Chapter 4: Regrets and Rededication

"Mako, it's time to wake up."

I had heard those words before many times, but this was the first time they came from Grandma.

"Ugh… really?" I said, forcing my eyes open.

"I know you're not going to school today, and… all things considered, you most likely didn't sleep well, but it's still best to get up on time," Grandma said. "I think your mother would say the same thing."

It was at this point that it dawned on me just how much my life had irrevocably and permanently changed. Every morning for the rest of my life, I would be waking up without my parents.

All day, I looked for my parents around the house, in their usual places; Mom and Dad's room, Dad's office, the living room and the kitchen. In the evening, I watched the driveway for their car, until I recalled that it had been totaled in the accident. In all the aspects of my life, from the major ones to the small ones, I had counted on them being there, and while a day was not enough to get used to the fact that they were no longer in my life, it was enough to drive home that I could no longer deny it.

And as I went to bed again that night, I realized that if anyone woke me up from now on, it would be Grandma or my alarm clock. My life had changed, in large ways and small, in obvious ways and subtle ones, but for the most part, permanently.

The funeral, held the next day, was, more than anything, depressing. Any part of me that was in denial about my parents being dead faded the moment my grandmother and I arrived at the funeral, but I still felt as though I was not yet ready to face life without them. And yet this, like many other things, was not something I could postpone facing until I was ready, and the same went for those who, like me, were orphaned at a young age.

My parents' remains lay in two wooden boxes, with pictures of them in happier times being all that was left to illustrate them. Then, the boxes were inserted into the crematorium, and reduced to ashes. All that remained of the two people who brought me into the world and raised me could fit into a small urn even I could carry. Were our lives meant to end this abruptly and this senselessly? Were we meant to leave so little behind?

I suppose the large number of people who attended was proof that my parents were well-liked, and that in their lives, they had left an impression on the people around them. But it also showed how large a hole they left with their passing, and each person bore their share of the pain of loss. How many funerals of family, friends and other people I cherished would I have to attend? Was this what I had to look forward to when I joined them?

Although I could never go back to the way things were before life still had to go back to a normal routine, and I returned to school shortly after my parents had died.

"Good morning, Mako," Saori said as we walked to school on the first day of class I attended after the funeral.

"Good morning, Saori," I said in an unenthusiastic tone that would have indicated severe depression if Saori used it, but was no different from my standard demeanor in the years to come.

Some people, after a tragedy like this, vow never to get close to anyone again to avoid getting hurt. But even back then, I knew that was impossible. We mourn the loss of our loved ones because they are important to us, and if we cut ourselves off from others, it's an ultimately empty existence that is no different than the end result of losing everyone we value. The truth was that I did love my parents, and that the pain I felt came from a sense of loss and regret.

But make no mistake; events like these do impact people, and I did change over time. Likely the result of seeing how much I could regret after losing my temper and speaking in anger, I became more detached from my emotions. As a result of being exposed to the harsher side of life at so young an age, I became more cynical and sarcastic. And after learning what it meant to experience loss, I lost all patience I had for people who obsessed over trifling things or thought themselves on top of the world. It wasn't entirely removed from my previous personality as an aloof loner, but people rarely make 180 degree turns in their personality, and never do so overnight.

I'm sure Grandma and Saori noticed how I had changed, even if they didn't openly bring it up, like the proverbial elephant in the room.

"Mako, I know there's not much I can do for you, but at the very least, I can listen to anything you want to talk to me about," Saori said.

"That's good enough," I said. Indeed, I had many wishes, but most of those were beyond the power of Saori or anyone else to grant. But Saori did what she could, and that alone was enough to touch me in that time. I smiled as much as I could manage to express my gratitude.

"Mako, I've been meaning to ask this for a while now," Grandma said one evening relatively soon after the funeral. "But isn't there something else on your mind at the moment? Immediately after you heard the news, I heard you apologizing to your mother."

I sighed, realizing that I could no longer keep it to myself, as shameful as this admission was.

"There is," I said. "Just before I left for school on the morning Mom and Dad died, Mom and I argued about my schoolwork. Firing off one last parting verbal jab, I ran out of the door while we were angry with each other. While I was walking to school school, I, with Saori's help, realized how ungrateful and immature I'd been. And now my mom's dead, most likely dying angry at her bratty, lazy daughter, and there's no way I can take back what I said or tell her how sorry I am."

A pregnant pause ensued as Grandma considered what I had said.

"I'm not a mind reader or a spiritual medium," Grandma said. "But when she married my son, your mother became part of the Reizei family as much as your father was. I don't let just anyone into the family, and I had all sorts of expectations for your mother, all of which she met or exceeded, and she struck me as especially kind at heart, caring for your father for a great deal and saying that she wanted to win my approval so that, as she put it, the two women most important to him would be able to get along, since we'd all be part of the same family if she married him. Those thoughts you assume she had at the time of her death are just not like her."

"I… hadn't heard that," I said, having never been told the story before, although I had heard that maternal grandmother and both my grandfathers had passed away by the time Mom and Dad married.

"You should really know your own mother better than that, Mako," Grandma said firmly yet compassionately. "She might have a temper, but she could never hate her own daughter, and I'm sure she had forgiven you and sought a way to make amends with you while still trying to help you succeed."

I remained silent as I considered what Grandma had said. She obviously had no way of knowing or verifying what she had said, but she said it with such conviction and sincerity that I found myself unable to deny it. Shouldn't I know my own mother better than that?

I also began to see things in a new light, stopping my focus on myself. How many years had it been since Grandma's own parents had passed on? And if I had lost my parents, hadn't she lost her son? In spite of her grief, she chose to press on even when it was difficult, for the sake of looking after me. And what could I do, other than eat the food she brought home and go to school?

I decided then and there that it was time to find out. I wanted to prove to Mom that I could succeed at something beyond the call of duty when I tried. I wanted to repay Grandma for taking me in and caring for me, as well as do what my parents would have done for her.

"I've decided, Grandma," I said. "I'm going to do my best in school and graduate as soon as I can, so that when I do, I can be the one to look after you."

Grandma smiled for a moment, touched, but then after assuming a contemplative expression for a moment, shot me a skeptical glance.

"That's all well and good, young lady," she said, "but how can you expect to take care of me when you're not even ready to take care of yourself?

She had a point. I was not yet ready to leave home or meaningfully lessen how much she had to support me while raising me. Then again, the response to that was fairly obvious.

"Then, we'll have to do something about that, won't we?" I said.

"You're going to have to show up on time if you want to graduate on time," she said. "You might as well start with that before you move on to anything more ambitious."

"All right, all right," I said.

It was refreshing in a sense to see Grandma gradually get back to her old grouchy self. Ever since my parents died, she had been unlike what I had remembered, and I wasn't sure whether it was due to her own grief or out of consideration for mine. Like with me, she would likely never fully recover from the loss- her temper was in part due to having been exposed to a lifetime of hardship, with this tragedy being only the latest- but this seemed to be proof that she was able to move on and return to what might be considered normal.

Over time, I started seriously applying myself in school, and soon rose to the top of the class. Getting up in the mornings was difficult, but Grandma told me that if I didn't get out the door and reach school on time, I would hear from her. One lecture from her on my tardiness was enough, and on the days to come, I was able to get out of bed on time, even if I had to drag myself out the door.

A few months after my conversation with Grandma, I met Saori in the morning again, on our walk to school.

"Good morning, Saori," I said, speaking first for once, after I noticed she was oddly silent that morning.

"Morning, Mako…" Saori said.

This time, however, I noticed that Saori was oddly gloomy and depressed. Something had happened to her, if nowhere near the same magnitude as my hearing of my parents' deaths.

"Is something wrong, Saori?" I said.

"My parents weren't happy about how I did on the last test," Saori said. "I need to get my grades up, or I'm in real trouble. So, Mako, could you please help me study for the next one?"

"Sure," I said.

For some people, deciding so easily and so casually would seem to be proof of insincerity. But would it be right to refuse Saori? I could think of no reason why it would, and it seemed like an easy thing to help her out.

"Thanks, want to meet in the library after school?" Saori said.

"Let's do that," I said.

"Mako, what's 496 divided by 16?" Saori said as we studied together in the library. "Long division's hard for me."

"31," I said, working out the equation in my head almost instantly. "It's basically just division with bigger numbers."

"Yeah, but how do you carry the numbers and all that?" Saori said. "When I did it on the last test, I got 36."

"Basically, you do it like I showed you, from right to left."

"That's not helping…" Saori said with a sigh.

Unfortunately, helping Saori study was more difficult than I thought. She wasn't stupid or lazy, but she was on a different speed than I was. It took time and effort for her to learn things, and it was occasionally difficult for me to grasp that, like a runner taking a walk with someone on crutches. Explaining things in terms simple enough for someone who had difficulty with it was no easy task, since I had a hard time getting myself into the mindset of such a person.

But a part of me realized that while it was easy enough for me to give up or slack off as soon as it became boring, difficult or otherwise unpleasant, if I were the only one concerned, doing so would be unfair to Saori, who was desperate for help and counting on me. And so, I knew that for her sake, I had to persist and had to succeed.

"Ok, let me walk you through it," I said, then proceeded to demonstrate the problem to her. It was a long, and somewhat painstaking process, but ultimately, it worked.

As the teacher handed back the next test, I found myself barely noticing my own perfect score- which I had expected to get all along- and waiting eagerly to hear Saori's score.

"Mako, thank you so much!" she said exuberantly while showing me her test paper, "My score went up this time!"

"You're welcome, Saori," I said, with a smile.

It was a start. I wasn't quite ready to care for an aging grandparent, but I was able to be there for a friend when it counted, doing something that was not necessarily easy for me. I realized that I had a long way to go, but hoped that I could gradually mature and prepare myself over time. More than anything, it felt good to be able to use my intellect for someone who needed it.

Eventually, the time came for us to graduate from elementary school, and I did so at the top of my class. In our society, graduating from elementary school is an important rite of passage, since it means going off to middle school at sea, and living on one's own.

Part of me celebrated this development as a commemoration of moving forward, but part of me, a part that has never forgiven myself for my mistake, lamented that the last my parents saw of me was as an ungrateful and rebellious child, rather than someone who was moving upward and onward, and they could never be there for a day like this.

After the ceremony, Saori and I met up with my grandmother and Saori's parents. After the Takebes congratulated Saori and I, Grandma stepped forward.

"Saori-chan, I'd like to thank you for being there for Mako," Grandma said. "She's not the easiest person to be friends with, and it has been a difficult period in her life, but it means a lot to her. I hope it's been just as meaningful for you."

"It certainly has," Saori said with a smile.

"Yeah," I said.

"Come on, can't you say it better than that?" Grandma said to me.

"I thought you said it pretty well," I said. I find talking about myself to be fairly difficult, since I'm a girl of few words. Telling my story is just one of the many things that are difficult for but beneficial to me.

"Now, now, what's this about?" Saori said, trying to change the subject in addition to her apparent curiosity about why Grandma wanted to speak with her.

"Ah, yes, you do have my number, right?" Grandma said to Saori.

"I do," Saori said.

"When the two of you are at middle school- and, if you end up going to the same place, high school- give me a call any time Mako starts slacking off," Grandma said, and my face tightened in horror. She glanced at me before continuing. "But it's possible that a simple reminder to Mako may be enough."

As much as I feared Saori making a call to Grandma, this time, I recognized the meaning behind it. Grandma wanted to, in her own way, keep watching over me, and keep me on the straight and narrow, in the way that seemed to come most naturally to her.

She was correct when it came to my having to learn how to be independent. Living and going to school on my own was the natural next step for children my age, and I had to learn how to take care of myself if I wanted to take care of someone close to me. I didn't quite know how long or difficult the road toward this goal would be, but it was beneficial to me, and one I would have to walk if I aspired to anything more than that.

Omake

When you get to my age, you often find yourself outliving those closest to you. My grandparents died by the time I graduated from high school. My parents died when my son was in college. My husband passed away shortly before our granddaughter Mako was born. But never did I expect my own son and his wife to die so long before I did.

Makohad lost her parents, and at such a young age. It soon became apparent that she regretted parting from her mother the way she did. Unable to apologize to her mother, she sought some way of easing her pain, or perhaps proving to her mother that she could live up to her full potential and use it for a good purpose.

When Mako stated her intention to look after me, I had mixed feelings. This was the first time she had ever expressed any sort of ambition beyond what was required of her, and it was altruistic. On the other hand, it had hints of youthful overconfidence and focusing on the future at the expense of the present, like planning the great adventures you will have at sea before you even have a ship. How could she drop everything at all hours to care for me if she couldn't even get up on time? She was not yet ready to do chores for herself, so how did she expect to help me with errands and other things that had become more difficult for me?

Of course, my pride came into play. I had difficulty accepting that as I grew older and my health worsened, there was an increasing list of things that I no longer was able to do. And while our culture stressed filial piety, which played some role in why Mako chose to take on this duty, what did it say about me if I had to accept help from a child?

But I also had no intention of providing a burden to Mako that she was not yet ready to take on. I also hoped I would not add to the poor girl's grief with yet another untimely passing. I'm not the best at expressing those feelings but Mako was many things to me- my granddaughter, my son's child, and as much my only remaining family as I was hers- and I wanted her to have as happy and normal a life as she could. But then I also realized- if she could find happiness in looking after me, would it be right to deny her that?

Everyone, it may be a little longer before I join you. I have a goal in my twilight years- to look after Mako until she becomes a woman who can keep her promise, and to ensure that she learns everything that she needs to know in order to take care of herself and those she holds dear.

Author's Notes

Thank you for the reviews.

NCYamato: That's part of the reason I wrote this fic. Some future chapters will allude to Mako's perspective on events in the series, detail how they affected her, and show some events that I think happened but weren't shown, such as when Saori alludes to Mako's worrying about Miho in Episode 7.

Hisako can be a challenging character to write, because she, being a Tsundere, doesn't always show her true personality. Her insisting that Mako get back as soon as possible during her hospital visit in Episode 7, for example, can be attributed to a mixture of pride (telling Mako not to treat her like an invalid), concern over Mako's academic status (the comment about Mako being late), and a desire not to impose on Mako. As such, it's a bit of a balancing act to show her temper without making her seem too harsh on Mako.

This chapter is meant to show where Mako got the idea of wanting to graduate so that she could be by her grandmother's side .The next ones will show the various difficulties she encounters while trying to live up to that self-imposed vow; as those with New Year's resolutions can attest, it's not always a simple thing to change your behavior.