in the ataraxis of aftermath

unagi station

The next morning, Naoko idly watched the scenery flash past through her compartment windows. She had felt like getting out of the city, because it was such a nice day. The sky was a bright blue, splattered here and there with clouds, haphazard but welcome, like marshmallows in hot chocolate.

The station she got off on was small, with only two floors. The top floor (where the train platform was) was dilapidated and covered in large patches of mold. Naoko tugged her mask higher up her face and continued moving.

The escalator was slimy with dark green algae. Naoko gripped the railings tightly, plastic pulling across her knuckles, to avoid falling in. The humidity clung to her skin like a soaked napkin.

The algae was not the biggest concern, though. This part of the country was dangerously below water level. The train stations had been elevated, and yet, as Naoko stepped off the escalator, the water was waist-deep.

Naoko sloshed towards the double glass doors, pushing aside floating debris. The water was slightly clearer here - a faded gray color instead of the usual deep black. She could see the faint outline of her waders billowing around her. Its texture was more like olive oil as opposed to the usual honey-like consistency. Naoko would relish the experience while she could.

After slowly shoving one of the doors open, Naoko studied the scenery sprawling before her. A set of planks criss-crossed the shingled rooftops, some just barely above the surface of the water, but others had their whole top floor mostly in the clear. They stood tall, like dark pyramids. Most of the shingles were crumbling and unstable, but the foundations seemed to be firm. Naoko hoped they were firm, anyway. They had to be.

She stepped, carefully, across the first of the boards. It creaked, slightly, but held. Naoko exhaled and relaxed, then continued at a slightly faster pace.

As she walked, she could see the still water ripple. Her gaze automatically turned towards it, crouching lower and trying to hide as best she could while stranded on a plank in between the station and a rooftop.

The water shuddered again, and this time a fin sliced out of it. It was long and thin, like an eel's, with patterned green blotches running down the skin.

It was silent, completely silent, and it slid back down into the water without so much as a drop giving its presence away.

Chills dashed up and down Naoko's spine. She darted across the planks as fast as she could, her brain helpfully supplying imaginary scenarios mainly revolving around the huge fin rising up underneath her.

She made pretty good time. Naoko stepped off on the final wooden panel, shoulders finally unwinding. She took the rope from her backpack and carefully tied it around the roof of the house, then carefully made her way down the side, near the attic window. Swinging back, Naoko pushed both of her feet against the glass, doing this again and again until it finally shattered.

After checking to make sure her rope didn't touch the water, Naoko swung inside, landing with a heavy poof on the damp carpet.

The house wasn't in the worst shape, all things considered. Sure it was dusty and there were small patches of mold creeping out of the corners, but that was normal, at this point. But it wasn't exceptionally dirty. Naoko appreciated that.

She scaled down the attic ladder and landed on the floor. The water was only calf-high here. Naoko appreciated that, too.

Naoko moved to the closest room, pushing the door open.

It looked like it had been a bedroom. A small bed with pink covers was placed in the center. A bookshelf and closet flanked the bed on either side, along with a tiny desk beside the bookshelf. Upon closer inspection, spiders had woven their homes along the bedframe and moths and cockroaches had taken over the closet area. The books on the top shelves were still intact though, and Naoko moved over to the desk, to jot down this newfound treasure trove on her smaller, portable train route map, when she noticed something sitting on top of it.

It was a miniature wooden flute, tied to a leather string. There were little numbers carved alongside the flute's holes. It was so strangely beautiful, so foreignly familiar.

Naoko took it before she could stop herself, tucking it into the front pocket of her waders.

After that, she returned to business as usual, selecting two of the most interesting-looking books from the shelves, taking whatever was floating and packaged and at least slightly edible. Naoko tapped her fingers along the soaked paper rectangles that only barely resembled money. Other than the whistle, the house held nothing of interest. It was a usual day, Naoko supposed as she climbed back up the rope, and then couldn't explain why she felt disappointed and ashamed. This was all normal for her. The only real thing of value she had taken had been the flute, and even then. It was just a flute. Even if someone was alive to claim it - which was incredibly unlikely - Naoko doubted that they would care very much about it.

And yet, the shame still lingered.

It reminded her of when she just started this whole breaking-and-entering scheme. She had used to feel bad about doing this. Some sort of weird embarrassment that made her want to leave a note of apology on the countertop or give them - whoever they were - something in return.

But Naoko hadn't seen anyone for a very long time now. If she was honest with herself, she wasn't sure if anyone was there at all anymore.

These thoughts only swirled and swirled around in her mind, even after she had crossed back over to the station and boarded the train. What if she really was the only one left? What then? Would she just live like this until she perished, whether it be from some unfortunate accident or simply time finally snipping her mortal threads? What was the point of that, then?

But what could she do? She wasn't a doctor or scientist or someone else who could make sense of this mess, somehow, and could figure out what to do, what could be done, how to make it all better.

Even if she was the only one who survived, why her? Naoko thought, twisting the question around in her mind like she could somehow squeeze an answer out of it if she tried hard enough. She wasn't particularly smart or brave or kind. She hadn't done anything of note in the world, not then or now and probably not later.

Naoko was just lucky. This was not "survival of the fittest." Yes, she had been the one to survive, but that was just because she was at the right place and right time. That was it, that was all.