(There's a core element to Yoko, a small, but vibrant fragment of her being. Think of this; underneath all of sternness, love, and protective attitudes, there has always been a smaller Yoko, a little girl, so to speak, who has been crying for all of these years. You must know, Yoko had always been a loner and a loser in her life.)

Realizing the woman on the other end was her mother, Yoko was yanked out of the present and sent back to her childhood. It was the memory of when she was just twelve years old, on the day before her thirteenth birthday. On the night before school the young Yoko spent the evening making hand-made birthday cards to pass around at school.

She figured people would appreciate something that was handmade, unique for every person. She had the glue, scissors, and other tools out as she completed the very last birthday card. When all was done, she leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms with a loud yawn. All of her cards, the product of her hard work, were laid out on the white, wooden desk before her, the amber light of her lamp glowing against the side of her face.

"All done!" Yoko sighed.

She was startled by the abrupt sound of her parents' door slamming open. The furious shouts of her mother and father echoed down the hall and bled through her walls, filling the air in her room like water flooding through a ship's hull. Once she realized it was yet another argument, Yoko slumped her shoulders and gathered her birthday cards, tapping the pile against the desk to straighten them out. The arguments were a normal occurrence at her household, to the point where it was guaranteed to happen every other day.

"Really?! Great man you are, walking out every time you lose an argument!" her mother shouted.

"I'm done here. No one should have to put up with you when you're like this." her father growled. "Not me, not your friends, and not our daughter."

"So you're leaving her too? You know what, just go. I don't need you, and Yoko sure as hell doesn't need you either!"

"You need help, Manami. You have got to stop drinking like this. You have to get over what happened to Lucrezia! Look what's become of us..."

"Get out. Maybe you can get one of those broads from work to let you sleep on their couch."

Yoko's father left the house with only his clothes, wallet, and phone. Manami was much like Yoko in looks. Yoko got her red hair from her, as well as her oceanic, sapphire eyes. However, Manami had no shine in her face, no fire in her soul. It was washed away by the one thing that blemished an otherwise beautiful and loving woman. Manami was an alcoholic, one who often shut herself away from her family to drink in peace. She slammed her door shut, continuing to drink her demons away.

Yoko snapped out of her trip to the past, pulled back by the sound of her mother's voice on the phone. Izanami dried her hair with her bath towel as a very light drizzle began to form outside, gently tapping against the bedroom window.

"Are you still there?" Manami asked.

Yoko swallowed the lump in her throat. "....How....how did you get this number?"

"Your father gave it to me. You know, before he passed. Still a daddy's girl after all these years, huh? I guess you haven't changed."

"I wouldn't know about that. Why are you calling me?"

Manami sighed over the phone. "I'm back in Kyoto tomorrow. I'll be taking the train there."

"Are you moving here or something?"

"No. I just..."

"You just?"

"I need to see my daughter again. That's all. I know we didn't have a very good relationship, and I'm not trying to be your mother again. But, as just two people, I want to amend some mistakes I made."

Yoko's heart was gripped by an odd sensation. It was a mix of anger, happiness, and sadness. She wanted to scream, cry, and laugh at the same time. "I see. This...this is a very surprising call."

"I'll be coming in tomorrow at 4 PM, at Kyoto Station. If you're not there, I suppose I'll just enjoy my time in Kyoto. But, truly, I'd like to see you again. We haven't seen each other since you were seventeen. So, is that okay with you?"

"...Yeah...that's fine...I suppose I can at least show you around. A lot of places have changed since you left Kyoto, so you might be confused when you get here again."

"Oh really? Thanks for the heads up. Your help would be much appreciated!"

"So, tomorrow, 4 P.M., Kyoto Station?"

"Yeah, that's it. Maybe we can get some food while we're out and catch up."

"Yeah, sounds good..."

"All right. Well, I've got to go right now. It...it was good hearing your voice, Yoko."

"Yeah...take it easy, Manami. Bye."

"Bye."

Yoko hung up the phone and stood motionless with her back to Izanami. She was absolutely petrified. It was just seconds ago she had hung up, yet she still couldn't believe the conversation she had was real.

"Yoko, who was that? That was a long talk, wasn't it?" Izanami questioned.

Tsukiakari: Yeah, was it someone you know?

"It was my mother."

"Your mom?!" Izanami recoiled.

"Yeah, I'm just as shocked and confused as you are. She wants to meet me tomorrow at the train station. She's returning to Kyoto."

"What are you going to do? This is so sudden!"

"I may as well go see her. That's what I'll do."

Meanwhile, Osamu, Rousoku, and Shinju continued on their way to the abandoned book store. The spring winds were strong that day, allowing Rousoku to see Shinju's hair dance and sway around like the flame of a candle. Shinju turned towards Rousoku and smiled as her bright, orange hair wildly waved around as the wind howled around them.

"Ah, I caught you staring at me, Rousoku. Am I that beautiful?" Shinju asked.

Caught red-handed, Rousoku averted her gaze. "W-well...I mean..."

Shinju spun around on the very tip of her foot like a ballerina. "Ah, I see. You're feeling a little intimidated, aren't you? Osamu here is surrounded by loads of beautiful women that are all very, very familiar with him, and that makes you feel uneasy. Well? Am I right? Don't try lying either, hon. Lying is a sin, you know."

"Come on, Shinju. You're scaring her." Osamu said.

(Perhaps I should've thought about that. Shinju is quite good at reading people. Someone like Rousoku, who telegraphs their emotions too easily, would be a big target for Shinju.)

Shinju laughed. "Sorry about that, Rousoku. I hope I'm not pressuring you."

"N-no, it's fine. To answer your question, you are really beautiful, Ms. Miyakawa."

"Oh! Really? Thanks! I appreciate it! The author seems to think so too!"

"This is no time for meta commentary!" Osamu scolded.

"Of course it is! You know, it hasn't been established yet, but my original character sheet said that I'm by the far the most gorgeous girl in the entire series! Prettier than Yoko, Isabella, Izanami, Aika, Rei, Omagatoki, Akatsuki, Kagutsuchi, Amatsuki, Tsukiakari, and Rousoku!"

"The author doomed us to cosmetic inferiority from the very beginning?!" Rousoku recoiled.

"That's too cruel to be true!" Osamu cried.

Shinju closed her eyes, blushing and squirming as she imagined herself sitting on a throne with all of the other girls at her feet, worshiping her as the most beautiful woman to ever grace the planet. "Death by Ex-Girlfriend should just be about me! Even though I'm not Osamu's ex-girlfriend and never ever plan to be!"

"Shinju! Shinju, get a hold of yourself! You're being greedy and prideful! Those are both sins! You're destroying your own character dynamics!" Osamu said.

"Come on, Osa! I'm sill human!" Shinju groaned.

In reality, Shinju was trying to ease up the mood for Rousoku, and it worked. She snickered as she watched Osamu shake Shinju by her shoulders, and she felt much more comfortable around them both. With the tension between them eased somewhat, Osamu and the girls continued on their way.

After an hour of walking, the three made it to the abandoned book store. As soon as they opened the glass door, a murder of crows flew out of the building and scattered into the sapphire sky above their heads. Shinju was the only one who didn't seem to flinch as they flew past them.

"You okay, Rousoku?" Osamu asked.

Rousoku held her hand over her heart and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm okay."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The three entered the bookstore, Rousosku nervously so. She bumped into a stack of books by the entrance, knocking them over and scrambling to put them back in place. "Oh no!"

"Don't worry about the books, young lady." Cyanide projected from further inside the store.

Cyanide stood inside of the ghostly glow of a sunbeam shining through one of the holes in the dilapidated ceiling, lighting himself a fresh cigarette. Rousoku laid eyes on the messy-haired man before her, his black suit and tie stained with dust and cigarette ash. She was half-convinced he was a squatter just from the sight of him.

"Uhh...what are you doing, exactly?" Osamu asked, his gaze falling to the sunflower, candle, and crow's feather at Cyanide's feet.

Cyanide smiled. "Fortune telling, of course. I have the crows scatter about Kyoto and bring back objects. Those objects are what determine the fortune for today. It seems they've brought back a candle and a sunflower."

"It seems your crows are right on the money, Cyanide.” Shinju said.

"No way...did they really bring those back?!" Rousoku gasped.

Cyanide stood up and exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. "Ah, so your last name is Himawari, huh? That explains the sunflower." Looks like you were supposed to come to me today. So then, what can I do for you brats?"

"Rousoku has a problem. I think it may be a supernatural phenomenon." Osamu began.

One very long explanation later.

"Ah, I see. So, you've experienced a very odd pattern of memory loss?" Cyanide asked. "The last thing you remember is laying down in bed in Kyushu, huh?"

Rousoku nodded. "Yes sir. I'm not really sure how I ended up here. I checked my pockets for a plane ticket, to see if maybe I had traveled and not noticed, but I had nothing on me, not even my I.D.."

Cyanide stroked his goatee between his thumb and index finger. "Odd. Well, there are several volumes here written by Sekien Toriyama on the subject of paranormal memory loss. I could look through them and see which condition you seem to fall under. However, I'll have to ask that you stay here until I find the answer. I may need to run some tests on you."

"Tests?" Osamu asked.

"Don't worry, nothing surgical or anything. They won't hurt at all." Cyanide clarified.

"I..I don't know about staying here..." Rousoku stammered.

"Don't worry, Rousoku! We'll stay here with you! Is that any better for you?" Shinju asked.

Rousoku smiled and blushed. "I suppose that's fine then."

Cyanide clapped his hands together, symbolizing the beginning of the mission. "Excellent. Shinju, help me sort through these books, will you? Osamu, you can help too, kid."

"Stop calling me kid! We're not that far apart in age!"

Rousoku tented her fingers over her mouth, just barely hiding her amused giggle. Though that specific exchange had become an annoying routine for Osamu, he was happy to see that his banter with Cyanide brought Rousoku even a little more joy and comfort during such an uncertain time for her. That alone made him feel better about her staying in the book store with them.

As Osamu sifter through mountains of books with Shinju and Cyanide, hours slipping by between the dusty, delicate pages, he thought back to the brief time he knew Rousoku seven years ago.

(What was it? Seven years ago I left Kyoto? When that first happened, one of the first places I went was Kyushu.)

Osamu thought back to the moment he first met Rousoku, digging up the memory like a corpse from its grave. After his disappearing act in Kyoto, Osamu had traveled to the town of Tara in Saga Prefecture. Tara was a seaside town that was quieter than a library. It was a town so out of the way and uninteresting that no one would've ever thought to look for Osamu there. That was the point. He didn't want to be found.

His suicide attempt in Kyoto was thwarted by Izanami. She saved his life, and from that point onward, the two of them shared an honest and intimate friendship. Night after night, Osamu returned to Izanami's shrine so she could heal his wounded heart. Perhaps it wasn't Izanami's intent, but their nightly conversations lit a scorching fire of curiosity in Osamu.

He wanted to get outside of himself, to see with his own eyes that the world was a beautiful place. Though neither Izanami nor Osamu said it aloud, they both knew one could not rely on the other to find purpose in life. Izanami may have saved his life, but only Osamu could save his own soul. For some reason, following his soul's whims brought him to Tara

That day, Osamu stood in the baking aisle of his local grocery store, facing a wall of flour brands he didn't recognize. The store was a local chain, so it only stocked local products, for the most part. It was that moment that Osamu was starting to regret his self-imposed exile to Tara. Even something as simple as not having a recognizable brand of unbleached flour made him feel like a sardine among lion fish or a black sheep among white.

But then he spotted a girl in a flowing, floral dress, long, dark tendrils of raven hair stretching from her head and curling at the ends like ripped corners of space. She stood on her tippy toes with the tip of her tongue protruding from her rosy lips. It looked like she was exerting a herculean amount of strength to keep from falling as she reached towards a bag of flour just out of her reach on a higher shelf.

That was the first time he saw Rousoku.

(She's a little too short to get that bag of flour...)

"Come on...just a little more..." Rousoku murmured.

Rousoku was able to tip the bag of flower over with the tips of her fingers. Her eyes lit up with joy until the bag of flour came falling right onto her face. Staggered, she fell on her butt with bloody nose and stars running circles above her head.. Osamu rushed over to her, stifling a laugh as he offered to help.

"Hey, ma'am! Are you okay?"

Rousoku held her nose, taking Osamu's hand. "Y-yeah, thanks. I'm sorry for the trouble..."

Rousoku met eyes with Osamu and was instantly enamored by his sharp looks, but extremely embarrassed by her own unsightly appearance. "Ah! Uhm...thank you for your help, mister..."

"It's Osamu. Osamu Ashikaga."

"Hah, like the shogunate!" Rousoku beamed.

"Yeah...everyone says that..."

(Though, I really am related to the shogunate...)

Osamu handed Rousoku a tissue, which she gladly took to wipe her nose. He picked up the bag of flour she dropped and plopped it in her basket.

"There you go! You've got your flour now! Anything else you need?"

"N-n-no! Thank you very much!" Rousoku sang.

"Uh, you sure? Your basket actually looks kind of full. Want me to help you carry it all out?"

"Oh gosh, you're so kind! You don't have to!"

"No, please. I'd love to help!"

(That was the first time we met. Just a chance meeting in a grocery store over a bag of flour. Such an innocent beginning to something that ended so terribly...)

Hours passed by in a flash as Osamu and the others researched as much as they could about Rousoku's condition. So far, their search yielded nothing. Rousoku had gone to sleep on top of the backboard of a fallen bookcase, and Osamu was only half awake.

His head leaned forward as he closed his eyes momentarily, before he snapped back awake and fixed his posture. Taeko approached the desk where Osamu and Cyanide were working, laying a gentle hand on Osamu's shoulders as she set down a steaming cup of coffee next to him.

"Thanks, Taeko." Osamu said.

"No problem. It's going to be long night." Taeko sighed.

Osamu rubbed his eyes and almost two dozen cigarette butts protruding from Cyanide's ashtray. He had gone through an entire pack of cigarettes in just the past few hours.

"Cyanide, you've got to stop smoking so much." Osamu said.

"Please, it helps me concentrate. Cigarettes are a man's best friend." Cyanide responded.

Lucrezia picked out a book from the pile on the table, knocking it against the back of Cyanide's head before sitting down next to Osamu. "Try saying that once your lungs turn black, genius."

"Hey...this Sekien Toriyama guy...was he an exorcist as well?" Osamu asked.

"Not necessarily." Taeko said. "He researched ghosts and demons for the exorcists, as well as curses and supernatural afflictions. His volumes are the most comprehensive index of supernatural phenomena we have."

"I see..." Osamu said.

"Osa, you should call home and tell them you're spending the night here. Don't want the girls to worry." Taeko said.

"Oh shit, you're right. I'll make the call now."

Osamu quietly walked past the sleeping Rousoku and went out to the front steps of the bookstore. The wind tugged a veil of clouds over the moon, its light creating a pale outline around them. Osamu whipped out as his phone and called Yoko, pinching the bridge of his nose to wake up himself up.

Yoko yawned as she spoke. "Hey."

"Hey. How are you doing?" Osamu asked.

"I'm okay, babe. Thank you for asking. Amatsuki made some really good soup, we all ate, and now we're getting ready for bed. Are you still at the bookstore with Rousoku?"

"Yeah, we're trying to find out what's wrong with her, but I don't think something like this has happened before. At least, it's not well documented in the books they have. There have been cases of people being possessed by spirits and having no memory of what happened during that time, but nothing that seems to match with Rousoku's problem."

"Who's to say she wasn't possessed? After all the crazy things we've been through, it doesn't seem like that far-fetched of an idea."

"Nah, Taeko said that no one would survive being possessed for over seven years, and that's how big her memory gap is. Even Taeko doesn't really know what to make of it. And just to be sure, we double checked that Rousoku didn't have any injuries. I'm starting to think that it's a medical issue after all. Maybe some sort of dementia or dissociative amnesia, something that isn't due to a physical injury. Though, it would be even weirder for someone her age to have either of those things."

"I'm sorry. It sounds like you're having a rough time over there."

"Yeah, but that's okay. We're working our butts off to figure it all out. Anyway, anything happen to you today?"

"Well, uhm...my mom called today."

"Huh? Manami did? How did she get our number?"

"Apparently, Dad gave it to her before he passed. I had always avoided her, so it kind of pisses me off that Dad went behind my back and gave her my number anyway."

"So that means Manami waited seven years to call you?"

"Most bad mothers don't have the courage to face their daughters. I'm sure it took her a while to muster up the courage to make that call. Anyway, we're meeting tomorrow. Though, I don't know I'll react when we see each other."

"Yeah, I understand. What made you say yes to seeing her again?"

"I almost said no, but for some reason, I thought of you. I thought, 'What would Osamu do if he had the chance to see his mom and dad again?'. I concluded that getting angry and saying no would just be selfish of me."

"Wow. That was mature of you!"

"Is that a surprise?! Am I not usually mature?!"

"Not what I said! It's just, it's a hard decision. I'm proud of you."

Yoko blushed and did a mini fist-bump in the air. "Yay! I made my husband proud! I hope you'll be successful, like all the other times."

"Do you think I will?"

"Of course. My husband is always successful."

Osamu smiled. "You really do believe in me."

"Of course I believe in you. You've made all my other dreams come true. Having a fun house, being a wife, and now a mother. It's all thanks to you."

"Yeah? How's the baby?"

Yoko rubbed her swollen tummy and smiled. "He's resting well. Ah, but we don't know if it's a 'He' yet, do we?"

"Nah, we'll have to find out soon. "

"No, I want to keep it a surprise."

"You sure?"

Yoko nodded. "Yeah!"

"All right, love. Hey, can you see the moon right now? It looks beautiful."

"I can't see it from the couch, but if I get up..."

Yoko got up from the couch and peered out of the kitchen window, spotting the full moon shining in the night sky. "I see it! You're right, it is beautiful."

"A lot like you."

"Osamu, stop, you're going to make me blush!"

"Sorry, I just felt like I had to say it. You're a beautiful woman, Yoko."

"Osamu."

"Yeah?"

Yoko snickered. "Close your eyes."

"Hmm? Why?"

"Just do it, dummy."

"All right, all right. They're closed. What now?"

"The tree branches outside are swaying, so I assume you can feel the wind, right?"

"Yeah, I'm outside the bookstore."

"Just listen to it for a minute. I want to listen to the same wind as you."

"All right. Let's listen."

The song of the wind was silent, yet loud, cold, yet warm. It howled and then whispered, screamed and then cried. It was unpredictable, changing directions and intensities on a whim. It was no different than life itself, or marriage, or parenthood. All of it was as unpredictable as the final howls of winter's cold gale. And yet, enduring it all with Yoko made all of the dread go away. Knowing she was there, even at a distance, was enough to make it all worth it.

"I love you, Osamu."

"I love you too, Yoko."

"I love you more."

"No way."

"Yes way!"

"Nuh uh."

"Yuh huh!"

"Gosh, you're so stubborn." Osamu laughed.

"I win again, love!"

"One of these days, I'll nab a victory!"

"Hah! Maybe a pity victory for your poor, poor heart."

"Yeah, whatever you say."

Yoko turned off the light in the kitchen, twirling a lock of her scarlet hair as she leaned against the fridge with the phone against her ear. "Good luck, Osa."

"Yeah, thanks. Good luck to you too. Let me know if you need anything."

"Same to you. If you need anything, just call home. We're all here waiting for you."

"Right. Well, goodnight, Yoko. And goodnight to the baby too."

"Goodnight dear. Kisses! Bye bye!"

"Bye bye."