The Sound of Snow

Chapter Nine: "The Baker"

Before the humdrum of whispered voices around became too stifling, one cheery voice popped out of the blur. Ryuuji-san stood behind him looking at a glass case of ancient tribal masks, beside her was her father, whom The Boy hardly recognized – he was in a normal winter coat, not his rich work suit as usual. Turning his back to them and burying his face in his notes, The Boy tuned in, watching over his shoulder – taking care she didn't notice him or his ugly welted eye – as the girl grasped her father's hand with a smile and they stepped to the next viewing case. Regardless what he told himself, a lonely heart craves relationship and human attention, even if it has to get that fix from a secondhand source:

The elder Ryuuji inquired about his daughter's grades in the esteemed but not unfriendly tone which their family was known for.

"They've stayed up pretty well, Papa." Said Ryuuji-san softly, "Except... humanities."

Her face was turned from The Boy but her voice sounded like she was frowning. The Boy couldn't remember seeing anything but a smile on her lips.

"Don't look like that, princess." said her father as he gently tugged her chin back up to a more flattering posture, "We'll find a way to get them back up to match the rest."

"Kinouma- sensei said I could retake the test but... I won't stay at the top of my class like this."

"Don't worry." Her father said more firmly. "Your mother and I have some money set aside; we'll get you a tutor. I know how hard it is to struggle with a new subject." The man chuckled with a notable gleam in his eye, "And I only want the best experience for my favorite daughter."

The youth giggled and reminded him she was his only daughter, to which he replied he had all the more reason to spend time and money on her.

After a pause the girl said solemnly, "I just...don't want to disappoint anyone."

"You never do." He smiled and bopped her nose with a finger. "You take after your old man too much for that."

Ryuuji-san laid her head on her father's arm and walked on with him like that, like she couldn't feel more comfortable anywhere else in the world.

"...Must be nice to have a dad who..."

The Boy wasn't sure how he wanted to finish that uncomfortable thought, so he threw it away entirely. No use wishing for things he could never have or even deserve.

After all, he'd already sabotaged the perfectly good motives of one parent working hard to try to convince the court to let them be together... If only stupid little eight-year-old him hadn't thought it was a good idea to write to her without asking Dad, that he could pull off that trick the rest of his life and not get caught. Before it was just his father that told her not to come around, but now thanks to The naïve Boy she had a strict new restraining order to deal with. Thanks to The naïve Boy she might keep working for years in vain. Or maybe she'd already given up by now. If she did he'd never know.

Still, bouncing the drawstring bag on his wrist, an idea popped into his brain thinking of what he had to work with in the parent he did have left. Normally the bag being half full as it was now meant he was done collecting. Dad would be satisfied when he got home but... sometimes he got in a better mood when The Boy brought home a bigger haul. What if the bag was really half empty? So, after an hour at the museum with envy for the Ryuujis still fresh in his core, The Boy prepared to do his father proud or die finding out if such a feat was possible.

Stealing, pick-pocketing, and doing everything in between all the way home, he found that thieving by choice instead of necessity was addicting. Greed took over, the thought of Dad praising him for going the extra mile fueling him to continue searching every nook and cranny of the suburban sect. When his avarice had just about filled his bag to the bursting point, he went for more still.