8 Years Later
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Items flying, kids flying, and their children flying! If it wasn't nailed down, Mahito made sure it gained some air time. His two parents sighed. Mahito was truly a handful. Gerald, the father, had burned out years ago from trying to keep up. They had long since learned to let Mahito run his course.
Gerald subtly turned his head past his wife, his neck creaking painfully from arthritis, a result of always watching his back around Mahito. There was his son, Kouta, struggling for his life as Mahito tried to wrestle him to the floor. Kouta was on all fours, pushing with all his might to keep Mahito at bay.
"Hey!" Gerald called out, grabbing the attention of both boys. Mahito, still grappling with Kouta, stared directly at his father.
"Yes, Father? Is there something you need? I'm having a lot of fun with Kouta, as you can see."
"I'm not having any fun!" Kouta grunted, twisting and turning to avoid Mahito's hold.
Mahito chuckled, refocusing on Kouta. "Oh, don't say that! We haven't even gotten to the greatest part!"
With a sudden move, Mahito flipped Kouta onto his stomach, pressing his cheek against the splintering wooden floor and pinning his arm behind his back.
"Here's the good part!" Mahito declared as a malicious aura seemed to ooze from him, thick and purple like a toxic mist. It was almost tangible, radiating off him.
Gerald stood up abruptly, moving with a speed that seemed to defy his age. In one swift motion, he swept the legs of both boys, sending them tumbling into the air, spinning like tops. In the same fluid motion, he whipped his belt from his waist, looping it into a perfect O-shape. As the boys descended, Gerald struck them both in unison, delivering a sharp smack to their exposed backsides.
The two kids crashed to the ground, clutching their sore behinds. Gerald stood tall, securing his belt back around his waist.
"You two can play, but not in my damn house!" he barked.
"Yes, Papa!" the boys yelled in unison, their voices robotic from the shock.
Both boys shuffled to a corner, backs against the wall, glaring at each other. Mahito pouted, swinging his head away dramatically. "Kouta-san got us in trouble."
Kouta's shark-like teeth bared as he turned angrily toward his younger brother. "What do you mean? You're the one who got caught beating the brakes off me!"
Mahito glanced at Kouta, then burst into a fit of knee-slapping laughter. "My, my! Older brother Kouta-san, I was just joking!"
Kouta fumed for a moment before sighing loudly, steam seemingly escaping from his mouth. Despite their bickering, neither of them noticed Gerald getting ready. He threw on his patchwork jacket and glanced at Kouta.
"Come on, boy. We've got to work the curio shop."
Kouta spared a glance at Mahito. Though he loved his younger brother, everyone agreed that Mahito's personality was eccentric and overbearing for most people. Kouta leaped to his feet and ran to his father's side. Gerald cast one last look at Mahito, snickering as their eyes met, before slamming the door behind them.
CREAK!
Mahito barely noticed them leave. A demented giggle slipped from his lips, his eyes rolling toward the back of his head as he slowly turned to face his mother. Each step he took echoed loudly, the creaking floorboards announcing his approach.
"Moootherrrrrr!" he called, his grimy hands stretched out toward her.
His mother, Liane, shivered as sweat dripped down her face like tears. She could hear every step he took as he moved closer. Desperate to change the situation, she raised a hand to halt him, pressing her palm against his chest to keep some distance.
"Let's play a game, Mahito," she said, tilting her head and forcing a smile.
Mahito paused, his childlike body freezing as he placed a finger on his chin. His eyes tilted slightly toward the ceiling in thought.
"A game? We haven't played a game in a long time, Mother. I'd love a game!"
Sliding in front of his mother, he perched across from her at the coffee table, though it was too far on one side to sit comfortably.
"What shall we play then, Mama?" he asked, the word sending a chill down her spine. Her hands trembled as she reached for something under the table.
She pulled out a deck of cards, each one adorned with faces similar to traditional playing cards. As she spread them across the table, shuffling them, she explained, "Now, I'll explain the game as we go. My grandma used to play this with me when I was—"
Before she could finish, Mahito stuck out his hand in objection, gesturing with his other hand toward her. "Give it."
Liane hesitated. Handing over something precious to Mahito was always risky. His unpredictable and often violent nature made her wary. Holding the cards to her chest, she chuckled nervously.
"Oh, Mahito, you don't quite know how to shuffle cards yet. It's better if I just—"
"Hehe, give it," Mahito repeated, his childlike innocence persistent. He tilted his head and smiled, eyes closed in what seemed like a sincere attempt to be polite, but something about his aura was unsettling.
Compelled by something she couldn't quite explain, she handed over the cards, her heart pounding. Mahito took the deck, pausing for a moment. Liane watched, waiting for his next move.
CRUSH.
As expected, Mahito crumpled the cards between his fingers, ensuring the game would be anything but fun. Liane didn't even react violently. She simply bowed her head, shadows obscuring her eyes as humiliation washed over her. She wasn't sure what to say or how to feel, but one thing was certain: Mahito had made sure to observe her reaction while he destroyed the cards.
"Now, let's play a real game, Mama. A Mahito game," he announced, his voice laced with mischief.
Liane nodded silently, her eyes still hidden in shadow.
The dim light filtering through the cracked walls of the metal shack flickered across the small room, casting odd shapes on the floor. Mahito sat cross-legged on the ground, his mischievous grin wide as he explained the new game he had invented to his mother. She knelt across from him, weary but smiling, her hands resting gently in her lap. The room was sparse, filled only with the smell of dust and rust, but despite everything, a sense of warmth lingered between mother and son.
"Okay, Mama, here's how it works!" Mahito's voice was lively, almost too energetic for the quiet space. "I'm going to close my eyes, and you have to make a sound. Any sound. And I'm going to guess what it is!"
He squeezed his eyes shut dramatically, hands covering his face, though his sly grin still peeked through the gaps. His mother chuckled softly, shaking her head at her son's strange antics.
"That's a strange game, Mahito. Are you sure this is fun?" she asked, tilting her head.
Mahito peeked one eye open. "Of course, Mama! It's the best game ever. Trust me, I always make the best games."
His voice had that childlike confidence, but there was always something unnerving about the way he spoke—an edge that lingered just beneath his playful tone.
"Alright, alright," she relented, leaning back a little. She picked up a small tin cup from the floor beside her and gently tapped it with her finger, producing a soft, metallic sound.
Mahito's grin widened as he kept his eyes tightly shut, his head tilting in exaggerated concentration. "Hmm, that's easy! The tin cup!" He immediately opened his eyes, beaming with pride.
"You're too good at this!" his mother teased, though she couldn't shake the slight unease she felt. There was always something a little too sharp in Mahito's awareness of things, as though he didn't play for the same reasons other children did.
"Of course I am!" Mahito boasted. "Your turn now!"
Without warning, he lunged forward, grabbing her wrist in a playful attempt at wrestling. "Now you guess the sound I'm about to make!"
Before she could react, a loud "Pop." sound resounded as Mahito stared her dead in the eyes. Leaving the woman perplexed about what exactly had she just heard.
Slowly she glanced down to see that Mahito's figure was dislocated from the middle joint presumably down by the jester himself. Liane was revolted as she looked down at his finger her lip quivering as she spoke.
"Mahito, you can't hurt yourself in a game, it can't be fun if you do!" she protested, reprimanding, though the strength in his hands was a bit more than she expected as she wouldn't budge when she moved for his hand.
Mahito abruptly let go, rolling back into a sitting position, as he glanced down at his hand particularly the finger that wasn't even the sound he intended to make lifting from a sitting position caused it but he just went along with it.
"oh really why not Mommy?"
Mahito inquired as he inspected his finger. His mother rounded to the table quickly clasping his hand in her larger ones as she moved to correct it once more "No game can be fun when people get hurt Mahito"
Mahito had no audible reaction as he flashed glances from his hand and his mother "But you didn't guess my sound." Mahito's mother slowly looked up at the latter
"and because of that, that's I won!" he declared, raising his arms triumphantly like a king celebrating his conquest, despite his dislocated finger he seemed bothered as he yelled. "Nobody can guess Mahito's sounds!"
His mother's reaction was slow as she slowly looked him in the eyes and reaction, all she could do was shallowly smile and chuckle with the latter, though the strain of keeping up with his relentless energy was starting to show. She exhaled, her breath tired and slow.
"You always win, don't you?" she murmured, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
Mahito's eyes glimmered as he allowed her touch for a moment, before pulling away, that slight, unsettling smile returning to his face.
"Of course, Mama. It's no fun if I don't."