Chapter 5 - Monday at 6:56 pm…

Makoto sat on her knees on the dining chair so she could lean across the gameboard better. She was careful not to knock any of the mousetrap over as she shifted restlessly, waiting for her Uncle David to roll the dice. She snagged some popcorn from the big bowl on the corner of the table and giggled at him as he rattled the red dice in his hands, first on one side of his head, then on the other, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he did.

"Okay, come on lucky dice!" he said, the English accent in his Japanese a lifetime's worth of familiar but always funny sounding. There was a playful twinkle in his brown eyes that matched the sparkle of the college championship ring against his dark skin. Her daddy had the same ring and said it was what made them brothers.

The dice skittered across the table, coming to a stop on snake eyes. David hung his head in exaggerated defeat. Makoto whooped, but before she could grab the dice for her turn, the phone rang.

The little girl looked over her shoulder at the clock in the livingroom. Almost 8pm. "That's mommy!" she exclaimed as she jumped from the chair and raced David to the phone.

Before picking up the cordless receiver, he made Makoto pause. "Okay, what do we tell your mommy?"

Suddenly very serious, Makoto returned, "We had vegetable skewers for dinner. And I ate two."

"And?"

Makoto glanced down at the red and purple ice pop stains on her white shirt. "I had one red ice pop."

David gave her a wide, toothy smile. "That's my girl."

Clearing his throat and exaggerating his accent, David picked up the receiver and started his delivery on a smart ass joke that began with turning down the music and ended with hollering to Makoto to hide their stash. Before he could get to that last part, though, a confused male voice cut in. "Wh… David, is that you? What the hell?"

"Oh, hey, sorry Hanzo." David shook his head at Makoto and the little girl's shoulders slumped.

Sounding like he had something in his mouth, David's teammate went on, "S'okay." Then the unmistakable chitch of a cigarette lighter taking four passes to light, followed by Hanzo's quick, unsteady clip. "Have you seen the news? Is Makoto with you?"

"We've had the tv off most of the night, and she's right here. Why…"

"Don't let her hear this and don't turn on the tv."

His brow furrowing and something unsettling beginning to spread from his gut, David put his hand over the mouthpiece before bending down to Makoto. "Hey, I need to talk to Hanzo for a few minutes. Why don't you go put your pjs on?"

Makoto frowned at him. With great reluctance, she answered, "Okay. But don't take too long so the phone isn't busy."

After promising to be quick, he waited until the bedroom door closed. "Alright, Hanzo, start over. What's going on?"

A shaky breath came through the receiver. "The plane. They're saying it crashed."

A beat of cold silence passed before his brain caught up with the words. "Nah. Nah, that can't be right. It's barely a puddle jump to Osaka. They're a little late calling, but…" He started backing up until his legs touched the couch and he dropped down onto the cushions, his limbs feeling numb. "Who's saying it?"

"I told you, the news," returned Hanzo. "All of them, in those blurbs between shows. I don't think they know much yet, just that it went down. I… I got the number to call. Hold on."

There was sound on the other end of the phone, Hanzo rooting around for a piece of paper or something. David wasn't listening. Instead, he was leaning over, his eyes closed and his head in his hand, a ringing in his ears that he could feel like a physical thing. And over top of that, two tiny hands coming to rest gently on his cheeks.

David opened his eyes slowly. Makoto stood in front of him, a worried look on her face. She was saying his name, sympathy in her voice.

"Uncle David, are you okay? Does your tummy hurt? You look like your tummy hurts."

He forced a weak grin and ignored Hanzo trying to get his attention on the phone he still held to his ear. "Yeah, baby girl, that's all it is. Just a little tummy ache." He brushed Hanzo off, telling him he'd call back later. After setting the phone aside, he pulled Makoto onto the couch with him and hugged her to his side. "Hey, how about we watch one of those movies your mom sent over? Think you can stay awake?"

Makoto flashed him a wide smile. "I know I can! Besides, I can't fall asleep until Mommy calls to say goodnight. I hope she isn't much longer. But not because I'm tired!"

With a strained chuckle, David got up to start the VCR.

The livingroom was dark and quiet when Makoto woke up. She yawned big, stretching out from the blanket that was loosely wrapped around her. The tv screen was green, casting a halo around it. This annoyed her, because Uncle David wasn't supposed to let her fall asleep before the movie was over. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, yawned one more time, then tried to see around the room to find out where he was. She could hear his voice now that she was more awake. He was in the bedroom talking to someone.

He must have got Mommy and Daddy's call when she was asleep. Makoto frowned, very angry at him. It wasn't fair that he was talking to them and hadn't woken her up like he was supposed to. She gathered the blanket up in her arms, most of it trailing along behind her as she moved from the couch to the short hallway. The door was partially ajar, and she pushed it open the rest of the way, ready to tell them exactly what she thought about being left out.

She stopped short when she saw David pacing anxiously on the other side of the room. He was still in his clothes, though his shirt was loose from where he usually kept it tucked into his jeans. He held the cordless receiver in front of him as he spoke, his voice angry and his eyes tired. He was so focused on the person at the other end, he hadn't noticed her.

"Look," he went on, his Japanese faltering under his frustration, "I'm not asking for intricate details here. I just need to know for sure if they were on the plane and if you people are looking for them."

A slightly staticy female voice answered back on speaker, "Sir, again, I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized to give out that information at this time. I can only take names and a contact num…"

"God damn it!" He slammed a fist down on his dresser, rattling the loose change and car keys he'd thrown on top of it. "I have a six-year-old sleeping in the next room who is waiting for a phone call from her parents, who are literally the only family she has in the world. What do you want me to do? Give her this damn phone number and tell her to call to give you contact information?!"

"Uncle David?"

She couldn't find the angry voice that had been in her head. Instead, what came out was small and frightened. She didn't really understand what they were talking about, but she knew it was bad and it scared her. And the way Uncle David froze and looked at her with shiny, sad eyes made her chest hurt, and her arms clutched the blanket tighter.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the woman on the phone, emotion creeping in as her fake phone voice finally broke. In something like a whisper, as if she were trying not to be heard by anyone else, she added, "It's assumed there are no survivors, and they're organizing for recovery, not rescue. I'm so sorry for the little girl and that she won't get that phone call."

And right that moment, her uncle quietly saying her name with that English lilt she'd always found so funny became the sound of her world shattering.