The Escort

Chapter 37: Memories

Hiroki fled the house through the back door, not even bothering to nod as he passed by lady Umari in the kitchen on his way out. After pausing for only a moment on the back porch to slip out of his house slippers and into a pair of wooden-soled geta, he didn't slow until he was well into the back garden.

Chest tight, his mother's words echoing in his ears, Hiroki's eyes filled. He kept moving, however, until his vision blurred too much to walk without stumbling. Stopping to wipe his damp eyes with the back of one hand, at last, he allowed his lean legs to fold.

He remained crouched, squatting on his heels until his breathing evened out and his senses stilled. As his vision cleared, Hiroki took stock of his surroundings. His feet had carried him on autopilot in the direction of his father's pottery studio but he was still about twenty feet from its entrance.

Marveling at how, even blind, his body remembered this invisible boundary and held him to it, a sad smile lightly curled the corner of his mouth. Shifting his gaze, Hiroki saw the small fountain nearby that had served as a marker for him since he was a boy.

"Hiro-chan, come with me."

Mournful-eyed, Hiroki looked up at his mother from where he knelt on the back porch. He was no longer crying and the sharp sting in his backside where his father had caned him was fading. The pain inflicted by his father's harsh words, however, still burned bright within him.

"Come on now. You have sat there long enough, I think."

A soft huff of relief escaped Hiroki at his mother's words.

After this punishment, he was not too proud to take the delicate hand extended to him. He was only too happy to rise having been straining so long to stay up on his knees, trying to save his tender cheeks from the ache caused by their press against his bare heels.

His mother allowed a moment for any stiffness in his thin limbs to settle out, before she reached out her free hand and lightly ruffled his tousled, brown head. Her gentle touch jarred a fresh sob from him.

"Hiro-chan?"

"Papa's angry."

All the sorrow in the world, it seemed, was contained in these two words. Slipping her hand down to take her son's chin, Hiroki's mother lifted his bowed head.

"Yes, your papa was angry. But he'll settle out soon enough." Well acquainted with her husband's sometimes volatile moods she offered this assurance with a light sigh.

"Do you know why he became angry with you, Hiroki?"

Dropping dark eyes from her too-compassionate gaze, Hiroki nodded. "I touched something I shouldn't have…"

It was mid spring. Now five and able to be outside on his own, Hiroki had begun exploring the estate's grounds with great vigor. Unfortunately, today had taken him further away from the house than usual and he'd wandered into his father's studio.

To Hiroki's young eyes, he had slipped into an enchanted dimension. Surrounded by the smell of aging clay and burned wood, he'd been immediately captivated. All the tools and equipment had him enthralled and he'd moved from one to another with only the most cautious of touching; at least, until he saw the row of vases drying out on one of the work tables.

With the clear eye of a child, he immediately identified the best of the vessels and soon held it, cradled in curious hands. Hiroki marveled at how light the piece felt, the bone-dry porcelain cool and chalky under his fingers.

He had just reached out to set it back amongst its kin on the table when his father's voice cracked the studio's silence like a whip. Starting at his name so harshly called, his grasp faltered. The un-fired vase slipped between stunned fingers shattering against the wooden floor at his feet.

"Mmmmm"

Hearing his mother's hum, Hiroki didn't have to look up to know she was nodding. Nor did he want to; for fear that despite her kind tone he would now encounter the same look of disapproval in her eyes he'd seen in his father's.

Keeping his head bowed he allowed her to slip his feet into his garden geta. Once his small feet were properly shod, his mother took up his hand again.

Hiroki didn't resist as he might normally have and instead, allowed himself to be led back out into the yard.

"Your father works very hard, Hiro-chan. He has a difficult job and it is very stressful for him. But he does it to take care of us. He has made for us a good home to protect our bodies and this beautiful garden to nourish our souls."

"Oh, my! The cherry tree is about to come into bloom."

Looking over at the tree and then at his mother, Hiroki wondered if her stop and sudden diversion didn't have more to do with his pronounced limping than a true interest in the miniature tree. Just in case, he straightened his spine and pulled his narrow shoulders back to stand straighter, despite how this exacerbated his aches.

Glancing down and seeing her son's proud posture restored, Hiroki's mother let her hand slip from his. She gave a light nod of approval and began walking again, still keeping her pace languid.

"Because your father takes such good care of us, Hiro-chan, it is only right we do our best to take care of him. Neh?"

There was no fault Hiroki's young mind could find in this logic.

"Of course!"

Pleased to hear the spark return to his voice, looking up at last, Hiroki met his mother's smile.

They continued their trek together through the garden not saying anything else for a time; the only noise between them the rustle of their yukata joining the garden's soft sighs.

As they walked, Hiroki noted that every so often, his mother would gracefully dip to pick up a small, white stone from amidst the path's gravel and slip this into one of her pockets. Soon his sharp eyes were scanning the pebbles beneath him and he was picking up stones too, following her example, only choosing the whitest and roundest.

By the time they stopped beside a small bamboo dipping fountain, one of the many water features that peppered the Kamijou grounds, Hiroki's bony-fingered hands were so full of stones they couldn't close. He watched curiously as his mother knelt beside the fountain and began to pull the stones from her pocket, laying them on the moss-covered ground in a neat row.

Twenty feet beyond the fountain sat his father's studio. With a wince, Hiroki knelt down and added his stones to the growing line.

"Out in the world, Hiroki, your father is surrounded by people, all of them wanting something from him. His relatives, his employee's, his clients. The President is a responsible man… Honorable… and so he does his best to meet all of their needs. To keep them safe and prosperous."

Listening to his mother's quiet words, Hiroki frowned down at his stones, thinking that this sounded like a terribly difficult charge.

"Then, when your father comes home, he is surrounded by us. This is different, but he still must take care of us too."

Hearing this, Hiroki was suddenly convicted of being burdensome; clearly reading his expression, his mother rushed in before he fell too hard into this emotion.

"You're papa likes taking care of us, Hiroki. Surely you know this. For example, you can tell how much he enjoys it when you two read together."

Hiroki nodded, his heart warmed at thoughts of sitting beside his father, as papa showed him stories and asked him about his letters. At the same time his low belly twisted at the possibility that what he'd done today was so bad, his father might not want to ever sit with him like that again.

"Look here, Hiroki."

Dark eyes shifted away from such worrisome speculation and he peered into the basin of the fountain, watching the water ripple with each measure from the bamboo dipper.

Beneath the surface, tiny koi fry darted. Hiroki felt proud to know that baby fish had not appeared there by magic but were placed by Umari, skimmed from the larger ponds, so that they could grow in safety, away from their bigger, hungry relatives.

Then the clear surface shattered and Hiroki watched wide-eyed as his mother's hand dipped down to the bottom of the fountain's small basin to lay one of the gathered white stones there. Withdrawing her pale arm, she sighed.

"Will you place the next one Hiroki? I'm afraid to get my sleeve too damp."

Hiroki's thin chest puffed out slightly with pride at the chance to help his mother and save her pretty yukata from getting soiled. He pushed his own off of his shoulders, allowing it fall down around his sashed waist. The warm spring sun kissed the skin of his back as he picked out a stone. His wiry arm moved down into the cool water amidst the frantic fry and placed it beside its brother.

For the next several minutes Hiroki worked diligently to follow his mother's gentle directions, placing one stone after another at the bottom of the fountain until all of them had been used. Pulling back into the top of his yukata, he blushed under his mother's quiet beaming.

"Do you see what we made here, Hiroki?"

Looking back down into the water, Hiroki noted that the baby koi had already taken to hiding amongst the stones.

"We made a safe place for the fish?"

"Ah, you are so smart, Hiroki! Yes, love, we have made a refuge." She looked over towards the pottery studio and Hiroki followed her gaze. "A refuge is a place that one can feel safe and be with no troubles."

"I'll have to remember to let Umari know that we placed these stones here. A refuge should never be disturbed if possible."

Though only five, Hiroki understood what his mother was telling him: his father's studio was his refuge and they must do what they could to protect it.

Convicted anew by his transgression and how bad it was, Hiroki whispered, "I won't ever go into Papa's studio again, Mama."

A gentle hand caught a wisp of his unruly brown hair and smoothed it behind his ear. "Oh, you mustn't say that, Hiroki. Of course you may go in! But… only when your father invites you."

"And just in case you might forget this, as boys.. er, young men sometimes do… Look into the fountain again, Hiroki. You have made a reminder for yourself here.

Glancing once more into the basin, he saw this was true too. With his mother's direction, Hiroki realized he had made an English "X" with the stones.

"The stones will call out to you now if you get too close, Hiroki. Just make sure to keep your ears open." With this his mother rose.

A pair of warm lips pressed to his forehead to smooth out the furrow that had formed on his five-year-old brow.

"Come on with me back to the house now, Hiroki. I think that Umari has made your favorite for lunch."

The soft click and clack of the fountain's bamboo dipper was the first thing Hiroki registered as he moved into back the present.

Given the words so recently exchanged with his mother, this memory held even more poignancy and he emerged from it slowly, his eyes weighted with new tears. Rising, he took a few hesitant steps over and peered into the fountain's basin. His heart stuttered seeing the algae-worn, pebbled "X" still in the basin's bottom.

Their koi fry's sanctuary had remained undisturbed all these years. Hiroki wished he could have said the same for his father's studio.

His dark eyes shifted over to the President's refuge, noting now, that like the house, it too had been rebuilt. He began moving towards it, but his mind was still caught in the cool waters of the fountain and the stones it contained.

His mother's lesson had been kind, but the stone reminder hardly needed. That day was both the first and the last time Hiroki ever gave his father reason to cane him and he'd kept more than a healthy distance between himself and the studio throughout the rest of his young life.

Until…

Desperate to keep his mind from traveling further down that path, Hiroki focused his consciousness firmly on the world outside rather than within him. As his gaze traveled over the exterior of his father's shop, he noted that the space had been expanded, the materials used in the remodel improved here as well.

The studio's sliding screen doors were open and he could vaguely make out his father in the shadows, moving within the space. Hiroki's chest suddenly constricted. But rather than easing when he looked elsewhere, his distress only increased.

His sharp eyes had immediately noted the garden's growth around the studio.

Something isn't right.

It took him a minute to realize that his father had shifted the location of his studio at least three feet to the left from where it had previously stood. The plants to the right had yet to accommodate for the additional space, the vacancy between them and the building uneasy. Similarly on the left, the old growth had been removed, the newer plantings stark-seeming in their immaturity.

A dark hand twisted his low belly at this realization.

Umari had told Hiroki when he was a child that his mother had brought in an astrologer renowned for her gifts to help pick the ideal place on the property for the President's studio. And while his father teased lady Kamijou about her superstitious ways, he had built his studio where the seer decreed.

After what had transpired within its walls, Hiroki imagined his father must have felt it necessary to tear down and build his sanctuary anew. Moving the structure over to escape the past while still keeping it within the astrologer's coordinates revealed Kamijou Hiromasa's own superstitious nature.

As much as Hiroki promised himself he wouldn't allow his mind to return to such a black place today, the sight of this sent him spinning: the last day that his father claimed him unraveling movie-like in his mind.

Walking through the garden on his way to the back door, Hiroki shifted his pack and sighed. The humid early summer air had taken all the starch out of his school uniform and it clung damply to his lean frame. Rather than annoy him however, he plucked at his limp shirt with a small smile on his face.

Never going to have to wear this again after next week. Thank Kami!

One more boring summer studying and interning for Kamjou Corps and then... Next fall it would be free dress at the University.

Hiroki was only too happy to put his high school days behind him. Plus, I'll be going to school with Akihiko again.

I still can't believe that smart bastard is graduating a year early.

It didn't matter that they had picked different majors, the simple fact that they'd be in the same general vicinity made Hiroki's heartbeat accelerate. They would see each other far more often than they had in the last few years, likely study together. And without the vigorous watch of parents, Hiroki's at least, Akihiko's could care less what their son did it seemed, who knew what might possibly happen.

At this thought Hiroki's long fingers slipped to the first button on his uniform jacket. A flush that had nothing to do with the afternoon heat filled his cheeks. Despite the fact that a number of girls had asked after it, he'd made it all through high school with his blazer intact.

While he'd never admit it and would just as likely never offer it outright, he had saved it for someone.

My princess…

A new wave of heat filled Hiroki's cheeks knowing that it was wrong of him to think of Akihiko like this. To ascribe such a feminine title to one whose body was so decidedly and deliciously male was unnatural.

He wished he could blame his defective character on what had happened to him over the past few years, but Hiroki new all too well that his nature had proven itself far more early. He'd thought of Akihiko like this, loved him like this too, since they were both children.

Too lost in these troublesome thoughts to be paying much attention to his surroundings, Hiroki didn't notice the tall, lean figure watching him from beneath the shade of an old fir. But his mind was pulled harshly back from his ponderings when a strong hand grabbed the strap on his pack from behind and jerked.

Hiroki toppled backwards, his pack sliding off his shoulder into the dark-green ivy lining the path. Before fell completely, however, his back slammed into a hard chest, just as a lean arm reached around him, catching his gasping throat in a vice-like chokehold.

"Hiroki…"

An all too familiar voice ghosted into his ear, one that haunted his days as well as his nights. A violent shiver tremored his body, despite the heat.

Breathing compromised as much by his own fear as the crook of the arm squeezing his airway, he tried to blink away the dark spots that suddenly danced in his vision. Hiroki could feel himself being pulled back deeper into the garden, despite his struggles.

Eyes blurring, he watched one of his shoes come loose, caught on a flagstone set into the path he was being pulled down. It sat there forlornly. Without its mate it looked like a lost child and Hiroki felt his heart well with a strange and overwhelming sorrow for it.

A moment later this emotion was jarred from his chest as he hit the ground, breath knocked from his lungs now completely, the weight of a larger, heavier body atop his, pressing him into the damp earth alongside the path.

It was like being buried alive.

And Hiroki had died this way too many times already.

Thank you all so much for the welcome back reviews. That was the most amazing group of reviews I have received for some time and it has really encouraged me to continue forward with this fic. I believe I sent PM's to all who had an account or logged in to review. For those of you who aren't part of this site or if I missed you, please know that your thoughtful words and reflections on my last chapter made not just my holiday weekend but my whole week.

I know this is a terrible place to end a chapter- right in the middle of a memory. But the first memory with the fountain and the pebbles is dedicated to an extraordinary reader of mine. One I'll always cherish. It was an element that she had suggested and we discussed long ago. Knowing her love of Hiroki I couldn't bring myself to put the fullness of his second memory, with what is going to happen, in the same chapter as that beautiful earlier one with him and his mother.

Given this, I hope you'll all forgive me for leaving you hanging. However, it's my intent to have the next chapter finished before the next weekend is out so you shouldn't be kept in suspense too awful long.

Thank you again for reading and your support of this story.