rinoahyuna (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rinoahyuna) wrote2020-04-15 11:13 am
rinoahyuna) wrote2020-04-15 11:13 am
Entry tags:
{051} I'll say hello, soon
People of the past
Ohno/Nino, PG, 952 words
Ohmiya Drabble Collection, part 27
Also in AO3
The only definite thing he knew about his past was the day he was born.
And this wasn’t simply because of the fact that the date seemed like it had been time-stamped onto his skin, the numbers tattooed across the inside of his left middle finger like some kind of code - 6.17.1983 - dark and visible to only a handful of people, people like him who weren’t from this world, but from another.
Nino knew too little of the family he’d been born from, just their names and their previous occupations, their last known location, and nothing more. This world had only too little information about their existence, more so of their eventual disappearance sometime after he was born.
There weren’t much knowledge to begin with, not even about why they were brought in here in the first place, but just those little snippets of the outrageous ‘hows’, and the few, equally outrageous ones they could eventually managed to squeeze out of the man who brought them here that made little to no sense in the end.
Johnny Kitagawa claimed of having this weird ability to time travel, into the past, future, and into several worlds and universes of the same timeline, claiming he’d been doing it to, well, save kids from being murdered at birth by taking them back with him here, to Johnny-san’s own world, and bringing them up like they were his own.
There were three of them that came from three different world versions of 1983 - he, Ninomiya Kazunari, Aiba Masaki, and Matsumoto Jun - or so Johnny-san claimed. None of them knew, however, if this pieces of information were true or if it was just plain bullshit, at least back then when they were younger, since they have no way of confirming the validity of said statement all by themselves. The old man even spoke of bizarre things like powers and abilities manifesting later on, and for someone who viewed this world as an equally-bizarre and cruel place to be stuck on, thought the older man was nothing but a self-righteous lunatic.
Until the day he turned twenty-two and realized he’d not only manifested one, but three unique abilities in the span of a whole week, half a year after Aiba, and just a few months ahead of Jun.
That’s exactly when he started hearing someone else’s voice in his head as well.
*
“I seriously don’t get his weird fixation on lip creams,” Nino said, conversationally, swinging his index finger lazily and barely paying attention to the way the cleaning cloth was moving across the counter, wiping it clean despite being distracted.
“Like, he kept on muttering about this and that flavor, which one moisturizes his lips better and all that crap, it’s so weird.” he muttered, shaking his head.
“And newspapers. Like, is he even for real?”
“He reads?” asked Jun from his perch on one of the stools there, briefly taking his attention away from whatever stuff he was doing on his laptop to raise an inquiring eyebrow at Nino. Nino snickered, crinkled his nose at Jun’s obvious teasing.
It was one thing, admitting he could hear another person talking in his head - stranger - and another to be able to tell his closest friends and know that they wouldn’t outright suspect him of finally losing the few remaining working screws in his head, despite the fact that it already felt like he did, the second he admitted to himself that that other voice he’d kept hearing in his head belonged to another person entirely.
“Beats me,” he shrugged. “He mostly talks about the column write-ups about fishing, though, and occasionally about stocks and currency, so I really have no idea.” He couldn’t really tell exactly what’s going on, at least not if he was going to base his hypothesis on the mostly one-sided conversation he’d got going with the stranger mumbling away in his head.
He couldn’t really classify it as one, but maybe more like unfiltered thoughts with a voice. There weren’t much sense to the words being spoken, not then when he first heard it at twenty-two, and he was most certain that was still the case now. After all, grunting about currency hitting rock bottom being the only thing appearing on each newspaper’s front pages these days wasn’t all that enlightening.
For all Nino knew, the voice belonged to a distressed banker with an attitude.
“He’s grunting about them all week. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”
“Wow, that’s new,” Jun commented, thoughtfully.
“What is?”
Jun swiveled his chair around and properly looked at him. “That reaction,” Jun lamented, “I thought you’re used to it by now, seeing that it’s been more than ten years. What happened?”
He shrugged. Then stilled when his wrist suddenly felt warm, warmer than usual, at least; he twisted his marked hand, the cleaning cloth falling from his grip, eyes widening in shock.
“Nino? What is it?” Jun prompted, migrating next to Nino the second later.
Nino vaguely heard him. He was still staring hard at the glowing numbers stamped on his skin, twitching at that unusual buzz sizzling across the back of his neck. His heart thudded in his chest, his throat dry, his senses hyperaware of anything and everything all at once.
He shut his eyes closed for a moment and felt more than heard the resounding footsteps from far away.
“He’s near,” he murmured, blinking the sunspots away as his gaze drifted towards the doorway. “He’s coming.”
“Who? Who’s coming?” Jun countered, worried.
Nino pointed at his temple and briefly wondered why he was grinning. “Lip cream guy is coming, J. I can feel it. I can feel him.”
“What?!”
Ohno/Nino, PG, 952 words
Ohmiya Drabble Collection, part 27
Also in AO3
The only definite thing he knew about his past was the day he was born.
And this wasn’t simply because of the fact that the date seemed like it had been time-stamped onto his skin, the numbers tattooed across the inside of his left middle finger like some kind of code - 6.17.1983 - dark and visible to only a handful of people, people like him who weren’t from this world, but from another.
Nino knew too little of the family he’d been born from, just their names and their previous occupations, their last known location, and nothing more. This world had only too little information about their existence, more so of their eventual disappearance sometime after he was born.
There weren’t much knowledge to begin with, not even about why they were brought in here in the first place, but just those little snippets of the outrageous ‘hows’, and the few, equally outrageous ones they could eventually managed to squeeze out of the man who brought them here that made little to no sense in the end.
Johnny Kitagawa claimed of having this weird ability to time travel, into the past, future, and into several worlds and universes of the same timeline, claiming he’d been doing it to, well, save kids from being murdered at birth by taking them back with him here, to Johnny-san’s own world, and bringing them up like they were his own.
There were three of them that came from three different world versions of 1983 - he, Ninomiya Kazunari, Aiba Masaki, and Matsumoto Jun - or so Johnny-san claimed. None of them knew, however, if this pieces of information were true or if it was just plain bullshit, at least back then when they were younger, since they have no way of confirming the validity of said statement all by themselves. The old man even spoke of bizarre things like powers and abilities manifesting later on, and for someone who viewed this world as an equally-bizarre and cruel place to be stuck on, thought the older man was nothing but a self-righteous lunatic.
Until the day he turned twenty-two and realized he’d not only manifested one, but three unique abilities in the span of a whole week, half a year after Aiba, and just a few months ahead of Jun.
That’s exactly when he started hearing someone else’s voice in his head as well.
*
“I seriously don’t get his weird fixation on lip creams,” Nino said, conversationally, swinging his index finger lazily and barely paying attention to the way the cleaning cloth was moving across the counter, wiping it clean despite being distracted.
“Like, he kept on muttering about this and that flavor, which one moisturizes his lips better and all that crap, it’s so weird.” he muttered, shaking his head.
“And newspapers. Like, is he even for real?”
“He reads?” asked Jun from his perch on one of the stools there, briefly taking his attention away from whatever stuff he was doing on his laptop to raise an inquiring eyebrow at Nino. Nino snickered, crinkled his nose at Jun’s obvious teasing.
It was one thing, admitting he could hear another person talking in his head - stranger - and another to be able to tell his closest friends and know that they wouldn’t outright suspect him of finally losing the few remaining working screws in his head, despite the fact that it already felt like he did, the second he admitted to himself that that other voice he’d kept hearing in his head belonged to another person entirely.
“Beats me,” he shrugged. “He mostly talks about the column write-ups about fishing, though, and occasionally about stocks and currency, so I really have no idea.” He couldn’t really tell exactly what’s going on, at least not if he was going to base his hypothesis on the mostly one-sided conversation he’d got going with the stranger mumbling away in his head.
He couldn’t really classify it as one, but maybe more like unfiltered thoughts with a voice. There weren’t much sense to the words being spoken, not then when he first heard it at twenty-two, and he was most certain that was still the case now. After all, grunting about currency hitting rock bottom being the only thing appearing on each newspaper’s front pages these days wasn’t all that enlightening.
For all Nino knew, the voice belonged to a distressed banker with an attitude.
“He’s grunting about them all week. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”
“Wow, that’s new,” Jun commented, thoughtfully.
“What is?”
Jun swiveled his chair around and properly looked at him. “That reaction,” Jun lamented, “I thought you’re used to it by now, seeing that it’s been more than ten years. What happened?”
He shrugged. Then stilled when his wrist suddenly felt warm, warmer than usual, at least; he twisted his marked hand, the cleaning cloth falling from his grip, eyes widening in shock.
“Nino? What is it?” Jun prompted, migrating next to Nino the second later.
Nino vaguely heard him. He was still staring hard at the glowing numbers stamped on his skin, twitching at that unusual buzz sizzling across the back of his neck. His heart thudded in his chest, his throat dry, his senses hyperaware of anything and everything all at once.
He shut his eyes closed for a moment and felt more than heard the resounding footsteps from far away.
“He’s near,” he murmured, blinking the sunspots away as his gaze drifted towards the doorway. “He’s coming.”
“Who? Who’s coming?” Jun countered, worried.
Nino pointed at his temple and briefly wondered why he was grinning. “Lip cream guy is coming, J. I can feel it. I can feel him.”
“What?!”