//Day 2 | Location: Nameless Forest - Lakeside@Yankee@Nakushita@Vertigo@baraquiel"Hokkaido..."She had thought that she had resolved herself, had accepted it. She thought that she had felt all there was to feel, and now the numbness would settle in so that she wouldn't be a snot-faced mess. But it wasn't that easy, was it? Yukiko had felt his pulse fade at last, had heard his last breath rasp out between slightly-parted lips, had saw that near-indistinct change in complexion once the blood no longer flowed. Had saw the expression on Asahi's face. Her nose tickled. Her jaw tightened. Her fists clenched over her pleated skirt. Her breath came sharply, erratically. Her eyes reddened once more, cheeks flushed with a
shame that all she could accomplish was watch and cry.
Duncan had left. He had long known the result, and so did she. But Yukiko couldn't leave. She remained there, rooted, biting back the tears, incapable of even telling Asahi that it wasn't even his fault, that he didn't everything that he could, that she was thankful he cared enough to do all this.
An impact sounded by the doorway, a fist striking wood. The shelter was fragile; it shook from the blow as Daisuke bit back his own desire to scream. His face contorted, shadows cast over it by the morning light behind. Blood trickled down from his knuckles but he held back his own desire to strike again. His was a crushing self-loathing, one that had built up throughout the entirety of two nights and two days beneath the surface, one that burst out now that there was no way of redoing it, of making up for his mistake. Who had been the one to lead them all and rush that one monster? He had been. And this was the result. If they had waited just a bit longer, if they had chosen to run instead, wouldn't Duncan and Asahi have Awakened anyways? He held it back, that desire to rage, but he didn't have the right either, to intrude upon this place.
One step. Another step. And Daisuke left, seeking something to do, something to keep his mind off it all.
...
Masami had woken up early to wash herself in the lake.
To purify herself, perhaps.
Despite the cold, she scrubbed herself clean of the soot from the flames. She ran her fingers through her damp hair, trying to straighten out any clumps. She rinsed her mouth and spat it out into the dirt. She washed her face with a damp handkerchief, dully understanding that it had been two nights since she had used a proper cleanser. She had stayed ankle-deep in the shallows, clearing her mind with the chill of the gentle waves.
And as the mist evaporated, as the day warmed up, she turned. There Masato was.
One thing no one taught you was that asking a peer to perform funeral rites for a mutual classmate was incredibly awkward. It sucked, suffice to say. Masato knew a little about Takehara's background, and though he didn't know if she still kept up with her shrine duties or if she even knew how to do what he was asking. They didn't have much they could use for offerings either, and purification was... probably impossible. But anything was better than nothing. So he explained that Endo had passed, and swallowed the awkwardness to flat out ask her to assist.
"Anything you can do. Even just some prayers would be good, I think," he went on, his voice neutral.
A sigh. She wasn't that close to Yuki. Honestly, she never liked him to begin with. Shallow twerp, that guy was, always chasing after the few girls that didn't learn to ignore his flirtations the first time around. She remembered back when he was still a chubby kid with a bowl cut, running around with a stick to poke dead cicadas or cow poop with. She remembered too many memories that were more embarrassing than fond. That was the thing about Kuroshio. Small town like this, even when you didn't like someone, you'd still have plenty of memories about them.
"Of course." That was what she had been doing all morning, preparing for this. That was what she had
failed to do for Yuudai, in the rush to escape, the rush to move on, the rush to ignore that small grave where only gorey pulp was buried. She'll do it right this time, and hope that Yuudai forgive her for failing him.
"Leave it to me, prez."...
They didn't have time, not really. Breakfast was practically just leftover soup, diluted to nothing in order to fill the stomachs with something. There was plenty to be done. Most set off, as a result. Most of them hadn't come to terms yet, with the fact that Yuki was dead. There had been nothing recognizable left when it came to Yuudai, but here? It looked as if he was asleep. Yet it looked as if something had changed, in its entirety.
It was a simple affair.
Daisuke, under Masami's instructions, had cleaned Yuki's body best he could, spooning water from the lake so that they didn't end up
tainting their only source of fresh water.
Ayano, of all people, had used what remained of her makeup kit to give Yuki the semblance of life, if nothing else. Clearing out blemishes, smoothing out the complexion, adding a bit of blush.
Yukiko had set off to the perimeter of the camp, plucking what wildflowers she could find. It was only enough for a handful of scattered blooms, but their brilliance was a vivid thing nonetheless, and she placed them in Yuki's folded arms.
Though they didn't have incense, Hana had found some damp moss, enough so that it could be set to smoulder and smoke. She didn't linger to see the ceremony however, and strode off alongside Rin.
Under normal circumstances, there would have been a wake before the burial. But here, it was done simultaneously. Masami chanted her sutras, a daughter of a priest in full. Words were whispered to the deaf dead. They lowered Yuki's body eight feet into the earth, before scrambling out. Strange, how distant eight feet was.
Strange, knowing that there would be nothing of Yuki's to return to his family, if they ever escaped the Otherside.
A handful of dirt was held in Duncan's hand. He had dug out the grave himself. It was only right then, that he ought to be the one who began the process of filling it back up.
...
Hiroshi learned of the future, and tragically, it appeared that the future was strangely predictable. He could've guessed such fates, after all, with just a bit of imagination. And such fates could be avoided too, with just a bit of good advice, given and taken.
But still, it was interesting enough, seeing how far delusion mixed with faith. The religious still considered themselves capable of determining what was fantasy and what was reality, despite their beliefs in the supernatural. Could this 'Oros' not be the same thing? Outside of the whole possibility of dissociative disorder manifesting from stress.
"Well," he said, gazing at the small lean-to shelter that Oros had made,
"Planning on joining them? That funeral's probably for Yuki."
@AThousandCursesWas that smoke she smelled?
No, it must just be a figment of the imagination.
With food her first priority, Shun stepped out into the forest once more, eyes alert for any sign of something edible. All she knew was the direction
away from the lake, and she went that direction without much deliberation. It would be bad, in some ways, if her fellow Awakened students came across her, tried to convince her to stay with them. It would be worse if she encountered Ayana-Oros again.
But she did not.
She encountered a patch of mushrooms, ones with sepia caps and purple spots instead, clustered inside a pile of decaying leaves. There were hard berries clinging to another bush further off, dense enough that it looked unlikely to be very juicy at all. A few plants reminded her of the dandelions back home, the ones that you could make tea or a vegetable dish out of. The insects that she had brushed off herself, of course, could be eaten too if she was feeling adventurous. But it was only going to take the edge off her hunger. She needed meat. Thick, sizzling steaks of meat! Everything on the forest floor, compared to meat, was just a
garnish.
And then, Shun's foot sank down three inches.
There it was, a footprint four times her own, pressed into the soft soil. A giant-sized predator. Potential prey for her, if she could down it. Certainly massive enough that tracking it wouldn't be difficult even for a street-punk like herself. But she was alone too. Could she risk it, fighting a creature that could very well squash her flat? She remembered them, those hulk-phants. The massive creatures who crashed through the bus as if it were nothing more than a cardboard box.
Who had finished off what remained of Yuudai.
What was the risk here? What was the reward?
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