2024-02-10: ~FLASHBACK~ The Closest Thing To An Angel
- Cutscene: ~FLASHBACK~ The Closest Thing To An Angel
- Cast: Naoko Suzuki (age 8), Uriel
- Where: Naoko's Room, Akaigawa
- Date: March 0088
- Summary: A despondent eight-year old Naoko is close to hitting an emotional breaking point, when the most unlikely of new friends suddenly appears in her life... (CW: Depression)
Back here again.
The first thought when regaining consciousness, every single morning. The realization of having left the world of dreams, of infinite fantastical possibilities, and having been thrust back into... whatever this existence is.
'Reality', people call it. A prison, would be more accurate. No choice but to accept life for what it is, unable to fundamentally change the rules. Who decided this is the way life has to be, anyway? Why doesn't she get a say in it? It's unfair, cruel even. And boring, besides.
Naoko forces open her eyes to the dimness of her room, the blackout roller shades doing their job of keeping out most of the morning light. She turns her head, glancing at the display of the unset alarm clock next to her bed. ...Alright, mid-afternoon light, then. Whichever. It's spring break, she doesn't have to care. ...Would it be less or more trouble if she didn't return to school? Meh, she can't be bothered to think about that right now.
The wall-mounted TV screen on the far side of her bed has some talk show or another playing at nigh-inaudible volume. There's no point in keeping it blaring all night. She tried, it doesn't make a difference. Whether it's the voices in her head acting up or her own intrusive thoughts, trying to drown it out that way doesn't work. Nothing works. Futile, like everything else.
Sticking out one hand from under the covers, she feels around on the nightstand, frowns, then starts patting around her bed. A few moments later, her hand emerges holding the remote, rapidly flicking through a multitude of channels. Nothing's on, as usual. She can't get excited about the anime she used to enjoy anymore. Nothing educational she cares to learn about. And the news just goes on about Zeon all day. Who even cares what that's all about. It's just stupid people fighting other stupid people for stupid reasons. What happened to standing united against evil armies of kaiju? Almost makes her wish Dr. Hell would come back, but that's the sort of thing that only happens in anime.
She lies back with a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling for a few moments. What a pain. Everything is such a pain. There's no meaning in anything, and nothing to look forward to. She's pretty sure she'll lose whatever may be left of her mind sooner rather than later, anyway. What's the point of even getting up?
Her stomach growls, and she sighs once more. There it is, her one source of motivation. Her body reminding her that there's still some things she has to do, in order to not become as physically miserable as she is mentally. Well, that's fine. If there's anything that could take her mind off things for a little while, it's some sugary garbage.
Naoko, clad in plain pink PJs, slumps out of bed. As she traverses the short distance from her bed to the sink in her room, the crinkling of a wrapper can be heard, followed by the soft impact with a small empty box. Packaging materials that were haphazardly discarded on the floor. Not like there's anyone around who would yell at her for making a mess. Nobody cares, least of all her.
She briefly meets her own exhausted eyes in the mirror. The longer she sleeps, the more tired she gets - more proof that the rules of this world don't make any sense. With a headshake, she reaches down to retrieve the thing she left on the sink's edge. Or rather, one of the two things.
She's not sure why she still bothers with this every day. She's broken with most of her habits, but not this one. She stares at the white butterfly-shaped hairclip in her hand for a moment, stirring the vague memory of her mother braiding her hair. The last time that happened was half her lifetime ago. After that, she was left to do her own braiding. She's continued to do so ever since, always topping it off in the same way her mother used to: applying these big hair accessories at the ends of each braid.
Maybe this is her symbol of hope. The representation of her desire for her parents to one day stop their frequent traveling, and return to the way they used to be. After all these years, it's almost certainly a vain hope. ...Especially given what she's overheard them saying about her. Yet it's a hope that continues to exist, nonetheless.
She attaches the white butterfly hairclip at its usual spot in her left braid in silence. It's routine, but it feels somehow reverent. A display of what little resolve she still has. Perhaps it won't be long before she loses even that. But today is not that day. She moves to grab hold of the matching black hairclip, intending to conclude the ritual in the usual manner, but it slips from her hand, landing in the sink.
>"Ow! Hey, careful!"<
Naoko instantly backs away, turning about in confusion. That was a boy's voice she just heard. It was so close, it must have come from right there in her room. ...no. There wasn't really a voice, was there? It's all in her head. Just her mind playing tricks again. Ugh, those whispering voices better not be getting even louder. Shaking her head, she turns back to the sink...
...and finds herself staring at the black hairclip, hovering in the air, fluttering its wings as if it were a real butterfly. 'Oh, the insanity happened sooner than I thought,' she thinks to herself. Only to have that voice she'd thought she imagined speak in her mind again, as if answering her.
>"You're clumsy, but you're not crazy. Come on, can't you even trust what's right in front of you?"<
... This isn't really happening. She must be hallucinating, or still dreaming. She's just going to close her eyes tightly, and when she opens them again, everything will be back to nor-- ...to what she's used to.
A sudden sharp pain in the center of her forehead causes her eyes to fly open, in time to see the black butterfly closer than before, floating away from her.
"Ow! Did you just... fly into my forehead?!"
>"Had to snap you out of it somehow. Rude, by the way, pretending I'm not real. Felt real enough, didn't it?"<
With a scowl, Naoko begins to say, "How are you--" only to be interrupted by the voice she hears with something other than her ears.
>"Hearing your thoughts? That's on you, for having such loud thoughts. Anyway, this is just how I communicate, don't worry about it."<
"I /am/ worried about it, cut it out! And get out of my hairclip, whoever you are!"
The black butterfly makes a show of lazily floating through the air. >"Sorry, can't do that. I'm stuck in this body just as much as you're stuck in yours. Can't tell you who I am either, I dunno. I don't remember anything before I woke up like this."<
A brief expression of sympathy is visible on Naoko's face, which quickly vanishes when the flying hairclip responds to her thoughts, >"Nah, it doesn't bother me. I know why I'm here, that's good enough for me."<
Naoko points a finger at the butterfly-entity, demanding, "Like I said, stop that. At least wait until I've actually said something before you respond, it's too weird otherwise." She pauses briefly, crossing her arms with a less severe frown when the butterfly remains silent. "That's better. Okay. Then tell me. Why are you here?"
>"I'm here to help you."<
A simple response, and yet one that throws Naoko for a loop. Nobody just... shows up to help her. That is not a thing that happens. She's alone in this big house for most of any given year, and she just has to figure things out from there. The townspeople never do anything except go on about how mature she is. So disingenuous. But it's fine. She manages, somehow. Why would she need help? She has never once asked for help.
...
She looks to the black butterfly, having landed on the edge of the sink, slowly folding and unfolding its wings. Somehow she can tell, "You have something to say?"
>"Why are you asking me? You know your own thoughts. So you already know you're lying to yourself. You ask for help every single day."<
That's different, though. She doesn't ask for help from people. That thing she does every night, just before attempting sleep, that's just... symbolic. To prove a point to herself. That there's no one out there who would ever grant her wish.
...except...
"...Uriel," she says out of nowhere. The thought pattern that led her there is so obfuscated that the entity within the butterfly seems unable to read it. >"...Come again?"<
"Uriel," Naoko repeats with more conviction. "That's your name."
She preempts the obvious question by elaborating, "It's because of what you said just now. I do ask for help every day, in a way. Every day, I pick a new random figure from a religion or mythology to pray to. And every day, I make the same request. 'Please help me be more like other people.' It's stupid, but... I guess I was hoping at least one of them would be both real and willing to help. Last night, the one I prayed to was an angel called Uriel. And here you are. So, I've decided. You're Uriel. ...Not that I believe you're actually an angel, but, if you really came here to help me... that's close enough. Right?"
There is a long pause before the black butterfly - Uriel - responds. >"Ssssssuuuure... whatever floats your boat, I guess."<
Wordlessly, Naoko extends a finger. Uriel, taking the hint, flutters away from the sink and lands on the offered perch. There is a moment of silence between the two, before Uriel's voice sounds out again.
>"You're awfully quick to accept all this. You're pretty easy-going, aren't you?"<
Naoko chuckles, and shakes her head. "Not at all. But I can fake it pretty well."
With Uriel's constant companionship and advice bolstering her confidence, Naoko would go on to emerge from her shell and start interacting more with the world around her... only to push things a little too far, and land herself in a different sort of crisis. But that is a story for another time...