It was just impossible for Kubo to imagine a world where his mother didn't love something. He'd learned so much about her warrior's side on his adventure, but that had been a few vivid days set against 12 years of sweet, gentle memories.
Her answer, though, relieved him. It lifted a weight from him in a way that even Wash and Dave had not been able to do, and Wash and Dave had nearly talked that weight entirely off his shoulders.
'I killed my aunt.' 'Good.' sounded so like his mother, in a way he hadn't been letting himself have the comfort of thinking.
His eye welled up again. He exhaled hugely.
"I'm just . . . so happy," he said, his words an enormous contrast to how he kept pausing to heave breaths that were nearly sobs. He wiped his eye once more, and put his hand back on his mother's arm. She was here, and he could touch her, he could hear her, and even if she faded and left her body again, as she'd done all the time he'd known her in her human form, he could take care of her until she came back.
And she would come back. She'd come back from the dead for him once, then again at Obon, but to have hoped for a third time outside of the visitations from the realm of spirits had seemed too much.
"I'm just so happy to see you - hear your voice again - it was so long, waiting after Obon, and I didn't know if they had Obon here -"
There were too many feelings, too many joys and sorrows getting in the way of his words. Too many things he wanted to say, too many things he didn't know if he'd be saying to her again, or for the first time. Now was the time for practical questions.
"Mother - what's the last thing you remember? Do you remember coming to see me with Father, at the last Obon festival?" His eye lit up a little, remembering it. "How is the spirit world? Were you and Father happy there? Is he coming here too?"
His eye welled up all over again, speaking of his father. Please, please - if he could have one of his only two wishes, why not hope for both?
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Her answer, though, relieved him. It lifted a weight from him in a way that even Wash and Dave had not been able to do, and Wash and Dave had nearly talked that weight entirely off his shoulders.
'I killed my aunt.' 'Good.' sounded so like his mother, in a way he hadn't been letting himself have the comfort of thinking.
His eye welled up again. He exhaled hugely.
"I'm just . . . so happy," he said, his words an enormous contrast to how he kept pausing to heave breaths that were nearly sobs. He wiped his eye once more, and put his hand back on his mother's arm. She was here, and he could touch her, he could hear her, and even if she faded and left her body again, as she'd done all the time he'd known her in her human form, he could take care of her until she came back.
And she would come back. She'd come back from the dead for him once, then again at Obon, but to have hoped for a third time outside of the visitations from the realm of spirits had seemed too much.
"I'm just so happy to see you - hear your voice again - it was so long, waiting after Obon, and I didn't know if they had Obon here -"
There were too many feelings, too many joys and sorrows getting in the way of his words. Too many things he wanted to say, too many things he didn't know if he'd be saying to her again, or for the first time. Now was the time for practical questions.
"Mother - what's the last thing you remember? Do you remember coming to see me with Father, at the last Obon festival?" His eye lit up a little, remembering it. "How is the spirit world? Were you and Father happy there? Is he coming here too?"
His eye welled up all over again, speaking of his father. Please, please - if he could have one of his only two wishes, why not hope for both?