Mother, where are you today?
You took a piece of me the day you went away.
Her mother loved the snow. She remembers being cradled in her mother's arms, her head tucked beneath her mother's chin as they watched the gentle December showers. She remembers the feel of her mother's lips on her tiny hands, the burning sensation above her brows where her mother kissed her forehead.
No recollection, or the smell of your perfume.
I took a piece of you the day I left the womb.
Her wife's slender hands were tucked in the crook of her elbow as they walked through the Chicago park district. Their daughters were a little further ahead of their parents, dancing and playing in the snow as if they were children once more. She'd left the task of breaking in the newbie to her crew, intent on spending her free time with her family.
The day I left the womb.
Her mother was always a constant thought in her mind. No matter how hard she tried to empty her mind of the woman who abandoned her, it would always come back. Everytime she looked in the mirror, she would see her mother's reflection, and her father's eyes.
Father, put your needles down.
The best thing for you is to leave this awful town.
Pretty soon, you'll have kids to feed.
Her mother's gentle laughter would still ring in her mind when she couldn't sleep. Her mother's gentle caress would haunt her in her dreams. Like a child, she would turn in those arms that cradled her so delicately, and steadily hope it was her mother's arms that fought away the demons in her mind.
If you see mother, tell her I can sing,
Please don't worry, I am doing fine.
You're much too busy to even find the time.
When she was seven, her mother's presence had began to slowly wither away. Her mother would leave her alone for hours in their big, lonely mansion, and not return for hours, if she returned at all. When she did see her mother, she would be passed out on the couch, reeking of cigars and alcohol, her arms littered with small puncture holes, and bruises on her slender neck.
So use your chemicals, and take this to your grave.
She tightened her grip on her wife's body, and placed a gentle kiss on top of her chestnut-golden tresses. One day, after two years of being neglected by the woman who sacrificed everything for her, her mother once more, cradled her in her arms and kissed her above her brows. It was raining that day, and her mother used her only coat to wrap it around Natsuki's tiny, shivering form.
Her mother's long hair was plastered to her beautiful face, her grey eyes filled with a turmoil a child that age would never understand. Natsuki had known her mother wasn't quite herself. She had lost weight, her cheekbones were more prominent than they should have been, and her arms shook as she struggled with the weight of her only child in her arms.
Natsuki remembers asking her mother where they were going as she laid her head on her mother's bony shoulder. Her mother had given her a weak, but stunning smile, and whispered to her only child, the words that changed her life. To meet your father.
Her father was nothing she expected, yet at the same time, everything. A woman with unique, androgynous beauty, slender but strong, and the same bright green eyes her daughter possessed. After a bout of arguing her mother had turned to her daughter, eyes empty and vacant before she ultimately turned and fled. That was the last time Natsuki had seen her mother.
The girl you left, is a woman you didn't raise.
Shizuru could sense her wife was troubled, and stopped. She twirled herself around to Natsuki's front and peered up at her through long, blonde lashes. "What troubles you, my love?"
Natsuki briefly looked away, but a slender thumb and finger forced her to meet lovely amber eyes. "My mother loved the snow." She admitted softly, quietly.
Shizuru's eyes softened. She knew her wife's mother was a touchy subject. Natsuki rarely spoke of her during their youth. Shizuru's never pressed the matter. She felt Natsuki should talk about her mother when she was ready.
"My name means, "Summer Child" so I never really understood why she named me 'Natsuki." The cobalt-haired beauty said with a watery chuckle.
Shizuru leaned up on her toes and kissed her wife gently on her lips. There had been a time where she had been taller, but a growth spurt had changed that years ago. Shizuru had never really known her mother. She died when she was only days old, and her father refused to speak of her. There were few times he did, but it was with anger in his voice and hatred in his eyes.
"What was she like?" Shizuru asked carefully, tugging on the ends of her wife's raven hair softly. Her beautiful eyes darted to the spot where their daughters were taking selfies near an old oak tree before returning to lovely green.
Natsuki felt a smile come to her lips. She didn't hate her mother. How could she? She had brought her into this world. Her mother was a part of her.
"She was so very pretty." Natsuki began softly. "She wasn't very tall, but she was slender and had such elegant bone structure. Her hair was as dark as mine, and her eyes were such a stormy grey, but they were as clear as day. She was woefully intelligent, a young scientist with a bright future ahead of her. Too young to be a mother, but not as young as we were.
She was funny. She liked to make jokes and do silly things to humor me. I had always loved hearing her laugh. It was soft, and airy, and reminded me of bells. She had a tattoo on the back of her neck of a withered old cherry blossom tree. I thought it was the prettiest thing in the world. I would always trace it with my fingertips, and she would gently grab my hand and kiss my knuckles, claiming the action tickled.
"She loved animals, especially wolves. She had pictures of them everywhere. She loved to paint them, study them, and read about them. I couldn't count how many times she read me Silver and the Prince, or had us watch Wolf's Rain or Balto." Natsuki said, her voice and eyes distant.
"She sounds like a brilliant mother," Shizuru cooed softly.
"She was." Natsuki replied as she shook her head, as if to clear her mind of the woman who had brought her so much pain, but so much happiness.
Shizuru suddenly let out a low gasp and placed a well-manicured hand on her swollen belly.
"What's wrong?" Natsuki asked worriedly.
Shizuru's lovely lips curved into a beaming, radiant smile. "Namiko has grown restless these past few weeks. Especially when you are near."
"She's strong," the taller woman says with a breathless giggle, "looks like we have a little soldier on the way."
"She'll be a force to be reckoned with. Just like her father." Shizuru teased, beckoning their eldest children over.
The energetic twins bounded over with wide smiles, breathless from their game of tag. Keira's hair was mussed, as if someone had given her quite a noogie, and her sister's clothes were drenched with snow. "Yes, mother?" They said in unison.
"Your baby sister is awake and as restless as ever." Natsuki explained, flicking her eldest daughter's bangs away from her eyes.
With squeals of delight, the twins placed their hands on top of their mother's as she directed them to the places in which the little girl pressed forward. Kaiya's eyes grew wet and shiny as she felt pressure on her palm. "Here," she whispered to her elder sister.
Keira grabbed her sister's other hand with her unoccupied one as they played with their unborn sister's fingers. Natsuki leaned over and kissed the mother of her children on her cheek, gathering her family into her arms and silently thanking her goddess for them.
In the middle of the park, the family stood, huddled together in a circle of love and happiness. Snow gently fell from the dark skies, cool winds ruffling their long hair.
Unknown to the emotional family, in the protection of the shadows casted by the old, dying trees, a figure sits huddled, watching with sinister grey eyes. Features hidden by the shadow casted by the black hood pulled over their, the figure smiles malevolently, twirling a stiletto in their slender white hands.
Grey eyes lock onto the woman with hair the color of honey and gold, and a pale tongue sneaks out and runs over red lips.
Shizuru, my dear, the figure whispers internally, we meet again, my love. The wind began to pick up, sending dead leaves and debris into the air, the figure was gone in the blink of an eye, as if they were never there to begin with.
SMOKE/MIRRORS
Across the sea, Tokyo, Japan.
A woman was leaning against the curtains overhanging a massive, glass window. Her beautiful face was illuminated by the light of the full moon, grey eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Her long black hair was swept over one shoulder, roped into a stylish braid. She was clad in a beautiful silk kimono with intricate patterns sewn into the fine material.
She counted the rain-drops on the window as she observed the serene atmosphere. Her breath fogged up the window, and she raised a delicate finger to draw random shapes in the mist. The mansion was relatively quiet, only disrupted by her husband's soft snores. He was resting peacefully in their king sized bed, his blonde hair splayed over the pillow like spilled paint.
She couldn't sleep. Being in his arms sometimes made her feel caged and hot. His chest was broad and muscular, much too firm to consider comfortable to lay against. His kisses were gentle, but she found the stubble on his face somewhat annoying.
Did she love him?
Perhaps, perhaps not. He was a brilliant man, and an excellent father. But he was missing something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Her youngest daughter, Alyssa, absolutely adored him. He treated her like the princess she always wanted to be. She bit her lip as he began to awaken, his beefy hands searching the cold sheets for the warmth of her body. She sighed once more as she watched the rain fall onto the industrial city.
It was always in the winter when she missed her Summer Child the most.
SMOKE/MIRRORS
Shizuru knew she would follow Natsuki anywhere. They were bound together forever by their love, their pain, their happiness, and their children. After a day wandering the Windy City, they returned to their penthouse home for the night. Skimmer, now going by her birth-name, Skylar, was staying with Natsuki's squad for the time-being.
Natsuki had fallen asleep during a movie Shizuru insisted they watch. Her wife's long, silken tresses were spread all over her pale legs, her mouth slightly parted as she dreamed. She looked innocent and pure, seven years old once more.
Shizuru.
Natsuki's father rarely addressed her directly. But the one time she did, Shizuru could never forget it. She had been sitting on the couch in Regan's loft, Natsuki slumbering peacefully in her lap much like she was now. She remembered looking up into intense green eyes as she threading her fingers through tangled raven locks.
Why aren't you home?
Regan had quizzed her. She wasn't angry or annoyed, only curious. It had taken all of Shizuru's willpower to not burst into tears right then and there. Her internal struggle was more like a war. She could still feel her father's fists beat down on her, the weight of his expectations on her shoulders.
She is my home.
She told the elder Kruger. Regan didn't reply for long moments, she simply stared at the beautiful woman who held her daughter in her arms like precious gold, or a newborn child. She gave a half-smile, complete with a set of charming indentions in her cheeks.
Take care of her. She'll need you.
I will.
The more times Shizuru replayed that conversation in her head, the more times it sounded like a good-bye.
SMOKE/MIRRORS
Things are becoming more and more complicated as well as clear. Next time, a deeper look into their painful pasts, and the arrival of someone quite unexpected. Chapter song inspired by Tupac's Dear Mama, Escape the Fate's The Day I Left the Womb, and Les Friction's String Theory.