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Rohan thought more about the mysterious street opening since he returned home from the graveyard. The house had looked oddly familiar, but his mind was preoccupied with far too many things at the time to think about it. Heaven’s Door couldn’t read his own memories, he learned that now, but it had struck him just how much he didn’t remember of his childhood in Morioh.
Was it that night that had shaken up his memories? Was it perhaps so terrifying that the memory had been lost in the furthest recesses of his mind, locked away by repression? He recalled his home with enough clarity, but there were odd gaps, fuzzy clouds blocking out what he knew he should remember.
At first, he was determined to find new material for his manga. Recalling his childhood memories, reliving those raw moments of bliss and joy, ignorant to the adult world he had not yet crossed through, it would make perfect material. To remember those emotions in its entire capacity, knowing a human experience fully and completely, it would surely inspire him.
But as he stood before the alleyway now, more thoughts crossed the great Rohan Kishibe’s mind.
That night that the man had told him about at the Sugimoto family grave. The night the Sugimoto family was killed in cold blood. How Reimi Sugimoto snuck him out the window to save him from a murderous monster. How she made sure he was safe, considering his life before her own, sacrificing her own life to keep him alive.
How could he not remember her until now?
Traversing the alley gave him a bit of a chill down his spine, recalling how Koichi had just barely survived escaping it thanks to Rohan using his Stand. But now that he had a bit better of an idea how the alleyway operated, he knew how to be careful. His rationalizations quickly began to chip away at the anxiety of remembering that cold chill against his neck.
Rohan was used to having a busy mind. He would look up at birds in the sky and study how their wings would move and steady themselves with the wind’s current. Once or twice, he’s gazed at a few flowers and wondered just how deep they rooted themselves into the ground, able to withstand the weather’s cruelty.
“Little Rohan?”
And now, his mind was busy once again, scrambling to recall anytime he might have seen her face before that fateful day with Koichi. He quickly ceased that train of thought, choosing instead to focus on the present, and the fact that he was already in front of her anyways, so trying to recall such a thing now of all times before he'd even greeted her was rather pointless.
“What are you doing here?” Reimi inquired. She sat at the front steps of the ethereal remains of her home, the front gate of the home being left open. Arnold, her beloved pet dog, lay next to her as she pet his head, the blood from his wound dripping down the steps. A sight so grizzly, but yet so heartwarming.
Rohan regained his usual haughty demeanor, folding his arms. “Well, Miss Sugimoto, Koichi has told me that he’s informed the two neanderthals he calls friends about your story. So I suppose we’ve fulfilled some part of your demands.”
A bright smile formed on Reimi’s face, her pale rose-colored eyes twinkling with joy. She stood up from the steps, shaky hands clasped together, as faint tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, thank you, little Rohan! That means the world to me!”
“Yes, well… I don’t have many connections in Morioh, as I only recently moved back. So don’t expect much from me.” Though Rohan’s tone was as cold and self-important as ever, his expression nearly betrayed him. And it seems Reimi saw right through it, a playful smirk on her face.
“So that’s the only thing you came to see me for? I don’t think you’re the type to come all the way here just to tell me that.” A small chuckle escaped her lips. She seemed to read him like a book, without the use of his Stand. Rohan almost felt it was unfair.
“Seems you’re sharper than you let on. I came here to speak with you.”
Reimi ever so slightly tilted her head to the side. “To speak with me? Why?”
“Well…” Rohan began, “your face had seemed oddly familiar to me after Koichi and I met you. When I went to find your family grave and confirm your story, someone spoke to me there. That’s when I realized why you called me ‘little Rohan.’ You were my babysitter when I was around four years old, is that right?”
Reimi’s eyes widened, surprised he recalled such a thing. But her grin was the more than obvious giveaway that she was pleased by that. “I sure was! You were certainly a handful sometimes!”
Rohan couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Him, the great Rohan Kishibe, such a handful as a child? It was certainly nothing any babysitter couldn’t handle. Nevertheless, when it dawned on him that he’d have to be vulnerable with someone to get the information he needed, he felt himself stiffen. Reimi noticed, and waited patiently, as it seemed he still had something he wanted to say.
“Yes, about that… I don’t seem to recall many of my childhood memories here in Morioh. My Stand, Heaven’s Door, can’t read my own memories the way I can read the ones of others. They're disjointed, like a puzzle with missing pieces, and I wanted to make sure I could fill as many of those gaps as possible. So I figured the best, and really only person I could ask, was you.”
Reimi’s expression softened. She sat back down on the steps, giving Arnold a gentle pet on the head. She used her other hand to pat against the space beside her on the steps. “I don’t mind. It’d be nice to talk about the better things in the past for once.”
Rohan nodded, and took a seat next to her.
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“I really did that?”
Reimi chuckled at Rohan’s surprised reaction. “Yep! It was kinda weird, seeing you so focused like that. I remember I had just finished making lunch and I came out to call you inside, and I found you staring so hard at a leaf that I thought your eyes were going to pop out of your head!”
“Well, to be a manga artist, it’s important to understand the intricacies of how everything works. Authenticity is of great value when it comes to my line of work, something that so many others fail to grasp. I suppose that is what makes me the great Rohan Kishibe, after all.”
Reimi smirked at his confidence, finding it more amusing than annoying. “Right, you mentioned something about that before you left last time. I always knew you had a passion for art.”
“Really now? You remember me being interested in art as a child?” Rohan didn’t quite remember how far back his interest in drawing and creating stories reached. He had been drawing for so much of his life that he wasn’t quite sure where it began. As far as he recalled, it was just something that he found appealing and fun as a child.
Reimi looked up at the sky, one that didn’t feel as bright as Morioh’s typical sky but felt oddly peaceful all the same. “I remember it was during summer, while your parents were out at some gathering and asked me to look after you. The sun was just starting to set, and I had just finished making dinner for us, so I went to look for you. I looked all over the house, but I couldn’t find you. You’d always show up in the weirdest places around the house whenever you disappeared from my sight.”
“What do you mean by weird?”
Reimi giggled. “I found you once inside the highest cupboard in our kitchen! I never knew how you got up there in the first place! And you were napping!”
Rohan was surprised to say the least. Blushing in embarrassment, he hastily folded his arms, huffed, and tried to force a cocky smirk. “W-Well, perhaps I just found it comfortable. I don’t think I need to explain my actions to anyone. Sometimes certain sleeping positions are more comfortable for the neck than others!”
The young girl couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you getting so defensive? You were four! Four year olds do weird stuff all the time!”
“R-Right…” As he eased his tense shoulders, Rohan cursed himself internally for trying to save face so hastily. How dare such a thing make him lose composure like that? The great Rohan Kishibe, he told himself, shouldn’t find such indignity in the actions of his four-year-old self, as children of that age have hardly developed their minds properly. “Please continue.”
Reimi nodded, twiddling her thumbs in thought as she recalled the memory, running it back in her mind like an old film.
“I was looking for you all over my house, but I couldn’t find you. Admittedly, I panicked a little and thought you’d somehow disappeared. I was about to go call the police from the house phone, but then I saw you outside on these very front steps we're sitting on now, and you were drawing something. You were drawing a stray cat that was taking a nap by the stairs. It must've made its way through the gate somehow, and you were so focused that I felt bad disturbing you. But when I opened the door, the cat got startled and ran off. You were so upset about it, you started crying, and I felt bad.”
“You should.” Rohan said, his snarky grin a mile wide. “Making my inspiration run off like that. It’s important that I captured the sleeping form of that cat, regardless of whatever reason my four-year-old self had in mind.”
The two shared a laugh from that statement. No matter his cockiness, Reimi seemed to see right through him. It was odd. He felt he could let his guard down around her, because she didn’t take any of his jabs harshly. It really did feel like he was speaking to an old friend, even if he couldn’t remember her until now.
“It certainly seemed important to you. You were pretty upset at me. ‘No fair!’, you told me, ‘Now I can’t draw anything, big sis Reimi!’ You really let me have it, y’know.”
How amusing, Rohan thought to himself. So young, and already so dedicated to his craft. Perhaps Reimi didn’t quite know where he got the interest to draw in the first place, but it was evident from her recollection that the passion was truly there, even at four years old.
“I apologized as much as I could,” Reimi continued, “but you just kept crying. So I thought of something. I said, ‘Don’t worry, little Rohan. If you want, after you eat your dinner, you can draw me and Arnold! And we’ll stay very still for you, so you can draw us without any interruptions.’ And you were so eager, you immediately ran inside and waited for your dinner.”
“Oh? I was that eager?”
“You sure were. I had to tell you to slow down eating or you’d make yourself sick.”
“Well, hopefully I avoided such a fate.”
Reimi tried to hold back too hard of a chortle at Rohan’s reply, took a pause to give Arnold a pet on the head, and continued once more. “I sat down with Arnold on the steps and let you draw us before the sun went down. We were very still, as we promised, and you finished before it got too dark out. Normally, I wouldn’t let you up past your bedtime like that, but I decided to go easy on you that night, just that once. Your drawing was pretty good, for a four year old.”
“Of course it was.” Rohan was quick to fire back, “My skills are unparalleled, because I take the time to make sure my manga reflects reality. It seemed I caught onto that at an early age. Frankly, I must’ve been quite wise for such a young child.”
“Maybe.” Reimi said with a similar smug expression to his, before it softened again. “When you showed me the drawing, you gave it to me and said I could keep it. I cherished it, and I kept it in a drawer in my room. I don’t really know where it is now…” Her face fell, her heart aching at the uncertainty of the drawing’s current fate. Rohan couldn't exactly comfort her with knowledge of its whereabouts, so he answered the only way he really could think of: with blunt honesty.
“... Truthfully, I can’t say where it is now. It might have been thrown away with some of your other belongings, or distributed to a relative I don’t know of. Whatever the case, it’s a four year old’s drawing, it’s not like it’s of any value to anyone, especially now that my skills have long since improved.”
Reimi stood up from the steps, walking down and looking back up at the sky. “You don't understand. It might have just been something small, but it was special to me. I thought about keeping it with me always, no matter where I went. Because that way, I could always remember the past, no matter what." Her fists clenched and shook, trying to contain the emotion building up within her.
Rohan stood up and followed her down the steps, Arnold slightly raising his head as if he was finally paying proper attention. As she turned to face him, he saw Reimi’s lips tremble, arms slowly wrapping around herself as if to hold herself in a comforting embrace.
“But I don’t get to grow up and keep that picture close… It’s now lost to who knows where, and I’m stuck here, waiting and praying for someone to enact justice on that monster that took everything from me and so many others!”
Arnold got up from his resting place on the stairs and leaned up against her leg, whimpering. Rohan wasn’t sure what to do. What could he possibly say? Rohan was never good with comfort, much less caring about the feelings of others. The overthinker he was, he tried to cobble together something that sounded at least somewhat careful.
“You shouldn’t worry so much about a picture. It serves as a sentimental reminder, yes, but you were lucky enough to be at an age where you can recall things with far better clarity than a young child can. Not to mention I've spent all this time talking to you and you've remembered every last detail of those days you watched over me with a confident accuracy. So I believe you have nothing to worry about when it comes to your memory. And perhaps… when all is said and done, and your lingering spirit can pass on… maybe you’ll still remember those happier times in the afterlife. Even if the picture may be gone, you’re lucky to have the memory with you even now. It’s a luxury I hadn’t been granted much of in my twenty years of living.”
Reimi paused, eyes wide and glistening with budding tears as she contemplated Rohan’s words. Her smile soon returned, sniffling as she wiped away a tear that had just briefly fallen from her eye. Then more tears fell.
“Oh come now.” Rohan sighed. “Why do you keep crying?”
Reimi took a very small step back and looked Rohan in the eye, pink eyes watering with tears. Her voice quivered faintly, soft and trying not to break.
“Because… you’ve gotten so big, little Rohan. Look at you… just look at you. Twenty years old... I can hardly believe it. I remember when you were so small... Little Rohan, all grown up… I can’t help but feel proud…”
The weight of her words hit Rohan all at once. It felt as if a faint memory was unlocking in that part of his brain where he had figured his memories retreated to. A warm embrace, and her gentle smile, watching the fireflies in the evening hours. No wonder it had seemed so familiar to him. She stayed the same, and that's what seemed to jog those old memories. They were in there somewhere, and perhaps with time, they would all come back to him with just as much clarity as she can recall.
“... You’re the same as ever, big sis Reimi. At least, what I can remember of you.”
Reimi sharply looked up at Rohan upon hearing the nickname she hadn't heard since before her death, with wide open eyes sparkling with incoming tears. Time felt as if it stood still for a moment, before Reimi rushed towards Rohan and embraced him in a tight hug. The manga artist was startled by the action for a moment, but as he heard Reimi’s joyful sobs and felt her tears lightly dampen his shirt (he would question the logic of how a ghost’s tears manifest physically later), he slowly and gently reciprocated the hug.
“Little Rohan… no matter how much bigger you get… don’t forget me again, okay?”
All of a sudden, Rohan was brought back to remembering why he came back to the alley in the first place, wanting to recall a face he had long forgotten. He couldn’t forget her again, could he?
No, that was impossible. Sometimes childhood becomes hazier with time, and some faces disappear from your memory the longer you spend not seeing them. But somehow, in this moment with Reimi, the lock holding his memories back was slowly chipping away, faint bits and pieces resurfacing to his mind. It wasn’t a clear enough picture, but it was enough.
He didn’t expect a faint sob to build in his throat, though he pushed it back down. He wasn’t good at that sort of thing, especially not in front of someone, and he had to hold himself together. Still, he was lucky Reimi couldn’t see the faint tear he wiped from his eye.
“I’m sure I won’t. My memory is leagues better than that of my younger self, so there should be no trouble in that… but if it truly makes you feel any better, I’ll draw a new picture of you and Arnold and keep it someplace safe. That way, I can make sure I'll always remember you. You seem to believe in such mementos of memory, after all, and I suppose I can indulge you, just this once. Think of it as returning the favor for being my babysitter.”
He could tell she was smiling. Their embrace ended slowly as Reimi backed away, wiping her remaining tears. As her tears faded and her vision cleared, it was like she could see that little boy she spent her days babysitting all those years ago. She took another long look at the man in front of her, and Rohan could tell she was still absorbing the fact that little Rohan was all grown up.
“I’d like that, little Rohan… I’d like that a lot.”