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Iris! Bena!

I brought you all sweets, just like I promised! Everyone gets a fair share!

Yayyy!!!

Now, did you keep your promise too? Have you figured out what you treasure the most?

I treasure my beastie bank! Look at all the coins I've saved!

I planted these flowers myself, they finally sprouted... They're so pretty, and I was wondering if you could preserve them.

Okay, okay, one at a time! Line up, everybody!

Iris and Bena try to have each child introduce their treasures in an orderly manner, but it seems every one of them is exuding limitless passion.

The children's excited voices don't die down for a second, but there's no chaos in Sakiko's eyes. On the contrary, the sight before her is filled with warmth.

Why, if it isn't Sakiko.

What brings you home so suddenly?

Sorry, who...?

We just happened to have a field mission in the area, so I figured I'd bring Sakiko along, get her to pay her family a visit while she's here.

Your father's been talking about you every day, you know? He says you've been so busy interning at a large company, you hardly ever write home.

I've never seen him that talkative. He must really miss you!

You should hurry home. Give him a nice surprise, and lift that weight off his shoulders!

(Whispers) Sakiko, you've been acting kinda weird... Like, your reactions are kinda slow.

Um... Pardon me, how do I get home from here?

Though the conversation that follows is incredibly embarrassing, Sakiko follows the kind townsperson's instructions and successfully makes her way 'back'.

Following the meandering path, she at last arrives at the door of what is allegedly her home. A white, strange building.

The flowers and grass in the courtyard are well maintained. She can hear the flowerbeds' sprinklers quietly watering the plants around them. The chimney lets out puffs of smoke, as the master of the house prepares lunch.

But she knows that this return is not to her real home.

Her real home is in a faraway, unreachable place.

Home. The first thing that comes to her mind is the Togawa family mansion, followed by the dusty, cramped little place her father rented that always smells of alcohol.

She thinks about how hardworking her father once was.

Alas, her real father is probably wandering the streets with a bottle of booze right now. He might even be uttering her name, though the sorry excuses he gives alongside are the furthest thing from 'sweet'.

Right. That is Sakiko Togawa's reality.

What she sees before her is a dream spun for her by Morpheus, and it doubles as a cage to imprison her.

Suddenly, the aroma of food seizes her.

Hmm-hmm... ♪ Hmm-hm-hmm... ♪ Hmm-hmm... ♪ Hmm-hm-hmm... ♪

...Sakiko?!

What brings you back all of a sudden? I thought you were busy with work?

I am... We have a field mission, so I thought I would drop by.

You've hardly ever written home! Every day, I've been reading the few letters you did send over and over.

They're no more than simple letters. You needn't...

How could they be <i>no more than</i> letters when they're written by my dear daughter?!

Father, I think something's burning...

Just hold on!

I lost track of the time... I'll have to remake it from scratch...

I was taking classes for a good while to learn to make your favorite dishes, Sakiko. How about a taste?

Father? I thought you never used to cook.

I have a lot more time on my hands nowadays, so I thought I might as well try something new.

And look at you... How much weight have you lost...

We have regular medical evaluations at Rhodes Island—I weigh just as much as I did before.

No, you've definitely lost some weight!

With a worried look on his face, Sakiko's 'father' reaches a hand out to pat his daughter's head.

Huh...?

Her father's hand feels at once unfamiliar and nostalgic.

As she remembers it, she would always be stooping down, her drunken father's arm over her shoulder, as they slowly inched homeward one step at a time.

His hand hung ever so feebly before her eyes, as close as it was just now, but so, so different...

I'm not a child anymore. Please don't...

Well, you'll always be my most darling daughter.

Don't want you forgetting your smile, not even while you're out working.

...Yes.

The two of them smile at each other. The hesitation in Sakiko's mind is cast aside.

She's certain that this smile of hers, right now, is true and genuine.

I can hear piano from upstairs... Do we have a guest today?

Hm? What are you talking about, Sakiko?

Surely that's Mizuho practicing the piano.

...Mother?

Well, yes! It's always been you and Mizuho who know how to play it.

Oh, right, I haven't told Mizuho you're back yet.

She's going to be overjoyed to see you. You should head on up!

Sakiko's legs begin to shake.

And a low hum continues echoing in her mind.

Piano.

As the music continues, her memories of her mother slowly begin to well forth in her heart.

She still remembers how she cried her eyes out on the day of her mother's funeral.

The piano was her mother's favorite instrument. That is why Sakiko loves the piano.

Sakiko's mother would hold Sakiko's hands so gently, and teach her to feel her way around each and every key, black and white.

In the days following her mother's death, Sakiko could still vividly recall every moment of her time spent with her mother, and kept playing song after song her mother had taught her.

Run.

All of this is fake. A dream spun from yarn by Morpheus.

That is not her real mother.

How could Morpheus possibly know everything about her?

She is nothing but a crude forgery.

And yet.

And yet—

Her legs do not carry her to a stop. They seem to move faster, if anything.

Despite this being a dream. Despite her being a 'forgery'.

Because just like that, she truly is right there.

Sitting there, completely engrossed in her performance.

A ray of light filters in from the window and drapes her figure, making her somewhat hard to make out.

But at this moment, only one thing is on Sakiko's mind.

M... Mother...?

Her 'mother' stops playing, and turns around.

...Sakiko?

Everything before her eyes is so, so real.

<i>A fowlbeast that flies for its whole life does so not out of an unwillingness to land.</i>

<i>Its decisive wings shroud the pain and tragedy that come with having no legs.</i>

<i>I do not fear forgetting.</i>