Kawaii Kaji
05-22-08, 04:18 AM
Mother had fallen very ill. The whispers had come a full day before one of the teachers in the orphanage had told all of the children that Mother wasn't to be disturbed while she rested. Among them, a slew of stories were already concocted to explain away how the seemingly indestructible woman could actually be sick. Not a single one of them had ever seen her so much as sneeze their entire lives.
As Suzumi bent on hands and knees, scrubbing the floor in the dining hall, her mind was already mourning. Doctors had been in and out, shaking their heads as they closed up black leather bags each and every time they left. There had been a few times already in the morning when her tears had slide off her nose and fallen into the soap bubbles. When grief overtook her again and she sat back, her fits furiously rubbing at her leaking eyes, a hand closed on her shoulder. Looking up, her red eyes met the gaze of one of the teachers.
"Why are you so sad, Suzumi?" the instructor gently asked, leaning down as she offered the child a handkerchief.
"I don't want Mother to leave us." Suzumi managed to say in a shaking breath before burying her face one more into the soft cotton of the 'kerchief.
"Now now," the gentle voice said. "Mother will be fine. The last doctor found the problem, and has prescribed a remedy."
Her eyes wide, a smile delicately balanced on her trembling lips, Suzumi sat straight up, gasping. Her instructor went on.
"In fact, none of the instructors can travel to pick it up. We have to stay with the little ones, but you are the oldest one here. You are going to go get it for mother; would you like that?"
"Oh yes!" Suzumi cried, hugging her instructor tightly before she went back to her work, far more cheerful now.
_____________________________
It had been a short trip to a small town nestled in the foothills where the mountains turned to plains, and Suzumi thought that she would be back in the orphanage in no time with the medicine in hand. But now she sat forlorn in the parlor of a man with glasses too big for his face, hearing the bad news. The roots of the Blue Drop flower had all gone bad. A leak in the roof had let in water from the last rains, soaking into the dried roots without the apothecary's knowledge. Now she looked at a pile of mold, and her heart sank. The tears were almost coming again when the chemist took her by the hand and led her out gently.
"You could always go up onto the mountain and harvest them yourself," he suggested as she left. She would do just that.
As Suzumi bent on hands and knees, scrubbing the floor in the dining hall, her mind was already mourning. Doctors had been in and out, shaking their heads as they closed up black leather bags each and every time they left. There had been a few times already in the morning when her tears had slide off her nose and fallen into the soap bubbles. When grief overtook her again and she sat back, her fits furiously rubbing at her leaking eyes, a hand closed on her shoulder. Looking up, her red eyes met the gaze of one of the teachers.
"Why are you so sad, Suzumi?" the instructor gently asked, leaning down as she offered the child a handkerchief.
"I don't want Mother to leave us." Suzumi managed to say in a shaking breath before burying her face one more into the soft cotton of the 'kerchief.
"Now now," the gentle voice said. "Mother will be fine. The last doctor found the problem, and has prescribed a remedy."
Her eyes wide, a smile delicately balanced on her trembling lips, Suzumi sat straight up, gasping. Her instructor went on.
"In fact, none of the instructors can travel to pick it up. We have to stay with the little ones, but you are the oldest one here. You are going to go get it for mother; would you like that?"
"Oh yes!" Suzumi cried, hugging her instructor tightly before she went back to her work, far more cheerful now.
_____________________________
It had been a short trip to a small town nestled in the foothills where the mountains turned to plains, and Suzumi thought that she would be back in the orphanage in no time with the medicine in hand. But now she sat forlorn in the parlor of a man with glasses too big for his face, hearing the bad news. The roots of the Blue Drop flower had all gone bad. A leak in the roof had let in water from the last rains, soaking into the dried roots without the apothecary's knowledge. Now she looked at a pile of mold, and her heart sank. The tears were almost coming again when the chemist took her by the hand and led her out gently.
"You could always go up onto the mountain and harvest them yourself," he suggested as she left. She would do just that.