Edited and reposted 1/18/17
Delusions of a Visionary
Part One: Ignore You
Chapter One: It was the Rocks
The ground underneath my feet is weird and bumpy, packed tight with what look like rocks and more rocks, side by side. I want to touch one. I bend down, fingers almost to the… rocks? They have to be rocks. They look like rocks, and Momma said the other rocks were rocks, and if these rocks look like the other rocks, then they're rocks, too.
I'm jerked upright, my head heavy for a second, too slow to keep up with the hand that Momma is holding real tight. I look up at her (up and up), and she's making the frowny face (that's what it's called when you do the opposite of the smiley face), "Never stop in the middle of the road, Miyo. Keep up with me."
Always do what Momma says.
I nod at Momma, and we continue. She's bigger, so she steps bigger, but I step faster, so it should be okay. I hold onto her hand tighter, just in case. The rocks are still bumpy, but I don't look at those again, I look up —forward. Daddy says that when you move to in front of you, it's called forward.
There are people everywhere. Other mommas and daddies that aren't Momma or Daddy. There are even other kids, which is way cool. But they're loud and some are crying, which is way not cool.
Is there a word for not cool? I'll ask Momma later. Or Daddy. Daddy knows everything, but if he doesn't, then Momma does.
The other not-Mommas and not-Daddies, they're loud, too. And they're talking really fast to the other Mommas and Daddies around them. And it looks like they're getting food. I think its food because over there is a guy behind a big wood desk, and his desk is covered with vegetables. Yummy, yummy vegetables. I wonder if this is where all food comes from. Maybe! Oh, maybe, yummy vegetables live here with their vegetable mommies and daddies, until they're ready to leave and jump into my tummy!
I giggle and pat my tummy, "Momma?" I call quietly (being loud is not cool) and tug on her hand. I make sure to keep walking with her, though (I have to go fast because Momma is big). Sometimes walking and talking at the same time is hard.
"Yes, Miyo?"
"Are we getting more yummy vegetables?"
"Yes, Miyo."
Yay! More yummy vegetables! I tug on Momma's hand and jump up and down –once, twice, three times! Vege-ta-bles! Momma smiles down at me as she runs a quick hand over the top of my head, "Calm down, Miyo."
"Yes, Momma!" I say, tugging one more time on her hand —because today is so exciting!— before turning to look at the yummy vegetables again.
If there are yummy vegetables here, then everything else here is probably food, too. Which is weird, because why have other food if you can have yummy vegetables? Mommas and Daddies can be weird. I wonder what all the other food is called. Maybe they're yummy, too, and that's why there's more.
More, more, more. I skip beside Momma as she tugs me around, looking at all the maybe-food. I want more!
And suddenly I have more. More, and more, and more. Words come first. The sky is blue and the ground is cobbled and the people selling food are merchants and Momma is Mom. Then come pictures. Momma's face is overlapped with Mom's face (Momma's hair is blue and her eyes are black, Mom's hair is blonde and her eyes are brown. Both are stoic and mostly unsmiling), and then there is a world. A whole world in my head.
"Miyo!" Momma's voice snaps me from my thoughts, and I turn to look up at her again (up and up).
"I've told you already," her stern voice continues, a hard edge skimming her tone, her lips pulled down at the corners, black eyes stern, "Keep moving."
"Althea," Mom says a lifetime ago, "Haven't I told you to keep up already?" Her blonde hair is long and pretty and her brown eyes are staring into mine, one eyebrow raised and voice stern.
I rub my head to clear it, sending the weird images away (that's what Daddy says to do when I have a bad dream! I do it now, too, even though I'm not sleeping, because it's super silly to think that I have two Mommas) and place a hand over my chest, rubbing lightly at the faint ache I feel there.
Always do what Momma says.
I keep moving, tightening my grip on Momma's hand, holding as tight as I can before deciding that that isn't enough, and reach up with my other hand, too. I cling to Momma as she guides us through the crowd that gets bigger and bigger every time I turn my head.
Louder, too. Being loud is rude.
The word comes easy, now. Rude, which means not cool, the opposite of nice. Momma and Daddy use that word sometimes, but I had never noticed until now.
Loud people are rude.
Daddy will be so happy when I tell him that I've figured that out all by myself!
"Momma," I tug on Momma's hand, looking up (and up and up) at her.
"Yes Miyo?" Momma's blue hair is like mine, and she has black eyes, not like mine. Not like Mom. Momma and Mom, Momma and Mom.
Blue and Blonde.
Now and then.
I rub again at my chest, where it feels like something sharp is pressing in, making it hard to breathe, I glance down, just to check that there's nothing there (shouldn't something be there?).
I hear Momma sigh and she tugs my hand, making me look up from my (not red, how weird) chest.
"Sorry, um," I make sure to hush myself (Daddy says to hush when I get too loud and hurt my ears), "Momma, is it… rude, to be loud?" I ask. Because I remember that home (but… maybe not this home?) used to be really, really loud. All the time! But it didn't hurt my ears, then. But it does, now (then and now, before and after). I stare up (and up and up) at Momma, while rubbing at my ear softly with my free hand. Maybe my ears got better (or is it worse)?
Momma stares down at me for a long time. We keep walking. Momma is good at walking and talking at the same time —even when she's not talking, "Yes, Miyo," Momma finally says, the hand that I'm not holding coming up to pet my hair.
Light blue hair, like Momma's. Not Mom's. I smile as wide as I can manage up at Momma (at… mom?).
"Good girl, Miyo" she pets my hair again, "But don't smile so wide, sweetie. It's not good around other people besides Mom and Dad." Momma gives one last stroke before her hand falls and she looks forward again.
I nod and shape my lips back into a stern imitation of Momma's straight lips, glancing up (and up!) at Momma to make sure that I'm doing it right.
Always do what Momma says.
Momma leads us around all the people and people and people. The other Mommas and Daddies are still loud. Which means that they're rude, Momma says so. They also smell funny. Momma smells good, and Daddy, too. The Other Mommas and Daddies don't smell so good.
There was the smell of iron, once. A heavy, metallic smell right under my nose.
I scrunch up my nose and take a big, big sniff, to try and smell something good. Not that weird scary scent that Momma smells like, sometimes, when she gets home from work after being away for forever. One sniff, two sniffs, and I can smell the yummy vegetables!
I wonder if things can smell yummy. Daddy says that I like vegetables because they taste yummy. Does that mean that I like vegetables because they smell yummy, too?
I take a deep breath.
Just underneath the repugnant iron smell (or did I just smell it before the smell blood? Or after?) is the faint scent of a musky cologne. Something that smells rich and foreign.
I grip Momma's hand extra tight, and look down at my toes, which wiggle in my cool new boots. It's all wet on the (cobbled) rocks. It had rained that morning. I had heard it out my window. Rain always smells yummy (because I like it, it smells yummy). The yummy rain smell always seems to layer over everything else, making all the stinky, gross other smells go away.
Rain.
A chant starts in my head, drowning out everything else, something I only kind of remember:
Rain, rain go away. Come again another day.
I stumble after Momma.
Rain, rain go away. Come again another day.
The sky is blue. The ground is cobbled. The people selling food are merchants. Momma is Mom. Rain is rain and now that I have more, I know that rain has always smelled yummy, even a world away from here (a life away from here).
There is a tight knot that has settled sharply in my back, making it hard to breathe. I rub a bit at my chest and focus on taking one step forward, like Daddy used to tell me to do, back when walking was kind of hard.
"Miyo," Momma's stern voice breaks my concentration (breath in, breath out, in, out. Smell the rain. The rain. Don't smell the iron. Don't see the blood. It's not real. None of it is real. It's a dream. Just a dream. Forget it all. Forget. Forget.)
"Yes, Momma?"
Always listen to Momma.
I look up (and up and up) into her black eyes. I don't have Momma's eyes. I have Daddy's, which means that my eyes are gray. But I don't really get it because if I have Daddy's eyes, but Daddy still has Daddy's eyes, then how does anybody still have eyes?
(I used to have Mom's eyes.
—Stop. Forget it all. Forget. Send the dream away.)
Momma frowns down on me, her usual stern moue in place, "I am going to be buying our food now; you will not interrupt."
It's an order.
Always do what Momma says.
I nod.
Momma leads us over to a vegetable stand –a yummy vegetable stand! I jump up and down as Momma leads us forward, using her hand to pull myself up. Yummy vegetables! I want to see them all. My favorite is zucchini!
(My favorite has always been zucchini.)
"Mr. Tanaka," Momma greets.
I look up (and up) at the man who has all the yummy vegetables. He is old. Mr. Tanaka has wrinkles all over his face, and his pretty light pink hair is maybe falling out, because a lot of it seems to be missing, especially right on top of his old, shiny head.
I look back over to Momma. I thought she was old, but now Mr. Tanaka is old, so Momma isn't old… maybe.
They're both big, though.
(I was old, too, once upon a time. In the dream. I think.)
"Mrs. Nakamura," Mr. Tanaka nods respectfully, calling Momma by the name Momma, Daddy, and I all share —a family name, Daddy calls it, "The usual?" Mr. Tanaka's voice is really soft. Almost like he's whispering. Maybe that's why Momma likes him, because he's not rude like the not-Mommas and not-Daddies on the street.
And they are rude, Momma says so.
"Yes, Mr. Tanaka. And add an extra bushel of zucchini." I perk up, gripping tightly to Momma's one hand with both of mine, bouncing on my toes so that I can see the yummy vegetables. Yummy zucchini is my favorite.
Quickly, Mr. Tanaka begins plucking out vegetables from the big pile on his wooden vegetable desk. Those must be the vegetables ready to be in my tummy!
Momma shakes my hands off hers and digs into one of her pockets, pulling out money. That's the stuff that Daddy says we have to give people to get things. Momma separates some of the money from the bundle she's holding and places it on a clean portion of the vegetable desk. I push up on my tiptoes, hands gripping the wooden vegetable desk in front of me to try and see the money. For some reason, it doesn't look like I expect it to. Green. Money should be green. Instead, money is white and red and yellow and kind of pretty with lots of cool swirling leaves on it. Not green and wrinkly and with faces on it.
I bite my lip and stare at the money, which should probably be green. There was… there was something about money, in the end, wasn't there? Money, and blood. Money and blood. But… it was just a dream. Send it away. It was just a dream.
Mr. Tanaka places three big brown bags of yummy vegetables in front of Momma and me, startling me from my thoughts. I stare up at them, reaching out one hand to touch the bag closest to me. Yummy vegetables, all for us! We gave money for them and everything! That means that they are ours! Daddy said so!
"Miyo," Momma calls. I turn to stare up at her (up and up), keeping one hand on our yummy vegetables, so that the other Mommas and Daddies don't take them (they are rude, so they probably would! I'll totally protect this from the demons of the world!). "Do you want to help me carry these home?" I nod.
"This one," I tell Momma, tugging a bit on the bag that I'm touching. Momma picks up the bag from the table and gently puts it in my arms.
I fumble with the bag a bit —it's as big around as I am!— but by wrapping my arms tightly around it, I can still see over the top. The bag smells really good! Yummy, yummy vegetables! I grin up (and up and up) at Momma once I have the bag safe in my arms —no other Mommas and Daddies are stealing this bag!
Momma's black eyes stare into mine seriously.
"You will tell me if this becomes too heavy."
Always do what Momma says.
I nod.
Momma nods back and stands again, picking up the two bags left on the stand, one cradled in each arm. "I will walk behind you, Miyo," Momma gestures with her head for me to take the lead. I step carefully back into the rude, smelly crowd, Momma on my heels and bag of yummy vegetables in my arms.
Momma, Daddy, and I live really close to the market. Daddy said so once when he took me to the park. This is the first time, though, that Momma has taken me with her to the market. It's because now I'm a big girl, and I always listen and do what Momma says.
There's a lot and a lot of people around Mommy and me, and they're all so tall! But, since I'm a big girl (Mommy said so, and Mommy is always right), I know where I'm going. First, toward the north side of the market! The north side is the side that's close to the cool mountain with the two faces on it, so it's really easy to find north, and only babies can't do it. But I'm not a baby, I'm a big girl!
Momma and I push through the rude group of people to the edge of the market, where there's a lot less people and a lot more room. I stop walking for a second (walking can be really hard, sometimes, and Daddy says that that's okay) and set my bag down by my feet, before I carefully look around. Momma pauses behind me, but doesn't say anything, because she knows I'm a big girl now, and don't need help!
I swing my arms around, so they don't feel so tired any more (it's not time to take a nap, yet). After going north, I have to go left!
I look suspiciously down each street. There are three of them. I know that left isn't in front of me (because that's straight!), but, is left the way with all the buildings, or the other way with the other buildings?
The way with the buildings is a dirtier road, and it seems to get narrower as the road goes along. The other road with the other buildings, though, is cleaner and bigger and it seems familiar. I study the roads, one more time (even the straight road, just in case) before I bend down and pick my bag up again, so it is hugged firmly to my chest. Momma always said that a hug can change the world!
...No.I tighten my arms around the yummy vegetables bag, and I tuck my chin into the brown paper. Momma never said that. Momma doesn't approve of hugs. Mom, though… Mom liked hugs a lot, in the dream.
I sniff, gathering myself (that's what Momma says to do when I get overly emotional), and turn down the other road with the other buildings. That's the way to go. I figured it out because I'm a big girl!
Momma steps up next to me, "Good job, Miyo," she encourages.
I almost smile up (and up!) at her, but Momma doesn't like smiling, "Thanks, Momma." I try and keep my face serious and in straight lines, like Momma does, but I can feel a bad, bad smile tugging on my lips. I tuck my chin back down into the brown yummy vegetables bag, so that Momma doesn't see.
We walk without talking for a while (after going left, which is after going north, you have to go straight for a long time, and then our house will be on the left!), which is easier than walking and talking, but is also more boring, when I look up and see people running on top of the houses. I stare up at them, hoping that the yummy vegetable bag can hide my dropped chin from Momma, because I doubt she would like that. Just like she doesn't like smiling.
The figures on top of the buildings are all wearing dark colors, and they looks so tall and big and fast!
"Momma?" I ask, my voice coming out really quiet, even though I didn't mean it to. It's just, they look scary!
"Yes, Miyo?"
I hug my yummy vegetable bag closer to my chest, where it feels like one of the vegetables is poking me. It really hurts, "Are those demons?" I ask, still staring up at the running people on the buildings.
Momma shifts and glances quickly up at the running people, before looking down at me, "No, Miyo. Those are ninja, like Mom and Dad."
I steal another glance up at the buildings, but the running… ninja are all gone now. They're so fast! "What's a ninja?" I ask.
Momma hums in the back of her throat, like she always does when I ask a question she likes. Momma is funny like that, "Well," she begins, "Ninja are Konoha's protectors."
"Protectors?" Konoha is the city that our home is in, Daddy taught me that. Though, I feel like I'm forgetting something else about Konoha.
"Yes, protectors," Momma nods, "they keep people safe. The ninja on the roof are genin-ninja, they're always in the city, so that the city always has people to protect it."
"Oh," that doesn't sound too scary, I guess. "So Momma is a genin-ninja?" I ask.
Momma shakes her head, "No, Miyo. Mom is a jounin-ninja. Jounin are the ninja that Lord Tobirama sends out of the village, to be the first people who fight for Konoha."
I glance up (and up and up) at Momma, studying her stern face and short hair. Momma is a first-fighter. That doesn't sound very protector-ing. It sounds kind of demon-ish, instead. I readjust my yummy vegetable bag higher in my arms, and take a deep breath in, smelling the yummy, yummy zucchini that's right on top. I don't want to be scared of Momma.
"Is Lord Tobirama a genin-ninja, since he's always in the village?" I ask. There's something familiar about all this. Like a bedtime story I was told when I was still just a baby (but I'm a big girl now!), but not quite. Maybe Momma told me stories about him?
Looking up (and up!) at Momma, I can tell she's frowning more than normal because the space between her eyes is all wrinkly, like when my bed isn't made properly. Momma doesn't like that, so she must not be very happy right now.
"Miyo, this is very important for you to remember." I walk a bit straighter, which makes my yummy vegetable bag bump uncomfortably against my knees, but I have to pay extra close attention to what Momma says next, and Momma always says to 'stand up straight and pay attention, Miyo.' "Lord Tobirama is not a genin-ninja. He is the leader of Konoha and all of its inhabitants. He is very strong and wise, and many bad people, our enemies, who aren't from Konoha are very afraid of him."
"What's a… an inhabitant?" I struggle with the word, its seems like the big sort of word that has lots and lots of letters to it.
Momma shifts the bags around in her arms, "An inhabitant is a person that lives somewhere," she explains, "You and me, and all the ninja and civilians in Konoha are inhabitants of Konoha."
"Oh," I nod. I readjust my yummy vegetable higher, so it's no longer hitting my knees. Lord Tobirama sounds really scary, especially if he's the leader of all the… inhabitants of Konoha, even the scary ninja! For a second I wonder if he's ever stabbed anybody, but then I don't wonder any more, because that's too scary for even big girls like me to think about.
"So Lord Tobirama is important?" I ask, just to make super, super sure. Daddy says to always make sure that the information I have is correct. I don't know why that's important, but it makes lots of sense! That's what a lawyer needs to do, too! I think. It sounds right, at least.
"Yes, Miyo. Very important. Always do what Lord Tobirama dictates," Momma orders.
I nod. Always listen to Momma! And Lord Tobirama, I guess.
I'll have to ask Daddy what dictate means later. He doesn't get tired of questions like Momma does.
We keep walking, once again in silence. It's not so boring this time, though, because Momma told me lots of things I can think about. Except for the scary things. I don't want to think about those. I hold the bag of yummy vegetables closer to my chest that feels kinda like it hurts, but kinda not at the same time. Like it used to hurt there, but now maybe it's getting better.
When we reach our house, Momma has to open the door. I walk into the kitchen, passed Daddy who ruffles my hair, and with much difficulty I manage to place the bag I am carrying on one of the kitchen chairs. I crawl up onto the chair too, and pull a really really big yummy zucchini from the bag, shoving it onto the table in front of me.
"Momma, can we eat the yummy vegetables now?"
1. We didn't like our previous chapter one, we thought it was too... cliche? Boring? Either one.
2. While we were editing and redoing chapter one, we thought, eh, why not redo all the chapters.
3. Over the next six weeks, each edited chapter will be reposted. Thank you for your patience.
The Splits
