Stresses and terrors

"That's your plan? You're out of your mind", Akiko stated.

"It's th-the best I could th-think of. And if my observ-vations are right, this could w-work", Benjiro defended

"He's not wrong Little Miss Akiko, there's plenty of people that can't just memorize stuff just like *that*", Fumihiro affirmed with a snap of his fingers.

Akiko set down her pizza, "But you're missing one crucial detail: Haruoka doesn't like you. In fact, you can count the number of people she tolerates on one hand."

"Mayb-be, but I'd l-like to give it a tr-try."

Akiko sighed and shook her head, "I seriously don't understand why you're even trying. Doesn't she scare you at all?"

Benjiro shrugged, "A little, I s-suppose. But I kn-know how frustr-rating it can be to not underst-stand something. Especial-ly when someth-thing you want is on the l-line."

Looking at the young man's face, Akiko recognized the gaze. It was the same as when he was intensely concentrating on his makeup work. That strangely intense and concentrated yet simultaneously satisfied and relaxed expression that only appeared in those few small instances when there was nobody around to criticize how he did things. Nibbling on her pizza, she began to wonder how the boy would act if he wasn't always so shy and introverted. Thinking back to the karaoke trip, she supposed it was anyone's guess as to how people would react.

"Hey, Higaki, are you doing alr-right?" she heard Benjiro ask.

"Yes, why do you ask?" she said in a voice that sounded much too high pitched.

"Y-You're face looks like it's getting r-red. D-Do you need some ice w-water?"

Akiko hurriedly waved both hands and spoke in a rapid-fire tone, "No! I'm quite alright, probably just been accumulating stress from everything. I should probably go now. I need to get an early start."

She got up and made her way to the foyer, still firing off reasons as to why she had to head home. Benjiro couldn't help but wonder how she could talk for so long and so fast, seemingly without taking a breath. The two Nojiri's heard the front door open and close and made sure she got inside from the living room window.

"B-Boy, what was th-that?", Benjiro thought out loud, "You'd th-think we t-told her that the p-pizza was t-topped with human skin w-with how fast she r-ran."

Fumihiro had a smile on his face like a child that had been told a secret. The kind that hinted at having a secret and enjoyed watching his friends guess what it was.

"Wh-What's with the sm-smile."

"Oh, nothing. Just getting a kick out of watching the show."

"Hey, Dad, do you th-think I'm overst-stepping here? Like, is it w-weird that I'm trying-g to teach s-someone who d-doesn't like me?"

Fumihiro recognizing the change of pace, replaced his smile with a more serious, contemplative look. After he took a moment to think, he asked, "Well, why do you feel the need to go out of your way to help this girl, even though she's about as friendly as a rabid hound?"

Benjiro plopped himself back on the couch to take a moment to think for himself, "M-Maybe because I j-just feel l-like it?"

"I think we both know that's not it", Fumihiro shot down, "You may have your reasons, but you wouldn't do something like this purely out of just an impulse."

Benjiro continued to sit and think and said, "B-Because I had a s-similar problem w-with studying, m-maybe?"

Fumihiro nodded his head in assent, "You did throw a few fits whenever something you really couldn't understand came up. Remember how you'd break your pencils out of frustration?"

The mop-headed boy hoped that by lowering his head, his hair could cover his grimace.

"But son, while it may not be a bad thing to go the extra mile for someone, you shouldn't go out of your way for someone that refuses to cooperate."

"I'll try to k-keep that in m-mind."

"And, maybe if you play your cards right, little miss Higaki just may say yes if you ask her out to a night on the town."

"DAD!", Benjiro yelled, throwing a pillow at his Dad who was busy laughing his head off.

That night, either out of anticipation or most likely anxiety, Benjiro couldn't get much sleep. Doubts and questions about what he was hoping to try with Haruoka clouded his thoughts. He knew that at best she may just blow him off and refuse to listen to him. Remembering how she twisted his arm didn't give him the impression she'd respond like a normal person. Benjiro turned onto his side to find a good song on his phone. Sometimes the need for smooth jazz to relax the soul came to him. The calm, lilting melody of "Waltz for Zizi" took the edge off the twinge in his chest.

The songs shifted and as Benjiro shut his eyes, and drifted into dreamland. Opening them back up he found himself inside a smoky, dimly lit night club, playing the piano or plucking out a rhythm on a bass guitar as a woman wearing a black sequined dress sang a sultry song. She sang of lost love, a life that she put to rest and how she seemed to find herself stuck in one place. He found himself wondering why jazz music, though could take on so many different and specific forms yet still be such an ambiguous type of music that one never truly knew what to expect.

Suddenly the lights went out and Benjiro was blinded by the darkness. When he could see again, anxiety and fear seized his thoughts as he realized where he was. The jazz club was replaced by the old, run-down house again, "No. No! Not again! Please not this place again."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth before he could hear the eerie shrieking of the creature. He turned and saw it in all its decaying, hideous anti-glory. He tore through the abandoned building trying to get away as the monster opened fresh wounds on his back and shoulders. The urge to panic made it so hard to breathe that he choked and his fear was so overwhelming that tears were forming in the crook of his eyes. Benjiro wanted to scream for all he was worth, either to call for help or just to relieve some of the tension that was building inside his chest.

Running pell-mell through the abandoned house, he tripped and fell face forward into the wall. Bolts of pain shot through his head as dream turned into reality. There was always those few brief moments when dream and reality refused to separate. Benjiro recognized that he was still in his room, but vestiges of the abandoned house and the monster still lingered, fresh in his mind's eye. Short bursts of throaty yells tried to escape his mouth as the fright dug its ugly claws into his brain.

The sound of rushing footsteps could be heard as Fumihiro burst into the room, "Son! What was that crashing noise?!"

Hearing his father's voice helped Benjiro to snap to his senses. His breathing was still ragged, his body was slick with sweat and his heart was still beating at what seemed like a million miles an hour. Kneeling on the ground in front of his son, Fumihiro embraced and tried to reassure him in a slightly shaky voice, "It's alright, son, I'm here. You're not in that house, you're back in your room. And that monster's not coming for you, understand?"

Trying to sound less vulnerable, Fumihiro hardened his voice, "That monster's not real. And if it were, I'd tear it apart if it tried to hurt you."

Benjiro clutched onto his Dad as hard as he could. Fumihiro flinched a little at his son's surprisingly strong grip, but endured it. Ignoring the pain in his back, he rubbed Benjiro's back in small circular motions and tried to get him to breath evenly. When it seemed like he was still having trouble, he began singing the song that always helped to calm his troubled son down: "Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly."

His father was slightly off key, so Benjiro tried jumping in: "T-Take these sunken eyes and learn to see." His voice was shaky but, the distraction of singing was helping. The two started singing together, "Blackbird fly, blackbird fly. Into the light of a dark black night."

Leaning his son forward, "Are you feeling a little better n- Holy sh*t!" Fumihiro touched his son's forehead, "That is a lot of blood."

Benjiro reached up and gingerly touched his forehead to find that it was wet with blood as well as sweat. He remembered hitting a wall in his dream but didn't know how he got a head wound. He made a drawn out "Oooohhh", seeing that n front of him was his dresser which had a small red mark on it.

"Hold still for a minute", Fumihiro ordered, "I'm gonna get the first aid kit."

Compared to the countless emergencies that Fumihiro had tended to, taking care of a simple cut on the head that didn't even cause a fracture wasn't that bad. But cleaning away the blood and padding it with gauze, the burly man couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling in his gut. Bloody wounds usually looked a lot worse than they actually were, head wounds especially so, but it wasn't the wound itself that was bothering him. Seeing his son in such an upset state pained Fumihiro more than being alone ever had. However in the midst of the uneasiness was a resolve to see that he did his best to ensure that his son was safe.

Benjiro's head ached with a painful rhythm as the bandage absorbed his blood. With his night terrors, sleep was something he was hesitant to do. Thoughts of the monster that always lay in wait plagued his mind. It could've been from the stress of Haruoka, Domon and her crazy fan club, but as of late, the terrors seemed to be getting worse. His alarm clock next to his bed had been telling him for the last few nights that he had only been able to sleep for an hour, maybe an hour and a half before they eventually woke him.

"I'll stay right her until you fall asleep, alright?", Fumihiro offered.

Benjiro just silently nodded, too mentally and physically tired to do anything else. He settled himself onto his uneven sheets and tried to settle his breathing into a pattern that would help him relax. Fumihiro just sat with his back on the slightly bloodied dresser and quietly continued to hum "Blackbird" for a little while until he saw that Benjiro's chest was rising and falling in a steady beat.

Standing up and rubbing his own aching head, "Kiddo, you're gonna be the death of me."