How Hanayaga villagers Speak, versus how Bless speaks to whales

"Humhum! Expected, expected." Miteki Bless bobbed her head up and down.

"Who am I kidding! This is not expected!"

Her and Nakai-senpai had been at station door marker no.3. The usual one.

There is always two seats and a quarter left ("because of someone's big butt!") when she gets on this specific cart.

She'd done the calculations. With her experience, she tried-and-errored multiple train carts, lived different expectations and realities and schemer routes, rituals, demonic torture chaos, favorite and least favorite seats and which spot would be best to share with Nakai Yoshie!

This… however.

This situation however.

This disputation… however.

"This is impossible!"

Not everyone stared at her, most did.

They were trying not to catch the attention of the girl with a foot fetish.

"The family on L-seat 39 to 57 L-seat o.k!"

"Family Jajagannonohanabi on 38 R-seat to 23 R-seat, 'kay!"

"The college boyfriend and girlfriend—small downgrade from the wife and husband—on left seat-wing 22 and 21!"

"Wife-husband behind them, on left seat-wing 17 and 16!"

"Random nobodies on seat 18, 19, and 15 and the quarter seat 59!"

"And a random guy standing."

"Standing!?"

"Who are you all? Answer me, I need to know this."

Instead of the new people answering, the college boyfriend stood up so short-self Bless could see him.

This was his way of saying, "We're equals. Please shut up."

He would intensify this entering equation with his spoken words. "Please, quiet down. There are other people in the cart trying to commute. It's early, and I'm sure everyone here is tired. You're young so you may not understand."

"..?" Miteki Bless looked him up and down.

The cart began clapping for him.

He smiled, ignoring the way the volume of their celebrating contradicted his statement.

He sat down, prompted by his dimple-showing girlfriend dragging him down by the hand.

She whispered something sweet in his ear, and he kissed her cheek.

The clapping quieted down.

The man with headphones on didn't quite know what happened.

His buzzcut had a few long strands, quite clear because of how the train made them bounce.

Miteki Bless didn't even know stubs so little could be so attention-catching.

She struggled replying to him, her eyes drawn in loops to the buzzcut stubs waving at her.

Her words came out coded, not much effort put into them.

"Hey. Stand up again, Miyajima Sora."

"Why?" He asked, sitting.

"I'm going to reply back." She looked around, muttering at a volume lower than her blinks, so much for foreigners saying japanese culture is shy. "If I'm replying back, it needs to be with us, two at equal level."

"Alright," he smiled. He tried to subdue the smugness in it. Wrestling with it to force it into a tolerable, kind smile.

Miteki Bless heard seat 58 say, "Miyajima-san is the honored son every set of good parents want. How does anyone deal with Miteki…? A personality like that would make raising hard. Her poor mother, her poor father."

He must not know that Miteki Bless has no father.

None but a dead father.

Hanayaga village was small. He obviously knew.

Why argue with a Hanayaga villager? Can they act high and mighty, native to a run-down village?

It was hard-work, talent and accomplishments that mattered to Miteki.

She ignored him, with blond stubs trapping her attention occasionally, she preferably needs to focus. One conversation at a time.

More specifically, event identificatory, in debate, she developed the habit of focusing on one point before moving on to the next.

"Miyajima-san, firstly, you are allowed and valid for calling out my loudness. I apologize. Secondly, what you are not allowed to do is kiss your girlfriend after calling me out. Thirdly, what do you think I do not know about… 'tiredness'? Do you believe me to be out of this world? Do you think people of my age do not know of this untouchable object you call tiredness? Hello? Is your brain at home, Miyajima-san? Thrown out the train, caught by a conveniently open-wide by luck trash disposal? I'm ashamed to even call you a senior of life, Miyajima-san. And if I may…"

She looks around, pivoting her feet in multiple instances.

Her body spins around slowly, as she addresses all 30 people inside the cart.

"Can I distribute this train of thought to the rest of you?" She was asking for permission.

No one said anything.

Miyajima Sora suddenly realized his burden.

The tone in which Miteki Bless denounced him was one someone would use when telling you the time.

Unenthusiastic. Everyday-life. Unconcerned.

"Apathetic." He whispered, controlling his urge to reel back into his seat. "Miteki, you're calculated."

"Hm? What was that?" She bent her ear, a karate chop to the back of it, cupping it: I can’t hear you.

Lucky me, I wasn't heard.

I don’t know. Is she sarcastic?

…

Thinking like this doesn’t help when I'm trapped.

The people were counting on him, he couldn't not say anything.

"I believe everyone's answer would be, no." His charismatic smile dropped.

"Everyone."

"Answer."

"No."

Miteki Bless' buns on her head bounced, played with by the train's velocity.

Miteki Bless' brain swelled with recognition, what does it matter?

She does not need permission—the contents of her message would mean she does not need permission.

Her accolades mean she does not need permission—does not need permission.

"I'd like to say…" She started slowly.

This, this was disrespect to Miyajima Sora. Ignoring his feelings, ignoring his message.

Ignoring his message, was ignoring the sentiments of everyone else.

"That's disrespect." 58's whisper summarized that block of pseudo-philosophical text. (Read an upwards of two paragraphs.)

"I'm ashamed to call all of you my seniors in and of life. You did not stand up for me when he said: 'you do not experience the weary weight of life.' Who has decided that? And, I could easily take it as a compliment. I've won academic rewards before the age of 11, what have you all done? Do you think I did any of that with no work, no tears, no sweat, no faints? O.K. Good. Simply put, regardless, I am better than all of you."

Leave it up to Bless, if you need a handy-girl to exaggerate someone's words and turn their sentences into fantasy.

Huff.

"…" An empty coffee cup rolled across the floor.

A man from family L-seat 39 to L-seat 57 stood up. His hiking boots crushed the coffee cup as he walked towards Miteki Bless.

The residue coffee squirted out, the puddle's scent of siphon coffee wafting.

The residue coffee was far away from her, at an altitude where she should not be able to sensory-dip in the smell.

So, why can I smell it?

Is it coming from the mister in front of me?

Since when was a man in front of her?

A feeling so immense, any history of its contact was erased.

The feeling was so potent, she'd been infinitely numbed.

Positive canceling out a positive, churning a null below zero.

She'd been slapped—

—By the mister in front of her.

The smell came from his fingers.

Thumb at her temple, index bouldered atop her nose, middle finger shattering underneath her nostrils, the ring finger on her top lip, the pinky a lengthy, flowy cloud of cotton candy that did the least of damage nudged right between her top and bottom lip—she considered it the sweet finger, the one where the smell of coffee reached her less, made her barf less, made her cause stomach-mess less. Albeit, the margins didn't matter since his entire hand was coated, basked in cafe cherishes.

Heat came, frictional in her nose and mouth.

Her top gum bled.

Her nose bled.

Her vision blurred, there were two of that man.

Mister and Mister.

That dad of Maekawa family and that dad of Maekawa Family.

The Maekawas merged together as the blur burnt away.

He and He, wistfully bloomed into 'him.'

Himself, his lips pinched like a crab's pincers.

Mr. Maekawa said words she didn't process.

Tears welled up on her deadpan face.

His words evaporated once again.

She pointed a finger at his face. He swatted at it, his screaming voice muffled to her world expressing itself.

She said, no care for what he was saying, continuing to express her world, "I will not stoop down to your level."

She gritted her teeth, a miracle that she could be heard clearly. "I may not be number one in the world, but I am aware that I am number one in this train."

"I have explored every cart. I have noted down the lives and status of everyone in them."

"This train might as well be the world within my world!"

"The first world, I am nobody, the second world, I am nobody… but I am number one."

She stomped. "Touch me again, and you are disgracing gold! Do not touch me!"

"Sit back down and go back to your family!"

He spoke. She spoke louder. "I—" "What kind of example are you making!? Hitting me in front of so many kids! Hitting me, a child! If this was the city, there would be cameras in here and you'd be arrested with a ruined reputation."

"For the sake of your family, please don't ever do this again."

Mr. Maekawa although being part of those that misunderstood her, synchronized his consciousness with her meaning.

He heard in his head, "You can get angry at me again, that is a human right. You can express yourself, that is a human right. But control yourself, you are part of a family that needs not only your support, but you as a whole. You are important, don't lose yourself because of me."

He cleared his throat. Extended his arm, and expected a handshake—he let out an elicit sound, this was instinct at this point.

He was an interpreter that learned to do handshakes when making offerings and business deals. He was offering peace to a foreigner of earth.

"…" He retracted his hand and bowed low, lower than he'd ever bowed to a superior at his company.

The seated crowd gasped. Perhaps, with good reason.

Because Miteki Bless couldn’t hear him, he looked irrational.

What was stopping it from being the complete opposite, him speaking a decent case, her lashing out.

Well, no way to justify hitting a child.

Miteki Bless put a witch hat on him, wherein, no matter what, he was always the evil in the cabins during this situation.

He was green and black with pot, and she was child with beating heart.

That was an excuse to give different light to his actions.

Truthfully, without lie, the gasps were because of his attempted handshake.

Ahem.

His company had two branches. One full of architects and infrastructure inspectors. Another part that dealt with contracts like his and specially, sending the other branch abroad to share blueprints with other allied countries. As an interpreter of his background, he has, would’ve and had to deal with a lot of foreigners on a daily basis. 

Theorizing, all their attitudes might have gotten under his skin and morphed with his blood. Making him fundamentally foreign-blooded.

His eyes glowed blue, down where no one could see, and faded to his normal color when he rose from his bow.

He learnt something.

He walked back to his seat silently.

"Does anyone have tissue? I need to wipe, I need to wipe."

"I have one, I have one!" Miyajima's attempt at keeping his savior, nice guy persona.

"Thank you." Miteki Bless sniffed.

"Uh… yes." He bowed slightly.

She bowed her head, not bothering to lower her shoulders. According to her logic, he was beneath her.

Courtesy.

She cursed under her breath.

"The most human thing she's done," number 58 had neither sympathy nor further interest in the matter.

"…" Miteki Bless looked at him, wiping the blood off her face, stuffing her nose.

With a stuffy, runny voice, she said. "Fat Egg, you want to be next?"

Her country accent accentuated aggressively, heightening aggressively, sharpening a snarl. "What makes you think you're safe? Don't you understand the alleged amounts of excitement I have?"

"Come on, speak." She insisted. "Stutter out insults. Stutter out an apology."

He flinched at her and clicked his tongue.

He was three people away from her, for that to be scary was inconceivable.

"Ah, you stutter a threat using your body instead."

She sighed deeply, above her heart, not within her heart. "It is good, good… I have experience with standing up in trains. My balance is soooooo gooooooooooood!"

It wasn't.

No to discrediting her, her balance regularly was quite good.

Ballerinas? Envious.

She was lightheaded.

High off adrenaline.

"Huuuuuuuuuu…"

A ball revolves in her belly.

It rolls like the point of a ballpoint pen.

Scribbling and writing, lines and circles, squares and bubbles.

The pen enlarges and writes up all the way to her neck.

Strategically, Miteki Bless allows her body to fall.

She catches herself, part-instinct, part-not-there, part-there. Her arms shield her as she crashes against the window.

"That slap…huuu… set my system off…"

She opens the window, the latch wasn't difficult at all.

Half her body hangs out the window as she pukes.

"Miteki!" The wife on seat 16 runs to her.

She jabs her hands in between Miteki's legs, and hiccups as the feet kick into her abdomen.

She pulls Miteki up, both of them falling to the floor.

"Huh?"

"…" The wife on seat 16 stares at her blankly. "Miteki-san."

"Mm?" She rubs her eyes.

"… You know, forget it. I never helped you, never talked to you." She wiped her hands on Miteki's blazer, wrinkled over her white turtleneck.

"Thank you, Morimota-san." Miteki Bless managed.

She laid there on the floor for a couple of minutes.

She grumbled and stood up.

Her eyes confronted the window she'd opened. "Hey… you almost killed me—"

"Oh, Mon Dieu!" Bless was not at all into French. At least, she usually wasn't into it enough to cut her own person off.

For a fact, she loathed it. Had she not had memories attached to these words, her mind would not have attached its vines to her mouth and sinus system.

Trees and feathers line outside, lifted by the hands of the wind.

The wind, clearly cared delicately for them, sleepily tip-dancing around the grey wood of the trees, concerningly patting down the red and white leaves after every lift, passing through the feather-forest of perched doves and ravens coexisting, a manifesting breath preventing them from losing balance; it was all an ease of balance, a loose pressure of mathematical perfection, confidence boosted by the ability of creature sight and the hazardly ideas of nature and nature-going.

The leaves, red and white were Dieu; the branches grey and darker greys were Mon.

A while ago, in an ending spring as sprouty as this one, Miteki Bless ordained herself a task.

To read French philosophy. She'd never subject herself to learning French if it had no incencitive benefit. The bearing of the fruit was simple… She can win the French literature competition by learning from French philosophers with an augmented ability to express themselves in their native language.

She figured, even fragments of the greats filling in her articulation cracks would be sufficient suffocation for an auspicious panache.

During those late spring days, she'd walk great distances from previous stops to reach these trees. She'd climb them at length, grabbing the best leaves and smallest of branches to use as bookmarks.

She used them in tea. The books expressed many times the concept of "Dieu." Some would praise the Dieu and use the title to propagate cynicism during their epoch, others would condemn "Dieu" and use the existence of the title to describe the great crimes of humanity.

It was from these readings, and the multitudes of trains that'd pass her by on the way to the tree that she found a fitting name for the upcoming tracks.

The upcoming, the entire reason this train could be counted as a metro.

"Whale's Cove!"

She forgot her lightheadedness, her lightheadedness forgot her.

Joy and anticipation twirled inside her stomach, spiralling in laps and settling behind her belly button.

She hiccuped, nothing came of it.

Her fingers twitched, everything came of it.

She put her hands on the standing man's shoulders, using said shoulders as a platform to propel herself in the air.

With his back on the wall, he somehow got pushed back.

The wall would bend should it be a mattress.

"Mister Earhears, take those off!" She commanded.

"Uhhh…" He started, a bit dizzy. "Yeah, no. I don't have any money."

He scratched his neck. Kids want money these days, right?

"I don't need your money, just your attention."

"W-What?" What happened to kids wanting your money?

He blushed, velvet skin slapped onto his cheeks.

He put his music on louder, thinking he'd been mistaken.

He looked down, making sure to steal a few glances around the train. No one was paying attention right?

He closed his eyes, self-conscious, trying to disappear.

This child was slapped for throwing a tantrum and almost tried to kill herself by jumping out the window, that was bad business.

Best to stay out of her way.

He hummed along to the music.

♪ The world is my playground

The feels are swelled in my feet ♪

♪ My ankles are dying, can't be free

My new body, svelte and blurry ♪

♪ My patience in front of the world, slowly falling

I wish you could see me, my heart wants to beat out my chest and run out to you ♪

The train's people swayed to his humming. There wasn't anything particularly interesting, fascinating, beautiful, well-sounding or decent about it.

The melody sounded like Lydie Heung's newest song. That was worth it—that was all they needed.

Ao Itoha smudged her face inside Miyajima's neck cover. Her contented sigh tickled his skin, her widening smile and opening lips made him shiver.

"Hubbie, did you get tickets for tomorrow?"

You’re not married.

"Huh? What tickets?" He found it hard to get outside the wonder of her eyes. "Oh, tomorrow. Yes, third row, I believe."

"Mm…" She gave him a sly smile. "Tonight?" She pointed down a few times.

Miyajima Sora proudly snickered. "Please."

"Mhm."

Miteki Bless side-eyed them. "All that is wrong with the world. Thank you."

The people of Hanayaga village acted this way quite regularly.

To her, these interactions were normal. She hated normal.

Irrational people having outbursts, then inexplicably bowing down to her after hitting the blood out of her… frankly, admittedly normal.

She hated it, being loud to protect herself, protecting herself making her a target for poison, poisoning hurting her, making her efforts to defend herself useless.

Protect yourself and get hurt, on the other coin, let yourself get hurt and be hurt.

Protecting myself is wonderous. I don't care.

"Mister Earhears!" He couldn't hear.

Ear-hear, get it?

His humming became louder.

♪ My passion is blazing decree

Please don't assasinate me, for my beating heart ♪

♪ For my beating heart, for my beating heart

Needs to live past this fiery assassination ♪

His chugging laughter momentarily interrupted his humming. Whoever wrote this song for Lydie needs to be fired… This was his favorite song yet, amongst his own criticism.

A popular opinion circulating inside the large circle of Lydie Heung's fans.

Miteki Bless mistook the snicker for mockery.

She jumped up and snatched his headphones.

"Woah!" His hands swiped the air… score! should his target have been the emptiness.

His ears reddened as Lydie Heung's singing voice blasted around the train.

♪ They won't catch my butcher, but still sing this song

"You need to open your ears and experience the world!"

My murder song ♪

"My music!"

♪ The only way out, is to catch your heart

This was side B of the song Don’t Join Me In Death. It was a worthy paid purchase, because it wouldn't be sung at Lydie Heung's concerts.

"… You're difficult."

"Please," His bow stuttered. "Leave this grown man alone. I want peace."

"… Whale's Cove is coming. You will experience heaven on earth, don't be difficult."

"You're the one being difficult, let him listen to Lydie-chan in peace!" Ao Itoha's wanted opinion.

"Who are you in this conversation?" Miteki Bless asked.

"A passenger." The smile plastered on her face looked like plastic surgery. "Who wants peace."

"Are you threatening me?" She kept her eyes on the standing mister, steadily walking backwards.

"No, I'm kindly requesting you to calm down."

Her importance in Miteki's mind was little. To satisfy her bored mind, she noted things pertaining to the blond-head stub-party down.

The standing man was tall, didn't seem accustomed to the train… his sense of balance should be horrible.

One flaw.

He could hold onto the bars to walk to her.

She put her hands behind her, shielding the headphones.

"Walk to me, I will stomp them."

The standing man winced. "Little girl, oh!"

His shoulders shifted heights, his legs locked in kicks, his arms devoted to flails, he resembled a child throwing a tantrum. "What did I do to deserve your bullying?"

She shifted her attention. "Ao-san, I'm doing this for his own good."

"Explain yourself, little one." "No."

Just for calling me little one. Why would I tell you? Why should I tell you? Big adult. Hah!

"Please, give me my headphones back little girl."

"My name is Miteki Bless." She corrected.

"Miteki-san, ah, uh… Breast-san… Burst… Purse-san… Can I please have my headphones back?"

Forced. Why even use my first name when we’re strangers? 

I was starting like you, Alive-Blond. But you’ve got the Hanayaga-disease, it incubates devils!

"What's your name?"

"If I tell you, are you going to… give it back?"

"Leave the poor man alone, why isn't anybody speaking up!"

"Calm down, Toto-chan, you know there's no winning." Miyajima Sora pulled her into his side, hand patting her waist to Lydie Heung rhythmically playing on low volume. "For your own sake, drop it. That's what everyone else is doing."

"But—"

He shushes her, rubbing his nose against hers. "Wait it out, don't provoke her. She'll run over out of juices the less interactions she gets."

"In due time." Miteki says to the man. "Due time, dear." She bats her eyelashes swiftly.

"Kanemaro Kenzo." He nods.

"Kanemoro Kenzo, do you really like Lydie Heung?"

"Yes. Do you do too?" He shut his eyes tight, directly after asking. Of course she does, what a stupid question! Everyone loves Lydie Heung!

"Not really, I prefer Kyla Heung." 

"Her unknown sister--uh! Her sister?" The standing man was appalled.

"Some true colors." Miteki Bless quietly directed the conversation. No one else heard this but her clear conscience.

"Miteki saying despicable things again!" 58 howled loudly, her lips moving was what let him assume.

Miteki Bless swiftly turned her head around.

"Shut up!"

My silent tyranny, ruined by a hard-boiled egg. Ugh! I demand you justice, obey! 

58 put his hands up in surrender and grumbled. "… Someone better sneak up on her and trip her up. Awful brat!"

58 rubbed his forehead repetitively against his forearms, he was genuinely stressed.

"… Why… why do you like Kyla Heung?" Kanemaro Kenzo asked.

"What's not to like? Actual good lyrics. Signs deals by herself. Doesn't interact disingenuously with the public. Good voice. A pretty face… no thoughts on her personality."

"Uh, t-take that back!" Kenzo's voice raised.

"What?" Miteki Bless smiled.

I like Kyla Heung because I see her less. 

Lydie Heung is everywhere, and I know nothing about her.

I want to like someone who I don’t see, who I don’t know.

The mysteries, yanno?

"She's grimacing at him? Now?" 58 complained, twisting in his seat.

The plan was working. She peered out the window behind him, bliss.

Cloud nine calling!

Her lover!

"Don't shade our nation's Lydie that way!" Kenzo's stance looked to be an unintentional kata set, osu!

"Our?" Her eyebrow quivered. "Our?"

Her hand gripped her face theatrically, she leaned back 45 degrees and laughed viciously. "Our nation's Lydie, but her family name is Chinese!"

"It's called a suh-suh, st-stage name!"

"Eh." Miteki Bless' lids looked heavy.

She stopped her poor acting and sent the headphones flying to him.

She faced her back to him, peering out the closest window.

She wondered if she should open.

It took only a moment, but she did.

Her Miteki-named Whale's Cove.

A unique phenomenon.

The trees hung over the tracks.

The train collided with branches that crept up from both sides of the screeching, sparking rails. 

The tree signalled for the other trees to lift their branches up, years and years of self-evolution to protect their branches.

The actual way this would happen was through the first pair of trees.

The train hitting the branches would create a huge, perpetual, straight-heading gust.

As the train passed by, the branches in its path would rise up and narrowly avoid it.

As a consequence, the sound the velocity made passing below the ascending leaves and mixing through the descending leaves sounded like a whale's wail.

Hence, Miteki Bless called it, "Whale's cove."

She closed the window once they exited the blockade of grey and red.

"I don't care about Lydie Heung or Kyla Heung. I know nothing about them."

They are just names she heard in passing.

Names she said in passing.

Passing by Whale's Cove.

"Listen to your music, try not to think about how I was stalling you."

Kanemaro Kenzo knew he couldn't be mad.

She said it herself, "Open your ears to the world."

He shed a tear.

"Beautiful."

Red leaves fell to the floor.

White leaves hovered for a second, then graced the floor.

The train head underground.

Miteki Bless closed her eyes.

"Next time I open these things, I'll be in school."

With a girl's whose name passes through her, without avoidance.