IV- Black
I burried Misao's corpse myself. I had to do it, for I was the only person she told the place she wanted to rest to. That very day I asked Omasu to take care of our child and took my Misao-chan to our last goodbye.
Their four stones were standing there for almost sixteen years then. I feared digging and finding their heads still there, but I had to fight the fright. She made me leave my fear silently so many times that I should not let her down now: I had to proove I had grown strong. "I know they will take good care of thee." I said her, as if she could hear me.
A shallow thomb I made with my bare hands and there I placed her helpless body. For some minutes I could do nothing but stare. She looked pale and yet so beautiful, so dear as I had always seen her, that it was hard for me to burry her. But that had to be done. I wept like a child, alone, over her burried body.
I have been spending three days with our daughter in my arms all the time. My eyes always fixed on her face, scrutinizing her lines and finding ressemblances with Misao. Her cheeks, just under her eyes, her eyebrowns, her forehead, her mouth. Okina told she looks just like me, but all I can find on my child's face is my Misao-chan. In each trace, in each sound she makes, her sniffs, her moans, her cries: Misao lies there, reborn in my arms.
All this time I have been silent, absolutely silent. I am waiting for the time our child will open her eyes. I need to see if they are like Misao's. I do not want to ever forget her gaze in my life. And each movement our daughter makes, each new motion the world gives her the chance, my heart throbs soundly and my shoulders stiffen.
She sniffs, her tinny tinny hands move up to her face, she yawns softly. I smirk sadly. And she finally lets her small eyelids slip up. My eyes get startled: she has narrow eyes, just like mine. Ocean-green narrow eyes, thick black eyelashes around them.
I am affraid of being, our child helping me up in my arms. I close my eyes and all I see is black.