Chapter Text
The Koi Fish and the Pearl Necklace
Midorima Shintarō walked home from school along the path he always took. It wasn’t the most direct route home, but it was the one he was most comfortable with. There was something to be said for continuity. There was safety and familiarity in profoundly ingrained habits and a certain reassurance in retracing one’s well-worn steps.
He walked beneath the shade of the saffron ginkgo trees that lined the wide streets of the quiet residential neighborhood and was careful to avoid stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. His home was the one at the end of the block. The house itself was deeply ensconced within its large, lush lot and protected from prying eyes by a tall stone wall. Still, the cobalt blue roof tiles of the two-story structure revealed their beauty as they came into view when Shintarō approached the property.
Some of his classmates stopped at the konbini on the way home to share a popsicle, others stayed behind to shoot hoops at the park by school, but Shintarō made sure he headed home straight from practice. It wasn’t like any of the other kids ever asked him to join them. Besides, he was a big brother now. He had a baby sister he wanted to play with before he did his homework and practiced the piano and did everything he needed to do to prepare himself for the next day.
Shintarō had lived in the house with the blue roof all of his life, but he didn’t know any of his neighbors. He often played by himself behind the safety of the large stone wall that hid a sizable koi pond, a small tea house, and a meticulously landscaped, traditional garden.
His was the largest and grandest among a cluster of palatial homes on a quiet side street dotted with the dwellings of other well-to-do inhabitants which included a famous author and the ambassador of a country so large, it was its own continent. His father had traveled there once for a medical conference where he was the keynote speaker. Shintarō’s father was gone often.
Shintarō supposed his mother missed his father an awful lot when he was away on business. She would cry buckets when he wasn’t home. Then again, she did a lot of crying and yelling when he was home. Shintarō didn’t think he ever wanted to be married. He was glad their house was set on such a big lot where no passerbys could hear what went on inside, unlike the smaller homes that were pasted to each other near school.
He had forgotten the key to the front door this morning in his rush to get to school to attend an early morning, optional review class, but he wasn’t worried. There was always someone at home to let him in. He pushed the button on the intercom embedded into the stone wall next to a plaque bearing his family name and gave a small grin for the camera. The metal doors of the gate swung open instantly allowing him inside.
He made his way along the paved walkway and was pleased to find the front door already slightly ajar and waiting for him to push his way through.
There was no one there to greet him when he took his shoes off and left them behind in the genkan, but it didn’t bother Shintarō in the slightest. He knew that the house was teaming with people, they were just trained to remain behind the scenes and make their presence undetectable unless it was absolutely necessary. When he was younger, he used to like to think it was a long-running game of hide-and-seek. He wondered if that funny cyan-haired kid in his class had gone through the same training.
He walked into the large, spacious kitchen and took a bite of a cookie from a pile Nanny had left for him on the counter before reaching for the stainless-steel handle of the double-door refrigerator. There, on the inside of the door, was a row of chilled oshiruko cans for his taking. He allowed himself a single can a day as a reward for his hard work – good nutrition and denying baser impulses was important to Shintarō’s self-disciplined existence – even though he didn’t think there would be anyone to tell him any better if he decided to drink all of them at once. He wasn’t sure who refilled the space the can he took had vacated, but there was always exactly eight of them waiting for him when he got home the next day.
He picked up his school bag off the counter and made his way upstairs. He imposed upon himself a strict after school regimen and homework was always the primary order of business when he got home. Shintarō wanted to become a doctor so he could attend medical conferences and see his father more often.
But first he stopped by the nursery to see his little sister. Unlike the other people who worked at the house, Nanny didn’t play hide-and-seek. She was always visible and always gave Shintarō a big smile when she saw him. People didn’t often smile at Shintarō.
She hadn’t been Shintarō’s nanny. This nanny had come along when his sister was born. Shintarō’s last nanny had gone away after he’d accidentally called her “Mommy.” She must not have liked that very much and Shintarō made sure not to repeat that mistake again.
Nanny was on the floor of the nursery helping Shuzuko play with a set of building blocks. He sat down beside them and the baby climbed onto his lap. She was such a happy little girl and he loved her dearly.
Shintarō had been an only child for 10 years before Shuzuko arrived. When she was born, it was like a ray of sunshine in the house. For a while, his father had been home almost every day to spend time with the new baby and his mother had been so pleased.
He didn’t want to leave the baby, but he couldn’t afford to put off his homework much longer. He still had piano practice and exactly 60 minutes of leisurely reading to do before Nanny called him down to dinner. He picked up his school bag off the floor of the nursery, kissed the top of Shuzuko’s emerald green hair and bade farewell to Nanny who smiled fondly at him.
On the way to his room he saw a suitcase outside his parents’ bedroom and felt a pang of excitement when he realized his father had unexpectedly come home. He hadn’t seen him since summer break and the leaves were already starting to turn colors.
He burst into the large master bedroom only to find his mother there packing her things. She was crying again.
“You’re leaving,” he said stating the obvious, yet not quite believing his eyes.
“Shintarō go to your room,” she ordered not bothering to look at him. It was neither an affirmation nor a denial.
There were three suitcases on the large bed, cracked open and filled with her things.
“Please, don’t leave,” he said dropping his school bag, not caring where it landed or that in its half-open state it spewed its contents onto the floor of his parents’ bedroom, including a soft, green hand puppet.
“You don’t know what you are asking of me.” She told him. “You don’t understand my circumstances.”
In his desperation he threw his arms around her slender waist.
It wasn’t a hug, not really. Hugging was not something they did in their family. His father hardly touched him and at best his mother would pat the top of his head on occasion. What he was trying to accomplish was to anchor her down using all of his weight.
He was tall for his age (taller even than some of his male teachers) and towered considerably over his tiny mother. He couldn’t help but think how very small and fragile she felt. And yet he was terrified of her. Terrified of what she would do to him if she walked out of his life. It was that desperate thought that prompted the normally quite middle schooler to plead with her, “Please don’t do this.”
"I'm not in a good place."
"But this is your home," he begged.
“Shintarō, you are creasing the fabric,” she said firmly, as she removed her son’s hands from her silk obi.
“But I did everything I could to prepare myself today.” At least he thought he had, but he must have missed something because she was leaving. “I’ll be better, I promise.”
“Shintarō, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You are being a child,” she said to her young son. “You must not cry. You’ll set a bad example for your sister.”
If he couldn’t get her to stay, then at least he could wait for her. “When are you coming back?” he asked.
“Honestly, Shintarō, these questions.” She zipped the last of her suitcases.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
Sazuna sighed in exasperation. “I don’t know.” Slender, freshly manicured hands dried tear-stained cheeks, mindful of the thick, black rimmed glasses that resided there. It was an unguarded moment of tenderness so uncharacteristic of his mother that it made him sob audibly.
She let her hands fall to her sides quickly as if they’d touched something hot and painful. She averted his eyes and turned her back on him. Her obi was tied in a taiko musubi and depicted a lonely embroidered koi struggling to swim beneath a strong and overpowering waterfall.
“Nanny Hamasaki is here, Shintarō,” she reminded him, refusing to turn around. “She’ll cook you breakfast and make your lunch and tuck you in to bed at night the way she always does.”
Her back was still turned to him as he watched her reach for the gold, oyster-shaped clasp of her South Sea pearl necklace. It had been a present from Shintarō’s father on their first wedding anniversary. Sazuna hardly ever took it off.
She walked over to her vanity. Nestled among her pretty knickknacks was the elegant navy blue velvet box it had come in. She placed the strand inside closed the lid and left them behind.
AN: If you follow me on Tumblr, you'll know I've spent the last six months writing MidoTaka drabbles based on this prompt meme. Now that I'm finally done, I will be updating this story more frequently. If you'd prefer not to wait for the chapter updates and don't mind reading the prompts out of order, you can find them all on my fic page. Though I suspect there will be some changes/edits made to the prompts as I post them here.