What is Family? by Hoshiko - Part 7
Moments later found me standing outside the closed door to the sempai’s room, studying the wood grain patterns with a somewhat unhealthy degree of interest.
To say that I was perfectly calm would be an outright lie. To say that I was nervous would be an understatement. To say that I was unbelievably, ravenously, curious would be but scratching the surface of the matter.
I had waited days for the chance to interview the three people closest to me, and now that the time was upon me…
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I ignored the strange looks I was garnering from the other dorm residents as I continued to stare at the closed door. I'm still not sure what made me do it, but I reached out and placed my hand against the door, and simply stood there.
There was no sudden jolt of electricity, no unexplained bolt of lightning from the heavens – only a strangely fitting sense of…something.
And then the door opened.
It was hard to say which one of us was more surprised – Mitsuru-sempai or myself.
“Shun?”
Dropping my arm at my side, I grinned brightly at Mitsuru-sempai. He blinked at me, and I shuffled my feet again, fighting the urge to play with my hair.
We stood like that for a few moments, neither sure of what to do, the sounds of everyday life going on around us. Finally, he seemed to notice the notebook I held in my hand, and a look of realization crossed his face.
“Oh. That’s right, you wanted to interview me for your article, ne?”
Grabbing onto the proffered opening like a drowning man for a life preserver, I nodded enthusiastically.
“Hai. But if this is a bad time…?”
Mitsuru-sempai smiled that smile of his that had been known to melt sterner hearts than mine. As I was faced with that guileless grin, I wondered to myself just how it was that Shinobu-sempai had been able to resist it for as long as he had - and then I remembered.
He was Shinobu-sempai. He didn’t like to admit to weakness in any form, and for him, love must have seemed the worst kind of weakness.
“Huh? Oh, no. I was just going to get a drink of water, but it can wait. Come on in.” Mitsuru-sempai said, stepping aside to let me by.
Returning Mitsuru-sempai’s smile, I was glad that Shinobu-sempai had learned better. Love wasn’t the weakness he thought, but a way of strengthening the bonds between two people.
“So, Shun. What’s your article about, anyway? Shinobu wouldn’t tell me.”
Settling myself across from Mitsuru-sempai at the chabudai, I opened my notebook to a blank page and uncapped my pen. He sat watching me patiently, an inquisitive gleam in his violet eyes.
I paused at his words. Shinobu-sempai hadn’t told him? That was strange. Knowing Mitsuru-sempai, he must have been bursting with curiosity. And Shinobu-sempai, who knew very well what my article was about, hadn’t told him? I was beginning to get that all too familiar feeling of near dread again.
“Shinobu-sempai didn’t mention it to you?” I asked tentatively, fiddling with the end of my hair anxiously.
Shaking his head irritably, Mitsuru-sempai scowled darkly.
“No. Shin’s been pulling his smug bastard act all afternoon. Every time I asked, he just grinned and told me it was a secret.”
“Aa.”
Hardly the most enlightening thing to say, but at the moment it was all I was capable of.
Without warning, the amiable smile vanished from Mitsuru-sempai’s face, a thin-lipped glower replacing it. I felt my eyes widen, and I could have sworn the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.
“Wait a minute – this doesn’t have anything to do with the whole tanuki incident, does it?” He demanded suspiciously, eyes narrowing.
Well that one got me. I didn’t have the faintest clue as to what he was talking about, but I instinctively knew that I didn’t want to. Somewhat along the lines of plausible deniability, I believe.
“Anou…no. It’s an article Masutani-sensei wanted me to write for my journalism class.” I replied; my hands white-knuckled from my tight hold on my pen.
Mitsuru-sempai treated me a moment longer to that menacing glare of his, and then…
“Oh. Well in that case, let’s get on with it, shall we?”
“H…Hai.” I stuttered, a little taken aback by the abrupt change in mood.
Mitsuru-sempai leaned back, relaxed and totally at ease. I was more than a little unnerved at the effortless manner in which he shifted from one persona to the next. It was almost as though they were carefully rehearsed roles - and he the experienced stage actor.
“Mitsuru-sempai,” I began, looking up to meet his eyes, “what does family mean to you?”
The moment the words left my mouth, I damned myself for having spoken them.
Mitsuru-sempai’s face paled, the cheerful smile on his face dying in increments as I watched his control shatter. Hurt filled his violet eyes, and I would have done anything I could have at that moment to banish it. I would have done anything to see the darkness in his eyes replaced with happiness, with mischief, with anything but the bleakness I saw.
And then he smiled.
It hurt, to see him smile like that. To know he was smiling through the pain, trying to act as though my words had not just cut him to the core. It hurt to know that it had been my words that stung him so cruelly, and it hurt to know that he did not blame me. It was like seeing a familiar stranger, one with Mitsuru-sempai’s body, his smile – but his eyes…
His eyes showed the only sign of the torment that roiled within him, and I felt cold inside at the sight.
Desperately I searched my memories for a reason why my words had hurt Mitsuru-sempai so much, all the while watching him. I cringed inwardly as he tried to pass if off as nothing important. Then it hit me.
Mitsuru-sempai had been abandoned as a baby.
I closed my eyes and cursed myself for being several kinds of idiot. What had I been thinking…or had I been thinking at all? Of all the people I could have chosen to interview, Mitsuru-sempai was perhaps the worst possible choice.
Not because he was abandoned as a child, but because he was so hopelessly focused on what he thought he’d lost, that he couldn’t see what he had.
“I’m sorry, Shun. Could you repeat the question, please?”
Wincing at the false cheer in his voice, I tore my gaze from my tightly clasped hands and met his violet one. I hated myself for it, but I did as he asked. I could do no less.
“What does family mean to you?”
This time, he hid the shock better, and I was relieved to see some of the darkness ebb from his eyes. He was still shaken, but no one can stay in the dark forever.
“Well, that’s easy enough to answer, isn’t it? I mean, obviously, a family is made up of parents and their offspring, right?”
I stared at Mitsuru-sempai, stunned that his words should so closely echo my thoughts from that fateful day nearly a week ago. And then I thought about everything I had learned since then, everything I had heard from the people I’d interviewed – and the ones I hadn’t.
Looking away from Mitsuru-sempai’s too-bright smile, I flipped to a certain page in my notebook, and began to read aloud from the notes scribbled there.
“’Family, to me, is the group of people I share my hopes, my dreams with.’” And then further down: “’…for me, a family is made up of the people who I’ve grown up with, the people who share the same memories as I do…’”
Still not looking up from the notebook held in my hands, I turned the page and read even more of the notes I had taken earlier.
“’…family is the bunch of people you care for most in the world, the people who know all your deepest wishes, your desires…’” I paused to decipher a tiny scribble in one corner of the page, “’…my family is made up of the people I love and care for…’”
When I finished, a heavy silence filled the room, tinged with uncertainty and something very much like fear. I found that I still could not meet Mitsuru-sempai’s eyes, my eyes riveted to those last lines.
“Who…” Mitsuru-sempai stopped to clear his throat, his voice a hoarse rasp, “who said that last?”
I looked up, startled at the hesitance I’d heard in his voice, and I felt a surge of hope as I realized that he was no longer hiding behind his masks. The smile was gone, and in its place, there was confusion, fear, and something else I could not identify. I smiled at him, and closed my notebook with a flick of my wrist, surprising him a little, at that, I think.
“I can’t tell you.”
I laughed to myself as I saw a spark of Mitsuru-sempai’s usual confident arrogance in his eyes.
“Shun…”
“I would be violating the trust my sources have in me if I revealed their names to you.” I said primly, fighting the smirk that played about the corners of my mouth.
Mitsuru-sempai glared at me, his eyes narrowing in that familiar way, his eyebrows drawn up in a sharp ‘v’ of annoyance.
“Shun,” he growled, “They are not your ‘sources’, you are not a journalist, and – “
"Mitsuru-sempai, what does it matter who said what? This interview was for me to ask you what you think family means. Not someone else.” I interrupted smoothly, allowing myself a small smile as he simply blinked at me.
“You didn’t answer my question, Mitsuru-sempai. What does family mean to you?”
I watched, fascinated as he opened his mouth and closed it a few times, looking like nothing so much as a pond koi that I was hard pressed not to burst into laughter. Several long moments later, he blinked, and his eyes focused on me.
“I…can this wait, Shun? I have something I need to do right now.”
Not totally unexpected, and I was beginning to suspect the reason why Shinobu-sempai had wanted this particular interview to go uninterrupted. Meeting his eyes, I saw the apprehension in them clearly.
“Of course, Mitsuru-sempai. Let me know when you’d like to finish the interview.” I said, gathering my things and getting to my feet.
I felt a brief flare of anger at Shinobu-sempai. He must have known what would happen when I asked Mitsuru-sempai my question, and he let it happen anyway. It was almost cruel, but I could see the necessity of it. Mitsuru-sempai had tortured himself long enough with his foolish notions concerning his family.
What did it matter that they were not his biological family? The love they felt for him was just as strong, if not more so. And I know he loved them with an equal depth of emotion, it showed in the way he spoke of them, when he did.
It wasn’t always easy to see, but if you bothered to look deep enough, you could see the longing in his eyes, the way he winced whenever someone mentioned a sibling or parent.
And yet, as I stood watching his receding form, I could not totally absolve myself of the guilt I felt. I should have remembered that part of his past, as his friend. I should have remembered how painful the subject was for him, but I hadn’t.
Shinobu-sempai may have let it happen, but I should have paid attention to what I was doing. I should have considered all the facts before I blundered ahead with my interview. Pointing an accusing finger at Shinobu-sempai would have done me no good; I was just as much to blame as he was. I could only hope that Mitsuru-sempai would come to the right conclusion.
Somehow, I knew that Shinobu-sempai would be there to guide him.
To be continued...