beginnings

Akira stood barefoot in the middle of the room, brush in hand , head tilted sightly as he examined his work .

A half finished landscape stared back at him , soft blues leading into warm golds

he clicked his tongue

‘‘Its all to stiff, the colors don’t blend in like i want them to’’. he muttered .

he stepped closer, lifting his brush toward the edge of the canvas

the bristles hovered.

he paused.

‘‘This line just looks so awful .‘'

the line he had meant to soften.. looked strange

akira blinked once

twice

the gold at the horizon seemed to blur into the sky, edges melting like wet ink

he leaned back slightly

‘' did i over blend that?’’

he leaned forward slightly

he wiped the brush against a cloth and and leaned in again

‘‘its all blurry now’’

after a moment, he huffed softly

‘' guess i was up too late again ‘'

akira glanced at his phone

‘‘thirty minutes…i’ve still got time for a quick power nap ‘'

Fifty minutes later ,

In just the nick of time his cat decided it was the perfect moment for affection. the soft fur brushed against his cheek,whiskers tickling his nose

akira groaned , half asleep,swatting lazily at the air

‘‘five more minutes’’

the purring didn’t stop

he rolled over and squinted at his phone

‘‘thirty minutes’’

His stomach dropped

he shot upright , nearly knocking the cat off the couch

‘‘alex! you could have tried to wake me up earlier ‘'

he yanked his clothes from the dresser, throwing them onto the bed , muttering

‘‘why does getting ready always take longer than it should ‘'

The kimono lay neatly folded ,he stared at it

‘‘how do they even wear this damn thing ?’’ He fumbled with the belt , looping it one way,then the other twisting it around , muttering curses .

finally , after what felt like an eternity of knots and folds , he stepped back, inspected himself and gave a small triumphant nod.

A knock on the door sounded. Perfect timing .

The family butler appeared , expression perfectly neutral

‘' Master , are you ready sir ‘'

akira hurried out ‘‘yes, yes! lets go!’’

They finally arrive at the event crowned

‘‘ the sasaki crown jewel’

The entrance was overflowing with people interviewers flashing microphones , fans pressing against velvet ropes and critics waiting to get inside.

camera lights flickered in the distant

But akira was not looking at them

His eyes locked onto the massive banner stretched above the doors

THE SASAKI CROWN JEWEL.

His fathers fifth exhibition. Already being called one of his greatest

his siblings would be presenting their own works as well.

and him?

He swallowed.

nothing

akira forced a quiet laugh under his breath as he adjusted his collar

‘‘The sasaki crown jewel, huh?’’ he muttered

‘‘The old man really went all out this time . im happy for them ‘'

the butler walking beside him did not respond immediately

he had served the sasaki household long enough to hear what was not being said

‘‘yes my lord’’ he said gently . But you needn’t trouble your self with reaching their heights tonight .’’

A small pause

‘‘simply enjoy the exhibition’’

akira smiled

But it did not quite reach his eyes

a little further down the steps, Himari stood waiting

Arms crossed. foot tapping

she spotted him immediately

And he spotted the storm brewing on her face

‘‘Hey, moron ‘‘‘she called out . I told you i would meet you here. So explain why am i the one waiting?’’

Akira forced an awkward grin, rubbing the back of his neck

‘' sorry. Claude had a breakdown with the limo.we had to wait until it was ready to leave.’’

‘‘that is not true, my lord,’’ the butler said calmly.

himari’s frown deepened

‘‘seriously?’’

she stepped forward and twisted akiras cheek

“‘Ow himari! that hurts ‘'

‘‘Next time , you better listen to what i tell you to do . got it ‘'

Then with a small huff , she grabbed his wrist. ‘‘they are going to take al the good seats hurry up ‘'

she pulled him toward the entrance

As they walked toward the exhibition center, Akira remembered he’d been told to meet his mother.

“Hey, Himari… can I ask a favor?” he said, gripping her hand tightly. “I know we’re already late, but… can we make a detour to the backstage? Apparently, Mother wants to see me.”

The smile on Himari’s face immediately faded.

“Ah… sure, I guess. But do I really have to come with you? Doesn’t she still… hate me?”

Akira squeezed her hand. She knew he wouldn’t be able to face them all alone.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll come. At least she can tolerate looking at me these days.”

When they arrived at the backstage entrance, a man blocked their way.

“Sorry, sir, you need a pass to enter this area.”

Akira dug through his pockets. Nothing. He’d left it on the couch.

A small, awkward laugh escaped him.

“Um… I might have forgotten mine. But… I’m one of the Sasaki family members. Doesn’t that give me entry by default?”

The man didn’t budge.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I was given strict orders by Mr. Sota to not let anyone in without a pass.”

Akira sighed. He had suspected something like this from his brother Sota.

Himari’s patience was nearly gone. She opened her mouth to argue when suddenly, they were saved.

“Step aside, you. That’s my son you’re talking to.”

It was his mother Miss Mai Sasaki dressed in an elegant, flowing gown that shimmered under the lights.

The guard stammered.

“Mi-Miss Mai… I apologize, but I—”

Before he could finish, she smacked him lightly with her ornate fan.

“Did you not hear him tell you that we share the same name? Or are you just deaf? He has more right to be here than any of you! Step aside.”

Her attention shifted to Akira.

“My handsome Aki! How have you been?” she said, striding toward him, completely ignoring Himari. “Oh… you’ve lost weight! I’ve told you to eat more. And…” Her glare snapped toward Himari. “It’s all your fault! Aki I told you to find a woman who could take care of you properly!”

Himari’s irritation flared, but Akira tried to intervene.

“Hey, Mom… I’ve missed you.But Can you at least be nice to Himari for me, please?”

Mai huffed but didn’t respond directly, only reaching out to pull Akira into a quick, motherly hug. “Oh, my boy. You’re growing up too fast. I missed you.”

The scene shifted as they moved deeper into the hall.

Akira’s hand still held Himari’s, and she could feel the tension radiating from him. His fingers gripped hers tightly, betraying how uncomfortable he truly was.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“So, Mother… I heard you wanted to talk to me about something.”

Her frown deepened, a mixture of mild reproach and amusement.

“So, you’re not even going to ask about your own family? You left the house, yes… but that doesn’t mean you should stop caring about us,” she said, smacking him lightly on the head.

Akira laughed softly. For the first time since they arrived, a real smile reached his eyes.

“I… I apologize. But… how have they been? I’m guessing Father is still the same… cooped up in his workshop?”

She chuckled.

“It’s like you never left. But he’s doing alright. So are Sato and Airi. But as for why I called you here…” Her gaze sharpened toward Himari. “That’s between us, not people like her.”

Akira’s grip on Himari’s hand loosened slightly. She sensed he was finally more at ease, so she stepped back, giving him and his mother space.

They settled into an empty office nearby.

His mother reached for his hands. Her touch was warm but firm.

“Aki… you know we still love you, right? Please… come back home. We’ll find a way to fix things with your father.”

Akira withdrew his hands. Her grip balled up as if breaking. His chest ached at the sight.

He opened his mouth, ready to respond, ready to finally explain why he had left the years of feeling invisible, the endless pressure, the father’s harsh words about how he was a disgrace, the fight that finally drove him to leave and pursue his own path in painting.

But before he could speak, the door burst open.

Sato stepped in, wearing a light-blue kimono woven with fabrics fit for emperors. A laugh escaped him, full of arrogance.

“Well, well… if it isn’t Aki, sulking in the corner with Mother,” he said, spreading his arms like a king.

Akira’s chest tightened. Sato, the younger brother whose talent always overshadowed him, whose paintings won all the praise from their father… Sato, whose arrogance had made Akira’s quiet struggle feel meaningless.

He wanted to speak. To tell Sato everything. To defend the years of effort and passion that no one seemed to value.

But for now… he stayed silent.

Sato continued, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“You know… I really don’t know what Mother sees in you. I mean, you’re basically the stain on this family’s honor. You can’t even make a decent painting for Father to look at for more than a second.”

Mai stepped forward, her hands raised, trying to stop the verbal assault.

“Sato! Please… stop talking to your brother that way. You’re only making things worse than they need to be.”

Akira stood silently, breathing steadily. He didn’t respond.

“Sorry, Mother,” he said finally, his voice calm but firm. “I’ve moved on from this family. I’ve realized… no matter how much I try, I’ll never be enough for any of you.”

Sato’s grin only widened.

“So you’re going to run away like last time? Typical. A no show stain, just like all your paintings… worthless.”

Something inside Akira snapped.

He grabbed Sato by the collar and slammed his fist into his face. Sato hit the ground hard, the room echoing with the impact.

Mai froze, her hand clenching against her chest her sons… fighting in front of her… and there was nothing she could do but watch.

Akira straightened, brushing himself off. His eyes softened as he looked at his mother.

“I’ll see you at the exhibition, Mother. It’s the least I can do for you. And… I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused. I know how much you’ve fought for us… for this family, to at least be something real.”

With that, he walked out, leaving Sato sprawled on the ground and his mother holding back tears she refused to let fall.

Akira stepped into the grand exhibition hall. The lights gleamed off polished floors, and the scent of fresh paint mingled with the hum of whispered critiques and camera shutters.

He met up with Himari as they made their way to their seats. He wanted to be there for the whole show, no matter what.

And then… he saw him.

His father. Cold. Distant. Standing near the center of the gallery, inspecting the paintings with the detached air of a man who saw everything but nothing at all. He didn’t acknowledge Akira. Not even a glance.

Akira’s chest tightened. He forced a small bow, his greeting swallowed by the cold distance.

“Still the same,” he muttered under his breath.

Himari noticed the shadow across his face.

“Earth to Aki. Come on we came here to enjoy beautiful art pieces,” she said, nudging him.

She handed him her phone.

“Here take a picture of me with this wine. You only live once; I have to enjoy these fancy memories.”

Akira laughed. “Oh, so now you’re saying I never spoil you?” He grabbed the phone.

When he looked at the screen, it was blurry. He squinted and adjusted, finally finding the camera app after a few tries.

Himari’s concern softened her teasing.

“Hey… are you okay? I told you to sleep early. Look at what you’ve done to your eyes you can’t even find a simple app logo.”

“Yeah… I should get it checked tomorrow. It’s been like this since the morning,” he admitted quietly.

The show began.

The exhibition revealed the works: Sato’s bold, polished masterpieces; Airi’s delicate, introspective pieces; and their father’s own renowned creations displayed proudly on the walls. Each painting drew admiration, whispers, and pointed looks except Akira had none of his own to show.

His father stepped forward to give his final speech. Akira barely listened until the very end, when his father’s gaze finally swept over him.

“I am proud to have two talented heirs to continue the tradition,” his father said. “If only my first could follow in the same footsteps as his younger siblings…”

The room erupted with laughter.

His mother leaned toward him. “Aki… he didn’t mean any of that.”

Akira let out a small, final smile. His mind was made. From now on, he was no longer just a Sasaki. He would live his own life.

He walked out.

Himari caught up silently, sliding her hand into his. He paused at the doorway, taking a deep breath. One last glance at his father, who still refused to meet his eyes, and at Sato, who laughed with cruel satisfaction.

The exhibition continued behind him, brilliant and cold. But Akira stepped forward, determined to chase his own light.