Memories of the Forgotten One
Chapter Ten
Rule
Author's Note: This chapter is brought to you after a seven year hiatus by "Elliott's class is really easy so far and he isn't used to having free time and needs something to do." So, I thought that finishing up old stories would be a fun hobby. I started this fic when I was fourteen (I'm twenty-one now), so I hope I've improved since then.
A continuity issue: Akira's hair is listed as brown in one chapter, then black in the next. Let's go with brown.
...
Kazuki lies on the floor, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. The evening light trails golds strands though the window, and a notebook opens its wings on his desk, the paper covered in crayons and wax drawings of animals - cats, dogs, and, like Akira's friend, a dragon.
Kazuki has seen seven summers in his life, and an event so rare seems a tragedy to sleep through. Through his window, the maples rust red, the lavender extinguished like a purple flame. He can sense the rain creeping in on the air, ready to turn his limbs heavy and hide the world in grey glass. He's not going to let the last of August be wasted on sleep; the last few days he has been staying awake to draw, his hand always smudged in graphite.
He also sneaks out, meeting up with Akira so much that he thinks the older boy may be getting tired to him. But that's okay, because Akira's started lending him books. Kazuki hides them underneath his piles of clothes, then reads them in the dying light, pressing the pages and his face close to the window to catch the last drops of sun falling in.
Akira's books are all history, and through them Kazuki has learned not only hundreds of characters, but about the World War fifteen years ago, and the Great Kanto Earthquake that happened before he was born, and about how Japan is in a depression, which means people are poor, but it's okay for Kazuki's family because the Sohmas are really wealthy. He also learned about Japan's emperor, who isn't really the emperor because that's Daiki, and Daiki passed, so really there's no emperor at all right now.
But now Akira's mean brother (who is nice to Kazuki, though), is in charge of the family, and making rules that Kazuki's parents have to stay up late and Discuss.
That's the other reason he's staying up tonight.
"I'm not questioning his rulings," his father is saying in the next room, "but he released that rule for the Juunishi. The cat has always been an outsider, and in this case, it may be for the best."
"He's our son, not 'the cat.' The rational was that the Juunishi should have balanced lives, and there are things we can't offer him here. Our family isn't a substitution for classmates his own age."
"Classmates who could find out all manner of things. Do you really want that Ryuu boy to have to erase more minds? Can you really endorse putting anyone though that?"
"Of course I don't endorse it. But are you really going to deny our child what may his only chance to see the world?"
Kazuki's father puts down one of the stone cups he's always drinking out of. "Do we really have to discuss this now?" he says, more quietly.
"It's always on our minds. We might as well say it."
"Sometimes I forget. Sometimes... things seem okay."
"But they're not okay."
"Do you think he knows?"
"If Daiki-sama told him, he hasn't mentioned it. I like to think I would have noticed, but... this is draining, Osamu. I can't do this alone."
"You're not alone."
"I feel like it. I know you work hard. But at least you still see the outside world."
"Is that what you want?"
"Of course that's what I want."
Another clack of stone on the table. "I'll talk to Ken'ichi-san. Kimiko... I didn't know you were unhappy."
Kazuki clambers under the covers at the sound of footsteps, but doesn't sleep well. He watches the purple-blue shadows climb the wall, and is afraid in a way he doesn't understand. Or maybe sad.
...
Two nights later, Osamu returns home late. He sits down at the table with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.
"What did he say?" says Kimiko, as she places a bowl of rice and eel in front of him. She spoons food into a second bowl for herself and sits down across from her husband.
"It's a personal decision." Osamu's gaze resists his wife's face, wandering towards the window to take in the heavy night and white shell of the moon.
"And your decision?" she says flatly. As per her upper class upbringing, Kimiko generally speaks as though she defers to her husband. However, Osamu is well aware of the consequences of displeasing the person who makes his meals and cleans his clothing. Last year he'd eaten take-out rice and shown up at work in a wrinkled shirt three days in a row, and patients gossiped over whether his wife had left him.
"It's not my choice," he says.
The ice in her eyes softens. "You already know my thoughts."
"It's not yours, either."
They finish their meal in silence, and Osamu steps into his son's room. The boy had pushed aside the curtain and presses himself close to the window as he sits cross-legged with a book in his hands. Kazuki jerks as he looks up to see his father, and tries unsuccessfully to hide the book between his knees.
"What are you reading?" asks Osamu without anger.
"…History book," mumbles Kazuki.
"Interesting?"
Kazuki nods.
Osamu, assuming the book is one which Kimiko had taught him from, says, "Do you like your mom's lessons?"
Again, Kazuki nods. Although his father rarely gets angry at him, he also seldom speaks to him, aside from storytelling. Along with the recent arguments between his parents, Kazuki is increasingly convinced that he has done something wrong.
Osamu, meanwhile, wonders about his son's shyness, and whether he has done something to provoke his discomfort. The two look at each other with a sense of confused guilt.
Osamu says, "Are they enough for you?"
Kazuki flounders for the appropriate answer. But by the book in his hands, Osamu already knows the truth.
Kimiko has always been a fast learner, faster than Osamu. Despite his phD and her high school diploma, she absorbs and assimilates new facts with no apparent effort, while Osamu laboured all his life to stay afloat. Kimiko keeps scientific works on the bedside table, while Osamu returns home each evening too exhausted for reading to cross his mind.
He's always thought Kazuki resembled his wife more than himself.
(Lately, he has noticed odd slips in Kimiko. She seems drained, as though the pink tones in her skin have been tinted grey. Shadows bruise the skin around her eyes, and she doesn't go for walks the way she had used to. She used to love autumn, gold foil light in the cracks between the leaves, red maple burning the sunset. She hasn't mentioned the approaching season once.
When he asked about Kazuki's lessons, his wife's words used to dance with excitement, a starburst of science, mathematics, and calligraphy. The last few months, the deluge of words has dried to grey monosyllables.
Part of him worries for Kazuki, while part of him blames him. His whole self worries for Kimiko. The only time he sees energy in her is when they fight. He wonders if he is provoking these fights intentionally.)
Osamu asks, "Do you want to go to school with the other children?"
Kazuki, unsure whether this is a trick question, stays silent.
Osamu adds, "It's not a bad thing, if you do."
Kazuki nods.
His father touches his shoulder. He is stunned by how young his son acts. Kazuki is usually quiet, drawing by himself or playing with wooden toys in his room. Osamu interpreted this as independence, but now considers whether his son is frightened. He does not blame him if he is. In this moment, Osamu does not blame anything on him.
This is his child, and he realizers with surprise that he would die to protect him. The unexpected emotion vibrates through his veins, his body, like his mind, unsure how to process it.
Kazuki, unused to physical contact, focuses on the warmth of his father's hand.