January 1, 2016. Tokyo. Old shrine I never remembered what it was called. New Year's. 

She was standing next to the shrine's well, rubbing her hands together and exhaling her warm breath on them. She was constantly browsing through the people that walked in front of her and those that are entering the shrine. And then she caught my eye. She didn't look away, but I did. And as I turned my head to look back, she was still looking at me.

2006, I was sent to Singapore for work. I was a newbie, a five-month-old junior engineer still on probation, so I can't really conclude nor even get to a reason as to why the company I work at trusted me so much to let me work overseas and represent the company's name. Back then, I was too desperate, so I took the opportunity without giving it much thought. I was forced to leave my sister behind for I thought Singapore would guarantee the best for the both of us. We were both orphaned and we never had the chance to know our biological parents. We were adopted by an old, unmarried lady who had always wanted the presence of children inside her lonely home. She lived off of her monthly pension. Her service to the government earned her a good return and because maybe she thought about dying prosperous but in sorrowful solitary, she wanted her wealth spent to good use so she let us in. She passed away when I was already in high school and my little sister in first grade, we got to keep the house and she left us her savings from her bank account. Many of her relatives were opposed to giving us all of her money, so we were left with half of it. It lasted us for a year and a half, after that, I quit school and worked full time at a grocery store. Thankfully enough, I was able to get us by, I was able to provide for her, let her continue attending school and was able to feed her three meals a day. I always made sure I was there for her, I supported her love for music, worked overtime for days to be able to get her at least a second-hand violin, I attended her recitals, I was always present during her school's family day, I wanted her to feel somehow complete even if she never was and never will. I was never a religious person but she was. She would always close her eyes, put her hands together and prayed before going to sleep. She would say all her wishes out loud and would thank him for every wish she had in the past that he granted.

To you, up there, above the clouds, beyond the stars and planets, watching over me and my brother, is my grandma doing well up there? I hope she is. It's her birthday today and my brother and I visited her. She's having cake up there, isn't she? Cakes make her happy, I wish she had cake. Please tell her, happy birthday. I was able to play with clay today, my brother can't buy me one yet, he said it's not money day, but my classmate lent me a small piece of her clay so I was happy. Even if it was little, thank you for the clay. 

I asked for an advanced pay the next day after hearing her prayer. Maybe he wanted me to be awake next to her when she said her prayers, somehow telling me to buy her one in behalf of him, so I did. I went home that day, excited to give her the clays and be creative with it, only to find out our house was robbed and they left my little sister who just got home from school, violated. I stood in front of her motionless, bruised body. She was seven years old. How could they? I held her carefully in my arms with tears trickling down my cheeks. She was so fragile, it felt like every touch I make on her delicate skin was crushing her on the inside. She groaned a little bit, but she managed to talk.

"Welcome home." She said with the softest yet the loudest voice she could make. "I tried to protect our home, big brother, I really did." 

I couldn't even speak. I couldn't even tell her she didn't need to protect anything but herself. I couldn't stop crying, she didn't deserve any of these. I tried so hard to make her close to being whole, and now they made it more impossible for me to even try. She was holding a knife. Her hands were red, she must've held it tight, tight enough to leave red marks and bruises on her palms. I couldn't imagine the terror, the fear she felt when she resorted to holding a knife to protect our home against terrible men she's not familiar with. I couldn't imagine the pain she had when she was h