Chapitre 3: Chapter 3

“Am I supposed to feel bad?” Mizu asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious puppy. “Our father is a piece of shit.”

I couldn’t argue with him there. Hiroto was a grade-A asshole, who only paid attention to his family when he was interested in inflicting emotional abuse. Case in point? My name. In Japanese, Kuro means “black,” and it also means “ninth son.” I can’t think of a name more fucked up than that, honestly. Only my father would name a child that purposefully calls attention to the fact that my mother had seven miscarriages between Mizu and me. Not to mention when I was finally born, Dad couldn’t even be happy about it. He could’ve named me “Jirou,” or second son. Hell, he could’ve named me something nice like “Takashi.” Nope. Instead I was “black.” Black, like the space where his heart should’ve been.