/jp/ - Otaku Culture

Loss of freedom comes in many forms. Some are born without it, some lose it…

I wonder what hurts more.

I lift my eyes up from the notes and quaint apparatus made of phantom glass—bluish flames flickering inside and reflecting outside in a curious show of supernatural—and look towards the other confined here with me. She sits by Anon's side, phantasmagorically towering above the man and yet talking with a serene smile about this and that; her tactic to try replicating the brief connections she had with him, her eyes longly on the mistress' sister playing with the annoying shikigami.

A twitch of my eyebrow, and I return to my maddeningly stagnated studies, mind worn out yet able to continue anyway. Duplicating the ritual to access Sekai's world has returned poor results; magic aligned and—supposedly—right, but none of that matters if there's no opened portal to an uncharted world of wonders.

A puzzling world that did the impossible.

Giggles reach my ears, and I turn—’twas a mistake—to look towards the commotion. With the bakeneko using the terrain to her advantage and vanishing into the foliage, Flandre chases after her, obviously faster but blind to the terrain being used against her. The mistress' sister seems to enjoy the challenge anyway, flying through thick branches of hardwood that slap and break against her body, unbothered with her immortal and unbridled vigor…

After more than a century of living with a disease that has destroyed the prospect of physical activity, I've become an expert at dealing with envy. Discovering magic and I stopped giving physical labor the time of day, completely forsaking it when I picked up the pen and wrote my first book… Truly, one I'm ashamed of today, but everyone has its roots.

I was content with this inherent flaw that not even Eirin dares touch, my body so mired in the magical world that deciphering it’d look more like trying to make sense of an astral maze than of a mound of flesh…

Then I was split into half, body and mind.

The vampire's giggling intensifies into a blare as I look down at the mountain of spectral books and pages, documents, and glass machinery; a mild sigh escapes me…

I need peace and quiet to further this research. Yes.

So I get up on my own two legs—legs that hardly ever saw action—grass brushing my feet an electric feeling, and bend down, coiling in my arms a humble assortment of important items, deciding to focus more on the theory and crafting of coordinates and leave the hefty physical work for posteriority…

And I walk.

My gaze flickers from the vampire and the cat to Meiling and the man, a neutral, if bored, expression on my face; however, something resonates within my chest when I look into his eyes, a depth to them that pulls the strings of my heart: confined against his will, powerless to resist fate. A star that collapsed yet clings to life like an infant to its mother, hoping to savor freedom once again. I wonder what you'd do if freedom were within your reach, Anon… Would you just gawk at it and, in your surprise, let it escape through the cracks between your fingers? Would you feel okay if that were to happen?

My pace quickens—Meiling follows me with her stare yet does nothing, our eye contact lasting a mere moment—and I find myself facing the torii gates covered in snow, arms full of all these important documents for my research and experiments.

I wonder if you'd cry, Anon Hakurei. If you'd blame the world for your woes and the position you have found yourself in—toyed by hands much more powerful than yours, evaluated like a piece of meat…

I stop.

I have known you for a mere year, Anon. A year of captivity and pain, of disgrace, of the loss of my freedom yet the discovery of… Something that I've never thought I'd feel before. I've silently watched you this entire year, and to this thought experiment, I think that…

… You'd reach towards freedom with all your might, desperate to reclaim what was once yours, isn't that right?

I know that because—

The papers are neatly put on the ground and the pens are vertically adjusted. Nothing is out of order as I rise again to my full, if lacking, height.

—I understand you, Anon.

And I run.

It's not the first time, and though it feels somewhat guilty and embarrassing—just the thought of Meiling witnessing me just… Running through the forest, feet buried in the snow, tower-length hair flowing in the spectral wind that hits my face… I do it anyway, chilled even though I cannot feel cold.

I run like child me never could; I jump over roots and stumble, get up, and just continue running towards the non-euclidean barrier, always returning to this starting point yet unbothered by the futility of what'd be a death sentence to my physical self, thirsting for more and more of this fruitless endeavor.

My heart pounds, my blood hastes, feet meet stone and harsh ground, lungs overwork, and, on my face, awe. Knowledge is power…

… And I'll use all of mine to take this freedom out with me.