Nameless Thoughts of an Onlooker

5

"Thank you, thank you so, so-,"

"Of course, anytime!"

"-much. Is it ok? We don't know when we'll be able to pay..."

"Don't worry, it's really not an issue." 

"Bless your soul, without you-, without this medicine-," 

The old man's quiet voice cracked, the geezer seemingly about to bawl as Hebe softly comforted him.

I snorted, leaning back into the apple tree behind me as I zoned out of the muffled conversation. Ignoring the words leaking out from inside the house, I lazily scanned the little herb garden, my gaze eventually rising up to a noisy branch high above my head. An obscured nest rang with squeaks, two yellow beaks screaming towards the sky as a bird landed nearby. It jumped a few steps forward, leaning down into the nest to feed a gaping mouth. It straightened out once more, although the fed beak still followed it with continuous screeches. The adult bird tilted its head to a fro, a moment passing before it lowered again - back towards the fed beak. The second hungry beak wailed relentlessly, but no one paid it any mind. 

"This world is truly selfish," I drawled, the back door a few feet away releasing a low squeak as Hebe finally left the shack. 

"What are you philosophizing about now?" 

A pinch stung my earlobe, the unexpected touch causing me to startle. 

I clicked my tongue, jerking my head away as I grimaced at the woman. Her teasing grin grew as I rubbed my ear, willing the pain away. What an aggravating personality.

"What philosophizing? I'm just stating an obvious point: this world is selfish." 

"Yes, yes, I'm so selfish letting you idle around my home as you recover for three months." Hebe, naturally, replied with light sarcasm even while distracted, the brunette squatting down to inspect bushels of her cherished plants. 

"Idling? I'm idling? What's this then?" I hurriedly lifted the bundle of yarn in my hands to accompany my protest, waiting patiently for her to throw me a disinterested glance. "Since the moment I woke up you've been pushing work onto me! I've been knitting and sewing every day! At this point, I'd practically be the head seamstress of my-," I abruptly cut off, swallowing once before finishing my sentence, "-of my traveling group." 

Hebe disregarded my blunder, her brows raising as she gently grasped a few green leaves. She changed her position, elegantly folding her legs under her as she sat by the plant.

"Well, your wounds are almost healed, especially that leg of yours. Aren't you happy that you'll be leaving soon and be done with such tiresome work?"

My arms haltingly lowered, my mind churning. Leaving? My body acted faster than my brain when I first awoke - it knew that I needed to return to Ikthar to guarantee my loyalty. But...but the captain wouldn't be able to fault me for returning late. I had nearly died from an ambush, and I was still not in healthy shape, after all. 

"Isn't that Sentinel captain still surrounding the village? Not that I have a reason to fear him - it might just be awkward for him to suddenly see my unfamiliar face. I haven't been going out into the village at all, so he hasn't had the opportunity to meet me...and I can't really leave and potentially create an awkward situation with a respectable man like him, right? So even if I want to, I can't leave until he leaves!" 

I still had that terrifying Dutch to watch for, so I wasn't being traitorous. In such a situation, the captain wouldn't be able to fault me for not returning right after I had healed.

The house door creaked, familiar clucking announcing the addition of that meddling chicken. 

"I'm sure it won't take too long for Sir Dutch to be called to another post. You can leave after that."  

A soft breeze blew past the wooden fences, rushing through the herbs. It meddled with the woman's hair, causing Hebe to tuck a bright long strand behind her ear. The chicken hurriedly rushed towards her, pecking at the ground by her feet. 

Annoyance abruptly welled within my chest, heat rising to my neck as I sneered and looked away. 

"I can see that you're eager to drive me away. What, are you that ungrateful?" My eyes shifted back towards her, an accusing finger pointing out. "Just with someone's two pathetic tears you give your medicine away for free - and we're not even talking about your cheap prices for a home visit! If it weren't for the sales of my knitting, we'd have no money to eat right now! You-, you'd have to eat that stupid chicken of yours!" 

Hebe turned her head, giving me a disapproving scowl as she used a hand to pat the hen. 

"We're not eating Lele. I saved her, so of course we can't eat her." 

I bent forward, my left leg stiffly twisting with the movement. My eyes narrowed as I pointedly met her expectant look. 

"Your generosity is ridiculous." 

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open just an inch from surprise. And then, to my own vexation, her lips twitched, reaching out into a broad smile as she unabashedly...laughed. 

I waited, my brows furrowing in confusion as I quietly watched her. Her happy expression seemingly shimmered in the sunlight, reflecting her joy to her surroundings; I couldn't quite bring myself to look away this time. 

"Generosity?" She wiped shiny tears from her sparkling eyes, her usual exasperating expression returning. "It's not generosity." 

"What do you mean?" I folded my arms, leaning back onto the tree. 

"I suppose...," she returned to her previous task, scrutinizing the sprouts at her side, "Your previous statement was really on the mark: this world is selfish. Selfishness transcends all else - it's really something inescapably innate to every living being, especially sentient ones." Hebe looked up at me, a questioning smile gracing her lips. "When a brother doesn't want to share his numerous toys with his sister, is he being selfish?"

"Yes."

"When a woman gives up her own food to a beggar on the street, is she being selfish?" 

"No, normally she wouldn't be." I tried examining the situation from every angle I could, but my conclusion still remained the same. 

"I think she is." She didn't give me time to speak before throwing me another question. "What does that woman feel when she fulfills that deed?" 

"Perhaps...pity? Maybe remorse at uselessly losing her own meal?" 

Hebe chuckled, giving me a look. 

"You could be right. She could be feeling pity, and she could be feeling remorse. But deep down, there is also self-servitude, disguised as a form of self-satisfaction. That self-servitude drives us all, doesn't it? It doesn't matter what good deed you do: you'd still be completing it for your own sense of gratification. We are all selfish. Some feel a great sense of satisfaction at having all their toys to themselves, while others obtain happiness by giving their toys away. And so everyone walks through their lives, weighing when they would feel gratification at sharing and when at keeping. But, inherently, both are the same. Both are still done for one's own happiness. If there was absolutely nothing to be gained - no satisfaction, and not even the promise of satisfaction in the future - an action will not be performed. What do you think?" 

I held her clear gaze, a small part of me absent-mindedly pleased at the curiosity in her eyes. 

"I'd have to think about it more." A thought struck me, my knitting hands stilling. "Is that why you took me in? You took me in just to obtain a sense of satisfaction?" 

Hebe's brows raised with her feigned expression of pondering, a finger tapping her cheek. 

"I wonder?" 

"What grandiose sense of gratification you carry - it drags you into danger just for actualization! I see a head on your shoulders, but it doesn't seem to be in use!" My angry words rang through the garden, at odds with the woman's clear laughter. She only shrugged before responding. 

"Make no mistake: I know very well the potential consequences of my actions. My father was killed by someone he had saved. But, what can I do? It's how I was raised; it's how I am now. And I don't regret it."

"Unbelievable," I finally muttered under my breath.

The irritating woman simply smiled.