#I will say that I have no idea of the origin of any of these images so uh yeah sorry about that I gues

[pagesofkenna]

oh wow, I literally just listened to the Maintenance Phase episode on Blue Zones just yesterday! As expected, in that episode they debunk the wellness scams that have popped up around Blue Zones... but they also debunk Newman's debunking of Blue Zones, too lol

tl;dl, obviously a lot of the wellness scams popping up around the idea of Blue Zones are just that: wellness scams (any time someone says 'this one weird trick will fix your problems and make you hot and skinny!' they're probably trying to sell you a book. you're safe to ignore that). However, the initial researchers who 'discovered' and verified the Blue Zones weren't wellness people, weren't trying to sell anything, and they spent years verifying their data. their data isn't automatically false just because someone else tried to capitalize on it for a scam

so, if the Blue Zones do exist, it's probably just a weird genetics thing. There's nothing sexy and sells-a-book-worthy about that (additionally, lengetivity and average lifespan are far from the same thing; just because the odd person lives to 100 doesn't mean the average member of the community doesn't still die much younger)

(All of this taken with the grain of salt that Newman has a doctorate and the Maintentaince Phase people are journalists—maybe Newman is right and all of the original researchers are wrong. I'd want to see more research done, since it seems no one but Newman has published anything on this yet. Regardless, we can all agree that the lifestyle advice was a wellness scam from the get-go.)

i feel kinda silly for not guessing how much of this is just pension fraud lmao

[dkniade]

🌌💫🌒

Fan art of @kianamaiart’s characters from I Don’t Want To Be A Magical Girl! (with glasses, ft misc glasses characters & two IDWTBAMG universe fan characters)

I’ve been following this project from the start so it’s been great seeing interactions between the characters and how the fandom is so excited for it. ^^

I tried to draw the cast from memory and, while Miss seems a little different from canon, at least I got the dark hair roots and strands sticking out lol. But details aside they’re all recognizable! Which means they’re lovely designs that are unique from one another✨

Eclipse’s shades are a combination of his usual eye mask and the shades from this artwork, and Hoshi’s glasses are inspired by this one!🌒⭐️

Designs… (I don’t have a name for her yet but) the pigtails girl’s shapes are a combination of curves pointing downwards and curves pointing upwards. The idea ended up being that she’s on Eclipse and Lady DeVoid’s side so (after reading this post by Kiana about how most of the characters had Aika’s design as the springboard and are designed to complement eachother) I wanted her design to complement those two’s, with some influence from Zira. I like that the strands of hair on her forehead and the shape around them mirror both Zira’s hair and DeVoid’s horns haha. Plus, I was trying to figure out how to design her glasses and they ended up being kind of the inverse of Eclipse’s eye mask, which is very nice. Eclipse and DeVoid seem to be associated with sharp curves and circle shapes; maybe her outfit could be a lot fancier…

As for what her role might be in the story… I dunno, if she works with Eclipse and DeVoid, and Eclipse is all ~theatric and grand~ then maybe she could be like… his assistant… or something? Who knows. Or, I say “observer from afar” so perhaps she actually gets along with Zira well and they’d watch on the sidelines while Aika and Eclipse duke it out…?

Eclipse… Moon… Umbra… man what if I just name the pigtails girl Yueshi (月食, lunar eclipse)(for both the moon motif that Zira and Eclipse have, and the darkness motif that Eclipse and DeVoid have haha)

Shooting star and telescope don’t feel quite right, but with the circular shapes and the lunar eclipse, I could kind of see her having some star trail motifs with her sweater…

I guess Umbra would be the same type of elf (? darkness/concept personified?) as Lady DeVoid but I’m not sure haha. We don’t have much information on DeVoid other than the fact that she is darkness itself and that she lost most of her powers which she can’t remember how to use. Banished by a Star Guardian, revenge, recruiting Eclipse to help spread the darkness particles to destroy the Star Guardian… If she has a similar backstory to MLP:FIM’s Princess Luna then does that mean she was originally Aika’s teammate or something? haha

About Umbra’s hair… (Feel free to correct me for any inaccuracies.) I think from the reference photos I was trying to draw box braids but got so focused on also making the braids look like moon phases that I’m not sure if it’d still be box braids in the end? They seem more like cornrows now, at least for the side ones?

Here are some earlier versions of the OCs! and more rambling about designs

Well, initially I scribbled down Yueshi so I could experiment with values because I was thinking about how light-coloured pants draw the eye too much if the outfit or the top half of the character is darker. (Half way through she ended up looking like a IDWTBAMG character so I tried to match the proportions with Aika’s turnaround.) But I suppose if there’s enough contrast for the upper half (and IDWTBAMG’s stark black design style gives a lot of contrast) then it works out better. I think the combination of making Yueshi’s hair and the top half of her sweater black and the circle shape white worked out okay. Initially she had large round eyes so I tried giving her round glasses too but since she ended up being a fan character in the universe, it was too similar to Aika and Zira.

Umbra’s design kind of popped into my mind today so I tried to scribble it down and experimented with hairstyles. But green and purple are already associated with Zira, and that shade of lavender is more like Eclipse so I guess I’ll fiddle around with her colour scheme more. Maybe there’s not enough of the signature black there, and both could use some more details to match the level of details in the canon designs… (If Yueshi works under DeVoid then she’d probably get a fancy outfit too.) Then again, Umbra is more like Miss in terms of detail so it seems she’d be a background/supporting character or something…🤔

(I can’t seem to escape the puffy sleeves/cone shape silhouette🤔 Gotta diversify. Also, not sure if it’s ‘cause of the project’s style or if I just really love circles in character design haha)

[dolphin-diaries]

Detrans/Uncis (Part 2)

Originally published on Dolphin Diaries.

My first steps on a detransition journey were underscored by a peculiar mantra: “but I’m not detransitioning though.” I don’t feel like a man, so I’m not a trans man, but I’m still taking hormones, so I’m not detransitioning. I’m getting laser, but I’m not doing anything to my voice—hold on, actually I am. I’m lowering my dose of testosterone, actually, but I’m still taking it, and it’s not like I’m a woman. Only I want to be gendered by strangers as a woman, but that’s different. Actually I’d hate to have any further changes from T, so I’m not taking it at all—but I’m still not detransitioning though. Actually, could you speak of me as she? And her, too? No detrans though.

At a certain point it started to approach total absurdity. My friends and loved ones, well-versed in the queer gender soup, said nothing of it, but I am myself strongly averse to repression, denial, and self-deceit. So I was the first to say I was wrong. The first to say, “I am, though.” And at no point, from the beginning to the end of my epistemic conga, have I encountered any meaningful pushback from my close circles. No implications of betrayal, no cold shoulders, no silence when I walk in the room.

So why the mantra, then? Why was I so averse to the idea?

A large part of that was the politicisation of detransition; how indelibly it is associated with the Right—I said as much in my first essay. On a personal level, though, it was trivial to realise I wasn’t doing a grift. I was confident I hadn’t been brainwashed into anything. I’ve never had any meaningful contact or affiliation with any sort of gender-conservative person or movement.

And I did encounter pro-trans detransitioners. Some of them sniped back at the right-wing ones, some merely told their stories independently. Regardless, they—just like me—did not receive great or meaningful pushback from their trans friends, nor even strangers. They weren’t always understood or necessarily celebrated, but they were taken at their word, believed, and more or less respected as much as any gender deviant. Before I had any thoughts to detransition myself, I had seen detrans people beyond the pale of the rhetoric multiple times, and…

And I hated them. They made my skin crawl. I was never rude or condescending, and as those encounters were online-only, it was trivial to maintain respect and civility. I also realised I had no real cause to hate them. They’d done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. It was easy enough to say that in principle, when they talked in the abstract, but when they spoke of their bodies, their lives, the flesh and blood of it all, I felt such visceral revulsion as I might’ve never felt before.

Or have I? Have I known this already, this knee-jerk lip curl, this morbid disgust with another’s aberrant sex? This idea in my mind, spreading like cancer, that these people were wrong? That they’ve violated something inviolable? And how civility and compassion chiselled this violent core into arrogant pity towards an untouchable other?

No, I have known this. And not such a long time ago.

The Body Horror

When I first came out as trans to my university class—cis-majority if not totality, naturally—the perverse fascination with my body was hard to escape. They were mostly polite, of course. My university was very ‘decadent Westian’ (pardon the quasi-inside joke). We were hip with it. Nevertheless—

“It’s okay for you, of course, but if my future children—”

“You mean to say you date women? How do you—”

“You mean to say you date men??”

 “I wasn’t looking at you like that in the bathroom—I mean—uh—”

You don’t need to say it outright. Sometimes you don’t need to say a thing at all. I see it. I know.

That’s to say nothing of the doctors’ dehumanising dissection and the conservatives flashing the least flattering post-operative pictures like they’re gore. As a transsexual, you don’t even need dysphoria; you will be informed of your physical monstrosity in great detail and in every possible manner, from the subtlest glance to the bloody megaphone.

You learn to see transsexual bodies this way very young and not voluntarily, but I was not just any random person. I transitioned aeons ago, and I did not find the flesh of my fellow transsexuals a subject of psychosexual fascination anymore. We were just people. I’d learned that.

I thought I did, anyway.

That’s the thing about the biases that systemic oppression seeds and wields. They are, in my experience, nothing less than psychosocial cancers. Leave one cell alive, and they will surely regrow. Maybe into a new shape, maybe into something old, but they will never die left alone.

Although I’d mentally graduated to gender abolition and genderfuckery-as-political-stance, to activism, to gender constructivism and to queering everything, especially feminism, I’d first come to see transsexuality through the lens of the DSM. Not my fault or anything—that’s what was available to me. Transsexual transition, then, was first presented to me as a linear transformation, a path from A to B, at the end of which laid gender nirvana. Or, like, happiness and fulfilment, I suppose. White-people Buddhism was fashionable at that time, so please excuse my French.

So genderfuckery was all well and good, but you know, done respectably. For me, that was performing picture-perfect transsexuality, just a little spiced-up. So long as I still appeared cis. Anything that marked me as ‘clocky’ was unseemly; although I no longer needed to see any doctors about it, I’d been trained to sniff out such features and weed them out for the sake of gaining medical access. But that’s not the only way ‘respectable gender’ is ensured in queer circles. I’ve also observed it to be an absence of transsexuality. That is, gender is to be fucked with in words and pronouns and haircuts and porn—but to transition about it would be kind of gauche, don’t you think? A little gender-conformist?

Different outcome, but for the purposes of this discussion, same principle: it is disgust with transition. Visible transition, obvious transition; transition at all. My case was not altogether different from ideological non-transitioners; it was just modified to accommodate for some alteration of sex.

After nearly a decade of virilising HRT, my detransition wasn’t simply a matter of changing my name and putting on lipstick. That would just make strangers say ‘yas gurl.’ No, if I wanted to live as a woman beyond my immediate social circle, I needed to make more invasive changes. More than that, I wanted those changes. I didn’t merely wish to say I’m a woman—I wanted to look in the mirror and believe it.

The first truth a detransitioner learns is this: to detransition, you must transition again.

Again?!

Oh, it’s not the same as your first time ‘round, sure. Not just because of the difference in desired sex; if you’ve never had your gonads removed and have no prior issues with hormone production, you can simply cease to take HRT and stop depending on the vagaries of medical supplies. Doctors will, generally, be a little more understanding of your desire to change sex. Often, from their perspective, you’re not changing it; you’re fixing it. So if you were allowed to take the so-called ‘cross-sex’ hormones, you’ll probably be allowed the ‘same-sex’ ones. Conversely, because no such thing as a ‘detransition procedure’ usually exists, it’s a dice roll if any surgery will be covered by the state, your insurance, or anything. Yes, you’re ‘fixing’ your sex—but the fact you’ve ‘damaged’ it at all renders you a bit of an unreliable witness to your own mind. A little bit crazy, you could say. Isn’t it all quite literally your own fault?

However, the day-to-day mundanities of detransition would be highly recognisable to any trans person. Indeed, I got all the ideas on how to relieve my gender dysphoria from my transfem friends. I learned of laser hair removal from them, and they advised me on voice training. Some of the professionals that serviced me had no idea I was detrans—how would they? Kind of an odd thing to randomly bring up while getting your beard fried.

‘Detrans woman’ is not a legible social category (nor any other kind of detrans person). People know what these words mean—at least, if they’re up on the latest gender lingo—but they don’t truly know what that looks like. Maybe they imagine a particular grifter when you say ‘detrans,’ maybe it’s just a void—but it’s never you. No one will ever assume that’s what you are.

So how does a detrans woman move through the world? She passes, of course. She is either assumed to be a cis woman, having worked to file off any signs of testosterone’s magic touch, or she stands out with those features. If she transitioned after adolescence, she might have a leg up on passing, but should a stranger’s transvestigation radar starts beeping, they will surely scan her for other hints. Sometimes they’ll find what was never there, and sometimes they’ll decree a feature that occurs in all women, cis and trans, a sure sign of inborn manhood. I’ve always had a visible Adam’s apple, for instance, but it didn’t use to be proof I was born a man. Now, though, take that and a bad voice day, and I don’t have a leg to stand on.

And if someone decides I don’t belong in a women’s bathroom, do you think it’ll help if I cry I was born to piss here?

Here’s the second truth a detransitioners learns: it doesn’t matter how many times you transition, to what end or for what reason. If you do it at all, you will never be cis again. It’s the real red pill—the one the Wachowski sisters intended, not what the chuds on the internet made of it. Your body, your social and legal history, your continuity of self—it is different now. Not the way it’s supposed to be. Changing sex at all was never meant to be.

Regime and Treachery

Um-actuallying people who think I’m a trans woman will not help me under most circumstances. It won’t help with a strange man in an alley, and it won’t help with an employer that discovers my last manager knew me under a male name. In one case nothing but a good run will help, and in the other—come on now, they won’t think any better of me.

It will not make me cis, and it doesn’t help—under most circumstances.

Detrans women aren’t the only ones which may be assumed for trans women. Cis women that never touched a drop of testosterone get transvestigated too—not nearly as frequently, but it happens all the same, and regularly. The case of Imane Khelif is one that probably jumps to mind first these days, but she is perhaps in the minority of women that never responded to such accusations by loudly proclaiming she is completely and utterly unlike those filthy transsexuals—she is a real woman!

Detrans women have the whole transsexuality thing in common with trans women, of course. But they aren’t quite the only ones—intersex women that were assigned female at birth are also often assumed to be transsexual. They are also subject to severe medical violence and neglect. Some require exogenous hormones to stay healthy. Some wish to take ownership of their body via voluntary sex alteration, for a change. It is rather transsexual-like, all in all.

But yet you will not search long to find similar underbus-throwing. The AFAB intersex woman is not like that trans woman—she deserves gender-affirmative treatment. She’s a real woman. The birth certificate said so.

And so too the detrans woman, despite all her history, despite the indelible mark of transsexuality, looks at the dangling carrot of Real Womanhood—and like a dog, jumps.

She will never be allowed the full extent of it. It is irreversible damage, after all. That’s important. The detrans woman that betrays her sisters—her class, even—must forever cry about the wounds transition left on her, must never heal from them. And trust me, the cis aren’t nice about it behind her back. The detrans woman is promised a shred of cis-ness, of real-ness—but only so long as she divorces herself from all things transsexual. Loudly, repeatedly. The moment she stops, she will be reminded: she too is transsexual. She has seen sex/gender for what it is; her body is evidence. She has eaten of the tree of knowledge. It’s only at the regime’s great mercy that she can peek into Eden—but god forbid, never enter.

Because what would happen if the ‘damage’ wasn’t irreversible? If society allowed the detrans woman to be a woman wholly and totally—its woman, real woman? Why, it would mean sex can be changed without repercussion. It would mean you could leave gender.

It wouldn’t quite mean that trans women are women and trans men are men—it would only allow that your birth sex can be ‘returned to.’ But if even that much was permitted, it would make transition no longer a threat. You could do it and come back just fine, see? What’s there to fear? Why not just try it? And if you can just try it, just leave and come back as you please—how can you force people to obey gender?

It would mean I could opt out of womanhood any time. Of the mandate of reproduction, of subordination, of sexual and domestic servitude—of the constant fight to break free of those things. I could opt out even if I didn’t like being a man. I’d always have one foot back in the door, if I pleased. And that’s the thing about the patriarchy: women must never be allowed to leave. Or to desist, or to fail. For that they must be punished. Want fewer lashes? Kick the weaker bitch out the door.

Cis-ness is a regime. A status quo. To define it merely by the relationship to birth-assigned sex is erroneous—intersexness reveals this, but if you’re the kind of person who thinks the intersex are some sort of rare and bizarre exception (they’re not), perisex detransitioners must surely hammer the nail home. To be cis is not merely to self-identify as the sex on your birth certificate; who’s even looking at those? It is to live in accordance with your biological destiny, and every social law that entails. This destiny is assigned at birth, yes, but it does not end there: it follows you all the way.

Cis-ness is not an identity—it is a reward for doing as you’re told.

The Freedom of Sex

It is obvious, then, why detrans medical care is a pain to get even though you’re complying with your birth sex assignment. That is the true engineer of detrans misery, of dysphoria and resentment. To come to dislike the features you’ve acquired during transition is one thing—but to be prevented from changing them? To be looked at like a lunatic? To not know what to do, because information about de/transition and how it works is so understudied and obscured?

If transition was easy, known, free—more people would detransition, certainly. But that wouldn’t mean much. Because they’d be people like anyone else. Their bodies—transsexual bodies—would be just the same, just as worthy. They would be real.

The implications are even greater than that. Freedom of sex, as Andrea Long Chu puts it, means a freedom to change anything about your sex, in any way, for any reason, without restriction. Not the A->B path I was first taught under the illusion of two wholly distinct, non-intersecting sexes—rather, the tweaking of individual aspects. It is to really examine how sex works and take it apart on your person. It is what some trans people already do, with microdosing and what you might call small acts of detransition. If you don’t like the beard after T, why not zap it off? If you want to be on oestrogen but don’t like the breasts—double mastectomy works just the same regardless of initial sex. The idea of customisable, ‘nonbinary’ transition is one that’s gained prominence in recent years, even as attacks on all transition have exponentially increased.

Linear transition was written in an attempt to enforce a kind of gender austerity. Only those that really need it can get it, and so there must be competition, a hierarchy of haves and have-nots. There must be doctors that will prescribe you wrong dosages based on irrelevant research and leave you to wonder why you feel so off. You must not pick and choose the changes you want, because your sex is not for you to decide—it is to be granted to you, justified via a constant defense of self-identification. For the crime of violating sex/gender, your autonomy is branded as harebrained desire until proven otherwise. You’re not allowed to simply want something; you have to need it, hence the attempts to naturalise and essentialise transsexuality—you have to be real, you have to be born with it.

Above all you must be kept in the dark and hurting, so that any time someone suggests anything as ‘frivolous’ as the freedom to have their body as they wish, you snipe back: Shut up, vapid idiot! You’re going to hurt yourself in your stupidity! I’m not like you—I’m the one who’s really hurting!

To look at de/transition from the perspective of liberation is to ask: why? What’s the austerity for? We have the hormones, the surgeries, almost all the treatments we want, and the science isn’t calling it quits tomorrow last I checked. What horrible thing are we preventing by stopping people from doing to their sex whatsoever they wish? Are we running out of gender juice?

But of course, I already told you why. A smarter woman than me has also written extensively why. It is because sex and gender come with a fine print, a set of prescripts, which must be enforced. Irreversible damage to fertile wombs must not be allowed. The pedestal of Man must not be tarnished.

Freedom of sex, then, is the patriarchy’s anathema.

Detransition is part of freedom of sex. To accept acts of detransition as neutral is to allow that changes wrought by transition—just like naturally developed sexual characteristics—can be changed at will. Even disliked. To be free is to embrace the possibility of discontent, too; to allow oneself to do something you may regret later, and to be free to go back. To accept that nothing is final. Finality is one of the ways transition is made more difficult than it needs to be: you must be sure, must be happy with what you get—or else, it is argued, you never had a real need for it anyway.

That is plainly not true. I know that from my own example.

Transition served me well way back when. I do not know of an extant, realistic alternative that could’ve helped me as effectively. I was happy with my transition for years, and suicidally discontent before then. So who cares if transitioning proved in the end an imperfect permanent solution for me? Why must transition be held to perfection and permanence before it is allowed? It worked and it saved my life—who are you to tell me I shouldn’t have done it? And who are you to hold me hostage to it?

What if, even now, I enjoy that I’ve been constructed rather than simply born?

Not So Fast

Now that’s a nice thought, isn’t it? I can feel the gender nirvana coming on already.

Unfortunately, it can’t be that simple. To dream of a world you want, you must first contend with the world you already live in.

There’s a particular aspect that’s been largely absent from my essays so far: forced detransition and conversion therapy. In part, that’s because I argue from the perspective of a willing detransitioner with no shadow of a right-wing past or influence; a viewpoint which is lacking in the public conscience. Plenty of trans writers and thinkers already staunchly argue against forced detransition. They omit the detrans by virtue of either irrelevance or ignorance or both. When voluntary detransition is mentioned, people tend to merely point out there’s not that many of us. In actuality there’s very little statistical research to give definitive numbers, but it’s certainly true we are the minority of transitioners, and the absence of statistical evidence only further confirms: the Right are pulling numbers out of thin air.

Except, saying that is missing the point. The Right never cared about numbers. Or facts. Or logic. Their argument is that willing detransition ought to be the nail in the coffin for transition. If you retort that, um actually, there’s only half as many willing detransitioners, you still concede we exist and are a contradiction to you. That is enough to prove the Right’s point. I, therefore, wish to argue we are not a contradiction to trans rights or existence, but in fact on a continuum with both. That by virtue of our needs and lived realities, we are trans. Differently trans, but trans nonetheless. Some (trans and detrans) may not enjoy that assertion for a number of reasons, but the empirical fact is that we are irrevocably cast out of cis-ness, and we are in need of support structures that are near-identical to those of trans people. If by every function we are trans, then it’s under that name that we should be understood, because it is the only thing that makes sense and yields results.

But.

Detransition is not a neutral act in practice, even if it has the potential to be. Just like transition isn’t. Both are politicised, and the nature of detransition’s politicisation diverges from that of transition quite sharply.

In the current political climate, as trans people are being denied medical care and the anti-trans rhetoric pollutes every information space, this cannot be avoided or denied. Transition is reviled, and detransition is said to be the cure and is wielded as a punishment. Detransition-as-sex-freedom cannot be understood without also grappling with the other two kinds of detransition I distinguish based on motive and emergent needs: forced and coerced.

Forced detransition is the simplest to define. It is detransition that occurs when circumstances necessitate it as the only possible course of action, or it is altogether done unto the transitioner without any pretense of choice. The starkest example is, say, the new law in Florida which forcibly detransitions the incarcerated. But it needn’t be so wholly dystopian to qualify as ‘forced.’ Detransitions due to family or peer pressure, poverty, lack of access, or social isolation are all forced in nature, even if in the most technical sense you made the ‘choice’ to undergo it. If you wish you were still transitioning, it is forced.

Coerced detransition is a grayer area. It is motivated by an individual’s choice—not a lack of one or a pseudo-choice, as above—under circumstances in which transition is possible, but highly discouraged. You will naturally recognise conversion therapy as an extreme example, but it needn’t be so blatant. Often it isn’t.

Say, for instance, your closest circle of friends regards transition as a frivolous neoliberal excess. Or, let’s say, your cis boyfriend is perfectly happy you’re a man now, he swears, but—well, he’s not gay, you know? Just for you. It’s different with you. Except he still treats you the same way he did before your transition—but that’s a good thing, right? Good thing he still wants you at all? He would probably prefer a girlfriend, and he’s never dated men—actually, is this whole thing really that important to you? Aren’t you rushing into things? Do you really know what you want? You don’t mind if he slips up on pronouns when you’re not in the room, do you? 

Or maybe your general practitioner keeps insisting any time anything is wrong with you, that it’s the hormones’ fault. The classic ‘trans broken arm’ syndrome. And when something actually might be wrong with the hormones, the solution is always to just stop HRT altogether. And the surgeries—they’re just so dangerous; look at how horrifying post-op pictures are! It’s just biology, just facts, which don’t care about your feelings (but remember: it’s only a fact if it makes you feel worse.)

In other words, the decision to go through coerced detransition is made in a state of reduced agency, often caused by social pressure and/or misinformation about transition. Nothing is explicitly preventing you from doing as you will to your sex—and so it is precisely your will which must be subverted and undermined.

Notice that I make no claim whether detransition is right or wrong for the person in question. Perhaps they would’ve arrived at this decision another way, perhaps not. The point is, they are led to believe detransition is simply more sensible, healthier, better. It is the superior choice—so of course, they make it. In the end, coerced detransition is not truly dissimilar from the forced kind. What merits it separate consideration is that it’s designed to make you relinquish your own judgement, and your very own sense of self. Under such conditions, even if you would’ve ultimately detransitioned regardless, your relationship to your sex/gender is made maladaptive, and your independence as an individual is maliciously compromised.

The needs of coercively and forcibly detransitioned people are closely aligned. The forcibly detransitioned, naturally, require that the circumstance which necessitated their detransition is removed, and that their retransition is facilitated and supported. The coercively detransitioned may or may not require the same thing—some detrans people do, in fact, discover they genuinely desire detransition in less-than-ideal circumstances—but what they certainly need is a pathway to recovery from conversion. They are to be given their agency back, as well as access to accurate information about transition and transitioners, so that they are free to make the choice to retransition or to keep detransitioning as they see fit.

Both cases run counter to detransition-as-sex-freedom, to voluntary detransition—which is to say, a choice made due to a shift in self-perception, under circumstances in which continued transition is unhindered. The needs of a voluntary detransitioner are also starkly different, and most resemble that of a transitioner. A voluntary detransitioner requires a facilitated pathway to sex modification and gender recognition, from hormones to surgeries to legal procedure. It is the same thing for which trans people fight; it need only be recognised that voluntary detransitioners are part of that fight.

Grouping voluntary and involuntary detransitioners under the same umbrella makes little sense. We may superficially share some experiences, but such an equation falls apart from the perspective of rights and needs; it obfuscates motive, absolves abusers and systemic injustice, and it smooths over radical differences in our stories and perspectives. It draws a false equivalence that either condemns voluntary detransition or celebrates forced and coerced detransition, thus making it impossible to either embrace or reject detransition in good conscience. Thus no progress can be made.

In other words, conflation of voluntary and involuntary detransition only works from the cis perspective—from the perspective of the regime, which observes its deviants and wishes them gone, and rejects understanding them on principle. From either the trans or the detrans perspective, it is nonsense.

Except…

How do you know, though? How do you know? How do you know, when everything from your very cradle is telling you trans people are aberrant for existing, and when trans life is so hard? The coercively detransitioned wholeheartedly claim total autonomy; they are not really lying; from a strictly liberal-minded perspective, they are not wrong. How exactly can continued transition be ‘unhindered’ when society is engineered to always make it difficult?

How do you really know it’s your choice and your choice alone?

We all realise the answer: you don’t. You can’t. Not with complete certainty. There’s no such thing as a pure, unadulterated, individual choice, and there’s very rarely such a thing as an unhindered transition.

We live in a world that reviles transsexuality, that denies and despises the mutability of sex and stamps out any proof that gender is smoke and mirrors. The regime of cisheterosexism seeps through every layer of society and through every aspect of life. Purely voluntary detransition is, in the strictest sense, impossible. Sex/gender is a regime, and no act under it is free; all are forced to exist and be legible within its framework, or else be totally exiled. To exist socially is to exist under sex/gender.

This is not whatsoever unique to detransition. Or detrans people, or trans people. Cis women, for instance, must grapple with what it means to be a woman when Woman is defined as subordinate to Man—even as most do not transition about it. So, too, do men grapple with what their gender means when Manhood is defined and enforced via violence towards women, other men, and the gender-deviant. Even the cissexual must contend with the demands placed on their bodies—almost all transsexual treatments originate in cissexual healthcare. There is no exit from this struggle, because patriarchal sex/gender is constructed to be all-encompassing and mutually exclusive. Woman is everything Man isn’t, and vice versa; never the twain shall meet, and no stone will they leave unturned. No matter what you do, it will be sexed, it will be gendered, and though the conclusion will shift from occasion to occasion, in any particular instance it will allow for no ambiguity. Even when someone yells at you on the street, “Are you a chick or a dude?!”—that is not ‘ambiguity.’ It’s just a longer version of a slur.

Similarly, this is not the first (nor the last) time when sex/gender alteration has been contorted and weaponised against transsexuality—that is, sex-mutability’s most blatant, most acute manifestation. The Cass Review has notably cited the existence of non-transitioning nonbinary individuals as ‘proof’ transition must be curtailed:

“Secondly, medication is binary, but the fastest growing group identifying under the trans umbrella is non-binary, and we know even less about the outcomes for this group. Some of you will also become more fluid in your gender identity as you grow older. We do not know the ‘sweet spot’ when someone becomes settled in their sense of self, nor which people are most likely to benefit from medical transition. When making life-changing decisions, what is the correct balance between keeping options as flexible and open as possible as you move into adulthood, and responding to how you feel right now?”

Doubtless, the Gender Criticals wish the nonbinary non-transitioner to be as non-existent as their more deviant sibling. But while a greater deviant still exists, those that happen to be more acceptable, more assimilate-able, are called upon to do the one thing they’re good for:

Kick the weaker bitch out.

Such too is the final fate of detransitioners under the patriarchal regime. They are to be the knife in the back of their siblings, and when those are gone, they will find their own backs perforated.

So far I have provided eloquent arguments towards clear and singular conclusions—at least, I hope you’ve found me eloquent and clear. Today, on this matter, I offer no such thing. I have nothing to offer but this: so long as transition is reviled, so long as the transsexual are persecuted in any manner at all, there is no freedom of sex and there is no neutrality. Insofar as this pertains to detransition: so long as the transsexual are persecuted, hated, and forced into obscurity, we are likewise bound to their persecution, hatred, and abandonment. So long as that holds, voluntary detransition can never be free.

What Now?

I know. I’m a killjoy. It’s a fate all serious anarchists and college dropouts must contend with: if we’re really sincere about what we think, the mood will be thoroughly murdered.

The fight is clear. The fight is needed. And, the fight is hard. But there is life to be lived in the meanwhile, and it’s worth living even if we don’t see a victory during our time. Total certainty may be impossible and foolish to seek—but you have to make choices anyway. Doing nothing is merely choosing passivity and inertia; you face the consequences either way.

So I ask again: how do you know?

If you’re someone contemplating detransition, here’s the second best thing I can offer: have the courage, the self-insight, and the compassion to face yourself and be honest. Have the intelligence and the disobedience to measure what you’ve been told about transition and transsexuality against the things you have seen and experienced. Have the audacity to be wrong, to make mistakes as many times as you need. Have the pride to ask for better things than you are offered. Have the humility to not think yourself exceptional. Above all, never relinquish the responsibility over your life and your choices to anyone or anything else. No, no one else knows any better. No, there is no easier way.

The first best thing I can offer—to anyone, detrans or not—is to tell you how I knew. In the end I speak from my own experiences, and so it’s only fitting that the message I broadcast is incomplete without a degree of testimony.

Oh, it is to my chagrin, believe me—well, kind of. For all that I love attention and getting told I write oh so powerfully well, a part of me also detests personality pieces. I’m just one woman; I don’t mean much; I shouldn’t mean much. But you must’ve wondered, right? Especially if you don’t recognise yourself in me. I’ve spoken briefly about aspects of my de/transition, and let’s say you took all that for granted, but you must’ve wondered: how did I get here in the first place? How did it feel? How does it feel? Really, truly, how? And why?

I don’t like personality pieces because I think they mine for compassion. That can be a catalyst for a great many things, but just as often I’ve had people treat me with total nicety and then vote for a politician that would kill me, or exile a child that used to be me. Compassion is common, human, and incredibly cheap.

It is also required for kinship. For comparison, for legibility. And one of the issues that plagues detransitioners is illegibility. Silence. A lack of reference by which to see yourself. Community is best known by example.

So an example I shall provide. Next time.

Recommended Reading

On the freedom of sex: Andrea Long Chu, The Right To Change Sex.

On the nature of sex/gender hierarchy within the patriarchy: Talia Bhatt, Understanding Transmisogyny, Part 1.

On the mechanisms of gender-conservatism among women: Andrea Dworkin, Right-Wing Women.

[ultramaga]

a) There's no link to the original post, let alone some archive. We have no idea what he said, or even if he corrected himself later, or even if this is an outright lie. Leftists have a terrible relationship to honesty as the foundational statement is "Truth is a Social Construct". b) The ADL and Israel say it wasn't the Nazi salute, despite the ADL being incredible sensitive to anything vaguely right wing - It's ok to be right, the ok symbol, etc. c) linking to a frame rather than the full unedited video is a Coolsville tactic that makes me inclined to assume the author is a Leftist who outright knows they are lying - I could link to countless other left wing figures in the same position. "jews have been sounding the alarm about the rise of antisemitism" Yes, there certainly are a lot of people killing jews lately - and they are supported by Leftists. And opposed by conservatives. Huh.

Guess we're just skipping over the entire movement that is dedicated to exterminating jews now.

"antisemitism is a canary in the coal mine for fascism" It's unconnected. Japanese fascists did not give a fuck, and if anything helped protect jews. Mussolini said that the Nazi obsession with race as a distraction, but later tried to suck up to the Nazis when they turned out to be more successful. And the communist persecution of jews was notorious.

Plus, you seem to be skipping over two thousand years of antisemitism that occurred before fascism had existed.

A fascist jewish state would not be a contradiction in terms - and many Leftists already claim Israel is fascist. Being jewish doesn't make you an expert, it makes you jewish. As many historians pointed out, there were many members of the Nazi Party who were ethnically jewish.

The tests were argued about endlessly because separating jews and germans was a nightmare - the two groups had mingled and merged*.

The Leftist claim that there is a racial hierarchy, and certain people are intrinsically superior on topics simply by birth sounds very familiar. Race. Ism. Race. Ism. Gee, I wonder if that could be shortened? It sounds like a bad idea in any case. *

Addendum: So I had a look at the source - and he's a Leftist. As such, he doesn't believe in Truth to begin with. If your starting point is that there is no objective reality, then there is no chance of honesty. The dude constantly proclaims he is THE holocaust historian, and denies any opposing views exist.

So classical education is "alt-right" - which is an undefined buzzword term used by Leftists to shutdown thought. Nah, bitch, classical education was around for the last two thousand years. To decide that only a Nazi would want to read about Roman history is a typical Leftist tactic, because they hate historicallyeducated people, such folk know that they are wrong, they want INNDOCTRINATED people, which is why he obsesses endlessly about the need to purge home schooling. So what other dirty tricks does he use?

"trad christian"??? Sorry, but almost all christians are trad christians. The few american christians calling for the transing of kids are a tiny minority.

Catholics and Orthodox are the vast majority. His contempt for "trad christians" is typical for a Leftist, sure, but to use the term whilst claiming academic prowess as historian just means that you despise history, and love propaganda and historical revisionism instead.

I could go on, but pronouns in the bio is a bit of a give-away, and I noticed posts on "whiteness" and how architecture is "white-coded" and ... this man is clearly just another fascist, they just have their racism directed at different targets.

jews have been sounding the alarm about the rise of antisemitism and neo-nazi rhetoric around the world for years now, and have been largely dismissed by all sides of the political spectrum. they’re playing the victim, they’re exaggerating, they’re lying, they’re a distraction from other more important issues, etc etc.

i hope this can be a wakeup call for many. if this is shocking to you, i urge you to find jewish voices and creators to follow. antisemitism is a canary in the coal mine for fascism and jewish people are the ones most equipped to recognize it and oppose it.

we will all need each other more than ever for what’s to come. make sure the coalitions and networks you build include jewish people too.

[mydeicakie]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🩰. ݁ᛪ༙ 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 ?!!!!!

༉‧₊˚. 𝒫𝒜ℛℐ𝒩𝒢 ： boxer bf!Mydei x gf fem!reader

༉‧₊˚. 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ： It's Valentine's Day, and Mydei's just lost his match- but you're not about to let him stay down. Instead of the usual sympathy, you've got something much hotter in mind. You strip away the disappointment and replace it with something far more irresistible-your body. As his frustration melts away, you take control, giving him a night full of pleasure that's better than any victory. Your pussy's all his, and tonight, he'll know it's the best win he could've ever had. (Modern au)

༉‧₊˚. 𝒲𝒜ℛ𝒩ℐ𝒩𝒢𝒮 ：smut, vaginal, daddy kink, doggy style, body worship?, ass/pussy eating, mydei is kinda needy, as-well as reader is needy too, fluff, size kink? (he’s big asf), big dick mydei, kissing, hickeys, nipple play, breast play, soft & gentle sex.

༉‧₊˚. ℰ𝒳𝒯ℛ𝒜 ： I know I might’ve made some auto corrects. Forgive me 🤕. Also this is a collab with @blueberrisdove-sideblog & she’s the person who got the original idea of boxer Mydei.

Mydei was pissed after losing his match. You could see the frustration in his eyes, but you weren't about to let it ruin the night. Without saying a word, you undressed, your movements slow and deliberate. As you stood in front of him, the tension shifted. You didn't need to speak-your actions were enough. Tonight wasn't about words or comfort. It was about giving him something he really wanted, something no match could ever compare to you.

A scowl still pinched between his eyebrows, but there was a flicker of interest as he watched you undress with deliberate slowness. The room was charged with a different kind of tension now, no longer just frustration lingering in the shadows.His own movements turned fluid as he rose from the mat, approaching you with a predator's grace. The air grew thick with the anticipation building in both of you, your naked forms nearly touching as his breath ghosted over your skin.Without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist, strong hands dipping into the slight curves of your hips.

His forehead came to rest against your shoulder, his muscular body pressed intimately against yours.In this moment, the night's plans were rewritten. Winning the match took second place to simply having you like this – with him, beneath his touch. Mydei leaned back, piercing his intense gaze into yours. "Just want you," he murmured, his low voice roughed by the desire thrumming between you. Then, he captured your lips in a kiss that left no room for words.

The kiss deepened, swallowing your sigh and the quiet laughter underlying it. Mydei's fingers tangled in your hair as he leaned into the sensual tease, his broad chest rubbing deliciously against yours. His tongue traced the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance to the honeyed warmth within.As if on instinct, he lifted you, bending your torso back slightly in his strong arms as he kissed down your jaw to the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

His hot breath fanned across your tender pulse even as he spoke softly against your flesh, "Think I still have some moves to share tonight, baby." His words sent a shiver racing down your spine, already primed and yearning for him. Mydei seemed to sense this, a wicked smile teasing at the corners of his lips before he straightened, sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you to the bed.A new game of conquest was underway in those warm, inviting sheets—and Mydei was determined to claim victory again tonight.

After laying you down on the plush mattress, his eyes roamed hungrily over your body, taking in the slender lines and lush curves. His hands skimmed down your sides before settling cupping your breasts, thumbs playing over the pebbled nipples. "Still have much to learn here too," he murmured with a smirk, his fingers twisting the sensitive buds, making you gasp.

His other hand slid further, teasing the tender skin beneath your navel before dipping lower to stroke the sensitive folds between your thighs. Moans spilled from your lips as he explored the sweetness there, his knowledge and patience an irresistible combination. Mydei kissed a trail down your body, pausing to lavish attention on your aching skin along the way.

When he reached between your legs again, his fingers delved deeper, stroking the most intimate pulse points with confident skill. Your head thrashed against the mattress, panting cries for more escaping you as he pushed you higher. He lavished sensual torture on your core, keeping your pleasure building to a fever pitch before allowing you a brief respite. During this lull, his lips found your own again in a searing kiss.

“Aughhh Mydei…” You moaned out loud and softly, his fingers curling. Making you cry out loud from pleasure. “D-Daddy…” you moaned softly and bit down your bottom lip.

The needy word slipped from your lips, a primal plea that sparked a thrill through him in spite of his tough exterior. "Daddy...?" Mydei echoed, a husky chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Seems my lil' girl needs something special tonight."He dipped his fingers even deeper, curling them to rub the exact spot that made you see stars. Electric jolts of pleasure radiated from where he touched, heightening the tension coiling low in your belly. "That's it, just let go for me," he encouraged, his hot breath seeping through your skin as he licked and nipped at your neck. "Mydei..." Your voice trembled, barely audible over the deafening symphony of sensations he was creating.

He sensed your nearing peak, his fingers picking up their intense pace."Get there for me, baby. Cum all over my hand like a good girl." With those words, he brought you hurtling into ecstasy, your inner walls clenching wildly around his fingers as euphoria overwhelmed you. Mydei groaned, relishing the sight of your release, before gently sliding free and bringing his glistening fingers to his lips. "Delicious," the boxer murmured, eyes locking onto yours with a smoldering intensity as he licked your essence clean.

The visual act only stoked the embers of his own desire, a familiar ache growing south. With deliberate movements, he lay down beside you, his larger frame encasing yours like a protective shroud. "Now, about that instruction I was overdue..." His voice was a low, tantalizing growl in your ear as he traced the curve of your hips, teasing, before continuing lower, exploring every dip and plane of your vulnerable body.

Each touch was deliberate, a sensual exploration intended to rekindle the inferno within him. "Tell me where you want to feel me first, love," he urged, nuzzling the tender nape of your neck before gently grazing his teeth across the sensitive skin. "I want to make this about you." His words were a promise, a vow to lavish attention and pleasure on you, to indulge in mutual enjoyment until you both succumbed to the insistent calls of your bodies.

“N-No need to do that daddy…” you mumbled softly. He paused his playful exploration, tilting your chin up with a finger to meet your hesitant gaze. Mydei's golden eyes held a depth of adoration and devotion, a quiet intensity that melted the reservations from your expression. "Always need," he corrected softly, brushing his lips across your forehead in a gentle kiss. "I'm here for you, completely.

Your pleasure, your satisfaction, that's all that matters." The tender reassurance spoke volumes of the unwavering dedication he held for you, a steadfast commitment that extended far beyond the act they were engaged in now. It was a profound reminder of the unwavering bond you shared, a love that balanced the harsh realities of his boxing life with its simplest joys - giving and receiving affection uncompromised.With that reassurance, Mydei's attentions turned back to your body, his hands continuing their leisurely path.

He teased the undersides of your breasts, marveling at the weight of them in his palms, before trailing lower to explore the tender expanse of your abdomen. His thumbs found your hipbones, gently rubbing the juncture where soft gave way to hard, urging your hips to press closer, a subtle reminder of the desire burning between you. "I'll be gentle."

“Promise?” You looked at him with hopeful eyes.

"Promise," he confirmed solemnly, his intense stare unwavering. He leaned in, sealing his vow with a tender kiss. "You're safe with me. I'll take care of you." After establishing that unwavering commitment, Mydei's movements turned deliberate once more, a warrior's focus honed on seduction.

His larger frame enfolded yours as he guided you into a prone position, the plush mattress cushioning your descent. On his knees beside you, he took a moment to admire the beauty of your submission before him.Reaching across your body, his hands roamed up your arms, the soft hair there catching his attention.

He trailed two fingertips slowly along the inside of your upper arm until they reached your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then, he proceeded to retrace his path along your tricep, down to flex and twitch with each movement under his touch. "Like steel in velvet," Mydei whispered, impressed by the resilient, lithe strength underlying your slender form. His other hand echoed the tender caresses, only now venturing along your inner thighs to tease the soft skin there with languid brushes of his fingers.

“W-Why can’t you put it in already?” you asked him, as you wiggled your butt impatiently.

His low chuckle reverberated through the air, a rich, warm sound that made your skin prickle with anticipation. "So eager," he murmured, shaking his head in wry amusement. "Patience, my love. We have all night." A teasing finger trailed up your inner thigh, circling the junction of your thighs before disappearing from view once more. "Besides, I told you, I want to make it special. Take my time to drive you wild, to have you screaming my name when I finally make you mine." His heated words were punctuated by the press of his lips against your earlobe, a fleeting caress that sent a shivering thrill down your spine.

Mydei's other hand still roamed skillfully over your skin, gradually turning his attention to your buttocks. His touch gentled, though no less sensual, as he explored the curves and contours just before he had you presented him."So perfect," he breathed, voice laden with an unmistakable hint of lust. Then, without further delay, he took you, burying himself to the hilt within your heat with a guttural groan of pure bliss."Fuck, you feel amazing," With that, he pulled out nearly to the tip before sliding back in, establishing a relentless rhythm designed to drive you wild.

Each powerful thrust claimed a piece of you, the sensual onslaught building with unyielding intent. The sound of his groans and your own wanton cries filled the room, punctuated by the slapping of skin against skin as he relentlessly pounded into your sweet, welcoming warmth.

Mydei angled his hips to stroke deeper, grinding against that one perfect spot within you that made stars burst behind your eyelids."Come on," he growled against your shoulder, "let it wash over you, give yourself to me completely."He nipped at your earlobe, the rough hairs of his jaw scraping delicately against your skin as he punctuated his words with deep, probing thrusts. "Remember, I'm all for you here."Mydei wrapped his arms around you snugly, pulling your back flush against his chest as he continued his sensual assault. His free hand snaked around to palm your breasts, his thumbs rubbing the distended nipples in sync with his relentless thrusts.

You cried out loud and moaned, your eyes rolling back to your head as you bit down your bottom lip. He felt every shudder, every muffled cry against your bitten lip, and it only fueled his unrelenting drive. Powerful, measured strokes plunged him deep into you, stroking along the tight, gripping walls of your heat with unyielding intent. The room echoed with your mingled moans and the rhythmic slap of skin, a primal symphony that painted the air with your combined passion. "That's it, take it all," Mydei groaned, his low voice vibrating against your ear as he angled his hips to reach the deepest, most sensitive spot within you."So fucking tight, so perfect," he grunted, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples in time ith his plunging thrusts. "Give in to me, completely. Let me feel you come apart on my dick." His demand was voiced with a raw, primal urgency that resonated deep within your core, sparking an almost frenzied response within you.

Mydei cupped your breasts more firmly now, kneading the pliant flesh as he rode you harder, driven by the need to claim this shared bliss, to merge your bodies and souls in a frenzy of pleasure and completion.

Your tongue rolled out of your mouth, forming a lewd expression all over your face.

The wanton display of your expression – open-mouthed, wide-eyed, utterly lost in the throes of passion – sent a surge of primal desire through Mydei. He could hardly tear his gaze from the mesmerizing sight, your face a testament to the all-consuming pleasure he was instigating within you. Leaning closer, he claimed your mouth in a hungry, dominating kiss, his tongue delving deep to stake his claim even as his hips continued their relentless pounding. He was determined to coax every last shred of ecstacy from you, to drink in the depths of your surrender, your release at his hand. "That's it, I want to see you unravel," he growled against your lips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your breasts, twisting and tugging at your hardened nipples.

"Come for me, baby, fill me up with your sweet, slick heat." With that fervent command, he dipped his chin to suckle at the sensitive bud of your other breast, swirling his tongue around it as he pounded into you, expertly targeting lip that elusive sweet spot within.

Feeling your walls clench tighter around him, sensing the tsunami of release cresting inside you, Mydei intensified his assault. His hands roamed your body, kneading and teasing every sensitive patch of skin until you were writhing beneath him, mindless with need. He alternated between long, deep strokes and quick, sharp thrusts, each designed to push you closer to that precipice of pure, uninhibited bliss.

The room was filled with the cacophony of your joined moans and the carnal slap of flesh against flesh, an almost tribal chant of primal satisfaction. Mydei's breathing became labored, his eyes burning with a fierce, possessive light as he watched you teeter on the edge."Give it to me, now," he commanded, his thrusts becoming choppy and urgent as he pursued his own crescendo. "Fill me, baby, drown me in your heat, your ecstasy. Let me feel you shatter for me." His fingers sank to the roots of your hair, tugging firmly as he plunged into your depths with renewed vigor, his cock throbbing and twitching with impending release.

You hit your climax, As you surrendered to the all-consuming release, your inner walls spasming wildly around him, Mydei felt the world narrow into a singular focus—your exquisite pleasure. He thrust into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as your heat threatened to suck him in. Your cry, a sweet, high-pitched gasp, became the catalyst for his own explosion.A low, primal growl rumbled through his chest as the first pulses of his climax crashed over him, his essence flooding your welcoming depths. Mydei's eyes rolled shut, a bead of sweat trickling from his temple as he rode out the intense waves of ecstasy.

His hands, still tangled in your hair, fisted, releasing their grip. The sensation of his pulsing heat filling you, the sheer, primal essence of being fully claimed, overwhelmed you both. For a moment, there was only the breathless, sated stillness of the aftermath. Then, Mydei's lips brushed your ear, his hot, raspy voice whispering his approval. "Perfection," he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as he slowly withdrew, his softened length glistening with your combined essence.

Mydei couldn't help but chuckle, the low rumble vibrating through his chest as he rolled onto his back beside you, pulling you into the crook of his arm. He lazily trails his fingers up and down your spine, the gentle caress lulling you further into relaxation."So responsive," he notes, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You'll have me addicted to this sight in no time, love."

As your breathing evens out and your eyelids grow heavy, Mydei tenderly brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb absently stroking your cheek. He studies your peaceful, contented features, a softness in his eyes that belies the fierce warrior he is when battle calls. "Rest now, my sweet," he whispers, his voice a soothing murmur in the warm, intimate aftermath of their encounter."I'll be right here when you wake, ready for round two, if you are." With that promise, Mydei closes his own eyes, the sound of your gentle snores a comforting accompaniment to his own slowly deepening slumber.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How do I write a scene where a previously “dead” character comes back and faces their friends who mourned for them, looking physically different than before? It’s been a few years since their death, but I don’t how to write the scene.

Writing Ideas: Back from the Dead

a list of resurrection tropes

Accidental Resurrection: A deceased character/s is brought back to life without having been intended to.

Attending Your Own Funeral: A resurrection happens when people are gathered together to mourn for a character's death.

Came Back Strong: A resurrected person is more powerful than they were before they died.

Damaged Soul: A resurrected person comes back in a worse mental state than before.

Death Amnesia: A resurrected character remembers nothing about the afterlife.

Escaped from Hell: Someone refuses to stay dead even though they're already in the afterlife, so they break out and head back to the land of the living.

Inhuman Human: A character is resurrected with their mind/soul intact but their body in bad condition.

Refusing Paradise: A dead character chooses resurrection over entering the peaceful afterlife.

Resurrection Revenge: A character comes back from the dead to avenge their own death.

Resurrection Sickness: Someone suffers physical weakness as a result of resurrection.

Resurrective Immortality: A form of immortality where it is possible to kill the individual, but they keep coming back to life afterwards.

Rotten Reincarnation: The cycle of death and rebirth is seen as heinous.

Unwanted Revival: A resurrected person isn't happy about being brought back to life.

Waking Up at the Morgue: When a resurrectee comes back to life, they're likely to find themselves wherever their dead body was stored.

We Can Rebuild Him: Saving a person's life by converting them into a cyborg.

Examples

In Classical Mythology, before Sisyphus 'died', he told his wife not to do any burial rites. When in the Underworld, he appealed to the queen of the underworld, Persephone, if he could go back up to earth to haunt his wife for not giving him the proper rites. She agreed and he came back from the dead.

Flynn Rider/Eugene Fitzherbert from Tangled. From the time that he says in the opening, "This is the story of how I died," it only leaves the viewer guessing until the climatic part, when he is fatally stabbed In the Back by Mother Gothel's dagger and, rather than let Rapunzel risk her freedom for his life, cuts off her hair with a broken mirror shard in a Heroic Sacrifice before breathing his last in her arms. Thankfully, Rapunzel's magic tear brings him back to life. This is justified, since in the original tale, Rapunzel healed her beloved prince's eyesight with her tear.

In The Brothers Grimm's "The Three Snake Leaves" the hero uses the titular leaves to bring his wife back from the dead. At first it seems fine, but after being resurrected her love for him has turned into hate and she tries to murder him on a sea voyage. He is rescued by a faithful servant and she is executed.

The basic premise of Pet Sematary is that what you bring back is not what first died. To disastrous degrees. Specifically, while they stop decaying and can pass for alive if cleaned up, what comes back is a moving corpse that cannot heal, saddled with whatever injuries may have killed it. To further worsen the deal, while the corpse has all the memories and echoes of their personality, what "comes back" is not the soul of the deceased but some form of Demon or Monster from Beyond the Veil bent on making the one who resurrected it suffer through killing those they hold dear, and then them.

Game of Throne's Jon Snow. Seemingly averted, for the most part. Despite his resurrection coming from circumstances similar to Beric Dondarrion's, the only marked change in him is a (more) melancholic demeanor and a new hairdo. His willingness to interpret the preceding events as an out from the Night's Watch may also count.

Inuit Mythology: Sedna is just an ordinary woman until her father chops off her fingers and throws her into the ocean. She becomes the goddess of the ocean, the most important goddess of the Inuit cosmology because it's only with her on their side that the people can avoid starvation. Her fingers turn into seals. Another version has her being thrown in the ocean first, followed by the chopping off of her fingers (which turn into seals), hands (which turn into walruses), and finally her arms (which turn into whales) to get her to stop clinging on to the boat.

Merlin (2008) has had a few resurrections, all of which went wrong. Tristan du Bois: undead wraith, Lancelot: Soulless Shell, Uther: Took a Level in Jerkass, which is quite impressive considering he was a genocidal tyrant in the first place.

The Twilight Zone (1959): In the episode "The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank", a man comes back from the dead, but the townsfolk notice some things are off about him and decide that he's possessed by a demon. He manages to shame them away… and then lights his pipe without a match or lighter.

Osiris from the Ancient Egyptian pantheon died repeatedly only to return a short while later, suffering several indignities such as being resurrected without a penis, which was eaten by fish before it could be found and reattached. He averts the Trope in that he never came back in some monstrously horrific form, but true to it in that afterwards he was usually worse off than he was previously. And green.

The Lord of the Ring's Gandalf the Grey dies and comes back as Gandalf the White with augmented powers and authority. He is a lesser-angel figure on a mission from greater-angels and hasn't completed his quest so he is sent back and the restrictions previously placed on his power (to prevent overreliance or corruption) are relaxed.

Writing Template: Resurrection Scene

PART ONE

What is the purpose of this resurrection?

Is it based on the prophecy or is this resurrection random?

In prophecy usually a group of people, a village or more patiently waits for the prophecy to happen. Whether the person being resurrected will save the world, save their country or is a symbol. The prophecy can either be welcomed or feared. How has the people prepared for this resurrection? What is promised in the prophecy?

For a random resurrection, who decides to bring back the person or the deity. Do they have their own power or easy given to them? Why did they decide to wake up from their…. rest?

Describe the signs of the prophecy happening. What takes place right before the resurrection or during the resurrection that shows the reader something important is about to happen or is currently happening?

The skies can part, crows can gather, a national disaster such as an earthquake can occur. Maybe the prophet who spoke of the prophecy is dying or says it’s happening within three days. Depending on the sign it allow your reader to know whether the person who is being resurrected will be good or bad.

During the resurrection things may or may not go as planned. But that does not mean the person being resurrected is a bad person. There could be an evil force preventing the person from being resurrected. What are the witnesses doing in order to make sure the resurrection is going well? Do they close their borders or their gates to prevent outside from entering?

Who notices these signs and who prepares after noticing the signs. Is there a way for these people to rush the signs? Do they create their own signs as well such as using fireworks for celebration, going to a church to pray, dancing in the rain,etc?

PART TWO

Who witnesses this resurrection and what does it inspire them to do?

Who are the chosen people to witness and do they already have an idea this was going to happen? It doesn’t even have to be human.

Could only be family or friends, or random people, no one at all is worthy, or perhaps someone who is dreaming. Do they want to be better people after seeing this? Do they want to tell everyone they know after seeing this? Do they question the world around them and their existence? Or do they wish they never saw it?

For a random resurrection there must be a random people to view it. Because no one knows that it was going to happen. How are these random people taking it in? Do they run and hide. Rejoice? Scream and shout? And maybe they heard something about this but they didn’t know it was true. Now that they see it before their very eyes are they are shocked, and standing still like stone.

If the witnesses aren’t human but animals or creatures that you created, what do they do after and during the resurrection? Assuming that the person being resurrected is the main character, how do they feel about no one being meant to see this?

What are they inspired to do now? Do they wait until the resurrection is completed or do they start right away? What device,if any, do they have available?

They can be inspired to spread the word about the resurrection. Maybe do what ever the character being resurrected did so that they can resurrect too. Whether it’s sacrificing themselves or changing themselves for the better. Do they want to worship the resurrected person?

Some people may not even be able to finish the resurrection for whatever reason. Whether it is because they are fainting or they’re afraid or because they can’t wait to do with what they are inspired to do. Maybe their in a trance or were told specifically by the resurrector to go forth and do something. Also, if they have electronic devices they can use that to their benefit.

PART THREE

What does the person who is being resurrected look like? What are they doing?

Note their clothing, and their hair, and how their skin looks. Use some adjectives to describe them. What point of view is it? The witness’s point of view, the resurrector? Each person will have a opinion of what the resurrection looks like.

Their appearance:

Clothing: None, Robe, Torn clothes from when they died, Clothing restored from when they died, Wings

Hair: White or silver; Natural color; A bright color such as yellow or orange; Styled very long; Styled messy or clean; Like it was before; Flowing in the wind; Silky, thick, smooth

Skin: Clear; Still dirty from when they died (if they were in battle); Younger; Older

Adjective to Use: Glorious; Radiant; Superb; Extraordinary; Amazing; Awesome; Unimaginable; Promising; Inspiring; Flawless; Peaceful; Perfect; Timeless; Awe-inspiring

Depending on whose point of view it is, how is the person being resurrected seen? Is there envy, remorse? Example: An enemy just finished off the main character but he is resurrected shortly after. Also, what does the facial expressions of everyone in this seen look like? Does it match the way they look? The person who has risen from their… slumber may look like an angel but has a nasty look on their face. Or vica versa.

Does the look change? The person being born again can go from happy to mad in an instant. So can whatever they are wearing or his/her hair. Example:

From clean white rob, bowl-cut hair, and brown eyes — Torn robe, spiked hair, red eyes.

From Torn clothing, messy and dirty hair, and red shot eyes — Clothing fixed, hair fixed and eyes back to normal

These changes can be temporary or permanent.

Are they already doing magical things? Are they doing things they wouldn’t have done in the previous life? Are they better or worse off? What interaction do they have with the witnesses?

Do they now have powers? How do they use of these powers? At first do they scare the witnesses because they don’t know how to use their power? The may accidentally hurt someone or burn a tree down. Are they floating while being resurrected? Do they disappear after being resurrected or even fly?

Do these powers change them to be better than before they were dead or worse? Can they control their powers? Do they even want the powers? What are the power intended for?

PART FOUR

What message is sent to the people who are witnessing the resurrection? What is the person being resurrected thinking?

Is the witnesses being ordered to do something? Are they able to have a conversation with the person being resurrected? Are there any warnings or other prophecies?

They are probably told to tell people what they have seen. Or may not. Maybe they need to keep quiet about it for a while in order for the resurrected to attack the enemy with surprise. May they have risen only to tell one last message to the people. If that’s the case it has to be something important. For example: How to win a battle, how to create something, take away something, restore something, or improve something.

There does not need to be a conversation, however, they can still communicate. Whether it’s with gestures, with a song, showing the future or another prophecy using powers…. If a conversation does take place, who is doing most of the talking and are questions being answered not only for the reader but for the witnesses?

What thoughts are in mind of the main character, whether they are the person being resurrected or a witness? What do they see that no one else sees?

Maybe they want to go back to…. sleep. Or ditch and figure out their new powers. How about if the resurrect isn’t the correct resurrected or a fake. Can a witness see that? Do they notice? What if the resurrected see a witness that is a trader. What do they do?

PART FIVE

What is the next step for the person being resurrected?

How does the future look; what changes forever

After all is said and done, where is the resurrected going? How do they plan on getting there and are they going alone?

What is promised, what is warned, what is happening as the resurrected says his/her goodbyes?

What is left behind, given as a gift, or what words are repeated? How has this moment changed the history of your story? And who would believe it besides the witnesses?

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Here are some tropes and examples you can use as inspiration. When facing their friends, what are their reactions? Is it positive/negative? Are they accepted or treated like a stranger in this new form? Similarly, when they look physically different than before, is it a positive/negative change? Are they decomposing? Do they look the same or are they "better" now? Do go through the links as well for more examples. Or you may use (and alter as needed) templates, like the one I found above to help guide your story. Hope this helps with your writing!

[kaija-rayne-author]

Do whatever you want, believe whatever you want. And using Veilguard as any sort of source for anything remotely related to canon Lore is just ridiculous. It's so... awful, IMHO, to use it to defend any sort of point.

I'm not certain if this would be considered critical, so I'll put it under a cut. Potentially critical of Veilguard.

Though I'm really just talking about the Lore.

I point out 4 massive retcons in Veilguard that blew my mind and that I see people commonly using as arguing points. And yes, if someone wants to pay me for the time, I can prove all of it with sources.

What little canon Lore they actually used in Veilguard? They twisted beyond recognition.

Just a few examples.

1. The blight is NOT, in fact, (or even in Veilguard) 'everywhere in the Fade'. It has always been contained to the Black City, that floats disconnected from everything else in the Fade. It's why the previously golden city is black ffs! Even in Veilguard, it's really damned obvious that the Fade isn't full of blight. We hop in and out of the Fade throughout the whole damned game like it's a shopping mall.

2. The Fade is not full of demons. Demons are spirits (people) of emotion. What usually twists them into demons is coming through the veil! The only reason there was the big demon in DAI is because it was attached to Coryphyfish. There's probably some, but it's an arguable point that an emotion spirit of, say, anger, or spite is actually a demon. Emotions aren't bad. They wouldn't automatically be demons simply because they reflect a negative emotion.

3. The veil has been canonically choking the life and magic out of Thedas for thousands of years. If the veil didn't come down, there would be no Thedas. This is clearly spelled out in canon. The veil was never meant to be part of the world. At the end of Trespasser, the veil is as holey as my grandmother's doilies. It's not as they tried to depict it in Veilguard, a firm, whole wall holding hordes of demons and the blight of blights back. That's such a bullshit retcon, and I make weird faces every time I try to figure out the mental gymnastics necessary for someone to come up with that idea.

4. It's also a massive retcon that Solas lies. (Sigh. Yes. It really is. No matter what you believe.) He canonically does not. They rewrote his character for DAI so that he doesn't lie because it weakened the character. He was originally written as much more similar to Blackwall. They decided it weakened Solas as a character and made sure he doesn't lie. He obfuscates, misleads, doesn't answer, and is really good at letting people make assumptions or even leading people to make assumptions. Because that is what a Trickster does! But in all of DAI and Trespasser, he does not lie except once. At the Winter Palace when you ask him where he got the experience of court. No. A 'lie of omission' is not a lie by the definition or philosophical understanding of what a lie is. You, as the player, not paying close attention to what he says doesn’t mean he lies either! He is not the 'god of lies'. That's Epler's hate shining through. Throughout 3 games, many dlcs, books, comics, short stories, the Dread Wolf is known as the Trickster. The god of rebellion and sometimes the god of betrayal. He is never once referred to as the god of lies in anything pre-veilguard. It's. Bullshit.

And Solas is an absolutely terrible liar. He stumbles all over himself trying to do it in the winter palace. It's hilarious tbh.

There were more retcons. But I need to go help with dinner.

Just, even if you liked Veilguard, don't use it as a defense in any sort of discussion of Lore. Perhaps listen to us Lore fiends, instead? Because they shat all over the Lore for Veilguard.

Real talk? It makes you look ignorant to anyone who actually has been paying attention to the Lore.

FWIW? I'm not in the best of moods right now. Please think twice, then a third time before responding/reblogging in disagreement. (Unless you're polite and actually have sources I haven't seen. I'm usually willing to have polite discussions or answer questions. I'm also willing to stand corrected if people actually can prove me wrong with sources attached. A 'nuhn unh, Solas lies cause I believe he does', won't get you far with me.) Nor will using anything from DAV to support an argument. I've relegated DAV to the graveyard of not-canon because of the complete disrespect of the Lore.

And I'll just laugh at you if you try to attack me. Internet randos filling my responses with shit doesn't phase me, bother me in the slightest, or make me upset. I find it incredibly, laugh out loud amusing because I've lived through so much more than that in my life.

[quixoticsweetheart]

Alright I got curious about other ways to make this make sense, and I wondered if there was a typo in the original problem - specifically, if it meant to say 15 instead of 5. That would get rid of the whole issue with complex exponentiation, so maybe it makes the problem solvable!

In this new case, taking burger to be x, fries to be y, and soda to be z, we have the following system of equations:

3x = 18

x + y^2 = 15 (here's the spot with the possible typo)

z^y - z = 3

We can deduce, as before, that x = 6, but with our adjusted equations we now have 6 + y^2 = 15. This tells us that y = 3 or -3. Taking each of those solutions in turn:

If y = 3, then z^3 - z = 3. This is a bit of an ugly polynomial, so here's what wolframalpha has to say:

... oh.

Okay but maybe it's better if y = -3? So let's try that!

If y = -3, then z^(-3) - z = 3, which is also pretty ugly. It does have four solutions, but who knows what those solutions look like. Wolframalpha time!

well.

In conclusion, it's not any better if we account for the possibility of a typo. This thing really isn't solvable (unless you allow for the idea of imaginary soda).

[animentality]

I know x reader fans have always existed, and I don't generally mind them.

however I feel like the way they've overtaken fandom analysis/ shipping culture is an indication of the general decline of fandom communities.

they are normies, guys. I'm sorry.

it's not a slur, it's just a fact.

normies infiltrated fandom spaces because of covid.

they come in and just want to thirst after a particular character... and that's like. fine. of course it's fine it's always happened.

but they don't seem to actually care about the character being in character. nor does it really require any analysis of that character's motivations or story, or their relationship with others.

I know not everything HAS to relate to canon. like duh, we are here to make our own canon.

but come the fuck on. I go into a tag and it has a character tagged being some dommy daddy when that character is nothing like that in canon... and there's this line between making a character act a certain way bc that's your fetish, and completely ignoring who that character is entirely to the point where you could just replace their name with anyone else in any other show, and it wouldn't make a difference?

like that's... normie shit. it's people who do not think deeply or passionately about that media, it's just them having this surface level grasp of the physical attractiveness of the character.

and again. I'm not saying these people are stupid or whatever, just that the overabundance of this watered down ass content is an indicator of how much fandom has changed.

fans are not the socially awkward introverted queer voyeurs anymore, who enjoy fantasies and daydreaming about being someone else because of this disconnect with the self, or this fear of others that leads you to seek human connection in fiction.

they're the people who do just fine with other people ... and I'm not gatekeeping fandom from people who aren't socially awkward or anything.

but they come here, and they do shit like say you can't like this ship bc it's morally wrong .. you're not allowed to thirst after an 18 year old that makes you a pedophile... I'm 15 and I'm allowed to lust for Gojo but you a 25 year old woman, aren't allowed to write itafushi fanfiction.

go back to taxes and your job!!!

like that drives me fucking insane. these people want to insist they're not normies but they then go around insisting that being over 20 means you need to Work and Be a Normal Adult... bitch.

adults make fandoms. not you fucking children. you don't know how to build communities, you barely know how to make friends.

attacking people who like the same thing you do? is that what you think community building is?

oh this poor generation. anyway.

they come here and are disgusted by weird fetishes and obsessions. and by people sharing sexual headcanons or ideas about sexuality that make them uncomfortable because they've never ever been counter culture, they've never felt the need to go against the status quo.

they're cis straight girls/women mostly, whose mothers basically fuel the ya spicy romance booktok industry.

they're just younger and think it's trendier to be "in a fandom" than a fucking book club.

they're modern day bodice ripper fans... which again

would be so fucking fine, if they weren't doing the youth version of karening the fuck out.

and flooding the fandom with both hyper criticism of how you conduct your business AND an aggressive market for just imagining yourself with a character.

like fandom was originally just hyper passionate freaks.

they discussed movies and TV shows like life and death. they were fucking nuts but in the way where they needed to seek one another out, to share in this joyous sensation of being a freak obsessed with something beyond the point of reason.

now?

now it's like ... oh.

Sally from Bio thinks your love of Gaara is super creepy when you're 19. like what, are you a pedophile? why are you imagining him getting married to Naruto? are you a fucking pedophile who gets off to teens making out? they need to check your hard drive!!

like ok Sally.

ok.

I just think x reader is such a strong indicator of what kind of fan you are.

and if a fandom is mostly x reader... then it can't be that popular. it can't be a proper community.

how can it be?

it's as watered down and generic and bland as a marvel movie. it's stripped down of anything unique. it is pruned of controversy and humanity.

you are literally stripping yourself down into a non character.

you're not truly projecting yourself into a character, because the you that you read about is nothing. a placeholder. you are a passive observing robot who exists only in the form of a faceless and personality less entity.

and I don't get it.

what's the point then?

isn't fiction about realizing something about yourself or others

if your only manner of engaging is stripping yourself of personality... is it engagement at all?

or is it just more mindless consumption?

just watch law and order, man.

watch the good doctor or some shit on lifetime.

there's shows with passionate fanbases who theory craft and endlessly obsess with relationships and world building, and then there's shows with x reader only content and you know exactly why now.

[doyoulikethis-videogame-song]

Ask Masterpost 2/1/2024

Fourth edition! I changed some formatting things for better readability.

Summary:

Permissibility of creator-leaked/teased soundtracks (Not allowed)

Proposal of demographics poll

Permissibility of Simlish covers (Allowed)

What franchise has the most polls?

Permissibility of remixes of licensed music (Allowed)

Inquiry about duplicate submissions

Permissibility of pinball soundtracks (Not Allowed) and Inquiry about ports of older games

Permissibility of unused tracks in the game files (Allowed)

Permissibility of roblox game tracks (Allowed)

Highest "I like & I know it" song?

Inquiry about revealing the composer before the reveal

Proposal of demographics poll

"Can we submit 'leaked' soundtracks from games if the creator leaked/teased them?"

I'm going to say no, because there's a broad spectrum of scenarios that could happen in between the 'leak' and the official launch of the song that would technically make the 'leak' not indicative of the final product and of course you don't know that until the final product is released :').

----------

@pomrania asked:

Is there any chance we could get a poll on what people mean when they vote for that they like a song, or that it sounds familiar? For me, "I like this song" means "I'd want to listen to it again once it's revealed", and "it sounds familiar" generally means "I'm not sure whether I've heard it before but I might have" also sometimes it's "I know I haven't heard this SPECIFIC song before, but I recognize the motifs in it".

Or if that's not something you'd want to make a poll for, then I'd still be interested in seeing what people say for how they vote on things, like in the comments.

I think this would be super interesting to do for a special event or something like that! I've been curious about demographics and other general statistics for a while now. I'm actually starting to have quite a good rhythm with managing the blog now so I may begin implementing the fun side ideas I've had sometime soon (or at least, I hope so, this semester is looking rough LOL)

----------

Can we submit simlish versions of popular songs, like simlish Katy Perry?

They're remixes for a game so absolutely! I think we already have some in the submissions queue.

----------

Which franchise/game has the most polls?

It's probably destiny (forlorn, distant stare).

----------

@haellen-o asked:

Is licensed music created/remixed for video games allowed?

(examples being the version of rob zombies dragula in the original jet set radio. And ludens by bring my the horizon)

It's an official remix for the game's soundtrack, so absolutely :).

----------

Out of curiosity, how often do you get duplicate requests from different people (or maybe the same person, worried you never got their first response, lol)? I think you've said you have around 7,000 requests, is that after removing duplicates or before?

We honestly have a lot of duplicate requests for popular games, and we've been shaving down the duplicates as we go along and queue new submissions. I think we've cut down AROUND ~1000 duplicates so far (we're not done!) and these are mostly very popular (at least on tumblr) games such as disco elysium, sonic series games, in stars and time, final fantasy, pokemon, tf2, mass effect, hollow knight, legend of zelda, just off the top of my head. The 7000 number was from before removing duplicates.

----------

for older games where the music is ported to different consoles, would the soundtracks be considered separate if the soundfonts impact them enough, or do they have to be very, VERY different? Like if a game was released on pc vs a 32x port.

Also, if a pinball cabinet includes a soundtrack, is that considered a video game soundtrack?

I would honestly just submit your PREFERRED version (if the soundfonts did differ), and I would put BOTH versions into the reveal, since I don't think this is a common enough occurrence to be significantly obnoxious/unfair for whatever reason. As for the pinball question, last masterpost answered overwhelmingly 'no', so I'm going to say no as well :').

----------

Are unused vgms allowed for submission? So in the files but never added to the game itself.

If you can credit the creator of the tracks then yes! (provided they're in the files in the final publicly released version and not from a demo/waiting for a future update to be implemented in a live service game/etc)

----------

are roblox games allowed?

Yes, if you can credit the creator of the tracks and they were made for that roblox game :).

----------

what song had the highest "I like it and I've definitely heard it before" percent?

I think it is still #100, which was Megalovania from Undertale (85.20%) Correction: It's Death By Glamour, #460, at 87% :)

----------

@enderlordisadumbusername asked:

are we allowed to mention song composers before the song has been revealed?

Absolutely!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And please do!!!!!! (This will literally only give away the game if you were already familiar enough to know the composer, so it's actually very perfect)

----------

Would you or have you ever run a poll to gauge how much of a song your followers listen to before voting?

Definitely considering it after learning a lot of people don't listen to the full song or even at least the first minute...

[hayesflint]

For the WIP tag: motorbike shibari :D Additional question, feel free to ignore: do you have any ideas about what colour palette you're going to use? And how do you decide on the colours, anyway? /not an artist, therefore very curious

hehehe based on this photoshoot, which i adorreee

hmm i havent thought about colour for this specific piece, but i do have some sort of method ive developed for paintings

i usually pick a primary colour first, and this is based off emotion, what i want the piece to say. you know, colour psychology. red invokes lust, passion, high energy, which is why i use red primarily in my inktober stuff. pale purples and pinks, on the other hand, are soft, romantic, safe, attraction, sweetness, so i used this as a base for alot of my warrior ch3 paintings.

i paint my local colours, usually on a multiply layer, over this base so that all my colours include some of my primary colour.

local colours are the base colour of everything with no light effects or anything. alot of my work is fanwork, so this is generally already decided for me. when it comes to my more 'original' work (lets use kals design from warrior) i still like choosing a main and basing everything around that. so here, everything is a shade of orange, just slightly warmer, brighter, darker etc

but also i think a big part of colours is lighting. all the colours get adjusted. i make the shadows colder and the light warmer, which creates a contrast in the painting. a visual example, if youll allow me

now each colour has a warm section and a cold section in the lit image here, and it makes all the colours marry together a bit more, and look more cohesive, like they actually exist together, which helps tie the colour palette together.

i hope this was interesting. i feel like im still winging my colours in most paintings, especially skin, but its fun to explore.

thanks for the ask!!

[isa-ghost]

✨️ The Philverse Lore Masterpost ✨️

So I planned on making this a while ago and forgot but now I'm doing it.

And the formatting of this post MAY change in the future (like me providing other reference links and such for each Phil), but for now I'm gonna keep it simple.

This post is an explanation of how the Philza Cinematic Universe(tm) works, along with some widely accepted fanon things. It will update as cc!Phil changes things or canonizes new ones.

"Main" rp!Phil

"Main" Phil is Hardcore (hc) Phil, SMP Earth (smpe) Phil, DSMP (c) Phil, and QSMP (q) Phil. This is also the Phil that The Beginning by MaepleTea features.

It's important to note here that rp!Phil is canonically immortal (this is probably true for ALL rp!Phils, not just "main" Phil, cc!Phil has said things along these lines on multiple occasions in the past).

cc!Phil has described rp!Phil has hundreds of years old, though we have no idea how many centuries he's been alive. What we've seen is more or less just the last decade of his life, unless cc!Phil chooses to construct a timeline that says otherwise.

The timeline goes something like this:

HCS2 -> SMPE -> HCS4 -> DSMP -> QSMP -> ???

Obviously it's not linear like that, HCS4 is simultaneously going on during SMPE, DSMP & QSMP. In roleplay, the canon explanation is that hc!Phil can travel to other universes through what is basically dreamwalking. This gets explicitly confirmed in QSMP lore.

In other words, the Hardcore World is rp!Phil's universe of origin. A common headcanon related to this is that all seasons of Hardcore are one universe, which resets itself each time rp!Phil dies. After each reset, rp!Phil retains his memories of the previous iteration and starts over again, but with new knowledge to avoid dying again.

A better way to visualize this timeline would be to refer to IRL dates, like this (click for better quality):

Note: I didn't include HCS3 because it lasted like two weeks. Consider it a blip in rp!Phil's long immortal lifespan, if anything. I also didn't include HCS1 because Phil basically never refers to it other than the way that it ended. Considering there wasn't really any lore about hc!Phil being a historian/explorer prior to HCS4 anyway, this is basically fine to assume.

All of the above being the same guy is canonically confirmed, either explicitly stated BY cc!Phil himself, or with undeniable implications within roleplay.

SMP Earth is the only one of these that gets a little iffy to call confirmed because it's never been explicitly stated and technically SMPE wasn't a roleplay server, BUT: Considering the references and parallels c!Emduo make when they move to the tundra to get away from the rest of the DSMP, it becomes pretty obvious it can be considered canon. There are also multiple occasions where c!Emduo refer to what they did during the Antarctic Empire times. Furthermore, and I'll reiterate this in a moment: q!Phil tells stories to Chayanne & Lullah of things he and rp!Techno did during SMPE.

HCS2 (more specifically Phil's death) obviously gets referred to constantly in and out of roleplay, making it canon whether cc!Phil wants/considers it to be or not. This is one of few deaths we know rp!Phil has experienced, if not the only one. I imply there may be multiple deaths here because I don't remember if cc!Phil confirmed that rp!Phil died at the end of The Beginning before being saved by Goddess of Death or not. If so, that means rp!Phil has died at least twice: then, and in HCS2.

QSMP is actually the key universe to all of these other Phils being connected, since that is where cc!Phil chose to do lore to confirm all of these are the same guy. Prior to QSMP, we only knew SMPE and DSMP were connected thanks to c!Emduo.

QSMP confirmed that q!Phil is hc!Phil formally via the dreamwalking lore. Additionally, prior to this lore being dropped, again: there were multiple instances in which q!Phil told Chayanne & Lullah stories from his time on SMPE. Obviously, if SMPE is canon to both DSMP and QSMP, then those two are also connected by default. These stories were not the only reference to DSMP made during QSMP either. Multiple previous DSMP members also canonized DSMP and QSMP being connected.

And during all of this, rp!Phil is dreamwalking from the Hardcore World to these other worlds.

Origins SMP Phil (o!Phil)

This version of Phil is his own separate guy with a fully unique story from "main" Phil.

While "main" Phil is an immortal historian and explorer from Hardcore that can travel to other worlds via his dreams, o!Phil is an even more avian-coded guy trying his hardest to be a villain but failing at it miserably /aff.

As confirmed by cc!Phil: o!Phil comes from a dirt poor family who didn't want him to suffer the horrific reality of living in poverty, so his parents spoiled him rotten to the point of making themselves suffer. They later mysteriously disappeared (and are likely now dead). o!Phil's story in-rp (eventually) begins with him searching for them.

o!Phil has no idea he's not actually the entitled royalty he thinks he is. He eventually bonds with o!Sneeg, who chooses to be a "villain" with him, and they have a whole riveting, silly, weird ass codependent besties thing going on for the rest of Origin's multiple reboots. Their friendship in OSMP is what inspired 1/3 of the current theories for tr!Phil, who I'll get to momentarily.

o!Phil also canonically appeared in Rats SMP as a guest, as did o!Sneeg. They were searching for each other in the wake of OSMP "ending" (read: dying, again), and this intensified the fandom's interpretation that they're inseparable/codependent. This cameo also confirmed that both o!Phil and o!Sneeg can travel universes like "main" Phil.

Another important note: Some Crows consider cc!Phil's cameo in Aimsey SMP (ASMP) to be o!Phil because they share very similar attitudes and penchants for material goods, especially "shiny things."

Squidcraft Phil (sc!Phil)

The easiest rp!Phil to explain. cc!Phil himself said that sc!Phil is an alternate timeline version of "main" Phil, specifically q!Phil.

This is probably only due to the fact that Missa and several other QSMP members were in 2023's Squidcraft event, and cc!Phil couldn't resist being an angsty little shit with Missa throughout the event until his elimination.

The Realm SMP Phil (tr!Phil)

As of early 2025 when I'm making this post, we have no idea how tr!Phil fits into the Philverse. cc!Phil explicitly states he has no plans or intentions whatsoever to do lore on TRSMP, even if he does roleplay with other players like Sneeg or Fit. Assuming he doesn't change his mind on that, the following is ENTIRELY what the fandom headcanons/theorizes is true.

There are 3 main interpretations for tr!Phil's origin and I explain those in depth in this post here!

If or when we get more to go off of, I will update this section of the post. :)

Bonus Note(s)

MCC

The MCYT fandom widely headcanons MCC as a weird multiverse Hunger Games type thing where Noxcrew and Scott Smajor, whatever kind of higher power they may be, drag MCYTs across several universes into their little liminal space/pocket universe type place and have them to compete in the championship.

There have been references to MCC in SMPs during moments of varying degrees of roleplay were occurring. In rp!Phil's case, it's safe to consider "main" Phil is the one who gets put into MCC.

None of this, to my memory, is considered canon by cc!Phil, just silly popular fanon.

(If/when we get more versions of rp!Phil, I'll add them wherever they belong in this post!)

[sugarcubeindulgent]

no idea if you did this or would lol. i suggested it RIGHT before you originally turned requests off, but what abt a dubcon/noncon-esk somnophilia fic. it doesnt haveeee to be a bad thing either, maybe the readers fine with it. just they wake up to their bf in the middle of fucking them, with no clue on how long this has been going on. hes never brought up before, never even mentioned being into somnophilia

can be with any of the characters just whoever you think would fit. idc who 🙏

howl | jerry stokes x f!reader

synopsis. jerry decides to take a risk. again.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. explicit content. noncon. somnophilia. strangling. blood mention. unprotected sex. established relationship. p in v.

a/n: love this request! thank you for the request, anon! i fear i made it a bad thing <\3 but then it becomes a good thing!

“God…I already feel tired…”,you mutter softly beside Jerry beneath the chatter of the movie playing on the television in his bedroom. Dark eyes slowly slide to you and Jerry tilts his head while looking at the way a small smile rests on your lips but your fluttering eyelids are so clearly fighting the weight of them. That familiar guilt coils through his intestines like rusty barbed wire but the excitement that tingles through his blood and veins when you yawn and fix your grip on his Toad plush in your grip seems to numb the guilt and ache of the sharp razors. “I always fall asleep so early when I sleep over here…”,you laugh and look at him with droopy eyelids,”Sorry.” Jerry smiles, he shakes his head and waves a hand in reassurance.

“It’s okay, sweetie.”,he says as he sits up a bit and he slips off the bed, feet touching the sleeping bag beside his bed he always uses when you sleep over. “You should just go to sleep. Don’t worry.” That excitement tingles all the warmer when you can barely give him a response, simply nodding and muttering incoherently while slowly sinking down and tugging the alien-patterned blanket over you. “Night.” You’re already dozing off, your head falling heavy against one of his pillows while your eyes finally slot shut like a doll being laid on its back. Except you’re on your side holding his Toad plush loosely.

Maybe he’s okay. He had given you less of his sleeping pills than usual, he was running so low and you were staying for another night – he didn’t want to waste either nights with you. But it seems like they’re working? That’s what he feels as he slowly steps closer to the bed and eyes you, you look so comfortable. You won’t wake up. Jerry begins to rationalize his thoughts as his cock twitches at the sight of your lips seperated for soft breaths, his eyebrows twitch and he runs a hand through his blonde hair. Swallowing thickly, he settles himself and walks over to his bedroom door.

The mechanical click of the lock makes him shudder and he grabs the remote off the foot of the bed. “She won’t wake up…she won’t…”,he mumbles to himself, a calming mantra as his hands tremble in the excited way they always seem to when he has his time alone with you.

Red roses blossom on his cheeks and at the tips of his ears as he turns up the television a bit before tossing the remote onto the sleeping bag he’ll use later. A big and dopey smile spreads on his lips as he stops where he knows your feet are. Hesitating, he slowly leans forward and his hands press into the bedding on either side of you. Leaning down, he blows into your ear like he always does when he wants to be sure. You don’t giggle or laugh, you don’t mumble for him to stop – you’re still asleep. Dead asleep. Jerry inhales shakily and immediately rips the blanket off of you.

When the fabric hits the ground, the plush follows next before your boyfriend turns you over onto your stomach. Jerry swallows thickly, positioned between your legs. He’s your boyfriend. This isn’t wrong. You two have had sex plenty of times so what’s wrong with it like this? It’s okay. That’s all Jerry keeps telling himself when he leans down and he rests his hands on either side of your head. But the guilt burns in him, it’s difficult to ignore but it doesn’t stand a chance against his throbbing cock and his excitement the moment he kisses your unmoving lips.

Kissing you, he whimpers before eagerly pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your jaw falls open slack and perfect. He pants against your mouth, his breaths warm and hot as he tongues down your throat and pushes the tip of his tongue against the inside of your cheek. Shaking and clammy hands grab your hips, pushing beneath your pajama shirt as he licks your teeth before taking your tongue between his lips to suck with a slightly shifting head in a back and forth motion. Clammy hands grab your tits beneath the fabric and he pulls away from the hot one-sided makeout with his mouth dripping in saliva.

Jerry opens his mouth, tongue lolling out so a glob of spit spills down to your tongue. He shudders at the sight, leaning down and mixing it in your mouth with his tongue to create lewd, wet noises before he pulls away again.

Slowly, gently, Jerry begins to pull off your shirt. Those same emotions burn up in him and his eyebrows furrow tightly, he frowns and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry…I’m disgusting…you’re so pretty…”,he whines as he tosses away the shirt. Leaning down immediately, he gropes one of your breasts while his mouth lavishes the other.

Suckling on your nipple, feeling it harden in his mouth and between his rolling fingers, he moans and begins to hump against your thigh. “I’m sorry…’m so sorry…”,he mumbles and whimpers around your nipple. Then he pulls off with a wet pop, marveling at the way the flesh jiggles when your skin falls back into place. He turns his attention to the other breast and he reaches down to grab at his waistband with his hands. Moaning around your nipple before pulling off in the same way and nuzzling his face into your sternum.

When his cock hits the air, he lets out a choked groan against your skin that smells like you. “Oh f-f-fuck…”,he whines. The air is cold against his hot and leaking cockhead, the tip an angry red as he pushes his pajama bottoms down to his knees pressed into the bedding between your legs.

Blonde hair is messy, he pulls his head up and Jerry looks down at you while panting heavily and grabbing your pajama bottoms by the fabric hiding your thighs. A string of pre-cum rolls down his cock at the sight of you. Laying on your back, arms spread to rest on either side of you. Wetness glistening on your nipples and tits, drool rolling down the side of your mouth. He can’t hold back, it’s been a week since he’s done this. He’s fucking sick, he knows.

“I’ll be quick…I promise, sweetie.” And he pulls the fabric in his fists.

Your cunt when you’re asleep is probably his favorite sight ever. It looks the same as when you’re awake, the only difference is how wet you are when you don’t even know what’s happening. His eyebrows sew up and he swallows thickly while spreading your thighs wide. Jerry grabs hold of the base of his cock, scared he’ll cum if he grabs anywhere near the sensitive tip – and he rubs the pre-cum along your folds and up to your clit. Jerry marvels at the way your breath hitches even while asleep.

Then, he slowly pushes into your relaxed and warm, wet hole. This is the best part. No fucking condoms.

“Oh m’god, oh m’god, oh–”,Jerry moans and whines quietly while feeling your wet and warm heat around his pulsing cock. He can’t even get fully inside before he grabs your hips and starts to rock his hips back and forth, his eyes screwing shut as he feels his cock pushing in and out of your wet cunt that’s so open for him. “You feel so good, honey…feel s’good, babe…love your pussy so much…”,he’s practically babbling as he fucks into you.

And he doesn’t seem to notice the way your eyelids twitch slightly.

Feeling your senses fluttering awake as your mind begins to unfog from the blanket of sleep, your eyebrows furrow and your mouth slowly shuts. The first thing you taste is sour gummy worms, your nose scrunches a bit knowing you hate eating those before you sleep. Hearing soft panting and heavy breathing your head slowly turns to keep your face directed up. Smelling sweat and Jerry’s dandruff shampoo, you then begin to feel something that makes you inhale softly. It’s a hard feeling of something pushing in and out of you, your eyes snap open and you look up with wide eyes.

“J-Jerry–wh-what–”

Your voice is raspy with sleep, your eyes wide yet someone bleary from sleep as you look from his wide eyes and mortified face downwards. Then you realize what’s happening, seeing Jerry buried into you up to his blonde pubes, your wide eyes look up into his face and panic settles in. Disgust slams into your heart and a violating feeling shoots through your chest. Immediately, you sit up and you shove at his chest.

“Jerry, what the fuck–” And you gasp when he suddenly slams you down by your shoulders. Your eyes widen at the sting where the balls of his palms slammed into the skin.

“Wait no I’m–I’m so sorry just–I-I can explain.”,he sputters in harsh and quick whispering while clamping one hand over your mouth. He doesn’t explain though, you feel him start to fuck into you again, his thrusts are hard and fast – like some desperate dog looking to get off. Fear and disgust make your eyes sting with tears and you try to crawl away from him. Muffled protests hit his palm for only moments, when he pulls his hand away you hope he’ll stop but then he wraps his hands around your throat.

Jerry’s hands tighten around your throat and you gasp, a choked gasp when you feel his palms against your windpipe and his fingers pressed into the source of your rushing blood. “J-Jerry wh–”,you’re unable to get much out while he sits up so you can’t smack or push his face as he fucks you. You begin to slap and punch at his arms but he’s strangling you tighter.

“‘M s’sorry…you feel s’good ‘m almost done j-just please…” Tears roll hotly down your temples, your eyes staring at him as he strangles you hard. You feel the violation, fear, and disgust shockingly and horrifyingly begin to slip away while looking up at Jerry.

You’ve never seen him like this. He’s always so sweet and cute, but right now – he’s still cute but not as much as he is…hot. The way he’s babbling apologies, talking about how good your pussy feels, how pretty you are, how he just has to do this – rape you essentially…And fuck, the way he’s not even flinching at the blood rolling down his arms now from where your nails ripped the first few layers of his skin. He’s like an animal, shoving his cock in and out of your pussy that’s squeezing him and squelching around his length. He’s not wearing a condom either. You come to a horrifying realization as you start to see sparkles in your eyes.

You’ve never felt so good fucking him.

When you smack against Jerry’s shoulder, he looks down at you and you nod eagerly while your back arches a bit. Jerry’s eyebrows twitch and furrow, he eases his palms on your windpipe and you gasp for air. Coughing softly with his hands still around your throat, you take a few moments before you nod eagerly. “F-Fuck me ha-harder, please?”,you whine raspily. And his eyes light up, he releases your throat and you go light-headed at the rush of blood.

His arms wrap around your waist and he starts to fuck into you even harder, balls smacking your ass as his cock reaches the sweetest spots inside of you while your arms wrap around his neck. You’re dizzy with pleasure and relief as he fucks you the best he’s ever had. “J-Jerry–u-uhn m-my god–fuck, you–feel s’good…”,you moan into his neck, keeping as quiet as you can while your face scrunches in pure pleasure and euphoria.

Jerry nods eagerly, his sweat smearing on you. “P-Pretty fuckdoll…m-my pretty fucktoy…”,he groans against your throat, words he’s never used before and it makes you all the wetter. “I’m g’nna cum in you…fill you so nice…” You don’t protest or argue, you nod happily as your stomach’s little ball of fire that’s been coiling since before you knew it’d been – you gasp when he pulls to the tip before slamming in to his balls to spill his cum inside of you.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl, nails digging into his back as you feel your first orgasm. You’re not simply cumming, you’re having an orgasm on his cock as he cums into your unprotected cunt. Gasping and panting, you breathe with some difficulty with his weight on your body and the near strangulation to unconsciousness. Breathing heavily, your body feels boneless and you drop your arms while your legs fall flat.

“I-I’m sorry…”,he breathes.

“D-Don’t b-be…”,you smile into his shoulder, feeling the smear of blood when you wipe them against his bedding.

[crimsonstonetranslations]

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo volume 11 - file 02

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo novel translation

Volume 11 - Worth of a Spirit ( prologue | file 01 )

file 02 - regret

-

1 -

“To think we’d end up finding a corpse...” Haruka muttered as she gazed at the warehouse, now standing out in the darkness illuminated by the red lights of police cars. “Right,” Standing next to her, Makoto nodded, her expression appearing deep in thought.

When they had entered, the atmosphere had been quiet with no signs of activity, but it had completely changed now. Yellow tapes stating ‘DO NOT CROSS’ were plastered around the warehouse, and police personnel walked about the place. Curious onlookers began to gather round, and some even seemed to be from the press.

It felt like she had set foot where she shouldn’t have. “How could there be a corpse in that box?” Mentioning that, the sight Haruka had seen back in the warehouse flashed into her mind.

The corpse they had just discovered had rotted and had been in the process of mummification. It seemed to have been abandoned for a fairly long time. The question now, just whose body was it? And how could it end up at such a place?

Not to mention the absence of a head from decapitation. Why would it have to be decapitated? Furthermore, where was the missing head?

The mystery grows deeper the further she wondered. “I have no idea at all. But… I feel that something bad’s about to happen.”

Makoto’s words echoed in her head. Haruka didn’t want to think about terrible things, yet she too could sense the anxiousness Makoto felt.

A baseless and ambiguous thought. Yet, Haruka felt something far unlike before was going to happen. “Until when are you planning to space out there?” asked Yakumo in an unenergetic tone as he walked closer.

The man didn’t appear to be shaken. Such was the difference of someone who was experienced with various cases. “I’m not spacing out. I just thought things are turning into a bigger problem…” said Haruka.

“Right,” said Yakumo, staring at the box-shaped building swarmed by police presence. “I think it’s better for us to leave the rest to the police now.”

Since a corpse had been discovered, the police would be treating this case as the abandonment of a corpse. In that case, that would be the end of their role. “How carefree of you,” said Yakumo, throwing a mocking look at Haruka.

“I’m not really being carefree.” “Seems carefree however I see it.”

“How did it even come to that?” As the case had developed into that of an abandonment of a corpse, they were no longer in any position to interfere.

“The spiritual case isn’t resolved yet—” said Makoto, answering Haruka’s question in place of Yakumo. “Ah!” Haruka blurted unknowingly. Couldn’t be helped that Yakumo had mockingly labelled her carefree. Their original goal hadn’t been to find a corpse.

Their purpose of coming here was to resolve the spiritual case Makoto had accepted from a woman. They had just happened to find a corpse in the process. That wasn't all. The matter concerning the ghost of a woman seen by Yakumo hadn’t met any progress, either.

Putting it another way, they still had two spiritual cases in their hands. Since the sex of the found corpse hadn’t been identified, there wasn’t much to say about it, but the body might have something to do with one of the two spiritual cases.

With that, there were still things they needed to do. At this point, Haruka began to wonder about one thing. “Yakumo-kun, did you see any ghosts back there?”

“I’m curious about that too,” added Makoto. Upon the intense stares he received, Yakumo gazed at the sky as if deep in thought before shaking his head.

“No. There wasn’t any back there.” “Is that so…”

Haruka thought if Yakumo had seen a ghost, they might be able to find a hint to solve the case from there, but she turned out to be mistaken. Makoto appeared slightly disappointed as well.

“Well, I’ve known from the start that there were no ghosts in that place,” said Yakumo. He didn’t seem to be making things up.

“How did you know?” “According to Makoto-san’s story, your client has been followed by a ghost since opening that box there, right?” reminded Yakumo, and Makoto’s face changed in realisation.

Haruka was the same. If the ghost had been following the woman who sought help, that meant the ghost had already left from that place.

“But if that’s the case, isn’t it better to meet that woman first?” Haruka popped the question, and Yakumo smiled. “That’s one way to do it, but the warehouse in question just happens to be close to my place.”

“That’s true.” Shorter distance aside, perhaps Yakumo had wanted to investigate the scene before meeting the woman who had seen the ghost.

“Well, the night’s getting late. While waiting for official autopsy results from the police, why don’t we meet up with Makoto-san’s client tomorrow to hear the story directly from her?” Yakumo suggested. Makoto nodded. “Alright.”

Haruka agreed as well. Surely there would be things they could gather by hearing that woman’s story in detail. “In that case, let’s head back,” said Yakumo, walking away.

Haruka was about to walk following him when she saw someone running over with incredible speed. She recognised that comical way of running whilst flailing one’s hands and legs.

“Ishii-san,” Haruka called, right as Ishii tripped over something. Said man fell—

Ishii seemed to have fallen with his face hitting against the ground. It appeared rather painful. Is he alright?

While thinking that, Ishii stood back up and continued running over in panic. It was almost like Ishii couldn’t see Haruka’s presence; he ran past her until he was in front of Makoto.

“Ma-Makoto-san! A-a-are you alright? I heard you were there when the corpse was found, so I...” Out of breath on top of panicking, he was incapable of continuing his sentence.

Regardless, the reason why Ishii was in such a panic was conveyed bright and clear. He must have been worried about Makoto.

“Compared to me, you look worse. Your nose is bleeding,” said Makoto as she placed a handkerchief over Ishii’s nose. “No, I’m fine. Rather, Makoto-san...”

“Hold on, don’t move. The blood…” Makoto had told Haruka earlier that she and Ishii had seen no progress, yet seeing their interaction at this moment, they were already painting the picture of an affectionate couple.

Makes me envious. Haruka thought as her sight was naturally drawn to Yakumo. Haruka assumed Yakumo would be wearing a sour look, yet to her surprise, he smiled warmly at the sight of Ishii and Makoto.

Though, he seemed to have noticed Haruka’s stare, so the man suddenly withdrew his smile. “What are you looking at?” Yakumo asked curtly.

“Nothing,” replied Haruka before poking his side. His startled figure, scrunched like a shrimp as he jumped away, looked somewhat adorable.

“You…” “What are you two up to flirting like that?” A voice interrupted Yakumo’s sentence. It was Gotou.

He was walking in their direction whilst using crutches. “Gotou-san. You’ve been discharged from the hospital?”

“Yeah. That was nothing but a scratch,” Gotou laughed in embarrassment. He had been unconscious and in critical condition. Nothing one could call a scratch at all. Even now, said ex-police detective was still wearing a cast.

Still, it was typical of Gotou to be acting tough like that. ”Gotou-san is here too? This is giving me a bad feeling,” Yakumo said, mixed with a sigh.

- 2

- The Movie Research Circle clubroom that was Yakumo’s hideout now became cramped.

In this room that was only four and a half tatami wide, starting from Gotou, then Ishii, Yakumo, Haruka, and Makoto, five people gathered there, so it was to be expected. Or perhaps he felt even more stuffy because of his crutch and cast.

Gotou’s decision to send Eishin and Miyagawa to handle matters elsewhere seemed to be the right one. “Good grief… to think this much trouble has accumulated…” Yakumo said in displeasure, propping his chin on one hand.

Normally Gotou would’ve thought of him as being narrow-hearted, but this time around, he could understand Yakumo’s response. After Gotou and Ishii had bumped into each other, upon questioning, Ishii had said he had seen a ghost at the abandoned house.

Gotou himself was in the middle of investigating a spiritual case requested by Eishin and he had just thought that they were struggling to resolve it on their own. Following a discussion, they had decided to consult Yakumo together and had made their way to Meisei University.

And yet— There had been a commotion upon their arrival at Meisei University. Inquiring about the situation from one of the officers acquainted with them, Gotou and Ishii had come to learn that a body had been discovered.

On top of that, after learning that the people who had discovered said body had happened to be Yakumo, Haruka, and Makoto, they had rushed to the scene. Having met with everyone, they had gathered in the Movie Research Circle clubroom to sort the situation, leading to the current predicament.

As it turned out, Yakumo’s discovery of the body had all started because of the spiritual case brought by Makoto. Not only that, Yakumo himself had seen a ghost in this room and had been looking into that matter as well.

Amidst that situation, Gotou and Ishii had come to consult spiritual cases of their own. Altogether, they had simultaneously gathered four spiritual cases in total. This seemed to be a new record.

It was understandable for Yakumo to be upset. Even so, while they have brought the cases themselves, considering how the cases have piled up from many people, Yakumo might as well be attracting trouble himself. Whichever it was—

“Everything has happened, so it can't be helped,” Gotou said firmly. Yakumo sighed deeply, making a blatant display out of it. “That’s just self-justification.”

“I know.” “If you’re still saying that even though you’re aware, you’re either an idiot or a bear incapable of comprehending language.”

“Who’s a bear?” “Don’t you know? In that case, I’ll tell you. The bear is you—Gotou-san.” said Yakumo, pointing at Gotou like a detective pointing to a culprit.

What an irritating bastard. Gotou had thought the previous case had straightened the slightly bent personality of the man before him, but he appeared to be gravely mistaken.

“Shut the blabbering already! Anyway, help us out!” pressed Gotou. Yakumo shook his head in disbelief.

“How many times do I have to say it for you to understand? When asking for someone’s help, what should you say?” said Yakumo, offering his ear in Gotou’s direction. Gotou was desperate to grab said man’s collar and send him flying, yet he was forced to hold himself back.

“I beg of you. Please lend us a hand.” Gotou bowed as he swallowed the feeling of humiliation. Yakumo clapped his hand lightly and said, “Good job.”

Gotou was infuriated by the man’s attitude, yet he felt something was missing. Normally after being scolded to no end by Yakumo, said man would still say, ‘I refuse’. For some reason, he was fairly amiable today. Perhaps Yakumo’s eccentric behaviour had been improved somewhat after all. Either way, he must take action while Yakumo was still willing to offer his assistance.

“Alright! Let’s get down to business!” Gotou shouted excitedly and was about to stand up, yet he had completely forgotten that his leg was still in a cast. As a result, he lost his balance and slid right off the chair.

Yakumo burst into laughter. Haruka and Makoto said in unison, “Are you alright?” yet it was obvious that they were holding back their giggles.

Ishii was the only one who extended his hand, asking him, “Are you hurt?” with a concerned look. At this point, Ishii’s behaviour only ended up irritating Gotou.

“I’m fine. Don’t say something so pathetic,” Gotou stood up whilst hitting Ishii’s head when the latter tried to help him stand. “Wh-why me…?” Ishii whined in surprise, but Gotou ignored him.

Now seated on his chair once more, Gotou said, “Anyway, let’s go!” Yakumo held his head and sighed as if displeased with something.

“It’s fine to be fired up and all, but where do we start? There’s only one of me.” “Well…”

A troublesome predicament. There were four spiritual cases in total that needed resolving.

It would be impossible to handle all of them at the same time. Even if they had to prioritise, how should they even order them? Gotou aside, the rest appeared to be at a loss as to where they should begin the conversation, sharing the same troubled look on their faces.

A long silence ensued before Yakumo sighed. “I have a suggestion so that we can solve the cases efficiently—” Yakumo briefly paused his sentence.

After waiting for everyone’s attention to turn to him, he continued, “Why don’t we help each other out using our individual expertise, regardless of whose case it is for? I’ll be the one sorting out the priority and splitting up the tasks.” I see.

All the cases were treated as everyone’s problem, with Yakumo as the one in charge. “Not a bad idea,” said Gotou.

“Of course. I don’t mind,” added Makoto right away. Ishii nodded as well. “I’ll cooperate too.”

“Alright then. In that case, let’s go with this approach.” Hearing Yakumo’s words, Gotou stroked his chest in relief.

“Anyway, the day’s getting overly late, and I’d like some time to sort my thoughts as well. Let’s call it a day and get things started tomorrow,” said Yakumo. Staring up onto the ceiling, Yakumo’s figure looked unusually exhausted.

- 3

- After leaving the Movie Research Circle clubroom that was Yakumo’s quarters, Ishii was sending Gotou and Makoto off with his car.

He had sent Gotou off first, and then Makoto next, solely because of location proximity and definitely not because he wanted some time alone with her. To whom was he making these excuses anyway?

Thinking that made him grow restless. “If the situation’s that serious, you could’ve discussed it with me…” said Ishii to deceive his feelings as he glanced at Makoto, sitting in the front passenger seat.

The same as ever, Makoto wore a gentle expression. Ishii had gone to Meisei University to consult a spiritual case to Yakumo. Yet at his arrival there, the news of a body being discovered had caught him by surprise.

Furthermore, upon learning that it had been found by Makoto and the others, his mind instantly blanked out. Anxiousness had then slowly crept at his heart.

Even though he hadn’t known the exact situation, his head had been filled by horrible thoughts, sending him into panic. Ishii was deeply relieved that nothing had happened.

“I never would have guessed we’d find a corpse. In the beginning, since it was a spiritual case, I simply thought it was Yakumo-kun’s expertise.” Makoto’s explanation made perfect sense.

Since it had begun as a spiritual case, it was logical that she'd discuss it with Yakumo. However—

For some reason, Ishii felt a little lonely. No, it was quite different from loneliness. An uncomfortable feeling piled within his heart. “I-is that so...”

“If I knew things would turn out like this, I suppose I should've relied on you from the start,” Makoto let out a childlike laugh. A laughter that sounded so sweet, it made Ishii smile as well. At the same time, he came to realise the true form of the uncomfortable feeling inside of him.

Ishii wanted to be relied on. He wanted him to be the first person Makoto could think of to discuss with in the face of trouble.

In the end, it was nothing but wishful thinking. Even if Makoto were to consult with him, Ishii unfortunately couldn’t do anything. Not because he couldn’t see ghosts the way Yakumo could, but because Ishii wasn’t a man worthy of being relied on.

Even if he were to be depended on, he was a cowardly man. In helping out, he wouldn’t be able to give sound advice and would merely get confused. Well aware of the fact, he felt dejected. “Sorry,” Ishii said without realising.

“Why are you apologising?” Makoto frowned in confusion.

“If only I was more dependable, I’d be able to help you out a little…” said Ishii, stopping his car at a red light. His heart withered at how pathetic he was.

“Why are you saying that?” Makoto stared intently at Ishii. Her eyes hinted at a profound sadness Ishii had never seen before.

“Because I feel like I’m pathetic,” said Ishii, facing forward as he couldn’t bear receiving Makoto’s stare. “You’re not pathetic.”

Makoto was a kind person. That was why she said those words of consolation. And yet, that only made Ishii feel even more pathetic. “I’m a sorry excuse of a man. Always failing, no self confidence, and easily swayed.”

“Is that so? To me, that seemed like gentleness.” “I’m not gentle. I’m just weak.”

“I think someone who can admit their weakness is actually a tough person.” “That’s not true. I...”

Ishii couldn’t follow up his sentence well. Ishii admired Gotou. He wanted to become tough like him. Someone who could jump into things at any moment without steering away from their principles. Such an ideal was Ishii’s goal.

And yet— His strength would refuse to come out in critical situations. Although his mind understood, his heart couldn’t keep up. As a result, he became an embarrassment of a human being, far from his ideals.

He hated himself for always running away. “Ishii-san, do you hate yourself?” asked Makoto.

Ishii didn’t have the courage to confirm what expression Makoto had while asking that question. Hence, he dropped his gaze and as he stared at his hands on the steering wheel, he replied meekly, “Yes. I hate myself.”

From the moment he was born, Ishii had never liked himself even once. He felt like he had always been living in denial of his own existence. He tried his best whilst thinking he’d change someday, but all of that effort seemed to be in vain.

Makoto placed her hand over Ishii’s, still grasping the steering wheel. Her hand was soft and warm. Startled, Ishii turned to Makoto in reflex.

Makoto smiled. Her eyes narrowed, and she gave a warm smile so tender and affectionate. “For me, I do like—”

Makoto’s words, spoken quietly, almost felt like they echoed within the car’s cramped interior. That word like just now—just what could it mean?

The more he thought about it, the beating of Ishii’s heart grew even harder. His breathing struggled and his mouth gasped in search of oxygen. “U-um...”

When Ishii firmed his resolve to ask, his car was being honked at loudly. Apparently the traffic light had turned green.

Ishii hurriedly stepped on the gas to start the car. For some reason, Makoto laughed out loud at the sight of him.

- 4

- “Somehow things had gotten serious,” Haruka spoke as she digested the fact.

Since it was getting late, the investigation would begin the next day, hence Gotou and the rest had gone home. Not just the matter Yakumo was faced with and the case Makoto had brought, Gotou and Ishii too had brought cases of their own.

A single case in itself would be tough, let alone four at the same time; it was obviously overwhelming. “Well, it’s always like this,” Yakumo said lazily as he supported his chin with one hand.

What he said was true, they always ended up getting tangled in troubles complicated and strange. Even so, Haruka felt that Yakumo’s expression appeared slightly different from usual. In this situation, Yakumo normally would’ve made a face like the world was about to end, but oddly enough, right now his expression looked somewhat content.

Come to think of it, Yakumo’s own case hadn’t been someone’s request, but something he had gotten involved out of his own volition. Looking back thus far, it was like the impossible happened. Indeed, the previous case seemed to have brought a drastic transformation on Yakumo’s psyche.

Yakumo had always had a side to him that hated himself. It was the reason he had often taken actions that would put his life in danger. Hence, it was by no means an ordinary feat for Yakumo to have accepted his own existence.

Not to mention the existence of the man with two red eyes, Yakumo’s father. Accepting himself meant accepting said man’s presence, too. Right now, Yakumo chose to walk forward.

If Yakumo had really changed, it might be good for Haruka to summon her courage and voice out what was within her heart. Thinking that far made her face heat up.

She tried not to think about it, but the events that had unfolded in the previous case would resurface in her mind from time to time. The events in which Haruka had spontaneously confessed her innermost feelings to Yakumo. A part of her wanted to savour their current relationship, yet on the other hand she felt like her time was running out as graduation drew closer.

No, it wasn’t merely because of graduation. In this life, no one could predict what might happen. For all she knew, she could get into an accident after this and lose her life as a result.

In fact, through various cases she had faced so far, Haruka had seen countless people who had abruptly lost their lives without having a chance to convey their feelings. Keep this up and her life might just be over without ever knowing how Yakumo felt.

Since it was just the two of them right now, perhaps she could ask for his answer in regards to back then. “What’s on your mind?” Yakumo’s sudden question brought Haruka back to her senses.

“Eh?” “It’s unusual for you to make a troubled expression. What are you thinking about?”

“O-obviously about the cases,” Haruka blurted in panic. Crap.

That should’ve been the appropriate timing to ask for Yakumo’s answer. She should’ve just replied in earnest that she was thinking about that time, yet why had she evaded the topic instead?

Surely it had been out of fear. Even though Haruka thought she’d regret not finding out Yakumo’s reply, she too feared that it would destroy their relationship.

Perhaps she should have confessed to Yakumo much earlier. Their distance had gotten far too close to tear apart now. Yakumo had become far too significant of a presence within Haruka.

So this was what it meant to have missed the timing— “What do you think?”

“About what?” “About what—the cases. Aren’t you thinking about it?”

Right. Haruka had said she was thinking about the cases, so it was natural for the conversation to flow in that direction.

That might be so, yet since her mind was mulling over something else in reality, there wasn’t anything she could say. Though upon hearing the stories of Gotou and the rest, there was one thing she became curious about.

“We still don’t know anything about them, but… could it be that these cases are related?” That was what bugged Haruka’s mind.

Each of the cases took place in different locations. Yet since they had all occurred at the same time, she couldn’t help but suspect they had some connection with one another. “For the time being, I don’t think there’s a connection between them. Still…” Yakumo crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling.

“What is it?” “There's something bothering me.”

“So what is it then?” His almost dramatic, roundabout way of speaking made Haruka curious about what was to follow.

Haruka fell silent, awaiting Yakumo’s subsequent words, yet in the end Yakumo shook his head without saying a word. Almost like he had forcefully gotten rid of his thoughts. “Let’s end this conversation.”

“Why?” “It’s best not to make unnecessary assumptions right now.”

Yakumo’s tone was as if he was giving himself a reminder. At this point, Yakumo wouldn’t voice out his thoughts however you urged him to.

“Well, let’s think about it after the investigation begins tomorrow,” Yakumo put a stop to the conversation. Though dissatisfied, as Yakumo had told, they would surely discover a number of things when the investigation began.

“In that case, I’ll be going home,” Haruka stretched out her body as she stood up. Even though she had merely intended to make a brief visit to Yakumo, she had gotten herself involved in cases yet again. Not that she was disappointed about it.

It might be inappropriate of her to put it this way, but she enjoyed investigating cases with Yakumo. Besides, perhaps this case might just be the last. “Is it alright?” said Yakumo as Haruka was about to leave the room.

“What is?” “I mean… it’s getting late...”

His words seemed uncertain, unlike the usual Yakumo. Not to mention he was turning his face away. What’s up with that?

“It’ll be fine,” Haruka replied. “Is that so,” Yakumo gave a short reply before closing his mouth.

He seemed like he had something to say, but they’ll be meeting again tomorrow after all. Haruka gave a parting greeting, “Then, I’ll see you—” before leaving the room. Her body trembled slightly from the cold wind. Closing the door to Yakumo’s room, she began to walk.

Haruka left the campus grounds and walked all the way to the bus stop. After checking the bus schedule, it turned out she needed to wait around twenty minutes before the next bus arrived. Like this, it might be faster to go home on foot.

As she slowly walked, the image of Yakumo’s face from earlier flashed into Haruka’s mind. Thinking back on it now, the man seemed to appear flustered.

Could it be that Yakumo had wanted to accompany Haruka home earlier? No way Yakumo-kun would do that, Haruka immediately denied.

Not once had Yakumo ever had the intention to accompany Haruka home. There was no way he would say something like that out of the blue. But—

Haruka could feel that Yakumo had changed since the last case. If the man had really wanted to accompany her home, Haruka would happily accept. Though it was the mere act of sending her home, it would surely become an unforgettable memory to her.

Furthermore, it would be her chance to ask about the feelings within Yakumo’s heart she had always wanted to know. Still, it’d be odd for her to go back now.

Besides, if it turned out that Haruka had misunderstood, she’d be showered with colourful mockery, “Are you sleeptalking?” and the like. As Haruka laughed bitterly inside, someone called out to her. “Um...”

She reflexively halted her steps and turned around. Someone stood right behind her. The person’s face wasn't clearly visible as it was dark, but they seemed to be someone Haruka didn’t recognise.

“Ozawa Haruka-san, right?” said the person, pronounced loud and clear. Haruka immediately went into a state of alert.

How did this person know her name? She couldn’t find an answer to that question.

Awful premonition immediately came over her. An emotion, similar to that of fear, crept up from her feet. “You’re wrong,” Haruka said firmly and immediately ran for it.

Galloping footsteps chased right behind her. Unfortunately for her, Haruka wasn’t particularly great at running. It was only a matter of time before the other party would catch up. Mid running, Haruka shoved a hand into her bag to find her phone.

She wanted to call and ask for help. By poor luck, right as she managed to take her phone out of her bag and was about to make a call, her arm was caught.

“Let go,” Haruka tried to shake off that hand, yet she couldn’t as her opponent’s strength was too great.

Her phone slid right off her hand. The eyes of her pursuer glinted amidst the darkness.

- 5

- Yakumo stared at the low ceiling and exhaled a long sigh—

His chest had been rumbling with unease since earlier. At this moment, his heart was mostly filled with an indescribable sense of anxiety. A vague anxiousness that something terrible was about to happen. As Haruka had been leaving, he had actually wanted to say, “Let me accompany you back.”

All because that woman’s—the fugitive murderer Nanase Miyuki’s—words from the previous case came to his mind. I’ll be taking away the person most important to you next.

Even without saying, it was clear who she had been referring to. There was no mistaking that Nanase Miyuki was after Haruka. The various spiritual cases that happened today—

Surely it had to be no coincidence that this many cases had occurred one after another. Perhaps this had been the work of an orchestrator. On top of that, there had been a reported sighting of a man who seemed to be Unkai in the basement. It was likely that this array of cases had been part of their plan.

He hadn't dared to put it into words when speaking to Haruka earlier, but Yakumo had been thinking of that possibility. He should’ve explained the situation and accompanied Haruka all the way to her place.

Yet somehow, when he had the intention to say it, a sense of embarrassment emerged. Yakumo was baffled by feelings he’d never experienced before. He couldn’t understand why he could be in such a wavering state.

No, that’s not it— The truth was he knew.

Although he thought he’d accepted his own existence, things couldn’t change as easily as flipping a switch. In the end, he’d only managed to utter something vague.

And now, he was enveloped by the feeling of anxiety. If he were this worried, he should’ve immediately chased after her earlier. That should’ve been the way to go, yet somehow his body hadn’t been able to move.

Ever since the last case, he’d become increasingly aware about Haruka’s presence. Surely it had to be because a part of him understood well what her existence meant to him.

In reality, he’d known the fact since way back. He merely hadn’t acknowledged it. To be more precise, it was something beyond his consideration since he’d been denying his own existence. Yakumo sighed a few times before he took his phone out of his pocket.

Even if he wasn’t going as far as chasing her, he could give Haruka a call to confirm that she’d arrived home safe. Though if he were to make such a call, just what sort of reaction Haruka would make?

The thought bothered him. He couldn’t help but grow restless over suddenly doing something he’d never done before.

Still, he’d be all the more restless if he had to wait until tomorrow in a situation such as this. While he wrestled over various thoughts in his mind, his phone rang all out of a sudden. On the screen displayed the word ‘restricted’.

“Yes,” Yakumo picked up the call despite his suspicion. Suppressed laughter could be heard from the other side of the call. The voice of a woman he recognised.

His body shivered and it was almost like all his blood had been drained out. <It’s been a while.>

Treading carefully to not make his wavering heart noticeable, Yakumo spoke the name of the woman on the opposite end of the call.  “Nanase Miyuki...”

<Correct. You sure know well,> said Nanase Miyuki, her voice rang of mockery. That woman was always like this. A condescending, almost tyrannical, and arrogant way of talking.

“What business do you have?” asked Yakumo, trying to sound as calm as possible. Nanase Miyuki wasn’t one to call him for no reason. Well aware of the fact, his anxiety grew larger.

<My warning from back then—do you remember?> Nanase Miyuki’s delighted voice was like the equivalent of a death sentence for Yakumo.

He felt a sense of furiousness enough to drive him to madness, but Yakumo held it back with all his might. Losing his composure here would be like handing over victory to his opponent. “What did you do—to her?” asked Yakumo.

Nanase Miyuki laughed once more. <I didn’t do anything, though.> She put an emphasis on the word I.

“Do you think you can deceive me?” <I’m not deceiving you. Really. I, didn’t do anything. If something happened to her, it’d be someone else’s doing.>

“What are you trying to say?” <Surely you understand. I’m merely acting out of kindness to let you know that she’s in danger—>

“DON’T JOKE WITH ME!” He’d begun yelling without even realising. The anger he’d been suppressing had far exceeded its limits and eventually exploded. 

<I’m not joking. If you want to save her, you should hurry up and solve the mystery.> “Mystery?”

<That’s right. This is a game. Will you be able to solve the mystery and save her? Or will her life come to an end first—> “Why are you doing something like this…?”

<I want you to know as well. The pain, sadness, and despair of losing someone important to you… Once you do, you’ll be able to understand my feelings.> “I have no intention to understand your feelings.”

<Just how long will you be able to keep up that tough facade? I’m curious, just what will you sacrifice for the sake of your loved ones—> said Miyuki who then hung up. “Damn it!” Yakumo cursed as he rushed out of his room.

Would he still make it if he were to run now? The thought crossed his mind. Nanase Miyuki wasn’t a woman who’d call to warn him out of goodwill. As she’d contacted Yakumo, it could only mean that it was already too late.

Yakumo understood the fact in his head, yet he couldn’t just sit still. Perhaps—

Yakumo ran whilst hanging onto the possibility. Exiting the campus grounds, he stopped as he cast his eyes all over his surroundings as he reached the bus stop. Yet there were no signs of Haruka.

Had she not taken the bus and walked home instead? Yakumo began running along one road that extended from the university.

Regret surfaced from the bottom of his heart, tormenting him. Why hadn’t he accompanied Haruka back? Yakumo continued to run as if escaping from that regret.

Moments passed before he reflexively halted his footsteps as he spotted a dropped phone on the side of the road. He recognised its phone strap.

There was no mistaking that it belonged to Haruka— Having confirmed it, Yakumo felt a sense of hopelessness like he’d been shoved down the depths of hell.

“Damn it...” he cursed in frustration when he felt the eyes of someone on him. As if drawn to its direction, Yakumo turned to find a man standing in the darkness.

The man wore a black suit and his long black hair was swept back. And—

His eyes shone bright red like burning flames. Said man was Yakumo’s biological father, Unkai.

A man who had lost his physical body and only his spirit remained in existence. And yet it only fueled his obsession to live and wander in search of a body he could use as a vessel for his spirit. As someone who was related to him by blood, Unkai had been relentlessly chasing after Yakumo, in hopes of making Yakumo a replacement for his body.

Still, Unkai should’ve understood himself. The body that had been lost would never come back, and he wouldn’t be able to live long by using someone else as a vessel.

Especially after what he’d gone through in the previous case, Unkai’s heart had undoubtedly begun to waver. Unkai’s presence before Yakumo’s eyes at this moment, partially blending into the surroundings, was proof of the fact. The pressure he once held was nowhere to be found.

The man seemed to be having difficulty maintaining his existence as a spirit in this world. “Where did you take her?” asked Yakumo.

Unkai narrowed his eyes slightly and the muscles around his mouth softened. He laughed?

It was different from the cold smile he’d displayed countless times before. Yakumo sensed there was another meaning behind that laugh. “Will you be able to stop her? That woman—” Unkai whispered.

A line he’d typically use as means of provocation, yet Yakumo didn’t feel any such intention this time. There was something else— “You...” Yakumo spoke before swallowing the rest of his words.

Unkai’s presence that had once been there now disappeared.  Yakumo could only stand there, frozen still in bewilderment.

- 6

- “Ishii! What’s the meaning of this?”

The moment he stepped into his former office, the Unsolved Cases Special Investigations Division, Gotou immediately made demands upon finding Ishii sitting on his desk. With a confused look, Ishii merely moved his mouth repeatedly with no words coming out of it.

“I’m asking you what’s the meaning of this! Speak up right now!” Gotou yelled, grabbing Ishii by the collar and shaking him. With his head bobbing back and forth, Ishii merely gave a vague reply, “Um, that...”

“I told you to say it, so say it!” yelled Gotou once more, but someone grabbed his arm. It was Miyagawa. “Calm down a little. Like this, even if he wanted to answer, he won’t be able to.” Being scolded by Miyagawa, Gotou was able to ease his nerves a little.

Certainly, he’d been overly panicked. Gotou released Ishii, and let himself fall on a nearby chair. Only now he came to feel the pain on his leg, though he didn’t have the time to worry about it.

“Is it true that Haruka-chan was abducted?” asked Gotou again whilst glaring at Ishii. When he’d received a call from Ishii, he honestly hadn’t believed it. He couldn’t understand why things had suddenly turned this way.

However— Nanase Miyuki’s words soon crossed his mind.

During the previous case, Nanase Miyuki had signalled that Haruka would be her next target. Gotou didn’t want to think about it, yet it would make sense for her to be the one behind Haruka’s abduction. Gotou, who had gone home and was about to crash out for the day, had immediately barged out of the house and took a taxi all the way here.

“According to what I heard from Yakumo-shi, it appears to be true,” Ishii said as he adjusted his crooked glasses and dishevelled white shirt. His voice was almost like a whisper, yet hearing it once more from Ishii’s mouth shook Gotou to his core, his brain felt like a trembling mess.

“Yakumo didn’t see the scene?” “Seems so. Apparently he received a call from Nanase Miyuki, and the conversation implied that Haruka had been abducted.”

“A call?” “Yes. Yakumo-shi immediately went to run after Haruka, but she was already nowhere to be found, and only her phone was left dropped on the roadside—”

Goodness. Uncontrollable rage emerged from within Gotou.

Yet no amount of yelling would solve any problem. He needed to get himself together and immediately prioritise finding Haruka as soon as possible. “The police are conducting a search, right?” said Gotou.

Ishii’s expression grew complicated. “Of course we are searching. But… there isn’t much of a lead...” Ishii’s voice quickly died, the end of his sentence wasn’t audible.

“What’s with you, getting all pessimistic? Whatever it takes, we have to find her,” Gotou grasped at Ishii’s collar yet again. Haruka’s life was on the line. Now wasn’t the time to sit still from the mere lack of any leads.

“I-I know. But...” “No such thing as buts! I said to find her!”

“She won’t get found by making a ruckus here,” Entering the room with the sound of the door opening was Yakumo. 

“Where have you been at a time like this?” Gotou said harshly. With a sour look, Yakumo deeply sighed. “I’ve just explained the situation to the police officer in charge so that the search operation can begin.”

“I see,” Yakumo’s explanation made Gotou understand, yet at the same time, he felt it was strange for Yakumo to be so composed despite the whole situation. Pointing that out to Yakumo, the man’s eyes became sharp.

He shot a gaze that carried with them such intensity of emotions, one Gotou had never seen from him before. The pressure was so overwhelming it left Gotou at a loss for words. “You’re trying to say that I’m fine?” Yakumo muttered.

Gotou’s chest grew heavy. “Sorry.” He needed to apologise here.

There was no mistaking that Yakumo was the one whose heart was the most affected by this whole ordeal. Not Gotou nor Ishii. The fact that Yakumo could speak calmly like this had to come from his firm determination to find Haruka by any means necessary.

“Um… Is Haruka-chan safe?” asked Ishii, his voice almost fading away. Haruka’s safety was their utmost concern. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t find the answer to that question in this place.

In this situation, they were forced to assume the worst case scenario. “I think she’s probably safe,” said Yakumo.

His tone didn’t sound like he was uttering baseless, wishful thinking. Instead, he seemed certain of the fact. “How do you know?” asked Gotou.

Yakumo ran a hand over his dishevelled hair. “She—Nanase Miyuki said so.” “Said what?”

“She said that this is a game. Whether I’ll be able to solve the mystery first, or she’ll be the one who dies first—” Yakumo sounded fed up as he spoke, biting down on his lip. Gotou felt the same way. To think that woman would orchestrate a game that treated others’ lives like playthings; how blatantly sadistic.

“What game. That bastard of a woman.” “I feel the same. But now that things have come to this, we have no choice but to win that game,” emphasised Yakumo.

Yakumo seemed to have steeled his resolve. Or perhaps to be more accurate, they didn’t have any other choice. Still, one thing bothered him.

“Is Haruka-chan really fine? There’s no guarantee Nanase Miyuki will play fair.” Gotou didn’t want to think about it, yet it was possible that Haruka was already dead.

This was a game that would certainly be won by Nanase Miyuki. “I think it should be fine.”

“How can you be certain?” “It’s part of her personality. Despite everything, she adheres to her own rules. Besides that, her pride and desire to be the centre of attention are high.”

From Yakumo’s words, Gotou came to understand. The woman’s high sense of pride was all too familiar to them. Furthermore, one could say her sense of rivalry towards Yakumo far exceeded reasonable bounds.

Hence, it was likely for that Nanase Miyuki to want to win against Yakumo following the rules of a fair game, all for the sake of getting swept away by a feeling of superiority. “But, how do we plan on finding Haruka-chan?” Ishii sounded discouraged yet again.

“We have no choice but to search everywhere,” said Gotou as he stood up. While time consuming, it was the only remaining effective method, considering the lack of clues.

“Gotou-san’s an idiot as always,” said Yakumo whilst landing a ridiculing look. “What did you say?”

“It’d be impossible to find her by searching blindly all over the place.” “I guess so...”

“Also, it will be more efficient to entrust the police with the exhaustive search, who have the manpower to do so.” Yakumo was right. However—

“In that case, what do we do?” “Nanase Miyuki said her life would be lost if I didn’t solve the mystery.”

“What mystery?” “She never mentioned it explicitly. But for now, the spiritual cases happening around us are all we know of.”

I see. The spiritual phenomena which Yakumo, Gotou, Ishii, and Makoto had encountered hadn’t been mere coincidence, and instead had some connection to Haruka’s abduction.

Unlike Gotou who could only panic, apparently Yakumo had judged the situation whilst remaining cool-headed. That led him to conclude their next course of action. What a remarkable guy, Gotou was briefly impressed.

Though he was acting calmly, Yakumo’s face had a terrible complexion. His expression appeared stiff as well. He had to be holding onto his sanity for dear life out of a strong desire to rescue Haruka.

Just what might happen if Yakumo were to lose Haruka? Gotou shook his head to chase away the awful thought. Now wasn’t the time to think of unnecessary thoughts. The only thing needed doing now was to solve the mystery to find Haruka.

“Then, what should we do now?” asked Gotou. Yakumo’s brows furrowed slightly. “You’re planning to help out with that leg?”

It was typical of Yakumo to not be honest even though he wanted the assistance. “I told you this is just a scratch.”

“It might get worse, you know.” “For the sake of saving Haruka-chan, I don’t mind sacrificing a leg or two,” Gotou spoke as he patted his cast, and Yakumo exploded in laughter.

“Thank you,” said Yakumo, although his voice was closer to a whisper. For some time now, the man had grown to be more sincere. Either way, it was good. Now wasn’t the time to be stubborn. They have to find Haruka no matter what.

“I’d like to ask for Ishii-san’s assistance as well, is that alright?” Before Yakumo could finish his sentence, Ishii had already puffed out his chest, exclaiming, “Of course!”

- 7

- Leaving the police quarters together, Ishii and Miyagawa walked towards the hospital—

Their objective was to inquire about the autopsy results of the body that had been discovered at the university warehouse, per Yakumo’s instructions. Never would he have dreamed that things would take such a turn. He struggled to breathe and his chest felt like it was being crushed at the mere thought that something might happen to Haruka.

His attraction and feelings towards Haruka as a woman have reduced now. Still, Haruka remained an important person to him. He had lost count of how many times he’d been saved by Haruka’s presence.

If not for Haruka’s kindness, Ishii might have lost confidence a long time ago and would have withdrawn from the police force. Therefore, now was his turn to help. He needed to save Haruka no matter what.

Yakumo had said that solving the mystery behind the spiritual cases would be the key to saving Haruka, but to be honest, Ishii didn’t understand why that would be so. Be as it might, they undoubtedly had no other way to look for Haruka.

He had no choice but to proceed onwards following the path Yakumo had pointed. It was late into the night. The hospital front entrance had been closed, so they headed towards the side entrance. After showing their police badges to the security guard, they went inside.

Ishii wasn’t great with hospitals at nighttime. The combination of green emergency lights illuminating the dark further intensified the eeriness.

They descended the stairs down to the basement and walked to the end of the long corridor. Nodding to each other with Miyagawa, who stood next to him, Ishii knocked at the door. “It’s not locked,” The raspy voice of an old man called from within.

“Excuse us,” greeted Ishii as he opened the door hesitantly. “Oh. So it’s you two.”

Hata Hideyoshi, sitting on his chair as he wrote on some documents, slowly lifted his face. Said man was an ageing forensic doctor with bulging eyes. His appearance could be likened to that of a demon. Furthermore, he was a perverse man who unabashedly admitted to his work being a hobby.

“Sorry for coming over this late,” said Ishii, apologising. Hata let out an eerie chuckle. “Better than coming in the morning. I’m a night owl after all.”

“A disgusting fraud of a doctor, as usual,” Miyagawa added. “I wondered who it was, but it turned out to be an Umibozu[1]. I heard you got demoted?” Hata said mockingly, followed by another terrifying laugh.

“Shut up! What a demonic old man.” “On the topic of demons, umibozu is one, too.”

“What did you say?” “Miyagawa-san, please calm down,” Ishii hurriedly tried pacifying Miyagawa.

They wouldn’t win a verbal fight against Hata. Besides, Miyagawa shouldn’t have taken the words of an eccentric like Hata too seriously. Most importantly, it was an utterly unproductive discussion, with all the mention of demonic old man and umibozu.

Though clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction, Miyagawa decided that solving the case took priority and shut his mouth. As the situation grew calmer, Ishii brought up the main topic. “Actually, there is something we’d like to ask.”

“Aah. About the corpse that was discovered at the university, right?” said Hata, reading their minds. Ishii couldn’t hide his surprise. “How did you know we were going to ask that?”

“Nothing much really. From the timing, it had to be about that corpse. Furthermore, wasn’t the discovery made by that young man with a red eye?” It made sense to Ishii after that explanation.

Judging based on the circumstances, the answer would come forth naturally. It would speed up the conversation since Hata had understood that much. “So, how was the autopsy results?”

“How impatient. I couldn’t have known that easily. Besides, the corpse is fairly aged and rotting. The fact that it’s a male corpse is pretty much all I’ve found.” “I-I see...”

Certainly, that was true. Said corpse had only been discovered merely hours ago. One wouldn’t have to struggle so much if it could be identified in such a short period of time.

“I don’t know much yet, but there are a few things that caught my attention,” said Hata, scratching his nape. “R-really!?”

“Don’t yell.” “S-sorry.”

Hata exhaled in disbelief before continuing, “As I said earlier, the corpse has long since rotted, so I could no longer identify the cause of death.” As he listened to Hata’s explanation, Ishii felt something was amiss.

“Um… I heard that the head was decapitated. Was that not the cause of death?” “Don’t be hasty. It could have been decapitated after death.”

“R-right,” What Hata said was correct. Ishii seemed to have rushed into conclusions.

There may not be obvious external injuries to the body, but in place of its head was a stump. The head could’ve been fatally hit by blunt force before it had been decapitated. “The cause of death may be unknown, but the area of the neck where it was cut off was quite neat.”

“Neat?” “Yes. Human necks can’t easily be cut off. There are bones underneath. If an amateur forcefully tried to cut through, it would make for a sloppy cut. Yet this corpse’s neck was severed cleanly.”

“I see,” Miyagawa, who was frowning earlier, nodded as if he suspected something. “Did you get something?” Ishii asked with enthusiasm.

“You’ll understand if you think about it calmly. The corpse’s neck was thoroughly cut. What do you think that means?” Miyagawa’s explanation made Ishii come to a realisation. Had the head been sliced with the intent to kill, the wound would have been messy. In other words, it had been cut off after death.

That left them with the question of why someone had gone through the trouble of cutting off the head after the person had died. Even so, Ishii could more or less arrive at the answer.

“Was the head taken away to hide the corpse’s identity?” Though expressing it as a question, Ishii said it quite confidently. However, Hata immediately refuted his opinion.

“That way of thinking might work if this incident was from decades ago, but scientific investigation is much more developed now. One wouldn’t be able to obscure a victim’s identity just by removing the corpse’s head.” Hata’s explanation made Ishii realise yet again that he wasn’t thinking with enough composure.

Even with the head taken away, starting with DNA testing, there were various ways to identify a body. If the culprit truly intended for the corpse’s identity to be hidden, the corpse itself had to be destroyed. But if such were the case, Ishii became confused.

“Why would they only take the head away?” With a smile full of meaning, Hata responded to the question Ishii had muttered.

This response—could it be that Hata had already known the reason? “I myself don’t know why only the head was taken. Still—don’t you two have an idea, just which woman has been faithfully carrying around a human head?” Hata spoke as he stared at Ishii with his bulging eyes.

Ishii didn’t know which peculiar individual would be walking around with a human head in their possession. Besides, what would be the benefit of walking around carrying such an object—no, that wasn’t it. He was mistaken.

He knew of one person. A woman going around carrying a human head—

“Nanase Miyuki,” Ishii said the name in horror, to which Hata gave a satisfied nod. -

8 -

Gotou looked up at the grandiose house— Overgrown trees obscured the moonrays, until this building alone appeared to be swallowed by darkness.

“Does this place really have a connection to all this?” Gotou couldn’t help being doubtful.

Ishii and Miyagawa had come here from constant reports about ghost sightings seen within the vicinity of this house. Ishii too had stated that he’d seen a ghost here. Despite that, Gotou still felt this was a matter unrelated to Haruka’s abduction.

“We came here to confirm that,” Yakumo replied as he messed up his dishevelled locks. “Do we have time for that? While we’re in the middle of this, Haruka-chan—”

“I know that!” Yakumo exclaimed as he glared at Gotou with a sharp look. Witnessing those eyes, Gotou was once again met with the realisation that Yakumo had to be the most restless compared to anyone else.

“Right now it’s necessary to correctly tell apart what’s related and what’s not. If we were to decide that something’s unrelated right away without confirming it, we might be unable to see the truth.” Gotou could clearly tell that Yakumo was forcefully suppressing his emotions.

He was right. They would miss the truth if they were to make careless decisions. If that were to happen, Haruka would really be beyond saving.

Though pressed by time, circumstances left them no room for mistakes. “I’m sorry.” Gotou apologised sincerely.

Yakumo made a sour look. “Please don’t do things unbefitting of yourself.” “What do you mean?”

“Anyway, let’s go,” Ignoring Gotou’s demand for an answer, Yakumo stepped into the grounds of the house. His strides may be confident, yet his back seemed weak and vulnerable.

Yakumo might not put it into words, but the worst case scenario must have crossed his mind. With every reminder, he was surely tormented by despair. Nevertheless, he continued to motivate himself out of the desire to rescue Haruka. He must have gone through that over and over again.

Without a doubt, the burden within Yakumo’s heart was unimaginable. It’s alright. Surely, we’ll be able to save Haruka-chan. Gotou mumbled in his heart as he watched over Yakumo’s back. Those words weren’t directed at just Yakumo, but at himself as well.

He wouldn’t be able to press forward without believing so. Everything will be over if he were to lose all hope. Still using crutches, Gotou went after Yakumo.

Already standing before the front door of the house, Yakumo slowly turned the doorknob. With a push from Yakumo, the door finally opened, its rusty hinges rubbing against each other with a high-pitched squeak.

The interior of the house was dark. Pitch-black void as if blotted over with black ink gaped open before them. There was an eeriness to its appearance, almost bridging to another dimension. Yakumo turned on a penlight and entered the house relying on said source of light.

Gotou too stepped inside after him. The first room they went into seemed to be a living room.

A sofa and a table still remained. Though covered in dust, Gotou could tell that these items were rather expensive. “They said a woman used to live in this place?” asked Yakumo after he’d walked all the way until he was in front of the fireplace on the living room wall.

“Yeah.” That was the information Ishii had provided.

“It appears we might need to look into that again more closely,” said Yakumo as he picked up a picture frame set atop the fireplace. “What do you mean?”

“This—” Yakumo handed over said picture frame so Gotou could see it as well.

Framed within was a photograph of four people. Among them was an old woman that appeared to be the head of the household. Standing on either side of her was a middle-aged man and woman.

And there was one more person. A young girl of around middle school age stood with a bashful smile. One had no way to tell when this photo had been taken, but from the background behind them, it might have been taken at this living room.

This photo could’ve been shot when the family who had lived separately had come home for a New Year's visit. But as Yakumo had said, they might need to investigate the familial connections once more. Yakumo returned the picture frame to its original placement, stepping outside the living room before opening the door to the room across from it.

Unlike the previous room, the room they stepped into this time was a Japanese-style room about eight tatami in size. The room might have been unused when the owner had used to live here; not a single object was left inside.

Yakumo might’ve judged that nothing of note was there as he immediately exited and walked straight across the corridor. At the end of this corridor should be the room where Ishii had seen a ghost.

Gotou’s body naturally tensed up at the thought, and his palms began to sweat. He thought he had grown used to these things. Yet perhaps he felt terrible because he had sensed something unusual from the gloomy atmosphere of this house.

Unlike Gotou, Yakumo maintained a nonchalant look on his face and opened the door without hesitation. The room beyond the door was covered in carpet. At the centre of the room was a hospital bed, with medical equipment next to it.

There was also a wheelchair on the other side of the bed. Everything was covered in dust after having been abandoned for a long time.

Yakumo approached the side of the bed and stroked the rails of the bed, as if confirming something. Next, he moved on to the bookshelves on one side of the room walls. Rows of books were neatly arranged there.

Yakumo traced the spines of those books with his fingers, starting from the top. Gotou too began tracing the spines with his eyes. Not a novel or essay in sight, all were fairly difficult technical books.

Crouching, and having traced the spines until the lowermost row of books, Yakumo stood up, scratching his head in frustration. He likely hadn’t found anything of importance. Yakumo was about to head for the window next, when he halted his steps midway as if he found something.

“What is it?” Paying no attention to Gotou, Yakumo crawled on the floor and took out a single book from underneath the bed.

“What book is it?” asked Gotou. Yakumo stood back up and shook his head whilst flipping over the pages. “This isn’t a book.”

“Not a book?" “Yes. I believe this is some kind of schedule notebook.”

Gotou had thought it was an antique book since the cover was made of leather, but after seeing its pages, it indeed contained handwriting. If Gotou were to attempt using a schedule notebook, he’d certainly give up within three days. Yet the person who had used this notebook seemed rather diligent.

This person’s neat penmanship filled the pages of said book. “Does it have something to do with the case?” asked Gotou.

Yakumo’s face was that of extreme displeasure. “I don’t know. We have to read it to know for certain,” he said in an uninterested tone. His reaction couldn’t be helped. Gotou might have overly rushed into things.

Suddenly, Yakumo turned in the direction of the doorway. He seemed to have sensed something. Gotou turned to face the same direction.

Nothing came into Gotou’s field of vision, save for the dark corridors ahead. But Yakumo was different. Yakumo, in possession of his red left eye, should be able to see a different world that Gotou couldn’t. “You are…” muttered Yakumo.

So someone was at the doorway after all. Gotou grew curious, but he shouldn’t act rashly and let this opportunity become a waste. Holding his breath, Gotou watched over the situation.

“Why are you here? Just what are you...” Cutting off his sentence, Yakumo placed his hand on his head, exhaling a long sigh. After a pause, Gotou asked, “Was someone there just now?”

“Yes. She must be the one Ishii-san saw.” “Was the ghost a young girl?”

“Yes.” “Don’t tell me it was the girl from the photo earlier?” Gotou asked, following his thoughts.

Yakumo frowned and gave a faint nod. “It appears we really need to get Ishii-san to investigate this house one more time,” Yakumo narrowed his eyes as he stared in the direction of the doorway.

- 9

- Should the depths of love be measurable, it’ll surely amount to the price one is willing to pay in the name of that love—

Love can only be proven by what one can sacrifice for the sake of acquiring said subject of affection. Be it wealth, or one’s own life. Or perhaps something else entirely—

I’m prepared to offer up my life. And it doesn’t end there. I shall return the life I’ve lived thus far in its entirety, back into nothingness. If anyone were to criticise my actions, I’d like you to ask yourself.

What are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of your loved ones? Anyone who can still bring up societal norms, common sense, morality, and such ideals over this question, can’t be said to have genuine love.

Yakumo lifted his face from the leather-bound book and looked up the narrow ceiling— The lines written in this book were incredibly powerful. Not merely because it had been written with bold pen pressure and stiff letters. Something else seemed to play a part.

It was unclear what the writer of this passage had intended to do. Still, the strength of their emotions were far from normal. Just what is it?

What exactly did the writer sacrifice, and what was acquired in return? Besides, did this notebook have anything to do with the ongoing cases?

Yakumo felt something was amiss as the lines within this book implied within them too deep of a meaning. Yet, perhaps they bore no connection to the case. Nanase Miyuki might have intentionally left them behind as a red herring to throw off Yakumo.

He looked out the window. It was getting brighter out, and soon morning will arrive.

Time felt like it was marching awfully fast. It had to be because Yakumo himself had grown restless. Right now, at this second, she—just what state was Haruka in? The mere contemplation sent his chest into chaos.

Yakumo knew he had to maintain his composure, yet terrible visions kept invading his thoughts in droves, taking over his headspace. In fact, it was happening right now.

The sight of Haruka, lying whilst blood poured out her body, crossed into his mind. Even with desperate efforts to get rid of the image, he felt it grew further the more he tried to push it away.

Yakumo landed a fist against the table. The pain on his hand spread, yet the terrible visual wouldn’t leave his head.

If only I had accompanied her home back then. Since learning about Haruka’s abduction, he’d been blaming himself constantly.

Truth was, even if Yakumo had accompanied Haruka back, Haruka would still get abducted at some point. This case was unlike an accident lacking in intent. Haruka had already been targeted. Even if Yakumo had been with her at the time, that fact would merely change the time of abduction.

Still— Nevertheless, such arguments brought upon a sense of dissatisfaction.

Yakumo held his lowered head. Whatever happens, I have to save Haruka.

For that sake, he needed to regain his composure and solve the mystery. He understood just how important it was to be level-headed at this time. Despite that, his heart refused to calm down. Can the mystery truly be solved by doing all this?

Besides, solving the mystery like this may very well be meaningless. It’s entirely possible that Haruka had already passed, while Yakumo had been trying to fight back without knowing the fact. Then, Miyuki Nanase might be pleased to imagine Yakumo in such a state. It wouldn’t be strange for that woman to take pleasure in doing so.

Oh no. His mind was being drawn into negative thoughts again. Yakumo yanked at his dishevelled head of hair, then gave himself a slap to the cheek to pull himself together.

Let’s rethink everything from the beginning. Everything started when the ghost of a woman had come to visit Yakumo. Followed by the spiritual case brought by Makoto—

When they had gone to investigate the case, they had discovered a headless corpse that had been stored in a box. When he had contacted Ishii to seek confirmation, apparently Hata had thought that the corpse’s identity could be the man who had red eyes and was Yakumo’s father—Unkai.

They had to wait for the DNA test results, but the possibility was fairly significant. Still, if that were the case, why had the corpse been abandoned in an isolated place, not to mention had been put into a box?

Actually, had the corpse really been abandoned? The corpse had been inside an old casket made out of metal, not to mention plastered with countless talismans. There might be a meaning behind that.

The problems didn’t end there. The ghost Ishii had seen. Earlier, Yakumo had gone to the house in question, and there had in fact been a ghost of a girl there.

As she had disappeared immediately, Yakumo had no idea why the girl had been wandering, and why she had passed. He had requested Ishii to look into it, so he would surely know something once the investigation results came out.

Of course, the notebook found at the house couldn’t be ignored either. Considering the passage that was deep in meaning, this notebook should have some ties to the case. Not to mention the spiritual case Gotou and Eishin had been investigating about the ghost of a drenched girl—

At a glance the cases appear to be unrelated, but they have some sort of connection. That had to be the mystery Nanase Miyuki had meant. However—what if he was mistaken?

What if the cases were in fact completely separate? This might just be a trap laid by Nanase Miyuki to confuse Yakumo. If so, that meant he was wasting his time and everything might have been too late.

The image of Haruka in a tragic state flashed in Yakumo’s mind yet again. I have to do something!

His heart grew all the more restless the more he fixated on the thought. Calm down. This was like walking on a tightrope. No other path aside from going forward one step at a time, steadily and carefully. What are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of your loved ones?

A line written in that notebook crossed his thoughts. Just what was he about to sacrifice in exchange for Haruka?

- 10

- Ishii, who had been sleeping with his head on his desk, was awakened by the ringing of his phone—

He felt around for his glasses and picked up the call after putting them on. “Yes. Ishii Yuutarou here.”

<Sorry for contacting you so early. This is Yakumo.> Yakumo’s voice from the other side of the call instantly shot his consciousness awake from its prior half-asleep state.

Ishii turned to the clock next to his desk. It was nearly six o’clock. He seemed to have fallen asleep for about thirty minutes.

On the desk across from him was a snoring Miyagawa, sitting on the chair with his legs outstretched. Yakumo must be calling because he wanted the results of the investigation he had requested for last night.

“About that matter, right?” Ishii replied as he pulled a notebook lying nearby. “Yes.”

“Because of the timing, I couldn’t really ask around…” Yakumo had requested the investigation when it was already late into the night. Ishii had wanted to gather information by asking neighbourhood locals, but since it was late, he could only reexamine documents. Not a task that demanded him to travel about, yet the job had been draining regardless.

<That is fine. Did you find something?> “Yes. I was able to discover a few facts—” Ishii took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes before taking another look at his notebook.

“Regarding that house, as Yakumo-shi said, apparently she used to live with her family.” <I see.>

Before he had gone to investigate that house for the first time with Miyagawa, he had gathered a bit of information and had learned that an old woman named Kawakami Harue had lived alone there, but that had been the most updated information. However, when he had taken a look at the police contact form[2] issued three years ago, Ishii had come to know that Harue had used to live with her family.

“The people who used to live there with her were her own son, Kawakami Kei-shi, and his wife, Ryoko-san. And lastly, her granddaughter Satomi-chan. Four people in total.” <Do you know where that family of hers is as of now?> asked Yakumo.

Even so, his tone sounded like he could already predict the answer. Prior to investigating, Ishii too had had a hunch himself, and it had turned out to be correct.

“Three years ago, the car that Ryoko-san and Satomi-chan rode got into an accident.” <An accident—>

“Yes. A truck driven by someone under the influence had run against traffic and hit their car head on.” <How cruel...>

Though he didn’t utter a word, Ishii felt the same way. Not only had the driver been driving whilst drunk, the truck had gone in the wrong direction; practically no different from a murder. The truck driver might have been prosecuted with the charge of careless driving causing death and was currently held in prison, but the lives that had been lost could never be brought back.

Ishii swallowed his anger before continuing, “Ryoko-san, who was in the driver seat, died on the scene. While Satomi-chan who rode in the front passenger seat was saved at first, but was eventually declared brain dead—” <Brain dead...>

Yakumo’s tone shifted. Perhaps he was reminded of his uncle, Isshin. Isshin too had been declared brain dead after being involved in a case.

Yakumo must have painfully understood what brain death was like. Following a brief pause, Yakumo asked, <How is Satomi-chan now?>

“She’s already passed,” Ishii spoke as pain emerged in his chest. Brain death would render the patient unable to breathe on their own, and whilst uncomfortable to say, their hearts were merely able to continue beating through borrowing the assistance of various medical equipment.

Forget eating, they couldn’t speak, hear, or see either. The brain as their body’s centre of control stopped working, so they couldn’t so much as think. Having learned all this information, Ishii came to understand the identity of the ghost he had seen.

Likely, the ghost had been the granddaughter, Satomi. Though her life had been saved from the accident, she had become brain dead afterwards, and had left this world from the incurable state.

Satomi might have yet to understand that she was already dead. For that reason, she wandered around the house she had been raised in; such had to be the case. At the time, she must have not called out to Ishii with the intention of scaring him.

Ishii felt guilty for having screamed and running away. Still, there wouldn’t be anything he could do even if he had stayed back there. <I see… do you know what became of Satomi-chan’s father now?>

“About that...” Ishii grew hesitant. Normally, the police wouldn’t have known of the aftermath, yet unexpectedly a record had been left behind.

<Did something happen?> “Yes. Actually, three months following the accident, he disappeared.”

<Disappeared?> “Yes, as Harue-san submitted a missing person’s report to the police.”

One couldn't help but say how puzzling the situation was. <Did the police conduct a search?>

“No, about that… according to information from Harue-san, Satomi’s father had left her a message that he will be going away for a while, no need to worry about him.” “Is that so...” muttered Yakumo, seemingly having predicted the gist of that explanation.

The message Kei had left for Harue could be interpreted as his farewell to a relative. In other words, he had disappeared out of his own will. So long as a criminal case wasn’t involved, police wouldn’t conduct a large-scale search over a missing persons case such as this.

Often, there were cases where someone who grew tired of their present life would disappear to escape. Those people often end up becoming homeless. All the more those plagued by hopelessness such as Kei. The police must have had that idea, so the case had ended by merely filing him as a missing person.

<I understand. Sorry for the trouble, but can I take a look at the detailed documents?> In regular circumstances, showing police documents to a civilian university student would’ve been inappropriate.

However, it was too late for that now. They had received countless assistance from Yakumo to resolve cases.

Furthermore, this time Haruka’s life was on the line. “Of course.”

<Thank you.> Considering this was Yakumo, it was unusual for him to immediately express genuine gratitude.

After all, Ishii didn’t feel like he needed to thank him as Yakumo wasn’t the only one who wanted to rescue Haruka. Haruka’s existence was important to Ishii as well. He wished to save her whatever sacrifice it may take.

Ishii was about to end the call when Yakumo called out to stop him. <Actually, I have one more request...>

“What is it? I’ll do anything as long as I’m able to.” After jotting down instructions from Yakumo into his notebook, Ishii finally ended the call.

<So much ruckus this early,> The voice that spoke was Miyagawa. Although he’d been snoring loudly across from Ishii earlier, Ishii’s phone call seemed to have awakened him.

“S-sorry.” “Well, whatever. What are we looking into next?” said Miyagawa, his figure looking dependable as he stood up.

- 11

- Makoto opened the door to the Movie Research Circle with force.

The owner of this room, Yakumo, was sitting in his usual chair. His eyes were a little red from exhaustion and lack of sleep, but he didn’t appear shaken. It made Makoto’s state of panic feel almost laughable.

No, that wasn’t it. Perhaps right now Yakumo was merely pretending to be calm, when in reality unimaginable turmoil stirred within him.

“Is it true that Haruka-chan was abducted?” asked Makoto to start, after exchanging basic greetings. “Yes. Unfortunately,” replied Yakumo.

Strength left Makoto’s body and dizziness came over her. “I see...” she mumbled before sitting on a chair in front of Yakumo. 

She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted someone to tell her it had merely been a lie. Yet she was hit by the realisation that it was all a baseless wish. “Why Haruka-chan…” she said unbearably.

Truth was, her initial impression towards Haruka hadn’t been all too great. She had seemed like a well-natured university student you’d find anywhere, putting up a facade for herself. Thinking about it now, the feeling might have come from Makoto’s jealousy over Haruka’s naivety.

Like an unreasonable hate towards the class honour student, it had to be the manifestation of jealousy towards someone who possessed something they didn’t. Yet after getting to know Haruka, Makoto’s view of her began changing.

Haruka hadn’t been pretending to be a goody two shoes, nor had she been acting innocent. She hadn’t been trying to flatter people either. It had simply been part of her nature.

Something that was brought upon naturally, like a spring water source free from impurities. It was thanks to that existence of hers, that Yakumo’s heart, having constantly hated himself, could be saved.

There was no reason for Haruka to go through something like this. “Simple enough reason. That woman wanted me to experience despair,” Yakumo explained. In his red left eye appeared to reside a powerful light.

“Such a thing…” Makoto bit down hard on her lip. The woman Yakumo had referred to was Nanase Miyuki. Come to think of it, in the previous case she had indeed signalled that Haruka would be her next target.

Nanase Miyuki was the sort of person who could trample over others’ hearts without breaking a sweat. Rather, her sadistic tendencies would in fact make her enjoy doing so. It was likely that she had abducted Haruka, the most important person to Yakumo, for the sake of cornering him.

If only they had paid closer attention to her words, they wouldn’t have left Haruka by herself. Still, regret wouldn’t change the reality they were facing.

Furthermore, the regret Yakumo experienced must be far greater than Makoto’s. The last person who had been with Haruka last night was Yakumo. He had to be blaming himself for leaving Haruka alone. “Whatever happens, we have to find her before it's too late,” said Yakumo, gritting his teeth.

Yakumo must be capable of maintaining his composure thanks to his strong resolve to save Haruka. Yakumo was able to motivate himself, overcoming all the depressing feelings and regret in order to face forward.

However— What would happen to Yakumo if he were to actually lose Haruka?

It wasn’t enough to describe them like lovers. Their existence was like soulmates, bonded together on a deeper level. To Yakumo, losing Haruka must be equivalent to having half of his body ripped away from him.

Should that happen, would Yakumo be able to retain his sanity?  Perhaps that was precisely Nanase Miyuki’s objective.

If that was the case, perhaps Haruka was already—no. She shouldn’t think about that now. “Is there something I can help with?” said Makoto.

Yakumo responded with a small nod. “Actually, I’ve called you as there’s something I needed your help for, Makoto-san.” “Just say the word. I’ll do anything that I can.”

At any rate, they needed to make a move now. “Thank you. Firstly, can I meet with the woman who claimed to have experienced a spiritual phenomenon at the warehouse?”

“Hold on,” Makoto interrupted. “Shouldn’t locating Haruka-chan be our priority?” The spiritual case did concern her, but now wasn’t the time to look into that matter.

“That woman told me she would die if I fail to solve the mystery. By that, I think she meant for me to resolve the spiritual cases before my eyes.” “But why such a thing...”

“She said this is a game.” I see.

It was entirely plausible for Nanase Miyuki to pull something like this. She must have gone through the trouble of setting up this game out of her incredible sense of rivalry towards Yakumo. “Alright. I’ll quickly contact them and arrange a meeting,” Makoto nodded.

If so, they had to solve this case as soon as possible. “Also, I’d like you to look into whether there had been similar phenomena at that location.”

“Leave it to me.” Gathering rumours may not be easy, but by utilising social media well, she should be able to gain some information.

“Thank you,” Yakumo bowed his head deeply. He shouldn’t need to thank her. Even if Yakumo hadn’t asked for help, Makoto would still put her own efforts to find out Haruka’s location.

Yakumo wasn’t the only one who treasured Haruka. “Just like you, Haruka-chan’s important to us as well. Doing all this is a given.”

Yakumo was surprised by Makoto’s words, but eventually smiled bashfully. The door suddenly opened with a bam and Gotou entered the room. “Oh. It’s the newspaper lady,” he said as he took notice of Makoto.

“We just met yesterday, didn’t we?” “You’re helping out too?”

“Of course. I want to save Haruka-chan, whatever it takes.” “Thank you.” Gotou bowed his head deeply.

From his conduct, Gotou also seemed to be doing what he could in the search for Haruka. Even though his injuries hadn’t fully healed, he was surely unable to stand around doing nothing. The same as Makoto, Gotou was desperately putting his efforts not solely because of Yakumo’s request for help.

He wanted to save Haruka and help Yakumo out of his own volition. “Oi, Yakumo. The preparations are done. Let’s hurry up and go,” Gotou, signalling at Yakumo with his hand.

The two seemed to be heading somewhere to investigate. “I’ll contact you once I’ve made an arrangement,” Makoto stood up before leaving the room.

Yakumo followed outside and bowed down as he said, “I’ll leave it to you,” before walking away with Gotou. It’s alright. We’ll find her for sure, Makoto said in her heart as she sent the two off.

Though baseless, she wouldn’t be able to press forward without believing so. -

12 -

Gotou went into the driver seat of the car parked in front of the campus gates. Upon opening the door to the front passenger seat, Yakumo made a doubtful expression. “Gotou-san, what happened to your cast?” he asked.

Yakumo, who was incredibly perceptive in normal circumstances, had only realised that Gotou wasn’t wearing his cast—he must be more exhausted than he appeared. “It was getting in the way, so I took it off,” Gotou said so blatantly.

He had forcefully taken it off the night before. He wouldn’t be able to run wearing a cast and a crutch; let alone drive.

He had thought his wife Atsuko would stop him, but after explaining the situation, she had helped him remove it instead. Likewise, Atsuko must be deeply worried about Haruka. Of course, the same could be said for Nao. Haruka’s existence was already like family to them.

“Will you be able to drive in such a state?” Yakumo threw an unconvinced look. “Because it’s fine, I managed to come all the way here, didn’t I? Cut the small talk and hop on quick,”

It would be a lie to say that it didn’t hurt. Nevertheless, right now they had no time to lose in the slightest. If they always had to call a taxi to get around, they would be wasting their time.  As he had worded out the previous night, Gotou didn’t mind sacrificing a leg or two for the sake of saving Haruka.

Yakumo let out a sigh of disbelief before getting into the front passenger seat. With the closing of the door, Gotou then started the car.

“So, any new information?” he asked Yakumo as he manipulated the steering wheel. “Thanks to Ishii-san, I gained plenty of information about the house we went to last night.”

“Which are?” Gotou demanded the continuation, and Yakumo shared the information he had gotten from Ishii in detail. Gotou’s feelings grew unbearable. Having lost his wife in a traffic accident, and his daughter having been declared brain dead, Kei had to be suffering greatly.

As if without warning, the man had suddenly been pushed into hell’s abyss. At the thought of the same thing happening to Atsuko and Nao, Gotou’s chest felt like it was being crushed and his breathing grew laboured.

And yet, Kei, who had actually gone through it, had to be suffering pain a hundredfold worse. “So the father’s—Kei’s—status became unknown afterwards, huh?” Gotou asked, and Yakumo gave a nodding affirmation.

“Could that man who's in hiding be the perpetrator behind our case?” A thought with no basis. Gotou was merely voicing the question that suddenly came to mind.

“I can’t refute that possibility,” Yakumo responded with a serious expression. “Really?!” Although it was his own line of thinking, he exclaimed in surprise as Yakumo gave his approval over it.

“It’s nothing more than a possibility…” He might be vague and would go about in circles, but unlike Gotou, Yakumo had a basis for every statement, even when expressing possibilities.

“What possibility were you referring to?” “The notebook we found back there.”

“Notebook... ” Indeed, Yakumo had taken out a notebook from under the bed back in that place.

“What was written in it?” “Mostly it was an activity schedule. Related to his work, or what time he was meeting someone; fairly normal entries. But—”

“What?” “The writing stopped after his wife and daughter went into an accident—”

Gotou understood what the man had felt. Working, or doing anything at all for that matter, had to be impossible after the man’s family had had an accident.

But that shouldn’t be everything that was inside said notebook. Something had to be written there that led Yakumo to consider the possibility of Kei being the perpetrator. “And then?” asked Gotou.

Yakumo crossed his arms and closed his eyes shut. As if deep in thought, he stopped moving for a moment. Before long, the man slowly opened his eyes.

“Something strange was written on the last page.” “What is it?”

“Some sort of declaration of resolve.” “What even is that?”

“What are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of your loved ones?” “Ha?” Gotou tilted his head in confusion.

“That was one of the lines written in there.” “What’s that even mean?”

“Probably in a literal sense. I think the phrase ‘loved ones’ here refers to his wife and daughter.” “Then, what’s the sacrifice about?” asked Gotou.

Yakumo shook his head. “I have no clue either.” “No clue...”

Something that was beyond Yakumo’s understanding was all the more puzzling for Gotou. Just why would he leave behind a sentence like that? And why had that man called Kei hidden his whereabouts?

He might not understand, but Gotou sensed a deep darkness extending ahead of that fact. “If it were Gotou-san...” Yakumo glanced slightly at Gotou.

“Ah?” “If it were Gotou-san, what would you sacrifice for your loved ones?”

At the sudden question, Gotou was incapable of giving an immediate reply. To be honest, he had no way of knowing before encountering said predicament.

In the previous case, Gotou had jumped into a road to shield Nao who had been about to get hit by a car. Yet at the time he had lost his reason and hadn’t thought of whether he was going to sacrifice his own life or the like.

Thinking about it calmly, he unexpectedly didn’t arrive at the answer. “I think this Kei person had prepared himself to throw away everything for the people he loved. Hence the reason why he had left that passage behind,” said Yakumo with a sullen voice.

His eyes weren’t present; as if they were drifting off somewhere in the distance. Yakumo seemed like he might go off somewhere beyond reach, should things be left as they were. “What exactly are you trying to say?” Gotou asked, and Yakumo raised his index finger between his forehead and said, “Do you not understand?”

“I’m asking because I don’t.” “The man called Kei has already lost the people he loved. Yet he still wanted to sacrifice something, even though there’s nothing for him to obtain...” said Yakumo.

His voice was like sharp edges poking at Gotou’s heart. Though faint, Gotou slowly came to see what Yakumo had in mind. Along with the reason why he refused to put it into words—

“Either way, Kei-san disappeared three months after the accident.” “Disappeared?” Gotou raised his voice unknowingly.

“Yes. But according to the statement made by Harue-san, who reported his disappearance, the police isn’t treating it as a case as Kei-san seemed to have gone into hiding on his own will.” Even if he racked his brains for a reason, Gotou was completely clueless as to why Kei would go into hiding. Still, he couldn’t help but sense a whirl of emotions behind it.

What are you willing to sacrifice for the sake of your loved ones? The question itself ended up feeling like some sort of curse.

- 13

- “He truly was a wonderful doctor—” The nurse sitting before him said so in earnest.

She was Satou, a woman in her mid forties, and her appearance as well as the tone in which she carried herself gave her a friendly impression. Yakumo had asked a favour of two things.

The first was to find out about the Kawakami family’s reputation by asking around the neighbourhood. While the other was to gather information on Kawakami Kei at his workplace. Following a discussion with Miyagawa, they had decided to split ways in the absence of time. Miyagawa would gain information around the Kawakami family residence, while Ishii would pay a visit to the hospital where Kawakami had used to work.

Kawakami had used to practise internal medicine. Ishii promptly contacted his former workplace and met with a nurse named Satou, an acquaintance of Kawakami as well as the one who had been in charge of Kawakami’s daughter who had undergone brain death.

Thinking how he was back in this hospital despite only having visited last night, Ishii was left with a peculiar sense of fate. Eeriness overtook him the night before, yet as it was now morning still, along with the fact that he was now at the cafe next to the hospital entrance, made him feel like he was in a completely different location.

“I see,” Ishii muttered as he jotted things down. “There are two kinds of doctors.”

“Is that so?” “Yes. Doctors who examine patients since it is their duty, and doctors who do so out of the desire to serve and help people.”

“And Doctor Kawakami was the latter?” asked Ishii, and Satou replied, “Obviously,” as he had expected. “Honestly, it was tough for us to work under someone like Doctor Kawakami, as the more enthusiastic he got, our workload would pile up even more.”

“What do you mean by that?” “As he would always go out of his way to do things that weren't required to be done, we would get caught in the middle of it as well.”

“Ah.” That might be true.

Not just for doctors, in any line of profession, the mindset of treating customers as kings would inevitably increase the amount of tasks to complete. “The young nurses would often complain as a result. Not for me though, I liked it. Every hospital needs someone like Doctor Kawakami.”

“That’s true,” Ishii responded as he demanded the continuation. “If only that accident didn’t happen… not only did he lose his wife, his daughter was even left in such a state. It was simply too much.”

Ishii could sense that this was no surface-level feelings, but one that genuinely came from the bottom of her heart. “Was he extremely depressed over the fact?”

“Obviously… Doctor Kawakami was a friendly person who would greet everyone, even nurses like us. But ever since the accident, he became less talkative and worn out.” With no wife or children of his own, Ishii could only picture the agony of losing both at the same time.

His heart cried out at the mere thought. Kawakami, to whom it had actually happened, must have suffered beyond imagination. “I felt bad watching him and have always wanted to call out to him first, but honestly, I didn’t know what to say...” Satou sighed, shaking her head.

That was to be expected. Put in the same position, Ishii himself wouldn’t know what to say towards someone in the depths of despair. “After the accident, were there any unusual changes about him?” asked Ishii.

Satou’s expression grew troubled. “Some time after the accident, he kept staying beside his daughter. He seemed to be calling out for his unconscious daughter to come back. But...” Satou halted her words.

She seemed to hesitate in saying what came next. “What is it?” Ishii urged, and after steeling her resolve and nodding, Satou opened her mouth once more. “After his daughter was declared brain dead, his visits became less frequent.”

“Why so?” Ishii leaned over. Thinking about it, to disappear when his daughter had been declared brain dead felt unnatural.

“Though from a different specialty, he was a doctor himself. So he understood well what brain death meant,” So that was it.

Once declared brain dead, chances of recovery were close to zero. That wasn’t all. Since their brain functions were stopped, patients would be unable to sense the presence of those who came to visit.

Being a doctor, Kawakami understood way more than the average person that there was nothing else that could be done. And yet—

Shouldn’t a parent still wish to see the face of their child? Ishii felt something off about the fact.

“I heard Doctor Kawakami disappeared the day before his daughter passed...” Upon investigation, one day after Kawakami had left a message for his mother and disappeared, his daughter’s condition had taken a worse turn, drawing her last breath.

Ishii couldn’t help but think something was behind that timing. “Apparently so. Perhaps he sensed that his daughter couldn’t hang on any longer—”

“Was his daughter’s condition weakening?” “Yes. She was getting worse. The doctor in charge of her even said it was only a matter of days...”

“......” “The doctor in charge seemed to have delivered the news to Doctor Kawakami himself. But a slight commotion happened at the time.”

“A commotion?” “That’s right. Doctor Kawakami claimed that his daughter had spoken. Thus, he requested them to reexamine whether she was actually brain dead. It was the first time I’ve seen Doctor Kawakami that way. Though his mind understood, his heart seemed to have yet to accept how things are…”

“Is that so,” Ishii said out of sympathy, yet the thoughts in his mind travelled elsewhere. The timing felt unnatural. Even so, Ishii didn’t understand what made him feel that way.

“Did anything else catch your attention?” Ishii later inquired, and Satou’s eyes wandered as if tracing her memories. It wasn’t long before her expression changed, signalling that she had recalled something.

“Is there something?” Ishii asked again. “I’m not sure if I should say this...” Satou spoke hesitantly.

“What is it?” “Actually… after the accident, a woman often came to visit Doctor Kawakami.”

“A woman?” “Yes. A young, beautiful woman in her twenties.”

“Any other defining features?” “Right… I wonder. I’ve never spoken to her, so this is merely my intuition, but she seemed quite tough.”

That woman might have something to do with Kawakami’s disappearance. Depending on the circumstances, they could try making a sketch of her face. “Do you know what her relationship was with Doctor Kawakami?”

“As for that, I don’t know. She wasn’t a patient, nor someone from the pharmaceutical companies...” “Sounds curious.”

Could that woman be Kawakami’s mistress? Though baseless, the idea emerged in his mind anyway. “I’m sure the relationship wasn’t anything like what you have in mind, Mr. Detective,” Satou spoke as if she had read Ishii’s mind.

“Eh?” “Doctor Kawakami loved his family dearly. He wasn’t the type to have an affair behind the scenes.”

“Right...” Satou emphasised the fact quite strongly, leaving Ishii no choice but to respond in affirmation. However, his heart disagreed.

That didn’t mean there were no people capable of building a harmonious family whilst having an affair on the side. The woman who had been having an affair with Kawakami might have just made an appearance after the accident.

“Did Doctor Kawakami ever mention anything about that woman?” Ishii asked. Satou’s face frowned into a difficult expression. “The doctor said before that the woman came to consult him about her relative.”

All the more suspicious. At a time when his wife had just passed and his daughter had been in a brain dead state, he shouldn’t have had the time to discuss other people’s matters.

“Um… do you know of anyone else close to Doctor Kawakami in this hospital?” “As for that, perhaps that strange man in the basement.”

“Pardon?” Ishii couldn’t help but turn bewildered at the mention of something that sounded like the title of a B rated horror film.

“My apologies. I suppose you wouldn’t understand if I said it that way,” Satou corrected herself and said the name of the person in question. -

14 -

After leaving Yakumo’s room, Makoto returned to her desk at the newspaper company. There may not be much time, but it was easier to conduct an investigation from her office.

Firstly, she would use the company social media account to announce a request for information regarding the spiritual phenomena that occurred at the warehouse in front of Meisei University’s archival facility. The number of viewers wouldn’t be comparable to using a personal account. There would surely be lots of shares, so information should quickly accumulate. Next, she composed a message of similar content, sending them out to some of her fellow journalist acquaintances.

Whilst anticipating the success of this information gathering, she contacted Maki, who had come to consult a spiritual phenomenon previously. <Hello?>

Maki picked up the call with a frightened voice. Thankfully the call directly went through. “Actually, I’d like to confirm a few things about the spiritual phenomenon you experienced at the warehouse. For the sake of resolving this case, may I ask for your cooperation?”

<You believed me?> asked Maki. Makoto was no stranger to gathering information on spiritual phenomena, and what was most troubling for people who experienced such incidents was the fact that no one was willing to believe them.

“Of course.” <Thank you—>

Maki’s voice quivered. Rather than from fear, it seemed to be out of delight. “Since it’s hard to convey through a phone call, I’d like for us to meet in person once again and talk about it, would that be possible? I have an acquaintance who’s an expert on spiritual phenomena. I want him to come along as well.”

<Well, that is...> Maki’s tone hinted at a sense of vigilance.

As it turned out, the mention of an expert on spiritual phenomena hadn’t been the correct wording. Maki might be assuming she would be demanded to pay a hefty reward. “Rest assured. He’s still young, but he’s been assisting the police in solving various cases so far. He won’t ask you for payment in return, so there’s no need to worry,” Makoto said so firmly, and Maki then replied, <Alright.>

“Then, without further ado, do you have some free time today?” <I don’t have any plans to go out, so any timing works for me.>

“Understood. After confirming with the other party, I’ll reach out to you again.” Makoto ended the conversation and called Yakumo this time.

<Yes. Saitou speaking.> It sounded like he was still on a car ride, as a faint hum of the engine could be heard.

“This is Makoto. I’ve contacted the woman who experienced the spiritual phenomenon. She’s fine with meeting anytime, so we can regroup once you’re finished on your end.” <Thank you. Once we’ve wrapped things up, I’ll contact you.>

“Got it.” Following the end of her call with Yakumo, Makoto returned to face her laptop.

She was looking up spiritual phenomena at Meisei University on the internet. A few results seemed to match. Information pertaining to the corpse that had been found at the university warehouse last night had spread that rumours surrounding the fact were now abundant. From testimonies stating they had seen a ghost onsite, followed by a variety of other claims: that satanic rituals were once performed there; or that the place had really been the base of a religious cult; or how spirits from wartime wandered in the area.

At this rate, the number of people writing out of jest would increase and she would struggle to find reputable information. How troublesome, Makoto thought, right as she received a private message from an unknown sender on social media.

Since Makoto’s request for information had been shared at random, people would likely send in messages as a joke. Keeping her expectations low, she opened the message. Written there was the following: 

<I’m a Meisei University graduate. During my time as a student there, I’ve been to that warehouse for a test of courage. Nothing in particular happened then, but a few days later, my friend who went along the test of courage with me disappeared. That friend’s whereabouts remained unknown to this day—>

Makoto held her breath upon reading it.

It was her own instincts talking, yet she felt that this message was genuine and decided on replying straight away. There were many things she wanted to ask. However, exchanging messages like this would be time consuming.

‘Can we speak directly? Phone call is fine too’ she typed, including her contact number in the message before sending it. It wasn’t long until there was an incoming call from an unknown number to her phone. Probably the sender of that message earlier.

“Yes. This is Hijikata.” <Hello? I was the one who sent a message just now. My name is Nagaoka Momoka.>

So it was the person who had sent that message after all. “Thank you for calling. I will call you back.”

<It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,> Momoka said so firmly. “Is that so… then I’ll get straight to the point, there are a few things I’d like to ask. When did you go to that location?”

<About three years ago.> “You didn’t see any ghosts or the like at the time?”

<That’s right. But...> “What is it?”

<I didn’t see anything back then, but afterwards, a female friend of mine who went with me, Ikuta Tomoko, claimed that she felt like she was being followed by a ghost.> While she hadn’t experienced any spiritual phenomena there, the subsequent turn of events of being followed by a ghost was similar to Maki’s.

“Did she say that she had seen the ghost?” <She did. Apparently the ghost stood outside the window, staring at her.>

“Was she able to tell the gender of the ghost?” <She said it was a male ghost… I didn’t really believe her at the time. I thought she was just mistaken, but...>

Momoka’s tone grew frail in an instant. “Tomoko-san disappeared afterwards...”

<Yes. It was really out of nowhere. She didn’t show up on campus, and her phone was out of reach...> “Have the police been notified?”

<They have. I’ve even submitted a missing persons report, but there was no development afterwards, and time went on...> “And Tomoko-san’s whereabouts are still unknown until now?”

<Yeah. Her parents have passed away and she entered university with a scholarship program. Even though she was such an earnest person...> What followed in exchange of words were sounds of sobbing.

Whether Tomoko’s disappearance had anything to do with ghosts remained vague, yet at the very least, Momoko seemed to be living her life whilst concealing her regret all the while. Even after thanking her and cutting off the call, Makoto was left with a sense of unease.

Perhaps she needed to verify the truth of the matter. Makoto then contacted Ishii. <Yes. This is Ishii Yuutarou,> Ishii promptly answered with a crystal clear voice.

Despite the direness of the situation, hearing Ishii’s voice instantly softened her once hardened heart. “It’s Makoto.”

<M-Makoto-san! Actually, something terrible came up!> Ishii spoke in a panic. “I know. I’ve heard it from Yakumo-kun. Apparently Haruka disappeared, right?”

<You knew?> “Yes. Things really took a worse turn...”

<Right.> Ishii’s voice rapidly sank.

Makoto had long since known that Ishii had feelings for Haruka. Anyone would be able to tell how much Ishii brightened in front of Haruka. He’d been holding back as of late, probably admitting defeat after seeing how there was no place for him to get in between Yakumo and Haruka.

Surely Ishii was also among those working tirelessly for the sake of rescuing Haruka. “Truth is, I wanted to ask you to investigate something in relation to that.”

<What is it?> “Regarding a woman named Ikuta Tomoko-san.”

<Who is that exactly?> It was understandable for Ishii to question the fact.

After a brief explanation of the situation from Makoto, Ishii promised to look into the matter after his return to the police headquarters following the information gathering he currently was in. “Sorry for the trouble. I’ll leave it to you.”

<Of course. Whatever it takes, we have to find Haruka-chan—> “Yes.”

After hanging up, a small question emerged in Makoto’s mind. If Makoto were to disappear, just how desperate would Ishii go in search of her?

Makoto sighed without realising, having had enough of just how narrow-hearted she could be to question that at a time like this. -

15 -

Gotou parked his car in front of the house they were headed to. Stepping out of the car, the figure of a man he recognised came into view, standing before the entrance. It was Eishin.

“You’re finally here. I got tired of waiting,” Eishin said so openly. It might have been a trait of his to not be satisfied without complaining.

“Shut up,” Gotou clicked his tongue when he arrived in front of Eishin. At the sight of Yakumo following behind Gotou, Eishin’s expression stiffened.

“Things certainly have gotten worse,” he said in a friendly tone unlike how he’d spoken to Gotou moments before. Eishin wasn’t closely acquainted with Haruka, but he was well aware of how much her existence meant to Yakumo.

He had to be thoroughly considering what sort of impact this case might bring. “Right. Anyway, can you quickly take me to the girl who experienced a spiritual phenomenon?” Yakumo said in haste.

“I know. I’ve informed them in advance. Let’s go.” Led by Eishin, they headed inside the house, and ascended the stairs next to the entrance towards the room situated on the second floor.

Though he had managed his way on flat surfaces, Gotou’s leg stung as he climbed the stairs. Regardless, there was no time to complain. As Eishin knocked on the door, a voice could be heard from within, “Come in.”

Everyone nodded to one another, and Eishin slowly opened the door. The state of the room was no different from yesterday, with every crevice covered up that it remained in darkness despite the day not being past noon yet.

Standing in one corner of the room, Sana appeared all the more lethargic compared to the day before. It wasn’t surprising, considering she had trouble sleeping out of fear from ghosts.

“I’ll cut to the chase, could you talk about the spiritual phenomenon you experienced one more time?” Yakumo brought up the subject matter after some basic greetings. Yakumo’s red left eye took Sana a little by surprise, but she soon got rid of the impression and opened her mouth. She spoke of how she had seen a drenched ghost on the Tama riverbank, and the way the ghost had drawn nearer to her house day after day.

Her voice was shaky, and she struggled to find her words from time to time. Gotou felt pity at the mere sight of it. “I see… you mentioned that the ghost gets closer and closer every day. Is that the case even now?” Yakumo asked whilst casting his gaze across the room.

Gotou and the rest couldn’t see a thing. But such wasn’t the case for Yakumo. Reflected in that red left eye of his was a world unlike this one. “Yes.”

“Speaking of, since when have you put up these cardboards over your windows?” “Since about four days ago. I’m too scared...” Sana replied, teary eyed.

“You saw the ghost a week ago, is that right?” asked Yakumo to confirm. Sana nodded with a thin voice, “Yes.”

“You said you saw the ghost come closer through the window, which window was it?” “That one.”

Sana pointed at the largest window in her room. “Can I take a look at it?” Yakumo asked, and although Sana nodded, fear made her cover her face with both hands and face away from the window.

Yakumo opened the curtains and pulled apart the tapes and cardboard that had been obscuring the window. Light from outside filled the room, turning it bright.

“Which road did you see the ghost on?” Yakumo asked as he remained fixated on the view outside the window. “The one right in front of my house.”

“Did you see it during a specific time? Such as throughout the day or nighttime...” Sana shook her head at Yakumo’s question. “Day or night, she was always standing on that road whenever I looked out of this room.”

“Were you looking out from where I’m at right now?” Sana set aside the hands that had been covering her face, and after confirming Yakumo’s position, she nodded over and over.

“Yes...” “I see...” Yakumo replied as he opened the window.

Outside breeze blew in. Gotou took a deep breath. The once gloomy atmosphere took a turn and he became slightly relieved. On the other hand, the girl shrank. After all, she must be scared.

After glancing in Sana’s direction, Yakumo exhaled a heavy sigh and leaned his body over to look down the window. What is he looking at?

Following Yakumo, Gotou poked his head out the window and peered downwards. Over there was—

A girl walking along the road directly in front of the house. Aligning with Sana’s testimony, the girl was wearing a uniform. “Not her,” Yakumo said to ease Gotou, who was in shock.

Gotou turned to find Yakumo covering his left eye using his palm. The girl seemed to be visible still just with his right eye, so she must be a living human being. Yakumo sighed and faced Sana's direction again.

“Please be rest assured. The ghost outside won’t be able to enter this room,” Yakumo gently pacified her. “Eh?”

Sana stared at Yakumo. “That ghost was just lonely.”

“R-really?” “Yeah. So there’s no need for you to worry. If you’re still uneasy, you can pour some salt on all four corners of the room. That way, she won’t be able to get in.”

“......” Sana’s expression was overcome with relief and she fell down to her knees listlessly.

Her fear seemed to have disappeared without a trace. “Then, I’ll excuse myself,” Yakumo bowed and walked towards Eishin, whispering something to him before exiting the room.

Though unsatisfied with the way things were, Gotou chased after Yakumo. “What you told that girl, was that true?” he asked once they went in the car.

“It was a lie,” Yakumo said nonchalantly. “What?”

“We wouldn’t have to struggle if ghosts could be sent away by pouring some salt.” “You… in that case, the ghost might just appear in that room, then?”

“There were no ghosts in that room. Of course, same goes for the road in front of that house—” He had probably said something random to close the case since he couldn’t see any ghosts around.

However— “Maybe it just wasn’t there earlier?”

Yakumo himself had often spoken of how ghosts didn’t always stay in the same location. “Please think about it carefully. She was terrified because the ghost got closer to her house day after day.”

“Yeah.” “How could she have known that?”

“How… well, because she witnessed it from her window.” “She had covered all the windows in her room with cardboard. She shouldn’t have been able to look outside.”

“Ah.” Gotou only just understood.

Thinking back, Yakumo had confirmed when the windows had been taped over with cardboard, and the girl had replied that it had been from four days prior. In other words, she hadn’t been able to look out the window since then, making it impossible for her to have seen the ghost.

“Furthermore, if she merely stood in front of the window, she wouldn’t be able to see the road right in front of her house.” Indeed, that was true.

Without poking one’s head out the window and looking down, the road in front wouldn’t be visible. “So she made up the fact that she saw a ghost?”

“No. I think she might have actually seen one at the riverbank. Though, out of immense fear, she began hallucinating that the ghost was getting closer every day. Well, it’s something like a mental disturbance.” I see.

If they had told the frightened Sana that she was merely hallucinating, she wouldn’t believe them. Thus, Yakumo had consoled her by saying that the ghost wouldn’t come after her anymore and instructed her to handle it by sprinkling salt.

He must have conveyed the fact to Eishin before leaving the room earlier— Having understood things, Gotou’s thoughts were led in a different direction.

“So we came here for nothing…?” It was crushing for them to be wasting time while Haruka’s whereabouts were currently unknown like this.

“At the very least we can eliminate it as an unrelated case. Next, we shall regroup with Makoto-san.” “Right,”

No use in regretting now. As Yakumo had said, they could treat it as having eliminated the case out of the way. Without any further thoughts, Gotou started the car.

- 16

- “So you came again—” Hata sounded fed up at the sight of Ishii’s face visiting him.

Such a reaction couldn’t be helped. He had only been last visited by the aforementioned police detective in the dead hours of the night before. Frankly, Ishii had feared that Hata might have already gone home, so he was glad that they were able to meet like this.

“M-my apologies,” Ishii entered Hata’s office whilst wording his apology. “Too bad, but if this is about the autopsy result, as I mentioned last night, I still don’t know myself,” Hata reminded.

Of course, Ishii was aware of the fact. Even he knew the situation wouldn’t change in a matter of hours. “Actually, I’m here for a separate matter...”

“A separate matter? Well, whatever. Don’t just stand there, why don’t you take a seat?” Ishii bowed repeatedly and sat on the nearest chair.

“You’re not with that Takobozu[3] today?” Hata asked whilst turning his head to look around. The takobozu he had referred to was Miyagawa, of course. Even though Hata had dubbed him umibozu the night before. Ishii was briefly confused by the inconsistent nicknaming.

“Yes. He’s currently gathering information elsewhere.” “So, what is this separate matter you wanted to ask?” Hata asked as he sipped his tea.

“Y-yes. I’d like to ask you about someone...” “Who?”

“Do you know of a Kawakami Kei?” When Ishii spoke of the name, Hata’s bulging eyes flickered. He looked astonished at the sudden mention of it.

Even so, Ishii himself had been surprised upon hearing Hata’s name come up as the name of the strange man in the basement who had been close acquaintances with Kawakami, according to Satou. “Why are you suddenly asking about Kawakami-kun?”

It was no surprise for Hata to question the fact. Ishii then explained how the spiritual phenomenon at Kawakami’s residence might be connected to a string of cases, including the corpse discovery by Yakumo and the others.

“I see—” Hata nodded after hearing the story to finish, lost in feelings. “Kawakami-kun was a truly diligent man...” Hata narrowed his eyes as if reminiscing the past.

“Were the two of you close?” “Since I’m like this, there was lots of prejudice from other doctors. They’d mock me behind my back, calling me a demon and such.”

Whatever it was that Hata found amusing, he giggled an eerie sounding laughter. Ishii felt it was natural for others to not be fond of Hata when he behaved like this, but he didn’t put it into words.

“Kawakami-kun was the only one who didn’t act that way.” “I see...”

“He might be diligent, but Kawakami-kun himself was a peculiar man.” “Peculiar how?”

“When you become a doctor, you’ll bear witness to human mortality until you get sick of it. Even my job is to handle death itself. Anyway, in such an environment, you eventually get used to death.” “It’s possible to get used to such a thing?” Ishii expressed his doubt. He felt like death was an exceptional occurrence no matter what.

“It’s possible. You guys too have seen more deaths than those working in other fields, do you not? And you get used to them before you know it,” “Oh...”

Thinking back, Ishii had screamed and made a fuss when he had seen a corpse for the first time. Yet he could endure it now. He had built up a resistance. In other words, he might have gotten used to it.

“Being used to it is terrifying. Left the way it is, we could just become indifferent to death.” “Right,”

“But Kawakami-kun was different. He often came over to my place whenever his patient passed away.” “Why so?”

“Who knows. It’s just that I often had discussions on the topic of death with Kawakami-kun.” “On the topic of death?”

They hadn’t been taking enjoyment in discussions about movies or music, but had instead discussed death as a conversation subject, something Ishii didn’t view as appropriate. Ishii stated the fact, and Hata shook his head in disbelief.

“What’s not appropriate about it? Humans, no matter who they are, will die eventually. Yet no human can explain what death would actually be like.” “Aren’t doctors capable of explaining that?”

“When it comes to the death of the flesh, sure. But humans have spirits. Even if there’s no way to prove its existence, spirits indeed exist. Since you guys are with Yakumo-kun a lot, you should know that.” “I suppose so—”

Like Hata said, death of the flesh was simple enough. Add spirits into the equation, though, and he was entirely clueless. If the spirit continued to exist despite the physical body ceasing its function, then what was death exactly? He hadn’t been thinking about it too deeply thus far, but being asked like this made him realise the complexity of the subject matter.

If there ever was someone capable of proving it, it must be people like Yakumo who could see ghosts. No, perhaps, Yakumo already knew the answer to it.

Come to think of it, Hata had been curious about the structure of Yakumo’s red left eye since way back. That curiosity might have stemmed from his extraordinary interest towards death. “Our conversation got sidetracked,” Hata mocked himself, scratching at his cheek.

Indeed, their conversation had gone off course into the views surrounding death for quite some time. “Could you tell me what Kawakami-sensei was like in the days leading to his disappearance?” Ishii returned to the main topic at hand. 

It was what he had wanted to ask Hata the most. Perhaps the answer could serve as a clue to the reason behind Kawakami’s disappearance and his whereabouts. “You’ve heard about Kawakami-kun’s wife and daughter, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” “Since that incident, Kawakami-kun’s condition indeed became strange.”

“Strange in what way exactly?” “He began thinking about death more seriously. Especially pertaining to his daughter’s condition.”

“If I’m not mistaken, his daughter was declared brain dead...” “That’s right. Humans in a brain dead state can’t move or speak out of their own will. Without relying on medical equipment, they can’t even so much as breathe.”

“Right.” Ishii understood the fact as such had been the case for Isshin as well.

“But medically, they’re still alive. Even so, can we truly consider a human who can no longer move or even think for themselves as being ‘alive’?” “Well...”

“If spirits do exist, then where are the spirits of people who are brain dead?” “......”

“Because of his daughter’s condition, Kawakami began mulling over such matters more than before.” “And then he disappeared…”

“Pretty much. Though there’s one thing I can’t wrap my mind on,” Hata looked sharply at Ishii. “What is it?”

“One day after Kawakami-kun disappeared off somewhere, his daughter drew her final breath—” “Right.”

“Which meant when Kawakami-kun disappeared, he left behind his daughter in a brain dead state. However I thought about it, this feels off to me.” Hata’s words felt heavy.

The odd feeling that had been bothering Ishii since hearing Satou’s story earlier now led him to a certain deduction. Perhaps Kawakami hadn’t hidden himself and left his daughter in her brain dead condition. Instead, he had punished himself by disappearing as he had been the one who ended his daughter’s life.

The time difference might just be from killing his daughter by administering medication. However, Ishii couldn’t utter that analysis out loud.

- 17

- Right as Makoto arrived at Maki’s apartment building, a car slid to a stop.

Exiting the car were Yakumo and Gotou. How’s the investigation going?

Makoto swallowed the question she wanted to ask. The two looked visibly more distressed compared to when they had met this morning. Even without asking, Makoto could tell that the investigation didn’t go the way they had hoped.

“Let’s hurry up and go,” Gotou wanted to get inside straight away, but Makoto prevented him. “Actually, one testimony caught my attention when I was looking into spiritual phenomena at that location,” Makoto prefaced, followed by a brief explanation of a similar case in the past and how the woman who had claimed to be followed by a ghost after the fact had been reported missing.

“Did something like that really happen?” said Gotou while feeling uncertain. There was no helping his reaction. Makoto herself held a similar doubt.

The reason being the theory Yakumo had mentioned many times. Ghosts were clusters of emotions of those who had passed, bearing no physical influence of their own. Following that theory, it’d be impossible for someone to be dragged away by a ghost as seen in horror movies.

And yet— “The ghost may not be able to do something directly, but if we were to assume that the figure mistaken to be a ghost was actually a human, something like that might just happen.”

That was Makoto’s line of thought. Tomoko, who disappeared, had seen something at the location of the spiritual phenomenon, and someone who had somehow felt the situation was less than ideal had her kidnapped—an entirely plausible scenario.

After all, they had discovered a corpse packed into a box at that warehouse. And now, Maki was experiencing something similar to Tomoko. There might have been something they weren’t supposed to find out at that location.

Haruka might have been kidnapped for the very same reason. “A very intriguing story,” Yakumo placed a hand over his angular chin.

“I thought it needed some supporting evidence, so I asked Ishii-san to confirm whether there had really been a missing persons report filed to the police.” Makoto added. “As expected of Makoto-san. You’re helping me by acting so quickly,” Yakumo nodded.

“But does that old case really have something to do with all this? If it turned out like just now...” “To know that for certain, let us go,” Yakumo interrupted Gotou’s expression of doubt.

Makoto agreed with Yakumo’s perspective. There were various things that concerned them, but firstly they needed to meet with the related parties. “Got it. Let’s go.”

Makoto led them through the apartment building entrance and pressed the buttons for Maki’s apartment number. “Come in,” A voice could then be heard, and the automatic door lock opened.

They went past the automatic door into the elevator, and ascended to the fourth floor where Maki’s apartment unit was located. Upon reaching the door to the apartment unit, Makoto pressed on the intercom.

The door instantly opened, and Maki came out. Makoto briefly introduced Yakumo and Gotou. Since she had mentioned she was coming with experts on spiritual phenomena, Maki readily accepted them.

“Over here—” They were ushered into the apartment.

The unit consisted of a kitchen and a bedroom typical of a one person apartment. The room was filled with feminine looking items carefully placed and arranged. Maki’s personality was well-conveyed through her room.

Yakumo stepped inside and immediately looked around with a sharp glint in his eyes. Makoto tensed at the sight of him. If Maki had in fact been followed by a ghost as she had claimed, Yakumo’s red left eye should be able to see it.

It was of no exaggeration to say that the credibility of Maki’s testimony was currently being measured. “About the spiritual phenomenon you experienced, what was it like exactly?” Yakumo asked without changing his expression.

At the suddenness of it, Maki was left agape, not realising that the question had been directed at her. “I heard you’re being followed by a ghost. Did you see its figure? Or perhaps you didn’t, yet you sense its presence?” Yakumo asked again, now staring at Maki.

“Erm… I did see the ghost. But it had a black, shadow-like appearance...” Maki spoke with a stiff expression. She might have been frightened by Yakumo’s red left eye.

It was perhaps inevitable, as the ghost she had seen at the warehouse also had two red eyes. Understandably, she might have drawn a connection between it and Yakumo’s red left eye. “On what occasions did you see that ghost?”

“On the streets when I’m heading home from class, or when I looked out the window, he was standing across the road below...” Hearing Maki’s explanation, Yakumo slowly walked towards the window.

“Have you ever seen the ghost here indoors?” asked Yakumo. Maki’s gaze drifted as if deep in thought. “No. I don’t think I’ve seen it inside before.”

“In that case, I’d like to confirm what happened at the warehouse.” “Yes.”

“You and your friends opened the box there, didn’t you?” Maki replied to Yakumo’s question with a nod. “We did open it.”

“And you didn’t see the contents at the time?” “Yeah, since it was dark. Besides, that man suddenly appeared in the darkness...” Maki said with a trembling voice, turning her face away from Yakumo.

Indeed, the sight of red eyes was seared into her mind as something terrifying.  “Please tell me in detail about the man you saw there.”

Perhaps in an attempt to soothe Maki, Yakumo spoke in an incredibly gentle tone. “Okay.”

“I heard the eyes of the man who appeared before you were red just like my left eye, are you certain of it?” Maki took one look at Yakumo and turned away before giving an affirmative reply. “Yes.”

“Is the shadow following you the same as the man at the warehouse?” “I think so...”

“Alright. One more thing.” “Yes.”

“Your other friends who went to the warehouse with you saw the man with red eyes too, right?” “That’s right.”

“Is no one else being followed by a ghost?” “I think I’m the only one,” Maki replied faintly.

She was gradually doubting what she had really seen. Such was the impression Makoto had. It was an inevitable outcome, though. At times, memories would fade even more the more it got questioned.

“Your information has been helpful. Thank you,” Yakumo then turned away from Maki. “Um, so, what should I do…?” Maki said in a pleading voice.

“Makoto-san, Gotou-san, one moment?” Yakumo called out looking at them, leaving the room shortly after. Makoto and Gotou exchanged glances and followed Yakumo out of Maki’s apartment.

With the door now closed and their eyes meeting in the halls outside, Yakumo spoke in a low voice, “No ghost is following her, and there was nothing of the sort inside her room either.” “So she was just mistaken?” asked Makoto, who had somewhat guessed it from Yakumo’s reaction back in the room.

“I can’t say that either. Since it’s just a matter of nothing’s there right now.” Certainly, that was true.

It would be too risky to write everything off as a false alarm solely from the fact that the ghost wasn’t present at this point in time. Ghosts didn’t always stick around the same spot. “Still, something’s bothering me a bit,” Yakumo placed his index finger between his forehead.

“What is?” “Suppose she was telling the truth, why was she the only one affected by it when there were others on the scene? Well, it could just be a matter of compatible wavelengths—”

“Right,” “And one more thing. I’m curious whether the person she saw at the warehouse and the shadow following her were indeed the same.”

“You’re saying they’re different?” Gotou interjected. “Just a hunch, but I think that we need to factor in that possibility,” said Yakumo, putting a stop to the discussion.

In other words, nothing seemed certain to them for now. Makoto was aware they shouldn’t panic, yet uneasiness spread throughout her chest. “What should we do after this?” asked Makoto.

Yakumo’s face turned bitter. “Right. Makoto-san, please inform her to observe the situation a little longer. Tell her to reach out immediately if any ghosts appear later on—” “Got it.”

“Then, can I ask one more thing from you?” “Sure.”

“I’d like you to gather a little more information on the past spiritual phenomena at that warehouse.” “Leave it to me,” Makoto responded, yet she felt that instruction from Yakumo was irrelevant.

Perhaps in the face of panic, Yakumo was looking in the wrong direction— -

18 -

After leaving the hospital where Hata worked, Ishii headed directly back to the Unsolved Cases Special Investigations Division room. He planned to look into Makoto’s request.

With a search through the database, Ishii was immediately met with matching results. Three years ago, there had in fact been a missing persons report with the name of Ikuta Tomoko filed to the police. With no further delay, he requested for the documents.

In her fourth year as a student in Meisei University, a friend of hers had submitted the report. Some investigation had been performed. According to it, Tomoko had suddenly disappeared with no warning whatsoever.

There had been no signs of struggle nor damage at the campus dorm where she had lived alone, and the furniture had been left as it is. Since insufficient evidence had been found and there hadn’t been any witnesses, the case had become forgotten with time.

In reality, this happened often. Ishii promptly contacted Makoto on his phone.

<Hello?> “This is Ishii Yuutarou.”

<I know,> Makoto replied, stifling out a laugh. This sort of banter had seemed to become a routine between them.

“About the matter you requested...” <You’ve found something?>

Makoto’s tone raised in an instant. “Yes.” Ishii then shared the result of his investigation with Makoto.

Finished listening to Ishii’s explanation, Makoto mumbled, <So it was true after all—> “Does the missing person case from three years ago have something to do with the current case?” asked Ishii.

Makoto gave a pause as if thinking. <I don’t know for sure. But that case felt similar to the case from a woman name Maki-san who came to consult me this time around.> “I suppose so...”

<Anyway, I’ll let Yakumo-kun know about this fact.> “Ah, about that, let me contact him. There are other things I need to report to him as well.”

<Alright. Please do.> After ending his conversation with Makoto, Ishii was about to make a call to Yakumo right as Miyagawa returned.

He must have been running all over the place. The exhaustion on his face was apparent. Ishii would like to let his superior catch a break, yet he was interested in what information Miyagawa had managed to obtain. “Um...” Ishii began.

“I know,” Miyagawa replied as he crashed on his seat. “I’ve asked a bunch of neighbours around that house and apparently ever since the accident, the family hardly interacted with their neighbours.” “Is that so...”

Instead of cutting off contact deliberately, the more probable reason would be the lack of free time as they had to scramble around following the accident. “After her son’s disappearance, Harue lived by herself there, but she quickly fell ill and became constantly bedridden.”

The hospital bed in the room where Ishii had seen a ghost materialised in his mind. Most likely, Harue had drawn her final breath on that bed.

Thinking about it, Harue had lost so much in so little time. Her daughter in law. Granddaughter. And finally, her son— Ishii’s chest grew tighter, imagining the time she had spent in that lonely hospital bed after a string of constant loss.

“Well, the point is, I didn’t manage to find out anything useful,” Miyagawa laughed mockingly at himself. No, that wasn’t the case. Hearing that information just now, Ishii came up with a way to investigate the Kawakami family.

The hospital bed had belonged to Harue. In that case, there should be a caretaker or someone who would be going in and out of that house prior to her passing. They might be able to learn something from there.

“Weren’t you going to call someone just now?” Miyagawa brought Ishii to his senses, phone still in hand as he had intended to call Yakumo earlier. “Ah yes, excuse me for a bit,” Ishii took his phone out to the hallway and called Yakumo.

<How are things?> Yakumo quickly spoke as soon as he picked up the call. He was acting composed, but the restlessness in his heart slipped through at times.

Ishii himself was actually panicking too. Haruka’s safety was in his mind the entire time. “I managed to learn a number of interesting things—”

Setting aside his awful thoughts, Ishii went straight into telling everything he had heard from the nurse Satou and Hata, as well as what information Miyagawa had gathered. Yakumo showed interest in Hata’s story in particular, inquiring about it in more detail in terms of nuances and such.

The conversation back then had remained fresh in Ishii’s mind, and he tried to describe it as accurately as possible. At the end of it, Ishii hurriedly called out to Yakumo who was about to hang up.

He nearly forgot to share something important. Ishii then told him about the investigation Makoto had requested, that a missing person report for a woman named Ikuta Tomoko had in fact been filed to the police three years ago.

<Is that true?> Yakumo’s response to that information was clearly unlike the rest. He seemed to think that this fact was rather crucial.

“Yes.” <Can I have a look at the documents?>

“Yes. I’ll bring it over.” <Please do. Ah, before that, if there are any photos of that woman, I’d like to have it sent over by email or something.>

“Understood.” Ishii should be able to handle something that simple.

<Little by little, I feel like I’m starting to see the outline of this case,> Yakumo mumbled. “Eh? Really?” Ishii sounded much louder than he had imagined that he took himself by surprise.

Even so, there was no chance he wouldn’t be surprised over this. <Yes. I don’t have any proof yet, but we might be able to find her.>

“Thank goodness,” Ishii stroked his chest in relief. Since those words came from Yakumo, who had resolved many cases until now, he should be able to believe it.

<But we shouldn’t let our guard down. Considering how that woman operates—> Yakumo’s words seemingly echoed in layers within Ishii’s ear canal.

He was right. They shouldn’t lower their guard. There was no mistaking that Nanase Miyuki was somehow involved in this array of cases. Ishii hardly thought that woman would let her tail get caught so easily, either.

The woman’s cold, sadistic smile made its way into Ishii’s thoughts. -

19 -

Gotou turned to see a concrete building in view. The structure itself, with its flat concrete roof illuminated by bluish white moonlight, gave the impression of a box.

The corpse inside a box had been discovered in this location. Right afterwards, Haruka had been abducted. They weren’t mistaken in thinking that the place bore a connection to Haruka’s case. Hence, they decided to investigate the site once again.

Gotou took a glance at Yakumo next to him. His face was as expressionless as ever, but deep inside he must be going through a level of anxiousness he had never experienced before.

To Yakumo, Haruka wasn’t merely a woman he had feelings for. Yakumo had constantly denied his own existence and walked amongst the dark. Towards someone like that, Haruka had been the one to shine a light over and reach out to save him. It was thanks to Haruka that Yakumo could finally accept his own existence.

Should he lose that light, Yakumo would certainly fall into darkness to the point of no return. And that was precisely Nanase Miyuki’s objective.

I definitely won’t let that happen. That strong resolve was born within Gotou. ”Please stop staring at me like that. It’s gross,” cursed Yakumo.

He might be acting normally, but the absence of composure in his words was obvious. Despite that, Gotou didn’t point it out. Yakumo was well aware of the fact, more than anyone else.

“Shut up. Anyway, let’s go.” Gotou began walking in vigour, but Yakumo called to stop him. “Wait a moment.”

He turned around to find Yakumo looking at his phone screen. Peering over, he saw a photo of a woman displayed there. Someone he didn’t recognise.

“Who’s that?” “I asked Ishii-san to send it over.”

“Aah.” Hearing that, it all made sense to Gotou. He had overheard Yakumo’s conversation with Ishii moments ago. It must be the woman who had disappeared after visiting this warehouse three years ago.

“That woman is connected to this case?” “Yes. I’m certain after seeing the photo,” Yakumo said so firmly.

“What’s the connection?” “She’s the one—”

Yakumo’s red left eye had a sharp glint to it. “Of what?”

“The female ghost who came to my place.” “What!?”

Gotou finally understood. They were investigating a total of four spiritual cases this time. One of them being the female ghost who had appeared in Yakumo’s place.

To think that the identity of that ghost was the woman who had disappeared three years ago— It felt as if a piece of the scattered puzzle had finally found its way to its rightful placement.

“In any case, that means we really gotta check inside this warehouse one more time,” Gotou stared at the building right in front of him. Perhaps with the acquisition of new information, the building seemed to emanate an aura far more terrifying than before.

“Anyway, let’s hurry and go,” Gotou was about to make a move, but before he had the chance to, Yakumo stopped him once again. Not with words this time, but by catching his arm. Yakumo was no Ishii, so it couldn’t be that the man got cold feet at the last minute.

“What’s wrong?” Gotou asked, but Yakumo gave no reply. Still, he was staring straight into the building—no, that wasn’t it. Yakumo was looking even further away. 

Towards the densely populated little forest just ahead of the building. “You…” Yakumo mumbled as he began walking. He passed the side of the building, cutting through weeds as he stepped forward.

Where is he going? Gotou chased after Yakumo whilst questioning the fact.

The density of the trees obscured the moonlight that the further in, the darker it became. Roughly thirty metres away from the building, Yakumo halted his steps and crouched to inspect something on the ground.

Is something there? Now caught up to Yakumo, Gotou peeked over from behind his back.

Over there— —was a box.

It appeared to be a gigantic cooler box, old and brownish in colour. Since when was this box placed here? Normally, no one would have gone this far in, so the box must have been sitting here for a long time.

“This was dug up only recently,” Yakumo said as if he had read Gotou’s mind. “How’d you know?”

“Take a look at this,” Yakumo traced the surface of the box with his finger. The dirt covering the box’s surface came off following the trail of Yakumo’s finger. After which, the original colour of the box was revealed to be white underneath.

I see. The box had a brownish appearance from all the dirt stuck to it. In other words, as Yakumo had stated, the box hadn’t always been placed here, but had been dug out recently by someone.

Still, something didn’t make sense to him. “What is this box exactly?” Gotou questioned, and Yakumo exhaled a long sigh, briefly turning his gaze at the sky.

Winds blew, shifting the tree branches back and forth. After giving a brief pause, Yakumo looked at Gotou. The darkness lurking within his eyes was indescribable.

“We’ll know once we open it,” Yakumo said calmly, and slowly opened the box. Its contents were hardly visible in the dark. Gotou switched on the flashlight he brought and shone it over the inside of the box.

Within laid a woman with long hair, curled into a foetal position. Her body had long since rotted. She must have been deceased for quite some time. “What on earth is this...”

“Ikuta Tomoko-san who disappeared three years ago,” said Yakumo, who then closed his eyes quietly. -

Translation Notes [1] Umibozu (海坊主) is a bald, humanoid sea-spirit creature from Japanese folklore.

[2] Police contact form (巡回連絡カード) is a form one fills out with contact information for the police to use in the event of emergencies.

[3] Takobozu (たこ坊主) is a word for someone with a bald or shaved head, perhaps like calling someone ‘baldy’, but I left it untranslated as to not lose reference to the prior Umibozu nickname.

[mistermalaprop]

finished au crosshairs art & talking about the stranded au

continuing from this post! want to start reading? here!

w/ the text and then-

no text! finally, he's all colored and pretty!

anyway, i know this idea is a bit niche and weird but i’ll talk about it here:

the fuck is this idea, mal!?

you don’t have to shout :(

but in summary: the stranded crosshairs au takes place after an alternate timeline in age of extinction (2014) where lockdown + cemetery wind was successful in nerfing almost all decepticons and autobots on earth. lockdown does not get defeated and humans are still assholes, yippie! crosshairs, being crosshairs, nopes the fuck out when optimus prime gets captured and executed— and drift comes with, because literally everyone else is dead… including the yeagers :( i’m sorry, but the government would kill them all.

the two are on the run in space for a couple months or years, but they get inevitably captured by lockdown and— oop! that’s all i’ll say about that.

this incident ends up with crosshairs’ spark being transported via a tear in the well of allsparks and he wakes up in the rid 2015 universe!

ohh okay okay.. but what about crosshairs himself?

crosshairs, in the live action movies, is a fucking jerkwad arse lmao and i know it. due to story reasons, his behavior is mellowed out and he’s not as obnoxious (we still need rid15 sideswipe to be that #1 nuisance) or violent. he hung out with drift for years alone in the middle of space, he picked up a few things!

well, not as violent towards other bots i mean. after cemetery wind back in his own world, he is distrusting of humans to a lethal degree (rip danny and russell) and hates being touched. i wont get into too many specifics, but just know he’s a tired, blunt bastard that just wants to sleep all day (it’s the depression and chronic attachment issues).

he starts off alone in the story but gets picked up into the bee team (against his will).

other info!

i’m happy to answer any questions about anything in this au (characters, relationships, story, etc) via the ask box. i like answering questions <3 other comments and concerns are also not minded :)

also! design wise— because i love designing things and talking about design choices— below is how i’d imagine the parachutes to work. i wanted to keep the paratrooper aspect of his original character since i liked how unique it was!

i hope it makes sense, because it was funny to draw.

i had fun drawing that, it’s silly.

and that’s all i got for now! here is my current poster for this au— in color and black/white! since i’m planning on it being a little comic thing with some writing (maybe).

[nalyra-dreaming]

Now I understand why people were saying they should have started with Lestat’s backstory or intertwined Louis’ and Lestat’s stories at the same time.

(Is this because of the confusion for some people as to the truth?)

A while ago there were asks re the show and Christopher's original idea (and script) to start with TVL... this show spent forever in pre-production hell

but I think @cbrownjc put it very succinctly, when she said that it would not have worked structurally:

The thing is - "The Vampire Lestat" is, and always was, an answer to Louis. It just would not have worked in any kind of captivating arc to start there and lay it all out.

And the show does an awesome job!!! They gave both Louis and Armand a lot more depth and details, and incentive already, not flattening them to "liar" only.

But we did not get to see the (whole) truth either, and there were statements on this prior to the show

and yet there are people who just... choose to ignore that, and prefer to hurl accusations instead. *shrugs*