Berceuse of a Baby Fox (An Unforgettable day)
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Three months have passed since I left my Aunt's home, three months I've drowned in the static of acute sorrow, three months since I last saw her. It began four months ago, in the centre of the small village, there are maybe two hundred residents in total, maybe there's more but I, honestly didn't care, I still don't. But I'm back, at the top of Minomi Hill, where I left weeping.
It all starts when my life really began. It was just passed lunch time, I had just ate my Aunt's taiyaki, a fish shaped baked treat, it was warm and savoury, with a tender texture that I was too quickly becoming accustomed to. That was also, by no coincidence the last time I ate taiyaki alone, a serendipitous event, my chance encounter happened, right then, there. I saw her in the alleyway, she was small with gorgeous brown eyes, windows to a life much brighter than the one I've come to live. After approaching her, albeit timidly I observed her, engrossed by her small smile. Despite our unfamiliarity my mouth operated on its own accord.
"Makoto?" My voice echoed for a second, my mind raced so fast I could have passed out from fatigue. She wasn't Makoto, Makoto was gone, to a new school but even now he resemblance is striking to me. Whether it was because of shyness or lack of alternative she nodded. We talked for a while, about what? I've no idea anymore but I remember her enthusiasm when I asked her if she wanted something to eat. That smile of hers is carved into my soul, a recurring melody.
That, was the first time I'd been so happy in that town, I'm from the south, I don't belong here. But Makoto didn't mind, she simply listened to me, like nothing else mattered and that sensation of belonging is wonderful, she's why I want to become a vet, animals too are companions, I should help them.
We met everyday afterwards, in mornings, near the hill after my Aunt would take my cousin Nayuki to training, she wants to become a professional sprinter so she is really enthusiastic about exercising however I don't have that talent, for running at the very least. My song is my life, they say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but the power of music is all encompassing but until I met Makoto I never had the chance to play for anyone. I don't have any brothers or sisters and my parents were always hard at work, school wasn't much better either, most people had already built friendships due to their parents but my Mom and Dad moved here after they graduated so they nobody knows them.
I guess that's why I'm so happy to have had Makoto, she was my outlet for my passion, no matter the format - ballad, berceuse(a type of lullaby) or more standard classical she listened and stayed by my side. Maybe that's why my Aunt let Makoto stay until my holiday was over; she must have seen that I loved her. I would always play one song without fail each day - Pachibelle's Canon in D, it became really popular at the turn of the 80s, I heard at a restaurant with mom, that's when I gave my all into my music, that melody touched me.
It must have touched Makoto too, I remember her scent, like pork buns, maybe I just bought her too many? If it did touch her then I'm glad, that we got to share that, before we had to part.
It was the last Tuesday of winter break, my mom was going to pick me up in her car, it was more convenient for her. Her. Not for me. When Nayuki came to me and told me I had to leave, I felt a symphony - sombre passiveness, lively anger but above all a constant, looping misery. It was a crescendo of parting, of two friends separated, with no sign of encountering each other again.
"It's time to go home, your father's waiting!"
What does she know - nothing. That is all. I was filled with something, I don't know what, desire, passion, love? My body instinctively ran, to the hill I'm standing at now, my family probably just searched the house looking for me, or praised Nayuki. Neither option would shock me, only Makoto, by my side understood me. She was my family, a bond forged not by love, but compassion, an accompaniment on my journey.
The sky was a blank stave, streaks of clouds formed a melody with the stars, nature's melody. The hill silent. Time was at a standstill, but we continued on, at our own rhythm, our souls and heart beats a mesh of adrenaline and fear, until we arrived at the very top. A small clearing, as I approach I remember her purrs, in appreciation of the spectacle, of the harmony. The soft, wistful lilacs, passionate, vivid oranges, the entire spectrum, illuminated by the melodies of Tsukoyomi(The sky) and Okami(The ground's life).
It was then I came to a decision, one I wish I didn't make.
I had to leave her, it's the best thing I could do for her.
I couldn't go against all my family yet I wanted to keep Makoto, to stand by her, forever and ever. I can still envision her lush orange and white coat keeping us both warm, my shaky breath slowly returning to a normal state, and the sinking sensation engulfing me. I had a few pieces of candy or chocolate, I think it was a Golden Cup and some Fizzers, it wasn't much but it would keep Makoto occupied. I left them open by the lilacs as I prepared myself, to say the words I never thought I'd say to my foxy friend.
"I'm sorry, sayonara Makoto."
The rest is a blur; I just ran forward as tears dripped down my face and pondered, should I have left Makoto there alone? She's only a baby, my baby fox. Who listened to me, ate with me and loved me unconditionally. I returned home with my mom, I got grounded for a month but that time has expired. I'm here now, why I'm here I don't know but I have since kept hope, that I'd meet her again.
It's getting late I should probably go back, yet I want to know that there is a chance we'll meet again so I start humming, her favourite song. I remember how she would lick my face and snuggle my face, how she would devour porkbuns larger than she looked and how I played it for her.
A small figure approaches me, its deep, observant brown eye's brimming with childlike curiosity contrasting with it's elegant fur, as it comes close I can't help but cry, but this time for joy as a smile replaces my contemplative expression and I ask, with hope.
"Makoto"
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