Emerald Leaf

Lost Letter

Daniel had recently come to know that there was another changeling who had died long ago. He decided to visit her grave, as he wondered what had happened to the child left with the fairies.

He knelt before the child's grave, roses in hand.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around to see a woman and a boy–probably a mother and her son judging by the way they looked alike–staring at him. Daniel was human, so he was sure it would be fine. He nodded to them as they stepped up to the grave.

"Why are you at my daughter's grave?" The woman's voice held no suspicion, but simple curiosity.

Daniel stared at them, while pity crept upon him. They didn't know the girl wasn't their child–that she was a fairy instead. He wondered if he should let them believe that, but sometimes, a lie could hurt more than the truth. And especially if their daughter was alive, they deserved to know.

"To pay my respects."

"Did you know her?"

"No," he said, "But she was supposed to have remained with us. She was a fairy."

At this, the mother's eyes narrowed, and the boy's eyes widened.

The woman stepped back, as her son grabbed her hand. "What are you talking about?"

"Your daughter," he said, gesturing to the grave, "Was weak, wasn't she? She was a changeling, a fairy who was exchanged for a human child."

"Fairies don't even exist."

Daniel noticed the boy shaking his head, as surprise, realization and suspicion chased each other on his face. He knew about the existence of fairies; how he knew that, Daniel didn't know.

Daniel stepped away from the grave. "Say that to all the families who have lost their kids over the last few weeks." He turned to glance at them, and seeing the woman's confusion, continued, "If you really want proof, scour your house. Chances are, the changeling would've left something behind, perhaps a letter." Daniel decided he would lose nothing giving them a little more information. "And this might seem out of place, but you look quite similar to a human I saw under the hills."

With that, Daniel walked away.

Hikari and Haru did as he said, making a mental checklist of all the things Akina had with her in the hospital. Hikari looked through Akina's books, flipping through the pages, as if they were hiding secrets. Haru chanced upon the photograph he had shown Aki. Opening the frame, a piece of paper drifted to the floor, as Hikari walked over. A familiar childish scrawl was decorating the page.

Dear mom, dad, and brother,

I heard the trees speaking to me, and they told me I could hear them because I was a fairy. This isn't a joke, nor one of the little dramas that Haru and I used to play.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you the moment I knew, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was never truly your daughter, nor Haru's sister, but that was the way I thought of you. I don't know what happened to your daughter but I hope you find her.

I'm sorry I deceived you.

Yours with love,
Akina

Hikari's hands were trembling as she read the letter. Haru placed a hand over hers, with both determination and sadness in his eyes.

"This changes nothing. Akina was still our family."

"But the other child, what happened to her?" A memory flashed through Hikari, of Sumire telling her she had met someone who looked so much like Akina. Sumire had told her that the girl had ran away, but never said where she had run away from.