By: Chiki Yumeshisa
Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin...all original characters/ideas are mine to claim.
Warnings: none. Enjoy!
Chapter 5
- How Do You Solve A Problem Like Kenji? -
I flopped onto the couch, the next day. Luckily for me, it was a Saturday, which meant I didn�t have to go to work. I was, however, looking for a part-time job. Kenji had begun eating so much more nowadays, it was getting harder to provide for the two of us to live off my wages. Especially since I had to pay off his tuition, and his fines.
He was sitting in the basement, in front of the couch, morosely going through the channels. To my surprise, he was wearing a light blue golf shirt, the collar nicely pressed down, and a pair of khaki pants. His hair was up in a loose ponytail, a few strands of hair that came loose were tucked behind his ears. With the way he was sitting there, no one would ever believe that he was a little monster that was terrible when let loose.
The channels flew by, and lingered for a moment on a show where two people were kissing passionately. He switched it, to a karate tournament, and there it stayed. At least it hadn�t been a sumo match � I personally did not see the sport in that game.
After watching the brown belter deliver a roundhouse kick to the head of a black belter, I turned my eyes to the ad I held in my hands. They were looking for help in a retail store in the plaza close to my house. The only problem for me was, they preferred students. �Kenji, why don�t you get a job?� I suggested, turning the paper over. Maybe there was another ad�..
�A job?� He repeated, incredulously. �As what? A stocker?� He sounded disdainful of the idea.
�What�s wrong with a stocker?� I demanded, flipping the page again, as there were no more ads on the last one.
I got no response to that. Instead, he asked, �You really want me out of the house that much, huh?�
I folded the ad with a sigh. �No, it�s not that. I want you to experience what it�s like to work in the business field � and so that you realize fines aren�t exactly cheap.�
Kenji scowled. I smirked. �Think on it: it�s not like I�m forcing you to.�
He shrugged, absently tucking another loose piece of hair behind his ear. He suddenly spun around. �Dad, what does Kamiya-sensei tell you about me?�
I toyed with the red paper in my hands, and met his eyes with my purple ones. �She tells me the truth: that she�s worried about you.�
He didn�t seem to believe me, because he pursed his lips together in annoyance. �What else does she say?�
In my mind, I mused: it all had to be a dream too. Kenji and I hardly ever spoke to each other so calmly, and about trivial matters, such as what his teacher thought of him. I couldn�t help but wonder why he was so worried about her opinion. I leaned back on the couch, lazily. �She thinks that you have great potential, but you don�t live up to it.� This time, I decided to ask a question. �Why don�t you try, Kenji? What is it that you don�t like about school?�
His gaze had returned once more to the tournament, absently. His answer was long in coming, filled with anger and force. �I hate it when people tell me what to do.� A commercial came on, something about the newest shaver for men. I guess I was a lucky person: I never really had to shave, and I guess that�s what my father loved to tease me about.
�Even if it�s for your own good?� I asked.
�I don�t see how biology would be for my own good.� He muttered.
I shifted on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable with a sharp thing that poked me in the back. Glaring over my shoulder at whatever it was, I noticed it was a pencil that had rolled and gotten stuck and had gone unnoticed. �Well, why did you take it?�
�I had to. It�s a requirement to get to my next level.�
After much struggle, I managed to pull it out. �You know that there will be no next level if you don�t do something about your grades now, right?�
Kenji made a face at me. �Since when do you care about my grades?�
I felt myself shoot him a teasing smile. �Since I started talking with your?concerned teachers.�
�It�s only Kamiya-sensei.� Kenji told me, defensively. �Besides, what does she know? She doesn�t even know me!�
That much was true, but I could hear her concern for him whenever she spoke to me. She was probably the type who, had she been born in the medieval times, would have likely taken up a sword to protect and help all those who were in need. I decided to pull his mind away from things that upset him. �So��..then, what do you plan to be when you�re older?� I asked.
Nonchalantly he replied, �I dunno.�
His tone told me that the conversation was coming to a close. I leaned back down, putting my hands behind my head as I did so. �Well, perhaps I can find you another school that might interest you more.�
The television switched off, and Kenji got up. �Shit, why do you always try to control my life?� He demanded.
I blinked up at him. He had his hands clenched into fists. How did I manage to get him upset this time? I never got a chance to ask, because he stormed away, up the stairs, and into his bedroom, slamming the door.
He was almost as bad as a girl when she hit her monthly period and was having a bad case of PMS.
I closed my eyes.
How did you do it?
________________________
He came out at dinner time, taking his usual seat across the table from me. He was now wearing a black t-shirt and baggy black jeans. His hair was up again in its high ponytail. I was going to take a drink of my orange juice when I noticed something else.
Putting it down, I reached over and snagged his hand as he made to pick up his chopsticks. In surprise, he glanced up, as I peered closer.
Nail polish.
Black nail polish.
My blood was draining from my face, I could feel it. �W-what�s this?� I demanded.
He pulled his hand away, without a word.
�Since when did you start acting like a girl?� I demanded.
�Leave me alone.� He grumbled, picking up his chopsticks.
I finished my juice. Okay, so I believed in freedom, but when one�s son suddenly starts to�..to decorate himself, it was going to become a problem. I was okay with the long hair, and the clothing, but the accessories were starting to worry me. He had taken to wearing necklaces, which I said nothing to either, even though I wasn�t fond of them: that was normal for some men to do, even if his were kind of odd with weird symbols and designs. But now, the nail polish�..well, the next thing I knew if I didn�t say anything, he�d start wearing makeup! �I don�t think that�s appropriate, Kenji.�
I knew I was treading dangerous grounds again. He would probably blow up at me, saying something like I was trying to control his life or something. I saw his glare, but I stiffened my resolve. �I will not have my son walking around looking like�.that.� I finished, a bit lamely. I did not want to criticize his sense of style, but�.
�I�ll do whatever I want.� He said evenly.
Is it peer pressure? I wondered, not knowing how to counter that response. Yes, I sucked at being a parent.
Granted, Kenji and I were mostly strangers to each other, as we had not exactly spent our entire lives together, but we had a mutual agreement: he would respect me if I respected him. But how would he respect me when he didn�t think I was keeping up my end of the bargain? In turn, our agreement was failing, and quickly.
Luckily, I was saved from getting into a full-blown argument, when the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock and it read 7:13. Who on earth would visit at this time? I hoped it wouldn�t be some advertiser, because at the moment, I didn�t have the patience to deal with them.
Nevertheless, I got out of his seat to go see who it was. Maybe it was the police, ready to let me know that my son had a new offense, and most surely that would not surprise me.
I was surprised however, when I pulled open the door to reveal��.
My father.
Confused, I took a step back. �Dad? What are you doing here?� I had definitely not been expecting him.
He smirked a bit, crossing his big burly arms. �Are you going to invite me in, or are you going to gawk at me all day?� He demanded, skipping the greetings all together.
Speechless, I moved aside, allowing him to sweep in. Kenji, now curious as to who it was, came to see for himself. He was standing in the kitchen�s doorway, peering out. He was just as surprised as I was to see the towering figure of my father.
His name was Hiko Seijuuro, a man that had been unable to have children of his own, and thus, along with his wife, had adopted me. Yes, my adoptive mother was barren. Nevertheless, I loved them both as if they were my real parents. I had never known my real parents, as I had been taken to live with Hiko the moment I was born. I had never really bothered to question or let that get to me. I guess living was enough of a blessing for me and I was grateful for it.
Even though my Dad could grate my nerves the most out of anybody, I respected him a lot. He had many reasons to be disappointed in me because I guess I wasn�t a very bright kid when I had been younger.
He was taller than me, that was for sure. And much more built. Okay, fine, he was in every way different from me. He had long black hair and was muscular. He spoke with a deep resonating voice that was often bitingly sarcastic and commanding. He towered over me easily as he was past the 6 foot mark.
�Long time no see.� He said finally, sitting himself down on the couches in my living room. I tried not to wince as he did so, but I couldn�t very well tell my father to get off. He�d likely threaten to throttle me. Instead, I went straight to the kitchen to fetch him something to drink.
Dad was right: it had been a long time��..I came back with another glass of orange juice and held it out to him.
He never drank it, instead, holding it between his big hands. He was eyeing me from head to toe.
I lowered myself onto the couch opposite to him, gingerly. �Why�d you come all the way down from Kyoto?� I demanded. It was rather blunt, but I guess I couldn�t help it.
Smugly, Hiko began to drink, expecting me to wait for my answer. �I have reasons of my own.� He answered blandly, when he was done. �But, I dropped by to ask you if it was okay to stay here for the next two weeks.�
I blinked. Two weeks? Whatever his reasons were, it must have been important. Knowing my dad, he would not want to stay in Tokyo any longer than he needed to.
�S-sure, we have a guest bedroom.� I responded. �But��.�
�Good, I appreciate it.� He interrupted. He got up to go get his things from the car I had failed to notice was parked in my driveway. He came back with two suitcases, and we put them in the guest room. When Hiko wanted business done, it was done right away.
I had a very strict father.
We settled in the kitchen this time, where he gladly took up his dinner with us. Kenji was not there, as he had quickly gone to his own room to straighten it up: if my father saw it, he would have a fit. Not that he was a very neat person himself, but my mother had been one to rag on us to keep everything clean and orderly, and he picked up on her habits. I guess I had as well.
�You haven�t changed.� He announced, taking a bite.
I smiled a bit, taking my seat in front of my food once more. �A lot�s happened,� I admitted, �but I don�t think one changes that quickly.�
�How are you holding up? I�m surprised you haven�t burned down the house.�
It was my turn to scowl. �Of course not. We�re coping just fine, thank you.�
�And the brat?� Referring to Kenji of course.
As if on cue, Kenji walked in again, giving Hiko a small bow before taking his place next to his grandfather.
�Ask him yourself.� I muttered beneath my breath.
Was it obvious enough that we were not as close as he had hoped?
My father instantly noticed Kenji�s black nails and demanded if the child had a disease.
Taken aback, Kenji answered in a small voice. �N-no��.�
�Then what the heck are your nails black for boy?� Hiko roared. I swear I could feel the floor boards shaking. �If you�re not sick, then your nails have no reason to be black. Get that disgusting paint off this instant.�
Without a word, face pale, Kenji scurried back to his room. I watched him go, a bit perplexed: why didn�t he listen to me? I guess I just wasn�t as �scary� as Hiko was.
�Honestly��..� Hiko was growling. �And dress respectably too!� He bellowed.
I finished my food quickly, the atmosphere tense. Trust my father to rule over a house that was not his. At the moment, I really didn�t care, and I welcomed it. If he could put Kenji in shape then I�d be more than happy.
When Kenji returned, he was back in the attire he had been in that morning, the nail polish gone. He looked neither left nor right, but straight ahead, avoiding our eyes.
�That�s better.� Hiko grunted. He stood, his chair scraping the ground beneath him with an annoying sound. �I�ll wash the dishes.� He announced. �Kenshin, I want to talk with you after.�
I nodded, a bit wary of trying my voice after his rant. I remembered clearly what it felt like growing up with him. I did manage to give him a grateful smile. Poor Kenji looked absolutely miserable. Well, I guess I would have too, if I had two overbearing relatives on my case.
He sat, picking at his food, his appetite gone. I helped clear the table, and my father had the water running in the sink in no time. �You got any beer?� He asked of me.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. He was a heavy drinker too, not that he got overly drunk and passed out, but he had a taste for it. In fact, he could hold his drinks better than anyone I�d ever met and still stay sober. I had yet to learn the secret. He seemed a bit disappointed by my gesture, but let it drop. Instead, he turned his attention to Kenji.
�How�ve you been since you left me?�
�Wonderful.� Kenji replied, sullenly. Yeah, right it was wonderful. He picked at his string beans, poking and re-poking them. I felt sorry for the vegetable.
Hiko held up a soapy dish, letting some of the substance fall on the floor. Being the person with a ritual when it came to the dishes, I tried not to wince for the second time that day. He was not done interrogating my son though. �And school?�
I met Kenji�s eye and he blinked and looked away. �It�s��fine.�
My father got the catch that he wasn�t doing the greatest. �Slacking off already�?�
�I�m not hungry anymore.� Kenji said, getting up. �Can I be excused?�
Since when did he ask permission to leave the table?
Somewhat speechless, all I could do was nod, and he all but bolted out the door to retreat into the sanctuary of his bedroom. Did I mention before that my dad didn�t know what privacy was?
�Cut him some slack.� I hissed to my father, taking the dish from his hand and wiping it clean before returning it to my cabinet.
�You cut him too much,� He snapped, �that�s why he�s the way he is.� His sharp tone stung, and I felt terrible. He knew though�..he knew the situation and what had happened, and yet�.. I felt my fingers tighten on the glass I held and it began to creak in my anger. I felt his soapy hand over mine, gently prying my fingers off the glass. �I�m sorry,� He murmured, managing to take the glass from me, �I didn�t mean to say that.�
It wasn�t my fault�..
I forced myself to relax, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. I prayed that I wouldn�t black out. Why was I suddenly sick to my stomach again? I backed away a bit, afraid to break any dishes. After he had finished doing the dishes, he turned to face me.
Nothing was the same anymore.
________________
Kenji was finally done one week of punishment, but he was in for another two. Now that my father had come along, I don�t think he was pleased. I could bet my arms and legs that he would rather be in my dad�s company than in mine.
�You know what you�re son needs?� Dad asked me.
I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to ask the question.
�He needs a psychiatrist.� He said.
�Psychiatrist?� I asked, bewildered.
He nodded. �I talked to him the other day, and it sounded to me like he was suicidal.�
I hoped I was hearing wrong. I turned my full attention to him. �What did he say?�
�Something about how life sucks and he doesn�t think he needs to keep it.�
There was a tone of teasing in his voice. Damn him! He knew that I would take it seriously. Hide all sharp objects, throw away all the pills, bar the windows: in other words, take all precautions necessary to keep my son from doing that one stupid thing.
�He probably doesn�t have the guts to go through with it.� My father announced, smugly, seeing the shock written clearly in my eyes. In his right hand, he held a bottle of sake. I could smell the powerful stuff already and he had yet to open it. �But, it is always safe to get him help.�
I looked down at the small disk he had in his hand, lightly decorated with small prints of vines and branches. Would Kenji really need to have a psychiatrist? That would be another expense to deal with. Actually, I just didn�t want to believe�. �My son is not crazy.� I told him.
Hiko shrugged, turning around to open the jug and pouring it into the small disk. He swallowed it back before answering. �I don�t think so either, my boy. It�s just a warning.�
He left, his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving me standing there, lost in my thoughts.
I saw Kenji walk by. He was in a green yukata and gray hakama. Ever since my father had come over, he had not worn a single black article of clothing. I knew, despite his innocent look, he was plotting something in his head.
But surely it had nothing to do with his death.
He was fine, and would need no doctors. I heard people got worse with the so-called help. I didn�t need him put in an asylum. He wasn�t crazy�..
Three days went by before I knew it, and I kept my eye on Kenji at all times as much as possible, but he did nothing suspicious. He still ate a lot, and went to bed early. He was actually finishing all his homework, and didn�t have any signs that he was contemplating anything serious. I even caught him chatting with his grandfather and he was smiling.
Smiling!
A bit of excitement and jealousy filled me. Excitement because it was hardly ever that my son smiled. His smile reminded me of his mother. And jealousy because he seemed to be more attached to my father than to me. I know it wasn�t right, and it wasn�t my father�s fault. But I just couldn�t help the feeling.
Later, Hiko told me that Kenji seemed to be better, and to relax. I had to admit that I must have aged three years in my worrying. Maybe I had been getting a bit too paranoid.
I almost felt like the three weeks Kenji was under house arrest would never end, and I couldn�t help but be grateful for my father�s presence. I hadn�t pushed the reason why he was here to begin with, but I knew he would tell me in time. All I knew was, that Kenji and I hadn�t gotten into a single spat ever since, and I was hard pressed to keep it that way.
And I knew for sure he wasn�t going to do anything crazy.
Relaxed and worry-free, I had just come back from a break, when the telephone rang. Before any one else could answer it, I grabbed it.
Maybe I should have thought twice before I said anything.
�Is this Himura-san?� it was Kaoru on the line again.
I had to pull the phone away from my ear with the way she screamed that line out. I grimaced at the machine, glancing sideways to see Yumi staring at me. Apparently, she had heard the shriek from where she was sitting. What did she want this time? Whenever it was Kaoru calling, I knew Kenji did something bad.
�Yeah, Kamiya-san, what is it?� I half expected her to tell me that he had gotten into another petty brawl.
Yumi was making all these faces, causing my face to go red. Damn it.
I ignored her, covering the mouth piece in case Kaoru decided to spout off again: I really didn�t need any more embarrassment.
�Hurry!� She was saying, �But don�t go here: your son is being brought to the hospital!�
And then the line went dead.
I couldn�t believe my ears.
The hospital?
What for?
My son wasn�t crazy���
To Be Continued��..
AN: Sorry I took so long to update! I will be back next chapter! Please tell me what you think!
Chapter 6
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