DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. I do not own Naruto or the materials associated with the manga/anime franchise. What I do own is this story in part or whole, the plot and set-up of the plot, and original characters that came with it.
The River Between Two Oceans
1-1
Pain seemingly subsides into mere pinches, from bursts of lightning and thunder to mere twinkles of faraway stars and galaxies pulsing on the very tip of my nerves.
I whip my eyes open.
Everything is dark and quiet. So deathly quiet. And numb.
My head pounds slightly, faint like the ebbing waves of a distant but familiar sea—one that I could almost taste in my mouth and smell in my nose. Taste of salmon like sashimi rolls and smell like pungent but bitter roasted coffee beans. My whole body feels so different, foreign and detached from my own self. It feels like I was driven out of the ordinary and recognisable then thrown into an extraordinary unusualness as if I had always been steering a ship's helm only to realise it was a mere small boat and that helm was nothing other than a pair of paddles. As if I actually awoke in another person's body.
Perhaps I had simply forgotten who I truly was and so here I am, pondering the difference between before and after, the awareness of and after-the-fact. I feel so frightened by those prospects that I begin to shudder. Or maybe I'm just confused by the possibility of these delusions being true?
My hands reach out, but are they really mine? It's like putting on gloves for the first time only to realise they're not loose plastic, but tight wool mittens. Itchy around the areas of tight, protruding bones like my knuckles and wrist, or knees and ankles. I look down to see a white shirt that I couldn't remember as something I was last wearing and the dark shorts that cover nearly half of my stubby little legs was torn and tattered. My whole body – strangely enough – feels so much lighter too and my clothes are sticking to my skin like a layer of dead tissue—I've been sweating, probably all night long, and probably that's also why everything feels like wool. My breaths are barely pants of air and I'm taking in as much it as I can, especially with my gaping mouth.
It's like I've been running the whole night through. Like I was chased around by something without even knowing why.
Was it all just a dream?
Was it even a dream?
I have to remember. I need to remember. I feel so distant from my memories as though I never existed up until to the moment I woke up just now. I know there is a trivial thing that could mean the uttermost urgency and impertinence, but I just can't assemble whatever that is. That memory has sunk deep within the dark water of my own consciousness, interlaced somehow with an absent subconscious that manifests a reality which clashes constantly with my own amateur imagination. It's like I was drowning, submerged underneath its weight then emerged out of it only to forget the fact that water has slinked into my lungs—distracted by the cool, tender and nice feel of the water.
There was just something that I have to – and must – remember. Just what was it?
The more I try to remember, the more my head hurts. Whatever semblance of confidence I have left finally wavers. Maybe figuring out where I am now might jog my memories.
So I take in my surroundings and look around the dark room. After a while of meaningless staring, the light adjusts my eyes. I could make out several things thanks to the silver moonlight that slithers onto every edge of any surface within this confined space. Shapes soon begin to form and my mind makes out the rest of the images through a spec of logic that still resides in my blank mind.
I could see a cauldron resting atop a burnt-out pit right smack in the middle of the large room ahead—scratch that, this whole place is huge room! There is no separation between the bedroom, dining, living or kitchen; each one of these is rounded up together in this confinement without knowing which part begins or the other ends. I see a small armchair at the foot of the dining room and a set of padded cushions in the living room circled around a coffee table full of empty plates. The kitchen is nothing but a galley of necessary (but doorless) cupboards where things (not exactly sure of the shapes) are stowed away—I assume that fire pit is the only stove and source of heat of the whole room. That was it.
In other words, this was a very, very small house—not a room.
A traditional house at that too, what with most of its amenities operating mainly for an on-floor seating. Another obvious sign is the fact that the dining room was raised over three feet above ground, but that armchair seems out of place.
I try to find some sort of clue, but nothing seems to help me remember anything. Everything still looks unfamiliar and strange. Like I was kidnapped here.
I try to find a sign of life or even another bed, but it seems that the bed I was sitting up on was indeed the only proper bed (with frames and whatnot) in here. There's an opened window to my left that carried within the house the smell of warm and humid forests, as if the dews from the trees outside were calling out to me, beckoning my memories as I do. There's also a wardrobe – with one tatami door left ajar – to my right and I can see the little amounts of clothing tucked in there. Rolled futons are wrapped neatly and stored on the higher shelf, like a bunch of squished marshmallows, so that must mean there is someone else here.
Something stirs on the bed.
"Momoko?"
I start at the sound of the voice. I know whose voice this belonged to.
"Wh-who's there?" My throat is dried, so my voice sounds hoarse and raspy. I'm even more sure that I've been running now.
"Jun, wake up!" the voice gets excited. It sounds like it came from my right side. "She's awake!"
I turn and look down. I could only see a blurred silhouette. There was someone there.
"Who are you!?" I was surprised by my own shouting.
Then I hear another voice, groaning from the other side of the bed. I could make out a pair of eyes looking back—very familiar eyes.
A clatter resounds. Then the clicks that followed come in threes. And then I hear a hiss. Then—
There is suddenly light in the room, shining from an oil lamp that the stranger – now revealed to be a man – was holding steady and high. His mouth is hanging open in shock as he looks at me with his wide, dark brown eyes. He's tanned, tall and skinny; he looked old with his lack of hair, leftover greys and wrinkled skin. Most of all, I know him. Then I turn to the other stranger; this one is a she and she has curls of white hair framing her meek heart-shaped face. Her eyes are dark and glistening like obsidian gems. She is paler than him but no less older.
Tears slip out from her eyes as they continuously stare at me and I at them. Oh, I know her alright!
I wheeze in more air and out comes a deep sigh. I'm relieved somehow. "Oba-chan? Oji-chan?"
"My Rurihime*!" she looks glad to see me too, as if the fear that I won't remember or wake up had been choking around her neck. She throws herself at me and holds me tight, and I reach out to hold her.
There's a small wonder in me that questions the reality of this hug, her presence and authenticity of this life itself.
"Oh, my poor baby!" she kisses me on my head several times—each at different spots, "You're all right! You're all right!"
I feel a soft pat on my head. And then my hair gets ruffled up.
"Geez, kid! You scared the hell outta us!" I hear my Grandpa mumble—also frightened by the same kind of chokehold.
I feel his warmth and hers collide, submerging me between them and then I feel that fear flooding over me. Suddenly that same death-like presence overwhelms me in this solemn but light air. My grip tightens and my chest aches, crushed gently by my own constricting rib cages.
"I thought… I thought you were—" I start crying and they pull away.
What did I think? Maybe that's what I was trying to remember from that dream. I was thinking about something dreadful and terrible, which only made me fearful of this present. Is this real? Or is the dream nothing but a huge lie?
"What's wrong, honey?" my Grandma rubs my back as I'm making strange noises—a fit that was a cross between snorting and sobbing. "What did you think?"
I stop and pause.
I really thought that they were gone. Dead.
"I-I'm scared! I-I thou—thought I was gonna wa-wake up alone!" my tears overwhelm me and they hug me once more. "I thought you were gone! I thought you guys were dead!"
They say nothing.
And for some reason, that scares me even more.
It takes them a while to respond. I feel that that was unnecessary as if they were trying to tell me that I was right, that it was appropriate of me to fear their deaths—as though it has happened or might happen. Again.
"Hush now!" my Grandma speaks softly against my ear, "You're alright! You had a bad dream, is all!"
I feel my Grandpa's head nod as he rests his chin on my head. "Yeah, you have been asleep for three days after all!"
I whip my head up and they break the embrace again.
Three days!?
"What!?" I shout louder than I expected, but I tone down when a pang of icy prickly pain begins thrumming from within my head. "Ouch!"
"Whoa there! You have a bump on your head now after what happened!" he goes on again.
"A bump?" I pause once more.
Just a bump?
I feel like given what might've happened there should be more than a bump on my head. Why do I think that way? What—
"What exactly happened?" I ask while my hand knead my temple.
My Grandma smiles and giggles. "You fell into the river and drowned—well, almost drowned! The current was strong against you and somehow, you've hit your head in the riverbed and that's why you have that bump on your head!"
"And why you almost drowned! You passed out and I had to hurry and get'chu out—r'else we won't be talking here!"
I don't recall that.
I can't recall anything like that at all.
In fact, I still think it was much worse than that.
I feel my Grandpa pat on my head again and this time, he examines a specific spot that was lumpy and achy. I flinch at that for a few times before I reach out for it—it doesn't seem real to me. Though I feel the pain, it doesn't feel personal to me somehow. It feels like I didn't feel the pain when it happens, only after it has happened. Like I was only feeling the aftershocks. Like what ails me is only the scar of an old wound, a wound I don't remember getting for myself.
Ah! I'm not making any sense!
"Yup!" he chuckles together with my Grandma, "Looks like that's gonna leave a mark!"
I'm not worried about that.
"Rurihime-chan, let's just get some sleep, alright?" My Grandma cajoles me.
Rurihime.
Lapis Lazuli. Princess.
Why is she calling me that? Has she always called me that?
Hold on.
What are their names? How old are they? Where are my parents? How long have I been with them? Where is everybody else? Where are we?
What's my name?
The pain in my head worsens. I grab my head with both hands and start screaming.
"What's wrong?" I hear my Grandma scrambles up to her feet. "Jun, do something!"
A buzzing resounds in my ear. Loud and strong. Deafening.
My vision blurs and fogs up by blinking white stars.
"It's just the injury… I guess it may be much more serious than we thought. I'll get the doctor first thing tomorrow morning," my Grandpa says.
A doctor. Yes, maybe I could ask the doctor is this was normal.
If being so detached from my body is normal. No, not just this body. This reality isn't the same as I remembered it… No, I don't know what I remember! Is that normal!?
I look up to my Grandpa. "Oji-chan, help me… Please! I can't—I just—I just can't—!"
"It's okay, kiddo! Just sleep for tonight! I'll call for the doctor tomorrow—I promise!"
"Oh, Jun! I can't bear seeing her like this!" my Grandma proceeds to cry.
My Grandpa is calm. But I may be wrong.
He is only calm and composed because he is the eye of this storm itself. His eyebrows are crunched up together, but his dark eyes are cool. His body isn't trembling. He's not frightened, but he is worried and he knows why he should be. I just wish he would tell me—maybe not now, but later.
"Don't worry. The doctor's coming tomorrow," he falls back on his knees and rummages for something on the side of the bed.
I could see what was there: a pot of water and glass, and a bunch of herbs scattered next to a pestle and mortar. He throws some of them into the mortar and crushes them with the pestle over and over until they were mushed, a paste of a strange odour. Then he scoops them into the glass and pours the water into it. The drink is greenish and brown, and I know it was meant for me even before he hands it out.
I stare at it. But I wasn't thinking.
When I drink it, I taste nothing. Or rather, I couldn't taste anything. I couldn't feel the water in my mouth. I only know pain.
That pain blocks everything else.
"Isn't that too much hokkai-kisso*?" my Grandma sounds skeptical.
I wonder what that thing is.
"She needs it," he mumbles as he pats my head and ruffles my hair again. This time that feels soothing. "She'll be out in a minute and she'll be asleep for hours."
"Oh, my poor Rurihime…"
The pain is gone. Or I wasn't feeling anything anymore.
My Grandma takes the glass from my hand. My Grandpa pats on the pillow behind me. Then she takes me in her arms and pushes me down. He straightens then bed and the blanket. She lays me down gently. He pulls the blanket over me.
They both tug me in. And smile.
My eyes couldn't keep up.
I close them and everything was dark, but I could hear more clearly.
"Are you sure about this, Jun?"
"Come on, Ranko! Just stick to it, please!"
Hm. Stick to what?
Is something wrong?
"Well, I know we have no say in this matter! But she appeared like this! Is this normal?"
I… I appeared?
Like this?
How else should I have appeared? Wait, why would I be appearing?
"I don't know what's normal anymore… and you don't either. Let's just get this over with, alright?"
"What if she doesn't remember anything?"
What if I don't remember…
"She will, eventually."
Oh.
How come! How could he know about that? How does he know I can't remember anything? I didn't even tell him!
Right?
"What's that supposed to mean?"
There's silence on his part.
I hear some scuffle. Then footsteps move away. Then another round of footsteps follow.
"I think you know what that means…" his voice is far now, but I can tell the distaste in his thoughts and how uncomfortable that made him.
My Grandma makes a groan. "Of course! She didn't die as a child."
What does she mean by that, I wonder?
If I'd almost drowned, then I didn't die, right? Is that it?
"Exactly. So when she grows up, her memories will come back to her."
"How will we know when that happens?"
"Probably never, to be honest."
Huh.
What—
"Darling, you don't think—"
does he—
"It doesn't matter what I think… J-Just—Let's just live together as peacefully and happily as possible."
he mean?
"You mean, until the—"
Until what!?
"No matter what happens, it's always best we try."
Until what happens!?
I can't speak. I can't move. My body isn't responding. My mind is a flurry of storms. I'm stuck in paralysis.
My Grandma sighs. "I suppose there's always that!"
"I'll get the doctor anyway… but she needs to get used to it. Once she does, she will be fine—I know it."
Get used to this?
To being a stranger in my own body? To questioning everything even when I shouldn't? To wondering why I can't connect to this reality?
"I hope you're right. And I hope the doctor won't find anything wrong with her."
"Yes, let's hope that."
"I'll ready our beds then."
"Yes… We have a long day ahead of us."
What is going on?
Why were they talking like that? Why am I—
Sleep is awash completely over my body and mind now.
I can't fight the drowsiness. I can't resist the call of slumber, soft and kind to me. As if it was telling me all will be better when I wake up next.
I want to believe that.
But the dread remains. The questions echo. The mystery deepens.
And I—
fall asleep.
Author's Note: Ay! Here we go, guys! The mystery continues again next week! Sorry, this update was a bit late! I'm busy with lots of things (and I have more stories to update now)! It's hard for me to pick which ones to update first! This one was the one I chose. Now I have to resume with the rest! I hope you guys enjoyed this. I know this does mean that the story is a bit slow (because that means Naruto characters aren't introduced yet), but it will be worth the plot! :)
*hokkai-kisso is Valerian Root in Japanese (according to several sources). Apparently that root is popular for sleeping aids and pain-killers!
My favourite Naruto couple would be Minato and Kushina. I mean, come on, this guy is the youngest Hokage and he has created an advanced technique that could rival the speed of the Second Hokage (which is a feat by itself). And this guy is still afraid of his wife! Kushina is another Naruto (no doubt he inherited her personality), but I really like how she can be portrayed as someone who is pretty meek (in terms of skills) but she is a Jinchuuriki no less. If I could travel to the Naruto world, interacting with these two would be interesting and definitely on the top of my list. It would explain why I keep writing stories in their timeline. Indeed, they will be missed! ;_;
