He asked again, "Who's it from?" but the nine-year old boy said nothing, only crumpling the paper in his hands. "Kisame, what are you doing?" He wasn't the kind of man to raise his voice, he expected to be heard no matter how quietly he spoke, but Mr. Hoshigaki began to shriek after taking the letter from his son. "What the Hell?" he asked, waving his free hand in the air, "Kisame were you just going to throw this away?" "What's wrong with you!" he screamed, tears running down his face, "It's from" he choked out a sob, "It's from your mother."

Kisame looked up, his pale white eyes giving nothing away, "So?"

Mr. Hoshigaki forced himself to breathe, thinking, He was six, only six. "Kisame" he said in a calmer tone, "Do you remember the bomb shelters?"

"Yes."

""What about the ration slips?"

"Yeah Dad, I remember." Kisame said with a turn of his head. "The smelly sleeping bags, the sirens, the lights going out, the dust—"

"Okay Smart Shark" Mr. Hoshigaki cut in before the boy could list more things off his fingers, "Do you remember Mom going to talk to Kakuzu's family?"

Kisame scuffed his sneaker against the wooden kitchen floor, "She said she'd be right back."

He nodded, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, "Yeah and then the roof caved in—"

"She lied!" Kisame shoved his father's hand away and glared up at him, "She said she would be right back." He took a shaky breath, his voice cracking, "She hugged me, and promised! Promised she'd come back in a minute!"

"Kisa" Mr. Hoshigaki said, trying to keep his voice soft, holding both his hands out in front of him, "She was sent to one of the hospitals, and she might have been there for a while, getting better."

"We could've helped her!" Kisame shot back, "You could've" tears filled the edges of his eyes, but the little boy swallowed hard, keeping them from falling. "You could've bought real good doctors."

"That's true" Mr. Hoshigaki said, hyper conscious of his own wet cheeks as his son continued to speak, dry-eyed.

"I could have kept her company." He hugged himself, fingers knotting themselves together. "Brushed her hair and gotten her food." He glanced up toward his father, with a hopeful sort of look, "Done her makeup. She always liked that."

"That's what the nurses are for." "And" Mr. Hoshigaki said laughing a little, "You don't wear makeup in the hospital Kisa."

Kisame stamped his foot, "Whatever! I just, I just could've been there." He reached out and snatched the letter from his father, holding it up to the light, "But she has her new friend." His father flinched when he heard the disgust in Kisame's words, the way he ground his teeth at the end of every sentence. "And she's been with him for years. She says she wrote us because she saw I won that swimming competition. Not because she missed us!"

"We don't know—"

"If she still loved us she would've come home!"

Mr. Hoshigaki felt a stab of fear in his chest then, in that place where he kept all his memories of his wife: her persimmon-scented lotion, her hand fitting into his, the way she jangled car keys, and the way she aways got the truth out of him. "We can't jump to conclusions." he said, swallowing hard.

Kisame's face was still screwed up tight, the set of his tiny jaw, hard and unmoving. "She said she'd be back in a minute." The little boy threw the letter to the floor, and was about to step on it but, Mr. Hoshigaki grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Kisame struggled, the muscles flexing underneath his purple shirt, "When she was dead she couldn't help it" his voice wasn't so loud, and he wasn't trying to yank his arm away, so Mr. Hoshigaki loosened his grip, bending down to pick up the paper, ready to have a long talk. "But" Kisame spat out, "she's alive. That makes her a liar." Before Mr. Hoshigaki could react Kisame had turned around and run out the door, pausing only to scream, "I liked her better when she was dead!"

Kisame didn't see the pine branches or the cobwebs caught in their needles as he ran, all he could see was his mother. He still managed to jump over rocks, and duck under the fallen oak tree that leaned over the path, but when he tried to look for the onion patch he'd found last year with Kakuzu, the moss-covered boulder that looked like a huge piece of broccoli, or even the pond he was running toward he just saw her swaying black braids bound with pink and yellow beads.

He only realized he was at the pond when he stepped in it, cool water drenching his sneakers. He bent down, breaths coming fast, and yanked his shoes off, throwing them to the bank, before completely submerging himself. He floated down to the sandy bottom, watching as the tiny crabs and minnows swam away. I'm underwater, he thought, wrapping his arms around himself, I can't hear anything. When he had to swim up for air, which didn't happen very often, because he was "Amazingly Fantastic" at holding his breath, he only stuck his nose and mouth above the surface, so he could keep out all the awful noise.

He ran his fingers through his black hair, pulling at the strands in frustration, I hate her, he thought, She left me, his chest started to feel tight, She didn't even say sorry. Finally, he coughed and a burst of air bubbles sparked and glimmered as they drifted around his head. He watched as a minnow sped toward a bubble, probably thinking it was food, and then slowly went away, little tail barely twisting.

I don't want to be like that fish. He could taste the crab cakes his Mom made that he was too little to like when she was around.They didn't taste so good anymore as he thought about all the times she must have made them for that man.

I don't want to be sad. He saw Sharky, his favorite toy, being lowered into the casket they'd had no body to put in.

I don't care if Dad wants to see her, I won't. He heard the out of tune way she'd sing Happy Birthday while carrying in a blue cake.

She didn't need to take three years. He felt the heat of the summer sun from all those days she'd sit by the pool, painting her nails, and gave him encouragement as he flailed in his floaties.

If she loved me she would've come back. He felt the little fish swirling around his hips as he pressed his fists to his eyes, thinking, She didn't even learn how to swim with me.

He started to laugh as he went toward the surface, pulling in big lungfuls of air as he giggled, "If" he said between laughs, "If she comes to see me swim, I'll throw her in the deep end!"