"'Nee-chan! Wait for me!" I called, small legs trying to catch up to the mirror in front of me, the two of us climbing up the green hill to the great green tree that overlooked our tiny village. We were panting hard, our dark brown hair parted at opposite sides getting in our equally dark brown eyes. We looked at each other and giggled, plopping down as we felt our sweat mix in with the humidity that was July. I took a glance over the village that I had called home, all of the small homes that showed their age with faded colors that were put there by the first residents of them of which we all descended from and the disrepairs due to weather and floods that the ocean nearby brought. However, since the year after our birth, the floods haven't occurred nor has the normal heavy rains. I didn't understand it at the time, it was only something that the adults spoke of throughout the village, which caused for rice patties over in the nearby hills to dry out.

I was broken from my observations of the village when Michiko stood up, waving her arms up at two approaching figures. They looked up at us before waving, heading towards the direction of the beach. We eagerly ran down, seeing Katsuro and his best friend, Daichi, who in turn smiled and greeted us. Daichi patted my head as I quietly greeted him, Michiko greeting them as loudly as possible. Katsuro just put a hand on her back and guided her towards the beach as she began talking about our morning, Daichi smiling down at me.

"Hisami, your eyes are as beautiful as always," he smiled caringly down at me, my cheeks heating up a little. I bobbed my head, looking down at my feet as I mumbled a "thank you", the hard dirt underneath my zori turning into mushy sand as we reached the beach. The waters were relatively still, making it perfect for our lessons for the day.

Daichi was one of the only ones considered "middle class" in the village full of poor families and hungry children. His father was a sort of "middle man" for nobles and traveled often, taking trade between families as needed and got paid very well with each time he traveled. With the money, Daichi and his parents were fed, along with his two older brothers and his three younger sisters. They always had food in their bellies, but they would sometimes make food for other residents who didn't have any. They even gave Michiko and I some clothes and shoes to borrow for the festivals. Even with all of that, they taught Katsuro how to read and write, and then both he and Daichi taught Michiko and I. That's what we used the sand for. With our mighty sticks, we drew symbols in the ground to make words.

"Michiko, your handwriting is turning out really well," Daichi complemented, Katsuro having to walk me through the symbol for "hi" again. I kept writing the one for "ku".

"This is too hard…" I complained under my breath, my brother kneeling down and drawing the symbol with his finger for me to copy. So I did so. Somehow incorrectly. I couldn't help but glance over at Michiko, who was getting everything correctly. She was so perfect at this… I just sighed and dropped the stick, needing to stop. Before Katsuro could put it back in my hands, a familiar voice calling out for my sister and I made our heads snap up from the sand. Mother was calling for us.

Katsuro and Daichi nudged us from the beach, the two of us running quickly to the awaiting young woman who stood outside of our house. She was dressed in a tattered robe that one would have worn as a servant maybe a hundred years ago. Hand-me-downs were the only clothes me and my family actually got. She handed me a small woven basket and began drilling the instructions into our heads yet again. Enough food for the week, from the town that take 30 minutes to walk to. Be back by supper with at least enough food for one person.

And so we walked. And walked. And walked… We barely talked. I always felt guilty about stealing food every week. There were other people who needed that food that we stole too… My sister seemed to be fine with the idea, as she never complained about going up to the stands and to other people and sneaking the food away. I suppose even simple five-year olds such as us differed in morality.

When we reached the small town, we made our way to the market. I took it upon myself to distract the unsuspecting victims as my sister snuck fruits, vegetables and even a little bit of fish from baskets and stalls. It caused me to be smacked onto the ground once and receive a bruise on my cheek, but I didn't cry. I was used to strangers doing so when I had to pester them, but it worked.

This is how I lived for the next year. With my siblings, both of my parents, and content with my lifestyle. Sure, I was hungry often and it was almost always cold at night, but I was happy with it. I was with the people I loved, and nothing was wrong… Until father got sick that February. He used to never be home, constantly trying to find work in homes throughout other villages to complete any task given to him that would result in some money. But, then we realized that he was home everyday. Always in bed. Katsuro began looking for work in his place, Michiko and I forced to stay home to help mother care for him. He passed away after a month. It was sad, of course. We all cried and mother wept for days.

However, he wasn't the only one. Throughout the village, other men, women, and children, even a couple of whole families were becoming sick and dying. It was in mid-March when Michiko and I turned six, and we noticed Katsuro acting very odd. He was constantly pale, and mother was pestering him to rest some. He even cried himself to sleep a few times. On the one fateful night that could be counted as the official turning point of my childhood, I had crawled underneath the blanket with him to fall asleep, my mother and Michiko across the one-room home from us. I awoke very late at night to lightning lighting up the room and thunder rumbling across the sky. And alone under the blanket.

To be honest, I felt that something was wrong from the beginning, as though a little person had crawled into my gut and tugged at my stomach. I stood and went to the door, sliding it open. Katsuro's zori were still there. I slipped mine on and ran off, going to the one place I could think of to begin looking-our tree. As I approached the hill, while no one ever believed me, I swear I saw him. He turned and looked right at me. But he was gone after the lightning began to dance fiercely in the sky and rain droplets found their way into the ground. I raced up the hill as fast as I could, finally reaching the top. I looked up, the lightning giving me the light to see the most horrifying thing my young eyes had yet to see. I was frozen, shaking and feeling as though I had lost the ability to breathe. I fell to my knees, looking at the body suspended in air, dangling like a bucket over a well. Finally, I screamed, tears rushing down my face as though they were racing to see who could make it to my chin first. "'Nii-chan!" I cried out, screaming and crying. Two of the closest families must've heard me, for they came before my mother and Michiko. I had stopped crying. Michiko held onto me, my mother rushing to the men who pulled him down.

Daichi came over with two pieces of papers, explaining how he had written the two of us notes that were found held tightly in his hands. Wherever he had gotten the parchment from was completely beyond us. He took us back to our house while his mother attempted to calm down ours, lighting a candle and reading the letters to us. Michiko was told about how much of a bright and smart girl she was, and how she needed to use that to gain an advantage in this world. She would do wonderful things, as she was born to do.

"'Hisami'," Daichi started, looking over the letter. I could see, even then, how he looked so much older than twelve-maybe more like sixteen. "'You are the most tenderest soul that could ever walk this earth. I remember you saying how you did not like your name, for you wanted to be known for more than just beauty… But I think being known for your beautiful soul is just as important as being known for wisdom. Without you, I may have done this even sooner. Your heart is too kind to hate me for this, but you are still innocent-I did this to give you a chance to live. You'll see how someday. My sweet Hisami, don't forget who you are. You'll see me again.'"

And that was it. My sister and I just sat there, holding onto our notes tightly, trembling. If only I was given a real chance to realize what else was going to be changing in my life. Maybe I would've joined him.