Ginia blinks at her coworker through her tears, on the cusp of shaking her head 'no' before she throws on a reflexive smile, locks her computer, grabs her purse, and flees toward the nearest bathroom, too fast for anyone to stop. Her makeup isn't smudged - Natsumi's brand suggestions are never wrong - but Ginia feels the urge to strip all her makeup off and start anew.
If only life were as simple. If only bringing a soul into a shell was enough. If only stripping away memories and leaving the rest behind was enough. If only.
If only.
But it isn't because they're trying to fit into a system that cannot bend enough to make space for them. That they come in with their bodies, names already remembered and given, soul brought into the shell of flesh by their own being is already an insult to the system, a system that insists it is a god who brings a shinki to form, names them and turns them whole. A system that insists a shinki serves one god, without question, without fail, to serve as a moral compass and yet... Ginia's heard the stories from her coworkers. Of gods who released their shinki after the very first sting. Who demanded complete obedience and cast off anyone that did not meet their standards. It's a system that praises the strength of a god for having so many shinki while damning a shinki for serving more than one god.
Shizuki. Shuuki. Saki. Ritsuki. Hatsuki.
Migaku. Jitsumi. Hanatsu.
Ginia.
So many names for one person. She is Ginia, for better or worse. Whatever worth she has can only be found by herself. Her own damned, broken self, but even she recognizes it's not the most charitable thought.
What do you want? What is your true desire?
What does she want? Ginia grips the counter and leans on it, exhaling slowly. Is figuring that out the secret to understanding herself? Of coming to peace with everything?
Things change. The world is in a constant state of flux, sometimes in increasingly fast ways, other times in slower ways. What she wanted in her first month is different from what she wants now. But things flow so much slower in Takamagahara, where what is and will be is near unchanging.
They are opposing clocks, running against each other, threatening the system and everything around them.
It is change. It's not necessarily a bad thing. Growth and reconstruction can come out of it, assuming there's anyone left to rebuild.
Ginia wipes away her tears, touches up her makeup, fixes her hair and her clothes. Her coworkers aren't so obvious to hover directly outside the bathroom door, but if someone happens to be checking their text messages a few feet away, if a few people have moved to the empty desks surrounding her cubicle just because...Ginia manages a truer smile at the slight shift in things. They care. Mi. Many. They are a temple, a family, they have to watch out for each other when no one else will.]
Someone once suggested with how easily our generation can change between roles, that perhaps the differences between god and shinki are slight. There are other things that support that idea. But there is no denying we are so different from the old generation and trying to work within their rules is not a system that works for us.
I knew a shinki that died and returned a god. Speaking to her after, she was relieved to be a god, that being a shinki was a curse she was glad to be freed from. I think there are some people better suited as god than shinki. I think there are some people better suited as shinki than god. This is not a judgment or indictment on anyone. But it's possible this system has... missorted people. Or perhaps people cannot be so easily categorized.
That is perhaps the greatest difference of our generation. We are still deeply rooted in our humanity, gods and shinki. We are not of this world and cannot fit into its mold.
Survive for no sake than your own, Waver, for whatever method it might take. You have my support, however I can give it. You deserves answers. You deserve better.
[And if you die, may you find peace in dying as yourself.]
If you find whoever created this system, let me know. I'm eager to throw a punch or two myself.
no subject
Ginia blinks at her coworker through her tears, on the cusp of shaking her head 'no' before she throws on a reflexive smile, locks her computer, grabs her purse, and flees toward the nearest bathroom, too fast for anyone to stop. Her makeup isn't smudged - Natsumi's brand suggestions are never wrong - but Ginia feels the urge to strip all her makeup off and start anew.
If only life were as simple. If only bringing a soul into a shell was enough. If only stripping away memories and leaving the rest behind was enough. If only.
If only.
But it isn't because they're trying to fit into a system that cannot bend enough to make space for them. That they come in with their bodies, names already remembered and given, soul brought into the shell of flesh by their own being is already an insult to the system, a system that insists it is a god who brings a shinki to form, names them and turns them whole. A system that insists a shinki serves one god, without question, without fail, to serve as a moral compass and yet... Ginia's heard the stories from her coworkers. Of gods who released their shinki after the very first sting. Who demanded complete obedience and cast off anyone that did not meet their standards. It's a system that praises the strength of a god for having so many shinki while damning a shinki for serving more than one god.
Shizuki. Shuuki. Saki. Ritsuki. Hatsuki.
Migaku. Jitsumi. Hanatsu.
Ginia.
So many names for one person. She is Ginia, for better or worse. Whatever worth she has can only be found by herself. Her own damned, broken self, but even she recognizes it's not the most charitable thought.
What do you want? What is your true desire?
What does she want? Ginia grips the counter and leans on it, exhaling slowly. Is figuring that out the secret to understanding herself? Of coming to peace with everything?
Things change. The world is in a constant state of flux, sometimes in increasingly fast ways, other times in slower ways. What she wanted in her first month is different from what she wants now. But things flow so much slower in Takamagahara, where what is and will be is near unchanging.
They are opposing clocks, running against each other, threatening the system and everything around them.
It is change. It's not necessarily a bad thing. Growth and reconstruction can come out of it, assuming there's anyone left to rebuild.
Ginia wipes away her tears, touches up her makeup, fixes her hair and her clothes. Her coworkers aren't so obvious to hover directly outside the bathroom door, but if someone happens to be checking their text messages a few feet away, if a few people have moved to the empty desks surrounding her cubicle just because...Ginia manages a truer smile at the slight shift in things. They care. Mi. Many. They are a temple, a family, they have to watch out for each other when no one else will.]
Someone once suggested with how easily our generation can change between roles, that perhaps the differences between god and shinki are slight. There are other things that support that idea. But there is no denying we are so different from the old generation and trying to work within their rules is not a system that works for us.
I knew a shinki that died and returned a god. Speaking to her after, she was relieved to be a god, that being a shinki was a curse she was glad to be freed from. I think there are some people better suited as god than shinki. I think there are some people better suited as shinki than god. This is not a judgment or indictment on anyone. But it's possible this system has... missorted people. Or perhaps people cannot be so easily categorized.
That is perhaps the greatest difference of our generation. We are still deeply rooted in our humanity, gods and shinki. We are not of this world and cannot fit into its mold.
Survive for no sake than your own, Waver, for whatever method it might take. You have my support, however I can give it. You deserves answers. You deserve better.
[And if you die, may you find peace in dying as yourself.]
If you find whoever created this system, let me know. I'm eager to throw a punch or two myself.