sleep. I like it when her hair tickles my nose. I like it when she kisses my cheek after I wake up from a nightmare..." His voice broke, "God, I'd give anything..."
The girl's chocolate brown hair shielded her face as she peered at her shoes. "You know I get jealous when you do that. I wish you would love me like you love her."
He lifted his hand to his cheek and wiped off a tear with the underside of his finger. "That's impossible."
She lifted her head. "Why?"
"Because I love my sister more than anyone. I love my sister more than I fear my parents; that's why I allowed her to drag me to the East Wing, even though I knew we would get in trouble. I love my sister more than I fear the man inside me; so I left her behind."
The girl was silent for a moment. "I would love the chance to be Haruko Hikari someday."
Much to my dismay, I let out a gasp.
"You're upset, aren't you?"
Haruko froze. "I-I...no, no, I'm not."
"Of course you are. Why do you always try to hide things from me?"
"I was being stupid. Forgive me...I wanted you to love me more than your own sister. That's not something I can ask from you."
Souta did not reply. Instead, he slowly tilted himself toward her face, brushing against her cheek with his nose and stirring her strands as he breathed in her scent. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.
Feeling guilt-ridden for eavesdropping on an encounter I clearly was not invited to, and the fact that I was watching his first kiss (as far as I know), I tried to pry my gaze away from that amazing sight, but found that I could not.
A light pink blush flamed his face. It was so heart achingly adorable, I couldn't contain the joy at seeing him finally feeling something, so...I let out a small gasp.
My eyes widened; I covered my mouth to prevent further utterance of noise. The star-crossed couple were still unaware of my presence yet; Souta rested his head on her shoulder and tightened his grip on her hand.
She closed her eyes and treasured the silent moment of intimacy, smiling weakly as a tear drew a path from her eyelashes.
I was afraid of disturbing the sentimental interlude they could not have otherwise during the day, but to my unnoticed gratitude, she suggested that she depart immediately, lest her parents find out about her absence.
They shared one final embrace before her departure. And so she left the park, jogging her way home in those silly, white bunny slippers.
Souta reached out for her, calling her name before he resigned himself to silent contemplation.
In this interval of pondering I attempted to escape noiselessly. I was halfway to the back gates when I tripped in the sand and fell with an, "Umph!"
Souta immediately whipped around to face me. Surprisingly, he did not wear a look of alarm. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and walked up to me with that casual strut of his, sliding his hands into his pockets.
Knowing I could not escape him, I dusted the sand off of my white night gown and ruffled my cerulean curls and said, "Okay, okay, you caught me. I'm not going to deny I followed you."
He breathed a sigh. "You should be asleep. It's very late. How much did you hear?"
"Everything," I mumbled, blushing. The guilt from eavesdropping was quickly subsided with happiness. I had to hear it indirectly, but at least I knew that his love for me had not been destroyed along with our once unbreakable bond.
He closed his eyes, trying to decide on a proper response.
"Look, I just want you to go home and get some sleep. You heard everything you wanted to hear."
"Why did you never tell me that you were dating Haruko? Did anyone know? Now that I think about it, the boys who tried to stab me thought I was your girlfriend."
"No one knew except the two of us." He replied, shading his eyes with his jagged, black bangs. "I was actually going to tell you about our relationship before, but you had to fly off the handle and slap me."
"I thought you were going to apologize."
"No. I was originally going to tell you about Haruko. But I changed my mind at the last minute."
"Why? Don't you trust me anymore?"
"I couldn't risk you telling Ken. I would get the beating of my life."
"How long have you been meeting like this?"
"This was our first time."
I sighed in relief. "You're not lying are you?"
"I have no reason to. You're my sister, no matter what you choose to believe."
"We're not brother and sister," I recalled saying to him.
I rebuked my comment. "Souta, you know I didn't mean that."
A faint smile came to life on his perfect face.
"I know."
Fortunately, suspicions were not mentioned nor implied as to our whereabouts last night. Ken and Sayuri were happily oblivious, jousting like the mad dogs they were at any given chance, like two infants squealing about a toy with what they shared a mutual desire.
Ken had the foresight to keep the knifes from her grasp, leaving her no choice but to rely on hand to hand combat.
Concerning the reason for their feud, I did not know. But what I speculated was that the subject of the brawl was of little significance, as was the case with all of their quarrels.
Ken came up to me, a bloody handkerchief in hand, and wiped his perspiring forehead.
"Damn that bitch to the infernal regions beneath! She knows how to fight! Its been years since high school, but she still has the ass kicking capability to maul a--"
"Why were you fighting in the first place?" I asked, not interested in his self loathing for provoking a tyrant.
"You mean you really don't know? Didn't Souta--"
I issued him a blank expression.
"Never mind. Well, about a few days ago, I submitted Souta's work to the Azumano museum, and they said that the public have been aching for new Hikari work, especially that of a new prodigy. They were interested in selling it; half of the earnings going to the museum, and half to us.
"Sayuri objected, given Souta's condition; I said that Krad wouldn't have the balls to unleash his wrath on hundreds of innocents for no apparent reason. She didn't believe me of course. She tends to let her imagination run wild when it comes to Souta. She said.." he paused for a moment to dab at his bloodstained forehead, "That if I took him there she would kill me--"
"And she wasn't kidding, I see." I replied, grabbing the handkerchief and dabbing his forehead for him. He smiled in gratitude.
"Yeah. But there's more."
I gave a listless nod.
"I said I wanted to take you with him, and she snapped. I'm tellin' ya, she can't be reasoned with. It's not like the paintings are destined for a greater purpose in this house other than collecting dust, anyway."
"Souta doesn't like his work?"
"It's not that he doesn't care about it at all; but considering that it can be used for a good cause, he decided he didn't need the paintings."
"A good cause? Is he donating to charity?"
"No, silly! All the money he gets from his work is going straight to your dowry!"
I ceased my recent occupation to gape at him.
"Wh-what? Why do I need a dowry? Sayuri isn't marrying me off, is she??"
He stood up and took the handkerchief from me, stuffing it in his pocket for safe keeping.
"No. You need a dowry because you do not have financial support outside of this family. Should you run away, which is an utterly stupid decision in itself, you will die impoverished in the streets or survive on the charity of a sympathetic soul.
"With a dowry, you have your own fortune, thus cutting the umbilical cord that binds you to this dark hellhole. Herewith, you would be able to claim your own estate, servants, possessions, and other necessities of a rich art snob."
"Why would he do this?" I murmured to myself, furrowing my eyebrows and shaking my head.
"Because regardless of what you two have gone through these past months, you are still siblings. Being the older, mature, and independent one of the pair, he is endowed with the responsibility of ensuring your safety and happiness, should I, or my dear wife--" he shot a glare at Sayuri, who was glowering at him from the foyer of the kitchen--"Fail to do so."
"And besides—with that demon in him, one can't expect him to get married at all, or even be blessed with a long-term romantic companion. If, for some odd reason, the spirits smile upon him, and he does get married, I assure you it won't be anytime soon. So, it seems best that he invest in your future, instead."
Why won't that expression leave me?
Ever since Setsuko's death, Sayuri was never keen on exposing me to the outside world again; if Ken possessed the cowardice and submission, he would gladly step back and allow that to happen. I would die an old woman in that house; haggard, withered, and with liver spots all over my face, like Ritsuko. Somehow, I longed to see them again.
But I also longed to banish that face from my mind.
As Ken, Souta and I waited for the limousine, Sayuri was far behind us—standing at the front gates with her arms crossed, peering at us with those fiery blue eyes. Like she knew something that we did not.
The moment we stepped out on to the red carpet—yes, they placed a red carpet on the entrance just for our arrival—we were bombarded with questions, camera flashes, and loud shouting. As a last minute attempt to avoid the paparazzi, Ken got back in the limousine and gave us farewell, ordering the man to "scoot off immediately".
The foyer of the art gallery was a sight for sore eyes; the main lobby composed of a white marble floor, an angular set of suede couches encircling a small table with a vase of roses on it. A giant chandelier lit up the room, making the waterfall on the end of the interior glisten in all its beauty.
The relentless camera flashes behind Souta and I made me feel like a movie star. It was a nice transition of how the world viewed me. Most of my life, people hardly had anything nice to say to me. Now I was a queen to them.
Souta paid them no mind. He bowed to the museum director, who smiled at his courteous gesture. He led him down an elongated corridor, aligned with an array of countless paintings on the wall.
I was besotted with the magnificence of it all; I had my eyes glued to the walls, so I wasn't paying attention when the museum director, who had already announced himself as Mr. Tanaka, was calling me by a name I was rarely addressed by.
"Miss Hikari? Miss Hikari?"
"Rio." Souta tapped my shoulder, seeming a bit annoyed with my lack of attention.
I was roused back into sudden cognition with his touch. It was like electricity...
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Mister...um.."
"Tanaka." He smiled and volunteered to take my hand. I swallowed lightly and allowed him my hand. He gently brought me into the auction room.
You could hardly tell it was not used for the presentation of Operas, for it shared the likeness of a huge theater. Hundreds of people were already situated in their seats, waiting to take Souta's work home.
Souta's work was lined at the base of the stage where a podium stood above it.
Mr. Tanaka led us down to the first row, where the first two seats bore reservation cards with our names on them. Souta was to sit on the very first seat; I was to be seated next to him. We occupied two seats of out ten. The rest were vacant, as Mr. Tanaka had informed us that this row was reserved for the Hikari family only.
We exchanged nods before he departed to the stage, adjusting his tie before approaching the podium. Once he stood before it, he took the microphone into his hand and cleared his throat, tapping on the head of it before commencing his speech.
"Welcome to the long-awaited Azumano Art Auction, hosted by none other than..me."
A healthy dose of people rewarded his dry humor with a few chuckles.
"As you all know, the Hikaris are among the greatest artists in the history of Japan, and also are the wealthiest in all of Asia. And finally, after 12 years of silence, the Hikari dynasty has gifted us with more of their awe-inspiring work!"
A loud applause exploded into the room, startling me. I chuckled nervously and bit my lip.
So many strangers...
So very many...
I felt his fingers ghost over my shoulder. "You should calm down," he murmured. "Get used to this room. You'll find yourself in this room more and more prevalently as time passes."
"Thanks for...you know, the dowry thing."
Without looking at me, he nodded.
Mr. Tanaka then began bidding. He knelt down and picked up the first painting, which was one I did not recognize. It was a painting of fire.
"This piece is entitled "Hades". As you can see, Mr. Hikari's collection is quite a brooding one; we have here an assortment of the most eloquently depicted phantasmagoria an aspiring young artist can create. We'll start the bidding at 10,000 dollars (2)."
A man raised his card from a few rows behind us. A few men joined him soon after.
"Fifteen thousand. Going once, going twice—25,000, 25,000 going once—shit!!" Mr. Tanaka spat, the profanity stunning those around him. This actually forced a reaction from Souta's face. His eyes widened somewhat.
Mr. Tanaka fell back against the base of the stage, pointing to something behind the rows.
"They've got guns!" A woman shrieked from the crowd.
Souta and I turned around simultaneously. What was presented to us were a few dozen men in tuxedos at the entrance of the auction room with guns in their hands. Aside from their weapons and murderous intentions, they appeared as very well off men who were only here to buy Souta's work. Apparently, they had other things on their agenda.
"SIT DOWN! ALL YOU RICH BASTARDS! DOWN NOW!" The man in the middle of the group shouted, baring his gun like a monster's fangs to the crowd.
Various people did as they were told. Others, unfortunately, disobeyed, attempting to flee by flinging themselves from row to row, intent on escaping through the right and left side exits.
A lucky few managed to escape unharmed—others, much to everyone's horror and disbelief, were killed. Blood splattered from their collapsing bodies, resulting in hellish screams and outcries.
In the midst of the chaos, one of the men, who I assumed was their leader, strutted down the walkway, pointing his gun on any poor soul who managed to capture his attention. They were immediately silenced.
When he reached Mr. Tanaka, he tore the painting from his hand and flung it at Souta. The canvas hit his feet and broke at one corner from the impact. Souta didn't even flinch.
The man shifted his attention from Souta to Mr. Tanaka, who was so scared the microphone simply slipped from his fingers and slid to a stop on his lap.
The man picked up the microphone. He slipped out a sheet of paper from his pants pocket and read it for all to hear, with obvious intentions on disgracing Mr. Tanaka in front of a frantic audience:
"Mr. Tanaka, you have not paid you dues prior to the advent of the aforementioned date, so this humble person feels it is time to collect what rightfully belongs to the mighty Yakuza clan. This humble person wishes you good fortune in the afterlife, and is very sorry for this matter to be exposed to all you hold near and dear. My regards to your late wife and her lover."
More gasps and outcries commenced; several women fainted.
What happened next completely suspended my animation and conscious thought. The man raised the gun to Mr. Tanaka's forehead and pulled the trigger.
The screams were louder than before, causing a multitude of people to attempt escape. As was the initial result, several managed to lose their lives in a heartbeat; others escaped either unharmed or with bullet wounds to their shoulders and arms.
One woman was even shot in in the side of her stomach and still crawled out the exit way. I assumed she died soon after, for she was bleeding profusely.
I clung to Souta. He stood up and grabbed me, attempting to fling me to the nearest entrance way, which was to our left. I fell on the floor and got back up again in an instant, thinking of nothing but running. I turned around for the briefest moment and saw Souta dodge a bullet from the man who had murdered Mr. Tanaka, and then leap into a crowd of fleeing people.
Gunshots rang in my ears. I couldn't breathe.
I forgot everything previous to this moment. I did not think about dying or the fact that Souta could be; I only ran. And ran. And ran.
All I can hear is the shrieks of names and regret. All I can see is blood. Everywhere. I have to remember to breathe.
I see a woman weeping on the floor, a red mess, holding her dead child in her arms. His mouth is marred with blood. His eyes are blank and lifeless. Another murdered child sleeps.
I see Setsuko in them.
Closing my eyes. Reopening them. I see another similar sight. A man dying next to his wife. Swimming in her thick sea.
Turning a corner. More dead. Blood everywhere. A few men in tuxedos. No, I can't go down that hall. Go.
Another hall. Same thing. Dammit, they're everywhere. I dodge a bullet. My curls and tears encase my face in a blurry net. I can't see. I feel myself sliding across the marble floor. I hear gunshots.
I see fleeting gold strands pass by a case with some distorted vile in it. The glass breaks. A man screams.
Blood spurts from behind me. I get up and run. God...
Where am I? Where? I don't know where I am. I don't know where I am!!
I crawl to the corner of a corridor. I sit there and weep. I wish someone would shoot me..no! I can't wish for that! I don't know where...I don't know...
My water rimmed eyes widened. "Souta?"
Krad collapses on the ground, clutching the side of his stomach. A sound startles him. He doesn't seem to care that he is hurt.
Sirens.
1: Nihon: Japanese for "Japan". In some instances, "Ningyo" can be synonymous to "mermaid", but in this case, it is used for it's usual meaning, "doll".
2: I decided to use American currency instead of Japanese. I am a ditz when it comes to math.
I had to end the chapter, whether I liked it or not. Which I didn't, because this is not how I originally concieved that this was going to go. But I had to...this was getting WAY too long.