He feels the type of unbridled anger that makes him do things he normally wouldn't. It makes him say things he shouldn't. He's never been able to put a lid on it. He never did learn to harness those emotions that cripple his very being, that make him fume, and visibly shake with anger.
Anger. There has to be another name for it because he's getting pretty tired of that word. It's what drives him into a frenzied state. He becomes unrecognizable. He loses control. His mouth forms words fueled with rage. He acts aggressively. He wants to cause harm. It's almost like he's been possessed.
Some would say it's a bad thing to be this way, to let an emotion dominate you. To Akio, it just means that he's a little fucked in the head, which is a thought he keeps to himself. But it's not always a bad thing. Sure, he often regrets lashing out, especially when he lets loose on someone he cares about, but there are times when it's justified, he thinks. Or maybe those type of actions are never justified and he just likes to make excuses. Akio has always been good at that : excuses.
The anger is not only an outlet to release those pent up emotions that will make him explode sooner or later. It's also a protection. Like a shield. He can't confront what is happening. He can't confront the sadness of it all.
How will the tears feel? The answer : They will burn his eyes, drench his face. He can't allow the sadness to worm it's way into his heart. He does not know what will happen.
So anger protects.
His hands occasionally spasm ... because they want to destroy. His current predicament, however, makes it all a bit ironic. Because right now, even though that very same anger is coursing through his veins, his hands are caressing their way through his wife's silky hair. She cries while he tries to comfort.
It's late in the night when Nana finally breaks down. Matsuko is asleep by then. They've told her a bedtime story, a quick one, given how spent they are from today's events, and have bid her goodnight. Now, when they are alone, Nana is allowed to feel, to react. She will never let her daughter see her in such a state.
The wind blows softly. The darkness the night brings would be overpowering if not for the inky blue beams that wash over the tatami room, courtesy of the crescent moon. Through the large open window, both husband and wife stare up at the star-speckled sky from their curled up position in bed.
