The Girl by the Sea (Countryhumans AU)

Mabui

Written: February 2, 2024

I won't be putting TWs after this chapter because the theme of this book depends on sensitive topics.

After getting lectured by Japan not to strand her in random places, I lay in bed, pondering what is wrong with me. Habu Babu had been begging to play, but my energy was at an all-time low. The snake hissed softly as he coiled around my ankle.

With a sigh, I lower myself to the floor, allowing Habu Babu to slither freely. His scales glide smoothly against my skin, a tactile reassurance in the midst of emotional turbulence. The room transforms into a sanctuary, and I find solace in the simple act of being with my reptilian companion.

As the snake explores, curiosity guiding its sinuous movements, my thoughts wander through the corridors of my mind. The day's events replay like a filmstrip, each frame etched with moments of vulnerability, shared pain, and the overwhelming weight of expectations.

Habu Babu, sensing my contemplation, coils around my wrist, his presence a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken. In this quiet companionship, I begin to sift through the layers of my identity, like a seeker unraveling the threads of a complex tapestry.

The concept of mabui, the Okinawan belief in the spirit or soul, resonates deeply within me. It's a force that connects generations, an intangible thread that weaves through the fabric of our family history. I ponder the possibility of seeking a yuta, a spiritual guide, to explore the mysteries that linger in the interplay of past and present.

The decision to consult a yuta carries the weight of cultural significance, blending the ancient traditions of Okinawa with the contemporary struggles that shape my existence. I envision a journey into the realm of mabui, where the boundaries between the living and the departed blur, revealing insights that may hold the key to understanding my own place in this intricate tapestry.

As Habu Babu slithers affectionately around my fingers, I make a silent vow to confront the shadows within and embark on a quest for self-discovery. The room, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, becomes a haven for introspection, and with each passing moment, the boundaries between the tangible and the spiritual blur, setting the stage for an evening yet to unfold.

"Kimi wa yasashii hebi desu." I croak, stroking Habu Babu. Habu Babu hisses contently in response. I keep conversing with the snake in Japanese, knowing well that he can't respond.

I continue to converse with the snake in Japanese, finding a peculiar comfort in the one-sided exchange.

"Why do you think everything feels so heavy lately?" I mutter, more to myself than to the snake. Habu Babu remains a silent listener, his scales cool against my touch.

"Sometimes, I wish I could understand what you're thinking," I confess, a hint of desperation in my voice. The snake remains unresponsive, yet the act of sharing my thoughts with a non-judgmental companion provides a strange sense of relief.

As I delve into the complexities of my emotions, I find a peculiar camaraderie in this dialogue with a serpent. The room becomes a sanctuary of vulnerability, where words, even if unheard by human ears, carry the weight of unspoken truths.

"Maybe I should have stayed at the mental health clinic," I ponder aloud. The snake seems to tighten its coil, as if sensing the conflict within me.

"But how can I face those questions, those probing stares?" I question, seeking solace in the silent presence of my reptilian confidant.

In the absence of answers, I continue to converse with Habu Babu, the room enveloped in the hushed tones of a one-sided conversation. "I don't think I've lost my mabui yet, Habu Babu." I trace the edges of the ceiling with my eyes. "I'm still always asking questions and starting pointless conversations with people." I sigh, looking at the snake's beady eyes. "It's like I have someone else's mabui on me."