The vice-president woke up on the weekend forgetting where she was. For a moment in her disillusioned morning state, she believed she was still in her dorm in PsiTech, late for Mrs. Tanaka’s history class. Her brain reminded her that she had graduated over ten years ago. It also brutally reminded her of her foiled vote the previous week. She buried her head in her pillow and exhaled deeply, feeling the warm air spread to her face. The body in bed next to her shifted. Tsubasa laid his hand on her back. His warmth spread across her shoulder to her neck. She turned over on her side and stared into her lover’s eyes.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked softly.

  “My mother,” she said curtly. He grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her wily hair off the side of her cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He kissed her lightly, his lips barely brushing across hers. His tawny colored hair looked far too perfect for having just woken up. She had yet to find a flaw in him in their private excursions. It made her more nervous than anything else.

  A jolt of responsibility zapped through her. He bolted out of bed and put her clothes on.

  “Where are you going?” Tsubasa asked.

  “I have things to do today,” she said, zipping her pants up.

  “You always have things to do,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s kind of what happens when you’re the president’s daughter.” She tied her shoes and moved toward the door. “You have lots to do.”

  “I’ll get to work drafting that next law,” Tsubasa said, still lounging in bed.

  “Don’t bother. They won’t go for it,” Kokoro said. She opened the door to leave.

  “We’ll get one one day,” he mumbled. Kokoro rolled her eyes. She shut the door and put her mask on. She also put on glasses to avoid being recognized leaving his apartment complex.

  Later, after a long day of work that would likely go down the drain again, she returned to her building. In the elevator, she pressed the top button, knowing she owed her father a visit. He hadn’t truly spoken to her in a long time. She had known he would never approve of what she’d been doing in his absence. The minute his health took a turn and it looked like Kokoro was going to take over, she instantly went against his policies. Another Azuma would never hold the top spot in the government again so she had to seize her opportunity. In truth, the president was not in great shape. Neon Lung still had no cure. The only thing her father could have done is go back in time and wear a mask as a child. The doctors could only fend off the disease for a couple years before it was too much. Just like what happened to her mother. Kokoro and her brother had always imagined their father was indestructible. He had spent their childhood trailblazing through Arcadia’s elite and putting their family on the map. It was his ambition that led them to the presidency. Seeing him weak and bedridden was difficult. It didn’t look right, like a physical oxymoron. Not only his body betrayed after their mother passed, but his mind. The mental collapse was harder to deal with. Working alongside her father in the cabinet had forced her to destroy the image that she had of him from childhood. The brave hero of her youth was replaced by a bitter grump who forgot his goal in life.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The elevator opened. That man that lay in the bed was not her father, but that husk that replaced him. The father she grew up with was not the president.

  Kokoro sat beside the bed. Even though president Azuma was asleep, Kokoro still thought he looked tired. A machine that monitored his heartbeat beat steadily. The nurse replaced a bag that connected to an IV tube in the president’s arm and left the room to leave the Azumas by themselves. She stared at him for a moment. His hair was almost completely gone. His breath was labored like the air could barely get to his lungs. She was suddenly overwhelmed with her surroundings and folded over in her lap, wrapping herself into a ball. The tears wouldn’t come, however. She looked over at her father.

  “Why did you ask me to do this, dad?” she wheezed. “All it does is eat away at me.” Her father erupted into a coughing fit. Kokoro lurched back, surprised. Ugly, hacking coughs filled the room and his head rolled over in Kokoro’s direction. His eyes slowly opened. She could see confusion clouding them. “Dad?”

  “Is that you, Noa?” he whispered.

  “No, dad. Mom’s gone,” said Kokoro, rubbing his arm.

  “Who is that? Ayumu?” the president said, speaking of her brother. She squeezed his arm tighter, as if it would help him remember.

  “It’s me, dad. It’s Kokoro. Ayumu isn’t here, remember? He left.”

  “Oh, Koko. It’s you,” he said. The disappointment couldn’t be masked in his heavily medicated state. “She isn’t too bright, Noa.” He was confused again. Only Kokoro had the feeling he knew exactly what he was saying. “Don’t put all your hope on Koko. I never did think highly of her.” He stared back at the ceiling and closed his eyes again. Kokoro sat still, her hand still stuck on his arm.

  The heart monitor went on beeping.