#Luxurious Ready to move Homes in Nara

[jouissezduprintemps]

Something to Gain, Chapter Six: Love to Love Her

Rating: T Words: 3130 Fandom: Naruto Summary: Sequel to Something to Prove. Shikamaru and Temari navigate their relationship now that it’s in the public eye.

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The emerald green fabric hung loosely from Temari’s hands as she stared at it, as though it was the answer to her problem. She was heartbroken; Baki had never treated her like that before, never looked at her that way. She’d caused him pain, and she couldn’t even tell him that it was all a lie. For the sake of her village, she had to continue with the ruse. Her only father figure thought she was reckless and irresponsible, that she was selfish. She could be; she couldn’t deny that. Her pregnancy might be fake, but Baki didn’t know that. His disappointment cut deep, and she couldn’t help but internalize it all.

She dragged her thumb over the edge of the baby blanket, losing herself in the sensation. She had gone looking for the one gifted to her, but she’d opened the wrong package. Now, she sat with her back against the living room wall, amidst piles of gifts she didn’t need or deserve, torturing herself.

Until now, she’d chosen to live blissfully unaware of the rest of the hurdles that remained if she wanted to stay with Shikamaru.

Baki had grilled her with questions. Where would she live? Where would he live? Was she keeping the child? Where would the child grow up? Would Shikamaru be a part of its life? Was she willing to sever her third of the bloodline from inheriting the position of kazekage?

These questions weren’t as urgent as Baki thought, but they swam in her mind as she sat in silence. If she was truthful with herself, she was lucky she hadn’t become pregnant at all. She’d been thoughtless. Confident in her solitude due to the late hour, she balled the soft blanket in her hands and held it to her chest in a form of comfort.

How far was he willing to go for her? This was the question that shook her to her core. He loved her. This much, she knew. He didn’t love easily. Neither did she. Yet, she loved him back. It had been a long time coming, years of skirting around the obvious and trying to keep things simple, because it wasn’t difficult. Because they didn’t have to ask these things.

She’d made her decisions. She just hadn’t realized it until Baki asked the right questions. There was a ready, thought-out response to each of them, but she kept them to herself during their one-sided discussion. It broke her heart to know herself that well. She felt like a traitor, an ingrate. She was ready to abandon her village, her people, and her birthright for him. She would leave her brothers and uproot her life for him. She’d take his name and become part of his clan. More than anything else, she knew she’d never look back.

He was asleep in her bed, unaware that she’d even gotten up. Whenever she chose to return, he’d be there. In her life, she’d never had such certainty. Now, he was a constant. They needed to talk, but she was reluctant. She hated being vulnerable. When she shed tears in front of her brothers, Baki, Shikamaru, and her friends, she was ashamed of herself. She was Temari of the Desert. She was stronger than that.

A part of her stopped to wonder if Temari Nara could be the same woman.

Her fingers tightened their hold on the blanket, seeking comfort. This theory of a life, this far-off possibility, had held a mirror to her present and her past while forcing her to consider her future. For twenty years, she’d lived for herself. She’d taken risks and did what she liked because her life was hers and hers alone. Was she willing to share it, to take on that responsibility?

Her heart caught in her throat, because she knew the answer.

She rose to her feet and tiptoed back to her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her with one hand, the blanket still in the other. Shikamaru lay on his back, sleeping like the dead. She smiled to herself at the sight, both amused and comforted. Trying not to move too much, she slipped back into her spot, thankful that her companion’s body heat had kept the bed warm. She lay on her right side, worrying the silk edge of the blanket.

Shikamaru shifted in the bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. His face nuzzled in the crook of her neck as he murmured sleepily, “Nightmare?”

“Can’t sleep,” Temari admitted.

“Baki?” he asked, anger clear in his sleep-laden voice. He’d lost his cool when Baki struck her, and it took everything he had to regain his composure afterward. He had yet to confront the Suna jonin, but he planned to in the near future. He was still confused as to why Temari allowed her sensei to act the way he had, or why she’d reacted so poorly.

“In a way.” Temari rolled over, and Shikamaru took this as a sign to lie on his back. She placed her head on his chest when he did so. His fingers brushed gently through her hair in a gesture of comfort. ��I let him walk on me. I don’t know what happened; I just froze. It was like I was nine all over again.” She paused. “I think I convinced myself I deserved it. When he hugged me, he felt like Baki. But, when he hit me… it felt like my father.”

“Shhh.” Shikamaru moved his head to press a kiss to her crown. “He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.”

“You say that, but I swear to you, that wasn’t Baki.”

Shikamaru held her close, aware that she was entangled in her trauma. Of course, the dead stay dead, but her logic and emotions had a difficult time crossing pathways when she was reminded of how things used to be. Her reaction made more sense to him now, but he was just as angry with Baki for bringing out this reaction in her. “I’ve got you.”

“Shikamaru?”

“Yes?”

“What would you do if I was actually pregnant?”

“You’re not, are you?” he asked cautiously.

“No, but if I was.”

“I’d do whatever you asked,” he admitted without hesitation.

“I wouldn’t ask for anything.”

“What does that mean?” Shikamaru arched an eyebrow, reluctant to find out what she was implying.

“No, not like that. Obviously, I wouldn’t cut you out, idiot.” She poked him in the ribs for good measure, trying to make him relax. “I was thinking about it. It makes sense for me to move to the Leaf; there’s Gaara and Kankuro to carry on our clan, and you have to stay to lead your own. My brothers could manage without me. Konoha needs you. So, I wouldn’t ask for anything, because it isn’t practical for you to give anything.”

She wasn’t wrong, but guilt sat heavily in the pit of his stomach. “This is your home.”

“I know, and I’d miss it. But, that isn’t enough to keep me here.”

“It’s three in the morning, Tema. You don’t need to be making snap decisions.”

“Stop trying to dismiss me,” Temari’s voice turned serious. “Let me say this while I can, before I get too wrapped up in my head to say it. Everything I have here, I need you to know that I would turn my back on it if you asked me. There’s no one else I would do that for. You need to tell me that you understand, that you’re just as committed as I am. Because I would leave tomorrow if you wanted me to, but I’d be giving up my life for you. I know you don’t take that lightly, but I need to hear you say it.”

“If you weren’t worth the trouble, I wouldn’t be here.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a half-smile. “You know, I was prepared to do the exact same thing if Lady Tsunade said no to our request. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m in this just as much as you are.”

She traced patterns on his chest with her fingertips. “So, what does this mean for us?”

“For now, it means going back to sleep. I don’t make any major life decisions before noon.”

Gaara ran his fingertip around the rim of his coffee cup, savoring the few hours he had before the rest of the house awoke. As long as he’d been alive, he rose before the sun. This afforded him one of his few, cherished luxuries. He sat cross-legged on the wooden patio outside his home, bare feet tucked underneath the excess fabric of his sleep pants. The morning wind bit against his bare shoulders, dry and effortless in its movement. He closed his dark-rimmed eyes and took a drink from his cup, feeling the warmth descend into his stomach.

He sensed a presence approaching, and he didn’t bother turning around. He beckoned with his left hand. Anyone who paid a visit to the house at this hour was sure to be looking for him, and him alone. His sandpaper voice still gravelly from sleep, he spoke for the first time that day. “Why are you here, Sensei?”

Baki took a seat beside the kazekage, and his age showed in the awkwardness of his movement. He wasn’t terribly old, but years of wear from missions and training did a number on his joints after all this time. “I came to apologize to Temari.”

Gaara blinked, looking at the sunrise that had just begun to creep into the sky. “No, you didn’t.” He tapped his index finger against the ceramic mug. “You know she doesn’t get up before eight, if she has the choice.”

“I wanted to talk to you, first.”

“Hm.”

“I want to know what you think.”

The young man bought himself a moment as he swallowed from his cup. “I think you were out of line,” he said bluntly. “I think you let your emotions get the best of you. I know you hurt her more than you realize.”

The words stung, but Baki knew he deserved to hear them. He remained silent, which Gaara took as a signal to continue.

“You realize that you would never have been able to lay a hand on her if she didn’t want you to.” Gaara looked to his side, expression cool and emotionless. “I don’t pretend to understand it, but she allowed you to hit her. You mean more to her than you realize, Sensei.”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, but you did.” Gaara sat his cup down in front of him on the wood. “By doing so, you’ve made a poor impression on Shikamaru.” He hesitated, a rare occurrence for him. “Sensei, you can view us either as your family or as the rulers of this village. You can’t do both. You welcomed her relationship with Shikamaru, and yet, you turned your back on her at the news of a pregnancy. You have to make a choice, Baki.”

His kage’s words hung heavily in Baki’s chest. Even at seventeen, Gaara had the wisdom of a man eighty years his senior. The pair sat as the sun rose over the walls of the village, and Baki remained in meditative thought until he came to a decision. “Family.” The word was almost a whisper.

“Hm?” Gaara inquired, his gaze still on the horizon.

“Forgive me, Lord Gaara,” Baki placed his hands on his knees, sitting up straight. “But if you ask me to choose between the three of you and this village, I will choose this clan every time.” He waited for his reprimand, but his kage only smiled to himself.

“Of course.” He had expected nothing less. He was now assured that Baki wasn’t the source of the information leak; it was clear that he wouldn’t put their lives in danger. Choosing Temari over the village was a bold move on his part, one Rasa would have branded him a traitor for. Baki hadn’t said it lightly. He tucked his feet underneath him and pushed himself up, standing without the use of his hands. Silent as a mouse, he padded behind Baki in the direction of the door. “Come inside, Sensei. There are a few things we need to discuss.”

Temari decided to give up on sleep when she awoke for the fifth time that morning since her talk with Shikamaru. Reluctantly, she left the warmth of her bed and picked up her shorts from the floor, tying the drawstring loosely around her hips. On bare feet, she strode down the hall and into the kitchen, intent on breakfast and coffee to get her through the morning.

Unsurprisingly, her baby brother sat at the kitchen table, nursing what was surely his third or fourth cup of coffee that morning. The serenity of the scene was torn away when she noticed Baki. She scowled, remembering how unlike herself she’d been the night before. She was normally so levelheaded, but in a moment of weakness, she lost her composure and self-control. She’d been weak. It wounded her pride and served only to fuel the fire just beneath her skin. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

Wordlessly, she walked past the table as she made her way to the counter, radiating cold indifference. The negative energy made the hair on the back of Baki’s neck stand straight. She wasn’t going to break the silence.

Baki swallowed his pride. “Tema,” he began.

Temari ground her teeth as she fired, “Not now.”

He knew she wasn’t wrong. Gaara sat in silence, refusing to weigh in or contribute to the conversation. After a pause to think over his words, Baki tried again. “I came to say I’m sorry.”

“Good.” She went about her menial task in the kitchen, not giving him the grace of looking him in the eye.

“I need you to understand. You three, you’re like my own children-”

“But we’re not,” Temari stated flatly, turning to face him. “I forgot that last night. I am a jonin of this village. I sit on the council. I am Rasa’s daughter. I’m not some weak woman for you to scold or discipline.” She held up her hand, keeping Baki from interrupting. “I was weak, for just one moment; I forgot that you don’t have the right. Look me in the eye and tell me you would have done the same to Kankuro or Gaara. None of this would matter if I was male, and you know it.”

“You’re right,” Baki admitted without hesitation.

“Let me be clear. If you ever attempt to strike me again, I will retaliate. Not you or anyone else has a say in how I live my life. I fought for that right.”

Seeing that she was finished, Baki decided to repeat his initial statement. “I’m sorry. I reacted the way your father would have. That alone should have told me I was wrong.” He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, working away a headache. “As I told Gaara earlier, there’s no question for me anymore. You three come before this village. That’s who I am. I was so focused on what Rasa would do that I didn’t think.”

“If I wanted my father’s opinion, I would have gone to his grave.” The growl in Temari’s words told just how unlikely that was. “He’s not a part of my life; you are.”

“Rasa aside,” Gaara interrupted, lacing his fingers together, “I know now that we can trust that Baki isn’t the leak. He deserves to be filled in.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Temari insisted, catching her brother off guard. “There are a few more things I need to talk about with Sensei.”

It had been more than an hour since Gaara had excused himself from the kitchen. Baki’s appearance was a hitch in his morning routine, but he made do by sitting on the floor by the coffee table, where he spread the documents he’d brought home. Thus far, he hadn’t heard any shouting or arguments from the kitchen, which he hoped was a good sign. The serious miscommunication between his sister and their sensei would have caused a rift between others, but their small unit had too many ties to be torn apart so easily.

Temari was sure to be truthful with Baki now that he left them alone, but Gaara was sure that Baki would take it in stride. Emotions ran high the night before, and he hoped that they could come to some sort of reconciliation. He drummed the end of his pen against the wood as he let his eyes roam the room, settling on the haphazard pile of gifts they didn’t need.

He stood and walked over to the menagerie, where he bent down and picked up torn shreds of parchment. After a moment, he decided not to pry. He gathered the paper and brought it to the trash can, knowing it was best to do so before anyone else had the chance to notice.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Baki admitted as he extended his hand across the table, covering Temari’s. He gave it a soft squeeze in a rare physical gesture of reassurance.

“You couldn’t have.” Temari sighed, shifting in her chair. “I mean, I’ve thought about it, but I didn’t know before last night.”

“The council isn’t going to make this easy for you.”

“I don’t care, Baki. I know what I want now. I don’t give a shit about the council. I don’t want to be kage, and Kankuro and Gaara can carry on the bloodline if it’s so important to them. I’m tired of a group of old men telling me how I’m going to live my life.”

“Watch it,” Baki warned, trying to joke.

“You know what I mean.” Temari shook her head. “I’ve made my decision.”

“Have you spoken to him about it?”

“In theory. We haven’t made any plans.”

“Will you?”

She nodded. “I just don’t know when.”

“My advice is probably the last thing you want right now, but the sooner the better.” Baki paused before adding, “I need you to know I’m sorry about what happened.”

“I know, Sensei.”

Baki stood and walked to her side, draping his right arm over her shoulders, his hand on her upper arm. “I love you, Temari. You three are like my own. Things just got… muddled. I was afraid you were throwing your life away. But I know you better than that. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

She let her head rest against his side in response, showing her forgiveness.

“Sandstorm?”

“Hm?” Temari hummed.

“You know you’re my favorite.”

She smiled her wide, toothy grin. “Yeah, I know.”

[bicyclingaround-blog]

First contact: Japan

My grandparents emigrated to Brazil after the 1st World War.  My dad's first language was Japanese in the Brazilian countryside.  It was only when he was 8 that he reached out to learn Portuguese.  The impression that I have of my grandfather, a poet and a language teacher who I only ever met briefly, from what I am told is that he moved to Brazil in the hope of making money and then be able to move back to Japan.  He never adapted to this new culture and suffered tremendously.  He was an alcoholic for most of his life, leaving the weight of the family on my grandmother's shoulders and subsequently on my father's as he was the second eldest child.

I was never taught Japanese and even within the Japanese half of my family Brazilian culture prevailed.  One of the strongest links were my grandmother, she would always rent out Japanese cartoons for me to watch whenever I was in her house.  Doraemon was my absolute favourite.

This year, I set foot in Japan for the first time in my life.  It happened as I had always planned, it was a trip I wanted to do with my dad.  I have always anticipated this moment of my life, always imagined the feeling of recognition, the sense of "returning" that I would get.  Strangely, it was not like that at all.  Weirdly the 50% of my genetic makeup didn't shout "I'm home" in my ears but as we moved from the city to the Japanese countryside I was definitely moved and the land did pull at my heart strings nonetheless.

As always traveling to me means making contact with the local tarmac with my two wheels and to be propelled by my food fueled motor, so it may be a hassle and an extra expense but I took my bike with me.  Traveling on the Japan Rail was immense and dreamy but being on the bike is just like having a thinner condom on and contact is that much closer and pleasurable.

Thanks to the generosity of local friends,  Christoph and Kenji who share our love for bicycles, our first real ride (none of that alongside the river bs- just kidding the ride alongside rivers in Osaka and Tokyo are great escapes from traffic, great for training in the city) was the most beautiful misty mizzle (and hard) ride from Osaka to Kyoto.  Japanese roads have amazing tarmac and once you are out of the stop and start of the cities' traffic lights the flow is so enjoyable!  There is a heck of a lot of climbing to be done but with vending machines with hot and cold drinks everywhere you are pretty much sorted in a land of convenience.  Hot teas were a life saver when we were up on the mountain soaking wet and freezing getting ready to descend.

-Jonathan, Kenji and Cristoph

Figuring out routes in a foreign country can be tricky so inside knowledge is absolutely invaluable.  Kenji and Christoph not only took us on an awesome ride, got wet through together but also lent and helped us rinko our bikes while what all of us could think of was a hot bath or Onsen!

In Japan to take your bike on one of their amazing trains you have to lightly pack it in a shell.  It is a bit of a pain in the ass but it makes complete sense not to muck up the spotless trains or the suited city workers that pack a train to the brim in rush hours.  It seems to me that to be a cyclist in Tokyo and to escape the limit of the traffic lights a rinko is a ticket to freedom and if you have a good one, like Christoph has, the Fairmean Rinko you are rolling and laughing.

After landing in Narita from London and spending a few days in Tokyo we made our way to Odawara Station and took a bus to Hakone to see Mount Fuji.  We spent two days in Hakone in a traditional Ryokan (Japanese Inn) which was a super amazing experience.  The weather was super overcast and got progressively worse as it snowed pretty much the whole time we were there so we didn't manage to see not even a hint of FujiSan.

We carried on travelling, not always with the bikes available as I was couriering my bike to the next big cities and Jon was renting.  It is a bit of a luxury to be travelling by train and couriering your biggest luggage so that you don't have to carry it around! In Japan they have a service called the Takkyubin and they deliver your bag to your next destination for you.  As we were not in a cycling exclusive holiday-  I was travelling with my family and fitting riding whenever I could- it made sense to use the service.

We made our way through Takayama, Kanazawa, Osaka, Nara, Kyoto, Hiroshima, Miyajima and back to Tokyo.  As we were back in Tokyo all we wanted to do was get out to the countryside to ride!  We took a train to Odawara at around 2pm, desperate for a little climb and to see Mount Fuji.  We knew we were cutting close but threw ourselves anyway.  With 4km to the lake where we knew we might have a view we were against the setting sun so reluctantly decided to turn around and head back to the train station.  Jon came across a blog called http://positivo-espresso.blogspot.co.uk/ which helped a lot in figuring out where we were going to ride next.

Apparently there was a good ride from Takao station to Lake Yamanaka-ko.  Not only was it a ride not to be missed but there would be the chance of finally seeing Japan's postcard volcano!  We set off early and got rinko'ed up- I got myself a mont-bell rinko, that after having experienced the Fairmean rinko I felt left loads to be desired and Jono had an Ostrich rinko which RCC Tokyo kindly let us use.

Holy Moly were we pleased we went on that ride.  Gentle gradients meant we were climbing for a looooong lovely time.  The weather was a little unstable and we were worried that we weren't meant to feast our eyeballs on the famous FujiYama on this trip.  As we arrived in the village of Lake Yamanaka-ko as a game of optical illusion clouds overhead turned into the snowy peak of a giant volcano towering over the electricity cables of the road we were riding.  It blew my mind and heart and I started crying like a baby!  Finally! 3rd time lucky!  A sight like that makes life alright again, it makes everything worthwhile - especially if you sweat your balls or ovaries off to get there.  That's the beauty of cycling...it gives an even deeper and more connected meaning to the reward that the natural beauties of the world are to the eyes. I love Japan and feel that I only caught a spec of what the country is.  Traveling is always one of two things- a brand new experience or a sense of return.  Both are beautiful sensations and bring expansion to the being.  I definitely want to return to Japan and have brand new experiences there.  Its like the world is a wants to be explored but it only reveals itself when it feels like it...that's part of what makes it magic.

[chemicalperfume]

Nanami Hiroki Personal Book: 100 Questions [translation]

Today, January 16th, is everyone’s favourite cheesy lines generator, Nanami Hiroki a.k.a. Kai’s birthday! Here is a thing in celebration (that I had -for once- conveniently forgotten in my drafts forever, and just now remembered). Happy Birthday, Kai! :D

Coffee or Tea

Morning or Night

Stars or Moon Back in grade school, I did a project on shooting stars

Meat or Fish I love Yakitori and Karaage

Baseball or Soccer

Spring or Autumn

Summer or Winter When it’s cold I can just pile on the layers, but in summer, no matter how many clothes you take off, it’s still hot! I can’t stand the heat.

Dogs or Cats

Hot springs or amusement parks

America or Europe

Red or Blue

Western movies or Japanese movies

The mountain or the sea

Sushi or Ramen

Sauce*(Worcestershire) or Soy sauce

Mayonnaise or Ketchup I use neither.

Udon or Soba noodles I love Inaniwa Udon.

Countryside or big city

English or Math

Vertical writing or horizontal writing

Texting or Phone call

Japanese sweets or Western sweets I like both, but I love chocolate so, western sweets it is.

The Tale of Genji or Shakespeare

Bread or White Rice Love savoury stuffed bread. Hate sweet buns.

Plane or Ship Being in transport for extended periods of time is agony. If it’s for an hour or so, then a ship.

Alone or in a group

Color or Black & White photography

Getting married japanese style or western style

Hokkaido or Okinawa No can do hot weather *laughs*. Give me cold instead.

A hot or lukewarm bath

Japanese or Western style room

Silent or Chatty

Outdoors or Indoors

Resort Hotel or Luxurious Ryokan I really love this feeling they have of offering attentive service to each and every guest.

Coarse or smooth sweet red bean paste

Elevator or escalator

Ballpoint pen or mechanical pencil Are there really people who go as far as liking or disliking either of these? *laughs* I don’t really use mechanical pencils, so the pen.

Roses or Orchids I love blue roses.

Tamagoyaki or Sunny-side up eggs Tamagoyaki and stock flavoured!

Rings or Watches

Bus or Train

Close-up or full-body photos I prefer taking a step back and taking medium shots

Sweater or blouse

Cleaning or Laundry Laundry is the one I still do. *laughs*

Preparation before cooking or cleaning up afterwards

Heavy or light futon How do people who prefer it heavy exist?!

Hard or soft pillow

Scuba diving or sky diving I want to do both! Since I like swimming, I guess i’ll pick scuba diving. I am a-ok with jumping from high places too.

Newspaper or Magazine I often flip through men’s magazines for research purposes.

Japanese liquor or wine Lately it’s white wine.

During winter, kotatsu or air-condition

Cookies or senbei

Okonomiyaki or Yakisoba

Nishikori Kei (tennis player) or Hanyu Yuzuru (figure skater)

Military uniform or Tailcoat

Lace or Velvet I don’t really like lace.

The Orient or The West

Green Tea or Oolong Tea

Roller coaster or Ferris Wheel

If you could hire one at home, a cook or a personal masseur Personal masseur all the way!!

In transport vehicles, window seat or aisle seat

During a discussion you mostly talk or mostly listen

Clothes with a flashy colour but plain design or clothes with a plain colour but flashy design

When staying in a hotel, high floor or low floor

A house with a big garden or a high-rise apartment with a beautiful night view? Taking care of a big garden is hard work so the high-rise apartment!

Nara or Kyoto

Arashi or Kanjani8 (boybands)

White or Black

Elisabeth of Austria or Marie Antoinette

Tragedy or Comedy I prefer playing tragedies but watching comedies.

Would you rather go to the future or the past? I want to watch the Earth being born on fast forward from the outside *laughs*

Tokugawa Ieyasu or Oda Nobunaga

Watching movies on DVD or in the cinema

Chirashizushi or Nigiri sushi

Fiction or Non-fiction

Suspense or Romance TV series

When riding a roller coaster, sitting at the very front or the very back

Freedom or Money Having freedom but no money or having money but no freedom...Talk about extremes *laughs*. Freedom, since money can’t buy that.

Christmas or New Year’s

Bed or futon

Group activities or solo activities Over 3 people, no can do *laughs*

If you could keep one at home, a tropical fish or a hamster? Couldn’t keep either! I wouldn’t be able to care for it properly and it would be a pity.

Gouriki Ayame or Nounen Rena (actresses)

When you’re lost, do you go back the way you came or, keep moving even if you don’t know where you’re going?

Guitar or Drums I can play the guitar a little.

Jazz or Classical music

Travel tv show or Foodie tv show

Hot or cold drinks I can’t handle hot food.**

Extremely sweet or extremely spicy

Sons or daughters I can’t really imagine such a thing… *laughs*

Super busy or super free

Getting ready for a trip, or sorting out the photos after you come back

Sports Festival or Culture Festival I like both. If you asked me to be in the committee for either of these, then the Culture Festival.

During a trip, chilling in one place or going around for shopping and sightseeing? I’d like to go someplace within Japan with hot springs and a beautiful scenery, stay in a luxurious ryokan, and just space out.

Boke or Tsukkomi

Staying up late or sleeping in

Cherry blossoms or Autumn leaves

Sleeping with a light on or in total darkness

Do you deal with bothersome things immediately, or procrastinate until the last minute? In my school years I would get things out of the way quickly, but since I joined Takarazuka I got lazy… The stage takes all of my effort.

If you were reincarnated, would you rather be a man or a woman? Next time, I want to work hard as a man.

Notes:

(*)When the Japanese say just “sauce”, they usually mean a thin Worcestershire, which is a popular dressing (**) 猫舌 (nekojita) Disclaimer: Recipes linked are just for reference

[waldos-writing]

The Dig Initiative: Chapter 31

The Misadventures of Drednov and Poole

Everybody heard about the rumor from Altamira. Some guy broke in and took down all the guards. Took down some of the guards. Took down two guards and crapped on their corpses, because he was that kind of sick freak apparently. Shot them in the head, just for the hell of it or maybe burned them alive or probably just gassed the room and stabbed them really quick before they could wake up. Jason Bourned his way through. James Bond it. Ninja style. Cowboy style. Psycho killer style. And then took off with one of the patients! His girlfriend. His wife. His sister, maybe. His daughter?

Nobody had the details. So everybody made something up.

“Do you really believe all of this?” Agent Drednov asked.

They had parked their car in an empty Target parking lot. Curfew was supposed to end soon, and the streets would fill with pedestrians, commuters, regular folk. Drednov put her vido sensor on the dash, lifting a screen over the windshield so that they could watch the big domestic division conference. All she had to do was wave her hand over the sensor and it communicated to the windshield to go opaque. Little gadgets like that really made the car a luxury item. Maybe she hated driving it, but god was it fancy.

“Like, it was just one guy? That can’t be right.”

“I could not guess,” Agent Poole answered. He leaned a little on the armrest between them, holding his chin with his fingertips. “It’s idle gossip. I’ll wait for the facts.”

“Oh, well, sure, the facts,” said Drednov.

She was leaning in too, almost touching him shoulder to shoulder. There was a meniscus of heat between them, an almost-intimacy. They had been moving closer and closer to each other every day and Drednov wasn’t sure if she was the one pulling him in, or the other way around. She just knew that it thrilled her.

The blue waiting screen flashed onto a podium that had the Locke Security logo stamped onto it. The room, which seated 180, was packed. The rest of the field were on their patrols or at home, signing on. It was the first time they had all gathered like this and even if it wasn’t in person, it felt significant. Huge. Drednov could only guess how many agents there were under domestic division. And if she doubled it to accommodate international, it really hit her how big the company was.

A man came up to the podium, sleek blonde hair, tight suit, and sharp eyes. Handsome guy. Only a couple of people really knew what Mr. DuVang looked like, met him in person and so on. But they all knew, when he got up there, that it was really him. Really really him! It felt almost magical that he was there talking to all of them. Like listening to the president or something. Like the Pope, even.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he started, his voice smooth and light, not as deep as she expected, but commanding. “I understand this is unprecedented, but we have a great need to band together and I wanted to be the one to share it with you.

“First, I want to say how proud I am of this company. I know that it started small under Oliver Locke and current Senator Wells; the two who would go on to work together to pass the legislature we know today as the Lockewell Laws. These laws, while stringent, have prevented overpopulation, have prevented disease outbreaks, have prevented starvation and general crime. Many of you here were with the company when we transitioned into the Black Jacket program, building one of the best security firms in the nation. You are the future. You are an amazing breakthrough in science. You are, for lack of a better term, miracles. And I want you to rejoice that.  The people here are the backbone of what Locke Security is and what it will be in the future. It is with strength, determination, and community that we will extend our reach and shape the world. Protect and heal. Bring about the next change for a brighter tomorrow. And I could not be more proud of all of you.”

There was a brief applause. Drednov draped a hand on the armrest. It was just enough that her finger brushed against Poole’s. He did not draw his hand back and Drednov was certain he would feel her heartbeat going crazy just in the side of her pinky alone. He didn’t, though. He was enthralled by Mr. DuVang.

“Thank you. Now, secondly, there is an initiative we have been working towards here in Locke Security. Some of your superiors know about this, as indirectly as we might call it, CleanAire project, or Locke and Key protocol, or, rightly, the Dig Initiative. I want to set the record straight before this comes out in the wrong light and we spread fear to the public. NARA has a cure.”

Silence. People in the audience shifted, looked around, wondering briefly what the repercussions of a cure to the thing that gave them their abilities would mean. Some of them started muttering.

“Cured?” Poole snarled, sitting back for the first time. There was a big divide between them again. “Why does it need a cure?”

“For the percent of people who, you know, die from it?” Drednov offered.

“They think they need to cure us? They think—”

Mr. DuVang raised his hands, and they all went quiet again.

“Yes. Yes, there’s a cure. I hear your concerns, but let me set your mind at ease. Public opinion of the virus is shaped only by the largely fatal qualities. If we spread it now throughout the state, ninety-percent of the United States would be dead within the month. I know the benefits. You know the benefits. And we. Are. The lucky. Few.” Mr. DuVang banged his hand against the podium in time with his last statement. “People, we can change that twenty percent. We can help them step up to that threshold and cross over like all of you here have done. In fact, it is our duty to do so. There untapped potential is lying dormant right now, and it is a waste to what we can do as human beings!”

Mr. DuVang paused again, leaning on his forearms, staring out at the crowd. He brushed some strands of hair off his forehead and tongued his bottom lip.

“Holy cow,” said Drednov, almost with a laugh. “He’s crazy!”

“Shh,” Poole answered curtly. She was about to protest and he grabbed her bicep and shushed her again. Her first reaction was to lean into him, fall into it, but she jerked her arm free.

“Now, to assuage some of your fears, no. This will not affect you. This will not change who you are, or rob you of anything but your time and cooperation. Your loved ones, your neighbors, your friends are our number one concern. We are preventing a pandemic that would wipe out the human race. We are standing on the edge of the tide of tomorrow and we are coming out of this heroes. You are coming out of this heroes. You are heroes.

“So, this is what I ask of you, as head of Locke Security. The Dig Initiative is set to launch at the end of this month. With the recent outbreaks of NARA virus in the public, it is imperative that we get ahead of this thing now. We are releasing the cure to market with the help of financial aid from CleanAire owner Mr. Rick Samspon. You might wonder why a security firm has its hand on such a product, but you are the results of all that research, all that study, hardship, toil. Sacrifice. With the help of the Altamira Research facility under Barrenson Medical, the owners of the Sanctuary hospitals, we have created you.” Mr. DuVang pointed at someone in the audience, and then another. “And you.” He pointed a third time, towards the feed, and said, “And you. Locke Security stands here today because of the science of Barrenson Medical and Montemille research and Altamira. And it stands here today because of you.”

Mr. DuVang started applauding. It was quickly picked up by the crowd, dragging on as he smiled at everyone. Drednov could guess that he had an influential talent, perhaps manipulating the room. She felt disturbed by his words about “better tomorrow” and “miracles” and “shaping the world.” Sounded dangerously like a cult. But Poole was eating it up. He almost clapped too, settling back into his seat with a satisfactory smile.

The audience died down again, hushed slowly until Mr. DuVang could be heard. He nodded at them, thanked them. Even laughed.

“Now, there is a threat against our company, and this is the real reason why I have called this conference. I have confirmed this with the mayor, governor, and senator of Vermont, as well as the local police and highway patrol. We have the necessity of moving into a twenty-four hour curfew around this city starting Monday. This gives the public enough time to prepare their households for the shutdown. Notices have been sent out, public will be made aware, of course. We believe that there is a group who plan to attack our headquarters. I will not dally with the details of the Altamira incident, but the fact remains that there is a threat and we are ready to respond to it. Your supervisors will be giving new rotations to ensure this city is safe while we work on weeding this threat out. I will not be running from this. Safety is my number one concern. We have assigned twenty new White Jackets to each team. I will not let someone terrorize this company, my people, or our delivery of a cure to the population. We will not be threatened. And we will not take this sitting down!”

More applause. Drednov couldn’t believe they were going to lock the city down completely like that. She held her forehead, letting it sink in, as Poole pumped a fist into the air and belted out his approval.

“We are the future! We are the future! Thank you!” Mr. DuVang was yelling over the crowd, laughing wildly with them. “Honor in thought! Honor in deed!”

The crowd yelled back “Honor in thought honor in deed honor in thought honor in deed honor in thought honor in deed” and Poole cheered, repeating, “Honor in thought. Honor in deed.” Drednov closed the feed and it shifted over to her inbox, blinking a message from their supervisor. She’d read that later.

“I can’t believe they’re finally going through with it,” Poole said, sighing contently. “We’re really going to see a change.”

“He said twenty-four hour lockdown,” said Drednov, gesturing bitterly towards the sensor bar. “He’s putting us in a headlock.”

“No, this is good. This is good.” Poole wasn’t looking at her, maybe through her, to some glittery pastoral scenery of a perfect tomorrow. She never saw him smile so openly, it almost scared her. “They’re really doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“The CleanAire towers. They’re going to release NARA through the towers.”

“What? He just said they’re releasing a cure.”

“No,” Poole said. He laughed and it was low, deep in his chest, while he shook his head a little. “No, that’s what he’s telling us because he has to, because he can’t trust everyone. But I know for a fact they’re going to release it through the towers. I saw intel on it. You know what this means? They’re not curing anything. They’re cleansing. Finally, finally, they’re pushing us into a new world.”

“Cleansing, holy—”

Drednov pressed her body back as Poole reached across the center console and grabbed the nape of her neck. She didn’t have time to turn away, her head buzzing with surprise, before he pulled her to him and kissed her hard. It was selfish, mindless mashing of his lips on hers and she struggled to turn her head away or catch her breath. This is what she wanted. It was. She grappled to get her fingers under his and pry her neck loose as his mouth dug into hers, his tongue jabbing at hers. This is what she wanted. His fingers hurt when they dug into her skin. This is what she wanted. She couldn’t breathe around him.

Another hand snaked to the back of her head. He was straddling a knee on the armrest, perched over her, holding her as his mouth smacked open and his tongue darted for her, almost choking her. His breath was hot and sour in her mouth, curdling something in the back of her throat. Not this, not this at all.  He was so big, his hands like vices on her head, leaning down so that she was pinned. Drednov clenched her mouth shut to get away from his slimy tongue and screamed behind her teeth, fumbling for anything, pushing against his chest, but he just took her hand and squeezed it, trapped it.

“It’ll be perfect,” he muttered against her, sliding his tongue down her neck. “It’ll be perfect for us. It’ll be perfect and pure, just like you wanted.”

“Please.” It came out strangled. Almost a sob. Too quiet though. Too quiet. Her stomach boiled and a nerve jolted up the center of her body. “Please,” she tried again, harder, but it fell on deft ears.

Drednov closed her eyes as Agent Poole shoved his hands up her blouse, her head thumping back against the car door. She tried to pull herself in, get away from it so she didn’t experience it, but when he raked his fingers down her stomach she felt her whole body tremble and go cold. Before he reached the edge of her pants she sucked in what little air she could find and exploded out.

Poole was knocked back to the other side of the car. He cracked his skull against the glass, shattering it in tiny spider web fragments, a broken halo with a small spot of blood branching out from the center. When he shifted, Drednov pushed out again, pinned him there, squeezing down on his throat while her hands fumbled for the door latch. When it opened, she spilled out of the car backwards, landed hard, but rolled to her knees and sprang up.

“Val!” Agent Poole shouted inside the car, his voice hoarse. He coughed and then said, “Wait!”

She pushed with every last ounce she had, shoving with all her mental weight, and tossed the car off the sidewalk. It rolled, spinning madly through the air before it crashed into a light post. The metal frame of the car bent around the pole, front bumper meeting with the back end so it looked like a “u” shape. Sparks shot up into the air in an angry display against the scream of metal and bone inside. Something burst and steam shot out in a wild whistle, a big smoker’s puff of air, almost like a giant tea kettle. Drednov didn’t want to see if Poole was going to get out. She curled whatever pieces she could find sticking off the car back around the pole, wrapping each piece like she was tying knots and ignored any sound that came from inside. It was exhausting, and once it was knotted up, she almost fell. Almost collapsed. But no time. No time. She took off down the street, legs pumping hard, shirt torn to reveal her pale stomach, lungs screaming. She thought about home, about her brother, about the edge of the city. She thought about bright clothes and blankets, get free, get free, get free. Poole’s mangled body groping for air between the bloody seats. But not that. Not that. It didn’t matter where she went, just that she got there. When she was gone, then she’d cry properly.

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