Chapter 365: 365
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In another part of Tokyo, Kaito stepped into an unfamiliar museum. He did not wish to come to this kind of place because he was not a patron of the arts. He could not understand the value.
However, he was a little interested in the cousin he had not met. Based on his observation, he was his grandfather's favourite.
Of course, this could stem from the fact that the following generations of the main branch in the Takahashi family did not perform as his grandfather expected in terms of reproduction.
His grandfather and grandmother managed to bear three sons. There were also two daughters in that generation, so the old man was quite satisfied. Still, he was the classic type that favoured sons over daughters.
Unfortunately, this reproductive success did not work out for the next generation. His eldest son eliminated both the second and third sons.
Also, the following generation was not as good as he hoped.
The eldest son's son was a wastrel who could not grasp anything in school since he was a child. He was a typical second-generation child without a bright future. If he did not correct his current path, he would probably die at a young age.
The second one's son was Takahashi Kaito. He was presumed dead at a young age and only appeared after ȧduŀthood. Since he had grown outside, he had no basic interest in the family and would probably destroy it given a chance.
The third one's son was the most suitable successor in the Takahashi family. Unlike his male cousins, he had a good temperament, was smart and understood the importance of filial piety. It was inevitable that he would be the favourite.
Of course, there were daughters in the lineage. However, despite the tragedies surrounding him, Elder Takahashi did not change his pattern of favouring boys over girls.
The eldest one's daughters were particularly exceptional. They were forces to be reckoned with in the business world. As for the other granddaughter from the third son's line, she was too young. But her talents in the sciences could not be neglected.
As Kaito stepped into the art museum, he thought about this blood-related family. He did not have a good understanding of family since he did not have one growing up.
However, after looking at the photos and videos left by his parents, he felt an indescribable dėsɨrė. He dėsɨrėd that love they lavished on him when he was a toddler. He wanted to live a life with them and enjoy the bright future they planned for him.
All the holidays, birthdays and happiness they promised to that foolish toddler… He wanted them. He wanted his parents. He wanted everything. They were his, but he could not have them.
Therefore, he could only punish the person who took them away from him.
He walked around the gallery of calligraphy exhibition. He was not an artist by any measure, but he could detect the value of items. His teacher had always told him that the value of things he did not understand lay in how much they moved him.
At the time, he was not a teenager yet, but he came to understand the statement later on.
Art could not be explained easily to a layman.
But a good artist would be able to move the masses, even if they could not detect the precise reason they were attracted to the art. This counsel by his teacher had allowed him to develop a system to understand valuable, useless and even counterfeit art.
It was not a foolproof method, but he could detect authenticity in most situations.
"Sir, the competition is about to begin. Are you attending?" A woman approached Kaito as he stood before the bold word 'Surrender'.
Kaito was startled and turned the woman. "Yes. Thank you."
The woman had a smile as she showed Kaito into the calligraphy competition hall. She did not have hidden intentions towards Kaito. She just thought it was a pŀėȧsurė to deal with such a guest since their visitors were usually old men.
Kaito had an invitation from his grandfather, but there were no good seats in the competition hall. The presentation space was merely an auditorium with large screens. As for the seats, they were simple and hard chairs that kept one in pain and alert.
Kaito was uncomfortable, but he did not care too much about it.
It could not compare to that one time he had gone to the jungle in Congo to ȧssassinate a certain warlord who had triggered a war between two tribes just so that he could have a market for his machine gun stock. At that time, he was placed on an old ox cart with bananas.
And if there was one thing that Kaito could not bear in the world, it was bananas! From their smell to the texture and the general taste, they were abominable to him. They triggered his gag reflex on sight.
All in all, the seats in the museum hall were bad. But he did not mind it too much as long as he remembered the bananas.
After a short wait, his cousin appeared on the stage and on the screens.
The young man was called Takahashi Hajime. He was the oldest son of Kaito's youngest uncle. Hajime's father had died not too long ago after an illness that was suspected to be a result of poisoning. No one could prove anything, so the police were not engaged.
Hajime was a handsome young man, especially when he held the brush and faced the calligraphy paper. He had a certain eerie calmness that made him look older and more refined. Of course, he was not too young or too old at the age of twenty-three.
Kaito looked at the young man with interest as he worked the brush with concentration. He had investigated the young man, but nothing could compare to meeting the real deal. So, he watched him with slightly narrowed eyes.
Finally, Hajime turned his calligraphy work to the audience and the judges.
On the paper was a bold and flagrant word: retribution.
Kaito's lips turned up into a bloodthirsty smile.
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In another part of Tokyo, Kaito stepped into an unfamiliar museum. He did not wish to come to this kind of place because he was not a patron of the arts. He could not understand the value.
However, he was a little interested in the cousin he had not met. Based on his observation, he was his grandfather's favourite.
Of course, this could stem from the fact that the following generations of the main branch in the Takahashi family did not perform as his grandfather expected in terms of reproduction.
His grandfather and grandmother managed to bear three sons. There were also two daughters in that generation, so the old man was quite satisfied. Still, he was the classic type that favoured sons over daughters.
Unfortunately, this reproductive success did not work out for the next generation. His eldest son eliminated both the second and third sons.
Also, the following generation was not as good as he hoped.
The eldest son's son was a wastrel who could not grasp anything in school since he was a child. He was a typical second-generation child without a bright future. If he did not correct his current path, he would probably die at a young age.
The second one's son was Takahashi Kaito. He was presumed dead at a young age and only appeared after ȧduŀthood. Since he had grown outside, he had no basic interest in the family and would probably destroy it given a chance.
The third one's son was the most suitable successor in the Takahashi family. Unlike his male cousins, he had a good temperament, was smart and understood the importance of filial piety. It was inevitable that he would be the favourite.
Of course, there were daughters in the lineage. However, despite the tragedies surrounding him, Elder Takahashi did not change his pattern of favouring boys over girls.
The eldest one's daughters were particularly exceptional. They were forces to be reckoned with in the business world. As for the other granddaughter from the third son's line, she was too young. But her talents in the sciences could not be neglected.
As Kaito stepped into the art museum, he thought about this blood-related family. He did not have a good understanding of family since he did not have one growing up.
However, after looking at the photos and videos left by his parents, he felt an indescribable dėsɨrė. He dėsɨrėd that love they lavished on him when he was a toddler. He wanted to live a life with them and enjoy the bright future they planned for him.
All the holidays, birthdays and happiness they promised to that foolish toddler… He wanted them. He wanted his parents. He wanted everything. They were his, but he could not have them.
Therefore, he could only punish the person who took them away from him.
He walked around the gallery of calligraphy exhibition. He was not an artist by any measure, but he could detect the value of items. His teacher had always told him that the value of things he did not understand lay in how much they moved him.
At the time, he was not a teenager yet, but he came to understand the statement later on.
Art could not be explained easily to a layman.
But a good artist would be able to move the masses, even if they could not detect the precise reason they were attracted to the art. This counsel by his teacher had allowed him to develop a system to understand valuable, useless and even counterfeit art.
It was not a foolproof method, but he could detect authenticity in most situations.
"Sir, the competition is about to begin. Are you attending?" A woman approached Kaito as he stood before the bold word 'Surrender'.
Kaito was startled and turned the woman. "Yes. Thank you."
The woman had a smile as she showed Kaito into the calligraphy competition hall. She did not have hidden intentions towards Kaito. She just thought it was a pŀėȧsurė to deal with such a guest since their visitors were usually old men.
Kaito had an invitation from his grandfather, but there were no good seats in the competition hall. The presentation space was merely an auditorium with large screens. As for the seats, they were simple and hard chairs that kept one in pain and alert.
Kaito was uncomfortable, but he did not care too much about it.
It could not compare to that one time he had gone to the jungle in Congo to ȧssassinate a certain warlord who had triggered a war between two tribes just so that he could have a market for his machine gun stock. At that time, he was placed on an old ox cart with bananas.
And if there was one thing that Kaito could not bear in the world, it was bananas! From their smell to the texture and the general taste, they were abominable to him. They triggered his gag reflex on sight.
All in all, the seats in the museum hall were bad. But he did not mind it too much as long as he remembered the bananas.
After a short wait, his cousin appeared on the stage and on the screens.
The young man was called Takahashi Hajime. He was the oldest son of Kaito's youngest uncle. Hajime's father had died not too long ago after an illness that was suspected to be a result of poisoning. No one could prove anything, so the police were not engaged.
Hajime was a handsome young man, especially when he held the brush and faced the calligraphy paper. He had a certain eerie calmness that made him look older and more refined. Of course, he was not too young or too old at the age of twenty-three.
Kaito looked at the young man with interest as he worked the brush with concentration. He had investigated the young man, but nothing could compare to meeting the real deal. So, he watched him with slightly narrowed eyes.
Finally, Hajime turned his calligraphy work to the audience and the judges.
On the paper was a bold and flagrant word: retribution.
Kaito's lips turned up into a bloodthirsty smile.
In another part of Tokyo, Kaito stepped into an unfamiliar museum. He did not wish to come to this kind of place because he was not a patron of the arts. He could not understand the value. However, he was a little interested in the cousin he had not met. Based on his observation, he was his grandfather's favourite. Of course, this could stem from the fact that the following generations of the main branch in the Takahashi family did not perform as his grandfather expected in terms of reproduction. His grandfather and grandmother managed to bear three sons. There were also two daughters in that generation, so the old man was quite satisfied. Still, he was the classic type that favoured sons over daughters. Unfortunately, this reproductive success did not work out for the next generation. His eldest son eliminated both the second and third sons. Also, the following generation was not as good as he hoped. The eldest son's son was a wastrel who could not grasp anything in school since he was a child. He was a typical second-generation child without a bright future. If he did not correct his current path, he would probably die at a young age. The second one's son was Takahashi Kaito. He was presumed dead at a young age and only appeared after duthood. Since he had grown outside, he had no basic interest in the family and would probably destroy it given a chance. The third one's son was the most suitable successor in the Takahashi family. Unlike his male cousins, he had a good temperament, was smart and understood the importance of filial piety. It was inevitable that he would be the favourite. Of course, there were daughters in the lineage. However, despite the tragedies surrounding him, Elder Takahashi did not change his pattern of favouring boys over girls. The eldest one's daughters were particularly exceptional. They were forces to be reckoned with in the business world. As for the other granddaughter from the third son's line, she was too young. But her talents in the sciences could not be neglected. As Kaito stepped into the art museum, he thought about this blood-related family. He did not have a good understanding of family since he did not have one growing up. However, after looking at the photos and videos left by his parents, he felt an indescribable dsr. He dsrd that love they lavished on him when he was a toddler. He wanted to live a life with them and enjoy the bright future they planned for him. All the holidays, birthdays and happiness they promised to that foolish toddler He wanted them. He wanted his parents. He wanted everything. They were his, but he could not have them. Therefore, he could only punish the person who took them away from him. He walked around the gallery of calligraphy exhibition. He was not an artist by any measure, but he could detect the value of items. His teacher had always told him that the value of things he did not understand lay in how much they moved him. At the time, he was not a teenager yet, but he came to understand the statement later on. Art could not be explained easily to a layman. But a good artist would be able to move the masses, even if they could not detect the precise reason they were attracted to the art. This counsel by his teacher had allowed him to develop a system to understand valuable, useless and even counterfeit art. It was not a foolproof method, but he could detect authenticity in most situations. "Sir, the competition is about to begin. Are you attending?" A woman approached Kaito as he stood before the bold word 'Surrender'. Kaito was startled and turned the woman. "Yes. Thank you." The woman had a smile as she showed Kaito into the calligraphy competition hall. She did not have hidden intentions towards Kaito. She just thought it was a psur to deal with such a guest since their visitors were usually old men. Kaito had an invitation from his grandfather, but there were no good seats in the competition hall. The presentation space was merely an auditorium with large screens. As for the seats, they were simple and hard chairs that kept one in pain and alert. Kaito was uncomfortable, but he did not care too much about it. It could not compare to that one time he had gone to the jungle in Congo to ssassinate a certain warlord who had triggered a war between two tribes just so that he could have a market for his machine gun stock. At that time, he was placed on an old ox cart with bananas. And if there was one thing that Kaito could not bear in the world, it was bananas! From their smell to the texture and the general taste, they were abominable to him. They triggered his gag reflex on sight. All in all, the seats in the museum hall were bad. But he did not mind it too much as long as he remembered the bananas. After a short wait, his cousin appeared on the stage and on the screens. The young man was called Takahashi Hajime. He was the oldest son of Kaito's youngest uncle. Hajime's father had died not too long ago after an illness that was suspected to be a result of poisoning. No one could prove anything, so the police were not engaged. Hajime was a handsome young man, especially when he held the brush and faced the calligraphy paper. He had a certain eerie calmness that made him look older and more refined. Of course, he was not too young or too old at the age of twenty-three. Kaito looked at the young man with interest as he worked the brush with concentration. He had investigated the young man, but nothing could compare to meeting the real deal. So, he watched him with slightly narrowed eyes. Finally, Hajime turned his calligraphy work to the audience and the judges. On the paper was a bold and flagrant word: retribution. Kaito's lips turned up into a bloodthirsty smile.
