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Kotoko had experienced her fair share of disrespect. It was a part of her mission: those who won't understand will berate and torment those harbouring these concepts. It was a rule of the law for discourse to rival over the civil. Sometimes, she'd clash, but typically she left it alone. Those who didn't align with her ideals meant nothing to her. Insignificant. If any combat was to be had at all, her method was just to walk away.
There is no walking away on a plane. Sandwiched like packed sardines between strangers from different worlds than your own, hopefully not caught in the middle seat of foreign experience and unwanted connection. On one hand, Kotoko was lucky enough to avoid this dilemma entirely by taking along Fuuta, whom, as annoying as he was, knew basic etiquette for how to treat people in this aerial enclosure. He closed his eye and shut up, quite to Kotoko's liking, and completely unlike the row of middle aged women behind. Chirping and chattering at some conversation of useless debate, Kotoko pressed the tips of her fingers into her forehead. She hadn't slept in 38 hours, and neither had Fuuta, the two exhausting their resources and deciding to invest their slumber in this temporary holding period. But the tone peaked past any attempt to blast music in their ears. Like nails on a chalkboard, it jolted them both awake any time they'd start to drift.
Fuuta finally had enough as he sat up and let out a frustrated groan, purposefully loud, but to no response from the back row.
"Deaf to everyone but themselves," he nudged Kotoko to meet her gaze, met with the same amount of sleep deprived agitation he was experiencing. A rare time they're on the same side. "You'd think they've never travelled before".
Kotoko just turned over to slam her body against the seat. Ripped strands of black hair coated her hands like tar. She was pissed, and that was enough to spin her around.
"Can you in any capacity keep it down?"
She was met with gaudy laughter and a clear... disrespect situation. One of the women pulled out a pair of earbuds from the seat. "Were you missing these? You can use them."
"We can both hear you over our own music. That's a sign you're too loud," Kotoko felt a sickening heat build in her chest, "Some of us need to sleep."
"Then don't listen?"
"You didn't even try to tell us before."
"I shouldn't have to. It's very easy to be decent," Kotoko whipped back around only to hear laughter from the back row. Snickers and—intentionally loud—murmurs were announced about how absurd her comment was.
Fuuta dropped his head to the pull-out table in front of him and cupped his ear.
Kotoko had experienced her fair share of disrespect, but this four hour trap of intensive conversation past her comprehensive ability was far more grating than any critic online.