[30 hours remaining]
"Asuka, take your sister and go for a walk." My mom ordered as she got up from the floor.
"No, mom. I'm not leaving you here with them."
"So, you're Asuka?" The man spoke with a voice as cold as his appearance.
Turing back to him, I asked, "What do you want?"
Looking down on us, and sitting in the sofa like he was king, he crossed his legs.
"I'll get straight to the point. I'm looking for Mr. Ito."
Hearing who he was here for, my body became tense in anger. "Then I think it's best you leave. That man left this house six years ago and hasn't been back since. Look for him elsewhere, because you won't find him here."
Listening to my answer the man chuckled, "That man?"
He then placed his hands on the handle of the sofa, uncrossed his feet and got up. As he did this, I slid in front of my mom and sister, blocking them with my body.
I watched as the man walked up to me with one hand in his pocket; raising the other hand and placing it on my shoulder. I tightened my fists as a glacial feeling fell upon me when he lowered his head next to my ears and mumbled, "You know what Asuka, it's the hidden aspects of the past that makes the present unclear. Keep that in mind."
He then took his hand off of my shoulder and walked towards the door.
My already calming body then tensed up back as the man who stopped at the foot of the white painted board door opened his mouth and said, "Also, as for weather I'll find 'that man' or not; well we'll see about that."
With that he left the house and the two men who was in here with him, along with the men out front followed behind him.
Sure that they were gone, I looked at my mom who seemed to be spacing out.
"Mom." I called out to her, breaking her from her thoughts.
With a worried look on her face she took the hands of Akari and I and said, "Kids, let's move."
When we heard this both my sister and I shockingly chorused, "WHAT?"
"Mom what do you mean let's move?" Akari questioned.
"Yeah mom, where is all this coming from?" I let go of her hand and backed away. "No, I'm not going anywhere."
"Asuka." She sighed.
"No mom. What's this about?"
Akari then cut in, "Yeah mom."
"It's nothing kids. I just think it would be better to move somewhere else."
"Bullshit!" I voiced.
I looked at her who had nothing to say in return. It was then I realized that she was hiding something from us. Her trembling voice whenever she spoke said it all.
"Mom, tell me; What are you hiding from us?"
"It's nothing. Just go to your rooms and begin packing your things."
"Mom do you even care about how we feel about this?" Akari asked in a very sad tone, as she left to her room. This was just Akari; she never fought with mom, no matter how angry or sad she was. I however, was the opposite.
"Mom, does this have anything to do with 'that man'?" I then questioned.
"Asuka I..."
I scoffed, "Figures. The minute that guy mentioned 'him' your mood totally shifted. Is he even worth doing this? What does he even have to do with this? He could be dead for all I care."
"Asuka don't talk about him that way." My mom's voice raised.
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because he's your father Asuka."
"My father? Ha right. He doesn't deserve to be called that."
"Asuka listen...."
My voice then trembled, and my heart ached, "That man, left this house six years ago mom, and hasn't been back since, much less call or send a letter. I was 11 and Akari was only 8. You want me to call him my father? Where was he, when I needed one? Where was he when you were struggling and working to the bone just to get our life back on track after he left?"
"Asuka, I get why you're angry, I do, but can you please listen to me just this once. I promise I'll explain everything later."
I then pleaded in a loud voice, "Why not now? What's wrong with explaining it now?"
"ASUKA!!...Just drop it." She shouted and ordered in a strict tone.
Ignoring her I continued. My eyes becoming watery with every passing word, "How can I drop it? How can I drop something that causes me so much anger and pain mom. Yes, I hate him. I hate him for saying he loved us then leaving without a word and I hate myself for hating him."
Seeing the state I was in, my mom walked towards me reaching her hand out in attempt to comfort me, but I stepped back away from her.
"Mom, please. I'm begging you, tell me what's going on."
She just stood there and looked at me without saying a word. The silence was like a knife being pierced into my chest. I clenched my teeth and fist, looking at her I then shouted, "I HATE YOU!"
Crying, I stormed out of the house, running down the dark street. Behind me, all I could hear were the echoes of my my mom calling out my name in dejection.
I kept on running without stopping as tears flowed from my eyes. I didn't know where I was heading to, or when I was going to stop, but in that moment as the wind lashed my face, I realized that the reason I was crying wasn't because I was hurt. It was because I was processing the hurt I tried so hard to ignore.
Caught up in my thoughts I didn't even realize that I had already stopped running. I looked around at my surroundings and before me I saw a bridge.
There was a willow tree next to the bridge on the other end; a few of its branches dancing in the lightest gust of wind would slightly kiss the surface of the water creating ripples.
The full moon behind the clouds made itself known as the water began to sparkle and shine. I slowly made my way up to the center of the bridge before coming to a stop. I looked over and into the water, watching the reflection of my flustered face above the red iron rails.
Wistfully I then chuckled, "I'm an idiot."
I thought to myself, was it really a coincidence that I ended up at a bridge. Now that I'm here, I don't know whether I should cross it, stay here or turn back.
I sighed and turned around, sliding my back down the rails. Bringing my knees to my chest I looked up at the bright moon. I closed my eyes as the fight with my mom replayed in my head.
'Why did I say that?'
'She must be worrying about me.'
'I need to apologize.'
All these thoughts were running through my mind. Without hope, I rested my head on my knees.
A while later, I was brought back from my thoughts to the sound of my ringing phone. While taking out the phone from my pocket I looked around wondering how long it has been since I left.
When I saw that my sister was calling me, I quickly picked it up, "What."
I listened to the shaking voice of my sister who sounded like she was crying.
"Asuka...It's mom."
(26 hours remaining)
AUTHORS NOTE: In Japan a bridge symbolizes traveling and transition from one state to another, or from one 'world' to another. Stepping on a bridge gives us a choice – either we cross it, we take time on the bridge, or we turn back. Red is an important color in Japanese culture, and in this case represents wisdom, transformation and all that is sacred. Red is also a color heavily intertwined with Zen, and so further encourages the individual to reject their attachment to physical things on their journey across the bridge.