Lead Me Down the Garden Path
Nightmare
He was a young boy. Maybe five, almost six.
He couldn't remember how he ended up so far away from his mother, but strangers the height of trees surrounded his small form, bumping him along their rows of legs. He couldn't remember how long he had been wandering on his own. He didn't know how to tell time; his father had tried to get him to understand what those little sticks on a clock meant, but he was too stupid to understand, so he had been told.
"Mother," he opened his mouth to cry, but no one looked at him. No one responded to his high-pitched whine. They continued in their human traffic. It was organized chaos.
He pushed forward, holding his tiny fingers out to ward against the oncoming lower torsos that tossed him around so carelessly and violently. A woman's high-heel kicked him in the shin. A man's heel crushed the toes in his left shoe. The young boy whimpered, releasing a cry of pain from his rounded, slobbered lips. His nose began to run.
"Mother!"
"Out of the way, brat!" a man spat, his bag knocking the boy to the side.
Falling on his hip, he scratched his hand on some small stones on the sidewalk and he couldn't prevent the wail that shot up out of his throat. He wanted to find his mother. How long had he been missing? Was she looking for him as desperately as he was looking for her? He just wanted to see one face he recognized. Why were adults so cold? Why wasn't anyone willing to help him?
"You okay, kid?"
The young boy sniffled his nose and wiped away some running snot with his unscratched hand. Looking down at his injured, scraped palm, he wiped away the beginning traces of blood on his trousers and forced himself to stand.
"I can't find my mom," the boy replied, wobbling slightly when he stood.
The man had wide black pupils and wavy, uninhibited black hair. The boy wouldn't have described the man's face as kind or concerned; however, he was the only one to pay any attention to him since he was separated from his mother. It didn't matter what the man looked like; he was an angel, a saviour, in the boy's eyes.
"Would you like me to help you?"
"To find my mom?"
The man smirked without verbally responding. Placing his claw-like fingers on the boy's shoulder, the man directed the boy through the oncoming stream of pedestrians, of more adults who didn't care about the boy. He looked up at the unrecognized faces. He was surrounded by so many strangers they could have just as well been faceless. Their unique features were so foreign to him they meant nothing. However, the boy was pleased and released a sigh to see the strangers parting around the man. The boy's saviour seemed to easily navigate through the hordes of bodies. The child was grateful he wasn't being bumped around anymore. He thought finding this man had been a sign of luck.
"Where do you live, boy?"
The young boy strained his neck to look up at the man. He pulled his mouth to the side and gripped the hem of his shirt in both hands, raising the material over his belly slightly. He had never seen such untamed hair before on a man.
"I'm not supposed to tell that to strangers," the boy responded.
The man laughed through closed lips and kept his eyes on the people his body waded through. "But we're not strangers now, are we? I'm taking you home. Aren't you lost?"
The boy nodded. "I got lost from my mother."
The man kept his eyes straight ahead of him. "That's not a very good mother, now is it?"
"What do you mean?" The boy's eyebrows furrowed.
"Aren't mothers supposed to keep their children safe? What kind of a mother abandons her child?"
The boy puffed his chest indignantly. "I'm not abdandoned," he misspoke. He didn't have the strength to admit he didn't know what the word abandoned meant.
The man raised an amused eyebrow. "You're not?"
"No!" the boy spat heatedly.
"Then where's your mother, boy?"
"I don't know," he whispered after a tense moment. Tears welled in his eyes.
"I think she left you."
"Mommy wouldn't do that."
"Are you sure?" The man slowly turned his dark eyes to meet the fire in the boy's. "How do you know your mother didn't choose to leave you?"
"She just wouldn't."
"Yes," the man replied, "you said that. But how do you know for certain? Did she tell you?"
"Well," the boy thought, his eyebrows still furrowed, "no, she—."
"That's what I'm saying," the man interrupted, driving the boy to the side of the pathway and stopping. He gripped the boy's shoulder tightly in his grasp to turn the small frame to face him. "I'm afraid I know a lot of little boys whose mothers didn't want them anymore."
"Didn't want them?"
The man nodded. "That's right. I save them."
"Save them?"
The man bowed his head. "I look after the little boys who have been neglected by their families."
Tears began to stream down the small boy's cheeks. "My mommy didn't want me anymore?"
The man nodded again. "I'm afraid so."
"Can I—" the boy sniffled, "can I still go home?"
The man sighed. He started to appear impatient; however, the little boy was too distracted by grief and panic that he didn't recognize the expression. Unfortunately, the child didn't have the wisdom of an aged lifespan to know the man didn't speak the truth to him.
"No, of course you can't go home," the man tried to console. "Your mommy got rid of you, child, don't you get that? You don't have a home to go home to."
"But she wouldn't…" the kid cried, his mouth shaped like an upside 'u' while his lips quivered.
"But she did," the man cooed, kneeling to the child's height.
"But I want my mommy," the child wept, wiping his tears away with his fists.
The man sighed. "But your mommy doesn't want you, boy. You don't have a mommy anymore."
Looking down at his watch, the man released an annoyed sigh and gripped the boy's small shoulders in each hand.
"Listen, boy, I have an idea. I went to the store yesterday and bought some chocolate chip cookies for my sons. I think a few of them may be the same age as you. Why don't I bring you over to my house to meet some of them? Do you like chocolate chip cookies?"
"But," the boy gasped, his breathing strained from crying, "what about my—"
"—Haven't you listened, you stupid child?" the man spat angrily, his unexpected rage frightening any further tears from leaving the child's eyes. "You don't have a mother anymore! You're abandoned, an orphan. You don't belong to a family anymore. You're on your own. Get that in your head!"
The kid's chest quaked in fear and grief. "But I'm—"
"You're alone," the man spat. "Say it."
"I'm ah-alone," the child stuttered, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt.
"Say it again."
"I'm alone."
"Say, "I don't have a mother.'"
"I-I don't have ah-a mother."
"'I don't have a family.' Say it."
"I don't have ah-a family."
"Good boy," the man clucked. "Now that's enough crying," he urged, turning the boy to face his left. His claw-like fingers gripped tightly around the child's shoulder blades. "My home isn't too far from here. I'll introduce you to some of your new brothers. Remember when I told you I rescue little boys who have been discarded or forgotten?"
The boy nodded his head, his eyes and cheeks red.
"Well, you're not alone anymore. I've come to rescue you. Now," he smiled menacingly, "let's go get you some of those cookies, hmm? Would you like a cookie?"
The boy nodded. "I like chocolate chip."
"Very good then," the man sighed, straightening his posture and releasing an exasperated breath. "My sons will be very glad to meet you. What is your name, boy?"
The child wiped away the last few tears from his reddened cheeks. "It's Inuyasha."
"Inuyasha," the man repeated, his overlapping front teeth visible through his thin-lipped smirk. "I'll be looking after you. You may call me 'Father.'"
Inuyasha spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor and angled his body lower, gripping the small dagger tightly in his fist. He couldn't recall a time his heart had beat so fast and desperately.
The other boy screamed as he lunged at Inuyasha's smaller torso, a knife raised over the child's head. Inuyasha may have been one of the smaller boys, but he was the fastest of them all. He saw the attack coming and ducked out of the way. He grunted as he kicked the other boy in the back, causing him to falter. With his own dagger, Inuyasha sprung forward, drawing his blade across the boy's waist.
The ten-year-old screamed, causing groans and chants to emerge from the surrounding onlookers. There were at least 30 people surrounding Inuyasha and the other boy, Manten, in a circle.
"You're dead meat, Inuyasha!" Manten screamed.
"Feh," Inuyasha spat with a smirk. He had overheard the expression from one of the older boys; he liked the way it exploded from his diaphragm. Inuyasha's face immediately flinched from the smirk he had given Manten, his lower jaw pulsing painfully from when the older boy had punched him earlier. Inuyasha had lost a tooth and his mouth was overwhelmed by the coppery taste of blood.
"You need to catch me first, you fat fuck," Inuyasha cussed. He still liked the grown-up sense of accomplishment that swelled within his chest when he swore.
Manten screamed, lunging at Inuyasha once more, his dagger high. Inuyasha jumped out of the way, somersaulting to his feet before standing and growling at Manten. Inuyasha spun on his heel and slashed the blade against Manten's bicep, causing another scream from the boy.
"Fight back you fucking pansy!" One of the older men screamed at Manten from the crowd.
"I'm trying, Father!" Manten cried, narrowing his eyes at Inuyasha and trying to mirror Inuyasha's low stance.
Inuyasha's naked chest was slick with sweat, untouched from Manten's blade. Manten, on the other hand, had nicks and cuts all over his body from his brawl with Inuyasha.
Real men draw blood, Manten chanted in his head. You're not a real man until you make another bleed. You're not a kobun until you make another bleed.
"I will bleed you, Inuyasha."
Inuyasha laughed animatedly, crouching low like he was ready to pounce. "You won't get that dagger anywhere near me, Manten."
A guttural scream left Manten's throat as he rampaged towards Inuyasha, his ten-year-old frame shaking with fear and adrenaline.
He was older than Inuyasha by two years. He was supposed to be the stronger one, the better fighter. Inuyasha was making him look pathetic in front of his father. Manten needed to bleed Inuyasha. Accepted by his new family, Manten was desperate to prove he was ready to become a man.
"Come at me, bitch," eight-year-old Inuyasha taunted, the ends of his silver hair matted with the blood of the other child he fought before Manten.
Manten couldn't believe that he was Inuyasha's third fight of the day and still no one had been able to cut him. Manten would be the one. He would be the one to bleed Inuyasha. But Inuyasha was too fast. He could dodge every thrust of Manten's swiping blade. He could punch harder, fight back faster. The more Manten tried, the more Inuyasha just made him seem to bleed.
There was only one rule when fighting another family member during initiation: you cannot penetrate the skin, you cannot stab or pierce the flesh. Drawing blood demonstrates strength and control. Stabbing demonstrates weakness and powerlessness. If a man is really in control he is able to make his opponent bleed. A real man doesn't have to kill his enemies.
After two years with the family, every boy had to demonstrate his ability to have the control of a man. No boy could become a kobun until he demonstrated that control and level of commitment to the family. And Manten wanted to become a kobun more than anything. He wanted to show his father how strong he could be.
Drool ran down Manten's chin as he lunged at Inuyasha again, only to wind up with another slash on the back of his thigh. Manten screamed as he toppled to the ground.
"You're pathetic," Inuyasha spat, his chest heaving. "How can you fight like this when your father is watching? You should be ashamed."
"Shut your fucking mouth, you bastard," Manten wheezed, getting to his feet. "Just because your daddy isn't around doesn't make you any better than me."
Inuyasha merely smirked and propelled himself out of the way of Manten's incoming blade. With how slow Manten was, Inuyasha couldn't believe Manten had already defeated three other boys. Inuyasha was Manten's last opponent in initiation, and time was almost up. If Manten wasn't able to make Inuyasha bleed, Manten failed initiation.
Manten's body was exhausted after a full day's worth of fighting; he could barely hold himself upright any longer. Pain ached from every corner of his body and he just wanted to lay down. He couldn't deny the shame that penetrated every pore of his person. He didn't want to think about the embarrassment he caused his Father. His Father had chosen Manten as the boy he would raise to become his kobun. How could Manten bring such shame to that choice?
Manten narrowed his eyes as his adrenaline beat through his veins. His eyes were wild, his heart fluttered madly. He needed to bring Inuyasha down. Desperation clinging madly in his heart, Manten made a rash decision. Fuck the rules, he thought. He would bring Inuyasha down anyway he could. Even if that meant stabbing the bastard to death.
Raising his weapon above his head with both hands, Manten screamed and dove his body at Inuyasha, thrusting the weapon down towards Inuyasha.
"Are you fucking crazy?" Inuyasha screamed diving out of the way. He saw the change in Manten's eyes. He heard the woosh of air past his face from the vertical drive of Manten's weapon. Manten now handled the weapon with the intent to kill.
Manten swiped and stabbed the blade at Inuyasha; however, Inuyasha continued to outrun the actions. Finally, the boys on either side of the circle—the other family members screaming and shouting around them—Manten held his weapon to his side and ran at Inuyasha. Inuyasha gasped and tried to duck out of the way; however, an onlooker stuck his foot out to trip Inuyasha. A few of the men bellowed loudly as Inuyasha toppled to the ground. Inuyasha knew the other family members were free to intervene as they chose; however, he still couldn't help swearing at the man who tripped him. Manten used this moment to his advantage to climb on top of Inuyasha, making stabbing motions in the air while he mounted his opponent.
"Get off me!" Inuyasha screamed, holding onto Manten's forearms to keep the dagger away from Inuyasha's skin. Inuyasha's stomach and waist smeared with waves of red from Manten's bloody torso.
"Die, Inuyasha!" Manten screamed, struggling against Inuyasha to drive the weapon into Inuyasha's chest.
"You can't do this!" Inuyasha shouted in response, his body quaking from the intensity with which he countered Manten's pressure. The dagger shuddered from the conflict, the blade hovering merely inches from Inuyasha's chest.
Inuyasha shook his body from side to side to dismount Manten; however, the boy laid all his weight into the dagger, keen to watch the triangular end penetrate the milky white adolescent skin. Manten's sweat landed heavily on Inuyasha's cheeks and neck. Using his back legs, Inuyasha finally maneuvered his body so he could kick Manten off him, sending the boy toppling to his side. Gasping for air, Inuyasha sputtered to his feet, only to look up in time to see Manten screaming and running towards him, his blade held out in front of him, leading the charge.
Holding his own dagger protectively in front of his body, Inuyasha's face went pale as he heard the sickening sound of skin ingesting metal, like a French knife penetrating the rind of a melon. Manten's body went rigid as Inuyasha's dagger plunged into his fleshy belly, his own dagger dropping from his fingertips.
Large hands pulled Inuyasha away from Manten before the life fully left Manten's eyes. This was the first time Inuyasha had ever seen a dead body. It was the also the first time he had ever killed someone.
"I didn't mean to," Inuyasha gasped, the words barely audible on his infantile lips. "I-I didn't mean," he sputtered; however, he had been thrown out of the room and the door slammed in his face before he could complete his sentence. His face was white with grief and shame.
He turned dejectedly from the door, desperate to understand what had happened. He didn't know how he managed to stab Manten. Was it on purpose? No, he didn't think so. It had happened so fast, Inuyasha didn't know what to think. Manten had drove himself into Inuyasha's blade. It wasn't Inuyasha's fault; Manten had skewered himself. All Inuyasha knew was that he had killed another family member. He broke the rules. Inuyasha rounded a corner and unexpectedly confronted his Father, the man with the black hair. The man's large black eyes loomed painfully over Inuyasha's small frame. Inuyasha's hands shook.
"Is it true, Inuyasha? You killed a boy?"
Inuyasha's body was consumed with fear and panic. He knew Father would be furious. Inuyasha knew the rules better than anyone did. He parted his lips, but his voice was gone. It was stuck in his belly. The man with the black hair didn't say a word more to Inuyasha while he walked around the child, the boy he had rescued two years ago.
Inuyasha's entire body shaking, he spun on his heel, tears dropping from his eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I didn't mean to!"
"He bled you," was the man's reply, his words venomous. The statement was so shocking it caused Inuyasha to look down at his stomach.
When he had driven his blade into Manten's side in self-defence, Inuyasha was so distracted he hadn't realized Manten's dagger had incised Inuyasha's hip. Inuyasha rashly covered the bleeding wound with his hand.
"I beat him, Father," Inuyasha tried to reason. "I bled him first. I bled three boys today. I'm a kobun now, Father. I wanted to make you proud."
The man's back was turned to Inuyasha, his hand gripping tightly to the door handle to enter the part of the dojo where the boys had fought.
"You're a disgrace, Inuyasha," his dark tone seethed. Malice dripped from every heavily punctuated word.
"Father," Inuyasha mumbled, his heart hammering sombrely. "I—"
"—No kobun of mine shall be allowed to bring such dishonour."
"I'm sorry, Father," Inuyasha cried, dropping to his knees. "I didn't mean to kill the boy, I—"
"You think, Inuyasha, I care that you killed him?" The man spat, spinning on his heel. His eyes were wide with fury. "How many boys do you think have died in there? How many do you think I killed in my training? Dozens."
Inuyasha was speechless as he squeezed his eyes tightly, angry at himself for how easily the tears fell. He opened his mouth to whisper another apology but the man with the black hair kept speaking. Straightening his back, the man looked down furiously at Inuyasha's small, gangly form.
"No kobun of mine shall ever bleed. You have proven yourself today a failure, Inuyasha, not a kobun. You are weak, and the sight of your blood brings me shame. Get out of my sight."
The man with black hair disappeared from Inuyasha's teary vision and the eight-year-old once again became a child. Looking down at his bleeding midriff, Inuyasha never felt such hate for himself before. He was weak. He was worthless. How could the head of the house's son be such a pathetic weakling?
As the door opened in front of Inuyasha, and his father's body disappeared through it, he heard the fear in the voices of those who greeted his Father.
"Naraku!" one of the men gasped as he positioned his body in front of the child's corpse. "I can explain!"
"Silence," Inuyasha's adopted father hissed, his eyes lowering to the hulking mass of flesh lying on the ground. "What are you idiots waiting for? Dispose of that child's body, immediately."
"Yes, sir, I—"
"—When the task is complete, Musō," Naraku murmured, "go claim my failure of a son, Inuyasha, and make him clean up this mess. He shall go with no food or drink until this dojo holds no trace of blood after today's initiation. Am I clear?"
"Sir, that'll take him days," Musō stuttered. "At least four rooms held initiations today, I—"
Naraku narrowed his eyes to silence the man, and others looked upon the speaker fearfully, incredulously; they couldn't believe this fool had the audacity and stupidity to disobey or challenge the leader. They knew what happened to the defiant.
"Goshinki."
"Yes, sir," another man spoke up quickly, frightfully.
"Take our brother, Musō, and lock him up. When Inuyasha has completed his task in the dojo, have him prepare a Burning Ritual." Naraku's eyes blackened with menace while the defiant man broke down into tears, begging Naraku's forgiveness. Naraku's face transformed into a darkened sneer; above all else, he abhorred pleading.
"Inuyasha will lead the ritual."
Goshinki wanted to open his mouth to argue that Inuyasha was too young to take the lead in the Burning Ritual; however, Goshinki knew the consequences of talking back to the oyabun. Simply bowing his head in respect, Goshinki accepted the assignments given him.
Having overheard the conversation through the opened door, Inuyasha stood in the hallway and wiped his cheeks. As Musō began to scream when two other men grabbed his arms, Inuyasha turned on his heel. Shame and guilt consuming him, he headed for the room he shared with eight other boys. He didn't know what a Burning Ritual was, but he hoped one of the other boys would.
Naraku's hands painfully held Inuyasha's face forward as tears helplessly poured from the eight-year-old's eyes. The smell of burning flesh stung his nostrils, and his head throbbed horribly with the man's resonating screams and pleas for help. Inuyasha was forced to stand so close to the pyre the smoke billowing from the wood and flesh caused his eyes to sting. Inuyasha's forehead ached with the intensity of his scowl as he tried to flee the sickly sweet and acidic smell of blackening skin.
Goshinki had provided Inuyasha with the instructions on how to bound Musō's hands and feet so he wouldn't be able to escape. As Inuyasha went about the task—his earlier shame and current fear of disobeying his father forcing him into action—the man had bent his head down to Inuyasha, begging the boy. "Don't be like your Father," he had pleaded. Musō begged Inuyasha to be merciful and let him go; however, Goshinki cracked the man over the head with the butt of his gun to silence him. Unfortunately, for Inuyasha, the man continued to cry as Inuyasha finished bounding his feet to the wooden post. Inuyasha didn't dare speak a single word.
"Light the match, Inuyasha," Naraku had coolly instructed from behind Inuyasha, his hands drawn behind his back. Frightfully aware that the whole family was watching, Inuyasha had wasted four matches in his attempts before finally having a flame catch. His hands shook uncontrollably.
"Good," Naraku cooed, placing his hands on Inuyasha's shoulders. "Now. Drop it at his feet."
"Naraku, please!" Musō begged, his sobs preventing the clarity of his words. "I didn't mean to—"
"Now! Inuyasha!" Naraku shouted, his voice piercing and urgent. He couldn't stomach one more plea from the man's lips.
Inuyasha flinched as an apologetic tear trickled down his cheek. He found himself unable to look away from Musō's eyes as Inuyasha approached him. He cupped his hand around the flame protectively, afraid for what his father would do should it go out.
"Child, please," the man pleaded. "Don't do this."
Inuyasha almost thought about opening his mouth to apologize to the man; however, fear prevented him from doing so. Mentally apologizing to Musō—and hoping the thought was enough—Inuyasha tossed the match into the kindling between Musō's feet. Inuyasha turned his back to the man as he began to scream.
A sobbing Inuyasha tried to walk past his father; after all, he had blistered his hands from building the pyre and now he was the executioner. He thought he had done more than enough. However, Naraku painfully gripped Inuyasha's bicep in his claw-like grip, preventing the child from leaving.
"As the Ritual Leader, you are responsible for disposing of the body and ash once the ritual is complete. You will stay here, my son."
Inuyasha's heart trembled as he stopped and turned to face his father, his face red and eyes stinging from the sounds of the man's pained screams.
"Look at him, Inuyasha," Naraku ordered. "Watch Musō."
When Inuyasha couldn't find the strength to turn his head, Naraku gripped the sides of his face painfully and forced his head upwards to watch Musō being burned alive.
"Never forget, Inuyasha," Naraku cooed, his tone laced with delight as the fire caused the man's skin to blister and blacken. "The Burning Ritual cleanses a man of his weakness. To be fully integrated into our family, one cannot have weakness.
"Should you bring disgrace to your oyabun again, Inuyasha, you will not find yourself the Ritual Leader next time, do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
"Yes, Father," Inuyasha squeaked, his voice tense. His eyes glimpsing over to Musō, Inuyasha never wanted to imagine the type of pain that man experienced.
"Good," Naraku sighed, his eyes narrowing upon Musō's lifeless, white eyes. "Abandon all weakness, Inuyasha, for weakness is what causes a man to disobey. And should you disobey," he paused, "the fire will be the only thing left to cleanse you."
Inuyasha woke with a start, a scream leaving his parted lips as he flung his body upright. Sweat caused his tank top to stick to the small of his back as beads of sweat dripped from the bridge of his nose and temple. Panting, Inuyasha ran a hand through his hair, then covered his face with his palms.
It was a nightmare. It was just a bad dream, he chanted to himself.
He hadn't had those dreams in years; however, his lived reality had felt so real in his dream that Inuyasha swore he could still sense the burning scent of flesh in his nostrils. Musō hadn't been the only one for whom Inuyasha had been the Ritual Leader; however, he was the first. This wasn't the first time Musō's fate haunted Inuyasha's dreams. However, it was the first time he had had a nightmare in years.
"Inuyasha?"
His scream had woken Kagome as well and she sat up in bed beside him, unsure how she could comfort him. His sweat was very noticeable in the premature sunrays, and Kagome could make out the damp outline of where his body had been laying.
"I'm alright, Kagome," he panted, trying to control his breathing. "It was just a bad dream."
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, placing a hesitant hand on his back. Feeling the dampness of his shirt, she immediately withdrew her hand. She couldn't imagine what he had dreamt of to cause him this much panic.
"No," he said, pushing the covers off his body and swinging his legs off the bed. "I'm gonna go have a shower. Sorry for waking you, Kagome. Go back to sleep."
Kagome watched him with a pained expression as he rounded the bed and made for the door.
"Are you sure you're okay, Inuyasha?" she asked once more. Kagome hadn't realized that the strap of her nightgown had fallen and she was quick to put it back in place before it should reveal too much skin to Inuyasha.
His hand on the doorknob, Inuyasha offered her a small, apologetic smile before nodding his head.
"I'll be fine. Go back to sleep, Kagome."
However, once he was gone from her room and the door had been closed, Kagome knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Especially since she was awake before Inuyasha woke up screaming. Kagome sighed and fingered some sleep from the corner of her eyes while she tried to understand what had just happened. Once she and Inuyasha had gone to sleep, Kagome found it hard to snooze while Inuyasha tossed and turned violently throughout the night. She had even overheard him muttering a few incoherent sentences in his slumber.
Kagome felt her heart beating frantically while her eyes searched the duvet for the answers she desperately wanted. What had he been dreaming about? And why did he say, "I'm sorry, Musō" before he woke up screaming?
Who is Musō?
Author's Note
Inuyasha's past and the Family is starting to unwind! Sorry for the relatively shorter chapter. It just felt right to end things here. There is so much more on the way. Hang in there! XD
As well, a million, billion hugs to all of you who are frequently reviewing. And for those of you who have favourited and followed the story, my heart is yours. You guys are so fantastic. Thanks for taking such an interest in my story! I'm behind thrilled you're enjoying it so far.
Also, there were two words used in this chapter that I didn't define for you: "oyabun" and "kobun." I promise I'll get into that in a later chapter; however, if you feel impatient, feel free to look them up yourself, haha. Just don't ruin the surprise for anyone else :P