𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 → fushiguro toji x reader

02. | the voice of a protest

You've always had it easy in life, or at least, that's what people around you constantly say. It's a heavy reminder, for lack of a better word, one that echoes in your head incessantly, sometimes irritating you to the point of exasperation.

Your mother would always tell you to pay them no mind, and you did, to some extent. You ignore them as best you can, keeping your mouth shut even as a scowl paints your face. But, your mind is a different matter entirely.

You've never met your father—the man who brought the Fujiwara Company to unprecedented heights—because he passed away months before your mother gave birth to you, and the only image of him you have in your mind is the extravagant portrait you see every time you take the first step inside your family's mansion.

Sometimes, you wish you had a father.

You have no brothers or sisters, and being the only child that you are, the family business, the company, is practically guaranteed to be in your hands. It's a suffocating reality to confront, the weight of owning and navigating such a large company in the future, and it never gets easier to face.

Sometimes, you wish you had siblings.

Many others in the Fujiwara Company—namely your greedy uncle and his two children—do not like the fact that the company will fall into your hands, and they don't bother trying to hide it, most of the time.

They would praise you, shower you with affectionate pats and sharp practiced smiles, but deep down, you know the truth is clear. Behind those greedy eyes of theirs lay only envy and hate, a wish for you and your mother to vanish completely.

You would only nod in reply,

Because sometimes, you feel that you'd do just about anything to feel a little less alone.

After graduating at the top of your class, littering your room with medallions of gold from every competition you won, you choose to stay by your mother's side at the Fujiwara company, diligently learning her methods and everything else important.

Your uncle and cousins always have much to say whenever you get even the slightest thing wrong, but as you grow older, you've come to learn that simply moving past them is best. After all, you don't want to start a fight when it will benefit neither you nor your mother.

And things would have continued that way for a long time until you eventually assumed the role of the main face of the company. You accepted that.

But things took an unexpected turn when your mother collapsed one day.

—

In the morning, your mother lies deeply asleep. In the oversized hospital bed, her breaths are steady.

By midday, she remains asleep. She does not wake, not even to your tears and screams.

Evening descends. Her heart rate is slowing, and there is no cause, no remedy in sight.

With the setting sun, the flatline's mournful hum fills the room.

Your mother is gone.

And amidst the sorrow, you realize you can't even remember her last words to you the day before.

—

"You must be [Name], right? Fujiwara [Name]?"

"I thought that'd be obvious enough by now, wouldn't it?" you quietly snap back before turning your eyes to the source of the voice. It is a familiar man with short black hair and a thin mustache dressed in all black, a man whom you've seen conversing with your mother some months ago in her office.