サムサラ
Title: Floor Burns
Story Context: This story takes place about 13 years before the original HXH timeline of the Hunter exam begins. Please use your imagination!
Summary: young little girls aren't supposed know so much of the wicked, and yet, she was never a young little girl to begin with.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Yoshihiro Togashi except for my oc, Sakiko.
Staring at the wall, her hands glide across the smooth texture, occasionally running over rough bumps and jagged edges. It's silent in the room and the curtains fully cover the windows, secured tightly though untouched. The golden hue of a bulb is the only light that blankets the room and then it flickers once. And then again, but this time the yellow incandescent completely shuts down, and black shadows envelop the room. There is no coincidence. The bulb had burned out, but wasn't it replaced yesterday?
(She doesn't know how long she's been in this room.)
But if there's one thing she's sure of, it's that she's not supposed to be alive. She is not supposed to exist. But somehow she has made it, creating herself in a world that does not need her. She was born out of lust and desperation. Now she lives in the haze of sinking relief and immediate sadness. She doesn't really know why, but that's okay.
Her father is absent as always, but he does not leave her alone for too long, because he knows she can't survive without him. She can't do anything for herself, and it frustrates her no end. Too many questions and not enough answers when she thinks about this situation.
Never staying in one area for too long, it's too much for her when they're constantly moving from a hotel room to the other. He's not fit to be a father, but he is one. Mistakes, she muses, will always be compensated.
He's tall and muscularly built, and his narrow cheeks and sensual eyes can break many hearts. He's a prodigy in everything he puts his mind to. Essentially he has the potential to be the best in anything he desires. It's just too bad that he's not a man with good morals. His strange clothing matches him perfectly too, peculiar and eerily playful. She doesn't understand the way he acts, or the way he thinks, but she still cares about him all the same.
Sometimes he will come home in the middle of the night giggling manically with eyes full of satisfaction and deceit. Those nights he has a metallic smell of dirt and something else she doesn't know. Those nights he ignores her, and that's probably for the best. And it scares her to no end. Even when her stomach is twisting with hunger and starving for water, or when she soils herself and her diaper is filled uncomfortably, she's quiet in fear that he'll do something to her. She doesn't want to know what that smell is every time he comes home. (It's blood.)
He calls himself Hisoka.
And Sakiko doesn't have a mother. She doesn't understand how she knows what that is, but it's not like that matters. (Dazedly she thinks of a stern and kind woman with dyed curly hair and scowling lips turning into a hidden smile.)
But she only has an absent father, and herself. It's not so bad now that she's able to wander around and take care of herself somewhat, but there are those moments where her father stares at her emptily and his gaze feels menacing. It's as if he's looking at an extraterrestrial being, and maybe he is. He's always telling her how a six month year old shouldn't be able to walk.
At the same time though, he's intrigued and she knows it. The way he grins when she surpasses each milestone is too wide and his eyes shift is too fast. He is her father though, so she doesn't mind. He may be a little odd, but then again, he's all she has.
One night, Hisoka—her father brings a girl to the hotel room and her body is shaking with contempt and true terror. Though he doesn't really spare her any glance, and instead looks at Sakiko adoringly. Her chest twists and her fingers tremble under the heavy gaze. It's not a nice look.
"This woman is going to be your caregiver from now on until I say so." Her father breathes in softly, unfazed by the prospect of another being taking care of his child. He leaves after nodding to both the girls and disappears as quick as he comes.
So the young child nods, curious by the new change. She stares intently at the young lady, who is probably in her teenage years, maybe even around her father's age. Her natural brown hair is long and wispy down to her waist. It's a great change compared to Hisoka, whose hair is dyed a neon pink and slicks unnaturally back. Her unblemished fair skin and light brown eyes hold an act of modesty and full tenderness that Sakiko's never seen before. However it's apparent that she is full of anxiousness and nerves, which makes the little baby frown in confusion.
"Hello caregiver. Name?" She asks with the limited amount of words she knows. The woman laughs a little bit too loud, and sweat is starting to form on her face.
"M-My name is Shurui Abaki. What's yours?" She smiles gently as she bends down to the girl's height. Sakiko proudly displays her full name as Sakiko Morrow, and leads her to her room, which is currently the corner of a hotel bedroom. Shurui Kaori asks her a few questions more, like why are they in a hotel room, where was her mother? But Sakiko doesn't know how to answer her without revealing her dad's red side. (The side where he can't stop laughing with red streaking his palms). So she shrugs absentmindedly and grabs the girl and pushing her knees down, hinting for the girl to sit down with her.
"Why are we in the corner, Sakiko?" The older girl asks openly, staring at the room before her. It's not too small for three people, with a queen size bed in the center, a small lounge chair to the right side of the bed, and the nightstand in the other. In its own simplistic way, it is satisfactory. Sakiko smiles.
"This is my sleeping spot!" She giggles softly and proceeds to lay down with a large blanket toppling most of her body. The rug-covered ground is rough and scratchy, but it's her space, so it's okay. Several seconds pass by, and only silence is returned. When she looks at Shurui Abaki expertly, she stares back at her uneasily. She looks surprised and kind of angry, but she says nothing. The little girl shifts back up uncomfortably.
She whispers quietly, cowering from the fear that she has done something wrong, "Uhm, Shurui Abaki, what's wrong?" And the older girl says nothing, only analyzing her features before sighing, and places her hands on the girl's shoulders. Sakiko gasps at the sudden contact.
"You can just call me Miss Abaki. Do you want me to get you a pillow?" She laughs real happily, and saunters off to the phone dialing the hotel's room service number and humming a slow tune. Dazedly, the little girl stares at her, awkwardly returning the grin.
Compared to her father, it almost too easy to see through Miss Abaki facade, and after a few weeks, she knows every curve of it.
She is very distant and terribly so, but Sakiko is excited to finally see a girl in her life. She's pretty too, so it's nice to look at her features when she doesn't notice. The brunette always has her guard up and never leaves the room, just like her. It's almost as if she's waiting for something, but nothing ever happens. It's quite alarming, but it's... okay.
The little girl always pesters Miss Abaki about the outside world. "What's it like?" she squeals, and the young woman stares at her weirdly, before retelling the same old sentence: "It's nothing special."
Stumped, the younger one squints her eyes annoyed and goes off to the corner of the bed and stares at the wall as Miss Abaki cooks dinner. They don't really have groceries, but she makes it work, and her food is delicious. It's surely a big step from her father's sad excuse of leftovers.
Slowly but surely, Sakiko manages to chip away the walls built in the older woman's heart, and she starts to smile more and actually laugh. Miss Abaki began to be the only other human contact that Sakiko encounters other than her father. So essentially she has become kind of like family, as she is motherly and not too boring to be around.
The beautiful lady speaks bits and pieces of another language, one that is very familiar. It's her mother-tongue, Miss Abaki would say. But in the little girl's heart, this language brought memories of something else. It bothers her that she doesn't know what it is. It is English, a faint voice whispers in the back of her mind, and her chest starts to hurt. Naturally, Sakiko asks Miss Abaki to teach her the language, and she half-heartedly complies.
At first denial is to be expected but the little girl is surprisingly stubborn, using every excuse she knows. Apparently Miss Abaki doesn't mind or doesn't question it because she laughs it off and smiles.
"It's a mix of different languages all together basically," The brunette explained while folding her baby clothes, "It will not be easy."
She shakes her head in disagreement, but stays silent as she takes out her paper and pen. It can not be as hard as learning Japanese, she thought.
"Okay. To start off, let's learn how to count..."
(Wai duz thes sem famelear?)
Abaki gave her lessons everyday. It was grueling and sometimes too much for her brain to comprehend as more memories began to evade her mind, from her former life.
It's been a long time, the soft voice lingers in the depths of her mind.
(Why does this seem familiar?)
She remembers how she had two other siblings, and parents who adored them. She remembers how she was wealthy enough to live in a very nice house and go to private school in her early childhood years. And she remembers that she is not actually a little girl, but a teenager.
And it doesn't take long for the pale toddler to finally learn the language.
Sakiko is now three. Her stomach churns in distaste but she ignores the sadness in her body and smiles bitterly. What are birthday parties, and birthday cakes? How is this even possible?
The night terrors of her death replays again and again, but she never remembers them. Despite the cold chills and sweat drenching her back, she wants to remember it. "Why can't I remember it?" She sobs as Miss Abaki holds her tightly. The tears don't stop until hours after she wakes up, and Hisoka hasn't showed up in days.
(Why is she even remembering in the first place?)
Her angelic voice is soothing and brings peace in every way possible. Her lullaby, her voice—everything about Miss Abaki is gentle, and Sakiko feels so grateful. She's glad that she has something more than intrigued stares and cold eyes taking care of her. But the older woman never gets any sleep, and the guilt always gnaws at her heart everytime she sees her dozing off.
But then Sakiko sees a man in the dark, warm room. He's not her father, but he is tall and wears weird clothes like him. His blank cold stare lingers to Miss Abaki, but it's mostly directed at the little girl.
Who are you? She asks quietly, but her voice doesn't waver and she's left staring back at the cold tall man in the dark warm room.
"Who are you?" He says back, stepping into her corner space as she gasps. There's a circular round thing acting as his tummy, and that long wispy mustache underneath his curving smile.
"How did you do that?" She whispers, but then he laughs out loud at her face and holds his mustache smiling.
"You can't hide thoughts from Time." His voice is high and scolding, but at the same time it's funny and she can't help but giggle at him.
Her eyes flicker to the lines and sharp corners at the edges of the circle moving with the rhythmic 'click', "What is that thing on your tummy?"
He stares at her weirdly before twirling around and pointing at his thing in shock, "Do you not know what this is? It's a clock!"
"What's a clo—"
"Oh my goodness how stupid can a person actually be? A clock is a way to keep track of time. It's my stomach in case you didn't know."
"Why?"
"Well..."
And suddenly she's made a friend with a man with a clock as a stomach and it's not so lonely anymore.
But it's strange how Abaki never sees him and she cowers in the bathroom hiding when Sakiko starts talking to Mr. Time. What is she so afraid of? It's not like he's scary.
Every time Sakiko's father comes back, It's always the same.
He will come back from his long absences, smelling of sweat, soap or blood of whoever was his latest kill. No matter if it's been a week or a day, he'll always return with his bubbly self. His skin might be paler than normal, or it might be riddled with cuts and bruises, temporarily concealed by his clothes. He might even be wearing some new fashion style he's fallen in love with. The two girls are ever so quiet everytime he barges through the door that a pin is a knife colliding with the floor.
He smirks as always and snatches the girl from Miss Abaki's clutches, and she yelps in terror. Sakiko stays there frozen but lets him do what he wants, and he locks the door of the hotel room again. He says something to the older woman, and her face is more pale than normal. She slowly treads to the bathroom door, and the only thing she hears is a loud click, while Hisoka sighs contently.
He'll always be here for the same reasons.
He'll introduce himself back into the little girl's life with a smile and a wave, as if coming back from a hard day's work. Inviting Sakiko to a little get together at the table in the opposite corner of her sleep space, and since there's only one chair so she kneels. Her knees burn.
There he'll treat her to the most expensive thing on the menu—the one where strange people come in, wear the same clothes, and shakily supply them food—and later he'll give a souvenir he'd stolen for her. And she'll oh, and ah at it, and actually appreciate it, not just saying thanks to avoid looking ungrateful. She's not aloud to look beyond the hotel room.
From then on the conversation will start. He'll tell Sakiko about his 'work'. He'll show her the pictures on his phones of the people he's meant to assassinate, but instead he plays with until they're dead. He'll show her the pictures of him traveling the area in his free time. Show her the adventures he's had, painting the tales with his vivid words and sparkling recollections, with photos of his dead opponents as recounting proof.
Then he'll tell her about his latest conquests in bed if any, and she'll try not to grimace and feel sick by his words, and at the men and women who had spent intimate moments with him. But the little girl will always listen intently to everything he says, because he is the beacon to the outside world. She understands that he's only ever had her as a person to speak with. And so she lets him talk.
"I hope one day I'll come with you," Sakiko whispers as she stares at the door behind him.
He rests his elbow on the small round table as he plays with his cards, "Maybe when you're actually strong. I can't let you slow me down, you know." Sakiko stares at him as a tiny bit of anger begins to bubble up. But she quickly shoves those feelings down too ashamed because, what kind of disgusting child is so selfish to her creator?
"Make me stronger then," she shrugs nonchalant. He smiles a little but continues to ignore her for a few minutes. They enjoy the little peace that comes between them and relish in it for awhile longer.
"I won't be able to until you're at least ten," He looks annoyed at that and she can finally understand why. Wasted years on someone who can potentially be his greatest fight in the future. "I'm sure that you'll be able to endure it in this age considering that you are my offspring," he continues, "but Abaki wants you to develop for several more years until I train you."
Abaki? When did he start listening to Miss Abaki? She stares at him weirdly, like he is a strange creature, "Since when did you two become friendly?"
A breeze sweeps past them both and chills find its way to Sakiko, but her father is still as always. He looks towards her in an odd way, as if he finally noticed too, "I guess she's not as dense as I thought."
She twists nastily, and pops form from the spine of her back. The conversation is nearing its end, and Sakiko is drowning in a fit of pique. She doesn't want to stat in this four cornered room. It's boring, so boring, even with Miss Abaki there. She wants to stall him, ask him more about his escapades, do anything for more time to convince—but he's already told her everything, and he won't repeat himself. He'll send her back to her corner in this boring room with a smile on his face as he watches her cry silently.
Her father's not really nice, but, how would she know?
Update: 02/24/19
OKAY. So... I haven't looked at this story in a loooong time (I think five months? Maybe more?) but I've rewritten some things and the next chapter will be up in a week, I think. Don't quote me on that, it might actually be earlier, so keep your eyes peeled. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! MESSAGE ME PRIVATELY TO GIVE ME SOME IDEAS IF YOU'D LIKE? Love you all,
Sister M.
