𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 • k. ayato

38

☄. *. ⋆

Asahi imagined a lot of things. That he wound shine. That he'd be good. He would dwell bareheaded on a summit turning a wheel that would turn the earth and undetected, amongst the clouds, he would have some influence; be of some avail. But this was not the influence he had been hoping for—this was not the life he had been dreaming of.

His room swallowed light whole. Even in summer when sunlight glared through the windows, it was somehow dim inside. Now it was only morning, and the muted sky offered scant relief to his tenebrous room. On the side of the house, a gnarled and ancient sakura tree spread its reach across the back facade of the house as if to shade and protect him. Standing near a window, he gazed longingly at the once-beautiful tree. Its many shades of pink never ceased to amaze him, never. It has always been his favourite thing. His refuge.

He thought of how his father introduced him to this great tree. Ever since then, he did not realize how fast his father's hands got wrinkled. There was no way he would have, as his father had never once held his hand.

But nowadays, it seemed to be falling from grace. Growing old—growing unsightly. Just like his father did.

Holding in a sigh, his tired eyes shifted around his chambers. Cloths of white were sprawled over every piece of furniture, over every mirror that once terrified him. He recalled, how at some point, he had begun avoiding his gaze in the mirror; he had no interest in learning what it was like to meet his eyes.

Come to think of it... he had no interests at all. He had no interest in anything. He had no idea how he would escape this. At least his sister had some taste for life. She seemed to understand something that he didn't understand. Perhaps he was lacking? It was possible. He often felt inferior. All his life, he just wanted to get away from everyone. But there was nowhere to go. And suicide? Just more work, more effort he had no energy to put in. He wished he could just sleep. Sleep. Sleep, and sleep. Forever.

Gazing at the maid who was pouring him a cup of tea, he clicked his tongue. She was smiling. Why was she smiling? Coming into his room, no one else but her had the audacity to smile. If she knew what he'd been doing, would she still be smiling? For a while, he had wanted to kill her, but even with all the threats and harsh words he would spew at her; she did not stop smiling.

And when she didn't run away, he had hoped she would die of old age. But once again, she kept on living. Her hands were shaking, and she looked as old as time, but she was smiling. She was but a servant, an expendable pawn, but how come she was always smiling, and he wasn't? What in the world made her so happy to be alive?

"Dear Asahi, what's the matter?"

Even her voice was frail and old, and ugly. So what was she doing worrying about him? And to call him so casually... This woman truly didn't know her place in the world.

"Nothing's the matter. Stop bothering me now," he walked up to the little table where the cup of tea sat, taking the cup in his hand and bringing it to his mouth.

She slowly brought her hand to her cheek, "Now, now... You can talk to me."

He glanced at the woman with a glare. This was a usual occurrence. She was always pestering him and fearing for him when she should be living out the rest of her days somewhere peaceful and quiet. But no, despite his attempts to send her away she kept coming back.

Upon her refusal to leave, Asahi insisted, "Nothing's wrong. Go."

He heard a chuckle escape the woman's lips, "Now. Do not lie to me, young man. I have watched both you and your sister grow up. I've fed and taken care of you. I can tell when you're lying."