Putting A Broken Glass Back Together

by A.Al 9

For all of Jizo Nishizumi’s life, she felt as though there was something missing. She would look to the people around her, the way thought and acted, and she knew, deep inside, there was something wrong with her. For all that her life had to offer, she would try to fix it, to try and make herself whole again. Even if it meant picking up each broken shard of glass, one at a time.

1. Prologue: A Girl Lost At War

Warning: This Prologue contains depictions of violence, drug abuse, sexual abuse, death, and other similar themes. The author has attempted to portray these with as much seriousness as they deserve.

Prologue: A Girl Lost At War

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Disclaimer: People who are suffering from mental illness are not inherently more violent, nor are they precondoned to any sort of behavior. Like all people, they are products of the ways people treat them, and are deserving of the love and kindness any other person should get. They need help and support, not condemnation or shunning.

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Maho Nishizumi sat idly behind the mourning old lady, uncertain of what to say, as she looked over the ceremonious grave of a young girl.

The day prior had been like any other, with Maho sorting through documents, until she was handed a letter of invitation. Now, to anyone else, Maho would've completely ignored the request. The past few weeks found her busier in life than she had ever been before, with her ending the final semester she had at Kuromorimine, and her quickly approaching transfership to a German university. Transcripts needed to be sent over, reports needed to be written, papers needed to be signed, it all led to her having no free time in the slightest. This was confounded by the fact that she still was acting as the Commander of the Kuromorimine Senshado team, despite no longer technically being a part of it. She wished to send off her faithful platoon with as much information and skills as she could, so at the very least when she would be away, she could see her team on the news prospering. All of this, not mentioning the constant hassle she was receiving from MEXT officials, who couldn't seem to leave her alone despite her constant refusal of all their demands. They wanted the best high school Senshado commander in all Japan to go to a Japanese University. The thought process made sense to Maho, but still, she was her own person. And with the approval of her mother, Shiho, she had no reason to listen to them. Still, that didn't stop them from trying, and she had to meet with them multiple times as a result.

It is easy to say that Maho Nishizumi was both busy, and stressed, to a tipping point. So, when some random stranger sends her a letter of invitation, she would have ignored it without a second glance. However, on this letter, was a seal that made Maho pause in her quick dismissal. There, at the center of the letter sealing it, was the crest of the Nishizumi family. Not just that, but it was an old version, one that had been out of use by them for nearly two decades. Normally, the seal of the Nishizumi family was only used by those of the head family of the Nishizumi, her family. The only way for whoever sent this letter to have one is if they had some close relation to a deceased member of their family, and that they were themselves, were a branch of the Nishizumi.

When Maho opened the letter, it was simple, without much left for the imagination. Handwritten black ink wrote upon the white pure paper something more akin to a plea than an invitation. Signed with a simple 'Sakura', they wrote desperately of how she wished to see her as soon as possible, and for Maho to come as soon as she could spare the time. Other than that, the only thing on the paper was an address that Maho swiftly looked up. It was a small but wealthy looking flat out in the countryside, far away from any major city, with at least a couple hour drive between them. Learning this, one might think Maho would refuse this mysterious relative either way, with how much time it would take. However, in truth, Maho found herself curious about the nature of the invitation. Just who was this person that she had never met before? And why would they want her to visit? There were many Nishizumi relatives she knew. Some were in business, some politics, and others simply settled down to live pedestrian lives. However, this 'Sakura' lived out in the countryside, far away from any normal Nishizumi life. Almost like a hermit, that is what Maho thought, and one who had a deep relation with her own family. Of course, there was also the fact that Maho was hesitant to refuse an invitation from a member of the family in the first place. Before she moved to Germany, she wanted to make sure everything was settled back at home, so as to leave no skeletons in the closet so to say. So, with all this in mind, Maho decided to take the next day off and visit this stranger.

Driving herself, and telling no one but her sister of her destination, Maho only arrived at the countryside flat by early Evening. The sun hung high in the sky, with the surprisingly hot breeze pushing the grass fields that surrounded the road she drove on. There was nothing around except for the occasional farmland, odd home, or river. Eventually, passing over a small hill, Maho came into sight of that wooden flat that was the home of this stranger. Pulling to the front of the house, she found there was no driveway to enter into, in fact, there was no at all either. Whoever lived here was either not home, or simply had no car, either choice made no sense. The letter clearly told her to visit whenever she could, so it couldn't be the former, however, what sort of person could live out here in isolation without any way of traveling back to the cities?

Dismissing these questions, Maho decided to just park on the side of the road, doubting anyone would even make their way through these parts. Stepping out the car, Maho walked up to the front entrance of the flat, and knocked gently. After she received no response, she knocked harder, but still got nothing. After a moment of hesitation, Maho turned the doorknob. Opened, she thought as much, as she made her way into the home. Taking off her shoes, she shouted, "I'm coming in," in hopes of getting the attention of whoever was home. Her voice echoed, literally, throughout the home. There was little furniture in any of the rooms, with a wooden floor pattern going throughout the entire house, leaving nothing in the way of her voice. Yet, despite that, no one seemed to hear her. So Maho walked through the house, from one empty room to the next, not finding anyone. Until, finally, she came across the main living area of the home, which opened up directly into a backyard garden.

This garden consisted of many different kinds of fruits and vegetables, with enough to feed at least a dozen people, Maho thought. Traveling throughout the garden was a small path made of stone, and as Maho stepped onto the clear path, she marveled at the beauty. Whoever made this… It must've taken them years, at the very least. The green and pure vegetation, the countless different ripe and plump fruits, it was all something which showed a dedication which impressed the heiress. Still, she had this stranger to find, so, taking one last passing glance, Maho walked deeper into the garden. Finally, after a minute or so, the stone path ended. Entering into a field, that was nothing of note, except for a single peach tree. Yet, sitting at the base of the peach tree, was the first person Maho saw. An old woman, wearing a kimono, sat on her knees facing the tree. Specifically, facing what Maho could only slightly make out as a picture frame. Maho approached from behind the old woman, and nearly spoke out, but stopped just before and sat.

That was where she was now, as Maho Nishizumi sat idly behind the mourning old lady, uncertain of what to say, as she looked over the ceremonious grave of a young girl.

In front of the old lady, Maho saw, was three offerings. First, on the left, a set of incense, which remained unlit. Then, in the middle was a wooden bowl. In the bowl, nearly overflowing it, were bright and ripe peaches. Food and incense were standard offerings for the dead, she knew, however, it was the third and final object on the right which caught her attention the most. There, lying just beside the other offerings, right beside the bowl…

Was a dull, rusted, small kitchen knife…

…Maho said not a word. After some time passed, with nothing but the breeze filling the air, the old woman spoke, "Thank you," Her voice was raspy and dry, as if she hadn't spoken to anyone in months, "For accepting my invitation. I know how busy girls your age can be."

Maho silently nodded, "Of course, I would never refuse a member of the family, especially considering the…"

"That old crest I had lying around?"

"Indeed," Maho confirmed, "I had never seen one so old, still, it is a pleasure either way to visit."

"No need to sugar coat this old lady, I'm just surprised your mother even let you come, considering where we are."

"My mother?"

"Yes, that little Shiho, she was always so strict. I hope she wasn't too burdensome on you."

Maho shook her head, "No, she has been good to both me and my sister… But, I must ask, who are you?"

"Ah', where are my manners, my name is Sakura. Sakura Nishizumi."

The heiress's eyes widened. Nishizumi, did she really say Nishizumi? That couldn't be. The Nishizumi last name was reserved for the head family, her family. Only herself, her mother, and Miho possessed those names, and the only other person she ever knew who had such a name was her late grandmother. Her grandmother never had any siblings, neither did her mother, and the Nishizumi name cannot be passed onto by a male, so where did she get her Nishizumi name from? For a moment, Maho thought she was lying, but quickly dismissed it. What reason would this old lady, Sakura, have to lie about such a thing?

"That surprised you? I suppose they wouldn't teach you about my family."

"You are…" Maho paused, "A member of the head family? But… My apologies, but are you somehow related to my mother? Or grandmother?"

"Mmm, relations, that is how we decide the Nishizumi name, isn't it? Well, I'm not directly related to your family, just a distant relative… Tell me, are we still doing Senshado? It's been years since I last ever checked up on that."

"Are we still doing…" Maho's eyes widened even further at the question, "Of course, the Nishizumis have always been prideful in Senshado."

"I see… And are you doing it? You are the heiress, correct? At least, that's what I have been told."

"Indeed. I am the next heiress, and I was the commander of Kuromorimine these past two years. I plan on studying art abroad, in Germany, as well."

"Germany, you say? How unexpected. The Nishizumis have always been in Japan, for as long as I can remember, at least."

Maho's voice grew louder with passion, "I believe in that, we have erred, greatly. Forgive my prudence, as you are a Nishizumi as well, but it has been a great disservice to our name, and to our style of Senshado, that we refuse to expand."

"Ah', my goodness," The woman said in surprise, "You really do seem like… Well nevermind about that. Still, you have nothing to be forgiven of. Though I am a Nishizumi, I was never one for Senshado, despite my trying."

"Really?"

"Yes, I…" The old woman looked on to the portrait hung on the tree, "My younger sister, she was the extraordinary one."

Maho followed her gaze, and she stared at the torn, black and white photo. It was of a young girl, of modest build, in a standard Kuromorimine student uniform. She looked to be around Maho's age, or maybe a year younger. The picture, in of itself, was unremarkable. Most likely a graduation photo, celebration photo, or something else. However, Maho couldn't help but focus on the girl's smile. For the life of her, Maho couldn't make out just what that smile meant. She clearly wasn't just smiling for the photo, that much she could tell, so then, what was it?

"This is her burial?" Maho asked.

"Not her burial, she is far away in some graveyard, but this… This is where I honor her." The old lady looked down to her three offerings, "At least, as much as I can. But I doubt she would've wanted much anyway."

Maho slightly tilted her head in confusion. "Forgive me, but… Why not honor her at her grave? Surely… That would be more appropriate."

The old lady chuckled, "I would love to, young Maho, but you see, hmm, I don't know where she is buried."

"You don't?" Maho suddenly said, slightly louder then she intended, "Apologies, what I mean is that-"

"No, you don't have to explain yourself. It is a disgrace, that I don't even know where she is buried. Really, no one does. A dishonor I will take with me to the afterlife."

The heiress wanted to respond, but didn't know what to say. How was she supposed to consolidate the old lady? If no one knows where her sister is buried then… The blame cannot be placed on her. Yet, for some reason, Maho knew Sakura believed it was her fault. Yet, Maho had to speak up. "Can't you just, well, search for her burial site? I'm certain you could find it somewhere. Perhaps looking for it online, I could show you how."

"I wish I could, but that just isn't possible."

Maho shook her head in confusion, "Why not?"

Now, the old lady sighed deeply. From her kneeling position, she turned around, and faced Maho directly. "My sister… She was the greatest Senshado master I had ever seen, that Japan had ever seen. She received honors, awards, and recognition beyond what anyone believed possible. Truly, she was something special, like a shooting star, or a rushing river. It is such a shame that today, no one can even recall her name. After she passed she was completely forgotten, as if she never existed."

For the first time, Maho could tell that the old lady was becoming whelmed with emotions. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her head was tilted down as her body trembled slightly, and her voiced crack. How quickly she went from seemingly like a soul at peace, to one distraught with sadness, and it even affected the heiress. Suddenly, Maho became filled with shame. This old lady… There was no way she was just overexaggerating the matter, no, nothing but the truth could compel such a reaction. This made Maho feel the way she was, for never having heard of this great Senshado player of the past, and having left her legacy behind to be forgotten. And so, Maho did the only thing she could think of doing, and tried to apologize.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. That was nearly fifty years ago now."

To that, Maho's stoic expression finally broke, and for a brief moment, her mouth went agape.

"F-fifty years ago?" Maho stared back at the portrait, "But that would mean…"

"You're right in your thinking. This photo was taken the year she died. Her graduation year from Kuromorimine."

"I… I don't understand…" This didn't make sense to Maho. It simply wasn't possible that she didn't hear of a Nishizumi, one seemingly as skilled as the girl in the portrait, having passed right before graduation. Such a thing would make national headlines, and the girl would go down in the history books of the Nishizumis with honor and reverence. Kuromorimine would have pictures hung up in their Senshado halls, like they did herself, her mother, her grandmother, and many more. At the very least, the most bare minimum, they should know where she was buried. What kind of young girl, a Nishizumi of all things, who passed away so young, would be forgotten. Who was she?

"I find this all… For lack of a better term, a bit puzzling. There have been countless Nishizumis to graduate from Kuromorimine, but there are no records of such a thing happening, not to say you are lying, but… I will ask bluntly, how are you related to my family? And where did you get the name Nishizumi? If there are no records of your sister in the family catalog then…?"

The old lady smiled a bitter smile at her questions, "Maho, do you have time for a long story? I called you here today, because I wanted to tell you of what happened to my sister, to my family. I… I thought that I would take what happened to my grave. But as I near the end of my life, I cannot bear facing my sister again, without having ever told anyone. No, it's simply too much, to have it be forgotten for the rest of time. I'm sorry. I know you are extremely busy, and you probably have more important things to worry about then some generation old happenings, but still," Maho was taken aback, when Sakura suddenly prostrated herself before her, "Please, I can think of no one else I should tell, other then the next heir to the household. If there is ever to be any honor to be brought to her legacy, then it can only be to someone like you, forgive my selfishness."

Maho took a moment to regain herself, breathed in heavily, "Stop, please, I… I will listen. I too wish to hear what you have to say, you don't need to convince me anymore. I will heed you."

The old lady returned to her kneeling position, and a tear strewn her wrinkled face, and she smiled "You… Thank you. Even now, I can still remember the pain I felt all those years ago, on that stormy day."

In front of that grown tree, the three offerings, and the black and white portrait of a young girl, Sakura regaled Maho over the turning evening, of what happened to the greatest Senshado player in Japanese History, whose name will forever be forgotten, the late Jizo Nishizumi.

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Akari Nishizumi was the mother of both Jizo Nishizumi and Sakura Nishizumi. She spent her very young life as most girls born in the early 20th century did, with her own mother, being raised in the traditional style a girl should be raised in. However, even then, the Nishizumis were a proud people. Their family line traced back to long before, during the feudal warring era of Japan, to which their blood held countless high positions with many different lords. That was the past, however, and now, living in Tokyo, this offshoot family of the Nishizumis lived a relatively comfortable life. This was only thanks to the marriage arranged by the Nishizumis, between Akari's mother, and her father. Her father had been the son of the current Matriarch of the Nishizumis, and in order to maintain the purity of the bloodline between them, he was sent to marry her mother, to whom they were third cousins.

Akari's mother spent all her time with her, for she had no siblings. This was not from a lack of desire, her mother had tried to bring about more children, but before they could conceive again, her father was drafted into the Imperial Japanese Army, to fight against the allies during the second World War. Her father, and her mother, with Nishizumi blood flowing through them, highly approved of this course of action. Always looking for a way to prove themselves, her father quickly rose in the ranks of the army, becoming the commander of a tank platoon. Unfortunately for him, he never saw much combat, being stationed primarily on the homefront.

"If I can't battle on a warship, they should just send me off to China, allow me to fight the honorable fight in Nanking, instead of being stranded here on a coastal base." Her father would write back so often. However, for better or for worse, Akari was still too young to even know what was happening. The radio broadcast of Japan signing a treaty with Germany, of the victorious attack on the American navy at Pearl Harbor, of the successful invasion of Indonesia, of the woes of her father, these were simply things she couldn't understand, her brain too underdeveloped to be able to process it. This was in part helped by her mother, to whom cared little to educate Akari, no, she focused on training Akari in the way of being a proper Nishizumi woman, and all in entailed.

She was taught to clean with her bare hands, scrubbing away clothes with hard sponges and soap. She was taught how to cook, learning how to spice and prepare fish, and other traditional dishes. She was taught how to properly bow and address those of higher standing. Overall, her mother wanted to raise Akari into a perfect, dutiful, bountiful wife, one that could earn the Nishizumi family a good marriage, and bonding, with another well off family. To be married off, to ensure the purity and stability of the family. That was to be the fate of Akari Nishizumi.

That was, until the fire began to fall from the sky.

She was still a young girl, about five or six, when she first heard the sirens of an airstrike blast through the entirety of Tokyo, and she would forever remember the schism that followed. People to whom her young mind saw as friends and family, and to whom her mother told her should be 'respected,' pushed past each other like animals, trying to get into the bunkers first. From them, she could hear the deafening airplanes flying overhead, the sound of people screaming in fear. After the first strike, her house, and every other house in the neighborhood, was destroyed. All their belongings were reduced to nothing but soot and ashes, and they found themselves with nowhere to go. Akari and her mother were forced to live on the street for some time, no longer cleaning clothes, cooking food, bowing in honor, no, now all Akari was taught to do was survive. 'Survive', her mother would say, 'we must survive until your father comes back.' This went on for months, with her and her mother scavenging and begging for food, and running into bunkers when the sirens sounded. She just wanted to go back to her nice, comfortable life in her old home, with her mother. She wanted to see her father, who left for war while she was still an infant, she wanted to be with her parents.

During one night, huddled together in a dark and damp bunker, with the sound of thunderous planes overhead, Akari whispered in her mother's lap, "I promise I'll be good from now on, I won't cry anymore, so please, can we go home already?" Her mother brought her head to her chest, and for the first time in her young life, Akari saw her mother cry. "I know," Her mother said back to her, "All I want right now, more than anything else, is to see your father."

It was only a few days after that, when they both had resurfaced, that another fire raid happened in their area. Only, this time, they couldn't make it. Too many people from other regions traveled into their small, ruined area of Tokyo, since it was one of the few that still had safe bunkers. Too many people were pushing and pulling that day, leaving many scars and wounds on the young girl's body, which would persist with her forever. Too many people, and Akari became lost from her mother. While she herself managed to make it into a bunker, her mother was nowhere to be found, no matter how much she called her name, asked if anyone saw her, or cried. After the long night was over, Akari wandered the streets alone, searching for her lost mother. Until, finally, she found her…

…All that was left of her mother was a half burnt corpse, leaning against a wall, in the fetal position.

'Survive', her mother would say so often, 'We must survive.' Whenever they were searching for food in a destroyed house, waiting out the air raid in a bunker, whether they were washing clothes together with soap, learning to cook, honoring their elders, 'Survive', she would say, 'The Nishizumi must survive'. And so, despite everything, in spite of everything, the young Akari continued to struggle. She continued the way she and her mother did, making it from one day to another, only hoping to wake up the next morning. All alone.

Months passed, and it was the middle of summer, the hot sun scorching as badly as the flames of air raids. Tokyo was a ruin, and the attacks finally stopped, Akari imagined it was because there was simply nothing left to target. As she traversed the rubble, she found a man using a radio, and asked what would happen next. The man told her that the soldiers who were stationed in the coast would be retreating back into the heart of Japan, in order to make one last, honorable, noble, stand against the savages across the Pacific. At least, that's what the man said, but Akari didn't care. For what she was told, that meant that her father would finally be coming home. She hadn't been able to contact her father since her house was destroyed months ago, and she wanted nothing more than to see him again. From what her mother told her, father was a very brave, and kind man. He was the type of man who would do anything for family. "There is no one in Japan, in all the world, like him. I am honored to be his wife, and you should be honored to be his daughter,' is what mother would say. If he was back, then he could fix everything. When she asked the man with the radio when they would be coming, he told her that the troops were going to be passing the city of Hiroshima, and would be back in Tokyo in just a few days. Just a few more days, she thought, that's how long she had to wait and all this struggling will be over…

…It was a few days later, when the bomb fell, and Akari Nishizumi became an orphan…

The war situation has developed not necessarily to Japan's advantage, declared the honorable emperor, who, just a few days later, surrendered Japan to the allies, and the war was over. English troops quickly rushed from the shore, and into the heart of Tokyo, attempting to round up the people and perform damage control on the crippled masses. Food was distributed, shelter was provided, all in the very same place that they had burned to the ground not a few months ago. There was also an initiative by the Japanese people to reunite lost children with families, and it was this group of searching people that found young Akari Nishizumi, alone and half dead, so thin she appeared like a skeleton.

It would take until the end of the year, when winter came in, for Akari to make any sort of recovery. The doctors she was brought to called it a miracle that she was even alive, saying that there should've been no way for a child to survive like she did. Not long after, she was brought into the fold of a household, adopted it could be said, but that was only in appearance. For the ones who took her in were the few surviving members of the Nishizumi family. She was taken to a home on a hill, one that managed to survive the damage of the bombings, and was clearly more wealthy than even her old childhood home. In the main, large living area, many older men and a woman she had never met before were talking frantically, while she waited quietly on a couch.

"I can't believe it…" One man said, rubbing his nose in frustration.

"We should be thankful even one survived." Another man responded.

"Still, for something like this to happen…"

Akari wondered over what they were talking about, until a woman budded into her conversations, filled with tears.

"For all the members of the main family to die, how terrible!" The lady sobbed.

"Both parents, the grandmother, and all the children, gone, with no grandchild but one. Be thankful we have the one." The man, the same one who was trying to bring reassurances, said, bringing his hand over the crying lady's shoulder, staring in the direction of Akari. The man nodded his head, and another man who was silent until then approached her.

"Listen here, young girl, your entire family is dead."

Akari remained silent, staring into the older man's eyes.

"Your mother, your father, and more importantly, your father's family. Now, since you were his daughter, that makes you a member of the main family, which means it's up to you to restore the glory to our name. Do you understand?"

Akari only continued to stare, blankly, This sort of thing… This is what mother was talking about? She had never met any of these people before, she didn't even know what a Nishizumi was, but… All the times her mother spoke about it, it must be important, so, with a shaky voice, Akari spoke.

"I-I will survive."

The older man smiled, "Well, perhaps not all is lost." He turned back to face the others in the group, "Listen, my daughter, you shall take care of the child for the time being. I have managed to keep our family safe for now, but there is still much that needs to be done, especially with this new English occupation. Raise her until she is ready for marriage."

"Of course, father." The woman said, wiping her tears. "I will not disappoint."

So, yet again, Akari was taken away, to be raised by this strange woman she never knew. Brought to a countryside home, her stranger who was to be her new guardian demanded much of her.

"Look at me, dear," The woman said, "I am your new mother. I need you to forget everything about your old family, so I can teach you the right way, alright? Now, call me mother," When Akari refused to say even a word to the stranger, she received a new scar on her body, a cut across the cheek. As Akari lay on the floor, blood falling, her face expressionless, another girl, roughly her age, stood over her. "I don't understand why we have to take this girl, I want a real little sister, not whatever this is!" The little girl shouted.

"Nonsense, dear, like it or not, she is the closest blood member of the main house left, and we have to respect that, always. Do you understand, my daughter? Even if she is a reject, she is still a Nishizumi, and we must fix her."

The little girl huffed, "Fine, mother."

"Good," The stranger said, "Now, Akari, come, let me show you how to use a washboard."

And so, Akari relearned everything she was taught. Never would she call the stranger mother, never would she acknowledge the girl who insisted on calling herself her older sister, and never would she ever see these people as Nishizumis. Everything they tried to teach her, she would reject, every little thing. They had tried to teach her how to read, first Japanese, and when that didn't work, they tried English, also to no avail. They tried to teach her math, but beyond the most rudimentary equations, she couldn't learn a thing. They tried to teach her politics, and current world happenings, but once again, she showed no interest. Akari didn't care for a word they said. However, she would always pay attention, when they taught her the skills of a woman. Cleaning, cooking, honoring, she only furthered herself in those, and so, despite fifteen years of failure in academics, she was deemed fit to be a wife.

"So…" Akari, now a grown woman, on her twentieth birthday, was called into a meeting with the man who was currently in charge of the family, the very old man who the stranger that raised for the past fifteen years called father. It was just her, the old man, and a third person, a similar old man, who spoke, "This is the Akari you've told me so much about? Hmm, well I must admit, she is a beauty." The man spoke, with a thick English accent. He was pale, with blonde hair, which had begun to gray, and blue eyes. He wore a suit like that of the Americans, and overall, seemed to completely shadow the wealth of any of them. "How I wish I could've had someone looking like her when I was younger, alas, I was married to that hag…"

"Well, good sir," The old man called father spoke, with a servility Akari would've never expected when she first encountered him many years ago, "I hope she is to your liking. Akari here is the most pure blooded Nishizumi we have, it only makes sense that she is the most beautiful, her raven hair comes from her father, you know."

"So it would seem. But," The old English man looked Akari up and down, "She seems rather… Reserved."

"A-apologies about that, good sir, but Akari has always been a… Soft spoken woman, if you understand. I'm sure in no time with a little experience she can-"

"No!" The English man said, "This is perfect, finally, a woman who understands her role. I'm sure my oldest son will love her." The old man turned to the door, "Son! Get in here! Meet your new bride!"

From the door, Akari watched a young man, about her age, step in. He was tall, taller than anyone else in the room, taller than anyone she had ever seen. While she herself stood a meager five foot, two inches, she was certain the young man before her was at least over six feet. He had golden, blonde hair, and blue, piercing eyes, like the ocean. As he walked in with a smile, his teeth were perfectly white, and completely aligned. His clothes were lavish, wearing expensive golden accessories, with fine silk. And his face… A perfect structure, a strong jawline, and a clean shaven beard. This man… For some reason, Akari couldn't help but feel that this man was a noble man, that he was…

"Beautiful…" For the first time, Akari spoke, under her breath. She barely heard herself, and for a moment, she believed she didn't say anything at all, bringing her finger up to her lips.

The young man walked forward, no, he strode forward, to right in front of Akari, her eyes struggling to meet him as she looked up. The young man looked over her in silence, his smile beaming, which only further blinded her.

"Hello." He said, and his voice enthralled Akari, "My name is Michael, could you honor me with yours?"

Her lips slightly parted, "A-Akari."

"Akari, such a… exotic name." Michael grabbed the hand Akari had to her lips, and brought them to his own, before offering them a kiss. "Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

Akari, for the life of her, could not understand what he meant. No, for at that moment, after kissing her hand, he spoke in English. Once again, it enraptured her, this English man. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he carried himself. Just from the few passing moments they were now together, Akari couldn't stop looking at him, and everything he was. This man… he was so much of what so many people she had known in her life weren't. He had to be kind, he had to be brave, she had to feel honored in his very presence. That is what Akari, staring with glazed eyes at Michael, thought. From these thoughts, deep within her, Akari felt something she had never felt before. Something as foreign as the young man himself, a burning fire, that scorched deep within her chest. Despite everything she has been through, in spite of everything she has been through, Akari couldn't help but have this feeling.

And, for a brief moment, her hand held to the lips of the beautiful Michael, Akari Nishizumi, blushed.

Another year went by from that day, and it was made official, Akari Nishizumi, and Michael, would elope. Not now, but most likely in the next year. There was still much to do, bringing together these two massive families, which were separated by a language barrier, and an ocean. On this very day, her twenty-first birthday, a plan was made to do such a thing. Over the decades, the American government invested billions in the reconstruction of Tokyo, and returning it to its former glory. All the old stones and bricks that had laid the foundation of the grand city for hundreds of years, were removed. The roads were uplifted, the houses were cleaned away, and every aspect of the Tokyo Akari once known, disappeared. In its place, the Americans brought their own stone, and their own bricks, and rebuilt the city day after day. They used their own methods, their own architecture, their own ideas, to restore it. And, after the decades went by, Tokyo looked wondrous again.

Walking side by side, Akari held her small form onto the right arm of Michael, as they passed through a busy intersection.

"My angel," Michael said to her, and Akari could feel her face heat up. "This new theater that was built was partly sponsored by my father, so we will be getting wonderful front seats, how good a thing I've gotten for us. Right?."

Akari absently nodded her head.

"I tried to convince my father to open up with something big, to really get these people into what truly is meant by the word 'playwrights'. Unfortunately, my suggestion of Romeo and Juliet was denied." He turned to Akari, "Have you ever heard of Shakespeare?"

Akari absently shook her head.

Michael laughed at this, "To have never even heard of Shakespeare… This place is really beyond time. I will certainly show you a screening of Romeo and Juliet when we return home. Also, maybe Hamlet, I think you would enjoy hamlet. Would you like that?"

Akari absently nodded her head.

"Wonderful. Today, however, instead of any sort of real art, we will be watching something quickly put together by some Japanese playwrights. Of course, with the help of an American industry, I'm sure it won't be all bad. Still though, I'm not too certain of its quality, especially since it will mostly be members of my family attending. My father, my mother, my siblings, some cousins, nieces and nephews, and many more. Everyone in my family from Japan will be at this play, so it better damn-well be good... I invited everyone here, after all, it's my reputation on the line.… Oh', and happy birthday, by the way."

Akari absently nodded her head.

They walked together for a few more minutes, with Akari gripping as tightly as she could to Michael's arm, before they came across the large theater he spoke out. It was, by far, the biggest building in the area. With beautiful designs outlining the walls, and a massive line for the door, it truly was lavish living. However, for Akari, they didn't need to wait for long outside. Approaching a side entrance, the man standing at the door let the two of them in freely, presumably because of Michael's statue. And inside was laid with red carpet, and golden arch stairwells led to different levels, with marble pillars checking the large entrance room. Before making their way to the theater hall, Michael stopped them by a bar, where he passed through the line and went straight for the barista.

"Would you like anything, my angel?" Michael asked.

"I don't know, I've never had alcohol before."

"Never? Well if that isn't a sin…" Michael turned to the barista, and snapped his fingers, "Two glasses of red wine, your best."

After a moment, the barista came back with the finest looking Bordeaux glass she had ever seen, with a liquid so full it looked like blood. Michael took one, handed it to her, and took the other one in his free hand. Bringing his glass up, he gave it a quick state, "Yes, this will do." He said, with a small smile of satisfaction. "You must try this, now," He said to Akari, "Truly, I have the best taste in this entire country. Go on, don't be shy, my angel, just one sip."

Akari hesitated for a moment, before bringing the glass up to her mouth, and drank.

"So?" Michael said, with a pleasant voice.

"It's…" Akari said. In truth, that drink, that expensive little drip of alcohol, which probably costs more than anything she owned in her younger life, tasted like spoiled milk to her. No, that is wrong, spoiled milk was far better than alcohol, Akari thought. "It's wonderful." She finished, before taking another sip.

"Hold on there," Michael grabbed her shoulder, "Save yourself until later, no need to get tipsy before the play. Come, they are about to start."

Hurriedly making their way to the theater, Akari followed behind Michael closely, as they entered in the very front seats of a theater that looked like it could hold well over a thousand people. They sat front and center, with the stage aligned directly with her eyes.

"Really, rather smaller than you would think. Well, they can always expand it." Michael said.

After a moment, and a hush, the artificial lights from the ceiling which had been illuminating the entire room dimmed, and an announcer made it clear that the show was about to start.

When it did run, and Akari watched diligently, the whole play was rather… Terrible. Even though the audience, which was mostly made up of white English men and women, seemed to be loving it, from their cheers and laughter, she couldn't help but find it all just awful.

The play had been about the story of a young, Portuguese settler, who had made his way from Europe, all the way to Japan, in the 16th century. The young settler had come bearing spices, looking to trade with the people of her country, well, 'her country'. Almost the entire stage cast was made of similar English men to the audience. The main protagonist, the side characters, even the background characters, who were supposed to be native Japanese people, were all English. Except, however, for one. The main antagonist of the play was that of a bandit leader, a small and thin man, who looked completely out of place for his role, attempting to rob the Portuguese settler of his possessions. This bandit leader, the man playing, was undoubtedly Japanese, just from the way that he and he alone, out of everything on stage, did not have an English accent. Instead, the man spoke a pure, traditional style of Japanese, no foreigner could speak so easily.

As they reached the climax of the play, the Portuguese settler confronted the bandit leader, and they made their showdown.

"Do not worry," The Portuguese settler spoke to the main love interest of the play, an English woman, who was obviously trying to appear shorter than she was, and who was wearing a poorly put together kimono. "I will protect you." The love interest swooned.

Suddenly, the bandit leader emerged from the side of the stage, wearing a ridiculous costume. It was clearly supposed to be the armor of a Samurai warrior from the same time period, the outline was clear enough, but the entire thing was terrible. The armor was cheap and dirty, hanging loosely from the undercover of the suit, the clanking it made with every step was impractical at best, and the helmet was far pointy then anything any Samurai would have ever worn. The face mask the actor wore, however, was by far the worse. It was truly ridiculous, looking more like a jester than the oni mask it was supposed to be. With large swaying eyes, a nose that was far too long, and a lip that was permanently frowning.

"Hand the girl over," Said the bandit leader, "And all your property too, or it's your life."

"Never!" Said the Portuguese settler, "I worked hard for everything I had, I took risks, and I love this girl. I would never have it all over to an evil man like you."

"Then die!" The bandit leader shouted, before pulling out from his back a katana.

A katana, Akari thought, but in truth, it was just a flimsy piece of plastic, painted to look like real metal, that even now had the curve nearly flopping over. The bandit leader tossed the fake katana like he was juggling, and shouted random nonsense, as if trying to perform some sort of battle cry. Finally, he gripped onto the katana with his right hand, and charged the Portuguese settler.

And, in a flash, the Portuguese settler brought out a flintlock pistol, a fake as well, but it looked far nicer than anything the fake Samurai was wearing. With it, the Portuguese seller pulled the trigger. A loud popping, like a balloon, came from the back of the stage, and a puff of smoke plumed from the barrel of the fake gun. The bandit leader dropped the katana onto the floor, and clutched his chest, faking agony. After a few more shouts of nonsense, and waving his fist, the bandit leader shouted, "Damn you!" Then, he fell backwards onto the ground, with a loud thunk.

The audience was silent for a moment, and Akari wondered how anyone could've thought this was a good idea to create, and then, the whole audience erupted into cheers and laughter.

"Well then," Michael said next to her, taking a sip of his red wine. "Isn't that something."

"I know," Said another man, "Can you imagine bringing a sword to a gunfight? How primitive these people are."

"Absolutely," A third man responded, "And, did you see how curved the blade was, how stupid! And that armor, and silly mask! These people have the most funny of things!" He finished with a laugh.

From her own side, Akari could hear a woman speak, "My, what a charming young man, that Portuguese settler, why, that little Japanese girl should be lucky to have a good man like him."

"Indeed," Said another woman, "If only I could get my own sons to behave like that. How the times really do ruin our children."

Before Akari could hear anything more, Michael touched her shoulder, and she turned to face him. "This was a funny play, I will give those Japanese people this, they have good jokes. And everyone else loved it too. Really, we should bring this to my home, I'm sure they would do well in America. What do you think of it, angel?"

Without a shadow of a doubt in her mind, Akari hated this play, like she had never hated anything before in her life. "It was wonderful." She said to Michael, smiling.

As the days went by, Akari spent the next year of her life, mostly with Michael. Preparing herself for the day they would get married. She would spend time by his side, cook for him, clean for him, get to know and understand the things he liked, the things he disliked, all so she would be a great wife for a great man. And, as her twenty-second birthday came and went, their wedding was soon upon them.

"Now, stand still my dear, we need to make sure this makeup covers all those nasty little imperfections on your face." The woman who was helping her prepare for her walk into the ceremony said, and she was peppered with makeup all across her face.

She wore a white marriage outfit, and a veil, all provided by Michael's family. They would be holding the ceremony in the way the English got married, something she didn't understand at all, nor did anyone explain to her. 'Just go as we instruct,' her assistants would say, and so she did. With every passing moment, she couldn't wait to see Michael again, and how he might look on this day. After a while longer, she was finally told to leave where she was, and follow them to the aisle, where the marriage was to be officialized. As she got closer to the entrance, the old man, the very same one who had first introduced her to Michael, stood at the arched doorway. He wore a fancy English suit, a gray three piece, which matched his completely gray hair.

"Just hold onto my hand," He said, "I will walk you to the pedestal. You, Akari, have done the Nishizumi family proud. With this, our name will surely survive."

Akari nodded, and latched herself onto the old man's arm, as she was taken into the bright, extravagant main hall. Seated all round the walkway, was countless people, all wearing equally expensive clothing. Japanese and English people, mixed together, sitting side by side. However, in truth, Akari didn't recognize a single face, not a soul. Everyone here was a stranger to her, except, of course, the man she made her way to now. At the end of the aisle, on an elevated platform, standing by the side of a pedestal, was Michael. Oh', Michael, how beautiful he looked. Kind. Brave. Divine, truly divine.

Akari reached the end of the aisle, and was let go of the old make, before making her own way up to stand beside Michael.

"You look wonderful, my angel." Michael whispered.

Akari was at a loss for words. The entire wedding, all of it, felt worthless, in comparison to the face Michael showed her now.

Before she could respond, another old man, wearing a gown with gold, and a cross around his neck, stepped up behind them, and stood behind the pedestal. And, after a view more words were exchanged, the old man with the cross around his neck spoke.

"In the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit. Grace to you and peace from God our father and the Lord Jesus Christ." The old man with the cross said, "I will now recite the words of our Lord." Then, after a moment, the old man spoke in English, words she could not understand.

This went on for a while, with English women from the crowd even beginning to cry at the words being spoken, and the English men keeping their heads low. What was being said, what could cause such a reaction, Akari didn't care. The old man with the cross could be saying anything, and it didn't matter to her, so long as by the end of it, she would be Michael's.

After a few more words, the old man with the cross spoke in Japanese.

"Akari Nishizumi and Michael A. Anderson, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely, and wholeheartedly?"

To this, Akari knew what to respond, and at the same time as Michael, answered, "I have."

"Do you, Michael A. Anderson, swear to be this woman's husband, and to be faithful, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and to love and protect her till' death do you part?"

"I do."

"And do you, Akari Nishizumi, swear to be this man's wife, and to be faithful, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and to love and obey him till' death do you part?"

"I do." Akari said. Till death do us part.

A few more words were once again spoken, and they put a ring onto each other's hands, before the old man with the cross continued. "In sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the bride!"

And, in a single moment of fire and heat, Akari leaned for, and kissed Michael.

It was not even a day later that Michael was furious.

The ceremony was over, and all the guests had left, with the halls having been cleared out of most of the decorations. Akari sat alone, still in her wedding gown, waiting for Michael to return her to his home, where they had already spent much time together before. However, Michael insisted that they stay, saying that he had things he needed to talk about with the old man who walked her down the aisle. Right now, he was doing just that.

"This is fucking bullshit!" Michael shouted.

"No, we agreed to these terms the moment you agreed to elope." The old man responded.

"No, we did not. The only thing I agreed to was this: that when we got married and had children, you Nishizumis would get the oldest daughter, and I would get the oldest son, and that I would remain in Japan until you had what was due to you. That's all we agreed on, so tell me, why the hell can't she take my last name?"

"I have told you already, whatever you think you are, she is still a Nishizumi woman, and more importantly she is the-"

"I get it, all that shit about the 'closest to the original family' nonsense you keep spewing. God, I hate you people, and all your backwards way of doing things. I'm, really, are you kidding me? You expect me, an American, to take your worthless name? My family goes all the way back to the original settlers, do you hear me? My ancestors were the first to live in Virginia, and fought in the revolution. Why should I have to change my name for an Asian one?"

"Our decision is final, the answer is no. Don't change your name if you don't want to, but we cannot accept for her to change her name, we are a matriarch."

"A 'matriarch,' he says. You have got to be joking."

"We have given you," The old man ignored Michael's response, "The western style wedding you wanted, we have accommodated you and your family as much as we can, but this is where we draw the line. Now, good day to you, Mr. Anderson. You should go see your wife, she is looking lonely."

Michael scoffed, before stomping his foot, and turning away to Akari. Alone, Akari stared up aimlessly, with a glaze, at Michael.

"Just ignore that, my angel. Simply some minor disagreements between men, nothing such a beautiful woman like yourself should worry about, right?"

Akari nodded her head.

"Good, now then let's go home." He grabbed Akari by hand and led her out, "After we get this child matter settled, then I will just move you with me back home to Virginia, it's a wonderful place, far better than here. After that, then we can change your last name. Would you like that, my angel? To have my superior last name?"

Akari once again nodded her head. She didn't care what last name she had, so long as she could be with Michael.

"Great, you're so special like that. Now, let's hurry, we have a lot of work to do." Michael said with a wink.

And, not a few weeks after the wedding, Akari Nishizumi was pregnant.

And Akari Nishizumi cried in joy. When Michael found out, oh', how he kissed her like she was royalty. Like she was the most precious woman in the world. Akari wished to tell people, but Michael insisted that they wait until after the birth, and she effortlessly agreed.

After a few months of pregnancy, Michael took Akari to a family doctor, where they learned the baby's gender.

"Congratulations, Mr. Anderson." The family doctor said, "It's a girl."

A girl, Akari thought, how wonderful. Truly, nothing made her happier in her life, than hearing that. Already, in her mind, she could imagine all the things they would do together. Her and her new daughter, she would waste not a single waking moment, every second will be cherished. She would first have to go out shopping for baby clothes, and baby food, and a crib, and a griddle, and so many more things. Oh', she didn't even know what to buy, or how much. Well, Michael was well off, she could buy anything she needed. Perhaps a nice, pink dress, for her little baby. With fuzzy wrists, that would be perfect. Akari couldn't wait. She couldn't wait for her first words, and her first steps, her first everythings, everything would be the first time for a newborn, and it all gave her joy. Then, when her daughter was older, maybe around five or six, she could start to teach her how to help her around the house. How to clean clothes, how to cook food, of course, around that age, she should also start to learn to bow to elders, never too early to learn respect. Of course, she wouldn't neglect her child's education. Michael always said how important education was, even for girls. She would make sure her daughter got into a good school, was always getting good grades, and always had a delicious meal packed for lunch. Nothingless for her own daughter. Then, after, when her daughter became older, maybe around twenty, or a little younger, then they could start talking about marriage. Just the thought of it… Akari could see it now; Her daughter would find a good man like Michael, and settle down, just like she settled down. Then, and then, she would have grandchildren. How she longed to be a grandmother. She would be old and aged, and her daughter and their children, and her son-in-law, could come to visit her and Michael. By then, maybe she could start a peach garden, those were always her favorites. Oh' how she longed for it all.

Finally, for the first time in her life, she felt as though a piece of her, of her very soul, was being filled. A piece which had long been missing, and for the first time in her life, she felt complete.

And then, nine months after she was first pregnant, Akari broke into labor. Rushed into a hospital, she felt terrible pain, as she was helped through birth by the nurses. The worst pain she ever felt in her life, but it would all be worth it, as, with one final heave, her new baby daughter was brought into the world…

…And there, being held in her arms, was the lifeless body of her stillborn daughter.

"Here, my angel, drink this."

The next time Akari opened her eyes, she was at home, sitting in front of a table.

"What happened?" She asked

Michael shook his head, "I will tell you, but first," He pushed a glass of red wine to her, "Drink with me."

"D-drink? But-"

"Just," He interrupted her, "Do it for me."

Akari paused in shock, before she took a sip of the red wine, and it was just as disgusting as the first time she tried it. Quickly, she gulped the rest of it down, and immediately had a headache.

"It's terrible what happened," Michael said, "You should've told me you had a weak heart."

"W-what?"

"After the delivery, you fainted, and they ran a test on you. The doctor found you have some sort of heart disease, something that caused damage to your heart, and you were under a lot of stress."

"And what about…?"

Michael sighed, "Our daughter is dead."

Akari could only look on, lost, and broken.

"They aren't sure how, or why, but she only became still near the end. The doctor said it might've been caused by your weak heart, but like I said, they aren't sure. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault."

Akari couldn't even speak, she could barely even breath, and her head suddenly became dizzy.

"Here," Michael poured her another glass of red wine, "Drink another, this will help with your health."

Absent-mindedly, Akari grabbed the refilled glass, and drank it all. Not even the terrible taste could bring her out of her stupor, but as the minutes passed by in silence, the terrible palpation of her heart, and the nausea she felt, began to dissipate.

"Are you feeling better?" Michael asked, getting behind Akari, "You might be a bit more light-weight than I thought. Well, it doesn't matter." He grabbed onto Akari's shoulders, and she shuttered at his touch, "It's a terrible thing what happened, and I am in mourning as well, but still…" Michael's hand, which had been on her shoulder, and slowly wrapped it around to her neck, then down to her chest, "We should try again."

"Please," Akari said, out of breath, her face heating up. She didn't feel like herself. As if, for some reason, she wasn't in complete control over her thoughts. "Not now, please, it still hurts."

Michael brought a finger to her lips, "Do not say another word, my angel, I will do everything. Just listen to me, and I promise you, we will have a child." At his words, and at his touch, Akari let her struggle fade away. Closing her eyes, and leaning into him, their lips met once again, and the night went in a blur. A few weeks later, once again, Akari was pregnant. This time however, she could feel the weakness take her. Her weak heart, which she had up until now in her life did not feel, began to affect her more and more. She constantly found herself out of breath, or being lightheaded. All this, in tandem with the failure of her first pregnancy, led to her feeling far more stressed than she should be. Where she once could only think of the good of having a child, now, all her thoughts are consumed with the possibility that this one could turn out like the last.

Once again, they went to the family doctor, and once again he confirmed, "It's a girl."

"Well," Michael said, "What are the chances of that?"

As months went by, and she neared the date of labor, her health only further declined. She would wake up in cold sweats, she would find herself randomly with fever, she would sometimes enter into states of panic, for the life of her, Akari was not at all in any condition to give birth.

And so, when the day of delivery rolled around, it was to no one's surprise that the second daughter, too, came out stillborn.

"We must try again." Michael said to her, as they both lay in bed. It had not even been a few weeks since the second failed pregnancy, "I know what you're thinking, but we have to try again, we must have a child."

"Please…" Akari uttered, facing away from him on her side, "I feel so weak…"

"Do not worry about that, just lay down, and let me do the rest." Akari turned up, and this time, there was no kiss. No, Akari was barely even conscious for it, and she quickly found herself too out of breath to even remain awake. But, a few weeks later, it was confirmed, she was pregnant for a third time. Akari didn't even want to think about the child, no, she didn't care anymore. For whatever God forsaken reason, she couldn't have a child, and she accepted her terrible fate. Yet, Michael persisted, and soon enough, they found themselves at the family doctor once more.

"It's a girl." The doctor said.

Michael shook his head, "Are you kidding me?" He said, under his breath.

This time, for the pregnancy, it only took eight months. Whether or not that contributed to what happened, Akari didn't know, nor did she care. As, when they presented her with her third stillborn child, all she could do was glare up into the sky, with an empty expression.

The next time the topic of pregnancy came up, two years had passed, and Akari found herself at her twenty-seventh birthday. Thankfully, she had managed to make a decent recovery from her heart condition, the pause is her pregnancy providing her the much needed rest. She was stronger now, and could breathe properly. But still, the faces of her three stillborn daughters haunted her every night, and she was speaking less and less with Michael. On this birthday, she was sitting on a counter, drinking a celebratory glass of red wine Michael insisted she have, while he took a call from his phone. Though he said he would only be a minute, Akari couldn't stop herself from listening in…

"Look," She heard Michael say, "I know about the deal, okay? We both want her to have children, but the fucking- but Akari just, can't, alright. I don't know why- Yes, I know, I tried three times, I know she won't, and I'm just as pissed about it as you. Well what are you blaming me for?... Don't blame me, it was you people who insisted I let her rest, or I would've kept trying these past two years. I told you, all I want from this is a son, I don't care about this other than that. No. No! I'm telling you how it is, I do not care about the 'honor' of your worthless Japanese family name. I'm putting the priority of me getting a son, first, alright? That has always been my main priority-" Suddenly, Akari could hear him hang up the phone, followed by a loud voice thud. "Stupid Japanese mother fucker!" He shouted, "I can't believe it," He said under his voice now, "Three daughters in a row… Nevermind the stillborns, can this woman even have a boy-" He was stopped by the sound of Akari opening the door which separated the room he was in from her, "A-Akari… Listen, angel, I-"

"I'm ready." Akari said, her face red.

"What?"

"Let's have another child. I know, you want a child, so let's do it, my body can handle it now, and, I don't know, but I can feel it, this time, I swear to you, this time, they will survive. Even if I have a bad heart, I won't stop, until I can bear you a child." Yes, she was his wife, it was only expected. That she clean for him, and she cook for him, and she honor him, and most importantly, that she have his children, it is what she was supposed to do. It was what her mother taught her to do, so many years ago. What good was it, that she survived so long, if she couldn't do just that much?

Michael paused for a moment, "Okay then."

Once again, for the fourth time, Akari was pregnant. Once again, they went to the family doctor, and once again, "It's a girl."

This time, Michael was completely silent, but the family doctor had more to say.

"You should know, it's not healthy at all for you to continue to have children."

Akari waited for Michael to say something, but when he didn't respond, she responded, "What do you mean?"

"Well, cardiovascular disease, for one, will always make it a health risk for you at any moment. All the while you are pregnant, you will suffer from it, physically. I'm sure you know the conditions well enough, but still, the more pregnancies you have the worse it will become. Also, even if you get better after the pregnancy, there will always be lasting effects, specifically toward your health. While you may not be feeling it after the last pregnancy, you can't be too sure."

"I see…"

"Thank you for your advice, doctor." Michael said stiffly, "Let's go."

Once again, after a few months, with Akari taking it as easy as she possibly could, the day of labor turned out. It had come, in fact, only in the late 8th month, a few weeks before a baby would normally be due, but all the same. In the hospital bed, with nurses around her, helping in the labor, she heaved as hard as she could, and could only pray for the rest. And, after a moment of rest once it was all over, Akari's world seemed to freeze…

That was, until she heard the sound of a cry, and with it, Sakura Nishizumi was brought into the world…

It was a month they spent together, when others of the Nishizumi family came to take her baby away.

"What do you mean! What deal did you make?" Akari shouted to her husband. They were both in their home, with the baby Sakura laying in a crib, and other members of the Nishizumi family waiting outside. Michael had told her, as gently as she could, that they wanted to take her baby to be raised by another branch of the family, and she lost her mind. Akari began throwing things around, breaking things, and acting out in ways she had never expected was even possible for her. She yelled, she cried, she was in shock. By the end of it, she felt like she couldn't breathe, and that was when Michael revealed the nature of the deal his family made with hers. That they only agreed to their marriage, if the Nishizumis get the eldest daughter, and his family get the eldest son. And even after he admitted that he didn't think they were going to come and take the daughter away, she was still beyond herself, when he said that he wouldn't do anything about it.

"Why?" Akari said, through tears of anger and sadness.

"Look," Michael said, rubbing his brow, "There is nothing I can do about it. This was something agreed upon for a long time. I mean, it's not like she will be gone, they will just raise her somewhere else, you can always visit."

"No!" Akari yelled, "She's my child."

"We can always make another one."

Akari tried to resist as much as she could, but, as her struggles went on, she found herself more and more unable to breathe. The damage in her heart became too much to take, and eventually, as a group of women took Sakura from her crib, and she tried to take her back, she found her consciousness leaving her, and she fainted.

Lying in bed, a few weeks later, Akari couldn't even get out of bed.

"Come on," Michael said, "It's better we try sooner or later."

He got no response from Akari, as she remained completely still.

"No, I refuse to wait until later, Akari. Don't ignore me."

Akari shifted slightly, "Didn't you say you wanted to move to America? Now that they stole my child, what good is there here?"

"I would love to, I'm sure you would love Virginia, but, well, we are going to stay here a little longer. Just to make sure of something. Now, come, you already showed everyone you can have children, you proved us all wrong, so let's have another."

"Please…" Akari said, barely audible, "No."

Yet, Michael ignored her, and Akari found herself completely unable to resist, though she wanted to. Far too tired from everything that happened, and so, Akari just closed her eyes. And once again, for the fifth time, in great pain, Akari was pregnant. And once again, for the fifth time, they went to the family doctor, for the fifth time-

"It's a girl."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Michael said, "Why the hell is this happening to me?"

"Sometimes, these things just happen." The doctor responded.

Michael ignored him, and clutched his head in frustration.

Returning home, not an hour later, Michael approached and dropped a bomb upon her whole world.

"Get rid of it."

It took Akari a minute, for the sound of glass shattering in her mind, to respond. "W-what?"

"I said get rid of it. I'm not waiting another nine months for a daughter that might not even be alive by then, so just get rid of it, and let's try again."

"B-but, I had a child, I did it! You even said it yourself, so why…?"

"Because I want a son. Now, get rid of it. I'm sure if we go back to the family doctor in a few days, he can easily perform the operation."

Akari was shocked, Akari was appalled, Akari suddenly found herself looking upon her husband, the man she had once believed was so kind and so brave, with eyes of disgust. Why? Why-Why, Why? It was her child, "No,' She said, "No! I refuse! All I want in this world, all I want, is a child. That's all I care about, I don't want anything else. I have tried four times now, four God forsaken times, to have one. The first three were taken away from me before I could even hear their cries, the fourth was taken after, and now, you want to take this one away from me as well? Why? Do you want to hurt me? Every time I get pregnant, and I go into labor, it hurts so bad. I can feel my heart get worse and worse with every birth, do you want that to happen to me? Why won't you just wait? And what does it matter, if it's a boy, or a girl? It's my child, it's our child, so why? Why? After three times, how can you-" Akari sobbed, "How can you just get rid of this one, what might be our only child? What's wrong with you? Are you sick? Are you crazy? Are you-"

Before Akari could say another word, she felt a great pain suddenly rise to her cheek, and was thrown to the ground. Reaching up, she touched the red blood which suddenly began to spill from her cut skin. With wide eyes, and tears flowing freely, she looked up to see Michael standing over her. He had just hit her, and she felt dazed, she felt like she wanted to throw up.

"Don't you," Michael pointed at her, with a tone that made Akari fear for her life, "Don't you ever talk back to me. I have provided you with everything. This house, a doctor, I have paid for all the failed pregnancies, I have paid for your food, your water, your clothes. Don't you understand that? Everyone else in this country lives like shit, but I have given you an actually good life. And all I want, God-Damnit, all I want is a son. And you dare say these awful things? That I'm sick and crazy. How dare you!" Michael kicked at Akari, directly in the chest, "I am the man of this household, do you understand that? I will not be talked back to!" With a final shout, Michael rushed into another room, his face red, his clean blonde hair, disheveled. And all Akari could do was clutch at her stomach, in pain.

The next time Akari remembered them ever speaking together was about halfway into her pregnancy, with her stomach truly beginning to show signs of her state.

"After this next month, the family doctor refuses to do anything about that thing in your stomach. This is the last time I am asking you, come with me, and we can pretend like all this never happened. Alright?"

Akari didn't say a word, as she sat at a table, staring ideally out a broken window. When the window broke, she didn't know. Perhaps it only broke recently in the past year, perhaps it broke when they first moved into the house, perhaps it broke when she first met Michael, perhaps it broke when the bombs were dropped on Tokyo, perhaps it has always been broken. Akari didn't know, but what she did know for certain, was that it was broken, and it could never be fixed. Before she could think anymore about the broken window, she felt a pain on the back of her head, as Michael punched her. How often he would come home, drunk out of his wits, just to unleash an anger she never knew he had.

Michael turned away, and fell to a knee, maybe he was drunk, even now. "Oh' God." Michael said, "Why? Three stillborn children, a useless woman who won't even give me a son, all the while being stuck in this worthless country. Why? God?" He shook his head, "This is punishment for not marrying that girl from back in Virginia, just like grandfather wanted, isn't it?"

She didn't know what he was talking about, in his half drunken rambling, nor did she care. With her back turned to him, Michael once again, as he so often did, walked out the door, leaving into the night, to where Akari didn't know. Left alone, she became overwhelmed with her thoughts, her regrets, her pains. She couldn't bear it, she couldn't stop it. Her failing heart, the failed pregnancies, the failed marriage, truly, it felt like she would shatter. So, Akari did the only thing she thought to do, and could possibly ease the terrible pain. In the pantry, in the kitchen, was where Michael always put his bottles of red wine. So, Akari stole a bottle, poured herself a few glasses, and within days, found herself addicted to that terrible, bitter, awful, intoxicating taste of alcohol.

When Akari went into labor, early into the 8th month of her pregnancy, this time, Michael did not show. It was just her, for the fifth time, with a nurse, helping her through pregnancy. Yet now, for some reason, it was easy, being done in just a few minutes. The pain she felt was minor, almost non-existent all things considered, and she was thankful for the miracle. Yet, as she recovered from labor, with her breathing heavy, her heart stood still when she heard no crying. When her fourth daughter was born, there was a deafening wail, yet now, there was nothing. Just like her first three daughters, who had been stillborn, there was only silence. A silence that killed Akari. But, before she could say anything, a nurse approached and handed her the newborn. And in her hands…

…Staring back at her, with blue eyes, in silence, just brought into this world, was her second, younger daughter, Jizo Nishizumi.

She didn't have long to celebrate, however, as one of the nurses quickly recommended that she take the newborn to a doctor. A child being born without crying was, as she was told, a dangerous sign. And so, with fear, Akari took her second daughter to the family doctor she had seen so many times. Where, at the hospital, they performed what they called a CT scan. Sat alone, with her infant baby in a crib, and the doctor sitting in front of her, she was shown a confusing picture of what the doctor said was her baby's brain.

"As you can see here," The doctor said, pointing to the front of the brain, "There has been damage caused to the frontal region of the brain, as well as," He pointed to another, smaller spot, "the Amygdala seems to be greatly underdeveloped. We aren't entirely sure what could have caused this. Anything from physical damage during pregnancy, to certain substance abuses, to stress… It might even have something to do with your weak heart, we aren't too sure…"

"So then," Akari said, "What can I do?"

"The best thing to do," The doctor said, "Is to just raise the child with care. These early stages of development are the most important in cases like these. Mismanaging at this level could lead to permanent, untreatable damage, alright? Just… Treat her like a mother should treat her daughter, for now, that should be enough. When she gets older, then we can look into more specific treatments."

Akari nodded her head, and took Jizo into her arms. She would never, never once, not even for a single second of her life, let her daughter leave her side. She would never let her get lost, never let her be left wanting, never let her get scared. Jizo never cried, and Akari would make sure that for her life, that she would have nothing to cry over. And, as one year turned into two, two years into three, and three years into four. Akari did just that. She clung to the child like it was her only reason for living, caring for it every hour of every day.

On Jizo's first birthday, to celebrate, Akari made the long walk from her house to a nearby large hill. With her baby in hand, she walked along the stone path set out by the people who traversed this forested hill before her, for nearly an hour. At the end of this stone path, at the summit of the large hill, was a wide bridge of wood, which hung a hundred feet above an equally large river. This bridge led to another, much large mountain range, with the river cutting through it all and leading into the greater ocean. But this was enough, for it was this bridge, and this river, that Akari wanted to show her daughter. So, walking out into the middle of the bridge, and standing at the edge safely behind the railing, Akari held her baby out to see the beautiful, ever flowing, ever free, river. "I swear to you," She whispered into her baby's ear, "No matter where you are, no matter where I am, I will never lose you. And no matter who you turn out to be, no matter what you may think of yourself, I will never leave you alone."

As one year turned to two, two to three, and three to four, Akari raised her child with unceasing love. Her daughter, beyond just not crying, which left her needing to manually check anytime her baby needed anything, she went about the early stages of life normally. The doctor said that this was a great sign, and she was thankful for it. She learned to crawl, then to walk, like any child should. She learned to garble words together, then to piece them together, and then, every so often, she could somewhat form coherent sentences. With her first words even being, 'mama', how Akari's face lit up that day. The doctor said that her difficulty to form proper sentences might more be caused by a lack of teaching, rather than any sort of brain issues, and Akari had to admit that. She didn't teach her much, all she did for, was care. Akari didn't want to stress her baby with anything, or anyone, nothing about the real world, nothing about Jizo's condition, nothing, not even about her bad father.

Michael, for his part, was not there in the slightest, just as he wasn't there for her pregnancy. They had continued to be married, with Akari living in the house he had, but Michael rarely ever showed up. He would come, from time to time, drunk and yelling, maybe to pick up things, or leave something, but then he would leave. Always, he would smell of liquor, being gone for sometimes months at a time without Akari even catching a glimpse of him. So be it, Akari thought, let him never show up again. She had survived up until on her own, and she would help her baby survive, without him.

The day today was dark, with storm clouds overhead, and thunder and rain pouring down. It was Jizo's fifth birthday, and since they were unable to go out to see that beautiful river again, Akari was in the kitchen, a knife in hand, cutting up some peaches.

She was five when her own mother died, she could still remember that day she found her after that raid, her corpse half burned. Still, with Jizo standing by her side, looking up to see what her mother was doing, Akari could do nothing but smile. Unfortunately, however, Michael had chosen today of all days to return home after another long leave, and was in another room, talking on the phone. That did not dissuade her, and Akari stopped what she was doing to lift young Jizo onto the counter.

"You're becoming a big girl, aren't you, my little Jizo?"

Wordlessly, Jizo nodded her expressionless face, "That's good," Akari said, "You know, you are getting to that age, where it's about time I start teaching you some things. How about it? Would you like to learn from your mother?" Again, Jizo nodded, "Look here," She pointed to the knife at the table, "Pick that up, and use it to cut some fruit, just like this." Akari picked up the knife, and cut a peach. "These things are as good as any cake, we will eat them for your birthday, since we can't go about. Would you like that?" Jizo nodded, "Alright, here," Akari helped the knife into her child's hand, but made sure to hold onto it herself, "I will help you for now, watch out though, it's very sharp. Now, just like this," Slowly, together, Akari and Jizo cut a single peach in half. "You see? It's that easy. You will make a perfect wife in no time." Akari smiled to herself, and gave a cut piece to Jizo, "Give it a taste." Jizo took a bite from the peach.

"It's good, isn't it? It was mine and my mother's favorite-" Before she could finish, Akari was interrupted by the shouting voice of Michael. "Look, I understand that, father, but-" He was on the phone, how awful a thing, to hear his voice. "I'm telling you, okay, just give me a little more time and I will show you a son- Yes, I know I told you that already, but I swear this time, just one more year, before the year is out I'll- I'm aware, she has had issues having children- I'm not talking about the first three, I mean after the second daughter- I have tried! Just, I don't know why, she won't have any more kids, no matter how often we- But, I'm telling you, please, father I- I know my younger brother is doing very well… No, no please, for God's sake, if you just give me one more…" Suddenly, Michael went silent. "Yes-yes, I understand, Okay- Alright, I'll come home." Akari heard the sound of the call being ended, and after a brief pause, of the quiet sound of Michael sobbing.

Michael, the man she had known now for fifteen years, was crying. She had seen him kind, she had seen him brave, she had seen him noble, she had seen him cruel, she had seen him disgusting, she had seen him angry, but never once had she ever seen him cry. Not when she was first pregnant, not after her failed births, not after Sakura was born, not after she was taken away, never. But, for some reason, deep inside Akari, for some awful reason, she felt the desperate urge to see him… All the times in those bunkers, when she would hear her own mother cry about just wanting to see her husband, one last time, surfaced in her mind. Why, why now of all times, did she have to think of that? So, despite everything, in spite of everything, Akari set down the young Jizo, and walked into the other room where Michael was.

"...Michael?" He didn't respond, and continued to sob, "What's wrong?"

"He disowned me."

"What?"

"My father just called, and told me that he was disowning me, and handing over all our heritage to my younger brother, and demanded I come home to seal the transfer."

"That's… Awful." Akari approached right behind Michael, and touched his shoulder, "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Because… My father is becoming very ill, and he needs a son to take over after him. And since I don't have a son, he gave it to my younger brother, who does."

"Really? All of this terribleness, just cause you don't have a son? That's… Wrong, it's not your fault you don't have a son."

"I know it isn't my fault." Suddenly Michael turned around, "It's yours."

And, suddenly, the face of sadness Akari saw on him turned into one of rage, and, like so often before, the man she once called her faithful, protective husband, lunged at her. Immediately, he struck her in the face, and as she tried to get away, she found herself stumbling back into the kitchen, and falling onto the floor, hitting her head. Yet, before she could stand, Michael already straddled her chest and forced her down.

"It's all your damn fault, all yours! Do you hear me? Not mine. Yours!" Michael wrapped his arms around Akari's neck, and began to squeeze. "I never did anything wrong. It's you! You're what's wrong. Not me. There's something wrong with you! You're the broken one, you're the bad one, you're the useless one, not me! Yet for some reason, they won't let me out of this fucking pointless marriage, so fuck it, just get rid of you, and go home, and get remarried. My grandfather did it, his grandfather too, so why can't I?"

Through Michael's rage induced delirium, Akari attempted to struggle out of his clutches, but, with each passing second, her resistance lessened. Maybe she was the one to blame. Maybe, it is her fault. Michael was this nobleman all the way from America, and she was just nothing, only special from the fact that lucked out and survived. That's all her life has been up until how, stupid luck, Akari thought. Luck that she got out of the war when her parents didn't, luck that managed to marry into a well of family, while everyone else in Japan was left poor, luck that she even managed to have children, despite her condition. Her heart condition, which now, burned like brimstone. Maybe she was the useless one, maybe she was the bad one, maybe she was the broken one, maybe Michael was right. Maybe…

…But still, despite everything, in spite of everything, Akari Nishizumi wanted to live. So, with all she could muster, she tried to resist. As futile as it was, if not for her own sake, then for her daughter's. Yet, as the last of her breath left her, and her heart beat slowed to nothing, and the world turned black, Akari could think nothing of that. And with the final moments of her life, only thought of how she would have loved to cut peaches with her daughter, one last time… Yet, right before it was all over, she felt the grip on her throw lessen, and she took a deep breath. Michael… Let go? She opened her eyes up to him and…

There, still straddled on top of her, was Michael, his eyes widened from something she couldn't see. Yet in an instant, Blood fell quickly from him, covering Akari's clothes and face. Frantically looking up, Akari saw Jizo standing above her, and…

… With that expressionless face she so often saw her, thrusting a kitchen knife, directly into her husband's throat.

Flailing his arms, Michael lost all balance, and fell on his back. With him, the knife in his throat was pulled out, and Jizo stepped back. For a moment, for a single, lifeless second, the only sound that could be heard was Michael, suffocating, from his own blood. It was that sound, which brought Akari back to reality.

"Michael!" She stood and shouted, though she herself was desperately panting for air, she still rushed to her fallen husband's side, immediately putting a hand over his lethal wound.

"I-I'm sorry." She said, to who? Did she say it to Michael? Did she say it to herself? Did she say it to her daughter? To whom did she apologize for now? As she tried in vain to stop the bleeding, she turned to her daughter, who remained standing a few steps away from them, her voice expressionless, with the knife in her hand dripping blood to the floor. Why… Why did this life hate her? Why did Akari have to suffer so much? Why? It was that question which resonated with the beating of her own heart.

"Why… Why- why, why. Why! Why, Wh- Why, Why!" She repeated over and over again. With each plea of 'why' echoing the throbbing in her chest, it's banging going off like falling bomb shells. Why, she asked. Why did she have to lose her parents? Why did she have to wonder around scrounging for food for her own destroyed home? Why did she have to be taken in by an abusive family? Why did the one she had to marry end up being a terrible man? Why did her first three children die during birth? Why did her oldest daughter have to get taken away from her? Why did Michael hate her younger daughter? Why did he go away and drink for the past half decade instead of being with her? Why did Michael hate her? Why did she let Jizo have to see it? Why… Why wasn't she strong enough to protect Jizo from this? How dare she? How dare she let her own daughter see her suffering? Why, she begged, couldn't she stop the tears now? Why was she trying to help this man, who hated her so much? Who made her suffer so. Why? Why couldn't she comfort her daughter. Why did her chest hurt so bad? Why, just like how she never heard her cry, could Akari never make her daughter laugh? How dare she never see her smile? Was she really that worthless? Was she really that much of a failure? Why won't the bleeding stop? Why won't the pounding of her chest stop? Why couldn't she breathe, even though Michael had already let go of her neck? Why couldn't she do anything right? Why couldn't they be a happy family? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why-

Beat. Beat. Beat. The banging of her beating heart, trying desperately to keep up with the hurricane of her own mind, flooded her very soul. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear. She couldn't feel. There was nothing left in existence, but being caught in a terrible rainstorm, drowning, and glass hitting the floor. And when that glass made contact with the floor, it broke into a million, tiny pieces, never to be put together again. And with that glass fading away into nothing, Akari too, with her heart rate rising to a degree so that a human's heart should rise, faded away.

The daughter of this cursed family watched, as her father choked on his own blood, and her mother, who had been trying to help him, fell to her side next time him, tears falling from her eyes, and drooling pooling out of her mouth. She could do nothing, but stare, expressionless, with nothing but the sound of thunder and rain in her ear, the bloodied knife in her hands, and the taste of peaches in her mouth.

It would take a while for the police to arrive, having been called by a neighbor for a noise complaint. They would discover the scene much as it was. Both parents lying on the ground in a pool of blood, and the daughter standing over them. After paramedics were called, Michael A. Anderson was pronounced dead at the scene due to blood loss caused by a deep knife stab wound to the neck, and…

…Akari Nishizumi, after being rushed into an ambulance for medical assistance, due to complications with a heart attack, was pronounced dead at the hospital…

…In one day, in a storm that would live on forever in her broken mind, Jizo Nishizumi became an orphan.

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…The sound of a large naval carrier's horn filled the air on the ocean side bay, where hundreds of new freshman students were clamoring to make it on board, each one preparing for the beginning of a new life. During the early 80s, the United States government proposed an experimental plan to further the education of students all across the world. This plan, though vast, most notably included isolating students in large, cruise-like navy ships, meant to provide for them the perfect environment for developing into young, fruitful, educated citizens. Of course, such a course would have never been allowed in the home country, the people there being far untrusting, would never allow for their children to be shipped off on some boat where they had no access to them. And so, after investing billions upon billions of dollars, a trial run was to be done in the country of Japan, an old ally of America since their defeat during the second World War. They would experiment on the nation until the turn of the millenia, for by then, they would have had ample enough evidence of how students both engaged and prospered in the new learning system, and how it would improve quality of work once they were out into the real world. It has been a decade since they first began, with over a dozen school ships being designed, of which, four were both the most attended, and most funded.

At this bay, on this school ship, was the largest of the most promising of the four, Kuromorimine. A school which saw most of its funding and designs being imported from Germany and the United States, causing it to mirror its Aryan roots, in terms of design. This school had by far the most capable, more efficient, highest level students Japan had to offer. Providing a strict, formal education, that would be found more akin to top level University then any high school. Still, for this reason, it made the only-girls school all the more appealing to the young generation, who saw it as a perfect opportunity to get ahead in life. As such, Kuromorimine demanded their students be far more mature than the average teen girl, far more developed, far more educated, and far further into their life.

Looking into the mirror of a bathroom stall, one such student was making last minute adjustments to the standard outfit every student was issued and forced to wear. Double checking the buttons, making sure the pants were nicely tucked, shifting the little hat on top of her blonde hair so it wouldn't fall off… All seemed well enough. She had nothing on her person, as all her luggage, as minimal as it was, had already been brought onto the ship beforehand, along with everyone else's.

The sound of another horn from the ship, indicating that they would soon be departing on the beginning of their semester-long cruise, flared out. With it, the young girl stepped out from the bathroom, out of the building, and into the light of the bay. Students were quickly rushing onto the stairs which lead up the deck of the ship, and seeing such, the young girl too, rushed to not be late…

…And so, ascending the stairs, Jizo Nishizumi would begin her first day, at Kuromorimine High School.

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Author's Note

Hello.

Well, this was quite the odyssey, at least for me to write. I will admit, that this fanfiction was a bit of a spur of the moment idea that came into my mind, not to say I didn't have planned what I wanted from it. You see, I was reading the amazing GuP fanfiction Dein Weg Is Mein Weg by Rihnoswirl, and it enraptured me so much that I simply could not get it out of my mind after I finished it. So, in order to scratch that itch we so often feel after catching up to a long fic, I decided to write my own, or at least, what could be considered a prologue. So, all thanks to Rihnoswirl, be sure to check out their fic as it is very well written.

Onto matters of the story. To be honest, I think I got quite ahead of myself here, considering how early it is. Whether or not I continue this fanfiction to completion, is still up to debate, though like I said I already know the way I want it to go. So, let me know what you think, and if I should even continue onto the story of Jizo during her high school years.

Speaking of, I will clarify now, this story is entirely OC centric. Taking place decades before the original story, every character will be of my own creation, so if that is a put off to you, I apologize. Still, if I do plan on continuing, I promise to try my best to give you a satisfying set of characters to read about.

Finally, on the matter of grammar, as I so often say. I am a single person writing this, and similarly, I am a single person beta reading my story. This prologue went through a few drafts, and even after it was mostly completed, I still went back and added or removed many things. As a result, despite my best efforts, there still might be an error or two which slipped by. I hope they are not too intrusive on what I mean to be a serious story, but if they are, do let me know. I will take care of the error as soon as possible.

I suppose I've kept you long enough here, you've already read through thousands of words of mine, so I will let you go.

Thank you for reading.

Yours Truly

A.A