I was a normal once. I swear I was, at one stage. Then I fell into a world of half brothers, rock stars, love novels and pink bunnies… To be perfectly honest my life was never typical. I grew up with only one parent. My mother was lovely. Sakoto Hishimoto was her name! She was my best friend, my role model and my hero all rolled into one 30-year-old package! Notice the word "was". It was six years ago when she died. It was the saddest day of my life. I cried all night until exhaustion took over and I fell asleep on the old sofa cushion near the window. I continued to cry for weeks afterwards. I think I still cry for her today.

She really was the best, my Mum. She raised me all by herself! After all, I was the product of drunken one-night-stand. Mum never heard from him again. And as if she'd want to! Mum found him two days latter and told him that she was pregnant, but he certainly didn't give a damn! Good! I always thought we were better off without him. I was never even told his name; only that he was already married and lived somewhere far off. I didn't want to know his name anyway. Cheating bastard.

Anyway, we were content as we were. Not wealthy. HA! Far from it! Actually we were dirt poor, but Mum always managed to scrape us through. She always managed to make something out of nothing. I remember that everything was repatched and reused. Old containers, ratty curtains, toys on the brink of death, you name it, it was recycled. Nothing, I repeat nothing was wasted and only tossed when it finally met its death day. To be honest our small apartment was full of crap! But in my young mind I thought it was a treasure trove!

Mum always managed to make….whatever it was she was fixing, look as good as new, if not better when she'd finished with it. And the apartment was always neat, arranged in a style unique to my mother. She was quite the individual. She was funny, beautiful and smart. My mother was my hero.

To have something like Cancer finally bring her down…. was unfathomable.

The lead up to it was horrible. Her organs were slowly fading away to nothing. She needed treatment, but refused it because we were too goddamn poor to afford it! I remember when I heard, I immediately took up a job. Whatever would take me on at only 10 years old. Eventually I got a job as an extra pair of hands in a local café, just sweeping floors and washing dishes really. I had hoped, in my naive 10 year old mind, to earn enough money to save Mum. It was short lived though. When Mum finally got so bad she couldn't work anymore, my little job was the only source of income (Oh! And some sort of sh*ty government hand outs that didn't help at all!).

I was absolutely terrified to go to work or school at that time. I was terrified that I would come home and my mother would not be breathing anymore. I was terrified that when I left, she would just fade away to nothing, and I wouldn't even get to say goodbye. At one stage I even asked her to try and contact that bastard of a father of mine. She scolded me for using the word "bastard" and then told me not to worry abut her. That was just Mum. Even in the toughest times she still had the strength to discipline me. She hugged me and said that she wouldn't even know where to start. That she didn't even know if he was alive. She was lying. I knew she was lying. I could see it in her eyes. I knew she had his phone number in one of our many books, even if it only was the one he'd given her on that faithful night of drunken pleasure nearly 10 years ago. So, when she fell asleep that night, I searched. I turned the entire house upside-down. I knew she was too exhausted to wake up, even if I made a hell of a lot of noise, so it was okay. The search was extremely difficult, especially since I was 10, I had small arms that didn't even reach over the third pantry shelf and I didn't even know his name. Finally, I came across a small black phone book the looked about 15 years old, in one of Mums drawers. It had only one thing written inside….Some thing that had been crossed out, repeatedly, in thick black marker –I think it had been his real name- and written under that….

"BASTARD

87 0789 9832"

This HAD to be it. I thought it was terribly ironic that mum would yell at me for referring to him as such when she had too. I practically ran to the phone, dialled the numbers and waited.

"The number you have reached is currently unavailable or has been disconnected. Please check the number and try again. The number you have reached has been disconn-"

I hung up.

I cried myself to sleep that night. That was my last hope! There was nothing else I could do. I couldn't resign myself to the fact the Mum was dying. She was still alive, right? She was just in the next room! Still sleeping, breathing, drinking, eating (maybe not as much, but still eating). She was still Mum! And she was still here! And I won't let her go! I ran into Mums room and promptly started crying all over her.

I hadn't cried until now, I had worn a strong face, so had she, but we both knew this day was coming. The day of acceptance and I HATED it. The days that followed were the happiest and saddest of my life. Sad because I knew what was to come and happy because it was only Mum and me doing anything and everything we could fit in. I even took days off school and quit my job after I realised it was hopeless. We went to the amusement park for the first time in my life (it was fabulous), the park to feed the ducks and use the paddle boats, the shopping centre for ice-cream, the ice-skating rink -though, by the time we got there Mum was too tired to try it with me, so she just watched me stumble and fall on the ice for 2 hours. She would always fret when I fell too hard, but I put on my best brave face. I had to show she didn't have to worry about me when she finally left me.

She had already worried so much, through all the bullying…. Oh! Did I mention I had naturally blond hair and green eyes? My mother always told me that it must come from my father, since she has black hair and brown eyes. That always pissed me off. I hated him! I didn't want to look like him! When I was a little I had long hair. So, as soon as I could, I cut all my hair off. It remains short to this day. Luckily I inherited my mother's looks so I could pull it off. My mother was beautiful. She had prominent cheek bones waist length wavy black hair smooth milky skin, sparkling eyes and a body that could kill even after she had me.

Anyway, I guess the kids in school bullied me because of my hair and eyes. It wasn't natural to have such hair in Japan. To have any sense of "normality" you had to have black hair and black eyes. I had neither. Therefore I was shunned. Kids can be cruel trust me. When I was 7, I was cornered by a bunch of boys from my class in a back ally. They pegged me with sticks and stones shouting things like "half cast" and "Bastard Child". Now contrary to the rhyme, sticks and stones do not break bones, they just f**king hurt. I still have a scare across my back where I was belted with a particularly nasty stick. Finally, I managed to knock one boy down and escape. I ran all the way home. But I didn't cry. That means they've won. Contrary to most 7 year olds I NEVER cried. I learnt young that it did nothing to help your situation. Mum was furious when she found out. She stormed into the school and reported it –quite loudly- to the principal, who stuttered back that the boys would be dealt with. The parents of the boys were called and told what happened and the boys were given a quite serious lot of detentions and a mark on their permanent record. I wasn't bothered by the same lot of kids again, but I was never really accepted in the primary schooling community.

However whenever something of this nature came up came up, I would always tell Mum. She had the best advice and would kindly help me through anything. That's what all mothers are meant to do, but my mother did it better.

Eventually, THAT day rolled around. By this time my mother, my one and only mother was hooked up to about a dozen different, beeping machines in a hospital room that smelt like bleach and disinfectant. To be perfectly honest, she looked bloody awful. And I hated seeing her like that. I was brushing her hair; she loved it when I brushed her hair. I think it soothed her. While I was working away some of the bigger knots in her now short hair, she started talking to me about what was going to happen from here on in.

"_,…We have to talk about this sometime…. Please understand that this isn't going to be easy."

I just looked at her strangely. I knew this wasn't easy. I was inevitably going to lose my mother.

"I have stated in my will that your godmother is Fumi, so you will be living with her, alright?."

Fumi Ishikawa and her husband Kato were both long running friends with my mother. In fact my Mother set them up together! They are both lovely people and personally, I wouldn't mind living with them at all, but they are both business people so I think I would be a hindrance. They owned a series of apartments for collage students. It's not really fabulous living but they keep it in order. I think I might ask to live in one of them. At least then, I'm out of their way.

I nodded rather slowly (trying to quench tears and a runny nose) to show that I understood and was ok with the idea.

"I also have left you a small sum in an account I didn't tell you about. I should be enough for you to live off for a while. And I have already applied for further funding from the government, but honey, don't put your faith in that too much. I have no huge debts for you to worry about. But Aunt Fumi will deal with those.

Apart form being here while you grow up, I have done everything I wanted, just by having you."

I started to cry. Why was she saying this now? A grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. I didn't want to let it go. I didn't want to let her go. I didn't know it then, but I'm certain she could feel her end coming.

"Mum…I love you" I smiled at her. We cried together like that for a long time.

That was mid-morning. By afternoon she had worked herself into a state of - Oh, How did the doctors put it?…. "Rapid Deterioration".

She had doctors running around the room shouting at people to give Mum different drugs and shots, machines beeping wildly. I got a bit lost in the chaos. One very intimidating, sturdy built doctor shuffled me out of the room and into the hallway and that's where I stayed for the better part of the evening. The hallway smelt uncomfortably strong of disinfectant, I had been sitting in the same spot for 2 hours, I hadn't eaten all day, I really needed to pee but I didn't dare move. It was almost as if moving would break some invisible shield or set off some invisible bomb to tick over and I would never she Mum again. I wanted time to freeze, rewind would be better….back to before when Mum wasn't dying. Some feeble doctors would occasionally come out of there 'hiding places' to attempt to comfort me but I wasn't really that responsive and they eventually dispersed to go deal with some other medical issue. Then the doors to Mothers room opened…

A small middle aged man dressed in pristine white medical attire emerged from the room looking ragged. I never saw this man again in my lifetime so how could I have guessed that he and the entire two words that he spoke to me could have such an impact on my life.

"I'm sorry"

Numb. That's the best way to describe it. I stayed there for a long time after. Just holding her hand. I didn't want to let it go, but eventually I had to.

6 years later and here I am!

Kazuki Hishimoto! Now 16! I live in one of Fumi's apartments. I asked to live alone at 11. They were against me living alone at such a young age, but I proved that I was more than capable. So, after a bit of convincing they let me. I attend the public High School, Kibiyashi High. I like art and drama, pretty average at maths (but not bad at it!) and am currently obsessed with America and I love learning different languages. Currently I can speak Japanese and English fluently and am working on German and French. Also, I am surprisingly good a sports. I have two best friends' named Yuui and Kai more on them later. I really don't know what I am going to do when I finish school, but I'm only in grade 11! Still have time… All in all, pretty normal…..

However my days as "Normal" were about to come to an end soon…Very soon….