memoryboxes | 8th Memory [Action/Voice]

Entry tags:

8th Memory [Action/Voice]

[Daily routine is a-go—'wake up' early, arrive at the restaurant at ungodly hours to make sure it's all ready to go... Well, this time she feels anxious, for reasons she's not too sure about. Full of energy. So, she arrives at the restaurant a few hours earlier and just... cleans. Cleaning was therapeutic, it felt like, and when she was done, that place was sparkling like new. Aaaah, contentment, thy name is Sayo. |D

Oh, this must certainly include the kitchen area, too. It must be squeaky clean for the safety of Sanji-san and the customers and workers!

When that's all fine and dandy and she's off-work, she decides to drop off some simple yet patterned kimono to the clothing shop that she'd made; it's pretty clear that once someone weaves for half of their hours in the day, they're bound to make too much stuff to keep around. And even then, she's started really enjoying finding and experimenting with patterns in the shop to use things like this in her work. Granted, she has to sticky-note everything to say she'd been working on them in the first place—

countless nights of 'who's been in my weaving room'

—but she finds it more than worth it.

...Still.

Ever since her mallynap, Sayo's felt as thought she's missing something—forgot something that was very important. And she knows that, while it's almost impossible to regain lost memories, it's at least possible to try and see if the ones she has right now can point her in a direction. After listening to people like Ami and Kamina and Hughes, it just sinks its claws into her, this unsureness.

So she goes to the library, and begins to read.

It's well into her fourth or fifth hour there, as the daylight is gone, that her face pales a little at what she's realized.]

[Voice // Pffft Sayo can't filter anything ever]

Ginko-san, are you there?

[She tries not to sound nervous, but it slips out anyway. Honestly? She doesn't want to bother him more than she has to, considering. But she just has to know.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sayo-san? Are you alright? [drawing up a filter but responding faster than he can quite finish it]

[She bites her lip, unsure if 'yes' was a perfectly reasonable response.]

... I needed to ask you something.

About home.

Of course ... [he begins to wish he was around wherever you are, on the chance there's something to be observed]

[There's a rustling sound of paper for a moment, before she continues.]

Well—I wanted to know... Was there always just me and Kaji? When you first met us? Were we the only two at the house?

[....

He never really expected you to ask that question, even if he'd played it out in his head. And while he's silent searching for the words, he doesn't give a second thought to the information he's going to give. That was decided already. Because it was your son's decision.

And he has no business changing that.]

Yes.

That's why he's the one who told me about you. You two were living together, alone, when I met you-- he ferried passengers across the river, and you were always there at home with a meal waiting for him when he came back. [but it's carefully said, and he's listening closely for her response.

What triggered this?

-- he never knew, that the third plate still ghosted its way to her table months later]

Ginko-san, I... I've read enough to know. I know it that it's not just one person, to bring life into the world. Kaji has a father, doesn't he?

[Her voice is low, and she's trying to keep it untouched by her concern, but it's a difficult feat to accomplish.]

Does this really mean... have I really forgotten him as well?

[Someone like that—how could she just forget a man who gave her her son? Did they love each other? Did they live together? Is he dead? Alive? Alone, knowing her memories of him are lost?

It's breaking her heart, to think about this stranger.]

[a long silence.

More than one person. Is it such a bad thing-- not to know one or the other? He can't remember either. Or if there was ever anyone at... No, it doesn't matter. It's a natural question, and the gap between her normal daily life and exposure to all of this new information has fueled a train of thought she can be blamed for following. But it isn't one he has to answer through a book.]

Where are you?

[His long silence only hurts more.

I've forgotten someone so important.]

...I was just about to leave the library.

[quietly] I can meet you there.

[An equally quiet:]

All right.

[So she stands up silently, leaving a small pile of books, and walks out to the front doors. She doesn't want to wait inside for him, with all those texts sitting around. Some strange sign of discontent...

Was it selfish of her so be so discontent?

She waits on the nearest bench by the library, hands folded in her lap. It's cold, but she feels hot. Dizzied by her own thoughts. A husband—father—lover?—someone she should have never forgotten!

And there's no way of fixing that. No way to bring back any of those memories...!]

[It doesn't take him too long to arrive-- and any worry or like emotion isn't being worn openly. He just pauses in his steps with that certain look, that isn't a smile but achieves something of the same effect.]

Hey.

[She'd thought she'd see him far ahead of time, with how intent she was on waiting—but then she'd lost herself to her thoughts and ended up not seeing him until a 'hey' aroused her from her inner monologues.

To her feet, she goes, and in an instant she's bowing apologetically.

Funny, she can't seem to pull herself back straight, so she speaks as she leans:]

I'm sorry—for you to come here on my account...

I'm really sorry...

[his reaction is visible, this time, brow furrowing and shaking his head-- hand pausing a space from her shoulder.] --Don't.

You asked an important question. It's fair you get an answer.

[She manages to bring herself to look at him, unsure if this was a good choice; maybe it would've been better if she'd just let that strange feeling in the pit of her heart go. Now? She's not sure. Should she really feel so torn about someone she's never even met?

No, that was her husband.

And her heart still remembered, even when she didn't. She can see this. She knows, can tell.]

Ginko... I'm really scared.

[That admission alone makes her gaze drift to the ground.]

I don't know how—why—I shouldn't have forgotten. I know I'd remember. Every time I set dinner, I look at Kaji's, and then I look at a third plate for someone who's not there...

Sayo...

[he sits down next to her, exhaling slowly. He needs to think. The hovering anxiety that this isn't his to say hasn't left-- but he can't very well leave her without an answer, when he can so keenly feel her distress.]

--you did the same thing, when I first met you. Setting a third place. [but he stops there, unwilling to elaborate without prompting]

I did? [So it was before I'd forgotten you, was it?

No—even after he'd been gone, after she knew about her condition, she still did it. She searches Ginko's face and finds a small inch of leeway in his answer. The knot in her stomach tightens, despite that.

If he doesn't remember her having a husband there, and she set a place for him anyway...]

Because I thought... it'd keep him from going hungry...?

[It was the same logic she'd been doing for Kaji, here in Luceti. The idea that soothed her conscience, that she was still his mother, looking out for him so far apart.]

Edited 2011-01-18 20:57 (UTC)

[Ah, but it's different-- when you're facing a stranger. When the stretch of road leading away from their door is an inevitability that keeps you distant.

But now-- it's hard to look her in the eye. He tries, anyway.]

Because he wasn't there.

-- you said it gave you peace of mind. [you said you thought of him all night, at your loom. But in the end-- it was that man, who forgot about you.

So why should you have to remember?]

[If only it were so simple for her to just know that he'd left her behind. Right now, all she can think of is what an awful thing she'd done. It's all relative to her—I'd forgotten him, and I am a failed wife. I'd forgotten him, and I have failed Kaji by doing such a thing. I'd forgotten him and allowed the mushi to take what should not have been allowed to be taken—

She cups her hands over her mouth, eyes unable to search Ginko's expression, instead settling away from him while a pair of hot tears roll over her clasped fingertips.]

How... could I have done such a horrible thing...? To be forgotten by the person who's supposed to love you—how could I...?

Edited 2011-01-18 21:15 (UTC)

[The muscles in his jaw tighten. This isn’t for him to tell you. But when has Luceti ever regarded that kind of privacy?

At the sight of her tears, a feeling stirs that might be anger-- in someone other than Ginko. This is an injustice.]

Sayo-- [he touches her shoulder] you haven't done wrong by anyone.

Forgetting isn't your fault, because it isn't something you can control. [a slight pressure, in tune with the turn of this thoughts] Everything I recommended to you was just hypothesis. There's no reason for you to blame yourself for anything. [-- but it's still burning in his throat to be said. He forgot you.]

[I forgot him.

She almost can't register Ginko's touch against her shoulder, trembling under an immense weight no tangible amount could rival. She blamed herself—because that's in her nature, to automatically bear the brunt of the problems surrounding her. Because she believes that, if something goes wrong around her universe, she should've been able to help it.

And there was no helping this. Right? ...Right?]

I've forgotten so many people...

The people who raised me... the people who stood beside me... the man who gave me the one thing that I couldn't live happily without.... If I forget Kaji, I don't know what would happen...

[And as she chokes on a sob, she seems startled, before she manages a low-hearted smile.]

Oh—Oh, I—I'm making the strangest noises, but I—I can't stop...

[What does he say?

-- it's the same thing that's happened before. The vacuum made by Luceti cutting family and friends apart, pulling him into a place that he so carefully-- so carefully avoids.

but he can't just watch. He waits, pensive]

Then you'd just have to remember again. [realism, then softened] But I don't think you'll forget your son. You never have. [a tight pause, and this much slips out] - he's always been there, for you.

[quieter, now--] Sometimes you can't help forgetting.

[It's quiet for a moment, save for the faint hums of near-dark forestry and village echoes; she was growing used to Luceti's own breeds of sound, sound that was so easy for her to differentiate from place to place. This was what she would nestle in after dark, at her loom—alone, typically alone.

But not alone, really, when you think about it.

She wipes her eyes with the ends of her sleeves, swallowing down a choked noise. No more of that, Sayo. No more of that.]

You're right. I can't think like that... I—It's not good. To think that way. I just have to do the best I can do, because any less wouldn't be fair to Kaji.

[She smiles. It's a little forced, but it would be a lie to say there was no genuineness in it.]

I'll just do the best that I can, and see where it takes me. It's all anyone can really do, isn't it?

[He'd usually let it go at that; surprised by, but confident in that quiet strength that he's found in so many byways and small villages.

But you're going to have to face this again. And again. And it isn't really the same, as being at home. So while he hums in assent and nods-- he also leans back at looks upward, fingers searching out a cigarette.]

[...lights it. Leans back to let the smoke stream over their heads.

And then says, quietly, straightforwardly-]

There are some things I'll never be able to remember, either.

[She looks at him, confused, still cleaning away the tears at one eye. She hadn't expected a sentence remotely close to that, from someone like you, Ginko.]

Things you won't remember...?

[He told a blind girl once-- comparing their knowledge of darkness. Administrating the intimate truth like medicine; where he sees it fit. Where it might do some good.

But maybe it's this place, more than anything, that's teaching him to speak this way.]

Mm. [another draw and exhale of smoke, watching it] You said you forgot the ones who brought you into the world....

I can't remember, either. [it isn't something to feel guilty over. It's not your fault.]

[A blink, then two.

Wait—you can't remember either? How is that? Why is that...

For some reason, she pictures little creatures that she's never seen herself: imaginary, conjured up, and yet still very real—probably so very different than what she thinks they may resemble—to Ginko.]

...Did it have to do with mushi?

Yes. [a pause. But he goes on.] Not one I know anything about, though.

Someone else told me its name, when I was older.

[...Oh.

Oh—she definitely wasn't expecting Ginko to have similar problems; not like that.]

How much... How many memories did you lose, Ginko-san?

If—that's okay to ask...

[a slight smile, still aimed upward] It's alright. [-- it's really sort of fair.]

But I'm not entirely certain.

...

My very earliest memory [his tone a little richer, the way it grows when telling stories] -- is walking in complete darkness. I didn't know where I was, or why. [or who] But I could smell the earth, and after a while I could see a light-- like a false moon, fainter then it should be. It rose and set... and then something like the real moon followed.

Finally, the sun rose. [and he'll never forget it. A pause.] That's where my memory begins. I was ten, maybe.

Ten years old...

[He was missing ten years out of his life? Ten years... it must've been very difficult, to have to deal with it at such a young age. She was lucky enough to have it so much later in life... She smiles, aimed elsewhere as well.

And the image crosses her mind—a calming sunrise, like at home. She saw it quite often, just beyond the forest and mountaintops...]

The smell of the earth... and then the sun rising...

...It almost sounds like the world welcomed you back.

Edited 2011-01-21 03:14 (UTC)

[He looks at her, now. And a slow smile follows.

...but don't forget. There is no place in the world, that you are not allowed to be.]

-- maybe so.

[She just offers her best little smile back, before following the treetops with her gaze, to look at the sky.]

Ah—!

[She flinches into the bench, a look of surprise crossing her features; clearly, something awful was happening—]

Ginko-san, there are holes in the sky!

[pointing to the bright specks all around]

[He almost makes a sound like an outright laugh, and grins at the sky.]

They're just stars. ...At least they should be. Outside the barrier-- but we can still see them.

[Stars...

Stars... 0 results found.]

O-oh, but—what are they?

[a beat]

...How do they stay up there like that?

[Because Old-school Japan + forgetful lady = so very uneducated.]

[how does he go about this? -- It's a pleasanter challenge, at least.]

Well, in our world-- they're a lot larger than they look. [Ginko with his canonical knowledge of genetics and cell biology clearly knows SOMETHING about this, he shouldn't]

And probably too far away to really understand. The sun-- the light that shines during the day [no reason for you to remember what it's called, so might as well mention that] -- is a star, but close to us.

As for how... [he slouches a little and smiles] I have no idea.

No way! The sun is the same as those? But it's so... different...

[She puts a hand over her heart, laughing.]

And it never almost gave me a heart attack, I have to say! I thought the sky was about to fall down on us for a moment!

[he can't help echoing the laugh, in his quiet way.

-- What a way to live.] Not tonight, I don't think. [he settles back and sends another stream of smoke, after the last]

[She leans back, too, but she can't seem to wipe the small, content smile from her face.]

... Thank you, Ginko-san.

To be honest, I'm still a little worried about things; I think that could be said of anyone's day to day life, really... but talking about this—I'll be okay, despite whatever issues I may have. We all do the best that we can, and now I think I can do that.

So, thank you. I know it must've been strange, having to tell me what you did.

[he stretches, a little, and leans forward] Not so strange. [quietly] It's just a story there aren't many reasons to tell.

[a smile] But I should be thanking you, too.

I've never seen you lose heart, no matter what happens.

Oh, I don't know... I think I've had a few moments where I've lost heart. But the most important thing is getting it back as soon as you can; the longer you go around without it, the longer you'll be unhappy—and the more likely you'll be stuck that way...

[Contentment flashes in her expression.]

I don't want to be that kind of person. I know Kaji would agree with me.

[Ginko is silent-- just smiles, looking to the stars again.

Because for all that he's been astonished by the immense capacity for strength of the people here; physical, supernatural, their willpower... it's times like this that he's reminded that the people he's met on his own travels (which seem further, and further away, some days) -- are made of pretty stern stuff, in a quieter way.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

8th Memory [Action/Voice]

[voice]

Re: [voice]

Re: [filtered]

Re: [filtered]

Re: [filtered]

Re: [filtered]

Re: [filtered]

Re: [filtered]

Re: [filtered]

Re: [filtered]

[ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ] 1/2

Re: [ action ] 2/2

[ action ] 1/2

[ action ] 2/2

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ] /loves all over this thread

Re: [ action ] /|D ♥♥♥♥ 1/2

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]

Re: [ action ]