The large beast flew along his mother's picture first, tenderly circled her face once.
It pressed its shadowy snout against the glass of her frame the way a child pressed its face against a window.
Then the dragon-shadow turned and flew to Kenji’s brother, whom I had to admit had been quite a good-looking man. It was clear that Kenji’s family had quite the handsome DNA.
There, the dragon-shadow hovered in front of my brother-in-law's face.
And the beast grew larger.
I gasped.
Massive wings stretched outward now, wispy and trailing smoke.
The beast rose away from the pictures and hovered over us all.
I looked down at the back of Kenji's neck.
Minutes passed.
Each man took what he needed from the space.
Reo remained at his mother's picture longer than I expected. He stayed on his knees with his hands pressed together in front of his chest. His lips moved continuously. In a language I did not recognize, he was having a deep conversation with his mother and it warmed my heart.
Kaede sat cross-legged in front of his grandfather's frame and smiled sadly. I could tell he was thinking about past happy moments and sitting in them.
Toma lit his family's candles. One for every sibling he had lost, and while he did so he whispered something in the darkness.
Daisuke held Hiro who had stopped sobbing. Instead, they both leaned into each other with their eyes closed and the monks praying around them.
My mind went to the twins.
I glanced toward the curtain opening they had walked through what felt like hours ago, even though it had not been that long.
The heavy curtain swayed.
Did they leave the ballroom entirely?
Or were they somewhere by the bar sitting beside each other in silence?
Were they mad?
Sad?
I did not know, and that unknowing pressed against my ribs the way the picture of their mother must have pressed against theirs.
Hiroko, did I go too far with them?
I watched the curtain sway once more.
My biggest fear was that the twins would never process their trauma and carry her in their bones for the rest of their lives, never letting her out.
Or maybe tonight had opened a door they would walk through in their own time.
Either way. . .it wasn't my decision to force.
I'd done what I could.
I won't push them anymore tonight.
