Ephemeral <Naruto>

Two: I Am...

"If we have been pleased with life, we should not be displeased with death, since it comes from the hands of the same master."

-Michelangelo

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Death is such a funny thing actually. Some people say it will lead others to peace and some others are still trying to stay alive — the souls that are stuck in the world of living.  I guess that's what people called human desperation.  All of us are afraid to die because dying is such a painful thing.  I'm still young and yet I know what death feels like.  Sometimes I wish that I should die not to be wake up as a different person.

I was too erratic to care about my physical condition or my surroundings.  If it weren't for the Doctors, I could've hurt myself more and reopen my wounds.

They have finally calmed me down while they gently lead me back to bed.  I didn't do anything but to oblige.  I was too stunned, too speechless to make my brain work.  It took me a very long time to recover myself and it only took one sleep to do that.

Actually, they used an acupuncture to do the job.

At first I was afraid, trying to prove myself that I was under hallucination — expecting to wake up in the hospital then I waiting for my family or friends to visit me.  But, this is not the hospital anymore.  It's a clinic fresh from the medieval age of Japan.

You can't smell the antiseptic scent or having to feel the cold air conditioner in the room.  Instead, you can only smell the odd scent of herbs and feel the sun light coming from the large window.  I don't think its a window.  More like it's a sliding door to me.

Reluctantly, I examine my current body.  Let's just say that I won't explain some other details.  For all I know, she could be in her teens.

What would my family react if they found out that I swapped bodies with a girl who is years younger than me?  I can't imagine what their reaction.

Guilt prodded in me, reminding myself that I stole a body that does not belong to me.  It was utterly cruel and selfish.

I shifted uncomfortably on the bed, burying my hands on my face as I could feel a headache building up.

The only person who visited me so far is a woman who claimed to be my older sister.  I don't know what the doctors told her, but she seemed rather — sad.

Her dark hair is too long that it reached past her knees and her eyes are bloodshot like she's been crying for hours.  Her clothes are strange and different from the Japanese kimonos I saw back then. 

I feel sorry for her since the person residing in this body is not actually her sister.

The first thing she said to me was, "Are you ok, Toyotama?"  Reflexively, I gave her perplexed expression as a reaction.  Her face fell like all the hope and expectations had been drained down in one go.  She lowered her head and I could see clearly she pursed her lips like she is resisting herself from bursting out her tears.

Gosh, she's strangely emotional.

It took me later to realize that she's in denial of me having amnesia.  I...couldn't fault her.  But, it is foolish to remain constantly believing to your own delusions if you cannot face the reality.

She keeps visiting every day, treating me with her kindness by bringing me sweets, instruments, or anything to keep me entertained.  The lady is not the only one.

Most of the doctors and servants are giving me pitiful looks and they keep treating me like I was made of glass.  Always hovering.  Always nosy.  I could've never bothered them if it weren't for them to keep whispering behind my back.  It was obvious because the walls are made of paper screens and I could hear them despite keeping their voices "lower".

It was suffocating.

I used my fingers to brush my short choppy hair to ease the stress.  They told me that it was cut off by force and it was still unknown who did it.  Most of the Ladies advised me to regrow it back to its "regular" length.  The thought of having my hair went down to the floor is very uncomfortable.

It made me wonder why the women, including "Toyotama", wanted to grew their hair long.  If I have interests in studying ancient Japan, then I won't be thinking any stuff that are pretty outdated or out of this world to me.

Then again, the reality of living here is even much worse.

Everything is like an alien to me and they treated to me the same.

Every night, I covered myself in blankets and cry, mourning for never going to see my friends and family again.  Dorothy, oh gosh, will be devastated.  I had promised to her that I will text her when I reached Japan.

Whenever I went to sleep, I would let myself dream and forget all of this.  And when I wake up, I thought I was back in my apartment again and on my own (but hard) bed.  But, the grim reality set me in when I looked at the wooden ceilings and a very comfortable mattress.

I would pinch my cheeks and poke on my wounds to check if it's all real.  A sharp jab of pain is enough to set it all in.

It felt so surreal and, at the same time, abhorrently real.

But, after I finally gathered myself up, I pushed all of the painful memories away and try to remember everything that Toyotama remembers — even though it's futile.  This is what I can least do.  I need to act normal as possible and having a breakdown will not help in this situation.  I don't want the people here to panic once they've realize that the person inhabiting this body is not Toyotama.

I can't risk that.

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I wondered why that woman would even bother to give me snacks.  Let alone as the only person who always visited me.

"Toyotama how is your day?"

"Is your condition ok?"

"Look!  I brought snacks!"

"The doctor said that you should eat more.  It will help you recover fast and Chichi-ue will be displeased if you look thin and frail."

"Please talk.  I know you can't remember me, but I'm not here to take advantage of you..."

Stop.  Stop it!

I squeezed my eyes shut, pleading that the blankets will cover me into a black void.

"Please... I'm worried.  Everyone is worried about you."

I froze as her words hit me like a slap to the face.  I'm so sorry.  I'm not Toyotama.  I'm so sorry for taking her life away.

It hurts.  It really hurts to have someone caring for you when they didn't realized that it was an imposter who wore the skin of your loved one.  This woman is just a stranger to me.  But, why it hurts so much?  Why do I long her?

She's not–

"...Ok.  If you want space, then I won't force you." I heard clothes ruffling and feet shuffled on the floor.  "I'll leave now."

Then, it snapped.

I bolted out of my bed towards the woman and throw my arms behind her before she exited the room.

"Wha-?!" She was startled and I tightened my hug, letting those ugly tears spill out on my face.  As I silently beg her not to leave.

I'm a dramatic idiot.

Suddenly, I felt warm hands placed over mine as she knelt down, letting ourselves groveling on the floor.  Her shoulders are shaking and then she burst into tears.

To be frank, I think we both are.

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Fact(s):
*To add some humor (or not) in this grim chapter, try you remove "ma" from the main character's current name.  See ya! *drives away*