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umbry-fic · 2 years

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Broken Sticks

Summary: The sharing of snacks between two friends, and how it changes throughout the years.

Fandom: Rotaeno Characters: Hoppe, Ilot Relationships: Hoppe & Ilot Rating: G Word Count: 3228 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 16/07/2022

Notes: This probably won't be canon compliant in the future since I wrote it after only chapter 1 was released.

~~~

“I’m sooooo hungry,” Ilot whined, her head falling onto the mountain of homework that had built up over a week of procrastination. Sending it toppling, sheets of white scattering into the air to flutter down, like the snowflakes that never fell on Aquaria. There was no winter to speak of on this planet - it was only ever hot, hot, hot, as it was right now, the afternoon sunlight slicing through the window, unimpeded by the pitifully thin curtains that had been provided by the apartment. The rays were torture on her fins, making them droop as sweat gathered on her forehead from the heat.

That was it. She couldn’t concentrate any further, not with her stomach rumbling every two minutes. This was her limit! If she kept on like this, the room would surely start spinning around her, and she would die young in this sweltering apartment, surrounded by the results of her failures. Baked like a fish in an oven.

“That’s your own fault for skipping lunch,” Hoppe chided gently, paying her dramatics no mind. She expertly grabbed Ilot’s fleeing homework out of the air without even lifting her gaze from the book in her hand, placing them back on the table in a tidy pile, surrounded by stationery that had been left all over the place.

In contrast to her own side of the table, Hoppe’s was squeaky-clean. Her homework was all done, paper covered from top to bottom in her neat handwriting - compact letters, with straight lines drawn in a steady hand.

“But I had to watch my favourite idol’s performance! It’s not my fault that I didn’t have time to get lunch!” she protested, turning her head to pout at Hoppe, her cheek pressed against the table. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Hoppe smiled, setting the book down to pat her on the head with one hand as she pulled something out of her pocket with the other. “Here you go.”

She gazed eagerly at the object her best friend had just procured - a rectangular box, emblazoned with the Pocky logo in large white letters. Her favourite snack, the thought of the thin, crunchy, savoury sticks with the sweet cream coating the top enough for her to start salivating.

“My saviour! Hoppe, how do you always know -”

The box was snatched from her view before she could even reach out a hand to grasp it, Hoppe wagging a finger in her face as she put on the sternest expression she could. “We’re best friends, remember? But I bought this for myself just now, so we’re sharing! Understood?”

“Okay, okay!” She waved her hands in surrender, not wanting to step on Hoppe’s toes and risk the box of Pocky being snatched away forever. If that were to happen, she would actually die. Both from heartbreak, and an empty stomach.

Mostly from an empty stomach.

Holding herself back from leaping for the box like a ravenous wolf, she closed her eyes, fingers impatiently tapping out a rhythm against her arm as she barely stopped the drool from escaping her mouth. Against the dark backdrop of her eyelids, the tear of cardboard and the rustling of foil were torture, like feathers repeatedly tickling her sensitive fins.

“Now then. Every time you take one, I’ll take one. And we’ll continue until we’ve finished the whole pack. Deal?”

“Yes, yes!” she cried, eyes snapping open to stare with sparkling eyes at the now torn open foil packet, laying on the table with Pocky sticks spilling out. So lovely and wonderful, a gift to answer any of her woes.

She’d do anything, anything to start eating!

Hoppe let out a little laugh, smiling in amusement as she shook her head. “Then go ahead.”

No other cue was needed. Within seconds, both of them had pounced onto the packet, Hoppe dropping her mature air altogether when it came to food, acting her age for once.

The next few minutes passed in bliss, stick after stick snatched from the packet as her homework went forgotten. Some nibbled on, others gobbled down instantly as she shared a conversation with Hoppe, one that could barely be understood at times, with how muffled her voice was. A meandering conversation about anything and everything, like a river with no end in sight.

They talked about schoolwork, about their schoolmates and the class gathering that would soon occur, and how boring it was guaranteed to be.

And how hot it had been lately, not a single drop of rain to be seen, the sun constantly showing its face and losing any hint of shyness it possessed before. Leaving the flowers they had grown in the shared garden located at the bottom of the apartment to wither, leaves curling in on themselves as the plants desperately pleaded for the blessing of the heavens. Waiting every day for her and Hoppe to descend upon them like angels, carrying with them the great relief of water.

Throughout it all, they couldn’t help but giggle whenever their hands collided, laughing at the sight of the other with crumbs littering their cheeks. A special warmth spread up her arm from where their free hands sat between them, their pinkies wrapped around each other, sweetness flooding her tongue as gratitude welled from deep within her heart.

Hoppe always indulged her, never complaining about the copious amounts of whining she could get up to sometimes. Always sticking by her side, offering to help her in any way she could, and willing to go along with whatever crazy shenanigans she’d thought up.

And she was the only one who ever got to see this side of Hoppe - the one who could tease playfully, who could laugh freely with her face lit up in joy, who would smile at her gently as they made cherished memories.

“Thank you so much for sharing with me, Hoppe. I know you had to be hungry too…” She trailed off as her gaze fell on the packet once more, noting the single stick poking out, at risk of rolling off the desk.

It was her turn.

“Nuh-uh!” Hoppe’s voice rang out, lightning fast, as Ilot recoiled, rubbing her forehead where Hoppe had just flicked it. “I said equal share, so no stealing!”

“Al - alright…” she mumbled, bowing her head, fins drooping in shame, feeling like a toddler that had just been reprimanded.

“I just need to split this perfectly in half,” Hoppe muttered, placing the single Pocky stick in her palm and focussing intensely on it as if it was the key to the secrets of the universe. Her hand itching towards a ruler, her penchant for everything she did to be logical and perfect showing itself.

“That’s gonna take forever! Can’t you just -”

Snap.

The both of them froze, staring down in horror at Hoppe’s now-clenched fist, fingers shakingly uncurling to reveal the final Pocky stick. Or the remaining pieces of it, having snapped in two with no hopes of being put back together.

“I’m sorry…” Ilot muttered. This was all her fault. She knew Hoppe startled easily, and yet… “I’ll take the smaller piece.”

It was the least she could do.

“No, it’s all right.” Hoppe recovered quickly, the shock washed out of her face as if it’d never been there. “Here.”

She placed the longer bit into Ilot’s slack hands, popping the pitiful quarter into her own mouth without a moment’s hesitation.

“Thank you…” Ilot whispered, staring down at the snack.

It was just like Hoppe to do this.

Her best friend only smiled, nodding reassuringly, not a hint of anger or disappointment in her eyes. “Anything for you.”

She hadn’t known, back when she was a child calling out to the quiet girl sitting alone in the dark corner of a classroom, that she would be forging a bond that could last a lifetime, strong as steel and unbending under any pressure. She didn’t know what she’d done to earn herself such an incredible friend, one that she couldn’t imagine ever losing. But what she did know was that she would never let go, and that she would cradle every moment they spent together close to her chest.

Hoping to see Hoppe’s kind smile for the rest of her life, here on Aquaria.

~~~

Sighing, Ilot let her backpack drop onto the floor, rising to her tiptoes to stretch. Her feet hurt from walking the long distance from school to this new apartment she’d just moved into, an entire kilometre further away than her previous place of residence, now six feet under the rising ocean.

With the constant patter of the rain against her window to keep her company, she began to rapidly unload the contents of her bag, excitement burning in her heart. The Q&A session hosted by Orlan would be starting soon, and it was bound to be awesome! Tuning in with headphones on to block out the sound of rain and forget the existence of school sounded incredibly relaxing, and was how she planned to end the day. She could hardly wait. But she had to finish setting up first!

Laptop, textbooks, homework…

She paused, thoughts screeching to a halt as she pulled out a familiar box from the deep depths of her backpack. Small, with the same old words printed on it, the packaging blazing pink in colour instead of the usual red.

She must have bought this from the vending machine she’d passed on the way back home, though she could barely remember doing so, mind far too tired from the deluge of lessons she had endured today.

Force of habit, for there was no one here to share it with anymore.

And just like that, the flame of excitement in her heart was snuffed out in an instant. Leaving her empty, the cold of the endless rain seeping into her and weighing her down.

Collapsing into her chair, she blinked away the tears that had sprung up in the corners of her eyes and silently pried the box open, booting up her computer with her other hand. Snacking on Pocky while listening to the livestream didn’t sound so bad.

But not even the bright voice of her favourite idol and the colour exploding from every inch of the video was enough to distract her from the letter icon on the corner of her screen, the lack of notifications seeming to mock her.

The messaging app sat dormant, as it had for the past month, ever since she had said her goodbyes to Hoppe at the Spaceport, waving weakly as she tried to put on a brave face. Only letting herself shatter once her childhood friend had disappeared into the ship, for it wouldn’t be fair to make Hoppe feel guilty.

Not a single message had arrived since then, the promise they had made, sealed with a shake of their pinkies, constantly echoing in her ears. Cracks beginning to snake through her once steadfast belief that they would be able to remain the best of friends throughout anything, even separation. No matter how many times she had told herself that she was overreacting, that it had only been a short time and that Hoppe must be busy, she couldn’t stop doubt from festering in her heart. Couldn’t help but see the shards of that promise, already lying broken at her feet.

Even then, it was still a better alternative than the thought that lurked at the back of her mind, that she desperately suppressed every time it reared its ugly head.

That something terrible had happened to Hoppe, with no one there to help her.

And the sweetness on her tongue was no longer the same as it had been before, when Hoppe was here to hold her hand as they curled up together to watch the stream. It was no longer a warm feeling that spread throughout her entire body and put her utterly at ease, comfortable enough to close her eyes and slip into sleep knowing Hoppe would be here to watch over her, but rather a bitterness that only widened the hole in her heart. Mixing with salt from the tears that slipped down her face, her trembling fingers crumpling the foil package.

She couldn’t even stomach the second stick, choosing to abandon the entire endeavour and dump the packet into the trash before crawling into bed, stream forgotten.

It wasn’t meant for her, after all.

It was meant for another, far away and out of reach.

Where are you, Hoppe? Have you found someone else to call your best friend? If you have, I wouldn’t blame you… I’m certain there are so many more people out there who would be a more fitting friend for you than me. Someone smarter and more mature, just like you. Unlike me, just a whiny brat…

I hope that, wherever you are, you’re as happy as can be.

But… I miss you…

~~~

“What’s all of that?” Bolt asked, pointing at the contents of the bucket situated on the dashboard, right next to the adorable slime plushy with a grumpy expression that she’d picked up on the planet they had just departed. His scruffy brown hair was even more fluffy than usual from the shower he had just taken, curls bouncing against his forehead as he leaned closer to get a better look at the bucket, filled to the brim with brown sticks.

“Oh, nothing special. Just Pocky,” Ilot replied nonchalantly without even turning to face him, waving away his question as she propped her feet on the dashboard, staring out the windshield at the scenery outside. At this speed, the cosmos was nothing more than a blur of black, stars flying by as tiny specks that vanished from view within seconds. The ship was configured on auto-pilot, leaving her free to lounge around as it did all the work in avoiding the debris that littered the galaxy, ensuring that they would never be in danger of colliding with a meteor.

If that situation ever did occur, she didn’t think she had the skill to navigate them out of danger, even if she’d improved greatly since leaving Aquaria on this ill-planned trip. Maybe Bolt would be able to help… and perform this “barrel roll” trick he kept mentioning.

“Can I have some?”

“No!” She slapped his hand away, scowling as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying her very best to radiate the same intimidating aura Hoppe did whenever she stopped her from stealing the cookie batter.

Maybe she just looked stupid, but it was the effort that counted!

“But why not? You’ve been filling it up for the entirety of today, and you haven’t taken a single stick back to eat!”

“No means no! It’s… Well, it’s a bit hard to explain, actually,” she said sheepishly, scratching the side of her head as she averted her gaze. To anyone else, her actions would surely look foolish. For to them, Pocky sticks were nothing more than meaningless snacks that held no significance.

Bolt most likely wouldn’t understand.

All that they meant to her, and to the girl she was doing all of this for.

“Then -”

“My ship, my rules! Remember?”

Bolt finally backed off at that, as she’d known he would. He may be a stubborn kid, but he respected airships more than anything. Whenever he was on one, he considered the captain’s word as gospel.

And somehow along the way, she had truly become the captain of this run-down ship. She had left the safe boundaries of Aquaria and travelled far in this galaxy within its metal body, faced sights she had never expected to experience in her lifetime, and learned how to guide its wheel and treat it well. Experiencing the thrill of adventure and the adrenaline of danger, burning within her heart.

She glanced at the bucket, transferring another thin Pocky stick - coated in white cream and cookie chunks - from the currently open pack in her lap to it. Before grabbing another one to munch on thoughtfully, once more staring out into space.

In the direction of the unknown, which she would march towards without any hesitation, as Hoppe had done for her so many times before. Embracing the fear she felt and using it to propel her forward, towards where she would find her childhood friend, and know the joy of embracing her once more.

“I hope you’re ready to pay me back for all of this, Hoppe…”

~~~

“Guess what!”

“Whoa!” Ilot jumped, leaning away from the box currently being waved before her face, heart leaping into her throat as she whipped her head around to stare at the person who had suddenly appeared behind her. “Hoppe! Don’t scare me like that!”

Hoppe chuckled, a sound she’d missed so terribly much. Like honey, sliding sweetly into her ears and down to her heart. After so long without it, she couldn’t get enough of it. “I see it’s still as easy to sneak up on you. And you aren’t even listening to your beloved streamer this time.”

“I wasn’t expecting you. I was just enjoying the sunset.” She pouted, pointing at the breathtaking view before them both, visible from the top of the cliff she was currently sitting on, grass tickling her thighs.

“It is incredible,” Hoppe replied, settling down next to her and taking the time to straighten out Ilot’s beret, ensuring the cat ears pointed towards the sky. The sun hung low over the rolling hills below them, painting the sky in broad scarlet and pink strokes, its final rays catching against Hoppe’s hair and making it shine. “It’s not something we could ever experience on Aquaria. It’s all just high-rises and ocean there. But…”

“You still miss it?” She let her head fall onto Hoppe’s shoulder, her hand reaching for hers to intertwine their fingers together. “I do too. But we can go back whenever we want to. Together.”

“Yeah. Together.”

Here they were, having fallen right back into how they used to be. Almost like their year apart had been no time at all, for the bond between them could never be broken. She should never have lost faith, but she would just have to make up for her mistake now, in the present, with Hoppe here by her side.

“Come on, let’s start eating,” Hoppe prompted, raising the box.

In no time at all, the box had been emptied, leaving only one Pocky stick.

The two of them smiled at each other, Hoppe snapping it in two and offering the longer piece to Ilot, as was tradition.

“One day, I’ll make you take the longer one,” she promised. She knew she would be fighting an uphill battle, but it wasn’t fair that she always got to take it.

“One day.” A grin played at the corner of Hoppe’s mouth, as if that was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

And so they spent the rest of the sunset huddled together by the cliffside, simply soaking in the other’s presence in silence, for there was nothing more that needed to be said. Overwhelming sweetness lingering on her tongue and happiness warming her heart, Hoppe’s shoulder steady beneath her head and her hand soft under her own.

Two childhood friends, reunited after trials and tribulations, finally able to simply share snacks as they’d done since they were children.

She could want nothing more.

#fanfiction #one shot #rotaeno #hoppe #ilot #hoppe (rotaeno)#ilot (rotaeno)#i've been procrastinating cross-posting to here lol

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nicklloydnow · 7 months

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“The other two adjustments made by the state in order to overcome its lowest point of popularity and rise to its present size have to do with interstate relations. For one thing, as explained earlier and just mentioned again by de Jouvenel, states qua monopolistic exploiters tend to get involved in interstate warfare. With their internal exploitative power weak, the desire to compensate for these losses by external expansion rises. However, this desire is frustrated by a lack of internal support. The support is created through a policy of redis-tribution, industrial regulation, and democratization. (In fact, states that do not adopt these measures are bound to lose in any long-lasting warfare!) It is this support that is used as a springboard for a realization of the state's expansionist desires.

This newfound support takes advantage of the fact that redistribution, regulation, and democratization imply a greater tangible identification of the population with a specific state and thus almost automatically lead to an increase in protectionist if not open antagonistic attitudes toward "outsiders" and that in particular state-privileged producers are by nature hostile to "foreign" competition. This support is transformed by the state and its intellectual bodyguards into a frenzy of nationalism and provides the intellectual framework for the integration of socialist-egalitarian, conservative, and democratic sentiments.

Backed by such nationalism, states begin on their expansionist course. For more than a century an almost uninterrupted series of wars and imperialist expeditions set in, each one more brutal and destructive than the previous one, with always greater involvement of the non-combative population, culminating in World War I and II but not ending with this. In the name of the socialist, conservative, or democratic nation, and by means of warfare, states have expanded their territories to sizes compared to which even the Roman Empire appears insignificant, and have actually wiped out or brought under foreign rule a steadily increasing number of culturally distinct nations.

However, not only external expansion of state power is brought about by the ideology of nationalism. War as the natural outgrowth of nationalism is also the means of strengthening the state's internal powers of exploitation and expropriation. Each war is also an internal emergency situation, and an emergency requires and seems to justify the acceptance of the state's increasing its control over its own population. Such increased control gained through the creation of emergencies is reduced during peacetime, but it never sinks back to its pre-war levels. Rather, each successfully ended war (and only successful governments can survive) is used by the government and its intellectuals to propagate the idea that it was only because of nationalistic vigilance and expanded governmental powers that the "foreign aggressors" were crushed and one's own country saved, and that this successful recipe must then be retained in order to be prepared for the next emergency. Led by the just proven "dominant" nationalism, each successful war ends with the attainment of a new peacetime high of governmental controls and thereby further strengthens a government's appetite for implementing the next winnable international emergency.

Each new period of peace means a higher level of governmental interference as compared with the previous one: internally in the form of increased restrictions on the range of choices that private property owners are allowed to make regarding their own property; and externally, as regards foreign relations, in the form of higher trade barriers and of increasingly severe restrictions on population movements (most notably on emigration and immigration). Not the least because it is based on increased discrimination against foreigners and foreign trade, any such peace contains the increased risk of the next international conflict, or pressures the affected governments into negotiating bi- or multilateral interstate-agreements aimed at cartelizing their respective power structures and thereby jointly exploiting and expropriating each other's populations.

Finally, the fourth adjustment is made necessary by the other three, and again because of the ongoing process of interstate competition, crises, and warfare. It is less of the state's own making than are redistribution, democratization, and war-making just as it is not of its own making that there is interstate-competition at all. Rather, in fashionable Hayekian terminology, it is the unintended consequence of the fact that short of one state's domination of the entire world (which is, of course, every state's dream!) the continued existence of other states keeps exerting a significant constraint on each state's size and structure.

Whether intended or unintended, this structural adjustment must also be noted if one wishes to fully understand the development that has led to the present world of statism. It is also only by mentioning this adjustment that the question why it is specifically the tax-state that has risen to world dominance is finally answered.

It is easy enough to explain how through a series of nationalistic wars during the nineteenth and twentieth century the states of Western Europe and North America could come to dominate the rest of the world and leave their imprint upon it. Notwithstanding the presently booming cultural relativism, the reason for this is the simple fact that these states were the outgrowth of societies with a superior intellectual tradition - that of Western rationalism - with its central ideas of individual freedom and private property, and that this tradition had laid the foundation for the creation of economic wealth far exceeding that existing anywhere else. Because they parasitically drew on such superior economic wealth, it is not at all surprising that these states were then able to battle all others victoriously.

(…)

Naturally, redistribution, democratization, and nationalism cannot be cited again here, for assumedly these states have already adopted such policies in order to regain internal strength and prepare for interstate warfare in the first place. Rather, just as it is the relatively stronger tradition of private property ethic that is responsible for these states' dominance over the non-Western world, so, ceteris paribus, is a relatively more liberal policy responsible for their long run success in the struggle for survival among the Western states themselves. Among them, those states which have adjusted their internal redistributionist policies so as to decrease the importance of a conservatively minded policy of economic regulations relative to that of socialistically inclined policy of taxation tend to outstrip their competitors in the arena of international politics.

Regulations through which states either compel or prohibit certain exchanges between two or more private persons as well as acts of taxation are invasions of private property rights. In pursuing both types of redistributionist policies, the states' representatives increase their own income at the expense of a corresponding income reduction for someone else. However, while by no means less destructive of productive output than taxation, regulations have the peculiar characteristic of requiring the state's control over economic resources in order to become enforceable without simultaneously increasing the resources at its disposal. In practice, this is to say that regulations require the state's command over and expenditure of taxes, yet regulations produce no monetary income for the state but only income in the form of the satisfaction of pure power lust (as when A, for no material gains of his own, outlaws that B and C engage in mutually beneficial trade with each other). On the other hand, taxation and a redistribution of tax revenue according to the principle "from Peter to Paul" increases the economic means at a government's disposal at least by its own "handling-charge" for the act of redistribution but may produce no other satisfaction (apart from the increased appreciation by the Pauls) than that of actually possessing certain economic resources and being able to expend them according to its own whims.

Clearly, interstate conflicts and war require economic means, and even more resources the more frequent and longer-lasting such events are. In fact, those states which control more ample economic resources expendable on a war-effort will ceteris paribus tend to be victorious. Hence, since a policy of taxation, and taxation without regulation, yields a higher monetary return to the state than a policy of regulation, and of taxation cum regulation, states must willy-nilly move in the direction of a comparatively deregulated economy and a comparatively pure tax-state in order to avoid international defeat.

It is this relative advantage in international politics of the tax-state over the regulatory state that explains the rise of the U.S. to the rank of the world's foremost imperial power. It also explains the defeat of such highly regulatory states as Nazi-Germany and Fascist-Italy, the relative weakness of the Soviet Union and its allies as compared to the NATO-alliance, and the recent simultaneous moves toward economic deregulation and increased levels of imperialist aggression of the Reagan and, to a lesser extent, the Thatcher governments.

(…)

It cannot be fought by a simple boycott, as could a private business, because an institution devoted to the business of expropriating and exploiting does not respect the negative verdict revealed by boycotts. It also cannot simply be fought by countering its aggression with defensive violence because the state's aggression is supported by public opinion. Thus, overcoming it depends on a change in public opinion. The private property ethic - the idea that private property is a just institution and the only means of creating economic prosperity, and the view of the state as an outcast institution that is destructive of wealth formation, must be revived and must again inspire people's minds and hearts. With the rampant statist ideologies of nationalism, democratism, and redistributionism (of either the socialist or the conservative kind), this may sometimes appear hopeless. However, ideas have changed in the past and can change again in the future. In fact, ideas can change instantaneously. Moreover, the idea of private property has one decisive attraction: it, and only it, is a true reflection of man's nature as a rational being.” (p. 69 - 75)

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