AIR: Hopeful Eyes - Prologue

[luna_no_koibito]

Title: AIR: Hopeful Eyes.
Tagline: Because like air we are there, you just can't see us ...

Chapters: PROLOGUE / 33
Author: luna_no_koibito
Dedicated to: My beloved sister neechanwrites .

Muse: The amazing writer of "A Dirty Carnival" minka_g .
Genre: Action, romance, human drama, introspection.
Warnings: Cursing
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: None for this chapter
Bands: Girugamesh, 12012, MUCC, Buck-Tick, SiD, Alice Nine., ScReW, D'espairsRay, Nightmare, Lynch.
Disclaimer: The story is mine, for me to share. The bands are not … like they would care.
Comment: This fiction will have a prequel called AIR: Hopeful Eyes, and a sequel called AIR: Vengeful Eyes, thus some things will be dealt in depth, in other occasions. But feel free to ask, there might be something that I might simply not have written clearly, in case there were some misunderstandings.

Summary: Something such as the perfect world, does not exist. Earth will never live in peace, because for it be so, war must exist. Just as countless bad things will continue happening, in order for us to appreciate the few good ones, or unfairness will continue to reign undisputed, in order for us to be willing to fight for righteousness. It is just in the natural balance of things, yet as humans we believe in change, we believe in an eventual final victory of the good over the bad; ideally, as humans we have learned to always hope for the best. In doing so, we should be inspired to actually make the change, and not simply sit, and watch. That being said, the reality of things, is that the majority of us will still find it easier to merely accept whatever injustice or harm, and merely run with the flow, but there do exist, even if only a few, some us, who have decided to make the change, and run their own flow...

AIR.

A/N: The parts of speech written in Blue, are sentences replied by those using sign language, I will of course be indicating, which person is “signing”.

---### Main ###---

Prologue


Sunday, 10th Heisei year (1998), April 12. Tokyo.

So much.

So incredibly freaking much, for being like everybody else. For being allowed to feel that gratifying awareness of belonging, to rejoice in the ever so preached, and supposedly granted equality, and to bask without a worry, in that relieving recognition that the word loneliness was in fact, in no way related to oneself; being like everyone else, merely that had been all he had ever wanted. “Reaching for the stars”, “being the brightest crayon in the box”, and other things of such nature, weren't things that Satoshi had ever aspired to. Why in the world would he be trying to “think outside the box”, when all his life he had never even been inside it?

And now, as he stood immobile, as his usual, studying himself in the spotless mirror belonging to the dresser inside the four walls of his unnecessarily grand bedroom, he wished he could simply do just that; be normal. He wished he could tell his father to fuck himself, like he usually did, and use whatever minutes he had left, before the arrival of his housekeeper, to change into the regular self he had worked so extremely hard to build, and in doing so, getting on the man's nerves even further. However, as it so often happen to be in life, it was never simple matter of just himself, or his old man, and no matter how hard he would always fight against conformity, unavoidably ending into trouble, there were times, such as in this very moment, where keeping a promise made with his beloved mother, could make the presence of certain people, or the completion of certain tasks, less of a bother; yet, he couldn't help but despise with every single cell in his being, this particular reflection of himself.

The reflection of an impeccably educated looking lad. White completely buttoned up shirt, black slacks, burgundy tie … all things he fervently despised, but among all, the one thing that was driving him off the wall, was his hair. It was black, so fucking black, but then again; not really. It was black at the moment, as a result of the colored hair-spray he had finished applying some hours ago. All in order to momentarily cover what his father had mercilessly described as “an obvious, and ulterior step into his useless life as a hoodlum”; apparently, that was what the color pink, and red meant. Not that he ever cared about what the man said, because if he had he wouldn't have “become a delinquent” when he had first bleached his hair blond a year ago, or “engaged in acts of pointless, and nonsensical rebellion” six months later when he had dyed it green.

He truly didn't give a fuck. It didn't matter how badly his father had set his mind to believe that he was this good for nothing sixteen year old, who spent most of his time running around with gangs, in the sole purpose of making his life miserable. It didn't matter that he was actually quite the bright teenager, who happened to be way above the average when regarding brain aptitude. He always understood everything that was thought in class without any effort, for he was the type of person that didn't need to try, and in order to keep himself below that average, that he did; never tried.

None of all that really mattered, because the truth was, that he had never asked to be born as the only son of this man, who found his only joy in life in proudly parading himself as the notorious parliamentarian that he was, and whose only goal in life was to reach the final peak of becoming the oh so honorable secretary of state. And the fact that somewhere along the way, in order to achieve such goal, he'd had to get married, and at least had to have one child, or that the only times this man seemed to be happy with his family, was when in front of a camera, or that the last words that his mother had heard from him, through a phone, before she died as a terminal patient of breast cancer were “I couldn't get out of this meeting, I hope you'll understand”, all such thing and more, were all just minor unavoidable requirements to this man; “all for the good of” … what was it this year? ...“A drug free Japan”?

Thus, he had decided not to consider it his own fault if the media would always feel pressed with wanting to know “What trouble did Sakurai Satoshi supposedly cause this time”, not like it was going to incise particularly in his future, for his father would have paid whomever police officer to turn his misdemeanor slate sparkling clean again, and again. He didn't feel in any way shamed, the days when he'd be comfortably seated in his usual chair in the office of the headmaster of his notoriously expensive single-gender high school, Danshi no Bitoku (男子の美徳) High School, listening to that man in his perfectly rehearsed performance of his usual monologue, which always began with “What am I to do with you Sakurai-kun? ...” and typically ended with “ … yet you have such a good role-model in your father”.

-Satoshi-kun? ...- suddenly called the gentle voice of their housekeeper Ms. Reisen, to which he merely hummed in reply, keeping his stance in front of the mirror -... Sakurai-sensei is waiting for you - politely informed Ms. Reisen, followed by another effortless hum released by the temporary brunette.

… How long? …

Ten minutes? … thirty minutes? … all his life?

How long had he truly been staring at his very own reflection, spotting, judging, incessantly modifying, himself, but truthfully all he ever really did when in front of that mirror, was talking to himself. He would analyze himself desperately in search of the answer to that one particular question, to which nobody yet had been able to ever give him an answer; … Why me?

Abandoning the mocking image of himself, he grabbed his coordinated black suit jacket from the edge of his bed, and throwing it over his shoulder, he directed himself towards the exit of his room. As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted be the familiar image of a politely bowing Ms. Reisen, whom while rising to a straight posture, took a few seconds to study him

-I wish you a pleasant day Satoshi-kun ...- she then kindly declared, with her customary fond smile, from which simple gesture, Satoshi was always able to receive an indescribable amount of warmth, and so much affection that would always positively affect the mask of apathy he always liked to were on his young features, making him perform, even if for a mere second, a sincerely grateful grin; she after all, was the closest thing he had to a mother.

-... Too late for that I am afraid - replied Satoshi with an exasperated sigh, diving both his hands in the pockets of his slacks, and ungracefully walking towards the staircase

-I find it hard to believe it so, given that your day hasn't started yet - quickly replied the middle-aged woman, in a reassuring louder tone from her previous stance, looking down at the teenager, who had stopped in his descent to turn an look up toward her

-... and doesn't that make it so very sad? - rhetorically observed the brunette, in a mild cynical tone accompanied by a feign smile, soon after which, he resumed his descent, not really capable of bearing the gentle pity that had suddenly took hold of the housekeeper's eyes, and which his mother was also so accustomed to display when regarding his father, as well as so much love, devotion, … hope. Hope that maybe one day, her husband might finally see what he actually had in front of himself, instead of always trying to restlessly reach for those skies.

Once on the ground floor, he purposely took his time while walking towards the main door, and stopping just before opening said door, he placed his hand on the handle, which he didn't push down, but simply held, as he quickly turned his head to the right, positioning his apathetic gaze on their majestic family portrait, particularly fixing his stare on his mother part of the picture

-Ittekimasu kaa-chan...- he then whispered, after which he walked out the door, and down a couple of white marble stairs to reach a black Lexus parked in the middle of their circularly large driveway.

Nonchalantly dropping himself on the far end respect to his father, in the back seat of the expensive ride, he harshly banged the door closed, which generated a rather loud bang that would have shook anybody, but not Sakurai Atsushi, who seemed to be completely unfazed to the presence of his son. Heedlessly slouching on the black leather seat, he quickly reached for his tie loosing it quite some, because air always seemed to go missing whenever around his father, reason why he didn't believe him to be “human”, which was probably the “real reason” for his mother's death; humans needed air to live, didn't they? … so … where did that put him?

-We can leave ...- solemnly announced Atsushi, momentarily looking up from his newspaper, to regard the driver, who nodded, and started the engine, and departed followed by another black Lexus containing some of the bodyguards -... How about wearing that jacket?- absently pointed out Atsushi, in his habitual dejected tone, replacing his gaze on the morning paper

-... Good morning to you as well ... Sakurai-sensei - cynically replied the younger brunette, as he placed his elbow on the side of the car, abandoning his crestfallen gaze staring at random points out of the window, ignoring the order to wear said garment, making his father merely slightly shift in the chair, in what he regarded as an attempt to contained irritation

-Today, it would be in your best interest not to act like your nonsensical usual self ...- calmly breathed out the elder brunette, shaking his newspaper, and slowly turning page -... it would be really embarrassing to lose in the judgmental comparison with a four year old, don't you think?- he absently observed, receiving nothing but silence by the brunette, who merely shrugged -... of course ...- drily whispered the adult in response to the ignoring gesture -... I am not going to be bailing you out forever Satoshi - sternly affirmed the parliamentarian, receiving a diverted smirk by the teenager, who still kept his gaze outside the window

-... I had never asked you to … Sakurai-sensei - promptly replied Satoshi, slightly shifting in his seat in visible annoyance

-We have arrived Sakurai-sensei ...- announced the driver, as the car suddenly stopped in the middle of the street, as one of the bodyguards sitting in the front seat, got out joining the once from the other convoy to keep the already flashing press away

-and it is dad ...- corrected Atsushi, just before opening the door, and coming out politely smiling, and nodding at the cameras and microphones of the press, as he stood unmoving waiting for Satoshi to some out; a family walked in together.

-yes … father ...- replied the younger brunette glaring at the back of his father's standing figure -... fuck you ...- he then whispered before scooting over and out of the convoy, to join his father in the extremely fake parade of smiles and nods, while they proceeded inside the building, to join other journalist and security, which was surrounding a happy family of five

-That is the boy over there ...- suddenly pointed out Atsushi

-... you don't say ...- absently whispered Satoshi, who had now fixed his gaze on a very shy looking child, holding his father's hand, and trying to from all the flashing cameras behind his fathers leg, who seemed to be sincerely laughing at the whole situation, while he attempted to carefully move the kid from behind his leg; … how so incredibly pointless was all of this?

-Good morning my beloved students, here is me, Mori Sano, and cameraman Tanaka Yune, under special permission, which we received thanks to the relevance of our honorable school, Danshi no Bitoku, making us the only high school present today, in the national press conference to wish a safe journey overseas to Tomohisa Higuchi - began a rather young looking newscaster talking to an as young looking cameramen, both apparently coming from his same high school, given by the distinctive uniform composed of black slacks, red shirt, black tie, and white jacket, with the emblem of the school; … who even knew where his own jacket was, had he ever wore it? …

-That over there is Tomohisa Higuchi, the young four year old deaf prodigy, whom has quickly become a sensation in the nation, and whom had also being already etiquette as “Japan's little Einsten”, and is scheduled to depart from Japan for a year long trip to the United States tomorrow, even though it is the first day of school for this year - suddenly stopping, to look towards Satoshi, and hurriedly indicating the cameraman to go towards them; … great ... here it started

-... and finally we have our very respected parliamentarian Sakurai-sensi, who is said to soon run for the position of secretary of state - explained Sano, deeply bowing, at a satisfyingly smiling and nodding Atsushi -... and here is his son, Sakurai Satoshi, who is also our second year school mate, who has offered to exchange a few word with Tomohisa, whom among his talents, is capable of perfectly understanding people's labial, making it easy for people such as myself, who unfortunately know close to nothing about sign-language- concluded Sano with a gentle laughter.

-They are here!- suddenly shouted a journalist, as half of the press turned towards the Sakurai family, and roughly pushing over Sano, and his cameraman, in the attempt to get to them, who had began their walk towards the family of five, standing in front of table set for them on a stage.

Along side Tomohisa and his father, there were other two kids, one, who might have been more or less a year older than Tomohisa, and the other might have been around the same age of Satoshi, and last, was a middle aged man, who was introduced as an uncle.

The suddenly fell into a heavily awaiting silence, as soon as Atsushi, and Satoshi walked on stage. All eyes, cameras, and microphones pointed towards them, as well as the family, who had turned to regard them with an excessively respectful bow, which was replied by an as well quite respectful and polite one of the Sakurai family members. A few seconds later, Higuchi-san walked away from his family, followed by a female sign-language translator, and with a yet very bashful looking Tomohisa, closely walking next to him, still very tightly holding his father's hand like his life depended on it; … most have been an amazing feeling to be able to rely so much on a father figure.

-Here Tomohisa ...- began speaking his father looking down at his child -... this is Satoshi, and he came to talk to you- concluded the man with a reassuring smile, as the little boy, nodded while looking up at his father, which Satoshi took it as a clue for his awaited entrance; … showtime.

Taking a few step forward, Satoshi stooped in front of Tomohisa, offering him a wide warm smile, with a wave of his hand -My name is Satoshi, nice to meet you Tomohisa - began the brunette, to which the boy brought up his tiny digits and signed his reply, which was being readily spoken by the female translator

-Nice to meet you -

-I heard you are going to America ...- resumed Satoshi, never once losing his smile - … are you excited?- he then inquired, at which question the boy replied with a lowered head, and a slow shake of his head in negation, causing some of the present to whisper in concern and shock.

-And why is that? ...- swiftly inquired Satoshi, in a tone of slight bemusement, who had to admit, didn't expect a negative reply from the boy

Tomohisa kept his head lowered, and began to kick an imaginary stone with his foot for a second or more, before shyly looking up at Satoshi, and began his reply

-... I want to start school tomorrow with my friends … like everybody else- concluded Tomohisa, at which reply everyone present in the room seemed to go “Aww”, for some reason regarding the boy's reply as something so extremely cute; everyone but Satoshi.

He could see it, the same wonder, the same question ...why me? … very clearly displayed in the child's eyes, and for the first time ever, Satoshi had found himself dropping his act, and regarding the boy with honest pitiful eyes. Just as himself, he hadn't asked to be a so called “deaf genius”, he didn't want to be snapped never ending photos; he hadn't asked for any of it. Suddenly reaching for the boy's hand, Satoshi took it into his, and fondly smiling he resumed talking

-I know it is hard, but you are not going to stay away forever, you will be back and newly play with your friends again - observed Satoshi, at which Tomohisa slowly withdrew his hand to give his reply

-But what if they forget about me, I don't want them to forget about me ...- sadly signed Tomohisa, once again followed by what Satoshi thought of the most inconsiderate, and meaningless “Aww” of the crowd

-I am sure … they will not- hopefully lied Satoshi, who really didn't know, about the reliability of the memory of a four year old -... but if it happens, I ...- he then swiftly added -... I will be your friend, and I promise not to forget you - he then spoke, slightly chuckling at the boy's curiously skeptical look -... may I be your friend? - politely inquired Satoshi, extending his hand towards the boy.

Tomohisa stayed immobile for a while staring at the given hand, and looked as if he was seriously contemplating the “risks” of shaking it, but as kids usually do, he then displayed a bright wide smile, and vigorously shook Satoshi's hand, inducing a loud crashing clap of hands from everyone in the room, Atsushi included, who Satoshi was sure he was clapping just to follow the flow. Once the excitement had died into a new silence, Tomohisa withdrew his hand in other to add something else

-... Promise not to forget me? ...- singed the boy, extending his pinky finger towards Satoshi, who replied with a reassuring nod, and uniting his pinky with Tomohisa he began singing

Yubikiri genman

Uso tsuitara

Hari senbon nomasu

Yubi kitta

Once he had finished the traditional Japanese “promise song”, they stayed unmoving looking at each other, both satisfyingly smiling, savoring the moment of the birth of a new promise, a knew friendship, and perhaps at least for Satoshi, some sort of purpose in life, the inspiration to want to do something useful and good, for a world he had long forsaken; the connection, and understanding of two young pairs of hopeful eyes.

-... I promise -

---### Chapter I ###---

A/N: FINALLY. I am so excited about this series, I have been working a whole long semester on it, and currently about to finish the Prequel for it, and about to start jotting down the Sequel. Hopeful Eyes I have finished jotting down (meaning that I still have to write the actual chapters) during my trip in Nigeria, so hopefully it shouldn't take to long to post the next chapters, though there still other fics I have to update, and life itself (^_^ ! )

Next chapter, we go back to the present of the story, which is in 2010, hopefully you will give me the honor to stick with me to the end, and I'll say this immediately … nothing is ever what it seems in this story … that is all I can say, I will be updating the warning and headers for each paragraph, according to what happens in said paragraph, but to have best results I would suggest to follow the story until the end; please trust me.

So thank you so much for reading everyone, I am really grateful and happy. Much Love (^_^ ! )/.

Here is the translation for the “Yubikiri genman” off my head in case there were people, who didn't speak Japanese (^_^ ):

[Yubikiri = literally “cutting a finger”, Genman = for what I remember there is a long deal with this word, but in this “song” it is safe to get it “pact, deal”, so “Yubikiri Genman” → “Pack of the cutting finger”]

Yubikiri genman

If you lie

I'll let you swallow a thousand needles

And cut off you finger

… something on those lines (^_^;; )