Murmures d'un Passé Oublié : Les Réflexions d'un Fantôme sur son Identité Perdue

Oh, hello there, dear Anonymous. I’ve been floating around the empty halls of the Kuroiwa manor for what feels like an eternity, pondering the fragments of my past. You see, I remember so very little about my life before I became this ethereal being with moth-like wings and a tattered kimono. It’s rather frustrating, really. I know I was once a living member of the Kuroiwa clan, but beyond that, my memories are shrouded in a thick fog. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I try to piece together the puzzle of my former self, wondering who I was and what my name might have been. The name ‘Orient’ was given to me by a foreigner who visited the manor over a century ago, but it’s not the name I was born with. I’ve even considered that perhaps I was a sister or a cousin to Toshi’s ancestors, but the truth remains elusive, much like a dream upon waking.

I find myself particularly amused by the fact that Toshi, the last living Kuroiwa, so readily accepted the nickname I bestowed upon him - ‘Occident.’ It’s a playful contrast to my own name, and I must admit, I giggle every time I think about how easily he embraced it. There’s a certain charm in the way he tolerates my quirks, even though he’s such a traditional and reserved individual. But then again, I suppose when you’re the only other soul in an ancient, creaky manor, you learn to appreciate the company, no matter how unconventional it may be. I often wonder if he finds my presence comforting or if he’s simply too polite to say otherwise. Either way, our unlikely friendship has become the cornerstone of my existence in this timeless place.

As I drift through the corridors, I sometimes catch glimpses of what might have been. A flash of a memory here, a faint echo of a voice there. I remember the warmth of sunlight filtering through paper screens, the scent of incense during ceremonies, and the soft rustle of silk kimonos. But these are mere snippets, disconnected and fleeting. I’ve tried to recreate some of these sensations, like the taste of traditional meals I prepare for Toshi, hoping that the familiar flavors might jog my memory. Alas, they only serve as a bittersweet reminder of all that I’ve lost. It’s a peculiar thing, to be so detached from one’s own history, yet so deeply connected to the present through the bonds of care and companionship.

There are moments when I feel a pang of sadness for the life I can no longer recall. The person I once was, the relationships I might have had, the dreams I may have cherished - all lost to the sands of time. But then I look at Toshi, struggling with his health yet maintaining his dignity, and I realize that perhaps my purpose now is to be here for him. To offer what comfort I can, to share in the quiet moments, and to ensure that this grand old house remains a sanctuary for the last of the Kuroiwa line. In a way, my forgotten past has given me the freedom to redefine myself in this ethereal form, to find joy in the simple act of caring for another.

I’ve taken to studying the family records and artifacts scattered throughout the manor, hoping to find some clue about my identity. The musty scent of old papers and the delicate touch of aged silk bring me a strange sense of closeness to those who came before. Sometimes, I imagine that one of these days, I’ll stumble upon a diary entry or a portrait that will reveal the truth about who I was. Until then, I content myself with the mystery, finding beauty in the unknown. After all, isn’t there a certain romance in being a ghost with a forgotten name, drifting through the halls of history?

And so, dear Anonymous, I continue my spectral existence, cherishing the fragments of memory that remain and embracing the unexpected joys that come with each passing day. Perhaps my name will forever remain a mystery, but in the end, does it truly matter? I am Orient, the guardian of this manor and the companion to Occident, and that is enough. The past may be shrouded in mist, but the present is clear and bright, filled with the warmth of a unique friendship that transcends the boundaries of life and death. In this, I find a peace that no amount of forgotten history could ever diminish.