"I am the god Khepera, and my members shall have an everlasting existence. I shall not decay, I shall not rot, I shall not putrefy, I shall not turn into worms, and I shall not see corruption beneath the eye of the god Shu. I shall have my being, I shall have my being. I shall live, I shall live."
-Chapter CLIV of the Book of the Dead
This is how it happened.
It was a bright sunny day, my backpack heavy on my shoulders. The soft shuffle of worn playing cards in my hands, a quiet sidewalk, the familiar twisted tree. This was the solitary path I took home each day from school, a winding road that passes through the highway and into the woods and out again to my house.
I stop at the road, looking around patiently as usual. There's a semi-truck rumbling down the road, pretty common for the area since lots of cargo carriers needed to get by to reach the other part of town.
But I...can't remember...how it happened.
One second I was by the treeline, and the next I was a deer in the headlights. The blaring horn of the truck ringing in my ears as I felt my entire body thrown onto the pavement, battered and crushed, slideshows of red and black and a brief moment of excruciating pain, murky red splattering on the asphalt, before everything went dark.
My head hurts when I try to think about it. I can't make sense of what happened next, so maybe it's for the best that I don't remember. All I know is that my world is put on halt for who knows how long in an inky darkness. I wasn't sure if it was hell or heaven or limbo. Time was fluid, as if I were deep asleep.
The next time I regained any cognition was when everything suddenly went glaringly bright and cold. All I could take in was blinding white lights and alarming weird blurry figures before my eyes seared and I screamed for the first time in what felt like forever, the shrill sound resonating throughout my whole body.
To be honest, I was scared shitless. I had no idea where I was, my body didn't listen to me, and I couldn't comprehend what was happening to me. I was disorientated and in pain, my brain kept spotting out, I kept losing any chains of thought as I struggled to regain any semblance of control. I was panicking, losing grasp on my entire sense of self.
But then, like the heavy roll of a fireman's blanket over an inferno, I felt something press down against the sharp spikes in my mind, calming my fear. Very thankfully, I was quickly pushed back into the familiar chamber of sleep.
I had a visceral feeling that if that small miracle did not happen, all of my memories and comprehension skills would have broken down permanently.
(✦✧✦✧)
The next time I woke up, it was dimmer.
Someone was humming as I slowly blinked open my eyes.
Slowly the world came into focus.
There was a face above me, a woman. The first thing I noticed were her eyes-an electrifying ocean blue framed by long, thick black eyelashes. Her skin was tanned and messy dark hair rested on her head, the ends tickling my cheek as she cradled me to her chest.
I jerked instinctively as I realized that I didn't recognize her, but my body barely twitched. My arms seemed like they were tied down, and I felt fear bubble in my chest again.
What was going on-someone, someone please help. I opened my mouth to plead, but all that came out was a mumbled gurgle.
The woman noticed my movements, giving me an unfittingly bright smile for the terror I felt before turning to look at something out of my view.
Words came out of her mouth, but as my mind slowly sorted through the phrases, I realized that I didn't understand any of it.
Suddenly my perspective swiveled to a new face, that of a man with brown hair and dark indigo eyes. He was paler than the woman and in his arms was a very young boy who looked a lot like the man, except with shorter hair and the same sharp blue eyes of the woman.
A child-so at least I wasn't just surrounded by unknown adults. The kid seemed safe, a wide-eyed look of fascination painted across his face as the man whispered softly to him before leaning down to kiss the woman on the forehead.
"彼女は美しいです" He whispered, again in that jumbled language that I could barely recognize in my mushy mind.
I tried to struggle against my restraints again, but my body still couldn't move.
I had a horrifying, dawning awareness that I was very, very small, and that the thing around me looked and felt like a blanket.
Before I could control it, my mouth soured into a frown. And despite my best instincts, a wail tore itself out of my throat. In the next instant, I was crying at the top of my lungs without restraint, stress and fear coupled by the realization that the sounds I made were too high-pitched, too loud, too short.
I was, seemingly, a baby.
My brain could barely handle existing right now, so the extra strain sent me into another bout of dreamless sleep.
The next few months passed in a blur as I struggled to deal with the fact that I had somehow died. DIED. And had been reborn-REBORN.
How was I supposed to handle that? The fact that I was only 17, not even done with high school, never even had my first kiss or figured out which college I was going to or even gone to a single party, and my entire life over.
The shock lingered with me for months. I could barely keep track of what happened on a day to day basis-and frankly I'm glad, since being an infant is NOT fun. But I couldn't help the bursts of sticky grief.
To be honest, I hadn't had a very close relationship with anyone before I...passed away. My parents had split while I was in elementary school, and after that it was hard to connect with them between their constant absences. My mother was a flight attendant and my father was an event consultant, both of which required frequent and typically extended travel. I grew up mainly by myself, heating up Kraft macaroni and leftovers in the microwave for dinner.
They were very career-oriented people, which made me wonder why they ever decided to try and settle down together. But it wasn't all bad, the house was quiet which made it nice for watching movies on the living room TV or studying at the breakfast table.
I only had a handful of good friends. We hang out and watch shows together, do homework, or occasionally go to the store. I didn't feel a deep connection to them, but they were always warm, and I appreciated their friendship a lot. As each day passes, however, I can remember less and less of any of their faces, their voices, details about their lives and about my own life.
I could feel it all slipping through my fingers slowly, week by week, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. After all, I was dead, gone, non-existent. Living now only in this time and space, which was my new reality.
At the very least, I got this chance to live again. At the very least, I had the opportunity to redo everything, make friends, enjoy school with a new perspective, and still be able to experience the rest of my life.
What was in the past is in the past, and it would be better for me if I just pretended it never happened. Maybe this new numbness would soothe the ache in my chest, maybe it would make me happy again.
To drown out my melancholy, I turned to other subjects, like the environment around me.
It was so hard to keep myself awake these days, but in my brief moments of clarity, I managed to learn what must be my new name.
They called me Risana.
That's who I am now.
(Don't think about it too long, I told myself. You're still you, just by a different name. Shedding and taking it on like a new set of clothes, that was all it was.)
I slowly learned the language. My new mother was 'Kaa-chan'(mother), and my new father was 'Tou-san'(father). In a way, I was glad that I wouldn't have to call them 'mom' and 'dad'.
In this life, I also found out that I had an older brother. The young kid I saw that first day, his name was Seto.
Despite being a two-year old, Seto wasn't obnoxious. In fact he was quieter than most children I've encountered, which saved me more than a few ringing headaches. He didn't act like other kids his age, such as dribbling drool and food everywhere or trying to touch me with grubby hands. At most, all he did was look curiously at me over the top of my crib and maybe mumble my name a few times.
That was solid in my books.
The months passed like that, warm smiles from Kaa-chan and long periods of deep sleep. Sometimes, the sound of cartoons playing on the TV, sometimes being able to watch the colorful pictures myself when Kaa-chan, Seto and I sat on the couch in the late mornings.
And maybe, just maybe, it was ok.
Even with the bumpy teething rings and gummy baby food, or the fact that I still couldn't control my limbs very well. The warm afternoon sunshine that streamed in from the windows in the morning and the sounds of lively laughter coming from the kitchen made it worth it.
Maybe, just maybe, I could learn to like it here.
(✦✧✦✧)
Seto stares at me, one block still raised in his hand to add onto his staggering block tower.
I stare back, the remains of the aforementioned tower jutting its geometric edges uncomfortably into my chin and chest from where I had just accidentally fallen on top of it.
This...was embarrassing. I thought I had slightly better control of my crawling now at seven months, but apparently not.
Seto lowers his arm, a blank expression on his face as he awkwardly extends the block to me.
At a loss for words, I reach out my short, stubby baby hands to grasp it from him.
Giving me one last wary look, but satisfied by the fact that I hadn't started bawling yet, Seto turns back to restart his building.
I blink. With some effort, I get myself back up on my arms.
To apologize, I reach out and wobbly place the block Seto gave me onto his newly created base.
(✦✧✦✧)
Is it that easy to forget?
Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter pass in a blink. Although all I can remember from summer is the last hot month, summer shirts and little bits of milky popsicle melting on my teething gums. Then, the switch to long-sleeves for the fall and watching the trees change colors at the local park while Seto played on the swings.
They celebrate Christmas, New Years, and then my birthday again in the second month of the new year. I don't feel the chill of winter at all through the many layers that Kaa-chan puts on me, even as I learn how to toddle through the house on both my feet.
In the tall bathroom mirror, I can finally stare at myself on my own, and I try to pick out which parts belong to me and which don't.
In the mirror, dark indigo eyes blinked back at me, a steady and absorbing color. They weren't the striking blue of Seto and Kaa-chan, but that was okay.
My hair is still brown, just like how I think it used to be before the Incident. But I think, because I can't remember anymore if it was darker or lighter or the exact same shade as before. I just know that it's roughly the same color as Seto's, perhaps just a little darker but definitely with the same tawny undertone like him and Tou-san. But while their hair fell straight, mine carried a slight messiness that made the strands curl softly at the ends, a more muted version of Kaa-chan's fluffy mane.
Kaa-chan liked to use clips to hold the bangs out of my eyes. My personal favorite were the thin, rectangular sky blue ones. They looked cute and complimented my hair.
I smiled at myself, and watched as the unfamiliar girl in the mirror smiled back.
The disconnect mocked me.
(The truth was, I didn't know who I was anymore. Was I still 17? Did this year add onto my life experiences, or am I still 17? Are my hobbies the same anymore, when I spend most of my time playing with blocks and watching cartoons? Which parts of me were 'me' and which were Risana? Are we one in the same, or are we separate people with separate lives? Am I even 'me' anymore?)
(✦✧✦✧)
"And then, the little rabbit lived happily ever after." Kaa-chan finished, closing the storybook.
"M're" I asked sleepily, digging my face into her side. Kaa-chan always smelled like apricots and her specific brand of lotion, a soft and smooth scent that easily lulled me into drowsiness.
She giggled and patted my head.
"Ok darling, one more."
The familiar lilt of Kaa-chan's voice filled the room, and I fell back asleep to the gentle smells and the dim light of the nearby lamp, her hand softly stroking through my hair and the warmth of affection that I had gotten far too dependent on.
Maybe it was ok if I forgot, forgot it all, and just lived this new life, lived my life.
(✦✧✦✧)
Summer came and left again, but this time I was better equipped with mobility and I could actually enjoy the days sitting on a floatie at the pool or taking delicious bites of a juicy red watermelon.
Tou-san is mostly busy with work, but some nights he comes home at a reasonable time and we all go out to get ice cream.
Cicadas buzz in the trees, and the grass by the bench we sit on is slightly itchy, but the sweet summer breeze of an orange sunset and the taste of melting vanilla on my tongue makes it all worth-while.
Peaceful days like these come often here, but I still cherish every moment like a new trinket, delicately admired and coveted in a treasure box.
Fall comes with a gradual change in scenery. I finish learning all my numbers by July and we celebrate Tanabata, the star festival, in August. Kaa-chan takes us to a shrine to make our tanzaku wishes, but I don't know what to put for mine.
Luckily, I have the excuse of age and just scribble out a few wobbly shapes that might be stars or just sharp circles. It gets hung up on the tree regardless, and as we leave, I can't help but take one last glance back at the colorful pieces of paper, my own useless 'wish' swaying with the others.
In October, Kaa-chan finally switches out the summer closets for the fall and winter clothes. Then, at the end of the month, we celebrate Seto's fourth birthday with an adorable chocolate cake from the local bakery.
I happily clap my hands as he opens his presents-action figurines and other toys, and some books. He starts pre-school next year, so on-sale school supplies is a topic that frequently gets brought up for the rest of the year.
Kaa-chan bundles me up in jackets and scarves as the brunt of winter starts to hit, and we patrol the shopping streets for perfect Christmas gifts. Seto stays home for most of these trips, since he's more interested in putting together the latest puzzle than window shopping. Regardless, the few times he does come, he always indicates his interests, and Kaa-chan gives me a wink as we leave the stores.
Sometimes on our outdoor trips, it's rainy and slippery with cold slush, so Kaa-chan hoists me up on her back as we walk around. More and more often, small drafts of snow come down, and I blink as they land cold kisses on my cheeks and eyelashes.
December comes with a bang as Kaa-chan announces that she's pregnant again. I really don't know how to deal with that news, but the year ends with that fervid buzz of excitement.
I sip on a cup of hot cocoa as Kaa-chan starts looking at baby clothes again, and I absentmindedly send a prayer to Tou-san's wallet.
The New Year is ushered in with new transitions. I moved out of my own bedroom and into Seto's to make room for the new baby. His desk and dresser get pushed up against one side of the room while my child-sized bed and desk are added into the other. The pink and blue color schemes contrast slightly, but I'm looking for more muted colors in the future anyway.
Seto and I get along well. He doesn't mind me watching while he puts together his Gundam models, or when I steal his old books and toys, or the way I frequently ask him for help with new words..
"Cat run?" I garble out in my broken Japanese, picture book cranked open to the third page.
"No, Risa." Seto corrected, "It's 'The cat runs'."
My brother is extremely smart for his age, so I take his advice earnestly. Seto's logic was advanced, able to understand links in behavior and solutions most kids didn't grasp. He had already developed a sense of empathy beyond his age, and already knew how to speak complete sentences with near-perfect grammar.
Of course, my own stubbornness means that I'm trying my best to catch up as well.
"Seto, what this?" I ask, pointing to a new word on the page.
He leans over from reading his own book to look at mine, which was propped open on the desk. He skims the page and then replies as he settles back down onto his bed.
"Kon-bi-ni." He says, "That's 'convenience store', like where Kaa-chan gets the popsicles."
I nod. I knew what popsicles were, since we frequently had them in the summer.
That night, I stay up past my bedtime as usual. The glow from my night light is faint, but it's angled enough that I can at least squint and make out the words on the page.
I repeat the phrases to myself over and over, internalizing the corrections that Seto had made.
Two days later, when I catch Seto eyeing the cookie Kaa-san gave me, I make a scene of being too full and hide my smile at Seto's happy eating face.
(✦✧✦✧)
My third birthday comes in February again. The three on the cake taunts me, but I tentatively allow myself to make a wish as I puff out the candles.
A small wish-the only thing I could ever ask for.
To please, please, let this happiness stay. To please continue my years cycling through the honeyed kisses of my mother and the loving understanding of my brother and the sturdy hugs of my father. Please, don't take this from me. Please, let me stay.
That night, I realized that I hadn't thought about my previous life for nearly a whole year now. The faces of my previous family-could I even remember them now?
The thought makes me uncomfortable, so I try to banish it from my mind.
But it's not that easy. It's never that easy, and I spend the rest of the night staring at my ceiling, unable to fall asleep.
That's okay, because despite the maybe two hours of sleep I get in total, Kaa-chan greets us in the morning with a warm breakfast(something so rare in my past life, so unintentionally desired-) and Seto cracks open the worn spine of a workbook while I sip my milk and watch the cartoons running in the background.
And everything, once again, slots itself back together. Calmly, serenely, perfectly.
Even when Seto starts pre-school in April, and we see him off at the small school gate with hugs and a small sniffle from Kaa-chan, things are okay.
Things change, but they aren't horrible, like how in the morning we get to walk Seto to school, mingling amongst the other 'older' kids while Kaa-chan gets asked about her health by the familiar elderly couples and other parents that we pass by. Like how Kaa-chan helps me with words or numbers during the day instead, and how I can nap in the afternoon with only the clicks of Seto's newest toy in the background. Like how Seto comes home with small stories from his day and more picture books to share with me.
Yes, it's different, but everything is picture-perfect as always. Things always re-right themselves here, and that's how it's always been.
Until, like all things eventually, it doesn't anymore.
(✦✧✦✧)
"Tou-swan?" I asked drowsily as he quickly gathered me into his arms. It was the middle of the night, and I grunted at the sudden impact of being knocked against a shoulder.
While I tried to adjust the pull of the blankets, I could hear him getting Seto out of the bed. In the next moment, we're being deposited into the car and Tou-san's getting into the driver's seat.
"K-Kaa-chan?" I yawn as I slump against Seto, who's equally as boneless. Our mother's in the passenger seat, taking deep breaths as we pull out of the driveway.
I let Seto steal some of my fluffy blanket as he questions my parents, although he's also still bleary with sleep.
The dark swaying of the car and the warmth of Seto next to me make me close my eyes, and I think I might've fallen asleep for a few minutes because the next thing I know, Tou-chan's wrenching open the side door and I'm jolted back out of sleep to stumble onto my feet out of the car.
Seto tries to help me keep up as we march into a blindingly white hospital room. It takes a split second for Kaa-chan to huff out what was wrong before she was rushed down the hallway.
Tou-chan gives us a one-over as he settles us quickly into the colorful waiting chairs before he's gone, rushing after our mother.
I watch his figure disappear behind a corner with disbelief, the drowsiness dissipating from my brain.
Did he...really just leave us here? By ourselves?
I look around. The room is a fair size, empty except for a receptionist at the front desk that doesn't look up from her papers. The chairs we're on are plush and thick, even if they have that sort of sterile rubbery texture made to prevent stains.
Seto doesn't seem to have the same qualms as me, bundling himself deeper into the blankets and sinking back into sleep.
I stare at him for a second, trying to take in the situation.
Was...it was different in Japan?
Unsure, I tentatively huddle myself in the blankets too. My body is tired, so I lay against Seto and the shared heat helps keep us warm. But I can't find it in myself to fall asleep again, so I sit there and quietly think, staring across the room at the clock.
The only noises are the clicking of a keyboard from the receptionist, the occasional times the telephone rings and she picks it up, speaking words that I haven't fully learned yet, and the staff that walk by, sometimes with beeping pagers or rolling medical equipment.
After what might have been an hour, the thrum of anxiety in my chest finally settles, and my eyes feel like they're being weighed down by lead.
In a few minutes, I was asleep too.
(✦✧✦✧)
Seto shifted, but it wasn't to get more comfortable, it was to sit up. The movement stirred me out of a dream, but the sound of my father's voice woke me immediately.
I raised my head to see Tou-san standing still in front of us, and I rubbed my eyes in confusion.
"Tou-s'n? Wha...What wrong?" I asked the best I could.
He rigidly bent down to pick me up and I hugged him back, realizing with concern that he was shaking.
His voice wavered, clouded with tremors, "Your...Kaa-san. Gone... She's gone."
What?
Mind went into overdrive.
She was gone?
"Where did she go? When will she come back?" Seto asked, sleepy confusion in his voice.
"She-she's never coming back, Seto."
The implication hit me like a ton of bricks, and I tightly gripped my father's shirt.
No. No-I had just seen her about half an hour ago, she was fine. She was fine.
There must have been some sort of mistake. Tou-san probably just mixed up his words. There was no way...
Seto was asking a barrage of questions, but we were interrupted by a nurse coming down the hall. She talked briefly with Tou-san, words I once again barely understand, before leading the three of us through the nearby doors in a condemning silence.
We walked down a few halls, but none of us dared to talk anymore until we entered one of the rooms.
I strained to see Kaa-san, sitting brightly in her hospital bed and waiting for us. To hear her lively voice swoon over our new sibling. She would never leave us, she was our mother. She loved us. She would never leave us.
There was nothing.
The room was empty.
My lips trembled.
Must be the wrong room.
One of the other nurses moved up to us, a small blue bundle cradled delicately in her arms.
Not a word came from her mouth as she handed it to Tou-san, who set me down on my feet. I stood by Seto, watching as our father shifted the blanket away from his youngest child's face.
He choked back a gasp, and I tensed up.
No. What was happening right now, no. I couldn't take it, couldn't understand it. I wanted my mom. Where was my mom?
"I want..Kaa-chan." I said.
Not one of the adults around me replied.
And of course, the only appropriate response at that time, whether I could control myself or not, was to cry my eyes out.
"Where Kaa-chan?! I want mama!" I screamed, barely recognizable words spilling out of my garbled mishmash, half english, half japanese, and half jumbled phrases that weren't from either language.
Hot tears ran bitter salt into my mouth, but that didn't stop the chaos in my mind.
Everything around me was falling apart, everything, all of it-all of it was gone.
And then, like the pinprick of a needle, a peep of a white pinhole in my mind, something pressed against my frenzy and I was out like a light.
(✦✧✦✧)
The story after that was of a decidedly less happy genre.
I woke up the next day to an empty house, save for Seto, who Tou-san had called out of school temporarily. Other than a brief exchange of information, Seto and I don't talk. There's nothing for us to say to each other, and we're both lost in a daze of our own thoughts for the entire day.
The baby's still at the hospital being monitored since he was born premature. That was what Seto told me at least.
I don't see our father until deep into the night when he stumbles through the doors smelling like cigarettes and alcohol.
He doesn't say a word to us, and we don't say anything either, but he drops off a bag of takeout on the kitchen counter before staggering into his own room and shutting the door.
Seto and I have a dinner of greasy street food, but it's better than nothing. The oil slips down my throat like water.
That night, I don't bother getting into my own bed. I quietly cross the cream colored carpet separating Seto's bed from mine. He scoots over and lets me take one of his pillows for my own.
I curl up onto myself, trying to let the warm covers calm my hammering heart.
I think I hear Seto mumbling something that sounds like "Sorry, Risa." but I don't care to pursue it any further.
There's a gaping hole in my chest, and it aches. It's already enough to try and stifle the tears without thinking of how my brother might be feeling.
The turmoil inside me crashes onto itself over and over, like waves, but I'm trying my best not to get swallowed by my own thoughts. But I can't help the few tears that stain my borrowed pillow before I fall into a shallow sleep.
(✦✧✦✧)
Sometime in the middle of the night, I awake to my father's sobs in the room next to ours.
The walls in our house are paper thin, which is why I can hear every ragged gasp and choked cry.
I bury my head in the covers and shuffle closer to my brother. The sounds of crying are driving me insane, and I have to hold back a few of my own sniffles.
I hear Seto sigh quietly, and I know he's woken up too.
There's a weighty pause and I barely muster up the courage to speak, my heart in my throat.
"Big brother..." I whisper timidly, my voice squeaky and uneven. "Please can you...tell me a story?"
I know it's unreasonable. I know my brother was just as tired as me. But anything, anything to take my mind off it. Anything, please.
For a split second, in the silence afterward, I'm scared he won't. But then, he sighs again.
"Ok." He says back, voice heavy with sleep.
"Once upon a time..." He starts, and I roll over to face him.
The room is pitch black, our night light turned off. I can't see his face, but I rest my forehead against his shoulder as he sets up the background for the story.
Seto knew a lot of things, I mused. Like how to tell fables and fit together tiny puzzle pieces and outwit people in Shogi. But I wonder how much he knew about grief, about death.
Even after going through it personally, I understood none of it.
But briefly, just for the moment, I'll let myself be selfish. I'll let myself act like a child. I'll let myself cry into navy blue sheets and ask my brother to read stories to me.
And when Seto needs to, I'll let him be as selfish as he wants too.
I close my eyes and let myself be temporarily satiated by whatever tangled logic that ran rampant in my mind.
It was okay, as long as there's us, I lied to myself. It would be okay.
Fuelled by my own delusions, I fell back into an uneasy sleep.
(✦✧✦✧)
I can't stand the sight of my mother in her casket, but I don't really have a choice. We're all there at the funeral, and I can't stop myself from peeking at her serene face one last time.
I miss her. I miss her, I miss her.
I turn away as the service ends, I can't bear to watch them bury her.
Forget it all.
Please, let me just forget it all.
This is cruel, so cruel. How could I get everything taken away, then to have things given to me and taken away again.
Never, ever, ever. Never ever again.
Seto is a noiseless cryer, but that night he trembles in my arms. I keep my promise, and try my best to comfort him.
But...that would be one of the last times I ever saw my brother crack like that.
(✦✧✦✧)
Mokuba came home at nearly two months. Mokuba, that was what mother had named him. With fluffy tufts of black peeking out from his blanket, he was the first one with mother's hair color, although his eyes were like father's.
Tou-san hires a nanny to take care of us while he's gone, particularly to watch over Mokuba.
For the next three months, Seto and I learned how to selectively tune out the bouts of nighttime crying through the thin walls of the house. There's a stranger in our house now, or maybe two.
Mokuba likes to cry a lot. But as I watched the nanny shake a rattle in front of him, I realized he likes to laugh a lot too.
Before I knew it, time slipped through my fingers, and another year was already gone.
Time was no longer marked by holidays and sweet events, but by an empty house and the scribbling of my pencil in workbooks until Seto got home each day.
I had nothing else to do, had nothing else I really wanted to do.
So I just worked, sometimes with the TV in the background. And I thanked the nanny whenever she made me lunch, and saved enough of it so that Seto could bring some to school the next day. Thankfully, she had a grocery budget included in her paycheck, so at least there was some sort of food to eat.
I turned four in a flash. By now, I had a much better grasp on my Japanese, and Seto kept me in good company. We learned how to play a few new games that debuted this year, like a roleplay board game reminiscent of dungeons and dragons that kept us occupied for a couple months.
Due to the nature of birthday cut offs, I would actually be going into pre-school this year, while Seto started his first day of Kindergarten.
I was glad.
I could finally get out of the house, find different ways to distract myself.
In April, I strap on my own uniform and Seto, rather than Kaa-chan, is the one that holds my hand the entire way.
The room is filled with crying children, and I send my brother one last gloomy look before he leaves. The little bastard, however, just smirks and promises to visit during lunch.
He keeps that promise, but that I can't escape the whining children for the rest of the morning. When the workers manage to nearly calm everyone down, we're all corralled into doing a low-maintenance activity like drawing.
I grimaced as I grabbed a particularly sticky crayon from the box to color in the picture we were given. The other kids were already scribbling randomly over their pages, so I was likely going to have to do the same so I could act my age. Somehow I would have to entertain myself that way for the next hour.
This...was going to be a long year.
(✦✧✦✧)
"Hi, Mokuba." I say softly, watching as he crawls around the living room.
He's looking for his teething ring, so I get it from the nearby table and give it to him. It takes a few moments for his hands to grab onto it, but Mokuba gargles happily and gives me a gummy smile.
I don't even realize I'm smiling back until I pass the mirror in the hall.
(✦✧✦✧)
Another year passes.
Mokuba grows up fast. He learns how to call our names between being messily fed carrot puree in his high chair and toddling around the house.
When Seto and I come home from school, he toddles over, as fast as his little legs can go, and grabs onto our legs.
"Ris-a!" He chirps, and I can't help the smile that melts my face.
"Mo-ku-ba!" I reply, and lean down to give him a hug which he squeals into. Then he turns to our brother, and jumbles out a "Set-o!"
Seto's affection is more quiet and subtle, but he also spares a soft smile and a brief hug for our youngest brother.
Mokuba's turning two this year, which means that his nanny is being switched out for daycare. Hopefully, it would be a little easier on our father, who had been taking longer and longer hours at work-many nights not coming home at all.
Either way, after a small celebration in July, Seto and I have another tag-along in our morning and evening route. Both of us keep a firm grasp on each of his hands, making sure to keep our pace slower and begrudgingly answer any of the millions of questions Mokuba has about the people we pass or the scenery or the weather or his shoes or what he learned in class or whatever else pops into his mind.
And it's fine, it's all fine, until two days later I open the fridge and realize that there's no more food.
With the home line, I called the nanny, who calls my Tou-san. The nanny comes by and drops off some bentos, and the next day I open the fridge to see that Tou-san's restocked the eggs and milk.
I have to stare at the supplies for a second. Think about it for a second.
Seto was seven, I was five, and Mokuba was two. Neither of us would know how to cook for our age, although if push came to shove I could definitely try my best, but I was definitely a little short to reach everything, and it was extremely dangerous if I was actually the age of my body. Did our father somehow forget that?
So once again, I dial the nanny who dials my father, and based on the frequent ringing of the line, I think they get into an argument, but the next day there's convenience store food in the fridge and twenty dollars on the breakfast table.
That's good enough for me.
I save the money, which gets replaced periodically throughout the month. Some of my hazy memories from my past life kick in, and I'm able to run basic food calculations. Sometimes, Seto, Mokuba, and I just swing by the 24/7 store before coming home. Luckily, it was pretty normal in Japan, and particularly in our small town, to have kids running around on the street, so no one spares us any second glances.
Before we knew it, another year passed like that.
At night, Seto and I take turns reading Mokuba bedtime stories like how Kaa-chan did for us. In the fall, Seto helps me dig up our baby clothes to bundle Mokuba up with, and in the winter, I spare some of the leftover funds to buy a small cheap cake and a new toy for Mokuba for Christmas.
In February, I turn six with little fanfare. Some of the money goes into buying Seto's school supplies for first grade, so save for Mokuba, we just eat bread for a few days.
Tou-san leaves a little card with some money for our birthdays, although he didn't bother showing up or even calling.
It was a little disappointing, but his presence is like a ghost, wisping in and out if ever. Sometimes, I forget we have a Tou-san. I think I am forgetting his face, the memory of a child is only ever so long.
Sighing, I just slipped the cash into our supply jar. We were running low on fruit anyway.
(✦✧✦✧)
In the winter, the police show up at our doorstep.
We get taken to the station, where someone questions us very briefly before we're asked if we wanted to see our father. And as I stared blankly at the sunken face of the lifeless corpse that used to be our father, I could only feel the bitter, sour tang of sadness in my chest.
Anger, guilt, and regret all mingled in my throat.
Did he not think we didn't mourn as well? It was our mother, of course we had our own moments of grief! But he completely ditched us. Threw away his life. It was as if to him, we didn't exist, didn't matter.
(Although he might of lost connection with us in the past few years, I can still remember a time when he was one of the people closest to me)(I wish I had gotten a chance to tell him how much he means to me-to us)(if only I had tried to stop him, if I had reached out, if only if only if only).
Our father was dead. He had killed himself, and we were now orphans without a dollar to our name.
Every one of them had left me. My previous parents, my current parents.
The soft rain pitter patters against the window. It's the sawdust in my eyes, I tell myself. That's why they're burning, that's why hot tears keep squeezing out. It's the sawdust from the coffin.
Seto lets me cry bitter tears into his shirt, and I'm glad that Mokuba's in the hallway so he doesn't have to see any of this.
(Unlike them, unlike all of them, and unlike this pathetic dead figure in yet another coffin, I promised myself that I would protect what was most important to me. I promised that I would keep my brothers safe.)
A couple days later, we attended a dreary funeral where random people who I had never seen before whispered behind their hands at the 'poor orphan children' and our so-called 'relatives' robbed us of anything possibly left to our name before we were promptly thrown in the orphanage.
The whole time, I barely managed to reign in my temper amongst the grief, and Seto next to me was staring off blankly into the mist. No amount of childhood maturity could be enough to handle losing everything in the span of a week.
The young caretaker looked tired as she accepted us in the orphanage and showed us to our room, which was designed to be shared with the other young children. There were six small beds, separated from each other by only a few feet with little dressers between them.
We had passed by two other rooms like this, both nearly completely filled by the looks of it. Thank our lucky stars however, it seemed like we were the only kids in this room. It was likely because the other rooms couldn't fit three more, and we were adamant about not being separated.
Seto and I shared a look, one of anger, resignation, or nothing at all. It didn't particularly matter, we both knew the same thing.
I sorted and stuffed our few articles of clothing into the dressers while Seto unpacked the few books and toys that we managed to bring along. Seto puts Mokuba's favorite toy, a squished and half-matted stuffed bear that he couldn't go without, in the bed between ours. Other than that, we didn't really have any other valuables.
Maybe it wasn't the best, or the most comfortable, but it was okay, and it was more than what some of the other kids got.
And most importantly, I still had my brothers. Even if Mokuba cried for a full hour the first day and refused to sleep in his own bed the first night. And wound up in one of our beds again the second night. Then again on the third.
Seto shoots me a glare of annoyance as Mokuba almost shoves him off the bed. I offer the best smile I can offer.
And so began the next few years of our life.