"Toru!"

A warm and gentle hand presses against my shoulder, rocking my body. Her voice runs smooth into my ears in a low but urgent half-whisper. A groan escapes my mouth. I try to brush her hand away with a sloppy tug of the blankets. The shaking still continues. My body wriggles and rolls over to the opposite side in hopes that the shaking will stop. It doesn't. The pressure gradually increases.

"Toru! Toru, wake up!"

Two hands now. One on my shoulder and the other on my waist. I can feel her warmth through my thin, scratchy blanket. She's using two hands to shake me up.

"W-what time is it?" My voice is thick with bleariness and I can barely crack my eyes open because of all the boogers sealing my eye shut. I furiously rub my eyes to get rid of them.

She rolls me over on my back like she would a tawara- a bale of rice so she can see my face. "You're saying your name in your sleep again," She whispers to me, keeping her voice as low as she could without waking the rest of our family up. Her long cosmos-pink hair tickles the sides of my face as she crouches down, craning her neck so that she can take a closer look. So she can see if I was crying. Her green eyes reflecting the soft flame of the kerosene lamp by my head, brushing the sticky parts of my fringe away from my face with her cool fingers, "Did you have a nightmare?"

I brush the remains of the boogers from my eyes, I can open them fully now. But do I want to? No. "My name?" I say, probably looking like I've aged a couple of years as I slowly sit up, being careful not to knock the lamp over. Kerosene is very expensive and we only earn enough to afford one small bottle a month.

"Yeah," I frown, but not because I did indeed have a nightmare. I just hate sleeping on that part of the tatami where it just sinks in weird places and I have to squirm, wriggle and move just to get into a nice, comfortable position I can sleep in, "A nightmare. A bad one." The same nightmare that I've been having my entire life (three and a half years and counting).

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I rub the parts of my back that I can reach (not much) to relieve myself of the dull ache that's slowly growing. I want Mother to replace the old, rickety tatami mats with new ones but we can't. The wallpaper too, there's some holes near the engawa that we can't patch up with repairing paper and it gets really cold at night. Maybe next year, she said, if harvest is good. I don't think it will happen though, we need the money for so many other things.

I can sleep on them for a while longer.

She pats the top of my head in a nice way. The way she always does when I have a bad dream. She giggles softly once she sees the grumpy expression on my face, "That's why kaa-san named you Toru, you know?" Yes, I know. I've heard this story before from Mother and from Kaika herself. I was barely six months old when I started crying 'Towu, Towu' in my gurgly baby voice. Kaika said that I was this close being named Tofu.

I blink my eyes a couple of times to get rid of the sleepiness. It's still dark out and it doesn't look like it's anywhere near morning. The chickens aren't making any sounds either. "What are you doing up, Kaika-nee?" I say, looking up at her with wide® eyes.

Kaika picks up the lamp and walks towards the table. An almost finished garment lies over the surface. It's a very nice shade of green, like the colour of barley leaves. "I'm just finishing up the work that Hasumi-san gave me today," She says, "There's always so much to do! But she treats me nicely, so I can't complain much." She picks up the needle and continues sewing the seams of the sleeves, "And she gives me extra pay for extra work."

Kaika is my sister if you didn't already know. She's an apprentice tailor, which means she'll one day take over Hasumi-san's workshop and make a lot more than she does right now. Maybe then we'll be able to replace the tatami! She also turns eight this year.

"And the shuriken kimono?" I say looking at her with round eyes, "You remember our promise right?"

"Of course I remember, with this done I'll have enough to get the fabric that you want." Her fingers don't stop as she responds. It can be quite hypnotic watching her work, the needle going in and out, weaving the thin thread in a neat line with even spaces between them (that's why she's Hasumi-san's best apprentice!), "I'll come to bed in a bit, I'm almost done."

"Shuriken kimono," I hum as I settle back into the futon and pulling up my blanket so it reaches my chin. I feel a little bit better after being woken up, "Shuriken kimono."

"Remember, you're going to turn four soon. Which means you have to help Hatsuga with the morning chores." She says, "Don't forget."

"I won't," I say, letting sleep take over me again, "I won't..."