Sorry, this is late. My dog is dramatic and ended up in the hospital. She's fine now, although this occurring in the middle of discussions with publishers and agents was not good for my already elevated stress levels.
Give me comments and read Blue's Shadow I beggith.
Kaido
Nine years ago
I haven't been sent outside in 893 days. I haven't seen Toya since then either.
I'm not sure where he ended up. What's nice is I'm not sure I care. He hasn't phoned Tenko in over two years. Since then, I've almost forgotten about him entirely.
Instead, my days begin with waking in a bed rather than under a window. I'm allowed to shower and take care of myself and look in a mirror. I walk downstairs and rather than be greeted by angered footsteps and curtains to hide the sun, I'm greeted with the smell of food on the stove and the humming of someone who tells me to set the table and asks about my dreams.
Now, I sit in the living room reading through a book about calculus. Tenko can't do any of the problems. He's not very good at math, but I like solving them. I like the little hints of pride that outshine past shame when I'm able to understand something. With my temple against my fist in the armchair, I watch as Tenko sits with Aisuru.
Tenko named her that because she's his only daughter and because all she knows how to do is to love. Aisuru can't hear. Tenko isn't sure why. It isn't a defect his quirk can fix. He taught himself sign language or rather I helped him learn it since he can't read all that well. Now, he teaches Suru too. They sit on the living room floor going over different phrases together.
We don't know how old she is, not unlike me, we're merely guessing. Tenko thinks she's about two to three years younger than I am. She's tinier than she should be, but she's smart. She smiles a lot, more than her brothers who still stay in their room upstairs.
I can't exactly blame them.
207 days ago, Tenko and I were walking home from the market on a Sunday night. He walked me through the street in a little red wagon with other fruits and vegetables. I was looking up, telling the names of constellations I'd been memorizing from the books he brought home for me. I liked to learn. I still do. I like the balance between learning and fantasizing. Tenko says I have the imagination of a child and the mind of a scholar. I'm not sure what that means. All I know is he smiles when I smile and he is my dad now.
That was the night I realized it. That was also the night we found three rummaging skeletons of children hiding in a dumpster. The one with orange streaks in his hair and slitted pupils lashed out, baring fangs at us. Another with bright yellow eyes stared Tenko down menacingly, holding a little girl in his arms with curly hair and a bleeding mouth.
Anyone else would've seen them as feral. Primal animals without language or sense. But I saw them, oddly enough, as what I would've ended up as without the man pulling me in the little wagon.
Taking them home was a feat of strength.
Tenko had to lure them with food and water. The boy with fangs had broken bones all over, legs, arms, even his hand were shattered as if with a hammer. The boy with bright eyes carried him on his back while Aisuru clung to his side.
Once Tenko got them in the house, they became like foxes stuck in a hunter trap, bouncing off the walls, whimpering, shoving themselves into corners, scratching at the windowsills. If either Tenko or I came near them, they began panicking.
Eventually, they began associating us with survival. But after 207 days, there is still a level of fear instilled in them to the core. Whoever branded those numbers onto them– these kids were not people in their eyes.
