Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Failed Confessions ❯ Deathbed ( Chapter 3 )

"Grandfather, it's time for dinner. I made your favorite, hatsuga genmai rice!"

 

Things had been going downhill for a while now, but Jun had forced himself to remain calm. He owed his best and only his best to the older man, and he would be doing all of the goodwill the Saboru Sogoruku had given him throughout his years, especially when he didn't deserve any of it. Guilt had ridden over Jun the first month that his grandfather had been labeled unable to take care of himself, much less Jun; thus so the charge had become the caretaker, and the caretaker became the charge. When this had happened, he'd worked vigorously to teach himself the cooking skills he had, go so long, and avoided learning. And, he had to say, he did a pretty darn good job of it - he wasn't the best cook on planet Earth, but it was certainly edible, and that was enough to get the reserved young man proud. He would have to show his girlfriend (despite the lengths Jun had once gone to avoid social and emotional attachment only a few years ago, the thought of having a companion such as Aiko made him inordinately cheerful) his newfound skills, and hope that they were up to par for her.

 

Lithe hands curled around the large brown tray he had brought along with him, and he frowned. "Grandfather? Are you awake? You know that you have to eat something with your medicine, or else you'll get sick..." The thought of needing to reprimand his grandfather nearly made Jun's heart break. He hated to think that the old man had gotten that bad off, and he was concerned that things would only go downhill - the family doctor had not appeared to be hopeful, and Jun had done everything within reach possible, no matter if that meant possibly comprimising his grades for school. His grandfather was certainly more important than any school grades! His hand still tightening around the tray as he approached the closed door, a distinct, tense feeling spread throughout his body. This was unusual. His grandfather normally had the television on, asleep or not, and it was a custom for him to be sure to be awake, whether or not he was tired or not. He knew enough to understand that his medication was very important, and...

 

"Grandfather? Please, your medicine's very important... Can I please come in...?" Nervous apprehension slid into his voice, no matter how much ill will he harbored against his fear. No... it simply couldn't be possible, his grandfather? Never. His slippered feet finally slowed to a stop in front of the pulled shogi door, blue eyes staring looked helplessly at the thin walls. He hesitated to knock - he feared he wasn't going to like what he saw beyond that door, but prayed that it would simply be dear old Sogoruku, sleeping soundly - but slowly forced himself to it, holding the food tray deftly with a single hand. "Please, grandfather, this isn't very funny... It's your favorite, you know, the stuff you asked me to make for you..."

 

He felt like he was begging. He needed his grandfather to be all right. It was Sogoruku that took Jun in when none of the other relatives would, and it was Sogoruku who had stuck through with Jun, despite the stark change in behavior after he had left Tokyo. It was Sogoruku who had calmly stood aside as his grandson worked to fiddle out his problems, and would give a kind word or two of encouragement at just the right time. It was Sogoruku that meant the world to Jun, because he'd virtually became his surrogate father after his parents' death. It was Sogoruku's Yuukito-kun that had died, and he understood what Jun was going through, trying to sort it all out.

 

If... if Sogoruku wasn't there anymore...

 

"Grandfather! Please! Just answer me! Anything!"

 

Deadly silence filled through his ears, and he thought he felt tears at the corners of his eyes. One-handedly, he forced the shogi door open. He distinctly remembered the clattering of the tray hitting the wooden floor, water spilling over the polished planks. Rice filtered into the cracks that connected the floor together, and the clanging of the chopsticks nearly felt like a metallic sound in his ears. Without warning, Jun dropped helplessly to his knees. He fancied that bile must have rose in his throat, but he couldn't open his mouth to release any of it - he was too scared, too afraid. Nothing like this should have happened. It just... Wasn't right... Wasn't fair...

 

Blood. At first, he'd thought that the old man might have killed himself to save himself the grief of an actual death. A short investigation before he fell to his knees told him, however, it looked like he must have thrown it up - internal injuries or something. His body was sprawled halfway over the futon he'd so adamantly clung to, had so said was better than any regular bed (as a result, Jun had never gone through the trouble of changing his futon for a more Westernized bed). Jun didn't have to touch him to know that he wasn't breathing any more.

 

His vision swam.

 

A hard thud resounded in the Saboru household, and the prowling cat jumped back into itself hiding place.

 

---

"Please, stop it! We have a son! We'll give you whatever you want, just please, we need to be able to take care of our son!"

 

She was looking at him. Motioning for him to leave. He stayed, however. Frozen and rooted in place, large brown eyes watched the American desperately cling to her Japanese husband, as if hoping that Yuukito would have something to do, something to say.

 

“My wife is right… we said we'll give you anything you want, isn't that good enough!”

 

Jun would never forget the way their blood splattered across their apartment floor.

---

 

"Saboru-kun... Can you hear me? You took a nasty fall there, though I don't blame you..."

 

"Nng..."

 

It felt hot, like he'd just ran through a marathon during gym. Someone was holding up - he guessed a neighbor had gotten curious about the fact that Jun hadn't left for groceries that evening, yet - by one arm, as if they were hoping that they wouldn't have to drag him very far. It was then that he vaguely registered that he was covered in sweat; well, he wasn't incredibly surprised at that one. He hadn't genuinely thought about that... day... for so long. Without warning, however, he forced himself out of the neighbor's grip (he vaguely registered him as Inada-san, an older man that ran a bookstore downtown but for whatever reasons lived in the same suburb as the Saboru family). Grandfather... had to take care of Grandfather; Grandfather was sick, he had to...

 

"Saboru-kun, please." Inada-san caught him by his upper arm before he could get any closer, and tears involuntarily fell around the rims of his eyes, because he knew what was going to be said. "I'm sorry. I went ahead and called some paramedics for you, so that they could clean... up this mess... for you."

 

Jun fell against the wall, sobbing silently.

 

When the paramedics came, it hadn't taken long for them to declare the old man dead. They had wanted to look into Jun's health because he looked like he must have been seriously ill - reaction to the death or not - but he'd refused their assistance, saying that he would be fine. It didn't really matter anymore, did it? If he was ill or not? He would simply have to take care of himself. He'd taught himself to live without his parents, and he'd have to teach himself a new trick all over again, survival just simply demanded he did just that... Custom had required them to remove the body, but no one cleaned up the mess. It was that night that Jun slid the door shut and locked it, knowing how long it might be before he could force himself to open it again.

 

He knew it was late, and he knew she probably wouldn't answer. Not this late at night. Despite all of this, he slid his hand around a slender looking phone, dialing a familiar number.

 

"Aiko, it's me..."