If the past does not let go, then it has not passed yet

2004 January 20.... history repeats itself. - hahaha I knew that you were all the same - an arrogant tone was heard. Anger - what... but.. they c-couldn't - muffled, said a trembling childish whisper. Negation. “Believe me, this is the only way out,” amber eyes looked at her irritably and reproachfully. Humility. “Yes, we will do this together.. just please don’t leave me,” a child’s voice whispered uncertainly and pleadingly. The heavy silence was cut by a confident and gentle voice - don’t worry, I won’t leave you - Is this the right decision? - Please take them - - You need them more now - - We are very sorry that this happened - - I'm sorry, it's probably hard for you to comprehend something right now. But please accept them. – – accept my condolences – Pity – We are sorry – – I feel so sorry for you – – I sympathize at such a young age.. – The only ones who need pity are you – a child’s angry whisper escaped from gritting his teeth. People. They just pretend that they are sorry. It's just for the sake of decency. Pure politeness, which aristocrats are so filled with. They all just play a role. People are characterized by greed, for the sake of money they are ready to humiliate themselves, pretend that they are grieving, only to find loopholes to our money. If they were really sorry, they would not have left the two of us in the middle of this terrible place. If they were really sorry, they wouldn’t talk about our death for just 2 days... and they wouldn’t talk... at all.

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2007 17 October. It's 2007. again. December 3-4. Again... again... and again... I bleed my knees... I choke on my own tears... I lose my voice... I wring my hands in an attempt to calm the pain. Again... I'm drowning in darkness. So alluring, bad, but so desirable. Every time I get into it, it becomes more and more difficult for me to get out of it... but why get out of it? It grabs you, fetters your arms and legs, not giving you the slightest opportunity to move, then it strangles you until it seems to you that you are really dying, but as soon as you give up all attempts at resistance, you are seized by a feeling of euphoria. Over time, the body and mind will want more darkness... more... more... more. What greed of human nature. Like puppets, the darkness controls them. It is because of darkness that we died. But after our death, a new world opened up to me. Hope for a new life or revenge for the old one? Hope or revenge? Which of these will be a priority in my new life?

* * *

– Hot news from Japan on heroTV. 2004 January 24. A tragic day for all of Japan, the Katayama estate was engulfed in flames. A series of tragedies befell the family of heroes. Only recently the bodies of the children who became orphans were not found, due to the strong flame, only ashes remained. It has not yet been announced whether this was the carelessness of children or arson. Katayama Yoko, Katayama Isao - the children of hero number 5 and hero number 8 were in the house at the time of the fire. One of the most prestigious and ancient clans in Japan, the Katayama family remains a thing of the past from today. I pass the phone to a reporter at the scene. “Thank you Miyuki,” said a man of about 40, with gray hair on his face and a very tired look. The camera angle changed to show a rather large garden surrounded by a dark oak fence. The end of the garden was not visible, it was all due to its large vegetation; every now and then various protruding sticks of bushes and bare trunks of maples flashed by. Each individual piece of land was surrounded by a small thin knee-high fence and a stone path. The man continued at that moment: “We are in the family cemetery of the Katayama family.” The news that their family had ended was a blow for the heroes and for Japan. The Katayama are a legendary family that protected their homeland with their heroism for about 500 years. Children from an illustrious family were taught etiquette, politics and heroism from childhood. But apparently this has come to an end. 6 days ago, the last most illustrious branch of the Katayama family died forever. – the man approached a rectangular piece of land, slightly protruding above the rest. There were 5 black tombstones on it, flowers lay next to each one, and children’s toys stood near the three white ones. Nearby stood a thin maple trunk and dry branches covered with a small crust of snow, adding to the grayness of the picture. If there weren't a large number of graves here, it would have been a good park. – Katayama Masashi, hero number 5, Katayama Eiko, hero number 8 and their children Katayama Isao and twins Izamu and Yoko Katayama. Let's honor their memory with a minute of silence. the next day there was not a word about us on the news, and the next day too, and two.. three.. days later. They forgot about us as quickly and quietly as they found out that we died... - haha - the silence was cut by a quiet laugh - haha... hahahahaha - one laugh turned into hysterical laughter. “They betrayed you,” a low, quiet voice whispered in his ear. Hysteria rolled in with renewed vigor, a single tear rolled down his cheek, causing my skin to burn. - No. They're too smart for me. She ran wild... - trembling, a voice utters through tears, a grandfatherly boyish voice. Two blue eyes shine through the darkness, but they are not ordinary stars. It’s like the Milky Way, the same dark, endless and frightening stars in a young man’s eyes. – I’ll find you and you’ll never go anywhere... sister!