Wow, it seems I've acquired some new reviewers. Blink Anyway, thanks for reviewing, everyone! You guys are legends. And it should be a crime to hit that gorgeous mug. What a damn gorgeous mug it is. Rant Anyway… there will be more Ayane. Just the story has shifted focus slightly, through no fault of anybody's except for mine and my love of Ryu. Pft. Seems to always take over, huh! Hope you enjoy, nonetheless!

Oh, god… what was I thinking?

Trying to not let his expression betray his inner turmoil, he entered the house and immediately took the food he had bought to the kitchen. "Would you like me to make dinner?" he asked his father, who was sitting at the bench, inhaling a deep breath of cigarette smoke. He coughed lightly waving the smoke away as subtly as he could.

"Shut up and make it," his father snapped somewhat absently, concentration purely on the cigarette. He got out the packet of rice and put some of it on to boil, de-cantering the rest neatly into a glass jar and putting it in the cupboard. Everything was going smoothly.

That was, until he lost concentration on the matters at hand and dropped a rice bowl. He started back into reality as the loud smashing sound alerted him instantly as to what had happened. Hastily, he began sweeping up the remnants of the bowl, but stopped as a menacing hand grasped his shoulder.

"You can't even carry a bowl," his father's voice was guttural and harsh, as it always was after smoking. "Almost as if you're asking for a beating,"

He remained silent. Usually silence is better. Usually. However, something in his facial expression must have betrayed him, because he felt another hand on his other shoulder grip tightly. "You're an idiot,"

Something happened then. He didn't know what exactly. It felt almost as though a wall, a mental barrier inside him collapsed, baring his soul for the world to see. And point and laugh. I'm so sick of him detesting me, abhorring me so strongly. Why can't he just accept Mother's death and try and move on, instead of letting it consume him? She would never want him to hurt himself like this… can't he see that?

But he knew, even with the violent words and painful lashes that accosted him; that his father would never listen to him. Not now, not ever.

His mother had been the bridge between the two, and now that she was gone, he and his father could never maintain a happy relationship.

It was Mother that was the basis for that. Without her… no wonder he acts the way he does. Life is torture without the one you love.

Normally, his thoughts would have immediately switched to Irene. However, to his surprise, and to some extent, horror, a certain-lavender haired somebody came into his mind.

Ayane… no, not you… Irene…

But no, it was not to be. The Ayane in his head smirked, just the way that the real Ayane would, raising an eyebrow at him condescendingly.

"Look, that chick's dead. So get over her, and tell your dad to get over his chick. You're just as bad as each other, really, except he has a bad temper and likes grog. Everything else is the same. You're both mourning girls; you're both good looking…"

"Ayane, get out of my head," he muttered. It's sad when you can't discern Ayane in reality to Ayane in your head. She sounds exactly the way the real Ayane would. Why exactly does she think that my father is handsome, anyway?

He tried looking at his father through a female's perspective. No wonder I'm not a female.

Russet locks trailed down to muscular shoulders. Light strands of hair that had escaped the bandanna that was holding back most of the hair framed a soft face. It's been so long since I've seen Father smile. At this rate, my death will come before he smiles. He will probably smile when I die.

For some reason, that thought made him rather melancholy. I don't know why I am so assiduous in attempting to please him, so concerned about what he thinks of me. Surely he has made it plain enough the way he feels. But he couldn't shake off the feeling of oppression or to some extent, guilt.

"Clean up the bowl,"

He blinked, and the kitchen became visible again. Hazel eyes were intently boring into him.

"Did you not hear what I said? Clean up the bloody bowl!"

His own hair falling forward as he bent down to clean up the bowl, in the process of picking up a piece of the sharp china, he succeeded in stabbing himself with a sharp edge he hadn't noticed. Dropping the china instantly on the floor, he stared bemusedly at the small hole in his hand, blood welling and dripping from the wound.

"Can't you do anything?" his father angrily pushed him aside and began picking up the remnants of the bowl, wrapping the shards in newspaper before throwing it into the rubbish bin. "Bleed in the sink, not on the floor,"

Right. He watched the blood pool, before bubbling over the edge of the wound, dripping down his skin with a bloody delicacy. But soon the wound will heal and be forgotten. Just like everything that matters, or nothing…

……

Her reaction had been surprised, no doubt about it. But as she watched them both go, aqua eyes narrowed. What about Kasumi? Has he forgotten entirely about her?

She entered the shop defiantly, slamming the door behind her. Then she has to know, there's no other option for it. Kasumi must know, tomorrow, that he's messing around behind her back, it's the least I can do as her friend.

I'm sure that she would do the same for me, too…

With that, Helena strode down the aisles with a new goal ahead.