worlds away

[Brandon Blaylock]

In the present, somewhere across the Pacific on the island nation of Japan, a young man steps off the boat that brought him here. The rain is heavy and it soaks through the thin coat he brought with him, and presses down the natural spike to his short dark hair. His dark blue eyes are usually always narrowed now, perhaps an effort to hide his soul from onlookers trying to gauge him. Brandon Blaylock travels through two worlds: his mother's Japanese heritage blended beautifully with the Western ways of his father. As he walks, his thoughts are numbed. He had been thinking too much these past weeks, which have turned into months and now seem unending. The people around him speak in the language his mother speaks to him. They are busy with normal things, inane things, placid things. They would never notice the boy as he blends into the heavy crowds. They would never notice the weaponry on his person. They would never notice that look in his eyes as it was when he finally looked up with both eyes wide. That look is a dead one.

In the past, somewhere across the Pacific Ocean, a young man stands on the docks near the San Francisco Bay. He's holding a group picture, but its the picture of a girl with dark brown hair and matching eyes that stands out. There are others in the picture. They are people he recognizes, but people who would no longer recognize who Brandon was if they saw him now. Brandon had the same looks, but a different soul inside of him, scarred with the sins he had committed. He takes a red Bic lighter out of his pocket and sparks the flame close to the edge of the picture. It burns quickly, as he had simply printed it out on normal legal paper. He watches it burn until it reaches his fingertips. He watches her image disappear and deep inside he hopes that her image disappears from his soul. He does not want something that he longed and loved attached to something so twisted. Danielle would be ashamed.

"Come home Brandon." a voice husked behind him. Brandon didn't turn around, as the familiar scent of his father's brand of cigarettes wafted towards him in the low winds. The command didn't sound very convincing coming from Sean Blaylock's voice. Brandon had turned 18 over the past few months and there was no forcing him home. Brandon let out a subtle laugh under the weight of his chest before he turned around to look his father in the eye.

"Sorry, no." He said with a smirk, shrugging his shoulders casually, attempting to channel some of his boyish charm from the past. Brandon's tone was not very convincing either.

"At the very least then, stay away from that girl."

That girl, being Mariella.

"She's harmless." Brandon said, pulling out a menthol from his pocket and lighting it up. He wasn't even sure what he just said was true.

"Her mother is going to using her through you to get to me."

"It's all about you then?" Brandon said with a disrespectful laugh.

"Don't kid yourself." Sean said, flicking away his cigarette. "You know who I am, you know what I do, who my enemies are. They will use my children. They will use you."

"I could be an idiot and deny that, but I don't." Brandon paused, looking across the bay as he let go of some smoke. "This conversation is pointless. I'm not you. I don't care if she's using me. Maybe I'm using her. Thing is, she was around regardless of myself going left turn on everyone. She didn't push me away, or go mentally a.w.o.l on my ass. Not my fault you fucked her mom over."

Sean's jaw tightened. He turned around, his look placid but his eyes somewhat raged, a hint of light flickering from the lampost above.

"I'm going to Japan." Brandon said, flicking away his cigarette. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked past his father.

And that was the last Brandon saw of his father.

[Brandon Blaylock others]

Sean Blaylock sat pensively at the desk at his home office, twisting a pen in his right hand while the other cradled a cup of coffee that had gone cold hours before. The younger boys came and went from the office as they pleased, hugging their father's leg with worried looks. Sean would smile, ruffle their dark hair and then give them a small pat on the back for reassurance. Despite being young, the boys knew better.It would prove difficult to accept his oldest children for the way they handled their grief. To become like himself; like their mother. These were not lives they wanted for their children. At the very least, it was not the life that Sean wanted for his children. He kept an intense eye on Mia and the oldest twins, scoulding them at any attempt to learn anything past self-defense. If he would have to clash with Keiko on this subject, he would. He had enough of the renegade behaviours, the loss of innocence and the loss of life.

Mia Blaylock put on a smile, one that wavered away from home but stayed stiff on her lips when she did spend what little time she did at home. She poured herself into her studies during the day, and at night she would break loose and sneak to dormatory parties with Yuki. The girl would never get drunk, nor would she smoke. She simply numbed herself dancing and flirting with the boys of who she knew here would never dare attempt to ask for anything more than that. It felt like living life half tilt.

Rose Lynde and Mia held a small, but shakey alliance when it came to Brandon. Rose would pass along coded notes to Mia as they passed in the hallways with e-mails Brandon would send and in which he spoke of what little he did speak of. She would curl into her bed with the lamp dimmed to read the self-taught language to herself.

"Japan..." she muttered one night, looking towards the half opened window her bed lay next to.

The rain fell in sheets as the waves crashed against the piers where Brandon walked. The small houseboats clanked against the docks, with tiny lights flickering on and off inside as those who lived there attempted to keep hope. A young woman ran by with a thin blue raincoat, holding a sack of groceries. They locked eyes for a moment, and in hers he saw something similar to Mariella's in the deepness of color. They weren't hers however, and Brandon suddenly felt alone. He had asked her to let him come here for the trip on his own, though he had told her nearly every detail of his arrival and where he would stay. The conversation with his father had not shaken him to her, but rather, had left Brandon with a bitter taste in his mouth and not very good company. Bolder still, he had leaned in to kiss her before he left her that morning.

Now he regretted leaving on his own.
He wondered if what he was feeling towards Mariella was something close to love.

Brandon stopped for a moment to look across the dark and empty Pacific. His thoughts were interuppted however when his eyebrow perked and a thin blade pressed up against where his kidney should be but did not break the skin. A cascade of wet blond hair came to view as he turned his head slightly without much worry to his face.

"I need a favor." a soft voice spoke, sliding the blade across his jacket and then turning around to face Brandon head on. The woman Brandon only knew as Scarlett stood in front of him in a dark trench, her black makeup bold and surprisingly not streaking down her face.

"It's why I came." Brandon said, shoving his hands into his pockets for a smoke, but then looked annoyed as he realized they were soaked as well.

Hours later, his things were strung along anything that he could hang his clothes on in the hotel room he had rented. Alone, he looked through the contents of a jump drive off of a borrowed lap top. Alone, he soon broke the jump drive and the borrowed lap top, passing it back to the concierge along with a few thousand American. He layed down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling fan with narrowed eyes and his hand behind his head.

He was in this so deep, he could feel his chest becoming heavy and nearly choked under the thought of what he was going to continue to have to do.