Broken Things Can Still Be Fixed

Akiko was there again.

They only have the one.

There’s something wrong with that child.

Keiko can’t keep them.

She started bleeding in the field the other day.

So much blood.

That girl of theirs is a curse.

She destroyed her mother.

It’s better they don’t have more.

That child should have never been born.

The whispers were so loud. They always were. The adults all thought they were so quiet, so clever, keeping their voices low, facing away.

But it was deafening.

And their eyes spoke just as loud.

She was a curse.

A plague.

Hated.

“Did I break Mama?”

Haru froze on the path, his lungs constricting as he turned to watch the other members of the den while they walked along or spoke to one another. Most were going about their business, but he noticed the ones in conversation that glanced their way, their weary eyes on the little girl who held his hand.

He didn’t know what they were saying.

But there was now no question that she could hear them.

Just like her mother.

Another burden for the child to bear.

He looked down at Sakura, her long, cherry hair wild around her deep emerald eyes and smudges of dirt on her sunken cheeks.

She was perfect.

A miracle.

Even if no one else saw it that way.

He leaned over and gathered his daughter, holding her tight, attempting to protect her from the world, as he continued down the path. “Don’t listen to them,” he spoke softly in her ear. “Just because people say something doesn’t make it true. People think they’re smarter than they really are, and once they decide something they refuse to change their minds. That doesn’t make them smart. It makes them fools. Don’t you ever listen to fools.”

“It’s my fault the babies keep dying,” she whispered with tears in her eyes. “Because I broke Mama.”

They had never told her about them. But she knew, and there was no point in trying to hide it from her any longer.

“No, you didn’t. These things happen. Sometimes babies don’t make it to birth. It’s no one’s fault.”

Haru didn’t know if he spoke the truth. Of course, it wasn’t her fault, she had no control over anything. None of them did. But her birth had been traumatic with Keiko laboring for days and pushing for hours, the child’s feet being the first to greet the world. Then there was the blood that followed after her, refusing to stop, draining her mother to the brink of death as Sakura wailed for her touch and comfort. The hopelessness that constricted around him as he held his child that he could do nothing for while watching his mate slip away was a punishment he couldn’t understand why any of them deserved.

But whether it be luck or fate, the child ceased her crying, curling contently against his chest, as Keiko’s body was finally able to stop hemorrhaging and start healing. But it took months before she could get out of bed, leaving him to care for both her and Sakura on his own. There had been offers of help from the women, all of which he refused. Those refusals only furthered to ostracize them in the eyes of the den, creating more whispers, more looks.

Keiko wasn’t deaf and Haru wasn’t blind.

If what the den offered was help, then they could keep it for themselves.

They never cared for them before, why should they care now?

It didn’t matter whether or not they thought it was a man’s place. Sakura was his child and Keiko his mate, he didn’t need their assistance or approval to tend to them. And tend to them he did as Keiko recovered from her trauma, returning to her lively and spirited self, and Sakura flourished, growing larger and stronger with every passing day.

She was such a precious thing, the most beautiful baby that Haru had ever seen. Her expressions and actions so full of life and joy. Her darling coos, her big cries, her infectious giggles. Her tiny toes, her smooth skin, her sweet face.

She made life worth living.

She was love.

How could they not want another?

Keiko had no difficulties in taking on a child. Her body welcomed them quickly and almost effortlessly. A celebration of their love that they wanted to share with the world.

In the way that they had with Sakura.

But love or not, Keiko’s womb couldn’t hold them for long before they were slipping away from their mother and back unto the earth. Child after child, each one coming and going the same.

It was heartbreaking, the worst day of their lives over and over.

A perpetual encore of their shared torment and grief.

They could make it through it though.

If not for the whispers.

They tumbled into Keiko’s ears and burrowed deep into her psyche. Reminding her of her constant loss, of how she was a failure, of how she wasn’t worthy.

Despite it, she could handle the words meant for her.

But she couldn’t do the same for the ones meant for her child.

They made her insane.

Little by little, her grip on reality was slipping, every day becoming more of a struggle.

Today would be no different.

“Go on.” Haru kissed the girl’s soft, dirty cheek before setting her down on the dry, dead earth. “Go see Mama.”

The girl ran, unruly hair that was a testament to her personality whipping behind her, calling to the woman with an excitement that only a child could manage.

Keiko was in the fields again.

Digging.

For nothing.

He followed his child, ready to do the same.

They would dig, and dig, and dig, and find nothing until he could convince Keiko to go back home. Then Haru would head to the trees, moving further and further north in the hopes of finding something that he could kill to feed his family.

Sometimes he succeeded.

But mostly he failed.

He turned the soil. The same barren land he had turned over and over, never finding anything new. Never expecting to.

But he would do it.

For her.

Anything for her.

The woman he had loved since he was a boy and she was a girl who was vibrant and outspoken, always wearing her heart on her sleeve. Traits that he admired that pushed others away while only growing more and more enchanting in his eyes by the day.

But somewhere, that vibrancy had begun to fade, leaving behind an empty shell. Something that could be held and was pleasing to the eye, but everything that had made her beautiful had been shattered and pulled from her one piece at a time.

However, things that were broken could still be fixed.

Maybe they could head north? Find water. Food. He had heard from travelers that the north was faring better through the drought. That the den was in the worst of it.

He would need to convince Keiko. She had always felt beholden to the den. But the whispers had become too much for her, weakened her state of mind. If he could get her to understand that it was doing the same to their daughter, maybe he could get them out of there.

Maybe they would survive.

Haru looked at the sky, the sun far across.

He needed to go.

“Let’s try again tomorrow,” he suggested softly.

Keiko looked up, her hands buried deep in the earth. “I can provide for my child,” she snarled, staring at him but looking far beyond the man. “No one can say I can’t. There’s nothing wrong with these fields. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

How could he have let it get this far?

It was his responsibility to protect his mate, his child.

How could he have allowed the den to slowly pick them apart without doing anything about it?

How could he have been so weak?

It was a split moment decision, one that should have been made long ago, but it was better late than never.

They had to get out of here.

And they had to do it now.

“I heard there’s mushrooms further in the forest.” The lie came so easily, he hadn’t even meant to say it. It wasn’t even a good one. There was no water. How could there be mushrooms? But still, he continued, “Just outside of the territory. We could take a bag, a few things, head up there now. We’ll stay the night and find them in the morning. Then we’ll come back.”

They wouldn’t come back.

He would drag her kicking and screaming if he had to.

Her amber eyes were conflicted. “Leave the territory? We’re not supposed to.”

“It’ll just be for the night.” Haru smiled, reassuring her. “It’ll be alright. Please. Sakura’s hungry.”

Keiko looked at her daughter digging in the dirt and back at her mate. “Mushrooms?”

“Mushrooms. A whole lot of them.”

“And then we’ll be back?”

Haru went to and crouched before her. Taking her face in his hands, he gently pressed his lips to hers. Pulling back slightly, emeralds gazed into amber, convincing and demanding her trust. “Of course.”

Never.

Enough was enough.

The den could starve to death without them.

“When have I ever lied to you, Keiko?” he asked, vowing he’d never do it again.

“Okay.” Her head bobbed up and down in agreement, her voice quiet. “Okay. Just for a day.”

“Just for a day,” he lied again, standing and holding out his hand to her. “Let’s go.” He helped her up and walked to his child still digging for nothing in the dirt. His hands went under her thin arms as he heard a body hit the ground behind him.

Please don’t do this.

Not now.

“Mama?” Sakura’s voice a whisper before becoming a scream. “Mama!”

Haru turned to his mate’s convulsing body and watched his daughter dash towards her. He snatched her tiny shoulders and forced her away as quick as he could.

He couldn’t let her catch the fever.

He couldn’t let her die.

“No!” he screamed at her; his face so close to hers. “Don’t touch her!”

He felt so afraid, but it came out so angry.

The girl’s ears flattened against her head and her eyes flooded with guilt and shame that rained down her sullied cheeks, leaving dirty trails behind.

Haru knew he had made a mistake, made the girl think it was her doing. Just as everyone always did. He needed to fix this.

But he needed to fix Keiko first.

“We have to go to Akiko’s.” He scooped up the woman’s body. “Hurry!”

And he ran, listening to his child fall further and further behind.

He knew she wouldn’t keep up. He’d have to go back to get her. Then he’d explain.

He’d fix this.

He still had time.