Songs Of My Home
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The first time I saw the sun rise over my home, it was like a miracle. All of us who had been born in our village were so excited that we ran out into the streets to see what this new day would bring for us. We all wanted something different from life than just working hard and getting by on whatever food we could find at the market or farm.
It wasn’t until later that I realized how lucky we really were because not everyone got to have such an opportunity. Our village was surrounded by fields where people grew crops for their families’ survival as well as enough extra to sell if they needed more money.
The farmers worked very hard every single day but still made sure there was always something left for them to eat after work each night. They did everything right; they planted seeds carefully, watered them daily with clean water from the river nearby, and harvested only ripe fruit before any rotten ones spoiled.
Their efforts paid off since most days they came back home with plenty of fresh produce to share among themselves. Some even sold some of their harvest at the market so they wouldn’t go hungry during wintertime.
But despite doing things correctly, many villagers didn’t survive past age thirty-five due to sicknesses brought about by bad weather conditions or poor farming techniques. Many times those illnesses spread throughout entire villages which caused mass deaths.
In order to prevent these tragedies, our elders taught us how important it is to take care of ourselves and do everything possible to stay healthy.
That’s why we followed certain rules: wash hands often using soap and warm water, cover mouths while sneezing or coughing, avoid touching eyes, nose, and mouth unless absolutely necessary, don’t drink unclean water, cook meat thoroughly before eating, and never let anyone enter your house without washing his/her hands first.
These simple precautions helped keep us safe from illness and allowed us to live long lives filled with happiness.
I remember one morning when I woke up early to get ready for school. As usual, I went outside to check on my garden plot where I’d spent hours planting vegetables earlier that week. When I looked down into the soil, I noticed something strange—there wasn’t any roots growing through the ground!
This puzzled me greatly since I knew plants need nutrients from dirt in order to grow properly. After thinking about it for several minutes, I decided to dig deeper and discovered a large hole underneath. Curious, I took out my shovel and started digging. A few seconds later I found myself staring at a small wooden box buried deep beneath the earth.
Inside was an old book written in an ancient language. Since no one else lived near me, I figured this must be mine. So I grabbed the book, put it under my arm, and headed toward town to show it to my mother. She read its title aloud: “A Guide To Living Long And Happy Lives.”
Then she told me to return home immediately and write down everything inside. Once done, I should give her the paper along with the book so she can add it to our family collection. I agreed, thanked my mom, and returned home. Later that afternoon, I finished writing everything down.
Next, I gave both items to my mother who placed them next to the other books in our library. From then on, whenever someone asked her for advice on living longer lives, she would refer them to this particular guidebook.
After reading the story above, you might wonder whether it actually happened or if it was merely fiction. Well, here are some facts proving that the events described above truly occurred. First of all, I’m not lying about being able to speak multiple languages nor am I making up stories about having a special ability to foresee future happenings.
Second, my name isn’t really Taro but rather Tomo, which means “sun” in Japanese. Third, I’ve never seen another person besides my parents except once when I traveled to a distant city with my father. Fourth, I don’t know anything about my real origins since nobody knows where I come from.
Fifth, I have no idea why I possess the power to travel between worlds. Sixth, my village doesn’t exist anymore since it burned down years ago. Seventh, my parents died when I was young so I have no memories of them whatsoever. Eight, my older brother disappeared mysteriously two months after he turned twenty-one.
Nine, I haven’t spoken to him since then either. Ten, I don’t understand why my sister has become so obsessed with finding me. Eleven, I wish I could tell her that I want nothing to do with her ever again. Twelve, I hate the fact she keeps calling me over and over asking me to meet her somewhere far away.
Thirteen, I think she wants to kill me. Fourteen, I hope I’m wrong. Fifteenth, I miss my parents terribly. Sixteenth, I feel guilty for abandoning them like that. Seventeenth, I regret not staying behind to help save their lives. Eighteen, I’ll make sure to visit them soon. Nineteenth, I promise. Twentieth, I love them more than life itself. Twenty-first, I will protect their souls until the end.
***
My name is Tomo, and I’m eighteen years old. My sister, Akane, is nineteen. We’re twins born to a couple named Shizuko and Kiyoshi. Our parents were both teachers at the local elementary school, and we grew up surrounded by friends from different families as well as classmates whom we called our siblings. It was a happy childhood full of laughter and fun.
One day, however, everything changed. On May 20th, 1994, a terrible fire broke out in our village and destroyed almost every building there. The only thing left standing afterward was our house. Luckily, everyone managed to escape safely thanks to a warning sent via cell phone from a friend who lived nearby.
Unfortunately, though, my parents couldn’t run fast enough because they had been working hard in the fields all day long. They tried desperately to reach safety but ended up losing their battle against time and flames. Both of them perished before reaching the road leading to town.
In the chaos following the incident, many people lost their homes and belongings including us. However, despite these losses, most villagers still felt grateful that the tragedy hadn’t claimed anyone’s life.
That night, we were given shelter in the houses of relatives while others volunteered to build new ones for those whose dwellings were completely ruined. Everyone worked together tirelessly to rebuild what was lost in just three weeks’ time. Although this was a difficult task, we all did whatever needed to be done without complaining.
This helped ease the pain caused by such great loss and allowed us to move forward with our lives.
It wasn’t easy, though. For days after the fire, I kept seeing images of my parents burning alive in front of me. Each time, I screamed loudly and ran around in circles trying to find someone who could stop the horrible visions. But none of my neighbors came running to see what was going on.
Instead, they pretended not to notice my cries. Finally, after five straight days of suffering through this nightmare alone, I collapsed onto the ground unable to take any more. A few minutes later, I woke up in an unfamiliar room filled with bookshelves and desks.
There were also several large windows overlooking a garden outside. After taking a moment to recover from my shock, I looked around the room wondering how I’d arrived there. Then, I noticed something strange: a woman wearing glasses sitting at one of the tables staring intently at me.
She must have sensed my presence because she quickly rose to her feet and walked toward me. When she reached my side, she said, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you.”
When I asked her who she was, she replied, “You can call me Ms. Yamada. I work here as a teacher.”
She explained that she used to live next door to our family back when we were kids. Back then, she taught English at the same elementary school where our mother was employed. Since then, she continued teaching there even after becoming a high school teacher herself.
Nowadays, she teaches at the middle school right across the street from our former home. As luck would have it, she happened to pass by the house shortly after the fire started and saw smoke billowing into the sky.
Realizing that our parents might’ve been trapped inside, she immediately rushed over to try and rescue them. Sadly, though, the flames proved too much for her to handle and she barely escaped with her own life.
Fortunately, she found some students who offered to drive her home instead. By the time she got there, however, the entire neighborhood was already engulfed in flames and nobody knew if anyone else survived or not.
After hearing this story, I finally understood why no one had come to help me during my ordeal. Apparently, everyone assumed I’d either died along with my parents or simply gone missing since I never returned to class after the incident.
Even though I was technically living under another roof now, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to the place where my parents once lived. So, I decided to stay with Ms. Yamada instead. Ever since then, we’ve shared this room together.
Every morning, she wakes me up and helps me get ready for school before walking me down to the main entrance. During the lunch break, she brings me food from the cafeteria so that I don’t have to walk all the way back up to the classroom.
At the end of each day, she takes me home again and makes sure I’m safe until I fall asleep. And whenever I wake up, she always greets me warmly and asks about my day. These small gestures are very important to me. Without them, I wouldn’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore.
As far as my studies go, things aren’t quite as smooth-sailing. Whenever I start studying for exams, I suddenly become extremely tired. It doesn’t matter whether I study for two hours or four; I’ll eventually lose focus and drift off into sleep regardless of how hard I try to keep awake.
My teachers often scold me for falling asleep in class and I constantly receive failing grades on tests and papers due to poor performance. Despite all this, though, I manage to graduate from high school with decent scores and am accepted into college.
Eventually, I decided to transfer schools hoping to improve my marks somehow. Unfortunately, it’s only a short while later that I begin having these disturbing nightmares again. This time, though, I’m able to recognize their meaning instantly.
The fire is actually a symbol of my fear of losing everything—my friends, my family, my future, and most importantly, Ms. Yamada herself. In other words, I’m afraid of being abandoned by those close to me just like I was left behind by my own parents.
One night, I dream that I’m standing beside a lake surrounded by trees. All of a sudden, a huge wave appears out of nowhere and crashes against the shore. Before long, the water starts rising higher and higher until it reaches my waist. Terrified, I run away but soon realize that I won’t be able to escape on my own.
Just then, a man dressed entirely in black walks past me carrying a red umbrella. He turns his head toward me and says, “Don’t worry. You’re safe now.” Then he opens the umbrella, letting its bright crimson color shine brightly in the dark.
Finally realizing what has happened, I look around frantically trying to find someone else who could possibly save us both. But every single person I see is drowning in the waves except for this mysterious stranger. Soon enough, the waters rise above my chest and I sink beneath the surface without ever getting to thank him properly for saving me.
The next morning, I tell Ms. Yamada about my nightmare. She listens attentively as I explain the details of the dream and tells me that she also experienced something similar last year. One evening, she went outside to check on an injured bird that had fallen from its nest.
When she reached out to touch it, the little creature flew straight towards her face and landed on top of her head. Afterward, it began pecking at her hair incessantly, causing her great pain. Not wanting to hurt the animal any further, she tried to shoo it away using her hands.
However, the more forcefully she pushed, the harder the bird dug its talons into her scalp. By the time she managed to push it off, there were deep scratches all over her forehead. Unable to stand the sight of blood, Ms. Yamada ran inside and locked herself in our bedroom.
That night, however, the same thing happened all over again. Only this time, the bird didn’t land on her head. Instead, it came flying directly through the window right onto her bed. Its sharp claws tore open her pajamas and scratched her arms repeatedly.
As terrified as she was, Ms. Yamada still felt compelled to protect the helpless creature. She grabbed the bird by the neck and threw it out of the window. Once it hit the ground below, it immediately stopped moving.
“I can’t believe you’re telling me this,” Ms. Yamada replies when I finish recounting the story. Her voice sounds unusually cold. “You know full well that birds cannot survive in the wintertime. They need to migrate south with the rest of the animals if they want to live.”
“But…it wasn’t like that…” I stammer nervously. “It looked so weak and hungry. How could anyone leave such a small creature alone?”
Ms. Yamada sighs deeply before responding. “That’s exactly why we mustn’t let them suffer. If not, one day, humans will end up suffering too.”
The End