*
The only place where he felt any sense of location was in his bedroom; an environment molded to his liking and the only place in the world where he felt like he had any control. However, when he returned to its familiarity and safety, it didn’t settle his mind but only prompted deeper thinking.
His bag dropped heavily on the carpet and then he covered his eyes with the palms of his hands, exhaled then tried to get his thoughts in order. Kioshi’s fingers spread apart, opening his eyes to the bright, white walls surrounding him. He wanted these walls to purify his mind and help him to find the answers that he sought but no matter how hard Kioshi drank in the plainness, the answers wouldn’t come.
What did Seiya believe? What crossed her mind? Did she struggle with the same thoughts I have? Kioshi walked up to his window tinted black that he was able to look through unlike the buildings in his school.
Seiya... You must never have found the answers to the questions that tormented you. Or... Was death your answer? You could have had any sort of mind: questioning like mine, thoughtful or maybe confused. Maybe you were a more intelligent person than me and concluded that death was the only logical answer to your problem. Should I follow your lead? Or were you simply scared, nonchalant or a coward?
Kioshi then remembered the disapproving resolve of his peers, how they didn’t have the same enthusiasm as him to want to take their future in their hands. He realized that he was more alone than he had thought which felt impossible. It was one thing to be alone physically but, being alone emotionally was even greater torture.
Feeling weak all of a sudden, Kioshi sat at his desk, holding his head, feeling a headache coming. In addition to this feeling, he felt a wave of agitation and anger rising to the surface – the result of the day coming together. The mixture of feelings disgusted him as it made him feel less than human – it wasn’t good to hold onto such raw feelings of hatred.
What Kioshi hated the most wasn’t the way the world worked but himself; how he lived to search for answers and to figure out how the world worked. The answers he found were often ugly ones and it only made his hate stronger. In the end he hated himself because he couldn’t stand this curious mind and he simply couldn’t live with the answers and truths that he found; they only inspired more hate.
Kioshi’s tired eyes were glazed over as he sat, hand partially covering his lips as he thought. He knew that he shouldn’t be angry because being angry would only serve to make him feel terrible. Without thinking he left his room, his socked feet crossing the corridor softly but stopped for a moment to listen to the silence.
In the kitchen now, he opened the fridge, plucking from the door a half-filled bottle of milk, Kioshi drank from it thoughtlessly, his mind focused on the quiet. When Kioshi lowered the bottle he sighed.
It was the right amount of quite now; his mind had ceased it’s rioting and was now calm but without his thoughts prompting emotions, Kioshi didn’t feel anything in his mind but his body felt numb. He looked at his free hand and clenched it. It didn’t feel real to him – he didn’t feel real. The bottle in his hand didn’t feel like it was there either and the feeling of not feeling was on his mind when he replaced the bottle back into the fridge and then tentatively wiped milk from his face.
Keys turned in the front door and then it opened, accompanied by intense rustling from a bundle of plastic bags. ‘Father?’ Kioshi walked out into the corridor.
‘Give me hand will you?’ His father handed Kioshi a set of bags.
Kioshi returned to the kitchen. Behind him his father lowered his own bags and Kioshi picked up the clanging of tins and glass bottles.
‘Put the seasonings on the table and put the fish in a bowl then leave it in the sink.’ Kioshi’s father ordered softly.
‘And the vegetables?’
‘Get to work.’
‘Alright...’
Curiously Kioshi rummaged inside a bag, picking out the ingredients that his father had requested but before heading to the counter he discovered a few other items including sweets, chocolate, a book entitled “A Daily Temptation” and some premium beer in luxurious, brown bottles.
Items gathered, Kioshi placed them on the table then withdrew a wooden chopping board from a cupboard under him, next moving over to the sink to wash dirt from carrots.
Just as he had placed the washed vegetable down on the chopping board, Kioshi heard footsteps as his father re-entered the kitchen. ‘Did you wash your hands?’ He asked.
‘I was just about to...’
‘Kioshi...’
Kioshi returned to the sink to wash his hands while his father went about his own duties. Though his father was in the kitchen with him, Kioshi couldn’t help but feel that silence still had too strong a presence in the room.