Chapter: 6

"Conundrum."

Childhood. The time of our lives that seems to have faded away just when we held to it the tightest. The lifetime that we spent with our eyes closed. The time when we hung our sleeves lose, pretending to have no arms, the time we were scared of swallowing seeds because we thought a tree would grow in our stomach, the time when we fell asleep in front of the tv, and when we woke up, someone had already carried us to bed. Shut the fridge door real slow, just to see when the lights went off. The time when we used to think the moon followed our car, and just like that, on the snap of two fingers, you are brought in a world that holds misery and despair; so with bruises of distress and wounds of dolour you come face to face with a beast that can not be tamed: reality.

12 years ago:-

The slight sound of rustling echoed through the empty hallway as the little five year old girl gently flipped the smooth pages of the thick book. Her deep brown eyes, widened with wonder as she came across a word that was unknown to her. She carefully counted each syllable on her tiny fingers and smiled when she felt satisfied. She put the book down on her lap and turned to the woman that sat in front of her.

"Yui-san," mumbled the tiny girl. "What is a father?"

The woman smiled and gently removed a few strands of the girl's chocolate shaded hair from her face. "It's a person who deeply cares for you."

The girl blinked once and her gaze bored into the woman's eyes. "You're a father?" the small child inquired.

The maid giggled. "No, Claire-kun, ladies can't be fathers," she said smiling.

The girl's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "A father is a boy, like Luca?"

"Yes," the woman nodded. "But a bit bigger."

"Do I have a father?" she girl asked grinning.

The woman nodded.

"I want to see him. I want to tell him I care for him too," the girl's eyes gleamed.

The smile of the maid's face slowly faded. "You can't, you see, your father is sick."

The small child grimaced. "Did he see a doctor? Tell him it's okay, he shouldn't be afraid, the needles only prick a bit."

The black haired woman nodded. "I'm sure he did," the woman picked up the book from the small girl's lap. "Did you finish your reading Claire-kun?" she asked, as she quickly tried to change the subject.

"Yes," the girl said bitting her lower lip. "Yui-san, why can't I go to the library near the dining room?"

The woman sighed. "I told you, Claire-kun, ma'am Ingrid has stiricly forbidden it."

The girl pouted and crossed her arms infront of her chest. "She's not nice, she shouted at me yesterday."

The lady gently patted her head. "We mustn't say such things. Now let us comeback to your lesson," the woman pushed.

"You know, I heard that baby cry again yesterday, you lied to me. I saw her, there is a baby in the house. She can walk," the girl mumbled.

"What is it going to take for you to resume your work?" the woman asked astonished. The immense love she felt for the little girl infront of her radiated clearly in her eyes.

The little girl grabbed her own feet and wish a small push, threw her self back, lying on the floor. "Tell me, what's her name," she pronounced each word separately.

She sighed, now concivnced that the girl would not give-up so easily. "Her name, is Katherine."

"Katherine?" she asked astonished. "But that was supposed to be the name of Luca's cat! We decided so! "

"It's alright. There can be two," said the woman, placing her hand on her shoulder.

"No, Yui-san! What if we call Luca's cat and the baby comes running?"

"Well that is a big problem," said the woman amused.

"Yes, I know! But don't worry; I have found a solamution!"

The woman giggled. "Solution, Claire-kun, and yes, that would be?"

"Solution," she said correcting herself. "The solution is, we will call the baby Katie. In this way, no one will get confused," the girl said smugly as though she had shown great wisdom.

The woman chuckled and pecked the little girl on the cheek. "Alright, now, can we start out work again?"

The little girl grinned. "Just one more question."

The woman exhaled. "Yes."

"Will you be my mother?" the girl asked hopefully.

The maid beamed and caressed the girl's cheek guiding her to recommence her reading. The woman's heart was swollen with guilt and pity for the little girl, as she foresaw what was in store for her. She knew that the darkness outlining the child's life would soon deprive her heart of love and consume the light within her.

It was a bit amusing how the feeble sunlight streamed through the spaces in the weirdly entangled branches. It almost seemed surreal, since these days the sun was a rare guest; there were a few ominous clouds in the sky, but the fireball had managed at last to make itself visible. The pale blue blanket that was a mixture of grey fluff and the weak yellow shine, had a peculiar look; as though it couldn't decide whether it wanted it to rain or not.

I fastened the strap of my bag on my shoulder. This friday didn't have the same feel as every other. Maybe it was because this school, which I attended previously more as a death sentence than an educational base, wasn't so to me anymore. Maybe it was because the weekend which was almost as good as a week's supply of new books, didn't seem as tempting as it did to me before. And maybe, just maybe, this was all because of a silver-haired, extremely annoying boy, whom I might have met a few weeks ago in a super-market, and with whom I might, just might have had a clash based on the posession of a box of treats.

I laughed, mentally. Whenever I revisited that argument in my brain, it gave me the urge to jump in a two-kilometer deep well. It was strange, I thought; merely because this new agressive personality I found I was setteling into, was not me. I was usually the peace-maker of the wild west, Switzerland, the humble farmer that grew small, nice crops of rice in harmony with the beautiful southern land of Japan. What?

A familiar car appeared in the school parking lot, just as I walked out of the ground and stopped right infront of me.

"Mr. Domoto?" I asked as the tinted windows lowered, revealing a grumpy-faced man.

"No, Saint Lucas," he murmured opening the door for me.

The name sent a weird jolt in my heart, though I smiled convincingly. "What—what are you doing here?"

"Get in, I'll tell you."

I strapped my seat-belt, just when we were on the drive-way. "Did something happen with.. Asami?" I asked cautiously, reffering to his current girl-friend.

"Uh— what? No, no, it's not that."

"Did you—" read the texts? I mentally completed the sentence.

"No."

"Can I—" ask why?

"It was wrong," he answered simply.

I nodded to the windshield.

"More over," he added. "You were right."

I noticed how he struggled with the last words and a smile crept on my face. He was, admitting I was right? The feeling was good. "Aren't I always?" I asked smugly. "But just so I know, what.. exactly am I right about this time?"

He let out a small groan. Oh, I was enjoying this. "The love and trust thing," he spoke the words with unnecessary speed. The next sentence was merely a whisper. "I love her enough to trust her."

I blinked. The words were so unexpected coming from him, I couldn't find anything to say. Even "oh." didn't sound right. There was a minutes silence. "So, where's my mom? She was supposed to pick me up."

He grunted. "Yeah, about that," he spoke the words slow, unnecessarily slow. Something was fishy. "Took her to the hospital earlier."

"Wha—?"

"Fainted," he answered my incomplete question.

"Why—?"

"Don't worry," he said calmy. "Nothing serious."

"Right," I breathed. "Then?"

"They discharged her early, she asked me to pick-up the reports since Hachiro's in York New."

"Oh, did you check them?"

"Yes," he admitted a bit guiltily. He cleared his throat then. "Listen kid," he said in the voice which was supposed to keep me on my guard. "I've known you since you were eleven. You grew up right infront of my eyes and you're no less than a daughter to me."

I pursed my lips. I was touched, but I couldn't help but feel he was forging me for a storm ahead.

"I know you and even when you try to hide what you feel, I can see it. Hachiro and Hana have always loved you more than you could see, they brought you up like their own, of course you are no less. Now, I want you to be a bit open minded about this," he added. "Read it," he said pointing to a paper file, which was surely my mom's reports.

Something was wrong. I carefully opened it and read the front. I hadn't even thought of a reaction when I straighetend so fast, I thought I broke my back bone. It took me a few seconds to process the words. My heart stopped beating.

In that one moment I saw all my childhood fantasies flash before me. How since the day I turned eleven I would always stare at the family frame, imagining how one more member would magically pop in, and how all those Christmases after writing my letter to santa I would fantasize the little baby that came out of my present box, how all those lonely holidays and vacations I would promise God to be good and listen to my parents in exchange for a baby sister, how that all became a part of my past and just like my other wishes vanished away as a part of my childhood and was locked away in my head in the set of the dreams that would never come true and just like that became a fear, a nightmare. I grew-up and the child that I thought would be the source of my act of redemption, became a horror of repeating the same mistake twice.

It was impossible, how could this happen? It had been more than ten years, what didn't happen in a decade, how could it happen now? That was the whole reason for the adoption, wasn't it? Was I... useless now?

"Stop the car," I said before I knew it. "Please stop the car," I pleaded.

He did as I had asked. "I know," he said from beside me. "I imagined how you'd feel. I'll say this again though. Your parents have loved you immensely and they will keep doing so, but it's time for you to give back. I know you'll do the right thing."

I just kept gazing out of the window absent-mindedly.

"You'll go and tell Hana the reports, alright?"

Mustering a whole lot of strenght, I gazed up and then down, moving my face like wise; which resulted in a nod, I took the paper file and tugged it in the inner pocket of my coat. I opened the door. "I need time," I admitted.

I didn't know whether he answered or not, because before I knew it I got out I walked down the footpath, aimless, just wandering, I didn't know where I was going. I was just going, that was all I knew. I watched my chilly breaths float away. I didn't know what I was feeling, all I knew was that I was confused.

After about what seemed a really long time of walking and it was late, because it was now dark, I found myself at the public park. I sat down on the wet bench. There was a fine drizzle pouring, the sun was gone, both from within me, and from the sky but the cool felt good, the rain didn't bother, it was soothing.

I had held back the tears all along the way. Somehow, my anger was connected to my lacrimal ducts, an embarassing tendency; but I fully intended of crying it all out.

"Did you just get kicked out?" a familiar male voice demanded.

I jumped up and involuntarily screamed, my hands flew to my chest.

I saw his dimly lit face, as the street lights flickered, Killua rolled his sapphire-blue eyes. "By the way you scream, you'd think it was the first time," he said in a bored voice.

"What are you doing here!" my voice was loud, really loud and a bit thick because of the tears which were on the verge.

"Must you always ask that question?"

"Are you stalking me?" I said, unsuccessfully trying to control my breathing.

"Yeah, when did you find out?" his eyes seemed dead.

I heaved a huge sigh and put my hands on my face, sitting back down. "Idiot," I muttered and I gulped, keeping down the huge lump in my throat.

I saw two of his fingers, which held a linear structure moved to his mouth. At his exhale, a fine puff of smoke was emanated.

My eyes widened. "You smoke?"

"No," he said repeating the same action.

I coughed, flapping the air away with my hands. "Do you know how dangerous that is?" I demanded, my voice hysteric.

He rolled his eyes and bent the cigarette with his fingers and threw it away.

I just kept staring at him. This boy had a screw lose.

"I'm stalking you, what's your excuse?" he asked.

I stared at the wet grass. Deciding whether or not, I felt like talking at all. I took a deep breath and forced my voice out. "It's... complicated," I concluded.

He leaned his head back and crossed his arms behind it. "Well you know what they say about complications," he said in a casual tone.

"No, I don't," I said trying hard to stop my voice from breaking.

"Complications," he repeated. "They knot your life together but take half of it away while you untie them."

I blinked a few times keeping back the tears. "What— what does that even mean?"

He shrugged, and by his expression I could tell he was holding back a smirk.

"You just made that up, didn't you?" Oh, god. Please, please don't make me cry infront of him.

"Sounded pretty fancy, though, didn't it?" he said, his voice gaining a bit of life.

"Very funny," I bit my lip, turning away.

He sighed. "So, did your cat die, and your mom didn't let you have a proper funeral; or did you give wrong directions to chipmunks on their way to Antartica?"

"No," I murmured. "I don't have a cat, and just so you know chipmunks don't have the proper adaptations to survive in Antartica."

He rolled his eyes. "There's this thing called humour, look it up."

I scowled at the grass. "There's this thing called being an insensitive moron, you're being it now."

He gazed at me with a look of complete innocence. "I am capable of being very sensitive," he said in a light tone. "You just side-track me, so, I have to cover-up the sensitivity with humour."

"I don't side-track you," I informed him, fighting back the tears.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Why are you here then?" he asked smirking.

"I could ask you the same thing, and why are you s-smirking?" It was the edge, I could tell, it was over for me.

"You're doing it again," he said in a highly amused voice.

I took a small breath. In that moment I was just a frustrated, miserable idiot. I hated the world, I hated the tree that was infront of me, I hated everything and most of all I hated myself. I felt like causing myself immense pain, I deserved to be punished for my selfishness. An unwanted and worthless freak, who was accepted so warmly by two people she never could have even dreamt of, and this was how I chose to repay them. I felt sadness at something that was likely to cause them joy. Suddenly I wanted to tell him all about it, just so he could laugh at me, and hurt me; and maybe, just maybe if I was lucky he'd run off and tell his cousin and they'd laugh at me together. Maybe even the tree could spare a few chuckles.

I held my breath as long as I could, but then it was all over; the waterworks started. Involuntarily I sobbed hard.

In my peripheral vision I saw fast movement, I could tell he was startled by my reaction. "Why y-you're—crying?" he asked astonished.

No, I belong to a pack of mer-people, we communicate through our eyes. "Yeah! yeah I'm crying! Go on, you can l-laugh about it. Go, t-tell everyone. Tell your c-cous—" I was unable to complete the sentence, my throat refused to speak. I waited for the chuckle that never came. He wasn't laughing, why wasn't he laughing?

There was a pause in which he dug his hand in his pocket and pulled it out again. "Here," he said, to my surprise it was a tissue.

My hand was trembling, but I managed to take it. I wiped my eyes and took small breaths.

"Can I ask what's wrong?" his voice was amazingly soft and soothing.

I sniffed. "You w-won't understand," I said trembling.

"Try me," he said looking deep in my eyes.

I sighed. "My mom.. she's pregnant," I forced the words out.

There was another pause. "And that's bad?" he asked softly.

"Yes, I mean no! But.. I don't... I told you. I-I'm adopted, and people adopt children w-when they don't have their own. And—and when they do, the adopted ones become.." I found my self unable to say the word.

"Useless," he concluded for me.

I stared at him and sighed. "Yeah."

He exhaled, and I saw him smile. It was a genuine grin. Still smiling he placed a hand of his eyes, and lowering his head he shook it. "Ah, Claire," he breathed.

I blinked, startled by both the words, the 'ah' which I never heard him use and the 'Claire' which he so rarely said.

"Would you believe me if I told you, I know how you feel? Even though it sounds like something from a movie?" he asked with a smile in his voice.

"No," I replied without thinking.

"I suppose not," he shrugged but his smile was still in place. " You know, I was only one when my brother was born," he told me and there was an utter and complete silence. "I didn't like him much, he was new, I didn't know him; nor did I want to. I was always..." he paused to find the right word. "Independent," he said the word half laughing and half smug, as though he were remembering his childhood misdeeds. "I had this yo-yo, I loved it," he added with a pause. "I kept it with me at all times, I was little, but I was good with it." He was using his hands to illustrate a circular shape. "I was playing with it one day, when he saw it, he was really small, a year or two. He wanted it," he said pensively. "It was mine, why would I have given it?" at that particular moment it seemed as though he was asking that to himself. "I never liked to.." he paused again. "Share." he grinned.

A small smile formed on my lips as I remembered our version of him not liking to share with the chocolate balls. "Shocker," I said under my breath.

"He started crying though," he told me. "And I gave it to him, and you know what he did?"

"Broke it?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "He smiled. For the first time," his gaze was far far away as though he were seeing it now. "I realized that day, that just by giving up something I liked, I found something I loved."

I was speechless, I just stared at him.

"See, that day, I learned something; It depends on you, whether you want something to look forward to or something to dread, just depends on the angle you choose to look at things from."

"I-I'm selfish, I should be happy 'cause my parents would be and instead I.."

"You're not selfish," he assured me. "You're human," he concluded.

I found myself unable to answer.

"I haven't met your father, but have you seen the way you mother looks at you?" he asked me as though I were crazy.

I just blinked.

"I guessed as much," he said shrugging.

I stared at my hands on my lap for a few minutes and took small breaths. I felt a strong affection for this boy sitting next to me, who was always miraculously annoying, but right now, I didn't think there would be someone who could comfort me better than he just did. It was amazing how just in a few minutes he was able to reveal this new side of him. Behind that casual and teasing cover there was a sensitive guy, who could somehow even understand this clumsy mind of mine. At the moment all my fears, and problems seemed stupid. "Do you live with your family?" I found myself asking, before I could even sort the words out. Why the hell...

And he immediately went rigid, which assured me that the conversation was over. "No," he answered coldly.

I sighed and stood up. "It's getting late, I should... you know— get going."

"Right."

I sightly bit my lip, I half expected him to ask to walk me home. Disappointed, I rubbed my eyes once and walked forward. I took only a few paces when I turned back. "Hey, Killua thank you—" I stopped at once because the bench was empty. Which left me wondering whether or not the former event was just fragment of my imagination.

It was that evening, that pleasantly humid evening, that I realized it was okay. Life was, okay. There always came a time when I stumbled and fell, but there was always someone to pick me up, so, it was okay. Nobody's life was perfect, still, it was okay. When it was all over, and after the tears, it was okay. There was all always gonna be a conundrum, but it wouldn't come without a solution.

Here I was, just an ordinary girl, with a messed up past, but it was okay. And then there was him, Killua, a mysterious, extraordinary boy who made me feel really warm and did funny things to my heart and smelled really nice, there was always a time when he shut me out when I got too close, but it was okay. He was just a book, with the pages hidden behind the cover, which, I would eventually manage to open. Only if I would have known then, that flipping through those pages wasn't just a game, but it was danger.

It was a five minute walk back home and it had stopped raining, but the footpath was wet. So, I tripped two times until finally I made it. I glanced once at my watch, it was seven. My mom was probably worried sick about me. I smiled once to myself and pulled out the tissue a particular silver-haired boy had given me and sniffed it. Just as I thought, it smelled exactly like him. I felt my pocket for the paper file and then standing for a few more minutes I tried to decide whether I'd tell her myself or just hand over the document while imagining my mom's reaction to the news I was about to give her, giving up, I decided to walk inside, knowing that it was the only way I was going to find out. Killua's tissue still tight in my palm.

The warmth in my palm, is the fire in my hand

each heartbeat of mine is borrowed, like the hour-glass and its sand.