#I titled this 'Hayato Has Never Been In A Real Battle'

[cheshiresense]

Ok so Im going to take this chance and go wild: GiottoxMukuro + Bad Vongola AU

UM. So, I sort of just sat on this last one cuz what even lmao. I checked AO3 and omg this ship exists??? but there’s like just two fics under it. But alright, here’s my stab at this very random pairing, it doesn’t even quite get all the way to a pairing, but I gave them both page time and at least you gave me something new to try XD Sorry it’s so late.

ALSO YAY I FINISHED ALL TEN

1. Ok so! First thing’s first - how do I stick these two into the same time period? Either full AU or time travel/reincarnation fuckery. Let’s go with reincarnation. Sort of. Where Neo Primo is literally Neo Primo ;)

Tsuna is dead. They’re in the future arc, he’s being forced to take the boss trial, and Hibari suffocates him just a little too long. So Tsuna dies at the feet of his ancestors, and Giotto is forced to witness the death of a fourteen-year-old boy who had never asked for any of this bloodshed but had also never backed down from it, never folded, even under the pressure of so many Vongola bosses. And Giotto is angry. He has spent centuries watching his beloved Vongola become mired in blood and sin, built on an empire of corpses and suffering. He is so sick of it, of not being able to do anything about it, but his latest descendant is dead, and his body is empty of a soul, and in that moment, more than anything else, all Giotto wants is a chance to act, to be something other than helpless, to fix even just a little of what his bloodline has broken.

Will and Flames and desperation are powerful things when combined.

Next thing Giotto knows, he’s opening his eyes to a cold-looking training room, the remains of a cage that killed a fourteen-year-old boy splintering around him, and it barely takes a thought for his Flames to surge up and out and slam the Cloud - Hibari Kyouya - into the far wall with a viciousness Giotto had spent the majority of his first life keeping under wraps. For a split second, he almost kills the Cloud for his gall. A Guardian who could murder his own Sky - however well-intentioned or unknowingly - is no Guardian at all, but then, out of all of the Tenth Generation, as far as Giotto can tell, not a single one of them had had a real bond with Tsuna. The one who’d come closest had been the Mist, but after ten years and the weight of Vongola’s sins on his shoulders, even that connection had dissolved.

If Giotto is honest, the person Tsuna had become ten years later under the crushing pressure of that Sun Arcobaleno and the Vongola had been near unrecognizable compared to the boy Giotto had so admired. But that man is dead, at least for now, dragged under by too many enemies and too many bad decisions, and all that’s left is this younger version, dragged to the future against his will and forced to fight a war of someone else’s making.

Not even that anymore obviously, and all that’s left is Giotto, a bloody legacy to his name and too many regrets to pay for. All he can do is live out Tsuna’s life now and hopefully undo some of the damage Vongola has wrought. Tsuna wouldn’t want him killing this Cloud though, and so Giotto lets him go in the end. Hibari gets to his feet, something bloodthirsty and thrilled gleaming in his eyes, completely ignorant of the fact that he’d killed his Sky, and all Giotto can think as he recalls the way Tsuna had always had to bribe this man for him to even consider helping is how Alaude must be rolling in his grave.

“I’m done,” He says instead, slicing a cool look around the room, and then he walks out, back to his room. Nobody stops him, but Giotto wouldn’t have stopped him either, with the shadow of his Flames licking across the concrete floor.

2. Giotto does his duty. Ten years in the future is far too late to really change anything significant, so the faster he takes care of business here, the sooner they can all go home. In the meantime, it amuses him - in a funny world-burning sort of way - how none of Tsuna’s friends seems to realize anything is wrong, that the boy they profess their loyalty to is gone, and his body has been usurped by an interloper. Giotto considers himself a decent enough actor, but for a bunch of Flame-actives with Vongola rings on their fingers and Guardian titles to their names, they’re a rather oblivious lot.

(All of Tsuna’s past and present and future sits in his memories now though, and Giotto can’t say he’s terribly surprised. The person these children wanted to follow was never actually the boy Tsuna had been, not entirely. They pay attention to the parts of him that they like, and ignore the rest like they don’t exist. It infuriates Giotto, because Tsuna deserved better, but Tsuna is dead, and even if Giotto has every intention of at the very least demoting them from their Guardian positions once they’re finished here, he cannot truly harm these children Tsuna had called friends.)

So he does his duty, fights the battles people want him to fight, and smiles blandly back in the face of Reborn’s suspicious glances. That hitman at least can sense something is off, if only because his student no longer cringes or screams, but no one save the Vongola bosses knows the details of what happens in the Vongola Trial, and it’s easy enough to balance Reborn’s misgivings with that.

It’s fun though, messing with the pseudo-baby. The last time Reborn tried to shoot him awake in the morning, Giotto had set the entire room on fire and ended up singeing off Reborn’s sideburns. The resulting training session had been grueling, but it had been worth finally getting back at the man first responsible for more or less browbeating Tsuna into obedience.

Pettiness aside, Giotto does put effort into training. Tsuna’s body is in decent shape, but it could be even better, so Giotto does his best to make it so. The weapons of the future are something of a marvel too, and he smiles indulgently at the full-grown wing-adorned flame-pelted Leone di Cieli that gracefully leaps out to greet him, but in the privacy of his rooms, he lets his Flames swirl free and summons the phoenix that had been his constant companion in his first life, the soul of his Flames, his will made sentient.

“Natsu,” He names the lion, after Tsuna, and welcomes Persephone home as she does a sweep of his bedroom before landing light and delicate on his shoulder, the way she’d always done in battle.

The looks on everyone’s faces when they see her with him is enough to make Giotto smile for the next week.

3. It becomes clear soon enough that they’re going to need all hands on deck for the final confrontation against Millefiore, but even before that, Giotto begins asking some pointed questions that Tsuna had thought but hadn’t quite been brave enough to ask.

“When are we getting my Mist out of Vendicare?” He enquires one night over dinner, and smiles pleasantly as everyone freezes. “We require all the aid we can get, yes? And Mukuro has always been strong.”

“Jyuudaime!” Hayato is the first to burst out, chair skidding back with how emphatically he stands up. “We don’t need that bastard!” Giotto looks at him, not a twitch in his expression, impenetrable as ice even as he keeps his features soft, and Hayato falters. “Or- Or even if we do, he can just possess Dokuro! He can’t be trusted if we let him out!”

Giotto stirs more sugar into his coffee - rich and sweet, gave G a minor aneurysm every time he saw it - just the way he likes it. “So we make him serve, and offer nothing in return?”

Giotto waits out the confused spluttering around him. Reborn is drilling holes into the side of his head but he pays the baby no mind.

“He has been imprisoned for ten years,” Giotto continues in mild tones. “And has remained loyal all this time, si?” He glances briefly at Chrome, the younger one, who stares back, meek and mute. She is loyal to Mukuro above all others, and it would’ve been so very easy for him to influence her into betraying Vongola - betraying Tsuna - anytime.

That he hadn’t, in all this time, is… something. It’s something. The lingering threads of a frayed potential bond. The stubborn refusal to give up something he’d once perhaps considered his. A promise once given - keep my people safe and you will have my allegiance - and never broken, not by Mukuro.

People have often remarked on how similar the First and Tenth Generations are. Personally, Giotto has never seen two sets of people so different.

“I wish to free him,” He says at last, over the voices of those trying to convince him otherwise. “Loyalty deserves loyalty returned. Whatever else he used to be, he has bled in my service for ten years. Surely that is enough to justify his release?”

It is not a question, and everyone knows it. Reborn is all but glaring now. He doesn’t like this new Tsuna who does not cower even in the face of his bullets.

Giotto is spiteful enough to enjoy every moment of it.

It is Takeshi who relents first. “Okay,” He says, all easy agreement and assessing eyes, and maybe this one at least is not so far removed from Ugetsu’s blood after all. “But how are we gonna do that? Vendicare’s hard to break into, right?”

Hayato - the only mafia-raised of the lot - looks positively horrified. “It’s not hard, Baseball Freak, it’s impossible!”

“But Mukuro already broke out twice, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Giotto interjects, smiling at Takeshi, who preens a little under the attention and is in some ways possibly the most insane of them all. Giotto does have a fondness for those who consider laws as guidelines at best. “So, I suppose we need a Mist.” He takes a gulp of his coffee. “The Varia has a new one these days, don’t they?”

Three conferences, five one-sided shouting matches, and a hefty sum of money transferred over to the Varia accounts later, Giotto has secured Xanxus’ partly baffled, mostly irritated agreement for Fran’s services. Fran turns out to be a rather… precocious young man, but he has Mist Flames and skills that almost rival Mukuro’s, and Giotto is relatively content to leave the breakout to him.

His confidence is not misplaced. Days and half a dozen more battles later, with Byakuran grandstanding across from him, Giotto’s entire ill-fitted, misfit Family is gathered, and the First Generation appears at Giotto’s silent command to unseal the Vongola rings.

(All of them know what he is, the soul peering out from behind Tsuna’s eyes. But in this one moment, not even Daemon gives him away, and Giotto is free to finally unleash his carefully controlled wrath on the Family that had decimated his.)

Millefiore doesn’t stand a chance.

4. “You are not Sawada Tsunayoshi,” Mukuro - the older one - says in deceptively light tones as he joins Giotto on the balcony. It’s late, the night before they would all finally return to the past, and the two of them are probably the only ones still awake.

“No,” Giotto confirms, because there’s no hiding it from this man. “I’m afraid Sawada Tsunayoshi perished in Kyouya’s Box Weapon when he and Reborn attempted to force a Vongola Trial.”

Mukuro, staring out at the sprawling woods before them, does not visibly react, does not even move. For a moment, it doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing, and that’s what gives him away.

Giotto does not say he is sorry. He is, for this, and for too many other things to list, but whatever connection had formed between Tsuna and his Mist had been lost a long time ago, and sorry only sounds trite in the face of such a travesty. The only reason Mukuro had never drifted away, Giotto suspects, was because the Mist had refused to let go. Mukuro himself would never admit it, perhaps never even acknowledge it to himself, but if there was one thing Giotto had always envied Tsuna for, it was his ability to earn a Mist’s devotion so completely.

(And so it had hurt all the more to watch the years go by as Tsuna allowed Vongola to convince him to leave Mukuro in Vendicare. Hurt most of all to realize, one day, that Tsuna no longer cared so long as Mukuro continued reporting in and doing as he was told.)

“What will you do with my younger self?” Mukuro eventually asks, carefully void of every emotion save for the thinnest veneer of detached interest.

“Free him,” Giotto replies promptly, seeing no need for word games here. Reborn had tried to interrogate him about his Vongola Trial, and Giotto had given him every answer but a straight one. It had been highly entertaining. “If he wishes, he will have a place in my Famiglia. If he does not, then I will ensure he is able to start a new life elsewhere with his people, without Vongola dogging their every step.” He pauses, absently considering his hands, more solid than they’ve been in four hundred years. “Even Tsunayoshi’s fear of Reborn was not enough to stop him from asking repeatedly after you. This is the least I can do for your younger self when Tsunayoshi worried about him so often.”

Mukuro scoffs, a hollow puff of air that fades to nothing. “Had he a few more years in him, you would’ve had nothing to concern yourself with.”

Giotto inclines his head in acknowledgement but says nothing more. There is probably no one who knew Tsuna - who fought him and lost to him and understood him - more than Mukuro. The Mist doesn’t need Giotto expounding on the rise and fall of one of the brightest and most short-lived Skies the world would ever see.

“You will not tell the others about me?” Giotto asks instead, more curious than any kind of anxious about it.

Mukuro tips a mocking facsimile of a smile in his direction, looking him straight-on for the first time since his arrival. “What business is it of mine, if Vongola wishes to destroy itself?”

Giotto half-smiles, half-grimaces. He supposes this is hardly a surprise either; it was never Vongola that Mukuro swore unspoken fealty to.

So instead, he reaches out, gently catching one of Mukuro’s hands in his own and knowing he can only because Mukuro allows it. Mismatched eyes watch him like a hawk, a derisive curl on his lips that freezes when Giotto presses the flickering heat of a piece of Sky Flame into his palm.

Then he steps back, once, twice, enough room to sketch an esoteric bow, too formal for this age but recognizable enough here and now if Mukuro’s sharp intake of breath is anything to go by.

Gratitude. Apology. And a dissolution of debt and duty between Guardian and Sky.

If Mukuro so wishes, even after Giotto is gone, the shard of Sky will ensure a clean break from Vongola, and not even Sawada Tsunayoshi will be able to track his former Guardian down. It is all Giotto can offer him.

He straightens, glancing at the piece of Sky now settled into the shimmering form of a phoenix feather. A new life, if Mukuro wants it.

He meets the Mist’s gaze. Mukuro is the first to look away, fingers curling around the feather, eyes on the horizon, and he doesn’t speak again.

Giotto nods, takes his leave, and he does not see the Mist again, not this version at least. Once time straightens itself out, the adult Tsuna of this universe will return, and while Millefiore is no longer a threat, Vongola - and its Decimo - will still be the same stagnant bloodstained mess.

There is nothing Giotto can do about that, but at the back of his mind, he wonders if it wouldn’t have been better after all to have let Millefiore wipe Vongola out.

5. Later, much later, after a jailbreak and Daemon and a broken curse, Giotto and his Guardians - still no bonds, but he can’t seem to find a good time to get rid of them, so maybe instead of that, he can educate them to be better - sit down for a Family dinner at the most upscale banquet hall Namimori has to offer, with the Ninth and his men, the CEDEF and even Varia. They’re in public so everyone has their law-abiding citizen face on, but (a redo of) the Inheritance Ceremony is imminent, and Timoteo smiles, sly and pleased that all the pieces have finally fallen into place. He waves Giotto into the seat on his immediate right and doesn’t even question how very little Giotto resembles Tsuna these days, ascribing the changes to Reborn’s training and recent battles and growing up, and looking no further than that.

The food is good, Italian but cooked by the best chefs on Vongola payroll. Giotto stares Kyouya into grudging silence over the fare, and then he focuses on chatting amicably with Timoteo, weaving smooth flattery into casual but attentive conversation the way he’d learned to do a lifetime ago.

Giotto watched Timoteo grow up. There is no skeleton in his closet that Giotto did not witness him stashing away. But he is old and past his prime and he will soon learn that his successor is not as easy to control as he’d hoped, as he thinks, so Giotto can smile back now and give him his momentary triumph, smile and sip his wine and not let his eyes linger on every bite of food Timoteo takes.

During a lull in the conversation, he turns and catches Mukuro’s eye. His Mist is seated beside his female counterpart, all the way at the end of the line, farthest from his Sky to any outsider’s eye. But Mukuro smirks back from behind his cloth napkin, and as the Nono’s dessert is carried in, the faint twist of Mist Flames - unnoticed by all except two - darts into the panna cotta.

Timoteo eats his fill, compliments the chef, beams at Giotto’s gently filial fussing again like the kindly grandfather he excels at pretending to be, and nobody thinks to question how masterfully Giotto draws all attention to himself and his rowdier Guardians, never letting the generally jovial mood falter, his Sky Flames a subtle pulsing encouragement beneath it all to distract them from the knife at their backs.

The whole affair is a success. At the very least, nobody threw any food, no fights broke out, and no one lost their tempers. It almost feels like a miracle.

They part ways in groups, and to their credit, Hayato and Kyouya only try to kill each other after the elder Vongola party is gone. It doesn’t take long for Ryouhei to join in, and at a glance from Mukuro, Chrome scoops Lambo up and picks up her pace to catch up to a laughing Takeshi.

Mukuro falls into step beside Giotto. Giotto had asked, after the Arcobaleno business was finally over, if Mukuro would stay. Mukuro had asked what Giotto would offer if he did.

“A place in my Family, for you and yours,” Giotto had sworn. “And a hand in toppling the Vongola Empire once and for all.”

Mukuro had smiled, ten years’ worth of another world’s memories behind it, and six lives’ worth of suffering driving his answer.

“Tsunayoshi would never have chosen this method,” Mukuro says now, voice pitched low but as idly as if he were commenting on the weather.

Giotto smiles, grim and long past the point of any return.

Tsuna was his favourite. He reminded Giotto of the man he used to be, when Vongola was still a goal wrapped in optimism and determination, before they’d become embroiled in the mafia and Giotto had spent the next four hundred years after his death watching his life’s work build itself a throne of corpses.

Tsuna was his favourite, but he was also an ideal Giotto won’t ever be again, and cannot be if he truly wants to see this iteration of Vongola dead in his second lifetime. Tsuna would’ve been eaten alive by Vongola - Giotto had seen an entire future’s worth of proof of that.

“I am not Tsunayoshi,” Giotto says, and it is another regret he will have to carry, but their world is neither kind nor fair, and Tsuna as he was would never have survived it.

Mukuro studies him, a thoughtful tilt to his head, and something like fascination glitters in his eyes. “No, you are not,” He agrees. “But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Giotto glances at him, then ahead, at children who had almost killed and been almost killed mere days ago, now roughhousing amongst themselves. “The world could do with more Tsunayoshis.”

“The world needs more of you,” Mukuro retorts just as swiftly, a sardonic sort of amusement in his smirk. “In that other future, Tsunayoshi proved beyond a doubt that everything he promised, he couldn’t keep, didn’t he? And yet here you are, Vongola Primo, poisoning your enemies over dinner, and just yesterday you had me hide you while you met with Gesso and Simon and Giglio Nero in private. You certainly don’t waste any time.” His smirk widens. “If Vongola isn’t careful, you’ll turn half of Europe against the older generation before they realize it.”

Giotto hums and doesn’t deny any of it. “You would be willing to aid me though?”

Mukuro arches an eyebrow, and his right eye flickers briefly with Mist Flames. “Have I not been doing so already?”

Giotto nods. “Yes, and I am grateful. But lending a hand now is not the same as devoting at least the next ten years of your life to a goal most would consider impossible. And I am not Tsunayoshi.”

Mukuro’s steps slow, then stop entirely. Giotto blinks and halts as well, half-turning.

“Does that matter so much to you?” Mukuro asks, peering at him with surprisingly genuine puzzlement. “Do you think it matters so much to me? That you are not Tsunayoshi?”

Giotto half-shrugs, and Mukuro shakes his head. “Tsunayoshi had a heart that I will never fully understand,” He says, blunt in a way he almost never is. “He was naive and foolish, hopeful and soft, and it made him as weak as it made him strong. I could trust him to never turn on Chrome or Ken or Chikusa, even if they or I tested his tolerance, but by that same logic, I could never have trusted him to stand firm against Vongola’s ideals, no matter what he proclaimed. And I was right, wasn’t I? In the end, Vongola destroyed him, and he became one of them.”

He pauses, his gaze sliding away, hands coming together to twist one of the rings on his fingers. Then he looks back at Giotto, and his next smirk is equal parts challenge and approval. “You though. You have witnessed the results of letting your previous Mist Guardian walk free, and spent years watching your descendants commit atrocities in the name of strengthening your organization. If I were to promise you my loyalty, and then betray you sometime down the road, you would slit my throat yourself. But at the same time, at least I know - you are both ruthless enough and determined enough to see your objectives through to the end, with a conviction that’s centuries in the making. The current Vongola would have to kill you to stop you.” His right eye flares indigo again. “So I suppose that is where I come in.”

Up ahead, the others turn a corner, still bickering. Giotto thinks Takeshi has probably noticed that he and Mukuro have fallen behind, and of course Chrome knows, but neither of them stops to wait either.

Mukuro steps back, once, twice, and Giotto’s eyes widen as the Mist lifts a hand to brush over the earring he hasn’t stopped wearing since he got it. And then… well.

The Mukuro from the future must’ve known how because this Mukuro doesn’t even look awkward as he drops to one knee and bows his head, just a dip, slow enough to look deliberate, proud enough to meet Giotto’s gaze again afterwards.

“You asked for ten years, Neo Primo,” Mukuro announces. “So, very well, I will pledge you ten years of my life, for you to use as you see fit, so long as you keep your word. We can revisit this in a decade, but for the next ten years, I will make you untouchable to your enemies and sow discord amongst them in your name.” He smiles and it’s a mad and bloodthirsty thing, the same furious hateful beast he’d aimed at Daemon Spade when he’d sought to rip Chrome from Mukuro’s side. “And should the worst come to pass and I go the way of my predecessor, may my life be forfeit at your hands.”

He reaches up, catches Giotto’s hand in his own, and his red eye glows as orange and indigo burst into existence between their fingers, a blaze of light under the night sky as they twine together, fierce and unyielding and true.

They both gasp from the surge of power that rushes through them as the Guardian bond snaps into place, the first one Giotto will ever have in this body, the first one in over four hundred years, a core of Flame that promises a home, something Daemon had never been able to give him, and Giotto doesn’t even think before he’s yanking Mukuro to his feet and reeling him close.

Tsuna had been short for his age so Giotto isn’t quite eye-level with his new Mist, but it hardly matters when he curls a near-bruising grip along Mukuro’s jaw and sees the same hunger and possessiveness he feels reflected in the illusionist’s eyes.

“A Guardian bond is not something I take lightly,” Giotto murmurs, and he knows even without a mirror that his own Flames are burning in his eyes. “You are mine now, and I do not share. In ten years, you will pledge another ten, and another ten after that, and any who dare to try and take you from me, I would run rivers red with their lifeblood.”

(These oaths are old, old and binding and near-forgotten, bastardized ten ways to Sunday but still echoing of power, and even in Giotto’s time, only G and Ugetsu had sworn them. That his new reign would begin with one, when as far as Giotto knows, none have spoken them in centuries - perhaps it speaks of the dawn of a new age.)

Mukuro inhales shakily, not at all prepared for the sheer depth and intensity of a true Flame bond. But the grip he has on Giotto’s wrist is just as tight as Giotto’s, and it only takes him another breath to regain his bearings.

“As you Will it, Giotto,” Mukuro murmurs, and it crackles over Giotto’s skin. No one has spoken his name since his resurrection.

The bond settles between them, calm now but no less potent. Giotto lets go, tickling a tongue of Sun-tinted Sky Flame along Mukuro’s skin to soothe the sting left behind. Mukuro only huffs a breath of laughter, gaze still unwavering on Giotto’s face.

“Well then,” The Mist - Giotto’s Mist - smiles, quieter, more serene, like a glass-spun secret cloaked in shadow, but exultantly bright all the same. “Long live the new King. May your reign be long and prosperous.”

[onceabluemoonwrites]

Cursed Kiss - Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

Title: Cursed Kiss Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

Author: OnceABlueMoon

Rating: T

Pairing: Bianchi/Chrome Dokuro

Tags/Warnings: There is some violence

Prompt:  Lightning day: curses for @khrrarepairweek

Summary: The tale of Kuromu Dokuro is an old one, perhaps preceding even the existence of the monster hunters. To think the woman in the tale- the monster she became- is here, in front of her? Bianchi shudders to think of it. 

Still, she has no choice. Her grip tightens on the knife in her hand, but before she can start to make her move, Kuromu- Chrome?- raises her hand, shaking her head. ‘’No need to fight your way out, darling, if you want to buy your brother’s freedom. All you need to do is take the geas on in his place.’’ 

~~

Monster hunter Bianchi bargains her freedom for her brother’s and has to stay in the vampire Chrome’s castle. But the horrors within are not the shadows that whisper and follow Bianchi wherever she goes- no, to the contrary, the horrors are inside the mind of her captor. 

AO3 link

Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

The banging upon the gate is like a heartbeat. It’s so consistent, the battering ram colliding with the wood and steel, the precision almost inhuman. It would make Bianchi laugh, if the fear didn’t close up her throat. She reaches down, taking Chrome’s hand, not taking her eyes off the courtyard before them. ‘’They won’t take you.’’ She says it with desperation colouring her words. ‘’They won’t take you, I won’t let them!’’

She promises it with all that she has in her. It has been so long since she’s felt actual happiness. Now she has it, she won’t let go of it so easily. She’ll fight to the death to defend it, to defend Chrome, if she must.

Chrome laughs and it startles Bianchi. She’s so much older in soul, and yet her body seemingly younger than Bianchi’s. Her gothic dress swishes around her feet, showing her pale, naked feet as she lets go of Bianchi’s hand and begins to circle her, as if taking her in.

Bianchi feels naked. She hasn’t worn her armour in almost a year now. It hadn’t exactly been meant for anything more than hunter raids, far too stiff for the necessities of daily life. It had to be, in order to be strong enough to defend against the monsters of the night. The dresses that Chrome had stored in the castle weren’t exactly the kind that could be worn to battle, but they’d been good enough for a quiet life here. Good enough for spars with Chrome and writing letters to her brother.

God, Hayato. What is she going to tell him if she dies here tonight? He won’t understand. He never did.

Or, perhaps, he is the only one who can understand. Nobody loves monsters as much as her brother, after all, and even if it landed her here, in this moment, she can’t resent him for it. She loves him. She loves him, just as she loves Chrome. Tears well up in her eyes. She hates herself a little for that. This is no time to cry. This is the time to fight.

~~

As all stories must start somewhere, Bianchi’s start the night her mother gets killed. Now you must know, her mother loved her very much. Bianchi loved her mother less, but perhaps that had more to do with how often she had to fish her little brother (her father’s bastard) out of the well after her mother tried to drown him again.

Funnily enough, her mother doesn’t get killed by the beast tearing it’s way through their village directly. There are no bite marks on her body, no slashes through her throat. There is no sign of the were-creature anywhere on her body. No, her mother tried to get away and fell into the very well she tried to drown Hayato in so often.

Bianchi wonders if karma is real, as she stares down at the corpse floating in the water.

It hurts, a little, to see her. But there are many bodies to bury, and her mother is just one amongst the many. She sends Hayato back inside and calls Renato over. ‘’Help me get her out.’’

‘’For the funeral pyres?’’ Renato asks, as he rolls up his sleeves.

‘’No, before she poisons the well or something. We’ve got to drink that water. This is just plain unsanitary.’’

He cocks his head, looks at her, considering, and then says: ‘’Hey, how do you feel about joining the resistance? We’ve always got room for people like you.’’

People like you, Bianchi thinks now, after years, and the resistance. Renato might’ve meant it as a compliment, but it really, really wasn’t.

~~

She joins the resistance with her little brother clinging to her skirts. She’s fifteen, already tired of the world, and doesn’t flinch when they hand her a knife, hand her a bow, hand her a sword and tell her to figure it out before throwing her onto the battlefield. She figures it out in time. She survives.

They give her armour after that, as if now she’s properly blooded, didn’t die at the first raid, she’s worth investing in. She likes how heavy it is on her shoulders. It feels like responsibility. Like a shield. Like she’s protecting people.

‘’Why do you kill them?’’ Hayato asks one night as she tucks him into bed.

Bianchi sighs. ‘’Because they eat people, Hayato. Because vampires drink and werewolves bite and all that bumps in the night is evil. Because they’re monsters.’’

And Hayato, only seven, looks up at her with trembling lips and says: ‘’Must monsters always be killed for being what they are?’’

Bianchi’s heart clenches. Survived again, that little monster? She hears her mother’s voice echo in her head. ‘’No, Hayato, of course not. We only- We only kill monsters that do unforgivable things, okay. Only unforgivable things.’’

His eyes are filled with fear and she can only say: ‘’It doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re not a monster, you hear me?’’

‘’But what if I am?’’ His eyes are brimming with tears and she folds herself around him, hugging him tight.

‘’Then I’ll forgive you everything. Everything you can think of. Anything, any crime you’ll ever commit. I’ll forgive you.’’

‘’You promise?’’ he asks.

‘’I promise, with the force of the moon and the sun and the stars, and the very sky above us.’’

He sleeps soundly that night.

~~

That very promise comes back to haunt her in the spring of Hayato’s fourteenth year of life. He’s nearly at his majority. Fifteen will make him capable of apprenticing properly, whether that is with the hunters or anywhere else, so Bianchi’s let him wander. He’s old enough now, and she knows his heart doesn’t lie within her own profession, the killing of monsters, and she’s hoping that he’ll find something he likes enough to make his living out of it.

Deep inside her heart, she knows he is best suited to be a scholar, smarter than her by leagues, but being a scholar requires proper schooling beyond just an apprenticeship. As much as she wants to give him the world, they don’t have the money for that kind of thing.

He says his goodbyes to her when he leaves to see the great market, to find out if being a merchant could possibly satisfy him. She laughs and ruffles his hair and calls him her ‘almost-adult’. He bears it scowling and all, but the next morning his horse returns without him, and Bianchi’s heart is in her throat.

She goes to the forest.

~~

Now here is the thing: Bianchi doesn’t find the castle until she is thoroughly lost, after she’s killed wolves that attacked her, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, until the rain has soaked her through. She is, thus, allowed to be excused for the fact she didn’t immediately cotton on to it’s aura from a mile away, even though she really should have.

The gargoyles on the roof are ugly and snarling, the grand, French baroque build of the thing in disrepair, as the gate stands tall. It emanates the feeling of magic and it smells like a curse. Bianchi’s never really been able to describe magic in terms other than that. It is a feeling, as well a smell, and curses smell like thorns and rotten, withering roses. The castle reeks of it.

She should have known a place like this would have attracted her brother. She stalks towards the open gate and kicks a side door until it opens up, not trusting the main entrance. The castle is huge, sprawling even, and Bianchi listens for a second, but she hears no sound beyond the rustling of the wind. There are spider webs on the ceiling, and dust flurries around with every sigh of the wind through the broken windows, but Bianchi ignores it as she lights a torch and gets it off the wall. She makes straight for where- logically, seeing the lay-out of the castle- the dungeons must be.

She finds him there, shivering slightly in the corner of his cell. She feels the urge to kick the bars to get his attention, but that would make a large amount of noise, and she isn’t willing to risk that in enemy territory.

Laying into him, now, that she is willing to do in enemy territory. ‘’Hayato,’’ she snarls, trying to keep her volume down, ‘’What in the great blazes where you thinking, going here?!’’

Hayato startles, bumping his head against the wall. ‘’Shit! Woman, couldn’t you not scare the daylight out of me?!’’

She narrows her eyes and glares him into submission. He throws his hands up. ‘’Fine! I was going to the market, honestly. I just… Came across this castle and wanted to talk to its owner? How was I supposed to know she would imprison me?!’’

‘’Maybe,’’ Bianchi hisses through gritted teeth, ‘’Because this place smells like it belongs to a witch or a vampire, and both would like your very human blood? God, Hayato, I thought you were over this!’’

Now he’s looking hurt. ‘’Just because you refuse to see not all creatures of the night are bad doesn’t mean the rest of us have to! And okay, maybe vampires are a little bitey, but most witches don’t hurt a fly!’’

Bianchi’s breath catches in her throat, all her anger draining out of her, making place for a deep, deep fear. ‘’Hayato, how do you know that?’’

‘’Well, maybe I know a couple of witches here and there…’’ he trials off when her head thunks against the bars.

‘’One of these days, I’m going to say goodbye to you and you’re never coming back, are you? Because you can’t see danger when it’s coming straight at you. How many times, Hayato?’’

He doesn’t answer.

‘’HOW MANY TIMES?’’ Her breath turns ragged as the scream leaves her throat. ‘’Did you make deals with them? Hayato, please tell me you didn’t sell your soul.’’

He fidgets. ‘’No… But I did give them a little hair.’’ He sneaks a glance up at her, before getting defensive: ‘’Only a little bit! God, don’t get so worked up about it! Yamamoto might be a basket case but I know he won’t use it for evil!’’

Bianchi wants to scream, but the shadows around them are starting to get darker. Darker, and inkier, running more and more like ink blotting on paper. The owner of the castle is getting closer, and Bianchi needs to know what she’s going to fight. ‘’Who put you here?’’

Her brother opens her mouth, but she knows that look so she cuts him off. ‘’No, what put you here?’’

That’s when she feels icy fingers on the back of her neck. Bianchi freezes.

‘’Wouldn’t you like to know?’’ a voice as sleek and smooth as silk murmers in her ear.

A shiver works it’s way down her spine.

She whirls around and is faced by- a vampire? A witch? It’s hard to make out, with how strong the curse emanates from her. It’s a woman, in any case, skin as pale as that of a corpse, purple bags underneath purple eyes, and hair long and violet, in an half updo underneath her little black top hat. Her dress is black and it blends in with the inky shadows, melding until it seems like she’s wearing nothing but the darkness itself.

‘’Release my brother and I might refrain from killing you,’’ Bianchi hisses, because Hayato is her first priority, now and forever.

The woman starts to laugh, and ah, yes, there they are. Fangs, elongated in her mouth. ‘’You, threaten me within my own walls? Darling, your brother went through the main entrance, and all who pass there are bound to me. No mere human could kill me in my homestead.’’

A trident appears at her side, as if summoned from deep within the castle. Bianchi’s eyes widen. ‘’K- Kuromu Dokuro?’’

The woman smiles, sweet and yet insidious. ‘’It’s pronounced ‘Chrome’, but yes. That would be me.’’

It can’t be. Kuromu Dokuro is an old tale, perhaps preceding even the existence of the hunters. To think the woman in the tale- the monster she became- is here, in front of her? Bianchi shudders to think of it.

Still, she has no choice. Her grip tightens on the knife in her hand, but before she can start to make her move, Kuromu- Chrome?- raises her hand, shaking her head. ‘’No need to fight your way out, darling, if you want to buy your brother’s freedom. All you need to do is take the geas on in his place.’’

That was fine- that was good, in fact. It’d get Hayato out of the way, and while getting a geas on you while not knowing what it was was never good idea, it was better than having an unknown geas on him. ‘’Fine,’’ she barked, ‘’But you get him back to the village safely!’’

‘’Ane-san, no! You don’t like monsters, you won’t like it here at all!’’

She sent him a scathing look. ‘’You’re in a cell, Hayato, I’m taking that geas from you whether you want it or not.’’

She doesn’t look at him as the shadows drag him out of his cell and into the cold, hopefully back towards the village. Chrome darts forwards as the shadows come back, bringing her something that looks like a fallen star. She snatches it out of their grasp, before putting it on Bianchi’s tongue and forcing her to swallow.

It tastes like defeat, and the geas feels heavy upon her heart.

~~

The geas, as she later finds out, imposes a list of requirements that steadily get more curious as they come along: the first she discovers is that she cannot attack Chrome, a reasonable geas to place upon one’s own castle if one is powerful enough to cast one in the first place. The second requires Bianchi to have dinner with her each night. The third, to her surprise, is that the longer she spends time with Chrome, the more the shadows listen to her.

It’s very convenient when she wants a glass of water in the middle of the night. Still a little creepy though, with the way the shadows reach for her at every corner now. But Bianchi doesn’t think she minds.

Spending time with Chrome is, surprisingly, no real hardship. The vampire likes fine red wine just as well as Bianchi does, and she makes a mean pasta. Or the shadows do- Bianchi’s not entirely clear about who exactly mans the kitchen here. She’s never seen a single soul besides her, Chrome and the shadows.

Sometimes she thinks she can hear the shadows cry, a thousand voices crying out for their freedom, but surely that’s just her sleep deprivation acting up again.

Bianchi doesn’t mind the castle, but her sleep is troubled anyway. She’s not used to being away from Hayato for this long, despite her many usual hunting trips.

It is thus, one night, that she decides to get her glass of water herself, instead of asking the shadows to fetch it for her. They push and pull at her, as if trying to prevent her from going towards the west wing, but Bianchi likes the motion of it. Likes how it makes her work to move forward. She’s strong- they can’t hold her back properly, inky and weak to light as they are.

Instead of the kitchens, she ends up in a room she’s never seen before. There’s a portrait, above the hearth, of a man and a woman and a little girl. The girl is looking up to her parents, but her face is stricken off the canvas.

Bianchi knows who she’s looking at anyway. The tale of the princess Kuromu Dokuro leaves no question about it.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ Chrome’s own voice sounds behind her, tired and dead.

Bianchi frowns, turning around to face her. The bags underneath Chrome’s eyes are even deeper than normal, and her violet eyes have turned a deep, wine-dark purple. ‘’I can’t sleep,’’ she says, ‘’Want to throw knives at the chandelier in the main hall and see who can bring it down?’’

Property destruction is one of their favourite games these days.

Chrome shakes her head. ‘’Not unless you want me to slip and drink from you.’’

Bianchi cocks her head. ‘’I thought that’d be part of the geas. The right to drink from me, I mean.’’

Chrome laughs, deep and without humour, a sound at odds with her strangely delicate appearance. She’s so much smaller than Bianchi, and yet, without a doubt, far more powerful. ‘’You know very well that the geas is a rule of three. The three commandments I asked of you are the ones you’ve already discovered. I wouldn’t ask more of you.’’

‘’You’re Kuromu Dokuro, though.’’ Says Bianchi, without thinking.

She pays for it when Chrome flinches back, looking genuinely hurt before her mask slides back on again. ‘’I thought you’d know me better than that, by now.’’

Chrome turns decisively, her skirt flaring out, and leaves her own quarters at a sedate pace. It doesn’t change what it is, though. She’s fleeing.

She’s fleeing Bianchi, and Bianchi doesn’t know what to do, because Kuromu Dokuro is a monster, but perhaps, Chrome Dokuro is not.

If only she’d known that before hurting the person she’s forced to live with.

[watch-out-for-them]

Why do people hate on FE: Fates so much?

Ahh, I’m probably not the best source of this, but here’s what I’ve gathered:

(tldr; fates is very popular with newer players for reasons older players seem to hate, diverges from classic gameplay, and has bad writing, and poor characterization along with bad troupes.)

Fates/Awakening/SoV are all the most recent games, on a very accessible system, and published all around the world. Out of the 3, Fates was super hyped up, everyone was talking about it when it was coming up. Its the most popular with newer fans, so units from it (read: Camilla, Xander) are often more favored than others when getting alternate costumes in Heroes (I got this anon while reblogging stuff from the new Wings of Fate Banner, so). But then again, so are Awakening units.

Besides it being popular, it’s also a lot different from older games, via mechanics. I haven’t played nearly any of the older game, and I’m hardly started on PoR, but here are a few things:

1. First of all, weapons never break like they do in previous installments (except for staves). Both good and bad, because once you buy a weapon its always there, but it raises the price of weapons too.

2. Like in Awakening, you have your own avatar unit. Controversial, but this wasn’t started in awakening at all. Shadow Dragon, a Japan-exclusive DS title made the idea of an avatar unit popular. It wasn’t until awakening that marriage was introduced.

3. It introduced new modes into the game. Classic is the original style where units die for real if they die in battle. Casual (introduced in awakening) has units revived in battle, the turn after they die. And then there’s lunatic (very hard difficulty), normal (how the game was intended to be played), and an easy mode as well. This made the game more receptive to new players, but made some older (meaner) players upset, for whatever reason.

Other than that, (and things I may like, not know about or overlooked), a lot of people HATE the story. It’s disjointed has a lot of plot holes and overall could have been written better. Now, I started with Fates, and I still love it to pieces, so I’m kind of blinded by nostalgia, but looking at it objectively… there’s a lot of stupid things that happen. A lot of deaths feel forced (in birthright, if you don’t have Kaze at A rank by chapter 21ish, he dies. I didn’t know this my first run because I married him skjdn), or just… not very emotional.

Oh, haven’t even got to the worse part though. In Awakening, second gen units came back to the past in order to help their parents. It was a very big plot point and made sense with the story. In fates… we got deep baby realms. The first time you get any two units (who can have a child together) married, you get this little cutscene talking about the deep realms and it’s kinda ridiculous. It implies a couple get’s married, the woman get’s pregnant during the war, and after that child is born is set into a “pocket realm” where time flows differently. Often time, when you recruit a second gen unit, they could be very close to their parent’s age. Rhajat, Hayato’s child, even claims shes older than her (albeit young) father.

Another thing is, a lot of (mostly girl) units are implied to be much older than they look. And if their part of the first gen, they can get married and have children. This mostly applies to Sakura and Elise, but Nyx is pretty bad, and Hayato could even be put into this category.

There’s probably even more to it, but yeah.

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card-hen 1 | Gakuen Babysitters 1 | Idolish7 3 | Zoku Touken Ranbu Hanamaru 1 | Karakai Jouzu no Takagi-san 1 | Miira no Kaikata 1 | Death March 1

The debuts for the winter season keep coming, but we’re almost at the end of them with this post.

Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card 1

Note I don’t have any prior experience with Cardcaptor Sakura aside from 1 volume of manga and watching the show in passing while other people were watching it, plus knowing about a few spoilers and the show’s reputation as a seminal magical show show…then in more recent days, I finished 2 episodes of it (in fact as of the day I’m typing this, I finished episide 2 today!).

This OP makes Sakura look like later-stage Sailor Moon, and I think that’s the point.

Where did the bear in Syaoran’s hand go when Sakura hugged him?

Eriol! I don’t really know much about him, and I knew I should’ve known about him before starting this, but…it was a bit of a shock to see a character I technically haven’t seen the debut of with my own eyes.

I get the feeling these are the “two bears” from the prologue OVA…

Emails! In the world of Cardcaptor Sakura! Wow, I feel old…and I didn’t even grow up with her.

Hot dang! Gimme dat bishie (Yue)! I knew he was coming, but…I still don’t really know how he came to be!

Wow, this Yamazaki kid spouts such rubbish! I’m looking forward to seeing him in the main series now.

It’s pretty obvious I need to watch the original before understanding this fully, so I’m putting it on hold.

Gakuen Babysitters 1

I’m here for my Ume and Nishiyama. I’m not particularly good at dealing with kids, especially younger kids, but this doesn’t make me run for the hills either.

Ryuichi involves the kanji for “dragon” and Kotaro has the kanji for “tiger”.

That man with the hat is so not sketchy…

I’ve never heard of NAS before (but I have heard of NAZ through Idolish7).

That joke Saikawa told actually worked! These shows may all be middling this winter, but I’d be happy with even some of them on my docket. I’ve been pleasantly surprised more often than not that I haven’t found “stinker of the season” yet.

The comedy for this show’s really on point, although the overall design is a tad lackluster.

K-Kamitani?! Apparently Ume-chan’s character is Hayato Kamitani, so that’s how Ume got involved, so to speak. This sudden intro of 4 kids works on a story scale, but not in a way any person can process without pausing the video (or getting individual intros later).

Well, there are those individual intros I was asking for. Spoke too soon.

It’s actually kinda sad and quite telling how independent Kotaro is. (I still find it extremely hilarous Nishiyama – whose first name is Kotaro - didn’t voice Kotaro, although from a practical standpoint I understand why.)

Usaida has such bedroom eyes, it’s hard to ignore (because they make him look like En)! Dangit, I want my En back!

This brings back memories. My mum used to deal with kids all the time, and of course I was in the background for some of the shenanigans.

Dragon puppet symbolism, eh? (see the dotpoint a bit back about Ryuichi’s name)

As soon as this guy (who kinda looks like something out of Haikyuu) started demanding Taka come with him, I screamed. That character doesn’t seem very Ume, but…uh, it’s Ume. Gotta deal with it. Now that I listen to their voices properly though, Ume does have a “big bro” voice and Nishiyama a “earnest young man” voice.

Oh dear. Taka’s imprinted on me already, and I don’t even like boys that age.

I haven’t felt a genuine sense of danger from any of these winter shows until this one, so it seems like it’s one of the strongest debuts. Then again, CCS was my frontrunner before this and YuruCamp the second best, so I guess I can’t talk, eh?

Gah, I feel like I wanna cry now. That is a strong premiere!

I have a real problem with how anime tears come out in globs. Then again, I’m too much of a crybaby, as my notes can attest…so I guess no arguing here.

Should it be “Chairman” or “Chairwoman”???

Tsundere grandma. Now there’s something I thought I’d never think in my life…

Oh, I didn’t realise earlier but Taka = “hawk” and Hayato = “falcon man”. Animal jingoism at its finest!

Whoo, that was a real nice debut. I thought I was too old for this stuff, but it’s a keeper!

Idolish7 3

It’s a good thing I chose to cover episodes 1 – 2 so I won’t have to do them now.

I didn’t notice Nagi getting all huggy there with everyone in range (the first time, at least).

In case you don’t know from all the other idol shows, the centre is the one in centre stage. They’re often seen as the leader, so it’s a very important position.

This song can’t be anything but Monster Generation! Woohoo!

Wow, I haven’t seen one of those “watch from a distance” things in a while. Makes me nostalgic.

“Ichi” would probably refer to Iori, right? (He has the kanji for “one” in his name.)

Wowee, Nagi’s entendre…is really thick. Like pudding.

I agree, brothers can be so strange…

“…spoil me sometimes.” - Laying on the entendre thicker than custard here, Iori!

These boys are so into their Magical Kokona. I want in now.

Tamaki really is an En-chan…En-chan! Come back! (But why does Tamaki have no socks???)

These ED outfits are so elaborate! Ooh! Imagine a gender-swapped cosplay of them, that’s be great!

Who’s that on the edge of the ED video though? (You can see something hopping up and down.)

Zoku Touken Ranbu Hanamaru 1

Can we please just call this “Hanamaru 2” like Crunchyroll? “Zoku” just refers to a continuation…anyways, I got Hanamaru season 1 done last year while dealing with Katsugeki, so…here I come, sword boys!

Didn’t Hanamaru get a dub, by the way? Why would you dub this? For me to criticise it? The Touken Ranbu fanbase is kinda small…

W-Wait, did they just write Yams out of this season? Yams is the protag (if not a protag) here! What did Ichiki do now to deserve this???

It was getting too hard to jump through the proxies to play Touken Ranbu as of late, so I deleted my DMM account. Even still, the sword boys have multiplied since I left! Yikes!

Wow, unexpected 1st person bit there, Kashuu/Masuda. I thought I told the industry to stop doing that…

Exposition wave…I don’t need this wave, but I guess anime-only fans might. Carry on, Heshikiri.

So this multiple Konnosuke thing wasn’t a Katsugeki-only gag? Oh dear, my head’s spinning…

I don’t think I noticed, but Kashuu uses a brush (and not a specialty brush provided in the lid of nail polish). Probably because in Touken Ranbu, plastic isn’t much of a concept…

I still appreciate how Kashuu was this Saniwa’s starter. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy for my own TR days…

Photos are a nice way to recap. After all, 1 picture speaks 1000 words.

Wow, Shishiou’s a real chibi compared to these tachi. But Shishiou’s a tachi too…

Dang, I’m jealous. These bros were around when I was a TR player, and I missed ‘em! Dang Kebishii drops!

So that thing really is a nue. I could never see it on Shishiou’s card, y’know.

Hmm…considering the bros are new swords, the Saniwa’s strategy is to level up them up using the younger bro as leader (remember, the leader gets more experience). I see…

A “pincer attack” is a V shape, so the description fits the Crane Wings formation…

I can’t say I wasn’t impressed by Akashi just then. Come to think of it, he didn’t have any battles in Hanamaru’s 1st season.

A double attack suits a pair like this, of course!

Oh my gosh, they even got two dfferent voice actors for the Konnosukes! LOL!

Hanamaru’s EDs kept changing and it seems like they’ll continue to change, eh? This one looks quite spiffy.

The style of this ED doesn’t look like Hanamaru at all. It was probably done by the original illustrator for the swords.

It’s a great return to form for Hanamaru! I’m sold!

Karakai Jouzu no Takagi-san 1

Another day, another long title…plus this show I would’ve passed on, if not for that resolution…

Michiko Yokote is on a lot of shows I watch. I don’t really know what her influence is, but it seems she’s genuinely competent at what she does.

So…uh, Gendo pose anyone?

I think the teacher is the best part of this. I’ve been a bit of Tonari no Seki-kun, and the pull of that is the sheer ludicrousness of what Seki does with his stuff. However, there didn’t seem to be any intervention aside from Yokoi (I think that was her name)…

Nishikata’s reactions are just way too easy to read…

Well, that was okay, but it’s definitely a show to binge all at once. On to the “on hold” pile it goes.

Wait, but they missed a segment (the 100 yen segment). Gotta skip forward…

I didn’t get any laughs out of that show at all, but it’s still a decent school SoL.

How to Keep a Mummy 1

I have absolutely no experience with this manga, mind you…aside from seeing this tiny mummy on Comico…

Wow, if the mummy can fit in his shoe…how big is it?

The translation of “ready” is surprisingly ganbaru, and there’s a “but” mentioned in the Japanese title missing from the English. Also, “ready” has sexual connotations I’d rather not pair with a tiny mummy…I’d say the translation of the episode title should be something more along the lines of “White, Round, Small, Very Wimpy But [Also] Tries Its Hardest” (“It” being the mummy and not Pennywise…).

Is Dracula even public domain right now? (Does anyone care about the intellectual property of a classic vampire novel anyway? Because I sure don’t.)

Can we please start making jokes about how Sora’s daddy got him a mummy? It may seem childish, but I’m tempted to now.

This mummy is so adorable, I think it even beat out the kids from Gakuen Babysitters! Geesh, I’m spoilt this season! It completely set off my moe senses, and I don’t even have any!

It imprinted on him! Oh wow!

The mummy doesn’t even have a mouth…how can it spit things-oh wait. That’s the joke, isn’t it?

Come to think of it, crybaby characters ae few and far between. However, between this and Devilman…er, Crybaby…they’ve suddenly become popular…I guess?

It’s like a harem, only it’s between a dog and a mummy. Why I never…

One of the best things about anime is that you can learn about other cultures through the things included offhandedly…like that molokhiya thing that Sora mentioned. Apparently it’s a Jewish vegetable of some sort.

Do mummies get jet lag too? I was just thinking how Comico stories, with their full colour and yet simple design (to allow for downward scrolling and intake by the eyes) are perfect for anime.

I listened to the show with volume for once…because Tazuki seems to be the guy voiced by Keisuke Koumoto…and I think I was on the money there. Plus, Sora’s VA really sells the delivery of jokes (although he seems to be voiced by a woman…?)!

Yamanba…like Yamanbagiri’s namesake. The mountain hag, right?

Yep, I was right on the money with Tazuki being Koumoto. Kamitani Tazuki, it seems his name is…

This dance ending’s kind of cute, too. It’s a keeper!

Death March 1

(looks at title just above this dotpoint) C’mon. There’s no way I’m going to repeat “Death March to the Parallel World Rhapsody” over and over again for at least 11 or 12 episodes…by the way, I’m here because I was reading a KonoSuba novel and saw an ad for this, just in time for the anime…

“SADA”, my butt…

I love how they almost replicated Windows 8 in this show. Or is it 7, or 10? They don’t show the taskbar, which is the main visual difference between 8 and 10, but either way the Windows replication without being sued is really something…

This OP’s gonna make me dizzy someday…

Classes, eh? So that means Suzuki’s working with an OOP language. Plus you can see Cortana on the computer as the mention of classes goes by, meaning that person’s on Windows 10.

UML.

By the way, Satou is a fairly common name in Japan…at least to my knowledge. But Suzuki is a pretty common one, too, hence the mistake.

The client? Unless Suzuki is referring to the client as in the program, it could also mean the client as in the person/group who wants the game made. Considering what he says though involving a call, it’s probably the latter.

That’s the second show with a lost kid in the first episode. It seems a bit trite, don’tcha think?

According to his phone map (flip phone!), he’s in Akihabara.

FFL…eh? Google says there are multiple Final Fantasy games for Android, meaning I’ve probably thinking of Fire Emblem Fates (which doesn’t match), and there’s no such thing as Final Fantasy 50 (L in Roman numerals) yet.

That’s the second time they mentioned work/daily life being a death march. Can we not???

Come to think of it, Suzuki looks like Nobuaki (King’s Game), which doesn’t bode well for either show.

Apparently you can get Facebook Messenger for Windows 10, which I didn’t know…

“…being a corporate slave.”

C’mon! This ain’t the Animatrix, but still, if you’re trying to make stuff look technological, at least make it look a bit better.

Third time they’ve mentioned “death march”.

It might just be Houseki no Kuni’s fault, but this CGI is really janky.

Welllll…at least it looks like a game.

Welllllllll…at least they knew where to put their money for some sakuga…

This running through fields scene is either a homage to Every Anime Opening ever, or Pokémon. I distinctly remember it being in Emerald’s opening animation, at least.

Dude, if you want to look for a wyvern, do it from the ground where you won’t get injured, dumb Satoo.

Does this look a lot like Berserk (2016) with all its CGI knights…or is that just me?

Zena…? I might be showing how old I am with this (or how much I scour the internet), but…by any chance, do you mean this gal instead?

I think I’ve had enough of this flip for now, so I’m putting it on hold.