#Japan Market Entry

[freyrnigeria]

Navigating the registration of chemical products in Japan is a meticulous undertaking that mandates specialized knowledge, strategic foresight, and an in-depth grasp of the nation's regulatory environment. Japan is revered for its strict regulations aimed at safeguarding safety and promoting environmental sustainability regarding chemical products. For businesses, comprehending the Chemical Product Registration process in Japan is essential for regulatory adherence and seamless market entry. This blog delves into the principal regulatory authorities, prerequisites, and obstacles associated with registering chemical products in Japan, along with professional insights to facilitate the process.

Understanding the Regulatory Framework Japan imposes rigorous chemical regulations that control the registration of chemical products. The key entities overseeing this process include:

Chemical Product Registration in Japan: An In-Depth Overview

These regulatory agencies collaborate to ensure that chemical products available in Japan satisfy the nation's high standards for safety, quality, and environmental integrity. For companies, grasping the nuances of these regulatory structures is vital for an efficient Chemical Product Registration process in Japan.

Essential Requirements for Product Registration To register a chemical product in Japan, companies need to submit extensive data addressing various aspects of the product, such as:

Composition: Comprehensive details on chemical composition, including active ingredients, additives, and potential contaminants. Intended Use: Documentation clarifying the product's intended applications and potential exposure levels. Safety Data: Strong emphasis is placed on environmental safety and consumer well-being in Japan. Companies must provide detailed toxicological studies, chemical analyses, and risk assessments. This data must be generated in line with Japanese standards and guidelines, often involving specific testing protocols that may differ from those in other areas. Environmental Impact Evaluation: Assessments of the product's effects on the environment. Assembling this comprehensive data is crucial for establishing compliance with Japanese chemical regulations and ensuring consumer safety.

Eligibility for Registration Only entities physically registered in Japan can initiate the chemical product registration. Specifically, a registered Market Authorization Holder (MAH) must be appointed to import or market these products. This emphasizes the need for a local presence or partnership to facilitate the registration process.

Step-by-Step Guide to Chemical Product Registration in Japan The registration process unfolds through several pivotal stages:

Pre-registration Consultations: Companies should engage with regulatory bodies or expert consultants before commencing the registration process to fully understand all requirements. Submission of Application Documents: After gathering and preparing all necessary data, the company submits the relevant documents—including product composition, safety assessments, and intended use information—to the appropriate regulatory bodies (MHLW and METI). Review by Regulatory Authorities: Post-submission, regulatory agencies review the application for completeness and compliance. The review duration may vary based on the product's complexity and the thoroughness of the submitted documents. Issuance of a Registration Certificate: After a successful review, the regulatory bodies provide a registration certificate that permits the product to be marketed and sold in Japan. Advancing through these stages demands careful planning and strict compliance with Japan's Chemical Regulations.

Overcoming Challenges in Chemical Registration in Japan Businesses entering the Japanese market might face various challenges, including:

Language Barriers: All submissions must be in Japanese, and communication with regulatory authorities typically occurs in the local language, which can pose challenges for foreign entities. Complex Regulations: Japanese regulatory requirements may differ significantly from other regions, particularly in toxicology testing and environmental assessments. Familiarizing oneself with these nuances is critical for Japan's chemical regulatory compliance. Testing Protocols: Japan frequently mandates specific testing protocols that are not required in other markets. Compliance with these protocols is essential to prevent delays and extra costs. Collaborating with seasoned regulatory consultants and local representatives familiar with the landscape is prudent for effectively addressing these challenges.

Expert Advice For companies aiming to streamline their registration and assure compliance with Japanese regulations, joining forces with a specialized consultancy such as Freyr can be extremely beneficial. Our expertise can help navigate the intricacies of the registration process more smoothly.

For tailored support, consider contacting Freyr today through the information available on their

[neiptune]

surreal, but nice

cw: 7k wc, female reader, strangers to lovers, osamu doesn't exactly know how to handle one of the most famous music artists in japan suddenly popping in onigiri miya, inspired by notting hill, my sappy entry for the romcom collab hosted by @bloompompom! thank you @yellow-sword-lily, this fic is also a little yours :)

Miya Osamu is a creature of habit.

He gets up fairly early, showers, never leaves the small apartment without fixing himself a nutritious breakfast, more or less knows and is therefore prepared to what to expect from each particular day.

Downstairs there’s his beloved shop, a dormant creature he gently stirs from sleep each morning. When he doesn’t have to head to the market to select and order the freshest products, Osamu starts the day by contacting all his suppliers and arranging the deliveries. He then checks the inventory, reviews reservations, welcomes the only other chef to discuss any special preparations or new experiments. It’s not unusual for him to check his emails, monitor the website and official social media of the shop, the one thing he actually hates doing because he knows damn well one negative comment will ruin his day, especially since there’s nothing he can do to rectify mistakes made days, sometimes weeks before.

He has a chef, one dishwasher, three servers, two food delivery drivers and that’s about it. Osamu Miya is the owner, manager, host, executive chef, server and cashier of onigiri Miya. He juggles management skills, culinary talent and business acumen just perfectly. He’s prepared and knows exactly what each day has in store for him.

Until you happen.

Osamu has been cooking for almost three hours by the time the shop officially opens at 11AM. It’s not unusual for new faces to come in from time to time, despite his clientele being more or less established, but it is rare to hear the little door chime ring so soon. Except if his dumb brother happens to be in town.

But you’re not his dumb brother. You’re a new and yet strangely familiar face, even hidden behind thick sunglasses and a beret that one could deem more appropriate to a parisian getaway rather than a Kansai one.

“Morning” you offer a little bow, hesitant by the door “you’re open, right?”

“Uh, sure” he smiles, still a little uncertain after a moment of astonishment “I don’t often have clients for breakfast. What can I get ya?”

“I’ve been told this is the best onigiri shop in town. I’ll let you decide”

You seem to consider your options for a moment, then decide to sit at the closest empty table. Osamu would usually provide more than a nod: he’d make conversation, ask questions. Forming bonds with whoever visits his shop and trusts his food is his favorite part of the day, as well as a great activity to engage in while his hands are busy putting the rice into molds.

“Close that mouth” is the only thing he utters under his breath, glancing at the server who set your table “yer catching flies”

“But it’s her!” Hiro squeaks as silently as humanly possible “I’m gonna ask for an autograph”

“You will do no such thing”

“We could hang it in the shop!”

“Go help in the kitchen, Minato called in sick today. I’ll handle this”

Hiro disappears behind closed doors but only after batting his freakishly long lashes to his boss, a heartbreaking disappointed look on his face.

Osamu takes a deep breath and squeezes the molds together, an action executed as gently as possible to keep the fluffy texture that makes his onigiri the best in town.

He knows you, of course he knows you. Not only your face was on any available surface for the entirety of the previous summer (posters, billboards, magazine covers to advertise your first ever concert in the Koshien stadium), he’s also pretty sure in high school Atsumu had perpetually ruined the walls of their shared room with some crappy adhesive squares used to hang your poster.

Osamu is not really a dedicated listener, he knows a couple of your most famous songs and that your success is damn near planetary. You have a house in Tokyo but spend most of the year in America, California if he recalls correctly, and you tour across Europe as well. Yet, it’s been easy to pick what to serve you. The gourmet options such as salmon roe or roast beef are off the table: they don’t make new clients feel special. What new clients need is a taste of authenticity, something that reminds them of home, and don’t you look just like the kind of person who could use some of that?

Osamu decides on pickled plum, tuna mayo and bonito flakes. One serving usually consists of three onigiri but he can’t resist adding an extra treat for you, a tenmusu onigiri. He’s recently perfected the recipe with an egg-free tempura batter that is still thick enough to absorb his special sauce.

He hopes it’s not creepy that he lingers by your table after he brings your meal: celebrity or not, you’re a new client. And Osamu can’t resist observing the wander taking over customers who are unfamiliar with his kitchen, as soon as they take the first bite. He hopes you are no exception.

“If this is an onigiri” you lock eyes with him and smile, glorious, radiant “what the hell have I been eating until now?”

“Probably not the best in town” he grins, proud, a slight blush already coating his cheeks. Damn it, he’s tempted to turn the baseball cap once more, let the brim shield his awkwardness. But that would be totally lame.

“Is it a family business?”

“No. It’s just… mine”

You hum, busy chewing on another bite. Then you swallow and ask another question, invite him to sit eventually, then apologize because he’s probably busy (he is) and has things to do (he does) but this is never going to happen again for Osamu, because he’s not Atsumu. And so he sits and makes conversation like a normal human being that definitely isn’t obsessively dwelling on how beautiful you are, how different your voice sounds when you’re not singing, how much he’d hate for a client to come in and pop that bubble. Which is exactly what happens and he doesn’t like it one bit how you interrupt your chuckle, lower your head, hunch your shoulders in an attempt to hide. He doesn’t like that he has to excuse himself, call Hiro back form the kitchen, make conversation with Suzuki-san, listen while he describes all his latest hospital visits in horrifying detail.

You look at him from time to time, the quiet shop owner suddenly turned chatty sparks your curiosity. He’s skilled with his hands and genuinely interested in what the person who must be an habitué has to say. He’s attractive, too. Especially as he tries to disguise the occasional glances directed your way or the disappointment that flashes in his eyes when you get up and start collecting your things.

“Can I get the check, please?” you approach the counter, pretend not to notice his hesitation. Osamu decides against indulging in the “it’s on the house” cliche, opts for treating you as any other client. With the exception of a small discount you won’t even notice.

“That was the best breakfast I had in a while” you collect the receipt and put in your pocket.

“You should come back, then. To have another” Osamu cringes internally as soon as the words leave his mouth and Suzuki-san’s chuckle makes him want to dig a hole to disappear into. But you smile, despite probably having heard the corny line a million other times, and tell him that you just might.

It would’ve been perfect: a beautiful ending to a glorious encounter. It could’ve been. If only you didn’t turn around so abruptly, a small shriek echoing across the shop as you came face to face with Mai, the sudden sound and panic causing her to jump and spill the fresh iced tea from the jug in her hand all over your painfully clean, crisp, starched, white button down.

You both freeze, your mouth open in a silent scream, an horrified look in Mai’s eyes that would’ve been comical on literally any other occasion. Osamu wishes he would’ve went with the “it’s on the house” cliche.

“Oh my god! Oh god! It’s you! I mean, I’m sorry!” Mai’s voice comes out an octave too high “my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Well, this is great” you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and attempt to dab the mess on your shirt “I have a meeting in half an hour!”

“Please, take my uniform! I will pay for the dry cleaning!”

“Actually” Osamu chimes in as politely as possible, trying his best not to let his anxiety get the best of him “don’t take this the wrong way but, uh, I live upstairs. You can get cleaned up and…”

“You’re kidding, right?” your astonished look is almost glacial. It makes him falter just slightly.

“Or ya can leave with a giant orange stain on yer wet, probably uncomfortably cold shirt?”

“Miya-san!” Mai’s hiss and your shocked expression make him think that sarcasm probably wasn’t a good idea. Osamu sighs.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. These are the keys, you can go on your own, I promise the bathroom’s clean”

You eye him for a few seconds more, then decide against grabbing the keys from his hand.

“I’m gonna need a change of clothes”

Osamu blinks a couple times, dumbfounded. His clothes? You’re asking to wear… his clothes?

“Sure! Yeah, sure. Come on” now his voice sounds uncharacteristically squeaky and he clears his throat as you follow him up the stairs, Suzuki-san’s good grief still ringing in his ears.

Thank god he cleaned the entire apartment just the day before. As much as he likes to brag about being the tidy twin, deep down he knows he’s just as messy as Atsumu.

Osamu tries hard not to look at you, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed while he rummages in his drawers in search of something that could fit you. He shortly wonders if it’d be a good idea to offer a complementary bento box to make up for the disaster Mai caused.

“I’m genuinely sorry” he starts rambling because the silence is unbearable and some of Atsumu’s genes really do take over sometimes “the worst incident we ever had at the shop was my brother almost choking on his dinner. I had to perform the heimlich maneuver, it wasn’t pretty” god, where the hell are this clean, not embarrassing shirts?

“Guess this one will go down in history” your voice is less sharp now, which relieves him.

“Oh, no. I will never tell anyone about this, ever. Mai and Suzuki-san will have to sign an nda. A proper, legally binding one”

The laugh you offer sounds weirdly intimate in the small space of his bedroom, it makes the tips of his ears hot. Finally, he’s able to dig out a decent, basic shirt you accept by thanking him softly. When you lock yourself in the bathroom, Osamu rushes to the kitchen to tidy up the mess he’s left behind after that morning’s breakfast. No time to concentrate on how you’re actually, genuinely in his home, cleaning yourself in the same bathroom he showered in, without a shirt on.

No one’s ever going to believe him. Hell, he may not believe it himself by the end of the day.

“Hey” he jumps at your voice, sudden and closer than expected. You look good in his basic shirt, it suits you somehow. Did you shove your own in one of the bags you left by the door?

“Hey” Osamu says back and cringes for the millionth time “are ya hungry?”

You smile when he shuts his eyes for a second, right after the silly question leaves his mouth.

“Not hungry”

“Right. Of course. Thirsty? I have really good tea, from Shizuoka. And orange juice” he pauses for a second, then adds “or water”

Your smile grows, almost melts into a giggle. “Not thirsty either”

“Okay” he clears his throat “how about dessert? I made some mitarashi dango just yesterday”

“I have a meeting to attend”

“Oh. Sure, yeah, that makes sense” he wants to bash his head against the wall “I’ll walk you out. To downstairs” thank fuck ‘Tsumu isn’t there, he’d never let him live this down. Jesus.

You precede him to the door, gather your bags, then softly thank him for the shirt.

“Nice meeting you, Osamu” he nearly explodes when you say his name, no honorifics whatsoever. How do you even know? He hasn’t carried a name tag on his shirt for years.

“It was nice to meet you too” there’s no time to dwell on dumb, pointless questions “surreal, but nice”

He thinks if your smile could conjure waves, he’d gladly give up all the oxygen in his lungs and drown in them. Has someone ever looked as beautiful while smiling at him? He doesn’t think so. He can’t think. Not when you’re leaning closer, not when your arms are suddenly wrapped around his neck, not when you’re pressing your lips to his. Holy shit. You’re pressing your lips to his. And he’s forgotten how to breathe, let alone kiss. Osamu just freezes, like a marble statue, like a teenager who’s never touched a woman before. Right as he’s about to swallow the shock and fucking move, you’re already pulling away, eyes not leaving his despite the slight self-consciousness swarming in those irises.

And then you disappear, just like the dream he believed you were, all that’s left is an empty spot by the door and his heart slamming against a pathetically ill-equipped ribcage.

La Suite is one of the most luxurious hotels in the prefecture and Osamu feels out of place with the 30 onigiri order he’s carrying past a french restaurant and a traditional japanese one, all soft carpeting, dim lights and wide windows. So different from his.

He timidly explains that he’s there to deliver an order to a certain Bennet-san, who for some reason insisted he’d be the one bringing it to her hotel. They look at him funny but let him through and give the coordinates: top floor, superior double room. A woman meets him the second he steps out of the elevator and sternly asks him to follow her, a silly part of him wonders if he’s about to get murdered in one of the top 25 hotels in Japan. But then she knocks on a door right before swinging it open and he doesn’t even get to explain that he’s not supposed to get inside, she can take the bloody bag and he’ll be on his merry way, but once again Osamu fails to determine what the day holds in store for him.

Once more, it’s you. A less preppy version, one that seems so small in such a gigantic room, the sea breeze blowing from the terrace gracefully lifting up the hem of a tennis skirt you immediately fight to keep down as you promptly get up from the couch.

“Hi” he says, so dumbfounded he barely notices the door closing behind him.

“Miya-san” you bow, keep your eyes down, no sign of a smile he could by now deem familiar “I’m sorry for the trouble, I know the hotel is pretty far from the restaurant and you must be busy. This will only take a second”

Osamu’s brows furrow, confusion evident in the way he cocks his head. You don’t catch it, because your eyes are glued to the floor. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I don’t know what came over me, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me”

His eyes soften as part of the tension leaves his shoulders. Truth is, Osamu is glad you’re apologizing: despite how beautiful and dreamy you may be, life is not quite a movie and he doesn’t exactly appreciate being blindsided by a stranger. He doesn’t really understand what made you think kissing him would be a good idea (was his awkardness interpreted the wrong way? Did his stare linger on your smile a second too long?) but he’s certain you meant no harm. A shitty person certainly wouldn’t take time out of her day to leave an autograph on a napkin, especially right after half a jug of iced tea was spilled on her shirt just minutes before. To Hiro, with love.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Can ya look at me?”

You meet his gaze hesitantly, mouth a thin line of harsh disapproval directed at yourself. For a second, you remind him of someone and he almost breaks into a smile.

“Thank you for apologizing. We’re good”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah!” he chuckles “you didn’t have to place such a big order”

You blink twice, then start nervously fiddling with your fingers “ah, actually I didn’t do it to… well, those onigiris are just really good. I wanted to take some extra ones with me”

“You’re leaving?” he doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, especially not while you’re so intentionally keeping your distance.

“Kinda. My record label rented a house in the countryside, I’ll spend most of the summer locked in, trying to finish my new album. I couldn’t do it in America, I missed being home but didn’t want to endure Tokyo’s chaos so I ended up picking Hyogo. Sorry, you didn’t ask to know all that” you chuckle tensely “we leave tomorrow and I didn’t want to go without apologizing first. That’s all. You may go now”

Osamu hums. “I may go? As in I’m excused?” he laughs when your painfully stoic expression melts into sheer horror.

“No! Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You take yourself too seriously” he grins “I’m just messin’ with ya”

“That’s not very nice of you”

“Would you compare it to kissing a stranger out of the blue?”

“Oh god” you hide your overheated face in your hands “you said we’re good!”

“And we are” Osamu steps closer to gently place the bags still in his hands on the marble topped pedestal coffee table. It’s just fun to tease you, one of the many irritating habits he shares with his brother.

His brother. Osamu looks up, a risky desire taking shape in his head and threatening to spill over the tip of his tongue.

“I’m really sorry, Miya-san” you repeat and he doesn’t love that you’re now calling him that “uh, this is your shirt. Cleaned and ironed. Thank you for…”

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

You freeze, paper bag still in hand. “Uhm, nothing interesting”

“No packing?”

“My manager does that for me”

He chuckles. “Right. Chances you’d want to spend your last night in the city at an even less interesting birthday party?”

Osamu waits patiently while you weigh your options, recognizes the confusion in your hesitant stare but doesn’t quite understand why there’s a weary vibration to your voce when you accept, the slight disappointment that flashes across your features.

It’s only fair, you think as he parts from the room with a smile and the command to secure those onigiris in a fridge. If showing you off to his friends like some valuable conquest is the way he wants to even the score, you’re in no position to deny him. You’re the one at fault and you’ve been given a chance to make up for it by wearing the facade you wear best.

Then why does it feel so disheartening, this time?

When Shinsuke opens the door, he’s more surprised by your presence than the carefully wrapped gift in your hands. Not that he doubted Osamu: why send a message to the group chat telling everyone that a) he was bringing someone and b) they should’ve absolutely not behaved any differently than usual if not better (in bold), if he wasn’t actually going to show up with a plus one?

Still, a small part of him did wonder if Atsumu’s and Rintaro’s relentless teasing finally got the best of him. Shinsuke doesn’t think that his friend works too much or that he should start “looking around” before “his hair starts greying again only this once naturally”. He remembers Osamu rolling his eyes at his brother when he implied that at this rate he’s gonna have to tie the knot with the restaurant, only to then space out for most of the evening as everyone else found new topics to migrate toward.

In short, Shinsuke wondered if Osamu was going to come up with a last minute excuse to justify the empty spot next to him at the table. But it seems that spot is going to be taken after all, by you nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you, Kita-san” you smile after Osamu introduces you by your name and nothing else, not a wink, not even a subtle hint or a reasonable explanation “happy birthday”

Shinsuke accepts the gift with a polite thank you and he’s almost made sure you could preserve a nice, normal memory of stepping foot into his house for the first time, of course failing to consider the Hinata factor.

“Thank god, Osamu, I’m so hungry- holy shit! Is her your gift? I only brought a cap that says farm hair don’t care!” there’s a strange but seemingly friendly redhead looking at you with eyes so wide you fear they might roll out of their sockets.

“Shoyo, any chance you checked the chat today?” Osamu smiles at him widely but Kita recognizes the tension at the corners.

“What? Of course not, I was busy picking a cute gift” Hinata smiles too but his excitement is genuine “hello, nice to meet you! Please come in, you can help us set the table!”

You chuckle and meet Osamu’s horrified eyes for a second, his posture relaxes as your gentle reassurance puts him at ease. I’ll be in the other room, then. Leave it to Hinata to make a gigantic deal out of a special guest only to treat her as one of his buddies ten seconds later. You seemed comfortable, though, as one always feels whenever Shoyo happens to be around.

“Who is she?” Shinsuke doesn’t mean for his tone to be so conspiratorial but he keeps it low, just in case you might still hear them.

“A friend. Kinda. Ya wouldn’t believe me” Osamu takes his jacket off and hangs it by the door, then picks up the plethora of bags from the floor and makes his way into his friend’s kitchen.

“No, I mean… who is she? Why does Shoyo know her?” Shinsuke follows suit, intent on helping him distribute all the food he’s brought in the different plates he has prepared. Osamu shakes his initial surprise off with a chuckle.

“Only one of the most famous pop music artists in Japan”

Kita stills his movements for a second, then absorbs the new information with a simple nod. “Right. And you met her at the shop”

“How d’ya know?”

“Where else would you be meeting a pop music artist?”

“Don’t make it sound so obvious” Osamu pulls a face and Shinsuke’s eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, she’s here. With you. Is it like… a date?”

“No” the peremptory answer comes embarrassingly fast “it’s her last night in the city, she’s here because she didn’t have anything better planned”

“But you invited her”

“Yes”

“Because you like her”

“I don’t-” Osamu gestures vaguely with his hands “it’s not like that. ‘Tsumu used to have a poster of her face in our room, for fuck’s sake”

Kita hums. “So what you actually mean is it can’t be like that”

“I don’t see the difference”

“I do”

“Well-” a loud commotion Osamu has been trained for over two decades to instantly recognize as his brother’s voice, makes the words die in his throat. By the time him and Shinsuke return to the colorfully decorated living room (courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Hinata and one resigned Rintaro), Atsumu is already talking your ear off and seemingly invading your personal space multiple times as he follows you around the table you’re setting with Suna like a golden retriever on a sugar overload.

“Shoyo, you were supposed to keep her safe” Osamu glares at his brother and takes a mental note to scold Aran too, later. For snickering.

Hinata doesn’t get the chance to defend himself because of course Atsumu’s the only one who could outshine that intense excitement with his own.

“Samu! What the hell? If this is yer gift to Shin, what are ya plannin’ to get me exactly?”

“Can everyone stop assuming she’s here as a thing and not as a person?” it comes out harsher than intended and Osamu feels his face grow hot when all those present simply stare at him. When you stare at him.

Suna clears his throat.

“Cut him some slack, he came out of the bathroom and we could barely convince him she’s not a hallucination” you chuckle at that, which makes the ever stoic Rintaro look away with a faint blush blossoming on his pale cheeks.

“Wait” Atsumu looks at you, then at his brother and his brows become progressively furrowed “she’s here with you? As in, you invited her? And she said yes?”

Osamu wonders why he thought a simple admonishment in the group chat would be enough. He has half an idea of shoving an onigiri right into his brother’s loud mouth and not perform any maneuver whatsoever when the rice obstructs his airways.

“Actually, I wanted to come” you chime in so gently it takes a few moments for him to register the words “I’m leaving tomorrow and when Miya-san mentioned it was one of his friends’ birthday, I shamelessly asked if I could tag along. Hope I’m not a bother”

Kita is looking at you the same way Osamu is, puzzled. Hinata almost chokes on his coke and starts coughing profusely, so much that Aran has to lend him a napkin.

“A bother? No, of course not!” his nose might be on fire but by god, he physically cannot let you believe such nonsense for a second too long.

Atsumu’s mouth hangs wide open, brows still knit that make his expression overall hilarious “you make her call you Miya-san? Yikes, bro” he turns to you and makes a scene of slamming a hand on his chest “please, feel free to call me ‘Tsumu. I think we’re intimate enough by now”

“Given that we took five selfies and you made me sign my name on your abs, I also think we’re intimate enough” your grin seems genuine, which only startles Osamu more.

“Ya made her do what?” oh, there are probably not enough words in the japanese vocabulary for the way he’ll have to apologize at the end of the night.

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind” you shrug “but if I could ask everyone a small favor…”

“Sure, anything!” Atsumu’s interruption only makes your smile grow wider “I’d really like to celebrate Kita-san’s birthday like you’d normally do. Please don’t make a big deal out of me, it’s his night after all”

“She’s asking not to be treated like a circus act” Aran whispers to Hinata, who blinks his big brown eyes in quiet understanding.

“Done!” Atsumu’s fist hits his chest right where the heart is as he solemnly declares “you’re one of the boys now, consider yourself a pal”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu” he tries to keep his composure but nearly implodes as you direct your attention to Shoyo “no, Hinata-san, this doesn’t mean we won’t be taking that picture I promised. Don’t worry” your wink is the prettiest, most wonderful thing he’s ever witnessed and thank fuck he’s done drinking that coke because his airways suddenly feel clogged.

Kita thinks this is already the most entertaining birthday he’s ever celebrated.

And celebrate his birthday you all do. Normally, as per your request. You sit between Rintaro and Osamu at dinner and masterfully divert the attention from yourself whenever the questions start piling up. The uno reverse technique works well: your curiosity feels flattering and everyone is happy to satisfy it. The questions you direct are extremely specific, your laugh echoes alongside everyone else’s and Osamu can’t help but think that, in some odd way, you fit in seamlessly. 

Keeping his eyes off of you isn’t but a strenuous fight with himself, it’d be lovely if looking would be the only activity he’d be allowed to engage in. It’s not hard to guess why hordes of fans and admirers are so enamoured: you’re such a natural. Polite, poised, funny, charismatic. Making you laugh feels like a privilege, having your brows raise in interest makes the story one’s recounting instantly fascinating. And yet you’re not doing any of that on purpose, he can tell. The one thing you’re being intentionally careful about is avoiding his gaze and making sure your arm doesn’t accidentally brush against his.

Osamu wants to ask himself why but also refuses to indulge in childish fantasies. What, he thought you liked him? Part of him believed you’d accepted to come to some stranger’s birthday party purely to spend an evening with him. Bullshit. Everyone in the world knows who you are and he simply owns an onigiri shop in Hyogo, one you happened to visit by sheer chance. He’s the guy you are so embarrassed to be seen with, you had to come up with a lie to justify your presence at the very same table that seems to adore you.

But when he jokingly throws a grain of rice at Aran, you hide your chuckle behind your hand. If he speaks, you always turn to look. Osamu doesn’t remember a social gathering where he tried to come up with just as many things to say, desperately conjuring genes that always weigh heavier in Atsumu. Unfortunately, the one person he could always count on, his dear friend and trusty supplier, decides his birthday night is the perfect occasion to stab him in the back.

“I’m sorry, I just need to ask” Kita refills your glass with fresh wine from across the table before retracting to his seat once more “your encounter with Osamu, how did it happen exactly?”

“Yeah, was his onigiri so good you wanted to-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo” Aran clears his throat as Suna, next to you, has a hard time swallowing his stir fry noodles.

“She heard my shop was the best in town, which it is, came to try it. That’s the story” Osamu wishes he could disappear into his kitchen as he often does when things at the restaurant get uncomfortable.

“I don’t buy it” Shinsuke shrugs “is that really the whole story?”

Kita’s knowing stare really hasn’t changed since high school and it seems you’re affected by it just as much as every other human. His eyes bore right into yours, trained to detect hesitation or even the hint of a lie, giving you no escape. Goddamn it, he’s still the team captain, there’s no running from him.

“Well” you gently swirl the glass in your hand, suddenly very much focused on the crimson liquid swooshing inside “I also kissed him”

This time someone does actually choke and, of course, it’s Atsumu. Right as Rintaro utters an ever quiet holy shit, he explodes in a coughing fit and Aran promptly strikes between his shoulder blades with the heel of his hand, perhaps with more force than needed. Thankfully, Atsumu manages to swallow his bite and, despite the tears threatening to run down his cheeks in all their shimmering glory, still conjures the energy needed to point an intimidating finger at his brother “ya bastard!”

“That’s a joke, right?” Hinata’s eyes have once again grown three sizes.

Kita doesn’t ask, the answer is written all over Osamu’s crimson red face. He was right, no one would’ve believed him.

“No, I really did” you take a sip from your glass and now everyone is looking at you like you’re some kind of alien. Except for Atsumu, who’s still glaring daggers at his brother.

“So this is… a date for you two?” Suna’s just as shocked as everyone else but seems to be the only person currently able to string words together.

“Oh, no” you brush the question off with a gracious wave of the hand “I just did it to thank him”

This time the silence stretches for a moment too long. Atsumu seems on the verge of passing out.

“You kissed him to thank him?” Kita cocks his head.

“Yeah. I mean, he was very kind. Have you never kissed someone to thank them?”

“Uh… no. I don’t think so”

“Really?”

“Do you…” Aran hopes to the gods that the words don’t come out the wrong way “do that often?”

“Aran” as much as Osamu wishes the earth could swallow him whole, he doesn’t want you to think his friends may be implying something they’re really not.

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“It’s okay” you let our a nervous chuckle and because Osamu is sitting so close, he hears the shaky breath too “I know it was wrong. I tend to forget that’s not what normal people are used to. I apologized and now we’re good, right, Miya-san?” your eyes meet his and he feels his heart drop right into his stomach.

“Why are you used to that?” he asks instead of replying to your question and you just. Freeze.

“Yeah…” Hinata quietly chimes in “that doesn’t sound like something anyone should be used to”

For the first time, you don’t know how to respond. Osamu senses your panic, can read it in your eyes, but is too baffled to think of something smart or chivalrous to say.

“Holy shit, ya know what that means?” Atsumu slams both his hands on the table and both you and everyone else jump “it means she thinks I’m hot! In another life, I’d have a chance! Sorry, Shin, I know it’s yer birthday but I think this is the best night of my life!”

A quiet, astonished moment follows, then the table erupts in genuine laughter. You’re giggling so much you have to hold your stomach, Kita is shaking his head in resignation, Suna rolls his eyes with affection. Osamu settles for a smile as he relaxes against his chair once more. His brother may be loud and annoyingly inopportune, but his quiet support never once faltered throughout the years. One doesn’t need to be an old acquaintance to be taken under Miya Atsumu’s wing: if he senses as much as the hint of unease, his charismatic idiocy is summoned right away at the service of whoever may need it. Yet his loyalty remains unshakeable: Osamu knows that, in his stupid head, you’re already forbidden territory.

His mind is dizzy with confusion he doesn’t know how to properly address. As Kita blows out the candles on the cake he’s made, Osamu feels a wave of affection inundate his heart. He remembers that are nights like this that are worth being present, even if he has to get up at dawn or his sink is full of dirty dishes and he’s exhausted. Life only ever feels right when he’s with his friends or his family. It’s a routine he’s trained hard to get used to: work, work, work, carve out small moments to spend with those who come and go. It’s important for him to be there, when they come.

Osamu almost misses it, too focused on cleaning an extra plate or two in the kitchen, to make sure the birthday boy can get to relax once they leave. And then you call for him, a small crack in that poised facade of yours when his name almost slips out. You rush into the kitchen and urge him to hurry up, they’re already singing happy birthday to Kita-san. Come on, you’re missing it!

You probably wanted to go for his sleeve and found his hand instead, dragged him out of the room so quickly Osamu barely had the time to put the towel down. For some reason, once in the living room you don’t let go right away and neither does he. You only do so to clap with everyone else and even then it’s not entirely possible to establish who lets go first. Regardless, Osamu gives your hand a light squeeze and hopes you notice, despite there being no signs to indicate that.

You’re the first two people to excuse themselves: he refuses to let you go back to your hotel on your own, doesn’t give two shits that you have a driver or could well afford a cab because it’s a beautiful evening and Osamu is itching to have as little as ten minutes alone with you. He watches as you formally offer a hand to Suna and he grins as he shakes it, gently taking it in between his in a respectful attempt at suggesting that there’s no need to be so ceremonious.

You exchange quick hugs with everyone else, take the picture promised to Hinata, chuckle lightly when Atsumu timidly asks for a kiss on the cheek just because “it’s the american way of saying goodbye!” and of course you accomodate the request. Osamu is almost willing to bet you genuinely had fun but he also can’t seem to shake off the odd feeling suggesting you’ve somehow taken it upon yourself to just… appease everyone for the entire evening. Like some kind of duty. He doesn’t want you to think back to this evening like a task that had to be carried out.

“Oh my god, I cannot fucking believe it!” Atsumu’s shriek echoes loud and clear in the empty street  as soon as Kita shuts the door and you meet Osamu’s exasperated glare.

“I’m genuinely not sure what I should start apologizing for” he runs a hand through his brown hair and his stress makes you smile as you fall into a comfortable walking pace.

“I should start by thanking you for inviting me. Can’t remember the last time I had such a normal night”

“My friends are many things but I don’t know if they really fall into the normal category”

You laugh at that. “I think they’re really nice. It was fun. I didn’t know there were two of you”

Osamu grimaces, lightly shaking his head “good call, he’s the thing I should start apologizing for”

“I liked Atsumu” of course you did, don’t they all? “you’re lucky to have such good friends and a brother. Is it true what they say about weird connections us twinless mortals wouldn’t get?”

He sighs. As much as Osamu hates stereotypes and all the disadvantages that come with not being able to be his own person, the curse of always being considered nothing but part of a set, he knows the bond with Atsumu is just as rare and irreplaceable as people make it out to be.

“Well, I can pretty much always read his mind. But it’s not a twin thing, s’just an Atsumu thing” he shrugs “most transparent, honest person on earth”

“You’re both very kind” your observation strikes him. It hits the nail on the head: he does his best but it’s unusual for someone to notice ‘Tsumu’s selflessness right away.

“Could say the same about ya” he’s eager to direct the topic to the thing he’s really interested in, the one person who refused every bit of attention directed her way throughout the night “that tea collection must’ve costed a fortune. Shinsuke loves tea, yer manager picked well”

You hum, gaze focused on your feet. “Actually, I picked it”

Another thing Osamu has in common with his brother, the ability to royally fuck up in such a short amount of time.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, happens all the time”

“What happens?”

“People assuming things” you’re not mad, there’s just a sad vibration to your voice. If he could punch himself in the face, he would.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Osamu hates the smile you toss at him. He hates it so much he stops in the middle of the sidewalk and watches you turn around, confusion flashing in your disenchanted eyes.

“There’s a pretty cool park ‘round the corner. How about a detour? If you’re not too tired”

You hum in agreement, ask him to lead the way. Careful, Osamu, you’d like to say. This same polite regard is what got me in trouble the first time.

The park, which is more of a garden really, is a slice of eden in the jungle that any city inevitably ends up feeling like. Lowlands, an abundance of irregular but colorful flowerbeds that seem to glow in the dark, the warm air of the evening saturated with the sweet scent of lime trees, a gravel path you both follow all the way to a small, wooden playground. It’s only natural to gravitate toward the swings, relish in the comfort of the stillness the evening offers. It always feels like the earth rotates slower, pace decelerating to give you more time to enjoy the things it’s hard to appreciate during your hectic days.

Osamu approaches the swing like an old friend, takes hold of the chains with both hands. He lightly pushes off the ground with his feet while pulling back, giving you a perfect view of his perfect profile.

“I don’t want to assume” he says quietly “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yeah” you rest your head on the chain you’re holding, still looking at him who won’t look at you.

“Why did you tell ‘Tsumu you asked me to come tonight?” the actual question dies in his throat. Were you that embarrassed of being there with me?

“You seemed pretty self-conscious. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable” and I guess that way, you got to seem cooler.

Osamu almost chokes on his own spit from how surprised he is by your answer. What the fuck.

“I wasn’t-” not for the reason you seem to believe “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable!”

You smile, patiently waiting for the moment where he’ll finally turn to meet your gaze instead of persistently staring at his feet. “I don’t think I ever felt that comfortable in a room filled with men”

“That shouldn’t be an exceptional occurrence”

“Right. But it is”

He spends a few moments trying to come up with the right words, a handful of seconds spent with part of his brain wishing he could have a talk with all the men who made you feel unsafe. How many? Where, why? Are they the reason why Osamu wants to get so desperately close and yet keep a respectful distance, not to scare you off, not to be another name added to the list of creeps you surely hate?

“Why did you kiss me?” those are far from being the right, considerate words he was trying to summon, but they bubble up from his throat before he can stop them.

You hum, pensive “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you’re gentle, I thought t’was what you expected to happen. It’s what men usually expect in return”

“In return for what?” he fights the urge to keep his eyes down, confident that the darkness will conceal the redness of his cheeks. You think he’s pretty and the first thing his dumb brain is able to link the revelation to, is Atsumu. Shit, he was right, this means you do find him attractive as well.

“Anything, really” your chuckle is devoid of actual humor “I know this night was supposed to make up for it but I didn’t expect to have so much fun. Regardless, I hope we’re even now”

Osamu furrows his brows.

“Ya think that’s why I invited ya?”

“Why else?”

He almost laughs, incredulous. You hide that mistrust really well, Osamu has to give it you. It feels unfair that life has given someone who seemingly has everything, so many reasons to think you can only be seen as an empty shell, some trophy with the sole purpose of being flaunted.

“You said you were leaving. I didn’t like the idea of not seeing you again”

“Really?” your lips curl into a small smile “the weird girl who jumped you on your first meeting?”

“You’re weird” he concedes “and selfless. Intelligent. Maybe jokes are not your forte but, hey, ya get to look like that” your laugh compliments his really well and Osamu can’t help but think he’d like to sit in a park, in the middle of the night, and talk and laugh and be with you just once more.

You briefly wonder if the man sitting so close to you is aware of just how devastatingly charming he is. Part of you wishes he’d want to take you out on a proper date, let you meet his friends on different occasions, include a weird stranger in such a well balanced life. Part of you also knows you’d never want to ruin that for him. Not for someone like Osamu. People who are unfortunate enough to stumble across you are almost always harassed away, it’s a life you’re used to and can’t bring yourself to run from. It’s who you are and, most importantly, all you have. It’d be too dangerous for your heart to desire anything different.

But he’s looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, land emerged from the sea millions of years ago for his eyes only to experience such a sight. No one’s ever looked at you with such wonder.

“I don’t want to assume” he holds your gaze locked to his, swing dangling lightly as he leans closer “so is it okay if I ask?”

“Yes” you utter a little too breathlessly.

“Can I kiss ya?”

You hum in affirmation and close your eyes, heart beating a little faster than what you’re used to as you sense his proximity. He smells nice, radiates warmth and his soft hair tickles a little when his lips gently press to your cheek.

Osamu smiles when he catches a glimpse of disappointment flashing over your features, the first of many clues he wants to learn how to interpret correctly. The cracks in a facade he’d make his personal mission to tear down.

“I know you have to go away tomorrow” he gently moves a strand of hair away from your forehead “but I wondered, if you didn’t, whether you might let me see ya a little. Or a lot, maybe”

You lean into his touch, calloused fingertips still barely grazing your skin.

“A lot sounds good”

[uzurimisery]

the space between two bodies. / satosugu x reader / part 1

Warnings: MDNI, happy ending, angst, cheating (not really this is explained in part 2), unhealthy relationships/coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, depression, smut, no sorcery au, unedited

A/N: I started thinking about Gojo with anxiety and nihilist Geto and then what that looks like in a poly relationship with someone as flawed as they are

part two

“We’re sorry but we’ve decided to go with another candidate now. We will retain your information on file should a more suitable role open up.” 

The email stared back at you, the words on your phone screen blurring as droplets of rain hit it as you read it over for the hundredth time. Today was just another shitty fucked up day in the endless string of shitty fucked up days that had become your life. The third consecutive month of unemployment in a row. At least previously you could get temp jobs but now each day that passed just ate away at you with how useless you felt. 

Pocketing your phone, you pull out a 100 yen coin and put it in the vending machine.

You didn’t even like your old job but Jesus it was like no one was actually hiring. And when you did get an interview, you’d get ghosted afterward. On the rare occasion they didn’t ghost you, you’d receive a rejection letter like this one. It was preferable, you supposed, that your existence and effort were at least acknowledged, no matter how much it stung. Still hurt like a bitch to be told you weren’t good enough. 

Anything would be better than this, fuck you’d take being overworked and underpaid if it felt like you were doing something. This endless cycle of gnawing uncertainty and applications, interviews, followed by rejections. Worse than that you were out of deodorant and trying to find some in Japan was a Herculean effort. 

Yeah, it’s been a shit go and you’re fucking exhausted.

Maybe you’d go be an English teacher like everyone else who moves to Japan. You wouldn’t need a co-teacher so the pay would be better if you were just starting out. Not that you wanted to teach again dear god that was less than ideal. Thank god you had settled status. The thought of having to deal with visa issues at the same time made you feel sick. 

Maybe you could work at a host club. You turned, staring at your reflection in the glass. Your boobs weren’t half bad as you pushed them up from the underside like a push-up bra would. Or sell feet pictures. The market was probably oversaturated at this point but maybe there would be some interest.

Wait Jesus had your hair looked like that all day? Fuck. No wonder that girl kept staring at you on the train she thought you were a lunatic.

Sighing you press the button for 4H. It wasn’t like you’d always been this way, sort of drifting in a sea of uncertainty abroad your boat of doubt with no wind to guide your sails. There was a period of time, maybe a five-year stretch after you had graduated from university where your life was on track. An entry-level job in your degree field, a long-term boyfriend turned fiance, wedding planning, and a great group of friends. Shit, you had it all. 

The fiance was the first to go. 

As it turns out, finding your fiance in bed with the girl he swore you didn’t have to worry about, his tongue halfway down her throat like he’s trying to do an endoscopy, is a terrible way to find out you’re being cheated on. When he noticed you standing in the doorway he had the gall to sputter some bullshit about how it was your fault it happened. You were too focused on your work, you didn’t give him attention, blah, blah, blah. It was you who broke the relationship up by working so much and being married to your job. And as he paid for the overpriced four-bedroom apartment in an area of Tokyo that you didn’t even like, you lost the apartment in the breakup. 

You couldn’t slum dog millionaire your life away on Shoko and Utahime’s couch forever eating tubs of ice cream and binging TV after that, so everyone told you, or rather forced you, to move in with Suguru and Satoru. Bouncing around from couple to couple. It did give you some stability and just as things go up so must they come down. 

The company you were working for was liquidated after an investigation by the federal government found years of tax fraud. Luckily they got bought out, and you thought maybe if you put in work you could still climb the ladder. But all those late nights in the office, conbini dinners, and unpaid overtime, you were just another name on a severance list.

It felt like waves were crashing over you, each one larger than the rest. Almost like you were tied to a dock during a hurricane, a tsunami, or some fucking natural disaster that threatened to drown you if you didn’t hold onto something but there wasn’t much to hold on to. You could hold onto the minuscule amount of friendships that you had at least. It was far too awkward and messy to keep up with anyone else other than your main four since the rest were so tied to your ex-fiance and his life. Stupid fucking lawyer. 

The four of you were close-ish. Less close since Shoko had gone on rotation at a university on the other side of Tokyo. It meant she and Utahime had moved nearer to it since Utahime was willing to commute. But Suguru and Satoru were still close with you and still dating.  Biting as that felt at times. 

You met Geto first in a shared philosophy lecture. One of those run-of-the-mill ones, but the content that really got the two of you talking was nihilism. It was the seminar groups after class you shared where he really saw you. Stripped away of pretenses and your nerves laid bare. Not just another face in a lecture hall but something more, something human. The deep indents of nails in your palms and the rubbing of your hands together under the table. He had seen right through you, recognized the darker parts of himself in you- it made you feel understood.

The machine made a mechanical noise and the lights flickered. Sighing you kick the machine lightly to see if anything happens, if life could give you this one thing today that you so desperately needed. Just like everything else, nothing goes your way and your stupid drink stays logged on the shelf. So like every reasonable person you kick the machine again. 

“Stupid fucking piece of shit machine,” you murmur a growing string of profanities under your breath as you repeatedly kick the machine

.

All you wanted was one of those ¥100 coffee drinks that were loaded with caffeine to keep going through your slog of a day was that so hard? Maybe it would be best if you just packed it up and called it quits. Move back home with your parents and be berated daily. Why aren’t you married? Why did you and Kosuke break up? When are they going to get some grandchildren? They aren’t getting any younger you know. Face the cutting shame of fucking up another opportunity, another chance. 

What was the point in trying anymore when you couldn’t even get a stupid drink that you don't honestly even want at this point out of a vending machine so you can go home and masturbate to audio porn before you cry yourself to fucking sleep? 

Suguru’s voice cut through the spiral of thoughts, your name on his lips. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had an interview and you’d be home late?” 

Of course, he’d catch you like this. 

“Hey Sugs,” it came out as a groan as you kicked the machine again, a loud clang following as your drink hit the bottom of the dispenser. Bending down, you grab the can before turning and facing him. “I did.” 

“How’d it go?”

“Like shit.” Maybe you should work on your delivery. This flat effect is really making you should like a bitch. Are you a bitch? 

Geto’s eyes raked over you, infuriatingly calm and measured. He was always so carefully disheveled, the type of person to look effortlessly put together no matter the occasion. Stupid name-brand black sweater over a white button-down half tucked into chinos with a chain on the belt. His hair, shiny and perfect, was neatly tucked into his signature half-up-hald-down look to keep the strand out of his eyes, minus the one for style. Notably, he was wearing his glasses for once, sleek frames perks on a tall nose. Oh, he smelt nice too, his sandalwood and bergamot cologne hitting you as he stepped closer, extending his umbrella to cover the two of you. Fuck he was so handsome it wasn’t fair.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Geto replied softly.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “ It is what it is.”

But the reality of it clung to you and drug you down, down, down into the depths of your psyche. That small, scared feeling you tried so hard to suppress started bubbling up again, twisting your insides into knots. It made you feel sick, so much like a lost little child in a world that had grown far too big and complex. Here it was, rearing its ugly head, in front of one of the top ten people you never wanted to see in such a shit state.

But that's all Gojo and Geto do at this point. They pick up the broken, crumbling pieces of yourself that slip between your fingers. You feel like a cracked vase leaking water all over the place no matter how desperately they try and patch up the ceramic. Each day the gap between you and them grows more apparent. They were both soaring and you were falling to the ground and rolling around in the mud. 

Geto had just done a four-page spread in Architects Digest, even though he was a pretentious motherfucker who hated the magazine. And Gojo… God, he’d just opened for Prada at Paris Fashion Week. They went viral on every social media platform a while back for how hot and gay they were. You’d been caught in the crossfire of your accounts being tagged and gained a social media boost, but that also meant a bunch of people DMing you telling you to take pictures of them. 

The most fucked up thing about it all was the gnawing feeling that chewing on your bones that you were being dragged around like an accessory to remind them how good they had it. A permanent third wheel they’ve been stuck with since university. Two talented lovers on the brink of permanent importance and their weird little friend who follows them along like a lost puppy. It wasn’t even true and that's why it hurt so much. You knew they believed in you, thought that you could be a successful artist, and supported you in it even, but the jealousy rotted inside you like a festering wound. You weren’t even jealous of their success, only just partial, but it was like you weren’t good enough to be around them. 

Maybe you were better off as wall decor in the life they were building together. Something quiet and serene that didn’t demand anything from them. Better that than the bitter, jealous mess you were every time you saw them succeed.

He starts, the same spiel he goes to when you get like this. “You can always-”

“No.” your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you don’t care. 

“I don’t know why you act like it’s such a bad off,” Suguru presses, his calm demeanor only pissing you off more.  

“I don’t want to work for you.” 

“Why not.” 

You snap. “Because I don’t want to, Suguru! Is that so hard to understand?”

Fuck, you wanted to storm off, go back to the house, and slam the door behind you as you went. But it didn’t matter if you stormed off, you lived in one of his guest bedrooms. Both of you were just headed to the same place. Sad little rescue that you were.

Suguru assessed, his eyes softened, breaking you down. He picked out every one of your insecurities as he stared at you. Microscopic inspection, each of your cells was being assessed for your state of being. Have you eaten? Was it enough? Had you slept? Are you even capable of taking care of yourself in this state? 

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten, and before you could control it, try and reel it back in, tears welled up in your eyes. Blinking them back, you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat bobbing as you did. You hated this. Hated the way his care, his pity, felt like a knife twisting in the last remaining shred of pride you clung to. 

Pity was the killy of pride and you should accept that your pride was already decomposing in the septic tank in the backyard. 

Fuck up, fuck up, fuck up. All you ever were, all you’d ever be. Every loose thread of your shirt feels like it's cutting against your skin. The hem of your trousers drowns your feet like you're wearing your parents' clothes. Shabby. Uncouth. Inept. 

Wordlessly, you turned on your heel and fled, rushing out of the side street as the tears spilled past your lash line. You couldn’t do this anymore--no more questions, no more pity. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you struggled, clawed your way through the fucking dirt, you could never be like them. Never be good like theme, never right like them, never fit like them. They had these perfect little lives that they could boast to everyone about. When they spoke, people listened. People cared what they had to say. The world parted for them, it was the Red Sea and they were Moses, making space. There’d always be room for them to shine. 

But you were screaming into a void, your throat raw, bloody, and you were aching from the endless effort to be seen, to be heard. You wanted to be looked at like your own person, your own successes. Hard to be noticed for something that rarely happened. No matter how loud you screamed, how much you begged, your voice was just lost in the noise. 

You knew Suguru would follow. He always did. Even if you didn’t live in the same house, he’d have followed you. His voice was muffled by the pressure in your ears but you could hear him trying to talk to you. He let you get all the way home and inside the gate of the house before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you backward. 

Trying to pull away, your shoulder wrenched painfully as you trashed in his grip. 

“Calm down,” Suguru spoke firmly, pulling you into his chest. His sweater was soft, and your face smushed against the fabric as sobs wrecked your body, trembling like the earth in an earthquake.

It was hard to speak through the tears, so all you could do was try and slip out of his hold as you sobbed. You didn’t want this comfort. You wanted to run from your failure. From how suffocating life felt and that no matter what you'd never be enough. Worse than that, the sweet sickly feeling that trickled down your throat that when he held your life this, it made the world feel just a little bit more bearable. As if somewhere you could survive another day if he kept touching you. It wasn’t yours to feel and he wasn’t yours to hold. 

Suguru lets you wiggle around. You hit his torso a few times, your strength fading as you cry. When your sobs turned to hiccups and gasps for breaths, he gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that still spilled from your eyes. 

“Talk to me,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. The songs of a city nearly eclipsing it. 

What could you say? How could you explain this feeling? This horrible guilt, pain, and jealousy ate away at you every single day. The tears came harder now, speeding up as if to help drown you in your misery and take you out of it for good. Hiccuping you drew breath, sharp and quick, hoping to speak but nothing comes out. Words claw at your throat, digging it with sharpened points. It hurts the way they hang onto you.

“Is it all too much again?” His voice is so soft, warm like fleece pajamas fresh out of the dryer as he holds you so delicately.

This wasn’t the first time that one of the three of you had been so consumed by dread, suffocated by the weight of life itself. Suguru knew it all too well himself, from high school to know he held it tightly in his hands. It never went away from him, he just learned to live with it, let it fade into the background, and let a constant hum of despair serve as the baseline for the day-to-day. 

His thumbs brush over the apex of your cheekbones again and the tenderness shatters you, another wave of sobs tearing through you. They pull you under, out into the open ocean, and through their rip current.

“I just..” you start, it scratches your throat, thick with phlegm. “ I can’t do this anymore.” 

His voice remained steady. “Do what?” 

“Any of it. I can’t do it.” 

“You’re capable of it. You can do it.” 

Jarring, rough, whipping across your skin as the rubber band pulls too tight and snaps. You lash out, and it stings where it hits. The anger cuts through your skin like your fingernails leave crescent moons in your palms. 

“No, I fucking can’t!” It's ripped out of you as you stalk away like a wounded animal. “I can’t okay. I can’t do shit. I can’t keep a relationship without being cheated on. I can’t manage to get my own place. I can’t get a fucking job. I can’t sit here and pretend like I’m not fucking wasting away in my own misery watching you and Gojo and Shoko all succeed and be the only one of us still shooting for the stars and coming crashing down to earth every single fucking time. You and Gojo with your perfect little lives look at me like a charity case to be fixed.”

“We have never looked at you like a charity case.” His tone was firm.

“Really? Then what the fuck do you look at me like, huh?” You press the question circling back around. “Is it pity? Did the two of you see some poor stray that you wanted to take in and keep like a pet when we met at university? Is that it?” 

His eyes were hard, unreadable.

“It is that. You pity me.”

“Jesus, no! We don’t pity you- I don’t pity you! Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?”

“Yes, it is! There’s no reason for you to care,” 

“What the hell wouldn’t I care?” Suguru’s voice raised to a shout, frustration cracking his facade. 

“Because I’m just like everyone you hate!” Your chest heaves as you let out a flood of emotions. “ No ambitions, contributing nothing to society, just leeching off others.” 

“You’re not like them.” 

“I am. On paper, I’m exactly like them. The only reason that you’d keep me around is because it makes you feel good to watch me suffer or you pity me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t pity you?” His voice cracked with emotion, but you didn’t stop.

“Then tell me why you care!” It comes out so desperately. You're begging him for understanding, to know why he stays. To know why he lets you in.

For once he looked uncertain. His mask slipped, revealing the cracks in his facade. It’s been so long since you’ve seen underneath it you’d almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t pretending to be happy. 

“Or is it that you don’t care?” 

Something flashed in his eyes, flickerings of things you only saw when he looked at Gojo. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. There's a fear in his eyes, like if he acts in this moment something may crack and crumble like the foundation of a house that leaves him crumpled in a pile of wood. He doesn’t, or won’t, give you an answer. 

So you turn on your heel, the conversation over in your mind, and head to the front door. You’ll go up and pack a bag before heading across town and crashing on Shoko and Utahime’s couch before calling your parents and groveling to them. 

But as you reach the door, Suguru reaches you. His arm wraps around your waist and he spins you around and pushes your back against it. He’s got you pinned. 

“It’s because I love you.” It’s the faintest breeze that passes from his lips, like a car driving past on a hot day, sweat making your shirt stick to you. “I care because I love you.”

Everything is frozen in a still frame. Neither one of you moves, neither one of you breathes. A still moment that holds you tight, threatens to squeeze you so tightly your heart bursts. 

“What do you mean by that?” You swallow as you speak, like pebbles in your throat. 

Suguru blinks back tears, looking up and then back at you. “That I love you. Fuck! I’m in love with you.” 

Disbelief makes your voice shake. “No, you’re not not. You’re with Satoru.” 

“And? I can’t love both of you?” 

“No, you can’t,” Hypocrisy tastes acrid on your tongue. You know damn well you could never pick between the two of them, that this blighted jealousy you feel towards them is more the fact they have the other rather than their success. It’s something you don’t admit but it’s there. “Besides, you’re lying to me.”

“No.” His response was firm and immediate. The whole time you’d known them, their worlds had revolved around each other. They’d been the only thing for each other for so long. It was an unspoken truth that they were made for each other in a way that could only be sewn by the fabric of the universe itself. Something so profoundly and divinely created it had been written in the fabric of life at the moment of the Big Bang. 

“I’ve seen you watching.” Suguru’s tone is low, cutting, it vibrates through you as he has you pinned. 

A sick, icy dread wraps around your spine. It starts in your toes and crawls up your body. Your muscles lock in place as it climbs up until it's all the way in your head. Paralyzing fear grips you.

“I don't…” The lie is transparent before it comes to fruition. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s brittle, cracking on your teeth as it passes through them.

“Don’t play innocent.” Suguru’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. The tension between you tightens and winds up to pitch, but there's a current that punctuates it. One that feels heady and warm. One that excites you in the same way it embarrasses you. “I’ve seen you watching. I’ve seen you for years. The first time, maybe it was a mistake. But last week? Three weeks before that?”

Your mouth went dry, choking on the excuse that tried to bubble up. Like finely ground chalk powder coasted every surface of it. “I—”

He cuts you off before you can even try to defend yourself. “I know you get off on it too. Leave your curtains open while you touch yourself. Saying his name, my name.”

Horror twists inside you like a knife, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. You’d always been so careful, never acting when you thought they were home. Never want to risk exactly this happening. Your face burned like you drank half a liter of vodka in a go. Maybe you’d wake up and realize this was a nightmare. The humiliation was unbearable. 

“Imagine my surprise,” Suguru continues in a low chuckle, left hand slotting perfectly against your waist, “when I came home early one day and saw that.” 

The tears that had stopped in your flash of anger spill hot and fast down your cheeks. The raw, hot shame and embarrassment muddle you. It makes you want a sinkhole to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. You can’t meet his gaze, your vision blurry. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll move out.” you stammer out, the words falling in a chopping spiccato, desperate to create space between the two of you. You’d never be able to face him again. 

“Who said anything about moving out?” Suguru comes, pulling you closer to him till you're flush against his chest. He bends down, breath tickling your ear. You feel the sharp pressure of his teeth grazing the shell of it, a jolt going through your body. “You don’t get to leave now.” Pulling back, he meets your eyes in a half-lidded gaze. 

Both of you are playing the game again. Looking for something unspoken, some cryptic clue you need to decipher. He was searching for discomfort, disgust, anything to make him draw back and stop. You searched for understanding, dissecting how it got to this point. Every moment, every glance, every touch from him that you had ever overlooked. 

He always held a soft glint in his eyes when he looked at you. Something subtle, normally reserved for Satoru. It warmed the edge of his voice when he spoke and crinkled the corners of his eyes when he smiled. There was that softness for Shoko, but it was different. The one he had for you was a more reserved, pulled-back, and dialled-down version of what gripped him when he looked at Satoru. He had always viewed you this way.

The times you sat sandwiched between him and Gojo, your legs brushing against him, his arm slung around your shoulders to reach Satoru. Pulling you against him on the train, in clubs, at parties, the bump of your hips against his own. Compliments when you wore flattering, his pushing Satoru to dress you up. He liked it best when you were in shorter dresses and skirts with tights. 

Suguru had always wanted you, but you had failed to notice. 

Instinct took over before reason could temper it. You pushed off the door, your hands flying to the loose part of his hair at the nape of his neck. The strands feelt just as silky an shiny as they look between your fingers. Without hesitation, the space between you two diminishes. You aren’t sure who closes the distance first, but your lips lock hungry. Teeth knocking against each other as you both desperately cling to the other. It's rough and aggressive, both of you starved animals feasting on flesh. The taste of copper spreading in your mouth as he bit down on your lip making you whine. His breathing becomes your own, heady mix of desire and dark, primal urge..

His tongue pushes against yours, taking advantage of your now open mouth, wet and warm brushing against the back of your teeth, laying claim to your mouth. Geto was dominating in all aspects of his life so it was unsurprising that he set the pace and led you to where he wanted to be. He moved your legs up, patting your ass to jump, to then wrap around his waist as he pressed you against the door. You grind your hips against his growing erection as he holds you there, and you can feel the heat of him even through his pants.

Suguru pulls away panting. His eyes are half closed, lips blushed a beautiful red and damp with saliva. He moves in again, this time to your neck, where he bites down hard. You squirm as he sucks a dark and angry mark, his mark, on your skin. The bite of his teeth against your skin feels right. It eats away at the jealous monster inside you every second he’s latched onto you.

Fed up with the door, Suguru opens it and carries you through the threshold. He moves the two of you through the genkan, toeing off his shoes while you kick your own off, and into the living room where he drops you on the couch. There’s an air about him, so intense it’s nearly oppressive, as his fingers inch up underneath your sweater, sliding it off of you. It’s a predator circling their prey, the success of a hunt now that he’s got you on your back against the soft fabric of the couch. He’d been waiting for this far longer than you thought and it spurs you on.

Suguru moves in tandem with you, tugging off his sweater and button-up shirt, exposing his happy trail. The dark dusting of hair makes your mouth water. Once his shirt is off, his hands cover your chest through your bra, palming your tits like stress balls. It's unpadded and lacey, and it lets him feel as if your nipples get hard. He pushes the cups down, leaving them to rest under your breasts, and pushes them up slightly, accentuated by your being on your back.

His fingertips close around your nipples as he pinches and pulls at them. You knew how much of a sadist he could be. One night you watched him edge Satoru for an hour straight. Seen how hot he looked with Gojo in his mouth as he writhed around. A sweet moan escaped you as he played with your nipples and rolled his hips against yours. It makes your head feel fuzzy, thoughts focusing purely on him. His weight presses down on you, so heavy and right it makes you ache.

You lunge forward, propping yourself up on your elbows to kiss him again. It’s just as messy and hungry as before, years of built-up desire between the two of you saturating your every pore. It settles in your bones that pulses in time with your heart. 

Suguru doesn’t separate from you, but he slides your trousers and underwear off in one go as you kick your socks off. He tugs his own off hastily, boxer briefs following in turn. His public hair is trimmed, a close crop like you’ve seen it before. Like every other aspect of him, it’s neatly maintained, put into its place, and kept there. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls your hips up by his head. Your back is half off the sofa as he places your legs over his shoulders and parts your core with his fingers. He blows cold air onto your clit that makes you squirm before he licks your clit. Moaning, you try to grind yourself against his face but his hands tighten on your hips, holding them firm. You’d get what he wanted to give you. Fight against it and get nothing, or accept it. 

He was slow to start. His tongue lazily explores you, getting familiar with your taste. It pushed against your clit, wide and flat, before swirling his tongue around it. The ball of his tongue piercing rubbed against the most sensitive part of you. Your hips jerk forward and he looks up, a warning in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop. Suguru curls his tongue again, this time moving it side to side, letting his piercing catch on your clit purposefully.  Every action he takes is measured as he picks up speed while latching his lips around it to add delicious suction. Two of his fingers slide inside you, reaching far deeper than your own ever could. He pumps them in and out of you, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt your pussy drooling, liquid gushing out and covering his chin. The muscles in your abdomen tightened with each passing second until you swore they'd cramp. It was all too much as you came, jerking and contracting in on yourself. Black spots dot your vision as your world shakes on this axis. 

Sugru watched as you came, pulling back from your pussy to stare at your face. His eyes never left yours as he rubbed soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He could cover nearly all of you with how big his hands were, warm and calloused. Minus a cold spot on his left hand. 

His engagement ring. 

The silver felt like it burned your skin as he smiled at you and planted a kiss on your inner thigh. It glimmers in the low light, bouncing light off like a homing beacon. Bubbling sickness, bile rising in your throat, disgust palming at your skin. What had you just done? You’ve just violated a boundary so gigantic with Suguru. Let your own selfish need for intimacy lead you to this. He was engaged to your best friend. They were getting married next year.

You rushed to grab your clothes, panic surging through you. The world spins around you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you buttoned up your trousers, throwing your sweater on. Your hair is a mess and your skin feels clammy and flushed. The need to vomit is overwhelming. “This was a mistake.”

Suguru’s rising from the couch, trying to grab you, stopping you from moving but you dodge his hand. “A mistake?” 

Your left hand meets your mouth as you bite the nail of your thumb. It clicks against your front teeth. 

“Satoru won’t mind-” 

“A mistake Suguru,” You shake your head, bending down and grabbing the rest of your stuff. “Please. Just forget this.” Without waiting for his reply, you run up the stairs and slam the door behind you. 

You really are a bitch.

©️ uzuzrimisery

[n64retro]

ポケモンスタジアム２/ Pocket Monsters Stadium 2 (Nintendo EAD, 1999), know simply as Pokémon Stadium (Nintendo EAD, 2000) in the Western markets, is the second entry in the series - the first to be released outside Japan, being the first to feature every 151 pocket monsters from the first generation. It is also compatible with all the mainline games from the first generation for the Game Boy to be played on the Nintendo 64 via N64 Transfer Pak.

[alexandriaisburning]

+005: Tetris Forever is marketing disguised as a documentary

CANON FIRE is made possible by the generous contributions of readers like you. Support more writing like this on Patreon. Thank you!

The latest in Digital Eclipse’s game/documentary hybrids, Tetris Forever presents a view of history that omits so much it’s nearly historical revisionism. Ironically, for a documentary about a Soviet export, Tetris Forever is more concerned with its capitalist success than anything else. 

Multiple chapters are spent on the saga of Henk Rogers’ acquisition of the rights to the game, the business deals that led to its financial success, and the total ownership that the Tetris Company finally achieved.

Rogers talks about buying out the remains of the Soviet ministry of computer technology, shutting down a successful Tetris clone keychain, taking ownership of Bombliss from designer--and Pokemon founder--Tsunekazu Ishihara, and it's presented as if they were inspirational stories, not ruthless business decisions. He even adds that he paid Ishihara 100 Yen per unit, “because it was the right thing to do”, even though he legally didn’t need to.

Tetris Forever’s narrative is not the story of Tetris, but the Tetris Company. It’s a story of great men doing great things, mythmaking for people who have very literally already bought in. You can see it in the collection’s roster of games, which only includes titles developed by Bullet Proof Software, games that Rogers had a hand in directly, and are outright owned by the Tetris Company.

For as much as they hype up the Game Boy as a key to the Tetris’ worldwide success, its absence leaves a gaping hole in what’s supposed to be a historical collection. Even if it's already well known to many, its absence makes it hard to take Tetris Forever seriously as a historical archive. 

Alongside Tengen Tetris, which they fought a protracted legal battle to bury, and NES Tetris, which has exploded in popularity recently with a number of world records, a growing competitive scene and a recreation in Tetris Effect, there’s several milestone releases that are not only not playable, but not given little focus in the documentary. 

The greatest of these omissions is easily SEGA Tetris. While Tetris dominated the console space in the West, SEGA’s arcade entry was highly influential in Japan, becoming the de facto representative of the series there, spinning off into competitive entries, and becoming the groundwork for several fan games of the time, and eventually Tetris the Grand Master. 

Together with TGM, SEGA Tetris would play a huge part in defining the “feel” of Tetris. Mechanics like lock delay, ghost pieces and wall kicks were created here, in arcades, then rolled into the official Tetris Guideline, the blueprint of what a modern Tetris game should look like. Rogers himself has said as much in other interviews. 

In leaving out those entries, Tetris Forever buries a slew of other stories. The stories of how a collaboration between ex-Street Fighter devs and Japanese comedians would change the series forever, how feedback from an office lady led to a game defining mechanic, and how the game would make an international name for itself years after its release due to streaming. 

Instead SEGA Tetris is limited to a single paragraph, a short video of Tetsuya Mizuguchi talking about watching it in arcades, and a summary basically saying “it’s influential” TGM and Arika are given even less, with the only comment being that TGM is known for its speed. It’s about the same level of attention as they give to the times they made Tetris cabinets that were REALLY BIG. 

And where are the stories of the NES game champions? THe ridiculous limitations that make the NES version uniquely difficulty to play, the absurd techniques that players developed to get around the physical limitations of the controller they play with? 

Where are the showcases of speedruns and high level competition? Why aren’t there interviews with the devs of different titles, like the experimental N64 entries from H2O Entertainment, or the composer of the CDI Tetris? Digital Eclipse had a chance to showcase the diversity of people and ideas that have touched Tetris, but all of that is barely mentioned, if at all. 

Licensing was surely a factor here, but as Tetris Forever points out, the Tetris Company has fought many battles over rights. Why stop when it's time to tell your story? 

Instead what we get itls historical revisionism by exclusion. A story canonizing what we already know, and leaving out the contributions of the many hands that have touched the game in the decades since its success. 

Tetris Forever would have you believe that's Tetris’ success is the story of Alexi Pajitnov discovering a diamond, and Henk Rogers convincing everyone it was valuable. But a gem's value isn't in its raw material but the refining process--something I'm sure the son of a gem merchant like Rogers would know.

Tetris’ refinements have come as a result of decades of community contributions. From fans making works in both official and unofficial capacities. Tetris is the story of a conversation between a game and its players. It's a cultural phenomenon built by many hands. 

Perhaps, comrades, that's the real legacy of what they once called THE SOVIET MIND GAME.

[estellamiraiauthor]

Not sure why I felt like writing this now, but just in case anyone isn’t clear on how “tariffs” are (not) going to help you, the average person:

Why you don’t see American cars in Japan

All imported cars in Japan are subject to an import tax that is… quite hefty. This is, understandably, to encourage people to buy Japanese cars and to bring in some extra tax money… win/win for the government and big corporations? It also means you see a comparatively lower percentage of Mercedes, BMWs etc. than in the US, but rich people are still gonna rich. Those cars, that have “luxury” name value and that are also of a higher quality than your average Corolla, still sell to a certain demographic.

But the most interesting side effect of this is possibly that… you just don’t see American cars here. I mean, you OCCASIONALLY do. But it’s NOTHING like the number of Toyotas and Nissans you see in the US, because in the US, a similar-sized Ford and Toyota are both good cars, of similar quality and similar price. In Japan, they’re still similar quality, but the Ford costs a LOT more. (There are other reasons as well, namely that Toyota makes cars with the steering wheel on the left for the American market and US makers don’t do the opposite for Japan… that’s an issue with the manufacturer though)

Note that the US government is not paying the difference in cost between a Ford and a Toyota sold in Japan. The Japanese government leverages the tax, the importer (Ford’s Japanese subsidiary or a licensed vendor, I guess?) pays the tax, and the importer PASSES THE COST DIFFERENCE ON TO THE CONSUMER.

So what would happen if the reverse applied in the US? The exact same thing would happen (except that Toyota would still make left-hand drive cars)… Toyotas would still be in the same general quality class as Fords, but would cost twice as much. Great for Ford, I suppose, but for the average consumer? It just means you have fewer options for a vehicle within your price range. And people who work at the US branches of non-luxury foreign car companies (because again, rich people are still gonna rich) are going to suffer. There’s really no upside for the average person. Even if you work for Ford, remember that “trickle-down” is not a thing. You’re not going to see a cent of any extra income the CEO brings in.

As a random aside, the other interesting side effect of the high import tax on cars in Japan is that Volkswagens, as they’re now slightly more expensive than Toyotas but still not as unattainable as a BMW or something, are seen as kinda “entry-level” luxury cars by a certain breed of upper middle class “not really Rich-rich but want people to think they are” people, who basically act like BMW owners in the States… do NOT park next to a Volkswagen in Japan.

TL/DR, tariffs only help the government and maybe CEOs. For you as the consumer, it just means fewer buying options.

[sorenblr]

on the off chance you like Dragon Quest, can you explain its appeal? Japanese people really like it from what I've read, but it seems to play second fiddle to FF in the West

I love Dragon Quest. I have a general JRPG brain illness that isn't confined to SMT. There's even a DQIII reference in Marsyas and the Vampyr...

Anyway, I think the appeal is self-evident: the Toriyama designs, the meat-and-potatoes simplicity, the emphasis on individual vignettes that lends the series an easy, almost serialized narrative tone, the relentless charm of it all- even Sugiyama's classical inspirations stand apart from the prog-infused soundscape of the genre. The English releases also benefit from localization, injecting color and accent that conform so well to the original tone that it hardly scans as adaptation. There is a character and magnetism at play here that no other franchise dares emulate. The series is somehow totally archetypal but completely inimitable. It's a very tidy balancing act.

The individual design elements are unremarkable - the ascetic turn-based combat centered on simple buffs and damage control, rudimentary dungeon crawling, barely extant character building except where the vocation system is present- but tend to cohere under this satisfying sense of polish and planning. And while there's more mechanical experimentation across the series than is evident at a glance, DQ still has a fundamentally conservative design ethos that sets it apart from "modern" JRPGs while ensuring a consistent reception from the more settled-in demographics: liking one entry in the series is no guarantee that you'll love the rest, but you're unlikely to be disillusioned going from one game to another.

It's also difficult to overstate the domestic legacy status. In the Western imaginary, the generic JRPG probably resembles a sort of desacralized FFVII. In Japan that image has always belonged to DQ (and more specifically DQIII), where its status as the progenitor of the genre is less clouded by the decontextualization that Japanese games experience during export- less so in the globalized present, but especially pronounced during the crucial formative years for both series. The emphasis on rudiments is something that's more permissible as a result.

But that comparison relates back to FF's dominance in the West, which is mostly attributable to the series' output during the fifth console generation. More expansive allowances for 3D representation created a demand for games designed around the cutting edge. This is the moment that FF cemented its modern reputation, across three separate entries*, as a series of constantly re-inventive, systems innovative, graphical-showcase melodramas. Meanwhile, the mainline of DQ greeted the moment with a single entry: DQVII, an infamously long and plodding game that married simple polygonal backgrounds with 2D sprites in a fashion that too much resembled the rustic SNES titles of the previous generation to suit the tastes of the average PlayStation Magazine subscriber. Debuting several months after the launch of the PS2 inflamed the issue. Considering the technocratic lust for graphical bombast that informed consumer demand at the time, it's no surprise that Western markets imprinted on FF. There's more at play there- from a marketing perspective, the diminutive peasant-protagonist of DQVII was at a disadvantage against Nomura's millennial aesthetic- but that's the thrust of it.

By the time DQVIII released, FF was already dominant, enjoying a consistent stream of profit from their MMO sector even as the wait between FFX and FFXII spanned the entire lifespan of the new system. With DQIX crafted for the DS and DQX being passed over for localization, the mainline series essentially sat out the critical transition to HD, so FF maintained its edge in the West despite increasingly troubled development and exploding production costs. Things have dovetailed neatly, with DQXI charting a series-best performance in the West, filling a niche for console JRPG experiences of this scale that has been largely unoccupied since the PS2 era. FF is meanwhile occupied with recreating, in a fit of Byzantine decadence, the very title that established its grip on the Western imagination.

*It hasn't enjoyed the same critical longevity as FFVII, but it really can't be overstated how acclaimed FVIII was at release, and the move to less abstracted, more 'realistic' models was crucial to that reception.

[gacha-incels]

South Korea's 'Gaming Kingdom' Falling Apart Due to '쌀먹' and 'Gacha'

Economy insight

CULTURE AND BIZ

published October 4th 2024 this I thought was just an interesting opinion and analysis of the Korean gaming industry which heavily features critique on gacha. it is originally in Korean and has been mtl and edited into english so it’s not going to be a 1:1 but the very basic info should be there. If you see any discrepancies please lmk and I’ll edit it asap. Thanks for your help and understanding everyone

South Korea was once known as a gaming powerhouse; it was a term that frequently described the nation’s gaming industry. Even today, games are the leading export in South Korea’s content industry. As of 2022, South Korea’s game export revenue reached $8.9 billion (around 12 trillion KRW), which accounts for more than 67.8% of the country’s total content exports.

Globally, South Korea's status remains strong in the gaming industry, ranking 4th after the U.S., China, and Japan in a global market worth 282 trillion KRW. Though there have been fluctuations over the years, South Korea has maintained this position since the early 2000s. From a numbers perspective, South Korea still stands as a gaming giant.

However, if you listen to voices from within the industry, the phrase "gaming powerhouse" is hard to come by. A brief look at industry trends reveals concerns about a crisis: "The South Korean gaming industry is in trouble" or "There's no more innovation." Why is it that despite boasting a much larger export volume and market size than K-pop or K-drama, the core of South Korea's content industry, gaming, faces such grim assessments?

Broken growth caused by an incorrect business model (BM)

The key to South Korea's gaming industry growth was PC online games, which spread with the high-speed internet boom in the early 2000s. At a time when other countries were settling into arcade or home console markets, South Korea entered the PC online gaming sector—a move that turned out to be a masterstroke. With a fast market entry ahead of other nations, South Korea took the lead, pioneering its own paradigm. But today, the industry is struggling to even maintain its domestic market, losing ground to countries like China.

Everyone in the industry knows why. The unique business model (BM) of the South Korean gaming industry, particularly the trade of game items, is seen as a major obstacle to growth. The term “rice farming” (쌀먹- note I went thru a bunch of translations of this and this is the one that I thought made the most sense in context.. if you know the actual set in stone translation lmk)—a slang term meaning “making money by selling game items”—reflects how making money through games has become a major reason for gamers' choices. Currently, 60% of the South Korean gaming industry's revenue comes from in-game item trades, showing how central this model has become.

The core of "rice farming" is the sale of in-game currency or items that allow players to save time on gameplay. Game companies have capitalized on this psychology, introducing probability-based items, also known as "gacha." Gacha, a system similar to a lottery, can reward players with rare items but is also highly risky. The system is often regarded as being close to gambling.

The gaming industry has desperately tried to conceal the fact that probability-based item models have elements of gambling or promote a gambling mindset. If public opinion were to focus on the gambling-like nature of these models, it could literally lead to the downfall of the entire industry. Since this "goose that lays the golden eggs" brings in massive profits easily, no one has been willing to sacrifice it, even though everyone knows it's a problem, making it difficult to change.

The issue is that this culture has dominated the South Korean gaming industry for a long time, severely damaging the overall diversity and competitiveness of the industry. The current crisis stems from a decline in trust in the gaming industry as a whole, following multiple allegations of manipulated probability-based items, which has subsequently led to a decrease in revenue.

Instead of focusing on enhancing gameplay or user services, companies have drawn in users solely with gambling elements, while users, motivated by the desire to make money, approach these games with a gambling mentality. This dangerous dynamic is the main reason why the gaming industry is in its current crisis. The fixation on a flawed business model has led to distorted growth, and the industry has so far stubbornly ignored the issue.

It’s not that there haven’t been calls for change. Many in the industry have been raising alarms, warning that continuing down this path will eventually lead to a collapse. However, market forces often silenced these voices. By 2023, the festering issues that had been ignored for so long have now grown into an irreversible cancer.

Today, Korean games are no longer judged by their content but by how well they incorporate gambling-like elements. One might wonder how this is any different from Japan's national gambling game, pachinko. This is the current state of South Korea’s gaming industry. What's even sadder is that all of this is a result of game developers knowingly turning a blind eye to the situation, blinded by short-term profits.

A Gaming Industry that Talents Ignore

Beyond the distorted growth caused by flawed business models, there are numerous warning signs for the Korean gaming industry. The most noticeable problem is the significant decline in competitiveness when it comes to developing new games. Recently, it has become increasingly difficult to find new Korean games making a mark in either the global or domestic markets. This issue has worsened since the gaming paradigm shifted to mobile platforms. In 2022, only one Korean game made it into the global top 10 for mobile game revenue. The domestic revenue rankings tell a similar story, with most of the top 10 games being either Chinese titles or mobile versions of games that have been in service for over 20 years. This clearly shows the lack of competitive new game releases.

Experts point to the distorted personnel structure of current game development companies, where decision-making is dominated by professional managers who often lack a deep understanding of games. They highlight that Korea's game development culture is plagued by rigid hierarchies and processes, rather than fostering individual developers' creativity.

Survey data shows that the average tenure of employees in the Korean gaming industry is only 2.8 years, and six out of ten game developers express dissatisfaction with their current working conditions. This stands in stark contrast to the foreign gaming industry, where passionate developers drive innovation with fresh ideas. The so-called "crunch culture," where overtime and late-night work are expected, is another major factor hindering the progress of Korean game development. The high workload, compared to other IT sectors, causes talented workers to gravitate toward other industries, leaving game development behind. This is not just a problem of individual developers' working conditions; it poses a structural threat to the future of the Korean gaming industry. Unless the industry escapes from its stagnant development culture, a resurgence for Korean games will be difficult.

The rapid pace of technological change surrounding games has also intensified the sense of crisis in Korea's gaming industry. When it comes to adopting and utilizing emerging technologies that drive next-generation gaming trends, such as the metaverse and blockchain, Korea has fallen significantly behind leading nations. The power that once positioned Korea at the forefront of game innovation seems to have all but vanished.

Industry insiders unanimously agree that the root cause lies in the complacency of game developers, who prefer to take the easy route and prioritize making quick money over embracing new challenges. This results in the industry circling back to its distorted business models. Looking at this trajectory, it's no surprise that concerns are growing over whether the Korean gaming industry can maintain its past glory in an increasingly competitive global market.

The Last Golden Time

For the South Korean gaming industry to recover, fundamental innovation is needed. The focus must shift from aggressive commercialization to delivering the intrinsic value of games—fun, emotion, and immersion. A drastic change in game design philosophy is required, prioritizing enjoyable experiences over pushing players toward in-game purchases.

Additionally, a flexible, autonomous development structure that values creativity must take root. Only in such an environment can future hit games emerge. Risky and innovative attempts should be encouraged, even at the cost of failure. More companies need to embrace new technologies and genres.

The road to reclaiming South Korea’s status as a gaming powerhouse will not be smooth, but if the industry collectively prioritizes the essence of gaming and takes one step at a time, the path to revival can open. Now is the last golden opportunity for the industry to unite for its future.

[aihoshiino]

The other day, I had a random thought about VTubers and OnK.

In Japan, VTubers are often considered a variation or splinter of idol culture. Hololive fans recognize that as a custom more honored in the breach than the observance, but the cultural connection is still there. (Look at the drama preceding Uruha Rushia's termination for a well-known example.)

VTubers also have a pretty obvious element of false persona, both in the typical "this performer is performing a marketable version of themself if not outright pretending to be someone else" sense and the "this performer is not literally an AI with a pink bow" sense.

The point I'm meandering towards is that VTubers have significant overlap with the substance and themes of Oshi no Ko, particularly since both B-Komachis are at least moderately familiar with streaming. (The new more than the old, but I'm sure we've all read 45510.) So it seems like a lot of the OnK cast would develop strong opinions about VTubers once they learned about them.

Do you have any thoughts about that? Whether Ai would envy their ability to cleanly separate their persona from their actual flaws, or Ruby would get snobbish about them being fake idols, or something?

So like the ask about streamers in general, this comes with the caveat that I don't really know shit about VTubers in general apart from things I pick up from being adjacent to VTuber enjoyer friends and also that I have HimeHina songs on my Spotify playlist lol. But I think in terms of least to most Opinionated:

Akane and Kana are probably equally Offline about it in that they know VTubers Exist but that's about it. Kana has like 2 seconds where she considers giving it a try now she has that fat ass gaming PC but the idea just slides right out of her brain because she doesn't really care that much. 

Aqua is also in the "sure, that exists" category but he's probably done editing and clipping work here and there just for some extra cash (since he says he was doing extra work online) and if clips or shorts come up on his feed he might watch one or two in a row but the rest of the time he literally forgets VTubers exist until reminded of them. 

Ai thinks VTubers are pretty cool but in a slightly befuddled 'gosh what will they think of next!' sort of way LMAO. I think it takes her a while to really understand what's going on with them because she gets a bit confused by the avatars and all the wild-ass lore, but when she eventually gets her head around it, she thinks it's a pretty effective way to split your public and private selves.

Mem and the StrawberryPro crew have a healthy respect for them as fellow creators! The agency probably manages a bunch since Miyako mentions them mostly pivoting to net talents and Mem's always on that grind and actually has had IRL collabs with VTubers on the official OnK youtube channel. LMAO

Ruby's last because I think she feels the most strongly and the most positively about them! For all the issues there are with the corpo structure, VTubing at its core (at least in the circles most adjacent to idol culture) is a space that afford opportunities to people who have what it takes but whose barrier to entry is that they don't fit into strictly defined 'mold' of idolhood - but most specific to Ruby, there are lots of 'idols' so to speak in the VTuber space who have disabilities that stand in the way of their taking more traditional roots to idolhood - IronMouse is one of the most famous, but there are plenty of others. I think this would be an incredible thing to see for Ruby who herself was cut off and robbed of her own dreams as Sarina and had absolutely no outlet for her passions or ambitions. I think she'd wholeheartedly support everyone and want to see them succeed! OnK AU where she wants to audition for Hololive or some shit WHEN

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

U.A. High School Field Trip Around Japan: Day 6 Translations

This is Day 6 of Shonen Jump’s special commemoration of My Hero Academia reaching one hundred million copies worldwide, which is being rolled out daily across one-week in each prefecture’s newspaper.

The schedule:

April 4th, Day 1: Hokkaidō & Tōhōku regions

April 5th, Day 2: Kantō region

April 6th, Day 3: Chūbu region

April 7th, Day 4: Kansai region

April 8th, Day 5: Chūgoku & Shikoku regions

April 9th, Day 6: Kyūshū & Okinawa regions

April 10th, Day 7: Nationwide release

You can see the illustrations on their website here, where they are released digitally the day after the newspaper release.

Here we go!

Kyūshū Region

Fukuoka

Photo credit: twitter user nika2_prpr

Hawks: "Aren't we all just dying for free time? I just want everyone to be happy, you know." Tokoyami: "That ambition is what I, too, wish to realize." Jirou: "He has a rockin' vibe even when sleeping, doesn't he!!"

Nanzo-in Temple is home to one of the largest bronze statues in the world depicting a reclining Buddha, called Shaka Nehan (Nirvana). The statue holds ashes of Buddha and two adherents, which were gifts from Myanmar as thanks for Nanzo-in's donations of medical supplies.

Saga

Photo credit: twitter user yukino_096

Ashido: "The squid are dancing!!" Tokoyami: "The squid, such speed!" Aizawa: "For drying a large amount of squid at once, it's a really reasonable method." Tokoyami: "A magnificent display of stormy turmoil!!!"

This is a fixture at Yobuko Town's morning market which rapidly dries squid by rotating in circles. The Japanese name, ikaguruguru, uses an onomatopoeia for going around in circles so you could call it a "squidy-go-round." Tokoyami uses the Japanese term for the German aesthetic Sturm und Drang. By the way, the term for dried squid, surume, is also used to mean something that grows on you over time. It's one of the most popular snacks in Japan!

Nagasaki

Photo credit: twitter user ssb_uchuubar_

Aoyama: "Merci for the million dollar nightscape~" Asui: "The night views from the sky are exception!"

Nagasaki is considered to have one of the top three best night skylines in Japan. You can visit Mount Inasa's Observatory to see it for free, but they got something even better!

Kumamoto

Photo credit: twitter user 18Miyakonbu

Sero: "Bakugou... did you do that!?" Kouda: "The mountain is burning!" Shouji: "Quick, put it out! Bakugou, you help too!" Nedzu: "Hang on! Dry grass being burnt down helps new grass sprout. This nurtures the animals as well. Humans and nature in symbiosis, that's what burning the fields represents!" Bakugou: "Hey, you bastards, APOLOGIZE!"

The city of Aso lights its mountain on fire every year as part of the Aso Fire Festival, a coordinated effort between farmers to replenish the fertility of their soil. My favorite part is that Katsuki doesn't deny that he blew the mountain up in flames... he's saying, "see, I'm helping, all right!!"

Ōita

Photo credit: twitter user im_mim_966

Kaminari: "Now then, who's getting in!! To soothe your travel weariness!" Iida: "STOP! Do you want to be boiled alive!? Swimming in the Blood Pond Hell area is prohibited!!" Kaminari: "So this is a 'bitterness of denied entry' type hell, then! (cry)"

They are trying to bathe in the Blood Pond Hell in Beppu City, where iron oxide and magnesium oxide mix and get pushed to the surface to turn the water blood red. Beppu is known for its Eight Hells, hot springs that are so hot (often greater than 200 degrees Fahrenheit), they are meant for viewing rather than bathing--hence their being called a "hell," not a "hot spring!"

Miyazaki

Photo credit: twitter user

Yaoyorozu: "The myth of Princess Toyotama and Yamasachihiko exchanging love letters has been passed down in Aoshima, so there is a legend that if you send a love letter with this postbox, your love will come true." Kaminari: "Make a postcard for me right now, Yaomomo!" Mineta: "Make me a hundred! It's my lifelong wish!!" Yaoyorozu: "It's just one apiece for someone special..." Postboxes in Japan are red, so this one, called the "Yellow Postbox of Good Luck," is unique. The couple Yaoyorozu mentions are from the Kojiki and Nihon Shiki, which contain some of the earliest written records of Japanese myths and ancient history. Poor Kaminari... he just asked for one!

Kagoshima

Photo credit: twitter user Door_20200783

All Might: "Continuing to watch over everything for all eternity!! This here, this is the Symbol of Peace!!" Izuku (mumbling): "It's a well-known fact among fans that All Might loves Yakusugi--" Izuku (out loud): "I'm thrilled we can all go together!! Right, Kacchan!!?" Kacchan: "I... Don't drag me into this!! (pleased, though)"

Yakusugi refers to cedars of at least a thousand years old on the island Yakushima, where there are dense coniferous forests with many old-growth trees. The most famous is the Jōmon Sugi, which is estimated to be at least 2,000 years old. Did Kacchan follow them on their tree tour, trying to not be noticed, and Izuku called him out on it~? Or did they companionably embark all together while he put up a grumpy front? Hee!

Okinawa Region

Okinawa

Photo credit: twitter user kkko25

Endeavor: "Shouto, how is it? How is the soba!?" Todoroki: "Okinawa soba is tasty." Endeavor: "RIGHT!? SHOUTOOOOOOO!! (joy)" Todoroki: "Let me eat in peace."

Unlike Todoroki's beloved mainland soba, which is made with buckwheat flour, Okinawa soba is made with wheat flour and is closer to udon noodles.

Aaand that's Day 6, the last release is the grand finale!

[dropintomanga]

AI Can't Be the Whole Solution for Manga

So this week I found out out a Japanese start-up called Orange, who wants to be the Netflix of manga by translating a lot of manga with new apps and tools for the world to fight against online piracy. And to do so, the company will use AI to machine translate all of their manga into English. They also received $20 million USD in funding (one of their investors is Shogakukan) for their goal. This company wants to release up to 500 titles a month at some point.

I honestly don't know how to feel about this.

I read a more in-depth report from Deb Aoki of ComicsBeat and Mangasplaining about this whole startup. There's a lot of tout given by Orange about how this will help the manga industry overseas. Terms like deep learning, accessible content, influencers, reducing cost of localization, etc. are thrown around. Orange already has done some work for Shueisha for some of its MangaPlus titles. While it's apparent that the North American market only gets a small fraction of the manga published in Japan, there's concerns over whether this endeavor will end well.

A good number of manga translators and editors in the North American localization scene have commented on how bad this can be. AI machine translation is far from perfect. While DeepL (a Japanese language translation app similar to Google Translate) is arguably better than Google Translate, there's still errors abound. AI machine translation doesn't seem to be at a stage where you can just show it off to the world and have it translate something like a research paper with context. And even if the translation was good, there still needs to be people to fix errors AI will miss and the jobs to fix those errors don't necessarily pay well since they're the equivalent of "data entry" jobs.

And speaking as someone who reads up on mental health news, AI is not good for picking up nuances and differences that can help people for the better. It's only good for standardizing universal treatments. AI can not be open to the vulnerabilities of other people. One recent story I read last year was about a eating disorder helpline that created a chatbot to help those with eating disorders and how it bombed. There were complaints about how the bot didn't address patients' concerns that they were feeling down or bad about their bodies. Even worse, the chatbot gave some horrible advice by telling people to follow behaviors that led to their eating disorders in the first place. The support staff was fired in favor of the chatbot and while the chatbot was taken down after the complaints, it still left a bad taste in my mouth because mental health problems can never be solved without the human element.

I see this with what's apparently going to happen with manga. I don't see this creating a better world for manga readers. I'm well aware that there are a few professional manga translators in the scene who aren't doing a good job, but I feel they're doing fine for the most part. There's a glaring issue though that most people aren't thinking about - the amount of content we have out there.

We're in a golden age of having so much catered to us that it's ridiculous. Anime, manga, webtoons, video games, board games, music, etc. There's a lot out there. And to have a Japanese startup proclaim that they want to put out up to 500 titles a month, who realistically has the time to read all of them? I wonder if that's the point of these ventures - beat down consumers with so much material to consume that they become apathetic to what's going on behind the scenes.

I do want people to read manga, but I don't want them to become so overwhelmed to the point of burnout and numbness. That's the last thing any manga fan should want. I'm already hearing complaints from my fellow manga peers about the amount of manga we're getting here. It's nice to see bookshelves and libraries filled with manga, but which titles are really being read?

I also think there seems to be no universal standard that EVERYONE can agree with regards to localization. You have the professional side that knows a lot due to being inside the industry, but can be hindered by the Japanese publishing side and pestered by fans who think they know better. And you have the fan side that thinks they know everything because of scanlations and miscellaneous fan translations.

If you're a professional, it's a rough job and I applaud all manga freelancers who do it. Sometimes, I may not agree with the localization choices. But I'm not going to raise a pitchfork and treat them like they're witches. I know a few of those folks in-person and see the human in them.

If you're a fan, you can't expect a very casual reader to understand Japanese terms being spoken out right off the bat. It takes a while to get used to those terms. I'll use myself as an example as a riichi mahjong player. I throw out terms like suji, kabe, mentanpin, ryanmen, etc. to my fellow players. However, if there's an absolute beginner I'm talking to, they will have no idea what the hell I'm talking about.

I know some fans are like "Whatever, understanding those terms make me stand out. Yeah, I'm different! Screw the normal world!" But that makes it sound like gatekeeping to a certain degree. It's fine to have that kind of knowledge, but binding it to the very fabric of your identity is not healthy when circumstances change.

Orange seems to want a universal standard for manga translation by incorporating a variety of people into their process, but the fact that people will only be involved AFTER the translation makes me skeptical and the company is being called out for some things on their website. Both professionals and consumers will be screwed here. AI is being pushed so hard by corporations because it can readily applied to real life jobs and regular people in many ways, compared to cryptocurrency/NFTs, which applies only to people with a crap ton of money to spend. I've seen instances of AI usage at the company I work at - some of it good, some of it bad.

But nothing will beat the will and heart of the people. I think that's what scares AI-promoting people. Turning us into total mindless consumers prevents us from being mindful people that want to do right by others. Sure, reading manga makes me happy. But I don't want to be the only one who's happy. I also want people to make informed choices about what to consume.

I also want some people to stop assuming that Japan is the most "anti-woke" country alive out of their rage against localization because it's totally not. Japan has problems and there's people living there speaking out against them. They're "woke" in their own way. I swear that almost everyone who thinks Japan is better than the West hasn't lived there at all and are basing things from a very filtered point of view. I actually feel sorry for them because their lives are just so focused on consuming without thinking for themselves - a perfect market for the AI-pushing crowd.

I'll finish by saying that this AI-powered manga translation venture needs to happen with the right kind of people already on the table through the whole process and where everyone benefits. Everything bad with AI, as far as I've seen, has left people behind with no compassion or empathy. Manga has taught the wonders of compassion and empathy for all and I don't see the Japanese business side of things preaching what their works speak.

[usamamoweek]

UsaMamo Week 2023 - Master Post

Thank you to everyone who participated, reblogged, commented, liked and gave kudos. Thank you to everyone who was a beta / cheerleader behind the scenes. This event turned out amazingly well and we are so happy to see both new faces and some old friends participate this year. (And don't forget about our "Meet the Creators" series, to learn a little more about people in this fandom)

To make sure none of the amazing works that have been created for this UsaMamo Week have been missed, we have compiled them all into this master post (in alphabetical order by the creator):

Stories:

@caelenath - UsaMamo Week 2023 - Day 4: Beach

The whole situation was any red-blooded man's dream—nine gorgeous women in swimwear, a dreamy sunset, and a legitimate excuse to ogle them from every angle.

But he had eyes for only one...

@daikon1 :

Moon Sake Bottle Action!

Somehow at a houseparty with Usagi, Mamoru feels totally out of his depth - until Minako suggests they liven things up a bit. But can an unusual talent for carnival games be leveraged into a kiss with his crush??

A Royal Audience

Once upon a time, there was an extremely self-centered mentor...

Ten Ways to Say 'I Love You'

A portrait of Usagi and Mamoru’s relationship over the years, told in letters, poems, and journal entries.

There Was Only One... Stowaway on the School Beach Trip

It was the perfect summer scheme... and then Mamoru had walked into the train compartment.

Mamoru's Anxiety: A Love Letter for Usagi!

Filling in a 'missing scene' from Usagi's Joy: A Love Letter From Tuxedo Mask - What does Mamoru think about Usagi receiving a love letter from his alter-ego?

Keyrings, and Chaos, and Gender Expectations, Oh My!

Galaxia may have been defeated, but the patriarchy is still alive and well. With some help from Sailor Moon, Mamoru has a few things to say about that!!

Fe(e)line

As Tsukino Usagi awoke one morning from pleasant dreams, she found herself transformed in her bed into an adorable kitty.

@goddessalthena :

Dear Mamo-chan

"I'll write. And I'll call," he promised. "So...I expect you to write me all the time."

"...I will," she vowed.

But only one of them kept their word.

Picture Perfect

It was a perfect day. Almost too good to be true.

Usagi & Mamoru share a few firsts as they bask in the first blush of young love.

@kaitoscarlett - The words I couldn't say

After their first night together, Usagi finds herself waking up alone in Mamoru's apartment. While waiting for him, she explores his book shelf and finds something, she probably shouldn't read.

@lilliebellfanfics :

Day 1: Kiss Game

Summary: Usagi and Mamoru are chosen as the next contestants in Minako's pop-up competitions. They expect something weird and zany like the previous ones... not a kissing game. Well, kissing or not, Usagi says bring it on.

Day 4: There was only one...

Usagi's investigating a series of energy bursts at Tokyo Dome City amusement park. With so many unknowns--what was the source of the energy? Was it Zoisite or a new enemy?--the last thing she wants to do is share a ride on the Ferris wheel with Mamoru.

Day 7: Midnight / Fireworks

"One thing I love about prompts is they get me writing for my WIPs! I bring you another scene from DFD, but this is much much later than the current arc. For reasons, Usagi ends up staying at Mamoru's place. Things get hot & steamy, and here's a scene from somewhere in the middle."

Day 5: Free Day

The Tsukino clan are about to hit the slopes as the next part of their winter competition. Usagi is a clear winner and she's excited to beat Shingo on the double black diamond and win points for her team... only Mamoru's never skied before. Shit.

(Also Christmas Markets and kissing)

@master-ray5 - Lips Of An Angel

Mamoru gets a call on his lunch break from his Ex in Japan.

@random-mailbox - Love Letter (Poem)

Poem inspired by the Stars arc in the Anime

@riverlethe - Game Night

Minako organizes (by throwing together at the very last minute) Game Night to help the senshi blow off some steam on a rare night off.

Rei picked a small red box up off the table. “‘Love Letter’?” she grimaced. “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”

@sailormoonandme - Year of the Rabbit. UsaMamo Week 2023

Unbeknownst to anyone else, Serenity and Endymion arrange a secret rendezvous on the beach. Manga Canon.

@speak-mnemosyne1 :

Trust

In a dark, cramped space with stifling air, something in the chemistry between two people transformed. The universe fell away and, in those seven minutes, actions had no consequences.

But this.. this felt more like Seven Minutes in Hell.

Magnolias

For the prince of Earth, there was only one girl in the entire Solar System with whom falling in love was forbidden..

Present

“Just for a year… but I may end up staying longer than that.” Mamoru tried to swallow back the words as they left his mouth. He hated lying to Usagi, hated the way her blue eyes looked up at him with oceans of love.

@spei-sidus :

Lucky Bunny

Day 1: Year of the Rabbit / Kiss Game

Forgiven

Sailor Moon is forgiven by Tuxedo Kamen for Serenity's final actions

An Ode to the Rose

Valentine's Day is coming up and the girls decide, since they weren't giving chocolates to anyone, to write love letters to give to their future boyfriends.

The Binoculars

A day at the beach leads Mamoru to ask Usagi out.

Free Day

Neo Queen Serenity goes back in time to go on a date with First Season Mamoru.

Like a Fairy

An injured Usagi leads the nijizuishou to not only replenish her energy, but also form the Ginzuishou.

Moonlight Musings

Some midnight musings for our roaming heroine.

@wishwars - Confessions Left Unsaid

At the end of Season 1, Episode 3 of the 90s anime, Usagi decides to write a love letter to Tuxedo Mask. What if Mamoru reads it?

Art:

@iiyasbssmdoodles - Day 6 - wings

@iamcharlotte88 - Three Levels of Kisses for Mamoru Chiba (artwork for @daikon1 Moon Sake Bottle Action! story)

@lilliebellfanfics - Day 2: Royalty, Day 3: Love Letters / Poetry

@mhanevision - Day 2 Royalty , Day 5 - Free Day "Barbenheimer" , Day 7 - Midnight (Happy Birthday Mamo-Chan , Day 1 - Year of the Rabbit (Happy Birthday Usako)

@mochibuni - Art for Epilogue (story Rocks in Space by @vchanny-og )

Images / Mood boards:

@random-mailbox - Day 1 - Year of the Rabbit , Day 1 - Kiss Game, Week Day 2 - Royalty, Day 2 - Sword, Day 3 - Love Letters / Poetry, Day 4 - Beach, Day 4 - There was only one..., Day 5 - Free Day , Day 6 - Wings , Day 6 - Crystal, Day 7 - Midnight, Day 7 - Fireworks

Podcasts:

@oshiokiyopod - UsaMamo Week 2023 Special Episode!

You can listen to the episode on Spotify, Google Podcasts, Apple Podcasts, Pocket Cast, and Podchaser (links to show pages in the platform names).

[decepti-thots]

not a meme question, but do you have a favorite pen? i don't know anything about them but you seem to, lol

I do, but my answer will differ depending on if you're asking my personal favourite pen or if you want advice as someone who doesn't use FPs as to what a good way to try one out is, anon! (sorry you just ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD)

I currently have six fountain pens, five of which are 'starter'/budget pens and one of which is a mid-range 'enthusiast' pen. My favourite I own is the latter. It's my Nahvalur Original, which I own in the Spring colour, and which cost me around £45. It's a pen designed to exclusively take bottled ink with a fancy filling mechanism, instead of ink cartridges. It's not high end by the standards of fountain pens, per se, but it's solidly in the 'enthusiast' realm. (My Dad, who once owned an FP because he needed something that looked good while signing Important Work Documents, did a double take when I told him how much it was, lmao. He did not ever spend that much on one pen.) It is a hefty, lovely thing with great build quality which I can use with fancy ink and feels great to write with. Nice nib, great quality, looks awesome.

But if you have never used a fountain pen, and want to try it, you do not need to spend over £20 or your local equivalent, fwiw. Many cheap fountain pens suck, but equally, many people who have spent thirty years collecting them who own pens worth hundreds will happily tell you, many cheap fountain pens are excellent, and noone needs to spend much to get an industry-gold-standard one. My second favourite pen is my Pilot Kakuno, which is aimed mostly at schoolkids in Japan where Pilot are based, can be bought for under twenty pounds shipped in the UK, similar prices in most of the world, and writes better than multiple 'adult' pens I own. Because Pilot has incredible high quality pen nibs and the Japanese FP market is competitive. You could easily buy just a Kakuno and be set forever with a pen that is extremely good quality! And there's other similarly great options too; there's a whole section of the market that is just 'good pens for newbies'. The Lamy Safari is a very famous option from a western (german) brand, for example. (Also have one of those, it's good.)

If you want to try fancy fountain pen inks with special qualities like sparkle or sheen, you'll probably need to put down a little extra money for a converter- basically a refillable cartridge that refills from a little ink bottle, instead of the disposable ones most stationary shops sell. But you don't need that if you're happy with the normal ink cartridges. All cheap fountain pens accept cartridges, though the better brands do tend to require you buy their cartridges, unfortunately.

And if you REALLY don't want to risk it: buy a Platinum Preppy. Platinum are a very well regarded brand, they use the same nibs in their entry level pens as they do their £30 ones, just with cheaper gel pen like bodies- and they are like. £5. Comes with a cartridge. Writes great, I own one. Again, a Japanese brand aimed squarely at schoolkids, very cheap but genuinely good to write with.

(The one thing for fountain pens I would say is, do spend the extra little bit on a cheap notebook with fountain pen friendly paper. Same as with e.g. paints, good paper is more important than the pen a lot of the time. The worst fountain pen in the world on good paper is better than a £500 pen on shit paper. Here is a guide; I use Clairefontaine.)

anyway sorry maybe you didn't want all of that. but if you think fountain pens sound Interesting and are curious, i'd encourage you to try one, but buy cheap. many cheap pens rule. and fountain pens are great- they are better than almost every other kind of pen for doing longform writing, because they don't cause wrist strain when doing it for long periods. i would definitely recommend a fountain pen over other kinds if you want to use it to write for long periods, no matter what pen you get, tbh!

[xinfinityl0ve17]

By Mana-sama

Nostalgic Game Inferno

The Xbox, which I will be discussing this time, made a striking impression with its beautiful, green-glowing icon that was visible beyond the earth sliced by an "X."

When the announcement of a new hardware invasion from America came i was excited back in 2002. At the time of the Xbox's arrival, the gaming market had seen Sega's Dreamcast defeated, while Nintendo's N64 and GameCube were struggling. The market had become a stronghold for Sony, led by the PS2.

Speaking of the PS2, it had a significant advantage with its DVD playback function. Even though the DVD market wasn’t established yet, the ability to play games and watch DVDs was quite impressive… Sony’s strategy was ahead of its time. Then, Microsoft which had dominated the global PC market launched an attack on the firmly established PS2 empire from across the sea! "Microsoft's game entry with immense wealth. They must be a terrifying enemy for Sony," I shivered at the thought.

The reason I felt this way was due to my encounter with the "ATARI 2600" from the American company Atari. I recall when I was still a young child. At a time when even the Famicom hadn’t been born yet I was familiar with games through a system at toy stores where I could play for a few minutes by inserting 50 yen. Despite being in such an era, the price of the ATARI 2600 was around 60,000 yen. It was an astonishingly expensive item for a child, and of course, I couldn’t get one. In the midst of this, the infamous "Atari Shock" occurred leading to Atari's downfall! This created a dark history in the gaming market with its collapse.

Now, back to the Xbox's invasion of Japan. The advertising campaign was tremendous. Leading up to its release, Shibuya was dyed in Xbox colors, creating a huge buzz! My first encounter with the actual Xbox was during an interview with Famitsu about the Xbox. I visited the Famitsu editorial department to be interviewed and got to see the console before its release!

As a result, the first American attempt at entering Japan ended in failure. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t the first attempt, but let’s leave it at that for now.Then, in 2002, a time leap occurred, marking the start of America’s third attempt at entering Japan with the black ship Xbox.

Why is it the third attempt? Because the 3DO, which I love dearly and discussed in the first installment of this series, attempted its second entry in 1994. Some might think it’s a Japanese-made game console since it was released by Matsushita Electric Industrial in Japan, but in reality, the 3DO is American-made. Japanese companies had licensing agreements with the "3DO standard."

Now, getting a bit sidetracked—my first impression of that black, square object was striking. It felt substantial, and a line forming an X ran across the middle. Inside it was a semi-transparent green dome of the Xbox, which gave it a presence that made me think, "This is really cool!" and I couldn’t help but shout that in my heart.

The only disappointment was that the green dome didn’t light up. If it had lit up, it would have been perfect. That said, the original Xbox is one of my favorite consoles.

[shintoinenglish]

Japanese New Year's Rituals

Hello! As the year comes to a close, I realized I haven't written much about our New Years practices. I thought I'd made a post about this before, but apparently I hadn't, apologies if the other post happens to be a real post instead of a figment of my imagination.

Cleaning: Clean before the new year! This is to prepare the house for Toshigami-sama (see below) and to end the year on a good note.

Ritual: If you have a Japanese market near you, buy a kagami mochi (mirror mochi). This is the vessel (yorishiro) into which Toshigami-sama, the kami of the new year, will descend. Doors are usually adorned with a smaller form of shimenawa decoration known as shimekazari in order to designate the home as a clean, sacred space ready for Toshigami-sama's entry.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Ideally, you also place kadomatsu by the doors, but this can be harder to obtain. This is a pair of bamboo ornaments, usually large, bundled in threes with various lucky decorations around the bamboo. There are fake bamboo versions in miniature sometimes available online. These are also vessels for Toshigami-sama to descend to.

Image from Wikimedia Commons

In Japan, families usually go to shrines or temples for the first prayer. In most other countries, this is obviously difficult, so I recommend either yohai (praying in the direction of a shrine you feel close to) or simply worshipping as usual at your kamidana. This is a good occasion to break out sake. Thank kamisama for health and life in 2023, and pray for a good, healthy 2024.

Food: Osechi food is the trademark of the new year. The contents of it can vary according to your family and any allergies or intolerances. Here are some recipes for anyone who wants to try! Another food traditional to the New Year Eve is toshikoshi soba, or "Year-ending Soba Noodles". The length of the noodles is associated with longevity and health.

I wish you all a happy holidays!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wait does that mean... the reason why lilia always wore long sleeves, because he had tattoo all over his body ????????

It might also be an inner clothing but... lilia with tattoo is just 👀👀👀

[Referencing this post!]

Oh, are you talking about the thorny pattern that seems to be on Lilia’s shoulders in his past self? I don’t think those are tattoos; it seems like that’s just the pattern on the sheer material in that area (like the example shown above!). If you look at Lilia’s Beastly Garb Groovy, you’ll see that there are no such markings on his shoulders.

I believe in Japan, tattoos are considered taboo to the point where many public establishments and homes will deny entry if patrons/guests have a tattoo visible. This is because (in the past) tattoos were once used to brand criminals so that others could take a look at someone and know that they’ve committed a wrongdoing. Tattoos are still largely stigmatized (especially by the older, more conservative population) as signs of delinquency and relation to the yakuza, not seen as a “hot” things. Some Japanese youths are bucking back against this belief, but the tattoos they get tend to be small and easy to conceal so as to conform with the social rules of Japan.

TWST does take place in a fictional world (so irl cultural practices and expectations don’t always translate to Twisted Wonderland), but the developers and artists themselves are still Japanese (and tied back to D*sney, which most likely wants to remain “family friendly” and marketable). As a result, it’s probably unlikely that we’ll see the TWST characters with tattoos in any official capacity (unless it’s maybe to project the aforementioned “bad boy”/delinquent persona, a la Leona).