Bouquets of Umbrellas

Introduction

If there were two forces out there that have the power to overwhelm any human being, they would probably be fear and love. We must stand firm and impenetrable to not give in to fear, however we must also be warm-hearted and forgiving to understand love.

I allowed fear to control a crucial part of my life as a child.

My sister and I were out in our father's rice fields playing around like the naive children we were.

My mother was a sickly but kind woman who would die later that year. My other older sister was a studious but reckless girl of 11. My father, a quiet man who was proud and diligent.

I was nothing more than a scrawny boy who liked catching fish and drawing. My younger sister was always near me, following me everywhere.

The memory of that afternoon is hazy; whether it is because it was years ago or because I willingly tried to forget it all is beyond me.

Running through the streets of our village, we ended up a ways away from the general vicinity. Our small town was relatively safe, everyone knew and looked out for each other, and the small plain we were in was always peaceful.

I remember watching my sister sit down amongst the tall and vibrant grass. It was a relatively cool day; the sounds of insects hummed all around. Looking up, I saw a flock of birds flying eastward, towards the mountains.

Normally, once I felt tiredness creep it's way across my body I would head on home, holding my sister's hand as we walked back through the dirt roads.

However, that afternoon we fell asleep in the valley. Perhaps it was the sun's rays that lulled us; the breeze was carrying the scent of the dying cherry blossoms. I shut my eyes after making sure that my sister was somewhere close to me.

I only awoke when the thundering of horse's hooves and the subtle clanging of battle armor was approaching us.

Still groggy and being a child, not recognizing the sense of eminent danger, I stood up, which immediately caught the attention of the 4 men. They were burly and appeared to be rather exhausted. I hesitantly but foolishly took a step towards them.

They kept their distance, and shouted at me to not be scared, and that all they asked for was a place to stay, a place where they would be given food.

I pointed in the direction of an inn run by an elderly couple. My sister then sat up, calling my name.

The men froze and exchanged glances. They asked for her age and I replied. She was a shy girl of 7.

She walked over to me and tugged on my shirt, signaling that she wanted to go home. Her eyes were doubtful; she was always more perspective of situations than I was. If only I paid attention to the signals she was trying to send...

The men asked if we could show them the way to the inn and since it was in the same general direction as our house, I agreed.

I remember making the mistake of having my sister walk behind me and in front of the men. A few minutes of suspiciously silent walking later, the men whistled for my attention. I turned around and my sister was on one of their horses. They had managed to gag her soundlessly and now held her by her hair.

I couldn't process what I was seeing or hearing. I made a move to run away but fell as my legs didn't react in time with my brain. To think that my first instinct was to run...to leave my sister behind and at the mercy of these men.

The oldest looking man was shouting and ordering the man with my sister to let her off. He refused and whispered something into the older one's ear. His sun crinkled skin pulled downwards into a frown as he pondered on about something. In the end, he vigorously shook his head in denial and grabbed my sister, throwing her off the horse. She screamed through the gag and my breath hitched as I saw that her head began bleeding.

I was still on the ground, watching the men begin to argue and yell at one another.

Should I be getting up? I should, shouldn't I? Looking back, I realized that I wouldn't have been able to anyway. Fear paralyzes you. It paralyzes time and dreams. I only managed to stare, horrified at the sight of my sister, who was half unconscious on the ground, making soft weeping sounds.

One of the men turned back to me. They all seemed to have settled on a decision. One detail I recall perfectly was what he told me before he hauled my sister back up onto his horse like a sack of rice.

In a clear but slightly hoarse voice he stated, "No one likes cowards."

Then, struck hard by the hefty scabbard of his katana, the world went black. I was shaken awake by the frantic townspeople, who knows how many hours later, with no sister to hold my hand on the way back home this time.