The soft music traverses through the air, filling the entire house with an artificial sense of quiet calm. The old man closes his eyes, lost in the ethereal enchantment that the boy is casting. The boy peers at his mother. He sees her twisting the handkerchief with undisguised hate in her eyes. She lowers her head when she notices his gaze. His fingers clench the bow.
The atmosphere changes all of a sudden. The air turns tense. The old man frowns a bit. The sharp turn in the music instills agitation and frustration in his heart. The music is no longer as gentle as the breeze. It's laced with growing poison that infects the listeners in the room.
"Stop, Heiji."
As soon as he hears the command, the boy stops.
The old man looks at him with a smile. "My son, are you not feeling well?"
The boy shrugs, not bothering to answer his grandfather. He has to be quiet. He can never correct his grandfather. His name isn't Kirishima Heiji. He is Kirishima Yuki. The people in the house often can't see him. They see another person in him.
"Come to me, Heiji." The old man signals him to come closer. Yuki looks at his mother, biting his lower lip in worry. He sees her mother trembling. The light in her eyes is disappearing. He watches her lips move, but there's no sound.
'It's always about him.'
"Heiji." The voice is low, but the slight impatience and irritation are evident in the tone. The boy has no choice.
"Father." He glances at the old man with only emptiness in his eyes and voice. "I am sorry for not playing well today. I hurt my wrist earlier."
His grandfather looks at the bandaged wrapped clumsily around the boy's wrist. He removes it and sees the swelling. "Aya, why didn't you help your brother?"
Kirishima Ayaka looks away. His father can't see anyone else other than her brother. Sometimes, she feels that she doesn't exist in this house at all.
"It was my fault." Yuki tries to pull his arm, but the old man grabs it hard. He winces in pain. His eyes turn misty. He looks at his mother again, hoping. But she's biting her lip so hard that it's bleeding.
"Heiji, I told you to take care of your hands." He grips his wrist hard. "What will we do Heiji if you can't play anymore?"
The boy looks back again. His mother is holding her head, not meeting his gaze. His wrist hurts. Hopeless, he turns his head toward his grandfather and speaks with a pleading tone, "I am sorry, Grandfather. This won't happen again."
"My son is wise," says the old man as he tightens his fingers the boy's wrist. His wrinkled face leans closer to him. "But he still makes mistakes."
Yuki purses his lips. Apologizing won't work anymore. He squeezes his eyes and holds his breath, ready for the pain. Several minutes pass. Nothing happens. He opens his gray eyes and looks at the old man in front of him, not trusting him one bit.
His grandfather lets go of his wrist. "The swelling isn't serious. It will go down with time. Heiji must take rest today."
The young boy rubs his wrist a little. It still hurts. Seeing that his grandfather has relaxed his shoulders, he eases up a bit. His grandfather won't punish him. He can go out to play now. Getting hurt a little isn't bad. He glances in his mother's direction again.
The old man's eyes snap open. Yuki lets out a scream when the old man grabs the back of his head. "Grandfather, I won't do it again! I won't get hurt again!"
"Heiji, how many times have I told you to take care of your hands?" The old man glowers at the boy who has his wife's eyes. "If you can't play anymore, you do not need to exist either."
"I can play, I can play." Yuki's shrill cries fill the house. "My hand doesn't hurt."
"You cannot play, you foolish boy!" The old man hollers at Yuki. "If you can't fulfill your mother's last wish, what is your use? Why should I let you live? It's been years. You haven't been able to complete the piece."
Yuki begs for his mother's help. "Mother, save me. Save me."
Kirishima Ayaka is gasping for hair. She's pale and cold. She steps back, afraid. In front of her, she can't see Yuki, her son. Her father looks at her. She shakes her head before he can accuse me.
"It's not my fault, Father. I tried to stop him." She has to run. She has to hide before her father finds her. "He gets hurt intentionally because he doesn't want to play the violin. It's his fault. Don't look at me like that."
"You should have been able to protect his hands." The old man spats out the words in hate. "I told you that you have to protect your brother at all times."
"I try hard, Father." Kirishima Ayaka glares at Yuki. "But he never listens to me. He keeps getting into fights."
The old man grabs the boy's shoulders. "Is she speaking the truth, Heiji?"
Yuki swallows hard. If he lies, it will be worse. "I didn't know that he would hurt my wrist."
"Then, she's telling the truth." The chill in his grandfather's voice shakes him. His grandfather sighs. "My son is wise, but he still makes mistakes."
Kirishima Ayaka smiles. Her brother is getting what he deserves.