#part 3 of 4 in the 'tabi doesnt understand small solos' series

[syxjaewon]

expiration date, part 1; ‘illaia’

                                 rule five : the universe owes you nothing.

the call comes inconspicuously, a low hum in the relative quiet of his ship, the message entering the mainframe the same way most all of them do, to be gauged and assessed first by the piloting station, the bridge, before rerouted down to its intended recipient, in this case being yang jaewon. kinam’s voice carries through his communicator as he tells the captain there is a hail coming through for him, which he accepts despite the day being late, the evening hours setting in, his coat being somewhere on the bed, boots parked by his bedroom door.

when the incoming location arrives on his screen, it’s from zephyr, and there’s very few people on that planet at the moment who call him through these means; it must be vera, which is why he stands up straight, readjusts his shirt, perks to attention. they talk weekly, but she’s early, so he assumes it’s something important.

when the image finally cuts through however, jaewon is greeted by the dark brown eyes of saito kyoji, vera’s first mate of over ten years, another piece of the puzzle that had helped raise and shape jaewon into who he is today. of all the brigands and renegades who came and went from the ship under vera’s command, kyoji had always been the one man who could manage to keep up with her, the one man sturdy enough to weather through her storms, the one man who knew more about her than jaewon did himself.

“saito,” jaewon breathes, addressing him politely by his last name.

“yang,” the older man responds, his eyes warming, the creases in his skin forming pronounced there. he wears specs of grey in his hair now, a salt and pepper look that jaewon is not surprised still looks good on him. “it’s good to see you, you’re looking well.”

there’s always been a calming aura laced through kyoji’s presence, the man immobile, immutable, unphased despite whatever racket or turmoil raged around him— something jaewon has always envied and wished to emulate more than anything else. whereas vera is steel and hurricane, kyoji is earth and roots, the way mountains reach deep into planetary cores, every word from his lips a measured, calculated response, seemingly never confused or unsure about anything, the whole universe laid out for him and he’d barely bat an eye. he’d taught jaewon how to fight, knives and long-blades, how to shoot, how to stand your ground against impossible, insurmountable odds, how to stop running from the explosions ( as he’d done in his childhood ) and instead run towards them.

jaewon nods to the compliment, not really knowing what to say to that, how to properly respond; he’s never been any good with praise but thankfully kyoji is used to that by now and doesn’t take offense. “i didn’t know you were going to be on zephyr,” he tells his mentor, gold eyes flickering to the small spaces behind him, whatever he can see of the apartment he’s in— it doesn’t look like vera’s place, which is strange since whenever anyone visits, vera always insists they stay with her.

kyoji inhales deeply, something in his eyes darkening, sobering. “i didn’t know i was going to be, either. until yesterday.”

jaewon blinks a few times, an unsettling worry boiling up inside his system. something is wrong. something is not the same. “what’s happened?”

the older man hesitates, blinking, pausing, a pain leaking over his face for only a split second, not something jaewon is used to seeing, not something he’s used to registering when looking at his longest friend, the delay lasting only a few seconds yet somehow spanning out across a thousand years. his heart drops, his breathing holds, the whole universe around him mutes itself, preparing for the onslaught of what he knows is about to be something terrible, something horrific. kyoji never falters, never struggles, so what’s the one thing that could make him do so? jaewon almost doesn’t want to hear it, almost wants to rescind his question, go back to small talk, go back to last week when he and vera had argued, when he and vera had laughed, had confessed to caring too much about the other, back to when she was fine, she was alright, she was on the screen right in front of him.

“vera called me last night, sent me some messages to pass along to you and henry. i thought it was strange so i tried hailing her back but she wouldn’t answer. you know angel isn’t that far away from zephyr, so i just hopped on down here this morning and…” his eyes cut away from jaewon, staring past his screen, beyond it, beyond time. “she passed, rat. sometime in the night. apparently she was very sick, had been for a long while, probably before she even left her ship to you, probably why she left her ship to you. didn’t tell any of us, so…” his voice trails off for a moment, eyes hollow, voice grating but still steady, the baritone heavy like a stone sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

and that’s how jaewon feels. he can remember the first time he’d ever seen a massive collection of water, remember the first time he’d ever almost drown in one, the suffocation, the building pressure, the weight of the entire planet seemingly enclosing around every line and crevice of his body, the way there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to grab, nothing to reach, no way out. this is reality and there’s no way out. he can remember the way the surface looked from underneath it, like life slipping away from him, moving further and further, despite how hard he fought, despite how fast he tried to move, his limbs burdened by their own measure, slow and dumb, lungs aching, lips unsure whether to gasp or stay shut.

it’s unthinkable to imagine, but somehow the words leave kyoji’s lips and jaewon is already seeing it in his mind, vera blackhound, all ice and tempests, all lightning and power, devoid of movement, devoid of breath, heart gone silent, eyes closed. he can see the way the air gathers around her softly, dust particles themselves careful not to infringe too much into her space, the moonlight gliding in from her window, passing by, passing into morning while she lays still, stationary, stagnant. beyond that, he imagines her decaying, skin collapsing in on itself, growing grey and dry, growing brittle, her hair thinning.

somehow he’d never pictured this before, not in his entire fourteen years of knowing her, of talking to her. despite the lives they lived, the dangers they wrapped around themselves like blankets to hold, to sleep in, despite her waning body, age chipping away at her the same way it chips at marble statues, he’d never thought she could die. silly of him of course, because with as close as he’s ridden with death, he ought to expect it with everyone, he ought to know death hungers for everyone’s flesh, but not her— not the woman with more emotions kept in a single word than most people feel their entire lives, not the woman who’d survived love lost, family broken, who’d demanded the respect of men much larger than her, stronger than her, meaner than her.

illaia. the woman who’d given him everything.

he stands stock-still, so untouched for a moment he wonders if his heart is still beating— he knows his lungs aren’t working, his eyes have gone grey, his throat has closed. he can’t speak, can’t react; any expression given would be a catastrophe he’s unsure whether he would be able to hold back, the dam of his emotions cracking, threatening to overspill. he wants to think this is a prank, this isn’t real, this isn’t happening, that she wouldn’t just die like that without saying anything to him first, she wouldn’t just leave without one last soliloquy about how to take care of the ship better.

but then, much like jaewon, she’d always hated goodbyes.

kyoji continues, despite the whole universe grinding to a halt. “i’ve already talked to the other crew, they’re on their way to vallura for the wake. i’ll be leaving zephyr with her soon also. i’m forwarding you the messages she’d wanted me to give to you and henry, i trust you’ll pass along the engineer’s to him. and tell him i—”

“to valluria?” the words breech through jaewon’s lips out of sheer surprise, his registering of the words almost too late, his brain still somewhere at the bottom of an ocean. “vera was from ariel, why would she…?”

his question tapers off into the white-noise of his mind, the strange sort of non-silence that floods through him. kyoji’s eyes glance downwards for a moment, his own emotions verging on breakage as well, his voice coming through the screen as little more than a whisper. “you know, she’d always called me brother. and you son. we’re the closest to her, and no matter how far and hard we try to run from it, we’re still both vallurian. i think she always wished she was too.”

finally jaewon blinks, lowers his head, stares at the floor by his feet, the roots of him upended, his equilibrium capsized. she’d never once judged him for his background, had always coated him with pride, always allowed him to be confident in himself, even in the scars and damage that world left him with, and having kyoji there alongside her had always reinforced that even more. the two of them are the reason why he has any self-reliance at all, any dignity associated with valluria that he carries with him through the verse. they are the reason he’s never been ashamed to admit his background.

“the wake will be held there, in three days. i’ve named you the vigilant for the jan’hazal.” jan’hazal, valluria’s customary, deep-desert burial ritual; a pain in the ass, but also an honor and one jaewon has to accept simply because he must. kyoji’s voice strengthens a bit, hardens. “you’ll be there. right?”

“i’ll be there.”

“i’ll send you the coordinates.”

and just like that the screen cuts out and jaewon is alone in the dimly lit room as though things are supposed to continue on like nothing had happened. like he ought to be normal now, the verse and all its planets start spinning again. like everything hasn’t just dismantled itself, come unwoven around his ankles, the pieces all falling away, crumbling. he stares for a long moment, long after the small five-note beep of the secondary message coming through, two personal missives and a set of coordinates.

he deals with the coordinates first, puts his boots on and takes the palm-sized stick of information up to the bridge, nothing in his gait reminiscent of thunder or hail, his usual stride muted as he steps past members of his crew, eyes fixated downwards for once, unable to meet any of their gazes, unable to communicate with any of them. he winds his way onto the cockpit, setting the stick down onto the console in front of where yihan is sitting. when he speaks, his tone is deliberate, subdued. “follow this please. we’re changing course.”

he steps over to the intercom, picking up the small, handheld object into his hands, inhales and exhales fully before turning it on to address the whole of serenity.

“this is your captain speaking. i know we’re currently on route to boros to pick up a job, but unfortunately, plans have changed and we need to make a pitstop on valluria. we’ll be there only a day and a night, before leaving in the morning. this is not job related, this is… something personal to me. the original owner of serenity, vera blackhound, has passed and i’ve been named her vigilant to the wake. i would suggest everyone remain onboard and be ready to leave in the morning after the ritual, but it’s your decision.” the lump burns in his throat but he’s got to get through this, he has to. “henry, if you would come meet me in the mess hall, i have something to give to you.”

and with that, he cuts out.