HOPE

2. Back on my feet.

.
I woke up the next morning, it seems I've been out around the clock.
I'm alone in my room, sprawled in the middle of the mess I left, a solid headache knocking at my eyelids.

Mikomi, my rock, my lifeline left me. I deserved it. I hurt her. I frightened her.

The door unexpectedly opens on Sensei, Mikomi's father and the leader of the village. His face is closed as fuck and he barks orders at me, which I don't understand. He's not Mikomi, her voice is always clear and soft, her Japanese simple and slowly uttered.

I do my best to quickly sit up, join my hands together and bow my head in respect.
He looks clearly pissed off, I assume by my  tantrum and I can't have him mad at me or he would chop me in pieces with his katana.

Mikomi appears, padding in smoothly like she floats above the floor.
She kneels down before me, her gaze at my feet, where she places a pile of clothes and a bowl of water.
Before I can speak she disappears again, to be back instantly with what I assume be shaving items and a mirror.

I quickly grab her wrist and whisper her name but she keeps her eyes away from me.

"I owe you an apologize for what happened. I.. I don't know, I'm still confused. I... Just lost my mind. I'm sorry."

She gently pushes my hand back and says under her breath
"I can't talk to you now. Please clean up and shave. I'm sorry I can't help you."

The door slides shut, leaving me all by myself again.

I grab the mirror and study my reflection. Jesus I'm a waste, Sensei said something about a pig, yeah that's me.

My hair has grown monstrous, no trace left of the clean military cut. Wild, disheveled curls twist on my scalp, traces of vomit coat my beard.
I stink, like sweat and urine, I must have pissed myself while passing out.

The Japanese value cleanness as a mark of respect to the others and to yourself.
I look more like a homeless, sick bear than a human, without Mikomi to care for me.
I'm not Cup anymore. Gaijin fits better, I'm a stranger to my own self.

I take off the wasted hakama , those large black Japanese pants and start to clean myself up, taking stock of my body for the first time in months.

My leg looks great, light red and swollen at the foot -thanks to my little stunt I guess- , the scars are clean and neat, Mikomi has done an excellent work.
As usual.

The skin of my chest look nice as well, I realize it doesn't hurt anymore.
I wash my body, face and hair, shave and cut them the best I can by myself, then clean the pants in the bowl.
I gather the cut hair, clean up what's left from my mess on the floor, tied the bamboo splinter back on my leg, tied up the new kimono and find a somewhat comfortable seated position and just wait.

I wait for what seems hours. Time for me to gather my thoughts and my strength, put myself together and stop being such a whiny bitch.

Holy shit, how lame of a soldier I've been, weak and crying like a baby, Angie would have laughed at me and kicked my ass.

"Stop braiding daisies, Softie. I'm waiting for you!"

Fuck you're right honey.
Let's go, let's do this. Let's be a man again, let's fight for what I lost.
From now on, I promise I'll fight to have you back, Angie, you and our baby.
I've cleaned my mess. I'm ready.

As if he's heard me loud and clear, Sensei enters the room, checks me out from head to toes,  then nods, satisfied.

"Yoi. Keiko. Ashita."