HIROSHI: Truth And Illusions

Ch 2: Last Night At The Estate, Pt 2

*** I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my big sister LaPonda, who deeply inspires me by overcoming so much suffering in life, like my main character Hiroshi. Just like him, she is gentle but strong, and can overcome everything. She has been a pillar of strength for our family for years and has helped me when I couldn't help myself. I love you! ***

The attic heat was oppressive and suffocating. It smothered him like a heavy wool blanket. Sweat poured off his skin like water rolling off a duck's back. He found himself constantly wiping his forehead. His dry tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, made him consider licking his own sweat.

Hiroshi laid Mayu on the floor and looked around. It smelled like fresh timber up there. He saw the arching ceiling with exposed rafters and roof planks. He moved closer, touching the grain of the wood and listened. 

Just on the other side of this, is the cool night's air and rain. 

The thought of filling his lungs with the crisp air and feeling the tingling sensation of cold rain drops on his skin, caused him to exhale deeply. 

Upon closer examination of the wood, he bit his lip out of frustration and shook his head. He discovered that the planks were made out of chestnut wood; a super durable wood that's harder than most oaks. It would be quite difficult to break.

He scavenged through the attic stuff piece by piece, looking for anything he could use to break the wood with, like an ax. After an exhaustive search, he dropped the last thing he had picked up, unable to find anything useful.

A rattling noise near the stairwell got his attention. He quietly scurried over there wondering if imperial guards were coming in. He almost didn't want to look. Peering down the stairs, his eyes widened at what he found! Yellowish flames flickering through the cracks around the door! 

Raging flames walloping the backside of the door, made it shake and rattle. He backed away slowly, holding his breath, trying hard to suppress the flurries in his stomach. He crouched down against the wall, gazing at the floor. Hiroshi's extensive training rid him of almost every fear known to man, even death. But somehow  missed the one, that's been tormenting him for years.

The yellow flames took Hiroshi's mind all the way back to childhood, a few days before his sixth birthday when his clothes were dirty and tattered. His hair was wavy and unkempt. He was busy that afternoon digging away in what used to be his mother's garden. 

His father staggered in through the front door, looking equally unkempt, mumbling, "Oni. Oni! Where are you?"

Oni was what his father called him, meaning demon in Japanese. 

A few steps into the room, he stumbled on a toy, and fell on his face. He slurred, "Look at this dirty place! You never clean. Oni! Oni! Get in here!"

Eventually he found little Hiroshi outside digging in his wife's garden. Hiroshi stopped moving when he smelled alcohol nearby. His chest tightened. He wanted to look up to confirm it was him, but his eyes remained fixed on the dirt under him. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest and head.

With flaring nostrils, his father growled, "How dare you..." Glaring at him with his tomato red eyes, he shouted, "Get up from there!"

The boy cringed as his father stormed towards him. Hiroshi shut his eyes tight and raised his small forearm over his face. His father grabbed a handful of his dusty hair and pulled. Hiroshi's toes barely scrapped the dirt on his way to the house. His small face grimaced in pain as he cried. 

Like a pile of garbage, he dumped him by the fireplace. Then he took his boney knuckles and repeately whacked the boy on his head. The blows popped on Hiroshi's skull like two rocks knocking together. He flinched and screamed until his vision blurred and he was overcome with numbness. Eventually, his small body just laid limp on the floor.