The skyline roared and the black umbrellas were hurriedly opened. Soon after, rain followed.

            “Good thing we prepared these.” My Auntie Jisun said as she held me in my shoulders. “Are you feeling cold, Yuki?”

            Ironically my name means snow in Japanese, translate the entire sentence in Nippongo and it would actually sound funny. But my spirit was nowhere near giddy. Although my face was completely free of any signs of grief, mourn or sorrow, it wasn’t looking happy either. Inside I felt empty, broken but mostly confused. How am I supposed to live life now that my everything is gone?

            “No, auntie, I feel fine.” I answered otherwise. I don’t want my poor auntie to worry more about me.

            The burial went on quite peacefully. Tears were shed here and there from good friends and relatives of ours but nobody really broke into helpless weeps. I am thankful for that, I don’t want to be swept away and look pathetic in front of all these people. Not that I care about reputation, I just don’t want to look weaker than how I currently am and burden more for worrying about me. I may be orphaned now, more confused than ever and I may have lost everything but I am desperately trying to collect myself again.

            I don’t know why but not a tear escaped from my eyes that afternoon. Although my heart could hardly bare the sight of my parents’ coffins being lowered down, six feet below the ground and finally be buried to rest in eternal peace, I couldn’t bring myself to tear up. Maybe my tears already dried from all the restless crying these past weeks; maybe my eyes are too tired to squeeze them out.

            I looked up the crying skies.

            They could be crying in my place. Maybe the heavens can also feel people’s dire feelings. Maybe, just maybe, they are crying in my place because they know how weak and tired my mortal body is.

            The pits were shut and the gravestone was finally put into place. The rain stopped not a moment after and soon people slowly went away. One by one they bid me their last condolences until finally only my auntie, a few people that I don’t recognize and I, remained.

            “Thank you for coming and sending us your condolences, Doctor Zhang.” My auntie said, referring to one of those people that I didn’t recognize.

            “Don’t mention it, and again, our deepest condolences.” The said doctor answered.

            “Yuki, my dear,” my aunt called.

            “Yes.” I softly answered. I didn’t realize before that I was still staring at my parents’ grave. I finally tore my attention from it and walked till I was beside my auntie.

            “Do you remember Doctor Zhang? He was the one who examined and made sure that not a bone was in wrong place in you.” She said.

            Actually I didn’t recognize him at all. I didn’t remember seeing the face of that doctor I heard the very minute my eyes opened. And I didn’t expect that doctor to be as young as he was.

            “Zhang Yixing, Ms. Han.” He introduced himself. “My deepest condolences.”

            “Thank you, doctor.” I answered, for his sympathy and for him being my attending physician for a while back then.

            “