This morning, Dad and The Boy went shopping and all but bought the whole store. True, this October was colder than usual, but The Boy thought it was too early to start stocking up to last a whole winter. He had asked his father if they were planning to hibernate or something, to which the man had no reply. All day he kept checking his text messages from Akitake Goto, who apparently was still pestering him, despite the father having blocked his number multiple times. Tensions were high all morning, and The Boy guessed – though Dad said little out loud these past few weeks – that the 800,000 yen he owed still wasn't paid off and was maybe even gaining digits.
After a very tense and quiet fast food brunch where Dad stared at his phone the entire time, The Boy and his father dragged their numerous brown bags through the small apartment doorframe. Dad dropped the sacks of rice at the foot of the counter and asked him to help unload things into the kitchen while he went immediately to the desk in his room to check some banking information. When the man was gone for only a moment, there was a knock on the front door.
"Dad!" the youth called, "Someone's at the door!"
There was no answer.
"Do you want me to get it??"
Not a sound came from the master bedroom, the man was probably too immersed in his anxiety to even hear his son's voice. The Boy went to the door and cracked it open, not unlatching the chain, to see who was there (because apparently these shoddy apartments were too cheap to even include peek-holes for the doors.) The teen near wet himself, finding a man's face close above his against the door from the other side. His bird-like eyes scanning the child sadistically.
"G-Goto-san...?" the teen recognized the man; he'd seen him visit his father a long time ago before all this trouble started.
"Heya, kid." The man slurred, pressing closer to the door still, "Undo this lock for me?"
The Boy pressed his shoulder against the door, pushing it closed with all his might but the man had his boot jammed in the hinge.
"Fine. Have it your way." the latter sang drolly and relented.
The door slammed abruptly shut under the child. An instant later the knob was barged back at him from the outside, knocking him flat on his back on the floor mat. Scooting back quickly The Boy jumped to his feet as Goto-san let himself in and closed the door, busted with its knob loosely rattling against the frame.
Goto-san was emaciated and thin-faced, and he had a cigarette hanging from his wrinkly mouth.
"Dad...!" The Boy called, his voice cracking a little.
"Aight, runt, let's cut the crap." said the intruder's gratingly croaky drawl, leaning forward with hands on his lanky knees. "Ya probably noticed your pops and me got ourselves into a lil' bit of a pickle; owes me a big-ass check. So how 'bout you and me make a little deal, hm?"
"Get out of our house." The Boy scowled.
"Here's the deal," the man went on carelessly, "Ya sneak into your pop's safe, get my money, and I give ya half the sum. Shake on it?"
The Boy's throat went rigid at the smell of his cig. "As if you'd actually give me a single yen of it..." He retorted, covering his mouth and masking a cough.
Goto-san urged, "Okay, how 'bout I give ya half the sum and some very interesting picture books. Used to read 'em all the time when I was your age. How old are ya now? Twelve?"
"Almost fourteen." The teen snapped.
"Yeah, ya'd love 'em!"
The Boy glared. "I don't know what kind of hormonal moron you think I am but I'm not going to get into my Dad's money just for some second-hand pornos. Get out of our house!"
YOU ARE READING
The Sound of Snow
Fanfiction"When you first get to see your shinki's history, you obviously aren't going to remember every single image. Sure, that was still the case when I first named Yukiné, but I do remember his more vividly than that of any other servant I've ever branded...
