Memories

The stairs creak slightly under her feet as she makes her way towards the attic.
Not that Shizune notices at all.
The stairs up to the attic are old and rarely used. The only things up here are old boxes used for storage and family heirlooms packed away out of sight. Shizune comes up here every year, just once a year, to go through all the old things stored away and only late at night when she wouldn't be caught; she didn't need to have that argument again. Hideki didn't know she was here and of course, neither did Jigoro. Most likely he would have been furious with her for getting into Mother's things.
He left that part of his life behind a long time ago.
The key, lifted from Jigoro's room, opened the lock with some effort, stiff with age and time. The door opens revealing a low ceiling, an attic filled with boxes and a layer of dust on the floor.
It's a little shocking for Shizune to see that imprinted in the dust are a set of footprints leading to a corner piled high with stuff. The size of the shoe print makes it obvious that they were left over from her trip up here last year.
In all that time, no one has come to visit.
Hideki was too young to remember many things about their mother and Jigoro...well, of course he wouldn't come up here.

Shizune follows her footprints towards the pile of junk, taking a few boxes down from the top to clear some room. A small chest sits there, an open padlock looped carelessly over the latch. No reason to lock it year after year, no one would notice or care.

Shizune lifts the lid, the dust motes swirling around her. She gags and coughs, making muffled sounds, mostly just air. She waves her hands about, clearing her vision, taking her glasses and cleaning them on her nightshirt.

Inside the chest lays a variety of objects, the artifacts left over from a life played out and left behind, stowed away out of sight to keep their associated memories from being remembered. Kneeling on the dusty floorboards, Shizune pulls out the first object on the top of the pile, a blue yukata, long and pale, cut for a slender figure.

Shizune remembers this dress very well; Mom only wore it in summer and never very often. It was her special dress. You never would have caught her in anything but business attire, even when at home, but when Tanabata came around, Mom would get her hair done special and wear this dress for the festival. They would go to stalls and eat special foods and play games that Mom always would win. Mom always encouraged her to do her best, even in something as silly as trying to catch fish on a paper scoop. Mom was competitive, a trait Shizune is proud to share with her. Shizune remembers one year when Mom and Jiggoro got into an argument about something or other during the festival. She never learned what it was they quarreled about, but it lasted for hours because Mom refused to let him get the last word in. She was the only one who could put him in his place and she never let Jigoro forget that.

She holds the dress against, considering it, seeing how many more years it'll take before it fits properly, not that she could ever wear it with Jigoro around to say otherwise.

The dress is set aside, carefully folded on a box, up and above all the dust and Shizune reaches into the chest again, this time withdrawing a small case, covered in soft felt with gold trim. She opens the tiny latch, finding inside, nestled on a bed of creamy silk, a pair of delicate glasses, pale ivory frames with dark veins running through them. Hesitating for a moment, Shizune takes off her own glasses and puts her Mother's on.  She's surprised, but pleased to find that for the first time, they fit fairly well, resting comfortably atop her ears, snugly, but not too tight. With a self satisfied smirk, Shizune replaces them in the case and slips them into her pocket, putting her own glasses back over her eyes. She can get the prescription changed to her own later, but she'll have to remember not to wear them anywhere but at school. Jigoro would recognize them and take them back, maybe even figure out Shizune had been visiting the attic and change the locks.

Next comes an old book, battered and worn, well read and used. The faded red cover has been repaired with tape and the pale, sun faded letters on the front can barely be read, a stark coffee stain in the lower left corner. 'The Art of War' was Mom's favorite and one of the first books Shizune had read on her own.
Inside is a pale red ribbon which Shizune opens the book to. Inside, a line has been repeatedly underlined with particular care;

'In war, then, let your great object be victory, not lengthy campaigns. Thus it may be known that the leader of armies is the arbiter of the people's fate, the man on whom it depends whether the nation shall be in peace or in peril'

In careful handwriting, the ending of the phrase has been altered;

'the WOMAN on whom it depends whether the FAMILY shall be in peace or in peril'

Shizune smiles and feels pride swell in her chest seeing her Mother's precise handwriting, bold and clear and the message behind it.

The book is set aside as well, as carefully as can be.

Another book rests in the chest which Shizune pulls out. This one is in fairly good repair, only a few creases to the cover marring it's state. A how-to guide to teach and learn sign language geared towards parents and young children. Many bookmarks have been placed within, the margins of almost every page filled with writing or even small doodles of hands making various signs. Inside has been shoved an extensive amount of papers, detailing schedules and progress reports, timetables and expected goals to be met on how quickly and efficiently sign language could be learned. Mom started studying from the very moment she learned Shizune was deaf and by the time she could learn sign on her own, it was her Mother who helped teach her. There are even a few columns and notes made on Jigoro's progress learning sign.
He never finished. Not without Mom.

A few more things are gone through; a hairbrush with some strands left in the teeth, a small box of jewelry which Shizune contemplates taking, but comes to the conclusion that the pieces within are either too showy for her or too recognizable, several plaques bearing Mom's name and congratulating her on various corporate accomplishments.

At the bottom of the chest is a large binder, covered in cracked leather, faded and torn with age. Shizune carefully picks it up, gently handling the heavy tome.

Setting it on a nearby box, she carefully lifts the cover to reveal a title page, simply stating, 'Memories'.

The first few pages are old photos, some black and white, some color. Most of them are of an attractive, young woman with short hair and glasses, piercing and strong eyes behind the delicate ivory frames. She appears in various places; an office, an auditorium with a small crowd, on a street corner smiling at the camera, in a beautiful dress on some forgotten occasion. There are also a few pictures of a very young Jigoro; a picture of him fighting a tall, muscular young man who could only be Jigorro's brother, a scene of Jigorro in a familiar school uniform in front of an equally familiar gateway and a picture of Jigorro and the young woman on a date at the theater. Other pictures are of him in similar places as pictures of the young woman and several times the same place, the two together, arm in arm.

The next few pages, Jigoro and the young woman are in wedding clothes at a ceremony, posing in front of a delicately adorned arch or enjoying the presence of family and friends at a reception. One picture shows the young woman shoving a large piece of cake into Jigoro's face. The next shows him laughing, head thrown back and pointing at the young woman, an even larger piece of cake adorning her own face, her expression furious.

The next page shows the memories of a young couple, moving into their first apartment, enjoying their first few years together. Then comes the pictures of a small girl held by the woman and the man, a happy family all together. Pictures of Shizune as a baby playing on the floor with Jigoro, being rocked to sleep by her mother, a picture of her in a ridiculous cat costume which must NEVER, EVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY!

Then another baby, a small boy, paradoxically in frilly pink clothes and a Mother laughing about it, a Father looking on in disgust.

There are many other pictures of the four of them. Jigoro teaching Shizune to ride a bike, a very young Hideki caught dressed in his sister's clothes, the two children swimming in a stream, Jigoro sitting on the shore of a pond, sleeping, a fishing rod lazily held in his hands, Mom waking him up moments later with a kiss, a family picnic with them all together under the shade of a tall tree.
A car ride.
A hospital bed with the family all around.
A grave side service.
Then, nothing but blank pages.

Shizune takes her glasses off and wipes her eyes clear, furiously rubbing away at the tears threatening to form. One by one the objects are put back in their place, exactly as they had been taken out, careful caution to ensure that, in the unlikely instance someone came up here, nothing would seem amiss.

With everything away, Shizune is about to stand, but hesitates.
With a single finger, Shizune draws in the dust in front of the chest, several words left behind in the trail, alongside the faded remains of the same phrase written multiple times over the years, a salutation she is unable to give words to herself;

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.