Why are you crying…? Are you lost…? Don’t be afraid…I will always be here… Always…
Beep! Beep! Beep! Be-click
I had that dream again; a memory from when I was little. I was on a trip with my family when I got separated from them, I didn’t know how long I’d been lost but I remember being scared. Then there was a figure, I think it was a man but I couldn’t really tell and I didn’t recognize him; he comforted me. But disappeared when my parents found me, I do remember seeing cherry blossom petals in the breeze when he vanished. Maybe he was a spirit; I don’t know anymore. I noticed that the dream has been occurring more frequently than before; is it because of the anniversary of my parents’ death is coming up? Or is it something else?
My name is Chiara Fumatome, I just turned sixteen last month, I’ve been told I have my mother’s round brown eyes, and my father’s height and medium body build, I like to keep my chestnut brown hair roughly shoulder length and in a pony-tail or braid. I’m a second year in high school, and I work part-time at my family’s inn doing odd jobs; like checking people in, cleaning the room, etc. but only when I don’t have school or one of the employees are unable to do so, but I don’t complain. My family was very willing to take me in and I had plenty of choices on who to go with after my parents died, but I decided to live with my grandparents; they live in the area where I go to school and they were closer with me than anyone else in my family. In fact, it was right after my parents’ funeral that I moved in with them, and that was ten years ago.
Today, I decided to take a different way home from my high school, normally I didn’t do this but I knew I have to shop for tonight’s dinner ingredients; normally one of the employees at the inn would do this, or my grandparents, but I was asked to do so after school. One of the grocers that I visited told me to go to Shibuya, where I get better-priced produce. I don’t usually like to travel far from my home in Shinjuku, but I had to get the last ingredients for the meal so I went. I called my grandparents from my cell, when I was already on the train, to let them know what I was planning on doing before returning to the house, they didn’t seem too surprised.
It took the train ride probably twenty minutes to get to Shibuya, and then about another thirty to finish my shopping, but in a small sense of being completely uncomfortable with the distance, it was nice to see a little more of the world. After I was done in Shibuya and was back in Shinjuku, I walked through a local park near my grandparents’ house to get back quicker. Along the way the park lights began to flicker on, had I known I’d be out this late I wouldn’t that taken so long to shop; further down the park path, I noticed two elderly men wandering around looking for something. I wanted to get home as soon as possible, but something told me to help these men.
“Excuse me, are you looking for something,” I didn’t know what to expect when I asked them the question.
The two men looked to be in their late “golden years”, as my grandmother would say; one of the men was completely bald, his head seemed to be quit “tall” or “elongated”, and probably much older than his friend, both men though looked almost identical physically: they had rounded noses and very baggy eyes that they almost appeared to be closed. Their clothes looked worn and old, they looked like monks or priests from an old shrine, but I haven’t seen any monks of their age. I figured they probably wandered into the park by mistake and were looking for the train station.
“Yes, we are looking for the Kumano Shrine,” the little bald man responded with the sweetest grin I’ve seen.
“Do you know the way? I’m afraid things have changed since the last we’ve been here,” the other man said.
As I showed them where to go, a group of local delinquents walked through the park towards us. I tried hard not to make eye contact, but as soon as the three of us walked past them…
“Hey! Old Man!” one of the delinquents shouted behind us.
I looked back at the group, the second old man, who still had some red coloring in his hair, was bowing to the delinquent who was yelling. At first, it seemed harmless, but as soon as I heard the delinquent’s voice becoming louder and more intense. The argument, over something insignificant, started to become violent. I couldn’t stand it; the delinquent actually pushed the old man over.
“Stop it!” I screamed and threw half of my produce at him and his friends. When they realized what hit them all, I already had grabbed a big-ish stick and was posed to fight them back if I had too. “You stay away from us! Or so help, me I’ll…”
“Or what? You’ll whack your little stick over our hands and call us ‘bad boys’? Huh,” one of the delinquent and his friends laughed at me.
Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye; an opportunity to get some help and I took it. I screamed and screamed as loud as I could, soon the delinquents look over at a nearby path and saw a figure then took off running. When they were gone, I stopped and cleared my throat.
“What was that,” the bald man asked.
“Why were you screaming? Those boys never laid a finger on you,” the red-haired man pointed out.
I shrugged and pointed to the figure on the other path, “I saw the drunk, and made them think that I was screaming for a cop’s attention.”
The old men laughed, as did I, the rest of the way to the shrine. Their laugh was contagious, even when I wanted to stop, hearing them made me laugh even more. Then we reached the shrine, it looked nicer than I thought it was going to be; I mean, I thought it was going to be an old rundown place, but this took me by surprise.
“Thank you, for all that you’ve done for the two of us,” the little red-haired man said, as the two of them bowed to me.
As I bowed back to them, I noticed petals whisked by their feet, and when I looked up; they were gone. It was strange, it seemed so familiar, but I don’t know why… Was it because of the past? I didn’t bother looking for them and rushed home with whatever produced I had left in my bags.
Such a kind girl. Do you think, that, perhaps…?
Indeed. However, we should consider how we shall repay her.
It took me longer than expected to get home, but I knew it had to have been worth it to help those two men. Yet, for some reason, I felt like the entire time I was going home, I was being watched, but I chalked it up to my imagination and fatigue. I didn’t have the time to worry about it anyway; I had to get home before my grandparents begin to worry. I also still had to cook everyone’s dinner and prep for tomorrow’s breakfast; plus my chores and school work.
When I finally walked through the courtyard of my home, I went straight to the kitchen and began to cook. It took me about a half an hour to make a “presentable” meal for the guest, and another hour to make the employees their meals. Then I went into the main house, which is where I live with my grandparents and started dinner for the three of us. My grandparents’ house was an old two-story building with an Edo era look to it; the inn is attached to the main house by a sealed outdoor hallway for easy access by us to help the customers more quickly. During dinner, I told them about the old men and the delinquents, and the strange feeling I had on the way home.
“Oh my, sounds like you had an eventful afternoon,” my grandmother cooed. She’s the kindest old woman I’d ever known; she never likes to talk about how old she’s getting, she just says that the path she’s been walking down is getting smoother than when she started.
“Humph, if you ask me you should’ve just not have gotten involved,” my grandfather grumbled. He talks and acts like a double-edged sword, but he’s really a caring guy, he just…has a funny way a showing it.
Soon the two of them were “bickering” over whether or not I should have helped those men; I merely giggled and smiled. I looked out the small window behind me, I couldn’t shake that feeling from before, and I didn’t tell them about my dream. The last thing I need is for them to think something is wrong with me, especially the day before our annual trip to visit my parents’ grave. The fear that they may cancel the trip frightens me more than the feeling of being watched. After dinner, I started on my chores; prepping for tomorrow’s meals for the guests and our picnic lunch for our trip, doing the meal’s dishes, and cleaning up the inn as much as possible for the evening. After which, I headed up to my room to do my school work, since I won’t be going in tomorrow I want to get all of it done so I don’t have to do it after the trip.
My room is pretty basic, I mean I didn’t really need much when I moved in with my grandparents and I haven’t really asked for anything expensive to put in it. There is a twin-sized bed with cream and tan covers, a desk with a simple lamp and writing items stacked on it, some bookshelves; both on the walls and normal shelves against the wall, all filled with books, a window with a white sheer curtain with embroidered cherry blossoms on it, an area rug over wooden flooring, a small dresser, and a little closet. Aside from the curtains and books, I did add some personal touches from when I lived with my parents; on a shelf above my bed I have a photo of the three of us from when I was a baby, a cat alarm clock that was a birthday gift, and there is also some souvenirs from my parent’s trips for inn management: a china doll from Beijing, a wooden statue of an elephant from Africa, a postcard of Parliament from England, and a chocolate brown teddy bear with a tan vest and a bowtie matching its fur from America. It was emptier than most high school girls’ room, but it’s what’s comfortable for me and for my grandparents. Plus, I’d feel worse about myself if I asked for more than I need, I mean my grandparents did take me in.
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