Taecyeon

The only place I can think of to take Yumi to and without having people surround us and recognize me is Children's Grand Park down in Gwangjin-gu neighborhood. It has a play ground and a quiet atmosphere. Plus, I'm told by good old Mrs. Carcax that Yumi doesn't go to amusement parks and the likes and prefers quiescent places such as parks.

Yumi waits for me in the living room, Junsu is still at the dorm, teaching her a few Korean words and before that, praising her style. She bows sheepishly and thanks him, not sure of what he liked anyway. Yumi is wearing another dress, this one is a light amaranth woven dress with French blue flowers sewed into it, it's long sleeved and with wide ends. On her straight dark brown hair is a beret of the same color and a ballet shoes fit perfectly on her feet. She's also wearing tights because of the short length of the garment.

"An-ny-ou-ng," I hear Junsu breaking the word down for Yumi to repeat. She does but poorly; she keeps varying the word saying words like anuyo, aneeo but finally, when she has puffed and has determinedly slapped her hands together, she cries it out loud, "Annyoung,"

"Yes!" Junsu exclaims and he claps his hands wholeheartedly. I smile to myself as I fix my collar, my reflection looks back at me and I'm slightly taken aback by what I see.

I changed, from my eyes the change seems to begin. They're more deep, my mouth's edges are skewed upwards in a smile I've never seen before and never thought I could wear, borrow even. Then I shake my head, what the heck was I doing?

Recklessly pulling a scarf around my throat, I cough subsequently and loosen it up then I move to the living room and urge Yumi, "Let's go,"

I have to admit that my sister looks like those Japanese anime characters, cute and sweet. I notice a thing I've never noted before: she's wearing rings. Three golden ones on the right hand and four on the left one, however, just one catches my eyes. It's on her right hand index finger, it's golden embellished with pink and pistachio colored roses, an engrave of a name makes my eyes narrow into slits and I take her hand unconsciously. She jerks away at first and Junsu stares at me then I assure her it's me, my mind ordering me subconsciously. It's evidently familiar, I conclude but I'm not sure where I first saw it.

The engraved name is in Japanese and I ask her to read it out loud. Yumi looks bewildered and tries to hide it for some reason, I nearly demand her to tell me and she gives in, "It's Chinatsu,"

Memories begin flooding in my mind as I remember the day when my mother and I sat on the lawn outside our house; that was the first time she told me Yumi is adopted.

…

"You're all big and strong now, Taecyeon. I'm sure you'll understand," she begins, her hand on my back, patting me lovingly.

I'm thirteen years old, my head is full of soccer, football and dancing. I love to dance and sing but I'm not too good in that field, the singing that is. I completely have no idea what Ma wants from me, whenever there was something huge to discuss, she would put earphones on Yumi's ears and let her listen to Opera; my sister is wacked but I love her.

"What's wrong, Ma?" I ask her as I throw a toy near Yumi, I know she can't see it but she might stumble on it; that would be real funny.

"There's something important that I have to tell you," I see the concern in her eyes but shrug it off, I mean what do I know? I'm just a kid. She continues, "It's about Yumi,"

I look up at her, my eyes searching her crestfallen face and know that she has no idea how to say what's on her mind. My mother has always been an open book to me, ever since Dad died, she always came to me and talked to me about how she misses him and stuff then she apologizes to me for making me remember him when I cry with her. I tug at her sleeve as her and I sit cross-legged on the green grass of our turf, "Just say it, out and clean, Ma," I hate complicated things, so I try to simplify it as possible.

She looks at me, a smile lighting her face up and she grabs my head and crush it upon her torso. My breathing gets muffled and I gently pull her away, "You're going to kill me with one of those one day," I caution her playfully.

She sighs and puts her face in her hands, "I don't know how to explain it to you. I should've told you earlier or maybe it might have been better if I told you when you're a little older…," she trails off, her thoughts lingering on her tongue.

"Is she sick?" I want her to cut to the chase, it's getting annoying and I have a basketball game down the park with my friends.

"No! Good God," she wails suddenly but shrinks back into her hands, "Yumi isn't your sister,"

Like a child, she steals a glimpse between her parted fingers but my mouth is wide open, "Like how?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"Well, she didn't come from my tummy like you did," she motions to her stomach and I forwardly ask, "She's adopted?"

Mother's features flicker to astonishment for a second then return to normal, she brushes my hair back and says, "Kids these days know everything, don't they?"

"Where are her parents?" I inquire, ignoring her comment.

She bites her lower lip and says, "They're deceased,"

I nod in acknowledgement. I always knew there was something different about Yumi. She doesn't look like us and she's genetically blind as I recall the doctor saying and none of us in the family or our ancestors is or was blind.

She pulls a ring from her jacket's pocket and shows it to me. It's round of course, a little thick in width with pink colored roses, between the scattered flowers, a symbol is carved and Ma says, "It's Japanese. Yumi is Japanese,"

I'm impressed, I always hear how Japanese people are neat and polite, plus they're usually smart. I take the ring from her and ask her, "Where did you get this? How do you know she's Japanese?"

She begins telling me about the day they adopted Yumi. Her name was given by her birth mother and her father died a long time ago, said to be before knowing that they conceived. Her mother was a sick person and she was treated at home due to her inability to move; paralysis. The birth was strenuous on both child and mother and the latter didn't make it. However, knowing that she would die, Yumi's biological mother wrote a letter and told the hospital to give it to whoever might adopt Yumi and that's how she got the ring.

The symbol is a name and my mother explains, "It's Yumi's real mother's name,"

…

"She gave it to me on my fifteenth birthday," Yumi indoctrinates me.

I nod and say, "It fits you,"

She smiles and plays with it with her other fingers, "I don't know why she called me Yumi,"

My mind searches through the mini Japanese dictionary I installed there but I can't find the meaning of her name. She doesn't say it either and I drop it, knowing that it's a sensitive case. My sister whispers to herself in Japanese and I don't manage to grasp the meaning, she talks pretty fast.

"Let's go?" I prompt, pulling her by the elbow.

She bumps her fits in the air and says, "Osu!"

Junsu laughs and advices us to take care, she waves at him and we depart from the building. However, on our way to the car where Nanba and Kanda awaited, we run into Wooyoung who asks under his breath, "Who's she?"

I mimic a slight impact sound and tell him, "My sister,"

He gazes at her, his eyes scrutinizing her and eying her carefully then he says, "She looks different,"

Yumi bows as she hears Wooyoung and says, "Hello,"

Wooyoung simply nods and continues his way back to the dorm.

…

"Sukoshi misu," Kanda exclaims when he sees Yumi and she replies, "Konbanwa,"

The three Japanese people hit off with their Japanese, leaving me muttering with myself. It frustrates me because Yumi is laughing a lot and I have no idea what they're saying. Sure there are a few words that I understand but the rest blur what I know.

We arrive at the park fifteen minutes later, the sky is already a hazy blue and stars begin to wake up from their slumber. A cool breeze is swimming in the atmosphere, hitting us every once in a while and waltzing with fallen leaves.

Yumi and I start to walk, on either sides of us are large trees that lost their leaves due to winter and now that spring is approaching, a faded color is showing the life in them. There are a few people who can be countable in the park. A couple, holding hands, a few yards away from us walking while a group of three children with an older woman who's fatigue manifest clearly on her features sitting on a bench, the kids drinking an orange liquid.

My sister shivers and she says, "It's nice in here,"

"You like it?" I'm pleased.

She nods her head and sinks her hand in the front hidden pockets in her dress. She begins humming something softly and I recognize the song. It's a lullaby Ma wrote a long time ago and made it a routine to sing it to us as we sleep.

"The doves are flying," I sing with her, a lot louder and she looks up and silences, listening to me, "High above, between the clouds,"

Her head slowly dodders and she smiles widely, "Cerulean background, heaving golden rays," she sings and I'm amazed by her lovely voice.

"Wow!" I proclaim. "I didn't know you could sing,"

She shakes her head, "I can't," finality rings in between the shaking nervous octaves of her voice. "Yet momma insisted I take piano lessons,"

"Piano? Are you any good?" I tow her to a bench and we sit. She breathes in the cold air and sniffs.

It's the beginning of March and Korea's weather usually morphs slowly into spring in this month, the opening is always colder than the final days and she starts rubbing her arm, warming herself, "Not that good. I know Do Re Mi but I haven't played in like three years, so I'm sure I forgot," folding her lower lip completely inside, she bites on it.

"That lip of yours is such a poor victim," I pull it out and extend it, she grunts in pain and I let go of it, "You should stop biting it,"

She laughs and says, "Ni-san, don't ever do that, it's icky,"

My eyebrows reach up and I scoff at her choice of words. Then instinctively, I pull her head down and mine as a group of young females pass by before us, one iPod blaring Again & Again. The music starts to dim as they walk by, not noticing us or dismissing us as yet another family or … I let my thoughts trail off, not even wanting to think of another word.

"Today could've been the best day of their lives, why are you so cruel?" Yumi complains.

We both straighten up and I have a look of displeasure on my face, my upper lip slightly slanted, "I'm not cruel. I'm avoiding rumors,"

Yumi turns her head the other way, in the direction where the flock of girls moved and I strain my neck to see her features. Suddenly, she looks back at me and her face is so close to mine that I jerk back quickly, almost falling over the bench.

She doesn't seem to sense that and asks straightforwardly, "You don't want to be seen with me?"

I shake my head violently, "It's not that," exaggerating my insistence. "Yumi, you and I don't look like each other, at all," I try to explain and she listens tentatively, "People would think … ah," it's hard for me to say the word; it sounds like blasphemy or something.

"Aha," I thank God she understood the meaning and then spreads her hands near her chin, like two wings, "You could always say I'm your sister,"

I sigh, she's right. I can always say she's my adopted sister but will they believe me? I recall the hundreds of times in almost every interview about my family, I mention Ma and Yumi's name, surely they'd understand, right?

"Don't worry about it, I'll publicize the fact that you're my sister," I tell myself and her.

We become quiet for a measurable amount of time and then Yumi sighs calmly. She holds a strand of hair and starts caressing it and quietly listens to the music mother nature is playing. The ruffling of the wind as it kisses the tree trunks, the hidden light breathing of creatures lurking in the dark between flowers and bushes. The crickets orchestra is the loudest among all sounds and Yumi moves her head from side to side, enjoying the rhythm.

"Yumi, how's Korea?"

Her features change as she deciphers my question, "It's nice. Really exciting. I can't lie and say I'm not nervous but that's normal, right?"

I nod my head, "Yeah,"

Swallowing, I start to say something but she cuts me off, "It's difficult sometimes but I promise, I'll work on adjusting,"

"You don't have to try so hard, Yumi. I understand,"

She turns her head away again and now I'm really curious to what expression has settle on her small face. She looks at the floor and then at her feet, not really seeing anything. Her nose turning red, her chin become cynical and she grits her teeth. Eyes wrapped with tears, she whispers, "I miss her," the words coming out heavy, her breathing becomes hard and it's obvious as she repeats it again, tears falling straight down to her clenched hands, "I miss her,"

I watch her first, my own eyes stinging with tears, I extend my hand over her back and push her closer to me, "Come here," I whisper back and put her head on my chest. She's shivering under my arm and begins to weep, "No," she groans and breaks free from my embrace, "I promised I wouldn't cry," her voice breaking under her forced attempt at silencing her pain.

"It's okay to cry, Yumi. She's our Ma," my voice losing its strength as well.

She opens and breathes out, "No," she whispers. "You know," she smirks at herself, "There was this one time, Momma bought this really expensive bracelet and I sort of lost it. She got real mad at me, shouting and cursing, I assume, in Korean but then when she had quieted down, she came to me and told me, 'The ladder won't break just because you're overweight,' and at that time, I didn't get it. I thought Momma was just singing a rap verse or something but then when I meditated it," she stops and looks up at the sky, brushing her tears away, "I think I understand,"

I'm puzzled, "What does it mean?"

"Assumingly," she begins, her lips forming a line as she thinks, "The ladder is our path in life and the overweight is probably, the burden or …," she trails off, contemplating, "A problem that weighs really heavy on our shoulders,"

I stare at her, inquisitive about her way of thinking. She continues, insensible to my penetrating gaze, "I guess she meant that just because there's a huge problem or pain or whatever, it shouldn't stop us from moving on," again with the lip biting, "Like," she sighs as she arduously tries to voice her thoughts, she begins using her hands to demonstrate what she's saying, "Pain and problems are endless and in order to avoid falling in a pit of misery, we should look up at the brightening sun and move on. What do you think?"

Turning her face in my direction, I smile, "I agree," nudging my head in consent.  

She grins goofily and spreads her hands in the air, parting her fingers as well, "I feel so smart," she says, sarcastically.

I laugh out loud at her stupid expression and suddenly there's a tap on my shoulder, I groan mentally and turn my head. My lips part however, and Lee Min Young smiles widely at me and throws a glance at Yumi.

"Hi," she says, looking straight to my eyes.

I stand up and slightly bow to her, "Hello,"

"What is manager Ok doing here? At this time of night?" she eyes Yumi who's clasping her hands together and lowering her face.

"Out for a walk," I laugh throatily.

Her eyes, shadowed by a thick shade of eyelashes, stare at me, "With a girlfriend?"

My eyes widen and I pull Yumi up, she stands and bows to the air. Min laughs and I can't force myself not to glare at her, sending her laughter into a shivery cough. I prompt Yumi to my side and says, "No," in English. "This is my sister,"

A look of disbelief washes over Min's face and she stares widely at the shorter girl, "This is the famous Yumi?"

Yumi looks up, baffled by Min's statement who continues, "No way. She doesn't even look like you,"

A fragile tug to my jacket urges me to introduce her formally to Min and I say, "Yumi is my adopted sister. Yumi," I turn to her, "This is Lee Min Young, from Miss A,"

I wonder if she knows Min or even listens to Miss A's music but as expected from my sister, she nods excitedly and says, "It's very nice to meet you," she bows again.

Min notices Yumi's unfocused eyes and she gazes at her, a little of skepticism relishes her face and skew upwards unconsciously. I smile at her and ask, "What are you doing here?"

She flickers her eyes at me and tilts her face, "I like it here. We're all here actually," indicating to the rest of her group and I grunt mentally, again.

"Well, we're moving on. Need to get back…," leaving the finish hanged. Suspicion is already coloring her face, why put more gasoline to an already fierce fire?

Min bows and nods in the same time. She waves goodbye, examine Yumi again, thoroughly and then leaves.

"Pft, you were tense," Yumi proclaims. "You like her?"

God! Does she not understand? "Nah, not at all,"

…

After spending half an hour in the park, we start to trudge our way out of it. I called Nanba earlier and told him that we are leaving now. As we walk, I glance at Yumi and ask her, "Yumi, do you know how you look?"

She looks up wondrously, her eyebrows knitting while a smile of mere cynicism transpires on her face, "I do wash my face and apply lotion on it every day, you know,"

I laugh idiotically and put my hand over the back of my head, "Yeah. Can you um, describe yourself?"

I think about that quote, 'curiosity kills' but I really don't care. I'm really interested in knowing how she understands things and if she really knew how mother looked like when she touched her.

"Wouldn't be easier if you just looked at me?" she scrunches her face in complete loss.

I huff at the air and she immediately begins, "Well, I have a small forehead," putting her hand on her forehead and then moves slowly to her eyebrows, "Thick eyebrows,"

"Nope, they're not," I interrupt because they aren't, "They're normal, not artificially thin nor monstrously thick like Khun's," I chuckle but she doesn't say anything seeing that she has never seen Nichkhun.

She presses her fingers on her nostrils and says, "By dose is sball?"

I chuckle and pull her hand away from her nose, "Yes, extremely small," I comment. "But it suits you,"

She smiles and then purses her lips, "These are thin,"

I nod, "You would have been prettier if they were a little puffier,"

Her face is disgusted and she sends a light blow to my stomach, "Ew, Ni-san,"

I laugh loudly and she laughs as well, "They're always pink, I think that's from your constant biting,"

She pulls her lower lip and then stretches it and leave it to smack its way back. "How's the description?"

My nod indicates the impression she left on me and I sigh and pat her head, "How about your eyes?"

She circles them with both her index fingers and she reaches the edge, "My eyes are a bit round, not like Momma's,"

"Yeah and they're gray, too,"

"Is that good?" she asks, impassively.

"They're pale and that's good,"

"You're way too erted today, Ni-san,"

My lips curl up and I wiggle my nose, "Your questions are weird,"

She laughs and continues to walk ahead of me. Spreading her arms in the air and turning in circles, "I love Korea," she proclaims loud enough to make me laugh at her childish behavior.