2024-12-25: Arriving Somewhere But Not Here
- Cutscene: 2024-12-25: Arriving Somewhere But Not Here
- Cast: Leila Misakiyama
- Where: Nouvelle Tokyo
- Date: UC0099 Dec 25
- Summary: A girl takes a walk during Christmas. Thoughts about the self and of her place in the world ensue, where so many seem to be celebrating something she never had the chance to.
The door opens. A quick check of her wallet, her keys, her phone, her sense of self, her sanity, and her mindset. Unconfirmed or not, Leila shut the door and set off. A simple walk. That's all. That's all it was. A simple walk. Just keep telling yourself that. With a twist on her heel, she set off. Down from the house and onto the sidewalk. Walking away from the place she lived in, a mere excursion.
Any place was better than there.
There's nothing more human than walking. Just keep telling yourself that. On a day like this, walking gets you places. Down the street. Left? Right? Left. Another. Left? Right? Right. Left? Right? Left. Repeating the process again and again, the system of refusal working for its self-effacing purpose.
A turn to the left onto one of the more commercial streets. Walking through it in the midday sun that was so scarce during these months. 'CHRISTMAS'. Again. The stoic gaze of a girl brushing past the advertisements of the day, of the week, of the whole month. Christmas. A poster. Another poster. Another poster. Viewed impassively, walking down the boulevard.
Store after store. Advertisement after advertisement. Christmas. Spend time with your loved ones. Spend times with the ones you treasure. Spend times with the ones that changed you. Treasure the closeness of this sacred day, one where the world seemingly shuts off for a day to spend this day in quiet contemplation. Reflect on the past year. Reflect on what you've done.
A slow blink. The wanderings brought her here. A grocery store like any other, in an aisle. One of the few that dared not to close their shelves no matter what, come hell, high water, or the complaints of the employees.
She left with a chocolate bar in her hand.
The soft crunch of snow echoes out in the occasional step, more often than not stepping on the hard concrete warmed and salted by the surrounding municipality. Step after step, a girl silently walking along with no destination in mind. The regular gait of movement, shifting along the sidewalk trail into one of the many parks of Nouvelle Tokyo.
A cold breeze brushes through, the rustling branches of trees marking the chill of the day. The walk doesn't stop; It's instinctual. Somewhere, anywhere but the place she was a second ago. The notion of not stopping was the thing propelling her steps; How long? How much longer? The motion of movement through the park, allowing the natural map of the mind to bring her to and fro, wandering along the arteries of the city's walkways.
Reflect on what you've done. The thought brings forth a mild scowl.
Walking. Movement. The faint short-term memories flitting in her mind, a form distinctly remembering the slow shift of getting out of bed. The morning routine. Shutting Crisis Alexis up. The feeling never left. A slow gaze down at her own hand, one covered in a warm red glove. Balling the hand into a fist, relaxing. Again and again for a few seconds before resuming her trailing walk. Through the park, another poster. Festivities. 'CELEBRATE WITH THE FAMILY!'
The ripped shreds of that poster are dutifully tossed in the nearest trashcan. No destination. Anywhere was better than the place she was a single second ago. Quickened breathing settling down once more, walking without a goal in mind. The silence of the day hanging heavy in the mind, Leila refusing to stop for a second. Just don't think about it. Just don't contemplate it. Left. Right. Left. Left. Right. Left.
Over the horizon, the kaiju looms tall. Black King is coated in a layer of white snow, quickly disappearing under the innate warmth of the kaiju. Stoic. Unrelenting. Part of the background by now, not a blip of notice nowadays.
The streets look more familiar. A familiar route. A bump, a turn, a stop. Staring down an alleyway, the end cast in blackness. Moments passing in relative silence, breath frosting the air with every exhalation. Hand on the corner of the wall down that alleyway, grip occasionally tightening into white-knuckle tenseness. Relaxing. Tightening.
"Fuck you." A solitary voice, the first sentence uttered, comprehended in hours that weren't mere pleasentries. Turning to walk away from the source of her miasma. Keep walking. There's nothing you can do to rip out the rot once you know. 'Ignorance is bliss', so its termed.
Ignorance. The word weighs down in silence. Walking along another sidewalk, another commercial boulevard. The stores are all closed. The bright twinkling of tinsel, the festive atmosphere thick in the air even as the sun begins to dip down. Celebration. Unity. Connections. The tunes ringing out in speakers. Every step heavier than the last.
Her wandering brings her out and around. To walk along a suddenly familiar street, observing the destruction being paved over, rebuilt, reforged to meld back into the city proper. The city was used to the scars of wars thanks to everything; The fact that the konbini she had so destroyed was being replaced with something similar left a bitter taste in her mouth. In the end: The small scream had left nothing in its wake.
Just another minute thing only a few people will remember.
...Her stomach growls. For once, she takes a seat, a city bench facing outwards towards the setting sun. A slow unwrapping of the chocolate bar.
Crunch.
What should I do? Mama's call is always bad, but this year was particularly bad. Papa? Ha. Who cares about him.
Crunch.
What should be next? There's a long stretch of life, still. There's still so much. Things are arguably looking up. The show was a success. Things are being planned.
Crunch.
...And yet. Munching on that chocolate bar, staring down at it. "...The fuck am I doing." Life? A life of what? Of being lucky to be ignorant? Can't just stay still, after all that.
Crunch.
Just one step at a time. One step- "Who am I kidding." One step? Another step? The things this world has. The rot it keeps underneath. The...
CRUNCH.
One step isn't enough. Wait? Hope? Nice to hear as platitudes. Did it help? Did it help Mama? The events recounted as memories again and again, the failures of those who tried to 'help'. Was it because of /that/? Was it because of the systems at play? Was it not just luck, but something else?
...There's no more of the chocolate bar to chew down on. Dutifully tossing that wrapper in a trashcan, closing her eyes with a sigh.
What family. What connections. What festivities. Christmas is only special to those who're able to capitalize upon it. The world can only be treasured when one can /enjoy/ it to the fullest.
The empty hand curls up. Standing up, shuffling off, ignoratnt to the chill in her bones from staying still. That's fine. The sun can warm her up before she makes it back to her residence.
"Bunch of..." Muttering. "...waiting could solve anything?" Her voice wavering in and out. "...lucky bastards who..."
The sun sets on a bright day, the festivities of Christmas only beginning in the nighttime. A day of rest and relaxation to bookend a month of anticipation, culminating into this week, this day, this hour of joy.
It's not like she could take part in any of it. The festivities are for someone who's lucky enough to take part. Someone lucky enough to be somewhere that isn't here, someone that's not her, someone else entirely. Cycle of fate, rigged right from the start.
The sense to not scream, tamping down the raging whirlwinds within. Black King steams with another ejection of heat from its nostrils, fogging up the surrounding area for a few seconds. Her absentminded wandering to kill time had to have an end. An end that ended where it began: Outside her door.
The click of a lock. The opening of that same door. There was no one to greet, no one to crack the mental framework of a girl trying to push at the edges. Just the chill of the winter air with nary a Christmas decoration in sight.
The door shuts. The lock clicks.
Leila Misakiyama spends another Christmas alone.