#can i selfishly request more appearance by Seijuro-nii tho hehehe

[clubakashi]

Chapter 17

a cute story of Akashi and his mini-bokushi by @active-mind-15​

Link to: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Morning came faster than Bokushi would have like it to. As he slowly woke up, he heaved a sigh and rolled over on his side, looking at the clock on his bedside. It was 9:13, later than he usually woke up, perhaps because of how many hours he had spent the night before freaking out (well, as much as someone like Bokushi could freak out, anyway) before his body couldn’t take it anymore and shut down. Rolling out of bed and going to the bathroom, he stood in front of the sink and turned on the faucet, blocking the drain and watching the water collect in the basin. He took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. Lucky for him, he didn’t look as stressed out as he actually was, which was good, because he was trying to mask how badly this current situation had messed him up. He switched off the faucet and scooped the cold water into his hands before splashing it on his face.

Even though he had a several hours after dinner last night to think about it, and then another eight hours to sleep it off, he was still in denial that Miyoko would be staying at his house this weekend. Yes, yes, he knows that someone staying over was not that big of a deal, and if it was, it shouldn’t be. It was just that for as long as he’s been around he had kept his life with friends and his life with his family two completely different things. Not even his teammates have been to his house, both former and current. Well, part of that was due to paranoia that they might do something disastrous and his father would lose his mind, but the other was simply because he just preferred not to. He would rather keep everything separate.

This particular arrangement, however, was a different story altogether. First of all, it was weird because it was his father, not him, who invited Miyoko. The next thing is that she was staying for more than a few hours, she was staying for a few days. The third is that when his father was giving his reasoning as to why he was doing this when he had called Akashi last night, Bokushi had the feeling that his father still has some ulterior motive, some reasoning that he hasn’t told him yet. And that irked the redheaded boy to no end. Why was it? Why was he so frustrated about that? His hands paused mid-way between the sink and his face as he finally came up with the answer.

It was because he didn’t know.

Bokushi used to be able to know everything. He could look at the information on any given individual, narrow down the results and predict the outcome; that’s what he was known for. But his father… His father was a complete anomaly. It didn’t matter how much information Bokushi had on that man, he was an ever-changing variable. How ironic that the person he knows least about is his own father.

Because of that, Bokushi gets frustrated when he tries to figure out what his father might be thinking and fails. His father is too complex for a person to understand. The only one who ever managed to crack the code was his mother.

Perhaps this was why he had such an uneasy feeling about Miyoko coming over today. He didn’t know what his father was going to do, and so that caused an uneasy feeling of dread. Bokushi has never had this many instances where he hasn’t known something before, and he wasn’t sure if he was okay with that yet. At the moment, he didn’t know, and he hated not knowing.

He splashed water on his face three more times for good measure. Just shake it off, he told himself. This visit is about Miyoko, not father. He nodded to himself in assurance before picking up a small towel and drying his face. Surely if he focused on just Miyoko, he would be fine.

…Right?

~O~

“Are you excited for your friend to visit, Young Master?”

Once Bokushi was dressed and ready, all that was left for him to do was wait. Apparently, from what his father had told him the night before, Miyoko was to come at four, so he was to wait until then for her arrival. He was in the library for most of the morning, trying to read something to take his mind off things, but the longer he continued to read the book he was on, the more uninteresting he became. It wasn’t because of the plot, because if the book was that bad then it wouldn’t be sitting in the library in his house, but for some reason, he just wasn’t in the mood to read. This was strange because he was always in the mood to read, but his mind just wasn’t focused enough for it. It got to a point where he was skimming the words on the pages, but nothing was actually going into his head. He had sighed and closed the book, standing up from the chair to put it back where he found it and walking out of the library to find something else to do.

After a few hours of trial and error doing various activities to keep him occupied, he ended up wandering the house. Wandering the house by himself seemed to be another thing he did more often. He didn’t really have a need to do it, but sometimes he got so bored that he had to do something. He was usually never bored since before this whole ordeal of becoming his own person, he at least had lessons or extracurricular activities to keep him busy, but now his schedule had been freed up completely, it was practically nonexistent these days. It’s not like he liked having his day piled up with endless classes and other things to do on the side, but he did prefer having a schedule to follow. Now that he didn’t have a schedule anymore, he felt purposeless, just wandering through life. Sure, it was probably way less dramatic than he made it out to be, but the same feeling still applied. So when it was half-past three in the afternoon and Bokushi flopped onto the couch in the living room, he just let himself be useless for just a little while as he waited for four o'clock, staring at the small antique clock on the mantelpiece. But, as time progressed, his nerves began to work up again, because for some reason his subconscious refused to get over the fact this was going to be too awkward for words, and Bokushi became more restless. The maids, who were making sure that the living room was clean five minutes to the hour, spotted Bokushi and sat down with him to pass the remaining time that was left. The young boy glanced off to the side, putting his hands in his lap.

“I suppose…” he trailed off, not even sure what to answer anymore. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to ignore how close it was to four o'clock. The two maids exchanged looks with each other, both looking at Bokushi with sympathetic smiles.

“Young Master, I’m sure everything will be fine,” the younger maid told him. “There is no need to be nervous for anything.” Bokushi took in her words and grimaced.

You naïve staff members, he thought solemnly. I’m nervous for Miyoko’s sake, not mine.

He didn’t care what Miyoko thought of his house, he didn’t care if after this she would like to come back or not, he just cared what his father was planning to say to her, the types of questions he would ask, and et cetera.

He had been theorizing all day and still, he came up with nothing. Even when he had lunch with his father earlier in the afternoon, he couldn’t make out anything from the faces his father was making, because he was always wearing that impossibly neutral expression. He just hoped that his father wouldn’t do anything, what, stupid? That wasn’t the right word. Nothing his father ever did was stupid. Embarrassing perhaps? No, that wasn’t quite right either. What was that word that he heard being used from time to time? Like in those instances where Mibuchi, despite his elegant nature would accidentally trip in the hallway, or when Hayama made an exceptionally bad joke…

Ah yes. Cringey.

The thought of his father trying to be amiable to a five-year-old little girl, behaving the way other adults behave around small children, fawning over them and such, it made Bokushi cringe. Just thinking about it at times could make him tremble all over, enough for someone to mistake him for having an epileptic fit. He knew his father would never behave like that, but Bokushi still felt like he was going to show some type of weird behavior. He wondered how correct his intuitions would be.

His thoughts were interrupted when the doorbell rang. Bokushi’s eyes widened as he perked up to the sound like a vigilant animal. Oh God, she’s already here.

Wanting to make sure that his face was the first Miyoko would see when the door is opened, Bokushi had already slid off the couch and ran out of the living room before the maids could react, adamant on answering the door himself. He didn’t know why he wanted it that way, but he put that aside when he stopped in front of the door and unlocked it, twisting the door handle and pulling it towards him. As soon as the door opened, a pair of arms had already circled around his neck and a body crashed into him full force, making him stagger back a few steps. His vision was completely blocked by green, and it took his a few seconds to register the fact that this was actually Miyoko who had just virtually tackled him. The young girl giggled happily.

“Hi, Bokushi-kun!” she greeted, releasing him from her grip. “It’s been so long since I last saw you!” Bokushi quirked a brow.

“You mean five days?” He chuckled at her excitement. “It’s nice to see you. And it seems that you’ve brought a plus one.” His eyes swiveled up to the tall bespectacled teenager behind Miyoko carrying her overnight bag in one hand and a red rosary (his lucky item) in the other. “Hello, Shintarou. I was not aware that you wanted to sleep over as well. Did you miss me that much?”

“Very funny,” Midorima huffed, folding his arms. “I am simply here to drop Miyoko off, nanodayo. I am surprised your father suggested she stay over.” Bokushi paused, looking left and right to make sure he was out of earshot before leaning a bit closer.

“Believe me, I know,” he responded in a hushed tone because finally, someone was on the same page as him with this whole ordeal. “Everyone else seems to find nothing wrong with this arrangement except me. Even Seijuro-nii sided with my father. It felt like I was talking to a brick wall.”

Bokushi was silenced when they heard a distinctive set of footsteps approach the door. By the time they had reached the area they were standing, Masaomi’s figure was standing over Bokushi, eyeing the two siblings standing at the doorway.

“It seems our guest has arrived,” he said, his deep voice smooth as always. “I am Akashi Masaomi. I welcome you to our home, Miyoko. And Midorima Shintarou, it has been a while since I have last seen you.”

Midorima immediately tensed (because that was everyone’s involuntary reaction when they see Akashi’s father) but he bowed politely all the same.

“It has truly been a while, Akashi-san. I thank you for allowing my younger sister to stay for the weekend.” He nudged Miyoko lightly and she perked up, remembering her manners.

“Um, thank you for having me, Akashi-san,” she said to the man, her speech equally as polite, imitating her brother and bowing. Masaomi gave a low hum of approval as he nodded in acknowledgment.

“Of course.”

The first and last time Midorima had seen their father was at their graduation ceremony at Teiko. He had approached his family with Akashi (who he realized was really Bokushi at the time but details) following behind as both their parents exchanged names and details and discussed many occupational topics. When Midorima had to introduce himself the first time to his father, he felt an enormous sense of pressure when he looked Masaomi in the eyes that day. While neither Akashi nor Bokushi looked that much like their father, the one thing they most definitely inherited from that man was the innate ability of intimidation. Yeah, sure, he could sometimes feel tense around Akashi or Bokushi, but their father was on a whole different level. Even now, being in the vicinity of their father and greeting him like this still made the green-haired Shooting Guard feel like he couldn’t breathe. During his first encounter with their father, Bokushi had felt the need to point out with traces of amusement in his voice that when he was speaking to his father, he left out his trademark sentence ending. If he could fear for his life that much just from exchanging a simple hello, he could only imagine what was waiting inside the house for Miyoko. The more Midorima thought about Miyoko staying in the Akashi household for the whole weekend, the more he saw it as a lamb being lead to a slaughterhouse, to which he immediately took the time to silence his thoughts because Jesus Christ this was his sister he was using in this comparison and she was not going to be slaughtered. Well, at least he hoped she wasn’t.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Miyoko says suddenly, pulling herself up from her formal bow and unzipping the overnight bag Midorima was holding before taking out a mahogany brown box. “Please accept this, Akashi-san.” For the most part, Masaomi seemed unfazed, bending down to retrieve the box from the girl’s extended arms before carefully turning the elegantly designed package in his hands, taking note of the golden characters that spelled out the name of a high-end sweets shop in the downtown area.

“It's ichigo daifuku,” she clarifies, because she seemed excited to tell him what is was. “I picked it myself.” Midorima adjusted his glasses.

“She was adamant in bringing something.” He seemed hesitant to answer as if he wasn’t sure whether their father even wanted to hear his answer, but he took it all in stride and simply nodded in understanding.

“Is that so?” Masaomi said. “I thank you for the gift.” Miyoko smiled.

“You’re welcome!”

Bokushi looked between his father and Miyoko as they exchanged words. It was weird, seeing him mellow like this. This type of behavior is what he’d expect his father to put on for potential business partners. The fake smiles and honey-laced words were merely tools that people in the business world such as his father use to their advantage to make others follow him. They would seem nice and friendly when you first encounter them, but behind closed doors, they could be the coldest person in the world. Bokushi, in a sense, used to be like that, but now that part of him has been almost completely dulled. But for someone like his father to be like this towards a child, it felt so uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because this one time, he probably wasn’t faking it.

Masaomi finally stepped aside and gestured into the house.

“You should both come in,” he said. “It would be discourteous of me to let you stand outside for so long.” Midorima suddenly twitches, not enough for anyone to really notice, but Bokushi most definitely saw it.

“Ah, I was only here to drop Miyoko off,” he says quickly. “I couldn’t possibly intrude.”

When one is offered something, it was common courtesy to politely refuse the first time, but Bokushi was beginning to think that Midorima was refusing because he didn’t actually want to come in. He wouldn’t blame him, his father could be quite intimidating at times, even if it was unintentional. He watched as his father continued to look over at Midorima, his face unchanged as he insisted once more.

“Do come in, Midorima-kun,” he said to him. “For the trouble of bringing your younger sister here, it would only be fair to offer you tea.”

“Yeah, come inside the house, onii-chan!” Miyoko chimed, grabbing a hold of his hand and trying to pull him towards the entrance. “You could talk with Akashi-san!” Now Midorima had more visibly twitched at the notion of having a conversation with Bokushi’s father, and Bokushi was beginning to think that psychologists everywhere should start adding ‘Akashi Masaomi’ to the official list of phobias.

“W-Well…” Midorima took his glasses off and began to clean them with a cloth that he took out of his pocket. If Bokushi still knew Midorima’s quirks like he used to, then his glasses didn’t really need to be cleaned. He was cleaning them to buy time; and with that time, he would weigh out the options in his head. Slowly… Carefully… Then, he put the cloth back in his pocket and slid the glasses back on his face before answering.

“I suppose…” Midorima paused, trying to make sure he could convey his thoughts properly before continuing. “I have a bit of time before I should be home. Thank you, I will accept your invitation.” He bowed his head towards the older gentleman, looking up at him afterward to ensure he had said the correct thing. Masaomi was smiling, but not in a kind-hearted way, necessarily, but it was one of those smiles that one would make when a certain event would turn out exactly how they predicted. Midorima has seen that smile many times before when Akashi or Bokushi would beat him in a game of shogi and sit there with that smile on their face that said: ‘I knew it would turn out this way’.

How infuriating…

“Excellent,” said Masaomi. “Bokushi, please go and take Miyoko’s things up to your room. Midorima-kun, if you would please come in, we can go to the living room and talk.” Midorima took in a sharp inhale and nodded once.

“Of course, Akashi-san.”

As Masaomi began to turn around and go back into the house, Bokushi went over to Midorima and reached his hand out, taking Miyoko’s bag from him but patted the Shooting Guard on the arm as if to give his sympathies.

“It’s fine, Shintarou, he won’t bite,” he said. “Also, stop holding that rosary so tightly as if it’s going to help you. You’re not even Catholic.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, nanodayo. When faced with a situation like this, I’ll seek help from whatever god is out there,” he muttered under his breath. “Anyway, you better hurry taking her things upstairs. I refuse to be left alone here, nanodayo.”

“I make no promises. Enjoy your tea, Shintarou.” Bokushi walked ahead, joining Miyoko who had already started going up the stairs, leaving Midorima to reluctantly follow his father as a maid finally shut the front door.