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Wakoko: -and then there’s the Pyloric Caeca! The one that looks like a finger? Well, that one helps the whole process by secreting enzymes that help to absorb the food that the fish ate. Oh! An enzyme is like, um, a liquid! It’s protein, mostly. And we have it too!
From under that woolen black beanie, stained with white paint, Wakoko’s giant of a father simply ‘hmmd’ almost in reverence, the sound reverberating from behind his massive gray beard. He knew of few things that could make his daughter smile as much as talking about awful shit and gore, but he liked seeing his daughter happy, so he just ‘hmmd’. There was not much point in following her speech, though: it was as if in a different language. At some point, though, even Wakoko would remember that the rice was getting cold, and he patiently waited for it to happen before spitting words himself.
Wakoko’s father: How’s the dog?
Wakoko: Lbivbelby!
Wakoko’s father: Mouth.
Wakoko: Oh!
Regardless, it was good to hear. Lately, there are a lot of things that the girl doesn’t notice. The first dog he found her with was, well, half a dog, but at least she was wearing a mask and using gloves. Puking was all that kept him from slapping the ever living shit out of that eight years old ass, but it also was what gave him time to reflect and tackle the moment carefully. After all, people sell their boats sometimes to pay the doctors.
No one else has to know.
Wakoko: It already woke up this morning, but it’s still moping about ‘cause anesthesia ain’t cheap, you know? The poor little thing <span class="mu-i">(shakes head)</span>: it had a Sakura Cardcaptors toy blocking its anus. Do you want it? We can put it over the bow of Mom’s ship.
Wakoko’s father: No.
More rice. The man stands. It’s 6 AM. The sun isn’t even out yet, but college won’t pay itself and fishing, like his son said, is a dying business.
Wakoko: I love you, dad! Have a nice day!
The old, jaded fisherman doesn’t answer as he leaves . Wakoko knows it doesn’t matter: working hard is how he hugs. Wish she had some of those, though. Outside their private cabin, the dock extends into the endless dark, and the dark merges with the sea below, as if dark and cold was all there ever was.
When she stands, Wakoko takes a moment to grab her head. Slowly but surely, she’ll be fine again
it’s just another headache.
Of the clawing noises of the streets of Osaka only a faint, dying screech reaches here; after all, this is the secret world that keeps it alive. Oh well. She’ll have to follow it soon enough. Although it’s early, the school she attends is far.
