'Over the Clouds'
Side story
The chaplain sat at his desk, and sighed. There wasn't much for him to do, other than the standard paperwork and duties that were more possibly made to keep him occupied than be of any needy use.
It was a rather cushy job, the chaplain of a hospital. He almost felt guilty for taking it, but if it was where the Lord directed his path, he would not question it.
He had only been at the Nerima Ward for less than a week, taking over for the previous Chaplain that had been reassigned elsewhere. What little that a representative of a Western religion could do in a Japanese hospital had already mostly been taken care of before his arrival. Even so, he doubted that many of the patients or their relations would actively seek his consolace. He wasn't Japanese, and would almost seem to them that he could not associate with their plights.
Dare he say it, he was bored. Maybe it was a trial of his patience that was chosen to test his resolve. In any case, he hoped that there was at least some more busywork to come his way, soon.
"Father Samuel?"
The Hispanic chaplain looked up, somewhat surprised to be addressed by a nurse he had never seen before, standing in the doorway, "Um, yes...." he read the romanji characters on her name tag, "Ms. Tsunago? You're from special care?"
After a courtesy bow, the middle-aged nurse stepped out of the way, and used her right hand to usher a young girl, no more than seven or eight, into the room. "She was in the lounge with her two sisters, alone. The two younger ones we're taking care of at the moment, but I thought it would be best you talked with this one yourself."
Father Samuel studied the girl with long brown hair cascading down to the small of her back, standing in a light blue dress and staring back up at him with guileless trepidation, confusion, and worry.
The clergyman wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Far be it from him to turn down such a young one in need, even if it was for a brief stint in babysitting. Obviously more busywork for him, but he had to ask, "What can I do for her?"
The nurse nodded to the girl, who was currently clasping her hands together before her. Samuel noted the chain dangling from her fists, but his suspicions were confirmed when she opened her palms up towards him.
"I see, thank you, nurse," Samuel motioned the girl to sit in the somewhat uncomfortable chair across from him at his desk. The young girl looked up to the nurse, who nodded back, before slowly making her way to the seat.
"I'll leave you two alone," the nurse said, before softly closing the door to his small but cozy office.
"Hello there, young one, what's your name?" the clergyman began, hoping he didn't sound too patronizing. He wasn't much older than twenty-six, and had little experience with children himself.
The girl bowed from her seat, "Kasumi Tendou."
"Well then, Kasumi Tendou," the chaplain continued, issuing the girl a warm smile, "That's a pretty cross you have there." It wasn't ordinate at all, a plain silver cross no more the size of a housekey, but to the girl it meant a lot, possibly as much as it meant to him.
"It's my mother's," the girl replied, allowing the chaplain to hear her voice for the very first time. It was as melodic as a child her age could have it, but a melody that was played somberly.
The emotion didn't escape Father Samuel, and he somewhat hesitated to ask his next question, "And where is your mother?"
The girl looked down to her lap, placing her hands upon them with the palms up, still holding the cross, "She's here, but father won't let me or my sisters see her."
"Oh," Samuel replied, pretty much getting the gyst of the situation, "I'm sorry that a precious young one such as yourself would have to deal with such a scary situation."
"Mother's been here for over a month, but this is the first time Father's brought us with him, because he usually leaves us with a babysitter. He's been really sad since she came here, but he won't tell us why."
"Kasumi," the clergyman began in his most endearing, solumn tone, "I think your mother may be very, very sick. Do you understand?"
Kasumi nodded gravely, "I... I snuck in and followed him when he told us to wait in the waiting room. I got to see her without him knowing." The young girl looked up at the man across from her, with an almost pleading expression, "It just looked like she was sleeping. What's wrong with her?"
"I... I can't answer that, child," the clergyman said in a soft, regretful voice, "It's something that's out of my knowledge, I'm afraid." In the back of his mind, he considered it. The woman had been here for more than a month, and the nurse found the girl on the floor with special care. There were a few things that came to mind that could be the problem.
"I heard father shouting at the doctors while he was with her. He looked like he was angry and scared. I've never seen Father scared before, but I know he was." Kasumi began to tear up, clutching the cross, "I... I think my mother's dying."
Samuel's heart wept for the child. He meant it when he said he was sorry for the pain she was suffering, but he didn't truly realize how vast it would be. She didn't know or understand what was going on, but she knew very well that it was far dire than what her father would allow her to know. Her sharp perception for one so young would cause her too much pain if she didn't find release. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"Why? Why is she like that?" Kasumi urged, before looking down at the cross she was holding, "She said that this protected her, that her faith kept her safe. She had gotten dizzy before Father took her to the hospital, and it got caught on the corner of the kitchen table." Kasumi seemed to ponder the relic of her mother's faith, "maybe because she lost it, she's dying. If I give it back to her, she'll get better soon!"
The girl was smiling through the still running tear streaks that adorned her cheeks and chin. Seeing the girl's optimism suddenly ignited pained the chaplain greatly. He hated what he was about to do, he truly did, but it was best that the child not have false hopes in the Lord and have them battered to the ground, should the worst come. "Child..." he gulped to wet his throat, or perhaps to push back down his heart, as it felt like it was trying to escape through the passage, "...child, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. The Lord looks over your mother, and he can heal her given time. But, I cannot say that your mother's cross will heal her like a good luck charm."
"My mother always talked about a great deity that watches over her because she believed in him." Kasumi whispered, though the sniffles began to disrupt her, "She always wore this for him, because she said that he would always look after her. Why is he letting her die?"
How, how do you explain to a child that it wasn't their place to question his judgement? How do you tell a young, innocent girl that she may lose her mother because the Lord called for her soul? This was the true test of his resolve, his dedication to the cloth. His beliefs could never be shaken, that was a given, for he had seen miracles that awed and inspired him far beyond any scope. Where he could falter, was in dashing the hopes of a child because it he could not lie. He could stumble in the slippery path her unbidden tears created, and lose the turbulant battle being waged for the girl's innocense.
Father Samuel got up, and walked around his desk. He knelt before Kasumi, putting his right hand on her shoulder, "Kasumi, dear. I.... I think I understand why your mother's sick, but you must never lose your faith that she can't get better, or that our Father in Heaven chose to let her suffer. He seeks to heal all his children, and end their suffering. Your mother may wake up, because it is not her time, or she may join him in Heaven, where she can look down upon you, your father, and your sisters, and be proud of you all."
"But I want her to stay! I don't want her to go to Heaven!" Kasumi snapped back, "He should give her back to us, because we need her more than he does!"
"My child, my poor, poor child," the Hispanic clergyman wrapped Kasumi in a hug, as the girl began to break down. "The Lord does not create suffering in this world, and it hurts him as much as it does you to see one of his children suffer. He can only do what is best for us all, as we bear our crosses and pain. He walks with us, helping us carry our burdens, suffering along with us. He understands that you hurt, child, because he feels it with you."
Father Samuel leaned away from now freely crying girl, and enfolded her smaller hands within his, causing her to cup the cross, "He wants to also end all our pain, and that may be done by taking your mother away from hers. Do not fear your mother leaving you, because she and the Lord will always be with your family."
The clergyman stood up, looking down at the girl with a face firmed with resolve, "Perhaps it's time you went to see your mother, regardless of what your father wants..."
_____________
"Mr. Tendou, we've done all we can," the doctor pleaded with the infuriated man, who stood over him like an overbearing demon.
"NO YOU HAVE NOT SHE'S DYING AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO TELL ME THAT THERE IS NOTHING MORE YOU CAN DO?!?" Soun shouted, outraged and despaired over the condition of his wife, and pained for his impotence in the situation. His wife was dying, but he would be damned if he just let her.
"We can turn up the medication to prolongue her life, maybe," the doctor attempted to explain, "but that would not change her situation in the least. She suffered from a major stroke and aneuyrism when she came in here, and then four more smaller ones within the week. She WAS breathing a great deal for herself with the resporator, but she stopped this morning. We don't even know why, but that tells us that she had just suffered even more brain damage then before."
A nurse approached Soun, although cautiously, "She may have built up blood around the brain, further damaging it, or she may have just simply given up. But, even in the remotest chance she recovered after this incident, assuming we can even keep her alive past twenty four hours, she won't be the same person you knew, she won't even be more than like an infant, maybe even worse off, a vegetable." The nurse stepped closer, feeling a bit more bold after being able to finish her speech, "I'm sorry, for all I can offer you, I grieve for your loss."
"I DON'T CARE! INCREASE HER MEDICATION IF YOU HAVE TO! I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO OPERATE AGAIN IF IT'S NECESSARY! I WILL *NOT* JUST LET MY WIFE FADE AWAY WHEN SHE HAS A FAMILY THAT-"
"Father?"
Soun's shouting was cut down brutally by the soft voice of his eldest daughter. With wide eyes, Soun whirled around, to find Kasumi standing with what he had guessed was a priest of his wife's faith. "K-Kasumi... I thought I told you to wait!"
"You cannot keep this from your daughter from seeing her mother. it hurts her much more than you could imagine." the priest said, laying a hand on Kasumi's shoulder.
Soun glared at the foreigner, "How dare you bring her here, and then attempt to tell me what's best for my daughter! Her mother will return to us, mark my words!"
Kasumi didn't hear her father, as she looked towards her mother. She indeed looked like she was sleeping, but the rhythm of her breathing seemed very wrong, the way her left eye wandered about under slitted eyes in an unusual pattern, and her mouth gapped every so often as if she were fighting vainly for each breath. A tube was stuck out of her throat; a clear tube that the young girl could see dotted on the inside with precipitation. From her mother's arms and from under the covers, Kasumi made out a myrid of cords and thin tubes jutting from the patient. It looked painful to Kasumi, it left no doubt in her mind that her mother was suffering.
Father Samuel shook his head at the sight, "None of God's children should live such a mockery of life, no matter how much we wish for their recovery. To imprison her soul in a cage of flesh is a far crueler jail that can be created."
"Do NOT lecture me," Soun growled, "If your 'God' were so powerful, he would be performing these 'miracles' my wife believed he could create, and save her!"
Kasumi looked up at her father, then the clergyman, "God can't help mother when we keep her like this, can he?"
"Kasumi... she..." Soun stopped, and closed his eyes, "Damn it, turn it off. Turn all the damn machines off."
Slowly, the doctor nodded, but Soun did not turn to see it. With tears falling from his own eyes, he knelt before Kasumi, and pulled her into a fierce hug. Her father's tears triggered her own, as the doctor quietly unplugged the resporator, and the medication feed. Samuel's soft prayer for the departing and Soun and Kasumi's sobs failed to drown out the rasping sounds of the resporator winding down.
_____________
A seven year old Kasumi sat in the corner of her room, away from any furniture, with her knees tucked to her chest. It had been over a month since the death of her mother, and since then, she could tell things were falling apart completely.
Her father had about given up on his duties, himself, and his daughters. Kasumi told herself that he loved them still, but it hurt so much to see that he couldn't bear to face them. He spent a great deal of his time a recluse for the past month, barely even being seen by any of his three daughters, with the exeptions of a few meals that he didn't spend in his room. Eventually, Soun Tendou would open himself back up to the world, but before that would happen, his daughters, his livelyhood, and his very sanity would suffer for that time.
Akane loved their mother, possibly more than Kasumi or Nabiki did. The youngest daughter constantly searched for the return of their mother, not truly comprehending what was going on. No, Akane knew, deep within, but her youthful heart denied it with great fervor. If she were to heal the wound that was slowly growing across the exuberant and cherished innocence, she would have to taught to accept things, and let them go.
Nabiki had become a steady stream of tears; from herself, and those around her. She was a force of pain that affected all associated. She became anti-social at school, snide, sometimes flippant to anyone who would tell her different, and ultimately vengeful to those who would seek to punish her. No one knew how to handle her, and threats of alerting her remaining parent were idle at best, for no one could bring Soun to care enough to take action.
Kasumi didn't understand things completely, but she knew enough through her naivity and innocence that it wouldn't be long before everything was lost. Kasumi raised her tearstreaked face from her folded arms that rested on her knees. Her expression changed from one of despair, to one of firm resolve. Her mother must be sad up in the Heaven she always used to tell stories to Kasumi about. Her mother loved them all, and wouldn't like any of them to be so sad.
Kasumi left her room for the first time in hours, and headed for the family shrine in the dojo. on the shrine, Kasumi found what she was looking for, a silver Christian cross. Tentatively, the eldest Tendou daughter reached out with the greatest of care, and grasped the cross. She opened the latch, and placed it around her neck; she would need the symbol of her mother's faith to give her her mother's strength for what she knew needed to be done.
With that, Kasumi had grown up much too fast, and left her childhood behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"flowing through countless rivers
you don't have to accept everything with the name you're given
without ever asking 'why'?
Our pain just now flew away."
Lyrics from Hikaru Utada's 'Deep River'
Sidestory written in memory of Dora Holloway Rose, loving wife and mother of three children, who died on June 25th, 2003
She will be greatly missed by her son and family.
AN: And no, I'm not a religious person, so please don't IM me asking to pray for her or such
Side story
The chaplain sat at his desk, and sighed. There wasn't much for him to do, other than the standard paperwork and duties that were more possibly made to keep him occupied than be of any needy use.
It was a rather cushy job, the chaplain of a hospital. He almost felt guilty for taking it, but if it was where the Lord directed his path, he would not question it.
He had only been at the Nerima Ward for less than a week, taking over for the previous Chaplain that had been reassigned elsewhere. What little that a representative of a Western religion could do in a Japanese hospital had already mostly been taken care of before his arrival. Even so, he doubted that many of the patients or their relations would actively seek his consolace. He wasn't Japanese, and would almost seem to them that he could not associate with their plights.
Dare he say it, he was bored. Maybe it was a trial of his patience that was chosen to test his resolve. In any case, he hoped that there was at least some more busywork to come his way, soon.
"Father Samuel?"
The Hispanic chaplain looked up, somewhat surprised to be addressed by a nurse he had never seen before, standing in the doorway, "Um, yes...." he read the romanji characters on her name tag, "Ms. Tsunago? You're from special care?"
After a courtesy bow, the middle-aged nurse stepped out of the way, and used her right hand to usher a young girl, no more than seven or eight, into the room. "She was in the lounge with her two sisters, alone. The two younger ones we're taking care of at the moment, but I thought it would be best you talked with this one yourself."
Father Samuel studied the girl with long brown hair cascading down to the small of her back, standing in a light blue dress and staring back up at him with guileless trepidation, confusion, and worry.
The clergyman wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Far be it from him to turn down such a young one in need, even if it was for a brief stint in babysitting. Obviously more busywork for him, but he had to ask, "What can I do for her?"
The nurse nodded to the girl, who was currently clasping her hands together before her. Samuel noted the chain dangling from her fists, but his suspicions were confirmed when she opened her palms up towards him.
"I see, thank you, nurse," Samuel motioned the girl to sit in the somewhat uncomfortable chair across from him at his desk. The young girl looked up to the nurse, who nodded back, before slowly making her way to the seat.
"I'll leave you two alone," the nurse said, before softly closing the door to his small but cozy office.
"Hello there, young one, what's your name?" the clergyman began, hoping he didn't sound too patronizing. He wasn't much older than twenty-six, and had little experience with children himself.
The girl bowed from her seat, "Kasumi Tendou."
"Well then, Kasumi Tendou," the chaplain continued, issuing the girl a warm smile, "That's a pretty cross you have there." It wasn't ordinate at all, a plain silver cross no more the size of a housekey, but to the girl it meant a lot, possibly as much as it meant to him.
"It's my mother's," the girl replied, allowing the chaplain to hear her voice for the very first time. It was as melodic as a child her age could have it, but a melody that was played somberly.
The emotion didn't escape Father Samuel, and he somewhat hesitated to ask his next question, "And where is your mother?"
The girl looked down to her lap, placing her hands upon them with the palms up, still holding the cross, "She's here, but father won't let me or my sisters see her."
"Oh," Samuel replied, pretty much getting the gyst of the situation, "I'm sorry that a precious young one such as yourself would have to deal with such a scary situation."
"Mother's been here for over a month, but this is the first time Father's brought us with him, because he usually leaves us with a babysitter. He's been really sad since she came here, but he won't tell us why."
"Kasumi," the clergyman began in his most endearing, solumn tone, "I think your mother may be very, very sick. Do you understand?"
Kasumi nodded gravely, "I... I snuck in and followed him when he told us to wait in the waiting room. I got to see her without him knowing." The young girl looked up at the man across from her, with an almost pleading expression, "It just looked like she was sleeping. What's wrong with her?"
"I... I can't answer that, child," the clergyman said in a soft, regretful voice, "It's something that's out of my knowledge, I'm afraid." In the back of his mind, he considered it. The woman had been here for more than a month, and the nurse found the girl on the floor with special care. There were a few things that came to mind that could be the problem.
"I heard father shouting at the doctors while he was with her. He looked like he was angry and scared. I've never seen Father scared before, but I know he was." Kasumi began to tear up, clutching the cross, "I... I think my mother's dying."
Samuel's heart wept for the child. He meant it when he said he was sorry for the pain she was suffering, but he didn't truly realize how vast it would be. She didn't know or understand what was going on, but she knew very well that it was far dire than what her father would allow her to know. Her sharp perception for one so young would cause her too much pain if she didn't find release. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"Why? Why is she like that?" Kasumi urged, before looking down at the cross she was holding, "She said that this protected her, that her faith kept her safe. She had gotten dizzy before Father took her to the hospital, and it got caught on the corner of the kitchen table." Kasumi seemed to ponder the relic of her mother's faith, "maybe because she lost it, she's dying. If I give it back to her, she'll get better soon!"
The girl was smiling through the still running tear streaks that adorned her cheeks and chin. Seeing the girl's optimism suddenly ignited pained the chaplain greatly. He hated what he was about to do, he truly did, but it was best that the child not have false hopes in the Lord and have them battered to the ground, should the worst come. "Child..." he gulped to wet his throat, or perhaps to push back down his heart, as it felt like it was trying to escape through the passage, "...child, I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. The Lord looks over your mother, and he can heal her given time. But, I cannot say that your mother's cross will heal her like a good luck charm."
"My mother always talked about a great deity that watches over her because she believed in him." Kasumi whispered, though the sniffles began to disrupt her, "She always wore this for him, because she said that he would always look after her. Why is he letting her die?"
How, how do you explain to a child that it wasn't their place to question his judgement? How do you tell a young, innocent girl that she may lose her mother because the Lord called for her soul? This was the true test of his resolve, his dedication to the cloth. His beliefs could never be shaken, that was a given, for he had seen miracles that awed and inspired him far beyond any scope. Where he could falter, was in dashing the hopes of a child because it he could not lie. He could stumble in the slippery path her unbidden tears created, and lose the turbulant battle being waged for the girl's innocense.
Father Samuel got up, and walked around his desk. He knelt before Kasumi, putting his right hand on her shoulder, "Kasumi, dear. I.... I think I understand why your mother's sick, but you must never lose your faith that she can't get better, or that our Father in Heaven chose to let her suffer. He seeks to heal all his children, and end their suffering. Your mother may wake up, because it is not her time, or she may join him in Heaven, where she can look down upon you, your father, and your sisters, and be proud of you all."
"But I want her to stay! I don't want her to go to Heaven!" Kasumi snapped back, "He should give her back to us, because we need her more than he does!"
"My child, my poor, poor child," the Hispanic clergyman wrapped Kasumi in a hug, as the girl began to break down. "The Lord does not create suffering in this world, and it hurts him as much as it does you to see one of his children suffer. He can only do what is best for us all, as we bear our crosses and pain. He walks with us, helping us carry our burdens, suffering along with us. He understands that you hurt, child, because he feels it with you."
Father Samuel leaned away from now freely crying girl, and enfolded her smaller hands within his, causing her to cup the cross, "He wants to also end all our pain, and that may be done by taking your mother away from hers. Do not fear your mother leaving you, because she and the Lord will always be with your family."
The clergyman stood up, looking down at the girl with a face firmed with resolve, "Perhaps it's time you went to see your mother, regardless of what your father wants..."
_____________
"Mr. Tendou, we've done all we can," the doctor pleaded with the infuriated man, who stood over him like an overbearing demon.
"NO YOU HAVE NOT SHE'S DYING AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO TELL ME THAT THERE IS NOTHING MORE YOU CAN DO?!?" Soun shouted, outraged and despaired over the condition of his wife, and pained for his impotence in the situation. His wife was dying, but he would be damned if he just let her.
"We can turn up the medication to prolongue her life, maybe," the doctor attempted to explain, "but that would not change her situation in the least. She suffered from a major stroke and aneuyrism when she came in here, and then four more smaller ones within the week. She WAS breathing a great deal for herself with the resporator, but she stopped this morning. We don't even know why, but that tells us that she had just suffered even more brain damage then before."
A nurse approached Soun, although cautiously, "She may have built up blood around the brain, further damaging it, or she may have just simply given up. But, even in the remotest chance she recovered after this incident, assuming we can even keep her alive past twenty four hours, she won't be the same person you knew, she won't even be more than like an infant, maybe even worse off, a vegetable." The nurse stepped closer, feeling a bit more bold after being able to finish her speech, "I'm sorry, for all I can offer you, I grieve for your loss."
"I DON'T CARE! INCREASE HER MEDICATION IF YOU HAVE TO! I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO OPERATE AGAIN IF IT'S NECESSARY! I WILL *NOT* JUST LET MY WIFE FADE AWAY WHEN SHE HAS A FAMILY THAT-"
"Father?"
Soun's shouting was cut down brutally by the soft voice of his eldest daughter. With wide eyes, Soun whirled around, to find Kasumi standing with what he had guessed was a priest of his wife's faith. "K-Kasumi... I thought I told you to wait!"
"You cannot keep this from your daughter from seeing her mother. it hurts her much more than you could imagine." the priest said, laying a hand on Kasumi's shoulder.
Soun glared at the foreigner, "How dare you bring her here, and then attempt to tell me what's best for my daughter! Her mother will return to us, mark my words!"
Kasumi didn't hear her father, as she looked towards her mother. She indeed looked like she was sleeping, but the rhythm of her breathing seemed very wrong, the way her left eye wandered about under slitted eyes in an unusual pattern, and her mouth gapped every so often as if she were fighting vainly for each breath. A tube was stuck out of her throat; a clear tube that the young girl could see dotted on the inside with precipitation. From her mother's arms and from under the covers, Kasumi made out a myrid of cords and thin tubes jutting from the patient. It looked painful to Kasumi, it left no doubt in her mind that her mother was suffering.
Father Samuel shook his head at the sight, "None of God's children should live such a mockery of life, no matter how much we wish for their recovery. To imprison her soul in a cage of flesh is a far crueler jail that can be created."
"Do NOT lecture me," Soun growled, "If your 'God' were so powerful, he would be performing these 'miracles' my wife believed he could create, and save her!"
Kasumi looked up at her father, then the clergyman, "God can't help mother when we keep her like this, can he?"
"Kasumi... she..." Soun stopped, and closed his eyes, "Damn it, turn it off. Turn all the damn machines off."
Slowly, the doctor nodded, but Soun did not turn to see it. With tears falling from his own eyes, he knelt before Kasumi, and pulled her into a fierce hug. Her father's tears triggered her own, as the doctor quietly unplugged the resporator, and the medication feed. Samuel's soft prayer for the departing and Soun and Kasumi's sobs failed to drown out the rasping sounds of the resporator winding down.
_____________
A seven year old Kasumi sat in the corner of her room, away from any furniture, with her knees tucked to her chest. It had been over a month since the death of her mother, and since then, she could tell things were falling apart completely.
Her father had about given up on his duties, himself, and his daughters. Kasumi told herself that he loved them still, but it hurt so much to see that he couldn't bear to face them. He spent a great deal of his time a recluse for the past month, barely even being seen by any of his three daughters, with the exeptions of a few meals that he didn't spend in his room. Eventually, Soun Tendou would open himself back up to the world, but before that would happen, his daughters, his livelyhood, and his very sanity would suffer for that time.
Akane loved their mother, possibly more than Kasumi or Nabiki did. The youngest daughter constantly searched for the return of their mother, not truly comprehending what was going on. No, Akane knew, deep within, but her youthful heart denied it with great fervor. If she were to heal the wound that was slowly growing across the exuberant and cherished innocence, she would have to taught to accept things, and let them go.
Nabiki had become a steady stream of tears; from herself, and those around her. She was a force of pain that affected all associated. She became anti-social at school, snide, sometimes flippant to anyone who would tell her different, and ultimately vengeful to those who would seek to punish her. No one knew how to handle her, and threats of alerting her remaining parent were idle at best, for no one could bring Soun to care enough to take action.
Kasumi didn't understand things completely, but she knew enough through her naivity and innocence that it wouldn't be long before everything was lost. Kasumi raised her tearstreaked face from her folded arms that rested on her knees. Her expression changed from one of despair, to one of firm resolve. Her mother must be sad up in the Heaven she always used to tell stories to Kasumi about. Her mother loved them all, and wouldn't like any of them to be so sad.
Kasumi left her room for the first time in hours, and headed for the family shrine in the dojo. on the shrine, Kasumi found what she was looking for, a silver Christian cross. Tentatively, the eldest Tendou daughter reached out with the greatest of care, and grasped the cross. She opened the latch, and placed it around her neck; she would need the symbol of her mother's faith to give her her mother's strength for what she knew needed to be done.
With that, Kasumi had grown up much too fast, and left her childhood behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"flowing through countless rivers
you don't have to accept everything with the name you're given
without ever asking 'why'?
Our pain just now flew away."
Lyrics from Hikaru Utada's 'Deep River'
Sidestory written in memory of Dora Holloway Rose, loving wife and mother of three children, who died on June 25th, 2003
She will be greatly missed by her son and family.
AN: And no, I'm not a religious person, so please don't IM me asking to pray for her or such