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Soft sunlight streams in through the windows, but I don’t feel any warmth. The sky is a cloudless blue, like a spilled bucket of paint.
Shibazaki’s daughter, Haruka stands in the doorframe, short hair combed neat and bag in one hand “Hey! My dad called to make sure you were doing fine, especially since today is…” She trails off, a guilty look replacing her smile.
I stand up to face her. “I’m fine.” I lie, forcing a smile on my face.
Those words bring the smile back to Haruka’s face, she’s relieved.
Just before she leave, she calls out “Take it easy today, Lisa!” and then the door shuts, leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts.
Now, in front of the mirror, I stare at myself, expecting something different. Same uniform, same lumpy face, the only thing that has changed is my hair, and not by much. Funny, that even though my life has changed so much in the past year alone, my appearance remains the same.
Sighing, I flop back onto my twin bed. Haruka and her grandmother let me stay here after the courts no longer legally recognized mom as my caregiver.
I clench my fists at the memory of her. “You are the only one, Lisa.” “Promise me you’ll never leave, Lisa!” and the worst, after she’d take her anger out on me. “Forgive me Lisa. I got carried away. I promise it’ll never happen again.” But it did, I grit my teeth, burying my fingers in my hair.
“You’re just in my head!” I shout into the empty room, my voice echoing off of the beige walls.
I count to 5 in an attempt to steady my breathing. It doesn’t work, I can still remember her hands on me. I try to think of something else, but the alternate is no more pleasant. The innocent afternoon that lead to a more menacing evening. I remember my hair wildly flying around my face as a result of the helicopter blades. I remember the order being given, a small sudden gasp and then – I squeeze my eyes shut, this part is always the hardest. It’s not dream because every time I remember, I can’t wake up. Its reality. I thought I finally had found a reason to live, only to have my reason gunned down. I get up, my legs shaky from the effort. I need to get out of here.
On the train, I hear the whispers. Their remarks are unlike the ones of my former classmates, only concern is to be heard here. However, I am in no mood for their pity as I dig through my pockets for my phone. I plug my headphones in and let myself be stolen by the sounds of a cold land. It helps, as I lose myself from the bustling city to a silent frontier. Life goes on around me until I reach my destination.
Steeling myself, I stand and leave the station. The second I step off the train, it’s hard to believe that I’m still in Tokyo. This is what they saw, I think to myself. My lips part, a sudden wind caresses me and the flood of memories return. Nine and Twelve are still dead and I’m still alive. Why did it have to end like this? It was hard for me to believe what had happened before my own eyes. I was there, I remember the splatter of blood and Nine’s guttural screams. Shibazaki says I did a fair amount of screaming myself once the shock died down. He’d know, he’s the one who had to take me into custody. A lot of people came to ask me about it, but I couldn’t talk about anything. For weeks, Sphinx was all anyone saw on the news. Sphinx and their little hostage, Lisa. They called me a survivor, dangerous, someone to be pitied, a terrorist. Don’t get me wrong, they called me so much more. Some even went so far as to call it Stockholm syndrome, but journalists never asked me for my side of the story. I could’ve talked. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, it was because I couldn’t. The Metropolitan Police Department had taken great measures to protect me after my testimony surfaced, and one of them was to keep me from going public. That didn’t last long though, as the Rising Peace Academy v. Japan case emerged. For the first time in my life, I’d been glad for a spotlight to be placed on me. It made it harder for people to erase me and I wanted them to remember.
I smile, extending my arm to the sun, letting it be kissed by sunlight. I thought I wouldn’t be able to talk for the rest of my life. That’s what I thought, but then I gradually got used to it, and a year passed in the blink of an eye. It was the kindness of others that brought me back to life. I walk along a bridge to where the graves are. 26 graves for 26 children who never got a chance at life and I still want to throw mine away.
There’s nothing but the sound of my footsteps as I sit down in front of the stakes and smile. “I’ve missed you guys.”
I start by telling them everything, from the day after their deaths. “You were right about Shibazaki, Nine. He’s a sharp detective, nothing gets past him.”
I unravel the details of a hospital I do community service at. That’s the sentence the judge decided on for me after my lawyer pleaded guilty on the charge of duress.
“I don’t mind the sentence, there’s a little boy there that reminds me of you, Twelve!” I continue talking, I like to believe that they can hear me wherever they are.
Most of the things I tell them are day to day details about my new life. An hour or so pass by and the loneliness starts to sink in.
“It’s a nice life and all, but I just wish I could spend it with the two of you.” I whisper, tears tiptoeing along the edge of my face. “You left me all alone here with nothing!” My lip trembles, but before I have a chance to break down, I run away from their graves.
The only sounds present are that of my heart beating and my shoes slapping the sidewalk as I try to outrun reality. I make it to the bridge, where a familiar figure approaches.
“Miss Mishima, are you done visiting their grave?” Shibazaki stands in front of me on the bridge. He must’ve just gotten off of work, for he still wears his usual work clothes.
I calm my breathing, trying to sound like I’m not on the verge of a breakdown. “Yes.”
Shibazaki holds up a bouquet of flowers, a sadness crossing his face. “I’m headed there now.”
I don’t know what to say next, so I just say “Um, thank you very much.”
After the words are out of my mouth, I realize how much I mean them. Without Shibazaki and his family and the help of everyone at the police force, Nine and Twelve may never have gotten the justice that they deserved. What’s more, I may have had to gone back to living with my mom, wishing I was dead.
“If anything happens, come talk to me anytime.” Shibazaki states it as if it were a fact.
I nod, and before I know it, I’m telling him about Nine’s last words to me. “Um, I… that time I asked…” my sentence breaks away, lost in the wind.
“Hm?” Shibazaki questions, waiting for me to continue. He had to wait a lot the first time I told him everything, so he must be used to it by now.
I take another deep breath, willing myself not to cry. “I asked Nine what he was always listening to. And he said it was music from a cold land… from Iceland.” Shibazaki’s eyes widen and but otherwise, his expression betrays nothing. I can’t lose nerve here so I push on. “And then, he said that in Icelandic, V-O-N means hope.”
Shibazaki looks up at the sky, and all he asks is “Hope?”
A realization comes crashing down on me like a tidal wave. Nine and Twelve didn’t leave me alone. “Well, see you.” I say, running down the bridge.
Shibazaki replies with “Yeah, be well.” I smile at that, I will be well.
I keep running down until I meet the edge of the town, stopping in front of the train tracks. A year ago, I was bullied, abused and left without a reason to live. Nine and Twelve came and went, they gave me nothing. At least, that’s what I thought. They gave me a chance to escape, to fly, to be reborn. I look up at the cloudless sky, tears, streaking my cheeks.
“Nine, Twelve, thank you.” I whisper as my words float in the air.
Nine and Twelve, they gave me everything. They gave me hope.