A mother's pain, a father's sacrifice...a few things in between...
Origin Unknown
by Yui
(first published 2012.06.14, now broken down into 5 pages.)
1
It was the start of a difficult year for her, the beginning of the end. She just wanted a normal life, as normal as any belonging to a shinobi family would allow. But it was not meant to be. She was, after all, a woman hailing from a respected clan. She had a responsibility toward her family to keep a brave and cheerful front no matter the circumstances.
No one needed to know that her heart weighed a ton. Her husband, who she loved dearly, had changed before her eyes. His temperament worsened with each passing month and she didn't fully understand why.
Everyday it seemed like she was walking on a tightrope, careful not to tilt even just a little on either side lest she lose her balance and fall. She dreaded waking up in the morning for fear of what's to come.
She kept her eyes open for as long as possible every night and just waited till she heard the first cock crow. She would then immediately get up and proceed to her routine - make breakfast, bathe and feed her 3-year old son, clean the house, be as quiet as possible. She made sure she knew where everything was so that when her husband asked for anything, she would have it at the ready.
She kept her son out of the way and taught him lessons advanced for his age so that when his father checked, the boy would be prepared and spared punishment because of perceived ignorance.
When did it start? When did he change? When did she begin fearing her own existence? She wasn't even sure anymore. But she was determined to strive on for her son's sake, and even for her husband's. Because even if she felt he had become a stranger to her, she loved him still.
2
It was one of those days when she was feeling particularly oppressed that the young man came into her life. Her husband was in a bad mood that morning having had a troublesome night at work. He yelled at her for not being quick enough to refill his teacup. He has such heavy responsibilities, everyone is relying on him, it can't be helped, she justified for him as she walked wearily to the marketplace.
"Why hello there," the fish vendor greeted. "Oy Goro, look who's here," she yelled to her husband who was behind the stall curtains. "You know how he likes to look at you," she said to her. "He says you're very beautiful. And you are, indeed you are. I let him get his eyeful as long as he doesn't go gallivanting with some witless female in one of those sleazy bars, you know?"
She blushed at the woman's prattle. She felt quite uncomfortable being ogled in a weird way by an old man. And yet she felt she had to project a smile as if it didn't bother her. She made her purchase and discreetly walked away.
It didn't help that she wasn't feeling particularly beautiful at the moment though she had been told many times by others that she was. Her dark almond eyes were easily her best features that accented her smooth fair skin. Men would often do a double-take as she walked by leaving a view of her long dark hair flowing behind her. It was of little effort on her part to be such a beauty at 26 and yet she was conscious of being presentable for her husband's sake, not that he noticed her in such a manner anymore.
Next stop was the fruit vendor's stall. She strictly had to keep to budget but she wanted to buy some fruit for her son at least. That's when she saw him; a scraggly and pale young man with longish dark hair tied recklessly in a pony tail. His clothes looked clean enough but his shirt and trousers were so rumpled they looked like they had never known the touch of an iron. He was holding up a piece of paper to the fruit vendor and had a pleading look on his face.
"What would I do with that?" the vendor asked irritably.
"If you don't like it, I can draw you another one," the young man said softly. "Just one apple in exchange...please?" He said the last with a hint of desperation.
3
Before she knew it, she was reaching for her wallet. "One apple please," she said to the vendor who gladly obliged.
"Here," she said handing the apple to the young man. He looked her in the eye, his expression bordering between confusion, anxiety or anger, she wasn't quite sure. In either case, he didn't extend his hand to receive the apple. He just bowed awkwardly and walked away.
"Wait," she called but he increased his pace crisscrossing his way between other pedestrians along the busy street.
"So rude," remarked the fruit vendor. "If you ask me, you shouldn't have bothered. Imagine the gall to offer me a drawing instead of cash."
"He must have been hungry," she said sympathetically then looked back over her shoulder to check if he was still within sight. He wasn't.
"Oh don't worry yourself with the likes of him. Those beggars will always try to con you out of whatever they can get for free."
Why didn't he take the apple then, she wanted to ask but she kept it to herself. She bought another apple and some oranges before proceeding to her next stop, the vegetable vendor.
She managed to complete her shopping list within an hour quite in a hurry to go home in order to relieve the baby-sitter and then prepare lunch. The weather was particularly gloomy that day. Dark gray clouds signaled rain at any minute. She felt in her bag for her folding umbrella just to be ready.
Sure enough, a few drops of rain began to trickle down soon after. It was just a drizzle, not too heavy, but she hastened her pace along the street anyway. A few umbrella-deprived pedestrians took shelter under the stall canopies.
And then she spotted him again. He was in an exposed corner scrambling to gather pieces of paper that were laid out on a brown straw mat. A sign beside him read "Art for Sale."
She resisted the urge to approach but something about how he was desperately trying to save his artwork from the rain made her come forward and hold out her umbrella on top of his head.
4
"Aaah! Aaah!" He panicked as he looked frantically at his art pieces. She didn't understand what he was griping about until she realized the edge of her umbrella was causing more water to fall heavily onto his artwork.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she gasped. She absent-mindedly set the umbrella aside and proceeded to pick up the pieces of paper herself. She gathered as much as she could before handing them over to the soggy young man who took them with a tinge of annoyance. She was, she realized, getting soggy too so she picked up her umbrella and raised it over herself. The drizzle had turned into an actual downpour.
"You're not a stalker, are you?" the man asked with suspicion.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're the woman from back there."
"Well, yes. But I'm not stalking you. I just thought you needed help."
"Right," he said. "Of course," he added wistfully, realizing the absurdity of his accusation. He looked down on the sheets in his hand and crumpled them together to her dismay.
"Why did you do that?" She asked feeling sorry for her wasted effort.
"They're all ruined now anyway," he shrugged as he raised the crumpled sheets that resembled a twisted roll good enough to be used as a fly swatter. He bent down to pick up his backpack that looked equally rugged as he was. He folded the wet mat and clipped it under his arm. He nodded to her once then walked away. She watched him as he very casually tossed the fly swatter into a trash bin that was nearby.
"Wait," she said. He did not stop. "Wait," she called louder.
He turned to her with a questioning look. She walked briskly toward him while rummaging in her shopping bag. "Here," she said holding up an apple to him.
"Thanks but –"
"Look, I know all about male pride, believe me I know," she said. "But this is nothing. It's just an apple. If you don't want to take a favor then just consider it a loan. I don't think we'll see each other again after this so just give the fruit vendor the payment when you have it and ask her to give it to me, okay?"
5
He was taken aback by her words. He'd been spoken roughly to before but not like that. No one ever bothered to consider his pride and he was sure he'd lost it a long time ago. Attempting to trade his drawings for food was pathetic and he knew he couldn't sink any lower. Then here was someone who was offering an apple on loan. Either she was being condescending or just plain naïve for showing him a bit of…what was it? Respect?
He stared at the apple a while then reached for it hesitantly. He glanced upward at her before dropping his gaze back on the fruit in his hand. She looked serious to him, no hint of condescension, must be naïve then, he decided. "I'm not sure when I can give the vendor the payment," he said.
She rolled her eyes quite incredulous at his stubbornness. She watched as he opened his backpack while struggling to keep his mat under his arm. Water was dripping from the tip of his nose and his wet shirt clung to his body. He took out a small blank parchment and handed it to her motioning for her to take it to keep it from getting wet. She held it under her umbrella and wondered what he was up to.
He rummaged inside his bag again and took out a bottle of ink and a brush. She then understood what he was planning to do but was careful not to appear presumptuous. The rain had stopped and she watched as he wiped his face with his hand before bending over to dip his brush into the ink bottle that he had uncapped on the ground. He then tried his best to dry his left hand by wiping them on the inside of his bag before taking the blank parchment from her.
"Is there a picture you like? I'll draw anything," he said.
"It's not necessary," she replied having her answer ready early on.
"Please," he begged almost too desperately.
She sighed. She knew she would be the one to give in sooner or later. Sooner rather than later since she really had to be on her way. "Fine, a butterfly."
Continued next page