PhiloPhilosoPhilosophy
patreon
Strange Samsara of Migrant Myth Chapter 2(Touhou/Worm Crossover) DEFUNCT
🕑 Added 2022-07-08 17:00:06 +0000 UTCSurvival of the fittest.
Most adults didn’t like to admit it, but that’s how it went in life. They knew it, capes knew it, everybody knew it. Everybody liked to dress it up nice-like, but at the end of the day, the strong imposed their will.
Which was why Emma took it upon herself to keep the order. It was the duty of the strong to keep the filth in line, and since every single adult in Winslow was useless detritus, order fell onto the students themselves.
Also, the school was weak for refusing to acknowledge the existence of a Disciplinary Committee, but Emma had learned from Auntie Anne that sometimes one just had to make your own protection. Kind of like how Lustrum’s Luster gang protected the queers, but with less castration. Or more. Emma really hated Nazis.
Filth pretending to be pure was the worst hypocrisy.
As she patrolled through the halls of Winslow after school, Emma would admit that much of her current worldview had been colored by her friend, Sophia Hess, walking to her right.
Tall, athletic, the black girl was technically part of the track team, but she was really a part of the Wards, the cape known as Shadowstalker. A bit too brutal at times, Emma trusted her to have her back in combat.
She had saved Emma’s family once, on a night where Emma had been outnumbered by filth. Emma’s father had helped her in return, saving her from juvenile detention. By all rights, the accounts had been even, but Sophia was a good compliment to her methods and her goals in cleaning up the school.
On her left walked Madison Clements. Emma didn’t know much about her. She was cute enough, useful to get teachers to back off, but other than that, she wasn’t really anything of note. She hadn’t run yet in a fight, but Emma fully expected her to at some point.
She wouldn’t blame her if she did run though. She wasn’t strong. She was to be protected. Besides, she was cute. Like a little bunny.
There were other hangerons, drifting in and out, but this was her group. Her little coterie. Her Guards for keeping the peace.
The end of the school day was here and already the teachers were actively being useless, staying inside their classrooms, purposefully looking away from acts of violence.
Naturally, it fell to the Guards to save the little blond boy surrounded by ABB gangers. Typical, those lacking in strength used numbers to intimidate those weaker. Weakness of the body stacked upon weakness of the spirit drew filth together.
Mindful of her manners, Emma warned, “You should disperse. School is over. Go to your clubs or go home.”
Typical of gangers, they had the stupidity to turn and challenge her.
“It’s the Redhaired Bitch!”
“Fuck! Positions everyone!”
“ABB fucks bitches like you.”
Crass, but that was to be expected. Still, punishments were to be dished out. Mentally claiming the four on the wall for herself, Emma left the three surrounding the blond boy for Sophia to take care of. Madison would… probably find something to do. She was good like that.
The rest of the guard would act as a wall to keep the teachers from interfering. They were good like that.
As she grabbed the red neckerchief of the first ABB boy to pull down into her knee, Emma wished she had her bokken. Unfortunately, that was considered a ‘weapon’ by the school which, fucking seriously? Everybody knew Winslow was just the frontlines for the proxy war between the gangs. It felt like she had gotten rid of more gun staches hidden around the school than drugs.
Stepping back out of the range of the shiv of the second boy, she brought her other leg up in a small snapkick that hit his chin, rattling his brain. Bringing that foot down, Emma pivoted to send the other foot back to hit the dazed boy’s stomach, launching him backwards into the third boy.
The panicked haymaker of the fourth boy was almost insulting. Catching it with a crossarm block, a quick twist had the idiot kneeling down to prevent his arm from dislocating. A deep breath in and out to calm down from that exhilarating high, Emma tossed her hair back and sighed, “You know the rules. Why do you insist on breaking them? I’m not asking for much here, just nice and clean order.”
“Just you wait, bitch,” the boy wheezed in pained defiance, “We’ll give you more scars to even out the eyes!”
Emma didn’t care about her looks. She had gotten her fair share of scars from sparring and the various kendo tournaments; what was a scar on the brow to that? No matter how much her mother and sister mourned the fact that she wouldn’t be a model like them, Emma didn’t care about traditional beauty.
That being said, the fact that this idiot had the gall to threaten with scars? Referencing the only one she was ashamed of? The scar that represented her being so weak to fall to sheer fucking numbers? Of failing to protect her family?
Well, strength seemed to be the only thing fools understood and pain was the best way to teach that.
Before Emma could bring her fist down though, she found it stopped with a familiar grip.
“Stop this, Emma,” a voice ordered.
Emma rolled her eyes. Trust Taylor to stop her before the good bit.
“Stay out of this, Taylor,” Emma scowled, not bothering to try and escape the grip.
“No,” her former friend refused, “You’re taking things too far.”
“How?” Emma snapped.
These guys were ABB recruits. Scum that twisted the honor and beauty of the cultures of the Orient to be monsters. They spat in the face of everything that Aunt Anne had loved about Japan, perverted the martial arts that Sensei taught, and represented everything shitty that piss-dragon Lung had brought into the ABB.
If anything, she wasn’t taking it far enough. None of the idiots had learned their lesson. They needed to be stopped here before they grew up to be worse. With the recent losses the ABB had taken, recruitment would be a priority and they needed to learn that would not be allowed in Winslow. They had to--
Sighing, Taylor idly pointed out, “You’re about to break his arm.”
Looking down, Emma found that, yes, the idiot’s arm was creaking most pleasantly. At the pained yet hopeful gaze of the ABB’s eyes, Emma had the intense and rage-filled urge to just snap the arm. That’d just prove Taylor right about the lack of control though, and Emma refused to allow that to happen.
Letting the arm drop, Emma punched him in the kidneys as a warning before turning to Taylor with a hiss, “Happy?”
Gazing down at the moaning ABB idiot, Taylor's grip loosened so she could cross her arms, “No.”
Turning around to face her, Emma hated that she had to crane her head to look up at Taylor. Wearing a red vest and tying her hair with a red ribbon, Taylor was slender and poised, holding herself with the elegance of an angry deer, ready to defend at any moment.
This was her childhood friend. Former, that is. Softer but not weaker, Emma held a grudging respect for her. Where Emma actively worked with others to keep things clean, Taylor just… floated through Winslow. She was no bystander. When she saw something wrong, she would fix it, but she was just content to float through life.
…How Emma hated her. Her and her detachment.
“Hebert, still acting as a goodie two shoes?” Sophia said, clapping her hands together. A quick glance showed that she had finished with her three. Good. What wasn’t as good was her constant need to fight Taylor.
Sophia had challenged Taylor once when Taylor had checked up on Emma when she came back from camp last year. Despite herself, Emma had to fight back a smile at the memory. In her bluster, Sophia had thought Taylor weak and threw out a warning punch. The face she had when she was pinned was… a fond one.
She frowned as she remembered the discussion after. That was when the schism had begun between Taylor and her. Pity. Taylor would have been helpful in cleaning up Winslow. They both agreed things needed to change, just not… how.
Raising an eyebrow, Taylor returned, “Hess, still fangirling for Kipling?””
“What the fuck does that mean?” Sophia growled.
Emma resisted the urge to rub her temples. It’d undermine Sophia’s position, but she really wished that Sophia would stop trying to pick a fight with Taylor. Taylor had been raised by the Head of the Dockworker’s Association and a Professor of Folklore. She knew how to argue and insult on so many levels; low and high, vulgar and proper, in the styles traditional and the styles violent.
“Oh, apologies,” Taylor sighed dramatically with a roll of the eyes, “I forgot you can’t read. I’d explain why Kipling’s little white-boy fantasy of survival-of-the-fittest is wrong, but I don’t have the time or patience to teach you. Simply put, I’m calling out your stupid predator/prey philosophy.”
Case in point. If she wasn’t in a cold war with Taylor, Emma would’ve complimented on the neatly packed 3-in-1 insult she’d just played. As it was, Emma had to grab Sophia’s shoulder to stop her from launching forward.
Blowing a lock from her face, Emma said, “You’re strong, Taylor. You can join us. Keep this school safe. Clean out the filth here.”
“And be a trio of bitches like you?” Taylor refused, “Ignoring the fact I despise Kipling… Emma. This isn’t strength. Whatever you want, what you’re doing now, it’s not strength. It’s not protecting. It’s just lashing out.”
Somehow, the calm, pleading tone she said boiled Emma’s blood.
“How could you know?” Emma hissed, “You’ve always been strong, just floating in life! You’ve never known what it’s like to be weak,” Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and pointed at the would-be victim, “And look! I did save him!”
“You did?” the victim asked, surprised to be remembered. To be honest, Emma had forgotten he existed, but she didn’t want Taylor to know that. A quick glare, and he nodded frantically, “I mean, yes. I feel very saved. Totes saved. I am feeling the safest I have ever been.”
“...Maybe,” Taylor raised an eyebrow as the visibly shaking boy, “but is that the reason you’re doing this or an excuse?””
…This is why Emma hated Taylor. Always so… reasonable, so detached, so… So fuckign Taylor-y. Why’d she have to ask hard questions like this? She was almost grateful when Madison came in and saved her from trying to defend herself.
“Big talk for--”
“Be quiet, Clements,” Taylor cut her off, “The big girls are talking.”
Before Madison could begin to protest, Emma cut in, “Go help the weasel, Madison.”
“I”m Greg!” the weasel protested even as he was given first aid. Madison, Emma was pleased to note, was surprisingly useful.
Turning to Emma, Taylor took off her glasses and cleaned them against her shirt. A silent and thoughtful cleansing that ended with her sigh, “We may not be friends anymore, but I still consider you family. Please. Stop. Find help.”
Emma forced herself to look straight at her former friend. Looking away would be a weakness, no matter how much she wished things didn’t become so… distant between her and Taylor.
When Sophia grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back, Emma didn’t resist as her friend stepped forward to growl, “She doesn’t need help, Hebert. She’s strong on her own. She doesn’t need you to weaken her.”
“As much as I hate your stupid philosophy, Hess, I am thankful you’re keeping an eye on her,” Taylor inclined her head before adjusting her glasses, “That being said, shut up.”
Idle habit drove Emma to hold her friend from fighting. Stepping forward, Emma entreated, “If we don’t fight back, this school will be overrun.”
“But you take it too far, Emma.”
“Better too far than doing nothing,” Emma refuted, “Don’t be such a hypocrite. I’ve seen you break up fights.”
“I fight as hard as I need to. Making your little Guard here? That’s asking for the bigger players to step in.”
“Nobody’s dead yet,” Emma said dismissively, “And so what if that does happen? This school is nothing but a proxy war. The E88 would be happy to see us dead in their perfect world, the ABB have a history of slavery and misogny and abuse, and the Merchants would have us living half-dead lives.”
Survival of the fittest, might makes right. Emma knew those truths and hated them. But if those were the rules, so be it. They came with the intent to kill. Emma had comforted girls in her Guard that grieved, helped girls hide from their abusers. She had to be strong so that she could protect hers.
When Taylor remained silent, Emma scoffed, “That’s the problem, Taylor. You’ve always been too passive.”
“Well, I’m being active now and I’m giving you an ultimatum.” Taylor glared, notably not actually answering the accusation, “Stop trying to disrupt the balance, Emma. You’re right that things need to change, but not like this. You escalate this place with your actions. It’s not going to end like you think it will.”
“Then what do you fucking suggest then?” Emma returned, “The ABB are honorless scum, the Empire are hypocritical monsters, this place is less of a school and more of a small-scale replica of the Bay. If we just let things be here, what will that mean when we grow up to be out there?”
“We’ll find out when you drag out there into here then,” Taylor shouted for the first time, “You’re not listening. We can’t give them an excuse to escalate.”
Both girls glared at one another, their stances clashing as they had the same argument that had caused them to drift apart on the final day of school.
“...Hey, uh…” the weasel boy raised a hand hesitantly, “Can I go?”
As one, every girl in the hallway chorused, “Why are you even still here?”
===============
Drumming his fingers on the wheel, Danny was nervous as he waited for his daughter. This was going to be a bit of a surprise for Taylor. It was a surprise to himself, but Danny figured that he’d spent long enough as an absentee father.
So when he finally saw Taylor walking out, bag slung over his shoulder, he honked twice and winced only slightly at all the dirty looks.
Unperturbed and detached from the usual embarrassment of teens seeing their parents, Taylor easily changed directions from walking to her usual bus stop to entering the side of Danny’s truck.
“Hey, Dad. Didn’t expect you here,” Taylor commented idly, seatbelting herself with a habitual *click*, “I thought you’d be keeping yourself busy at the docks.”
Danny knew she didn’t mean that with any malice, but it still hurt to hear that his own daughter didn’t expect his presence.
“Well, work was slow.” --As it usually was for the leader of a Dockworker’s Association with an unused Dock--”So I figured I’d pick you up on the last day of school.”
And try being a father again.
He knew he hadn’t been… around as much after Anne’s accident, but… He… Danny had been alone at breakfast that morning. He woke up earlier than Taylor most days, but he usually used that time to work and go to the Docks. Today, he had decided to try and meet Taylor, maybe cook breakfast, chat, but his daughter had simply given him a hug and then left.
Just like that. Maybe it was typical teenage thing to do, but Danny had realized that he was losing Taylor too.
So here he was, trying to pick Taylor up from school. He hadn’t done that in… Danny couldn’t even remember the last time.
Taylor hummed in quiet acknowledgement to his sorry excuse. The ambivalence, in some ways, hurt worse than if she had been quietly angry at his absence. It felt like Taylor had already grieved him, and Danny was just… sometimes there.
Wanting to say something, Danny had to abort his thought when the car behind him honked angrily. Retreating from the conversation, Danny focused on pulling out of the school’s driveway and returning to the road.
Passing a few stoplights, Danny asked, “So anything happen at school?”
“Mm, not much” Taylor shrugged, “Talked with Emma.”
Blinking twice, Danny was confused. He thought that the two had had a falling out. He had called Alan a while back, they themselves were on good terms, but on the topic of their daughters, Alan was just as confused.
“Oh, that’s good,” Danny tried probing, “How is she?”
“Starting a club. It’s popular.”
“Ah, neat. What’s it for?”
“Protecting.”
Protecting what?
…Actually, with the reputation that Winslow had, there were a lot of things to protect and a lot of things to protect against. God, Danny wished they lived in the area that would’ve let her put Taylor in Arcadia, but… Money. Just… Money.
“Oh,” Danny drummed his fingers before jumping forward, “Have you joined?”
“No.”
“...How come?” Danny pressed tentatively.
“We disagree on some stuff,” Taylor muttered, turning to look out the window, a clear refusal to continue the conversation.
“Ah,” Danny responded. Guess they did drift apart. Licking his lips, he wondered if maybe he should’ve tried connecting with Taylor. Maybe he should… No. Forcing Emma and Taylor to interact would only make things owrse, but…
Gah. Danny wished Anne was here. She was always better, always having a tale or something to get Taylor to not be so detached.
The silence was oppressive, so Danny turned on the radio, flinching only slightly when he remembered that it was still tuned to that Japanese station that Anne had loved listening to.
BREAKING NEWS! LUNG HAS BEEN DEFEATED BY A LADY WITH NINE FOX TAILS! WHAT COULD THIS MEAN FOR THE LEADERSHIP OF THE ABB!? MORE ON THIS LATER! FOR NOW, A FAMILIAR JAPANESE FOLK SONG REMIXED FOR THE MODERN DAY!
After the radio host finished his announcement, the music began playing. Despite neither of them being Japanese, both of them had listened to Annete ramble enough Japanese to understand the undertone of the song.
A song about grief and melancholy, wanting to hold onto fading memories, it was… as painful as it was cathartic to listen to.
“Your mother would’ve been sorry to miss the fox lady,” Danny joked, buoyed by the music. Immediately, he regretted it. Anne’s death may have been a year ago, but that empty spot still hurt.
To his surprise, there was a small laugh, “Yeah… Mom would’ve loved to see a real live yokai. She’d probably have begged to pet the tails or something.”
“The fox ones are called Kitsune, right?” Danny tried, testing the waters. His hands felt clammy on the wheel.
“Could also be a gumiho or a huli jing,” Taylor said, “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
Danny refrained from making a fistbump. This was good. This was… This was reconnecting. Yes. He could do this.
Licking his lips, Danny asked, “...Want to visit the shrine?”
Want to visit your mother went unsaid. Technically, the anniversary of her death had long passed as had her birthday, but neither day felt… right. Too close, too tight, too raw. This was spontaneous, but maybe… maybe this would be better. A surprise visit, unplanned, unprepared.
“...Sure.”
A small smile, Danny changed routes from home to Annete. It was small, but it was a start at least. Things may have been lost, but other things were still here too. His work was still needed, his daughter still her, Danny couldn’t just drown in grief forever.
…Maybe he’d pick up gardening. Not like there was much to do at the Docks, try as he might to find even some work, but… maybe flowers could help. Flowers may scatter, but they could always bloom again with love and care.
Heh. Look at him being poetic, even if it was only in his head.
…Annete had always loved flowers. Almost as much as she loved a fight.
