Riku felt numb. Facing the events of six years prior had overwhelmed her limited capacity to handle difficult emotions. She and her sister had been failed by the people closest to them when they were at their most vulnerable. Taji had been young, only twenty seven, but Riku had been seven. Tsughi was five. They needed their mother back then, when they were clinging to each other and crying over grief that they were too young to process alone. Instead, they were alone and huddled, until their eyes dried and their throats were raw. Time dragged on agonizingly slow as they quickly became dehydrated and began to revert to their liquid forms. Riku turned into a thick, gelatinous blob first because she'd used water from her body to try and help Tsughi. By the time help came, they were both half-dried jelly, clinging so tightly they couldn't be separated. Their bodies had mixed.
Riku barely remembered the incident now, she did remember the emptiness and loneliness that had come with it, however. She recalled waking up in the hospital still half fused to her little sister and the blur of healing chakra, medicinal baths, and Anzu's repeated apologies. She had come after not hearing from Taji, but she should have come sooner. The words were light, like cheap plastic baubles, bouncing off of the ill children.
Afterwards, they watched their mother fade day by day, like some sort of ghost. Unresponsive, also in the hospital, but not nearly as physically damaged by her own retreat from reality. The mental and emotional damage may have been greater. All the while, Kishi, who didn't live as far as Anzu had been absent, leaving Taji with minimal support from their extended family. Perhaps with at least one shoulder to cry on, Taji wouldn't have broken down without finding someone to care for the girls first. Would have been able to get help sooner.
Maybe if Anzu hadn't distanced them from the clan, Taji could have worked through her grief with people who remembered her dead husband. The reason for this particular tragedy, for the lack of remembrance was still unknown.
Why?
The question pressed on her harder than the pressure of the lake.
Riku didn't know when she had gone into the water and become one with it nor how long she'd been there. She'd just known that her throat hurt and felt so dry no amount of drinking would help. The pressure was comfortable, almost soothing.
Some time later, she fell on the shore, soaking wet, hair plastered to her face, cheek pressed to the ground. When had she crawled from the depths of the lake? Who knew.
Shakily, the blue-haired teen pushed herself to her feet and began to shuffle on aimlessly. Her eyes were vacant, unseeing as she moved. Her mind didn't register her surroundings until there was a door in front of her.
Smelling of the lake and salt, smudged with dirt and leaves, and so, so tired, Riku arrived at Satori's front door. Her forehead landed on the wood with a near-inaudible thud.
[1]
Riku barely remembered the incident now, she did remember the emptiness and loneliness that had come with it, however. She recalled waking up in the hospital still half fused to her little sister and the blur of healing chakra, medicinal baths, and Anzu's repeated apologies. She had come after not hearing from Taji, but she should have come sooner. The words were light, like cheap plastic baubles, bouncing off of the ill children.
Afterwards, they watched their mother fade day by day, like some sort of ghost. Unresponsive, also in the hospital, but not nearly as physically damaged by her own retreat from reality. The mental and emotional damage may have been greater. All the while, Kishi, who didn't live as far as Anzu had been absent, leaving Taji with minimal support from their extended family. Perhaps with at least one shoulder to cry on, Taji wouldn't have broken down without finding someone to care for the girls first. Would have been able to get help sooner.
Maybe if Anzu hadn't distanced them from the clan, Taji could have worked through her grief with people who remembered her dead husband. The reason for this particular tragedy, for the lack of remembrance was still unknown.
Why?
The question pressed on her harder than the pressure of the lake.
Riku didn't know when she had gone into the water and become one with it nor how long she'd been there. She'd just known that her throat hurt and felt so dry no amount of drinking would help. The pressure was comfortable, almost soothing.
Some time later, she fell on the shore, soaking wet, hair plastered to her face, cheek pressed to the ground. When had she crawled from the depths of the lake? Who knew.
Shakily, the blue-haired teen pushed herself to her feet and began to shuffle on aimlessly. Her eyes were vacant, unseeing as she moved. Her mind didn't register her surroundings until there was a door in front of her.
Smelling of the lake and salt, smudged with dirt and leaves, and so, so tired, Riku arrived at Satori's front door. Her forehead landed on the wood with a near-inaudible thud.
[1]
