one
It was embarrassing. That was the first thing that came to mind. Crying so loudly out in public, especially with a complete stranger at hand? Who had definitely witnessed my breakdown?
Unheard of.
Sure, I’d done some pretty embarrassing things in my childhood before I died, but back then I had lucky, lucky the privilege of complete baby amnesia. However, due to the fact that I seemed to be processing this very well at the moment despite my lacking physiology, I had a hunch that I was not going to experience that privilege once again.
“What’s a baby doing out here, especially in such chilly weather?” It was a man. Well-made observation, Captain Obvious.
I couldn’t understand what the heck he said, but I could definitely place it as Japanese. Or Korean. I wasn't always sure of the difference between the two. Probably Japanese, considering how soft all the syllables sounded.
It was strange. I had a freak out just a few seconds ago, and yet I was already calm enough to listen to the tinge of hysteria in a stranger’s voice and find it faintly amusing. I decided not to dwell on it. The longer I could avoid the truth of my situation, whatever it was, the longer I could stay happy. Or, well, the happiest I could be in circumstances like these.
I couldn’t entirely rule out a kidnapper scenario, after all.
The man seemed to peer closer at me. It was obvious he was trying to decide what to do with me.
Leave a helpless teenager alone, or subject them to whatever else he was considering? That was the question, wasn’t it? (I’m pretty sure I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Something about those chubby arms of mine and their shortness was distinct.)
I made to reach upwards, maybe cop a feel of a cheek or something. Get it? (I shouldn’t have the strength to do that.) Anyways, that didn’t work, because I was swaddled.
Whoever had packed me sure was prepared, because whatever I had been laying in was cushy, and a discarded blanket laying upon the concrete had been thick and warm.
My ears were slightly chilly, but other than that, I was fine. My abandoning was planned to a ridiculously meticulous degree, I thought. How depressingly hilarious. After a few more minutes of being a lab rat under dissection inspection (has time always passed by this slow?) it seemed that the stranger had come to a decision, because he bent down, picked up something, me, hiked me up his chest, and began walking.
I’ll be honest, I blanked.
Once I was fairly sure that whoever was carrying me wasn’t about to dump me in some ravine and be off with it, I just didn’t care anymore.
My body was tired, I was tired.
I can’t tell you shit about what happened, because the sheer experience of being stuck in a tiny swaddle with what felt like mental development that was most definitely not enough to support my continued consciousness was torture.
It was incredibly boring, and since my dear deteriorated physiology was no longer advanced enough to keep up with me, my head began aching sharply. I didn’t cry out, though.
I was thoroughly zoned out to the point that I wouldn’t be able to tell you whether or not a hurricane had passed through the area. I’m pretty sure the stranger, the man, whatever, tried talking to me at some point. I don’t know.
Like I said, completely zoned out.
It was only when we began to approach the bustle and murmur telling of a large crowd did I bother to be curious about anything other than sleeping.
Namely, my body. I didn’t want to face it. I still didn’t. But it was clear something had changed, and it hadn’t exactly changed for the better. I think - and don’t fault me if I’m wrong, I had an ICU stint for a painful 17 hours, I was still more than a little psychologically addled - I became a baby.
Don’t ask me how the fuck that works, because I sure as fuck can’t answer. I couldn’t answer then, and I can’t answer it ever.
It was some of the most mystical hippie crap I’d ever gone through, and I was starting to think that since there was clearly a God somewhere out there, maybe I should have uttered a few prayers before bed or something. Probably or something, because if nobody else had talked about it to get international acclaim or something, this was most likely not the work of any holy deity.
With my luck, this was my eternal punishment for my suspicious browser history, and it was going to be long and enduring. As if in response to my morose musing, a voice lifted me out of my mind. “What baby makes a face such as that one? So serious! I wonder what you must be thinking about, to pull such an expression,” the man laughed.
I had shifted positions. He was now holding me somewhere out in front of him, most likely to see me better. I imagine his arms were outstretched in that comical expression pose used when an adult wants to be as far away from a child as possible without dropping them. It would have been funny, except I was the … child? (still wasn’t sold on the baby theory) and we were in the middle of what sounded like major league Shibuya crossing.
Pay attention! I wanted to scream. Don’t drop me! Would have also worked. I wasn’t picky, but the general gist was probably understood through my expression, because the stranger tucked me under his arm again and under the safety and tight comfort, I relaxed a little.
I’d read somewhere that babies didn’t have good eyesight when they were infants, and it was definitely true. The most distinct object I could make out seemed to be a faintly shiny pin somewhere above me, a clean-shaven chin and what was probably my own nose staring up at me from the inner corners of my eyes. I stared at it for a while. My nose twitched when I made it twitch. Woah, trippy.
While I didn’t have the best notion of time, I probably shouldn’t have been as distracted as I was by the fascinating prospect of a nose to the point where I was losing track of how long we had been walking for.
But there we were, stopped, apparently at the destination across what must have been the entire town. It was strange. I felt so clumsy within my swaddle, and time seemed non-linear. It was as fast as a raging waterfall, carrying me along, and then suddenly it slowed to the pace of molasses.
It annoyed me.
At the sudden thought of being provoked, I felt an urge to cry. My sudden bouts of silliness and immaturity had passed, and I wanted to have a nice, private cry away from any prying eyes. If I was feeling generously unashamed that day, I might have even said I was willing to submit to a tantrum or two, provided I wasn’t witnessed.
A large, warm hand patted my back in soothing circular motions. Oh. “Cold, wasn’t it? The wind was certainly a bit chilly today,” the chest said. Oh, wait. The chest belonged to the man. The stranger had said that. I’m not sure whether that man was genuinely that obtuse or if he had picked up on my distressed cues, but it worked. He calmed me, and I felt ready to pass out. So that’s what I did.
My consciousness had overstayed its welcome, and now it was getting kicked out.
.
“Matron,” he called. The door in front of him was stylized well, and although made of stone, had held up excellently and retained a light weight to it over the years, unburdened by the gathering of elements upon its surface.
The entire building was of the same quality, albeit a bit shabbier than the greeting hall. First impressions were important impressions, after all.
A portly young woman hurried to the front, and even though she hadn’t receive so much as a knock to indicate arrival, flung open the door. It was like a supernatural sense. “Oh, Takeshi,” she said.
Her eyes flicked downwards. To the infant he had tucked in his elbow, no doubt.
That was also the reason why he had decided to seek out this place, even after so many years. It had mildly surprised him to see the lady who answered the door to him, changed but not unfamiliar.
“Arina,” he acknowledged. “May I come in?” He took a look back outside, beyond the porch he stood upon. The light of day had dimmed, not noticeably, but enough for someone to see clearly that dusk would soon appear in hazes of fiery-red.
The woman, Arina, gestured for him to enter.
“I didn’t think you were idiotic enough to sire a child,” she remarked, off-handedly. It seemed they have entirely bypassed the formalities of unnecessarily flaunted greeting after time long parted, then. They walked along a long, rickety wooden corridor. The paint was peeling off of the white walls, the ceiling, and the floorboards were creaky in some places, weak in others, all desperately in need of a good coat of varnish.
“I’m not,” Takeshi said. “I found her.”
At this, Arina stopped. “Where?” she asked, bewildered.
“Next to the Patch. You know, the trees,” Takeshi said. “But no one ever goes there,” Arina said. “Well except for you,” she quickly amended. Takeshi then laughed. “It must have been pure luck that I found her, then.” He held up a basket. “She was laying in this. It was as well-planned as an abandoning could have gone.”
Arina scoffed. “She shouldn’t have been abandoned in the first place. There are assistance programs established in case of this, who already support many out-of-luck mothers and their children. What’s one more?”
She turned around and began walking away, and Takeshi scrabbled a little to keep up with her abrupt pace. A silence. The corridor eventually opened up into a commons area, just as old and worn as everything else so far. “
Sit down,” Arina commanded. Takeshi sat. “I expect you want her taken into the orphanage system, then,” she said. Takeshi nodded. “I think it’d be for the best. I won’t pretend at all that I have any notion of intending to keep a young child, especially with the hours I keep and the profession I maintain.”
Arina sniffed delicately. “Well then, you’ll have to sign the paperwork. You won’t have to do much, just the name, when you found her. Likened estimation of age,” she said.
Takeshi gaped.
“Me?” He spluttered, “Me? But I thought -“ Arina rolled her eyes. He sure was the same. “It’s not so hard. She’ll receive a randomly generated last name from the list approved for village orphans, and you can just give her a nice first name,” she said.
“But my naming sense is absolutely terrible,” he said. “I named my pet lizard Lizard. What are you expecting me to do to this poor child? Call her Ko for the rest of her life?” Arina shrugged. “Why not?”
Takeshi gaped. It seemed to be a recurring expression in his repertoire these days.
He shook his head. “No. Even I’m not that stupid.” Meanwhile, Arina had been fiddling with the blanket tucked in the edges of the basket the whole time. There. What felt like an especially embroidered edge had caught her touch. She flipped it over, and there it was. Two characters, the only remnant and memory of who had left the child there.
It was clearly hand-stitched, because it was messy as heck. It left a lot to be desired, but the emotion and warmth behind it was clear. 庭子. Garden child. Considering where she had been found, it was apt.
Perhaps a little too apt, even.
“Well,” Arina said. “You might not be stupid enough, but whoever her caretaker was sure is.”