Children must be good at hide-and-seek. If not, bad things happen. Yet, no matter how good they are, they are always found.
They lose once their eyes close and lose more after they open them. But they are not even sure if they can open them again.
"Hush for now, sweetie." I should have noticed the tremble in my mother's voice back then. Moments ago, just before I sliced my birthday cake, I requested to sleep for a while after a dizzy spell. The next thing I knew, Mom and I were hiding in the dark closet like we're running from the devil.
Turns out, we were.
"Hush."
But as a child who hated two things at the moment, I was bound to complain why one, we were shrouded in the dark and two, playing an untimely game on my birthday. I wriggled against her tight, restricting hug. I was nine back then and knew nothing. Until finally, I freed myself from her and out of the closet.
"It's hot!" I filled my lungs with air. She went after me in panic and dragged me back to the closet. I resisted. She froze at something behind me. The It came for us, and It was not uninvited.
"It's always a pleasure to see you, Yumiko Kyosei."
A dignified man with a smile so amicable, I thought he was a friend of the family. But he held scissors in his hand; blood dripped all the way down to the white fluffy carpet of my room.
"Please, not with my daughter watching." Mom pleaded after she snatched me and be hid behind her.
"Mommy, is he your friend?"
"Ah, principessa," the man said. "The fruit of a yakuza and a mobster, mix of two bloodlines. What a pretty woman you will be, soon breaking hearts, like your mother." His fleeting adoration was soon replaced with disappointment. "But you should've listened and stayed quiet."
In fear, I gripped Mom's dress. I'm used to scary men come and go in our home. They have scars, tattoos hidden in suits and glares that even angry people on TV could be scared of.
As a curious child, I peeped once while Uncle was having a meeting with his friends. One of them offered something on a handkerchief soaked with blood and begged for mercy. As I squinted for a better look, it was his finger.
Uncle took out his blade and cut the man's neck with no words of goodbye nor 'Hmm' like he does when I barge into his office. Blood spilt on the floor and no one spoke a word. His other friends sat there with approval while watching the body shook and squirmed until it stopped moving. I heard myself scream until they found me in the next room.
'Sorry,' Uncle said. 'But you'll find out sooner or later, we are not saints, even you. Your blood has been tainted even before birth, little sinner. You may not understand this now, but always remember, you are a Kyosei.'
I asked why he is bad and killed a man, but he just kissed my forehead.
'I'm envious. When I was your age, I had killed two. Your innocence is something we can't afford. There are no bad people, neither good people. We are mere survivors, doing everything not to cease breathing as human instinct and to some, rule, like our forefathers and their forefathers did. Weakness will bury you dead or alive. From now on, whatever you see or hear, don't be afraid. We only do that for the family.'
From then on, I slowly accepted the life we have. My only attachment to goodness was my mother. 'You may belong to a yakuza family, but it shouldn't stop you from living your own dreams.'
I spent time with fierce men and realized they were not that evil. They were just... people doing crooked things to survive the crooked world.
But this man in front of us did not belong to any of them. He was different.
"Hide and seek ends here," he said.
I looked up to my mother, as she's looking down on me, eyes with tears.
"My life," she said after pulling me at the corner of my room. It was one of those times that she called me names; sweet names, weird names, cute names, all with titles that I belonged to her. I loved all of them, but not this time by the tone of her voice. "Close your eyes and make a wish." She smiled longingly, then turned me to face the white wall. "It's not your fault," she whispered and let go of my hand.
Short silence passed, my eyes were tightly shut. In the darkness, I counted wishes; a new doll, fewer bodyguards, a playmate and to go to a real school like other children. I was young, felt invincible and was entitled to selfishness. If I knew better, I would've wished something else to save us.
There were arguing whispers that I couldn't understand. Then I heard a whimper, a loud gasp followed by silence.
"Open your eyes now, principessa."
The man, who had lost his smile, carried my mother in his arms. I was supposed to run or scream, but my world stopped. Children at my age should be afraid. But I couldn't. I was frozen at the sight of my dead mother. I knew what's happening; I've seen dead people before, bathed in their blood and labelled 'traitors' by the clan. My mother wasn't one of them.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" He gently combed my mother's hair.
I nodded. Are we still playing a game? How about my cake? Where is my Uncle? Why is my mother dead?
Why?
The man carefully laid her on the floor and walked towards me. "Go and tell them the news." I couldn't even blink while he caressed my face. I forgot to breathe.
"I'll come back, but now, just go and send my message: "Never make Gustavo Qapone angry."
"Y-You... killed... her..." I found my voice at last, trembling. The pumping in my chest was so loud it hurt.
Everyone can die, but not my mother. She is a Kyosei. She is invincible. There are loyal people who'll die for us, or kill for us, Uncle said so.
"Keep this as my present." He placed the bloody scissors in my hand with the carved letters on its handle. Per il sangue. "It means 'For the blood,'' he translated. "Revenge is a bittersweet fruit, child."
He kissed my forehead and turned me to the direction of the door. "Go out, enjoy the party and slice your cake. Happy birthday." Then he disappeared to the night.
With my trembling hands, I gripped the scissors and walked to the door stiffly. The scream that should have escaped my lips was stuck in my throat like a choking hand.
'You should've stayed quiet.' I should have.
I walked out of the bedroom and stared into the empty hallway, except for two fallen bodies, pooled in crimson red. One was the maid and the other was a bodyguard. It was as if my head would explode; a rebellious force tried to purge out the content of my stomach. I was just unsteadily walking towards the light and the merry buzz of the gathering. There were whispers in my head and my vision blurred. The throbbing headache stopped me a few times and my vision tilted along with my balance.
"H-Help." For the second time, my voice crawled their way out, yet still so small and helpless. Everything I said was swallowed by the music coming from the ballroom. Finally, I stood at the top of the grand staircase for all the guests to see.
The music kept playing a happy song; it was my 9th birthday, after all. I'll never forget how the smiles twisted to fear as I stood there, my white frilly dress tainted with murder. Everything rushed in—horror and devastation.
A shrill cry of horror came out of my mouth. "It wasn't my fault," I whispered. Then everything went black.
***
For The Blood