Rie’s condition had worsened considerably over the past few weeks. The dark veins that stretched up from her abdomen to her chest grew ever more, consuming her body as Sho watched helplessly. She seemed to waste away every passing day.

He sat by her bedside every waking moment, and even slept by her any time he could. The priests did their best to get him out, as his own health suffered from lack of activity, but he was so set on being with his mother that eventually they gave up: any time they tried to separate the two the stress would send Sho into a fever.

Day in, day out, he sat with his mother. When she was conscious she would talk and sing to him, tell him stories, and for a moment he would forget the reality of her condition. On the days when she could manage a small walk around the compound’s inner garden, he would accompany her and pepper her with all sorts of absurd tales of adventure. She humored her son, feigning shock and surprise at his tall tales. Her days up never lasted long, and Sho cherished every one.

The last week had been especially bad. Rie’s fever had her in and out of consciousness, and when she rallied to waking she would hold Sho’s hands in her frail ones.

“He should be here for you,” Sho cried, not for the first time. “Why won’t he come?”

“Hush now, little sparrow.” She patted his hand weakly. “Your father has much to attend to.”

“But how could he just leave you here?” He wailed.

“Nobody left anybody. It’s okay, come now. There, there, my brave boy. He doesn’t mean any harm.” Rie hesitated. “It’s just that…this all has been much more than he expected.”

“He abandoned you!”

That made his mother pause thoughtfully.

“He’s a complicated man,” she started. “What we agreed to…well, life has a way of working out differently than one plans. But you mustn’t hold it against him. He cares…in his own way. He’ll take care of you when I’m gone.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” pleaded Sho helplessly.

“Shh, don’t cry my darling. Oh, my beautiful boy.” She cupped his tear stained cheek in one shaky hand. “All will be okay. I’m so proud of you. More than you could know. I know you’ll be strong for me.”

There was nothing Sho could say. He didn’t want to believe that his mother was dying, even as she lay before him, a shadow of her former self. Bloodstained tissues lay beside her from her coughing fits. At eight years old did not have the words to explain his complicated feelings about his father: all that he knew was that the Mask Seller had not come to visit in months. What could be more important than his mother’s life? It made him feel angry and frustrated and unable to express himself.

He had never known his father well. The man had been an inconsistent presence in his life, and Sho had been raised by his mother under his grandfather’s care in this far removed compound on the grounds of an old shrine. They were deep in the mountains of Xiu Tao on the border with Badhapur, and other than the occasional pilgrim or associate of his grandfather Sho had rarely met new faces. His father would visit sporadically, but even his semi regular visits had dropped off considerably. To Sho the large man was an intimidating presence, and the older he got the more anger he felt toward his father for his absence.

Now that his mother was sick the masksmith had only become more distant. Sho wondered whether he knew, or even cared, about his mother. Despite Rie’s words, Sho could not forgive his father for his absence.

Unlike his father, his grandfather visited quite regularly. He was getting quite old but his back was ramrod straight and he walked with confidence and elegance. Although not a warm man by any means, the fact that he was around made Sho trust in him more than his own father. The Founder ran some sort of energy company, but beyond that Sho did not know the details. Rie had been hesitant to let him spend much time with his grandfather but now, with her health in decline, there was not much she could do or say to stop him. Desperation and loneliness drew him to the taciturn old man’s side, heedless of his barbed words and cold tone.

On a cold day in the depths of winter, Sho awoke to the sound of hushed voices. He had fallen asleep at the little table in his mother’s sickroom, and he now stirred as he heard her speak softly.

“Please, Gheriun. Take him with you. We were foolish to think this would work. He’s just a child—if he stays here he’ll become a tool of my father’s. No matter what he’s told you, he only cares for his own goals.”

Her voice was weak but with an edge of desperation to it. Sho blinked open bleary eyes to see an enormous man sat beside his mother’s sickbed. From here he could only see his back, but he knew immediately that it was his father. Anger boiled up in him, coupled with a curiosity at what they were discussing. He decided to feign sleep and listen in while they murmured.

“Rie, I can’t. You know what your father would do if…” He shook his masked head. “We agreed to this, you and I both.”

“But he’s just a boy!” Rie’s voice rose before she lowered it again. “He needs you. I won’t be around forever.”

“Rie…”

The Mask Seller’s massive shoulders slumped. Their voices lowered further and Sho had to lean forward to hear. However he knocked the tin of crayons onto the floor, alerting both adults to his wakefulness.

“Oh Sho, honey, did we wake you?” asked his mother before a coughing fit overtook her. He rushed to her bedside as his father rubbed her shoulders and awkwardly held her through the fit. Blood as black as night and thick as tar dripped from the corner of her mouth as the masksmith dabbed at it.

“Maman, you should rest,” Sho pleaded, grabbing one of her hands in his. The skin was paper thin and the bones prominent.

“I’ll be okay,” Rie insisted. Neither Sho nor the Mask Seller believed her, but they said nothing.

“Your father was just telling me about his travels,” she added. “He’s been all over the world. Just like you want to one day.”

Her words were coming a bit forcibly, breath heaving. There was a rattle in her chest as she spoke, and she looked so weak there beside the large Mask Seller. Sho felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes but he sniffed and rubbed them angrily, not wanting his so-called father to see his pain. The man’s expression was impossible to read behind his face mask.

“But maman, you promised you’d read to me today,” Sho protested. He didn’t mind skipping it, but he didn’t want to have to spend the day with the masksmith. Rie however had other ideas.

“Sho, it’s been so long since you’ve seen your father. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear what you’ve been up to.”

That seemed to surprise the Mask Seller as much as it did his son. His shoulders twitched up and he shot his head around toward Rie, who just gave him a tired smile. Something unspoken passed between his parents’ gaze, some inscrutable message.

“Your mother needs her rest today,” he said at last.

He was right about that, that much even Sho could see. Rie was propped up on pillows but her head lolled weakly and it seemed to exhaust her to so much as lift one arm. That coughing fit was not a good sign. Sho wanted to refuse his father and stay here, but he knew he would only be in the way.

Finally, lamely, Sho inclined his head just so and kissed his mother on the cheek.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Rie smiled weakly and reached up with an unsteady hand to caress her son’s rosy cheek.

“Try to have a good day my little sparrow.”

Her usual compliment made him turn beet red in front of his father, but the Mask Seller did not seem to notice. With one last look, both father and son left the sickroom, calling on the nurses to watch after Rie. There was not much they could do but relieve the symptoms as they occurred. It was simply hospice care for a long, unforgiving illness. One, Sho knew, that was given to her by his father.

He did not know the specifics, but his grandfather had sat him down one day and explained the manner of Rie’s illness. It was an aggressive infection of inky black veins webbed beneath the skin, coupled with a hereditary disease that she had been born with. When he had asked his grandfather how she had gotten sick, the old man had not hesitated to tell him that she had caught it because of his father. Ever since he had learned that, his already complex feelings about the masksmith became murky and turgid.

Now as he walked with him down the narrow corridors of the inner sanctum Sho was once more drawn to these thoughts. He slowed as they went until he was a good yard or two behind and the Mask Seller had to stop to wait for him to catch up. They repeated this dance over and over before they finally arrived at the wide entrance hall. Here the Mask Seller waited at the head of the stairs leading down onto the outer shrine grounds. Sho dawdled as much as he could until he finally made it to the large man’s side. The masked giant hesitated a moment before proffering one oversized hand in Sho’s direction.

“I’m not a baby,” Sho protested weakly.

The masksmith reacted like he had snapped at him, flinching his hand back. He stared at it as though it had been burned before clearing his throat and wiping his hand on his robes.

“Ah, quite right… I do apologize…”

It was that tone that rankled Sho the most, the pathetic, mealy mouthed platitudes that the large man offered up. It was almost like their roles were reversed, the Mask Seller hedging as though Sho were the huge, muscled adult. It made him sick to see his father simper, hem, and haw, and his temper flared. Still, his uncertainty of the near stranger kept his tongue.

“You don’t need to apologize,” was all he could manage, feeling embarrassed by the situation.

The two of them descended the stairs in silence, pausing here and there so that Sho could catch his breath. Much like his mother, he carried a certain genetic mutation that weakened his body and constitution. It was not nearly as bad so long as he stayed active, but he was limited in what activities he could partake in. The inner stairway was okay so long as he didnt try them all in one go and took at least one or two short breaks. The Mask Seller waited patiently each time, always a few steps ahead.

They reached the perimeter walkway between the nested buildings, and here the masksmith slowed. Sho got the impression that he was working up to saying something, and he was soon proved right.

“I know it must be very scary for you right now,” his father began, picking carefully at his words. “And things must feel very overwhelming. Your mother has told me… well, it doesn’t matter what she’s told me, but what you want.”

He seemed to be making his way around a subject he was ill equipped to handle, but he strove forward nevertheless.

“I know I haven’t been very…present, in your life.” The understatement of a lifetime. “I won’t force you to make a decision right now. But you’re going to have to decide whether you stay here with your grandfather or come with me when… If the need arises.”

His inability to speak directly, or even look in Sho’s direction as he spoke, caused a flame of rage to explode in the young boy’s chest. Sho bit down so hard on his cheek that he drew blood, the metallic tang steadying him.

“What are you saying?” he hissed. His father turned his masked face away as Sho tried desperately to get him to look at him. He could at least pretend.

“Your mother, Rie, she only wants what’s best for you,” the masksmith said haltingly. “But I told her that you deserve a choice in the matter. If you’d rather be with your grandfather, I would understand.”

The meaning behind his words did not fully register with Sho right away, but when they did he bristled.

“You’re giving up on her.”

“Son, no—“

“I am not your son,” snarled Sho. “You are nothing to us. You left us, and when mom got sick you disappeared. Now you’re here, acting so high and mighty?”

His voice had risen and cracked with exertion but he could not stop himself.

“She promised me! She promised me that you’d be here, that you’d care. But you never cared did you? We’re just a burden to you!”

He was sobbing now, but still the words would not stop. All the stories his grandfather had told him, how the masksmith spent his days in idle luxury while Sho and his mother suffered, alone and isolated in the mountains. How he had given up on a life with them to pursue hedonistic whims. How he had all but forgotten about them entirely.

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” Sho finished in a low tone, tears pouring down his face. “I wish you were the one who would die!”