A/N: Warning for sheltered!Sakusa, who does demonize drug users while cussing out another guy. Also for implied infidelity, cursing, drug references, and shitty people being shitty people.
April—May, 2007
Seasons changed. Autumn transformed into winter, and winter into spring. Sakusa entered his first year of middle school, and saw Midorima less and less. Marumi talked with Shiko about how things were going on Midorima's end, though, so Sakusa was not completely out of the loop. It was complicated and Sakusa had little investment in Midorima's business outside their interactions. Whatever had happened with the Generation of Miracles during the Winter Cup was none of his business.
What was this business, however, was how distant Midorima was becoming from him.
"We don't talk anymore," Sakusa told him one afternoon during Golden Week. Dosho was hosting a training camp for the holiday with some neighboring powerhouse schools, and training for today had just finished. Midorima, who had been practicing his three-pointers in a nearby court, had offered to walk him home. "You're never around, Shintaro."
And Midorima? He was... giddy. As giddy as Midorima would ever get, anyway. Sakusa didn't like talking to a giddy Midorima. It was like making conversation with a brick wall. Midorima bounced his basketball in front of him as they walked, replying, "I'm sorry for that, Kiyoomi. But I've been finding myself occupied lately."
"Occupied with what?"
Deep down, Sakusa knew it wasn't a what, but a who.
Hirakawa Noriko visited Midorima every chance she got. She had graduated from high school last year, and was in her first year of university. A double degree in criminology and law. Midorima had expressed an interest in the same thing according to his mother.
"Following in the footsteps of his father," she had said, proudly. "I shouldn't have been worried that he would take up that silly sport professionally."
Basketball isn't silly, though, Sakusa had wanted to say to her.
There was a flush across his cheeks that Sakusa swore hadn't been there before. Spring fever? Or... "It should be obvious by now—Kiyoomi, there's someone I... There's someone I like. Her blood type is compatible with mine," he went on, almost rambling, "as is her star sign. Kiyoomi, I—"
"You have it bad," snorted Sakusa. "It's Hirakawa Noriko, isn't it?"
"Would you like a medal?"
"Just the rush of victory is enough for me." Outwardly, he presented himself as unruffled about Midorima's confirmation of his crush, but it bothered him more than he would have liked. What kind of person was Noriko, anyway? He had only met her a few times, and had talked to her even less. She was timid, prudish, and soft-spoken at first glance. But Sakusa had seen something lurking deeper beneath the skin—something authoritarian, punishing, and paradoxically self-abnegating—waiting to emerge at the right time.
They walked past the courts Midorima had been shooting hoops in earlier. There was a red-haired teen in there today, his back facing them, but Midorima never called out to him. He must have been Akashi, then. The two of them passed by the courts without issue or intervention.
"Kiyoomi," Midorima said, a lilt to his voice as if he had just remembered something. "Has your father told you about the upcoming gathering yet? Your family has been invited."
"Gathering?" Sakusa had heard of no such thing from either of his parents. "What gathering?"
"A social event," Midorima clarified, "Between some of the most wealthy and influential people on the planet. People from Japan and further away. HNN Foundation hosts a few parties at the Mikura Oriental Hotel in Tokyo—the chain is a subsidiary of the company—every year."
"Huh. That's neat, I guess. So my family's going?"
"Hirakawa-san must have taken a liking to your father. Being Japan's top lawyer has certainly done him some favors as well, I'm sure."
Pride bloomed in Sakusa's chest, and he smiled. "Well, that's no surprise. But how does your dad know someone so... like Hirakawa-san, anyway? I didn't think businessmen like Hirakawa-san would associate with lawyers that have no official affiliation to them."
"Ah. It's quite simple, actually—they were close friends back in the day. Met each other in college. Not to mention," Midorima shot him a quick glance, "My father is no stranger to the corporate world. He's the nephew of my great-uncle, Akashi Goichi, the founder of Akashi Corp."
Sakusa frowned. "Akashi Goichi... Whose son was Akashi Sadanaga..." He wracked his brain, trying to remember what his mother had recounted to him from an issue of Japan Financial once. "Whose son was Akashi Seijuro." From the Generation of Miracles! His teammate! "Which means he's—"
"My second cousin, yes." Midorima let out a sigh of long-suffering. "We try not to let that be known. After all, our circles outside of basketball are quite different. Now that we aren't in Teiko, we almost never interact outside of matches. Although, lately, he has been... getting better. I suppose I have to thank Kuroko Tetsuya for that..."
So Sakusa wasn't the only one with an embarrassing cousin. Good to know. "Do you know what it'll be like? The gathering, that is." It felt too grown-up to be called a party. Parties were for children with cake-smudged cheeks and teenagers with obnoxious music taste and raging hormones.
"I've never been to one hosted by HNN before," admitted Midorima. "This is the first time my family has ever been invited to anything this high class. My mother has some impressive pull, but not nearly this much."
Sakusa guessed that Mahiro and Daizen hadn't reconnected until Sakusa first saw the latter come through Midorima's back door with his youngest daughter hiding behind him. "Is there anything I should know to expect in these things?"
Midorima mulled over his question before answering, "Stick close to Noriko and I. Don't speak to the adults until they speak to you first. You're there to be seen, not heard."
"Got it."
Seen, not heard. The words rubbed him the wrong way, but Sakusa could understand.
He wondered who else there would be around their age.
October, 2003
Sakusa Kiyoomi loved his father. Junji was the pinnacle of justice. Junji saved the innocent from wrongful convictions, and paved the way for criminals to redeem themselves. He'd seen the gifts his father's clients had sent him—flowers and cookies and drawings done by their children.
Thank you, cards read, for believing in us.
Junji caught him one day, in his office, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with his lawyer pin in his palm and trinkets—from Junji's thankful clients—surrounding him. It was not messy. It was stacked neat and orderly, separated into different piles by category of their nature.
Amused, his father stood over him, craning his neck. "Well, hello there, Kiyoomi. I don't think I gave you permission to be here, did I?" Sakusa had gotten his hair and gangling limbs from him, but his face from mostly his mother. Soft and cherub, while Junji's tall nose, pointed chin, and high brow made him look gaunt and ancient.
Eight-year-old Sakusa Kiyoomi peered up at him, cheeks round with youth and brows pinched. He said, "Did the lady give these to you, dad?" The lady with the wide-brimmed hat who had sobbed in the courthouse, makeup running down her cheeks. Junji had saved her son from a life sentence—had reduced it to five.
"Not all of them," Junji said, sitting down beside his son. He sorted through the mess. The first thing he held up for Sakusa to see was a drawing that had been signed by 'Chihiro'. "The daughter of a nursery school teacher drew this for me last year, for saving her mommy from prison." He flipped it around, fondness glowing in his dark eyes. "She should be seven years old this year. Around your age, Kiyoomi."
"Oh." Sakusa picked up folded piece of paper. "What about this one?"
"Just one of many thank-you letters." Junji unfolded it, smoothing out the creases. "'Dear Sakusa-san, thank you for getting my charges dropped. I hope you and your family are doing well. Merry Christmas'. Ah. This was from a civil case I took in '99."
"And this one?"
For the next half an hour, Junji patiently explained the origins of each present he had been given. The majority of them had come from clients, and the rest from the family and friends of clients. The pale sunlight hitting the floor receded. Outside, the twilight sky hung over the world like a dusty pall. Pachelbel thrummed from another room—he was one of Shiko's favorite composers.
Sakusa soaked up each story. Each sentiment that made his heart beat wild with excitement and his hands clammy with sweat. At the end of it all, he looked up to his father. It was his father who had saved all these people. People who hadn't been able to save themselves from the indignity of arrest and the foreboding punishment of prison. He had saved them all.
"Someday," Sakusa vowed, and Junji blinked, slowly, "I'm gonna become a lawyer. So justice can prevail."
The corner of Junji's eyes crinkled, his hand descending upon Sakusa's head to ruffle his curly hair. "As you are now, you're a very antisocial boy. A good-looking one, yes, but an antisocial one all the same. In order to be a lawyer, you'll have to talk to people."
A small pout appeared on his son's face, and he reached up to hug his father's chest. "Really?"
"Yes. But," Junji leaned back against the leg of his desk, "I believe you can do it. You can do anything you put your mind to, Kiyoomi. I know you can."
Shiko called them for dinner.
May 19th, 2007
The Mikura Oriental was about as ritzy and glamorous as Sakusa expected. Not for the first time in his life, Sakusa had dressed up, wearing a tailored, navy blue suit and matching slacks. His shoes were shined and pointed and as dark as Aunt Terano took her coffee. Shiko was in a classier, more refined version of her Victorian dresses, while Junji had donned an adult, tan version of Sakusa's suit.
Daizen and Mahiro met them in the lobby with their children, both men looking as equally refined as Junji.
Instantly, Sakusa left his mother's side to stand with Midorima and Noriko, the three of them murmuring polite greetings.
Daizen took the lead, bringing them into a large hall filled with people. There was a great spread of food, as well, but Sakusa was too distracted by the amount of people in attendance to appreciate the sprawling buffet tables. He cringed against Midorima, who chuckled under his breath.
"We'll find a corner of us to stand in, Kiyoomi, don't worry."
"Yeah, we better," muttered Sakusa, glaring a sizzling hole through the back of one man's blazer. From a quick scan of his surroundings, he could not find anyone his age present. So I'm the youngest, then. He wished Komori were here. The gathering would be far more comfortable that way.
"How are you, Kiyoomi?" Noriko asked, more chipper than usual. Perhaps she felt at home in this sort of environment. It certainly wouldn't be her first time attending such a thing, considering it was her father's company that was hosting it.
"Okay, I guess. Can we go stand by that balcony over there? I need some fresh air." And it'd only been five minutes since they'd set foot in the hall. Luckily, Noriko was understanding, and Midorima maneuvered them to the side, making sure Sakusa would have minimal contact with the other guests.
Noriko wriggled the window open, a cool gust of wind blowing through. It made a woman standing nearby shudder, and she turned around to frown at them.
"Excuse me," said the woman, in accented English. Her features were clearly European now that Sakusa got a closer look at her. "Do you mind closing that?"
"Terribly sorry, Ms. Lang," Noriko apologized hurriedly, also in English. Her pronunciation was perfect. "But my friend here," she gestured to Sakusa, who nodded, "just needs to catch his breath for a bit."
"Oh, so you know who I am, do you?" Haughtily, the woman drew herself up to her full height. Sakusa didn't recognize her. She was probably one of the more unimportant guests here.
"I do." Noriko held her gaze, nothing like the pitiful girl she acted like around her father. "You're Petra Lang. Your father owns the most popular hotel chain in Germany. The first one was opened in Friedrichstrasse. I suppose you're accompanying him for the night. I don't think you realize who I am, though."
Petra scrutinized her. "Should I?"
"My, my, color me disappointed." If anyone could make a blatant sneer look ladylike, it was Noriko. "You should know, Ms. Lang, that the Mikura Oriental and the Lang Lagoon are sister hotels. It appears I've overestimated your interest in continuing the family business and maintaining friendly relations with your Japanese counterpart."
What the hell was she talking about? Sakusa's English was passable at best, and he had no intention of learning the language beyond the textbook. He tossed Midorima a glance, but the older boy seemed just as lost as he was. Noticing his stare, Midorima affirmed, "English is not my forte. You'd have to go to Akashi or Kagami for that."
Sakusa had observed them from afar before. Sometimes, Akashi would be in the neighborhood, playing basketball in the community courts like he didn't have his own private one. He had only ever witnessed Kagami play in the Winter Cup before, however. An impressively built fellow, but he had looked as dumb as rocks.
Whatever Noriko had said, it had sent Petra into a flushing mess. "My apologies, Ms. Hirakawa. I... I hadn't realized."
"Evidently. My father, too, will be disappointed about the hands Lang Lagoon shall soon fall into. Your father is retiring next year, isn't he?"
Noriko would never do that. Sakusa knew she didn't like being around her father. But Petra didn't.
"Come, now." The Lang heir offered a wobbly smile that she probably thought was meant to appease. "He doesn't need to find out. I'm sorry for my behavior. I've had a terrible day. I'll just go somewhere warmer."
"Yes, you do that." Once Petra had disappeared into the crowd, Noriko released a breath. "How troublesome."
"It seem like you handled her well enough," said Midorima.
"Doesn't mean I enjoyed it."
And there it was, starting to come out underneath the sparkling ceiling lights. That side of Noriko that Sakusa had intuitively known existed. Underneath Daizen's thumb, she could be as frail and as twee as she wanted to be, but she was just like the rest of them. Of course she was. She was born into this. She was born for this.
The shell of the egg of resentment toward her that nested in Sakusa's heart began to crack.
Midorima could've had anyone.
But he was choosing her.
She's just like the rest of them.
Sakusa could feign civility with her. He could do it with anyone.
What did Sakusa not like about them? And by them, he meant the people that his family had surrounded themselves with. Yes, they were undoubtedly impressive with their deep pockets and their glittering jewels. Streamlined cars that purred like a jaguar in the Amazon, clothes that spoke for themselves. Tongues of sterling silver meant to mask hearts covered with ugly brown rust. Not often did he ask himself why he spent time with these people, people whose morality had absconded into the night from their gold-plated bodies. Mostly, Sakusa had accepted his company as just another reality of his life.
His father was justice, and so Sakusa would also be. And Midorima. And Noriko, even, if Marumi were to be believed.
They didn't feel like it, though. Noriko didn't feel like justice, and Midorima had stopped feeling like justice a long time ago. Perhaps they had abandoned justice in the pursuit of hedonism, just like the rest of them.
Maybe. Maybe.
Justice hinged on him, then, if Midorima really had lost his way.
"Oh," Noriko had spotted someone walking through the front doors, "Oh. The Prime Minister and his entourage have arrived. My father needs me—he has planned discussion with the Minister of Justice, and I must be there. Please," she dipped her head to Midorima and Sakusa, "excuse me."
Sakusa whipped around to Midorima before he could call after her. "The Prime Minister? You didn't tell me the Prime Minister was coming?"
Midorima shrugged. "Neither did anyone else, it seems." He fidgeted, uneasy. "What do you think the Minister of Justice wants from her?"
"Don't know. But..." Sakusa squinted. Wait a second... Is that...? "Aunt Terano?"
"Hm?"
"Over there." Sakusa tried to point subtly at a raven-haired, bespectacled lady. She was dressed very smartly tonight, in a long red dress that was neither too revealing nor too conservative. "That's my aunt. She's a barrister." Women in law were a rare sight, and just her profession alone set Terano Maki apart from Japan's wider population. Even rarer were women who rose to senior positions in their firms, and Terano had managed to tick that box before she had become a barrister, too. But Sakusa had other concerns about her on his mind. Dammit! What's she doing here? He glanced around, searching for his mother.
Sakusa didn't know the full story, but he knew Terano abhorred Shiko and Tomoka, her sister and half-sister respectively. He hoped, sincerely, that they—Terano and Shiko—would not encounter one another tonight. Neither of them would ever stoop as low as to have a spat over just seeing one another, especially in a public setting, but Terano always got his mother upset in some way.
"Is something wrong?" Midorima asked, a tad impatiently.
"She and my mom don't get on."
"Ah. Do you want to go find her, then? Your mother, that is."
He felt like a child, but he didn't want to navigate this hall alone. "Can we?"
Sakusa let Midorima lead. They circled around tables and cliques of gossiping adults, but somebody found them before they found Shiko. It was pure accident. Midorima had not been looking where he was going, and his elbow and nudged the upper arm of a young man.
"Oi!" the man, Caucasian features twisting in a terrible glare, shouted. "What was that for?" British. He was British.
They shared a glance.
"What? ¿No hablas ingles?" He rolled his eyes before, at last, switching to Japanese. "Forget it. It's not every day I see kids around my age here. Fuck, you sure are tall, aren't you?" The English boy looked Midorima up and down.
Midorima met his gaze. "Your Japanese is very good. Better than I expected from a foreigner."
"Thanks, bud. Mum fancies your little island a little too much. She visits so often and drags me with her all the time. Naturally, I've gotten somewhat accustomed to things around here." He held out a hand to Midorima. "Luke Swan. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Midorima took it. "Midorima Shintaro. The pleasure's all mine."
Luke turned his attention to Sakusa, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. "And who's this little fella?"
It was an effort not to stomp on one of his great big feet. "Sakusa Kiyoomi."
There was mutual loathing, at least. Sakusa could tell by the slightest curl of Midorima's lip—he liked Luke as much as Sakusa did and the latter wouldn't even piss on him if he were on fire and begging for mercy. And judging by Luke's insufferable smile, he thought himself above the both of them, and was probably only even talking to them because they were the only ones around his age.
"Did you come with your mother?" Midorima asked for the sake of making polite conversation.
"Hm? Oh, yes," said Luke, breezily. "You might know her. Angelica Swan of Swan and Holly. It's one of the most well-known department stores in the UK as well as most of west Europe. She's over there," he thumbed at a woman in a cocktail dress, probably in her late forties, "making nice with that old inventor, Quillsh Wammy, and his strange surrogate son with the hunched back."
"Wonderful."
Luke decided to halt the mindless small talk right there, glancing around conspiratorially before whispering, "Say, either of you chaps up for a little recreation? It's not like the adults care for us, after all. If we're here just to look pretty and smell nice, we might as well have a bit of fun behind their backs."
Sakusa arched a brow. Is he saying what I think he's saying? Luke was fifteen. Sixteen, at most. His pallid cheeks flushed against his will. Well, they say that it's normal for teenage boys to explore themselves around this age, but this is too much! He was twelve, and Midorima was sixteen. The last thing on his plans for tonight was to fuck some stranger at a party. His mother would be mortified and his father would probably shoot himself in the head from shame. "Listen, Swan—"
"Please, just Luke is fine."
"—I am not about to jerk you off behind a wall, and neither is Shintaro."
Luke goggled at him, as if the gears in his head and ground to a halt. Then he threw his head back and laughed, uproariously, as if Sakusa had just told him the funniest joke on planet earth. "God! You really thought I'd solicit the both of you for sex? You're an absolute riot, Kiyoomi." The laughter died down, Luke adding, "No, no. I had something far better in mind."
Midorima glowered. "I don't like the sound of this. Kiyoomi, let's go."
"Ah, ah." Sakusa stiffened when Luke's hand curled around his wrist, pulling him away from Midorima. "At least hear me out, first."
"Let go of me!" Sakusa snapped, snatching his hand away from him. "Don't ever touch me again."
Midorima's glare intensified. "Fine, then. Get it over with so we can refuse you and leave."
And Luke—
Luke flipped his tie upside-down, a small baggie of white powder slipping out from a hidden pocket in his tie. It landed, without noise, into his waiting palm, his shoulders hunching to conceal it from prying eyes. "Voila. Care to join me in the bathroom, gentlemen?"
Midorima blanched. "No. No, no, no. Kiyoomi, we're going; let's go find your mother and—"
Sakusa eyed it, warily. "What is that?"
"Kiyoomi, I said we're going to find your mother—"
"This?" Luke smirked. "It's some of the purest shit you'll find."
Drugs? This was drugs, right? His skin prickled. "Put that away."
"Why should I? My last hit is already starting to wear off anyway."
Oh god, had he been high the whole time? Sakusa hadn't even been able to tell—still wasn't able to tell. Luke Swan looked absolutely normal and absolutely sober. Weren't drug addicts supposed to be rancid and ratty?
"Or are you somehow under the illusion that you're above all this?" Luke pressed, hiding the drugs back in his tie. He took a step forward. "You're the son of Japan's top lawyer, right? Mum's quite taken with his image, so I should know. I guess his status has given you a big head, though. Shame."
"Don't listen to a word he says," Midorima snarled. "Kiyoomi!"
"What are you talking about?" Sakusa leered at Luke. "I don't need a big ego to turn down the opportunity of being a junkie."
"Why not? You'll be closer to your father that way. Maybe you'll even get a quick fuck out of it."
Ice formed in his stomach. "What the fuck are you saying?"
"Don't you know? Everybody cheats around these parts, kid, whether they're high or sober. Including your precious papa. He's fucked Kim, you know, and probably Midorima and Lang and Hirakawa. Heck, I bet he did my mum. Mum sleeps with anyone, and your dad's not bad looking."
He was going to kill him. He was going to wring his neck and rip open his chest cavity and drag his intestines out from his stomach— "Shut the fuck up!" hissed Sakusa, his entire body trembling. He was going to kill him. He would, he would. He would wring his stupid junkie neck. "How dare you speak ill of him, when he does so much good for the world! What does your mom do? Exploit Asian immigrants to make her damn jewelry while she gets high with her crackhead son?"
"Hey, now you're crossing the fucking line—"
Midorima stepped between the two of them, his visage a mask of icy calmness. "Enough. You're making a scene. Both of you."
Luke scoffed. "I'd have to agree." He stepped around them, tossing them a filthy look over his shoulder. "Fucking uptight twats."
As soon as he was gone, Midorima looked imploringly at Sakusa. "Are you okay?"
"What was he talking about?" Sakusa couldn't keep the quiver from his voice, his tone one of muted shock. "My dad? Sleeping with people? Getting high? What the fuck was he talking about?"
"He's just an idiot—"
"It's not true, is it?"
Midorima fell quiet.
Oh, no. No, no, no. Why was Midorima hesitating? Why? "I said," Sakusa asked again, "It's not true, is it?" What about mom? What about me? Drugs? Illicit ones? Junji was a lawyer. He knew the penalties of the law. He could probably recite them in his sleep. And adultery? Junji loved Shiko. He had to. He'd married her. He'd fucking married her, so why would he ever—
"I'm not sure," Midorima revealed, at last. "But I do know... That our fathers are not as clean or as innocent as they would like us to believe."
"What? No... No, that can't be true—"
"It is."
"No, it's not!"
Midorima grimaced. "Look, Kiyoomi, you have to accept it sometime. This is the world we live in. There are always going to be things going on behind the scenes that are less-than-savory."
"My father isn't like the rest of them."
"In that case, neither is mine. But guess who's caught him snorting lines in the men's bathroom before? I promised to never tell my mother. He told me he wasn't a habitual user." Midorima was grave. "Did you think that this life would be all glitz and glamour? From the outside, it may appear to be that way, but... It simply isn't. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be for you."
"You're wrong," Sakusa said, coldly. "My father is nothing like yours. Nothing like you. You know, Shintaro, I thought you were different. But I was wrong. You're just like the rest of them. You belong with Noriko, in that sense."
"What has gotten into you?" Midorima seethed. "I know it must be a shock to your system, but you're getting on my last nerve, Kiyoomi. Now is hardly the time for your petty jealousy."
"I'm not jealous."
"Then what would you call it? You think I haven't noticed how much you despise Noriko for her closeness to me? You're just using this as an opportunity to attack her in a more straightforward way than usual."
For a moment, shame held him in its arms, but he shook it away. Shame! What was shame? Sakusa had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. Midorima was the one who should've been ashamed, but here he was, spinning the narrative to make himself look like the victim. Frustration welled up like a violent tide, almost knocking him off his feet. "I am not jealous," he repeated, more brittle than he would have liked, "of her. It's even about her so much as it's about you. Are we even friends anymore? You barely talk to me. You only talk to her, now."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm talking to you now, aren't I?"
"Only because she can't be here."
Midorima gave him a black look. "I'm done with you for tonight. If you feel like being civil to Noriko and I once again, then come find us."
Us. Us.
Sakusa watched him go.
Midorima knew how to twist the knife the way it hurt the most, didn't he?
June 10th, 2007
It was chilly today for mid-summer. Sakusa wasn't a fan. Summers were meant to be hot and winters were meant to be cold. And maybe it was heartless of him to think so, but all he wanted to do was go home. He did not care about the Hirakawa family. He did not care about stone-faced Daizen and pale, pale Noriko. He did not care that Hirakawa Meisa—formerly Miyazawa Meisa—was dead and rotting as the minister spoke beside her casket. She would be ashes soon enough. Ashes scattered in the wind.
Does that make me scum, then? he wondered, frightened by his own uncaring heart. Scum like Luke Swan, who only existed to fuck around on fumes of cocaine? Sakusa had only ever met the woman once. She had been frail, like her daughter, with sunken eyes, a high nose, and unnaturally pointed cheekbones that could've only been the result of cosmetic surgery.
The bereaved party looked like statues. Nobody was crying. It was like they had frozen in time.
Midorima was rubbing comforting circles on Noriko's back, whispering reassurances to her. Things like I'll never leave you and It'll be alright.
"Gone," Noriko uttered, eventually, when everybody began to disperse and talk. "She's... gone."
Had she been close to her mother? Well, that didn't matter anymore. She was dead, and Noriko would just have to get over it. It was a very nasty and austere thing to think, but it was all Sakusa was capable of at the moment. Get over it. Get over it. She's gone.
"I know," Midorima murmured. "I'm sorry, Noriko."
The Sakusa and Midorima families weren't the only guests in attendance. The deceased's affiliation to Hirakawa Daizen and HNN Foundation had drawn spiders and flies out of their homes. Politicians, lawyers, and businessmen—from Japan and from overseas. Men like his father and Midorima's father and Leonid Smirnov. Women like Angelica Swan and Jenny Nguyen and Tessa Kim, who were all points and hard edges with nothing soft about them. Women who had learned to be as cruel and as cunning as their male counterparts to survive in this world.
Angelica Swan flicked her lighter open, lighting up one of her long, expensive cigarettes. She blew out a cloud of smoke, scoffing at something that Jenny Nguyen said. Nearby, her son, Luke, was tapping his fingers on his thigh, probably anticipating his next fix.
Sakusa grit his teeth, brows drawing together in the briefest display of vexation. You're all despicable... Why does my father even bother with you people? He's the best lawyer in Japan. He fights for justice. And these people are... Dirty. Impure. Hypocrites.
He may not have liked Noriko and her family, but even he could not deny the callousness of those in attendance. Had Miyazawa Meisa even meant anything to these people? Had she ever been anything except a pretty little trophy wife to them? What had she liked to do? Hobbies? Likes and dislikes? Had she even been a person? Not to Sakusa she hadn't. Not to anyone else she hadn't, evidently.
A man sniffed to the side, tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks. Sakusa turned. Dr. Miyazawa Kazuhito. Meisa's brother. Well, I guess there are always exceptions. He might have been the only one besides Noriko at this entire service who was genuine about their grief.
The rest of them just used this as an opportunity to socialize. To make themselves known around the rich and the powerful. A hand landed on his shoulder, and he knew it was his mother's. Recognized her touch from a stranger's.
"I'm sorry, Kiyoomi," Shiko breathed, squeezing him. "That you have to see this."
Sakusa bit his lip. "Don't be silly, mom."
"It's not silly. This really is a terrible day."
"It's not the worst."
Shiko tilted her head. "No, I suppose it isn't. But you mustn't always compare bad things to the worst things."
"Don't you know? Everybody cheats around these parts, kid, whether they're high or sober. Including your precious papa. He's fucked Kim, you know, and probably Midorima and Lang and Hirakawa. Heck, I bet he did my mum. Mum sleeps with anyone, and your dad's not bad looking."
Does mom know? Sakusa wanted to throw up. Does mom know that dad cheated on her? With men and with women?
Of course, Luke had to have been lying. But on the off chance that he hadn't been, did Shiko know?
What does it matter? It's not true, anyway. It can't be. Swan's a fucking liar who only knows how to get high. Sakusa Junji had dedicated his whole life into protecting the innocent from the law. Sakusa Junji would not commit adultery. He would not.
"Kiyoomi?" Shiko looked concerned. "Are you alright?"
He nodded. "I'm fine, mom." I want to go home. "Is it alright if I go talk to Shintaro?"
Shiko softened. "Of course. Take your time."
Gravel crunched underfoot as Sakusa weaved through the crowd. Most of the guests had tapered off into smaller groups. Some had even helped themselves to the buffet table in the hall. Finally, he reached where Midorima and Noriko were standing, huddled close together like the wind would rip them apart.
"Noriko," Sakusa said, stolidly. "I'm sorry for your loss." The words felt disingenuous on his tongue. What did he have to be sorry for, anyway? He wasn't the chronic disease that had killed her mother. But it was the right thing to say, anyway, even if it wasn't the best thing.
Noriko offered him a shaky smile. "Thank you. I..." She lifted a hand to her temple, brow wrinkling. "Please, excuse me for one second. I would like to get some air."
Sakusa didn't mention that they were already outside, stepping aside to let her go.
Midorima didn't chase after her, either, instead glancing at Sakusa. "That was mean of you."
Irritation sparked within him. "What?"
"Didn't you see her face?"
"Sorry for not being an expert on Hirakawa Noriko's facial expressions."
Midorima's nostrils flared. "That's one of the worst things you could have said to her. People have been saying it to her and her father since the service began. It kills her, you know. It kills her to have to hear it every five minutes. Honestly, Kiyoomi, I thought you were better than this. More observant, at least. Either you're being deliberately obtuse due to your own personal biases or you're not as sharp as I first pegged you for."
This is so uncalled for! "What the hell is wrong with you, Shintaro? I didn't mean anything by it." Can't we have a civil conversation without it leading back to Noriko? Sakusa grimaced. "You've changed."
"So have you." Midorima eyed him, and Sakusa hated it. Hated how he was looking down on him. "But one thing is still the same. It was evident at the party and it is evident now. You're still the same child you were when we first met. You've sharpened your fangs and your claws, but you're still so painfully naive."
"Naive how?" Sakusa challenged. "Tell me, Shintaro—how exactly am I naive?"
He'd been offered charlie at a party. He'd listened to Luke fucking Swan slander everybody in the room including his own father and hadn't punched him square in the nose. He hadn't shed a tear at this disgrace of a funeral. He'd been civil to Noriko and had said all the textbook things to her. He'd suffered the uncleanliness and backroom dealings of these animals draped in expensive cloth and jewelry. He'd been introduced to the notion of his father possibly snorting lines in the men's bathroom with Daizen and Mahiro and cheating on his mother.
Sakusa Kiyoomi wasn't naive.
Midorima gave him a look. "I'd be here all day if you want to know."
"I knew it. You're just being a blowhard."
"More like I don't have time for your shenanigans right now."
Around them, politicians were subtly electioneering, lawyers were speaking in hushed tones, and businessmen were talking about their grievances with the economy. The economy. Fuck's sake. Sakusa couldn't stand them.
"Go after her, then," growled Sakusa. "She's the only one you have time for nowadays. Don't tell me I'm wrong. We both know it's true."
Petra Lang gave them a glance as she strode past.
"The situation is complicated," Midorima sighed. "Her situation is complicated. I know we've grown apart as a result, but... I care for her. I care for her and so forth."
"What about me?" How he hated the vulnerability tied to those words. I don't need you, he wanted to say, but couldn't.
"I care about you, too," Midorima told him, but Sakusa didn't know whether to believe him or not. "But like I said, her situation is... complicated. Especially now... She needs me more than ever."
"What's so complicated?"
"I can't tell you. Everything, in fact, is based on my own observations and assumptions."
That made sense. Despite his faults—Why did you have to fall so hard for her? She doesn't even love you back, I can see it her eyes—Midorima was, at his core, clever and sharp-eyed. He knew what he was talking about most of the time, and Sakusa had never found fault in his logic and reasoning until now.
"You're just overreacting," Sakusa said, lip curling in a slight sneer. It was more a statement rooted in emotion than anything else. Emotion. Emotion, emotion, emotion. Nobody ever showed their true feelings here. Sakusa was no exception.
"Continue to think that if you wish." Midorima peered down at his watch, clicking his tongue. "She's taking a while. I'm going to go find her."
"Just leave her. She's probably enjoying herself at the pond or something." Noriko liked the water. Even Sakusa knew this much about her, and he hated to know anything about her.
"Kiyoomi."
"Ugh. Then I'll come with you. I hate being around this crowd." He hated any kind of crowd, truth be told, but this crowd was particularly stifling. He did not care for the Minister of Education's nudging into re-electing him, or the Minister of Transport's idle conversation in English with the Minister of Justice and Russian oil magnate Leonid Smirnov. He did not care for Midorima Marumi's crocodile tears or Angelica Swan's cigarette smoke or Tessa Kim's nose job.
Midorima raised a brow. "Fine. Don't dally."
"Tch."
For whatever reason, Midorima strayed off the path, wandering into the woodland and ignoring Sakusa's protests of there's a path right there! Sakusa was tall, but Midorima was taller. Always would be, the damn bastard. Birds twittered in the trees as they crunched down on sticks and leaves, Sakusa focused entirely on the back of Midorima's head. Green just like the canopy. If he blinked, Midorima would disappear, forever, into the woods.
"Noriko!" Midorima would cry every fifteen seconds. "Noriko, where are you?"
Finally, they emerged through the treeline, discovering Noriko seated on a wooden bench with a middle-aged stranger. A koi pond stretched out in front of them.
"I told you she would be here," Sakusa said, feeling both triumphant and scornful. He dipped his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "You could've taken the path, Shintaro." Just to make a point, he made a show of picking a leaf out from his curls.
He received no reaction from Midorima, but Noriko laughed as the green-haired teen rushed to her side. "Kiyoomi's right." She plucked a twig or two from his hair with her slim pianist's fingers. "You're all messy now."
Get a room, why don't you? Sakusa's lips pressed into a thin line. "As much as I'd love to see this continue, our dads are gonna be worried if we don't go back soon."
"Seem like friends to me," said the old stranger, referencing some conversation Sakusa hadn't been present for.
Noriko dropped her gaze. "It's complicated."
It was difficult not to roll his eyes. Is everything complicated with you?
"Noriko," Midorima said, helping her from the bench. "Come on, we're leaving. Your uncle's asking for you."
A lie, but Sakusa was sure Dr. Miyazawa Kazuhito would appreciate having his beloved niece nearby. That man had been on the verge of an emotional breakdown the last Sakusa had saw of him, and that was the last thing he needed to see in the drudgery of his horrible, horrible not-funeral. Because, at its heart, it wasn't the untimely departure of a loved one that had lured the guests in like flies to honey. No, it was the opportunity to scheme and lie and poison and social-climb in the faux cloak of grief. "This time," Sakusa said, not wanting to go through the experience of trudging through trees and shrubs again, "we're taking the path."
Midorima and Noriko intertwined their fingers and started toward the path, Sakusa making to follow. But then he paused and turned, slowly. Who was this man? Who was he to Noriko? His entire body was sagged with the weight of grief, his eyes dull and glazed over with the film of a nicotine addiction and dangerous detachment to reality. He narrowed his eyes into slits, scrutinizing him carefully.
"Kiyoomi!" Midorima called, peering over his shoulder.
Sakusa tore his gaze away from the man's, spinning on his heel. "Yeah, I'm coming."
March 14th, 2011
It was like someone had snapped a finger, and time had flown him by. There were several students between Sakusa and Komori during the ceremony, and Sakusa was impatient to get everything over and done with so he could rejoin his cousin. His diploma meant little when he had already gotten a sports scholarship into Itachiyama Institute. So had Komori, actually, so everything had worked out all fine and dandy for him.
His father was not a drug addict. Or a cheater.
He was just Sakusa Junji, the top lawyer of Japan, here to receive his son at his graduation ceremony.
They're all wrong, Sakusa thought, placating himself, as Junji snapped photo after photo of Sakusa and Komori standing in the courtyard, the two of them holding their diplomas up high. How could my father possibly be any of those things?
"I think I closed my eyes on the last one," Komori bemoaned as he went over to check Junji's camera. His father had taken up a hobby in photography as of late. "I knew it!"
"How lame," drawled Sakusa, and Komori huffed. "You have your eyes closed in the second one, too."
"It's the flash! The flash, I tell you."
"Oh, yeah? Then why don't I have my eyes closed in any of them?"
Komori shrugged, helpless.
Both of their families attended their graduation. His mom and his dad and Aunt Tomoka and Uncle Tateo, Komori's father. The only family member missing was Aunt Terano, but Sakusa chose not to dwell on her. They were better off without her, anyway. She was too busy trying to claw her way up the justice system to care about her family.
"The photos turned out well," Tomoka chirped on the way back to the car, going through Junji's camera. "Can you print them out for us? Please?"
"Of course," Junji agreed, smiling. Shiko didn't smile. She never smiled, and rarely talked, but Sakusa sensed that she was as happy as the rest of them. "Come over next week for tea, and we'll pass them to you."
"Sounds like a plan! You hear that, Motoya?" Tomoka let out one of her big, jolly laughs, one hand descending to ruffle her son's hair. "These are going into the family scrapbook!"
Komori groaned. "Can you not put the ones with my eyes closed in?"
"Oh, sweetie, those are going on the front spread."
Sakusa snickered. Poor Komori.
"Where shall we go?" Tateo asked as they all piled into the Komori family car. "Dear, pick a restaurant."
"Any restaurant is fine as long as it's not a family restaurant," Sakusa chimed in, urgent in his reminder. As if he would want to sit in a filthy pigsty with filthy children running about and pissing in the ball-pit.
"We know, Kiyoomi, we know."
What happened next was like the ending scene of a movie. They drove off into the horizon, no sunset, but with lovely afternoon weather to compromise. And Sakusa—
Sakusa was content.
A/N: Me, writing about Sakusa's scorn for hedonism while indulging in caramel-slathered popcorn and then writing in L and Watari into the background: mmm yes death note reference go brrr.
Me, after reading some of The Hinterland Doctrine: mmm yes sleazy politicians go fefqfvqvfuqbfowbfoebeeihieriirywi
Allie: I'm still writing lol dw, I don't have a specific update schedule but I'm still writing and updating
