Pure Imagination (Solo Leveling)

New York Cheesecake

TW: TW. There is mention of spouse and child abuse, so be cautious.

"You'll listen to mommy, right?" Feeble hands gently cradled a 6-year-old Yuki's cheek. Her fingers barely touching his skin, skimming over his smooth cheeks with cracked fingertips and bitten nails. Her pale skin looked tan next to his paper-white skin, reminding her just how different her little boy was. Large red eyes stared up at her with a vacancy that shouldn't be in any child's eyes. Looking at her like he was an adult who has witnessed the harshest things in life, and she was just some stranger.

He nodded his tiny head. His face was impassive and showed no expression even though she smiled. Matsuno Sayuri was once a beautiful woman. Her hair was once a dark brown that shined in the sun and danced in the wing gracefully, and her face was beautifully proportioned with almond eyes that looked sultry even without makeup. Some of that still held true at this point in time, only her hair was thinner and dull and her skin now had a greyish hue.

Sighing heavily, Sayuri bit her chapped and already chewed lips, disbelieving that she was going to say this to her child, "You need to tell them that you are happy. That your dad does not hit you or me, and that life is good even though we have so little."

"So, lie." Sayuri's jaw clenched, and her hands trembled against her child's skin. Yuki stared at her with little emotion, and the emotion that was there was disappointment. Her fingers gripped his skin harshly, no longer gentle and she squeezed. Her teeth gritted together and her eyes flashed dangerously, "You said you would listen to mommy."

Sayuri always had conflicting emotions with her son. She loved him at the oddest times and hated him the majority of times. She knew that Yuki knew about it, and she wasn't sure if the child even loved her. He didn't hold her hand, didn't smile at her, didn't seem to enjoy her company, and didn't look at her the way other kids looked at their parents. Yuki stared through her whenever those bloody red eyes landed on her, and at one point, Sayuri had to talk herself down from gouging those eyes out.

It was karma. It had to be. Why else would she bare a child with eyes as red as blood and with white hair that matched the shirt she wore that day. Yuki was a child that reminded her of her sins. A reminder of what she had done.

"You will tell that inspector that. If your dad gets thrown in jail, I will be deported. Mommy will go back to Japan, and you will be thrown into the foster system. Do you think they care about a little Japanese boy like you?!" Her voice shrill and fear radiated off her form at the thought of being forced to go back to her country. The country she fled.

Red eyes blinked slowly, like a cat that was tired of everyone's crap affecting their nap time. A smile quirked on his lips, "Go Gun Hee-nim said he'd make sure that wouldn't happen." Sayuri's teeth cracked from the pressure, and she threw Yuki to the floor.

"You ungrateful brat!" Before she could say, or do more, the sound of a heavy fist landing on their rusting door made her pause. Silence filled the small area as the weight of those knocks sat heavily on Sayuri's thin frame. Yuki, her son who wasn't really her son because he had to be her karma in the form of a kid, stared at her with no emotion.

"I hate you," Yuki whispered. He sat back up, grabbed his bag, and walked towards the door. He opened the metal slab, wide enough so the state of their apartment could be seen and to let light filter in. Garbage bags, filled to bursting, lined the walls, and flies from the takeout that has never been thrown away buzzed to life. There were stains on the floor, some from food, some from drinks, and some from the body.

Go Gun Hee's tall frame stood in the doorway, his eyes hard and face harsh as he stared at the hunched-over woman, whose eyes were peaking through her greasy hair. Yuki's tiny frame stood in front of the tall man, his bag in one hand and he only turned around when Go Gun Hee held his large hand out. A small smile on his small face, "See you Monday, mother."