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Double doors opened. A young boy hovered at the doorway with his suitcase.

The sunlight pouring in from behind him made his expression unreadable as he scanned the dark but familiar main house of the Subaru Estate. His mouth slowly opening to say.

"I'm. . .home." To no one in particular. Of course, he didn't get an answer. "Of course there wouldn't be…" he also muttered. 

He hauled his luggage in and left it at the side of the hall, before going back out to wheel in the rest of his luggage piled and stepped to his suitcases. He shut the door bedim him once finished and continued down a dimly lit hallway. 

"Where were the lights again?" He felt along the winding hall for a switch, but there were none. Or perhaps he missed it. It didn't matter, he found the windows. He pulled aside the embroidered curtains, marveling at its tapestry instead of the view of the courtyard. There was a door ajar leading into a huge round room, with hydraulic tile floors. 

"Uwa..." As the boy entered the room, he shielded his eyes from the blinding light pouring in from the light above, suddenly he remembered. Throughout the whole house, this was the only room forever bathed in sunlight during this time of day thanks to the glass ceiling.

The walls were mounted with bookshelves and paintings. There was a door that if he remembered correctly lead off to a study room. And then of course the piano. 

A tsunami of nostalgia surged towards him in that moment.

A little boy with a light brown bowl-cut entered the same room, and sat on the steps of the piano's platform.

The pianist in black continued to play Rachmaninoff's Prelude in G Minor, Opus 23 Number 5.

(If you want to play in another tab while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GhBXx-2PadM)

The boy listened for quite some time hugging himself with the same small frown he walked in with.

The words of his classmates from earlier that day haunted him, they were prepping for sports day, but he made a lot of mistakes. The words of his classmates played back over and over in his head.

"You're sooo slow!"

"Hotaka, run faster!"

"Sheesh! You really can't do anything, can you?! Let me do it!"

"Don't pick Hotaka, if he's on our team, we'll lose!"

"Seriously! He's such a wuss!"

His parents started arguing on the way back the second he brought up the school event.

"I have work, I can't take him there tomorrow!"

"Well do you think I have nothing to do either?!"

"Then call and ask Katashi if he can stay the night!"

A voice interrupted the boy's thoughts then, the type of voice raspy from smoking fancy cigars, deep like an italian mafia dressed in a fancy black suit 24/7. Or so he imagined his Grand-Uncle, Katashi, or Grand Kat, as the boy so preferred.

"What's the matter Hotaka?"

The boy flinched and stiffened. 

Katashi shifted in his seat. "You were so quiet I didn't even notice you entering."

A pathetic sound left him. His vision blurring from tears. He didn't dare look up at him. 

"G-grand…*hic* Kat...a-am I…?*sniffs* H-how... *hic* How can I get people to like meee?"

Tears overflowed from Hotaka's eyes, blurring his vision of the piano. He retreated from the room tripping over his own feet, he fell flat on his face out in the hall. Huffing he got up and closed the door.

"This room... is dangerous for me. Sorry, Grand Kat, I don't think I'll be able to dust off our old friend today." He used his suitcase as a crutch to maneuver as he continuously wiped at his eyes. 

The Himura Grand Estate, Hotaka took it in through the windows as he walked down the halls. This was the house both his Grandfather and Granduncle built together, the house's architecture was a special clash between traditional Japan and the Victorian era.

Back then the Himura family fled to Japan during the second world war, where they would remain for the rest of their lives. Katashi and his youngest brother were too young to remember their homeland but they could remember the England they were raised in. As soon as they came of age, the two traveled the world together once the war ended and in the end decided to return to Japan to live out the rest of their lives.

Hotaka's Grandfather died when Hotaka's Mother was still quite young. His mother grew up here and left after graduating from high school. She returned many years later after marrying and having Hotaka. Back then both his parents were ladled with work, and Hotaka became acquainted with his Mother's Father figure and Uncle, Katashi Himura.

There's a saying that Mothers were like gods in the eyes of their child, if that saying was true, then the time Hotaka spent under Katashi's supervision, he converted.

As Hotaka unpacked his things in his room, he wondered if returning was a good idea.

There were so many impactful memories embedded in the walls and paintings to even the furniture, it was like an old battlefield, even after many years had passed, the land mines were active.