I don't own anything from either From the New World or if not us.
Chances are you're here looking for a From the New World fic. if not us is a free indie game that came out this January, so most of you probably don't know about it, but if you love FTNW (especially the first half) you'll love it too, for exactly the same reasons. I also can't tell you much about it, for exactly the same reasons it's difficult to tell people the story of FTNW without pummeling them with spoilers. The synopsis does a good job at giving you the feel and gist of it though, so here it is:
Seven years ago, five heroes were brought together to save the world. Their success came at the cost of their leader's life; the secret behind it cost them their friendship.
Now they've been summoned for a new heroic quest.
if not us is about the moment when they realise everything isn't going to be okay.
It's a series of five games, each from a different person's POV and in a different format (a letter to the only other person left alive, a conversation with the enemy who killed everyone else, a diary entry with all the painful bits scribbled over...you get the picture.)
This fanfic completely spoils the story of INU, so I HIGHLY recommend you go play that first. You can find it on itch-dot-io, completely free, sooo...
Feel free to tell me what you think in the comments, both what you liked and what you didn't. If you didn't like the story, say so, but give reasons so I know how to get better. If you like it, also give reasons. It's good to know what you're doing well.
Updates will be slow, but I won't discontinue this.
The day dawns clear and the sun is shining on the first day of school, and I pull on my skirt and fix my tie with trembling hands. My room, the sea, the birds are grey and dull, seen and heard a million times and always the same, but there is a promise of wonder and welcoming and more, thick in the air like nothing I've ever felt before.
I'm dressed and hair combed and out the house, barely giving Mum and Dad time to say goodbye. The path is thick with children like a stream, but they part for me and I barely look at them; head high and long strides, look straight ahead don't glance aside, stick it out, out, out, Polly, because I can't relax my shield until I'm there. What are a few minutes after six whole years? They're waiting for me at Harmony School, someone, someones, I don't know who, but around them there'll be no silences, no awkwardness, no stares. It's nice to be admired but it creates an emptiness, everybody afraid to get too close.
Today everything feels alive.
The wind is in my hair and the sun is rising yellow-gold-red, and the pink cherry blossoms float everywhere and the world wants me, it's alive wanting me to be happy, to hurry and arrive and fill that heart-space, quickly quickly quickly quickly soon –
- I see her.
She's just another kid, but our eyes meet for a second and she's smiling, no strangeness just grinning, an easy smile and open so her eyes are sparkling, and -
- She's gone.
I hadn't stopped to say hello, instinct and surprise keeping me going, not even reacting, just a glance and I'd kept walking, what had happened only penetrating when I've long since passed her by. I should be disappointed but I'm not, I'm happy and excited, because I am going to Harmony School, and so is she.
-n-
The welcoming ceremony is more waiting, but I don't mind because I've had a taste and whatever is here will come. I'm first, the gift-curse of my name, and then I'm inside and taking a place at the front, waiting as the other first years enter behind me, taking their token from the teacher at the door. There is no one in the entrance hall but us, yet still it's full to bursting. I finger my token as I wait, feeling it smooth-coarse-smooth under my skin. It's the letters of my name, APOLLINARIYA, written in shaky letters down the scroll. I let my fingers brush the ink, and I wait.
Twenty minute-years later and we're done, walking down the corridor to our classroom. I'm near the front but still I have to wait to find space at the notice board. I look close and there's my table, and three more names below mine. I read them, feeling the rich sounds and the hollow, tasting the words as I whisper them aloud.
XXXXXX
Seble
Renatum
They're the ones I'm waiting for, I know, blood-of-my-blood and flesh-of-my-flesh, and I step inside with my heart thumping and my face aflush. I walk towards my table and she's there, the girl with the bright open smile. For the first time I can truly see her: her hair is xxxxxxxxxxxxx, her eyes xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. She looks up as I come closer and her grin widens, and she reaches down to pat the chair by her side.
'I'm XXXXXX,' she says. 'You?'
'Nariya.' I smile, I can't help it, her grin is infectious. 'It's really great to meet you.'
'Me too! I'm sure we'll get along just great.'
She smiles again, eyes sparkling, and I'm taken by surprise all over again, because nobody smiles so truthfully, as if meeting you is a delight and she's elated, and I feel relaxed and happy in a way I've never felt before. We've only just met but I know I can trust her.
-n-
She's from Waterwheel, south of Hayring, and within minutes we're sharing stories of our villages, me telling her of the blue-white waves and glittering reflections of the ocean, where you can catch crabs and shellfish and build rafts when it's calm, and of the sandy beaches where you can build sand castles or watch for tiger crabs, and the rolling hills of bushes and trees that hide you totally and completely from sight, and she speaking of waterways with more than four different waterwheels, puffer sparrows and reed warblers, ever so rare in Whitesand, and going down the waterways to the fields of Gold, where the wheat is head-high and the trees tall and sprawling, perfect for hide and seek, and…
'It's a pleasure to meet you.'
I turn round, startled: it's a boy, tall, long hair drawn back in a knot. There's a depth to his gaze and an elegance to his manner, as if he's somehow older, wiser, than six years allow.
Gracefully he moves to sit beside us, all the while staring shamelessly, gazing far too long for politeness to excuse.
'I'm XXXXXX.' She speaks up cheerfully. 'This is Apollinariya. You?'
'I am called Renatum.'
The I am called adds a layer of meaning, a barrier against saying 'Ren' that's almost physical, and I stop and take care as I piece my words together. I taste significance on my tongue as I answer: By others, perhaps. By us, too?
'That,' he says, 'doesn't really matter.'
'Ren, then,' I say. 'You can call me Nariya.'
'Very well,' he says, but for the first time there's a spark of interest in his gaze. He joins in when we continue talking, slowly, reluctantly, as if he considers it a waste of time, yet somehow he always has a quip ready when I try to change the subject, and in all his stories it is him at the centre, capturing the flag and glimpsing the Copycat and throwing the haythatcher's eggs at the statue in front of Harmony School. I raise an eyebrow when he says that, and XXXXXX stifles a laugh, but I find it hard to disbelieve him. He is not the sort of person one would expect to do such things. Yet somehow he is.
-n-
Seble comes in later, one of the last: a quiet boy with a head of curly hair and skin even darker than mine. The second makes me curious but he doesn't say much, barely speaking anything besides his name. Ren shoots him curious glances and XXXXXX makes him feel welcome, or tries to, but I can't bring myself to feel anything towards him. He doesn't act shy, no blushes or fidgets or looking away, but he's not anything else either, not angry or rowdy or friendly, not even confidently superior like Ren. With time he seems to fade into the background, and soon the first day of classes begins.
-n-n-
But as the bell rings I realise I don't feel grey anymore, there's a space in my heart called home and it's full, and my face is alight with a smile I can't get rid of.
