Five senses in five years. And a sixth she doesn't gain until it's too late. Shiori knows her son is special.
Shiori knows her son is special the moment she looks into his fresh-grass green eyes. For the briefest of moments, those eyes are cold, hating, disgusted. Then the baby blinks, and when she sees them again they are clouded with infantile innocence. And she convinces herself she did not see a god, a demon, a being beyond her power and understanding, behind the eyes of her beloved son.
Shuuichi is one year old. Shiori holds him close, but never to her face. She doesn't think she can stand to see the cool, detached intelligence in him. She loves him with all her heart, but she fears that being just a little more. Everything in her screams to run, and she can't hear it.
Shuuichi smells of earth and fresh growth. He reminds her of the first day of spring. It takes her two years to realize why she thinks of blooming flowers when she breathes in his scent. When she does, she doesn't ask questions. She holds him a little bit tighter, maybe, but she knows to leave well-enough alone.
Shiori likes to feel his smooth hair. He keeps it so well-groomed, and she's never had to tell him to wash or brush it like with any other little boy. He does everything she tells him to, perfectly, without complaint. She's always getting compliments from other mothers about how well-behaved he is. She glows with pride and tells them it's nothing special. There is pride and love in her eyes.
She goes home and cries silently at the kitchen table. Wonders why a goddemonangelthing chose her for it's mother.
She knows Shuuichi watches her with a puzzled look. He knows that, too.
Her breath stops in her throat. Shuuichi is falling in slow motion, a blank look on his face, like he can't believe this is happening. The ceramic shatters below him, and he is falling headfirst.
He will die.
Shiori doesn't hesitate, because no matter what, this is Shuuichi, who she has raised from birth, and who she will gladly put her life on the line for. She dives forward, hands already out. She cushions his head, and though it feels like a ten-pound weight has been dropped on them, and the shards slice her hands open, she doesn't flinch. He is already facing her and his eyes say Why did you do that, as though he cannot even begin to comprehend the love she feels for him.
She smiles and is aware that she bit through her own lips, and there is blood in her mouth.
It tastes like metal and salt, but she has more important things to worry about. Shuuichi might have landed on some stray shards of ceramic.
Shiori thinks the thing has left her son. That day, something changes. Shuuichi outwardly and publicly shows affection to her, and for the first time, she can say it is real. When she comes home from the hospital, he is warm and welcoming and helpful. This is the way it will be for the next decade or so. Her life is one good thing after another, because she has the best, most considerate and loving son anyone could want, her job is hardly any stress at all, and she is engaged to a kind man with a sweet son.
She doesn't remember what her dreams tell her, that the thing in her son is there all the time now; it's just learned to love and show it. And it's no more human for it.
Shuuichi has always disappeared for hours on end, but when he begins to speak of his friends Yuusuke and Hiei and Kuwabara, he vanishes for days, weeks. She tries not to worry, but she's never met these people, and he nearly always comes back bruised and injured. He tells her they're just roughousing. He does it so convincingly that she is forced to set aside her doubts.
When he is eighteen, just three weeks after his birthday, Shuuichi says goodbye, leaves for school, and never comes back. Shiori cries, but the tears are more for show than anything. She's beginning to realize that she said her goodbyes a long time ago. Maybe even the first time he came home with injuries, after three days of no word.
She's also starting to realize that Shuuichi wasn't really Shuuichi as she knew him, but that's okay, too. He's still the kindest person she knows, especially if he's defying his very nature by being so. He's lying to protect her, leaving to protect her, and she can live with that.
Shiori meets one of Shuuichi's friends, once. His name isn't said, but she thinks it's Yuusuke. He is relaxed on her son's bed, freshly made, and seems to be asleep. For a moment, she sees just the vaguest form and thinks he might have returned, but then things come into focus.
Yuusuke opens his eyes and there is nothing human about him anymore. He is like her son, only not. He is more human, but also more fake. Unreal. She thinks maybe the two come hand in hand. He just looks at her, sits up.
"He's not gone... you just won't see him. Asked me to come tell you that. And he loves you, probably more than you know. But it looks to me like this visit was wasted."
Then he is gone. It takes her a while to figure out what the boy said, but when she does, she laughs.
Shiori's garden blooms and flourishes through every winter and fall and spring and summer. With every open flower, she knows just how much her first son loves her.