SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

((Yuka Hayashibara continues from I Pray to the Lord You Reveal what His Truth is))

The morning was truly upon them, and yet they hadn't found either of Yuka's sisters yet. They had been on the right path at some point, but that point had been a long time ago. In the meantime, they had happened upon mansions and lakes and waterfalls, and they were pretty and all, but none of it really meant anything because her sisters weren't there to see it. She had thought herself at least decent at navigating herself, but apparently not. They should have arrived at the stables hours ago.

Their journey across the island had been punctuated by a few conversations here and there about nothing. Yuka had had a few laughs at Manuel's expense when she showed them the salt gun, that Nerf-like weapon that had had them all spooked when they first woke up, but the laughs were there only because they were expected. She was supposed to let out a light laugh, she was supposed to poke a little fun at him. They all rang hollow, and they failed to bring her joy. And she didn't expect to feel any happiness, deserve to feel any happiness, until she found her sisters. Her sisters were her happiness, after all. And she would get her happiness in the end, she had to.

The three of them were awake now, Yuka and Manuel and Sal. That was one of the regrets Yuka had, bringing two other people along, two people that could afford to sleep. Because, sure, they too probably had people they loved and cared about on this island, but none of them, to her knowledge, had family. None of them understood the energy pulsing through Yuka, the need to be with her sisters right here, right now. And if it were up to her, then she would have had them walk all night just to catch a glimpse, an echo of one of them. But people had to sleep. So, they had chosen their spot, a dirt patch in the middle of the forest, once it had gotten dark. And here they were.

It was bright now, and the announcements hadn't come yet. That was the most specific knowledge Yuka had about SOTF, that danger zones and the dead were announced each morning. The sun seemed high enough, it seemed close enough.

The three of them were awake, Sal and Manuel just barely. Yuka had been awake a bit longer, she had roused them awake. They had to get going soon. But not yet. They needed to gather themselves, after all, get their bearings, figure out where to go, where to run if ever their place was a danger zone. Yuka, especially, needed to collect herself.

"Hey, I need to take a leak," she said plainly to the others. "Don't follow," she said, looking at Manuel in particular, a sly smirk on her face.

And then she walked, smile going away the instant she turned around. That was a lie, she didn't need to relieve herself. But it was a convenient excuse. She needed time to herself, by herself. She couldn't risk Manuel seeing her like that again, seeing her so vulnerable, like he had when he had followed her yesterday. He didn't have the right. Yuka walked in a straight line, far enough so that she couldn't see them anymore. She then leaned against a tree, blocking herself from their view. Her breathing was slow, deep, her fingernails dug into the soil.

The speakers began to crackle.

((Sal Bonaventura continued from I Pray to the Lord You Reveal what His Truth is

Sal lay on the ground, groggily staring at the morning sky as Yuka left to take care of her bodily necessities. His whole body ached from the awkward position that he had been sleeping in, and from using a rather stiff dufflebag as a poor imitation of a pillow.

He knew he should probably get up, start cleaning up their campsite, make preparations to get moving. He would, just after another few seconds. Perhaps it was just an expression of how pathetic and lazy he was, but he always made sure to treasure those few minutes of every morning where he was not sleeping, yet also not yet awake. The hazy, almost dreamlike quality of those moments was like a thick wall that kept all his fears and anxieties at bay, at least for a little while.

Unfortunately, he didn't get to enjoy that protection for long, as the crackle of the announcement speakers dragged his mind kicking and screaming into the waking world, the realm of monsters. He listened with growing horror at every new name added to this list of the dead, his stomach dropping at them mention of a single name that stood out among all the others.

Yuko.

Sal sat up with a jerk and looked around for where Yuka was, completely forgetting for a moment the act that he had been putting on for Manuel. He..he couldn't...she... His thoughts bounced around in a jumble of emotion, but there was one clear desire among them. He had to find Yuka, and make sure that at the least, she didn't face this alone.

He pulled himself to his feet, calling out to his friend and heading off in the direction he thought she might have gone in. He couldn't see where she was, but he wasn't about to just sit there and wait until she came back.

((Manuel Figueroa continued from I Pray to the Lord You Reveal What His Truth is))

Yuka's gun was fake. Nothing but salt. On the one hand, that meant that Manuel was safe from her. On the other hand, so was everyone else. She'd laughed. He'd laughed. It wasn't like there was anything else to do. It was just ridiculous that she had what was essentially a prop.

It hadn't helped his ability to sleep one bit. He'd just laid there for practically the entire night, eyes open, scared that someone was going to come over and cut them in half. It was almost a relief when Yuka and Sal woke up. Maybe he'd actually get to sleep now.

KSSSSH

Okay, he could give it a few minutes as Yuka walked off during the announcement. Manuel just rolled his eyes as the names were listed out.

Paloma Salt killed Abel Zelenovic.
Tirzah Boss killed Toby Underwood.
Tyrell Lahti killed Chris Bright.
Nick Ogilvie killed Beryl Mahelona.
Tyrell Lahti killed Felix Rees.
Katrina Lavell killed Yuki Haya ... shi ... bara.

Manuel looked at Sal, then in the direction Yuka had gone, then back to Sal.

"Uhhhhh ... not good."

No sound came from the trees as Yuko's name passed by, an aside, forgotten. No answer came as Yuka's name echoed through the woods.

Sal paused for a moment, looking back at Manuel. No shit Sherlock, this wasn't good. If yelling at him would have done any good, he would have done it, but for now, he just gave a quick nod and went back to looking for Yuka.

Where could she possibly have gone? Not that much time had passed, had it? She couldn't have walked that far...unless...

A sinking feeling arose in the pit of his stomach as he considered the possibility of her running off and leaving him alone with Manuel. He renewed his search more vigorously, nervously scanning the trees, though without calling out this time. With how upset she was, shouting for her would only spook her.

Turning back to Manuel and trying his best to put on as much of a calm face as he could, he asked,

"Did you see which way she went?"

Manuel's mind had gone through a bit of a lapse upon realizing that one of the two people Yuka was looking for was dead. It was more than what he could say for Yuka. Although to be honest, he was a little grateful that he hadn't gone to sleep.

"That way." Manuel pointed in the general direction he saw Yuka go.

This is gonna suck.

Nothing moved as the boys looked for Yuka. No branch moved in the air, no bird flew. No stick snapped. No sign of life.

Sal took a deep breath as he walked slowly in the direction that Manuel pointed out. His heart pounded as he paced his steps slowly and evenly, desperately trying to keep his body from trembling as he approached Yuka's location.

What was he going to find there? Would there even be a person there anymore or would she just have run off? Even worse, if she was there, what state would she be in? Nobody would take the news of losing their sister well, especially not someone as close to her as Yuka was to hers. Even trying to imagine what he would see there was somewhat terrifying.

He swallowed hard as he craned his neck, trying to scan the trees, searching for his friend's elusive figure.

Manuel followed Sal, looking around for that familiar shade of yellowish green. He was just hoping she was still there and taking it well. Well, as well as one could hope for which was, not very well. Jeez, how did one even go comforting someone with this? Oh, hey, sorry your sister died, get well soon. That wouldn't work at all.

"Yuka? Yuka?"

Eventually, Yuka stumbled towards them, floating, empty.

Doubtful, uncertain, unsure she was stepping on solid ground.

Was she? Was she even here? Was this happening? This wasn't happening, right? This wasn't supposed to be happening. They were—her foot caught on a rock, she collapsed, failed to catch herself, face hit dirt—supposed to be here, together.

Yuko

Yuko was

Yuko



She pushed herself up, arms trembling, more dirt embedding into her nails, body shaking, weakening—Yuko was supposed to be the strong one—she fell. And she wasn't floating anymore, and she could never float from now on, and a weight had dropped into her stomach and stuck her to the ground and she willed it so.

She looked up, and they were looking at her, and she was looking at them. Blurs she thought, she guessed, she was left to believe were them. And they looked at her with concern, they looked at her with pity, they looked at her, as if she was the only thing wrong right now. As if they hadn't heard what she'd just heard.

Manuel. He played sports. He knew Yuko. Why was he OK? Why wasn't he like her right now, like Yuka? Why did he only care about Yuka? Did he not care about Yuko?

And. Of course he didn't. Of course he and Sal didn't. They didn't know. They didn't understand. Yuko was just an aside, a name to feel sad about for them. They didn't know.

She forced herself up. So they could stop. So they could stop looking at her. She couldn't look at them. Couldn't bear to see them looking at her. They weren't supposed to look at her. They were supposed to stop. Stop it. Please. Stop. It was like they were just waiting on her. Like she was their leader—Yuko was supposed to take care of everything. They were supposed to. They were suppos—They—together, they were supposed to be together, and she was supposed to take care of everything. And now she wasn't. And now they were expecting her to do so. And she was never supposed to do so. It was never supposed to be like this. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen. This w ‏‏‎wasn't s ‏‏‎ u ‏‏‎ pposed to happen. Thhhi s wasn't su ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ppo ‏‏‎ osed to ha p p en. ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ T ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ h ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ i ‏‏‎ i ‏‏‎ s ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ w ‏‏‎ a ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ s ‏‏‎ n nt' ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ s ‏‏‎ u ‏‏‎ p ‏‏‎ p ‏‏‎ o sed ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ t ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ o ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ h ‏‏‎ a ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ pp ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ p





As she walked past the boys, her shoulders shook. But no sound came. And she went back to the place they had slept, and she kneeled. She gathered the rations scattered around her bag, putting them in one by one. A zipping sound emitted from her bag as she closed it. She kneeled for a few more seconds. A quiet, raspy voice came, after a while.

"we have to go"

It was obvious from how she was acting that Yuka was not alright. Sal desperately wanted to talk to her, maybe try to give her some comfort, but...not with Manuel watching. He'd have to get some time to talk to her privately.

For now though, it'd be best to just do as she said. He moved to his bag and slowly lifted it onto his shoulder.

"Alright."

That ... wasn't good. Okay, so that was a given that she'd react badly. No, this was especially bad.

"we have to go"

Right. They had to go. Somewhere. To blow off the steam that was coming, right? She was going to have to do it eventually, and if she did it now, well, maybe she wouldn't break when it mattered.

"Alright."

Manuel just nodded and got his bag. Sure. So long as they dealt with this before the inevitable shit went down.

In Yuka's hands was a pastel pink shirt. Cartoon bears dancing on it. It fit right in with the rest of her wardrobe. Yuko had given it to her eight days prior, for their birthday. They had had a dinner that day, at a high-class restaurant in DC, and at that dinner they had exchanged gifts. The gem necklace Yuki gave her was already around her neck.

She tried to play the memories of that day, of the trip in general. Smiles, hugs, she had eaten teriyaki that day, a case of football earrings and a letter handed over to Yuko—she would never see them again—and a fountain pen to Yuki, a selfie before the bus, smiles, hugs, she had eaten teriyaki that day, a case of football earrings, a fountain pen, a selfie before the bus, smi—where were the words

They had spoken to each other. The words were nice, grateful, and Yuko, when she received the earrings and the letter, said something like Thank you so much, Thank you, Thank you lots, I really appreciate this, I love you, Thanks, Thank you, Thank you so much,Thank you lots,I really appreciate this,I love you,I don't know how I'll pay you back,Thanksforeverything,Thankyousomuch,Thanks,Iloveyou,HowdidyougetthisIloveyouWheredidyoufindthisIloveyouWhereareyouIloveyouWhyarentyouhereIloveyouThanksWhyarentyouhere—

None of the words fit.

She didn't—

She didn't remember how her own sister sounded. She didn't even have a video to refresh her memory. Not even a photo.

She held the shirt close to her chest, pushed it against herself. Hugged it, embraced it for seconds. It felt solid, it felt real.

It was all she had now.

Her shoulders shook silently once more. She opened the bag again, placed her piece of Yuko on the side. Safe, tucked away. She closed the zipper, and held onto the gem necklace, grasped it for a few more seconds. She grasped it in her hand, held it so tight that her nails almost broke the skin of her palm. And then she let go, and started gathering her bags. After gathering her bags, she walked, not sparing a look towards the boys. If she looked at them, they would look at her. Look up to her. She didn't want them around anymore, but she didn't have the breath to say so. They would follow if they would follow. They would leave if they would leave.

((Yuka Hayashibara continues in now i can't stand to be alone))

Sal felt lost, utterly lost. How could he, who had never even had a pet die on him, comfort someone who had just lost one of the most important people in their lives? His head began to swim as he watched Yuka walk away, his stomach churning as he contemplated the pain his friend must be in.

After a moment of staring, he realized that if he didn't start moving, he'd be left behind. He quickened his pace and headed off after her.

((Sal Bonaventura continued elsewhere))

Yuka just stared at something. And then she zipped up her bag and left. It was in the shoulders. She was hurting. Now Manuel was going to have to be ... positive. He didn't do positive. He corrected people. He vocalized Murphy's Law. He was realistic. But ... but Yuka was his friend, and he always said that the reason he was so realistic all the time was so that things didn't go wrong. And now he and Sal were going to have to make it right.

((Manuel Figueroa continued in The Incredible Adventures of Butt Donkey))