STATIC
All around Fang was static that suddenly shifted from one memory to another. That was all they saw. There were other sensations, sure, but they were muted in comparison to the nothingness that was before them. In fact, they didn't even know what was going on or where they were…or even who they were.
What is… they thought to themself.
Before they could think any further, they started to hear sounds. At first, it seemed like the sounds were omnipresent, coming from all over. But the longer they listened, the more directional they became. They could hear various noises getting closer and farther away. After a while, they recognized the sounds as voices.
Slowly, their eyes opened and all they saw was a ceiling. They didn’t recognize their surroundings at first. The room was small, and it had two small beds in it, and a single window on the far side. To their left was a slightly ajar door. When they looked at the polished, wooden floor, it looked like there was blood all over.
They gasped, closed their eyes, and clutched their head. It hurt. Why did it hurt? What hurt? They forced whatever image that plagued their head to go away. They didn’t want to remember…they didn’t want to remember what?
As they opened their eyes again, the room was back to normal and the pain went away. Like the far-gone, lingering memory, the pain subsided. They threw the blankets off of them and jumped onto the floor. Almost like muscle memory, they managed to walk around the toys on the floor without really paying them any attention.
They were a child, no older than six, navigating around a familiar, but distantly forgotten room. Regardless, they continued their way out into the next room. This space was much more open and spacious. There was a table in the middle, placed on top of a rug. No, wait, there’s no rug there. But there should be. Where was it?
The rest of the room was devoid of most furniture except two other reclining chairs and a stand that held a small box TV. All of the sliding doors and windows were open, letting in the morning light along with the cool, summer breeze. But that wasn't the only thing they let in. A conversation between a couple of individuals could be heard right outside the house.
Curious, like always, the child tiptoed their way to one of the open doors and peered out. Standing outside were three adults, two of which they had never seen before. However, the third one—who was also the most vocal out of the three—was instantly recognizable. As they peeked the rest of their body out the door, the adults all turned to face them.
“Fang!” the familiar adult said with a smile. He bent down, getting on an even height as them. “Are you doing alright? How do you feel?” This Japanese man was tall and elegant, even in his youthful appearance. His hair was black and slicked back. His eyes were piercingly blue and his smile was pearly white—the same color as most of his attire.
“I don’t know,” Fang replied, confused. When the man called them Fang, something resonated within them.
“It’s alright, Fang, I know last night was a lot for you,” the man said, patting Fang on the head. “But don't worry, we’re going to get you and John out of here and into a better place.”
“Riki!” one of the other men exclaimed. This Japanese man had long, black hair that was parted in two and tumbled down to his mid-back. “We haven’t made that decision yet.”
Riki then stood back up to full height and looked at the long-harried man. “Yoshin, my brother, what else are we to do? It's not fair that these children would have to suffer due to the choices of another. That’s not fair! We have the capacity to take them in, so why not?”
Yoshin sighed. “I know how attached you are to these kids—Nola was a wonderful woman—but they aren’t your kids. The law in this land won’t let you—”
“Screw the law!” Riki replied. “It’s failed me so many times over. So why should I listen to it? I’ll take the law into my own hands. I know freedom and I will give it to these children!”
“Whatever,” Yoshin, replied, “do what you want. But you’re raising them on your own.” He then turned around and started to walk away. “Come on, Riki, let’s head back to the boat.”
After a few minutes of waiting, Riki knelt back down and smiled at Fang. “I’m going to get your sibling and then we’re going to head back to my home island. Is that ok, Fang?”
“I-I don’t know,” Fang replied. Tears began to well up in their eyes. “I don’t know what's going on. I can't remember anything.”
Riki ran his hands through the child’s hair. “Trauma will do that to you. Let’s hope that it doesn't come back up. And if it does, I will train you in my people’s way of mastering the mind to help you combat it.”
For the next decade, Fang and their sibling, John, lived on a remote island off the coast of Japan. The island itself was cruedly circular in shape, with a mountain-like rim that encased the inner island like a wall. Most of the land was a valley that sat in the middle of this ridgeline, covered in trees. In the center was a small mound that was not settled—it was a sacred place to the inhabitants—that had a large pond of water resting at the top. Small waterfalls cascaded from that mound, forming trickling streams that converged into a river that ran the length of the island, ending at a small gap in the mountains that allowed it to empty into the sea.
It was the home of a small village of people who lived apart from but were not unaware of their Japanese neighbors. In fact, these people were Japanese, but had separated from the mainland centuries ago. They were people who mastered the art of mental prowess. Over the course of a hundred generations, these people evolved in a way most humans have yet to do. They developed a sixth sense for mental energy. They were the originators of resonating, although they did not refer to themselves as “resonators”.
Even when Fang and John arrived on the island, and even though they were young children, there was no time wasted. Riki immediately went to work and began to teach those kids the way of resonance.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Fang. John. Follow me,” Riki said, gesturing.
STATIC
Another memory jumped forward. Suddenly, Fang was in the middle of the village, about 3 years older now. They were sitting crisscrossed with their eyes closed. The top of their forehead was dripping with sweat and their head was pounding. Finally, they gave up and slouched to the ground, collapsing onto their back.
“FANG!” Riki yelled. “How can you expect to be strong enough to defend yourself if you can't even resonate? Look at your sibling.”
Fang begrudgingly sat up and watched in habitual amazement as John’s mental waves thrummed with an impossibly even rhythm. They watched those vibrating waves shift around their body, as if John was focusing their mentality on different limbs and sections of their body. It was impressive and infuriating.
“I just can’t do it, Dad,” Fang sighed.
Riki marched over and looked down at them. His eyes were cold but his smile was oddly warm. Even when he was disappointed, there was still a slight air of charm to him. It was cruel.
“Stop thinking,” he said. “Let me do the thinking for you. Don't think, just do.”
STATIC
A few years later, Fang found themself laying in the mud during a thunderstorm. Their body was aching and their head was exhausted. Every second, their brain throbbed three times, pounding the inside of their skull. It was hard to tell whether that was from the fall or from overexerting themself.
Why can’t I do it? they thought to themself. I’m trying, father, I’m trying.
They placed their arm over their eyes and began to cry. Pain began to set in once more. It was a pain they hadn’t felt in years. Old memories began to surface, ones that they couldn't recall. There was violence, yelling, blood—lord, there was so much blood! There was fear and uncertainty that boiled into their veins.
Did I do this?
It hurt. It hurt a lot. It hurt A LOT. Fang tried to pick themself up from their muddy grave, but their body was too weak and their mind was a wreck, All they wanted to do was train at the top of the hill. They wanted to go to the lake in the center of the island, where all the great people train and get stronger. But they couldn't even make it up the slope.
Worse yet, now they were relieving some kind of long-forgotten trauma. Everything seemed to be their fault. Every time they decide to do something, they get hurt. Pain always followed choice. What's worse, is that the memory was telling them that they inflicted pain on someone else. Their actions always result in pain.
“I’m a failure.”
STATIC
Fang was holding a crudely put-together guitar. They enjoyed the sounds it made. In secret, they had been training themself on how to play it. Yoshin even helped.
Music was a thing that soothed the voices in their head. It helped calm whatever was laying dormant within their mind. All the pain in the world seemed to go away. It was the only time they felt at peace, and oddly enough, it was the only time they had decided to do something for themself.
“I want to be a musician,” they said to themself, smiling.
STATIC
The guitar was laying on the ground in front of them, broken. Riki had smashed it. Fang was not allowed to be a musician. Riki even took their favorite book away from them. It was a fantasy book that they quite enjoyed. Nothing fun ever lasts. So why bother choosing to do anything if losing it only ends with pain?
STATIC
“They are my children and I know what's best for them!” Riki yelled from the other side of the wall.
“You’re too harsh!” Yoshin screamed back. “You can’t control everything they do! You have to let them have their own free will!”
Riki slammed their fist against the wall. “NO!” he shouted. “That’s what killed Nola! That's what killed their mom!”
“No, an evil man killed Nola. He was a twisted, disgusting man. Stop with this—”
“An evil man that had a choice! She was killed because he was allowed to choose evil. And I won't let that stand any longer!”
The door into Fang’s room swung open with force. “Come on, Fang, we’re leaving,” Riki said, grabbing Fang's arm.
Yoshing followed right after him, grabbing his brother by the collar. He ripped Riki away from Fang, pinning him against the wall. The two of them instantly began to resonate, projecting massive amounts of mental waves at each other. The force of this clash cracked the walls and the floor around. Fang’s head began to throb.
“Look,” Yoshing said without breaking eye contact with Riki, “you’re hurting your kids! Stop with this nonsense! Stop resonating.”
Riki smiled with devious intent. “Only when you stop, brother.”
More malicious bursts of mental energy radiated out of them without restraint. Blood began to drip out of Fang’s nose and ears and eyes. The suppressed memories were forcibly returning. The pain was returning. Their world began to swirl and they started to lose all sense of direction.
In that haze, John grabbed their arm and dragged them out of the house and into the cold night. Through their confusion, popping in and out of reality, they heard John speak.
“It’s going to be on, Fang,” they said. “We gotta get out of here. Riki and Uncle Yoshin are fighting. It’s not safe.”
Fang’s head just swayed and their body started to twitch. Everything happening to them was out of their control, but that was something they relinquished a long time ago. They had it hammered into their head that they should not think, just do. Let Riki do all the thinking. Let Riki do all the thinking. Let Riki do—
And then a sudden burst of pain seared the inside of their brain, causing them to kneel over with nausea. John stopped and bent down next to them.
“John,” Fang began to cry, “there’s a monster in my head.”
“What?” John said, catching their breath. “What are you talking about? Are you ok?”
“It hurts,” Fang said. “It hurts. It hurts. I want this pain to end. Why won't it end? Father, please, let me end this pain!”
Fang began to twitch even more.
“What’s going on?” John gasped. “Y-Your mental waves are going insane.” John took a few steps back. “Fang, calm down! It’s going to be alright. I’m here for you.”
Fang looked up with the most solemn, blank expression. Tears continued to roll down their face as their body twitched without restraint. And just for a moment, they spoke to their older sibling. “Come to me, Painender.”
STATIC