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The hand of the clock in the kitchen moved past eleven. It was late, and silence had settled like a blanket over the family home. He believed to be hallucinating when he heard the faint sound coming from the living room, but there it was again, the reverberation of a soft voice, hoarse and unmistakably female.
"When that old bell rings.."
He cursed quietly, squeezing a dish rag between his fingers, and relished in the dripping noise that disrupted the quiet singing in the background.
What a nuisance this child was. How much stubbornness and anger and bold defiance could have settled into something that barely reached his hip was still unclear to him, and he had no interest in debating where exactly it stemmed from. Thinking about it would have resulted in his remembering who had given birth to the tiny girl who now tormented his home, would make him have to properly look at her only to see Shin and Miyokichi's features etched clearly into her face. Those two who were apparently more than willing to haunt him from beyond their graves.
There were days when he cursed Shin. There were days when he cursed Miyokichi. There were days when he cursed them both, wished them to go to hell on a one-way trip with no return, and denied having ever made their acquaintance in his life. And on some days, he cursed himself and his entire existence. Those were bad days.
Where there is darkness, there is light, or so the saying went, but wherever he went, not even a candle flickered long before a cool wind blew it out. It hurt, to get out of bed every single day and make his way to the theater only to have a memento with Shin's picture and the hounding words, „In fond memory of Yuurakutei Sukeroku." greet him once he entered. It was Bon who'd insisted he was remembered by his last name, their proper last name which was entitled to the elder just as much, if not even more, than it was to him. It was Bon who had almost fought with the Association to get the nameplate up front. And they had granted him his wish. There were perks to being the 8th generation's successor after all, even if he had a strong notion that their suspiciously quick relenting also had to do with the fact that they considered him to be in a "fragile state of mind, no wonder considering the recent events."
Before, he would have felt it was a stab at his reputation, but these days, the thought slipped out of his mind as quickly as it had entered, and he soon pushed it aside for more urgent matters.
Such were the shows. The audience which frequented the theater had learned of Sukeroku's death. Bon himself had held a small speech, a theater funeral of sorts, and the audience, many among them who had spent years listening in awe to Sukeroku's stories, had been in tears.
Flowers had been laid out on the stage coins, gifts, there was even a hand-made sewn with his name stitched in tiny characters on the fabric. Bon had taken all of their admiration and had laid it out on Sukeroku's grave.
"You're dead, yet you are still popular with the people, hm?" Bon had mused, sitting down beside his gravestone as he so often did these days, He caressed the granite with his fingers, created an imaginary warmth at his fingertips to replace the cold touch, to pretend it was Shin holding his pinky finger again. "What is your secret? A lousy drunkard all your life, lazy, only getting up when the sun is already high in the sky-" Out of nowhere, a small twig hit him on his shoulder, and he blinked, and glanced around to see that yes, there indeed was a tree nearby, and it was windy, and it was only a realistic coincidence which probably transpired on any other day and had nothing to do with the dead watching over the living -
and yet-
"You're right, look at me running my mouth when I myself haven't given a single performance in days, isn't it so?" he said, loudly, laughing, finding himself quite unable to stop for a solid minute.
"That's why you should be there." he said, when it was over, "You should be there to entertain the people, Shin. You should be here to bring smiles to their faces. It's you they want to see. So why are you not there?" He lowered his head.
"Why aren't you there, Shin?" he whispered, and then, he wept.
No one had stayed. No one had stayed except Matsuda-san, and for his company he was grateful, but there were times when he caught himself wishing that Death's cold clutches had grasped him instead, after all, the man had aged and lived a fulfilled life, unlike Shin and Miyokichi, who had parted before their child could count her age on the fingers of two hands. But those were terrible thoughts which he loathed himself for, even more terrible than the daydreams he had of putting a quick end to his misery with one of the ropes they kept in the shed. He would wait until Konatsu and Matsuda-san were asleep, and then he would go out into the garden, past the bed of snapdragons, the flowers Miyokichi had always loved and he had planted in her memory, he would walk straight up until the plum tree and then wind the rope along one of the thick branches.
A knot made for hunting slings that would serve its purpose perfectly well. He would put the sling around his neck, gently, the way one would handle a baby, and then he would climb up the tree, as though he was a child again, playing with Shin. And then, he would jump.
He had planned it out in such detail that on some days, he wondered whether he should be concerned.
But of course, it was never that easy. He could not leave. Not only because then once and for all he would break the promise of paving a way for rakugo and fighting for its survival that he'd made with Shin so many years ago, but because he'd be breaking another one, the unspoken one of looking after his child. A child he could not even look at because every time he did, Shin's eyes stared back at him. Taunting him.
"Go outside and play. Or anything you want. Leave me alone." is what he'd tell her and bury himself in his own studies, plays he'd repeat, letters that needed answering, he would always find something which was more important than the red-haired girl sulking next to him. It could go two ways. Either she left, which was his favourite option by far. Or she didn't, sticking his tongue out at him and telling him"No" in a voice that was far too young for such bitterness. Or, should have been, if he didn't hear a familiar note in it that was an echo of his past self.
Although not related by blood, she reminded him of himself in so many instances.
They were both orphans. His mother had told him his father had been shot before his birth. And once she passed away, except for the lady looking out for him at the geisha's residence, he knew he had no-one. It quickly turned him bitter, and led to petty thoughts of jealousy at the sight of someone else receiving something they had been denied, in the worst case: something the other person could take for granted. And so, even if it wasn't affection he could give her, he at least made sure that she was tended to in any other respect.
He had a solid lifestyle: generous earnings, plenty of savings and an ample inheritance. Konatsu didn't want anything, but he made sure she had what he at least thought she might like. There was already a collection of items in the household that belonged to her.
A few stuffed animals. A football and a train set because apparently Miyokichi had given birth to a boy without noticing. They barely talked and Konatsu rarely left the house, but on the occasion that she could be convinced to join Matsuda-san on an errand for groceries, they would pass shops with displays of what it was children desired these days. Again, Konatsu never said she wanted anything (except to get on his nerves, apparently, yet another punishment Sukeroku apparently liked to torture him with over his own dead body) but the times where she'd stared at the same thing in weeks, and even, a few tentative times, voiced that she would like to go inside the store (only to stare at the same toy in question yet again, fondling it a few times, before setting it down, with as much care or rather, the lack of it, as Sukeroku had possessed, Bon would know what to buy for her. The new item then mysteriously found itself in Konatsu's room without as much as a note, and Konatsu knew exactly whom it had come from – she might have been young but certainly not stupid. The occasions where it happened, she would rush to Matsuda-san and hug him gratefully. Then, with as much hesitation as it was possible, she'd walk up to Bon, look up at him, perhaps chew her lip, uncertain what to say. Then however, a frown would take a hold of her pretty features, and she quickly looked away, mumbling a "thank you" that sounded more as though it was an insult, and ran away.
"Give it time." Matsuda-san had whispered, one time after it had happened, consolingly patting his back, as though Bon was desperate for some sort of validation from the child. And the fact that Konatsu wasn't happy, what was wrong with it? He knew it was selfish. And yet, Sukeroku was dead. None of them had any reason to be happy in a world where he was long gone.
There were times where he caught himself wishing that Konatsu had never been born. Had she not been, Miyokichi would have not been bound to him in any way, would not have felt as though suicide was her only way out. Even though, yes, it had been an accident in the end, events would have surely transpired differently had she not given birth to that child. Bon knew those thoughts were ridiculous and useless. He knew they were wrong. He knew he had no right to target a child which could do nothing for her parents, for all of their sins, and yet, bearing a grudge seemed like an easy way out. On the days that rakugo did not work, it was the alcohol that did it for him, although he was careful to never drink more than a glass at a time. He'd seen Sukeroku's life fall apart in front of his own eyes several times to the influence of that type of drink to not ever want to repeat his mistakes
The one time he did, however, because it had been a particularly bad day, at least that was the excuse he gave it, he threw up in the bathroom, all over the floor. A wide-eyed Matusda-san rushed to his help, cleaned it up and offered to escort him to his bedroom despite Bon's reassurances he was fine. He lied about probably having eaten something bad at a food stall. He knew Matsuda-san had seen the bottles, but the old man pretended as though he wholeheartedly believed his lie. Bon stumbled to his bed and slept a full twelve hours. When he woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, the sun's rays having long filtered through the blinds, he was struck by how much he resembled Shin without even trying. He threw up once more, in the sink this time, watching in a sick sort of fascination as the remainders of his own slump were washed down the drain. He cleared away all the bottles, grabbed them by their sticky necks and threw them in the trash. He didn't touch another bottle in weeks. There was no need for him to become an even less proper example for a parent than he was already.
A parent. He knew there were people who prayed for a child, and who rejoiced as though it was the luckiest day of their lives the day they finally held it in their arms. And even those who couldn't conceive, there was still the possibility of adopting a child. As though anyone would voluntarily let another person, most importantly, a smaller person, which seemed to be able to do nothing but sulk and whine, into their homes. For what? He felt as though he was lying whenever he told himself that Sukeroku had been a great father, but that, in a way, of course he had. No, he hadn't been reliable, and yes, he had been lazy, and downright irresponsible when he'd let his young child work to feed them both while he lay there in an alcohol-induced stupor of his own misery, but Bon knew that he'd never hurt her and that he'd loved her more than his own life and would have protected her at the cost of it. Miyokichi had laughed into his face that she never had been able to love her, and yet, he knew that somewhere deep down, she had probably still felt some fondness for her daughter. He had this much faith in her that he believed she must have.
And him? What about him? Konatsu was as young as a fledgling, and still needed affection. Matsuda-san cared for her as though she was his own grand-daughter, just as he had cared for him and Sukeroku back then, but he wasn't her guardian. It was him, Bon, who was supposed to look after her. And he did, in a way. He made sure she ate, and was dressed properly, and didn't talk back too much, he never raised his hand against her, rarely his voice. That much said, he wasn't doing terribly. But no matter what he told himself, and told himself anew, and no matter what the legal papers spelled out, he simply couldn't bring himself to treat her like she was his own daughter. Because she wasn't. And she would never, could never, be. He had loved Sukeroku. That much he knew. He had loved him, with all of his heart, and that was where his feelings overrode reason which had been his guide for as long as he could remember, he still loved him.
And had loved and loved Miyokichi, although what he felt for her had never been a match for the turmoil of feelings that his companion's, his brother's – it had sounded so wrong, the precise reason why he'd vehemently refused to call Shin his nii-san for years-, his partner's mere name stirred within him. There were times when he caught Konatsu reciting some rakugo that he'd heard him do, but paired with the quiet, resigned attitude she kept up in the house, it reminded him of his childhood self so much that he was presented with, as much as it might have been biologically impossible and a taboo , the ironic picture of what it would have been like if him and Sukeroku were to have had a child. It hadn't hurt as much back when he'd first seen her. If anything, those weeks, fooling around, as he called it when looking back, living with both Shin and Konatsu and helping him rebuild his existence, it had almost felt like a ludicrous dream: Both of them, living together with a child, a child that had slowly grown to like him (even though that like had dissipated as quickly as it had come, he couldn't blame her for that ), in a little house in the country-side, doing rakugo.
But now, with Shin gone, the merry little dream had become a nightmare that he could not escape. What point was there raising a child with Shin if Shin was not even there anymore?
"The crow pops out and la dee da..."
He sighed, massaging his forehead as he felt another headache slowly but surely coming on. Could that silly girl not be quiet for a second? It was more likely she'd simply lost track of time, or couldn't sleep, yet still the thought she was only doing it to spite him shot through his head. He grimaced, and then dropped the rag, which fell into the sink with a satisfying little splat, before heading down the corridor to the living room. The bane of his existence would let him sleep, one way or another. If Sukeroku's spirit was watching him, as Bon, pathetic as it was, hoped he did, then he had had enough entertainment for the night. Bon paused in front of the shoji door, hoping that his approaching footsteps might have given her enough warning for her to quieten down, but if anything, her voice grew in volume. He could hear Sukeroku snickering in the back of his head. "Silence, you." he muttered, before gripping the wood and sliding the door open. Konatsu was still laying on the floor, bare-footed and facing away from him, in the same position that she'd been hours ago, upon which he debated whether she had moved at all. In the end, it was completely irrelevant either way. "Do you know how late it is?" he asked coolly.
There was no response, but the singing seized. He thanked the gods, not certain if he could have actually born hearing that song once over again. His heart ached as it was.
"I asked you a question." She flinched, and he almost did too, at how strict he sounded. It wasn't necessary, and yet, it gave him a momentary distraction. See if she had the answers for a turn.
"I don't know how to read the clock. You never taught me." she whispered, fiercely, and he scoffed at the blatant accusation that bled through the words.
"Impudent child." Bon said without as much as a thought, his automatic response to any of her smart comments, she'd heard it so many times by now, it might have been the nickname he'd given her. No response came, so Bon let out a sigh that contained all the frustration at the trouble she was causing him and knelt down in front of her. "I'll teach you something new today, then." he said, "Look outside."
She didn't react for several moments, finally lifting her head, although it was barely noticeable. They both stared out into the darkness.
"Is the sun down?" Bon asked. It was an obvious question, but then what he was attempting to teach her was just as obvious.
Konatsu nodded, mutely, apparently not deeming him worthy of a response.
"When it is, and when it becomes dark like this, little girls should be in bed. That's how you'll know without even having to read the clock." he stated, stressing the word he knew would aggravate her, out of his own immature sense of spite. In a way, he was no better than her.
The response was immediate, and delightfully expectable.
"I'm not little, you blockhead!" she snapped, all of a sudden acutely aware of his presence, whipping her head around and glaring at him – Shin's eyes glaring at him- with as much loathing as though he'd murdered her family.
Bon remembered in time that she indeed believed he had.
"Sssh." he hissed, gesturing with a single wave of his hand for her to quieten down, "Matsuda-san is asleep, you silly girl."
Konatsu's eyes widened, and she pressed a hand over her mouth. "Sorry." he heard a faint whisper, accompanied by a slight tremble of her minute frame. Bon didn't speak, eying the tatami mat instead of her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn her head back to resume what he presumed was her own way of mourning. As long it was a soundless mourning that didn't contain a syllable of rakugo, she was free to do it as long as she wished to. He even considered letting her be and return to his bed, but his sense of responsibility interfered, reminding him of why exactly she was in his house again. He sighed, and then spoke up, taking on an indulgent tone for which he blamed his own tiredness.
"Come on now, time for bed."
She didn't respond, but drew her legs closer to her body, curling in on herself. Then made a little hiccupping noise at the back of her throat. He chose to ignore that for the moment, relishing in his talent of not managing to seem completely unaware of uncomfortable happenings unless it was absolutely necessary he took notice of them.
"Don't want to, hm." he stated quietly, reaching out before he thought better of it, and let his fingers skim through her hair in a gesture he deemed soothing. It was a sign of how fatigued she apparently was, despite her refusal to sleep, when she didn't swat his hand away.
"No." she whispered instead, a single syllable that was strained with anguish.
"I see." Bon sighed. Her stubbornness still seemed to hold priority over any basic needs, or at least, that's how he explained it to himself.
Keeping his hand entangled in the ginger strands, he continued speaking.
"Look, if you don't feel like sleeping, you don't have to, but keep lying on the floor until the morning, and you'll have backache. Not to mention the cold you might catch. Come on, be sensible and go to your bedroom. You can lie awake all night for all I care."
It was another classic of his, saying that it didn't matter to him at all what she did. But it worked wonders with her, so why should he not use it to his advantage?
But Konatsu didn't stand up, and snapped "fine" at him, she didn't make the slightest gesture of having heard at all. Instead, she curled in further and he heard the hiccups again, the soft, shaky breaths, indicating a happenstance that he'd love to ignore.
Shin-san, why aren't you here? What makes you think it was alright to leave me with her like this?
Shin-san, I...I can't do this.
Shin, please come back.
"Konatsu." Bon sighed, sliding forward on his knees, debating how to proceed with the situation as it was. He couldn't leave her like this. On the other hand, forcefully dragging her out was something he'd never favoured and would rather avoid. But if she wouldn't give him a choice, what was he to do?
"Konatsu." he repeated, patiently, placing a hand on her shoulder and waiting for her to shake it off, but she didn't.
The girl turned her head, brown eyes that were wet with tears briefly meeting his own. She looked down, as though she was afraid of him. The gesture alone hurt more than Bon would have ever believed it could.
He resumed stroking her hair, as gently as he could, until he saw her posture relax a little.
Then, he thought it might be time to start a second attempt.
"Come on now." , he said, "Or what would you like me to do, carry you?"
It had been a suggestion without too much thought behind it. It probably had to have been ages since someone had last carried her. Matsuda-san was an old man already whose back caused him enough pain on its own without the additional weight of a little girl on his shoulders, and Bon- Bon didn't , out of his reasons.
But to his bewilderment, her head immediately shot up, eyes fixing him and not breaking contact yet.
"Would you?" she asked in a small voice.
Bon sighed again, and then he nodded, willing to go along with it as long as it kept her from crying and happy. She bit her lip, then reached out her arms- tiny arms, far too tiny – for him and he wrapped his own around her frame. Holding her waist with one arm, the other supporting her legs, he pressed her warm body close to his chest and slowly lifted her up. He almost recoiled when he realized just how light she was. How small. How fragile.
What a lot of responsibility he had suddenly taken on.
He felt the beating of her heart against his chest as it thudded, rapidly and tirelessly, in its confines. And realized that he held onto the last living remainder that Sukeroku had ever existed, his legacy, a piece of him that he had gotten to keep.
"There we are now. It's alright." he mumbled, without knowing if he was comforting her, himself or perhaps both of them, as he slowly rocked her back and forth.
Konatsu wouldn't have been Konatsu though if she hadn't felt the need to give a reply.
"Nothing's alright. Daddy's dead. Mom's dead, too." she whispered angrily, but let her head fall against his chest. The you blockhead was verbally absent, but the inclination was given.
He shushed her, not quite knowing what to reply except a confirmation of her statement, and he thought that the words must have been circling her head enough times since the day everything had turned into a disaster, that she needn't hear him speak them out on top.
"Are you hungry?" he asked instead, resting his chin on top of her ginger hair.
Konatsu turned her face away and now completely hid it in his clothing. "No." came the muffled response.
"Are you sure?" Bon repeated, aware that he was insisting, but he knew that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and that had been almost ten hours ago.
"Yes."
Getting her to eat was an ordeal of its own these days. She was nothing alike the rambunctious kid with the insatiable appetite he had met upon their first encounter. On a good day, she might finish half of the soup that Matsuda-san made for her. On a bad day, she barely even touched her food.
It was "temporary, natural after experiencing such a huge loss at such a young age." the doctor Bon had eventually consulted had told him, and recommended he started by feeding her simple dishes such as rice and soup and her favourite foods for now. It barely worked, but it was a start. She clearly ate more when it was Matsuda-san sitting with her, Bon knew that, and although it seemed obvious, he couldn't help but feel a bit dissatisfied.
"One by one." he said, resuming the rocking as she wasn't protesting, from which he concluded that she wasn't about to jump down his throat, "You'll have to start living for yourself, you know? "
He heard her breathe in sharply, having realized where this was going, but she wasn't yelling at him, yet. He decided to test the waters, having never been so upfront about the situation. But then, he could only pretend nothing was wrong for so long until it would affect her, too.
"You're a smart girl, Konatsu." he said, making an effort to sound appreciative, "I'm sure you understand the human body needs certain things so it can keep on living. And that means you'll have to start eating again, and sleeping, and going outside, even if it is hard. Yes, your dad is..." he broke off for a second, but forced himself to continue: "not with us anymore" - he couldn't say dead, he couldn't, not Shin - "and neither is your...mum." There, he had avoided the dreaded word again. He felt sick. "But I know they're watching over you right now, and they'd be very, very proud if they saw you living on." he finished at last.
"How can they watch over me when they're rotting dead in the earth, being eaten by worms and maggots?" Konatsu said, eyes turned up accusingly at him.
Bon halted his rocking and stared back. He couldn't help it, needing a moment to realize what exactly she had said.
"Who...said something like that?" he asked, but then it dawned on him whom exactly she might had learned these words from. "Your mummy said that's what happens when people die, didn't she?" he asked, suppressing a sigh.
Konatsu nodded, but was still looking at him, seeming torn between the pessimistic and terribly age inappropriate view that Miyokichi had left her with and what Bon had told her seconds ago and which she seemed to derive some sort of hope from.
"She" Bon said slowly, knowing that a lot of how well she would cope might depend on his answer, "didn't know everything, either."
An odd sense of relief overtook him when she mumbled: "Hm.", seeming ready to temporarily accept his answer, and leaned back against him.
"Also, I don't know if your dad told you, but-" Bon continued, making use the of the opportunity of her actually listening, "my own parents passed away when I was young. I know how you feel."
"You don't." she muttered. Of course she did.
"Things get better over time." he spoke as though he hadn't heard her, adjusting her more comfortably and fondly taking in the stack of rakugo books on the table, "Even when you think they never will. When the master adopted me, I had no idea of rakugo and the like, and I never thought I would be able to find a family again. But then, everything changed." Bon's lip unintentionally curled into a smile. "The master and the mistress became like a father and mother to me."
He heard Konatsu scoff.
"What is it now?" he grumbled. Who would have known children would be this exhausting? By now, he pitied the master and mistress for having to take in the two of them when they had been just as young and surely just as troublesome.
"You will never be like a father to me." she declared, shaking her head vehemently, glaring at him.
Bon laughed. It happened unintentionally, and he wasn't certain what exactly he found so amusing about the situation, and yet couldn't keep it in. Konatsu's eyes narrowed, and she watched him like a disdainful cat.
Oh, he wouldn't let that sit on him.
"You know, that would have almost hurt." he said meaningfully, once he'd calmed down, "If not for the fact that, coincidentally, the last thing I wanted was having to call you my daughter." He smirked at her, hoping to project as much of the smug superiority that he had mastered excellently and he was aware, she loathed. That might lure her undefeated, strong personality out.
She stared at him, and Bon fought hard to keep his uneasiness from showing, and wondered if he'd gone too far, if he would make her cry, and what he would do then.
"You blockhead." she spat, slapping his shoulder, and he caught her wrist, clicking his tongue, had to fight hard against the smile that threatened to break out.
She was going to be alright, after all.
"We don't hit each other, you disagreeable child." he felt the need to chide, nonetheless.
"Yes? So what about this I can't guarantee for what happens if you keep talking like that?" she mumbled.
Bon let go of her wrist, feeling like he'd been stabbed. If his childhood self could see him now, he'd tell the boy to get over it and start practicing already, that rakugo was not that one thing he would end up being terrible at. Instead, he would end up a horrible excuse for a guardian. No matter how much Konatsu riled him up, or how difficult she was, he knew it was no excuse to threaten her, as subtle as it was, with any form of violence. Especially after her parents had just died. He would have to be the adult in this case. And yet, he seemed to forget this ever so often.
"That was, well." he hesitated and cleared his throat, uncertain how to go on about this, but perhaps if he directly spoke his mind, she would at least believe he was sincere this way, "A wrong thing to say. I'm sorry." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her perk up at that. It was a rare opportunity. He himself couldn't remember having apologized to her before, but it needed to be done and he wanted to set a good example after all, didn't he? "No matter what you do, I would never...will never do that. I'm an angry old man, but I mean you no harm. Please." - he sighed again, "Please accept my apology."
"Alright."
"Alright?" he repeated, bewildered. He would expected her to put up much more of a fight, even going as far as telling him she would never accept it, but Konatsu merely nodded, seeming to properly look him in the eye for the first time.
"I accept it." she said, with as much seriousness as she could muster. For a second of weakness, he almost found it adorable.
"Alright." he said, patting her head. She pulled a face, but didn't complain.
Another glance at the clock told him he really ought to get her to bed already.
"So- how about you brush your teeth and change into your nightshirt?" Bon suggested, glancing at Konatsu, "Who knows, if you carry it all out, I might even do some rakugo for you as a bedtime story."
Her face lit up with excitement for a moment, but she caught herself and quickly turned away. "Like I'd want to hear any of your stories." she mumbled.
"Suit yourself." Bon replied, having long seen through her, and making his way to the bathroom, Konatsu still in his arms.
Despite her insistence that she was not interested in a rakugo story, she miraculously did brush her teeth thoroughly and changed into her nightshirt more quickly than on most days, even making an effort to fold her clothes neatly. Bon knew better than to point this out to her, though.
Once she was comfortably settled in her futon and looking at him rather expectantly, he knelt down before her, adapting the relaxed, but attentive posture he used for all his performances.
"I'm going to do a very special story for you." he began. He'd decided on it on a whim, in an attempt to present her with any sort of memento for tonight where her grief had been excessively painful. "Your father did it for me." He smiled, sadly and Konatsu swallowed.
"The night before he left. Our master took him to Manchuria during the war, to perform and provide some sort of entertainment for the brave men who fought for us. I was to leave for the country-side with the mistress. As you might imagine, I was very upset to be separated from him."
As melancholy and the bitter pang of reality reminding him that by now, he was separated forever from Sukeroku hit him, Bon struggled to regain his composure. He barely managed, and he didn't fool himself into believing Konatsu didn't notice the audible crack in his voice when he continued speaking. "I did try to convince the master to let me come with them, but he wouldn't budge, because of my injured leg and because someone would need to look after his wife, I imagine. It didn't change the fact it made me very angry. I did almost...hate him there. " His smile turned bitter for a second. "I didn't want to leave your dad. Not for anything in the world. I didn't know if I would ever..." This hadn't been the plan. He'd wanted to tell her a story, but all of a sudden he found himself on a different route he had never wanted to take.
Bon stopped, breathing in deeply, blinked several times and tried his best to direct his mind's focus elsewhere so he wouldn't give in to the urge that was threatening to overwhelm him. It was at that moment he realized that he'd always pushed away, never talked to anyone about and most likely never properly came to terms with the event.
All of a sudden, he felt something warm press against his own hand.
It jerked him out of his rigour. He noticed Konatsu had wrapped her hand around his fingers, and wearing an expression of sincerity that aged her by several years.
"You can cry it out, if you want. Matsuda-san said I should and that it helps." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I promise I won't tell."
Bon couldn't help but feeling oddly touched. But she had enough problems to face on her own without adding his to them.
"I appreciate it." he told her, "But there's nothing for you to worry about. " He cleared his throat. "Let's get to the story finally, shall we?"he said, with a smile that was not all that convincing.
It was clear she wasn't entirely content with this answer, but let it go. Bon swiped over his eyes with the back of his hand, quickly, and sat up a little straighter.
"It's called...The Yawning Coach. Give me your pinky finger, like this-" - he carefully lifted her hand, interlocking their fingers - "and hold on loosely."
"Why?" Konatsu asked, curiously.
"Because that's how it's told." Bon replied. Explaining it further would lead to him having to elaborate on what promise it was that Shin-san and him had made on that night, years ago.
"But you needn't do it, if you wish." he added, a little haughtily.
Konatsu frowned, but held on. "Fine."
Bon closed his eyes for a moment, and then began.
"Hey, come here a moment."
"What is it?"
"It's practice."
"Give me a break, that's not the face of a man who wants to practice."
Konatsu was still awake, even once he'd finished.
He voiced that thought aloud, and was immediately met with a wave of protest.
"How could anyone fall asleep during a story? Especially one of daddy's stories?"
"Because it's...soothing?" Bon suggested, doing his best not to look caught.
. Konatsu huffed and pulled away from him burying herself under her covers. There went his attempt at bonding with her.
"I'd always listen until the end" he heard her mumble, "No matter how tired I was. That's all I have left of him, after all." Her voice ended in an odd choke.
"And here I thought this was going to make you fall asleep." Bon sighed, lifting her blanket only to come face to face with a girl that was quietly crying.
He didn't think much about what he was going to do, but reacted on instinct and slowly began wiping her tears away with his thumb.
Konatsu's eyes widened.
"It's going to be okay." he shushed her, "I'm here, Matsuda-san's here, no one's ever leaving you again."
He waited patiently by her sides, until her tears eventually dried and she drowsily closed her eyes. Then, he tucked the blanket around here so she was warm and comfortable, and stroked through her hair before getting up, and turning off the light.
"Good night, Konatsu-chan." he said finally, "Try and get some sleep. If there is anything, I'll be next door."
She didn't reply this time,and he wasn't expecting her to. Bon knew there were things that would need time. A lot of time. He could wait. He had waited for so long for Sukeroku to come back, and to find him again. He could do the same for his daughter.
He was nearly out of the doorway, when a voice halted him there.
"Good night, old man." he heard Konatsu say quietly.
Old man, huh? He felt a surge of relief pass through him.
Perhaps, Shin-san, I'm not doing nearly as badly as I could.