Hikari, Siu Marshland Chronicles (Private)

[Siu]

Synposis: An ongoing collection of adventures, experiences, and journal writings from Siu's four year journey through the Marshlands

Table of Contents:<i></i>

1. Re-Evaluation Pt 1 (Journal)
2. Re-Evaluation Pt 2 (Journal)
3. The Story Begins (Story Arc)

((Last Update January 26, 2019))​

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Re-Evaluation Pt 1 (Journal)

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Like waking up from a dream, or perhaps a nightmare I'd actually failed to recognize--as such occurrences rarely ever managed to disturb my psyche at this point, I found myself opening my eyes to what I perceived as reality.
But even this reality felt like the continuing state of a dream; One which I neither took pleasure in, nor unbearable dissatisfaction--for I understood what was to come as the future progressed; Like waiting in the midst of an intense thunderstorm, in full knowledge that by nature my eyes were eventually bound to witness rays of sun creeping through its black clouds as its wrath slowly subsided.
My eyes felt sleepy, though I was fully awake, I stood in a daze though I was fully conscious. Gazing towards raised palms, I mechanically opened and closed them as if in they'd contained some sort of answer; Recognizable, yet still altogether somehow unfamiliar. It was as if I'd suddenly been granted with some form of conscious thought.
Who was I, again? A product of chance, an accumulation of my past experiences, or still, perhaps, nothing at all--like unmolded clay still awaiting it's final formation?
What day was it, again? What year was it? How long had I existed, yet never truly been alive?

Ah yes, that's right, today was my birthday.

 

[Siu]

Synposis: An ongoing collection of adventures, experiences, and journal writings from Siu's four year journey through the Marshlands

Table of Contents:<i></i>

1. Re-Evaluation Pt 1 (Journal)
2. Re-Evaluation Pt 2 (Journal)
3. The Story Begins (Story Arc)​

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Re-Evaluation Pt 2 (Journal)

​

Time continued to pass; I was sure of it, for the furniture appeared far more dustier than usual, while the wall corners had begun to sport a new accumulation of cobwebs. Yet, how much time had actually passed, or even a rough estimation of it, I found myself utterly unable to determine. Based on the drastic aging of the room, raw logic contended that anywhere from months to years had already passed. Yet, if I spoke completely based from my perspective alone, the entire room had suddenly aged in a single turning of the head, a single blinking of the eyes. The once simple yet pleasing wooden wall which had served as the main canvas for the painting of my rampant thoughts now appeared far more worn and unappealing than usual.
Shall I share something with you, a secret of mine? For some unnatural reason, I'd felt as I'd surely already foreseen the culmination of it all; A delusional statement and utter stupidy most would swiftly judge--Yet, I was sure of it.
However, there was a problem; As always appeared to be the unsurprising case. Near this culmination, as I began to retrace my thoughts, would you have believed that the very beginning had eluded me? I assure you, I've desperately meditated, rummaged, wept, and frustratingly screamed in search of it; Yet, all to no avail.
Have you ever so painstakingly made efforts in order to complete what seemed to be a puzzle so intricate, it appeared completely impossible to solve, only to look back near its completion and suddenly find the very first piece nowhere to be found, rendering the entire endeavor itself utterly worthless?
This single piece was once a shape with an obscure image I couldn't quite determine, yet knew still existed to be located somewhere deep within the chambers of my mind. Yet, as my desperate search for this piece and time continued to pass, even the very shape of that piece had become a blur, and I found myself questioning whether this piece had even ever truly existed at all to begin with, or had simply been a product of my own imagination, a delusional pursuit I'd somehow convinced myself to be a true memory. In the medical field we referred to such cases as mental disorders; A rather troublesome affliction indeed.
In times like these, one was strongly advised to consult a professional; a mental or even medical evaluator of the sort. The irony of it all was I was a devotee to such studies, yet could not even treat my own symptoms. Even more ironic than this was not only could I not treat my own symptoms, but I could not even 'determine' the very source of my symptoms. A doctor to the sick, yet I could not even treat my own self?
Piles of books completely obscured the tops of the desk and tables, awaiting their research, yet I'd forgotten the purpose for their gathering. Endless notes lay strewn all about the floor, yet I could not inform you of the objective I had so fervently written them for. Where had I been so desperately running; Had I even a destination at all to begin with?​

 

[Siu]

Synposis: An ongoing collection of adventures, experiences, and journal writings from Siu's four year journey through the Marshlands

Table of Contents:<i></i>

1. Re-Evaluation Pt 1 (Journal)
2. Re-Evaluation Pt 2 (Journal)
3. The Story Begins (Story Arc)​

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The Story Begins (Story Arc)

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'Illana!' My ears would manage to discern before the wooden door behind me violently swung open in the midst of my studies, slamming loudly against the wall with such force that it resulting in an avalanching of a number of books from upon the shelves. My dreary eyes managed to actually widen somewhat from what might have been perceived as an emotion of sudden surprise, despite my long-overworked mind and long-trialed heart having felt incapable of even processing intense emotions any longer.

"Illana! Jiguym cheongsyo!"

He'd receive a blanked faced, wearied gaze in response despite his impassioned emotions as my ears struggled to perceive the linguistics of the foreign tongue.

"Jiguym ya!" He'd more impatiently demand.

"..Lightening Narraah?" I'd voice back in an inquiry, hopeful.

"Ahwnii!"

If there had beforehand appeared even the faintest hint of enthusiasm upon my haggard expression at that time, it had immediately and wholly died again the moment I processed the reply.

"When will we be in Lighte---"

My frustrated host's grace would not last long as his patience reached its end. I'd suddenly feel a forceful, tight grip upon the shoulder of my shirt and myself being pulled away from my humble little dwelling. I could feel the fury of his emotions from his grip.

Ascending up the darkened hallway of stairs, yet a second pair of wooden doors would also violently burst wide open with the loud force of his agitated fury, the immediate radiance seemed to almost blind my eyes due to my long seclusion inside. My rotted and eroding dark-brown and black wooden ceiling would immediately find itself replaced by clear, turquoise skies. The sound of roaring waves resounding in my ears, in addition to the sound of...vigorous scrubbing.

Stumbling out of the entrance to the main deck, I observed the mixture of matured and adolescent youths not unlike myself going about their daily task.

"Cheongsyo!" I'd find myself demanded of again, before feeling a mop handle firmly shoved against my chest. My angry host would then storm off elsewhere, likely to traumatize one of the other unfortunate souls on-board. Releasing a somewhat relieved sigh upon witnessing the departure of his presence, my dirt-stained fingers slowly wrapping around the mop handle as I positioned it slightly farther away from my chest, my eyes and thoughts would slowly travel upward as I indulged in a moment to admire the beauty above me; The soaring and calling of the free white-seagulls above, the gentle collision of dark-blue waves below. For a moment, I actually may have felt something akin to peace of mind; Even past my untreated, sickened stomach and the languid feeling of my body, felt prepared to either throw up again or altogether collapse at any given moment.
My aching bones, wearied body, and dreary eyes would allow the sun to radiate some form of nutrients upon them through overworn and ragged threads which could hardly even be described as clothing any longer. My eyelids granting some rest to my pupils as I embraced the current moment with a strong inhale of the fresh morning-air of the sea, I felt a single tear slowly grazing down my left cheek.

How I yearned to see home...

 

[Siu]

Synposis: An ongoing collection of adventures, experiences, and journal writings from Siu's four year journey through the Marshlands

1. Back to Table of Contents</I>

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Chapter Four: Two Rascals
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<I>*Scrub, Scrub, Scrub*

"I'm tellin ya, dey say lightin got errvreythin!"

"No country got errvreythin, Rae—else nobody gots no reason to be runnin to fiya."

"Gots three meals a day dey say, and, err, what dey call dem? ....Snwaks!"

"If dey be eatin tree times 'sa day, Rae, ain't be no food left."

"Oi! Quit ya jabberin before I throw ya two little lantrine-wipes overboard—get back to scrubbin!"

"Ai, ai, Sir!"
"Ai, ai, Sir!"

*Scrub, Scrub, Scrub*

"I be tired'a scrubbin dees decks, Hiwi."

"Own'leh way we bees gettin 'ta lightnin, Rae."

"Why we gotta be workin like slabes, doh?"

"Cause we is slabes, Rae."

"Aye! Hiwi, dat don't be da point!"

"Oi! What the fuck did I just tell you two little shits?! You really wanna go swimmin in the ocean don'tcha?"

"N–no, sir!"
"N–no, sir!"

"Then get 'yer little asses back to scrubbin!"

"Ai, ai, Sir!"
"Ai, ai, Sir!"

*Scrub, Scrub, Scrub*

"Psst, Hiwi,"

"Yeh, Rae?"

"How good ya lightin speak be?"

"Ain't be so good, Rae; Cap'n dun stole ma book 'fer himselp."

"What?! Den why you ain't steal 'em back, Hiwi?!"

"Cause Cap'n 'll shoot me, Rae."

"Hmm..yuh rite; But what we gunna do whens we get 'ta lighten doh? Don't nobody be understandin us, Hiwi!"

"I be tryin, Rae; Ain't easy—dey words be so long"

"Aye! I got'sa idea."

"Last time ya gots'en idear we almose dropped doh, Rae,"

"Aye! We on 'dis ship ain't we?! Lissin up—see dat girl ova dare?"

"Ova where, Ra—"

"—Oi! Don't look so obious! One ova dare—scrubbin next to da barrels lookin like she ain't ate in weeks."'

"I be seein'ner, Rae—lookin like she be droppin soon like little Bibi dids lass week, me thinks."

"Aye—I dun seein'ner talkin to da first offica. She be speakin dat tongue—dat lightnin speak ya be so bad at!"

"Lighten speak dun do no good if ya be dead doh, Rae."

"Dang...yuh rite. But we can be learnin dat speak from'er 'fore she drop, doh—less get'er 'tention!"

"But Rae, Cap'n dun like—"

"—Dun matta what Cap'n dun like—he dun like nothin! Go call'er, Hiwi!"

"...Why I gotta be callin'er, Rae?"

"Cause ya be knowin dat speak."

"Ain't be so good at it, Rae."

"Just call'er!"

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In the midst of my laborious work, my focus and thoughts predominantly resided within an entirely separate realm, I'd periodically tune in and out of the routine chattering among the various children and teens aboard, distinguishing on occasion what had evidently been more than just merely distinct dialects of Marshlanic alone, yet entirely separate languages altogether to my intrigue; Informing me that I had not been the only foreign child aboard this ship. This symphony of multicultural voices, in harmony with the aggravated reprimands and threats of the overseer, had become my daily song. Though, one of these days I was sure one us were due to be thrown off deck; That is, if we didn't first all fall victim to starvation or our own individually untreated sicknesses and diseases plaguing the ship, just as one of the younger boys aboard already had but days ago.
He had been a native from the south of Marshland, an orphan like a large number of the laborers onboard. The hardships of sea-life in addition to the intense overlabor from our overseer had proven far too heavy of a burden for his unfit body to carry until one morning I witnessed them finally toss his frail corpse overboard as one throws excess baggage from upon the ship. There would be no funeral, no granted recess for mourning, no moment of silence—neither even a short prayer for the poor, unfortunate soul.
Over time, I'd come to understand that this was simply everyday life for the inhabitants of Marshland. Life here for the average citizen was a daily fight for survival, and there was no time to linger one's focus upon that which was already long past Hope's reach when you were not so far away from that very mark yourself. Resources here were in no way near as plentiful as our own within Kumogakure, and the people had grown quite accustomed to surviving days and even weeks on half a loaf of bread alone—the sudden, furious growl of my stomach would uncontestedly agree with that; Though, itself still far too afflicted to even properly digest food had it actually been readily available to me. Even attempting to simply digest water had become a battle these days.
The only method I'd found to effectively cope with such daily afflictions and avoid a cycled state of despair, was to bury my mind elsewhere but the realities encompassing me; somewhere other than this ship, somewhere other than this seemingly perpetually–furious overseer and dubious Caption, somewhere past this afflicted and starving body of mine. I entrusted my entire essence to a realm called Hope. Today in particular, however, life appeared to have an unexpectedly unique surprise in store for me to break this daily ritual; For, one of the other children aboard the ship ventured to disturb my usual reverie through a method I had never before experienced in all my weeks of working aboard this vessel. Disbelief illuminated my features as I turned in response to a peculiar greeting which distinguished itself from among all the other usual Marshlanic dialects and various foreign languages onboard.

"H–hay—herrway."

Momentarily ceasing from my duties, I'd raise a curious brow, allowing my gaze to settle upon the unfamiliar girl not too seemingly far from my own age. Adorned with blatantly misfitted, baggy clothing in no way tailored to properly suit her needs, she'd sport the usual decoration of amassed dirt and dust stains like the rest of us; Though, her attire at least seemed to be in more wearable condition than mine despite its still quite scruffy appearance.
Her unkempt, dark hair appeared naturally brown—yet, if to be fully honest, determining its exact shade seemed nearly impossible through the thick veil of dirt and dust sported by it due to her evident neglect of it. Her listless, dark eyes would not be unlike my own—the kind of eyes which had also become so jaded through the hardships of this land they lacked the bright radiance of emotion. She'd gaze at me with that lifeless and, admittingly, rather uncomfortable expression for a noticeable bit of time.

"H-hay, dur; Hewoo, I niisu to rryeet you." clumsy lips struggled to articulate.

I felt something cringe inside of me as she fumbled through words—or something akin to words, anyways. While her ineptness with my language was somewhat painful to endure, I nevertheless found myself rather astounded that she'd even been able to pronounce just that much. I could have cared less about her level of fluency, simply amazed to even bear witness to something just akin to my own language from the lips of a girl obviously unnative to my homeland; From where had she attained even 'that' much level of fluency?

"H-hello?" My lips remained parted after my reply, unmistakably awed.