#being able to put a voice on shiki that isn’t coming from my head is so important in making him distinct

[xbuster]

The fact Shirou is muted by default is horrifying because of course most players aren’t going to mess around in the settings of a visual novel since people will generally assume there’s nothing that needs to be changed in what seems to be such a simple game. I don’t even want to think about how many people will just assume Shirou isn’t voiced because they never saw the voice sliders…

Of course, Fate wasn’t voiced originally but the voice acting for Shirou really does so much for keeping the player from trying too hard to project (heh) on him. And such an important part of understanding Shirou is not treating him as a player insert. The conscious decision to mute Shirou by default and lead the player into seeing him as a player insert is really unforgivable to me.

[goodlucktai]

when the bones are good

@natsumeweek 2021 day 4; sweet/sour

read on ao3

(previous part)

x

Yousuke Takuma looks like he regrets inviting the Natori brothers into his house. They tend to have that effect on people.

“I shouldn’t be reading these,” he says in a very calm tone. “These are the sacred property of your clan. They shouldn’t even have left your property.”

“It’s not like anyone is going to miss them,” Shuuichi replies plainly. “My grandfather still thinks I can’t get past the locks on the storehouse door. Even Takashi can get past those, and he’s eight.”

“Sometimes I just ask Urihime to get me the keys,” Takashi admits. “She doesn’t get along with grandfather so she likes having an excuse to take stuff from him.”

It’s a nice way of saying ‘she fucking hates him’ but Takashi is a nice person. 

The kid is chronically honest. Always has been. He’ll strive to frame it kindly, but the truth is all you’re getting from him. It can be annoying, but mostly it’s pretty funny, and at the end of the day Shuuichi is glad that Takashi doesn’t feel the need to lie or make up stories. Even about the really unbelievable things. He just says what he’s thinking, because he knows it’s the truth, and his big brother will back him up if anyone gives him any trouble.

Shuuichi doesn’t have a lot in his life to be proud of, but he’s proud of that. 

The right people don’t care if a little kid tells ghost stories, anyway. Hinata thinks they’re great. She keeps threatening to write them all down and adapt them into her first screenplay.

Takuma puts his face in his hands. Across the room, Tsukiko giggles, clearly not as focused on her homework as she would like for the rest of them to believe she is. Ginro sets a tray of tea down on the table and gives Shuuichi a stern look for having the audacity to stress her master out so soon after his injury. Chastened, Shuuichi lifts his hands in apology. 

“If you really don’t want to look at them, I’ll put them away,” he says. “But I trust you not to—run off with them and patent them under your name, or whatever it is you think I should think you’re going to do.”

That works a huff of wry laughter out of the man, and he looks up at Shuuichi with a warm expression. It’s the way Shuuichi thinks his dad might have looked at him if he’d been born a proper son.

“Lunch first,” Takuma says, “then we’ll take a look at this paper magic of yours. Though if a couple of little geniuses like yourselves can’t figure it out, I don’t know what you think this old man will be able to do.” 

He adds the last bit with a smile for Takashi, who beams up at him from where he’s been not-so-subtly sneaking Jinbe rice crackers. Jinbe is the most unsettling of Takuma’s three familiars, but he’s also—to Shuuichi’s resignation—Takashi’s complete favorite. It appears to be mutual.

“You’ve kept your promise, haven’t you?” Takuma asks after a moment. “About staying away from those meetings?” 

Shuuichi sighs performatively. “Of course I have. It’s not like I could bring my brother with me, and he’d hardly just stay home. He’s very disobedient.”

Takashi scoffs. “Hinata-neesan says I’m your most redeeming quality.”

“Nowhere in there does she mention ‘obedient,’” Shuuichi replies without missing a beat, and grins when Takashi makes a face at him. 

“Alright, alright,” Takuma says, laughing properly now. “As long as you’re keeping your word, I don’t care about why.” He pushes himself up to his feet, moving a little stiffly, and smiles at his daughter when Tsukiko hurries over to take his arm. “There should be some margherita pizzas in the chest freezer. I bought them on a whim the last time I was at the supermarket. Should we try them?”

Of course they should. Takashi scoops the last of the cookies off the table and piles them neatly in Jinbe’s greedy hands, even though Takuma sighs and makes noises about spoiled shiki. Tsukiko gives the disappearing treats a bit of an odd look, but she seems more fascinated to be in the company of spirits than unnerved.

Shuuichi is beginning to think that his relatives are just bad people. 

“By the way, have you made any progress on,” Takuma starts, and finishes with a nod towards Shuuichi’s arm. 

The lizard is scurrying around in busy little circles, as if it’s feeling restless. Shuuichi covers it with his hand, something that sometimes works in calming it down, like putting a blanket over a bird cage. In this case, it crawls onto his hand instead and resumes scurrying there. Weird little thing.

“I still have no idea what it is,” Shuuichi says ruefully, “but Takashi is trying to teach it tricks.”

Takuma stares at him, and then at his brother. Takashi offers, “It knows ‘roll over’!”

“Go,” Shuuichi’s mentor says firmly, pointing them down the hall. “Kitchen. Lunch. We’ll discuss this later.”

A knock on the door interrupts their noisy exodus, and Takuma frowns. Clearly, he isn’t expecting company. The amiable man’s posture tenses as he gestures for Tsukiko, Shuuichi and Takashi to stay put. Ginro and Benihimo flank him on his way to the front door. 

Exorcists tend to be a paranoid bunch.

But with a dangerous ayakashi on the loose, Shuuichi thinks, with a prickle of unease all his own, maybe it’s better safe than sorry. 

“Urihime, go collect all our scrolls and put them in my bag,” Shuuichi says swiftly. “Sasago, stay right here.”

His shiki both nod, and Urihime disappears. 

Tsukiko is picking up on the atmosphere, even if her eyes aren’t the same as theirs. Even normal humans have a sixth-sense sense for certain things and it’s not to be taken lightly. She shifts nervously, and something in Shuuichi’s chest goes warm when he realizes she’s put her arm around Takashi’s shoulders protectively. 

“Seiji?” Takuma asks. His voice is raised in surprise, carrying from the genkan. “What on earth are you doing here?” 

Relief and dread fight each other in the pit of Shuuichi’s stomach. Dread wins. He’s only encountered Matoba Seiji twice, once at the summit he inadvertently followed Amasaki to, and then again in passing for a few minutes in the woods, but those brief meetings were enough. 

Even normal humans have a sixth-sense for certain things. Usually danger. 

“Tsukiko,” he says casually, “can you and Takashi go get lunch started?” 

To Tsukiko’s eternal credit, she doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Takashi, will you help me? Dad buys so much weird stuff when he goes shopping that it might be hard to find the pizzas.”

Takashi gives Shuuichi a look that says, very clearly, that he knows when he’s being fobbed off. Shuuichi ruffles his hair in a way that ruins the careful work Sumi-san (the only member of the Natori house staff who will still talk to either of them) put in that morning with half a dozen bobby pins. Now it flops into Takashi’s eyes and he makes an outraged sound, reaching up to shove Shuuichi’s hand away. 

“I’ll fill you in later,” Shuuichi says. “Promise.”

That’s enough for Takashi. Mollified, he trails after Tsukiko without argument, and with only one curious look over his shoulder. Jinbe drifts after them watchfully, and probably only partly in hopes of more snacks. Sasago remains at Shuuichi’s side, a stalwart presence that he’s come to depend on. 

It’s Shuuichi’s job to keep the monsters away. Whatever form they might take. 

Takuma looks irritated as he leads Seiji into the sitting room. With a nod of his head, he invites Shuuichi inside, too. The tea tray from before has vanished, a new one sitting in its stead, and Shuuichi notes with some inward amusement that Ginro didn’t lay out any snacks this time. 

“Well, what do you know,” Seiji says, as enigmatic as ever. “Shuuichi-san, I never would have expected to find you here.”

It’s impossible to tell what this guy is actually thinking. 

“Did you come by to check on Takuma-san, too?” Shuuichi asks. He has to work to keep his tone from biting, but he manages it.

“In a sense,” Seiji replies politely. “I was hoping to find out more about the ayakashi that attacked him. Going after it before it hurts anyone else is an exorcist’s job, don’t you think?” 

It’s bait, as clear and obvious as a cricket dangling from some fishing line. If he were still the bitter brat he used to be, maybe Shuuichi would have risen to it fiercely, like a tide, surging and crashing against Seiji’s unchanging stone facade. He would have said, ‘You don’t care about helping people. You called Takuma-san weak. You’re just looking for someone to use.’

Which is all perfectly true, and perfectly justifiable reasons to not want to drink tea with this guy and discuss the differences in their conventions, but it’s not like calling Seiji out would do any good. It probably wouldn’t even be satisfying. He would just gaze at Shuuichi with that stupid cat-that-caught-the-canary expression and make him feel like an idiot for existing.

He gets enough of that at home, thanks. 

“You’re right,” Shuuichi says mildly, with a smile of his own, “that is an exorcist’s job.”

Takuma eventually tells Seiji what he wants to know, clearly having given up on keeping the teenager away from exorcist summits and dangerous ayakashi, but he does afterword his information with warnings to be careful. 

Urihime sets Shuuichi’s bookbag beside him and he nods his thanks. Seiji clocks the two-second interaction with sharp eyes. 

“Look at that! You have a servant?” His eyes follow her when she moves to stand next to Sasago, next to both of Takuma’s shiki along the side of the room, and he whistles. “Two servants. Pretending to be an exorcist on the sly, are we, Shuuichi-san?”

More bait. Another cricket. Shuuichi sips from his teacup. “They belong to my family. I don’t know why they follow me around. They must be bored.”

All of which is true, technically. Takuma’s eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, but he doesn’t comment. Sasago turns her head very slowly, and her eyes, hidden beneath their blindfold, seem to bore into the side of his head. Urihime is less subtle and outright hisses at him. 

“Hmm, jury seems to be out on that,” Seiji says, and laughs. 

The sitting room door rattles open and Tsukiko peers through. Shuuichi’s fists clench in his lap, because sure enough, Takashi is right behind her, his brown eyes peeking curiously into the room. 

“Sorry, papa, but is your guest staying for lunch, too? Only, I don’t know how many pizzas to put in.”

“No, no, I couldn’t impose,” Seiji says. “I’ll get going and leave you guys to enjoy the rest of your afternoon. It looks as though you were having a pleasant time before I barged in.”

We were, Shuuichi thinks, but he keeps it to himself. He and Takuma stand up to see Seiji out. Seiji pauses when he spots Takashi behind Tsukiko, and his amicable expression takes on an edge that Shuuichi can’t define. He looks more engaged now than he did during the entire conversation with Takuma. 

“Hello again,” Seiji says in a pleasant tone. 

“Excuse me?” Shuuichi interjects loudly. “‘Again’?”

“Hi,” Takashi replies at length. His gaze is fixed on Seiji’s face as though there’s something interesting happening there. Jinbe drifts like a shark behind him, mask pointed towards Seiji suspiciously.

“As I thought, you have good eyes,” Seiji remarks, whatever that’s supposed to mean. He looks across the room at Urihime and Sasago, down at the bag by Shuuichi’s feet, at the lizard mark curled up on his arm, and then finally up at Shuuichi himself. Smiling widely, he adds, “I look forward to seeing what becomes of the Natori clan.”

Takuma escorts him out properly, and Tsukiko goes back to deal with the pizzas. Alone save for a scattering of trusted ayakashi, Shuuichi kneels and beckons his brother over. 

“C’mere, squirt.”

Takashi crosses the room to him. Standing in front of Shuuichi like this, they’re almost eye-to-eye. 

“Have you met that guy before?” Shuuichi asks. 

“Only once. It was when you had classroom duties and Hinata-neesan took me to the 7-Eleven to get chicken nuggets,” Takashi explains. “We met Matoba-san while we were walking. He said he was your friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.” 

Takashi nods very seriously.

“That’s what Hinata-neesan said. She took out her pepper spray and waved it at him. I think Matoba-san thought that was funny, but he said he didn’t mean to upset her, and he left. It was the right thing to do, probably, because he didn’t have any spirits with him, and Urihime was getting annoyed that he was talking to me.”

Shuuichi feels like he’s aged thirty years in the past three minutes. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough that there are spots in his vision when he looks up again. 

“Takashi, listen,” he says, “stay away from him. If he ever approaches you for any reason, tell me about it, okay? Promise?”

He holds out his pinky. Takashi rolls his eyes, much too grown up at eight years old for things like this, but he hooks his finger around Shuuichi’s gamely. 

“Whoever lies has to swallow a thousand needles,” they recite together, and then Shuuichi ruffles Takashi’s hair again just to make him squawk. 

“Sorry about that, boys,” Takuma says when he comes back. 

He pauses in the doorway and his bandaged face creases in a smile to see them rough-housing playfully, Takashi struggling to free himself from Shuuichi’s headlock, the tense atmosphere from before banished like an errant spirit.

“Bring those scrolls with you to the kitchen,” Takuma says warmly, “and I’ll help however I can.”

Seiji can think whatever he wants about Takuma, but the man is clever. By the time Shuuichi and Takashi are ready to leave, packed up with a leftover pizza and some cookies for the road, they’ve puzzled out the array that they were stuck on and Shuuichi managed to make a paperman fly. 

Takuma had looked over the notes he’d taken ruefully. He couldn’t help but absorb some of the practices for himself as he helped the boys study them, and clearly he felt guilty about that. Shuuichi leaned forward across the table and caught his eye. 

I trust you, he wanted to say. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. But there was absolutely no way Shuuichi could say something like that. Not out loud, with his mouth, where someone might hear him. 

“Clan trade or not, if you’re ever in danger and any of this paper magic could help you, I want you to use it,” he said instead. “No secret is worth keeping if it means you get hurt. Right, Takashi?” 

“Right,” Takashi piped up, his little voice clear and bright in that sunny kitchen. He was watching intently as his paperman wobbled precariously across the table, trying to carry a note to a delighted Tsukiko, and didn’t bother looking up even as he added, “It’s just paper, ojisan.”

“Yeah, ojisan,” Shuuichi teased laughingly. 

Takuma rolled his eyes, but gave in with a smile, as if he couldn’t help but be charmed by their noisy, obtrusive presence in his home. For a second, even though he was clearly the one who had gone out of his way to help them—wasting an entire day working with them on magic he didn’t fully approve of them studying in the first place, an entire day he should have spent recuperating—Takuma looked as though they were the ones who had done him a favor, just by being there. 

“What did Seiji mean when he said you had good eyes?” Shuuichi will remember to ask his brother a little later, when they’re walking home. 

“Oh, I guess because I noticed the weird mark on his face,” Takashi says. 

“Weird mark? What did it look like?”

Takashi hums thoughtfully, glancing around. He trots off the road a little bit to pick up a stick, then crouches in the dirt and starts drawing a strange, crooked symbol. Shuuichi leans over him to watch.

It’s not a symbol he’s ever seen before. Yokai writing, if he had to guess. 

“What does it mean?” he asks the shiki. 

Sasago drifts over and inspects the drawing, her face giving nothing away. 

“‘Something owed,’” she translates after a moment. “I think the closest human word would be ‘debt’.”

“Huh,” Shuuichi says. He offers Takashi a hand and hauls the kid back upright, frowning thoughtfully. “And you said it was on his face?” 

“Yup, above his right eye. Didn’t you see it?” A thread of anxiety works its way into Takashi’s voice that Shuuichi is quick to smother. 

“I didn’t have my glasses on,” he says smoothly, “so I must have missed it. You know your eyes are better than mine.”

Takashi grins up at him, appeased, and they spend the rest of the walk playing with bits of talisman paper. It’s habit by now to keep their pockets stuffed full of scraps. Shuuichi manages to make a couple of them fly, and Takashi claps his hands together in glee every time.

To anyone who might be watching, it probably looks like the wind is catching the scraps and lifting them out of their hands instead of the shaky first steps of magic it really is. There won’t be anything to question about the sight of two brothers, taking their time getting home to a place where no one is waiting for them, laughing and jumping as they try to catch those floating pieces of paper.

[sachigram]

“With Teeth” Chapter One

((click here to read on ao3!!!!))

Izaya is in the middle of this third all-nighter in a row, buried in his files and flicking back and forth between tabs to confirm and add to his information. He's going to send this to Shiki as soon as it's done, and then he's finally going to get some well-deserved rest. In all fairness, no one is making him work so tirelessly, aside from himself. He leans back in his chair, lifting his arms above his head, a soft noise of satisfaction leaving him when his joints pop. A low growl comes from the direction of the couch, but Izaya doesn't turn his gaze away from his screen.

“You're in my home. Feel free to leave if you're so bothered by me,” Izaya calls to the looming figure. Another growl is sent his way, this one louder than the last. Izaya finally lifts his head and smirks up at the monster occupying his space.

No one else would be able to recognize Heiwajima Shizuo like this, but it's becoming a regular sight for Izaya, who never hides his disgust or enjoyment at seeing Shizuo in his true form. Hollywood has really romanticized werewolves in the past few years, painting them as large, overgrown puppies, but Shizuo is anything but romantic right now, his body stretched and twisted, his skin dark and leathery, covered by wisps of wiry fur in places. Shizuo has so many sharp, jagged teeth they can't fit entirely in his mouth, and he's leaving drool in his wake, but Izaya will only have Namie clean it in the morning. She'll complain, but she doesn't often ask too many questions.

“What is it? You look angry,” Izaya drawls, making a show of giving Shizuo his full attention. Shizuo snarls at him, more drool escaping his mouth. “Could it be the bloodlust is worse than normal tonight? How tragic for you.”

It's been this way for about half a year now, ever since Shizuo was bitten. Shizuo came to Izaya, defeated, overwhelmed with the desire to kill, to maim, his violence only growing more and more as the full moon approached. Izaya took pity on him, helped the monster when he really didn't have to, but Shizuo refuses to look at it as anything resembling benevolence. Izaya's potion helps keep Shizuo in his own mind, and it stops him from acting on his desires, but it can't do much to stop the desire to bite.

Izaya is only a witch, after all, not a miracle worker.

“You could always go out, you know? Bite some poor bystander. You'd bring me more business, anyway.” He laughs delightedly when Shizuo lunges at him, and he moves swiftly out of the beast's way, lifting a hand up and clenching his fingers. Shizuo's body straightens immediately, his arms snapping flat as his sides, powerless against Izaya's magic. His expression doesn't change, however, and Izaya loves knowing how much Shizuo wants to kill him right now, how Shizuo wants nothing more than to tear out Izaya's throat with his jagged teeth. “Relax, would you? The night is young, and you've gone through this too many times to lose yourself now.”

Shizuo relaxes a little at the reminder that if he kills anyone, even Izaya, it's only proving what a monster he's become. There's a haunted look in his eyes, a certain dark shadow that says he's gone through every stage of grief already and settled on helpless, begrudging acceptance. Shizuo needs Izaya now, and Izaya is completely in love with it.

“Good boy, Shizu-chan. We'll civilize you, yet,” Izaya purrs, releasing Shizuo from his grip. Shizuo huffs before going back to pacing a hole in the floor, and Izaya returns to his desk, moving the mouse so the screensaver disappears.

Business as usual.

***

Six months ago, Izaya was completely fed up.

His enjoyment with his work was stagnating, and he was more bored than he'd ever been. Worse than that, Shizuo was becoming closer and closer with that woman, and he was paying less and less attention to Izaya, not rising to the bait Izaya would set out. It got to the point that Shizuo walked past Izaya on the street one day, not even bothering to look at him, and that was the final straw for Izaya, who refused to be ignored. He made some calls, opened old wounds, arranged a meeting.

It took less than half a day to ruin the rest of Shizuo's life. How laughable.

After the initial bite, given by some higher end Yakuza who held a personal grudge against Shizuo, or at least against his reputation, Izaya decided to sit back and wait. He knew Shizuo would come to him eventually, as all monsters inevitably did. Shizuo lasted longer than Izaya thought he would, to his credit, but he grew weaker, more haggard-looking as the days progressed. Rumors were flying around the city, most of them speculating whether or not Shizuo had some sort of terminal illness, and days went by where the monster wasn't seen at all, and Tom and Vorona were handling work without him.

Finally, a few days before the next full moon, there was a soft knock at Izaya's door, far too gentle to be Shizuo, but Izaya knew it was Shizuo even before he answered. Shizuo's eyes were dark rimmed, like he hadn't slept in days, and there was something about him that made him seem almost helpless, an adjective Izaya never once thought to apply to Heiwajima Shizuo.

“What did you do to me?” Shizuo asked before Izaya could say anything.

“What are you talking about?” Izaya replied, his voice smaller than he would've liked. It was a little unsettling, seeing Shizuo so weak, so sickly. Shizuo was always able to surprise Izaya, but this was something different entirely.

“You fucking know what!” Shizuo shoved Izaya then, and his usual strength was there, the force of it knocking Izaya clear across the room. He caught himself before he could hit the floor, and he reminded himself no matter what Shizuo looked like in the moment, he was still a formidable predator, more of a monster than ever before. A knife was in Izaya's hand before he was even aware of drawing it. Shizuo's dark eyes moved from Izaya's face to the knife, then back up.

“You know what,” Shizuo said again, and his face crumpled in pain and fear. Izaya lowered the knife, fighting back a smile as he observed his mortal enemy.

This was more like it.

“I haven't even seen you. I haven't been to your city. Why are you here?” Izaya asked, and Shizuo growled before marching forward, his teeth bared.

“What the fuck was that guy? What did he turn me into? I know you sent those assholes after me.” Shizuo looked down at his hands, clearly fighting with himself on whether he should admit any of this to Izaya. “The dreams, the blood— fuck. Izaya, what did you do to me?”

Izaya put his knife back in his pocket then, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. Shizuo noticed it, snarled openly, but otherwise did nothing.

“You came to me,” Izaya said as he moved towards Shizuo. “Why would I ever help you?”

Shizuo's expression hardened, but his eyes remained just as helpless. He seemed to be struggling to answer, but Izaya knew already. All monsters made their way to him eventually. It was instinctual, just something they knew to do.

“Congratulations, Shizu-chan,” Izaya said, and his smile grew into a leer. “You're less human now than you've ever been.”

***

Izaya groans as he stretches again, rolling his shoulders. They're stiff from being in the same hunched position so long, but he's finally done with work, and he's looking forward to sleeping the rest of the day. He might even call Namie and tell her not to bother coming in. He closes everything and turns off his computer, his attention caught by the brightening sky, hues of pink and gold beginning to fill his apartment. He looks over at Shizuo, who is back in his human form, just sitting in a heap of limbs on the hard floor, panting heavily.

“Oh, good, you're back to normal,” Izaya says. “Now get out.”

“Give me a fucking minute!” Shizuo snaps, his voice strained. The transformation is incredibly painful, Izaya knows. Shizuo isn't his only werewolf client, after all, but he's the only one who insists on making Izaya babysit throughout every full moon. Shizuo is rightfully terrified of what he is and what he could do. Izaya just enjoys seeing him suffer.

“Fine, but you could at least gather yourself quietly. Listening to you pant and whine is giving me a headache,” Izaya says, leaning back in his chair and grinning when Shizuo glares over at him.

“Just make yourself a healing potion then, witch.”

It's said like a slur, wielded in a way meant to offend. Izaya is used to this by now, as he's been aware of what he is for most of his life. Creatures come to him, needing help, but fearing him. Witches are rare, even more so in the human realm, and the others who exist here aren't as powerful as Izaya is, aren't able to provide the same services. Most of Izaya's clients hate him and would like to see him dead.

Par for the course, really. At least most of them are upfront about it.

“I might just do that! As soon as this rotten, smelly monster is out of my space, I might just do a lot of things.” Izaya stands, moving towards Shizuo and kicking his pile of clothes towards him. “Get dressed, and get out, before I send you flying out the window.”

The hatred is palpable between them, just as it's always been, and Shizuo isn't looking at anything but Izaya as he slowly begins pulling his clothes back on. They're in a truce of sorts, Shizuo needing Izaya too much to kill him, and Izaya taking pleasure in Shizuo's misery. They'll still fight in public if they cross paths, but here, behind closed doors, Izaya knows Shizuo is in the palm of his hand.

They both know it.

Shizuo finishes getting dressed and limps towards the door, his mind a whirlwind of angered static that he seems to be projecting. He barely manages to cross through the threshold before Izaya slams the door behind him. Izaya listens to Shizuo's steps fading, and he can't help the laughter that spills from his lips, growing louder and louder until it has Izaya falling to the floor, holding his sides as he cackles with delight.

For the first time in his life, Izaya loves what he is.

***

It started early, too early for Izaya to truly remember the finer details. He had dreams, and then he saw things. It was chalked up to an overactive imagination, especially since he was always reading, very advanced for his age. He'd say things, and his parents would compliment him, would tell him how smart he was. For a while, he believed them, and he loved the attention he got, would strive to do even better and learn even more, but it only lasted so long. His parents started spending less and less time at home, and Izaya went from staying with his grandparents to occasionally having them look in on him. He spent the majority of his time alone, and that's when the dreams turned into reality.

Spirits would visit him, wanting help, and they'd terrify him, would clatter about the house and lurk around corners, waiting to be acknowledged and saved, and Izaya didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do for them. For a while, he tried to hide from them, would tune them out by blasting the TV as loudly as it would go. The neighbors started complaining about the noise, and after a stern phone call from his parents, Izaya was forced to sit on his own and listen to the voices of the dead.

After the twins were born, and his parents were around more, Izaya started to relax a little. It was better having other people around, though the spirits remained. Gradually, his parents started spending more time away from the house again, and soon enough, Izaya was left to care for his baby sisters. He was thankful they couldn't seem to see the spirits that lingered around the house.

The first time someone referred to Izaya as a witch, it was spat in a derogatory way, definitely meant to harm. It was an older spirit, a man frustrated with Izaya and his inability to help. The man couldn't accept he was dead, and he couldn't seem to figure out how to pass on. He took all of his rage out on the house, slamming cabinets, breaking things, and the twins were crying in fear, toddlers by that point. They couldn't see the ghost, but they could see their belongings being tossed around and smashed. Izaya tried to calm them down, which only upset the man even more.

“LISTEN to me, you fucking witch!”

Until then, Izaya had never really had a term to describe himself. He knew he was different, but he never knew why. He put the twins in their room, telling them to play with their toys, and he moved to the man's side, his jaw set in irritation.

“What did you call me?”

“A witch! All of you are scum, but I'm stuck with a little brat on top of it.” The man looked at Izaya with such disgust, such judgment. Izaya was so very tired of being looked at that way. He found himself lifting his hand, and a moment later, the man was writhing on the floor in complete agony, tears streaming down his transparent face. Izaya watched him for a long time, a small, satisfied smile on his face as the man pleaded with him to stop, please, stop.

“Let's try this again,” Izaya said, kneeling down. “Ask me for my help, and I'll see what I can do.”

Something changed that day. Izaya was fed up being stuck trying to care for everyone. He poured himself into research, learned to use his abilities, and while the humans in his life seemed to understand him less and less, the other world delighted in him. Word of his power spread, and soon enough it wasn't just the dead coming to see him, but the undead as well.

“I just think it's so cool!” Shinra said one day. The sun was setting outside, lighting the empty classroom in an orange tint. Shinra's glasses reflected the sunset, hiding his true expression. “I don't see why you wouldn't want everyone to know.”

“Well, you spend all your time spouting nonsense about Celty, and everyone just thinks you're insane. I'd rather not be lumped in with you,” Izaya said, holding a dead plant in his hand. With a thought, he brought it back to life. “Stop letting these die, would you? It's messing with our data.”

“Sorry, I get distracted!” Shinra scribbled something down on his notepad and then looked up at Izaya once more. “I'm glad you told me, Izaya-kun.”

Izaya shrugged. “You live with a fairy. You already know about the other world. It's not like we're bound together in secrecy.”

“But who did you get it from? It's genetic, isn't it? Your parents—“

“Have no idea, and I'd like to keep it that way. My sisters don't know, either. I seem to be the only one who has these abilities.”

“Your grandparents?” Shinra asked.

Izaya shrugged again. “As I said, it seems to be only me.”

“Hmm.” Shinra put his finger to his chin in thought. “It's possible it skips generations. If magical abilities passed down continuously, it wouldn't be as rare as it is.”

“Lucky me,” Izaya murmured, setting the flower pot down with the others.

“Yes, lucky you,” Shinra said wistfully. “I'd give anything to be involved in the same world as my Celty.”

“She's hardly herself at all without her head,” Izaya reminded him. “If she was complete, she wouldn't be sticking around with humans.”

“Oh, I know. If I have my way, she'll never have her head.”

Izaya snorted, a smile appearing on his face. Shinra was the only person he knew that could say such selfish things as if they were normal.

“You want her to be incomplete for the rest of her existence, and you're calling it love. You're twisted, Shinra.”

“Being incomplete with someone else is better than being complete alone!”

“It's not, and you're an idiot.”

“Well, either way,” Shinra said, and he put an arm around Izaya, who shrugged him off. “Celty wants to meet you! She can't believe I know one of the few remaining witches!”

“Ugh.”

“And I want you to meet my other friend! He's not magic or anything, but he's insanely strong. To think I'd ever have such extraordinary people in my life!”

Izaya tuned him out, thinking to himself that Shinra was enough for him. The less people he had to explain himself to, the better.

***

Izaya wakes much later, face-down in his pillow. He groans, rolling over, his entire body sore. He looks at his clock and finds he's been asleep most of the day.

“Welcome back,” says an irritatingly familiar voice in the corner. Izaya groans again and covers his face with his pillow.

“Why're you here?” he slurs, his voice thick with sleep. “The sun's up.”

“Yes, but this corner is dark enough. Your blackout curtains hide the worst of the sun. I'm here for my usual potions.”

“It's been a month already? I've lost track of time,” Izaya says, finally looking over at Tsukumoya. The vampire looks amused, as always. And far too smug.

“You'd think it would be easier to keep track of, seeing as I always come the day after your dog stays the night,” Tsukumoya lilts. “Am I correct in assuming you stayed up all night with him again?”

“You make it sound like we were having fun.” Izaya grumbles and rolls out of bed, padding towards the corner where he keeps his finished potions. He lifts a box and hands it to Tsukumoya.

“But it is fun for you, isn't it? Your dream come true, Heiwajima Shizuo at your mercy.”

“I'm really not in the mood to deal with you today. My patience is already thin because of Shizu-chan,” Izaya warns, and Tsukumoya laughs at him. The vampire has always been good at getting under Izaya's skin, seems to think of Izaya as a toy of sorts.

“Fine, fine. I'll leave you be until next month. Of course, if you'd like to chat sooner, you can always reach me.”

Izaya waves him away, and Tsukumoya disappears, probably to go back to his usual lurking. Yawning, Izaya considers going back to sleep, but he's already wasted too much time. His stomach rumbles, reminding him of its existence, and he frowns to himself, considering that Namie isn't here to cook for him, and he has no desire to cook for himself.

“Takeout it is!” he says aloud, dressing hurriedly. He's reading over food options near him on his phone when his it rings, obscuring his search. He rolls his eyes as he accepts the call, making his way out of his apartment as he does so. “Yes?”

“Izaya-kun! How was Shizuo-kun's transformation last night?”

“Same as it always is,” Izaya says, pulling his hood up as he steps outside. It's a gloomy day, rainy and chilly. He zips up his coat. “Why don't you talk to him about it yourself, Shinra?”

“Believe me, I'd love to, but he still doesn't want anyone to know. He hasn't even talked to Celty about it!” Shinra sighs loudly, and there's rustling on his end, like he's working as he talks. “I can't believe he's actually confiding in you about it. I'm his friend!”

“I'd hardly call it confiding. He doesn't care what I think, and that's all. Besides, he knows I can help him.”

“I'm sure you're making it especially hard on him. Please, pretend to be a kind person, for once, and take care of him. Celty is worried about him. She's known what happened since he was bitten, but she doesn't want to invade his privacy.”

“Oh, invade his privacy all you want. Take it from me, it's lots of fun.” Izaya splashes into a puddle, his mood brightened by Shizuo's misery. Of course the monster would isolate himself from his little friends. Shizuo has always had a habit of making himself be alone, even when he had plenty of options.

“I'm still suspicious that you had something to do with this. It's going a little too well for you, isn't it?”

“Shinra, you give me far too much credit. As much as I wish I could be the mastermind you think of me as, I'm not involved in everything. Shizu-chan has enemies who aren't me, and some of them are incredibly powerful. It was only a matter of time before he pissed off the wrong person.”

“Right, right. You're just the worst person I know, so it makes sense to blame you. Anyway, call me if anything changes! I'll tell Celty you were as secretive and unhelpful as always.” Shinra hangs up then, and Izaya puts his phone back in his pocket, his mood still too good to be sullied.

He decides to go to a local Taiwanese place for takeout. As much as he would love to pop into Ikebukuro, he still has work to do, and he slept most of the day away. Takeout bag in hand, he skips through the streets, waving happily at those who stop to stare at him. He splashes through a few more puddles on the way, thinking to himself that he can't remember the last time he felt this good.

As he exits the elevator to his floor, he scoffs at the sight before him, reaching into his pocket to finger the handle of the knife hidden there.

“Why are you here again, Shizu-chan?” he asks.

“'S getting worse,” Shizuo grumbles, lifting his head to glare up at Izaya. He's sitting in front of Izaya's door, his knees pulled up to his chest, his expression defeated.

“It isn't getting worse, you idiot. You're half a year in.” Izaya releases his knife, realizing Shizuo isn't here to fight him. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocking the door and leaving it open behind him as he waltzes inside.

“It's fucking worse!” Shizuo barks, following after Izaya, as always. “I almost killed a man today!”

“You say that like it's surprising. You're always almost killing someone.”

“Flea!” Shizuo shouts, gripping the counter as he leans over it and snarls at Izaya, who gives him an extremely unimpressed look. “I wanted to tear a man's throat out with my teeth, and you're telling me it's normal!”

Izaya rolls his eyes. “I didn't say that. I said your condition isn't worse. I can't rid you of the bloodlust entirely. You know that already.”

“It's never been this bad before!”

“It has.” Izaya sighs and pulls his soup dumplings out of the takeout bag. “Shizu-chan, you can't be this stupid. You're a werewolf. You're always going to want to bite people. It's part of the experience.”

Shizuo growls at him, his grip splintering Izaya's counter.

“Besides, I don't know what you expect me to do. Even if it was getting worse, which it's not, there wouldn't be anything I could do,” Izaya continues. “I give you the tools you need every month to control yourself. If you can't do it, it's your problem.”

Shizuo roars in rage, so loudly the windows tremble. Izaya merely keeps pulling his containers out of the takeout bag, practically ravenous by this point. He forgot to eat dinner the night before, and he slept through breakfast and lunch. He pauses as a sudden thought occurs to him.

“Have you eaten today?” he asks.

Shizuo is breathing hard, clearly trying to reel himself in. He still bares his teeth at Izaya when he replies with a strangled, “no.”

“You're an idiot. I keep telling you, but it appears your skull is too thick to listen to me. You're not getting worse, you fucking neanderthal. You're just hungry.”

Shizuo opens his mouth to argue, and Izaya sends a dumpling soaring across the space between them so that it lands on Shizuo's tongue. The beast blinks in surprise, seems to consider spitting it out, and then chews thoughtfully, seemingly placated for now.

“I hope it burns your tongue off,” Izaya lilts. “Now get out.”

Grumbling loudly, Shizuo turns around and stalks towards the open door.

“By the way,” Izaya calls, “try not to bother me every time your stomach growls. I hate you, you know?”

“As if I like talking to you!” Shizuo snaps back.

“Yes, but you have to, don't you?” Izaya purrs. “You need me.”

Shizuo slams the door behind him, so hard it cracks the frame, but it hardly matters. Shizuo didn't have a retort, because there's really nothing left to say.

Izaya has finally won.

[having-a-hyperfixate]

The Final Day’‘

This is absolutely going to be long and rambley af so I’mma just put a cut here. This is just one massive post for the entire rest of the game.

Rindo is back in the RG somehow. Which makes less than no sense. What was that crazy beam. Shibuya is GONE there isn’t an RG to send him back to, even if someone did want to send him back?

That beam reminded me of the Jesus beams not gonna lie.

But… Fret. Presumably Nagi and Beat too. They’re. Gone. Poor Rindo… That’s the worst kind of gaslighting. Reality itself is gaslighting this poor kid. ‘Your best friend in the world is gone, so gone that no one remembers him. You don’t even get to mourn properly because there is no one TO mourn.’  I am also not okay.

I assume this random talking to us at Hachiko is the dude I saw a brief glimpse of in a screenshot from the final trailer. Hazuki Mikagi, okay. Everything about this is supremely weird. 

Leading this weirdo around and he asked how we feel about emotions? Um, what?

Was he responsible for that beam of light?

This whole thing is extremely unsettling, I don’t think I like it. The music is all… serene, this guy keeps asking existential questions, who even comes up to some kid clearly having a bad day and demands a tour of the city.

He knows Rindo’s name even though we never told him. Not sure if that was a slip or an intentional nudge that Something is going on but there we go.

‘I should take this chance to apologize for Kubo. He’s a real piece of work.’ WHAT. YOU SEND HIM TO SHINJUKU?!?! IS THIS KID GOD!? WHAT!??!

‘Exorcised’. Like a demon. Which is a psychic rank you can get in the first game, and probably this game, ergo, a thing that exists in this universe.

Okay. So this Hazuki guy is Something Else. I dunno if he’s an Angel or higher or WHAT. He’s something. And he “exorcised” what Fuckwad had Fallen to when he decided not to stop at Shinjuku and continue on to Shibuya. But he only did this after Rindo faught so hard to stop it. And then he gave Rindo what he thought Rindo wanted. And now he’s here trying to understand why Rindo is miserable. Which to us, as humans, is obvious: the people he loved, the connections and family he had made through the game are all gone and worse, no one remembers they ever existed.

And now he’s being offered the chance to try again. This feels like a double edged sword. And I don’t care.

Okay I actually kind of appreciate the thing Hazuki is pulling here. He knows what it is that Rindo wants, I’m pretty sure he’s listening to his thoughts, actually, and in order to make Rindo own up to it he’s arguing the ‘no’ position. Giving Rindo someone to argue against so he can convince himself.

WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAPPEN AT UDAGAWA.

Bruh some of these clips were in the announcement trailer.

(I can’t wait to read the secret reports. That’s gonna be a wild ride.)

Oooooh that’s what ‘exorcised’ means. That is hardcore. He definitely deserved it but that is uh. Slightly inconvenient.

Can we actually contact Rhyme this time PLEASE. Oooh Rindo worked out Kaie is waiting for Rhyme. :O I’M FINALLY GONNA GET MY MASSIVE COUNTER OFFENSIVE FUCK YES. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH I’M PUMPED LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOO!!!!

Who’s gonna protect them. Beat. Really. Just give them the damn pins at this point. They both know their ways around a fight and Kaie might need the backup. If we lose, we’re all toast regardless, and if we win everyone gets put back where they belong.

AAAAAAAAAAAH SHE’S HERE!!! RHYME!!!! Aw… She can’t see Neku and Shoka cuz they’re actually dead. That’s really depressing. Makes sense but like. Oof. Especially for Neku.

I love that Rhyme still has a saying for everything.

This timeline is going to be a mess by the time I get everything positioned correctly lmao

Beat’s ‘How do you know about my sister?! Right, future.’ is never going to NOT be funny. It’s very refreshing to have a time travel plot where people just listen when he tells them shit needs to happen.

Is it acutaly Shiki time ohh my god. I might cry. Please tell me she has a face now. If her face is still illegal I will actually scream.

I’m offended. We didn’t get to go see Shiki. The betrayal. OH but now we might be? Stop playing with me, game. GIVE. ME. SHIKI.

Rindo was freaking out that we weren’t gonna be able to get rid of all the Noise around the café and I definitely threw my hands up and yelled when I saw the word ‘zeptogram’. And I read it before he said it, cuz I read v. fast. Nice to see you again, idiot. Please don’t go berserk again.

I am. Very impressed that Minamimoto managed to work out where the Dissonance Noise are coming from, down to the exact energy source that creates them. He nailed it. Well done sir.

I think… he’s proposing we awaken the city and use the energy generated by the thoughts and emotions of the living people to neutralize some of the Dissonance Noise that are waiting in the pin. Erode some of its power.

“How about this: I’ll talk, you type.” Lmao.

I got denied Shiki again. Part of me is annoyed. The other part of me is like ‘are they saving her entrance for when she can see Neku again properly because I can live with that’.

OH the Hishima cutscene is voiced now OKAY. Guess that means this is the one. Rhyme is voiced too. This is gonna be it.

And she speaks Minamioto. Coo.

Huh. Neku’s power is to sync with people. Which he learned to do in the first game. From Mr H, with the harmonizer pin. (Twister is playing and I have Emotions help) And now he’s gonna do it on an absolutely MASSIVE scale. This is insane. I am 1,000% here for it. Sync, Dive, Remind. And if I had to guess, we’re doing this atop 104.

Alright Shiba. ‘Mere. Tsugumi’s eyes aren’t all freaky anymore yay. Oh snap. He’s gonna unleash the Plague Noise against the Dissonance ones. Nice. Turnabout is fair play. I’m kinda sad Fuckwad isn’t here to witness that.

Alright. Change. Our. Fate.

SHIIIIIIIIIIKKKKKKKKKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I gave myself a headache ow.

“07734.” “Ew. Hey! Don’t just spout off numbers and walk away, you jerk!” That was amazing.

FUCK ME SIDEWAYS. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. NO. NO WAY. I DIDN’T THINK THERE WAS ANY WAY. OH. MY. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. This is the first time Neku’s seen him since Joshua failed to stop Coco from killing him. I’m. A puddle. Help. Neku looked so happy. My cat is slightly concerned haha.

Neku still holds his hands like he’s got the headphones. The same pose as in the first game when you scan. This gives me all the feels.

“They’re just mindless thoughts” Okay so I’m mentally exhausted at this point and I processed that as ‘thots’ and it was hilarious. BEGONE THOTS.

Okay this thing right here? This is a final boss. And it is cool as fuck. Too bad it’s trying to END ME. So cool. SO. COOL. Here comes phase 2 lol. I died and had to redo it. FML.

That. Was awesome. A worthy successor to the epic final strike of the first game. 999% eh?

I continue to not like Shinjuku rules. Once you’re a Reaper, leaving means you get erased once the game ends? Disrespectfully, fuck that. Oh don’t you dare, Shoka. Don’t. You. Dare.

Oh, Joshua is here. PLEASE. Lmao Shoka’s reaction. I’m sure he appreciates that, the drama queen.

*facepalms* Joshua strikes again. I’ve missed you, you little shit. You are terrible, but I missed you. Rindo, I’m pretty sure she’s fine. I think captain helpful over here reincarnated her for you. Since you saved him and his city. I guess I’ll see though.

Uzuki and Kariya continue to be adorable. I love them. And yeah, good luck calling in that debt from Minamimoto, Coco. Gooooood luck.

I’m having a lot of Joshua centered emotions right now there is too much Joshua all at once help. “I should have known I could trust you.” You are killing me dude. You really, really should have. I’m going to turn that line over in my head for way too long, I just know it, but let’s try to get through this before my brain turns off completely. “Let’s not keep her waiting.” OKAY THANKS I’M GONNA CRY AGAIN.

What Hazuki was saying about ‘purifying’ as opposed to ‘destroying’ Shinjuku makes me think that restarting it in some form was always part of the plan, so hopefully they’ll have luck with that. It’s still profoundly fucked up that any of that happened, and even more so that it was sanctioned. I’m. Going to be hung up on that for a while once it sinks in.

This poor idiot hitting on Rhyme is about to get got oh no XD

Shiki is breaking my heart. Aaaaaaaah!!! Reunioooooon.

Ooof it’s been a month since Rindo saw Shoka. Big oof. Joshuaaaaaa.

And then they almost got hit by a car lmao. OMG HE MISSED HER FRIEND REQUESTS AHAHAHAHAH YOU GOOBER. Neku really should have warned them that Joshua is Like That lol. Even when he’s being helpful it’s in the must backhanded way possible.

I would very much like to know why on earth Shinjuku needed to be obliterated though. Like. Does that… Happen often? Maybe the secret reports say.

Speaking of, time to get those, along with the rest of the trophies.

!!!! The title screen updated, NICE. Can’t let anyone who hasn’t beaten it see that but NICE.

There’s another Another Day. Oh boy. I am not ready for that madness yet.

Random thought as I was moving this from word, where I typed it: I’m really, really fucking glad they didn’t decide to deal with Mr H the way they dealt with sleezy mcfuckwad. That would have been… I don’t have a word.

[sage-nebula]

Neo: The World Ends With You - Thoughts So Far

I’m on Day 6 of Week 1 and I want to compile my thoughts so far — not in a formal post, but at least all in one place, especially since I feel that jotting down what I think / feel as I go through will help me write my review when I’m done. Spoilers under the cut, obviously — and while it should go without saying, do NOT comment on this post with spoilers from later in the game, so help me. Even if I pose a question that gets answered later on — hell, especially if I do — don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I will find out in my own time.

With that said . . .

So obviously, I’m really enjoying it so far. You can tell that the writers / devs haven’t lost their touch despite it being thirteen years since the first game was made. You can also tell that a lot of love went into this; this isn’t something they churned out just to make money (if they thought this was a moneymaker we wouldn’t have had to wait 13 freaking years for the sequel), but rather something they really, really wanted to make. Not a total passion project, because those aren’t allowed in the world of capitalism, but there is still a lot of love there. 

That said, more specific thoughts:

THE MUSIC. It doesn’t really come as a surprise given that TWEWY’s soundtrack was phenomenal, but god, they brought it right back for this game. The remixes (“Someday”, “Three Minutes Clapping”, “Transformation”, “The One Star” etc) are all excellent, but the new tracks are phenomenal too. Tbh I’m not sure how any of the Players get any fighting done when the music makes you want to just bust a move right there in the scramble. It’s so good.

Most of the characters are great too. Of the Wicked Twisters, I think Fret is my favorite; he is pure of heart, dumb of ass, and I love that for him. I do like Rindo too, of course, and his habit of overthinking everything (since Fret has zero brain cells, Rindo has to make up for it), but him being standoffish / socially anxious and snarky makes him feel a bit like a toned down Neku, so he doesn’t catch my interest quite as much. And while I do like Nagi, the way she speaks in like . . . medieval-esque language is a bit off-putting. In particular it’s weird that Rindo didn’t tell her to knock it off with the “Lord Rindo” stuff since using such an honorific would be considered awkward / embarrassing in Japanese. I guess he’s just too socially anxious / awkward to tell her to stop, but it’s still a bit distracting.  Other than that, I’m really not a fan of Kubo (one of the Reapers) or . . . Susukichi, I think his name is? The leader of the Ruinbringers. I find them both to be pretty annoying, haha. But I love Shoka, as well as Kanon, and Motoi is a good bean, too. As for the Deep River Society . . . those nerds have issues lmao. Especially their leader. Although I can’t fault him for breaking down sobbing when he realizes that he now stands a very good chance of getting erased, which reminds me . . .

HOW ARE WE ON DAY SIX AND THE WICKED TWISTERS STILL HAVE NO IDEA WHAT BEING ERASED IS?? We have kind of an inverse situation where where Neku knew right away that he would get erased if he failed the missions / didn’t win the Game, but didn’t find out until later that he was dead. Here, the Wicked Twisters learn that they’re dead fairly quickly (and Fret has some realistic denial going on about it at first, though he gets over it pretty quickly), but they’re still completely in the dark about the fact that their souls will get wiped from existence if they lose despite erasure being mentioned at least a handful of times. Like I guess it was never spelled out for them, but especially as someone who played the first game about a million times, it’s a bit maddening to see them be like, “Why is he crying like his life is on the line? lol whatevs no big deal la di da!” Since the Wicked Twisters aren’t aware of the stakes, a new player wouldn’t be either, and so it rather tones down the urgency that was felt in the original game where everyone was very much aware that they were fighting for their right to exist.

Since I brought up Motoi, I want to say that I just played past the part where he reveals that he was An0ther, who is apparently Rindo’s favorite blogger / poet. I feel like this is meant to be similar to how Hanekoma was CAT, Neku’s favorite artist, but it doesn’t carry the same impact because a.) as far as we know An0ther didn’t have anything to do with how Rindo died; b.) we haven’t seen Rindo bring An0ther or his poetry up that much, much less have anything An0ther said be his entire life’s mantra; c.) we haven’t gotten to know Motoi that well either. Like we met him once before this revelation. That said I’m not sure it was supposed to have the same impact as the Hanekoma = CAT reveal, but if it was then it did fall short. (Also I saw it coming the second Motoi quoted An0ther lmao.)

Speaking of Hanekoma, WHERE IS MY MANS??? I know he has to show up at some point because if I’m not mistaken we saw him in the trailers. And if I am mistaken then he still has to show up at some point because he played a central role in the “A New Day” epilogue chapter of Final Remix, what with Coco being unable to control him and him knowing what was going on, plus he was testing Neku for something in “Another Day” and that has to be whatever is going on in this game. I’m sure he’ll come in for some big reveal later, but like, we have a new street artist in this game (MKN) with no mention of CAT as of yet, and I’m just like . . . where is he. Where is my mans. What is he doing. Bring him to me.

That said, we already got to see my #2 mans (Kariya♥) so I am happy about that at least. 

Back to my mans for a hot second: I actually erased my demo save data and started fresh to remind myself of everything when I got the game, and idk if it was in the demo or not, but regardless—at the end of the demo portion there’s this shot of the sky and then this nameless voice is like, “It’s finally starting. I hope you wake up soon. I don’t want you to miss all the action.” My current guess is that the speaker was Hanekoma, speaking to Joshua. Joshua being “asleep” would explain why the Game is as screwed up as it is right now, what with it having been going on for a year and people able to choose to play again and again and again while the rest of the Players—who tbh should also be counted as winners if they survive the week!—are trapped in limbo.

Because that’s the thing: I know that it was partially a lie to cover for the fact that Joshua’s game with Megumi was set to last three weeks, but at the end of the third week Megumi told Neku that a new rule was being put in place that wouldn’t allow repeats of the Game anymore. But even setting that aside, in the original Shibuya UG rules, anyone who survived the Game could get a wish at the end, whether that was to be brought back to life or made into a Reaper. This is why at the end of Week 1, the three winners were Neku, Shiki, and Beat. However, here the Ruinbringers are able to keep everyone trapped and they have been trapped for at least a year, given what Motoi said. It’s completely different rules and I’m sure that this has something to do with the fact that the majority of the Reapers we’ve seen so far are from Shinjuku (at least going by the spoilery trailer, and iirc it was confirmed in “A New Day” that Coco was from Shinjuku actually, but it’s been a while so I could be wrong about that).

Speaking of, has anyone noticed that the possibly-Shinjuku Reapers don’t have wings? No?

ALSO speaking of Coco, at least tangentially: Coco was the one who revived Minamimoto at the end of “A New Day”. However, he’s definitely not how I would have expected. Like despite Coco using the Taboo Noise sigil to bring him back, he’s clearly not in his Taboo form. He’s using psychs as a Player would, rather than a Reaper. And while it’s clear he’s up to some form of nonsense, it’s unclear exactly what form of nonsense he’s up to. I know that he’s here for fanservice and that him looking like Nagi’s bias from Elegant Strategy is a tongue-in-cheek nod to that, but I have too much faith in this series to think that’s all this is. I’m wondering if being revived for a second time fixed whatever screws were loose in his head before? Or if he was revived as a human Player by like, Joshua or something? (Although why Joshua would do that I have no idea. Maybe Hanekoma instead?) Hmmm . . .

Small aside, but we all know that Nagi has put herself into hundreds of thousands of yen in debt for Tomonami merch lolol RIP Nagi. (I’m also interpreting that she’s not actually older than Rindo or Fret, but she just skipped a bunch of grades. Like I feel like this might have been lost in translation a bit, and that she’s a senpai to them because she’s in uni but she’s not actually older than them. I could be wrong but that’s how I’m interpreting it right now. She just doesn’t look or act older than them.)

Oh another minor annoyance, but whether it’s due to the partial 3D environment or something else, I’m SO ANNOYED that some of the streets aren’t connecting as they should now. Like, how going in the direction of Molco spits you out at Spain Hill or 104 or whatever? I don’t remember exactly what area it was, but it wasn’t Molco!! I’m sure if I hadn’t played the original a million times like a loser this wouldn’t be such a big deal to me, but I have and it is lmao. Also, they’ve had the Shibuya Underpass / Cat Street blocked off this whole time and I’m like :( let me go to Cat Street :( let me see my mans

I’m relieved that Ken Doi is still making delicious food and I look forward to his ramen curry fusion. I was really upset about RamenDon being gone at first but as long as Ken Doi is still around I am happy.

My dinner just arrived so this is all I have to say for now, but I will update more as I play more. I love this game and I’m so happy to be back in Shibuya, even if the characters pronounce it wrong sometimes (saying “ShiBOOya” like pls . . . you are supposed to be Japanese . . . get it right . . .)

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Sk8 2 - 8 | Kemono Jihen 2 - 3 | Wave!! 2 - 5 | Back Arrow 3 - 6

Sk8 2

What’s with the filter over the recap?

These dance moves are cool (a derpy kind of cool)…but I’m seeing them all with the volume off (due to background noise), so I’ll have to find out what the audio is like later. Update: Rude-Alpha! Someone I actually do know!

I was worried about Truck-kun causing another Isekai Incident ™ there…phew…*wipes sweat off brow*

Is Langa…left-handed, perhaps? Or are left-handers not necessarily better with their left foot?

Langa’s mother’s so funny! It’s rare to see a mother who isn’t dead or just not talked about in anime.

Why is it that parody Sailor Moon transformations always happen with the buffest dudes possible…? That’s why it’s rare to get something like Boueibu, where it takes itself (semi-)seriously.

Lately, the urban aesthetic is cool. HypMic, Akudama, IWGP and now this…

Langa is 17. *takes notes on eligible bachelors, LOL*

“A huge family only embarrasses you.” – *nods*

I see! Although I don’t know anything about skateboarding, I can relate to him when he’s fixing a board up for Langa because I can see it’s Reki using his passion for a friend.

Oh, that’s why they call it Sk8 the Infinity…!

I keep calling it “wiping out” in my head when I watch…I’m no surfer, but I guess I’m more used to surfing lingo.

Hitori piledriver = piledriver by oneself ( I guess…?).

Sk8 3

I’ve never heard of this Takuma Nagatsuka (voice of Miya Chinen). He sounds like Kohei Amasaki…

Hmm…normally skateboarders wear protective gear, right? Couldn’t Langa have gotten some of that (now that I think of it)?

I guess this is also Reki’s pride as a board mechanic on the line here…never saw it that way until I thought about it like that.

I think I remember reading a comment once about Bakugo and Midoriya from BnHA – about how Bakugo seemed sluggish in his progress because he’d been training his Quirk from day 1, while Midoriya was trying to catch up. I think Chinen is in a similar situation.

I think what Chinen has is stability, above all others.

There’s a piece of paper in the back that has “supoort” (sic) written on it.

Chinen’s not…“smiling with his eyes”, you call it. In retail, you learn how to smile with the eyes even when it’s fake.

Kemono Jihen 2

Inari? Like the fox shrine?

So Shiki is a spider-guy and…what is Akira? I’ve heard whispers he’s a yukiotoko, but I don’t know at this point in time.

Kabane’s kinda short, LOL, even in comparison to Akira.

Shiki is definitely Bakugo, Spider Version…LOL.

Oh, BnHA came out in 2014 and Kemono Jihen in 2016 (manga).

Oh, that drip apparatus. I’ve only ever seen it in real life, I think – my dad uses one for his coffee.

Kemono Jihen 3

…hmm, I don’t think I’ve seen much set in Shinjuku. I think there’s Mayonaka Occult Koumuin, part of HypMic…and that might be it.

I laughed at “small meeting room”.

Apparently “biddy bait”, according to Urban Dictionary, is meant to mean “a lure for hot women”. I don’t particularly like Urban Dictionary, because the editors who make these definitions are clearly biased in some way or another while writing their definitions, unlike an actual dictionary.

Aw, come on! Why is it fire from the tail?! Fire from the mouth like a dragon is cooler!

Kabane’s getting ahead of himself! (LOL)

Just noticed Kon’s hoodie has a design that says FOX, but the X is inside the O.

…thank goodness for Shiki’s hand…

Akira’s been a bit of dead weight recently, so I hope he gets developed soon.

Back Arrow 3

I wonder if Shu Bi is asexual and/or aromantic…?

“…inherited the spirit of the former sheriff…” – That’s Atlee’s job…oh wait. It’s about the undies again…

This is fishy…this whole “paradise is beyond the canyon” thing.

Ooh, I get the feeling Shu Bi and Arrow will either come to blows with each other or fight on the same side…

Sk8 4

I wonder if episode 8 will look weird in the titles…? I mean, it will be “Sk8 8”…

I would think Reki’s straightforward emotions would be spiky shapes.

I knew women were something objectified by S, but…Langa, the deuteragonist? That’s new.

It just hit me: This would be so good with a dub…!

*Langa casually eats 10 burgers* - LOL.

“This has gotta be way too late!”

So now an anime character has stolen a motorcycle…LOL.

Back Arrow 4

The title of this episode seems to be “Is Today Yesterday’s Tomorrow?”, the service’s title that I’ve got in front of me is “Does Genius Come When Least Expected?”

This map reminds me of +Anima’s continent.

I seem to remember Boueibu was constructed as half an episode of idle talking, half fighting. Why do I bring this up? Because Back Arrow seems to be constructed similarly, episode-wise.

The reason I like the hot-blooded mech series and not the serious ones…is stupid things (<- I mean that affectionately) like Shu Bi pulling out a phone in a world like this.

What’s with the shot of Elsha’s butt…? I know it seems somewhat justified, considering the position her Briheight’s in…but the leery angle is a bit annoying.

…I keep thinking Bit will get a Briheight one day and he’ll be like Zenitsu – powerful only when he doesn’t know it.

Shin Fusui, right? “Ren Sin” kinda makes sense, given we didn’t know any better, but so does “Ren Shin”…Sin as a first name though…? Anyways, it’s Shin Fusui, Kei Suiitsu, Nen Kasei and Ko Chisen. Their names match their elements.

I never realised how skimpy Kei’s outfit was until she was without her Briheight on the ground…eesh, women and their skimpy outfits in this universe…

Wave!! 2

I’m going to differentiate this anime from the other Wave (Wave, Listen to Me) with 2 exclamation marks…also, I’m not able to mark this episode down until 4 episodes have gone, or until AniList makes a TV entry for this. Update: AniList did eventually make an entry for the TV version (i.e. the version I'm working off) of this anime.

Nalu was playing an invisible ukulele even in the bath, LOL.

I noticed Masaki keeps his corgi between his legs so that the dog doesn’t run away. That’s probably only a thing dog owners do, because I don’t think anyone inexperienced with pets would know if they could do such a thing.

Why do I get the feeling the symbol on one of Masaki’s shoulders is (meant to be) Rip Curl…?

I read some of the 4koma for this series (found on the website) and…Sho’s so cute, envying this ‘warm family”. Nalu still has his ukulele, even at the dining table, LOL.

LOL, random rainbow. Every time I read subs about Masaki extolling surfing, I’m reminded of what I call “translator’s high”. It’s the feeling of working under deadlines and being inspired to churn out a high-quality release.

…well, this is a surfing anime. I should have known this would talk about places that get lots of hot weather and big waves (like Australia) because Joel Parkinson is from Tweed Heads, Sydney.

Who’s Jojo Pardinen?

Why does Masaki call Tanaka “Murphy”?

Wave!! 3

Oh, so that man is Masaki’s dad…Right.

The real spirit of characters is shown after they’re defeated…that’s my thoughts, anyway.

I know what a repechage is…in fact, I learnt about that through the FP and M manga.

Oh! It’s “Nalu”, but written “Naru”.

Wave!! 4

Is there a 3rd place in these competitions?

Wait, so the guy in the pink shirt is Masaki’s dad, but then the Hawaiian shirt dude owns the shop. Am I right on this now…?

There is a magical girl called Sally, IIRC, and the description does match.

LOL, I like how the teacher is so indecisive.

Back Arrow 5

Shu Bi’s so pretty…I had my eyes on him from the beginning and now that’s paying me back tenfold.

I wonder if Shu will ever get a Briheight…? (I wanna see it!)

Back Arrow 6

Pretty boy farms!!! It sounds like abuse in a sense, but it also sounds like a dream (?!)

Bit reminds me of Sousuke (Classicaloid).

Oh, so the funky gold hat-thing with the purple ribbon is what the head diviner wears.

LOL wut…his name is “Bruh”? *tries to hide stupid smirk on face*

Wait, if it’s a pretty boy farm, how do you produce new pretty boys without women…? *scratches head*

Question: What is Gote’s conviction?

Wave!! 5

Kadomatsu (the bamboo), huh? Must be New Year’s. Likewise, the bush warbler (uguisu) means it’s spring.

Sk8 5

Milk, straight from the carton…*sigh* Boys… Update: (This is referring to how guys are typically shown chugging straight from the carton. As you can tell from the comment, I don't particularly like it.)

I like how suddenly, all the barriers come down for these guys, even though Kaoru said at one point they shouldn’t be coming down.

Battle of Ganryujima.

Sk8 6

…this woman Reki has the hots for is going to be a dude…that’s normally how this joke works.

Oh well, that was also a funny moment.

“Dangerous stuff is forbidden.”

Hiromi in a swimsuit is…vaguely disturbing.

Kamata? Y’mean, she has the word for “scythe” in her name and she’s a “mantis woman”? Makes sense.

Even on their day off, the Sk8 crew are fun to be with.

Sk8 7

Whoa! Straight to the OP!

…I’m suddenly scared. What if Langa’s mother gets put in danger…? (Like in Kanon.)

Sk8 8

I want Langa to punch Adam. In the face. Now!

…is Snake…Ainosuke’s butler? I can sort of guess from the hair…and the matching theme [of Adam, Eve and the snake in paradise]…

It is the butler!

[izaswritings]

all that’s left in the world | chapter two

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: some cursing, implied/referenced character death a la Neku’s situation/Reaper’s game, references to canonical murder attempts (successful and failed), implied suicide mentions (nothing explicit, just… as a way to get into the Game), self-esteem issues abound, and Joshua. Just… Joshua.

-

AO3 Link is here!

Part One is here!

-

part two: shiki

.

She knows even before she gets the call, Beat inconsolable over the phone. She knows, in some way, from the moment she wakes up, that very morning. Mr. Mew’s stitching is ripped and Neku is late for their meeting; she and Eri go shopping alone. It’s not the first time it has happened, and Eri is fine, even more upbeat than usual when she hears it’s just them today—but Shiki, for a moment there at Ten-Four, stands looking in a shop window feeling like the floor has fallen out beneath her feet, like everything has tilted to just that one degree left to off and now no matter what she tries, it’s never going to be the same again.

So, yeah. She knows. She picks up the phone for the second time this morning with her fingers already going numb, her gut all tied up in knots, Mr. Mew strangled in her other hand. She answers the phone.

She says, “Beat, I— I don’t understand, I’m sorry, what happened? Beat, what happened? Where’s Neku? I just talked to him, I was just talking to him—is he with you? Beat?”

She listens. “Beat, where are you?”

She doesn’t move. She feels like she’s barely breathing. She talks into the phone, and she can’t even hear her own voice, the roaring in her ears is so loud.

Minutes later. Shiki hangs up the phone. She closes her eyes.

There’s a beat. Ten-Four is aflutter around her; the murmuring crowd and the click of shoes against the ground and the way the light warps and reflects, bouncing off the glass, twisting around each shadow. It’s midday on a Monday and Shibuya is awake and alive, and Shiki feels like a stranger.

Eri says, “Shiki?”

Shiki blinks. She swallows. She’s still holding the phone, she realizes, and it takes effort to click it closed, to put it away. Her hands are cold.

Eri’s standing in front of her, eyes wide. They’re in the middle of the walkway, the crowd rushing around them. She has shopping bags in one hand and a smile that’s fallen to worry. “Shiki! What’s wrong? Was that Neku?”

Shiki flinches, and then curls her hand. “N-no,” she says. She takes a breath. Then another. Something settles in her. “No, no, it was— Eri, um, I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“What? But—”

“Sorry. Sorry. I just— I have somewhere I need to be,” Shiki says, and she says this last bit very quietly, decided and cold to her core, a whisper to herself. “Eri— Eri, can I ask a favor?”

Eri has already put down her bags. She looks freaked. “Of course, Shiki, anything, but what—”

“My friend, Beat— h-he saw— he needs some help right now. He’s by the CAT mural in Udagawa. Can you go help him get home? Beat’s calling Rhyme, and I’m sure they’ll get him back safe but— I'd feel a lot better if you could help too.”

“Sure,” Eri whispers. They’re in their own little bubble in the crowd, and Eri has come close, shopping bags left on the floor and her bare hands taking Shiki’s wrists. “Sure, of course, whatever it is but—Shiki, what happened? Where are you going?"

Shiki stares down at the floor. She doesn’t answer, doesn’t know how to answer, and in the end she just stays silent. She tugs her wrists from Eri’s grip, and turns to pick up Mr. Mew with both hands, looking down at his face. There’s comfort in this—the stitching she knows by heart, that she did by hand; the reminder of the power, and the life she once breathed into him. Her hands tighten. Her fingers leave little dimples in his black fur. Because Mr. Mew is answer enough, isn't it? She feels so cold, but she isn't surprised, not really. She woke up this morning feeling like the world was off-kilter, and even though she hadn’t needed Mr. Mew with her for weeks, she'd brought him with her today.

“Shiki?”

Her eyes feel hot and wet. She presses her lips. “Eri,” she says. “Please just trust me. I—I have to—I have somewhere I need to go.”

Eri looks panicked. Her hands flutter by Shiki's shoulders. She laughs, bubbly and bright and all Eri, but it wavers at the edges.  “I—”

Shiki meets her gaze. “Please,” she repeats. Her grip on Mr. Mew is very tight. “He’s by the CAT mural. He’s… he’s not doing okay.”

Eri bites her lip hard. “Okay,” she whispers. She swallows and looks around and makes as if to pick up her shopping bags, almost, before she seems to think better of it and pulls her hand back, fluttering in the air. “Okay, okay. I will.” She searches Shiki’s face. “You better call me, okay? Shiki, promise you’ll call me.”

If this goes right, Shiki won’t be able to call her. Shiki won’t be able to call anyone. But she can’t say that. Eri doesn’t know—not about the Game, not about anything. Even if she did, she still wouldn’t let Shiki go.

And Shiki has to do this.

Shiki exhales. “Okay.”

Eri’s face falls. She’s always known when Shiki lied to her. She reaches out and Shiki steps back. “Thanks, Eri,” Shiki says, voice tight, and then she turns on her heel and runs for it before she can think better of what she is about to do.

.

Neku told them all the whole story, in the end; Neku tells them everything. The missing gaps and the hollow pieces and who that pale-haired boy had really been, down there in the Shibuya River, on that final day. He told them, even though he wasn’t supposed to, and at the time Shiki had nodded and listened and tried not to feel sick, and she'd said all the things that needed to be said, like “Why do you still trust him?” and “Okay, Neku, but—” and “Even so. If—if he ever—you know I always have your back, right?”

And Neku had smiled at her. “I know,” he'd said.

But Shiki had taken something else from that truth too, in a way Beat and even Rhyme had not: she had understood. She understands what it’s like. Once, not as long ago as either of them would like, Neku had lifted Shiki into the air and strangled her with her own shirt collar. He tried to kill her. And afterwards he said sorry like it had to be pulled out from between his teeth, and Shiki had accepted that because Shiki accepted everything back then, especially terrible things, because Shiki had known she was an awful person and so bad things in return were just deserved.

Neku hadn’t really been sorry then; in her secret heart of hearts, Shiki hadn’t really forgiven him, either. She would, though. At the end of the sixth day, five minutes before the ad was set to air and they were waiting with bated breath to know the outcome, Shiki had apologized for slowing them down—and Neku, Neku had looked away and said, awkward and quiet and like he didn’t know the right way to be kind: “That's okay. It’s fine. We, um. We all have our bad days.”

She’d looked at him, then. She thought about everything he’d said to her, how she’d bared all her ugly secrets and he’d accepted it like it was fine. How he’d told her she was lucky to be jealous—to have something to strive for—to have a friend so wonderful you could be jealous of them—and how those words had sunk in where everything else had slipped off. The envy ate at her, sometimes, like a rot in her gut; in no world could Shiki ever imagine being able to leave it behind.

So to hear that? That this envy didn't have to be a bad thing? That she could be jealous and still love Eri, be jealous and still be herself—learn to love herself? That it was Neku who gave her that?

And that day, at the end, she said, “Neku? Thanks,” but what she really meant was I forgive you.

So she understands, a little, the thing between Neku and the boy named Joshua, even if she doesn’t like it. She understands. And when Neku told her the story, she took it and tucked it away, that Joshua was Composer and powerful and dangerous and sometimes cruel—but he was also someone Neku trusted.

And she’s thinking of that, still—remembering the story, and the way Neku told it; remembering forgiving Neku. And she’s thinking of the Reapers, and the Game, and of that last day in the rain, facing the Game Master head-on, standing up and standing strong and saying: I'm coming back to Eri, and you aren’t stopping me.

She looks up into the entrance of the Shibuya River. She curls her fingers to fists. Mr. Mew dangles from one hand.

She walks inside with her head held high, and refuses to let herself shake.

.

The door lets her through. She’s not sure why—if it's because she’s in the RG or if it’s because there are so few higher-ranking Reapers left to challenge him that Joshua honestly doesn’t see a reason to block her or anyone else out—but Shiki’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, as Rhyme would say, so she sets her jaw and pulls back her shoulders, and marches right on in.

It’s... as creepy as it was the first time around, she thinks, and cold, too, even with her sweater. She shivers a little and draws the green cardigan higher up her shoulders, taking strength from it. Mr. Mew is a comforting weight in her hands, but the deeper she walks in the more Shiki has to double-check: the warmth of her green sweater, the darker tan of her hands compared to Eri’s, the bobbed cut of her darker hair and the thin weight of her glasses on her nose. She’s Shiki. She’s herself. No matter what she remembers of this place, she’s here now stronger and better than before. She’s walking these halls with her own two feet.

Despite her conviction, though: it really is creepy. The quiet drip of the water from above, the slow trickle of the deadened river, the long, empty hall stretching on and on. She exhales hard and isn’t surprised when her breath fogs.

“Hello?” Shiki tries, and no, nope—the silence is somehow worse when nothing answers. She exhales harder, angry at her own fear, and draws herself tall. Her footsteps click quiet down the hallway. She’s dressed well for this. She likes these boots. Comfortable, cute, and good for running. “Helloooo?”

Nothing.

She thinks of the phone call, of Beat babbling over the speaker. “It happened again, yo, I saw—I wasn’t fast enough—I wasn’t enough, Shiki, I—I'm sorry, Phones—oh, fuck, Phones—”

When she speaks again, she feels very cold. “I know you can hear me. Or, I guess—you should. You probably already know I’m here. Maybe you even let me in... I don’t know.” She hugs Mr. Mew to her chest. “Beat mentioned you. You saw what happened, right? You know what’s going on?” She stares into the darkness. Nothing. “I know we don't know each other very well, but I— Neku trusts you. Despite everything. So I’m going to try too.”

Still nothing. Shiki rubs one of Mr. Mew’s paws between her fingers and draws strength from the stitching. The remembered pride of creating this little stuffed cat, the dedication, her fingers bloody from needle-pricks and the way she’d smiled for days once she’d finished. “I need to talk to you,” she says, louder now. “I need to— I need your help! You’re the Composer, right? You brought us back, right? Joshua—”

“I didn’t say you could call me that.”

The voice is young, boyish, chiding… and utterly unexpected. Shiki startles so bad she almost falls over, and turns around so quick she almost gets whiplash. Mr. Mew is squeezed in a death grip. She splutters. “Y-You—that was—give some warning!”

The boy who had definitely not been there a second ago just smiles at her. Shiki’s heart abruptly lodges in her throat. She feels cold again. Oh, she thinks. She recognizes him. Only barely, only briefly, but... the pale hair, the bright eyes. The way he’s smiling. She knows him. Joshua—the Composer. Or something.

“Um,” Shiki starts, and then forgets everything she’d planned to say.

The boy waits, and when the silence stretches, he smiles. “What,” he says. His eyes are bright. “Nothing to say? And after you came all this way.”

That kickstarts her brain. Shiki takes a breath and sets her feet. It’s fine. She’s fine! Reapers and Noise and even a dragon... and maybe the Composer is stronger than all those things, but Shiki knew this going in. She knew the moment she answered the phone—the moment she walked up to the door.

“I need your help,” she says, and Joshua raises an eyebrow.

“Wow,” he says. “So forward. And demanding. And I should help you... or even listen to you, I might add... why, exactly?”

She stares at him. “Because Neku's—hurt,” she says, stumbling over the words. The boy's smile widens. She kind of hates it. “He needs our help!”

“Mm-hm.” Joshua tilts his head. “Okay. That doesn't answer my question, you realize.”

Okay. Okay. All-powerful being who could smite her or not, Shiki’s starting to get a little angry here. She takes a deep breath. “Neku… he’s in the Game again, right? I wanted to ask if you could—”

His eyes are suddenly cold. “Neku's dead,” Joshua says, blunt. Shiki falters, the words dying on her tongue. “I won’t stop the Game for him, or for anyone. Even if he was in my Game, I’m afraid that just isn’t done.” He smiles again, but his demeanor has visibly chilled. “Well, this was fun. See you—”

But Shiki isn't listening anymore. “That’s not what I was going to say!” she snaps, hotly. “I wasn’t going to ask you to—” Her mind derails. She stops. “Wait, w-what? What do you mean if he was—Neku’s not in the Reaper’s Game?”

Joshua’s tilted his head, though; he looks curious. “Oh?” He blinks. “Don’t tell me you want to join him in the Game. Trust me, you don't need my help for that.”

Yeah, Shiki knows. But she also knows she couldn’t. She couldn’t hurt Eri like that, couldn’t hurt Neku or Beat or her parents… couldn’t do that to herself. Maybe this body won’t ever be what Shiki wants it to be, maybe her reflection won’t ever quite match who Shiki knows she is… but it’s hers. She is Shiki Misaki, and she’s worth something all on her own, and she won’t forget that again. She’s not who she used to be.

But Joshua isn’t wrong, either: he just hasn’t figured it out yet, why out of all people Shiki needs his help, because the only way this works is if he agrees. “Maybe not,” she says, voice small. “But you’re the only one who could let me in as an illegal Player.”

Because Neku told her everything—even the lie, even what he’d thought was the truth. And this time when Joshua looks her over, reading her mind or just her face or whatever it is Composers do, she knows he gets it, because he finally stops smiling.

“...Huh,” he says, but he doesn’t sound much pleased. He crosses his arms, one hand lifting to twirl a strand of hair. “Hm. Well. An interesting idea.” He stops mid-motion. “Though you do realize that just because I break my own rules doesn’t mean I’m going to let you do the same, don’t you?”

“I—I get that,” she admits. “I do. But I'm not—I get it, I know Neku has to win the Game to come back, that’s the major rule, but—but the risk’s the same, right? If I get erased in the UG, I’ll die in the RG too, I’m just... skipping a step to the entry? The Game itself—I’m still playing with the same stakes! Um. R-right?” She thinks.

Joshua doesn’t say anything. His eyes are narrow. “It’s an entertaining idea, I’ll give you that. Unfortunately...” He trails off, hands rising in an open shrug, and sighs heavily, falsely regretful. “I’m afraid I just don’t have any more use for Neku, really. He’s done his duty, and very well, too... and now it’s time for him to retire. I advise you just accept it and move on.”

There’s static in her ears. Shiki is frozen still. She gapes at him. Joshua smiles back, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. He flicks his fingers at her. “Ta. You can leave now.”

“What are you saying?” She sounds so quiet, even to herself. Strangled. Cold all the way to her bones.

He sighs again. “Look—”

“How can you say that!?” Something’s buzzing in her ears, burning in her blood. She can’t breathe. “You can’t—how could you—I thought he was your partner too!”

Joshua’s smile flickers. Shiki barrels on before he can speak. “He'd do it for you!” she snaps, feeling something angry and hot climb up behind her eyes. When she'd died… it had mattered. Her parents had left flowers by the spot, and even Eri—Eri, who Shiki had been so afraid to see—she'd cared so much she'd almost given up her whole dream just because Shiki wasn't there with her. And it had hurt, to hear that—to know she was so loved, and how much she had left to lose by failing the Game—but it mattered. To hear that. To know.

So she can't imagine this—can't imagine if someone spoke about her the way this boy is speaking about Neku, like he's nothing, like he doesn't matter, like the only reason to save someone is because they're useful. It makes something coil in her gut. It makes her throat close up tight.

“He'd do it for you!” she repeats, scandalized, and Joshua isn't smiling at all now and she should really watch that—but she’s too angry, suddenly, too mad to think. Her arms are ramrod-straight by her side, Mr. Mew swinging from one shaking fist; she stomps her foot against the ground and it doesn't feel like enough. “He— he didn't shoot you in your stupid duel and he never hated you even when he was mad at you and he always invites you to our meetups and—and even I know that, he didn't even tell me that, I just know! Because you’re his partner! He—and you—”

She’s losing her words. She wants to scream. “Never mind! Never mind! I don't get why Neku cares about you at all! You clearly don't deserve it! I'll save Neku myself, you—you—argh!”

She wants to strangle him, but she’s not that far gone. Shiki stamps her foot again instead of hitting Joshua in the face like he deserves, and marches down the hall, shoving past him, heading for the exit. Fine, fine, fine. She'll figure something out. She will.

“Neku is a special brand of stupid.”

Shiki takes it back. She's going to hit him. She turns around, livid, words rising on her tongue, and then she sees Joshua fully and stops. He has one strand twisted around his finger; he's staring off into nothing, into the darkness of the sewer, looking something like thoughtful, or maybe tired, or maybe just blank. “He is,” he adds, when Shiki doesn't say anything. “Anyone else would have taken the shot. Should have...”

He trails off, then sighs again. “It doesn’t matter. Like I said before: he’s not in my Game. Someone’s trying to jack Shibuya, and frankly, she's annoyingly good at covering her tracks. If Neku’s in a Game, it’s not one I'm running.” He makes a face, briefly. “And fine, yes, I can guess where he is, but your idea only works if there’s other Players to pact with. If he’s where I think he is… and if she’s running it… well, I doubt there’s anything left in that city at all, Player or person. Even if I was so inclined to sneak you in, you’d be less than useless. No partner…”

He stops there, the words unsaid but understood. No partner, no power. Shiki would be nothing but more food for the Noise.

Shiki stares at him. She turns her eyes away. His admission has pulled the rug out on her anger; she’s not sure how to feel at all. “...Oh.”

“Mm.” He's silent, for a moment. Shiki stares at the ground. In the distance, water drips.

“Could...” Her voice falters. Shiki swallows. “Could you get me in,” she says, haltingly, “as an illegal Player... if I was already in a pact?”

He tilts his head, giggling a little at the thought. “Wow. You’re just full of ideas, aren’t you? Let me guess. Daisukenojo Bito? His sibling? Or what about your friend… Eri, was it?”

This time, though, Shiki’s ready for him. “What about you?"

He seems, for a moment, to be at a loss for words. Then he smiles again. “No.”

“But—”

“It's a grand idea, really. But you aren't really suited to be around, well, me—for a long period of time. And I can't exactly leave Shibuya unguarded.”

What? That’s news to Shiki. “But Neku was fine,” she says, bewildered, and Joshua smiles, a little sideways. 

“Well, he was fighting for you.”

Oh, Shiki thinks, and for a moment it just kind of hurts, to be reminded of that. To remember how much she'd come to mean to Neku. Like Eri almost giving up their dream—something painful, but not all bad. It’s never a bad thing, Shiki thinks, to know you’re loved. She draws herself taller. “Then it's fine,” she says stubbornly, and when Joshua raises an eyebrow at her, she says, “I'm playing for Neku. So it's fine.”

He snickers. “That's not at all how it works, but I'll give you points for tenacity.”

“I don't care,” Shiki says, more firmly. “If it's what we have to do, then I'll do it. I'll do whatever it takes.”

They finally got back. They were all finally together. And Shiki could look Eri in the eyes again and not hate herself while doing it, and Beat smiled all the time now and Rhyme, Rhyme was dreamless but happy and, they said, willing to try and find a dream again. Rhyme was alive.

Neku was happy.

Joshua’s smiles fades, a little. He considers her. Shiki stands still and tall and tries her best not to fidget.

Joshua takes a moment to think about it. He twirls one section of hair around his finger, tugging at the strand. And then he is smiling again, and that brightness is back in his eyes. “Well,” he says. “All right then, Shiki Misaki. You have yourself a deal.” His smile flashes to a grin. He giggles. “I guess you can call me Joshua after all... partner.”

Shiki meets his gaze and smiles back. He’s rude. He is, she realizes, a little cruel. When she can do so without getting immediately smited, she’s going to break his nose for ever talking like he was going to leave Neku to die. But maybe he does care about Neku, maybe it does mean something to him too, because she can't see any other reason why he'd agree.

And Neku trusts him.

Shiki isn’t sure if she feels the same, but she knows how the Game is played.

“Call me Shiki,” she agrees, and the last thing she hears before the pale flicker of the binding pact blinds her, and the world flickers around her like bad static, is Joshua, laughing again.

The pact snaps into place—

—and then Shiki is somewhere else.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Red to Brown

Summary: I wrote this for RiKai Week. And it was supposed to be a companion piece to my "Underwater", where in that Naminé--while visiting Verum Rex--is still hung-up on Sora, even though KHIII made it all SoKai time all the time, and she eventually realized she needed to get over him for that reason and did. This was supposed to be Riku in Shibuya still hung-up on Kairi and needing to get over that, which he does, but it ended up a little weird with some SoRiku in it, too (that he also gets over) and a little Riku/Shiki and Neku/Shiki. Also, beware of TWEWY spoilers if you haven't played/finished that game.

(And I am hoping on doing another piece that’s more wholly RiKai for the week, too.) "Riku, why do you think Sora would be here?" Shiki asked kindly but uncertainly, as she cocked her head to the side and met his gaze with a concerned one of her own from behind her glasses. Right now, Riku, Neku, and her were at some burger place called "Sunshine", as Shiki and Neku tried to give him the lowdown. When Riku had first come to Shibuya, Shiki had been the first person he’d seen—that he thought was kind of fitting, because he’d always liked her—and while he hadn’t recognized her at first (because she somehow moreso resembled Xion than Kairi now), he’d heard her talking and recognized her voice and seen her lugging around her Mr. Mew. And then… then the things that Riku hadn’t allowed himself to feel at the Keyblade War hit him at full force, and he’d dropped himself at Shiki’s feet and begged her to help him get into the Game to find Sora. Then, Shiki had turned towards her orange-haired friend beside her in an embarrassed and panicked way—as she’d moved her hands this way and that—and had asked him, “What should we do, Neku?” And Neku—moving a strand of hair from out of his eyes—had just muttered, “Sunshine. Now,” and had helped Shiki get Riku to his feet. And as soon as Shiki had touched Riku (perhaps he was touch starved and had needed that comfort there?), Riku was very much himself again. And was that way right now, as they discussed things over food. "A wizard- a wizard that I know said he would be here," Riku answered, as he tried something called "French fries" for the first time in his life; and they were actually so good, he thought he might have died and gone to heaven. If only he had... it would certainly make his job of finding Sora easier that way. "And I guess I just had faith in that, that's all." "Riku," Neku whispered darkly, as he hid his eyes beneath his bangs and seemed to be wanting to say even more than he was. “You know that you have to be dead to play the Reapers' Game, right? —err, for the most part—so are you saying that-" "...Yeah. Sora's dead. And you're probably not going to believe any of this... but we were in a war and we alldied. But K-K... Kairi—Sora's girlfriend, that is—kept him tethered to life and Sora then... somehow rewrote time to bring us all back. But the cost for that was his own life. And he would've died from what he already did there, eventually… but our number one enemy had to put the final nail in the coffin by killing Kairi and making Sora use the power one more time to rescue her. Once he brought her back to our Islands... he vanished." Shiki was bawling her eyes out at this news. Tears streamed down her eyes, as she covered her mouth and made a choking. And Neku just looked like he wanted to hit something—as he muttered something about this “being like that time again”—which Riku couldn't blame him for. Once he'd made sure that Kairi was okay after losing Sora, he had punched every wall that he could find. "That's not- that's not fair!" Shiki exclaimed, standing up and throwing her hands onto the table—apparently she didn't mind making a scene at all anymore if it was for Sora’s sake, and that made Riku like her all the more... but was Riku imagining it, or had Joshua just come into the restaurant for a second and pressed one button on his phone before leaving? —"I mean, life isn't fair. Those of us who have played the Reapers' Game know that most of all. Neku didn't deserve to be murdered twice... Beat’s family didn’t need to insult him, making him then storm out and Rhyme have to come follow him just as a car was careening towards her... that though Beat tried to stop, couldn't do so and it killed them both. Joshua shouldn’t have had the RG treat him so badly, that he didn't want to be a part of it anymore. And my own really big misunderstanding with Eri was dumb, and it led to me going outside without my wits about me and falling and getting a concussion and waking up in the UG. And Sora was a really sweet guy who helped us all and deserved so much better than we got. So what can we do for you guys, Riku? Riku swallowed against a lump in his throat with everything that Shiki had just told him. He’d assumed his friends who had played the Reapers’ Game lives must have been bad, if they’d died so young to be in it to begin with. But he hadn’t thought they were like this. It reminded Riku of before his adventures had started, when he had thought that the worst thing in his own life that could surely hit him was an early death. And while since then, Riku, Sora, Kairi, the King, Naminé, Donald, Goofy, Roxas, Xion, Axel, Terra, Aqua, and Ventus had definitely gone through even weirder horrible things than all of this, it didn’t lessen any of the sympathy that Riku felt for Shiki and her friends here. Instead, he only felt empathy for them. “I have… a strange request,” Riku said to Shiki and Neku, after he’d gone over to Shiki and run a soothing hand down her back and helped her back into her seat—Neku’s eyebrows had risen into his hairline as Riku did this, but he didn’t care. Shiki had seemed like she’d been having a panic attack for Sora’s sake and Riku wanted to help her—“Master Yen Sid was wrong before, but maybe he’ll be right about this one thing: he said that there are alternate versions of Shibuya—maybe of all the worlds—that at least one person here can get to? Do you think you can find this person and get them to take me to one? If Sora isn’t in this Shibuya, maybe he’s in one of the other ones.” Neku and Shiki shared a look here and soon began talking to each other in hushed whispers. Riku tried hard not to eavesdrop on them, since that was rude, and instead took quite a few swigs of the coke that he’d gotten with his burger and fries… but he thought he heard them debating which person they should ask: Joshua or a “Mr. H.” Shiki was leaning towards Joshua, since Riku at least knew him. But Neku said something that Riku couldn’t decipher, and then something about how Josh apparently could interdimensional leap, but couldn’t exactly control it so it would probably be best if they asked Mr. H. “Except that no one knows where Mr. H. is right now, Neku. He became a fallen angel after all he did for us in the First Game. You know that, of course. But he may have earned his title again after he brought Shibuya back from being Erased. So he may be contending with the Angels right now… or he may be in the UG, or somewhere in RG Shibuya. Since we at least know Joshua’s in the UG in the Room of Reckoning, and was even just here and changed our Frequencies so we’re in the UG now, I feel like I should go look for him there and go get his advice. So I’m going to do that. The less time we waste right now—when time if of the essence—the better!” And not allowing another word in edgewise from either of the boys, Shiki took off to do just that. And Riku couldn’t help smirking as she did so, as this attitude of hers reminded him quite a bit of Kairi. As Shiki went, Neku watched Shiki’s retreating form anxiously—and Riku guessed it maybe had something to do with Joshua, since he himself knew how pushy and dangerous feeling that boy seemed to be with all of his power. But Neku seemed to think this even moreso than Riku did, if the way he’d reacted to Joshua’s name being said a few times today was any indication—but finally seeming to decide that she was going to be okay, Neku leaned back into his seat and mumbled, “Fine. If she’s right and the Josh thing works out, that’s great. And I guess it’s better than me going to see him. I’m still pissed off that he didn’t seem to care at all when Coco killed me recently. But I don’t want to talk about him… Riku, you tell me about this Kairi girl and why you like her.” To say Riku was taken aback by this sudden line of questioning would have been a massive understatement. And he was shocked that Neku was bringing it up at all, since he didn’t seem to be the type who liked to pry into other people’s lives or have them look too deeply into his. But then again, Riku saw a psychology book of Neku’s opened up on their table—was he going to school for that now?—so maybe that was the answer to why the boy was now doing something that Riku would have assumed was out of character for him. “I’ll- I’ll tell you!” Riku stammered hastily—and surprisingly loudly—before he could take it back. “But only because I feel like my not talking about Kairi, and lying about some things, is keeping me from being able to find Sora. “Where do I even start? Kairi came to our world from another one—and in that way, she was the first clue to Sora and I that there was something bigger and greater out there—so of course I had to like her for that: this girl who wasn’t just the promise of an adventure, but perhaps the embodiment of it. And over time—as I grew closer and closer to her and her kind heart—my feelings grew, so much so that I really wanted to tell her I liked her when she was fourteen and I was fifteen… but didn’t, because I knew if given the choice, she and Sora would probably be together. “So jealousy grew in my heart, and I started doing bad things. Like, world ending kind of things and I didn’t even care. And because of my actions—literally throwing our Island home away, so we could get onto seeing other worlds already—Kairi lost her heart, and I was desperate to get it back, so I became even more of a monster. I would’ve killed this puppet that had been animated if I could give its heart to Kairi… I sided with an evil fairy who I knew wanted to take over the worlds, just because she promised she’d help me with Kairi. And I even tried to kill Sora as he fought me… “I fell into a trap where I became possessed, because of my stupidity and lust for power and desire to hear how great I was—and oddly enough, it was only then that I started coming back into myself—Kairi awoke because of a self-sacrificing move of Sora’s. And the man who had taken me over, Xehanort, tried to hurt her and I was able to fight him back just long enough that she could run away… and then I started fighting back in general. “Alongside Sora, I did the first really good thing on my journey—I locked myself, because I had to for it to work, behind the Door to Darkness, that would have continued spilling more evil out into the world if it had remained open and I was resigned to my fate there… but then I got a second chance to fight the darkness, and be who I was again, by taking on a place called ‘Castle Oblivion.’ And there, I was ashamed of the things I had done to Sora and Kairi. And I did hate my actions towards Kairi, too, because if I had succeeded and revived her… she would’ve hated the things I did to accomplish it. “So while I desperately wanted to see my friends again and make amends… for about a year, I told myself I had no right to that… even if a guise of Kairi is who told me I could use the light and darkness back-to-back… and even if I did at least try and keep an eye on her for a while, and ran into her again while she cried and begged me to stay—forgiving me for all I’d done and breaking me of my desire to leave ever again. “I know… I know she’d been a little afraid of me when I started to change, right before I destroyed our Islands, and who could blame her? So that massive leap of faith she made for me when she came back into my life meant so much… maybe- maybe that’s why when I passed out in the Castle That Never Was, it was with her name on my lips. “And then when we got home from the Castle That Never Was, we had some months together like we used to, and it was great… I haven’t seen her as much lately, because I’ve been busy on adventures with Sora and had him on my mind some lately—but even then, Kairi isn’t too far behind. My Data-self wanted to make sure to tell Data Sora about hurt that Kairi’s experienced, and when I met someone who had never once had anyone look past their appearance to see who they were, I thought of how lucky I was that Kairi had done that for me. And… my greatest failure is that in this Keyblade War, I let other responsibilities go to my head and I didn’t protect her—instead leaving her with a novice—which then led to everything else. And maybe- maybe I’m thinking if I bring Kairi’s Sora back to her, she might finally give me a chance.”” Neku was quiet for a long moment, as he let all of this sink in—and Riku was glad that he hadn’t interrupted him with too many questions, like “What’s a Data self?”, because some of this stuff was hard to explain, okay?—but finally, after removing earbuds from his ears and giving Riku his full and undivided attention, Neku spoke, “What I think is this, Riku: While I don’t want to tell you to give up on the romance you feel for this girl who seems to make your life worth it—believe me, I get it—and I’m only taking your word on the Sora and Kairi relationship here… Maybe you’re wrong and being too self-conscious and Sora and Kairi really aren’t together, and Kairi likes you. I don’t know… “The way you just talked about Kairi… I think you’re mostly over her, even if don’t realize it. The more you got into your story… the less you had to tell about her, and it even seems you’re really more about Sora now. I’m not saying you still don’t love her as a friend or sister—and I know how hard it is to let go of a safety crutch—but I think if you do… and let yourself believe that you’re not so selfish anymore, as to be looking for Sora just to impress Kairi—or even just to have Sora for yourself--you’ll find him.” And deep down, Neku was right… and Riku knew that he was, and had perhaps even sensed so for a long time. Because just as Neku got done telling him all of this, a man with short brown hair, glasses, a goatee, and a cup of beans in his hand appeared out of the ether and told Riku that while Sora wasn’t in RG or UG Shibuya, he was in High Plane Shibuya and could take him there.

[grayserigala]

— steel

(v.) mentally prepare (oneself) to do or face something difficult

☆▪☆▪☆▪☆▪☆▪☆▪☆

He couldn’t meet their eyes as he staggered back towards the ship, though he knew that they were watching him, it was why the vessel hadn’t taken off. But he still stubbornly kept his eyes trained on the ground, as he pressed his mouth into a thin line. There wasn’t anything he could do to make this better, every time he opened his mouth, he just dug his grave deeper. He clenched his fists and forced them to stay at his sides instead of hugging himself and shying away from the crew that he was slowly approaching.

He couldn’t bring himself to look up and see the disappointment that he knew was there. He couldn’t. Because he was so scared about what else he might see if he looked up, the reason that he had pulled this stunt in the first place.

What had he been thinking trying to jump ship and go with those pirates as soon as they arrived? Why did he think that pirates were a better alternative to idiots? Because they had his heart. They were somewhere in the muscle that he had locked away for years and years, yet somehow they got past the defences and now they were there to stay. He did care for them, he wanted to keep those smiles in tact, but God had he royally fucked that up. A grimace passed over his face as he made the last few steps of his walk of shame back to the team. He had been so scared about them leaving him, and what that would do to him, that he had been looking for an excuse to get out before they had the chance. It’s why he almost betrayed them all those weeks ago when they fled Norma and were caught in the Skull Fairy’s tractor beam. It was why he had done all the awful things to them since he had joined their crew.

He came to such an abrupt stop that he tripped over his own feet and gave a pitiful little stumble. Swallowing thickly as he felt his stomach churning, threatening to rise up, as he found that he couldn’t walk any further. The team was only meters away, the people that his heart had dared to call family, the people who could tear him apart or build him up. He was too scared of the former being realised that he couldn’t let himself even give the latter a chance. He knew they were good people, Shiki was too innocent to turn his back on someone who he thought was a friend, Rebecca had the eyes of someone who knew pain but still had the capacity to understand and love, Happy and Pino and Sister and even Homura! They were all noble people, that was why they were waiting for him at the entrance of the ship, waiting to see if he would come home or leave them forever. But the problem wasn’t that they were good people, it was that he wasn’t.

He was a thief, he betrayed for a living, he fought to survive, to just be able to wake up the next day and say that he was free. Even if it was a lie. And somewhere along the way, his soul had been tainted. He didn’t look up at them, too scared to see love behind the disappointment, but even more so of the hatred that might be where love once was.

He thought he was going to be sick. And it made him want to curl into a ball and cry until he couldn’t feel this devouring guilt anymore. But he steeled himself, and his eyes remained dry, though his throat began to burn.

“Do you think we’ll just accept you with open arms?” Homura’s voice cut cold, as cold as her blades were. He only barely swallowed the grimace. “After what you’ve done.” She sneered. He didn’t reply.

“You hurt us.” Rebecca followed up. “Sister was nearly killed because of you.” Her voice wasn’t hostile, just accusatory and saddened. He had put that tone there. He still didn’t reply.

“Mr. Weisz... do... do we really mean so little to you?” That was Pino.

There was a quiet sigh as footsteps approached him, and his gut screamed at him to run, to not let them touch him, to protect. But he couldn’t move. As Shiki approached, he had never felt so small.

“What are you so afraid of?” Shiki asked, his voice quiet, when it should be yelling and cursing at him. He had betrayed them. Willingly. There should be no forgiveness in his voice. But there was and there was nothing Weisz could do to hide the way he hunched his shoulders.

He opened his mouth but was cut off.

“You’re our friend, right?” The ebony-haired teen cut in. Evidently his arms were crossed as he was trying to understand Weisz, but he couldn’t be sure, as he couldn’t dredge his gaze up from a point to the right of Shiki. “These last few weeks, they can’t be a lie. I don’t know much about you, but I do know about friendship. And even though you tried to hide it, I saw... I saw. You... you...” He sighed, seemingly cutting Weisz some slack as he didn’t force the blond to admit that he cared. “So why?”

He opened his mouth and a weary, pained whine worked its way out of him, and he wanted to hide again. He was being so pathetic in front of these idiots. He had to shove these emotions away before they left him exposed. He couldn’t be exposed. Because that’s when they would leave, and that’s when it would hurt.

“I... I don’t know...” He breathed.

“That’s not good enough.” Shiki rejected. “Try again.”

“I... I really don’t, though...” He frowned.

“You do, though.” Shiki pressed on, he wasn’t backing down, but there was something gentling in him, and Weisz wanted to yell, to make them fear him, so that he wouldn’t have to do this, so that he didn’t have to feel anything gentle or undeserved.

“I... I can’t...” He tried, fruitlessly.

“You need to or you can’t come with us.” Homura warned, as she and the others followed Shiki’s lead. That got a reaction, as he flinched inwardly.

“Why did you leave us to die?” Rebecca asked.

“What are you so afraid of Weisz?” Shiki whispered, drawing out another flinch. No... no don’t say my name... please, please you can’t... you can’t care about me... Despite his trembling frame and quivering lips, he finally looked up at them, as he finally found his answer.

“Y-you.” He breathed. “I’m scared of you.”

The crew came loose as something like pity entered the many pairs of eyes watching him, and it cut him like a burning knife. He didn’t want pity, he didn’t deserve any kindness. Didn’t they understand that he was a traitor? The girls clearly did, but he wasn’t sure about Shiki.

“You’re too good, you’re too kind.” He continued, though he wasn’t sure why he was still speaking, but now he couldn’t stop. “That... that isn’t me... I’m not kind. I don’t put others first. I don’t save people just because it’s right. I don’t do friends. I’m not... I can’t be one of you.”

“Then what has this all been?” Shiki asked, his eyes were beginning to lose there vigour.

“I... I don’t know...” He shook his head uselessly. “Something temporary... I- I think...”

“You think?” Rebecca scoffed.

“And what do you want from us?” Homura cut in front of Rebecca’s words, and Weisz felt his throat go dry.

“Nothing.” He murmured, as his gaze fell away from their faces again. “I don’t want anything.” He was too scared to open up his heart again.

“If that’s the case, is this where we part ways?” Homura asked, her voice taking on a sad quality. “Because you’re either with us or not. We can’t have traitors on our ship.”

God, Weisz didn’t want it to be.

He was in limbo, half way between wanting to stay and half between wanting to run away as he always did.

“Or do you want to try again?” Shiki followed up, receiving sharp gasps from the girls as he extended out a metaphorical olive branch.

“I... I...”

“Don’t say that you don’t know.” Shiki interrupted quietly. “This isn’t about thinking. What do you want, Weisz?”

Trembling, Weisz felt the tears coming, though he still fought them back as much as he could.

“You.” He whispered. 

And somehow that was all that took for the tension in Shiki to drain away, the change in mood was jarring, as that signature smile slipped into place. Or that's what it looked like from Weisz’s periphery. Shiki stepped closer and Weisz startled when gentle fingers took his jaw and guided them upwards so that their gazes met.

“Then let’s go. We got a distress call whilst we were waiting for you. Are you coming?”

This still wasn’t right. There was still so much danger and Weisz was so scared. Why was he walking forwards as Shiki threw an arm around his shoulders? Why were they smiling at him?

But against his better judgement, Weisz sighed in relief as he steeled himself some more as he realised that today wasn’t the day that they parted.

☆▪☆▪☆▪☆▪☆▪☆▪☆

[sobdasha]

katia asked: drabble: Akito and Shigure and “Wanna bet?”

me, constantly: “I’m so done with Shigure’s shit and I hate that my being so done with his shit means I keep talking about him on my tumblr and when I think about AkiGure I think about that bonus comic where Takaya says ‘...are you sure you’re really happy with Shigure, Akki? Sometimes, I feel a bit bad--’“

me, today apparently: “well shit I guess I wrote AkiGure sap??????”

–

"You know," Shigure says, very casually slipping a bookmark into the pages of his novel before he pokes the bear, "I think it's high time you took Shiki on a play date."

With Rio and Chizuru and, therefore, Ayame and Saki. "Hah," says Akito. "I don't do play dates."

Akito is the head of the family. Play dates are not her job. That is a perk, and honestly she ought to be getting more perks.

"The weather's nice lately." Shigure flips a page, settles his bookmark in again. "It's still cool, for now. And Shiki's small, but he's not going to stay small for much longer. You'll regret missing out one day."

He slides that last one in like a needle, and Akito stiffens. She's not Tohru, sure, but no one besides Tohru is Tohru. Akito's not a negligent mother. She spends plenty of time with her son at home, where Ayame and Saki are decidedly less present. They have meals together as a family more often than not. There are bedtime stories, there are weird children's TV shows. There aren't really any family game nights because both of Shiki's parents are terrible losers and even worse winners, but it's a good thing they know this about themselves!

"My job is important," Akito says. "Something only I can do. Your job is to handle the play dates so I don't have to waste my time."

Shigure chuckles. "Oh, really?"

Akito grabs his book and slaps it down on the futon, but she doesn't actually throw it and the bookmark was nestled firmly into the spine so Shigure won't have to hunt down his place again. Nice.

"I love Shiki!" she hisses. "And I spend all my time trying to manage and deal with this clusterfuck of a family because I love Shiki! I'm trying to keep him from getting screwed over the way all the rest of us were!"

"I know that," Shigure chuckles again. Smoothing her hair back out of her face with his now-free hand. "What I meant was, wanna bet?"

At her look, he elaborates, "Would it really be that much of a waste? Do you want to bet? And don't tell me you can't leave the running of the family to someone else for a few days; you have plenty of people here who are more than happy to support you. Let's see, there's Kazuma, and Momiji's getting quite a bit of clout these days, and Yuki isn't entirely useless…"

Shigure feigns a look of surprise, putting a hand to his mouth in that way that always makes Akito want to punch him. She refrains, though. "Oh! And there's also your husband who loves you and loves yanking strings and seeing that this whole damn family gets what's coming to it, namely, being dragged kicking and screaming into a change for the better! And what do you know, he's actually your assistant and knows how to do all of these important paperwork things! Maybe you should let him assist!"

He's not exactly wrong. Akito hates that, so she just crosses her arms and scowls at the blankets.

"I still think we should make it a bet, just to make it interesting," Shigure says. He picks up his book and lays it aside, then shifts under the covers invitingly. "And so we know whether or not you're right. Let's switch jobs for a few days, and each day we'll exchange the most valuable thing we gained. Sound fair?"

It sounds like a trap. It sounds like a very reasonable trap. Shigure's going to come out of this looking like a wise, mature adult, and Akito's going to come out of this looking like a stupid spoiled child, and it's a trap.

But he looks right into her eyes, and smiles at her, and Akito's always been so gullible so she just snuggles up next to him anyway.

–

Apparently, the Mosca family watches cooking competition shows together.

Akito, sitting on the very edge of the park bench, as far as possible from Saki and Ayame without provoking them to hunt her down, misses the whole explanation about today's cooking challenge. She misses the assembly of ingredients, the drama of the kitchen, the flurry of Rio and Chizuru and Shiki putting together their dishes. She misses the explanation Rio gives of what he's concocted and why it's best and deserves to win.

What Akito is unable to miss, unfortunately, is the portion of muddy sand and small pebbles and bits of stick and leaf and grass and what is that even that Rio hands "Judge Auntie Aa-chan" to appraise.

Further down the bench, Rio's mother and Ayame are gushing in praise of the dish's plating, its piquant aroma, the dedication of the chef, the inclusion of actual vegetable matter, and overflowing with gratitude to be able to take part in this rare delicacy.

Akito, mother of the year, says automatically as Rio finagles the plastic dish into her hands: "This looks disgusting."

Rio leans up to her, deadly serious, and whispers near her face, "It is."

Akito is never going to understand children in her entire life.

–

"Here," Akito says, shoving the cheap plastic dish at Shigure. Rio let her borrow it on the condition she'd wash it and bring it back tomorrow. She also got him to explain exactly what exotic foreign dish he'd made, although she didn't really understand and she definitely mangles it now as she tells Shigure just what a fricken priceless treat he's in for. "So I saved you some."

"This certainly doesn't look like something you could get at any old restaurant. A very exclusive dish. Please pass my compliments on to the chef," Shigure says. He reaches down and ruffles Shiki's hair, precisely because Shiki doesn't like that and wrinkles up his nose and squints at his father whenever it happens. "What about you, kiddo? What'd you make?"

"Sand," says Shiki. "It was yucky."

"Well," Shigure says. "I suppose this one-of-a-kind treat is your half of the bet, am I right? Then it's time for me to give you what I earned today."

Akito's feeling pretty confident about this, despite her misgivings. She went on the play date, watched her son dig around in the park, subjected herself to Ayame and Saki's attentions, and all she's got to show for it is a handful of nasty organic things in a cheap toy bowl. Shigure's absolutely dealt with a lot more valuable things today.

And then Shigure leans in and kisses Akito's cheek.

–

Akito forgets to slide down to the end of the park bench, as absorbed as she is in googling on her phone "how to tell if your husband is cheating on you with the maids." And, upon further thought, "how to tell if your husband isn't really cheating on you but the maids are flirting with him because you married one hot bastard."

"Oh my, Aa-chan!" Ayame says, leaning up against her shoulder and reading her phone screen, although says is a misleading verb because Ayame never simply says anything, he always declaims it in a very loud and carrying voice. "What's this, what's this? What can this be?"

"Your wife asked me to google it for her," Akito says without looking up or missing a beat, and Ayame laughs.

"I admire your brilliant and quick sense of humor! I'm sure you and Gure-san must always have such wonderful battles of wit! But," he adds, gently pushing her hands down to her lap, "I think you needn't fear on that front. I know my dear Gure-san like I know my own heart, and he only has eyes for you."

Akito makes a noise that is part not-actually-agreeing with Ayame, and part trying to appease him to make him go away, and part objecting to the fact that the edges of her personal space bubble are now apparently inside Ayame's body.

It's not exactly that Akito doesn't trust her husband. It's more that Shigure is an asshole, and Akito knows this because she's also an asshole, and she doesn't trust anyone and that includes herself. And it takes much less brain engagement to skim through the trash her google search is giving her than to actually consider who gave Shigure the kiss he "won."

She's not fretting about who her husband might be doing what with, she's...she's marveling at the depths of the stupidity of the internet.

"Auntie Aa-chan?" Chizuru says. Akito raises her head and looks at him. Turns off her phone screen when he pointedly looks down at it until she gives him her complete attention.

Chizuru shoves a fist at her. "This is a dinosaur fossil," he announces, opening his hand to show the small rock cupped in this palm. As far as Akito can tell, it's just your usual playground rock, a bit ridged but still boring.

Shigure would have enthused over it, eagerly discussed with Chizuru what type of dinosaur it might belong to, praised Chizuru for his skill and sharp eye. Put his novelist talent and wild imagination to good work.

"Uh-huh," Akito says.

Chizuru pushes the rock at her again. "It should go in a museum. But you can have it. For when I'm a famous--" there's a long string of syllables here that Akito can neither parse nor reproduce, but from the context she later realizes it's paleontologist "--and I dig up a lot of dinosaurs and I'm rich and I'm even more famous than my dad."

Ayame chuckles and says that he can't wait for that day, and he looks forward to seeing his son's picture all over TV, and Akito says: "Okay. Er. Thanks."

–

"This is for Shiki's college fund, apparently," Akito says, plopping the rock into Shigure's hand.

"That's one worry solved, then." Shigure crouches down and offers the rock up to Shiki. "Kiddo, any thoughts on where we should display our prize fossil?"

Shiki looks at it, hard, for a long moment, and then quietly takes the rock from his dad and wanders off, trying the rock out on various shelves.

Akito crosses her arms and glowers at the fridge. "Well?" she says. "That was my half of the bet. What valuable thing did you get today?"

"Weeeeeell," Shigure says, "I would have presented you with quite a small fortune in checks...but, I figured you'd rather I just do the bank run to deposit them myself and spare you the trip. So, you'll just have to content yourself with this."

And once again, he leans in and kisses Akito's cheek.

–

This park inconsiderately doesn't have any good weeds.

So Akito's having to make do with pinching a blade of grass between her nails and ripping it into tiny pieces, alternating between my husband is a stupid perv and my husband is not.

She loses her place when Saki lays a hand on her shoulder and says, "Aa-chan, your waves are very distressed today."

That is bullshit. The wave report is bullshit. Akito's waves are not distressed. Akito is a grown-ass woman, sitting hunched on a park bench, intently ripping the shit out of an innocent blade of grass while mumbling to herself.

Obviously she's not fine.

"It pains me to see you like this," Saki says, pressing a hand to her own chest. "And you're scaring the children."

Sure enough, when Akito looks up, there's Shiki across the playground watching her and biting his lip. She gives him a smile, although she's not sure how well it works. She's not good at the kind of stupid displays Shigure's always effortlessly spouting off. And Shiki might get his awkwardness all from Akito, but he's probably too young yet to get how alike they both are.

Saki says, "Do you know what I like to do to cheer myself up when I feel like this?"

–

Akito shoves the handful of receipts at Shigure, who laughs ruefully. "Oh, dear...the crepe stand opened up again, did they? And of course as head of the family it was your treat. Let me guess...these ones are all Saki's--I'll never figure out where that woman puts it all away--and these are Ayame's, and then there's one for each of the boys, and a second one for each of the boys after they all managed to drop theirs somehow…"

Apparently this is some sort of regular occurrence. Another reason Akito doesn't do play dates. This sort of crap is best left to Shigure.

"I hope yours tasted good, at least?" he says.

Not wondering who's been kissing her husband would have tasted better. Akito hadn't really felt like bothering with her own, so she'd shared with Shiki, and that was actually how they'd ended up dropping the first one. But it had been kind of nice, even with Ayame and Saki there chattering away incessantly in the background.

Akito shrugs.

Waits.

"Well, it is the last day of our bet," Shigure says at last. "I suppose I'd better pay up, so we can decide the winner of whose job is more valuable."

Akito shrugs again, and Shigure leans in, once more, to press that damn kiss on her cheek.

"You know, I really wouldn't call your efforts a waste of time," Shigure breezes on immediately. "You got treated to a gourmet meal the likes of which you'll never taste again, you've gained another museum-quality antiquity to add to our estate, and you shared good food under good sunshine with good friends--"

Akito, very reasonably and not-at-all jealously, grabs Shigure's collar and yanks at him as she demands over his stupid rambling, "Who gave you those kisses?"

Shigure blinks, and stares at her for a long moment. And then his face contorts with the effort of not smiling and laughing at her, which he fails to manage, and then he's snickering and taking her hands in his.

"Oh, you precious child," he chuckles. "Think, why don't you. Those were the kisses you gave me each morning before I went to start my duties."

Oh.

Oh.

Akito wriggles one of her fists out from under Shigure's hand so she can thump his chest with it.

"You cheated!" she hisses. "That doesn't count, you cheated! You made this like, like a stupid plot in one of your novels, just to teach me some stupid sappy lesson, and you cheated!"

Shigure tilts his head in a modest little nod, no shame at all. "Of course I cheated. Obviously I cheated. Honestly, I thought you'd catch me out on it. But I suppose in this regard I was, for once, wrong."

Ohh, that smug bastard. Akito hates him. Akito hates him so much. So much so that she burns with hate and definitely not anything else when he looks right into her eyes and smirks at her.

"I think we both win," he murmurs. "I think both of our jobs are very worthwhile, and together we make a very valuable family. And I treasure that. What about you?"

Akito doesn't give him an answer. She just tugs him down and kisses him on his stupid smug cheating bastard romance crap mouth.

(It was a trap all along. But she lets his arms close around her anyway.)

[corvid-knight]

Demon Eyes - chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/31885545

The "something" that Jake was working on turns out to be a full-out tarot spread, you find as you follow Dirk into the kitchen, Karkat and John a few steps behind. Most of the kitchen table is covered in carefully-laid-out cards, an arrangement that's more complicated than any of the ones you know. Then again, the subset of tarot spreads that you know only includes one or two; Bro stopped trying to get you to learn when he figured out that your predictions lacked the weird clarity that Jake's have always had.

When you come in, Jake's perched on a stool that's too high for the table, a thoughtful look on his face as he examines the complicated patterns he's created. He only looks up when Dirk puts a hand on his shoulder, glancing between Karkat and you for a second before a grin spreads across his face.

"There we are." He slides off the stool, tapping the card at the center before stepping over to give you a quick, much-less-stressful half-hug. "You've certainly gone through the wringer, haven't you Davey? You and your demon both."

"He's not exactly my demon." Jake's still half a head shorter than you, you realize as he steps away to take one more look at his tarot spread. Nice—you're not totally surrounded by guys who're taller than you. "His name's Karkat, by the way. I'm shit at intros, sorry."

"You're absolutely fine, don't worry!" He aims that bright smile at Karkat, who looks completely disconcerted at the hand that Jake holds out. "Jake English, at your service."

You seriously wonder if Karkat's going to accept the handshake or if you're going to end up privately prompting him. After a second, though, the demon grins (no sharp teeth, thankfully) and shakes Jake's hand, letting go as quickly as he can while still being polite. "I really fucking hope you don't say that to just any demon you work with."

"Oh gods no, I'm not as much of an idiot as this one—" a shove at Dirk's shoulder than pushes him a step closer to John and makes you want to tense up at the prospect of upcoming violence— "would have you believe. That'd be John."

"I'll kick your ass, English," John immediately offers. He slips behind Dirk as he says it, but the grin on his face reminds you that the probability of actual fighting here and now is really fucking low. "C'mon, come and get me—"

"Don't you dare start a fight in the kitchen." Okay, that voice is new. It's a lot like Dirk's (and a little like Bro's) but it's from behind you, where there shouldn't fucking be anyone—

You don't register your own movements until Karkat steps up next to you and slides a hand under your arm, pulling you out of the defensive crouch you've already fallen into. Shit, you're running your hands across your waistband, too, looking for a fucking weapon. One that's not there, thank god.

You're okay, Dave. Anyone who'd hurt you goes through me, and that's a lot fucking harder than it looks.

Without his steady voice in your mind, you probably wouldn't be able to just straighten up again, take a deep breath, and glance over at Dirk like you do.

Dirk just looks irritated and resigned. "Hal," he says with a calm that's probably deceptive, "get off the fucking fridge."

"Hmm...no."

You look up.

The guy perched on top of the refrigerator looks kind of like Dirk. The facial structure is the same, but this guy's as pale as you are, other than red tracery that looks like tattooed circuit lines running from his temples down the sides of his face. His hair's white instead of warm gold, shorter and spiky, exactly how Dirk wore his a couple years ago, and his eyes are the same red you're used to seeing in the mirror.

Karkat tilts his head to one side, considering the guy on the fridge. "Okay, I'll bite. What the fuck are you?"

"Hal Strider." He shifts slightly, still grinning down at you. You don't think you've ever seen someone look so pleased with themself in your life. "I'd offer to trade information, but I already know that you're Karkat and you're a demon, and the one that has a certain family resemblance to Dirk and I would be Dave, right?"

You realize that that was kind of directed at you, and nod. "Uh...dude, I have no fucking clue who you are, okay?"

"It'd be amazing if you did." Hal shrugs and shifts his weight, just jumping off the top of the fridge and landing on his feet with all the weightless grace of a cat. Standing, he somehow manages to look more and less like Dirk at the same time. "I didn't exist last time you were around."

"Still don't really understand here." You have to look over at Dirk for help. Before he can do more than open his mouth, Karkat reaches out to poke Hal's shoulder experimentally, which Hal allows with the same faint smile that seems to be his resting expression.

"It's a golem," he announces.

"He's a shikigami," Dirk corrects with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead. "Sort of."

You have no fucking clue what a shiki-whatever is. Karkat, however, evidently does, because he immediately points out, "Shikigami don't have self-awareness or willpower, and this thing obviously does, so..."

"Pronouns would be nice instead of just 'this thing.' I'll answer to any of them, although I rather like the sound of 'he' and 'they.'" Hal smiles sweetly at Karkat, tapping one finger against the circuit-marks along the sides of his face. "Also, you're absolutely right; shikigami don't have free will. Not when they're created from inert material and a driving force, anyway. However. If you add a harddrive containing a sentient AI—that would be me—"

The look of confused horror spreading across Karkat's face is actually a little comical. "You can't fucking do that."

Dirk groans and shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Dude, you have no idea how much I wish that was an accurate statement sometimes."

"Anyway," Hal continues, just slightly louder, "if you add a sentient AI to the mix, as per said AI's instructions—"

"We all know you came up with forty percent of the plan, give it a rest already." Dirk's grumble and eye-roll suggest that they've been over this territory already.

"Dave doesn't know, so shut the hell up. You add the AI, as per said AI's instructions so you don't fuck it up like the incompetent meatbag you are, and a few steps later you have me." Hal spreads his hands in a gesture you recognize as an echo of one of Dirk's, smiling wider. "One superbeing."

"One freak of nature," Dirk corrects.

Jake laughs and shoves very gently at your cousin, wrapping an arm around him. "You love him."

"You might love him. I certainly don't."

"He doesn't exactly have to love me if he doesn't want to." Hal shrugs, eyes fixed on you with an unblinking intensity that's more than a little disconcerting. "Brothers fight, don't they? Unless it gets to be a little more than scuffling, you don't need to worry about us, English. And it won't get that far, now will it?"

"Not unless you do something especially asinine."

"Oh, I don't intend to." He's speaking to Dirk, isn't he? So why the fuck does he have to look at you like that?

Stop. I'm being fucking paranoid.

Except you look away from Hal and Dirk's watching you too. Jake's more focused on Dirk, but his eyes slide towards you when you glance at him, and away again as soon as he meets your eyes. Doesn't want to stare at me. Fuck. John's talking to Karkat, but there's a pair of excited blue eyes fixed on you too, flicking back to the demon every few seconds—of course John wouldn't care about staring, he was always honest about shit even when we were kids—so upon that further examination, everyone's looking at you, and that's...

That's not how shit's supposed to be. This isn't supposed to happen to me, you think, and hate the panicked edge the thought has.

Dirk's saying something and you have zero ability to focus enough to listen to it. Which is just as fucking wrong as you being the center of attention, you're supposed to fucking listen to him, fucking listen to Bro—

"Dave." And, maybe because he can tell you're a little past verbal responses, Karkat switches to words that go straight into your head, private and silent and weirdly safe. Dave, you know you're safe right now, right? That fucker's not here. It's Dirk, not your Bro.

Fuck. Yeah. You know that. Can't fucking think, man. And you make a deliberate effort to let him feel what you're overwhelmed by—like you're the only one worth looking at in a crowd, because you fucked up—

Karkat growls, loud and startled and deep, and Jake lets go of Dirk, and now everybody—other than Hal, who's still watching you thoughtfully—is staring at the demon. Which is just as fucking bad because they're hunters and you know what hunters do—

"Jesus fuck," Karkat growls, shaking his head. "John, right? And Jake? You both want to ask me shit, right?" When he gets a definite nod from the former and a slightly less emphatic one from the latter, he continues, "Open season on questions, as in I'll answer anything you come up with for the next—" Dave, how long?

Fifteen minutes. It's a number you pull out of nowhere, but it feels right, and Karkat slots it into his sentence without any discernable pause.

"—fifteen minutes, so long as you ask it in a different fucking room." He crosses his arms and scowls at John. "Fair enough?"

John's expression suggests that the deal is more than fair, but he just nods, grabbing Jake's wrist and all but dragging him into the other room after Karkat. The door shuts, and you're left with just Dirk and Hal.

Where the fuck is Hal?

"Calm down." Dirk sighs when he sees you glancing around, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and sitting down. "He's on the fucking fridge again."

"Oh." The shikigami grins at you when you look up at him. When did he even get back up there? "Is it even worth it to ask you why?"

"It's an excellent vantage point." Hal shrugs.

"Try, 'I'm an asshole,'" Dirk suggests.

"Well, I can't argue with that, but we all know who I'm modeled on, don't we?"

"You guys are always like this, aren't you." You don't make it a question, and you don't look at either of them to see if they nod. If they're still staring at you, you don't fucking want to know. Instead, you sit on Jake's stool—which feels wrong; it's too tall and too isolated, too obvious—but you made the choice to sit on it and now you're stuck with that choice—and look over his tarot spread, mentally naming the cards you recognize as a way of calming down a little.

This spread is a mess, really. He's using the major arcana and (you think) the four royalty cards from each suit, but you don't see numbered cards from anysuit. Despite that, you're pretty sure there's more than thirty cards on the table, and you see the Tower at least twice. Which means more than one deck.

What the hell.

Of the layout itself, you can tell that it's centered on three cards: Knight of Swords and Knight of Cups side by side, with the Lovers card laid over and half-obscuring both of them. Beyond that, you don't know enough about the order or layout to read, but those three cards make a hell of a lot of sense to you.

"Jake's been drawing those two when he tries to read for you, the past few days." Dirk leans over to tap first Cups, then Swords. "You, and Karkat."

That feels backwards, but going by the meanings of the cards it really isn't. "So he's been reading for me."

"I asked him to, yes." When you glance up at him you meet honey-orange eyes that're too fucking familiar for you to not wince. "Why, do you count that as spying?"

"Depends on what you learned from it." You don't count it as spying, not really, but you need to know what Dirk already knows so you don't reveal more than you have to.

What the hell am I even thinking? I don't have to hide shit, there's no consequences if he finds out things Bro didn't want known... Well, other than your discomfort, maybe. Not that that matters.

Dirk sits back, watching you. "Jake didn't finish telling me about this one, obviously. But when he went over your past he got abuse, willpower put to bad use, increasing domination—"

You know which cards he's talking about. Out of the corner of your eye, you can almost see them light up out of the spread on the table. "Strength and the Magician, both reversed. The Emperor." It makes you shiver. You know exactly what Jake read as the sum your past—or, more accurately, who. "Bro."

"I didn't know you knew the meanings so well."

"Yeah. Can't get an accurate read on anything, but I know the cards."

"Ah. The Moon came up in most of the spreads—"

"Deception." There's other meanings, but that's the one you fix on. It's hard to keep your hands from folding into fists again. "He was a fucking liar, so that's accurate."

Dirk tilts his head and you think of Karkat. Stupid. "You're angry at him."

More than you're ever going to know. "He's dead. So no, I'm not."

"...fair enough, I guess. I might be pissed enough for both of us."

He keeps his tone calm, and you still want to flinch at the words. You don't do that, but you do look down at the cards instead of at Dirk. "Not really a reason for that."

"Bullshit there isn't." The twist of emphasis he puts in that is savage enough that you look up at him, hoping he doesn't see the unpleasant jolt of fear he just sent through you. There's no anger on his face, at least. "I knew him. I hunted with him—not alone, D never let Bro take me out unless he was coming along, thank god—but I knew how he was, we all did."

"Yeah, no. You didn't." He was worse, trust me. The cards are interesting, maybe if you look at the layout just a little longer you can figure out how it works, and if you look at it you don't have to look at Dirk...

"Dave," he says quietly, and when you still don't look up at him he keeps talking. "You know why we didn't cut him off after he killed that girl?"

"She was a fucking were. She killed—"

"It wasn't about her. Him killing her was fucked up, both how he did it and that he did it at all—she was a kid, she killed a couple fucking horses in her first change and we should've paid for the damages and gotten her settled with a pack, not let him get his hands on her and torture her to death."

Shit. "He told me she killed someone. Not some fucking horses..."

"Lying bastard."

"Yeah." The fact that you just believed him is worse.

"You know why we didn't cut him off?"

"No."

"D wanted you back." When you look up in surprise, Dirk nods. "Yeah. The whole reason he never ran Bro down and made him answer for that shit was because they made a deal—that bastard got to leave, go wherever the fuck he wanted, so long as he left you with us. Except when I finally got ahold of him after that last fight, he said you took the money he'd had on hand and took off. He said he didn't know where you went."

"I—" You almost did that, but not until a full year after when Dirk's talking about. The first time you woke up with Bro in bed with you, with your head fuzzy from the alcohol he'd bullied you into drinking the night before and your shoulder aching where his teeth had drawn blood, feeling more disgusting than you ever had in your life, you almost left him. Almost. But in the end? "I'd never. I couldn't."

"Yeah. I was an idiot to believe him, I know. I'm sorry, Dave—"

"Don't!" Fuck. That was louder than you should've let it be, and you can sense rather than see Hal shift slightly on top of the fridge—getting ready to attack you if he has to, to protect Dirk? You don't know. "Don't apologize for that shit, don't fucking do it, it doesn't help, it makes things worse—"

You look at him again and you can't fucking see him clearly—no, tears, not that, I can't fucking cry, I can't, I—

Karkat, please—

Something shifts. Something twists. Something in the center of your mind changes, and it's been changing for a while, hasn't it? Since the first time you felt the tingle of wards as you passed through them, before everything started. But this time you feel it adjust itself to what you need, just a little more, and it's terrifying to feel that but it's so, so relieving, because you feel him. You feel Karkat, and when you blink your eyes are clear again.

Unfortunately, it's John that you're looking at. Not Dirk. Holy shit, you try to say, but instead of that you feel your mouth shape the words, "Dave, what—" and it's his deeper voice that you feel in your throat.

No. His throat.

Too much, you think, or maybe he thinks it, but it's true either way. Too fucking much, go back, make it stop—

You're not sure whether it's you or Karkat who triggers the flip back. It doesn't really matter. You blink again and you're staring at the kitchen tile, which is a hell of a lot closer than before because you're on your hands and knees on the floor. The stool's overturned, knocked halfway across the room, and Dirk's kneeling next to you with one hand on your shoulder.

"Dave?" he asks, then, more hesitantly, "...Karkat?"

"Right the first time." Sitting up is hard, but you instinctively push Dirk away when he tries to support you. "Don't—don't touch me. For a sec. I need—" Karkat.

"Your eyes—"

"What?" Because you need Dirk to see that you're you, your eyes aren't the changing red of the demon's, you force yourself to look at him. Just for a second. Long enough to catalogue the confused concern on his face. Then you just close your eyes, cut off sensory input from that quarter.

"Did he possess you?"

"No! I—" I'm so fucked. Hunters don't do this shit. I'm a hunter, I can't do—whatever that was. "I. I possessed him? Dirk, I don't know—"

You bite down on your lip, hard enough to taste blood, before that last word can turn into the panicked wail it really wants to be.

"Dave, it's okay—" Dirk begins, and abruptly stops as the door slams open again. "Karkat, what the hell—"

"Don't you fucking block me from him," Karkat snarls, and you think you cringe.

Please don't hurt him, don't fucking hurt him, please—

"No one's getting hurt, Dave. I swear to you." Dirk's hand leaves your shoulder, and Karkat's replace it, one resting on each shoulder and giving you a comforting sensation of presence, for a moment, before he moves them up to press against your temples. "Open your eyes."

"No—"

"Just for a second, okay? You just did something that should be really fucking difficult for a human, I need to make sure you're okay. Just a second and then you can do whatever you want." Karkat's voice is gentle and coaxing again, nothing like how he snarled at Dirk a moment ago. It's all right, Dave, I swear. Just look at me.

I'll cry, you warn him.

"Yeah. I know. That's okay."

You open your eyes. Thankfully—and somewhat surprisingly—your vision's only a little blurry; you can see Karkat's face fine. Dirk's sitting just being him, arms crossed and expression purposefully blank and unreadable.

"I'm okay," you say to both of them. That's not even kind of true.

"Shush." Karkat's thumb strokes across your cheek. It's a stupidly reassuring sensation. "You can close your eyes if you need to now. Nothing's fucked up structurally..."

You shut your eyes immediately when he says that, trying not to shake as you start thinking about how this looks. I did something. Something magic, the kind hunters don't use. With a demon. I'm so fucking screwed, this isn't—

"Dave. Dave, shush. Come here." His hands leave your face and you nearly panic enough to open your eyes. Then he slips an arm around your shoulders, pulls gently enough that you could definitely get away if you wanted.

Instead, you lean into him. We're fucked.

"We're not fucked. Dirk, tell him."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be telling him," Dirk protests.

There's a very soft noise that you can't quite identity from behind you, and someone else's hand brushes against your hair. "Want me to do the talking, brother dearest?" Hal asks calmly. "I actually have some kind of handle on the situation here, which you don't."

"If you upset him more I'm kicking your ass."

"Fair enough. Dave?"

Words. Gotta have words. "Yeah."

"The talented are welcome here. Do you understand that? I can't tell what sort you are, but I can see the empath link between you and Karkat, and I'm assuming there's more—"

"No."

"Ah. There might be later, or maybe not. But that's an asset, do you understand?"

"It's not a fucking hunter thing—"

"Dirk's something between an artificer and a technomancer. Jake's a diviner, possibly one of the best alive. Rose—you remember Rose, don't you?—she's a witch, engaged to a vampire." Hal's hand rests against your shoulder again and just as quickly withdraws. "And you already heard what I am."

"We're not like him." This from Dirk again; when you cautiously open your eyes, he's sitting back on his heels in front of you. "Maybe he told you hunters were fucking bigots, but that's not fucking true."

"...yeah." Karkat?

"Yes?"

Tell 'em I believe them. Can't talk. Mostly because you really are crying now.

"You don't have to, don't worry."

He starts relaying not what you thought at him, but what you mean, and you relax against him, close your eyes again, and really start to calm down.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTES: This is the last of the main oneshots! Minako and Usagi's story turned out very slightly longer than the others on accident, but it was purely a factor of not being able to wrap up the storyline it created as quickly. (Also, because the other senshi were all packed into the beginning bit, which made it a little longer haha). Definitely had nothing to do with my love of this or that ship more or less than any others.

What did you think? There's still my little bonus chapter to go, but I hope you all dug the storylines! Maybe someday in the future I'll try something like this again with a different fandom! The sky's the limit!

Act 5: Minako: What's In A Codename?

"You know, you're an even bigger pig than I am."

Minako Aino stuck her tongue out over her shoulder at Usagi. Luckily, she was comfortable enough with her new friends to be able to take that slight criticism, even if it was still a bit wounding. "Just because I invited you up here, and you and Ami and Rei decided that we 'needed' to clean my room, doesn't mean you get to judge me. Especially you!"

The other blonde pouted, flipping through the stack of shojo magazines. "Why 'especially me'?"

"Because you're a pointless waste of space," Rei said immediately with a long sigh. She and Ami were currently cramming all of her dirty clothes into a basket, and didn't look at all like they minded — but Rei certainly minded that Usagi wasn't doing her part. "Can you just hurry up and actually do something? I thought you wanted to help Minako."

"I do! I just… wanted to make sure these magazines were going to be put away in order!" As if this somehow proved her point, she poked the page she was open to. "Look! Yeah, this one goes after the other one!" Then she gathered up the manga and took them over toward Mina's shelf.

"Hopeless," she sighed, though she seemed mostly resigned.

"C'mon, I didn't say all that," Minako laughed as she stripped her bed of sheets so she could grab the shiki futon from on top of her Western platform bed and take it to the balcony and let it air out. "Just that you're a slob, too, so it's like the pot calling the kettle a pot."

Ami flinched slightly as she bundled the sheets in with the clothes. "You mean 'the pot calling the kettle 'black',' right?"

"Oh, is that how it went?"

"Sorry," Usagi groaned, actually straightening up the shelves now. Not that there was much to do, but she had left quite a few books lying around, and she felt bad that her fellow blonde had to work on that for her. "You're right, I'm not any better than this. But it's not easy being almost a high school student and a superhero!"

Having just put the basket in the hall, Rei came back over and slung an arm around Usagi's shoulders. "Like you actually do any of those things that well. Seriously, considering how much you slack off, you should have plenty of time left over to help a friend clean. OR clean your own room."

The criticism got Usagi puffing out her cheeks in annoyance. Rei and Ami laughed, and so did Minako, though she felt a little guilty about it. After all, she didn't know any of them all that well yet. At times, she felt like the odd woman out on the Senshi, even though that was silly when none of them had really had terribly long to establish friendships.

"Oh wow!" came a voice from deep in her closet. After a moment, Makoto appeared with a wallscroll of a popular band, index finger tapping on one of the posing men. "This guy really looks like my old boyfriend! I wonder if it's him? Do you remember their names?"

Laughing nervously, Minako shrugged and said, "It was a promotional gift, I barely know a few of their songs. Do… you want that poster?"

The taller girl's green eyes lit up like emeralds in the sun. "Really? You mean it?"

"Sure! Take it, go nuts!" As Makoto squealed and jumped up and down, Ami having to duck out of the way of her elbow, Minako giggled and took the mattress outside.

This really was so much better. Ever since she got back from England, she had felt like she had no life. School was fine, and so was her continual work around town under her alter ego to roll back the crimes of the citizenry, but that could all be classified as her 'professional' life. She didn't have any friends. After all, almost none of her old friends from elementary school were going to her junior high, and the few that were no longer really had much in common with the weird, Western-looking blonde. She got called hafu a lot, because she was Japanese but looked so American, and spoke English so well. In all honesty, it was a little depressing not having a core group of pals to hang around with — play video games, watch movies, go to the summer Obon festival and watch the fireworks.

But becoming a Sailor Senshi changed all that. Now at last, she could finally go back to a normal girl's level of companionship and bonding. Even if it was because she was fighting the forces of evil alongside other young women with magic running through their veins.

After hanging her futon on the balcony, she came back in to hear the sounds of squabbling. Again. Rolling her eyes and heaving a weary sigh, she entered her room and braced for impact.

"You did too try to kill her plants and you know it!"

Rei was already in full rage mode, fists clenched at her sides. "I never claimed to have any idea how to take care of houseplants! We all agreed to do our best, and Ami kept them from dying in the end!"

"But you act like I have no responsibility, and then you do stuff like that!" Usagi shot right back at her. "That's what I'm saying isn't fair!"

"Look. I never said you were the worst person in the world, and I was perfect. Just that you're way less responsible than any of the rest of us!"

"Lay off her!" Makoto put in, stepping between the two jousting junior high girls with her taller, more imposing frame. "Usa-chan is fine the way she is, even if you don't think so, Rei! So just shove it!"

Ami was definitely already distressed, and put a soothing hand on Rei's arm. "Please, can't we get along? This in-fighting never solves anything — no one here is a bad person, no one here is 'lazy'! Alright?"

"Sorry, Ami, but Usagi is definitely lazy. I'm not going to lie just to make her feel better!"

"Right!" Usagi burst out at Rei, eyes tearing up. "Because being nice to somebody just doesn't work for Rei Hino! Ohhhh no, that would involve caring about anybody but herself!"

"Of course I care! I care about all of you! And if I didn't care, didn't want you to be your best, I wouldn't bother to tell you what a selfish little brat you can b-"

"HEY!"

Everyone turned to look at Minako. When she realised she had their attention, she smiled as sweetly as she could. "I hate to be a bother, but can you keep it down before my mom gets in one of her moods about us being too rowdy? Like, just… bicker quieter."

Usagi immediately dipped her head very low, looking like she wanted to expire on the spot. "Sorry! Gosh, I wasn't even thinking about that…"

"Of course not," Rei sniped immediately.

"Neither were you, genius," Makoto grunted. That nearly got them all going again, but Ami dragged Rei to the other side of the room to begin working on the cluttered school desk. Turning to Makoto and Minako, their bun-headed leader clapped her hands together and bowed reverently.

"You two saved my life. I am eternally grateful."

"Oh, shush," Makoto snorted, waving a hand back and forth. Her cheeks had started to pinken slightly from being thanked so earnestly, which was probably why she tried to dismiss the sentiment. "Maybe you're a little irresponsible, but I mean, so is everybody in their own way. Rei gets a bug up her butt over nothing sometimes."

"I can hear you!" Rei hissed in a stage whisper. That time, Ami literally turned her head all the way around with her hand to point back at their task.

Meanwhile, Minako was sighing and turning back to her bedframe to fish things out from underneath it. "This is tough for me, because I actually like all of you guys. So when you fight, I don't feel… like I can make the right call, since I'm the new girl."

"But you're not!" Makoto assured her. "Like, you've been doing it the longest; it's us who are the newbies."

"I'm sorry, Mina-chan," Usagi was saying again. "Seriously, sometimes I let Rei get under my skin and forget to pay attention to the rest of you. Must be so annoying."

That shot straight to her heart, and she put a hand on Usagi's shoulder. "Not annoying. Just… you get emotional sometimes. Totally normal, since we're all fresh out of puberty and hormonal sometimes." Then over her shoulder, she shot, "Same goes for other parties involved."

"Alright, alright," Rei sighed, coming back to the middle of the room with a few books in her hands that were destined for the shelf. "Usagi, I'm sorry I lost my temper. Again."

"And I'm sorry I'm lazy and dumb," she countered. Minako was opening her mouth, but she cut her off, "No, I am! Can't help it sometimes, but I'm gonna try to be better. Okay?"

The two shook hands, and the feud ended.

"Thank Serenity," Artemis sighed as he and Luna padded in, white and purple fur standing out in stark contrast to each other. "You do know cats have sensitive ears, don't you? All that yakking could make a guy deaf!"

Makoto put her hand on her hips and looked down at them with a smirk. "And where were you two, anyway? Off nuzzling each other?"

Little known fact: cats from the Moon Kingdom can blush.

                                                          ~ o ~

A few days after that, Minako was out with Makoto and Rei, shopping their little hearts out. Mostly, Rei wanted some help finding 'cuter' clothing; she owned a few nice things, but she spent so much time in her miko apparel that she felt like she had lost touch with the world of fashion. Makoto loved to dress the two of them up like dolls, since a lot of the things she wanted to buy for herself didn't come in her size — or they did, but the skirts rode up too high, or the blouses pulled in weird ways. And shoes were something of a nightmare. That really made Minako sad, so she resolved to try to get some clothes sent in from London that might fit her new teammate.

"Thanks for the help today," Rei told them as they made their way back on the bus, all smiles. "I finally feel like a girl again. And these jeans are so rad!"

"I'm just amazed I found some sandals today," Makoto said with a wistfully pleased smile. "A little tight, but at least I can wear them without wanting to die."

Giggling, Minako stood up and shouldered her purse. She herself had only one small bag. "I'm glad, too. Maybe we can hit another store next weekend."

"Wait, where are you going?" Rei asked. "This isn't your stop."

"It is today. I'm going to drop in on Usagi before I head home."

"Ohhh, I'd love to see Usagi," Makoto lamented, staring down at her bags. "But I bought too much. Plus I gotta get home and start on making bento for the next few days, or I'll never get it done."

"I can't, either." At the glare from the other two, she raised a hand. "Honest! Temple duties."

Nodding, Mina jogged to the door of the bus. "I'll send her your love! Later, guys!"

Their well-wishes in her ears, she hopped off at the stop. She'd never been to Usagi's house before; or she had, but only in the entrance once before they were all headed off elsewhere. Belatedly, she wondered if she should have called ahead or asked Usagi the last time they saw each other, but she also hadn't really been planning on it before that day, so it would have been a little difficult to predict her visit. Too bad those new cellular telephones were so expensive and cumbersome; it really would be so convenient to be able to call people wherever you were.

"Hello?" Mrs. Tsukino said when she opened the door, her slightly concerned look turning into one of pleasant surprise. "Oh, you're one of Usagi's friends, aren't you? Mina?"

"Minako Aino, okaasan," she told her with a polite bow, feeling the red bow atop her blonde head rustle from the movement. "Sorry to drop by out of the blue, but I was wondering if Usagi is home?"

Ikuko's hand went to her hip, a wooden spoon dangling from the fingers. Privately, Minako couldn't help thinking that Usagi's mother was quite lovely and put-together for a middle-aged housewife, her dark, wavy hair always coiffed and pristine whenever she saw her. She wondered what her secret was.

"Afraid she isn't; I think she and Naru are at the Game Center. But they've been gone all day if you'd like to come inside and wait for her. Shouldn't be too much longer with dinnertime being soon."

At first, she fully intended to turn down that offer. But then a little smile pulled at her lips. This was actually even better! "Well… alright, I will, if you're sure she wouldn't mind me hanging around her room?"

"I imagine not," the woman laughed, stepping aside for her to enter. As she closed the door and Minako stepped out of her shoes, she added, "Usagi used to always complain that nobody except Naru came to visit her. Now that Mizuno girl is over here often enough that I could almost swear she wants to be adopted!"

"Oh!" she giggled with a wide smile. "Now I feel bad I haven't come over before! Well, I hope she's back soon. Thanks!" Another little bow, and she clomped up the stairs.

"No problem!"

Letting out a breath of relief, she turned around to try and figure out which room belonged to Usagi. The one at the end of the hall was probably that of the parents, and there were three other doors that did not belong to the bathroom. Even Inspector Zenigata could have figured out the one with a knitted rabbit-head hung on the door was probably hers. Smiling to herself, she turned the knob and stepped inside.

"Hmm, where to start?" she breathed, looking around at the mess. It was almost the same as her own, but there was less food waste; she was right, Minako won the title of 'Slobbiest Senshi'. So she started picking up a few of the shirts and socks…

But that was as far as she got before it sank in. From the moment she had opened the door, something seemed a little off to her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it immediately. Once she figured that out, she couldn't comprehend how on earth she had missed it.

Minako's face was everywhere.

Dropping the clothing, she gaped at the state of this room. Sailor V posters and wall scrolls, Sailor V pillows, Sailor V calendars, Sailor V figurines. A Sailor V pencil case sitting on her school desk, beside a handheld version of the Sailor V game. There was a lot more merchandise there than she had ever thought possible — than she even thought existed. Of course, given that she had a secret identity to protect, she couldn't simply sue these companies for cranking out all manner of items with her likeness on them without "outing" herself, so they popped up in any Akihabara shop. But she never in a million years imagined…

"Usagi," she breathed in horror. "You're an OTAKU."

Stumbling slightly on her way through the room, her fingertips brushed over a notebook with her face on it. A blanket, a backpack. She'd never used that backpack during classes, of course; she used the standard school satchel. So why even buy it?! Purely because it was yet another piece of junk with the happy-go-lucky smile and red eye-mask that everyone associated with her alter-ego? It almost made her angry, but in the context of Usagi owning this stuff…

It made her feel something else. More like hazukashii — a profound embarrassment, almost to the point of shame. One of her closest friends, someone she fought alongside against the Dark Kingdom, and her room was almost covered in pictures of her! Sure, they were ones freely available for anyone to buy, but…

Minako didn't know how long she had been sitting on the edge of Usagi's bed, despite staring up at the Sailor V clock in detached amazement, when she heard someone coming up the steps. She didn't react much, since she just assumed it would be Ikuko coming to check on her. Not Usagi herself, humming a little tune and throwing the door wide as she pranced in, then bumping it shut with her rear end before setting down her newest purchase on the low table in the middle of her room. She hoped and prayed it wasn't anything with Sailor V on it. Maybe it would just be a cute shirt. Or a Kodansha magazine, or some Pocky. Anything but…

Right at the moment Usagi noticed Minako there was when she saw it was a Sailor V duvet cover. Just about the biggest thing she could have acquired, once it was stretched over the actual duvet, and there it was between them both like the final nail in a coffin.

"O-oh!" Usagi squeaked, colour draining from her face. "Mina-chan! I… h-how did you get in here?"

"Your mom," she answered numbly.

"Cool! I mean, that's totally fine, I'm happy to see you! Um… been here long?"

"Maybe ten or twenty minutes. Not sure."

"Ah, that's not so bad."

"Yeah. Did you have fun at Game Center Crown?"

"Sure! And, um, after Naru left, I took a little detour on my way home…"

"I can see that."

The room got quiet for a few seconds. Minako drummed her fingers against her knee, and Usagi's feet shuffled nervously. Then she finally whispered, "Um… Minako…"

"Hm?"

"About… all this stuff…"

"Oh, it's fine," she said with a forced smile. "You're just… really into that Sailor V game, right? Always have been. I used to kind of go nuts for this one game, 'Lovely Fight'? It's… kind of older now…"

"Hey, I remember that one! The girl with all that awesome power-armour? Yeah, it was pretty fun. I think there's a machine in Crown still…"

"Kinda miss it, yeah."

Silence fell again. The longer this went on, the more she could see the redness blossoming in her friend's cheeks. Normally, Minako would feel bad about that, but not this time. It was just too weird. The whole situation, and being in that room surrounded by the merchandise wasn't helping.

"S-so um, what are you doing here, anyway? Not to be rude, just… I didn't think we had any plans."

"Oh. Well, um, I was going to clean your room to pay you back for cleaning mine. Like, 'one good turn saves nine', right?" That wasn't the correct phrase, but Minako couldn't remember how it went at the moment, so she moved on. "But I got, um, distracted."

"Y-yeah, I guess you would," she laughed nervously, trying to surreptitiously nudge the pencil case and the handheld game into the backpack without being too obvious. She failed, of course. "Like I said, this is just… y'know, n-not that important. I'm sorry you had to see the whole collection like this!"

"Really? Because, like…" Her open palm gestured to the posters on the wall. "It's kind of out in the open."

"Well, if you ever came up, I was gonna hide it all," she admitted, wilting slightly. "Since I couldn't predict how you'd, um…" In a quieter voice, she finished, "Are you mad?"

"Mad? No, not mad. Why would I be mad?"

"For somebody who's not mad, you're saying 'mad' a lot…"

Dropping the Sailor V throw pillow that had been sitting on her lap back on top of the other pillows, she stood up and gave an exaggerated shrug. "I mean, what's the point in feeling like that? You obviously don't hate me, or you wouldn't have my face on every available surface in here. So like, can't be mad about that!"

"But you're… upset? Disappointed? I don't know, Minako, help me!"

"Okay. Do you really want to know? I'm…" She had been so close to saying it: "disgusted". The very idea of one of her close friends having these things made her severely uncomfortable, and she wanted to disappear and forget she ever saw it. But Usagi looked so forlorn that she couldn't bring herself to do it. Still, she did ask.

"What?"

"I'm… just a little…" In the end, any word she chose was either not accurate, or too cruel. "I feel weird being in a room where my face is everywhere. That's all. So I guess it's fine that you have this stuff, even though I don't know why you'd want it, but I think I'm gonna go."

She had only taken a couple of steps before Usagi burst out, "Why I would have it? Is that what the problem is? I can tell you that! Don't go, Mina-chan!"

"Don't call me that anymore." The yip of pure pain from Usagi shot through her heart, so she turned and sighed. "Sorry. I'm probably overreacting, but this is just mondo bizarro! We know each other! Why would you want to… to sleep under a duvet with me on it?! Do you know what that sounds like?"

Now the blush got a lot worse as the implication sunk into Usagi's brain, and she stammered, "N-no, Minako, I promise I'm n-not a pervert, I don't- that isn't how I thought of you, seriously, it never was! B-but when I first became Sailor Moon, y-you were the only… I felt so lost, and scared, and like I couldn't do it, but I would t-try to be like you!"

"Like me?" she muttered, caught off guard by the idea.

"YES! Like, I already thought you were- well, no, that Sailor V was really tough and cool, and I liked the game and stuff, a-and I had a few of these things. But once I found out I had powers? Sometimes…" She took a deep breath, trying to find more courage even though she was shaking worse with each passing second, voice growing quieter. "Sometimes you were the only thing that got me through a fight! Trying to think of what you would do, remembering that… you would always win, a-and you looked perfect doing it, and that's what I wanted to be! And after that, I guess I did get a little obsessed with collecting Sailor V stuff, b-because it was like, a connection to you- or her!"

Though she was listening all along, the last part struck her as odd, and she had to shake off her daze. "Wait, wait. Why do you say it like that? I mean, I am Sailor V. You know that by now!"

"Not really! I mean… yeah, I know you are, but not in my mind, okay? I still see her as like, a character that I really looked up to! And then there's Minako, my friend, who's not the same; like, sometimes I do feel really lucky to be hanging out with you when I remember that's who you are, but n-not all the time! I swear!"

All of this sounded like double-talk and excuse-making to Minako. Especially with the way Usagi was blushing and sweating; she looked guilty, ashamed of herself. Just like any nerdboy who had been caught with a body pillow of his favourite idol… by the idol herself.

"Really? Do you swear?" Minako stepped a little closer, leaning so their faces were an inch apart. Usagi gulped, head drawing back a fraction of an inch but not daring to step backward or try to push her away. "Because I do like you as a friend, Usagi, but now I'm starting to think you might be a… yuri."

That got her to pause, shocked. Her blue eyes flicked down toward how close they were and back up again. Minako took another step, backing her all the way up to the edge of the desk. "Me?! Into Girls' Love? N-no, it isn't… I've n-never…" But she wasn't trying very hard to protest.

Suddenly, Minako felt a slight possibility that there might be something to her joking accusation. And instantly, she regretted making it. Mostly, she had been hoping that if she teased Usagi a little more, she might feel bad about making her so uncomfortable and promise to stop buying up Sailor V merchandise. Even if she didn't, she could at least show her the effect it had on her friend, and maybe she'd be more sensitive to the situation. But if Usagi really was interested in her beyond simple companionship…

"It's okay," she suddenly whispered, gulping hard. Usagi had to know that she didn't mean what she had said, and that she certainly didn't think a collection of random junk was worth destroying their friendship over. "Sorry for being so… w-well, I'm sorry. But don't worry about it; we can keep this between us."

"Between us?" she breathed softly. "It's really okay?"

"Yeah. I mean… yeah, I might have flipped out a little at first, but now… y-yeah, I'm okay with it. You can't help if you let it get a little out of hand."

Usagi nodded, wide blue eyes blinking a few times as she leaned a little closer. "Mina-chan… I can't believe you really don't… a-and I know you aren't Sailor V, I know that. Or you are, but y-you're not the same person that I used to feel so… I'm not an otaku, I know the difference between… fantasy and reality."

"Fantasy, huh?" Her mouth twitched into a slight smile, and she could tell Usagi was watching it. "What kind of fantasies did you have?" Maybe this would even be cute; something about a very new Sailor Moon ready to fight alongside her "senpai" — even if she didn't really feel like much like a soldier of a higher rank, since they were all the same age. After all, she'd felt the same way about Wonder Woman when she was reading her comics during her stay in London.

What she didn't expect was for Usagi to lower her eyes and whisper, "Just… meeting her, I guess? Getting to ask her how she made it look so easy? I d-don't know. But… meeting you as Venus was way better. Like, I'm so happy you're my friend… s-so I don't want you thinking that some silly girl-crush matters to me, okay? Please tell me you understand." Her voice got even quieter as she urged, "Please…"

Two words among all the others took her breath away. "Girl-crush?"

"Y-yeah. I mean, just because I thought Sailor V was massively cute — I mean, like all girls look up to older girls, right? Come on, I didn't imagine you putting my head in your lap and petting my hair or anything!" She tried for a laugh, but it sounded so forced and grating that it was clearly fake. Just like her last statement.

"Like this?" Her hand came up to fall on Usagi's hair, gliding along it gently. Usagi shivered, but didn't react that much otherwise, and she drew her fingers away immediately. "Sorry. I, um, now I feel stupid — that wasn't supposed to be teasing you for it, I promise!"

Her head shook from side to side, flashing her a small smile. "Nah, it's okay! I just… well, it's not really her. I'm not kidding, I really don't see Sailor V just looking at you; I see my gal pal, Mina-chan. S-so you don't have to feel so awkward about… like…" Her hand gestured to the posters, the duvet cover. "I know it might not make a lot of sense to you, but I'm totally serious about that. You're you, and she's her. To me."

That gave her an idea. A very odd, very ludicrous idea, and she was fairly certain it was also a bad one. But she decided she might as well try it. As things stood now, if she didn't find out what the difference would be, she would probably always walk around expecting Usagi to turn into some mouth-breathing perv at any moment. And she didn't want that. Not with her good friend and comrade.

"Hey," she started, stepping back. "I wanna try something. Can you, um… close your eyes for a sec?"

"Huh?" Her eyes narrowed. "Are you gonna hit me?"

"Who am I, Rei?! Nothing like that. I promise. Just… try it, and keep 'em closed." With a shrug, the bun-headed girl slapped her hands over her eyes. Then Minako took out her compact; a tool she had not used in quite some time. Raising it toward the ceiling, she called out, "Crescent Moon Power, TRANSFORM!"

As the room filled with light, she could hear Usagi cry out, "Whaa?!" but she didn't peek. After the swirling of invisible winds subsided, she still covered her face tightly.

"You can look now."

When Usagi lowered her hands, she saw her idol standing before her. Minako hadn't donned the Sailor V outfit in quite some time; she didn't need it when working with the other Senshi. Not that there was a wealth of difference between that and the Venus outfit, other than the eye-mask; a few details on the suit barely worth mentioning. Originally, she had thought the mask would help maintain her secret identity, but that was before Artemis told her about the "aura" she and the others had that helped keep ordinary people from realising who they were.

The difference was immediate. Usagi was still blushing at a similar level, but it was very easy to see the difference in why she was blushing. Before, it had been due to having her "hobby" found out, and feeling guilty about her friend's involvement. Now…

"It's really you," she breathed softly. Then she shook her head out and laughed. "God, I sound dumb. I know it's you! I just… well…"

"Hello, young lady!" she said in her best superhero voice, hands on her hips. "I am Sailor V!" They both laughed for a moment. "How are you today?"

"Great, Sailor V!" she gushed, followed by more giggles. Usagi had to bend double for a moment, hands clutching her stomach. "Oh wow, we must be losing it!"

Grinning, she reached up and braced herself against Usagi's shoulder to keep from falling over. After a moment, she was able to catch her breath. "Okay… okay, for real this time. How are you, Miss Odango?"

"Very well, thank you," she told her with a small curtsy, voice still laced with amusement.

"I've heard that you are my number-one fan. Tell me, why do you feel this way?"

Usagi rolled her eyes, waving a hand. "I get it, Mina-chan, I get it. You can cut it out now."

"Actually, I'm serious. You have Sailor V right here, in your room, ready to listen. What have you always wanted to tell her?" Turning around, she caught sight of the comfortable bench in front of Usagi's vanity and took a seat — though she kept her posture erect, hoping that was how a "superhero" would sit. "Go on."

"Well… no, I couldn't." But Minako didn't flinch, or do anything other than sit patiently. So eventually, she sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at her knees. "You really want to hear all that?"

"Of course. Sailor V fights to protect the world in the name of love and justice! What her fans think of her is very important, too."

The blush was coming back now that they weren't tittering so much. After a few seconds of kicking her legs back and forth, toes skimming over the pink area rug, she finally whispered, "I think you're the coolest." But that was all she could get out before hiding her face behind her hands. "Ugh, this is so lame! I'M so lame!"

"You're not. I promise. Come on, tell me anything."

"You're… my role model, Sailor V," she went on in a more earnest voice. As if glad for her chance now that Mina had convinced her she could trust it. "And I'm really lucky to get to talk to you. Never thought you would, even if we did meet. I mean, I'm just some dopey brat with two left feet who can't even figure out how to fight…"

That hurt to hear, but Minako focused on playing her role. "Don't worry about that. You're doing your best, Miss Odango. That's all we can do, every day." Then she gestured for her. "Come here."

"Huh?" When she saw the hand patting her lap, she giggled self-consciously. "C-come on, that's not…" But it patted again, harder, and she inched closer. Usagi froze up, so Minako moved to the bed. Only then did she slowly tip over, needing a hand to press her downward before she finally did lay in her lap.

"It's alright, Odango-san. Tell me what's in your heart." The longer she did this, the easier it got. Her voice was low and soothing, and Usagi seemed to be responding. She finally relaxed, though her hand was clenching on her duvet.

"You're so beautiful. It was the first thing I ever thought about you; that you were one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. In Japan, or anywhere! A-and after that, I thought… how cool it must be to be you. How I'd give anything to just see you save someone, or be saved by you. To have your hand touch my face and tell me that everything would be alright. I thought if you did that, I m-might really… believe it."

"Usagi…" That had been a slip, but she recovered quickly, petting along her hair just as she had requested. Running her gloved fingers through the strands of her pigtails. "Do you want me to brush your hair?"

"Ehhhh?! Really?" It was easy for her to reach the vanity from there, so she grabbed the hairbrush while Usagi undid her odango and let her hair fall loose. As she brushed, Usagi hummed, leaning into the touch.

"You could have asked me for this at any time. I know how special you are. Even when you aren't showing it to the world. And you're special without being Sailor Moon; a woman like you who loves her friends is a great treasure."

Usagi curled in a little tighter on herself, though she wasn't shaking or otherwise reacting. After a few more brush-strokes, she whispered, "I always wanted a big sister, too… someone to do this for me besides my mother. And you're so pretty, and brave, and confident… and you always got the bad guy. Made me wish I could be your sidekick."

"Well, you can. Come look in the mirror." Sitting her up, she guided Usagi forward a bit so they could both see themselves in the vanity mirror from the bedside. Then she took off her mask and held it front of Usagi's face.

"Uwaa?"

"Now you're like me," she told her softly, smiling wide. It was true enough; with their hair brushed out in a similar fashion, it was about the same length, the same shade of blonde. Maybe Minako was a bit taller and their faces weren't identical, but anyone who didn't know them intimately would think Usagi was Sailor V now. "You're Sailor V. And I'm sure with this mask on, you'd be just as cool, just as courageous. And you're definitely just as pretty."

For a moment, she had been completely absorbed into this fantasy. Cheeks glowing, eyes twinkling to see herself looking like her hero. But the last line seemed to break the spell. She was still happy, but she sighed, turning to look at Minako as she moved the mask back up to its owner's eyes.

"Not as pretty. There's no one in the world as beautiful as Sailor V, and I will fight you on that one."

What was this feeling now? Her heart was pounding in her throat, eyes blinking rapidly in response to what had snuck up on her. Some kind of… pleasurable thing. Maybe joy? Appreciation? Smiling and looking away, seeing the edges of the red mask again in her peripheral vision, she whispered, "You're wrong, Usa-chan."

"Am I? Maybe you haven't seen yourself. You look like an idol!"

"I do not." And she would know, because she would love to be one of those girls. It had always been her dream.

"Yes, you do." Her lips pushed upward into Minako's cheek, prompting a soft gasp of surprise. "Better than any idol, too. Because I know that you're not just cute; you're a great friend who put on a mask, and… and tried to make me feel better about having all this creepy junk in my room. Thanks so much, Mina-chan."

By now, she was having trouble finding any words. Usagi thought she was the most beautiful person? An idol, a brave hero? It was too much, and yet it made her as happy as it did mixed up inside. Everyone seemed to underestimate the diminutive bun-head because she wasn't very academically gifted, or athletic, or coordinated. But there were other strengths in life.

"You… don't need this junk anymore," she told her softly. She saw the eyes darken with fresh shame, so she hurried to finish, "Because now you have the real Sailor V. Anytime you need her, she's right here. And she's all yours." To seal the deal, she leaned in to give her back the sweet cheek-kiss…

Going back over it in her mind, she couldn't be sure how it happened. Maybe Usagi had moved in the same instant, either on purpose or accidentally, or maybe she had done it because it simply felt right to pair their lips with one another. It was a feather-light touch that seemed to last for hours, but also ended within an instant. When Minako could think again, she found her hands had drifted up to gently cradle her friend's head, and one stray hand of hers had found its way down to her own waist.

"Usa… ch-chan…" That was all either of them had to say. Usagi was blinking up at her, confused but curious, cheeks rosy and mouth slightly open. And in that moment, she'd never looked more sweet.

A bird cawing somewhere snapped them out of it. Scooting to opposite ends of the bed, they looked away and Usagi laughed, "Y-yeah! Thanks, Sailor V! I'll… I'll call you when I need you!"

"Right! It's- y-yes, that's fine! I'm in the book!" They laughed again… and something about the way Usagi looked down, flushed and bashful, then just barely glanced up at her through her eyelashes, made her say, "For another kiss, or just advice! Whatever!"

"AH! Another kiss?!" But when Minako slapped her hands over her mouth, Usagi hurried to say, "S-sure! If you want, we… I m-mean, hey, I'd kiss you right now if that's what you want!"

The way "WHAT?!" burst out of her mouth made Usagi cringe. "Oh, that's- I didn't mean to scare you! But um… y-yeah, I wouldn't ask that of a citizen!"

"You can ask it of me anytime! I mean… y-you could ask me to do anything and I'd do it…" Her face was turning redder and redder. "Which, um, I m-might have thought I had some limits before, but this kind of proves that when it comes to you, all bets are off! Right? Which is crazy, since I've only had dreams like this, n-never thought about it otherwise…"

"You've had dreams? About me?" A tiny nod. "About kissing me?" Another nod, and Minako felt pins and needles all along her spine, the backs of her knees. "Wow… so which is better, the dreams or… or what we just did?"

"GAH! I can't answer that!" She flopped backward, legs windmilling in the air as she squealed. Despite the situation, Minako smiled at how cute the reaction was, and leaned back on the bed to watch her for a moment. When she recovered, she rolled over and stared at her. "Sailor V is on my bed…"

"Sailor V kissed you on your bed." More squealing, and she had to grin at that. "And… would kiss you again, if you wanted. But only on one condition."

"Name it!" Belatedly, she slapped herself in the forehead. "Ugh, way to sound over-eager, Usako…"

Giggling, she reached up and took off her mask. "You kiss Minako Aino, just once. I mean… I want to know where we stand, and how much of it is the superhero getup."

"But Minako is my friend…" Usagi fidgeted, indecisive. She understood; this was a different barrier being broken for her. In the end, she shrugged and smiled shyly. "Besides, why would Minako want to kiss me, either?"

"Because you're a great kisser. And I happen to have heard that from Sailor V herself." She touched her compact and de-transformed back into her weekend clothes. Simple blue overall-dress with a white shirt underneath, orange sandals left downstairs. She saw a slight look of disappointment flash across Usagi's face, but to her credit, she really did try to hide it rather quickly. "So it's the V fuku that does it for you, huh?"

Alarmed, she held up a hand as she laughed nervously. "N-no! Well… I guess it does, which is news to me as much as you, but I… we probably sh-should test this. Because you're my friend, and it's important to know… um…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What kind of friend. Isn't it?"

They were kissing again in no time. As far as Minako was concerned, it was just as spectacular, just as strange and wild and new, just as delicious in a way she didn't think kisses could be. All from Usagi, of all people! Though she did feel a little difference in how much purpose she felt, how much passion… Usagi definitely was more eager for V, but seemed more at ease when she wasn't being intimidated by the knowledge that her heroine was the one kissing back. Despite the fact that, either way, it was really the same person.

"Oh my GOD," the bun-head breathed when she pulled back, panting and staring up at the ceiling. "What… what did we do? I… I kissed Mina-chan!"

"You kissed two girls in one day," she teased breathlessly. That got them giggling and curling to face each other, pulled up on the bed now and comfortable, fractions of inches away from each other, knees touching but otherwise held apart. Then she reached up to pet over her cheek. "Usagi… I don't really have any experience with this. I kind of gave up the idea of ever dating when I awakened as Sailor V, and then Venus. But like… this is… different. We're part of the same world. So maybe…"

"Maybe it's alright?" she whispered back, guessing correctly what she had wanted to say but had been afraid to say first. Then she nodded. "I mean, I kinda had a crush on Sailor V, and Mamoru, and Tuxedo Mask, and Motoki… s-so I guess I'm not very professional." Minako's little snort made her smile. "But here's you, kissing me for real now, and it feels way more right than any of that daydreaming ever did!"

Smiling, she leaned up and pecked Usagi's lips, prompting an excited giggle. "I'm the Senshi of Love, right? Makes sense to me."

"Mmm… oh, Mina-chan, what are we going to tell all the others?"

"Nothing," she said right away. "Not until we're ready. Which, um, I don't think I am yet. Are you?"

"NO! Like, how do you even start talking about Girls' Love with your best friends?! They'll think we're grosser than you did when you got here!"

Giggling, Minako leaned in to peck her lips again. "You're probably right." That devolved into yet another soft, slow kiss, and she still couldn't get over how weird it was to be kissing anyone, let alone the klutzy team leader she had been ready to dismiss as an otaku.

Speaking of which… after a few minutes of that, Usagi pulled back and gasped, "WOW! So, um… I have kind of a weird question."

"Shoot," she just barely managed to breathe, clearing her throat a moment later.

"Okay. So… all this Sailor V stuff. You're probably gonna want me to get rid of it, huh?"

"Definitely." At the disappointed sigh, she reached up to pet along her cheek to console her. "Hey, do you really need it with the real me around?"

Usagi did struggle with herself for a moment before she exploded, "No, but some of it's really rare! Like, that calendar? They were only giving that out at the ramen stand that day! Probably only a few hundred of them in Tokyo!"

Both of Minako's eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "Fine, then the calendar can stay."

"And I guess I could take back the duvet cover, since I just got that and haven't used it yet. But don't make me give up the throw pillow!" As if afraid it would suddenly burst into flames, she snagged the pillow bearing Sailor V's face and hugged it to her chest, eyes dancing with moisture. "Please, please, pleeeaaase? If you let me have this, I won't ever ask you to be V for me when we kiss…"

"That doesn't sound like a promise you can keep," she giggled as she kissed Usagi's forehead, secretly loving how cute and nerdy Usagi was acting. Which was as much laughing at herself, since she used to have a high distaste for nerds after a few unpleasant encounters with them, but somehow when it was Usagi, everything was different. She was different — from anyone she'd ever known. "Alright, alright. But can I ask why? You didn't used to practice making out on that pillow, did you?" A long pause. "Usa-chan?"

The lack of reply spoke volumes.

                                                               THE END

                                                           [Next: Outtakes!]

[adoranymph]

[2:05 pm-ish, April 20, 2019]

Man, there is nothing that puts me in a fouler mood than when I let my own personal procrastination demon get the better of me on a perfectly free Saturday to the point that I don’t start getting any writing done until after 2 in the afternoon. I had planned to get up early and everything, and I even did. Sort of.

I scrolled through a ton of YouTube videos first, and before I knew it, it was nearing ten in the morning and I still needed to eat something. Ugh, so I did that…and then I committed the sin of hibernating on the couch for a couple of hours to catch up on some anime-related stuff. Though it was the sort that always manages to fuel my inspiration and imagination.

[Present Day]

Okay, I know what you’re thinking: that all’s no excuse, every procrastinating writer says that as they convince themselves to turn on Netflix or Hulu to “get inspiration” instead of writing and end up marathoning that show they really just want to finish so they’re caught up with everyone else, and because they love it so much.

Just the same, it did give me what I needed to open up my laptop and start working towards my writing goal for the day working on editing and polishing my manuscript: I finally got around to watching Kara No Kyoukai: Mirai Fukuin – Recalled Out Summer and Recalled Out Summer: Extra Chorus.

Okay, now that probably doesn’t mean a whole lot just by a name-drop, but let me explain. After all, that’s the whole point of this blog post: My love letter to Type-Moon. (And yes, I realize I’m not the first person to express said love in a blog post.)

Saber from the Fate Series and Ryougi Shiki from Kara No Kyoukai: The Garden of Sinners

Type-Moon is a Japanese game company known primarily for their visual novels. Not really a thing here in the West, at least not as much if at all, but when I was first introduced to the concept of visual novels, I thought of them as choose-your-own-adventures played as an electronic game rather than read as a book. As I’ve come to better understand it, it’s kind of like that, you do make certain decisions that can lead to certain endings, but sometimes, as in the case of arguably Type-Moon’s most well-known visual novel, Fate/Stay Night, the point is to play through three different versions of the same story premise: kid gets dragged into ancient battle royale known as the Holy Grail War, and with each version of the story, or “route”, being played through, each featuring a different heroine for our protagonist, Shirou Emiya. One route builds upon the previous, and each route gets subsequently darker in terms of plot points and content.

Fate/Zero, incidentally (and my #1 favorite anime ever), is the prequel to that, and succeeds where most prequels don’t, since it’s a tragedy (I’ll go into more detail on that in my upcoming post about how Fate/Zero succeeds as a prequel). That was written as a light novel (kinda like a YA novel, or well, a shorter novel, so “light” novel) before it was adapted into an anime, and sets up the events of all three routes in Stay Night. So, it confirms that no matter what route you’re in in Stay Night, the events of Zero hold true for each of them. (Which is interesting when you consider the damage some of the characters in Stay Night have been living with since Zero, yet they may or may not come up in Stay Night depending on what route’s being played.)

Cover art for Fate/Zero blu-ray box set 

The co-founders of Type-Moon, writer Kinoko Nasu and illustrator Takashi Takeuchi, have come up with some pretty interesting and awesomely cool material in my opinion, and not only for Stay Night, which ultimately culminated in launching the Fate franchise, which has…a HUGE number of titles, and with the anime adaptations of Zero, the original of Stay Night, and the reboots of Stay Night covering the two subsequent routes that the original couldn’t really cover, a bunch more titles in the franchise have each been getting their own anime adaptations in turn, as though there was suddenly this HUGE frenzy for Fate title after Fate title to be adapted into an anime, demonstrating just how sprawling the lore and fanbase of this franchise is.

Promo art for Fate/Grand Order

And if that weren’t enough, there isn’t just Fate, there are other Type-Moon-developed visual novels whose worlds are connected to that of Fate. The only two I’m aware of for sure are Tsukihime and Kara No Kyoukai. (And then there’s Canaan, which was developed by Type-Moon too and its wonderful little 13-episode series in its own way, though I’ve been unable to verify for sure just how much if at all it’s connected with the aforementioned titles.) While I haven’t been able to get into Tsukihime much at all, since I can’t shell out to get my hands on the original visual novel, translated or not, and the anime is notorious for sucking so much that most deny it even exists, I have been able to get into Kara No Kyoukai, a series of films adapted originally from a seven-series online novel written by Nasu, and are seen by many as primers to the world of the Nasuverse (or the world of Type-Moon), which makes sense since when you see it you can recognize characters and plot points that feel like they were taken and reworked for things like Fate. Despite that though, they still do in fact exist in the same universe all as their own characters with their own stories.

Yeah it’s a lot. And the Kara No Kyoukai films cost a pretty penny, but this year I at long last got my hands on both the bluray box set of both the original seven films, as well as the additional film (Future Gospel and Recalled Out Summer: Prelude), and the extra special (Recalled Out Summer: Extra Chorus) just this year–stories that Nasu had an idea for after the original seven came out, but had not written in novel form. I’ve watched the first seven several times at least, but I was hesitant for the longest time about seeing the eighth film and the extra specials, since the first seven tied together so satisfyingly well, to put it mildly. But I finally gave in because I just love Type-Moon that much. And in the end, I was happy I got it, if only to have more Type-Moon in my life.

And that love compelled me to write out, essentially, a love letter conveying that love to Type-Moon. I’ve developed a lot of plot points for both my novel manuscript, as well as my style and voice as a writer, from the material I’ve seen from Type-Moon.

Cover art for blu ray box set of Kara No Kyoukai: The Garden of Sinners original seven-film series

Fate/Zero was my induction, the jumping off point from which I finally took the plunge (some would argue watching the 2006 adaptation of the first route of Fate/Stay Night first is more prudent, but if I’m being honest, I tried that, and just couldn’t get through it knowing something like Fate/Zero was out there–I just couldn’t wait, though eventually I did end up owning and watching the original 2006 Stay Night, mostly because I was starved for Fate material until more of the anticipated new content came out, and because I was able to get a DVD copy of the series for $10.00–more than worth it, it turned out).

Promo art for Fate/Stay Night (2006)

Anyway, Zero pulled me in not just with eye-candy, godly levels of animation quality unprecedented in an anime TV series (considering how much budgeting goes into animation on the whole in the industry), and not just with its very epic concept of the Holy Grail War and all that that entailed as well, but also with its characters.

I adored Waver Velvet, the underdog student of magecraft who, despite being in over his head as the youngest participant in the War, manages to summon the hero Alexander the Great to act as his Servant, the one who’ll fight the other Masters by proxy with Servants of their own, all of them famous figures plucked from history and legend (with some creative license, in some cases a lot). And throughout the course of the War, they form an admirable friendship.

I despaired over the fate of Kariya Matou, who was basically the character that every show like this has, the one that gets ALL THE CRAP thrown at him, and undeservedly of course, as he tried so hard to win just for the sake of saving a girl from the abuses of her adoptive family, even with the cards stacked against him.

I relished in the development of the villain Kirei Kotomine, who could’ve just come off as your typical priest-that’s-secretly-a-bad-seed, but instead is SO much more than that, and it’s awesome.

Then there’s Gilgamesh, the sort of OP, arrogant villain you love to hate, but also the kind that has the power to back up his boasting being master of the universe.

Then you’ve got Saber, i.e. King Arthur, who despite apparently really being a girl named Arturia, all this time, still lives up to the namesake of the legendary King of the Britons.

And of course, my favorite of all, Kiritsugu Emiya. The relationship he shares with his wife, Irisviel von Einzbern, and their daughter, Illya; the motivations for why he does what he does unfolding as the show progresses, culminating in him finding redemption in at least being able to save the life of his eventual-adopted son, Shirou from the War’s fiery collateral damage at its climax; the epic rivalry between him and Kirei Kotomine; the way his methods clash with Saber’s chivalric values; the fact that he gets all of the best qualities of what I love so much about Takashi Takeuchi’s character designs. (Which is another way of saying he’s drawn so appealingly to me that he’s made it to #1 on my list of husbandos. That’s right, I said it!) The whole story and arc of his character is one of the, if not the, most poignant things I have ever seen in an any form of media. Never has a character made me physically ache at the thought of everything he went through, combined with the bittersweetness of his and Irisviel’s love story, as well as that of his love for Illya.

  It’s basically everything I’ve ever wanted in a story’s emotional core or emotional foundation, and definitely served as a turning point in terms of my own writing, particularly seeing as how it’s a feels dynamic I’ve wanted to write for years. So thank you for that, Type-Moon: somehow, some way, much in the way that the universe miraculously weaves together a human being by a near infinite number of factors, you’ve managed to craft my own personal Holy Grail of an emotional story component.

Indeed, since the discovery of the Kiritsugu x Irisviel ship (an underappreciated gem depending on who you talk to), I haven’t found any ships to exceed that level of emotional perfection. I’ve found ones that come close, even ones that equal it, but thus far, in my eyes, Kiri x Iri is unrivaled, and probably never will be.

  Sadly, this scene was not in the anime. Just in the Realta Nua re-release of the Fate/Stay Night VN game for PSP. 😦

In terms of ones that have equalled it though, one of those came unsurprisingly from another Type-Moon work, the aforementioned Kara No Kyoukai, and its main romantic core of the delightfully darkly complicated relationship of Ryougi Shiki and Kokutou Mikiya. That was another pleasant surprise. I had already fallen hard for Fate/Zero and everything it had to offer, but I’d heard of Kara No Kyoukai before that. It had been on my to-watch list for a while, but I’d say that learning that it takes place in same universe as Fate, the Nasuverse that is, it sort of drove me to get my hands on it a little sooner.

Cover art for Volume IV of the box set for Kara No Kyoukai: The Garden of Sinners VII: …not nothing heart, with Shiki and Mikiya (OMG the feels)

My first copy was, admittedly, one of those many, many bootlegs floating around eBay (hem, hem), but at long last (especially since I got a bluray player (FINALLY) for this past Christmas), I was able to purchase the beautiful bluray boxset release of all seven movies, plus the special edition bluray for the Recalled Out Summer extras, because why not? Sure, again, the latter works basically as a sort of sweet but small desert to a large delicious main course, but that sweetness is worth it regardless, because it’s sweet, especially when you get treated to sweet strawberries in that sweet strawberry Hagan-Dasz ice cream of an extra story of things like seeing that (SPOILERS) Shiki and Mikiya eventually have an adorable little daughter named Mana, who for her limited screen time, does indeed seem to be the perfect blend of her parents. Plus it’s just great to see something so normal yet wondrous result from a romance that if not for a saving grace or two, probably would’ve ended in bloody tragedy.

Cover art for Recalled Out Summer box set featuring Shiki and Mikiya

Cover art for Recalled Out Summer blu ray set featuring Ryougi Mana (Shiki and Kokutou’s daughter, and Mitsuru Kamekura

  So yeah, I’ve come to learn that when it comes to Type-Moon, where romance and personal relationships come in, the writing nine times out of ten shines (with the first true failure to connect with me coming in Fate/Extra Encore, and even then, because of the production studio behind it, it at least benefited me with flashbacks triggered by similar imagery used in another one of my favorite anime, Madoka Magica).

Again, sorry I haven’t been able to get into Tsukihime, but I’m not completely blind. There’s that anime adaptation that doesn’t exist ha, ha. In all seriousness though, I’m familiar with the basic premise, and some of the plot points seem to overlap other Type-Moon works. Plus there’s Wikipedia.

And Carnival Phantasm! Which is a little series Type-Moon produced as a celebration of their ten-year anniversary, something to reward the fans for being fans, and while I was at a disadvantage where a lot of the Tsukihime material came up, I still enjoyed it well enough, going on what I knew. But seeing as how Fate is arguably the most successful Type-Moon franchise, the ratio of Fate to Tsukihime material was almost 2:1. Which was awesome, as I basically got to see Type-Moon not only poke fun at itself and parodize its own characters, but actually give a sunnier if brief existence for some of these characters (because quite a lot of Type-Moon characters’ actual lives are SUCKY to put it lightly).

Screenshot of the Carnival Phantasm OP

For as sprawling as the lore of Type-Moon’s stories have grown, particulary with their Fate/Grand Order online game which seems to explore every single available Heroic Spirit that can be summoned as a Servant for your very own Holy Grail War, and the events of which have also been getting adaptations (the most recent exploring Gilgamesh’s past, and that has me intrigued if I’m being honest), there’re so many buried gems to find in there in terms of character and ideas and thoughts on life. Kara No Kyoukai in particular tends to philosophize quite a bit and contemplate things like reality, time, identity, balance, building a foundation for the world as a whole according to the Nasuverse. A bit like comic books, Fate in particular is one of those things where it’s debatable anymore where one should start, some answers being more correct than others, but once you find a place where you dip your toe in and get accustomed to the water, it’s easy to get wrapped up in what it’s various stories centered around the Holy Grail War are concerned.

I love stuff like that, and I’ve been inspired in my own work not just by Type-Moon on its own, but studio ufotable as well, which seems to be the ultimate Fate adaptation machine. Sure other studios do some of the lesser known titles (again like Extra), but ufotable got the reboot of Fate/Stay Night‘s second route, Unlimited Bladeworks, the adaptation of Fate/Zero before that, the film trilogy adaptation of the final Fate/Stay Night route Heaven’s Feel, and even the lighthearted quasi-AU Today’s Menu for Emiya Family, which is the Stay Night story if it was taken over by a cooking show, almost like Carnival Phantasm but not a parody, and still acknowledging the darker parts of the Fate universe, if distantly. Something about the care ufotable puts into their characterizations, along with the animation and art quality and the awesome voice-acting for the seiyuu and English VAs that end up getting casted (although I’m aware where the English casts are concerned that comes from the western licensing company that picks it up and not actually studio ufotable).

And then with Kara No Kyoukai, also made by ufotable, you get an expanse on this universe and its mechanics. It’s a bit vague on how magic works in both this and Fate, but I’ve actually found the idea of basing fantastic elements in the real word fascinating, not urban fantasy but something more than that. And the concepts it brings up. Like people having these things called “origins”, a certain trait from which their soul or being originated from within the Akashic Record, or “The Route” that once “awakened” in a person causes that trait to consume them. So if a person’s origin is “to consume”, and that’s awakened in that person (this requires a mage and the consent of the person who’s origin is being awakened), then they’ll say…embrace their desire to slaughter people en masse and then literally consume them afterward. Like this guy.

Ryougi Shiki vs. Shirazumi Lio – get him, Shiki, get that crazy S.O.B.!

Yeah, that’s the other thing. Apart from the things like origins and The Root or “Akashic Record” (which from what I’ve gathered is like the source of “everything” with a capital E: life, the universe, everything, and no, it’s not the number 42), Type-Moon’s world is what I like to call “beautifully dark”. Not a particularly unique thing, but either way, Type-Moon pulls it off well. There are moments of levity, but there are also very grotesque and disturbing goings-on underneath all that beauty, and even those things are beautiful in their own way. Sure, there are things like vampires or “dead apostles” floating around, and there’s a fair bit of bloody death, but then you’ve got corrupted Heroic Spirits who steal your heart and drink the blood from it like they’re squeezing the juice from a prickly pear, eye-powers that allow for a person to twist anything they want with their mind (including living human bodies), tentacle monsters crushing small children, souls jammed inside puppet bodies that start to fall apart to reveal their meaty, gear-riddled interiors, and life-sucking, magic-giving worms that consume the bodies of their hosts from within (okay we’ll file that under “beautiful grotesque”). And then there’s the aforementioned bloodthirsty killer whose origin is to consume and thus consumes the corpses of his victims (yeah, that Shirazumi Lio guy, see above, he does that)…when he doesn’t do weird stuff like contort them and mark them with the yin-and-yang symbol.

Just to list a few.

The name for Kara No Kyoukai in English is usually The Garden of Sinners, though Kara No Kyoukai literally translated actually means “The Boundary of Emptiness”. But a garden full of sinners is apt for one of the titles in the Type-Moon universe. In some ways that and things like Fate almost transcend storytelling when adapted well, and with godly animation and music (both Fate/Zero and Kara No Kyoukai‘s OSTs were composed by the incomparable Yuki Kajiura, who’s practically the authority on darkly beautiful and epic themes) to back up the engaging storylines.

And speaking of Yuki Kajiura, I’d like to take this moment to not only give props to her work with Fate adaptations, but Hideyuki Fukusawa as well, the main OST composer for the Unlimited Bladeworks reboot, as well as Kenji Kawai, who composed the OST for the original 2006 Fate–that adaptation might have its drawbacks, but that OST does wonders and is seriously underrated, especially considering this is the guy who composed the OST for the original Ghost in the Shell film.

Nothing is perfect, but nevertheless, this is a fictional world that I have fallen irrevocably in love with, much in the same way I did with Harry Potter, though I’ve grown since then. And I just wanted to extend and express that appreciation and love to something that has inspired me and the way I approach my writing going forward so incredibly.

So, thank you, Type-Moon, for the awesomeness you offer, in all its forms. You have my most sincere and utmost praise and respect. I hope that even when the last of the Fate routes, Heaven’s Feel, has finally received its full and deserved adaptation in the trilogy of films, that this is not the last the world will see of your wonderful content. You have more than earned your loyal and adoring fan base ten times over. You are amazing! ❤

Love Letter to Type-Moon Man, there is nothing that puts me in a fouler mood than when I let my own personal procrastination demon get the better of me on a perfectly free Saturday to the point that I don't start getting any writing done until after 2 in the afternoon.

[oh-my-otome]

Hi! Can u do a reactions to the MC accidentally kissing another suitor and their suitor ends up seeing it. Or the suitors getting jealous of something? (Dtl). Thank you and I hope your vacay was wonderful! The pics look great :)

Since you asked for two different things, let’s mix them up a bit by doing both!

Let’s start with the DtL suitors seeing an accidental kiss, and then some quick jealousy fics!

Kyo & Yamazaki: Nooooo! Precious Anon! Why do you want me to hurt these buns!? 

Hijikata: Doesn’t care that it was an accident, assigns the guy who kissed you extra shifts and runs him ragged for a week.

Kondo & Sakamoto: Sumbish betta run. I can’t see either one of them doing anything other than opening up some fine grade, vintage, top shelf Whoop Ass. But if you want me to write a story about it:

Once upon a time, Kondo & Sakamoto killed a dude until he died to death. The end.

Okubo: Without a sound, gets up and shuffles downstairs and out the door in the direction of the bookseller’s, mumbling all the while that his dictionary isn’t thick enough to “slap a bish” with.

Yuki (to your face): “Meh, it happens.”

Yuki (every time he sees the guy): Casually brandishes short sword.

Saito: He tried to remain level-headed, and maintain his business smile, but that only lasted as long as it took for him to get back from walking you home. Challenged the dude to a match in front of the whole compound.

Takasugi: It’s adorable how Katsura thinks Takasugi can hear his frantic cries of “it was an accident!” over the sound of him sharpening his knife.

Katsura: Actively suppressing the fact that it strangely turned him on.

***

Keiki: In a quiet dark alleyway, as the dust and dirt roll by his sandals, staining his expensive socks and marring the hem of his kimono, Keiki stops to collect his breath, before rounding to face the shadowy nothingness behind him.

“Leave me.”

“But young master–”

“I said go!”

Without a sound, a pair of hands extend toward him in the darkness, and in the low lighting, Keiki can just barely make out the print of his haori, folded neatly in the man’s hands.

He tutted under his breath, making no move to take it. He didn’t appreciate being babied right now, not that he would appreciate it in another circumstance.

“Milord, if you will at least cover up, before you catch a chill.”

Before he could protest, the air flaps around him, and Keiki can feel his arms being carefully thrust into the haori sleeves, the motion so quick and seamless that he hasn’t the time to order the man to stop.

Something snaps inside of Keiki, a feeling like a dry twig crackling as it is wrenched from the bough, and he finds himself digging his finger through the hole of one of his throwing knives, hidden in an inner pocket within his kimono.

Snatching it out, he brandishes it while he backs away from the man, his voice rising in angry defiance the narrower his eyes become.

“I said go back!”

The man takes one step back into the shadows, and even though Keiki can barely make out his form, he knows for a fact that the ninja is standing defensively, ready to knock away his master’s throwing knife, should Keiki lose his cool.

He may be an expert knife thrower, but there was no sense in paying for ninja who were on the same skill level as himself.

“Master Yoshi,” the ninja begins, and Keiki is already annoyed at his soothing, almost babying tone, “I was watching her the whole time.”

Keiki didn’t need his ninja to tell him that– it was what he paid the man for. Keep his distance and observe.

But when Keiki had happened upon her at the market, he had happily broken into a jog to catch up with her. Before he could reach her, he saw the fish monger’s assistant press a kiss to the back of her hand after a purchase.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the minute she turned around, he had thrown himself sideways into an alley, not knowing exactly why he felt the need to hide, but also not wanting to be caught barging in on something like that either.

‘Burn it,’ Keiki thought, on a derisive chuckle, ‘buy his stall and burn it down.’

He could saunter over and flaunt his wealth. Put the peasant in his place.

But she’d hate him if he did that.

And he’d hate himself for falling so low.

“Lord Tokugawa!” came the same voice from the shadows, “I’ve been saying, what will you have me do?”

Keiki had almost forgotten that his ninja was still before him, awaiting orders, and that he, himself, had his own back pressed against the wall like some sort of conspirator.

Peeking around the corner, he spotted his girlfriend with her basket of sea bream as she made her way back to Shiki.

Stepping from the alley into the light, Keiki made sure to catch the assistant’s eye with a withering glare, before grandly flicking his haori behind him, and setting off toward the restaurant.

“I can handle it myself.”

***

Kirisato: She has been grinding her teeth, watching you chit-chat with Keiki as he offers to pour you another drink. She knows you’re just being friendly, but she can see what’s flickering in Keiki’s eyes, and she doesn’t like it.

Skillful as ever, she keeps the conversation up, despite her misgivings. With each graceful downward tilt of her head, a picture of demure femininity, her eyes dart to where Keiki’s hand has been steadily inching its way toward yours.

Kirisato fights the urge to grasp at the short sword tucked within the silken folds of her kimono.

‘I wouldn’t, if I were you,’ she let the words slip down her throat as she swallows, changing the topic once more, lest she say it out loud.

Right now, Kirisato didn’t think she would be able to keep Haru’s voice from coming out of “Kirisato’s” visage– and if Keiki found out their secret, there was only one possible solution.

When you stretch forward to pick up a sugar-dusted sweet from a tray just out of your reach, Keiki is quick to lean forward, offering to bring it closer to you. The two of you bump into each other and, to Kirisato’s horror, your pretty pout lands smack dab on Keiki’s parted mouth, his words trailing off into an awkward mumble.

Kirisato quickly laughs it off, right along with the two of you, blaming the sake, even though she knows that it takes much more than what he’s had to make Keiki tipsy.

She picks up the tray and sets it down between the two of you with a thud, the sweets clattering against the shiny lacquered dish, her pale eyes firmly fixed on Keiki the whole time.

Snatching her gaze off of the startled shogun, she straightens her back and turns to you.

“Please. Have some more,” she says, with all the cheerful good humor of a host in full form.

However, something about the atmosphere is palpably different, as if a cold wind has washed over the room, taking with it the last traces of self-control that she can summon.

It’s Haru’s sardonic smile now, on Kirisato’s cherry red lips, hitching higher by the second– a great crimson slash of a sneer.

She narrowed her eyes, staring Keiki down, bold as she pleased.

“Although I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

Okita: In the bright noon sun, two figures sat perched on a roof, toward the southern end of the Shinsengumi compound.

“Are you going to tell me why you had me bring you up here? You’re not exactly light,” Yamazaki slipped the band off of his ponytail, and shook out his hair in the afternoon breeze. His shadow fell over Okita, as he sat, hunched and moody, his face turned away.

“Can you at least tell me why you’re furiously petting a rabbit!?”

“I need it!” Okita sulked, knuckling Mochi’s back in large circles. He sat draped over his pet, his brow wrinkling with aggravation. 

Every so often, Okita would mutter under his breath, but Yamazaki could hardly make anything sensible out of the snatches of words he could decipher.

“A rabbit?”

“Shut up! It’s comforting!”

“You ‘needed’ me to drag your rabbit-toting behind…up onto this roof?” Yamazaki didn’t bother with a dry, exasperated tone this time– his side-long glance raking over Okita was enough.

“Fine. Why are we–”

“It’s all Saito’s fault!” Okita wailed, the palm of his hand flying over Mochi’s cinnamon brown fur, picking up speed with each pass.

“I finally challenged him to a match! Winner gets a kiss from my girlfriend, right?”

“Why would you–”

“Because I never lose!” Okita cried, whipping around. 

Mochi’s head shot up, and he leveled an accusatory look at his human, who had dared to stop petting him.

 “And I didn’t lose!” Okita continued, “But when she closed her eyes to give me my kiss,” those words he said with special relish, “that mooning bastard, Saito, swooped in and took a peck for himself.”

“Ah. I can see why you’d be mad with him,” Yamazaki nodded sympathetically, crouching down to stroke along the bridge of Mochi’s nose. “You’ll pat that rabbit bald, you know,” he added.

“That’s not it!” Okita shouted, slapping Yamazaki’s hand away.

“Well?” said Yamazaki, gathering his hair into a ponytail again, to prepare for his decent off the roof. 

He had enough of rooftops when he was on duty– he didn’t want to be up on one on his precious day off, too.

“It was the perfect prank– and he thought of it first!”

Todo: The sound of Todo’s fist hitting the wall was as hollow as he felt, and he let himself droop down until he was crouching.

He could see something wet drip onto the tatami, and while he reasoned that he couldn’t be sweating on so chilly an evening, his head was in such a fog that he hadn’t realized he was crying until an errant tear slid down the curve of his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, and he could not only feel the biting sadness rattling within him, he could taste it.

‘No,’ he shook his head, leaning forward to press his brow into the cool wall of the upstairs room. The sherbet hues of the setting sun danced across the floor, and he could feel the dying light of twilight upon his back as he rocked himself gently and subtly, in an unconscious attempt at comfort.

‘Why?’

Todo had come into Shiki through the kitchen’s entrance, around the back, and as he turned the corner to step into the restaurant’s dining room, he could hear Kyo’s voice.

“Senpai…” a hot, desperate whisper before his twin’s lips pressed against yours, as you paused from wiping down a table, to look over at him.

He had known of his brother’s unrequited love for you, but right now, Todo was truly regretting throwing the words “what is Kyo’s, is mine” at him.

He could tell from your shocked look, as you wrenched backward, that it was the last thing you were expecting, but even he had never considered that Kyo would ever reach the point of underhanded desperation.

Todo could hardly accuse his twin of being manipulative, when here he was crying on the floor, after not only stopping time, but using his gift to go back and see the same scene play out again and again.

‘Just one more time,’ he had told himself, rewinding time “one” more time, to make sure it really was an accident.

He wasn’t sure how many times he had done it, but he knew he couldn’t stand to look at it again, and so he had run upstairs to a spare room in the back, leaving you and Kyo frozen in your “before” positions, trapped in static oblivion, time going ahead at its usual pace without either one of you being aware.

Even if he went back and changed it, made it so that it “never” happened, Todo would know that, at one point, it had. And he would be the only one to know it, which would eat away at him, like seeing so many other events had.

He could change time as much as he liked, rewriting events across the continuum to suit his own needs, but whether it was before his time or not, it required him to witness them. Witness and know. Witness and remember.

Straightening slightly, he sat back on his haunches, watching as the last orange and purple rays of the setting sun etched their way across the backs of his hands, calloused and work-roughened, as he pressed them against the tatami, slowly shuffling himself into a standing position.

With a tick of his jaw, he drew his kimono sleeve across his face with quick movements, dabbing hurriedly at the wetness around his eyes.

Just as the ochre beams of sunset shifted into the deep shadows of the evening, his body faded away, dispersing bit by bit into the night, until he found himself no longer in an upstairs room, but outside the kitchen entrance, with his hand upon the door handle, the golden afternoon sun beating down upon his back.

“Senpai…” Todo could hear Kyo’s voice, and he knew what he would see once he came around the corner.

He kept his pace regular, even as part of his mind screamed to hurry up and run. Hurry up and stop his twin brother. Hurry up and pull his girlfriend to him with one hand and shove Kyo back with the other.

Todo entered the dining room soundlessly, leaning his weight against the door frame, needing its support to keep from crying again. His brows knit as he watches his twin sneak in a kiss, sees you pull away automatically, dropping the rag you were holding, and he forces himself to remain rooted to the spot.

As for you, you’re too shaken to be indignant, too confused to utter a sound, but still you run to the safety of Todo’s arms.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re aware that he had his arms spread open in welcome as if he already knew you would do just that. You don’t question it right then, as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder, grasping a fistful of his haori.

You can hear Kyo sputtering apologies over your shoulder.

You stiffen suddenly, the realization that they’re not only both armed, but that they’ve clashed for far less, chilling you as you try to push yourself away from Todo enough to look him in the eye, meaning to ask them not to come to blows.

“Heisuke–” you start, but Todo only pulls you back in.

With one hand firmly tucking you against his body, the other slides soothingly up and down the silken trail of your hair.

It almost feels as if he is telling you, subtly, not to worry about him reaching for his sword, both his hands being full.

Fabulous fic friends, where you at?: @rizosrojizos, @jemchew 

[if-i-want-to-dance]

His Pawn to Play

Chapter 19

Hana pushed open the door to the third library. It was empty, except for Shiki. He sat on a couch, ripping a brush through Roen's fur, tearing out sections of it. Roen howled in pain. "Shiki!" shouted Hana. She dashed across the room and wrenched Roen away from Shiki, pulling the puppy against her chest. "Stop that! You're hurting him!" She took several steps back. "What were you thinking?" Shiki glared at her. "Oh, it's you." He stayed where he was. "Yes, it's me. Why would you treat Roen like that?" She carried the dog to Rem's desk and set him down on the floor. "It's okay, Roen. He's not going to hurt you anymore..." Roen ran away behind a curtain. Hana stomped across to Shiki. He glared at her sullenly. "You don't treat animals like that, Shiki. You don't needlessly torment a creature that can't fight back." She crossed her arms across her chest. "It's sick. You’re sick.” "What are you, my mother? Why shouldn't I?" "Because that's cruel." "What do you care?" "Because it makes me sick to see or think about it, that's why! And if I ever catch you at it again, I'll make you regret it until the end of your days." Shiki shrugged and stood up. "Whatever, leave me alone." A roar filled Hana's ears. She slapped him across the face. "Hey, listen to me!" Shiki grabbed her, shoving her forward, pushing her face into the couch cushions. Hana screamed into the cushion. Shiki's full body weight pressed on top of her. "You could suffocate like this and no one would hear you. Isn't that a thrilling thought? Just gasping, struggling to live even after you know you're not going to escape?" Hana gasped for air, but Shiki's hands kept her head pressed down. Her heart raced. Shiki was insane. She had to get away from him. She threw her full body weight back. It didn't knock Shiki off, but his grip loosened. She attacked him with her hands, sliding them up to a sensitive area of the arm and pinching it hard. At the same time, she threw her full body weight back again. Shiki slid off her, hitting the floor hard. Hana straightened up more slowly, her vision spinning. She gasped for air and made a break for the door. The door was locked. Shiki sighed and stood up. "Well, that was fun while it lasted." Hana yanked on the door handle, but it wouldn't move. He crossed the room to Rem's desk and started going through the drawers. "Where does he keep it? I know he must have some somewhere..." Hana ran to one of the window alcoves and yanked the window open. A few stories drop... but still better than being there with that pyscho. She might be able to climb down the first little way, down window sills or something. Shiki's hand caught her hair, twisting in it and pulling her away from the window. Hana screamed aloud. Shiki's hand covered her mouth, forcing what felt like a ball of fabric into it. "You're starting to really annoy me, you brat." He tied a piece of cloth across it. "There, now we won't have any unexpected visitors." Hana shrieked into the gag. What was he doing? Shiki put a hand on her throat and squeezed slightly. "You aren't going anywhere." Hana froze. He grinned the most insane smile she'd ever seen. He grabbed her arms and pushed her up against the wall. Hana tried to turn her head to see what he was doing. He fished a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and snapped them onto her wrists. Hana gasped and tried to pull away. What kind of psychopath was this guy? "Yes, struggle all you want. You won't get away." Shiki's voice was right in her ear. "Not from me." Hana pulled hard, aiming kicks at his legs. He laughed. "You're so pitiful like this." The metal of the handcuffs cut into her wrists. Shiki grabbed her collar, pulling her away from the wall and shoving her onto the floor, pinning her with his body weight. Hana twisted to see what he was doing. Shiki produced a ball of string and tied her ankles together. "There." Her heart sunk. Shiki climbed off of her. "I suppose you're wondering what I'm going to do. I'm not really sure yet. Rem told me to leave you alone but... imagine if he were to find me so directly disobeying him. Imagine what he'd do." Hana shook. "One last thing." Shiki climbed back on top of her and removed his tie. He moved to blindfold her. Hana rolled hard. The sudden movement nearly caused him to fall off. He grinned and regained his position on top of her. He blocked her vision  with his tie. Shiki sat up. His weight left her. He picked her up and laid her over his shoulder. "I know. I'll take you somewhere. It's not far." He put up a hand to steady her and started walking. "I think you're going to enjoy this. Well, even if you don't, I will." Hana's heart raced. Where were the others? But if he was going to take her out of the student council room, wouldn't someone see them? The soft thuds of Shiki's footsteps changed to an echoing noise. Where were they? Shiki set her down on a cold, smooth floor. "What must you be thinking right now? Hoping Rem will come to find you?" He chuckled. "No. No, I think you should wait to see what's going to happen. That would be best. The anticipation of something awful... now that's a thrill." Her heart pounded. Her lungs gasped for air, but her mouth was full of cloth. The last thing Hana was aware of was the cold floor pressing against her face.

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Out of Office Drama: Flowers - Goto and Miho

It was strange.

Even though Jazz had only been at Miho’s a couple of nights, not having Goto in her bed, or not being in his bed, felt wrong.

And this made Miho happy. Not that she enjoyed the wrong feeling, but that Goto was there, in her thoughts and emotions, even when he wasn’t.

After sending Rose off on her mission to Shiki Publishing – about which Miho smirked – she headed out of the building to meet with her next client during his lunch break. He was the kind of man she didn’t think needed any help attracting women, but at the same time she knew full well that often it was those types exactly, who had difficulty finding the one.

So many women looking to marry into an easy life, easy money.

He was charming, good looking and courteous, and even after just one meeting, Miho already had a list of women he thought would match.

Returning to the office, she smiled at MJS’s relative new receptionist Izumi Takasaki, and he looked up and smiled.

“Flowers arrived for you, Miss Fujiwara,” he grinned. “I put them in your office, I hope that’s okay.”

“You know, somehow I feel like your mother when you call me Miss Fujiwara,” she huffed sitting herself on the edge of his desk, and he looked a little bit stricken.

“No no! I don’t mean… you’re not old enough to be my mother by a long shot,” he rushed.

“Right, so call me Miho, ugh Miho-san if you absolutely must,” Miho grumbled, but it was clear she wasn’t even close to being mad.

When Selina decided to take some vacation leave it had been someone Jazz knew they brought in to fill the administrative gap. Though hardly his dream job, his mind set on being a vet, Izumi was able to pull enough hours with MJS to keep himself alive, and still leave time enough o study.

And, of course, he was such a little puppy, he was simply fun to tease.

“Who’re the flowers from?” Miho questioned, though her thoughts had gone straight to Goto… of course.

The fact was, however, they did on occasion receive gifts from clients, even though it was procedure to tell them they wouldn’t be accepted.

“Card was sealed so, it could be any of your… um...” Izumi began, then thought better of finishing his sentence the way it had played out in his head. “Eh, but given you’re not doing dating simulations anymore, I think it’s a pretty safe bet to assume a certain, um, hunky fiancé is responsible?”

“He is hunky, isn’t he?” Miho giggled – yeah she giggled, like a friggin’ school girl. “Well I’m not going to complain,” she added, and wandered into her office to investigate.

The flowers were nothing short of spectacular, perhaps a couple of hundred dollars worth of beautiful blooms, and humming happily to herself like a lovesick moron, Miho plucked the envelope free and tore it open.

See you tonight.

 That’s all it said, but it was enough to put butterflies in her stomach. Flopping into her chair, Miho dug her phone from her bag and tapped out a message to Goto.

The flowers are gorgeous, thanks. Looking forward to some us time as well.

Jazz hadn’t stayed long, and thankfully she and Kuni had gotten their shit together quickly, but it not being a given she would have Goto beside her at some point every night, had been surprisingly taxing.

Allowing her good mood to carry her quickly through typing up her new client notes, Miho lost herself in the work zone until the shrill call of her ringing phone broke her free.

Seeing it was Goto made her feel stupidly giddy all over again.

“You’re clearly not working hard enough, Lieutenant, if you have time to make social calls,” she teased, but Goto’s reply was brisk.

“Miho, I didn’t send you flowers,” he stated flatly, and Miho’s stomach clenched.

“Oh,” she dropped. “The card wasn’t signed so, naturally I figured it was you.”

“Client?” he offered and though the word wasn’t cold, Miho felt guilty.

“Won’t lie, it happens from time to time, even though we tell clients not to,” she revealed.

“Card?” he prompted.

“Yeah,” she murmured – wanted to lie about what it said, but didn’t want to lie.

“Um… it said, see you tonight.”

Silence.

“I’ll pick you up from the office,” he declared. “I will be seeing you tonight.”

“Please try not to catastrophise,” she chided lightly.

“collecting my fiancée from work isn’t catastrophising,” he argued. “It’s prudent when she’s receiving flowers and promises from someone other than me.”

“You know I was an assassin in a past life, right?” she offered, but he remained serious.

“This is the only life I care about,” he growled. “Will you be ready by 7:30?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” she conceded, trying not to sigh. “But don’t complain later when I demonstrate my kungfu on you.”

“Kungfu all you like when we’re home,” he told her, his tone only now tempering toward affection. “And in the meantime…”

“I have no more appointments today,” she interrupted. “So I’ll be here at the office, so don’t stress.”

He didn’t deny he was stressing, but didn’t admit to it either.

“Send me a picture,” he said instead – an odd request.

Miho fell straight into the gutter.

“Mr. Goto!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with honey. “What kind of picture are you asking for exactly?”

Coughing noises answered, and Miho laughed, the image of his flushed face filling her mind’s eye.

“The flowers,” he said eventually, and she imagined him looking at the ground bashfully.

“God you’re cute,” she chuckled. “You want to run forensics on the flowers do you?”

“Just do it, Miho,” he grumbled. “I’ll see you at 7:30.”

It wasn’t often he flat out told her to do something, but she was too amused to notice, and with an I love you she hung up and sent him the picture he was after.

He replied with a simple thanks, leaving Miho to get on with her work – but now she knew the flowers weren’t from Goto, and that he was bothered by her having them, there was no help for it but to throw them out.

Izumi looked surprised when Miho appeared with the huge arrangement in her arms.

“Um… Miho? Do you need me to help you with that?”

“Nope, I got this. Just taking it out to the dumpster,” Miho clarified, awkwardly making her way toward the back of their ground floor rooms, unlocking the door, and stepping out into the alley where their dumpster was located. “What a waste,” she sighed, wondering if maybe she could get away with salvaging the lovely vase the flowers came in, or whether that would still irritate Goto.

“A waste,” came a voice suddenly behind her, and startled, Miho reflexively dropped the flowers.

The ceramic vase smashed against the wet asphalt, red roses scattering around Miho’s feet, and her guards came up.

He was as tall as her, a he by his build and voice -  but his face and his hair was obscured by a balaclava, and his dark clothing covered most of his skin.

“You didn’t like them?” he asked, taking one step closer to her, a testing step, and Miho’s reaction was to move diagonally around the edge of the dumpster toward MJS’s back door.

“They’re from you?” she questioned, her voice not shaking, but breathy.

In response, the masked man inclined his head. She could see his eyes, dark eyes, Japanese eyes, and they were studying her closely, coolly.

“Well… thank you but, I have a fiancé,” she forced out, shuffling again and reaching with one hand for the door handle.

“Wait,” he snapped, and though Miho wanted nothing more than inside she froze.

“Don’t,” Miho hissed, gritting her teeth, lips peeled back and her fingers flexing in and out of fists. “Leave, and don’t come back,” she blurted, and then made her move.

Reach.

Grab.

Turn.

Fling.

Rush.

Slam.

Lock.

By the time her back pressed against the inside of the door, she was panting.

The ambiguous message with the flowers hadn’t thrown her, not even finding out Goto hadn’t sent them had caused her much concern – but a man in a disguise creeping up on her in an alley outside her place of work?

Yeah that got her.

“Holy shit,” she shuddered out, not quite sure what to do with herself.

“Hey Miho,” Rose greeted, coming down the hallway. “I’m going to make tea, do you want some?”

But Miho just kind of stared like she hadn’t heard her, hadn’t seen her, and this caused Rose to pause and make a more serious study of the other woman’s face.

“Miho?” she prompted, drawing closer, and only then did Miho’s eyes narrow and seem to focus.

“Ahh, Rose,” she exhaled, shaking her head. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Your hands are shaking,” Rose observed, scowling. “What’s wrong?”

Miho bit her lip, fiercely, and it remained that way for some time until she managed to answer in a low and quiet voice.

“There was a man, in the alley,” she explained. “Balaclava, I was…”

“Did he hurt you?” Rose hissed, snatching Miho’s right hand and giving it a squeeze.

“No,” Miho assured, dragging in a deep breath and straightening. “Just surprised me.”

“Izumi!” Rose barked, and Miho cringed.

Like he’d fallen out of his chair in fright, Izumi appeared with a startled look on his face.

“Call the cops,” Rose instructed. “Miho was just approached by creeper.”

“What? Here?” Izumi blinked. “Miss Fujiwara, did he…”

“No, no I’m okay,” Miho muttered, shaking her head again. “Go ahead and call the police,” she then continued, but as she clawed out of the moments of threat outside, she knew what calling the police would also mean. “Rose…”

But she didn’t get to finish.

“I’ll make some tea,” the other woman asserted with a definitive nod.

Regaining her faculties, Miho went back to her office and picked up her mobile phone.

“Oh this is going to hurt,” she murmured, then dialled Goto.

He didn’t answer, which was perhaps a small blessing, and so Miho left a voice message.

“You know, this is a real pain in the ass,” she began with another sigh, “but… there was a guy, the one who sent the flowers, in the alley out the back of our building. He didn’t touch me, and I’ve already called MPD, so there’s no need to rush over here – I’m fine, just… you know…”

There she floundered a little.

Truthfully, logically, this guy hadn’t harmed her in any physical way, though the balaclava said loud and clear he didn’t want his identity known and that was the biggest red flag of them all. Still, the what ifs and the could haves played on her mind, made her shift uneasily in her chair and really wish Goto was there.

“Unless MPD need me to go somewhere,” she continued finally. “I’ll be staying here, indoors, until 7:30 so don’t feel like you need to come early…”

It was difficult for her to admit weakness – she was just an in-charge kind of person.

“… but, I am looking forward to seeing you.”

Hanging up was surprisingly difficult considering he wasn’t actually listening to her talk in real time.

“Miss Fujiwara,” Izumi said quietly from the doorway, and Miho’s head snapped up.

“Miho,” she corrected, forcing a smile to her lips.

“MPD is sending someone over now,” he informed her, his young face so stiff and serious. “I’m going to take a look outside, make sure he’s not still hanging around.”

“No,” Miho countered, leaning back in her chair just as Rose brushed passed Izumi, a steaming cup in her hand. “Who knows what ideas this person has. You don’t need to be provoking him.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t kick his ass into next week,” Rose snorted, putting the tea on Miho’s desk.

“Yeah well, he caught me off guard,” Miho grumbled, blushing a little. “And he didn’t try to grab me or anything so an ass kicking might have been premature.”

At this, Rose sniffed.

“And I’m fine, thank you both,” Miho added. “Izumi just let me know when the police arrive. I’m going to text Jazz and H so they know to be careful.”

 They left Miho alone until the police arrived, though Miho knew both Izumi and Rose weren’t far away – not hovering, but on edge and ready to run in should she call. It was sweet, especially since she hadn’t known them that long – but that was how MJS was.

Family.

The police came and went, taking her statement, checking the premises and making a few security suggestions here and there, before moving to the Tax Accountant and Dentist offices that also shared the building.

Miho returned to Mr. Tachibana’s profile, tapping away on her keyboard intermittently, but her mind kept returning to something that now seemed to bother her more than anything else.

Familiarity.

There was no placing it, but something about her mysterious fan was not so foreign to her. The most obvious answer was he had been a client, which is what she had suggested to the police, but she had frustrated even them when she refused to give them a list of said clients.

Even the ones they had decided against taking on were protected by the same confidentiality clause as existing and past clients, so it made for a difficult situation.

“I should call Takao,” she told herself, reaching for her phone until…

“Is she in her office?” Goto questioned, but his voice got louder as the short sentence progressed, telling her he was moving at speed and not waiting for an answer.

“It’s not even seven yet,” she huffed, getting to her feet.

Covering up how much of a relief it was.

“I didn’t run any red lights,” he scowled, taking her face between his hands and looking her up and down. “And I happened to finish my paperwork early.”

Those eyes of his were a ferocious squall of protectiveness and tightly wound rage; normally so calm, often seen as impassive, anger for him was a battle, one he fought for her in that moment.

“I’d say don’t fuss, but you’re going to no matter what I do,” she chuckled, leaning in to kiss him lightly before laying her head on his shoulder.

“I’m just going to have to convince Ishigami to assign me as your bodyguard,” he sighed into her hair, arms folded around her, muscles tensed against her back.

“All he did was talk,” Miho said, muffled against his jacket.

“Gifts, suggestive messages and a personal visit isn’t nothing, Miho,” he responded sternly.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t nothing,” she grumbled. “I’ll be careful.”

“I know you’re not not careful,” he stated, pulling her away a little so he could look into her face. “And I know how hard it must be for people to not fall in love with you.”

“For the ones that don’t know me very well anyway,” she snickered, and finally she got a smile.

“You ready to head home?” he asked, and Miho separated from him to grab her bag and laptop.

“Yeah.”

“My place,” he determined, his hand in the small of her back as she passed through the door.

“Jazz and Mr. Aikawa made up you know, so my apartment is good to go again,” she informed him.

“Hm, you downgraded him to Mr. Aikawa?” Goto noted, nodding a serious thankyou nod to Izumi

“He’s going to have to earn back friendly privileges by treating Jazz with a whole lot more respect, consistently,” she sniffed, obviously still irritated by some or all of Jazz and Kuni’s whole situation.

“Hope you never get that mad at me,” Goto frowned, and Miho nudged his shoulder with her head.

“No promises,” she grinned, then latched onto his arm, while looking at Izumi. “Make sure Rose doesn’t take a train home,” she instructed. “Cabs on the expense account, you too.”

“No worries, Miss Fujiw…” he began, but stopped when Miho sent him a warning look.

Being as new as he was, he put up with a lot from the girls and did so without much backlash – this time, however, a somewhat impish smile tweaked his lips.

“Mrs. Goto?”

And Goto stumbled just a little bit, Miho with him – but he was definitely the one to blush.

“I like the sound of that,” she smirked, then childishly poked her tongue out at Izumi before she urged Goto to head outside.

 Typically, Goto’s place was a mess, though it seemed he had been trying to be more tidy since she began visiting on a regular basis.

“Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly when she was forced to step around several stacks of folders and papers on the floor next to the coffee table.

“So you finished your paperwork at work early, because most of it’s here,” she snickered, grabbing a hoodie and a stray sock from the back of the couch and beginning a collection of laundry.

“Hardly,” he groused, but he didn’t sound all that burdened, in fact, he hadn’t really gone that far into the apartment.

He stood, just watching Miho wandering around, getting busy with ‘wife stuff’.

“Seriously Goto Seiji,” Miho said out of nowhere, stopping and looking at him sharply, “if you make some comment about wife stuff, you’re sleeping on the couch, if you can find any space.”

“The narrator would never depict me as being so misogynistic,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “And I don’t think I am – I just… like having you here.”

“Now you’re trying to seduce me?” she questioned pointedly, dropping the bundle of clothes and planting her hands on her hips.

“Umm, I wasn’t,” he said slowly, his brows twitching as he gauged her mood, “but it might be a nice side product… if it’s working.”

“Like you even need to try,” she smirked, blowing him a kiss, but his step toward her faltered when her next move was not toward him, but to gather up the clothes again. “But I guess you should have done your laundry first,” she called out in a teasing voice from the bathroom.

After cleaning and tidying was complete, Goto and Miho ate a simple dinner an then turned in for the night.

Despite their earlier talk, beneath the blankets their bodies lay mostly still – entwined, but simply enjoying being close to one another.

“Tomorrow I’ll see what I can do about a couple of days off,” Goto said, breaking the comfortable silence, idly curling a strand of Miho’s hair around his finger. “I’d like you to meet my parents… and my brother I guess.”

“He’s pretty young hmm? Considering you’re an old man and all,” she goaded, but he returned fire with ease.

“I suppose that makes you ancient then?”

“Oh ho, I’ll have you know I look relatively young for my age,” she sniffed, poking against his chest until he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Think that’ll fix everything huh? Smooth bastard.”

“Is it working?” he grinned, before kissing the flat of her palm.

“I’m going to work you,” she growled, rolling on top of him and sitting up, straddling him and triumphantly staring down.

“And I am not going to argue,” he smiled.

 MPD were unable to catch Miho’s disguised visitor on any nearby cctv, despite there being a number of cameras in the area. The flowers had been delivered by the florist, and the courier was confirmed as being elsewhere at the time of Miho’s encounter in the alley.

Ultimately, the office was a bit tense, and Jazz and Miho had to go over the expenses to increase security in the building, and a proposal to get the other two businesses to pay their share.

Though the other girls met their clients out of the office, Izumi called Miho’s appointments and arranged times they could come to her, much to her irritation, and Goto’s satisfaction. Jazz ‘escorted her’ to the café and the store when required during the day, even though Miho muttered about her having much better things to do. When she became too much of a handful, H and Rose stepped in.

She didn’t put up that much of a fight, though it was clear in her sullen expression she was not enjoying ‘being taken care of’. It was sweet Goto wanted to protect her and wasn’t super overbearing about it, and, not that she needed it, there was proof of her friendships in the way they too went above and beyond to make sure there were no nasties lurking around corners or under her desk.

Yes, Jazz even checked under Miho’s desk.

Sadly, Goto was not there.

None of it seemed to impede her ability to work, and much to Rose’s chagrin, it didn’t stop Miho from giving her a professional reprimand about all the marks she finally noticed on Rose’s skin.

Everything else seemed all quiet – no more gifts, no more surprise appearances, and after a few days MPD told Miho there wasn’t anything more they could do without a potential suspect or clues that might lead them to one. She knew Goto was itching to get involved, or at least lean on someone else who could, but Miho warned him against caving in to that impulse. After all, it wasn’t like MJS didn’t have police connections and friends, clients, employees even – but MPD was right. It wasn’t their job to act like a bodyguard, no crime had been committed, and there was no hard evidence suggesting one might be.

So removing Miho from Tokyo for a while was Goto’s best option, and of course it served to kill two birds with one stone.

On the bullet train to his hometown, where his parents and brother still lived, he stuck to her like glue. When Miho pointed out how people were looking at them, how sick in love they must have looked because of the way he always had at least one hand on her, his reaction was as one might predict.

“I don’t care,” he asserted flatly, his tone contrasting the shade of his cheeks. “If someone snatched you out from under my nose, I’d never forgive myself.”

“As if you wouldn’t notice,” she grinned, their arms looped as they sat next to each other, Miho on the window side. “I’d be screaming so loud they’d hear me back in Tokyo.”

“You do have quite the set of lungs,” he noted with a cheeky nod.

“Like that is it?” she sniffed, slithering her hand into his lap and stroking downward slowly.

“Wah… what are you doing!” he exclaimed in an urgent hiss, snatching her wrist.

“Now who’s being loud?” she grinned broadly, reaching for him with her other hand, which he also caught and held firmly.

“Really? Right here, on the train?” he muttered, hoping no one could see the blaring red beacon that was his flustered face.

“It’s not my fault I can’t keep my hands to myself,” she pouted, but didn’t struggle. “I need to make up for lost time.”

“I think we did plenty of that last night,” he pointed out, relaxing his hold.

“So you don’t want to join me in the lavatory?” she offered suggestively.

“Damnit Miho,” he muttered, and she laughed.

“Fiiiiine,” she sighed. “But if your parents hear us going at it, you’ll regret letting me get all pent up.”

For a second it looked like he was going to comment on that, and Miho could almost hear him ask, ‘when are you ever not pent up?’ He did, however, keep it to himself, because he had a fair idea how she’d have responded, and he wasn’t sure if he could survive her grinding in his lap on the train.

Even if he actually really wanted her to.

Poor Goto.

Miho tried to keep her teasing to a minimum for the rest of the trip, but it was a way to curb some of the nerves tying knots inside her. Forget creepy stalker dude, meeting the in-laws… and it wasn’t just meeting the in-laws, because that in and of itself should have been a breeze – it was explaining, without lying, the circumstances of their meeting, the development of their relationship and well, Miho’s occupation, even though she felt absolutely no shame.

We already knew that, huh?

Outside the station they caught a taxi.

“You’re fidgeting,” Miho noticed, putting a hand on Goto’s thigh, this time not because she wanted into his pants – well, not specifically anyway. “You know, if you’re nervous, I’m going to be nervous.”

“I know I shouldn’t be,” he told her, clearly embarrassed. “But I just… want them to love you like I do.”

“I might want to screw you sideways every chance I get, Seiji, but I can be loveable and totally daughter-in-law material.”

Goto glanced to see if the cab driver heard what Miho had said before responding.

“You don’t have to be anything other than yourself,” he told her gently, putting his hand over hers.”

“Daaw,” she grinned, dropping her head onto her shoulder. “Still, I do want them to like me.”

“They will,” he assured her, and his leg stopped twitching.        

There was no time to hesitate outside of the Goto residence. The moment the taxi came to a stop outside the house a beaming woman exited and all but bounced to greet them.

“Seiji it’s been too long!” she grinned, leaping up to throw her arms around Goto’s shoulders. “But under the circumstances…”

“You’re making a scene,” Goto grumbled bashfully, prying his mother free, only to find Miho smiling.

“Cute,” she commented, shouldering her handbag and watching the pair.

“What do I have to do to get you to stop calling me that?” he groaned, his shoulders slumping a little, but Miho looked unrepentant.

“Oh you two are both so cute,” Goto’s mother chirped, clutching her hands to her chest, peering between them.

“But rude, Mrs. Goto,” Miho put in, bowing to the woman. “I’m Fujiwara Miho, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh no don’t be silly!” Goto’s mother was quick to dispel any formality. “Call me Haruka, or…”

“Haruka will be fine for now,” Goto interjected, knowing perhaps it would take a little more for Miho to be ready to call her mother.

“Oh Seiji, she’s stunning,” Haruka gushed, taking Miho’s hand as Goto paid the taxi driver. “Where on Earth did you find someone so lovely?”

“I’ll have to ask the same thing of your husband, Haruka,” Miho chuckled. “I’d say you look far too young to have adult children, but I don’t want to just repeat Voltage verbatim.”

Haruka opened her mouth to comment, no doubt, upon the plot limitations of the Voltage franchise, when the growl of a motorbike drew close.

All eyes turned to the figure that approached, then came to a stop as the taxi pulled away. He was dressed in full motorcycle protective gear, his identity concealed, and for a moment, Miho tensed – but when he removed his helmet the resemblance to Goto was far too similar for the young man to be anything other than a relative.

“Issei!” Haruka exclaimed, latching onto his arm and just about dragging him from his bike. “Perfect timing. This is Fujiwara Miho, Seiji’s fiancée.”

Issei seemed to take his mother’s exuberance in his stride, but looked a little surprised at the news. Apparently Goto hadn’t gotten around to personally telling his brother.

“That’s why you wanted me to come home this weekend?” he frowned a little.

“I see good looks run strong in this family,” Miho mused, and that actually drew Issei’s attention to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He blinked as she bowed, but managed to smooth away some of the irritation in his face when she rose and smiled at him.

“I didn’t realise my brother had such good taste,” he noted – meant both as a compliment to her and a swipe at Goto. “You’re here for the weekend?”

“If you’ll have me,” Miho nodded.

“So polite,” Haruka sighed. “Come on, your father is inside waiting. Issei, help Seiji with their bags.”

With Haruka clinging to her arm, Miho was guided to the Goto family home, and introduced to Goto’s father – grief they’re all Goto’s so I’m going to have to use their first names now sheesh.

Over tea, Miho and Seiji laid out the story of their eventual engagement.

“You didn’t tell me you were enlisting help to find a wife,” Haruka chided. “Oh my, I have a list as long as my arm – but then again, of course you’d not have met Miho if I’d done that so I suppose it’s well enough.”

“I’m glad I didn’t,” Seiji declared.

He had been struggling throughout not to blush. Miho was plain and forward in her explanations, and while she didn’t mention the sexual nature of the date simulation – indicating there were simply some things she couldn’t say for legal and privacy reasons – she was clear about her resistance to him until he’d pushed and pushed for her to let go of her baggage and accept her true feelings.

“Why him?” Issei asked.

He’d sat, a little sullen, though it didn’t seem to fitting for a young man to do so, and said nothing until that point. Miho knew he and Seiji weren’t close, and so she was not entirely caught off guard by the question.

“Dedication, kindness, skill, persistence, intelligence, professionalism, drive… I could go on,” she replied, casting a sideways glance at Seiji beside her, and this time he could not hold the heat back from his face. “I wasn’t looking for love, still carrying around the burden of the one I’d lost, but there he was, knowing it well before I did, that he and I just… work.”

“There are much better men around than him,” Issei shrugged, and Seiji scowled.

“Don’t even,” he warned. “Especially since I’ve asked Subaru to be best man.”

It hadn’t occurred to Miho that Seiji hadn’t asked his brother to fill that role, but thought considering they didn’t really get along that well, it wasn’t especially surprising. What she did note, was how Issei’s expression changed when Subaru was mentioned.

“Actually we’re going to need at least one more groomsman, since there are two bridesmaids,” Miho put in, studying Issei the way she did her clients. “Selina will need a partner.”

“Subaru will be there?” Issei queried, but that had already been answered – when he sought in the asking was reassurance it was true.

“Am I missing something here?” Miho questioned, looking between Issei and Seiji, then to Haruka.

“Oh Subaru is simply wonderful,” the latter clarified cheerily. “He and I can talk for hours.”

Seiji’s father, Shinichi, just sighed a small sigh. He hadn’t said much, but his expression was very much like Seiji’s resting face – it looked severe, but beneath it Miho thought the same gentleness was present.

“I see,” Miho chuckled, looking to Seiji again, this time with a teasing, knowing smirk. “Subaru is a family favourite? Perhaps I have made a terrible mistake.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, and thought she’d meant her poking as a joke, Miho regretted that he actually looked a little hurt.

And he wasn’t the only one who looked alarmed.

“Relax,” she grinned, patting his leg. “It seems Subaru is already spoken for anyway.”

Her eyes flickered to Issei, who looked relieved.

And when he caught her gaze, he smothered that expression with a frown.

“Well Subaru has a Harvard education anyway,” he declared, proud it seemed of Subaru’s achievements as if they were his own. “It’s not like someone like him would be interested in…”

“Issei, don’t finish that sentence,” Seiji cautioned seriously, and the air in the room suddenly chilled as brothers faced off.

Miho might have been offended, she could plainly see where Issei’s statement had been going, but she was much more interested in why the young man was so defensive about Subaru.

“What is it exactly you and he talk about, Haruka?” Miho asked pleasantly.

“Oh he’s good at so many things,” she replied cheerfully. “Cooking mostly, though, he is wonderful in the kitchen.”

Must not… must not smirk… must not smirk.

“Oh?” Miho verbalised instead. “I must admit, while I can follow a recipe, I’m not especially creative with my food.”

“Oh, perhaps you can help me with lunch?” Haruka offered, getting to her feet, and Miho joined her.

“I would love to.”

 While the men of the Goto household did whatever it was the men of the Goto household did when they weren’t glaring at each other… or maybe that’s what they were doing the whole time… Miho enjoyed Haruka’s merry personality. She was so welcoming, perhaps because she had two sons, no daughters, Miho felt completely welcomed and very much already like a member of the family.

At the same time, however, it reminded her of a time when she had been that close to her own mother: the family who eventually decided her crusade for justice following the death of her husband was more trouble than it was worth.

The family who thought she took it too far.

The family who…

“Miho?” Haruka queried, looking up into Miho’s face with concern.

“Oh, sorry,” she laughed, trying to shake off the sads. “It’s just, being here, received so warmly like this, reminds me how far from my own family I am. Will always be.”

“Is it really that hopeless?” Haruka asked. “Whatever you did, or, whatever they did, there’s no way to fix that damage?”

Sighing, Miho smiled, but she could see in Haruka’s eyes the other woman knew it was just a bandaid.

“Too much water,” Miho concluded with the shake of her head, and before she knew it, Haruka had thrown her arms around her and was squeezing her far more tightly than a woman of her small stature should have been able to.

“You don’t have to call me Mum,” Haruka sniffled into Miho’s shoulder. “But, I’ll be your mum anyway!”

With a shaky exhale, Miho closed her eyes against the sting.

And when she opened them again, Seiji was leaning against the kitchen door jamb watching, smiling placidly.

“You’re safe with Seiji,” Haruka told Miho, unaware of her son’s gaze.

“I know,” Miho smiled, blinking away a few tears and hugging Haruka back.

It was Shinichi who cleared his throat and broke the moment.

“Issei is about to chew through the furniture,” he stated flatly. “Heh, the metabolism of young men.”

“Sorry,” Miho laughed, and lunch was served.

 Miho had family – MJS – but being in the Goto family home, actually feeling a part of it, was so nostalgic that Miho continued to wander in and out of enjoyment and loss. Practiced, however, she maintained a mask now that perhaps only Seiji could see through, but in the presence of everyone else he made no enquires.

Later that evening, on the way to prepare for bed, Miho passed by the open door of Issei’s old room. The light was on, but Seiji’s brother wasn’t there. She nearly continued on her way, when something of interest caught her eye and caused her to pause.

There on the nightstand was a framed photograph signed Work Hard ~ Subaru, the man himself making a determined face, truly cutting a heroic image. Miho smiled.

Seiji was every bit what Subaru was, in Miho’s eyes more, and though she knew the brothers had never truly bonded as many brothers do, it did seem a little strange Issei had formed such a tight connection with someone so alike.

Or not strange at all.

“Hey,” came a voice behind her, and Miho actually started.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologised, stepping out of the way. “I just noticed that picture of Subaru as I was walking by; you really look up to him hmm?”

“What’s not to like?” Issei scowled oversensitively, and his following expression told Miho he knew his tone was telling.

“No, I completely agree,” she smiled, nodding. “Well educated, incredibly smart, exceptionally… handsome. You’ve got good taste.”

Issei’s eyes widened, and though the brothers did not get along, it seemed they shared blushing in common.

“Good night Issei, sweet dreams,” Miho offered with a wink, then shuffled down the corridor to Seiji’s room.

And as she entered the dim room where a futon of all things had been laid out in the centre of the room, arms closed around her from behind.

“Wah!” she exclaimed, her reflex to struggle, despite what was the unlikely event of someone other than Seiji being in there.

“Hey, hey,” he quickly soothed, swift words into her ear that stilled her body, but not the racing of her heart. “I’m sorry, I… I shouldn’t have… I didn’t even think.”

“No,” she breathed, but drooped her head back against him and took a few slow lungfuls of air before speaking again. “I’m way too jumpy.”

“Understandable,” he murmured, somehow closing the door over with his foot while maintaining his hold on her. “And I’m not helping.”

“You do, you are,” she reassured him. “Haruka is right; I’m safe with you… or maybe I’m not. You’re awfully bold grabbing hold of me like this in your parents’ house.”

“You think you’re the only one who pines?” he hissed against her neck before kissing it gently.

“Next time you think to chastise me for wanting to touch you, Seiji, I want you to remember this moment,” she smirked, turning slowly in his arms and wrapping herself around him.

There is no safer place.

 In slumber, however, it seemed Seiji wasn’t all powerful. Inside her sleeping mind, Miho drifted blissfully through the warmth of her welcome into the Goto household, her brush with Issei’s briskness aside – but her dreams didn’t stay there. They roamed beyond the boundary of happiness and slipped into a quagmire of unpleasant memories that caused her heart to ache. They weighed her down in a swamp, a marshy bog that threatened to swallow her – and no matter how loudly she screamed for Seiji to come to her rescue, there was only one figure on the shore.

Dark clothing.

Face masked.

Bouquet of red roses in one hand.

And this persisted until she somehow forced herself awake.

Night was still thick, and Seiji remained asleep beside her with just his arm draped over her.

For a few minutes she just laid here, trying to relax, but each time she closed her eyes uneasiness returned: until finally she couldn’t be still.

Careful not to wake Seiji, Miho shimmied from under the covers, wrapped herself in her long robe, and exited the bedroom. On silent, bare feet – she was an assassin in a past life remember (yeah wait for me to write THAT fic… it WILL happen) – she padded down the hall, past the closed door of Seiji’s parents’ room, and the slightly ajar door of his brother. Quietly she let herself out onto the back veranda, even though the shadow mottle yard held some apprehension.

“Stop being such a god damned pussy,” she reproached herself bitterly, closing the door behind her and sitting herself down in the pale moonlight. “What are you even afraid of?” she asked herself. “Some weirdo that sends you flowers this one time? Like that hasn’t happened before.”

There was that one time her panties kept going missing, and she’d blamed Jazz – not that Miho’s undies would even fit Jazz. Then there was that time with the guy that delivered their water-cooler bottles and strangely erotic sticky-notes all over the office.

“So what makes this so fucking terrifying?” she hissed, then just about jumped out of her skin when a blanket dropped around her shoulders. “Holy fu…!”

Launching from the veranda onto the grass, Miho flew from beneath the fabric and spun, feet planet just far enough apart for a solid stance, her brain ready to fight off her attacker – but Issei just stare at her in shock, until he frowned and pressed his lips together and looked unimpressed.

“You guys have a fight or something?” he asked flatly, but for him to have been close enough to wrap the blanket around her, he must have heard her utterances, at least some of them.

“Jesu…” Miho gasped, ordering her muscles to unclench, but they defied her and remained tense. “Issei… you scared the life out of me. Were you an assassin in a pa…”

“What are you so terrified of?” he questioned, his tone unchanged, and Miho shook her head, perhaps to dispel the panic, maybe to shake off how odd it was to be looking up at what she imaged was Seiji’s younger self.

“Being snuck up on, obviously,” she hissed, swallowing the lump in her throat and carefully adjusting her robe, shivering at a gust of wind that murmured a harsh song through nearby branches. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“Saw you sneak past,” he shrugged, picking up the fallen blanket and spreading it between his hands. “You’re going to get sick sitting out here in the cold.”

This was Miho’s lifeline, and she even managed to chortle.

“You’re more like your brother than you’d ever admit I think,” she said wryly, stepping back up onto the veranda and toward him, then stopped just shy of his reach. “And more different than you’d ever say aloud.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he grumbled, glowering, even as he fluttered the blanket around her shoulders and tucked snuggly to her front, careful not to be indecent.

“That you’ve an amazing, talented, highly skilled brother you could have worshiped,” she smiled. “But, it’s not like you could fall in love with him. Subaru is good man.”

Issei’s scowl deepened and he stepped back, but he didn’t storm away. He turned his back on her and glared at something invisible in the middle of the yard.

“I’m sorry,” Miho exhaled. “It’s not my place to make wild assumpti…”

“How did you even know?” he whispered, and unlike all the other times she’d heard him speak, in the very short time she’d known him, this time he sounded so very small.

“I may not have a Harvard degree,” Miho began quietly, gently – she was not the only fragile one in the world, “but it’s a large part of my job to read people, see the things they’re afraid to articulate because they fear being judged, because only in revealing those things to me can I properly find the person who is right for them.”

Again she sat herself down, clutching the blanket.

“I take it no one else knows?”

“Ha, like that’s so easy,” he snorted, pressing his balled fist to the nearest support post.

An admission, and as if suddenly realising as much, he spun around and stared daggers so sharp Miho was actually impressed.

“Don’t you dare say anything, especially not to Seiji,” he snarled, but Miho was now calm.

“It’s not my secret to tell,” she told him softly. “But I bet it’s hard, keeping it all to yourself – does no one know?”

“Just you,” he huffed. “Leave it to Seiji to ruin my life.”

“Really? Someone knowing a part of your true self is ruination?” she snorted. “Give it a rest kid, life gets much harder from here on out.”

“What the hell would you know about it?” he snapped, stepping closer again, but Miho simply couldn’t feel threatened.

Too much a Goto.

“Sure, I don’t know your specific struggle, but everyone has them,” she replied honestly. “And I happen to know from personal experience, that sharing those things with people you trust, can help alleviate some of the pressure.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” he volleyed, but even in the dun she could see much of the heat had fled from his eyes – eyes that told her of torture.

“I’m as good a person as any,” she shrugged.

Issei ground his teeth, and Miho simply sat and peered around the yard, until the young man flopped down beside her.

“You know Subaru,” he began, voice even smaller than before, fearful of his sentence’s continuation, but he pressed on. “I… I don’t have a chance in hell, do I?”

For a few seconds Miho thought about how best to tactfully respond.

“I do know Subaru,” she conceded. “And, unfortunately for you, all signs point to no, simply because he’s not wired that way.”

Hanging his head, Issei let out a long breath of painful resignation.

“I already knew it,” he murmured forlornly. “Have known it, forever, just… didn’t want to… I don’t want to…”

“Yeah, I know,” Miho responded gently.

“It’s not fair!” he growled, the exclamation cutting its way between his teeth. “How come…”

“… everyone else gets to be happy except me?” Miho finished for him, and the quick jerk of his face in her direction shook angry, hurt tears from his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been there too,” Miho smiled sadly. “When you love something so much, and it’s taken from you, it’s like the whole world is mocking you with smiles, patronising you with false words of comfort, rubbing salt into the wound with everything will get better, when everything is in flames.”

“Ha, you’ve got all the answers, don’t you?” he sniffed, refusing to acknowledge the moist on his cheeks.

“Nah, I only like to think I do,” Miho smirked, giving his shoulder a nudge with her own. “But don’t tell Seiji I said that; as far as he’s concerned, I’m always right.”

“You really won’t say anything?” he ventured cautiously.

“Nope,” she responded, looking at him plainly. “I’ll just be around, on the other end of the phone, if you need a big sister to bitch to about how stupid men can be.”

Finally, Issei huffed a short laugh.

“I am happy for you and him, even if it doesn’t look like it,” he told her very quietly, embarrassed despite the rest of their conversation. “Jealous I guess.”

“Hey,” came another voice behind them, and both turned their heads to find Seiji standing in the doorway behind them. “What’s this?”

“Decided I couldn’t choose between the Goto brothers,” Miho announced in total calm. “And my conclusion is, we’re just going to have to have a threesome.”

The brothers both spluttered, but Miho grinned.

“That’s a yes right?” she added, really pushing the envelope, and Seiji swept forward and snatched her wrist, pulling her to her feet and against him.

“That’s a no,” he rumbled definitively.

“Jeez Seiji,” Issei muttered also getting to his feet. “Marrying a succubus?”

“What did you just say?” Seiji blinked, his body instantly taut with anger, but Miho just laughed and put a hand on his chest.

“He’s just jealous of his big brother’s success,” she explained.

“Issei,” Seiji barked, motioning to Miho face. “Her eyes are up here.”

“It is a bit chilly out here, huh Miho?” Issei added for good measure, and though Miho wanted to continue laughing, she could feel Seiji getting totally worked up – and not in a good way.

“Okay okay, that’s enough,” she snickered. “But it is cold and I can’t feel my toes, so we should go back to bed, Seiji.”

It took a considerable nudge to get him to move, but when Miho got Seiji moving he continued through the door with her close behind him.

Back in his room, Miho snuggled back against the curve of his body, happy to be little spoon – this time – and to warm her frozen tootsies on his warm legs.

“You going to tell me what that was all about?” he prompted, breath in her hair.

“Brother-sister bonding,” Miho told him, gently stroking his forearm. “You know, he acts all tough, and like he doesn’t think much of you, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

“You got all that from just one day?”

“It’s my job to profile people, remember?” she smirked, closing her eyes. “And this family… I really did luck out with you didn’t I?”

“Mhm,” he huffed. “No more midnight rendezvous with Issei, okay?”

“No problem,” she chuckled softly. “We’ll do brunch instead.”

 Breakfast was another extravagant indication that Haruka did nothing by halves, but more than that, Issei actually smiled.

“You’re in a good mood,” Seiji noted suspiciously, and Miho elbowed him in the ribs.

“Can’t a guy smile without getting the third degree?” she poked, and Seiji grunted a little.

“So what is your plan for today, Miho-san?” Shinichi asked reservedly, and Miho bit her lip at the absolute cuteness.

And she couldn’t help herself.

“I was hoping Seiji would show me around his old hometown, Father.”

And Shinichi actually started choking on his mouthful, Seiji, sitting to Miho’s left, very nearly mimicking him.

“Aww look what you did,” Haruka chuckled, patting her husband’s back but beaming over him at Miho.

“I’m sorry,” Miho apologised, inclining her head. “It’s just, I feel so comfortable here with you all already, his formality…”

“She’s our daughter now, pretty much,” she told Shinichi, who was still trying to recover his composure. “No need to be so stiff.”

“Could you pass the salad please, Miho?” Issei asked politely, and Miho could see he was doing it to illustrate Haruka’s point to his father.

“Sure thing, Issei,” she replied, leaning over Seiji to convey the bowl to her new brother’s awaiting hands. “You all right there, Seiji?” she grinned, and he nodded, clearing his throat.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, taking a sip from his glass of water, and it only made Miho’s smile widen.

After helping with the dishes, Seiji and Miho left the house. Together they meandered through streets where he grew up, and happily she listened to his childhood anecdotes, probing to pick apart his reluctance to give too many embarrassing details at times. The weather smiled on them, their lunch was simple, but Miho couldn’t help but reflect upon how lucky she was to have such wonderful company.

“If you keep smiling like that, you’ll get wrinkles,” he teased, pulling Miho against him and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“I hope I age as gracefully as your mother has,” she laughed. “She has so much energy, hmm, just think…”

She looked into his face, sliding her hand beneath the back of his jacket and looping her thumb over the top of his pants, right into the crease of his butt-cheeks.

“… what I could do with that much energy.”

Naturally, his eyes widened and his body tensed, but she loved that about him too.

“You’re going to kill me as it is,” he told her, but his voice was filled with the kind of affection that…

Swallowing, Miho fell silent and looked ahead.

“I feel like I need to pinch myself,” she exhaled after half a minute of just their feet shuffling against the footpath. “You, your family, it’s all just too perfect.”

“It’s real,” he told her seriously, stopping her, turning her and touching the underside of her chin with the flat of one index finger. “But,” he added, then kissed her ever so lightly, “if you want me to pinch you…”

Distracted, she hadn’t noticed his other hand until he’d already sharply pinched her bum, and she let out a yelp.

“You sneaky bastard!” she exclaimed, giving him a playful whack before linking arms with him.

“I guess you’re a bad influence on me,” he explained with a wry smile.

“Oh don’t you start that shit too,” she complained, but really, she took it as a compliment.

“Hmph,” he huffed contentedly. “You’re not the only one who feels fortunate,” he continued. “And I really can’t wait for this to be official.”

“Well, I guess we now know it’s not especially difficult,” she pointed out, shaking her head. “We can always just get everything registered as soon as we’re back in Tokyo.”

He seemed to be mulling this over.

“There is something to the anticipation though too, isn’t there?” she said, knowing it wasn’t hesitation that made him pause.

“There is,” he agreed. “And there are so many things we haven’t figured out, like where we’re going to live.”

“That’s a good point,” she nodded. “I like my apartment, and yours, but it would be nice if we could…”

“… get a place that’s ours?” he finished, and Miho narrowed her eyes at him.

“Mind reading now?”

 As they walked back to his parents’ home in the late afternoon, they threw out all kinds of suggestions for their future, and arrived at the house in great spirits.

“We’re back,” Seiji announced, having scooped up three padded postage envelopes from the doorstep. “You didn’t hear the mailman?”

“Oh hmm?” Haruka murmured, taking the envelopes from her eldest son, passing one over to her husband. “Could you give this to Issei, Miho? He’s in his room.”

“Sure,” Miho nodded, and off she went, to find him at his desk, a couple of textbooks open, headphones on.

She did clear her throat, but he didn’t hear her, and so she stepped inside, and put it down beside him, just in his peripheral vision.

His head turned to her slowly, and she smiled.

“Don’t mind me, just making a special delivery,” she told him, then headed to the toilet.

She couldn’t have known.

But she heard Haruka’s startled exclamation from the other end of the house, followed by Shinichi’s deep voice.

“What the hell… is this?”

When Miho returned to the living area, it was like the time had frozen.

Haruka sat at the dining table, glossy photographs scattered in front of her – Shinichi sat on the couch, glossy photographs scattered on the coffee table before him – and Seiji stood half way between them both, true horror in his eyes, chiselled into his face.

“What’s wrong?” Miho scowled, and her sudden intrusion in the silence caused time to catch up.

“Miho it’s…” Seiji began, but Miho had already zoned her vision in on Haruka’s collection.

“That’s…” she shuddered out, a gasp of shock so powerful it scrambled her thoughts.

Slowly, Haruka’s hands moved to cover her mouth, but she was unable to look away from the images before her.

Miho and another man, lean and blond, naked, connected.

In some pictures Miho was restrained, her wrists bound by scarves, her legs held apart and tied to bedposts; in some, her skin was peppered with wax dripping from a candle held over her breasts; in some, her arms were wrenched behind her so far it looked like her shoulders might pop, and her body, the man’s body, shimmered with the product of their labours.

“Wha…” Miho managed, turning her head to Shinichi.

He too continued to peer at the prints before him.

Miho and a stunning woman, slender and pale-skinned, naked, entwined.

In some pictures Miho was lying sprawled back on a bright pink shag-pile rug, the long copper waves of her partner’s hair brushing against her abdomen; in one they were clearly grinding together, their lips locked, their arms locked around one another; in another Miho’s head was tilted back into the pillow, the other woman’s head just visible between her legs.

“How…” Miho blinked, and then she darted with ninja-assassin like speed for Issei’s room. “Issei!” she barked. “Don’t…!”

But it was too late, and Miho felt the floor fall away.

Issei was sitting on the carpet, the entire contents of his envelope placed side by side. His jaw moved as if he was trying to form words, but there was no sound, just the trembling of incomprehensible disbelief and the chaotic gatherings of a shattered heart.

Miho lounging back on Subaru’s kitchen counter.

Subaru pressing her back up against the wall, her legs wrapped around him.

Subaru poised behind her, about to press in…

She had no idea how such photos had been taken, such angles, such clarity and detail – it was like someone had been in each room with them, a twisted record keeper holding the private moments of what were in truth professional transactions hostage until that moment.

That moment when they were placed into the hands of her fiancé’s family.

 And Miho didn’t know what to do.

 @hifftn @nitelotus @smutmylifeup @smile-smile-ichthys