INSINCERITY | Tokyo Rev.

.𝟬𝟱𝟮

[𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲] [𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲]

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[name] [last name] was a baby born on November 1st in the year 1989, close to eleven at night. She was born to a mother and father who unfortunately had fallen out of love, all because of her in summary.

Most people forget about this time in their life after forming into somebody new. [name] chooses to ignore her early life, for none of it was ever good unless her father was around. So she picks what to remember, the memories worthwhile.

Those who can only remember that night were her father and mother, majority of it being her dad due to her mom being extremely tired. He is the one who burned the memory into his mind, finding it more significant than anything else in the world.

He found the whole thing exciting, for she was the first girl in the family to be born after so many generations of just men with their wives. He can't remember the last time a woman was blood-born with the [last name] name — there's too many "greats" to say. Maybe it was her mothers genetics to break the tradition, and it's not like he was bothered or anything. The health of his baby is all that mattered.

"Scared?"

[fathers name] looked away from the infant coddled in his arms, torn from his train of thoughts after the doctor made his presence known. He couldn't stop smiling, feeling nervous. Overjoyed. Content. He was still in disbelief even after fifteen hours had passed, afraid the little girl in his arms would vanish like a dream.

The father lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction. "A little," he admits, a chuckle following behind as his eyes find their way to his newborn. "but I've always wanted this. I don't think there's any other job that suits me rather than this one."

The doctor laughs, understanding because he too has three children of his own. Two daughters and a son who always welcome him home in their own way — the two older sisters routinely picking on and chasing their younger brother. Would he change any of it? No.

"[name], you guys had agreed on?" The doctor catches a glimpse of the writing on the door. "Where did that come from?"

[fathers name] scrunches his nose and breathes exaggeratedly. "It's a long story," he shakes his head, but still he decides to sum it up. "named her after the last woman to be born in my bloodline. She had a good spirit despite how angry she looked in all her photos" It's what he had heard, for he's never met the woman due to their insanely large age gap.

He turns all his focus back to the girl in his arms, resisting the urge to just brush a finger over her cheek. He doesn't want to risk her getting sick, that's why he and the girl's mother both agreed no one can visit until they are out of the hospital. He's bothered by the idea of her getting passed around arm to arm, because he can never be sure of who's clean and who's not.