He's been gone for a whole day now.

Some of the others are coming over to help look for him.
I don't expect that he will survive for much longer. If he's still alive.

I can't find Akito!!!

I've looked everywhere...he's doing this to punish me, I just know it.

Akito, come home! You're going to die out there and it will be my fault. I'll never forgive myself. You'd like that, wouldn't you?

Good grief, what did I do to deserve this? I've made mistakes and I've tried to fix them. I'm not a good person, but I do try. And right now I am so stressed, it seems like some sort of payback for something I've done that fails to come to mind. I think my hair is falling out, I'm so worried. The servants are out there now, walking up and down the garden path, calling his name. I have a bad feeling about this. A really, really bad feeling...

Secrets are Meant to be Kept.

Shigure paid me a visit today.

At first I was actually glad to see him. Amazing, right? He smiled at me and slipped into my office without waiting to be invited. He sat down and lit a cigarette and sat there smoking it; asked me how my day had been, what I was doing for dinner tonight. I had nothing extraordinary to report--my world revolves around the fluctuation of Akito's temperature. I did not bother to remind him of this.

He knows already.

The conversation was dry but welcome. Until he glanced in the direction of Kana's photo. And then I felt the dread return and I asked him to leave. It was not planned, the dismissal. It came out sounding harsher than I meant it to--I do not blame Shigure for his absent conscience--he has always been that way, and I have loved him in spite of it.

He just smiled at me as he had when he came in. He left without being asked twice. But as he hovered in the doorway, he said over his shoulder without bothering to look at me, "I figured it out a long time ago."

And then he was gone.

I didn't mean for it to go this far. I am not an emotional man. I solve problems, rather than dwelling on what cannot be helped. I don't believe I should seek such an outlet. But desperation, perhaps, drives me to this.

That is what I tell myself when I'm trying to sleep at night.

So he doesn't have an enlarged prostate...

It turned out to be just another bladder infection. Why won't he go to the bathroom when he needs to? He says that he feels too sick and tired to get out of bed by himself...amazingly, that changes as soon as Shigure announces his presence. Or anyone, for that matter. If he's having visitors, he is suddenly miraculously well enough to sit up and talk--on most days.

I'm not saying that I think he fakes his illness. I've taken his temperature and observed the other symptoms often enough to know, he is genuinely sick. But I am convinced that many of his problems are mental, and that if he would only try, he could do more than he is allowing himself to do.

I shouldn't judge him. I'm not living his life. I'm just trying to make it better.

But sometimes I think he's only dying because he's killing himself.

And I feel that he's dragging me down with him.

I'm going to cry.

I love Akito.
I really, really do.
These words become a mantra inside my head as I sit at my desk, pen in hand, attempting to drown out the sounds of things shattering in the room next to me with words like, dysuria and benign prostatic hyperplasia.
It doesn't work.
I have a headache again. I need advil...

I'm out of advil.

I'm going to kill Akito.
I really, really am.

March 13th, Entry 1

I will probably never write in this thing. If I do, it's because Akito is driving me crazy and I need a way to vent without it getting back to him every word that I said.
Akito, I can't give you any more morphine without killing you...
Stop asking me!