Never Ending Fairytale

EVEN IF THE FANTASIES OF THE OLD WORLD HAD GONE, but for Märchen, she was still waiting for that day to come. Someday, somehow, somewhere.

…And so did her father.

—o—

On a cold winter night in the middle of December, when the festive season was just right around the corner. When a family should gather behind the warmth of the fireplace, not grieve their loved one. When a family should eat together, laugh and share a story, not lurk in the dark, hiding from danger. When a family should exchange gifts with each other, not turn against each other. It was all just a sliver of memories that he held onto; at least it was how life was supposed to be before the Great Pacific War.

A bleak snow slowly fell, and a cold, chilling air drifted through the starless night; only a pale moonlight shone gently ever so slightly, cowering behind the clouds. With his hands trembling, he rubbed the falling snow against his palm. A heavy gulp swallowed down to his throat. His thoughts tumbled all over the place, but his gaze averted away from the mess he made.

“When will this be over?”

His breath panted heavily as the adrenaline rush filled him in. Falling to his knees, a subtle thud was heard as the crowbar on his hand fell into the ground. He had no idea someone got in here first nor did he have any idea that the convenience store would be empty tonight.

At least it was quick.

One dead. That was all.

One dead. That was all.

One dead. That was all.

It wasn’t the first time he killed somebody, nor would it be his last.

He inspected the body, checking every pocket and bag that the man had brought. He took off the looter’s winter jacket for a spare. In the jacket pocket, he found a photo, a fairly new wedding photo of two couples wearing their kimono dress. A man about in his early twenty, undeniably matched with the person lying motionless in front of him; the only difference was his lifeless expression he wore now.

An eerie sonder gnawed at him, wondering if he had someone waiting at home—just like him.

War really brought out the ugly side of us.

I hate it…

A pang of guilt clenched his gut but at the same time it was for his own survival, their survival. Only a matter of time if the same thing could happen to him. Both of them just happened to be unlucky at the worst time possible.

In his bag, he found a thermos bottle, filled with hot water, a sorted sachet of beverage and a can of tuna fish which was already beyond its expiration date. It wasn’t much but sufficient for now. As a final sign of respect, he buried him within the snow; it was the least he could do.

Not finding anything that he could eat, he sank onto a wooden stool on the second floor of the convenience store, staring blankly over the ruined sleepy town—besmirched by the sprawling disabled tanks.

Amidst all of that, it was a view that he had to get accustomed to everyday.

He had a fair share of doubt if his decision to leave the north was a good decision, especially for his six years old daughter, Märchen. The more southern they go, the better—at least it was what he thought.

Hope… Such a terrifying thing to believe in.

Drone shrieked through the sky every so often as if it was a crow with its ominous lullaby, singing its loudful propaganda. Go north, it said, go south, it said. Which one was the truth? They broadcasted those propagandas every day, and each day it contradicts with each other.

But tonight…

What a silent night, he thought a bit uneasy. It wasn’t often he would get this momentary peace without a drone or fighter jet buzzing to his left and right. At Least her daughter could get enough sleep from all those sleepless nights.

An indescribable feeling began to bite him. This feeling again? It was a waiting game, gnawing at him ever so slightly. The thought that he had to rely on the remaining supplies, not even able to cover a day or two of his needs, haunted him for the rest of the day.

“Damn it all!”

He sunk his hand down to his pocket and grabbed a cigarette that he found while scavenging through the convenience store. Funny, it was all that he found in the convenience store; no more than a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. As the smell of burning tobacco wafted in the air, he let out a deep sigh, trying to ease his jagged breath. A repeated beep averted his attention to the Link-Comms on his wrist.

A series of beeping in irregular patterns accompanied his ears for ten minutes straight. He frowned, attempting to decipher what it said. “I should’ve learned Morse code in school,” he muttered a bit disappointed in himself but for now all he could do was to write those codes onto his notebook. Though the information seemed rather useless for him now, who knew it would come handy someday.

If the information was intended for military personnel, why encode it in something basic as a morse code? Anyone from the adversary could easily decipher the code. And if the information was intended for civilians as an incoming warning, why was it in a morse code? Not everyone could understand morse such as him.

His attention suddenly averted to the sounds of footsteps reverberating against the steps. He could see the yellowish light coming out from the other side of the wall as a familiar face presented itself to him.

A meek child stood in front of him, donned her sleepwear, a bluish frilly nightgown and wavy twilight hair that shone ever so under the moonlight. The light from the lamp she held reflected in her weary eyes.

His eyes didn’t fool him. She always looked bright… despite everything—just like her mother.

“Papa?”

The man startled slightly. "Märchen, sweetheart?" A rather distressed expression etched on him. "W-what are you doing here? It’s too dangerous for you—”

“I couldn’t sleep!” The girl interrupted.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. She had followed him this far. Since when? At first, his thoughts jiggled about whether to send her back as it wasn’t ideal for her in this weather, but the idea was fleeting as soon as he saw her weary expression. He knew that his only daughter wanted to be comforted by him.

He stubbed his cigarette and kneeled in front of her. “Come here!” He opened his arms wide, inviting her in.

“You followed me again, didn't you?”

Instead of meeting his eyes, she averted her eyes downward, afraid that he would be angry for what she said.

“Did you see papa do something weird before?”

She suddenly looked into his eyes and shook her head hastily. “Weird? L-like what?” she replied, while her hand fidgeted with her dress.

He knew she lied.

He knew that she was aware of what he had done to the man. This was war afterall. All means were necessary for survival. Even if that took him to do some questionable things beyond his daughter’s thought about him.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Look. I won’t be mad for you to follow papa—”

“Really?” she interrupted.

“If only you ask papa first.”

“Owh… then it's really fine if I come with you next time?”

The man nodded, although a bit worried about it.

"Look at the sky, Märchen,” he said gently as he snuggled her daughter. “It's snowing, don’t you feel cold?”

“How about you, papa? Don't you feel cold too?” She retorted.

“A bit, but it's nothing because papa is a grown up.”

“Hmmph…” She crossed her arm and pouted out of annoyance. “Still, I want to be with you here and I won't go back to bed alone.”

“What about Akahiro? He might be sad that you are here.”

Her expression changed, disapproving of her father. “Well… He’s just a dog and he also snore a lot.”

The father closed his eyes and let out another sigh, softened by her voice. Where did she get this temper from? A grin tugged at his cheek. “At least let me help you." He took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“You want a hot choco, Märchen?”

She nodded vigorously. “If only you drink it too with me.”

“Well, of course, if you allow me, my princess.” He smiled and took a thermos bottle from his bag and a milk choco sachet.

“If I'm the princess, then papa is the prince?”

“Papa is not the prince.”

“Well… if not the prince, then what are you?”

“Hmm… How about the king?”

“Your Majesty!?” she gasped with her both hands over her mouth, startling upon hearing it. She bent her knees slightly, followed by one foot behind the other, mimicking what she learnt from her fairytale book.

How can my daughter be so cute? He chuckled slightly but then Märchen tagged along with him.

While he was occupied making the choco. Märchen busied herself arranging a makeshift table from the rubbles and set a tablecloth made from a rugged tarpaulin on top of it. A set of two cups, just enough for her and her father.

“Tadaa! Look at me papa!” she said. “Not too shabby, right?”

“Not too shabby.” He couldn’t help but smile a little. “Now, now the drink is ready.”

Her face brightened as soon as the hot choco drink was ready. It had been a while since she drank hot chocolate.

“Drink slowly,” the father chimed in before she could even touch her lips to the cup.

“How is it?”

“It’s sweet,” she smiled with a hint of chocolate smudge on her lips.