A Fresh Start

"Sora, baby, I know you're exhausted from the flight, but we're going to be there soon"

I moaned "Shhh I'm sleeping". I was starting to drift off again till I felt my dad's hand on my shoulder. "C'mon lazy bones, don't go back to sleep again". With one hand on the steering wheel he started to shake my shoulder to prevent me from falling asleep. "I'm not going to stop till you open your eyes".

Giving up I groaned, feeling annoyed "Okay, okay, I'm awake, just shut up and put both your hands on the steering wheel, you lunatic". I opened my eyes. He chuckled softly as his other hand returned to the wheel "Only my daughter would call me a lunatic". I looked at him "People do, just not to your face".

Shaking his head, he continued to chuckle as he gazed at the winding road ahead. It was these moments I cherished. There were so very few of them.

He barely laughs, or even smiles these days… since the accident… since my mother died.

My heart clenched.

It had been a couple of months since the accident. When my mother was ripped away from us. It was only an accident, it wasn't anyone else's fault. But the impact was instant. It happened so quickly that she didn't have time to react. She died instantly.

Since then our lives had never been the same. I cried myself to sleep every night the first couple of weeks. My dad barely says anything since she died. There are no words to describe how much it hurt lose her.

I could feel the tears forming underneath my eyes, shaking my head in frustration, I wiped my eyes and turned to look outside the window.

"No, I can't start crying now, not in front of him, I have to be strong…for him" I thought.

Losing Mum had taken its toll on him. He looked older… wearer. His brown hair was now streaked with grey and his sapphire eyes were surrounded by wrinkles with dark crescent moon shadows underneath them.

He didn't always look like this.

In fact, Tsukimi Akatsuki was quite handsome for a father in his late thirties. He is also a famous artist as well as a collector of fine art.

His work over the years had shaped him to be: "The Leonardo da Vincie of the 21st century".

My mother, Tsukimi Erica. She was of Scottish descent from my grandfather's side. She was a natural beauty with fair red hair, vivid blue eyes. And a perfect smile. She was so beautiful that it hurt to even look at her. Like my dear father she shared his love of art.

She truly was something from a dream, and above all she was kind and loving.

To put it plainly: My parents were the Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie of the art world.

The sun was beginning to set as we drove on. I sighed. We arrived in Japan early in the afternoon, but we still had a long drive ahead of us to get to Azumano.

My Dad glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Another half hour and we'll be in Azumano shortly".

Azumano.

A small town which loomed over a cliff, overlooking a vast sea of streets and houses on the edge of the east coast. Connected by a small winding road and train tracks which go up to the main part of town and back down again every single day. It was my Dad's home town. Where he was born and raised. It was where he met my Mum when she was studying in Japan. It was where I was born.

We lived there till I was about six, it was around then my parents decided to move us to Scotland to be near my Mum's parents. But they couldn't bear the thought of selling our house so it became our holiday home instead which we visited for our holidays almost every year,

It wasn't long before we saw the glowing lights of this once familiar town like a ship sailing over a desolate sea. It was even more beautiful than I could remember.

We arrived at our home which was nestled amongst the other houses in the vast suburban area below the cliff. My childhood memories came flooding back to me, my father carrying me on his shoulders on the way to market. My mother holding me close to her heart in a warm, comforting embrace. It felt good to be back.

I glanced at my father. He was looking at me. He gave me an encouraging smile. In that moment he seemed like his old self again, it was nice. I smiled back.

"Welcome home sweetheart"

Eager to get inside and freshen up, we got out of the car. While my dad went to open the door, I stayed outside to collect my suitcase from the car before dragging it into the house.

I was greeted by various paintings and sculptures which my Parents have made and collected over the years. The artwork was only a small fraction of the treasures they had collected over the years, some were back in our house in Scotland. Some were in storage, while the rest were housed in museums all around the world. It was like a miniature museum, with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room and my parent's art studios.

As if in a trance, I left my suitcase in the hall and walked slowly towards my mother's studio.

My parent's studios is in fact one massive room but since they were both pretty self-conscience about their work so they decided to build in a screen which splits the room in half that allows them to work in peace.

I tried to open the door. But it wouldn't open.

"Dad must have the key" I thought.

"Sora, could you take your suitcase up to your room? It's blocking the hall and I've still got boxes to bring in from the car"

"Sure"

One last glance at the door to the studio, I reluctantly grabbed my suitcase and made my way up the stairs to my bedroom.

I turned the doorknob and walked in and smiled.

"These four walls haven't changed a bit"

The walls were painted a light shade of purple, there was a wardrobe and a bookcase in the corner of the room, a desk and chair, the bed covers were a darker shade of purple with a floral pattern and the walls were covered in drawings and paintings I did when I was little.

Quickly, I unpacked my suitcase then helped my dad unload the other boxes from the car. Then showered.

Wrapped in my towel, I walked over to the mirror and took in my appearance.

I was not beauteous like my parents. People said I looked like my mother, but there was very little resemblance between us apart from our short height and our curvy figures. Instead of her auburn locks and emerald eyes I inherited my father's brown hair and his almond shaped blue eyes.

I turned my back towards the mirror and lowered my towel down slightly.

And there it was, as plain as the eye can see:

The birthmark.

If you can even call it that. At first glance you would think it was a tattoo, but according to my parent's I've had it since I was born.

To say the least they were horrified to discover that their new-born baby girl had this freakish mark on her tiny back.

What was supposed to be the greatest day of their lives turned into a mix of confusion and shock. The doctors didn't know what to think when they pondered over the strange lines across my back. At first they accused my parents of child abuse but after the midwives assured them that they did no such thing they concluded that it was just a birthmark. Crisis averted.

I suspected my parents were hopping that it would fade over time, as most birthmarks do. But instead it grew as I grew.

It was clear to see that the birthmark was a pair of wings. Which I thought was pretty ironic since it was on my back. But these days it was nothing but a teasing reminder of the dreams.

Quickly I changed into my Pyjamas and helped my dad with the rest of the unpacking. It was a bit late for going food shopping so we ordered take out.

Worn out after a long day of travelling we went straight to bed.

The sun was shining brightly down on Azumano, early the following morning. Its gentle rays shone right through the partially opened curtains, rousing me from my peaceful sleep.

I rolled away from the sun's blinding light, hoping to gain a few more minutes of sleep till I glanced at the clock beside my bed.

11:00 am, Danm.

Reluctantly I left the comfort of my warm bed, went to the bathroom, washed my face, did my teeth and went back into my room to change, I threw on my black skinny jeans, grey t-shirt and grabbed my marron jumper before heading downstairs for breakfast.

I walked into the kitchen thinking that it would be empty, but was surprised when I saw my father up and changed, sipping coffee while reading today's newspaper, these past couple of months he had made a bit of a habit of sleeping in till 12 o'clock at the latest. He looked up from his newspaper and smiled.

"Good morning sweetheart"

"Morning Dad", I replied poring a cup of freshly ground coffee.

"Did you sleep OK?"

"Like a baby panda" I replied, placing my coffee on the table across from him,

I went to make myself some breakfast when it occurred to me, "Hey, when did you get stuff in for breakfast?"

Taking another sip of coffee, he returned to his paper, "I woke up early this morning to hit the market place before all the fresh bread runs out, I would have woken you but you looked so peaceful, plus I thought it might me a nice surprise"

I made myself a jam sandwich and took a bite, it was fantastic. I sat down at the table across from him and proceeded to eat my breakfast.

My father folded his paper over and put it to the side of the table, "I still need to get some things in for dinner tonight. Only the bakery was open this morning and market doesn't start till noon, I also need to buy some more easels and paintbrushes. You are welcome to join me, I could use the company."

I pondered over his offer, I didn't want to stay in the house by myself and I had nothing else better to do with my day and it would be nice to get to know the town again so I smiled and said, "Sure, that would be great"

About an hour later we were among the bustling crowds on market day, trying not to bump into anyone, holding a heavy bag full of supplies, my dad glanced at his list.

"OK, food wise we have got everything, but we still have to get easels and paintbrushes from the art shop, then we'll head home."

I nodded, I was only half listening as the crowd swarmed around us like bees. Azumano hasn't changed a bit.

"Akatuski–san?"

Surprised, Dad spun around so quickly that he nearly dropped the supplies, I looked round to see who it was.

Behind us was a tall, curvy woman with short light brown hair and warm brown eyes that held the look bewilderment, she looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place who she was. My eyes caught some movement behind her. It was a boy with red hair, he was roughly the same height as me maybe a little taller. He looked just as surprised as I was.

I looked at my father, trying to figure out if he knew her. The look on his face said as much, his bewilderment matching the woman in front of us, his face then broke into a grin.

"Niwa Emiko"