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itzynabi · 2 years ago

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that’s so evie episode 4

posted: 10 march 2023

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none that i can think of

an: another week, another episode of thats so evie. episode 2 will come out when it comes out, dont even worry, just give me time. idk anything about pottery, i watched this video. the challenge can be found here. words in [] are captions. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💘

eve's masterlist // that’s so evie

“Hello and welcome back to another episode of That’s So Evie!” Eve greeted from inside a pottery studio. “Today, we are at Pottery workshop Yoho. It’s my first time coming here, so I’m very excited!” She shook her hands excitedly. “Today’s guest is… unworldly? Yes, that’s the right word for him. Please come out!”

[Kpop’s Prince Charming with master class acting. Making his long awaited solo debut, Minhyun!]

The staff cheered as Minhyun walked into the frame.

Covering her mouth, Eve laughed. “Why are you cheering so loud? You don’t normally cheer this loud.”

“Do they not normally cheer?” Minhyun asked as he stood next to Eve.

“No, they do, but… they’re not usually so energetic. Do you have a crush on today’s guest?” She asked the camera director, who shook her head and waved her hand. “Then why are you so excited?”

“Because he’s pretty,” one of the technical staff answered, causing Minhyun to blush.

Eve slowly shook her head in thought. “Have you never seen a pretty person before?”

[Butterfly princess struggles to understand the staff’s excitement]

Eve eyed the staff one more time. “Anyways, today’s guest is Minhyun. Please introduce yourself to the viewers.”

Minhyun bowed. “Hello, I’m Hwang Minhyun. Thank you for having me!”

“Thank you for coming,” Eve said. “How are you feeling today?”

Minhyun put his hand over his chest. “To be honest, I’m a bit nervous,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not really sure what we’re doing today, so I don’t know if I’ll be good.”

“Since you have been described by many as a ‘living statue’,” Eve began, snorting when Minhyun cringed. “I thought we should make pottery since it will be a statue of some sort. Is that okay?”

Minhyun nodded. “Yes. I think I’ll be good with that.”

“Good! And because I have no idea how to make pottery, we are going to need some guidance. Can our teacher come out please?”

A man walked into frame and the staff cheered for him.

“Why aren’t you cheering loudly? You don’t think he’s handsome?” Eve asked, causing the staff to cheer louder.

“Aigo, you’re very mischievous, aren’t you?” The teacher asked as he stood in between the two idols.

Eve smirked.

“She is,” Minhyun answered with a nod of his head.

[Minhyun already knows Eve so well]

“Please introduce yourself,” Eve requested.

The teacher cleared his throat. “Hello, viewers. My name is Park Insoo and I will be guiding Minhyun-ssi and Eve-ssi today.”

“One of my friends is named Insoo,” Minhyun said.

[Minhyun worked with Yoo Insoo on Alchemy of Souls. Park Danggu, we miss you!]

“How good do you think we’ll do?” Eve asked.

Insoo thought for a second. “Not that good, if I’m being honest.”

[Reality check]

“But that’s fine because it’s your first time doing this. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

Eve nodded. “Also, one of the main points of the show is to just catch up with people as if you’re friends, so just address me casually.”

“Me too,” Minhyun added.

“Okay,” Insoo said. “Nabi-yah and Minhyun-ah. Got it.”

The group of three moved to a long table that had all their equipment.

“The first thing we want to do is knead the clay.” Insoo picked up his clay, Eve and Minhyun copied him. “We’re working with air dry clay and we’ll be making trays.”

“Trays?” Eve clarified.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “You can put your jewellery on it, or you can put vases on it– it’s up to you. The first thing we need to do is knead it to get rid of air bubbles. Let’s get started on kneading our clay. If it’s a bit hard to knead, then just add a few drops of water.”

The three got to working on their clay, kneading it very attentively.

“Minhyun, can you tell us about your album?” Eve asked, adding water to her clay to make it easier to knead.

“Yes. I’m making my solo debut with Truth or Lie and the title track Hidden Side. The title track is about how there’s many sides to me, but what you see is the real me,” Minhyun explained, smoothing out his clay.

She nodded appreciatively. “Sounds interesting. Which side of you would you say is your real side, though? Because you said what I, as an onlooker or a fan, see is the real you, but what is the real you.” She turned to look at him over Insoo. “Who is the real Hwang Minhyun?” She asked in a news reporter voice.

Insoo snorted. “She’s really good.”

Eve blushed, trying to use her fringe to hide her face.

“That’s a really good question,” Minhyun gushed, standing still. “Who is the real me?” He thought for a second. “I think… I don’t know,” he finished flatly, giving up on answering. He laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. I just sing the song. But that’s a very good question.”

“Right?” Insoo agreed. “Very professional.”

“This show is going to be very successful if you keep asking such amazing questions.”

Eve scrunched her face up. “Please stop complimenting me. I’m begging you.”

“Do you not like getting complimented?”

She shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t like getting complimented, it’s just I don’t know how to react and I end up feeling uncomfortable. That’s all.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

“Now,” Insoo started once he had checked Eve and Minhyun’s clay, “we’re going to use a rolling pin to roll the clay flat. Be careful not to make it too flat.”

After rolling out their clay, they cut off the extra pieces on the side. They rolled the clay once more, making it thinner and smoother.

“Trace out the shape you want your tray to be,” Insoo instructed, drawing a circle on his clay with his finger. Eve drew a water puddle shape and Minhyun drew a rectangle. After tracing the shape, they cut it out with a knife.

“What do we do with the extra clay?” Minhyun asked, holding the excess clay in his hand.

Insoo answered, “We’re going to use it now. We’ll roll it into a cylinder shape.”

“Like this?” Eve asked, rolling her clay.

Insoo nodded. “That’s perfect.”

“How long have you been making pottery?”

“Um, about thirty years.”

Eve gasped. “That’s older than Minhyun and I. You must be really old.”

Insoo laughed. “Nobody’s ever said that to my face.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, bowing her head.

[Baby chick who has no filter]

When they had all rolled their clay, Insoo cut it in half down the middle for them. They then applied water to the edge of their tray clay and put half of the rolled up clay on the water area, creating a barrier. They used a wooden stick to smooth it down, creating a seamless connection between the two clays and used their fingers to make it smooth.

“I’m doing better than I thought I would,” Minhyun said, inspecting his clay. “I really thought I was going to do bad, but I’m doing okay.”

“You’re both doing good,” Insoo complimented. “I’m impressed. Now, take your sponge, dip it in the water and ring it out. Then wipe it along your tray.”

“Are we washing it?” Eve asked.

“Kind of.” After doing that, Insoo clapped his hands. “That was really good. Now, they need to air dry.”

Eve scratched her nose and put her hands back on the table.

“You got clay on your face,” Insoo told her.

“Really?” She tried wiping it off, spreading more clay on her face. “Is it gone?”

“It’s on your hands, so the more you touch your face..”

She groaned. “Making pottery… it’s not easy. Just imagine if I tried to touch my hair. That would be the end!”

[7 days later…]

“We’re back everybody!” Eve shouted.

“How do you have so much energy?” Minhyun asked. “Even the other day, you were dancing after finishing each step.”

She shrugged. “I’m young. It’s in my nature to have energy.”

“Are you calling me old?” He asked, surprised. He looked to the staff behind the camera in shock before looking back at Eve. “How could you call me old? I’m your guest!”

“You’re so dramatic, no wonder you’re an actor,” she said, causing everyone to laugh. “Insoo, please direct us once again.”

“Yes.” He walked to a drawer and fetched their trays, putting them on the table. “As you can see, the trays have changed colour. That’s because it was fully dried.” Minhyun and Eve nodded. “Now, it’s time for the fun part: painting!”

“This is what I was looking forward to the most,” Eve admitted, holding her tray.

“Choose what colour paint you would like,” he said.

“Since you’re the guest, you should choose first,” Eve told Minhyun.

“Okay.” Minhyun picked black and white. “I googled some ideas yesterday, so I know what I want to do.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she admitted with a laugh. She picked pink, yellow and orange.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Insoo said, picking purple and blue for his tray.

The three got to painting their trays.

“Minhyun, how do you feel about being known as a top visual?” Eve asked.

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at him. “A lot of attention is put on your visuals more than anything else. Do you wish more people paid attention to you singing, dancing and acting? Or even just to you as a person?”

He stared at her. “You’re really good at this,” he said with a laugh, shaking his head. “Wah, really… wah. I–I don’t even remember the question.”

[Minhyun is amazed by Eve’s interviewing skills]

Insoo repeated the question as Eve was too busy hiding behind the counter.

Minhyun nodded. “Yes. But my visuals are what sucks people in and then they later come to know about my personality and my talents and things like that. There are times I wish people paid more attention to my work than my face, but it helps. Because I get more acting opportunities.”

Eve hummed, having stood up when Minhyun answered the question. “So basically, your face is what people see, and everything else about you is your hidden side?”

“You’re a real pro!” He exclaimed.

“I’m so impressed,” Insoo commented.

Eve shook her head. “No, it’s just basic interviewing!”

“It seems very advanced to me.”

“Aigo, no!”

They continued painting their trays until they were finished.

“Now, we let it dry and then tomorrow, we can do the final step,” Insoo said.

“This is such a long process,” Minhyun commented.

“Right,” Eve agreed. She addressed the main camera, “See you tomorrow.”

[The next day…]

“Okay, everyone, it’s our last day of working on our trays. How has it been for you?” Eve asked her two guests.

“It was so much fun, I really enjoyed myself,” Minhyun answered. “Even though it’s taken more than a week, it feels as if it happened really quickly.”

“You two are the best beginners I’ve ever taught,” Insoo said, causing the staff to cheer. “I’m really impressed by how well you did everything.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Eve thanked. “Should we finish up now?”

“Yes.” Insoo fetched their trays and put them on the table. “As you can see, the trays have been painted, but they look dull. So we’re going to add a layer of varnish to the trays to add a glossy look. Just dip your paint brush into the varnish and apply a thin layer onto the top and then the bottom. You can add another layer if you think you need to, but I don’t think we’ll need to.”

The three applied the layer of varnish to their trays, talking as they finished up their pottery. Once they finished applying it, they showed them off to the camera, Minhyun first, Insoo second and Eve last.

“Thank you for coming on the show, Minhyun and thank you for being a good teacher, Insoo,” Eve said. “Please remember to support Hidden Side a lot. See you soon, bye!”

#reactions!!

tagging: @seolboba // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea // @smh-anon

©️ kim nabi

#itzy 6th member #itzy added member #itzy additional member #itzy member au #kpop added member #kpop addition #kpop oc #kim nabi #eve kim #minhyun fluff #minhyun imagines #variety shows

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rottingmanifesto · 2 years ago

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Diesel Pyun

Overview

Diesel is based off of an alleged beta character, a Korean-American soldier who was friends with Lincoln (assuming this was prior to the development of John Donovan). So, I took the idea and ran with it, and made him my own character!

Basic

Name: “Diesel” Pyun

Nickname(s): ‘Petrol’ (by girlfriend’s friend group), ‘D-Day’ (by old military buddies)

Age/Birthday: 24 years | 02/04/1944 (10:29 pm)

Place of Birth: Ulsan, (South) Korea

Zodiac: Aquarius sun, Gemini moon, Libra rising

Current Residence: Somewhere near New Bordeaux, LA

Gender: Male..?, He/him

Orientation: Closeted bisexual

Nationality: 1st generation American

Ethnicity: Korean and Japanese

Race: Asian

Affiliations: US Marines Corp., Department of Defense, Clay crime family (loosely)

Education: high school

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Dark brown

Height: 5’11”

Body type: Meso-ectomorph, more on the lean side

Scars/marks/blemishes/etc.: various scars along chest, gut, and forearms, and a few marks on shoulders

Personality

Diesel is primarily known for his strategies, his far-stretched plans and idealism, and kind but emotionally distant mannerisms. He’s witty and has a very dry sense of humor, and finds a lot of joy in discussing the future (in terms of art, technology, music, etc.) and how he predicts things will happen. (He’s not always right, to be fair, but usually he’s in the ballpark). People who truly know him know how music helps him release emotions he cannot express with words.

MBTI & Enneagram: INxJ, 1w9

Other comments: painfully air sign. Just… painfully noticeable.

Relationships

Lincoln: war time friend, kept meeting each other in Laos and Vietnam to the point of it becoming a joke of sorts. Sees him as a younger brother sometimes, and can get annoyed by Linc’s impulsivity and emotional intensity. Acts as an emotional anchor for him and helps lighten the mood with dry humor. Also helps with Lincoln’s revenge against the Marcanos.

John: definitely a tense relationship. They respect one another, but Diesel really doesn’t care for him and thinks he’s a bit “full of it”, so to speak. They clash on many things and Diesel ultimately thinks that though Donovan is trying to be a good person, he’s failing pretty badly (in his opinion).

FJ: no strong convictions, really. Good guy, but fails to see who’s in front of him— only sees the morals or signs of a long-gone past. Kind heart, but can be a coward. Doesn’t share this opinion much at all though.

The underbosses: generally not super opinionated, but believes they’re mostly greedy, short-sighted assholes.

Dasia: respects her choices and convictions, but ultimately finds her to be too wrapped up in small details to notice the big picture. They get along alright, overall.

Canary: good kid, good sense of the future, just maybe a tad bit too passionate at times. Views them as a younger sibling of sorts and disapproves of them being involved (due to 1: being a civilian, and 2: being nineteen).

Childhood

[Data expunged.]

Story

Within the storyline in-game, Diesel enters roughly after Lincoln regains consciousness (it’s John of all people who actually calls him, but that’s a story in of itself). Despite his own mild qualms with how Lincoln is going about things, he offers his services and helps in any way he can— explanation below.

Explanation: Diesel can say “adding him to the racket would prove beneficial in (x) department” or “just kill the bastard” type stuff and/or deal with timing— primarily with Santangelo thing after killing 2 of the capos. Being able to call in and say “hey, something seems off about this part of town, Donovan heard some people chatting on the wire about a meet up. If you got business, get out of there in 2 minutes” or something of the sort.

Within a DLC I’m writing, he helps Lincoln with a not-so-minor situation (keeping that a secret for now) when John is busy with his own project.

Random

Not really a smoker. He’ll do it when someone offers him one, but doesn’t smoke much himself. He does, however, have a collection of zippos

Spoke Korean (and Japanese on rare occasion) at home and English at school/in public, still slips into Korean when he thinks he’s alone

Can swing dance, but that’s about it with dancing. He is far better with creating music

Plays violin, fiddle, piano, a bit of cello, VERY basic trumpet, and the harmonica. Is trying to learn the guitar and bass

Composes music in his spare time

Adores all kinds of music and will listen to anything at least once

Agnostic

Surprisingly enough, he’s anti-war, but he’s not vocal about his stances for a myriad of reasons (mostly because it’s unsafe for him to do so)

#diesel pyun #oc tag

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jeanjauthor · 1 year ago

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It needs to be noted that as people are racing for "sea salt" and "iodine free salt"...more and more cases of goiters and iodine deficiency have been cropping up, especially in regions where iodine is not common in the local diet.

Switzerland is high up in the mountains, so if the iodine is not already in the soil (being washed out by glacial meltwater and just never replaced & replenished very strongly), then it's also difficult to eat a lot of it in freshwater fish, which have to make a very long upstream journey past several cascades. pPior to modern international food logistics & safe, rapid transportation, seafood just wasn't on the menu, literally.

The greatest sources of iodine prior to its inclusion with tablesalt was saltwater fish, seaweed, shrimp, freshwater fish, and then you get to things like cow's milk, chicken eggs, and nuts, which could be found in Switzerland...but those latter three require iodine in the soil so that they can eat the plants that have absorbed it from that soil.

As to why iodine was included with table salt, it's because iodine imparts a special property to the salt, the ability to resist rehydration.

Prior to iodine, salt had to be kept bone dry, or it could go mushy...because if it's mushy, you cannot sprinkle it, since it becomes a moist glob. Not so bad if you're just measuring it and stirring it into a dish with enough moisture to help disperse the salinity, but terrible if you're trying to sprinkle it, especially at the dinner table. (The "salt cellar" being the source of the expression "beneath the salt" aka those who aren't fancy enough to be seated up at the high table where the container of dry salt granules was kept for salting on'es food. It was a small amount of salt specifically kept very dry so that it wouldn't clump and turn to glompy briny mush.)

Iodine added to salf--and it doesn't take much--helps keep the salt from absorbing moisture out of the air and going mushy. Thankfully, it doesn't take much iodine to keep goiters from happening, either. And since people tend to avoid too-salty food, that helps people get enough iodine, but not too much iodine, even if they're living in an area that is heavily deficient in iodine resources.

...Do you know what other country has had problems with iodine deficiency? North Korea. Their diet is so poor--starvation levels of monotony--that folks in North Korea don't always get enough iodine, and develop goiters. A lot of defectors have revealed that they have suffered from swollen necks at more than one point in their lives, especially when serving their mandatory 10 years in the military, where they cannot readily get a wider variety of food.

And in Derbyshire in England, there were issues with goiter / goitre as well, and after analyzing the soil, it was believed that the highly alkaline soil was locking up a lot of the iodine, leaving very little to be bio-available for the local plants and animals to take up into their bodies, thus leaving even less to make it into humans as well.

In Japan, the highest percentage of people who have a thyroid disease or issue is around 5%, a culture where a lot of seafood and seaweed are consumed. In America, it's 12% of the population--we might consume more cow's milk and nuts overall, but that doesn't mean they're the best sources of iodine for our diets.

Don't get me wrong about sea salt and pink salt and so on and so forth. Sometimes you want those subtle differences in flavor! (Not everyone can discern those differences, but some of us can; pink himalayan salt reminds me of being in the ceramics lab in college, lol...lots of clay dust in the air... >.>*)

But if you're not regularly eating fish, shrimp, seaweed, nuts, eggs, and/or cow's milk, you might not be getting enough iodine.

Read the article, learn a bit of medical / nutritional history, and be aware of what conditions you could be suffering from if you're not careful.

Me, I love to eat fish, shrimp, nuts, eggs, cow's milk, and seaweed snacks...but I know I am lucky to have grown up in a coastal region where seafood is a part of our culture.

Someone in the Midwest is far more likely to be iodine deficient than me. And not everyone CAN eat dairy, nuts, eggs, and/or seafood of any kind. But at least you can still get your iodine!

Cretinism and goitre were among the great medical mysteries of 19th-century Europe. The overlap of the conditions was a source of fascination, as was their geographical specificity. Scientists, medics and armchair experts flocked to the Alps, seeming to discount nothing in their investigations: landscape, elevation, atmospheric electricity, snow melt, sunlight (too much and too little), ‘miasma’, bad beer, stagnant air, incest and ‘moral failure’.

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lorcantips · 3 years ago

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How to soften hard air drying clay easily - Clay hacks & Clay Tips (Crafts Basics Series)

How to soften hard air drying clay easily – Clay hacks & Clay Tips (Crafts Basics Series)

How to soften hard air drying clay easily. This is a great clay hack that everyon needs to know. Sometimes air drying clay gets a bit … source

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2lip-charm · 2 years ago

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Singed Ends ⁠— Carnelian Companions ⊱✿⊰

Jake: Third-year animal science major w/ a minor in physics. An absolute fool in love with love. Always comes 10 minutes early to Jay's watch party. Embodiment of nervous laughter, but he always seems a little too giggly, much to Sunghoon's concern. "At least I emote."

Sunghoon: Intercollegiate figure skater. Third-year marketing major. Let Sunoo rant to him about astrology once, and now he knows too much for his liking. Coffee is essential for his survival.

Jay: Third-year film studies major. Clearly, his love language is acts of ser- Always caves in to a good steak (Jake would know). A hopeless romantic, but he doesn't know that yet.

Sunoo: Third-year communications major. Does moderately-priced astrology readings on the side. Will ask for your big three during class icebreakers. The most open about his personal views on love and soulmates—and thank the universe he is, cause his friends? They need help, and he's on his way (Can you tell he's an avid watcher of Supernanny UK?)

Niki: First year dance major. Just living his life, spreading his truth via anime debates with Jay. Pick one random thing he's seen his friends with, and voila—he gifts them an air-dried clay model of it for their birthdays. Give him hugs, always.

Yeonjun: College graduate with a bachelor's degree in fashion design. His partner is not his soulmate, but as he always says: "Love is love." Definitely a grower, according to Jake.

Taehyun: Second-year microbiology major. Jungwon of the botany club protector #1 and #1 of the expose Beomgyu, he's soft team by additional default. Endearing, but in a feral cat sorta way.

Lia: Third-year communications major. Has Niki's mini air-dry clay model of a singular Hot Cheetos chips as her keychain. Ryujin's soulmate. Thinks that their matching cat emojis are cute. Will re-direct everyone's emotional rants to Taehyun after 1 AM.

Hueningkai: Second-year vocal performance major. The carnelian companions' emotional support hand-holder. Feeds a little too much into Jake's fantasies and pining, but when has that ever hurt anyone?

Masterlist | Pale Spring Bud(dies) | Next

#enhypen smau #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #sim jaeyun smau #sim jaeyun angst #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun scenarios #sim jaeyun imagines #sim jaeyun x reader #enhypen jake smau #enhypen jake angst #enhypen jake fluff #enhypen jake scenarios #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jake x reader

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unholyhelbig · 3 years ago

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Artifice | Chapter 10: The Escape

For previous chapters, click here | To Read on A03, Click here

The leather was cool under Beca’s fingertips. It smelled of oil paints, and clove, and the faintest bit of smoke. There was salt and sun all at once. She had carried the bag everywhere with her, strung against her shoulder. There were only ever a few cotton shirts, and pants that were worth well with dirt and blood.

She kept her sketchbook, bound in the equally fine leather, close to her heart. A small section of charcoal was folded into a cloth. It was hard to come by, nearly impossible, but Beca knew the right people. Emily Junk knew the right people. She pulled strings for fine clay and even finer parchment.

They were simple gifts, but intricate. When Beca’s stomach was rolling and the ship rocked steadily against black waves, she would sit and sketch Emily, focused so fully on the maps, the charting, and the stars that they followed. Moonlight would dance across her features in pale magnificence.

She kept the sketchbook, the one that reminded her of the ocean before she met Christian and felt the sting of his open palm against her cheek, at the bottom of the bag, away from Chloe, and Aubrey, and Garrett, and the rest of the prying eyes of the world. It was her solace. It made her sick to her stomach.

Beca peeled the bag open. She didn’t’ care much for folding the clothes that she had strewn across the room in her time at the Beale Estate. They had fit just fine when they were pressed and smelling of fresh linen, they would fit just fine now.

Sadness pricked at the back of her eyes. She thought of betraying her own unspoken rules as an artist and tearing the cleanest page from her sketchbook out. She would scrawl a note in charcoal on the back, dirtying the pads of her fingertips and forgetting herself fully.

Unlike her first night here, she could navigate the hallways that were meant for staff with her eyes closed. Stacie had pressed the lanterns hours before Beca returned from the pub. The wax had hardened and the scent of ash hung stubbornly in the air.

Moonlight flitted through the kitchen. She figured she could slip through the back doors into the warmth of the night without anyone missing her too much. Her throat stung with two mugs of brew she had downed to quell her emotions at the pub. It spurred her on, told her to press forward.

Forget the commission, forget the billionaire that had wronged the seven seas, forget his siren wife with hot copper ringlets, and fair lambskin.

“You’re leaving without saying goodbye.”

The statement had no infliction behind it. Beca felt her heart in her throat and her fingers numb against the strap of her leather bag. She hadn’t moved yet, hadn’t gotten past the threshold of the patio door. She hadn’t estimated how long she stood there, counting the blades of grass, but the voice startled her.

“I have to go,” Beca said.

She turned to face Aubrey Posen. A tin mug with water rested at her side, half consumed. The blonde may have watched her as she watched the world, those cold apple-green eyes. They gave her away as human instead of an animal, focused instead of sure.

A silk robe covered her shoulders, the lavender material rich, and rarely seen by someone of her caliber. The whole estate was like that, fancy vases and sculptures, and iron workings that Beca had seen from the outside, looking in, but never the other way around.

“You’re a coward.”

She scoffed “A coward? No soy un cobarde.”

Even as she said it, she knew she was wrong. Someone who didn’t’ shy away from confrontation would have kneeled in front of the woman in the house by now- they would have told her about the band of looters, and pirates that intended on storming her personal palace.

Her face must have softened and given her away. Aubrey quirked an eyebrow, raising the mug to her lips before humming in satisfaction. It made Beca’s skin burn and her heart prickle.

“Leave, then. Making Chloe suffer by contemplating your own actions is doing more harm than good.”

Beca hated to swallow her words twice in one sitting but found herself taking the remaining three steps towards the kitchens island. Aubrey seemed to tense at the movement, dry-mouthed and thick with contempt.

“It’s for the better.”

“For you, or for her?” Aubrey lowered the mug and let out a sigh “Listen, you being here… has been good for Chloe. I thought you would be like them all, the artists. They waltz into the estate with their oils, and charcoals, and parchment, and think that they have the world at their fingertips. Instead of painting her, they use her. And she lets them.”

“I understand your hand over her, Aubrey,” Beca said.

“Hand over who?”

The two women glanced towards the opening to the kitchen. Chloe stood under the archway, her hair caught the moonlight like the rest of the kitchen, but in a deeper, cherry-colored way. She looked sleep-worn and content. That soon shifted against her features as she took in the leather satchel, the swept way Beca stared, and the fingerprints on the glass sliding door.

“You’re going,” She murmured.

The shatter of her words cut deep against Beca’s skin. She felt as if she might bleed there, bite her tongue until she swallowed mouthfuls of red. Her shoulders slumped, her resolve nearly broke. “I don’t have a choice.”

“A choice… Beca you’re here to paint. Have I scorned you that horribly with my antics that you’ve given up the fight?” She scoffed “I’ll ease on the chase. We can start tomorrow>”

She turned and glanced towards the backyard. The moonlit the path beautifully towards the ocean, and the docks, and the fire-filled lights that reflected off the waves. If she searched hard enough, she could see Emily’s ship, its red sails, and drafting architecture.

Aubrey scooped her mug up and was halfway out of the kitchen by the time Beca mustered up the courage to turn back to the woman. She hated the weight of the two of them this close to one another, standing off with nothing but a few inches between them.

“Garrett has wronged a very dangerous group of people,” Beca meant to sound powerful, strong, and sure of herself, but she wasn’t. There was a meekness to her words. “They’re planning to storm this place, to take back what is rightfully theirs.”

Chloe pursed her lips, frowning as she stared at the terracotta tiling. She had her own silk robe wrapped tersely around her, her blue eyes hard and unreadable. “My husband does not speak about his business and I am kind enough not to ask.”

“He’s robbing people, Chloe. Good innocent people.”

“Pirates.” She snapped back “the last I checked they’re the ones that pillage, and murder, and go entirely feral at the sight of a pint of ale. Garrett is doing this world well.”

“They do what they can to survive. I don’t expect you to understand.”

It came out harsher than intended. Chloe snapped her gaze up to the woman with such ferocity that it chilled her to her bones. She steadied her hand against the island, fingers white as they pressed into the countertop. “Excuse me?”

“Rich, and stubborn enough not to go with me if I asked you to.” Beca whispered, this time sure of herself “I know these people, grew up with them, love them. And they are more merciless than many. Yet you would stay to defend your home, your possessions. Your paintings.”

The words felt bitter against Beca’s tongue. As if her saliva had turned to acid. She would never speak out against the lady of a house, much less one that had offered to pay for her services. But Chloe’s world was sheltered, and it was close to crumbling.

“You never asked.” She snarled, taking another step forward, closing the gap between them. Beca could feel the anger rolling off her in waves. “You packed your things and were going to escape into the night.”

Her breath came out in a shudder, it pressed against Chloe’s collarbone, making goosebumps rise against her skin. Blue eyes flicked to her lips, to her jawline, and to her own chest heaving up and down. It would take nearly nothing to push forward and escape the space left between them.

She swallowed the hot taste in her mouth “Would you have gone?”

Chloe met her question with silence. Maybe the words were stuck in her throat, or maybe they had no place where they were to begin with. Beca frowned, fretted, and took a step back. Chloe could have held her there, tethered her to one spot. She had enough power to convince her to stand against Emily and her intent. But nothing was said. The silence dripped heavily between them.

“Give Garrett my apologies.” She said, “I pray he can find an artist to capture your likeness one day.”

Before the tears that were welling up in Chloe’s eyes could escape, Beca had turned, opened the patio door, and began to walk across the moonlit grass. There were clouds in the sky, prominent against the dark backdrop, covering the ball of light enough for her to slip through the trees that turned to swamp and swamp that stretched into an alcove.

Garrett had spared no expense, the jutting cliffs that dropped straight to the docs and choppy waves had a staircase carved into it. Metal for the same lanterns that lined the Beale estate was set up in sporadic intervals. Beca had trusted only her instinct and anger to get her down to the docks.

Emily’s ship sprouted with blue and amber lights. A man grizzled and half-drunk with the swells of the sea stood as Beca approached. He drew his sword with a slick sound of metal upon metal. The tip of the weapon found its home under her chin, close enough to slice the hair from her head.

“State your business.” He purred, lilting his head at his prize.

“Jasper,” Emily’s voice came from the deck of the ship. She leaned over the railing, having shed her leather coat, and her captain’s hat, simple and beautiful in the moonlight. The man never hesitated. “She’s fine. Come up,”

She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, running her finger over the raw spot against her throat. He could have easily sliced through the skin, could have made a meal of her before the night had even begun.

Beca scaled the rope ladder leading to the main deck of the ship. By the time she had reached the top Emily had a grin on her face, nothing short of pride and warmth. There was a subtle rocking beneath her feet that reminded her so fully of home.

“Do my eyes deceive me delicately?”

“They don’t,”

Emily furrowed her brow and lilted the woman’s head up with the curl of her finger, the opposite of the blade with her softness, and tender stare. “You’re sure about this? I can get you off the island.”

“I’ve already turned my back once tonight. No puedo hacerlo de nuevo. I wish to join you.”

The captain withdrew her touch, worry etched into her features, catching every spare light that the night sea had to offer. Her eyes flitted to the last remaining glow in the kitchen of the Beale Manor, entirely visible from the docks. Past the trees, and the hedges, and the swamps, she could have sworn she saw a woman, backed by a lantern, and forlorn with fear.

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #Bechloe #Fanfiction #Historical au

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thefinalcinderella · 3 years ago

Text

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 10 - Shooting Star (Part 1)

We finally made it...we’re in the endgame now...

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. My Grandfather’s Clock is a popular song written by Henry Clay Work in 1876. The 2002 version by Ken Hirai was especially popular in Japan

Previous | Next

January 3rd, 5 a.m.

Yuki was in a dimly lit room in the Ashihara Ryokan. He changed into his Kansei University uniform and jersey and picked up his bench coat.

Two hours had already passed since Yuki woke up. After breakfast and a bath courtesy of the ryokan that took place at a time that could be better called late night, Yuki returned to the room where he had spent the night once the food in his stomach digested properly.

It was a night where he wasn’t sure if he had slept or not. However, his mind was clear and lucid. Excitement and tension became sharp blades that pared his body, and he felt somewhat light.

My energy is high, Yuki thought. He had felt the same way when he passed the bar exam. He read the questions for the essay exam and wrote his answer. It was almost funny how the meaning of the questions soaked into his brain, and before he could even think about how to answer them, the answer sheet was filled with words; it was just like automatic writing. He had never been able to output so smoothly what had been inputted into him until that moment, as though his consciousness had become clear and his sixth sense was working.

He knew that the same moment of elation and focus was about to visit his body and mind.

The return leg of the Hakone Ekiden started at 8 a.m. Yuki would slowly warm up over the next three hours, in order to build up his energy levels. It was Yuki’s method to relax and relieve his nervousness for two hours, and then concentrate on warming up for the remaining hour. Ever since the time when he was confronting his bar exam, Yuki preferred to increase the intensity of his concentration at this pace.

The six-mat guest room was completely occupied by the three futons laid out on the floor. Shindou, wearing his mask, was breathing faintly in his sleep. Yuki gently put his hand on his forehead and found it was still a little hot. The landlord was grinding his teeth as he slept soundly.

Yuki lightly folded his futon and put it in a corner so as to not wake them. Standing by the window, he quietly pulled back the curtains: the cozy garden of the ryokan was covered with a light dusting of snow, and ashy snowflakes continued to fall from the dark sky.

Yuki had never been skiing before. He didn’t understand going to the trouble of sticking boards to your feet in a cold place in a cold season. He thought it would be better to spend that time on one’s studies, and more than that, living with a single mother, they had no money to spend on fun.

Can I run down a steep, snow-covered slope? I can’t say I don’t want to run in the sixth leg at this point. Should I have at least experienced skiing if it’s like this?

The window was immediately fogged up by Yuki’s breath. The room was slightly warm from Yuki, Shindou and the landlord's combined body heat.

It’s not just me, Yuki reminded himself. In the past few years, there has never been snow on the roads of Hakone at New Year’s. Most of the runners—no, maybe all of them—have never gone down the mountain roads of Hakone covered in snow. Everyone lacks experience. I can run. I can run.

Chanting that in his mind as though to convince himself, Yuki picked up Kansei’s sash from the alcove. It seemed to still be damp from absorbing the sweat of the five people who had run in the outbound leg.

After carefully folding the sash and putting it in his jersey pocket, Yuki quietly left the guest room.

He walked through the corridor to the front door and saw the ryokan’s proprietress holding a newspaper.

“Oh, you’ve already changed?”

“Yes. I’ll be warming up from now on.”

“Outside?” Looking at the still-dark front of the building, the proprietress furrowed her brow in concern. “It’s minus five degrees right now.”

Yuki had planned to go outside, but he quickly changed his mind. He would have to wait until the temperature rose a little, or his muscles would stiffen up from the cold.

“May I borrow this space?”

He pointed at the empty lobby, and the proprietress graciously said, “By all means.

“Do you want to read the paper? I asked them to deliver it earlier today.”

While reading the newspaper, Yuki sat down on the floor of the lobby and began to stretch. He exhaled and began to relax his muscles and joints.

The paper had a big spread on the outbound leg of the Hakone Ekiden. Bousou University won the outbound leg by a narrow margin. It was a close race where it was impossible to tell if Rikudou University would make a comeback in the return leg, or which school would take the overall victory.

There was also a mention of Kansei under the headline “A Challenge with Only Ten People”. There was a photo of Shindou, unsteady and desperately trying to run on the mountain roads. Yuki opened his legs and brought his upper body down while reading the article.

“With only ten members, Kansei University unexpectedly put on the brakes in the fifth leg. They dropped down drastically in the rankings and ended the outbound leg in eighteenth place. However, with ace runners such as Kurahara, a freshman, and Kiyose, a fourth-year, in the return leg, there are still plenty of opportunities for a comeback. All eyes will be on the development of this small team’s great challenge.”

At the end of the article, there was a signature (布). It’s Nunoda-san, Yuki thought. The reporter Nunoda, who had come to Lake Shirakaba during summer vacation, had continued to keep an eye on Kansei.

There are still more than enough opportunities. We believe that, but it’s reassuring to have a third party say so as well. Yuki put the newspaper on the rack in the lobby and silently worked on stretching.

It was 6 when Shindou appeared in the lobby. He was wearing Musa’s bench coat and a mask. “Good morning,” he said in a hoarse voice, and pushed on Yuki’s back to help him stretch.

“You should be sleeping.”

“I asked Musa to give me a wake-up call because I knew you would be thoughtful like that.” Shindou sat down next to Yuki. “It’s snowing.”

“Yeah.”

The two watched the fluttering snow through the lobby window.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. What about you?”

“I’m feeling much better.”

Yuki began doing sit-ups. Shindou lightly held his ankles still.

“To tell you the truth,” Yuki murmured, “I’m getting uncomfortably nervous. I want to run away, if I could.”

“I was the same way,” Shindou laughed under his mask. “Why don’t you try listening to some music? I took it from your luggage without asking.”

Yuki took the iPod Shindou gave him and put the earphones in his ears. He listened to his favorite songs for a while, but today, the world of sound was no comfort to Yuki.

“It’s no use.” Yuki tore out his earphones. “When I’m running, it feels like music I don’t like is playing through my head incoherently and endlessly. And it’s music that you can’t even get into! Like My Grandfather’s Clock (1) and stuff like that!”

“You hate it?”

“I don’t like irritating things.”

“I think it’s a good song, though,” Shindou said, and Yuki stood up with a “hmph.” Looking up at Yuki, who was rotating his ankles, Shindou made a suggestion.

“No matter what song plays in your head, you can always arrange it so it’s up-tempo.”

“Shindou, you’re amazing.” Yuki was deeply impressed. “I’m filled with worries. All I can think about are bad things like, what if I fall down the slope, or what if my shoelaces get torn off.”

“Yuki-senpai, you can even aim for the sectional prize.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’ve always accomplished what you said you would do. Whether it’s the bar exam or the Hakone Ekiden, you said you’ll do it, and you did.” Only Shindou’s eyes were smiling. “So say it this time too. That you’re aiming for the sectional prize.”

As though pushed by Shindou’s quiet force, Yuki said, “I am.”

“Yes, then it’s fine now. You will definitely run a good time.”

Yuki looked down at Shindou, who was nodding in satisfaction, and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know how useless I was yesterday,” Yuki said. “I knew you were experiencing this pressure before the race, but I couldn’t support you like this.”

“No matter how much support I get, in the end, I’m the only one who can bounce back from the pressure.” Shindou also stood and prompted Yuki. “Let’s jog.” The two put on their shoes at the door and went outside. There was no sign of the sunrise anywhere, but birds were singing in the mountains. The fine snow felt dry against their cheeks.

“But yesterday, you stayed by my side until the very last moment before I started running, Yuki-senpai. That gave me a lot of strength.” Shindou pulled down his mask and breathed in the cold air. “That’s why, I’ll stay with you today. I’ll stay with you until you start.”

Yuki didn’t have any words to respond. He was simply happy, and watched Shindou put his mask back on.

“We’ll freeze if we stay in one spot. Let’s run.”

“By the way, how’s the landlord?”

“He said he’s going to take a morning bath.”

“He’s in a sightseeing mood, that person.”

“His nighttime teeth grinding was very loud, wasn’t it?”

They chatted about trifling things as they jogged, and Yuki and Shindou's white breaths flowed shakily along the dark, snowy lakeside path.

---

Kakeru was feeling restless.

Kiyose was acting strange. When Kakeru invited him to go jogging after breakfast, he refused, saying, “Go ahead. I’ve got a lot of calls to make.”

It’s definitely strange that Haiji-san didn’t do his morning jog. He didn’t seem to sleep well last night either. I wonder if his leg hurts.

After running around Yokohama Station for about thirty minutes, Kakeru decided to go back to the hotel. He could still warm up at the relay station. He had never cut a jog short before, no matter how sick he was, but right now he was worried about Kiyose. He wondered if he was planning on pushing himself too hard. As if spurred on by a bad premonition, Kakeru ran back to the hotel.

In the lobby of the small business hotel, Jouji was opening a sports newspaper while watching the weather forecast on TV. Noticing Kakeru running across the lobby and pushing the button for the elevator, he came up to him and said, “You’re early.

“Your jogging time was unusually short today.”

“Where’s Haiji-san?”

“I think he’s in his room. Prince-san and Hana-chan are organizing their luggage together. I was chased away. I can sense that he’s trying to keep me away from Hana-chan.” Jouji pouted in dissatisfaction, but Kakeru wasn’t listening anymore. He rode the elevator to the fifth floor. “What’s going on?” Jouji asked as he followed him.

Kansei had three rooms: Kakeru and Kiyose’s room was at the far end of the corridor, Jouji and Prince’s was next to theirs, and Hanako’s room was near the elevator.

After exiting the elevator, Kakeru passed a man in the hallway. He was in his late thirties and carrying a large black bag in his hand. Thinking that it looked like a house call bag, Kakeru turned around with a start. The doors to the elevator the man got into were just about to close.

That wasn’t a guest just now. That was a doctor. Kakeru had a hunch. He must be the doctor who came to examine Haiji-san’s leg.

“Haiji-san!”

Kiyose was sitting by the window near the two beds. He looked up in surprise at Kakeru’s menacing attitude, and Kakeru sprang at him.

“Let me see your leg, let me see it!”

Kiyose fell down onto the bed, pushed by the momentum. Kakeru didn’t care and tried to pull up the cuff of Kiyose’s track pants.

“Just calm down, Kakeru! I’ll explain!”

Jouji was standing in the doorway of their room, watching in amazement as Kakeru and Kiyose grappled with each other. Noticing the commotion, Prince and Hanako came out of the room next door.

When Hanako asked, “What’s this all about?” Jouji tilted his head to the side.

“Uh, I have no idea.”

Kiyose finally pulled Kakeru off of him and beckoned everyone in the doorway to come in. The group that had stayed in Yokohama gathered in the room and sat down on the beds and chairs of their choice.

“Haiji-san, there was a doctor in this room a while ago, wasn’t there?” Kakeru sat on the bed and questioned Kiyose.

“There was,” Kiyose admitted as though he could see that there was no way out of this. “It was the doctor who always examines me. I asked him to make a house call and he gave me some painkillers.”

“The leg you said you injured—did it not heal?” Prince asked in shock. Jouji and Hanako had never even heard that Kiyose was injured, and they looked at each other in disbelief.

“What are you going to do?” It was all Kakeru could do not to let his voice tremble.

“Of course I’m running.”

“Are you okay with being so reckless?”

“If I’m not going to be reckless now, then when?”

“If…” Kakeru hesitated to put it into words. He was afraid that if he said it aloud, it would become reality.

“What if you can’t run for the rest of your life because of your recklessness today?”

He saw Jouji gasp and Prince hanging his head. Hanako didn’t move, only watching the course of Kiyose and Kakeru’s exchange.

Kakeru stared fixedly at Kiyose and waited for a response.

“It would be very painful,” Kiyose’s voice was quiet, and Kakeru knew that he had been thinking about that for a long time already. “But I won’t regret it.”

There’s no stopping him, Kakeru thought. If he were in Kiyose’s position, he would still choose to run.

Kakeru made up his mind. If that’s the case, then there’s only one thing I can do: to put as little burden on Haiji-san as possible, I should gain as much time as I can in the ninth leg.

The silence that enveloped the room was broken by Kiyose's phone ringing. He hung up after a short conversation.

“That was Shindou. The final entries were announced at Lake Ashi. Just as expected, Rikudou put Fujioka in the ninth leg.”

Jouji looked at Kakeru with both anticipation and worry in his eyes. “Okay,” Kakeru murmured. Blood was rushing through his body, and his heart was beating with joy and a fighting spirit; the day had come when they could finally compete in the same place. At the TSU meet in spring, he had only chased Fujioka’s back, but it was finally time to test how fast and strong he had become since then.

“Kakeru, don’t lose the race,” Kiyose said. Kakeru nodded determinedly.

It was past 7 in the morning.

They had to leave the hotel now. From now on, they were to split up: Kakeru and Jouji were going to the Totsuka relay station; Kiyose and Prince were going to the Tsurumi relay station; Hanako was going to Otemachi, the finish line.

“Are you okay with Jouji attending you? I can go with you, if you’d like,” Prince asked Kakeru, but he didn’t understand the intention of his question at all.

“Why? It’s fine as we planned.”

Even though his generous consideration was turned down, Prince didn’t seem offended at all, instead laughing and shaking his head lightly as though to say, “Good grief.”

When they reached the Yokohama Station premises, Kiyose said to Kakeru, “About what you said earlier.

“The situation isn’t as serious as you think. The painkillers are working, and I’m not beyond recovery.”

“Is that really true?”

“Have I ever lied?”

“Quite a lot.”

Kiyose frowned at the sky for a few moments, seemingly recalling his past acts.

“Don’t worry. I’m telling the truth this time,” he smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing you run at Tsurumi.”

He felt like he wanted to say something to Kiyose—his gratitude, worry, and determination. But they were feelings that would never take shape no matter how many words he spent on them, so Kakeru only said, “I’ll hand you the sash not a second late.”

The group raised their hands a little to say goodbye, and then headed up the stairs to the platform to go to their respective places.

---

8 a.m.

As the starting gun sounded from Lake Ashi, the Bousou runner started running first. One minute and thirty-nine seconds later, the Rikudou runner followed.

One after another, the runners from each school left Lake Ashi with their sashes, with a time difference reflecting the times they had finished at Lake Ashi in the outbound leg. This time, the return leg of the Hakone Ekiden was beginning, heading for Otemachi, Tokyo.

Schools with more than ten minutes of difference from the outbound leg leader, Bousou, would start together ten minutes after Bousou began the return leg. In this year’s race, five schools had to start at the same time: the federation selected team, Eurasia University, Kansei University, Tokyo Gakuin University, and Shinsei University.

Kansei had a time difference of eleven minutes and fifty-three seconds with Bousou. Even though they would start the race simultaneously after ten minutes, the extra one minute and fifty-three seconds would not be discarded and would be automatically added to their overall time. Because of the simultaneous start, the visible order in which the runners were running and their orders by their times might differ from each other for the return leg.

In the return leg, especially for lower ranked teams, the competitors must not only look at the race’s development before their eyes, but also keep in mind the complicated time calculation, and try to fight calmly to raise their actual rankings as much as possible.

I’m made for this, Yuki thought. Rather than competing against others, he preferred to think about how to achieve his goals by developing countermeasures and how to show off his abilities while doing that. The sixth leg of the Hakone Ekiden, the mountain descent, suited his personality; he didn’t have to be misled by the apparent rankings, he just had to use his skills to run down the winding slope against the invisible enemy called time.

Just as he had declared, Shindou stayed by Yuki’s side the entire time before his departure. He helped him stretch, massaged his calves to prevent them from stiffening up in the cold, and conversed with him casually. Thanks to him, Yuki was able to calm his mind and focus on the race.

When the time came to set off, Yuki took off his bench coat and left it with Shindou. The temperature at Lake Ashi was minus three degrees Celsius. There was still powder snow in the air. The road surface was covered in snow and the ruts were frozen. Even with a long-sleeved T-shirt under his uniform, there was no way to prevent the cold from pressing down on him. The lack of wind was the only saving grace.

Jounan Bunka University was the last team that was able to start according to its time difference with Bousou. After being called by the staff member, the teams hurriedly lined up at the start line to start simultaneously.

Yuki looked at the crowd of people next to him. Shindou was almost swallowed up by the waves of spectators, but he was watching Yuki firmly.

“We’ll meet at Otemachi,” Yuki said. It might not have reached him, having gotten lost in the cheers, but Shindou was nodding.

Ten seconds after Jounan Bunka, the runners from the five teams started running at the same time on cue. Yuki’s glasses immediately fogged up from his body heat, but he soon regained his clear vision thanks to the cold wind blowing.

The road surface was covered with a thin layer of snow, making it nerve-wracking to even walk on flat surfaces, but running on it, there was no time to check your footing. Every step he took, the sherbet-like snowflakes bounced off his legs. Even the lightest shoes with the latest features couldn’t prevent the soles from slipping slightly as they kicked the surface.

The first four kilometers from the lakeside road to the highest point of Route 1 were mostly uphill. Of the five teams that had started at the same time, Eurasia was in front and Yuki didn’t hesitate to follow him. When he checked his watch at the first kilometer, his pace was less than three minutes and twenty seconds.

On the way up, he was a little too fast considering the poor road conditions. But if he didn’t go all out here, then there was no way Kansei would be able to improve their ranking in the return leg. Besides, Yuki thought, among the runners assigned to the sixth leg, the Rikudou runner was the only one who has a record of twenty-eight minutes for the ten-thousand meter. In other words, the runners in the sixth leg don’t put much emphasis on speed.

From the highest point to the town of Hakone-Yumoto, almost the entire sixth leg was downhill. Even if your time on flat surfaces wasn’t good, you could still go fast on the downhill if you gathered momentum. What was important was the dexterity to change your running style depending on the ups and downs, a sense of physical balance, and the boldness to run downhill without fear.

Even if he entered the first uphill slope at a somewhat fast pace, he would be able to conserve enough stamina. With this judgement, Yuki didn’t recoil.

They left the lakeside and headed up the path towards the mountains. There was one small up-and-down right before the highest point. As they approached the first descent, Yuki looked at his watch again. Kiyose had instructed him to run at a pace of three minutes and twenty seconds per kilometer on the way up, but he was now going at a pace of three minutes and fifteen seconds per kilometer.

I can do it. He was convinced. His body felt light and he was able to asjust his footwork according to the ups and downs without even thinking about it.

Tokyo Gakuin University and Shinsei University were already about to be shaken off from the lower-ranked group, which was now composed of six schools as it had absorbed Jounan Bunka, who had departed ahead of them.

All Yuki could think about was overtaking as many schools as possible in front of him. The cold didn’t bother him anymore. He climbed to the highest point in one go.

The downhill slope, which stretched for nearly fifteen kilometers, awaited him, meandering on and on beyond the falling snow.

---

“Isn’t he going too fast?”

Watching the portable TV, Kakeru arrived at the Totsuka relay station with Jouji. The screen showed Yuki and the others passing in front of the main gate of the Flower Center, the five-kilometer marker.

“But I heard that the normal pace for the sixth leg is five kilometers in around thirteen minutes?” Jouji said in his usual carefree way, but it didn’t ease Kakeru’s concerns. It was the pace after you got into the descent in earnest—it was hard even for a runner himself to hold back his speed once he was completely going downhill. Once your body got into the rhythm of the descent, it wasn’t impossible to run down a hundred meters in fifteen seconds. In the sixth leg, despite the long distance of 20.7 kilometers, the speed in some places was comparable to that of a short distance run.

However, even though the first five kilometers were uphill and the road conditions weren’t good, he was running in sixteen minutes. Even with Yuki’s running ability, it seemed to Kakeru that this was clearly an excessive pace.

“I’ll call Haiji-san.”

Kakeru took out his phone from his jacket pocket.

“You worry too much,” Jouji said, shrugging a little.

“Yes, this is Kiyose.” The phone immediately relayed Kiyose’s voice along with the bustle from outside. It seemed that he had already arrived at the Tsurumi relay station.

“Are you listening to the radio?”

“Prince’s phone has a TV function. He also found out about it just now. We’re watching it. It’s amazing what you can do with a cell phone these days.”

“Yes. No, not about that…” Prince’s slow pace and Kiyose’s hopelessness with technology made Kakeru feel dizzy. “Isn’t Yuki-senpai running a little too fast?”

“Yeah. I would call the landlord, but there’s no point—the coach cars don’t stay close to the runners on the mountain roads of Hakone.”

“What should we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do. The rest is the descent. It would be foolish to slow down now, so we can only pray that Yuki doesn’t slip and fall,” Kiyose let out a light laugh, as though he had gotten over all his worries. “Anyways Kakeru, make sure to jog and warm up properly. I have to get in touch with Nico-chan-senpai and King now, so we’ll talk later.”

The call ended, and Kakeru let out a sigh.

“I told you it’s fine,” Jouji took the phone from Kakeru. “You need to trust us a little more.”

“Trust, huh,” Kakeru began to rotate his ankles and prepare for a jog. “Come to think of it, Katsuta-san said that too.”

“H-Hana-chan?” Jouji immediately turned red. “Why are you bringing up Hana-chan?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Are you doing that on purpose or are you really that airheaded?” Growing impatient with Kakeru’s pointless reply, Jouji turned to him again. “Hey, you know, I like Hana-chan.”

“I know.”

“You know!? How?”

“Nico-chan-senpai said it on the phone yesterday.”

Even when we’re apart from each other, we can still be overheard just as well as when we’re in Chikusei-sou, Jouji grumbled.

“What about you, Kakeru?” He asked the question he wanted to ask the most: “Is it okay if I confess to Hana-chan?”

Why do you need to check with me for that? It seems that the residents of Chikusei-sou are convinced that I like Katsuta-san. Kakeru, pondering up to that point, felt a jolt to his heart like the feeling of falling during the first stage of sleep.

I like Katsuta-san.

It was partly because he was so dense that he couldn’t even laugh at the twins, but it was a feeling that had been in his heart so quietly and naturally that he hadn’t been aware of it until now.

Kakeru had always kept Hanako’s figure carefully in his memory. The color of her scarf on the night they walked together. The profile of her face when she watched them train under the sky where summer clouds were rising. The first time he saw her, her thin back as she pedalled her bike through the shopping district.

Kakeru was looking at Hanako. And all that time, her eyes and thoughts were solely on the twins.

“Now I get it.”

Kakeru was shocked at his feelings that had finally become clear.

“…What are you talking about?” Jouji nervously asked, seemingly thinking that it was creepy how he had suddenly zoned and then nodded to himself.

“No,” Kakeru shook his head. “I think you should just confess to her.”

It wasn’t an act of bravado, but a feeling of clarity. He was sure that Hanako would be happy to know Jouji’s feelings. Perhaps she would be equally pleased with a confession from Jouta, and there might be a quarrel there. But that wasn’t Kakeru’s business.

This wasn’t a competition. Hanako’s heart belonged to her. Jouji’s heart belonged to him as well. It was the same as how Kakeru’s heart only belonged to him. It was a domain that was free from all standards and measures, something no one could steal or bend.

It was satisfying to know that there was a gentle but strong feeling within him that had nothing to do with speed or victory or defeat. Hanako, who taught him those feelings, seemed more and more important to him. Kakeru would be happy if her love was realized.

Also, I’m used to long-distance running. I’m good at patiently waiting for an opportunity. Even if Hanako has feelings for the twins right now, you can’t state definitively that it’ll be forever.

“I see, I guess it’s better to tell her. Uwah, what should I do, I’m so nervous.”

Jouji was determined to confess his feelings to Hanako without any hesitation, not realizing that Kakeru, who was patient when it came to the important things, was chewing on his first realization of love like a ruminating cow.

---

Yuki was smoothly descending the mountain.

In the beginning, he tried to run on the ruts because he was afraid of slipping on the frozen snow, but then he couldn’t steer a good course through the turns. Too much concern about slipping would cause him to put pressure on his muscles, which would make it all come to nothing. In the end, Yuki decided to run and take the course as usual.

Running downhill is fun, Yuki thought. To be able to feel such acceleration with my own body. His speed was so fast that even the soft snowflakes hitting his face from the front hurt like pebbles. While balancing with his whole body, he followed the slope as it led him forward. His fear of falling down didn’t cross his mind at all in the face of the pleasure of speed.

The front of Kowakien was the ten-kilometer point of the sixth leg. It was also a TV relay point. Even though the weather was bad and it was early in the morning, there were spectators along the roadside cheering for them. Following the Eurasia runner, Yuki turned to the right, and he could hear the watery footsteps of the Shinsei runner right behind him.

Yuki, of course, had no way of knowing, but the announcer and the commentator Yanaka were watching the live feed and commentating on the running of the athletes from each school.

“The footage of the lower-ranked teams at the ten-kilometer mark is coming in. What do you think, Yanaka-san?”

“They’re going at quite a fast pace. I thought that the section prize for the sixth leg would go to Manaka, who is steadily improving their rank from twelfth place, but there is a possibility that it will go to one of the lower-ranked teams.”

“According to the data at hand, except for Tamura-kun of Rikudou, all the runners in the sixth leg have an official record in the twenty-nine-minute range for the ten-thousand meters.”

“When it comes to the mountain descent, the time on flat surfaces is not that important. If you can run ten-thousand meters in the twenty-nine-minute range, then the rest is all down to guts.”

“Guts, you say?”

“Yes. The speed and incline the runners experience is much more than what you see on the screen. It’s like pedalling a bike down a steep slope with both hands free. And today, the footing isn’t good. It’s crucial to calmly keep your balance and have the guts to keep your momentum going.”

“Which of the lower-ranked teams do you think is closest to the section prize?”

“I still don’t know yet, but I like Iwakura-kun of Kansei. He has a very stable lower body. His upper body doesn’t sway unnecessarily, and he doesn’t flinch from running down bad roads at all. He is an excellent example of how to run downhill.”

“I see. The rest would depend on their persistence when the road becomes flat after Hakone-Yumoto. They've passed the ten-kilometer TV relay point.”

As they descended in altitude, the snow turned into sleet mixed with rain and the road became covered with a sherbet-like muck. Yuki realized that he had crossed the width of the crosswalk in two steps.

The current crosswalk was probably four meters wide. If he had crossed it in two steps, then that meant he had gone two meters in one step. Yuki was once again shocked at himself—his acceleration was incredible. He had gained momentum and was literally running as if he were flying, and his stride was widening as a result. He glanced at his watch: for the past five kilometers, he had been running downhill at a pace of two minutes and forty seconds.

One kilometer in two minutes and forty seconds. It was a time Yuki couldn’t achieve on flat ground. As far as he knew, the only person who could sustain such a pace for five kilometers on level ground was Kakeru.

The branches of the cedar trees on the roadside were piled with pure white snow. The trunks were black and wet, and the mountains had been transformed overnight into a beautiful, monochromatic world. As soon as they appeared in the corner of his eye, they streamed backwards, smoother and faster than in a movie.

So, this is the world Kakeru normally experiences. Yuki had a lump in his throat.

Kakeru, you’re in a very lonely place, aren’t you? The wind rumbles loudly in your ears, and all the scenery passes by you in an instant. It feels so good that I never want to stop running, but it’s a world you can only experience alone.

For the first time, he understood why Kakeru was so devoted to running, sometimes to the point of overdoing it. If Yuki were allowed to run at such a speed, he would certainly indulge in it like an addict. He wanted to see the world in quicker, even more beautiful instants. Perhaps that was a momentary experience, almost like an eternity. However, it was too dangerous—it was a world that was too beautiful, too harsh to challenge with a flesh and blood body.

Now I’m just looking at the gate that would lead me there from a distance, with the help of the mountain roads of Hakone, Yuki thought. He knew that he wouldn’t get any closer.

Dragged in by Kiyose’s enthusiasm, Yuki’s life had been centered around running for the past year. But that life was coming to an end today. I have my own way of life. I don’t want to aim for momentary beauty and exaltation, sharpening my mind and body day after day. I want to choose to live among people, even if I’m covered in filth. That’s why I passed the bar and am trying to become a lawyer.

Today’s the end. But I’m glad I experienced this speed for the first and last time. Yuki smiled slightly as he sped along the mountain road. Kakeru, don’t go too far. What you’re aiming for is a beautiful place, but it’s lonely and quiet. So much that it doesn’t suit a living person.

It would be nice if there’s something to tie Kakeru’s soul to the earth, Yuki thought. In people’s lives, in people’s joys and sorrows. It’s only by planting his feet on the ground that Kakeru would definitely become even stronger. Balance was essential. It was the same as running down a snowy mountain road.

As Yuki entered the Miyanoshita Hot Spring Village and passed in front of the Fujiya Hotel, he saw something unexpected and let out a short cry.

“Uwah!”

In front of the hotel, there were many guests waving Hakone Ekiden flags. Some of them were dressed lightly in yukata and padded kimonos, shouting their voices hoarse even as they shrank back from the cold. Among them, Yuki saw his mother, his younger sister who was only half related to him, and his mother’s second husband.

“Yukihiko!” his mother shouted loudly.

“Onii-chan, do your best!” His young sister leaned forward, and his stepfather, who was holding her, nodded firmly.

“This is so embarrassing…”

He passed by the hotel in a few moments, but Yuki ran for a while with his head down. Did my family elegantly spend the New Year’s at that hotel? Yuki snarked inwardly to cover up his embarrassment. They probably knew I wouldn’t be able to come by even if they invited me, so they planned to surprise me by not saying anything. Even so, it’s too bad for my heart. I hope the TV and radio didn’t pick up the voices and figures of Mom and the others. Nico-chan-senpai would definitely make fun of me if he knew. Well, he should only have a radio, so I think I’ll be fine.

Yuki suddenly felt happy. That look on Mom’s face just now. She looked desperate and tearful, like she was the one running.

Yuki didn’t remember his biological father. He had died in an accident right after he was born, so his only memories of his father were in his mother’s words and photos. Since his father’s death, Yuki had only lived with his mother, and he treasured her very much. His high school girlfriend had once said to him, “Yuki, you’re a mama’s boy, aren’t you?” Of course I am, Yuki thought. A son who doesn’t take care of his mother isn’t a good son.

Perhaps because he grew up watching his mother work late into the night, Yuki set his sights on his goals early on. He wanted to get a steady job so that he could make his mother’s life easier. Fortunately, he had confirmed during his school life that his brain wasn’t half-bad. If that was the case, then it would be easy to aim for the bar exam, which was called the strongest qualification. He thought that being a lawyer, where he could work between logic and emotion, would be suitable for him, and more importantly, it seemed to make a lot of money. As soon as Yuki entered high school, he began preparing for the exam on his own. He studied hard and worked on his stamina. He thought that he should be well-versed in the inner workings of relationships between men and women, so he went out with girls.

However, something happened that made Yuki’s efforts all come to nothing: his mother remarried. Her new husband was an office worker who earned a decent wage, so his mother didn’t have to work anymore. She loved her new husband and seemed to be very happy. His stepfather was easily able to do more for her than Yuki had ever wanted to do for his mother.

Yuki couldn’t help but feel devastated. He had his pride, and when he decided to do something, he had to finish it, so he didn’t give up on passing the bar exam. However, it was all in vain now. The following year after his mother remarried, she had his little sister. This was also a situation that made Yuki, who was in his late teens, feel awkward and uncomfortable. When he got into university, he left home and rarely came back, even at New Year’s.

Seeing his family cheer him on made the trivial pent-up feelings he had melt away. As though to match that, the snow had completely transformed into rain.

Both his stepfather and his sister had always cared for Yuki as a member of the family. And most importantly, his mother was happy. That’s all that matters. That’s exactly what I’ve always wanted. It would be childish of me to keep sulking about the fact that my mother became happy in a slightly different way than I envisioned.

Yuki laughed, unnoticed by anyone else, in the midst of his white and billowing exhalation. Before he knew it, he caught a glimpse of the Teitou University runner's back at the end of the turn. He couldn’t sense anyone behind him; he seemed to have pulled away from the lower-ranked teams he had started the race with.

He looked at his watch and confirmed that he hadn’t slowed down his pace at all. His mind and body felt light. He could go the rest of the way downhill at this pace. What was important was whether or not he could keep up this running for the last three kilometers of flat ground after Hakone-Yumoto. Kiyose had given him advice yesterday.

“After a downhill slope, even flat ground feels like going uphill. That’s when the real battle begins.”

I think I’ll be okay, Yuki answered in his mind. I have no intention of losing today—to the battle between me and my body and mind.

---

The drums were still beating at the Odawara relay station. In front of Kazamatsuri Station, there were many people crowded into the kamaboko company's parking lot, waiting for the arrival of the sixth leg athletes.

“Did you see that, Jouta? Yuki’s face was there just now!”

Nico-chan had directly witnessed the scene in front of Fujiya Hotel with the TV function of his cell phone. It was only when Haiji called him earlier that he realized he could watch TV on Jouta’s phone as well. Even Nico-chan, who was knowledgeable about computers, only used his phone for calling, and Jouta only used his for texting. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t interested in the evolution of machines that he could be satisfied with the rundown apartment.

“Yuki-senpai’s mom is young and beautiful,” Jouta said, biting into a rolled omelette. “By the way, he’s going to win the section prize at this rate, isn’t he?”

“Yuki doesn’t seem to be aware of that fact, though. The Manaka guy is just as fast as him, so it's hard to tell.”

“Ugh, I’m so frustrated! I want to tell Yuki-senpai his time.”

“How?”

“I’ll use willpower or telekinesis or something,” Jouta put the omelet he was partway through eating away in his sports bag and began to look at his phone intently. “In less than twenty minutes, it will be Nico-chan-senpai’s turn.”

The screen showed Bousou in the lead, and Rikudou chasing behind with a difference of about one and a half minutes. They were about to finish their descent and head towards Hakone-Yumoto Station. The Manaka runner, aiming for the section prize, had improved his position and was now in eighth place. His pace hadn’t slowed at all.

“How’s Yuki?”

“He’s not on the screen. Until they go out to Hakone-Yumoto, the lower-ranked teams won’t be shown much.”

Nico-chan told Jouta to keep an eye on Manaka’s time and began his final adjustments. He ran lightly in the parking lot to loosen up.

Nine o’clock in the morning. The Bousou runner arrived at the station in the lead. His time was sixty minutes and forty-six seconds. Rikudou and Yamato were the next to receive their sashes. Nico-chan hurried back to Jouta, who was near the relay line.

“Amazing!” Jouta was excited. “Even on flat ground, his speed hasn’t slowed down. Keep going, Yuki-senpai!”

On the screen of his phone, he could see Yuki sidestepping the Teitou runner at the crossroad with New Hakone Road. Kansei, in fourteenth place, had a clear view of TSU in front of them.

“Yes, that’s it!”

Nico-chan took off his jersey. Now it was time to see if Yuki could get the section prize.

“Manaka?”

“We'll be able to see them with our own eyes soon.”

Jouta raised his head from his phone. “They’re here!” he shouted.

The red uniform of Manaka, running along the railroad tracks, was just about to turn off the road and enter the relay station. They knew he was a candidate for the section prize, so the cheers were even louder. Manaka’s sash was handed over.

“What’s his record!”

“Sixty minutes and twenty-four seconds.”

Jouta read the information on the TV screen on his phone out loud. It was a good time for running on snowy roads. Even Rikudou’s Tamura, whose ten-kilometer time was in the twenty-eight minute range, had a time of sixty minutes and forty-eight seconds.

At the relay station, the schools relayed their sashes one after the other. The TV screen showed that Yuki was almost there.

Yuki, just a little more. The staff member called Nico-chan to stand at the relay line. All that was left was a race against time. Next to him, the TSU runner received his sash and started running. He could hear Jouta’s voice as he timed Yuki on his watch.

“Sixty minutes and seventeen seconds, eighteen, nineteen…”

Yuki entered the relay station. He was gritting his teeth and holding the unfastened sash in his right hand. He might have learned Manaka’s time from the spectators along the road and was trying to summon up all his strength in the final stretch.

“Yuki!” Nico-chan howled. “Sixty minutes and twenty-four seconds,” Jouta screamed. There was a stir from the spectators. The sash still hadn’t been passed to Nico-chan’s hand. Yuki was a step short of the section prize.

But at that moment, Nico-chan forgot about the existence of times. Yuki’s eyes were looking straight at him. He wasn’t thinking about the section prize at all, he just wanted to give the sash to Nico-chan as soon as possible. That was the only thing he was thinking about as he made it through the last three flat kilometers. Nico-chan understood that. He could see that in Yuki’s fingertips, which were still hot and damp despite being exposed to the cold wind.

“Good job,” Nico-chan muttered.

“I’m tired. I’m leaving the rest to you.”

Yuki clapped Nico-chan on the back, managed to step firmly on his trembling legs, and prevented himself from falling over.

“Yuki-senpai!” Jouta snatched a towel from a staff member and ran up to Yuki to support him. “It's disappointing, but you were incredible!”

“Disappointing? What is?” Yuki drank water from a plastic water bottle and finally found his voice.

“The section prize. Yuki-senpai’s time was sixty minutes and twenty-six seconds. If you had been two seconds faster, you would have tied for the section prize.”

“Really.”

Two seconds. Yuki laughed. Only two seconds. Such a short amount of time that passed in a single breath. Did I miss out on being the best in this leg by such a small margin?

“Oh well,” Yuki said. “Those two seconds were like an hour to me.”

Jouta almost cried when he saw Yuki’s soles after he took off his shoes. The blisters at the base of his big toes had peeled off and there was blood welling up, even though the skin on his soles had grown so thick over the past year. He realized just how hard it was to run down the mountains of Hakone.

“Of course it was enough. You were so cool, Yuki-senpai.”

After patting the tearful Jouta on the head, Yuki looked at the road leading toward the town of Odawara.

I’m leaving the rest to you, Nico-chan-senpai.

Previous | Next

#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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greyeyedmonster-18 · 3 years ago

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information about ceramics that you didn't need to know but I'm telling you anyway because we love a metaphor, part 3- recycling clay:

this was mentioned in chapter 8 of "ten reasons" and it's all 100% true.

In ceramics, you can take greenware, essentially dried clay that has not been fired yet, smash it to bits and recycle it into other clay. there is a variety of reason you would have greenware:

1. from trimming pots/other vessels on the wheel. you don't keep every part of the vessel that you make on the wheel. when it's about half-way dry and you're certain you're not going to make it anymore, you can take a trimming tool and smooth out the edges/create specific shapes in the pot. all those trimmings that come off? you can put in a bucket, and save for recycling. all the parts that didn't quite make it. all the pieces that you could do without, can be recycled to be used again.

2. you made something and waited too long to paint it or decided that you didn't like it after all (when i ceramics-ed, i was notorious for letting all my things turn to greenware that was basically unusable because it got too dry and wouldn't be able to go into the kiln). that entire piece can be broken down and put in the bucket with the trimmings to be used again. to make something new.

greenware is also interesting because it's an in-between phase (did i mention we love liminal spaces over here?) and is a phase you need to pay attention to. clay turns color when it's ready to be fired, and when it's good to glaze. there is also select windows of opportunities you have with greenware where you can rehydrate and reshape it. Say you made a pot, you were happy with it, 3 days go by, you look at it again and you're like-what the hell is this atrocity?- GOOD NEWS! You can go back and fix it! You can rewet the clay! You can try again!

But, moving along.

All the trimmings and broken down greenware (which you can break by literally throwing against walls or stepping on and I highly recommend this), and put it in a bucket. Then you fill the bucket up with a shit ton of water and you wait. You can go back and check it every couple days--you put your hand into the depths of muddy, foggy clay water and see what consistency it's at. Once it's starting to feel moist, you basically work blind in that bucket of water and try to push the broken parts together until they adhere and then they're whole again.

And then, you have to be sure to take the clay out of the water, and wedge it (remember when we talked about this?) to get the air bubbles out before you attempt to make with it. But like...the nice thing is, if something falls apart again... you can always recycle it.

side bar.

there's a really popular....image of ceramics that I've seen on tumblr of the art practice: Kintsugi, which is a Japanese ceramics practice where they fix broken pottery with gold. the idea is to embrace flaws and imperfections. That essentially damage...can be beautiful. it can be "good damage"

and no hate to this at all, some days, i get this. somedays this is so important to hold onto. this hope that there's a bigger picture and a brighter world. but most days, i live in the space where...sometimes damage is just...damage. (grief is just grief. it doesn't have to happen for a reason, there doesn't have to be a bigger meaning, sometimes it just...is grief.)

bad things happen and that sucks. you can embrace something and acknowledge something without trying to make it beautiful (and like, sometimes damage really isn't beautiful no matter how you slice it). and in terms of "ten reasons"--there was no glamorous way to talk about, and live with your husband of 10 years cheating on you. For Remus, even though it lead him to U.P. where he met Sirius, he could've gone his whole life without experiencing that type of heartache. It wasn't good damage. It was just damage.

But...that..doesn't mean you can't take the damage, put yourself back together, and recycle.

#ten reasons #this is now a pottery blog

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vbee-miya · 4 years ago

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[Rating Anime Hair]

✥︎ choji, deidara, haku, and hashirama || m.list

type: rating + headcanon

warnings: slight swearing

a/n: this is all just my opinons if you disagree it's fine. if you want i'd love to hear your opinions about this.

Chōji Akimichi

He’s got great locks of hair I will admit.

He’s definitely got thick hair no doubt about it.

He wouldn’t bring hair ties. He doesn’t know how to use them.

I genuinely feel like he takes care of his hair just a bit. Like just a bit.

Like if you were to slide your fingers down his hair you won’t be stopped by constant knots.

Maybe some knots, but they’re not like the complicated ones that you either have to detangle or just you know just cut it

But despite that his hair looks soft and fluffy. Definitely something that looks fun to play with.

His hair probably either smells like barbecue or barbecue if you stuff your nose closely in his hair.

overall rating : a solid 8/10

Deidara

He borrows hair ties and always get them lost.

You can’t change my mind.

Unlike Chōji his hair is more on the thinner side, but it’s the fluffy thin.

I feel like his hair if you were to slide you fingers through them they’ll go down smoothly.

He probably wakes up and does his hair.

It’s most likely not too complex, but a good brush in the morning and he’s fine.

Despite all the things I’ve said I also feel like he’d also get a fair share of his bad hair days and his hair would feel like dry clay.

I don’t know how many of you are reading, but have you ever played with air clay and sculpted it.

But somewhere during the process your hair gets like clay stuck onto it. Especially if you don’t tie your hair.

So without you knowing when it’s time to clean up yourself there’s like little dry chunks of clay on like a strand or two of your hair.

So yeah I feel like his hair would feel like very thin dryed up clay that make little chalk or white ash like traces on your fingers.

His hair would smell like dry clay. Idc

Update Spoiler: but during the reanimation jutsu that Kabuto does during the war his hair is so fluffy FOR WHAT

overall rating : a solid 278/10 or a 2/10

Haku

As flawless as his hair looks it’s gotta be frizzy.

I mean the Village of the Hidden Mist?

More like the Village of the Friz.

I’m funny laugh at that.

Anyways wouldn’t that like friz up your hair?

Despite Haku having pretty thin like hair I feel like there’ll be some strands of hair that’ll be out of place because of the climate he’d live in. And the type of hair he has.

Like it doesn’t matter if he brushed his hair well or not there’ll be strands of hair just sticking out or just like floating.

If you were to slide your fingers down his hair it’ll feel dry and rough. Because of the frizz-ness.

His hair? Yeah the smell would smell like water or like mist. Which in my opinion simply smells like the aftermath of a rain storm, but in this case just a subtle smell of that.

overall rating : a solid 6/10

Hashirama Senju

He’s got great hair *chefs kiss*

Well maintained.

Of course I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Hokage. I mean he’s got to look presentable so maintaining that hair is a must.

Look at that gif his hair is flowing so flawlessly

If I were to slide my hand right through his hair it’ll be similar to Chōji’s.

There might be some little knots because... war.

But it doesn’t hurt to just brush it away a tad bit.

Bad hair day doesn’t exist for this man. When he’s not at constant battle his hair is just yes

Very soft and silky like.

His hair probably smells like wood or sweat

overall rating : a solid 12/10

currently on || part two || part three || part four || part five

#v-rated✾#naruto headcanons #choji akimichi #choji headcanon #deidara #deidara headcanon #haku naruto #hashirama #hashirama senju #hashirama headcanons #naruto

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duskroads · 3 years ago

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Angie build update Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Oops haven’t been updating that much, but here’s how far I am! I haven’t closed any of the loops because I’m not gonna permanently attach things until everything’s painted which is why there are extra wires everywhere.

My Dad is still working on the internals so I can’t work on the head or finish the neck just yet.

Close ups and trials and tribulations under the readmore

Close ups first!

Hands, the fingers aren’t glued in yet so they kept falling out as I tried to get this shot.

Upper and Lower arms, I’m still debating the order of operations on the cuffs on her wrists, I think I’m going to add the worbla after I varnish them but before I paint. Maybe. We’ll see.

Legs

And Feet, I put down the sand paper down to stop the terrible glare that’s on my table and it was the closest thing available, but it confused my camera about colours, the feet are the same colour as everything else, not weirdly blue.

And the torso

Now for all the issues I had with getting this far.

First off, the original hooks I had in the shoulder sockets were way way way too long. Unfortunately I only figured this out after I had put a few layers of clay on it.

And knowing myself I wouldn’t be satisfied unless I fixed it, so

Here’s a comparison of the old piece to the new

So a significant difference, and honestly were I making her again I probably would have gone even smaller, but uh, not redoing it again from here.

The good thing this taught me is that this clay is super durable because it was a huge pain to try and break it away so that’s good at least?

Fast forward a few more layers of clay and things that I realize that cracks that I’ve been trying to patch as I’ve been adding clay in other areas actually go all the way through to the inside.

Most of them aren’t too concerning, except for this one.

At this point I’m just keeping an eye on it and making sure it doesn’t grow larger. This is foreshadowing for later issues.

But for now let’s look at the limbs for a bit.

What I did to keep all of the limbs separate was to cut some marks into the end of the wires that are eventually going to get cut off after I wrap them around to close the ends.

I did this because otherwise I was probably going to get the pieces mixed up extremely quickly

The next big issue was with the fingers, I realized that this clay wasn’t going to be able to do fine enough detail for me to sculpt them directly from the clay, so I decided to just make a blobs of clay and dremel them into shape.

The issue is, I made this decision while I was adding the second layer of clay to them (there was no way I was going to be able to scuplt it without at least one layer of base to keep it from falling apart as I tried to get details in.

However, this stuff tends to form air pockets in between layers, this fact has become the biggest frustration with this clay, and here is where it starts to become really apparent.

so at this point my options were

1) continue with this set of fingers, knowing that they are full of air pockets and would need some serious patching afterwards

2) create new blobs all in one layer and then dremel them down again

3) switch to polymer clay, which is much more fragile, but much better at detail

I ended up going with option 3 there, option 2 probably would have gone fine as well, but chances of success were much more sure with the polymer clay.

Don’t be fooled by my sudden jump to all 10 fingers this took like 3 days of not doing much else other than sculpting fingers to get done, I am not a professional with sculpting so I am taking extra time to get it to look right.

At this point I’ve got everything up to the neck on the torso sanded down, and there’s some stuff to patch. That in itself is not a surprise, however, I realize that an area that I’ve been trying to patch has a giant air pocket in it. Yup that issue again.

I pulled off everything that was flexing when I pushed on it, but you can see from the pencil line just how far I’m estimating the pocket goes.

Once that was patched and sanded back down it seems to be alright in that area at least but that was a bit of a scare.

However, the more times I put this thing in the oven, the more cracks are appearing in the same locations. And I realized that, because this piece is too tall to fit in my oven and I had to lay it down and do a front layer and then a back layer for every layer I put on, the cracks were appearing along those lines, and the ones where I did the shoulder surgery.

The cracks aren’t all that easy to see in the photos so here they are both plain and with me drawing over the photos so you can see where they are.

And while these cracks are fairly fine they go all the way through to the hollow inside. The chicken wire inside should keep things together alright, but what I’m going to do is after I varnish it I’m going to put some strong glue in there and paint over it, just to be safe.

I dremeled down the shoes, (needed some patching on the toe of this one) and I was planning to hand file down the design on the top of them, just to prove I could.

but of course there’s an air pocket under the raised portion of one of them that I find out about once I’m half way through filing. You can see it’s under the center of the design, and by the fact that the spoke I was working on just fell off.

I dremeled them off, I’ll be using 3D fabric paint for them when I get to the painting stage.

After that I hand sanded down the fingers, because the dremel would be too aggressive on the polymer clay and leave behind so much scraping that it might show through the paint, and that took a few days to get done.

Before and after sanding

That’s where I am right now.

Next steps are paint tests (already started) and in between the 600 years of drying time on those I’m working on the mock up for my shirt.

I’m gonna try (try, no promises) to give more frequent updates even if I haven’t gotten a huge step done just so I don’t end up doing such a huge dump of stuff every time.

#duskroads cosplays #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #resident evil village

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honeytama · 5 years ago

Text

Something There (Part One)

Shigaraki Tomura X Villian!Reader (GN)

A/N: This beautiful artwork is by @knifeewifee and it inspired this piece! Visit her original post here. I’ve been daydreaming about vacationing to a hot spring so much lately, that I wrote something to go with that. I love to see happy Tomura. (Spicy Part Two coming 5/10/20.) Enjoy!

Part One / Part Two (Smut 18+)

Summary: Giran arranges an all expense paid trip in hiding for Shigaraki plus one at a private ryokan (resort with onsen/hot spring and inn). The LoV’s leader gets to experience a few more new relaxing activities than expected.

Warnings: None, mini amount of angst from mutual pining

Word Count: 2.3k

A sharp poke into your arm pushes your eyes open to the darkness of your sleeping corner as you awake from a deep sleep. You turn your body over on the mattress before reaching out to grab your phone from the cold wooden floor; tired eyes attempt to focus on the bright screen.

“Friday. 6 AM? What the—,” you groan out to no one.

You hear cloth and metal being rustled around behind you, so you turn to confront it in hopes of getting back to sleep. Your eyes widen a smidge when you see your friend attempting to shove his favorite red coat into his only travel bag. He’s hunched over his mattress, which always lays next to yours.

“Tomura, the hell? Were you the one who poked me?”

“Yeah, it took me ten minutes to try to get you to wake up. I would have poked your face too, but I didn’t want your drool on me,” Tomura smirks and points towards your mouth.

You furrow your brow while dragging your hand across your mouth and cheek. Like a fool, you wipe at your dry skin. You groan and rub into your temple as he continues to fumble with his clothes. “Well, did you need me for something or—?”

He finally zips his bag closed. “Yes, pack up some things to wear for two days. Giran is sending me away until Sunday, and you’re coming with me.”

You and Tomura sit quietly in the back seat of a black car driven by someone in a dark suit. You watch acres of crop fields and sakura trees fade by as you wait for any crumb of information to be told to you.

“Hey,” you turn to Shigaraki, finally deciding to confront the situation. You pause when you realize he’d fallen asleep leaning back against the headrest.

You take the chance to trace your eyes around his features. Lately, he rarely wore a hand to cover his face in front of any League members. However, this made your time around him a bit more difficult as you had caught romantic feelings for him pretty early on. He’s one of the few people to give any ounce of attention to you, and maybe it’s human nature to fall for the one person you can’t have. Getting to finally see his face is enough to even ask for in return for what you've done for him as a villain. As a friend.

“What do you want?” he looks down his nose, watching you from across the leather bench.

His eyes catch yours only after you had the chance to gaze upon his jaw. “Oh, uh hey, where are we heading?” you stutter out, leaning back in your seat. “Heh,” he breathes out a laugh at your surprise. “I don’t know where we’re going. So, you should get some sleep. Then maybe, I could stare at you too,” he nods your direction, and it’s difficult to tell if he’s serious or not.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” heat bubbling up to the surface of your cheeks.

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Shigaraki awkwardly tries to give you a smile before gazing out of his side window. “Giran only mentioned that I needed to be further from the city for the time being. But, the place he set me up for requires guests to bring someone with them. I chose you. So, what?” He hides further into his hoodie.

Again, the ride is quiet for the rest of the way.

—

Your pristine, dark car had been driven several hours into the countryside of Japan. As the car slows to a stop on a gravel driveway, you press your forehead against the cool glass of the window. The building is a small, traditional establishment made of cypress wood, bamboo, and stone. When you look towards the front entrance, it’s decorated with many large leafed plants off to both sides of a stone pathway. The roof hangs low as an overhang for the small patio at the end of the path. Dark, curved clay tiles line the roof up to its peak and to the sides that hide behind a wall of tall leafy bamboo stalks. The private ryokan you have now found you’ve been driving all this way for is nestled into the foot of a mountain. You wouldn’t have guessed that your bank broker would execute an idea to send wanted criminals out to an inn and outdoor bathhouse.

The driver parks the car and leaves to walk around to your door. He opens it and ushers you to leave. You can't help but throw a look back at Tomura hoping for his guidance as you've never seen any place like this before. He unbuckles his own seat belt and nods towards the door, beckoning you to follow his lead. You grab your small duffel from your lap and sling it over your shoulder before stepping out onto the driveway. Hundreds of smoothed pebbles crunch beneath your feet as you walk yourself to the end of the stone pathway that leads to the entrance. The air feels somewhat chilled, a light breeze grazes your nose as you wait for Tomura to meet you.

The next thing you hear is the car being driven off of the pebble driveway back onto the street you came in from. “C’mon, Y/N.” Shigaraki walks past and you quickly get rid of the flying thought that he would have left you there stranded. You catch up to walk beside him. Both of your shoes make soft squeak noises while walking on the stones wet from the mist.The large fauna you had seen before are now brushing against your shoulder, as well.

Just before you reach the porch, the sliding doors open and an elderly woman walks out in a casual kimono, sweats, and slippers. You both take off your shoes and set them on the porch, and she offers you both a set of slippers similar to her own. She ushers the two of you inside the inn with a smile and bow. “Welcome, Shigaraki-sama and Y/N-sama” the woman and her husband greet. Tomura gives a curt nod and bow to the inn owner before shoving the jacket hood off of his blue locks. “We’re the couple that owns and runs this establishment. We hope you enjoy your stay at our private ryokan. We have plenty of activities for you to fill your time here together,” the man recites.

You look to Tomura in bewilderment, but he’s busy looking around the lobby for any sign of a ruse. “Thank you. We appreciate your hospitality,” you offer. It looks like you’ll have to be the one to speak for the two of you.

“Let us walk you to your room. It must have been a long drive from Musutafu,” the man bellows. The couple begin to walk the two of you to the back of the inn. The lobby had looked to be as traditional as the outside. You follow the couple on smoothed stone flooring that catches the reflection of the dimmed light fixtures on the ceiling. You had noticed an extra room near the entrance, which you assume is probably used by the couple. The walls lining the hallway you walk down are made from shoji, paper sheets held in lattice frames, and are just enough privacy to feel comfortable. Which was much more than you’d ever experience being in the League. You either sleep on the ground or one top of one another. But, Tomura always ends up being by your side.

At the end of a hallway are two sets of large sliding doors facing each other, assuming you would receive your own room for once, you grow excited.

“Here is your room, sir,” The husband says before pushing the door to the side. Tomura enters the room with the man; the new sound of tatami floors brushing against the sole of their slippers comes to your ears. You stand watching as your friend walks about a large living room around a short legged dining table with two cushions on the floor for sitting. The backside of the living room has two, large, open sliding doors as tall as the ceiling. Through the open doors, you could see a short set of cobble steps that led down to an entire porch made of the same stone material. Your heart beats harder in your chest at the sight of a blanket of steam floating slowly above a hot spring surrounded by a tall wooden fence, lined with the same bamboo stalks as the front. Shigaraki opens up a set of doors of his own on the right wall of the living room. You peer around the corner to see a plush, king-size futon mattress in the middle of the separate bedroom. It's accompanied by a wide wardrobe with two extra pairs of outdoor slippers at the foot of it. You had never experienced anything like what the couple have presented you, so slight jealousy enters your head knowing the room you would be set up in wouldn’t be as lavish as your commander’s.

“Mx. Y/N, please go on in,” the elderly woman sets a comforting hand on your shoulder and holds out a guided hand to the living room. Your head spins towards her voice, unsure to enter your boss’ new space. “Make yourself comfortable and unpack. Feel free to use anything within the wardrobe in your bedroom. We will have a wide dinner selection available for later tonight. Of course, it will be brought here for you both to enjoy each other's company.” She continues.

“We get to share this room?” You rush to ask before they leave you alone. “I assumed I would stay in the one across the hall.”

“Oh, there’s only one guest living space at our inn. These other doors lead to our indoor onsen and sauna room,” She smiles proudly at you, then to Shigaraki whose face looks just as shocked as your own. The couple’s faces drop suddenly when they realize, “Was it not safe for us to assume you are romantic partners?” The husband speaks up.

You stand in silence as you watch as Tomura’s hands clench into fists at his sides, and takes a step toward the couple. With this, you rush to his side to put a strong hand into his shoulder, hoping to stop him from doing something disastrous. “We are partners, but just, not in that way. We only work together. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding,” You tried to calm the room as much as possible knowing that if you were forced out of the nicest hiding spot Giran has offered you, you would both learn to regret it.

The couple is unfazed by your friend's flare up. Countering Tomura's stance, the woman steps forward with a soft expression, “It’s perfectly fine. We work with your broker to protect his clients. We’ll continue to do so, as long as you both maintain respectful behavior.”

He releases the tension from his body, choosing only to look into your eyes as an apology. “Alright, then. Everything is fine, huh, Y/N?”

“Yeah- Yes,” breaking eye contact to face the couple again. “Everything's great. Your place is so gorgeous, by the way.”

“Good, then. We’ll leave you be now. Enjoy!” The couple bow and leave the room, closing the doors behind them.

The room is as silent as the car ride you had taken earlier. Only the trickle of water flowing from bamboo shoots into the outdoor hot spring echoes into the living room where you stand watching one another to do something.

“What time is it? That water looks really nice,” you look away before rubbing into your eyes. Even though it might feel nice to sleep after Shigaraki’s rude awakening from this morning, you still want to experience the relaxing things offered to you while you have the time. It might just be a once in a life time opportunity.

“Around 10 AM, I guess you could use a bath,” he turns into the bedroom, laughing at his own humor.

“Me?” you laugh. “Maybe it could wake you up. You might just be a little grumpy from getting up even earlier than me,” you tease.

You follow him to the bedroom and stride to check what's inside of the wardrobe. It holds a blanket and comforter for the futon in a cubby, a few drawers for clothing and items, and a clothing rack off to the side. The rack holds four yukata varying sizes and colors, from navy blue to soft pink. The obi you use to tie around your waist rests on a shelf underneath the rack, also colored to match the fine yukata.

“If you actually want to go into the water, then you should wear one of those,” he advises from behind you. Shigaraki plops himself onto the futon, watching you brush your hands across the robes’ fabric. “Pick a yukata and a belt.”

You choose a navy yukata and light blue belt to wrap with, and set them to the side for yourself. Then, silently hoping he’ll indulge you. You bring a black yukata of its hanger and light gray obi off from the shelf.

“You only need one, put the other back,” he commands from the floor.

“I was just…,” your pulse quickens. “I was thinking you could come out and join me,” you admit, wrapping a belt around your fingers, anxiously waiting for his response.

His eyes widen as he looks up at you. “You know you’d be fully n-… in the water... ,” he pauses, clenching his eyes shut. “Whatever, you don't want to see me, and I don't want to see you like that,” he huffs out. “We’re partners, but not like that, right, Y/N?” he spits, admitting his annoyance at your reaction to the owners assumption about your relationship.

“I’m sorry, Tomura. I didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh,” you lay his yukata and obi on the mattress and walk towards the patio. “But, if I did want to see you, then would you come out and meet me when you’re ready? It doesn’t have to be even more than that. I just thought we could experience these things together,” you say from over your shoulder.

#shigaraki tomura #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #league of villians #league of villians x reader #lov #writing

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herohotline · 5 years ago

Text

Wet Clay (P.1)

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

A/N: alright let's try this again. take 2 everybody

Summary: You’ve been officially hired as U.A’s first school counselor. You’re assigned to help the hero course- learning more about their students and teachers along the way. And if you manage to catch a crush on one of said teachers... You just hope he doesn’t distract you from doing your job.

Word Count: 3,300+

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

If there was one thing you knew about U.A, it was that the school seemed like a never-ending magnet for trouble. They’ve already been on the news twice this year due to villain attacks, and it made you wonder: hey, who’s taking care of the aftermath?

You’ve been working as a freelance therapist for over ten years, and you reached into several things. Family sessions, PTSD recovery, addiction therapy, the works. So with high hopes, you came to U.A one day with a proposal for the principal. Getting a meeting with him wasn’t easy, so you intended to use the time you got with him wisely.

Your meeting was scheduled at a random time of day- the middle of the school day, really, so when you made your way to Nezu’s office, you saw several students. They seemed like busy little bees, rushing over to the cafeteria with smiles- it must be lunch hour. The whole place was insanely big, and you wouldn’t have been able to navigate it on your own- so good thing you weren’t.

Your tour guide sure was loud, though.

“It’s great that Nezu let someone in, but he wouldn’t tell us what it’s for!” The hero you recognized as Present Mic had been chatting animatedly the whole time, and you tried your best to keep up with his energy.

“That’s strange,” you say back to him, adjusting the grip on your briefcase. They checked it at the front gate- happy to see it was only a few business papers. “I don’t think what I’m talking to Nezu about is very secretive.”

Present Mic waves his hand in the air, making a ‘ppsh’ noise with his teeth. “Nezu likes to mess around with us teachers a lot. I’m not surprised! Oh, and here we are!” He spins rather suddenly to face you, presenting the large office doors to you.

You look at it curiously. “...Isn’t Nezu supposed to be a small animal?” How could he fit through the door…?

Mic laughs as if you had made some sort of joke. He opens the door for you, patting your back as you walk inside. “I’ll be here to escort you out when you’re done, good luck!” He whispers- well, his own way of whispering, which is still very loud, before thrusting you in the office and closing the door behind you.

You blink once to try and realize what just happened.

“Ah, ___!” Nezu greets you as you stand still in the rather large office, his little body looking comical behind his desk. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting with you!” Oh boy, here we go. You don’t really appreciate Mic thrusting you into this, literally, but you smooth out your clothes and walk toward the principal’s desk.

“I feel the same way, Nezu,” you smile at him as you shake his little paw across the desk. “I’m glad you’re willing to listen to what I have to say.” He gestures to the seat beside you and you gladly take it, making yourself comfortable.

“Of course. It’s been chaotic but I’m always willing to hear ideas for the school. You mentioned therapy?” The business has begun- but oddly enough, the animal pulls out a tea set and begins to brew.

“Simply put, yes. With all the events that have been happening at your school lately, I believe it’s due time for a therapist to be hired. You’re training heroes, and while it’s important that they’re physically ready for the world of heroics, I believe they should be mentally ready as well.” You take a cup from him, muttering a ‘thank you’ as you continue to give him your proposal. “Just this year, you had a kidnapping. I know you took care of it, but those sorts of things have a large impact on kids- they might be teenagers, but they aren’t fully developed. Then there’s just the thought of studying and working to be a hero- it’s stressful, and I believe every child should have a good outlet for when it gets to be too much.”

Taking a sip of the tea, you hum under your breath. It’s a wonderful citrus flavor.

Nezu smiles. “I looked into you- I hope you aren’t offended, it’s merely what we must do for letting strangers into the campus. You’re a therapist, correct?”

You nod. “I’m not offended, I figured as much. And yes, I am. I’ve been in the field for over 10 years, so I’d like to think I know what I’m talking about when it comes to mental health.”

“Of course! I don’t doubt you!” Nezu laughs- a squeaky little noise. “You’re right, the students deserve a good person to talk to about their struggles. The question is… are you sure you can be that person?”

So he had caught onto you. Yes, more than anything, you wanted to be the one to help these kids. It’s a bit ballsy to walk into an office and suggest they hire you, unprompted, but you believe it’s the right move to make. Nothing will get done if you don’t put the first foot in, after all.

“Yes,” you tell him, as determined as you can. “I would like to be the test driver in this. With how many students U.A holds, one therapist for so many kids is nearly impossible. I’d die of stress before they do,” you pull your briefcase up to your lap and open it, handing him a few papers. “These are the things I’ve planned if you were willing to go through with hiring me. I’d like to focus on the hero course first, a few sessions with each kid throughout a few months. I want to learn about these children, and from what I learn, I can fully deduce what sort of changes need to happen in U.A. Like if my work is even needed here, or what type of therapy should be offered or special programs.”

Nezu flicks through your papers with an impressed smile. “You’ve thought a lot about this,” he says, “you seem to care very deeply.”

“I’m passionate about helping others how I can,” you tell him honestly. “And frankly, if you don’t mind my honesty, U.A is long overdue for a school counselor. Every child deserves to have someone to confide in, plain and simple, Nezu.”

At your statement, he laughs. It’s not because he thinks you’re joking, but he knows you’re right. “I love your attitude!” He says. “And you’ve convinced me. We’ll start our hiring process right away, and you can show me more of your plans. I’m happy you came to me today.”

“Oh, what?” Your eyebrows stand up in shock. “Really? Wh… really?”

“Yes!” Nezu smiles. “I had already decided on hiring you before you came. But meeting you was a pleasure and convinced me more.” He hands out his small paw again and you slowly shake it.

“Welcome to U.A, ___.”

---

Getting home, you looked back at the meeting and for a second you think you were tricked. But you’re soon emailed several background check forms and sessions for drug testing- the works of getting hired at a very cautious school. So you deduce that it’s not a trick- but it’s very strange.

You’re grateful though, and you accomplish what you can right away such as the background check, quirk information and license, and sending in your history with therapy. Nezu told you that if you were quick, you could have your first day in just a week. It shocks you- a week? It’s so soon!

Maybe, you think, they’ve already been thinking about hiring a counselor for a while. It was long overdue, and now they’re in a rush to get you in and working. You suppose that with everything that’s been going on for the school, that’s fair.

You hope you can do this- the last thing you want is to let this opportunity slip through the cracks and let everyone down.

---

After a full week of filling out paperwork, various meetings, and a lot of movement speeches that you’ve given yourself to get through it, your first day at U.A comes, bright and early on a Monday morning. And, interestingly enough, your first big task of the day is getting dressed.

The students have uniforms, but the teachers all wear their hero costumes, and you’re not a hero. So what on earth do you wear? You glare at your closet for a long time before finally slipping on a simple button-up shirt tucked into some slacks. It’s the most professional-casual you can get, right?

Taking the train to U.A was a bit busy, but you were buzzing with first-day energy that you couldn’t even mind the pushing and shoving of people coming on and off the train. You’re sure that the longer you have to take the train, the more it will bother you, but today it seems like nothing can break through your hopeful exterior.

God, you hope this works. You hope the kids like you.

It feels funny to walk into U.A with no guards hounding you- but thanks to your I.D that you got just yesterday, you walk in without any problems. It makes you grin. Your first stop for the day is to find Eraserhead- you’re meeting with his class first and taking over homeroom for today. Tomorrow, you’ll meet with the other hero course.

When you walk into the teacher's lounge, nerves are tingling your senses. It feels like it really is the first day of school, but instead of a student, now you’re a teacher, sort of. The room looks empty, so you assume the teachers have all gone to their classes for the day. You wonder where Eraserhead is…?

It’s as you walk around the desks in a curious manner that a yellow bag on the floor catches your eye. Quite frankly, you do a double-take on it-- is someone sleeping in there?

“Hello?” You walk up to the bag. “Is that you, Eraserhead?”

You remember Nezu joking about something like this, but you didn’t take him seriously. As the sleeping bag rolls around, your eyes widen in surprise as you see that yes- this is Pro-Hero Eraserhead sleeping on the floor.

His tired, dry eyes look up at you. “You’re the therapist?” He asked, his voice deep and scratchy.

“...Yes. ____.” It’s all you can manage to say as you watch him slowly crawl out of his bag, picking it up and standing on his feet. All of a sudden, he’s looming over you with his height and it almost catches you off guard. “Thank you for working with me,” you shake yourself out of your thoughts and present your hand to him.

As he shakes it back, you notice that his hand basically engulfs yours. Woof.

“I’m glad you’ll be working with the students,” he says, and his honesty throws you for a loop as he begins to walk off, you following him from behind. “Do you mind telling me what you have in store for the day?”

“Right!” You try to walk a little faster so you can walk side-by-side with the man, his legs quite longer than yours. “I figured I'd like to introduce myself, let the kids get to know me. It’s hard to suddenly have a new face around, as well as being expected to talk about your problems with a stranger. So I just need to not be a stranger anymore.” You look up to Eraserhead and he silently nods. You figure that’s his way of telling you ‘good idea’?

“We’re here.” He stops in front of, again, another rather large door. They all seem to look like this. “Get ready.”

As the door opens, you’re immediately met with the sound of teenagers laughing and yelling. Eraserhead heads in first, thankfully, and you peek your head in to get a look of the students. You’ve seen a lot of them through the news, so some faces are familiar, while others aren’t.

“Class,” Eraserhead’s authoritative voice cuts through all the noise. The students are quick to sit in their seats, heads up and attentive for their teacher. He sighs, his shoulders sagging in a tired manner. “Today, ____ will be taking over the class,” you take that as your cue to enter the room, standing next to Eraserhead silently. “I’ll still be here, so don’t disrespect them. Listen to them, take what they have to say seriously.”

That seems to be the end of his little speech as he shuffles away in that same sleeping bag you found him in. You step up to the podium, and your nerves are back as you look at the sea of students. Oh boy.

“Hello, everyone,” you smile. “As Eraserhead mentioned, my name is ___. There’s no need for formalities with me, you can just call me by name. My job here at U.A is to be your school counselor.” You watch as several of their faces change and you laugh a little. “I know, it’s strange. I’m here today to ask you a few questions. My first question being, how many of you are comfortable talking with a stranger?”

None of their hands raise beside a rather sparkly boy with blonde hair.

“I appreciate your honesty!” You gesture for him to put his hand down and he does so. “Most of you aren’t going to come to me right away with struggles you may have, and I understand that. My job today is to have you all get to know me. We’ll be doing a few activities, and by the end of home-room, you’ll go back to your regular classes. Are there any questions?”

A hand shoots up right away, and you nod your head to the girl it’s attached to. She looks very attentive and scholarly- you have a feeling she might be a class president or something like that. “Why has the school decided to hire a counselor?”

“That’s a good question. What’s your name?” You ask.

“Yaoyorozu Momo.”

“Thank you for asking, Yaoyorozu. Truthfully, with all the events that’s been going on in your district, the school believes we should be more attentive to our students' mental wellbeing.” You feel like you’ve gone over this pitch thousands of times… “It’s important that you all have an outlet when you’re stressed or upset.”

Yaoyorozu seems satisfied with your answer as she nods, her hand going back in her lap. Another hand rises after that- not as confident as Yaoyorozu, but still there.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering- my, uh, name is Midoriya Izuku! I was wondering what we’d talk about in your office?” The boy has wonderful green hair that curls at the ends, freckles on his cheeks that make him look innocent and cute. He’s somewhat nervous, which intrigues you, but you move on to his question.

“Yes, in my office…”

The rest of the period goes like this. You eventually get a question out of almost every student, and they seem to be warming up to you already. You’ve learned most of their names- but you’ll probably need a few days until you remember them all. After the questions, you do a few games together that you thought up- things that typically would be done in middle school. You split up the classroom as you have them learn more about each other- things like ‘go to the left side if you’d rather lose your taste, go to the right if you’d lose your smell’. They were simple activities that the students seemed to mostly enjoy, and you participated in them as well.

At one moment, you asked a very specific question on purpose: how do you feel about your quirk? If you like it, you would go to the right side of the room. If you dislike it, you’d go to the left. If you weren’t sure how you felt, you’d sit in the middle. In the end, only you and boy with white and red hair stand in the middle as the rest of the class sits on the right.

“What is your quirk?” He asks you and you smile down at him. Everyone turns their attention toward you, clearly interested.

“My quirk is called Sensory. If I use it right, I can heighten my own or someone else’s senses such as their hearing or sight. But if I use it wrong, the person goes into sensory overload.” You explain it as simple as you can, and a pink hand raises in the air. You can’t quite remember her name…

“Why don’t you like your quirk?”

“Well, I don’t dislike it,” you quickly reassure the class, “but I have my reasons, as I’m sure Todoroki has his own as well?” You look down at him and he nods silently. “Anyway, I asked this question so that you all would get to know who I am a little better. Quirks are a great way to express yourself, but it’s important to remember that it isn’t the only way. It’s okay to not feel completely at home with your Quirk, but it’s important to understand it and accept it as a part of you.”

After the activity ends, the period is over and it’s time for you to go down to your office. Eraserhead offers to walk you there since you’re still new to the building and you gratefully take it. The two of you leave the classroom with a stern word from the teacher for his students to wait patiently for Present Mic to arrive ‘or else’. You have a feeling that there's no real threat behind his words, but it seems to work.

“So,” you fill the silence in the hallway, “do you think it went well, Eraserhead? You know them best.” You look up at him and the hero reaches up to run his fingers through his hair. He’s not quite looking at you, but you know he’s paying attention.

“You don’t have to call us by our hero names,” he huffs and his hands go back into his pockets.

“Oh! Well… To be honest, the forms Nezu gave me never mentioned any of the teacher’s names, so I don’t actually know…”

“Typical of him,” the man rolls his eyes, his lips tugging upward just a bit at the ends. “You can call me Aizawa,” all of a sudden you both come to a stop and you realize that you’re outside of your office on the first floor. “Mic is Yamada and Midnight is Kayama… I’m sure you know who Yagi is.” You nod. “You’ll learn the rest of their names along the way. The 1-B teacher is Kan, by the way.”

“Oh, good! Thank you, Aizawa,” you smile up at him. “And thank you for walking me back.”

“You’ll get used to it in a bit,” he sounds sure of himself, making you believe him. “And… you did fine with the kids. I can think of a few who might come over by the end of the week.”

His reassurance is honestly very touching, as you weren’t really sure of yourself.

“I hope I have at least a week, my office is kind of baren right now,” you laugh at yourself a little. “And thank you- it’s good to hear. I really hope this goes well, you know? I think I can really help them- I want to help them.”

Aizawa just stares down at you but you’re honestly getting used to his silence. You can already tell that he’s a man of few words, so you’re grateful that he’s talked to you as much as he has. You laugh again- you’re not sure why- before opening your door and waving goodbye to him. He leaves after that, and now it’s just you alone in your office.

You sigh as you look around the room. It’s got the essentials- two chairs, a couch, and a table in the middle. Then there’s a desk in the corner of the room, but other than that, it’s empty. You’ll definitely have to fill up the area to make it seem more welcoming- maybe you can bring some things over from your apartment.

All you know is that you’re determined. By the end of the week, you’re going to make this place feel like home.

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