Prologue
I knew there was something different about myself right from the start - to be more accurate, from the moment my memories came into existence. I remember always being bundled up warmly and held securely in the strong, yet gentle arms of this lady with gray hair and a wrinkled, but kindly face. She was always carrying me, feeding me and changing me. There was this couple who also came to visit me very often. They called her Florence, and she greeted them respectfully as Mr and Mrs Hanazawa. In her one-sided conversations to me, I learnt that they were my parents. Sure enough, whenever she had time to be with me, Mrs Hanazawa would be picking me up and introducing herself as "mama". Her arms were very much softer than Florence's and she always smelled of jasmine flowers. I would always smile at her, showing her my toothless gums because strangely enough, that would make her eyes light up and her lips would curve into a wide breath- taking smile. Needless to say, I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Even Shizuka comes second. As for Tsukushi, well I guess it just isn't fair to compare . .
My rude awakening to the "cold realities" of this world - using this phrase loosely - was probably when I was about 6 months old. My parents held a party in my honour to "introduce" the masses to the heir of the Hanazawa empire. Between, this may be a slight exaggeration because as Tsukasa used to boast when we were all very young, the Doumyoujis' business is larger than the Hanazawas', Mimasakas' and the Nishikados'. However, I digress. I cannot recall the decorations too clearly as the light reflecting from the crystal chandeliers hurt my eyes, as did the huge diamonds worn by certain overdressed ladies. What I find hard to forget is the sickeningly sweet smiles and sugar-coated words that fell from the lips of some of the couples that spoke to my parents and complimented me, and the way the same smiles hardened and the faked cordiality transformed into cold looks directed at my parents' backs subsequently. The jealousy and hatred in their stares made me shiver, and my mother held me closely, thinking that I was cold. Cliché as this sounds if looks could kill, yours truly and company would have been sent to an early grave. I guess they did not bother to hide their malicious glares because they did not believe that a six month old baby would be able to comprehend such poisonous looks. Well, I memorized their faces, committing them to heart.
When my bedtime came, my mother sent for Florence who took me upstairs and placed me in my cot in the nursery. However, the connecting bathroom had been "opened" to the public i.e. the guests for the night. As I was relaxing in my cot, gazing out into the night at the twinkling stars (at least I think Florence mentioned to me that the tiny dots of lights in the sky were stars), I overheard the conversation between two ladies in the toilet.
". . did you see what Mrs Hanazawa was wearing?"
"The set of pearls? Yes, it obviously clashes with her dress. Again a prime example of fashion over sense."
"I wonder how she managed to coerce Mr Hanazawa into marrying her. I mean he was one of the most eligible bachelors."
"They said she seduced him and he had to choice but to marry her . ." There were other whispers followed by mocking laughter. I will not repeat the rest of the conversation, however, I was so furious at the insults directed to my mother that I started to cry in angry protest. What else could I do? Their conversation terminated once I started screaming, and they left the toilet soon after Florence came in to pacify me. That was when I first realized that the world I lived in was extremely complex and that there was much I had to learn.
On another occasion, I was watching a documentary about babies with Florence. At least, Florence was under strict instructions from my parents to watch the program and I was with her at that time. To my amazement, the old man said a lot of untrue things including that babies only start to develop neurons when they are nine months old, hence they are unable to have memories before that. Also, that their memories in the first one or two years would be not be accurate and it would be highly unlikely that they would be able to retain their memories for long. He further mentioned that that babies usually can say several words by their first birthday, and by their second, they would be able to speak intelligibly. In addition, he said that most toddlers started walking when they were about one to one and a half years old. Hmm . . he may be right about speech and walking abilities of babies, but the inability to speak is no way indicative of our, or at least my, capabilities to understand! Either he was an ignoramus, or he was lying through his teeth, or . . I was simply different. I deduced that it was unlikely to be the first two reasons because it seemed highly improbable that an extremely qualified and well- respected pediatrician who had been asked to educate the public on TV would be a fraud. So I realized at the age of seven months that I was different from most people, and would most likely remain so . .
I knew there was something different about myself right from the start - to be more accurate, from the moment my memories came into existence. I remember always being bundled up warmly and held securely in the strong, yet gentle arms of this lady with gray hair and a wrinkled, but kindly face. She was always carrying me, feeding me and changing me. There was this couple who also came to visit me very often. They called her Florence, and she greeted them respectfully as Mr and Mrs Hanazawa. In her one-sided conversations to me, I learnt that they were my parents. Sure enough, whenever she had time to be with me, Mrs Hanazawa would be picking me up and introducing herself as "mama". Her arms were very much softer than Florence's and she always smelled of jasmine flowers. I would always smile at her, showing her my toothless gums because strangely enough, that would make her eyes light up and her lips would curve into a wide breath- taking smile. Needless to say, I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Even Shizuka comes second. As for Tsukushi, well I guess it just isn't fair to compare . .
My rude awakening to the "cold realities" of this world - using this phrase loosely - was probably when I was about 6 months old. My parents held a party in my honour to "introduce" the masses to the heir of the Hanazawa empire. Between, this may be a slight exaggeration because as Tsukasa used to boast when we were all very young, the Doumyoujis' business is larger than the Hanazawas', Mimasakas' and the Nishikados'. However, I digress. I cannot recall the decorations too clearly as the light reflecting from the crystal chandeliers hurt my eyes, as did the huge diamonds worn by certain overdressed ladies. What I find hard to forget is the sickeningly sweet smiles and sugar-coated words that fell from the lips of some of the couples that spoke to my parents and complimented me, and the way the same smiles hardened and the faked cordiality transformed into cold looks directed at my parents' backs subsequently. The jealousy and hatred in their stares made me shiver, and my mother held me closely, thinking that I was cold. Cliché as this sounds if looks could kill, yours truly and company would have been sent to an early grave. I guess they did not bother to hide their malicious glares because they did not believe that a six month old baby would be able to comprehend such poisonous looks. Well, I memorized their faces, committing them to heart.
When my bedtime came, my mother sent for Florence who took me upstairs and placed me in my cot in the nursery. However, the connecting bathroom had been "opened" to the public i.e. the guests for the night. As I was relaxing in my cot, gazing out into the night at the twinkling stars (at least I think Florence mentioned to me that the tiny dots of lights in the sky were stars), I overheard the conversation between two ladies in the toilet.
". . did you see what Mrs Hanazawa was wearing?"
"The set of pearls? Yes, it obviously clashes with her dress. Again a prime example of fashion over sense."
"I wonder how she managed to coerce Mr Hanazawa into marrying her. I mean he was one of the most eligible bachelors."
"They said she seduced him and he had to choice but to marry her . ." There were other whispers followed by mocking laughter. I will not repeat the rest of the conversation, however, I was so furious at the insults directed to my mother that I started to cry in angry protest. What else could I do? Their conversation terminated once I started screaming, and they left the toilet soon after Florence came in to pacify me. That was when I first realized that the world I lived in was extremely complex and that there was much I had to learn.
On another occasion, I was watching a documentary about babies with Florence. At least, Florence was under strict instructions from my parents to watch the program and I was with her at that time. To my amazement, the old man said a lot of untrue things including that babies only start to develop neurons when they are nine months old, hence they are unable to have memories before that. Also, that their memories in the first one or two years would be not be accurate and it would be highly unlikely that they would be able to retain their memories for long. He further mentioned that that babies usually can say several words by their first birthday, and by their second, they would be able to speak intelligibly. In addition, he said that most toddlers started walking when they were about one to one and a half years old. Hmm . . he may be right about speech and walking abilities of babies, but the inability to speak is no way indicative of our, or at least my, capabilities to understand! Either he was an ignoramus, or he was lying through his teeth, or . . I was simply different. I deduced that it was unlikely to be the first two reasons because it seemed highly improbable that an extremely qualified and well- respected pediatrician who had been asked to educate the public on TV would be a fraud. So I realized at the age of seven months that I was different from most people, and would most likely remain so . .