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Christmas morning, 1992
For the past three years, Light had been in charge of sorting Christmas gifts. But this year, Sayu could read, and so she took charge of the operation. He watched her check each box and read off their names: Light, Sayu, Mom, Dad. The kids, of course, had the most boxes, and the parents insisted they go first.
Light's first gift: The latest installment of his favorite detective series. Yay! He thanked his dad.
Sayu's first gift: A picture book of farm animals, with only a few words. She immediately started to flip through it, giggling at the funny drawings.
Light's second gift: A race car, from his grandma all the way in Vancouver. He frowned slightly, before remembering that was rude and turning it into a smile. He was getting too old for race cars. But he politely scooted it around on the floor and prepared himself to write a thank you note later.
Sayu's second gift: A Barbie doll in a pretty dress, with long, flowing hair. In the package was a hairbrush for her and some other clothes too.
This wasn't right at all, Light thought. Sayu wouldn't appreciate the doll properly. She was still too little. She liked playing in the mud and making potions in the backyard. If she took the doll with her, it would get all dirty. She wouldn't remember to brush its hair. No, Sayu definitely wasn't responsible enough for a doll like this.
Light's third gift: A plastic pteranodon. His favorite! He loved the big wings and fun crest. This was from his other grandma, who knew him much better.
Sayu's third gift: A baby doll with a bottle.
Sayu's fourth gift: A My Little Pony toy, again with long hair.
Sayu's fifth gift: Glitter nail polish.
Sayu was still a baby. Why did she need a baby doll? Sayu's nails were always dirty. The nail polish would chip right off! And the pony, like the Barbie, was sure to end up in a muddy puddle somewhere, with its hair all tangled up. No, none of these gifts were right for Sayu. They gave Light a funny feeling in his gut.
Light was six. He would be old enough to keep a Barbie clean, and brush her hair, and change her clothes. He would be responsible for the pretty little pony.
But they were for Sayu, not for him.
He put his pteranodon on top of the race car and drove it in a lap around the carpet.
Christmas Eve, 2015
Light hovered outside Sayu's door, gift in her hands. She steadied herself, working up the courage to knock. She'd spoken to Sayu over the phone plenty these past few months, but this would be the first time Sayu saw her sister face to face.
Before she could knock, Sayu flung the door open, ushering her in with a wide grin on her face. Light followed her in, slipping out of her shoes, and settled in around the tree. She handed Sayu her box, and Sayu handed her one in return.
Sayu's gift: A new set of stationery, with fancy ballpoint pens and highlighters in a variety of shades. She grinned, gave Light a quick hug, and then backed away.
Light's gift: Two gifts in one, actually.
First, an old, well-loved Barbie doll. Her hair was worn and had big chunks missing, and her clothes had certainly seen better days. But her skin had been carefully polished to remove all of the dirt that had stained her limbs.
And second, a brand new Barbie, sister to the first. The packaging proclaimed: You can be anything!
Suddenly, Light's vision blurred, and she felt her cheeks growing wet. She was a grown woman. She was way too old for Barbie dolls, and too old to be crying about them!
But Sayu didn't care. She pulled Light close, letting her sister's tears stain her sweater, and held her tight.