Chapter 1
The data was off.
The percent yield was high, and the anomalies resulting from it were even higher; which it shouldn't—she would know, considering she had corrected and rechecked every goddamn procedural step for the past seventy-two hours.
Either some idiot on my team couldn't read instructions and measure properly, or I must have input something wrong. Unlikely. She grimaced, lathering soap along her body with renewed frustration.
For the third night in a row, she stood in the stall, enduring the lukewarm spray offered by the rusted pipes of the shower, trying in vain to fight back the fog in her mind enough to have a moment of clarity. She was a walking corpse due to lack of sleep, frustration, and caffeine withdrawal. Her temples pounded, but she forced herself to ignore it. She had to keep going, just enough to think.
We were close, damn it. The yield rate was too high.
Something was off, but what?
A harsh shrill broke through the silence, and on the bench, her phone rang. She knew what it meant, and she refused to so much as move—protocol be damned. The urgency in her heart matched the urgency of the timer, but she was on the verge of a breakthrough; she could feel it. If only the world could stop its rotation for five, no, ten seconds, she could pull out a miracle from her back pocket.
There was a small second of bliss before it went off again. This time, a groan spilled past her lips, the tight ball forming in the back of her throat choking her.
I need more time! I need to have something concrete to work with; I can't go in there empty-handed like this.
All she needed was an epiphany, a clear solution. Being frustrated led to rushing, and with the way she was now, she would easily make mistakes.
Mistakes that would make her life forfeit.
It took most of her willpower, but jerkily, she began the automatic process of rinsing, turning off the shower, dressing, and praying that she would finish the last hours of this nightmare quickly and painlessly. Everyone on the extraction team was hanging on by a hair strand.
Working at an underground facility for seventy-two hours without rest would do that to anyone.
Yes, she had asked for this. The motivation that drove her towards a dream of revolutionizing life as she knew it was scorchingly hot and equally as bright. In hindsight, she was naive and foolish. In the past, she was a fresh out of graduate school hopeful equipped with a Ph.D. in geochemistry. She foamed at the mouth when the job offer as a lead data analyst fell into her arms, ecstatic at her good luck.
The job they offered was too good to be true: student loans settled, housing covered, and triple the normal pay. All they required was relocating to an off-branch facility and keeping all proceedings hush-hush. She would work under them for no more than five years in investigative fieldwork. Once done, she would be free to work on any topic she wanted, provided she stayed with the innovative fuel company. It was a deal with the devil that she was more than happy to sign.
What a dumb mistake that was. Am I a moron for accepting, or more foolish for staying?
"Probably the latter." she bemoaned aloud.
She was careless for ignoring the initial signs, but she wasn't dumb. Her current job is highly illegal and extremely dangerous. If her employers don't get the answers they want, she, along with her team, will never leave the facility with their lives intact.
She chewed her bottom lip, dragging her feet out of the dormitory and towards the pit—the underground laboratory accessible only by elevator. The facility was 100 meters below ground level, surrounded by layers of sedimentary deposits and seawater. If the elevator stopped working, every scientist, archeologist, military, and government personnel inside would be trapped.
Needless to say, she hoped this was her last time going down there.
After finding the source of the anomaly, her team will be one step closer (in theory) to achieving the overall goal. Once finished, she'll be glad to place all memories of this bunker in a small, decrepit box in her mind, never to be touched.
But for now, with her life at stake, she had stats to fix.
She quickly bypasses the first security checkpoint, allowing the automatic biometric scanners to read and recognize her optic data. A small shiver of fear passes through her, despite her best efforts to stay calm.
She wonders what her family is doing. She hasn't seen them in a while. It'll be good to catch up and relax in the comfort of her childhood home.
If I survive this, I'll let Mom finally set me up on a blind date. My dating life is pretty much nonexistent, and I need something ordinary after all this chaos.
The thought sobered her as she continued to walk through the second checkpoint. She kept her eyes down while passing the line of nondescript-ant guards. The men were clad from head to toe in military black with their faces covered; their lifelessness constantly reminded her of what was at stake. Halting at the steel barricade, she held her hand up, giving it to the guard standing stationary at the entrance to scan her thumbprint and badge.
The guard grunted, extending their gloved fist to hand her badge back, and paused. The light to the elevator glowed, but no sound of the shaft moving or the door opening was heard. The guard pressed a button to open the door again, but nothing happened. The black helmet lifted, glancing at the lights overhead as they flickered. They were pulsing—as if gaining a heartbeat.
"The hell...?"
The lights that encased the security checkpoints behind her exploded. She couldn't help the yelp that escaped her mouth as she ducked, covering her neck and face as glass fell like confetti.
The backup generators she knew the facility had installed in case of the worst-case scenarios whirled to life the next moment, turning the hall red and casting dark shadows over the rust and grime. She recognized the sound of the guard drawing their gun. Their back was to her, facing the door. Footsteps pounded in and out of the corridor, the other guards rushing to scope out the scene and follow security protocol.
When she first told her family about accepting this job, her siblings congratulated her; she would be the one to make their family filthy rich they said. Her mother worried, anxious at the thought of her being on an island in the middle of nowhere, unreachable. Her father had laughed.
"Let's hope Hollywood producers take creative liberties," he chuckled.
At the time, she laughed too at the morbid irony. Wouldn't it be funny? For her golden opportunity to go up into flames simply due to secret labs being known for blowing up?
Before the alarm initiated lockdown, (was there a break-in? or was something going wrong down in the pit? did the porthole fluctuate again? Fuckwhat'shappeningwhatshouldIdo) and before the guard could touch the microphone at their ear to ask what the hell was going on, and even before a question could fly panicked from her lips, an explosion from inside the center resounded.
The explosion sent shockwaves through the entire facility.
The steel door that should have protected her from this exact scenario flew outward and imploded.
And she knew no more.
...
Well, that's a lie.
She now knew darkness; she became best friends with it.
The light beyond her eyelids changed, shifting from semi-darkness to an all-consuming yet homely black.
For a long time (honestly, the concept of time was irrelevant. An instant or eons could go by; the space was an unquantifiable entity.) Things such as feelings and memories she used to have faded, washed away like grains on a shore. There was no 'I' nor did she have a consciousness.
And that was okay.
In acknowledgment of this acceptance, the darkness slowly began to solidify. The vast space became smaller, more personal, and slightly brighter—no longer the oppressing pitch darkness but a weighty black, still holding onto that comforting feeling.
It was as if she had been searching for this space all her life.
Listening to the whole, rhythmic beat the space emitted, she felt at peace. Occasionally, it sighed and exhaled as if in response to her inhalation.
Wait.
Her own…?
As abruptly as the darkness began, it stopped. The small expanse began to tremble, constricting and encircling, and she kicked out in confusion as the world she knew started to crumble.
Once again, she was 'me' and something practically forced her from the dark space she was floating in.
Confused, disoriented, and entirely unaware of the chain of events happening to her, she believes she acted as any sane person should.
Very violently.
She flailed and panicked, and with a final push on her head, she left the darkness gasping and shrieking.
A cacophony of noise and light greeted her upon her exit. Having been in darkness with nothing but a slight grasp of her sense of self and a reassuring thumping, it was too much. Sounds were tossed at her, towards her, and thrown all around and above her in a frenzy; upon hearing each new voice, her heart threatened to beat out her chest.
She kept her eyes closed, holding her breath, believing that if she could not see, what she assumed were colorless, amorphous, gigantic globs wouldn't see her either. That theory proved incorrect when one of the masses moved, and there was a sharp foreign sting on her back that burned. After that, millions of unfamiliar sensations began their assault on her person as she tried in vain to put a solid coherent thought together.
A soft, fuzzy thing was touching her sensitive skin, and the feeling of air pushing and whooshing against her silken head signified that she was...something. Moving? She was being passed around, and slowly going downward. She felt more than saw warm, sweaty cushions accompanied by a familiar rhythm pressing against her body. The beat was one that she recognized with an accuracy that terrified her while simultaneously calming her.
It was wrong. She was scared. She felt sick. Raw.
"Alola, mai chibi~chan. " said a voice full of affection and breathless love.
NO, wait-
"Congratulations! It's a beautiful baby girl."
Then, the woman who had just given birth (because what else could this possibly be?) let her NOT-name fall from her lips.
Not mine; not me. Not alive, not dead. How?
In response, amniotic fluids spewed from her mouth and onto the adoring blob. The shape's relieved yet airy laughter pushes her over the edge.
"A very healthy baby girl," cooed another voice.
She wailed as loud as her new lungs allowed her, bawling her eyes out in earnest before passing out.
"I believe that life is a prize. But to live doesn't mean,
you're alive."- Nicki Minaj
The first stage of her new life was spent looking up at the circular ceiling (made of bamboo?—or, even worse, straw? My allergies were shit enough already. Wait. Do I still have allergies now?) tossing and pondering.
Reincarnation.
It was so ridiculously stupid.
She, like all great thinkers before her, believed that the philosophy of reincarnation could be explained through scientific advancements. One day, as technology progressed, the principle would be discovered. After all, death was the next greatest unanswered question—right before the creation of the universe and right after the purpose of human existence.
It didn't mean she, of all people, wanted a firsthand experience to test it.
Millions of people die every day. Some through accidents (car crashes, drowning, falling down the stairs, death by a steel door decapitating your head off); some through war, disease; anything goes. Nobody wants to die, but death is something that everyone will experience eventually.
So when it was her turn, she was somewhat ready. She regretted how it happened (she died by a fiery metal door crushing her; how could she not?). She regretted how her family would never get to bury her remains. She regretted the time wasted and how everything she'd ever done essentially amounted to nothing.
There was another, louder, half of herself that accepted her demise. (She was lying to herself, but who cares? It made her feel better. She could pretend it was closure while ignoring her dreams of redfireskullcrushing-). In the grand scheme of things, her regrets and disappointments were insignificant compared to the vastness of life and the universe. Her time had come, and the credits could start rolling in.
Except she rein-fucking-carnated.
What a joke. Who actually experiences this? Does everyone? Am I the only one? Am I supposed to remember?
She was alive; she had a chance that not many could achieve. She could restart and live life over again without making any mistakes. Any regrets.
Yet, she wasn't sure if she wanted that anymore.
To live again. To do it all over. There were just some things the human mind could not handle. She had too many memories and too many experiences to simply let them go and restart; her regrets, mistakes, and struggles made her who she was. The thought of starting anew was insulting; she would be betraying the person she used to be.
Correction: the person she is. (She needed to get this sorted out before she went insane. Did she steal the body of the original owner? Is she mentally older than an infant now? Was she a special snowflake, meant to be reborn with her memories intact? Was it an error and at any moment she could die again? Should she go the infamed prodigy route? How does one pretend to be a child?)
How could she carry on in a new life when she wasn't over her old one?
She took advantage of her new infant status. Babies have a reputation for crying, after all.
So cry she did.
The months passed slowly. As she learned to decipher and speak the common language and reach for objects with chubby, uncoordinated hands, she began to forget. Not the important things—nothing that made her lose her sense of self—but the little things.
She couldn't remember the taste of her mother's famous apple pie by the time she could coo. She forgot the color of her father's eyes when she could walk. By the time she started to form lispy sentences, she couldn't recall the names of her siblings, or their faces.
She felt an acute sense of loss as parts of her identity faded away. It was a bittersweet dance of discovery and forgetting. For everything new she learned, she lost precious instances. It was a constant battle to hold on to what made her an individual, what made her different. Her memories defined her and it was the only weapon she had as time gradually passed.
She was lucky, though; her new guardian was attentive enough to never let her sink too deeply into her thoughts.
She's probably the only reason I'm still sane and not crippling with depression.
Her new mother (and boy, wasn't that odd to think) was extremely proud of her, bragging to anyone who listened. Her child was extremely intelligent and curious; a genius in the making. Smart and beautiful just like her mother, she would brag. Her new mother was especially amused whenever she caught her daughter trying to decipher the ancient calligraphy on the walls with an encyclopedia she could barely read.
It probably wasn't fair having a daughter who cried excessively, dug around in the dirt for 'rare rocks', and preferred to stay secluded in their house reading and questioning everything instead of playing with other children. She was strange, but she tried her best to act as a good child, remembering vaguely how children acted from her time spent watching her younger siblings, for both their sakes.
Despite the challenges, her mother made consistent efforts to support her interests and create a safe space that was loving and supportive. Sometimes it felt suffocating, the way her mother loved her unconditionally. Despite memories of her past family, she couldn't remember a time when she was the sole recipient of such... devotion.
She turned over in her crib hammock, feeling the netting rock with her weight. Her mother had put her down for a nap, but like always, even if her eyes were closed, she wasn't sleeping. Her inability to sleep mirrored her restless mind. But over the months, she became better at hiding her feelings of paranoia and longing.
Naps were tolerable only because the dim darkness behind her eyelids mirrored the one from before. The stretch of darkness where she simply existed (a secret she couldn't possibly tell anyone or let alone understand. Her constant desire to return to her past, to the dark, to someplace that felt secure, safe, and oh-so-familiar. What human mind could understand that level of trauma?).
She glanced at the woman beside her. Her new mother was as strange as her too-intelligent, crybaby daughter.
Her new mom, sitting before a fruit bowl on a stool with watercolors in one hand and brushes in the other, seemed tired, but she never complained. A cool ocean breeze filtered from the open patio. Her guardian's partner was somewhere out of sight (ugh, she hated thinking about that particular anomaly).
Uche—long, silky brown hair that curled with a strange green and red tint, clever tan eyes that twinkled with laughter, and caramel-kissed brown skin—was a single parent.
She found it odd at first; where was her father? Casting her mind back to that horrendous day- her birth- she couldn't remember a male blob who greeted her with as much affection as Uche. She knew that often, war or poverty made men leave their homes for extended periods. After carefully observing Uche's mannerisms, she determined that her new life had never experienced a battle, never mind a war, and the economy was perfectly stable. Why else would Uche bring home different cakes stuffed with fruits every weekend for a 'feel-good sweet cheat day'?
In the beginning, it saddened her heart. Past memories revealed how good and loving a two-parent household could be; she remembered that she had bonded with her father the most. But despite the time she spent waiting, another parental figure had never shown up. Sure, people came and went to check on the newfound mother and offered their help, but none ever stayed.
Uche, on the other hand, didn't seem particularly bothered. She was used to being independent, allowing her to navigate through life without feeling the need to depend on others. For all her kindness, she was proud. Her pride was evident in her unwavering commitment to maintaining her independence by raising a child by herself.
While eavesdropping, she discovered that Uche firmly believed that a marriage built on trust and honesty was the only kind worth pursuing, even if it meant foregoing the societal expectations placed upon her. She refused all handouts with a gentle smile and, when pushed, laughed dreamily at the elders who wished she would, "Make an honest husband out of one of the lads at the wharf."
"And if they weren't honest before? How ever could I marry a man who's dishonest and will quite possibly cheat on his wife?"Uche's dreamy smile would turn a tad bit sharper; a brazen, and dangerous warning.
Most grandmothers stopped asking after that.
"All I need in this life is you and our island. Who cares about the rest?" Uche would tell her cry-baby daughter while laughing wildly, the sound like chimes, and her voice soft as honey.
What others always noticed about Uche first was her beauty; her charm and grace second. What she noticed about her new mother was her strength. She was as stubborn and free as the ocean they slept next to. It was easy to admire the woman. It was hard trying to hate her.
It was also unnaturally easy to love her as well.
And that, honestly, hurt the most.
Even if I'm okay with dying again, I'm not cruel enough to scare the poor woman and murder a child.
As she lay in her crib hammock, feeling the breeze kiss her cheek, she shifted, turning her ridiculously heavy head away from her new mother to the other side, where the open floor plan bedroom revealed the island.
The home that she and her mother resided in was quaint and only a fifteen-minute uphill walk from the main town. The house had a perfect view of both the ocean and the village, containing one large bedroom, a kitchen and bathroom, and a wraparound porch that led to a garden.
She let loose a breath that sounded close to a sigh, feeling more than seeing Uche pause. Her new mom glanced over at her before chuckling and then turning back to working on her painting.
She opened her eyes, staring at the expanse that made up her new world.
Another mess of emotions to deal with- realizing she was living a new life in a different world.
For it was a very, very different world.
Vibrant colors of unfamiliar fantastical creatures were etched into various paintings and tapestries that hung on the walls of her home. They were decorated with strange symbols that seemed to come alive, beckoning her to tear apart their mysteries. No matter how many times she looked at them or tried to decipher them, she could never fully grasp their meaning. The curiosity killed her, and Uche stubbornly remained firm in keeping the symbols a mystery, annoying her further.
When Uche took her on the occasional trip to the market, she noticed that all the tropical brown-skinned natives had hairstyles that were unconventional and eye-catching, adorned in various tones of pinks and greens, reds and oranges, and even golds and purples. Each color looked bright enough to dye, but on further inspection, she realized it was naturally growing from their heads.
This included Uche's, whose coloring was quite odd even by native standards. When her chestnut hair lifted in the breeze, it shimmered with a color that wasn't quite red or green.
Luckily, her hair and skin tone were similar to what she had in her past life. Deep caramel skin and kinky, wild black curls (inherited by her absent father, Uche had offhandedly commented once). The only differences were her eyes (big, sharp, and a haunting copper) and the freckles along her nose, which she tried not to think about too deeply.
The island air was unusually crisp as if pollution wasn't a concern. While refreshing, it made it harder to puzzle out the pieces. Her mother and most of their neighbors never used a car for transportation, relying on more traditional means. They walked. Everywhere. She once saw a boy fly past on a bike, so she knew she wasn't in some type of stone-age, medieval era. Modern technology exists. The most modern item they owned was an extremely outdated computer, reminiscent of the older, bulkier processors from decades ago.
The technology in this world appears to be older than what I'm used to, so is the island a reflection of its time or is it simply behind?
She couldn't necessarily walk out of the house and go exploring, so most of her questions stayed unanswered. All of her knowledge was limited to what her mother had shown her and the short trips down to town. The answers she found often led to more questions.
It was almost like living in a fantasy. Overly friendly shopkeepers, a small island adorned in brighter colors with even brighter people. Creatures and myths of legends danced in the corners of her eye. With her motor skills still under development, she would do her best to be patient and learn all she could about her new world before deciding.
She hadn't concluded yet on how she planned to live. She didn't know if she still wanted to. After all, if she was just going to die again (the where or how did not matter- only when), what would be the point in living? She was still grappling with the idea of embracing her new reality.
For now, let's take it one day at a time.
Alola Region: Hau'oli City, Melemele Island
The region is made of four predominant islands plus a floating artificial island.
In the north sat Melemele Island, the calmest island where every day meant soft, sunny skies and perfect waves for surfing; its routes gently slope towards the middle of the island, shaping a gradual mountain. Akala Island, in the east, contains thundering waterfalls and Alola's only active volcano, hosting most of the region's population due to the isles' natural sights.
Southbound lay Ula'ula Island, the largest, but most dangerous due to its weather fluctuations and terrain. Aether Paradise, a massive modern-day construction sat in the center of the archipelagos and served as the headquarters of the Aether Foundation, the region's main research facility. (This piqued her interest greatly, but Uche refused to answer her questions about it). Heading west led to Poni Island, the uninhabited island; surrounding legends claim that the isle is ruthless, obliterating any settlers who overstay their welcome.
Alola was a beautiful, vibrant place that was rich in culture and full of life, purpose, and dreams.
It was a place that made her anxious.
The Alola region isn't like the opposing eight regions of the world. If Kanto was a place that prided itself on its science, amazing the world with technological innovations and advancements daily; and Sinnoh, a region world renown for its lore, being the host of rich histories and traditions; then Alola carried a certain mystique quality to it that inhibited every one of the Alolan isles.
When asked, several tourists and mainlanders claimed that upon stepping onto the archipelago they felt a seductive connection that one could only experience in and pink sand beaches coupled with gentle waves. Lush fruit-bearing trees and flowers bathed the island in a citrus and floral scent. It was a place that never made one want to leave the tourist would sigh.
Uche, however, would scoff at these starry-eyed tourists. Her lips would thin, and her eyes would slightly narrow with distaste. The expression often went unnoticed, or her slightly, barely awake demeanor made it easy to overlook and thus easier to ignore while she was working.
Once, her curiosity had been too great to deny. She had silently accompanied (as she often did—Uche could not afford a babysitter and did not want to leave her smarter-than-average four-year-old toddler home alone; at least, not yet, even with the retired baker next door insisting that he had no problem watching her) to the resort.
In the reception area of the resort, the air conditioning vent blew a gentle breeze. She sat on top of the reception desk, her eyes half-closed, looking at her mother. Uche had started to hum, a gentle vibration that caressed her ears. Uche began to gather her belongings from the employee locker and placed them into her bag.
"Makuahine?"
As she whipped her floral work shirt over her head, Uche hummed her affirmation that she had heard. That did not mean she would answer, however. She was selective with her truth, giving it out only when she thought it was appropriate. It was both stupidly frustrating (as openly stated by her not-daughter) and intriguing how she kept her thoughts and emotions hidden behind a mask of nonchalance. Uche always controlled the narrative of her life, revealing only what she wanted others to see. A puzzle that everyone wanted to solve but couldn't quite crack.
It was as maddening as it was clever.
"Who are the people in lab coats? You don't like them. Why?" Never let it be said that she wasn't as taciturn and blunt as before her reincarnation.
She could vividly recall Uche's expression as she practically sneered at a couple who approached the kiosk earlier today. They were raving and preening about the resort, right before Uche's shift ended. At first, she assumed it was another overly obnoxious pair of tourists. What she noticed about this couple, however, was the stark white lab coats they wore. This made her perk up in attention. The lab coats were calls from her past, and with their appearance came answers. Societies were advanced enough to ponder and create. It was a sense of familiarity she starved for.
The pair of scientist wanted to extend their stay on the 'exotic' and 'charming' islands before heading back to the research facility. Tourists are one of, if not the top source, of Alola's income. Their little isle in particular is centered on catering to them; the resort Uche works at is the only one the island holds, so her ire presented a paradox that made little sense to her.
"They are researchers of Aether Foundation. People that hold no respect for us," replied Uche, her smile like sriracha. She turned to face her shocked daughter (Uche had finally given a straight answer!), now changed into a black tank, and folded her uniform. "Coming into our homes to appreciate our culture is one thing. Wanting to take it and treat us as spectacles while doing it is another."
One of the other receptionists on closing duty, Mei, overheard the remark and groaned, shutting her locker. "You talking about the tourist again, Uche?"
"'ere we go," muttered a passing security guard. He crossed his arms, stopping to listen. Everyone in town knew of Uche's infamous hatred of outsiders.
"No, but them as well." Uche narrowed her eyes before she lifted her chin. "Of those that come here, not a single one holds good intentions for us. They don't even care for us as people. Simply a quick profit in the market."
Used to Uche's obvious displeasure, Mei snorted before skirting the comment with ease, "Didya hear? By the wharf, the sailors were saying they overheard the Mayor turning down that Foundation President again."
Uche's face went blank, stuffing her shirt into the bag. "How much was offered? Did the Mayor accept?" she asked.
"Price went up to 15 million, but Major Vineyard still refuses to sell," Mei confirmed. Uche sighed, halting the assault on her shirt. Mei glanced over her shoulder before whispering poorly, "If ya ask me, it's fishy. There's nothing in the cursed ruins we don't already know of. Bunch of overgrown trees, so why buy something that's not for sale?"
Due to eavesdropping on most of Uche's rants, she understood the basics, but most of this was new to her. All she knew about the Aether Foundation was that they were a renowned scientific organization that was dedicated to researching and protecting the unique ecosystems of the islands.
However, in the most recent months, the Aether Foundation has become increasingly proactive. No longer content on their floating island, they started to look for land on the main archipelago. Uche, like most of the islanders, was concerned. The issue was that most of the land the Foundation pursued was sacred ruins protected by the Guardian Deities. They pursued the ruins but claimed to protect its' history; it didn't add up.
"Vineyard is a stronger man than most." Yawned the security guard. "Don't know what that Aether President and her white-coat devils want, but know it ain't for us. In the words of the Elders, 'curious children up to no good.'"
Another clerk whom she didn't know the name of approached, interrupting the conversation. "But don't you think the mayor should consider the offer? 15 million is a lot. Think about all the improvements we could make to the town!"
"But the Resort provides us with more than enough money," commented Mei.
"It's only a matter of time before Mayor 'cepts the deal. I know I would. At most, we lose a coup' trees, move some houses around, and the woodland creatures move on," shrugged the security guard before stretching and walking off.
Uche, who remained quiet, blandly watched him go. "Then you are a fool." She muttered, albeit none too softly. She hoisted her bag up and swiftly plucked her daughter from the counter.
Looking into Uche's eyes now, there was a fire in them. The desire to fight and protect their land and heritage despite the profit gained.
Shaking her head, Uche's mouth tightened and pinched before she lowered her eyes to look down. The steel and resolve of her gaze could freeze ice. Holding it with her own, she was slightly afraid to break it. Nervous as the woman made her, she wouldn't be cowed; she was finally getting answers dammit!
Maybe asking this particular question was a bad idea. It's too late to take it back. Since she's fired up, I hope she'll be in a more talkative mood.
"Mai chibi-chan, what do I always say?"
"The only things in life you need are me and the island," she quotes automatically. Uche started to laugh, but she cut her off, desperate to get another straight answer out of the strange woman. "But what's important about the ruins? Why does the Aether Foundation want them so badly?"
"Chibi-chan is concerning herself with adult conversations again." Uche didn't even try to sound surprised. "What am I doing wrong as a parent, I wonder? For my child to be concerned with grown-up matters and not her springtime youth?"
The stab of guilt cut her deeply at that statement. She'd never be a normal child, and it wasn't Uche's fault. She jerkily shook her head, while trying her best to push the guilt away. She refused to give in to the bait. She won't let Uche sidetrack her.
Uche started petting her head, letting out a tired sigh. "You think too hard, chibi-chan. It's simple: they want what all men crave. Power. And they think the key is on the island, hidden in our ruins. Follow the old legends, and it'll lead you to glory."
"The legends?"
Mei cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the mother-daughter duo. Her expression became serious. With a tone tinged with mystery, she spoke, "The elders claim that the Guardian Deities hold a shard of ultimate power. Lost in the ruins, the first to claim it will have the power to grant any wish."
Sounds made up. Another check on the growing list that makes this world weird.
"Has anyone come close to finding it?" she wondered aloud.
Mei snorted, "Yah, I have... when I get drunk and decide to streak naked in the woods!" she howled.
Uche exhaled, glaring at her coworker. Quickly heading towards the exit, she left the woman behind, ignoring Mei's whiny calls. "Come on, Uche! That was funny! Don't be so serious!"
A smack resounded as Uche walked through the glass doors. "Why would you say that? Uche's going to kill us!" begged the no-name coworker (she needed to get better at remembering names) before Mei could yell again.
"Ouch! It was a joke! They know I didn't mean it!" Mei's shouts followed after.
Uche's face was flushed with frustration as she continued to walk away. "Pay no mind to people like them. Some like to walk blind and don't see the tentacool until it's under their feet." Uche advised. The odd phrase made her start, filing the questions that brought up away for later. She'd wait for Uche to cool down before she resumed her interrogation, ahem, inquiries.
Once outside, she had to blink a couple of times to adjust to the evening sun, with orange beams greeting them from above the salty shoreline. They walk through the town's bustling streets, with colorful storefronts lining the sidewalks. Uche set a brisk pace, walking past store owners closing their shops.
"Remember the tapestry in our room?" Uche asks suddenly.
How could I forget? She went to bed while tracing the outlines. The vibrant colors and intricate patterns had always brought a sense of warmth and comfort to their odd home. She nodded.
"The story of brave heroes and their treacherous journey for the shards are on it. It's mere folklore, but the truth of the history of our people lies within it."
"Is the location of the ultimate shard on it? Is this why haven't you read it to me before?"
Passing by the vendors who shouted greetings, Uche sent back little waves and switched topics. "Never go near the south-side ports. If you see anyone wearing all-white clothes, don't approach or talk to them, even if they speak to you first. "
Ugh, she's doing it again. Avoiding things she doesn't want to talk about. It's unfair.
A dark part of her mind whispered back, the pot calling the kettle ignored the irony.
"You mean the researchers? Why would they speak to me?"
Uche raised an eyebrow. "Who else is as smart as my chibi-chan? Those mandibuzz easily snatch up children with brains like yours."
"You know, your distractions aren't working. If you don't read the story to me, it'll only be a matter of time before I decipher it." If Uche was going to play dirty, then so was she. Uche waited patiently. Sensing a losing battle, she caved first.
"Fine, makuahine. I'll stay away from Southport. Satisfied?"
Uche smiled brightly and gently caressed her wild curls. She would never admit it aloud, but the action comforted her. "Mai chibi-chan, others may be unconcerned, but we need to be careful. Alola is here, and it is home. If we protect her, then she protects us, understand?"
Sadly, she thought, I don't understand enough.
"I understand, makuahine."
Seeing her pout, Uche decided to have mercy on her curious daughter. "In Alola, reading the text is considered a rite of passage. When children reach a certain age, they learn the legends, get their partners, and start attending school." Uche explained, planting a kiss on her head. "It's important to respect and honor the traditions of our ancestors. By learning about the legends and attending school, we ensure that Alola remains a safe and prosperous place for future generations."
Tilting her head to the side, she felt a sense of unease. "When's the rite of passage?"
Uche sighed dramatically, hitching her higher on her hip. "I shouldn't be telling you this. At all. The Elders enjoy doing the talking and the history lessons. Makes them feel important, yeah? What if you get me in trouble chibi-chan?"
She rolled her eyes. "We'll keep it a secret between us, then." Putting her pride aside, she used a trait that all children were famous for. Begging. "Please, tell me. Not knowing is killing me." She pleaded with a pout, hoping to appeal to their shared sense of dramatics. "I promise I won't tell anyone else; I just need to know!"
Now it was Uche's turn to roll her eyes. She lowered her voice, mindful of the potential gossiping grannies. She didn't want them overhearing and snitching to the Elders. "The spring after you turn five. That's when most of the other children come of age as well. It's easier to do it in one big lump."
That bad feeling she mentioned before? It intensified. "How old is old enough for school?"
"Six. That way, children have some years before they're ten, and the Elders can teach the basics before you all go off."
"...does that mean all the adults know where the shard is? What happens when I'm ten? Where am I going? Why do children need to get their partners at five and not ten?"
Uche hummed, pinching her cheek. "I wonder...?"
She swatted at her impish mother, who laughed and retaliated by tickling her sides until they crested the hill and arrived home. In their bedroom, Uche sat her down with a kiss on the forehead and left her to her own devices while she headed to the kitchen, preparing dinner with the aid of her bonded partner.
Absently, she picked up her book, a children's workbook for writing. She meant to work ahead on learning the combination of kanji and English this world wrote in, but she could only stare at the wall adorned with the newly revealed legend.
Uche's words made it clear that, although the island seemed peaceful, this world also had its potential dangers. The only useful information Uche revealed was the importance of the tapestry; and the emphasized need to protect Alola. Despite her best efforts, she still couldn't decipher the symbols and had accepted defeat months ago. With the new information presented to her, she began to reconsider.
With the time spent around her not-mother, she couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility towards their home. However, deep down, she knew the truth. She had no real attachment to Alola. Not like Uche, who had grown and cherished every aspect of their home.
She was a chicken egg in a cuckoo's nest—an imposter. She would never truly belong in this vibrant and close-knit community. She was an anomaly, not meant for this world.
The rite of passage messed with her plans. Instead of simply waiting for a chance at death, she now had a little more than half a year to die. The rite meant commitment—a promise to live her life fully in this world. To love, grow, and slowly recover from the trauma of clinging to aspects of her old life. Letting new experiences shape her, and redefine her morals into this world's society.
Before learning of the ritual, she had decided that she would live, but barely. If she happened to contract a mysterious illness by eating a poisonous berry or mushroom... or if she was playing and then accidentally fell headfirst onto a hard rock in the meantime, then: Oh well.
But now there was a countdown. She didn't have the luxury to slowly unravel mysteries or be picky about how she dies. She despised change. Things out of her control. She couldn't control when or how she died in her past life. Her death was the only thing she could control in this new life. The ticking timer made her decision final, turning maybe into guarantees. She couldn't be indecisive, not anymore.
But there was also something else now. Giving her something she hadn't felt in a long time: hope.
The existence of a 'shard of ultimate power' changed everything. If its existence wasn't mere folklore, then perhaps she could find a way to truly control her fate. This 'shard' granted the user any wish of their choosing; who's to say that the wish granted the impossible? Like returning a reincarnator to their previous life?
It was idioticly optimistic and foolish. Downright hopeless. But she had survived past foolishness once before. She could do it again. She was living proof of idiotic things that couldn't be explained away.
Uche didn't confirm the fact that the tapestry revealed the shards' location, but she didn't deny it either. The idea of finding the shard and making a wish seemed like a long shot, but she was willing to take the risk.
Sometimes, crazy ideas were the ones that ended up working.
Putting her workbook to the side, she looked towards the kitchen. It was fine if Uche didn't want to give her straight answers. She'd find them on her own. Walking to the bookshelf, she found a blank notebook. Taking it back to her spot, she settled in.
She had research to do.