RYOKO AND AKAGE
A young woman stared at the hospital with displeasure. She had blonde hair and wore thick black glasses, dressed in a blue and white gown with white flat shoes.
She stood at the front desk, and a nurse approached her.
“Can I help you with anything, Miss?”
“I’m here to see a patient. Ryoko Valentine.”
The nurse went through the list and faced her with a smile.
“Name and relationship with the patient?”
“Chika Valentine; relationship,” She smirked and replied politely. “Half-sister.”
They exchanged ID and she headed off to see Ryoko, scheduled in a few hours for surgery.
Chika opened the door of Ryoko's room and locked the door behind her so she could have more privacy with her.
Ryoko was on the bed, bandages covered her face and arms–she looked pitiful.
When she heard the door close, she thought it was her nurse, but she knew the fresh voice too well.
“Good day Miss Val, I heard that you’re getting surgery, and you paid in full in such a short time.”
Chika took off her glasses and her red eyes focused on Miss Ryoko’s terrified eyes. She needed to alert the nurses of her panic, but she feared Akage more than death.
Akage took a seat beside Miss Ryoko and relaxed.
“With the medical expense, I know you and the school can’t afford everything, but somehow you were able to raise the money in such a short time while being hospitalised, even though I was going to pay the bills. I did my research, but I’d like to know how you raised over ten million yen in a week?” Akage questioned with a relaxed smile.
Miss Ryoko could hear her heart spiking, but the heart monitor didn’t do justice to the pace she could hear her heartbeat. The beads of sweat touching her cuts hurt even though she knew the painkillers were in her system.
She trembled, eyes clouded with tears and Akage’s smile burning again in her memory.
Chihiro and Kioko Akazawa birthed a monster – Akage Akazawa.
“Should I tell you how you made the money?”
Miss Ryoko shook her head.
“You sold your son Shinta to an auction house that deals with humans three days ago. He isn’t your son since you sold him. Talk about family love.”
“I just wanted to be beautiful again! I had no choice because my face was everything to me until you ruined my life! Shinta understands because a child should make their parents happy.” She confessed, tears escaping her eyes.
Akage scowled. “All I need from you is the location of the auction house; he is the illegitimate of a fierce rival company of the Akazawa family.”
“I don’t know where the auction holds, but I took him to a place called Dragon Fortune on the west side of the city that is owned by his father.” Miss Ryoko replied.
“Thank you for your cooperation. I can’t believe you would sell your fourteen years old son in his third year of middle school; you disgust me.” Akage deadpanned. “I’m glad my father married my mother; I’d kill you if you were my mother.”
Akage face contorted in disgust, voice full of hatred. She placed a document in front of Miss Ryoko.
Miss Ryoko saw the header and stared at Akage playing with the wig.
“What is this?” Miss Ryoko asked as her trembling hands held the papers.
“Your confession as my aggressor and resignation. All you have to do is stamp it and I’ll be on my merry way.”
“I can’t! My reputation? My job? I will lose everything, please.”
“You have lost everything. You don’t understand the position you are in, Miss Val.” Akage stood up and sat close to her. Her fingers grazed the bandages, then she pulled out a stamp.
“Even if you resume work, you have nothing to prove your innocence, even Akiyama-san confessed. No one knows the truth except both of us. Well, some of us, but loyalty stands.”
“Sign the papers and leave Japan, so nothing happens during the surgery.” Akage whispered in her ears.
Miss Ryoko took the stamp from Akage’s hand. She placed her family stamp where it was needed and Akage snatched the papers from her hand.
“I’ve wired five million US Dollars into your account. Leave Japan as soon as you can and never come back.” Akage stood up. “If you come back, I’ll make you live an endless nightmare.”
Akage placed the glasses and smiled.
“Get well soon, Onee-sama.”
Akage closed the door behind her. The memories that triggered her actions played so clearly as she strolled the hall.
“I hate Kioko so much. Killing her doesn’t sound so bad and maybe that little girl in 1E that loves her senpai so much even though you find her insignificant. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Miss Ryoko laughed and touched Akage’s cheek.
“The first time I saw you Akage Akazawa, I knew we were connected. We love other people’s misery, we’re sadists who lust for what we desperately want to taint. Hunters of forbidden fruits.”
“C-come close.” Akage gasped with the drugs coursing through her system.
Miss Ryoko came closer and Akage stood, then grabbed the back of her hair, smashing it into the mirror. Miss Ryoko fell and Akage stumbled to her feet.
“We’re nothing alike. You play with smoke and call it fire, but I’m the flames that will purge insolent whores that started this game.” She said and picked up a broken shard.
Akage entered the black car and stared out the window.
“Take me home.”
“Yes, Akazawa-sama.”
It was late, three minutes past seven when Akage stepped into her apartment dressed in her uniform.
“I’m home!” Akage announced as she took off her shoes.
She stepped into the living room. Shiro and Mrs. Sasori sat beside each other, reading one from the mangas stacked on the table.
She tiptoed behind them; her shadow towering over them as she watched with intrigue.
They whipped their head at the shadow and shrieked at Akage, who didn’t flinch.
Mrs. Sasori stood up and bowed. “Welcome home, young master. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you. Let me take your bag into your room.” Mrs. Sasori offered.
Akage dropped the bag in her hand and sat down beside Shiro on the couch, covering his mouth with the manga in his hand. Akage leaned her head against the couch and closed her eyes.
“You’re back early.” Shiro spoke, breaking the silence as he dropped the manga.
“I promised you we’ll go out, didn’t I?” Akage peeled one eye open.
Shiro placed his feet on the couch and timidly shook his head.
Akage stood up, took his hand, and led him to her room. They entered as Mrs. Sasori walked out and Akage closed the door behind them.
She opened her closet and shoved the clothes aside. “The only thing in my closet that can fit you are my clothes from middle school, but…” She pulled out a few. “They’re very feminine.”
“No.” Shiro frowned and folded his arms.
“I know you won’t like it, but just until we get you new clothes.” Akage placed it in his arms. “This once.”
Shiro observed himself. Everything he wore belonged to Akage, from the shirt on his back to the slippers on his feet. It wouldn’t change anything but confuse people.
Though Shiro couldn't believe Akage was small in middle school than Akage conveniently bought it.
“Fine.” Shiro took the clothes and left the room.
Akage changed into a top, trousers, and sneakers. She waited in the living room for Shiro with a glass of juice and he didn’t take long to step out.
“How do I look?” Shiro asked, cheeks flushed and eyes glancing at Akage.
The glass dropped from Akage’s hand, shattering as Akage stared like an idiot.
He was beautiful, standing there in an orange gown with white sleeves, long white sleeves, and a pair of Maryjane shoes.
Akage approached Shiro and cleared her throat with a bright blush.
“You look really pretty.” She complimented awkwardly.
Mrs. Sasori smiled, seeing Shiro. “You look so lovely. If cuteness was a crime, you would have been executed.”
Akage bent a little, closing the distance between their height difference.
“We just have one more thing to fix.” Akage stated.
She peeled the band-aid off his cheek, leaving the band-aid on his forehead. She touched his cheek, satisfied the lotion prevented any scarring on his face.
She took off the green scarf around her neck and wrapped it around his neck. “You should dress warm because you easily catch a cold.”
A memory of a red scarf in the arms of an older woman saying those same words flashed in Shiro’s head, but he couldn’t remember who she was or why she gave him her scarf.
He held the scarf close to his face and smiled. He was certain of one thing from that memory.
Warmth.