![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Droplets (2018 FanFiction Competition)
Sep. 9th, 2018 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smash_ficTitle: Droplets
Rating: PG
Prompt: If you rememberme, I don't care if everyone else forgets
Fandom/Series: Wolf Children
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Summary: Ame has been living in the mountains for the past 5 years. Everything was fine, until he finds his mother has been hospitalised.
Droplets
My mother was dying. It was only a couple of years after I’d left. I felt it through the bond between us, a beam made of sparkling lights. But I felt it dim. It sparkled reluctantly, weakly. I didn’t return home immediately. I stayed in my little home in the mountains. I brushed it off as a mistake, an accident. She had probably tripped or something, I reassured myself. But there was still an uneasiness that had settled into the back of my mind. Give it a few days, I told myself. It’ll go back to normal. It didn’t. I looked at my little mountain home one last time, then decided to go check on my mother.
“Mum?”
I knocked on the wooden sliding door. There was no answer, so I slid it open and went inside. “Mum?” I repeated, louder this time.
“MUM! HANA!” No reply.
The house was empty. My heart was thumping rapidly in my chest. I could feel dread rising up from my stomach. I blinked and took a breath. The neighbours would know. They would know where she is. I switched to my wolf form, running to the house miles away, across the country land. I switched back to human, paws turning into hands, fur flattening to creamy, smooth skin, and ears flopping back into my hair. I rapped on their old bamboo door impatiently. The old couple answered the door, surprise registering on their faces when they saw me.
“Ame...” I plastered a smile on my face and quickly asked,
“Do you know where my mother is?” They exchanged glances like they were speaking to each other. The old woman looked down at her feet. The old man stared at me with pity in his eyes. “Hana... she’s in hospital, in the city.”
My head jerked up, looking the old man straight in the eye. He flinched a little.
“Okay. Thank you. Do you know which one?” I asked breathlessly. He nodded and told me the name of the medical centre. I quickly said goodbye and walked away. My mother was in hospital. There was no mistake. I would have to go back to the city where my father was killed.
I took the train to the city. It was nearly empty. Just me and some city people who I guessed were returning to the city. When the train stopped, I couldn’t get out fast enough. I arrived at the hospital half an hour later. I rushed through the doors and almost fell on the receptionist’s desk.
“Hello, can I help you?” She asked, a little flustered.
“Uh, yes. My mother is here. Her name is Hana.”
The lady looked down at her computer and clicked the mouse a few times.
“Room 37, second floor,” she said.
“Alright. Thank you.” I ran into the lift, frantically pushing the second floor button. The lift finally left me out.
“Second floor,” the lift said in a cool voice. I stepped out of the elevator and scanned the many rooms and found 37. I gently opened the door
“Mum?” I said tentatively.
“Ame?” She was lying on a bed with blue sheets, tubes going in and out of her arms, machines beeping and whirring.
“Mum! What happened?” She smiled weakly.
“Ah. Well, I was diagnosed with cancer,” she said softly.
“How,” I demanded.
“Skin cancer,” she said simply. I couldn’t process what was happening. My mother had cancer.
I walked closer to the bed. My mother was deathly pale. You could see the blue veins snaking their way up her arms. She lifted a pale, white hand and touched my face.
“How... How long have you been here?” I rasped.
“6 months,” she said weakly. My mother had been in hospital for 6 months, and I wasn’t there for her. A tear slid down my cheek from my hazel eyes. She moved her finger and wiped it away. “Ame. I’m going to die.” I was sobbing. Tears splashed on the floor, and my mother smiled sadly. “I can feel my strength slipping away every day. Even the doctors say so. They say sometime this week.” It was Sunday, the last day my mother had to live. The last time I would see her.
“Tell me. Tell me what happened when I was gone,” I whispered. She smiled.
“Not much. I did the gardening. I started painting.”
“Painting?” She smiled softly.
“Yeah. I could spend all week or even longer painting.” My mother suddenly stopped talking. She coughed. And coughed again. She put her hand over her mouth. Big, wracking coughs. She was wheezing and dry-retching. She managed to control them, and finally stopped. I pulled her hand away from her mouth. The was dark, red blood splattered on her hand. She wiped it on her sheets. Hana clasped my hand in hers.
“Ame. I love you. Don’t ever forget that there will always be someone... someone who will love... love you, dead or alive,” she whispered fiercely. My tears dripped down onto the ever growing puddle of tears at my feet.
“I won’t forget you. I’ll remember everything you did. As long as I remember, it doesn’t matter is no one else does.” Hana smiled faintly and closed her eyes. Her grip tightened on my hand.
“Mum, I love you.”
“You... are just like your father,” she whispered, eyes still closed. Then her hand went limp in mine. I shook her hand. She didn’t move. My mother was dead. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears, but they just slipped out from the sides. I brushed her hair out of her face. I sniffled a bit and wiped my eyes.
“I love you.”
I was 10 years old when I left my mother to live in the mountains.
I was 12 years old when my second teacher left.
I was 15 years old when my mother died.
