There was a lump in my throat the size of an apple. I quickly downed the shot of liquor on the table; eyes never leaving the two harbingers of my impending doom that stood in the doorway of the bar like silent statues, waiting for the right moment to jump into action. Even the acute burning of the potent liquor did nothing to push down the apple-sized lump of nerves.
Oda Katsumoto, the Hakken, glowered visibly, as if I dared to move in the presence of the two Court officials. He even started to move forward in my direction, but my father lifted his arm and let his hand rest gently on the wolf's shoulder. Katsumoto looked back with one bushy eyebrow raised in question.
My father's eyes never left mine. "Jin-I," he said, "It's time to leave."
My lip curled in annoyance at the way my father addressed me. Just like a child. The subtle flash of teeth caused Katsu to tremble against his 'restraints'. He must have though I was being defiant. Fact of the matter, I was. "Kim-sonsaengnim," the Hakken growled; his Korean was choppy and slow, "The boy is being stubborn." The wolf didn't know the half of it. Nevertheless, I stood up, trying desperately to hide the fact that my knees were rattling like old windowpanes. I walked past the two Hengeyokai with my eyes properly set to the ground, hands in my pockets. I had left my cigarette burning on the counter. To run back and get it would probably have brought a good amount of bodily harm to my person.
Katsu was practically nipping at my heels. He flanked me directly in my blind spot, which annoyed me to no ends. My father saw no use in pestering me any longer; merely stepping around the both of us to a car that sat outside. I hated that car, and it was such an irrational hate I never quite understood. It was immaculate, inside and out. The cherry red finish never had a scratch or a problem with fading, and even the chrome of the hubcaps was always perfectly shiny. The tires were black as pitch, with such a fine sheen you could almost see your face in it. Dust and dirt were Greek words to the interior. To top it all off, it always smelled new. It was perfect, like some small representation of my father. That's probably why I hated it so much. He seemed to care more about his material things sometimes than he did me.
Of course, I was the family disappointment. One doesn't care for something they despise.
To play it safe, I took the back seat. Katsu had taken the passenger's seat. With my father at the wheel, we were quickly speeding away through the traffic of Seoul.
They were quiet. It was almost too much. Usually, I get an earful, but today was different. The silence was more disturbing with every passing city block. Neither Katsu nor my father spoke a word to each other. I couldn't help but fiddle with everything my fingertips came into contact with: my belt, the seatbelt, the leather interior, the long black strands of my hair. Nothing helped. Finally, I decided I would go crazy if someone didn't say something. The sound of my own voice was better than nothing at all.
"Father, I…" was that an apology starting to come out of my mouth? Even I was taken aback. I was far from sorry for punching that uppity Kitsune.
I stopped talking even before I saw his finger lift from the steering wheel, warning me to be quiet.
The rest of the ride back to the Court was in silence.
~*~*~*~
I paced around my room like a tiger in a cage. Katsu was more than happy to lock me inside, but less than enthused when he was told to keep guard outside the door. Whenever I came within two feet of the exit, I was answered with a low warning growl. That was that. There were no windows to my room, so I was effectively stuck.
I had unplugged my clock from the wall. Time tends to pass faster when you're not actively watching the minutes tick by.
Eventually, pacing grew boring. Boredom grew into restlessness, which grew into more pacing. The cycle continued until I heard voices outside the door. I slowed to a stop, tilting my head to listen in to the conversation.
"…Taek, please," that was my mother's pleading voice. Oh, salvation. "Jin just needs to be out more with the other Kinfolk. He's a restless young man and…"
"Restless?" my father growled in reply, "Yun, he assaulted the Regent's son. Not only that, but he assaulted the Regent's trueborn Shinju son. The young Kitsune is not taking this lightly."
I could hear my mother sigh. "Of course not."
"Jung-Yun. He has dishonored everyone with his actions. It shows the Courts I cannot control my own son, a mere Kinfolk."
"Stop calling him that, Taek," Yun's voice had taken on a warning tone, "He is blessed with being a healthy, happy young man, and worthy enough to carry the breeding of the Khan that your kind so desperately needs!"
"What the Khan need are more Khan!" Hyun-Taek yelled, "We need more warriors to fight for the Emerald Mother, not more uppity Kinfolk who think they're superior to the ones who are blessed! He is not superior, Yun, he was trained to be a leader, and all he did was let us down."
"How can you say that about your own son," Yun whispered, "You treat him like he's nothing."
There was a loud thump. Something hit the wall. I wasn't sure what it was, but I bristled anyway. My father had enough pride and brain to never lay a hand on my mother, but there was always a first time for everything.
"There were the auspicious signs, the readings, the divining; all of those things were wrong. All I wanted was a son who could fight to save not only the Courts, but also more importantly, my dying race. All you birthed was a rebellious failure the Emerald Mother didn't even care to look twice at."
"So I, too, am nothing to you? Because I am only Kin?"
Women. They always had a phrase up their sleeve that could turn the tides of any conversation. Yun was pulling out all the stops. But what I thought would turn the conversation around had only kept it going downhill … at a much faster pace.
"Perhaps if you could have given me a Khan for a son, you would mean more to me."
A red haze clouded my vision. Never before had I heard such harsh words said to my mother. The door unlocked, but I hardly heard it. A figure entered, but I was so angry, I couldn't make out who it was. Through the haze and my tears, I finally made out the slight, willowy form of my mother. I could hardly bear to look at her. Her pain was my fault. I wasn't good enough for her.
I looked away, but her long, delicate fingers touched my cheek, turning my head back towards her. Her face was streaked with tears.
"I heard everything," I hissed.
She nodded.
"Why would I want to be a Khan anyway?" my voice was a angry growl, "Would I treat people the same way? Like dirt? He thinks he's so superior to everything!" I could hear myself growing angrier and angrier, "Why would I want to go out and revel in destruction? Why would I want to risk everything just to be seen better in the eyes of others? Why would I want a duty I could never escape?"
Yun dipped her head. "He is blind sometimes, so wrapped up in his duty and his pride that he doesn't understand that he needs us, not just more Khan. Without us, there would be no more Tiger-Shifters."
"Tiger-born Khan are dead to Korea anyway," I retorted bitterly.
"That fact merely fuels his fury, Jin. He is so desperate to save his own race that he neglects everything else around him except for his the Court and his Sentai. He is so proud, he believes he can save the race by himself."
I snorted. "Then he's a fool."
"Be still, Jin. He has the best intentions…"
"And you still defend him!" I threw up my hands in defeat. "What the hell was that out there, mother? He practically said, 'I don't love you' to…"
Her tiny hand came into contact with my cheek so quickly, I hardly noticed that she moved at all. My own mother had slapped me. The tears glistened in her eyes, full of pain and indignation. My cheek stung like a small fire.
"How dare you speak to me in such a way, Jin," her voice wavered, but the anger was still there. I couldn't reply, even with an apology. My face burned with the sting of her slap and the fire of shame. All I could do was stare at some point on the floor over her shoulder.
She turned and walked out of the room without another word.