Well there was no way to explain that to Takakura, Mark thought as he lay in the water. There is no way to make it seem natural or even innocent. But what was Takakura doing anyways? Mark thought about what he saw. Two feet from under the door, blocking the light from the main room.
He had been in the bath for maybe thirty minutes, maybe an hour. He had no way of telling with no clock in the room. Instead, he plotted in the bath. Takakura would probably have already have moved the book, Mark thought as his back laid along the porcelain tub. Nerves now softened into a gentle state of unease. Occasionally, he would look down to the door. Steam like smoke rolled from the water. Outside, he could hear someone every so often, clearing their throat.
In the blanket darkness of the night, he could, shaded in its folds, search for the item. Earlier, Celia took the doll, he still knows the image of its dirty grass writhing in the wind, almost as if scratching her skin. He knew he would not get that doll back. She probably burned it into the ground. The book though, he might be able to find tonight. As Takakura slept.
The house is small so there are not many places to hide but that applies to him as well. Takakura may be expecting him to perform such an act. He knows something, they all do.
Just then, he was rousted from his thoughts by the creaking of a door. Even only arriving in the Valley a wee while ago, he knows the sound of Takakura's front door creaking. Did he leave?
Stiffening in the water, there was a sudden bang on the inside door.
"Dinner's ready. Come out anytime now"
His voice hung heavy as his fist lifted from the door. Scrapping of chairs, clanging of plates, he seemed to be more reckless with his audibility. Takakura had left some clothes inside the bathroom for him so when Mark left the bathroom, he was clad in a thick night shirt large enough to cover him like a winter coat. It went passed his knees. Water from his hair dibbled onto the clothing and damped the ends of his sleeves as he wiped it away from his forehead.
Takakura was sitting at the table and had a cup to his lips. He didn't speak as Mark rounded the table to the open chair. Mark didn't speak either. It was late in the evening and as they ate in silence, Takakura's eyes rarely rose above the shadow of his caved in eye sockets.
Mark eyed him as he took new pieces of food onto his utensils. The steam from the hot cup, fattened in the air. As he sat, his mind became more bustled with images of prior events. Takakura, the book, the doll, Rock, Nami.
It's better that it remained buried like your father.
What does that mean? Doesn't he have a right to know?
"There is only one bed, but I have an old futon that you can use" Takakura said abruptly. Mark hadn't even thought of the bed situation. But this would probably be for the best, after all, it is much more silent creeping out of a futon than a creaky bed.
How dark does the home become at night? In his home, little glints of lights from the inn occasionally did reflect above the hill and into the windows of Mark's home. Only visible at night. Only lights from the second floor did this.
Takakura didn't gesture to it but Mark could only figure that the futon was stuffed in the linen closet near the kitchen. The screeching of the insects and the echoes of the frogs along the river bank made more noise than they did. However, Mark has something he needed to ask.
"T-"
"Your father used to love late meals like this" he said. Mark was stuttered in surprise.
"Hn?" He was confused by the abruptness of Takakura's statement and even more sudden withdrawal. He didn't mention more. Mark knew that they were friends, so it was no surprise that his father and Takakura would have evening meals. But it felt a little surreal to him now knowing that this was an activity his father participated in. That his father wasn't too lonely.
Thoughts of his father made him subconsciously turn his head in the blank direction of his home. He couldn't see through the wall though he felt as if he could see that paternal presence that shifted through his home. Does he reveal himself to Takakura as well?
"Did he?" Mark replied.
"Yes, we usual had meals together with my wife" Takakura said. Wife? Well he guessed that wasn't unusual. Most men Takakura's age would already be married however, there hasn't been any woman on the farm besides from Celia.
Seeing his confusion, he said, "Oh, no, she isn't here anymore". That made it all the more awkward. Still, Mark was liking where the atmosphere was lifting. If it continued, the night may not be too stiff.
"I'm sorry for your loss" he said in reply. Takakura didn't laugh but it was what someone could describe as an amused grunt.
"That's not it, she just isn't in the Valley"
"Why's that?" Mark asked but immediately knew he had made a mistake. Takakura looked grim. His demeanor, still and thick, was submerged in black water. Fat tongued, Mark tried to change the subject quickly.
"What did you and my father talk about?"
Takakura did loosen slightly after a moment. He released some air from his chest.
"We talked about many things. Your father…" Takakura paused momentarily, "was a good man" He dug into his food. This dug under Mark's skin.
"That's interesting. Everyone seems to think differently" he said, shoveling his food like a moody teenager. It didn't suit him but many things didn't. Takakura didn't add any commentary which grated on Mark more. It was almost like some admission of guilt.
"Your father was…the people in the Valley were just…It is quite difficult to explain but many things have happened in the past few years. But that has nothing to do with you"
"That's not true" Mark snapped. "People have been treating me differently ever since I've arrived. The people at the bar, at the inn-"
"Mark. You look so much like your father" he said. Mark slammed his hands on the table. Takakura stood from the table, bumping it and pushing it closer to Mark.
"Hey!" Mark barked. The light dangled above the two of them. With Takakura standing, his shadow draped the table to Mark's figure. In the difference between their figures, Mark felt the twinges of distress.
"Uh- W-why do you do that?" he stammered.
"Hmm?" Takakura hummed as he lifted the bowls from table. "I don't know what you mean" he said. This statement was said so strongly and his expression so straight that Mark almost wondered if he was mistaken.
Soon Takakura went to the counter holding the bowls and lowered them into the sink as if he was about to wash them. "The futon is in the linen closet. You can get it yourself and set it up in the bedroom"
"Hey, what a damn minute!" he yelled, whipping out of the chair, mouth wide and fist clenched. "Stop it! Tell me what's going on! Why everybody is so secretive!" he came marching to Takakura.
"Calm down" he replied, not one inch of him shuddered at the full sight of Mark tornado-ing towards him.
"Tell me!" he said. This kept happening. Mark felt as if he was about to yank his hair out. Nobody's telling him anything. "Why won't anybody tell me anything?" he screeched. Takakura turned his back to him and returned to the dishes, in that instant, as Takakura lifted a bowl from the sink, Mark snapped his hand down onto the glass bowls. It shattered instantly as hit the ground flat.
Takakura was quick to react, Mark felt his heart quicken as he was gripped harshly by the arm-right under the shoulder-and pressed back into the counter.
"Behave yourself" Takakura snapped at him. His grip like death around Mark. His shadow sinking Mark beneath him. Mark tried to squirm from him but Takakura wasn't giving. "You're in my house and you won't act like that here" he said. There was no getting away.
"W-whatever" his eyes rolled along the floor lines.
"Do you understand?" he asked. When Mark stayed silent, he repeated himself, "Do you under-stand?" he made sure to take pauses for him.
"Okay, whatever-" he yanked his arm to no avail, "I understand, okay! Fine. I understand!" He tried harder but still, with no success. Takakura held him for only another moment before releasing him to the table and ordering him to sit.
Mark felt himself steaming, mainly his cheeks, burning red as embarrassment thumped through his temples. Takakura within a moment, returned to the table with a hot cup of tea. Mark had his arms crossed something deep into his chest and stared down into the table.
Takakura, after a long drink, placed the cup down onto the beaten table.
"So, it seems we should have a talk"
"Really? You think?" Mark replied but soon knew to silence himself from Takakura's dreadful expression.
"Mark, yes, there are many things you are unaware of. But that can only be expected as you have only just arrived"
"That doesn't explain why everyone is hiding everything from me"
"No one is hiding anything from you" Mark immediately slammed his fist onto the table, his whole body shaking in rage-
"That's bullshit!"
"Be silent!" Takakura fired back, drowning out Mark. His voice, deep and large, deafened Mark's. Mark quickly felt his body shudder. Takakura seemed truly frightening to him. He remained quiet.
"As I was saying, no one is hiding anything from you. This is just a normal Valley with normal Valley-folks" He took a drink and Mark waited for him to finish. "Your father…before his death he…" he seemed to be choosing his words carefully between each fragment, "He displayed many concerning behaviors and had many bad encounters with the others and that left a lot of people…bitter"
Mark felt a chill rolling down from behind his ears to his fingertips.
Did father have enemies? Maybe from the bar?
But that doesn't explain earlier.
"What about the book?" Mark dared.
Takakura's brows rose as he sat square in his seat. It was almost as if he didn't hear but Mark knew that he did. Takakura didn't answer immediately, instead he only offered, "The book?"
"The one from the house" he replied.
Well that foils every scheme he had about retrieving the book through theft. He can't try and go after it now that Takakura is on alert and the way he is acting dumb ensures that he wouldn't be getting it back without a struggle.
"Oh, that" he said, taking yet another drink. "It's just an old almanac" he dismisses it. Mark just knew that wasn't the case. There was no reason to snatch an almanac, of all things. And then to hide it? Mark wasn't given the chance to argue, Takakura stood from the table.
"It's getting dark now, let's get that futon set up"
