Chapter 70: Paper boat, river and rock.
'What does it mean to be human?'
Chen Ming stood alone in his room, his gaze fixed on the mirror before him. The reflection staring back at him was familiar, yet distant. His dark eyes traced the lines of his face—the angles, the curves—all well-known but strangely foreign.
He reached out, fingertips brushing the cool surface of the glass, feeling a pang of something deep within him—a yearning, a need to reconnect with the parts of himself that had become lost, obscured, or perhaps even forgotten.
On the windowsill beside him, a simple clay bowl sat quietly, filled with clear water. Floating on its surface was a single, delicate paper boat, meticulously folded, its edges crisp and unwavering.
This boat was a symbol of hope, of innocence, a remnant of a time before Roward School had taken so much from him. Now, it was a fragile thing, barely holding together, easily disturbed by the smallest movements.
'Is this all that remains of me?' Chen wondered, the question hanging in the still air like a heavy fog.
He adjusted his shirt, its fabric smooth and unwrinkled, yet there was a dissonance—a jarring contrast between the neatness of his appearance and the turmoil churning within him.
The year in the default class had been merciless, a brutal force intent on reshaping him, stripping him of everything that made him human. But throughout it all, he had clung to something deep within, a core that refused to be worn away. He hadn't become the rock in the river, unyielding and unchanged. Instead, he had become something more fluid, more alive—an individual striving to remember what it meant to feel, to connect, to be human.
'Being human isn't about resisting change,' Chen mused, lifting the small bowl to eye level, watching as the paper boat shifted slightly in the water. 'It's about reclaiming what was lost.'
The paper boat, fragile though it was, also symbolized resilience. Despite everything, it floated—a testament to the parts of himself that had survived Roward's relentless trials. It reminded him that, deep down, he was still human, still capable of feeling, of connecting with others, even if those connections had frayed over time.
Gently, almost reverently, he set the bowl back down, careful not to disturb the fragile vessel within. Today, he would meet Ren and Akeshi. Ren, not known to Chen, was searching for a way to reconcile the pieces of himself. Akeshi, with his warmth and care, was like sunlight breaking through the clouds—a light that could guide others back to themselves.
And what about him?
Chen was trying to remember how to feel the warmth of that light, how to let it in without losing himself again.
As he prepared to leave, Chen took a final glance at the paper boat, floating serenely in the bowl. 'To be human is to be fragile,' he realized, 'but also to be resilient, to float even when the water rises, to find meaning in the connections we make, no matter how delicate.'
Stepping out of his room, Chen felt the cool days air brush against his skin as the door clicked softly shut behind him. The image of the paper boat lingered in his mind—a symbol of his journey toward reclaiming his humanity. In the gathering to come, he would not just endure; he would strive to connect, to feel, to be human once again.
'What does it mean to be human?' he asked himself, the cool air a soothing balm on his skin. The answer wasn't in resistance, but in acceptance—in allowing himself to feel, to heal, and to find meaning in the fragile, beautiful connections that made life worth living.
••••••••
The sun's early rays filtered through the thin curtains of Yukimiya Namakemono's room, casting a warm glow over a chaotic scene. The room, cozy yet cluttered, looked like a cyclone had passed through. Crumpled futons, scattered books, and a cold cup of coffee littered the floor. Amidst this mess, Namakemono lay sprawled out on his futon, his tousled hair splayed around him like a dark halo. He was in a deep, peaceful slumber, completely oblivious to the world outside.
The tranquility of the scene was abruptly shattered by the loud, comedic clamor of Okaba Yuuki, who burst into the room like a whirlwind of chaos and cheer. Yuuki's hair was as wild as his personality, and his grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear. With an exaggerated flourish, he swaggered over to Namakemono's futon, his voice booming with playful mischief.
"Wake up, you lazy sack of potatoes! It's past noon, and if you don't drag your ass out of bed, Tarazune and Tokusake will start thinking you've gone into hibernation mode!" Yuuki's tone was a mix of mock irritation and genuine amusement.
Namakemono stirred, barely moving, his face still buried in the futon. The peaceful ambiance of the room contrasted sharply with Yuuki's raucous entrance. With his parents out for the day, the house was eerily quiet, save for Yuuki's booming voice.
"Yuuki, for the love of sleep, it's too early for your bullshit," Namakemono mumbled, his voice muffled by the thick fabric of his futon.
Yuuki threw his hands up dramatically, as if witnessing the greatest injustice of all time. "Too early? My friend, it's a goddamn crime against humanity to be in bed at this hour! The sun is shining, the world is awake, and you're here snoring like a freight train. Ming was supposed to pick us up by now, and he's probably losing his shit waiting out there!"
Namakemono grunted, slowly rolling over to face Yuuki. His eyes, half-closed with sleep, met Yuuki's with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "And you're like a hyperactive squirrel on a caffeine high. How can you be so damn peppy in the morning?"
Yuuki's grin widened, clearly enjoying the banter. "It's called having a zest for life, my friend! Hard work is overrated. Why bust your ass when you can enjoy the ride? But you, you're like a rock in a river—steady, unmovable, and blissfully ignorant of the hustle and bustle around you."
Namakemono chuckled, stretching lazily. "And you're the river, rushing around and making a fuss over everything. I guess that's why we work so well together. You might be a hyperactive mess, but I respect the hell out of your enthusiasm. It's like you're the life of the party, and I'm the guy who makes sure the party doesn't get too crazy."
Yuuki laughed, clearly thrilled with the comparison. "Exactly! And let me tell you, your chill vibe is like a cool breeze in a sweltering desert. Now, if you don't get up and get moving, Ming's going to have a fit, and I'll have to explain to Tarazuen and Tokusake why we're late!"
Namakemono finally sat up, rubbing his eyes and giving Yuuki a half-smile. "Fine, fine. I'll get ready. Just don't expect me to be all chipper and ready to take on the world. I leave that to you."
Yuuki clapped his hands together, beaming. "Perfect! And if you're not fast enough, I might just have to resort to dragging you out of bed. You know I'm not above it!"
As Namakemono shuffled to his feet and began getting ready, Yuuki's laughter filled the room, a bright and infectious sound that contrasted sharply with the earlier quiet. The two friends continued their banter as Namakemono slowly prepared himself for the day ahead, Yuuki's energy seemingly endless like the space. It increases without stop.
Despite his external protests, Namakemono couldn't help but feel a certain warmth in Yuuki's enthusiasm. Yuukis vibrant spirit was a constant reminder that, despite his own laid-back attitude, there was value in embracing life's chaos—if only for the sake of those around him, If only it was what the world had thrown at him naturally, not by someone or something else.