The Tale of a Century \\ SoraMafu

>> Forty Three <<

It was then when Soraru made a mistake. Being the one other person to know Mafumafu's story was a heavy weight on a nine year old, so to give himself some relief, he confided in his other closest friend at the time besides Mafumafu.

His name was Hashiyan.

After hearing it all from Soraru, Hashiyan told him it would be best to tell the poor boy. Soraru refused.

"Hmm..." Hashiyan hummed. "Why don't you take me to meet him sometime?"

"Never. You're not telling him anything."

"Come on, Soraru. If I were you, I would tell him. The earlier the better right?"

"No."

"At least tell him when he gets older, or I'll find him, and I will."

Soraru stood up, "Not a chance. Don't get near him. I'll push you away myself if I have to. And in the case, you do tell him, I'll get rid of you with my own hands if I have to."

"... You're really serious about him, aren't you?"

Soraru only glared.

|*|*|

"It's my last day," Soraru said, entering Mafumafu's room. "I brought this. Thought it was fitting."

Soraru held up a book titled The Tale of a Century. "I'll read it to you."

And so he read about an angel and her prince. Mafumafu listened to every word, finding comfort in Soraru's smooth voice.

As Soraru closed the book, Mafumafu asked, "Do you think we'll be like that? I want to marry Soraru-kun."

Soraru smiled sadly and brought their foreheads together. "Mafumafu, two boys can't marry, but just remember that I love you."

Those words that Mafumafu had taken comfort in seemed forgotten along with everything else.

He never saw Soraru again after that day.

|*|*|

Years passed after that, and Mafumafu's memory of Soraru faded until he could not even remember his name. Let alone his face.

It was like all memory of that boy from years before was erased. As if it was willed away by someone else.

The winter after Mafumafu had turned eleven, the old man fell ill. On his death bed, he handed Mafumafu the half picture. "What is this?" the boy asked, studying the image. It was him, and the background seemed to be a tree. The other half of it was missing.

"Find the boy with the other half of the picture. He will be able to tell you about your parents. Your real parents," the old man wheezed.

"But how do I know where to look?"

"I do not know where he is now, but I am sure than when he sees you, he will welcome you with open arms." The old man slowly closed his eyes.

"Wait...!" Mafumafu could only watch as his only caretaker since he was a child passed. He couldn't even feel sad. It was something more than just grief.

He found out not long after that the old man had arranged for him to go to an orphanage. And there, he focused on the picture. No one wanted to adopt someone as old as him, anyway.

Mafumafu had never really dwelled on the thought of his birth parents before this. Now he was curious, but had settled on the idea that he would probably never find the boy with the other half.

Just like that, the years passed. Mafumafu was getting older and older, and his chances of getting adopted were decreasing. That's what he thought, until on a cold winter day, a family wanted him.