An Eternal Family

Light spilled in from nowhere. Creamy, green, and impossibly soft—like the kind you vaguely remember from somewhere but can never quite describe.

I stepped forward—I hadn't meant to, but the light pulled me in. And before I knew it... I was in a classroom?

"Look! Look! It's a train!" a young boy said, pointing towards a drawing he'd made.

What? Where am I?

"That's so pretty! What made you want to draw a train? All the other kids are drawing cars."

"Oh." The kid paused, thinking for a moment, as if he didn't know why he chose to draw a train. Then, his face lit up. "Actually, my family is going on a trip today!"

A.... trip?

"That sounds lovely Akio, where are you going, do you know?"

Akio?

"We're going to... E-edinbah?"

"Ohh, you mean Edinburgh that sounds great! Just to sightsee or to meet some family?"

"I think my Mum said it was to visit my Aunt and Uncle who just got... married? I'm not really sure what it means but Mum and Dad seemed happy about it."

Akio... a train... aunt and uncle....

He held up the page again, more proudly this time.

It wasn't just a child's scribble, there was real care in the lines. The train cars were neatly linked, each one trailing the next like dominoes. Inside, little figures sat with tiny faces, each one drawn carefully, like they mattered. Outside, soft green hills sloped gently toward a creamy yellow sun, half-veiled by pale blue.

The windows of the train shimmered faintly, coloured in with that same dreamy green from before.The kind of green you forget until you see it again, and it hits you like a smell from childhood.

"Look, this is me on the train! And there's my Dad and my Mum sitting around me." He smiled wide, a few of his teeth missing, the gap only adding to the charm.

A flicker of recognition hit me. That train—no, don't go.

I tried to call out. My voice was barely a whisper at first, then it rose, but it was like shouting underwater. The boy didn't turn. No one did. The classroom noises folded into a distant hum.

My hands reached out, trembling. I passed through him and through everything else, like mist slipping through someone's fingers.

Why? Why did I have to...

The edges of the classroom began to blur, softening like a fading memory. But the green light, the same creamy, gentle glow from before, clung stubbornly to the air, reluctant to let go.

"Alright everyone, it's hometime. Take your pictures home with you. Everyone line up and wait for your parents."

The children fell into place, Akio among them, moving to his usual spot, fourth in line.

"Dylan, your Dad's just over there. Jacky and Zein, come on, your sisters are waiting."

Dylan, Zein, Jacky. Names I hadn't heard in years, my closest friends back then. Seeing them so small again stirred something deep inside me. I didn't think I could feel any more nostalgic.

And then she appeared.

The green light gathered around her like a second skin, warm and familiar, as if it recognised her from afar. It wrapped softly over her shoulders, holding her close, never wanting to let go.

She wore a pale blue blouse—creased and a little damp from the summer heat—and her dark hair, usually tied up for work, hung loose against her shoulders. She looked as if she was in her twenties, maybe early thirties at most, but her eyes already had the softness of someone who carried far too much and said far too little. The kind of weariness only a mother could wear gracefully.

"Akio. How was school? Did you have fun?" She smiled, a loving maternal smile.

Japanese. So refreshing. How long has it been since I heard my mum speaking that language?

The boy collapsed onto the young lady, embracing her firmly. "School was great! I had lots and lots of fun!!"

I was right behind him, arms outstretched. I tried to hug her... but nothing. I passed through her like I wasn't even there. Maybe I wasn't.

She knelt down to fix the boy's backpack strap, her fingers moving automatically, like she'd done it a thousand times before. There was something heartbreakingly meticulous about the way she smoothed down the front of his shirt, checking for dirt, even though it didn't matter.

That kind of care was… the quiet kind. The kind you never really notice until it's gone.

She looked up again, right at me. No, at him. At us? For a moment there was a blink and a falter in her smile.

"Akio, you've grown so big now," she said.

Just who was those words meant for?

She wasn't surprised or excited to see him. Just… wistful. Like she already missed him. Like she knew what was coming. And maybe she did. Maybe I did too. Maybe that's why it hurt so much.

"Look Mum, look what I drew at school today!"

"Wow that's amazing, I think you have talent for drawing. Do you want to be an artist when you're older, Akio?"

"Hmm..." The little boy scratched his head. "I want to be a biologist like dad!"

A biologist. My dad… How could I have forgotten something like that?

"Aww, you don't want to be a doctor too, like Momma?"

And Mum was... a doctor? But why did that feel like news to me? Like the memory had been folded away somewhere I couldn't reach?

"Hmm, that's trueee." The boy paused, thinking hard. "How about I just become both, then!"

"Both?" His mother smiled, tilting her head slightly. "If it's you, Akio, I'm sure you could be more than both."

"More than a biologist and a doctor!? That would be even cooler than... Moon Knight!"

What? Who's that?

"Moon Knight?" She giggled.

"You don't remember, Momma? It's that book Dad always reads to me!"

"Moon Knight... the one who says 'When the moon is out, the world needs a hero', right?"

"Yeah, yeah, exactly! He's the coolest! He saves people, just like you momma, and he knows more science than Dad!"

She chuckled. "I'm not so sure he knows more than Dad, but yes, he does save people."

"See?"

"Okay then when you become a Doctor and a Biologist, you'll be even cooler than Moon Knight! What should your nickname be, then?"

"How about—"

The sound cut out.

Their mouths kept moving, but I couldn't hear a thing. Not a word. I tried to lip-read, but even that slipped away like mist.

Then the world changed.

But that made no sense. The walk home takes an hour. This? This was five minutes at most. How did we get here so fast?

And why… why didn't I remember any of this?

My dad. A biologist. My mum, a doctor. Moon Knight. Bedtime stories.

None of that matched what I remembered. Dad reading to me—no, reading was something I did on my own. I used books to fill the silence. To distract myself when no one came home. Right?

Right…?

I don't know anymore. Everything felt so vivid, so real. It had to have happened.

But if it did… when?

"Dad we're home!" A young voice called out.

"Oh, you're back from school," came the reply, light and warm like sunlight through leaves.

The voice startled me. Portuguese. It had been so long since I heard it spoken aloud, so casually and so beautifully. For a moment, the green light trembled, as if stirred by the sound. Then it split, curling around him in soft threads like moss winding over stone.

The man stepped into view. He was young, maybe in his early thirties, with a stubble on his chin and stars in his eyes. A pure white lab coat hung loose from his shoulders, sleeves rolled and goggles pushed up into his hair.

In front of him sat a light microscope with a delicate flower specimen perched on a glass slide nearby. His desk was chaos: books cracked open, wild sketches of animals pinned beneath petri dishes, vines curling from makeshift pots.

His passion was everywhere, but so was his exhaustion. The bags beneath his eyes told a quieter story, one of nights spent reading, experimenting and teaching.

"Papa!" The boy ran into his father's embrace jumping right onto him as he got up from his chair.

"Oof, you're getting heavy." He laughed, catching him mid-air. "When did you get so big?"

The man grinned, still carrying the rhythm of Portuguese in his voice, even as the words came out in English. It was subtle—but it stirred something inside me. Something that felt like home.

"I've been eating all my greens like you told me to!" the boy beamed.

"That's my boy." His father reached out, and for a second I forgot it wasn't meant for me. I flinched when his hand passed clean through.

"Can you teach me more biology today?" the boy asked, bouncing on the spot. "What's that? And that? And that and that—"

"Okay, okay, I get it." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Go change first. We're going out soon, remember?"

"Ah right! Look, look!" He dashed over to his mother and returned with a drawing.

"It's a picture of all of us!"

The man took the page, and then something changed. His whole posture shifted, the joking stopped and his expression softened.

"Akio, this is... incredible."

"I know, right?" his wife chimed in. "You said you've been teaching him, right?"

"I have. But I never thought he was watching so closely." He studied the image—the proportions, the detail, the care in each stroke. "He's… really gifted."

"Well." The young boy scratched his head, a huge smile creeping through. "I learned from the best!"

"Come here you," the man said, catching his son's cheeks in both hands.

"W-wah, donch doo thhhat," the boy squealed, muffled.

"You two…" the young woman said softly, shaking her head.

The green light pooled behind them, glowing a little brighter. It wrapped the room in warmth. It was the kind of quiet joy that doesn't ask to be remembered, but still is.

A beautiful family. Ours. Once.

"Go get changed quickly. I've left your outfit on your bed. Just toss your dirty school clothes in the basket, alright?"

"Okay!" the boy shouted, already halfway up the stairs. "I can't wait!" he mumbled to himself, the words trailing off into excited little hums.

As his footsteps faded, the woman let out a long, quiet sigh. The kind that stays caught in the chest until no one's watching.

The man walked over to her, his arms folding around her like he was trying to shield her from something invisible. His hand brushed her cheek, gentle but deliberate.

"Rough day? Everything okay?"

She didn't answer immediately. She didn't need to. Her body leaned into his, and the tension that had been wound so tightly in her frame began to soften.

"Same as always," she said. "The usual problems."

That expression on her face… I didn't recognise it. Was it helplessness? Regret? I'd never seen her like that. Except maybe once. A long time ago.

He held her closer. Firmer. "You know we make enough money that—"

That... what?

"Please Marino, we've talked about this."

Marino...

"But Nagisa..."

Nagisa...

"I know," she said, cutting gently through the silence. Her hands gripped his shoulders tighter, anchoring herself to him. "Just hold me. Like this."

He nodded, his voice too quiet to be called a reply.

So they stood there, the two of them wrapped around one another, holding on like they already knew what was coming.

Marino. The name was of Italian origin meaning of the sea. Odd how I'd forgotten that... forgotten it was my father's name. But now, the memories were returning.

Nagisa. A Japanese name meaning shore or water's edge. My mother's name. Unlike his, it had been passed down by her grandmother.

Marino Da Silva and Nagisa Kanmori. Even their surnames seemed to resonate.

Da Silva—of the forest, a Portuguese name. Silva, a word that echoed silver in English.

Kanmori. Both gold and forest, woven together in kanji.

A golden forest and a silver one. A man emerging from the sea and a girl waiting on the shore. Two souls linked as if by destiny.

And yet... Akio... what does my name mean again? I can't seem to remember.

The man whispered something into her ear, and her face lit up again. The weight she'd been carrying slipped off, fading in the quiet between them.

They stayed like that for a while. Or maybe it just felt that way.

Time didn't pass here. At least, not unless I looked away. The world waited for me, frozen.

And when I finally turned my head—I was in my bedroom upstairs.

The boy upstairs had no idea what either of his parents were going through. He changed clothes quickly, eager to return.

This room… it wasn't how I remembered it. No biology books. No anime posters or shelves stacked with light novels. No running shoes tucked in the corner. Just a desk, neat and plain, covered in paper.

That's right, I moved in with my aunt and uncle—this is my old room.

Drawings covered the desk. Birds mid-flight, fish gliding through coral, tangled vines, ancient ruins, icebergs cracking at their edges. When did I draw these? And when did I get this... good?

His bed was neatly made. Not by him, but by his mother. Atop the covers, a heroic knight stood sword raised.

I guess that's... Moon Knight. I must've really liked him growing up. It's a shame I don't remember him at all.

"They liked my drawing! They liked my drawing!"

The boy's voice echoed from the hallway as he scrambled into his outfit, grinning ear to ear.

My heart tightened. I had to stop him. Stop them. But how?

The boy flicked his wrist, the dirty school clothes in his hands landing squarely on top of the basket outside his room.

"I'm ready Mum, Dad!" he shouted, bouncing on his heels with anticipation.

No. Please. Not yet.

I stayed where I was, frozen. I knew this memory only moved if I allowed it to. If I never turned my head, if I never looked away… maybe this moment could last.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

My tears hit the wooden floor, soft and steady.

Why did it have to be this day? Why did I have to see this again?

I don't know how long I stood there. Minutes. Hours. Maybe days. But eventually…

My eyes shifted. The light vanished.

London, Heathrow Express.

"All passengers for C20 please begin boarding. This is the train for Edinburgh. I repeat, all passengers..."

"W-woah." The boy said in amazement. "This is my first time on a train this big. It looks super fast!"

"Yep. Trains like this can travel up to one hundred and twenty miles per hour!"

"W-Wow!! So cool!!" He beamed, then he scratched his head. "But uh, how fast is that really?"

"Well... let's put it this way. A cheetah at its fastest runs seventy miles per hour. So this train is almost twice as fast as a cheetah, while carrying hundreds of people!"

"Woah!!!! That is fast!!"

He grinned. "Yeah, it is."

"Alright, let's get on. We don't want them to leave us behind, do we?"

Stop.

"You're right! Let's go, I'll hold the bags!"

Don't go.

"Yay! My first trip to another city!"

Please... My throat tightened. Please don't.

I stepped forward and spread my arms, blocking the train door.

They looked at me. Or at least, it felt like they did.

One by one, they walked through me.

First Marino, my father. Then, my mother, Nagisa, with me skipping alongside her, hand-in-hand.

Why... why did I have to see this again? I kept my eyes open, refusing to blink at all costs. If I just held on, if I just didn't turn away, then maybe—

Fwish.

The world shifted anyway.

No.

No!

I wasn't ready.

Go back.

Please, just let me go back.

A gentle hum, the quiet clatter of wheels on rails.

"What's got you smiling like that, Akio?"

"I'm not sure, Mama. I just like this. Being with you and Dad is what makes me the happiest, even more than playing at school. That's why I'm going to be like both of you when I'm older!"

"Oh?"

"Haven't you heard? Akio said he's going to be a Doctor and a Biologist."

"Wait, both? You'll have to work really, really hard."

"Yeah I know but... I'll do it! For you two!" He beamed a smile so bright it lit up the entire train.

Ah... I can't watch. I averted my gaze looking to the right. They were there. I looked left, they were there too. Behnd, below, above—inescapable.

Drip. Drip.

Who is doing this to me...

Both of them looked up at me with warm, knowing smiles. Though they didn't say anything, I got the message, clear as day:

'You can do it.'

Except, I can't. Not without you two. So please... don't smile at me like that.

"Due to a miscommunication, we're to stop early. Do not panic, the situation will be resolved."

"A stop? All of a sudden? They never mentioned anything about this on the website."

"Well, I'm sure it'll be fine. Right, Akio?"

No... it won't be... fine.

"Of course!" the child said, smiling eagerly.

The train's gentle hum twisted, growing harsh. And then, the green light returned. But it wasn't the same.

No longer soft and warm, no longer the color of sunlit leaves or fond memories. The venom-green light pulsed low and sickly on the walls. Like a warped shadow. Like bile. Like rot.

My heart sank.

'Emergency. Conductor down. Requesting doctor assistance immediately.'

Nagisa's face turned pale. Marino caressed her face gently as she squeezed his hand.

Murmurs erupted. No one stood up, no one spoke out. The staff scrambled through multiple blocks.

"I'm very sorry everyone, but is anyone here a doctor?" The staff lady looked around, her face red and her words jumbling out in a flustered ness.

Don't get up....

"Here, here! I am a doctor!" She waved, her heart steeled for what was coming next.

The staff's relief was visible as they hurried toward her, weaving through the crowded carriage.

Nagisa stood, hesitation flickering for a split second before she straightened up. Marino's hand found hers again, squeezing reassuringly.

The boy stayed seated, pencil tapping softly against his notebook, unaware of the weight settling over the adults. They moved down the aisle, the murmur of anxious whispers following them like shadows.

From somewhere ahead, an ear-piercing screech resonated. A sound that was not quite right. Nagisa flinched. Her pace quickened. The apprentice driver was ghost-pale, his hands trembling on the controls. The conductor was slumped over, breath shallow.

And then came a voice, muffled through static, colder than ice itself:

'Brake failure detected. Collision imminent. All passengers brace for impact.'

Time fractured.

Marino spun, grabbing Nagisa and pulling her back.

The boy looked up, confusion flickering across his face.

Without a word, his parents wrapped him tightly between them, a shield made of arms and fierce love.

I could only watch.

The train lurched violently, shuddering like a wounded beast.

Glass exploded around them.

The world tilted, twisted.

Then?

Darkness. Endless, impenetrable darkness.

"M-mom?"

Don't look.

"D-dad?"

Just stay there, in their embrace.

"Is anyone—"

Suddenly, faint flickers of a green, murky light revealed two bloodied figures. The boy's eyes went wide, but there was no light left in them. He opened his mouth, a guttural scream ripping from his throat.

"Reno!?"

"What's wrong?"

"MOM! DAD!"

Silvia's arms tightened around me, her voice calm and steady. "It's okay, I'm here now. We're both here now."

"Haah... haaah... haaah... W-what..." My gasps slowed, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Mum, Dad... you're both... alive..."

"Yes we're both here, Reno. Everything's going to be okay."

I tried to speak, but only tears came. Glyffe's face hardened as he watched me cry. I don't think I'd ever cried this hard. Not since my past life.

For what felt like forever, I was crying in Silvia's embrace. Yet, at the same time, it felt like it wasn't nearly long enough.

"I-I'm sorry... I jus—"

"Don't apologise, Reno. It was just a nightmare, okay? It's alright." Silvia said understandingly.

A nightmare? Then why did it feel so real?

"We were going to talk to you about what happened in the clothing store, but that'll have to wait," Glyffe said, his voice tinged with worry.

"Can I have something to draw with?" I asked, my words thick and slow.

His eyebrows lifted, but he nodded quickly. "Draw? Sure."

He left, then returned with a pencil, some paper, and colouring pens. Silvia sat beside me; Glyffe settled into a chair nearby. I pulled out the book I'd hidden under my pillow and used it as a makeshift desk.

Stroke after stroke, my fingers remembered something long forgotten. Line by line, the ache in my chest grew, but the drawing came alive. Silvia's face was soft, understanding. Glyffe's was tight with pain. They watched silently.

"When did you learn to do this…" Glyffe's voice faltered as he took in the realism. Even I was surprised. But I kept going until everyone was there.

A warm scene of a trio sitting on a train, with a little boy on his father's lap and his mother's head resting on the father's shoulder.

"Reno, this is astonishing. I didn't know you had this talent." Silvia's voice softened. "These colours are so warm... so why do you look so sad?"

I didn't reply.

"Who are these people? It's so detailed. How do you know them?" Glyffe asked.

I couldn't reply.

"Maybe you could be an artist, Reno."

Those words echoed too closely to memories I didn't want to face.

"Does this drawing have a name?"

My lips moved, my voice still quite hoarse. "Can you... help me... name it?"

"Sure."

She paused, thinking. "How about An Eternal Family."

Tears silently rolled down my cheeks. A faint smile tugged at my lips. "Yeah… let's call it that, Mum."

"Do you want us to stay, or do you need some time alone?"

"I... need some time."

"We'll be downstairs. I got some extra gardening tools for us to use today. When you're ready, come join us for breakfast, alright?"

"Okay."

Silvia hugged me one last time before leaving the room. Glyffe got up and gently caressed my hair, hugging me too. Before he left for good, he returned with more paper and pencils.

"It's my treat." he said. "We'll always be here for you okay, Reno?"

I nodded. Then he left.

Now, it was just me and my drawing. Just me and, Marino, Akio, and Nagisa.

Holding An Eternal Family tightly to my chest, I vowed: if they could no longer walk beside me, then I'd carry them with me. And if my hands ever failed to keep them close… my heart never would.