Vocaloid Tales: The Nutcracker

Chapter 4: The Snowfield

He held his head in his hands as he slumped over the familiar wooden table of his childhood home, still trying to absorb the tragic events he'd been party to.

His sister had passed on before his very eyes.

The last time he'd seen her she was a young girl, just barely keeping the house afloat but swearing it would stay in shape so her brother could come home from the war with his soldier's pay and care for them both again.

Just a day ago was their first – and last – reunion. He guessed she must have been a lovely young woman before the consumption withered her away, her brown hair cascading around her emaciated body. How surprised she'd looked to see her beloved brother, to the contrary, had aged not one day since the day of their separation.

So obsessed had he become with his life in what could only be described as a fairy tale that he'd neglected to ensure something very important.

That time in both worlds flowed identically.

How had he begun to recall her? He'd been in his workshop and found himself starting to construct life-size clockwork replicas of people... it wasn't until he'd painted the last face on the last doll that he realized he'd constructed replicas of his parents and sister. To him, it had only been a year or two settling in and starting his business.

Outside, it had been so much longer.

The faerie had appeared so apologetic... she'd been certain he had nothing to return to, so she'd never told him. He'd become so immersed in his new life he'd never wanted to speak of his humble past. And so he'd let himself drift away from his past... she explained to him that the length of time and his rudderless existence made it difficult to send him back to the correct time, but she'd try and get him as close as she could.

As he'd learned to his horror, he'd missed years of the world he'd once been part of. And all that time, his dear sister had waited patiently... gotten married, had a son, lost her husband, and now...

At first all he'd done upon reaching her bedside was stumble over his apologies as he'd clutched her hand close. And all she wanted to know was – had he been happy?

She smiled as he tried to tell her of his new profession, of the wonderful world he'd found... he began to promise to take her...

... and her face froze, a doll's empty gaze remaining as the life flowed out of her. With shaking fingers, he pressed her eyelids closed for the last time.

After the fact, he'd stumbled through notifying the proper authorities of her passing. There was little estate to manage – his family had never had much in the way of means. There was just one loose end...

"Uncle, you must eat something. Mother wouldn't want you to starve."

A warm bowl of porridge sat in front of him. He looked up at the sapphire eyes of the blue haired young boy next to him. "Come now... I assure you I didn't burn it."

He was still just a child... Even if he insisted was " a grown up 9 year old!" on meeting his uncle for the first time.

And yet for a boy who'd lost everything, it was almost eerie the way he smiled and never once cried over his great loss.

The boy sat down with his own food. The toymaker made his best effort to eat in spite of the rock knotted into his stomach. "I heard you telling Mother you were like... an inventor... a clockworker... oh, and you make toys. That's so amazing!"