Chapter Twelve: Strange Occurrences
He was on his bed, a plump white pillow plopped under his elbows, and a torn piece of notebook paper on top of it, alongside a pencil. With narrowed blue eyes, he read his composition all over again before replacing a few words and phrases to ones he thought would fit a lot better. He was hoping to add a little background music, either using his violin or his mother's piano, and thus transform the piece into a decent song. But his illness had crushed his hopes of doing so; unless the operation would do him a miracle, he would be stuck writing fragmented poems while mentally listening to what should've been the music to accompany them.
Upon reaching the last stanza, he frowned. The two concluding lines didn't seem to go very well with the rest of piece, though he couldn't pinpoint why it felt such, so he crushed them out and thought of new ones to take their places and save himself the trouble of figuring out the reason of their apparent misplacement. When he ended up doing nothing about them --- except to stare --- after two minutes or so, he sighed, giving up. He rolled over and lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling absent-mindedly. He had gotten used to the silence, as well as the buzzing sound that would emerge, flowing and ebbing, once in a while, but still…
The shifting of the door's shadow alerted him to the arrival of a visitor, whether that be his mother or his interpreter, and so he pushed himself up and shifted into a cross-legged sitting position, awaiting their entrance. Though not to his surprise, he found both of them entering the room cautiously, most probably thinking he was still asleep.
He allowed a smile. "Bonjour."
Armelle looked as though she was about to cry, but he couldn't blame her for feeling so happy about doing something as simple as greeting someone 'good morning'. He knew how bad he had been acting towards them the past days, and though he still felt frustrated at his disability, having lost a very great portion of his gift, he had managed to control himself and avoid displacing his emotions at them --- or anyone else. It was nobody's fault, after all. Not his, not his mother's, not Natsuuko's, not Kyousuke's. If there was anyone to blame, it was that deity in the heavens who made all things happen, but isn't it said that He makes things happen for a reason?
The black-haired girl, his interpreter and personal aide, was quick to recover from the surprise greeting. "Good morning," she replied, smiling shyly. Despite what had transpired between them the other day, she still remained bashful and, well, scared, of him. She glanced at the blonde-haired woman, seemingly asking for permission, then resumed speaking, using her hands as well. She didn't know how good he was at lip reading already, so she didn't want to take chances. Not that she underestimated him, of course; she just didn't want him to think she was being so irresponsible, presuming things and not confirming their accuracy. "Someone's here to see you. Would you like him to come in, or would you like to meet him yourself? He's right outside the door."
A couple of names flashed in his mind, yet he hoped it was his best friend. Emailing him was a good thing to do, but still, he wanted to apologize to him in person, even though he wasn't sure if he would have the guts when that opportunity would arrive. He told her that he wanted whoever that person was to walk into the door, and so Natsuuko obeyed, as always, relaying the news to his guest. He couldn't hear her, but he understood very well, from the look in the women's eyes, that this person was someone important in his life.
It made him think even more that it was Kyousuke.
Practically holding his breath, he watched and waited for whoever the mysterious person was to enter the room he had considered his sleeping quarters for the past days. A few heartbeats later, a black-haired man, smiling at him warmly, walked in. He was tall, quite muscular, and had a visible scar on the left side of his tanned face. He was disappointed that it wasn't Kyousuke, yet it quickly disappeared as he recognized who it was.
"Hello, Kuroudo," the stranger greeted. Well, he didn't remain a stranger for long. The moment their gazes met, the blonde former Gear Fighter immediately registered his identity into his brain, as well as into his heart.
Kuroudo couldn't resist, couldn't stand keeping his emotions to himself any longer. He knew he was going to explode if he was going to continue what he was doing. Like an excited little kid, he practically jumped out of his bed and rushed to the newcomer, quickly enveloping him in a hug. Only one word escaped his lips: "Dad."
Lilika was already half-asleep when her telephone rang. Groaning, she fumbled for the handset carelessly, and answered the call after half a dozen rings, sinking back into her pillows as the darkness surrounded her. "Oh it's you," she said after hearing the caller's greeting, in a slightly cold tone lined with lack of interest. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to lock up her annoyance inside of her, before asking, "What do you want?"
"I just want to apologize."
She snorted. "Go on."
"Look, I… I'm sorry, okay?"
She sat up, not wanting to fall asleep while he would explain himself, then turned her lampshade on. She allowed her eyes to gaze at the photograph that was situated just beside the telephone, which was of her and her old friends at the Tobita Club, including the arrogant young brat who was at the other end of the line. She shook her head, then leaned back against her pillows once more, this time turning sideways to face the light --- and the picture.
It was going to be a long talk.
"The Marines? Wow!"
"Hard labor, actually," Hideaki said, stretching and leaning back against the couch. It had been a long time ever since he had spent time with his family, as his job almost always kept him away from them, but he was thankful that he was allowed to visit them even for a few days. Kuroudo was about to undergo a life-changing operation, be it a success or not, and he wanted to be there for him, as he was supposed to. He then continued, "Training's tough. So if I were you, Kuroudo, stay in school and take up something that'll keep you in an office, where it's air-conditioned and all you have to do is affix your signature on papers here and there."
"Hideaki," Armelle interrupted in a loving tone, turning her head to the side slightly to regard her husband. She then let out a teasing smile. "He's got my sword fighting skills. I doubt that'll land him in a clerical job."
Natsuuko was surprised to hear that it was Armelle who was skilled with a sword; she had expected Kuroudo to have taken it after his father. As she listened to the ongoing conversation between Kuroudo's parents with much interest, she felt a deep sense of gladness for her friend, as she knew things had finally begun to go his way. She could not help but sense, however, that there was just a little something wrong with the picture, though she couldn't pinpoint what that something was.
She pushed the thought away, forcing a smile to conceal whatever she was thinking of. She didn't want to worry anyone with such silly hunches. Maybe it's just because I feel out of place, being the only one who's not part of their family, she told herself before turning her attention back to the tête-à-tête that was taking place.
---
Author's Notes: Well, after a long absence, I'm finally back with an update for this fic. Sorry for my disappearing act, I just couldn't seem to find the inspiration to continue. Anyway, I would like to thank my 'daughter' Maki, a.k.a. FiendisHSerapH, for annoying me to update this, because I finally was able to. And to those who have been reading and have reviewed this, thank you. Your support means a lot to me.
Review, please? ^^
He was on his bed, a plump white pillow plopped under his elbows, and a torn piece of notebook paper on top of it, alongside a pencil. With narrowed blue eyes, he read his composition all over again before replacing a few words and phrases to ones he thought would fit a lot better. He was hoping to add a little background music, either using his violin or his mother's piano, and thus transform the piece into a decent song. But his illness had crushed his hopes of doing so; unless the operation would do him a miracle, he would be stuck writing fragmented poems while mentally listening to what should've been the music to accompany them.
Upon reaching the last stanza, he frowned. The two concluding lines didn't seem to go very well with the rest of piece, though he couldn't pinpoint why it felt such, so he crushed them out and thought of new ones to take their places and save himself the trouble of figuring out the reason of their apparent misplacement. When he ended up doing nothing about them --- except to stare --- after two minutes or so, he sighed, giving up. He rolled over and lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling absent-mindedly. He had gotten used to the silence, as well as the buzzing sound that would emerge, flowing and ebbing, once in a while, but still…
The shifting of the door's shadow alerted him to the arrival of a visitor, whether that be his mother or his interpreter, and so he pushed himself up and shifted into a cross-legged sitting position, awaiting their entrance. Though not to his surprise, he found both of them entering the room cautiously, most probably thinking he was still asleep.
He allowed a smile. "Bonjour."
Armelle looked as though she was about to cry, but he couldn't blame her for feeling so happy about doing something as simple as greeting someone 'good morning'. He knew how bad he had been acting towards them the past days, and though he still felt frustrated at his disability, having lost a very great portion of his gift, he had managed to control himself and avoid displacing his emotions at them --- or anyone else. It was nobody's fault, after all. Not his, not his mother's, not Natsuuko's, not Kyousuke's. If there was anyone to blame, it was that deity in the heavens who made all things happen, but isn't it said that He makes things happen for a reason?
The black-haired girl, his interpreter and personal aide, was quick to recover from the surprise greeting. "Good morning," she replied, smiling shyly. Despite what had transpired between them the other day, she still remained bashful and, well, scared, of him. She glanced at the blonde-haired woman, seemingly asking for permission, then resumed speaking, using her hands as well. She didn't know how good he was at lip reading already, so she didn't want to take chances. Not that she underestimated him, of course; she just didn't want him to think she was being so irresponsible, presuming things and not confirming their accuracy. "Someone's here to see you. Would you like him to come in, or would you like to meet him yourself? He's right outside the door."
A couple of names flashed in his mind, yet he hoped it was his best friend. Emailing him was a good thing to do, but still, he wanted to apologize to him in person, even though he wasn't sure if he would have the guts when that opportunity would arrive. He told her that he wanted whoever that person was to walk into the door, and so Natsuuko obeyed, as always, relaying the news to his guest. He couldn't hear her, but he understood very well, from the look in the women's eyes, that this person was someone important in his life.
It made him think even more that it was Kyousuke.
Practically holding his breath, he watched and waited for whoever the mysterious person was to enter the room he had considered his sleeping quarters for the past days. A few heartbeats later, a black-haired man, smiling at him warmly, walked in. He was tall, quite muscular, and had a visible scar on the left side of his tanned face. He was disappointed that it wasn't Kyousuke, yet it quickly disappeared as he recognized who it was.
"Hello, Kuroudo," the stranger greeted. Well, he didn't remain a stranger for long. The moment their gazes met, the blonde former Gear Fighter immediately registered his identity into his brain, as well as into his heart.
Kuroudo couldn't resist, couldn't stand keeping his emotions to himself any longer. He knew he was going to explode if he was going to continue what he was doing. Like an excited little kid, he practically jumped out of his bed and rushed to the newcomer, quickly enveloping him in a hug. Only one word escaped his lips: "Dad."
Lilika was already half-asleep when her telephone rang. Groaning, she fumbled for the handset carelessly, and answered the call after half a dozen rings, sinking back into her pillows as the darkness surrounded her. "Oh it's you," she said after hearing the caller's greeting, in a slightly cold tone lined with lack of interest. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to lock up her annoyance inside of her, before asking, "What do you want?"
"I just want to apologize."
She snorted. "Go on."
"Look, I… I'm sorry, okay?"
She sat up, not wanting to fall asleep while he would explain himself, then turned her lampshade on. She allowed her eyes to gaze at the photograph that was situated just beside the telephone, which was of her and her old friends at the Tobita Club, including the arrogant young brat who was at the other end of the line. She shook her head, then leaned back against her pillows once more, this time turning sideways to face the light --- and the picture.
It was going to be a long talk.
"The Marines? Wow!"
"Hard labor, actually," Hideaki said, stretching and leaning back against the couch. It had been a long time ever since he had spent time with his family, as his job almost always kept him away from them, but he was thankful that he was allowed to visit them even for a few days. Kuroudo was about to undergo a life-changing operation, be it a success or not, and he wanted to be there for him, as he was supposed to. He then continued, "Training's tough. So if I were you, Kuroudo, stay in school and take up something that'll keep you in an office, where it's air-conditioned and all you have to do is affix your signature on papers here and there."
"Hideaki," Armelle interrupted in a loving tone, turning her head to the side slightly to regard her husband. She then let out a teasing smile. "He's got my sword fighting skills. I doubt that'll land him in a clerical job."
Natsuuko was surprised to hear that it was Armelle who was skilled with a sword; she had expected Kuroudo to have taken it after his father. As she listened to the ongoing conversation between Kuroudo's parents with much interest, she felt a deep sense of gladness for her friend, as she knew things had finally begun to go his way. She could not help but sense, however, that there was just a little something wrong with the picture, though she couldn't pinpoint what that something was.
She pushed the thought away, forcing a smile to conceal whatever she was thinking of. She didn't want to worry anyone with such silly hunches. Maybe it's just because I feel out of place, being the only one who's not part of their family, she told herself before turning her attention back to the tête-à-tête that was taking place.
---
Author's Notes: Well, after a long absence, I'm finally back with an update for this fic. Sorry for my disappearing act, I just couldn't seem to find the inspiration to continue. Anyway, I would like to thank my 'daughter' Maki, a.k.a. FiendisHSerapH, for annoying me to update this, because I finally was able to. And to those who have been reading and have reviewed this, thank you. Your support means a lot to me.
Review, please? ^^