The third card she drew was Judgement

{"What bothers you, Tsuyosa? Something is eating at your heart, your mind. That ming with so much strength, that heart with so much love. Judgement - you want to change, don't you, Tsuyosa? What do you want to change? No, don't look at me like that. You are growing up. You will mature and grow even stronger Don't shake your head. You can't say you wouldn't change, because you will. Just don't change so much that I can't recognize you, and everything I love about you changes as well."}

Fragment Three: Eulogy of Mine [This is Our Story]

I don't know how I'm going to explain how this happened, because that day, though so vibrant in my mind purely for the happiness that followed it, is indeed a hazy day. Summer was over. It's been two months, a week, and five days since Hitomi's suicide. In the air was the scent of autumn, and the fog that rose from the sea burned itself into my window. The first thing I remembered was opening my eyes to see soft light glimmering through my half open windows.



A gentle light, like none other. Just seeing the slant of it, striking my blue vase and falling in turquoise waves over my lying body, I suddenly felt a loneliness that I have not, even to this, can describe. The house, our lovely one floor, five room house, suddenly seemed to grow in omnipotent malice. The sounds of cooking, of happy chatter, everything died, and became like shadows playing against the buttercup cream walls. I thought back then, that nothing would ease this grief from me, from this house, and from Mom.

The house was indeed empty, because no one else was there. Oba-chan collapsed yesterday, and in a rush, Mom and Dad forgot to leave the house key to Suzuki to watch over me. Suzuki was and still very much is, a gorgeous woman in a curvy type of way, and yea, even back then, I felt a wave of heat rise between my legs every time she leaned forward to brush my stray bangs away from the base of my forehead. Suzuki was a few years older then Hitomi at the time, and lived in the house across the street. She took care of me when Hitomi was busy, and Mom and Dad too. Back then, I thought Suzuki was going to make me a man, the type of man Dad wanted me to be.

I got dressed that morning, to the sounds of a rock song blaring out of my radio's speakers. I guess with the house so empty, I would have time to think, and thinking lately has given me more sadness then peace. If I had my way, I would never be left with a single thought ever again. Thinking gives you pain, I think that's why Oba-chan fainted. She carried the thoughts that Dad was too scared to say.

What a world to live in, where even regrets and guilty is carried with you, wherever you go. I tried walking faster lately, so my footsteps wouldn't drag so pitifully against the floor. My head, it's been so heavy, but I didn't have the strength to try looking up, not now. Everything still hurts when I look up to the sun. The light made my eyes water, yes, the tears that were there, don't confuse them with sadness, or regret. It was all about pain.

That morning, I slipped on my new sneakers, a gift I receive quite some time ago, but never wore. The sky smelled like rain, and how the very air sat upon my shoulders and embraced my face as I opened up the window to stare out into the foggy city. The humid air carried with it the taste of salt, and running the length of my tongue over cracked lips, I held a debate, I'm not ashamed to admit it, whether or not I should go to school today, or just stay at home, sleeping the day away in front of the TV.

Japan nurtures the very best of students, no, not students that actually love to learn, rather, students brainwashed into believing that nothing matters more then school - not the churning waves that crashed upon my skull, not the short wizened breaths I barely managed to cough out, not my health, not my dear dead Hitomi, no nothing matters more then school. That's what I believed back then.

I tore through the house, cursing at my stupidity because really, I shouldn't have wasted even a minute thinking if I'm going to stay at home or not. If I miss the bus, whose fault would it be? Mine, always just mine and no one else. Food didn't matter, even though Mom always told me I should eat something healthy for breakfast each day. Not today though, if I wasted another few minutes to actually cook up some rice, or heat up some water for ramen noodles, I wouldn't make it school on time.

Cap on head, jacket over shoulders, backpack to be loaded with books and zipped up, I worked up a sweat before I even walked out the house. Nothing was going to go right today, I can tell by the hazy sky and the wind that burned itself into my uncovered hands. I loved fall, don't get me wrong.

Every fall, Hitomi would take me to the mountains by train. I remember how she would hold my hand, her fingers wrapped around my own, and her eyes devouring the trees, rivers and distant hills that unfurled before her. The train was almost always empty, and she would let me go only when I asked if I could run, screaming up and down the carpeted aisle.

And how I would scream, just loud happy screams that reflected the joy that bloomed inside me. Hitomi, with her hands folded in her lap, would scream too, and everything that bothered me would disappear, evaporated in the gentle light that flooded the train. Silence was not an option, because this joy was rare, was something shared only by Hitomi and me.

The train would stop at a town, somewhat large in size though not nearly as large as Nagasaki, where the women still wore kimonos and zori, woven with straw and forest grass, and the children danced with paint masks and chant tales as old as Oba-chan. Do you know how sweet the air smelled after a shower of fresh rain that brings about the blooming of tender roses and lilies? The people of the village was bathed in that scent.

The villagers know Hitomi and me. They would offer us food and, whenever we arrived during a rainstorm, their homes, furnished with carvings of wood and flowers from the forest that surrounded them. So sweet and gentle. Hitomi often brought clothes, in white, light blue and sea green - her colors - for both her and me. One time, she brought me a fantastic woven scarf and hat, as light as a feather, but so warm, as if blessed with the sun itself.

The trees above would be brilliant scarlet red, and when we walked among the trees, I felt as if we were walking amidst clouds of harmless flames. Surely the dragon of fire descended from his home in the mountain of the sun to give us this gift of color and power. My hand would seek Hitomi's own, and we'll walk silently, as if in prayer.

Sometimes I held my breath. It was just so beautiful. The chanting of the village children, the sound of the wind, everything moved with such gentle grace, I didn't want to talk. I had no desire to disturb this peace.

These were the memories that no one could take away. I loved fall because each moment I spent with Hitomi became etched into the trees that loomed overhead, the timeless songs the children chanted, the wisps of willowy cloud dancing in the air. Time froze each time Hitomi and I stepped off the train, only to start again, like a waking dreamer, when we headed back to Nagasaki.

I loved fall.

That's why I hurried to run down past our street, turning the corners sharply, hand clutching book bag to chest. The scent of leaf drenched air suffocated me. The hazy fog held no more secrets. The village must surely have moved on, just like time.

Fall moved on too. Just like how winter and spring and summer will. And then it'll start all over again.

I started to pray without ever knowing why. Tears started to well, just like that, inside of me, but my eyes were like hot irons, melting away whatever tears began to fall. Everything at that moment meant nothing, everything was surreal. All I could think about was the unspoken sadness inside of me. A pain I can not name.

// Someone share this pain with me. //

Mom? Dad? No, they'll never understand, though Mom cries almost every night. I haven't just lost my sister, my sibling, but a part of myself. When I smiled, it felt like lies. I want someone to slap my happy face. I had no right to be happy when everything at home was falling apart.

// Someone help me talk again. //

They said I grown so silent, even though it's only been a month. If they knew the story I had inside of me, like a parasite rotting my heart to the very core, they'll be silent too. I broke into a flat out sprint, ignoring someone calling out my name. I must have imagined it. No one would be calling my name.

// Someone help me. //

This elevation of emotions, a flight of sanity ripping off her robes to reveal chaos inside, took over every part of my body. Swaying hips, the hand that wrapped itself around the handle of my book bag as if death would come if it dropped, I could feel a pain ripping through, burning from the inside. My mind and heart, they cried even though my eyes could not.

// Won't you remember her name? //

I had to focus on something before I swooned and fell. Strength, huh, Tsuyosa? This dancing of overwhelming pain and steeped grief almost consumed whatever power I had inside of me. The only thing my mind could think of was Hitomi. My thoughts centered around her. She was the strong one.

// You can hear this, can't you? Help me. //

I spoke her name in a whisper and the raging inside of me died down for just a second, only to roar back in all consuming power a second later. I just wanted to lift myself up from that damned sidewalk and fly into the sky, sinking with infinity. The sides of my stomach began to ache. I said Hitomi's name again and felt a second of relief.

// I want only one thing. //

I formed 'Hitomi' over and over again, as I ran down the steps that lead to the bus station, skidding to a stop before a disgruntled driver with a full bus.

// Won't you stand still to feel the sadness in her, in me? //

I fumbled through my wallet, searching for money, as the driver murmured a few incomprehensible swears, fingers tapping against the wheel.

// She'll fade away into nothing if you don't stay still. //

The driver honked his horn in anger and closed the door. The air fluttered past my cheeks, lifting matted hair off my forehead. And at the very moment the bus pulled away from the curb, my hand emerged from my battered thrice own wallet [it used to be Dad's, who got it from Grandpa] grasping a single yen note in weak defiance.

// You won't stay still. //

Do you know Nagasaki, like all of Japan, is littered with the worst and best of society? You can tell which section you're in by the color of sidewalk. Light grey means that the sidewalk is always worked on, smoothed over and over. Dark grey means that the sidewalk is forgotten.

The sidewalk under my feet was dark grey, filled with cracks. This was the same sidewalk that crawled its way up to our house, a magnificent three story house, yes, but not yet old enough to smell like home.

// Can you hear this? //

Our old home, the one that Hitomi loved, was on the other side of the city, and the sidewalk there was cobblestone, all different shades of rock and mineral. Hitomi and I once drew old runes from a book Oba-chan gave us once long ago on each rock to give our happy home a blessing.

// I want only one thing. //

Mom and Dad moved as quickly and as fast from that house as they could, Mom crying into her hands when she did so. The memories of youth and happiness, they're fading from my mind so fast in the face of this grief.

// Stay still and remember our story. //

It's hard to describe how it happened. The overpass was littered with cans and the single ray of light I followed so intently broke. I tripped and my book bag crashed to the floor, echoing in the silent tunnel.

It was an overpass, wasn't it? Where were the cars? Silence just meet my ears. Lying with my stomach against the rocky ground, I closed my eyes. Is this how Hitomi is now, forever asleep, wrapped in flames? I do not believe that her soul rests in a tiny jar on the family altar. I know she's a spirit, kissing the flames that coated her dead body. I want the same peacefulness.

// One thing and you can leave. //

Consume me whole. I was so foolish to believe that everything will be okay. The neighbors talk about us, about Hitomi behind our backs, whispering lies. Reisuke and his family do not speak with us, though Reisuke has once admitted somewhat bashfully that he would love Hitomi forever. Yukari-san and Amano, so happy in England, why would they ever call us more then once a month? My friends just stare at me sometimes, and our conversations run dry.

Consume me whole, this peace I found under the overpass, against the hard ground. Life is too hard.

// Help me tell our story. Please. //

It happened with an explosion of light, as brilliant as it was cold. Nothing scorched my skin though light flooded over my body and danced in the overpass. My clutched hand pried itself away from the side of my head and laid flat against my mouth. I dare not breathe.

It was the same kind of beauty and grace Hitomi and I found in a mountain dotted with red maple trees. Feet touched stone, and I saw one wing spread itself to touch the other end of the overpass as the other folded itself, like a one sided cloak around the body of a man.

Beautiful eyes stared at me, intensely dark brown, shifting from the brown of a tree trunk to the brown of rich earth with the passing of light. I could not breath.

My prayer.

No, Hitomi's.

He lifted his left hand and something sparkled. A ring. A calm washed over me as the man lowered himself on one knee before me, his wings now furled tightly against his back. His hand brushed away my bangs and gently lifted my hand from my mouth. My mind hurt so much. It was snowing feathers, where did the man's wings go? It happened so slow, as if I was living this second wearing hour's clothing.

The man shifted his weight to both of his knees and he bowed low, touching his forehead to the ground. It was snowing feathers.

The calm took over me and I let myself go.

"I will remember with you." he spoke softly and he bowed again. I dare not breathe. The calm the man brought with him overtook my body and lulled me to a sleep, right then and there, underneath the overpass and lying against the dirty ground.

This is the beginning of our story.