"Motherless"

November 12th, 2013

At Shigeyoshi's household - 10:06 PM

The house was quiet, draped in shadows under the soft light of Tokyo's moon. It was one of those rare still nights in the neighborhood. Crickets chirped faintly from the yard. Little Ray Shigeyoshi was curled under his blanket, soft breaths escaping his nose.

He was exhausted as usual- he'd been doing push-ups, running laps around the yard, practicing punches and stretches. His muscles ached, but it was the good kind of ache. The kind that made him feel strong, proud. His dreams were filled with flying fists and powerful leaps, protecting people, being the kind of man who could hold his world together.

Then came the voices.

First, muffled.

Then, louder.

Shouts.

Yelling.

Ray stirred beneath his blanket. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the sounds would fade, but they didn't. They grew louder. Angrier.

He turned in his bed, tugged his pillow over his ears, but it was no use.

His father's voice - Shinjo Shigeyoshi, calm and strict by day, now roaring with fury.

And his mother's - Risa Rourke, always so regal and poised, now breaking apart between words, pleading.

Ray slowly sat up, his chest tight. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and shuffled out of bed, his small feet padding silently across the wooden floor.

When he opened his door, he froze.

There, at the end of the hallway, by the entrance, stood his mother - dressed in an elegant coat, a large suitcase beside her.

"You think I wouldn't find out?!" Shinjo's voice thundered. He stood tall, his face twisted in rage, his hands balled into fists.

Risa stood her ground, but her voice cracked as she responded, "It wasn't what you think! You don't understand, Shinjo!"

"You were with another man! I saw you! I saw you!" Shinjo shouted. He raised his hand and pointed at her face. "You betrayed us. You betrayed your son."

"You fucking betrayed us, Risa!" Shinjo repeated, his voice mix of pain and anger.

Ray blinked. He didn't understand what they were talking about. His eyes flicked from his father to his mother, confused, scared.

"Mom?" he called, barely a whisper.

Risa's head snapped toward him. Her eyes widened, then softened. "Ray..."

Ray took a small step forward. "Where are you going?"

Risa stepped forward, her silver eyes wet. "Baby, I—"

But Shinjo blocked her path.

"You don't get to talk to him! You don't deserve to talk to him!" he barked.

"He's my son too!" Risa screamed back.

"Then you should have thought of that before spreading your legs!" Shinjo roared.

Risa flinched.

Ray gasped. He'd never seen them like this. Never.

"If you don't leave right now," Shinjo growled, stepping toward her, "something bad is going to happen. To you. And to him."

The threat wasn't empty. Risa knew Shinjo's past - the people he once dealt with, the way he used to fight before he became a family man. She had seen that darkness. Once, long ago.

She turned toward Ray one last time. Her lips trembled.

"I'll be back, baby," she mouthed silently.

Ray's hands trembled at his sides.

"Mom?"

She picked up her suitcase.

"Mom?!"

The door opened.

The door closed.

Ray ran to the door, banged it with his fists. "MOM!!!"

He opened it, but she was already halfway down the street, her silhouette bathed in the streetlight, shrinking with each second.

"DON'T GO! PLEASE!! MOM!"

She didn't turn back.

His throat burned. Tears flooded his eyes.

He collapsed to his knees at the doorstep, sobbing, fists clenched, broken.

It was hours later when Shinjo found him still there, curled up in front of the door.

The next day, Shinjo sat down with Ray at the kitchen table. His voice was calmer now, but the rage lingered beneath.

He slid a photograph across the table.

"Your mother... she's not coming back."

Ray looked at the photograph. Risa, in another city, standing with a tall man. They were laughing. The man had his arm around her waist. Her head rested gently on his shoulder.

"She chose him over us," Shinjo said flatly.

Ray stared at the photo. The warmth of the previous day, of his mother's gentle hands and sweet smile, was suddenly foreign. Replaced by an icy bitterness.

"She doesn't love us anymore."

He didn't cry that day.

He didn't cry the next day either.

Days turned into weeks. Then months. Then years.

The room she once occupied remained locked.

The dresses she once wore hung still and untouched in the closet.

The house grew quiet again, but not in the comforting way it once was. It became a tomb of what used to be.

Ray changed.

He grew up distant, cold. He still did his exercises in the yard, still trained harder than any boy his age. But the spark in his eyes was different now. It wasn't for a dream anymore. It was survival. A wall. A cage around his heart.

And the image of his mother's face - soaked in tears, mouthing "I'll be back" as she disappeared into the night - festered like a wound.

She never came back.

She was dead to him now.