when you wake up | sunki

seven.

"Okay, it's time for you to explain now," Sunoo says, opening his notebook again the next night. "Nakagawa-kai. What is it?"

Riki's expression bears some surprise, as if he didn't expect Sunoo's words, but the older boy supposes it makes sense. Riki doesn't remember telling him about it, after all.

"It'll be a long story tonight," he says finally. "Here we go."

─

"We're home!"

Riki slides down from his bed, still in his pajamas, running for the door at the sound of the voices.

"Mom, Dad!"

"Don't touch Mom right now, come give Dad a hug?" his father offers, kneeling to match Riki's height and opening his arms. "You didn't sleep?"

"I couldn't sleep without seeing you come home," the boy says quietly, looking down. "Konon fell asleep, but I had to wait."

"We're both home safe now," his mother says softly. "Go and rest, Riki, okay? Mom and Dad still have things to do."

Riki doesn't question the crimson that stains his parents' jackets and decorates the crown of their knuckles, nor does he question why his mother is walking with a limp tonight. These things are normal in his family, and all he asks for is to see his parents home safe every night.

─

"My parents were part of the upper echelon of the Nakagawa-kai," he continues, "a yakuza family from Okayama, where I was born. They were important, I suppose. They were always out on missions when my sister and I were young. My mother called them adventures, but as we grew up Konon and I both knew what they really were. We didn't mind it, though. The rest of the Nakagawa-kai took care of us when my parents were busy, and it was the only life we ever knew. The yakuza have a strict moral code they follow; we don't commit indiscriminate crime. They upheld their values, and they taught me to uphold mine."

Sunoo nods, processing everything he just heard. "Why did your family move away from Japan?"

"My parents grew up with the yakuza," Riki answers. "They didn't want us to have to do the same. They moved us away from Okayama when I was twelve, and we came here. It's been more than three years since then. The Nakagawa-kai were kind to my parents. Yakuza tradition dictates that all defectors have to cut off their last finger when they leave, but they didn't make my parents do that. They knew my Mom and Dad wanted Konon and I to grow up well, and if we wanted to, we would one day return to the yakuza. Not because we were born into it, but because we wanted to."

"Do you think you'll go back?" Sunoo questions, and Riki shakes his head slowly.

"Not yet. There are things I need to do before I can return," he says. "My parents and my sister were murdered, Sunoo. The car accident wasn't an accident. My best guess is we were targeted as a revenge kill for another family from Okayama, but I can't remember anything. My mind must have blocked some memories out the night of the accident, but until I find the stronghold of the family and burn it down to the ground, I will not show my face to the Nakagawa-kai. It is the least I should do for what they did to my family."

"The yakuza are scary," is all Sunoo has to answer. "Is this how everything works in your world?"

"It's not as far off as you think it is," Riki says, with a soft smile. "Blood will always be repaid by blood. It is our way of honoring those who died so we could live."

"I understand that," Sunoo says, and he sits back. "So the accident wasn't an accident, there was a hit put on your family and your parents died for it."

"Yes, and about my curfew," the younger boy brings up, as if he's suddenly recalled it. "The impact didn't kill me, but it damaged some part of my brain that stores memory. Every day at 00:57 I lose consciousness, just like I did on the day of the accident, and I wake up the next day with the past 24 hours lost to me. It's been like this for a while now. There's not much the doctors seem to be able to do to fix it."

"I see," Sunoo says, and the pieces fall into place. "No wonder you ask me for my name every night when I meet you."

They let the silence hang. Riki knows Sunoo needs to process, and he gives the older boy space.

"Is there a reason you come to the rooftop every night, then?"

Riki gives Sunoo a glance, and a bitter smile crosses his face. "My sister liked coming here at night. I come up here to forget that she's gone, and sometimes it works."

"That was oddly sweet," Sunoo says. "You must have been close. I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's alright," Riki says. "You being here makes a difference, you remind me there are things more important than me in this world I should stay for. That's all I could ask."

"Then, I will be here every midnight," Sunoo promises. "I will find you here every night, and I will remind you about all the things you should stay for."

"You'll do that?"

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, Riki."