Author's Notes: An experimental little fic, set
in Mirai Trunk's timeline. Focuses on what a 'normal' human might
experience. Constructive criticism always welcome.
Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ, certainly not making any money off
this. Hasu is mine, so is Nobara and Tsubomi ^_^
By Kami's Grace
Chapter 1
Hasu gathered the tatters of her once white robe around her, a futile attempt to keep out the unseasonable chill. The sleeves fluttered a bit and stirred the air. Hasu scowled as the sour odor of her own body reached her. 'Ugh...I need a bath' she thought, disgusted. She rubbed her grubby hands together, as if she could clean them with the action alone, and her scowl deepened. She hated being this dirty.
'Hard to keep very clean these days' she admitted to herself. She scanned the area around her, taking in the crumbling walls and patched holes in the ceiling. It was an old school building, one of the few structures still standing after the attack that had changed this world. It had originally been chosen as a refugee shelter because water still came through the pipes. But a few weeks ago, the water had stopped.
Most people blamed the androids, the ones responsible for the destruction of the city in the first place. Many believed it was an attempt to force them out. Hasu doubted the androids had done it deliberately. Rather, she believed it was an indirect result of some other attack. 'But why do they attack us at all?' she wondered. It seemed to be a mystery to everyone.
"ahhh...aahma?" a soft little voice seemed to query her. Hasu blinked, distracted from her musings, then cast her gaze down to the infant lying in her lap. The baby's round face scrunched in uncertainty. Tears pooled in his green eyes.
The scowl melted from Hasu's face and she smiled reassuringly. She stroked the small head, soothing away the infant's fretting expression.
"Hush, Tsubomi," she whispered. She picked up the baby and cradled it in her arms. A thrill of quiet pleasure went through her. Hasu sighed. She always felt happiest when holding a baby. 'It's like...touching the purest essence of life' she thought with wonder. She smiled down at Tsubomi. The infant cooed, then made a few whimpering noises when Hasu didn't move.
"Ah, You want your mama, don't you?" Hasu said to the baby, her smile turning wistful. "Well, the doctor should be done with her now, so why don't we go see her?" She rose carefully from the mat she had been sitting on. Heading out into a hallway, she walked over to the gym area, where the main infirmary had been set up. She didn't walk as quickly as was usual, because a selfish part of her didn't want to give Tsubomi up too soon.
It wasn't long, though, before she was at the mother's bedside. The fair haired woman opened weary eyes. Her face practically shone when she saw Tsubomi. She held out her arms for her son.
"Here's your mama," Hasu said as she handed the infant over. The woman murmured a silent 'thank you' as she hugged Tsubomi close. Hasu bowed slightly, then quickly turned and left. She didn't want Tsubomi's mother to see her envy. Taking a deep breath, she pushed away her feelings, she knew there was no place for such selfishness now.
Hasu wandered through the rest of the shelter, peeking in here and there, checking to see if the doctors or nurses needed supplies, or if the refugees wanted anything. She had to reassure several that the evening water ration would come soon. It was her job to see to these little things, to fetch what was needed or pass messages along, and generally help out where she could. What small skills she had, she was happy to give.
Eventually, Hasu arrived at the cooking area. Steam drifted out the doorway, along with a good amount of wood smoke. She waved aside the offending fumes and stepped inside. The room was empty, not unusual considering the air made it difficult to breathe easily. Hasu went to the stove and pushed the small pipe flue open a little wider. The mechanism didn't work very well, opening only a bit, but it gave some relief. She then checked the noodles, which were boiling in a broth. The scowl from before returned.
'Noodles in broth...Nobara would cringe,' thought Hasu. It wasn't the dish itself that was the problem, it was the way they had to cook it. 'The noodles should be cooking in water, not the broth itself' she thought peevishly 'Doing it this way always makes the soup too thick and cloudy.' Hasu gave a short, humorless laugh. 'Listen to me, all I can do is complain, when I know water is a luxury.' She stirred the noodles a little, then left the cooking area.
Her duties seen to, Hasu slipped outside. She sighed as a cool breeze caressed her, thankful for the chill now after being in the kitchen. She surveyed the ruined world that surrounded her. Mighty skyscrapers that had once inspired awe lay in huge rubble heaps. The lights that had twinkled like stars fallen to earth at this time of night were extinguished. No cars zoomed by on the streets or people walking home, saying quick 'hellos' to others. It was dark and silent. It made Hasu shiver as her mind drifted back to the past.
Some years ago, two androids, inhuman monsters, came from nowhere and began destroying the Earth. She had been blessed, or cursed depending on the viewpoint, to have escaped the attack that originally leveled this city. She had been studying in a local university when all hell had broken loose.
Hasu remembered how frightened she had been when she heard the explosion. She had been alone in one of the classrooms, finishing an assignment, when it happened. She hadn't had time to react, though, as the walls imploded and she was thrown across the room. She had awoken some time later and managed to dig out of the debris. The hours after that were a bit unclear.
Confused and injured, she'd wandered into a shrine that had taken only a small amount of damage. A Buddhist nun, Nobara, had found her and bullied her back to health. The old, wiry woman refused to let her give up. "You die and you will have to start all over again" she would admonish. Hasu had tried to repay the woman by becoming a nun herself and helping with the refugees.
She was a bad nun, and she knew it. Buddha required that she give up all attachment to this world, to rid herself of feeling pain or pleasure. But she couldn't. How could she look upon the dead and wounded without feeling sorrow, or cry at night when her days were filled with the sounds of others' suffering? How could she not empathize with those who had lost family and friends?
After Nobara's death, Hasu had put away her black Buddhist robes and instead donned the white of Shinto. It had felt like a betrayal of her old friend, but it had been a worse betrayal, one against herself, to try and continue to be something she wasn't.
Hasu sighed and shook off the memories. She ran a hand through her short and shaggy brown hair, the last reminder of her time as a nun. The present mattered now, and what she could do to aid the future. Tomorrow she was going to search for water.
She knew what she was planning was dangerous. She had no skills in scouting, she could get herself seriously lost. She also had no fighting skills, though it was her own self that kept her from learning any. But she felt her present contributions to her world were negligible at best. There were only a few left in the infirmary now, like Tsubomi and his mother. And she knew her nursing skills were mostly ones of comfort, though some swore her very touch made them feel better. She shrugged such comments off as results of gratitude and kindness. Everything else she did could easily be done by anyone.
But to help find water...that would be something. She was one of the few who knew just how little fresh water was left. Since she worked in almost every part of the shelter, it hadn't taken long to gain that knowledge. The head organizer had made her swear she wouldn't tell any other refugees. They couldn't afford a panic or riot. She had agreed. Still, it was difficult to see the supply dwindle and to hear constant pleas for more.
"I have to do this," she hissed. "I want to make a difference!" The thought filled her with determination.