Additional Tags: Discussion of racism

Chapter Four - Step One

They weren't there when Ken woke up. There were boxes, envelopes, the children's things, and baby supplies, but no parents.

Ken did cry, and this time Osamu had his arms free and hugged him, which was worse because Osamu didn't like hugging. He didn't like touching much without his permission and doing it himself and Ken hated that his brother was uncomfortable again.

"'M not," Osamu said and Ken froze, realizing he'd said that out loud. "You're you, you're fine. Different, you know."

Ken nodded. He wasn't sure he got it, but if Osamu said it was okay, he would believe it was okay.

Osamu hugged him again and the tears picked up again in full force, at least until the woman from the night before squatted down to eye level.

"Aye," she said in a low, light voice. "We've got a pair of sweet boys here, do we?"

Ken blinked, too startled to keep crying. The woman presented him with a cup of water. "You need to replenish your tears you two," said the woman with a small smile. "There are many things worth crying for, beyond this, you need your water."

Ken drank obediently, hiccuping at first, but then gulping it down greedily as exhaustion gave way to hunger and thirst. Osamu only sipped quietly behind him, watching the woman.

"Now lads, let's get a proper introduction, what do you say?" She didn't stand up, in fact, only knelt properly, leaving Ken in full view of the infant in her other arm. Wisps of white hair on top of a pale head, and a gaping, toothless baby mouth open in a yawn. "My name is Yuma. And apparently, younglings, I am your aunt."

"Your hair is like mine," Ken said for lack of anything better to say. Then he nearly dropped his cup as his brother poked him in the ribs. "Ow!"

"Be polite," his brother said, bowing a little. "I'm Osamu. And this is Ken."

"Nice to meet you for real," Ken said hurriedly, not wanting another side poke.

She smiled and Ken liked this smile. It wasn't friendly but it wasn't a lie and it was for them. He was sure it was for them. "Wonderful. Now, your uncle is making breakfast. Would you be willing to help set the table?"

Both nodded, Ken feeling his stomach rumble despite the tears threatening to return. Mom wouldn't be making breakfast in the morning now. She wouldn't tuck him in at night. She wouldn't sing to him anymore in a language he couldn't speak but somehow knew in his beating heart. And dad wouldn't be around to laugh, or come home from work covered in a wet poncho with ink on his hands.

Or he would, just not with them. They would be happy… with none of them.

A rough hand touched the top of his head questioningly. "Youngling," Yuma said in a soft voice that filled with some horrible understanding, and how could she understand? How could she be abandoned too? "Your parents are young and foolish and they love you enough to leave you. But not enough to weather with you. We love you enough to weather with you."

"Why?" And he was so proud he did not cry, hands full of water in a cup. "Why didn't they?"

Yuma looked at him with something he would remember years from now: honesty. "I don't know, but I wish I did." She made to straighten up a bit. "There are a lot of things we must tell you, and we will, over time as best as we can. But the important thing to us right now is that you help us settle you in and make you comfortable. So feel free to ask us any questions and if we don't talk about it, don't forget the question. We'll try to answer it. Is that all right with you?"

Ken nodded, hiccuping. Osamu mimicked him, and Ken was very glad he couldn't see his brother's face.

Auntie straightened up, Yuki drooling on her shirt. "Fantastic. Now, let's go eat."

The table was crowded, the twins from the night before already at the table on lifted chairs. Sayo was looking at them with bright eyes and a pair of waving hands. Dougal was not looking at them, staring at his chopsticks. Their sisters were still sleeping, cradled in cots held up by a bunch of rods. They looked like hammocks!

"That's cool," Ken said, watching Yuma settle Yuki into another one.

"My husband likes to tinker," Yuma replied. "He'd like an audience some time I'm sure."

"You can just say a gopher, darling," said their uncle, who set a tray down in the middle of the table. "Go wash your hands now lads and come take a seat, if you'd like."

Osamu bolted to obey, Ken a few steps behind, staring in confusion at his brother's back. His feet stumbled into a stool and he nearly tripped. Osamu caught his hand with wet fingers. Looking up at him, Ken watched his brother try and smile.

Fear clogged his throat. Right. Okay. He got it.

The table was soon mostly filled with the sounds of eating and chopsticks brushing food. Then Draven broke the silence with a tiny smile.

"I have a family friend coming over to help us begin preparations for the both of you sometime in the next couple of days," he said gently. "He's a good man and he'll want your opinions on various things."

"He also owns this building."

Draven laughed. "Yes, well, working for the government would make that possible."

All Ken could think of was a giant man who could carry a building on his shoulders, like that guy from one of his brother's storytime books. "Is he scary?"

Draven shook his head. "Not really. A bit… eager, but not scary. He has a son your brother's age. I doubt they'll get along."

"I don't like people," Osamu said.

Dougal made a noise into his rice and Yuma laughed. "You and Dougal have much in common it seems."

Dougal made another noise and Osamu merely blinked and shrugged.

"At any rate," Draven continued. "The apartment next to us has been empty for quite a while, so if we are allowed, we'll be taking down the walls and doing some merging of the apartments. It will take a little while, so we'll have to put up with cramped quarters for some time. Will you both be all right if we get some more things to make it comfortable?"

Osamu nodded and Ken hurried to mimic him.

Draven looked at them with the upmost gravity on his face. "Please tell us if you aren't all right."

Ken wanted to tell the man he wasn't all right right now, but judging by the solemn look on his face, his uncle already knew.

But Ken didn't. He just promised he would and went back to his food.

The day didn't pass quickly, but Ken didn't want to do anything in it either.

He tried to unpack his things, but only got as far as his favorite stuffed animal before bursting into tears, so he'd given up and gone to sit with the twins in front of the TV. Osamu was also there, rocking the cot with Mirei in it with one hand. She was so quiet here. Of course, she still cried for things a bunch, and their auntie seemed to know of every child and their issues before they did. It was scary. She didn't even seem to be tired.

The boy in the house kept hiding from them or glaring a bunch over and behind everything he could fit behind. Sayo tottered about, settling wherever she pleased, making vague noises that Ken almost thought were words. He knew she could talk, she just didn't seem interested in doing it.

"Little queen," Osamu said once when she slammed her arms on the couch cushion in his direction, but picked her up anyway. Ken had wanted to stare but his brother's eyes boring into his own made him stop.

Now it was nighttime, dinner time, but Ken didn't want to leave his cot. It wasn't his mom's dinner, and yeah, it'd be good, but it wasn't mom.

She wasn't coming back. Daddy wasn't coming back. And they hadn't even said goodbye or why or anything!

Tears came to his eyes again, held back by a stinging in his head and a lump in his throat, Ken rolled himself over and threw himself against the cot, banging his fists against the fabric and screaming out the energy that just kept blowing up like bubbles but ones that couldn't pop.

He heard the sound of the door opening behind him, and turned and threw his stuffed cat without looking, aiming for his brother.

"I've always wanted one of these!" his uncle crowed with absolute glee, and Ken opened his eyes. Immediately, his cheeks flushed with guilt and he started to sob, ugly loud noises that made his stomach churn.

Soon, a glass of water was placed by his side and he hiccuped. "'M not thirsty."

"No," uncle agreed lightly, placing his cat there next. "But it helps. May I sit down?" Ken sniffled and nodded. The cot dipped. "Would you like a hug?" Ken shook his head no. "Understandable."

They just stayed like that for a while, until the silence grew just as upsetting to Ken as the noise had been, as the ugly mess in his head that made him lurch and almost heave up his stomach.

"Why didn't you and daddy talk until now?"

His uncle laughed. "You and your brother like to go straight for the tough questions, hm?"

"I… yes?" Ken was so startled by how light the man sounded he forgot to be angry.

"Good." Uncle Draven didn't explain that. Instead, he said. "My brother and I have always been… a little at odds. He was da's son, much more than me, very stuck in what made sense to him, and not much to anyone else."

Uncle's voice had a strange calm to it like he didn't know how to sound angry but he knew that he did because he had sounded angry the night before.

"I was, and rather have been my whole life, a bit of a romantic. I love the feelings in things, the things that don't make sense make me happy some days, and the things that make most people ache, make me hopeful. Like my wife."

"He doesn't like auntie?"

"Most of the family doesn't."

Ken sat up. "Why? She's pretty!"

Draven smiled at him. "She's beautiful," he said. "And she took no one's guff then, doesn't now. It was nice to hear someone tell me what they thought of me. Walked right up to me and demanded I eat the sandwich I was poking at, or she would."

Ken tried to imagine it. "You're really skinny uncle," he said. "Were you made of twigs?"

The man laughed. "Not quite, but some days it felt like it. I'd just been kicked out of high school, they couldn't teach me anymore supposedly, I think I just wanted too many things. So I ended up spending a lot of time with her, and well, we grew infatuated. We'd wanted to do as couples do, move in together when she left high school, see if we could make it work. The family wasn't pleased."

"Why not?" Ken watched his uncle rub a spot on his shoulder, almost absently tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"She has dark skin, lad," he said.

Ken frowned a little. Well, he supposed that was true. But what did that have to do with anything?

"We lived in America," Uncle Draven added. "And your grandparents were - and I think still are - very much of the mind that like stays with like, with no overlap. Not that here is better persay, but it is not there, and that is what matters. They did not like me crossing over for that, among other things." He sighed. "Guns are legal in America. My father and one of my brothers tried to shoot me dead. And your father let him. Because he's always been scared of doing the right thing."

Ken wondered how true that was. Was his dad really just scared? Was that all there was? Just fear?

Uncle rose to his feet. "It isn't just the fear, lad," he said with that smile on his face. "It's when the fear eats you rather than when you eat it that matters."

Ken's stomach rumbled.

Uncle smiled. "Like that. Come to eat?"

Ken followed him out and all he could imagine was daddy, running in a mouse wheel to nowhere, with no seeds in sight.

Night grew later and to Osamu tossing and turning around in bed, thrashing and groaning at the heat from his blankets. Eventually, he threw them off and hopped to his feet, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He still felt like he was melting a little as he walked around with the cup in hand, but it was definitely better than before. He sat down on the couch and raised his head, staring up at the ceiling. Even the babies were quiet, though if Ken was any indication, it was exhausting being a baby. They'd probably pick up soon enough. It wasn't like they could do anything else.

He exhaled, a bit loud to his own ears. How could everything have turned out like this? Why were their parents like this? What were they afraid of? What was scarier than being without them?

They'd always told him about how smart he was, how clever and knowing he was for his age. Well, he didn't feel that way now. He just felt young and stupid. He couldn't stop them from leaving, and they'd run away before he could even come up with a convincing argument. And their uncle had basically said that was how their dad tended to be, but he was sure there was more than that, he just didn't know what it was.

He found himself dozing until there was a very soft thump from his left. Something touched down on the balcony. Osamu jolted like he'd been slapped and his cup tumbled to the floor with a muffled thud and a regretful loss of good water. He turned his head towards the balcony where something was settled on the stone, staring right at him.

It looked, at first glance, like a kid with a large sack. Are we getting robbed? Then, as Osamu tilted his head, the moonlight came out of the clouds, and revealed what… maybe was a rabbit? Maybe in one of Ken's drawings.

It had no legs for one, only a shimmery sort of dress-like outfit for feet. And it had an antenna on its head, which was wiggling. It turned its head a bit, making noises that if Osamu listened, could have been words?

Then their eyes met.

"Oh," it said and this time he could hear it. "Well this is peachy keen, isn't it? What are you doing up so late, little human? Isn't it past your bedtime? Where are your parents?"

This was too much. It was all just too much.

Osamu screamed and woke the entire apartment, including three now howling babies. He scrambled to the floor and began beating a hasty retreat to his uncle and aunt's room, still yelling his young head off.

"Oh and now we've gone and done it," grumbled the rabbit. "Guess that was my own gods cursed fault then."

Artemis had been hoping to get somewhere unseen and she'd bollocked it up in ten minutes. This was why she was a rice farmer. She was not supposed to be a bloody cursed queen or savior.

She let out a sigh and hefted the sack on her back. Oh well, at least this place was probably warm. She went to the sliding human door, only for it to be pulled open by a squat woman in purple hair.

"Your Majesty?" she uttered, sounding surprised despite the utter lack of facial expression. "What in the name of the gods are you doing here?"

"Needing help, obviously. What does it bloody look like?"