He reached for our keys, giving me mine just in case he had to leave early, so I could come home by myself later in the morning.
I took a deep breath and the vivid images from my dream drifted into my mind. I followed James, whose hand was still in mine as we walked down the hall to the elevator, but my attention continued to go through the three scenes in my head.
My curiosity remained fixed on Storm Yuna and her sad plea. I tried never to think about life beyond death, but what if she was bound to this world because of the way she'd been murdered? I was aware that her essence was somehow a part of her watch, but that couldn't mean her soul...right?
"Crim?"
I blinked, shaking my head and turning my attention to James who was eyeing me. "Yes, James? Sorry, I was thinking about family stuff," I admitted, using the convenient excuse to hide my true thoughts.
He smiled. "Don't worry. Just continue being you, Crimson."
I nodded. "I will. Let's make the best of it. If all goes well and we get kicked out, we can always go drink. If so, drinks on me," I cheered.
I'd just have to think about it tomorrow. Maybe I'll draw it out before my run and ask Hakua about it. She's good with dream interpretations. Tomorrow is going to be awesome. I just have to survive dinner first. I mentally sighed.
Family...
"James. It's a pleasure to have you join us for dinner." Mother smiled in satisfaction.
"I agree. It’s an honor to have such a fine young man in our presence. We could have organized a dinner with your father if we knew you were so excited to join us," Father explained.
I stabbed my chopsticks into the thin meat on my plate, wishing I could use them to go on a killing spree and bust out of this place instead of sitting here and enduring the subtle insults that came at me, one after another.
We'd arrived thirty minutes early and lo and behold, James let go of my hand to make a phone call as soon as we turned the corner that led up to the large shrine. I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up, but there I was walking a few footsteps behind as James called his father to discuss something that he'd 'forgotten' and needed to clear up before the sun went down.
Whatever it was, I knew it wasn't as important as he proclaimed or he would have done it during our walk here. We could have easily driven or taken public transit, but walking was one of the only times we really got to spend with one another, not counting our drunken trysts.
Sure, it was pleasant and I had gotten a chance to catch up with what had been happening before Storm Yuna's death, but his shallow move at the end of it made everything prior seem meaningless.
James always made promises he couldn't keep. And I always fell for them, every single time.
When we reached the entrance to my family home, we were greeted by the maids. Actually, let me correct that; JAMES was greeted by the maids, with their endless waves of praises and squeals at his arrival while I was completely ignored. I ended up leaving him there on the doorstep, knowing I wouldn't get the same, joyous welcome.
When I'd reached the private corridors of my home, I was greeted by my mother. She was beyond beautiful and was in her half form.
She was 6'0” and had long silver hair. I think that was where I got my silver highlights from, not to mention my height, curves, and flawless skin. Even our eyes were the same vivid blue, but overall, my mom's beauty always made my heart skip in awe.
I wasn't the only one affected by her stunning appearance. When in her half kitsune form with her many white tails that practically glowed in the dim moonlight that had begun to shine upon the shrine and her white ears perched on her head, she was mesmerizing.
She wore a pink kimono with small white cherry blossoms. The silk material suited her perfectly. Even with the disgrace I'd brought to the family, she was never as bad as my dad. I knew she too, wished I wasn't human. But she was the one who birthed me, which formed a bond of sorts, and at the end of the day, I'd always be grateful for that small blessing.
We didn't exchange many words, just a simple hug that meant more than anything before we worked on setting the table for dinner.
Now we were midway through dinner and I sat across from James while my parents were at opposite ends of the dining table.
"Crimson, how is that hobby of yours coming along?" Father questioned.
I reluctantly lifted my eyes to meet my dad's black ones. His expression alone let me know this was just a way for him to save face, playing the role of my parent rather than actually caring about my current career.
His long black hair was tied in a ponytail and he'd recently shaved his beard so there was just a stubble of black hair. I could see a few grey hairs, but he still looked young for his age. With his built figure and 6'4” height, he still looked like he could face an army and survive.
"It's a career, Father. I've done a few paintings and they sell well," I replied, looking down at my plate of food that I'd barely touched. Since James was here I didn't need to speak Japanese which I was thankful for.
I adored my heritage and the language associated with it, but I had no respect for the man before me who never truly showed me love. There was only one person in my life who'd shown me some kindness in my childhood, but he'd disappeared long ago and my only assumption was my father found out and forced him to leave.
Hotaka Jiyuna. I cherished the few memories I had of him. He was someone who I always dreamed to have as a father. He'd been a dear friend of my mom's for years before I was born, having known her all the way from playschool to combat training. From pictures I’d found, I knew he was there for her marriage and for my birth as well.
But the last memory I had of him was when I was six. I tried asking my mother about it when Father wasn't around, but she just gave me a sad smile and said he was in another country helping other shifters in need.
"Art is not a career. You should do what the other successful humans do and go to medical school. You at least have some brains in that department," Father grumbled, rolling his eyes.
"Hachimitsu." My mother narrowed her eyes at him, a warning for him to stop. I knew she usually said ‘Honey’ in English when we had visitors over, but if she was getting upset she went full Japanese and didn't care about company.
"What? I'm only stating the truth. All she does is paint silly drawings that I bet don't make enough to buy a decent meal. She should just take my offer and go to medical school. We won't be here for her forever," he retorted.
"And how have you been here for me? Last time I checked which was two minutes and eleven seconds ago, you were more excited about James' presence than your own daughter’s. Oh wait, I forgot, I'm a disgrace to the family name," I grumbled, setting my chopsticks down. No point in trying to act like I was going to eat anything. With the conversation heading south, I would be leaving in a few minutes.
"Crimson, do not listen to what others say." Mother tried to comfort me, but Father interrupted.
"No, she should. Maybe she'd be more humble and learn to accept her circumstances. It's thanks to us that you’re even able to come to this shrine whenever you like," he seethed.
"Whenever I want? I come here FOUR times a year and that's only with YOUR approval. Other than that, you'd rather I was in another country than dare step foot on your holy grounds and taint it with my presence!"
"Crim," James whispered, giving me a wary look.
The room was silent and I sighed. "I should get home. I have sword dance training in the morning," I announced.
"Crimson dear." Mom gave me a pleading look.
I smiled sadly at her. This always ended up happening and I never got alone time with her to simply talk anymore. My father monitored her phone activity and us having long conversations would only result in her being yelled at later on. She didn't need my father's frustration. No one did.