Reset and Relent the Regretful Resent | pt 2
Aeron doesn't know how it's happened, doesn't know why, but he's back at the restaurant.
Yakusuga has a tight grip on his hand. It's meant to be reassuring, it's meant to be warm, but Aeron can only feel her restlessness and worry through her taut fingers and shaking arm. In another world, Aeron would be at school. Currently, his only reality consists of a stranger's kindness and a resolute unease settling in his stomach. The cool air of the restaurant settles around his body and grips onto his lungs with sharp, piercing fingers. Every breath is a struggle.
After determining the quandary they were stuck in, Yakusuga led Aeron to the restaurant to wait for the other ultimates who were searching the ship. When they walked in, Pauline took a single glance at him and smiled sadly. Natsuki's face softened with pity. Hana's eyes filled with an unfathomable amount of empathy. Watanabe did not turn from his corner.
Aeron stares down at the hardwood of the table he resides in. Despite the situation, he can feel his mind itching for some sort of stable foundation to grasp onto. He's still subconsciously searching for his missing memories. He knows it's probably near impossible, since most likely, they've been purposely erased. He clenches his fists and squeezes Yakusuga's hand tighter. It's unfair.
Suddenly, Yakusuga jolts and releases Aeron's hand from her grasp. Their shared warmth retreats and vanishes into the cold air. The baker turns around in her chair and nearly tips herself over. Curious, Aeron also twists in his seat.
There's a boy at the door. The orange sky casts a sticky outline around his wired frame. He walks into the room and lets the door swing closed behind him. Aeron spots two moving masses of black outside that stumble and bump into the door as it closes. The boy who entered fixes an impactful gaze around the room. He opens his mouth and declares something just as two messy, tangled girls push open the door and flounder through the entrance.
Beside him, Yakusuga deflates. Her eyes glisten. Aeron glances around and makes eye contact with Hana. The girl's narrow, dark brown eyes catch his gaze immediately.
He's talking about how the boat is empty, she signs. There are no life rafts.
Aeron inhales shakily. He tries to filter his breathing carefully. Suddenly, Hana's fingers falter, and she gapes at the boy as he continues to speak with a backdrop of maple orange light. The two girls behind him flicker their gazes around the room nervously.
What is it? Aeron pursues, growing impatient. What happened?
Hana shakes herself out of it, but her face is still stretched into a wry expression of surprise. There's no one steering the boat.
Aeron blinks rapidly. He turns to Yakusuga to validate Hana's statement, and the paleness of the baker's cheeks seem to prove the linguist correct. He glances back at Hana. How is that possible? He demands. How is the ship moving if no one is manning it?
Hana shakes her head and tucks her hands between her knees. She keeps her gazed fixed on the floor and lets her purple, side-swept fringe hang over her eyes. Aeron glances back at the boy, who beckons the girls inside. They shuffle to a table in the centre of the room.
The boy spots Aeron and his eyes light up in unfathomable determination. Aeron, feeling cornered, shrinks back slightly when the boy approaches. He has a mass of unruly brown hair that sits on his head like a fatigued mop. He gestures to Aeron with an arm trapped in a blue sling, but that doesn't stop his black and orange bowling ball shirt from swaying aggressively. When he talks, his lips move clearly and precisely – Aeron believes that the boy's pronunciation is also crisp and sharp. Aeron can easily read what he says: you're the last one, aren't you?
KEN HAYASHI
Ken waits for an answer from the kid with dirt-caked skin. However, before he can obtain any input, the baker, Yakusuga Amai, waves in from the sidelines, face taut and heavy – no doubt with worry. "He's-he's deaf," she stutters, and her eyes loop around the room before she glances back at him. "I-I found him in another cabin. He was tied up."
Ken nods certainly, and he hopes his face is filled with enough conviction to calm her down. "That's good. Thank you."
Yakusuga sinks in her seat, relieved, but the boy behind her jumps and smacks a book right into his chest. Ken jolts and blinks rapidly in surprise, but he takes the book nonetheless, searching for words.
What do you mean there's no one steering the ship? Is scratched in the corner. Ken exhales heavily through his nose. He wishes he could answer the boy's question, but his mind pounds with the heaviness and burden of the unknown. For now, the boy will just have to take things at face value. He grabs the pen rested between the boy's twitching fingers.
That's exactly what I mean. Ken writes, and he ensures that his characters are big enough for the boy to see clearly. It's a bit sloppy, but that's to be expected when one of his arms is locked tightly in a sling. Ken holds up the book for the boy to see and snatches it back when the boy makes a sudden grab for it. Don't worry about it – for now, let's introduce each other, Ken writes, and he underestimates his own handwriting, because it fills the whole page.
He flips to another, completely apologetic, and introduces himself. I'm Hayashi Ken, Ultimate Bowler. He flips it around and watches as the boy's eyes scan the page with deadly speed, before Ken turns it back, writing something else. Tell me who you are.
The boy's face scrunches up in distaste and he makes a small noise that sounds like a derisive scoff, but Ken easily pushes that aside with a smile as he hands back the tattered book. As the boy flips through the pages, Ken muffles a sigh and reconsiders the situation. He tries to ignore the lingering dread that hangs at the forefront of his mind – the question of, where exactly are we going? He grinds his teeth. If he continues to let that dread tower over him like an unmovable brick wall, he'll crush himself when it eventually crumbles over him. Ken tries to remain logical. There are others still out searching, and they have two investigators helping the search – there's no way they'll come up with nothing. Ken smiles. Yes, this is the best way to think – positive mental fortitude. He didn't become the best bowling ball player in Japan through doubt.
The kid hands him back the book, pages flipped to the front. He gestures to a scribble in the centre.
Aeron Murakami. Ultimate Palaeontologist. Ken's brain stutters on the Ultimate. He rubs at his patchy jaw, filled with stubble. Is the kid a foreigner? Aeron must be a first name.
Aeron flips back to the pages of their conversation and gestures to the question of the captain who's missing in action. He jabs at it angrily several times to emphasise his point.
Ken bites back a sigh and shrugs. Aeron flares, hands clenched, oh, so boats sail themselves? He writes. He looks like he's going to throw the book in Ken's face, but stops and glances behind Ken.
NANAMI SUZUKI
Nanami doesn't quite know what she's doing when she gets up from the table. Takahiro stands and follows her without a word of question, trailing behind her with her swirly green-grey eyes fixed on the floor. Takahiro fiddles with the sleeve of her blue crop-top sweater and gently tugs down her high-waisted black shorts. Nanami tucks her bag under the table.
"A-Are we introducing ourselves?" Takahiro questions quietly, pale lips tenderly dragging the words from her tongue.
Nanami nods firmly. Yes, she was going to introduce herself to a person…as a person. To humans. Yes. Because she-she is human. Yes. Interaction amongst her peers is very important. Nanami's hands quiver, but she clenches them tightly. She can introduce herself to this new student without Hayashi's direction. She can do this. Humans were born to interact.
As she takes a step forward, Takahiro immediately latches onto her arm and together they nearly stumble onto another table. Takihiro's heeled boots almost puncture a hole in Nanami's foot. She feels the world pirouetting on its axis.
Takahiro also shakes, more vigorously so than Nanami, and there's some semblance in knowing that there's someone just as nervous as her and for that, she's ultimately grateful for Takihiro's presence, as frail and thin as it is. She inhales steadily, for herself and her companion, and steps towards the boy.
Nanami reaches the table, and her eyes flicker between Yakusuga and the unknown boy. "U-Um," she starts, while berating herself mentally for sounding so unintelligently sloppy. "I-I…we-erm, hi, um, we-"
Nanami takes the next inhale like a punch to the gut and forces out the next words without giving herself time to think. "Who is that boy?" she asks, but it comes out like a yell, so it's probably more of a demand, and Yakusuga looks startled, and wow what fantastic first words, but they're on a ship so Nanami can just throw herself off and happily drown – no, unhappily drown because what kind of greeting was that?
Yakusuga looks flustered beyond control, and the heat that rises on her cheeks also sets Nanami's face aflame. "He's, um," the baker tries. "He's-he can't hear."
Immediately, Nanami feels shame and embarrassment crawl up her spine like an unwelcome spider. What if they mis-interpreted the yell? What if they thought that she thought that he thought that he couldn't hear? No, that's not right, her words are jumbling up-
The boy flips open a book and points to a space in the centre. I'm Aeron Murakami, Ultimate Palaeontologist, nice to meet you.
Nanami almost screeches in abstract horror and from the feeling of being absolutely lost. What does she do now? Does she use braille? No, no, that's for people who are visually impaired. He can't hear. Does she sign? She can sign a few words, like dolphins and rise for air, but how will she introduce herself with the limited vocabulary she leeched off her diving trainer?
Hayashi nudges her with an elbow. "Just write in the book," he whispers, though it's unnecessary.
Nanami's face promptly explodes. She feels heat radiating off her face in waves. So all she had to do was write in the book? With fingers she pretends isn't trembling, she takes hold of the tatty cover and introduces herself. Suzuki Nanami. Ultimate Cave Diver. She wants to write more, maybe add a smile so she doesn't seem so curt, but she's too scared of messing up her already terrible handwriting, so she refrains. Murakami glances up at her and smiles a small smile. Nanami exhales in relief. She's done it – she's introduced herself to another human being!
SHIZUKA TAKAHIRO
Shizuka clutches onto Suzuki's arm like a vice and tries to calm her fraying nerves as she waits her turn. She tries to breathe like Suzuki – heavy exhale, heavy inhale. She believes Suzuki breathes like this due to practice and body memory. It's a good meditator, so Shizuka isn't complaining.
"I-Is my breathing…annoying?" Suzuki questions, voice feeble and seconds from cracking.
Shizuka flinches. Did she say that out loud?!
"You-you did," Suzuki answers.
Shizuka gasps and shakes her head vigorously. "No, no! Your breathing is…" words failing her, Shizuka waves her hands around. "Is…you know!" She described it positively just seconds ago. Why is the word slipping from her grasp now?! "It's…very good!"
Suzuki makes an unfathomable expression while her face explodes into a vibrant burst of red. Shizuka immediately panics. Is that…an angry red? It's an angry red, isn't it?! No one flares that colour unless they're mad!
Suddenly, there's a hand on her shoulder, and Shizuka turns around quickly enough to almost snap her neck. It's the boy – Murakami, as she saw before, when he pointed at his name. This time, he points to a blank page while holding out a pen.
Shizuka makes a confused, strangled noise – her expression can't be any better. Murakami, she notes, huffs slightly and brings the book back to scribble something on the originally blank page. Your name?
Shizuka blossoms with embarrassment. So that's what he meant. She gently takes the pen from him, and writes in her neatest possible handwriting: I'm Takahiro Shizuka, Ultimate Glassblower, it's very nice to meet you. She hopes her hands aren't trembling.
When Murakami takes the book back, he scans it and smiles carefully.
It's been ten minutes and Aeron still has no answers. Everyone in the restaurant now huddles around their table; some dragged extra chairs for the others while they sit and wait. It seems the presence of Hayashi has sparked some sort of unanimous movement in all of them, because now, they are discussing the current issue and how they should go about it. Hana translates all of their conversations effortlessly, which Aeron is endlessly grateful for, even if he was impatient with her previously. While he waits for answers that don't get looped in circles, he observes the newcomers.
Takahiro has hair that matches her crop-top, interestingly enough. It's cut right above her eyes, and it's a wonder that she doesn't cry out every second from it poking her eyeballs. It's tied into two complicated mermaid-looking braids that Aeron can't remember the name of. When she smiles and contributes to the points made, Aeron sees her face glitter with faint freckles almost invisible in the fading sunlight.
Suzuki is adorned in a pastel pink, comfortable looking dress that ends at her knees, showing fading scars that she hides under the table. The straps are so thin and wired that they look like they're cutting through her collarbone. When Aeron squints, he notices a small floral design imprinted on the hip of her dress. Her eyes are dressed up with long eyelashes and crystal-like blue irises. Unlike everyone else, who're in heels or sneakers, she wears flip-flops. Weirdly enough, perched on top of the blonde pixie cut of her hair, she dangles grey diving goggles. It's extremely out of place and irks Aeron to no end. He rips his eyes from the goggles before he can make a statement about them.
Ken, alongside the simplistic shirt and jacket, wears unnameable pants held together by a tacky, white belt. There's a gold chain around his neck that cannot be real.
Aeron huffs and rubs his face. He wants nothing more than to be at home – in the comfort of his sheets and his parents. He wants to rest his eyes, even a little. He doesn't want to be surrounded by strangers. He doesn't want the potential possibility of death to loom so close to him.
HANAKO HISAKAWA
Hanako grits her teeth and braces herself. She braces herself for the expressions of distraught and for the crumble of the team's mentality. She allows herself another five seconds of catching her breath before she pushes open the door, announcing her presence.
Heads turn. Expectations are thrown towards her like flies for a spider's web. Hanako smirks. How foolish of them, to think they wouldn't get tangled in this absurd obscurity that hangs over their heads like a guillotine.
"There's nothing in the engine room, the upper deck, the lower deck, the middle deck, and captain's quarters," she announces, while ignoring the crestfallen faces that sprout like unheeded saplings. There's one person, though, who stands righteously, a single waving purple flag amidst a sea of white ones.
"Are you sure you didn't overlook something?" Hayashi questions, an inextinguishable determination permanently etched onto his face.
Hanako snaps him a glare. "I do not overlook details," she explains carefully, because he's a child who needs to be told something twice. "There is nothing."
Ken fires back with a glare of his own, but it's like a stab of a pencil – it's nothing but an over-exaggerated accusation meant to scare – a pencil's tip is made of graphite, not lead. She can't be poisoned.
She scans the room, and sure enough, as predicted, there's another person who wasn't here before.
He's a small boy with artlessness in his eyes. He scribbles in a book mindlessly while everyone else curls around the table, talking meaningless things about planning and escape. Hanako smirks.
She strides to the table; steps powerful as she overrides other obstacles around – a bag, a book, Watanabe who refuses to shift even slightly. She plops down on a dirty, crooked chair next to the boy. He does not raise his head. Sitting on the other side of him is Yakusuga, who offers her a shy grin. Hanako smiles back out of reinforced politeness.
Hanako scratches her elbows absentmindedly as she waits a response from the boy. She counts down five seconds.
When nothing happens, she pokes the boy on the shoulder.
When the boy looks up at her, with the same, unbright, artless eyes, she ignores his gaze and scans the book. She sees endless words in different handwriting and deduces for herself that the boy must be deaf or hard of hearing. She gestures for the journal, as tatty and rugged as it is, and sets about introducing herself.
I am the Ultimate Debater, Hisakawa Hanako.
No sooner has she finished that the boy prepares himself to take the book back – to introduce himself, no doubt.
No need, she writes, I see it here. She points with the pen at a ratty, yellowed corner, at the name Murakami Aeron, listed with: Ultimate Palaeontologist.
Murakami makes a wry face and takes the book back. Yakusuga glances over and apologises in his steed. Hanako smiles.
Aeron wanted to take the book back so he could read her name better. He couldn't see it, since it was slanted and so, so messy. Aeron goes back to doodling a dinosaur on the last page, while keeping Hisakawa in his peripheral. What draws his attention is her red, almost blistering skin, skin she constantly scratches at, possibly without her knowing. After a few minutes, she'll stop for a time, but it continues up again, especially when the conversation in front of them picks up. Besides that, she has raven-black hair that stops exactly at her shoulders. Aeron wouldn't be surprised if she told him that she measured it exactly up to that point. Hisakawa wears clothes with the possible style to be minimalistic – a beige polo t-shirt, a dark-blue, knee-length skirt, and an orange jacket stretched tightly around her waist. Aeron's eyes are drawn to her scratching again, and can only look for a few seconds before they're forced away.
It looks painful.
FLYNN TAGGART
Flynn walks in silently. Heads turn, but don't stay turned for long. It's the helmet and his definitely-not-small frame – he knows. He, no doubt, looks like a person you'll swivel away from – cross the road to avoid if you're on his path on the street. His grey respirator helmet certainly doesn't attract attention from kids, well; it does, but the wrong kind of attention. He glances around for an unappealing face, and spots her scribbling in a book next to a kid whose face he hasn't seen before.
He meant to come back with Hisakawa, but she left him behind in favour of walking faster. He doesn't like her very much. She seems like someone born with a golden-spoon in her mouth, someone who's too self-absorbed to notice the chaos happening around her.
Flynn excuses himself around the table – past a bag, a book, Watanabe who moves all-too-quickly for him. He sits down right next to Hisakawa, who scowls blatantly at his presence. Guess she doesn't like him either.
He ignores her, despite his obvious intention to annoy her, and he focuses instead on Ken, who leads the conversation.
Apparently, they're doing round-a-bouts – they have no idea where they're going, there's no captain for them to consult, there are no safety rafts, the decks are devoid of humans, and they're unsure of their food supply. It's almost laughable, but Flynn gets a sickening squeeze in his stomach when he really sits down to process everything. If they're already this unsure of their motives from the start, they actually might die within the next two weeks. He's about to voice this to the group, but a hand grapples at his arm.
It's the kid whose face he couldn't recgonise. He distinctly remembers Yakusuga going on a hunt for students they might've missed in the cabins. This must be the last one.
The boy holds out a book, the edges tattered and yellowed with time. It is unbelievably thick, and there are a few pages where Flynn can see is only half-covered with ink. It's an extreme waste of environmental resource.
The boy points to a page – no, to a few characters scattered on the side of the page. Flynn struggles to read it, only slightly, mostly because it's been scrawled so messily, and also because Kanji isn't exactly his strongest forte.
Aeron Murakami, Ultimate Palaeontologist.
Flynn nods firmly. Aeron – that's easy to remember.
Aeron hands him a pen and nudges the book at him. Flynn glances at him curiously. Can this boy talk? He tilts his head, which allows the boy to catch on immediately.
I'm deaf, he writes easily, and passes the pen to Flynn.
Flynn only blinks for a second before he gives Aeron an assertive nod and proceeds to introduce himself. I'm Flynn Taggart. I'm American and the Ultimate Environmentalist.
Aeron glances back at him and smiles as he tucks the book away.
When their exchange is done, Hisakawa knocks his elbow away from her face, where he was leaning over her to write in Aeron's book. A sharp spike of anger shoots through his body and flames his nerves, but he wills himself to deflate and ignore her poisonous touch that still lingers over his skin – first impressions are very important, after all. He may look like a monster, but he doesn't have to act like one.
If Aeron thought the strangeness would end at Hisakawa, he was wrong. Flynn has a space marine-like helmet locked on tightly over his head, the opacity of the screen obscuring his face. His clothes, too, are oddly out of place, with a green t-shirt stretched taut across his bulky chest, layered with a olive bomber vest that shifts and turns at every slight movement. He wears khaki cargo shorts with hiking gaiters that cover his shins and brown hiking boots. He looks every bit intimidating – his large bulk and muscle makes him look like he could snap Aeron's spine with two fingers.
Aeron puts the book away, wishing to confide in the familiarity of Yakusuga's soothing presence and warm smiles.
Just as he thinks this, Yakusuga jolts and slams Aeron's heart against his ribs. She quickly gestures for the book, and Aeron hands it over with tight fingers.
The bread! It's going to burn!
Aeron barely has time to finish reading before she drags him up by the elbow and starts stumbling out the door.
AN: Thank you to Agatha Christie, who enlightened me to an effective 3rd person omniscient. Thank you to everyone in the discord chat – for motivating me to push further and pursue more. I'll be re-writing the 1st chapter so it has the style of the 2nd chapter. Every OC will get a special monologue upon introduction. Don't be confused; the protagonist of this story is still Aeron Murakami.
Pretty Palutena: Thank you so much for your kindness and support thus far! Writing Pauline is an honour.
TheRoseShadow21: I'll be describing Hana more thoroughly when I re-write the first chapter! Thank you very very much for your patience and interest so far! Ah, and the revealing of the names is so that the audience can deliberately view those characters in different ways to how maybe Aeron sees them or how they view themselves. It's also to evoke more tension and build faster dynamics between certain characters. It certainly loses its surprise factor, though.
Kuranoir: Thank you for telling me to look after myself. Thank you so much for your patience!
liammarklh88: I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm trying to make up for it by giving Amai a lot of exposure. Thank you so much for staying interested despite my month long retreat. Sasaki isn't deaf, haha, she's a linguist who knows Japanese sign language. Thank you, again!
RioA: I'm glad you think Hanako is sweet! Please continue to think that way! (if you want to). Thank you for giving me your interpretation on all the characters - it gives me an idea of where I should step next.
TheVolcanicGal: Thank you so so much for your interest and for providing me a character as amazing as Hanako. She's so fun to write, mainly because I'm using so much figurative language, haha.
hambor12: Thank you! Flynn is very, very interesting, haha. I live for your sense of humour.
CrimsonSpiderLily: Thank you very much for the detailed review! I hope Shizuka was portrayed to your satisfaction. Thank you for your support and kind words! Thank you!