wipingallout

"Well, any day, you could die... it isn't that different, is it? Me disappearing from here isn't any more or less unexpected than someone getting hit in traffic or electrocuting themselves or something."

But... people who never get the support they need, people who can't pick themselves back up... even if it's been a long time since she was in her worst state, she can remember it.

"Being able to help people connect, though... that would be something incredible. Maybe if someday the Seal isn't needed, I'll try to be something like that - something that helps people make the bonds they need to find that strength to get back up."

"I won't deny the importance of friendships or having companionship. It's always a more positive approach if someone else shares your interests or comes to care for you. Those are good signs," he reiterates.

"But your life. Your dreams-! You endured and suffered so much for something so-" Thankless he wants to say but he stops himself before he ends up ruining this meeting of theirs. No, keep calm. She's clearly in pain. How would kicking a dead horse help anyone?

"What I am trying to say is," he starts again- more stable as he adjusts the glasses on his nose. "It's different from someone simply dying. Your situation is intentional and driven by motivation. Most people will never reach out, not through the bias that creates in their head from a lifetime of suffering."

"...I know. I remember what that's like, too," Hamuko tilted her head, smiling a bit curiously at Maruki. He really was worked up and upset over her death... maybe it was selfish, but it was... nice, to be mourned like that.

"You stopped yourself. 'Something so...' what, Maruki? Something scary? Cruel?" she asked, curious where his head was going with it.

Oh, he knows a bait when he sees one. He shakes his head as he scratches at his chin, gnawing at whatever he could before the conversation turned on him.

"It is cruel," he admits (and lies) while looking ahead. "What you have been through- its almost mind-boggling for me to see how you sit here and answer my questions with such honesty."

He turns to look at her. "Despite everything...at the end of the day your friends would continue on to live and achieve their dreams. Thanks to you of course but it's..so cruel to see how fate dealt with your hand."

"If it wasn't me, then who would it have been, right? Sometimes it's my brother, apparently... I'm sure there's more worlds where it might've been one of my friends, or someone I've never known. I can't start playing the blame game... because who's at fault? Nyx, for answering a call? Fate, for finding someone to save humanity? Humanity for crying out in anguish?"

She shrugged, a little.

"There's nothing for me, going down that line of thought. Nothing but regret or resentment, and neither of those are going to save me. The only thing that would save me is everyone choosing kindness for others, of their own free will."

Maruki sucked in a deep breath, leaning back into the bench if only to regulate himself from being too passionate about this. People always got so defensive and pulled back when he spoke of his research, he didn't want to make Hamuko run away.

"...That free will you speak of—it’s beautiful. It really is," he began slowly, turning his eyes toward her with quiet sincerity. "But it’s not always enough. Not in the way people like to think."

He folded his hands gently in his lap, letting silence breathe between his next words.

"From a psychological standpoint... human beings are shaped by the conditions they live in—by trauma, by systems, by the people around them. Maslow called it the hierarchy of needs, didn’t he? Basic safety, belonging, stability—without those, people can’t even begin to think about higher ideals like compassion or self-actualization. We like to believe in the purity of free will, but choice is often a luxury—one afforded by the absence of fear."

"Yeah. If people had their material needs met, they could really start finding that kind of happiness. I like to think that we're getting closer to it... that one step at a time, people are choosing to do the right thing."

It doesn't help the people who are hurting right now, though - that bothers Maruki a lot. She understands why.

"There's a lot of good that could come of trying to help everyone be fed, have a home, and stuff like that... good soil and patience that would grow a beautiful garden. I like to think that even if I didn't live to see that garden, I helped plant the seeds."

People...choosing to do the right thing. He looks at this place and wonders where exactly is she seeing that sentiment play out when everyone here seems to cling to their pain and refuse help beyond the need for bonds fostered under a forceful existence.

He pauses for a bit, eyes glancing ahead- beyond the park to the trees and the quiet calm of the shrine.

She is shifting the narrative to others again. He had her. He just needs to-

"That's a really special way to look at it," he smiles. "And something I would relate to, given that I have a mini garden back home. Or well, even here honestly."

Pull her away from the mourning. Distract her before she sees that he's being too defensive.

"Gardening is fun! Yukari and Fuuka really got me sucked back into it... though right now I just have a gerbera, since growing rose bushes needs a lot more space!"

Still... hmmm...!!

"Maybe I'll plant some on 'public' property around here! Not like anyone actually owns it... I doubt the cognitive people would mind some roses. GOSH - I once saw this gorgeous rose bush that had flowers that were orange, but a soft orange, like a peach. They were SO pretty, and so friendly looking - I wish I knew who'd planted them because I wanna know if they bred their roses like that on purpose!"

Maruki's eyes lit up- visibly genuine as he turns towards her in excitement.

"Peach-colored roses? Oh, I know the ones you mean!" he said while leaning forward with the same energy that made him one of the most beloved teachers in Shujin. "Those are likely a hybrid tea rose! There's a variety called Just Joey- that blooms in a soft apricot tone. Or oh, it could've been Peace, though those lean more towards yellow."

Without really realizing it, he drifted a little too close to the past.

He paused before brushing his bangs back sheepishly. "Ah, sorry- I can really go off when it comes to plants. I've been growing everything from bonsai to trailing wisteria ever since I was a kid. That said- deliberately breeding hybrids will possibly even take years to perfect. It's practically an art form which involves focusing on cross-pollination and the soil PH but...with cognition, its possible you can...prune some factors to your favor."

Yep, great going there Takuto.

"It's a fun hobby!! I'm a little new to it... my last foster parent had a garden in her front yard that I would help with. It was one of the ways we really got to chat with each other," she beamed.

Admittedly... she hadn't gotten that close with her before getting the invitation and scholarship for Gekkoukan. Only a few months... and with so many other foster kids, she's not really surprised she didn't get any check-in calls or letters. Oh well.

"And I love flowers. Big colorful ones... little petite ones... and roses are my absolute favorite."

Maruki grasped onto that little detail- even while keeping his expression even. "Well now you have all the time in the world to really get into it. Flowers are great and don't get me started on how my friends ended up just blatantly asking me to tag along with them to get flowers for their girlfriends-!" He giggled lightly at the memory before finding himself sobering up.

"Not even sure its the same people anymore...all of them are married now though."

And he never even learnt about it until Shibusawa brought it up.

"Say...did you keep contact with her?" He could only imagine how horrified she would be, a bright girl like Hamuko passing away right after. "Please stop me if you feel uncomfortable by that question by the way, I am just curious."

Edited 2025-07-02 09:58 (UTC)

"No, not really. She made sure I was ready for the dorms, but I'd only been there for a couple of months and that was before I really learned to come out of my shell, so... I was hard to remember out of about a dozen kids she was looking after. She and I didn't really know each other very well, so it would've been strange, I think... especially since I was about to age out of the foster system. The kids around ten definitely needed more attention."

It's a double edged sword... she would've liked a care package like Akihiko got, but on the other hand... she feels a lot better that she wouldn't burden the woman very much from dying.

"I wasn't quite able to shake off the feeling of... not wanting to be a burden. It's expensive to raise a child, after all, even with subsidies... a lot of my other foster parents had to work a lot harder with me when I was younger. Caretaker burnout really is... a lot."

She's sympathetic, but... it clearly hurt her, being passed around like a baton over and over. Having to retread the same ground, reintroduce herself, try to justify or explain her sobbing or sleepwalking or nightmares. Getting in trouble for drawing or saying things that were unsettling or disturbing in class.

"Especially for a child someone doesn't really... know. A lot of them would end up stressed out and traumatized from me."

Caretaker burnout really is... a lot.

The phrase echoed in his head like a cruel understatement, sharp and grating like microphone feedback in an empty auditorium. Maruki’s expression faltered—just for a moment. The usual warmth in his face dulled, replaced by something more raw, almost visibly trembling beneath the surface.

He leaned forward slightly—not out of disrespect, but instinct. The kind of instinct that came from watching someone walk barefoot through glass and realizing they believed they were meant to.

"Hamuko-san," he said softly, voice thick with disbelief, "you were just a child."

There was a weight to those words—not scolding, but defensive, protective, like someone trying to argue with the universe itself.

"How could it have ever been you who was the problem? You were grieving, displaced, put into unfamiliar places again and again—and yet you're the one explaining yourself? You're the one carrying the guilt?" His hands clenched for a second in his lap, unclenching slowly as he let out a breath.

"No child should ever feel like they need to justify their pain. That they have to perform stability to be worthy of care. It's not your fault they didn’t know how to hold space for your grief. That doesn't make you a burden—it makes the world you were placed in unfair. Inhuman, even."

There was a long pause. The tension in his shoulders hadn't quite gone down, but his voice gentled again, that familiar soft tone of a man trained to speak with hurting people—but whose heart still gets ahead of him.

"...You didn’t make anyone suffer, Hamuko. People failed you. That’s not on you."

He smiled then, quietly with the slightest bit of sorrow.

"That's the thing, though... I think both are true. I didn't do anything on purpose... I needed help that almost no one knew how to give. And it's not really their fault... a lot of them tried very hard to adjust, but just weren't equipped, and ended up feeling worse about themselves."

She shook her head, smiling sadly.

"No one's really at fault, no one was abusive... after all, who would ever understand a child trying to describe the Dark Hour, when that should just be... a nightmare. A trauma-induced nightmare. Right? And they did their very best with what they did know."

Maruki looks at her, the anger subliming to a tension drawn on light piano notes.

"Is that what you would have told your younger self?" He asks, honestly. "If she had asked for answers- would you be happy with providing her this one?"

"Hah! If I could've met my younger self... I would've taken care of her. I would've helped her, because I actually can," Hamuko laughed, shaking her head. "I'd be there for her... I'd tell her what's going on with the scary part of the night, and the coffins, and those shadowy things that growl in the corners."

That's not what Maruki asked, though. Not really.

"But if it were someone else... yes, I think it would be important for them. It's not their fault, and it's not that anyone hates them. Things are difficult and unfair, but people don't resent you. Things will change... you'll make friends... you'll find the thing in life worth fighting for."

"A world filled with kind, welcoming people...yes," he nods slowly. "Now that would be a miracle in its own right. Maybe that was our true purpose, you know? To give each other hope..."

And yet, she would grow up realizing that she would pass away before she could really even begin to enjoy life for what its worth.

"But what if you lose it when you never had the chance to savor it?" The smile insists, even if his jaw is tight with barely unbridled emotions. "What happens when the world wishes for ruin again? So many things in your life will always be out of your control- why wait to set it all right when you have the means to escape it?"

Edited 2025-07-03 10:19 (UTC)

"The world still wishes for it. That's why I'm still the Seal," Hamuko shook her head, smiling. "Escape means sacrificing everyone else, and I won't do that. I don't have a lot of control over how events happen, but I want to give people the ability to find happiness and hope with each other. I might be the Seal for a long, long time... and that's okay. That's what I knew going in. Even if it takes forever, I know people will find their way, someday."

"Through the power of cognition anything is possible," he remarks. "I am not sure if you are from my world or not but...if we could change the general perception to let things play out a certain way- surely that could help you."

"Or your twin brother...er, I am not sure."

Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject