Akashika Ozo - Tumblr Posts

Chapter 2

'Another day wasted.'

It was the first thought to come to your mind when you had awoken the next day, the sun already high above the horizon and glaring through your windows.

You didn't feel well rested, despite having slept for hours on end. Your mind was tired, your heart still ached, you didn't feel as if you had the strength to open your eyes. You just lay there on your bed, unmoving and unbothered.

You would have stayed there all day, had it not been for your hunger. Clutching at your stomach in pain, you remembered how you had barely eaten anything the previous day, too busy wallowing in self pity to even think about eating.

With a groan, you slowly sat up on the edge of your mattress, blinking away the sudden head rush that came with the movement. The floorboards felt cold beneath your feet, sending shivers up your spine as you placed them flat on the wooden flooring. You rubbed at your eyes as you stood up, stumbling out of your bedroom to go and wash up.

It was unbearably hot in your living room, prompting you to open up the patio doors to allow some air inside, the humidity increasing as a new wave of warm air wafted into the room. The echoing sounds of cicadas that rested on tree trunks beyond your fencing filled the air, buzzing and buzzing until that white noise in your mind was finally cancelled out.

You chewed slowly on your food, maybe to waste more time so that the sun would go down and you could go back to sleep. But it was barely noon and the sun was still hovering high in the sky, scorning you with its intense rays as if to punish you for wishing it to leave. It was going to be a long summer's day, and you were already sick of it.

Sick.

You suddenly placed your half-eaten plate of food down with a clatter as you scrambled to your feet, slapping a hand desperately over your mouth as you felt it rise and boil in your throat, barely making it to the bathroom as your stomach spewed out bile into the sink.

It was happening again, you realised as you continued to gag, fumbling to turn the tap on to wash away the disgusting sight before you, prompting you to choke again. It was all going so well, and now it's happening again. Tears welled in your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Just make it stop. Please make it stop.

Your legs finally collapsed from beneath you and you tumbled to the tiled floor, hands still clutched to the edge of the basin as you crouched down, head low and breaths heavy. A cold sweat had broken out over your skin, leaving you shivering and abnormally feverish.

It wasn't fair, you thought miserably. Nothing had happened. Nothing had gone wrong. But apparently something did go wrong. Things always go wrong. You can never seem to be at peace, no matter what you try. The sudden waves of anxiety that hit you when you least expected it wasn't your fault. And yet it was entirely your fault. Nothing made sense. Nothing ever made sense. You were too stupid to understand. You could never understand.

'If only I didn't go outside yesterday.'

But it still would have happened. This would still have happened. You didn't know why, but it would have. Because that's just how it works. It's not supposed to work that way. But for you, it does. You didn't need to understand. You just needed to let it happen. Even if you didn't want it to. You have no power, no control. Just fall to your knees and cry, as you always do. That's how it always works.

You stood up shakily, hesitantly staring back at the face in the mirror. She looked better than you did. Smiling, happy, glad she was behind the glass and wasn't there with you.

You blinked, and the image changed. That was you. You, with the messy hair and the dark, tired eyes, the sickly skin and pinched cheeks, frail and weak, gaze sullen and dazed. Lost and confused. Sad and pitiful. That was who you were.

Unable to look any longer, you twisted the faucet back on, cupping handfuls of cold water and splashing it over your face multiple times, scrubbing harshly at your eyes and mouth, rinsing it out to get rid of the sickening taste of bile. You didn't dare look back into the mirror as you grabbed your towel, rubbing it over your face and tossing it aside before exiting the bathroom.

Breakfast didn't sound appetising anymore, and you regretfully threw the rest of the food away. You stood in the middle of your living room, glancing around from the couch to the TV, to the console next to it, to the small bookshelf stuffed with a few books you had decided to keep for whatever reason, your fingers furling and unfurling against your palms.

They finally landed on a slim, black, hard-cover book shoved lopsidedly into the bottom shelf, it's ringed binder hanging out over the edge of the dark wood.

You reached for it, gingerly pulling it out of the shelf with the tips of your fingers, holding it at arms length as if it were some kind of wild animal. The first few pages were frayed and withered, but the rest were crisp and clean, untouched and unused.

You stared and stared at the tough cover, running your gaze over the blank darkness, as if you were searching for something. But you knew everything you were searching for was inside the book. The courage to look was dwindling away as time tricked by.

You suddenly grasped the corner of the cover, flipping it open with force and coming to a halt at the sight of the first page. All you saw was coloured blotches, streaking across the otherwise empty paper in messy lines. The blues and greens merged together in a disgusting mesh of hues, the watery disarray of paint unable to form any real structure.

After staring at it for a long while, face stoic, you flipped over to the next page. The paper was stiff and wrinkled, less like paper and more like cardboard, crackling with the slightest amount of pressure applied to it.

It was just the same as the previous one, if not, worse. You couldn't look at it for longer than a couple of minutes before moving on, and that time hastily shortened down to a few seconds until you finally reached a blank page.

With a shaky breath, you grabbed a pencil from one of the pots on your shelf and silently seated yourself down at the low table behind you. You hovered the lead over the white canvas, carefully moving it along with your hand, the sound of the pencil scratching against the paper filling your ears.

Your arm made jerky movements, wrist flicking left and right as you attempted to make an outline of something you had seen before, with the lead eroding away ever so slowly with each stroke. You watched your hand wander to every corner of the paper, pausing with a flinch every now and then when it moved just a little too far off the intended path.

The clock ticked on and on, seconds to minutes to hours, with you sat at the low table in the bright light of the sun in your living room, scratch, scratch, scratching away, even as your pencil became blunt, forcing it to mark out the lines of a seemingly misshapen landscape, thin and delicate lines becoming thick and crooked veins.

It wasn't until the pencil began stabbing the paper with its splintered tip that you finally stopped, moving your hand off the page to look down at the horrible mess you had made. It was the same picture as the others, only much, much more awful, with less colour and less sense of mind.

That same stoic face stared down at the page. Your grip on your pencil was now limp, your hand dropping to the floor by your side and the tool now slipping from your fingers, rolling over the floor and out of your reach.

You can't do anything right, can you?

The sting of tears in your eyes was going to drive you mad. You stood back up, ignoring the needle-like numbness in your lower limbs as you staggered to your bedroom, the urge to get out of the deathly silent house growing stronger.

You changed out of your clothes into an oversized beige hoodie and shorts, thinking that it wouldn't draw attention to yourself, only to realise that it would draw attention because what kind of idiot would wear a hoodie in the middle of summer? So you tossed it aside and pulled on a white vest and a grey dress-shirt on top instead, thankful that the loose fitting clothing would at least cover your curves.

You slipped on the first pair of sneakers you saw and left the house, your keys, purse and phone stuffed into your back pockets. You stood in front of your door for a moment, unsure of where to go, then ultimately decided that it really didn't matter, and you turned left and started walking.

You kept your head low, hands awkwardly swaying by your sides, unsure of where to put them because you had no other pockets. The sun was lower in the sky now, gently stretching your shadow behind you as you walked further and further down the street, following it wherever it took you because who cares where you would end up?

As always, there was no one outside besides you. The gentle patter of your footsteps against the cobbled pathway was the only sound you could hear besides the familiar twitter of birds above you. It was moments like these when you began to miss the sounds of the city, with its constant bustling streets and roads filling that emptiness in the air and somewhat reassuring you that you weren't completely alone in this world.

But here, you were. You were entirely alone.

You always thought you would be okay with that, and yet you were now hating it more than anything. How pathetic.

Glancing upwards, you noticed with a blink that the houses in the village were now far behind you. You paused, turning to look over your shoulder to see the shrunken structures in the distance, and your surroundings were instead replaced with rolling green fields of tall grass, mutely swaying in the breeze. How long had it been since you had started walking?

Despite your confusion, you turned back around and continued onward. You shouldn't think about it too much. You didn't want to think at all anymore.

And so, you walked. You walked and walked and walked. You had no idea where the road was headed towards, you had no idea if you were even in the Akashika District at that point, but that was fine. The unknown was welcomed with open arms. Anything to keep your mind quiet.

Unfortunately for you, though, all good things must come to an end. That end came far too quickly when your legs and feet began to ache. Your body was becoming tired — most likely due to you not having any food in your system — and your shortness of breath under the brutal summer heat was making your head spin. You needed to stop soon, unless you wanted to faint.

With great reluctance, you steered yourself to the side of the road, kneeling down with your knees tucked into your chest and your forearms hanging over them. You pushed your hair away from your face, disliking the sweat accumulating on your temple. Whilst you caught your breath, you looked back again down the road you had walked up, and the town was now a lot smaller than it was before.

You would have to walk back there eventually, you reminded yourself, and you outwardly groaned. You didn't want to do that. But you guessed it was your own fault, anyway. You deserved this. It's the consequence of your actions, isn't it? You acted irrationally, and now you had to suffer further.

The sound of a car horn startled you from your thoughts. You whipped your head over to your right with wide eyes, watching as a white car rolled to a stop a few feet ahead of you, its tires crunching against the dirt. The engine died down into silence as you heard the clutch being pulled into place with a squeak, catching a brief glimpse of a shadowy silhouette through the windscreen as it shuffled to get out of the car.

You were frozen in place as you watched a man step out of the vehicle, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes as he regarded you with a curious look, raising a brow as he stepped closer. His rounded face looked so familiar, as well as those large, half-lidded eyes, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. He wore a white shirt complete with a deep blue tie, which hung loosely under his unbuttoned collar. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black slacks, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow, exposing his forearms.

"Are you okay there?" He asked, sauntering to a stop as he stood over you. You stared up at him, breath caught in your throat, unsure of what to say. No, you were not okay, but you couldn't just tell people that, could you? You had to be okay, you had to be normal.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." You attempted to smile, the strain of forcibly stretching your lips across your cheeks paining you greatly, and you would have kept it up if the man hadn't frowned at you. The smile that was more akin to a grimace slowly slipped off of your face, replaced by a nervous pinch to your lower lip instead.

"You don't look 'fine' to me," he stated bluntly, leaning down a little so that his head was mere inches away from your own. "What are you doing all the way out here on the ground?"

You inched yourself back slightly, wobbling under the uneven balance on your limbs. Excuses, you had to come up with excuses, but that was becoming an increasingly difficult task when the man interrogating you seemed to know that you were lying before you even spoke.

Just as you were about to lose your balance in your crouched position, he grabbed onto your upper arm to steady you. The warmth radiating from his palm seeped through your sleeve, your already boiling skin heating up further from the touch. You felt your cheeks heat up, too, the unfamiliar touch of this (admittedly attractive) man leaving you in a slight daze.

"I-I was just out for a walk, and I got tired, that's all," you quickly stammered, unable to look him in the eyes lest you burst into flames. His scrutinising look didn't falter, instead increasing as he squinted at you harshly.

"You look like you're gonna faint. I think you're a little more than tired, lady."

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest at his words. You were fine, totally fine, why couldn't he just accept that?

You gasped as you suddenly felt yourself being lifted off the ground, your arms pulled forward as he forced you to follow behind him. He was leading you to his car, his grip on you firm as if to say that you didn't have a choice.

"Where are you taking me?" You couldn't exactly trust a man you had just met so easily. He stopped in his tracks, turning to look back at you with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ah, sorry! I'm gonna look weird if I just start dragging you over here, huh?" He released your arms to bow mockingly, peering up at you through one eye as the other closed in a wink.

"The name's Akashika Ozo. Taxi driver, at your service." He grinned widely, seemingly proud of himself for the little skit he had pulled. Ozo straightened back up, taking a hold of your forearm tenderly this time and gesturing towards his car. "I was just planning on giving you a lift to wherever it is you're going. If you want one, that is."

Chapter 3

A cold beer can was pressed against your cheek, the cool water droplets smearing across your skin as you sighed blissfully. Ozo released his hold on you as you settled down onto the back seats of his taxi, leaning against the door frame as he brushed away the hair from his eyes.

"The AC doesn't work in here, so this is all I can do for you." You nodded, quietly thanking him before he shut the door, moving towards the driver's seat and strapping in. "You were headed for Iriabi, right?"

You paused, glancing at the back of his head.

"Iriabi...?"

"Yeah. That's where this road leads to. Want me to drop you off?"

"Uh.. N-No, I live in Akatsuka, so..." You were too embarrassed to say out loud that you had never heard of Iriabi before, and you shrunk down a little into your seat to try and avoid his gaze in the rear view mirror. Ozo raised a brow at your reaction but shrugged nonetheless, starting up the car and getting it into gear as it began rolling slowly down the uneven road, gradually picking up speed.

"Akatsuka, huh?" he continued, not wasting the opportunity to start some small talk with a pretty girl, "I've never seen you around before! And I never forget cute faces like yours once I've seen 'em." He winked back at you through the mirror, chuckling at how your mouth feel agape at his obvious flirting.

"Maybe a name for your face might help me remember?"

The sensible side of your brain was already screaming at the man for being so shameless with those dumb and cringe-worthy pickup lines, as if he had the audacity to think that they were good. But after being alone for so long, after having virtually no one to talk to like this for months on end, and especially after being complimented so nicely for the first time in who knows how long, as sad as it may sound, your heart jumped for joy and craved for more.

"It's [L/N] [Y/N]."

"[Y/N]..." he murmured, as if tasting the word in his tongue curiously, his lips twisting into a cheeky grin, "Suits you! Pretty name for a pretty girl!"

You stammered out another word of thanks, pinching the skin of your arm as a reminder to not to get ahead of yourself. You pushed away the hopeful thoughts from your mind, knowing that he wasn't serious. No one had ever been serious before, and this wasn't any different. Right?

The car ride back to Akatsuka village was a lot shorter then the walk would have been, and you found yourself re-entering the town after around ten minutes. Ozo had filled that small silence with gentle hums of a song you didn't recognise and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, his demeanour a lot more relaxed and slack compared to your tense form.

"What's your address? I'll drop you off!" His sudden question startled you out of your quiet stupor, and you quickly gave him the street name.

"Do you need directions?"

"Nah! I know this town like the back of my hand," he bragged, making a quick right turn as he rubbed his index finger under the bridge of his noise. True to his word, he managed to navigate his way through the wide and empty streets until he finally pulled the car to a halt outside your front door.

"Here's your stop!" He chuckled to himself, watching as you began to clamber out of the car, beer can still in your grasp. You came up to his window, too busy taking out your purse to notice him eye the meter momentarily before turning to you with the same curved smile.

"Did I forget to tell you? First timers get a free ride!"

You paused, staring at him wide eyed. Surely that wasn't a real thing?

"A-Are you sure? I have money--"

"Don't worry about it! You don't need to pay me a single yen."

"I... Well, thank you," was all you could say. You barely had enough energy to continue interacting anymore. You just wanted to go inside and lie down in front of your fan for the rest of the day. The air was stifling.

"It's nothing..!" Ozo's mind flew to his boss, knowing he wouldn't approve of him doing this, but then again there were many things his boss didn't approve of. This one would just have to be swept under the rug.

"Have a nice day," you bowed hastily, turning on your heel and heading to your front door, keys already grasped tightly between your fingers. Ozo flailed for words, not wanting to let you go just yet, but you were already halfway through the door, your face obscured by your strands of hair.

"You too, sweetheart! Maybe I'll see you again sometime!"

»»-----　♔　-----««

He never got a verbal response, only the sound of your door shutting behind you, the noise bouncing off the walls of nearby buildings and echoing around him. He sat back in his seat, rubbing his finger once again under his nose, grinning to himself.

"Nailed it."

Ozo began manoeuvring his car away from your home, sending one final glance back to your house through the side mirror before it disappeared from view.

Now that he was alone again, the quietness in his car and the town was really starting to bore him. It hadn't even been that long since he finished his break over at Iriabi with his youngest brother, but he felt as if he deserved another. It wasn't like there were going to be many people who needed a lift around here, anyway.

With a soft hum, Ozo diverted his car from the main road and set off down a smooth stone pathway instead, the grass on the edges of the road now becoming more clean cut and less wild and untamed.

Over the line of trees that were bunched together in the distance, he could make out two large and familiar houses, the sun glinting off of their grey tiled roofs. His eyes drifted over to the one on the right, with the roof being slightly lower and flatter compared to the other.

A smirk spread across his face as a thought drifted through his mind, and he pressed his foot down further onto the gas.

Rolling up in front of white stone fencing with the entrance carefully carved into a large circular shape, Ozo wasted no time in driving the car through the entrance and parking it in front of the wooden sliding doors at the front of the house. He left the car to sit in the gravelled driveway, whistling as he swung his keys around his index finger before allowing it to slip into his pocket.

He knocked loudly on the door, rocking back and forth on his heels as his brown orbs wandered around his surroundings, noticing the same coloured flowers and neatly cut hedges that were there the last time he was there, which seemed like such a long time ago. The sign with the words 'Midorito Estate' carved into it looked as if it had just been freshly polished, the wood surface shining smoothly under the sun.

The heat was starting to really irritate him by the time the door was slid open, revealing a man dressed in a grey yukata, whose eyes were narrowed and lips pulled into a scowl at the sight of Ozo on the other side of the door.

"Chorosuke! Long time no see!" Ozo cheerily greeted with a lazy wave of his hand.

"You were literally here just last night, Ozo," Chorosuke growled, his words turning into a strained yelp as Ozo simply walked past him.

"Well, it's been a long day for me." Kicking his shoes off with little grace or care for where they landed, Ozo swiftly evaded the angered hands of Chorosuke as they attempted to throttle him, easily navigating his way to the main sitting room and flopping himself down onto the tatami flooring in front of a large fan.

"Who said you could come in here?!" Ozo grumbled lowly, ignoring the man as he shut his eyes and relished in the cold wind as it breezed across his face, sifting through his hair and traversing down his neck. The collar of his shirt flapped noisily under the fan's wind, the whirring of its many hands almost enough to drown out Chorosuke's berating.

Almost.

"You're lucky I don't call the police on you! Do you have any idea what that would do to my family name?!"

"Yeah yeah, I heard ya' the last time you told me. Just relax.... We're brothers, anyway, aren't we?" Ozo's voice was already groggy with sleepiness, the whole ambiance of the room very close to lulling him to sleep.

Chorosuke stood by the door, a tense look in his eyes as he registered Ozo's words.

The word 'brother' was still foreign to him. It left an odd taste on his tongue whenever he spoke the word, and an equally odd ring in his ear when he heard it. All his life he had been brought up with his one and only younger sister, but now over the past two years, a handful of men show up with the same face as him, and one of them claiming them all to be long lost brothers.

It might not be far from the truth, especially with the fair bits of evidence he had seen, but even so...

"Hey, you got any beer? My stash ran out."

...Even so, how could he be related to such an idiot?

"Is that all you ever come here for?" Chorosuke grumbled, reluctantly moving over to a door on the far left wall which lead to the kitchen and grabbing a beer can from the fridge. He shut the fridge door, only to open it a moment later to grab a can for himself. He was going to need it if he was now forced to deal with that in his living room.

"If it's free, I'll take it," Ozo chuckled as the other returned, gladly taking the beverage and briefly pressing it to his warm neck before cracking it open.

"Then I'll charge you next time."

"You're already rich enough!"

Chorosuke hid the small smile threatening to break onto his lips behind his drink, turning his head away to peer outside of the opened doors revealing his vast and beautifully decorated back garden. It was the same blue sky, he noted, and it looked just as serene as it did when he saw it last.

"I'm surprised Toshio isn't with you today. Actually, that's probably a good thing..." Chorosuke began. He was more used to the two menaces storming his house at the same time instead of on separate occasions.

Ozo shrugged, "I haven't seen him all day. Who knows what he's doing..." A stretch of silence passed before Ozo suddenly snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up. "Oh yeah! Did you make the call yet?"

"I managed to reach them this morning," Chorosuke nodded. "They'll be here by tomorrow night, if they're not swamped with work."

"That quick? I thought they'd be here by the end of the week!"

"Well, Hajime is unemployed, so he has plenty of time on his hands, and Karatsugu is barely paid attention to in his office. I'm not too surprised."

Ozo made a small noise of agreement. A soft smile stretched across his lips as he gazed at the fully grown maple tree sat in the centre of Chorosuke's garden. It had been a while since he and his brothers had gotten together, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't excited. The memories of the last time they gathered together under the same roof made him giddy with anticipation as to what havoc they would wreak this time around.

His thoughts swirled back and forth through his mind for a while before one particular thought lingered in front of his mind, allowing his smile to morph into an impish grin. He elbowed Chorosuke beside him to garner his attention, who only stared at him with an unimpressed grimace.

"Guess what, guess what?" He was already snickering. Chorosuke knew he didn't want to hear whatever this story was going to be, but he had no other choice, unfortunately.

"....What?" He sighed.

"I'm pretty sure I picked up a hitch hiker off the road today," Ozo began, "and she was super pretty. Like, gorgeous."

"And why are you telling me this?"

"Because! Don't you wanna hear about how big her boo-"

"Shut up!" Chorosuke hissed, grabbing a newspaper from nearby and smacking the roll over his target's head. Ozo only chuckled, barely moving away from his attacker. "What if Dayoko was to hear you?! You have no manners whatsoever, you dolt!"

"You say that, but your face is so red!" Ozo began to cackle with laughter, his free hand smacking his knee. Chorosuke stammered, a sweat now breaking out on his temple as he attempted to right himself.

"I-It is not! Just stop talking about it!"

"Aww, but I'm serious! It's been so long since I've seen a new face as cute as hers," Ozo sighed dreamily, his gaze now distant as he remembered your features, your voice, the little ticks of nervousness throughout the whole taxi ride... "And I know where she lives, too! So I can visit her whenever!"

"Please don't. That's just creepy. Borderline stalking," Chorosuke shook his head. He went to take another sip of his beer, only to find the can already empty. Ozo shook his, also finding it devoid of his favourite alcoholic drink. He gave Chorosuke a pointed look, eliciting a groan from him.

He stood up to fetch another beer. Maybe something stronger this time.