[2015- May 26]

*Eight years ago*

One thing that I could only remember at that time is the vividly memory of a blindingly white room, all I felt is an excruciating pain tearing through every fiber of my being. The room was filled with the relentless cacophony of beeping machines and the shrill voices of doctors and nurses, their faces obscured by masks and their urgency palpable.

"Stay with us, kid! We need that scalpel now!" A doctor's voice boomed, but to me, it was an indistinct, painful drone. I could barely register the clinking of surgical instruments as a nurse hurriedly retrieved them.

I lay there, helpless and vulnerable, my body seemingly disconnected from my consciousness. I tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but my voice wouldn't obey. My chest heaved with every labored breath, each one a torturous reminder of my existence.

The bed I was on jolted forward, and I could sense a flurry of activity around me. The doctors' voices merged into an agonizing symphony of desperate measures to save a life they barely understood.

As the pain surged through me, it felt as though I was being torn apart, my very essence unraveled by the relentless turmoil. My vision blurred, and the world slipped away. In those final moments of consciousness, all I longed for was for the noise to stop, for the pain to cease, and for the darkness to offer respite. And then, mercifully, my awareness faded into oblivion..

***

My eyes fluttered open to a room bathed in an eerie, sterile glow. The steady hum of medical equipment and the crisp, impersonal scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air. I was in a hospital, I know that much was clear, and I remembered clearly just how much pain I felt just before I close my eyes but how I'd arrived here and what had befallen me remained shrouded in the fog of uncertainty.

The fact that I even know that the place where I am is hospital makes me question everything, just why did I know that where I lay is bed nor the one on the wall is a clock that tells time. 

I tried to recall the events leading up to that moment, but it was as if my memories had been plucked away like delicate threads from the fabric of my mind. Panic clawed at my chest as I frantically grasped for any semblance of my past. Names, faces, places—all vanished into a void, leaving me with nothing to recall.

My heart raced, and I clutched at the sheets beneath me, my knuckles turning white. A sense of displacement washed over me, as though I'd been thrust into a life not my own. The room, the bed, my own body—all alien and unfamiliar. I shuddered as I realized that the body I inhabited was that of a child.

Questions swirled in my mind like a maelstrom. Who was I? Where were my memories? What had happened to me? Each query deepened the abyss of my confusion.

As I lay there, adrift in this sea of uncertainty, I couldn't help but wonder if I had been reborn or cast into some bewildering alternate reality. The hospital room, once a place of healing, now felt like a prison of unanswered questions, and I was its captive, grappling with the enigma of my own existence.

"You're finally awake," an old man's voice broke the eerie silence in the room, and I turned in the direction of the voice. "You finally noticed me," he said, his tone carrying a sense of serenity that contrasted sharply with the turmoil in my mind.

At first, I was terrified and confused. I didn't know who I was or where I belonged. It was a strange feeling, like I had been plunged into a courtroom, facing an interrogation when I didn't even know the charges against me. The old man's calm demeanor, in the midst of my chaotic thoughts, was both soothing and disconcerting.

He continued to ask questions, each one delivered with a sense of patience and understanding. It was as if he were guiding me through a fog, gently probing for answers without pressing too hard. The room, once a place of uncertainty, began to feel less hostile, and I found solace in his calm presence.

Finally, he asked the question that had been haunting my thoughts. "Do you remember me, son? Can't you remember your own father?"

In that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Tilting and confused, I looked into the old man's eyes, searching for any glimmer of recognition. But all I found was nothing but emptiness.

As the minutes ticked by, it became apparent that I had no answers to offer. 

"I see, so what the doctor said was right," The old man seemed to sense my inner turmoil and, in an act of understanding, sat beside me."Don't worry about anything." It was as if he recognized that I, too, was grappling with a multitude of questions, he patted my head, his hand being warm, I let him. We shared a silent moment, two souls in the quiet chaos of my rebirth.

In that stillness, a sense of trust began to form, even as the mysteries of my past remained shrouded in uncertainty. Little did I know that this man's claim of being my father was just the beginning of the enigma that now enveloped my life.

***

After my discharge from the hospital, I embarked on a journey to rediscover my identity. The old man, who claimed to be my father, was my sole companion in this bewildering quest. He was the only family I had at that time so as he said.

One day, he took me to a place that held the key to a painful truth. We stood before a weathered tombstone, the old man's face etched with a profound sadness that mirrored my own inner turmoil.

"This is where your mother rests," he said, his voice heavy with grief. "She was taken from us in a tragic car accident. It's also the reason you lost your memories, my son."

I looked at the tombstone, my heart heavy with an emptiness I couldn't fully comprehend. All I could see is a grave where a name is engraved and some numbers on it

        Sukina Satoro

   09-10-1985_03-24-2015

The realization that I had lost not only my memories but also my mother was a bitter pill to swallow. She was a stranger to me, a faceless presence in the void of my past, and so I don't know how to feel about it.

As the old man knelt by the grave, his silent tears spoke of a love that transcended time and memory.

I kneeled with him in respect, and I couldn't help but wonder about the woman who had given birth to me, the woman whose life had been tragically cut short.

Weirdly enough I wasn't exactly sad about the news that my mother had passed away, simply because I didn't have any memories of her and I didn't know exactly how to feel about it. 

2023- November 24 Afternoon

*Present*

"But to think..." I swept the dust on the tomb stone," all of it was just a lie, I've never been your son nor her, looking at the tombs stone near it, "she wasn't even my mother."

"Are you finished now?"

Rina San asked as she came near me, holding something like an urn.

She dangled it in front of me, "Now, do you see what this is?" She asked, bringing it closer to my face.

"Hey, isn't that an ashes holder of someone cremated body. Should you be playing with that thing."

"Now now, look closely, as she instructed me, pointing her hands on the jar pot, I squinted my eyes, only to see some familiar name imbedded to it.

"Care to read it.." she urged, as I was taken a back from what I'm seeing.

"Ma-matsuki Satoro."