The Beauty of Imperfection

Chapter Six

Mother did join us for dinner.

I watched her from the corner of my eye. She was twitchy, quiet, and kept looking over her shoulder. I narrow my eyes, but when Hideaki coughs lightly I look away and return my attention to the soup being served.

Father talks about the company and numbers and potential threats and I nod and smile, adding a comment here or there. It was during a lull in conversation when my mother spoke.

"You left, Fuzen," my mother said coldly.

My gaze shoots to her, then I scan the table quickly. Father was watching the two of us while Hideaki simply studied the meal before her, carefully selecting a piece of duck to eat. Okay then.

"Yes," I reply lightly. "I learned much during my travels."

Mother's glare doesn't lessen and I feel my skin crawl; her eyes reminded me far too much of the times when she would suddenly snap, anger filling her and pouring out at me. I take a deep breath in and let it out. She couldn't hurt me. I could leave whenever I chose. Hideaki and I lived across the village. She was my mother.

"You abandoned us," and I find myself very surprised by the slight waver of hurt under the anger in her voice. "You abandoned this family. Me."

Irritation and astonishment fills me. Seriously? But I don't act on the emotion, simply stating, "I came back."

My mother is staring at me and I can tell that it's coming: that explosive anger that still haunts my dreams. But before anything can happen my sister suddenly stands up, rattling the table. She's staring out at the window. I glance over and see a hawk.

Hideaki bows to Father. "I apologize," she murmurs. "But it seems as though this dinner will have to draw to a close early. I've been summoned for a mission."

Father nods. "Very well. It seems time that your Mother retires, and I must return to my study to finish up several transactions. Goodbye, Hideaki. Fuzen." He gives me a slight nod and I'm baffled by the acknowledgement before remembering to bow in return. Hideaki turns to leave and I join her, hurrying from the house.

"I probably won't be back tonight," she informs me. "Sorry, seems like you have the apartment to yourself."

"Don't worry about it," I reply, then glance up at the sky. "Stay dry. Seems like it's going to..." I glance back down only to realize that my older sister is gone. I laugh slightly. "Rain." I stand just outside the gate for a long moment before deciding to go visit Sensei.

The hospital corridors are becoming far more familiar than I'd ever wanted them to. When I poke my head into the room, Sensei isn't there. He's not on the roof, either, and finally I'm forced to ask a nurse where he might be.

She shrugs, a smile easily leaping to her face just at the mention of Sensei. "Honestly, we sort of turn a blind eye to when he disappears, so long as he returns every night," she responds. She must see my face fall, because she adds, "Maybe check the playground or the park? Sometimes he goes and plays with the children."

I nod and somehow it's not strange at all to think of Sensei playing with children even though he has to be nearly twenty now. I was sixteen, I suddenly thought with surprise. It seemed so old.

Sensei is at the park, playing ninja with children. His tall stature stood out among the shorter children, who hung off of him with adoring looks on their faces. A smile spreads across my face at the scene, although it falters slightly as I glimpse the colorful plastic hospital band around his wrist: a painful reminder.

I snort at the irony of Sensei, one of the strongest ninja I had ever met, simply playing ninja with these children, who weren't even out of the academy. I sit on a park bench and watch him for several minutes, but he shows no signs of tiring or ending the game, and somehow I can't bring myself to stop it when he looks so happy. So I leave, turning away and letting him have this moment.