Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/832254.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Shugo_Chara!
  Relationship:
      Hinamori_Amu/Tsukiyomi_Ikuto
  Character:
      Hoshina_Utau
  Additional Tags:
      awareness, Child_Abuse, Sexual_Abuse, Physical_Abuse
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-06-06 Completed: 2013-06-07 Chapters: 70/70 Words: 170861
****** Deafening Silence ******
by ParadiseAvenger
Summary
     If only Amu could be a little better, her parents would stop hurting
     her. Ikuto has to protect his sister at all costs, even that of his
     body. A lot of bad things happen in this world, but can the silence
     be broken? AU. Child abuse and rape. AmuXIkuto.
***** A Storybook Beginning *****
Please, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! The Breaking of Poisonwood by
Paradise Avenger. (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a
slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new
life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when
Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior…
Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we
discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to
his advantage. The Poisonwood—)
                                     X X X
“Once upon a time…”
From the outside, the house didn’t look so bad. The white paint had long ago
turned yellow and the flowerboxes beneath the windows were filled with twigs
and leaves. The porch had a few rotten boards but the railing was strong. The
windows were washed, framed with lace curtains, and soft homey sounds floated
from inside. The garden was overgrown, but the grass was neatly cut and there
was a child’s wooden swing hanging from a low branch of the pine tree in the
yard. It wasn’t the prettiest house on the block and it wasn’t the best, but it
was home.
“There was a beautiful girl…”
The family that lived in the house wasn’t rich, but they’re weren’t quite poor.
They were comfortably middle-class and, like the house, didn’t look so bad
either. The parents were still married and got along well, having a glass of
wine occasionally with dinner and laughing in the kitchen. The father worked
hard as a photographer for a well-to-do corporation and the mother wrote
magazine articles for the same company. They worked well together. Their lives
were perfect together. They were deeply in love.
“When she was little, all she wanted was to be an actress or a model…”
After a while, the loving young couple started a family. They had two pretty
daughters a few years apart. The first was as lovely as summer—her hair the
color of strawberries and her eyes rich sunny gold and she was forever
pretending. Everyone said that she was beautiful, that she should become a
child star. The second was as cheerful as a nest of sparrows—her hair spun-
honey and her eyes bright gold like her sister’s and her smile lit up the
world. She was often singing and people said that she could be a songstress.
“Then, on the night of her prom, a magical faerie godmother came and granted
all the wishes of her heart…”
Suddenly, the façade of the perfect happy little family shattered. The younger
daughter got sick and she couldn’t be made better—even for all the money in the
world. For five years, the little girl wasted slowly away. The young parents
spent every penny they had on hospital bills and miracle cures, but nothing
helped. The father had to sell his favorite old car and the mother sold the
antique books she had collected since she was a little girl to pay the bills.
To try to help, the older daughter danced for the doctors and nurses.
“She starred in her favorite movie. She met her Prince. She fell in love…”
The family changed after that. There was a way they went about town—heads
bowed, looking like everything in life tasted of ashes, eyes red-rimmed. No one
could blame the parents for suffering, but they still had one daughter left.
They still had their beautiful older child, but it was as if they didn’t see
her and young children couldn’t understand the complexities of adults. The
little girl tried to help by dancing and acting and singing her little sister’s
favorite songs.
“And they lived happily ever after…”
Her efforts did nothing to help her parents. In fact, they did quite the
opposite. The young couple found an outlet for their grief and that grief
became scalding rage. The first time they beat her, she thought she had done
something wrong and she made every effort to never do it again. But even when
she smiled, they saw her little sister’s face in hers and hurt her. Over time,
she accepted that she had done something wrong and accepted what they did to
her. Just as she accepted her little sister’s death.
“Once upon a time, I believed stories like this.”
…
Abuse. Alone in the night. It hurts. It’s your fault, my fault… SHAME! Blame…
Broken bones. Torment. Innocence is stained. Protect, stop, don’t let it…
MURDER! Kill it… Tears. Walls and blood. The sheets are dirty… RAPE! Lost
everything. No friends. Lonely, alone, unstable… SUICIDE! Love. Cuts deep. Fear
and pain. Defenseless, vulnerable… INNOCENT! So why…? Why did it…? Why did it
HAPPEN? Why did it HAPPEN! I was just a CHILD! We were YOUNG! We should have
been able to TRUST you! Why…? Why do things like this keep happening…? WHY…?
…
“Boys do play sports…”
Their house wasn’t a house. It was a mansion—a shockingly beautiful Italian-
style villa. The walls were pale cream-colored stone with bare wood eaves and a
terracotta roof. The paired arched windows glowed with warm amber light and
sheer curtains blew in the soft spring breeze. In the backyard, the pool glowed
like a blue ghost in the darkness of the night. The gazebo was done up with
candied tinsel lights, the garden lovingly tended, and the fountains all aglow
so that everything looked like a fantasy world.
“Boys don’t play violins…”
These parents were vastly different from each other yet somehow had fallen in
love. The mother was on her second marriage. The first, giving her two
beautiful children, was to a famous violinist—now deceased. The second was to
the head of a powerful corporation. As a result, the family had more money than
god and was gifted with everything money could buy. Yet still, there were
things money couldn’t give them, like happiness, miracles, trust, and love.
“Boys will be boys…”
The mother’s oldest child had never quite recovered from his father’s death and
had never come to accept his step-father. The younger daughter’s transition was
much smoother. She had even learned to call him ‘daddy’ like a proper child.
Maybe that was the rift that split between the step-father and step-son—the
death that had happened years before. Either way, it changed things in the
family and slowly destroyed everything that was good.
“Boys are not to act like girls…”
For a while, the mother did what she could. She stood up to her new husband,
sheltering her children. It didn’t matter that his wrath was turned to her in
their place. They were her children and she was going to protect them, no
matter the cost to herself. She was a beautiful and kind and wonderful woman.
Then, the mother died. At least, that’s what the police said… but money could
also buy false justice. Then, there was no one left to protect the children.
“Boys do fight…”
He was the older brother so he had to protect his little sister, just as his
mother had protected them. Even at the greatest, greatest cost to himself. Even
if it destroyed him. Even if it killed him. He would protect her, but what else
could he do? He told himself, he told her, that when he turned eighteen, he
would get them both out of there. He worked, he protected, he worked, he
protected. He hurt… he hurt so badly, but it was something he had to do.
“Boys don’t cry…”
                                     X X X
PLEASE READ: This is a topic that is very close to my heart. I’m very happy
with the way this chapter came out. I was trying to portray the sides of
childhood innocence (fairytales), stereotypes (boys don’t cry), against the
abuse that parents put their children through. I’m trying to work out more
justification for why these things happen than I was able to in my child abuse
story for Kingdom Hearts, Behind the Walls. (But, face it, try to think of a
good reason to hurt someone.) So, wish me luck and I hope everyone continues to
read despite the gruesome topic. PLEASE READ.
And FYI, my update schedule is going to be a little crazy for a while because
life is eating me. But I will update at least once or twice a week guaranteed!
Questions, comments, concerns?
REVIEW!
***** Life as They Know It *****
Did you know…? ONE in FOUR girls is sexually abused in her lifetime and ONE in
SIX boys will be also. That’s a scary statistic, isn’t it?
                                     X X X
It was late August and it had been raining cats and dogs for the past week. By
now, the flowerbeds had been washed out, the grass was impossibly overgrown
from the extra water and worms, and everything had the lingering smell of
mildew and wet dog. Then, like God was finished washing and remaking the world,
the sun came out and shone with bright buttery warm light.
It was like a sad little metaphor.
The rain was over and out comes the sun.
The endless darkness was making way for the light.
The hard times were finished and now things would be good again.
In theory and in stories that begin with ‘once upon a time,’ that might have
been true. But real life was different. Reality was harsh and cruel and bitter.
Reality bit down with a variety of teeth and then tore into the carcass of
dreams like an angry dog. The truth of the matter was that once the sun came
out, it only shed light on all the scars left behind by the previous night’s
events.
…
Hinamori Amu looked at her reflection in the mirror, staring at her twelve-
year-old self reflected their like a tragic ghost. As she did each morning
before she did anything else, she sent up a silent prayer to her little sister
in heaven. She never had much to say, but it was something she always did—even
if the words in her head were as simple as ‘Hey Ami…’ Then, she began to hide
the signs of the night before, picking through her many canisters of make-up
spread across the vanity. She had to cover them…
Her father’s fingerprints around her wrist.
One of her mother’s lacquered nails embedded in her flesh.
Her left eye swollen nearly shut and occluded with blood from her father’s
punch.
The shape of her mother’s wedding ring on the torn skin beneath her eye.
Her father’s boot imprinted on her skinny back.
It was always like this before a new school year started. It opened the five
year old wounds left behind by Ami’s death. It opened the door to those
thoughts, to the grief and guilt and shame and lingering hatred for the smile
of Ami’s that they still saw in Amu’s face. If Ami had lived, she would be in
seventh grade now. If Ami had lived, maybe she would be a singer now.
If Ami had, if she had, if only, if only, if…
Tears burned in Amu’s eyes and throat, but she swallowed them, choking them
back. She covered the bruises on her face as best she could, put band-aids on
her wounds, combed her strawberry-colored hair, and brushed her teeth. She
dressed in clothing that reminded her parents nothing of Ami—dark gothic
designs and patterns, left her hair down, and composed her face to be like a
perfect Noh mask without even the hint of a smile. It was in her best interest
to remind them nothing of the child they had lost.
Then, prepared, Amu came downstairs from her bedroom.
Her mother, Midori, was sitting at the table, sipping her coffee. Midori had
been a true beauty in her youth with her soft round face and waves of chestnut
hair, but now, time and pain had eaten away at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed
and swollen, her lips pressed thin, and her hair was streaked with grey (though
no one knew because she kept it perfectly dyed). She glanced up at Amu and
smiled faintly and Amu was reminded of the loving mother she had lost along
with Ami. She nearly cried, but bit back the tears.
If Amu kept up the façade, remained cool and collected, she could make it
through.
Seated across from Midori was Tsumugu, Amu’s father. He was a clever-looking
man, his thin glasses perched delicately on the end of his nose, his hair
trimmed, and his face clean-shaven. His face showed none of the grief that
Midori’s did, just the sad hard edges of lines around his eyes and mouth. He
was reading the paper, silent, and Amu saw that the knuckles of his right hand
were wrapped in gauze. The skin had probably split while he was beating her the
night before.
A stab of phantom pain went through her side where he had struck her, but she
swallowed the cry.
“Good morning, Mom, Dad,” Amu said and went to the sink as if the floor was
coated in eggshells. She drew herself a glass of water, took a small sip while
waiting to see if they replied to her, and then set it on the drain board. She
turned to face them, swallowing nervously, but both her parents smiled at her.
It was the sweetness afterwards that broke Amu’s heart. They never directly
apologized for what they did, but she could tell they were sorry. If she just
gave them more chance, this would stop. If she was better, this would stop.
Deep down, they loved her. They just missed Ami too much.
“Amu, sweetie, why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you some pancakes?” Midori
offered, rising from her chair smoothly.
Amu nodded. “I’d like that,” she murmured and sat down beside her father.
Tsumugu put his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb across the marks on her wrist
that were hidden beneath her long sleeves. “Honey, do you need anything?” he
offered.
“I need a little money to go shopping,” Amu confessed though she didn’t tell
him she needed bandages and make-up to cover her bruises, cuts, and injuries.
“Of course,” he said and opened his wallet. He leafed off two twenties and
handed them to her, pressing them in her palm. “Get whatever you want and keep
the change, honey.”
Amu nodded gratefully, clenching the bills in her palm.
Midori slid a stack of hot pancakes in front of her daughter, but didn’t bring
the bottle of syrup from the fridge. That bottle had been in the fridge since
Ami’s death five years ago. They didn’t throw it out and they never used it. It
was one of those things, Amu supposed, that was just too painful. So she ate
her pancakes without syrup or powdered sugar. She had to be careful not to
remind them of Ami or else they’d… Amu swallowed, fingering the bruises on her
wrists.
Tsumugu pressed a kiss to the top of Amu’s head. “Well, pumpkin, we’ve got to
go to work now. Have a good day,” he said.
Amu nodded. “I will. Is there anything I can…” she hesitated, “can do to help
out?”
Midori paused, thinking. “Well, you could wash the curtains in the living room
and try to dry the place out. We’ve had a lot of rain lately.”
Tsumugu laughed. “It’s nice not to need the umbrella for the first time in a
week.”
Midori laughed too. “And sweetie,” she added, her voice growing soft and
strange, “You should do a little… school shopping.”
Amu flinched, awaiting the blow that was sure to come when coupled with words
like that, but it never came. Midori sniffled, Tsumugu wrapped his arm around
her back, and the two of them left. Amu remained frozen, listening, waiting for
the sound of the car leaving the garage. When it finally faded, she let out a
harsh breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.
She was alright. She had made it. She now had permission to do some school
shopping, get bandages and make-up, and she had even gotten a lovingly-prepared
breakfast. It was proving to be a rather good morning after all. Maybe the day
was right and this would be the end. Light was coming and her parents would
love her again. Things would look up soon, she was sure of it, but she had also
been certain that someone would save her little sister from death.
Amu shuddered, quickly going to take down the curtains in the living room. If
she could just be better, just a little bit better, then her mother and father
would love her. If she was better, they would stop hurting her. So she hurried
through the chores and polished the house until it shined and her beaten body
throbbed with pain.
…
Hoshina Utau woke suddenly and sharply, her heart pounding raggedly. Something
was wrong! She vaulted out of her bed, bare fleet slapping on the floor, and
hurried down the hall to her older brother’s room. The door was ajar, hanging
crooked on its broken hinges, and the interior was empty. Her brother’s bed was
a wreck, blankets pulled off and pillows strewn across the floor, and she
immediately knew what had happened to him… again.
Utau slid to her knees in the ruin of his bed and choked back her tears. He
went through so much at their step-father’s hand, tormented because he was
considered worthless. Utau was a singer, raking in money for their step-
father’s company, but her brother’s violin was too powerful and emotional and
worthless. So, their step-father made him useful in other ways. She remained
kneeling there, waiting for him to come back to his bed, for what felt like an
eternity.
In the silence of the large house, she suddenly realized she could hear the
sounds of her precious brother being tormented and broken. Tears rolled down
her cheeks as she listened to the slap-slap of flesh and his soft shattered
cries of pain. Usually, he was silent when he was taken. Their step-father must
have been being particularly rough with him this morning. Utau bit her lip,
trying to wish away the sounds, but they seemed to go on forever.
Then, finally, there was silence.
Hoshina Kazuomi’s footsteps were loud as he went down the hallway and then
there was the bang of the front door as he left for work. Utau dashed to the
window and watched him leave in his expensive Mercedes until he was completely
out of sight. Then, she counted to one hundred to be certain he was gone. She
waited another minute for her brother to return to his room, but the minute
came and went and he still hadn’t returned.
Utau crept down the hallway to her step-father’s bedroom and hesitated at the
door. What if her brother was dead? Finally, she dredged up the courage and
peeked around the threshold of the door, completely unprepared for the sight
that waited before her.
She had never really… seen her brother’s body after the fact… not naked, not
like this, not when it was so obvious…
Kazuomi’s room had a large four-poster bed made up with cream-colored silk
sheets and countless goose-down pillows in the center. Now, left discarded
there like he was a used and broken doll, was Utau’s precious brother—Ikuto. He
was naked, curled up on his side with his arms wrapped around his middle. His
pale face was chalk-white, lined with pain, and there was a red mark on his
cheek as if he had been slapped. His wrists and ankles were bloodied and
bruised, his hips marked with dark handprints. As he was, it was painfully
clear what things he let happen to his body.
Tearing up, Utau made her way to the bed and softly whispered, “Ikuto?”
He lifted his head, his expression one of pure agony, but forced on a smile
when he saw her. “Hey,” he murmured. “I’m okay.”
Utau nodded and raced to him, averting her eyes from his naked body. She
reached out to touch him, but her fingers were trembling so badly. She lowered
her hand, clenching it in the cotton fabric of her pajamas. “H-how bad was it?”
she whispered.
Ikuto glanced at her and then to the nightstand. Lying there was the tube of
lubricant. “It could have been worse,” was all he said. Then, painfully, he
crawled from the bed and got his feet underneath him. He stooped to gather his
clothes and a whimper of anguish escaped him no matter how hard he tried to
stifle the sound.
Utau cried for him. She cried for everything he went through.
Ikuto managed to dress in his boxers, but it hurt too much to move to bother
getting dressed further. He gently took his little sister’s elbow and led her
out of the room, limping as the pain speared through his violated body. “He
wants his sheets changed,” he told Utau.
She nodded. “I’ll do it. You just… rest, Ikuto, and… take a shower.”
He kissed her forehead lightly. “I’m alright,” he insisted. “Really.”
But as she watched his paper-thin brutalized form limp down the hall to the
bathroom, she knew he wasn’t. He suffered too much and did nothing to escape,
even at such a cost to his body and mind. Fresh tears rolled down her pale
cheeks, but she hurried to change the sheets on her step-father’s bed, throwing
the soiled ones into the washing machine. There was blood smeared on the silken
white fabric and she knew it wasn’t Kazuomi’s blood.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
Drop a review, please.
***** Chance Encounter at the Pharmacy *****
Everyone seems to be taking this story much better than they did my last
Awareness story. The first two chapters of Behind the Walls got vicious flames
and a lot of uproar. (“How can I write this? What a rotten person I am! Why
would I write child abuse?”) I’m glad everyone’s taking this well.
                                     X X X
Utau took down fresh silk sheets of the deepest blood-colored crimson and
returned to her step-father’s bedroom after she heard Ikuto start the water in
the shower. She stared at the bed a moment, clutching the clean sheets to her
chest. Then, she approached the bed and stared at the nightstand where the tube
of lubricant was lying. It had been brutally squeezed, the cap missing, as if
their step-father had been in a frenzy while using it. On the side of the white
tube was a single smear of blood.
Utau’s eyes burned with tears, her throat tight.
Her poor brother… why would Kazuomi treat Ikuto like this? Ikuto was a boy too
and Kazuomi must have liked women.
And why did Ikuto allow this? He was strong. He could have fought back.
So why didn’t he…? He couldn’t… like it… could he?
She pushed away those thoughts. There was no way Ikuto enjoyed Kazuomi’s
actions, not when he could hardly walk the next day or there was blood. Ikuto
must have had a reason and she trusted his judgment. Maybe something worse
would happen to him if he didn’t allow this. Utau was just finishing remaking
her step-father’s bed with clean sheets when Ikuto appeared in the threshold
without entering. She didn’t blame him. This room was probably his least
favorite room in the house. If she was in his position, she wouldn’t have
wanted to enter either.
“How are you feeling?” she asked him. “Does it hurt?”
He glanced at her and then looked away. “No. I’m alright.”
Utau wet her lips. “School is starting soon. Maybe we should do some shopping,”
she suggested.
“We have uniforms, Utau,” Ikuto said softly. “We don’t really need to.”
“It would get you out of the house,” Utau said gently. “Help you not think
about it.”
He sighed. “Whatever you want. I need to go to the pharmacy anyway,” he said to
her, turning away.
“For what?” she called after him, but he didn’t answer.
Quickly, Utau fluffed the pillows and smoothed the covers and then fled the
room where her step-father had take Ikuto earlier that morning. Her brother was
standing in the kitchen, holding his car keys, and smiled at her when she
entered. Even though that smile was strained, Utau appreciated it and returned
it with one of her own. She looped her arm around Ikuto’s thin waist and was
shocked to feel his body shudder away from her. It was almost as if his skin
had crawled at her touch.
…
Amu bundled herself up in a hooded sweatshirt covered in skulls that Ami would
have never even glanced at had she still been alive now and then ducked out of
the house, locking the door behind her. She walked down the stone path to the
mailbox, letting herself out the wooden gate that was now in dire need of a
fresh coat of paint.
She glanced back at her home—the yellowed peeling paint, the dead flowers in
the flowerbox, the swing hanging neglected in the pine tree. She glanced up at
the windows, seeking out her own room. From the outside, everything appeared
so… normal. Amu wondered if she looked normal from the outside too.
Tucking the two twenties deeper into her pocket, she climbed onto her bike and
headed to the mall.
The air was humid and cool though the sun was buttery and blissfully warm.
Birds were everywhere, having a field day eating all the soggy worms. Toads and
frogs had the same idea, croaking in chorus with the chirping of the birds. The
faint breeze smelled of flowers, wet leaves, and that wonderful indescribable
after-the-rain scent. The world was fresh and clean, fertile, and it felt like
anything was possible. Amu smiled to herself as she rode her bike and hummed a
few notes of her favorite song. Then, realizing that she was beginning to sing
as Ami would have, she bit her tongue.
She couldn’t remind her parents of Ami.
They would hurt her in their grief and jagged pain. But it wasn’t really their
fault. They just missed Ami.
And, honestly, so did Amu.
She arrived at the mall and chained her bike to the rack before once again
checking her pocket to make sure the money was still there. It was and she
removed it, tucking it into her bra for safekeeping. It was rare that her
father gave her so much money and told her to keep the change so she didn’t
want to risk losing it. She checked her bike chain and lock again to be certain
that her meager possessions were secure before ducking into the cool air-
conditioned interior of the mall.
Amu made her way right into one of the cheaper department stores and went to
the cosmetics department. She chose some thick concealer to cover her bruises
and then wandered the section aimlessly. She stared longingly at some of the
bright pinks and golds used to shadow eyes and decorate lips, but she could
never wear something like that. It would remind her parents of Ami… of how Ami
used to love putting on makeup and dancing and singing and smiling.
Amu sighed and turned away, nearly bumping into one of the cosmetologists
working on a display nearby. “Sorry,” Amu said quickly and side-stepped the
young woman.
“It’s alright,” she said. “Can I help you with something?”
Amu shook her head. “No,” she said and ducked her head. “Excuse me.”
She felt the woman’s eyes on her back as she walked away. It wasn’t often you
saw a twelve-year-old child alone in a store, especially since Amu’s face
appeared even younger than twelve and she was wearing clothes in shades of
black and decorated with blood-colored skulls. From the outside, Amu realized,
she wasn’t even close to normal and it was even worse on the inside.
She wasn’t sure who she even was anymore. Her personality was nothing more than
countless things she did in order to not remind her parents of Ami. For all she
knew, the real Amu had died with Ami all those years ago.
Amu paid for the concealer and left the cosmetics department, weaving her way
through racks of clothing on clearance. She spent a moment staring at the
articles of pink and white clothing, fingering the soft cloth. Her eyes burned
with tears. This… this was the kind of thing Ami would wear and therefore
something Amu was forbidden to even think about. If she wore something pink and
white, her parents would hurt her in their endless grief.
Amu choked back her tears, whispering, “Why did you have to die, Ami?”
Then, before she could think about the cute lovely clothing she really truly
wanted, Amu turned her back on the racks and hurried to the darker section. She
chose a few t-shirts and pleated skirts, things that were conservative but
still gothic enough to set her apart from Ami’s ghost. With her few selections,
she made her way to the check out, paid, and left the mall. She’d have to
purchase bandages at the pharmacy down the block.
Outside, her bike was patiently waiting for her. She unlocked it, pushed her
purchases into her basket, and put the money into her pocket. Then, she kicked
off and weaved carefully through the parking lot, watching for cars and lurking
strangers. Unmolested, she made it to the pharmacy and once again locked up her
bike, carrying her purchases inside with her.
The pharmacy was empty save a dark-haired young man. He was very tall and thin,
dressed all in black as if someone had died, and he stood hunched over as if in
great pain.
Amu excused herself politely as she slipped between him and the shelf,
momentarily blocking his view. The boxes of band-aids had been moved to the top
shelf and she strained to reach. Even so, on the tips of her toes, she still
couldn’t reach. What was she going to do? She needed bandages. Maybe she could
ask for help from a clerk. She stepped back and glanced around for someone who
worked in the pharmacy, but there was no one nearby. She looked back up at the
shelf again woefully.
The young man stepped up beside her, dwarfing her small frame within his shadow
though he wasn’t close enough to touch her, and took a box down from the top
shelf. He offered it to her, his sapphire eyes soft. “Here,” he murmured.
Amu wet her lips, took the box from his outstretched hand, and quickly shied
away from him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He didn’t say anything, just selected a tube of lubricant from the shelf and it
appeared as if he was trying to hide it within his long-fingered hands. Then,
with one swift nervous glance at her, he walked away and vanished within the
aisles.
Amu swallowed, unnerved, and hurried to the check out with the box of band-
aids. Then, her errands finished, she raced home as fast as she could possibly
pedal. The expression in that boy’s eyes had chilled her and she hoped she
would never have to see him again yet somehow, some small part of her, wished
she somehow would. She shook her head, clearing those thoughts. Ami wouldn’t
think about boys yet. Ami wouldn’t be like this. Ami wouldn’t.
…
Hoshina Kazuomi was sitting behind his desk in his massive and comfortable
wing-backed chair, looking out the big window at the city spread out below him
like it was there for his personal enjoyment. The world was his oyster, his
game board, and he alone was ruler of everything. On the desk before him were
the accomplishments of his two step-children, just as owned as the Easter
Corporation and the gleaming city laid out beyond the windows of his lavish
office.
Those brats were like two sides of a coin.
Utau did whatever he asked of her and had become the most popular pop idol
within a few months. What else had be expected though? She was beautiful and
she had the voice of an angel. God, he would have loved to break into her
virgin body and tear her apart. Her music could be so much more soulful if she
hurt that deep inside.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair.
Though Utau was priceless, raking in nearly as much money as the company
itself, Ikuto was a worthless wretched child. He was really only good for
relieving stress and working to the bone. And even then, sometimes he wasn’t
even good for that. It seemed that Ikuto was constantly finding small ways to
infuriate and rebel against Kazuomi’s hand.
Utau was Kazuomi’s precious priceless porcelain doll, but Ikuto was nothing
more than a worthless marionette puppet.
Someday, Kazuomi would finish with Ikuto and destroy him completely. Until then
it was just nice to see a boy forced to grow up faster than any child should
have struggling to protect his sister from something he hardly understood at
the time when it started. But Ikuto was constantly trying his hardest to
protect her, his honest heart on his sleeve, and that was why Kazuomi enjoyed
him.
And best of all, no one even suspected that behind closed doors, Hoshina
Kazuomi was destroying his step-son’s body and mind from the inside out. His
exterior was that of a perfect and ruthless businessman, his smile painted on.
But at home, he let the monster out of its cage and enjoyed his power and
control and domination.
…
Earlier in the morning, Ikuto drove Utau to the mall and dropped her off,
telling her to call him on his cell phone when she was ready for him to pick
her up. He didn’t tell her where he was going and he didn’t say why he wasn’t
going to shop with her even though he normally did. The truth of the matter was
that his body just ached far too much. He didn’t even want to sit down,
nonetheless walk around. He headed for the pharmacy, hating that he had to do
this more and more as it came closer and closer.
At the house, the tube of lube was nearly empty and if Kazuomi didn’t have any,
he would just take Ikuto dry. It was in Ikuto’s best interest to keep the
lubricant well-stocked to protect his body from even further damage. But still,
the person being raped shouldn’t have had to supply the rapist with lube.
Ikuto got out of the car and bit back a whimper of agony as the pain raced up
his spine. Once he had collected himself, he headed inside, ducking his head
and refusing to look at the clerk behind the counter because the kid was
smirking at him. Ikuto always purchased the lube here and figured that anyone
who saw a teenage boy buying lube probably just thought he was gay.
If only they knew the truth…
Hot shame welled up in his chest. No, he wouldn’t allow anyone to know what
happened to him at home.
It was bad enough that Utau knew.
He made his way to the correct aisle and stood there, glaring at the many
brands as if it was their fault what was happening to him. He must have been
standing there a long time because a girl with pale red hair excused herself
and slipped past him. He glanced at her, watching as she stared up at the band-
aids on the top shelf. She was so small, maybe ten or eleven, and she couldn’t
reach the top shelf no matter how hard she strained. She stepped back, glanced
around in search of help, found none, and stared up at the shelf again
helplessly.
Ikuto stepped in, took down the box, and offered it to her. “Here,” he said
softly, gently, watching her. He was careful to keep his fingers back so she
wouldn’t touch him accidentally. After Kazuomi took him, he was always nervous
and sensitive for a few hours.
“Thank you,” she whispered and he noticed her face was positively covered with
makeup. What was such a young girl doing wearing so much?
In his pocket, his phone vibrated—probably Utau asking to be picked up. Without
another word, Ikuto grabbed a tube of lubricant and turned away from the girl.
He didn’t even bother to check out, just gave the clerk a ten to cover the cost
and left without bothering to collect his change.
                                     X X X
Ah, they almost met. (Not for a little while longer, everybody.)
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review, please.
***** The Cafe Cat's Eye *****
Ugh, my job is so crazy right now. We’re short-handed by about half what we
should have to work with. I need a nap.
                                     X X X
Wanting to surprise her parents, Amu prepared a brown-sugar meatloaf for supper
and put potatoes on the stove to boil. In the microwave, she heated some plain
corn so that the meal was healthy and perfectly balanced, just the way her
mother liked it. Her father didn’t normally care what was on his plate so long
as it was edible. Amu smiled softly as she peeked in the oven at the meatloaf
which was browning nicely and filled the house with a delicious aroma.
She had a good feeling about tonight.
After a week of endless rain, the sun had finally come out. She had gone
shopping for makeup, bandages, and a few clothes and still had some money to
spare. She had cleaned the house until it shone despite the pain in her body.
And now, she had prepared a wonderful dinner for her parents. Yes, tonight
would be the night they took her in their arms, bid their final tearful goodbye
to Ami’s ghost, and realized that Amu still remained to be loved. Then, all her
pain and suffering would be over.
And, best of all, it would have been worth it.
To have her loving parents back, Amu would go through it all again. Tonight,
she was certain. Things would change for the better. She would feel true love
for the first time in five years. Amu smiled, a small tune escaping her mouth
as she set the table with her mother’s favorite china and crystal. She glanced
at the clock and saw that it was nearly six-fifteen. Her parents would be home
any moment now to shower her in love and tell her what a good job she had done
cleaning and cooking and covering her bruises.
Amu heard the garage door roll up, the motor humming.
She noticed her smile in the hall mirror and carefully composed her face into
an un-smiling, un-Ami-like mask. Then, she waited for Midori and Tsumugu to
come inside. She felt like a puppy, her tail wagging, her ears lifted, tongue
lolling.
This was it!
It was the moment everything changed!
The day had been too good for anything to go wrong now, she was certain of it.
Tsumugu came in first, taking off his light suit jacket and hanging it in the
closet. His face was smooth and relaxed, but not quite smiling. He lifted his
nose and sniffed, drool practically gathering in the corner of his lips at the
aroma. Midori was just behind him, her mouth curving in a faint smile a she
inhaled the scent of food cooking. She took off her own jacket and then spotted
Amu, standing there patiently with eagerness in her golden eyes.
“Amu, did you cook?” Midori asked.
Amu nodded, proud. “Yes, I did.”
“It smells delicious. What is it?” her mother asked.
“Brown sugar meatloaf,” Amu said cheerfully. “It’s almost ready. It’ll just be
a few more minutes.”
“Are these mashed potatoes?” Tsumugu called, peeking under the lid of the
silver pot resting on the stove.
“They are,” Amu said and couldn’t help her lips from beginning to smile. “And I
made some corn, too.”
“Sweetie, it looks delicious,” Midori said and placed a kiss on the top of her
surviving daughter’s head. “I can’t wait to eat.”
Amu beamed, relief filling her. Her precious kind wonderful parents were back.
They were finally back! She hadn’t been so happy in such a long time. Best of
all, she had a feeling they were here to stay—just like the sunlight. It would
be a long time before it rained again, either outside or in Amu’s heart. Things
were better. Things had changed.
Then, Tsumugu turned to face his wife and daughter and froze. He pointed at
Amu’s face. “What is that?”
“What?” Amu asked.
Her mother’s harsh slap came out of nowhere, stinging her cheek painfully.
With a cry, Amu stumbled back, clutching her face. The concealer sloughed off
in her hand, revealing yesterday’s bruise underneath. “What?” she gasped again,
tears burning in the back of her throat. “What’s wrong? I thought this would…
make you happy!”
“I saw the relief in your face, little girl,” Tsumugu ground out. “You made
this dinner for a boy, didn’t you?”
“N-no,” Amu choked out.
“But you managed to sneak him out before we came in, didn’t you, Amu?” he
continued. “That’s why you looked so relieved.”
“And happy,” Midori added. “You thought you’d gotten away with it, didn’t you?”
Amu sobbed, tears rolling down her face. “No, I didn’t…”
The second slap was harder, followed quickly by a third that sent her face
whipping back and forth. “You little slut,” Tsumugu shouted at her while Midori
continued to slap, harder and harder as the rage enveloped her. Then came those
words, those horrible words—“Ami would never have acted like this!”
Tsumugu tore Amu from Midori’s grip and hurled her onto the floor. Immediately,
Amu curled in on herself, trying to protect her face and stomach. She had done
wrong so she deserved this—deserved to be punished for the bad things she had
done. A wail escaped her clenched teeth as Tsumugu’s foot slammed into her
stomach, Midori kicked her from behind and the assault seemed to go on forever.
Finally, they stopped, each panting.
Then, there was silence that was only broken by Amu’s whimpers and sobs of pain
and regret.
“Get yourself cleaned up,” Midori said coolly.
“And go to bed with no supper,” Tsumugu put in.
Amu lay on the floor for a moment, listening to their footsteps fading as they
went into the kitchen. She sat up, pressing her fingers to her stomach and
face. Her face was bruised and she could taste blood. Crying, Amu pulled
herself together and climbed the steep stairs to her bathroom.
Her reflection in the mirror was horrible. Her face was battered, her eye
already swelling, and there was a hideously dark bruise on her cheek. Her nose
was also bleeding along with all the wounds she had received the night before
for doing something wrong again. It was like she was never going to learn. Amu
washed her face, watching the makeup and blood swirl down the drain. Then, she
applied band-aids and salve to her cuts and bruises.
She hesitated outside her bedroom door, listening to the sounds of her parents
eating and laughing downstairs. They were happy now, happy without her there.
She was the bad one, the one who kept doing things wrong. She was deserving of
being hit and punished like this.
Amu ducked into her bedroom and lay down on her bed, tormented by the smell of
meatloaf and gravy. She hadn’t eaten all day, but this was okay. Starving… she
deserved this too. Ami would never anger their parents this much. Amu was the
bad one. She was. She would have to be better and her parents would love her.
They would treasure her. If only she could be better…
…
Ikuto worked nights at a small café that had coupled with a bookstore a few
years prior. Working often caused him problems because then he didn’t get
enough sleep, but he needed the money. He was saving up so that the moment he
turned eighteen, he could spirit himself and Utau someplace safe.
That was his goal in life.
It didn’t matter how or what he had to do, but he had to get them both out of
there. He figured the money he had started saving since he turned fifteen would
keep them for about a month. Then, he would do whatever was necessary… even if
he had to do something sickening like sell his body.
But for now, he worked nights at a bookstore café.
The Café Cat’s Eye (1) was arranged neatly to cater to the needs of both the
people in the café section and the people in the book section. The café was
pushed over to the left, several tables nestled against the wall, and there was
a low wood bar at the back of the room with the kitchen and coffee pots behind
it. On the right side was row after row of bookshelves all packed with second-
hand and brand new novels. This month’s newest novel, The Breaking of
Poisonwood, (2) was a story by a new up-and-coming author that Ikuto hadn’t
heard of before though Nadeshiko had read the book and loved it.
Sandwiched between the two sections was a glossy grand piano that was too big
to fit through the doors. It was almost as if the building had been built
around it. The walls of the entire shop were redbrick lined with wooden
trellises, thick vines with star-shaped jasmine flowers climbed all over the
walls. Faux faeries hung from the ceiling and were hidden within the vines.
Potted palms nestled in the corners, each café table had a pot of live flowers
on it, and the windows were framed with sheer cloudy curtains. The place was
like a fantasy world, always smelling of jasmine and coffee and paper. It was
like an indoor garden.
Ikuto loved the atmosphere of his work.
He felt like a child again, like dreams were possible, like he wasn’t going
through hell day in and day out.
He arrived a few minutes early, coming in through the rear entrance where they
loaded in new books, and peered around one of the many shelves of books into
the small café area. It wasn’t packed, but there were a moderate amount of
tables with people sitting at them. It looked like it was going to be a busy
night. The place was warm with the aroma of food and coffee and the soft
chatter of happy people. A wave of tension washed from his body almost
immediately.
It was good to get away from the place that should have been home. Here, at
least, he was safe.
“Hey Ikuto,” a soft voice rang out.
Ikuto turned to face his two coworkers, Fujisaki Nagihiko and Nadeshiko, though
he had no idea who had spoken. They were twins in the most absolute sense of
the word. (3) If Nadeshiko let her hair down, she was impossible to distinguish
from her brother and if Nagihiko put his up, he looked just like Nadeshiko.
Both were tall and slender (and Nadeshiko had rather small breasts which made
her look more like her brother than any girl should) with long graceful limbs
and easy quick smiles. They both had hair so deep black it shone with a tinge
of cobalt almost like the feathers of a raven and honest chestnut-brown eyes.
At work, Nadeshiko kept her long hair bound in a French braid and Nagihiko
scraped his back into a ponytail. By that alone, Ikuto was able to tell the
mischievous twins apart. Even so, they were Ikuto’s two most favorite people.
“Hey,” he said in greeting. “Which of you spoke?”
One of them chuckled. “You still can’t tell?”
Ikuto folded his arms. “I bet your parents can’t tell you apart.”
They glanced at each other and said in unison, “True.”
Nadeshiko smiled at him. “It was me. I said hello to you.”
“Or it might have been me,” Nagihiko said.
Nadeshiko elbowed him. “Don’t heckle Ikuto.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nagihiko said to her flippantly.
“So, how everything going?” Ikuto asked them.
“It’s a little slow for two people,” Nadeshiko said. “Once we head out you
should be contentedly busy. You like to be busy, don’t you?”
Ikuto shrugged. “It makes the time go faster.”
Nagihiko nodded. “Well, let’s get to it. We clock out in about an hour.”
Ikuto followed them into the café area, trying his very hardest not to limp as
each step sent a stab of pain into his backside. He didn’t want the twins to
ask him what was wrong. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was going
through. He didn’t need pity or help. He just needed all this torment to end.
So, concealing his pain with a soft smile, he took up his position behind the
counter of the bookstore section and prepared to work for his and Utau’s
future.
                                     X X X
(1) Who knows where Café Cat’s Eye comes from? Nerd moment! My Tsubasa story,
Web of Dreams, and also makes a short cameo in Where Do We Go When We Die?
where Tsubaki works. And I’m sure it’s in a few other of my stories too. I feel
like CLAMP… all my stories are interconnected in some little way.
(2) The Breaking of Poisonwood is my novel! Everyone should check it out!
Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a
birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to
be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was
killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things
happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the
ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage.
The Poisonwood—
(3) I like Nadeshiko and Nagihiko both equally, but couldn’t choose who I
wanted to put in my story. So, voila, we get twins—for real! (Everyone deal
with it.)
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Ikuto's Dark Night *****
I have nothing to report.
                                     X X X
The night was vast and dark, seemingly endless, with a thick blanket of clouds
blocking the moonlight and view of the stars. Driving home alone, Ikuto felt
like a ship lost as sea, swallowed up by the abyss of the darkness and endless
sea. He drove slowly, even though he was exhausted, he didn’t want to go home.
The only reason he was even going home was because of Utau. She was too young
to drop out of school and, if he was honest, so was he. But, once he graduated,
he would get them out of their living hell hiding under the guise of a place
called home.
So, Ikuto came home at four in the morning from his night shift at the Cat’s
Eye café.
He lingered in the threshold of the front door for a moment, listening to the
silent stillness of the house. He went quietly down the hall to Utau’s room and
checked on her. His little sister was sleeping peacefully, curled up on her
side with her pale face smooth with sleep and her small hands folded in front
of her lips. She was smiling faintly in her dreamland. Ikuto entered her room,
smoothed out her covers, and left after closing the door tightly behind
himself. Next, he went to his step-father’s door and listened. Inside, he could
hear Kazuomi snoring loudly.
For a little while at least, Ikuto was safe.
He had cashed his paycheck and now stashed the small sum of money with the rest
of his savings beneath the loose floorboard under his bed. Then, he gathered up
his pajamas and ducked into the bathroom. He stared at the lock a moment,
thinking about what little good it did. His step-father had broken the hinges
on Ikuto’s bedroom door to get in once so a measly privacy lock wasn’t going to
stop him, but even so, Ikuto locked the door anyway. With the lock, if Kazuomi
decided to come in, Ikuto would have at least a few more seconds to prepare
himself—to avoid the inevitable.
He started the water, turning it as hot as he could possibly bear, and stripped
out of his clothes. He was always careful not to look at his body in the
mirror, but his eyes were always drawn there regardless. He wasn’t sure if it
was what remained of his ego that turned his eyes to his handsome face or some
sick fascination with the marks left on his pale skin.
His thin hips were battered and he could practically see Kazuomi’s fingerprints
bruised into his flesh. His wrists and ankles were marked with the same
bruises. There was a bruise at the corner of his mouth and the dark bloody mark
of a hickey on the inside of his collarbone. His lips were chapped and sore.
Gingerly, Ikuto touched the bruises and marks, wincing as his fingers came to
his mouth. Then, he turned away from the fogging mirror and stepped beneath the
scalding spray, shivering as the hot water hit his chilled skin.
Quickly, he scrubbed his fingers through his night-dark hair until some of that
dirty used feeling was gone. He couldn’t often get it off his body, but he
could usually get it out of his hair. He tipped his head back, letting the hot
water wash away some of his tension. He squeezed some conditioner into his
palms and massaged it through his thick hair.
Finished, for a moment, he just stared at the loofah lying on the rim of the
tub. He squeezed some wash into the soft folds of the puff, worked it into a
lather, and then started scrubbing. He scrubbed his hands, his arms, his
shoulders, and chest—but that feeling was still there. That feeling of being
touched and tormented. He scrubbed his legs until they were red and raw, the
skin of his feet cracking from the rough treatment they received day in and day
out. He scrubbed his chest and back, his arms and throat, his hips and ass. He
scrubbed everything until his skin ached to be touched.
Even so, that feeling remained.
He wondered if it would ever truly go away, even after he got himself and Utau
out of this living nightmare. He stood beneath the scalding water a moment
longer, watching flecks of dark blood swirl away down the drain. His body was
throbbing, inside and out. Every inch of his skin ached from being scrubbed and
the hot water wasn’t helping much. He was probably going to turn into a bright
red lobster any moment now. Ikuto sighed and shut off the water, wrapping his
naked body in a towel.
The mirror was blessedly fogged and he couldn’t see his reflection.
He quickly pulled on his pajamas before the steam could fade from the
reflective glass and hung up his towel. Then, he ducked out of the bathroom and
made his way quickly to his bedroom, exhausted by the day’s events. His door
hung crooked on its ruined hinges and Utau had neatened up the ruined state of
his bed since this morning. Gratefully, Ikuto slid beneath the warm covers and
tried to sleep, shuddering as the cloth touched his raw skin. He always fell
asleep quickly from sheer stress, exhaustion, and pain, but tonight, he was
asleep before his head even hit the pillow.
…
If anyone deserved to become an angel after death, it was his mother. And he
was always happy to see her, be it a dream or a ghost or a hallucination. Ikuto
couldn’t put words to how much he missed her. It was just a painful place in
his chest, empty of her smile and kisses, the place where his mother used to be
when she was alive. But she hadn’t been taken from him completely, not yet…
Souko’s touch was comforting, her hands cool and soft on Ikuto’s aching face.
She cupped his cheeks gently and then stroked his dark hair back from his eyes.
Then, she pressed a caring kiss to her son’s cheek and hugged him close. “My
boy,” she murmured. “My precious boy.”
Ikuto burrowed into his mother’s embrace, clutching her tightly. “Mom,” he
whispered, hating how broken and childish his voice sounded. His voice cracked
with emotion and tears.
Souko stroked his soft hair, rubbing his back gently. “Are you hurt, baby?” she
asked gently.
“I’m okay,” he whispered.
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could have protected you better,” she murmured, still
holding him.
“You did all you could, Mom.” Ikuto squeezed her tightly, inhaling the scent of
crushed flowers and sunlight that was always around her.
“You’re such a good boy,” she said to him gingerly. “Protecting your sister.”
Somewhere, there was the sound of distant music—a violin. Was it his father?
Playing his violin, calling to her, from the other side?
Souko lifted her head and looked off into the light. “Baby, I have to go,” she
said softly and kissed Ikuto’s cheek again.
Ikuto couldn’t get his fingers to release her, desperately holding onto his
mother’s dress. “Mom,” he whispered.
She turned back to look at him, smiling softly. “I love you, baby,” she said.
“I love you too, Mom,” he whispered.
Souko nodded, kissed his cheek one final time, and then vanished within the
light that surrounded her.
Ikuto stood there a little while longer, alone, wrapped in the warmth of the
light of his dream. He was always happy to see his mother, even in his dreams.
After her death, Kazuomi had destroyed all but one picture of her.
Occasionally, he allowed his two step-children to see it, but most of the time
it was locked away from sight. Then, the dream world began to fade and
wakefulness came over Ikuto.
…
Ikuto woke with a start, unsure what had interrupted his dream. The blue
digital numbers on his bedside alarm clock read five-sixteen a.m. He had been
asleep for maybe an hour. His room was dark save a sliver of pale moonlight and
the mansion was silent. He didn’t sense his step-father’s presence lurking in
the darkness and Utau was probably still sleeping. Ikuto rolled over, scanning
the dark, but there were no monsters—real or fictional. He closed his eyes,
burying his face in his pillow, and tried to go back to sleep.
Lying there, his heart was pounding. Why did he feel so on edge?
Unable to ignore his uneasy feeling any further, Ikuto got out of bed and
padded down the hall, barefoot. He peeked in Utau’s room. His little sister had
rolled over, but was still sleeping so soundly that she didn’t even stir as he
covered her up again. He exited her room and went to the front door, checking
to make sure it was locked. It was. He wandered the mansion a little, looking
for a disturbance that could have woken him, but everything seemed calm and
normal. What could have woken him?
Ikuto gave up and returned to his bedroom. There was the object of his unease,
waiting for him like a cat that had been stalking an unknowing mouse and was
now ready to pounce.
Kazuomi was sitting on his bed, shirtless, his broad shoulders catching the
light and his chest had a mat of thick dark hair. The sight of his bare skin
sent a shiver of repulsion through Ikuto’s body and he stumbled backwards a
step. His step-father’s lips curved into a twisted predatory smile and Ikuto
pulled himself together.
It didn’t matter if he ran. It didn’t matter if he was afraid. It didn’t matter
what he did. The truth of the matter was…
He had to let Kazuomi do this to him because if it wasn’t him…
Then it would be Utau and Ikuto had to protect her.
He didn’t want her to know why either. It was a secret why he didn’t fight
back, why he didn’t run, why he didn’t do something to stop Kazuomi. He didn’t
want her to know that their step-father wanted to rape her and that he was
protecting her from that, even at the cost of having his own body destroyed
instead.
Ikuto took a deep breath, stepped into his bedroom, and closed the door behind
himself so the sounds would not reach Utau as she slept. The door squealed
painfully on its broken hinges, but did finally shut completely. In the moonlit
darkness, Ikuto stood and waited. He watched Kazuomi, his throat as dry and
rough as sandpaper.
“Well,” Kazuomi said finally. His voice was hard and faintly teasing.
Ikuto jolted as if the word had struck him physically.
“Strip,” Kazuomi said to Ikuto, patiently, teasingly, and his voice clearly
portrayed the smirk that his face did not. He knew he had Ikuto right where he
wanted him, caught between fear and pain and the desire to protect his little
sister. This was the one time Ikuto wouldn’t dare disobey him. He had too much
to lose, too much at stake—Utau and her virgin body.
He watched his step-son’s hands trembling as he pulled his t-shirt over his
head and tugged down his cotton pajama pants. Naked, pale skin gleaming in the
moonlight and bruises standing out like black butterflies, Ikuto stood there
before Kazuomi and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. Kazuomi was already
hard and wearing a condom beneath his pants.
Kazuomi pulled him forward by his wrist to sit on the bed beside him. For a
moment, they sat in silence. Ikuto wondered what his step-father was thinking
about, if he was thinking about how wrong this was, if he was thinking about
leaving the room and Ikuto both untouched, if he was thinking anything at all.
Ikuto was shivering, both from the cold night air on his skin and the thought
of what was to come. Then, the painful waiting was over.
Kazuomi pushed him down on the bed, covering Ikuto’s thin naked body with his
own. The boy fisted his hands in the sheets and bit his lower lip, trying not
to feel, trying not to think. Kazuomi fumbled his way out of his pants and the
hardness pressed into Ikuto’s stomach.
“Where is it?” Kazuomi hissed.
“My n-nightstand,” Ikuto whispered, shivering as he felt his step-father’s
genitals rub against his own.
Kazuomi pulled open the drawer and took out the new tube of lubricant that
Ikuto had purchased. He grinned, teeth shining in the dark. “You always keep it
well-stocked, don’t you?”
Ikuto didn’t answer. He turned his face into the pillow and closed his eyes.
The tube made a horrible sound as Kazuomi squeezed the lube onto his fingers.
Then, the older man pressed the cold substance against Ikuto’s entrance,
pushing two fingers in painfully quick. Ikuto clenched his teeth and shifted,
trying to relax his muscles so it wouldn’t hurt so badly. He was still sore
from that morning and lube was worth nothing if Kazuomi took him so quickly
without giving his small body a chance to adjust.
Kazuomi added a third finger and stretched the boy’s tight entrance beneath
him, thrusting his fingers quickly until Ikuto had stopped whimpering softly.
Then, he positioned his hard erection at Ikuto’s entrance and slammed in
without any further preparation. A harsh cry spilled from Ikuto’s lips and he
gripped the sheets tightly in his fists, turning his face away so Kazuomi
wouldn’t see the tears gathering in the corners of his wine-dark eyes.
“You’re always so tight,” Kazuomi hissed against the shell of Ikuto’s ear.
Ikuto shuddered, his muscles clenching down.
Kazuomi groaned in bliss.
His step-father was hovering above him, his sweat dripping on Ikuto’s upturned
face and his large hands holding tight to Ikuto’s already-bruised hips. It felt
as if the bruises went all the way to his bones. Ikuto whimpered, clutching the
sheets as Kazuomi pounded into him harder and harder as his orgasm built. Then,
finally, with a groan, Kazuomi spilled inside Ikuto’s body. He pulled out,
watching as Ikuto curled in on himself and hugged his nudity close. He peeled
off the used condom and tossed it on Ikuto’s naked back where is stuck and then
oozed down his bare flesh.
Kazuomi grinned, left his step-son’s bedroom, and crawled back into his clean
bed. Ikuto was almost better than a wife—tighter and his body was so childlike
as he writhed beneath Kazuomi and each time was like the first time. Satisfied,
Kazuomi slept like the dead.
Ikuto, on the other hand, was awake much longer. He tossed the used condom in
the trash and then dragged himself to the bathroom and stood under the shower
for a while, resisting the urge to scrub his skin raw. He washed the lube and
semen off his backside. Then, he redressed and returned to his bed, but his
sleep was restless. Every few minutes he woke up, unnerved by some small sound
in the house that sounded like Kazuomi coming back to take him.
                                     X X X
Alright, next chapter will be the start of the new school year which I’m really
not going to spend too much time on. Really, everyone knows what school is
like, don’t they? If you haven’t gone to school, then you shouldn’t be reading
this. Shoo, shoo!
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** First Day of School: Pt I *****
Man, it's a beast to transfer all these chapters...
                                     X X X
Monday morning dawned cool and misty.
Utau was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, scraping her pale blonde
hair back into a bun. Once she had secured the honeyed strands, she tucked her
black wig on over them and spent a moment brushing it until it looked nothing
like a wig anymore. Then, she brushed her teeth and washed her face and stepped
aside to let Ikuto have the bathroom.
Her brother had deep bruise-like circles under his wine-dark blue eyes and his
black hair was lackluster. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink and being that
he worked from ten o’clock to four in the morning and then got up at six for
school, he probably hadn’t. He slipped past her, his face twisting with pain as
he moved, and bent over the sink to brush his teeth.
Utau watched him and then whispered, “Are you alright, Ikuto?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Just tired.”
“But—”
As if he sensed something lurking in the house, he suddenly grabbed her hand
and towed her down the hall. He brought her to the garage and packed her into
the passenger seat of the Jaguar that Kazuomi had bought on the insistence that
their family keep up appearances.
“Ikuto?” she asked him once he had slid behind the wheel with a barely audible
hiss of pain.
“I just want to get some breakfast and get to school on time, alright, Utau?”
he told her and pulled out of the garage.
She nodded and pulled down the visor, checking her wig in the mirror. Hoshina
Utau was a famous celebrity pop idol, but she still wanted to go to high school
like a regular teenager and this was the solution she had come up with. It
wasn’t foolproof, but it kept people from automatically calling the paparazzi
before Utau could explain to them that she like attending school and please
don’t. But school wasn’t the only reason she had worked together this fake
persona. She also wanted to stay at Ikuto’s side. She felt like if she stopped
watching over him, he might just vanish like a ghost.
The Jag rolled down the street, engine purring, and Ikuto saw a familiar face
standing on the corner, waiting for the school bus. Her pale face coated in
makeup was illuminated harshly in the glare of the headlights. It was the girl
from the pharmacy, he realized, the one who had seen him buying lube. He had a
moment of panic, wondering if she remembered that, but though she glanced at
him as he drove past, he didn’t see any recognition in her eyes.
Good, it appeared that she had forgotten.
“I’ve haven’t seen that girl around before,” Utau said, following her brother’s
gaze. “Have you?”
He shook his head.
“Weird,” she said. “Seiyo Academy is the only high school nearby. You’d think
we’d have seen her before.”
“Maybe she’s a freshman,” Ikuto said.
Utau hummed in her chest. “That’s possible. She did look like a kid.” Then, she
took her dark-tinted glasses out of her jacket pocket and slipped them on,
disguising her violet eyes.
Ikuto sighed and shifted in his seat, wincing as the pain speared through him.
He didn’t want Utau to hear him whimpering in agony. Yes, it hadn’t been as bad
as it could have been, but it was still bad. Lubricant was worth nothing if
Kazuomi took him harder and faster than a stallion, but Ikuto should have known
better by now. Rape wasn’t about sex. It was about violence and destruction and
pain.
Hoshina Kazuomi was a bastard, but he was a clever bastard.
Ten years ago, when Ikuto’s mother… ‘died,’ Ikuto had been awake all night,
crying for her. He had come downstairs for a glass of milk and that was when he
overheard his stepfather talking about his little sister. He decided then that
he would never let those horrible things happen to her. But he was so young and
he didn’t fully understand what he was doing. For ten years, he had lived like
this, but there seemed no escape until he was old enough to leave this house.
Until then, he had to protect Utau.
And Kazuomi knew that.
That was how he managed to keep Ikuto’s body under his thumb and under his
control. As long as Utau was at risk, Ikuto wouldn’t dare disobey though he
still would attempt to escape his fate. Like he had this morning, getting
himself and Utau out of the house before Kazuomi woke up and took him.
Ikuto pulled into the drive-through of McDonalds and purchased two chocolate
milkshakes and bacon-egg-and-cheese sandwiches. He passed one of each to Utau
and took a sip of his milkshake to cool his aching throat. He knew he should be
eating, but he didn’t feel like it. His stomach was churning.
Utau, on the other hand, immediately dug in, eating with gusto. Once she
polished off her sandwich, she glanced at Ikuto’s. “You should eat that,” she
murmured.
He handed it to her. “You eat it.”
“Ikuto,” she began.
“I’m not hungry,” he told her. Even though he hadn’t eaten since breakfast the
day before, he just couldn’t force himself to eat now.
“But—” she protested.
He pressed it into her hand, his fingers cool against her warm skin. “Go
ahead.”
She hesitated, glancing from his pale face to the sandwich and back again.
Then, with a sigh, she unwrapped it and took a bite. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I
owe you one.”
‘You have no idea,’ he thought to himself. If only she knew just how far he
went to protect her… He bit his lower lip as he drove, glancing at Utau’s
smiling face. She was so beautiful and her smile was so bright and she hummed
to herself as she ate. It didn’t matter what he had to do, Ikuto realized
again, he would protect her body and her smile no matter the cost to himself.
…
Hinamori Amu stood at the bus stop, dressed in her new school uniform with her
notebooks and folders in a bag over her shoulder. She had a black-and-red purse
attached to her hip with her makeup, concealer, and band-aids inside it, just
in case something happened and she needed to hide the bruises and cuts on her
face.
She had made it out of the house easily, slipping out before her parents even
got up for work. High school started a lot earlier than middle school did. She
had to get up at six to catch the bus at six-thirty and school started at
seven-thirty. Amu was a little nervous. She was going to be a freshman this
year, after all. (1)
What if all those horror stories and television movies about high school were
true?
She wet her lips, waiting alone in the foggy mist for the bright yellow school
bus. Down the street, hidden in the fog, she heard the rumble of a loud engine
and turned to look, hoping it was the bus. She felt like a sitting duck out
here alone, but it wasn’t the bus.
It was an expensive black Jaguar with a dark-haired blue-eyed boy behind the
wheel and a dark-haired violet-eyed girl in the passenger seat. The car rolled
past Amu and she had a momentary thought that the boy looked familiar, but she
couldn’t quite remember where she had seen him before.
The Jaguar passed and Amu stood alone on the empty street a little longer.
Then, the bus rolled up, the air brakes sending up a wave of hot stale air that
blew Amu’s hair back from her face.
The doors swung open and Amu climbed the slippery stairs, sliding into the
first open seat against the window. She hunkered down in the seat, trying to
make herself invisible and it worked. No one sat with her, no one paid
attention to her. In fact, the bus of high school students seemed mostly
asleep—it was pretty early for teenagers to be up and about.
…
Seiyo Academy (2) looked like a king’s castle. It was all white stone with
three tall turret-like towers and a tiered almost-Victorian design. The many
windows were arched and the grounds surrounding the school were large—complete
with football stadium, soccer and baseball fields, a track, large glass
greenhouse garden, and even an indoor pool in a separate building. Honestly, it
looked nothing like a public high school, but there was a rumor that it had
once been a private boarding school that had been converted into a plain high
school at the turn of the century.
Several buses let out the students and Amu hesitated a moment, staring up at
the building in awe. Even though she was wearing the school uniform, a black-
and-white plaid pleated skirt and black collared shirt trimmed with white and a
pale blue ribbon tied around her neck in a tie-like fashion, she felt
conspicuous. She felt like everyone was staring at her, staring through her.
Amu ducked her head and hurried into the school, hustling through the halls to
her homeroom. Once she arrived there, she slid into a desk by the window and
waited. The clock read seven-ten and she had twenty minutes before classes
started.
Amu sighed and laid her head down on her desk on her folded arms. She was so
tired. She hadn’t slept well the night before, even after crying herself into
exhaustion. Horrible nightmares had plagued her, waking her every hour or so,
panting or crying.
Her first nightmare had been of a dark moonless night of rain, like something
out of a cliché B-rated horror film. Rising from her grave, Ami had returned to
the home of her short life as only a skeleton, but Tsumugu and Midori had been
so happy to see their dead child that they didn’t even notice the rotten state
of her body. They had welcomed her and forgotten all about Amu. Even when Amu
broke a dish, they still didn’t turn their attention to her. They cared only
for Ami and Amu was ignored.
The second had been similar. Ami returned to unnatural life only this time, her
parents learned that her life would not be sustained by their love alone. In
order to keep Ami alive, Amu had to be killed. They had chased her into the
rainy night, waving torches and pitchforks and joined by the people of the
city. They had finally caught Amu on the outskirts of town, in the graveyard
where Ami’s grave was open and waiting for Amu’s soon-to-be-deceased body.
Thankfully, she had woke before they killed her.
The third was the worst because it was so real, without any of the cliché
points of a nightmare. Amu had dreamed she came home from school, smiling and
happy. She was like the fairytale princess of her youth, finally having found
her Prince Charming, but her parents had been watching from the window of the
kitchen. The moment she entered the house, they were both standing there, arms
crossed tightly over their chest and faces like stone gargoyles.
Then, they told her, “Your sister would never act this way!”
When the beating for what Amu had done wrong started, it didn’t stop. They
punched and kicked, screamed and shouted, slapped and struck, cursed and
shrieked until Amu was lying there, unmoving on the floor. Then, she was
looking down at the scene from above and understood her death. She had done so
many things wrong in her life and now, she was dead and Hell was waiting for
her. She wouldn’t meet Ami or her parents in Heaven. She was too much of a bad
girl.
Each nightmare had been more and more distressing and now, Amu felt as if her
nerves had been rubbed raw with sandpaper. Each sound and movement around her
as the twenty minutes before school started wound to a close and students filed
into homeroom seemed louder and harsher.
Then, the bell rang loudly and Amu jolted upright in her seat in surprise.
All around her, other freshman students were seated, chattering and laughing
and smiling and complaining about summer having ended. Amu just sat there,
listening blankly to the conversations and trying to shake off the lingering
cobwebs left behind by a sleepless night.
The teacher passed out schedules and maps to the students and talked a little
bit. Then, the bell was ringing again and Amu found herself whisked off into
the hustle, bustle, and routine of the first day of school. Against her better
judgment, she found her thoughts turning to Ami. What if she had lived? How
would Amu’s life be different now?
                                     X X X
(1) I actually really like the five year age difference between Ikuto and Amu,
but because it might creep some people out. In high school in America, freshmen
are usually twelve or thirteen (like Amu who is twelve) and seniors are
seventeen or eighteen (like Ikuto who is seventeen). So the age difference is
really just like a freshman dating a senior and it’s not that creepy. Everyone
think about it that way. And I decided to put everyone in high school just for
ease of plot.
(2) I looked all over and couldn’t find out the name of Ikuto’s high school so
I just called it Seiyo Academy. Roll with it everyone.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** First Day of School: Pt II *****
Someone “too lazy to log in” asked me if I meant to say that freshman in high
school could be twelve. Yes, I did mean that. I know a couple twelve year olds
who are freshman. It depends on how early you start kindergarten and where your
birthday is in the year. My niece is twelve and she just started her freshman
year. Hell, one of my friends graduated his senior year at sixteen and not
cause he was super-smart or anything.
So, no, that is not a mistake and, yes, that was what I meant.
                                     X X X
The first day of school had to be Ikuto’s least favorite by far, not that he
was particularly fond of the rest of the days of the year either. All he wanted
was for graduation to come so his birthday would arrive sooner and he could get
Utau and himself out of their step-father’s house. But, until that day came,
Ikuto hated the first day of school most of all though the reason was rather
foolish. He hated it simply because of role call at the beginning of each class
when he had to change his name.
“Hoshina Ikuto?” the teacher called.
Ikuto chose to ignore her, hoping that maybe if he did, that hated name would
just go away. He had learned to accept what his step-father did to him behind
closed doors. He had learned to accept that he couldn’t escape being under
Kazuomi’s thumb. He had even learned to accept that his life was hell, but the
one thing he wasn’t able to accept the way Utau did was his step-father’s name.
“Hoshina Ikuto?” the teacher tried again.
Nope, Ikuto thought to himself. He would not accept that man’s name. He had
accepted everything else, but not this. Until the day he died, he would keep
his real father’s name, the name his mother Souko had loved so much. He was
Tsukiyomi Ikuto, son of the brilliant violinist Tsukiyomi Aruto (1). He would
never be a Hoshina.
“Hoshina Ikuto?” the teacher said, pronouncing his name a few different ways
just in case she was doing it wrong. Then, finally, she just called, “Ikuto?”
He raised his hand languidly and then said those words he did every year. “It’s
not Hoshina. It’s Tsukiyomi.”
“Oh,” she said, shocked, and glanced between the attendance book and the
troublesome boy sitting in front of her. “My roster says ‘Hoshina.’”
“It’s a mistake,” Ikuto said coldly.
“Oh,” she said again, uncertainly.
“Just cross it out and write Tsukiyomi,” he told her patiently. He went through
this in each class every year and was rather used to it. “I won’t answer to
Hoshina.”
The young teacher swallowed, nervously looking around the classroom. “Oh…”
She was clearly new and not expecting this kind of trouble on the first day of
school, but Ikuto liked to get it out of the way early. He gave her a small
smile and rested his chin on his hand, trying to seem less like the
troublemaker she appeared to think he was. He knew he had a handsome face and
used it to his advantage on occasion. The young teacher relaxed slightly,
nodded, and scribbled down the replacement name on her roster. With that out of
the way of his first class at least, Ikuto turned his gaze out the window.
Outside, the sun was rising and burning off the morning’s cool mist. It looked
like it was going to be a beautiful day.
…
As the lunch period rolled around, Ikuto met his little sister in the
cafeteria. She smiled when she saw him and he was pleased to see that she was
surrounded by her friends from the year before, laughing and smiling. The black
wig was still firmly in place, but she had taken off her tinted glasses.
“Oh, Ikuto,” Utau called when she saw him. “Do you want to eat with us?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to head outside.”
“Okay,” she said cheerfully and turned back to her mooning friends.
Her brother brought that love-sick doe-eyed look to the faces of most girls.
Utau herself was fully aware of just how handsome and striking Ikuto was
despite the fact that his eyes were rimmed with dark circles, he walked with a
slight limp, and he was often bitingly cold. He was so tall and thin, his body
almost fragile-looking so that it brought out just a hint of that motherly
instinct all girls had. They wanted to embrace and coddle to him, to take care
of him, and kiss away all his pain. He had such beautiful thick blue-black hair
and those wine-dark sapphire eyes and pale cream-colored skin. Yes, her brother
was a beautiful specimen of the male species.
Feeling the girls’ eyes on his back, Ikuto made his way quickly from the
cafeteria and outside into the lush grounds surrounding the school. His body
was aching and he just wanted to lie down in the grass and sleep for a little
while. His stomach was grumbling, but he chose to ignore it.
He found a spot beneath a shady tree and laid down, curling up on his side to
relieve the aching in his backside. Kazuomi had been so rough with him lately.
He sighed, pillowing his head on his arms, and just tried to enjoy the warm
lunch period in peace.
…
Amu had packed her lunch from home, but didn’t know what to do with herself now
that lunch period had rolled around. She didn’t have any friends to eat with in
the cafeteria and she wasn’t sure if it would be any better if she went outside
alone. For a moment, she hesitated, clutching her backpack to her chest. Then,
a hurrying boy bumped into her, tossed a quick ‘sorry’ over his shoulder, and
continued on to the crowded cafeteria. Amu decided to go outside where there
were fewer people.
She inhaled the warm air, happy to be out of the air-conditioned school
building. She made her way past the people gathered at the few picnic tables
and out into the grassy field peppered with tall trees. She sat down underneath
on, reclining against the strong trunk and sighing.
She took out her sandwich, apple, and small thermos of milk and stared at them
for a moment. Then, she took a sip of milk and tried to relax.
Her thoughts returned to Ami and her parents. She took a small compact out of
her hip pouch and inspected her face in the mirror, making sure her concealer
still covered the bruises and cuts. It did, but in the bright sunlight, it was
obvious just how much makeup she was wearing to hide the marks on her face.
Tears burned in her throat, gathering in the corner of her eyes as well.
What was she doing wrong to deserve this hurt?
Then, the bell was ringing and Amu quickly stuffed the last bite of her
sandwich into her mouth. She gathered up her things and hurried back into the
school. The day was half-over and she only had three classes left before it was
time to go home. There, she would do everything she could to make her parents
happy. Maybe… she could do laundry and wash the kitchen floor. Yeah, that would
be a nice idea. Maybe then they would love and forgive her.
Maybe then Ami would smile down on her from Heaven.
…
Being a senior and in mostly advanced classes, Ikuto didn’t have many mixed
classes with freshmen, sophomores, or even juniors. In fact, he only had two
mixed classes. The first was his Chemistry class which had a fair amount of
juniors. The second was his art class which had a healthy mix of everyone. In
fact, he was probably one of three seniors in the whole class since he wasn’t
much of an artist and just took the class to relax and enjoy.
“Ikuto? Hoshina Ikuto?”
“It’s Tsukiyomi,” he explained again.
“Alright,” the teacher said since she had had him all years prior.
That was the class where he saw that rosette-haired girl again, the one who had
seen him in the pharmacy and that he had seen at the bus stop that morning on
his way to school with Utau. She was sitting across the table from him, head
bent over a sketch pad and a slew of colored pencils spread out before her. It
was clear by the way she was hunched protectively over her paper, she either
wasn’t much of an artist either or else she was brilliant and didn’t want
anyone to know.
Ikuto watched her a moment before taking out some powdery charcoals from one of
the drawers and beginning to sketch something dark and shadowy. Honestly, that
was how he felt inside—shadowy and fragile, as if a touch could smear him all
over the page just like the charcoal.
“Hinamori Amu?”
“Here,” the girl said softly, glancing up from her page. She looked a little
perplexed, probably wondering why the quirky art teacher had decided to call
role backwards starting with Z and working her way up to A which was something
she did rather often just to mix things up.
The girl’s golden cat-like eyes strayed to Ikuto’s face and stared at him a
moment. When Ikuto felt her gaze and glanced up to meet it, she quickly tore
her eyes away, cheeks bright red. Ikuto frowned. He didn’t like to be stared
at, especially by strange girls who had seen him buying lube in the pharmacy.
But he ignored her stare, turning his attention back to the charcoals and paper
in front of him.
The art class flew by blissfully fast and everyone packed away their supplies a
few minutes before the final bell rang. Utau was waiting for him at his locker,
smiling at him as he shoved his books in. They walked out together and got into
the Jaguar. Ikuto drove his sister to Easter’s corporate building so she could
work on her music and headed home for a few hours of sleep before he had to go
to work at ten o’clock that night. He crawled into bed and tried not to think
about what had transpired there the night before.
…
Amu took the bus home, invisible, pressed against the window as she had that
morning. The bus ride was long, but pleasant. The bus was warm and noisy. Amu
listened to the sounds of other people’s normal lives, talking and laughing
about the latest trends and Hoshina Utau’s newest song and how unhappy they
were to be back in school. Someone was talking about their little sisters and
tears sprang to Amu’s eyes.
“Ami,” she whispered. “Why did you have to die? I miss you.”
No one answered her—not Ami, not any god, and not an angel.
                                     X X X
(1) Some sources list Ikuto’s father’s name as “Alto,” but I read it in the
manga and saw it in the anime as “Aruto” so that’s what I’m going to write.
Just deal with it if you think otherwise.
Questions, comments, concerns?
REVIEW! Please.
***** Threats of Seeking Pleasure Elsewhere *****
Wow, this chapter came out super long! It just kept going and going and I just
couldn’t get it to wrap up.
                                     X X X
Amu came home to the empty house, neither of her parents were home from work
yet at four in the afternoon. She had about an hour and a half before they came
home. She carried her books upstairs and spread them across her desk, so that
she could do her homework quickly later. It was the first day of school and all
so there wasn’t that much yet though. She stripped off her school uniform,
hanging it neatly in the closet for the next morning.
Then, she went downstairs and scrubbed the kitchen floor on her hands and knees
until it shone. Finished, she stepped back, pleased with her work. She smiled,
set the table for dinner, and then went upstairs to start on her homework. It
was all the typical first-day assignments—the classic ‘what did you do over the
summer?’ essay for English and placement worksheets for math and science. In
forty-five minutes, Amu had finished.
The only thing that gave her difficulty was the essay. She had had to lie since
she hadn’t done anything over the summer. Her parents didn’t vacation or go to
the beach anymore because it reminded them too much of Ami. Amu didn’t have any
friends either so she had spent the summer sitting home alone while her parents
worked, reading and watching television. Most of her essay was made up of what
she wished she had done over the summer.
Downstairs, she heard the garage door open and her parents enter the house.
Amu darted downstairs, happy to see them.
Midori was carrying a pizza and Tsumugu has a six-pack of soda. They were both
smiling, their faces positively glowing. For the first time in five years,
since Ami’s death, they looked as young and happy as they used to in the old
pictures that no one was allowed to look at anymore.
“Wow, sweetie, the kitchen floor looks great! Did you wax it?” Midori asked.
Amu shook her head. “I just scrubbed it really well.”
“Well, you did a good job,” Tsumugu said.
“We brought home a surprise for dinner,” Midori said, “to make it up to you.”
Amu smiled slightly. “That’s great. Thank you.”
The Hinamori family crowded around the kitchen table. Tsumugu poured soda over
ice into each of their glasses. Midori re-cut the pizza and slid the slices
onto their plates. Amu got down the salt, red pepper, and garlic from the
cabinet. Then, they all sat down and dug in.
“So, how was your first day of school?” Midori asked Amu.
She swallowed her bite. “It was good,” she said. “I really like my teachers.”
“Seiyo Academy is a great school,” Tsumugu told them. “Make sure you work hard
and get good grades.”
Amu nodded. “I will,” she assured her parents. “I already did all my homework.”
“That’s good,” Midori said with a smile. “You always have been a good student.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“So any plans for the night?” Tsumugu asked.
Amu shook her head. “Nope. Why?”
“Well, we have a business meeting to go to tonight,” Midori told Amu. “So
you’ll be alone until about midnight tonight. Are you okay with that?”
Amu nodded. “Sure.”
Midori smiled. “Good,” she said and reached out to stroke Amu’s pale rosy hair.
Amu leaned into the touch gratefully. “You know, Amu, sometimes I worry about
you. You’re so mature for a girl your age, but you’re still just a twelve-year-
old girl.”
“I know, Mom.”
Midori pressed a kiss to Amu’s forehead and stood up from the table. “Alright,
I’m going to get dressed and I’ll be down in half an hour, honey,” she said to
Tsumugu.
He nodded, smiling. “Alright. Amu and I will clean up the dinner dishes.”
“Thanks guys.” Then, Midori vanished upstairs.
Tsumugu and Amu cleared the table of all the dishes. Tsumugu folded up the
pizza box and tucked it alongside the trashcan. Then, they both turned to the
dishes. The young girl stood at her father’s elbow, drying and putting away the
dishes as Tsumugu washed them. When they finished, her father gently hugged her
for the first time in years.
“You’re such a good girl, Amu,” he murmured.
“Thanks Dad,” she said, tears gathering in her eyes.
Midori came down. “Alright, honey, it’s all yours.”
He nodded and disappeared upstairs to prepare for the meeting.
Amu stared at her mother, awed by how beautiful she was in her sleek silky
black dress with a strand of shining diamonds around her neck and flashing in
her ears. Midori was a woman who could stop a man in his tracks once she put on
a little makeup and a lovely dress. In her youth, she had probably been able to
stop one with far less than that, but life and time had been unkind. Amu wished
that someday she could be as beautiful as her mother was.
Ten minutes later, dressed in his best three-piece suit, Tsumugu came
downstairs.
Midori pressed a kiss to Amu’s cheek. “Have a good night, sweetie.”
“Be good,” Tsumugu said.
Amu smiled at them both. “I will,” she said.
Then, her parents left into the night and Amu was alone in the house. She
didn’t really know what to do with herself so she went upstairs, drew a hot
bath, and settled in for a long soak. Her battered body appreciated the
relaxing warmth and she nearly fell asleep, waking suddenly when her nose went
under and she snorted up water. Quickly, she got out, dried off, and got into
her pajamas. Then, she went to bed, being sure to set her alarm for school the
next day.
…
Ikuto’s alarm went off at nine-thirty, alerting him that he had to leave for
work in half an hour. He pried himself out of bed, his agonized body screaming
in protest. Groaning, he ducked into the bathroom and splashed hot water on his
face, waking himself up a little more. Then, he turned to leave and there was
Kazuomi, blocking his path like a brick wall. Ikuto froze, his heart leaping up
into his throat in shock, horror, and fear.
“Hello Ikuto,” Kazuomi said.
“I,” Ikuto murmured. “I have to leave for work.” He ducked his head and tried
to squeeze past his step-father, but Kazuomi blocked him in with his body,
pinning Ikuto against the wall.
“I missed you this morning. You left for school so early and so fast,” Kazuomi
said, his fingertips brushing Ikuto’s stomach.
Ikuto turned his face away, the hot breath touching his exposed throat. “I need
to leave for work,” he said again, wishing his voice didn’t sound so desperate.
Kazuomi took a step back. “Alright, leave,” he said.
Quickly, before he changed his mind, Ikuto slipped past him and was halfway
down the hallway when Kazuomi called out to him.
“But, if you leave now, I’ll have to seek my pleasure elsewhere,” he said.
Ikuto stopped dead, glancing back over his shoulder. There was no doubt in his
mind that his step-father would rape Utau if Ikuto left now.
“Well, Ikuto,” Kazuomi asked teasingly. “Are you going to leave now?”
“I’m going to be late,” Ikuto whispered in a final attempt to at least make his
step-father wait.
Kazuomi folded his arms over his chest. “I’m ready now.”
Ikuto sucked in a shuddering breath, walked back to the bathroom where Kazuomi
was standing, and peeled off his shirt. Immediately, roughly, his step-father
slammed his back against the vanity, the hard edge digging painfully into
Ikuto’s lower back and sending a stab of sharp pain into his ass. Kazuomi
wasn’t patient enough to let Ikuto undress the rest of the way. He yanked down
the boy’s black jeans and boxers, tossed him up onto the vanity, and prepared
to slam into him.
“Wait,” Ikuto gasped out pleadingly. “Wait.”
Then, he pulled out a tube of lubricant from the medicine cabinet. Kazuomi
swore this boy had some in every room in the house, but that was a good thing.
It wasn’t as fun to slam into him dry though Ikuto’s stifled scream of pain was
pleasant, the tight dry sensation wasn’t. Wet was good. Kazuomi squeezed the
lube onto his cock instead of his fingers as he usually did and began to push
into Ikuto’s thin body without preparing him. Ikuto hissed in pain, his blunt
nails raking into Kazuomi’s shoulders.
Then, Kazuomi was deep inside and began to move, slamming harder and faster
into his step-son’s frail body. Ikuto’s head dropped back, his face turning
away so that Kazuomi couldn’t see the tears gathering in his eyes, but the man
sensed Ikuto’s pain. He grabbed the boy’s chin and forced him to look at him.
The tears glistened on his pale cheeks and Kazuomi licked them away. His tongue
was hot and slimy, earning a shudder of repulsion from Ikuto.
Then, with one final painfully deep thrust, Kazuomi finished. Without a condom,
the salty semen burned the small tears and scratches left behind by the abuse
Ikuto’s body suffered daily. Kazuomi pulled off and wiped himself clean on
Ikuto’s thigh.
“Tight,” he hissed, grabbing Ikuto’s face and forcing the youth to meet his
eyes. “As always.”
Ikuto whimpered, looking away as best he could.
Kazuomi barked a laugh and left the bathroom, leaving Ikuto to clean himself as
best he could and redress. But, without a condom, Kazuomi had guaranteed the
burning pain of salt in Ikuto’s wounds all night and he hadn’t stretched the
boy with his fingers either. No matter what he did, Ikuto was going to be in
anguish. Silently, he redressed and left headed out for work, stopping only
briefly to peek in at Utau. She was lying with her back to him, still and
silent.
Then, Ikuto left.
…
It was ten-fifteen and the night outside the windows of the shop was clear and
bright. The moon looked like a cookie that someone had taken a bite out of,
glowing brightly. Fujisaki Nadeshiko and Nagihiko were bustling around the café
and bookshop, both ready to leave for the night but unable to and worried.
Something must have happened. Ikuto wasn’t there yet and he was always at work
on time, but now he was fifteen minutes late.
“I wonder what happened,” Nagihiko said to his sister.
“I hope nothing bad,” Nadeshiko said to her brother.
The twins looked at each other with concern, each thinking the same things.
What if Ikuto had been in a car accident? What if he was lying, bleeding, in a
ditch somewhere? What if…? But then their dark thoughts stopped because, at
that moment, Ikuto’s night-black Jaguar pulled into the parking lot. Behind the
wheel, Ikuto’s face was chalk-pale and his eyes were dark, almost bruised-
looking.
“Cover,” Nadeshiko said quickly and darted outside before Nagihiko even had a
chance to nod to her.
Nadeshiko met Ikuto in the parking lot, reaching out her hands to touch him.
“Ikuto, are you alright? You look pale.”
Ikuto shied away from her. “I’m fine,” he said. “I just… there was a lot of
traffic.” He took a step, pain spearing through his abused body, racing up and
down his spine.
She stared at him, not appearing to believe a word he said, but thankfully she
didn’t pry. She reached out again and Ikuto allowed her to touch him. Gingerly,
she touched his arm and led him into the café where Nagihiko was waiting with
equal concern in his identical face. No matter how hard he tried, Ikuto
couldn’t repress his hideous limping. It hurt too much, too deeply, in a place
that couldn’t be soothed.
“Everything alright?” he asked Ikuto and then Nadeshiko.
“Everything’s fine,” Ikuto assured his friend. “You two head out. I’ve got it
covered.”
“Are you sure?” Nadeshiko asked kindly.
He nodded, giving them each a little push. “Go on home. Thanks for covering for
me,” he said softly.
“No problem,” Nagihiko said.
Nadeshiko touched Ikuto’s thin shoulder. “We’re your friends, Ikuto.”
“Thanks,” he said again.
The twins collected each other, taking off their aprons, and Nadeshiko grabbed
her purse. Then, the two stepped out into the night, climbed into their shared
vehicle, and left. Gratefully, Ikuto leaned against the wall for a minute, just
breathing and composing himself. Then, he steeled himself for the pain and
began to work through his long graveyard shift, sore and aching inside.
But he could accept it.
It was all for Utau, to protect Utau. He was her big brother and he had to
protect her to the death of his body—it was what his angel mother would have
wanted. Knowing that he was still watching over Utau, even protecting her from
this, he was certain she was smiling down on him from heaven.
…
Hoshina Utau had been on her way to bed at nine-thirty when Ikuto was on his
way out for work. She walked through the kitchen towards the bathroom, hoping
to talk to Ikuto for a little while before he left for work. She also had to
brush her teeth before she went to bed so she was killing two birds with one
stone. But, then, she heard Ikuto and her step-father’s low voices.
“Hello Ikuto,” Kazuomi said coolly.
“I… I have to leave for work,” Ikuto said and Utau didn’t like the sound of the
tremor in his voice.
“I missed you this morning,” he said softly, his voice teasingly sultry. “You
left for school so early and so fast.”
“I need to leave for work,” Ikuto said almost desperately.
There was a moment of silence and then Kazuomi said, “Alright, leave.”
Utau heard Ikuto’s quick footsteps as he hurried to escape their step-father.
Then, Kazuomi called out, “But, if you leave now, I’ll have to seek my pleasure
elsewhere.”
Ikuto’s hurried footsteps stopped dead and Utau heard him inhale sharply. Her
heart began to pound, her throat going dry and her palms damp with sweat. ‘Seek
pleasure elsewhere?’ What did that mean? Where else could he seek it unless…
did he intend to rape her instead of Ikuto? Was Ikuto… protecting her from this
at such a high cost to himself?
“Well, Ikuto, are you going to leave now?”
“I’m going to be late,” Ikuto whispered pleadingly.
“I’m ready now,” Kazuomi said.
Utau heard Ikuto take a shuddering breath and she peeked around the end of the
hallway from the kitchen. Her brother was standing there, taking his shirt off
with his pale back to her, and Kazuomi was standing farther down the hallway,
his arms folded and a cold smile on his face. Thankfully, his eyes were
fastened to Ikuto and he didn’t see Utau. Shirtless and pale, Ikuto walked
towards their step-father like a condemned man.
Once he was within arm’s reach, Kazuomi grabbed him and slammed him into the
bathroom. Utau heard the sound of her brother’s frail body hitting the vanity
even down the hallway and the ensuing sharp cry of pain. Then, she didn’t hear
much more then silence. She crept down the hallway, intending to duck into her
bedroom and hide from what was happening, but curiosity guided her feet towards
the bathroom. She peeked around the threshold, her heart thundering.
Ikuto was seated on the vanity, naked. Goosebumps stood out all over his pale
flesh and his shoulders were curved in protectively. Kazuomi crushed between
his long thin legs, naked as well, his erection a large and frightening pole.
Ikuto’s whole body didn’t seem as thick as that shaft looming beneath him.
Utau’s eyes filled with tears of horror. This was worse than seeing him naked
on Kazuomi’s bed—this was actually seeing him raped.
“Wait, wait,” Ikuto begged suddenly, trying to push Kazuomi back.
Then, he pulled a tube of lubricant from the medicine cabinet and pressed it
into Kazuomi’s hand. Their step-father rubbed the lube on his erection and then
began to push into Ikuto’s thin body. For a moment, Utau didn’t even think it
would fit inside him, but somehow, it did. Ikuto hissed, raking Kazuomi’s
shoulders with his nails. Kazuomi began to thrust hard and fast, prying tears
from Ikuto’s eyes. The tears rolled down his cheeks and Kazuomi gripped his
face, licking the tears away sickeningly. He pulled out of Ikuto, some blood
and semen dripping on the tile.
Utau stumbled backwards from the bathroom and raced down the hall to her
bedroom. She tore off her clothes, stuffed herself into her pajamas, and hurled
her body into bed. She lay down with her back to the door and tried to banish
those images from her mind, but those words and pictures just kept coming back.
‘Seek pleasure elsewhere…?’
Soft footsteps came down the hallway and she heard her bedroom door ease open.
Her heart throbbed. What if it was Kazuomi, seeking his pleasure elsewhere? But
the door eased quietly closed and she realized that it had only been Ikuto,
checking on her. Her heart throbbed. She wanted to get up and talk to him, to
find out what was really going on, but she didn’t.
She couldn’t.
What if she found out what exactly ‘seeking pleasure elsewhere’ meant? What if
it meant that Ikuto was protecting her from their step-father’s sexual abuse?
What if it meant that she owed him everything she thought she was? What if he
was going through all that…? She wished there was something she could do to
help him. She wished she could make him feel better, to ease some of his pain.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** He's Strange? *****
I needed a little superfluous time skip. Who cares about three boring weeks of
school? I know I don’t. I’ve had enough of it over the years.
READ THIS NOTE! Everyone whining about how there are no Amuto moments yet… Get.
Over. It. For all intents and purposes, they haven’t even met yet. I’m teasing
you all. It will get there, slowly and realistically, trusting slowly like hurt
people do. By the time they kiss, you all will have been begging for it. So,
stop whining already. READ THIS!
                                     X X X
Three weeks passed in the monotonous routine of school life.
Ikuto had finally trained all his teachers to call him by Tsukiyomi rather than
Hoshina. He still worked at the Café Cat’s Eye from ten at night until four in
the morning. His step-father still destroyed his body in Utau’s place. The only
thing he had really changed was when and how he bought lube from the pharmacy.
Now that school had started, he didn’t want to risk anyone seeing and
recognizing him. So, wearing a jacket and a hat, he purchased the lube late at
night or early in the morning either before or after work.
Amu’s life at home had passed gently and calmly. Her parents hadn’t hurt her
and she hadn’t even needed makeup to cover her bruises. Maybe it was because
she was being more careful and doing things around the house. Or maybe the raw
ache left behind by Ami’s death was beginning to heal. Or maybe it was simply
because they had both gotten raises at work and had more money now. Either way,
her life was looking up in a way it hadn’t since Ami’s death five years before.
Everything had gone on as usual and without many changes, but with an expanse
of time passing so slowly and without difficulty… something was bound to
happen. And it did.
…
Yuiki Yaya was fairly well-known throughout the high school for her attitude.
Even better was that, depending on who you talked to, her personality changed.
Some people said she was nothing more than a spoiled brat, acting like a baby
all the time. Others said that she was dependable and would always jump in to
help even if there wasn’t much she could do. A few had decided that she was
simply outgoing and carefree and therefore drew people to her like moths to her
bright flame. But only one thing never changed about Yaya. No matter who you
talked to, everyone said she was good at making friends.
This was something Amu discovered after only a few minutes of talking to the
girl.
Yaya was in several of Amu’s classes and they had the same lunch period, but
they had the most fun in their shared art class. Like Amu, Yaya wasn’t much of
an artist (but she painted some fantastic abstract pieces in bright colors and
with powerful energy). Now, seated beside Amu at the large grouped table for
the art class, Yaya had paints and brushes spread all over. Her face and smock
were all smeared with paint. She was chattering exuberantly as she painted.
Suddenly, Yaya leaned over and whispered like someone leaning a conspiracy.
“Ne, Amu-chi,” she hissed. “What do you think of Tsukiyomi Ikuto?”
Amu glanced up from what she was sketching to look at Yaya and then turned her
gaze to the dark-haired boy sitting at the other end of their shared art table.
(The long table seated eight people on tall stools, each with a large section
for projects. Seated at the table were Amu, Yaya, Tsukiyomi (“I don’t answer to
Hoshina”) Ikuto, and a red-haired girl named Yamabuki Saaya. The rest of the
high stools were empty since the class was relatively small.) She quickly
looked back at Yaya.
“Well?” Yaya asked again with equal sneakiness, not that she was incredibly
sneaky because her voice was rather loud.
Ikuto was only sitting across the table from them and Amu was certain he could
hear every word. She tried to hush her friend, worried. He didn’t seem like the
kind of person who liked to be gossiped about. There was something almost…
dangerous about him, catlike, as if all sorts of energy was built up under his
pale skin. As if to prove her nervous point, his wine-dark blue eyes flashed up
from his charcoal drawing, burned into her face, and then lowered again. A
shudder ran through Amu.
“I think he’s totally dreamy,” Yaya continued, oblivious to everything. She
twirled her brush and splattered a slew of red paint across her pale face. “He
almost doesn’t seem human, does he?”
That was true. Human was not a word Amu would have used to describe the dark,
quiet boy seated across the table from her. Feral would have been one of her
first choices, beautiful would have been the second, and oddly enough, hurt was
the last word she would have chosen. Ikuto seemed somehow… hurt and
distrusting.
Yaya gasped suddenly, jolting. She demanded of Amu, “You don’t think he could
be an alien, do you?” (1)
Amu stared at her, dumbstruck. A lot of girls in the high school knew and
fantasized about Ikuto, but Amu was pretty sure this was the first time anyone
had suggested he was a space alien. She glanced at him, but she couldn’t quite
see ‘alien’ plastered on his forehead. “I don’t think so, Yaya,” Amu said to
her friend softly.
Yaya pursed her lips. “Well, what do you think then?”
Amu glanced at him surreptitiously—feral, beautiful, and hurt… That was what he
seemed like to her, but she wouldn’t say any of those things, not with him
sitting so nearby and able to hear her. So, instead, she told Yaya, “I think
he’s strange.”
“Strange?” Yaya repeated, lifting a brow.
Amu nodded.
Yaya stared at him, only looking away when he glanced up and glared at her. “I
guess so,” she admitted to Amu. Then, she smeared a great swath of blue across
the center of her canvas and prattled on about something new. The topic of
Tsukiyomi Ikuto faded away as if it had never existed and Amu didn’t think
anything else about the strange boy. Not until much later, that was.
…
Ikuto stared at the mess of darkness he had smudged all over his sheet of
creamy paper. He wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be and looked away from it
with a soft sigh. He gazed out the window a moment, hoping some inspiration
would strike him.
A butterfly, black and blue and purple—all the shades of a bruise—flit by
outside the window and his thoughts turned abruptly to Utau. He thought of his
sister as a butterfly, fragile and beautiful and not to be touched. He would
protect her frail wings from being touched, torn, and tattered at all costs.
The butterfly lit on a small flower for a moment and then flew away. Ikuto
looked back at his dark smudgy paper and thought about drawing a butterfly, but
he decided against it. A beautiful creature like that… he would never be able
to do it justice.
He sighed, twirling the stick of charcoal in his long thin fingers. The
darkness rubbed off on his skin. Then, he realized that aggravating bubbly girl
Yuiki Yaya was once again talking about him. At least she wasn’t as bad as
Yamabuki Saaya, who had started an even more aggravating fan club over him.
Ikuto slid Saaya a glare just for good measure so that she shrank away on her
stool and then began to black out the remaining white places on his paper.
Absently, he listened to Yaya’s not-so-secret conversation with that rosette-
haired girl who had seen him buying lube in the pharmacy before school had
started. Even though nearly four weeks had passed since then, Ikuto was still
suspicious of her. She knew something about him that he didn’t want anyone to
know. He was waiting for that moment of blackmail, but the girl—whose name he
learned was Hinamori Amu—hadn’t made a move yet.
“Ne, Amu-chi, what do you think of Tsukiyomi Ikuto?” Yaya was saying.
Amu didn’t answer, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Then, she glanced at him
and quickly looked away without speaking.
“Well?” Yaya continued impatiently.
Still, Amu said nothing. She just made a small ‘be quiet’ motion to Yaya.
Yaya was unperturbed by the gesture. “I think he’s totally dreamy. He almost
doesn’t seem human, does he?”
Amu nodded slowly, as if she hadn’t really intended to.
Yaya gasped suddenly as if an epiphany had struck her full-on in the face and
Amu jumped slightly in surprise. “You don’t think he could be an alien, do
you?”
Ikuto nearly snorted out a laugh, but he didn’t want the girls to know he had
been listening to their conversation. Besides, he wanted to know what Amu
thought of him, if she was going to spill about seeing him purchase lube. But
an alien, really? That Yaya had far too much imagination.
A small surprised smile pulled at Amu’s lips. “I don’t think so, Yaya.”
“Well, what do you think then?” Yaya asked again.
Ikuto listened, waiting. Depending on what she thought of him, he could try to
figure out what she was going to do. If she thought he was gorgeous and sexy,
like Yaya, she would probably try to blackmail him for a date. If she was
anything like Saaya, with her scary obsession, he could be on the chopping
block for far more than a date. But who knew, maybe she was poor and knew that
his step-father owned Easter Corporation and she would want money to keep his
secret. Or maybe, hopefully, she had forgotten all about that—but he seriously
doubted that. His face wasn’t one that was easily forgotten.
“I think he’s,” Amu hesitated, “strange.”
“Strange?” Yaya repeated.
Amu nodded.
Yaya was staring at him and he slid her a glare. For a moment, she didn’t seem
bothered in the least by his frosty stare and met his eyes for a moment, but
then she did finally look away. She turned back to her friend, saying, “I guess
so.” Then, she launched into a new conversation about the boy band called
Darts.
Ikuto looked down at his pure-black page. Well, so much for that drawing—it was
just black. He rolled that word around his head while he stared at the paper.
‘Strange…’ He supposed that it was strange for a guy like him to be in the
pharmacy buying lube. He didn’t seem gay, but he was forever turning down the
girls that threw themselves at him. It was strange, but what was Hinamori Amu
going to do with her strange knowledge of him?
He glanced at her again, looking at the profile of her pale face. She hadn’t
been wearing as much makeup lately and her face was rather lovely. She had such
pale rosette hair and big golden-brown eyes and creamy skin. He didn’t
understand why she wore so much thick concealer, especially when there was
nothing wrong with her complexion that he could see. What was her deal?
Suddenly, Yaya jumped up and slammed her hands down on the table, making her
paints and brushes jump. Beside her, Amu flinched hideously, cowering, and
Ikuto saw his opening. It didn’t matter that she had some strange dirt on him.
She was clearly a girl that was easy to bully, afraid of everything, so if he
could just scare her into silence, all his strange secret problems would be
safe. He smiled crookedly. Yeah, everything would be alright if he could just
frighten the hell out of her.
                                     X X X
(1) When I re-read this chapter, I realized that this reminded me a little bit
of that weird old movie “Earth Girls are Easy” where these three fuzzy colorful
aliens crash-land on earth. A girl shaves all the fuzz off and underneath,
they’re all sexy! (Or are supposed to be… I don’t find any of them particularly
lovely… at least not when compared with Ikuto…) But Ikuto’s sexiness does seem
to be out of this world, doesn’t it? Kind of superfluous, but that’s what this
reminded me of.
Questions, comments, concerns?
REVIEW!
***** The Roof and the Rain *****
Ah, Ikuto. I hope he’s aware that this is a very bad plan of his… You shouldn’t
go bullying and scaring the crap out of your future love.
                                     X X X
At the end of the school day, Amu walked to her locker alone. Yaya had peeled
off halfway down the hall, racing off like her ass was on fire, yelling and
shouting all the while. Amu spun her combination into her lock more out of
habit than actually knowing what it was, like most students did. She stuffed in
her heavy textbooks, took out her purse containing all her makeup, and
collected what she needed for her homework that night.
It was then that she saw it. A sheet of paper had been somehow taped to the
interior door of her locker. She grabbed it, opening the half-hearted fold, and
quickly read the note. ‘Meet me on the roof.’ That was it—that was all it said,
pure and simple.
Amu stared at it, dumbstruck, for a minute. She had no idea who had sent it to
her or how on earth they had managed to tape it to the inside of her locker.
Her first impulse was to throw it away, ignore it, and move on with her day,
but curiosity picked at the back of her brain.
She tucked the note into her pocket, shouldered her backpack, checked her watch
to make sure she wouldn’t miss the bus, and headed for the stairs that led to
the roof. Students weren’t supposed to go up there, but she was willing to be
sneaky and go up anyway.
Amu slithered along the wall, crept up the stairs, and pushed the door open.
For a moment, the bright afternoon sunlight blinded her and she covered her
face with one hand, squinting between her fingers around the roof. She didn’t
see anyone.
Then, behind her, she heard the sound of the door banging shut and locking. Her
heart knocked painfully against her ribs and she suddenly couldn’t get in a
deep enough breath. What was going to happen to her now? Had she walked
unknowingly into the arms of a pervert that was going to rape her? Or into a
bully who was going to beat her senseless? Or something worse? She was such a
fool! She whirled around, her parched lungs too starved to scream.
But standing there, one pale long-fingered hand on the closed door, wasn’t a
pervert, a rapist, or a bully.
It was Tsukiyomi (I won’t answer to Hoshina) Ikuto. He was leaning there
languidly, one hand braced against his hip and legs crossed over each other,
his back against the stone wall. He must have been pressed in the shadow of the
door, waiting for her to come up. In his dark uniform, the black fabric
clinging to his long legs and thin shoulders, he looked a little frightening,
but still immaculately handsome. Even so, Amu still thought he was feral and
damaged, if not beautiful and strange.
“Hinamori Amu.” It was a statement, not a question.
She swallowed and nodded.
He stepped away from the closed door, his movements lithe and catlike, almost
as if he was stalking her. Amu did suddenly feel like his prey and she found
herself backing away in reflex, eyes growing wide. His wine-dark eyes were
frightening and she became aware of how much taller and older he was. If he
wanted, he could just break her in half.
“Wait, please,” she whispered, but her voice came out a mere squeak.
Ikuto continued his frightening advance on her until she felt the edge of the
roof at her heel. She wind-milled frantically, unable to decided which was
worse—a deadly or severely damaging plummet to the ground two stories below or
Ikuto’s dangerous body a few inches in front of her. Thankfully, Ikuto didn’t
seem interested in killing her. His long fingers closed around her upper arm
and pulled her away from the edge, but didn’t release her. In fact, his fingers
dug into her soft flesh like knives.
“Listen to me, Hinamori Amu,” he snarled.
“O-okay,” she whimpered fearfully.
His lips pulled into a mean grin. “Don’t tell anyone what you saw that day,” he
hissed.
Her golden-brown eyes widened. “T-that day?” she whispered.
He dug his fingers into her arm harder, deeper, painfully. He was certain he
was leaving behind bruises. He growled, “You know damn well what day.”
She cried out softly, trying to pull her arm from his wounding grasp.
“If you tell anyone about it, I’ll make your life miserable.”
“P-please,” she whispered. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shook her cruelly. “I mean it,” he growled.
Tears welled in her golden eyes. “P-please, I don’t know—”
Holding her in place with one hand, Ikuto raised his free hand threateningly,
not that he ever intended to actually strike her.
Even so, Amu flinched away, a small cry tearing from her throat. “No!” she
gasped.
“That day in the pharmacy,” Ikuto snarled at her, giving her another shake.
“T-the p-p-pharmacy?” she repeated, shuttering.
He waited, watching her face.
A moment of silence passed as she thought. “You… you got down that… b-b-box of
band-aids down for me…?” she whispered questioningly.
“Shit!” he swore softly.
Amu flinched again, her body shaking like a leaf and he loosened his hold on
her upper arm. “P-please,” she whispered desperately.
Ikuto realized that he had screwed up. She had clearly forgotten the incident
and now he had reminded her of it. He let go of her sharply, practically
throwing her arm down. She staggered away from him, her hand flying to cup her
injured arm. He turned, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked away.
Amu slid to her knees, tears welling in her eyes from both the pain in her arm
and the shock of what had happened. She hardly knew Ikuto so why was he doing
this to her? Just because she had been talking about him with Yaya in art
class? Desperately, she tried to think of the reason Ikuto would have
confronted her like this, hissing and snarling like a cornered cat. Then she
realized why he had done this. That day in the pharmacy, she had seen him
buying that tube of lubricant, trying to hide it within his long-fingered
hands. Was he…?
“Wait!” she called out.
Ikuto stopped, but didn’t turn to face her.
“Are you… are you gay?” she whispered. “Is that the… secret…?”
He whirled around, glaring at her, but more angry with himself. If he had just
kept this moment to himself, he would have been alright. Amu had forgotten all
about seeing him buy lube and he had stupidly reminded her. He snarled, “Shut
up!”
Amu flinched. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.
Ikuto stood there, caught between wanting to shout at her and kicking himself.
“You… you don’t have to worry,” Amu whispered. “I won’t… tell anyone, okay?”
“You’d better not,” he snapped. “Or else I’ll make your life living hell.”
She nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Then, Ikuto turned away and left her there on the roof, crying and shell-
shocked. He tried to compose himself, but couldn’t get over his own stupidity.
He was so paranoid and hurt inside that he just jumped to the conclusion that
everyone was out to get him. But not everyone was looking for his weaknesses
and vulnerabilities like his step-father was. He stalked down the stairs,
through the school, and met Utau out at the black Jaguar in the student parking
lot behind the school.
“Hey, Ikuto. Where were you?” she asked.
“My locker was stuck,” he said bitterly.
“Oh,” Utau said and slid into the passenger seat.
Ikuto got behind the wheel and peeled out of the parking lot. Utau gazed out
the window, wondering what had tied her brother’s tail in a knot. She had never
seen him so agitated, even after she knew their step-father had had his way
with Ikuto’s body. Running out of the school, chasing the leaving buses, was a
rosette-haired girl.
“Ah, Ikuto, look,” Utau said and gestured to the girl. “Maybe we should give
her a ride. She looks like she’s been crying.”
Ikuto glanced out the window, saw Hinamori Amu desperately following the yellow
bus, and chose to ignore his little sister. Another time, he would have stopped
and offered her a ride as Utau had suggested, but right now… there was no way
he was stopping for Amu.
“Ikuto?” Utau asked as the school and girl streaked by. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he said coldly, but he had been foolish.
He had hurt that girl for no reason and she was probably already hurting. In
doing so, he had also trapped himself at her mercy. So long as she was afraid
of him, his secret was safe, but if she got some courage, he would be in a bad
place. He had only given her more power over him—he would have to be certain
she stayed afraid of him and he had a feeling it was going to be fairly easy.
The girl was like a terrified kitten, cowering in his shadow. Though he didn’t
want to hurt her or anyone else, he had no choice now and it was his own damn
fault.
…
After Ikuto left the roof, Amu took a few minutes to gather herself together.
She didn’t realize just how much time she had spent sitting there until she
heard the buses start up, engines growling and snarling. With a start, she
jolted up and raced through the school. But it was too late, the buses were all
leaving. She waved her arms and shouted desperately, but they didn’t stop.
Behind the glass windows, she could see students laughing and talking, but no
one saw her or if they did, they made no move to help her.
A moment later, a black Jaguar drove passed her—Ikuto and his younger sister,
Utau, inside. They didn’t stop either, even though her eyes met Utau’s as they
passed.
Amu’s eyes filled with helpless tears as everyone left the parking lot and she
was standing there alone. She had missed the bus. What was she going to do? She
couldn’t call her parents and she couldn’t stay here. She had no choice, she’d
just have to start walking and hopefully she’d get home before Midori and
Tsumugu did. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Amu started walking, her head
bowed in shame as the tears rolled down her face.
To top it all off, it began to rain. But at least then, no one could tell that
she was crying.
…
Fujisaki Nadeshiko and Nagihiko had their afterschool club to attend and then
were going home. The twins shouldered their nearly identical backpacks (the
bags used to be completely identical, but Nagihiko had picked up Nadeshiko’s
bag a few too many times and didn’t care to have his friends ask why he was
carrying tampons again. Now, Nadeshiko’s bag had a girly sakura blossom charm
dangling off of it). They headed out into the grey afternoon, neither having
thought to grab the umbrella before they left. They never picked umbrellas
unless it was raining when they left the house.
The twins rushed through the light rain to their car. They had pooled their
money after getting their licenses and bought a safe but affordable 2004
Volkswagen Jetta in plain silver which they shared very easily. Nadeshiko slid
behind the wheel and Nagihiko jumped in the passenger seat since he didn’t like
to drive in the rain.
They had gotten off the school campus and were a few blocks away when Nadeshiko
saw her—the rosette haired girl that was in a few of Nadeshiko’s classes and
her lunch period. She was walking along the side of the road, arms wrapped
around herself, soaked to the bone and without an umbrella.
“Where could she be going?” Nadeshiko asked her twin.
Nagihiko pried his eyes away from his math homework and looked up. “I don’t
know. Maybe she missed the bus?”
“But it’s raining,” Nadeshiko said, squinting through the rain. “She should
have had someone come pick her up.”
As if reading her mind, Nagihiko said, “So offer her a ride. If she turns out
to be a serial killer, I think we can take her.”
Nadeshiko slid her brother a small smile and pulled over beside the girl. “I
think her name is Amu. Hinamori Amu,” she said.
Nagihiko rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “Hey, you’re Hinamori
Amu, right?”
The rosette haired girl jolted slightly, shivering in the cold rain. “Yeah,”
she said softly.
Nadeshiko leaned over her brother. “We have gym together. I’m Fujisaki
Nadeshiko,” she explained. “Can we give you a ride somewhere?”
Amu stared at them both warily for a minute and then smiled faintly. “I’d
really like that, but I’m… soaking wet.”
Nadeshiko looked at Nagihiko, “Give her your towel from your swimming class,”
she said to her brother. “And just get in, Amu. The seats are leather and we
can dry them off later.”
“Thanks,” Amu whispered and pulled open the rear door of the Jetta, clambering
into the backseat. Nagihiko handed her his towel and she dried her face and
hair as best she could. The towel smelled nice, the shampoo boys used really
was different than the strawberry shampoo she used.
Then, Nadeshiko asked the dreaded question. “So, what are you doing out in the
rain?”
“Did you miss the bus?” Nagihiko asked as soon as his sister finished speaking.
Amu wrung her hands. Did she tell them that Ikuto had threatened her? That his
fingers had let dark bruises on her pale skin? That he had some dark secret
involving lubricant? She had a feeling she shouldn’t say anything. “I just…
missed the bus,” she said. “My locker got… stuck.”
“That seems to happen a lot in this school,” Nadeshiko remarked. “Ikuto’s
locker gets stuck occasionally too.”
“Ikuto?” Amu squeaked out.
Nagihiko glanced at Amu in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, we work with him. Do you
know him?”
“Everyone knows him,” Nadeshiko put in. “He’s the school heartthrob.”
“I don’t understand why,” Nagihiko grumbled.
Nadeshiko slid her twin a smile. “That’s because you’re a guy and you’re not
gay. If you were a girl, you’d understand that Ikuto is a total hottie.”
Nagihiko rolled his eyes.
“So,” Nadeshiko continued. “You know Ikuto?”
“He’s in my art class,” Amu offered softly.
“Is he much of an artist?” Nagihiko asked.
“I don’t really know,” Amu said.
“Quit pestering her, Nagi,” Nadeshiko snapped. “So, where do you live, Amu?”
Amu gave the girl her address and sat back, watching the twins banter lightly
back and forth. She tried to relax, shivering in her wet clothes and skin. They
seemed so comfortable together and Amu wondered if she and Ami would have been
this close had Ami lived.
Nadeshiko and Nagihiko dropped Amu off at her house, bidding her farewell.
Nadeshiko promised to give Amu her phone number in gym the next day so Amu
could call if she ever needed anything. Then, the twins watched Amu walk into
her once-white worn-down house.
“She seems… strange,” Nagihiko said softly. “Why didn’t she call anyone to pick
her up? I mean, it’s raining.”
“Maybe she doesn’t have anyone who can pick her up,” Nadeshiko said. “Maybe
both her parents work.”
“No friends? No siblings? No other family members?”
“Nagi, let it go,” Nadeshiko said and pulled away from the house. “Some things
just are. Like how Ikuto works the night shift. Who in their right mind wants
to work from ten at night to four in the morning on a school night?”
Nagihiko stared at her. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”
“I’m sure Amu does too,” Nadeshiko said. “So let it go.”
Nagihiko sighed. “Well, we’d better get to work. I’m hungry. Let’s stop for a
quick burger,” he said.
“Sure, sure.” Nadeshiko tucked some long hair behind her ear, glancing at Amu’s
house in the rearview mirror. She couldn’t shake the sudden feeling of concern
that settled in her heart. Honestly, she agreed with her brother. No one should
be so alone that they were walking home alone in the rain. What was wrong with
Amu’s home life?
                                     X X X
Ah, Ikuto and Amu finally really met. Too bad it had to be this way.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Yamabuki Saaya's Flawed Action *****
Ah, I got Rule of Rose for my PS2 and I’m having such a hard time prying myself
away from it. It’s such an awesome game! So creepy! Kyaa!
                                     X X X
Amu arrived home late and exhausted, her feet and back aching and chilled to
the bone. She hadn’t realized how far she lived from school until she had to
walk even part of the distance. Thank goodness Nadeshiko and Nagihiko had
offered to give her a ride. At least she had made it home before her parents.
Quickly, she went upstairs to shower and change into her pajamas. Then, she sat
down at her desk and started doing her homework. She was so busy and frustrated
with her math that she didn’t even hear her parents come in.
That was the first nail in her coffin and the second was that she had gotten
home so late that she hadn’t made an effort to clean the house at all.
The third and final nail was the tank top she was wearing that exposed the
bruises Ikuto’s fingers had left on her arm.
Midori knocked on the door and then opened it, smiling at her remaining
daughter. “Amu, what’s the matter? You didn’t clean up downstairs like you
usually do. Are you sick?” her mother asked kindly. Then, she saw the bruises
wrapped like a bracelet around Amu’s upper arm and a banshee shriek that
immediately brought her husband running escaped her mouth. “What are those?”
she shouted, pointing wildly.
Amu was stunned and then she realized the dark marks on her arm. She grabbed a
jacket and yanked it on. “They’re nothing, Mom. I… I… I…” but she couldn’t
think of a plausible lie fast enough and her mother realized that anything that
came out of her mouth now would be an out-and-out lie.
Midori swung on her, her wedding ring cutting into the soft skin beneath Amu’s
eye. “You got into a fight at school, didn’t you?” the woman shouted, enraged.
“I didn’t,” Amu whimpered out, shielding her stomach and face as best she
could.
“You did! Ami would never act this way! Ami would never have gotten into a
fight at school!”
Amu sobbed as the punch sent her reeling with a crash to the cold floor.
Then, Tsumugu was in the threshold of the door. “What’s going on?” he demanded
of them.
“Amu got into a fight at school and lied to me about it!” Midori shouted to her
husband, her eyes wild.
Tsumugu’s face went red with rage and his shiny work loafer caught Amu under
the chin. Her teeth snapped together and she bit her lip, teeth sinking through
it. Blood filled her mouth and she cried out, the blood splattering across the
hardwood floor. Her parents abruptly pulled back from the beating, sobered by
the sight of blood.
“Don’t do it again,” Tsumugu snarled after a moment of stunned silence.
Midori hissed as she left, “Ami wouldn’t do that…”
They closed Amu’s door behind them.
“But… I’m not Ami,” she whispered. “I’m Amu.”
But no one was listening to her.
After a moment, sobbing, Amu scraped herself off the floor and leaned against
her bed, legs drawn tightly against her chest. She buried her face in her
folded arms, crying hopelessly for everything she had done wrong and the pain
her small fragile body was put through.
Why did this keep happening to her?
Things had been so good—if only Ikuto hadn’t grabbed her and left those bruises
on her skin, if only she could be better then Ikuto wouldn’t have threatened
her and her parents wouldn’t hurt her… Besides, being gay wasn’t something
horrible that he needed to hide, was it? Or was the lube something more,
something darker? Maybe he was a bad person too, someone who deserved to be
hurt and punished. Maybe that was his secret that he didn’t want known.
…
When Utau and Ikuto arrived at the mansion, Ikuto went straight to bed without
a care or concern for his homework. Utau, on the other hand, sat at the desk by
the window in her bedroom. The light rain was pattering softly on the glass of
her window like a ghost begging entrance. She gnawed on the end of her pencil,
trying to think of a topic for her sonnet poem, but her mind kept returning
unwillingly to what she had seen the other night.
Her step-father raping her brother.
And those words… ‘I’ll seek my pleasure elsewhere…’
What could it all mean?
Utau pushed away the poem and took out brainstorming pages for her latest song.
She always wrote the lyrics and Ikuto helped her write the music. He did so
much for her, maybe more than she even realized if he was protecting her from
their step-father. She owed him, but what could she do for him?
There didn’t seem to be anything she could do to help him and she certainly
couldn’t protect him, not when he was sacrificing so much to protect her. She
sighed heavily, chewing the pencil, and tried to think. Her brain was so
muddled and the phrase ‘clear as mud’ came to mind.
“You’re going to ruin your teeth,” Ikuto said suddenly.
Utau jumped and whirled to face him in her desk chair. He was standing in the
threshold, watching her softly. “I know,” she said. “It’s a bad habit.”
He smiled softly. “I’m leaving for work.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Go to bed on time,” he reminded her since it was ten o’clock.
She glowered at him. “I know. I’m not five anymore!”
A strange expression crossed Ikuto’s face, but he shook his head and bowed out.
A moment later, Utau heard the front door close and saw Ikuto leave in the
Jaguar. She sighed, started to chew on her pencil, and lowered it from her
mouth in realization.
“Ikuto,” she whispered.
…
Over the course of the next week, Ikuto watched Hinamori Amu closely for signs
of treachery. She was acting a little strange, flinching from him every time he
came within inches of her in their shared art class out of what he supposed was
fear. He also noticed that her pretty pale face was caked with makeup and
concealer once again. She didn’t seem very lively anymore either, even when she
was talking to Yaya who brought out the exuberance and excitement in everyone.
Either way, Amu didn’t seem like she was going to spill his dark secret anytime
soon.
In fact, she seemed to be downright avoiding him and everyone else in school,
even her friend Yaya and Fujisaki Nadeshiko who approached her during lunch.
Amu kept her head lowered in the halls, her eyes downcast, her pale red hair
hanging over her face like a curtain, and her mouth was shaped into a perpetual
frown. She even ate lunch alone.
There was definitely something bizarre about Hinamori Amu.
Or maybe Ikuto had just frightened her within an inch of her life.
Even so, Ikuto kept his eye on her throughout the week, wary for signs of
anything and everything. Amu was quiet, she didn’t talk to anyone, she turned
in all her homework on time, and she avoided Ikuto the moment she saw him
coming. He had made a deep impression on her—I’ll make your life a living
hell—and it had clearly stuck. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t have to worry
about her spilling his secret any time soon. She was firmly under his thumb and
he was safe from her.
…
Yamabuki Saaya was the kind of person who only took action after the fact. A
week ago, she had heard Amu called Tsukiyomi Ikuto ‘strange’ and she should
have said something then, but she hadn’t. She needed time to think, to plan, to
consider all her options. She was not the kind of person who was useful in a
crisis. In fact, she was only useful if time could be paused while she was
given time to think. But, if given time, she was often able to come up with
something brilliant.
Now, she decided to confront Hinamori Amu about what she had said.
Tsukiyomi Ikuto wasn’t strange. He was a god among insects. He was beautiful.
He was like a panther, lithe and thin and untouchable. All the girls wanted
him, but no one quite dared approach him. He seemed untouchable, almost
inhuman. Saaya was forced to admit that Yaya’s remark about Ikuto being an
alien from another planet didn’t seem quite so off the mark. There was
something about him that set him apart from everyone else in the school—but he
wasn’t strange. No, he wasn’t strange.
Saaya brushed her red curls over her shoulder and decided to corner Amu at
lunch when she was eating outside alone. Saaya went over her plan one more time
in her head and made her way outside into the bright buttery afternoon.
Amu was sitting in the shade of a tree, head bowed over a book with an apple in
her hand. When Saaya’s shadow fell across her, she looked up nervously, golden-
brown eyes bright with nervous fear. “Hi… Saaya,” Amu murmured. “Is something
wrong?”
Saaya crouched beside her, the black-and-white pleated skirt falling across her
thighs. Absently, she selected a lock of Amu’s pale hair and began braiding it.
“Actually,” she said softly. “There is.”
Amu shuddered softly. “What is it?” she asked.
Saaya tugged the braided strip of hair, not quite painfully but hard. “It’s
about Ikuto,” she said.
Amu’s eyes widened. “What about Ikuto?”
“It’s about what you said about him,” Saaya said.
Desperately, Amu stuttered out, “What?”
“He’s not strange,” Saaya said. “He’s gorgeous and I want you to stay away from
him. You’re out to hurt him, aren’t you, Hinamori Amu?”
“N-no,” Amu choked out.
Saaya yanked hard on the braid, nearly pulling Amu over. “Stay away from him
and stop talking about him,” she snarled. “He’s mine.”
“I understand,” Amu whispered. “Please, let go.”
Saaya pulled again one final time, a few strands pulling out in her hand. “Stay
away from Ikuto. Don’t look at him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t say anything about
him. He’s mine,” she hissed. Then, she got to her feet, brushed off her skirt,
and walked away as if she hadn’t just been threatening Amu.
Amu set aside her apple, not hungry anymore, and pulled her legs up to her
chest. She pressed her hand to her aching scalp and swallowed tears. What had
she done to deserve this? To be tormented at home and at school? Was she really
that bad of a person? Did she really deserve to hurt this much?
…
Ikuto was sitting a few feet away and had happened to overhear Saaya’s
conversation with Amu.
Though he didn’t appreciate Saaya saying that he was hers, he was shocked to
find out that Amu had been talking about him even after he had threatened to
make her life a living hell. He was certain that he had frightened Amu within
an inch of her life so that she wouldn’t say anything about him. Apparently, he
hadn’t threatened her as well as he had thought. Cursing inwardly, he decided
he had to have a little conversation with her again. This time, he would have
to try a different tactic, maybe something meaner like Saaya had.
He couldn’t risk her spreading his secret, even if it was the wrong secret. (He
wasn’t gay, but the truth was worse than fiction.)
If only Ikuto knew that it had taken Saaya a week to confront Amu for calling
him ‘strange.’
                                     X X X
Great, now Saaya is threatening Amu. That girl just can’t catch a break. Don’t
worry Amu. At the end of the tunnel, there’s Ikuto.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Ikuto's Realization *****
Alright, I don’t work today and I’m on the last chapter of Darkness Eyes and
once I wrap that up, things should be easier. And by easier, I mean I’m going
to go sit in front of the television and play Rule of Rose all day! Yay!
                                     X X X
When Amu opened her locker and found another note taped to the inside of the
door, her heart leaped up into her throat and choked her. As before it read
simply, ‘Meet me on the roof after school,’ but there was no chance Amu was
going to meet Ikuto again. Who knew what he would do to her this time? Maybe he
was going to kill her.
All it would take was a little push and over the edge she would go, tumbling
down, down, down… until splat!
Instead, she quickly gathered all her books, stuffed them in her backpack, and
hurried to the bus. She was in such a rush that she didn’t even see Ikuto’s
little sister, Utau, walking down the hall. Amu plowed into her back and the
two of them went down in a heap, papers flying everywhere.
“Damn, watch where you’re going,” Utau snapped and scraped herself out from
under Amu’s small body. She began gathering up her papers, grumbling.
“I’m sorry,” Amu whispered and desperately tried to help Utau collect her
fallen possessions. “I’m so sorry.”
“Relax,” Utau said finally and tossed some of her wig’s dark hair back over her
shoulder.
Amu stuttered, handing over a sheet of music and lyrics. “I was in a hurry
and—”
“Utau, what happened?” someone asked.
Amu froze, her blood stopping in her veins as her heart skipped several beats.
That voice…
“I’m fine, Ikuto,” Utau said and reached up. Ikuto’s long-fingered hand closed
gently around Utau’s and pulled her to her feet. He put his hand on her head
and straightened out her dark wig nonchalantly. Utau grumbled at him and
reached up, smoothing down the dark hair. “Jeez,” she said.
“I-I-I have t-t-to go!” Amu stuttered out in horror as she looked up into
Ikuto’s face.
“Wait a minute,” he said sharply and his hand closed around her upper arm.
She winced, a small cry escaping her mouth. “Please don’t!”
Utau looked at her brother sharply. “Ikuto,” she said softly, warningly,
curiously. Why was this freshman girl terrified of him? What had he done to
frighten her? Her brother was such a sweetheart that she didn’t believe he was
capable of hurting anyone. “Ikuto, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Ikuto said to his sister and then turned to Amu. “I want to talk to
you.”
“No!” she gasped out, trying to pull away from him. “I haven’t! I haven’t done
anything! I haven’t said anything! Honest! I haven’t!” Her voice rose with each
word, hysteria taking over as she wildly tried to escape Ikuto’s grasp.
“Please, let me go!”
“Ikuto, what’s going on?” Utau asked, watching the girl struggle wildly.
“Nothing,” he said to her. “I need to talk to Amu. Meet me at the Jag.”
“Let me go!” Amu shrieked, clawing at the back of Ikuto’s hand and prying at
his fingers. “Please, I haven’t said anything! Let me go! Please, please,
don’t!” Tears filled her amber-brown eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she
sucked in desperate breaths of air.
Ikuto didn’t let her go. In fact, he seemed completely oblivious to her screams
and struggles.
Then, all the fight went out of Amu. She collapsed to her knees and pressed her
face into the hand Ikuto didn’t have a grip on. She sobbed desperately, her
entire small frame shaking like a leaf where she was crumpled at Ikuto’s feet.
Ikuto carelessly dragged Amu to her feet and turned away. He cared nothing for
her cries or the attention they were drawing. But Utau’s heart skipped a beat.
In that moment, as she stared at her brother, dragging this girl who was so
much smaller than him against her will, she saw a heartbreaking similarity
between their horrible step-father and his sudden vicious streak. Utau rushed
over to them, pried her brother’s fingers from Amu’s thin wrist, wrapped her
arm around the girl’s thin shoulders, helped her to her feet, and separated
them.
Amu ran like the devil himself was chasing her.
Ikuto grabbed Utau’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“What are you doing?” she shouted at him. “Do you realize what you just looked
like?”
He stared at her, his blue eyes hard. “What?”
“Our step-father,” Utau whispered, tears filling her eyes because she knew the
truth in those words would hurt him badly.
Ikuto froze, the blood draining from his face. “What?” he whispered.
She nodded, a single tear making a path down her face.
Ikuto took a stumbling step back from her, his eyes wide and his face chalk-
pale. “What?” he breathed out.
Utau reached for him, but he continued to shy away from her. “Ikuto,” she
whispered. “Come on, please. Let’s go home.”
He stared at her, wet his pale lips, and then pressed his fingers to the corner
of his mouth where a faint bruise still lingered. A bruise there, Utau
wondered. How could he have gotten a bruise there? He looked like a small
child, defenseless and vulnerable at that moment, as if someone had revealed to
him that the monster in the closet was real. Utau reached for him again and
this time, Ikuto allowed her to take his hand. She led her brother cautiously
from the school to the waiting Jaguar and guided him in behind the wheel.
“Let’s go home,” she said to him again.
As if on autopilot, Ikuto turned the key in the ignition and drove away from
school. Utau looked for Amu as they drove, making sure the girl hadn’t missed
the bus, but she didn’t see the rosette-haired girl anywhere. Ikuto pulled into
the garage at the mansion, got out, and went immediately to the bathroom. Utau
heard the water start up and made her way to her room. She sat down at her desk
and started on her latest song, absently listening for the moment her brother
got out of the shower or their step-father came home.
…
Somehow, after Utau pried Ikuto’s fingers off Amu’s wrist, she made it to the
bus. Everything was a blur, clouded with tears in her memories, but somehow,
she got herself home. She came to this sudden realization when she found
herself looking at her front door, hand on the knob, perplexed by the fact that
it wouldn’t open. (Though that wasn’t a strange event. Amu had a key to get in
and the house was always locked when she came home from school.) Even so, she
stared at the door for a full minute, uncomprehending.
Then, a fresh wave of tears rolled down her face as she fished out her key,
plugged it into the lock, and let herself into the house. She made her way
quickly up the stairs to her bedroom, dropped her backpack, and flopped face-
down on the bed. She sobbed into her pillow, clutching it to her chest.
What had she done to Ikuto to make him hate her so much?
Was it just because she said that he was strange? But Yaya had called him an
alien and he hadn’t freaked out about that.
Was it because she had seen him buying lube in the pharmacy or because she knew
he was gay?
Or was he a just a hateful person and knew that she deserved to be tormented?
Amu whimpered softly and clutched the pillow. Then, she did something she
hadn’t dared do in years. Silently, she rose from her bed and tip-toed down the
hall as if her parents would magically appear and catch her at any moment. But
she made it to the door unscathed—no one appeared to stop her, no ghost
materialized before her, nothing happened at all. Amu hesitated anyway, her
hand on the doorknob, trembling. But she pulled herself together and opened the
door gingerly, sending dust bunnies scattered across the floor. A waft of musty
air swept out at her, making her cough.
Ami’s room was exactly as it had been when she died, save a film of dust that
covered everything.
The toys she had been half-heartedly playing with the day she died were still
lying in the middle of the floor. Her bed was still unmade with princess sheets
and the slew of medications she had been taking all waiting patiently on the
nightstand to be ingested. Even, her dirty clothes were lying unwashed in the
corner, heaped there with a single hospital gown. On the dresser was a vase of
dead flowers, their petals scattered and wilted. It was tomb in the middle of
the house, an altar to Ami’s lost life. It had been untouched, just like the
bottle of syrup in the refrigerator that had long gone bad, but no one threw it
out.
Amu lingered in the doorway, not daring to enter and disturb the dust or
sanctuary.
“Ami?” she whispered into the silent stillness of the tomblike bedroom. “If
you’re listening… can you help me to make Mom and Dad happy… with me? Or tell
me why… the people at school… hate me?” She paused, listening for the angel’s
answer. “Ami?”
But no angel answered her.
Silence reigned in the dusty room. Amu sighed and slowly closed the door once
again. She carefully wiped her fingerprints off the knob and stood staring at
the closed door for a moment. Then, she made her way back down the hall and
returned to her bedroom. Since Ami had died, the little girl Amu had once been
had died too. So had her loving happy parents. All that was left in the wake of
Ami’s death was pain, sorrow, and suffering.
Amu would give anything to have even a semblance of that life back again. She
missed the love. She missed family dinners and birthday parties, the holiday
celebrations and outings. She missed the smiles and openness, the laughter and
hugs. She missed having friends over for dinner and having sleep-overs. The
life she lived now as so closed, so secretive, so dark. She couldn’t confide in
a friend for fear that they would learn of her home life and what a bad person
she was to deserve her punishment. She couldn’t confide in her parents because
they would compare her to Ami.
She was purely alone in the world, without even her sister to confide in. God
had stopped watching over her, the angels had stopped listening, and even Ami
had turned her back on Amu. Was she truthfully that bad? But Tsukiyomi Ikuto
and Yamabuki Saaya had come to hate her in only a few weeks too so it must have
been true.
Tears burned in Amu’s throat. She collapsed in her bed and slept. Thankfully,
her parents didn’t wake her or harm her while she slept.
…
Ikuto practically fell over his own long legs in his hurry to get out of his
school uniform and get into the shower. He managed to avoid looking at his body
in the mirror, fearing that he would see some part of his step-father
superimposed over his own reflection. He didn’t want to risk seeing Kazuomi’s
mean eyes in his own pale face or something even worse.
Viciously, Ikuto scrubbed his body until his hands and feet were cracked and
bleeding. He wanted the feeling of Amu’s body trembling in his hands to leave
him. He wanted Utau’s words to stop ringing in his head, echoing like a
nightmare. He wanted his step-father to stop raping him. He wanted to graduate
and leave this hell with Utau. He wanted to be safe and sheltered and happy. He
wanted the disgusting, used, dirty feelings that plagued his body to leave.
Bloody and sore, he slumped down at the bottom of the shower, arms wrapped
tightly around himself. His hands bled from the rough scrubbing, but he could
still feel Amu’s desperation as she tried to escape him. He had overpowered
her, frightened her, and tormented her—just like his step-father did to him.
How could he not have noticed that while he was gripping her?
The image of her crumpled at his feet, tears rolling down her pale makeup-caked
face, and trying desperately to escape him flashed through his mind. Her softly
whimpered words, “Please, please, don’t! I haven’t said anything! Please, no!”
Her voice had been terrified, small and trembling, and those were the words you
screamed at someone you thought would truly hurt you. Honestly, had he intended
to outright harm her? Amu seemed to think so and Utau said he had looked like
their step-father. That was enough.
Besides, if she had said something about his secret, he would have heard rumors
circling the school, but all had been quiet. Had Saaya been lying? She had
insisted that Ikuto was hers and that wasn’t true. It wouldn’t have been a far
stretch for the rest of her story to be a lie. Even worse, if Saaya had been
lying or stretching the truth, Ikuto had threatened and terrified Amu for no
reason. He really was a horrible person for doing that to such a sweet
frightened girl.
Abruptly, the water ran cold and Ikuto realized just how long he had been in
the shower.
He needed to get some sleep before he went to work.
Ikuto scraped himself out of the bottom of the shower, his legs tight and
cramped from being crouched there for so long. Being careful not to get blood
on his white towel, he slung it around his bruised hips and then wrapped his
hands with band-aids. Peeking out of the bathroom to make sure Utau was still
in her room and wouldn’t see his hands in this bloodied condition, he made a
quick path to his room. The door was hanging off its ruined hinges, but Ikuto
closed himself in anyway—though not without some difficulty.
Quickly, he stuffed himself into pajamas and lay down, curled up tightly around
himself. He needed to get some sleep before he left for work. After tonight,
the weekend lay blissfully before him—not that there was much bliss waiting. He
would go to work as usual, protect Utau as usual, and everything else would go
on as usual. Kazuomi would also probably find time to take him, as usual.
But he promised himself that on Monday, he would find Amu and apologize to her.
Maybe it was better to make friends with the person who knew his secret than to
terrify her. In all sorts of movies and books, the people who ruled their
friends with fear were always beaten and betrayed by the people who were kind
and friendly to each other.
It was like a rule of drama, if not of life.
                                     X X X
Alright, Ikuto sees the error of his ways. Things should start looking up now,
right?
Questions, comments, concerns?
Reviews?
***** Love and Hate Sundays: Pt I *****
Wow, this chapter came out crazy long… and I divided it into two parts!
                                     X X X
Amu looked forward to the weekend with a sort of love-hate relationship. Yes,
she had no school which meant she didn’t have to fear Ikuto and Saaya finding
her, hurting her, or threatening her. But she was also home—home alone with her
parents and Ami’s ghost.
Her parents worked on Saturdays so she had the house to herself, peaceful and
quiet and lonely. Often, she cleaned the whole house from top to bottom, stem
to stern, and attic to basement until it shone and her hands were chapped from
chemicals. Amu usually prepared a nice dinner, too. When her parents came home
Saturday night, they were usually happy with her and even hugged her a little
bit. Saturday was a good day. Saturday was heaven, but on Sunday, the lord’s
day, it was hell.
Sunday was the hate part of the love-hate.
Back when Ami was alive, on Sundays, the Hinamori family used to go to church.
Now, Sunday was the day that no matter what Amu did, they were reminded of the
hole Ami’s death left behind. The lack of church, how God had failed to save
their precious little girl, how they had been abandoned by their faith, the
sermon at Ami’s funeral and her tiny coffin—everything came back as fresh and
raw as it had been five years ago. And Amu suffered for the parts of her that
still reminded them of her little sister. Amu suffered for being alive.
Sunday was the day they asked the question—‘Why did you live while Ami died?’
Especially since it seemed that Amu could do nothing right no matter how hard
she tried and Ami would have done so much better with the life that had been
stolen from her. Even though Amu knew her parents didn’t mean it, Sundays still
hurt her deeply, badly.
She hated Sundays.
Amu woke bright and early Sunday, roused from a hideous nightmare that Ami had
once again risen from her grave. Maybe that was why the angel of her little
sister never smiled upon Amu—because she was always dreaming nightmares of
Ami’s risen corpse. Immediately, Amu got out of bed, dressed in dark jeans and
a t-shirt emblazoned with skulls, said her habitual prayer to Ami even if the
dead girl wasn’t listening, and brushed her teeth. Carefully then, she headed
downstairs.
Midori and Tsumugu were still sleeping and the house was quiet.
Amu let out a soft sigh of relief. Most of the time, they were already awake
when she came down, but if they were still sleeping, maybe she would have a
chance to turn Sunday around. Amu began cooking, taking out eggs and bread and
some sausages. She wouldn’t dare make pancakes or French toast for fear of
reminding them of Ami and the untouched long-bad bottle of syrup in the fridge.
But omelets were safe to cook on Sundays. Amu had just finished when Tsumugu
came down the stairs in his robe and slippers.
“Good morning, Daddy,” Amu called.
Her father jolted and then stared at her, his sleepy face uncertain, as if he
wasn’t sure what exactly he was seeing before him. Then, his eyes came into
focus and he recognized Amu. Disappointment crossed his features. “Oh, Amu,”
was all he said.
“I made omelets,” she offered, still trying.
“I’m not hungry. I’ll just have coffee,” Tsumugu said and moved to turn on the
coffee pot.
“Oh,” Amu said sadly, but tried to think positive. “Do you think Mom will want
something for breakfast?”
“I don’t know, honey,” he said. “It’s Sunday and we need to go to church…” He
stopped suddenly, appearing to realize what he was saying.
Amu flinched softly.
It was always like this on Sundays, the habit of church and faith biting into
their backs. By nature, Sunday was a day for church, but it immediately
reminded her parents of all their hopeless prayers to god to save Ami. Amu
herself had prayed as well, even though she was too young to fully understand.
Ami’s death, God’s abandonment, the pain and loss, Ami’s smile in Amu’s face…
Tsumugu sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands, tears
pricking at the corner of his eyes.
Amu hesitated and then went to gently hug him from the side. “It’s okay,
Daddy,” she whispered.
He pulled away from her. “How will it ever be okay?” he mumbled, more to
himself than to Amu.
“I’m sure Ami is… watching us from Heaven,” Amu whispered because that was what
the priest had said in comfort to the broken family after Ami’s death. The
words had seemed so hollow then and they still sounded that empty now. “She’s
in a better place now, Daddy,” Amu continued.
He slapped her sharply. “How can death be a better place for her, huh?” he
demanded.
Amu’s eyes welled with tears, her hand going to her brutalized cheek. “Daddy,”
she whispered. “Please…”
He slapped her again, once, twice, and shoved her away. “Don’t speak, Amu,” he
hissed. “Get out of my sight. You sound just like the damn priest, saying those
words. How could death ever be a better place for a little girl like her? She
should have lived!”
Amu scrambled aside, knowing if she didn’t get out soon, Tsumugu would wake her
mother with his shouting and they would both hurt her badly because it was
Sunday. She grabbed her shoes, shoved her feet into them, and ran from the
house. Outside, she turned and looked back at the little house. It looked so
normal, a little run-down and in need of some care, but normal. No one would
ever guess what went on behind those walls and closed doors. Amu turned away,
got her bike out of the garage, and left the house for the day. That night, she
was certain they would punish her for leaving, but it would be better than
staying home all day.
…
On Sundays, Ikuto worked Saturday night from ten to four in the morning, went
home on what was technically Sunday for a few hours of sleep and a meal, and
came back for his daytime shift at nine in the morning. His alarm went off at
eight and he yawned, batting at it hopelessly. He was exhausted, his body
aching and his stomach growling. Finally, suddenly, the alarm shut off and
Ikuto stared blearily up at his little sister.
“Utau?” he mumbled.
She smiled, pale face transforming. “Good morning,” she said. “I made you some
breakfast.” Then, she set a tray in his lap with a stack of pancakes, orange
juice, and a peeled sliced apple. “Do you like it? I wanted to help you out
since you came home so late last night and didn’t eat dinner.”
“It’s great, Utau,” Ikuto murmured, smiling faintly. “Thanks.”
She beamed, soaking up the praise. “I also did some of your laundry while you
were sleeping. I hope you don’t mind.”
He shook his head. “Thanks,” he repeated.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Utau asked, smoothing the covers
over his legs.
Ikuto flinched away from her touch, his skin still raw and that filthy feeling
still lingering.
Utau looked sad. “Ikuto, can I… ask you something?”
He patted the side of the bed. “Sit down.”
She did and twisted her fingers in her lap nervously. Ikuto waited for her to
speak, what little he had eaten of her beautiful breakfast felt like a cold
stone in his belly. For a long moment, Utau seemed at war with herself—caught
between what she desperately wanted to ask him, what she knew she shouldn’t
say, and what she wasn’t sure she truly wanted to know. Honestly, what would
she do if she found out her brother was being raped to protect her? She
suddenly decided that she didn’t want to know the truth.
“Nothing,” she said and stood up. “Never mind.”
Ikuto let out a soft sigh of relief he didn’t know he had been holding.
“I need you to drop me off at the recording studio at Easter before you leave
for work, okay?”
“No problem,” he said and handed Utau the tray of breakfast. “Here, you finish
this.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you like it?”
“It’s delicious,” he assured her. “I’m just… We need to hurry.”
Utau nodded, took the tray, and left his room.
Ikuto lay in bed a moment longer, collecting himself for the day. When he felt
certain he would cry out in pain upon standing, he got out of bed and got
dressed. Grabbing the keys to the Jaguar, he met Utau in the kitchen, ready to
leave and smiling. He squeezed her shoulder gently, reminded of why he went
through his hell daily—to protect that smile.
Then, Ikuto noticed his step-father standing in the hallway, wearing only a
robe open to his waist, grinning and watching them. That expression was cruel,
a cat playing with a mouse. It said ‘I’m not taking you now, but know that I’ll
have you later.’ Utau, thankfully, didn’t seem him. She was too busy chattering
and laughing and smiling. Ikuto swallowed, his throat tight and dry, and
ushered Utau out of the house before Kazuomi could change his mind. The Jag
purred to life and Ikuto had to concentrate on not flooring it to get out of
the driveway.
Ikuto dropped Utau off at the studio, squeezing her fingers gently before she
left. She met his eyes, a question in those purple depths, but he shook his
head and shooed her out of the car. He watched her walk into the building,
making sure she was safe, before leaving for the Cat’s Eye café.
Then, fate intervened.
As he drove, he spotted Hinamori Amu. She was riding her bike on the side of
the road, shivering in her t-shirt and jeans since the morning was early and
damp. Her pale rosette hair was streaming back, her pale face stained with
tears, and she was desperately pedaling. Ikuto put on his blinker, moved over
to let traffic pass him, turned on his hazard lights, and pulled up alongside
Amu. He rolled down the passenger side window.
“Amu?” he murmured.
She jolted, her bike swerving wildly as she jerked her head up to look at him.
Their eyes met and Amu reeled, practically falling off her bicycle. “I-I-I-
I haven’t!” she gasped. “I haven’t said anything to anyone, honest!” She stood
up on the pedals and put all her might into it, but Ikuto was in a car and had
no trouble keeping up with her. “Please, leave me alone!”
Ikuto kept pace with her. “Listen, Amu, we need to talk,” he said softly.
She shook her head desperately. “Please, I’m not going to say anything. Just…
leave me alone!”
He really was a rotten person, he realized. She was outright terrified of him,
but he had threatened her on the roof, leaving bruises on her arm, and he had
grabbed her again in the hall, refusing to let go so that Utau had to pry his
fingers off her. Ikuto rolled up the window, but continued to keep pace with
Amu on her bike. He dragged out his cell phone, dialed, and pressed it to the
side of his head.
“Hello?” one of the twins answered.
“Nagihiko?” Ikuto asked.
“No, it’s Nadeshiko,” she said. “What’s up, Ikuto?”
“I’m on Main Street on the way to the café and there’s this girl I know…” he
hesitated. How did he put this delicately?
“What girl?” Nadeshiko asked, sensing his confusion.
“Hinamori Amu. I think you know her.”
“I do!” Nadeshiko exclaimed. “Nagi and I gave her a ride home the other day
after she missed the bus. I’ve tried talking to her in school, but she seems to
be avoiding me.”
“Well, she’s here on Main Street on her bike and she looks really upset. I’ve
tried talking to her, but she… doesn’t like me,” Ikuto explained.
“Nagi and I have to be at church in an hour, but I can swing by and pick her
up. Maybe I can take her somewhere,” Nadeshiko offered.
“Thanks,” Ikuto said. “You’re the best. I’ll hang here alongside her until you
get here.”
“Cool,” Nadeshiko said. “Give me three minutes.”
…
Amu, on the other hand, was trying her hardest to escape Ikuto and her heart
was pounding so hard she thought it would burst out of her chest. It was scary
when he had pulled up alongside her in his big black car, but now he had rolled
up the window and was talking on the phone.
What was he doing? Who was he calling? Was he going to have someone come get
her and take her someplace secret? Was he going to torture her until she swore
she would never spill his secret? Was he planning something far worse? What was
going to happen to her?
Amu had nearly worked herself up into a panic, fresh tears rolling down her
cheeks, when Ikuto and his black Jaguar pulled silently and harmlessly away.
A moment later, another car—a silver Jetta—slid into the empty space beside Amu
where Ikuto’s car had been.
The window was already rolled down and a familiar face peered out at Amu. The
young girl with plum-colored dark hair and bright brown eyes, pink flowers done
up in her hair and wearing a violet dress decorated with the same flowers,
smiled at Amu. “Hi,” Nadeshiko offered, leaning over to unlock the passenger
side door. “How about it?”
Amu stared at her. “Did… did Ikuto call you to come here?” she asked.
Nadeshiko rolled her shoulders. “He’s not really a bad guy,” she said. “He’s
just…” she hesitated, searching for the right word and said finally, “an
idiot.”
Amu giggled a little, her cheeks itching as the tears dried. She wasn’t sure
what it was about Nadeshiko’s presence, but Amu was instantly comforted by the
girl’s arrival. It felt like under the calm and gentle demeanor Nadeshiko
portrayed, she was really a strong person, ready for anything. Maybe that was
it.
“So, can I give you a lift?” Nadeshiko offered.
“But my bike,” Amu murmured despite herself.
“Put it in the trunk,” Nadeshiko said and the trunk popped open. “Come on.”
The car stopped completely as Amu did. Nadeshiko waited patiently as Amu heaved
her bicycle into the truck and closed it as best she could. Then, the girl
climbed into the passenger seat beside Nadeshiko and they pulled away from the
curb.
Nadeshiko smiled at Amu, grabbed her purse out of the backseat, and produced a
small collection of wet wipes. “Here, for your face,” she offered.
Amu thanked her softly, pulled down the visor, and began mopping the tearstains
from her face. Much to her horror, the makeup she had put on that morning began
to come off, revealing the reddened marks Tsumugu’s slaps had left behind and
the bruises from her previous beating. Desperately, Amu’s hand flew to her
waist pouch where she kept her makeup, but it wasn’t there. She had left it at
home when she ran out. Fresh tears burned in her throat. She didn’t want
Nadeshiko to know what a bad person she was, that she deserved to be hit and
bruised and battered.
“Amu, is something wrong?” Nadeshiko asked, glancing at her desperate
passenger.
Amu bit her lower lip, looking from her reflection in the small mirror to the
wet wipe in her hand. What could she say?
“Hey, look here,” Nadeshiko murmured as they rolled into the parking lot a
small bookstore-café. She put her fingers under Amu’s chin and turned the
girl’s face.
Amu tried to resist, but she was weak and her tears were choking her. Finally,
she turned to face Nadeshiko, looking at her with blurry tear-filled eyes.
“Please, I…” she began, her voice breaking. “Please, don’t… please, please…”
Nadeshiko stared at her silently for a moment, taking in the bruises and small
cuts. Then, she picked up her purse again and took out a small compact of
makeup. It wasn’t heavy-duty concealer like Amu usually used, but a fine
powdered cover-up for small blemishes. Even so, Nadeshiko tenderly began to
coat Amu’s face until most of the signs of her bruises were gone. Then, she
took out a colorful eye-shadow case filled with countless colors and shades.
She spent a moment staring at it, selected one color, and brushed some fine
gold powder over Amu’s lids. Then, she tucked a strand of pale rosette hair
behind Amu’s ear and smiled at her gently.
“Amu, you’re a very pretty girl,” was all she said in light of seeing the
bruises. “If you ever need anyone or anything, or even just to talk, I’m here.”
Tears welled in Amu’s eyes and she let out a ragged sigh. “T-thanks,” she
whispered.
Nadeshiko wrote her phone number on the a scrap of paper with eyeliner and
handed it to Amu. “Call me, anytime you need to. If I’m not around, Nagi will
be. You can always talk to him, too. We’re almost like the same person,” she
giggled softly, “what with us being twins and all.”
“Thank you,” Amu whispered, clutching the number to her chest. “Thank you.”
Nadeshiko smiled at her. “Now, I have to leave for church, but I’ll be back in
about two hours since it’s Sunday service and Nagi and I are altar servers.
Okay? This is the café Cat’s Eye, I work here and it’s a great little place.
Alright?”
Amu nodded. “Thank you, Nadeshiko. Thank you.”
Nadeshiko shooed her lightly with a smile. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll be back in
a few hours.”
Amu climbed out of the car and then realized, “Wait, my bike!”
Nadeshiko glanced at the clock. “I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry. Please,
just wait here a few hours until I come back alright? We can do lunch or
something.”
Amu looked about to protest.
“Please?” Nadeshiko insisted.
Amu nodded finally and smiled thinly at Nadeshiko as the dark-haired girl drove
away in the little silver Jetta.
Amu stood alone in front of the Cat’s Eye for a long moment, her hands fisted
in her t-shirt, staring up at the lovely little café-bookstore. The wide terra-
cotta overhang stretched out over a collection of mismatched open-air patio
tables and chairs, the edge ringed with little candied tinsel lights. Inside,
Amu could see a glossy piano perched in the middle of the store, settled right
between the interior café and the bookshop. The walls were lined with
trellises, climbing jasmine, and delicately-made faeries and redbrick peeked
through the foliage and wood and faeries. Several people were seated inside, a
few outside, and three people wandered the bookstore section while they drank
coffee. She sucked in a deep breath and entered the café.
“Welcome to the café and bookshop, Cat’s Eye,” a voice rang out, forced
cheerful.
Amu’s blood ran cold and she turned to face her worst nightmare, her heart like
a stone in her throat. She clenched the phone number tightly in her fist,
clutching it to her chest in horror. How could Nadeshiko have left her here?
                                     X X X
Mwuahaha! A cliff-hanger! Well, kind of… you know who’s there, but you don’t
know what will happen.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Love and Hate Sundays: Pt II *****
This was all originally part of the previous chapter, but it got to long so I
split it in two parts. Now, if only I could have split it a little better so
that this chapter didn’t seem mad short in comparison to the last one. Oh well,
though, I can’t be perfect.
                                     X X X
Tsukiyomi Ikuto was standing there, his face suddenly twisting in a half-hidden
mirrored expression of shock and horror. He was wearing a waiter’s uniform of
black jeans and a white shirt, black apron looped around his hips, and his
appearance was comfortably casual despite the work uniform. His silky night-
dark hair was hanging down over his forehead, shadowing his eyes, and framing
his pale cheeks like a shining dark curtain. His sapphire eyes were fringed
with lashes so long they cast shadows on his porcelain face and there was a
faint bruise at the corner of his mouth.
Hinamori Amu just stood there in front of him—her left hand clenched in her t-
shirt tightly, Nadeshiko’s number clutched to her chest with her right. Her
heart was beating so loudly that she was certain everyone could hear it or else
it would batter its way right out of the cage of her ribs. Her pale rose-
colored hair was stringy and wildly-windblown, her face beautifully brushed
with Nadeshiko’s makeup though the bruises still hinted beneath, and her amber-
hued eyes were wide with an identical expression of horror and shock as she
stared at Ikuto. Then, she turned to flee.
“Wait!” Ikuto shouted and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the door.
“No!” Amu shrieked. “No, please! Don’t! Please, I haven’t said anything!
Please, don’t, no!”
“Wait,” he said again, tugging her backwards to his chest.
“Let me go! Leave me alone!” she begged, thrashing and flailing. “Please!”
He pinned her arms, holding her flush against his chest. “Wait, wait,” he
insisted. “Hold on.”
She let out a shriek of nameless desperation and fear, struggling against his
grip. “Please!”
By now, all Amu’s shouting had drawn the attention of the customers. Everyone
was looking at them and Ikuto realized how bad this looked. He probably looked
like her abusive dick boyfriend or else she was a crazy person fighting against
some imaginary monster. He would have placed his money on the former rather
than the latter. He offered everyone a wry smile, hitched Amu’s kicking legs up
over his arm so that he was carrying her completely, and bodily moved her out
of everyone’s field of view. He brought her to the employee break room and sat
her down in a chair, gripping her shoulders.
“Wait!” he shouted sharply.
Her eyes were filled with tears, but she quieted and stared at him.
“Did Nadeshiko drop you off here?” he asked.
She nodded, the tears not quite falling. “She said that… it’s a great place.
She didn’t say… you worked here…”
Ikuto sighed heavily. “Listen, we have to talk.”
She shook her head wildly. “I’m not going to say anything, honest,” she
practically shouted. “You don’t have to worry so please, let me go!”
“It’s not about that,” he murmured.
She tried to wrench away, but he was still gripping her narrow shoulders.
“Please, just listen to me,” he said softly. “Okay?”
She stared at him, her golden eyes wide and glistening with tears. Slowly, she
nodded and stilled beneath his hands, barely breathing.
“I was… wrong to threaten you,” Ikuto whispered. “And I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widened, a single tear rolling down her face. “R-really?” she asked.
Ikuto nodded. “Yeah.”
Amu relaxed under his long-fingered hands, her skinny shoulders melting as she
slumped in the chair in relief. “Thank god,” she whispered. “I was so scared.”
Then, she buried her face in her hands, hiding behind her pale red hair as her
body shook with heartbreaking sighs.
Ikuto’s heart clenched a little, skipping a beat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered,
gently tucking some hair behind her ear.
She shied away from his touch.
“I’m going to get you a cup of coffee, just… stay here, okay?”
She didn’t nod, but she didn’t jump up and try to leave either. Ikuto figured
that that was enough. He straightened up, brushed off the knees of his black
jeans, and left Amu in the break room. He got her a cup of coffee from the
café, filling it with caramel, sugar, and cream since she didn’t look like the
kind of person who liked coffee at all, nonetheless black. He returned to the
break room and was relieved to see that she was still there. He set the mug
down for her along with a napkin and a spoon.
“Here,” he offered.
“Thanks,” she whispered softly.
Ikuto ducked back into the bookshop-café, winding through the shelves. He
pulled out his phone and called Nadeshiko, prepared to give her a piece of his
mind over dropping Amu off in his lap when he had specifically told her that
Amu didn’t like him. But Nadeshiko was at church and he got her voicemail.
Groaning, Ikuto ground out, “Nadeshiko, you are so dead, no matter what good
friends we are or what Nagihiko says. I can’t believe you brought her here! You
call me as soon as church is over and then come here and get her. Got it? Good.
Call me ASAP.” He hung up, stuffed the phone back into his pocket, and returned
to work.
…
Amu pulled herself together once she was sure Ikuto wasn’t coming back.
Carefully, she dried her eyes and then looked at the steaming mug of coffee.
She hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast and she was hungry and tired, cold from
being on her bike without a sweater. The coffee was tempting, but… she wasn’t
sure she trusted Ikuto. What if he had put something in it? A drug or
something? She stared at it and then wrapped her hands around the steaming mug,
telling herself that she was just going to warm her fingers.
She sighed in relief as the warmth seeped into her cold body. She cradled the
mug, staring into it. Well, maybe just a sip wouldn’t hurt. Even if he had put
something in it, just a sip wouldn’t hurt her, would it? She lifted the mug to
her lips and inhaled the scent of the coffee. Somehow, it didn’t smell like
coffee. In fact, it smelled… sweet. Yeah, just a small sip wouldn’t hurt. Amu
tipped it, letting the warm liquid fill her mouth and roll down her throat as
she swallowed.
It was pure heaven. The coffee was sweet and creamy, tasting vaguely of
caramel. It was almost like a warm milkshake and before she knew it, she had
taken another sip and another and another. Then, she found herself staring into
the half-empty mug. Her heart lurched. She had meant to take only a small sip.
What if Ikuto had poisoned it? She could be dying right now! Amu slammed the
mug down and stared at it, waiting for the sickness or darkness to claim her.
But several minutes passed and she was still alive. In fact, she felt much
better—warmer, relaxed, and her stomach was full of sweet cream and coffee. She
picked the mug up again and took another sip. If this was poison, then it was
delicious. Despite her worry and fears, she finished the coffee and even used
her finger to scrape the caramel off the bottom of the mug, licking it off in a
state of bliss. She set aside the mug with a contented sigh.
Suddenly, as if he had been watching from some secret place, Ikuto appeared in
the threshold of the break room. Without a word, he grabbed the used mug off
the table, letting it dangle off his long fingers by the handle, and set down a
book in its place. Then he turned to leave, but abruptly stopped in the
doorway.
For a moment, he was quiet, but then he spoke. “I don’t know if you like to
read, but it’ll be a while before Nadeshiko gets here to pick you up,” he
hesitated. “But Nadeshiko read that and liked it so maybe you will too.”
Amu stared at him, shocked by his tenderness. “T-thank you,” she murmured.
Ikuto glanced at her. “I’m not a completely bad guy,” he said by way of
explanation. “I’m just… strange… like you said.”
Her heart skipped a beat, stuttering in her chest. “Strange?” she repeated.
“You mean, the…?” She didn’t say it because his face twisted with pain, growing
pale, and he ducked out of sight before she could say anything else, even
before she could apologize.
Ikuto silently pleaded with Nadeshiko and Nagihiko to get here faster. He
wasn’t prepared to deal with this, not now, not when he knew Kazuomi was going
to take him the moment he got home, not when he was already aching inside. He
knew he should make friends with Amu for the sake of his secret, but what she
thought was his real secret wasn’t true and that just made it harder. He didn’t
want her to think he was gay, but he didn’t want her to know the truth either.
The image of her—pale face twisted in terror, that moment at the edge of the
roof when she had been unable to decide whether he or a fall to her death was
worse, her pretty face caked with makeup, crystal tears rolling down her
cheeks, her small body cowering at his feet, her thin arm trembling in his
hand, her small voice screaming and begging, her wild flailing as she tried to
escape him like he was a monster—flashed through his mind like a physical
wound. He was nearly driven to his knees.
Honestly, Ikuto wished he had never threatened her that day on the roof, for
more reasons than one.
                                     X X X
But I am amazed how many people guessed it was Saaya. Did everyone forget that
Ikuto is the one who works at the café Cat’s Eye? Ah, maybe I just think
different from all of you or you all think differently from me.
Questions, comments, concerns?
You know you want to… Review!
***** Nagihiko: They Saw Him *****
Nothing to report.
                                     X X X
Nadeshiko and Nagihiko arrived at the bookshop-café about an hour before noon,
each smelling of church incense. When he saw them, Ikuto immediately grabbed
each of them by their wrists, grateful for his age and strength lending him the
ability to bodily drag around those younger than him. He ushered them into a
row of bookshelves and glared into the face he hoped was Nadeshiko’s and not
Nagihiko’s since they had been known to cover for each other by posing as the
other.
“Nadeshiko,” he growled.
“I know,” she said shortly, folding her arms.
He sighed silently, grateful that he had chosen to yell at the correct twin.
“But I was running late because I came to help you out,” Nadeshiko said to
Ikuto flatly, not taking any of his crap. “And what would you have had me do
with her? Did you expect me to bring her to church for two hours? I figured the
best place for her was here, with you, since you obviously care enough about
her to call me when you see her on the side of the road.”
Ikuto didn’t have anything to say to that.
“See, Ikuto, it was an informed decision,” Nagihiko said with a roll of his
shoulders. “Don’t bark at my sister.”
He sighed heavily. “Whatever,” he said. “Just… get her out of here.”
“Why?” Nadeshiko asked, eyeing him.
“Because,” he growled, but didn’t have a reason he wanted to admit to his
friends.
“Well?” Nadeshiko repeated, still not taking crap.
“She doesn’t like me and being here is making her uncomfortable,” he said
finally.
“Why?” Nadeshiko asked suspiciously.
Nagihiko asked. “What did you do to her?”
Ikuto narrowed his eyes. “None of your business, both of you. Just take her
someplace else!”
“I did tell her we’d do lunch,” Nadeshiko said, pressing her finger to her
lower lip. “You get off soon, don’t you, Ikuto? Maybe we should all go
together.”
“Did you not hear a word I just said?” he demanded, exasperated.
Nagihiko elbowed him. “Don’t bark at my sister.”
Ikuto groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, absently rubbing his side
since Nagihiko’s elbow had sent a throb of pain through his violated behind.
God, he loved these two to death, but sometimes… he just wanted to strangle
them both or else knock their two fool heads together. “Listen to me, closely,”
he said sharply. “Just… get out of here so I can work in peace.”
“What about Amu?” Nagihiko asked.
“Yeah. Is she bothering you, too?” Nadeshiko asked.
“Take her too!” Ikuto shouted at the twins, throwing up his arms. “Get out of
here! Both of you! All three of you! Out, out, out!” And he grabbed them both
by the arm again, gave them a shove in the direction of the break room, and
darted back behind the coffee bar in the café section.
The twins both snorted with laughter at his plight.
Ikuto suddenly had a feeling that he and Amu were the only ones taking this
seriously at all. But, he had been wrong an awful lot today and wasn’t hoping
to add to the statistic. He turned his attention back to his work, tempted to
flip Nadeshiko off as she gave him a little finger wave when she left with
Nagihiko and Amu. Then, half his problems were gone and he was alone with his
work. He let out a sigh of relief, his tense shoulders slumping.
…
Nadeshiko would have preferred to stay at the café Cat’s Eye and have lunch
there, but she had a feeling if she prodded Ikuto anymore, he would snap and
pour cream in her lap. Since she didn’t want to have to dry-clean her dress,
she decided to just get Nagihiko and Amu out as Ikuto had so politely
requested.
Since Nagihiko was driving, the car found its way magically to a Taco Bell.
They pulled through the drive-through and the twins split lunch, purchasing the
twelve-pack of soft tacos that they always shared. Then, Nagihiko drove to the
park and everyone piled out. Though the morning had been cool and damp, it had
warmed up nicely. The afternoon was warm and buttery, bright with golden
sunlight and a nice breeze. The swings at the playground swung idly in the
breeze, creaking softly, and the distant laughter of children was carried to
the trio.
Nadeshiko spread out the blanket she produced from the trunk and sat down in
the thick grass with a content sigh. Nagihiko handed her a taco and a bottle of
water with a grin and flopped down on his stomach, digging in eagerly. Amu
hesitated, but sat down once Nadeshiko patted the space beside her. She looked
nervous and tense.
“So, Amu,” Nadeshiko said as she bit into a taco. “Ikuto didn’t bug you too
much, did he?”
Amu shook her head, accepting a taco and slowly unwrapping it.
“That’s good,” Nadeshiko said.
“Actually, he was… really sweet,” Amu confessed.
Nagihiko barked a laugh. “Ikuto? Sweet? He doesn’t happen to have a twin, too,
does he?”
Nadeshiko flicked a piece of lettuce at him. “Stop it,” she said. “So, Amu,
sweet how?”
The girl flushed. “He… he brought me a cup of coffee and it was… really good.”
“Ah,” Nadeshiko said. “Ikuto’s famous coffee. I swear, that guy hates the
taste. He puts in so much sugar, cream, and caramel that you can’t even taste
the coffee anymore. It’s like a hot milkshake.”
Amu smiled, nodding. “Yeah, that’s exactly right,” she said. “Then, he brought
me a book to read.”
Nadeshiko’s eyes brightened. “Really? What?”
Amu’s brow wrinkled. “The Breaking of Poisonwood.” (1)
“I love that!” Nadeshiko squealed. “I read it when it first came out. It was so
strange, but in a good way.”
Amu nodded, smiling.
“It’s nice to know that Ikuto listens to me when I talk,” Nadeshiko remarked.
Nagihiko snorted with laughter and Nadeshiko slid him a glare, tossing her
balled up taco paper at her brother’s head. It bounced off and rolled into the
grass. Since the twins weren’t big litter-bugs, Nagihiko scooted off on his
elbows through the grass to grab it.
“Nagi, if you don’t quit that, you’re going to get grass-stains all over your
suit,” Nadeshiko said warningly.
He straightened up and brushed himself off. “I know, I know. Jeez, Nade, you’re
such a nag!” he said and reached for another taco.
Nadeshiko intercepted the bag and pulled it out of his reach, sticking her
tongue out.
Amu smiled softly, watching the two siblings squabble with each other. Was this
the kind of life, the kind of happy relationship, she would have had if Ami had
lived? She lowered her golden eyes, staring at the taco in her hands. Why did
Ami have to die? But at least she didn’t have to fear Ikuto anymore. Her
original impression of him was proving correct—he was strange, feral, and
somehow damaged though she wasn’t sure what the damage to him was. It couldn’t
just be that he was gay, could it?
…
Amu spent the rest of the afternoon with Nadeshiko and Nagihiko, enjoying their
company. The twins proved to be wonderful companions. Nadeshiko was sweet and
feminine, her lips curved into a soft smile, wearing a beautiful dress and
flowers in her hair, and as vibrantly outgoing as most boys. Nagihiko was
similar, but also so different. He was strong and masculine, constantly running
and darting around to some unspoken rhythm of unheard music, and a little more
reserved than Nadeshiko was. He was cautious, but also sensitive, allowing
Nadeshiko and Amu to play with his waist-length dark hair.
Then, as the afternoon drew to a close and night began to fall, the twins drive
Amu home to her once-white house. Nagihiko helped her get her bicycle out of
the trunk and waved to her as she put it away. She handed him the jacket he had
let her borrow with a smile. Then, they sat in the driveway, watching her to
make sure she got into the house safely. Once she was inside, Amu watched the
silver Jetta pull away silently into the night and a heaviness crushed down on
her heart.
Why did she suddenly miss them so much?
Was it because she had never had a real friend before?
Amu turned around, tip-toeing through her house. The television was on
somewhere in the house, the sound of canned laughter reaching Amu’s ears. She
made her way to the living room and peeked in. Her parents were sitting on the
couch together, Tsumugu’s arm draped around Midori’s shoulders.
“Hi Mom, Dad,” Amu said softly.
They turned to look at her slowly, like something out of a horror movie. Midori
was smiling faintly, tears in her eyes, but Tsumugu’s face was a mask of rage.
Amu’s heart skipped a beat and her mouth ran dry. She immediately realized that
something was very wrong and whatever they did to her, she still had to go to
school the next day. It was Sunday, after all.
“M-mom? D-dad?” she whispered.
As if they didn’t hear or see each other, as if they were on separate
frequencies, even though they were touching, her parents began to speak. Amu
staggered backwards a step, her heart throbbing in her chest and her palms
broke out in a cold sweat. What were they going to do to her? What had set them
off?
“You’re at that age, Amu,” Midori murmured, a tear running down her cheek.
“It’s time you had a boyfriend. Ami would have…” Her voice cracked.
“How could you, Amu? Boys, really?” Tsumugu snarled at his surviving daughter.
All father’s were protective, but this was over the line.
Amu’s heart skipped a beat. Did they know about Ikuto and school and that she
knew his secret? Or had they happened to look out the window and see Nagihiko
helping her get her bike out of the trunk of the Jetta? From the outside
looking in, she supposed it would seem like she had spent the whole day with a
boy.
“Wait,” she began, hoping to explain to them that she had been with Nadeshiko
as well. “Please, let me explain.”
“A boyfriend,” Midori whispered. “To be young again… and in love… It’s about
that time. Amu’s about that age now. In a few years, Ami would be…”
Tsumugu tug his fingers into the couch. “You can’t be with boys. Boys only want
one thing and I bet you’d give it up, too, Amu. Not like Ami would have! Ami
would wait until marriage.”
Amu stumbled back as Tsumugu rose from the couch. Midori remained seated,
whispering softly, tears rolling down her cheeks. She stared at them without
seeming to realize what she was seeing or what was happening in front of her.
Amu’s father advanced on her and Amu kept backing up until her back was against
the wall. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and cowering against
the wall. His hand pressed against the wall beside her head, his thumb brushing
her hair back from her face gently.
“Amu,” Tsumugu whispered. “You’re a beautiful young lady.”
“T-thanks, Daddy,” she whispered, teeth chattering in fear.
He gripped her hair, pulling harshly and jerking her head to the side.
Amu whimpered, a tear making its way down her pale cheek and washing off
Nadeshiko’s makeup.
“But I don’t want you going off with boys,” he said bitterly. “They’re clever
and you’re not smart enough to avoid their tricks.”
“I’m sorry,” she gasped out.
Tsumugu took a step back. “Good,” he hissed. “Good.”
Amu whimpered in relief. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.
Tsumugu turned back to look at his daughter and then he saw the golden glittery
eye-shadow Nadeshiko had brushed on her lids. “What is that?” he snarled. “Are
you wearing eye-shadow? Gold eye-shadow?” Unspoken—like Ami would wear!
His slap was sudden and harsh, cracking brutally across Amu’s face. Her head
crashed against the wall and black spots danced in front of her vision. With a
cry, she slid to her knees, desperately wrapping her arms around her legs to
protect her vulnerabilities. Tsumugu’s hard shoe rammed into Amu’s stomach and
thighs. She whimpered, sobbing in anguish as her old bruises darkened again. He
tramped down on her hand, practically breaking her fingers.
Midori whispered from the couch, “She’s of that age, honey.”
But Tsumugu ignored his wife and continued his assault on his daughter, kicking
her violently. Then, he grabbed a fistful of her pale rose-colored hair and
dragged her to her knees, slapping her brutally across the face until fresh hot
tears welled in her eyes. Amu cried out, screaming for him to stop. Tsumugu
ignored her.
In fact, he grabbed his wine glass from the table and dumped it over her head,
the alcohol burning her split lip. Then, he hurled the glass at the wall where
it shattered into a million pieces. He heaved Amu against the wall, her head
cracking painfully and then she collapsed among the shards of glass. Her hands
and knees cut open, bleeding freely. She cried out in agony again and prayed
that he would stop once he saw the blood. They usually stopped once they made
her bleed, sobered by the sight of blood.
But Tsumugu didn’t. He put his foot on her head, pressing her face down into
the glass so that it dug into her cheeks and lips and ear, tearing open. He
snarled out. “Ami wouldn’t be dating boys yet, throwing herself at them, giving
herself to them, you little slut.”
“Please,” Amu whispered, tasting blood. “Please stop…”
“She’s at that age,” Midori whispered again as if in a trance.
Tsumugu ignored them both. Then with one final hard kick to Amu’s stomach, he
turned away from her brutalized little body and flopped down on the couch
beside his wife. He took the bottle of wine and drank directly from it. Amu
sobbed, in such pain, the smell of her own blood choking her. Finally, she
scraped herself to her feet and went upstairs to shower and dress for bed. It
took her a long time to pick the glass from her cuts and she cried all the
while.
The beating had escalated.
“Ami?” she whispered, unsure of what she was asking though.
She stared at her bloody face in the mirror, salty tears burning her cuts.
She was becoming worse and worse, losing sight of the child she was supposed to
be. She was bad and she knew she deserved this, but… why? What had she done
wrong? Was it just because they had seen her with Nagihiko and not Nadeshiko?
Or did they know something about her own mind that even she didn’t know? Had
she been planning on doing something unforgivable with that boy?
Yeah, that must have been it. Her parents knew her, knew what she deserved, and
they had given it to her. She deserved this pain, this blood, this torment
because she was a bad person. Ami was the angel, but Amu was not.
                                     X X X
(1) The Breaking of Poisonwood is my book, again. Though I feel kind of shallow
putting my book into my awareness story, but I wanted something for them to
talk about and I didn’t want to pick something like Twilight, which I hate but
a lot of people like, or Echo, which is kind of strange and controversial. My
book is kind of neutral ground because if you’re reading my story, you must
like my writing. Right?
And it’s really sad but most people who are abused do think that they did
something to deserve being hurt. They rationalize it in a bunch of sick twisted
ways, kind of like Amu is doing. Child abuse is extremely twisted. Go on
YouTube and look at all the stories posted as videos there. It’s horrible…
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Tsukiyomi Aruto's Violin *****
I totally and completely love this chapter. I find Ikuto a lot more fun to
write than Amu.
                                     X X X
When Ikuto got off work around four-thirty, he was dead tired. His body was
purely exhausted and he hadn’t eaten, though he had had a cup of coffee. But he
was in a hurry to collect Utau and go home so he got into the Jaguar and headed
off for Easter Corporation’s headquarters without eating or resting. He pulled
into the underground parking lot, slid in beside his step-father’s expensive
Mercedes, and got out. Pain speared through his body and he bit his lip to
stifle the yelp of pain. There were cameras in the garage and he didn’t want
anyone to see him whimpering in pain like a little girl.
Quickly, he boarded the elevator and punched the button for the fourteenth
floor where Utau’s recording studio was. He rode the elevator alone and in
silence, trying to compose his face into a mask of painless and smooth
indifference. But the truth of the matter was—he was exhausted, he was hungry,
he was in pain, and he was afraid of what Kazuomi would do to him later that
night. The elevator dinged and the metal doors slid open. He walked down the
hallway, rapped on the door of the recording studio, and entered.
Behind the soundproof glass window and walls, he could see Utau. Her pale
blonde hair was hanging loose around her face, her thin body was clad in a blue
dress decorated with a metal butterfly belt, and she wore flip-flops on her
feet. Her violet eyes were closed in happiness, her head tipped back slightly,
and her hands over her headphones as she sang in a state of bliss.
Ikuto stepped up behind one of the chairs at the recording station and smiled
faintly as he watched her. She was so beautiful and happy and young. This was
why he went through hell day in and day out—all for her. This was why he let
Kazuomi tear apart his body and pride and heart. This was why he worked instead
of sleeping. It was all to protect Utau, his beautiful precious little sister.
And he would continue to do it until the end of time, until this hell was over.
Someone tapped Ikuto on the shoulder.
He turned to face Utau’s manager, Sanjo Yukari. She was a young woman in her
twenties, her hair reddish-brown and tucked behind her ears without a true
style. Her thin half-moon glasses slid down her nose and she pushed them up,
the lenses flashing in the light. “I need to talk to you,” she said.
Ikuto resisted the urge to say, ‘Obviously.’
Yukari was known for being a woman with very little creativity and imagination.
What she was doing in something as artistic, inventive, and original as the
music business, Ikuto would never understand. Maybe she just had good business
sense and that was why she was working at Easter Corporation. God knew Kazuomi
would never risk losing money on his two worthless step-children. He worked
them both to the bone, or as much as Ikuto allowed in Utau’s case.
“Sure,” Ikuto said to her. Then, with one final lingering glance at his
beautiful precious little sister, he ducked out of the studio with Yukari. In
the hall, once the door closed behind him, he turned to her and asked, “What’s
up, Miss Sanjo?”
“Utau mentioned that you play the violin,” Yukari said, pushing her glasses up
again.
A stab of longing and pain went through Ikuto’s heart. His violin… his real
father’s violin… Tsukiyomi Aruto’s violin… (1) That violin had been Aruto’s way
of life and he left in his will that the violin be given to Ikuto upon his
death. And for years it had been Ikuto’s most treasured possession. It filled
the gaping hole where his father used to be and helped him cope with his step-
father’s harsh rule. But, once Souko died, Kazuomi took the violin away from
Ikuto and he hadn’t seen it since then. Ikuto missed playing the violin—holding
it in his hands like it was alive—almost as much as he missed his half-
remembered father and angelic mother. The thought of its loss was like a ragged
wound in his heart, bleeding fresh and raw when Yukari mentioned it.
“W-what about it?” Ikuto asked her, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
Yukari brushed her hair back, seeming to steel herself for an argument. “Well,
Utau told me that you help her write the music for her songs and it would be
fantastic if you could play the violin at her upcoming concert,” she said.
Ikuto opened his mouth and there must have been protest in his face because
Yukari cut him off.
“It would be great for her,” Yukari said sharply. “You’re so handsome and the
violin is such a special soulful instrument.”
Ikuto tried to speak, but she cut in again.
“Please? For your sister?”
“Listen,” he interrupted. “I don’t have a violin anymore.”
Yukari beamed as if expecting that. “I understand and I could get you one.”
Ikuto’s heart throbbed, bleeding anew as the wound tore with wanting. His
father’s violin was so special to him and he had told himself that he would
always treasure and play it. To play another violin felt like a betrayal of
that, of his father’s memory, but he wanted it so badly. To play the violin
again, it would be a dream come true—a stitch in the aching wound that had
become his life.
“Any kind you want,” Yukari continued. “I could even speak to Mr. Hoshina about
getting your father’s violin out of the safety deposit box.”
His heart skipped a painful beat. He had never even known where Kazuomi had
taken the violin. To think it was here in the building, stashed away in a
safety deposit box—so achingly close but still so far out of his reach—it was
almost like a physical blow. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. It was
bottled up in his chest. His father’s violin…!
Yukari smiled, her eyes flashing behind her glasses. “Well, Ikuto, what do you
think?” she asked.
He met her eyes and saw the gloating in her expression. She knew she had won.
She had offered him the one thing he wanted badly enough to even beg for.
“Ikuto?” she asked, her proud gaze wavering.
He tried to salvage his pride. “If you can get my father’s violin for me,” he
said coldly, “I’ll play for you.” He wished he could take back those words and
change them to, ‘For Utau,’ but he had already spoken.
Yukari smiled broadly. “I’ll talk to Mr. Hoshina right now,” she said and
bustled off down the hallway, vanishing around the corner.
Ikuto’s heart beat painfully, knocking hard against his ribs as if trying to
batter itself to death. His father’s violin… A hot bubble of eagerness and
happiness welled up in his chest. Imagine if he could hold it again, tuck it
under his chin, draw the bow lovingly across the strings, close his tired eyes,
and hear the sound of his own soul coming out. That precious violin… How
desperately he wanted to play it again. A small hopeful smile curved Ikuto’s
lips.
…
For half an hour, Ikuto sat inside the studio, listening to and watching Utau
sing. When she had noticed him sitting there, she took a quick break and
apologized for how long her rehearsal was taking, but Ikuto didn’t care. She
looked so happy, so proud, positively glowing like an angel. He would have sat
there, watching and listening to her until the end of time.
Besides, it was nice to hear the music he helped her write even if he could
play it on an instrument of his own. Utau had the voice of an angel also,
soulful and deep. Ikuto soon found his exhaustion seeping into his limbs until
he was reclined in the chair, beginning to nod off. He was so tired. Maybe if
he closed his eyes for just a minute, for just a little while… Utau’s voice was
like a lullaby.
The next thing he knew, half an hour had passed.
Yukari had returned and was gently shaking him.
Ikuto felt like a child, hopeful and innocent and desperate, the moment he laid
eyes on Utau’s manager. He found his eyes searching her hands for that worn
white case Aruto had always kept his precious violin in, but her hands were
empty. His heart sank and shattered. It was too easy—he should have never
believed that Kazuomi would allow him to have his father’s violin.
“Hey,” Yukari said, seeing his doubt and disappointment. “Go up to Mr.
Hoshina’s office. He wants to talk to you about the violin.” Then, she smiled
at him and winked.
Ikuto’s heart soared, hope biting at the back of his throat. “Really?” he
whispered.
She nodded, patted his shoulder, and went to the window to look in at Utau.
After a moment, she called out a few pointers which Utau coldly rejected since
Yukari’s suggestions were rather bland. Blushing, the woman sat down and fell
quiet, just listening.
Ikuto got to his feet, his body feather-light with joy. He practically floated
to the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor where Hoshina
Kazuomi’s office was. When the doors slid open, Ikuto made his way to the
office quickly, hopeful and happy, his lips still curved into a smile. Then, he
pushed the door open and there was Kazuomi, seated behind the desk with his
fingers pressed against his lips and his elbows on the desktop. An bad feeling
suddenly welled up. Ikuto should have known it would never be that easy. His
heart broke, dropping into his stomach where the acids devoured it quickly.
“Yukari wants you to play in Utau’s concert,” Kazuomi said. “She’s even asked
me to allow you to play on your father’s violin. What do you think, Ikuto?”
He remained silent, his eyes on the floor.
“I think it’s a bad idea, too,” Kazuomi said. “I’ll tell her you can’t do it.”
Ikuto’s head snapped up. “No!” he gasped.
Kazuomi grinned broader. “Oh?”
He lowered his sapphire eyes to the carpet again, his heart pounding.
“If you don’t talk to me, Ikuto, I won’t know what you want,” Kazuomi said
teasingly.
“I would like to,” Ikuto whispered.
“What?” he asked.
“I would like to play the violin for Yukari,” Ikuto whispered again, though
louder.
“What?” he repeated.
“I want to play the violin for Yukari,” Ikuto said, his voice normal.
Though he was certain Kazuomi had heard him, the man still asked, “What?”
“I would like to play the violin for Yukari,” Ikuto said loudly and firmly.
Kazuomi grinned. “You want your father’s violin, don’t you?”
Ikuto nodded, trying not to show his desperation.
“How about you beg me for it?”
Ikuto’s head snapped up. “What?” he breathed.
Kazuomi reclined in his chair, grinning. “Beg me for it, Ikuto.”
The boy stared at his step-father, stricken. “Please,” he said suddenly because
he wanted it that badly. “Please, let me play my father’s violin for Yukari.
Please, Kazuomi.”
Kazuomi wrinkled his forehead. That was too easy. Ikuto must have wanted his
father’s violin very badly—badly enough to plead for it. He leaned back
farther, thinking of something else he could do to torment his step-son. His
phone rang and he answered angrily, “What?”
The secretary asked gingerly, nervously, “Nikaidou Yuu is here. Are you ready
for him?”
Kazuomi grinned, thinking, ‘Perfect.’ To the secretary, he said, “Give me five
minutes to finish up what I’m doing and then send him in.” Then, he hung up and
turned his attention back to Ikuto.
“Do I need to leave?” the teen asked, his blue eyes darting as if he sensed
something back was going to happen to him. If he only knew how right he was.
“Take your clothes off, Ikuto,” Kazuomi said.
Ikuto shivered, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around his body.
“Take them off,” Kazuomi repeated. “And give them to me.”
His hands trembling, Ikuto stripped off his shirt and jeans. In his boxers,
clutching his clothes to his chest and his pale skin covered with goose bumps,
he stood there in front of the desk. Kazuomi held out his hands and Ikuto
handed over his clothes. Then, Kazuomi flicked his eyes to the boxers. Shaking
harder, Ikuto pulled them down. Completely naked, he stood there, doing his
best to cover himself with his hands as he waited for what was to come next.
Kazuomi leaned back in his chair, Ikuto’s clothes on the desk beside his elbow,
and admired the boy’s nudity until Ikuto felt like an animal, sick to his
stomach. “Just stand there, Ikuto. You’re such a pretty little statue.”
Ikuto swallowed, his throat dry.
Then, there was a knock on the door and Nikaidou Yuu called out, “Can I come
in?”
Desperately, Ikuto looked from the door to his step-father. Did Kazuomi really
intend to have him standing there, naked, when Yuu came into the office?
Kazuomi grinned. “Oh no, Ikuto. You don’t want to be standing there when Yuu
comes in, do you?”
Ikuto shook his head, shivering with cold and shock.
Kazuomi rolled his desk chair back. “Here, hide under my desk since you don’t
have time to get dressed again.”
Yuu knocked on the door again. “Mr. Hoshina? Are you in there?”
Ikuto looked desperately from the door to the desk to his step-father’s
grinning face. He planned this, he realized with a jolt. He planned all this to
happen and god only knew what he had planned for Ikuto once he had him on his
knees under the desk.
“I’m here,” Kazuomi called out, still watching Ikuto. “Come on in.”
The doorknob turned.
Ikuto dove around the desk and slammed himself underneath, cowering there
pathetically, but he didn’t want anyone to know what Kazuomi did to him.
Kazuomi rolled his chair forward a little, crushing his knees into Ikuto’s body
until the boy couldn’t escape the touch.
“Ah, Yuu, what can I do for you?” Kazuomi said, the perfect business man.
Yuu sat down, spotted the clothing of a teenage boy lying on the desk, and
stared at it a moment.
Kazuomi noticed as well and brushed it to the floor. “Well, Yuu?”
“Right, of course,” Yuu said, shaking himself.
Then, the two delved into a boring business conversation. Crouched beneath the
desk, squashed between Kazuomi’s legs, Ikuto prayed for the conversation to
end. He was cold, he was naked, and he had no idea what Kazuomi was going to do
to him after Yuu left. He just wanted this to be over and he wanted his
father’s violin. Then, finally, Kazuomi stood up to shake Yuu’s hand and the
other man left the office. Ikuto waited until he heard the door close before
moving to pry himself from under the desk.
Kazuomi sat down in his desk chair again, capturing Ikuto between his legs. He
grinned down at his step-son. “Well, well, Ikuto, it looks like I have you
right where I want you,” he said.
“What do you want?” Ikuto whispered, his heart racing.
Kazuomi tapped his fingers on the desktop, thinking a moment. What did he want?
What was the violin worth to Ikuto? How far could he push the boy? Then, he
thought of it and leered down at Ikuto. “I want you to suck me,” he said
cruelly. “If you can make me cum in three minutes, I’ll give you the violin.”
Ikuto looked stricken.
Kazuomi saw that such a thing wasn’t worth the violin for a night at Utau’s
concert. Immediately, he sweetened the pot. “I’ll give you the key for the
safety deposit box. You can have the violin whenever you want,” he added. “You
can have it back, Ikuto.”
The boy bit his lower lip, weighing his options, his naked body shivering. It
was clear he wanted the violin badly and to have it forever, simply to suck
Kazuomi off… It was tempting. In fact, it was too tempting. Ikuto actually
found himself seriously thinking about doing it. Then, he was a little
disgusted with himself, but he wanted it to much. What did he need his pride
for anyway? Kazuomi was slowly destroying him. “In three minutes?” he repeated.
Kazuomi grinned, realizing that he had Ikuto like a mouse in a trap. “If you
can do it in three minutes, Ikuto, I’ll let you have your father’s violin.”
Ikuto hesitated again.
Kazuomi looked at his watch.
“Wait!” Ikuto protested. Then, he offered his hand which Kazuomi noticed was
trembling faintly. “Shake on it,” he said.
Kazuomi grasped his hand, squeezing his thin fingers painfully. “It’s a deal.”
Ikuto nodded and Kazuomi looked at his watch again. Immediately, Ikuto lurched
into action. His thin shaking fingers swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped his step-
father’s trousers and reached in. A shudder ran through him—Kazuomi was
commando beneath his pants. (Kazuomi flinched when Ikuto grasped him. God, the
boy’s hands were freezing cold.) Shockingly, the cock was already hard and
throbbing under Ikuto’s hands. He pumped it for a minute, trying to work up the
courage to do what he had to to gain the violin. It was an ugly thing in front
of him, strong-smelling and weeping clear fluid. Ikuto wondered if his own
genitals were so ugly, but crushed those thoughts.
“Two minutes,” Kazuomi said.
Ikuto jolted, looking up pleadingly into his step-father’s face, but Kazuomi
only smirked at him. The bastard, Ikuto thought, he’s enjoying seeing me
squirm. And that realization marked the end of Ikuto’s hesitation. He opened
his mouth and took his step-father inside his wet cavern, trying very hard not
to taste the bitter saltiness. He worked hard—using his tongue and teeth on the
sensitive head, stroking the underside with his fingers, taking him deep into
the back of his throat and swallowing to ripple his muscles.
“O-one minute,” Kazuomi gasped and Ikuto was happy to hear that his voice was
wavering.
He applied a little more. He teased Kazuomi’s heavy balls, pinching and
swirling with his long fingers. He took him deeper into his throat, tongue
lavishing attention on the underside where he pried a ragged groan of pleasure
from the larger man. Then, as the icing on this cake, Ikuto thrummed deep in
his chest, almost a purr and the vibrations went right into Kazuomi’s dick.
Almost immediately, he came in a great burst. His seed was thick and salty,
pouring down the back of Ikuto’s throat. He gagged, coughing and spitting into
his hand.
But he knew he had won.
Kazuomi was panting, his face flushed.
“How much time is left?” Ikuto asked.
Kazuomi looked at his watch, his arms feeling jellied. “T-ten seconds,” he
gasped.
“We made a deal,” Ikuto said.
“I remember.” From the side drawer of his desk, Kazuomi produced a thin silver
key with a plastic number on it. “The key to the safety deposit box. Go ahead
and get the violin.”
Ikuto crawled out from beneath the desk, hiding his nudity with his hands. “My
clothes?” he asked, but reached for them without waiting.
Kazuomi grabbed his wrist and yanked the boy to face him. “Wait,” he said
suddenly. “Show me yourself.”
Ikuto tried to pull away. “Why?” he whispered.
He grinned. “I want to see if you got hard sucking another man’s dick.”
Ikuto’s cheeks went hot and pink, but it couldn’t be considered a blush. He was
angry. How on earth could that sickening experience have aroused him? He
snapped at his step-father, “Let me go!” and managed to tear away since his
grip was slack from the pleasure still coursing through him. Ikuto grabbed his
clothes and quickly dressed, yanking his boxers so fast he must have hurt
himself. But Kazuomi still caught a glimpse—Ikuto was soft and flaccid, not
aroused in the least. Finished dressing, Ikuto bolted from the room, clutching
the key to his father’s violin.
Kazuomi chuckled, reclining in his chair and enjoying the afterglow of his
orgasm.
                                     X X X
(1) Again, some sources state Ikuto’s father’s name as Alto, but I read it in
the manga as Aruto so that’s what I’m going to use. Everyone deal with it.
I feel bad for Ikuto, but I feel really moved by his pain in this chapter. The
poor guy.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Bully for You *****
And man, work ate my life this weekend. Who missed me?
Wow, that last chapter was mad long. Anything now will be short in comparison.
                                     X X X
When Utau finished her recording and finally left the studio, Ikuto wasn’t
there. Her heart thudded painfully—he hadn’t left her, had he? But she found
her brother sitting in the lobby just down the hall, comfortably reclined in an
overstuffed chair. His face was pale but he wore a faint smile and there was
something white and dried smeared on his black pants. Maybe it was cream from
his job at the café. Then, she saw it. Beside him was a familiar white violin
case, worn from use and time, that Utau remembered from her childhood—it was
their father’s violin!—something she hadn’t seen in years, not since their
mother’s death when Kazuomi had cruelly taken it from the young Ikuto.
“Ikuto,” she gasped, her throat tightening with emotion. “Is that…?”
He turned to smile at her, his expression happy but also a little dark, almost
guilty. “It is.”
She rushed to his side and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He
smelled wonderful, like jasmine and paper and coffee with cream and caramel.
She inhaled deeply, snuggling against him. How long had it been since they had
hugged each other? When was the last time Ikuto had let her touch him at all
without shuddering away from her touch, his skin crawling? She sighed in bliss,
her heart in her throat like a heavy stone.
He embraced her in return, rubbing her back as a small sob wracked her fragile
frame.
“You have to play for me,” she whispered into his neck once she had stopped
crying. “Like you used to.”
“I will,” he promised, smoothing her long pale hair. “You’ll have to sing for
me, Utau, just like you used to, too.”
She nodded, eyes glistening. “Definitely, Ikuto,” she whispered. “Definitely.”
Ikuto smiled and her breath caught. He hadn’t looked so happy since their
mother’s death. His smile was like heaven, like a row of candles, like the
spread of white wings. How long had it been since she had seen him really smile
like this? A fresh wave of tears filled Utau’s eyes.
Ikuto brushed the tears from her cheek with his thumb. “Come on,” he said
gently. “Let’s go home.”
She nodded.
He slung the strap of the violin case over his shoulder and his back seemed so
thin, like the weight of the violin would break it. But Ikuto didn’t break.
Instead, he took her hand and led her from the lobby. Content, she followed him
from Easter Corporation to the underground garage where the Jaguar was waiting
for them. She slid into the passenger seat, watching as Ikuto lovingly put the
violin in the trunk before he got behind the wheel and started the car. Maybe,
with this, things would start to look up for them—especially for Ikuto.
“Hey, Ikuto?” she murmured.
“Hmm?”
“He let you have the violin?”
Ikuto froze, his face growing paler, and he didn’t answer.
“Ikuto?” Utau asked, her heart suddenly pounding. “What did you have to do to
get it?”
Almost like a growl of guilt and shame, he told her, “Don’t worry about it. I
have it back now and he won’t take it again.”
Utau sat silently in the passenger seat, looking at her thin pale hands
clenched tightly in her lap, fisted in the fabric of her dress. She didn’t ask
Ikuto about the violin again, but her throat was tight. That hopeful feeling
had left her. Things weren’t going to look up because the truth of the matter
was—a violin was only a violin. A violin was not a miracle.
…
In school on Monday, Amu and Ikuto each dragged themselves in—unaware of the
other’s pain since they didn’t meet up until their shared class towards the end
of the day. Kazuomi had taken Ikuto early in the morning before school, hard
and fast, brutally enough that Ikuto was limping badly no matter how hard he
tried not to. Utau watched her brother closely, her violet eyes shining
strangely and making him nervously uncomfortable. Amu had received multiple
slaps for making herself a breakfast of sweet poptarts that Ami would have
loved.
In their shared art class, Amu sat at the long wooden table beside Yaya and
across from Ikuto and Saaya. She listened half-heartedly to Yaya’s exuberant
chatter, nodding occasionally so that Yaya kept talking, and focused on the
drawing before her. It was childish image of her house as she wished it
was—bright white with live flowers in the flowerboxes, the grass deep green and
the swing swaying idly in the breeze, and her family lined up in front of it,
smiling. She even drew Ami on a cloud up in heaven.
Ikuto watched Amu obviously from across the table, studying the makeup that
coated her face. He didn’t have to worry about her catching him staring because
she never looked up from her drawing. Beneath the thick powder, he could see
the dark shadows of cuts and scabs. Even Amu’s lip was split, a wound she kept
licking and gnawing at out of habit. What had happened to her since he had seen
her walking the road on Sunday?
But Saaya noticed Ikuto staring at the rose-haired girl. A bubble of hot
jealousy and rage welled up in her chest. She had told Amu to stay away from
Ikuto but something had clearly happened between them to attract Ikuto’s
attention. Ikuto was hers! Hers, damn it! It seemed she would just have to talk
to Amu again, but this time… she would do it sooner. She wouldn’t wait a week
before confronting Amu like she had before, when Amu called Ikuto ‘strange.’
Saaya sighed, turning her head to stare at Ikuto. He was such a beautiful young
man with those stunning wine-dark sapphire eyes, unkempt night-dark hair,
creamy pale skin, and lean catlike body. She giggled softly, blushing, and
nibbled the end of her pencil, continuing to stare at him.
Suddenly, he turned his head and glared at her, growling out a sharp, “What?”
Blushing hotter, Saaya quickly whirled her curtain of flame-red hair back to
her drawing and pretended she had never even looked at him. After a moment,
Ikuto turned his attention away from her, alternating his deep gaze between his
artwork and Amu. Surreptitiously, Saaya continued to watch him from the corner
of her eyes and glared across the table at the oblivious Amu. She decided that
she would take action boldly right after school.
So, Saaya waited.
Then, finally, the closing bell rang and the student-body poured out into the
hallways, laughing and chattering, happy to have Monday behind them. The rest
of the week was promising once Monday was out of the way. Saaya gathered her
plan and thoughts as she walked to her locker, books perched on her hip. She
spun her combination, keeping an eye out for Amu’s bright hair.
Finally, Amu appeared, her gaze distant and distracted. She was staring at
nothing, her arms wrapped tightly around her books like a lifeline. She went to
her locker, keeping her golden eyes lowered, put her books away and took out
her bag, and then closed her locker. Then, with her head still lowered and her
eyes half-lidded and hazy, Amu hurried down the hallway to the buses. Saaya
followed her and waited for the prime moment as Amu passed by the open door of
an empty classroom.
“Oops,” Saaya said as she slammed her hip into Amu, knocking the freshman girl
into the classroom. Then, Saaya grabbed the door and closed it behind herself.
“W-what do you want?” Amu choked out. “I haven’t—”
“Oh, bite me, Amu,” Saaya hissed out.
Amu flinched.
“I told you to stay away from Ikuto!” she snapped.
“I-I am!” Amu whispered.
Saaya slapped her across the face, caked-on makeup flaking off against her
palm. “I saw him staring at you.”
Amu looked shocked, stricken, her face growing pale beneath her thick makeup.
“But, I…”
“Shut up!” Saaya shouted, raising her hand to strike Amu across the face again.
“Stay away from Ikuto! He’s mine!”
Amu cowered, a whimper escaping her mouth.
The doorknob rattled, turned, and Tsukiyomi “I don’t answer to Hoshina” Ikuto’s
little sister, Utau, entered the classroom. Her dark hair was tousled and
windblown as if she had been running, her violet eyes bright, and her face
flushed. For a moment, Saaya stared at her desperately, wondering what Ikuto’s
sister was doing here when she was threatening Amu. Then, she saw Utau’s purse
on one of the desks, forgotten. She must have come back for it.
“What’s going on here?” Utau demanded, looking from Saaya’s raised makeup-
covered hand to Amu’s slumped form. “What are you doing, Saaya?”
Saaya sucked in a deep breath and tried to threaten Utau. “It’s none of your
business, Utau,” she snarled.
Utau lifted a brow. “Any particular reason you’re bullying her?”
Though she didn’t know this pink-haired girl, she couldn’t turn her back on
someone in trouble. It just wasn’t in her—her mother had raised her to stand up
for those who wouldn’t stand up for themselves. That rosette-haired girl did
look familiar though… But where had Utau seen her before? Maybe at the bus stop
on the first day of school, from the inside of the Jag as Ikuto drove? Or
running after the bus that day in the rain? That sounded right. She vaguely
remembered asking Ikuto if he had seen her before because her brother had been
slightly captivated, staring out the window at her as they passed.
Steeling herself, Saaya gave Utau a two-handed shove in the chest. The other
girl was unruffled, taking a step back, but Saaya shoved her again and Utau’s
knees hit the seat of a desk. Her legs were taken out from under her and she
crashed backwards, the desk toppling with her as she fell. Utau sat up and her
dark hair all slipped from her head, revealing tightly-pinned blonde tresses
underneath the black wig. Saaya and Amu both gasped, staring at the wig as Utau
quickly yanked it on over her head.
Recognition lit in Saaya’s pretty face. “You… you’re Meikyuu Butterfly! (1)
You’re the famous idol!” Then, a jack-o-lantern grin spread across Saaya’s face
and it was clear she planned to blackmail Utau with this new knowledge.
Utau lurched to her feet, her eyes flashing. “I’ll strangle you!” she shouted.
Then, the door to the classroom swung open again and Ikuto was standing there.
“Utau, did you find your purse?” he asked, but then took in the situation laid
out before him. Saaya had taken a step back, her eyes wide with shock. Utau’s
cheeks were red with frustration and anger, her hands balled into fists. Amu
was cowering on the floor, her cheek red and makeup smudged. Though he wasn’t
sure what was going on, he knew he had to intervene.
Using his long legs to his advantage and ignoring the pain in his backside, he
closed the space between himself and Utau. He wrapped his arm around her hips,
lifting her bodily off the ground. She flailed in his grip, shrieking and
shouting in protest. Then, he turned to Saaya and asked coldly, “What’s going
on here?”
She blushed. “I… I know who your sister is!” she threatened.
Ikuto lifted a brow. “So?”
Saaya froze, her throat working furiously as she swallowed. “Well, I… I… I…”
He continued to stare at her, waiting for her answer.
“I…” Saaya whispered desperately, searching for the reason and power that she
had had moments ago. “I…”
Utau calmed against Ikuto’s side, letting her body droop in his arms. “Put me
down, Ikuto,” Utau said firmly. He did, setting her gently on her feet and then
standing back with his hands in his pockets. With Utau thinking sensibly again,
there was no need for his interference. Utau folded her arms, staring down her
nose at Saaya. “So, you think that because you know my identity, you have power
over us?”
“Y-yes,” Saaya squeaked.
“Here’s a news flash,” Utau said meanly, smirking. “You’re a bully, Saaya.
Ikuto and I both saw you beating up that girl. For all we know, you’re the one
who did that to her face.”
Saaya paled, gasping in protest, “I didn’t!”
“But it looks that way,” Utau said. “Besides, I’m an idol. Do you think more
people knowing about it will hurt me?”
Saaya stuttered, biting her lip.
Utau just grinned at the girl, knowing she had won this.
“Buzz off,” Ikuto said, closing the whole argument.
Saaya nodded, her eyes burning with unshed tears of shame, ducked her head, and
fled the classroom. Utau cursed at her retreating back and went over to her
desk to retrieve her forgotten purse. It was a good thing she had left it
behind or else who knew what might have happened to that strange girl.
Ikuto moved across the room to Amu’s side. “Are you alright?” he asked
gingerly.
She scraped herself to together, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she whimpered.
“You’re sure?” he repeated and offered her his hand.
Amu nodded slowly, tucking some rosy hair behind her ear. Then, timidly, she
slipped her fingers into his and let him pull her to her feet. Stumbling
unsteadily, she clung to his hand for a moment, her fingers trembling. Ikuto
rubbed his thumb over her knuckles comfortingly and seemed to want to pull her
closer, but resisted both for his own reasons and because she looked a little
afraid. Then, suddenly, Amu met his sapphire eyes and fled just as Saaya had
earlier.
“Man,” Ikuto whispered, watching her leave.
“Do you know her?” Utau asked her brother.
“She’s in my art class,” was all he said.
“Oh?” Utau asked him, lifting a brow and smiling mischievously.
“Utau, she’s twelve,” Ikuto said, grasping her elbow and towing her from the
room. “What do you think I am? A pervert?”
“She’s only a freshman. It’s not that big a stretch,” Utau said, smiling. “Do
you like her?”
“No,” he said.
Utau laughed softly, hugging her brother gently from the side. “Ikuto—”
He sighed, cutting her off. “Can we leave now?”
She giggled again and said, “Sure. I have a lot of homework.”
As they drove away from the school, Ikuto looked out the window to make sure
that Amu had managed to catch the bus. He didn’t see her running after it or
walking alongside the road so he assumed she had made it in time. If he had
seen her walking on the street now, he would have stopped and given her a ride.
There was something about her that seemed familiar to him, a kinship of some
sorts though he didn’t necessarily think that was a good thing. The kinship he
felt between them… it was something dark and secret.
                                     X X X
(1) I know Utau’s stage name is Hoshina Utau, but I think it’s a little too
obvious plus I wanted the added drama of Ikuto hating the name Hoshina which he
was forced to take. So her stage name in my story is Meikyuu Butterfly. Just
roll with it everybody. Changes for the sake of creativity and good plot.
I guess this came out pretty long anyway. Oh well.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Truth, Utau *****
My “S” key has been sticking lately so if you see a few extra “ssss” on some
words, that’s why. Hopefully spell-check and I catch most of them, but we might
have a few “ass’es” where there is supposed to be an “as.” Just warning
everyone ahead of time. Watch out for the curse of the stuck “S” key!
                                     X X X
Amu pressed herself against the window on the bus home, her legs hugged against
her chest and arms wrapped around them tightly. She rested her chin on her
knees, staring blankly out the window at the passing scenery. Her cheek ached
where Saaya had slapped her. Why was she always being hurt? What had she done
wrong in her life to deserve being treated this way?
Trying not to cry, Amu forced herself to think of something else.
Her fingers were tingling from where she had touched Ikuto. His skin had been
as soft and smooth as living velvet, but cold. She had never touched someone so
icy-cold—it was almost as if he was already dead—but the pulse in his wrist had
been hammering under her fingertips.
It was strange, she thought to herself, wincing as if Saaya would somehow know
she had even thought that word about Ikuto. He was a strange beautiful person
and his sister, Hoshina Utau, was that famous idol, Meikyuu Butterfly. What
were they doing in a regular public high school if Utau was so famous?
Amu rubbed her fingers together, hoping the chill leftover from Ikuto’s skin
would leave.
She knew he had only come to the classroom look for his sister and Utau had
only showed up to retrieve her forgotten purse and that neither of them had
arrived just to save Amu from Saaya’s bullying. But Ikuto had been there
several times now when Amu needed help. He had taken down that box of band-aids
for her in the pharmacy, he had called Nadeshiko to pick her up when he had
seen Amu on the side of the road, he had brought her a cup of coffee and a
book, and now he had inadvertently come to her rescue when Saaya was bullying
her.
He was like her guardian angel…
Or he was a jinx because every time something bad happened to her, he was
there.
But Ikuto had also made her life difficult and miserable. He had threatened her
on the roof, bruising his fingers into her upper arm, and caused her parents to
hurt her later that night. He had grabbed her in the hallway, holding on to her
until she collapsed in a sobbing heap at his feet. Worse, there had been no
reason for his second threat since she hadn’t spread his dark secret. He had
hurt her and frightened her a lot. Even if he seemed to be trying to make it
right since then.
Amu tucked her cold fingers between her thighs to warm them, but it only felt
like Ikuto’s icy hands were touching her intimately. She shivered and licked
her lips, tasting blood from the jagged split there, and winced at the memory.
She tried to push it away, but the thoughts plagued her anyway.
She was such a bad person, constantly deserving of punishment and pain.
Why couldn’t she be better? Why couldn’t she be the good daughter? Why didn’t
her parents love her as they had Ami?
And the most painful of those thoughts—what if Ami had lived…? How would things
be different?
The bus came to a halt with a jerk and Amu clambered out of her seat, making
her way towards the doors with her head bowed and her arms wrapped tightly
around her bag. She cautiously made her way down the few steps and let herself
through the uneven wooden gate that led to her house. She watched the yellow
school bus leave, almost wishing it would return and take her somewhere
else—somewhere far away where she could be safe. Maybe it could take her into
the past, when Ami had been alive.
She liked the sound of that and whispered it softly, “The bus into the past.”
Smiling faintly, she went into the house and began her daily repertoire of
trying to please her parents, to be the good daughter, to earn their love… She
had started dinner before she had left for school that morning, putting a large
hunk of beef into the crock pot and letting it simmer all day unattended, but
now she had to add potatoes and green beans.
Then, she scrubbed the living room floor where there was a stain of wine and
blood from Sunday night’s beating. Her eyes and throat burned with tears as she
scrubbed, those thoughts coming back in force. Why was she such a bad person?
Why did she deserve to hurt like this? What about Ami? Why was Ami an angel—was
it only because she was dead?
Amu sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, wincing as she
rubbed the cuts on her face accidentally.
Then, strangely, she found her thoughts returning to Ikuto and his little
sister, Utau. He was so strange—buying lube, threatening her, yet protecting
his sister so closely. She had a feeling that Utau was the only thing that
mattered to him in his life. Maybe that was why he was so prickly and cold.
Maybe… there was something more, something far deeper, hidden inside his gruff
and sullen exterior. He was unreachable, so beautiful he was almost inhuman,
and untouchable. There was a fortress built up around his body, protecting him.
Amu scrubbed harder, already hearing the words bouncing off her mind like
stones.
“Ami wouldn’t act this way!”
“Ami wouldn’t be thinking of boys!”
“Ami wouldn’t be after that strange boy!”
“Ami wouldn’t… Ami wouldn’t… Ami wouldn’t…”
There were a lot of things Ami wouldn’t do, but Amu was doing them. Did that
make her a bad person or just different? But… was there something wrong with
being different? Different was just different, if not a little strange. Like
Ikuto. He was strange too. Maybe, they could be unlikely friends. Amu would
like to have a friend, like Ami would have.
Then, Amu heard the garage door roll open and her parents enter the house. Her
heart was caught between excitement and fear and pain, beating against the cage
of her ribs as if it was a bird wanted to escape into the sky. Sadly, the bird
that was her heart would break itself against her bones before it ever escaped.
…
Ikuto was sitting cross-legged on Utau’s bed while she sat beside him, her eyes
glowing like a child being told her favorite story. Ikuto tucked the violin
under his chin, resting his cheek on the warm wood. Gently, he drew the bow
across the strings, his heart throbbing as the soft sound filled the room. His
long fingers pressed and curled, soft music streaming from his father’s
precious instrument. The movement of Ikuto’s head was smooth and sensual, his
blue eyes sliding closed as he played.
Utau leaned against his side and then began to sing. Like her brother, she
loved the music produced by the violin. She could feel her father’s ghostly
arms reaching down from heaven to wrap around them both, sheltering and loving
them. She felt as if Souko’s presence was there as well, her lips feathering
against the top of Utau’s head, returning them to the family they had once
been. Utau sang as Ikuto played, leaning close to her brother’s thin sensual
body.
Then, she felt something warm and damp drip on the top of her head and glanced
up. Ikuto was crying, the crystalline tears rolling slowly down his pale cheeks
and dripping off his chin. Utau’s voice trailed off, captivated by the sight.
Her precious brother…
“I’ll have to seek my pleasure elsewhere,” Kazuomi’s voice bounced through her
skull painfully.
The violin’s sweet song drew to a close, the music fading into stillness. Ikuto
lowered the violin reverently, gently stroking it with his fingertips as he
laid it inside the worn white case. Then, he closed it up and flipped the two
small locks. Even though he had finished playing, he remained seated beside
Utau on her bed.
“Ikuto?” she whispered.
He looked at her, his eyes gentle. “Yeah?”
And she just couldn’t ask him about what Kazuomi did to him. She couldn’t ask
if Ikuto was being raped to protect her. She just couldn’t ask because she
wasn’t certain she actually wanted to know. What if that was the truth? What
if…? “Nothing,” she whispered, forcing a small smile. “It’s nothing.”
Ikuto gazed at her, his eyes saying he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t push
the issue.
“I’m going to go lay down,” he said, “you know, get some sleep before I leave
for work.”
She nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Sleep well.”
He lifted the violin case and left her room, closing the door softly behind
him. Utau sat in her room in silence, staring at the place her brother had been
seated only moments before. She ran her hands over the coverlet, feeling his
residual body heat. Well, if she couldn’t ask Ikuto, maybe she could ask
Kazuomi… But he might not tell her the truth.
Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth anyway.
But it was chewing at her, gnawing at the back of her mind… was her brother
protecting her from sexual abuse at their step-father’s hands? Was he?
Though she didn’t want to know, she had to know.
She decided that once Kazuomi came home, provided Ikuto was still asleep, she
would ask him.
She had to know the truth, no matter what it was.
Utau rose from her desk, unable to focus on her homework any longer. She
gathered up some clean cotton pajamas and padded down the hall to the bathroom.
A long hot bath was exactly what she needed to help her relax and calm her wild
tragic thoughts of Ikuto. She started the water, adding a little bubble bath so
that the entire room smelled like sweet flowers.
Then, she peeked into Ikuto’s room, checking on him because she knew he often
check on her at night. He was curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows like
a cat, dark hair fanned across the pillows like coal on cream. His face was
smooth in sleep, eyes moving slightly as he dreamed. Gingerly, Utau lifted the
blanket which he had kicked down to his knees and covered him up, gently
tucking the blankets in around his slender body.
The moment her small hands touched him, he woke with a start, lurching up in
his bed. His long-fingered hand closed sharply around her wrist, digging in and
yanking it away from his body. His eyes were wide, his face was ghost-pale, and
his mouth was open, panting desperately for breath.
“I-Ikuto,” Utau whispered.
For a moment, he stared at her without appearing to see her. Then, with a jolt,
he released her wrist and yanked the blankets up to his shoulders as if to hide
within them. “Utau,” he gasped out. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“I was just checking on you,” she whispered, cradling her wrist to her chest.
“You kicked all the blankets off and I thought you might be cold.”
“I’m fine,” he whispered. Then, he noticed her clutching her wrist to her
chest. “You startled me. Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She nodded, accepting his apology but frightened nonetheless. She had never
seen him this way, waking so violently with that tragic expression on his pale
face. He had reacted as if a monster had touched him while he slept, not his
little sister. Her mind unwillingly swam back to Kazuomi’s words and Ikuto’s
body. She had to ask, she had to know.
“Ikuto,” she whispered. “W-why do you let him… rape you?”
He jerked as if she had struck him across the face, fisting his hands in the
blankets. “Utau,” he began softly, but shook his head. “Just go to bed.”
She sat down beside him, desperately gripping his hand. “No, please, Ikuto.
Tell me the truth. Tell me why.”
He pulled away from her. “Go to bed, Utau,” he said sharply, coldly. He didn’t
want her to know. His heart was throbbing, racing, pounding as if trying to
escape. He didn’t want Utau to know that ten years ago he had made a choice for
both of them—it was either his body or it was hers. “Go to bed,” he said again.
“Ikuto,” she pleaded. Then, she lowered her eyes and whispered, “I heard him
say… he’d seek his pleasure elsewhere… that night he… raped you in the
bathroom.”
Ikuto shuddered, unable to find his voice.
“Are you… protecting me? Ikuto, please, tell me,” her voice cracked as she
sobbed. “I have to know.”
Gently, Ikuto pulled Utau into an embrace, stroking her long hair. “Utau,” he
whispered. “It was my choice to have it be this way.”
She sniffled, sobbing into his chest. “Why? Why would you do this for me?”
He hugged her tightly. “Because you’re my little sister,” he whispered into her
hair.
“But… your body… How much does it hurt you?”
He shivered. “It’s alright,” he breathed.
“But, Ikuto, you should let him—”
He pressed his fingers to her mouth. “No, Utau,” he whispered. “He’s already
taken me. It doesn’t matter anymore. You,” he smiled brushing a long blonde
strand of hair back from her tear-dampened cheek, “You are precious to me. I
want to protect you. I won’t let him hurt you.”
Utau sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Ikuto,” she whispered.
He hushed her, but she had to speak these words, even if they weren’t enough to
express how she was feeling completely. They would have to do because honestly,
what words existed for this kind of situation? This was something no one should
ever have to say.
“Ikuto…” she whispered. “Th-thank you… s-so much…” Though she was unable to say
what it was that she was grateful for.
He smiled softly, sadly, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You should get
some sleep,” he said softly. “It’s almost ten and I have to leave soon.”
She nodded, slipped from his embrace, and left his room. In a state of shock,
she walked to the bathroom and stared at the tub, filled to nearly-overflowing.
Almost absently, she turned off the water and then sat down on the rim of the
tub. After a moment, she sank into the warm water, clothes and all and soaked
there. It was easier to pretend she wasn’t crying like that. Or maybe she was
really pretending she was swimming in a pool of tears. It was hard to say what
she was thinking at that moment in time.
…
After Utau left his bedroom, Ikuto just sat there in his bed, hands folded in
his lap. He wasn’t really thinking, but his mind was swirling with thoughts. He
tried to focus on breathing and he noticed it was a little easier. A great
weight had been lifted off his chest. He had told Utau the truth of the matter,
his darkest secret.
Yes, he had decided to let Kazuomi rape him.
But he had done it to protect his little sister.
Ikuto ran his hands through his night-dark hair with a soft sigh. Finally, he
dragged himself out of bed, dressed in his work clothes, and headed for the
door. It was strange that Kazuomi wasn’t home yet and Ikuto checked on Utau
before he left. She wasn’t in her bedroom so he peeked in the bathroom, the
door hanging open slightly.
Utau was sitting in a steaming bath, clothes and all, silently weeping.
Ikuto closed the bathroom door, but didn’t disturb her.
He couldn’t imagine what she was thinking right now. Was she blaming herself
for all the horrible things Kazuomi did to him? Was she wishing she could
protect her brother somehow? Was she caught in heartbroken disbelief? Was she
praying to their mother? Ikuto didn’t know and he didn’t care to ask. He wasn’t
sure he wanted to know what she was thinking at all.
                                     X X X
Alright, Utau finally knows why Kazuomi is raping Ikuto and why Ikuto puts up
with it—all for her. Man, what a thing to find out, huh? I’d be traumatized for
life. That like finding out someone died so you could live. I love the way that
whole scene came out. I think it’s so real and angsty and wonderful.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** A Place to Go? *****
I really have nothing to report. Work should either get easier or harder
because they hired three new people. (Four, but one got fired his first day… He
just vanished in the middle of the shift! The rest of us were all looking
around like ‘Where’d he go?’ and he never turned up.)
                                     X X X
The Hinamori family was seated around the kitchen table, the crock pot on a pot
holder between them with a large ladle swirling in the rich stew. Amu had set
the table earlier and now, they were all eating quietly together. Tsumugu sat
at the head of the table, Midori to his left and Amu to his right.
“This is delicious,” Midori said appreciatively. “Isn’t it, honey?”
Tsumugu nodded, chewing eagerly. “When did you learn to cook so well, Amu?”
She rolled her shoulders, basking in their love. “I’m taking a cooking class in
school,” she told him.
“How is school going, sweetie?” Midori asked.
“Good, good,” Amu murmured.
“Enjoying your classes?”
“Uh-huh,” she said with a nod.
“Making any friends?” Midori asked.
“Boyfriends?” Tsumugu added. “Like that punk who dropped you off here.”
Amu choked on her bite of stew and took a quick drink of water. “He’s just a
friend, Dad,” she whispered.
Her father’s eyes narrowed.
A light bulb came on in the back of Amu’s head. “Actually, I’m friends with his
sister, Nadeshiko. They’re twins.”
“His sister?” Tsumugu repeated, some of the raging north wind taken from his
sails. “So… you’re friends with his sister.”
Amu nodded, smiling with relief. “We have gym together.”
“Ah,” he remarked and turned his attention back to his dinner.
Midori broke into the conversation. “Twins?” she repeated, smiling and angling
her head. “That’s so nice. I’ve always wanted to have… twins…” She trailed off,
her voice cracking with emotion as the loss of Ami swam to the surface of her
heart. She suddenly turned to Tsumugu and stared at him, her eyes wide and
tragic. “Tsumugu?” she whispered.
Tsumugu lifted his head and gazed at his wife. For a moment, the sadness seemed
to pass between them, stringing and weaving an invisible web. Amu was a fly
caught between them, trapped in the sight of a hungry spider.
Her heart began to pound. “Mom? Dad?” she whispered.
They continued to gaze at each other, silence stretching like a rubber band
between the adults. Amu sensed the breaking point was dangerously close and who
knew what would happen when the sadness and loss overflowed, spilling
everywhere like an ocean of tears. She bit her lip and set down her spoon,
watching them cautiously.
But nothing happened.
Finally, Midori whispered, “Should we try to have another child, Tsumugu?”
He clasped her hands gently. “What do you think?” he asked her.
She smiled, her eyes brimming with tears. “Maybe twins…”
Tsumugu kissed her lips gently.
“We could put them in…” Midori’s voice cracked, her eyes widening in sudden
realization as she whispered, “Ami’s… room…”
Silence stretched achingly through the kitchen.
Then, Tsumugu turned to Amu, his eyes like steel. “If you weren’t here, we
could use your room,” he hissed.
Amu whimpered, shrinking back. “Daddy, please… don’t do this.”
Midori got to her feet in a flash, still desperately gripping her husband’s
hand. “Get out!” she shouted. Her eyes bloomed with tears, her cheeks flushing
violently. “Get out, Amu! Why did you live? Why did Ami have to die?” she
shrieked wildly.
Amu lurched from her chair and stumbled backwards into the kitchen counter. If
she stayed, who knew what would happen to her? Would her life turn into her
living nightmare? Would Ami’s corpse rise from the grave to be reanimated by
Amu’s stolen life? Would they simply kill her? Or would it be the same as
always—punishment for the bad things living inside her? Punishment because she
deserved it? Because she was a bad person?
She didn’t stick around to find out.
The moment her father rose from his chair and took a step towards her, Amu fled
the house. She tripped her way out into the dark night and ran without a care
or concern for where she was going. All that mattered was that she got away. So
she ran, faster and harder, pushing her body to its limit.
She soon found herself on Main Street, panting. She slowed to a walk, looking
around as if she had never seen her surroundings before. The world was encased
in dark shadows, deep pools of darkness where monsters could be lurking. She
shook herself harshly—she wasn’t a child anymore. She didn’t believe in
monsters. Lifting her head, she walked down the deserted street, relishing the
moments she spent beneath bright streetlights and shivering in the cool
darkness between the pools of light.
Then, she saw movement at the mouth of an alley and heard as rattle and crash.
Trash spilled across the sidewalk, a black cat darted across her path, and then
the night was still. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been
holding.
“I don’t believe in monsters,” she told herself sternly and urged her legs to
walk past the alley.
As she passed, a man emerged. He was clearly homeless, reeking and scraggly
with his grey beard knotted and dirty with the remains of food. He had a filthy
satchel slung over his shoulder, filled with who knew what, but stained with a
hideous amount of blood. Amu shrank back from him, her teeth chattering so hard
she thought they’d break.
“Are you lost, little girl?” the man asked, his breath stinking of alcohol.
“N-no,” she whispered.
“I can help you. What’s your name?” He asked as he walked towards her.
How many little girls had he preyed upon?
Amu’s heart raced. “N-no,” she tried to say firmly, but it came out a squeak.
“Come here, little girly,” he crooned and then coughed.
“No…”
He reached for her, his fingernails ragged and filthy.
Amu didn’t give him a chance to touch her. She wasn’t the heroine of a story,
she wasn’t a princess, and she wasn’t a warrior. She was just a girl, a
terrible bad girl who wasn’t even loved by her parents. If this man dragged her
off into the darkness, no one would save her. Certainly no one would look for
her. She wasn’t even sure anyone would miss her, not even her parents. So,
before he could grab her and take her away, she turned and ran.
He called after her, but she didn’t pay any attention. Even if no one would
miss her or care, she still wasn’t ready to die.
By the time she stopped running, her legs and lungs burning, throat parched and
tasting of blood, she was nearly a mile from her house. Exhausted, she leaned
against a tree in the park on Main Street and slowly slumped to her knees,
sobbing into her hands. Once she stopped moving, the chill of the night seeped
into her and she shivered violently, her teeth chattering. It became obvious
that if she spent the night outside, she might die on her own. But… where could
she go?
…
At the Cat’s Eye, Ikuto was absently wiping down the counter in the café
section of the bookshop. It was nearly midnight and the shop was empty of
customers, even the late-night insomniacs that usually hung out there. He
sighed heavily, slumping down and resting his head on the counter. He closed
his eyes, breathing deeply the scent of jasmine, parchment, and coffee with
caramel.
He was tired and he was sore. But, on the other hand, he was restless. He was
worried about Utau. How was she going to take the truth about their step-
father’s rape and abuse of him? Would she blame herself? Or would she blame him
for not fighting back? There was a lot to think about since he had confessed
the truth to his little sister.
Then, the little chime over the front door jingled softly.
Ikuto jerked his head up, dark hair tickling his cheeks as he moved, pretending
that he hadn’t been nearly-sleeping on the freshly-washed counter. “Welcome,”
he called, but his voice faded before he finished the rest of his greeting. He
stared at her, blankly stunned by the sight standing in the doorway.
It was Hinamori Amu. Her pale rose-colored hair was mussed, hanging around her
face in stringy wisps and knotted in places, sticking to the tears on her
cheeks. Her face was pale, her eyes were gleaming like gold coins that had been
abandoned in a sunken schooner, and her lip was still hideously split. She had
her hands clenched in the front of her shirt, fingers trembling, and her right
knee was skinned as if she had fallen. She stared at him desperately, her lips
parting to speak but no sound came out.
“Amu,” he whispered. “What are you doing here? It’s nearly midnight.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “It’s… I just… I am… I can’t…” She bit her lip,
breaking open the split there. Then, she turned to leave, hugging her small
body tightly.
“Wait!” Ikuto closed the space between them, grasping her wrist and pulling her
back into the sweet-scented warmth of the shop. The chime jingled again as the
door swung closed, blocking out the night’s chill. “Wait, Amu. What’s going
on?”
She stared at his long-fingered hand wrapped around her wrist, reminded for
some reason of the homeless man from the alley, until he removed his touch.
Then, she sniffled, fresh tears rolling down her stained sallow cheeks. “I was…
hoping Nadeshiko would be here,” she whispered.
“Nadeshiko and Nagihiko work after school,” Ikuto said. “I work the night
shift. Why? What happened?”
She shook her head, a ragged sob escaping her mouth. “I can’t… It’s… I just…”
Ikuto ushered her to the counter, sat her down in one of the barstools, and
ducked behind the counter. At the coffee bar, he prepared her a mug of his
famous trademark not-coffee. Amu watched him absently as he prepared it. He
filled the mug halfway with coffee, filled the rest with hot rich cream, and
then added more caramel than she thought was healthy for any one person. He
stirred it, took a sip, added a packet of sugar and some chocolate sauce, and
then slid the mug across the counter to Amu.
“Here,” he murmured.
Gratefully, she wrapped her cold hands around the mug and took a sip,
completely uncaring for the fact that he had taken a sip as well. Some distant
part of her mind screamed that it was an indirect kiss, but she was beyond
caring about silly things like that. After she drank half of it, she sighed
heavily and set the mug down, her eyelids dropping. She didn’t realize how
tired she was until the warmth of the coffee filled her up and relaxed her.
“What happened?” Ikuto asked again.
If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she never would have dreamed of telling the
strange threatening boy anything about herself. But she was so tired and so
cold and the coffee had relaxed her so completely. She found that the words
just tumbled out, one after the other, even though she didn’t tell him the
whole truth of the matter.
“My parents were fighting,” she confessed softly, tightening her grip on the
mug. “I just… I had to get out of there.”
Ikuto circled the bar and sat down on a stool beside her, resting his long
fingers on the polished wood. “Do they fight a lot?”
Amu jolted, her eyes widened as she stared at him tragically. She seemed to
realize that she had been speaking about her life and was stricken, horrified
by her confession.
He lifted his hands. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
For a moment, she was silent, sipping the coffee he had given her. Then, she
took a deep breath and let it out slowly, setting down the mug with trembling
hands. “Yeah,” she said finally. “They do. They fight… almost every night…”
Ikuto reached out, hesitated, and pulled his hand back.
She sniffled, wiping her cheeks with her hands.
He took a napkin from the dispenser and handed it to her.
Gratefully, she accepted it, wiped her face, and blew her nose.
“If you try to hand that back to me, I’ll strangle you,” he said, his lips
curving into a teasing smile.
Amu let out a watery laugh, her mouth cracking into a smile. “Don’t worry,” she
said. “I won’t.” To prove her point, she rose from the stool, crossed the room,
and threw the used napkin in the trash. Then, she hesitated, staring out the
window at the dark night beyond the glass.
“You don’t have to go home,” Ikuto said gently.
She turned to stare at him. “Where else can I go?” she whispered.
“You can stay here,” he said. Then he realized what he was saying and should
have bitten his tongue off. What was he thinking? She could stay here, but he
got off work at four and had to go home to where Kazuomi was waiting to rape
and destroy him. There was nothing Ikuto could do to help her, but he had
already started speaking and there was no taking it back now. Open mouth—insert
foot.
“Really?” she breathed.
He could only nod.
She turned to face him and whispered, “Thank you.”
Silence stretched between them.
“C-can I ask you something?” she whispered suddenly.
“What?”
“Are you… gay?”
Ikuto’s heart skipped a beat. He stared hard at Amu until she shrank under his
gaze.
“S-sorry,” she whispered.
He sighed. “No, it’s… I’m not gay.”
“Then the lube…?”
He bit back the urge to snap at her. “It’s just… it’s nothing for you to be
concerned with.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone,”
she said suddenly. “I won’t.”
“I know you won’t,” he murmured.
She looked up and their eyes met for a moment. Ikuto’s deep sapphire-blue eyes
were so dark and she was reminded of the phrase ‘still waters run deep.’ There
was something lurking there under the surface of Ikuto’s gaze. For a moment,
she wondered what he saw in her eyes. Then, she abruptly looked away. She
didn’t want to know what he saw in her face, if he could see through the makeup
she wore into the bruises hidden underneath.
                                     X X X
I absolutely loved the way the scenes with the old man and the black cat came
out. In hindsight, I feel like it might be homage to my other two Shugo Chara
stories (The Man Who Can’t Be Moved and Misfortune of the Black Cat), however
unintentional it was.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Pretty Little Lies *****
A few people are starting to whine about the lack of Amuto in this story. I
have three words for you: Deal. With. It. In a story like this, if they just
jump into love and friendship, it’s meaningless in the nice angsty healing
process. Plus, people who have been abused and hurt are very slow to trust.
So, if you don’t like slow meaningful love—go away.
If you’re in this for the long haul—welcome, friends!
                                     X X X
They didn’t talk after that.
In silence, Ikuto continued absently straightening the café and bookshop. Amu
sat down at a table by the window and gazed out at the night beyond, toying
with the petals of the potted calla lily sitting in the center of the table.
Within half an hour, she had fallen asleep with her head resting on the table,
breathing deeply, her pale pretty face smooth with sleep. Ikuto didn’t have a
jacket, but he untied his apron from around his hips and draped it over her
small body. She shifted, softly moaning in her dreams, and snuggled into the
apron still warm with his body heat.
He smiled softly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
A customer came in—a young man wearing scrubs with dark circles beneath his
eyes—and he ordered a large black coffee. Ikuto filled a large cup to the brim
and handed it to the man. With a small grateful nod, the man took a fast sip
despite the scalding temperature, and left the café. Ikuto wondered what
horrors he had seen in the night—what dead bodies, what anguish, what spilled
blood, what sorrow, what loss, what cruelty and hurt…
There was far too much of all of it in this world.
It seemed that there would never be enough kindness.
Ikuto sighed and leaned his elbows on the counter, watching over the bookshop-
café and the sleeping Amu. Moths fluttered aimlessly against the glass, drawn
to the light of the café. The night beyond the glass was deep and vast, like
something out of a horror movie. He stared into the dimness, waiting for the
monsters to come any moment now, but the world outside was still.
There were no monsters out there except the human ones, like his step-father.
…
Nikaidou Yuu was an insomniac.
He hadn’t been able to sleep properly since his late teens though he would
never know what prompted his sudden change in sleeping patterns. Now, in his
thirties, he had grown quite used to his insomnia and actually had come to
enjoy the long deep nights that used to drive him insane in his youth.
He was sitting at the coffee table in his living room, seated cross-legged
sandwiched between the couch and the table. The television was turned on but
largely ignored, the news anchor’s talking muted in the background. He had his
paperwork for Easter spread all over the table amongst pens, pencils, and
erasers, but was largely ignoring that as well. He hadn’t been able to focus on
work lately.
All he had been able to think about late was that day in the boss’s office.
Ever since Utau’s manager, Sanjo Yukari, had mentioned that Ikuto was going to
play the violin at Utau’s concert, something had felt off to Yuu. He remembered
very well the day Kazuomi had come in with Tsukiyomi Aruto’s violin, having
taken it from his grieving step-son so soon after the loss of his mother. It
had been so horrible to see Ikuto’s young face crippled with grief, desperately
reaching out for the violin as it was taken from him. There was no way Kazuomi
would have given the violin back to Ikuto so easily, not with how greatly he
had enjoyed taking it away. There had to be something more to the situation.
Plus, Kazuomi’s secretary had told him to wait five minutes and then go into
the boss’s office so he had. But when he knocked on the door, he had the
distinct feeling that something bad was happening behind the closed door. When
Kazuomi had finally bid him to enter, the office had been neat and there was
nothing out of the ordinary save what appeared to be a teenager’s crumpled
clothing on the desk at Kazuomi’s elbow. When the man had seen Yuu looking at
the clothing, he had quickly brushed it onto the floor—as if he had something
to hide. He had also seen Ikuto come up, but he hadn’t seen the boy leave.
Yuu didn’t know what to make of that.
Something strange was going on and Yuu wanted to get to the bottom of it, but
he didn’t know how to begin.
He couldn’t go up against the boss and risk losing his job. There was no way he
could ask Ikuto about it. That boy only ever spoke to Utau, everyone else got
the cold shoulder. Utau was too blissful, too happy, to even contemplate bad
things happening. Yuu couldn’t do anything.
He gnawed on the end of his pen, staring blankly at the television.
Yuu was a soft touch, kind and gentle, and he cared about all the little
things. It was at times like this when he wondered why he hadn’t taken a
different career path. So why was he working for a corporation like Easter?
Yes, it established the dreams of some people, like Hoshina Utau and the boy
band Darts, but it didn’t actually help anyone. Sometimes, Yuu had the feeling
that Kazuomi was only fulfilling those dreams for the money, for the power and
influence.
Yuu should have been a teacher. (By law, teachers were bound to report
suspected child abuse.) Then maybe he could have done something about his
suspicions. Something was wrong between Kazuomi and Ikuto, maybe even with
Utau. He sensed that with absolute certainty, but he didn’t know what nor did
he know how to intervene. Even if he had been a teacher, he would still be
caught between a rock and a hard place because he didn’t know for certain
exactly what was happening behind closed doors.
The phone rang.
Absently, Yuu picked it up and said blearily into the receiver, “I should have
been a teacher.”
“Wha—?” a woman’s voice asked. “Yuu? What are you talking about?”
He flushed, realizing he had just spilled nonsense into the phone. “Nothing.
What’s up, Yukari?”
She sighed. “Nothing, I just… couldn’t sleep and I know you don’t sleep
either.”
“What’s bothering you?” he asked her gently.
“It’s Utau,” she murmured. “She was… so distant at rehearsal today. She didn’t
seem to have any energy and her voice was so raw, as if she was in pain.
Usually, she’s an angel when she sings, but today… I think something might be
wrong.”
Yuu’s throat ran dry and his heart skipped a beat. Should he tell Yukari what
he suspected as well? Maybe together, they could figure out what was really
going on. But… what if it was nothing… What if it was only strange
coincidences? He shook his head silently.
“Yuu, are you there?”
“I’m here,” he said softly.
“I’m worried about Utau,” Yukari continued. “What if she’s sick? What if she’s
hurt? What if something’s wrong?”
“You’re her manager. I’m sure if something was wrong she’d tell you,” Yuu
assured the woman.
“But—”
“Maybe you could talk to Kazuomi about getting her some time off,” he offered.
Yukari was quiet a moment. “I can’t. Not this close to her concert. He’d never
allow it,” she said finally.
Yuu sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he said softly.
“I know,” she said softly. “I’m just… I’m so worried.”
“I’m sure everything will turn out okay,” Yuu said. If only he could believe
his own empty promises.
“Yeah,” Yukari murmured. “I’m sure you’re right. Thanks, Yuu. Goodnight.” Then,
without another word, Utau’s manager hung up.
Yuu set the phone back in its cradle and stared at it blankly. Utau wasn’t the
kind of person who asked anyone else for help and neither was Ikuto. Even if
something was wrong with them, they would never ask for help. Yuu told himself
he was going to watch them both a little closer, searching for signs of
whatever was wrong. He would help them, he promised himself. If only he could
believe his own shallow empty promises, but he couldn’t.
…
Four o’clock came around a little too quickly for Ikuto’s liking. The sooner
his shift ended, the sooner he’d have to decided what he was going to do about
Amu. He couldn’t leave her here, he couldn’t take her with him, he couldn’t
return her to her home, and it was way too early to take her to school. Even
though she had come to the café looking for Nadeshiko or Nagihiko, he didn’t
want to wake the twins at this ungodly hour of the morning. What was he going
to do?
Then, finally, he didn’t have any more time to think about it. Four o’clock
came and the manager arrived to cover the shift from four to noon. Bidding the
manger a good morning, Ikuto crossed the café to where Amu was sleeping slumped
at the table. She stirred, a soft whimper escaping her lips as Ikuto gently
shook her, but she didn’t wake.
He sighed heavily and went to pull the Jaguar around front of the café-
bookshop. Then, leaving the engine idling, he came back inside for Amu. Gently,
he gathered her up in his arms, wincing as the extra weight of her body sent a
sharp stab of pain through his violated body. Swallowing his soft sound of
pain, he carried her carefully out to the car and settled her gingerly in the
passenger seat.
She moaned, her cold fingers gripping his shirt for a moment. He didn’t let
himself get nervous about her clinging to him. She was cold from sleeping on
the table with an apron as her blanket and Ikuto’s body was throbbing with
warmth. That was all she wanted from his body right now—warmth. She wasn’t
Kazuomi.
He buckled her in. With a sigh, he slipped behind the wheel and pulled out of
the lot, driving home on autopilot. He hesitated in the driveway, the engine
rumbling like a purring kitten. He glanced from Amu’s sleeping face to the
darkened windows. What if he brought her inside and Kazuomi was awake? What
would happen? Maybe he could leave her in the car…? No, Utau would strangle
him.
Ikuto pulled into the garage, cut the engine, and got out of the Jaguar.
Gingerly, he once again gathered up Amu’s sleeping form. Since the drive had
warmed her, she didn’t snuggle into him as she had before. In fact, she seemed
repulsed by his touch, even in sleep. He nudged the door closed with his hip,
wincing in pain, and then carried her upstairs.
He peeked in at Utau and found his little sister sleeping peacefully. He was
loathe to wake her, but what else could he do with Amu? He couldn’t risk
bringing her into his bedroom. What if Kazuomi came in during the night to rape
him? He didn’t want anyone else to know about that—it was bad enough Utau knew.
With a sigh, he entered his sister’s room and sat down on the edge of the
mattress, holding Amu gently in his lap. “Utau,” he whispered and shook her
shoulder lightly. “Utau, wake up.”
Her purple eyes fluttered open. “Ikuto?” she whispered and started to sit up.
“What’s wrong?”
He pressed her back into the pillows. “Don’t get up,” he murmured. “You
remember Hinamori Amu, right?”
She nodded, staring up at him with eyes like starlight, her pale hair fanned
across the pillow. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Why?”
He shifted his legs and Amu moaned softly.
Utau sat up sharply despite Ikuto’s palm resting on her shoulder. “What
happened?”
“Her parents were fighting so she ran out and somehow wound up at the Cat’s Eye
café,” he explained softly. “She fell asleep and I didn’t know what to do with
her.”
“So you… brought her here?” Utau asked, shocked.
Ikuto rolled his shoulders. “What was I supposed to do?”
Utau didn’t have an answer for him. “Okay, but… what about…?”
Closing his eyes, Ikuto flinched away.
“I’m sorry,” Utau whispered.
“That’s why I want her to stay in here with you,” he explained. “Lend her a
school uniform for tomorrow and we’ll leave early, alright?”
Utau nodded and lifted the covers, sliding over to make space for Amu’s small
form. The girl’s body was so warm, heated with Ikuto’s residual body heat.
Ikuto pulled the covers back over both girls, smoothing the blankets gently,
and pressed a soft kiss to Utau’s temple.
“Sleep tight,” he whispered to his sister.
She smiled at him. “You’re a good person, Ikuto.”
He didn’t respond. He simply left her room and closed the door softly behind
himself. If he was such a good person, why did he keep doing bad things—like
threatening and intimidating Amu? And why did bad things keep happening to him?
On some level, karma must have been punishing him for that bad things he did.
He loved his sister with his whole heart and would die to protect her, but he
just couldn’t believe her pretty little lies.
                                     X X X
I feel a little like Lemony Snicket. I have a small collection of well-meaning
but useless adults in this story and the others are bad guys.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** A Hurried Morning *****
Randomreader: The timeline would be off if Utau was distant because of finding
out the truth. I could see why you would think that, but I played that scene
out as she’s just distant because of all the crap that happens at home. She’s
distant and sad because her step-father is raping her brother. She won’t want
anyone to know why so by the time she gets to rehearsal again, she’ll have
thought of a way to hide her feelings. Hope that clears it up.
                                     X X X
Ikuto’s alarm went off loudly in his ear, ten minutes earlier than usual. He
wanted to make certain he would be able to get Utau and Amu out of the house
before Kazuomi woke up and had his way with his frail body. He quickly shut off
the alarm, dressed in his school uniform, and hurried down the hall to Utau’s
room. He eased open the door and woke her urgently but gently.
Utau’s violet eyes slid open and she stifled a yawn. “Ikuto… it’s early…”
“I know and I’m sorry, but get up,” he said.
Utau nodded and scraped herself out from beneath the warm covers, rubbing her
eyes.
Ikuto turned his attention to Amu, gently waking her as well. When her golden
eyes slid open and landed on his face, she immediately squeezed them tightly
shut. “This is… a dream,” she whispered and fisted her hands in the sheets.
“Wake up,” Ikuto said firmly and shook her a little roughly. He didn’t want to
frighten her any further, but he was in a hurry. He had to get Utau and Amu out
of this house before Kazuomi woke up.
Amu gasped, her eyes opening wide. “W-why am I here?” she gasped.
Utau elbowed Ikuto aside. “You went to the café where Ikuto works last night
and fell asleep there. He brought you home with him.”
Amu’s face went pale as she stared desperately at the boy.
“Don’t worry,” Utau put in. “You slept in here with me.”
“And now, it’s time to get up,” Ikuto said firmly, pulling both of them from
Utau’s bed by their wrists. His fingers were like ice. “Get dressed and let’s
go. Meet me in the garage, okay?”
Utau nodded, sensing his worry. “We’ll just be a minute,” she assured him.
He ducked his head in a sort of nod and left her bedroom, giving the girls
privacy.
Utau yawned and stretched, rummaging around in her closet for a spare school
uniform. She pulled it out and handed it to Amu. “It will probably be a little
big on you. Just make it work, okay?”
Amu nodded, hugging the clothes to her chest.
Shamelessly, Utau stripped out of her pajamas and flit around the room in her
panties, getting dressed. She fastened her bra and put on deodorant and then
realized Amu was just standing there, pale with bruises and cuts standing out
on her face. “You can change, you know,” Utau said. “I’m not going to jump you
or anything. Girls don’t do it for me.”
Amu jolted, her golden eyes meeting Utau’s for a moment before she looked away.
“I… I can’t…” she whispered.
“Are you that shy? I’m a girl too, you know?”
Amu bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t.”
Utau sighed, peeked out into the hallway to make sure Kazuomi wasn’t lurking
out there, and guided Amu into the bathroom. “Hurry. I’ve got to brush my teeth
and stuff so we can get out of here.”
Amu nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
Utau rolled her shoulders and ducked back into her bedroom, thinking it
probably hadn’t been a good idea to be out in the hallway where Kazuomi might
see her in her bra and panties, but nothing had happened. She was unmolested
and safe, thanks to Ikuto. She wondered why Amu was so shy, but Ikuto was weird
about his naked body, too. Maybe they were both going through the same kind of
hell. Quickly, Utau finished dressing, gathered up her school supplies and
disguise, and knocked on the bathroom door before entering.
But Amu was still dressing, shirtless in her bra though dressed from the waist
down in the pleated skirt. Amu whirled around, quickly yanking on the black
blouse, and Utau glimpsed a barrage of hideous bruises and welts on the girl’s
back. It looked as if someone had taken a belt to her. And that was to say
nothing of the cuts and bruises on Amu’s face. Stunned, for a moment, Utau
could only stare until Amu finished dressing and had hidden all her bruises
save the ones on her face.
Softly, Amu whispered, “I… fell down.”
‘Yeah,’ Utau thought, ‘And my brother is gay.’ But she said instead, “Do you
need some makeup?”
Amu nodded. “Please.”
Utau only had thick stage makeup but it was perfect for the purpose of covering
cuts and bruises. With expert ease, though her small hands were shaking, Amu
covered the marks on her face and wrists. Utau brushed her teeth and fixed her
black wig on over her pale hair. Then, she brushed her teeth, found a fresh
toothbrush for Amu, and let her brush her teeth as well. Then, checking the
hallway one final time, Utau ushered Amu out into the garage where Ikuto was
waiting nervously by the Jag.
Relief surged through him when he saw them and he gestured to the car, bottling
both girls up inside. Amu clambered into the back, Utau into the passenger
seat, and Ikuto got behind the wheel. He opened the garage and forced himself
not to peel out like something was chasing them. Even if Kazuomi came into the
garage now, it was too late.
They had gotten safely through the morning—but it wasn’t even six o’clock yet.
School didn’t start until seven-thirty. What would they do for more than an
hour and a half?
Ikuto was just starting to worry about it, gnawing on the inside of his cheek,
when Utau suggested, “We should get some breakfast. We’ve got a lot of time so
why don’t we stop at a diner or something?” She glanced at her brother,
offering him a small smile that said, ‘I’ve got your back,’ and he returned it
with gratitude.
“I… I don’t have any money,” Amu murmured.
Utau snorted. “Please,” she said. “I’m Meikyuu Butterfly. Money is no object.”
Ikuto just sighed.
“So?” Utau asked, turning to Ikuto. “How about it? When was the last time you
ate something anyway? My treat.”
Ikuto sighed again. How was it that even when Utau had his back, she still
undermined him. She was like an angel and a devil all mixed up and swirled
together in one body. He had no doubts that she would immediately help him
should he need it, but she was also constantly pecking at him even though she
meant well.
“What?” she barked at him. “Aren’t you hungry? You should eat more. You’re like
a twig!”
“I know, Utau,” he said. “I just don’t want to get all jiggly like you.”
Her face colored. “I’m not fat!” she shouted and smacked him in the shoulder.
“You take that back!”
“Ow, ow!” he grumbled and warded off her slaps with one hand. Needless to say,
Utau wasn’t much of a threat and he knew her attack pattern like the back of
his hand. “If you don’t cut it out, I’ll drop you off somewhere unpleasant,” he
threatened, even though he never would have.
Utau huffed, folded her arms angrily across her chest, and turned her attention
out the window.
In the backseat, Amu giggled softly. She was jealous of Utau and Ikuto, of
Nadeshiko and Nagihiko—she couldn’t stop wondering what her relationship with
Ami would have been like had Ami lived. No matter how hard she tried not to
think that, she just couldn’t help it. She missed her sister and that was
something she didn’t often allow herself.
Ikuto glanced in the rearview mirror at the sound of Amu’s soft laughter. Her
face was smooth and faintly sad, her pale pink lips curved into a faint smile.
Even though he face was bruised and timid, she was a very pretty girl, but she
was so young, so innocent. He would have loved to have a friend, but he
couldn’t…
Misreading his expression, Utau grinned, elbowing him.
He quickly snapped his eyes back to the road and focused on driving. He didn’t
have time for a life outside of being violated at home, going to school during
the day, and working at night. He had to focus on his goal, his dream—he had to
save up enough money to get himself and Utau away from Kazuomi and he had to
protect Utau. Amu, and making friends, were of no concern to him. He slid Utau
a meaningful look, but she had turned around in her seat and was chatting
amicably with Amu.
So, Ikuto simply drove and kept his dark thoughts to himself. It was sacrilege
to be thinking so darkly this early in the morning anyway, but Ikuto’s
nightmare didn’t end when the sun came up in the morning. In fact, it usually
began at first light. The light no longer protected him from monsters.
“Ikuto!”
With a jolt, he realized Utau had been calling his name for some time now. He
tore his eyes from the road to look at her—taking in the concern etched on her
pale face though he had been certain he hadn’t been driving erratically. “What
is it?” he asked her softly.
Her violet eyes darted back.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that Amu was quietly weeping.
“What happened?” he asked Utau.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I was just getting to know her—asking the
standard questions and all. I asked her if she had any siblings and she just
started crying.”
Ikuto reached over Utau’s legs to open the glove compartment and took out a box
of tissues. The box bore the name of the funeral parlor where Souko’s funeral
had been held and Utau’s eyes began to fill with tears. Ikuto knew he should
have thrown the box away, but there were still tissues in it and each time he
tried, he found himself unable to. Kazuomi had taken all the pictures of Souko
from them. This box of tissues was a small reminder that she had in fact
existed. Ikuto didn’t want to erase this small silly trace by throwing the box
away.
Utau sniffled, pulled herself together, and reached back over the seat to hand
Amu a tissue. “Hey now, Amu,” she said gently, her own voice cracking no matter
how hard she tried to keep herself under control. “Don’t cry.”
Ikuto glanced at Utau, watching as she matured before his eyes. Amu was crying
so brokenly, her tears washing the makeup off her face to reveal bruises and
cuts. Clearly, she had lost someone precious to her and the wound was still
fresh, raw, and aching, just as the loss of their mother was.
He swallowed the stone in his throat, cleared his voice, and said to both
girls, “I think we need milkshakes and a little laughter. What do you say?”
Utau’s eyes were red-rimmed already, but she forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah.
That sounds great, Ikuto.”
He offered her a small smile. “The usual place?”
She nodded.
In the backseat, Amu mopped at her face, scraping herself together. She stared
at Ikuto and Utau, watching as he reached across to squeeze his sister’s small
hand comfortingly. Ikuto was unspeakably gentle with Utau and Amu didn’t
understand why he had felt the need to threaten her over his secret—even though
he wasn’t gay. She didn’t understand him at all, but then again, she hardly
understood herself. She had no idea who she was. She had no idea what kind of
person was left under the shell created upon Ami’s death, but… for the first
time in a long time, Amu found herself wanting to know. She wanted to know more
about herself and… more about Ikuto.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
You know you want to… so—review!
***** The Planetarium *****
Everyone watch me in this chapter. I’m concern I might write “Tsubasa” instead
of “Tsukasa” just because I’ve been reading Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle. But
I’m going to proofread very, very carefully so that doesn’t happen. Even so…
watch me, everyone. Watch for errors!
                                     X X X
The city they lived in was rather small, possessing only three movie theaters,
and divided by lines in the sand. The suburbs surrounding the city were quaint
and a perfect place to raise a bouncing family. But it was in no way a small
country town. There was a pulsing metropolis of commercial office buildings
uptown—where Hoshina Kazuomi’s Easter Corporation was situated between the
other corporate drones—and claimed a lot of strange futuristic art on each
street corner.
Downtown, much of the city was frozen in time with such fairytale places as Fai
D Flourite’s Cat’s Eye bookshop-café, a restored grand old movie palace, the
fantastic Peter Pan Diner (1), and a planetarium turned comedy-club-and-small-
eatery. The planetarium was the usual place, but it was incredibly unknown. Not
very many people knew it existed and even fewer went there. Maybe it was
because the sign outside was old and worn and simply read, ‘Planetarium’ or
maybe it was because… only people who were lost or in need of help seemed to
ever find their way there.
Maybe that was testimony to why Ikuto had discovered it one day and hadn’t been
able to drag himself away from its comfort since.
The planetarium was owned by Seiyo Academy’s principal, Amakawa Tsukasa (2),
who worked there part time before and after school and on weekends. He was
perhaps the kindest man on the face of the planet, if not just a little bit
strange. No adult should be so excitable and childish, but he was a wonderful
person.
Ikuto pulled the dark Jaguar into the parking lot of the planetarium and was
surprised to see a bicycle at the bike rack beside Tsukasa’s car. The trio
piled out of the Jag and stood in the parking lot a moment under the funnel of
warm amber light from the street lamp. The morning was still deep and dark,
just reaching six o’clock, and rather cool. The girls shivered as the cool
breeze touched their exposed thighs. Ikuto, wearing pants and a long-sleeved
shirt, was comfortable, but he quickly gathered up both girls and guided them
into the planetarium.
The lights of the stars were glowing overhead, the rest of the place dimly lit
with pale blue lamps. Sitting at the long bar were two blonde teens, a boy with
short hair and a younger girl with waist-length hair that fell in waves. Ikuto
didn’t recognize them. Vanilla milkshakes heaped with whipped cream lay
forgotten at both their elbows, forming a small ring of condensation on the
bar. Something more pressing and far more interesting was sitting on the low
bar—a box of kittens—that required their full attention.
Tsukasa looked up when Ikuto, Utau, and Amu entered. He immediately smiled and
gestured them over to the bar. “How are you doing, Ikuto, Utau? Holding up
well?” Both of them glanced away. “And who is this?” he asked, his violet eyes
lit with starlight as he turned to the rosette-haired girl he hadn’t seen
before.
“I’m Amu,” she offered softly.
He reached out and gently squeezed her hand, meeting her eyes. Then, as if she
was the only person in the world who existed and mattered, he said, “Welcome.”
Amu stared into his eyes and felt everything bad in her life just melt away.
Her lips curved faintly into a soft smile and she squeezed Tsukasa’s hand in
return. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said honestly.
He smiled the most beautiful smile and then turned to Ikuto and Utau. He held
Utau’s hand a moment, speaking softly to her in the same way he had spoken to
Amu. Oddly, he didn’t try to reach for Ikuto’s hand. Maybe it was because Ikuto
was a boy, but… Amu had a feeling Tsukasa was this comfortable and touchy-feely
with everyone. So why was Ikuto an exception?
“Look what I found,” Tsukasa said cheerfully and swept the trio towards the bar
where the two blonde teens were still sitting.
“You didn’t find us,” the girl said almost sharply. “We’re not strays.”
Tsukasa smiled at her and she looked away as if ashamed by her rude and rash
statement.
The boy chuckled softly, cuddling a white kitten under his chin. “Someone just
left them in front of the planetarium,” he said by way of explanation.
Utau and Amu both immediately cooed, peering into the box. There was a whole
litter of kittens in all colors with bright blue eyes. They were still rather
young, probably having been just weaned away from their mother. To hear that
someone had just abandoned them… how horrible were people? That thought made
Amu sad as she gently stroked a kitten’s soft head. The little creature purred
and mewled, nuzzling her fingertips. Nothing this innocent and adorable
deserved to be treated that way.
“It’s awfully early for so many children to be out and about,” Tsukasa said as
he went behind the bar and started making chocolate milkshakes. “What brings
you all out this early in the day?”
No one answered. In fact, all of them looked down at either their shoes or the
kitten they happened to be cuddling. Surprisingly, Tsukasa didn’t pry or grill
them for information as most adults did. Instead, he filled three tall glasses
with chocolate milkshakes, heaped on whipped cream, added a cherry on top, and
passed them to Utau, Ikuto, and Amu. Then, he pulled a small baggy of dried
sardines from his pocket and held them out to the kitten the blonde boy was
holding. Eagerly, the kitten pawed his way into Tsukasa’s hands.
With a sigh, the boy took a sip of his vanilla milkshake, lifted another kitten
from the box, and cuddled it close. He was a truly handsome boy with pale
blonde hair and eyes the color of richly polished mahogany. His face was open
and honest with wide-set eyes and an easy smile. But there was something about
him that spoke of power and control, as if he had descended from royalty, but
he didn’t appear to be the kind of person to ever abuse that power. He also
appeared younger than he must have really been—innocent and small—though Amu
wasn’t sure what made her think that of him.
“I’m Tadase,” he said to Ikuto, Utau, and Amu.
Immediately, Amu wanted to trust him and smiled in return.
“I think I might have seen you before.” Tadase continued. “Do you go to Seiyo
Academy?”
Awkward silence spread between the four of them. They all looked at each other,
easily recognizing Seiyo’s uniforms which they all wore. Even at a glance, it
was clear they all went to the same school. Tsukasa, who was the principal of
Seiyo, chuckled softly.
Tadase laughed softly, smacking his forehead lightly. “Duh,” he said, his
cheeks going pale pink with embarrassment. “I’m such a dork.”
Amu smiled, giggling a little. “I’m Amu.”
Tadase nodded to her, smiling. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Utau and this is my brother, Ikuto.”
“Yo,” Ikuto offered.
A moment of silence stretched between them as all eyes, even Tsukasa’s, turned
to the blonde girl. She sipped her milkshake and pretended not to notice. Amu
would have thought she was cold-hearted if not for the way she stroked the
sleeping kitten in her lap. Finally, Tsukasa cleared his throat, reached across
the bar, and subtracted the milkshake from the girl’s clenched hands. She
sighed heavily, sliding him an inscrutable look.
“I’m Mashiro Rima,” she said and turned to face them. She was lovely as well,
but somehow old-fashioned and elegant, like an English lady left behind by the
turn of the century. She was very small, petite, with small feet and hands and
large eyes by contrast. Her wavy blonde hair was so long it seemed as if she
would disappear within it. Oddly enough, the posture of her body spoke that she
wanted it that way. She wanted to be able to disappear within herself at a
moment’s notice. She glowered at Tsukasa. “Are you happy?”
“Yes,” he said and passed back the milkshake.
Indignantly, Rima sipped it.
Tsukasa chuckled again, softly, as if to a private joke.
Rima flushed, sipping noisily, and turned her back on the others.
“Don’t mind her,” Tadase told them and smiled. “She’s just upset about the
kittens.”
Rima snorted and Amu had the feeling that wasn’t the case.
Tadase laughed uneasily, scratching the back of his head.
…
Shaking his head at their antics, Ikuto sat down on a barstool a little ways
from the happy cluster. Though he had escaped Kazuomi that morning, he had a
feeling it was going to be very bad for him when Kazuomi finally caught and
raped him. It had been almost two days since Kazuomi had last violated him and
that was sure to piss the volatile man off. Ikuto shivered and it wasn’t from
the delicious chill of the chocolate milkshake.
Tsukasa, cradling a deep night-colored kitten beneath his chin, came to sit
beside Ikuto. “So…” was all he said.
Ikuto didn’t respond.
Tsukasa sighed, gently laying his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You know I’m
here for you right?”
Ikuto nodded.
“And you know I’d help you just as soon as you needed it?”
He nodded again.
“Ikuto—”
“I’m alright, Tsukasa,” he said firmly. “I’m just… tired.”
Tsukasa was silent.
“It’s tiring going to school and working and…” he trailed off.
“If you need me,” Tsukasa murmured.
“I know,” Ikuto said.
The older man rose from his seat, tickling the kitten’s belly.
“And Tsukasa?” Ikuto said suddenly.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you,” he murmured.
Tsukasa lifted Ikuto’s cold hands from the milkshake glass and tucked the
little kitten into them. Immediately, Ikuto cradled the kitten in his hands to
his chest, a soft smile curving his lips. Tsukasa patted him on the back
gently, more like rubbing comfortingly. “Let yourself live a little bit, Ikuto.
Even if it’s not a lot—let yourself love something, even just a little bit.
Everyone needs a little love in their life.”
Ikuto was silent, gazing at the kitten.
“Why don’t you give him a name?” Tsukasa offered.
Ikuto handed him the kitten back. “You name him, Tsukasa. He’s your kitten.”
And with that, Ikuto barricaded himself behind the iron wall that he had built
around his heart and soul to protect what was left of him. Tsukasa could chip
away at it for hours if he so desired, but nothing would persuade Ikuto to come
out from behind the protective safety of that shell.
…
Utau watched her brother and Tsukasa from the corner of her violet eyes, her
heart breaking just a little as she watched. Ikuto was so sweet, so tender,
cuddling that little kitten to himself and smiling softly. He loved cats, loved
kittens. When they had been children, Ikuto had had a cat named Yoru and he had
loved that cat like it was a part of him. Then, shortly after their father
died, Yoru died, following the man to heaven. Not long after, Souko died and
Ikuto hadn’t had a cat since.
Utau stared into her milkshake. How she wished she could do even something
little like that to make her brother happy, but she feared Kazuomi would hurt
such an innocent vulnerable little creature. She knew Ikuto would fear that
even more and if their step-father did kill a kitten, some remaining part of
Ikuto’s heart would break off and shatter. Abruptly, she saw Ikuto hand the
kitten back to Tsukasa, his expression hiding behind a mask.
Tears burned in her throat, but she swallowed them. Instead, when Tsukasa
handed her the little kitten Ikuto had pushed away, she cuddled it gratefully.
It mewled, bright blue eyes going to Ikuto. Wordlessly, Utau got up from her
perch on the barstool, crossed the small space to where Ikuto was sitting, and
held out the kitten to him.
“I don’t want it,” he said firmly, coldly.
Wordlessly, she remained standing there, hands outstretched and holding the
kitten cupped in her hands.
“Utau, I don’t want it.”
She didn’t budge from that spot, even though his voice was like ice.
Finally, with a sigh, Ikuto held out his hands and Utau slipped the little
kitten into them. For a moment, Ikuto tried to prove to her that he really
didn’t want to hold the kitten, but kittens could melt anyone’s cold heart.
Within a few moments, Ikuto had cuddled the little creature to his chest and
was smiling softly, happily.
Utau looked up and saw Tsukasa gazing at them. She mouthed, ‘Thank you,’ to
him.
But he only smiled mysteriously, picked up his keys, and called, “Alright,
gang. It’s time to get to school.”
Utau and Tadase groaned loudly.
“No excuses!” Tsukasa told them firmly, sternly in his scolding ‘principal’
voice. Then, he ushered everyone out into the parking lot. He returned to the
planetarium to lock up and collect the box of kittens from the counter,
sweeping the milkshake glasses into the large sink with a careful clatter since
they were glass. “Alright, ready to go?” he called.
Outside, the children all stood together, looking up at the sky as if expecting
something to come down from it.
On the distant horizon, dawn had broken into a warm and bright day. The birds
were singing, the flowers’ fragrance had scented the air, and the grass was
dewed beautifully. It was like something out of a fairytale, something so
beautiful that words could not express… It looked wonderful, it looked
promising, and it looked like heaven on earth. But hopefully, heaven would not
be coming for these kids anytime soon. Hopefully, the beautiful day was not a
premonition of things to come.
                                     X X X
(1) The Peter Pan Diner is the diner run by Roxas in my story, Lilet Never
Happened. I feel like CLAMP! I have my own little story universe where
characters and places crossover.
(2) Tsukasa is kind of a strange character because he’s like… Tadase from the
future. But I looked in the wiki for Shugo Chara and apparently, the real
Tsukasa is Tadase’s uncle which is why they look similar, and the one that was
with Amu on the Path of Stars isn’t Tsukasa at all, but Tadase from the future.
So… that’s what I’m going with. There will be no time travel in this story!
Questions, comments, concerns?
Reviews are awesome!
***** Beginning Their Portraits *****
Ruby: For when you eventually reach this chapter… If you’re not sure where
Ikuto’s “entrance” (or technically exit) is, I think this story might be to
mature for you.
I was watching that episode of Shugo Chara where you see Ikuto as a little kid
growing up with Tadase and I must say… he’s so freaking cute! But could his
shorts possibly get any shorter…? I mean, really.
                                     X X X
Tsukasa carried the box of kittens up to his office, attracting a few strange
glances from the teachers he passed in the hallways. But he was the principal
and therefore beyond reproach. He could do whatever he wanted since it was his
school, even if that meant he bringing kittens into his office. Hell, he could
bring a dinosaur into his office and no one would be able to say anything until
the dino ate someone. With a sigh, he opened the door to his office, kicked it
shut behind him, and set the mewling box of kittens down on the desk.
Leaving them in the confines of the box, he went to the window and looked out
over the grounds of Seiyo Academy. The bell hadn’t rung yet and students were
milling everywhere, laughing and chattering, without a care in the world. He
scanned the happy students, seeking out those he liked to watch over, but—as
usual—they had hidden themselves in the safety of shadows and anonymity as all
frightened and defensive children did. It was the equivalent of pulling the
covers up over their heads and trying to pretend the monsters didn’t exist.
Tsukasa’s main concerns were always the children that arrived at the
Planetarium.
And now, he also watched over his young nephew.
Hotori Tadase’s parents had recently been killed in a car accident and the teen
had been sent to live with his only living relative—Tsukasa, his uncle a few
times removed. Tsukasa was incredibly worried about how the boy was going to
handle the loss. It was difficult to lose your parents when you were in your
forties and Tadase was barely thirteen. He hadn’t even seen the boy cry—Tadase
just went through the day, head bowed, eyes red-rimmed and dark, looking as if
the entire world was nothing like ash to him. And then, when he was in public,
he acted as if absolutely nothing was wrong.
Second on his list was Mashiro Rima. Her parents were going through a nasty
divorce—not that Rima had told Tsukasa that, but he had gleaned it from the
context of her conversations and the way she spoke about them. She had found
her way to the Planetarium when she heard it occasionally hosted comedians. She
loved comedy, not that she had told Tsukasa that either. She was a very closed
person, untrusting, suspicious, and could be bitingly cruel to protect herself
from other people.
Tsukasa sighed heavily, dragging his hand through his pale hair.
Why was the world so cruel to its children?
His mind turned to thoughts of Ikuto and little Utau. How long ago had it been
then Ikuto, as a young ten-year-old child, had stumbled into the Planetarium on
a dark night? His pale little face had been streaked with dirt and tears, his
eyes red-rimmed, his teeth clenched together to keep something from escaping
his lips. For a moment, he had just stood there among the stars, looking around
in awe. Wordlessly, Tsukasa had given him a chocolate milkshake and a seat and
hadn’t asked him any questions.
Tsukasa’s mother had always said, ‘Ask me no questions that I don’t want to
answer and I shall tell you no lies.’ On that night, Tsukasa had sensed that
anything he asked Ikuto would gain him a practiced lie. So, he had let silence
reign between them.
The only thing he said—as Ikuto got up to leave when a Mercedes passed the
Planetarium on the street, rolling by slowly as if in search of something—was,
‘If… when… you need someone…’
Ikuto had hesitated in the threshold of the night, looking back over his
shoulder. He didn’t say anything in return, simply fled into the darkness.
Tsukasa didn’t think he’d ever see Ikuto again, but a few weeks later, Ikuto
came back. At his side, clutching his small hand, was a beautiful little girl
who Tsukasa learned was Utau. After that, Ikuto made the Planetarium his usual
place. Whenever something happened and he didn’t have to be at work, he came to
Tsukasa, even if he never said that anything was wrong.
Tsukasa gazed out the window.
Suddenly, the starting bell rang loudly, echoing down the empty halls of the
school. Outside, the happy students all hustled into the school, their laughter
fading as real world set in on their day. Tsukasa was certain there were plenty
of children who wished their only problem was school.
…
Amu wasn’t sure how to act around Ikuto now. Honestly, were they friends or
enemies or something in the middle? She glanced at him in their shared art
class, listening to Yaya with half an ear and occasionally peeking at Saaya
(who was slinking around like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar).
Every so often, Ikuto lifted his head to slide Saaya a fierce glare and Amu had
a feeling he was secretly enjoying the fact that the redhead ducked her head,
ashamed, under his glower. But what was Amu supposed to think of that also?
Was Ikuto glaring at Saaya to help Amu? After glaring at the older girl, he
always spared Amu a quick glance, as if making sure she saw that he was
defending her. Maybe he was sort of protecting her—after all, Ikuto went
through school as if in another dimension, unbothered by anyone, and Amu was
the world’s whipping girl. (1) If people saw that Ikuto had taken Amu under his
wing, Saaya and everyone else who troubled her would leave her alone.
Ikuto’s wine-dark blue eyes met Amu’s for a moment before the girl quickly
looked away, gnawing her lower lip.
“Amu!” Yaya barked suddenly. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’m saying!”
“S-sorry,” Amu murmured, turning her attention quickly to her friend.
Yaya opened her mouth to speak, but the art teacher broke in.
She clapped her hands to get the class’s attention and smiled at them all.
“Alright, artists, today we’re going to start portraits of the people in our
class. To keep it orderly, you’re going to draw someone who sits at your table
with you. Alright? So, partner up or I’ll pick for you. Chop, chop, everyone!
Chatter filled the room along with some grumbling. Portraits were not the
easiest thing to draw and to draw someone in your class… ugh, what if it looked
nothing like the person?
Yaya opened her mouth again, but now Saaya interrupted her.
“Yaya,” the redhead said pleadingly. “You have to be my partner.”
Amu’s heart leaped into her throat. If Saaya partnered with Yaya, then the only
other person at the table and therefore Amu’s partner by default was… Tsukiyomi
“I won’t answer to Hoshina” Ikuto. Her heart beat raggedly her mouth going dry
at the thought. First of all, there was no way she could draw Ikuto in his full
beauty. And second—Ikuto glanced at Amu, his dark gaze inscrutable and strange.
Yaya stuck her tongue out. “No way,” she said. “Draw Ikuto. I want to draw
Amu!”
Saaya glanced at Ikuto, but he glared at her fiercely. She turned back to Yaya,
pleading in earnest now. “Please, Yaya!”
Oddly enough, Yaya must have understood some of the other girl’s desperation
because she turned to Amu and asked, “Will you be alright drawing Ikuto?”
Amu opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Amu?” Yaya asked.
Ikuto put in, “We’ll be fine, Yaya. Go ahead with Saaya.” Then, he stood up,
gathering his sketchpad and supplies under his arm and crossing around the
table to switch seats with Yaya. It was easier to draw the person’s portrait if
you were sitting right next to them—profiles were the best way to determine the
shape of the nose, proportions of the features, and contour of the eyelashes.
He slid into Yaya’s seat, close enough that Amu could feel the waves of heat
rolling off his lean body.
Yaya did the same, circling the long table and seating herself on Ikuto’s
still-warm stool beside Saaya. The two girls immediately set to work, chatting
softly. Occasionally, nervously, Saaya glanced up at Ikuto, met his glare, and
looked quickly away. Yaya was oblivious to this small exchange, chattering on
happily.
Amu wished she could be so blind.
She glanced at Ikuto, found that he was gazing at her, and quickly looked away.
Her hands trembled as she turned to a new blank page in her sketchbook. How was
she supposed to draw this beautiful dangerous hurt strange alien creature
before her? She could never do him justice—not in a million years. She
sharpened her pencil restlessly, grinding it down, down, down, so she wouldn’t
have to begin to sketch his face.
“That’s going to be nothing but a nub if you don’t stop sharpening it,” Ikuto
said suddenly.
Amu jolted, the sharp pencil flying from her hands and clattering on the stool.
She stared at him, golden eyes wide.
Smoothly, Ikuto leaned down, but Amu saw a small wince flash across his pale
face. Was he in pain, some injury lurking hidden beneath his school uniform? He
picked the pencil up from the floor, laid it down beside Amu’s paper, and
picked up his own, absently beginning to sketch in silence.
Amu whispered, “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” he asked.
“This,” she insisted.
“I don’t want to draw Saaya or Yaya,” he said plainly.
“But,” she whispered, but was unable to think of anything else to say. After a
long moment of silence, she asked, “Why draw me?”
Ikuto rolled his shoulders. “Why not?”
Amu stared at him, unsure of what to say. She didn’t really have a reason.
Silently, she turned her attention back to her empty paper, but couldn’t find
the courage to try to draw Ikuto’s beautiful face. Sheepishly, she glanced at
his profile, captivated by his deep wine-dark blue eyes. He had such long eye
lashes, curly and casting small shadows on his pale face. Amu cautiously
sketched the almond shape of his eye, added his long eyelashes, shadowed in his
beautiful blue eyes. Then, she drew his eye from the side, also straight on.
She moved the light in his eyes until it appeared as if he was looking out at
her from the paper.
Then, she glanced at him again. His profile was a little sad, noble, handsome,
also oddly old-fashioned with the light shining on his face. She studied him
softly for a moment since he was working on his own sketch of her and didn’t
look up. His eyebrows were thin, drawn together in the middle in concentration
or frustration. She also noticed there were deep bruise-like shadows beneath
his blue eyes and they were slightly red-rimmed as if he hadn’t been sleeping.
She added these small detailed to the floating eyes on her paper.
Ikuto’s eyes, even without the rest of his face, stared up at her from the
paper.
She smiled softly, proud of herself. If she took it slow, drew his features one
thing at a time—she’d be able to draw him even with her minimal skills. She
glanced up at him, lips curved in a small smile, and Ikuto’s eyes slid over to
her. When she held his gaze, continuing to smile, he seemed shocked and quickly
looked away. Amu giggled a little.
Suddenly, Ikuto picked up the eraser and erased everything he had drawn. Then,
he started again.
In silence that wasn’t quite companionable, they began their portraits of each
other. Across the table from them, Yaya chattered on and on endlessly. Saaya
didn’t even seem to be listening to her—she was drawing quickly with long
jagged strokes and a lot of erasing. But at least she was working, Yaya wasn’t
drawing at all. Turning her own gaze to her paper, Amu gazed into the eyes she
had drawn, smiling. Ikuto drew a line, erased it, tried again, erased that, and
sighed in frustration. Before they both knew it, class was drawing to a close.
“Can I see what you drew?” Amu asked Ikuto softly as they packed up their
supplies.
He jerked away from her sharply. “No!”
She shied away. “Okay…”
Ikuto realized he had snapped at her for no reason. He was simply defensive of
his nonexistent art skill. The face he had drawn looked more like a jack-o-
lantern than Amu’s pretty pale features. He was ashamed to show her. Before he
could even try to explain, the bell rang and Amu fled the room and Ikuto
realized he had screwed up again.
                                     X X X
(1) Trivia: Whipping boys (or in this case girl) are people who take the blame,
the punishment, and the fall when other people do wrong (usually royalty). It
suits Amu rather well, yes? I suppose is kind of fits Ikuto too, when he’s at
home at least.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Reviews rock!
***** Friday Night: the Basement & the Mirror *****
Who missed me? I posted those notices about Black Out Day in my Lemon Series
and Fanfiction didn’t appreciate it. They froze my account for three whole
days.
You know, I always write Kingdom Hearts fanfiction and there Kairi is a girl’s
name. In Shugo Chara, it belongs to a manly samurai guy. Like… weird! I’d
better be careful…
                                     X X X
Hinamori Amu took the bus home. In a state of frenzy, she scrubbed the kitchen
floor, washed the windows, and scoured the sink. The kitchen shone like
something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, beautiful, perfect. Amu
took some peppers, onions, and pork from the fridge. Neatly, she chopped and
cubed them all before depositing them in a heated skillet. On a back burner,
she cooked some white sticky rice and left everything to simmer while she went
upstairs to change out of the uniform she had borrowed from Utau.
The teen idol’s uniform was a little too big for Amu and she didn’t know what
her parents would do when they saw it. It was a girl’s uniform, but it wasn’t
Amu’s. Having friends was something Ami would do and therefore, Amu was not
allowed. Amu stuffed the uniform first into a bag and then buried it at the
bottom of her backpack, safely out of sight. She changed into some jeans and a
t-shirt, scraped her rosy hair into a ponytail, and hurried back downstairs to
check on dinner.
She heated some oil, dumped the rice into the wok, and started frying it. Once
the rice was hot and beginning to brown, she added the vegetables and pork,
mixing it well and adding some spices. Within a few minutes, she had a hot dish
of fried rice on the table and she heard the garage door roll up right on time.
Midori and Tsumugu entered the house, laughing and chatting.
Amu smiled thinly, hoping that everything would be alright. Her hopes were in
vain.
The moment her parents eyes fell on her, she wanted to run. She wanted to run
far and fast. She suddenly felt like a mouse caught in the eyes of a hungry
cat, like a fly tangled in a spider’s web and the spider was coming, like a
small child as the closet door swung open in the darkness. Her heart
thundered—she was afraid.
“H-hi Mom, Dad,” she whispered.
But they didn’t move towards her nor did they threaten her. Silently, they both
sat down at the table and let Amu dish out dinner. Shuddering, she sat down in
her usual place, eyes glued to her plate. What was going to happen? What were
they going to do to her? Her hands shook as she tried to eat.
“Amu,” Midori said suddenly, coldly. “Stop shaking.”
Amu bit her lip and did try, but she couldn’t. The fear made her blood like ice
in her veins. Her teeth started to chatter so she clenched them tightly
together to try to hide it. She couldn’t stop shaking though and finally put
her fork down, clenching her hands in her lap.
Her parents ate silently.
Amu couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe, just shivered.
Finally, they finished dinner and pushed their plates away. Amu rose to clear
the table, but as she reached for her father’s plate, his hard fingers closed
around her wrist. She cried out in shock and fear, her heart leaping into her
throat and choking her.
“Where were you last night, Amu?” Tsumugu hissed out.
“I-I-I-I-I—” Amu’s teeth chattered and made it impossible for her to speak.
He shook her viciously. “Out with it!”
“I st-stayed w-with a f-friend,” she stuttered.
“What friend? That boy?”
“Nagihiko and Nadeshiko?” Amu whispered.
Tsumugu slapped her, hard. Her teeth came down on her tongue and blood filled
her mouth, dripping from the corner of her lips. She yelped in terror and tried
to scramble away. After the last beating when her face had been cut by the
glass of the broken wineglass, Amu didn’t want to be hurt that badly again. But
Tsumugu didn’t let her go. His fingers dug into her flesh, his short nails
breaking the skin. Midori sat there, silent, watching, her eyes gleaming.
“Mom,” Amu whimpered.
Tsumugu slapped her again.
“I-I-I—”
He slapped her, once, twice. “What friend?”
“S-someone from s-school,” she whispered.
“Who?”
Amu’s heart thundered.
“You were gone all night, you little slut!”
“I-I-I-I—”
“You what?”
Amu stared into her father’s face, terror in her eyes. “Please, I…”
He threw her to the cold floor, her chin knocking painfully into the corner of
the table on the way down. He slammed his foot into her stomach and what little
she had eaten threatened to show itself again. Amu whimpered, swallowing back
her pain. He kicked her again, then fisted his hand in her rose-colored hair.
He dragged her to her feet and brought her to the basement door.
Amu wanted to scream, but couldn’t.
Tsumugu opened the door, darkness spilling out. Then, without a word, he threw
Amu down the cold concrete steps. Her body cracked painfully on each, her arm
catching an bending strangely. Something cracked and white-hot pain flooded
Amu’s entire body. She screamed, but it was choked off as her thin body crashed
into the wall at the bottom. Panting in agony, she looked up the stairs at her
father. He was silhouetted in the light, his shadow creeping down at her.
“Dad,” she whispered, pain in her voice.
But Tsumugu closed the door.
There were no lights in the basement, only spiders and dust and cold concrete
and Amu’s dried blood. They only threw her in here when she was really bad,
when she was completely deserving of punishment and pain and suffering. Alone
in the darkness, Amu cradled her arm, feeling something poking through her
skin—bone, maybe. She whimpered, tears burning in her eyes and throat. What had
she done wrong this time? But she knew—she had stayed out all night, she hadn’t
come home. Her parents must have been worried about her and Ami would never
have made them worry like this.
Something scurried in the darkness, maybe a rat. Amu shuddered, her teeth
chattering freely.
The worst thing was…
It was Friday night.
There was no school tomorrow.
No one would miss her for two days.
She hated the basement. It was the worst punishment. Her broken arm throbbed,
her mouth tasted of blood, and it was only just beginning. In the darkness, the
rat scurried again and Amu sobbed helplessly. She prayed to a God that had
never listened, she prayed to Ami, she prayed to the sun. But no one got off
the cross, no ghost appeared, no one came to save her. All the benevolent gods
in heaven and earth knew she deserved every pain she received. Deep down, they
knew Amu was a bad person.
Wasn’t she?
…
Sanjo Kairi glared at the papers spread before him on the coffee table.
Sometimes, he thought he took on far too much responsibility for someone his
age. He took on a lot at home because he lived with his sister and she was
always working. He took on a lot at school because he was an honor student with
straight A’s and perfect attendance. Then, on top of everything, he was class
president. And the responsibilities of being class president were what were
weighing on him particularly hard at that point in time. So, being as organized
as he was, he made himself a list of priorities.
Number one: make dinner so that he and Yukari could eat together when she
finally dragged herself home.
On the kitchen counter, simmering away happily, was a pot of red marinara
sauce. Sliced and sautéed with onions and green peppers were several sausages
on the back burner. On the front burner, filled with salt and water, and simply
waiting to be turned on to cook was a pot for spaghetti. The small apartment
smelled heavenly.
So, task number one was complete.
Second: homework. He had done all that during study hall in school.
Third and giving him the most trouble: think of a fundraiser for the students
to organize next month. It had to be something big, something attractive,
something cool. The soccer team needed new equipment and the art teacher wanted
to buy some clay for a craft project. They needed something big, something that
would draw a lot of participants and a lot of dough. This was a small town so
anything should really get the population’s attention, so why was this so hard?
He chewed the end of his pencil, reminded himself that it was bad for his
teeth, and stopped.
A car wash, maybe? That was practical and easy to pull off, but… No, then all
the cheerleaders would show up in bikinis and the football players and nerds
would get nothing done while they were busy staring.
How about something sports related? But, no, what was the point of that? It
wouldn’t draw in anyone nor would it get anyone’s attention. That would be a
flop.
Kairi groaned and banged his head down on the table, sighing and grumbling to
himself. Why did he have to think of this anyway? Wasn’t this was teachers,
principals, and fellow students were for? It shouldn’t have just been his job
to brainstorm. He wrote several ideas down on a piece of paper, stared at them,
then glared at them, and scratched them all out. Still grumpy, he glowered at
the paper as if it was the reason he couldn’t think of anything.
The lock in the front door tumbled and Yukari entered, looking worn-out as if
the weight of her purse would drill her into her ground. “Hey Kairi,” she
called. “I’m home. It smells great in here.”
Kairi eagerly tossed aside his work and rushed to her side, taking her purse
and keys. “How was work?” he asked.
She sighed heavily. “Utau is so talented, but she was totally out of it
tonight. She kept forgetting the lyrics.”
“Did you find out what was bothering her?”
Yukari shook her head. “She wouldn’t tell me anything.” She sensed that
something was bothering Kairi so she turned her face her little brother. He was
still in high school yet so mature for his age. She put her hands on his
shoulders, smiling at him. “How was your day, Kairi?”
Immediately, her hunch proved correct and his problems all came pouring out
like air from a punctured balloon. Yukari listened patiently, nodding and
asking small questions. Within a few minutes, Kairi had finished and gasped in
a breath. His cheeks tinged pink as he realized how long he had been
complaining to his sister. Ever mature, he looked about to apologize, but she
cut him off.
“What about a little carnival?” she suggested for the fundraiser. “It would
give you plenty to work with.”
Kairi stared at her, stunned, and then beamed. “That’s brilliant! Thanks sis!”
Yukari smiled, watching him as he darted back to the coffee table and began to
scribble things down in a fury. Kairi was so independent, so adult, that there
often wasn’t anything Yukari could do to help him. In fact, most of the time
she felt that he was the one taking care of her. So, she lived for those little
moments where she could help him and see him smile that bright grateful
worshipping smile. All people loved to feel needed and loved and adults were no
exception.
“I’ll serve dinner in just a minute,” Kairi said over his shoulder. “I just
want to write this down. Or maybe you could take a quick shower to relax you
and dinner will be ready to eat by then.”
Yukari sat down on the couch beside him, glancing at the slew of papers on the
coffee table. A lot of ideas had been scratched out and erased so Kairi must
have been really troubled by this fundraiser. She smiled softly. “I’m alright.
Just take your time,” she said to him.
Kairi nodded, continuing to talk as he worked.
Yukari’s thoughts turned to Utau. What if she was able to help Utau and Ikuto
the way she helped Kairi? Would Utau smile at her like this? Would Ikuto ever
smile at all? But Yukari had a feeling there was nothing she could do to help
those two children. They were too proud to ever ask for help. They were two
children completely out of reach of any adult, except maybe their step-father.
She sighed heavily, reclining against the couch. If only there was something
she could do to help them like she helped Kairi.
…
Tsukiyomi Ikuto dropped Utau off at Easter’s studio after school and went home
to sleep for a few hours before he had to leave for work later that night. Most
kids his age went out on Friday nights, out on dates and to the movies, but
Ikuto worked. He always worked. He needed to work. He needed the money. He
needed to protect Utau, to get them both out of this place as soon as he turned
eighteen, to find some sanctuary in his living hell.
He entered the house, pleased to find it quiet and empty. For now, he was safe.
He grabbed his pajamas from his bedroom and ducked into the bathroom. He tried
to avoid looking at his reflection in the mirror, to avoid seeing the bruises
shaped like hands on his hips and wrists and ankles. He didn’t want to see the
marks on his body that made him used. Neither did he want to see the
attractiveness in his features. He wanted to be a ghost, pale and translucent,
and he was at least halfway there.
Maybe, if no one could see him, no one would hurt him.
But that was a silly thought.
Ikuto started the hot water, stripped out of his clothes, and hurried into the
shower. He scrubbed his skin raw and ragged, until his hands and feet bled,
until he thought he pain would take him away. Then, he washed his hair, the
shampoo burning the open cuts. Blood swirled away down the drain. He wished all
his problems would follow the water, would swirl away and vanish.
But then he thought of that urban legend about alligators that people flushed
down the toilets. In the sewers, they grew into giant monsters and wreaked
havoc on civilized life. With his luck, the same things would happen to his
problems until they came back large enough to devour him whole. So, maybe it
was best that he just kept his problems to himself.
Ikuto stared at his bloody hands, bruises like bracelets circling his thin
wrists, and then laughed at himself. His voice echoed off the tiles and the
walls, made strange by the sound of the water. Unnerved, Ikuto shut off the
water, pulled back the curtain, and stepped out. He reached for his towel,
momentarily blinded by the swirling steam.
Then, suddenly, sharply, a hand closed around his wrist.
Ikuto wanted to scream. He wanted to run far and fast, he wanted to lock
himself away. But the truth of the matter was—if he ran, Utau would be left
behind and this would happen to her. He didn’t want this to happen to her, but
that didn’t mean he wanted it to happen to him. But there was no escape for
him. He was a little fly caught in a web.
Kazuomi smiled at him through the steam, all white teeth.
Ikuto’s body went cold, goose bumps breaking out despite the heat of the small
bathroom.
Teasingly, Kazuomi waved a tube of lubricant in front of Ikuto’s face as if
that would make it better, make it hurt less.
Ikuto shivered, trembled, clenched his jaw and his hands to keep them from
shaking.
Kazuomi was already naked, his shoulders glistening with steamy moisture. His
erection was frightening, thick and long, and Ikuto quickly looked away,
wishing he could wrap himself within the shelter of a towel. His step-father
pulled him in front of the mirror, grabbed his chin, and made him look.
“You’re beautiful,” Kazuomi said, his hot tongue touching the shell of Ikuto’s
ear.
Ikuto shuddered, squirming.
That only aroused Kazuomi more. He thrust against Ikuto’s backside, his cock
rubbing against the boy’s soft wet skin. He groaned in pleasure, but Ikuto
thought he’d be sick. He grabbed the vanity, gripping it like a lifeline,
holding on tightly. Kazuomi pushed him flush against it, the cold porcelain
biting into Ikuto’s bruised hips.
Then, lube-slick fingers found Ikuto’s entrance and one digit pushed in. The
angle was strange and Ikuto squirmed, a small sound escaping his lips. Too
quickly, Kazuomi added a second finger and then a third. He stretched Ikuto’s
small body too hard and too fast.
Then, his erection was there, pressing and filling. Ikuto cried out softly, his
back arching in pain. Why did it hurt so much? Kazuomi always took him this
fast, but not normally stranding up. This new position, the new angle… Ikuto
was certain his body was going to split apart.
Kazuomi continued to push into him, grunting like a hog. Tears welled in the
corners of Ikuto’s blue eyes, dripping slowly down his cheeks. Sweat broke out
on his shoulders and chest. The pain was so hot, so much. He whimpered, his
nails raking the porcelain and then biting into his palms.
But Kazuomi was still pushing into him. Finally, Ikuto felt he older man’s hips
meet his back and nearly sobbed in relief, but the relief was short-lived.
Almost immediately, Kazuomi pulled out and began to push back in, setting a
slow languid pace. Ikuto doubled over in agony.
“Oh, you’re so fucking tight,” Kazuomi grunted. “I should take you like this
more often.”
A ragged sound escaped Ikuto’s lips.
Kazuomi pulled out and slammed back into him quickly, hard.
Ikuto yelped in anguish.
“What?” Kazuomi asked, still moving hard. “Does that hurt?”
Ikuto’s hands raked the vanity, seeking something to anchor him, to help him
hold on against the pain, but here was nothing. Raggedly, he whispered, “P-
please, not like this. It… it hurts too much.”
Kazuomi slammed into him and a sharp scream escaped Ikuto’s mouth. “You’re not
bleeding,” he said.
Ikuto whimpered. “P-please, stop! This… this hurts! It hurts, please!” Tears
rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto the white porcelain vanity.
Kazuomi didn’t stop. He continued to thrust while he considered this.
Ikuto doubled over, his cheek pressed against the cold mirror. Bent like this,
in half over the vanity, it didn’t hurt quite so much, but it was still too
much. Black was threatening the corners of his vision, tears made everything
fuzzy. This… this was what death must have been like, Ikuto decided—painful,
dark, fuzzy, feeling everything slip away.
But he knew he wasn’t dying. That would have been too easy. He couldn’t die
yet, not until he got Utau out of here.
Kazuomi grunted, lifting Ikuto’s hips a little higher for easier penetration.
Some more pain melted away as the sharp tearing angle within him decreased.
Ikuto whimpered in some small relief.
“Still hurt?” Kazuomi asked though he didn’t seem to truly care.
Ikuto didn’t answer. He didn’t know if that would be a good thing or a bad
thing that he was in less pain. He didn’t want to give Kazuomi a reason to
change position and hurt him again.
Kazuomi continued to thrust and slam into Ikuto’s smaller body, grunting in
pleasure. Then, suddenly, as Ikuto felt him nearing his release by the way his
pace became frenzied and deeper, Kazuomi fisted his hand in Ikuto’s night-dark
hair and yanked his head up. Ikuto found himself staring right into his own
eyes, into his deep dark gaze. His heart stopped.
“Look,” Kazuomi hissed. “Look at the face you’re making while I fuck you in the
ass.”
And Ikuto stared, stunned, unable to breathe, unable to look away.
Inside him, Kazuomi spilled his burning seed and pulled out.
Ikuto’s legs were weak from the pain and he slid to his knees, breaking the
eye-contact he had with his own reflection. On his knees on the cold tile of
the bathroom, Kazuomi left him there, leaving only lingering laughter and the
burning of salty seed. For far too long, Ikuto remained crumpled there on the
cold tile.
That person in the mirror…
There was no way that had been him.
That face… that expression… those eyes…
There was no way that had been him.
                                     X X X
For some odd reason, I totally love the way this chapter came out. I’m sure
most people won’t really care to read about other characters other than Ikuto
and Amu, but I personally like to have quite the wide range of supporting
characters. So expect moments of Yukari, Kairi, Yuu, Tsukasa, and the like.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Who missed me?
Review!
***** Friday Night: Yuu's Assistance *****
Randomreader: You should consider getting an account. It’s free and easy. I
love all your long and wonderful reviews. But it wasn’t Monday in the last
chapter and now suddenly Friday. And their art class is an every single school
day class, not a once a week thing. Time has passed since the Monday chapter.
I’m not going to write every single boring day of school that week. So, if I
skip from Monday to Friday, just roll with it. Assume that days in between were
normal with nothing interesting to report and let it go. (You should stop
looking for plot-related errors because you won’t find one—typos, yes, plot-
errors, no. I have everything checked and planned.) I’m glad you’re enjoying
this story!
                                     X X X
Later Friday night, when Utau got out of rehearsal at Easter’s main building,
Ikuto wasn’t there to pick her up. Though that was surprising since he was
always on time and would never forget to pick her up, she wasn’t all too
concerned. It was probably something simple and Ikuto would be here soon. There
was probably traffic or maybe an accident had held him up. Or maybe he
overslept a little bit since he did work far too hard though it wasn’t like
Ikuto to oversleep.
Even so, Utau wasn’t worried.
She made herself comfortable in the underground parking garage, leaning against
the cold concrete wall. She watched some people leave, amused herself by trying
to make sense of some of their vanity license plates or by reading the bumper
stickers they desecrated their expensive cars with. Occasionally, she looked at
her watch or at the screen of her phone. Ikuto hadn’t called and only five
minutes had passed. She sang a little bit, giggling at how strange her voice
sounded as it bounced off the walls.
At least, she wasn’t worried for the first fifteen minutes.
But then, twenty minutes had passed and Ikuto still wasn’t there. Utau was
standing alone in the dark parking garage, feeling very much like a dumb
scream-queen from an old horror movie. Where was Ikuto? Had something happened
to him? She began to pace, back and forth, back and forth, between a Beemer and
a red convertible. Her footsteps were loud in the silence, echoing eerily.
Maybe she should tell their step-father and get a ride home to check on Ikuto.
Quickly, she hurried back into the building and rode the elevator to the top
floor where her step-father’s office was. She spoke to his secretary.
“I’m sorry, Utau,” the young woman said. “He left about an hour and a half
ago.”
Utau’s violet eyes widened. “For where?”
“Home,” the woman said, pushing some pale hair behind her ear. “Is something
wrong? Should I call him for you?”
“No,” Utau said quickly. “Thanks.”
Then, she turned on her heel and raced from the office. Everything made sense
now—Ikuto’s being late, why he wasn’t here to pick her up. Kazuomi had gone
home, cornered Ikuto alone while she was at rehearsal. Only god knew what that
bastard was doing to her precious brother right at this very moment.
Utau didn’t bother with the elevator. She raced down the stairs, bypassing the
parking garage where she might have caught a ride from Yukari. She couldn’t ask
for help, not with this. If she let anything slip and Yukari even suspected
what was going on in the Hoshina house, it would be just like with Utau’s
mother, Souko. Money could buy anything—false justice, love, murder, and for
Ikuto… Utau didn’t even want to think about it. Instead, she spilled out onto
the street, panting for breath.
Night was descending, painting the sky all shades of orange and red. The sky
was bloody.
Utau’s heart pounded as she raced to the curb and lifted her hand, shouting to
hail a taxi. Most people insisted that taxis would only stop for beautiful
women. Utau might have been only fifteen, but she looked older. She was wearing
her usual rehearsal clothes, a black dress with a sheer scarf around her
shoulders and some high heels. Dressing like that made her feel beautiful, made
her feel strong, and she needed to feel that way. Even so, a taxi did not stop
for her.
Utau took off her high heels, stuffed them into her shoulder bag, and yanked
out her school shoes which had nice flat soles. Without bothering with her
socks, she shoved her feet into them and started to run. People shouted at her
as she brushed past them, but she didn’t care. All that mattered right now was
getting home, getting to Ikuto, and doing what little she could for him.
…
Nikaidou Yuu was on his way home from work when he saw her. Hoshina Utau, the
boss’s step-daughter, was running on the sidewalk. She was pushing herself to
the limits of her body, her pale hair streaming back. She looked in a state of
panic, panting for breath, pale yet flushed. She wasn’t wearing socks with her
shoes.
If seeing Utau running wasn’t enough to tip Yuu’s worry scale, the fact that
Ikuto hadn’t come to get her pushed his worry over the edge. Ikuto always came
for his sister. His entire world rose and set in her eyes, he would do anything
for her, and he loved her. Ikuto and Utau only had each other left since both
their real father and later their mother’s death.
There was no way Ikuto had forgotten to pick Utau up.
And Utau looked worried, panicked.
Something was wrong.
Yuu quickly pulled his car over against the sidewalk and threw open the door.
“Hey, Utau!” he shouted.
The girl froze, her violet eyes wide. She looked like a deer caught in the
headlights of an oncoming car, panicked and pale. She was panting wildly, her
thin bare legs trembling. She must have been running hard and long,
desperately.
“Utau,” Yuu called to her. “What are you doing? Let me give you a lift.”
People were beginning to stare at her, at him, at them. She looked between
Yuu’s car and the sidewalk before her. Yuu wondered what the situation looked
like—he was trying to persuade a young beautiful girl into his car and she
looked like the boogeyman was chasing her.
“Utau,” Yuu said again, pleadingly.
But Utau was already moving to his car, clutching her bag to her chest like a
lifeline. She wrenched open the passenger side door and threw herself in,
slamming the door behind herself with a bang. “I need to,” she paused to pant
for breath, “get home.”
“Where’s Ikuto?” Yuu asked, his hand on the steering wheel.
Her hands tightened into fists. “I need to get home,” she repeated.
Yuu pulled the car away from the curb, headed towards Kazuomi’s mansion. Utau
was silent in the passenger seat, her violet eyes wide and tragic and faced
forward in tunnel vision. She was unable to tear her eyes from the road,
leaning forward with her fingers clenched into the dash. Yuu wanted to ask her
what was going on, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him. Even so, he just had to
try.
“Utau,” he asked. “Where is Ikuto?”
She jolted, her wide eyes turning to him. “He’s… at home.”
“Why didn’t he pick you up?”
She continued to stare without seeing him. “He’s… at home,” she said again.
“Utau, you have to talk to me,” Yuu said firmly. “Or I’m not going any
farther.”
She glared at him and waited until he stopped at a red light before throwing
open the door and leaping from the car.
“Utau! Wait!” Yuu shouted, making a grab for her.
The door snapped down on his fingertips, breaking the skin across his knuckles,
and she was already long gone. Once again, she was sprinting down the street.
There was nothing Yuu could do except pull his fingers from the door, wrap them
in the tail of his shirt to keep blood from getting all over the car, and keep
driving. But, he wouldn’t let Utau go simply because she had jumped from his
car. He knew where she was going and now he was going there, too.
To Hoshina Kazuomi’s house.
To her home.
…
The doorbell rang.
Wearing his favorite silk robe and basking in the afterglow of fucking Ikuto
hard, Kazuomi was loathe to scrape himself off the couch to answer it. Under
normal circumstances, he would have had Ikuto answer it, but the boy had yet to
emerge from the bathroom. Maybe he really had been hurt. Never had Kazuomi
whine that pathetically in pain. So, grumbling, Kazuomi got up and answered the
door.
Nikaidou Yuu was standing on the other side, his fingers wrapped in the edge of
his shirttail with blood seeping through.
Kazuomi wrinkled his brow. “Yuu? What are you doing here?” He eyed the man’s
fingers, gauged Yuu’s concerned expression, and tried to figure out what was
going on. “What happened to you?”
Yuu craned his neck, trying to look past Kazuomi and into the house.
Kazuomi shuffled his feet, blocking Yuu’s view. “Can I help you, Yuu?”
Yuu turned to him, eyes hard. “Where’s Ikuto?”
Kazuomi’s gaze narrowed. “What business of that is yours?”
“Where is he?” Yuu repeated.
…
Utau was running, pushing herself to and beyond her limits. She knew that Yuu
would go to her house, to check on Ikuto, maybe even to confront Kazuomi. If he
did… What would happen to Ikuto if what Kazuomi did to him was found out? What
would Kazuomi do if he was found out? Would he buy himself freedom and more
power with the money from Easter? Would it be just like Souko’s suspicious
death? They said she got sick, but… she didn’t get sick.
She rounded the corner of the block, panting desperately. And she saw Yuu’s car
at the end of the driveway.
At the door, Yuu was standing there, his fingers bloody from something.
Kazuomi was standing in the threshold, glaring.
Utau’s heart throbbed in panic and fear. She didn’t see Ikuto and there were no
lights on in his bedroom. Where was he? Was he hurt? Was he even home? If he
wasn’t, where was he? She slowed to a walk, trying to look casual. The moon was
at her back, casting a long quivering shadow in front of her. She wondered what
she looked like as she walked up the driveway. Did she look like a ghost? Like
a girl? Like nothing at all?
Both men turned to look at her.
Kazuomi said bitterly, “Utau, what is going on here?”
She tried to compose her voice. “Hi Dad,” she said, gasping a little.
Kazuomi glowered at her, fiercely, angrily. He didn’t like anyone in his
business.
Yuu’s expression was unreadable, caught between concern and something angry.
“Utau,” he murmured.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, playing innocent and coy.
Yuu drew his brows together. “Utau?” he asked. “What about Ikuto?”
Kazuomi broke in. “What about Ikuto?”
Utau bit her lip. “He… he never came to pick me up.”
Kazuomi raised a brow, his lips quirking in a sick little smile. “Oh?”
“Yeah. I was… really worried,” Utau murmured.
“And Yuu is here, why?” Kazuomi asked, glowering at the man.
“He gave me a ride… part of the way home…”
“And is there a reason he got here before you?” Kazuomi asked, his voice hard.
Utau took a step back. “He-he’s a crazy driver. I got out of the car at a red
light,” she murmured.
Yuu opened his mouth to protest, but Utau slid him a desperate look. ‘Please,’
her eyes said, ‘Be quiet.’ So Yuu clammed up. He didn’t understand what was
happening here, but he had a feeling something bad was going to happen if he
went against Kazuomi or Utau. It had been a very bad idea to come here.
“Oh?” Kazuomi said. “Then what about that?” He gestured to Yuu’s bloodied
fingers.
Utau glanced at them, but didn’t know she had caught Yuu’s fingers in the door
when she fled. For a few heartbeats, she just stared, the blood draining from
her face.
Kazuomi folded his arms across his chest. “Well, Yuu, did you do something to
hurt my step-daughter and she got the better of you?”
“No!” Yuu gasped out. Of all the ways he had expected this to go, this was not
one of them.
Kazuomi turned to Utau. “Well, sweetie,” he said coolly and reached out to pet
her wild hair.
She forced herself not to shy away.
“Did he hurt you?” Kazuomi murmured.
“No,” Utau whispered. “Nothing happened. I’m alright. Ikuto just forgot to pick
me up.”
Kazuomi lifted his eyes to Yuu, his lips pulling into a smile.
“Please, can we let this go?” Utau asked.
Kazuomi wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders and guided her into the
house, pressing her to his side for a moment. Utau shivered, but ducked
gratefully into the house. The shadows swallowed her up greedily. Yuu was
frozen, his fingers throbbing.
Kazuomi glanced at Yuu. “We’re done here,” he said icily. “And if you go after
my kids again…” The threat hung in the air.
Then, Kazuomi closed the door in Yuu’s face with a bang.
Yuu stood there, stunned. His heart was pounding like a drum, uneven and wild.
He had a feeling that he had just dodged a bullet that could have taken his
life. Yuu backed away from the door, his fingers throbbing. He had a feeling he
was lucky to be alive. Nothing would save him if he tried to help those kids,
if he tried to cross Kazuomi—he knew that now. And he also knew there was no
way he was going to be sleeping tonight. Insomnia was one thing, nightmare were
completely another.
                                     X X X
Milo Elatti (aka MiloElatti on DeviantArt) drew some fanart for my Shugo Chara
story, Deafening Silence. Link to her profile on DeviantArt: miloelatti.
deviantart. c o m / or you can copy and paste the link below.
- "I'll try to get us out of this" – (this is filed under mature so you'll need
an account to view it, but it's not frightening so don't worry) miloelatti.
deviantart. c o m /#/d54qno5 (Links can also be found in my profile so please
check it out.)
Well, Yuu tried to help them, but that didn’t work real well.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Friday Night: Protecting Utau *****
ATTENTION: Whoever the anonymous reviewer is that’s leaving me bizarre reviews
(like the last one which said only “AlyceinWndrlnd”) please cut it out. Reviews
ARE supposed to be about the story, NOT some superfluous misspelled random
thing. Okay? I appreciate it.
                                     X X X
Ikuto heard the doorbell ring and was abruptly jolted from his stupor. For a
moment, he stared at the empty bathroom and couldn’t remember why he was on the
floor. He dragged himself to his feet, numb from the cold tiles. Then, he
caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and was abruptly sick,
retching in the toilet bowl.
That face…
There was no way that was him.
Ikuto grabbed his pajamas from the floor and pulled them on, shivering as the
cold cloth touched his raw skin. His dark hair was nearly dry. How long had he
been lying on the bathroom floor, used and discarded? He couldn’t remember.
There was blood on the vanity where he had gripped it and blood on the floor
beneath his feet. He had scrubbed his flesh to hard, dug his nails into his
palms…
He heard voices—Kazuomi’s, Yuu’s, and Utau’s.
Oh god, Utau. He hadn’t picked her up at the studio. She was probably worried
sick.
Ikuto quickly made his way down the hall, stumbling on his numb legs and unable
to support himself with his numb hands. Pain stabbed through his body, ripping
him apart, but he walked anyway. He had to get to the kitchen, had to see Utau,
had to make sure she was alright. He stumbled, fell to his knees, but he was
close enough to hear the conversation, close enough to see their long shadows
cast by the moonlight.
Kazuomi was subtly threatening Yuu and then he outright threatened him. The
door slammed shut and some relief coursed through Ikuto. Everything was
alright. Their secrets were safe, Utau was safe, everything he cared about was
alright. He relaxed, slumping down against the wall with a small soft sigh. He
closed his eyes, exhausted.
Then, the world took a sudden turn.
…
Kazuomi watched out the peephole as Yuu stood there, stunned. He could
practically see the other man’s heart beating wildly through his chest. Yuu
looked terrified, shocked, panicked. He looked like someone who had been sent
into a gunfight with a water pistol. Kazuomi grinned, pleased with himself, and
watched Yuu stumble his way back down the driveway. He got into his car and
drove off, headlights fading into the dark night. Silence reigned.
Utau squirmed. Her wrist was trapped in Kazuomi’s hard grip. “Let go, please,”
she said.
Kazuomi turned to face her and suddenly pushed her up against the wall,
trapping her small form between his body and the wall. She felt his erection
against her thighs and felt her blood run cold. Sweat broke out on the back of
her neck, cold, and her heart skipped a beat.
“What did you do, Utau?” Kazuomi hissed in her face. “Did you think bringing
someone here would protect you? Protect your worthless brother? Do you think
there’s anything you can do to stop me?”
Her violet eyes widened, panic gripping her heart like a cold claw. “I d-
didn’t.”
Kazuomi smashed his lips to hers. Terror swelled in Utau’s heart, but it was
two different fears. The first was terror for Ikuto and his heart. This was
what Ikuto was trying to protect her from—how would he feel if he failed? The
second was pure unadulterated fear of being violated. She didn’t want her step-
father to rape her any more than she wanted him to rape Ikuto. A small half-
stifled scream escaped her mouth, muffled by Kazuomi’s lips.
Kazuomi dug his fingers into her arms, holding her still. She tried to thrash
her head from side to side, but his mouth followed expertly. She supposed he
had a lot of experience forcing himself on someone. After all, he had been
violating Ikuto since he was ten. She squirmed and struggled, terror in her
heart, in her mind. The fear took her over, immobilized her, made her panic.
She pushed helplessly against his chest, but didn’t even think to scream.
Kazuomi’s tongue pushed its way into her mouth and he tasted horrible. In a
sudden stroke of clear-headedness, the terror subsiding momentarily, Utau bit
down on his tongue. Her mouth flooded with his blood, making her gag and spit.
She tried to escape him, but couldn’t. His body was too large, too strong, too
powerful. Kazuomi pulled back from her, cursing, and wiped his lips. He lifted
his hand to strike her and Utau winced, a whimper escaping her lips.
“Ikuto!” she screamed.
Kazuomi slapped her, choking off her cry.
Utau crumpled to the floor and saw bare feet. Tears filled her eyes, blurring
her vision, and she pressed her hand to her cheek. Her large eyes shone in the
dark and she looked up at her step-father. Then, her eyes slid away, looking
beyond Kazuomi and at something else. Relief came into her expression.
Kazuomi turned and saw Ikuto standing there.
There was something frightening in the boy’s expression. His blue eyes were
dark, narrow, fierce. His pale face was enraged, spots of color blooming in his
cheeks, and the pulse in his throat beating like a hard drum. In one swift
movement so fast that Kazuomi didn’t even see it coming, Ikuto’s knuckles
slammed into Kazuomi’s face.
The man stumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall as his fingers went to
his brutalized jaw. He had never been punched so hard in his life and Ikuto’s
body was nothing more than a twig wrapped in rags. How was such a hard strike
possible? It had to be more than just adrenaline giving him this power.
Then, as he watched Ikuto move swiftly to his little sister’s side. Utau
reached for her brother, sobbing, and Ikuto literally lifted her into his arms.
He held her smaller body against his chest, one arm under her legs and the
other around her back, and raced past Kazuomi into the garage. A moment later,
the garage door rolled up and the Jaguar screamed down the driveway. Ikuto and
Utau were both gone.
Kazuomi got to his feet and rubbed his jaw. Ikuto’s fist had been ice-cold,
freezing, and he had hit Kazuomi so hard that the recoil must have gone into
his shoulder. How could Ikuto not have felt that, have felt the pain going
through his hand and into his shoulder? But the boy’s expression had never even
changed.
Kazuomi sat down on the couch, considering how that was possible. Adrenaline
was one thing, but this was entirely another. Ikuto had been slumped on the
cold bathroom floor for a long time. His body must have been cold and therefore
numb. But if that was the case… Kazuomi should be a little afraid. How could
such a numb and cold and frail body cause him such pain, such a hard cruel
punch? Ikuto’s protection was dangerous. Who knew what he was capable of if it
was to protect his sister?
The man reclined against the cushions. Well, he would just have to fix that.
Once he broke Ikuto, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything that boy was
capable anymore. But, it would be hard to break someone like Ikuto, especially
as long as he had Utau. But Kazuomi was nothing if not patient and cruel.
…
Ikuto drove, his eyes glued to the road. He looked as if he was in another
world, another dimension, just staring blankly at the night beyond the glass.
In the passenger seat, Utau clung to his hand and sobbed. All Kazuomi had done
was forcibly kiss her and she felt as if her mouth would never be clean again,
as if no amount of toothpaste or mouthwash would make that taste go away. She
couldn’t even imagine how Ikuto must have felt being raped day in and day out
for the past seven years.
“Ikuto,” she sobbed, clinging to his hand.
After a long moment, Ikuto pulled his hand from her grasp and put it on the
wheel. He shuddered, blinked, and seemed to come back to his senses.
“What are we going to do?” Utau sobbed, looking to him for guidance as she
always had.
Ikuto glanced at her. “I have to go to work,” he said. “You’ll stay with me.”
“But,” she whispered, “You’re wearing your pajamas.”
Ikuto looked down at himself surprised to discover that he was indeed wearing
his cotton pajama bottoms, a t-shirt, and that he was barefoot. Right, he had
stumbled his way down the hallway from the bathroom, seen Kazuomi forcing
himself on Utau, and gone over the deep end. He hardly even remembered punching
that bastard in the face and getting her out of there. It was all a blur,
distant, as if it had happened to someone else. All he could clearly remember
was…
That face in the mirror.
It couldn’t have been his.
“Well,” he murmured, but didn’t have anything to say. He wasn’t sure what he
could do now. Sure, Nadeshiko and Nagihiko were both working, but if he showed
up in his pajamas with no shoes on, they would help him but ask far too many
questions. In light of what had just happened with Yuu, Ikuto had a feeling he
needed to keep this to himself. “Do you have any money?” he asked his sister.
She shook her head. “I didn’t grab my purse.”
Ikuto opened the center console and rifled through it. He usually left his
driver’s license in the car, but kept his wallet in his room in the mansion.
Occasionally, he left his wallet in the car too, but not tonight. All he had
was his driver’s license and that wasn’t enough to get him through the night.
He sighed heavily and closed the console.
“I don’t have anything either,” he murmured.
Utau sniffled and pulled herself together. “What are we going to do?”
“I need some clothes,” he muttered. “So I can go to work.”
“What about Nagihiko?” Utau offered.
Ikuto shook his head. “They’ll ask to many questions,” he murmured.
“Tsukasa?” she asked.
He shook his head again. “No.”
“What about that girl? Amu?”
“She’s won’t have any guy clothes,” he said.
Utau sat silently, staring at the night. “Then, we could…” she paused,
thinking. “I have no idea,” she said finally.
Ikuto didn’t seem surprised.
The moon was full and round, casting a soft silvery light on everything. The
world looked like something out of a fairytale, like something from a dream or
a nightmare. Ikuto drove in silence, thinking. He didn’t have very many choices
and time was running out. He had to be at work in half an hour.
“I know what we’re going to do,” he said suddenly.
“What?” Utau asked, glancing over at him.
Ikuto didn’t answer, but she could see the pulse in his throat beating
nervously.
                                     X X X
And, cliffy! Mwuahaha! Well, what do you all think Ikuto is going to do? Maybe
rob a store? Maybe show up to work in his pajamas? Maybe send Utau in to work
for him? Who knows!
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review if you want to know!
***** Friday Night: A Place for Help *****
Happy Fourth of July all!
                                     X X X
The Planetarium was dark and the sign was flipped to ‘closed,’ but Ikuto could
see the stars dancing on the walls inside. Tsukasa lived in a small apartment
above his little shop and didn’t sleep very regularly because he always had
something going on. Tonight, he was probably up playing with the kittens he had
rescued earlier. His nephew, Tadase, was probably asleep though and that was
perfect. Ikuto had been betting that the man was awake and for once, luck was
one his side.
“The Planetarium?” Utau asked, looking over at her brother. “I thought you
didn’t want to go to Tsukasa.”
“He’s our best bet. You can probably even stay here with him instead of coming
to work with me,” Ikuto murmured and put his hand on the door to get out of the
Jag.
Utau grabbed his hand, her eyes wide and a little desperate. “No!” she gasped.
“I don’t want to leave you. I… I’m afraid!”
Ikuto gently hugged her, stroking her pale hair. “Utau, it’s alright,” he
murmured.
For a moment, she clung to him and then he felt the sobs wrack her small form.
He hushed her, holding and rocking her softly while she cried. He wondered if
Tsukasa was watching them from inside the Planetarium, worrying about them, but
he didn’t see anyone silhouetted against the windows with the stars at their
back. Finally, Utau had cried herself out and Ikuto fetched the box of tissues
from the glove compartment.
Utau mopped her face. “How do you deal with it?” she whispered.
He tilted his head. “What?”
“I feel so… used and dirty. And all he did was kiss me. How do you live with
it?”
Ikuto smiled at her thinly, crookedly, sadly. “I have you,” he murmured.
“Ikuto,” she whispered.
He gently took her hand and pulled her to her feet from the car. “Let’s go. I
need to get to work soon.”
She nodded and followed him to the Planetarium. Tsukasa hadn’t been watching
them. In fact, he was asleep in a chair, having nodded off gazing at the stars
as they played across the ceiling. At his feet, all the kittens were sleeping.
Ikuto rapped on the glass and Tsukasa woke with a start, his face immediately
concerned as he crossed the room to let them in. The kittens all followed him,
mewling.
“Ikuto, Utau,” Tsukasa said. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Ikuto didn’t tell him. All he said was, “I need to borrow some clothes and go
to work. Can Utau stay here with you?”
“Of course,” Tsukasa said. “When do you need to work?”
“Ten,” Ikuto said.
“Cutting it a little close,” Tsukasa said. “Just a minute while I run upstairs
and get you something.”
“Thanks,” Ikuto whispered.
Tsukasa looked like he wanted to embrace both of them, but held himself back.
With a quick nod, he hurried away and vanished up the service stairs that led
to his small apartment upstairs. He checked on Tadase while he was there. The
boy was sleeping, his eyes red-rimmed as if he had cried himself to sleep.
Tsukasa closed the door softly. Then, he hurried into his bedroom to collect
some suitable clothing for Ikuto. Since the boy was so thin, he also grabbed a
belt and then hustled back downstairs.
Utau and Ikuto were sitting at the bar, whispering, and they clammed up the
moment Tsukasa entered.
“Here you go,” Tsukasa said to Ikuto and handed him the clothes. “It’ll
probably be too big for you so I brought you a belt. If we need to, I can punch
more holes in it.”
Ikuto nodded gratefully and took the clothes, careful not to let his icy
fingers brush Tsukasa’s. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Tsukasa gently touched Ikuto’s shoulder. “If you need to, Utau can spend the
night here and I’ll bring her to school tomorrow.”
Ikuto nodded, but Utau made a small sound of protest.
“In fact, both of you can stay the night here. I’ll make up the couch.”
Utau looked at her brother pleadingly, her eyes portraying what her lips
couldn’t speak aloud.
“That would be…” Ikuto murmured finally, “great.”
Tsukasa smiled. “Good.”
Utau let out a small breath of relief.
Ikuto nodded to both of them and turned away with the clothes gathered to his
chest. He ducked into the bathroom to change, the door closing softly behind
him. A moment later, the lock tumbled which Tsukasa found a little strange, but
didn’t comment. Light filtered under the door into the darkened Planetarium and
they watched Ikuto’s bare feet through the crevice as he moved about. Even his
feet looked thin and small and vulnerable, as fragile as glass.
Silence spread between Utau and Tsukasa, punctuated by the drip-drip of the
faucet behind the low counter.
Utau sensed that Tsukasa wanted to ask her what happened, but was warring with
himself over it. He didn’t want to pry, but he wanted to know what brought
Ikuto to his door in the middle of the night in his pajamas. He wanted to know
what was wrong, what had happened, if there was anything he could do to help,
but he didn’t want to ask. He must have sensed it was something neither of them
wanted to talk about, as if speaking those words aloud would give their fears
more power over them.
Finally, much to Utau’s relief, Tsukasa shook his head slightly and moved
behind the bar where he began to shuffle.
Under normal circumstances, Tsukasa would have made chocolate milkshakes, but
it was late and it was cool outside in the night. Instead, he made hot
chocolate but heaped as much whipped cream onto the mug as he usually did to
his milkshakes. He set the steaming mug and a spoon in front of Utau, watching
as she gratefully cupped her trembling hands around the warmth. To appease him,
she took a sip, licking some whipped cream, even though she wasn’t hungry.
A moment later, Ikuto emerged from the bathroom. He was drowning in Tsukasa’s
clothes and now wearing socks but still no shoes.
Tsukasa gazed at him a moment, went into the box of Lost and Found items he
kept in the closet, and came back with a pair of sneakers that would probably
fit Ikuto. He accepted them gratefully and knelt to tie them.
When he straightened up, he said, “Thank you, Tsukasa.”
“It’s no trouble, Ikuto. I’ll always help you,” he paused, “with anything so
long as it’s in my power to do so.”
Ikuto nodded, appreciative.
Tsukasa tried to hand him a cup of hot chocolate, but Ikuto pushed it away.
“I have to go. I’ll be back after work,” to Tsukasa he said, “At four.”
“I’ll stay up for you,” the man promised.
Ikuto shook his head. “It’s alright. If you tell me where the key is, I’ll let
myself in.”
Tsukasa got his keys from behind the bar, took one off, and handed it to Ikuto.
“Come right on up to the apartment. The couch will be made up for you.”
Ikuto nodded, his lips curving in a faint smile. Then, he turned to leave. Utau
reached out desperately for her brother, her violet eyes sad and red-rimmed. He
grasped her fingers a moment, giving them a soft reassuring squeeze, and then
was gone into the night. Tsukasa and Utau watched the headlight fade together
and then turned away.
…
Nadeshiko and Nagihiko were waiting at the café Cat’s Eye for Ikuto since he
was running a few minutes late. He thanked them both, feeling their eyes rake
his too-big clothing. Thankfully, they didn’t ask him why or say anything about
it. Instead, Nagihiko patted him on the back and Nadeshiko gave him a swift hug
goodbye. Usually, Ikuto would have shied from both touches, but tonight he
enjoyed them. He wasn’t sure why the twins had decided he needed those touches,
but he was happy to receive them, to know that people cared for him and would
miss him if he was dead. Then, he ducked into the welcoming café and began his
long late-night shift.
…
At four in the morning, Ikuto returned to the Planetarium. Using the key
Tsukasa had given him from his key ring, he let himself in. As promised, the
couch in the apartment where Tsukasa and Tadase lived was made up with sheets
and pillows and blankets. Utau was sleeping there, sitting up, apparently
having fallen asleep waiting up for Ikuto. The rest of the apartment was quiet,
dark, still, peaceful.
Ikuto changed back into his pajamas and then woke Utau. With a soft moan, her
violet eyes fluttered open.
“Ikuto?” she whispered.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked her.
She rubbed her eyes. “I… was waiting up for you,” she whispered.
He gazed at her. “Why? You should be sleeping.”
She bit her lip, hesitating.
“Utau,” he said gently.
“I… I don’t want to be alone,” she confessed. “Can I… Can I sleep with you
tonight?”
His lips parted.
“Please?” she whispered, pleadingly.
With a soft sigh, Ikuto nodded and sat down on the couch. Utau leaned hard into
his side, found his hand in the darkness, and held it tightly. He wrapped his
arm around her narrow shoulders and she pushed into him harder, as if she
wanted to crawl inside his body, as if that would keep her safe from the
horrors of the outside world. Though Ikuto’s body was probably the least safe
place. Ikuto pressed her between his chest and the back of the couch, his arms
wrapped around her protectively. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing
tremulously.
After a moment, she started to cry. Ikuto only held her, cradled her, comforted
her. Utau’s small fingers fisted in his shirt, gripping him tightly and sobbed
as if her very heart was breaking. He stroked her hair, squeezed her shoulders,
rubbed her back, and finally gently pressed his lips to her temple. After a
long time, Utau’s crying stopped. Nestled against her brother’s thin chest, she
slept peacefully, calmly, without nightmares of her step-father forcing his
lips to hers.
Ikuto only wished his own sleep could be so peaceful. Exhaustion took him and
he slept soundlessly, but restlessly. When he woke from one nightmare, drenched
in sweat, he found Utau sitting up, gazing at him in the darkness. Then, it was
her turn to hold him. For once, he let her, grateful for the comfort. She
simply held her brother, her palms against his back, stroking his night-dark
hair. Finally, Ikuto slept without dreams or nightmares.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
Happy Fourth!
***** Amu's Darkness *****
Oh for crying out loud, I can’t believe how much everyone whined about not
hearing about Amu for a whole three chapters. She’s holed up in a dark
basement. Who cares what she’s doing? She’s sitting in the dark. Anyway, stop
whining because here’s her chapter! Jeez…
                                     X X X
Amu lost track of time while she was locked in the pitch darkness of the
basement. She was freezing cold, her broken arm was throbbing, and the blood on
her skin was hot. She itched where the blood had dried on her palm, but
couldn’t find the energy to scratch at it. She was tired, cold, thirsty,
starving. How long had she been locked down here… in the basement? How long had
she been in the pressing abyss of darkness? This was what death must have felt
like. In her coffin, rotting, feeding the worms, did Ami’s ghost feel like
this? Or was Ami in heaven, with her own pair of white wings and sitting on a
cloud?
Somewhere, the rat skittered, squeaked, and went silent.
Time passed slowly. Amu couldn’t sleep, no matter how exhausted she was. She
was too concerned with the rat. What if it came to eat at her while she slept?
What if it nibbled on her fingertips? What if her parents never came down to
let her out? What if she died here? What if she rotted here? What if no one
ever found her? Did she deserve to die like this? Yeah, she must have… Amu
shivered, clenching her teeth so they wouldn’t chatter. Her heartbeat was
pounding in her ears, the sound of her own breath filling up her head. Her own
body was pulling her in.
Then, at the top of the stairs, the basement door swung open.
Like a staircase to heaven, light tumbled down the concrete steps.
At the top, her mother’s graceful figure was silhouetted.
Amu wasn’t sure if her heartbeat skipped and sped up out of fear, happiness, or
something else entirely. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the cold
dark basement, but she was afraid of what waited for her in the light. What
would be waiting on the other side of death? Even though she knew she wasn’t
going to die, not yet, she still felt a surge of irrational helpless fear.
Midori walked down the stairs, her heels clicking loudly on the concrete, and
Tsumugu appeared at the top, watching them. Midori crouched at Amu’s side,
carrying a flashlight, and she shone it on Amu’s face. A moment later, her
fingertips gently touched Amu’s face, caressed a soft path from her temple to
her chin.
“Are you okay, baby?” Midori whispered.
Amu was cradling her arm protectively to her chest. Now, she lifted it
painfully into the light. When she saw the wound in its entirety, she felt her
stomach roll. The bone was sticking out of her flesh, white and ragged, and her
arm was bent at an unnatural angle. Blood covered most of her arm and hand. In
some places, it was dried and flaking off, but it was damp and shiny in others.
The wound was still bleeding sluggishly, staining her clothes.
“Oh, honey,” Midori murmured. “That looks like it hurts.”
Amu nodded. “I m-must ha-ave b-broken it w-when I f-f-fell,” she choked out.
Her voice was dry and cracked, like her wound, hoarse with pain.
Midori stroked her hair gently. “That’s right,” she crooned. “When you fell.”
She nodded again, a tear rolling down her cheek.
Midori pressed a water bottle to Amu’s lips and the young girl drank greedily,
gulping, clutching at it. That water, even though she knew it was just from the
tap, tasted more delicious than anything else in the world. Two days in an
abyss of darkness certainly put small things, the things no one appreciated,
into perspective. She hadn’t realized how precious both water and light were.
In the darkness, the rat skittered away, hiding in the shadows.
“Tsumugu,” Midori called up the stairway. “We need to go to the hospital.”
Tsumugu’s footsteps were loud on the concrete steps. He knelt beside Amu and
lifted her into his arms. He smelled nice, like a father should, and his grip
on her small body was strong and safe. He cradled her as he carried her up the
stairs, mindful of her broken arm. Midori followed, humming softly,
comfortingly, with her hand on Tsumugu’s back to steady him. She touched Amu’s
face, brushed some rose-colored hair from her daughter’s eyes.
Amu felt loved, felt protected, felt safe.
She felt like Ami.
But Amu only relaxed once the basement door swung closed and the darkness was
held at bay.
Tsumugu placed Amu gently in the backseat of the car, buckling her in. Amu held
her broken arm in her lap, whimpering as she looked at the wound closer. Midori
slipped in beside her daughter, cradling her daughter against her side. She
stroked Amu’s hair, kissed her temple, caressed her lovingly. In silence, they
drove to the hospital.
…
Mashiro Bailey worked in the same hospital as her husband, Corvin. (1) The only
difference was that her husband worked the dayshift and Bailey worked the
graveyard. It was an agreement they made once their marriage started failing.
Working together was just too much so they made certain they would rarely be
near each other. When he was at work, she was at home during the day so she
could take care of their daughter, Rima. When she was at work, he was at home.
Therefore, they perfectly avoided each other.
The only times the met were when they happened to pass during swing shift or at
the house between work and sleep. Even so, it was enough time for them to fight
like cats and dogs. And then, even worse, were their days off. They were at
each other’s throats the entire day. It had gotten so bad that Rima usually
left the house and was gone for hours. She only came home after she was certain
one of her parents had left and the fight was over. Bailey felt sorry for her
sweet sensitive daughter.
‘Mommy, look! Funny face, laugh, Mommy!’
But Bailey was unable to laugh anymore. Between her job and her marriage, she
found nothing work smiling over anymore, not even Rima. Graveyard shift was the
worst shift to work at the hospital. It was when all the junkies came in, all
the women who were so high they cared nothing for their babies, the pimps and
their beaten whores, the children starving on the streets, the husbands who
beat their wives, the children whose parents hurt them. At night, all the hurt
beaten people came into the hospital.
It was too much for any person’s heart to bear and being a doctor, you had to
care about each and every person. You had to want to help them, to save them,
to protect them, to show them that there was light in the darkness. Bailey
always wished she could do something to save them, to help each and every one
of them, but there was nothing you could do to save another person. People
could only save themselves. And sometimes, Bailey felt that she toed the line
between helping someone and only making it worse.
Now, another sad case walked out of the night and through the doors.
Hinamori Tsumugu and Midori were frequent visitors to the graveyard shift
emergency room. Tonight, Tsumugu was carrying his lovely daughter, Amu, who
looked more gaunt and drawn than usual. Her pale face has dark bruise-like
shadows under her golden eyes, thin half-healed cuts marked her face and lips,
and her shoulders were trembling faintly. Her arm was Bailey’s biggest concern
immediately. She could see a lot of blood, most of it dried and the wound still
bleeding slowly, and a shattered bone sticking out.
“She fell down the stairs,” Midori said gently, her face mournful.
Tsumugu didn’t say anything.
The ER was nearly empty since it was still rather early in the night, just a
little before ten. In another hour, it would be packed to the gills with
junkies, prostitutes, battered women, street kids, and assholes, but right now
there were only a few other people waiting to be seen. One of which was a
cheerleader who had fallen from her pyramid at the high school game Friday
night and had only now dragged herself to the hospital. Amu’s vicious compound
fracture took priority over all the small sprained ankles and black eyes.
Bailey ushered the family through the necessary paperwork and immediately into
the x-ray room.
Tsumugu set Amu down gently in the long chair. The girl’s fingers fisted in his
shirt and she didn’t seem willing to let go. Midori tenderly loosened her
daughter’s grip and the two parents stepped away. Watching them from the corner
of her eyes, Bailey x-rayed the girl’s arm and found the fracture to be
hideous. Both the bones of her forearm had been cracked in half. To do that
kind of damage—Bailey slid her eyes to the parents suspiciously—it must have
been some fall.
With more care for Amu than the parents or what had really happened, Bailey
focused on getting Amu something for the pain. Another doctor would probably
have to operate on her arm to reset the bones, maybe even use some metal pins,
and then get her a long arm cast. What a terrible injury she had sustained, but
most troubling…
Bailey glanced at Midori and Tsumugu. “When did this happen?”
“Tonight,” Midori said smoothly.
Bailey narrowed her eyes. There was too much dried blood, too much blood, and
the wound looked old. The torn edges of flesh were beginning to scab and heal.
It must have occurred two or three days ago, at least Friday night like the
cheerleader’s ankle.
“You’re sure?” Bailey asked, pen poised above her paper.
Tsumugu nodded. “She slipped and fell down the basement stairs.”
“She must have caught her arm under herself when she fell,” Midori said.
“They’re concrete steps,” Tsumugu continued. “Dangerous. Maybe I should have
them carpeted?”
“That’s a good idea, sweetie,” Midori said, reaching out to touch him as if for
comfort.
Bailey squinted at them. It sounded like they were reading a script, like these
words were something they had rehearsed and planned. But, she had no real proof
of any of her suspicions. There was no way she could prove or deny that Amu had
taken a tumble down some concrete basement stairs. So, Bailey let it go—she had
enough problems of her own, after all.
The good thing about Midori and Tsumugu’s lies were… they were so close to the
truth that no one would ever know the difference if they didn’t care to look
very hard.
…
Amu woke in a white room with white walls and a window framed with white
curtains. On the nightstand, there was a white Styrofoam cup and a white
plastic vase with no flowers. She felt as if she was floating in a void of
light. After the darkness of the basement, the light was a welcome change.
Her arm was encased tightly in a pink plaster cast from her upper arm to her
thumb, crossing across her palm. Cautiously, she touched the hard plaster,
knocked her knuckles on it, but felt no pain. Odd, she remembered that hideous
wound, her bone sticking out through the skin. Had it been just a dream, a
nightmare?
“Feeling better?” a soft voice whispered.
Amu jolted up in the white bed so fast her head spun. She turned her head in
the direction of the voice, her mouth going dry and her throat closing over.
She wanted to speak, to scream, but no sound escaped her save a hoarse croaking
noise. Her heart should have been pounding, but… she couldn’t even feel its
beat.
Sitting at her bedside was Ami. The young girl cocked her head, dirt and worms
and flower petals cascading from her honey-colored locks. Half of her face was
perfect, beautiful, smiling. The other was a rotted visage, lips gone so that
her visible teeth were nothing but a snarl. That perfection and rot spread
beneath the lovely dress she had been buried in. All the perfection, the life,
was radiation out from the left side of Ami’s chest were there was a fresh
wound, stitched up delicately.
Amu couldn’t feel her heartbeat. She choked, she gasped, she couldn’t…
Ami smiled. Half the smile was soft and gentle, like a sister’s should be, but
the other half was nothing more than a half-rotted grinning skull. “Thank you,
Amu,” she said softly.
Amu stared at her, lifting one hand desperately to her chest. Oh god, what was
that beneath her clothes? A wound? Stitches? She still couldn’t feel her own
heartbeat.
“For what, you’re probably wondering,” Ami continued.
A helpless little sound of fear escaped Amu and she squeezed her eyes shut.
This… this was a dream, a nightmare. It had to be!
“Well,” Ami said softly. Then, Amu felt her small fingers caress the side of
her face. “For everything,” she said.
Then, all the whiteness of the hospital room melted away. Darkness swept up
like black water, engulfing everything until nothing was left. Amu was falling,
falling, unable to scream. In the distance, she saw a point of light and
managed to get her feet beneath her in the dark abyss. Though there was no
floor beneath her feet, Amu began to run towards the light. She was desperate,
afraid, terrified.
If she could just reach the light…
After what felt like an eternity, the darkness stretching on and on endless,
Amu reached the prism of light. It was a window, looking out on the world
beyond. Amu stared down at the scene before her, hands pressed to the cold
glass. It was her parents and Ami, laughing, smiling, happy—without her. She
tried to scream, tried to speak, but couldn’t. Her voice was gone along with
her heartbeat.
Outside the glass, the light faded and the window turned into a mirror.
In the silvery reflective surface, a corpse stared back at Amu. In horror, she
lifted her hands to the face that must have been hers, but even those fingers
were nothing more than bones hung with lacy strips of dried flesh. She pawed
her shattered features—the grinning bleached bones of her skull, her yellowed
eyes, the paleness of her dead skin. Then, in sudden terrified realization, she
yanked down the neck of her shirt. Since she was dead, they hadn’t bothered to
sew up the gaping hole in her chest.
Ami was alive.
Amu’s heart was gone.
Ami had taken her place in life.
With a shriek of fear, Amu lurched up in bed, panting for desperate breath. It
was dark, pale moonlight filtering in through the window. The only light
besides that was the faint glow of the numbers of her digital alarm clock.
Panting, she slumped back against the pillows.
It was nearly midnight on Wednesday.
Five days had passed since she had been thrown into the basement.
Three days had passed since her trip to the hospital.
Now, she was in her own bed, safe and alive.
It was like a bad dream, but…
Amu ran her hand down the bright pink plaster cast that encased her arm beyond
her wrist. Gently, she rapped her knuckled on the plaster. This, at least, was
real. Her injuries, her pain, her life… But she was still alive and she still
had a home. Ami would not be returned to unnatural life by Amu’s stolen heart.
She closed her eyes and slept. She was so exhausted that she fell asleep almost
immediately.
                                     X X X
(1) I looked all over for the names of Rima’s parents but couldn’t find them
anywhere. So, Rima’s name means ‘true castle’ and the names ‘Corvin’ and
‘Bailey’ are derivatives of names also meaning ‘castle.’ I quite like those
names so everyone can deal with it. They won’t have a large role in the story.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Back in Art Class *****
Everyone who reviews: Please stop reminding me to update. I do so every other
day, weekends if I have time between work shifts. I’m going to update whether
everyone likes it or not, so please, cut it out.
                                     X X X
Since Amu had missed three days of school, she and Ikuto were far behind on
their art portraits of each other. They were due on Friday and the rest of the
class was putting the finishing touches on the actual portraits on Wednesday.
On Thursday, they spent the whole class designing frames out of found materials
to go around the portraits.
Ikuto and Amu, on the other hand, still only had the barest sketches of each
other’s faces. Ikuto’s eyes stared out from Amu’s blank paper and Ikuto
wouldn’t even let anyone see what he had drawn. Even though they worked their
asses off on Thursday, there was positively no way they could be finished by
Friday. The art teacher asked them both to stay after class.
“Alright, guys,” she said, sweeping aside her broomstick skirt and sitting down
beside Amu. “How’s your arm, Amu, sweetie?”
The girl lowered her eyes, silent.
“It must be hard to draw like that,” the teacher continued.
Amu nodded.
“And Ikuto, you couldn’t draw Amu because she wasn’t here all week,” she said.
He nodded, rolling a charcoal pencil between his long fingers.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” the teacher explained, folding her paint-splattered
hands. “Is it possible for you two to get together over the weekend to finish
your projects?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just continued speaking. “I’ll
extend your deadline until Monday and you won’t have to make a picture frame.
That’s the best I can do for you since Halloween is coming and we’ll be
starting a new project on Monday. Okay?”
Since there wasn’t much choice (it was either turn it in on Monday or turn in
what they had now and fail this project), they both nodded.
…
Staying after class had made Amu late and she was terrified of missing the bus.
There were dark clouds on the horizon and she didn’t want to get stuck in the
rain. Not only would it be horrible and cold and wet, but she didn’t want to
know what her parents would do to her if she came home with a wet ruined cast.
They would ask why she had missed the bus and she would have to tell them the
teacher asked her to stay after class. They would immediately assume Amu had
done something bad and deserved to be punished. If Amu got a chance to explain,
she would have to tell them that she would need to spend time with a boy to
complete an art project. They would remind her that Ami would never do any of
those things and then…
Amu shuddered.
“Hey,” Ikuto called, his voice cutting through her thoughts even though it was
soft.
“Y-yeah?” she asked, wishing her voice didn’t quiver. She wasn’t really afraid
of him, not anymore.
Ikuto had become someone she regarded with a sort of… wary trust and he seemed
to feel the same way about her. They each knew small things about the
other—that Amu’s parents ‘fought’ and that Ikuto wasn’t ‘gay’ but bought
lube—that they didn’t want anyone else to know. Neither was certain their
secrets were completely safe and therefore wanted to watch the other, to keep
them close. But, Amu sensed that Ikuto would help her if she asked. He seemed
to… care. She saw that much in the way he tenderly handled his little sister,
Utau.
“We need to talk,” he said. He seemed to realize how harsh that sounded and
added, “About this project.”
Amu nodded, quickening her pace and forcing Ikuto to match it. “I know, but…
I’m going to miss the bus and it might rain and I don’t have an umbrella and—”
She appeared in danger of going on and on forever so Ikuto gently grasped her
elbow and forced her to stop walking. “I’ll give you a ride home,” he said.
“It’s important we talk about this project soon—preferably now.”
Amu glanced at his face, at the dark horizon, at the empty hallway, and back to
his face.
Ikuto did his best to look earnest and innocent, but he could feel the corner
of his nose quirking with impatience.
Just as he was about to give up and walk away, Amu nodded. “Alright,” she said.
He was relieved. They had formed a fragile friendship and he didn’t want
anything to come between them right now. “Good,” he said. “Where’s your
locker?”
She told him and they walked silently and slowly together. Amu noticed Ikuto
walked with a limp that he did his best to hide, as if injuries lurked beneath
his clothes. For a moment, she wondered if his parents hurt him the way her
parents hurt her. Maybe… Ikuto was a bad person too. She hugged her broken arm
to her chest, wincing slightly because it still ached and throbbed. Ikuto
glanced at her, but didn’t say anything. She appreciated that about him, about
the small friendship between them.
She didn’t ask him and he didn’t ask her.
…
Utau was leaning against the Jag, wondering where Ikuto was and hoping he got
here before the skies opened up and super-soaked her. She glanced—well more
like glowered—at her watch. She would give him ten more minutes (or until the
first raindrops fell) to get his butt out here. She was so busy worrying about
him that she didn’t see the Student Council President, Sanjo Kairi, until he
was standing right in front of her and looking rather impatient.
“What?” Utau barked at him.
Kairi handed her a clipboard. “School fundraiser,” he said, his voice and
temper both short. “Carnival theme. I need pretty girls to sign up to work the
Kissing Booth.”
Utau glared at him, shoving the clipboard back. “Forget it,” she snarled.
Kairi was just as hard-nosed and short-tempered as she was. “Listen up, Utau,”
he said shortly. “My sister is your music agent so I know all kinds of nasty
little secrets about your career that you probably don’t want made public.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Utau hissed at him.
Kairi pushed up his glasses, his blue eyes flashing. It was clear he knew he
had her trapped like a fly in his web. “Like how you didn’t write that big hit
song you’re going to perform. It’s a cover from another one of Easter’s bands,
but the song is too good for amateurs so they gave it to you.”
Utau’s violet eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Kairi shrugged, passing back the clipboard. “You never know.”
“Asshole,” Utau growled, but grabbed the board from his hands and scribbled
down her name. “Fine. I’ll work the stupid Kissing Booth.”
Cheekily, Kairi said, “Thank you,” and walked away.
Utau gave his retreating back the finger. Then, the skies just opened up and
she felt like giving Ikuto the finger too. Where the hell was that guy? She ran
back to the school, but was hopelessly soaked by the time she reached shelter.
Standing beneath an overhang, looking out at the rain, grumbling to herself,
she suddenly wondered when her life had become so strange. There was a time she
probably would have liked working a Kissing Booth, but now… She just worked,
sang, and worried about Ikuto.
Suddenly, she was glad that it was raining. Any water that happened to seep
from her red-rimmed violet eyes could be blamed on the rain.
…
Ikuto waited while Amu put her textbooks away and packed up her homework. He
had never seen such a tidy locker, such a neat little book where she wrote down
all her homework and upcoming assignments. She must have taken her schooling
very seriously. Ikuto did in his own way—he needed to graduate, but he probably
wasn’t going far in his life. All that mattered to him was getting Utau and
himself out of that house. Amu closed her locker and turned to him, nervously
tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“So,” she murmured. “What did you want to talk about?”
Ikuto shook himself. “About this project,” he said, “we have to do it at your
house.”
The color drained from Amu’s face until she looked like a sheet. “N-no,” she
whispered. “We can’t!”
“We can do it when your parents aren’t home if you’re worried about them,” he
lowered his voice, “fighting.”
Amu shook her head desperately. “We can’t do it at my house,” she protested.
“It’ll have to be yours.”
His heart skipped. “No,” he said firmly. “Your house, Amu.”
She shook her head again, so hard he heard her hair whipping through the air.
“No!”
“Amu—”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “I can’t… I can’t have boys over!”
Ikuto wanted to bark at her. ‘No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. If you
come to my house, my step-father may very well take a liking to you and fucking
rape you. Or, even better, he might just rape me. Right. In. Front. Of. You.’
But he held his tongue. That was the rest of his secret that she definitely
didn’t need to know.
For a long moment, they both stared at each other. Surely the other would cave
sooner or later, but neither did.
Finally, with a hard sigh, Ikuto muttered, “Fine.” He’d just have to be very
careful that nothing happened to her and she didn’t see anything.
“And my parents can’t know I’m gone,” Amu said suddenly, her voice frenzied
with panic. “I have to be home before them! And-and-and—”
Ikuto eyed her, suspicious. Rules were one thing—like not having boys over—but
this was getting out of control. Plus, Amu seemed just… terrified of the
thought of crossing her parents. A shadow crossed Ikuto’s heart. The way her
face looked, her fear… There was something achingly familiar about it. It was
something he recognized in his own face, his own behavior, his own life.
He breathed out, “Just what is up with your family?”
Amu’s head jerked up, her golden eyes meeting his sapphire orbs. Then, sharply,
she looked away. Her fingers knotted together to hide their trembling. “It’s…
it’s nothing…” she whispered. “We just… have a lot of rules.”
Ikuto stared at her. “Why?”
“Don’t all families have rules?” Amu asked him, coldly, defensively.
He rolled his shoulders. “I suppose,” he said softly.
He didn’t have any rules at his home—no curfew, no limits, no chores to speak
of. Kazuomi was rich enough to hire a maid, Ikuto was smart with his homework
and studies, and it was hard to have a curfew when you worked from ten at night
to four in the morning. He had few worries other than protecting Utau’s virtue
and keeping the lube well-stocked so his body wouldn’t be hurt too badly. To
most outsiders looking in, his life would have seemed perfect. If only they
knew what happened behind closed doors.
Amu was staring at him, a kinship not unlike pity in her eyes.
Ikuto quickly gathered himself and his composure, hiding and disguising his
emotions. “Let’s go,” he said firmly. “I’ll drive you home.” He glanced at the
clock on the wall. “And then I have to get to work.”
Amu nodded, following him back down the hallway away from her locker. “So,” she
asked softly. “What about the portrait project? When should we meet and where?”
He stopped, fishing through his pockets for a small notebook that he used to
take orders at the café. “Here, write down your phone number.”
“I don’t have a cell phone,” Amu said.
“So write down your house number,” he said.
She stared at him, eyes wide and tragic. “I can’t.”
Ikuto sighed heavily. “Why not?”
“Because… if you call when my parents are home…”
Ikuto held up his hands. “Fine, fine,” he said and then wrote down his address
on the small notebook paper. “I work at ten on Saturdays and my step-dad leaves
the house for work at about nine. That gives us plenty of time to work on this
project.”
“My parents go off to work at eight in the morning and they get home at five so
I have to leave by then,” Amu told him.
“We’ll have to buckle down and get this done,” Ikuto said. “I work all day on
Sunday.”
“Sunday’s no good for me either,” Amu said, nodding in agreement.
Ikuto pushed some hair out of his face. “Alright. Saturday,” he said. “Come
after nine, after my step-dad leaves, okay?”
Amu nodded. “I’ll ride my bike,” she said.
By the time they made their way outside, the threatening cloud cover had burst.
The skies had opened up into a deep cool torrential downpour. Utau was standing
under an overhang outside the school, her hair and school uniform soaking wet.
Thankfully, their school uniform was black and the water had done nothing to
reveal her undergarments. She slid Ikuto some kind of impatient glower, but her
lips quirked into a small smile despite her frustration with the weather and
the waiting.
Ikuto and Amu were walking shoulder to shoulder, close, like friends. Amu was
looking up at Ikuto, a small faint smile on her split lips. Her face was truly
beautiful when it wasn’t caked in makeup. Ikuto was also leaning slightly
towards her because of his height, his eyes had just a little bit of sparkling
happiness in them. They were talking softly, about their shared art class and
how nice it was of the teacher to give them extra time to finish.
Amu even apologized for her injury messing up their time, not that Ikuto was
willing to blame it all on her.
Utau was happy for her brother. She was happy to see him living a little,
smiling a little, and maybe even loving a little like Tsukasa had suggested. At
the very least, he was making a friend. For that, Utau was grateful and
pleased. Despite her soaked clothes, her foul mood immediately melted away.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
Remember, review! But don’t tell me to update…
***** The Bliss of Sleeping Late *****
                                     X X X
Saturday came quickly for Ikuto, maybe too quickly since the week had been
going to well. He treated himself to sleeping in since he had gotten in at four
that morning and didn’t have work until ten that night. He had never felt a
heaven quite like his warm bed, quite like finally catching up on his sleep,
quite so perfect and pleasurable. He sighed softly, burying his face deeper
into his pillow and snuggling into the blankets even as his mind started to
wake up.
Utau’s Halloween Concert (which Ikuto had promised Yukari he would play the
violin at) was coming closer and closer. Kazuomi had been in a good mood
lately—stress-free was always good for Ikuto’s poor body—since they had started
selling her concert tickets and it promised to be a packed house with standing
room only. Utau was constantly at rehearsal, practicing, and Ikuto practiced
the violin at home between shifts.
Life had become busy, but a little bit better—for now.
Ikuto nestled deeper into his bed, breathing softly. Kazuomi hadn’t taken him
in a few days now. He was too mellow over all the money Utau was raking in to
bother fucking Ikuto. But, even so, he was half-waiting for his step-father to
come into his room to take him and half-hoping that he wouldn’t. But until
something happened one way or the other, he wanted to stay in his nice warm
bed. It wasn’t often he allowed himself a treat like this, too sleep in, and he
wanted to enjoy this for as long as it lasted.
…
Utau came out of her bedroom and looked first in the bathroom, then in the
kitchen, and finally in Ikuto’s bedroom for her brother. Surprisingly, he was
still curled up in his bed. His body looked so thin and frail beneath those
white sheets. Softly, Utau closed the door on her brother’s sleeping form.
When she turned, Kazuomi was standing right behind her—like something out of a
horror movie.
A sharp cry escaped her mouth, ragged, frightened.
Ever since Kazuomi had forced his mouth to hers, she began regarding him with
slight fear. But right now, she was more afraid for Ikuto than herself. When he
left for work the night before, he looked worn down to a stump. There were such
deep circles beneath his beautiful blue eyes, red-rimmed and puffy. She had
never seen such an exhausted face. And even now, he was still sleeping. That
alone was very rare for Ikuto and she wanted him to sleep as long as possible.
Kazuomi nudged her aside, reaching for the door.
“Wait!” Utau gasped.
He regarded her silently.
“Please,” she whispered. “Just…”
“What?” he snapped at his step-daughter.
“Please, just… let him sleep for a little while longer?” she murmured.
“Please?”
“Why should I?” Kazuomi asked.
Utau wet her lips, bit them, and hesitated as she tried to think. “Just…
please,” she whispered. “Ikuto is so… he’s so tired… Please just… let him sleep
a little more… before…” She looked sharply away, hot bile rising in the back of
her throat.
Kazuomi watched her, waited.
Utau felt like a mouse with the cat crouched outside her hole in the wall. He
was just waiting for her to peek out so he could snap down on her. She steeled
herself, gripping tight to her courage because Ikuto did so much for her. To
gain him a little more sleep, she could withstand this. She was brave enough if
Ikuto was brave enough. Besides, this was the least she could do to repay him
for all he had done to protect her from Kazuomi—a little more sleep and a
little begging.
“Please,” she choked out, fisting her hands in her skirt tightly. Her fingers
trembled, her palms were sweaty, but she was strong enough. “He… He has a big
project due that he has to finish. His friend is coming over at nine so they
can finish it. So just… please… let him sleep.”
Kazuomi stared at her and then grinned. “Alright,” he said. “What are you going
to do for me, Utau?”
She narrowed her violet eyes at him. “I’ll make you breakfast,” she said
firmly.
Kazuomi laughed. He more than laughed—he tipped his head back and howled with
roaring peals of guffaws.
Utau wanted to hit him in the face, in the balls. She wanted to see him double
over in screaming pain, but she didn’t raise her hand against him. She knew
that whatever she did to him, Ikuto would be punished for. She didn’t want him
to hurt anymore. So, patiently, she waited for her step-father’s laughter to
subside.
Finally, it did. Kazuomi wiped his eyes and straightened his shirt.
“Breakfast?” he repeated.
She nodded sternly.
“Alright, Utau, alright,” he said. “French toast and I’ll leave your precious
brother alone for a while.”
Utau nodded again and turned towards the kitchen. For a moment, she listened
for Kazuomi’s footsteps to follow her down the hall, but there was only
silence. She hesitated, glancing quickly back over her shoulder. Kazuomi was
standing in front of the door, grinning.
Utau had a sudden feeling that she had done something terribly wrong.
…
Like Ikuto, Amu slept late on Saturday. She was exhausted from the effort it
was taking her body to heal her shattered arm along with all her other
injuries. She was always afraid, always walking on eggshells, and the stress
exhausted her too. By the time she woke up, it was after eight and her parents
had already left for work.
She dragged herself out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. She started
the hot water, pulled a plastic bag up over her cast and tied it off securely,
and stripped out of her pajamas. She wasn’t sure what drew her eyes to the
mirror and her reflection there, but she did turn to look. For a moment, she
stared—uncomprehending—at the face reflected in there. Was that really her?
Could that really be her? When did her face start looking… like this mask? When
did her body start looking… so dead?
Her back was covered in welts and bruises. The shape of her father’s boot was
imprinted against her hipbone. Her mother’s acrylic nails had left marks on her
wrists and shoulders and upper arms. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed from
crying herself to sleep. Her rosy hair was lackluster and limp, sticking to her
cheeks. The split in her lower lip was ugly and bloody, her right eye had pale
yellow bruises around it, and her skin was waxen pale.
She looked like she had in her dream, in her nightmares.
Shuddering, Amu got into the shower and stood beneath the steaming water.
Slowly, some of the tension washed from her back and shoulders, melting and
swirling away down the drain. She washed her hair until it shone, scrubbed her
face until the last dregs of makeup were gone, and relaxed in the shower.
Then, a new tension worked its way into her body.
She had to go to Ikuto’s house to work on their portraits of each other. Not
only was she worried about being alone with the strange boy who had threatened
yet helped her, but she was also afraid that her parents would find out. They
would remind her that Ami would never be alone with boys and they might… they
might throw Amu in the dark basement again with that rat.
She shuddered, hugging herself tightly with her one good arm.
Her heart throbbed with concern and something she didn’t want to admit. She
found that she was kind of looking forward to seeing Ikuto. She had never had a
real friend, never allowed herself that, but there was something about Ikuto
that was like her. She sensed that she and Ikuto had something in common,
something that hid itself in shadows. They couldn’t really be friends, but at
least when she was with Ikuto she felt… She felt like herself. She didn’t feel
like the leftover remains of Ami.
Amu shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping herself tightly
in a towel.
She made her way back to her room and selected her favorite pair of worn-to-
perfect-fade jeans, pulling them on over her hips. The denim was soft and
feather-light and she sighed happily as she slipped a belt through the loops.
She was getting too thin for her jeans. Then, she selected a t-shirt emblazoned
with angel wings on the back, but took it off and put on another. She changed
her shirt a few times, but finally put the angel wing shirt back on.
Then, she grabbed a messenger bag from her closet for all her art supplies and
slung it over her shoulder. She grabbed a few dollars off her dresser and
tucked them into her bra, just in case.
She headed downstairs, but lingered in the threshold of the kitchen. She wasn’t
sure she trusted Ikuto—if she wanted to be alone and unarmed with him in his
house all day. Yes, he had helped her, but… he was still strange to her. So,
she went back upstairs to her parents’ bedroom and took her father’s
pocketknife from his nightstand. This, she tucked into the pocket of her jeans.
Then, she was ready to leave.
It was eight-thirty and she was supposed to be at Ikuto’s by nine. She had
plenty of time to get there.
She got on her bike and put the weather-beaten white house behind her.
The sky was a wonderful shade of blue, the sun was shining, and the birds were
singing happily. The grass was dewed and bright green from the last few days’
rain. The air smelled fertile, as if flowers could be grown in it. It was a
beautiful bright day, not a dark rainy one. Nothing bad could happen on a day
like this…
Right?
                                     X X X
Oh no! A sort of cliffhanger. What’s going to happen? I have a baaaaaaad
feeling.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Kazuomi's Cruel Plan *****
Happy Friday the Thirteenth!
                                     X X X
Hoshina Kazuomi did as Utau had begged him. He sat at the kitchen table,
patient and uncomfortable with his throbbing erection, while she prepared
breakfast. She set a plate of French toast down in front of him and he noticed
it was positively heaped with food. Maybe she thought that the longer she kept
him eating, the longer her poor precious Ikuto would get to sleep. Either way,
Kazuomi sat at the table and ate patiently, enjoying both the meal and the
thought of what he had planned.
Eight-thirty drew closer and closer. Utau began to look at the clock nervously,
her small hands beginning to tremble. Yukari would be there at eight-thirty to
pick the young idol up and take her to the studio. All she had lately was
rehearsal, practice, rehearsal, practice, rehearsal in preparation for her
concert close to Halloween. Utau’s stalling was drawing to a close.
Finally, she said softly, “I have to get dressed. Yukari will be here soon.”
Kazuomi nodded, smiling and picking at the French toast that remained on his
plate.
Utau bit her lip, hesitating, but she had no choice. She had to leave which
meant she had to leave Ikuto unprotected. She left the kitchen, her footsteps
hurrying away down the hallway. Kazuomi remained at the table for the ten
minutes she took to get dressed and comb her hair. Then, she returned to the
kitchen with her bag slung over her shoulder and her phone clutched in her
hand.
She hesitated again, staring tragically at her step-father. She looked like she
wanted to say something to him. Maybe, ‘Please be gentle with him,’ but the
doorbell rang loudly. Utau whipped her head in the direction of the sound and
then back to Kazuomi, desperate. She lingered, one hand fisted in her stage-
dress, fingers whitening around her phone.
He waved her off. “Go ahead, Utau. Get to work,” he said.
She still hesitated, the pulse in her throat racing.
Kazuomi narrowed his eyes. “Or you’ll make it worse for Ikuto.”
As if he had burned her, she ran to the front door and spilled out into the
bright morning, practically flattening Yukari. Yukari barked at her, steadying
the young idol with one hand. Kairi was in the car, puzzled by Utau’s behavior.
The door slammed shut behind her loudly, echoing through the silent house. It
might have been loud enough to wake Ikuto, to warn him, if he hadn’t been so
exhausted.
Kazuomi dumped his plate in the trash and peeked in on his step-son.
The young man was still sleeping, his pale face peaceful, curled up in the
blankets like a small child. Ikuto was such an extraordinarily beautiful young
man. His dark hair was like black feathers, his eyes looked as if they had been
poured from the deepest sea, and his lashes were long enough to shadow his
face.
Kazuomi closed the door silently and put his plan into action.
While Amu had plenty of time to get to Ikuto’s house and Utau was already off
on her way to work, Kazuomi had a limited window of time to further destroy his
beautiful step-son. He had to be at work at nine and Ikuto’s friend was
supposed to arrive at nine. It was nearly eight-thirty now—that was just a
meager half an hour—but Kazuomi was a fast worker. He knew he would be able to
finish in time.
…
Ikuto was surprised that he had fallen back asleep, but his bed was just too
comfortable and he was just too tired. The next thing he knew, the edge of his
mattress was sinking and he woke with a start. He jolted up. Some fragile
little part of his heart prayed that it was only Utau come to check on him
before she left for rehearsal, but deep down, he knew who it was.
He opened his eyes to Kazuomi’s grinning face. “Hello Ikuto,” his step-father
said.
Ikuto’s heart turned to stone with fear. His eyes rolled wildly to the clock,
but it was just a little before eight-thirty. Kazuomi normally finished raping
him in a few minutes, so he had plenty of time to get himself back together
between the time Kazuomi finished with him and Amu arrived to work on their
portraits of each other.
“Why don’t you get up and come to my room?” Kazuomi said softly.
His voice drew a shiver from Ikuto, but he was helpless to escape now.
Silently, he threw back the covers and stepped out of his once-comfortable-and-
warm bed. He was wearing a t-shirt and cotton pajama pants, barefoot, and goose
bumps rose all over his pale skin as the cold air kissed his skin. Like a man
walking to the gallows, Ikuto left his bedroom and went down the hall to
Kazuomi’s.
His step-father followed, radiating waves of glee.
Ikuto felt like he was going to be sick.
Then, he opened the bedroom door. Kazuomi had a large four-poster bed in the
middle of his room, made up with silk sheets and goose-down pillows. The sheets
were neatly pulled up, made perfectly, and the pillows were fluffed. The bed
looked comfortable at first, until Ikuto saw the handcuffs and the box sitting
beside the bed. His heart skipped, froze, stuttered, and jerked back to life.
He whirled to face his step-father, his blue eyes going wide and desperate.
“Wait,” he gasped. “Please. You don’t have to. I won’t run.”
Kazuomi grinned. “Oh, I know you won’t,” he said and reached out to touch
Ikuto’s face.
The boy shied away, whimpering softly.
“You care to much for Utau to ever really run from me,” he continued.
Ikuto whispered, “Then why…?”
Kazuomi chuckled. “Because I want to. It’s as simple as that.”
He trembled, shuddered.
Then, Kazuomi struck him hard and sudden. With a sharp cry of pain, Ikuto fell
back on the bed. As if the sheets were quicksand about to suck him into a world
with no escape, he desperately tried to get away from the bed. Like a tree,
Kazuomi fell on him, pinning his smaller body with his larger one. Then, faster
than Ikuto could desperately struggle against, he had cuffed his thin frail
wrists to the headboard. Ikuto yanked and struggled, the metal biting into his
thin skin immediately. Hot blood ran down his arms, seeped into his shirt.
With Ikuto bound, Kazuomi stepped back to admire his handiwork. Then, bending
low over Ikuto’s still-clothed body, he feathered his lips over the boy from
throat to hip, nipping painfully at him through his clothes. He whimpered and
squirmed, the shackles carving deeper and deeper into his soft skin. When
Kazuomi slipped his hands beneath Ikuto’s shirt, running his fingers over the
flat pale planes of muscles and ribs, Ikuto closed his eyes tightly and tried
not to feel.
He might have succeeded had he not felt the cold of the scissors that made his
eyes snap open immediately, terror like a stone in his throat. What was Kazuomi
going to do with those blades? Cut him, stab him? Desperately, Ikuto tried to
wriggle aside, but Kazuomi simply cut the t-shirt from the boy’s thin body.
Then, as he had before, he ran his lips over the naked skin. Occasionally, he
found a place of soft thin sensitive skin and sucked until there was hideous
red hickey like a blooming blood-red rose.
Since Ikuto’s ankles were free, Kazuomi merely pulled down his pajama bottoms.
Lying on the bed in his boxers, handcuffed, Ikuto had never felt so vulnerable.
He was afraid, but he bit his lip to stifle his nervous whimpers and cries. He
wouldn’t give Kazuomi the pleasure of hearing him like that. Quickly, Kazuomi
pulled down Ikuto’s boxers, his mouth sucking painfully on the sensitive skin
near his hip and then biting hard. A sharp cry escaped Ikuto and he tried to
yank away.
Kazuomi pulled back, grinning, and shrugged out of his robe. His impatient
erection, which had been waiting since Utau had begged him to let Ikuto sleep,
sprang free eagerly. Ikuto looked away, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to
curl his body close to protect both his nudity and his vulnerable places.
Kazuomi ran his hands down Ikuto’s pale sides, over the hickeys he had left on
the pale skin, over his puckered nipples, over his sensitive shivering
intimates.
Ikuto kept his eyes squeezed shut.
“Look at me,” Kazuomi hissed.
The boy didn’t.
Kazuomi slapped him, hard and fast and sudden. Reeling, Ikuto’s eyes snapped
open. He gazed up at his step-father, his cheek reddening. Kazuomi grinned down
at him, reached into the box beside the bed and pulled out a gag. Ikuto wanted
to look away, but terror held his gaze in place. The gag had two straps to go
around his head, but at the center was a phallus-shaped device meant to go into
Ikuto’s mouth. It was shaped like a dick. Kazuomi brought it towards Ikuto’s
face.
Desperately, he squeezed his lips together and turned his head to the side as
if that would protect him from the encroaching gag. It didn’t. Kazuomi grabbed
his face, fingers digging cruelly into his cheeks. He pried Ikuto’s mouth open
and shoved the phallus past his teeth, choking him and stretching his mouth
wide. Ikuto thrashed, biting down, but the gag was sturdy and did not break
beneath his teeth. He sucked in a desperate breath of air through his nose,
staring wildly up at Kazuomi.
“What do you think?” Kazuomi asked meanly, teasingly. “It’s just like that time
you sucked my dick in my office, right?”
Ikuto looked away, a flush of blood rising up his neck.
His step-father chuckled.
From the box, Kazuomi produced a black silk handkerchief. He dropped it over
Ikuto’s face, but didn’t tie it. Immediately, Ikuto jerked his head to the
side, dislodging the hanky so he could see. By the wideness of his watchful
terrified eyes, Kazuomi knew that blindfolding him would be especially cruel.
Ikuto liked to see what was coming, liked to know what to expect, liked to
prepare himself. Kazuomi folded the silken cloth, grabbed a fistful of Ikuto’s
night-dark hair, and yanked his head up from the mattress.
A sharp cry escaped Ikuto, but it was deliciously muffled by the phallus-gag in
his mouth. Kazuomi swiftly wrapped the black cloth around Ikuto’s head, fixing
it over his eyes. Then, he let Ikuto’s head drop back onto the mattress. Then,
Kazuomi took a step back and watched gleefully as Ikuto thrashed and struggled.
He desperately rubbed his face against his shoulder, trying to pull the
blindfold off, but it didn’t move. Kazuomi had tied it too tightly.
After a moment, pale naked chest heaving, Ikuto went still. Goosebumps quivered
across his flesh, the pulse in his throat raced, and his labored breathing was
loud in the silence of the room. He was waiting, trembling, terrified.
Handcuffed and blindfolded, there was nothing Ikuto could do to free himself.
He was defenseless and he knew it.
Kazuomi ran his hand down Ikuto’s bare chest, cupped his groin a moment so that
Ikuto let out a sharp cry of fear and pain, and then straddled the boy’s body.
He grabbed the tube of lubricant from his nightstand where it had been waiting
all morning and squeezed it hard. The horrible sound it made seemed to comfort
Ikuto. Regardless of the fact that he was blindfolded, he could hear the sound
of the lube leaving the tube. No matter what was happening, at least Kazuomi
was going to prepare him, even a little. His body would not rip. He wouldn’t
bleed.
Kazuomi rubbed the cold lube against Ikuto’s entrance, watching the boy’s body
arch off the mattress in shock and pain. He pushed one finger in, wriggling and
thrusting it. A second and third pushed inside and Ikuto moaned in pain.
Kazuomi curled his fingers, seeking Ikuto’s prostate and pressed against it.
Ikuto jolted, yelping in a mixture of pleasure and pain. “D-don’t,” he begged.
“P-please.”
“Does it feel good?” Kazuomi hissed.
Ikuto didn’t answer, but the flush of blood creeping into his face was answer
enough.
Kazuomi grinned. Then, he looked at the clock and swore.
Ikuto tensed in dread, his head turning frantically.
It was ten of nine. Kazuomi had wasted too much time tormenting Ikuto and now
he had hardly left himself any time for the act. He would have to hurry—not
that he minded taking Ikuto hard and fast. He just wished he had more time.
With a soft sigh, he slammed into Ikuto’s small body to the hilt, tearing a
muffled cry from his lips. He didn’t give him any time to adjust and just
started pounding. Bound as he was, Ikuto’s body writhed helplessly beneath
Kazuomi, jerking with the force of the thrusts.
Kazuomi continued to thrust, grunting like a hog, sweating like a pig.
Conversely, Ikuto looked like a frightened little animal pinned beneath him.
Gagged and bound, peppered with blood-red hickeys, he looked like something
innocent going for slaughter. Kazuomi had never seen such a beautiful arousing
sight. Immediately, he spilled inside Ikuto, his hot seed dripping out.
Ikuto whimpered, squirmed, and shuddered. He hated the feeling of the semen
dripping out of him.
With a content sigh, Kazuomi pulled out of Ikuto and stood up from the bed.
Quickly, he dressed in his slacks and dress shirt for work, knotting his silk
tie easily. He glanced back at Ikuto, curled up defenselessly on the bed.
Smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt and turned away. He headed for the
door.
Ikuto heard the footsteps retreating and made a wordless sound of protest.
Kazuomi stopped, glancing back over his shoulder at his step-son. “Don’t
worry,” he purred. “I’ll untie you…”
Ikuto relaxed a little.
“When I get home from work,” Kazuomi said with a mean chuckle. “And I’ll be
sure to leave the door unlocked for your friend. Maybe if you’re lucky, they’ll
let you loose when they get here… and find you like this.”
Ikuto cried out, desperately, pleadingly, but he was silenced by the gag.
But Kazuomi ignored him and left.
His plan was perfect. So what if Ikuto was starting to live, starting to heal,
and starting to make friends? The moment any of his friends saw him like
this—naked and bound and gagged and stinking of sex and lube, someone’s pretty
little fag rag—their friendship would go down in flames. This would destroy
whatever was left of Ikuto’s pretty little broken glass heart and he would just
be Kazuomi’s precious fucking toy. It was perfect.
                                     X X X
Hmm, what is Amu going to think when she gets to Ikuto’s house and finds him
like that? And you were all wrong. Everyone thought something was going to
happen to Amu, it really happened to Ikuto.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Ikuto's Secret: Pt I *****
Man, work has eaten my life over the weekend. My boss is an asshole, too…
                                     X X X
Amu arrived at Ikuto’s house just as a sleek Mercedes was pulling out of the
driveway. She prayed that the rosebushes in front of the beautiful mansion were
tall enough to hide her, but the man behind the wheel looked right at her as he
passed. He looked a little surprised, but kept on going. Maybe he thought she
was just someone passing by on a bicycle. She hoped that was the case. Just to
be certain, she waited a few more minutes at the bottom of the driveway before
pedaling up to the house.
She rang the bell and waited for several minutes, but no one answered the door.
Ikuto was expecting her, wasn’t he? Maybe he was still asleep? Amu rang the
bell again, waited, but it was still and quiet behind the door. She peeked in
the window and saw that lights were on, but she didn’t see Ikuto.
A third time, she rang the bell.
Nothing. Silence. Stillness.
She put her hand on the knob and the door swung open easily, silently though
she had expected the hinges to creak (not that she knew why she expected that).
“Ikuto?” she called, voice echoing against the walls inside. “Ikuto? Are you
there? Can I come in?”
No one answered.
Amu’s skin crawled. Her heart began to race and pound. “Ikuto?” Finally, she
dredged up the courage and stepped into the house, closing the door softly
behind her. She checked to make sure it didn’t lock automatically, just in case
she had to run for her life. It didn’t and she crept into the beautiful house,
calling Ikuto’s name and occasionally Utau’s.
…
Suddenly, Ikuto heard the doorbell ring.
Then, there was a patient amount of silence as Amu waited for someone to answer
the door. Again, the doorbell rang, followed by more silence. Finally, a third
time and silence. He listened to each ring and following stillness with a
racing heart, unable to speak or see.
He didn’t know whether or not he wanted Amu to come in and find him like this,
to free him, or just leave. He didn’t want anyone to know what was happening to
him, what he was going through, what he allowed to happen to him. He held his
breath, listened.
He heard Amu enter the house, her footsteps soft and her voice loud against the
walls. She was going to come in, she was going to look for him, and she would
most certainly find him. It wasn’t as if he was well-hidden. He was lying right
out in plain sight, naked, bound, and gagged.
He felt sick, but choked back the nausea. He continued to listen, his heart
pounding within the cage of his ribs. Each beat said something different. ‘Find
me, please… No, go away! Help me… Leave me alone! Please, let me out… No, I
don’t want anyone to know my secret!’
B-bump, b-bump, b-bump!
…
The Hoshina mansion was like a museum, like a model home. Amu had a hard time
believing anyone actually lived there. It was too neat, too orderly. There was
a China cabinet filled with Lalique crystal figurines, exquisite porcelains,
and beautiful scalloped China. The remote for the television was lying on the
coffee table as if it had never been used before. There was a bowl of fruit in
the kitchen, a grandfather clock ticking away somewhere, a rack of untouched
magazines, and even a vase of fresh flowers. Everything was too perfect,
unreal, unnatural.
Her heart pounded in her ears as she made her way down the dim hallway, running
her hand along the wall though she was terrified to touch anything lest she
break it. “Ikuto?” she whispered in the silence. Only her own echoing voice
answered her.
The house was silent, still, like a grave.
That was when she heard the sound. In the silence, it was sudden and seemed
painfully loud, but it was muffled and small nonetheless. It was like a little
animal sound, a whimpering puppy or a mewling kitten. Somewhere, something
small and innocent was in pain.
“Ikuto?” she whispered again, hardly able to believe her own voice. As if that
pathetic sound could be coming from that beautiful strange boy.
Slowly, she continued down the hallway. She had been in his house once before
and knew where his sister’s room and the bathroom were. Outside of that, there
could have been a portal to another dimension behind those doors along that
dimly-lit hallway for all she knew.
Timidly, she nudged open one of the doors. It rattled and nearly fell off its
hinges. Desperately, Amu grabbed it and steadied it, peering around the door.
The bed was unmade, blankets thrown aside. Ikuto’s school uniform was lying
over the back of the desk chair, his work uniform on the seat, and his backpack
was lying on the floor. On the desk, placed there reverently, was a worn white
violin case. The room was modestly furnished, but bare of personal traces. It
was clear Ikuto didn’t spend much time in his room.
And right now, the room was empty of all signs and traces of Ikuto.
Amu tried to close the door, but the ruined hinges prevented her. She made her
way down the hallway, opening the door to a linen closet which was also empty
of Ikuto. There was only one door left in the hallway. Again, Amu heard that
small pathetic animal sound. It seemed to be coming from behind the final door.
“Ikuto?” she whispered.
There was no answer.
She put her hand on the knob and slowly, timidly, turned it. She didn’t know
what was on the other side and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but for some
reason, she opened that door anyway. Inside, there was a beautiful four-poster
bed like something out of a fairytale.
Like a nightmare, naked and handcuffed and blindfolded and gagged, lying on
that fairytale bed was Ikuto.
His arms were stretched painfully above his head, cuffed to the headboard. He
must have struggled against the bonds because his wrists were bloody and raw,
drops of blood weaving down his pale arms. The rest of his body was twisted at
an awkward angle to hide his genitals. His dark hair was plastered to his
cheeks and neck and that was really all she could see of his face. Bruised-
black handprints and blood-red hickeys marked his pale body.
For a moment, Amu could only stand there, stunned.
Gagged, Ikuto made a choking sound. It sounded a little like his sister’s name.
Even though it wasn’t her name he had called, Amu swiftly crossed the room to
his side. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch him. When her hands
neared his naked skin, he flinched away as if sensing her proximity. Amu took a
stumbling step backwards, but Ikuto made a muffled sound through the gag that
drew her back. She cautiously touched his face, watched him wince, and then
reached for the silken blindfold that had been fastened over his eyes.
The moment the blindfold fell away, his eyes snapped open and scanned the room
wildly. He met Amu’s eyes immediately, desperately. With this deep wine-dark
eyes, he conveyed to her his fear, his pain, his desire, his shame, his
rage—everything. Amu unfastened the gag from around his head and pulled it out
of his mouth. She was shocked to discover that the gag was long and penile-
shaped, going deep into his throat. He coughed into his shoulder and inhaled
greedily, gasping.
Then, he folded his legs up against his chest, hiding his nudity. For a moment,
neither of them moved or spoke. Then, Amu tried to pull the sheet out from
under his body, intending to cover his nakedness with it, but Ikuto would have
to reveal himself to her in order to free the sheet. He wasn’t going to do
that. He kept his legs drawn against his chest and hid behind them. Goosebumps
prickled across his pale flesh like thorns to protect him.
Realizing it was hopeless to cover him, she took a step back and stared at
him—at the room, at the bruises on his hips and wrists and ankles, at the
phallus she had pulled from his mouth, at the bright red hickeys that peppered
his skin. He kept his eyes angled away from her, looking very much like he felt
like a carnival sideshow freak, resigned and a little shamed. He was prepared
to let her look her fill at him and then he would deal with her questions.
But Amu didn’t speak, didn’t ask him anything.
She couldn’t.
Finally, Ikuto said sharply, “Are you going to let me go?”
Amu jolted, looking guiltily away. “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Just get me loose,” he said.
“Where are the keys for the handcuffs?” Amu asked him.
Ikuto opened his mouth, closed it, and looked away. “I don’t know,” he
confessed finally. “Look around for them.”
Amu nodded and went to the nightstand, opening the drawers slowly and going
through them with patience. Ikuto noticed her hands were trembling badly as she
rifled through the drawers. She lifted out a tube of lube, stared at it a
moment, and shoved it back into the drawer. Her face was pale—was this why
Ikuto had been buying lube in the pharmacy that day? Was this his true secret?
But she didn’t find the keys in the nightstand drawer.
“W-where else should I look?” she asked him softly.
Ikuto shifted, craning his neck to look around. “Try the box,” he said, but
hated himself even as he spoke those words. God only knew what other disgusting
sex toys Kazuomi had in that box.
Amu’s hands shook worse, but she did as he asked. From the box she produced
dildos, lubricants, chains and whips, another two pairs of handcuffs, cock
rings, condoms, plugs, even an enema kit, and a horrifying collection of things
she didn’t even want to know the purpose of. At the very bottom of the box,
beneath a velveteen blindfold, she found a small ring of keys.
“Did you find them?” Ikuto asked her. His eyes had grown wider with terror as
she rummaged through the box in search of the keys to the cuffs. Did his
stepfather plan to use all those things on his poor violated body?
Amu nodded, jingling the keys. She knelt on the edge of the bed, leaning over
Ikuto’s naked body to reach where his wrists had been handcuffed to the
headboard. It took her a few tries to find the correct key and unlocked the
cuff from his bloodied wrist. He pulled the wrist down against his chest,
cradling it, while she freed his other hand. He immediately curled up on his
side, his back to her, holding his battered wrists to his chest.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, finally, Ikuto broke the deafening silence.
                                     X X X
I wanted the next part to all be in one chapter so stay tuned for part two!
(This is technically another cliffhanger, I suppose.) I loved the way this
whole thing came out—what a way to find out Ikuto’s secret, eh, Amu? They’re
both going to be traumatized for life, now!
I actually wasn’t quite ready for Amu to find out Ikuto’s secret, but this was
the perfect opportunity to reveal it. Plus, I’m over thirty chapters and no one
knows anything yet so I figure it’s time to get the ball rolling a little bit.
So, actually, I was ready. This was exactly how I wanted it to come out. Hehe…
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Ikuto's Secret: Pt II *****
Aristicus/Colton Sims: Thank you so much for the wonderful review. I’m honored
you think so highly of the topics I write, how I write, and what I write. This
chapter goes out to you.
I debated and whined and fussed over this chapter. I didn’t want it to be too
fluffy or too trusting right away so I reined it in a little. I think it came
out just perfect, but I might be the only one who thinks that. Oh well—on with
the show!
                                     X X X
Sunlight sparkled beyond the glass. The day was bright and perfect, beautiful.
The silence was still and profound—even the birds had stopped singing outside.
Everything was waiting… waiting to see what would happen next… Ikuto’s voice
was sudden, loud in that stillness, and startled Amu. The keys to the cuffs,
which she had been clutching in her small shaking hands like an anchor, slipped
from her fingers and clattered on the floor loudly. He glanced at her, grabbed
a fistful of the sheets, and yanked them up around his body. Cocooned within
that safety, he turned to face her wholly.
“Well?” was all he said. His voice was bitter, defensive, cold. It was clear he
expected some kind of painful and brutal judgment from her.
Just as simply, Amu asked, “W-why?”
Ikuto looked sharply away. “None of your business,” he growled out.
She bent to pick up the keys again, clutching them like a lifeline. “I thought
you weren’t… gay…”
He glanced at her, dark eyes darting. What did she mean by that exactly?
Amu shuddered, hesitation, but finally whispered, “Do you…” she paused, “like
it?”
“No!” he shouted, jerking aside as if she had struck him.
The girl flinched at the loudness of his voice, fear lining her face.
Softly, he repeated, “No…”
“Then… why?” she murmured.
“I have to,” he said softly.
Silence spread between them. Amu was sitting on the edge of the mattress, her
back half-turned to Ikuto, holding the keys to the cuffs in her lap. Ikuto was
seated on the other side of the bed, wrapped tightly in the silken sheets of
the bed. His body hurt, ached and throbbed, but his heart was pounding like a
drum. He was afraid of what she would think, of what she would say, and most of
all, what she would do with her knowledge of him. If she tried to tell the
authorities, Kazuomi would destroy her—just as he had threatened to obliterate
Nikaidou Yuu if he dared cross him.
Amu wet her lips and finally whispered, “That… must be… terrible.”
Of all the things he had been expecting her to say, that was not one of them.
Ikuto’s head jerked up, his blue eyes wide and surprised. For a moment, he just
stared at her, unable to speak or even think. Amu’s pale face was soft, her
expression pained, and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears of empathy. He
hadn’t expected those words out of all the things she could have said to him.
He had even expected her to say, ‘I’m sorry,’ even though it had nothing to do
with her.
He had expected her to be disgusted, to get up and leave—maybe even to run.
He had expected her to pity him, to sympathize with him like Utau did.
He had expected her to blackmail him, to threaten him.
Maybe he had even expected her to try to help him, to encourage him to turn his
step-father in to the authorities.
But those words… to outright just say that it must have been a terrible thing
to go through and that was all she said… It was neither pity nor disgust nor a
threat. Nor did it say in any way, shape, or form that he was the one who had
done something wrong. It was simply a fact, a cold and hard one at that. It was
something that just… was. Ikuto found himself unable to respond to that.
So, he simply said, “Yeah… it is,” and nodded slowly.
When Amu reached out, hesitated, and then lay her hand on his where it was
resting on the mattress beside his thigh, he didn’t pull away. That both
surprised and pleased him—usually after he had been taken, he couldn’t stand to
be touched, even by Utau. After a moment, he shifted his hand and squeezed her
fingers tightly. He found that once he had accepted her touch, he even seemed
to cling to it. The thought of letting go was something he didn’t want to think
about right now.
His fingers trembled, then his shoulders, but the tremor did not spread through
his entire body as it usually would have. Amu’s presence was appearing to hold
it back, to comfort him on some strange unknown level. Comfortably, she
reclined against him, her back against his, not looking at him and he was
grateful for that. The only comforting touched either allowed each other was
that connection of their held hands. Again, Ikuto squeezed her fingers and she
returned the gentle pressure.
…
After a long time, what felt like an eternity, Ikuto gave Amu’s hand one final
squeeze and then let go. Still wrapped in the sheet, he crossed the room to the
threshold, the fabric rustling like a ghostly presence. He stopped in the
doorway and gestured for Amu to follow him. His wrist was so raw, so bloody, so
bruised, and his fingers looked like the pale upturned legs of a dead spider.
Even still, Amu followed.
With a swift glace at the soiled bed, Amu darted to his side, her fingers
tangling in the sheet at his hip. For a moment, he looked at her, his lips
slightly parted, and he seemed to want to say something to her. But he finally
shook his head and turned away. Like a pair of wandering spirits, they walked
down the hallway together to Ikuto’s bedroom.
“Wait here a moment,” he murmured and ducked inside the shadowed room. With
practiced ease, he closed the door even on its ruined hinges. How long had his
bedroom door been destroyed? He wasn’t safe, especially in his own bed.
Amu stood outside, her fingers twisted in her t-shirt.
Ikuto… was being raped by his step-father. That was why he had been buying
lubricant in the pharmacy that day—to make it easier on his poor thin body.
What a horrible thing. But, it was not unlike her life at home. Both of them
were in pain, unsafe in their own homes, at the hands of their own parents.
But… unlike Ikuto, who was being hurt when he was so strange and kind, Amu knew
she was a horrible person who deserved everything that happened to her.
She trembled, her heart throbbing, racing until she thought it might explode.
She was beginning to really enjoy being around Ikuto, but… what if he found out
about her? What if he found out what a terrible person she really was? What if
he discovered her secret—that she had lived while Ami had died? That she had
somehow stolen her little sister’s life?With a creak, Ikuto opened the door
again. It swung sideways, crooked, yawning like a mouth.
Ikuto had dressed himself in jeans and a dark long-sleeved t-shirt as if to
shelter himself within the protection of clothing though his feet were bare. He
was carrying the sheet over his arm, his wine-dark eyes unreadable as he tossed
it back into his step-father’s room and closed the door with a too-loud bang.
Then, he gestured to Amu again, his lips twitching as he tried to smile at her
but failed.
She followed him to the bathroom. She stood at his shoulder, watching, as he
bathed his raw red wrists in the sink. Tenderly, he washed away the dried blood
though his hands trembled wildly. He seemed to want to scrub himself, to scrub
his skin until it was raw and red and bleeding anew, but he resisted that urge.
Finally, he finished and dabbed his wrists dry with some toilet paper. From the
medicine cabinet, he retrieved a box of Band-Aids and applied a few to the
largest deepest cuts on his wrists.
Again, he gestured to her and they walked down the hallway to the living room
where Amu had left her bag of art supplies. Ikuto picked it up for her,
shouldering it quietly. Then, he led her through the house to a small foyer.
Tiffany lamps filled the entire room with light and color, made it seem like a
dream, like a shelter, and the walls were painted butter-yellow like sunlight
with shining hardwood floors. Ikuto’s sketch pad and supplies had already been
spread out at the large mahogany table in the room.
Amu gasped softly as she looked around the room.
“It’s my favorite room in the house,” Ikuto offered softly.
“It’s lovely,” Amu breathed.
“Those are real Tiffany lamps,” he said almost bitterly. “My step-father spares
no expense. We have to keep up,” he hesitated and finally said, “appearances.”
“I’m sorry,” Amu murmured.
“It’s not your fault,” Ikuto said a little coldly.
Amu flinched.
“Sorry,” he mumbled out.
Silence spread between them, each thinking something different. Amu’s heart was
racing. She was nervous, afraid—what if Ikuto found out the truth about her?
Ikuto was just as concerned and a little bit frustrated with himself. He just
kept screwing up and barking at her especially since she had done nothing to
deserve his coldness. He should be especially kind to her since she had just
learned everything about him that he would rather have taken to his grave. Both
heaved in a deep breath.
“Well,” Ikuto tried to salvage, “we should probably start working on our
portraits of each other.”
Amu nodded, keeping her golden eyes averted from his gaze.
Ikuto resisted the urge to slap himself. How thick could he possibly be?
He sat at the table suddenly, sending pencils rolling across the gleaming
polished wood. He grasped a few, sweeping them into a heap in front of his
sketch pad. Amu hesitated a moment and Ikuto tried not to look at the empty
chair beside himself. But he realized that he must have truly screwed up
because she slipped into the chair across from him and began silently taking
supplies out of her bag. In silence, they both sketched for a while. All Ikuto
did was erase, but Amu appeared to be making progress, having only picked up
her eraser a few times so far.
Outside, the birds were singing and all seemed right with the world.
Ikuto thought he was going to go crazy with Amu’s silence, broken only by the
scratch-scratch of her pencil on her paper. He wanted to know what she thought
about all this. Surely her mind was racing with questions, but she hadn’t asked
him anything. She wasn’t even looking at him in a strange way. Her golden eyes
were simply nervous, darting away whenever she dared meet his eyes. Maybe Ikuto
had put her off—he had snapped at her, after all, telling her it was none of
her business what and why this was happening.
“Listen, Amu,” he began at the same moment she said softly, “Um, Ikuto…”
Both stopped speaking immediately, wanting to know what the other was about to
say.
Ikuto refused to speak, forcing Amu to continue.
“Um,” she murmured. “Will you… tell me anything… about this? Or should I just…
not ask?”
Ikuto hesitated, teeth digging into his lower lip as he thought. “I suppose…
that depends on what you want to know,” he said finally.
Now, Amu hesitated, her gaze darting nervously.
“If you want to know something,” Ikuto said, “just ask. I’ll decide if I want
to answer it or not, okay?”
“Okay,” Amu said, nodding.
Silence stretched between them a moment. Ikuto glanced up from the terrible
portrait he had drawn to her pretty but makeup-covered face. Amu’s nose didn’t
really look like that, did it? She had a cute little button nose, but what he
had drawn on her face looked more like a pig’s snout. He erased half of her
nose and tried again, trying to seem patient as the painful nerve-wracking
silence just went on and on.
Finally, Amu asked, “Well… how long?”
Ikuto’s fingers tightened on the pencil, both startled by the sound of her
voice after such a long silence and unnerved by her question. For a moment, he
feared he’d break the pencil in his hands. Finally, he composed himself and
spoke. “Since my mother died when I was ten,” he said softly.
“Ten years old?” Amu whispered.
Ikuto nodded.
Silence spread between them again, but Ikuto didn’t have the patience to wait
for her to speak again. It was as if the floodgates inside of him had been
opened and all his pain just came pouring out. Amu already knew his secret so
what did it matter if he told her? If he told her everything?
And so, Ikuto did. He confessed everything.
And Amu listened, captivated.
“After my father died, my mother remarried. We needed the money because Dad had
died slowly, from cancer, and the bills that were left in his wake were so
high. So, she married Kazuomi, the chairman and owner of Easter Corporation. My
mother was beautiful enough to have anyone she wanted and Kazuomi has a face
like granite. A woman had never even smiled at him before. He was instantly
smitten with her, but then, he found out about us and everything changed.
“He didn’t want someone else’s children, especially not children like us. My
father was Tsukiyomi Aruto, a violinist, and there was no lack of his genes in
Utau and I. Utau has the voice of an angel, can sing anything. And I… I have my
father’s gift—the violin. Kazuomi though… he hates music. My mother was strong,
stronger than I ever could have known at the time. I’m not sure I even want to
know the things she did to protect us or what my step-father did to her when no
one was watching.
“She protected us until she died. She got sick and then, she just wasted away.
I miss her, but I know she’s happy with my father somewhere. Besides, I could
never wish her back into this life. After my mother’s funeral, Kazuomi took my
father’s violin from me and locked it away. He took something treasured from a
child so soon after losing his mother,” Ikuto made a hard sound, “He’s such a
sick bastard. That night was when everything started.”
Amu gasped hard, her breath sticking in her throat.
Ikuto glanced at her, his eyes dark and deep, filled with emotion.
“I got up to get a drink or something—I can’t really remember. I was awake, I
had been up crying, but it wasn’t that late. It was maybe midnight, maybe even
eleven. I got up to get a drink of water and I heard him on the phone with
someone. He was talking about Utau, about the things he’d like to do with her.
I only understood half of what those words meant and I didn’t want to know
about the others. I decided then that I couldn’t let him hurt her. She’s my
little sister and I’m her big brother. I have to protect her. So I did.”
Softly, as if his voice would wake the dead, Ikuto continued, “And for seven
years, I’ve been protecting her. I will never let Kazuomi touch her, but I
never… I never told her the real truth until recently. I wanted her to think
Kazuomi had chosen to hurt me, not that I had chosen to be hurt in her place. I
didn’t know what she would think of that—how she would react to something like
that. When I finally told her, she seemed… stunned. She went and sat in the
bath with all her clothes on for a long time. I’m not sure how long because I
had to go to work.
“I work the night shift at the café because it’s the only free time I have,
even though I should probably spend it sleeping. After school, I have to take
care of Utau—take her to rehearsal and the studio and her concerts—and I try to
keep my grades up, not that they really matter to me. I have to work because… I
need the money. Once I turn eighteen and graduate, I’m getting Utau and myself
out of this hell-house. I figure that the money I’m making now will be enough
to get us through the first month on our own. After that, I can do whatever I
need to. I will never allow us to come back here again.”
Long painful silence spread between them. Ikuto’s voice seemed to echo within
it, bouncing and reverberating off the walls of the brightly-lit foyer.
Amu was unable to speak for the longest time.
Ikuto found that he wasn’t eager to hear her say anything.
The silence became almost… comfortable, once the echoes of Ikuto’s pain stopped
ringing in the lovely butter-yellow room. Outside, the birds were had once
again begun singing as if nothing horrible had ever happened and the sun was
shining brightly, drying the dew on the grass.
When Amu spoke, she said only, “Could I… maybe see what you drew?”
Ikuto’s first reaction was to snap at her, defend himself, but he bit back the
urge. Instead, he confessed, “It’s not very good…”
Amu nodded, her eyes bright. She didn’t care what it looked like, she just…
wanted to see.
Ikuto turned the page towards her so she could see what he had drawn. He saw
her eyes widen and nearly pulled it away, ashamed, but forced himself to hold
it steady. He had drawn somewhere between a girl and a pug-like little monster
with a snubbed up nose. Amu lifted her small fingers to her lips and he
realized she was hiding a small smile behind them. Oh, was she laughing at him?
His heart skipped, his eyebrows drawing together in frustration.
“What do you want from me?” he grumbled out. “I’m a musician!”
Amu giggled, unrestrained, and the sound was beautiful.
Ikuto couldn’t remember the last time someone had laughed in this house. Maybe
Kazuomi had laughed when he had taken Aruto’s violin from Ikuto’s young hands,
but—Amu’s laugh was sweet and merely happy. It was not a cruel sound.
Infectious, Ikuto’s lips curved a little in response.
“Oh, funny is it?” he teased. “Let’s see what you drew Picasso!”
Amu flushed, but lifted her paper so he could see as well.
For one stunned moment, Ikuto thought he was staring into a mirror. (Well, a
mirror that reflected his perfect face with a bald hairless dome.) His own eyes
stared out from the paper, right into him. He was amazed by her hidden talent.
“Wow,” was all he was able to say.
Amu giggled a little. “I’m having a little trouble with your hair. I don’t
suppose you’d consider shaving your head just for this project so I can turn it
in bald.”
Ikuto scowled lightly. “Not on your life!”
She bit her lip, trying to hold back a laugh, but was unable to. Once she had
let go and started laughing, Ikuto soon followed and was unable to stop.
Outside, the birds stopped singing as if shocked by the sound of so much
normalcy and happiness coming out of that hellishly-beautiful mansion.
                                     X X X
Wow, this chapter came out so long, but I love it. So, Amu now knows Ikuto’s
secret and Ikuto is feeling a little better. We’re making progress.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Before a Busy Weekend *****
Aristicus: It actually really doesn’t take me long to write a chapter. Maybe…
between half an hour to an hour depending on what else I’m trying to do at the
time (like eat).
Man, work ate my life this weekend. I swear, I have slept about an accumulated
three hours since Friday. We had a big event on Friday and I wound up going in
early to decorate and a friend grappled me into getting my hair done and then
we had to stay really late. So I didn’t update on time. Did anyone notice and
miss me?
This turned into kind of a filler chapter on me. I need to get the ball rolling
a little bit. I need to get to next weekend—so next chapter, minor time skip.
                                     X X X
Amu had enjoyed the time she spent with Ikuto, studying his face, drawing him.
Once Ikuto had admitted his poor art skills, he was a lot freer with his
portrait of Amu. The end result still didn’t look much like her face, but it
would probably get him a passing grade. Conversely, Amu’s portrait of Ikuto
looked almost like a photograph except for the hair. His hair hadn’t come out
too well. They spent much of the day together and when Amu looked at the clock,
she realized with a surge of panic that it was almost four.
Her parents would be home at five and if they didn’t find her waiting in the
sparkling-clean house with dinner on the table, they might—her hand slid over
the cast on her shattered arm, trembling. “I…” she whispered suddenly. “I have
to get home.”
Ikuto glanced at his phone to find the time. “I’ll drive you,” he offered.
“It’ll be faster.”
“But I rode my bike here,” she protested. “You can’t put it in the Jaguar.”
Ikuto snorted. “If something happens to that car, my step-father can buy three
more. Trust me, it’s fine.”
“But—”
“Amu, it’s fine,” he repeated.
Slowly, she nodded. “Alright.”
“I’m glad we got finished in time,” Ikuto said as he packed up his strewn art
supplies and carefully put away his portrait of Amu.
She nodded again. “Me too.”
Ikuto shouldered her bag for her like a gentleman and carried it out to the
Jag. She fetched her bike from outside, rolling it into the garage. Then, Amu
clambered into the passenger seat after he opened the door and set the bag in
her lap. Ikuto popped the trunk, wedged the bike in, and slammed it. Then, he
circled the car and slid behind the wheel. She saw him wince, a soft sound of
pain escaping his mouth, but neither of them said anything about what had
caused that pain.
“Well,” Ikuto said over the hum of the garage door opening. “Do you want to
grab a bite to eat? It can be my treat.”
Amu shook her head. “I need to get home,” she said, hand sliding over her arm
again.
Ikuto eyed her. “How did that happen?” he asked finally.
When she had first come to school with her shattered arm in a cast, Ikuto had
been the only one who hadn’t asked her what had happened and she had been
grateful for that. Now, it was clear he hadn’t quite believed what she had told
the others—a bad fall.
She jolted. “What?”
“Your arm,” he repeated. “How did that happen?”
Her golden eyes shifted sidelong. “I’m really clumsy,” she confessed. “I…” What
had her parents always said about lying convincingly? Tell a lie close to the
truth so it’s easier to remember. For a moment, she couldn’t remember the lie
she had told. All she could remember was the darkness, the rat, the punishment…
Her heart thundered and her mouth ran dry, but finally, her voice returned. “I
fell down the basement steps.”
Ikuto regarded her silently a moment and then said, “Must have been some fall.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
Silence spread between them. Ikuto found that he didn’t want to drop Amu off at
home. He had enjoyed their time together, enjoyed confessing all his secrets
and pain, and now he didn’t want their time together to end. He wanted to keep
her with him, near him. He wanted to keep talking with her, laughing with him.
He had never really had a true friend before and, though it was probably a bit
pathetic, he could consider Amu his friend in however strange a way.
“Are you sure you don’t want to grab a bite to eat?” he asked again.
Amu shook her head. “No, I really have to get home.”
“Alright,” he relented.
When Amu’s home came into view—the white paint long ago gone yellow, the
windows sparkling clean, the grass a little overgrown from the rain, a child’s
swing hanging from the tree in the yard—he made a soft sound in his throat. Amu
glanced at him, trying to weigh his expression. It was almost… wistful as if he
was thinking of the time he had had a loving family and a worn but lived-in
house like this. If only Amu’s life was what he thought it was.
He pulled into the driveway and put the Jag in park. Amu got out, closing the
door gently but Ikuto slammed his so hard she thought there might have been
something living inside the door that he wanted to kill. He circled the car,
popped the trunk, and heaved her bicycle out. Slinging her satchel over her
shoulder, Amu took her handlebars of her bike and pushed it into the garage.
Then, she returned to Ikuto’s side and spent a silent moment just looking at
him.
“Well,” Ikuto said finally, breaking the silence. “I guess I should be going. I
have to work at ten.”
Amu nodded, her pale rose-colored hair tickling her face. “Yeah, and I have to…
make dinner and clean.”
They hesitated, standing a few feet away from each other, lingering. It was
clear neither was quite ready to go, but they both had to. Finally, Ikuto took
a step back from her, lifted his pale hand in a small wave of farewell, got
back into the Jaguar, and was gone into the golden afternoon. Amu watched the
Jag’s taillights fade into the distance. Then, she swiftly pulled herself
together and hurried into the house. Maybe, if she was good—her parents would
care for her and maybe she could even be friends with Ikuto—but only if she was
good.
So, she set to work.
…
Kairi had spent all Saturday at home, pouring over the ideas for the school
carnival. He had spent the week putting the finishing touches on all his ideas,
conscripting students to work the many booths, and renting some equipment such
as a cotton candy machine, a dunking booth, and even a few small and easily-
manned rides. Next weekend, he would have to put all his plans into action.
“In hindsight,” Kairi muttered to himself. “I should have blackmailed Utau into
giving a small concert instead of working the kissing booth.” He gnawed at the
end of his pencil and stared down at all the phone numbers, fees, information,
and sign-ups he had scrawled all over his notepad. “At least everything is
almost ready,” he relented, cutting himself some slack.
Kairi stretched his arms over his head, groaning as his shoulders popped and
cracked loudly. He had been sitting at the coffee table, thinking and muttering
to himself, for far too long. He dragged himself to his feet and made his way
to the kitchen, leaving all his many papers lying on the coffee table. It was
about four-thirty and Yukari wouldn’t be home until much later, not until
Utau’s rehearsal was over.
His sister was working too hard on Utau’s Halloween concert. Her pretty face
was so lined and tired, dark circles beneath her eyes. Kairi couldn’t help but
worry about her but there really wasn’t anything he could do to help his
sister. She was an adult, after all. But there were some things he could do to
help—he could clean the house, he could cook dinner, he wouldn’t trouble her.
So, Kairi made himself a sandwich and cleaned up his dishes. After that, he got
in the shower, shrugged into his pajamas, turned the television being sure to
keep the volume low so as not to disturb the neighbors, and went back to his
paperwork on the school carnival.
Later that night, Yukari arrived home, dead-tired to the core of her bones. She
called out, “I’m home,” when she entered.
There was no answer.
“Kairi?” Yukari called, hanging her purse on the peg by the door. “Kairi?”
She moved quietly through the apartment, searching for her little brother. He
was slumped at the coffee table, his head pillowed on his folded arms, sleeping
in the strewn pages of his carnival notes. His breath was light, fluttering the
edges of his notepad. Yukari smiled softly at him, knelt down, and shook him
gently.
“Kairi,” she said. “Wake up, silly. You can’t sleep here.”
Kairi groaned, his eyes fluttering open. “Sis?”
“What are you doing sleeping here?”
He sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around rather perplexed. “I… I was just
going to close my eyes for a minute.”
Yukari patted his back. “Well, I think it was for way more than a minute. You
have print on your cheek.”
Kairi rubbed his face sleepily. “Really?”
Yukari nodded. “Why don’t you go sleep in your bed?”
“Right,” Kairi said blearily. He got to his feet and padded off down the
hallway to his room. A moment later, Yukari heard water run as he brushed his
teeth and then his door shut softly. The apartment was silent after that and
darkness had fallen outside the window.
Yukari sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh. She cleared a small space on
the coffee table and put her feet up. She was so tired, but she couldn’t even
begin to imagine how Utau was feeling. That girl had been working herself to
the bone—singing, dancing, practicing, doing it day in and day out. Her face
was pale, her throat thin, and she looked like a ghost. Somehow, this made her
even more beautiful. She was becoming like a porcelain doll, heart-breaking
fragile and lovely. Yukari wished there was something she could do for Utau,
anything to help her, but Utau was out of reach—untouchable.
Yukari sighed again, tipping her head back and closing her tired aching eyes.
On Saturday, it was time for Kairi’s fundraising carnival.
And Sunday was Utau’s Halloween Concert.
Things were going to get busy.
…
Tsumugu and Midori were sitting at the table, enjoying the dinner Amu had
prepared. They chatted softly, practically ignoring Amu, but Amu was grateful
for that. She sat quietly, eating, thinking about the day she had spent with
Ikuto and how he had told her all his secrets. She had never had a real friend
before nor did she think she was permitted one. Having friends was something
Ami would have done and therefore Amu was forbidden.
She sighed softly, sadly, but Ikuto seemed like such a nice person. He deserved
a friend, someone for him to share his secrets with. Someone he could trust,
someone who could be honest with him, someone who could be his ally. And Amu
couldn’t be that person. She was a bad person, deserving of punishment and pain
and suffering. She would never be worthy off a real friend, worthy of being
sweet strange kind Ikuto’s friend.
“Amu,” Midori said suddenly.
She jolted. “Y-yes, Mom?”
“Easter Corporation is having a Halloween concert. Meikyuu Butterfly is going
to perform,” Midori said.
“Utau is?” Amu murmured.
“What?” Tsumugu snapped.
“N-nothing!” Amu gasped. “What about the concert?”
“It’s on Sunday,” Midori continued. “Would you like to go?”
Amu nodded, her mind immediately going to Ikuto and Utau. “That would be
wonderful,” she whispered.
Midori smiled. “I thought you’d like that.”
“Then it’s settled,” Tsumugu said. “Next Sunday, we’ll go to the concert.”
“That would be nice,” Amu said with a smile.
Talking happily, softly, just like they used to when they were a family—back
when Ami was alive—for a while. Amu was happy. She had never felt so much
happiness before and she couldn’t help but feel that things were finally going
to look up. Maybe, she was being better and they would love her. Maybe, she
could even be friends with Ikuto and Utau.
But… next weekend was going to be busy.
                                     X X X
Who missed me? I was gone like… three whole days…
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Ikuto and Utau's Problem *****
I ran out of chapters in hock and my insomnia is acting up. I’m really tired…
and a little grumpy. I don’t want to go to work.
                                     X X X
The school week passed quickly and normally with very little out of the
ordinary.
Everyone was excited about Halloween, discussing costumes, parties, candies,
scares, and upcoming horror films. Kairi’s Halloween carnival was all arranged
to go according to plan, but the class president wasn’t taking it easy.
Students were also chattering about Meikyuu Butterfly’s concert that weekend,
something that made Utau blush faintly each time she heard her stage name. She
was excited for the concert and for Ikuto to perform with her on stage with
their father’s violin. Ikuto watched her with a smile and also watched
cautiously over Amu. Saaya had begun to associate Amu with Ikuto and was
leaving the poor girl alone. All of Saaya’s cronies were following her lead.
Amu was protected under his wing. Their fragile friendship was also blossoming
in their shared art class, just a little.
Soon, the weekend had arrived—almost, that is.
…
Friday afternoon, all the students streamed from the classroom as if it was
time for summer vacation. With how excited they were about All Hallows Eve
weekend, you’d think everyone lived in Salem or some other place where
Halloween, witchcraft, and black cats were all a part of everyday life.
Utau was just as excited at the rest of them, practically dancing on the tips
of her toes as she walked beside her brother. She was positively walking on
air. Amu walked on Ikuto’s other side, slowly and limping slightly, holding her
broken arm close against her side so that the other students wouldn’t jostle
it.
Ikuto, walking between them, felt conversely like their protector and that they
were protecting him. Each step sent a shard of hot pain shooting up his spine,
nearly prying whimpers from his lips. Occasionally, Utau’s fingers brushed his
hand comfortingly and every so often, Amu bumped against his side. Her body was
so warm. Occasionally, they glanced up at him and smiled. He found himself
smiling in return to both of them. He had never felt quite so comforted and
happy.
They walked together for a while and then Amu peeled off to go to the buses.
Ikuto and Utau continued out into the parking lot where Ikuto had parked the
Jaguar. The sky was wide, endlessly clear and bright blue. It looked like the
weather would be perfect for the carnival and the concert that weekend (though
the weather would have no effect on the concert).
Kairi was waiting outside the door for Utau. When he saw her, he quickly came
over and grasped her shoulder. “Utau?”
“What Kairi?” she grumbled at him, still unforgiving of his blackmailing her
into working the Kissing Booth.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“About what?” she asked.
Kairi’s eyes flashed to Ikuto, nervously.
Ikuto sighed and said, “Utau, I’ll be waiting at the Jag. Hurry up. You’ve got
rehearsal and I need to get some sleep before I go to work.”
Utau nodded and then turned to Kairi. “Make it quick,” she said.
Kairi fidgeted a moment, his fingers twisting in his shirt. “Utau, listen,
about Saturday…”
Utau’s heart skipped a beat and she felt her skin prickle with goose bumps.
Saturday was the day she had made breakfast for Kazuomi in a desperate gambit
to gain her brother a little more sleep, but he had threatened to make it worse
for Ikuto if she lingered in the house any longer. Utau had fled as if the
devil himself was chasing her and nearly flattened Yukari. She had hoped Kairi,
who had been waiting in the car at the time, would have forgotten about it. She
knew Yukari had. Her manager was too busy with the upcoming concert and Kairi
was supposed to be busy with his carnival.
Swallowing thickly, Utau snapped at him defensively, “What about Saturday,
Kairi?”
His eyes slid away. “Yukari is… she’s worried about you.”
“Why?” Utau said, folding her arms protectively over her breasts. “Nothing’s
wrong.”
Kairi’s eyes bored through her. She suddenly felt naked and vulnerable and took
a step back from him. Why did she feel so threatened? This was only Kairi,
Yukari’s little brother, and Ikuto was only a few feet away, waiting in the
Jag. If something happened, he was right there to help her.
“Utau?” Kairi asked, stepping towards her.
She took another step back. “What?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.
“Of course I am,” she snapped and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder.
Kairi backed off, that concerned look vacating his face. “Alright,” he
relented. “I’ll see you at the carnival on Saturday.”
Utau glowered at him. “Yeah, jerk. I’ll wear my best lipstick.”
He smirked. “I’d bring the whole tube if I were you.”
“Well, you’re not me!” Then, Utau gave him the finger. She stalked to the Jag,
slammed herself into the passenger seat, and yanked the door closed behind her.
With a huff, she slumped down in the seat and crossed her arms angrily over her
breasts.
“What did Kairi want?” Ikuto asked.
“To tease me,” Utau snarled. “Just take me to the studio.”
Ikuto chuckled softly, put the car in gear, and pulled out of the parking lot.
In the passenger seat, Utau was huffing and muttering to herself. Ikuto
couldn’t help but smile. Utau was adorable when she was angry in the same way a
little animal was when it tried to take on something much larger than itself.
“Hey, Utau?” Ikuto said suddenly.
“What?” she snapped at him.
He slid her an impatient look.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s not you I’m angry with.”
“I just had a detail,” he continued. “If the concert is Sunday, won’t dress
rehearsal and sound check be on Saturday?”
“Yeah,” Utau said. “Why?”
“And Kairi’s carnival is on Saturday, right?”
The light bulb came on in Utau’s head. “Shit!” she swore. “That jerk will never
let me cancel on him. The only reason he got other girls to do the Kissing
Booth was because I have the first shift. No one wants to be the first for that
kind of thing.”
“Can you get someone to take your place?” Ikuto suggested.
“Like who?”
Silence spread between them.
“Well?” Utau asked her brother.
“I’m thinking,” he said. “What about Nadeshiko?”
“She’s already working a shift.”
“What about Nagihiko? He could pass as a girl.”
Utau snorted. “How about you then, Ikuto? You’re so handsome every girl in
school would want to kiss you!”
He paled, the thought of endless people forcing their lips to his reminding him
painfully of Kazuomi. His step-father had taken him in the bathroom just that
morning and painfully hard at that. Ikuto still had bruises on his hips and
wrists where Kazuomi had gripped him.
Utau bit her lip as she watched the fear dance across Ikuto’s face. “Oh, Ikuto…
I… I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”
He cut her off. “It’s okay.”
More silence reigned.
“What about your friend? Amu?” Utau asked.
Ikuto chewed the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think so…”
“I don’t have any other choice,” Utau insisted. “Do you have her phone number?
Let me call her.”
“I don’t have it. She wouldn’t let me call her house.”
“Well, her parents work weekends, don’t they? You did your portraits of each
other on a Saturday.”
Ikuto nodded.
“And you know where she lives, right?”
He nodded again.
“Couldn’t you go to her house and ask tomorrow before the carnival starts?”
“I don’t think she’ll go for it, Utau.”
“Please, Ikuto!” Utau pleaded. “I need to go to dress rehearsal and I can’t
squeeze it into my day. Kairi’s going to blackmail me.”
Ikuto gave in—he couldn’t leave his little sister in a bad situation like this.
He was protecting her from rape, even at the cost of his own body. He would do
anything to help her. “I’ll stop by Amu’s house and ask her tomorrow,” he said.
“But if she can’t, I’ll take your shift.”
Utau’s face drained of blood to match Ikuto’s pale skin. “Ikuto, no, you can’t
do that,” she whispered.
Ikuto glanced at her, his lips pulling in a faint smile. “I have to protect
you,” he murmured. “You’re my little sister.”
Tears swelled on Utau’s pale lashes and rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Ikuto…”
He forced a smile and then turned his eyes back to the road. He rolled to a
stop in front of Easter Corporation and let Utau out. For a moment, she
lingered on the sidewalk, gazing at him through the glass. He waved at her,
wishing she would just go into the building already.
Then, Yukari called her from the threshold of the building. Utau turned to
speak with her manager and when she turned back, Ikuto had pulled away from the
curb and vanished within the bustling traffic. Utau stared after him for a
moment, her heart in her throat.
…
Ikuto went home after he dropped Utau off at the studio. He flopped down on his
bed, but was unable to sleep. His mind was racing with thoughts, music flowing
through his mind. He was now both excited and nervous. He was terrified of the
thought of working the Kissing Booth for Utau, but so eager to play the violin
on stage with her. He tossed and turned for a while, trying to get comfortable
in his ruined bed, but finally gave up. The sheets smelled like sweat and sex
and lube.
He went to his desk, rummaged through the drawers, and finally found his sheaf
of musical papers. He opened his father’s violin case and reverently touched
the strings, releasing a soft hum into the still air of his bedroom. He found a
pen that didn’t work, found a pencil that needed to be sharpened, and then
found a working pen. For a long moment, pen poised above the paper, he listened
to the music in his mind. Then, he began to write, the music flowing easily
from him.
When he finished, he lifted the violin from its case and tucked it beneath his
chin. He cradled the bow in his fingers and passed it softly across the
strings. Until he had to leave for work, he sat at his desk and played, filling
the silent and empty house with music. Then, he left for work, toiling away his
life. And tomorrow, he would have to let his mouth be violated for the Kissing
Booth—for Utau—but he could survive anything for Utau’s sake.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** The Carnival: Pt I *****
The Kissing Booth idea was what sprang forth the idea for this whole story. How
funny that I didn’t find a place for it until now… Sometimes, it’s strange how
things play out.
                                     X X X
Saturday morning dawned with perfect weather. It was wonderfully sunny, warm
but not unbearably so, there was even a cool breeze blowing, and there wasn’t a
cloud in the sky. It was perfect for Kairi’s carnival though Amu was not
planning on going. But if the weather was any indication of what the day was
going to be like, then everything was going to run smoothly if not completely
and totally perfectly.
Amu woke in a good mood and was determined to keep it that way. Her parents had
already left for work—they had taken to letting her sleep late since her arm
had been shattered. She made herself some pancakes for breakfast and slathered
them in thick syrup. Since she didn’t want to upset her parents, she started
off her morning by scrubbing the kitchen floor and washing the windows. She was
just finishing up the floor when the doorbell rang.
She straightened up, glanced at the door, and then went back to her scrubbing.
She wasn’t expecting anyone and she didn’t need any Girl Scout cookies. She
tried to ignore whoever was at the door, but they were quite persistent and
continued ringing it incessantly.
Finally, Amu got to her feet and called out, “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”
Wiping her wet hands on her jeans, she pulled open the door to find Ikuto
standing on the other side of it. He was carrying a white bakery box with his
pale face painted in a sheepish nervous expression. His blue eyes sparkled in
the sunlight, peeking at her over the rim of his sunglasses.
Amu’s breath caught in her throat, choking her. She had only ever seen Ikuto
wearing black—his school uniform or his waiter’s uniform—and when she had seen
him naked and then dressed later last Saturday, she hadn’t been paying
attention. But now, she as suddenly aware of just how beautiful he was. The
jeans clung to his thin legs and narrow hips, the pale blue t-shirt
complemented his pale skin and lay across his flat stomach, and his shoulders
looked so strong that she found herself wanting to reach out and touch him.
“Hi, Amu,” Ikuto said sheepishly, his lips pulling in a small smile.
“I-Ikuto,” she choked out. “What are you—?”
He opened the bakery box, showing off the assortment of donuts within. “Have
one,” he interrupted. “They’re delicious. They’re from the café Cat’s Eye where
I work.”
Amu selected one with rainbow sprinkles and took a small bite because Ikuto was
staring at her. “Ikuto,” she tried again, “what’s—?”
“I… I need a favor,” he interrupted again. Then, from somewhere, he produced a
cup of coffee in a to-go mug. “Here, have a sip.”
Amu pushed the warm mug away even though her mouth watered at the memory of
Ikuto’s special brand of coffee. She could practically smell the caramel and
cream from where she stood. “What’s going on, Ikuto?” she asked. “Did something
happen?”
He shook his head, a truly soft smile lighting his eyes. “I’m alright, Amu,” he
whispered. “Thanks…”
Small comfortable silence spread between them.
Amu was loathe to break it, but she wanted to know what brought Ikuto to her
door so early bearing coffee and donuts like some kind of offering. “What’s
going on?”
He sighed, closing the bakery box. “I need a favor,” he confessed finally.
“What?” Amu asked. She wanted to help him if she could, she truly did. Ikuto
was the closest thing she had ever had to a friend. “Ikuto?”
“Utau agreed to work a shift of the Kissing Booth at the school carnival, but
her concert is tomorrow and she has to be there for rehearsal and she can’t
make it. I need someone to take her shift or else I’ll have to do it and you of
all people know why I can’t,” he said quickly, somehow managing all those words
with one breath. Then, he hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. He swallowed,
pulling himself together. “I couldn’t bear that.”
Amu’s mouth went dry, her heart skipping a beat.
“Please?” he added.
She wanted to help Ikuto. He was so kind, so sweet, so beautiful, and he was
suffering for his little sister once again, but she wasn’t sure she could do
this for him. How could she do this? Kiss people, kiss boys? Ami would never do
that and if her parents found out… She shuddered, hand ghosting over her cast.
“Ikuto,” she whispered, “I—”
“Please, Amu,” Ikuto repeated. His blue eyes were dark, red-rimmed from lack of
sleep, and he was so close to begging.
Amu stared at him, her emotions like a stone in her throat.
“Please,” he said again. “Amu, please.”
Without thinking, she nodded.
Such relief passed over Ikuto’s handsome face that Amu’s heart broke a little
for him. “Thank you, Amu,” he gasped out. “Thank you.” He reached out and took
her hand, squeezing her fingers. “I’ll drive you over and I’ll stay with you
until it’s over. Do you want another donut? How about some coffee?”
Amu forced a smile, her heart pounding behind the cage of her ribs. “That would
be wonderful,” she said.
In return, Ikuto smiled at her. He truly smiled. He had never had anything
close to a friend for seven long years, since Kazuomi had first started
violating him. He didn’t have the time for friends, but now, he wondered how he
had ever lived without anyone at his side. Amu was such a nice person, even
though she quickly cast her eyes down when he looked at her. So she had a
secret that she wasn’t willing to tell. Well, so did he. If he had had his
choice, she still wouldn’t have known the truth about him, but she knew and
there was nothing he could do about it. Amu was his only friend.
…
Sanjo Kairi was pleased with the way his carnival had come out. He still had a
half an hour before people were due to start arriving, but everything was set
up and ready to roll. The cotton candy booth was up and running though the pink
and blue dye had spilled together and now all the cotton candy was purple. The
teacups were spinning slowly, the Ferris wheel towered overhead, and the small
carousal was playing lovely calliope music.
The only problem was… the Kissing Booth. He wanted to talk to Utau about her
shift before it actually started, but she wasn’t here yet. In fact, Yukari had
gone to pick her up, but Utau had rehearsal all day. Kairi wasn’t even sure how
she was planning to pull this off. Either way though, he was pissed.
“Where’s Utau?” he grumbled to himself as he circled the perimeter of the
carnival, checking on everything and ironing out the final touches.
“Yo, Kairi!” someone shouted.
He whirled around, recognizing that voice. “Ikuto! Where is your pain-in-the-
ass sister?”
Ikuto was standing just behind Kairi with a bakery box of donuts under his arm
and a cup of coffee in his free hand. He towered over the younger boy and there
was a rosette-haired girl standing at his side nervously, her fingers twisted
in her shirt. Kairi recognized the girl as Hinamori Amu, the girl who wore too
much makeup and had a broken arm. He was suspicious of that, but Ikuto had
taken a liking to her. The two had been together a lot lately.
“Well?” Kairi demanded. “She needs to get to the Kissing Booth right now!”
Ikuto put his hand on Amu’s back, guiding her forward because the young
freshman looked like she wanted to balk and run. She pressed close against his
side, looking as if she wanted to cling to him like a lifeline, but restrained
herself.
“Kairi,” Ikuto began. “I never thought you were such a moron.”
Kairi bristled, his eyes growing wide and his lips pulled back over his teeth.
“What did you—?”
“You know perfectly well that Utau has to be at rehearsal for her Halloween
concert all day. So you know perfectly well that she won’t be able to make it
for your carnival today. Hell, your sister is her manager,” Ikuto continued.
Kairi glared at Ikuto and opened his mouth to speak.
Ikuto cut him off. “Unless you really are as dumb as you look,” he finished
with a smirk.
Red crept up Kairi’s neck, burning in the tops of his ears. “Tsukiyomi Ikuto,”
he snarled.
Ikuto got right in Kairi’s face, still managing to look calm and composed and
oh-so overpowering. “Listen up, buddy, Amu will cover Utau’s shift at the
Kissing Booth and everything is going to run smoothly so don’t get your panties
in a bunch, okay?”
Kairi’s mouth opened and closed a few times, stunned by Ikuto’s forwardness. He
had never even heard Utau’s brother speak so many words at one time—Ikuto was
the most closed-off person Kairi had ever met—yet here he was, right in Kairi’s
face with a strangely cute girl at his back.
Ikuto clapped Kairi on the back so hard Kairi thought he might have broken
something. “Okay?” he repeated.
Kairi let out a deep hacking cough, wheezed a little, and then sputtered out,
“Alright.”
“Good,” Ikuto said.
Then, he clasped Amu’s hand in his own and led her off towards the Kissing
Booth, leaning his taller frame down so he could speak into the shell of her
ear. A small smile tugged her lips as she listened to him, her golden eyes
gazing up into his handsome pale face. They looked like such close friends in
that moment, but Ikuto and Utau had always kept to themselves. Kairi wasn’t
sure they even knew the definition of the word ‘friend’ and yet… here was Ikuto
being all buddy-buddy with Amu.
Kairi stared after them for a long moment. Then, he turned back to himself and
muttered, “What just happened?”
…
As the principal of Seiyo Academy, Tsukasa was obligated to come by and check
on Kairi’s Student Council carnival. He had spent the morning at the
Planetarium with his nephew, Tadase, and Rima. Now, since he had to close up
the Planetarium in order to come to the carnival, he had brought both children
along with him.
Rima was trailing along behind them, mumbling to herself. She was clearly
trying to pretend that she wasn’t happy to be in the bright lights and fried
junk food of the carnival, but Tsukasa saw right through her. He saw her secret
little smile hidden in the right-hand corner of her small mouth. What concerned
him the most was that such a young child was trying to hide her feelings. How
bad, how ugly, was her parents’ divorce really?
At Tsukasa’s side, Tadase walked. His face was caught somewhere between
happiness and sadness. He was probably remembering all the times he had gone to
carnivals and circuses with his parents and how he would never have a memory
like that again. His parents were dead now and something like this would bring
him nothing but pain for at least years. That place, the empty place left
behind by a death, was never really filled in.
Tsukasa slowed his pace a little bit. He reached out to Tadase and pulled his
young nephew against his side. He reached for Rima, but she shied away. His
fingers merely brushed her shoulder, caught a small grateful glimpse of her
secretive joy, and then it was all gone. She was hiding within her long hair
and herself again.
Tsukasa sighed sadly, squeezing Tadase’s thin shoulders before releasing him.
Why did these children all suffer so greatly? Why?
Ahead of them, Tsukasa spotted Ikuto. The young man would have been lost in the
growing crowd if not for his height. He was standing with a girl who looked
quite nervous but appeared to be drawing some strength from Ikuto’s presence.
For a moment, Tsukasa watched the two speak, their faces close together, and
then he found himself smiling.
Ikuto was making friends… or so it at least seemed.
For that, Tsukasa was unbelievably happy. Now, if only there was something more
he could do for Rima and Tadase.
…
Kazuomi was sitting at his desk, finally breathing deeply, taking a moment to
stop and smell the roses. He had had a busy week and was tired. Utau’s concert
was going through a dry run, Ikuto was off doing something, and everything was
going according to plan. Well, everything except last weekend. Those
occurrences still puzzled Kazuomi.
He had left Ikuto handcuffed to his bed, gagged and naked, recently fucked, and
yet… when he had come home, Ikuto was going through his day rather normally. He
was dressed for work, eating a sandwich, and had glanced at Kazuomi when he
entered the house. Then, without a word, Ikuto had left for work as if nothing
bad had happened.
Usually, after he had been raped, Ikuto sat in the shower and scrubbed his body
until his skin was cracked and bleeding. Usually, he slithered about in the
shadows, unable to even meet Kazuomi’s eyes, flinching away from every touch.
He hugged his clothes to him as if they were going to fly away if he let go,
trembling. Kazuomi enjoyed watching his worthless step-son like that, cowering
like a beaten dog, whimpering in pain.
But Ikuto had not acted like that after that day’s violation.
Kazuomi had been expecting the boy to be in an even worse condition, betrayed
by his first and only friend, and yet… Ikuto was alright. Though Kazuomi had
thought the boy was about to break, he seemed to have put himself back together
again even if he was still fragile.
It was so strange.
Besides, how had Ikuto even gotten free from his bindings? Any friend of
Ikuto’s would surely have leaped on the opportunity to have such a beautiful
creature at their mercy, but somehow… Ikuto was alright. He even seemed to be
doing better than usual. And Kazuomi just couldn’t wrap his head around that.
What friend of Ikuto’s hadn’t taken advantage of the beautiful creature left
out for them?
Kazuomi’s mind flashed back to the young girl he had seen hiding in the
rosebushes the morning he had left Ikuto like that. He had assumed that she was
just passing by. After all, she was just so plain and frightened-looking that
she couldn’t possibly be Ikuto’s friend. Right?
But now… Kazuomi wasn’t so sure.
He kicked back in his chair, tossing his feet up on his desk. Well, it didn’t
really matter. Kazuomi wouldn’t risk threatening any friend of Ikuto’s or
Utau’s. He could keep his worthless step-children under his thumb by
threatening one to keep the other in line. But a friend… they would be out of
his reach. Yes, money could buy anything, but the cops were bound to get
suspicious after the fourth suspicious death surrounding Easter Corporation’s
leader.
Who cared if Ikuto had a good friend? Kazuomi would punish Ikuto tonight before
the concert tomorrow, the boy would break and cower, and that would be that.
…
Amu couldn’t stand the Kissing Booth. The moment she laid eyes on it, she felt
a bubble of fear well up in her heart. It was simple, just a pair of plain
wooden stools on a small platform. Paper hearts and cupids had been cut out and
pasted everywhere, the sign overhead bore a picture of puckered lips with the
words ‘Kissing Booth’ just underneath, and there was soft lovey-dovey music
playing somewhere behind her. It all made her feel a little sick.
Ikuto walked her onto the platform, got her situated on the stool, and gave her
a sip of caramel-and-creamy-delicious coffee and a thumbs-up, before jumping
down from the low stage. He stood in the crowd nearby, watching her, offering
moral support, but Amu still didn’t feel safe.
What if her parents came by?
What if they saw her like this?
What if someone told them?
They would hurt her.
They would punish her.
They might even throw her in the basement with the rat!
Kissing boys was something Ami would have done and therefore, Amu was
forbidden.
Her heart pounded like a drum. Amu was so busy fussing over these non-existent
worries (There was no possible way her parents could find her here. They would
be at work all day, preparing for Meikyuu Butterfly’s concert the next day.)
that she didn’t notice the moment Ikuto left the crowd below. One moment, he
was there, smiling at her. The next, she was busy worrying. And then, he was
gone.
Panic and betrayal filled her heart. How could he leave her?
She nearly leaped from the stool and fled, but she spotted Kairi in the crowd
below. He fixed her with a glare, turning her legs into jello. Then,
desperately scanning the crowd, she spotted Ikuto. He hadn’t left her. He had
merely moved. Tsukasa was standing with him, with Rima and Tadase at his back,
and they were talking.
Relief surged through Amu’s blood and she nearly fainted.
Ikuto slipped her a smile. Tsukasa and Tadase both waved. Rima ignored her
until Tsukasa turned and said something to her. Then, the pretty blonde forced
a smile and a finger wave at Amu. Amu had never felt this way before. It was
like… like she had real friends. Her chest swelled with warmth and happiness
and she even found herself smiling as she turned to the young boys lining up at
the bottom of the Kissing Booth’s steps. Despite herself, she smiled at them.
The first boy handed over his tickets, climbed the stairs, and sat on the stool
across from Amu. He leaned in, she hesitated, and then leaned in also. His lips
brushed hers, pressed down, and then she felt the wet heat on his tongue. She
pulled away from him, shaking her head.
“Come on, baby,” he cooed. “It’s just a little tongue.”
“No,” she said firmly.
He cupped the back of her neck. “Come on, sugar,” he purred. “Just let me—”
“Hey!” Ikuto barked, his voice ringing out through the babble of the carnival.
“Back off! She said no.”
The boy turned to subject Ikuto to a glare, but Kairi slipped into the
conversation seamlessly. “You have to respect the ladies at the Kissing Booth,”
the class president said with smooth authority. “If she says no, it means no.
If you can’t respect that, I’ll have you removed.”
“Listen, punk,” the boy began.
Tsukasa stepped up behind Kairi, his hand resting on the class president’s
shoulder. He simply subjected the unruly boy to his patented principal glare
and the kid slid off.
Gratefully, Amu smiled at Ikuto. He smiled back. Then, Amu turned to her next
customer and found herself continuing to smile despite the situation. She
puckered up, gave the next guy a kiss, and moved on with Utau’s shift. She
could feel Ikuto watching over her and suddenly wasn’t afraid anymore. With him
at her back, she was safe—at least here. So long as he never learned what a bad
person she really was, they could still be friends.
                                     X X X
This turned into a super long chapter because I wanted to keep the carnival
(and Saturday) all in two chapters. The concert (and Sunday) should also take
about two chapters… or so I plan. We all know how well my plans tend to work
out.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Carnival: Pt II *****
Alright, all you whiners, this is all the Amuto fluff you are going to get for
a long long time! So learn to deal with it. This is a realistic and slow-paced
story. If you’re not in it for the long haul, go away because I could care less
about your whiny “I need fluff” complaints.
And, you’re all doing it again. You’re all saying update… knock it off! I’m
going to update regularly so say something else!
                                     X X X
After Amu finished working Utau’s shift at the Kissing Booth, she and Ikuto
wound up staying at the carnival for a while longer. He was grateful to her for
helping him and wanted to do something to show his appreciation. And Amu wasn’t
going to say no. She liked Ikuto’s company.
Neither was really ready to let go yet.
Despite everything though, the day was drawing to a close. Night was falling
across the sky in a rich indigo blanket, speckled with the sequins of stars.
The carousel’s calliope music tinkled through the air, the Ferris wheel’s
lights sparkled beautifully, and the teacups spun slowly. People were slowly
beginning to leave the successful carnival, half-chased out by Kairi as he
began to close-up-shop. A cool breeze blew the scents of fried Oreos and kettle
corn to Amu and Ikuto where they were sitting on a bench together.
Gleefully, Amu pulled off a piece of purple cotton candy and let it dissolve in
her mouth. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had cotton candy or been
to a carnival. It must have been long before Ami’s death, back when they were
still a happy family. After Ami died, things like this were forbidden because
of the painful reminder of the lost little girl. Sweets and tinsel lights and
piggy-back rides and going to church on Sunday… It was all gone, over,
finished, and it was never coming back.
The cotton candy turned to stone in Amu’s throat. Forcing herself to swallow,
she glanced at Ikuto. He was leaning back, his legs stretched out languidly in
front of him with his arm draped over the back of the bench. Occasionally, his
fingertips would ghost across the back of Amu’s bare neck, but other than that,
he did not move to touch her. He had a bag of purple cotton candy at his hip
that he was bringing home for Utau. His handsome face was smooth and calm,
relaxed, and his lips were curved in a small smile.
He looked so happy, so young, and so innocent.
He turned to her and smiled, the bright multi-colored lights reflecting in his
eyes and on his white teeth. He lifted a hand, brushing his night-dark hair
back from his face. His eyes sparkled so beautifully, flashing in the light,
brighter and happier than the carnival in its entirety. “Amu,” he began.
“Yeah?” she whispered, captivated.
He grasped her hand, rising from the bench and pulling her after him. “Let’s—”
Kairi passed by them, his blue eyes bright as he smiled at Ikuto. “Fantastic
work, Ikuto,” Kairi said. He nodded to Amu. “You too. Thanks for helping out.”
“It was nothing,” Amu murmured, her cheeks flushing faintly pink at the praise.
“You know, we’re going to be closing down soon, so here,” Kairi said and then
handed Ikuto a few tickets for rides and games. “They were leftover,” he
explained. Then, he hesitated a moment. “And, will you tell Utau that… I’m
sorry?”
Ikuto nodded, his fingers closing over the bright pink and yellow tickets, but
didn’t speak.
Kairi nodded to both of them and moved on, making his rounds on the carnival.
It almost looked like he was fleeing from Ikuto’s gaze and Amu wondered what it
was that Kairi had to apologize to Utau for. She turned back to Ikuto, waiting
for him to finish what he had started to say.
But Ikuto had sharply cut himself off, blue eyes darting. He no longer looked
so happy. His face was purely haunted as if he had spotted some lurking ghost
in the shadows. He sat back down on the bench. He released his hold on her
hand, stuffed the tickets into his pocket, and folded his arms across his chest
as if to protect himself. “Nothing,” he mumbled. “Never mind.”
“Ikuto?” Amu asked, her eyes glowing in the lights.
“Nothing. It’s stupid,” he muttered.
Amu hesitated and then reached out to him, laying her hand on the bare skin of
his wrist. She ran her thumb over a bruise that she found there, her fingers
squeezing over his pulse lightly. His pulse was ragged, uneven, but strong.
“Please?” she asked again. “Just tell me.”
He tipped his chin in a vague direction.
Amu looked around and spotted the carousel. “The merry-go-round?” she asked
him.
He shook his head, angled his chin, and looked away.
Wondering what he meant, she looked again. “The Ferris wheel?”
Again, he shook his head, dark hair feathering against his cheeks.
The only thing left in the vicinity was the teacups, but Amu didn’t think Ikuto
could possibly be interested in that childish ride. Even so, she murmured, “The
teacups?”
Ikuto looked at her, his expression very strange. Then, he said softly, “What’s
your favorite ride, Amu?”
She wet her lips and tried to think back to the time when her parents had been
happy and loving. When was the last time she had even been to a carnival like
this? It seemed like another lifetime, so long ago… before Ami had died. “The…”
she began, but hesitated, biting her lower lip.
Ikuto reached out to her, lightly tucking a strand of pale rose-colored hair
behind her ear. “Tell me, please.”
Amu leaned into his fingers a moment, greedily soaking up his touch. She
couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched her so gently, as if either
her skin or his fingers were nothing more than glass that would shatter on
contact. “The carousel,” she confessed finally.
“The carousel,” he repeated, lifting his eyes to gaze at it.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “It just goes around and around, and up and down. It
never really goes anywhere, but… you always feel safe. That’s… that’s what I
want.”
Ikuto turned on the bench to face her, his arm draping across the back, and Amu
wished he would have kept his fingers lightly there on her face forever. But
she supposed all good things had to end, just like a ride on the carousel. They
were so close, knees touching where they had each turned to face each other and
pressed nearly chest to chest. To an outside eye, they might have looked like
lovers or very close friends whispering words of love to each other, but… The
truth was very different.
“What about you, Ikuto?” Amu asked.
He sighed softly, his breath scented of sweet cotton candy. “I…” Then, he
laughed a little bit. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
Amu shook her head. “I won’t, honest,” she whispered. “Tell me?”
He didn’t meet her eyes, instead choosing to look out over the carnival. The
lights danced on his pale face. Then, as he had before, he vaguely tipped his
chin and whispered so softly that she wouldn’t have heard him if she hadn’t
been looking at his lips. “The teacups.”
She smiled faintly. The teacups had been Ami’s favorite and Amu could remember
riding them over and over with her little sister back when they were young,
when they were happy, when Ami was alive… “Really?” she asked.
Ikuto nodded and looked at her. “Silly, right? Someone like me should like…
rollercoasters or bumper cars… like a normal boy.” There was something hideous
about the way he said that—like a normal boy—as if those words were something
scornful that he had heard too many times.
“Ikuto,” Amu whispered. “I—”
He reached out to her, his fingers threading through hers as he held her hand
tightly. His hands were like ice despite the warm air. She watched his throat
flash as he breathed, working furiously as he swallowed. He seemed like he
wanted to say something, but then shook his head and looked away from her.
He fished the tickets back out of his pocket and handed them to her. “Here,” he
said. “Why don’t you have a little fun?”
She cupped her hands and he showered the tickets into her open palms. For a
moment, she stared at them, sorting them into separate pink and yellow piles
with her thumbs. There were about enough tickets for four trips on the rides.
She looked at Ikuto again.
He was reclined against the back of the bench, staring up at the starry night
sky.
“Come with me,” Amu said suddenly.
He glanced at her. “No, that’s alright. You’ve earned it. Go ahead,” he
insisted. “Have some fun.”
“Please,” Amu whispered and pressed half the tickets into his palm. “Please,
Ikuto.”
He tried to hand the tickets back to her.
“Please,” she begged him. “Come on the merry-go-round with me and I’ll go on
the teacups with you.” She could see the wanting in his face—he wanted to go on
the teacups, he wanted to be with her, he wanted to keep this moment—yet for
some reason, he wouldn’t allow himself that. “Please,” she whispered one final
time.
Ikuto nodded. “Alright,” he said. “You win.”
Amu smiled. In fact, she positively beamed. She grasped Ikuto’s hand and tugged
him towards the beautiful tinsel-lights of the carousel. The calliope music
filled her head, swirling around her like a mystical embrace, and her heart
began to pound. She handed the student operating the ride tickets for herself
and Ikuto, towed Ikuto through the gate, and quickly circled the ride looking
for the most beautifully-carved horse. Selecting a lovely white one with a
golden mane and a wreath of violet lilacs around its neck, Amu mounted up,
gripping the swirled golden bar.
She glanced back at Ikuto, smiling broadly. “Pick a horse, Ikuto! Please.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her and came up beside her. For a moment, he was
tempted to slide onto the horse behind her, put his arms around her waist, and
rest his chin on her shoulder, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that
much physical contact. Instead, he slipped onto the horse to her left, his long
legs causing his feet to still be touching the platform beneath.
Slowly, the ride started up, the horses beginning to gallop in place and the
music becoming slightly louder. Since the carnival was winding down, they had
the carousel to themselves. Amu leaned her head on the barley pole, closing her
eyes. She relished the feeling of the wind through her hair and the gentle sway
of the carousel. She sighed in bliss, her face so content.
Ikuto watched her, smiling softly at her happiness. He didn’t quite understand
why he felt this way for Amu—was it just because he had never had a real friend
before? Or was it something more? But either way, he wanted to see her like
this. He wanted her to be happy, but most of all, he wanted her to be happy
with him.
She was so beautiful. The lights played on her makeup-covered face, playing on
her prominent cheekbones and the deep sockets of her golden eyes. Her rose-
colored hair feathered against her cheeks, fluttering in little wisps and curls
around her face. Her back was so thin and sinuous, rising and falling slowly
beneath her t-shirt. Her thin legs hugged the curves of the horse, toes just
barely touching the floor.
Then, far too soon, the ride slid to a halt.
Amu remained seated on her horse, smiling. She looked as if she wanted to stay
there forever, to just pretend that this carousel was her entire world and
never get off. She probably would have remained there until the carnival closed
down had Ikuto not gotten up and gently touched her back.
“Amu?” he whispered.
Her golden eyes slid open. “Yeah?”
“It’s over,” he said.
“I know,” she murmured. “But I just… I don’t want to get off.”
Ikuto gently took her elbow and tugged her off the horse. Amu pressed against
his side, giggling a moment.
“Thank you, Ikuto,” she whispered. “For riding with me.”
“No problem,” he said, leading her by the hand from the carousel.
“Now, the teacups,” Amu said, grinning happily at him.
She led him to the ride, handed over the remaining tickets, and pulled him
forward. She scrambled up the metal steps to the tall table-like platform where
the teacups and teakettle glowed like something from another world. Towing
Ikuto behind her, she chose a bright green teacup covered in bright jade tinsel
lights. They slid into it together, Ikuto pulling the small door shut behind
them. Amu suddenly realized just how tall Ikuto was. His long legs reached to
the other side of the teacup, capturing Amu between them. She would have been a
little unnerved if it wasn’t for the rotation pillar keeping them apart.
“Wow,” she whispered. “You’re so tall.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I had the same problem when I was younger in the
child-sized teacups. Sadly, it’s not a problem that I grew out of.”
Amu giggled. “I guess you’ll be too tall for the teacups all your life.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “I like them too much.”
A few other young couples and some students piled onto the ride, chattering
happily as if they didn’t have a care in the world and they probably didn’t.
Amu and Ikuto waited patiently, looking at each other in silence as everyone
sorted themselves out on the ride.
“Ikuto,” Amu said finally. “Why do you like the teacups so much?”
He sighed heavily, his throat flashing as he swallowed. “Well…”
“You don’t have to tell me,” she whispered, resting her hand on his knee just
beside her.
“It’s alright,” he said, smiling faintly. “I don’t mind.” He hesitated a moment
and then confessed, “I trust you.”
Amu rubbed her thumb over his jean-covered knee comfortingly. The fabric was
worn and she could almost touch his naked skin.
“You remember when I told you about my… step-father and Utau,” he hesitated
again, “how it started after my mother’s death.”
Amu nodded.
“About a month after he started… taking me, I ran away. I wanted to live in
Disneyland where everyone is happy all the time, but I wasn’t sure how to get
there. I figured if I made it to the carnival in the park just down the street,
they could tell me. Maybe I could even go with them.” He paused, taking a deep
shuddering breath. “But they wouldn’t tell me anything. I didn’t know what else
to do, so I stayed at that little carnival. The teacups was the only ride I
could go on by myself and the carnies were willing to let me ride for free
since I was so upset.”
He wet his lips. “Since I didn’t have much of a choice, I got on. I started
spinning and spinning and I just stayed on the ride all night until my step-
father found me and dragged me home. He locked me in my room so I wouldn’t be
able to run away.” He swallowed, looking away from Amu’s gaze. “And ever since
then, I’ve just felt this way… like I’m still on the teacups that night, just
spinning and spinning and spinning. But by now, I’m spinning so fast that I
can’t stop the ride anymore and I don’t dare get off now…”
Amu reached out and squeezed his fingers. “Ikuto,” she whispered.
He inhaled deeply and clenched her hand in return. “Thanks,” he murmured.
“I’m happy to listen,” she told him softly.
The ride started up with a small lurch. Ikuto grasped the wheel in the center
and began to spin the small teacup. Amu helped him, spinning the teacup faster
and faster. Her small body slid across the slick metal seat, whirled by the
centrifugal force until she was pressed flush against Ikuto’s side. As if he
didn’t even notice, he continued to spin them. The lights and people whirled by
in a pounding blur. Amu actually had to close her eyes, her heart pounding in
her chest. She felt dizzy and clutched Ikuto’s arm, clinging to him as the ride
whirled ever faster.
She whimpered softly and then Ikuto realized that she was frightened by the
speed at which he was turning them. He immediately stopped, gripping the wheel
gently so their pace began to slow. Even as the rotation slowed to a more tame
level, Amu still didn’t let him go. He wrapped one arm around her back and
pulled her flush against him, rubbing her back softly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Amu cracked her eyes open, looking up at him. “I’m alright,” she whispered.
Then, she hugged his side tightly and didn’t let go.
Ikuto held her and simply gazed out at the swirling surroundings outside of the
teacup. This… this was how he felt all the time—like he was out of his own
control. He was caught in the undertow, in the current, forever spinning away
from himself. But by now, there was nothing he could do to take control again.
“I won’t dare get off,” he whispered to himself.
The ride ended, the teacups slowly spinning until they stopped completely.
Ikuto helped Amu out, smiling a little at her expense as she stumbled dizzily
into him. He held her steady against his side, leading her down from the
platform and back to solid ground.
“You’re really good at spinning that thing,” Amu said, pressing a hand to her
head.
“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice,” he said dryly.
Amu’s smile fell as did Ikuto’s. They stood together in silence, Ikuto still
gripping Amu’s elbow to hold her up. The night sky was filled with stars, the
moon shining brightly overhead. Calliope music and the scents of cotton candy
and fried food hung in the air. The many-colored lights from the three small
rides played across the ground.
“Well, I guess I should get you home,” Ikuto said finally.
Amu’s eye widened, her heart skipping a beat and then stopping altogether. “Oh
god,” she whispered. “What time is it?”
Ikuto pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. “Almost eight,” he told
her.
The blood drained from Amu’s face.
“Is something wrong?” he asked her softly.
“I… I need to get home. Now!” she gasped out, whirled away from him, and nearly
started running.
He grabbed her hand. “Amu? What’s wrong?”
“You don’t understand. My parents are,” she gasped, “so strict. I should have
been home hours ago.”
“I’ll go in with you. I’ll talk to them, explain that I really needed your
help—”
Amu’s eyes rolled wildly, the eyes of some cornered hunted small animal. “No!”
she gasped. “If they see you, if they know I was with a boy, they’ll—”
“Amu,” Ikuto said firmly and grasped her shoulders. “Calm down. Everything will
be okay.”
She gasped for breath, her heart throbbing in her chest. Tears burned her eyes
and hung like a heavy stone in her throat. “Please,” she gasped out, “Just…
just take me home, now…”
Though Ikuto didn’t understand what had just happened, he nodded and led her to
the Jaguar. He slipped behind the wheel, wincing at the pain in his body for
the first time all day, and began to drive. Amu sat beside him, her hand
resting on her pink plaster cast. He could see her shaking—in fear, in horror,
with cold? He didn’t know. All he really knew was that something was wrong.
                                     X X X
Okay, there was a treat for everyone—a little bit of sweet cavity-inducing
fluff. Now, back to all the bad things. So, if you want more fluff, reread this
chapter because it’s going to be a long time before you get anymore. Yes, I
know. I’m so mean.
Remember, no more telling me to update because I’m not going to stop any time
soon. How about this? The number of people who tell me to update will become
the number of days I go without updating? Get it? Got it? Good!
Update is a dirty word! So don’t say it!
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Aftershock: Darkness and Pain *****
WomanOnTheLeft: (Awesome penname, by the way.) I appreciate the tough love, but
look at it from my point of view. I update three times a week, nearly without
fail, and yet endless people insist on leaving one or two word reviews that
simply say, “Update.” Honestly, I’m going to update so I think they should back
off and find something else to say. And the people whining for fluff need to
chill out, too. This is a realistic child abuse story, genres being hurt-
comfort and angst, not romance. They aren’t going to bang anytime soon so they
should either buckle in for the long haul or go read a pointless fluff fic. And
that’s my final word on the subject. Thanks for trying to find a different
angle on this though.
RandomReader: I plan to put Kuukai in eventually, but what I plan and what
actually happens are often very different things so… I have no idea. Stick with
hopefully maybe.
And… BUSTED! Who missed the scheduled update on Friday? Someone said the dirty
word! But actually, I couldn’t update because I have to start looking for a new
job. My freaking boss decided to cut all my weekday hours and only let me work
weekends and it’s not enough to pay my car insurance.
So… life stinks…
                                     X X X
The Jag slid to a stop in front of Amu’s decrepit but lovely once-white house
and the girl practically leaped from the car while it was still moving. Ikuto
slammed on the brakes, her name flying from his throat in panic. Amu hit the
ground running, stumbled, nearly fell, grabbed a hold of the fence to steady
herself, and got her feet back under her quickly. She bolted up the cracked
sidewalk to her house, hurled herself through the front door, and was gone.
Ikuto wanted to go after her, but he had a feeling he shouldn’t. Instead, he
lingered outside the house for a moment, waiting for something… though he
wasn’t sure what. He saw her turn on the light inside the dark house, watched
her silhouette in the windows a moment. Then, when nothing seemed to be
happening inside the Hinamori household, he pulled away from the curb and
watched the house diminish in the rearview mirror.
…
Amu threw herself into the house and leaned heavily on the door, panting. Her
heart was pounding so hard that she couldn’t even hear herself think. The world
was closing up around her, drowning her in the sounds of her own fear and
stolen life. Why had she lived while Ami had died? She turned on the light,
chasing away the ghosts.
“M-M-Mom? Dad-d-d?” Amu called, her voice trembling.
The house was dark and quiet, still, almost like a grave. Pale moonlight
filtered in through the freshly-washed windows, spreading out dappled patterns
on the polished hardwood as it shown through the lace curtains. The shadowed
cleaning supplies Amu had been using that morning were still out on the kitchen
counter.
“Mom-m?” she whispered, her fingers clenching into fists. “D-Dad?”
She toed off her shoes, glancing back out the small window on the front door.
Ikuto was still sitting at the curb in his sleek back Jag, moonlight playing on
his pale face. He was watching the house, waiting for something. Did he sense
that she was a bad person who deserved to be punished? Was he waiting to see
what happened next?
“Mom, Dad,” Amu whimpered out. “I’m s-sorry.”
She glanced out the small window again and saw Ikuto pull away from the curb.
His taillights faded in the tree line and Amu was very alone on her block. Her
heart raced, beating against the cage of her ribs. She had been bad today—gone
out kissing boys and being happy even though Ami was dead.
“Mom?” she called.
It suddenly occurred to her that she had never kissed a boy until today, but
she brushed those thoughts away. It was a Kissing Booth for charity, for
school, and so many people had been watching over her. Those kisses didn’t even
mean anything so why should she care? They didn’t matter.
“Dad?” she whispered.
In the darkness, she stumbled into the coffee table and nearly fell. Groping
for the light switch, she made her way through the house, searching for her
parents. She knew they were here… waiting somewhere in the dark, plotting what
they were going to do to her as punishment for what she did.
“I… I’m sorry I’m home late.”
There was no answer—only thick silence.
Amu flipped on the lights in the kitchen, reflecting on the freshly-scrubbed
floor. She put the cleaning supplies back under the sink, hands shaking wildly,
but neither of her parents appeared ever as she noisily put away the dishes on
the drain board. The knives in the butcher’s block gleamed dully.
“Mom? Dad?”
She moved down the hall towards her bedroom, towards Ami’s room, towards her
parents’ room. The darkness of the hall swallowed her up, not even penetrated
by distant moonlight seeping in through the windows. A cloud had covered the
moon. Amu’s heart thundered like a drum.
“Hello?”
She opened her bedroom door, flipping on the lights. Her room was deserted. At
Ami’s door, she listened for signs of life, but it was as silent as the grave
beyond that barrier. Only her parents’ door was left in the hallway. With
shaking hands, she opened it and turned on the light.
A scream was trapped in her throat.
But this room was empty as well.
The only place left was the basement… with that rat… Amu’s shattered arm
throbbed at the memory of the long horrible weekend she had spent crumpled at
the bottom of those stairs in the dark. She did not want to go through that
again. She felt suddenly nauseous and slid to her knees, trying to breathe.
After a long moment, she got back to her feet and moved down the brightly-lit
hallway towards the basement door. The knob was rusted, but polished to a
shine. She turned it slowly, hearing the hinges scream like a small animal, and
swung it open into the abyss below. Light did not penetrate that hell.
A breath of stale air wafted in Amu’s face and she heard the rat squeak. In the
pitch darkness, something else moved. Something big—like one of her parents.
Biting down on her tongue, Amu gripped the threshold desperately and flipped on
the light. She expected her mother or father’s face to be sudden revealed in
stark and terrible relief, leering at her before dealing a punishing blow.
The stairway was empty of even the rat.
There was nothing lurking in the basement.
Trembling, Amu closed the door, breathing hard.
The entire house was deserted. Her parents weren’t home… Were they out looking
for her? No, they wouldn’t do that. They would wait, wait for her to come home
so they could punish her, but then… where were they? Amu returned to the
kitchen and checked the answering machine. There, the number one flashed in
bright red.
Amu pressed play.
Her mother’s voice filled the room.
“Hey sweetie, you must be sleeping. I just wanted to let you know that your
father and I won’t be home until after eleven. We got held up at work with the
concert and all. But tomorrow, we’ll still go, alright honey? We’ll see you in
the morning.”
The message ended.
Amu crumpled to her knees in relief, tears burning in her eyes and throat. The
first sob wracked her shoulders, making her teeth chatter and her heart skip
beats. She wasn’t going to be hurt. Her parents had no idea that she’d done
something bad. She was safe, she was okay, and she wasn’t going to be punished…
Everything was alright. Then, she broke down and cried in relief.
…
Ikuto practically floated home, but in the back of his mind, like a lead
weight, he was concerned about Amu. She had seemed outright terrified at the
carnival when she learned that she was beyond late in going home. He had never
seen such fear, not even in his own face, and there was the way she touched her
broken arm when that terror crossed her expression. Was something… wrong at
home?
But even so, Ikuto was happy. He had had such a nice day and he had gotten to
ride the teacups again and he had cotton candy for Utau. Again, his thoughts
turned to Amu. She was such a good person, taking Utau’s shift at the Kissing
Booth merely as a favor to Ikuto. But then… why had she suddenly been in such a
hurry to flee from him? Had he done something to frighten her—maybe spinning
the teacups so quickly? But she had clung to his side afterwards so that didn’t
seem likely.
Maybe… hell, he had no idea what might have frightened Amu. Maybe she had a
rough life. Everyone had secrets, skeletons in their closets, things that they
didn’t want to talk about. He knew that he certainly did, so it was not his
place to pry into her life. Until she was ready to talk to him, he should
probably just clam up.
He pulled into the garage at the mansion and stepped out of the jag, toting the
cotton candy, leftover bakery box of donuts, and empty to-go mug of coffee into
the house with him. He didn’t really care about his step-father’s expensive
car, but he wasn’t a slob. In the kitchen, moving through it in the darkness,
he deposited the garbage in the trash can and reached out for the light switch.
Light flooded the kitchen, gleaming off the china in the cabinet.
He yawned, stretched, and toed off his shoes.
Then, Ikuto sensed that he was not alone.
He whirled around, heart splitting into pieces. He already knew who was waiting
for him in the dark, as patient as any other predator stalking its helpless
prey. Kazuomi was sitting at the kitchen table, his hands folded neatly in his
lap. Ikuto didn’t like the look of that smile he was wearing and stumbled
backwards a step, nearly lifting his arms to shield himself.
“Hello Ikuto,” Kazuomi said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sick smile.
Ikuto found himself taking another step back.
“Did you have a good day?”
Ikuto nodded. “Yeah and Utau’s concert is tomorrow so I was going to get a
little practice in and then go to bed.”
“It’s been a while since you played in front of an audience. Why don’t you
bring your violin out here and I’ll watch you?”
“That’s alright,” Ikuto said, trying to move out of the kitchen. “I’m confident
that I’ll be able to play perfectly tomorrow.”
Kazuomi’s hand closed around Ikuto’s wrist and yanked him back. The boy landed
in his step-father’s lap, pinned against his chest with both Kazuomi’s arms
wrapped tightly over his thin chest. Kazuomi’s hot breath was on the back on
his neck, on the shell of his ear, and he shivered.
“This is a very important concert for Utau’s career. You don’t want to risk
ruining it for your sister, do you?” Kazuomi hissed, his hot slimy tongue
tracing the base of Ikuto’s neck.
Ikuto squirmed. “No, of course not, but—”
“Then play for me,” Kazuomi whispered to him. “Don’t you want to play, Ikuto?”
Immediately, the double entendre made goose bumps break out all over Ikuto’s
pale flesh.
“No,” he pleaded. “Let me go.”
Kazuomi’s grip in his body only tightened. “Explain to me how when I left you
trussed up like a gift for your friend, I came home to find you free and
untouched. What person didn’t jump at the opportunity to possess this so
wholly?” His hand trailed down Ikuto’s body from his throat to his crotch,
pausing to pinch his nipple painfully before cruelly stroking his genitals.
Ikuto yelped, squirming. “Let me go!”
Kazuomi nipped the boy’s earlobe, sucking it hard. “Explain it to me, Ikuto,”
he hissed.
Ikuto’s heart pounded. He didn’t want to tell Kazuomi about Amu. His power, his
reach, was too great. What if he hurt Amu? He had threatened to eliminate
Nikaidou Yuu—a grown man who worked in Kazuomi’s corporation—so he didn’t think
his step-father would have any trouble removing one little girl from the
picture. Ikuto couldn’t risk that. He wouldn’t let Amu be hurt merely because
she was his friend. She was too good of a person for that.
So, instead of trying to spare himself, Ikuto spoke the words that he knew
would get him hurt, but would channel Kazuomi’s anger away from Ikuto’s friend
in an instant.
“Not everyone’s a sick bastard like you!” Ikuto shouted at his step-father.
“Not everyone needs to rape boys to get off!”
The response was immediate and exactly what Ikuto had expected. He closed his
eyes.
Kazuomi’s arms tightened around Ikuto’s thin body, one hand clawing its way up
to his face and throat. His fingers dug into Ikuto’s throat, raking the fragile
skin and leaving bruises like planets to circle the beat of his heart. Ikuto
grit his teeth, but a small sound of agony escaped.
“What. Did. You. Just. Say. To. Me?” Kazuomi snarled.
Ikuto grit his teeth. “You heard me.”
Kazuomi threw him off his lap, standing with a sound not unlike thunder as his
chair crashed backwards. Ikuto hit his hands and knees, barely managing to stop
his dangerous slide before his face smashed into the fridge. He leaped to his
feet and ran, not sure exactly where he was planning to go. He just wanted to
get out, but he should have known that there was no escape for him.
Kazuomi caught him at the threshold of the hallway and slammed him against the
wall. A family portrait taken after their mother’s death crashed to the floor
and shattered, even the wooden frame breaking. Glass crunched underfoot as they
struggled. Kazuomi easily pinned both of Ikuto’s wrists over his head, pressing
his larger body into the boy to keep him still. Then, he viciously untucked
Ikuto’s shirt, nearly tearing the material in his enraged frenzy.
He pressed his hand to the naked flesh of Ikuto’s stomach, digging his short
nails into the soft skin. Ikuto bit his lip, turning his face away from his
step-father so he wouldn’t see the pain in his expression. With one hand,
Kazuomi unfastened Ikuto’s belt and yanked it from the loops of his jeans. The
boy had lost some weight since he had last gone shopping and the pants were
positively hanging off his hips so Kazuomi easily removed the jeans. His boxers
soon followed.
Then, Kazuomi flung Ikuto away, being certain to keep a grip on the material of
his t-shirt. The thin fabric tore. Naked, Ikuto crashed to the floor. The
shards of glass from the shattered picture sliced into his body. He started to
get up, started to put his hands down on the glass, but Kazuomi suddenly fisted
a hand in his night-dark hair and yanked him onto his knees.
“Remember,” Kazuomi snarled. “Utau’s concert is tomorrow. You don’t want to
ruin your hands, do you?”
Ikuto whimpered, glass biting into his knees.
Kazuomi chuckled and licked a cut on Ikuto’s cheek, his tongue probed
purposefully into the wound. “Delicious,” he murmured. “Just like your tears.”
Ikuto looked sharply away, trying to pull free, but Kazuomi’s fingers were
tangled too tightly in his hair. “Let go,” he whispered.
“No,” Kazuomi said coldly.
He pulled his step-son to his feet, heedless of the glass that cut into Ikuto’s
bare feet. Ikuto cried out, clutching at the wall as if that would take the
pressure off his feet. Kazuomi dragged him forward by his hair to the threshold
of his bedroom door. By now, Ikuto was making sounds of agony as the glass cut
deeper and deeper into his feet. Kazuomi didn’t throw him on the bed or even on
the floor. Instead, he dragged Ikuto through the room and into the bathroom.
There, he shoved Ikuto into the vanity and the boy quickly scrambled onto it,
just to get the pressure of his bleeding feet.
He had been expecting Kazuomi to take him instantly and hard, without any
preparation, but the man didn’t more towards him—yet. He got the first aid box
from underneath the sink and opened it, taking out tweezers and a few rolls of
gauze. In silence, he plucked the shards of glass from Ikuto’s feet, applied
some healing salve, and then wrapped them in gauze. Ikuto watched as he put the
supplies back into the box and put them away. Then, he stepped back, tossing a
towel over Ikuto’s nudity.
Ikuto clutched it to himself, eyes his step-father with a mixture of gratitude
and distrust. “T-thank you,” he murmured finally.
“I hope you’ve learned a lesson about breaking things,” Kazuomi said firmly.
Ikuto nodded, his sapphire eyes wide.
“And running away,” he continued.
Though Ikuto’s heart skipped a beat, he nodded again.
“Good,” Kazuomi said. Then, he offered Ikuto his hand.
Though still suspicious, Ikuto allowed his step-father to help him down from
the vanity and limp into his bedroom. The door still hung on its broken hinges,
creaking ominously. Kazuomi helped Ikuto sit down and stood there, waiting for
something.
Again, Ikuto said softly, “Thank you,” mainly because it seemed to be what
Kazuomi wanted to hear.
Kazuomi nodded, but continued to stand there.
“What do you want?” Ikuto asked finally. He was naked beneath he towel,
vulnerable, and he just wanted his step-father to leave.
“I’m waiting for you to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For what you said to me.”
Ikuto’s eyes narrowed, but he knew it would be unwise to challenge his step-
father again. Kazuomi would destroy him. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Kazuomi asked, his lips pulling up into a cruel smile.
Ikuto fought back bile in his throat. “For… saying those things to you.”
“What things?”
“That you are… a sick bastard who… only gets off raping boys…”
“Now, all together,” he teased.
Ikuto closed his eyes tightly and began to take a deep breath.
Kazuomi grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up. “Look at me when you
apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” Ikuto whispered, “that I said you were a… sick bastard who only
gets off raping boys.”
“Now, I want you to beg.”
“Please forgive me,” Ikuto muttered.
“Not that,” Kazuomi said.
Ikuto glanced up, confused. He saw the sick smirk on his step-father’s face and
his stomach turned over. “No,” he whispered pleadingly.
“Do it,” Kazuomi hissed. “Or I’ll have to seek pleasure elsewhere.”
Ikuto’s mouth went dry and for a moment, he was unable to speak.
They heard the front door open and Utau called out cheerfully, “I’m home!”
Kazuomi’s smirk widened.
Tears gathered at the corners of Ikuto’s blue eyes, but he whispered, “Please,
forgive me for saying those things. I want you to fuck me.”
“More,” Kazuomi ordered. He wanted Utau to hear her big brother begging like
this.
“Please, I’m sorry,” Ikuto’s voice broke, fingers tightening in the material of
the towel. “Don’t make me do this.”
“Say it!” Kazuomi shouted, loud enough that he knew Utau had heard him and
would know what was happening.
A tear rolled down Ikuto’s face. “Please… f-fuck me. Please, I want you to do
i-it. Please, fuck me with—with your… f-f-fat cock. Do it h-hard and d-deep,
please…”
Kazuomi grinned, his teeth shining in the semi-darkness.
…
Utau was kneeling on the other side of the ruined door, out of sight since it
was open. Inside, she heard the sounds of her brother being taken. She heard
him being forced to beg for something he could never want. She heard him cry
out as whatever clothing or covering he had on his naked body was torn away.
She heard the mattress groan as Kazuomi pushed Ikuto down and Ikuto was silent
for this. She heard them fumble for the lube Ikuto kept on hand in his
nightstand and the squishing wet sounds as Kazuomi prepared Ikuto a little.
After all, he couldn’t be hurt too badly to perform at the concert tomorrow.
Then, she knew Kazuomi must have entered him because she heard him begin to
moan and grunt like a hog. She heard her brother making sounds of agony, but
she didn’t listen for much longer.
                                     X X X
Wow, this chapter went ahead and got mad long on me, but I loves it!
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Concert: Pt I *****
This went all transitional-filler on me. I have no control today… or yesterday…
and probably not tomorrow either.
                                     X X X
Utau got up early the next morning and made a delicious breakfast of French
toast and bacon along with a cup of peppermint tea for herself to soothe her
vocal chords. Though she was loathe to be even a little nice to Kazuomi after
what he had done to Ikuto the night before, she knew that if he was happy, he
wouldn’t hurt Ikuto. And right now, that was the most important thing to her.
Kazuomi got up not long after Utau, drawn by the scent of bacon frying and
coffee brewing. He sat down at the table, chatting with Utau about the day’s
festivities as if he hadn’t been brutally raping her brother the night before.
Even when he patted her on the head, Utau gritted her teeth and bore it.
If Ikuto could face the things Kazuomi did to him, then she was certainly
strong enough for this.
Then, finally, Kazuomi left the kitchen to shower and dress for the day. He
would need a three piece suit and a nice Halloween tie which was sure to keep
him occupied for a while. Utau sighed heavily, happy to be alone, and continued
frying the bacon. A few moments later, as if he had been woken by Kazuomi’s
mere presence passing in front of his door like a child being woken by the
creak of the closet door, Ikuto limped his way into the kitchen.
He was wearing cotton pajamas, his feet wrapped in heavy gauze, and his
shoulders were hunched in as if he was seeking to protect himself within his
own body. It was unfortunate that Ikuto’s own body was the least safe place for
him to be. He winced in pain with each step just from his feet, not even able
to express the pain in his mind or heart. He looked as if something inside of
him had been butchered and destroyed. Who knew… maybe it finally had.
“Ikuto,” Utau breathed and pulled out a chair for him.
He didn’t move to sit down. Instead, he forced himself to walk across the
kitchen to the coffee pot ad poured himself a mug.
“I can do that for you,” Utau insisted. She hurried to his side, her fingers
just barely touching the back of his hand as she moved to take the coffee pot
from him.
Ikuto flinched as if she had burned him.
“Ikuto,” she whispered softly.
“Sorry,” was all he said. Then, he limped his way back to the table and sank
into the chair she had pulled out for him earlier.
She finished pouring the mug of coffee and set it down in front of him along
with the sugar bowl, the cream pitcher, and a bottle of caramel sauce.
Shockingly, Ikuto took a long swallow of his coffee without putting any of
those things into it. For a moment, as if he was unaware of anything, he drank
black coffee. Then, with a choke and a wheeze, he looked into his mug
accusingly.
“Ikuto?” Utau whispered.
“Sorry,” he said again.
Utau sat down at the table beside him. “Ikuto,” she breathed.
He lifted his eyes to her and she had never seen such a terrible expression on
his face. His blue eyes were dark and mournful, but also deeply ashamed and
holding more than a little pain in those depths. Dark circles, more like
bruises, shadowed beneath his eyes. His skin was parchment-pale and waxen, as
if he was very sick, and she could see the dark veins standing out on his
throat like rivers. Most troubling were the dark fingerprints on his throat. It
looking like Kazuomi had really hurt him badly.
“Oh, Ikuto,” she whispered and reached for him.
Again, he pulled sharply away. “Sorry,” he whispered when she looked saddened
by this.
Utau shook her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Ikuto. You never will
either.”
He flinched, biting his lower lip.
“Ikuto, please, talk to me,” Utau pleaded and dumped several spoonfuls of sugar
into his coffee.
He watched her, but didn’t speak.
She added cream. “Please, just talk to me,” she begged him.
Ikuto looked away from the mug.
“Please?” She added caramel endlessly. “Ikuto?”
“That’s enough caramel,” he said suddenly.
She laid the bottle aside. “Ikuto, please. What’s bothering you? If you can’t
perform like this, Kazuomi will—”
Ikuto shuddered.
Utau didn’t finish her sentence.
“I’m fine,” he said and stood up. Pain lanced through his legs from his cut
feet and he cried out softly. It was going to be hell walking and performing
all day.
“Ikuto, please, I’m here for you,” Utau murmured.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, silent for a long moment. Then, he
whispered, “I know. Thanks. I’m going to… get dressed now.”
And he left the kitchen slowly, limping and leaning heavily on the wall for
support. In his room, he stood for a moment staring at his bed. He wanted so
badly to just sink into his bed and let it swallow him up so that he would
never have to do this again. But, in light of what Kazuomi had done to him on
that mattress just last night, he couldn’t bear the thought of lying on it
anymore. So, he just stood there, gazing at the rumpled sheets. Then, he slowly
dressed.
…
After her long exhausting crying jag the night before, Amu slept like the dead
and didn’t wake up until her mother came in and woke her for breakfast. Midori
was smiling like Amu had never seen before—with true happiness. She found
herself smiling in return, easily believing that today was going to be a good
day. They were going to Meikyuu Butterfly’s concert and she would even see
Ikuto perform with his father’s violin alongside Utau.
“Good morning,” Midori said with a wider smile.
“Morning Mom,” Amu said happily.
Midori pressed a kiss to her remaining daughter’s forehead. “Sleep well?”
Amu nodded.
“I got you a new outfit,” Midori continued. “Get dressed and come downstairs.
We’ll go out for breakfast and then do something fun today until the concert
tonight. How’s that sound?”
Amu nodded eagerly, throwing off the covers.
Midori smiled at Amu one final time and then left her daughter in peace to
dress. Amu found that the outfit her mother had bought her was something Ami
would have worn. It was a beautiful dress of palest pink patterned with crimson
Sakura blossoms and trimmed with gathered lace. It was beautiful, so full of
life, and lovely. Just looking at it brought tears of happiness to Amu’s eyes.
Her parents… they did love her. They really did love her. Maybe she wasn’t a
bad person after all. Maybe she and Ikuto could be…
…
“Let’s go, kids,” Kazuomi called as midday approached.
Utau slowed her pace, being sure to walk at Ikuto’s side. Her brother didn’t
look any better than he had that morning. His face was drawn and he was
clutching their father’s violin to his chest as if Kazuomi was going to take it
from him again. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to offer him
some comfort. But in that moment, her brother seemed like he was made of glass.
If she were to touch him, he would shatter into a million shards.
“Coming,” Utau answered.
The trio piled into Kazuomi’s expensive Mercedes. Utau opened the front door,
certain that Ikuto wouldn’t want to be any closer to Kazuomi than absolutely
necessary, but he grasped her wrist. She turned to look at him and he shook his
head slightly. Utau bowed out and climbed into the backseat. Much to her
surprise, Ikuto slid in beside her.
“Don’t you want to sit up front, Ikuto?” Kazuomi asked.
Ikuto shook his head.
“Whatever,” their step-father said.
Utau let out a soft sigh of relief.
In silence, Kazuomi drove them to the concert hall. People were already lined
up at the sidewalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of Meikyuu Butterfly and her
unknown brother. Yukari was waiting behind the velvet ropes for them, running
block. She helped Utau out of the car and ushered her past all the adoring
fans. Ikuto trailed after them. He didn’t even think about what his face must
have looked like and what kind of headlines it would make for the vultures
better known as tabloid reporters.
“How are you feeling, Utau?” Yukari asked the girl.
Kazuomi slammed the door on the reporters behind them, making Ikuto jump.
Utau glanced at her brother and turned back to Yukari. “Good. Excited.”
Yukari smiled and hugged Utau from the side. “That’s my girl,” she said.
Utau couldn’t help but smile at her manager.
“How about you, Ikuto?” Yukari asked. “How are you… doing?” She trailed off
when she saw the expression on Ikuto’s face. “Ikuto, are you alright?”
“Fine,” he said softly, his voice barely audible.
Yukari stopped and reached out to feel his forehead to see if he was sick, but
he pulled back.
“I’m fine,” he repeated.
“You’re sure? You don’t look so good. Maybe it would be better if you didn’t
perform,” Yukari said.
Utau’s heart skipped a beat and she glanced in terror from Yukari’s concerned
face to Kazuomi’s stormy one.
From behind, Kazuomi pushed Ikuto harshly forward. “He’s fine,” he snapped at
Yukari. “He’s going to perform.”
Ikuto stumbled into the wall, crying out in pain, but managed to muffle most of
his sounds.
Utau swallowed the lump in her throat. “Ikuto,” she whispered.
Yukari stared at Kazuomi a moment, then at Utau, and finally let her gaze rest
on Ikuto. “I understand, sir,” she said slowly, cautiously. “But I would like
to take them both into their dressing rooms. It’s important for performers to
relax before the show. You do want them to do their best, don’t you?”
Kazuomi couldn’t argue with that so he stiffly nodded and waved his step-
children away.
Yukari slung her arm around Utau’s shoulders and gestured for Ikuto to follow
her. “This way, guys,” she called cheerfully. Gratefully, they both followed
the kind woman into the depths of backstage where their dressing rooms,
bouquets of flowers, and snacks were waiting.
…
Amu’s father was sitting at the kitchen table when she came down from her room.
He smiled at Amu when he saw her and Amu felt her heart fill with light and
soar away from her body. Midori was shrugging into her jacket by the front
door. She also smiled at Amu and it was all like a dream.
“Honey, get your coat,” Midori said.
“Okay,” Amu said cheerfully.
“You too dear,” Midori said to her husband.
Tsumugu grumbled, but did as he was asked.
“Where are we going?” Amu asked her mother.
“Out to breakfast,” Midori said, guiding Amu into the garage.
“Really?” Amu couldn’t remember the last time they had gone out to eat. It was
probably before Ami had died.
Tsumugu nodded. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere?”
“Almost anywhere,” Midori told Amu with a laugh.
Amu almost said the Café Cat’s Eye where Ikuto worked, but managed to swallow
the words just in time. “I don’t know,” she said. “How about… the diner?”
"Perfect,” Tsumugu said and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Amu beamed.
They drove in silence for a while. She could see her parents holding hands in
the front seat, smiling, being happy. She wondered what had changed them so
much, made them so happy, but she wasn’t sure she dared ask. What if they
punished her for it? She decided it was best to just enjoy and not ask
questions.
…
Ikuto sat at the vanity mirror beside Utau in her dressing room. Yukari had
brought in their clothes and some stage makeup for them along with a tray of
cubed fruit. Yukari had wanted Utau to go back outside in her costume for some
good publicity, but the girl was unwilling to leave Ikuto’s side, not when he
was clearly broken. She refused. Now, she was just desperate for Ikuto to speak
to her.
“Ikuto?” she asked.
He shifted his eyes to her.
“Please, will you talk to me?” she begged.
He just gazed at her and then lowered his eyes to their father’s worn white
violin case.
“Ikuto, please,” she whispered. “I’m so worried about you.”
He didn’t respond.
Tears rolled down Utau’s face. “Ikuto,” she pleaded.
Finally, he turned and really seemed to see her. As if waking from a long
sleep, he blinked a few times and then breathed, “Utau, I’m so sorry.” Then, he
opened his arms to her, a small sad smile tugging at the corner of his chapped
mouth.
She sobbed and threw herself into his open arms. “Ikuto,” she cried. “I was so
worried. I thought maybe he had really hurt you.”
“I’m alright,” he whispered. “I was just… I don’t know, tired and hurt.”
Utau clung to him, sobbing.
He rubbed her back. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Please, Ikuto,” she whispered. “You don’t have to be sorry. You’re… so
wonderful. I wish I could protect you!”
He squeezed her close and she felt his heart skip a beat. “Utau,” he murmured.
“Please don’t. Don’t say that. I’m your big brother. I need to protect you.”
She shook her head. “Not this. This is too much.” She pressed her fingers to
the bruises on his throat. “Look what he did to you. And your feet—”
“I’m okay,” he told her, smoothing strands of blonde hair back from her face.
“Really.”
“Then why do you keep saying you’re sorry?” she whispered.
He glanced away. “I know… you heard me yesterday.”
Utau’s breath caught. “Oh, Ikuto! That wasn’t—”
“I know you heard me,” he forced out, “begging for that… that—”
“I know you didn’t want it,” Utau insisted. “You know that, Ikuto. I know you
know that.”
He hugged her close. “I know, but the fact of the matter is… I did it. I did
it. I begged him to take me…”
Then, they were silent, cling to each other because they were all they had left
in this life. Ikuto stroked her pale hair, comforted by her touch where he
wasn’t before. Utau just held him and was alternately held by him as he
whispered those horrible confessions to her and she cried in his arms. There
didn’t seem to be anything else they could do.
…
Yukari found Nikaidou Yuu backstage, helping with the sound check. Yukari’s
little brother, Kairi, was with him and the two were quite in charge. Standing
off to the side were the members of Utau’s band, tuning their instruments and
warming up and having fun with their rock-star lifestyle.
“Yuu,” Yukari called, interrupting their conversation.
He turned to her, smiling, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Could you come here? I’d like to have a word with you.”
“Sure,” Yuu said and handed his clipboard to Kairi. “What’s up?” he asked
Yukari once they had ducked around the corner and were out of earshot of the
kids.
“I’m not sure what’s up with Utau and Ikuto, but I need your help,” she
explained.
A haunted look crossed Yuu’s face. “With what?” he asked, forcing back a
shutter.
“I want to keep Kazuomi away from them for as long as I can. I think… I think
something’s wrong.”
Yuu’s heart began to pound.
How long ago had it been since he had nearly touched some dark secret of the
Hoshina household? It felt like an eternity, yet he could still remember every
little detail like it was yesterday. Ikuto hadn’t come to pick Utau up at the
studio for some reason and Yuu had seen Utau running on the street in a state
of panic. He had offered her a ride home, but she had jumped from his car when
he demanded she tell him what was going on. Then, foolishly, he had gone to the
Hoshina mansion, thinking he could do something to help.
He could do nothing to help those beautiful children—nothing, if there was even
something to help them with. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he could
still see Kazuomi’s cruel powerful god-like expression in his nightmares and
the terror in Utau’s pale pinched worried face. He still remembered exactly how
he had felt standing in the threshold of that beautiful house, how he felt
afterwards, how he still felt now each time he passed Kazuomi in the hallways
at Easter Corporation’s building. He felt as if he was lucky to still be alive
after crossing Kazuomi.
“Yuu?” Yukari asked. “What is it? You look pale.”
Yuu met her eyes and said seriously, “Don’t get between Kazuomi and his
children, Yukari.”
“What?” she repeated, nearly incredulous.
Yuu grasped her shoulders. “Please, don’t come between them. It’s not…”
“Not what?”
“Not a good idea, okay?” Yuu insisted.
Yukari tried to pull away from him, but he held on tightly.
“Promise me, Yukari,” he insisted.
“You’re barking mad,” she said firmly. “Let go.”
Yuu didn’t. “Yukari, please, if not for me then… do it for Kairi.”
“My little brother? What does he have to do with this?” she demanded.
Yuu met her eyes, his gaze profound with fear and concern. “Just trust me.
Please, don’t come between Kazuomi and those kids. It’s not… not a good idea.”
She looked about to protest again.
So Yuu repeated, “Yukari, please, for Kairi.”
She glanced at her little brother, busy smiling and having fun being backstage
for the concert. He brushed some dark hair out of his eyes, looking so much
like a small child in his samurai Rurouni Kenshin t-shirt, and beamed at his
sister when he noticed her. He waved.
And there was no way she could ever deny that. She would go to the ends of the
earth to protect her little brother and though she didn’t know what had gotten
into Yuu, she knew that the fear in his expression was real. Something
dangerous was brewing and who knew when the storm would reach fruition.
                                     X X X
I wanted to include more of Amu’s happiness, but I was so bored writing it I
decided… who wants to read this much boring pointless happiness? I don’t even
want to write it. So… I quit trying and got back to the good stuff.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Concert: Pt II *****
This chapter is dedicated to ZombiesMayRise. I love you for being so nice and
understanding. When the zombie apocalypse comes, let’s kill zombies together,
okay?
Did anyone miss me? I’ve been gone about a week, but I was so sick and couldn’t
sleep and need a new job and just UGH… A laundry list of problems are eating up
my life right now. Updates will probably be crazy until things get under
control again, but I’ll be here to update at least once a week for certain…
hopefully. Unless something else new and awful springs up on me. Review to make
me feel better!
                                     X X X
There was about half an hour before the concert was due to begin. Utau was
putting the finishing touches on her stage makeup and smoothing out some
nonexistent wrinkles in her dress. Ikuto was seated beside her, his face
colored with some life and small happiness though he still looked unspeakably
haunted.
“Ikuto,” Utau whispered.
He turned to face her. “Yeah?”
“At least you have Dad’s violin back,” she said.
Ikuto ran his palm over the worn case. “Yeah,” he murmured.
Utau bit her lip, kicking herself. It seemed no matter what she tried, there
was nothing she could do to help her brother. If anything, she only dragged him
deeper and deeper into his own personal hell. If she didn’t exist, if she
hadn’t been born, Ikuto would he alright. He could leave Kazuomi’s horrible
mansion, he could fight back against his torment, he could be free… if only she
hadn’t been born. Tears prickled in her eyes, threatening to ruin her makeup.
She choked them back, dabbing powder all over her face in a frenzy.
There was a soft knock on the door. “Utau, Ikuto? Twenty-five minutes till
showtime,” Kairi called to them. “Do you need anything?”
Utau wasn’t sure why her manager’s little brother was here at the concert with
them, especially backstage, nor did she understand why Kairi was suddenly so
nice to her. She and Kairi had never been on good terms with each other. Kairi
hated Utau for keeping his sister out late and making her pretty face so lined
with exhaustion. And Utau hated Kairi because he was always trying to pry
Yukari and Utau apart. Didn’t he know that if Utau had a choice, she would
spend more time with her brother? Didn’t’ he know she would rather have a part-
time job so she could help Ikuto?
But suddenly, all that had abruptly changed. Kairi was cautious, careful, more
gentle around Utau and Ikuto and Yukari. Maybe he was finally growing up, the
idiot freshman that he was.
“That’s alright,” Utau called to him. “We’re fine.”
“Thanks Kairi,” Ikuto added.
“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything,” Kairi said. Then, after a
moment’s pause, he called, “But hurry up. You don’t want to be late and worry
my sister, do you?”
Utau sighed heavily, setting aside her white powder. Okay, so maybe Kairi
hadn’t changed that much. He was still a little know-it-all, bothering the hell
out of her and trying to boss her around. Seated beside her, Ikuto chuckled
softly and Utau’s heart nearly melted. It felt so good to hear her brother
laugh. It felt like an eternity since she had even seen him smile.
There was a knock on the door again and Kairi called, “Remember, twenty
minutes!”
“Go away!” Utau shouted at the door.
This time, Ikuto really did laugh, but his face was still lined with worry,
pain, regret, and fear.
Utau bit her lower lip. If Ikuto couldn’t pull himself together in twenty
minutes and perform amazingly with his violin on stage beside her… she didn’t
even want to think about what Kazuomi would do to Ikuto if he failed in any
way, shape, or form. Her heart pounded raggedly in the cage of her ribs.
…
Amu, on the other hand, was having a wonderful day with her parents.
They had gone out for breakfast together, eating as a family like they never
did on love-hate Sundays. Then, Tsumugu dropped Midori and Amu off at the mall
for a little girl-to-girl time. They went to the bookstore and Midori bought
Amu three books, then they got pedicures, next Midori bought Amu a lovely dress
of pale petal-pink silk patterned with ornate silver and gold butterflies, and
they ended with a jaunt in the food court.
Tsumugu picked them up about an hour before the concert was due to begin and
they headed off to see Meikyuu Butterfly perform. Amu’s heart was beating with
both eagerness and joy. She wasn’t allowed music since it was something Ami
would have like and had never heard Utau sing before, but she was excited
either way. Plus, she would get to see Ikuto play the violin, something she had
wondered about since the day she learned both his secret and of his hidden
talent.
“What do you want from me?” he had grumbled, displaying his horrible portrait
of Amu. “I’m a musician!”
Amu giggled softly to herself at the memory.
The small broken family took their seats at the center of the audience. It
wasn’t the front row—that was something reserved for high-paying VIPs—but they
were probably in the fifth or sixth row and dead-center in front of the stage.
The only way Amu could have had a better seat was if she was sitting right in
the middle of the stage. She leaned forward eagerly, scanning the velvet
curtain for signs that the show was about to begin. At the side, she saw the
curtain move slightly, but that was all.
Midori chuckled, placing her hand on Amu’s shoulder. “It’s not going to start
yet, honey,” she told Amu.
Amu blushed, sheepish. “I know. I’m just… excited.”
Tsumugu looked at his watch. “There’s still twenty minutes left before show
time,” he said. “I’m going to go get some snacks.”
“Sounds good, honey,” Midori said to her husband. “I think I will go powder my
nose. Amu, you can stay here.”
Amu nodded happily, beaming at her parents. “Sure,” she said eagerly. “I’ll
hold down the seats.”
She watched as they reached out to each other, lightly holding hands as they
walked away. Amu didn’t waste this happy time wondering what had changed her
parents and made them so wonderful, loving, and kind. It was like the past had
returned to her, comforting her, like their life used to be before Ami had
died. She smiled, glancing back at the darkened stage, glimpsing the curtain
move softly again. She smiled broadly, her heart lighter and more warm than it
had been in years.
Things were going to get better now.
She was certain of it.
…
Despite what Yuu had said to her, Yukari couldn’t stop thinking about Utau,
Ikuto, and Kazuomi. She had always sensed that there was something wrong in the
Hoshina household since Souko’s strange and suspicious death so soon after her
first husband, Tsukiyomi Aruto’s. But Yukari had never had any real proof of
any real wrongness to bring to the authorities or even prove her own thoughts.
But now, Yuu’s words echoed harshly in her mind, telling her that something had
happened, some sign that she had missed.
Yuu had insisted desperately, fear in his eyes, that she not come between
Kazuomi and his step-children. The way he said it almost made her think that it
was dangerous for her, but Kazuomi wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, would he?
But Yuu had acted so strangely, pleading and insisting that Yukari not come
between them. When she hadn’t listened to him, he had brought her brother into
it. He had insisted that she do it for Kairi, as if…
Yukari shook herself brushing those thoughts away, but they soon returned in
full-force.
She had always sensed the underlying feelings of the people around her. It was
skill she had developed out of necessity as a child. She never really told
Kairi why his sister, who was only a few years older than he was, had custody
of her little brother. She thought it best that he didn’t know the truth about
their mother. It was secret she would not reveal to Kairi until she thought he
was old enough to understand the absolute betrayal their mother had cast on
them.
The most important thing in a parent’s life was supposed to be, without fail,
their children. But, for the Sanjo’s one-parent household, the children never
came first. Their mother was always concerned with keeping a roof over their
heads and food on the table, but she went about it in all the wrong ways. She
supported her family by marrying man after man after man. Soon, she didn’t even
care about her children anymore. Taking care of them was a convenient ruse to
hide what she really wanted.
She only wanted a husband and children were getting in the way of that. She
could only keep her new husbands happy and spending money and time on her until
they found out that she had two children. Then, they divorced her and she
married again. As she grew older and finding men became harder, their mother
began to blame her children for this wretched life she had to live. If they had
never been born, then she could have been happy.
For a long time, her abuse remained verbal and focused on Yukari. The young
woman had been so beautiful at that time that when her mother finally managed
to bring a man home, he saw Yukari and forgot all about their aging spinster
mother. The words grew more poisonous, scarring into Yukari’s heart and mind
and soul. Then, one night, her mother brought a man home and the man saw Yukari
and tried to rape her. Her mother, in a rage, pulled him off her daughter and
threw him out before anything could happen.
But… that was when it all started. That night, rather than comfort her child
she had nearly been badly hurt, she beat Yukari for purposefully stealing that
man’s affections away. That was the first and last time Yukari’s mother beat
her. The next day, she turned eighteen, went to the police station, and told
them everything. In a year, during which time Yukari found a job and an
apartment, she fought for and gained custody of Kairi. And ever since then,
things had been this way.
Someday, she promised herself she would tell Kairi why they never went to visit
their mother, even on holidays. But right now, it would remain her secret from
Kairi—and he had never known back when it was all happening because Yukari
always made sure he stayed with friends each night.
Now, her childhood wounds throbbed in her chest. She sensed that something was
wrong in the same way she was always able to sense when her mother had either
found, lost, or married a new man. She knew something was wrong with the
Hoshina household.
Yes, she was afraid for what would happen to Kairi if anything happened to her.
He would surely be sent back to their toxic mother or else abandoned to the
Foster Scare (1) System. She would not let that happen to Kairi, but she also
couldn’t abandon children who needed help.
So, she would have to be careful, both of Kazuomi and for Kairi and of Yuu’s
nervous watchful gaze, but she would not idly stand by while something bad
happened around her. She would do something, but slowly and carefully, being
sure to keep herself out of the line of fire.
“Yes,” she told herself firmly.
A voice cut through her. “They’re ready soon, I presume.”
Yukari jolted in shock and fear when she recognized the voice. She whirled to
face Kazuomi, her dark hair flying.
He lifted a brow, gazing at her intently.
“You startled me,” she said, tucking her hair back behind her ear.
“Startled you?” Kazuomi repeated.
She tried to smile. “It is Halloween, after all,” she said to him. “It’s a
little spooky backstage under the best of circumstances and right now, there’s
all this—” She swept out her hand to encompass the masses of Halloween-style
props for the concert. There were fake bats and spiders everywhere, skeletons
rattling in the stage fan’s breeze, and smoky holograms of ghosts waiting in
the wings.
“Right, spooky,” Kazuomi said impatiently. “Just get them ready.”
Yukari nodded. “Of course, sir.”
She watched him walk away, her heart pounding. She felt chilled, her skin
prickling with a feeling she hadn’t felt since she was child living with her
mother and all those men. She sensed danger and suddenly, she saw wisdom in
Yuu’s words, but it wasn’t going to change her mind. If anything could be done
to help Utau and Ikuto, then she would find some way to do it.
…
Utau and Ikuto exited the dressing room together. Ikuto was holding the naked
violin in his hands, holding it almost painfully close like a lifeline. His
face was pale under the powder he had left Utau apply to the dark circles under
his eyes. He gnawed at his lower lip, his blue eyes scanning the dim backstage
area. A small smile tugged at his lips, some life returning to his expression
at the thought of finally getting to play violin beside his sister’s voice like
when they were younger, when they were still happy.
Utau’s band waved and wolf-whistled when they saw their lovely lead singer
emerge from the shadows cast by the ghostly props. She blushed and smiled,
twirling in her dress for their approval. The fabric was silk, glimmering a
shade darker than coal on her creamy skin, the edge of her dress fading into
rich crimson. Embroidered into the fabric in shining silver was an ornate
spiders’ web filled with trapped butterflies embroidered in lilac, struggling.
At the throat of her dress, a spider had been embroidered into the silken
cloth, small rhinestone rubies glimmering as its hungry eyes. The straps of the
dress slipped down her shoulders, teased with ribbons of silver cobwebs, so
that she looked just like the spider’s prey.
Yukari had helped her choose the dress and it was perfect for Halloween without
being garish orange and black or a cheap costume like her band mates.
Utau dipped into a deep curtsey, lifting the dress so that the sexy slit that
went up one side to her hip parted to reveal her bare leg. Around her upper
thigh, she wore a crimson and black garter with butterfly beads jingling softly
as they hung and swayed from the garter’s edge. This was how Kazuomi wanted
Utau to appear—stunning and so innocent yet still so sinfully sexy. The band
hooted louder, grinning like jackals. Suddenly, Utau both felt beautiful and
suddenly like prey. She sensed her step-father’s approach even before Ikuto
cried out softly behind her.
Kazuomi had grasped Ikuto by his upper arm, slamming the young man back against
the wall hard. Ikuto cried out, the pain in his body spearing beyond a level he
could control. Kazuomi put his face very close to Ikuto’s, his lips moving as
he snarled something, but Utau was too far away to hear what he said. She could
tell by the way Ikuto paled to a shade of chalk-white but still nodded
hurriedly that it must have been a terrible threat.
Probably something along the lines of—“If you screw up, I’ll fuck you dry.”
Utau’s blood ran cold when she saw Ikuto’s eyes dart to her in desperate fear.
She immediately knew that Kazuomi wasn’t threatening Ikuto. He was threatening
her and Ikuto would die to protect her. Desperately, Utau wrapped her arms
around herself, smiling softly at Ikuto and trying to pretend she had no idea
what was happening.
Kazuomi shoved Ikuto back after whispering something else. If not for the wall
already pressed against his back, Ikuto probably would have fallen, but the
wall held him up, supported him. He was ghost-pale, his heart hammering so
loudly he thought it might have been a drum solo, and he couldn’t get in a deep
enough breath to sustain his lungs.
Utau approached him quickly, her heels tapping on the floor. “Ikuto? What did
he say to you?”
Ikuto didn’t answer. He merely grasped Utau and pulled her crushingly close
against his body, his fingers tangling in her pale hair. For a long time, he
just held her, his breath rattling in his lungs as he trembled on the cusp of
total fear and despair. Then, finally, he pushed Utau back slightly.
“Ikuto?” she whispered again, still gripping his hands.
He shook his head. “I’m okay. I can perform. Everything will be okay,” he
assured her.
Utau nodded because she had to believe him. She had to believe in her brother
because if Ikuto thought she didn’t trust him to protect her, something inside
of his would shatter. Then, he brother would die inside and there would be
nothing left. She couldn’t let that happen.
…
Yukari, who had been watching the small exchange from the corner of her eye,
let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She knew it was bad luck
to wish performers good luck, but whatever Kazuomi had said to Ikuto looked
like it went far beyond the good-natured threat of ‘break a leg.’ She waited
for the siblings to break from their tight embrace and for Ikuto to piece
himself back together before approaching them.
“Yukari!” Yuu whispered insistently, but she ignored him.
Ikuto’s blue eyes lit on her as she walked over to them and quickly schooled
his features into a mask. He even forced a smile. “Hey, Yukari,” he murmured.
Yukari nodded to him, her heart breaking for the pain in the depths of his
eyes. She slung her arm around Utau’s shoulder, hugging the girl close to her
side comfortingly. “Let’s take a peek outside the curtain, hmm?”
Utau smiled, just as forced as Ikuto’s. “Sure.”
Yukari pulled the corner of the curtain aside, peeking out with Utau while
Ikuto lingered behind them.
“Wow,” Utau breathed.
Yukari squeezed her in an encouraging hug. “See? You’re so popular, Utau. It’s
a full house out there, not even standing room, now.”
Utau nodded, a true smile weaving across her glossy lips. Then, she gasped
softly.
Yukari let the curtain fall shut and they both turned to Ikuto. He glanced
away, uncomfortable. He had a feeling Yukari had seen his exchange with Kazuomi
and Utau and sensed that something was wrong. He didn’t want to risk anyone
else being hurt like his mother, but didn’t know what to day. Utau rescued him
smoothly.
“Yukari, can I have a moment alone with Ikuto? I want to show him something.”
Yukari nodded, embraced Utau a final time, and walked away.
“Ikuto,” Utau whispered. “Amu’s in the audience. She’s right there in the fifth
or sixth row, right in the middle.”
Ikuto’s blue eyes brightened. “Really?”
“Take a look!”
Ikuto couldn’t resist sweeping aside a portion of the curtain and looking out.
Though his stomach flip-flopped a little when he saw all the people, he was
immediately comforted by the sight of Amu’s bright golden eyes and rose-colored
hair in the audience. She was eagerly scanning the stage, her lips in a happy
smile, and his heart soared a little.
Utau elbowed him gently. “I see that smile,” she teased.
Ikuto elbowed her in return, playfully. “Oh, be quiet,” he muttered.
Utau laughed. But she saw blood blossom in Ikuto’s cheeks, not quite a blush,
but she was happy to see it nonetheless. As many horrible things as Ikuto went
through on a day to day basis, he was still so easy to make happy and comfort.
Because of that wonderful forgiving heart beating so brokenly in his chest.
Utau would never forgive Kazuomi for hurting him. One day, she would make that
bastard pay. But right now, she just had to be careful that her very existence
didn’t cause Ikuto more pain.
“Five minutes,” Kairi called, breaking Utau from her thoughts.
Then, everyone was lost to the hustle and bustle as the concert prepared to
begin. There was no time for hurt feelings or grudges, only finishes touches on
makeup and the tuning of instruments. Then, the lights went up and the curtain
lifted and it was show time.
                                     X X X
(1) Because last time I wrote “Foster Scare System” a bunch of people thought
it was a typo. Let me explain—it’s not a typo. I knew a girl in high school who
was in Foster Care, but she never called it that. She often called it “Foster
Scare” and it’s something that’s just stuck with me. So, not a typo—purposeful
and meaningful and quite sad.
I just realized a small irony I had unknowingly created. Amu is suffering
because her little sister died and Ikuto is suffering (technically) because his
little sister was born. Did anyone else notice that? Or have you all known all
along and I’m just slow on the uptake?
How strange is it that I don’t realize my own plot creations…? (Requiem in the
Night, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Haha!)
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Concert: Pt III *****
And I was actually really torn between including a song in this chapter or
leaving one out, but then I finally decided ‘What’s a concert without music?’
Then, I fussed over what kind of song I should include, one focused on child
abuse or something else. I toyed with the idea of using Megan McCauley’s “I’ll
Pay You to Shoot Him,” because that’s about how Utau feels, but realistically,
I doubted Kazuomi would let her sing something like that. So, finally, I
settled on a song about Halloween instead. And what’s more spooky and perfect
than “This is Halloween”? (I personally prefer the original version over
Marilyn Manson’s.)
Here’s a link to how “This is Halloween” would sound if played on violin. Just
enter this part: watch?v=LyPzx7ZmWIc after the slash of Youtube’s web address.
This is how I now have to include links because Fanfiction eats them really bad
now.
The other song… I’m not going to tell you. You’ll have to read to find out what
it is!
(Man, long author’s note… Shutting up and moving on now.)
                                     X X X
Amu heart leaped eagerly into her chest, beating at the rate of a drum, as she
saw the velvet curtain begin to lift into the catwalk area of the stage. The
lights flashed across the stage, eerily lighting up the backdrop of tombstones,
crypts, and a single mausoleum. Fog slunk along the ground, swirling with the
breeze from the stage fans. A hologram of a ghost flashed across the stage,
coupled with the spooky sounds of chains rattling and unearthly screams.
Amu shivered in delight and her mother squeezed her hand, smiling at her
daughter.
Then, the music began and one spotlight flashed on the shadowed figure of
someone playing a guitar, swaying with the beat. The smoke swirled around the
figure, light playing on his costume. A little tremor of childish fear ran
through Amu when she saw he was outfitted like a werewolf. His eyes shown in
the darkness, flashing in the lights, just like a real monster’s would. But, in
typical rock star ‘Kiss’ fashion, he stuck out his tongue and probably got a
mouthful of the thick hair plastered to his face. Even so, he looked spooky and
happy.
Behind the soft eerily ethereal tune of the guitar, she heard drums begin,
hammering like the rataplan of a tell-tale heart. A second spotlight danced
across the stage, settling on a ghost seated behind a drum set all draped with
spider webs. Overhead, a fake spider broke the beam of light and cast strange
shadows on the drummer’s face. He didn’t look up from his drums, apparently
lost in the music or else trying to see where on earth his drums were through
the veil of thick cobwebs.
Two more stage lights played across the graveyard in unison, illuminating a
vampire swathed in red and black velvet with fake blood running from his mouth.
His instrument was all splattered with fake blood as well and there was a
coffin looming open behind him as if he had just risen back to life. There was
a single female backup singer in an ornate brocade-style dress, fitting in with
the vampire, to his left. She had bite marks on her throat, both her hands
wrapped around the floor microphone stand.
Amu made a little sound of delight, clasping her hands together. The girl was
so beautiful, and though she knew there were probably measures taken to assure
Utau was dressed more beautifully than the backup singer, Amu was still stunned
by the vision on the haunted stage.
A spooky announcer’s voice (which was Nikaidou Yuu’s voice) began speaking,
echoing eerily in the concert hall. “It was a long time ago, much longer now
than it seems… in a place, perhaps, you’ve seen in your dreams…”
“Or nightmares!” the backup singer screamed, breaking off into a cackling
laugh.
“If you haven’t heard Meikyuu Butterfly perform yet, then I’d say it’s time you
begun!”
The lights flashed wildly emulating lightning, thunder crackling over the
speakers loudly. The female singer cackled and laughed, the werewolf guitarist
threw back his head and howled, the ghostly drummer rattling out his drums, and
the vampire spread his darkly cloaked arms in the flashing strobes of the
lights.
Amu shuddered in a mix of fear and delight, eagerly leaning forward in her
seat.
The doors of the mausoleum at center stage banged open with sudden loudness
just as the lights grew still and the thunder faded, sending the fog swirling.
The female backup began to hum, her voice low in a chorus of ghostly “oohs.” A
final light, brighter than all the rest, blazed just before the opening of the
crypt, waiting for the dead within to walk out from those shadows. But the dead
did not walk out of that spooky prop. Instead, Utau appeared, emerging from
that darkness like a spirit herself. She lifted her hand so that the shadow
played hauntingly on her face.
Amu was awed by Utau’s beautiful dress—she was definitely so much more
beautiful and sexy than the female backup singer. For a moment, Amu was so
captivated just by the sight before her that she didn’t hear the opening lines
of Utau’s song as the starlet began a rendition of ‘This is Halloween,’ as a
celebration for the spooky holiday.
“Boys and girls of every age,” Utau sang out, stalking her way across the stage
in a swirl of fog and spider-like grace. “Wouldn’t you like to see something
strange?”
The band joined her, echoing her voice. “Come with us and you will see. This!
Our town of Halloween.”
“This is Halloween. This is Halloween,” Utau continued. “Pumpkins scream in the
dead of night! This is Halloween! Everybody make a scene—”
Here the ghost drummer, vampire, and werewolf guitarist each played out the
motions of their respective monster. The female backup singer screamed in the
background of Utau’s vocals, miming her death as the vampire attacked her.
Then, they returned swiftly to their positions on stage.
“Trick or treat,” Utau hissed. She was smiling to brightly, her face a mask of
pleasure as she slithered across the stage, reaching out to the audience with
her claw-like fingertips. “Till the neighbors gonna die of fright. It’s our
town. Everybody scream!”
The backup singer screamed.
“In this town of Halloween,” the rest of the band harmonized, Utau’s voice
leading them.
A hologram played across the stage, a disgusting slinking creature hiding in
the shadows beneath a child’s bed. All that was truly visible of it was its
glowing red eyes and the long tentacles and other strange appendages that
spilled out from beneath. Utau walked alongside the projection, grinning with
her white teeth on display.
“I am the one hiding under your bed,” she sang viciously. “Teeth ground sharp
and eyes glowing red.”
The hologram swirled away, flashing in time with the stage lights so that a new
one could take its place on the smoky stage. This one was hidden in the shadows
of the mausoleum where Utau had emerged, only it’s long twisted fingers and
some strange movement easily visibly. It was almost scarier for what couldn’t
be seen of it.
“I am the one hiding under your stairs,” Utau continued, reaching out. “Fingers
like snakes and spiders in my hair.”
“This is Halloween,” the band chorused. “This is Halloween.”
“Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Halloween!” the backup singer purred out, her
voice almost like a scream even though it was so soft.
“In this town, we call home, everyone hail to the Pumpkin Song!” Utau sang,
flitting across the stage like an escaped bat. “In this town, don’t we love it
now? Everybody’s waiting for the next surprise!” Hr voice dropped, silky and
sultry as she pawed out at the audience. “Round that corner, man hiding in the
trash can… something’s waiting now to pounce and how you’ll—”
The female backup singer screamed so loudly that she even drowned out the sound
of Utau’s voice as she spoke the word.
“This is Halloween! Red and black, slimy green,” Utau said, gesturing to one of
her band mates in turn as she spoke a color.
“Aren’t you scared?” the backup singer spoke out, echoing.
“Well, that’s just fine!” Utau snarled. “Say it once, say it twice. Take a
chance and roll the dice. Ride with the moon in the dead of night.”
“Everybody scream!” the band chorused. “Everybody scream!”
A ghost swooped down over the audience and a few people did.
Almost soothingly, Utau sang, “In our town of Halloween.”
There was a moment of musical interlude where Utau and the audience could catch
their breath. Then, a new hologram played across the stage. It was a clown,
dressed gaudily in red and black and green, riding a unicycle across the stage.
He leered at the audience, barely sparing even Utau a glance.
“I am the clown with the tear away face,” Utau drew her hand across her face,
pulling her lips oddly to garble her voice, “Here in a flash and gone without a
trace.”
The lights flashed and the clown was gone, the stage seeming oddly naked
without his presence. Utau quickly moved to center stage, captivating the
audience once again in her spidery dress, with her beauty and her voice alike.
“I am the ‘who’ when you call, ‘Who’s there?’ I am the wind blowing through
your hair…” Utau sang softly, her voice both haunting and beautiful. “I am the
shadow on the moon at night, filling your dreams to the brim with fright.”
“This is Halloween, this is Halloween! Halloween! Halloween! Halloween!
Halloween!” the band chorused.
“Halloween! Halloween!” the backup singer drawled after them.
“Tender lumplings everywhere,” Utau continued, reaching out to the audience
imploringly. “Life’s no fun without a good scare. That’s our job, but we’re not
mean… in our town of Halloween. In this town, don’t we love it now? Everybody’s
waiting for the next surprise.”
Amu suddenly noticed a peculiar swirling of the smoke at the side of the stage,
it was boiling, bubbling, pouring out from somewhere. She feared it might be
something wrong, but Utau merely turned to face the strange cloud of fog that
began to thicken and spread. She smiled at it, her face lighting up further
with delight and eagerness. Amu sat back, her heart pounding oddly.
“Skeleton Jack might catch you in the back and scream like a banshee—”
The backup singer howled out a scream that made Amu’s skin crawl.
“Make you jump out of your skin! This is Halloween, everyone scream!” Utau
stretched out her hand in welcome towards the thick mist, returning her
attention to the audience as she sang. “Won’t ya please make way for a very
special guy?”
The smoke bottomed out, swirling in the breeze of the fan, and Amu realized
that there was a deep dark shadow standing there.
“Our man Jack is King of the Pumpkin Patch!”
A light abruptly shone on the shadowed figure and Amu recognized Ikuto
immediately, dressed in black as he was. His blue eyes shone in the light, dark
shadows beneath them, but even so, he was smiling. Amu flushed, feeling his
eyes on her, but that was impossible, right? How could he pick her out of the
countless people in the audience? She was being silly.
“Everyone hail to the Pumpkin King now!” Utau finished, taking a breath.
“This is Halloween, this is Halloween!” the band chorused. “Halloween!
Halloween! Halloween! Halloween!”
Ikuto lifted his violin, settling it beneath his chin and gently resting his
cheek on the warm wood. He was reminded of his father, imagining his loving
parents looking down on him from the heavens, and was filled with strength. His
lips curved into an even fuller smile, Utau’s face lighting up to match him. It
was clear just how beautiful they both were in that moment, even against the
backdrop of the cemetery and monstrous band members.
“In this town, we call home, everyone hail to the pumpkin song!” Utau sang
sweetly.
Then, with a waving gesture of her hand, she swept herself aside and
relinquished center stage to her brother. Without further ado, Ikuto began to
play, the music of the violin more like a spooky cry than any sound the backup
singer had been able to make so far. For a long while, he played out the music
of ‘This is Halloween,’ echoed by the ending trains of “La, la, la, la-la-la,”
as Utau ended the song as well. Then, in a flourish, they ended the song
together and swept into a low bow.
Amu learned the true meaning of the phrase ‘standing ovation,’ clapping so hard
she thought her hands might break.
…
Yukari was standing to the side of the stage, just out of sight of the
audience, but in a position where both Utau and Ikuto could see her. They were
both beaming with complete and innocent pride, Ikuto cradling the violin in his
fingers and Utau gripping her mic tightly. They both hadn’t looked this happy
in a long time and Yukari smiled at them both when they glanced over at her.
Kairi was standing at her elbow, holding variety of clipboards and other
things. He had was trying to look business-like and might have managed if it
wasn’t for the fact that he was completely shocked by Utau’s true talent. It
was one thing to hear her studio albums, but live was something else entirely.
His jaw was practically on the floor.
“She’s amazing, huh?” Yukari asked her little brother, hugging him from the
side.
He blushed, realizing how he had been staring, but admitted, “Yeah, she is.”
Then, something strange and horrible happened.
The band began to play the opening chords of a song that was not supposed to be
on the set list. Yukari saw Utau’s face pale and the girl glanced desperately
over at her manager. Yukari whirled around, releasing Kairi, prepared to put a
stop to this moment right here and now, but…
Kazuomi was standing in the threshold of the backstage area, cast in shadows,
his face hard and his eyes cold.
Yukari froze, her heart skipping a few beats. She had never felt too helpless.
Business-like again, Kairi leafed through his many clipboards upon hearing the
strange music, searching for the name of the song. When he couldn’t find it on
the list, he turned to Yukari and said, “I can’t find this song on the set
list. What is it? Is this a mistake?”
Yukari’s mouth ran dry as she stared at Kazuomi.
His lips split into a horrible grin.
Yukari was powerless. All that flashed through her mind was Utau’s pleading,
insisting that she not have to perform this song at the concert. She would do
it for the studio, but not at the concert, not when her brother was there, not
when he could hear the meaning in those words…
“Sis?” Kairi asked, looking at her curiously. “What song is this?”
She swallowed, forcing herself to turn back to Utau an Ikuto on stage. She
hoped her expression wasn’t too hopeless, wasn’t as desperate and afraid and
helpless as she truly felt inside, but it must have been. Yukari’s palms grew
cold and clammy.
The stricken look that crossed Utau’s face when she saw that there was nothing
her manager could do to get rid of the horrible song was terrible. But the
young girl forced herself to put on a happy face and turn back to the stage.
She couldn’t risk Kazuomi’s wrath falling on Ikuto. Despite herself, she opened
her mouth and forced those words out.
“Hey,” Kairi said again, tugging insistently at Yukari’s sleeve. “What song is
this?”
But she didn’t answer him. She couldn’t.
At her back, she felt Kazuomi’s eyes burn into her. She had no doubt that he
had done this on purpose, eating up his stepchildren’s happiness like a monster
that fed on their pain. If only she knew the truth, if only there was something
she could do to help, but in that moment… there was absolutely nothing she
could do.
The song merely played and Utau was forced to sing.
…
Ikuto immediately recognized the chords of some music he had seen lying on
Utau’s desk, without lyrics, but he had helped her fine tune the music. It was
something their stepfather had helped compose, but he was no musician. Now, the
music sounded delightfully creepy and he began to accent it with his violin,
turning his head to glance at his sister happily.
Utau’s face was like chalk, her eyes very wide and almost tragic. Her fingers
trembled where they were clutched around the mic.
He wanted to call out to her, but he couldn’t risk ruining the performance. His
stepfather would… he shuddered, unwilling to think of what would happen to him.
Instead, he glanced at Yukari, hoping that the expression on Utau’s face was
merely part of the show as all the haunted props were.
Yukari looked equally stricken and Ikuto’s heart dropped into his stomach. He
met Kairi’s eyes and the young boy gave Ikuto a shrug. He didn’t know what was
going on either. With no real choice, Ikuto continued to play his violin,
watching his sister from the corner of his eye. He didn’t know what was
happening, but he was prepared for anything—almost anything.
“I the dark of the night, I was tossing and turning,” Utau began to sing, her
voice oddly tremulous. “And the nightmare I had was as bad as can be. It scared
me out of my wits. A corpse falling to bits! Then I opened my eyes and the
nightmare was… me!”
She swallowed, glancing at Ikuto as the music played out. He was watching her
closely, his blue eyes cautious and concerned, but didn’t recognize any more
than the music. Even so, she could see that he sensed something was wrong with
her. Yukari was lingering at the side of the stage, offering Utau a weak smile.
In the shadows, like the monster from the song, Utau could see her stepfather
watching her. She bit her lip, forcing her voice to come out strong and firm.
If she screwed up this performance…
“I was once the most mystical man in all Russia,” Utau sang, swaying her hips.
“Ooh ah ooh,” the backup singer supplied.
“When the royals betrayed me, they made a mistake!”
“Ooh ah ooh.”
“My curse made each of them pay, but one little girl got away,” Utau’s voice
cracked, but she gathered her resolve. “Little Anya, beware, Rasputin’s awake!”
The backup singer joined Utau for the chorus, their voices blending and yet
somehow clashing. “In the dark of the night, evil will find her. In the dark of
the night, just before dawn… ooh, ooh, ooh!”
“Revenge will be sweet,” Utau continued, stretching her hand up over her head
as if offering judgment on herself.
“When the curse is complete,” they sang together, faces pressed close over the
backup singer’s mic.
“In the dark of the night,” the band sang in unison.
“She’ll be gone!” Utau shouted.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh,” the backup singer chorused once again.
“I can feel that my powers are slowly returning. Tie my sash and a dash of
cologne for that smell. As the pieces fall into place, I’ll see her crawl into
place,” Utau’s voice cracked, emotion filling her. Her heart was pounding so
loud she could scarcely hear it over the drums. “Dasvidanya, Anya, your grace…
Farewell!”
“In the dark of the night, terror will strike her!” the band sang, the female
backup singer leading them.
“Terror’s the least I can do!” Utau screamed.
“In the dark of the night, evil will brew,” they sang again. “Ooh.”
Utau sang, “Soon, she will feel that her nightmares are real—”
“In the dark of the night,” the rest of the band supplied.
“She’ll be through!” Utau howled.
“In the dark of the night,” the female backup and Utau sang, “evil will find
her.”
As she sang, the female backup had sauntered her way to Ikuto’s side and
whispered in his ear that he was to accent the lyrics. Then, as the line
finished, she slipped her microphone beneath his chin, smiling flirtatiously at
him. He had a horrible feeling suddenly. He was no singer so why would his
stepfather want to include him in the singing unless… could the lyrics have a
deeper and more dangerous meaning that Ikuto had originally realized…? What if…
Kazuomi intended to act out this song on Utau? Ikuto’s blood ran cold.
Ikuto wet his lips and desperately sang, “Find her!”
“In the dark of the night, terror comes true!”
“Doom her,” Ikuto sang at the backup singer’s instruction.
“My dear,” Utau continued, ignoring her brother as best she could when he
glanced desperately over at her and then off to the side of the stage where
Yukari and their stepfather were standing in the shadows. She knew he had
realized what the song meant at that moment. Her own heartbeat drowned out the
music. “Here’s a sign. It’s the end of the line,” she sang.
“In the dark of the night, in the dark of the night, in the dark of the night…”
Ikuto’s violin cut off sharply and Utau glanced at him. His face was livid with
rage and he looked about to break away from the performance. No, she thought
desperately. If he did that, Kazuomi would— She made a wild dash across the
stage, her fingers closing around his elbow a second before he made his move.
He looked at her, their eyes meeting, and she pleaded with him with her
expression. Then, the next line crashed into her sidelong. Desperately, she
lifted her hand as if summoning all her evil forces to her.
“Come my minions, rise for your master! Let your evil shine! Find her now! Yes,
fly ever faster!”
“In the dark of the night, in the dark of the night, in the dark of the night,”
the rest of the band sang, their voices rising higher and higher with each
repetition of the phrase.
“She’ll be mine!” Utau screamed, spreading her arms.
Then, she became aware of Yukari and Kazuomi shouting at each other. Yukari
wanted to drop the curtain, to see what other uncalled-for changes Kazuomi had
made to the script tonight, but Kazuomi wouldn’t allow her. His large hands had
closed around her forearms, their faces so close they were nearly nose to nose.
Yuu appeared on the sidelines, his face chalk pale. Kairi watched, his eyes
wide. Ikuto turned to face them both, his face flushed with anger. Utau’s heart
skipped a beat.
In the audience, no one paying attention to her any longer, Amu leaned forward
in her seat for a new reason. Why did Ikuto look so strange? That expression on
his face… it was so… angry but also frightened, the pure terror that had been
in his face the morning she had found him chained naked on his stepfather’s bed
and learned of his secret. Something was very wrong on that stage and she
glimpsed something happening just out of her line of sight, off stage.
What was going to happen—?
The curtain abruptly dropped, special-effect fog billowing beneath the fabric
and flowing out over the audience. There was raucous applause, everyone
thinking this was part of the show, but Amu’s heart began to pound and she
wasn’t so sure.
                                     X X X
The first song was Nightmare Before Christmas’s “This is Halloween.” And the
second was “In the Dark of the Night,” from Anastasia. I own neither.
So the concert stretched out into four parts… Do things ever work out the way I
plan them?
Still probably a once a week update until my life comes back under control.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Concert: Pt IV *****
I’m totally pissed at Fanfiction. It removed one of my Lemon Series stories,
Lemon Egg. If it removes anything else, I am going to relocate to another site
using the same penname so just google me if my stories or account are suddenly
gone.
                                     X X X
Ikuto had enough self-control left not to throw aside his father’s violin aside
and strangle his stepfather, but not by much. Instead, he thrust the violin
into Kairi’s bewildered arms, making the boy drop the many clipboards he was
holding. He was barely aware of Utau still clinging to his sleeve, shouting
something at him.
All he could see was that smug bastard’s grinning face, cast in shadows.
His heart was pounding so loudly, the blood rushing through his ears, that he
couldn’t hear anything else. Yukari and Yuu both grabbed at him, but he shook
them off, tearing away from both the adults. For a moment, Kazuomi looked a
little afraid, but not for long.
“You!” Ikuto snarled. “You won’t touch her! You’ll never touch her!”
Kazuomi remained silent, clearly pleased with himself.
“That’s why you have me, you asshole!” Ikuto continued to shout.
Because the boy was dangerously close to shouting out their little secret,
Kazuomi decided to silence him. After all, Yukari and Yuu were both watching
and he knew they suspected something of him, suspected something as wrong with
his family and his household. He didn’t need the police on guard for another
suspicious death, like Souko’s.
“Oh, calm down, Ikuto,” Kazuomi said, waving away Ikuto’s feelings like gnats.
“It was merely a song.”
His eyes gleamed cruelly, crossing over Utau.
She felt naked, like his gaze was a physical touch on her exposed skin. She
couldn’t get in a deep enough breath to sustain her parched lungs, her heart
throbbed. Suddenly, it was that night all over again, the night Kazuomi had
kissed her. Her lips felt soiled, her throat going dry at the memory. She cried
out softly, releasing Ikuto to stumble breathlessly backwards.
“No!” she gasped.
Ikuto whirled back to look at her when he heard that little sound. He saw the
fear in her face, the same expression he had seen on his own face the night
Kazuomi had made him look in the mirror while he was being taken. Utau looked
like a corpse, eyes wide and shadowed and sunken deep in her head, teeth
clenched down on her lower lip, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. A
terrible fate loomed up against her back, its shadow falling over her pale
body.
Kazuomi chuckled.
Red coated Ikuto’s vision, swallowed up everything he could see. Then, he swung
at his stepfather with single-minded rage.
Easily, Kazuomi’s hand closed over Ikuto’s thin wrist.
Ikuto was strong, stronger than he had been that distant Friday night when
Kazuomi had forcefully kissed Utau and she had screamed for her worthless
brother to come save her. Then, Ikuto’s body had been cold and numb from lying
on the bathroom floor for so long. Now, he was whole and enraged and a little
bit frightening.
But…
He was still only a seventeen-year-old child.
He was just a young boy who had been raped for ten years.
He was merely a child who had grown up mostly without love or comfort.
He was so fragile and frail and, though his body was strong, his mind was weak
and easily shattered.
When Kazuomi caught Ikuto’s wrist, preventing him from striking, a bubble of
panic revealed itself in Ikuto’s sapphire-blue eyes. Kazuomi could feel his arm
trembling, like a broken bird, regardless of how strong he was in his rage and
his blood surging with adrenaline. Ikuto was still only a broken little child…
He could not stand up to Kazuomi’s power and influence, he couldn’t even hope
to. Neither could Yukari and Yuu, looking on with wide eyes.
Kazuomi’s mouth split in a wide Halloween grin.
Utau screamed, her voice echoing eerily in Ikuto’s head.
Then, Kazuomi punched him in the face. Once, twice, three times, a fourth…
Yuu tried to pull Kazuomi off the boy, shouting. Yukari attempted to free Ikuto
from his grasp, screaming.
Kairi dropped the violin, the instrument letting out a painful twang-oing as it
hit the floor.
The band scattered into the mix in a whirl of bad costumes.
But it was hopeless, less than hopeless.
Black spread across Ikuto’s vision, unconsciousness sucking him greedily into
the void between sleep and awake, between life and death. The last thing he
heard was Utau screaming his name, the lyrics from the song bouncing around
inside his mind like a premonition. He might have whispered that he wouldn’t
let that happen, but he couldn’t be sure.
…
Amu stared desperately at the red-velvet curtain, glancing at her mother and
father seated on either side of her. They were comfortably reclined back,
patient as only secure adults could be, but Amu’s heart was beating so loudly
she thought it might have been a drum solo. People in the audience began to
murmur, looking at the set list to see if this delay was scripted or random.
There were strange sounds coming from backstage, shouting and struggling. The
curtain wavered.
Then, all went still.
After four long minutes, the curtain rolled up and the music began anew.
What had happened?
Things on stage didn’t look any different, the props and spooky backdrop were
still in place, fog swirling across the floor. But the band looked different.
Utau’s eyes were red-rimmed, her make-up smeared and smudged. Her voice started
off weak and tremulous, but slowly returned to its former glory. At her back,
the band continued to play with great talent, but they didn’t seem to be having
as much fun anymore. There was no sign of Utau’s violin-playing brother.
Though Amu waited and looked for him, Ikuto did not reappear on stage for the
rest of the night.
…
Ikuto could hear music, pounding uncomfortably against his aching head. He felt
as if he had been hit by a train and his mouth tasted like blood, his throat
painfully dry. Weakly, he forced his eyes open, momentarily blinded by a flash
of bright stage lighting as it played across the upper catwalk. Pain speared
through his head. Disoriented, he looked at his surroundings. Then, his
stomached reeled in shock and horror. He was backstage, but the ground was very
far away.
His stepfather… had put him up on the metal catwalk, among the lights.
The stage looked miles away, dizziness rocking his body. He could see Utau
dancing below him, working her buns off to put on a performance and probably
not make it any worse for him. He shuddered, the song lyrics racing through his
mind again. When he heard that song, heard the subtleties in the lyrics, he had
gone off the deep end. He had always known that his stepfather wanted to take
Utau, but he had thought that so long as Kazuomi had him to rape and abuse, he
would leave Utau alone. That song had destroyed that fragile hope that Ikuto
had.
He had a sudden feeling that it was only a matter of time before Kazuomi made
his move on Utau, regardless of anything Ikuto did to try to protect her.
Maybe, another suspicious death would surround Kazuomi and Ikuto would be
removed from the picture. Then, Utau would be alone… so painfully alone… and
Kazuomi would destroy her.
The song tormented Ikuto even more than how far he was from the floor.
A light swooped past his head, humming on its wires, and his heart leaped into
his throat. The catwalk was a dangerous place and he didn’t want to be up here
even under the best of circumstances. Now, knowing that Kazuomi wanted Utau and
therefore probably wanted Ikuto out of the way, he was especially nervous about
the dangerous of the sweeping lights and wires.
What if there was an ‘accident’ up here?
What if he was killed by a light crashing into his head?
What if he was decapitated by a wire?
His blood and body would rain down on Utau’s performance, ruining it, and the
audience would merely think it was part of her gory Halloween show. Utau would
be the only one who would immediately know that he was gone from her life and
he doubted anyone would really miss him.
Only Utau would miss him…
But now, maybe Amu would…
Trembling, Ikuto gripped the cold metal railing of the catwalk and pulled
himself onto his knees. Agony speared through his head, making his incredibly
dizzy. He rested his forehead on the cool metal, focusing on breathing, and
then got his feet underneath him. The cuts on his feet only caused him more
pain, but it helped him not to think about how high up he was.
A spotlight swung past his head again, humming and whirring. Fear welled up in
his throat, choking him like a cold stone. He dropped to his knees, panting for
breath, and didn’t bother trying to get up again. Instead, he crawled, the
grates biting into his palms. Finally, he reached the ladder and carefully
climbed down. Trembling, he put his feet on the sturdy floor and then slid to
his knees, panting for breath. For a long moment, he just sat there, pulling
the pieces of himself back together.
Then, a cold hand rested on his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” he said softly, assuming the hand belonged to Yukari or Yuu.
The fingers clenched down on his shoulder, nails digging into his flesh
painfully.
He yelped, grabbing the wrist, and turned his head quickly to face the owner of
the hand. Utau was standing just behind him, wrapped in a scrap of filthy and
blood-spattered cotton, naked beneath it. Her wrists and ankles were circled
with bruises, her throat marred with hickeys, and her lips were hideously
chapped and bruised.
Ikuto’s heart plummeted. “N-no…” he whispered.
Tears welled in Utau’s violet eyes. “Why didn’t you protect me?”
He pulled her close, holding her tightly, stroking her hair. “No, I did. Utau,
I always did…”
She pushed at him, nails raking his chest. “No! You didn’t… You left me! You
left me alone! And he—he—he—”
“No,” Ikuto whispered desperately. “Utau, no. Please…”
She broke down, sobbing helplessly, her body nothing but bones and bruises
beneath that tattered cloth. Ikuto held her tightly, his eyes squeezed shut.
This wasn’t happening… this wasn’t happening. But it was. All around him, his
surroundings melted into countless images of Utau being taken by Kazuomi. Her
naked limbs were so thin, her voice raw and ragged from screaming, her
porcelain flesh stained with bruises, blood spilling down her legs… Ikuto
squeezed her tighter in his arms, stricken by all the images.
“No!” he screamed.
“Ikuto!” Utau wailed, screaming for him to save her as she was raped again and
again.
“No!”
“Ikuto!” she screamed, crying, voice breaking. “Ikuto!”
“No! No!”
“Ikuto, wake up!” Utau shouted at him. “Wake up!”
“No!” he howled, mortified.
“Ikuto! Wake up, please! You’re dreaming!”
Suddenly, a cascade of icy water poured over Ikuto, rushing into his mouth and
nose, choking him. With a sharp hacking cry, he lurched upright, gasping in
agony as pain speared through his skull. Kazuomi was standing over him, holding
a cup of ice water.
“Shut up,” the man said bitterly.
Ikuto gasped, his eyes scanning his surroundings desperately. Just to his left,
Utau was seated beside him, gripping his hand tightly. Her violet eyes were
red-rimmed from crying, her make-up smeared, but she smiled softly at him,
brushing some damp hair from his forehead.
“It’s alright,” she whispered.
Kazuomi grabbed Ikuto by the front of his shirt, yanking him up from the
dressing room couch. Ikuto stumbled, the cuts in his feet tearing. “No, it’s
not alright,” their stepfather snarled. “You never finished performing in the
concert and you’ll have to be punished.”
Utau whimpered. “No, please, Kazuomi… it was only—”
“Shut up!” he shouted and backhanded her cruelly.
Utau cried out in pain, cupping her face.
“Stop it!” Ikuto threw himself against Kazuomi, making the larger man stumble
back, but Ikuto’s head whirled with dizziness and pain and he slid helplessly
to his knees. His fingers were knotted in Kazuomi’s suit coat. “Stop… it,” he
gasped. “Don’t… don’t touch her… Don’t touch… Utau…”
Fresh tears welled in Utau’s eyes.
Kazuomi merely chuckled, grabbing Ikuto by his night-dark hair and dragging him
to his feet. “And if I do?”
Something lit in Ikuto’s hopeless eyes. “I’ll kill you if you touch her.”
“Kill me?” Kazuomi repeated, incredulous.
Ikuto nodded. “Yes…”
Kazuomi put his face very close to Ikuto’s. “And what if I take her ‘in the
dark of the night’ when you’re not around, when you’re off at work? What then?”
Ikuto wet his lips. “Don’t hurt her,” he whispered pleadingly. “You have me.”
Kazuomi merely stared at his worthless stepson.
“You have me,” Ikuto repeated. “And I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t… hurt
her…”
A small cruel grin pulled at the corner of Kazuomi’s lips. “Whatever I want?”
“Ikuto, no—” Utau protested, but Kazuomi raised his hand threateningly and she
fell silent with a whimper, her hand going to her already-brutalized cheek.
Ikuto glanced at her, closed his eyes, and then looked back at his stepfather.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Whatever you want.”
“Good,” Kazuomi said.
Then, he released his hold on Ikuto’s hair. Weakly, dizzy, the boy fell
backwards, his head cracking hard on the floor. For a moment, he stared up at
his stepfather, his battered mind playing tricks on him. His stepfather was a
monster on the inside, but not on the outside. He merely had a face like
granite, but a grinning visage full of sharp teeth and blood-red eyes bearing a
knife leered down at Ikuto. Then, once again, darkness greedily took Ikuto
away.
                                     X X X
Ah, I finished playing Alice Madness Returns today. The last chapter was so
good, so creepy!
Nice long chapter to make up for my lack of updates. Still most likely weekly
updates. I need life to come back under control now, please.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Aftershock: I'll Do Whatever You Want *****
Ugh, life… How’s everyone else doing?
                                     X X X
Ikuto had never truly thought about the meaning of the words he had spoken the
night of the concert. He hadn’t thought about what he was condemning himself
to, what power he was giving his stepfather. It was more power than the man
already had over him. All he had been thinking about on that dark Halloween
night was protecting Utau. He didn’t care what happened to him just so long as
the lyrics of that song never came true, just so long as Kazuomi never came to
take Utau in the dark of the night. So, he had spoken those words without
thinking.
“I’ll do whatever you want…”
For two days, things had passed in the usual-though-far-more-brutal monotony
for Ikuto. The night of the concert, as soon as they arrived home and nearly
right in front of Utau, his step-father had brutally taken him while his head
was still ringing from the blows to his face. The next two days were a blur of
being taken harder and harder and with more frequency. It was as if Kazuomi was
trying to use him up before he got rid of him. Ikuto bore it, feeling his body
tear and begin to die all around him. It was almost like hell, almost worse
than hell, but he couldn’t protest.
“I’ll do whatever you want…”
That was what Ikuto had said, unthinking, desperate to protect Utau. Well, now,
Kazuomi was taking great advantage of that and he seemed to be enjoying every
single minute of the terrible brutality Ikuto was bearing. He seemed to relish
each strike of his hand that left bruises on Ikuto’s creamy skin, each twist of
his hips that made the boy cry out, each time he made Ikuto whimper in agony,
every single moment of pain and rape. Then, finally, the passage of two days
was over and everything changed. Looking back, Ikuto would desperately wish
that things hadn’t changed at all.
If faced with the choice between the brutality he had lived with for those two
days and what was to happen after, he would have chosen that what occurred in
those two days go on forever and ever and ever, until the day he could escape
his hell with Utau. But…
“I’ll do whatever you want…”
And Kazuomi was happy to take advantage, more than just happy. He was
overjoyed, the sick sadistic bastard.
Now, Ikuto was lying on the tile floor of the bathroom, naked, shivering with
cold. His body throbbed, blood trickling from the cleft of his cheeks, and he
tried to get in a deep enough breath. Kazuomi had had a go at strangling him,
leaving heavy bruises on the boy’s thin throat. He coughed, tasting the seed in
his mouth, and tried to force himself into a sitting position. His entire body
trembled with pain, cold, and that horrible used feeling that just wouldn’t or
couldn’t be washed away.
The bathroom door crashed open with a bang and Kazuomi tossed a terrycloth robe
down on Ikuto’s prone form. “Put that on,” he snapped. “Get up. Stop that
sniveling.”
Ikuto whimpered softly, clenching his teeth to prevent the sounds from
escaping, and slid his arms through the sleeves. For the warmth and a way to
hide his naked body, he was at least grateful for, but Kazuomi didn’t give him
a moment of respite. The moment his trembling fingers had knotted the belt, he
grabbed Ikuto’s already darkly-bruised wrist and yanked the boy to his feet.
Ikuto cried out, his body screaming in agony, and fresh blood ran down his
thighs.
“Shut up!” Kazuomi snapped and backhanded him.
Ikuto’s eyes blurred, his legs stumbling along with the rest of his body, as
Kazuomi dragged him from the bathroom. He glimpsed Utau’s white face, peeking
at him from the threshold of her bedroom. Her violet eyes were red-rimmed from
crying and her pretty face was pinched with terrible worry. Ikuto wanted to do
something to reassure her, but he just couldn’t. He could taste the blood in
his mouth just as easily as she could probably see it. They both knew he wasn’t
alright. They both knew what Kazuomi was doing to him.
“Hurry up,” Kazuomi snapped and shoved Ikuto forward.
His face cracked painfully into the wall, leaving a smear of blood, and he
heard Utau close her door. ‘Good,’ Ikuto thought, ‘Don’t watch this, Utau.
Don’t watch him destroy me…’ Then, to a God he didn’t believe in any longer,
but to Heaven where he was certain his mother and father were watching over him
and crying, he prayed, ‘Please, don’t let him truly destroy me.’
Kazuomi shoved him again, enjoying watching him stumble in pain. After what
felt like an eternity, they made it to the garage. He opened the rear door for
Ikuto and the boy eagerly collapsed on the seat, panting for breath, both arms
wrapped around himself like a shelter. Kazuomi slammed the door and got behind
the wheel.
Ikuto wasn’t really paying attention to what happened after that. Kazuomi ran a
few errands in the seedy district of town, leaving the car running as he
stopped first at one shop and then at another. Then, he drove Ikuto and the
Mercedes to a strange office building that Ikuto hadn’t seen before. Its front
was speckled with graffiti, its windows barred, and it was without a name.
Immediately, Ikuto knew something terrible was going to happen to him here and
his blood ran icy-cold.
…
Amu had greatly enjoyed both Utau’s concert and the happiness of her parents,
but she was worried for Ikuto. After his disappearance from the stage at the
concert, she hadn’t seen him in school on Monday or Tuesday. Utau was there,
but her face was chalk-white beneath her dark wig and her eyes were red-rimmed
and distant. Knowing what happened to Ikuto at his home, Amu was very concerned
for him, but there was nothing she could do. She had tried to talk to Utau, but
it was as if the idol was in another dimension. She didn’t even hear Amu’s
voice.
So, Amu just waited, waited for when Ikuto would come back to school and some
semblance of normalcy would return.
But things weren’t all bad. After all, at least her parents were happy and
hadn’t hit her in two days. She didn’t understand why they were suddenly so
happy, but she wasn’t about to ask and risk upsetting them. Midori had taken
her shopping for a lot of pink and white clothing, beautiful things that Ami
would have wore and therefore should have been forbidden to Amu, but she didn’t
ask about that either. She merely soaked up the love and good fortune. It felt
greatly like a lull between two immense waves crashing upon the rocky shores of
her life.
Amu sighed as she dried the dishes, quietly putting them away.
“Honey?” Midori called to Amu.
Tsumugu as seated on the couch, absently watching the news after a delicious
dinner.
Amu came to join her parents in the living room, sitting down on the sofa
between them. Midori was working on some needlepoint, bringing together a
stunning image of butterflies visiting a faerie house made of flowers, petals
floating in the wind. Amu smiled, remarking how beautiful it was, and Midori
revealed to Amu that it was a gift for her. Amu smiled, her heart warming.
“Your mother and I have something to tell you,” Tsumugu said suddenly, muting
the television.
“What?” Amu asked, trying to ignore the sudden thudding of her heart.
“Well,” Midori flushed, smiling. “Tomorrow, I thought we’d play hooky and go
into the city to do something really special.”
“Don’t you have to work?” Amu asked them.
Tsumugu nodded, but Midori shook her head. “I took the day off, just for us,”
she said with a smile. “Doesn’t that sound nice, sweetie?”
Amu smiled wider, nodded. “Yes. Definitely. I’d love to go,” she said eagerly.
Midori smiled and reached out to tuck some pale rose-colored hair behind Amu’s
ear. “That’s wonderful sweetheart,” she said softly, wistfully. “Maybe you’d
like to get your hair cut, maybe even dyed.”
A shiver ran down Amu’s spine, but she bit it back and smiled at her mother.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that…” And after all, things had been so good
lately and she didn’t want to risk doing anything to upset her parents, not
when they were finally happy—not when they were finally happy with her, not
when they had finally gotten over Ami’s death and begun to love Amu again.
…
Kazuomi yanked open the rear door of the Mercedes, but didn’t give Ikuto a
chance to scramble from the vehicle. He grabbed the boy’s wrist and dragged him
out, throwing him down harshly on the concrete. Ikuto whimpered, his body
shuddering in agony, and was unable to get to his feet immediately. Kazuomi was
not patient and kicked him in the ribs, sending him rolling. Ikuto’s body only
stopped when it cracked against the brick façade of the building.
“Get up,” Kazuomi snarled, gathering his purchases as Ikuto dragged himself to
his feet. Then, he grabbed his worthless stepson by the elbow and hauled him
into the building, the door slamming shut behind them like the sound of prison
doors. It echoed, rattling Ikuto’s bones.
Kazuomi went right up to the front desk and signed in.
Ikuto lifted his face, trying to understand what was going to happen to him,
clutching the robe he was dressed in tighter around his nudity, but the moment
he lifted his eyes, Kazuomi struck him across the face. Like a slave, Ikuto was
forced to lower his gaze again.
The woman rose from the behind the desk, her large perfect breasts straining
against her low-cut silk top. It didn’t look like she was wearing a bra and she
winked, smiling flirtatiously at Kazuomi. “You know,” she said, lightly
adjusting his tie. “You and I could make a film together.”
“Tempting, but no,” Kazuomi said, shooing off her hands.
A film? Ikuto’s heart began to race, goose bumps breaking out all over his
naked skin beneath the terrycloth robe that no longer felt like adequate
protection from anything. What kind of film?
“This is the boy you called us about?” the woman asked, moving her hands from
Kazuomi to Ikuto.
She pried Ikuto’s fingers away from the neck of his robe and pulled the fabric
open, bearing his naked chest. Ikuto yelped, struggling desperately to wrap his
body in the robe again, but it was hopeless. Kazuomi merely grabbed his arms
and yanked them behind his back. Tears of humiliation and fear welled in
Ikuto’s blue eyes—what was happening? The woman now easily opened his robe,
exposing his pale battered body completely, and looked him over like cattle
about to be auctioned off.
“He’s very beaten,” she remarked to Kazuomi, her fingers mapping the dark marks
that spanned Ikuto’s throat, chest, hips, and ankles.
“I was told you were looking for someone like that for the part,” Kazuomi said.
She nodded, humming softly as she considered the gash in Ikuto’s stomach. “We
are, but this is quite brutal,” she murmured and pressed her finger into the
wound. Ikuto cried out and she removed her hands, fingers coming away with
fresh blood. “And these wounds are very fresh. We need to be careful for the
spread of disease.”
Kazuomi nodded, “I understand that, but he’s mostly virginal. I’m the only one
who’s taken him.”
The woman brushed some hair back from her face, considering Ikuto. She was
silent as she explored the more sensitive parts of his body, pinching his
nipples and cupping his quivering genitals. When she forced his legs apart and
pushed her fingers into his dry and abused opening, he sobbed, crying out in
pain. She didn’t stop touching him, her fingers spreading open his anus and
pressing down on his prostate, looking into his poor body and he felt Kazuomi’s
semen begin to drip from deep inside him. Her free hand cupped his length and
stroked expertly, forcing him into unwilling hardness. After a moment, she
finished her inspection, but still didn’t pull the robe closed over his
nakedness. The cold air bit at his bare flesh.
“He’s perfect,” she told Kazuomi. “How old did you say he was?”
“Seventeen,” he told her.
She smiled, stroking Ikuto’s face. “He looks so much younger.”
Tears rolled down Ikuto’s pale face.
“How much did you want?” she asked.
Kazuomi grinned. “Doesn’t quite matter to me. I just want you people to use
him, put his face into as many films as you can.”
The woman smiled sickeningly. “Oh, that won’t be a problem.”
Ikuto closed his eyes, wishing this away, wishing it was only a nightmare, but…
it wasn’t. It was his new reality and desperately, he prayed and pleaded with
any benevolent god that would listen. ‘Please,’ he prayed, ‘Don’t let this
happen to me.’
But no one got off the cross.
No one came to save him.
                                     X X X
It just gets worse and worse for Ikuto. (And there are a lot of strange pornos
out there, not that I watch it, but I watch a lot of CSI and Criminal Minds.
They actually have something called ‘snuff films’ where people have sex and
then kill the person they had sex with, though they’re kind of an urban legend.
Saw that on an old CSI episode today.) And what’s the deal with Amu’s family,
too?
Questions, comments, concerns?
Still weekly, here…
Review!
***** What Kazuomi Wants *****
Mr. Atrocious: I’m glad to see you again! Most of what you’re talking about, I
have cleared up in future chapters. My main goal in this story was to try to
give some reasoning to the abuse (something I was unable to do in my first
child abuse awareness story, Behind the Walls), but it is incredibly hard to
put reason to or justify why someone would do anything like this… Hope that
clears it up when you get to this chapter! And I’m moderately crushed that you
don’t like CLAMP. They’re my idols!
Read on, all!
                                     X X X
After the woman inspected his body, she continued to discuss things with
Kazuomi as if Ikuto wasn’t even there, standing naked and bruised and crying
with his wrists trapped behind his back by Kazuomi’s rough hands. She asked if
Kazuomi wanted copies of the footage, which he did, and if she wanted the raw
or edited version, he wanted them raw. She asked if he wanted to watch, which
he did, or if he wanted to participate, which he did not. Finally, they sorted
out all the details and Kazuomi released Ikuto’s wrists.
Desperately, the boy pulled the robe closed over his nudity, backing quickly
away from them. “Please,” he whispered to his stepfather, his eyes wide and
tragic. “Please, don’t do this to me. Please, please, don’t… I’ll do anything
else—”
Kazuomi merely grinned at him like a toothy animal that had spotted a fresh or
easy kill. “I make plenty of money with your sister’s music. I should make
money off of you, shouldn’t I?” he asked.
Ikuto bit his lip, his blue eyes desperately darting. “Please, don’t do this…
please!”
“You said you’d do whatever I wanted, Ikuto,” Kazuomi hissed. His face grew
cruel, lips pulling into a twisted threatening smile. “Or should I bring in
your sister.”
Ikuto jolted as if he had been burned, tears welling in his eyes anew. Slowly,
he shook his head. “No, please… don’t hurt Utau. Just… go ahead and use me…”
Kazuomi grinned. “I was planning on it.”
After that, it was a blur of events that Ikuto didn’t want to remember.
A young man and woman came out of the back hallway, smiling. The young woman
was all long legs and arms with long silken strawberry-blonde hair brushed into
waves. Her breasts were large and round and her behind was heart-shaped, but
her nudity was hidden in a leather dominatrix getup. The young man was fine-
featured, much of his face similar to Ikuto’s with aristocratic features and
wide-set eyes, but the similarities ended there. He had dark hair and deep
black eyes, his skin dusted with a light tan and glowing with health.
Beaming, the young woman introduced herself as Soprano. The young man didn’t
speak—he was busily studying Ikuto, staring at him with eagerness and a pink
flush decorating his cheeks. They looked like they loved their jobs.
Ikuto shuddered, goose bumps rising on his naked flesh.
They took the two packages from Kazuomi, grabbed Ikuto’s arms, and led him into
the bowels of the building. In a warm sparsely-furnished room, they stripped
him out of his robe and inspected his naked body just as the woman at the desk
had. They spread him open, chatting amicably all the while. Ikuto felt sick,
tremors of cold and terror wracking his body.
“Did they want him flushed out?” the woman asked the man.
“He’s all full of cum,” the man said. “No one wants to stick anything up there
when it’s all filthy like that.”
“Should we record it?” she asked.
“Probably,” he continued.
They nodded to each other, ignoring Ikuto’s trembling form.
The man left the room for a moment and returned with a camera. He set it up on
a tripod, carrying it towards the bathroom. The woman moved into the attached
bathroom and began clattering around. Ikuto watched, stricken, as she filled a
large syringe with lukewarm water. Then, they both returned for him.
Ikuto tried to back away, but the walls closed in. “No, please,” he begged.
“Please, don’t.”
“Don’t worry,” the man said, grasping Ikuto’s wrist and pulling him away from
the wall. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Getting enemas can be fun,” the woman said, smiling at Ikuto like a toothy
animal. “Very stimulating.”
“You might even like it,” the man said.
Ikuto pleaded with them, dragging his feet, trying to hide behind his hands and
long arms, but it was hopeless. He was a fly trapped in a hungry spider’s web.
There was no way he would be able to escape from this and even if he could, he
wouldn’t. He had to protect Utau at all costs. Even so, he knew there was no
possible way he would ever like this… no matter what.
There was a sort of bench in the bathroom with leather shackles. The pair
pushed him down over it, keeping him on his knees with his buttocks raised and
exposed. He struggled reflexively, his heart pounding wildly, so they bound his
wrists to the rough bench and then his ankles. He squirmed desperately,
pleading with them, his voice breaking in terror.
They didn’t stop.
The camera began to whir.
He heard the sound of curtains opening.
Suddenly, through the fog of tears and fear, he recalled that his stepfather
was going to be watching all this. He bit his lip, choking back his tears. Yes,
Kazuomi could do whatever he wanted to Ikuto and Ikuto would always take it, to
protect Utau, but that didn’t mean he had to give that bastard the pleasure of
seeing him break down. Ikuto steeled himself, gathering all that as left of his
reserves to be able to withstand this new terror.
Soprano gently touched his back, her voice soft and pleased. “See now,” she
said, “it’s not so bad once you relax.”
The man picked up the syringe, pushing the plunger a little to empty it of any
air bubbles. Then, he spread Ikuto’s cheeks with one hand and pushed the nozzle
of the syringe into him. The plastic was hard and cold, tearing at the fresh
wounds inside his rectum. Then, the man began to depress the plunger and warm
water poured into Ikuto’s body. He whimpered, biting down on his lower lip and
hands clenching into fists. It was horrible… being filled and filled and
filled. The pressure mounted, building to the point past pain, but still the
pair added more and more liquid until Ikuto thought he would tear apart.
Then, finally, they finished filling his bloated body. He thought it was over,
but it wasn’t… They fitted him with a large plug, stretching his anus even
wider and he felt warmth run down his thighs. The phallus pushed inside him,
effectively corking the massive amounts of water and it was far too large to be
pushed out naturally. Then, they left him like that—alone, save for the camera
whirring behind him and his stepfather watching from somewhere. He bit his lip,
fighting the agony and the urges filling his lower body. A single tear leaked
out, but that was all he allowed.
Ikuto wished—he prayed—that the enema would be the only thing they did to him,
but it would only be the first of countless tortures that day. And all were
filmed. And all were watched by Kazuomi. And all would be spread over the
internet. And Ikuto’s worst fear—that people would know that he allowed his
stepfather to rape him—would be spread everywhere like a cancer.
Still, that one tear was all he allowed himself… at least for now.
…
After what felt like an eternity, they allowed him to use the bathroom, but not
in a dignified manner. They left him chained to the bench, merely putting a
bucket beneath him and pulling out the massive plug. He tried to resist, but he
just couldn’t. And they filmed him through it all. No one even watched dogs
going to the bathroom the way they eagerly watched him… and the camera… the
horrible camera…
“Please,” Ikuto whispered after they unchained him and pushed him into the
shower to clean up. “Please stop this.”
The young man and woman merely smiled. “Don’t worry,” they said in unison.
“Now, we can start the real fun.”
Ikuto’s blood ran cold, but at least they left him alone in the bathroom. When
he got out, there were some clothes left folded up on the vanity for him. When
he unfolded and truly saw them, he wasn’t sure if it was worse to be naked or
to dress in these terrible clothes. But, in light of what had just happened to
him, he was eager to hide any bit of his body that he could. So, he quickly
dressed, wincing in pain. His lower body felt so raw, so used, and he knew it
was only going to get worse.
He pulled on the midnight-blue leather pants, trying to pull them up over his
hips, but they were far too low-slung. If he wasn’t careful, they would slip
down and expose him easily. The matching leather top was cropped a few inches
beneath his nipples, baring most of his thin midriff, and there was a heavy
metal cross at the center of his chest. At least the collar was high, allowing
him to dip the lower half of his face within it and hide. After fastening on
some leather armguards and a black belt around his hips, he was as dressed as
he was ever going to be though the clothes did nothing to protect his nudity.
His stomach and shoulders were both obscenely naked and prickled with goose
bumps. He was afraid, but determined not to show it.
He emerged from the bathroom, clutching his fingers in the leather tightly,
wincing as it chaffed his raw skin with each movement. The man and woman were
waiting for him, dressed in equally strange costumes though theirs hid more of
their naked skin and bodies, each holding something that made his heart stop.
The woman had a pair of fluffy blue cat ears which she promptly fitted on his
head, beaming at him like he was some kind of cute animal. The man had a
medium-sized butt plug with a fluffy tail attached to it. Ikuto took a step
back, his hands stretched out to ward the terrible thing off, but it was no
use. The leather pants were easily pulled down despite the belt and the tail
was fitted within his raw behind.
He whimpered, squirming as the man wriggled the plug within his aching body a
little. “Please, let me go,” he begged. “Don’t do this, please.”
The man patted him on the back, grinning. “Don’t worry,” he said.
“This is the fun part,” the woman said.
“Now,” the man continued.
“We get to fuck,” Soprano finished.
Ikuto’s throat closed over.
They led him from the sparsely-furnished room down a short hallway, up a flight
of stairs, and into a beautifully elaborate room. It looked like something from
an earlier century with a massive canopy bed draped with velvet at its center.
Mirrors hang in strategic places, toys lay displayed in others, and cameras
were set up everywhere. The heat was blasting, making the room feel like a pit
in hell.
The woman peeled off, her breasts bouncing in her leather bustiere, and waited
patiently on a small chaise lounge. The man turned to Ikuto, advancing on him.
He began to tell Ikuto about the script for the porno, what was going to happen
and how Ikuto was to behave, but the words went in one ear and out the other.
All Ikuto could hear was the ragged beating of his own petrified heart. He
whimpered softly, reaching out with his pale hands to ward the man off, but
then the bed was at his back and it was all over.
The camera hummed, rattling in the background like the soundtrack to a
nightmare. Somewhere, out of Ikuto’s sight, he knew Kazuomi was watching and he
tried not to cower like a child. After all, he had been raped before… just… not
so long or so brutally… or in front of a camera, knowing it was going to be
sold and put on the internet and so many people would see him like this…
A lump the size of a man’s cock welled up in his throat, but he swallowed it,
just as he had to swallow other things that night.
All for the camera… in front of the camera… in front of his stepfather… and
later, after it was published, everyone would see it…
But there was nothing Ikuto could do. It was like that choice ten years
ago—it’s you or Utau—and he would never submit his little sister to this. He
would protect her with everything he had, with his life or his death because by
now, he was convinced that this was his stepfather’s plan to kill him. These
people were just going to use his body up until there was nothing left of him.
Then, they would dispose of his shell and all that would be left of him would
be the endless tapes of his destruction.
He prayed that Utau would never lay her beautiful eyes on these terrible things
he was forced into.
He prayed that he might make it through this ordeal intact or at least alive.
But… no benevolent God was listening to his prayers. They ruined more than just
his body that night.
                                     X X X
I don’t think I’ll ever quite look at Black Lynx’s costume the same way ever
again. Who’s with me? (Sometimes, I wonder where my strange sick mind comes up
with ideas like that…)
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** A Meeting in the Rain *****
I’d like to applaud and thank those of you that handled the dark turn this
story took so well. As for those of you that are whining, either get over it or
go away. It has to get worse before it gets better, but there will be light at
the end of the tunnel—fear not! Moving on…
Okay, a lull in all the brutality… but still angst. *sings* If you’re angsty
and you know it—clap your hands! Err… *ahem*
                                     X X X
Utau hadn’t seen Ikuto in nearly a week, not since two days after the terrible
performance at the Halloween concert. Ikuto’s words were still ringing in her
head—I’ll do whatever you want… just don’t hurt her!—and Kazuomi’s sick smile
was still lurking there in her mind’s eye like a monster. Wednesday night,
Kazuomi had taken Ikuto from the mansion and since then, Ikuto hadn’t come
home. He hadn’t gone to school and hadn’t gone to work… It was as if he had
vanished, as if he was…
Utau was getting more and more concerned for her precious brother. Where was
Ikuto? What was happening to him? Was he hurt? Was he bleeding? Was his body
broken? Was he… dead?
She was vaguely aware that Hinamori Amu, Ikuto’s little friend, was trying to
talk to her at school, but Utau was just too consumed with worry to even bother
talking to the other girl. Her head was filled with endless images of what he
could be going through, dark twisted things that she wished she hadn’t even
been able to think of. But she was only troubled more and more. If she could
think of sick things like that, she couldn’t even imagine what Kazuomi would be
able to imagine up.
She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly as if that would
protect her. What had Kazuomi done to him? Where had he taken him? Was his poor
body buried in some shallow grave somewhere?
Without Ikuto to pick her up from the studio at Easter, Utau walked blindly
home. A dark storm loomed on the horizon, lightning flashing and thunder
rumbling. The air was scented with the dampness of rain and a cool breeze blew
down from the mountains. Utau was barely aware of the weather, her mind
unfocused with worry and lack of sleep. She had been too concerned for Ikuto to
even lie in her own bed. It haunted her to know that Ikuto’s bed was empty
while Kazuomi came home alone each night.
Where was Ikuto?
The first drop fell, followed quickly by another.
Within moments, it began to pour.
Utau didn’t even notice. She just walked and walked, her sandaled feet
splashing through puddles. Her wig grew heavy, weighing down on her head, but
she didn’t bother to pull it off. Her clothes were soaked, clinging to her
body, and she shivered. Her teeth absently chattered, sounding like castanets
beneath the drumbeat of the rain.
Then, suddenly, the rain wasn’t falling on her head and shoulders anymore. She
looked up, blankly staring into the boy’s face for a moment.
He smiled at her, hazel eyes bright and honest. “Hi,” he said, his voice filled
with restrained and careful cheer. “You look like you might be having a bad
day.”
She resisted the urge to say, ‘You have no idea,’ but her throat closed over
and she worried that if she dared to speak, she would start crying. She simply
stared at him, violet eyes wide and bruised-looking.
“How about I buy you a bowl of ramen and get you out of the rain?” he offered.
Utau shied away, half a mind to turn her back on him and move on. After all,
she had a lot more important things to worry about than just being out in the
rain. Somewhere, maybe Ikuto was caught in the cold rain, too, and she was far
more concerned for him than she was for herself.
“Hang on,” the boy said, grasping her sleeve gently and tugging her back
beneath the shelter of his umbrella. “You’ll catch your death. Listen, I’m sure
someone cares about you and wouldn’t want you out in the rain like this,
right?”
Utau’s throat tightened, her eyes burning with tears. He was right… Ikuto
wouldn’t want her out in this rain, forgetting her own health because she was
too worried about him. If she got sick in this rain, he would never forgive
himself, even if it wasn’t his fault. A single tear welled up in her violet
eyes and rolled down her face, disguised by the water dripping from her bangs.
The boy smiled softly. “Alright, good,” he murmured. “So, how about that ramen?
Nice and hot. It’ll warm you up—my treat.”
Unable to speak, Utau merely nodded.
“Good, good,” he said gently. Then, he guided her gingerly half a block up the
street and into a small ramen stand, bringing her in out of the rain and into
the warm shelter of the joint. He closed his umbrella, shaking off the rain
with a soft sigh and leaning it in the corner with a few others.
“Welcome!” the young dark-haired man behind the counter said mildly. “Ah, it’s
you! Souma Kuukai, right?”
The boy nodded. “That’s me,” he said. “I’m surprised you remembered.”
The young man barked a laugh. “Come on, I’ve never seen anyone eat so much
ramen in one sitting! I had to remember you!”
Kuukai grinned at him. “I’m flattered.”
“So, what’ll it be?”
Kuukai glanced at the strange wet girl, wondering what she might like to eat.
Much to his surprise, she ordered for herself before he could even ask and it
wasn’t a typical dish he would have expected a thin and beautiful girl like her
to order. “Salt noodles, extra firm, with extra back fat and topped with
seasoned egg,” she said almost on autopilot. Truth be told, food was the
farthest thing from Utau’s mind, but that was what she always ordered and the
words just fell out of her mouth automatically.
The young man behind the counter chuckled. “Well, the little lady definitely
knows what she wants,” he remarked.
Kuukai nodded. “She certainly does,” he said. “Well, I’ll have the same.”
Then, he pulled out a stool for Utau and gestured for her to sit. She did,
staring at her folded hands in her lap without speaking for a long time. Kuukai
and the young man behind the counter both looked at her with concern. When she
didn’t even look up when her steaming ramen was placed in front of her, Kuukai
grew even more concerned for the strange girl he had gathered up on the street.
But, then again, maybe he shouldn’t have been gathering strange girls to start
with.
“Hey,” he said gently, touching her elbow.
Utau jolted, her wide tragic eyes turning to look at him. She just stared at
him for a long moment, seeming uncomprehending of the entire situation, even
the bowl steaming in front of her.
“Are you alright?” Kuukai asked her finally.
Her teeth chattered.
“Did something happen?” Kuukai asked her, now beginning to think that this was
far more than a bad day for this girl. “Should I call the police?”
Utau jolted, the words flying from her mouth like escaping doves. “No!”
Kuukai was taken aback. “But—”
Her violet eyes narrowed, rage overcoming her pain. “I don’t need any help!”
she snapped at him. “I can take care of…” her voice cracked, her fingers going
to press at her lips, “…myself…” Then, her eyes welled with tears and she
positively broke down sobbing into her hands. She couldn’t take care of
herself—without Ikuto, she was lost and alone and vulnerable. She needed him!
She needed him so desperately, but was gone and she didn’t know what had become
of him.
Kuukai leaned forward over the bar. “Do you have a bathroom or anything?” he
asked the man.
He nodded. “In the back. Do you need me to call someone?”
Since Kuukai didn’t think it was a good idea to confess that he had just seen
this girl walking alone in the pouring rain and he had no idea who she was, he
shook his head. “No, we’re okay. I’m just going to… see if I can get her dried
off a little.”
The man nodded in understanding. “I’ll get you a little towel.”
“Thanks,” Kuukai said, watching the girl from the corner of his eye.
As soon as the young man handed him the towel, Kuukai wrapped an arm around
Utau’s shoulders and led her away from her neglected food. The bathroom was
rather small, but clean. He bottled them both up inside and dropped the towel
over her head, doing what he could to dry her off. Much to his surprise, the
dark wig slid from her shoulders to reveal a cascade of limp and soaked pale
golden tresses. She didn’t even seemed to notice what had happened, but he
recognized her immediately.
“You’re… Meikyuu Butterfly,” he gasped.
She whimpered, shivering. “No…” she whispered. “Don’t say that. I don’t… I
don’t want to be a part of his collection anymore. I want my brother back… I
want all this to just stop. I’m so tired… I’m so…”
Kuukai didn’t understand what he was talking about, but he had always been a
caregiver by nature and now, he couldn’t resist the urge to help her now when
most sensible people would have backed slowly away from this strange girl.
“Hey, shh,” he said gently, pulling her into a warm embrace. “It’s alright.”
She clung to him, sobbing, desperate for any warmth and kind touch she could
get. How long had she been apart from her wonderful brother? She felt as if it
had been an eternity and she just couldn’t hold herself together anymore. She
was too weak, too tired… She needed Ikuto.
Kuukai continued to hold her tightly, rocking her gently in his arms, until her
shuddering sobs reduced themselves to quiet sniffles and then finally slipped
into muted sighs. Finally, she pulled herself together, but didn’t seem quite
ready to leave his embrace so Kuukai continued to hold her. Then, she pushed
back from him, wiping her red-rimmed violet eyes.
“Thanks,” she whispered, meeting his eyes truly for the first time, “whoever
you are…”
He smiled softly. “No problem,” he said. “I’m Souma Kuukai.”
Utau nodded slowly, absorbing each letter of his name, and finally said, “I’m
Utau… Tsukiyomi Utau.”
He offered his hand to her, but she didn’t take it.
“Well,” Kuukai said, pulling his hand back with a touch of embarrassment. “We
still have food to eat. Are you hungry?”
She inhaled deeply and then nodded slowly. “Sure, why not…”
Then, Kuukai handed her the sodden wig, but she didn’t put it back on. In fact,
she tossed it into the garbage without even appearing to see it, took the towel
from his outstretched hand, and wrapped all her golden hair within it. Then,
she left the small bathroom, leaving him no choice but to follow.
Outside, a middle-aged woman gave them a terrible look, as if she suspected
them of being up to indecent activities in the bathroom. Kuukai flashed her a
little apologetic smile, but Utau completely ignored her. Strange, he thought
to himself. And it would probably only get stranger. But even so, he moved to
sit beside the strange idol he had found wandering the street in the pouring
rain.
…
The hot ramen slowly brought life back into Utau. She was grateful that her
strange young savior left her to her own thoughts while they ate, quietly
slurping his own meal and only occasionally glancing curiously at her. Finally,
she finished her ramen and sat back with a soft sigh.
“Thank you,” she said to him.
“No problem,” he assured her with a bright smile.
Never had she thought she would truly envy other people—after all, she was a
rich and famous idol. What could she possibly want that would be denied her?
Now, she realized that money couldn’t buy anything. It wouldn’t buy Ikuto’s
freedom from Kazuomi. She could never buy her brother’s childhood or virginity
back no more than she could buy the life back into her mother or father. She
sighed, handing her bowl and chopsticks over to the young man behind the
counter. Then, she pushed back her stool and moved to leave.
“Wait!” Kuukai protested, grasping her wrist. “Do you need to talk or
anything?”
Utau shook her head. “No, I’m fine,” she lied to him.
His fingers tightened on her wrist, his hazel eyes earnest. “Because I’m a good
listener,” he explained.
She nodded, trying to edge her wrist away from him. “Thank you, but I’m
alright.”
Kuukai could see that no force from heaven or hell would make this strange girl
remain with him for even a moment longer. He could see in her face that she
thought if she didn’t leave now, all her problems would catch up with her. Her
only choice was to go back into the rain and try to escape from her reality. He
made once final attempt to stop her.
“I could buy you some ice cream—”
“You’re very sweet,” she broke in. “And I’m grateful, but no.”
Kuukai released her, but followed her to the threshold of the red-draped ramen
shop. He grabbed his umbrella which was rather large and old-fashioned with a
sharp metal tip. Quickly, he handed it to her, stiffly, knowing she would try
to give it back. And she did.
“This is yours—”
Now, it was his turn to cut her off. “It’s pouring. Just take it. Later on,
when it’s sunny again, you can give it back to me.”
She saw right through him, easily seeing that this was merely a gambit to try
to see her again. She wondered what it was about her that had drawn him in and
infatuated him so—was it merely because she was an idol, because she was
Meikyuu Butterfly? Either way, it was pouring and she wasn’t in a hurry to be
soaked again. So, with a light chuckle, she agreed.
“Thank you, Kuukai,” she said, “for everything.”
He beamed. “No problem!”
But after that, Utau didn’t give him another chance to pull her back into the
shop or try something else to get her to stay longer. She put up his umbrella
and stepped out into the rain. She heard the splash of his footsteps, following
her a few paces, but the rain forced him back within the shelter of the ramen
shop. She escaped into the storm, filthy water rushing through the gutters.
Utau had a sudden and strange wish—that the rain would just wash everything
away and the world would start over completely… but that was silly.
                                     X X X
I knew I’d get Kuukai in there eventually. I just wasn’t sure when…
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** A Sort of Strength in Numbers *****
Dedicated to everyone who stuck with me and reviewed. I love you guys.
Mr. Atrocious: I probably will end this in a lemon regardless. It’s kind of a
tradition for me, but I have other things in store as well.
“Not Being Rude”: There is a diacritical mark called a macron over the “U” in
Kuukai’s name. This simulates a long “U” sound which the Japanese write with
double vowels, such as Ichihara Yuuko from xxxHolic or Cross Yuuki from Vampire
Knight. Spelling his name this way is not incorrect. If you look in the
character drop-down menu on Fanfiction, the macron if places over the “U” in
his name, so unless you put in the obnoxious macron, this is actually the
proper Japanese spelling. So, sorry, but you are wrong.
Ah, the appearance of a long-awaited character and the return of song forgotten
ones. Let’s see if he can help our heroes out.
                                     X X X
Nikaidou Yuu had been an insomniac since he was a teenager, but lately, he
hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Now, in a state one step up from total
exhaustion, he was slumped at his desk, staring blearily at his paperwork. The
words swam across the page, fluttering and peeling off and taking new shapes.
It was like watching a short film with a confusing beginning. He felt that if
he just watched a little longer, the end would come into sight and he would
understand everything.
Then, the phone was ringing loudly in his ear, waking him from his shallow
sleep.
“Hello?”
“Yuu? It’s Kairi, Yukari’s little brother.”
“Kairi? What time is it?”
“Almost seven at night,” he said. “Were you sleeping?”
“Kind of,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry,” Kairi murmured. “But my sister hasn’t come home from work yet. Do
you know where she is?”
“Probably at the studio with Utau.”
“Still?” Kairi asked. “It’s getting late and she’s usually home by now. What if
something happened?”
Yuu yawned softly. “I’m sure she’s fine. Utau’s been… challenging lately.”
“I know,” Kairi murmured. “I’ve seen her at school. She looks like… the walking
dead… and I haven’t even seen Ikuto.”
Yuu’s heart skipped a beat. “You haven’t?”
“Not since the concert,” Kairi told him.
Yuu cursed quietly.
“Do you think something happened?” Kairi asked again, his voice rising with
panic. “Do you?”
“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Yuu told the boy. “Yukari must be working with
both of them.”
“You’re sure?” Kairi didn’t sound convinced.
“Well, what could have happened to her?” Yuu asked, challenging Kairi’s blind
worry.
“I… I don’t know,” Kairi confessed. “I just… I have a bad feeling…”
“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Yuu said. “You should have some dinner and get
some sleep. It’s probably the tiredness that’s making you paranoid.”
“I guess,” Kairi whispered.
“Alright,” Yuu said to him. “Good night.”
“Night…” Then, Kairi hung up.
Yuu listened to the dial tone for a long moment, his heart pounding unevenly
behind the cage of his ribs. Why did he feel so troubled? Was it all because of
that night he had followed Utau home and been threatened by Kazuomi so
viciously? He had always felt like that man was hiding something dark and
suspicious, but he had never had any proof. Now, Yuu moved to the computer and
the wonderful resource of the internet. He would find out all he could about
Kazuomi. Then, maybe he and Yukari could make a move—but only if Yuu could find
some kind of proof… only if he could!
He wouldn’t risk it if he couldn’t find anything concrete. He feared the
influence of Kazuomi’s power. What if there was an ‘accident’ and Yuu or Yukari
ceased to exist?
…
Little did Yuu know, Yukari was having many of the same thoughts.
Utau’s behavior was incredibly troubling and she was worried for Ikuto. It
wasn’t like him to not be around for Utau. Something must have happened since
Utau had had to sing “In the Dark of the Night” at the Halloween concert.
Something terrible that had made Ikuto practically vanish and Kazuomi rather
happy. What if he was… dead? But Yukari wasn’t sure Kazuomi was capable of
cold-blooded murder, especially to his stepchildren.
Yukari was also troubled by the song itself. Those lyrics had seemed like a
simple threat, the song a villain would sing in an old Disney film, yet Utau
had been petrified by it the very first time she had to sing it in the studio.
She had insisted that she never have to sing it at the concert, but Kazuomi had
changed that. He had made her sing it in front of everyone, in front of Ikuto.
And then for Ikuto to act like that, attacking his stepfather because of the
song… It was too odd.
And Yukari had to know why. She had to find some concrete evidence of her
suspicions, lest she risk whatever wrath Yuu was so afraid of. She wanted to
help Ikuto and Utau, but she had to be certain that her little brother would be
safe before she made any moves against Kazuomi.
Now, while Easter’s building was empty except for the cleaning crew, Yukari
made her way to Kazuomi’s private office. She knew that if anyone caught her,
she would lose her job and then Utau would be completely alone here, without
even her brother. So, she would have to be extremely careful, beyond careful,
but this was something she knew she had to do.
She had to find out the truth… if she could.
…
It was raining cats and dogs outside, lighting illuminating the world in
strobe-like flashes and thunder crashed loudly. At the Planetarium, Tsukasa was
standing at the large windows, looking out at the slanting rain while his
adopted kittens played at his feet. Behind him, Tadase and Rima were seated at
the low bar doing their homework in relative silence. A half-empty pizza box
and two tall frosted soda glasses were positioned between them. Tsukasa’s own
slice and glass were lying neglected somewhere.
Rima yawned quietly, daintily, behind her hand. Her eyes were fringed with dark
circles—she hadn’t been sleeping—and the haunted look on her face told Tsukasa
that her parents had taken to fighting in the night, keeping her awake.
“It’s getting late,” Tadase remarked. “I hope it stops raining soon.”
“Me too,” Rima said softly. “I don’t want to ride home in this.”
“You won’t have to, Rima,” Tsukasa called to the two children. “I will drive
you home even if it does stop. It’s too late for you to be out alone.”
Rima was quiet a moment and Tsukasa braced for the protest he was sure was
coming. Rima was so independent, so insistent on counting on only herself that
she argued against every single thing Tsukasa wanted to do for her. But,
shockingly, Rima agreed with a small grateful nod.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Tsukasa smiled softly and then sadness touched his face. Rima’s parents’
divorce was breaking her heart—now if only her parents would only realize that.
Why did children suffer so? Was it because they were so innocent, so trusting,
so loving? Or was it just a twist of fate, an unfortunate tarot card, a bad
roll of the dice?
Tsukasa wasn’t sure he truly wanted to know.
Outside, there was a flash of headlights and a sleek silver Jetta pulled into
the Planetarium’s lot. Tsukasa didn’t recognize the vehicle and his soft heart
broke a little bit. It seemed that only children in need even found their way
to his little clubhouse and now… more were arriving. Would this pain ever end?
Or was it an eternal never-ending cycle?
In the rain, someone got out of the car’s passenger seat. They put up the
umbrella and quickly circled the car, letting out the driver and slamming the
door. Clinging to each other tightly, pressed close, the pair hurried through
the rain and into the Planetarium. Tsukasa was already holding the door open
for them, trying to keep his arm out of the cold slanting rain.
“Thanks,” one of the youths said, lowering the dripping umbrella.
Tsukasa stared, momentarily stunned, because he had ever really seen a pair of
twins so completely identical before. Then, he shook himself, smiled at them
both, and welcomed them in out of the storm. Since it was cool and his new
guests were damp, he made them both hot chocolate and brought them to the bar,
introducing them to Tadase and Rima.
“I’m Nagihiko,” the first twin said.
“And I’m Nadeshiko,” the second said sweetly.
“We’re twins,” they said in unison.
Tsukasa smiled. “I can tell. It’s a pleasure to meet you both. So, tell me what
brings you here so late?”
A moment of silence spread between them as they met each other’s eyes and then
looked back at Tsukasa, hesitating. Nadeshiko tucked some damp hair behind her
ear, stirring her dainty earrings so that they glittered in the light. Nagihiko
shifted his weight, sneakers squeaking on the metal of the stool. The silence
was practically deafening.
“It’s alright,” he assured them. “You can talk to me.”
Nadeshiko bit her lower lip. “It’s… it’s about…”
“Do you know Tsukiyomi Ikuto?” Nagihiko put in. “He mentioned this place a few
times and we just thought…”
“We haven’t seen him lately,” Nadeshiko added. “He hasn’t been at work.”
“We’re getting worried,” Nagihiko continued. “It’s not like him to miss work.”
Tsukasa’s face lined with concern. He hadn’t seen Ikuto lately either, not even
at school. And when he had seen Utau, she looked like a shadow of her usual
self—head bowed, hair limp, eyes lost on the floor with pain and worry lining
her pretty face. Tsukasa had also been keeping his eye out for Amu and was
pleased to see that she, at least, looked happy. Maybe things were looking up
for at least one of his poor children while everything seemed to be going
downhill for the others.
“Well?” Nadeshiko prompted Tsukasa when the silence stretched too long.
Startled by the sound of her voice, Tsukasa shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m
sorry. I haven’t seen Ikuto.”
Nagihiko sipped his hot chocolate, his expression forlorn and speckled with
projected stars.
Tears gathered in Nadeshiko’s eyes and she murmured a soft, “Oh…”
“Do you have any idea what might have happened to him?” Tsukasa asked the
twins.
They shook their heads, dark hair feathering against their cheeks.
“Ikuto is a very private person,” Nagihiko explained softly. “We don’t know
much about him except that he has a sister and he’s made friends with Hinamori
Amu.”
Tadase glanced over at them. “I heard her talking at school. She’s been
wondering where he is, too. She hasn’t seen him since the Halloween concert on
Sunday night.”
“Really?” Tsukasa asked his nephew, a brow lifting.
“Are there any rumors floating around school?” Nagihiko asked.
Tadase rolled his thin shoulders. “Yaya thinks he’s been abducted by aliens,”
he told them.
Nadeshiko snorted. “I bet she would!”
“You don’t think that’s possible, do you?” Nagihiko asked with complete
seriousness, looking up at the Planetarium’s ceiling in wonder.
His sister swatted him. “Of course not,” she snapped.
Silence spread between the group as each considered what might be happening
with Ikuto, Utau, and Amu. No one had anything suggestions or ideas they wished
to voice so they merely sipped their hot chocolate in silence, watching the
stars play across the ceiling.
Rima sat silently, her hands knotted in her lap. Her jaw hurt badly. How long
had she been clenching and grinding her teeth in an attempt not to smile or
cry? She shouldn’t have been comforted by the thought that there were plenty of
people who had it worse than her, but she was. She bit the inside of her cheek,
forcing back tears as her parents rage and bitter words echoed in her head. At
least, she had this place and she wasn’t alone.
There was a lot of comfort to be taken with strength in numbers, in
togetherness.
Now, sitting in the silent stillness of projected moon and star cycles, they
all seemed to be taking comfort in that simple thought—that they weren’t alone.
No matter what happened, these children had Tsukasa and he would be there for
them. The world was less bleak when one thought like that, but it really didn’t
change anything.
                                     X X X
Alright, so there are all my useless but well-meaning adults—I feel very Lemony
Snicket.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Please review! Because trolls make me sad…
***** Survival, Pain, and Questions *****
I really love Silent Hill.
                                     X X X
Thunder crashed in the distance, breaking apart the world at its seams, and
lighting blazed through the dark clouds. Rain made slow paths down the grungy
glass of the barred window, creeping like tear tracks down the pale translucent
face of an angel. Tsukiyomi Ikuto watched all this from the neatly-made bed of
the sparsely-furnished room in the terrible building where his stepfather had
left him to make… pornographic videos. He closed his eyes, blocking out the
sight of the rain, but not the images of his own tormented body.
The memories washed through him, beating his heart against their jagged edges
like a tidal wave did to the ocean’s flotsam.
The room was over-heated for the comfort of the naked people within, but Ikuto
was terrified and his skin was soaked with sweat beneath the midnight-blue
leather of the cat-like outfit he was wearing. The ears bobbed on his head and
gravity weighed on the long cat tail between his thighs. The director made him
crawl on his hands and knees, the phallus wriggling inside him and sending
spikes of agony and pleasure through him. His throat was perpetually tight,
fighting back tears of shame and agony.
“Here, pretty pussy,” the man he had been partnered with cooed. “Come here,
pussy cat, let me stroke you.”
Though he desperately wanted to put as much space as possible between himself
and this other man, he knew he couldn’t. The threat to Utau loomed over his
head, darker and greater and more powerful than any storm heaven could muster
up. So Ikuto crawled to the man like an animal, kneeling at his feet, taking
orders as if he was a slave. But Ikuto had no illusions about what he was
now—lower than even an animal. He was his stepfather’s sex slave more than he
ever had been before.
“What a sweet pussy you are,” the man purred.
Ikuto shuddered, the lights of the many cameras burning his bare skin. The man
played with him, toyed with him, stripping off the layers of leather one piece
at a time. After an eternity, Ikuto was naked save the fluffy ears on his head
and the phallus-tail pushed deep inside his body. Again, they made him crawl,
his muscles moving beneath his parchment pale skin like a work of art. He heard
someone whispering about how graceful and beautiful he looked, but it made him
feel sicker.
“Here, pussy cat,” the man called. “I’ll make you feel so good, pussy.”
When Ikuto crawled his way back, ass in the air. He practically felt the camera
zoom in on his stretched opening and was tempted to hide within his hands, but
he didn’t quite dare. He knew his stepfather was still watching. The man and
Ikuto moved from the warm floor to the bed heaped with throw pillows, velveteen
curtains swaying softly as they brushed past. Looping Ikuto’s bare wrists with
a strip of blue leather, the man bound him to the headboard, adjusting the
boy’s position.
“What a pretty pussy cat you are,” he cooed.
Then, the true humiliation began for Ikuto. Rape was one thing. It was
something Ikuto had come to expect and knew how to protect himself from, not
that anyone would ever get used to being raped. He knew what pain to expect,
what it was like to be taken dry and without preparation, what it was like to
be taken in a variety of strange and painful positions. He learned that it was
better with lube and if he was on his stomach so that the angle was slight. But
this… this was so different.
“I’ll make you feel so good, pussy,” the man whispered to Ikuto, pressing a
kiss just beneath his earlobe.
But Ikuto should have known better. After all, sex wasn’t always about pain,
destruction, and rape. When he had been shackled, he had been expecting bondage
and torture, but this was quite the opposite. Ikuto discovered in that single
moment of tortuous tenderness that he wasn’t playing the part of some beaten
bondage slave… He was playing the part of an abused sex kitten who had finally
found someone to love and give himself too.
They wanted to see him cum.
They were going to make him enjoy this.
They were going to make him cum in front of the camera.
In front of his cruel sadistic stepfather, surely watching gleefully somewhere…
In front of anyone who ever saw this tape, in front of the entire sick and
twisted world…
Tears rolled down Ikuto’s face and the filming stopped for a moment. They gave
him a drink of water and told him rather pitilessly to pull himself together.
He realized something even worse in that moment—how quickly this would end was
all dependent on him. If he took pleasure in it and surrendered, it would be
over. But, if he resisted, telling his broken mind that this was rape and it
was wrong, who knew how long he would be stuck in this room with that camera?
What choice did he really have?
“Pussy,” the man purred, pressing his mouth to Ikuto’s.
Tears threatened, but Ikuto squeezed his eyes tightly closed and forced himself
to kiss back. But surrender… forcing his body to rise and enjoy the
pleasure—rape!—being thrust upon him… was the worst thing he had ever had to
do.
Ikuto’s blue eyes snapped open, a fresh wave of nausea and pain washing through
him as the memories ebbed from his mind.
They had made him watch the tape after it was all over, to see his own face
twisted in forced pleasure and the spiraling white pearls of release
splattering his pale chest, to watch himself crawling on all fours like a
beast. He had seen every single frame of his poor body being stretched open,
penetrated, and used, semen dripping out around the man’s cock when they
finally finished. Then, the film faded out to black and the credits rolled.
There, in clear black and white, was Ikuto’s name.
Kazuomi hadn’t even had them write Hoshina Ikuto.
Tsukiyomi Ikuto was the name that rolled through the credits.
The name he so loved was a double-edged blade ripping him open in that moment.
Ikuto was certain those images would make him sick forever, haunting his
nightmares and they were there on the insides of his lids every single time he
closed his exhausted eyes. There would be no sleep for him tonight… only
endless restless nightmares and the terrifying through that… it wasn’t over.
Tomorrow, they would film again—and the next day—and the next day—until there
was nothing left of Ikuto’s body but a hole to be used and abused at anyone’s
will.
As equally horrifying as the filming had been, the way Ikuto had survived it
might have been more troubling.
At first, he had tried to picture Utau’s smiling face, to remind himself of why
he was going through this—to protect her. But that happy image wasn’t enough to
protect him. Darkness seeped through it, pain flooding his mind and heart. He
couldn’t bear the thought of her ever knowing what happened and banished the
image of her face. He didn’t want her to watch him sink into the deepest pit
possible.
He tried to anchor himself in reality, watching the movement of the man’s
shadow as he pounding into Ikuto from behind, but that was more horrifying.
And he hated to feel his own distant pleasure as the man’s long shaft rubbed
against that secret sensitive place deep inside him.
Almost suddenly, his fractured mind summoned up a picture of Amu, sitting in
the third row at the Halloween concert, smiling, with her pale hair like rose-
petals. For some reason, that image comforted Ikuto. After all, she had
discovered his secret in the worst possible way—finding him freshly used and
gagged, naked, on his stepfather’s bed—yet she hadn’t run away or taken
advantage of him, one way or the other.
At first, he had merely used her face to anchor him, picturing her smiling at
him, laughing. He remembered every happy moment he had had with her, mainly
that night at the carnival when they had rode the teacups and the carousel
together and she had clung to him afterwards.
Then, with a jolt, as his rapist’s hand wrapped around his member and began to
stroke, forcing Ikuto to feel pleasure, he had imagined that hand was Amu’s.
She was so small and gentle and he knew if they were ever more than friends,
she would be as gentle as warm water. At the time, it was all he could do just
to get through the sex, but now, he was horrified that he had even thought
that.
Amu was twelve, probably a virgin.
And he was seventeen, most definitely not a virgin.
Even if he were to remove his situation from the equation, it was still
terribly wrong.
Amu never could, or would, love him.
And he could never ask her to.
Ikuto tossed and turned on the bed, trying to get comfortable, but his body
ached from all angles. He had never thought it was possible to hurt so deep
inside himself. He dragged himself out of bed and to the adjoining bathroom. He
turned on the water to hotter than was probably healthy for his skin and
crawled beneath the spray. There, he sat, wishing, but for what, he wasn’t
sure.
Again, Amu’s face returned to him and some comfort touched his battered soul.
He tried to smile back at her, but couldn’t. Instead, he turned away, hiding
his face within the spray of warm clean water.
…
Ikuto was still slumped in the bottom of the shower when someone opened the
door to his room, the lock tumbling loudly. Ikuto jolted, his first thought
going to his stepfather. The last thing he needed right now was to be raped
again. What if his traitorous body enjoyed it, just as it had earlier in front
of the lights of the camera? His heart began to throb, the blood pounding in
his ears harder and louder than any thrust.
But there was a soft knock on the bathroom door and a man called out, “Ikuto?”
He relaxed, but only a little. He recognized the voice as that of the man he
had been partnered with for the pornographic filming earlier that day. Ikuto
couldn’t gather enough of himself to hold any real hatred for the man—after
all, he was being paid to do what he did to Ikuto and it wasn’t as if he was
going out of his way to be cruel or cause Ikuto’s fragile body more pain. In
fact, the man had been careful and gentle with him the entire time they were
tangled together, occasionally asking if he needed more lubricant or if he
needed a minute to get a drink of water and catch his breath.
“Yeah?” Ikuto croaked in answer.
The bathroom door eased open and he glimpsed the man’s figure through the
frosted glass of the shower stall. He was carrying a tray, but set it down on
the vanity once he saw that Ikuto had buried himself in the shower. After a
moment of hesitation, the man pulled the stall door open, turned off the water,
and wrapped a towel carefully over Ikuto’s hunched nudity.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I didn’t hurt you to bad, did I? That Kazuomi guy
was really insistent that I be rough with you, but that isn’t the way we work
here. It just needs to look good on camera. We don’t hurt anyone.”
Ikuto was caught between half a nod and half shaking his head. Kazuomi had
insisted they hurt him further? His blood ran cold, freezing his heart.
“Hey, let’s get you dried off and into some clothes, okay? I brought you
dinner,” the man continued. He knelt, gently pulling Ikuto to his feet but
leaving the boy sheltered within the protection the towel offered. Once he had
him out of the shower, he went into the bedroom and returned with some clothes
which he handed over with a smile. “Why don’t you get dressed, okay?”
Ikuto nodded numbly and the man left him to dry off and dress himself. A few
minutes later, Ikuto emerged in a waft of steam to find the man waiting for him
on the bed with the tray of supper.
“We were never properly introduced,” he said kindly. “I’m Alto.”
A little shiver went through Ikuto. He knew his father was long gone, but the
similarities in their names and faces just sent a tremor of terror through him.
He wondered if Kazuomi had chosen this man to fuck Ikuto simply because of the
similarities he had with Aruto. It was so sick, so sadistic, so completely and
totally fucking wrong!
Ikuto took a staggering step back, his fingers tangling in his shirt.
“Ikuto?” Alto asked gingerly.
“H-how long?” Ikuto whispered.
“Pardon?” Alto seemed to genuinely not understand.
“H-how long are they going to keep me here?” Ikuto repeated, forcing each
painful word out.
“I don’t know,” Alto said. “How long is your contract for?”
Ikuto shook his head, tears clouding his eyes. “I don’t… know.”
Alto moved towards him, whether to comfort or hurt him Ikuto would never know
because he immediately shied back and Alto stopped his advances. He lifted his
hands, palms up, placating, like someone confronted with a dangerous animal and
wishing to show they meant no harm. Ikuto still regarded him warily, hugging
his clothes tight to his body.
“Listen, I know this life can be strange,” Alto said, “but you get used to it
after a while.”
Ikuto bit his lower lip, warring with himself.
“In time, you might even come to like it,” Alto continued.
“Never!” Ikuto shouted, shocked by the vehemence and anguish in his own voice.
“I will never like it! It’s sick! He’s—he’s—he’s having me fucking raped on
film! And he’s going to show it to everyone! It will never go away!”
Alto was stunned, his dark eyes widening.
Ikuto hadn’t even realized he was backing away until the wall was against his
back. With a soft sob, he crumpled to his knees. “It’s never… going to go away…
Everyone will know… what he did to me… what I let him do to me… He’s raping
me…”
Alto moved towards Ikuto, but the boy cowered, sheltering his face with his
hands and arms. He sobbed helplessly, broken, like some toy that had been
tossed aside by a once-loving child. Cautiously, Alto knelt beside Ikuto and
touched his shoulder. Ikuto tried to pull away, but he was wedged in the corner
and there was no place for him to flee to. Instead, he remained crumpled there,
sobbing.
“You know,” Alto said softly. “It’s just like how things used to be in the
past… like with geishas, you know. Families sold their daughters to the houses
and its strange to think that things like that might still be happening now…”
He looked into the distance, his gaze far-seeing. “We think we’ve come so far,
but we really haven’t.”
Ikuto whimpered softly, sobbing.
“I’ll see if I can find out how long your contract is for, okay?” Alto offered.
Ikuto didn’t respond, merely hugged himself tighter.
For a long moment, the young man sat comforting the seventeen-year-old child,
but Ikuto never made to move to crawl out of his shell. He remained wrapped
within himself, his crying reduced to dry sobs. Finally, Alto got to his feet
and left, leaving Ikuto with his cold dinner.
What felt like an eternity later, Ikuto finally pried himself out of the corner
and lay down on the bed, his eyes dry and sore from crying.
He closed his eyes and expected exhaustion to greedily pull him into a world of
nightmares where he relived the day’s events over and over. But sleep was kind
to him—or at least, it was kinder than his waking hours. He dreamed of that
night so long ago when he had gone to the small carnival and ridden the teacups
all night, spinning himself faster and faster until there was no chance he
would ever be able to escape the ride. Then, the dream shifted and Amu was
sitting beside him, her body warm and pliant and gentle against him. He held
her, breathing in the scent of her hair while his world spiraled out of
control. She never spoke in his dream. She was merely there, a silent and
comforting presence as the ride broke apart around them and the world swallowed
them up.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Amu, Ami, and Midori *****
Eh, I’m amazed at how many people I did not fool. And here I thought I was
being so sneaky… ah, well…
Mr. Atrocious: I understand where you’re coming from when you say it sounds
like bullshit that Ikuto was so easily sold into child pornography. It would
seem that way if you didn’t take into account just how deeply underground child
porn runs. People who want it have to look very hard to find it, be part of the
right circles, and pay a lot of money to get it. (Just a few years ago, someone
sold their eight-year-old in a ring of pedophiles for a ton of money. The
police only realized this happened because the bank screwed up the transfer and
they investigated where the money came from.) If people try hard enough or want
something bad enough, they’ll do anything. Even with all our laws, child porn
is still around. People still sell their kids. All this sick stuff is very,
very, very possible.
WomanOnTheLeft: Everyone is entitled to their opinion. When you say I’ve veered
off into an unrealistic situation, I say the same to you as I said to Mr.
Atrocious (above). This is not an unnecessary arc. In a few chapters, you’ll
understand why I’m writing this arc this way. It has purpose. I never do
anything for no reason. It seems a little directionless because I needed to get
some characters (Kuukai, Utau, the adults, and such) all into position for the
next scene. It kind of broke apart the tension, but I need them in formation.
So, now they’re organized and I can roll forward. So, that’s that.
And guys, stop questioning my plotline. You’re just looking at Mona Lisa’s
hands right now. You haven’t even glimpsed her face yet. All that I’m doing has
reason and is driving everyone towards the bigger and more meaningful picture.
(And I’m not calling myself DaVinci. I’m no master, but everyone knows who Mona
Lisa is so it’s a good example.) So, question it at the end when you’ve seen
the whole picture, okay?
                                     X X X
The storm blew over and the next morning dawned sunny and warm. Amu woke as the
buttery sunlight played across her face and burned her closed eyes. Grumbling,
she rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, content to sleep the rest of
the day away. She was really tired and she hadn’t slept well last night.
Between the raging storm and her concern for her parents and herself and also
her concern for Ikuto—or the lack of Ikuto. Suddenly, she lurched up, her mind
kicking into overdrive.
She was supposed to go into the city with her mother today!
Since Amu didn’t want to risk angering her mother and earning herself a
beating, or worse, a night in the cellar with the rat again, she was quick to
leap out of bed and get dressed. At her closet, she hesitated, looking between
the pretty pink and white clothing that was certain to remind her parents of
Ami or the safe dark skull-covered clothing that was purely her. She wavered
between the two, biting her lower lip hard as she considered the implications
of each choice.
If she wore her usual dark wardrobe, she was almost certain she would be safe
from reminding her mother of Ami.
But, lately, Midori had been happily allowing Amu to wear things in pink and
white, dressing exactly like Ami would have.
She bit her lower lip, gnawing on it with worry. She pulled out a black, red,
and violet plaid pleated skirt trimmed with black ribbon with several buckles
at the hip. It was gothic and pretty, but most of all, it was safe, but… she
didn’t know why her parents were allowing her to act like Ami. Maybe they were
finally recovering from the little girl’s death so long ago. Smiling timidly at
her reflection, Amu chose a red t-shirt patterned with lacy hearts and angel
wings embroidered on the back like Ami would have worn.
Finally dressed, she crammed her feet into sneakers, in so much of a hurry that
she forgot to put on socks, and rushed downstairs. She nearly tripped over her
own feet at the bottom of the stairs, hand flying out to grab the banister, and
a small twinge of pain ran through her once-shattered arm. She hadn’t realized
how much time had passed since that terrible night in the basement, but just
two days ago, she had gotten her cast removed. There was a scar on her arm
where the bone had broken through the skin and some lingering arthritis-like
pain that the doctor told her to expect, but the cast was gone.
“Honey,” Midori called. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Amu called to her mother, rubbing her hand absently over the newly-
bared flesh of her arm. The scar felt slightly cooler than the rest of her skin
and more sensitive to the soft touch of her fingers. “I just tripped on the
stairs.”
“You should be more careful, sweetie,” Midori said as Amu entered the kitchen.
“You could fall and hurt yourself again.”
Amu pressed her hand to her arm. “I know, Mom,” she whispered, taking a nervous
step back.
“Oh honey,” Midori said, watching her daughter move fearfully back a step. She
moved to the stove, adjusting the bacon sizzling away in the pan. “Come, sit,”
she said cheerfully. “We’ll have a nice homemade breakfast and then we’ll head
out. Sound good?”
Amu nodded, smiling thinly. “Definitely,” she said and sat down, carefully
fingering the silverware lid out on the table. She had a sudden worry that her
mother might stab at her with the forks, butter knives, and spoons if she did
something wrong. Biting her lip, she forced herself to portray an outside calm
that she did not feel. Her heart was knocking against her ribcage almost
painfully, as if it wanted to batter its way out of her chest.
But Midori made no threatening moves towards Amu. She remained at the stove,
turning the bacon and cracking eggs into another pan. She hummed as she worked,
dancing lightly on her toes to the tune she set. Then, she pushed down the
toast and returned to the bacon.
Amu cleared her throat. “So, Mom, what do you have planned for us in the city,
today?” she asked.
Midori was silent for a moment, thinking, humming.
Amu’s heart raced with terror.
“Ah, I don’t know,” Midori said finally. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. We can
go shopping, get your hair cut and dyed, go out to eat, go to the music store…
anything you want, angel.”
Amu wet her lips. “That sounds good. Do you think we could go to the pharmacy,
too?”
“For what, dear?” she asked.
“Well… I could use some… more bandages…” Amu bit the corner of her mouth,
feeling like she was walking a thin line.
Midori laughed lightly. “Oh, you’re so clumsy, Ami,” she said.
Amu’s heart skipped a beat. “Mom?” she breathed.
Midori turned to look at her and Amu saw her own face reflected in her mother’s
dark eyes. For a moment, they just stared at each other—Amu, stricken, and
Midori, uncomprehending. Then, a sort of light came on in Midori’s face and her
expression changed to something Amu didn’t understand. She looked… disappointed
and even a little angry.
“Oh,” was all Midori said, adding a half-hearted, “Sorry,” a moment later.
Amu swallowed thickly. “Mom, you know… you know I’m Amu, right?” she whispered.
Midori didn’t answer.
“You know that…” she continued, “I’m Amu, right? And that Ami is…”
Midori flinched, her knuckles whitening.
“Ami is dead,” Amu finished in a whisper.
Midori threw down the fork she had been using on the bacon and whirled on Amu,
shouting, “Yes! I know my baby is dead! I watched her waste away for five long
years! I watched her die! I held her dead body in my arms! I buried her! I know
my baby is dead! I know that!”
Amu flinched, trying to put more and more space between herself and Midori.
With each shriek of grief and rage, Midori drew closer and closer to Amu, that
fork gleaming in her well-manicured hand. Then, Amu’s back was against the wall
and she had nowhere else to go. She squeezed her eyes shut, lifting her hands
to ward off her mother’s advance.
Midori was still shrieking, her voice cracking with the occasional sob. Amu
could feel the heat of her body as she approached and smell the bacon on her
mother’s clothes. She was already feeling that fork gouging into her flesh when
Midori suddenly grabbed Amu and pulled her away from the wall. Reeling, Amu
didn’t first realize what was happening. Then, she felt her mother’s warm arms
wrap tightly around her, holding her close. The fork pricked at her, but not
painfully.
“M-Mom,” Amu choked out.
“I’m sorry,” Midori sobbed, holding her surviving daughter close. “I’m so
sorry. I’m sorry…”
Timidly, Amu rested her hands on her mother’s back, gently stroking her
shoulders and loose brown hair. “It’s okay, Mom,” she whispered. “It’s
alright…”
When Midori whispered Ami’s name again and squeezed Amu closer, Amu didn’t dare
point out to her that she wasn’t Ami and that Ami was dead. Instead, she
allowed her mother to call her by her dead sister’s name and tried not to think
of all the nightmares she had had when Ami rose from the grave and took Amu’s
place in the world of the living. She shuddered, petting her mother’s hair as
she cried. That fork pricked at the back of her neck, not quite painful, but it
was there. It was almost like a warning—if Amu denied Midori this, pain would
follow swiftly.
…
After the small outburst at breakfast, Midori and Amu left the house and headed
into the city. Amu sat silently in the passenger seat, gazing out the window at
the bright sunny day beyond the glass. If the weather was any kind of example,
today should be a good day, but the weather had lied to Amu before.
In silence, they drove past Ikuto’s house, the windows of the vast mansion were
dark and there weren’t any Halloween decorations out on the porch. Amu wondered
momentarily if Ikuto and Utau had gotten any trick-or-treaters over the
holiday, but she doubted it. Ikuto had been with her at the school carnival all
day Saturday while Utau was at the sound-check for her concert. Then on Sunday,
they had both been at the concert to perform. That hadn’t left much time for
Halloween celebrations.
Amu chewed her lip as the house diminished in the rearview mirror, thinking
about the things that happened behind the beautiful walls of that Italian-style
villa. From the outside, it looked so lovely and so normal, just like her house
did. But… they truth of the matter was, Ikuto was being raped to protect his
sister from his step-father.
What a horrible thing…
She was worried for Ikuto. He had disappeared in the shortly after the
beginning of the Halloween concert and she hadn’t seen him at school all week.
She missed seeing him in their shared art class, shooting Yamabuki Saaya little
glares to protect Amu—not that Saaya had started bullying Amu again. No one was
bothering Amu since it had become rather well-known that she was friends with
Tsukiyomi “I don’t answer to Hoshina” Ikuto.
Also, Utau had gone about school all week looking like a ghost. Her face was
chalk-white and there were dark circles under her bruise-colored eyes. She
didn’t even seem to hear Amu’s voice when she tried to talk to Ikuto’s sister
in the hallways or after lunch. Constant worry creased her beautiful face.
Amu had a feeling something was wrong… that something bad had happened to
Ikuto… but there really wasn’t anything she could do about it. Even so, it
didn’t stop her from being worried for him. He was her first real friend, no
matter how strange he was. Her lips pulled slightly with the memory of riding
the teacups and carousel with him. He had been so endearing, like a small
child, and just as sweet and tender. It didn’t matter that he was… being hurt,
not to her. Ikuto was a strange, but wonderful person.
Amu sighed heavily, folding her hands in her lap. She hoped he would come back
to school soon.
She missed him.
…
A few hours later, Midori pulled into the mall parking lot, taking great care
to remember where she parked the car. (Back when Ami was alive, the whole
family had come to the large mall and parked willy-nilly without paying
attention. Then, when they were finished shopping, they had spent twenty
minutes searching for the car. It was hilarious in hindsight, but not something
they wanted to go through again.) Midori smiled softly at the memory, turning
to watch Amu get out of the car.
Amu put on a smile, but it was thin and obviously forced.
Guilt weighed on Midori’s heart and she reached out to tuck a lock of pale
rose-colored hair behind Amu’s ear. Her daughter flinched back, squeezing her
eyes shut as if expecting to be struck instead. She let out a breathy sigh of
relief when all Midori did was brush her hair back behind her ear.
“Let’s go,” Midori said. “We can do some shopping.”
“And afterwards,” Amu murmured softly, “do you think we could have some ice
cream?”
Midori reached out again and Amu flinched back. “Of course, sweetie,” she
whispered. “Whatever you want.”
Amu nervously wet her lips and followed her mother into the mall. It was packed
with people and the Halloween decorations had already been taken down to make
way for the Thanksgiving season and sales. Sometimes, it was puzzling and a
little bit stupid how fast people rushed through the holidays.
Not wanting to lose her mother in the crush of people swarming hither and
thither, Amu grasped Midori’s hand and squeezed it tight. Midori glanced down
at her daughter and smiled.
…
For a little while, Midori and Amu wandered the mall together.
Then, Midori gave Amu some money and told her to meet her at the food court in
an hour. She had something she wanted to shop for in secret and told Amu that
she could buy whatever she wanted with her spending money. Amu nodded
gratefully, smiling at her mother as Midori disappeared in the throng of
shoppers scooping up the post-Halloween deals. Then, Amu allowed herself a
small sigh of relief.
“So far, so good,” she whispered to herself, tucking the money safely into her
bra.
Amu wandered the mall for a while, keeping an eye on the clock and mainly
window shopping. She saw a few things she liked, but she wasn’t sure what she
was supposed to be wearing anymore. Was she expected to still dress in gothic
black so as not to remind her parents of Ami? Or was she allowed to wear
whatever she wanted now, even if it did remind them of Ami? Or was… was she
supposed to become Ami? She was extremely worried by Midori’s slip, calling her
Ami… She shuddered softly, hugging herself tightly.
Then, from behind a display of ghosts and goblins, a hand reached out and
clasped down on Amu’s shoulder.
                                     X X X
Yes, you were all correct. Give yourselves a hand! Amu’s parents want to turn
her into Ami. (Whether or not that plan is actually going to work remains to be
seen…) Stay tuned everyone! Let’s see if your powers of prediction work as well
on the future chapters.
Test question: who just grabbed Amu? (You’ll never guess. I know you won’t.)
Questions, comments, concerns?
Please review!
***** An Encounter from the Past *****
I just realized Amu and Ikuto’s nightmares are both coming true. Ikuto is being
forced into pornography and everyone will know what he goes through. And Ami is
taking Amu’s place in the land of the living, just like Amu had nightmares
about. Wow… thus we’ve come full circle, everyone!
Random Reader: I did notice you were gone. I figured you might have been scared
off by the sudden introduction to porno. A lot of people split around then
because they didn’t like the ‘dark turn.’ No, there will not be drugs. I think
drugs might just push people over the edge. I know I’m walking the line with
child porn. I love how you guess at whose hand it was and you make allowances
because it’s me. I am crazy. It could have been anyone with me writing. Thank
you!
ReadAllThings: I’m so glad you understood the realism that is going on in this
arc. I do put myself in the character’s shoes for each and every chapter—I also
think of all the what if, including weather, for my chapters. I put in a lot of
time and effort, which is why I’ve dropped to weekly updates. (Quality, not
quantity.) Thank you!
Read on!
                                     X X X
With a sharp shriek that was lost in the babble of the crowd of shoppers, Amu
whirled around to face her assailant and found herself staring into a face from
the past. She hadn’t seen him since, well, since Ami had died. Shortly after
her funeral, he and his brothers had moved away, but here he was, staring at
her and grinning broadly while a display of for-sale-cheap Halloween
decorations loomed up at his back. A werewolf looked about to eat him whole,
but she didn’t even care.
“K-Kuukai?” Amu whispered.
He grinned wider, flashing her a thumbs-up and pulling her past the ghosts and
ghouls covered in fake blood. “Awesome,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d
remember me. I mean, heck, I hardly remember you. If it wasn’t for this pink
hair, I think I would have walked right past you!” He fingered a long strand of
her hair, tugging on it lightly.
Amu giggled, pulling her hair out of his clutching fingers. Then, she threw her
arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Kuukai, I can’t believe this. It’s so
good to see you! How have you been?”
“Well, clearly I’ve moved back to town,” he said with a laugh. “How about you?
How have things been since…” he trailed off when he saw a dark shadow of
sadness cross Amu’s happy face. Her smile fell from her face and shattered.
“That bad, huh?” he asked.
She ran a hand through her hair. “It’s… it’s complicated,” she confessed after
a moment. “I mean, it’s never easy on parents when they lose a child.”
Kuukai pulled her into another hug, squeezing her tight. “Man, Amu,” was all he
said.
For a long moment, she just let him hold her tightly, soaking up the warm
embrace of an old friend. Kuukai patted her on the back a few times, awkward
now that people were starting to stare at him, wondering why he had been
holding this girl for so long. Finally, Amu put some space between them and
sniffled.
“Sorry,” she said by way of explanation. “It’s been rough.”
He clapped her on the shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said cheerfully. “I’ve had
no shortage of crazy chicks this week.”
Amu lifted her brow. “Crazy chicks?”
He grinned. “You are never going to believe it!”
“Just tell me,” she snapped, giving him a good-natured shove.
“You know about Meikyuu Butterfly, right?” he asked her. “I mean, you’d have to
be living under a rock not to know about her. She’s the number one pop idol in
the country.”
Amu cut him off, trying to disguise the fact that she knew Meikyuu Butterfly on
closer terms than most people. After all, how many teens could say that Meikyuu
Butterfly went to their school or that they had taken her shift at the kissing
booth? “Yeah, I know about her.”
“Well, I,” he said proudly, “know her, know her.”
Amu stared at him, confused.
“I met her on the street the other day! She was just walking around in the
pouring rain so I brought her to my favorite ramen stand and bought her a bowl.
We got to talking and—she was in disguise and everything, wearing a black
wig—but she took it off because it was soaking wet and I immediately recognized
her. I mean—it was her!”
“I get it, Kuukai,” Amu interrupted because he seemed in danger of going on
forever.
He cleared his throat, flushing. “Right,” he said and took a deep breath to
calm down. “Her real name is Tsukiyomi Utau.”
Amu nodded, hoping her face showed surprise when she already knew that.
“She seemed really troubled, too,” Kuukai said, scratching the back of his
head. “She broke down crying and mumbled something about her brother. When I
called her Meikyuu Butterfly, she said not to say that again and that she
didn’t want to be part of his collection anymore—whatever that means.”
Amu chewed her lip. “Yeah?” she asked to keep Kuukai talking. She knew exactly
what that meant, but it sounded like Utau hadn’t seen or heard from Ikuto all
week either. That was extremely worrying. If he wasn’t without Utau and he
didn’t come to school, then where was he? What was happening to him?
“And I googled her and she lives right here in town. Isn’t that so awesome? She
eats ramen like a champ, too. I thought I’d get her a bowl to-go and go over to
her house, you know? Just to visit a little—she’s gorgeous! Do you think she’d
like that?” Kuukai continued rambling on and on.
Amu was only half-listening, her mind growing more and more panicked with
thoughts of Ikuto.
“Amu?” Kuukai said, grasping her shoulder and giving her a small shake.
“Something wrong?”
She shook herself. “No, everything’s fine,” she assured him. “I’m just… shocked
you met Meikyuu Butterfly.”
Kuukai beamed, his cheeks pink. “Yeah, me too,” he said. “But she was so
amazing. Amu, I think I’m in love.”
Amu couldn’t help but snort.
“Come on,” he urged. “I could totally be in love. I’m capable.”
Amu burst out laughing, doubled over, clutching her stomach. Kuukai protested
for a moment, arguing and flailing and flapping. He looked a lot like a large
bird trying to take off, frightened by all the fake monsters around him, which
was even funnier. Then, he started laughing, too. The two of them just built on
each other, each making the other laugh harder and harder. Amu gasped, trying
to catch her breath, but she just kept laughing. He snorted in the midst of his
laughter. Then, she looked at Kuukai’s flushed red face and laughed even
harder.
“Amu?” Midori’s voice shot through them. “Who are you talking to? What’s going
on?”
The sound of her mother’s voice abruptly sobered Amu and Kuukai wasn’t far
behind. They both straightened up.
“Hi, Mrs. Hinamori,” Kuukai said with a small wave. “Remember me?”
Midori stared at him a moment, her expression very strange. There was no way
she didn’t remember Kuukai. After all, he, Amu, and Ami used to play together
all the time. Their families had been neighbors for years and often watched
over each other. Kuukai’s parents had died when he was small and he was being
raised by his four older brothers, three of which had been below legal age back
then. That left one brother, barely nineteen, to watch over everyone. He often
needed the help of more experienced parents and Tsumugu and Midori always
helped the Soumas out. And yet…
“No, I don’t,” Midori said finally. “Who are you?”
“Kuukai,” he said. “Souma Kuukai. Before Ami died, we used to live—”
“I’m sorry,” Midori broke in. “I don’t remember.” Then, she grasped Amu’s hand
and pulled her abruptly away. “Honey, you shouldn’t talk to strangers.”
“But Mom, he’s not—”
Midori cut Amu off. “Don’t talk back to me,” she said sternly, threateningly,
like parents usually did.
Fear raised the fine hairs at the nape of Amu’s neck. She snapped her mouth
closed, praying her mother wouldn’t hit her in such a public place where
everyone was watching—where Kuukai was watching—but Midori didn’t even touch
her aside from the hold on she had on Amu’s wrist. Her fingers dug in tighter
as she dragged Amu away. Over her shoulder, Amu threw Kuukai an apologetic
glance and then disappeared into the crowd.
…
Amu didn’t dare bring up how Midori had behaved towards Kuukai as they sat
together in the food court, working their way through burgers and chocolate
milkshakes, but she kept thinking about it. There was no way Midori didn’t
remember Kuukai and his brothers. In light of the other strange things that had
happened today, Amu had a sudden terrifying thought.
What if it wasn’t that Midori had forgotten Kuukai, what if she was denying
that she had ever known him?
What if she was trying to deny that Ami had ever died?
Amu wet her lips nervously, taking a sip of her milkshake. Midori had called
Amu by Ami’s name once before today and was letting her dress in clothes Ami
would have worn. The line between things that were Amu’s and thing that had
been Ami’s was blurring. Another thought struck Amu, hard and sudden, like a
freight train.
What if Midori was trying to make Amu into Ami and therefore bring her dead
daughter back to life? But… if that happened, then what would happen to Amu?
The milkshake made a sudden horrible slurping sound, startling Amu.
“Honey,” Midori said calmly, “You shouldn’t slurp. It’s not ladylike.”
“Sorry,” Amu said and set her milkshake aside.
“Now,” Midori continued, “how about a nice day of pampering? You can get a
manicure and a pedicure, even get your hair cut and dyed. Maybe even a perm.
Wouldn’t you like some cute little curls?”
Amu bit her lip and dared to whisper, “Like Ami used to have?”
Midori didn’t respond for a long moment. Then, all she said was, “Wouldn’t that
be nice?”
Amu didn’t dare disagree. If she had known the consequences of letting her
mother do whatever she wished that day, she might have argued. But, then again,
there was something that came about as a direct result from her altered hair
and she wouldn’t have changed that for the world.
…
Amu gazed at her face in the side mirror of the car as she and her mother drove
home. She had her face resting against the cool glass of the half-open window,
watching the diminishing daylight fade out like something from a movie.
Conversely, she felt like a dame who had fallen out of an old horror film. That
was her now—a stupid screaming dame waiting for a strong brave man to save her.
She twisted a strand of newly-dyed blonde hair around her finger, already
missing her natural rose-colored locks.
At the salon, Midori had directed the woman cutting Amu’s hair to trim it a
little and take off the dead ends. Then, she had her dye Amu’s pretty rose-pink
hair pale blonde and perm it with delicate soft rolling curls. Then, she had
had Amu’s hair scraped up into pigtails and tied with cute childish ribbons.
Now, staring out at Amu from the mirror, was Ami’s face as it would have looked
had she lived.
Tears pricked at Amu’s eyes, burning there in her throat like a hot coal, but
she swallowed them down.
                                     X X X
Kind of a short chapter compared to the last few, but I really didn’t want to
write endless hours of Amu and her mother in the salon. (I’ve never had my hair
dyed or permed so I wouldn’t know how to describe that anyway.) So… I skipped
it! Ahahaha! I’m the writer. I can do whatever I want! And there’s nothing
anyone can do about it! Forgive me… too much caffeine… and not enough sleep…
I loved hearing everyone’s guesses!
Some were really neat. Others… come on guys, you know Ikuto is trapped in a
porn ring. What would he be doing at the mall? I think the most interesting
guess was Hikari. (Bravo RabbitandHorseLover13.) The other I liked was Utau and
a lot of people guessed her. But, sadly, you were all wrong. (A few of you did
guess correct, but also listed practically every single cast member so… not
much credit there.)
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Calm Before *****
Another chapter of Ikuto’s pain with a small side of Amu’s. So, in the words of
Garcia from Criminal Minds, “Regroup, look at pictures of baby pandas, and go
back in.”
Oh, Introducing the Not-So-Epic Return of ParadiseAvenger’s Recommendation
Board!
Penultimate by Basse Cerise. (It’s her very first fanfiction and I quite liked
it. So, if you read, please review!)
                                     X X X
Alto (1) had been with the in the pornography business for a few years now,
since he turned eighteen and needed a larger source of income to support
himself and his little sister. They had escaped their rough home life only to
discover that the real world was a cold and cruel place. Pornography was really
only a few steps up from hooking, from selling his body, but it paid more and
it was safer. So, at first, Alto bore it. Now, he was rather used to it and
even enjoyed it. But it didn’t matter anyway. Doing this put food on the table
and kept clothes on their backs.
Now, he was suddenly uncertain of the dark world he had immersed himself in.
Had he been overlooking bad things just like the adults he had hated when he
was trapped in a bad home life? He felt the old wounds that should have healed
by now cracking open and bleeding anew. It had all started, lurking in the back
of his mind, since Hoshina Kazuomi—Easter’s big cheese and a rather rich man
whom Alto had always wanted to meet—brought his step-son into the underground.
It was unnatural how eager Kazuomi was to see his step-son tormented and
destroyed, hurt far beyond the constraints of film and special-effect-makeup.
And the kid’s own reactions were more of a sign than anything. After the first
filming, Alto had brought the boy some dinner only to find him cowering in the
shower as if his body would never come clean again. There was something so
close to breaking in that boy’s face and body. Destruction worse than death
waited for him on the other side of the darkness.
Tsukiyomi Ikuto… There was something very wrong with his situation.
And Alto knew it.
He just didn’t know what to do about it.
One porn star’s word wasn’t enough to even threaten a man like Kazuomi, but
Alto was filled with the urgency that he had to do something. If he didn’t… he
would turn into one of the useless adults he had so hated as a child. He would
become one of the people who had all the power to help, but never did. He would
never turn a blind eye to darkness like that. So, he had promised the crying
Ikuto that he would find out how long his contract lasted without really
thinking about how he would find that out.
Now, he was faced with a similar problem that two other adults had faced across
the city two nights ago. He needed information, but it could cost him
everything if he was caught. And even if he did find out, what would it mean
for Ikuto anyway?
Alto gnawed his lower lip, caught himself resorting to bad habits he thought he
had broken, and stopped.
His bare feet slapped on the cool tile as he made his way from the dormitory
area of the building, passed the filming rooms, and finally made his way into
the areas of offices where new talent was scouted and money was counted. (In
the basement, the films were edited, packaged, and shipped out or posted on the
internet. Alto had never been in those rooms. He tried not to think about where
the films of his naked body went.) Then, he reached the main office, peeking in
through the wire-laced window at the rows of grey filing cabinets.
Hesitation prickled at him as he was reminded of the consequences if he screwed
up and was caught. Why was he doing this anyway? It wasn’t as if he owed Ikuto
anything, but… He would not be one of those useless adults that did nothing to
help people who really needed it. If he saw someone injured on the street, he
wouldn’t be able to just walk on by.
So, he slipped a paper clip and a bobby pin from his pocket, glanced up and
down the hallway, and then knelt before the lock. It was easy to pick and
within moments, the office door swung open. Alto glanced around again and
quickly stole into the office, closing the door softly behind himself. He gave
his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness and then fished a small penlight
from his pocket. Shading it with his hand so it wasn’t so easily visible, he
made his way quickly to the filing cabinet marked ‘R through V’ an opened the
top drawer.
Mumbling the alphabet to himself, he found the file marked Tsukiyomi Ikuto and
swiftly pulled it out. He heard footsteps in the hallway and quickly doused his
penlight, waiting with baited breath, his heart pounding in his chest. But the
footsteps moved past the door and diminished down the hall. He let out a soft
breath of relief, turned the small light back on, and shone it on the file in
his hands. The light played over the dark words and Alto flipped through the
pages quickly in search of the contract.
There were a lot of notes about the condition of Ikuto’s body—injuries and
bruises, cuts and scrapes, bleeding… Alto’s heart broke a little bit. He had
never imagined that the company he worked for would even be involved in
something so cruel. How could they pay Kazuomi extra for the condition of
Ikuto’s body, especially when they were paying for bruises and gashes rather
than fine muscles or a large organ? It was sick and Alto quickly leafed past
those pages.
Then, he saw Ikuto’s age, standing out on the page because it had been
gleefully circled a few times. He had always suspected that Ikuto was younger
than he was, but he thought he was at least of the legal age. As if turned out,
Ikuto was only seventeen. A wave of nausea washed through Alto’s gut.
Child pornography…
And he was an adult, nearly twenty-eight.
And he was the one partnered with Ikuto’s small brutalized body.
Ikuto’s words—‘He’s raping me!’—flooded Alto’s mind once again. It all suddenly
made sense.
Digging his teeth into his lower lip, Alto forced his hands to turn the page.
There, tucked neatly at the end of the file, was Ikuto’s contract. Alto quickly
skimmed it, barely absorbing half the words that detailed how Ikuto was to
continue being used and abused on film. Finally, he found the duration of the
contract—just under two weeks, twelve days. Most of that was already over so
Ikuto only had a few days left to bear, but…
Alto doubted this hell would be over for Ikuto merely because his contract
expired. With the way he was being treated by his stepfather, the way he felt,
and the condition of his body, Alto knew deep in his heart that this would not
end this easily for Ikuto. The boy needed help—needed serious help.
Even though Alto didn’t want to read anymore of the file, his hands continued
to leaf through it. It was like a bad traffic accident. He didn’t want to look,
but he was compelled to. Then, his hands smoothed the film schedule across the
small file and for a moment, he stared at it, uncomprehending.
“So many shoots,” he whispered.
For a moment, his own mind thought of the large paycheck Ikuto would be getting
for doing so many films. Then, he shook himself and reminded his addled brain
of the truth of the situation. Now was not the time to be thinking of money.
He skimmed the schedule, reading the small paragraphs that detailed the
runtime, the minor plot, the props and costumes necessary, and the other stars
to be coupled with Ikuto. Alto was Ikuto’s partner less than half the time and
Alto was feeling drained from all the shoots.
“God,” he whispered, all the color draining from his face.
Ikuto only had four days left of his contract, but it was almost as if they
were trying to use him up in those last few days. Shoot after endless shoot was
scheduled for him and tomorrow, a gangbang of three people on Ikuto’s poor body
was arranged. At least, Alto was scheduled to be one of Ikuto’s partners and
would be able to do what he could to protect the boy. In the days that followed
though, Alto was not scheduled as Ikuto’s partner and he would be alone like a
lamb in a lion’s den. Alto’s blood ran cold with the thought of what would
happen to this boy, this poor child…
Alto’s mouth bloomed with the iron taste of blood as his teeth gouged through
his lower lip. With a start, he slammed the file shut, his heart hammering.
Something would have to be done. Somehow, he would have to help Ikuto. If he
didn’t, he would never be able to forgive himself.
…
Ikuto lay on the bed, naked and spent, staring out the barred window at the
night beyond. He had been trapped for a little over a week, going through shoot
after shoot of endless pornography. A part of his heart was chipped away each
time they turned that hateful camera on, but knowing that his step-father was
watching was all that kept him from breaking. He wouldn’t give Kazuomi the
pleasure of seeing him break. Even so, not knowing when this would end was
torturing him. What if it never ended?
A tear leaked from his eye, trailing down his cheek like a cold raindrop. He
hugged his aching body close, a whimper of pain escaping his clenched teeth.
Though Alto, the only one who had been kind to him in this hellish place, had
promised to find out how long Ikuto’s contract lasted, he had yet to deliver
that information. Maybe that meant his contract was never going to end and
Ikuto would be trapped here until his body just gave out. Despair gnawed at his
heart, another tear escaping.
“Utau,” he whispered to the silent darkness. He didn’t even know if she was
safe anymore. For all he knew, she could be strapped to Kazuomi’s bed right
now, screaming for the brother that had failed to protect her. But Ikuto
couldn’t allow himself to think like that. If those thoughts filled his mind,
he really would break.
“Amu,” he whispered instead, closing his eyes and drifting back to the
carnival. The teacups spun around him, lights and smells and sounds a blur as
he spun the ride faster and faster and faster. Against his side, Amu’s warm
body pressed, her fingers gripping his knee, and he heard her laugh. A small
shard of his heart warmed. “Amu…”
Outside the barred window, an owl hooted. Its cry echoed in Ikuto’s mind. “Who?
Who?”
…
Midori and Amu stopped for dinner on the way home from the city and had spent a
long time at the small diner. Midori had insisted that Amu change into some of
the new clothes they had bought and Amu found she had no choice but to agree
with her mother. The cutlery on the table gleamed like a well-polished threat.
She had feared what would happen to her if she dared to argue. Now, though,
they were finally home—not that it felt like home right now.
Amu didn’t think she had even been so happy to see her neglected little white
house. The swing in the front yard swayed idly in the breeze. Overhead, the
stars glimmered, close enough that Amu felt she could reach out and touch them.
Bright moonlight illuminated everything, casting deep shadows.
A chill ran down Amu’s spine as she helped her mother gather their purchases.
Maybe Ami’s ghost was watching…
Maybe she was angry that Amu was replacing her…
Or maybe she didn’t even exist anymore…
Amu wet her lips, tucking some pale hair behind her ear. She and Midori walked
up the cracked sidewalk to the house, the front gate creaking as it opened. A
shadow stood in the kitchen window, watching. Amu knew it was Tsumugu, her
father, watching from the window. She wondered what he thought, seeing Ami
walking up to the door. He must have been shocked, thinking ghosts were
advancing on his home, because he rushed to the front door and threw it open.
He stared at her, the lines of grief in his face diminishing. “Ami?” he
whispered.
Amu began to shake her head.
Midori interrupted, calling, “Darling,” to her husband.
When her parents embraced and kissed, Amu should have been happy. She should
have been even happier when they opened their arms to her and smiled. When was
the last time they had hugged her? When was the last time she had felt the
warmth of their love? It must have been years, since before Ami got sick and
began to die. Amu should have been happy, she knew this, yet…
She wasn’t.
A dark cold seeped into her. Her imagination told her it was Ami’s ghost
stealing her body, but she knew it wasn’t. In a moment of clarity, Amu realized
that not even Ami’s ghost lingered over her life. Ami was dead and buried. By
now, her little body was probably nothing more than bones in a worm-eaten pink
dress. Ami was dead and so were the parents Amu loved.
Though she went into their longed-for embrace, Amu felt stifled by their arms.
They weren’t hugging her anyway. They were holding Ami. As far as they were
concerned, Amu was the one that was dead, but… what did that mean for Amu? She
couldn’t live her life as Ami and she couldn’t be Amu anymore. She was…
She had to leave, she realized suddenly.
She just had to leave.
Let her parents mourn the death of both children. Let them mourn Ami all over
again.
Amu had to leave, before Ami killed her.
That was the only thing she could think of.
                                     X X X
(1) Surprisingly, I’m really enjoying writing Alto’s character. He kind of
turned into what Ikuto could be in the future on me. Interesting, right?
Phew, long chapter, but I had to line everyone up and get them ready for the
next chapter.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Storm *****
Okay everyone, take a deep breath. Now, hold it.
                                     X X X
The next day, Alto brought Ikuto a light breakfast. He had half expected Ikuto
to be in the shower, trying to wash something from his body that wouldn’t go
away, but the boy was lying naked on the bed with his pale bruised back to the
door. He hadn’t even hidden his nudity in the sheets of the bed. His pale skin
was covered in goose bumps and he was shivering, but he didn’t even move when
Alto sat down on the bed beside him.
“Ikuto,” Alto whispered and gently laid his hand on the boy’s pale back.
Ikuto shuddered, but didn’t respond.
Alto loosened the bed sheet and draped it over Ikuto’s back. The boy jolted,
clutching at it, as if suddenly becoming aware of his own nakedness. “Hey,”
Alto murmured. “I brought you some breakfast. You should eat something.”
Ikuto’s body was wracked with another violet tremble, his teeth chattering.
“I found out how long your contract is for,” Alto said suddenly. He was
desperate for Ikuto to respond, to show some signs of life.
Tension ran through Ikuto’s body and the boy walked the line. Did he want to
know that he was going to be here forever, until his body expired past its
point of usefulness? Or was there hope for him? Would he ever get to leave?
After a long moment, Ikuto sat up, clutching the snarled sheets around his
nudity. His sapphire eyes glowed, dark circles shadowing them like bruises.
Alto wanted to touch the boy’s face, to give him some comfort, but he knew
Ikuto would pull away. “Four more days,” he told Ikuto. “Then, you’ll be out of
this place.”
Light came into the depths of Ikuto’s eyes, frail eager happiness curving his
chapped lips. “Really?” he whispered.
Alto nodded, unable to bring himself to tell Ikuto that he doubted it would be
over merely because the contract expired. Kazuomi was one sick bastard and he
was probably getting paid double for Ikuto’s films because he was only
seventeen. “Yeah,” he whispered instead.
Ikuto’s happiness was fragile and so beautiful. “Thank you, Alto,” he
whispered.
Though Alto had wanted to warn the boy about the gangbang scheduled for later
in the day, he suddenly no longer had the heart to shatter this small
happiness. Maybe it was better not to know what was going to happen anyway.
Alto pushed the tray of food towards Ikuto—black coffee and some hot oatmeal
with a banana—and said, “Here, you should eat something.”
Ikuto glanced at the food. “I’m not hungry.”
“Please,” Alto murmured. “You need to eat.”
Ikuto bit his lip, the expression on Alto’s face reminding him of Utau. He took
a few bites of oatmeal to appease the other man, but that was all. Alto let out
a small disappointed sigh, but figured he might as well accept that Ikuto
wasn’t hungry. If he was in the boy’s position, he probably wouldn’t be either.
“Here’s your outfit for today’s shoot,” Alto said and handed Ikuto a stack of
leather clothing along with the cat ears they had been forcing him to wear all
week.
Ikuto accepted the clothing somewhere between eagerness to cover his nudity and
repulsion because he knew what was going to happen to him soon… again. He
forced himself not to tremble as he got to his feet, but he felt Alto’s eyes on
his back and knew the other man knew what he was thinking. He was afraid and he
was in pain and he just wanted this to be over. The bathroom door closed behind
Ikuto and Alto made a soft sad sound in his throat.
…
Night was beginning to fall beyond the barred windows of the building where
Ikuto was trapped. The sky was painted an endless array of pinks and reds and
deep violets as the sun sank behind the mountains. Ikuto was standing at the
window, gripping the sill for support, looking out.
“Four more days,” he consoled himself, but it didn’t really make him feel any
better.
There was a light knock on the door and Alto entered the room. He came bearing
dinner and the next outfit Ikuto would have to wear. Though Ikuto was usually
happy to see the young man, no matter how disturbing that feeling was to him,
he was immediately worried by the expression on Alto’s face. Why did he look…
afraid?
“Alto?” Ikuto whispered.
The young man shook his head. “I brought you some dinner and tonight’s outfit.”
Ikuto nodded, biting his lower lip as Alto schooled his features to give
nothing away. What was going to happen tonight that had made Alto so nervous?
Something out of the ordinary must be planned and Ikuto shuddered, clenching
his teeth so they wouldn’t chatter.
“Thanks,” Ikuto forced out and accepted the costume, but not the food. He had
been naked for a few hours now and was eager to put some clothing on, even if
it was nothing more than a leather porno costume. He just wanted his bare skin
covered.
Momentary terror blanketed Ikuto’s face as he picked it up with the tips of his
fingers. It was nothing more than a silk thong. All week, they had been putting
Ikuto in more elaborate costumes and outfits, enjoying tormenting him with
props and peeling the protective clothing off one piece at a time. This one was
so simple that he had a feeling they wouldn’t waste as much time tormenting him
and just get right to the sex, but that did little to comfort him. He looked
desperately at Alto, reminded of the expression he had seen on Alto’s face
earlier.
“Alto, what’s going to happen?” Ikuto whispered.
Alto wet his lips. “You have about twenty minutes,” he said. “Maybe you want to
shower first?”
Ikuto bit the corner of his mouth, the chapped skin pulling painfully. “Please,
tell me!” he begged. “What’s going to happen? You know, don’t you?”
Alto glanced away, his dark eyes shameful.
“Please,” Ikuto continued. “Tell me! What’s going to happen to me?”
“Ikuto,” Alto said firmly, grasping the boy’s bare shoulders. “I think that…
maybe you don’t want to know, okay?”
Ikuto shook his head wildly, clinging to Alto’s wrists. “Tell me, please. I
want to know. I need to know!”
Alto let out a shuddering breath, prying Ikuto’s ice-cold fingers from his
wrist.
“Please!” Ikuto insisted, his blue eyes wide and desperate.
“It’s a… a gangbang…”
Ikuto froze and Alto imagined he could hear the boy’s heart beginning to pound
with desperate fear.
“H-how many?” Ikuto whispered.
“Three men,” Alto said, “and then you.”
Ikuto trembled, his eyes going to the darkness outside the barred window. He
looked as if he was considering throwing himself out into that darkness to be
swallowed up.
Alto gripped Ikuto’s hands tightly, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles.
Though he couldn’t tell Ikuto not to worry, he still tried to console the boy.
“I’ll be with you,” he assured Ikuto. “I’ll do what I can to make sure they
won’t hurt you.”
Ikuto nodded without seeming to hear the words.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by a strange shattering sound that
Alto suspected was some part of Ikuto’s heart or mind breaking apart into
thousands of pieces. Gangbangs were frightening to film even when you knew what
to expect, even if you enjoyed the sex and the camera. For Ikuto, who was
terrified and tormented by both, a gangbang was probably the most terrible fate
he could imagine.
“Ikuto, you have some time. Why don’t you shower?” Alto suggested, running his
hand over the goose bumps peppering Ikuto’s bare arms.
For a long moment, Ikuto was silent. Then, he said finally, “Yeah.” Keeping his
nudity wrapped tightly in the sheet he had pulled from the bed, he hurried to
the bathroom with the thong still dangling from the tips of his fingers.
…
Amu watched the sun sink beneath the mountains from her bedroom window, trying
to ignore the reflection of pale blonde tresses shining there on the highly-
polished glass. It was hard to believe that Midori had turned her into Ami just
yesterday. It felt like she had been living in her dead sister’s shadow for so
much longer than that. She felt like she was only half a person, like if she
looked in the mirror, she would only see half of her own face.
Letting her breath out and then holding it, Amu listened for her parents’ happy
voices. She wondered when and how they had decided to turn her into Ami. Or was
it one of those things that just sort of happened, just like Ami’s sudden death
after years of withering away? She knew they wouldn’t be going to bed for a few
more hours, but Amu was unable to stay downstairs with them any longer. She
couldn’t bear them calling her by Ami’s name and loving Ami as if Amu had never
existed.
She lay down on her mattress, burying her face in her pillow and wondered if
she could find a place to cram her pillow in her duffle bag. She didn’t really
want to leave it behind, but there wasn’t much space left in her bag. Tonight,
around eleven after her parents went to sleep, Amu would leave through her
bedroom window and never come back.
She couldn’t come back…
Tears burned in her throat, choking her, and she buried her face further into
her pillow, clinging to it. She tried not to let the tears come, but they did
anyway. She cried for her parents, who loved her but had never been able to
show her their love since Ami’s death. She cried for Ami, the little girl whose
life was stolen far too early. And, most of all, she cried for herself—the girl
who had been killed by both these things.
The scar on her arm ached and she felt cold all the way to her bones, but
despite everything, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
…
“The carousel just goes round and round, and up and down. It never really goes
anywhere, but… you always feel safe.” The voice sounded like it belonged to
someone else, like it wasn’t her own voice speaking, like the words weren’t
coming from her lips.
“I've just felt this way… like I'm still on the teacups that night, just
spinning and spinning and spinning. But by now, I'm spinning so fast that I
can't stop the ride anymore and I don't dare get off…" Yet she recognized
Ikuto’s words immediately, washing over her like balm on a wound.
She smiled softly.
Amu used to love the carnival, back when Ami was alive, back when they were a
happy little family. That felt like such a long, long time ago… Her father
always used to insist on taking them, even if their mother didn’t want to go.
He would ride all the rides with them, even trying to get on the child-sized
ones that he knew he couldn’t fit on. Amu thought she and Ami were the luckiest
girls in the world to have a family like that, to go to the carnival so often.
It was wonderful.
What would it be like if things like that had never ended? What if Ami had
never died or never even existed? Even better, what if Amu had never been born
into her family? What if she lived with the carnival?
Though it was strange to think that way, Amu wondered what it would be like to
live a new adventure with a whole new family every day. She closed her eyes,
imagining the sounds of calliope music and laughter. The smells of deep fried
foods and candied apples and cotton candy wrapped around her. The Ferris wheel
towered overhead, its light glowing like stars. Amu was sitting alone on the
carousel, looking out at the world as it spun endlessly around her. She was
safe on the carousel, just spinning and spinning, even if she never went
anywhere. That was alright with her.
She leaned her forehead against the barley pole, enjoying its coolness, and
smiled to herself. Yes, this was a life she wanted. She didn’t care that she
would never move forward. She just wanted to be safe, to feel loved, to have a
family again. The music rumbled in her mind, mingling with the laughter of
happy children and people.
She suddenly became aware that someone was standing beside her a moment before
she felt his presence. Her golden eyes slid open and stared at Ikuto’s face for
a moment. He looked as he had the night they had been at the school carnival
together. His eyes gleamed like lanterns, a bruise marking the corner of his
mouth and the side of his shoulder, but how beautiful he was.
“Ikuto,” she whispered, awed. It felt like an eternity since she had seen him
last. How long had he been gone? “You’re here…”
He smiled faintly, his lips parting softly. The bruise looked darker, more
painful, as he spoke. “Can I join you?”
Amu nodded, gesturing to the horse beside her—a night-black stallion with ruby-
red eyes—but Ikuto didn’t move to sit there. Instead, he slipped on the back of
the horse Amu was riding, his thin arms wrapping around her waist lightly. His
body was cool, so thin, like he was dead.
Amu shivered, whispering his name again. “Ikuto…”
“Ami,” he whispered, as if he didn’t even see Amu behind the veil of her
sister’s butter-colored hair.
Amu’s heart began to pound and she looked out at the glowing lights of the
carnival. Nothing but darkness surrounded her, darkness as deep and all-
consuming as a grave. Suddenly, Amu couldn’t breathe. Ikuto’s gentle embrace
felt like a chokehold. She couldn’t get air into her parched lungs and when she
finally did, it was scented with death. The carnival no longer existed in her
bright and perfect dream world. A nightmare instead swam into the shoals of her
mind, devouring her. The darkness flooded in, swallowing her up greedily.
With a sharp cry, Amu woke in her own bed, alone.
The darkness of night waited beyond the glass, speckled with the diamond
brightness of stars and illuminated by the full moon. The numbers of Amu’s
bedside clock glowed brightly, telling her the time. Wiping her tear-stained
face, she pried herself from the comfort of her bed.
It was time to go. She couldn’t stay here anymore.
                                     X X X
I’m trying to update every Monday because that’s all I can manage. Life refuses
to come back under control. I just got two new people at work that I have to
train and Halloween is coming and I work too much. But enough of me
complaining. I get a great paycheck.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** The Escape: Pt I *****
It’s also raining here in Arizona (big shocker!), not just in my story.
And sorry about the late update. I’ve been unmotivated to post lately. (I’m
still writing on this but the trolls that attack me have made me not want to
post.) Plus, Halloween was a big event at my work and I was busy getting ready
for that all week. So… there’s my excuse.
                                     X X X
Alto didn’t come to get Ikuto for that night’s film. Someone else did. He was a
tall skinny man who stank of cigarette smoke, his fingernails and teeth faintly
yellowed from so much smoking. Ikuto, wearing only that silk thong and stripped
of the sheet since the thin man pulled it away from him, had no choice but to
just walk. He could feel the man’s eyes burning into his naked buttocks,
drinking in the sight of such porcelain flesh mottled with such dark bruises.
Ikuto’s body was like a piano since he had been imprisoned here. He was easy to
play, unable to do anything but force out the notes he had to as each key was
touched. His skin was an endless spread of ivory and ebony, creamy skin and
coal-black bruises. The only color on his body was his deep blue eyes and the
speckling of blood at the corner of his chapped mouth.
But they always said that the camera loved him. He was beautiful on the
camera’s lens, screaming, begging, playing the roles he had to.
Ikuto trembled, stepping into the warm room when the door was opened from the
inside. The second man was large, bulky with muscle and speckled with countless
tattoos. In the shadows, beside a camera, Alto stood, his face bleached pale.
Ikuto shuddered, trying to hide his nakedness behind his hands to no avail.
“Alright,” someone called and a camera began to whir. “Let’s get started.”
“Aren’t you going to say ‘action’?” the large man asked, laughing.
The director rolled his eyes. “Okay, action,” he said.
Ikuto wanted to back away, his face going pale with fear of what was to come,
but he forced himself to remain where he was. He could see Kazuomi standing in
the shadows, watching, grinning. That alone made the boy draw on his last
reserves of courage and face this. He couldn’t bear to let Kazuomi see how this
was killing him. In fact, seeing his step-father was a sort of comfort to him.
If Kazuomi was still here, watching Ikuto suffer, then he must not have found
another place to vent his rage and pleasure. It meant Utau was safe.
Ikuto smiled what he thought was a little secret smile, but it must have shone
on his face. The blow was sudden.
The large bulky man had punched Ikuto, holding nothing back. Ikuto’s teeth
cracked together sharply, clipping down on the tip of his tongue. Blood flooded
his mouth. Reeling from the blow, Ikuto staggered back, his spine colliding
sharply with the wall. A yelp of pain and surprise, Ikuto pressed a hand to his
face, his eyes going wide. He glanced to Alto for some kind of reassurance, for
anything, but the young man looked just as shocked at Ikuto felt.
“What was that?” Alto shouted, darting in front of the camera and interrupting
the shoot.
The large man growled. “What’s your problem, Alto?”
A few camera men groaned and the director stood up from his chair. “What’s the
problem?”
Ikuto pressed himself more securely into the wall, cupping his cheek as rich
crimson blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, running down his naked
chest. He made a soft sound of agony, whimpering softly in the dimness. If only
the walls would swallow him up and protect him from this, Ikuto pleaded.
“What was that?” Alto demanded of them.
“What was what?” several people snarled at Alto.
“You just hauled off and punched him in the face,” Alto shouted at them.
“And?” the large man said, folding his arms over his barrel chest.
“Look at the blood! You really hurt him!” Alto protested. He turned to one of
the camera men. “We need some ice—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” the director said. “Alto, I told you about the script.”
Alto glared at him. “I know that. This is a gangbang film,” he said coldly.
The director shook his head slightly. “Not a gangbang,” he explained further.
“A gang rape.”
Alto slide a glance at Ikuto and saw the boy shrink back, shuddering further.
“Alright,” Alto relented. “What does that have to do with this? He just punched
Ikuto in the face.”
The director threw up his hands. “Actors!”
Kazuomi took a step forward, stretching out his hand. “May I handle this?” he
asked.
The director nodded. “Please do!”
Kazuomi clapped a hand on Alto’s thin shoulder. “Listen to me, son,” he began.
Alto pulled away, his skin crawling.
Kazuomi pretended not to notice. After all, there wasn’t much he could do to
control one porn star in front of all these cameras anyway. It wasn’t as if he
could hit Alto or threaten his sister with so many witnesses present. So, the
business man he was, he went for diplomacy. “You see, I’ve given my permission
for his body to be used in an authentic gang rape video.”
“What?” Alto half-shouted at him.
Kazuomi’s grin widened, his gaze sliding to his step-son. Ikuto had crumpled in
the corner of the room, legs drawn tight against his chest, naked shoulders
heaving. His sapphire eyes were wide, unfocused, tragic, and unbearably full of
fear. He still had one hand pressed to his throbbing cheek, blood dripping from
his lips and running down his throat. Overall, no one on the set had ever seen
someone so beautifully heartbreaking. His eyes scanned from one face to
another, seeking any friendly expression, but the only thing even close was
Alto’s horrified gaze.
“Now, Alto,” the director broke in. “Do I need to take you off the script? I
could easily find another person to fuck him.”
Ikuto shuddered, a whine of anguish escaping him.
Alto shook his head quickly. God knew what would happen to Ikuto once Alto was
out of the picture.
“Then I expect no more interruptions,” the director said coldly. Then, once
again, he called action and the horrible activity resumed.
Like vultures closing in on a not-quite-dead corpse, the tall smoker and the
bulky man closed in on Ikuto’s cowering form. Blood was still running from his
mouth, dripping between his clenched fingers, and the silk thong he was wearing
only encouraged their violence on his naked skin. Alto watched, stricken, until
the director shouted at him to join in. He struck at Ikuto with his left hand
only, trying to make the blows as gentle as possible, but his attempts were
worthless. The other two men both beat Ikuto with all the strength in their
fists.
The little sounds of agony the boy was making went right into Alto’s heart and
soul, closing his throat.
Kazuomi watched all the activity like he was watching his favorite show,
grinning. A tent grew in his pants. How long had it been since he had fucked
Ikuto?
Under the onslaught of fists and feet, naked save the silk thong, Ikuto heard
something shatter and was almost certain it was some part of his poor
brutalized body. He heard someone scream, but wasn’t sure who’s twisted
terrified voice that was. It couldn’t be… his, could it?
…
The duffle bag was too heavy, bumping against Amu’s thigh. She adjusted it, but
the strap dug further into her skinny shoulder, causing her just as much pain.
She bit her lower lip and removed a few of her favorite books from the duffle
bag, shoving them back onto the shelf in her room, and then glanced woefully at
her pillow one last time. As ready as she would ever be, she opened her window,
shoved the duffle bag out first, and then climbed through the window after it.
Clinging to the sill, she hung there for a moment like a piece of ripe fruit
that didn’t want to be eaten. Then, she dropped down, landing painfully on top
of her bag.
She glanced back up at the window, but she knew she couldn’t come back. This
part of her life… it was her death now. She had to leave it behind.
Shouldering the slightly-lighter-but-still-too-heavy duffle bag she had packed
with her belongings, she walked to the garage and tried not to look back at her
derelict once-white house. She got her bike from the garage, brushing some dust
off the seat, and walked it out into the driveway. There, under the light of
the moon, she couldn’t resist looking at her house. A few windows glowed
faintly from nightlights inside and she longed to go back inside, curl up in
her bed, and pretend she was happy.
But she knew she couldn’t.
Amu swung her leg over her bike, adjusted the duffle bag again, but it threw
off her balance. She retrieved a short length of rope and tied her duffle bag
onto the handlebars like a sort of airbag. In the basket on the front of her
bike, she crammed her small bag of food and a large bottle of water. With that,
she was as ready as she ever would be. Doing her best not to look back, she
rode her bicycle away from the house that was no longer a home.
…
The cameras whined softly, humming like insects on a hot summer day. The air
was scented with blood, sweat, and sex. If emotions could also have a scent,
one could say that despair, pain, and horror also hung heavy in the air.
“Stop!” Alto shouted.
Several people groaned and the director looked like he was finally going to
make good on his threat to toss Alto out of the set. Ikuto, pinned on the
creaking bed, gasped in a breath of relief as the choking grip on his throat
subsided. He turned his face away, sucking in air greedily.
“What is it now, Alto?” the tall smoker growled out, his fingers digging into
Ikuto’s wrists.
“You can’t take him dry,” Alto protested. “His body is so small. He’s going to
tear apart.”
“Can someone get a dictionary?” the director ground out. “Someone get me a
dictionary and read out the definition of authentic.”
Alto glared at him, his dark eyes glittering like flint stones.
“Do you think gang rapists carry lube in their pockets?” the director snapped.
“This is film!” Alto shouted at him. “You don’t have to put in the credits that
he wasn’t hurt. You can’t do this! He’s a human being!”
The director glanced at Kazuomi and then back at Alto. “Don’t worry, he’s going
to a hospital after this shoot. We’ll get him some stitches.”
“But—” Alto protested.
“Action!” the director interrupted again.
Ikuto grit his teeth, the smoker’s foul hand covering his mouth so that he
couldn’t scream, and waited for the pain. At least Alto was here, he consoled
himself. At least someone seemed to care that they were destroying his body,
even if Alto wasn’t able to do anything to help.
Tears burned behind Ikuto’s closed lids, his lungs starved for breath. He felt
his step-father’s eyes on him, watching, enjoying, smiling. He choked back his
cries, as unwilling to scream in front of the camera as ever. Not that it
mattered, he couldn’t have screamed through the smoker’s hand covering his
mouth anyway.
…
Amu pedaled in silence, the night pressing in around her. At least there was
moonlight and stars. Somewhere, an owl hooted and she didn’t feel so alone in
the night anymore. For a moment, she wondered if Ami was looking down on her,
hating Amu for denying Ami the chance to live again, even if it was a vicarious
life. Amu shoved those thoughts away, trying to think of what she would do now
that she had left home at age twelve.
She wasn’t old enough to be out here alone, but maybe… Maybe she could go to a
big city, maybe Hollywood or New York. She could vanish within all those
people. Maybe someone would give her a job, even if it was sweeping up the
stage after movie stars. Someone, somewhere, would help her.
Or maybe… maybe she should join the carnival. She had always heard that
children who ran away from home were accepted at the carnival no matter what
age they were, but that was only in books and fairytales. The carnival would
not take her in. They hadn’t accepted Ikuto years ago.
Amu pedaled deeper into the night, leaving the city she had called home her
entire life. She rode past the school and the Planetarium and Ikuto’s house.
There were a few lights on inside that beautiful mansion and the front door was
open. Amu heard the chatter of voices, heard Utau’s voice, but didn’t stop to
talk to Ikuto’s sister. Amu was leaving this place, leaving forever. But, maybe
someday, she would come back for Ikuto—just to see him, to find out what had
happened to him this week, to see if she could help him in the future.
But right now, she didn’t stop. She just kept on pedaling, putting the past
behind her and riding into the future.
…
Alto was stricken. Never had he been so horrified by his work.
Ikuto lay there on the blood-spattered sheets, one hand pressed to his tear-
streaked face, the other twisted painfully behind his back. The smoker and the
large man had taken turns tearing into him. With each thrust, each entrance
into his body, Ikuto had lost himself.
He had begun this filming with a sort of determination not to show his fear or
his pain, not in front of his step-father and the cameras. But now, that
resolve was broken.
Ikuto had been unable to fight off the tears once the large man started moving
inside him, blood oozing from his torn entrance. Then, the smoker had fucked
him and he broke down in earnest, sobbing and begging and pleading for them to
stop. He begged them not to hurt him anymore. He begged them to let him go, to
stop this, to stop hurting him, not to do this to him any longer.
But his cries fell on deaf ears. They didn’t stop. They didn’t even show mercy,
giving him lubricant or even a small rest. The brutality just went on and on.
And now, it was Alto’s turn. It was Alto’s turn to strip off his clothing and
rape Ikuto’s fragile little body. Blood spattered those pale thighs, bruises
marked those hips and buttocks, blood-red hickeys plastered his skin. He looked
like he was on the cusp of death, of his entire body just breaking apart. Even
worse was his face.
Alto had never seen something so horrible and tragic.
Those beautiful blue eyes looked like the oceanic abyss, darkness and despair
swimming up from the depths. His hand was pressed over his bruised lip, trying
to hold in cries that escaped anyway. And he trembled. God, he trembled. If
Ikuto’s body had been made out of porcelain or glass, he would have broken into
a million pieces just from the force of his shaking. And those eyes, god, those
beautiful desperate eyes…
There was no way Alto could do it.
“Come on, Alto,” the smoker rasped. “Get on with it, already. I want to go
again.”
Ikuto’s tragic eyes gazed at Alto, desperate, begging, pleading. “No,” he
whispered.
Alto tried to swallow, but his throat was closed over.
“Please… please, don’t…” Ikuto begged.
“Damn,” the director snapped. “Alto, you hold him. One of you two, fuck him.”
Ikuto pleaded, but Alto’s hands closed over his wrists, pulling one hand from
his mouth. Alto held him, held his arms above his head as the other two fucked
him again. When Ikuto’s nails raked into Alto’s flesh, tearing through the
skin, Alto didn’t move to alter the boy’s grip. He stroked his fingertips over
Ikuto’s sensitive bruised wrists and tried to comfort him. It was all he could
do.
…
Tall buildings loomed on either side of Amu. Somewhere, she had taken a wrong
turn. Rather than heading towards the highway, towards Hollywood or New York,
she had turned into a sort of downtown ghetto. Graffiti marked the sidewalk and
facades of the buildings. The windows were all either barred or broken. No one
was about on the street. She shuddered, feeling her young age come up to
surround her like an iron cage. She was twelve and she was alone.
She heard a scream in the night, the sound human-like, but also very much like
an injured animal.
Startled, Amu nearly fell off her bike. Quickly, she righted herself and tried
to focus on just getting through his area of the city that she hadn’t known had
existed. She wondered if anyone knew it existed. It was like… a ghost town, a
resting place for the dead and forgotten. Her hands began to shake, so she
tightened their grip on the handle bars, forcing them steady. Slowly, she
pedaled and then remembered that long ago she had taken her father’s pocket
knife.
She had taken it back when she had been going to Ikuto’s house to work on their
portraits of each other, back when she was afraid of him. Now, she stopped
under one of the only working street lamps and rummaged through her duffel bag
for the small knife. She had tucked it away somewhere, she was certain.
“Aha,” she breathed and pulled the knife from a small interior pocket.
She opened the knife, the silver blade gleaming dully in the moonlight, and
clenched it in her shaking hand. At least now, she could stab anyone who tried
to attack her. She wasn’t sure she was capable of murdering or really hurting
anyone, but they might think twice about approaching her now. Right…?
…
Ikuto curled in on himself, naked, bleeding, thoroughly used.
“This is wrong,” he heard Alto whisper, but his soft voice was drowned out by
the laughing of the other two men who had raped him. They had enjoyed
themselves and were discussing their favorite parts, their favorite moments of
using him, of hearing him scream. Again, Alto whispered, “This is wrong.”
“Here,” the director said.
Something changed hands.
Alto inhaled sharply.
Ikuto merely squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He didn’t want to know what was
coming. What was next? Would they use an object on him, make him cum for the
camera, rape him some more. He hardly cared. How much worse could it get for
him? He was almost ready to just die, for it to be over.
“Utau,” he whispered to himself. Then, softer, “Mom… Dad…”
“Stop!” Alto shouted, breaking his silent protest since the director had
threatened to toss him off the set. “You can’t do that! You can’t do this!”
Ikuto whimpered softly, but didn’t dare look. He didn’t want to know what was
coming now.
…
Amu stopped in the street, wishing she had had the good sense to bring a map
with her on her escape. She heard that cry again, but decided it must have been
only a stray cat. After all, the streets were deserted and it was late. She
didn’t even know what time it was now, just that it was dark and she was tired.
She rubbed her eyes, staring up at the dark façade of a large office building
with many barred windows. A chill crawled over her skin like a physical touch,
like cobwebs were clutching at her, like spiders were scurrying all over her
skin. But Halloween was long over. She put her feet on the pedals prepared to
put this building at her back and never return.
She heard that scream again, part-animal, part-human. It was the sound of
death.
                                     X X X
No one’s going to die… Yet… Take another deep breath.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** The Escape: Pt II *****
Time for another depressing statistic: There are over 30,000 child abuse cases
each year. Less than one percent ever see the inside of a courtroom.
                                     X X X
“Stop! You can’t do this!” Alto shouted, his voice rising a few notches above
complete and total panic. “You can’t use that on him!”
Ikuto had never heard a voice like that, so panicked, so frantic. Suddenly, he
couldn’t not look. He lurched up in the creaking blood-spattered semen-smeared
bed, his arms coiling around his naked body in what little shelter he could
get. His vision swam, pain lancing through him, and it took him a moment to
understand what was happening. The dimly-lit room swam in and out of focus and
he was momentarily distracted by the blood all over his legs and the sheets.
The Taser whined as it warmed up. Ikuto’s head snapped up from his battered
thighs, seeking that hateful sound. When he laid those tragic blue eyes on it,
fear consumed him. Then, it crackled, the line of electricity snapping and
popping loudly between the two prongs of the gun. Ice ran through Ikuto’s
veins, his heart skipping beats as if the electricity charged the air in the
over-warm room. Cold sweat broke out on his skin.
The large bulky man chuckled. “Why not, Alto?”
“Need to hear the definition of the word ‘authentic’ again?” the smoker asked.
Alto put himself between the men, the camera, the Taser, and Ikuto. “You can’t
use that on him!”
“Why not? Some people get off on electricity!” (1) the large man said.
“That’s a goddamn Taser!” Alto shouted.
“Alto, do I have to remove you?” the director threatened.
“You’re going to kill him!” Alto protested.
“No one dies from Tasers,” the smoker rasped.
“Yeah, that’s why cops use them,” the larger man continued.
“It’s not like it’s a cattle prod or anything,” the smoker explained.
“Come on,” the tall man said. “Let’s do it. I want to hear him scream some
more.”
“You sick bastard—” Alto shouted, his hands curling into fists.
“Alto!” the director shouted, his voice cutting through everything in the room.
The only sound was the ragged pounding of Ikuto’s heart and the crackling whine
of the Taser and the distant purr of the cameras. Everyone else was silent,
hardly breathing. “Give Alto the Taser.”
Alto backed away, his hands lifting desperately. “No,” he gasped.
“Take it, or you’ll never work in this business again,” the director warned.
“And we all know how much you need the money.”
Alto froze, his skin prickling with goose bumps and horror.
“Take the Taser and use it on him,” the director said.
The large man handed it over, the crackling of electricity going silent when he
took his finger off the trigger. The thing was cold and heavy in Alto’s hands.
He trembled, stricken.
“Do it,” the director snarled.
Alto turned slowly, looking at Ikuto.
The boy was sitting up on the bed, backed desperately against the headboard,
his pale bruised skin prickled with goose bumps. Blood smeared the sheets,
coated his pale ivory legs. Pure terror marred Ikuto’s face, his teeth digging
into the gash on his lower lip.
“Please,” the boy begged. “Don’t… please, stop, don’t…” He even shot a
desperate glance at his step-father, but Kazuomi was merely watching. He looked
like a statue, face like granite and his eyes even harder.
Ikuto’s heart splintered, the headboard of the bed caging him in. No one was
going to save him, just as no one had saved him from the camera.
Alto’s hands trembled. He glanced desperately back at the director, at Kazuomi,
at the two other porn actors waiting for him to press the Taser to Ikuto’s pale
skin. God only knew what they would do to Ikuto after the boy was incapacitated
by the volts of electricity. He would be completely vulnerable, more vulnerable
than he already was. Alto didn’t want to do this, but… there was no escape. He
would have to do this terrible thing to Ikuto. There was no other way… He would
have to. Unless…
…
Amu didn’t know why she was still in front of the building with barred windows,
looking up at it. The stars glittered overhead, the moon shone down on her. A
cool November breeze blew down, making her shiver softly. She was suddenly
thinking of Thanksgiving. Without a family, what would that holiday be like?
That thought made her hesitate—to question if she wanted to give all this up
just because her parents wanted her to become Ami. Was that such a bad thing?
And so, she hesitated, thinking of the turkey and mashed potatoes.
In hindsight, she would say that it was fate that made her hesitate right
there.
But at the time, she called it merely the fear of a twelve-year-old child
without any real friends save one strange boy. She called it a child’s fear of
really leaving home, even though she was running away from the spiraling abuse
that she had called home since Ami’s sudden death. So, she remained there on
the street with her bike, thinking about Thanksgiving. If she left now, she
would spend her holiday alone. She would always be alone. And she was so young.
Truthfully, no matter what she told herself, she was afraid to take that step.
She as only twelve.
…
Ikuto prayed, even though he knew from experience that no one was listening. He
still prayed. He couldn’t get any farther away from the encroaching Taser. His
back was flush against the headboard of the creaking bed where he had been used
so badly. The walls closed in on him. He couldn’t even run. There were too many
people there to stop him. He couldn’t escape and he couldn’t beg any longer.
Tears burned in his eyes, rolling down his sallow cheeks. He hugged himself,
whimpering. The fine hairs on his arms and legs prickled, sensing the proximity
of pain and electricity. Alto, his only friend in this hellish place, was going
to press those prongs into his skin and pull the trigger. Ikuto knew the surge
of electricity would tear his thin body apart. And then, they would fuck him
some more.
Terror was consuming, swallowing him whole, taking him away as quickly and
greedily as death had taken his loving parents. The terror devoured him even
faster than he had made the decision to protect Utau that first time. It took
him with eagerness that he normally only felt from people who wanted to use his
body or with the eagerness Utau reserved for embracing him when he allowed it.
Alto’s hands trembled, his white teeth digging into his lower lip, as he
approached the bed.
Ikuto could see him warring with himself inside, thinking about the Taser in
his hand and the pale naked body crumpled on the bed before him.
Even though Ikuto had promised himself he would stop begging, the words escaped
anyway, along with several tears that slid hotly down his chilled skin.
“Please,” he begged. “Please… don’t do… this… to me. Please, don’t… please…”
Alto hesitated, standing beside the bed. He hadn’t yet pressed his finger to
the trigger of the Taser and the thing was silent, not yet crackling with
electricity. Even so, the mere sight of it terrified Ikuto. He stared at it,
unable to tear his eyes away, unable to even look at Alto’s face. What would it
feel like when the Taser pumped volts through his frail body? How badly would
it hurt? A whimper escaped him.
The large man and the smoker closed in around Alto and the bed and Ikuto,
bumping him.
“Come on already, Alto,” the smoker rasped.
“Do it,” the larger man urged. “I want to hear him scream.”
Ikuto whimpered again, his naked shoulders trembling and smeared with blood and
dark bruises.
Alto closed his finger over the trigger of the Taser. Electricity jumped
between the prongs, crackling loudly. Even though it wasn’t touching Ikuto’s
skin, he still screamed—screamed in outright terror. The large man closed his
eyes, relishing the sound of Ikuto’s cries. The smoker grinned.
Then, Alto jammed the Taser into the smoker’s belly and he went down like a
sack of sand, taking one of the bright camera lights down with him. The harsh
crash silenced Ikuto’s screaming and he stared at Alto, stunned, his face
chalk-pale.
Alto whirled, not giving the large man a chance to react. He pumped the Taser
into the large man’s side and he went down just as quickly. Both naked porn
actors lay on the floor, shrieking softly and drooling. Alto stared at the hand
holding the Taser, shocked, as if that hand did not belong to him.
The director was on his feet. Kazuomi was already moving towards Ikuto and
Alto. The two cameramen were frozen, uncertain if they should film this or jump
into help. Was this part of the script?
“Alto!” the director shouted. “What the hell—?”
Alto didn’t let him finish. He rammed the Taser into the director’s chest and
pulled the trigger, pumping him full of electricity. With a girlish shriek, the
director crumpled as well. Just behind him, Kazuomi was looming. Alto closed
his eyes, shoving the Taser out in front of him, and somehow Kazuomi wound up
at his feet. He assumed he must have Tasered Ikuto’s step-father as well, but
he couldn’t be sure in the panic that consumed his mind.
The two cameramen backed away, hands raised, placating.
“Ikuto,” Alto said suddenly, keeping his eyes on the two cameramen. With his
other hand, he reached backwards and somehow found the boy’s wrist. Pulling
Ikuto to his feet quickly, Alto tugged him from the bed where he had been
cowering.
Ikuto cried out, his knees buckling, and he fell to the floor, spilling over
the four men lying in a heap around the bed. He cried out in pain, agony
spearing through his reamed backside, and he felt fresh blood roll down his
thighs. “Please,” he begged.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” Alto whispered to Ikuto. He jabbed the
Taser at the cameramen. “Give me the director’s jacket,” he demanded of them.
The porno director thought he was some kind of Quentin Tarantino and attempted
to dress the part by wearing a long black-leather trench coat. It would cover
Ikuto’s small body perfectly and allow him to flee into the night. One of the
cameramen handed it over without question and Alto pulled the long trench coat
over Ikuto’s naked shoulders. Shivering, Ikuto clutched it closed.
“Let’s go,” Alto said to Ikuto, pulling him forward over the strewn bodies.
Ikuto stumbled, crying out in pain as he moved and tripped and fell.
Kazuomi grunted, his eyes beginning to focus on them. Alto considered giving
him another jolt with the Taser, but decided against it. He slammed the door of
the room behind them, tugging Ikuto down the hallway. Their window of time was
decreasing by the seconds. He was certain the two cameramen were helping the
Tasered men to their feet this very moment. Any second now, they would charge
out of the room behind them and recapture Ikuto. But, the two made it to the
end of the hallway and down the emergency stairs without even hearing footsteps
behind them.
“Just a little farther,” Alto assured Ikuto.
The boy silently pushed his body to the limits, running alongside Alto.
They made it to the front doors of the building, racing past the single
security guard. Alto gave him a shot with the Taser as well and stopping him in
his tracks. Then, the two young men spilled out into the night and nearly
crashed into a young girl on her bike. Alto had his hand wrapped around Ikuto’s
upper arm and it was all that kept the boy on his feet.
The words to apologize to the little girl were on Alto’s lips when she gasped
out, “Ikuto!”
Ikuto lifted his face, eyes bleary with pain. “Amu?” he breathed.
“You know each other?” Alto half-shouted. Adrenaline pumped through his blood.
Amu nodded, her small hands reaching out to Ikuto already. “What happened?
Where have you been? You haven’t been in school in almost two weeks.”
“No time for that,” Alto interrupted, pushing Ikuto forward. “You have to get
him out of here right now.”
“What?” Amu shrieked, fear lining her mouth. “Why?”
Ikuto yelped, his hand closing on her shoulder. Blood splattered the concrete.
“Just get out of here!” Alto shouted. “I’ll do what I can to hold them off.
Just go!” Then, he used his age and size to his advantage over the two youths.
He manhandled Amu onto her bike, holding the bike steady and forcing her to
stand on the pedals. Then, he pushed Ikuto behind her, onto the seat, and
pulled Amu down on his lap. Automatically, seeking something to cling to,
Ikuto’s arms wrapped around her waist and he buried his face in her back. “Go!”
he shouted at them and shoved the bike.
Amu’s soft scream echoed in the night, but she did as he asked.
Within moments, they had vanished in the darkness of the deserted street.
“Thank god,” Alto whispered, watching the street.
Then, the doors behind him exploded open.
All the men he had Tasered (except the recently shocked security guard) had
gotten back to their feet. The director was supported by the two cameramen,
growling and drooling and not quite back to himself yet. But the smoker, the
large man, and Ikuto’s step-father were all terrifyingly alert. He moved to
Taser them again, but they were too quick for him. Once, twice, Kazuomi punched
him in the face and his fist was like a sledgehammer. Alto crumpled, the Taser
skidding away on the pavement, and then darkness greedily devoured him.
The last thing he remembered was shouting… someone was shouting something.
…
Kazuomi was seeing red, his vision speckled with blood and dancing black spots.
He had never been so enraged in his life. Ikuto had escaped with the help of
this whore, Alto, whom Kazuomi had hand-picked to fuck the boy because of how
much he looked like Aruto. Now, he kicked the crumpled traitor in the ribs,
snarling, and glanced up and down the deserted street.
Yes, Ikuto was bleeding so it should have been easy to find him, but the blood
trail ended here at the front doors. They had no idea where he had gone.
Someone must have helped him escape. But who? Who would be stupid enough to
pick up and help a naked beauty like Ikuto in the dead of night in this
district of the city? Well, when Kazuomi found them, they would wish they had
never even heard Ikuto’s name.
He would make everyone who had ever been kind to Ikuto pay. But first…
“I’ll make your sister pay for this, Ikuto!” Kazuomi shouted into the night,
his voice echoing against the buildings. “There’s four days left of your
contract! I’ll let them destroy her fucking body!”
But the night did not answer him.
Ikuto did not appear from the depths of some shadow like an alley cat, having
been hiding close by.
Silence spread, crickets chirping absently without a care for the human world.
With a snarl, Kazuomi turned away from the mess on the front steps of the
building with barred windows. He stalked to his Mercedes and slammed himself
behind the wheel. Momentary dizziness assaulted him, his vision swimming with
the aftershock of the Taser.
How dare Ikuto rebel. How dare he run. How dare he!
Well, Kazuomi would go home right now and enact the worse punishment he could.
He would go home and grab Utau from her bed. He would bring her back here and
give her to the men that had been Tasered in Ikuto’s escape. He would give her,
naked and virginal and tied in white ribbons, to those men to use however they
pleaded. He would destroy Ikuto’s precious little sister. Then, all Ikuto’s
suffering would be for nothing and his pain would be so much sweeter.
Utau… he would tear her body to pieces…
And it would be all Ikuto’s fault.
                                     X X X
(1) This is a real situation. Some people do get off on electric shocks. The
usage of Tasers is usually for more extreme people, but they do use Tasers (and
even cattle prods) in erotic play.
Now let that breath out. (Who remembers me telling them to hold their breath at
the beginning of chapter fifty-one?)
***** Finally, Asking for Help *****
“Okay, we should start seeing some light in the tunnel soon, but it might just
be an oncoming train… You never know with me. Things escape me occasionally…
sometimes… most of the time… always… But I still have a plan! I always have a
plan… most of the time… sometimes… never… Shut up! Go away! Aaaaaaah!”
*run away, screaming*
My secretary must stand in, kind of how the vice president takes over if the
president goes nuts… or dies. “Um… please read and enjoy. Don’t mind the
author.” Whispers, “She’s totally bonkers and she’s had too much coffee."
                                     X X X
Amu had been standing in front of the building with the barred windows,
hesitating, thinking about Thanksgiving and her broken little family, when the
front doors blew open as if the bomb had gone off inside. The glass doors
banged into the wall, flying open and momentarily reflecting Amu’s own
terrified face back at her. Inside, she thought she glimpsed a security guard
lying on the floor, unconscious. Two people spilled out onto the sidewalk,
nearly plowing into her in their urgent hurry. One of them was gasping, crying
out softly in pain. The other was breathing hard, holding the other up. It was
only Amu’s grip on her bike that kept her upright on her feet.
A man with dark eyes and dark hair looked into his face, his lips parting to
apologize. The other youth lifted his face, glancing at his surroundings, blood
painting his lips and his throat. Amu stared at them, stricken, her heart
pounding in her ribcage.
Then, Amu saw beautiful sapphire eyes set in a porcelain-pale face, swollen and
red-rimmed and tragic. She immediately recognized those eyes. They had stared
out at her from a sheet of thick paper in art class and later, she had drawn
Ikuto’s face around those eyes.
“Ikuto!” she shouted, shocked.
His eyes came into focus slowly, meeting her gaze, and she had never seen
something so horrible. His eyes were so swollen, his lips terribly chapped, his
mouth darkly bruised, and blood smeared his lips like a prostitute’s twisted
calling card. His dark hair hung lank and stringy around his face, streaked
with whiteness and dried blood, and his face was that of a skull beneath the
skin. Most troubling, he was wearing a trench coat and his feet were bare. A
spattered path of blood marked the concrete behind him.
“Amu?” he whispered and his voice was a mere breath.
“You know each other?” the young man shouted at Amu, his voice carving into her
eardrums.
What was Ikuto doing here, looking like this, dressed like that? Was he… naked
beneath that coat? She almost took a step back, terror momentarily making her
want to run. But Ikuto looked so fragile and there was so much pain in his face
that she knew she couldn’t leave him. She reached out despite her heart
pounding so hard it was making her dizzy.
“What happened? Where have you been? You haven’t been in school for almost two
weeks,” she asked, watching as Ikuto wavered on his feet weakly.
“No time for that,” the other man said, pushing Ikuto into her. “You have to
get him out of here right now.”
“What?” Amu asked.
She didn’t like this entire situation. Why was Ikuto in this condition? Why did
this man look so panicked, so urgent, as if Ikuto’s life depended on this? Fear
clenched around her heart. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into. If
only she hadn’t chosen to run away this particular night, if only she hadn’t
taken a wrong turn, if only her family was normal and didn’t want to turn her
into Ami. But then… where would Ikuto be right now? Who would help him in this
moment if Amu wasn’t there? He was as alone as she was, maybe more so.
“Why?” she demanded.
The strange man adjusted his grip on Ikuto’s upper arm and Ikuto cried out,
stumbling on the sidewalk. Amu heard wetness splatter and looked down, seeing
blood at his feet. His hand closed down on her shoulder, the cold of his
fingers going into her bones like shards of ice, and he leaned into her, hard.
She felt him tremble, soft pathetic sounds of anguish escaping his mouth. He
might have whispered, “Please…” but she couldn’t be sure.
“Just get out of here! I’ll do what I can to hold them off. Just go!” The other
man said and abruptly manhandled both of them. Amu had no idea how she had
gotten on her bike with Ikuto behind her, his thin arms coiling around her
tightly. She was practically sitting in his lap, standing up in the pedals of
her bike so as not to put her weight on his poor body. “Go!” Then, the strange
man shoved her bike and the night was flying past her. Desperately, she pedaled
her bike just to keep upright.
Ikuto clung to her, his body shaking violently.
…
As the two children escaped into the night, the sounds of shouting chased them
down the dark alleys of the ghetto. Then, there was the distant rumble and
grind of a German engine catching and growling to life. Tires screamed as the
driver raced into the darkness, taking corners too fast. Her heart pounding,
Amu merely pedaled faster as if some unseen creature was at her heels. Neither
of them had any idea what Kazuomi had just shouted at their backs. Neither had
any idea of the danger Utau was in.
…
Amu tried to focus on the street, on not letting her bike topple over. It was
difficult to ride with another passenger, even a passenger as light as Ikuto
was. His endless trembling wasn’t helping her balance either, so the road took
all her attention. What little was left found itself focusing on the feeling of
his body pressed against her back.
He was rail thin, thinner than he had been when she had pressed against his
side when they rode the Teacups together. His body was more like a bundle of
twigs tied together with thin weak string and shaking like a sapling in a
powerful gale. She could even hear his teeth chattering. His arms were coiled
around her waist, his face pressed into her back, and his fingers fisted in her
tee-shirt. Even though the material, she could feel the cold of his body. He
smelled of blood and sweat and something else she couldn’t identify. Was it…
sex… she smelled on his skin?
“Ikuto?” she whispered.
He merely clung to her tighter, a soft sound escaping his lips. He didn’t
answer, didn’t even seem to have heard her voice. It was like… her voice
couldn’t reach him… as if he had fallen into a deep endless abyss and couldn’t
see the distant light at the top of the pit. Despair gnawed at his soul.
“Ikuto?” she murmured. “Please, answer me.”
But he didn’t.
Amu pedaled for a long time, making her way back into the familiar streets of
the town. Her legs grew exhausted, trembling on the pedals and she found
herself sinking down towards the seat of her bicycle. Ikuto’s lap was there and
she sank on to him, his freezing body pressed more completely against her. He
whimpered softly, his face pressing into the back of her neck now that she was
lower.
His lips trembled against her skin, rough and chapped.
“Ikuto?” Amu whispered. “Please… what happened?”
He moved slightly, shifting, but cried out in pain.
“Please, what should we do?” Amu asked him.
But there was still no answer from behind her. Desperately, she drew on her
last reserves of strength and continued to pedal. The night swarmed around
them, the moon casting long black shadows across the pavement. The world was
silent and suddenly seemed dangerous. The fact that Amu had her father’s knife
was no longer a comfort to her. She was afraid—afraid for herself, afraid of
the darkness, and afraid for Ikuto. What had happened?
…
Slowly, awareness came back to Ikuto.
First, he felt cool fresh air on his brutalized skin and goose bumps prickled
across his naked legs and throat. The night was crisp and sweet and he didn’t
think air had ever smelled so wonderful to him. It was like the world’s
sweetest perfume after nearly two weeks of being trapped inside that room with
the barred windows. He drew a deep breath of air into his lungs, relishing it,
savoring it.
Second, he became aware of movement. The night was flying past him, the soft
breeze tugging at his dark hair, and the moonlight felt soft on his skin. He
heard the soft whirr of pedaling and soft gasps for breath. Someone was
pedaling a bicycle. Was that why he was moving?
Then, he realized he had his arms wrapped tightly around a thin warm body, his
face buried in the curved of a slender neck, and his face tickled by soft
blonde tresses. There was a warm light weight on his thighs as if someone was
sitting on his lap. The scent was familiar to him, but he couldn’t recall where
he had smelled it before. It reminded him of a carnival, of happiness, of
tenderness. Who had saved him?
Finally, everything rushed back to him in one dizzying blur.
The child pornography ring, the building with barred windows, his step-father
selling him, the contract…
The ‘authentic’ gang rape, the Taser, Alto… Alto had saved him.
They had run, spilling out onto the street.
A bicycle, a blonde girl…
“Amu?” he whispered, questioningly. His voice sounded strange, strained, and he
wet his lips, trying to find his voice. His mouth tasted like blood. “Amu?” he
asked again. Amu had hair like rose-petals, soft pale red, not blonde. Yet the
blonde had known him, had called him by name, and he recognized her face. But
she wasn’t Utau. “Amu, is it… you?”
“Oh, Ikuto,” she breathed out. “Thank god.”
“What happened?” he whispered.
“I have no idea,” she said. “Please, talk to me. What happened to you, Ikuto?
Where have you been?”
He swallowed thickly, loosening his smothering grip on her small body. “I need…
I need to go someplace safe…”
“Safe?” she whispered. “Why? What happened? Are we in danger? Is someone after
you?” And now that Amu was with Ikuto, she added, “After us?”
Ikuto wet his lips again, reaching out around her and gripping the handlebars
of her bike. Amu continued to pedal, gasping for breath softly. Ikuto usually
would have taken the pedaling from her, too, but each breath sent a stab of
agony through his backside. He knew he was bleeding, not badly, but he was.
Right now, his body couldn’t take the strain.
“Just keep pedaling, Amu,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
She shuddered. “Ikuto… what happened… to you… in the last two weeks?”
“I’ll tell you… once we’re safe,” he murmured.
“Where should we go?” Amu asked him, her voice trembling slightly. She fought
back tears of panic and exhaustion.
Ikuto bit his lower lip, but the chapped skin split easily. His mouth flooded
with blood and he cough softly, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. The smell of
semen was still heavy on his skin. Nausea rolled through his stomach and he
forced it back, hot bile choking him. “I…” he began, but there was a long
moment of hesitation before he finally told her where to go.
                                     X X X
Try to ignore my crazy author’s note today… I think I might be losing it. Too
much caffeine and not enough sleep and too much ice cream and not enough
exercise. I need feedback…
Thank you!
***** Aftershock: Pt I *****
So, here’s the method to the madness.
This is it: Ikuto has been being raped and tortured by his step-father for ten
years. Do you think he’s just going to up and decide to report Kazuomi all of
the sudden? No, he wouldn’t. It would take something substantially horrible to
push Ikuto over the breaking point that would make him ask for help. Well, I’d
say being sold to a pornography ring would push him over the edge, wouldn’t
you?
                                     X X X
Tsukasa was woken by a loud yet somehow oddly weak pounding on the glass door
of the Planetarium. It was late, almost midnight, and a light drizzle was
beginning to fall outside. He had driven Rima home earlier and the two twins,
Nadeshiko and Nagihiko, had left shortly after he arrived back. Now, Tadase was
tucked in bed, sleeping, and Tsukasa was trying to do the same. For a moment,
he thought he might have dreamed the sound of the knocking.
He was so desperate to hear from Ikuto. No one had seen the boy in nearly two
weeks, not at school, not at his job. He could be dead and no one had any idea
what had happened to him. Tsukasa had been considering opening a Missing
Person’s report on the boy. Needless to say, he had been thinking about Ikuto a
lot lately and Ikuto and Utau often showed up at the Planetarium when it wasn’t
open, knocking on the glass doors downstairs. Tsukasa was sure he had dreamed
the sound, sadness prickling his heart.
Then, it came again, significantly more timid. A moment later, a louder
knocking echoed through the building.
Tsukasa threw off the warm covers and stuffed himself into his thick terrycloth
robe, belting it around his hips securely. Bare feet slap-slapping softly on
the hardwood floor, he hurried downstairs to the Planetarium. On the other side
of the glass doors, two children stood waiting for him—one tall and thin,
hunched in pain, the other just as thin but far shorter. A bicycle was
silhouetted behind them by the bright moonlight. They waited, their desperation
and fear reaching through the glass to Tsukasa’s heart. He pulled the door open
quickly.
“My god,” he gasped. “What’s happened?” The pale blue light of Planetarium’s
false stars flashed across their faces and his breath caught in his throat.
“Good God—Goddamn it!”
The young boy flinched and seemed to want to flee into the darkness, but the
girl grasped at his leather trench coat. The leather parted, revealing a
glimpse of naked and badly-bruised flesh, before he desperately closed the coat
over his body again.
“Tsukasa,” he whispered.
“Ikuto,” Tsukasa gasped. “Come in. Come in.” He reached out to touch Ikuto, to
draw him into the warmth of the building and out of the slow drizzle, but the
boy shied fearfully away, whimpering. Tsukasa instead reached for Amu and she
practically fell into his arms. Her fingers were knotted in Ikuto’s trench coat
and the boy stumbled forward when she pulled on him. Tsukasa reached out again,
but the boy still shied back. “God,” Tsukasa whispered, “What happened?”
The door fell shut, banging loudly on its hinges, but shutting out the cold of
the night. The sound echoed, faded, fell silent, and still neither of the two
children spoke. Amu began to cry, softly at first, clinging to Tsukasa, but her
soft sounds soon gave way to full choking sobs. Ikuto was completely silent, as
if he was in shock, just standing there in his bare feet.
Tsukasa studied them, trying to glean what had happened from their behavior and
bodies. He didn’t like what he saw.
Amu’s once-red hair was dyed pale blonde and delicately curled. Her face was no
longer caked in makeup, no longer hiding something far worse than acne or
teenage blemishes. She was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a tee-shirt with a
hooded sweatshirt zipped up to her throat. Her hair looked like someone cared
for her, as did her clothes, but her bike was packed. She was running away and
he had a feeling she would have been gone with the night, just another faceless
runaway, if she hadn’t run into Ikuto somehow.
Ikuto… Tsukasa was far more concerned for the boy. No one had seen him for two
weeks and now he turned up at Tsukasa’s door past midnight.
Ikuto had always been thin—stress, lack of sleep, and too much work melted the
pounds from his body—but he was like a scarecrow now. His beautiful blue eyes
were sunken deep in his head, shadowed by his limp hair, and deep with an
emotion Tsukasa didn’t want to understand. His lips were chapped, his mouth and
face badly bruised, his throat was just the same, and his nails had been chewed
to the quick. Then, his body was wrapped in that leather trench coat, allowing
him to hide. All Tsukasa could see were his bare skinny feet, ankles bruised as
if he had been bound just like his wrists.
Suddenly, something dripped.
Tsukasa glanced toward the sink out of habit, but he had gotten the leak fixed
last week.
Again, something dripped.
Tsukasa, thinking it was Amu’s tears, gently lifted her face and moved to brush
her tears away. But the girl’s golden eyes glowed in the dark and her tears had
tried a few minutes ago.
Another drip.
He turned to Ikuto. The boy’s face was chalk pale, his hands twisted in the
fabric of the coat, holding it almost desperately closed.
Drip.
Tsukasa’s eyes slid down Ikuto’s body, seeking out the sound.
Drip-drip.
There was a small pool of blood gathering between Ikuto’s feet.
“My god,” Tsukasa breathed. “Ikuto… there’s blood. You’re bleeding.”
He looked down, saw the spreading blood, and panic consumed his face.
“Tsukasa,” he whispered desperately. “Please, you said if I ever needed it you
would… you would help me so please… please, help me!” He begged, begged as if
Tsukasa would turn him away and deny him help—but Tsukasa would never do that.
“Where are you bleeding from, Ikuto?” Tsukasa asked, gently reaching out for
the boy.
Ikuto trembled, his teeth clenching to keep the whimpers trapped inside.
“Ikuto,” Tsukasa said gently. “Where are you hurt?”
“E-e-everywhere,” he whispered.
Tsukasa’s eyes widened. He breathed, “What?”
Ikuto nodded, his throat flashing as he struggled to breathe. “Everywhere,” he
said again.
Tsukasa’s hands moved as if they were separate from his mind. They reached out
for Ikuto, reached for the trench coat, lightly gripped the fabric, and tried
to pull it open.
Ikuto cried out, taking a stumbling step back. Blood marked his path, his bare
feet slipping on it.
“Ikuto,” Tsukasa insisted. “I’m not going to hurt you. Please, let me see.”
But Ikuto had been hurt too much and too badly for far too long. He couldn’t
willingly give up his naked body for someone’s eyes, for anyone’s eyes. As much
as he knew he needed help and he knew Tsukasa could be trusted not to hurt him,
some animalistic fear made him back away.
“Ikuto, please,” Tsukasa murmured. “I need to know if you need to go to the
hospital.”
The wall bumped Ikuto’s back. He whirled to face it, terror blanketing his
face. His breath came in gasps.
“Ikuto, it’s okay,” Tsukasa whispered. “It’s alright, son.”
Fresh panic consumed Ikuto and he pressed harder against the wall, pain making
his vision blur. “No,” he whimpered, clutching the coat closed over his
nakedness. “No, no…”
Amu was still clinging to Tsukasa’s side, drawn closer to Ikuto with each step
Tsukasa ventured towards him. The closer they got, the more Ikuto broke down.
Finally, Tsukasa stopped approaching and made a soft desperate sound. Now, he
turned to Amu and gently gripped her shoulders.
“Amu, where did you find Ikuto? Do you have any idea what might have happened?
Did he get mugged or something?”
“I…” she whispered and stared into Tsukasa’s deep cobalt eyes. A calm washed
over her as she looked into his eyes. “I was running away,” she whispered. “I
got lost and wound up in the bad section of downtown. You know,” she lowered
her voice, “the ghetto.”
Tsukasa smiled faintly, brushing some pale hair back from her face
comfortingly. “I know,” he said gently.
Amu gnawed the corner of her mouth. “There was… a big building with barred
windows. I stopped. I was… afraid to run away. Then, the doors opened and Ikuto
came out of the building with another man. They were in a real hurry and almost
knocked me over.”
“This other man,” Tsukasa asked, “did you know him?”
Amu shook her head. “No, but he insisted I take Ikuto away. He sounded like… it
was a matter of life and death.” She fell silent, looking at Ikuto.
Tsukasa patted her head and opened his mouth to tell her that she did a good
job when Amu spoke again.
“He said something weird,” she said softly, almost to herself. “He said, ‘I’ll
do what I can to hold them off,’ and he sounded so afraid.” She turned her
golden eyes to Tsukasa and stared right into him. “Who was he trying to hold
off, Tsukasa?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured.
Amu turned her eyes back to Ikuto. “He was bleeding when he came out of the
building with the barred windows and he’s still bleeding now,” she whispered.
“He needs help.”
“I know,” Tsukasa said, “but I need to know where he’s bleeding from. It could
be something we could treat here…”
Ikuto had calmed slightly since Tsukasa had stopped approaching him. Now,
sucking in a deep breath, he lifted his eyes and stared at Tsukasa. There were
still a few feet of space between them, just enough to comfort Ikuto. The blind
animal panic was leaving now, slowly ebbing. He became aware that Amu and
Tsukasa were talking softly and Amu was doing what she could to tell Tsukasa
what she knew. Her voice was soft and sweet, Tsukasa’s was deeper and stronger
but just as comforting. Ikuto let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he had been
holding.
“I need some idea of what happened,” Tsukasa was saying to Amu.
Ikuto breathed in again and let it out slowly. Then, he whispered, “My step-
father…”
Tsukasa and Amu turned towards him, their eyes glowing.
Ice settled in the pit of Ikuto’s stomach, but he forced his hands to move.
“Kazuomi did… He did…” His shaking hands slowly pulled the trench coat open.
“He did… this… to me…”
Tsukasa’s heart shattered, a stone welling up in his throat. Amu gasped, her
hands lifting to her mouth.
The black leather fabric parted, revealing Ikuto’s pale skin. He was naked
underneath it. Blood was smeared all over Ikuto’s thighs and ran down the backs
and insides of his legs. Bruises shaped like hands and fingers marked his hips,
thighs, and throat. Semen splattered his chest, mingled with the blood rolling
down his legs. He trembled, his hands shaking badly, as he held open his coat.
Then, a shuddering sob escaped his lips and tears began to run down his face.
After a moment, Ikuto clutched the coat closed again, hugging himself tightly,
and merely cried.
Tsukasa hadn’t moved. He wasn’t able to move. His horror was like a lead weight
pulling apart his heart.
Amu found herself first and reached out for Ikuto. He shied away again, but she
didn’t continue to reach for him. She just held out her hand like she was
dealing with a small frightened creature. Patiently, she waited for him to come
to her. Finally, he did, sliding his icy fingers into her warm palm. She held
his hand, squeezing it gently, and then turned to Tsukasa. Again, she held out
her hand. “We need to go to the hospital,” she whispered.
Tsukasa lurched into action, grasping her fingers and giving them a squeeze
before pulling away. “Stay here with Ikuto while I wake Tadase up,” he said.
“Just one minute.” Then, he scrambled off. The slap-slap of his bare feet
diminished as he hurried upstairs.
Amu and Ikuto stood together, backs against the wall.
                                     X X X
Don’t worry. We’ll get to Utau soon, but until then, we’re working through
Ikuto and Amu’s issues.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Aftershock: Pt II *****
Okay, next chapter.
                                     X X X
Tadase was woken in the middle of the night by the sound of knocking, but he
ignored it and went back to sleep. After all, he was living with his uncle and
that’s what adults were for—to answer doors in the middle of the night. They
were supposed to take care of problems, to take care of children, to protect
them. Besides, he was having such a wonderful dream, a dream that his parents
were alive and smiling at him. It seemed like he had only just slipped back
into the dream world when someone was trying to rouse him. A distant voice was
calling, “Wake up…”
And it was just like that night. It felt like an eternity had passed since that
night, but it had only been a few months. The night the babysitter came into
his room and woke him up, her eyes wet and her face pale, and she had said,
“Tadase, get up. There’s something that you need to—Something’s happened—You
have to—Someone’s here to—” And she hadn’t been able to find the words to tell
an twelve-year-old boy that his parents had been killed in a car accident and
were never coming home.
Tadase’s eyes shot open. For a moment, he stared into his uncle’s warm cobalt
eyes and saw the blonde hair and thought he was looking at the babysitter’s
face. He jolted upright in bed, his small hands fisted in the coverlet, and
shouted, “No!”
“Shh, shh,” Tsukasa soothed, stroking Tadase’s back and holding him close.
“It’s alright.”
Tadase clung to his uncle and forced himself to get it together. He was
thirteen now, for crying out loud. He as almost an adult! “What’s going on?” he
asked instead, wishing his voice didn’t sound like that of a small child. “What
time is it?”
Tsukasa stood up from the side of the bed where he had been sitting. “Just get
dressed and come downstairs to the Planetarium, okay? It’s raining so dress
warm and grab an umbrella or a raincoat.”
Tadase nodded slowly.
“That’s my boy,” Tsukasa said. Then, he was gone from Tadase’s room.
The bedroom door hung open, moonlight slanting in from the hallway. Tadase
tossed back the covers and quickly took off his pajamas. He pulled on some
jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. After shoving his feet into socks and sneakers,
he grabbed a light raincoat from his closet and shrugged into it. Then, he
headed downstairs to the Planetarium, taking a moment to look at the beautiful
stars. Suddenly, he became aware that he wasn’t alone in the Planetarium.
Against the wall, two people were standing.
“Who’s there?” Tadase shouted.
They didn’t answer.
He was about to shout for his uncle when a warm hand touched his shoulder. He
jumped, scared out of his skin, and whirled around to face Tsukasa. “What is—?”
he began, but Tsukasa shushed him.
“It’s Ikuto and Amu,” Tsukasa said gently. “Now, come on. We need to go to the
hospital.”
“Hospital?” Tadase repeated.
Tsukasa wrapped his arm around his nephew’s shoulders and tugged him towards
Amu and Ikuto. “Yes, the hospital. I’ll explain it to you after we get these
two taken care of, alright?”
Tadase nodded.
“Good,” Tsukasa said, patting Tadase’s shoulder one final time.
Then, Tsukasa turned off the star projector and the Planetarium went dark. A
moment later, the room was flooded with dim fluorescent spot lighting. Tadase
saw a puddle of blood on the linoleum floor and there as splattered path of it
leading to where Ikuto stood with Amu. Beneath Ikuto’s feet, more blood had
gathered. Something was dripping, but Tsukasa had gotten the leaky sink fixed.
“Let’s go,” Tsukasa said, handing Amu an umbrella and Ikuto a towel. “Sit on
that towel once we get in the car, Ikuto, okay?”
Ikuto nodded, his eyes dark and haunted.
“Let’s hurry,” Tsukasa said to the children, ushering them towards the door.
Tadase followed quickly and everyone huddled under the awning outside while
Tsukasa locked up the Planetarium. Then, the four of them hustled to Tsukasa’s
car and piled in. Amu and Ikuto slid into the back, Ikuto making a soft sound
of pain as he moved. Tadase scrambled into the passenger seat and Tsukasa
started the engine. They pulled quickly out of the parking lot. The cool
slanting drizzle pattered softly on the windshield of the car and the world was
silent save that sound and the steady whup-whup of the windshield wipers. In
the backseat, Amu still held Ikuto’s hand tightly and he refused to let go as
well.
…
Bailey Mashiro (1) was tired. She had been working too hard and hardly sleeping
at all. The system that had once prevented her and her husband, Corvin, from
fighting too much—him working during the day and her working at night—was
breaking down. If they so much as looked at each other, they began to fight. It
was exhausting and Bailey had come to terms that nothing was going to save
their marriage. She had filed for divorce just yesterday and then fought with
her husband about it. But, her work at the hospital kept her from thinking
about it too much. For that, she was grateful.
It was after midnight when Amakawa Tsukasa came into the Emergency Room with
three children in tow. He immediately came up to the desk and explained in a
calm and urgent voice that he needed medical attention for one of the children
right away. Hoshina née Tsukiyomi Ikuto was bleeding. There was something about
the way he spoke that made Bailey hurry right over to him.
“What happened?” she asked him.
He glanced at the children huddled at his back and leaned towards her. Then, in
a very soft voice, he added, “We’re also going to need the police.”
Bailey’s heart began to pound. She opened her mouth, but Tsukasa cut her off.
“Please,” he said. “Ikuto is bleeding a lot and I’m concerned. He might need
stitches or,” he glanced at the children again, “or something else.”
“Alright,” she said to Tsukasa. “We’ll take care of it.” Then, she turned to
Ikuto and took in the dried blood that covered his feet and the fresh blood
rolling down from his inner thighs. What kind of injury lurked, hidden, beneath
that black leather trench coat? She held out her hand to him. “Come with me,
honey,” she said gently. “We’re going to get you some help.”
Ikuto glanced at her and then looked at Amu. He was still holding Amu’s hand,
more like clinging to it, and didn’t look like he wanted to let go. “Can… can
she come with me?” he whispered.
“Are you sure?” Bailey asked.
He nodded slowly.
Bailey glanced at Amu. “Do you want to come with him?”
Amu didn’t look like she wanted to, but she nodded anyway. “Yes,” she
whispered. “I’ll come with him.”
Bailey nodded, glanced at Tsukasa for approval, and then ushered the two
children into the back. Tsukasa and Tadase stood together in the Emergency
Room, waiting, until a nurse brought Tsukasa some paperwork to fill out. Then,
the two went to sit together in the hideous overstuffed armchairs in the
waiting room.
“Uncle Tsukasa?” Tadase whispered after a long moment of silence.
“Yes?” he offered.
“What happened to Ikuto?” Tadase asked.
For a moment, Tsukasa hesitated. He wanted to protect Tadase, but he knew
children weren’t as sheltered as adults liked to think. Children were just as
vulnerable, if not more vulnerable, to all forms of abuse and they knew about
just as much as adults—if not more. So, there was no point in denying Tadase
the truth.
“Ikuto is being sexually abused by his step-father,” Tsukasa said plainly. “I’m
not sure what exactly happened to him, but he needs help.”
Tadase’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s horrible.”
Tsukasa nodded and continued filling out the paperwork he had been given.
“We’re going to help him, right?” Tadase asked.
Tsukasa smiled at his nephew and patted his shoulder. “Of course we will,” he
said.
“Good,” Tadase agreed. “And what about Amu?”
Tsukasa sighed. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I’m not sure what’s up with Amu,
but we’ll find out if she needs help. And if she needs it, we’ll help her. Is
that good enough for you, Tadase?”
The boy nodded.
“Good, good,” Tsukasa murmured and continued filling out the paperwork.
…
Amu sat quietly beside Ikuto while Mashiro Bailey patched up his body. He was
naked, but refused to let go of her hand so the clever young doctor had wrapped
a handkerchief over Amu’s eyes. Now, she could be with Ikuto through everything
without seeing his nudity. Sadly, though she couldn’t see the damage to his
body, she could hear everything. She heard him whimpering in pain before the
pain killers kicked in. She listened to every question and every answer as
first the doctors and then a single police officer questioned him about what
had happened.
Ikuto clung to her hand, his icy fingers slowly warming, and answered every
question they asked without hesitation. Now that he was finally here in the
hospital, finally safe, his story seemed to just pour out of him. It was as if
a dam was broken inside him and everything it had been holding back just gushed
forth.
He told the policeman about the concert, about how Kazuomi had threatened his
little sister, and how he had given his step-father permission to do whatever
he wanted to Ikuto so long as he didn’t hurt her. After being assured that that
permission didn’t matter and what Kazuomi did was very wrong, Ikuto continued
his story. Finally, he told them about the pornography, about the torment he
went through, about the rape and the abuse, and about his escape with Alto’s
help. Then, he told them everything.
When he finished, only an hour had passed. It seemed impossible that such a
terrible sordid story could fit into such a short period of time. Ikuto was
still holding Amu’s hand and, by now, his skin had warmed substantially. The
pain had also mostly left his body, so had the shock that had been paralyzing
him.
After the police left, having taken their pictures and statements and medical
reports on the state of his body, Ikuto turned to Amu and gently tugged down
the blindfold with his free hand. She blinked blearily in the bright
fluorescent light of the hospital room. For a moment, everything swam in and
out of focus. Then, she made out Ikuto’s handsome though bruised face.
“Ikuto?” she said softly.
His chapped lips pulled in a painful smile. “Amu,” he whispered.
A lump welled up in her throat.
His fingertips lightly traced her bare arm, lingering on the scar where the
bone had broken through her flesh so long ago. “You got your cast removed,” he
murmured.
Amu nodded. “Yeah.”
Ikuto met her eyes, his hand lingering on her skin, their fingers still
intertwined. “Amu?”
She nodded, forcing back tears.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Timidly, she leaned towards him just as he pulled her lightly forward. They
each hesitated—Ikuto afraid and Amu nervous. Then, she closed the space between
them and embraced him tightly with her free arm. He curled into her, clinging
to her just as he had since she had found him on the street, and buried his
face in the junction of her neck and shoulder. She held him just as tightly,
finally allowing herself to feel joy that he was alive and safe. They hugged,
two injured and beautiful children with only each other.
There was a light knock on the door and they both turned to look, still pressed
close, shoulder to shoulder and holding hands. Tsukasa and Tadase stood in the
doorway and Ikuto nearly smiled and thanked Tsukasa. Then, he saw the
expression on Tsukasa’s face. Something was—!
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.
Tsukasa came into the room, gesturing for Tadase to stay back. “Ikuto,” he
said, his voice painfully serious. “Where is Utau?”
…
Kazuomi’s sleek night-black Mercedes screamed up the driveway of the Hoshina’s
villa. He had been driving fast ever since he left the porn studio, breaking
every law known to man. Now, finally home, he parked haphazardly, taking out a
delicately preened rosebush, and hurled himself out of the car. He was so
angry—beyond angry—in fact, angry didn’t even cover how he felt. He was
enraged. He saw red. He was going to destroy Utau
Best of all, he would make Ikuto pay for his escape and he knew exactly how to
make the boy suffer completely. Utau—Ikuto had been protecting her for ten long
years, suffering rape after rape, turning his body inside out and working
himself to the bone—all to protect Utau. Kazuomi knew that she was even more
precious to him than his father’s violin, the violin Ikuto had given Kazuomi a
blowjob just to possess. Utau was Ikuto’s whole world and now Kazuomi would
destroy her.
Ikuto thought he was so clever—getting Alto to help him escape by playing the
brutalized little boy in desperate need of help. Well, Kazuomi would show Ikuto
just how powerless and weak he was. Ikuto may have escaped, but Utau would not.
There were four days left of that contract and Utau would suffer through each
and every one of them until there was nothing virginal left in her body. She
would be destroyed and it would all be Ikuto’s fault.
Enraged, Kazuomi threw open the front door. It crashed into the wall, knocked a
picture off so that it shattered, and then he slammed the door shut again. His
heavy boots crunched on the broken glass, reminding him of the night before the
concert when he had fucked Ikuto senseless all over the broken glass in the
hallway. The house was dark but it was after midnight. Utau was probably
asleep, not that she would be anymore after the loud bang of the front door.
Kazuomi could just imagine the deliciously terrified look on her face as she
sat up in her bed, clutching the covers to her scrawny little chest. He would
hear her scream when he dragged her out of her bed and deflowered her. She
would scream and cry and beg for Ikuto and her brother would never come to save
her. He had escaped and left her behind. And now, there would be no escape for
Utau.
Kazuomi’s hand closed on the knob and he threw Utau’s bedroom door open with a
crash.
                                     X X X
(1) Well, we last heard from the Mashiro parents in chapter twenty-eight, so I
felt the need for a small recap of Rima’s parents. I couldn’t find their names
anywhere and Rima’s name means ‘true castle’ and Bailey and Corvin are both
derivatives of names meaning ‘castle.’ And that’s about it.
Oh, deathly cliffhanger!
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review! Tell me your next guess—one guess only.
***** Utau: Pt I *****
Okay, everyone breathe. Breathe now… Okay, everyone feeling a little more in
control? Good. Let’s read on!
Here’s Utau.
                                     X X X
~A few hours earlier…
It was after ten and yet Souma Kuukai found himself standing there on the
doorstep of pop idol, Meikyuu Butterfly’s mansion. He didn’t think it was
polite to be knocking on anyone’s door at this hour of the night and yet… here
he was anyway. He lived with his four older brothers and they were driving him
nuts. If he stayed home any longer, he was going to explode. So, even though it
was nearly eleven, he had escaped into the city on his barely-street-legal
motorbike. And somehow he had gotten to Meikyuu Butterfly’s doorstep and was
now warring with himself over whether or not to knock.
Well, there were lights on inside. Someone must be awake, he thought. “Yeah,
probably her parents,” he muttered to himself. “Or her… bodyguards?” Kuukai
winced. Her guards would have great fun rolling him up into a little ball and
tossing him out, cartoon style.
And why would she remember him anyway? She had met him on the street when it
was raining and he had bought her a bowl of ramen and given her an umbrella.
That wasn’t exactly a memorable first date. “Whoa, date?” he sputtered, “Who
said it was a date?”
Kuukai groaned and smacked his forehead. “This is stupid,” he muttered to
himself. “This is… so stupid. This is really stupid.”
…
Utau was lying on her bed, trying to work together a new song, but she was
unable to even focus. The notes and words were swimming all over the page. She
couldn’t stop worrying about Ikuto. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he
alright? What had that bastard Kazuomi done to her precious brother? Tears
burned in her eyes and throat, choking her.
With a sharp cry, she threw all the scattered papers off her bed and buried her
face in her pillow. In silence, she began to cry. The sobs were soft and
dainty. She had a lot of practice crying quietly so no one would hear her. She
never wanted Ikuto or Kazuomi to know when she was crying. Ikuto, because he
would think it was his fault. Kazuomi, because he was a bastard. So, she sobbed
in silence.
Suddenly, she heard a young man’s voice.
“Ikuto?” she breathed and quickly sat up in bed.
She flew to her window and peeked out, but she couldn’t see anything from this
angle. She would have to open the window to look out and see who was there.
Either that or go downstairs, but she didn’t want to risk running into Kazuomi
if he was home. So, she cautiously, doing her best to be completely silent,
opened the window.
“Success,” she breathed and silently slid up the screen. Now, she could look
out and did so eagerly.
Standing below at her front door, and apparently talking to himself, was that
guy she had met in the rain a last week. She still had his umbrella leaning up
inside her closet, unsure of what to do with it. What was his name again?
Kuukai, wasn’t it?
Utau leaned her elbows on the sill and just listened to him chatter and watched
him, allowing her lips to pull into a small smile.
“Yeah, probably her parents,” Kuukai was muttering. “Or her… bodyguards?” He
shared a nervous laugh with himself and then fell silent for a moment,
thinking. “Whoa, date?!” He suddenly shouted, startling Utau. “Who said it was
a date?” More silence and he scratched his head, staring at the door. “This is
stupid,” he grumbled. “This is… so stupid. This is really stupid.”
“I’ll tell you what’s stupid,” Utau said suddenly.
Kuukai leaped a good foot in the air, shock plastering across his face. He
looked around desperately, searching for the voice.
“People who talk to themselves,” Utau finished.
Kuukai was still looking around, his head rolling left and right so that he
looked a lot like a bobble-head.
So Utau added, “Up here, dummy.”
He tipped his head back and stared up at her, his cheeks painted pink.
Utau gave him a little finger wave and then demanded, “What are you doing
here?”
His blush deepened. “Well, I… uh…”
Utau glowered down at him, waiting.
He sputtered a few more times. “I, uh, umm, uh, I—”
“You have no idea, do you?” Utau interrupted.
Kuukai scratched the back of his neck. “Well, no… I just… I didn’t want to be
at home anymore, my brothers were all bugging me, and—”
“You what? Just happened to wind up on my doorstep?”
“Well… yeah,” Kuukai said.
Utau tried to give him a firm look, but he just looked so stupid and confused
that she found herself giggling instead. “You’re such a stupid kid,” she
laughed.
“I’m not a kid,” he protested. “I’m fourteen.”
Utau laughed again. “I’m fifteen, older than you.”
“Yeah, well…” Kuukai trailed off when Utau laughed again.
She had a really beautiful laugh, just like her singing. And her face was so
beautiful with all that beautiful tumbling blonde hair scraped back into two
loose pigtails and her beautiful violet eyes and she was wearing pretty little
butterfly earrings. Utau was… a really beautiful girl. Kuukai was in love.
“So,” he said suddenly. “You’re awake and I’m awake… so… do you want to, uh, go
do something?”
Utau managed to stop laughing—it was rather difficult considering this entire
situation. “Do something? At eleven o’clock at night?”
“Unless you have other plans,” Kuukai said.
“This late at night?” Utau snorted.
Kuukai blushed again. “Yeah, well, it could happen.”
He was totally darling, Utau decided, and she didn’t want to be in this house
anyway. Ikuto wasn’t here and she was afraid of what Kazuomi would do if he
caught her alone. She had been living in fear for the past two weeks and it was
weighing on her like lead. If she stayed any longer, she would lose her mind.
So, this was a blessing in a stupid disguise.
“I’d love to,” she said.
Kuukai’s eyes almost fell out of his head. “You would?”
“Sure,” she said with a thin shrug. “It’s better than staying home, but I can’t
come out the front door. I’ll need to come out the window.” Here, she gave
Kuukai a sexy little wink that she often flashed at fans from the stage when
she performed. “Do you think you can catch me?”
It had the desired effect. Kuukai blushed deep red.
But Utau had only been kidding about that. She was careful and she didn’t often
trust people. She certainly didn’t trust some fourteen-year-old Casanova to
catch her if she jumped from a second story window. She would only trust Ikuto,
her dead father, or a fireman to do that. Instead, she ducked back into her
room to quickly change into some more suitable window-jumping clothes. She
spotted his borrowed umbrella and brought it to the window, peering down at
him.
“This is yours,” she called. “You should have it back.”
Kuukai stared at her, a stupid grin plastered on his face. “You kept it?”
“I wasn’t going to throw it away. It’s a perfectly good umbrella,” she said
with a snort.
Kuukai chuckled softly. “Then, keep it.”
Utau felt her cheeks go warm. When was the last time someone had given her a
gift? Even on as impromptu as an umbrella? She quickly ducked back into her
room and put the umbrella back into her closet. Investigating her face in the
mirror and finding that her blush was gone, she deemed it safe to reveal
herself to Kuukai again. She moved to the window and then crouched on the sill.
Stretching out her arms, she easily grasped the branch of a nearby maple tree
and scrambled down it to the ground. There, she brushed herself off and smiled
at Kuukai.
“Well,” she asked, “What do you have in mind?”
Kuukai gestured to his nearby motorbike. “It’s not a school night so we can be
out late and I have a sort of vehicle,” he trailed off, blushing. “Whatever you
want. You decide.”
Utau gazed at him for a moment. Then, she said with complete seriousness,
“Drive me to Hollywood?”
“Sure,” Kuukai said.
Utau laughed and her voice was like tinkling bells. Meikyuu Butterfly was a
star, was an idol, but she was so normal. She was really just a person like
him, average and normal (except that she was much prettier than regular girls).
Even though she was making fun of him and teasing him, Kuukai still found
himself smiling.
“Hey,” he said as he pushed his motorbike back down her driveway.
She walked beside him, head tipped back to gaze up at the stars. “Hmm?”
“Can I call you Utau?” he asked.
“That is my name,” she told him. “What else would you call me?”
“Gorgeous,” he breathed out.
Utau did blush in earnest now, but instead she snapped, “Don’t make fun of me.”
Kuukai said indignantly, “I’m not.” He hesitated, considering whether or not to
continue, but no one had ever accused him of being cautious. “You’re really
beautiful, Utau.”
Utau snorted, “Yeah, yeah,” and tried to sound like she didn’t care.
At first, Kuukai thought she was playing coy or hard-to-get, but then he saw a
tremor go through her body. A bad feeling overwhelmed him and he glanced back
at the beautiful villa behind them. She had snuck out her window tonight. She
had been in the rain that day, without an umbrella, looking like she was on the
cusp of breaking down. There was something about her that told him her life
wasn’t all roses and concerts and fame. There was something about her that
called to the little boy in him who had lost his parents. She had a secret and
it wasn’t something normal or something small.
“Utau?” he asked.
She glanced at him. The moonlight reflected in her bruise-colored eyes and he
saw it lurking there in her gaze—that haunted expression that never left a
child once they had been hurt. When innocence was touched and soiled, that
haunted look stayed in their faces forever. Kuukai knew that and he also knew
that she wouldn’t want to talk about.
So, he said, “Nothing, never mind.”
Silence spread between them as they reached the end of her driveway. Utau
looked back at her house, her expression hard to read. Was she thinking about
going back, climbing the tree and going back into her room? Was she thinking
about whatever haunted her expression? So, to distract her, Kuukai said the
first thing that came to his mind.
“Why don’t we go to the arcade? They have great chili fries.” He could have
smacked himself—what a stupid thing to say to a girl! The arcade, chili fries!
What was he thinking?
But Utau’s lips pulled up into a small smile. “Yeah,” she breathed out. “That
sounds good.”
                                     X X X
Don’t be too relieved yet. Notice… Part One…
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Utau: Pt II *****
Okay, so I didn’t update on Monday because my cat is missing and pretty much
everything has taken low priority to that. (The whiners aren’t going to stop me
or make me not update. Life will.) If or until I find some news of my cat,
updating will continue to take low priority so… I don’t know how this will play
out. I’ll try not to neglect the story completely, but my cat is my baby.
                                     X X X
At the end of the driveway, Kuukai swung his leg over the back of his motorbike
and then gestured the backseat to Utau. (Well, it wasn’t so much a seat as a
pillow he had strapped onto the long metal seat.) She looked at the vehicle
suspiciously for a moment and then looked at him. For a moment, he was afraid
she was going to decide this was a little too dangerous for a famous idol and
make a beeline for her mansion, but her hesitation lasted only a moment. Then,
she swung her leg over the bike as well and settled herself in behind him.
“Hold on to me,” he told her softly, caught between wanting to make those words
sound romantic and just wanting her to be safe.
She rested her hands on his waist, her touch butterfly-light. Kuukai wanted to
tell her to hold on tightly, but he didn’t quite dare. He wanted her to come
out with him and didn’t want to give her any reason to go back to her house.
So, he kick-started his motorbike, revved the sputtering engine until it
purred, and then gave it gas.
Utau shrieked in surprise as the bike lurched forward suddenly, her arms
coiling tightly around Kuukai’s chest. Her fingers knotted in his t-shirt,
clinging to him tightly, her face buried in the back of his neck. Kuukai let up
on the gas, slowing the bike to a tamer pace, and laid one of his hands over
her wrist.
“Hey,” he said over the wind. “Are you alright?”
Utau didn’t really answer his question, but he heard her giggle softly. Then,
though she still gripped him tightly, she lifted her face to the wind and
laughed in earnest. Kuukai smiled, giving the bike a little more gas so that
Utau’s happiness was borne away on the cool night wind.
Kuukai navigated the motorbike through a collection of side streets, weaving
around trashcans and hobos. Utau’s skin crawled slightly, prickling with goose
bumps as they slithered through shadow after shadow. She had a sudden bad
thought. What if Kuukai had been sent by her step-father to take her somewhere?
What if she was going to become a tool in the demise and torment of her
beautiful older brother? What if this was all a trick?
Her mind spiraled and swam with these possibilities. She watched the road move
swiftly past them and was just considering jumping from the motorbike and
fleeing into the night when the alleyways and darkness parted to reveal the
bright lights of an old-fashioned movie palace. The lights flashed and played
in all manner of patterns and colors, lighting up the night like an aurora.
Just beneath the sign advertising reruns of an old silver-screen classic was
the bright neon flare the proclaimed ‘Midway Arcade’ to anyone who cared to
look.
“I know it’s a little bright,” Kuukai said as he wove his motorbike across the
street. “But they have all the old-fashioned games here, Pac-Man and such. And
they have the best chili fries.” He was quiet for a moment. “And if you even
wanted, we could stay and see the midnight showing of the movie.”
Utau didn’t loosen her grip on his waist until he shut off the engine and
lowered the kickstand. Then, running a hand through her tangled blonde tresses,
she stepped off. The countless flashing lights played on her pale face, shining
in her eyes. She looked like she did when she was performing on
stage—beautiful, powerful, untouchable. Utau heard Kuukai gasp softly and
glanced at him. There was worship in his expression as he gazed at her. She
only wished she felt like someone who deserved that look.
Her life was a mess.
Her mother and father were dead. Her stepfather was an asshole. Her brother was
being raped and abused all to protect her from said asshole. To top it all off,
she didn’t even know where Ikuto was. For all she knew, Kazuomi could have
killed him. A stone formed in her throat, tears gathering at the corners of her
eyes, and she did what she could to choke them back before Kuukai noticed.
Sadly, he was a moron, but he was intuitive. He saw the sadness touch her face
before she could hide it.
“Hey,” he said softly, touching her shoulder. “How about those chili fries?”
Unable to speak, Utau merely nodded.
Kuukai locked up his bike and pocketed the key. Then, he gently pressed his
hand to the small of her back and guided her into the glowing arcade. It was
noisy and bright inside and smelled of fried food. Kuukai navigated through the
maze of games easily and then sat Utau down at a small café table while he made
his way to the counter to purchase chili fries and sodas. Utau heard the man
working behind the counter call Kuukai by name and they shared a laugh. A small
smile pulled at her lips. It seemed everyone knew Kuukai and liked him. Being
out with him was probably good for her. She sighed, resting her cheek on her
hand and watching him as he made his way back to her.
“Here we go,” Kuukai said as he set his purchases down. “A feast for two.”
Utau giggled and selected a fry, popping it into her mouth and making a
delighted sound. “You’re right,” she said. “These are good.”
Though Kuukai had bought two orders of fries expecting to have to finish off
Utau’s, she ate them all eagerly and then sat across from him daintily sipping
her soda as if she hadn’t just absorbed enough grease and raw onions to kill a
person.
“Wow,” he said, reminded of how quickly and easily she had eaten that large
bowl of ramen the first time he met her.
“I like food,” was all she said.
“But you’re an idol,” he murmured.
“And a person,” she continued. “Why shouldn’t I eat what I like?”
“You don’t wear a disguise either,” Kuukai added.
“I’m not a criminal. Why should I hide?” she asked him, her eyes going right
into his soul.
He swallowed thickly, but didn’t have an answer for her.
She sipped her soda silently, watching him for a long time before her eyes slid
towards the arcade and were lost on the scene of endlessly blinking lights.
Kuukai quickly finished off his own fries and took a sip of soda to ward
against onion breath. Even when he stood up, Utau continued to gaze at the
games.
“Do you want to play?” he asked her.
She glanced at him.
“I have some quarters.”
She was quiet for a moment, staring at him, sizing him up. Then, she smiled and
it was the most beautiful thing Kuukai had ever seen. He would have bought her
a small country just so long as she kept smiling like that. But her dark eyes
strayed to the darkness outside the window and the smile was lost from her face
in an instant. He wondered what she was thinking about, but didn’t dare ask.
…
“Wow, Utau,” Kuukai breathed out. “I had no idea you were so good. I should get
a handicap if I keep playing against you.”
Utau pumped the small plastic gun and took careful and quick aim. She blew away
the zombie before Kuukai even saw it coming. As if the gun was real, she blew
away imaginary smoke. “I have an older brother,” she said by way of
explanation. In a happier time in her life, she and Ikuto did used to play
together in arcades like this all the time. Ikuto was a beast as games and she
just learned to keep up with him.
So far, Utau had kicked Kuukai’s ass in everything from Pac Man to air hockey.
He was about ready to quit, but Utau looked so happy that he couldn’t bear to
stop playing.
“Last quarter,” he said, brandishing it between his fingers. “What do you want
to play?”
She smiled at him, pushing the plastic gun back into its holster as her high
score flashed across the screen. “You pick. Make it something you can win.”
Kuukai snorted. “I can’t win anything against you,” he said.
She grinned. She made a little gun with her fingers and mimed shooting him,
winking.
Kuukai felt himself blush to the roots of his hair and wished his emotions
weren’t so transparent.
Utau only laughed at his plight, tipping her head back like a little kid.
“You pick,” he said finally, pressing the quarter into her hand.
She jolted when he touched her, looking as if she wanted to pull away, but she
forced herself to stay. It was only a touch, just a gentle innocent touch from
a friend that meant no harm. Her mind filled with images of Ikuto—bent on his
hands and knees, naked white skin glowing with sweat and stained with bruises,
his head pulled back harshly by his dark hair so that she could see the agony
in his face as Kazuomi pounded into him from behind. Then, she felt Kazuomi’s
mouth on hers, pressing, choking, the smell of him making it hard to breathe.
She gasped for breath, the quarter sliding from her fingers and rolling away.
She gagged, clutching the front of her t-shirt as she tried to breathe.
“Utau,” Kuukai called and his voice seemed to be drifting in from far off.
“Utau, what’s wrong? Utau!”
She looked up into his face. His lips were right there, soft and pink and being
worried by his teeth with his concern for her. Suddenly, all she wanted was for
the feeling of Kazuomi kissing her to go away. For just a moment, she wanted to
forget all her troubles and be normal. For a moment, she just wanted to feel
someone’s arms around her like Ikuto occasionally held her when he didn’t hate
his own body. Even is just for a moment with a near strange, she wanted to feel
cherished and loved. So, she grasped Kuukai’s cheeks softly and pulled his face
towards her. Kuukai gasped as her lips touched his. She still tasted of chili
fries and root beer and something sweet that must have been her lip gloss.
“Hold me,” she whispered—no, more like pleaded—into his lips.
Kuukai’s arms wrapped around her of their own free will, hugging her close.
She sighed, a soft profoundly sad sound. Then, softly, she broke the kiss and
rested her forehead on his chest.
He loosened his grip on her, but she didn’t move away from him. “Utau?” he
whispered.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking.
Kuukai swallowed, glancing around at the deserted arcade. “Are you alright?”
She pulled away. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m just dandy.” Then, she scooped up the
fallen quarter, turned on her heel, and walked away. She plugged the quarter
into a two-player racing game, sat down, and waited for Kuukai. He scrambled to
her side, sliding into the other driver’s chair, but Utau didn’t even look at
him.
Her cheeks shone and she lost the game. He had a feeling she had let him win as
some kind of payment.
When the game ended, proclaiming Kuukai the winner, Utau got to her feet. Her
small hands gripped her shoulders, hugging herself tightly, and she whispered,
“I should be getting home soon.”
Kuukai nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”
Outside the brightly lit arcade, the night seemed unreasonably cold and
vicious. The clouds had blocked out the moon, casting the world in deep dark
shadows. Despite his warm sweatshirt, Kuukai shivered. Utau though seemed
untouched by the cold. Maybe whatever dark secret lurking inside her mind and
body was colder than anything the night could throw at her.
Utau swung herself onto the motorbike behind Kuukai, gripping him lightly, and
he kick-started the bike. Then, he motored away from the arcade, bringing Utau
home.
                                     X X X
This will probably be a three-parter.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Utau: Pt III *****
My cat is still missing… so I’m not sure how life is going to continue to go
for me.
I just saw Rise of the Guardians, too, and Jack Frost is a major hottie. I have
never seen such a sexy character. (I think he even takes the cake from Ikuto so
expect a short one-shot about him from me eventually. Maybe that will help me
get back into writing also. I just haven’t felt like it since my cat went
missing, probably because she always sits on my lap when I write…)
On a slightly better note… Merry Christmas, everyone and you should all believe
in Jack Frost.
                                     X X X
It was late, but Nadeshiko just couldn’t get comfortable in her bed. Finally,
she gave up and swung her legs out from beneath the covers. Shrugging into a
Chinese silk robe embroidered with cherry blossoms, she made her way
downstairs, being careful not to disturb anyone else who had managed to fall
asleep tonight. She went to the kitchen and heated herself up a small glass of
milk, hoping it would help lull her to sleep, but even after drinking it, she
just didn’t feel tired. Sighing heavily, she made her way into the living room.
The low bluish glow of the television surprised her and it took her eyes a
moment to pick out the shape of her twin seated there on the couch. Nagihiko
couldn’t sleep either and he as sitting up eating goldfish and watching late-
night infomercials.
“Thinking about buying a Kitchen Ninja Set?” Nadeshiko asked her twin.
He glanced at her, his dark eyes gleaming. “Not really,” he said. “You can’t
sleep either?”
She shook her head and came to sit beside him on the couch. “No…”
“Thinking about Ikuto?” Nagihiko asked her.
She nodded, wrapping her arms around her legs. “Yeah. I’m just… I’m so worried.
It’s been so long since we’ve seen him and Tsukasa hasn’t seen him either… I
just… I wonder what could have happened to him,” she whispered.
Nagihiko nodded, turning down the volume on Billy Mays. “I think sometimes were
forget just how dangerous our world is. Every single day, people die or they go
missing. Children are abused and hurt and runaway. Drug trafficking isn’t
slowing down at all despite all the precautions we have. Sex slavery and child
porn still exist right under the surface—”
“I don’t want to think about it,” Nadeshiko interrupted him softly. “I wish I
didn’t know it all existed…”
Nagihiko wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close to his side.
“I know, but it does… I think it’s worse to just turn a blind eye.”
Nadeshiko nodded. “Why don’t we turn on the news for a little while? That
always makes me sleepy.”
“Me too,” Nagihiko agreed. He found the remote and changed the channel.
The late-night news anchor was talking in a dull voice as if he was aware that
only insomniacs were watching this late at night. “In other news, an Amber
Alert has been issued for Hinamori Ami. Her parents noticed she was gone from
her bedroom when her mother got up to check on her at midnight. The window was
left open. Anyone with information is asked to call this number. Thank you.”
“Hinamori Ami?” Nadeshiko murmured.
“That girl Ikuto had us take care of, wasn’t that her name?” Nagihiko asked his
sister.
Nadeshiko shook her head. “Amu,” she said. “Her name was Amu.”
“It’s probably just a typo,” Nagihiko said. “You don’t think something could
have happened to her too, do you?”
Nadeshiko was about to respond when the name ‘Hoshina Kazuomi’ attracted her
attention back to the television. “That’s Ikuto’s step-father!” she said. “What
happened?”
Nagihiko turned up the volume.
“The police are seeking Hoshina Kazuomi for questioning in the disappearance of
his step-son, Hoshina Ikuto. He is considered dangerous and it is not safe to
approach him. Please contact the police. Anyone with information on his
whereabouts is encouraged to call this hotline. Sources will be kept
confidential.”
The twins shared a quick glanced, hearts pounding.
“Ikuto,” Nagihiko whispered.
“Utau,” Nadeshiko murmured.
Then, without even bothering to turn off the television, they both bolted up
from the couch and raced to the phone. Nadeshiko called Utau’s house phone and
then her cell, but didn’t get an answer on either. She left short messages,
pleading with Utau to call them and not to go home.
Then, she had a sudden bad thought. “Nagi, what if she’s already home?”
“I’m sure the police checked there first for Kazuomi,” he said. “I’m sure they
took her into protective custody if she was there.”
Nadeshiko bit her lip, her fingers worrying the phone. Nagihiko stood beside
her, his toes growing cold on the tile floor of the kitchen. Their eyes met,
concern being shared. The police weren’t exactly the best at dealing with
things like this. They were only human. Mistakes and errors in judgment were
made. The legal system failed to protect children time and time again, such as
giving children back to parents that are out on bail for child abuse. (1)
Moments later, the twins’ parents were awakened by the sound of the garage door
opening and the Jetta’s engine catching as it roared out of the garage. When
they came downstairs in a great hurry, the television was still on, but their
children were gone.
…
(Utau hadn’t heard her cell phone ringing when Nadeshiko called to warn her
because she was seated on the backseat of Kuukai’s noisy motorbike.) Now,
Kuukai dropped Utau off at her front door, both unaware of what waiting on the
other side of the door for Utau. The lights inside the great mansion were
blazing, the television was blaring loudly inside, and it was clear that Utau’s
step-father was home. She shuddered as she dismounted the motorbike and stared
at the front door.
She turned, glancing at her window on the second story. Kazuomi had already
probably figured out that she hadn’t been home and was waiting up just to yell
at her. There wasn’t really a way to avoid it even if she did go through the
trouble to climb back up through the window.
Kuukai studied her face. “Will you be alright?” he asked.
She forced a smile. “Sure. Home is a…” she hesitated for a quick moment, her
eyes darting. “It’s a safe place,” she said finally, her voice strained.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he quickly scribbled his phone number into the
palm of her hand. “If you need anything, anything at all,” he murmured. “I’ll
come pick you up at three in the morning in a dense fog.”
Utau closed her fingers over the numbers. “I don’t doubt that,” she said.
He smiled at her sadly, wishing she would confide in him.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she whispered, “Goodbye and thank you. Please, leave quickly. I’m sure
my step-father is going to yell at me and I don’t want you to have to hear
that.” Then, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and turned away. “I had a
nice night,” she whispered. Kuukai didn’t have a chance to respond before she
had disappeared inside and closed the door in his face.
“Goodnight,” he murmured. Then, he turned with his motorbike and began pushing
it back down her driveway. At the bottom, he kick-started his motor and roared
off into the night, leaving the beautiful girl at his back. If he had known he
had just dropped an innocent kitten into a nest of vipers, he would have done
something different.
…
“I’m home, father,” Utau called once she stepped inside the house and closed
the door behind her. For a moment, she leaned against it, listening, tasting
the air like an animal. Though the air outside in the night had been ice-cold
compared to the warmth of her house, goose bumps rose on her flesh. “Kazuomi?”
she called tentatively, stepping away from the door.
She heard a soft cry, like a small animal’s, come from the living room. Her
first thought was of Ikuto. Was he finally home though Kazuomi continued to
hurt him by the sound of it?
Heart in her throat, she bolted into the living room, her fingers latching onto
the threshold as she tore around the door. The television was alive with bright
images, silhouetting Kazuomi’s dark figure where he was seated on the couch.
Utau stared at the screen for a moment, unable to look away, stricken by what
she saw there.
“It’s the highlight reel,” Kazuomi said suddenly.
Utau slid to her knees, her heart shattering in her chest. “No,” she whispered.
Suddenly, it was painfully obvious what had happened to Ikuto in the time he
had been gone—pornography. There was his poor naked body, spread across the
screen with nothing secret left. He was trussed up like a Christmas goose,
dressed in elaborate sexual costumes, being pinned and torn, violated and raped
time and again. His face was horrible, flushed with shame and pain, his blue
eyes gleaming as if he was sick with fever or about to cry. And the men—the
horrible men—it didn’t seem possible that they could even make their way inside
his frail body, but they had forced their way inside. They were rutting like
animals, grunting like hogs, destroying him where he lay beneath them.
Utau sobbed, nausea rolling in her stomach.
Kazuomi thumbed down the volume, turning to face her. A sick hideous grin
spread across his face.
She choked back bile, unable to breathe. Suddenly, her heart was hammering. She
tried to get to her feet, but her legs trembled like jelly. Her entire body
felt weak and cold.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kazuomi asked her.
She fought back in the only way she could—with words. “You’re a sick bastard,”
she hissed, but her ferocity was betrayed by her thin limbs trembling.
Kazuomi grinned wider. “Sticks and stones, love.”
She pressed a hand over her mouth, tearing her eyes from the television screen.
“And here’s the best part,” Kazuomi continued, rising from the couch with fluid
grace. “Your gallant and oh-so-wonderfully protective older brother went and
ran away from the studio with four days left of his contract.”
Utau’s heart skipped and stuttered in her chest. Her head began to lift of its
own accord, her teeth started to chatter, and her throat closed over. Somehow,
she knew what he was going to say before he even finished speaking those
hateful words.
“Guess who’s going to take his place, Utau?” Kazuomi snarled.
She looked into his face for one brief moment before the blow came, suddenly
and swiftly. She didn’t have a chance to escape and barely a split-second to
scream.
…
Kuukai reached the end of Utau’s paved driveway and swung his leg over his
motorbike. With one quick and sad glance over his shoulder at the beautiful
villa where the beautiful idol lived, he sighed and kick-started his bike. As a
result, his clanking and sputtering engine was grinding its way to life just as
Utau’s scream split the night. He didn’t hear it.
He rode noisily away from her house, soaking up the night air, his heart
beating painfully in his chest. He wanted to turn around, to spirit her away to
a beautiful world like princes did to fair princesses in story books, but real
life wasn’t nearly so easy. He sighed heavily, watching the play of his shadow
across the sidewalk.
Suddenly, appearing out of the darkness like a ghost, a pale silver Jetta went
screaming past his little motorbike faster than an unmarked police cruiser with
a Kojak light. For a split second, Kuukai recognized the faces illuminated by
the splash of moonlight beyond the windshield. It was those twins, Nadeshiko ad
Nagihiko. They were weird people… Nadeshiko was a beautiful dancer and Nagihiko
was a magnificent sportsman and sometimes, just to aggravate their coaches and
teammates, they switched places with each other. And Kuukai would be damned to
admit that no one could tell them apart.
He shook his head and said to himself, “What on earth are they doing out at
this hour of the night?” But since he could have asked himself the same
question, he didn’t bother to answer.
Then, a moment later, he heard Utau’s second scream.
                                     X X X
(1) You’d be amazed how often that actually happens. “Oh, you’re going to stand
trial for abusing your kids? Well, until then, you just keep taking care of
them.” Hello, people!
Questions, comments, concerns?
Well, please review…
***** Utau: Pt IV *****
HAPPY NEW YEAR, everyone! (And I have a horrible cold… and still haven’t found
my cat.)
This was originally part of the last chapter, but it got too long on me.
                                     X X X
Blind terror consumed Utau. Her head was spinning from his blow, her mouth
flooded with blood, eyes stinging. Her heart was beating so loud and so hard
she thought it might batter its way out of her chest. After the blow, reeling,
she somehow got to her feet and ran. Kazuomi pounded after her, his pace
measured, and he was laughing. Sick bastard. He was enjoying this—enjoying the
scent of her fear and her blind panic, enjoying the thought of what was to
come.
Utau heard a little animal sound, someone’s weak voice whispering, “No, no,
no,” over and over again. She didn’t realize that voice was hers.
She threw open her bedroom door, realizing a second too late that it wasn’t her
room when the door shuddered on its hinges. She was in Ikuto’s room, her mind
blindly seeking the protection her brother always offered her. But Ikuto wasn’t
here—there was no one to help her, no one to save her. She whirled, hoping
there was enough time for her to flee to another room. There wasn’t. Kazuomi
loomed in the doorway, grinning, his teeth shining.
Her back hit the wall, palms scraping along it for purchase. She heard herself
scream again. “No! Please, no!”
All she could think about was the time he had forcibly kissed her, pressed his
mouth to hers and consumed her lips. Then, Ikuto had saved her and stopped
Kazuomi before anything worse could happen. But now… there was no one to save
her and Utau’s mind was filled with the terrible memories of that single forced
kiss. She remembered how dirty she felt, as if her own body as less than a
prison. What would it feel like when he took her, raped and violated her like
he did Ikuto? Would she break?
She screamed again, her small hands lifting as if that alone would keep him
away.
Kazuomi laughed, his fingers closing over her wrist, and he yanked her body
flush against his chest. Utau struggled, but he was too big, too strong. She
couldn’t get away. Her mouth opened to scream again, but his lips pressed over
hers, swallowing the sounds. Stunned, sickened, she froze.
Kazuomi kissed her thoroughly and then pulled away to taunt her. “I was going
to let them take your virginity on camera, but now I’m thinking… I want to take
it myself.”
When he dipped his head to kiss her again, she bit him. Her teeth clenched
through his lips and tongue, tearing, and her mouth flooded with his blood. He
howled in pain and tried to shove her off, but Utau was too terrified. Like a
pit bull, she just hung on, teeth digging deeper and deeper, severing bits of
his tongue and lips.
His knee came up, hard and sudden, into her stomach. The breath exploded from
her lungs and the force sent her exploding backwards. Her head knocked into the
frame of Ikuto’s ruined bed and little spots danced before her eyes, blinding
her.
Kazuomi howled, letting out the pain, and lifted a hand to his mouth. He groped
at his damaged lips, his eyes widening as he felt all the missing flesh. Almost
absently, Utau spat out the blood and flesh that remained in her mouth. It
splattered across the floor.
“You little bitch!” Kazuomi snarled, his words garbled by his torn lips.
Utau looked up at him, her eyes swimming in and out of focus.
His fingers fisted in the front of her t-shirt and dragged her to her feet. He
tore the fabric, exposing her chest and shoulders. She lifted her hands
sluggishly to protect herself, but he grabbed her wrists and twisted them
painfully behind her back. A choked scream escaped her, her vision clearing
slightly from the pain. He ripped her bra, the elastic snapping at her pale
skin. Then, he palmed her small breasts, catching her nipple between his
fingers. She screamed, struggling, as he pinched and rolled it cruelly.
“Stop!” she begged him, but he didn’t even hear her.
He unfastened her jeans, yanking them down her legs along with her thin cotton
panties. The twisted jeans caught on her shoes, effectively binding her ankles,
and Utau stumbled to her knees. Kazuomi yanked her back to her feet and tossed
her on Ikuto’s ruined bed. Then, he moved to free himself. Blood dripped freely
from his mouth to his chest, splattering. Utau tried to get to her feet, tried
to cover herself, tried to… anything! But her head was reeling still and the
terror made her blind.
“Ikuto!” she screamed. “Please, help me!”
…
The silver Jetta screeched to a stop in front of the Hoshina mansion. Inside,
all the lights were burning brightly. There were sounds of shouting and
screaming, the crash of a struggle. Nadeshiko was out of the car before
Nagihiko even put it in park. Seconds behind her, her twin followed.
Nadeshiko grabbed the knob and wrenched the door open. She had expected it to
be locked and stumbled when it gave so easily. Her silken robe slipped open,
but she was wearing pajamas underneath and didn’t care. “Utau!” she shouted.
“Utau!”
Nagihiko had gotten a tire iron from the trunk of their car and now joined his
sister. He tested it in his hands. Nadeshiko glanced at him, making sure he was
still with her. He gave a quick nod and together they hurried up the stairs
where they could hear the sounds of a struggle.
…
Kuukai’s motorbike reached the end of the driveway, but rather than walk it up
as he had before, he roared up. The twin’s silver Jetta was crookedly parked,
the trunk hanging open. The front door of the mansion was open as well, a beam
of amber light spraying into the night. Inside, he heard Utau scream for help.
He hastily dropped his motorbike and raced into the house without a second
thought.
…
Kazuomi pinned Utau’s wrists behind her back and pushed her face down into the
mattress where he had taken Ikuto so many times before. Trapped, everything
Ikuto had wished to protect was exposed. Utau whimpered, tears leaking between
her clenched lids. Something hot and moist touched her ass, stroking, moving
closer to her core. She knew Kazuomi was savoring this moment—the moment he
truly took everything from his step-children.
“Stop,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the mattress.
He touched her, really touched her, and she shuddered. The cold air kissed her
as he spread her open.
Then, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “This will be payment for biting
me.” Then, his hot sick mouth closed over the junction between her neck and
shoulder and he bit down, grinding his teeth into her flesh. She tried to
scream, but the mattress stifled her cries. Blood dripped down the side of her
face from the wound. Kazuomi continued to bite, deeper and deeper, sucking the
wound painfully, until she trembled uncontrollably from the pain.
“Stop,” she whimpered. “Please… stop…”
His hand cupped her sex, thumb resting on her anus and fingers just at her
entrance. “Should I take both your virginities with my fingers, Utau?”
“Please, don’t do this,” she whispered.
The tip of his finger entered her. “Oh, I can feel your hymen. Would you like
me to kiss it goodbye?”
“No,” she sobbed. “Stop it…”
His mouth moved from the shell of her ear down her back, nipping and sucking
her skin painfully. She squirmed against his grip, but couldn’t get away. His
hot breath touched her core, fingers spreading her open wider to provide better
access. “Hello, Utau’s cute little hymen,” he purred.
“Please, don’t do this… please…”
“Goodbye,” he said. Then, he pushed his tongue inside her.
There was a blast of white-hot pain and, for a moment, Utau couldn’t remember
anything.
…
Ikuto’s bedroom door was still hanging open on ruined hinges, light slanting
out from it into the otherwise dark hallway. It was easy for Nadeshiko and
Nagihiko to find Utau and Kazuomi. They pressed themselves on either side of
the door, listening, trying to gauge the situation. If Kazuomi was armed, just
barging in could get everyone killed.
Utau was begging.
Kazuomi was threatening her.
Nadeshiko met her twin’s eyes and he nodded one swift time. They moved
together, just like they had seen in movies, shouting. Utau was bent over
Ikuto’s bed, her feet on the floor, her legs spread as far as her jeans would
allow, her ass in the air. Kazuomi was kneeling behind her, his hands holding
her wrists behind her back. His mouth was pressed to her core.
“Stop it, asshole!” Nagihiko shouted.
“Let her go!” Nadeshiko screamed.
Kazuomi stood, his full height towering over the children. Suddenly, it was
obvious that they had bitten off more than they could chew. They should have
called the police. They should have asked for help, but they didn’t. Nadeshiko
took a desperate step back. Nagihiko stepped in front of her, brandishing the
tire iron like it was a gift from god.
“What’s this? More little birdies for my cage?” Kazuomi snarled.
“D-don’t come any closer!” Nagihiko threatened. “I’ll hit you!”
He tipped his head back and laughed uproariously.
Utau slid to her knees beside the bed, not even bothering to cover herself.
“Don’t…” she whispered. “Don’t… hurt them…”
Kazuomi stopped laughing, his eyes black and beady like those of a predator. In
one swift move, he grabbed the tire iron from Nagihiko’s hands and took a step
towards the twins. They backed away, Nagihiko doing what he could to protect
his sister. Kazuomi could have laughed again. What was it with brothers always
trying to protect their sisters?
“S-stay back,” Nagihiko shouted.
…
Kuukai was just around the bend in the upstairs hallway when he heard the twins
shout for Kazuomi to stop, to let Utau go. He hung back, waiting to see what
would happen, listening. Soon, it became apparent that they were all in way
over their heads. After all, they were only children.
He decided the best course of action and scuttled back downstairs. Quickly, he
found a phone and dialed 911. Trying to be as calm as possible, he told them
the address and what had happened. He warned them that it was dangerous and
that Utau was probably hurt. Though they advised him to get out and wait in a
safe place for the police, he couldn’t.
Upstairs, he heard a crash and loud laughter. If he waited, someone could die.
Gently, he laid the phone down, leaving it connected to the dispatcher. He
could hear her voice as he walked away, telling him to stay put, to wait for
help. Silently, Kuukai made his way back upstairs and saw that Nagihiko was
slumped in a heap in the middle of the hallway. Nadeshiko had her back against
the wall, cowering, tears rolling down her face. Kazuomi was looming over the
twins, holding a tire iron in his hands. Kuukai didn’t see Utau.
He cleared his throat.
Kazuomi’s head snapped in his direction, mouth breaking into a broad grin.
“More birdies?”
“I’ve called the police,” Kuukai said calmly and firmly. “They’re on their
way.”
Kazuomi’s eyes narrowed. “Liar,” he snarled and moved with the tire iron to
strike Kuukai.
Kuukai took a step back, careful, cautious. “Maybe,” he said. “But can you
afford to take that chance. If I were a criminal like you, I’d leave now.”
Kazuomi glanced out the window. In the distance, Kuukai imagined he could hear
the whine of police sirens, but maybe it wasn’t all in his imagination because
Kazuomi let out a loud curse. He shoved Kuukai aside, rushed down the stairs,
and was gone. A moment later, Kuukai saw his Mercedes go screaming off into the
night.
“K-Kuukai,” Nadeshiko whispered.
He moved quickly to her side. “Where’s Utau?”
She gestured uselessly forward, towards the room with the ruined door. Inside,
half naked, Utau was lying slumped on the floor. She wasn’t crying. She was
just lying there, her violet eyes wide open, staring straight forward at
nothing.
“Give me your robe, Nadeshiko,” Kuukai said.
With shaking hands, she peeled it off and handed it to him. Then, she gently
touched Nagihiko’s face, whimpering. “Nagi, Nagi,” she whispered, pulling some
dark hair away from the gash in his temple.
Kuukai took the Chinese silk robe and covered Utau’s nudity as best he could
with it.
Her eyes shifted slightly, swimming in and out of focus. “Ikuto?” she
whispered.
“No, it’s Kuukai,” he told her. “Do you remember?”
“Kuukai,” she whispered. Then, she closed her eyes and Kuukai would have
panicked if not for the slow rise and fall of her chest that made it clear she
was still alive. She was probably only in shock and why shouldn’t she be?
In the hallway, Nadeshiko sobbed quietly, cradling her twin’s head. Nagihiko
winced in his unconsciousness, blood making a slow path down the side of his
face. Silently, Kuukai sat beside Utau and waited for the police to arrive. In
the distance, he truly did hear the whine of sirens. Help was on the way, but
he didn’t know if it was already too late.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review.
***** Aftershock at the Hospital *****
I kind of got myself trapped in a transition. Oops, but I gave you a little
fluffy treat to make up for it.
                                     X X X
“Ikuto, where is Utau?”
Once Tsukasa spoke those four fragile words, Ikuto reacted in an instant. For
the first time in nearly three hours, he released Amu’s hand. Grabbing the
railing of the hospital bed, he threw off the covers and put his bare feet on
the floor. Tsukasa moved to stop him, but he didn’t need to. The painkillers
had numbed Ikuto’s lower body completely. Now, his legs folded beneath him like
paper and he crashed to the cold floor.
“Ikuto!” Amu gasped, quickly moving to his side.
Tsukasa was only a moment behind her. Together, with Tsukasa lifting Ikuto’s
light body, they got the seventeen-year-old back onto the hospital bed, but
Ikuto was not about to stay there. Wildly, uncaring that he would only fall
again, he tried to get up, tried to go to the door, tried to go to his sister.
“Ikuto, stop,” Tsukasa said firmly. “There’s nothing you can do except tell me
where she is… if you know.”
Ikuto’s bruised and chapped mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound
came out. After a moment, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Our house?”
“The police checked there first and no one was home,” Tsukasa assured Ikuto.
“Does she have any friends? Would she go to their houses for the night?
Anything you know would be helpful.”
Ikuto shook his head weakly. “No. She would have stayed home. She would be…
waiting… waiting for me to come home…”
Tsukasa glanced back over his shoulder at the single uniformed officer and
shook his head. He was about to turn back to Ikuto when he heard the police
radio begin squawking. Everyone heard the dispatcher give the address of the
Hoshina house. Ikuto tried to get up again, but Tsukasa was faster.
“No, Ikuto,” he said firmly. “Let the police do their jobs.”
Ikuto snarled at Tsukasa, clawing his hands a way. “The same way they did their
jobs and found out what really happened to my mother!” he shouted. “The police
aren’t good for anything. They never help you when you really need it. They
won’t save Utau! Kazuomi will bribe them off, just like he always does!”
Tsukasa’s eyes widened. “Ikuto!”
“You know it, Tsukasa,” Ikuto snarled. “You know it! You know they’re not going
to help us! The only way Utau and I will ever be safe is if someone kills that
bastard! It’s the only way!” He moved to get up again and, as he had once
before, his desperation to protect his sister lent him strength his fragile
body should not have possessed. He shoved Tsukasa off and threw himself from
the bed.
Orderlies rushed into the room, calling to each other. Swiftly, they got him
back into his bed. Then, a needle went into the IV at his wrist and a mild
sedative forced his body to go limp and useless. He slumped back against the
pillows, accusing eyes roaming the room before they drooped closed. Silence
stretched thickly.
“He’s right, you know,” Amu whispered softly. “They never do help you… No one
listens to kids.”
“I do,” Tsukasa tried to tell her.
But Amu’s golden eyes went right into his soul and he suddenly felt as if he
had lied to her face. Tsukasa felt abruptly sick at heart. He hadn’t known for
sure, but he knew something was wrong with Ikuto and Utau’s home life. Who knew
how differently things would have turned out if Tsukasa had merely told the
police his suspicions, but he hadn’t told them. He had sat on his hands and
waited, waited until he had had no choice but to act. He was just as they said
the police were.
…
After Tsukasa left the room, towing Tadase along with him, Amu stayed behind.
She came to sit on the edge of Ikuto’s bed, gently brushing his dark hair out
of his eyes. He looked very much like a child in sleep, his pale face smooth,
but it didn’t remain that way for long. Soon, he began to whimper softly, his
brow wrinkling and his mouth curling into a frown. Amu tried to wake him from
the nightmares, but she couldn’t. Instead, she sat there, gently touching him,
and waited for the sedative to wear off.
With a strangled sound, Ikuto fought his way from sleep. He lurched up in the
bed, catching hold of her wrist painfully, and sat there, gasping for breath.
His eyes were glazed, unseeing and sunken deep into his head like those of a
corpse. He bit the corner of his mouth, drawing blood from a wound there.
Amu whimpered as his nails raked into her and gently tried to pull away.
“Ikuto,” she whispered. “That hurts.”
He turned to her and his eyes came back into focus, reflecting her within them.
“Amu?” he murmured.
She nodded.
Sharply, he released her wrist. “Sorry,” he said.
“It’s alright,” she told him gently. “What were you dreaming about, Ikuto?”
He wiped the blood from his lips. “Nothing,” he said.
Amu sat beside him, silent. The truth of the matter was, she knew Ikuto wanted
to talk to her about what had happened to him. Everyone wanted to let their
secrets out, but people like them didn’t trust anyone enough to actually speak
them out loud. She waited, waited for him to find the courage. It took less
time than she had expected.
“It was… what my step-father did to me…” Ikuto confessed, wrapping his arms
around his body. “Are you a virgin, Amu?”
She nodded slowly.
“You’re lucky,” he whispered. “I wish I was, but I don’t… have anything left in
my body… I gave everything up to protect Utau.”
Amu reached out, but did not touch him. For a long moment, Ikuto only looked at
her offered hand, unwilling to reach out to her. Finally, he sighed heavily and
threaded his fingers through hers. He ran his thumb over her knuckles, sending
a shiver of pleasure through Amu’s body.
“You have… no idea what something like this means to me,” he confessed softly.
“I hardly ever feel a gentle touch. After he takes me, Utau always wants to
comfort me but I… I don’t want her to touch me. I don’t want her too…”
Amu stared at their hands. She knew how Ikuto felt. She could count on one hand
the number of times she had felt a kind touch since her sister’s death all
those years ago. Her parents had forbidden hugs and kisses, reminded of Ami.
Instead, they hit Amu until her flesh bruised and tore. She swallowed thickly,
wanting to tell him that she understood, but was unable to find the words.
Ikuto sighed, tracing the veins in her wrist with his fingertip. His own wrists
were ringed with dark bruises.
Silence spread between them, comfortable but tinged with pain.
“So, Amu,” Ikuto said after a long time, “what’s with the blonde hair?” He
reached out, gently twisted a pale strand around his finger.
She almost confessed the truth to him, as he had to her, but the words stuck in
her throat. If he knew the truth about her family, he would try to help her as
he had sacrificed everything for his sister and Amu didn’t want to cause this
poor beautiful boy any more pain. So, instead she told him, “I just wanted a
change.”
He smiled thinly. “Don’t we all?”
Then, a drop of blood rolled from the corner of his mouth, tracking down his
chin and jaw. Without thinking, Amu reached out and wiped it away with her
thumb gently. He flinched, but did not pull away. Her eyes met Ikuto’s and she
froze. Fear tinged his gaze, but also tender gratitude and hope and relief and
so many other soft emotions that Amu choked. He stared into her, their fingers
still intertwined, and for a moment she thought he might reach out to touch her
face.
But the moment passed without anything happening further. Ikuto’s eyes slid
away and Amu reached for a tissue to wipe his blood off her fingers.
…
After the police and paramedics arrived at the Hoshina mansion, Kuukai told
them everything he knew. Nadeshiko talked to them quickly as well while they
loaded her twin brother and Utau into the ambulance and did a swift but
thorough search of the house for Kazuomi. Unable to find him, ambulance with
Utau and Nagihiko headed off to the hospital, lights on but sirens silent.
Kuukai stuffed his motorbike into the trunk of Nadeshiko’s Jetta and the two of
them followed behind the ambulance. Once at the hospital, the hustle and bustle
of people trying to help overwhelmed them.
It was several hours before Kuukai learned that Utau’s brother was in the
hospital as well.
Yards of metaphoric red tape spanned the aftermath. Authorities came and went
faster than bandages were changed in the Emergency Room. Nagihiko and
Nadeshiko’s parents were called. Kuukai’s five brothers were called also. All
these adults and guardians filled the waiting room to the brim as Nagihiko had
the gash in his scalp treated. The police took turns passing between the three
children, taking their statements. Then, they talked to the parents and
guardians, asking more questions.
It was several hours before anyone realized what had even happened.
They heard about the Amber Alert for “Hinamori Ami” and went off to talk to
Tsukasa. They talked to Amu, trying to decide if it was a true typo or if they
had found the wrong missing child. But Amu’s duffel bag painted a clear
picture—runaway—and they called her parents before she could even think about
explaining what was really going on. Or maybe she did think about it and
decided not to. After all, adults were never very good at listening to
children.
Several hours passed and soon, the sun was breaking over the horizon.
The night was over.
…
As everyone began to head out, exhausted by the night’s events, Tadase glimpsed
Amu leaving with her parents. He had expected her to look happy to be back
within the safety of her home and family. He knew he would be overjoyed to see
his own parents, but Amu’s golden eyes were sparkling with tears and her lower
lip quivered. Her parents looked strange as well, but Tadase couldn’t place the
expression. It looked almost like… they were seeing something else entirely.
“Uncle Tsukasa,” Tadase murmured, pulling at his uncle’s sleeve. “Look…”
Amu heard his voice and turned, her lips parting to speak. But her mother put
her hand at the small of Amu’s back and guided her forward and her father
shouldered Amu’s loaded duffel bag. Then, the automatic doors swung closed
behind the small family.
By the time Tsukasa pried himself away from one plainclothes officer, Amu and
her parents were already gone.
“What is it, Tadase?” Tsukasa asked.
Tadase’s heart pounded, stuttering in his chest. Why did he feel like something
terrible had just happened? Then, all at once he was lying in his bed again,
looking into the baby sitter’s pale face as she told him to get up in a tear-
filled voice.
“Um, nothing… I’ll ask Amu about it in school on Monday.”
Tsukasa petted the top of Tadase’s head, hugging the boy to his side tightly as
he finished answering the last of the policeman’s questions. He had done what
he could for these children. Hopefully, things would begin to look up for them
now.
…
Utau and Ikuto were reunited just as the sun crested over the trees outside the
hospital.
(Though the orderlies would not allow Ikuto to get to his feet, Utau wasn’t
really hurt and they decided it was just easier not to stop the two teens. They
had been keeping them apart for the better part of the night and it was more
trouble than it was worth.)
Utau, dressed in a paper hospital gown but still swathed in Nadeshiko’s silk
robe, allowed herself to be wheeled into Ikuto’s room. He looked so horrible,
so damaged—all his pale exposed skin was bruised and scraped and as painfully
thin as wet paper, his hair lank and greasy, his lips chapped and bloody, his
eyes like closed iron gates—that Utau had a sudden fear that he wouldn’t allow
her to touch him, to take the comfort she so desperately needed from him.
But she didn’t need to worry.
His eyes brightened with relief and love for her, positively glowing in his
pale skeleton face. Immediately, her brother opened his arms and she couldn’t
get to his side fast enough. She threw her arms around him, clinging to his
thin body. His bones pressed painfully into her and he stank of blood and
sweat, but she wouldn’t have let go of him for the world. He held her close,
his fingers tangling in her long loose hair, and he whispered her name like a
mantra.
“Ikuto,” Utau sobbed.
“I’m so sorry,” he interrupted. “I’m so sorry!”
She cried harder, hating this. How was it that Kazuomi was the one to hurt her
and yet Ikuto apologized?
“I didn’t protect you,” Ikuto whispered into her neck, stroking her back.
She quivered beneath his fingers. “Ikuto, it’s not your fault,” Utau protested.
“I should have been there,” he whispered.
It took more strength than Utau ever thought she possessed to push him away and
grasp his face firmly. “Ikuto, listen to me,” Utau told him firmly. “It was not
your fault.”
He bit his lower lip, his sapphire eyes welling with tears. “But…”
“It wasn’t,” Utau whispered and gently lay her fingers against the bruise at
his mouth. “It never was.”
Ikuto didn’t protest further. Instead, he reached out and wrapped his arms
around her thin body again. This time, Utau didn’t push him away. Even if she
had to, she didn’t think she would have been able to muster the strength to
separate from him.
Though they must have been together for several hours, it felt like mere
minutes before one of the nurses were bringing in breakfast and forcing them to
release each other to eat. Ikuto ate as if he hadn’t in weeks and maybe he
hadn’t, but Utau wasn’t able to manage more than a few bites. Her stomach
knotted as she gazed at her brother’s beaten body, as the bruised curve of his
wrist as he lifted his fork. Suddenly, the fact that Kazuomi had just touched
her didn’t seem bad at all. Ikuto suffered far worse than she ever did.
                                     X X X
So expect a small time skip in the next chapter as we sort some final strings
out of this section and get into the closing arc. I hope to have this polished
off by seventy chapters. And then I can overdose on “Rise of the Guardians”
fanfiction. (So many ideas…)
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Amu Returns Home to Hell *****
I was watching CSI today (the old seasons with epic Grissom, the episode “No
Humans Involved” about child abuse) and one of Sarah’s lines at the end really
hit me hard. She was talking about whether they should take the mother to the
morgue to identify her dead child first or to the hospital to see the ones that
survived. She said, “Go with the living. The dead can wait…” Wouldn’t it be
nice if Amu’s parents knew that?
Anyway… on with the show.
                                     X X X
Tsukasa drove home in silence, Tadase sitting in the passenger seat as dawn
crested over the horizon. It felt very much like the silence that had spread
between them after Tsukasa had picked Tadase up from the police station after
his parents’ deaths. Unspoken words hung thick in the air like buzzing flies.
“Uncle Tsukasa,” Tadase began, but then they were pulling up in front of the
Planetarium and Mashiro Rima was sitting forlornly on the curb.
Tsukasa parked the car and turned to Tadase, waiting for the boy to finish what
he had begun to say, but Tadase shook his head. Rima was waiting, her big eyes
red-rimmed and her pale hair billowing in the early morning breeze. It could
wait… After all, he didn’t have much to tell his uncle—just that he thought
there might be something wrong with Amu.
Children are better at keeping secrets than adults give them credit for.
…
The once-white Hinamori house came into view and Amu’s knuckles whitened
further. It wasn’t such a pretty house anymore even though the lawn was freshly
cut and a few amber lights burned inside. She didn’t realize how tightly she
was clenching her hands until she felt a dull pain and realized her nails had
pricked through the flesh of her palms. In the front seat of the car, her
parents were holding hands in silence. The car hummed into the garage, shadows
enveloping the vehicle, and the door slide closed at its back.
“Mom?” Amu whispered when the silence became too much. “Dad?”
“Ami,” Midori began. “I think you know you’ve done a very bad thing… You
worried Mommy and Daddy so much, isn’t that right, honey?”
Tsumugu’s voice was hard and sharp as a razor. “And you spent the entire night
with that filthy boy. We don’t want you to wind up like your worthless whore of
a sister, Ami.”
“We’re just trying to protect you, darling,” Midori said with a sweetness that
was like sugar-coating a lethal injection.
“Who knows what you thought about doing with that disgusting boy,” Tsumugu
snarled out. “You’ll need to be punished.”
“Punished,” Midori repeated, tasting the word.
Amu’s blood ran cold, a single thought shooting through her skull harder and
faster than any bullet. No…! The basement… Her hand moved separate of the rest
of her body, fingers sliding around the door handle even before her mind
realized that she intended to run again.
“We should have her checked for diseases,” Midori said to Tsumugu, “just to be
certain.”
Amu wrenched the door open, practically slamming it into the wall of the
garage, and flew from the car. She raced out of the garage, her breath coming
in weak little animalistic pants. Her heart was pounding so hard that it
sounded like footsteps.
Or maybe those were Tsumugu’s steps because Amu didn’t get far before he had
grabbed her by her arm and was spinning her around to face him. She screamed,
loud and shrilly, her heart in her throat. The sound echoed in the silence of
the early morning, but it didn’t bring anyone running from their houses to
help. Tsumugu shook Amu viciously, her teeth snapping together.
Midori had gathered Amu’s duffel bag and her own purse. She was walking up the
small short path to the house as if she didn’t see what was happening right in
front of her. At the door, she paused, key in hand, to call, “Ami, Tsumugu,
darlings, let’s go.”
“Thought you’d go running back to your little boyfriend, did you?” Tsumugu
hissed.
“Daddy,” Amu whimpered out, “please… no…”
He dug his fingers further into her arm, yanking her forward towards the house.
“No more arguing, Ami,” he said coldly. “You’ll be punished for what you’ve
done. You scared your mother and me to death.”
Amu dug in her heels, desperately trying to wrench away, but her father’s grip
was too strong. He dragged her into the house, still speaking but Amu couldn’t
understand what he was saying. Fear consumed her, blocking out everything else.
The front door yawned like a hungry mouth and the once-white fairytale house
devoured her.
Midori stood beside the cellar door, looking down into the darkness. “I
remember when we threw Amu down there and she broke her arm. It was so
disgusting with the bone sticking out and we had to waste all that time at the
hospital. Be gentler with Ami, darling,” she said to Tsumugu in her distant
little voice.
At the threshold, Amu caught the doorframe and latched onto it. “No, please!”
she begged her parents. “Please, don’t!”
“Now, Ami,” Tsumugu said firmly but benignly. “You’ve done something bad and
you deserve to be punished. You don’t want to turn out like Amu, do you?”
“But I am Amu!” the girl screamed, her nails raking the wooden frame and
breaking. “I’m Amu! Ami is dead! Please, don’t do this to me!”
Midori reeled back as if she had been physically struck, tears welling in her
eyes, and Tsumugu’s grip turned to iron. He twisted Amu’s body in his grip, her
arm screaming in painful protest as the bones beneath his fingers groaned and
twisted. Amu feared he might break her arm again.
“Daddy, you’re hurting me!” she begged. “Please, stop!”
Tsumugu slapped her, his hand like the blow of a hammer. Stunned, her grip on
the doorframe slackened enough for her father to shove her forward. A scream
ripped from her throat as she fell down the stairs again, her body cracking
into each step painfully. Amu curled within herself, protecting her torso and
head, sobbing and screaming in terror. With a bone-jarring thud, she landed at
the bottom of the steps and whimpered, looking up at the square of light in the
threshold where her parents stood.
“Ami is dead,” Midori whispered. “Amu is… left.”
“Little bitch,” Tsumugu snarled. “She tried to run away!”
“My Ami… dead and buried. Amu is…”
“That slut was with that boy all night! She ran away to be with him!”
“Little whore,” Midori whispered. “She needs to be punished.”
“She does!” Tsumugu hissed. “The little ungrateful bitch. I’ll—”
“Lock her up,” Midori said softly, her voice defeated and sad. “Just close the
door. I never want to see her face again. Leave her there to rot…”
And with that, Tsumugu slammed the door.
Crushing darkness swallowed Amu whole. She staggered to her feet and crawled up
the steps, just to test the door. If it was unlocked, she would run—no matter
what—but it was locked securely. She rattled the knob, but there was no escape.
The darkness pressed in and it was cool in the cellar.
This, Amu thought, is what death feels like.
She crawled carefully back down the steps and seated herself at the bottom,
looking up at the faint rim of light sneaking beneath the door. She drew her
legs to her chest, hugging them close and resting her chin on her knees. A
single tear slipped from her eye, trailing down her cheek. It was followed by
another, but Amu was too exhausted to cry in earnest. She wept silently,
sniffling in her own private hell, but she had nothing but time. Soon enough,
her tears dried and she sat in the silent all-encompassing darkness.
Suddenly, as if it had materialized there in that moment, she felt the weight
of the pocket knife she had stolen from her father’s dresser so long ago in her
pocket. It was digging into her hip and she quickly gripped it in her hands,
flipping open the tiny blade.
Once, she had taken it as protection from the strange and frightening Tsukiyomi
“I won’t answer to Hoshina” Ikuto, but now…
“If they come down,” Amu whispered to herself in the darkness. “When they come
down…”
And the blade gleamed in the faint light filtering down from above.
Somewhere in the darkness, the rat scurried.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Time and Connections *****
Why does everyone think the last chapter was so short? It’s the same length as
most of my chapters are. (And I still haven’t found my cat, but thank you for
asking… She was old and declawed and it’s been over a month now. I might have
to admit she’s gone.)
                                     X X X
A week passed.
Things moved slowly after the quickness of everything that had happened.
Ikuto spent nearly that entire week in the hospital. The damage to his body was
extensive—the crippling wounds to his psyche were even worse—and he was
undernourished to the point that his body had started eating itself. Doctors
and police alike were concerned, reporters attempting to flock to him when they
heard that the famous Hoshina Kazuomi had been sexually abusing his step-son
for a long time. Sometimes, Ikuto almost wished no one knew—almost¬.
Though Tadase kept his eye out for Amu in their shared high school, he didn’t
see her. He did see Rima growing thinner and paler, more withdrawn. Her
parents’ fights were getting worse, lasting longer, and beginning to involve
Rima. She spent more and more time at the Planetarium, but didn’t say much
about what was going on at home. She just did her homework and quietly
confessed to Tadase that she wished the fighting would just stop. Even if her
family broke apart with the divorce, at least it would be over.
Ikuto and Utau returned to school and work and Easter’s studio.
Yukari fawned over Utau endlessly, wishing that she had seen the signs and done
something to help—but the fact of the matter was that she hadn’t and Utau
didn’t know whether to blame her or just let it go. Yuu was doing much of the
same, thinking of everything he had seen that long-ago Friday night. When Utau
spoke to Ikuto about it, he merely looked as conflicted as she felt. It was
easy to blame the abuser, but what was to be done with those that had the power
to help but didn’t?
It was perhaps hardest on Kairi. He was still tormented by blackmailing Utau to
work the Kissing Booth. To find out that she had had so many things going on in
her life and he had only added to her problems… the thought made him ill. He
tried to make it up to them both by cooking elaborate meals and making them as
comfortable as possible in the apartment he shared with his sister.
Ikuto returned to work, but didn’t take the night shifts any longer. He and
Utau were staying with Yukari until something could be arranged for them and
Yukari wanted Ikuto home and safe at night when she deemed there to be the most
danger to him lurking in the shadows. It was strange to work with Nadeshiko and
Nagihiko, to feel their eyes and know that they knew his secrets, but they
never commented on what they knew happened to him. In fact, the twins hardly
changed at all. Nadeshiko still hugged him and Nagihiko still slapped him on
the back, if not with a little more tenderness. For that, Ikuto was grateful.
Kuukai became an ever-present thing in their lives.
He spent time with Utau whenever he could manage it between sports and his
hectic home life. Ikuto was glad Utau had someone her own age to talk to and
hang out with (even if Kuukai annoyed the living daylights out of Ikuto
personally). Plus, Kuukai was aggravatingly cheerful and he took Utau’s mind
off the horrors that still waited for her and her brother.
Kazuomi still hadn’t been caught.
Yards and yards of red tape made it difficult to build a case against him.
There was always a lingering fear that he would slither out of the consequences
and have them both again.
Ikuto would never let that happen, but he had failed to protect his sister
before. What if something spiraled out of his control? (Utau did all she could
to banish these thoughts from his mind, but it was nearly impossible.)
As if all their troubles were a mere ripple in the pond, life slid back into
normalcy.
Ikuto’s bruises faded, his body healed on the outside, his mind patched itself
up as best it could. He played his father’s violin a lot. Utau began to write
songs and music again. She started to sing in the shower and hum while she
worked. She smiled sometimes.
People stopped whispering about Ikuto and Utau. They stopped looking on with
sympathy and pity. They stopped being so careful and shy and almost fearful,
like a single word would break Ikuto and Utau. The endless tide of blood-
sucking reports abated (maybe because they learned the two siblings seemed to
know no words save ‘no comment’). Though Yukari insisted both see a counselor,
things began to get better.
Two weeks passed.
Still, no one had seen Amu.
…
It was a beautiful day—hardly a cloud in the sky and the temperatures were
reaching the high seventies in the sunlight. Kuukai plopped down beside Ikuto
at the picnic table outside the school with the force of a meteor. Ikuto slid
him a savage look, straightening his toppled apple and water bottle, but it was
lost on Kuukai. The younger boy had already turned to Utau, said something, and
made her laugh. Ikuto’s dark look slid away, his lips curving softly in
response to Utau’s happiness.
“Anyway, I ran into Tadase today,” Kuukai was saying.
“Tadase?” Utau asked, sipping her juice.
“Yeah, you know, the little prince,” Kuukai said.
Utau lifted a brow.
“Tsukasa’s nephew,” Ikuto supplied.
Recognition lit Utau’s expression and she smiled at her brother, melting his
heart. “Yeah?”
“He asked me if I’ve seen Hinamori Amu around lately,” Kuukai continued. “I
think he has a little crush on her.”
Ikuto choked on his bite of apple.
Utau elbowed him. “Why would he ask you if you’ve seen her?”
Kuukai took a bite of his sandwich. “Because Amu and I go way back,” he said.
“We were friends when we were little.”
“Really?” Ikuto asked Kuukai.
“Yeah,” Kuukai explained. “We were neighbors. Her family and my family used to
do the whole backyard barbecue and camping trip thing. It was always a circus
because I’m one of five boys and then Amu and Ami… It was a lot of kids to cram
in one tent or at one kiddy table.”
He seemed in danger of rambling on forever so Ikuto interrupted him. “Ami?”
Kuukai’s eyes grew soft and sad. “Amu’s little sister,” he said quietly. “She
got sick when she was really little. There was nothing the doctors could do to
save her. Then my parents died and my brothers and I had to move in with our
grandfather at his temple in the mountains. I don’t really know what happened
to the Hinamoris after Ami died. We just moved back recently. I ran into Amu at
the mall and her mom acted really weird when she saw me…”
Ikuto didn’t hear what Kuukai said after that.
He remembered hearing Tsukasa talking about the Amber Alert for Amu at the
hospital. The alert had been for ‘Ami,’ not ‘Amu.’ At the time, they had
assumed it was merely a typo made by late-night television, but what if it
was…?
He remembered asking Amu about her blonde hair and seeing something lurk in her
eyes for a moment before she answered him. He knew that look. He had seen it in
the mirror for years. That was the look of a painful secret.
“Kuukai,” Ikuto interrupted again. “Ami… was she a blonde?”
Kuukai lifted a brow. “Yeah, she was. Why?”
Ikuto’s heart skipped a beat and his blood ran cold. No one had seen Amu since
that night at the hospital. Ikuto had been so busy with his own problems and
pains that he hadn’t really thought about her, but now… What if something
horrible happened to her? He would not be one of those people who sat around
while someone suffered. He jolted up from the picnic table, knocking his water
bottle askew again, and bolted back into the school. He raced through the
hallways and into the rear parking lot, throwing open the door to his step-
father’s black Jaguar.
Right now, he was just happy to have a fast car.
…
Hoshina Kazuomi had grown a full beard, marring his handsome features, but it
made him less easily recognizable. He sat in a nondescript car outside Ikuto
and Utau’s high school, just watching. Those two brats would pay for not being
perfect children, for escaping him, for ruining his reputation, for everything
they did. He would make them pay, but first… he would have to catch them.
It was proving more difficult than he had expected.
Ikuto was rarely alone and Kazuomi was loathe to approach the boy without a
hostage. When pushed to his limit and needing to protect someone else, that boy
could be as strong and dangerous as any wild animal. If Kazuomi went after him
with a weapon, Ikuto might be killed before Kazuomi could enact his revenge.
(And he was wary of non-deadly weapons such as Tasers. He had seen how easily
they could be turned on him.) If Kazuomi just attacked him directly, Ikuto
would sooner kill himself than return.
If Kazuomi got his hands on Utau though, that was a completely different matter
entirely. But Utau wasn’t rarely alone. She was never alone. Someone was always
with her be it one of those annoying twins or that red-haired boy or Yukari or
Kairi or Ikuto or someone else. He needed to catch Utau alone. Her fear of him
made her weak and prone to panic, easily caught. Once he had his hands on her,
Ikuto would be easy prey.
And so, Kazuomi waited and watched.
After all, he was nothing if not patient.
And then, he saw the black Jaguar he had bought Ikuto to ‘keep up appearances’
go roaring out of the school parking lot in the middle of the day. Well, that
was interesting. Where was that boy going in such a rush? Kazuomi followed
easily, keeping a few car lengths back and being certain to drive the speed
limit. So many criminals were apprehended on routine traffic stops that it
wasn’t even funny.
Ikuto pulled up in front of a plain once-white house with a neatly groomed lawn
and a single swing tied to the tree out front. He got out and left the car
running, hurrying up to the door and knocking loudly. He waited a long moment,
but no one answered. Quickly, Ikuto prowled the perimeter of the house, peeking
in windows and listening closely. He even looked in the garden shed.
Occasionally, he called someone’s name. What on earth was he doing?
Then, lest he be caught prowling around the house, Ikuto hurried back to the
Jag and slid behind the wheel. He sat in the car for a long moment, listening
and watching. Then, he chewed his lower lip, put the car in reverse, and headed
back towards school.
Kazuomi decided not to follow Ikuto back. Instead, he watched the house. He had
a feeling that whoever lived here would be Ikuto’s downfall. Even if it wasn’t
Utau, it would still be worth it to get his hands on the boy and wring the life
from his thin little neck. Then, Kazuomi would waste plenty of money on fancy
lawyers and grease the judge’s palm and get off scot-free, just like when he
had murdered Souko. Even if Utau took the stand, she was just a child. She
wouldn’t be able to change or prove anything. Then, when the time was right,
Kazuomi would rape and kill her too.
He smiled to himself and patiently watched as two normal, unassuming, and
vaguely-familiar people came home and disappeared into the house. Lights came
on and dinner was started. He could hear them talking of mundane things.
Kazuomi grew bored as the sun set. He drummed his fingers on the steering
wheel.
He was just thinking about leaving when he heard a banshee shriek from inside
the house. The screaming howl went on and on for several minutes, rattling the
man’s bones, but then everything went eerily silent. The silence in the wake of
that scream was deafening.
                                     X X X
There have been a lot of cliffhangers lately, but I’m really not doing them on
purpose. That’s just how they’re coming out. Oh well…
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review!
***** Shattering Climax: Pt I *****
Yes, another cliffhanger. I’ve been very evil lately. (Actually, the chapters
are just ending themselves and that’s how it’s working out.)
And I’m sorry about my unreasonably late update time, but things got crazy on
me and my ability to organize my life is apparently very low… Anyway, I’ll try
to make up for it, but with the way things have been going lately… don’t hold
your breath.
                                     X X X
Amu was sitting in the darkness, her fingers clasped so tightly around her
father’s pocket knife that she could no longer feel them. She was beginning to
wonder if her hand might have fused with the blade. How long had she been
trapped down here in the dark? Her parents never opened the door—not to give
her food or water or even to beat her or forgive her or call her by Ami’s name.
At this point, she would have welcomed any of those things regardless. It was
as if they had buried her, just like they had buried Ami so long ago.
Her stomach growled. Her body ached, frigid and stiff. Her mind was dizzy with
thirst and hunger.
She wet her chapped lips, listening to the silence. What felt like an eternity
ago, she had caught the rat nibbling at her arm. At first, terror had gripped
her. She remembered screaming, grabbing the squirming creature, and tossing it
as far from her as she could in the confines of the small basement. It made a
little pathetic injured sound in the dark and was quiet for several hours. For
a while, she thought she had killed it and was almost sad.
But she thought of her parents, of the knife in her hands, of her starving
belly, of everything they had done to her.
Anger filled her heart, swallowing up the pity she felt for the injured rat.
Her stomach growled louder, dots dancing in front of her eyes. Exhausted and
starving, she fell asleep. She awoke to pain, to the rat gnawing the wound it
had created in her flesh before. This time, she didn’t scream. She pinned the
rat with one hand in the dark, wincing as it frantically bit her fingers and
hand as if sensing the inevitable. Amu stabbed it. It took several tries in the
dark, but she felt the hot blood as life bled out of the creature.
She thought of her sister’s slow death, of how her parents wants Ami back more
than they would ever care for Amu.
Her stomach growled again, louder, like a living thing. The rat was raw and
skinny, boney and foul-tasting, but Amu ate it anyway. She was that desperate,
that hungry, and that angry. Now, she looked back on that moment with a little
bit of sickness and just a twinge of regret, but she was hungry again, growing
desperate. If another rat appeared in the basement, she had no doubts of what
she would do with it though she was still uncertain of what she would do to her
own parents. She watched the thin beam of light at the top of the stairs and
listened to the silence.
The silence was thick now, not even broken by the scrabbling of the rat.
Amu was alone.
The basement felt like a grave, dark and pressing.
In a way, Amu felt like Ami.
Then, the moment came. She heard the front door open, squealing on the hinges
she meant to oil to make her parents happy. She listened to their footsteps as
they crossed through the kitchen, chattering amicably as if they hadn’t left
their daughter to starve in the basement. She heard them eat, her stomach
growling further and her mouth watering at the smell that drifted down to her.
They cleaned up, they talked a little bit more, and they kissed. There was
silence for a while. Then, they approached the basement, footsteps slowing.
Amu rose onto her knees, tucked herself into the space beside the staircase
where they wouldn’t be able to readily see her. She gripped the pocket knife
tighter, her cold fingers going numb. She waited, her eyes focused on the door
above her.
The lock tumbled.
Amu’s weakened starved body tensed, adrenaline beginning to pump through her
ruined form. Dizziness swayed her, but her will was—for once—stronger than her
injured body was. She would escape the pitch-black basement. She would go into
the light and she would not allow her parents to hurt her anymore.
The door swung open, so much light flooding down that it burned Amu’s eyes. She
took a moment to look at the staircase, to calculate the descent of her
parents. She thought about all the times she had fallen down those unforgiving
stairs. Fresh anger renewed her, chasing back the niggling feeling that she had
done something wrong to deserve this.
“Where is she?” Midori asked her husband.
“Probably crawled somewhere,” Tsumugu said. His footsteps on the stairs were
heavy and loud.
Midori was just behind him, her footsteps lighter, softer. Then, she gasped
loudly. Amu figured her mother must be seeing the place where Amu had killed
and devoured the rat. She had felt all the blood drying there in the darkness.
It was a big mess, like a crime scene.
“Blood,” Tsumugu assured her. “Probably hurt herself when she fell down the
stairs.”
“Yes,” Midori said softly. Then, quieter, “It’s disgusting.”
More footsteps and Amu saw her father’s ankle appear in the space between the
railing and the place where she was hidden. She wanted to cut him then, but she
didn’t. If she acted too quickly, Midori would escape and Amu would remain down
here with the moldering corpse of her father. It was bad enough she had to act
as Ami’s corpse. She waited, holding the pocket knife tightly, holding her
breath for fear of alerting them to her hiding place.
Then, Tsumugu was off the stairs and moving through the dim shadows of the
basement. Midori was just behind him, pausing with her back to Amu’s hiding
place as she surveyed the bloody mess on the concrete floor. Amu rose to her
feet, clinging to the knife like it was a gift from God.
Tsumugu reached up and pulled the short chain on a single bare bulb hanging
from the low ceiling.
The light blinded Amu. The brightness seared into her eyes and she cried out
suddenly, unable to muffle the small sound of pain.
Tsumugu turned towards her, his lips curled into an expression of surprise. Was
he surprised that she was still alive and kicking? Or did he see his own
pocketknife gleaming in her white-knuckled grip? Amu would never know for
certain what Tsumugu thought in that moment and she would never get the chance
to ask him.
With a wild banshee shriek that tore from her like a living thing, she lunged
at him. The knife sank into his gut and it was harder than Amu had expected it
to be. She pulled back, the blade gleaming red in the light, and then she
stabbed again.
Tsumugu cried out in surprise and agony, stumbling desperately back from Amu’s
assault. Amu was still screaming, but the sound seemed to be coming from far
away.
Then, Amu lunged at her father a final time and he threw himself back from her.
A stack of boxes that they stored in the basement took his feet out from under
him and he crashed backwards. His head cracked into the concrete wall with the
hollow sound of breaking.
The banshee screams faded, echoing in the basement’s enclosed space. Amu stood
in front of her father, watching the blood fan out beneath him, panting with
exertion. A sense of relief overwhelmed her—he would never be able to hurt her
again.
Then, she became aware of her mother screaming behind her.
Amu turned, already lifting the knife again.
Midori was on the floor, her back against the wall, hands pressed to her face
in terror. “You’re not my daughter! You’re a monster!” she howled.
“I’m the monster?” Amu croaked in a voice she hadn’t used in two weeks. “You
did this to me!” Rage consumed her, making her vision blur and her leaden limbs
feel lighter. “You did all of this to me! You hurt me! You’re the monster!” Amu
raised the pocketknife she had used to kill her father. Blood splattered down
on her head and shoulders and cast a shadow in the light of the bare bulb.
Midori screamed again, covering her body, and it took a moment for what she was
screaming to penetrate Amu’s rage-filled exhausted mind.
“No!” Midori was screaming. “Not by baby! Don’t kill my baby!”
Amu’s heart stopped. “Baby?” she breathed.
Midori collapsed into sobbing, unaware of Amu lowering the blade.
Tears welled in Amu’s eyes and she staggered towards the stairs. The bloody
pocketknife slipped from her fingers and clattered on the stairs as she
desperately ascended. She reached the top and threw herself out, slamming the
door on the basement and her parents. She threw the lock and just lay there for
a moment, panting.
What felt like a small eternity passed.
Then, Amu staggered to her feet and made her way to the kitchen on trembling
limbs. She washed her bloody hands and then drank water from her cupped palms.
How long had it been since she had drank anything? She gulped greedily,
slurping water down her throat and over her chin. Then, she moved to the fridge
and looked inside. It was well-stocked and she desperately removed a small dish
of ravioli. She didn’t bother to microwave it and ate a few bites cold. Her
stomach clenched painfully, too full after so long not eating anything other
than the rat.
A wave of nausea ran through Amu.
God, what had she done?
She had to call the police!
She had to confess!
She had to escape!
She had to… something!
Amu staggered towards the front door and threw it open. The fresh night air,
heavy with the smell of rain, slammed into her like a physical blow. She gasped
in the fresh air greedily, clinging to the sagging railing of her porch.
Crickets chirped in the night, leaves rattled, and lightning bugs glowed. The
moon and stars shone overhead.
All at once, she slid to her knees and sobbed for all that had happened.
Somehow, she dragged herself to her feet and left her once-white house behind
her for the second time. She headed to the Planetarium, staggering, clinging to
fences and trees for support as she walked.
Behind her, a slow-moving car with bright headlights trailed after her, but she
couldn’t bring herself to care.
Tsukasa’s Planetarium came into view. For once, it was dark inside as if no one
was home. The pale girl with long blonde hair—Rima—was sitting in front of it
with her bike at her side, chin resting on her bent knees. When Amu approached,
she looked suitably shocked.
“What happened to you? You haven’t been in school for weeks,” Rima demanded,
getting to her feet immediately. “Is that blood?”
Amu merely asked, “Where’s Tsukasa?”
“Not here,” Rima said. “Who is that?”
Amu half-turned, her world swaying weakly around her. She glimpsed a man with a
full beard getting out of the slow-moving car. There was something familiar
about him, but she couldn’t place where she had seen him before. She was too
tired, too weak, too hurt.
“Hello girls,” the man said coldly as he approached.
“Where’s Ikuto?” Amu asked Rima as if the other girl would know.
Rima pulled out her cell phone, the screen shining in the darkness.
“Where’s Ikuto?” Amu asked again, almost deliriously.
Rima pressed her phone to her ear.
A large hand moved into Amu’s peripheral vision and closed down over her mouth
before she could even think to scream. Then, she saw the other hand moving as
if in slow-motion towards Rima. Those fingers tangling in Rima’s long hair and
pulled fiercely, yanking the girl off her feet and sending the phone flying.
Amu hear someone’s voice on the other end of the phone, but it was drowned out
as Rima screamed in panic and terror.
Adrenaline pumped through Amu, but she wasn’t armed anymore. Instead, she
lashed out like an animal and managed to hook her heel into their assailant’s
kneecap. He cursed, fingers digging into Amu’s face and ripping Rima sidelong
by her hair. Amu wrenched away from him, the pain distant compared to all she
had been through.
“Let her go!” she shouted at the man.
He glared at her, eyes bright as jewels and mean as a snake.
Familiarity swam through Amu’s blurred mind. “You’re… Ikuto’s step-dad,” she
breathed out and her legs folded beneath her.
He pulled Rima against his chest and covered her mouth, choking off her
screaming. “I’ll get revenge on that boy, bitch.”
The words barely registered. “Let Rima go,” Amu said to him.
He sneered, “Where is he?”
Amu could hear several voices shouting through Rima’s abandoned phone. She
didn’t dare try to figure out who was on the other end of the line, but her
heart was pounding so hard that it was making her dizzy. Though she had already
fallen, the world swam around her like water. Rima’s terrified face seemed to
fill up the world as Kazuomi approached Amu where she had fallen.
Then, a night-black car screamed into the parking lot of the Planetarium.
                                     X X X
Ugh, another cliffhanger. Why does this keep happening?
Again, sorry about the lateness, but life has gone all out-of-control on me.
Reviews, please.
***** Shattering Climax: Pt II *****
Oh my god, I have had zero time to get anything done… Who knows when this will
get under control again…? But I’m going out hiking tomorrow so I’m managing to
post tonight! Yay, me.
Enjoy!
                                     X X X
The Planetarium was a noisy place to make ones home. Upstairs, trying to study
beneath the glare of his desk lamp, all Tadase could hear was the distant
rumble of the storm and the grinding of the lights and planets as they circled
a few floors below. Then, there were all the broken people his uncle saw fit to
gather and collect like objects to be mended and put to good use. They came
during all hours—early morning, lunch time, late at night—to see if there was
anything Tsukasa could do to mend their troubles.
Tsukasa was off on one such adventure now. Rima had come over, crying and
sobbing, nearly in complete hysterics. All she had managed to get out was that
her parents were fighting so badly that she was worried her mother might kill
her father. And so, off Tsukasa went like a knight in shining armor that
belonged in a storybook.
And Rima sat on the curb outside because she couldn’t bear to go inside the
comedy club.
And Tadase pretended he was able to study or sleep through the commotion.
Downstairs, Tadase listened to Rima’s high-pitched voice as she spoke to
someone. There was another voice, too weak and tremulous for Tadase to hear
from this distance, speaking with Rima. He heard them say Ikuto’s name in
passing—maybe the police had come by again.
A car pulled into the parking lot, tires hissing softly in the night. Then,
Tadase heard a man’s voice and thought his uncle had returned, but the man’s
voice… It was cold and harsh, cruel and mean and angry. It was nothing like
Tsukasa’s voice. Tadase didn’t immediately think about it. Maybe it was just a
drunk wandering by on the street, stumbling his way home after a hard
afternoon. Oh well…
Then, Tadase thought of Rima and how frail and vulnerable she looked. What if a
drunkard tried to her hurt her?
With a sigh, Tadase laid aside his notes and pens and rose from his desk. He’d
go downstairs and make sure everything was alright. And then, he’d convince
that silly girl to come inside where it was safe so he could study for his test
in peace. His footsteps on the stairs were loud as he descended towards the
Planetarium below.
Then, Rima screamed. Her voice howled with terror, flying straight through
Tadase like needles of ice.
He ran then, his heart pounding like a drum. He tripped at the bottom of the
staircase, sliding his way into the Planetarium and was blinded by a flash of
starlight playing on Jupiter. Outside the glass doors, the night was a dense
velvet cloak and a horrible scene was being played out.
Something must have happened that he didn’t hear or see.
There was a familiar girl slumped on the macadam, the roots of her hair showing
pale red over the bright blonde. Was that… Amu? But she hadn’t been in school
for weeks. Rima was tangled in the man’s strong arms, his fingers fisted in her
long hair and his other hand covering her mouth like a vice. Her eyes were wide
and terrified, her cell phone lying open nearby. Had she managed to call for
help?
“You’re… Ikuto’s step-dad,” the other girl whispered.
“I’ll get revenge on that boy, bitch,” the man snarled out, tightening his grip
on Rima.
“Let Rima go.” Her voice was soft and distant and she swayed weakly.
“Where is he?” the man hissed.
Then, a night-black Jaguar slid into the parking lot. Lighting lit up the sky
behind it and thunder crashed. The storm was so close, nearly on top of them.
Tadase’s heart pounded. What should he do? He scurried behind the bar of the
club where Tsukasa always made milkshakes and quickly lifted the phone from its
cradle. He managed to push two digits of the emergency number before lightning
struck again and this time, it struck the pole outside the Planetarium. The
lights abruptly went out with a hiss and blackness swallowed Tadase whole. It
was crushing and he thought again of the babysitter coming in to wake him in
the night and tell him…
‘Tadase, there’s… something has—’
He pressed the memory back, swallowing dry. Blind, he groped for the flashlight
his uncle kept beneath the bar for occasions just like this. After several long
moments, his fingers closed around it and he turned the beam on, shocked to
find it shivering and leaping all over the room. He forced his hands steady and
then the beam fell across the shotgun Tsukasa kept for protection. Like it had
a wicked consciousness all its own, the metal glittered in the beam of the
flashlight.
Outside, he heard screaming again.
…
Thunder rumbled overhead as the black Jaguar screamed to a stop, fishtailing on
the pavement. The driver and passenger doors flew open and two rail-thin people
vaulted immediately from the vehicle before it had even stopped completely. For
a moment, silhouetted by the streetlamp and stars, Amu didn’t know if they were
angels come to rescue them or demons come to hurl them into hell further.
“Kazuomi!” Utau’s voice rang out like music. “Let her go!”
“You bastard,” Ikuto snarled. His hands rolled into fists tight enough to break
the skin.
Kazuomi grinned at them like a jackal, tightening his grip on Rima.
Lightning fell from the sky and landed on the pole at their backs. Sparks
leaped like living beings, lunging towards the people below. Inside the
Planetarium, the lights fluttered and then went out in a surge like black
water. The stars and planets were all at once gone as if their own personal
universe had been obliterated.
Utau made a pained sound and Ikuto saw her lift her hand from her corner of his
eye. Her hand came away bloody, her shoulders and back burned by the leaping
sparks, but her violet eyes were hard and prepared. She wanted this to be over
once and for all, no matter the cost.
Kazuomi tightened his grip on Rima’s long hair, tearing her head to the side.
She screamed, muffled by his hand.
“Let her go,” Ikuto said to his step-father. “You don’t want her anyway. You
want me. You want us. So just let her go.”
Utau tugged his sleeve and gestured.
Ikuto tore his eyes from his step-father’s face and his gaze fell on Amu’s
crumpled form. She was slumped on the ground weakly, her limbs as thin as twigs
and her skin filthy with blood. Something terrible had happened to her and his
very heart told him her parents were behind her suffering, just as Kazuomi was
behind his own.
“Come here,” Kazuomi snarled. “Both of you.”
Ikuto stepped forward, unhesitating, but Utau hung back.
“Ikuto,” she gasped, reaching for him, but he had already slipped too far out
of reach.
Ikuto walked towards his step-father like a man condemned, but he wasn’t
afraid. What did he have left to fear, after all? Kazuomi had made him live his
greatest fears, had taken everything away from him, had tormented and tortured
and used him since he was ten. He had nothing left to fear save losing the
people in his immediate sight.
He wouldn’t let Kazuomi hurt Rima.
He would get Amu out of there.
Ikuto was within reach when he stopped, teasing his step-father with his
proximity. “You won’t break me again,” Ikuto said.
“You only break once.” Kazuomi made a disgusting sound as he wet his lips and
released Rima’s mouth to grab at Ikuto. “This time, boy, I’ll tear your body to
pieces.” He snarled at Utau, “And I’ll make you watch, bitch. Then, before I
finally kill him, he can watch me destroy you—his precious little sister who he
worked so hard to protect.”
Utau’s fingers clenched, a little gasp of terror escaping her lips.
But Ikuto did not back down. His expression was pale, but firm and resolved.
Would he give himself to his step-father? To save Rima?
Rima’s heart pounded, sucking in air like she had been drowned. These were her
friends and she wouldn’t allow that to happen without trying to stop it. But
what could she do? She couldn’t call for help. She had already dropped her cell
phone and the person she had been calling was Ikuto anyway because he insisted
that anyone who saw Amu call him immediately. But… Kazuomi didn’t know that.
Kazuomi snarled his fingers in the front of Ikuto’s shirt, yanking him closer.
“Don’t!” Rima said suddenly. “You’d better get out of here if you don’t want to
go to prison.”
Kazuomi pulled her hair, prying tears from her eyes. “Why is that?”
“Let her go, Kazuomi,” Ikuto hissed.
“Because,” Rima forced out. “I’ve… I’ve already called the police. They’ll be
here any minute…”
But Kazuomi had already heard those words from Kuukai and he was not about to
be tricked by any child ever again. Instead, he turned, dragging Rima along and
releasing Ikuto, to pick up her cell phone where it lay. He dialed through her
pervious calls and the last number was Ikuto’s. He shoved the phone in her
face.
“You lying little bitch!” he snarled.
Amu’s eyes glowed like those of an animal, the dried blood flecking off her
skin. She met Rima’s eyes and understood. With a banshee scream, he threw
herself on Kazuomi, clawing and biting. From behind, Ikuto threw himself into
the fray, adrenaline lending him strength he shouldn’t have had. Shocked, he
tossed Rima away and tore his hands into Amu.
Rima’s body crashed against the glass doors of the Planetarium and they broke
beneath her. She screamed as she fell, the glass skittering like broken stars
around her and carving deep into her flesh. The sight of her own blood made her
sick and blackness swam into her vision. For a moment, she fought, but she
wasn’t strong enough—she had never truly suffered pain before. She thought she
might have glimpsed Tadase’s pale face before the darkness took her greedily.
Kazuomi managed to throw Amu off, the girl’s body sliding across the pavement
and her head knocked into the bumper of the Jag. Utau was at her side in an
instant, calling her name, but the girl didn’t respond. She was frightfully
still and so thin. What had happened to her?
Ikuto was tearing into Kazuomi with animal rage and strength he only displayed
when he desperately needed it. It was almost as if he had been possessed. He
punched Kazuomi in the face, once, twice, three times, until his step-father’s
nose gave beneath his knuckles. Kazuomi slumped down, his body as limp as wet
paper.
Panting, Ikuto stumbled away, turning his back on the monster once and for all.
Utau’s scream came too late, her warning almost unheard in the sound that
followed.
Gunfire shattered the world, but it was not the blast of a shotgun. The handgun
smoked in Kazuomi’s hand, the bullet tearing through Ikuto’s side. With a
scream of pain and shock, the boy fell to the pavement, his hand clutched over
the wound as lifeblood gushed from his side.
Utau ran to his side, rolling him over and pressing her hands to the wound.
“No,” she sobbed. “Ikuto, no.”
Kazuomi rammed the gun into her throat. “Come here, little bitch,” he snarled,
words garbled by his broken nose. Then, he bent down into Ikuto’s face. “Watch
me destroy her, boy, and know that you never managed to protect her.”
“No!” Utau screamed, struggling. “No, Ikuto, don’t listen to him. You did all
you could! You always did all you could!”
The butt of the gun slammed into her temple and Utau didn’t feel her step-
father pull off her clothes and throw her down naked on the pavement. She was
just suddenly aware of cold rain pouring down on her and she could see Ikuto
struggling to rise as Kazuomi taunted him.
“No,” she whispered, but her body felt separate from the rest of her. Her arms
and legs wouldn’t respond, even with the icy rain bringing sensation and
feeling back into her body. “No… Ikuto. Don’t… listen… to him. Always… lies…
You did… everything…”
“Utau,” Ikuto rasped.
She closed her eyes and felt only the rain.
Then, Tadase’s voice rang out, sharp and clear. “Get away from them.”
Utau forced her eyes open and searched for him. He was standing in the broken
threshold of the Planetarium. The shotgun was so large in his grasp that it was
almost laughable, but he wouldn’t need to aim the weapon. With a shotgun, one
only needed to get close to the target. The rain pelted him, soaking his pale
hair and white shirt to his skin. Suddenly, Utau felt that Tadase would not be
enough to save them, even with a shotgun.
Kazuomi must have thought the same thing because he slowly straightened from
Utau’s body and spread his arms wide though his own revolver still dangled from
his grip. “Will you shoot me, boy?”
Tadase didn’t answer. He merely pulled the trigger.
Buckshot spread out, fanning everywhere through the rain, but Amu, Ikuto, and
Utau were all on the ground and Kazuomi was the only one standing. As such, the
buckshot tore into his body alone and he crumpled like a rag doll. He fell
between Ikuto and Utau, his blood mingling with theirs.
Tadase dropped the shotgun, running through the rain to get to his friends. He
collapsed beside Ikuto. “What do I do?” he gasped.
Ikuto’s bloodied hand closed over his white shirt. “Inside,” he rasped. “Take
them… inside… call for… help.”
Tadase nodded, grabbed Utau as best her could and half-dragged half-carried her
into the Planetarium. Then, he grabbed Rima’s cell phone, but the rain had
drenched it. He rushed upstairs, tearing through the bathroom for a hairdryer,
and called for help as soon as the phone began working again. So long as he got
a call out, help would come.
Then, he heard another gunshot and his heart stopped.
                                     X X X
And please don’t antagonize me with constant nags to update. I’m aware that
this story needs to be updated, but I just can’t find the time right now. I’m
working too much.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Shattering Climax: Pt III *****
Compared to the last chapter, this one is a little short.
Sorry it took me so long to get this up. I’ve been in the process of moving all
my stories (except the first chapter) to Archive of Our Own. I’m totally sick
of the trolls here and I’m going to a mature site.
                                     X X X
“Ikuto…”
The voice was soft and sweet, like the music of a violin. The scent of crushed
flowers floated on a summer breeze. Love was in the air and happiness and
shelter and warmth. The boy couldn’t remember feeling like this in a long time.
He only ever imagined a world like this in his dreams.
“Ikuto…”
But he was aware of the bullet in his side and the blood pouring from his body.
But his step-father was dead and his sister had been saved. What purpose would
he fulfill by staying in the world of suffering and pain? Why should he fight
any longer? He was tired and weak and his body throbbed with his heartbeat.
“Ikuto…”
Slowly though, it all faded into the light and happiness that was this place.
Again, the sweet lady’s voice called his name, soothing to him like some half-
remembered song. There was the sound of a violin somewhere, playing a lullaby
that sounded more like a cry.
“Is this… Heaven?” Ikuto whispered.
“No, baby,” the woman cooed gently. “And it’s not time for you to go.”
“Mom?” he whispered, turning his head on the cushion of cloud.
She was there, smiling sadly at him, her body filled with light. “Hello,
darling…”
“Why can’t I come with you now?”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“He’s not gone yet, baby,” she whispered.
Ikuto closed his eyes. “He is… I saw it… Tadase and the shotgun.”
“He’s still alive, baby, waiting for his final revenge.”
Ikuto turned towards her. “Utau is safe. I protected her. I made sure too.”
“I know,” Souko said gently and stroked her son’s damp hair. “You did so well,
my brave boy, but… he won’t go after her. He isn’t able too reach that far, but
he still has his gun and Amu is still near you.”
Ikuto’s eyes widened. “Amu? She has nothing to do with this. Why would he—”
“Just to hurt you, baby,” she whispered. “His last blow.”
Ikuto’s hands curled into fists, pain and cold flowing through him. “No. Why?”
“I know you like her, sweetheart, and she feels the same,” Souko whispered.
“And he suspects it.”
Ikuto couldn’t find words through his pain.
“Kazuomi has always been able to sense things like that, the vulnerable
feelings in people’s hearts… It’s why he’s always been so good at hurting
them…”
“It hurts,” Ikuto whispered, pain wracking him without mercy.
“I know, baby,” Souko whispered. “But do you think you could last a little bit
longer?”
Ikuto bit his lip hard enough to draw fresh blood, but he slowly nodded.
“My sweet brave boy,” Souko whispered, stroking his hair. “Someday, you’ll be
rewarded, sweetie.”
“That’s not why—”
She hushed him. “I know, baby.” Then, she pressed her lips to his cool forehead
and something flowed into Ikuto—some strength that he so desperately needed.
Souko sighed, her breath weak. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, baby, to
give you the last of my will. But you won’t be able to see me anymore, not
after this…”
“Mom,” Ikuto whimpered. “Please.”
She smiled serenely and shook her head. “I’ll be with your father and I’m
always watching over you. Baby, I love you.”
Then, the wonderful world evaporated. Color and darkness rushed back in. Cold
rain choked Ikuto, pouring into his lungs and heart, but he gratefully absorbed
the frigidity. Life swelled back into him, buoying him up. He opened his eyes.
…
The cold deluge of rain pulled Amu from unconsciousness. Her head swam as she
sat up, but if she didn’t get her face out of the puddle, she would drown. She
slumped against the car, squinting through the sheets of downpour. Lightning
and thunder still lingered overhead like curious observers.
The blood had been mostly washed from her body and was swept away in the river
of water flowing through the gutter, but there was an awful lot of blood
nearby. It was far more than could have just come from her body alone. Two
people were slumped a few feet from her, both bleeding badly.
She staggered to her feet, trying to recall what had happened, but her mind was
fuzzy with pain and something else. She peered through the rain and recognized
Ikuto lying there, breathing wetly and painfully. Beside him, his step-father
lay still. Was he dead?
“Ikuto?” Amu whispered, staggering to approach him. “Ikuto?”
He forced himself up, his voice stronger than he felt. “Get back!”
Kazuomi roared up beside him, the gun leveled at Amu’s chest. He didn’t waste
his energy speaking, just focused on the trigger, on memorizing the look of
absolute despair that would overwhelm Ikuto before death took them both.
But then Amu was staggered back, out of sight within the sheets of grey rain in
the darkness of night.
Kazuomi couldn’t see her. A curse tore from his lips as he turned to Ikuto with
a howl of rage. The boy just sat there beside his step-father, met his cruel
gaze, and smiled. The gun went off, deafening Ikuto as the bullet whizzed
wildly passed his head. He turned, unable to figure out why Kazuomi hadn’t
blown him away.
Utau was on her feet, her arm thrust forward with the motion of having thrown
something.
A moment later, Kazuomi fell and Utau’s high-heeled shoe clattered on the
pavement beside Ikuto, splashing in the rainwater. He turned back to her, still
smiling, as she rushed towards him through the rain. She tossed Kazuomi’s gun
away and wrapped her arms around her brother, sobbing helplessly. Amu joined
Utau, crouching on Ikuto’s other side. Her body was nothing more than bones
against him, but warm. She was alive, so alive… Just like Utau.
They were both alive. He had protected them.
Ikuto slumped into the haven of their arms and closed his tired eyes and knew
no more.
…
After hearing the gunshot, Tadase rushed back downstairs, stumbling through the
darkened interior of the Planetarium. Utau was gone, a smear of blood where her
head had been. Rima still lay in the pool of broken glass, unmoving save for
her breath. Outside, there was only the storm.
Tadase rushed out into it, screaming for Utau and Ikuto. He saw them, blood
fanned around them with Amu entangled in their arms and for a moment he feared
all three were dead. But Utau was weeping and Amu was as well and he knew they
were alive.
As for Ikuto…
The ambulance and police pulled into the parking lot, sirens howling like
beasts. Their red and blue lights splashed over everything like a macabre
portrait, lighting up the scene. Tsukasa arrived shortly thereafter with Rima’s
parents, all the adults looking shocked to death at what had happened in their
absence.
Then, so many things happened so quickly that it was hard to be certain of
exactly what happened. All that was clear through the storm and the never-
ending rain was that Kazuomi was dead—finally dead—and he couldn’t hurt his
step-children any longer. Across the small city, Amu’s father was dead as well
and her mother was imprisoned in the basement as Amu had been countless times.
                                     X X X
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Aftershock: It's Over *****
Due for our usual aftershock at the hospital.
                                     X X X
Amu allowed the EMTs to pull her from Ikuto’s limp arms and Utau’s desperate
embrace. She looked back at them, but Utau was being tended, her nakedness
covered by hospital gowns. It was time for each of them to heal and let the
adults that had failed them redeem themselves.
Amu told the police about her father, about her mother, and even about the rat.
She didn’t want to tell them about Ami, but she did. After all, the little girl
was already dead—still dead—and she had harmed Amu enough from beyond the
grave. It was time for Amu to let her own life take priority.
The doctor got her on an intravenous drip packed with vitamins and other
essential things that had been denied her body for the two weeks she was locked
starving in the basement of her family’s home. Then, the police left to collect
her father’s body and her raving mother. (Later, Amu found out that her mother
truly was pregnant and that she thought the baby was Ami reincarnated. Amu
couldn’t find the right emotion to feel for that, except sorrow for the child
that would never know its parents. Amu’s mother would go to an asylum and her
baby would never know her.)
After the IV finished, Amu asked for a shower and it was such a simple request
that the nurse was happy to fulfill it. The warm water was heaven and Amu
nearly fell asleep standing beneath the spray. Dressing in a hospital gown like
Utau, she was brought to a bed and slept like the dead until morning.
Then, her first thought was of Ikuto though she didn’t quite understand why her
heart raced at the thought of him.
She wandered the hallways and eventually found the room where the Tsukiyomi
siblings were sleeping. Ikuto looked like a pale happy corpse, but Amu saw the
heart monitor beeping out the rhythm of his pulse steadily. Beside him, Utau
slept peacefully, her porcelain face smooth. They were both safe, finally, and
so was she.
“Amu? What are you doing out of bed so early?” Kuukai’s voice rang out softly
from behind her.
Amu turned to face her long-time friend. “Hi,” she said softly, her smile
fragile.
His lips pulled thinly. “All this time, ever since Ami died, you’ve been
suffering, huh?”
She fingered her ruined hair, the pale rose hue showing at her roots but still
bright blond at the tips. “Yeah,” she confessed.
“Why didn’t you say anything to anyone? Someone would have helped you,” he
said.
“Would they have?” Amu asked him and her far-seeing golden eyes showed just how
deep her mistrust and hurt ran. It went all the way to her broken bones, seeped
into her very soul.
But Kuukai couldn’t argue with her. He knew that plenty of people with power to
help often didn’t All he could say was, “I would have helped you.”
Amu smiled thinly. “I know you would have.”
“I’m sorry,” Kuukai murmured and reached to embrace her.
For a moment, Amu was stiff in his embrace, like rigor mortis had swallowed
her. But then her body sagged against his chest and he felt her small shoulders
heave. She clung to him, her fingers knotted in his shirt, as she finally broke
down and cried. Kuukai just held her, stroking her hair. He couldn’t imagine
what she had been through and, honestly, he didn’t want to.
…
Utau’s life became a change of clothing.
First, Utau swathed herself in several hospital gowns to cover her nudity and
sat with Rima and Tadase in the Emergency Room while the police talked to the
adults. She borrowed Rima’s barely-working cell phone to call Kuukai and ask
him to come to the hospital. Then, she called Yukari—who was acting as her and
Ikuto’s guardian for now—and told her what had happened and that she was going
to stay at the hospital with Ikuto overnight.
Then, when Kuukai arrived, embracing her tightly and pressing a kiss to her
forehead, she wrapped herself in his still-warm jacket. She sat beside him,
leaning against his warm side while doctors worked against the clock to save
her brother’s life and the coroner’s meat wagon ushered away the body of the
man who had ruined her life.
After the police finished with Rima’s parents, she squeezed Utau’s hand and
left with the remains of her family. Her parents didn’t touch each other, but
they each held one of her hands, clinging to the daughter they might have lost
because their fighting had forced her to flee her home.
Tsukasa came to sit with them after that, speaking to Tadase in a soft voice.
Now that the adrenaline had seeped out of his nephew, Tadase was exhausted. All
he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and sleep until Christmas, but some
small part of his mind didn’t want to leave Utau and the others. It took a
while for Tsukasa to convince him to come home along with the promise that
they’d come back first thing tomorrow to see everyone.
And so, several people left.
Utau sat alone in the waiting room, pressed against Kuukai’s side. The warmth
of his body seeped into her, making her sleepy, but each new sound had her eyes
snapping open with worry. Had her step-father managed to rise from the grave,
just to attack her again?
Kuukai hushed her, rubbing her back, and Utau did her best to relax. The sounds
of the busy hospital faded and Utau listened to the distant music of a violin.
She felt warm and safe, like she was wrapped in her mother’s arms one final
time.
Then, sleep took her.
When she woke the next morning, she was lying on an unoccupied bed in the room
with Ikuto. Her brother looked thin and pale against the sheets, but his night-
dark hair gleamed and his lips were curved with a faint smile as he dreamed.
Tears welled in Utau’s eyes as she moved to his side and squeezed his hand.
Kazuomi was dead.
They were finally safe.
Utau lay down beside her brother, cuddled up against his side, comforted by the
sound of his easy breathing. After a while, she realized that she could hear
Kuukai talking to someone in the hallway. She listened absently, her eyes
sliding closed as she listened to his voice. When he came into the room and
pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, she had fallen asleep again. After that, it
felt as if she had slept for an eternity because when she woke again,
everything had changed.
And time had passed.
                                     X X X
Short chapter, but this story is going to be over by seventy chapters. Next one
will be mostly fluffy for Ikuto and Amu. Then I’ll do a short chapter that
wraps up some characters that a lot of people want to hear about (like Alto).
And then a classic closing chapter.
Questions, comments, concerns?
Review! I’ll update when I can.
***** Carnival of Love *****
I do not own Carrie Underwood’s song, “Blown Away.” I wanted to use all of
“Still an Innocent” by Taylor Swift, too, but I couldn’t find space for it so
there’s just the one little stanza because it’s so perfect for Ikuto. Enjoy the
fluff! I think everyone has earned it!
I made a companion video of Blown Away and Shugo Chara to go with this story.
Please check it out! Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Ae1zUPSTFM
                                     X X X
~Two Weeks Later
Amu fiddled with the backstage pass that hung around her neck. The pretty dress
she had borrowed from Utau whispered against her bare legs and she wobble
unsteadily on her low-heeled shoes. Had she ever been allowed to dress like
with? No… it would have reminded her parents of Ami. A small sound escaped
Amu’s throat, barely audible beneath the sound of Utau singing.
Ikuto glanced over at her, his lips curving into a warm smile, and he closed
his fingers over hers to prevent her from toying with the pass. His grip was
warm and soft, his fingers threading easily with hers, and Amu held his hand
with equal tightness. When she looked up at him, the stage lights playing on
his face, she couldn’t help but smile.
He leaned down, his lips gently brushing the shell of her ear to whisper, “What
is it?”
Amu shook her head, chasing away her dark thoughts. Since everything that
happened, things had gotten better. None of them needed to cringe at shadows or
keep secrets any longer. They were safe, they were free, and—dare she even
think it—they were happy.
“Nothing,” she whispered to Ikuto.
His smile saddened, knowing what she was thinking. She knew he still glanced at
the shadows of the stage where the lights did not reach, remembering how he had
given himself to his step-father in exchange for Utau at her Halloween concert
what felt like so long ago.
Kuukai came up behind them with Kairi and clapped Ikuto on the back. “Don’t
worry,” he told them. “It’s over. Just listen to Utau sing.”
“She wrote this song for you, Ikuto,” Kairi said, adjusting his glasses on the
bridge of his nose.
Ikuto squeezed Amu’s fingers again and turned his attention back to his sister.
She was standing at the microphone, the light shining down on her like heaven.
Then, the music began and her slender body swayed to the music. Kairi turned on
a stage fan and the breeze sent her rain-colored dress billowing like a wave.
“Dry lightning cracks across the sky,” Utau sang, lifting her hand over her
head so that the shadows played on her face. “Those storm clouds gather in her
eyes.”
The drums crashed like thunder.
“Her daddy was a mean old mister,” Utau continued. “Mama was an angel in the
ground.”
A ripple ran through the crowd. By now, everyone on the face of the planet knew
about Hoshina Kazuomi and what he had done to his step-children. They knew just
how deep the chords of this song ran with what had happened to beautiful
Meikyuu Butterfly and her violinist brother.
“The weatherman called for a twister,” Utau crooned. “She prayed, ‘Blow it
down.’”
The drums beat rhythmically, like the rataplan of raindrops of the roof as
Utau’s voice lifted into the chorus.
“There’s not enough rain in Oklahoma to wash the sins out of that house.
There’s not enough wind in Oklahoma to rip the nails out of the past.” Utau
clung to the microphone, the fan lifting her skirt, and then her bruise-colored
eyes slid across the stage to meet Ikuto’s.
His grip on Amu’s hand tightened.
“Shatter every window till it’s all blown away. Every brick, every board, every
slamming door—blown away! Till there’s nothing left standing, nothing left of
yesterday. Every tear-soaked whiskey memory—blown away!” Her voice cracked with
emotion. “Blown away!”
“She heard those sirens screaming out. Her daddy laid there, passed out, on the
couch. She locked herself in the cellar, listened to the screaming of the
wind,” Utau’s voice lowered as if she was sharing a secret. “Some people call
it taking shelter. She called it sweet revenge.”
A tear slipped down Utau’s cheek. She wished she had had the courage to take
revenge on her step-fther the very first time he hurt Ikuto, but she hadn’t and
what was done was done. They were safe now and nothing would change the past.
There wasn’t enough rain or wind to ever change the past.
“Shatter every window till it’s all blown away. Every brick, every board, every
slamming door—blown away! Till there’s nothing left standing, nothing left of
yesterday. Every tear-soaked whiskey memory—blown away! Blown away!”
Utau turned away from her audience to face her brother and Amu. She gazed at
them, singing her words only to them as if they were the only people in the
world. She didn’t even see Kuukai, only them. Her fans only saw the lashing of
her rain-colored gown and the movement of her hands and hips as she sang.
“There’s not enough rain in Oklahoma to wash the sins out of that house.
There’s not enough wind in Oklahoma to rip the nails out of the past,” she
sang, her voice rising into a crescendo. “Shatter every window till it’s all
blown away! Every brick, every board, every slamming door—blown away! Till
there’s nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday. Every tear-soaked
whiskey memory—blown away!”
Her voice echoed like the last crack of thunder in a storm. “Blown away!”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, the audience erupted into applause
that might have very well been louder than thunder. With one final look at her
brother, Utau returned to the microphone stand, sliding the mic back into it,
and lifted her hands for silence.
When the audience finally stilled, practically holding their breath to hear
what she was going to say, she finally spoke. “If there’s anyone who went what
we went through, it’s not your fault! Seek help. Someone out there will help
you and it’s not your fault! Just… always know that. Thank you,” she said.
Another moment of stunned silence passed. Then, roaring applause followed Utau
off the stage.
She accepted an embrace from Ikuto and then folded herself into Kuukai’s kiss.
Tears rolled unchecked down her face, but her eyes glowed with happiness and
her smile was brighter than any stage light could every have been.
Amu squeezed Ikuto’s hand and he looked down at her and smiled. Everything
would be alright—really, it would be.
…
The night was crisp and cool, scented with summer rains and fried food.
Crickets chirruped and fireflies flickered in the shadows. Nothing had ever
seemed to beautiful—the world in their eyes was new and fresh and safe. It was
a paradise, almost like heaven. It was a lot like the birds that always sang
after a storm, rejoicing in what sunlight was left. Or the caterpillar—just
when he thought the world was over, he became a beautiful butterfly. It was a
lot like that, but it couldn’t be explained.
“Ikuto,” Amu laughed, her voice echoing in the fading sunlight. “Where are we
going?”
“It’s a surprise,” he told her again, tugging her along behind him.
She followed, comforted by her hand in his even though there were scars on his
wrists from years of being raped and restrained. So they were both scarred, at
least they had each other. Ikuto glanced back at her, but she only smiled at
him. And her smile was beautiful. It was like a broken bird taking flight for
the first time, exploring the sky and the wings it had been born with.
Ikuto led her through the park until they reached a small traveling carnival
that had set up shop there. It was still early and the rides were mostly
deserted. But, since twilight had nearly fallen, Amu and Ikuto arrived just as
the last rides were being lit. The sight took Amu’s breath away and Ikuto
didn’t give her time to recover.
He quickly pulled her through the rides until they came to her favorite—the
carousel. He produced tickets from his pocket and handed them over, tugging Amu
through the countless horses until she chose one just to get him to stop
pulling her around. She gasped for breath once she was seated, but didn’t hold
it long. A moment later, Ikuto slid in behind her on the small horse, his body
pressed against her back.
Amu felt the heat of his body seep into her, his breath light against her ear
as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. He
didn’t speak, just let her feel him pressed against her back, his arms around
her, and he hoped his emotions were conveyed through this simple gesture.
The ride started up, calliope music spinning through Amu’s head like a hazy
drug. She relaxed in Ikuto’s embrace, meshing her fingers with his and leaning
against his chest. His breath was sweet against her cheek and she could feel
his steady heartbeat through his ribs. God, this was…
Ikuto pressed his lips to her cheek without a word, letting his kiss linger
there.
Amu’s heart pounded until the ride spun to a stop. They got off the horse and
Amu glanced into Ikuto’s face, hoping he’d speak and explain, but he just
smiled gently and led her from the carousel. They wandered through the small
carnival until Amu spotted the teacups.
Then, she knew exactly what to do.
She tugged on his hand, grinning without speaking just as he had, and towed him
to the ride. He had more tickets in his pockets and handed them to the vendor.
Then, Amu chose a teacup and pushed him into it, giggling when she noticed that
these teacups were even smaller than the one they had first rode together.
Ikuto was hopelessly too big for it, his long legs hanging over the edge, and
there was no room for her. Instead, Amu slipped into his lap, reclining in his
arms.
Ikuto held her without protest, cradling her head beneath his chin and securely
wrapping her within his long limbs. Amu lay in his arms, feeling his heartbeat
and his breath and the knotted scar in his side where his father had shot him,
while the ride slowly began to move. She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of
his skin, and felt his fingertips comb over her recently-trimmed rose-colored
hair.
Then, before she could lose her nerve, she shifted in his lap and looked into
his face. Ikuto’s blue eyes shone in the tinseled lights of the fair, bright
and soft, for once un-shadowed by everything that plagued him. Amu leaned in
and kissed him, gently and quickly, really more of a peck than a kiss just in
case he didn’t feel the same.
But when she moved to pull back, she felt his hand lightly on the back of her
neck. He guided her towards him again, their noses brushing tenderly, and then
he kissed her deeply. His mouth was soft and warm, hesitant and trembling for
just a moment before Amu’s presence overcame the fear that still circled his
heart.
When he parted his lips, tongue begging entrance, she welcomed him. They kissed
until the teacups stopped spinning. Then, Ikuto got off and Amu saw him leave
the broken little boy who had never been able to get off the swiftly-spinning
ride behind.
She kissed him again.
The night passed slowly, but it was warm and deep. The stars twinkled overhead,
the Man in the Moon watching over them as they lay on the thick grass in the
park. Ikuto held Amu close, stroking her side and her hair and holding her
hand.
“Ikuto,” Amu whispered.
“Hmm?”
“I… I—” she cut herself off, a flush coloring her neck and cheeks to match her
rosy hair. “I have something for you,” she said instead.
He nuzzled into the side of her neck, pressing a kiss there. “What?”
Amu reached into her bra—the safest place to keep things she needed and
treasured like money or bandages or presents—and produced a small piece of
paper scented with her favorite perfume. “This… I, uh, I wrote it for you.”
Ikuto didn’t sit up, but remained pressed against her side with his arms around
her as he read the words she had written.
Then, since he didn’t react immediately, Amu spoke them out loud, “It’s
alright, just wait and see. Your string of lights is still bright to me. Who
you are is not what you’ve been. You’re still an innocent.” Then, she softly
repeated, “Still an innocent.”
Ikuto squeezed her close and his voice broke when he spoke. “Thank you,” was
all he said. Then, he kissed her again, deeper and longer than before, and when
Amu tasted salt on her lips, she couldn’t be certain who was crying.
Or maybe it was both of them.
A small eternity passed before Ikuto pried himself to his feet and fetched his
nearby violin. “I have something for you, too, Amu,” he confessed. “I wrote it…
a long time ago, back when we had to draw portraits of each other. I wanted to…
make it up to you. Do you remember?”
Amu’s soft giggle told him that she did, in fact, remember just how terribly
his portrait of her had turned out.
“I’m a musician, after all,” Ikuto said and pressed a kiss to the tip of her
nose.
Then, he tucked the violin beneath his chin and began to play. Amu could only
stare at him, her eyes welled with tears, as she listened to the beautiful
notes flowing from his father’s instrument. If she was half as beautiful as
this song… Ikuto’s eyes held hers while he played and she suddenly knew that
this was how he thought of her. This was her song and Ikuto… for as long as
she’d have him, he was hers.
He dropped to his knees, still playing, and whispered, “I love you.”
Amu could only nod desperately and throw her arms around him, cutting off the
final note when she passionately kissed him.
                                     X X X
“It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die! So fluffy!”
I made a companion video of Blown Away and Shugo Chara to go with this story.
Please check it out! Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Ae1zUPSTFM
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** The Others *****
Other characters we want to hear from and assorted loose ends. I think this is
everyone and it sort of progresses through a sort of timeline.
                                     X X X
Bailey and Corvin Mashiro stood together at the threshold of their daughter’s
bedroom door. Faint light from the hallway crept into Rima’s room, falling over
her sleeping form like a loving and protective pet. The adrenaline had left her
and now she slept like the dead. Her face was smooth with sleep though a hand-
shaped bruise was slowly developing across her mouth.
Bailey pressed a hand to her lips, hoping to quell the lump that had lodged
itself in her throat. It did nothing to soothe her as she stared at her
sleeping baby. She couldn’t believe how some parents were—just couldn’t believe
it even though she saw it nightly in the Emergency Room.
How could parents do that to their children?
Beat them? Starve them? Rape them? Sell them?
It happened every single day.
It happened right in their neighborhood.
It happened to everywhere.
And yet…
People chose not to look. They chose not to see or help.
And because of the fighting and the divorce and everything, Bailey and Corvin
had nearly lost the most precious thing they had—their child, sweet Rima. What
would they have done if they had lost her? Would they have tortured the next
child they had with the memory of Rima as Amu had been? Would they choose only
to hurt each other? Would nothing at all have changed as if Rima was a goldfish
that had merely been flushed?
Bailey supposed she would never truly know unless something like that happened
to her.
And it had been so close.
She couldn’t believe how irrevocably tangled Rima had become in two dangerous
cases. Rima had been there, hiding from her fighting parents, the night Hoshina
Kazuomi tried to snuff out the lives of his step-children. He could have killed
Rima too. The bruises he left on her face were still dark and painful-looking.
God, it had been so close.
Hinamori Amu and Tsukiyomi Ikuto seemed like such nice children who never
deserved one-tenth of the suffering they had received. Just to think something
like that was so close, lurking in the shadows like a childhood monster. Bailey
had suspected that day Amu came to the ER with a broken arm, but she hadn’t
spoken up. She was too concerned with her own life and her own problems that
she hadn’t said a word. And then Rima had been there. God, she could have died…
Bailey sniffled again, unable to tear her eyes from Rima’s sleeping form.
Beside her, Corvin watched their child sleep as well. The warmth of his body
and the comforting scent of corduroy and Old Spice that Bailey had fallen in
love with seeped between them like an invisible knot. Though neither reached to
touch the other, unable to bridge the gap of lost love between them, they did
stand together in the doorway watching over their child.
As if she sensed her parents’ closeness even in sleep, Rima smiled.
…
If Alto were to meet Tsukiyomi Ikuto—the poor violated tortured child—he would
have smiled and told him that he had left the porn ring. And he would have
wished those words were the truth, but they weren’t and he doubted they ever
would be until his looks and his body became unsuited for the pornography
business.
All he would be able to tell Ikuto in truth was that he had left the group that
was willing to cross boundaries that existed for a very good reason. He would
never again find himself on the slippery slope of child pornography or snuff
films or ‘authentic’ rape.
In fact, Alto had left that group even before the police broke down the doors
and arrested everyone involved with Ikuto’s torture and rape. Sure, Alto’s face
was on the films just like everyone else’s, but there really weren’t any
credits on porn. (The credits with Ikuto’s name up in lights had been added by
Kazuomi just to torture the boy.) No one knew his name and he doubted they
would be able to find him. And if they did, he would take punishment for what
he unknowingly took part in, but he had paid his dues. As soon as he found out,
he helped Ikuto escape even though Hoshina Kazuomi had beaten him within an
inch of his life for it later. (1)
He needed the money that being in pornos brought him. He had a little sister to
take care of. He had to protect her, had to keep her clothed and fed. She was
so young, so small, and she looked to him to protect her from the world. Their
parents had never protected her, had never protected Alto either. Some of the
scars she had would never heal and Alto would never be able to escape the
things he had done to keep her safe.
But he had done what he could to save Ikuto. He had gotten the boy out of there
at great cost to himself. And, honestly, if he hadn’t, Ikuto probably wouldn’t
have survived the ring his step-father had sold him to. Ikuto probably would
have become nothing more than a snuff film after his body had been thoroughly
used.
But Alto had gotten him out.
At least he had gotten him out.
Even if he couldn’t get himself out.
Now, Alto sat on the couch in his ratty firetrap apartment with his little
sister. She was nestled against his side, playing with her beautiful princess
Barbie doll, while he watched the late night news. The last details of the
Hoshina case were wrapping up and such a scandalous case hadn’t made national
news since the torture and murder of Sylvia Likens. (2) This was going to get
people talking again. This would open their eyes to the bad things that went on
in the world right under everyone’s noses. This would make them see and help
and change. At least, that was what Alto hoped would happen.
With a heavy sigh, he turned off the television as the news anchorwoman began
talking about Meikyuu Butterfly’s new album that was completely filled with her
emotions about what had happened to her and her brother. Her latest single,
“Blown Away,” was topping the charts across the country.
“Alto,” his little sister whispered.
“Hmm?”
She looked up at him, the light catching the scar under her eye. “Why are you
always watching this?”
Alto smoothed back her pale hair and pressed a soft kiss to the scar his father
had carved into her face. He had similar marks on his arms, but the camera
loved those scars. He didn’t answer his sister, but he vowed one day he would
tell her everything that they had been through.
But right now, she was too young. And no child should be burdened with those
kinds of things—even though they often were.
Alto sighed again, squeezing his precious sister close. He thought of Ikuto, of
Ikuto’s sister, and wondered if Ikuto would wind up walking the same path Alto
did—unable to escape. He hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t be the case. But, if
the news had any shred of truth in it, it looked like Ikuto would be alright.
A soft smile curved Alto’s lips and his sister pressed a little sweet kiss to
his cheek as well.
…
As usual, Nikaidou Yuu couldn’t sleep. It didn’t matter that the night outside
his window was as dark and deep as a grave. His mind was wakeful, his heart
beating too hard to allow him to relax, and his eyes sprung open over and over
as if attached to a spring. Even though he was exhausted, sleep still eluded
him.
It was the guilt.
It gnawed at his soul like a rat caught in a trap.
He had suspected everything going on in the Hoshina household since that Friday
night when he had followed Utau home. More and more clues had come to him after
that, but he still refused to act. He had been afraid—no, terrified—of the
thought of losing his own worthless life.
But humans are all selfish. Even in doing something for someone else, they
wanted the gratitude of that person for having done something to help.
Even when Yukari found the courage to do something, he had convinced her
otherwise. His fear had paralyzed her. He had pleaded with her not to face
Kazuomi for the sake of her little brother, who only had her to depend on since
their parents’ deaths. And she loved her brother. She couldn’t risk putting him
in danger. And so, she hadn’t acted either.
Neither of them had done anything and it was all Yuu’s fault. And so, insomnia
plagued him more and more. It kept him up into the wee hours of the night,
forcing him to watch the late night news that plastered and repeated all the
details of the Hoshina case. It pounded over and over into Yuu’s mind and heart
that he was one of those worthless people who knew but did nothing to help.
And he had dragged Yukari down with him.
…
Yukari woke early and made breakfast for Kairi, watching the news as she
scrambled eggs to make omelets. The apartment was quiet now that Ikuto and Utau
had left. But no matter how she had pleaded and tried, she had been unable to
convince the children to stay with her.
She knew they knew that she had wanted to help them, but the fact of the matter
was that she hadn’t. And they knew that. Though both of them were too kind to
outright blame her or hate her for not helping them, they couldn’t find it in
their hearts to stay in her home. Deep down, she knew they feared she wouldn’t
help them if they needed it and that mistrust burned righteously.
Yukari wasn’t sure she would be able to look at their beautiful faces day in
and day out and know that she had failed to help such lovely children.
Besides, Ikuto had just turned eighteen—his birthday passing without incident
during the endless hours of court and psych examinations—and Kazuomi had no
will to speak of. The evil man had been planning on murdering his step-
children, not being killed by Hotori Tadase during a raging storm. Without a
will, all his assets were split evenly between family members and Kazuomi had
none. It was ironic, but Ikuto and Utau got everything—the blood money from
Ikuto’s porn, the corporation Easter, the house, rights to his dead father’s
music, everything…
Ikuto won custody of his little sister, more than able to care for Utau with
the money Kazuomi left behind.
Soon after, they both moved out of Yukari’s apartment and she was faced with
the sight of the empty couch where Ikuto had been sleeping and how she had
failed to do anything to save them. She was a coward, swayed by Yuu’s fear of
Kazuomi, but… she would have to live with the choices she had made. There was
no taking them back, no changing what had happened.
Now, Ikuto was doing his best to win custody of Hinamori Amu. After all, they
were thicker than any thieves and Ikuto could more than provide for the girl-
child.
Yukari had a feeling he would succeed in building this little broken family.
She wiped away a regretful tear and turned her attention back to breakfast.
After all, soon Kairi would be getting up and she wanted to do something for
her little brother to prove to him that she was a good guardian. She would
sacrifice her own life to save his—at least, she hoped she would if it came to
it, but she would never know for certain.
…
It seemed incredible to be going to school with the new child abuse poster
children, Ikuto and Amu, along with the famous singer, Meikyuu Butterfly, but
the world was often simple that way. After everything blew over, court cases
and mental evaluations and countless news stories, everyone returned to school
rather simply.
And Yamabuki Saaya watched jealously from the sidelines.
Oh, how she wanted Ikuto for herself. And Amu was such a pathetic little waif
that she would be able to steal him right out from under her, but she didn’t
dare. After all, Ikuto had always frightened her—like a big dangerous
panther—and after everything that happened, she wouldn’t dare cross those
people. They were… strange and maybe even dangerous, but the situation had been
dire in each case that forced them to act.
She heard that Amu had killed her own father and now her mother was catatonic
in the asylum.
Tadase had shot and killed Ikuto’s step-father at his uncle’s Planetarium.
Rima had been there that night, too.
Nagihiko and Nadeshiko, along with Kuukai, had saved Utau from being raped and
killed one night.
And Ikuto had escaped a child pornography ring, bringing down countless
criminals.
How much of that was truth and how much was just late night news hype, Saaya
could never be certain of, but she didn’t dare ask. Just as she did not dare
attempt to cross Amu and Ikuto’s relationship, even though it was scandalous
for an eighteen-year-old boy to be dating a thirteen-year-old girl.
Instead, as flawed as she was, she watched jealously from the sidelines and
wished Ikuto was hers.
She brooded jealously over the way Ikuto and Amu held hands, over the way they
embraced and how delicately Ikuto kissed her when he thought they were alone,
over the way they went home together, and spoke in soft voices, and laughed,
and cuddled, and just looked like a poster for romance.
Saaya watched jealously and wished that someday, she would find a love like
that. It was a love that people would write songs about, just like Johnny Cash
and June Carter. She hoped that someday, if two abused people could be that
much in love, she would be too.
…
Nadeshiko and Nagihiko would always be friends with Ikuto and Utau. After all,
they had know Ikuto what felt like forever, always waiting for him to come and
work the bookshop-café. Nadeshiko had always had her phone in her pocket or on
her nightstand, just on the off-chance that he were to call and need her help.
Nagihiko was just as prepared.
But Ikuto had never called for help for himself.
That was a testimony to just how strong he was. He would always take all the
horror and pain unto himself to protect those he cared about. Someday, in the
distant future, Ikuto would be a wonderful father and the twins hoped that they
would be that child’s godparents. That was all they really hoped for.
Not much could be done for Ikuto and they knew that.
But they knew that he understood that if there was ever something he couldn’t
take care of on his own and needed help in the middle of the night, the twins
would be there for him.
…
The stars of their small personal universe played on the walls. The broken
glass door had been mended and the doors were still open at all hours of the
night for people that needed aid and shelter. Some things would never change
and the comedy-club-turned-planetarium was one of them.
Tsukasa slid a milkshake across the bar of the Planetarium to his nephew and
then sat down beside him, asking once again, “Tadase, are you sure you’re
alright?”
“Yes, Uncle,” Tadase said with a sigh and a sip. “I’m fine.”
“That was a brave thing you did,” Tsukasa murmured. “I don’t know many people,
never mind children, who would have been able to do that.”
“I had to,” Tadase said. “He would have killed them and you know it. Everyone
knows it now.”
Tsukasa sighed slowly, his heart beating slowly. “I know, but Tadase, you’re so
brave,” he swallowed thickly, trying to find the words. “Your parents would be
so proud.”
Tadase tensed, but then let it out with his breath. He had accepted his
parents’ sudden death and was beginning to heal. “I know they would be.”
Tsukasa settled his hand on his nephew’s thin shoulder, giving it a soft
squeeze without speaking. Then, deciding that Tadase needed to enjoy his
milkshake in much-deserved quiet, he rose from the bar and moved away through
the universe around them.
Tadase’s soft voice stopped him. “Uncle Tsukasa,” he murmured, “I think I… want
to be a police officer. I want to help people and I want this place to stay
open. If anything ever happens, if anyone suffering like Ikuto and Amu ever
comes through these doors again, I want to be able to help them before it gets
to this point again.”
Silence spread between them. Tsukasa was stunned, unsure of what to say.
“Do you… think that’s a good dream?” Tadase murmured.
Tsukasa nodded, his voice cracking when he found the ability to speak. “Yes,”
he said, “It’s a wonderful dream.”
Tadase sipped his milkshake and gazed out the once-broken doors at the night
beyond.
…
Kuukai and Utau were sitting side by side, enjoying bowls of ramen. This was
their place, the place where they had met. And—in a few years—Kuukai planned to
propose to Utau in this very restaurant. Maybe by then he’d think of some cute
way to do so, but for now, he was just happy being with her. She finished her
bowl and waited for him to finish his before speaking.
“Kuukai,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked cheekily.
She slid him a look and then giggled. “Just, for everything,” she said. “I
don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d still have Ikuto,” he said.
She nodded. “But he has Amu now and I know the two of them are healing each
other’s souls. I see it in the way he looks at her and how she looks at him.
Those two… will never be parted,” she murmured and gazed into her empty bowl.
Kuukai swallowed. “Utau, I—”
She didn’t let him finish, simply leaned over and kissed him. He relaxed into
her kiss, wrapping his arms around her thin body like a castle. It seemed like
so long ago that all of this had happened, but he supposed it had started a
long time ago. How long had Ami been dead? How long had Ikuto been suffering?
Utau clung to him.
Even though he wanted to tell her how he felt, to speak those three little
words to her, he didn’t bother. He knew that she already knew exactly how he
felt and he sensed her feelings in her kiss just as easily as she read his
heart. Instead, he kissed her gently, hoping he conveyed one-tenth of his
passion to her battered heart. He felt her heal a little as he kissed her that
night.
                                     X X X
(1) Honestly, child porn is so deep underground that Alto probably could
slither out of going to prison with the director and everyone else if he wasn’t
around when they raided the place.
(2) The torture and murder of Sylvia Likens was the case that really opened to
doors to get people talking about child abuse. There’s a great (depressing)
movie about her called “An American Crime.” It’s where I got the idea for Amu’s
favorite ride to be the carousel. Check it out if you find time.
Questions, comments, concerns?
***** Epilogue: Love Conquers All *****
FINAL CHAPTER!
Time for a little love. Or a lot of love, depending on how you look at it.
Makimono-kun drew some lovely Fan Art for this story. Here’s a link, remove
spaces and stars: h*t*t*p*:*/*/* makimono-kun . deviant art . c*o*m* /gallery/
#/art/S-T-A-N-D-S-T-I-L-L-355489106?q=gallery%3Amakimono-
kun%2F19238765&qo=1&_sid=4363dad9
                                     X X X
Exhausted, Ikuto slumped down beside Amu on the new couch, kicking his sore
feet onto the coffee table. Was that paint on the bottom of his jeans? But he
didn’t care enough to scrutinize the stain. Instead, he wrapped his arm around
Amu’s slender shoulders and pulled her close against his side. She sighed
softly, fingers knotting on his shirt as she clung to him.
“It’s been a long day,” he murmured.
She nodded, too tired to speak.
Actually, it had been a long week. Despite everything, Ikuto had successfully
won custody of Amu. He, Utau, and everyone else had quickly gone about moving
Amu from her once-white childhood home into the Hoshina mansion. Then, with
Utau’s help, they returned Amu’s hair to its natural color. Once that was out
of the way, Ikuto was suddenly aware of just how much he hated the place he had
been tormented by Kazuomi. He’d wanted to burn it to the ground, but Amu and
Utau had managed to convince him otherwise.
Many hands made light work. Once again, everyone came to Ikuto’s aid and helped
him remake the mansion into a true home instead of a shadowed nightmare.
(Sometimes, he wondered how his life would have been different if he had merely
asked for help when he needed it, but he tried not to dwell on it.) They had
repainted all the walls, torn down the pictures of Kazuomi’s little family,
replaced Ikuto’s ruined bedroom door, and thrown out everything Kazuomi had
ever touched.
Then came Kazuomi’s bedroom—a place of such suffering for Ikuto—and no one knew
what to do with it. But Ikuto had a plan for the much-hated space. Instead of
walling it off or tearing it down, he decided to instead fill it with something
(or someone) that he loved. Kazuomi’s room, now repainted and filled with new
furniture, was Amu’s room. Sometimes, Ikuto still struggled to get through the
threshold, his mind filled with images of what used to be in that space, but
Amu would smile at him and everything became new.
“Ikuto?” Amu whispered.
“Hmm?” he asked.
She gently touched her fingers to his chin and he looked down at her. She
smiled faintly and lifted her head to kiss him. He returned her kiss
wholeheartedly, his arms tightening around her small body as if she would
disappear if he did not hold her so tightly. She clung to him, her lips parting
like flower petals to welcome him inside. After a moment of nervous hesitation,
Ikuto’s tongue slipped inside, brushing hers. She smiled as she kissed him, her
heart warming with his trust.
She made a soft happy sound, not unlike a moan, and her cheeks heated with
blood, but Ikuto didn’t allow her to pull away from him. He deepened the kiss
and she could feel his heart pounding against her palms. Gentle, tender, he
moved his mouth from her lips to the side of her neck to press lightly to her
pulse.
“Amu?” he murmured.
She nodded, clinging to him, as he lavished attention on her throat. She tilted
her head back, granting him greater access and displaying her trust in him. For
them, trust was a more important and more precious than anything. They had both
been betrayed deeply by people who were supposed to love and protect them—their
parents—but they had survived and they had each other.
Amu shifted, her slender legs straddling his waist, and she gasped softly as he
nipped the tender skin above her collarbone. He smoothed the area with kisses
and then suckled softly before nipping gently again. Her neck was so sensitive
and she had never been touched like this before. A small moan escaped her,
filling the silence.
She blushed hotly, but Ikuto only smiled.
For a moment, they sat in silence, listening to the quiet.
Utau was home, but she was taking a bath and they could hear music drifting
under the door. Utau wouldn’t hear them, but they were rather exposed on the
couch as they were. If she finished her bath and came out…
Amu’s flush deepened. “Ikuto,” she whispered.
He smiled, tucking her rose-colored hair behind her ear. Then, without a word,
he gathered her up in his arms and carried her from the couch. Amu wrapped her
arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, blushing furiously. She
tried not to think about how he was carrying her bridal-style, about how strong
his embrace was, or about how she felt safe and precious in his arms. He
pressed a kiss to her temple, jolting her from her daydreaming, and she
realized he was standing in front of her bedroom door.
His fingers tightened, convulsing softly, and she covered his hand with her
own. “Ikuto,” she whispered, “It’s alright.”
“I know,” he murmured and then nudged the door open.
The room was beautiful now, feminine, and the walls were painted blue like the
sky. Amu’s favorite books and treasures had found homes here. There wasn’t a
single trace of Ikuto’s step-father left inside. The past was the past and the
future was something to look forward to.
Ikuto closed the door with his foot softly and crossed the room, lying Amu down
on the neatly-made bed. She cupped his face in her hands, meeting his eyes,
before kissing him again. He pressed into her desperately, his mouth and hands
clinging to her. She soothed him, her hands ghosting up his back and pulling
him flush against her body. He breathed out jaggedly and then relaxed, his
kisses becoming tender and slow.
“Ikuto,” Amu whispered.
“I know,” he said to her softly. “I know.”
Silence spread between them, broken by Utau’s distant music and the sound of
running water.
“Amu,” he whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He kissed her and Amu took that moment to gently cup his behind. She felt him
tense, but he didn’t pull away. He broke their kiss softly and looked into her
face. It looked as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t decide what to say. Amu
softly squeezed his bottom, keeping her touch soft, but imagining she felt
scars beneath his jeans on his tender flesh. For a moment, what he had been
through hung in the air, palpable and still so raw.
Then, Ikuto let his breath out slowly and nodded.
Amu smiled.
Slowly, tired from a long day of working on the house but also timid despite
himself, Ikuto let Amu undress him. She lifted his t-shirt over his head, her
fingertips feathering over small scars that lined his torso. The bruises had
all faded by now, but light scars remained. Bracelets of small pale scars
circled his wrists from the few times he had been restrained and desperately
tried to escape the bonds. Once, he had been bound in this very room and taken
by Kazuomi. Then, Amu had found him there, used like that, violated and gagged
and naked…
Ikuto shook his head to clear the memories, cupping her face and kissing her to
remind himself that she was there. He wasn’t in the past anymore. He would
never have to go through that again.
Amu guided his hands to her own shirt and smiled at him a little weakly as he
peeled the gauzy (if not a little paint-splattered) blouse over her head. The
scars on Amu’s body were far worse than Ikuto’s. Jagged scars ran over her
shoulders and back. They raked across her belly, circled her ribcage, and
mapped out the long life of abuse she had suffered since her little sister’s
death. He could feel bone scars beneath her skin, his fingers smoothing over
each injury softly.
The scar on her arm where the bone had been shattered right through her skin
was star-shaped and he pressed his lips to it.
She unfastened her bra and let it slide down her arms. For a moment, she hid
behind her hands, wondering if Ikuto had ever been with a girl instead of men,
but she pushed those questions away. There would be a time for them to both
talk about things like that, but this was not it.
Gingerly, Ikuto palmed her small breasts, smiling softly when she shivered with
pleasure beneath his touch. She was a virgin to gentle touch like this and even
more so with the sensuality of his caress. He kissed her collarbones, but
didn’t move further down her body.
Amu ran her hands down his sides, lightly touching his hips. She curled her
fingers around the bones, seeking permission before moving further.
After a moment, he nodded.
She unfastened the button of his jeans and lowered the zipper, tugging gently,
but he had to help her pull them all the way off. Like his wrists, his ankles
were circled with light scars, but his most abused paces were still hidden by
his underwear.
Amu rose onto her knees and helped him to unfasten the buttons of her pleated
skirt. She shimmied out of it and put it aside with her blouse. In only her
panties, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed into a tight embrace. His
naked skin was warm against hers and he could feel all her scars. She trembled
against him and he wrapped his arms around her like a castle. No one would ever
hurt her now that she was with him.
Amu nodded. “You either, Ikuto. I’ll protect you,” she whispered.
He wasn’t certain he had spoken aloud, but she was right. He kissed her again,
their tongues tangling in a passionate dance after everything they had
suffered. This was rebirth, this was cleansing, this was their love, and it was
a new life.
Together, they stripped each other of their last garment of clothing.
Completely naked, they held each other for a long moment, hearts pounding as
one. Ikuto’s breath was soft, but uneven, and Amu stroked his back. She knew if
he was able to do this with her, it meant he trusted her more than anyone else
in the world and it was the same for her. She would let him into the tenderest
place in her body and trust him never to hurt her.
“I’ll be gentle,” he murmured suddenly. “I know that it’s… your first time.”
Amu nodded, tears pricking her eyes. She would be gentle with him, too, even if
it wasn’t his.
He laid her back against the pillows, fingertips ghosting down her chest to
lightly wrap over her hips. She let her hands rest on his bottom, curling
gently around his behind. They each took a deep breath and then leaned in,
kissing with every emotion they had in their bodies.
It was trust and pain and love and joy.
Amu parted her legs, curling them around Ikuto’s hips, and she moved her hands
up his back, holding him tightly to her. His desire for her was firm between
them, bumping blindly against her belly. She closed her eyes and took a deep
breath. Then, she opened her eyes and looked right into his and smiled.
Ikuto gently cupped the moist heat between her thighs, exploring with his
fingers. When he found his mark and slipped one long finger inside her, she
moaned softly and clung to him tightly. This was something she had never felt
before. She felt the missing piece of her heart now, felt it shuddering like a
bird against the jagged edge, and she knew that once Ikuto was inside her, that
broken piece would cease to exist. With this, she would be whole.
And so would he.
Ikuto felt the barrier of her virginity just inside her and took a deep breath
to calm his jagged nerves. He knew he would hurt her when he entered, but he
didn’t want to. God, he never wanted to hurt her. What if being with him was as
painful for her as being with his step-father had been for him? His heart
knocked painfully against his ribcage, threatening to break him into pieces.
“Ikuto,” she whispered.
“I… I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathed.
She held him close. “I know it will hurt a little, Ikuto,” she murmured. “But I
want this. I want to be with you. Don’t you want this, too?”
He hesitated. Should he lie? Was she going along with this for his sake only?
But he looked into her golden eyes and saw her heart there. He saw her smile
and he knew that she wanted this just as much as he did. “Yes,” he murmured.
She smiled and kissed his lips gently before laying back against the pillows.
“Go on,” she assured him. “I’m ready.”
Ikuto aligned himself with her core and pushed forward a little. Her smiled did
not waver, even as the tight heat of her body began to pull him in. He felt her
muscles stretch and then met the barrier inside her. She traced her fingertips
across his shoulders, knowing this was harder for him than it was for her. He
didn’t want sex to be painful ever again, especially for her, especially for
him.
“I love you,” she told him, threading her fingers through his dark hair. “I
do.”
He nodded, hearing her unspoken wish, and pushed into her in once quick thrust.
Her muscles clenched down on him, tightening around the intrusion inside her
body, but she didn’t cry out at all. In fact, her smile never wavered. She
tipped her head back, exposing her throat to him, and moaned softly.
“Amu,” he whispered. “Did… did it hurt?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said honestly. “You were so gentle, Ikuto. It
didn’t hurt at all.”
He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Really?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she said. Then, she clasped her legs around his hips and
kissed him. Into his mouth, she whispered, “Now, please move. I want to feel
you, all of you.”
The pain and fear in Ikuto’s heart emptied. When he kissed her again, she
tasted nothing but happiness and love. Then, he slid out of her to the tip and
she nearly cried out at the loss of him, but then he sheathed himself within
her to the hilt again. She moaned something that might have been his name and
he smiled, leaning down to kiss her. She clung to him, unable to do anything
but feel, and he gave her plenty to feel.
He moved within her, gently and slowly at first, taking his time and making
sure she was enjoying everything. But as he muscles began to relax and welcome
him, clutching at him as he tried to pull out, he quickened his pace. Her small
breasts bounced as he thrust into her and she couldn’t even gasp his name any
longer. She just clung to him, panting, her breath gusting past his ear with
each thrust. Her small hands moved down his back, clutching his hips and
buttocks, but he didn’t once think of the past.
He thought only of her, of how much he loved her.
He felt his orgasm build in the pit of his stomach and, for once, shame did not
follow it. It was only love and pleasure, but he pulled out of her small body
and milked his seed into a tissue. He knew how troublesome it was to have one’s
insides coated with seed. It was damp and sticky and tended to drip out rather
terribly. He didn’t want Amu to feel that, not right now.
“Ikuto,” she gasped once he had laid down beside her again and gathered her
small body up against his naked chest. “That was wonderful,” she told him.
He kissed her temple lightly. “I didn’t know it could be like that,” he
murmured softly.
Amu intertwined their fingers and gave his hand a tight squeeze. “I love you,
Ikuto.”
“I love you, too,” he whispered.
Then, exhausted, they both fell into a deep and peaceful sleep without even
bothering to get beneath the covers of Amu’s bed. A warm breeze blew in through
the half-open window and crickets sang outside as the sun descended behind the
tree line.
   “I strongly believe that love is the answer and that it can mend even the
                            deepest unseen wounds.
 Love can heal, love can console, love can strengthen, and yes, love can make
                                   change.”
                                 ― Somaly Mam
                                     X X X
And drum roll, please, we are finished!
First, drop me a review and let me know what you think. Loved it? Hated it? Are
scarred for life by the thought of things like this actually happening in our
world?
Second, I own nothing except my plotline and my original characters like Alto
and his little sister. So now I can’t be sued!
Third, there will be NO SEQUEL… so don’t ask!
Fourth, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! The Breaking of Poisonwood by
Paradise Avenger. (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a
slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new
life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when
Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior…
Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we
discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to
his advantage. The Poisonwood—)
Finally, thank you for making it this far! All the way to the end! Woot! Yay!
Questions, comments, concerns?
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!