I wasn't particularly angry or even annoyed with my kid sister's perfectly reasonable questions.
But with all the absolute shit I've been through in the last two to three goddamn days, I really can't fuckin' stand answering irrelevant, time-wastin' questions right now.
I took my previous seat against the wall, and Ayaka stayed watching over Genji for some minutes more, her brow furrowed with concern, before finally asking my permission to go to sleep herself.
She left Genji in my somewhat capable care as she retreated wearily into the other, even smaller room that served as their bedroom.
I sat there beside the now peacefully sleeping Genji, leaning the back of my head against the familiar, cold dampness of the wall, and closed my eyes.
I listened to him breathe, a steady, even rhythm now.
I listened to the distant, muffled noises comin' from the chaotic hood outside… and I listened to my own ragged, uneven breath.
Suddenly, I jolted violently awake.
I didn't even know the exact moment I'd finally slipped into unconsciousness, but that clearly was not the fuckin' case now.
My whole damn body was vibratin' rigorously, shakin' uncontrollably, like I was bein' literally torn apart from the inside by some kind of demonic possession.
A serious, overwhelming surge of raw, electricity-like energy was coursing to and fro, rampaging through my entire goddamn body.
It was intensely, unbelievably painful, but the worst fuckin' part of it was my head.
It felt like my skull was physically expanding, like it was jammin' up against the inside of my skull, tryin' to burst.
And then, just as suddenly, it felt like it was rapidly contracting, like someone was brutally squeezin' my brain in a vise.
My muscles felt like they were literally on fire one second, and then, the very next moment, they were freezin' cold, locked in ice.
This horrific, total discomfort extended with sickening speed to my tummy, my eyes, my chest, and my waist.
I felt both extreme, mind-bogglin' pain and a profoundly disturbin', weird new sensation that I have never, ever fuckin' felt before in my entire short existence.
My vision was painfully, uselessly blurry, a swimmin' kaleidoscope of distorted shapes and colors.
My ears were ringin' like someone was violently scrapin' a rough-edged piece of metal against a coarse, jagged ground surface, a deafening, grating shriek.
And all the while, I felt my body bending and contorting around like some goddamn maddened lunatic, even though I wasn't actually leavin' that one spot on the floor, or even rollin' around much.
I couldn't perceive my immediate environment clearly at all; everything was a chaotic, nightmarish blur.
This utterly fucked-up, terrifying situation lasted for many, many long, agonizing seconds, an eternity of torment, before I finally, blessedly, regained some measure of control over my own rebellious body again.
My eyes and ears slowly, gradually, returned to somethin' approaching normal.
I was now flat on my back, facin' the rotten, water-stained ceiling, and I was fuckin' drownin' in my own cold sweat.
Then, with a supreme effort of will, I managed to sit myself up, which made my still-aching arms and protesting back scream in renewed, albeit lesser, pain.
I reluctantly, cautiously, turned my head around to observe my immediate surroundings, half-expectin' to see somethin' monstrous.
I was now at the foot of the thin, ragged cloth Genji laid on; he, thankfully, sounded like he was still very much sound asleep, his breathin' deep and even.
I forced myself up onto my shaky legs, even if my whole damn body still screamed with a thousand points of sight, residual pain, and walked unsteadily to the backroom to see if my mother and that little shit Eiji were back yet.
I gently, carefully, opened the creakin' door (the door always fuckin' shrieked like a banshee, so it wasn't nearly as quiet as I'd hoped when I opened it).
Attemptin' to just peep cautiously through the narrowly opened door, my chin suddenly bumped hard into somethin' soft… or rather, someone, to be exact, as that person immediately cussed in muffled pain.
"Mom, is that you?" I asked, my voice still a bit hoarse.
The room beyond the door was pitch dark, and I could only vaguely make out someone's indistinct figure.
The person was short and clearly had a feminine statue; if I were to hazard a guess, it would most likely be my mother.
"…Ouch!, are you made of solid stone or somethin'?" she asked rhetorically, her voice a familiar mix of pain and exasperation.
"What are you doin' up, Mom? Is anythin' the matter?" I asked, concern briefly touchin' my voice.
"I heard some… some ruckus, a commotion, and someone moanin' loudly…" she responded, her voice laced with worry, as we both walked slowly back out into the main sittin' room (the larger room where Genji currently sleeps').
"It was nothin', Mom," I replied blankly, not wantin' to explain.
"No…no, I clearly heard somethin', my son. Maybe…" my mother still insisted, her brow furrowed.
I don't know what the hell is going on in her already overstressed mind right now, but I definitely do not have the energy, or the inclination, to indulge her anxious questions.
So, I replied softly, but with a cold, final edge to my tone, "Mother, it is nothin'…"
That sharp response seemed to temporarily mute her, but I knew it didn't stop the endless questions from still bubbling furiously up in her mind.
I could see all the unspoken questions, the deep-seated anxiety, the chronic stress, and the ever-present worry etched clearly in her tired eyes, but I just don't have fuckin' time for that emotional bullshit right now.
"Everything is ALRIGHT, mother," I said as calmly as I could manage, lookin' directly into her eyes as I said it, hopin' to seize her of at least some small measure of her worry, but her subsequent reaction surprised me a little.
She reached out and gently placed her worn, calloused right palm on my cheek.
I instinctively closed my eyes for a brief second as my mother tenderly touched my left cheek, usin' her thumb to softly, almost reverently, trace the outer area of my swollen, discolored black eye, which still fuckin' stung like a bitch.
I slowly reached up and held her right wrist, with the clear intention of gently removin' her hand from my face, but she stopped me by sayin' softly, her voice thick with emotion, "Please, Shitsubo… let me."
I hesitated, then stopped, and slowly pulled my own hand back.
"I..I know, or at least I see, that you always do your very best to provide for us…to try and protect us…" she said, her voice incredibly soft, almost a whisper, and then continued, her eyes glistenin', "I also see your pain, my boy, your deep, smolderin' rage, your growin' collection of scars, both inside and out, and all your personal demons. You have always tried so hard to cover them all up, to push through it all alone, but I… we… we see your constant work, and all your thankless efforts, and no matter what fuckin' terrible thing happens next - WE see you, son, and we truly appreciate you. It might not mean much in this... world, but it is, painfully, all we can truly afford to give you right now."
I looked deep into my mother's tired, sad eyes as she talked, her voice tremblin' slightly.
And for a moment, I saw my own reflection in there; not the superficial reflection of my battered face, but the raw, bleedin' reflection of my goddamn soul.
I wasn't the only one in this family completely filled with suffocatin' depression, gnawin' fear, soul-crushin' hopelessness, paralyzin' anxiety, constant dread, and bitter, impotent rage.
We all are.
My mother's own eyes were fuckin' soaked, drownin' in those exact same emotions.
The funny, or maybe just fuckin' tragic, thing is that these same emotional scars, this same look of weary despair, could be found in the eyes of almost everyone that lived and breathed in the shithole of Sumiyoshi.
It was the look in the eyes of the random people I see every day on the street, the hollow eyes of the people I sit with silently on the grimy train, the desperate eyes of the doomed Mercenary GuardsI see goin' into the Gates, the haunted eyes of my entire goddamn world.
Yet here my mother is, tryin' her best to comfort me, when she herself fights tooth and nail with the very same fuckin' demons every single day of her miserable life.
Which was, when you really thought about it, very fuckin' funny, in a bleak, twisted sort of way.
It is precisely at times like this, when confronted with such pointless sentiment, that I really, truly hated fuckin' everyone, includin' the very woman who is my own goddamn mother.
What's the actual fuckin' point of all their useless fuckin' pity, their pointless feelin's, or their worthless, empty thoughts?! It isn't worth a goddamn shit in the grand scheme of things!
…but I'm not my father. I won't be like him. So…
"I hear you too, mother," I reassured her, my voice softer than I intended, yet she somehow still was not relaxin' at all, her anxiety still palpable.
I've fuckin' tried. I'm fuckin' done with all this emotional crap for tonight. I'll just have to leave her to her own devices, let her stew in her own worries.
"Ok, mother, you can go back to sle– Wait!" I was just about to gently suggest to my mother that she should go back to sleep, when I suddenly realized that a certain little fucker wasn't fuckin' here.
"Where the hell is Eiji?" I asked my mother, my voice suddenly sharp.
Her immediate response was complete, tell-tale silence as she instantly averted her eyes from mine, refusin' to meet my gaze (so this is why she was layin' on all that sentimental, guilt-trippin' bullshit earlier).
"He isn't fuckin' home yet?" I asked again, somewhat rhetorically this time, with a definite, hard edge of controlled anger now clearly underneath my tone.
"My son… (she let out a long, weary sigh), you just have to try and understand Eiji," she said softly, almost pleadingly, as she used her left hand to nervously scratch at her already disheveled hair, and then continued, her voice weak, "He… he just doesn't know how to effectively bury his own demons like you do. This… this is just his way of relievin' some of his own pain."
She said all that, clearly tryin' to make me go easy on him, to be more understandin', when the little fucker finally decides to drag his worthless ass back home.
"You'll be scrapin' his guts off the fuckin' street one of these goddamn days.," I said coldly, bluntly.
"Don't…Don't you say that. Nothin' like that will happen to him… He is just…" she immediately tried to heatedly defend him, her voice crackin'.
"Not my fuckin' problem anymore…" I said blantly, cutting her off, as I made a dismissive gesture by stretchin' out my arm and pointin' my finger decisively towards the front door.
This sharp, unequivocal gesture made my mother close her eyes tightly and gasp, a small, wounded sound, before respondin' even more softly, her voice barely audible, "Your brother isn't…"
"He goes out there, onto those sick streets, every goddamn night, and you seriously think he won't eventually catch lead, or a shiv in the ribs, one of these fuckin' days? If you like, don't bother to talk some sense into him. It's your funeral, not mine," I said coldly, my voice devoid of any sympathy, intending to signal the absolute, final end of this pointless 'Eiji matter' discussion.
"Please, Mom, you can go back to sleep now. I sincerely, desperately need some serious shut-eye myself," I said then, and as if on cue, a deep, bone-weary yawn escaped me.
Mother retreated slowly, defeated, back into the other dark room, while I laid myself down carefully near Genji (who, remarkably, still slept soundly, like a fuckin' baby, oblivious to all the drama).
My mind, however, quickly, inevitably, took me back to my recent 'episode,' that terrifying, uncontrolled physical and mental event that had happened just a few minutes ago.
And it just made me hope, and silently fuckin' pray to any entity that might be listenin', that my already fragile mental state is not completely, irrevocably fallin' apart at the seams.
I closed my eyes tight and took one long, deliberate, deep breath, then another, forcefully tryin' to make myself fall asleep, to escape into oblivion.
I kept this up for several long, restless minutes, consciously controllin' my breathin', before I finally, mercifully, blacked out.