As I lay there on the slender futon covered by the quilt my grandmother had made long ago , I allowed my mind to wander back to the events of the previous night , trying to remember . But only faint indistinct images would form in my swollen mind ; flashes of color , a splash of blood , the glitter of gold held briefly in my hand . It was almost as if my mind did not wish to remember the terrible circumstances which had allowed my night to end in failure . Straining further , a face began to slowly come into a watery focus ; then with abrupt clarity , it solidified : black hair , blue eyes and that evil grin . Lazarius ! Standing before me !
I jolted upright and immediately grasped my head with both hands , like a heavy drinker suffering a hangover , as the remnants of the pain and humiliation I suffered rocked through it . Carefully , I laid my weary body back down , trying to calm the anger that sought to overcome me ; recalling all that had happened . I began to wonder , ‘ Why … why had Lazarius chosen that night to show himself ? After staying hidden these past few decades ? Keeping out of my line of sight for so long ?’ I wanted answers to these questions badly , but first and foremost , I wanted to know what had happened that I should find myself back in my own home – a place I had not returned to in almost a year – cleaned , cared for , and resting comfortably .
Quietly , the shōji door slid open along its groves in the floor ; the crisp paper pulled taut over the wood frame . The black and gold paint of the tiger and dragon design shimmered faintly in the pale moonlight flowing in through the open windows . The scent of the sakura trees in the front garden wafted in , stirred by the movement of the wind , through my room . Their delicate perfume soothed my senses . They have always had such an effect
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