Favourite Mistake

Part One

The harmonious sounds that echo from my violin drift and float as if on wings within the room I am in. I don’t know what this tune is called nor do I really care. I am being forced to play the damn thing for a recital that my school puts on every year. I don’t want to do it but my father won’t let me refuse. So I really have no choice. Speaking of the bastard, he wanted to see me soon. Apparently, he’s hired a new bodyguard for me since the last one…

The tune cracks in its tone and I throw the bow to the ground in frustration. I massage my temples and take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I’d rather not remember any of that. Sometimes, sadly, that’s not an option.

Why my school has decided to set up this recital for July is beyond me. Wouldn’t it be a lot simpler if it were during the school year?

“Master Keijiru, your father has requested your presence.” I keep my back facing the maid as she speaks. I simply nod before I hear her footsteps echo as she leaves.

I bend down to pick up the bow and pocket the wooden stringed instrument into its case before I make my way through the many rooms of the mansion to get to my father’s office. As usual, he’s sitting at his desk speaking into the phone. He has a smirk on his face as he sends out orders for someone’s death. I resist the urge to roll my eyes as he attempts to cover up his words so I won’t be able to understand the message. I guess, unknown to him, I’m not a child anymore. I haven’t been for years. I’m only nineteen, twenty in a few months, but have been wise to my father’s business and such for many years before.

Finally, he ends his “secretive” conversation. “You are earlier than I had planned so I guess I should explain to you the circumstances. I have hired a new bodyguard for you and, as I’m sure you have assumed, he is much more reliable than the last. This one will not fall asleep on the job.” He doesn’t know what really happened. I will never tell him the real reason. I will never tell anyone. “His name is Katsu Urijuka. He will be here until he has outlived his usefulness.” At that second, as if fated, someone walks through the doorway to my father’s office. A maid is with him.

His hair is a mix of blue and black, like when the sky changes as the night falls upon the world. It’s currently slicked back in perfection, like all the bodyguards I’ve had in the past, but a few tresses fall before his black eyes. His skin is slightly tanned but not so much nor is it too pale. It seems to fit perfectly with his entire being. I watch in awe as he walks to my side. He bows, not completely, to my father. Words leave his mouth as an acceptance and explanation to the situation.

I hear none of my father’s words.

***

Alright, so despite this guy being really good looking and whatever, he generally pisses me off. He’s so prim…proper…perfect. He never makes a mistake and is so…perfect it just makes me want to mess up something of his. At least he’s better than the last guy.

I shiver at the memory.

At this point in time, I am in a suit and am on my way to the recital. I’m the last act because I am the best. This just makes me want to purposely screw up just to see everyone’s expression. But I will not do something that affects me to get back at the world or even the bastard. That really is a better title than “father”. Perhaps I shall use it more often.

The dark screen that divides the driver from the passenger is up so he can’t see nor hear a single thing. I am sitting next to the window on the passenger’s side of the vehicle where the dark screen is while Urijuka sits in front of me. I ignore him in favour of the scenery. It’s rather boring but it beats watching the older male. Whenever I look at him I’m reminded of his obsessive, perfectionist attitude. A sudden curiosity floats into my mind.

“Hey, Urijuka, how old are you?”

“I am thirty-two.” I would have guessed late twenties. Close enough. “Why do you ask?”

I shrug. “Just curious.”

The rest of the ride passes in silence.

***

Of course, as usual, the performance was a huge success. I played Il Trillo Del Diavolo, translated to: Devil’s Trill Sonata, by Tartini. I really respect him because of the way it was created. He had a dream about the devil where he was asked to be his servant. In his dream, he handed the devil his violin and he had played so magnificently that it seemed to take Tartini’s breath away. When he woke up, he tried to write down the notes as best he could. But they were clearly nothing compared to what the devil had played. Truly amazing.

After the night’s events have been completed, we all stay behind to celebrate this wondrous night. I only stay because I don’t want to go home quite yet, so, I sip some champagne and nibble on the few foods that are here.

I glance around after I down my first glass and sigh as I lean against a wall. Maybe I should have gone home. Is this really any better? I hate everyone that attends this place. Half love me for my talent and try to get close because I’m smart and gifted, and the other half loath me for the same reasons. I wasn’t always alone. I used to have a few friends but a few years ago I learned they weren’t my real friends. When I had first become good at the violin, they attached themselves to me. It took a long time for me to learn that they were merely wearing a mask. They weren’t truly my friends after all. When that experience had ended, I became quite distant and absorbed in the violin. It was my escape until I conquered the hardest of pieces and memorized them. And now, my conclusion: I hate people. That line strengthened when I let my guard down around my last bodyguard which turned out the same way: me being betrayed and hurt. That will never happen again. I simply will not allow it.

I’ve had enough of this. I turn to leave through the back of the stage. It leads to the side of the building. Just as I hear the door click shut behind me and I’ve taken a few steps, I hear laughter. This laughter isn’t happy and joyous like inside; it’s menacing and venomous. I turn to see three people stalking towards me. So, after watching me for weeks, they’ve finally decided to appear from the shadows. It’s only three. I should be able to handle this myself.

When they are a mere five feet from me, I see a silhouetted figure turning the corner behind them. They notice how my golden honey eyes shift to focus on that silhouette. When the person finally steps into some form of light given off by the street, I discover it is him.

I watch with intrigue as he pummels them with ease.

Alright, so he’s good at kicking ass and he’s not bad on the eyes.

***

I mumble and growl out curses as I’m startled into reality. At least it’s better than the dream I just had. I rub absently at my forehead, willing the lingering images to vanish. I leave my bed and room behind to fetch myself a cup of coffee. Instead of waking me up, it puts me back to sleep. I enter the kitchen and prepare my beverage. I stand before the counter, waiting for the water to boil. I close my eyes as I continue to will away certain images. I shiver as my attempts fail.

“Are you cold?” I nearly, literally, jump out of my skin as I hear words being spoken behind me. Instead, I turn sharply, with wide, wild, tired honey eyes and glance up into blackened orbs.

“Don’t do that!” I turn back to the counter and sigh as the button on the kettle pops.

I ignore him in favour of searching for the sugar. I open the cupboard and glance up but realize it’s on a high shelf that I can’t quite reach. I stretch my arm and try but fail miserably and only succeed in pushing it further back. I slam my fist down on the counter and massage my temples with my other hand, sensing a headache. I feel something press against my back and I stiffen instantly. I glance to my side as the sugar container is set next to my mug. I turn around and open my mouth, to thank him or yell at him I’m not sure because the words die in my throat. They seem to be stuck there.

The odd, cold smirk is ever present as he simply glances down at me for a few more seconds before he leaves. I place my hand against my chest in an attempt to calm my heart. That smirk burns in my mind.

At least it’s a better memory than what had transpired a few weeks ago.

***

It takes only a day to realize that I need a new hobby. I’m bored of the violin. It’s far too easy and simple now. I need a new project, a new challenge. Unfortunately, I don’t know what. I stand in my room before a blank canvas, paints ready to be used, brush in my hand, as I contemplate. What I’m doing now can be considered a hobby but it has become easy as well. Art is something that can’t be challenged since anything can be considered art. My favourite pieces, the ones that cover the walls in my room, are: Impression Sunrise by Monet and Starry Night by Van Gogh.

Without being conscious to such acts, my hand that wields the brush is moving. I’m not sure what I’m painting, I never do. I just wait until my hand stops its movement. Colours seem to meld together, compliment and contradict in the same instant. I lose myself in these colours. Green, just as the trees when night has fallen. Blue, just as the sun vanishes from sight. Black, just as the world ends and all other colours have vanished. Red…I flinch and drop the brush, listening to it clatter on the floor. I step back and feel the edge of my bed hit the back of my knees before I fall to sit upon it. My eyes are wide as I stare at the canvas. It reminds me of blood.

Not being able to stand the sight any longer, I throw the board in my hand, covered in blotches of paint, at the canvas. All clatter as the brush had.

“Fuck.” I let out a shuttered breath as my fingers run through my short chestnut hair. “Why must I be constantly reminded of it?” My words have an edge of defeat to them and yet are still laced with venom.

I honestly don’t know what to do anymore. Is there anything I can do? I highly doubt it. I will eventually end up in some basement of a rundown house, clutching my head between my hands, wishing I would die. Actually, I do that now. The only difference: I’m not in the basement of a rundown house. I’m simply in my room.

***

A week comes and goes as it always does. I go to school and come home. Even though it’s summer and I don’t need to, I took extra courses so I could stay away from home. Sadly, or luckily, I haven’t decided yet, I’m in a traffic jam. I want to go home so I can lock myself up in my room but if I do go home, the bastard is forcing me to accompany him to some meeting. Of course, I don’t want to go. He claims that it is necessary because I am his successor. Yay for me. The truth, when the bastard finally kicks the bucket, I will take all of his money, which is mine anyways, and move far, far away from here where all the memories can slowly eat away at my sanity. I will not run his business. I have my own dream.

I want to be a painter, like the artists on my walls.

I have researched and adopted the styles of many artists while searching for my own. Through dada, impressionism, modernism, and many more…I am only just beginning to discover my own style. Of course, there is no originality left, simply taking from many sources and seeing what you can do. It is what every artist has done. So I will as well.

“A murderous gleam…at least it’s something other than your usual evasive expression.” I decide not to respond and fix my mask. “A blush as well?” I turn my gaze from the boring scenery to him and that cold smirk.

“I’m not blushing.” That’s an obvious lie but I still try to deny it even as I feel blood rush to my cheeks in a slow manner.

“Indeed.” His smirk widens ever so slightly. I almost didn’t catch it.

I glare in response. We hold eye contact for what seems like an eternity before I give an aggravated sigh and watch the cars once again. Through my peripherals, I see him shake with a quiet chuckle.

“You may only be nineteen, twenty soon enough, but you should never lose this childish edge to your personality.” I turn back to him.

“I am not a child.”

“Why is that a bad thing? If you remain, in partial, a child, you will have a healthier life and live more carefree.”

“Whatever.” Again, I turn to the scenery.

We move an inch before we stop once more. I feel my right eye twitch ever so slightly. I turn to him again.

“I am not a child.” I repeat my words.

“I never said you were.”

“But-”

“You are allowing yourself to grow up far too quickly. If I were blind, I would envision an old man instead of a teenager about to enter his twenties.”

“Well I don’t care what you think.”

“Which is why you’re still arguing your point?” He raises an eyebrow to mock me.

I feel my teeth clench as we stare at each other. How I would love to strangle him right now…the windows are sound proof. I could wrap my fingers around his neck and slowly choke the life out of him. His voice cuts off the mental image of his slow death.

“You appear tough and feign apathy yet you crave for someone to break that mask so you can be yourself. But you are also afraid of who that person may be.” I open and close my mouth a few times, probably resembling a fish to him, before I can utter a response.

“That’s not true.” It’s weak and sounds almost whispered even to my own ears.

His expression becomes neutral as he reaches within his black suit jacket pocket to reveal a pack of cigarettes. The brand is foreign. I know this because the name doesn’t look familiar. I’ve seen all brands in the many meetings I’ve been forced to attend. He outstretches the hand with the pack towards me.

“Do you smoke?” I’m a little shocked that he’s not pestering me anymore.

“No.” He takes back his hand and removes a stick. “They cause health problems.”

He shrugs in response and pockets the pack where it belongs before pulling out a lighter next. It’s silver yet not quite. It holds a distinct touch of blue. The design on its surface is a dragon in gold lining. I watch as he lights the stick, eyelids slightly closed, half lidded, before the lighter clicks shut and returns to his pocket. He presses the button for the window to roll down and he blows the smoke out after taking a drag. Somehow, I’m transfixed by the simple movements that I’ve seen a million times but acted out by different people.

Even he smoked. But for some reason, this man, Katsu Urijuka, chased away that painful memory…and in its place, is this one.

***

I’m only half listening to the voices that flutter around the room. This meeting is to discuss the success of the bastard destroying a company and many lives in the process. I feel so proud of him. The meeting only lasts for an hour as all details and afterthoughts are shared and everyone is on their way to celebrate. This celebration is at one of these businessmen’s mansion. Again, I am being forced to go. I’m told that this trip to his home will take two hours. I dread the thought of sharing a ride there with all of these people.

“Is it really necessary for me to accompany you?” I ask the bastard as we all make a trip to the limos that are waiting for us.

“Of course it is. As my successor, you will learn that you must accept the hospitality of your partners when it is offered.”

“If I may intervene?” Urijuka places his hand on my right shoulder as he speaks. The bastard nods at him. “Perhaps Master Keijiru would prefer a different means of transportation.”

“Very well. You will be his driver.” I stare with wide eyes as the businessmen load themselves into limos and drive off.

Urijuka removes his hand when they leave and holds the door to his car open for me. I slowly turn towards him. Why did he help me? I don’t get it. His smirk widens at my lack of action and response.

“Would you prefer me to force you into my vehicle?”

I shake my head to clear the shock and seat myself in the passenger side of his car. Even this is foreign. I’m not sure where he got it or how. All I know is that it’s a black Ferrari Enzo. I’ve been in cars like this before so it’s not a big shock but it’s still interesting.

Because I was so absorbed in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized that we were already on our way. Since this is going to be a long drive, I toe off my shoes and place my socked feet on the seat. I loosen the dark red tie around my neck and unbutton the top two buttons of my off-white dress shirt. I then wrap my arms around my legs and stare out of the window to my right.

“You still have a childish mentality.” I close my eyes and let out a sigh.

“I do not.”

“The way you are sitting can prove otherwise.”

“I just want to be comfortable.”

“Comfort is something only meant for children. An adult gives that up.”

“So you’ve given up being comfortable?” I turn towards him and raise a brown eyebrow.

“In the sense of the way I sit, yes. But when you become an adult, other things can make you comfortable. For example: a job, a family, and so on. You are simply not ready to break the barrier that rests between being a child and being an adult.”

Again, he has made the words die in my throat. How can he constantly do that?! I have never met anyone like him. He’s intelligent and helps me. I feel myself wanting to give into this pull he has on me…but thoughts of my previous bodyguard surface…I turn my head away from him with a sharp movement and stare out of the window. Those thoughts are unwelcome and I don’t want them constantly thrown in my face. Why can’t I forget? Is it to warn me to never trust anyone ever again?

I glance towards Urijuka.

I don’t know what to do.

***

The two hours pass by at a slow rate. We both enter the man’s home. At times like these, they will all get drunk and play poker while complaining about everything. I will be left to my own devices which will be: getting drunk to block out memories and trying to avoid everyone. I’m very honest when I’m drunk and things that should remain only in my mind tend to slip out. My words don’t get slurred and my balance is only affected when my vision swims. But I would rather being sick than being honest and being unable to hold my tongue.

It takes just over an hour for everyone to get drunk and start playing card games. They switch from poker to black jack and poker once more. Those two are their favourite games. They refuse to play anything else. I’ve managed to take a bottle of some clear liquid and venture through the mansion. I drink one-third of the bottle before finding a piano. I sit before it and place the bottle next to me on the seat.

Music drifts around the room. My eyes slide shut. My hand easily finds the bottle when I want some. Seconds, minutes, and hours pass by. I only stop playing when I notice the bottle is empty. I utter a curse and hang my head in defeat.

“Here.” I feel something cold against the back of my neck. It doesn’t startle me though.

“Urijuka?” I lift my head as he sits down next to me. Is there really enough room for both of us on this thing? “What are you doing here?” I ignore the full bottle in his hand. I wonder if he’s had anything to drink.

“I was wondering where you had slipped off to.”

“How kind of you.” I roll my eyes and try to stand but I don’t walk yet.

My vision swims before me. I close my eyes and let out a slow breath. After a few minutes, I open my eyes and take a few steps before my vision attacks me again. This time, I have nothing to hold onto. I feel myself fall backwards. I prepare myself to land on the floor but I don’t. Two hands are on me. One is at my left elbow and the other is at my waist. My eyes are wide but I can’t move yet, my vision is still dizzying. I close my eyes again and wait.

“You know what?” Why did I have so much to drink?! Why did that bottle have to be so big?!

“Enlighten me.” Amusement laces his words.

“I never let anyone touch me.”

“Then I feel honoured.” I feel him shake with a chuckle.

“I used to never care but ever since he touched me, I’ve been like this. Even girls I won’t let touch me.”

“He?” My eyes snap open.

I take a few steps away from him and hold a hand over my mouth. I fall to my knees because the room is still spinning. How much alcohol was in that bottle? It wasn’t small like a cooler but still. I cover my face with both hands. Why did he have to find me? Why couldn’t I just be left alone?! I jump a little when I feel my wrists being pulled away. His expression is softer than normal.

“What-”

“Don’t! Please…don’t talk.” I bow my head and sigh. “Don’t make me talk.”

“As you wish.”

“If only-” My words are cut of instantly when he pulls me into his arms.

That effectively shuts me up for the night.

***

Am I…moving?

My eyes slowly slide open. A glance at my surroundings shows that I’m right. We’re on our way back home. Thank God…I need the comfort of my bed right now. I look over at Urijuka. He looks tired. How did I get in here anyways? At least I’m not drunk anymore. Sleeping always seems to rid the alcohol from my system, no matter how much I’ve drank.

“What happened?” His black eyes flick towards me for the briefest of seconds.

“You passed out and I carried you in here after a few minutes.”

“I haven’t been out long?”

“No.”

“What about the bast- I mean, my father?” An amused smirk forms across his face at my correction.

“He will be far too drunk to realize that you’ve gone home early.”

“Oh…alright.”

Why argue with that?

When we finally reach our destination, he gets out first and is at my door when I open it. He stands in my way and offers his hand. I raise an eyebrow.

“You are not yet stable enough to reach your room on your own.”

“Yeah right.” I roll my eyes and stand from the car without his help.

Big mistake.

I fall back slightly but before I can crash into the car, his arm wraps around my waist and steadies me. My cheeks heat up instantly. He rests me gently against the back door of his car and closes the passenger side door. I watch him as he does so. This time when he offers me his hand, I take it. He helps me to my room.

When he touches the doorknob, I place my hand over his. I shake my head and he accepts that. I don’t want him in there. It’s a place where I can call my own and have privacy.

Tonight…no nightmares entered into my dreams.