Shattered Reflections

Ayato POV:

I dragged myself out of the bathroom, tired eyes searching for the comfort of the first hoodie and trousers I could find in my closet.

The events of yesterday and the looming "lunch with Father" command still clung to my thoughts like a persistent fog.

"Id rather stay home and slurp on some cup ramen for lunch". Hmmmmm yeah lets do that.

In the dim light of my room, I slipped into the familiar black hoodie, an emblem of rebellion. I followed suit and yanked on a pair of trousers, the choice arbitrary, just like my compliance with Father's demands.

I needed something to wash away the lingering bitterness, so I headed to the kitchen. The fridge held a half-empty carton of milk – my makeshift remedy for a world that refused to bend to my will.

As I reached for the milk, the quiet of the morning was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps. Taro, a kid I picked up from the streets, darted into the kitchen, wide-eyed and panting.

Before I could utter a greeting, he cut me off with a hushed urgency.

"There's a scary-looking man in a suit at the door," he blurted out, his words rushed and urgent.

My heart skipped a beat, and a chill ran down my spine. I muttered a curse under my breath, my mind instantly connecting the unwelcome guest to the ominous message from Father.

Ignoring Taro's attempt to say something else, I braced myself for whatever awaited beyond the apartment door.

The hallway was eerily quiet as I approached, the air thick with tension. My hand hesitated for a moment before gripping the doorknob.

With a deep breath, I swung the door open to confront the ominous figure in the suit.

There he stood, a looming presence with an aura of authority. His gaze met mine, unwavering.

The unspoken message was clear – I couldn't escape the shadows of my past, no matter how hard I tried to ignore them.

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The door swung open and after a long stare-down session. The scary-looking old man's expression softened a bit, and he mumbled something like, "Parents really do know their children," which I caught without a problem.

I raised an eyebrow, ready for whatever was coming.

I greeted him with a simple, "What are you doing so early in the morning, Yoshiko-san?"

He responded in a warm but professional tone, "Your father knew you wouldn't come so he sent me to get you, Ayato-sama."

I didn't waste time. "Go back and tell him I'm sick or something," I said.

Yoshiko, the main house butler calmly replied, "The possibility of you being sick seems very unlikely."

"Tsk"

I audibly clicked my tongue in annoyance.

"Look, Ayato-sama," Yoshiko began,

His tone steady, "I understand your frustration, but going against Kenji-sama will only bring trouble for both of us. It's best if you just go along with your father's wishes."

I grunted in frustration, realizing that going against him was a losing battle. "Yeah Yeah Fine" I muttered, reluctantly conceding to the inevitable.

"Let me change"

"Splendid! Ill be waiting for you right outside." He flashed a beaming smile at me. 

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 As I closed the door, I noticed Taro peeking in from the living room, his curiosity evident. I motioned for him to take care of the house while I was out, and he gave me a quick nod.

After changing into something a bit more formal but still casual, I headed outside.

There, Yoshiko was waiting beside a driver and a sleek black car that seemed to draw attention from passersby, who whispered to each other, speculating about the apparent wealth of the owner. Words like "Rolls Royce Phantom" floated through the air.

Ignoring the curious glances, I rushed to get in, not enjoying the sudden spotlight.

As Yoshiko settled in beside me in the back seat and the car started moving, the hushed chatter from the onlookers continued.

Ignoring the curious glances, I rushed to get in, not enjoying the sudden spotlight.

Yoshiko settled in beside me in the back seat as the car started moving.

With a warm fatherly smile, he said, "You haven't changed one bit after all these years, Ayato-sama," muttering a quiet "I'm glad" under his breath.

I deadpanned, "You too haven't. You still have that silly-looking mustache," to which Yoshiko gracefully replied that his wife back home seemed to like it.

I cracked a faint smile at his response, secretly appreciating the familiarity.

As the car glided through the streets, Yoshiko and I exchanged a few more words. "You always had a way of finding trouble," he teased, and I shot back, "Trouble seems to find me."

Yoshiko chuckled, "Some things never change." Then, in a more serious tone, he added, "But Ayato-sama, there are things that have changed. Your father... he's not the man he used to be. He wants to mend things with you."

I glanced out of the window, the passing scenery a backdrop to the complicated emotions stirred by Yoshiko's words. "We'll see about that," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

ITS YOUR FAULT AYATO!!

Yoshiko respected my silence but continued the conversation. "Your mother would have wanted this, Ayato-sama. To see her family united."

A pang of emotion hit me.

ITS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!

"We'll see" I could do nothing but repeat my words.

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"Ummm sorry for interrupting but I wanted to let you know we have arrived."

The driver's announcement broke the silence, announcing our arrival at the Kirishima Estate. The massive doors swung open, revealing the familiar sight of the family domain.

In my eyes, it wasn't a breathtaking scene; it was just the place I grew up.

In my eyes, the Kirishima Estate unfolded like a grand tapestry.

The sprawling grounds boasted manicured gardens, the vibrant colors of various flowers painting a picturesque scene. Workers diligently tended to the greenery, creating a harmonious blend of nature and opulence.

The car glided along a magnificent driveway. As a wave of complicated nostalgia quickened my heart beat.

As we approached the main residence, the sheer scale of the mansion seemed apparent

. Its architectural elegance and grandeur spoke of wealth and power, a testament to the Kirishima legacy. But to me it was all gray.

The car entered the gates, and a hush fell over the once-bustling gardens. The workers, recognizing the emblem on the car and understanding the significance, halted their tasks.

They stood in admiration, bowing forward as the car passed, a clear acknowledgment that the eldest son of the Kirishima Corporation had returned home.

It felt routine, a display of respect I had grown up with.

The weight of the Kirishima name lingered in the atmosphere, and as the car approached the grand entrance, I braced myself for what was to come.

The car came to a halt, and a guard promptly opened the door for me. As I stepped out, a line of butlers and maids formed, offering a rehearsed

"Welcome home, young master!"

Their voices held a mix of anticipation and nervousness, but I simply ignored the commotion, my gaze remaining cold and unwavering.

I moved steadily past the welcoming committee, and as I entered the mansion, my gaze met my father's.

The dangerous glint in both our similar eyes was unmistakable, sending a shiver through the workers witnessing this silent confrontation.

Nervousness hung in the air as the unspoken tension between father and son became palpable.

Kenji Kirishima, the current head and my father, spoke in a mechanical tone, "I knew you'd come, son." I met his words with a steely resolve, responding, "You gave me no choice." But he ignored my words, brushing them aside.

In a calm yet commanding tone, he instructed me to follow him to his study.

I abided, and as we both started moving through the grand halls of the mansion.

As we proceed through the grand halls, my eyes catch another pair of eyes. A beautiful girl with shoulder-length brown hair and captivating green eyes meets my gaze.

There's an intensity to her curiosity that I can't ignore.

The realization hits me—this must be Yuna, my step-sister, the one I had heard about when my father remarried some time ago. We had never met until now.

Caught off guard by the unexpected encounter, my father stops, and in his usual mechanical tone, he says, "She's your sister."

Yuna gracefully bows, her eyes still gleaming with curiosity, and introduces herself, "I'm Yuna. Nice to meet you." She flashes a small, warm smile.

I, maintaining my apathetic demeanor, respond with a monotone, "Likewise," and resume following my father to the study.

The air is charged with an unspoken tension, and I can't shake the feeling that Yuna's eyes are still fixed on me as she follows beside both of us.

her eyes still carrying that intense curiosity. She breaks the silence, attempting to strike up a conversation, 

"umm Ayato nii-sa-"

I glance at her, my apathetic exterior unwavering. "Don't call me that," I say coldly, dismissing any attempts to establish a familial connection.

"No" This little-

"As i sai-"

"No" She interrupted me with a eye blinding smile

"Whatever" She sure is a stubborn one....

"So, Ayato nii-san, what brings you back home after all this time?"

I remain guarded, "Business," I respond curtly, my eyes focused straight ahead.

Yuna, undeterred by my reserved nature, persists, "You know, I've heard so much about you. Dad rarely talks about the family business, but I always wondered what it's like."

I raise an eyebrow, slightly surprised by her openness. "It's not as glamorous as you might think," I reply cryptically.

The trio arrives at the entrance of Kenji Kirishima's study. Yuna, with a final glint of curiosity in her eyes, says, "Well, I hope we get to spend more time together. It's been lonely here without any siblings."

She flashes another small smile before excusing herself, "I'll leave you two to your business."

Father nods, and Yuna gracefully departs. I follow my father into the study, where the air is heavy with the weight of unresolved family matters.

The door closes behind us, sealing us in a room fraught with unspoken tension.

Kenji gestures toward a chair, "Have a seat, Ayato. We need to talk."

I take a seat, my expression unreadable.

"Talk away"

I say, a trace of indifference in my voice. The room feels like a battleground, and I'm prepared for whatever revelations or confrontations lie ahead.