Reiju's introduction to Hella was through Ninety-Nine, though she'd seen Hella first at the townhouse. In fact, the two were so inextricably linked that encounters with one inevitably influenced her perception of the other. Hella was the world to Ninety-Nine, and Hella wanted to nurture the softness that was nestled deep in Ninety-Nine's heart. Reiju had grown up with monsters; her brothers were engineered to be without emotions, which made them cruel and savage, so she was inclined to believe Hella's claims of Ninety-Nine's true nature over what was stated at the townhouse.
There was a time when she had told Sanji that the sea was vast, bawling her eyes out as she'd stressed that he would meet kind people someday. She had freed him for that purpose, seen the goodness and humanity in him that her father still refused to accept. Because of that, she intellectually believed herself more aligned with Hella, who wished freedom for a loved one. Despite her emotional resonance with Ninety-Nine, she didn't think she was "just like [her]" as Hella claimed, because Ninety-Nine was so much more than that.
The world would be better off without Germa and its warmongering royals: This was the objective truth. As for Reiju, she hated everything for which she stood and couldn't stand to live with herself. Dreaming was out of the question; instead she longed for the nightmare to end with her, a lifelong perpetrator, in it. Sanji and Hella were both kind, but their motives and actions had differed, so Hella's insistences were a greater reflection of herself than of Sanji or Reiju—and it was like peering into a fire, raging and strong, so unlike the tearful memories of pain and dehumanization in the custody of ruthless scientists.
Reiju was different. For fear of punishment, she'd molded herself into what her father, a warrior-scientist, wanted. She didn't share Hella's passion. She wasn't a monster like her heartless brothers, but her grasp of personhood was tenuous on a good day. They were never going to agree, and that was fine. It didn't color Reiju's view of Hella, who was a true survivor, and whose light hadn't been extinguished by the cruelty of others.
Her brothers would have laughed and jeered at a memorial. Reiju still had her emotions—still grieved the premature passing of her mother, whom she'd loved dearly—so she didn't laugh at the stuffed animals in Hella's arms at the pier. It was sentimental, but sweet and considerate all the same. It was easier to be cold and aloof; caring in the face of hardship, on the other hand, was brave, even if Hella came on strongly in the ensuing discussion about the bridge.
There was no timeline where Hella would have accepted Ninety-Nine's decision in the next leg of their journey. Reiju couldn't do anything, though—not after everything Ninety-Nine had said about monsters and becoming one. Out of deference to Ninety-Nine's wishes, she chose to withhold certain details from Hella while offering the bracelet as proof of Ninety-Nine's humanity when the tears took her by surprise. She could see the grief for what it was, and it hurt to see Hella, cute and bold up to this point, collapse in on herself.
In present time, she hopes Hella and Ninety-Nine will go to a time and place of their choosing together. The guilt of the penultimate night will stay with her, but that will be for her to shoulder while those two fulfill all the dreams they can imagine for themselves. Good luck out there, Hella!
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Reiju's introduction to Hella was through Ninety-Nine, though she'd seen Hella first at the townhouse. In fact, the two were so inextricably linked that encounters with one inevitably influenced her perception of the other. Hella was the world to Ninety-Nine, and Hella wanted to nurture the softness that was nestled deep in Ninety-Nine's heart. Reiju had grown up with monsters; her brothers were engineered to be without emotions, which made them cruel and savage, so she was inclined to believe Hella's claims of Ninety-Nine's true nature over what was stated at the townhouse.
There was a time when she had told Sanji that the sea was vast, bawling her eyes out as she'd stressed that he would meet kind people someday. She had freed him for that purpose, seen the goodness and humanity in him that her father still refused to accept. Because of that, she intellectually believed herself more aligned with Hella, who wished freedom for a loved one. Despite her emotional resonance with Ninety-Nine, she didn't think she was "just like [her]" as Hella claimed, because Ninety-Nine was so much more than that.
The world would be better off without Germa and its warmongering royals: This was the objective truth. As for Reiju, she hated everything for which she stood and couldn't stand to live with herself. Dreaming was out of the question; instead she longed for the nightmare to end with her, a lifelong perpetrator, in it. Sanji and Hella were both kind, but their motives and actions had differed, so Hella's insistences were a greater reflection of herself than of Sanji or Reiju—and it was like peering into a fire, raging and strong, so unlike the tearful memories of pain and dehumanization in the custody of ruthless scientists.
Reiju was different. For fear of punishment, she'd molded herself into what her father, a warrior-scientist, wanted. She didn't share Hella's passion. She wasn't a monster like her heartless brothers, but her grasp of personhood was tenuous on a good day. They were never going to agree, and that was fine. It didn't color Reiju's view of Hella, who was a true survivor, and whose light hadn't been extinguished by the cruelty of others.
Her brothers would have laughed and jeered at a memorial. Reiju still had her emotions—still grieved the premature passing of her mother, whom she'd loved dearly—so she didn't laugh at the stuffed animals in Hella's arms at the pier. It was sentimental, but sweet and considerate all the same. It was easier to be cold and aloof; caring in the face of hardship, on the other hand, was brave, even if Hella came on strongly in the ensuing discussion about the bridge.
There was no timeline where Hella would have accepted Ninety-Nine's decision in the next leg of their journey. Reiju couldn't do anything, though—not after everything Ninety-Nine had said about monsters and becoming one. Out of deference to Ninety-Nine's wishes, she chose to withhold certain details from Hella while offering the bracelet as proof of Ninety-Nine's humanity when the tears took her by surprise. She could see the grief for what it was, and it hurt to see Hella, cute and bold up to this point, collapse in on herself.
In present time, she hopes Hella and Ninety-Nine will go to a time and place of their choosing together. The guilt of the penultimate night will stay with her, but that will be for her to shoulder while those two fulfill all the dreams they can imagine for themselves. Good luck out there, Hella!