At 8:57 I Was In Heaven

A steaming mug was clutched between Kumo’s hands as she watched the sun rise, her eyes barely able to hold themselves open. After a long night shift, all she wanted to do was to go to bed. But she had to wait today, as the mail would be coming.

The mailman, Davis, would come running soon, his bag nearly bursting due to all of the papers crammed into it. No matter how many times Kumo offered to stitch it up for him, he declined, his eyes alight and already itching to run the long distance between her house and the next. The only thing he accepted from her was a bottle of water, which he would gulp down greedily before wishing her a good day. A good day for her was unbothered sleep.

It was common for Kumo to sit and wait for the mail. She was always waiting for news from her sisters, who rarely wrote to her despite her vocal annoyance about their silence. Each letter they sent was neatly packed away in boxes, waiting under her bed to be opened again after she read and reread the letter sent that day. But today was different, as it marked the sixth month that her sisters had not written.

Mika and Honoka were busy, Kumo knew that. Both were off in the military, likely fighting for their lives, spending days moving heavy equipment, or training relentlessly. Honoka had a hard time writing, as she argued that letters would blur for her and her hands would start to shake when she put pen to paper. Mika, on the other hand, was fine with writing. Which begged the question: why hadn’t they written in six months?

Kumo tried to reason with herself. Perhaps both of them really were so busy that they couldn’t write. Maybe something had happened and writing a letter would be considered dangerous. She tried not to think of the fact that they may have been killed in battle. That hadn’t happened, so there was no reason to dwell on it. It didn’t change the fact that she would sometimes pause, mind in another place, trying to imagine life without her family. It made her so sick that she had to think of something else when that thought came.

She would have joined them if she could. She went through the training as a medic, as she hated the feeling of a weapon in her hand. While Honoka and Mika saw a weapon as a tool, Kumo saw it as nothing more than something to kill. Healing people was something she was apt at. Blood didn’t scare her, neither did grotesque wounds that would cover a patient’s body. But she never got the chance, for as soon as the clipboard was handed to her, she felt cold. Horrid. Twitchy. After all the training she did, she gave the papers to Mika and refused to go.

Kumo didn’t know why she got cold feet so suddenly. She knew what she was getting into. She knew what would come with being a medic–not being able to save everyone, guilt, fear… but she didn’t want to face that reality. She liked being at home, taking care of people who stopped by, and seeing Davis every week. She wasn’t built for an action-packed life, no matter what her sisters believed.

Honoka joined the military for some change, while Mika joined simply to follow her older sister. In a way, Kumo admired the oldest, though she’d rather never drink tea again than admit it. Honoka knew what she wanted, which was to fight. No one could call her smart when it came to school, but when it came to knowing herself? No one knew Honoka better than Honoka, as Mika would say.

Hearing news about Mika was what really set Kumo on edge. Mika was the opposite of both sisters; she felt emotions deeply and got timid over strange things. It shocked both Honoka and Kumo to their cores when Mika said she was going to go with Honoka into the military, specifically the army. She was no fighter and she still flinched when someone tapped her shoulder. Well, she went anyway and Kumo had to give credit where it was due. Mika kept her word and left as well, something Honoka never did unless it benefitted her.

Kumo leaned back in her chair, the sun above the horizon now. The bottle of water nearly fell over when she rocked the chair, but she managed to catch it with her foot. It would do no good for her to think about her sisters now. She had to appreciate what was in front of her instead of dreading the possibilities to come. The warmth of sunlight hitting her skin, the cool air now starting to warm up, and how comfortable her clothes felt now that she was in her pajamas. That was what she could focus on right now.

She didn’t dare shut her eyes, as she would fall asleep if she did. She watched the sun rise higher and finished her tea, holding the cup even after she was done. The chair creaked every so often as she rocked back and forth, her only companion in the early morning. Then–

“Miss Kumo!” a young male voice cried out. “Miss Kumo!”

Kumo sat up, setting her cup on the ground and picking up the water bottle. Davis came running, his brown hair sleek as ever, drops of sweat decorating his forehead. His blue uniform, made for a runner, was tight against his skin as he heaved for air. He stopped in front of her where she was standing on the stairs, grinning.

“Hello, Davis,” Kumo said, her voice cracked and weak after hours of disuse. “How are you?”

Davis readjusted his cap, puffing his chest proudly. “Just fine, ma’am! Now, I’m here to deliver mail, not chat…”

As he rummaged around in his bag, Kumo squashed down her smile. “You should come over for dinner sometime. They work you far too hard.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Davis muttered indifferently, then let out a squeal of glee as he handed over three envelopes. Kumo took them and tucked them under her arm, giving him the water bottle. Davis took it and poured it over his head, grunting appreciatively.

“See you next week, Davis,” Kumo smiled, waving as he started to run off.

She walked back inside, taking the empty tea cup with her. Kumo shuffled up the letters, sitting down in her dark kitchen. The morning light illuminated the room enough for her to read the loopy writing. That one was bills, that would be taken care of later… this one was from a close friend, she’d have to reply later… Kumo’s eyes widened. This one was from Mika.

Taking care to not rip the letter inside, she tore open the envelope and greedily pored over the written words inside.

Dear Kumo,

I’m very sorry for not writing for so long, honest! Honoka and I were sent on a pretty dangerous mission that was, well, dangerous. We weren’t allowed to contact anyone, as it could have revealed everything and we likely wouldn’t have made it out alive. Don’t worry though! Honoka is alive and well, as she’s trying to distract me as I’m writing this. I’m okay too. We didn’t want to cause any worry, so I wrote this as soon as the mission was over. We were successful, but you won’t be seeing anything on the news. We were kind of a backup if things did go wrong. I hope everything is well with you and remember: we only have three months left here. Then we’ll all be home and we can go out to eat some time.

Lots of love, Mika

Kumo checked the time. It was 8:57 in the morning, which was a late time for her to be awake. If she went to bed now, she’d get enough sleep to survive her next shift. But it was going to be hard to fall asleep with the excitement now buzzing in her chest.

Three months left.