Ping! then Voop! The dominant sound of the elevator door opening entertained the silence. They walked out and she stopped.
"I live in room 1098," said Kitsune then preceded.
She opened the heavy wooden door to a huge room, fancily decorated and fairly spacious. Adam tagged along still filled with uncertainty as to whether or not he was allowed to be there. Her silence worried him, but he had not the courage to say so.
"Thanks for taking me home," she said at last.
"Sure, it is trouble," replied Adam.
For a while now, he had been having a bad feeling. Some sort of fear gnawing within him. Every longer he spent around her, only one image played in a loop in his mind. A frightened girl, or rather a silent call for help. This was certain as he knew the normal Kitsune would never allow him to be in her house, let alone walk beside him.
"Tell me something Kitsune, why is it that you are afraid of your brother?"
Her silence was expected. She looked different with a frown, an unmotivated feel, and her dull eyes. It was the sort of eyes you see when a drowned man is pulled to a sea shaw. Seems like they see, but in reality, all they see is darkness.
"It's nothing, I should be fine tomorrow."
"I suppose so, but can I call someone, Akira perhaps, or Master Cain,"
"No don't call anyone," she said suddenly in a defensive outburst.
"But . . . As you are now wouldn't it be prudent to have a friend?"
"I said no!" she shouted surprising him, " I don't want them to know."
Adam was thoughtful for a moment. Then it struck him.
"I suppose you don't want your friends to know. But am not your friend. So Kitsune, tell me your story."
She looked up at him. He had a sincere look, a determined one.
"I hate my past," she said, " It's not something I hate to tell, it's just something I am embarrassed to let my friends know."
"Like I said I am not your friend,"
Her lips had a flimsy smile.
"Fine, but it's a long one, I'll make some cocoa."
* * *
"My days were always the same. My nights were always the same. I woke up at 4.00 am and slept at 8.00 pm. I had five light meals at precisely, 5.00 am, 10.00 am, 1.00 pm, 4.00 pm, and 7.00 pm. There were martial arts lessons, piano lessons, violin lessons, and foreign languages. I was raised to be perfect. But, no matter how hard you think about it, that life was boring.
My story is not the traumatic kind. Nor the kind that will appeal to your feelings or emotions. I don't tell it to others because it has no value at all. No lesson to be learned and no morals in the end. It has no morals at all, period.
I suppose it begins with my mother. My father Gai Yatagawa, am sure you know him, his name is not cheap, was in love with her. She was a British woman, blond and tall, and according to the pictures she had a weak constitution. She died having me.
Shinsuke, my elder brother was my stepmother's son. Well if you have figured it out by now, I was the concubine's daughter. When you walk around in a house, they give you this look, they want to tell you something, but they can't. I was used to it, I grew up with it, it was normal. I could only imagine how they were choking with envy as my father loved and did not them.
Let me tell you about my father. He was a stern man, business-oriented and rigid. He neither laughed nor smiled. He valued productivity above all, he was smart authoritative and he expected all his children to be the same. Well except for me.
Our relationship was not the perfect kind. I was still expected to behave as a Yatagawa. Take my lessons, but unlike the others, I did not find the life I lived to be challenging. But, if you do the same routine every day and night, it all becomes . . . Boring. Well, my boring life changed briefly when I met him. You could say, my first love."
* * *
The hyme of a violin echoed in the library. It was a beautiful piece anyone familiar with it would have stopped to listen. Kitsune, her eyes closed, played the piece with such passion. She didn't know why, but it felt good that day. She felt like she was in a stadium performing to an audience, and the audience loved it.
It was no wonder she was amazed when she stopped, a cheerful clap of praise reverberated in the room. She turned to a boy, or rather a young Asian man who stood between the shelves holding a book. He wore a black hoodie, a pair of genes, and sneakers. He smiled and clapped heartily. With a bit of a blush, she made a slight bow. They hastily started packing her violin.
"That was Caprice d'Adieu Opus 8, by Niccolo' Paganini," said the boy approaching her slowly.
"It is," she said.
"It was well done, especially by a girl your age,"
She laughed nervously. A feeling of embarrassment engulfed her. She could not look the boy in the eyes as she felt a little shy. It was the first time she had talked to anyone her age outside her family's events.
"Am Kokuro Hiroshi," said the boy.
"Ohashi Kitsune Yatagawa," she said lifting her violin case ready to walk away.
The young man stood in her way stopping her.
"That's a peculiar name, which one is your sir name, Kitsune, Ohashi, or Yatagawa?"
"It's Yatagawa," she said.
She then went on to explain how the mix-up happened. Her mother was from the United Kingdom, so she was a bit ignorant of the Japanese ways. She didn't Know that most Japanese had two names and the sir name came first. So, she named her daughter Ohashi Kitsune and Yatagawa came last. Her father did not want to change it.
"Ahh, I see, so your Yatagawa San's infimous daugter? People talk about you,"
"It was not to my knowledge," Kitsune said, still flustered but getting comfortable.
"Well, you're like a living legend, not many have seen you."
"I suppose, I have my father to thank for that,"
As she said that, the boy laughed. She was enjoying his company, he looked like a sophomore in high school, probably three or four years older than her. He was probably one of Shinsuke's university friends.
"Shinsuke is not in here," she said.
"Ohh no, am not close with Shinsuke in any way, I was invited by Yatagawa San,"
"My father?" she asked a bit surprised.
He then showed her a book he was holding. The book's title was "Titus Andronica" a play by William Shakespeare.
"Yatagawa san and I became acquainted in the National Library, I suppose by chance. I was returning an Old English play, and he was looking to borrow the same. We wound up talking about the book, he is rather fond of these old plays by Shakespeare."
"He does not intimidate you?" she asked.
"He doesn't, Yatagawa San is a kind man,"
Just then, Kitsune noticed a maid peeping through the door. She bowed to Kokuro.
"I apologize for my discourtesy, I have to be somewhere," she said.
He smiled and said, "I understand."
She found his smile different from the ones she got from the house. There was no malice behind it, no hidden message or thought, it was just that. A smile. It made stop and turn, then asked.
"Will you be back Kokuro San?" she asked shyly.
"I will," he said, "and just call me Hiroshi,"
She smiled and ran off out of the library. As she did, she could not help but feel her heart race, her hands tremble and her mood lighten. Then, her boring activities were now fun. No longer boring.
Hiroshi was a fascinating guy. She came to realize why her father was fond of him. He was brilliant, a gifted person with a humble background He played the piano, was good a student of economics, and a national champion in Karate. Simply, Mr Yatagawa had taken him under his wing as his protegee.
She recalled one of the conversations she had just had with him. One that stood out to her. He sat on a stool, and she had just finished her piece on the violin.
"Let me ask you something," he said.
He always said that before he asked a philosophical question. She put down the violin and sat on a stool adjacent to him.
"Why do you think people are buried after they die?" he asked.
"I suppose it's a ritual that has been happening for thousands of years. Let's say to honor the dead."
"That's a nice thought. Here is mine though, do you remember the concept I told you about energy?"
"That it can neither be created nor destroyed?"
"Yes, imagine the life a person has lived, imagine a famous person for instance died. All their achievements and influence are like energy. When they die, the act of burying them is to transfer that energy to the people,"
Honestly, his words that day did not have much meaning to them. She only found them fascinating because he said them with such passion.
"I'd like my death to have meaning too. At least let me go out with a bang,"
"I think dying is overrated, I want to live forever and if I died, put me to the ground that same minute."
This comment led them to laugh. She always noticed his eyes squint as he laughed, he had those small Asian eyes completely different from hers. Hers were bigger, different. She liked his. And before she knew it she had leaned in and pecked his cheek, he looked up surprised, but by then she had already run off.
She didn't know it but that would be the last time she saw him again.
* * *
Shinsuke sat beside Kitsune. She played the violin, he was silent, his eyes on her fingers, the . . . as she pulled it against the string. She always felt a bit of pressure when he was around, and she blundered a lot.
"Am sorry, I will start over," she said.
"No matter little sister, I've heard you play before, when you were with the Hiroshi fellow, you were much better,"
"I will do my best," she said.
She took a breath, trying to get her mind into the zone but failed to.
"Brother, I have not seen Kokuro San for a while, I wonder if he is in good health."
Shinsuke was silent for a moment. He then looked up at her.
"He's dead."
Kitsune felt weak and woozy. Like her body would give in and she was falling. She submitted to the feeling and fell on a couch behind her. It was like a breath had been yanked out of her. She looked up to Shinsuke who had not moved nor said a word to her.
"How? I mean, he was just fine,"
Shinsuke rose and sat beside her. He pulled her closer hugging her. She embraced him and noticed her eyes getting watery. Shinsuke patted her head and as if it was the last stroke, the tears cascaded down her cheeks.
"Am sorry Kitsune," said Shinsuke.
"How did he die? Was it an accident?"
"No, it wasn't an accident,"
Kitsune pulled back from him. She looked at him with questioning eyes.
"He was killed, by father," said Shinsuke.
* * *
The hospital bed was cozy. Kitsune woke up feeling like he had taken a long nap, she felt energetic. Like a new person. There was the hospital smell she was familiar with, the smell of anticeptics and drugs. The mummers, she wasn't used to the noise.
"Glad you're back to the land of the living," said Shinsuke.
Kitsune then noticed her brother sitting beside her. He sat at a figure four a smile on his face. She was surprised he was able to smile. She knew him as the cold, distant brother who never said, "well done." She never cared either way.
He put down his book and interlocked his hands. He then leaned forward. She looked up, a feeling of helplessness ensuing her. She wanted him to go away. She wanted to be alone.
"I never expected you to be so . . . sinister little sister."
Kitsune grits her teeth and looks away from him. He pulled his chair closer to her bed and took her hand. She felt his grip, his hands were rough, but not too rough. A few blisters from lifting weights and his knuckles are like that of a boxer.
"You shook our whole family upside down in just three days. I suppose you are a Yatagawa."
Kitsune remained silent. Then said.
"Leave me alone,"
"Tell me something how did it feel?" said Shinsuke ignoring her.
She turned to him and noted the excited smile on his face. A sort of hope, or expectation. Something about it irritated her. She had a nauseating feeling.
"Won't you indulge me this once little sister?"
Kitsune sighed then said something in a sort of whisper. She then looked towards the walls.
"What? I didn't get you,"
Kitsune then looked at him, it was then he noted her expression . . .
"I said, I felt nothing . . ." her expression had not changed. It had the bored look of a lifeless person.
"Nothing?" asked Shinsuke gripping her hand so hard that she felt he would break it. "You crushed our market, burned down our house, poisoned the whole family at a family dinner, and tried to kill yourself. And you say you felt nothing?''
Kitsune looked up at the ceiling. She sighed and then looked at him.
"I thought I was insane," she said, "I was a sociopath at first, maybe even psychotic. But then it hit me. I didn't hate you, I didn't hate Father for Killing Hiroshi. I didn't hate my stepmom and the relatives for hating me. I didn't love them either. I just wanted you all to die."
"Why asked Shinsuke?"
"Simple, all of you are insane. Anyone who lives in that house any longer than they have to joins the insanity. I guess maybe that's the reason my father killed my mother. And you always hated Hiroshi because of a simple delusional complex I had noticed but ignored."
Kitsune then struggled to sit up straight. She looked at him, then pulled her hand from his.
"Honestly Shinsuke, I pity you."