Pathetic. That's how she felt, as she cuddled Abyss close to her, tear streaked cheek warm against his chest. Said chest was reverberating with a calming purr, and Nyx sniffed disconsolately. She felt rather embarrassed, dissolving into tears over this, but in reflection, she hadn't just gone from 1 to 100 in one instant; she just hadn't noticed how long she'd been at 99. It was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel's back, and it sucked. Sighing, face warming again as a ghostly face flitted across her closed eyes, wet lashes heavy where they rested on her cheek. Null represented everything she couldn't have; a life of fre(y)edom, an unending care for e(y)erything around him, the eye, all that she couldn't reach; a devil with chocolate horns and chocolate wings. Desirable; dangerous. None of this was coincidence; her mother would say. Ever since the universe was first formed, everything had been planned. She could still feel the tears, the tears from then as she'd run to her parent, crying over the scars Abyss had given her the first time she'd tried touching him. The pity she'd taken at his woefully thin form had been replaced with anger, fear- but the warm hand caressing her cheek, cradling the arm whose blood was rapidly soaking the wrapped cloth had assured her that the Absol had turned to her for help for a reason. None of this was coincidence.
Sure, Abyss had hurt her, but over time, the universe itself moved - if only to accommodate their happiness. Each day was different from the last, just by Abyss' purr. He had been her calico cat, here to meet her. He smelled the same as that day, she thought, burrowing her face deeper in his fur and making him squirm. Earthy, a little sweet, of fresh flowing springs and the grass blanketing the plains. Now she could smell her own floral scent mingling with his fur, but his wild heart beat pure and true. There were phantom scents there; the paint she dropped on him, his dry bitter kibble, a smell of fish (what???), even vanilla. But they were gone before she realized it, and all there was left was his own clean smell, and the purr. Earth, wet earth. She loved the smell. Null smelled of woodsmoke and leather.
She blinked. What...? She was jolted to the present with her (now repaired) Pokegear buzzing. Rolling over and stretching her cramping limbs, she reached for it, heart racing. Mom? Glancing outside her window, she took in how the sun had begun setting. Cold winds blew once again through the screen, heralding the oncoming night. She could see the stars through the haze of the city, stars that shone brighter than the city lights. Constellations weaved into each other; stars she had once wished to mingle amongst. She had thought....that the Eye was the way.
"Hey, ma," She sighed, picking up the call. "My, Nyx, why the sigh? Have you been sleeping well?" The kind voice on the other end made her smile. "Yeah, yeah, I have. In fact I slept all day today." Stifling another sigh, she heard her mom gasp on the other end. "All day? Aren't you going for Tanabata? Have you even got your yukata out? It's been years since you've attended one, Nyx! You should attend this one! I got you that nice yukata last summer, you never even wore it..." Her mother's voice faded as Nyx craned her neck to look outside, noticing the brightly lit townside for the first time. Tanabata was today? The proximity of Mahogany to the mountains meant it was cold all year round, so Nyx never really noticed that summer was here, and with it, Tanabata. "I- I don't know, I don't really want to go... I have work..." She waffled, cutting into her mother's complaint, voice quivering in hesitation. "Nyyyyx, you've been working ever since you left. First the school, now this; you hardly ever come home. I'm not asking for much, honey, it's just one day-"
"Ma, I don't want to," Nyx pressed, furrowing her brows, "I'd have to dress up and everything, and it'd be crowded, and the food would be overpriced..."
"Well, yes, but you'd have a good time, sweetie, that's the point of a festival. And is money really an issue? It comes and goes, but the time might not."
"Exactly! Which is why I'd rather spend that time working-"
"Nyx, don't argue, just listen to your mother-"
"Mom, stop, I'd rather not fight right now over thi-"
Abyss watched the exchange with increasing concern, eyes flitting between the Pokegear and Nyx's face, quickly tearing up again, but her voice remained steady. "Ma, what's even the point of this?! Even if I tell you the truth, even if you listen, every word I say would just come back as scars! YOU told me I came here to be a part of the stars! YOU were the reason for all this! And now the Eye is gone, and everybody tells me it's over and I have to let go but I can't, I can't! I can't stop running! Even if it hurts, I can't help running! So just stop, okay? Just- just let me be-" She exploded, shouting out the middle part in a rising crescendo, but gradually simmering down at the end, finishing the sentence in a surly murmur. There was a moment's silence, and in the darkness, her own heartbeat sounded unfamiliar. Curse me, this foolish destiny. She had to keep running; she couldn't stop. It was alright, even if her feet tore apart with wounds - atleast she'd be able to smile when she saw.... saw....what? Running was all she knew, fool that she was, a fool running in circles.
"Nyx!" Her mother's voice rang out sharply from the Gear, and she flinched. "Don't blame me for all that's happened. I tried my best to help you, but you don't listen; you never listened. If anyone is to blame, it's you!"
Too far. Nyx bit her lip, saying nothing, hand hovering over the disconnect button.
"I- Nyx, look, I still believe in that. You have a place in those constellations," And as her mother said that, Nyx knew she'd be raising her hand, pointing out a formation to an audience unseen. Her audience wasn't there, just like the stars weren't. She hadn't seen those stars since she'd left home. "And even the scars from your mistakes make up your constellation. None of this is coincidence. And...alright, if you want to stay at home, that's alright, make some warm tea - the nights are still cold. Remember to let yourself breathe amongst all that work, Nyx."
The teenager rolled her eyes, wishing to smile at the parental authority but feeling too bitter to do so. "Yes, mom, as usual, I'll try. Remember this is my home now."
Asra paused, and Nyx could hear her take in a breath. "Yes...I know. But if you were to choose to come anyway, the door is always open. I'll be waiting inside. This place will be waiting for you."
"....yeah, okay, bye." She said, finally disconnecting and tossing the Gear aside. It clattered along the floor, resting against the bed leg. She banefully glared at it for a moment before looking at Abyss, who quickly averted his eyes. He'd seen it all, the screaming at a pain he couldn't feel, an enemy he couldn't see. People had told her it was over, told her to give up - those nights he couldn't tell her sweat apart from her tears. There had been days when she'd wake up, silent; days she'd woken up crying. She had made something her sun, the one thing she strove for, the singularity in her life. But the sun she bloomed for had only dried her up. Was this what flowers felt as they died from thirst, even in their last moments reaching with all their strength for the light? Her greed that had once been a weapon, had now turned into a prison, a noose. It was all a dream, only to be broken. She ran, and ran, but she didn't reach anywhere. In this mind possessed by the word 'success', this was her madness.
Why did it have to be her? The thing she had buried her voice for, the thing she drowned herself for, why did it seem to be trapped away in a sheet of ice? Why couldn't she accept and love the ones beside her? In the loud silence, there returned no answer; maybe there was no answer. People told her that winter didn't last forever, that spring would come sooner or later; that the ice frosted over lakes would melt away, taking with them the cold bite of winter, and water would flow again. Where was her change of weather? Where was her penicillin, to purge her system of this terrible infliction? If none of this was coincidence, was her suffering planned too? Was this fated to happen to her, and her alone?
But was she alone? Face still sullen, she turned to look at Abyss, still pointedly looking away, sweating nervously if he could. To give someone the best of them, asking nothing in return. Abyss wanted no success; all he wanted was to be someone's comfort, to take away someone's pain. He was her calico cat, here to meet her; the universe itself had moved, if only to accommodate their happiness. Had destiny just gotten jealous of her? And again, was she alone? I wonder, she mused as she settled her face among her stretched knees, what Null thought about this. He'd seen it all, the gazes she couldn't help straying, the hunger behind them. How did he get it? What did he do? Why did he have it? Was he also alone?
"Come here, calico cat," She reached over for a quick scratch, surprising the Absol, before getting to her feet. Shortly returning after rummaging in her kitchen, she held out her two closed fists. Opening them, she revealed a single bit of kibble in each hand. "Right, we go to Tanabata. Left, we stay at home." She explained, tilting her hand towards him. Abyss paused, nose twitching as he tried to gauge if she was serious, before getting to his feet, barging past the hands to nuzzle once again against her face, rich purring pouring from his chest again. "I- dammit." Voice beginning to crack, she let the food fall, wrapping her arms around the Absol's neck instead, rocking back and forth. "Disgusting, absol-utely disgusting. Get this horrible gesture away from me." She managed to squeeze out, and Abyss purred harder, complacent in the smile he heard under the tears.
-*-*-*-*-
Memories of Tanabata had always been happy. It was back when her father was still alive. She remembered phantom lights; luminescent orbs buried in the recesses of her mind. She held his hand as she toddled along, candy apple in the other. So many stalls, so many people. Smiles, voices, celebrations, the distant chant of prayers, even the rhythmic tap of feet in a ritual dance. Dance. That’s what it was – in the sound and movement, the festival throbbed with life and vigour. It was an astral dance in its own way. Under the moonlight of the festival night, where they were nothing but shadows, moving to an unheard beat. The beat she could once hear as plainly as her own heart, but now….perhaps it was gone. Perhaps it never existed in the first place – all but a fever dream. Memories fading like crumbling leaves – the feel of her mother’s hands through her hair as she clutched onto the waiting ceremonial pin. Her father’s starched kimono, always smelling of him when she pressed close, hiding from strangers. The little lengths of string as they wrote their tanabata wish – her mother held the hand with the brush and her father held the one with the paper. That year when Abyss had fallen grievously ill, her tanabata wish had been for him. To be sure, she’d even snuck in a second slip, feeling only a little guilty about trying to deceive the gods. But hey, it had worked, hadn’t it? Wasn’t that worth it?
Abyss sniffed a socked foot before turning around to get out of her way, watching from the other side of the room. The house still vaguely smelt of smoke and dust, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. Good riddance, if he may say so himself; although of course, he couldn’t. Nyx had actually enjoyed the company of the little fluffy prey animal – the one that smelt of oncoming storms and tried to lick him. Abyss wasn’t a barker – his primary source of communication was much quieter, but if anything or anyone had ever made him want to bark, it was this particular pokemon. He sniffed again and licked a paw, beginning to groom himself. Around Nyx, clothes were cascading to the floor as she dug in her cupboard. It overlooked the foot of the bed, so Nyx was on her knees, shoving any offending pieces falling out to the ground. A couple of moth balls rolled out and Abyss sniffed them until Nyx called out a ‘leave!’. Nyx would have very much liked to ‘leave’ as well; leave this futile task of looking for her ceremonial gowns. She had a whole five (5) pairs of clothing that she needed and rotated between and that suited her perfectly fine, thank you very much. But the realization that Tanabata had slowly turned in a chore instead of a celebration made her grit her teeth and stick her hand back in the mish-mash of objects and articles she found in the cupboard.
“I’m normally organized,” She called out, as though explaining to someone, before pausing. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty bed, just once; as though to be sure, then got back to the burrowing.
“Eek, found it~” She called, frisbee-ing the plastic square at Abyss, who looked unamused as it collided with his chest and fell to the ground. “Nice, eh? Perfect for summer. Might be a bit cold around here but hey, check out the pretty cherry blossoms,” She ruffled Abyss’ fur, babytalking him and pointing out the ‘pretty cherry blossoms’. Just as well he wasn’t listening; her words were as hollow as the promise to go home. It was fitting Tanabata celebrated the concept of reunion. A harsh reminder of where she’d gone wrong. This mask was her life now. For who would accept her the way she was? Beneath this mask of society, the pretty clothes and the elaborate accessories; the rot reached deeper. And yet, she wanted. She wanted and wanted, and for that want, she should suffer.
She hated this. She hated the sound of the rhythmic footsteps, the clack of claws against stone, the rustle of her own dress, the fumbling of her hands with the hairpin, the look of her reflection in the mirror, the mess of clothes spread untidily across her house. She hated the taste of rice in her mouth, even the water tasted bitter; bitter as her tears. She hated the cold wind against her face, the silence as they walked side by side, down the dark road to the well-lit square. The feel of the cloth purse in her hand, the taste of chapstick and blood in her mouth. She hated that this was once fun; she hated that she felt alone; she hated what she had become.
But despite that, the lights remained dazzling, the cotton candy remained sweet, the games remained engaging, the festival remained crowded. Yukata sleeve rustling around the candy apple she held, eyes blinking in the dazzling lanterns strung up in endless rows, mouth open in equal parts awe and hunger; she hated that despite everything, she had a tiny, tiny bit of fun.
Children were squealing and laughing as they splashed each other in friendly argument over who got to play the Wishiwashi game first, the taiyaki continued to sell like hot cakes, tasting the same as they did 10 years ago. People of all ages wandered around; adults, elderly, lovers, teens. A woman dressed in elaborate ceremonial geisha outfit walked past – the prayer ceremony would start soon, evidently. She was holding a square wooden box in her arms, walking in the way all geisha seemed trained to – ethereal, otherworldly. Moving, yet not quite. Almost as though she was gliding. A predator through the swarms of people, head unmoving, but eyes alert and catching each detail. Nyx knew the box well – so when the geisha approached her, holding out her arms, Nyx matched her gaze, eye for eye, before breaking the rather hypnotizing stare and grabbing the slips of paper.
Tanabata was the festival of the Weaver, and in the dazzling night sky, Nyx could see the streak of stars; Tentei had been kind and provided a smattering of stars, as the legend went. Had the sky always been so clear? It had been a while since Nyx had the opportunity to immerse herself in anything besides work. Even her brief stint with Null had been in the conscious awareness of cradling the Eye close to her. Shading her eyes from the lanterns, she moved to avoid a large group of tourists. Her town wasn’t a large one, but Tanabata was still celebrated in the traditional way here. It brought a smile even to Abyss’ face when the due spotted an extravagant basket of dolled-up “Tanabata kit”. Morning glories, weaving ropes, decorative glitter and pearls, incense sticks and a tiny Spinarak squeak toy, likely something someone had dropped in there. Rather heavy-handed on the symbolism – most of the objects were associated with the princess in the tale, but even so using said objects as decorations were rare; quite ironically exactly what she meant by celebrating in the traditional way.
Abyss wasn’t the only pokemon out of their ball, roaming the streets. By the looks of it, most of the town had emerged to celebrate the joyous event; Nyx spotted an old lady in a wheelchair, cradling a Teddiursa in her arms. Why were people here? What did they assemble for? Slowly averting her gaze to sweep the area, she leaned against a pole. Even in her fragility, why did that lady wish so strongly to come and partake in the celebrations? Why did people want? Why did people obsess? Smiles everywhere, shouts of glee as someone won a game, a squeal of happiness as somebody was rewarded with a sweet, a cry of disappointment as somebody dropped their icecream (the fallen food was immediately assaulted by various young pokemon, and the last Nyx saw of it was down the throat of a small Poochyena).
Abyss was using his opportunity to nibble on Nyx’s candy apple as she surveyed the scene, and as she didn’t respond, got bold enough to give it a lick. He got maybe three licks in before Nyx caught him in the act and whipped away her treat. Abyss was one of the biggest pokemon around, reaching Nyx’s hip – most others were young quadrupeds or small flying pokemon. A few other trainers had eye-catching pokemon like a foreigner with a Talonflame on his shoulders, a middle-aged lady with a Sliggoo and even a lady with a Banette. The ghost type was a rare sight, and Nyx caught herself staring at it, stopping only when the lady – a trainer around her age, perhaps – turned and saw her. The Banette was playing around with a small yellow flower; evidently its trainer had bought it one of these morning glories. Levitating it back and forth and even flipping itself around the bloom in an arc, it seemed to betray a childish exterior, so contradictory to its menacing looks. The brightness of the flower, the joy of the pokemon – she’d seen it before. Her mouth pursed at the memory of the sweet little Flaaffy, gone too soon, and she turned on her heel.
Abyss was none too happy about the glittery ribbon around his neck, but he obligingly held out the paw Nyx asked for, letting her tie another ribbon around his paw. In the candlelight of the lanterns, his ribbons glittered, and in the darkness of the isolated edges, it glowed with his eyes. But he put up with it, gaining a few more nibbles of the almost-over candy apple, and he was rewarded for his persistence; Nyx pulled a face and tossed him the rest of the treat, letting him finish it all. Licking his chops, he padded after his human, pleased with the bittersweet aftertaste, and pleased all the more because he knew where she was going. The paper slips dangled from her hand.
Tanabata. Evening of the seventh. Star-crossed lovers, represented by Vega and Altair. The stars themselves represented the Lyre and the Eagle. The Weaver and the Shepherd. “The usual then, eh?” Nyx smiled, murmuring to Abyss as she scribbled down ‘food’ in one of the strips, bending down with the calligraphy pen poised. When she caved in and bought the basket, Spinarak toy and all, the stall owner was kind enough to throw in a pen when he saw the paper in her hand. Such generosity was appreciated, especially in times of festival and celebration when the worst of humanity surfaced. Events such as this were when thefts were at their highest, and as the night waned, she could see increasing numbers of disheartened faces. But even so, the crowd moved as the universe dictated. She squeezed the spider toy, hearing the squeak and repeating to herself, ‘none of this was coincidence’. Painting over Abyss’ paw, she let him press it down on the paper, marking it as his own with the large black sign, and tucked it in her yukata. Next came her own.
Her wishes….weren’t as simple as food. They used to be once. She bit her lip, looking down at the strip, before glancing at Abyss, catching his gaze. They held it for a moment before she broke into a smile. “Hey, food is so cliché. My wish isn’t as simple as that; I don’t want food. I want GOOD food.” She laughed as Abyss opened his mouth, imitating the human gesture of a discontented grimace. More naturally, he huffed and fluffed out his fur, pawing the girl’s yukata. “Let’s see, let’s see, apple thief.”
She set the basket down, still staring at the strip. Greed was just as complicated. Would these stars still listen to her prayers? Would they still guide her? She hadn’t seen those stars since she’d left home. Sighing, she set the paper down, picking up a flower instead. In the heady scent of paper and ink, nectar and cream, peaches and incense, she breathed. Her wish in fourth grade had been for better weaving and craftsmanship, as had most of her female peers – maybe she’d just had the fortune of having her wish fulfilled instantaneously. Her mother had taught her how to weave flowers and cloth together, and eyes closed, she could almost hear the quiet voice, fingers ghosting through her hair. A Morning Glory next to the pin, a weaving of pearls and paper, the smell of unlit incense. Pearls. Pearls before swine. Why was she here? Why did she participate?
“There was a strange girl once. She wished as she breathed. It didn’t matter where, she just wanted to succeed. Working, that was the only thing that could make her heart race. It wasn’t easy; failures, despair. But on a tired day, somebody said, you’re a star, you’re a star.” She reached out, caressing Abyss’ cheek, and he leaned closer, letting his rest her head on his chest. “But I see no star. I see everything scattering. Why am I here alone? Why am I hurting? There’s no such thing as a beautiful goodbye, so how do I begin? Step on what was broken, so nothing remains. I’m just talking to myself again. Yeah, yeah burn it.” Pearls before swine, suffering divine.
…..this was why she was a researcher and not a poet.
Despite herself, she smiled, holding the flower to her face again, breathing in the smell of honey and smoke. Her beginning and her end; was she to remain, repeating her fears and memories in this endless cycle of days that didn’t end? Greed was complicated. It made a dangerous game thrilling; coveted, worthwhile. So it was no surprise when Nyx opened her eyes to the smell of smoke and the sight of a white shock of hair. The moment this game turned dangerous was way past them; the moments when she convinced herself she’d given up, the moments she thought she was free were all crumbling. “Woah, take it easy, cut out my heart and set it on fire.” She recited, lips curling into a bitter smile; Abyss followed her gaze, getting to his feet along with her, concern writ large on his face. “Step on what was broken so nothing remains. Yeah, yeah yeah yeah burn it.” Lives were not stars; they could never be stars, and more fool her for ever believing it. The best they could do was-
The distant boom of fireworks brought her attention back to the sky as she whipped around, watching the magnificent shower of sparkles and light fall. Fireworks. Burn bright before fading, falling. The man, the timing. Perhaps mother was right after all. In the brief illumination of the first firework, the main attraction of the festival had lit up – the Wish tree. The twisting peach blossom was carefully pruned for this day, this last hurrah, this moment in the limelight. Bamboo shoots were placed all around it, hardly seen amidst the hundreds of fluttering multi-coloured pieces of paper tied to it. A windchime echoed somewhere from the tree, and glitter and ribbons flashed from the decorations, but it fell on deaf eyes and blinded eyes. Pearls before swine. All she could think of was the mirage that had disappeared before her eyes. She clutched the bracelet on her hand tighter, shoving the Glory back in her hair, eyes darting for the boy she’d seen but a moment ago. Curses, the brief flash from the firework had distracted her and she’d lost him.
Again.
None of this was coincidence.
)