Himura Yoichi returned to his apartment after school and practice. But instead of immediately showering and flipping open his laptop to update his information database like he usually does, he dropped off his school bag, changed, grabbed his phone and left, heading for the train. The usual permanent smirk is absent, and the illegal fireman stashed away. Nothing was quite the 'usual' Hiruma. If it wasn't for his spiked hair, he would've been just another shadow on that particularly busy street that cloudy afternoon.
It was his mother's birthday, after all.
"Passengers heading for XX District please stay on train until the XX Stop. Take care of your personal belongings and have a pleasant voyage."
No one was on the train that day, only Hiruma's lone figure slouched on one of the seats. The creaks of the rails and the rumble of the furnace filled the silence.
"Brat, listen up."
She was a beautiful woman, with sharp features–slanted eyes, defined cheekbones, and a smile that cuts.
"What do you want, old hag?" He quipped back, earning himself a hard slap on the back of his head.
Although still a child, his features take after his mother, sharp ears, sharp nose, sharp eyes.
Where did you get that shitty attitude? Now listen, mom needs to tell you something important."
He set down his book.
That day was a day like today, a cloudy afternoon.
"You know, Yoichi, you ain't stupid. Mom knows this 'cause you're my son." She dropped down to her knees and ruffled 10-year-old Hiruma's black hair.
"Mom's leaving today, you know." The only shock that flashed on his face was the flick of the lollipop stick in his mouth.
"Only for a few days, don't look so alarmed." She laughed. Hiruma huffed in return, returning to his book. After a beat and Hiruma realizes that his mom haven't moved, he looks up again, the question in his eyes.
"...But mom wants to tell you that she loves you. So, so fucking much." Her eyes were hidden behind her hair. "No matter who you are, no matter who you'll become, you'll always be my son, Yoichi. You'll always be my son."
At that point Hiruma was confused. No, more scared than confused. He didn't know why his mom was saying this, why she looked so sad, her bony shoulders lightly trembling and her gentle hand raking through his hair.
"Mom?"
"Yoichi, I love you. Go conquer the world, okay? Go conquer the fucking world."
With that, she left. Hiruma had rushed to the window and watched her leave. She didn't take the car, and only had a small backpack. He watched the taxi slowly disappearing into the distance as his young mind frantically tried to comprehend what just happened. The more he thought about it, the more it hurt.
"Mom? Mom!" He ran out onto the street, screaming at the taxi that was so far away, too far away.
Two days passed. Then three. Then 2 weeks. Finally a letter was sent, dated 1 week ago, addressed to his father.
Dear Mr. Yuya Hiruma,
This is the XX Hospital and we've had a request from a patient here to send this letter. The patient, Sumiye Hiruma, was unable to survive the treatment for bone cancer and died 1 week ago. We are very sorry for your loss.
She had requested to send a letter informing her family 1 week after her operation. She was at an extremely late stage, which usually brings an enormous amount of pain. From her condition, it seems like she had no prior treatment of any kind.
We apologize for any rudeness, but our hospital was wondering what kind of condition was she if she was at home, and if she was under that much painful physical strain, why wasn't she treated earlier? We understand if this is a personal question and you are welcome to not reply. Again, we apologize for the rudeness.
XX Hospital
Hiruma couldn't believe it. Mom wasn't in pain at all. She looked completely fine this entire time! How could this be? How could this...
He suddenly recalls all the times Mom had stumbled in the kitchen, held something until her knuckles were bone white, and how she gritted her teeth while doing a menial task. She had masked her pain all along, hidden the immense burden of cancer. An impossible task, yet she did it. Their family was poor enough to not be able to afford the entire treatment for cancer. To save money, to stay with her family, to show no weakness even if it's her dying breath, she lived through the pain of the worst kind.
Hiruma had almost laughed then, what a clichéd story, he thought. What a fucking clichéd story. The only day that Hiruma Yoichi had shed tears was the day this letter came, one week after his mom's death.
"We've arrived at XX Stop. Please don't forget your belongings as you leave the train."
Getting off the train, Hiruma ignored the scenery around him, the cherry blossoms and their dancing petals, the cobblestoned streets with a menagerie of unique shops, the song of spring sang by songbirds. Nothing was more monochrome to Hiruma than that day. Walking for about 30 minutes, he reached a graveyard. After signing in and doing the procedures, he briskly walked through the cemetery, passing by silently sobbing families and wailing men and women. Her tombstone was located at the very edge of the cemetery, a simple slab of rock that says In remembrance of Sumiye Hiruma. Hiruma uttered no prayers to the heaven above, nor any words of sentiment and remembrance, only setting down his gifts and gazing at the tombstone, mutely communicating through it, recounting his new experiences and telling his stories. Smirking, he remembers, how ironic it is, that his mother who hated being confined, is now trapped beneath the Earth, when she had always said that she wanted her ashes scattered in the wind. His father had ignored it, and went the traditional way of cremation. He remembers. He remembers her daring smile, her dauntless laugh. The way she cradled his head and fed him medicine when he was sick, or the time when she yelled at him for attempting to runaway, with tears in her eyes. Finally, he remembers the last thing his mother had said to him. He repeats this, a faint echo of silent assistance.
"Go conquer the world, okay? Go conquer the fucking world."