3.1416

[yuna]

Autobiography
By Yuna Py

Forward
The majority of those who read this, will only know me as a friend of Edda Fujiwara's. Perhaps even just a insignificant pawn in her life, I am unsure. I do believe no one has ever stopped to think I was ever hiding anything, or that I had ever any bizarre occurrences in my years at all.

While I was an adolescent, my parents traveled a lot. To this day, I have no idea if there was an actual reason for this. Either I don't remember, or I never knew. They had sort of a bohemian lifestyle. They were vagabonds, constantly shifting, with a small group of acquaintances. None of them sought after any sort of ties. I always felt a little out of place, I was the only child, and as soon as I was tall enough, I was in charge of preparing meals for everyone. Looking back now, I can see there's no way my mother's pregnancy was intended.

I always had mixed feelings about their way of life. I loved seeing so many places, however, when I felt myself growing accustomed to one town, the packing would begin without delay. I wanted to remember all the places I'd seen, so I started a journal dedicated strictly to cities I'd visited. I also sketched things I enjoyed. That book will always be one of the few possessions of mine I cherish the most. It ends abruptly at the age of twelve, which is no coincidence that's where my real story begins.

Part One
Shortly following my twelve birthday, we traveled to a cluster of islands. It was mid July and the weather was warm. I distinctly remember the sweet scent in the air and the blossom covered paths, as we arrived. The place was stunning. The buildings had arching roofs and beautifully detailed wooden walls. Citizens walked softly all over the town, active in their day-to-day lives. They dressed in long beautiful sweeping robes with intricate designs. I had never seen such clothing, it fit closely and seemed to wrap around their bodies. Many of the men wore lengthy, light jackets that did the same, and paired them with funny puffy pants. There seemed to be very few of them that did not tie it all together with some kind of large fabric around the waist. Many of them wore interesting sandals or soft shoes that at first appeared to be socks.

As always, we set off to find a place to set up camp. We first landed on an island called Makoto-Jima, but soon made our way to one called Homare-Jima. I assumed these must be the Jima Islands, but to my surprise learned they were called Tokuno. Once we found the right spot and they began setting things up, I slipped away to get another peek of Makoto. The town was intriguing to me, and I could concentrate on nothing else other than to go discover as much as I possibly could about it.

There were very little sounds in the city, with the exception of work being done in the backs of shops. I could hear the faint clang of a blacksmith pounding on an anvil. As I passed multiple shops along the streets, inside the doorways I could hear conversations in a language that was very foreign to me. Great, amusing indigo cranes seemed to dance along the streets. I specifically remember finding a particularly large cherry blossom tree and sitting to rest my back against it; so I could take out my book and sketch one of the cranes.

After I had put my book safely in my pack, I realized a small group of people my age had gathered nearby. It seemed to be a popular location, right in the middle of town. However, the whispers I could overhear from them were quite different than the voices from the shops. They were hushed, followed by darty eyes, and oddly enough, in English. My attention was caught. I didn't necessarily want to eavesdrop, but being a curious twelve year old, I couldn't help but lean a bit in their direction, hoping to catch some of their conversation. It seemed to be four boys and two girls, one of the boys in the middle of a very involved story. Once he finished they all burst out laughing and one of the girls and all the boys nodded to the remaining girl and set off.

The lingering girl straightened her navy jacket and flicked her dark brown ponytail over her shoulder, and started to walk in my direction. I was sure she hadn't noticed me and was sure she'd just keep passing by. To my surprise, when she was all the way past me and looked as if she were going to continue down the road, she did a sort of half spin and landed backwards on the patch of grass next to me. I still remember how strange I thought she was. She flicked her ponytail over the other shoulder this time, and extended her small hand to me and quietly introduced herself. That was the day I met Edda. That night I sketched at least 10 pictures of her in my book.

[yuna]

Part Two
Every morning after breakfast, I began setting out to Zento, hoping to catch another glimpse of Edda and her friends. They fascinated me. Kind of a sneaky bunch, always keeping to their group, and always disappearing in a blink. They seemed to fear nothing, and act as if they owned the town.
One morning, after nearly a week of studying this group, something unusual occurred. A purple haired elf appeared in town and ran over to Edda and her friends. Edda whispered something to the elf girl and her eyes immediately scanned the town, landing on me and nodding. I was instantly afraid that they had seen me watching them, and that perhaps they weren't pleased about it. To my horror, Moreta started walking towards me. Out of instinct, I flipped the page in my book to something that wasn't Edda or her friends. I landed on the crane picture and pretended to be adding the shading that was already there.
She stood over me and I looked up at her. I couldn't tell how old she was, but she was very small. I had been told my life I was tiny for my age, but even I was taller than her. She was light on her feet and graceful. Her long purple braid flowed all the way down to the very bottom of her back. I was amused to see a lotus tucked behind her ear, and a long purple skirt that matched her hair. After a few minutes of studying her blueish yellow eyes, she finally said hello to me. She asked to sit with me in the grass and I nodded a yes. Very quietly and gently, she placed herself near me and sat indian style. We sat very quietly. I continued to draw, but turned to a new page and began drawing her. She kept asking questions here and there, and trying to peek over at my book. Once the sketching was done, I wrote Moreta, the name she told me, under it in the fanciest letters I could do, and turned it to show her. She giggled and clapped with joy. This made me blush and look back down to a fresh page.
We sat together for a long time. Occasionally speaking, and sometimes even laughing. I told her how instantly I had fallen in love with Zento, and did not want to leave. Before I knew it, we had chattered until lunch time and I had to run, my parents would be angry if I wasn't there to prepare them food to eat. But I promised her I would be back, and when I did return, she brought me to her house to meet her family. She had a mother, father, twin sister, and a little brother. And to my surprise Edda was also in the care of her parents.
No one had really ever paid this much attention to me, and I felt compelled to repay them somehow. The only way I knew how to do this was to cook for them. So I offered to make them an early supper, before I had to leave to make one for my own parents. They enjoyed every bite, and before they had even digested, the dishes were clean and put away. It wasn't very long before they offered me a place to stay in their home. Moreta explained to me that it wasn't unusual for her parents to take in homeless children. Edda had been orphaned as a baby, and they had taken her in and began raising her as one of their own. Desperate for a permanent home, and a way to stay close to Zento, I accepted.