The things I do for you people...
Hello! It is almost 3 am but I was determined to finish this chapter today because reasons. So yeah. Here I am.
I thank you all for waiting, I didn't let three weeks go by this time so I guess that counts as a victory? Well, I hope so. Anyway, time to answer some reviews!
To TheSilverHunt3r: Me too my dude. Me too.
To agirlwithgoodergrammar: Did... Did you literally almost correctly guess the epilogue I was planning to do? Because I was most definitely going to do a little epilogue where they've grown up. 500 brownie points to you, girl! *gives you a gold star*
To the guest Xion: I AM ACTUALLY DYING FROM THIS LONG ASS REVIEW HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?! I am so happy you made this review because it made my entire week reading your reactions to my two previous chapters. I'm so flattered you liked them! And thank you for telling me what flowers and coffin you wanted for your funeral. I will get onto ordering an Akashi coffin immediately. Please do prepare your life support. (Also thank you for actually giving me a hell yeah I laughed so hard when I read that.)
Anyway, prepare yourselves for a feels roller coaster. Don't say I didn't warn you!
Enjoy!
Chapter 15
Masaomi sighed as he sat down in a chair near the entrance of their garden. He had been holed up in his office for six hours doing nothing but sorting out paperwork and taking phone calls with business partners. After finally ending the last call and putting his pen down, he took the first chance he got to take a short break. He immediately exited his office and made his way straight outside, where he sat down in one of the seats there. Once the butler had come around with a cup of tea for him, he was left to sit out in the garden in peace. Taking a long sip of the tea, he revered in its calming flavor and allowed his drink to warm him from the inside.
He always came out to the garden to wind down; if it was too cold, he'd sit by the window and stare out into the garden instead. It was something that Masaomi always did, so he could temporarily relieve himself of his duties. It was one of the only times a day he truly had to himself.
At this point in time, it had almost been two weeks since his son left for school. The halfway mark should be coming up in a few days. As soon as Akashi had left, many things had begun to change in the house. Left with his peculiar other self, Masaomi could admit, he was intrigued about the situation. Not enough to think about it for more than five minutes at a time—he was too busy for that— but every time he saw the boy, he couldn't help but wonder about him. Ever since Akashi left, Bokushi had been spending more and more time out of the house. To that Midorima boy's house, the man recalled.
Bokushi, more often than not, was going out to his house to spend time with his new friend that he had informed him about. At least twice a week now, when Masaomi asked him what he did all day, the boy would tell him that he spent his day at their house. The last time they talked the night before during dinner, Bokushi had told him that he was currently teaching the girl basketball. He, of course, felt the need to bluntly point out that she initially made a lot of mistakes, but then told him that she was making progress, more than he expected. Masaomi at the time had just nodded his head and replied with his usual "I see" before going back to his food.
Masaomi, going by the knowledge he already had about his son's condition, assumed Bokushi was the colder personality. But it seemed like that was not the case. He suspected that he too was also changing in not only the time he spent together with Akashi, but in the time they were currently spending apart. Through their short conversations at the dinner tables, Bokushi seems to enjoy his time socializing with the friends he currently has. And even he on occasion was a bit expressive. Albeit less than Akashi, but still expressive. While there were some things he knew, there were still some things that he didn't know, such as what happened in order for this 'other self' to switch with the original Akashi in the first place, or why they switched again after two years. While he understood the big picture, he still had missing information. What really was this boy to his son?
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door to the back slide open. Masaomi did not bother to turn his head, expecting it to be a staff member, but it wasn't. Because when the footsteps got closer and closer, they stopped behind where he was sitting and a child's voice cut through the air.
"Good afternoon, father."
Masaomi blinked, frowning at the unexpected voice before turning around to find Bokushi standing there. He was staring up at him, heterochromatic gaze and all, holding that horse plush toy he often sees him carrying around. Bokushi's expression was expectant, waiting for his father to answer back. The middle-aged man nodded at the young boy.
"Good afternoon," he answered back. "Was there something you wanted me for?"
"No," Bokushi replied. "I came to sit down if you do not mind my being here."
"Do as you like." Masaomi gestured to the chair next to his. "Have a seat."
Bokushi managed to get onto the chair and get himself settled before proceeding to stare out into the garden with an impassive expression on his face. Masaomi momentarily glanced at him from the corners of his eyes. It was fascinating how both Bokushi and himself both have the habit of staring out into the garden when they have time on their hands. Well, like father like son.
"What brings you out into the garden at this time?" the man asked. Bokushi shrugged.
"I was originally in the library, but it was getting a bit stuffy, and so I decided to come out here."
"You are not going to spend the day at the Midorima household?"
"Miyoko has, unfortunately, come down with a fever, and since yesterday she has been bedridden. Perhaps when her symptoms subside I will call to see if she's recovering properly."
"I see. It would be a shame if her illness persisted."
"Indeed."
They both fell silent for a few minutes, neither seeing the necessity of carrying on the conversation for more than it needed to. Both of them were content quietly sitting there. While Bokushi was busy in his own little world as he continued to stare into the garden, however, Masaomi began to observe him. As usual, every time this boy was in front of him, his curiosity got the better of him. While, on most days, he tended to suppress this sudden curiosity, now that he was watching him, Masaomi wanted to know what the boy was thinking. After all, a common trait every Akashi shares is the ability to be completely unreadable. Which is why when the silence was broken again, his attention was on the boy, whose eyes were still looking out into space.
"I'm surprised the flowers managed to survive the winter."
Masaomi looked ahead at the flowers that were out in the garden. What a strange thing to comment on. Then again, they were in the garden, so taking about flowers was inevitable.
"It requires extensive knowledge about flowers to know how to keep them alive during the winter," Masaomi responded. "The staff responsible for garden maintenance were adamant on keeping the roses."
"For good reason," said Bokushi. "They're quite pretty. It'd be a pity if they had to get rid of them. Are they planted often?"
"They're in the garden all year." Masaomi paused. "They were Shiori's favorite."
Bokushi hesitated, slightly taken aback at what his father just said, but continued to stare ahead, feeling the air suddenly shift; but it was not in a bad way. The air wasn't tense like it was when it usually shifted, but it was instead something else, something different that Bokushi couldn't place. All he knew was that when his father mentioned his mother, that meant his guard was down. Those moments never came often, and, like a rare gem, it was to be treasured.
"Father..."
The man looked over at the boy, raising a brow in question. "What is it?" he asked him. Bokushi took a deep breath and pushed himself to continue.
"What was mother like?"
The silence that followed wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but when Bokushi looked up at his father, he looked visibly confused. He must not have been expecting me to ask, he thought.
"Were you not once a part of Seijuro?" Masaomi inquired. "You should already know."
"Au contraire, father." Bokushi looked down at Yuki, idly playing with his ears as he talked. "I was a part of him, and we do share experiences. However, whatever I have not been around for, I have no knowledge about. I only came into existence after mother had passed. Any memories from ten years prior, I have no access to."
Masaomi had no idea that this was the nature of Bokushi and his son's relationship. Akashi had seen everything prior to his wife's death, and Bokushi was only aware of the aftermath. He had always assumed that this Bokushi character had known everything, but now that he has been told this new piece of information, it makes perfect sense as to why he wouldn't. But that leaves another question unresolved...
"Why didn't you ask Seijuro this question?"
His son had all the answers to his queries, he had been there the whole time. Why would Bokushi choose now to ask? And why would he ask him of all people? The answer was simple, apparently, because Bokushi didn't miss a beat in answering.
"Because I already know how he feels about her," he said. "I don't know much about her, but I know what she means to Seijuro-nii. There was never a proper time to discuss a topic like this with him, anyway. With this time and this atmosphere, I thought it best to ask you. Although, if you want to hear my main reason for asking you now, it's because I wanted to know how you felt about her. So, with that, allow me to rephrase my previous inquiry." He shifted in his seat, so his whole body was facing his father, his eyes and expression innocent and curious.
"What was mother like to you?"
Masaomi had never been rendered speechless from such a simple question before. Akashi would never have had to ask, which is why he didn't prepare a proper answer. But now here he was, standing face-to-face with a boy who was basically his son, who had just asked him this question. He huffed out a breath of air almost like he was laughing at his current situation.
What a strange set of circumstances I have been put in...
His expression became a bit relaxed as he set down his cup of tea onto the small table between them.
"Very well," he answered. "If you are going to be a part of this household, it would only be fair to tell you everything." He turned his head to look at the sky, eyes distant as he recalled the past.
"I had met her nineteen years ago, at a business function," he began. "She was accompanying her father to the event, who just happened to be in partnership with my own father, so naturally at every function and gala, we always managed to cross paths."
"What were your first impressions of her?" Bokushi asked. Masaomi thought for a minute to dive into his memories that were almost two decades old.
"Kind...polite...ever-smiling... Those were qualities that shaped her personality. She was the complete opposite of me, but, as they say, opposites attract."
"A lot of women in the business world possess those qualities," Bokushi pointed out. "What made her stand out to you?"
Masaomi hadn't really put much thought into this before. What Bokushi said was true, every woman within the business world, whether they owned corporations or were simply housewives of the businessmen he associated with, always held themselves up with an air of dignity and grace, and Shiori was no different. If that was the case, then what was it? What did he see in Shiori that he didn't see in anyone else?
"I suppose..."
Bokushi looked up at the man, tilting his head in interest at what his father was about to say. When he looked into his eyes, however, he saw that they had narrowed in contemplation.
"I suppose it was because she was not afraid of me." Bokushi's eyebrows furrowed, perplexed at his father's reasoning.
"Afraid?" he parroted.
"Yes. Perhaps that was why I was taken with her." Masaomi nodded to himself, satisfied with his answer, and then continued. "As you know, our family name is well-known in the business world. There isn't a single corporation who doesn't know who we are. Even in international waters, the most prestigious and distinguished of businessmen and women would know who I am. As such, when I introduce myself at any type of event, people are automatically intimidated. And yet..." He paused, sounding puzzled all of a sudden. "She was never intimidated by me. And she treated me like a normal individual, never resorting to using honorifics or bowing anytime I was in her vicinity. She showed her true self to me at all times, her emotions unguarded and her expressions genuine. I have dealt with businessmen and women on a daily basis. Most expressions you see on their faces are, more often than not, ingenuine and dishonest. But every time she smiled, I always knew that she meant it."
Even though Akashi inherited the majority of his looks from his mother, he was more like his father than he could even imagine. Both he and his father had even the same distaste for uncomfortable distance with the people they were acquainted with. They both didn't like it when friends (or in Masaomi's case, colleagues) would act like they were some kind of deity in human form. They both wanted to effectively interact with society without intimidating anyone. Bokushi had known about Akashi (because he was always watching Akashi hold back a cringe in the back of his mind every time someone had called him 'Akashi-sama'), but he never imagined his father to be the same way. This was becoming quite the revelation for the boy. During the conversation, his father's voice had considerably softened, and Bokushi had no intention of ruining the mood. He simply nodded, entranced by his father's memories, and allowed him to carry on.
"There was never any tension between us," he said. "The air around her was pleasant, and it seemed like I always ended up spending most of my time with her at all the events whether I had taken notice or not; and the more time we spent around each other, the more enchanted I became by her. It was only a matter of time before I had proposed."
"Were you successful on the first try?"
"A member of the Akashi family must be well-versed in letters and arms, child," the man quipped. "That includes romance."
Bokushi took that as a yes.
"After we had been married for a year, we had Seijuro. It was a snowy morning, that December. I can still remember the way she looked when she held him for the first time..."
He was so far deep in his thoughts, he didn't even realize how much emotion he was actually showing. Not necessarily in his face, but in the tone of his voice. The way it sounded so nostalgic, so soft and quiet as he gazed up at the blue sky. This was a completely new side to Masaomi that not even Akashi had seen. Bokushi wanted to see more of this side, he wanted to ingrain this moment into his memory banks, so he can look back at it for years to come. He wanted his father to keep going.
"What was she like after Seijuro-nii was born?"
"The same as always," Masaomi told him. "She was excited to have her own child to take care of. Shiori was always watching over Seijuro throughout his childhood. Seijuro had started his education from a very young age, and for as long as I can remember, we had tutors come into the house day in and day out to teach him. Shiori was fine with that, but she always emphasized to me the importance of letting him be a child, in a sense, which is why she gave him that basketball. She would never stop talking about how happy he looked that day."
Bokushi could picture a young Akashi looking up at his mother with a smile as bright as the sun itself, gripping the basketball in his hands as if it was the most valuable thing on the planet. It probably was, and still is to Akashi, the most valuable thing on the planet. The ball is still in his room, Bokushi sees it in the corner every time he pays a visit. The physical manifestation of Akashi's happiest memories. An orange basketball from many years ago.
"Were you happy?" Masaomi huffed out a breath of air, considering the answer to this question.
"Happy is not necessarily the word I would use," Masaomi said slowly. "But if that is what you would like to call it, then yes. In a way, I was. Because Shiori was happy, and Seijuro was happy, I was in turn grateful to be in such a peaceful time with the family that I had built. Those were perhaps the most memorable years of my life. But of course, all good things must come to an end..."
Bokushi watched as his father's relaxed expression suddenly faded, his lips curling downwards into a frown, his golden eyes clouding over with an emotion he couldn't fully comprehend.
"It happened so fast," he murmured quietly. "Her illness, I mean. One day she was here, and then the next...she wasn't. And all that time in the hospital, as I watched her life fade into nothingness, I had never felt more useless. There were many things I would like to have said, what I should have said to her, but I didn't. And those regrets still haunt me to this day."
Akashi Masaomi was a man of many achievements, but this is the first time Bokushi has heard about his regrets. An Akashi never makes mistakes. An Akashi never has regrets...so he's been taught. But now he sees that it was all an illusion. This realization sent a shiver down the boy's spine as he thought about the weight of the statement, and the implications that it had. He swallowed.
I wonder what other regrets he has...
"...What did you want to say to her?"
"Many things." Masaomi sighed and leaned back in his seat. His cup of tea rested near the edge of the table, neglected and long forgotten. "But from all of that, I would have liked to say thank you." Bokushi faltered.
"...Thank you?"
Masaomi nodded. "Yes," he said. "I would have wanted to thank her for the time that she was able to give to me. She was perhaps the only person in this world who understood me and accepted me, despite my opposing personality. She gave me—no— she gave both Seijuro and I a reason to appreciate the little things in life and to enjoy every moment. When she passed, it was a dark time in our household; and I admit, painfully, that things were never the same."
The more Masaomi spoke, the more he came to life with each detailed sentence about their families' past. Bokushi had never seen so much emotion in his father's face before. It wasn't that much, he knew that, but the fact that he was even showing emotion at all spoke volumes to the young boy. Without warning, Masaomi's eyes shifted away from the garden and locked on to Bokushi's. In the few seconds that they stared into each other's eyes, Bokushi felt as if time stopped. Not because of the fact that his father was looking at him, but the way he was looking at him. He sat there, unable to move a muscle, under the scrutinizing gaze of his father. Then, all at once, his eyes softened, the lines on his forehead vanished, and his lips were no longer scowling, now a relaxed thin line across his face. He continued to stare, unblinking.
"You look so much like her..." he murmured. "Just like Seijuro."
Bokushi's eyes widened. His father's voice just now sounded so longing. This was not the voice of the man who was only interested in success. This was not the voice of a man who did not care for his son's mental state. This was not the voice of a man who did not tolerate defeat.
This was the voice of a man who was hurting.
This was the voice of a man who is hurting...
This was the voice of Akashi Masaomi.
Bokushi now realized that Shiori meant way more to his father than just good company. He had hidden it under that stoic mask of his for years, but he was absolutely sure that this man really, truly, did love her. The young redheaded boy felt a lurch of pain in his chest before bowing his head, catching his father off guard.
"I apologize," said Bokushi. "It must be difficult for you to look at us because we look so much like her. I wasn't aware that this was troubling you..."
Why? Why did he feel ashamed? He felt like he couldn't even look his father in the eyes after what he just said. This whole time, he had been making him out to be such a horrible father but didn't even think for a minute how his father felt about his mother's death, what feelings he had been keeping to himself, what feelings he had hidden away. He may have misunderstood his father a bit.
He didn't know what his father was going to say, not after he just up and apologized out of nowhere. He was afraid to even check to see what kind of face his father was making. Until his father finally spoke, that is.
"Do not apologize."
The young boy looked up to see that his father's face was nothing like he imagined. His expression was firm and his voice was stern like he was back to his usual self, but not quite. He was back to having a stare-down with Bokushi, and the young boy felt like he had somehow done something wrong. He blinked.
"I shouldn't?"
"No. After all, there is nothing to apologize for. It is true that both you and Seijuro remind me of Shiori, and every time I look at you, I am reminded of that loss. However, I think I prefer it this way." Bokushi cocked his head to the side, not understanding his father's words.
"I'm sorry...but I don't know what you mean." Masaomi sighed letting his eyes fall shut momentarily.
"Losing Shiori was the biggest setback this family had ever experienced. The hallways in the house felt emptier than ever, the silence quieter, and sitting down to dinner was always a reminder that someone was missing. But..." He opened his eyes again and Bokushi could sense the air shift again. The air was thick and heavy, and he found himself holding his breath.
"When I look into your eyes or Seijuro's, I see the woman that I married as if she had never passed. I realize now that Shiori is not gone. She is alive, and she lives on in the both of you."
To say that Bokushi was frozen in place was an understatement. This was the first time someone had ever seen him in this light. His heterochromatic eyes, the ones that differentiated him from the original Akashi; the ones he used to intimidate, to threaten, and to bring people to their knees...how can that be possible? How can his father see Shiori in those once cold and uncaring eyes?
Bokushi had always regarded himself as something that should have never existed, but he now sees that he serves as a memory himself of those peaceful times in the Akashi household. All this time he was regarded as nothing more than a defense mechanism, a manifestation of Akashi's weakness, but he was much more than that. Within him and within Akashi as well, was a part of Shiori that never died. And there were so many different emotions Bokushi was feeling at the moment knowing that his father could associate him with someone so precious to him. His eyes widened, a flush of red beginning to creep onto his face.
If father associates me with someone precious, then does that mean I am also...?
He took a shaky breath.
"Um...Father..."
Masaomi raised a brow when he was called, looking down at the young boy in front of him.
"What is it, child?"
Bokushi hesitated, feeling his father eyes burning holes into his head, but pushed himself to continue, slowly opening his mouth.
"I..."
Suddenly, the door to the entrance of the garden slid open and the butler walked briskly over to where the two were sat.
"Good day," he greeted. "I apologize for the intrusion but the driver has come to take you to your meeting, Akashi-sama." Masaomi frowned, looking at the time on his watch and raising his eyebrows when he saw the time.
"Ah," he said. "It seems I have overstayed my welcome. I had not been keeping track of time. Tell the driver I will be ready in a few minutes."
"Yes, sir."'
Masaomi began to walk away, leaving Bokushi staring after him from his chair. Halfway to the door, however, he stopped and turned around to the boy, his face even and his voice level.
"I shall be back later," he said. Bokushi, still dumbfounded how quickly he went back to normal, simply nodded, unable to verbally respond. Once Masaomi saw that he understood, he continued to walk over to the door and then vanished inside the house, the butler politely excusing himself and trailing after. Bokushi was left alone in the garden.
He sat there for a few moments, staring blankly into space until his body decided to finally move and he slowly slid himself off the chair. He couldn't even think at the moment. His mind was flooded with so many thoughts and questions that it all just sounded like white noise to him. He had just seen a side to his father that no one had ever seen before, and he had never been more amazed in his entire life.
What did all of this mean? Bokushi was so sure that is father hated his very existence the minute he stepped into the house. But now he wasn't so sure. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. Was there more to his father's personality? Was this his true self? He couldn't say. But as he walked back towards the door himself, he was able to take away one thing as a light blush formed on his cheeks.
Maybe he likes me after all...
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