A/N: Forgive the long wait, everyone. My summer has been very busy. Ch. 03 of Salt Skin was certainly a difficult one to write. Much of this chapter involves my own assumptions of what may have happened during Noodle's year-long visit to Japan, so certain aspects might seem outlandish. I try to stick to the original plot as best as possible.
I really enjoyed working on this part of the story. It gave me a chance to be creative with Noodle's background. She's a highly complex, interesting character, who I find to be more and more fascinating as I craft my own take of her personality and past. I'll definitely try to jump into Ch. 04 when time allows it... I appreciate all of your encouraging reviews thus far. I promise to conjure some good 2D and Noodle moments in the upcoming chapters.
A reminder that my translations from Japanese to English may not be entirely accurate. Keep in mind again also that I do not support the pairing of 2D and Noodle whilst in Phases 1 and 2, however I believe that their relationship grows from there.
(For further copyright and story info, please see the A/N in Salt Skin's Prequel.)
Here are some definitions of foreign words you may come across while reading:
Noren (A Japanese doorway Curtain).
Kotatsu (a low, wooden table frame covered by a futon).
Nijusan (The Japanese word for the number 23. This is the name I decided Noodle might have possessed before being renamed by her band mates).
Sotoba (a separate wooden board on a stand behind or next to a Japanese grave).
Please enjoy reading and thank you!
-Ch. 03-
October 14th, 2003
The buildings touched the sky. She stared up at them with esteem and a bit of intimidation.
Her trek had been long and her feet had grown weary. The soles of her shoes were nearly worn and she hadn't the funds to purchase new ones. Her share of the Gorillaz income was decreasing and she wasn't sure what she would do if it ran out. She refused to leave Japan however until her journey was fulfilled.
The streets had been unkind to her. Or rather, had failed to provide her with the essential evidence to endow her with truth. But the desire to somehow discover the unknown drove her onward; down alleyways, into ancient shrines, across open crop fields, and up dusty roads into the bright lights of cities.
She had initially thought that surely the larger metropolises of Japan would harbor some indication to light her darkened path. But Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka had given her nothing more than hundreds of yakisoba meals and plentiful stays at capsule hotels.
There was one lead, however, and one lead alone that gave her incentive to journey onward: Her continuous visions of military bases and the dreams of a respectful figure placing her in the crate that had been sent to Murdoc Niccals. Who had that person been and what had she been involved with before her memory had overlapped itself into the life of Gorillaz?
The urge to know pressed her curiosity foreword, and the further she went, the clearer her mind became.
One day while mapping out her next route in Tokyo, which she planned would take her to the Harajuku district, an older woman had perceived her from across a bustling crowd of tourists. At first Noodle hadn't noticed the woman's gaze. But soon, the elder was scuffling along the sidewalk towards her.
The young guitarist, taken aback, stood from her seat on the curbside as the woman looked her up and down.
"Shitsurei shimashita, Go reijō." (Translation: "Excuse me, young lady.")
Noodle bowed her head.
"Anata ga aisuru, tohō ni kureta hyōjō. Anata wa nin'i no herupu ga hitsuyōdesu ka?" (Translation: "You look lost, dear. Do you need any help?")
Noods shook her head. "Arigatō, nai. Watashi wa daijōbudesu." (Translation: Thank you, but no. I'm alright.")
The old woman nodded. "Sate sate, kodomo." (Translation: "Alright, child.")
As the elderly woman turned to walk away, she paused. Her saggy eyes glanced upward at the distant Tokyo Tower. She smiled and turned back to Noodle. "Sore wa sutekina ichi-nichidesu. Tō kara machi no utsukushii keshiki ga arimasu. Moshi kyōmi ga arunara, sore wa muryō no tsuā no tame ni kono shūmatsu ippan kōkaidesu." (Translation: "It's a lovely day. There's a beautiful view of the city from the tower. It's open to the public for free tours this weekend if you're interested.")
Noodle cocked her head. Although she cared very little about paying a visit to the tower, she didn't want to disrespect the woman's kind suggestion. She grinned and acted interested. "Honma-ni?" (Translation: "Really?")
The woman nodded, but half way through her gesture she slowed herself and came a bit closer to the preteen. "Kodomo wa, watashi ga motomeru koto ga dekiru baai. Naze anata no oya nashide ie kara kore made no tokorodesu?" (Translation: "Child, if I may ask. Why are you so far from home without your parents?")
Noodle grew confused. Who was to say she wasn't native to the city? "E eto... ... . Watashi wa jitaku kara tōku de wa nai yo. Watashi wa, Tōkyō de koko de okusama ga sunde imasu." (Translation: "Um….I'm not far from home. I live here in Tokyo, ma'am.") She lied.
The wise old woman lowered her brow, gazing into Noodle's face. "Sonogo, oyurushi, aisuru. Sore wa anata ga Ōsaka no chiiki ni kyōtsū no hōgen o motte iru yō ni mieru dake no kotodesu. Watashi jishin wa soko kara ōku no yūjin ga atta." (Translation: "Pardon me then, dear. It's just that you seem to have a dialect common to the Osaka region. I myself have had many friends from there.")
The younger girl stepped forward a bit; her breath catching in her throat. Osaka? … Somehow the very mentioning of the city made her gut churn with familiarity. She'd traveled and searched there many times, but perhaps she hadn't been looking for the right things. Was this the clue she'd been waiting for?
Without further delay, she bowed her upper body so far down that she could have touched her toes. "Arigatō! Son'nani arigatō!" (Translation: Thank you! Thank you so much!")
Before the woman could respond, Noodle was off in a sprint into the crowd. Confused, she watched her disappear. "Saikin no wakamono." (Translation: "Kids these days.")
The guitarist soon found herself on the next train out of Tokyo. And within a couple hours, she arrived in Osaka.
Standing at the train station gazing out at the landscape of the city, Noodle thought that perhaps the scenery would start to become recognizable. But to her dismay, everything looked just as large and forbidding to her as it had the several times she'd been there before.
She grimaced and sat down on a bench to count her money and feed her chirping Tamagotchi pet. The digital creature was always hungry… It had become a nuisance, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to let it die.
The funds she had in her pocket were officially deteriorating. She had enough money for train fair, a few more meals, and one more stay in a hotel. What was she to do after that?
She got up and pushed her way through the crowds of people, on her own and unsure of her surroundings.
Had this journey been a mistake?
It was in times such as these when she felt so alone that she often brought her thoughts to her ex-band mates and where they might be at that moment. It had been nearly a year since she'd left Los Angeles, venturing to her native land in search of the answers to her scratched out past. At first she had been fully confident in her quest, but as the months passed by without any luck, she began to wonder what she would do if she didn't succeed. She no longer wanted to live a tentative life….. The light at the end of the tunnel was so close, if only she had some sort of indication that Osaka would truly shed light upon her questions.
She did what she assumed would be the most valid course of action: she spoke out loud.
Approaching several groups of Osaka-bred individuals, she began inquiring about her appearances and if anyone knew of a family that resembled her mannerisms or features.
It shouldn't have been a surprise that younger folks pointed out her resemblance to the little guitarist from that British band that had become popular in Japan a year or two prior.
Noodle would laugh their comments off and quickly flee. As much as she didn't like to disregard fans, this was no time to focus on stardom. She wasn't here for Gorillaz, she was here for herself.
She pressed on, trying to focus more on the older generation; People who wouldn't know of her fame and instead pick out the traits she hoped she harbored in comparison to a family that lived in the area.
No one knew a thing. Some didn't even pay her a second glance.
It became a heartache, continuously asking and gaining no feedback. It got to the point where she was amongst a large throng of people, unable to get any of their attention.
"Sumimasen ga..." (Translation: "Excuse me…") "E eto... Oyurushi?" (Translation: "Um…Pardon me?") "Kudasai, watashi wa gimon o motte iru!" (Translation: Please, I have a question!") "Daredesu ka?..." (Translation: "Anyone?...")
After hours of unremitted questioning, Noodle finally gave up. Even if there was a family in Osaka she was related to, it was too large a conurbation to presume that someone would distinguish her from the hundreds of other people.
The backpack and guitar case she carried with her was beginning to weigh her down. Her pace through the masses began to lessen in haste. Soon, she was watching the ground, dragging her feet.
Tired, she stopped in the middle of a street. "Naze watashi mo shiyou to shite imasu?..." (Translation: Why am I even trying?...") She asked herself aloud, sighing heavily.
Her slow pace led her back to the train station and before long she found herself returning to Tokyo; once again a failure in her attempts to understand her past.
It wasn't long after she disembarked the station that a delicious scent greeted her nose.
Still feeling discouraged, she raised her head to find herself standing in front of a little restaurant nestled at the entrance of an open-air marketplace.
She felt her mouth water… She hadn't eaten since the night before; trying to preserve what little money she had left. But upon gaining nothing after an entire day of search, all she could think of to alleviate herself was a wholesome meal.
She nearly decided to find a different place; to pass by the dingy-looking restaurant in front of her. But the aromas emerging from the building were too enticing and her stomach escorted her in.
Upon entering through the noren, she discovered that the steamed fish shop was quite crowded; it was a struggle to get to a table through the lines of people waiting to be served.
When at last she seated herself, she stretched her neck in an attempt to see what the special of the day was….However, there were too many free-roaming heads in the way of the menu on the wall.
She slid her guitar case and backup under her feet and kept her head low as a group of school girls walked in.
They appeared to be her age. Noodle watched them talk and laugh amongst each other, their uniforms finely pressed and their little trinkets sparkling off the ends of their cell phones.
For a brief moment, Noods wondered to herself what it would have been like had she never been separated from her life in Japan. Perhaps she too would be wearing a school uniform, worrying about love letters and studies, hanging out with friends, and choosing snacks at the local mart.
Could there still be a life like that waiting for her here?
It seemed so surreal; the possibility of normality.
As she sat there waiting for service, she couldn't help overhearing the girls' conversation…..
"Soshite, nani o eyou to shite iru?" (Translation: "And what are you going to get?")
"Watashi wa shiranai, watashi wa kinō - o tabeta..." (Translation: "I don't know, I ate the - yesterday…"
"Futatabi? Hontōni?" (Translation: "Again? Really?")
"Anata ga jūryō o eru tsumorida!" (Translation: You're going to gain weight!")
All of a sudden, Noodle's heart hastened in pace. What had they just said? She glanced up a bit. The girls were standing on their tip toes trying to see the menu.
"Ichi-nichi no tokubetsu to wa nanidesu ka?" (Translation: What is the special of the day?") One of them asked another.
"Sore wa, futatabi umi - no kotode wa arimasen." (Translation: "Its ocean - again, isn't it."
Noodle grasped the edge of her shirt. She wanted to ask them what they were saying, but when she tried to raise her voice, she had trouble emitting any sound. "N-nani?" (Translation: "Wh-what?")
It wasn't long before the girls were moving up in the line towards the front. Noodle, having still not understood them, pushed herself to her feet quickly. What was it? What was it that made her gut churn and her legs feel weak? "Sumimasen, onegai shimasu!" (Translation: "Excuse me, please!") She called out.
Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, Noodle's small frame ran right into a waiter who had been carrying a tray of food. The shattering of glass and the waiter's stunned reaction caused everyone's head to turn.
Noodle's heart was racing. She stared down at the mess on the floor. The mess of…..
Ocean bacon?
The world stood still.
"Umi…. bēkon?" (Translation: Ocean…bacon?") She asked out loud.
Glancing up, she saw the menu in the front. The special of the day: Ocean Bacon.
The school girls huddled together as one whispered: "Watashi-tachi no umi no bēkon de wa nai yoi koto." (Translation: Good thing that wasn't our ocean bacon."
Noodle looked back at the waiter, who was now trying to clean up the scattered food. "Ā, iya, nai umi no bēkon!" (Translation: "Oh no, the ocean bacon!")
Someone slammed a plate down onto the kitchen counter at the front of the restaurant; a bell was rung shortly after. "Umi bēkon! Umi no bēkon no izure ka no junban!" (Translation: "Ocean bacon! One order of ocean bacon!")
There was a serge of realization; a rush of blood. Noodle's eyes widened and she placed both hands over her flushed cheeks. Everything….She remembered everything!
Just then, a man ran out from the back room wearing a dirty apron. "Nani ga okotta no ka?" (Translation: "What has happened?")
He froze when his eyes met the small guitarist's.
Noodle let out a short gasp, "Kyuzo….sensai…."
The chef dropped a soup spoon he was holding and it made a loud clunk on the floor. "Nijusan."
As the room began to creak from the silence, Kyuzo straightened his expression. He first directed his words towards the waiter and then to the rest of the customers: "Baka! Sono konran o kurīn'appu! Dare mo ga, junban ni susunde kudasai." (Translation: Idiot! Clean that mess up! Everyone, please continue to order.")
Noodle's hands were shaking with anticipation. As the chef turned to re-enter the back room, he looked back over his shoulder and motioned for her to follow.
She nodded, grabbing her things quickly and pushing her way through the crowd; everyone staring at her as she did so.
After passing through a busy kitchen and gliding down a flight of stairs, the room Noodle found herself in was homey. Pictures hung on the walls and a kotatsu table inhabited the middle of the quarters.
She was nervous, but tried to speak as formally as possible. "Kore wa... anata no ie?" (Translation: "This is….your home?")
"Sore wa imadesu." (Translation: "It is now.") The man replied.
A clock ticked in the background.
As Noodle searched her mind, she laughed a bit under her breath. Everything she had questioned, everything that had seemed blurry to her was suddenly so clear. She could remember things she hadn't even imaged…. And it was all compiling in her mind at an alarming rate.
She sat on her knees on one of the pillows, her hands neatly folded in her lap. When she looked up at the man who had been apart of her life years before, she couldn't help but feel a vast amount of gratitude towards him. "Watashi wa mada konran shite iruga, watashi wa jibun jishin no yori kakujitsu kanjita koto ga nai… Kyuzo-sensai." (Translation: "Although I am still confused, I've never felt more sure of myself…. Teacher Kyuzo."
He adjusted his glasses and set a cup of tea down in front of her. "This must be very overwhelming for you."
English? The words were as lucid to her as Japanese.
"Watashi wa eigo o rikai dekimasu ka?" (Translation: "I can understand English?")
"You can also speak it….As well as many other idioms beyond your native tongue."
She sat still for a moment before placing a hand over her mouth in disbelief. "I…can?"
The English words emerged from her voice smoothly; as if she'd been fluent in the language for years.
Kyuzo chuckled for a moment before re-maintaining his serious composure. "Nijusan….dear child, I won't lie, I am happy to see you again. You've grown so; a young lady sits before me. But why have you returned to Japan? I know all too well of your fulfilling life across seas. You've met wonderful people who have taken care of you. Why would you come in search of this depressing life?"
Depressing? Noodle felt anything but depression as she glanced around the room.
"Nijusan…that was my name, wasn't it? Or rather…my number." She glanced up at the teacher, who nodded briefly. She continued: "Kyuzo-sensai, I have met good people who have tended to me. But my life has been far from gratifying…. I've been lost in my own mind for so long, unable to recollect anything from my past. Who I was or where I came from has been a mystery to me….. I needed to find you; to find the answers; in order to recover this thing you refer to as a fulfilling life."
Kyuzo sighed heavily, staring at the tea Noodle hadn't touched. "I was afraid that one day you would grow curious of your missing memories and come in search of me. I hoped that you wouldn't, but it's been your right to know where you come from and who you truly are….. It was unfair of me to take those things away from you, and for that I ask for your forgiveness. However, you must understand that it was for your own good at the time."
Noodle, although having now completely remembered her past, sat unsure of what Kyuzo spoke of. The entire event that led up to her loss of memories was extremely vague to her. "What happened….that night?"
Kyuzo's face wrinkled: His age was now more visible in the light of the room. "It seems like a blur to me now as well….. But that's simply because I choose not to remember." He looked up at Noodle with sad eyes behind his glasses. "You're the only one left."
Noodle felt confused by his statement, but as she sat and recalled the many dreams she'd had of gun fire and bloodshed, she felt a lump form in her throat. Suddenly she remembered the children she'd at one time called her brothers and sisters; the 22 other individuals, beside herself, who had been apart of a private military project run by Kyuzo and many other note-worthy personnel. Each of their faces flashed through her mind, and as they did so, she had to blink away the urge to cry. Kyuzo hadn't raised her to be weak, and she wasn't about to show her resurfaced sorrow in front of him.
However, he too looked as though he had to shun away the cheerless emotions building within him.
After a few minutes of silence, the guitarist spoke up, her voice cracking. "But why? …..Why did that have to happen? I don't understand….."
"The Japanese government pulled the plug on our project. Each of you were so well-equipped and superior for your age, in not only personalized talent, but highly complex combat skills. It could have only taken one of you to become a threat to civilization, had you decided to rebel from our directive. It was too much of a risk, and so it was decided to end the project and terminate each of you. One evening, we were told to conjugate the 23 children. You were to stand tall and unafraid as the government men disposed of you, one by one. I fought for your lives, but they turned me away each time I begged to change the circumstances. I'd come up with an advanced technology that could erase your memories and enable you to live healthy and normal lives. But the government was too afraid that one of you might somehow regain the information you'd been taught. There was nothing I could do."
Again, Noodle fought back tears. "….Why wasn't I killed then? ….Why was I the only one they spared?"
"You weren't." Kyuzo lowered his head. "I was only able to save you. It was a heartbreak that I'll never recover from; having to only choose one. You were all like my children…. But you, out of the rest, had the most potential in gaining an ordinary life away from military confinement. You had a spark in you; an inspiring prospective for greatness. I took you away that night. I hid you from them and got you to an airport, sending you to a place where I knew you would be able to exercise your greatest gift."
"…The musical sense." She spoke to herself, realizing just how profoundly immense her knowledge of music truly was.
Kyuzo put on a partial smile. "I should have known that you would outsmart the memory-erasing technology eventually. You were always so bright; perhaps it was foolish of me to create an unlocking key word."
Though she tried to hide it, the heart wrenching realization of all her truths overwhelmed young Noodle to the point that she asked to be excused for a moment to the restroom.
Once safely locked inside the lavatory, Noodle threw a hand over her mouth and shut her eyes tightly, leaning over the sink. She struggled to fight back a few whimpers of anguish. If Kyuzo knew she was crying, she would feel ashamed.
It was no wonder that her memory wouldn't let her forget, even when everything had supposedly been erased. The visions which had haunted her for years had all been real, and a part of her had always kept those realities looming in the depths of her subconscious.
During this bleak moment in the restroom, something inside Noodle wished she hadn't remembered any of it at all. She tried to think of something…anything to bring her mind out of the dark:
2D tripping over one of the microphone cords during rehearsal.
She emitted a quiet laugh, looking up at her reflection in the mirror hanging above the sink.
She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and reminisced on how silly she would feel if Murdoc were to find her like this. She could hear his cackling voice: "Stop pissing out your eyes and suck it up, then! You're guna sink the place, and if we're going to relive that bloody Titanic movie, at least let me grab me water wings."
Again, she laughed, hugging her arms around herself to keep the chills off her skin.
She envisioned for a moment Russel's big arms surrounding her, making her feel safe.
These things brought her back to a level intellect.
After a few minutes of collecting herself, she returned to the other room and sat back down in front of her mentor.
She breathed in and out, pushing back her mourning enough to smile at him.
This man, to her, was like her father.
"What will you do, Nijusan? Now that you remember." Kyuzo asked, disregarding her 10 minute retreat to the restroom.
"Noodle." She glanced upward into his eyes.
"Eh?"
"They call me Noodle." She grinned, fondly referencing her times with Gorillaz.
Kyuzo couldn't help but shake his head. "How …creative of them."
"An impractical name. But I've grown affectionate towards it. ….It's much better than a number."
He nodded.
"I understand, Kyuzo-sensai. They pushed you out of the military and you now live the life you do in order to avoid them. In respect to this, I too will avoid the Japanese government. I know you've gone through a lot in order to conceal me. For this, I thank you with all my heart."
"Child, I know you will do everything in your power to steer away from them. However, they've never stopped questioning what became of you. Naturally, the government knows you survived the elimination. They were sent to dispose of all 23 children, not just 22. Their mission was never fulfilled due to this, and so they've never stopped searching for you."
Noodle bit her lip nervously. "How has my musical fame not lured them to me?"
"I imagine they have not realized it is you. However, they may know very well who you are and simply haven't been able to take action. You do live under the watchful eye of another worldly government. It becomes a hardship for one nation to invade another just to retrieve one child."
Things were quiet for a moment. Kyuzo sipped on his tea.
"This is why," He continued, "it's not entirely safe for you to visit me here. They've surely been tracking your movements across Japan for quite some time."
Noodle felt no fear in the government, but the thought that she wasn't safe in her own country ignited anger in her. Instead of arguing her case however, she nodded in agreement to Kyuzo's words. As much as she wanted to appose his warning, it wasn't only her safety at risk, but his as well that she had to consider.
As the room settled once again, some final thoughts drifted through Noodle's flourishing mind.
"Kyuzo-sensai…." She began. He looked across the table at her. "There's one last thing I've been curious about. Though I recollect all of my times with you and the military project, I still can't recall my birth parents…or my life before the military."
He studied her with a stern face. She looked eager, but also fearful.
"Forgive me, Nijusan. Your birth parents are no longer living. When the project first began, we purposely chose 23 orphaned brood. When I first met you, you were a mere toddler. You can't remember anything beyond your military years because there wasn't much outside of them."
Noodle shouldn't have felt sad at that moment. To ache for people she had no memories of was obscure. But she found herself choking up, realizing just how much she had been hoping there was a family for her out there….a real family, with blood relation.
Kyuzo placed his now empty cup to the side of the table.
"….Was there…any information about me at all? Where I was born, who my mother and father were?" She pressed further.
The mentor stood slowly and walked over to a file cabinet sitting in an open office. When he returned, he set a manila envelop in front of her.
She stared at it and then back at him.
"This was the only recorded orientation of your family the orphanage possessed." He straightened his glasses.
She carefully opened the envelop and pulled out a charred-looking newspaper. There was scratched out kanji and missing parts of paragraphs, but one thing stood out clearly in bold print.
"Family lost in Osaka fire: One survivor." She read out loud.
Kyuzo's eyes lowered.
"Osaka…. So I am from there."
As Noodle tilted the envelop down to push the paper back in, a tiny wrinkled note fell out. She unfolded it to reveal words and numbers.
"That is the address of the cemetery your family rests at." Kyuzo announced.
She gazed at the small hand-written note, yearning to know more.
He cleared his throat suddenly, causing her to jump. "I'm sure they would love for you to visit them." His raspy voice spoke softly.
Noodle held the piece of paper tightly in her hands. Finally, she thought. Finally.
October 15th 2003
With a heavy sigh, Noodle stepped off the city bus.
With her backup and guitar case well assembled on her shoulders, she glanced down at the address in her hands and then focused her youthful eyes on a stone sign outside a gated hillside.
"Kore ga soredesu." (Translation: "This is it.") She spoke quietly to herself as she bowed and then proceeded through the entrance.
Inside was a cobble path that weaved around heavy stone monuments; wooden sotobas with names etched on them scattered the scenery.
She swallowed hard and walked forward, reading each sotoba as she went. Some monuments had the names engraved in stone rather than on the wooden planks.
At last, her eyes caught the names of the two people she had at one time known, though her memory wouldn't allow her the privilege of commemoration.
She stood awkwardly at the grave for a few minutes, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
It wasn't long before her eyes caught a glimpse of something sticking out from behind the monument.
She knelt down and reached for it carefully.
What she pulled out from the dirt was a very old, scratched up photo…..A piece of her past that someone had left there long ago; perhaps a distant relative, or someone her family had known.
The photo held the endearing image of two young people; her parents; sitting on a sea shore with a small child in-between them pointing towards the camera.
Noodle's hair fell in front of her eyes.
That child was her.
When she shook her bangs back, she had fought off tears and replaced them with a grin. "Okāsan, Otōsan." (Translation: "Mom, Dad.") "Sore wa anata o mite yoi kotoda." (Translation: "It's good to see you.")
Still holding the photo, she stood back up.
The breeze hit her face as she imaged this must have been the most recent photograph of her and her parents before they were taken from her by the fire.
They looked happy.
She wanted so badly to remember them, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't.
That was alright though. The photograph served as closure for her. She had truly lived a normal life at one time, and although she longed to know what that normal life had been like, the truth was she now led a very un-normal life for good reasons. She was able to accept that now.
She pulled out from her pocket a recent photo of Kyuzo and herself, taken before she had left Tokyo the day prior.
She held the two photographs up next to each other and then felt as though something was missing.
She hated to admit it openly, but the family portrait she held up for herself felt very empty without the face of Murdoc Niccals included. For that matter, Stuart Pot and Russel Hobbs were missing as well. She felt the urge to obtain a proper portrait of her band mates to place alongside the others.
It was something she'd always known, but hadn't quite seen the imperativeness of until now: She already had a family. Somehow she knew that her birth parents would be proud and happy for her; the thought of which made her want to achieve great things in their honor.
She placed both photos side by side in her backpack and then took a deep breath. Whatever she did from that moment on would be for the sake of her truest mission in life; the mission she had unfortunately forgotten until regaining her memories. To create true, enriching, and inspirational music for the world, to illuminate and ignite that spark in her that Kyuzo had envisioned and saved, and to keep living as earnestly as possible in respect for her late parents, who would continue to prosper through her.
There was quite a lot weighing on her small shoulders, she realized. But the sense of responsibility towards these things empowered her. They made her want to live.
She needed to find her band again; to pull them back together. They needed her just as much as she needed them.
Noodle placed a hand on her parent's monument and closed her eyes.
"Watashi ni kōun o inorimasu." (Translation: "Wish me luck.")
[End Ch. 03]
/TBC/