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sewersaga · 2 years ago

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PROLOGUE: THE SAKURA SMILES

PAIRING: okkotsu yuta x reader

IN WHICH: Avoidance is your mother tongue. Born in Tokyo to a Japanese mother and Kenyan father, you were unable to see your homeland the same after your mother’s tragic and mysterious death. Out of all people, an awkward Japanese boy that your uncle dragged back with him teaches you to embrace rather than evade, but your family secrets run deep. Returning to Japan promises a shitshow, but you’ve learned there are many reasons to make it worthwhile, and most importantly, you’ve learned that what you don’t know can hurt you. In fact, what you don’t know has placed a bounty on your head.

WARNING: i am not kenyan!! please take this fic with a grain of salt, but don't be afraid to (nicely) correct me on the likely inaccuracies! im vv open to feedback! i am also not white! if you want to insult me for my stupidity, take into account that i am part black ok thanks.

You love your country.

You love the rolling skyline of Nairobi, and you love the duality of the animals roaming on the savanna just outside of the city. You love walking the streets with your uncle as the vendors call out to you, offering the tastiest samosas on this side of the continent. You love your neighborhood, and you love your little house with its rusty orangey-red roof. You even love the unexpected house guests that your uncle drags in occasionally.

You loved your father. More than anything. The main thing you remember about him was that he was large. Whenever you were afraid, he would take you in his arms and you’d feel like nothing could hurt you. Not even the things that would jump out at you on the street that no one else seemed to be able to see, the things that would whisper and beg you for help. You’d cry out, and bury your face into your Baba’s chest, and everything would be alright again.

Then, he was gone, with little explanation, and little closure. You were thirteen, and quickly pawned off onto your uncle. He was a good guy, but he was no Baba. Your Uncle Miguel knew everything about everything. Around the same size as your father, he could easily intimidate anyone who challenged him, or god forbid, you. But he didn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a grieving teenage girl.

Your mother passed away when you were only five. You don’t remember much about her, but the stories stuck with you for ages. Back then, your family wasn’t living in Nairobi. Tokyo was where you called home, Mama, Baba, Uncle Miguel, and you. That’s where you were born, and the four of you lived like a happy family. Mama would read you stories, and take you for walks, and to the zoo, and to the park, and Baba and Uncle Miguel would tend to their business.

But Mama got sick, and her decline was quick, her condition traveling an elusive downward slope. There were hushed conversations between Baba and your Uncle, puzzled doctors, and days spent curled in her side in an uncomfortable hospital bed. You remember the warmth as her gaunt hand curled around your smaller one, and the quiet beeps of the machines she was hooked up to, as if all the wires would somehow be able to tell the doctors what was going on.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t anything that was discernible to the average man. You sat at the hospital window, watching as the sakura tree outside the window shed its blossoms. Mama slept in the bed behind you, her face pale, cheekbones sunken in. Soon you’d be starting kindergarten, and you decided not to tell anyone about the clump of monsters reminiscent of a school of fish that swam around just below the blossoming tree.

While Mama quietly wasted away, you spent your days in front of the window, watching the clustered creatures for any sort of changes. They never moved, gargling unintelligibly at passersby who obviously didn’t hear them. For a time, you were never exactly sure if what you were seeing was real. You’d been told you had an overactive imagination, especially by Baba and Uncle Miguel. But the sight was so vivid. You’d seen things like it before, but never this close. You wanted to approach the monsters, to see if they’d scatter once they knew someone was aware of their presence.

Early summer came, bringing with it your chance to investigate your current obsession. Mama seemed to be getting better, eating more, sleeping less, helping you learn the kanji for your name as well as the Swahili. Since Mama had been so active, you’d had little opportunity to take to your favorite pastime in front of the window. Finally, after a lot of repeating and coaxing your small hand to hold the pencil correctly, she dozed off. You climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake her with the absence of your weight as you approached the window. To your surprise, the clump of monsters was not alone today. Near it stood a little boy close to your own age.

You weren’t sure if he was in trouble, but he seemed to be looking directly at it. Surely that meant he could see it as well? You weren’t sure, and you had to find out.

After skillfully evading the doctors and escaping the hospital, you found your way to the sakura tree just outside Mama’s window, one that now sported luscious green leaves on its branches rather than the blossoms that came with springtime. As you got closer to the creepy thing, you became aware of a voice shouting, and the boy that you had seen earlier.

He was gesturing wildly at the thing. You weren’t sure if he was simply ignoring the odd stares from passersby, or if he was so consumed in his one-sided standoff with this monster that he didn’t even notice that they couldn’t see it. Either way, he seemed convinced that childish threats of violence would get it to move from its home beneath the tree. He was truly idiotic. You decided you had to let him know.

“Hey. What do you think you’re doing?” The boy’s gaze snapped over to you at your exclamation, tirade quickly coming to an end. His brows furrowed, and you worried for a moment that his anger would now be directed at you.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to get this abomination to go away and stop scaring people.” His tone was cool, a sharp contrast to his outburst just moments earlier. You weren’t sure what the word abomination meant, but it sure made him sound smart. Maybe you were outclassed here? You quickly shook off the thought, standing your ground.

“It’s not even that scary,” Your response isn’t a complete lie. It’s more off-putting than scary. And the closer you get, the grosser it looks. The gurgling noises it seems to be so fond of also aren’t exactly appetizing. “So why are you yelling?”

“I’m not saying I think it’s scary,” He clearly didn’t want you getting the wrong idea. You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing. The kid was scrawny, no matter the tough-guy image he was obviously trying to exude. “But others obviously do. They keep coming over here and running away because it looks so icky,” He stuck his tongue out to punctuate the last statement, an exaggerated shudder wracking his small body. “So, you gonna run away now,too, scaredy-cat?”

“Why would I run away? I already came over here,” God, he was annoying, with that presumptuous attitude. You weren’t afraid. You just didn’t want to be around that thing for longer than you had to. It was perfectly reasonable. “Plus, maybe people are running away because you’re shouting for no reason. Look at them. Do you think they can even see it?” You gestured to the people going about their day behind the scene he’d created, and lo and behold, now that things had reasonably cooled down, not a single eye was batted at the “abombernation,” or whatever word he’d used.

“Maybe you’re right.” He spoke, his mouth twisting in a silent concession. You hated that he acted so disappointed that you had the upper hand.

“Of course I’m right. Because I know lots, and you’re just an idiot boy who uses big words he doesn’t know the meaning of.” You crossed your arms over your chest with a small hmmph. He scoffed, quickly scrambling for words.

“What? I read the dictionary all the time. I know big words because I’m smart. You couldn’t dream of knowing as much fancy words as me. Are you even Japanese?” He pointed at you with the last statement, seeming content to leave it there until something seemed to sink in and his cheeks flushed. “Plus, who do you think you’re calling a boy?”

You were about to respond until it was your turn to have a realization. “Are you… not a boy?” Though when you thought twice, he really did have delicate features. You’d never seen a boy with eyes like that, and you had been wondering why he’d chosen a My Melody bandaid for a small scrape on his knee.

“No! I’m a girl! You can ask my parents. Unless you want proof.” You visibly balked at her final comment. You’d never before met anyone your age who made comments like that.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You paused, remembering one more thing you wanted to clear up. And by the way, I’m half Japanese. Remember it next time you wanna make fun of me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” She ran a hand through her short hair sheepishly. “Yagami Rize. Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“Whatever. And I guess I’m sorry too. I didn’t know you were a girl,” You hold out your hand for her to shake. She looks at it with an indiscernible look in her eyes before taking it and gently shaking. “[Name Kariuki].”

“Kariuki?” Her hand goes limp in yours, but neither of you lets go as she tilts her head in mild curiosity.”

“It’s Kenyan. My Baba is from there, and it’s the best country ever.” She drops your hand as her face lights up with visible excitement.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Kenya! Have you ever seen a giraffe or a zebra?” You wondered if Yagami Rize had noticed that she was jumping up and down a little. Honestly, you suppressed the urge to react the same way at the mention of the awesome animals. But, something made you hesitate.

“I haven’t really been there before. But Baba promises to take me soon, as soon as Mama is better.” You admitted, afraid of disappointing your new friend with the truth. But she simply shrugged.

“I guess we’re in the same boat then. Just make sure to send me lots of pictures when you do go,” She smiled. “I’d better go now.” She began to leave nonchalantly. You were about to do the same when a suppressed gurgle reminded you of the reason for your meeting a new friend.

“Wait!” You called after her. “What are we going to do about that thing?”

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment. “What else can we do? Yelling didn’t work. Obviously it’s meant to stay there until someone bigger drives it away.” Her words were confident, haughty, and definitive. But coming from her mouth, it was less annoying than it was reassuring. It reminded you of the self-assured way your Uncle Miguel spoke.

“I guess you’re right.” You sighed. And it was the truth, because what were two kids to do against something that adults couldn’t even see? It was frustrating, but at least there would be no break in your window gazing routine.

“See ya then, Kariuki. Lemme know when you see a zebra.” Rize sent you a lazy wave, before she was on her way. You gave the creature one final look tinted with childish animosity before deciding to head back into the hospital. You wanted to tell Mama about your new, smart friend.

When you came back into the room, Mama was still. She looked like she was napping, but something was different. Her hand was cold. Fear gripping your chest, you called for a nurse.

Mama had the sheets pulled up over her face, but her hands were still free. They were just as cold as they were earlier. You pried her rigid fingers apart, forcing a pencil between them. “Please, Mama. Show me how to write my name again.”

At the funeral, you sat outside on the ground, dirtying your new clothes. You traced your name in the dirt with your finger, over and over again. [Name] Kariuki, [Name] Kariuki. Distant, resurrected. Mama was far away and she wasn’t coming back. You were learning Swahili. There was talk about Uncle Miguel moving back to Kenya, and he wanted you and Baba to go with him. You were just a child. What were you to do against the will of two adults? You spread the smooth, summery soil over the grooves of your name, and went back to where everyone else was gathered.

#yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #rd #resurrection's daughter #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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foolsocracy · 7 months ago

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Now having watched Frankenstein (1931) I find this really interesting. I didn't really expect the writers themselves to have watched the film; I assumed they saw it was a horror film released in Pete's time and included it with the bonus that the audience would know the story because its Frankenstein. It really aligns with the themes of spider noir though, so I'm second guessing myself.

I read Frankenstein a while back so I'm not as familiar with it as I once was, but I'd say its generous to say the movie is based off of the original novel. It hits some of the points but it really is different. I mean, in the film its Henry Frankenstein, not even Victor.

In the film, the monster is played almost-infantile. He reaches out towards light as if he could grab it. He plays with a little girl by a lake, throwing in flowers to watch them float like boats. When he kills her, it's an accident. How could he have known that she wouldn't float along with the flowers? Its Frankenstein and his assistant who are portrayed as monstrous. They lock him in the dark for three days. The intimidate him with fire and whips and fists.

Despite this, its Frankenstein who gets the 'good end,' while the monster is left to burn alive, pinned inside a wooden mill set alight by the townspeople.

Pete could have gotten nightmares from a number of scenes. Although I wouldn't personally say this is a scary film, there are definitely unnerving parts. There was also a different standard in 1931 for what was scary in film, plus Pete was already living a hard life at such a young age when he saw it.

Based on the panels themselves it is clear that Pete was scared of the monster itself (which is fair, the make up and costuming wanted him to be frightening). "I expected him to tell me there's no such thing as monsters," because no one in real life is a resurrected, looming... once-man-now-creature. (Just you wait, Peter). It's a more juvenile read of the film but Pete is a kid. Ben though, is a veteran, a socialist, has been around the block. He has the sense to analyze the film and interpret it differently. It is the men who find themselves with a capacity for senseless cruelty that are the monsters. That is exactly what the noir comics are about.

I really like that it's clear that Uncle Ben knows what Peter is about to learn. It also shows how much Pete has changed, just within the 1-2 years since he'd seen Frankenstein.

#i watched it so u dont have to guys #peter: scared of a resurrected man who is feared by people for his perceived evil and violence #thats you bud. im sorry #and if you're curious on what i think would give him nightmares:#the monster screaming and wailing as he burned in the mill #obviously #there was a long shot of a shell-shocked father carrying his dead daughter through town. knowing it was probably the actual little girl --#-- and not a prop had me WORRYING for her lowkey. her limbs were swinging and her head was bobbing around completely unsupported omfg #also the hounds that they used? their baying with the mic quality was ough. they sounded like they were wailing too #peter benjamin parker #ben parker #spider noir #spiderman noir #spider man noir #marvel #just read this back and i feel like i didnt say much but ill post anyway #someone must share with the people

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