The first time Akashi Seijuro realized how futile the emotion called fear was during a trip he had with his mother when he was only 7 years old.
Back then, he was never truly afraid of anything.
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In an amusement park in Tokyo, the mother and son had a simple day out. Due to the nature of his father's business, going on and off at the country's capital was already a habit to the family. The fact that the head office of their company was also situated in Tokyo made this possible.
Some days when they were at the area, Akashi Shiori would casually bring Seijuro to some famous places meant for kids, like the Amusement Park.
Since Halloween was celebrated that time, she decided that it would be a good opportunity to bring the boy. It would also be a good change of atmosphere from the hectic studying that her son was having back at home.
While strolling inside, Seijuro suddenly paused his pace in front of a certain booth. It was a bit unusual, he thought. What were those masks doing there? It looked awful. The boy frowned.
One woman suddenly came out from the same booth, and made a peek-a-boo.
Seijuro winced only a little, that time, his fingers that were still slender and small, quickly gripped tightly to his mother's hand upon surprised.
Nevertheless, he remained still.
"What is it?" Shiori whispered. The gentle voice that she always had in her tone reminded the boy that there was nothing to be scared about.
So he recomposed his self and looked at the woman in his front. The stranger was wearing a long ragged white dress that had some red stains all over it. Her face, if it was in the eyes of a child, would be scary. There were like fresh wounds and bloody tears in the corner of her eyes, the make up artist that did it made a splendid job because it looked realistic.
Shiori knew her son too well. He liked to pretend brave and unfazed even though he was actually trembling in fear. Her husband never failed to remind him how he must act and carry his self all the time but she understood that Seijuro was only and still a child so it should be fine if he would be afraid of something such as this. Honestly, she liked Seijuro to experience natural moments like this.
She laughed, like the chirping of birds in one beautiful morning, it lightened the boy's senses.
"My dear, that is just a product of make up, and she is only wearing a costume."
"I know that very well mother." he mumbled, yet Shiori noticed how the boy suddenly loosened the grip from her hand upon that remark.
At that moment, Seijuro was reminded again. With her, nothing would be scary.
The woman in a white-lady costume pulled her head back and as if a sudden 'cut' from the director was shouted, she dropped the act and smiled normally. "Heh, your son is cool! Other kids would be crying and shouting 'Mommy!' when they see me."
Shiori covered her mouth and laughed. "He would."
"I don't." Interrupted by the kid.
"Ohhh…" The lady was amazed, completely buying the strong and collective aura that the boy was giving. "Why don't you try our horror house then, boy?"
Shiori blinked towards her son. "Hmm, What about that?"
Seijuro stared at the lady.
Did he really have to? But the lady was waiting for his answer.
If he refused, would that be fine?
He looked up at the face of his mother. She was looking at him as if she knew that he could definitely do it if he wanted. His mother believed in him. Or even if he didn't, it would be okay too. "I'll come as well."
In that case, there should be nothing to fear, he thought.
He nodded, put his hand down and faced the lady in disguised with a firm look.
The lady grinned, "Heh...Heh...very interesting. Enjoy yourselves then..."
Inside the dark room, he tried to hide or silence every little squeak that wanted to escape his mouth whenever something appeared and popped out either from his sides or above his head.
He also had to force his legs to walk around the horror house. The creepy vibration sounds in the background made it worst even more. It felt like he was actually inside a horror movie even though he had never seen one. More like, Seijuro didn't have time for such, but he knew its existence from the books he read.
This experience was his first, why no one told him it would be this scary? However, every time he thought he would lose it, when he thought his knees would betray him, it was then that he would feel the soft hands of his mother touching him. Right then, he'd be assured that everything around was staged and unreal.
There was really nothing to be scared about. After all, there was a hand he could hold on, there was someone behind watching over him.
"Did you enjoy that?"
Seijuro nodded without hesitation, completely disregarding the torture-like experience he just had.
He enjoyed everything as long as she would be with him.
Everything, be it as a simple drinking of tea in their garden or a horror house. He would surely enjoy it without fail.
After all, what was there to fear? Such emotion would be meaningless if she was around.
He thought and believed that for so long, thinking it would never change.
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Yet, he didn't expect a day would come where he'd lost that warmth.
On that particular day under a gray sky, something he had never given an attention before, when the whole day was engulfed by a seemingly endless rain, he lost her.
Before, a day like this could easily turned into a bright cheerful day all because of her presence.
It all happened in just a glimpse of the moment, when he was unprepared and unaware of what was behind the gentle and reassuring smile of his mother.
He was standing beside his father, wearing a completely black clothing. He knew he wasn't in a horror house because there was no creepy sound effects at the background, only silence. And that instead of fake cobwebs and scraps, there were beautiful and white flowers all over the surface of one stone where the name of his mother was engraved. There was no need for any props to emphasize the atmosphere, the sky as it cried was enough.
His mind was blank and dark, as if there was a wall, disrupting the flow of his thoughts. He looked at his front where the rain dripped so hard at the stone tomb.
When they headed back, it only became worst. Something was different. Everywhere was dark and everyone was in low spirit.
He went to his room.
The usual greetings of welcome home and smile were gone. His mother's presence around the place felt like a false memory.
He glanced behind and looked in the direction of the door.
Despite the unchanging silence and the fact that the door didn't seem to have opened, he was expecting to see someone yet there was none.
His eyes travelled around. It was all the same except the absence of his mother.
He used to study in a silent room yet never once did he experience this deafening atmosphere.
He noticed his fingers trembling. Was he feeling fear? He couldn't say for sure. He had always known that there was no such thing.
Seijuro shifted to look at his study table. There was an unfinished note and opened book at the top. He recalled writing something at that time, while his mother sat beside him, reading his lesson. He could still see the smudges of eraser that she created when she pointed out one wrong answer that he purposely did just so he could get her attention.
Somehow, everything before this day seemed like a dream.
In the end, he let his body fell on the bed as he curled his body.
He closed his eyes. Suddenly, the darkness he saw felt familiar. His emotions were in disarray, he could feel so much in the inside but he didn't know which one was greater. There was sadness, anger, frustration, shock, and the feeling of needing to contain it all and stabilize his self.
Couple of days had passed. He hadn't yet touched the last piece of paper on top of his desk. The boy was just quietly staring outside his window, lost in thoughts.
All of a sudden, he heard the opening of the door.
"Seijuro"
The boy had never forgotten how he must react in front of his own father at all times. It came out as a natural reflex when he stood up firmly to acknowledge and greet his father.
"What are you doing?" Akashi Masaomi asked, crossed arms, while gazing at the figure of the boy.
Seijuro's eyes were directed at the feet of his father.
His thoughts were blank.
"…"
"…"
"Shiori is gone."
Like being pierced on and on, the words of his father were like daggers sending shivers all over his body.
He knew that.
He knew that very well.
But hearing it was harder than he thought it would be.
He remained silent.
"I know it is hard for you."
What would he know about him? Not when almost all his life, it was his mother that was with him.
Masaomi walked forward near the study table of his son, only scanning the surface with his eyes. "I see." He said, as if he understood what was going on for days inside the room. The books on top of the desk were the ones that Shiori mentioned to him the day before she died. Therefore, he knew that this desk had never been touched since then.
He picked up the book and briefly scanned the contents. In the process of lifting, the older male didn't realize that he had touched the piece of paper that Seijuro was trying to keep in place.
The boy could only watch as it fell on the ground. The residue of the eraser completely disappeared. It was gone. The last thing she did inside this room, with him, was gone.
His eyes trembled. He wanted to pick up the paper. But before he could take one step, he was interrupted by a deep sigh, produced by his father.
Masaomi placed the book back at the desk. Seijuro widened his eyes for a second. He could only watch as the set up on top of his table changed. It wasn't his mother's doing anymore. The last person who used that book wasn't his mother anymore. That was not how his mother left the desk, that was not how his mother positioned that book, he remembered it being opened on page…what page was it again? It was the one where he remembered her laughing because he got the pronunciation a little different.
His hands were shaking, it felt so sad to see the last sign of her on the ground and yet he couldn't even cry.
"I hired a private tutor that will teach you in place of Shiori. I believe she will be here tomorrow so could you fix your desk and arrange your notes?"
In place?
How could he say that easily?
He bit his lips at first, "Mother is my mentor—"
"Shiori is gone." He repeated. "There's no easier way to say this. It's just how life works; people die and leave."
He didn't speak.
"You must know how to get up and move on, Seijuro."
To that, his father left.
As time passed by, his workload seemed to be getting more and more intense. Every day, each lesson was upgraded. To ask wasn't an option, in fact, he could but it would only be futile because nothing would change.
There were times when all he could ever think about was the contents of the book he had been reading. Sometimes, he would find his self not thinking about his mother anymore to which he would immediately brush off. He wanted to remember her at all times, that was what he convinced his self. However, there were some instances that in the depth of his mind, there was a voice that was instructing him to leave all unnecessary things and the memories of someone who was already gone.
—Such weakness...
The words would echo in his mind, like a struck of lightning passing through his brain, wondering where it even came from, why did he hear it?
—A man from the Akashi family must excel in all fields.
—And yet, you're weak.
Silence
—The victor is acknowledged and the weak is disavowed.
—Soon, you'd be.
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He used to believe that there was nothing to fear about.
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.
.
No.
It just wasn't the case anymore.
Because… there was.
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His eyes finally opened.
A blurry image of the familiar ceiling in his room greeted him.
On top of his forehead, he felt a soft warm fabric.
"You were sweating a lot." A voice said.
He shifted his eyes at the corner and blinked.
"Were you dreaming again?"
The way she added that word… Again…. Like she even knew what happened.
Hotaru took the fabric away from his forehead as she folded it properly on top of her lap.
"It's fine." Seijuro mumbled while watching the subtle swaying of her black hair as she did the folding.
He sat up and removed the cover on top of his body in the process.
He hadn't dreamt of that for a long time.
Akashi looked at her. The girl stood up and arranged some flowers beside his bed. This was not the first time that he woke up with her already inside his room. It had been like this from the very start. The only thing that changed was how she used to be more talkative. That sometimes he would be awakened by the loudness of her voice, greeting him in the form of a song as to how good the morning was.
Nevertheless, the redhead went off of his bed and proceeded to fix his self. Another day of the usual routine was about to commence.
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