Kubo and the Heavens Mask: Chapter Two

Stuck in an unfamiliar room with no one to indicate where he might be, Hanzo took a closer look at his surroundings. On the desk stood a black name plaque, giving the desk a professional look. He wondered who it belonged to. Beside the plaque was a metal stand, what it was for was beyond him.

The final item on the desk was a picture frame, containing a photo of a family of three. On the right was a man with greying hair, wearing a dark blue suit. In the middle stood a boy with a long fringe curiously obscuring his right eye. To the left of the boy was a woman, with long black hair and a pale complexion. Hanzo marveled at her beauty and envied whoever was lucky enough to be her family. Such envy did not last very long, once he spied his own reflection in the window of the building, because the husband of such a heavenly woman, he concluded was himself.

Filled with joy from the discovery that he had a family, Hanzo fumbled through his pocket to find his wallet. Inside the wallet was his driver’s license which revealed his home address. With his memory not up to the task of navigating the streets, Hanzo left the building and hailed a taxi. Leaving Hanzo without the stress of having to locate his house.

After an hour’s drive, the taxi arrived at its destination and Hanzo payed the fare he owed the taxi’s driver. Accepting the bills from the taxi’s window, the driver recognized Hanzo’s face from his many appearances on the news.

“Have you ever been on TV? You look familiar.” The driver asked, unable to put his finger on who Hanzo actually was. But as it turned out, neither did he.

“I wouldn’t know, you tell me!” Hanzo flashed the driver a smile and walked towards the doorstep of his house.

Feeling nervous from meeting his family for the first time in his eyes, Hanzo’s finger remained in place. Inches from the doorbell, too apprehensive to continue.

“Just clear your mind and breathe.” Hanzo spoke out loud to himself and finally rang the doorbell, his finger recoiling from the suddenness of the shrill sound.

“Father! You’re alright!” Kubo raced towards his father and hugged him tightly, relieved that his father had arrived safely. Uncertain how to react, Hanzo smiled and patted Kubo on the head.

But before Kubo could say anything else, Sariatu intervened with a friendly suggestion that sounded amicable to a child on the surface, but spelled trouble for whoever she was about to converse with.

“Kubo, why don’t you play in your room, while I talk to your father?”

“But I want to talk to him!” Kubo protested. His father had never arrived home this late and Kubo was anxious to hear his reason for it.

“Do as your mother says, uh… son.” Hanzo struggled with finding the last word. The idea that the boy before him was his son, still feeling quite new to him.

With Kubo out of earshot Sariatu proceeded to scold her tardy husband. “What happened? We were getting worried! You promised him you’d always come home, no matter what happened at work!”

“I… can’t remember.” Hanzo admitted sheepishly, slightly afraid of his wife’s well-intentioned, but frightening angry words.

“Were you really so busy that you can’t even recall anything to use as an excuse?” Sariatu posed a question that Hanzo would have to answer carefully.

“No! I mean, I can’t remember anything!” Hanzo answered her sincerely.

“Go on.”

“I opened my eyes and there was darkness. When I turned on the lights, I was in a strange room with a desk that had a photo of a family I didn’t even recognize. And now, all I’m left with is a bruise on my head and no memories to call my own.” Hanzo elaborated, the sadness of recent events clear in his voice.

“I understand. I’ll go talk with Kubo.” Sariatu turned towards the direction of Kubo’s bedroom.

“But I didn’t catch your name.” Hanzo’s charming words stopping Sariatu in her tracks.

“My name is Sar—.”

“Serious lady?” Hanzo made an observant quip.

“Sariatu. And at least your sense of humour is still intact.” Sariatu remarked with a wry smile.

Knocking on the door, Sariatu entered Kubo’s room, but before she could even speak, Kubo quickly spoke up with a pressing question. “Mother, why was father late?”

“Your father is a bit confused at the moment, he’s forgotten a few things.” Sariatu explained, understating the extent of her husband’s amnesia for Hanzo’s sake.

“Did he forget where we live?” Kubo asked, in a surprisingly understanding way for a boy his age, making Sariatu smile.

“Did he forget about us?”

That question, Sariatu was not prepared for. It pained her to see her son take his father’s affliction so personally.

“No! Your father would never forget about us, no matter what state his memory was in. We just need to be patient with him. Can you do that for me, Kubo?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Good night Kubo. Don’t stay up late reading comic books again, OK?”

“I won’t!” Kubo promised and shoved his Mighty Beetle Warrior comic book under his pillow for later reading when his mother had left.

Hanzo struggled with finding sleep that night, haunted by a nightmare of an intruder seeking to cause him harm. He looked at the still figure of his wife, looking so peaceful in her slumber. If only he could find such peace, he thought.

Closing the bedroom door quietly, Hanzo left the room and turned towards the corridor that lead to the kitchen. Hanzo wasn’t expecting to see any light in the house at this hour of the night, yet a sliver of light remained, coming from the gap between the floor and Kubo’s bedroom door.

Opening the door slightly and peering through, Hanzo saw the silhouette of a boy reading a book with a flashlight, projected over the blanket draped over him.

“Your mother’s asleep Kubo, you don’t have to read under the covers.” Hanzo informed Kubo, guessing that it was Sariatu who had told him not to read at night.

Hearing Hanzo’s voice all of a sudden, Kubo sprang back a little into his propped up pillow and switched off the flashlight in a hurry.

Coming to Kubo’s aid, Hanzo lifted up the blanket and sat on the edge of Kubo’s mattress.

“Didn’t mean to scare you there… Kubo. So what was so important that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to read?”

“This! Mighty Beetle Warrior. He’s a mighty samurai cursed by a witch to have the body of Beetle. He stops greedy bandits and saves princesses!” Kubo showed Hanzo the cover of his comic book and explained its premise excitedly, thrilled that his father was taking an interest in his favourite comic book.

“Have we read this together before?” Hanzo asked, but regretted asking such a question when he heard the answer.

“No. You’re usually too busy with work to read with me.” Kubo answered him honestly and looked down to avoid his father’s gaze.

Though it hurt to hear the truth, Hanzo realized that some good could come out of his memory loss. He now had a chance to make things right, by spending more time with his son.

“I won’t be going to work tomorrow. Do you want to read Mighty Beetle Warrior together, after school?”

“Yes!” Kubo exclaimed and hugged his father. And for the first time that evening, Hanzo truly felt at peace.

The next day, Kubo’s class went on a field trip to a museum in the city. He liked the samurai exhibits the most and the decorative fans, but the insect collections creeped him out. As the collective class moved on to the next exhibit, led by Mrs. Kameyo, Kubo noticed something lurking in the shadows.

Standing with their back against the wall was a person dressed in black, wearing a red and white kitsune mask. Flexing their fingers, the mysterious stranger conjured up electric blue wisps of fire.

Kubo watched as the flames flew towards the glass stand of an ancient mask piece and seeped under the glass, filling the case with flames. The glass shattered from the expansion of flames, scattering shards of glass in multiple directions, causing the museum visitors to scream in fear. Frozen to the spot with fear, Kubo kept his eye locked on the mask as it glided, suspended by the flames into the hands of the thief.

With the mask piece secured, the thief made their escape, dissipating into the shadows. Once they had gone, Camellia; the girl who had tried to take a look at Kubo’s drawing the day before, approached Kubo and placed a hand on his shoulder. Stunned by what he had witnessed, Kubo said nothing and wiped a tear from his eye.

“A museum in Tokyo has been robbed of a priceless artifact by what eyewitnesses describe as a person wielding “magical blue fire.” Police have no explanation for this supposed supernatural phenomenon, but urge the public to proceed with caution should they encounter such an individual, who they describe as “a danger to public safety.

“Mother, is what they said on TV true? Am I dangerous?” Kubo asked, once the new report had concluded.

Eyes widening, Sariatu quickly turned off the television with the remote, so as to not upset Kubo any further.

“That’s not true Kubo, your powers are a gift. It’s the people who abuse magic who are dangerous.”

“Are you sure?” Kubo persisted with his questions, still doubtful on the perceptions of magic, the people around him held.

“Yes!” Sariatu and Hanzo answered in unison, silencing any doubts that Kubo might have had.