Disclaimer: I do not and will never own YnM, all the characters are the sole property of Yoko Matsushita. I'm merely borrowing them.

I don't like this chapter too much, it's quite depressing but this has to be done to advance my story, hm? . . . I'd also just like to mention that Hisoka's sisters including Mamoru were all made up by me. They're my own original characters . . . T.T

And please do review. I'd appreciate it.

Pieces of Me

Chapter 3: The Others

By: LadyYuina

In a training session with his father Hisoka had a thought that struck at him. What happened to the others . . .? After he fired his last arrow, Hisoka said, "can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," came the response.

This may sound too straightforward but I want to know. "What happened to the others?" Hisoka timidly watched his father shoot an arrow that landed exactly in the center. He's good.

Grunting slightly as he shafted another arrow, he asked, "what others?"

"My . . . other siblings . . . I mean, what happened to them?" I must know . . .

It seemed the question had struck one of his father's nerves as his arms fell limp to his sides, dropping the arrow and bow altogether. "You really want to know?" he asked in a cold voice that slightly scared Hisoka.

Standing his ground, Hisoka replied, "yes, I believe I have a right to know as your . . ." Son. ". . . I know you and Ms. Kurosaki have been keeping secrets from me, even she told me so." She no longer receives the title of a nurturing parent anymore; not from me.

His father's eyes widened considerably before returning to their normal sized slits. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, Hisoka could feel waves of guilt wash over him. He looked at his father expectantly; demandingly.

"Your mother drowned them," he replied in an emotionless tone.

Hisoka gasped. Murder . . . "Why?"

Guess I should tell him everything, there's no point in keeping it in the dark forever. "Her family is very traditional as of mine. Daughters aren't allowed to live until the mother gives life to their first born son. Our first was you but you are not ordinary. As your mother put it, you are a demon's child."

Hisoka started to tremble. He could hear himself repeating the same excuse he'd used before. "But I never wanted this power!"

"That's not what your mother thinks, she thinks a curse has befallen over our family with the birth of one of your sisters'. That's what she believes now."

The others . . .

"Shouldn't she be deemed the demon's child, she was the one that drowned all my sisters!" Hisoka cried out.

"That's true but it was her duty that she got rid of them . . . There is nothing more powerful than family tradition. At least that was her case, and also mine." Mr. Kurosaki walked towards the rack of bokken and sat down by the side, Hisoka followed. He still wanted to ask more questions.

"Tell me, were they given names?"

"Yes . . . all but one."

"Why wasn't one of them given a name?"

"She was like you."

Confusion got the better of Hisoka because his father saw it clearly on his face. "Like me?" Then what his father had mentioned before dawned on him . . . The so called curse. . .

"Her eyes . . . they were the color of blood, as red as the liquid at it's finest. Your mother was horrified, instinctively she drowned her as soon as she could and threw her away in the garbage.

Garbage!

Hisoka shuddered at the thought as his mother's screaming voice came to mind. She wanted to dispose of him in the garbage too. "She disgusts me, I hate her. More than I hate you."

Mr. Kurosaki feigned a look of hurt dignity; he let out a soft chuckle. "I don't blame you for the way you feel towards us. But let me tell you, I gave that child a name . . . even if your mother hadn't."

"You did?" This came as a surprise.

"I named her Musume." He said the words slowly, relishing each syllable with remembrance. A faint smile caressed his lips.

Daughter.

"You . . ." Hisoka trailed off, deciding to say something else. "What were the others named?"

"Their names were simply numbers."

Numbers? Hisoka looked at his father as if stupefied. He had never in his entire life heard of anyone label their children with numbers; it reminded him of packages, mail, stuff of that sort.

"She's heartless."

"Your mother wasn't always that way, she was once happy."

"When I was little?"

"No, before that. Our first born child made her so happy. I will never forget the expression on her face when she first glimpsed at our baby. Such radiant, pure joy."

"Was she named Ichi?"

"No, not right away at least. Her planned name was Hanako but once she realized she had to separate herself from her she decided to call her a number. That naming routine was used until you came into this world." He switched the subject back to Hanako. "Hanako was born in early spring when many flowers started to bloom."

"Tell me, was mother just as happy when I was born?"

"Oh, yes she was, she was ecstatic! You were the first child she was able to keep. We had such fun times together, I remember giving you rides on my shoulders in the backyard with you mother watching from the doorway. I still remember your first steps too when you were a baby." Such beautiful memories.

"I miss her warmth, her love," Hisoka complained. It was mostly meant for his interpretation instead of his father's. "Back then why was mother sad that day?" I have a right to know . . . Don't I?

"That is none of your concern."

Hisoka was disappointed by his father's answer. None of my concern! You are mistaken! "It was on that day when my life was completely ruined! I was only six years old!" Hisoka's anger hadn't dissipated like he'd hoped it would, it only made him vent it out further. He grabbed a bokken from the rack and tried to hit his father with it. Mr. Kurosaki merely grabbed it and yanked it away from his ill-tempered son. Hisoka fell to his knees, crying, "I deserve to know!"

"I'm sorry but I can't tell you, only your mother and I are allowed to know," Mr. Kurosaki uttered vehemently. He strode out of the dojo, leaving Hisoka behind.

Later that night Hisoka returned to the cellar feeling completely drained. Mamoru happily trotted up to his master, meowing as he did so. Hisoka placed a napkin of food before him.

"Here, enjoy; I brought a little more than usual," he muttered as he slumped down on his so-called makeshift bed. It was literally a cot accompanied by a thin red blanket that never kept Hisoka warm during the winter.

It had been three days now; he wasn't allowed to leave the house for a month as his punishment for being a minute late. Even though he didn't get to say goodbye to all of his friends he was sure that Mariko would discuss meeting up with him in the night to them eventually, even if it weren't right away.

Tonight, he had a disturbing dream.

--Dream--

A little girl was slumped over something, softly crying. Hisoka unhurriedly walked over to see what she was crying about.

"Mamoru!" he called out at the sight of him. Or what seemed to be like him.

The little girl turned around; to his surprise she strongly resembled him with bright emerald green orbs, except she had red colored hair instead of a dark sandy tone like his.

Her hair . . . is just like mother's.

"Mamoru?" she asked inquiringly. Tears still furiously rolled down her cheeks as she spoke.

Hisoka nodded his head. "Yes, that cat's name is Mamoru."

"How-how did you know?" she asked. "I never told you his name . . ." Wide green eyes narrowed slightly.

Hisoka squat down beside her and placed a gentle hand on her left shoulder. He heard himself say, "that's not important, we need to bury him."

"Okay," the little girl replied.

Surprisingly Hisoka was totally calm about this. Here was his cat before him, pronounced dead an he felt no remorse? It was rather disturbing but he didn't know what to make of it.

"Hey, mister, what is your name?" the girl asked.

"Hisoka."

"Hi-so-ka," she echoed, repeating each beat. "I'm Hanako, it's nice to meet you."

"Same here." This doesn't surprise me at all . . . why is that so? Is she the Hanako that my mother gave birth to? I needn't ask because I already know that it is her.

"Mister, you look a lot like me," she said as she studied him. Hisoka let out a soft chuckle, easy and slow. When the burial of Mamoru was complete Hanako thanked him. "Thank you for helping me bury him. Why don't you come over to my house and rest? It looks like I got all your clothes muddy, I can tell my mommy to wash them for you."

"Ah, that's not necessary."

"Oh, I insist, you've helped me out a lot. I would have had a hard time digging a hole deep enough for Mamoru to fit in by myself."

When they arrived, the house looked exactly like the one he resided in except that the roof color was red instead of brown.

"Come on in," Hanako beckoned.

Immediately a woman rushed up towards Hanako but stopped her planned assault when she saw Hisoka. "Oh? And who are you?" she asked.

"Hisoka." This feels strange . . . From behind her Hisoka could see two other girls, they both had piercing brown eyes and red colored hair.

"I'm sorry for troubling you, mommy, I wanted to bury Mamoru that's all," Hanako explained. "Hisoka helped me."

"I'm just glad that you came home safely," she replied. She eyed the sand colored haired youth momentarily. "Please make yourself at home and I do believe that you'd want a change of clothing."

"Yes, that'd be nice. Thank you, madam." This feels strange . . . I'm talking to my own mother . . . but she seems like the mother I knew so long ago . . . If only this was reality.

"Come meet my sisters!" Hisoka didn't have time to protest as the energetic child dragged him along his feet. Shyly, they each came in turn and bowed while saying their respective names.

Tami, Sachiko, and Hanako . . . so they're the others . . .? Are they, really?

"Um, don't you guys have one more sister?" Hisoka asked. The three girls stared at him in awe. Hisoka didn't know what to expect from them at this point.

"How did you know?" Tami asked. She appeared to be the youngest of the three which left Sachiko in the middle.

"Psychic?" Hisoka offered, unsure of what to tell them. In a sense I am like a psychic, right? I can feel after all . . . These are my sisters. Why am I having this dream?

"We did have another sister but she died, mommy told us that she drowned," Tami explained.

Hisoka couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Hey!" Sachiko cried. "That's nothing to be scoffing about!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. Honestly," Hisoka said, defensively raising his arms up. This dream - is it mine?

"Mommy told us that she drowned in a swimming pool. Before she could reach her mommy said she had stopped struggling; she had run out of breath.," Tami continued.

"I see."

"Stay for dinner?" Hanako suddenly asked. "After all, my mommy still needs to wash your clothes for you."

"What . . . uh." Hisoka looked down at her warily.

Tugging at his sleeve she pleaded, "please, after all you've done, please stay."

"Ah, about Mamoru, may I ask how he died?" This sounds like a reasonable question. After all, she's practically urging me to ask this . . . pleading for me to stay over for dinner.

"He got sick," Tami intervened when Hanako didn't answer.

"Oh."

"Please stay for dinner, Hisoka," Hanako suddenly repeated again.

Hisoka had no clue as to why the child was so adamant in making him remain here. He would have liked to ask but seeing the results of the first question made him shut his trap. "Um, okay." I give up. Maybe I'm just thinking too hard, there probably isn't any motive behind this child's urgency. I'm sure there isn't.

Later that night at the dinner table Hisoka could feel his mother's eyes boring into the side of his head. He was sure she'd eventually burn a hole through the side if she stared hard and long enough.

"More salad, Hisoka?" she asked.

"No, thank you. I've had my fill. Your croissants are really good, did you make them from scratch?" Hisoka asked.

"Oh, goodness no! But thank you for the compliment, I'm truly flattered." Giggles broke out among the children. It was contagious because Hisoka started to laugh with them. To him, this was how a family should be. Together as a unit, always happy and caring; he missed all this close interaction . . .

"Bye, Hisoka!" Hanako cheered when he walked out the front door fully clothed in his blue shirt and jeans again. They smelled fresh. The others waved goodbye, Hisoka did the same.

Without warning his surroundings faded to darkness. He sat upright in his bed, cold sweat covering his body. To his surprise he felt warm arms wrapped around his waist.

"Mother," he whispered. Was I sharing her dream?

He slowly slipped away from her awkward embrace and went to his usual corner. Mamoru laid curled up below the windowsill. Dawn was approaching, it was only a matter of time.