WA 2 draft 2

Arashi sat on his bed. The wooly blanket underneath his uncovered hands itched and felt much too rough to ever sleep on. And yet night after night he felt comfort under these coarse layers of fabric. The light was too bright. It was too warm. He knew he was being hypersensitive, but today was the ninth anniversary of the day his father, Jacen, had not come back from war. In the pockmarked off-white wall he saw his father's dancing hazel eyes. His voice, Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, little Arashi. You'll be a man soon enough.

Yeah, well, too late for that, Dad, he thought bitterly, feeling the stubble on his chin - he had quit shaving a month ago. He lay on his back and squinted at the window. The weather had been unfailingly cheery all week - an ironic counterpart to his grim mood. There was a stained-glass boat dangling in the window. His father had taught him how to sail a fishing vessel before he died. He had stuck with the hobby even after he and Tora, his cousin, had left their home country to settle in the Land of Fire.

The door creaked open. Only one person came into his room without knocking.

"Tora?"

He listened to her shut the door and come over to his bed, blocking the sparkly sunlight. Her face was concerned.

He sat up and regarded his cousin. Her shaggy black hair - almost identical in texture to his - framed her dark golden face and fell in an unruly ponytail down her back. She had a slightly more angular jawbone than him, a narrower nose, and darker skin. Arashi touched the indent of his nose and brow. "Look." He reached over to the table and picked up a necklace. It was made from a cord of leather that was strung through two wolves' teeth. He slipped it on. "This was my dad's."

Tora nodded mutely. Sometimes she could say more with her silences than by talking.

"Why did he tell me it was going to be okay?" Arashi whispered, mostly to himself. "It wasn't. It's not. He's dead." His voice cracked painfully on the last syllable. "I hate him. I hate him."

"He didn't want you to worry," ventured Tora softly. Arashi felt the familiar anger that her father - Mano - had survived, and his hadn't boiling in him.

"Well, that's easy for you to say, isn't it?" he spat. "Your father is alive."

Tora's eyes were chips of ice. "You know what?" she said flatly, getting up, "Jacen deserves more respect than you give him."

"Go away, Tora," he ordered, falling back onto the sheets even as she shut the door. An immense wave of guilt rose up in him, making his eyes water. Dad... I'm so sorry.