The wind stirred the tree limbs as I walked under them. A suddenly cold, lonely wind. The further I walked away, the more I drew my coat around myself. Wanting to feel him again, my face showing my sadness, but not hiding it anymore.

He'd called me last night, desperate. Somehow calm, but the disturbance in his voice. I'd come as fast as I could, for him. Not for them. 

Seeing them there. That woman, beaten and bloody. It was hard not to feel anything for her. I did sympathize, trying my best to make her feel beautiful. It's what Gyeong-Wan had asked me to do. Explaining what she'd been through, and the boys. Yet, somehow there was only numbness. Her face, though crying and maybe innocent. But, still somehow she'd fostered that hate in those boys. By her actions. She'd claimed that she had no part in it, that she loved us. Wanted to teach them love. But, she hadn't yet. That part I could not trust.

How had she not taught them love? 

But, this numbness had other uses. A yearning, someone more important. Seeing that family off today, a feeling that it was over. Holding Gyeong-Wan, seeing the relief on his face. Smiling at him, to assure him that it had helped me, too. It had not. I wanted him to feel better. This small lie between us. Maybe it was okay. If it helped him, was it okay?

Rolling my train case toward French Cup. I wouldn't go inside. Passing it wouldn't cause me to feel better. There was no resolution. This strange unfeelingness. Seeing those boys again. Knowing what they did. Them going away, back home. These conclusions I'd come to yesterday, sitting uncomfortably inside. 

The parents were at fault. Making up that woman, choosing the best colors for her. Trying to help Gyeong-Wan. She hadn't taught her boys love. There was no "somehow" in their crimes. She'd promised to teach them love "from now on". That's what I'd gathered from what she'd said. It wasn't good enough. They'd already hurt so many people. That woman with the burns, would she recover? Would anyone? 

Most of all...

I stayed across the street. Going past the park and observing the bench and the bare trees. Avoiding looking at French Cup. Trying to think of anything else. Circling the block, going with purpose.

This numbness had other uses. I knew where I was going.

There was a small incline at the end of the block. My train case was heavy, dragging on it. It was worth it to go this way. I couldn't go past the hotel again, backtracking my steps. Gyeong-Wan might still be there, and I didn't want him to see me going here. It was obvious he'd felt better after we'd helped that family. From what I'd heard and then seen in their room, it had been horrific. Those boys and that woman had been through a lot, but so had we. That didn't negate their crimes.

As I rounded the corner, I was now on my way. This exact path. A third more and I'd be in front of Charlotte's theater. Then, halfway I'd be next to Ayane's shop. A bit further, and there...

My wheels were going slow on my train case. Acting as if I were being careful. But, there wasn't a reason to be careful. I'd be throwing away any makeup I'd used on that woman. I didn't want these reminders. So much of it had been brand new and expensive. Only the best for my face, but now it would be gone. 

I just wanted Gyeong-Wan's assurance. His arms again. Trying to get me to believe that there'd been a resolution. Someone was going to jail, but did that mean anything? Strangely, having tried to find the culprit with Nikki and everyone... That determination to find them. As I went along up the street, I found it didn't matter to me that we knew. That someone was sitting in jail. We were still left with what had happened. It wasn't fixed by that person being in jail. 

As I stopped in front of this most familiar place, the numbness descended like lace all over my body. Seeing out of that lace as if blocked a little, an unseeing face. Half knowing what I'd find, this dread that had already been there, but some strange hope. 

The window of Yuko's shop was empty. No sweet creatures greeting me cheerfully. No sample of her wares. It had only been a few days, so maybe she wasn't out of the hospital yet. But, as I watched, the most unreal of things popped up.

Without hesitation, my hand was on the little doorknob. Swinging open the door. It wasn't even locked. 

Behind the counter, a woman with a bobbed haircut was now cleaning, having come up from behind the counter as I'd watched. Scrubbing the counter with a rag, spraying more solution and scrubbing some more. She didn't even look up as I entered. She was younger, but maybe a bit older than me. She was plump and healthy looking, the opposite of who I'd hoped to find. And yet, as I studied her face, I saw similarities. An eerieness.

"Hello?" I asked, rolling my train case inside. 

She finally looked at me, and that face... There was little doubt. I breathed in, the veil of numbness getting thicker as she stared at me. A smile came upon her cheeks, but I couldn't return it. 

"Are you a customer?" She asked brightly. She stopped scrubbing. The smells of the shop still lingered, but faintly. The sugar and rice. It must have been in the very wood itself, and she was scrubbing it away...

"Um...no. A friend."

My hands immediately started tugging at my coat. Nervousness just like any other nervousness, but this situation...

"A friend? Oh my."

"Yes. Um, I've known her for about ten years. Um..."

Wanting to ask that question. I came here to find out. Hoping this numbness would help me find out the truth, but it wasn't helping at all. Seeing this person here, maybe I already knew it. But, I didn't want to. Now that I was here, it had been a mistake. 

Had I really expected to find Yuko across the counter like usual? What had I expected to find? That she'd make a sugar creature for me like always, excited to do so? The image of her in French Cup, staring at nothing. Her slow blinks, not seeing me. Not responding as I called her name. The firefighter saying she was in the early stages of shock, considering her age together.

"What is your name?" The person asked, coming out from around the counter now. Oh, I didn't want her to. It was too much that she was talking to me.

"Ka- Kazuya. Um, I think this was a mistake. I think-"

"Kazuya? Ohh. She talks about you."

"D- does she? Is she talking?"

Not able to look up to see this kind person's face. Because, that face... This was a relative of Yuko's. They had the same sorts of features, but this person's face was harsher. More defined. Yuko's were more rounded, a delicateness there. But, maybe that delicateness was from her age. Her age...

"Please come sit down." The wooden gate of the counter creaked open. Those two seats Yuko and I sat on, as I sat with her for hours hearing her stories. Her smiles as she told me funny ones, all the children she'd seen over the years. "It's okay," this person said. "You can come back here. Did she let you back here?"

I nodded, still staring at the floor. This old, dark wood. Loving it, loving this shop. All of the displays were empty. Like it was abandoned.

"Come, come. It's okay. Let's talk."

I didn't want to. "O-okay. Um, is she okay?" Why was I asking this? I didn't want to know the answer. This bliss I was in, not knowing. I didn't want it to be broken. Why had I come here? What kind of courage did I have?

She let out a long sigh. My hands tugged my coat, not caring if she saw. Unable to look up, because her face might reveal the answer that I didn't want to know. 

"Yes. Yes, she's okay. She's still in the hospital, but she should recover fine. She'll be weaker, but we're making a plan."

Oh. "Um, I'd rather stay here. If that's okay." Needing to say something. I couldn't move. What she was saying... What kind of plan? What was she saying?

"That's fine. Wherever you're comfortable. I know my great-uncle's policy that nobody came back here for sanitary reasons. He was really big on that. He wouldn't even let me back here. Now I'm finally back here. How weird it is."

This caused me to peer up at her. This longing in her voice. She gave another sigh, staring down at the dark wood of the counter. With the absence of brightly colored sweets, the shop was just dark. How much it had needed those colors to shine. I was only realizing it now. Trying to imagine so much that Yuko was standing in her place, a tray of fresh candies on that dark counter. Trying to tell me a story. Trying to bargain with me. Oh, they'll never sell for that much. You're crazy. 

"I can't believe this. My mother kept saying the neighborhood was getting dangerous. But, I refused to believe it. I spent my childhood here. I lived just around the corner in an apartment. Went to school nearby. I'd walk these same streets every day. How could it be dangerous? I refuse to believe it. And yet, that shop got bombed... We saw it on the news in the hospital. What the reporters were saying, that it was a hate crime? How can that happen in this neighborhood? It's the same building where I used to get piano lessons. It used to be a little music store. I went there practically every day after school. How can it be that same building? And for my great-aunt to get hurt in there... I can't... I just can't believe it."

My mouth was open. Hearing this. Referring to French Cup as a building. I'd had no idea that it had been a music store before. And it was obvious to me that she had no idea who I was. She knew my name, but she didn't know French Cup was mine.

To hear about it this way. From a third party, describing their independent grief with it. I'd had no idea. No words to say. Frozen on the spot, watching her react to her own out loud thoughts. She shook her head again. She glanced at me, picking up the rag again. She knelt down behind the counter and water splashed. The rag plopped onto the counter wetly and she began swiping it back and forth. 

"It's so strange how neighborhoods change, isn't it?" She asked, not looking at me, maybe still in her own thoughts. Trying to make a conversation, but I couldn't find a single word. "When I was a kid, there were kids all over the place. My friend lived in the same apartment complex as me. Me and a whole bunch of kids would walk to school together. Then, we'd come back and come to my great-uncle and great-aunt's shop. We'd practically ransack the place. We'd pay of course, but there'd be nothing left after us. My great-aunt said that was her favorite part of the day. We'd take anything that hadn't sold, we didn't care what it was. My great-uncle was glad that there wasn't waste. He'd even encourage us to take more than we could possibly eat. Those were the days. Now, there's not even one place that I recognize. Even the movie theater is strange. It used to show two different movies per day, and we'd go there after school, too. We'd watch the afternoon showing of whatever was playing. It was always kid friendly, that afternoon showing. It might be a movie that had been in theaters for a while, but it was cheap to go. Now, I have no idea what's showing and I couldn't tell you. I heard they show art cinema now, and that's okay. I don't have a problem with it, but how opposite of how the neighborhood was. I heard there's even a porn shop around the corner! Apparently it's been there for years, but I wouldn't feel good raising my kids in this neighborhood. Maybe that's why there's no kids? But, I also heard the neighborhood has a lot of gay people now. They don't have a lot of kids, do they? It's not their fault. I'm sure a lot of them want kids. But... I guess my point is, I don't see how my great-aunt could be happy here without kids running around."

I'd resumed staring at my shoes. Some kind of shame veiling over the numbness. This unplaceable feeling, at her words about our neighborhood. 

The sound of the rag on the wood, really getting in there. Removing those familiar smells. Would she clean the whole place? Would those smells disappear forever...

"She'll be much happier living with me. I have twin girls. They're eight years old. They'll appreciate her. They're old enough. A lot of kids these days like more western sweets, but my family tries to stay traditional given my great-uncle's mastery of wagashi. It used to be my family's trade, but they've moved on to other things. I kind of hope she'll teach my girls, but I just want her to be comfortable. If she wants to keep making wagashi, she can make it for them. They'll love it. I know she will, too. It's a good place for her, really. I think she belongs there... It's kind of lonely here. Ever since my great-uncle died, we've been trying to get her to come live with the rest of the family. We worry about her traveling there, but once we get her there she will be comfortable. My husband bought her a bed today. We're rearranging the house, trying to make it as comfortable as possible for her. My girls are excited. They've never met her, but I'm sure she'll love them instantly. She always showed me such... Well, she..." 

She stopped speaking, but I didn't dare look up. If I did, she might see my shameful tears. 

She cleared her throat, the rag still scratching on the wood. "She'll be appreciated in my home. I think it's the best place for her."

My shoelaces were an ombre red to pink. The Converse were pink, sakura patterns on the sides. The perfect shoes for spring. Studying them, so I didn't have to look at her or really hear her. This wetness in my throat as I tried to hold my tears. 

"Um.." My throat was clicking. Betraying me. Too much wetness. "Um... Yes, that is the best place for her... I agree..." Completely devoid of emotion. Hoping I didn't betray myself too much.

"Yes. We decided that the night it happened. When we first saw her. A lot of the family is with her now. We haven't seen her in so long. She needs us now. My uncle reported to us that the last time he saw her, she tried to go outside with a coat on. It was the middle of summer. So, we think she needs more help anyway. Really, we just want to take her home. We don't know how much she'll remember soon... It might be the first stage of dementia. That's what we're worried about."

"Oh..." Needing to say this thing. Wanting to help her. Even though this destruction... "Yes, I've been helping her, too. She tries to go outside wearing inappropriate clothes a lot. A summer dress, even though it's winter." This memory. Gyeong-Wan having given her his jacket. Her bare legs, that short dress. Hadn't she been freezing? But these thoughts were threatening my veil. I needed to keep this numbness for a little longer. Until I could get out of here.

"My goodness, that is very good to know. I'll tell them as soon as I get back. I was told to come here to pack up and clean. It shouldn't take more than a few hours. Thank you so much for telling me. Thank you, thank you."

"Um, absolutely." I gave her a deep bow, holding my position. I had to... I couldn't stay here anymore. Couldn't look at her. This nice woman. Yuko's great-niece. That's who she must be, from what she'd just told me. She had twin girls. Two little girls, who Yuko could give wagashi to every day if she wanted. What she was saying... It did sound like a great place for her. She'd be happy there. But my reality... Our reality... "Um, I have to go now. Thank you so much. Um... Tell her that I care about her and am thinking about her." Such rigid responses. Not what I wanted to say, but if I said what I wanted to say then I'd be a mess. Unable to speak, if I said what I wanted to say. 

"Of course! I'll tell her. Thank you so much for being her friend."

The finality of that last sentence. 

I swung my train case around with a clatter. Going for the door, the cold air outside. I found I was so hot. Wanting to take off my coat. It wasn't nearly hot enough in here to cause that. This reaction in me...

Without saying another word, I swung open the door. And as I stepped over that familiar threshold into the coldness of outside, my hand went to my face. My throat jumped up and down, holding it in until I was clear of Yuko's shop. Letting out a small, suppressed sob. My voice traveling too loud, not wanting her great-niece to hear. 

Because, I'd stepped over that threshold for the last time. Holding my face, not caring where I was going. Going in the wrong direction. My sobs coming out, unable to control them. Not wanting anyone to see me, but being so far from home.