Italia

23.

Curve in black and white ink strokes; this, the portrait piece that situates itself on the walls, artistically molds into the story of a native Japanese love story.

Perfection. It sprinkles gold dust across the aspect. My gaze sinks deep into the content and thoughts of my grandmother; her authentic work stood before me whilst glistening with the sunset that seeps it's way through the floor-to-ceiling windows beside me of the restaurant Tokyo Kato.

Inhaling deeply, the temperature dropped from the previous rain. My identity hidden.

With the coverage from my hoodie, it drifted over my head and dropped down over my eyes. A shadow effect from the material illuminated the surface top of the table I was sitting around.

Though my eyes sank into the formation of such lovely art piece.

I couldn't think about anything else. Though my fingers were numbed and the pulsating sensation thickens throughout. Just at the forefront, the conversation with Elio dominated my mind.

Riku was the murderer of Keiko Kato. My granny?

I chuckled and pulled it back suddenly. I tilted my head to the side, the tips of my dry, bloody fingers tapping on the surface as I drifted back into the seat.

Elio was a very persistent brute, I tell you that. Although I, a fugitive, as he gracefully described me, disagreed with his terms of "protection."

He then provided me with an intel that had me stunned. An intel that he knew would have me second guessing. Although I didn't show him my reaction. He knew he had my interest when he was able to touch my shoulders.

The real question that you should be asking is why would my dad, Riku, kill his own mother?

What was the need?

The cause?

He was her only son.

Keiko was a go-getter. A woman who carried the world on her shoulders just so that her son could be protected. I experienced this firsthand.

After all, she was the one who adopted me when my own flesh and blood wouldn't.

I slipped a hand into the pocket of the jacket, my knuckles grazing against the brass surface of the USB that he gave me.

If what he said...

I shook the thought away just as it came. My frame paused for a bit as citrus hovered over the atmosphere; it sank within, and ripped the very easy-going breath out of me.

The pain simmering through me halted just a bit at his presence. It soothes them away.

"Where's Sam?" I asked and as much as I didn't want to, my body shifted on their own as I drifted my gaze up to him.

His irises, hidden behind glasses, had the perfect combination of pale blue and gray. A dark forest green leather jacket surrounded his large frame, contrasting perfectly with the dark brown turtle neck shirt he had on.

Dark brown cargo pants gripped his lower form as he finished his look off with a pair of dark forest green suede desert Clarkes.

Though his black hair was messy, some strands perfectly dropped towards the tip of his slim nose, adding to his perfection.

They drew me in. The depth. The wonderful depth of his icy stare left behind chills that pulled me from this realm and tugged me painfully slow into a world of heat.

"Sam." Hoarse and deep drifted softly as it vibrated against the walls of my heart, initiating thuds.

"Couldn't make it."