Title: The Storm of Fate
Rating: K+ (for safety)
Disclaimer: All characters and rights of the Junjou Romantica world belong to Shungiku Nakamura and her publishers Blu. This fanfiction is written with no intention of earning any profit. It is for the sole purpose of free enjoyment for the junjou romantica fangirls and boys
The Storm of Fate
Running his fingers through the thick black locks of hair, Usami Fuyuhiko, knew it had been love at first sight. Large dark blue eyes watched him curiously as he memorized the face of the child he was forbidden to cherish. These precious moments would be his only chance to hold his most beloved son. Holding the infant close to his chest, the tiny head of soft, sweet smelling hair resting on the heavy material of his suit.
The softness of his son's cheek resting against his shoulder broke Fuyuhiko's heart. The tiny baby in his arms represented the fulfillment of eight months of secret longing. Weighted in this tiny body was the future happiness of a man who had known too little of it in his own life. For thirty-two years, he had lived a life for the sake of duty, honour and family, never once questioning his elders for the destiny that had been designed for him. If not, for the warmth and softness of this child and his mother, his heart would have remained untouchable. Locked against such joys of simple love and comfort.
She had wanted to name him Hoshiko, for he would be her little star child. Fuyuhiko could remember the face at her discovery. His previous mistresses would have flinched in horror at the thought of a child; it was the reason he had sort them out. She had been different from the start, but she had touched his heart like no other. Meeting her had been the work of fate, he now acknowledged.
Forced to sit in economy class due to a royal official booking out all of first and business class on his flight from Heathrow to Singapore, and the pressing need for him to be in Japan, twenty four hours from then. Fuyuhiko had been placed next to a young graduate, in seat beside the window. She had ignored him as he sat down, only venturing into conversation once the plane had taken off. Her Japanese had been rough, but once she started talking he found himself drawn in. Her dark blue eyes sparkled as she spoke of her excitement at exploring the world.
He had felt jealous of her freedom; at twenty-four years old he had been already working at his father's company for two years, involved and his first child on the way. The ten hours of the flight passed swiftly. When disembarking the aircraft, he felt a surge of dread at the thought he would never see this random stranger again. He did not even know her name. Outside the gate, she given him an unexpected kiss on the cheek, and disappeared into the crowd with ironic anime style wink.
Stunned, he stood there a moment staring at the space she had been. His aid found him still rooted to the same spot moments later. The schedule was tight before his connecting flight to Japan; his aid rabbited on next to him as he strolled through the airport, his mind focused on other thoughts than his business engagements. What made him stop and turn; Fuyuhiko never really understood. But he did. Like a madman, he ran dropping his coat and briefcase at the feet off his aid, as he rushed to the flight departure boards. Ghostly echoes their conversation ran through his mind.
"I'm catching a connection to Auckland."
He stopped in the middle of the crowded hall, scanning the hoard of departure flights before him. Glancing sideways, he saw her. She was stood clutching her suitcase staring up at the boards, unaware of his gaze. Straightening himself up, he crossed the space between them with long flowing strides. As if the fates were the perfect scriptwriters, she turned the moment he reached her side. Their eyes met in that perfect moment. Reaching forward, he took her suitcase from her hand.
"That is the wrong flight for you."
"Erm… No I think that's the right one," she said a little confused. "See flight QQ456 to Auckland."
"No." He said grasping her hand. "Your destiny is on a flight this way."
She laughed at his words. Later in the privacy of his Tokyo penthouse, she told him that moment had been the corniest moment of her life. She had felt like the heroine in a romance novel. However, she admitted too that in that moment she had felt that if she had shaken off his hand that she would have always regretted it. Her name was Eriskay Torren; but he had nicknamed her Eriko, as he struggled to sound out the Celtic phonics of her first-name. In their swift romance, Fuyuhiko realised that he fell in love with her on that first day. Her character and heart made every moment spent with her special. She rained down love, warmth and bliss on his cold, hard world. If he ever lost her, he knew his world would shatter. That night, he told her he was married with two sons, she cried in his arms. Together their hearts broke for a future denied to them.
But she never left.
Perhaps it was nativity on her part, or maybe the foolishness of love that made her accept the situation. She had tenderly kissed him after he returned from a business trip to Osaka, when he expected to find her gone after fleeing as she slept out of fear the cold morning light of winter would steal her away. The touch of her warm lips and reassured all his jittery fears and doubts; her heart belong to him and he was the other half of her soul. Any sacrifice was worth making if she had but the opportunity to share her life with him.
The news of her pregnancy a year and an half into their affair had jolted his world; although, the news was at first unwelcome, he found himself pondering the possibilities of a child with Eriko. Her joy at the news had been infectious alternative to the bitterness of his other reality. At the time, his wife had been shunning him from her life and taken their child to England to stay with her family as their pathetic shamble of a relationship continued to decline. His wife knew he had a mistress somewhere; she blamed that for the decline of their marriage. He did not care.
Life had been reborn for him. Instead of living in the world of wealth and limitations, he came to dwell in what he presumed was a taste of the ordinary. He purchased an apartment with space for a family in a location near to good school and facilities for infants. He was in involved in deciding colours for the nursery as well as decorating the room, having a paint fight and making love with such tenderness that he overwhelmed him. He had learnt to use a screwdriver as they assembled the cot were their child would sleep. He knew the satisfaction of involvement in preparing for their child's arrival. He found out the joys of having a baby for the first time; he found himself guiltily acknowledging that fact he would love this child more than his sons.
When he told of his regretful feelings, Eriko had sadly smiled.
"It is never too late to change those relationships, Fuyuhiko." Eriko said, "You can love your sons as much as you love our baby. Some people think love for child comes instantly at birth, but how can you love a child you have no bond with. I promise, you will find the way to love them through the experiences of loving ours."
The simple joys that he had been denied with his wives in bonding with his sons had generated his lack of feeling towards his sons. Eriko's wisdom made him desire a better future for all his family. He dreamt at night of a different life, Eriko, his lovely and beloved wife who took care of their family. Her loving nature allowed her to love all his children. There were days of laughter and love in his dreams that had never existed in his cold world before. However, they were just dreams. His father would never allow a Usami to marry a common foreigner. Both his wives had been arranged marriages for the blessings of status and connections. Each marriage had resulted in unhappy outcomes.
His first wife had died so young before they had chance to know each other. He had been unhappy with the arranged marriage, but done his duty and found solace with having mistresses and ignoring his young bride save for the production of an heir. An heir she failed to dutiful produce; however his mistress proved more fruitful.. Loneliness and low spirits had broken her in the end the doctors told him she had been a fragile creature in the beginning. The birth of his mistress' son had in the end brought on her early demise.
The regret had lingered on in his soul. He knew that he should have made the time to become familiar with his wife instant of ignoring her save for necessary engagements for appearance sake. All too quickly, he had found himself agreeing to a second marriage determined to provide his son with a decent mother and not to repeat the same mistakes again. Sadly, he had made all new ones. The woman had been a viper in kimono. Her poisonous nature concealed behind calm violet eyes and a sweet façade. She had immediately rejected his elder son, exiling the boy to a boarding school and set in motion her own schemes for the future.
The heir born of their union was willful and determined. He was the perfect mix of his parents, gifted with his mother's beauty and enduring personality but possessive of his father's brilliance and mindset. Unfortunately, it did not endear him to either parent, creating a resentful child devoid of emotion, longing inwardly for the loving families that he found in storybooks and witnessed other children having. If it not been for the events that followed, young Akihiko's longings may have been granted.
Joy, Fuyuhiko discovered was a fleeting thing. The bubble of love can pop in the blink of an eye. Her warm, loving radiance had been beside him only to be snatched away in the moment he closed his eyes. The doctors told him it had been the result of an unknown heart condition that had caused complication after the birth of his third son. The western saying was third time lucky. Fuyuhiko would always disagree in the Usami family, it was third time cursed.
A knock on the door startled him.
Shyly, his secretary, Kenta Miki stood in the doorway. Her eyes sorrowful and a little teary; she crossed the room silently to stand before him. Gently, she brushed a hand through the dark hair of the sleeping infant. She was the only other person who knew of this child's existence. She was a good woman, who had been at his side for nearly a decade and a half. She was clearly devoted to her work and boss alike.
She had disapproved of his lifestyle from her computer desk, when he dated the beauties of high society and paraded about without a care. The only affair, Miki had tolerated or approved of was with Eriko. The women had shared a good bond of friendship; Miki would have been his son's godmother, if fate had been kinder.
"He looks just like you," she murmured. "But so like her; soft and lovely. This fate is too cruel for him. I only pray that life will be kinder for him in the future."
"Trust me, Miki-chan, I wish things could be different," he whispered holding his son warmth closer.
"I know sir," Miki said, her emotions plainly written on her young face. Finally, withdrew her hand and collected herself, before continuing. "They'll be here for him soon."
Fuyuhiko could only nod in response.
Inside his heart, he was sinking into a darkness that he feared he could not escape. His heart raged a war of rebellion against the cruel acceptance of duty of his mind. It was impossible for him to keep this love child within his family; his father had made it very clear in their last confrontation. The day he lost Eriko, Fuyuhiko had approached his father to grant him on boon in exchange he would do anything. The response had been cruelest blow of the course of events.
"I will not allow you to ruin the Usami name, Fuyuhiko!" His father had bitten. "You will not unravel all that we have built up for the selfish desire to keep your illegitimate bastard!"
All argument had ceased then.
The Usami elder had grimaced as he sat behind his long imposing desk studying the broken form of Fuyuhiko. The silence that followed was unbearable, but he longed every second since that that silence had lasted in place of the torture that was issued in its place.
"Please understand, son." His father said solemnly. "What I do now is with your best interests at heart, I will allow you one week with your new son. A week from the day, he is release from the hospital, which my sources say will be tomorrow. So next Friday at closing business time, you will bring the child here to these offices. Arrangement will have been made for him; as of that time, he will no longer be of any concern to you."
"Furthermore, you will not contact that girl's family about any of this." The older man instructed.
At precisely, five o'clock that Friday evening, Usami Fuyuhiko put his youngest son down to sleep in his basinet for the final time. He ran his hand through his son's black hair one last time as tears, he was unable to hold back, ran down his face. The mood of the entire office was sober as a stranger in a charcoal grey suit collected the basinet and promptly left. Leaving a distraught father broke on the floor surrounded by his father's security team in place to restrain him if necessary.
The driving rain and howling winds of the typhoon whipped around the orphanage amidst the raging storm; it was a night that no sane man would venture out into. Cocooned from the harsh weather, the residents of the home had come to sleep in the chief matron's office, which was the designated safe room during such weather events. Some of the younger children shivered and trembled in fear, clinging to the old residents for comfort and protection. It was the worst storm on record for twenty years the media updates were declaring. For five hours of the night, the storm harried overhead of the orphanage, until breaking in the first light of day.
Two of the staff, ventured out to review the prospective damage from the night's storm. Upon opening the front door, both women received the shock of a lifetime. Left on the steps of the building was a small basinet. The reaction of the elder of the women was swift; barking an order to colleague to call for assistance, she raced to open the basinet to reveal a tiny, new-born baby drenched from the rain and barely conscious. Late it would be heralded a miracle that the infant clearly no more than a week old had survived being abandoned during the worst storm for twenty years. Despite the wide publicity the news story received, the infant's parents were never located. After a month, hope faded of ever uncovering the tale of the storm baby, as the baby became known as in the media. In the hospital, it was this nickname that inspired the nurses to name their charge, Nowaki.