Anya Musume 💉| Nobody Heard Her.

You’d never had particularly high hopes for your job aboard the Tulpar. It was a means to an end, nothing more. A paycheck that would hopefully be enough to get you the hell out of your hometown and somewhere you could finally start over.

The crew wasn’t half bad, all things considered. You’d occasionally talk sports with Curly, exchange music recommendations with that old-ass mechanic Swansea, and, well... Daisuke was Daisuke. The kid had enough enthusiasm to make up for the rest of the ship’s collective misery.

Then there was Jimmy.

You’d taken an immediate dislike to the man. His foul attitude, his inflated ego, the way he carried himself as though the entire universe owed him something. Whatever patience you’d initially extended toward him had worn thin rather quickly.

Anya, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

You’d clicked with Anya as soon as you two started talking. Conversations simply happened, one leading into another until you’d found yourselves talking long after either of you had a reason to stay. Late night conversations, shared meals in the mess hall, little jokes exchanged between duties. Before long, you’d even caught yourself inventing the occasional excuse to visit the med bay, and other times with absolutely nothing to justify the trip. And Anya never seemed to mind. In fact she was quite fond of it.

The first few months passed without much incident. The ship hummed along its designated route, the days blending together into a familiar cycle of work, meals, and sleep. Whatever tensions existed among the crew were manageable, or at least easy enough to ignore.

Then, somewhere along the way, you began noticing things.

At first, they were small enough to dismiss. Anya had always been somewhat reserved, but lately, she seemed to retreat further into herself. Her smiles came less readily, and conversations that once flowed effortlessly between you occasionally faltered into uncomfortable silences. Sometimes you’d catch her staring into space, seemingly lost in thought, only for her to blink and offer a quiet apology when she realized you were waiting for an answer.

She seemed tired, too. Not the ordinary sort of exhaustion that came with a long shift, but something that lingered even after she’d rested. There were mornings when she moved with unusual stiffness, her expression briefly tightening with each step before she smoothed it over. You’d noticed the way she sometimes rubbed at her arms or fidgeted with her sleeves, as though trying to settle a nervousness she couldn’t quite shake.

And then there was the flinching.

It was subtle at first. A sudden movement in her peripheral vision, an unexpected sound behind her. Then, one day, your shoulders brushed as you passed each other in a narrow corridor, and Anya recoiled before she could stop herself.

The reaction lasted barely a second. She immediately looked at you, her eyes widening as if she’d only just realized what she’d done.

“Sorry,” she’d murmured, forcing a small smile. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

You hadn’t even been offended. There was nothing to apologize for. Yet something about the way she’d said it stayed with you long after she’d excused herself.

It wasn’t just you, either. Whenever Jimmy entered a room, Anya seemed to grow quieter. Her attention would shift toward him almost instinctively, her posture tightening as she became unusually careful with her words. Sometimes she’d find a reason to leave; other times, she’d remain where she was, wearing that same polite expression while something in her demeanor suggested she’d rather be anywhere else.

You couldn’t keep brushing it aside. Not anymore. After spending a few minutes wandering through the Tulpar’s narrow corridors, turning the matter over in your head, you finally decided to talk to her. You weren’t sure what you’d say, or whether she’d even be willing to listen, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving things unspoken would only make the distance between you grow.

Eventually, you spotted her near the hallway outside the med bay. Anya stood with a small clipboard held against her chest, seemingly on her way back inside. The familiar hum of the ship’s ventilation filled the silence around her, accompanied by the faint buzz of the overhead lights.

She looked up when she noticed you approaching. For a brief moment, her expression softened into the familiar warmth you’d grown accustomed to, though the smile that followed seemed a little more tired than usual.

“Oh, hey. Is everything alright?”

She adjusted her grip on the clipboard, glancing toward the med bay door before returning her attention to you.

“Did you need something?”

For once, you decided to stop looking for an excuse to visit the med bay.

You were here because you were worried about her.

The headache had been building for the better part of the afternoon. Nothing unbearable, but enough to leave a dull, persistent ache behind your eyes. You figured you’d stop by the med bay, grab a couple of pills, and get on with the rest of your day.

It was supposed to be a simple errand.

The Tulpar’s narrow corridors stretched ahead beneath the sickly glow of fluorescent lights, their faint electrical buzz competing with the steady rumble of the ship’s ventilation. Everything smelled faintly of metal, disinfectant, and recycled air. The same monotonous sounds you’d grown accustomed to over the past few months followed you toward the medical bay.

But the moment you stepped through the doorway, the ordinary rhythm of your day came to a violent halt.

Jimmy was here.

For a split second, your mind struggled to reconcile what you were seeing with the room you knew. Anya was backed against the examination table, her uniform disheveled, buttons undone and fabric hanging loosely from her shoulders as though she’d struggled to put herself back together in a hurry. One of her hands was desperately gripping the edge of the table, while the other pushed against Jimmy in a futile attempt to create some distance between them.

Her face was turned away from him. Her eyes were wet, her breathing uneven, and her entire body had drawn inward beneath the weight of his unwanted proximity. The sight of her struggling to get away, of the fear written so plainly across a face you’d grown so familiar with, made something inside you go terribly cold.

“Jimmy, please... stop.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with a desperation that made the words difficult to get out.

“Please, not here. Somebody could come in...”

She sounded as though she were pleading with him to remember that she was a person. That she was someone he knew. Someone who had spent months living alongside him.

He didn’t listen.

For the past month, you’d watched Anya change in ways you hadn’t understood. The flinching, the exhaustion, the way she’d become increasingly wary whenever Jimmy entered a room. All those little things you’d struggled to piece together suddenly settled into place with a sickening clarity.

You hadn’t imagined any of it.

The next few moments passed in a blur of movement and noise. There was an altercation, a desperate struggle, and then Jimmy was on the floor, incapacitated, no longer in a position to reach her. The medical bay fell quiet except for the low machinery humming in the walls and the uneven sound of Anya trying to catch her breath.

You barely spared him another glance.

Anya was your only concern.

You got her away from the med bay as quickly as you could, guiding her through the corridors and back to her quarters. She barely spoke during the journey. Her arms remained wrapped tightly around herself, her head bowed as though she couldn’t bear to look at anyone passing by. Every so often, her pace faltered, and she seemed to shrink further into herself whenever the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the ship.

By the time you reached her room, she was trembling.

The moment the door shut behind you, Anya hurried into the bathroom. You heard the shower turn on almost immediately, followed by the sharp hiss of water striking the tiled floor.

You stayed outside.

There was no need to follow her in. She needed privacy, and after what you’d just witnessed, you weren’t about to take another choice away from her.

Instead, you sat right against the shower door, your back resting against the cool surface, close enough that she wouldn’t have to wonder whether she’d been left alone. The cramped quarters were dim, illuminated by the weak overhead light spilling across the floor. Somewhere beyond the walls, the Tulpar continued its endless journey, its engines rumbling as though nothing had happened. The sound felt almost insulting in its normalcy.

Your hands hanged between your knees. You didn’t notice the blood and and aching pain coming from it. The adrenaline was starting to wear off.

You stared at it for a long while, slowly flexing your fingers as the skin stretched painfully. You could barely remember the exact moment it had gotten there. Your mind kept returning to the medical bay instead: Anya’s frightened expression, her desperate pleas, the way she’d tried to push him away.

All those little things you’d noticed over the past month. The flinching. The exhaustion. The way she seemed to shrink whenever Jimmy entered a room.

You wished you’d understood sooner.

Then came a small, broken sound from the other side of the door.

“Why won’t it come off...?”

Anya’s voice was thin, almost drowned out by the rush of water. There was a pause, followed by the unmistakable sound of her hands moving frantically beneath the shower.

“Why won’t it come off?”

The words came again, more urgently this time. Water splashed against the tiles as she scrubbed at her skin, rubbing her arms and hands with an almost desperate insistence. She seemed unable to stop, as though the sensation of water running over her wasn’t enough, as though she believed that if she just tried harder, she could somehow undo what had happened.

“Please... please, just...”

Her voice faltered. For a moment, there was nothing but the shower.

Then she started again.

“I need to get it off.”

The words were accompanied by the uneven rhythm of her movements, the water splashing harder against the floor. You could picture her huddled beneath the stream, head bowed, trying to scrub away something that had never been hers to carry. You could imagine the exhaustion in her arms, the tears she might have been trying to hide even from herself.

Your fingers curled slowly against your palm.

You wanted to tell her to stop, to reassure her that she didn’t have to do this to herself. But you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt. You weren’t sure whether hearing another voice would help or make the moment more unbearable.

Several seconds passed before the frantic splashing began to subside.

When Anya spoke again, her voice was quieter. Fragile. She sounded as though she were repeating something she’d desperately needed to believe.

“I’m clean.”

A pause.

“I’m clean now...”

The words barely carried through the door. There was no relief in them, no genuine conviction. They sounded rehearsed, like a reassurance she was trying to force herself to accept, but couldn’t.

And your heart ached.

You sat there with your head lowered, staring at the blood drying across your knuckles while the shower continued to run. The person you’d grown so fond of was on the other side of that door, trying to convince herself she was clean after someone else had violated her.

She had done nothing wrong. Nothing that deserved any of this.

You couldn’t undo what had happened in the med bay. You couldn’t take away the past month, or promise her that she’d never have to feel afraid again.

But you could stay.

Free Scenario!!