2013-10-17 - A Father's Grief

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Daigo sat by Sakuyo's side, his head lowered.

"What am I going to do with you," he said. Sakuyo simply glared at him from the hospital bed.

He sighed. "I guess it won't do any good to ask what you were really doing out there," he said. Sakuyo glared. "Or to ask you, please, to behave yourself. What would your mother--"

"Don't you dare say her name!" Sakuyo shouted, bolting up in bed. Daigo stung as if slapped. She stared at Daigo with hate in her eyes, until the moment subsided. Then she fell back to the bed, sandwiching her head between the two ends of her pillow.

"...you don't want to talk to me. Fine," Daigo said, standing up and walking to the entrance of the room. He picked up a small black ornament and returned, holding it out. "But I want to know what this is." The ornament had a delicate thorn lattice. On its top, a bloom on its top like the end of a brush; on its bottom, a needle, though it curiously stood upright, like a perfectly balanced top. Sakuyo's eyes widened in recognition. "That," she began. "The girl who you were fighting - and I know you were fighting again - left it with you. She said it was yours," Daigo said.

"...leave it on the table," said Sakuyo. "I want to know what it is," Daigo pressed, anger creeping into his voice. There was no reply. "Dammit, Sakuyo! Are you stealing? Is this from some museum somewhere? What have you been doing all these nights?!" He slammed his palm into the tray of the food cart next to him, spilling the remains of the evening's meal on the floor.

No reply.

Daigo crossed his arms, and his head fell into his lap. "Sakuyo," he said quietly, his voice strained, but no longer in anger. "Sakuyo, please..."

No reply.