*The asterisks mark the two places in this chapter where the name order was inverted (surname before given name) according to the Japanese custom.*

Chapter II

Kazoku (Family)

I reread the file countless times over dinner, but couldn't extract any more information from it than what I already knew. It was unclear whether Aoi and Odin had met earlier, but they had clearly had an affair during their stay in X-18999 at the time of Heero Yui's assassination from which I was the obvious result. They split up and – having left Oz – Aoi returned to Earth and married Seis Clark giving herself a husband and her unborn child a father. She had died a few years later of undisclosed causes, and I – though it didn't feature anywhere in the file – had been sent to live with Odin Lowe.

But why? What had happened to Seis Clark? Was he even still alive? Perhaps it had been an accident that had killed both him and Aoi. But was it premeditated? Did I even care to know? I regretted having overlooked his file, but alas it was done. There'd be no going back there.

'So?' Wischard studied me from across the table. 'Will you be heading to Japan?'

He sipped his drink. My eyes returned to the file, to the address Oz had acquired most likely without the Clarks' permission. If Seis even knew about his wife's past. It was my most obvious lead. 'I haven't enough money to make it that far.'

It was the truth. I had to get a job, find something to do, before I was left completely penniless. I did not much like that and would have rather continued my investigation, yet there was no point making it all the way there only to be stuck at the spaceport unable to pay for a single train ticket.

'I'll help you.' Wischard looked serious. 'You helped me. Now, I'll help you.'

'How?'

He was even worse off than I was.

'I've… family here. In this country. Family I'd never thought I'd see again. Family that thinks me dead much as those soldiers back there did.'

There were certainly reasons why he had not contacted them to undo that misunderstanding. I wasn't going to pry, but I didn't feel right asking him to make so big a sacrifice for my sake. No matter how indebted he believed he was to me.

'You needn't go to so much trouble. I wouldn't have got this information without your help.' I waved the file in front of his eyes. 'We're already even.'

Wischard measured my words carefully. He sipped his drink again. I could sense there was something he meant to say, but still seemed to be debating with himself on whether or not to do it. For some reason, I hoped he wouldn't.

'I must go back. It's the right thing to do, but I cannot face my family alone. I won't. If left to myself, I'll simply run and hide much as I've been doing since the end of the war.' He was as uncomfortable as I, but he gathered the strength to meet my eyes anyway. It was commendable. 'I'm offering my help in exchange for yours.'

As unsettling a job as that might be, I saw no better option. Besides, I could relate. I had, after all, run away from my former team mates back at the hospital in Brussels. If Relena hadn't been there when I awoke, I would have run from her as well. She knew as much, that's why she had stood guard by my bedside.

'What will I be?'

The man across me seemed slightly confused for a moment. 'What I already said you were. A friend.'

We reached the train station early the next morning. The money I had left was just enough to get us to our destination, but Wischard seemed divided.

'Are you certain it isn't cheaper to travel by bus?' he asked me.

'It isn't. You looked it up yourself.'

'But you'll have little money left either way.'

'I thought that was the reason we were headed to your kin's. Besides, I see no other way.' I didn't understand his questions initially. They were too obvious, rhetorical… But then I had been standing a step behind him. Once I stood beside him and took a good look at his face, I understood.

He didn't want to go. He was scared of facing his family again. That was why he'd said he couldn't do it alone, why he'd asked for my help. It was my duty to get him there. The only problem was that I had no idea how to do it other than tying him up and dragging him. I did not feel like it.

Thankfully, Wischard's resolution was way stronger than mine.

'Would you mind if we walked there?'

'What?'

'It's not that far. You're not in that much of a hurry to get to Japan, are you?'

Am I? I wondered. Truth was I had no idea what awaited me there. Probably nothing.

'No. We may walk.'

'Good.' He sounded slightly breath-taken as if he'd expected a negative instead. It took him a moment to regain his senses. 'This way then. I gather it'll take us eleven… Twelve hours to get there, and adding a few short pauses to eat and rest…'

'Perhaps we should take our time. Stop along the way to rest for the night and get there tomorrow.'

'I think…' Wischard ran a hand down his thigh, stopping at the edge of his prosthetic leg. 'That might be a good idea. I haven't walked half as much as we're going to now. Not since the accident.'

'I knew someone who went through a similar accident.' I did not know why it suddenly came back to me, but I felt like I should tell him. 'The bottom half of his mobile suit was caught in a beam sabre blast. Then it exploded.'

'Did the pilot make it?'

'He did. He lost his memories… Though only for a short time.'

Wischard nodded to himself. 'That's good. If he hadn't recovered them… Well, I'd say that'd be even worse than losing a leg.'

'Worse?'

'I know it doesn't seem so, but… A leg is a leg. Your memory's who you are. Losing your memory is like losing yourself.'

He was right. Trowa had been a whole different person without his memories. Losing yourself… It was a scary prospect. There are things one just doesn't want to forget, but then – once you've forgotten them – I guess it makes little difference.

'How did you make it?'

We stopped at a red light. The cars sped by us heedless of our pasts and presents, unconcerned about our torments or our futures. How great would it have been right then and there to just drive off into the sunset, pretend nothing else mattered. But then I'd always think of Relena because I still felt – as I had ever since I'd met her – that she was waiting for me to return. I could leave her behind yet she'd remain forever with me. I hadn't told her not to wait and I couldn't bear the thought of her watching out for me for the rest of her life.

'I was quick to turn on my propulsion.' Wischard began as we resumed walking. 'If it hadn't been for that… Scavengers found me hours after the battle. My wound had been partially cauterized by the blast itself so I managed not to lose life-threatening amounts of blood. When they stopped for fuel in X-18999 I was rushed to the hospital and then, once they discharged me, I wandered the colony until we met.'

'Coming back was never an option?'

'I didn't have the means. I suppose I could've contacted my family, but…' he shrugged. 'Have you any family? Other than whomever you're searching for in Japan?'

'No.'

'No friends? No one you even think of as family?'

Many faces came to mind. More faces than I'd have expected, but could they be called friends? Or family?

'I don't know.'

Somehow Wischard seemed to understand.

'I've a wife… and a sister.' He confessed though it appeared to pain him to do so. If it did, it must have been because he thought I was judging him for leaving them. I was not. How could I? I had left people behind myself.

'They were really worried when I enlisted, you see. And really angry.' He continued as we left the heart of the town and the buildings around us grew fewer and farther between. 'I thought – after all I'd been through – the last thing I needed was to hear their resentful "I told you so". I'd been included in the DIA list and I figured they'd be better off without me. Now, I realise I was just being selfish. I was ashamed of failing and disgusted by my lost leg… An eternal reminder.'

'Treize's Faction was all that stood between Earth and the White Fang. You saved the planet.'

'No, we didn't. The gundams did. Though I do recognise we played an important part. There's also the fact that I could've left. I could've left when Oz fell apart, when Treize was imprisoned, but I didn't. I wanted to continue fighting. I just wasn't done.'

'Hn.' I hadn't been done either. I still wasn't sure I was. 'And now?'

'Now?'

'Are you done now?'

The buildings all around us seemed to be over and the road, the entire world seemed a lot wider all of a sudden. 'Yeah.' Wischard said quietly, relieved. 'I'm done now.'

We went on longer than we'd originally planned. Wischard was very much in pain, limping much more obviously than usual, but the physical pain seemed to help him in a way, distract him from his fears and anxieties, so we kept on going.

By the time we checked into a roadside motel we were both exhausted. There were blisters on the soles of our feet and Wischard's leg stump was left raw and bleeding. He hissed when he removed the prosthetic leg then laughed bitterly at it.

'There was a time when wars were fought on foot and troops would march for hours every day.' He said. 'Those soldiers would crack up if they could see us now.'

I didn't partake in his amusement. 'Think you'll be able to continue?'

'Let's call the front desk, see if they have a med kit. A good dressing's all it needs.'

'There's no phone in the room. I'll go down and talk to them.'

'Thank you…' Wischard hesitated, looking down at his missing limb. 'Don't worry about tomorrow. I've been through this before… The blisters and scrapes. When I first started wearing this thing I needn't walk ten steps for them to show. I can work through the pain. You get used to it.'

'I know.' I suddenly seemed to recall every painful moment I'd ever been in, every injury sustained throughout training and then during the war… There were times when pain was all there was to feel. At those times it was even comforting in a way, the only reminder that I was still living. 'I've been there.'

Wischard nodded gravely. 'I was really angry back then… At myself and at the world. It was probably a good thing that I remained in outer space. If I'd returned I'd have pushed my family away. It'd have cost me much more than just a simple leg. Well…' he chuckled to himself. 'I guess it might still cost me, but at least I'll get to repay you. That's all that matters, that I don't owe anything to anyone.'

He hopped into the bathroom and disappeared behind the door, but it took me a while to gather my thoughts and make my way to the front desk. Something felt wrong, but I couldn't tell what. I knew Wischard was being honest and – I was surprised to realise – I did trust him, but I felt uncomfortable somehow. As if I was witnessing a crime and doing nothing to stop it. It only remained for me to tell what crime that was.

We didn't talk much the following day as we walked – in a significant amount of pain – the rest of the way, but once Wischard's family house came into view I simply had to. I'd had enough time to try and understand what had been bothering me and I had reached a reasonable conclusion.

It was a humble home. You could see from the outside that it was small… A one storey, two bedroom, one bathroom house. But it was well taken care of and the façade seemed to have been painted recently. I feared for a moment Wischard's family might have repaired it in order to list it and that we'd no longer find them there, but as my companion halted at the crest of the hill to admire it, he didn't look at all concerned, merely anxious. Extremely so.

'Wischard.'

'Mmm?'

'If you risk losing your family… If the only reason you're doing this is to repay whatever debt you think you owe me, then you shouldn't. I already told you we're even.'

He smiled at me through the pain and – at that moment – as the sun set behind us and the street lights went on, he somehow looked infinitely older than he actually was.

'I'm glad to hear that.' He said. 'But no, I'm not doing this for you. I said before I wanted your help, needed it even, because this is the right thing to do, and yet I couldn't have done it alone. And though I didn't completely mean it back then, I do so now. Now, that I'm exhausted and in nearly unbearable pain, I can tell you I ache for nothing more than home. My wife's welcoming smile, the old armchair by the fire and a cup of tea made with the herbs my sister grows in our backyard.'

'Hn.'

I understood his words, but I wasn't sure I grasped the feeling. Perhaps, having never really had a home, I simply couldn't. Still I wondered if that feeling was what awaited me at the end of my journey… In Japan. Or was it? Was this feeling of peace and belonging what I was ultimately looking for?

'So?' Wischard eyed me expectantly. 'Shall we?'

Something strong seemed to guide my companion down that hill, to lead him past the short wooden gate into the yard and all the way up to the porch. It faltered when he faced the front door however, and it was then I ceased to be a spectator. I crossed the line between pretending we were nothing but acquaintances and accepting we'd become friends somewhere along the way.

I rang the bell.

The woman who opened the door looked nothing like Wischard so I immediately assumed she was the wife. She looked shocked and confused, painfully so, but her missing husband offered no explanation. My new friend did nothing but stand there, a foot away from her, in silence.

A whole minute must have passed before that silence was broken. And not by words.

It was suddenly my turn to be completely shocked. I admit I even took an unconscious step back as the woman slapped him and then again and again until she went from fuming to weeping, threw her arms around Wischard's neck and pulled him into a vicious hug.

'Oh, Wischard!' she chanted between tears and they both cried.

To this very day, I dare say that was the most unpredictable, scariest scene I've ever witnessed and yet – despite the obvious awkwardness of my presence – for once in my life, I did not feel out of place.

At my friend's insistence, I stayed at the Kemenys' house for a week while the broken soles of my feet healed. I met Wischard's sister, I tried the herbal tea he'd mentioned, I was present when he told his family what had happened in the war and how he'd lost his leg, I heard the stories of how he and his wife had met and of the pranks his sister used to pull as a child only so her brother would take the blame, I was given a tour of the neighbourhood and witnessed many a reencounter.

They were very grateful to me and gave me plenty of money for the journey ahead. I wasn't exactly in a position where I could refuse them, pride or no pride. And – finally – on the night before I left, as Wischard and I sat at the porch, watching the stars and blowing clouds of hot air into the sky, I told him my story. All of it.

'Thank you.' He said after a moment of silence. 'If even the tiniest piece of Libra had fallen onto Earth my family might not have made it.'

'You're not surprised?'

'I'd never met a soldier with as sharp a mind and as cold an attitude as yours. Not at so young an age at least… People did say back then that the gundam pilots were remarkably young. I suspected you were someone big. I just never thought you were that big.'

'Hn.'

'You saved that which you were initially set on destroying.'

'I've always felt connected to this planet somehow. I thought it was an ancestry thing because Earth is where the human species was born, but it seems I may have been born here myself after all.'

Wischard pulled his coat tighter around him as he glanced up at the stars. They were particularly bright in the wintry sky and quite numerous, especially that night. 'It seems to me you do have a family back there, if you ever wish for one.'

On a certain level, seeing the life my friend and his wife had built together, had made me yearn for something I never thought I would, but I still couldn't see myself leading that life. I still didn't know who I was or what I was supposed to do or even how to turn that peaceful picture into reality. What if, once I had it all, I felt nothing but smothered by it?

'I know that now.' Was all I told Wischard, because I did see the truth in his words.

'I hope you discover what you're looking for, my friend. And – if ever you find your mind's standing in your way – put pen to paper. It helps me organize my thoughts when there's no one to talk to. Maybe it'll help you straighten yours as well.'

'Thank you, Wischard. For everything.'

'Don't mention it. Come visit us whenever.' He peeked over his shoulder at the front door and smiled when he noticed the faint sound of his wife singing. 'I feel for once I've no need to go anywhere and I'm sure that'll be for a long time.'

I couldn't read the sign above the doorbell. I reckoned I must have started learning Japanese at some point, but then I had been too young to remember any of it and – once I moved in with Lowe – it had all just faded away. It was the right address though. I was certain of it.

A man in his early thirties answered the door. No, he did not know any Aoi or Seis Clark, but then he was a foreigner and he'd only been living there for a few years. 'My landlady must know something.' He said. 'I'll give you her number. She's owned the place for at least a decade, I should think.'

I thanked him and went on my way. I wasn't sure what I'd expected to find, but I felt like that was the end of my search and I couldn't even tell whether that made me feel disappointed or relieved. I was certain I'd find nothing, yet I still wandered the streets in search of a place where I could use a phone.

I chastised myself for not asking to use the foreign guy's phone, but then I'd been so unsettled by the whole situation the idea had never occurred to me. It wasn't the kind of conversation I'd have anyone eavesdrop on anyway, not even a stranger.

As the afternoon wore on, I left the residential part of town and approached its bustling centre. I ignored the shops, stopping only once I'd found an inn. The place was old, traditional, and the owner spoke little English, but that – coupled with what little Japanese I'd seemed to unconsciously retain – proved to be enough to get me both a room and a phone.

It was only as I prepared to dial the landlady's number that it struck me… What was I going to tell her? What excuses would I give to be looking for the Clarks?

The truth. I told myself. Tell her the truth.

Yes, but what was it? Was I a man searching for his lost family? That was neither unusual nor impossible, especially not in times of war, yet somehow it did not feel like that was really what I was doing.

She doesn't need to know.

So I called her.

She sounded like an old lady and spoke with a heavy Japanese accent, pausing thoughtfully between words. The house where the Kurakus – as she called them – had lived their last years had been in her family for generations or, at least, the land had, for the house itself had already been rebuilt a couple of times. None of that information was of any interest to me though.

'So you knew the Clarks.' It was truly more of a question than a statement.

'Ah… Hai.' I could see her nod in my mind's eye though she sounded strangely hesitant. 'It was Aoi's mother I knew the most, actually. She asked me to let them the house.'

'Aoi's…mother?'

'Hai. Tanaka Junko*. If you wish to know more about the Kurakus it is Tanaka-san you should talk to.'

'Hn.'

'I will give you her telephone number.' She was suddenly in a hurry, clearly eager to get rid of me.

'Would you, perhaps, have her address too?' I hoped I didn't sound as suspicious to her as I did in my own head. I feared she might hang up on me so I decided to elaborate. 'You see, I…'

Dammit. I cleared my throat, as unused to emotional talk – or any talk at all – as a man had the right to be.

'To be honest, I believe I may be related to her and her late daughter and I think that's hardly a conversation to be had over the phone.'

The silence seemed to last a lifetime and I was already sure she would refuse me when her voice cut through my thoughts. 'I should not…' she began. 'But you sound truthful… So I will.'

And because she said I was telling the truth, I decided to believe her.

For a man who'd thought he'd find nothing, finding one's grandmother just seemed like too much. I did take the train out of the city and into the countryside, but – if I'm to be completely honest – the thought of turning around and running in the opposite direction did cross my mind.

More than once.

I had no idea what to expect or, especially, how to behave. And even though I didn't wish to upset or offend anyone, I was determined to be myself and to follow my emotions 'til the very end. So if heartfelt explanations and joyful tears were a must have then I'd just say I'd made a grievous mistake and take my immediate leave.

In fact, I didn't just think that was a possibility. In my mind, it was a certainty. I had no experience dealing with people, their feelings and expectations… I didn't know how to have a family, to be a part of one, so surely I'd be on my way sooner rather than later.

Colonization had driven humans out of Earth, giving the planet a chance to recover from all the harm we had done, but that wasn't all. People who clung to tradition, who stuck to the old ways had also thrived from the suddenly emptying cities and villages and I doubted I'd ever see a place where that was as obvious as in the Japanese countryside. Technology was present, of course. Extremely modern machines and adapted mobile suits were used in agriculture, but the roads were almost completely deserted of automobiles, and the narrow sleet-covered pathways travelled by the occasional cycle were surrounded by the still snow-blanketed fields and forests.

It took me half an hour to walk from the train platform to the residence of my would-be relatives. From the main road I took one of the slender pathways. It soon veered right past a waist-high shrubbery fence, which had turned into a snow block, and into a white painted garden. I had already expected the house would have a more traditional style so I wasn't exactly awed or intimidated by it. The shooji doors which led into the living room were wide open despite the piercing cold outside and I decided to approach from that side, hopefully I wouldn't startle the residents with my sudden and awkward arrival.

She sat at the kotatsu with a steaming cup of tea in her tiny wrinkled hands. Her grey hair was tied up behind her head in a bun and her eyes were half-closed behind her glasses. I cleared my throat as I neared the edge of the engawa, though I needn't have. There was gravel around and underneath the house and that, together with the snow and sleet, crunched under my boots. Our gazes crossed and whatever doubts I still had as to her identity vanished.

It felt as if I were looking into my own eyes.

'Sachiko!' the old woman called as she stood. Her piercing gaze remained on me, unmoving, but if she had somehow recognised me it didn't seem to affect her at all. Another woman shouted something unintelligible from somewhere inside the house before rushing into the room. She froze when she saw me, and I could see she meant to say something, probably to inquire if I needed help with anything, but the old woman cut in. 'Aoi no musuko da.' She said and the spreading smile vanished from Sachiko's face.

'Odin?' she asked in a whisper.

'Un.'

I frowned at them unsure of what they were saying. All I knew was that they were talking about Odin. Or maybe they were calling me Odin, for I suddenly remembered I had once been called that myself. It took them a minute to figure out what to do, but at last the old woman barked something at the younger, and Sachiko walked to the edge of the engawa to greet me.

'I don't speak Japanese.' I told her before she could launch into a long and complex questionnaire.

'You've… You've forgotten? Are you really Odin? Are you really Aoi's son? Mother's acquaintance called to say you were coming.' She did? I shouldn't have been so surprised, yet I felt that made my life easier somehow and I was slightly relieved. 'A young man who said he might be related to us.'

'It's what I've been led to believe. Though it's Heero now. Yui Heero*.'

I wasn't sure I had the right to use that name anymore… Not since the war had ended, not since I'd just realized I'd had another name before it, one that had been given to me by my own mother. But that was the only name my war-family – at least according to Wischard – knew me by and so I clung to it.

'Sachiko.' Her austere mother gave her more orders or so it seemed.

'She says you should come in and tell us your story. And, please, do not forget to take off your shoes.'

'Hn.'

I told them the truth, though I omitted many things. Things I didn't remember, things I thought were irrelevant to them. People I thought were irrelevant to them. I did not want to leave them any openings to question me further about my life or lack thereof. However, I couldn't stop them from inquiring about my reasons for seeking them out. Thankfully, I'd known that question would come and I'd prepared for it.

'This last attempt on peace left me thinking that I should come back to Earth and search for my roots before someone actually succeeded in destroying the planet.' It was a lie, of course, but I had no other excuse, which didn't make me sound like a freeloader, and the actual truth was just too personal for me to share.

Junko, my supposed grandmother, who had until that moment sat watching me like a statue, spoke up as Sachiko finished translating my answer. 'She said it's a good thing that you left the colonies. They only exist to brew evil and foment discord. Earth is where we all belong.' I nodded though I didn't agree and the daughter smiled in understanding while her mother went on. 'She says you need not worry anymore, for you are amidst family now, and that you should stay and relearn our ways and our language.'

It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. I could tell Sachiko was downplaying the old woman's words, but I could not blame her. My eyes were hard and unyielding on Junko's face. 'I'll stay.' I told the daughter and bowed. 'Arigatou gozaimasu.'

She seemed to be as surprised by my acceptance as I was.

The first place Sachiko took me to was the room next door where – right in the middle of the wall opposite the door we'd just crossed – stood a butsudan. Aoi's picture was at the heart of it. She looked young in it, happy and carefree. I was surprised my eyes, the eyes of Junko, could smile like that. On both sides of the portrait stood candlesticks and thin flower vases with dried up chrysanthemums in them. Incense sticks sat in a sand filled bowl in front of the picture, waiting.

'You may light one if you like.'

I didn't feel I had the right to. 'I did not know her.'

'You will. Mother has never really let her go. I think that's why she's so adamant that you stay. She loved my sister more than anyone.'

'Hn.'

'They were very much alike, both strong-willed women. Often at odds with each other, always fighting. Aoi wanted out of here, she wanted to see the world, to travel to the colonies. Mother wanted her to stay.'

'Yet she didn't.'

Sachiko smiled. 'No, she didn't.'

'I take it your mother wasn't pleased when she came back pregnant.'

'My sister wasn't a child anymore. She knew what she was doing, but, no, mother wasn't happy. She demanded Aoi get married right away and to a man of my mother's choice. And Aoi did get married, but to Seis, a man of her own choice.'

'So she wasn't forced to marry?'

'Oh, no. Pregnancy or no pregnancy, she wouldn't have got married if she did not want to. Aoi never cared what others thought of her.' She sounded surprised I'd ask, thoughtfully so. 'Were you worried?'

I guess, in an unconscious level, I had been. I didn't want to be the one responsible for ruining yet another life. I had enough blame on my shoulders as it was. But, of course, I didn't tell Sachiko that. Instead I said nothing as I watched her light an incense to her sister and make what seemed to be a short prayer. I knew nothing about religions or customs even though I was so familiar with death.

'How did she die?'

Sachiko took a very deep breath. It shuddered unsteadily. 'Seis shot her then himself. Or at least that's what the police concluded.'

'But you don't believe it.'

'No. I still think someone had them killed. My sister never told us what she did out there, in the colonies, but – whatever it was – I know she knew too much. Seis probably tried to defend her.' She turned back round to face me. 'In fact, I think you are the only reason why they let her live for so long after coming back home.'

Or maybe she talked and was eliminated. I thought. It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened. 'It had crossed my mind that they might have silenced her.'

'Un.' Sachiko glanced back at her sister's portrait. 'She lived the life she dreamed of. I know she would've liked to watch you grow, but she still led a happier life than most of us. No regrets, ne?'

No regrets.

'I'm sorry we didn't keep all of your things…' Sachiko stepped away from the open closet and I peeked at the big carton box at its floor. It was filled to the brim with colourful toys and old stained clothes. 'I don't know why my sister registered you as Odin Lowe's son and not Seis Clark's, but – whatever her reasons – because of that you were sent to live with your father when she died and Odin sent us no news. At some point, we started getting rid of things… We thought you were dead.'

I approached and, glancing at the contents of the box from up close, I could see there were a few of Aoi's belongings in it as well. I shook my head, overwhelmed not by her words but by the realisation that I had indeed been a child once, a child that owned toys and played for the sake of playing.

'I didn't expect you to have kept anything at all.'

'I'll leave you to it then. There are towels, a futon and duvets tucked there in the shelves. Please, make yourself at home.'

'I will.'

'If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen.'

Toys, clothes, picture books, jewels. I pulled many things out of that box. I did not recognise any of them. But then how could I? I'd been only 3 or 4 when Aoi died. Yet as I looked at all those sparkly things, some of them worn out by time, others belonging to the Clarks and not to me, I couldn't help hoping for something. Anything. I expected some sort of revelation to come over me, perhaps a sign that that place was indeed where I belonged, where I was supposed to be.

There was nothing though.

The toys were just moulded pieces of plastic and the clothes were just sewn scraps of fabric.

And I was still just Heero Yui.

An hour or so later, Sachiko came to tell me dinner would soon be served and that I could wait in the living room. Junko was still there. A television I hadn't noted earlier stood in the corner, a young hostess in a tailleur was going on about something, but the old lady at the kotatsu was much too distracted by whatever lay in front of her. As I stepped up behind her I could see it was a family album.

Junko met my eye and I made an awkward reverence. It seemed to be acceptable for she motioned for me to sit and pushed the book towards me pointing at one of the images with a long well-tended nail. I looked down and there, staring back at me, with big dark blue eyes and a mop of brown hair was Odin Lowe Junior. He held his mother's hand as she leaned over him, smiling reassuringly. I wondered if her loving words had been enough to erase the suspicious look from his face.

She showed me countless other pictures. Enough that it became clear to me the Clarks had been an ordinary and happy family however short their time together had been. In many images Odin was smiling widely, carelessly. In most of them, actually. Yet the only picture that I really identified with was the first one. The serious suspicious looking kid… Only in him did I glimpse the remotest trace of myself.

I wondered if that cheerful boy still lived inside me somewhere or if he had gone away with my innocence. Had I been present when the Clarks were killed? I decided I couldn't have. I would've certainly remembered something like that. Such is life. You learn from what pains and scares you because those feelings are the ones which mark us deeper than any other. Happiness comes and goes in waves. And, even though the little child in the photographs was the spitting image of me, I was still just Heero Yui.

The next morning I sat at the engawa, watching the frozen landscape when Sachiko approached me with a plain wooden tray bearing two cups of tea and a plate of onigiri. I had offered to help her at the kitchen earlier, but had been effusively refused as Junko had put up quite an opposition. Perhaps I shouldn't have meddled in their affairs so soon, but waited until I was familiarized with their customs before taking any action. The problem was that I felt restless and that restlessness, the lack of something to put mind and effort to was eating at me.

'Once spring comes you may work at the garden if you wish.' Sachiko sat seiza-style beside me, the tray between us. 'Your mother loved this garden. She always took such good care of it, but it's been abandoned ever since she left for the colonies. I think mother saw it as a way to punish her.'

'Won't she be opposed to my restoring it then?'

'U-un.' She shook her head, seemingly lost in memories of Aoi. 'She hinted at it herself. "An idle man is an unhappy man." she said. I think she can sense your unease.'

'Hn.'

'And then, if you wish, I can help you find a job. What did you do when you were in the colonies?'

'A spot of everything… Delivery, security, informatics, but mostly I fixed mobile suits.'

'We've a lot of machines around here that people use for agriculture. Mobile suits too. It shouldn't be hard for you to find something to do.'

Yes. I thought. But spring is still at least a couple months away. What will I do until then?

And then there was the fact that I hadn't planned on staying that long. Junko had said I should stay, but I'd thought she had meant for the winter only. Now, I could see she had meant for me to stay for a long time if not forever, yet I wasn't sure I could… Despite everything and the fact that I had nowhere else to go.

Except, perhaps, Relena's.

Or any of my former teammates' really.

Wischard had said that I could consider them a family if I wanted to and I didn't think they'd turn me down, but I was too proud to ask for their help and too conflicted to accept Relena's.

'I suppose… I could learn your language meanwhile.' I picked up one of the steaming cups.

'It's your language too.'

'I guess now it is.'

I glanced back at the slowly melting snow. I had been there before… In that house, at that engawa. I'd seen the pictures and, even though I couldn't remember, in that very spot it all suddenly came together…

My past, my present and my future.

And so came spring and I could speak and understand Japanese as well as if I'd never stopped. Reading and writing took a lot more work, but I was making progress.

I'd found old photos of the garden as it had been while Aoi lived there and decided I'd restore it to its previous form, both because I lacked the imagination to landscape and because I felt I owed it to her. I hadn't returned to the little butsudan ever since my first day in that house, but even though I didn't feel I had the right to go there and light an incense I still felt I needed to do something, anything, to pay my respects.

Gardening was slow work. It relied way too much on nature, which was frustratingly unpredictable, and so turned out to be quite an exercise in patience. I wasn't at my most patient, however, having accumulated far too much energy throughout the winter, and so working on the garden became a mere past time while Sachiko helped me find a more serious occupation.

It took us a month. Not just because I lacked references and credentials, but because – despite being their family – I was a foreigner. I had a different name and I carried the stigma of being a bastard child, of having murdered parents, of having been brought up in the colonies and having fought in the war. To the simple-minded country folk, I appeared to be a magnet for misfortune not to mention most soldiers were branded with the image of misfits as well as potential trouble makers. It didn't help that I refused to divulge for which side I had fought, yet for whatever reason I couldn't bring myself to lie.

The man who finally gave me an opportunity, was a former soldier himself though thirty years older and a local and, therefore, much more reliable. Itsuki Morimoto had been an Alliance major. He had retired before the war, saving himself some of the trouble I was facing, but that didn't mean he couldn't sympathise. There wasn't much work at his mobile suit repair shop at the moment nor money to spare, yet he offered me a part-time job as an apprentice anyway.

I didn't even think before I said yes.

It felt good to be around MSs once again and to know what I was doing. Morimoto was impressed with my work and, as they grew less wary and more curious about me, the local farmers started bringing more work to the shop. My working hours doubled, my salary doubled and the more mobile suits I fixed the more people respected me.

Junko was pleased with me as well. She didn't say much, but she watched me work at the garden in my free time, and she started spending more time at the engawa when summer came and the grass spread and the flowers bloomed.

And then the harvest came and the MSs we'd fixed were working at the fields and the leaves in the trees were falling and the flowers wilted and crumbled.

Then, suddenly, Sachiko and I were watching from the engawa as the first snow fell and the garden was slowly covered in a white blanket and it was winter again.

In the blink of an eye, I had been there for a year and, in the blink of another, ten years had passed.

GLOSSARY (I know some of the words may seem obvious, but you never know, eh?)

Culture and Architecture

Shooji doors: wooden frame covered in rice paper used as a partition in Japanese houses

Kotatsu: a low table adapted with a duvet and a heat source underneath

Engawa: a Japanese style veranda

Butsudan: a small indoors buddhist altar for prayer and honouring the dead

Futon: thin Japanese mattress which during the day can be rolled up or folded and kept in the closet

Onigiri: rice ball

Seiza: a traditional, formal sitting style with the legs folded underneath the thighs

Language

Hai = Yes

-san = a formal suffix equivalent in English to the prefixes Mrs or Mr

'Aoi no musuko da.' = 'It's Aoi's son.'

'Un' & 'U-un' = an informal 'Yes' and 'No', respectively. The equivalent of our 'M-Hmm' or 'Uh-uh'

'Arigatou gozaimasu.' = 'Thank you very much.'

ne? = used at the end of a phrase when you prompt someone to agree with you, sort of like 'right?' or 'eh?' or 'huh?'

TRIVIA

Names and Surnames

Yui: for whatever reason, I prefer and usually write Yuy with a 'Y' at the end, but in this case I've adopted the more correct Japanese version.

Wischard: is an old Norman name meaning 'brave' and 'wise', while his surname (Kemeny) is Hungarian and means 'hard/tough'.

Tanaka: Aoi's family name means 'dweller in the rice fields' because I meant it to be an old family, a family that grew and prospered from agriculture back in the day.

Junko: means 'obedient child' because she's a very strict and traditional person.

Sachiko: means 'happy/lucky child'. There's a hidden joke here actually, because Aoi can mean 'blue', a synonym for 'sad' in English.

Itsuki: means 'tree' and Morimoto 'origin/root of the forest'. He's the man who gave Heero security and allowed him to establish roots by offering him a job.