Destined

The Past

•Ko•

I was nearly 16 then, and I finally convinced my mother to let me try figure skating.

My family wasn't very well off. We could barely afford schoolbooks for my brother and I. It often resulted in me begging my upperclassmen for used textbooks. My brother was one grade below me, and he could have my books after I used them.

My mother works as a tailor, she mends clothes and shoes for neighbours and other people. My father works as chemist. He works in the local pharmaceutical plant, making life-saving drugs for people.

For months, I had wanted to try figure skating. They looked so graceful, so captivated in music.

Mother and father saved up, and I could finally buy my own skates and go for my first skating lesson at the local Sendai rink.

My brother and I walked to the rink after school, the small brown envelope buried in my backpack. That brown envelope contained the hard work of our parents. I smiled as I saw the small brown fox dangling from Kouji's bag; I saved up for a month for the fox as his birthday present. But just as we entered the rink, we felt the tell tale vibrations of an earthquake.

Earthquakes are common in Japan, and although we knew the feeling of an impending earthquake very well, we were always shocked by the rumbling of the earth.

"Kouji! Follow me!" I shouted to my brother. He started to whimper a little, and tugged on my sleeve.

The figure skaters on the ice were scrambling to get off as well, and I could hear scared mumbling from a boy about my age. He was holding on to an older boy.

I didn't see the rest, as I pulled Kouji to along with me, looking for the nearest evacuation center.

Amidst all the chaos, I remembered only my brother's shouts and cries and my own tears.

How were we going to find our parents?

What would happen to us?

Why us?

Why me?

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Darkness.

Just darkness.

As I tried to sit up, bleary eyed, my head hurt. But I was in a clean hall, and I could hear the chattering of many people. Occasional sniffs and crying sounds, but they were human noises.

I could see many people seated in clusters, crying and hugging their knees.

I see. We made it to the evacuation center.

A small girl with pigtails tells me in rapid Japanese that I collapsed when I arrived, and I probably got hit on the head by some debris. But I was fine, I was alive.

Then it hit me.

"Where is my brother?" I frantically asked, clutching the girl tightly.

"KOUJI! KOUJI, WHERE ARE YOU?" I struggled, trying to shove my way through clusters of people in a desperate bid to find my baby brother.

I was on the verge of breaking down, but I heard his voice. Frantically approaching the direction from which his voice resonated, I finally saw him sitting against a wall as a young man bandaged his head with a strip of cloth.

"I'm so glad you're alright," I breathed into his messy hair as I gave him a warm crushing hug, expressing my love for him. I could never imagine life without Kouji.

There were many distraught people who were slowly losing hope of making it out of the evacuation center; we could hear people crying, resentful for not having the chance to live the life they wanted to live.

In the corner of the hall stood an old grand piano, since the evacuation center once used to be a school.

Day 2

Kouji said he felt better, and wanted to help raise the hopes of the survivors. He had a strong liking for piano and music since young, and he often practiced on our grandmother's old piano at home.

I felt this sense of pride as he played out cheerful folk songs, encouraging survivors to clap along. The boy with the mushroom hair without shoes also clapped along with his family.

Day 3

"Kouji? Wake up, the others are rationing food for breakfast. Help will arrive soon, don't you worry!" I shook him, smiling. He had overworked himself, playing through most of yesterday, just to spread hope amongst the people.

"Koharu? I'm feeling a little sleepy, please let me sleep," he mumbled.

I chuckled, as he turned around in his sleeping bag, mumbling about feeling tired.

Little did I know that his "tiredness" was more than a simple lack of sleep.

When he tried to play for the evacuees in the afternoon, he couldn't play his pieces well, like his right hand was fumbling a lot, and everybody brushed it off, saying that the poor boy probably didn't sleep well.

We brushed that off too.

So when he collapsed mid song in the evening, we were all shocked.

Is he alright?

Did he overwork himself?

I knew it, we're never gonna survive this earthquake. Even the small boy is down.

Kouji never woke up again.

On the fourth day, when emergency personnel finally reached us through the rubble and debris, Kouji had stopped breathing.

I was in a wreck. I screamed and cried and shrieked when his chest stopped rising, but I couldn't do anything to help him.

I wish I could have done more.

According to the autopsy, he probably got hit pretty hard by some falling rubble when we were escaping, resulting in a slow brain hemorrhage. That's why he felt increasingly tired and dizzy, and he kept fumbling on the piano.

What a useless sister I am. Can't even protect your own little brother.

I'll never forget the song he was trying to play when he collapsed.

Kumru Ballad by Fazil Say.

It's going to be a little confusing but I swear I will clear it up.