A Meagre Prayer

John lives a quiet life, deep in the forest. Together with his new friend, he let out a heavy sigh...

Source: http://www.flight-plan.jp/bmoo/bs011.html

- For Humans to Become Human -

They are not born as people.
They are raised by other people into people themselves.

What is an infant, the unripe fruit of humanity?
At first, it is nothing more than a beast.

By taming that tiny beast,
the humans known as "parents"
may become human as well.

- *sigh* -

It is often said that parents raise their children, and in turn are raised into parents by their children. I never dreamed that I would experience anything of the sort, but children are living beings that betray the expectations of adults. They constantly surprise adults, both for good, and for ill. And so, in so many words, children are living beings that are a challenge for adults.

How many times have I thought these exact words? How many times have I sighed to myself? How many times have I sighed at this living being who no plan survives?

"Take me with you!"

The child's high-pitched shout, loud enough to pierce the ears, earned only a reluctant look from beneath the grey-winged angel's mask.

"Cain, this isn't a chance to play..."

"I know that!"

John felt like the wings on his back were beginning to wilt. He had been here since the morning, answering this question, and the repetition was palpable. The child's bright blue eyes were like those of a cat facing a fish, or a dog staring at its prey. Mattia, who John could rely on in times like this, was absent for the moment.

"Cain, it's time for you to go home. Mattia is making dinner and she'll be waiting for you."

"Until you tell me it's okay, John, I'm not going anywhere!"

Cain spoke in an unusually confident way. What had Cain so riled up? Beneath his mask, John's face soured as if he'd swallowed a bug.

"Good grief..."

John let out an impassive sigh and, ignoring Cain, returned to his desk. But, of course, Cain dauntlessly followed him into his study and slid onto John's desk, keeping him from writing.

"Cain!"

John snatches his bottle of ink from his desk and glares at Cain, eyes narrowed. Cain returns his gaze, looking up with resentful eyes. John isn't bothered. He thinks to himself, "this is like a cat in a bad mood with too much free time on its hands." John has never owned a cat, but even so...

"Move, Cain."

"Don't wanna."

John looked into Cain's glimmering blue eyes and chuckled, thinking, "if I reach out to him, he'll bite me." Cain's constant visits, which didn't come from either selfishness nor a desire to rebel, ended up bothering John every time.

In most cases, you could view this situation as "just how children are," but Cain's case was a bit different. Cain had no memory of his past.

Anxiety occurs initially when we cannot pin down the object of our fears. Anxiety can be eliminated by determining the true nature of our fears and overcoming them. But Cain, who has lost his memory, has no way of knowing what those fears are.

"You're going away from the island again, right? Take me with you!"

"I can't do that," John stated coldly.

Those sky-blue eyes quivered.

"Calm down, Cain. Right now, you're letting your anxiety get the better of you."

"Yeah, maybe I am... but!!"

It didn't take long for tears to well up in his burning eyes.

"But..."

John gently laid a hand upon Cain's forehead. He sighed and said, "as usual."

"You've got a fever... I'll take you home today."

Cain's eyes burned so brightly it was as if his consciousness would melt away, and he looked up at John. But, as if resisting something invisible, he did not shake his head.

It is not uncommon for anxiety to eat away at not only the mind, but also the body, especially for those who are young.

John spoke in a quiet, gentle voice. "Sleep, Cain... when you wake up, you will forget your fears and return to your normal self."

"John...?"

Cain looked up at John curiously, and John laid his pale palm over those sky-blue eyes, covering them.

"Sleep, Cain..."

As if chanting a spell, John repeats those words.

Only the ticking of the clock's hand still breaks the silence that falls upon the room.

"Sleep, Cain..."

Upon that third repetition, Cain's body collapsed and fell into John's arms, like a puppet with its strings cut.

- The Kindness Called Oblivion -

Staring at the boy cradled in his arms, John silently lowers his eyes.

As long as the underlying problem remains, Cain's fears will never truly disappear. But...

"Cain!!"

The voice of a girl, sharp and angry, cuts through John's thoughts.

"Ah, Mattia..."

The girl with the fiery hair looked relieved when she saw Cain sleeping in John's arms. But that look of relief soon broke into one of anger.

"I thought he wasn't coming back, but it turns out he was just sleeping here... I'm sorry, John."

"Ah, I don't mind..."

Mattia grabbed Cain by the shoulders and shook him roughly, taking him from John.

"Come on, Cain! Get up! We're going home!"

"Uhh..."

Cain groaned, bleary-eyed, as Mattia shook him.

"Come on, walk. We're going home together!"

Cain nodded at Mattia, but it was a mystery as to whether he was really awake or not.

"Alright, then, John," Mattia said, "good night."

"Yes. Be careful..."

Mattia smiled, grabbed Cain's hand and kept him steady as he drunkenly wobbled forward, and left John's house with him. John watched them until he could no longer see their backs, and sighed. Then he heard a deep, rising groan behind him, like the howling of a wounded beast.

"Oh, Mephisto. Those two made it home alright."

The groaning slowly grew quieter, as if his voice had been heard.

A peaceful life, almost unchanging day by day. A life like that of flowers in a planter, filled with simple happiness. But John knew. He knew that this happiness would not last forever.

"Until that day when time flows again..."

Until that day, his wings would be a shield to protect the little one.

The grey-winged angel lifted his head to the twinkling stars and prayed to a god whose name he did not know.

May this happy time heal, at least a little, the deep sorrow etched into his soul...

- END -