The screech of a car horn sent him flying back, floating a few feet off the ground. He managed to keep a grip on his mp3 player, its song blasting in his ears. Said car's driver shouted back some obscenities that 96 couldn't quite make out, and he motioned an equally crude hand gesture. Such actions were probably beneath him. Probably.
Had he been in a slightly chipper mood, he might have allowed it to hit him, make a big, dramatic scene out of this idiot running over an immortal. That was something he had done once or twice in the last few decades, and it was always good for a laugh, even if he was the only one who found it funny. Today, however, he was not in such high spirits.
Rolling his eyes, he waited to see the light officially change before turning the volume up and making his way across. His bad mood had started around lunch time that day. Normally, he found solace in the rec room's high volume, but this particular day, some moron, new to the factory, had taken to do the announcements, and managed to set off the microphone, producing a shrill much too loud even by the Number's standards, and he had developed a headache.
Or at least he called them 'headaches', everyone around him who he had ever bothered describing to said they were migraines. But that was this horrible, unbearable pain, and his experience had simply been that light, sound, movement, and basically everything made it all the more intense. A chug of painkillers and a five-hour nap later, and he'd be good as new.
Takeda had offered to drive him, but 96 had refused – he would probably turn off his radio, and keep the ride as quiet as possible, in order to not exacerbate his head. That was the absolute last thing he needed.
It was a frivolous notion, since he could simply fly over all of this, the rules of the air being much more lenient to the few Barians and Astralians who possessed the ability of flight. But it wasn't prudent for him, personally.
The noise was all down on the surface level.
At least his apartment wasn't too far from the factory; soon, he was unlocking the door. The place had only two rooms – a spot for a bed, and a bathroom. He didn't like being tied down by human inventions such as money, but having survived for so long, he knew exactly what he could and could not get by without.
Besides, he cared even less for the stares and the questions. Numbers were supposed to be well-off, just like the Barians and Astralians who paraded the earth. Those days where he absolutely did not feel like explaining his long, long, complicated history – or those days where he didn't even feel like telling these nosy people to fuck off – it was nice to retreat back to his tiny corner.
Plugging in his mp3, he let it play on speaker, filling the room with an instrumental song by some Astral artist whose name escaped him at the moment. He liked to think he wasn't biased, but he would admit to favoring songs without lyrics, particularly ones not written by humans. There was a time when he could tolerate otherwise, and if given the chance, he wouldn't oppose to reminiscing in certain musicals of the past, if all for the sake of nostalgia, but in this current state, he couldn't bring himself to listen to these mortals complain about trivial manners.
He grabbed at his painkillers, a half-empty water bottle and container of salt sitting atop his mini-fridge, and turned to head into the bathroom. After filling the bottle, he poured a generous helping of salt into it, gave it a shake, then gulped away as the pills slid down his throat. Holding the container to his nose, he took in a few breaths, letting the scent rise into his nostrils.
Then, he pressed the plug for the sink down, sealing it. Leaning forward, he dumped the rest of the contents along the back of his head, keeping his eyes tightly shut as he felt the satisfying drops linger down passed his cheeks. Once the bottle had emptied, he let it fall to the ground, then made a grab for the handle and blasted it, letting the fresh water rinse through his hair.
He kept his hands firmly planted against the sides, and when he finally felt it going off the edge and spilling over on the floor, he drove his head up, gasping deeply. Granted, a creature like him didn't need to breathe, but in instances of extremities, it simply felt good – more organic, for lack of better construct – to swallow in the air around him.
Quickly, he shut off the sink. His landlord would throw a fit if he didn't get it cleaned up before water damage set in, but his migraine still pierced away and he was much too tired to care. So, after unplugging and watching it drain, he threw his only towel down on the floor, allowing it to soak up whatever it managed to. Twisting his hair to get the last few drops out, he hovered to his bed.
He laid there, trying not to think too hard because even thinking worsened his condition… and he didn't necessarily mean the migraine. He reached down to the corner of his bed where a conch shell lay, and brought it to his side, tracing over the edges a few times before finally placing it up to his ear.
It was a cliché, and an inaccurate one, but he could remember when it first started going around – a shell to the ear, and hear the ocean. He understood where the notion had come from, although it had been so long since he last properly heard the crashing of the waves, the push and pull of the sea, that even the reflective noise of his own pulse seemed a decent replicate.
Substitutions were all he had, anymore.
His eyes had naturally started to shut, when from behind closed lids, he noticed the lights beginning to flicker. Muttering a choice word or two – he hadn't intended on dozing off while keeping them on – he stepped up to turn them off when he was suddenly surrounded by darkness. Then he cursed a little louder.
Placing a hand onto his head, he felt it pulsate into his palm before a realization had washed over him – he had neglected to charge his mp3 player. So enwrapped in the conch shell and momentarily distracted by the lights, it hadn't dawned on him just how quiet it had become.
Rushing over, he yanked the player from the speakers to inspect the batteries. When the screen refused to even turn on, he threw it against his bed, seeing the reflective glass bounce in the glint of the moonlight.
A wave of nausea swept over him, and he leant against the wall for balance, trying to assure himself that he was in the middle of a busy city… even if this particular location was remote, there should still be people up and about somewhere close by.
The sun had only just set, the night was young. Downstairs neighbors moved along, their stifled shuffling bringing some form of comfort. He should be fine, at least for a few hours. He should be fine.
He began to tap his fingers as a means of resolving the issue, but he knew how temporary these actions were. His back was pressed against the wall, and he looked forward, out his window, passed the streets, passed the city, to where the ocean waited.
His breathing picked up again, as he felt sweat begin to pool up and run down the back of his neck, wondering, as he did often, how long he could stay here, when he could, in fact, be waiting a very long time. Not just this room, but the island as a whole.
He jumped back onto his bed and pulled his window open, a cool breeze hitting him in the face. The distant sound of car horns and trains passing by was enough to allow him a sigh of relief. He dropped onto his pillows, and without turning his head to look, he felt around for his conch shell and placed it back to his ear, trying to fall asleep.
"You look like crap."
96 chuckled at the comment. He had a fondness for people who didn't mince words.
"Couldn't sleep." Was his reply, already sitting next to a plug with his mp3 charging.
Takeda grimaced. "Oh god, and with that migraine?"
He handed over a coffee to the Number, while simultaneously taking a drink of his own. 96 accepted, blowing within the tiny hole in the lid as a means to cool it down, before ultimately pressing it to his forehead and finally allowing his eyes to shut.
"Oi!" Takeda snapped, forcing his eyes back open. "Shift starts in fifteen!"
"Then lemme rest for five…" he retorted, only half joking and not bothering to remove the container from his head.
Takeda sat down next to him. "You seem to be getting a lot of migraines lately…?"
"Can't sleep." He repeated, and took a long sip of coffee, in a vain attempt to excuse himself from talking. But he knew Takeda was going to keep pestering him, and he didn't have the energy this morning to fight it. "My music died last night."
"Ah," his friend nodded.
Takeda was aware of a few aspects that did and did not matter to 96. For example, they had long been over the discussion of him not technically "needing" sleep for survival's sake, but like all creatures, eventual rest was required, and too much stress wasn't good for anything.
"Do you have a TV or computer to play for background noise?"
"Nope." Another long swig.
"Well there's plenty of background noise things for that. Apps, playlists…" Takeda replied, as if he knew much more in the two decades he'd been alive than this creature who was centuries old did.
"I don't have a phone."
"I have an old tablet I'm looking to sell, actually."
96 snorted. Of course he did. Takeda had been the one to explain "apps" to him in the first place – for a while, he had misinterpreted as everyone saying asps and that somehow snakes had become quite popular.
"You should try ASMR."
"The hell is that?"
Takeda scratched at the back of his head. "Ah, I don't remember what the acronym stands for, but it's basically different sounds that activate 'triggers' in our brains? It's kinda like a diet hypnosis."
Humans were always inventing the strangest things to try and make their lives more advance. He couldn't totally fault them – they were the reason anything ever changed in this world. Immortals were painfully slow in those regards.
But anything was better than spending another night lying in bed, brain completely wracked with terror.
"How much were you hoping to sell it for?"
It didn't take him long to adjust his new toy, although his fingers slipped a few times while typing. There also had been the issue of setting up wi-fi, but fortunately his neighbor had a strong signal and an easily cracked password. The lights were still out, making the bright screen the only thing which illuminated his surroundings.
And just like that, he was lying on his bed, tablet in hands, trying to find a video that would apparently help him to sleep. He scrolled along, glancing at thumbnails of what was mostly women with incense and crystals, until he crossed one that caught his eye.
She was Astralian, first one he had spotted, and that alone was enough to entice him into clicking. But her video also came with a theme, entitled "Nights by the Ocean ASMR – whispering, sand, water, tapping."
Glancing down at her username, it simply read 'Ena.'
Plugging in his headphones, he went ahead and pressed the thumbnail, waiting for the video to load. It started off in what appeared to be a beach house kitchen, with a table in front, sink and counter in back, and a large, opened window, letting in the sound of the sea. 96 shivered.
From a distance, the sound of footsteps could be heard, and he shot up to glance over his shoulder. It took him a moment to realize it was from within the video. She must have been using a 3D microphone.
Then there she was. This bright, beautiful Astral woman, with a bowl in her hands, as she gently placed it onto the table, pulling from it a bottle of water, some shells, and finally, a handful of sand, which she allowed to slip through her fingers and back inside.
She repeated this action a few times before looking straight at the camera. With her eyes being devoid of pupils, 96 couldn't tell just where exactly her gaze directed at. He shifted a little on his bed, but no matter which way he turned, she seemed to be staring completely on him.
"Good evening." She whispered, leaning to the side, speaking directly into one of her microphones, and her words were so clear and crisp, that he could practically feel her lips against his ear. He momentarily forgot what was going on, lost in thought about the last time someone had gently whispered into his ear, until she continued. "Welcome to my little corner. I hope you are all doing well this evening, and are ready for a journey into relaxation and comfort."
She pressed her hands against her chest at this point, and 96 found himself nodding. She picked up one of her shells and tapped her fingers along it, the sound being produced echoed around him, sending tingles along the back of his head, down his neck. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and his shoulder droop.
"The ocean is such a beautiful creature," she continued. Her words came out slow, with a particular emphasis on each one, almost giving it a rhythm, as she continued to tap at the shell. All the while, the sound of the sea in the background softly reminded 96 of its presence. "She gives us so much. There is so, so much life in the ocean. Even this little shell, was once a home."
He was half tempted to reach over for his own conch shell.
"There's nothing I like better," she said, placing it down and running her fingers into the sand. He shivered again, not even realizing how used to the tapping he had become until it stopped. "Then walking along on the beach, on a day when it's not too hot, not too cold, but just right. And to watch the waves, pull in and out…"
She was silent for a moment, allowing the sea's light song to take over. He closed his eyes, imagining the wind in his face once more, the slight tang of the salt, and the tiny droplets hitting against his skin as the waves hit along the rocks resting ashore. The contrast between the hot sun and the cool water.
"It is so peaceful…" she continued, speaking into one microphone, moving along to the other, 96 feeling her presence all around. "We live in such a busy world, it is good, it is healthy, to take some time and relax… to allow the waters to take you in… and feel it against your feet as you walk into the waves."
Moving to rest his head into his arms, he slipped further and further from consciousness.
"It's so peaceful… so calm… to let the waters take you in…"
She took a few deep breaths, and he felt himself breathing alongside her. He heard her start pouring and splashing the water, presumably from the bottle she had been carrying, but he couldn't be bothered to raise his head and check. Every muscle in his body was slacked and loose, he wasn't sure if he could move.
Soon she was whispering again, but he could hardly make out her words, so lost in the sounds of the ocean.
She was in his dream that night. Her soft-spoken tone drew him near, then silenced once her face was in view, and she held out her arms. She went to wrap them around him, but he pushed back.
The expression on her face was hurt, and that made his insides sink, but he couldn't stop his instincts. He didn't want to upset this person, however, someone who had comforted him in a way he never had before.
First experiences were important to immortals.
So, he went to make a reach for her hands, and held them up, together, getting used to the feel of her. This made her smile, and he wanted to let this moment hang in the air.
With her.
She seemed to understand. Without speaking, he knew that she was aware of what he was going through. That's why she had made those videos, wasn't it? To help fellow immortals rest.
Water shifted under their feet then, and he quickly let go of her and spun around. But she placed a hand on his cheek, and moved his gaze back to her. She tilted her head and smiled, and he didn't fight it. He let her continue to rub her fingers along his skin, before he moved in.
Her arms did wrap around him at that point, pulling him close, and he relaxed into her grip.
It rained the following day. 96 made it a point to balance himself out against his windowsill, and let it pour down on him. He had always loved the rain. It sent people indoors, but created its own little white noise. Such a fair trade-off.
Back in the day, he used to drift along the ocean while it rained, as if in a sense to mock the tiny droplets landing back into its origins. It didn't matter if he was submerged or not, but he enjoyed the small tingles.
He sighed, thinking about the good old days. He hadn't even realized they were "good old days". Days like that weren't supposed to ever end, not for him.
There was a time, when this world was nothing but the ocean. People like his father, and other ancient ones, higher up in the evolutionary scale, believed they could bring order and structure to it. But those creatures were far more wild and vicious, and they would not be ruled. So, the gods had created land – to escape from it.
Back when 96 was on the good – all be it shaky – graces with these higher-ups, he had his own piece of land with his own creatures who served him. It was fun at first, all he ever thought he could want. Until he discovered the sea, and what it offered that land could not.
Freedom.
When there was a world with no ruling, no laws, there was nothing which couldn't be done. No taming, no set-backs. No father's discipline. He had never caused too much damage, looking back on it now, but he had cared more deeply for a large body of water, this single mass entity, far more than any god or person who had ever come into his life.
What he would give to feel the cold, sting of its waters lapping at him again. To dive deep down into unexplored caverns, to see the greatest creatures this earth had to offer again. All the splendid wonders and mysteries of the ocean.
He shivered, and he knew it wasn't from the cold, but he headed back inside all the same, not caring if he got his sheets wet. His towel was still sitting in the bathroom corner, damp, so he resolved to lie in his shower for a bit to air dry.
It was extremely cramped, being just a one-person shower, but he would manage. He brought the tablet in with him, planning on listening to more of Ena while he sat around. He browsed through her channel a bit, and noticed her subscriber count – a couple hundred thousand. Unaware of what exactly that meant in the grand scheme of things, he assumed that indicated she was reasonably popular.
Something in him sank at the consideration – as if they had shared something private, and intimate, and there were other people, other immortals, there intruding on it.
Ena didn't even know his name.
Rolling his eyes at his own immaturity, 96 decided to click on the one closest to his thumb and it began to load.
The video opened up with her standing in the same room, splashing around slowly in a large bowl of water. He looked down and read in the title that this one included no vocals. Disappointing.
All the same, he closed his eyes and let his head rest against the glass wall, letting the sound of the water echo around the tight space. Ena started motioning her hands to mimic swimming, and 96 felt his hands twitch.
He recalled a time when Takeda had invited him to a pool, but 96 had declined. It was one thing to drench his head, or listen to the rain, but if his entire body was submerged once more in water, in any body of water… he wasn't sure he could resist the urge.
A drop from the shower head above splashed against his forehead, as if to mock him further. He looked up and smiled, bitterly.
"Have it your way, then…" he replied, picking up his tablet and opening the shower. His body was more or less dried off, but he decided to head back in after setting the device on his bed. He shut the glass door and turned the knob, lukewarm water pouring down him as he stood there with arms wrapped around his shoulders, leaning against the wall.
Trying to keep his thoughts off of the past, he decided to shift his focus on Ena. He didn't know her. The statement was obvious, but it really sunk in how he did not know her. Which was odd, since Astralians were few and far in between. But he rationalized – it wasn't possible to know every civilian personally, and it had been such a long time.
But what that truly meant was that she probably did not know him, either. Or his past. Perhaps, he could try reaching out to her. He immediately chuckled at the thought. What would he even say to the poor girl? She was most likely on the other side of the world, comfortable in her own little shack, she wouldn't want to be bothered.
Still, maybe he could send a message of gratitude, or simply leave a nice comment. Basic things like that, she was sure to appreciate. Then she would create more content. It was a win-win.
The water continued to run, until the showerhead began to sputter. Cursing quietly, 96 went to reach up and clank against it. The head was up much higher than anticipated, and in such a rush, his first instinct was to jump up and grab at it. His hand clenched around and pulled it down.
Pulled down…
He had reached up for the surface… when that thing had grabbed him. 96 slammed into the wall, just barely catching himself from collapsing. His breathing went rugged as he thought back to that night.
He could still feel it around his ankle. Those cold, slimy fingers.
Getting ahold of his soap, he fell to his knees, furiously rubbing away at his ankle. He had done this so many times before, but he never felt like that hand was truly gone. Like some part of its skin had integrated into his, burrowing inside him.
Throwing the soap aside, he went to scratch away, until eventually purple liquid began to spill down and mixed with the water. Whatever part of that thing which remained was going down the drain. That's what he always told himself. He bit his lip, making his hands into fists and letting the sting heat up his leg.
The water was cold by the time he got out.
"You look well-rested for a change," Takeda remarked the next morning. He still handed over a second coffee, most likely out of anticipation for different outcomes. "Did the ASMR thing work out, then?"
96 took the container from his hand, pulling an earbud out, and gave a light smile as he nodded. He wasn't even in the mood to be snarky – despite yesterday's panic attack, a few more hours with Ena had managed to calm him down.
Takeda grinned. "Good, I'm happy for you!"
He was glad his friend wasn't the type of human to brag whenever proven right, but rather just took quiet satisfaction in the fact that his advice had been helpful.
"I didn't realize so much stimulation could happen through sound alone…" 96 confessed.
"Yeah, it's pretty amazing… who did you end up listening to?"
"Ena."
Takeda scrunched his face. "Hmm… don't know that one. But, it's been a while since my ASMR days. Used to listen to this girl named Hanazoe back in school. She does flower-themed videos, and…"
"Uh-huh…" 96 replied, placing down the coffee he had yet to drink, and reached into his bag. Takeda made some form of protest, asking if that was really the smartest thing to have a tablet in the company rec room, but he simply turned it on and opened the web browser. He flipped through until he managed to find one of the videos from last night.
"There, that's her!"
His friend leaned in and peered over, nodding slightly in approval. "She's pretty. You like Astral girls then, huh?"
"I like people my own age." He winked, and Takeda grimaced.
It was then that he noticed the 'subscription' button again. He set up an account, typing in the number 96 over and over again until it was finally accepted, and went right ahead and clicked.
"Ocean themed… her place doesn't look local, at least not from the thumbnail…any idea where she's from?"
"Huh?" 96 was caught off-guard by the question. He turned down and inspected. "I don't know, Hawaii, maybe?
The beach behind her looked island-based, and the palm trees combined with the lack of roads or fences, she had to either live in a very remote area or on her privately-owned island. That wouldn't be uncommon, considering she was of Astral World.
"Oh, yeah, I can see that…" Takeda inspected. "I've never been. Have you?"
"I've been everywhere."
He sighed deeply, gazing down at Ena's image on the screen, how at peace she seemed. He could imagine her finding enlightenment through years of calm, sweet isolation. And then, decided she should share some part of that peace, and thanks to modern technology, found a way to do it without ever once having to leave home.
He could imagine she lived a life without any form of stress, without any sense of time, even, just an existence, with a little bit of meaning to it, when she pleased. He admired that, admired her.
He wanted her approval.
"Could you repeat that?" He perked up, realizing Takeda had been asking him a question.
His friend cleared his throat, attempting to conceal his slight annoyance. "You've been in Japan for a while now. Why did you stop traveling?"
The answer to that was long and complicated, and 96 caught himself wondering how it is he opened himself up to mortals, how he could let himself be vulnerable to creatures far beneath him. But as he gazed down at Ena, someone who was reaching out a hand, helping people she would never even once meet, he realized that they would never be able to help it.
Eternity was far longer than any mortal could possibly comprehend. Even when presented with the idea, they never truly come to know the weight of it. How lonely it can become.
Theirs was a temporary relationship, something 96 would eventually look back on fondly long after Takeda was dead and gone. But as the years pass by and time slips away without hesitation, this human would never know how much these little conversations have actually meant to 96. How a 'fond memory' was sometimes all they had to hold onto.
"I don't have a choice." He switched the tablet off, and allowed himself to go back.
That night was still so clear to him. The calm waves gently pulling him along, a time when he didn't care where they landed him, back when warnings had no meaning, when he heard the song…
"This world used to be more ocean than land, you know…" he began. "The earth itself fears how powerful she is. There's no order there, you know? No law to the sea… none that can be brought to it, at any rate. Humans used to think the Earth was flat, and that the sea was this seemingly endless abyss – but knowing the shape of the planet didn't make a difference. Didn't matter how many times you went around it – the sea was endless, and without mercy." He turned to look at Takeda, shaking his head slightly. "Can you imagine? Gods being made to feel small by their own creation?"
His friend nodded at the appropriate times, and 96 appreciated it, even though he was certain Takeda probably had only the vaguest idea on what he was talking about.
"There were two options then, for us – either stay on the land and rule, or go to the sea and venture into all its rough, wild ways. And, well – "he chuckled. "Turns out I'm not very good at that first one."
Takeda didn't know the full details on 96's falling out, but he also knew not to ask.
"The sea and I were soulmates. I could travel her by ship, but during those times when I couldn't manage to find a crew, I'd merely swim. Discover all her creatures – some are in your science books today. Much smaller, much… less... than what they used to be. Some you've never heard or seen, and I choose to keep their identities to myself. If they want to be known, they'll make it happen…" Takeda's eyes widened at that remark, and 96 couldn't help but smirk. It was so amusing to watch mortals realize how large this world of theirs was.
"But some… some… you have heard of, but chose instead to put them in mythology books, and chock them up to the misinformation of romantic sailors. I think it just makes you all feel safer."
Takeda held up 96's coffee, which was chilled at this point, and he went to take a long sip. The bell went off, signally that it was time for their shifts to begin, but Takeda didn't rise – he simply shook his head and then made direct eye contact, letting him know that it was alright to continue.
"It had been such a typical night for me, really… some more time letting the waves carry me along. I felt so invincible in those days…" He laughed again, but much throatier, from deeper within him, as if forcing out the laughter would make up for the cracks in his voice. "They always warn you. Gods fearing their own creations. But I never created anything. Just floating along, with no real purpose. And then…"
How was it he had come to live so long, only to be sitting in a factory rec room, describing this night to a human? How had his life come to this?
"The mythical creatures…?" Takeda intercepted, cutting off 96's train of thought. "What did you mean by that – you ran into the Kraken, or mermaids or something?"
His tone was completely deadpan as he spoke. "Sirens."
Takeda's eyes went wide.
"Do you know why it is exactly they lure sailors into their deaths?" His friend shook his head again. "It's the souls. Sirens live to steal the life source from others. Humans are easier to entice, but they can only sustain them for so long. Can you imagine the temptation of an immortal soul?"
"So, you…?"
96 brought his hands up to his neck, pressing against it, remembering the cold, clammy skin being wrapped around him, scraping away roughly, pulling him under. The siren couldn't simply drown him like it had with sailors, but still it pulled, deeper into the ocean.
"I heard its song…" he continued, staring into the wall across from him, but he wasn't looking at it. He was back in that dark pit of water, fighting and kicking, scratching away at its claws. "I didn't even think anything of it, can you imagine? I heard the music and I didn't even find it strange… I just let it lull me in…it was so beautiful, I didn't even notice…"
He had grabbed at the siren's wrist, trying desperately to yank it from him, but its grip was one which had slain a thousand souls before him. His vision was clouded from the murky water, yet he could just barely make out its figure – its skin covered in algae and coral bits, hair either covered so completely in seaweed, or it was simply made of the plant. And its bright, sharp teeth, glistening ever so slightly in the hastily fading moonlight.
Those were the last things he saw as it pulled itself upward, facing him directly, and planted those cold, bitter lips against his; the taste of salt and decay filled his mouth as he felt the creature start to drain him.
Back in the rec room, 96 moved his hands from his neck to his lips, shivering against his flesh.
His leg began to sting.
"I could feel my soul leaving… I could feel this thing eating me…"
It had been intense, as if a limb had been ripped off and discarded – but rather than the pain being centered on one location, he felt it grow stronger throughout his entire body. Every movement accentuating his agony, and his thrashings began to still.
He was dying in this thing's arms and he could feel every second of it.
Here in the present, 96 brought his legs up, folding his arms and resting into his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.
"I don't recall how I managed to get away… I think there was a rough current, or even another predator around… at any rate, it loosened its grip, and I kicked it off before swimming back up to the surface. I tried flying, but I was so weak…"
"It's not your fault…"
His muscles had been unbearably sore, yet he forced them into action, forced them to move at a speed he could hardly reach even on his best days. He remembered the waves bellowing up and crashing down on him, keeping him from moving forward, as if the ocean itself was trying to force him back. He wanted to scream, he wanted to curse, he wanted to lie down and pass out.
"I could still hear it, it just kept singing at me! I swam and I swam and I could still hear its song!" He pressed down on his ears hard, the sound of his music from the remaining earbud pounded against them.
Something in its song had distracted him, momentarily, from the pain his body was in. It called out to him, a lifeline in this hell, and he remembered wanting to turn back and rush into its false, sweet embrace.
"And it kept getting louder, louder! I knew this thing was chasing me, coming closer, but I was exhausted, and the waves were hitting against me, and its fucking song was tempting me to come back…!"
"96." Takeda repeated firmly. "It was not your fault."
There was a knock on the door, causing them both to startle.
"Oi, get on the floor you two –!" Came the order, then the person eyed them up and down. "Everything ok in here…?"
"We'll be right out." Takeda waved his hand. Taking the hint, their co-worker exited.
96 breathed deeply, and put his hands to the floor and started tapping his fingers, trying to relax his nerves.
"You ended up here." Takeda went on. "And since this is an island…"
"I thought maybe I could fly high enough… or that the invention of airplanes would help… but every time I get close to the ocean…"
His tapping increased as he sat there with his eyes closed, breathing in and out. It sunk in just how trapped he truly was. This island had been a sanctuary that night only.
Takeda placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze. 96 didn't resist, but it did make him perk up a little. In the short time he had known this man, he didn't think the two had ever really touched.
"This siren…" his friend said. "It can't possibly live forever, right? Maybe it'll die in time, or go to another soul…"
96 chuckled bitterly. "You don't understand how long a small piece of eternity is, do you? It ate a part of me, Takeda."
"You still hear it, then?"
"Only if it's quiet enough." He picked up his mp3 player, checking its battery life.
And he realized there was nothing left to explain. It was out in the open.
Talking hadn't solved the problem, hadn't killed this creature, hadn't freed him in anyway. But he almost felt like there could be a logical way out of this mess. A part of him accepted that Takeda was right – this would not last forever.
He had escaped that night. He was still here. He was alive.
Some aspect of this had ended.
He placed a hand over Takeda's, which was still on his shoulder, and looked into his eyes. "Thank you."
"You look exhausted," he commented. "Why don't you take the day off?"
96 agreed. This discussion had taken quite a toll on him.
"It's funny…" he replied. "I don't think I ever slept before that night. Sometimes I think evolution forced us to develop a need for it. There's no real difference between night and day. There's no time, it's not a new week, a new month… doesn't matter how many years have passed, it's all the same. But sleep… makes it feel as if you've left some part behind. Like something new waits ahead. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah…" his friend replied, a little shakily, and 96 smiled. "I'll drive you home."
He got back to his apartment and dove head first into the bed. Latching onto the sheets and pulling them close, he took in their scent. They were cool and soft to the touch, wrapping around his fingers so gently. Turning over, his eyes caught sight of the conch shell laying not too far from him, but strangely, he had no temptation to pick it up.
There was simply no need to hold it to his ear, to go wash his throat with more salt water, or anything else to get his fix. He didn't feel the same longing for the sea that he had even just last night. Sure, he still wanted to go back, that would always be the case, but he wasn't aching to go.
There was something comforting about that.
Sighing deeply, he reached over where his bag had landed, and pulled out his tablet, turning it on. He was alerted that he had received a new piece of e-mail, but he paid it no mind. He opened his internet browser and switched over to watch more of Ena.
Clicking onto her channel, a flutter of excitement went through him as he saw she had a new video uploaded. He hadn't checked to see when her last one had gone up, but he didn't expect new content so soon.
96 couldn't help but laugh at himself for getting so worked up over her. She made a living by making other people feel good. Her personality was most likely a façade, similar to escorts and the like.
She was very good at what she did, however.
The thumbnail was a generic, almost blurred shot of herself, and didn't reveal anything about the theme, so he glanced over and read the title.
Something in him went on edge as he did.
"Please watch this, Number 96."
He peered around, as if the answers were written on his walls rather than sitting in his lap. There couldn't have been too high a risk of getting a virus just from clicking on a public video, he hoped, and honestly didn't care too much if he lost this tablet. All the same, he was wary.
Seeing no other alternative, he went ahead and did as she instructed.
There she stood, center of the shot. No trinkets could be seen, and her window was shut, meaning no soft whispers of the ocean crept into her house, and despite himself, the silence was starting to make him uneasy. Any calm aura she usually possessed was gone, as she stood motionless, staring harshly at her camera.
Finally, she spoke.
"Hello everyone." Her voice sounded almost out of breath. He noticed her shaking ever so slightly. "I apologize for how rushed this video may seem, but you see, I received a very special subscriber today, and I couldn't wait to call out and share my thoughts with him."
He felt the hairs on his body rise, but he still continued to watch. She inhaled deeply, and a sliver of her calm nature began to return.
"The ocean, as we know, gives us so much. Everything is alive within the ocean – its plants, its coral… but in order to maintain life, sometimes life needs to be given up." She fought back smiling before eventually allowing it to creep across her face. "Like the hungry whale that comes to eat krill, or the beautiful angler fish, luring in its prey with its lustrous light."
A portion of her hair fell over her face, and when she went to move it away, she paused for the briefest moment. Her voice cracked as he heard what was undeniably a chuckle. "Or like the sailors who come in and take millions and millions of fish. You see? You understand – it's all part of nature."
He did understand. He understood exactly what her point was, but that didn't calm him in the slightest.
"So, Number 96… it's been a long time."
Everything in him froze.
He tried to raise his hand, to shut the video down, and hurl the tablet out his window. But he couldn't. He was internally screaming for his body to move but it stayed in place.
"I've been waiting for you. Did you really think you could escape? Or that we fellow ancients wouldn't come to understand the advancements in technology?"
He comprehended her words, the same way any common place knowledge was absorbed, but the weight of them did not sink in. She had found him.
No…
He had led her right to him. Just as he had let himself drift willingly and unprotected into uncharted waters, now he had left himself open and vulnerable for her hunting abilities.
Vaguely, Takeda's words floated in the back of his mind saying 'it's not your fault' but it was. He knew the dangers going in, and yet he still tempted it. He fell victim to a parasite which had nothing real about them – just an illusion of luxury.
He could see Ena for what she was now. He could see the mold and grime under her make-up, the seaweed sticking out from her wig. And those eyes which stared right through him. Even across the limitations of locations, she was looking at him. The memory of his soul, his taste, she failed at concealing her intense hunger.
"Come back to me, my love…" she went on, outstretching her hands so they went passed the screen's confines. "We can finally be together…! Join me, come swim in the ocean with me again! Be mine forever!"
It was then that he felt a tingling sensation, and realized it was his hand trembling, as he regained some semblance of control over his muscles. He managed to grip the tablet, slowly inching it above himself, shutting his eyes as he felt his strength returning.
Then she started to sing.
His eyes shot back open as his fingers lost their function, dropping the tablet back into his lap with a loud thud. He was shaking, and his breathing increased to the point of hyperventilation. His head spun and his insides dropped – he felt like he was going to faint. And who knew where he'd wake up.
If he did at all.
How could he have thought that he would eventually escape this? How could he possibly have thought that this island was a safe haven, that it was anything beyond a temporary scapegoat from the inevitable.
That this could all be over.
This… this was all over.
She had found him, there was no more hiding. He had tried for so long, only to fail. He would've laughed if he had the energy for it.
But then, maybe he was looking at it from the wrong angle. No more constant worry over having a source of white noise, no more tiny town on a tiny island. He would never have to work again, never have to associate with humans, or have to answer their questions.
Just the gentle, freedom of the ocean.
Sure, it was at the price of his soul slowly be desecrated, but was that fate honestly worse than the alternative? His suspicions had been right – all this time she had been hunting him down. All those nights of paranoia, all those migraines, had been justified.
He looked back down at the screen, back to her outstretched arms, which were inviting him in, allowing him to finally rest. He thought about how good it would feel to have the ocean splash against his skin once more, and how good she would smell as her lips pressed to his, how he would return the embrace as they became one and she dragged him down into the abyss.
She was practically doing him a favor.
Ena.
All the years, and he never had a name for it – for her. Such a simple little name. She wasn't this heartless monster bent on destroying him, she was Ena. Beautiful, caring Ena, who only wanted to end his torment. She had adopted this entire persona just for him. She was his.
He looked at her, into her luscious eyes which knew him, and looked down at her username, taking in every letter, repeating the sound in his mind, letting her in, as if she had never left.
Then, he turned his gaze slightly, over to the view count. Just barely a couple thousand. At first, he read them as basic numbers, but then it crept in on him that... this meant other people had been watching.
Those fools, infiltrating on such an intimate moment. They too would fall victim to her song, but he would be all she needed. She had posted this as a means of finding him – everyone else was merely a casualty.
He sighed, thinking about all these humans walking into the sea, allowing its waters to wash over them, looking for her, but she wouldn't show. She wouldn't want any more to do with the human world than he did, and they would disappear together. He thought about all those immortals who would try to find her, but she would have no use for them.
They only needed each other.
Technology was a wonder, in so many regards. Finally reunited after all this time, because Takeda had –
Takeda.
96 had shown her channel to him. If he went missing, she would be the first place Takeda went to look. He would certainly watch this video.
He too would…
"You have to delete this…" 96 stuttered. His mouth felt so heavy, he had to stop and think about each movement he made. "D-darling…"
She couldn't hear him, of course, but he said it all the same. He had to take some action, whatever happened, wherever he went, he didn't wish any torment on Takeda. Even if there was only a chance of it actually occurring, he couldn't allow such a risk.
She couldn't… he…. they…what…. what was he doing?
96 stood straight up, his vision going black for a brief moment, before he hovered over to the tablet, raised it above his head, and slammed it to the ground. Its glass shattered, tiny bits flying across the room.
But her song had ended, and for the very first time since that night, he took comfort in the utter silence.
Reaching over, he picked up his conch shell and held it to the broken screen, bringing it down until a particularly large shard broke off. Then he rushed to the window and threw it open, flying out into the afternoon air.
Up into the sky he went – higher and higher, above the traffic and bustle of the city, up into the clouds. For a moment, he paused. His feet were naturally kicking along, as if he were trying to stay afloat rather than hover. Up here, the air had much more moisture, and he felt it along his skin. He had almost forgotten how freeing it was to fly.
Time held still, and in that instant, nothing mattered. It was as it should be.
Then, he heard it.
His ears honed in on it – the soft, tiny voice from an undiscernible distant. He followed it, trailing along, the wind piercing his eyes and blurring his vision. Eventually, he came across a simple shack, on a rock of an island. It wasn't anything, really, such a frail little charade.
Like the rest of her.
And there she stood, within the shores, arms outstretched, singing at the top of her lungs. He knew what he had to do, and that he couldn't afford to hesitate.
He took the shard he had brought with him, and jammed it into his ear. His screams echoed around and there was a terrible ringing in his head. Warm blood ran down the side of his cheek, making his grip sticky. Shakily, he brought it to the other ear and repeated the action.
He floated there in pure agony for some time, simply pressing his palms harder against his ears. As soon as the pain started to subside, he truly noticed how quiet it had become. And it would remain so, forever. The world of fear which he had embraced for ages was now all he would ever know.
Yet she remained.
He could feel her anger from where he hovered – she saw, she knew. She was furious. All the more determined to have him.
This would end, today, here and now. By any means, only one of them would leave this place.
He lowered himself, and stepped into the sea.