i do not understand why you have
loved me as you do, or why you
cared for my mother as if she were
your very own. but you did.
before she died, slipping in and
out of consciousness as she died,
in and out of time and space as
she died, she said she saw you in a
dream and you were a kami-sama,
one of the ancient deities, and
your red hair, like a lion in a
noh dance, performed for the
spirits who once ruled the earth,
and had such impeccable taste
in art as well as courage in
battle. yes, a passion such as
yours, she whispered, is not human.
it is sacred and holy. since it was
my mother who had spoken, i
could not deny her. i could not.
