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"Remember them."
"Remember them." Sabo finds himself in the middle of darkness as the same voice echoes, telling him to remember. "Remember who?!" He frustratedly replied. He keeps looking around, but it's only pitch black until something brightens up behind him.
"Are you sure you don't want to let your hair grow?" Sabo looked back and saw his younger self sitting on a chair, feet dangling, as a tall woman behind him chuckled when he nodded. "What a shame. I want to see you with long hair." Sabo could only see the silhouette of the woman; he's sure that she is blonde too, but her face is unclear.
"I will let them grow once I leave this country." His younger self replied, and the woman hummed. "You know I can always take you three away from here." the woman responded. Sabo wants to get near them; he wants to see her face.
"I know that, Ka-****, but we can't do that. I, A** and Lu*** promised that we would start our journey here." What did he call them? Who are they? Sabo's heart is aching like it is being gripped, hard enough for him to lose his breath.
"Sabo." The boy hummed, and he tilted his head up to look at the woman. He can't clearly see her expression, but he knows she's smiling. "Always remember that ka**** will do everything for the three of you." His eyes shut as he felt soft yet slightly chapped lips on his forehead.
Sabo's eyes fluttered, and he felt his cheeks drench with tears. "I will do everything for the three of you, Sabo, because I love you three." Those were her last sentences before he woke up. "Three? But who are the other two? What is their relationship with me?"
Who are you? Why do you talk so gently to me as if I were your son? Who really are you?" Sabo was full of questions, but none of them were answered.
"Kaasan." He unconsciously mumbles, which has taken him aback. "Are you my mother?" His heart and head stung. Was she his mother? Without second thought, Sabo jumps out of his bed and rummages through his wooden cabinet, looking for the only thing that identifies him as Sabo.
Once he saw it, he immediately stretched the old cravat as his eyes landed on the messy embroidery of his name. Sabo thumb cares about the thread. It might be poor work, but he was sure that person gave all their best and heart to embroidering it. "I will practice more so I can give you a better one." He heard the voice of the woman in his dream.
