Chizuna and Akira Shigetomi had been more religious that the average Nekonian couple, or so their son would later claim. Not that he had much evidence. His earliest memories were of grand and solemn temples surrounded by grand and solemn trees that had made him feel so small and inconsequential. The truth was that Shigetomi Hideki had little else by which to judge them.
These early memories always remained obscured and distorted by the haze of a young child's recollection Years later there would be little useful information in these vague and fleeting scenes. Much clearer were memories of fire. Hideki didn't remember how he escaped from the collapsing structure, whether he had assistance or found his own way. He only remembered being held back by concerned strangers as he strained to break free and find his parents. The only illumination that night came from the burning house, the only sounds the breaking of charred wood and the boy's own crying echoing in his ears. A neighbor took him home, but he left at first light to pace the boundaries of what had been his home only a day before. He ducked into the building, kicking aside rubble and dodging the floating cascades of ash that drifted down in the morning breeze. Here was the kitchen, and here his bedroom. Akira and Chizuna had been asleep when it happened, but mercifully their remains had beenr emoved from the building by the time Hideki arrived. Too much to ask of a six year old, pacing through the rubble of his young life.
As day opened up onto the city, it came to life again as it always did, unaffected by the small tragedies that flickered briefly in the night. Another life lost. Another orphan made. Unsure of where to go and accustomed to being directed by his parents, Hideki simply tried to find other children, other people like him who didn't want to be small and afraid either. At least this way they wouldn't be alone.
His life fell into a new rhythm, one he would later associate with long, cold nights stretched out on sidewalks to sleep, with fighting stray dogs for food in back alleys that stank of piss, both humanoid and animal.
Sometimes gangs of older kids would give him a share of their food if he and the other young ones would beg or steal to contribute. He had a vague notion that his parents wouldn't have liked it, but it was so hard being hungry and knowing he could do something about it.
He lived this way for several months before it finally became too much for him. He fell ill, and there was nothing the others could do for him. Half of them were sick themselves. A couple of the older boys took him to an orphanage in the hopes of unloading a burden on the group while keeping clear consciences.
Hideki was cared for, and when he was well enough for conversation, the owners took his name and age in the hopes of finding someone to adopt him. By that age, though, chances were slim. Babies and toddlers were easy, but Hideki was seven already. The only other children who stayed around long enough for him to get to know them were so-called problem children. For a while these were Hideki's friends, but one by one they gave up and most of them returned to the streets. They would never find families and they knew it.
Edited by: [url=http://p068.ezboard.com/brpgww60462.showUserPublicProfile?gid=kai@rpgww60462>Kai</A] at: 8/4/06 4:10