IV

This is it...Yatsumi's demise is just around the corner.

The following day started abnormally early for me - mainly because I couldn’t get much sleep - but was still as uneventful as it ever was. As per usual, some schmuck was sent to wake me up when I didn’t emerge from my bedroom by midday, only to hurry back out after receiving a highly explicit death threat from yours truly - as of yesterday, I officially had no more patience for any of these a******s. In spite of it all, though, my body could no longer sustain itself and sought to end the thirty-seven hour fast I had going, prompting me to reluctantly leave the room. Contact in the halls was minimal, but thankfully, I had yet to bump into either Yatsumi or Roku that morning - or afternoon, rather. …If I had to be truthful, though, it wasn’t them who I was most actively trying to avoid that day. And yet, for some ungodly reason, the person sitting alone at the kitchen counter when I entered the room just happened to be the one who was.

“Oh! Morning, Brother.” Mao said in a cheerful manner as he looked up from his lunch - a pair of yakitori sticks, one chicken and one beef. I would’ve laughed at the irony in his meal - Mao himself seemed to be two different entities at times - but as I’ve mentioned before, I find it difficult to smile when I’m around him. I ignored his greeting and proceeded towards the cupboards, pulling out a small plate and glass before heading to the refrigerator, all the while he kept his gaze fixed solely on me - he could be such a little prick at times. I pulled out the milk carton and poured half of its contents into the glass before returning it to the fridge and reaching for a container filled with leftover fried rice. I was about to open it and pour it onto the plate when a completely random thought entered my mind.

“Did you eat any of this?” I asked as I turned to face Mao. He replied with a mere shake of his head, obviously confused by the sudden inquiry.

“S**t. One of those douchebags probably put something in it. Hey, where’s Seishin? I need a taste tester.” I said aloud whilst looking around the room, not even sure what I was doing or saying by that point. Mao likely noticed this, as well, but to keep with his innocent persona, humored me with a brief fit of chuckling.

“I think you might be getting a little too paranoid, Brother.” he said to me, that ever-present fake smile glowing on his face. I might’ve thrown up, it was so repulsive - a scowl was good enough, though.

“You should know, Mao. …You’re the leading cause.”

He said nothing in response, but refused to take his gaze off of me either way. Having lost my appetite once again, I gulped down the milk I had already poured myself and left the kitchen just as I had came. …Of course, I would like to have said that, but Mao wouldn’t have anything of it.

“The cameras and sound system will be shut off between eight and nine o’clock tonight. He’s normally in his office during that time. …You can do the job then.” he advised me, obviously convinced that he was impossible to turn down. I wanted to spin around and tell the little prick to f**k off, but in the end, all I could manage was a clenched fist as I hurried out of the room.

The second I found myself alone again, I began cursing Mao under my breath, infuriated by the thought of him - my little brother - using me like a f****n’ slave to do his dirty work. In the end, though, I suppose that he had every reason for believing he could. After all, the outcome of it all was something that I also wanted…badly. And the more I thought about it, the more persuasive that side of me became. I’ll be honest, it took every ounce of willpower I had just to keep my words from the previous night fresh in my mind.

“He’s a devil, Mao. I know this better than either you or Seishin, …but he’s not THE devil…and I refuse to sell my soul to one in order to get rid of the other.”

Of course, I say that, …but I also couldn’t forget the words Mao said to me just before I left the room.

“…If you don’t do it, …somebody else will.”

There was no doubt in my mind that that “somebody” was Mao…and could I really sit back and watch my little brother commit murder? My first thought was “no”, while my second was whether or not I would have to kill Yatsumi myself in order to stop Mao from doing it in my stead. As the idea of informing him of Mao’s intentions crossed my mind, though, it was quickly replaced by a simple “f**k off”, cause I knew damn well that Yatsumi wouldn’t just sit idly by after I told him that his own son was planning to kill him. …In the end, it all boiled down to who I wanted to die more, and while my answer would normally be Yatsumi, …I couldn’t forget that look in Mao’s eyes as he told me that he would kill him if I didn’t. As much as I wanted to deny it, I was dealing with a case of two potential devils, and it was up to me to decide which of them was the greater evil. …And unfortunately for my appetite, there was only one way to find out.

“Ah, hell. …If you got somethin’ you wanna say, Aito, hurry up and spit it out. I ain’t got time to waste it talkin’ to you.” Yatsumi griped as I walked into his office, clearly oblivious to the fact that I was his f*****g son - not that there was anything new about that. I thought for a moment about leaving the room then and there, but I quickly decided against it. …Too much was riding on this to back out.

“F-…Father.” I muttered, almost choking on the word as it escaped my lips. Having not heard me address him as such in a very long time, he removed the ever-present cigar from his mouth and leaned back in his chair.

“Okay, …I’m intrigued.” he said. Walking up to his desk and leaning against it, I struggled to find the words that I came there to say, but to no avail. Quickly losing his patience, Yatsumi heaved a sigh of irritation as he scratched his brow with the two fingers not working to keep his cigar hoisted in the air.

“I’m not sayin’ this again, Aito. If you’re gonna tell me something, this is the only chance you’re gonna get to say it.” he spouted, causing my hands to clench tighter as I struggled to hold back my fury.

“Do you…uhhh…d-do you…” I stammered on, though no matter how hard I tried to give the words form, my mouth just couldn’t find the strength to do it. Before I even had the chance to finish, though, Yatsumi had already pressed the button on his desk that was linked to the intercoms.

“Anchisukiru wa, anata ga kotchi kite watashi no ofisu no soto ni, kono meiwaku o goei itadakemasen ka?” he muttered into the microphone, evidently preferring that I remain oblivious to what he was saying. Unfortunately, the fatass forgot that, although I was born here in the States, I was still part-Japanese…and the Japanese equivalents of “guards”, “escort”, and “nuisance” were very much in my vocabulary.

“Wait, hold on a sec-”

“Aito, I already know what you’re gonna ask me…and there’s no f****n’ way in Hell that I’m answering that.” he said, his own aggravation quickly surfacing along with my own. I turned around to face him properly and slammed my hands onto his desk, my boiling point having finally been reached in spite of my efforts to prolong it.

“Then explain it to me, why don’tcha? If you’re so damn smart, then explain to me just what the f**k I came here to ask you!”

“You watch your f****n’ mouth when you’re talkin’ to me!”

“Then just answer the f****n’ question! Do you love me or not!?”

By that time, the guards had already entered the room - I didn’t turn around to look, but I was certain that they were both wearing dumbfounded expressions. He motioned to them to carry on with the orders given to them over the intercom, not breaking eye contact with me as he did. He took a long puff on his cigar as they each proceeded to grab ahold of one of my arms, taking it out of his mouth again once he finally found the nerve to answer my question.

“What do you think?” he said, no sense of emotion present in his face as he spoke. There wasn’t even an insult or profane word among them, …but those four words somehow managed to sting more than any that had ever left his mouth before.

“Get the f**k off me!” I shouted, shoving the guards away before adjusting the bottom of my shirt. I locked eyes with Yatsumi one last time before leaving the room in a fit of rage, …praying that none of them saw the single tear running down the side of my face.

The hours that followed couldn’t have passed by any slower - and I spent every waking second of them sitting at the edge of my bed, my head buried in my lap as I considered Mao’s proposal…and all the reasons I had for accepting it. I couldn’t deny that - from an agnostic perspective - the pros of going through with it far outweighed the cons, but unfortunately, I wasn’t agnostic, nor was I certain that I wouldn’t be found out. The fact that I was still considering it sickened me to the core, but given Yatsumi’s ambiguous answer and Mao’s prior warning of what would transpire if I refused, all the variables added up to one absolute - someone in this house was going to die tonight. It was just a matter of who it was and who would make it happen, and no matter what might’ve become of me for doing so, …I refused to allow my little brother to take either side of the equation.

It was on February 9th at approximately 8:05 p.m. when I finally emerged from my bedroom, mind made up and dressed in my sweatshirt and typical baggy jeans, in the back of which I had stowed away my gun. There to greet me outside the door was Mao - as I knew he would be - waiting patiently for my final answer, which I didn’t bother hesitating to give.

“I’ll do it.”

“As I knew you would.”

“F**k you, alright? So, are the cameras down yet or not?” I inquired of him, bringing a small, sarcastic smile to his pale, blemishless face.

“You doubt my reliability, Brother?” he said with a level of smugness I hadn’t heard from him before.

“I doubt your f*****g humanity, Mao, just so you know that. …Every single ounce of aggression he’s had since I was thirteen has been taken out on me. I suffered. I was the one driven to the brink of suicide, but I steadfast and even managed to hold onto my morality. …So tell me, …what the f**k did ever he do to you?”

He hesitated for a brief moment, probably trying to figure out what he could say that wouldn’t piss me off and incite me to refuse his offer at the last minute. …His answer was solid proof that he didn’t think I would end up asking him this.

“Everyone has their own version of Hell, Aito. …At least he paid an ounce of attention to you.”

So this was his excuse, I thought. I silently scoffed at its pathetic nature, infuriated by the level of cynicism he was showing just by suggesting this was his ultimate cause for wanting Yatsumi dead - which I knew it wasn’t. I would’ve called him on his bullshit right then, but I had already made up my mind that I would be the one to end Yatsumi’s life…and his reasoning wouldn’t change that.

“If you still have doubts about the cameras and intercom, you can go check them yourself before heading to his office. You know where the surveillance room is, right-”

Seeing no point in continuing this conversation, I made my departure before he could finish. The surveillance room was on the first floor, as was Yatsumi’s office, so I had no problem dropping by just to ensure that Mao wasn’t lying. A small broom closet of a room, a rather complicated computer system and an empty chair were all that resided there - I dunno how the f**k Mao knew that the jerk-off who worked there would be out for the night, or how he learned to operate the system. Knowing a little bit about its workings myself, a quick scan of the control panel told me all I needed to know.

“Looks like Mao kept his word.”

I gulped down what air was in my mouth - knowing full well what this meant - before leaving the room. Another three-to-four minute walk landed me right smack in front of Yatsumi’s office, the doors appearing as though they were several meters away. …It was finally happening, and I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths as I tried to enter the right state of mind needed to see it through.

I thought back to two years ago when my mother disappeared, the corpses of her and her lover found nearly a month later, almost half a mile off the shoreline. She was the only normal, decent human being I had ever known - I couldn’t count Seishin, cruel as that sounds - and even after she found someone she felt was more worthy of her love than Yatsumi, I never once believed that she was at fault. After all, that fat b*****d had been doing the exact same thing with a wide array of w****s - both by trade and by name - for years prior to her one-time affair.

I thought back to the week following her funeral when I, in a state of depression, stumbled across a bag of cocaine that one of his lackeys had left lying around. I was found later on the brink of death - half the bag completely gone - and quickly rushed to the hospital, but only my brothers sat by my bedside during my recuperation. Yatsumi wasn’t even there when I was first admitted in, only coming to see me once he was informed of my full recovery. …I remember he was wearing all of his rings that day, bitching about how I had robbed him of over a thousand dollars’ worth of blow as he rammed them against my forehead, …not showing an ounce of f****n’ sympathy for his son who had just narrowly escaped death.

I thought about the two years that followed my overdose, …how every morning began with his fist against my face, ...how I would go several days without eating just so I didn’t have to leave my room, …how I finally started carrying a gun around when I was seventeen, …and how much of an absolute hellhole my life was and would be so long as he was a part of it.

I finally opened my eyes again, all the emotion now gone from my face as I walked through the double doors of his office, only one thought still lurking at the forefront of my mind.

“Good f*****g riddance.”

Author's Note

This is probably the chapter I'm most proud of out of those I've finished. Hopefully, it shows.

Thanks to those who've been reading and I encourage you to leave feedback, however favorable or constructive it is.