He felt as though he could hear the sounds of his mother begging for water even from where he sat next to the river. She was sick, his father said, and they had to be careful with how much water they gave her. It was more important that she ate. No matter how hard they tried, none of the food would help her. His mother grew thinner and more ill every day.

That morning he'd caught his brother crying. When Shinta had opened his mouth to speak, his brother told him to go outside. Wiping his tears away hastily, his older brother had gone to sit by their mother's side. His mother wasn't the only person fallen ill, however. In two weeks since Otsune-san had sent him to find his father, many of the children and the elders had started to sicken. At first, when the children had started to complain, their families had hoped that it was a simple illness. Easily gotten rid of with rest and enough water to drink. The unrelenting heat had been making everyone a bit ill. However, the water seemed to make the children worse. From there it had spread insidiously.

One by one, the children had started to die. Only last night, Yuutaro had fallen asleep and not awakened the next morning. Shinta knew that it was only the fact that his own mother had been viciously stricken with the disease that had kept Yuutaro's father from accusing Tou-chan of not doing enough to save his son.

Tou-chan said that people were often unreasonable when they were hurt. Shinta felt the tears prickling at his eyes, when he felt a shadow move over him. Tilting his head upward, he saw the outline of his father's face over him. Squinting against the bright light, "Tou-chan?" he asked.

His father slowly lowered himself to the ground beside him and draped an arm over his shoulders. Squeezing Shinta's shoulders slightly, he was silent. The quiet comfort of his presence smoothed away the unreasonably urgent prickling in his eyes, and Shinta breathed a small sigh of relief. They sat in silence for a few minutes watching and listening to the river.

"Tou-chan... is Ofukuro going to get better?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Tou-chan kept silent for another moment and then replied, "Shinta only the gods know when a person will leave this earth. All we can do is our best."

The sun was low in the sky by the time Shinta and his father made it back to their house. Only a bit of candlelight flickering on the ground outside the window betrayed that anyone was inside. But Shinta could hear voices murmuring on the wind that had begun to blow. It had been two days since his mother had last spoken, she was too weak to do much more than lay with her eyes closed. Hoping she was awake, Shinta ran toward the door and yanked it open. The report made his brother look up sharply. His father hurried up and stepped past him, paused in the doorway.

Shinichi rose, "Tou-chan, I just wanted to hear her voice. I know I should've been trying to get the dinner ready..."

"Don't worry, you've done well looking after your Mother. Shinta can help me get the food ready", Tou-chan glanced over and Shinta finally slid the door closed and came closer. Patting Shin-nii on the shoulder, he walked over to the candle flickering on the table and moved around the room, lighting the others. By the time he was done, the room was full of warm light, the shadows unable to intrude.

The next morning, Shinta woke abruptly. The candles had all gone out, and even though his body was telling him it was morning, it still looked like night outside. He wondered what had wakened him and quickly realized that wetness was creeping along his futon. Patting himself, Shinta realized that he was dry, and frowned in confusion. He pushed the covers away and came onto his knees. Leaning over he poked his brother.

Shinichi sighed, but didn't move.

"Shin-nii, wake up, you're wetting the bed," Shinta whispered. Shaking his brother's shoulder harder still didn't garner a response, and Shinta decided to get up and find a candle.

Striking the match, he lit the candle and brought it over to where his brother lay. His face was pale and sweaty. Shinta stared for a moment, as though he were growing roots, he couldn't move. In the next moment, he set down the candle and went to the back corner where his father lay.

"Tou-chan, wake up. There's something wrong with Shin-nii," Shinta said. Although it took him longer than he normally would, Tou-chan sat up and scrubbed a hand over his eyes for a few moments.

"Alright, Shinta. Light some candles for me, please. And then get some of the boiled water for your mother to drink."

"Hai", Shinta stood up quickly, lighting the candles and opening one of the windows, before he went to the bucket to get the water for his mother. Slowly approaching her so the water wouldn't spill, he knelt by her head and placed the cup down gently.

"Ofukuro", he called out. Shinta touched her shoulder where it peeked above the blanket. She didn't stir. He called her name again and shook her shoulder hard. Her face was still and Shinta realized that she wasn't moving. He scrambled back and knocked over the cup of water. It spread wetting the pillow and the blanket. His mother still didn't stir. Shinta huddled near the wall silently, until the fluttering of the candle in the breeze stole his attention away from his mother's face. Looking up, he saw that it had started to rain outside. He stared outside, mesmerized, until his father came over.

"Shinta, your brother is quite ill, I think you..." he stopped, his words arrested by the look on his son's face. Looking down he paused only a moment to glance at his wife's face before stepping around her futon and scooping Shinta off the floor.

"Come along, Shinta. We have some places we need to visit," he said, moving quickly about the room, collecting their hats and sandals. Setting Shinta down by the door, Tou-chan smiled wanly at him and stoked his hair. Tying on Shinta's hat and his own, he pushed Shinta out the door first.

Looking inside for only a brief moment, he sighed and slid the door shut.

In the days since his father had brought him to stay with Ostune-san and the village chief, Shinta had hardly seen his father. Occasionally, he glimpsed a wisp of red hair as it disappeared into some villager's house, but no more than a glimpse was had. More of the villagers were falling ill every day, until it seemed only a handful of people were lucky enough to not be sick.

This morning, Shinta had thought he'd heard his father's voice echoing through the mostly empty house and had rushed outside.

"Shinta! Come inside at once", Otsune scolded him sharply, but Shinta stood still, arrested by the changes in the village before him. Where once had stood at least twenty houses, now there were only eight. The others were knocked to the ground into piles of stones and debris.

Turning to Otsune-san, Shinta asked, "What happened? Where did everyone go?"

"Come inside", she said again, coming out to pull him in by an arm. She slid the door shut firmly and kneeled down to look at him directly.

"They've all taken ill, Shinta, and the illness was in their houses too", she paused and spoke quieter, "they're ill and must be prepared for their funerals."

Shinta looked at the ground, "Ofukuro and Shin-nii too?"

Otsune sighed before answering, "Yes."