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Falling Stars: The Night Butterfly
🕑 Added 2018-09-12 21:17:32 +0000 UTCThe Night Butterfly - Yoruchou
The boy cried.
He didn’t know what else to do. His loneliness was nothing next to the aching taking hold of his Core, and all he could do to quench and appease it, was cry. His tears left dusty trails on his puffy cheeks, cascading out of bloodshot and tired eyes, but still he did his best to hold the sobs in. He may be hidden in his most secret of spots, high in the mountain flank and beyond the limits of the village, his paranoia was still telling him that someone could hear him, and he wouldn’t hear the end of it.
They were wrong about him.
They were wrong about his father.
They were just… wrong.
The boy tucked himself in deeper into the nook he was hidden in, hiding his hurting face in his stubby arms. His cheek still hurt from where he had been hit earlier; surely, it would leave a bruise, another to add to the list. He knew he wasn’t as frail and weak as his performance at the dojo showed. He just… wasn’t good in front of crowds. Talking was an issue in itself, but fighting? It was even worse, and now, everyone saw him as the frail boy of the village who was abandoned by his father, the frail little thing who couldn’t even hold a knife if he was ordered to.
As this thought traversed his head, he cried even harder, and the sobs escaped him.
It was all he could do to lessen the pain…
“Yoru…?”
A shadow blocked the little light filtering through the cracks of the nook, and he looked up. His mother; she was distraught, terrified, and it was because of him. Because he had ran off, because he was hurt, because he had kept quiet.
“Yoruchou… Come here…”
She extended her arms into the nook, and the boy, with no hesitation, was drawn to her like a magnet, and into her warm embrace he fell, never willing to look up ever again.
That night, Yoruchou skipped dinner, and hid away in his room without a single word. He didn’t care what the elders of his clan would think. He was too upset to eat anyway, and he didn’t want to confront them. He was left exhausted on his bed, desperately trying to occupy his mind with some reading material, but still his thoughts wandered back to his struggles with every word he read, making it impossible to focus. This story was quite interesting too. It was the story of a warrior who was travelling back to his home, a home he had abandoned years ago after a disaster had struck. The tale focussed immensely on the warrior’s relations with his remaining family members, and while Yoruchou had no issue reading about the warrior’s siblings or cousins, he found himself flinching whenever his father was mentioned. His relation with him was rocky, and Yoruchou couldn’t understand why the hero wouldn’t talk to him. He had a father, at least…
He was interrupted when his door slid open, and he turned; it was his mother. Dressed in a white kimono decorated with pink and black flowers, she looked as radiant as ever. She was carrying a wooden tray that appeared to have a tea set and a bowl containing something that smelled sweet. Yoruchou looked away, unable to meet her eyes and feeling shame that his own were already filling with tears. Without a word, his mother walked up to his bed, and proceeded to install herself. Setting the tray down, she prepared two cups for each of them, putting one on his side of the tray and one on her own.
A moment of silence passed as she waited for her cup to cool down… and her voice, as sweet as the kindest angel, spoke up.
“Akayuki told me what happened at the dojo.”
He refused to look her way. She took a sip of her cup, and deemed it too hot still, setting it down.
“If you do not want to keep going there, no one will force you to return. Just say the word, and I will tell her.”
He stayed quiet for a long moment still, lost in thought… and then…
“No… I’ll stay…”
From the corner of his eyes, he saw her elegant antennas rise on her head, rendering her surprise visible. Finally gathering some form of courage after uttering these words, he turned to his cup and took it; it was cool enough to drink, but warm against his parched throat. Casting a glance at the tray, he saw the contents of the bowl; cookies, of various kinds. Nobody knew him like his mother did. He gladly went to take a fruity one from the bowl, and as he shyly bit on it after dipping it in the tea, his mother kept smiling.
“Why do you wish to stay?” she asked.
For moment, the only answer he could think of… was a shrug.
“...Is there something… you wish to prove, Yoru?”
Briefly, his eyes glanced up at her; she poured another cup for her, and offered to pour some more for him, which he nodded for. For her question, however, he wasn’t sure himself…
“I don’t know…,” was his reply. “I… I’m not… a fighter. But you are. And… and Dad is, too. A-and I’m a Star Warrior, t-there’s the word warrior in there, so, I have to be one…”
He took another cookie, eager to fill his mouth with it and stop talking.
“You know… your father didn’t want to be a warrior.”
He looked up at her, surprised at those words. What did she mean by that? She looked lost in memories, but pleasant ones…
“When he was much younger, your age, his wish was to be an author. His mind was swirling with stories, each richer than the last, each crafted with the vivid imagination of a child. But he was brought to war under the name of a Star Warrior, and while he bore that name with pride and might, it wasn’t… his first choice.”
Yoruchou took a moment to think of those words. But the countless stories he had heard about his father, they all described him as a timeless knight who stood before darkness and triumphed! And yet… he didn’t even want to. That… certainly put things into perspective. He looked up again when he realized that his mother had moved from her spot; she came to sit next to him on his bed, and used her kimono’s sleeve to rub at his cheek, even though he tried to move away. She had a quick grasp on him and gently yet firmly washed his face, making him flinch where he had a bruise. When she was done, she observed the bruise closer, and, ever so softly, ran her thumb against it, making him look down in shame. She was aware that he bruised easily and at nothing, and yet she still worried over him whenever he came back home with another.
And yet, in that kind gesture, Yoruchou found himself leaning toward her, and he set his head against her side, allowing her to wrap an arm around him.
“Mama…?”
“Yes, deary?”
“D… Did I do something wrong to Papa? Is that why… he’s not here?”
“What?! Oh… Oh, Yoruchou…”
She held him tighter, and he once again felt tears in his eyes, this time unable to stop them. They raised dust on his cheeks as they rolled down, and he hiccuped, feeling so so cold all of a sudden. Her arms were warm and inviting…
“My sweet little butterfly… Wherever did you get this idea?”
He shrugged.
“I don’t know… T… There are kids making fun of me at the dojo, ‘cause I don’t have an honourable father… They say he’s gone because of me…”
He heard her sigh deeply, and mumble something under her breath about “damnable kids”. She held him tighter and left a kiss on his head, rubbing his back in kind circles as she did.
“Is that what has been on your mind lately…?” she asked, receiving a shy nod as the unique answer. “My sweet little boy…”
He sniffled, trying to contain his hiccups.
“W-Why isn’t he h-here?” he asked between sobs. “I-Is it me…?”
“No,” she answered immediately, “no, it isn’t because of you, sweetie… Listen carefully, Yoruchou. Your father… is very far from here. Far away in another galaxy. He… is doing all that he can so you - and all the future generations of children - can grow in a world without nightmares. He… is building a dream, just for you. And when the time is right… he’ll be here, with us.”
She held him lovingly…
“There is one thing you must never doubt, my dear… Your father loves you. He loves you so much…”
Having calmed down during her explanations, Yoruchou ran his hand on his cheeks, rubbing the tears out of his eyes to the best of his abilities.
“And when is he gonna come back?” he asked, looking up at her with saddened eyes. “Is it soon?”
She smiled at him.
“I… do not know, my dear. Breaking down a nightmare and rebuilding a dream takes time… but as a Star Warrior, you will feel it, right here,” she patted his chest, “when he succeeds. What I can tell you with certainty, however, is that there is nobody more honourable than your father. Those children are mean because they do not know. When people don’t know, they say things they do not mean… I know it hurts. I know… But you are strong, Yoruchou. I know that as well.”
She ran her soft hand along his chin, lining his features as if she was seeing someone else’s… or perhaps she was seeing the exact same.
“You are strong just like him,” she told him. “Whether you get bruises or cry, never doubt your strength, my child.”
Slowly, surely… Yoruchou nodded his head. He was… just like his father. Despite the bruises, he was just like him. The boy leaned against his mother, and asked her one last question.
“Can you tell me more about Papa…?”
And his mother smiled.
“Of course, my dear. Oh, there is so much to tell of your father… Where to start…”
“He wanted to be an author, you said? What kind of books did he write? Did he write any at all?”
“Ohoh, he wrote many! Fantasy novels, all stories of ordinary people meeting grandiose destinies, stories of good and evil. They all had happy endings. I do believe the novels he published were under a different alias… Ah yes, I recall. Drahente Miras. That was his pen name.”
Yoruchou’s eyes widened; could it be…?! Hastily, he picked up the book he had been reading and turned it around to its cover. There, in golden lettering, was this very name. Drahente Miras. The boy smiled, brighter and brighter until his smile rivaled the sun in radiance.
His father had never left him.
Not one second.
Not ever.
