Okay, a little over dramatic. I couldn't help it, so enjoy! Sorry for the late edit, I re-did this so many times to make it just right, and I was away from home for awhile.

Chapter 3:

Fear of one's Own Father

Akira shuddered at the idea that his father would see him as less. Or what maybe his father would say to him, or if he even hurt his feelings? Pondering harder, Akira started to wonder if his father even had feelings. If . . . possibly there was some sort of compassion anymore. Back when he was younger, Akira loved his father. But now, he even would start to feel a little scared at the fact of him. How could this be? Akira slammed his fist on the ground. Fear of his own father?

Hearing his father's feet against the creaking floorboards, dread entered Akira's heart. What would he do? How could he get out of this? What will he say? Interrogating himself impatiently, he seemed frozen into where he was kneeling.

The door opened with a seemingly slow and creaking movement. Akira squeezed his eyes shut and lowering his head. Akira was visibly trembling. He couldn't look his father in the eyes. Unable to speak, Akira sat still.

"Akira, your mother and I had a talk . . ." Kouyo said carefully, himself unable to choose the words.

"Father, I know, I was listening." Akira whispered, the words choking off the life in his very soul.

"Is this about yesterday?" Kouyo asked suddenly, his voice raising in a slight but audible manner.

Akira was speechless. He couldn't say a word, and his heart was pounding. Paralyzed, he couldn't move either.

"N . . . No . . ." Akira finally stammered after a seemingly lifetime of silence.

"Akira," he sighed, "Why do you act like this?"

"What do you mean?" Akira asked in return.

They continued in the uncomfortable conversation. Akira was unable to admit that he felt judged by his father, and that those feelings of judgement turn to fear. It hurt Akira to feel so afraid. He felt the hurt in his father's tone grow, yet he couldn't say it, fearing to make the matters worse.

"Come over here," Kouyo said, trying to settle this once and for all.

And, for the first time in months, Akira looked into his father's eyes. They clearly reflected hurt, as much as, or more, of what Akira was feeling.

He felt so empty, letting his son become so emotionally unstable.

He's never looked like this before . . . Akira thought to himself.

Sitting down upon a bench, Akira prepared himself to talk to his father.

"What is the matter Akira? Do I intimidate you?" He asked, looking straight at his son.

"I . . . I . . ." Akira gulped and looked down again. "I feel like you're judging me. I try so hard to impress you, yet you never say a word. I'm never enough. I feel like a failure to you, father."

His eyes crystalized, but his held back his tears. His lips felt sealed shut, as if he was mute. It was impossible to say anything, yet it hurt to be silent to his father, clearly trying to assess the problem.

"I can't . . . do anything right for you, father . . ." he finally squeezed out, his voice merely a small and forced whisper.

Akira couldn't believe he was about to cry, dead in front of his father. He felt like a fool, a weakling, but he just couldn't help it. It hurt so much to feel like his father didn't care, because when his father was home, he loved every second. He yearned for it, because it was his father that inspired him, he made his strong. Kouyo lead Akira higher, and he showed his what it was like. He was someone who Akira respected thoroughly, even more so than Kurata, Ogata, or anyone else. Now, it felt miserable that he was fearful of his father's presence, even after all he had done for him. Pain was burning a hole in Akira's heart, and he couldn't take it anymore. All of these hit Akira unmercifully.

"Maybe this isn't the best time, Akira. Just remember that I am so proud of you . . ."

He left then, but with those few words meaning so much to Akira. With no further ado, he continued his study with a more content attitude toward himself. Opening one of his many books, he studied on. I must keep moving onward. No one will stop me, no one can. Akira thought to himself, a determined look upon his face.

"Akira, dinner!" his mother called.

That was fast. Akira didn't even note the passing time. Again, he was so involved, the entire world no longer mattered.

He quickly walked into the dining room. When Akira walked around the house, he didn't make a single sound. His footsteps were so silent compared to anyone who had ever walked his house before.

Dinner was on the table, and Akira sat down in his usual place.

"Is everything solved now?" his mother asked.

"Yes, mother. You do not need to worry." Akira replied, more tranquil than he was before.

He then added, "Thanks, Dad."

Kouyo smiled at his son, yet curious of what he actually did in the first place. It would take years to understand this boy . . . he chuckled to himself.