trigger warning: implied rape, blood, war, murder, dissociation, and suicide.
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Were dreams of a child remain nothing but a dream? For we fear that our hopes would shatter, and the wind can drag them to the place we cannot reach. That is how he feels whenever he finds himself looking at his reflection. Like a child trapped in an adult's body; there's a sense of joy upon moving so freely as he can be. However, the terrifying feeling keeps him alive as he senses an immense fear controlling his heart. Shaking uncontrollably, cowering in the face of the unknown. Do adults lie for the sake of themselves? Or do they do it for the sake of not confronting the true consequence of their fate?
It was raining when the man left his daughter. His cold and rough hands were clinging to the small hands of a child, stopping him from crying in front of her lovely innocence. He whispered his promises of joy; of his love which will make him go back to her after the war would die out within their nation. The soldier kisses his daughter's cheeks and with a tear rolling down, he left for several years.
In each letter, his blood would be his ink; his tears would be his gifted gem. With the silent prayers he sent for every paper he folds; the man would look up to the quiet skies. He likes to think his daughter - his very own angel - dwells within the starlight just to aid his homesickness before drinking a shot of sake to soothe his burning throat.
As years passed by, her daughter stopped replying. It caused his heart to rage with anxiety. Hands would tremble not at the sight of his enemies' power but at the thought of his daughter's health. When he was finally discarded, he fled from the battlefield and went straight home. He did not care if he would nearly trip on the shoes of his quick manners and the sight of his house standing, the scent of roses lingered around the air which calmed him down immediately.
"Eh? K*7#@1K0-san?" Familiar voice. He turned to see a woman, holding a higasa* over her tiny shoulder, blocking the sun's glare above the skies. Ah, he recognized her as his neighbor. A smile was plastered on his face, remembering the days in which she helped him raise his daughter's toddler years. However, the woman was unable to mirror his positivity, and instead, her face turned pale as her hand tried to cover her gasp behind. "But the mayor had declared you dead in the war?" (*a Japanese umbrella used for blocking the sun)
His heart was struck with an awful dread. His chest swirled into something sinister from within. Only then when he heard those words, he recalled everything from the letters written by his daughter in their last exchanges. She told him the mayor was kind enough to visit her every day. He would deliver his letters to her and would often ask silly questions regarding marriage and would offer different men for her to date. Ah, so those were lies.
He found her corpse dangling up from the ceiling of his abode. His blood run cold, and he lost his stance, staggering back as he hit the wooden floors while staring at his daughter, barely having anything on but a loose yukata whose silk had been painted with mud. Her grey skin has rose petals in various spots. He sat there completely silent. His neighbor called for help for him. Though he never said it out loud, he was thankful for her immediate action. If only his mind weren't plagued with such malicious ideas, maybe he would have cried on the spot.
He buried his daughter in the field of roses which his late wife has taken care of. Perhaps, this was his fault. Had he known her fate would be soiled by some dirty rat, he would have fled this place and moved into a small village where she would live freely. He endearingly clenched her silk onto his chest; no matter how deep he dug up this earth, he could never find a reasonable pit for him to bury his grief along with his child.
So, if he cannot bury them, perhaps the only way to get rid of this ugly emotion was to give it to the man who caused them.
The mayor begged for his life. Pleading for him to hear his words. However, for every word he spoke, he could tell it was all lies. He watched his eye blink multiple times in just three words. He caught the mayor's lips twisted into a fake smile. Adults really think they can escape with lies they made up for themselves. Tired of hearing him, the soldier slit his throat with ease. The wall was tainted with a rat's blood. He lastly plunged his blade into the criminal's heart, and before he breathed out, a sweet voice whispered in his ears, thanking his father for saving what has left of her innocence.
Upon realizing whom he thought it was, he cried.
-
"I apologize for what you have seen of me earlier. That was not a sight to behold." Kazuhiko let out a lighthearted laugh. We were watching the skies from his window while he was telling the story of the soldier. I was told that there were nights he saw his reflection mirroring the man's and that could feel his hands were no longer small like a child's. An ugly feeling where he cannot help but scream at his own reflection for being a murderer.
I disagreed. "I can never blame you for it. There are nights when you feel your grief settling on your heart like a change of weather. The kind of sadness that you can never describe. How I wished that I could pinpoint exactly where it hurts. But in the end, you could only feel them, and that you hold no power against them to go away. The longer you reject them, the tighter their grasp on your neck, as if it were choking you."
"Do you also feel like your reflection is not you?"
"Always."
We had an exchange of hearts. Kazuhiko stared at me; his lips were smiling. He was relieved that he was not the only one who felt that way. We had a couple of talks after that. Sharing little things that made us happy and content. All those fleeting moments we can never hold onto. The boy in front of me became the man who was tired of the world. These stories made our strings weave into a beautiful embellishment that whenever we look at it, we are reminded how much of a coward we are to face the unknown; the lies we have told to ourselves that only our inner child could ever point out and yell - you're lying!
"Detective, I would like to express my wishes before I depart from this world."
My tongue went bitter as soon as I heard those words from him. I did not like the way he words it out. Why is he giving up?
"Now, don't look at me like that, Sakuya-san!" he laughed at my reaction. Though his eyes nearly cried at the sight of my concerns. He was surprised that I have this sentiment for him. "My operation this week would not get me far. I wish to have my heart given to the boy. Make me his donor."
Kazuhiko had discovered from Ranpo that the boy he requested to see had heart disease. Their mother was seeking suitable donors, but they had no luck by their side. I wanted to ask him when he realized that the boy has his daughter's soul. But I could only keep my mouth shut.
"I thought you want to live longer now that you have a chance to spend time with them. Are you sure you'll be all right with this decision?"
"I could never regret this. But I would be lying if I said it doesn't despair me much to think I won't be there to see them grow once again. But if my heart would give him life, then in a sense, wouldn't it be like I'm with him throughout his life? I don't have a face to confront him even with this kind of a face even. Maybe fate really intends for us to part ways with our former loved ones."
I suddenly recall my conversation with Sakunosuke before, that if I were to meet my younger brother, I wouldn't like the idea of me watching over him anymore. It was the best for us. Kazuhiko probably thought the same as well despite the overwhelming possibility of getting to befriend him equally. But unlike us, his child never gets to remember what it was like to live in the past and I pray to the heavens they wouldn't get the chance.
"Sakuya-san," He called. "I pray for your happiness upon pursuing your truth. Maybe this year, you would finally find the one that would satisfy your heart. And maybe by then, only you can see why your older brother had to leave you behind."
Were the lies we told for the sake of ourselves? I cannot help but wonder if the words spoken by Sakunosuke about how much he cherishes me as his younger sister were nothing but a mere lie for him to comfort me and for me not to question his actions. Would that be the same for Kazuhiko? He was an adult like me. But I had trouble figuring out for he had a mind like one of a child. Nevertheless, I agreed to his request and told his guardian (who is also his doctor), about his wishes.
Doctor Nagamasa was not surprised about it. He was aware of us. He had told me how much my presence was needed now that Kazuhiko accepted his possible fate. I told him to do whatever he can in his operation, and he nodded his head as a sign of promise. But I cannot shake off the feeling that Kazuhiko would never make it out alive just as he predicted himself. I left the hospital before they could announce it. In my mind, Kazuhiko was alive. But no matter how much I try, in the end, we grown-ups keep lying to ourselves.