Akachi stood in the kitchen, his heart pounding as he faced his father. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the familiar ache of resentment bubbled to the surface. "You were never there for us," he blurted out, his voice shaky but filled with emotion. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as he struggled to hold back the flood of feelings. "When Meka and Mother were taken, where were you? You just... disappeared!"

His father's expression shifted, a mixture of pain and confusion crossing his face. Akachi could see the tears forming in his father's eyes, and it only fueled the fire inside him. "You think it's easy for me?" his father snapped back, his voice cracking under the weight of his own emotions. "I had my reasons for being away, Akachi! You have no idea what I was dealing with!"

Akachi felt his chest tighten, frustration boiling over. "What reason could possibly justify leaving us when we needed you the most?" he shouted, his voice echoing in the small room. "You were supposed to protect us! But instead, you were off somewhere, doing who knows what while Meka and Mother were in danger!"

The memories flooded back—images of that night, the chaos, the fear. Akachi's breath hitched as he recalled the helplessness he felt, the weight of responsibility that had fallen on his young shoulders. "Meka had to be the one to keep it together! Meka had to be the man of the house!" he cried, tears streaming down his face. "And you weren't there. You just left us."

His father’s face crumpled, the tears spilling over as he looked at his son. "I never wanted to leave you, Akachi. I thought I was doing what was best for the family. I thought I was protecting you," he said, his voice low and trembling. "I didn’t know... I didn’t know it would turn out like this."

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Akachi shook his head, the weight of his father's words feeling inadequate against the pain he carried. "You think that’s enough? You think just saying you had good intentions makes it okay? It doesn't! You weren't there when we needed you the most!"

As the silence hung between them, both of them were caught in a storm of emotions—anger, regret, and a desperate longing for connection. Akachi’s heart ached, torn between the love he still felt for his father and the deep-seated resentment that threatened to pull them apart.

Akachi stood in the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. His father shifted uneasily, avoiding Akachi's gaze as he gathered the courage to speak. "Akachi, we need to talk," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I won’t be back for a long time, and you’ll have to live with your grandmother."

The words hit Akachi like a punch to the gut. "What do you mean I have to live with her?" he shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief. "You can’t just drop that on me! You’re leaving me again? Just like before?" The rage boiled over, fueled by all the hurt and abandonment he had felt over the years.

His father’s face fell, the pain evident in his eyes. "I’m sorry, Akachi. Everything I do is for you. I thought you’d be safe there," he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone.

Akachi felt his heart race, the anger surging through him like a wildfire. "Safe? With her? You think that’s what I need? I need you! You’re my father, and you’re just running away again!" he screamed, each word laced with heartbreak. "You don’t care about me at all! You never did!"

Tears streamed down his father’s face as he turned away, the weight of his son’s words crushing him. "I’m sorry," he choked out, his voice trembling. "I wish things were different." And with that, he left the house, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in Akachi’s heart.

As the silence enveloped him, Akachi felt the walls closing in. The anger that had fueled him moments ago faded, leaving only the raw ache of abandonment. He sank to the floor, collapsing onto the couch, and buried his face in a pillow. The tears came in waves, each sob wracking his body as he let go of the pent-up emotion.

All the stress, the fear, and the loneliness he had been holding inside poured out, each cry a release of the pain he had been carrying. "Why does this always happen to me?" he cried into the fabric, feeling utterly alone in a world that seemed to turn its back on him. The weight of his problems felt unbearable, and in that moment, he was overwhelmed by the realization that he had to face everything without the support he so desperately needed.