Stories From Tokyo-To

Hello Walls

I broke free from my captor and rushed to Ojiisan's side. The guards on top of him backed away the second he went limp. They're faces were ones of panic and dread. I broke down, lifting my grandpa's head into my arms. I couldn't help but notice how peaceful he looked. I plead for forgiveness from him, hoping that he'd open his eyes and scold me for crying, but no. Nothing. My cries fell on deaf ears. The guards drew in closer, in hopes of helping me.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" I wiped the tears from my eyes and laid his head on the ground.

"I'm... I'm sorry, kid. I didn't know how hard my knee was–"

"SHUT UP! YA KILLED HIM! YA MONSTER! GRAAAAAAHHH!" All I could remember was me lunging at the remorseful man and with a thud, my vision went to black. I awoke in bed, confused as to why my head ached in pain. Could that have all been a nightmare? Is Ojiisan downstairs, making our breakfast? I rushed down the hall and jumped downstairs, only to find a house full of people adorned in black, and a shrine. A shrine for him. Surrounding the shrine were some of his favorite things: his favorite samurai movie, car keys, music, uniform, and finally his sandwiches. I was whisked away by some family members I've never seen before. They were weeping. Why? It's not like they made an effort to reach out to him, or made the time to visit. No, they're not crying because he's dead, they're crying because they have to.

I shoved them off and stomped my way upstairs into my room. Locking the door I ignored the knocks and attempts to open the door. I knew he would detest the idea of people in his house, let alone for a wake. After a while I headed downstairs to see if they've all left. Some did, as expected, but I also noticed some familiar faces. Members of the steel mill came to share their condolences, especially to me. Though I didn't shed a tear, I knew gramps would've appreciated their presence.

I felt someone behind me and turned around to see a scrappy looking kid with a messed up tie, probably around fifteen, he extended his hand. "Hey, The names' Zaiaku Tanaka. Sorry about your grandpa. He was a hard worker."

I shook his hand and turned away. "Thanks."

"Y'know my dad, he's in the hospital because of those Rokakku jerks! But, your Ojiisan, he was brave enough to stand up to them!" He was kind of freaking me out with how passionate he was getting, but what he said slowly started to make sense. "We gotta fight back! We have to make them pay!"

"But how?" I looked at him, perplexed.

"I have an idea, but I can't say it here, you need your time." He passed me a torn piece of paper with some scribbles. "Whenever you're ready, come to Kogane and meet with me." He walked off to his relatives as they waited for him at the door. Before I could ask anything else, he was gone.

It wasn't long before we headed into the city for a meeting. My relatives and I sat in front of a man behind a desk. The room was chilly and had an air of suspense. Family members nodded their heads or groaned whenever the man addressed them. Later I came to know this as a will reading. Then, it was my turn, and I had to snap out of the daze I was in as the man called my name.

"And to my grandson, Tōmorokoshi Rengō. I leave him my property in Shibuya along with all the contents found on said property. In addition, Tōmorokoshi will be eligible for a percentage of my earnings from summers he's spent with me."

My family was in an uproar. They hailed their protests at the executor about the will and what it states. He reassured them that this was written into the will by Ojiisan himself just days ago. When everyone settled down, I thanked the executor and stepped out of the office. My parents commanded me to stay but I simply walked out of the building and headed straight home. To my home.

I arrived only to lock the doors and board up the windows. His shrine, still in the living room as the portrait of him looked on. I lit the few candles there were and stood in front of him. In front of the man who was unjustly taken away from me. The man who raised me as his son, when my father couldn't on his own. I took his beanie off the shrine and held it in my hands. Tears began to stream down my face. I was brought to my knees and held his beanie even closer. In a shaky voice, I managed to speak my mind.