riptide | kyojuro rengoku

II | spontaneous

YOU AWOKE WITH A START, the sound of something clattering outside awakening you suddenly. You let out a sigh of relief, realizing that it was most likely some birds, settling against your mattress once more. After all, was there much to be afraid of? In a house hung off the cliffside, it was only you that resided.

The island you now lived on had a history behind it that claimed the Ocean God had carved this land in an attempt to estrange the Fire God. However, the Fire God had settled down, growing civilization and bestowing his elements to the people that lived there. He fought back, taming the ocean once more.

And in the dangerous cliffside known to be the biggest monument of their history, your small house hung off the side, letting small sprays of sea mist sneak through your windows and bestowing you hanging fruit. Kagaya and Amane had helped you settle down here, teaching you how to groom yourself, reading and writing Braille, and cooking.

Kagaya had even taught you more maneuverability which proved to be helpful considering both of you were as blind as a bat. Still, though, the village of the Fire God wasn't kind. When learning Kagaya's power, they had associated him with the Ocean God and burned him, leaving a nasty scar that little you had endlessly traced over.

He resided elsewhere with Amane and their other children; on an island not far from the one you lived in, you suspected. It was too risky to live alongside you and you understood that, letting them leave you when you were just fifteen. Maybe it would've made more sense for them to take you with them, but you simply couldn't leave.

The death grounds of your father, his crew, all of your non-blood-related aunts and uncles. You didn't have the will to leave, even if it was to preserve your will to live. Kagaya had lived at the cliffside for a long time with Amane before you as well, but if he were to disappear so suddenly, the people hunting for him would've been able to tell.

So, he left you. The only other person that was able to see the ocean's treasure. This world was cruel and unjust, but the people were even more so. For, you knew that even when your father had treated you with the utmost kindness and love, nobody else would do the same. To Kagaya, you were another pawn on the chessboard; one that was cared for more than others.

Still, you were a pawn nonetheless.

Now, you were eighteen. You had celebrated three years of your birthday with only the birds to wish you a happy birthday. However, you had no complaints. The people from the Fire Village had left you alone. Either that or they hadn't noticed that you reside here now. "The mug," You mumbled to yourself, feeling for the clay mug that was chipped at the rims.

Amane had taken you to the shore one day and taught you how to make it; it had been your hobby for months after. Each object in this cliffside house had a precious memory to it, one that gave you a sense of comfort and longing at the same time. When was the last time you had felt so satisfied within your own heart like you had back then?

It was fruitless to squeeze your eyes shut, but you did anyway, finding the mug and bringing it down to where your left hand rested on the countertop. Filling it with filtered water from the faucet, you raised it to your lips, sipping quietly. You had always wanted one of those fancy glasses, but that requires heat to bend it into shape.

And said heat was only available from the Fire Village.

Finishing the mug's contents, you set the cup down in the sink, deciding that you'd rather just wash it later. You stepped towards the window, letting out a breath as you blindly reached out, keeping one hand steady on the rim of the window as your right grasped at the fruit. Carefully, you plucked it from the branches, feeling its shape.

"Pear," You hummed, lifting it towards your nose to smell it. Sometimes it was hard to tell what fruits were hanging out your window. Most of them consisted of mangos and pears, but the grapevines would slowly uncurl during the warmth of the spring, bringing you small green fruits to enjoy.

Plucking a few more, you set them in a small basket on the table near your bed, making a note to rinse them and cut them later. For you, almost everything was pushed to later. You had hoped for some kind of spontaneity in your life, a sense of originality in your routine, but that was only ever hope.

Other than that, your days remained the same; boring and nonexistent. You weren't truly living, but simply surviving. You retraced your footsteps to the tiny kitchen settled near your bedroom and makeshift living room, reaching for the mug you had pushed off till later in order to wash it now.

It was the only mug you had anyways. Just as you set the mug on the rack made of twigs and twine, you froze at the sound of a thump outside your door. Had that just been your imagination? Or maybe it was the sound of the mug itself? However, your thoughts were erased as soon as the sound repeated itself.

An alarm went off in your head and you swallowed harshly, lamely reaching for the fruit knife that was always set on the countertop. You hid it behind your back, taking small steps towards the door and nearly knicking yourself with it when the knock resounded again. The person was growing impatient now, pacing back and forth.

And just as you had wished, that spontaneity you had desired for so long had appeared as you opened the door. Judging by the sound of his voice, the person was a male and you could sense his tenseness from your position just inches from the door. "Can you help—" He paused, words faltering as he stared at you. "—you're just like him."

Yes, your spontaneity had finally arrived, but at a great price.