“You have funny eyes.”

Gackt turned to look at the younger of his two nephews and arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“They’re a funny color,” the little boy explained. “They’re not like Daddy’s. Or Mommy’s. They’re funny.” He tilted his head to the side and crawled up into his uncle’s lap for a better look. Pressing his nose against Gackt’s he stared wide-eyed into the man’s gray eyes. “How’d you get them like that?”

“Your great-grandmother gave them to me.”

“Really? Where’s she?” the little boy asked, pulling away to look around the crowded room.

Gackt smiled gently and ruffled the boy’s tousled brown hair. “She died before you were born.”

“Oh,” came the stunted reply. “I’m sorry Uncle…”

The man shook his head and poked the boy’s nose. “Don’t be sorry – she was a very nice and wise woman, but very, very old too. She fell asleep one night and just didn’t wake up.”

“Was Grandma sad?” the boy asked, pulling at his socks and struggling to get them off his small feet.

“Well, yes of course she was sad, but she’s alright now.”