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In the legend of the paper crane, it is believed that one who folds a thousand origami paper cranes will be granted one wish…

The story of Sadako and the paper cranes, though young in its years, has become a story of great courage and strength. The heroine of this particular story is a young girl named Sadako Sasaki living in the time of World War II. When she was two, the atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan in 1945. At age eleven, she developed Leukemia, known as the "atom bomb disease".

However, Sadako was informed that whomever folds a thousand paper cranes will get one wish, and she set to work.

Sadako completed over one thousand paper cranes before her death at age twelve in 1955.

Interlude: Mother's Lullaby

Sango made her way through the stacks of files and folders, pushing through patient's files and medical records, charts and important documents. She was more than two months behind on her work, meaning she had to work overtime to catch up by the end of the month. She sat in her office, trying to sort through the numerous documents that completely covered her desk.

"Ms. Takahashi, you have a patient."

She suppressed a groan, trying to regain her professional composure. "Alright, I'll be there in just a moment."

Leaving her office, she entered one of the waiting rooms. The patient sat on the table, clutching her hand with a blood-stained cloth. Sango inspected the wound carefully. "You'll need stitches."

The patient crinkled her nose. "Sounds about as wonderful as it is."

"You've had stitches before?"

"Unfortunately," she replied, "I just hope sewing skin together doesn't become a fad."

Sango smiled, pulling out the necessary supplies. "Are you new here?"

"I used to live here. I'm visiting, for old time's sake," she replied.

"What's your name?"

"Tsuya Akamatsu."

Miroku Akamatsu. The young doctor paused, but only for a split second. 'Akamatsu is a common name.' "Any family?"

"A widow," the woman replied, "my son should be about your age. You?"

"I'm taking care of my younger brother."

"No beau?"

"Yes," she began carefully, "we've known each other for almost a year now…" Her sentence faded, deciding something in her mind.

"… His name is Miroku Akamatsu."

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.o.

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Miroku opened the door. "Are you one of Sango's patients?"

The woman paused, "I guess you could say that. Is she here?"

"No, but she'll be back soon. Please, sit," Miroku replied.

She didn't move, instead motioning towards the large pair of sunglasses that covered her eyes. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but…"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were-"

"It's quite alright. As a matter of fact, I prefer it that way," the woman replied as Miroku led her to the couch, "It's been a while since I've been back to Tokyo, hasn't changed at all."

"Really, are you here on business?"

"Sentimental reasons, I left something here."

"And what was that."

"… my son."

"Your…son…"

Then he really saw her.

His heart stopped. Every part of his body went rigid, his breathing shallow and forced. To anyone who passed by, he seemed perfectly fine, but he wasn't.

He was surprised to say the least.

He was at least a head taller than her, her small body pale looking, but not sickly. Midnight black hair stopped a couple of inches above her shoulders, contrasting with her milky skin. As young as she looked, from his relation to her, she had to be at least in her early forties.

As she turned towards him, he was taken aback. Icy gray eyes stared back at him, through him. Her eyes seemed to be glazed over, giving an ethereal appearance. She was blind.

"Hello Miroku."

He closed his eyes. It had been twenty years.

"Hello… mother…"

A sharp pang of guilt hit her. A long moment of silence passed between the two. She knew he could tell she didn't know what to say. What was there to say? "I'm sorry if I don't know what to say after this, I was never good with words."

Another pause. "I can tell."

"Please, sit." She had said that with more anxiety than she had wanted.

Miroku shifted as he sat down, the discomfited feeling growing between the two. "So, where do we begin?"

"The beginning is usually the best part."

"Alright," he turned towards her, "what's your name?"

"Tsuya Akamatsu."

"… Tsuya," he said carefully, but it still sounded wrong. He laughed to himself. "Are just about as uncomfortable about this as I am?"

"Like walking knee-deep in drying cement," Tsuya replied, "but I didn't really expect it to be any more at ease. I know what you're going to ask me… about… why I wasn't around, that is."

"…Yes…" he said softly, "that would be… nice."

Let out a breath, she began, "I had a rare sickness, I can never remember the name, but during my early teens I had come down with it. I had gotten better within a month, but had a nasty side affect which, by the age of twenty-one, had cost me all my vision. You were only fifteen months at the time I went completely blind. Needless to say, I was a hazard."

He frowned. "That's no reason to leave your family."

"It is when you nearly kill your child because of it."

Her words had been said in a barely audible whisper, shame evident in her voice as she spoke. Tsuya purposely avoided his stare as she continued. "Seventeen months old, and you were in the ER fighting for your life over something that could've easily been avoided with my absence. I remember it clearly: the smell of dish soap, you playing beside my feet. The shelf wasn't as close as I had remembered, and I had missed it. The plate had shattered… beside my feet…"

.o.

The first thing she heard was the violent smash of her mother's fine china hitting the ground, but it was the next thing that chilled her to her very core.

It her baby's cries, not of hunger, not of lethargy, but of pain.

"Miroku!"

She dropped to the kitchen floor, gathering her son in her arms, rocking her baby in her arms. His cries became weaker, until he slowly became silent, and she felt the warm liquid running down her arm.

.o.

"If it wasn't for your father, you would have probably died that day," Tsuya whispered, "I was afraid I might hurt you again."

Miroku was silent for a moment. "He's dead, my father."

She nodded. "I know. I was there. When he first told me you had a heart disorder, I took the first flight to Tokyo. You were asleep most of the time; I'm not surprised you didn't know I was there."

"Then you know why he blew his brains out… because of me."

"He did it to save you, yes, but it was not your fault. If it was my choice, I would've taken the bullet. At least you wouldn't miss me."

.o.

"Please, I beg you to reconsider!"

"We're running out of time, Tsuya. I can't hold this back anymore," her husband replied softly, running his hand across the object in his coat pocket, "they say Miroku has a week left, at most. He needs a heart transplant now. "

Her dead eyes closed, listening to her son's shallow breathing inside the room. Miroku had been in this hospital for more than a year now. No one cared about them, few gave any help. She had heard the mournful cries of mothers who had lost their children in this ward, the useless consoling words of doctors, the long hum of the heart monitor. It scared her to death to know that her son may be next. "Then… I'll do it. He won't miss me."

"I can't let you do this. I'm his father. I have to save him. You get custody of him when I'm gone. He's wanted a mother for quite some time."

Tsuya feigned a smile, feeling tears sting at the corner of her eyes, as she knew she couldn't change his mind. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he replied. He turned to the window, giving his son one last glance. He had already said his goodbyes, and now there was only one thing left to do. Walking down the hallway, he stepped in the closest vacant room he could find, and closed the door.

Tsuya listened to his footsteps as they retreated, the clicking of the door as it shut. Turning, she slowly walked the other direction of the hallway. She only stopped for a moment when the gun went off.

.o.

"Social services wouldn't let me have you," Tsuya whispered, "for some reason, they thought a drunk uncle was more capable of raising a child than a blind mother. But whether or not I'm was happy is not the issue, but were you happy?"

"I don't think I've ever been really happy like this. I've always been either content or ignorant."

She frowned. "You're awfully pessimistic, do you know that?" said his mother, "you cannot say something positive without saying something negative to overrule it."

"I'm not pessimistic."

"Really, Sango says otherwise. State three good things about humanity."

"Hm…" he thought for a moment, "children."

"That's one."

"It's desire to learn."

"And what's three."

Miroku smiled. "Sango."

Tsuya cocked an eyebrow. "So you're serious, then?"

"Of course, there's only one problem. When I went on my pilgrimage, I gave away almost everything I had: money, house, job. I have nothing to offer her."

"Miroku, if she wanted you to lavish her with worldly items, I'm sure she would've suggested you get a job by now."

"Yes, but it gives you more confidence than stepping to a woman like that empty-handed."

"Well then," she reached into her purse, pulling out a folded piece of paper, "give her this."

He stared at the object. "A paper crane?"

"A hobby I picked up over the years. And it's my ten-thousandth paper crane to be exact. So, how do you like it?"

He smiled. "It's… enlightening…"

.o.

Finally, done. Not really happy with it, because if I had put in everything I wanted to it would've been twice as long as it is now. Next chapter WILL be up in two weeks, at most. I don't like waiting on people, so I don't want people waiting on me.

Anyway, there are four chapters left to this story, all of which will be a four-part series called "Enlightenment". Why, you'll understand later.

.o.

Posted 6/25/05 by Lyn713

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