#circular yokohama

[cognitivejustice]

YOKOHAMA CIRCULAR DESIGN MUSEUM is a mobile museum that provides fun experiences in circular and sustainable living. The theme of the exhibition is “PLAYFUL CIRCULARITY.” You will encounter a wide variety of unique up-cycled items, artwork made from waste materials, locally made food, and other products and services that are sophisticated and beautifully designed.

Circular Yokohama has created “Circular Gacha,” a capsule toy machine that visitors can play with by inserting PET bottle caps, with the aim of creating opportunities for people to enjoy experiencing regional and resource recycling. The capsules that serve as prizes contain recyclable goods manufactured by businesses in Yokohama City, and visitors can obtain one of the prizes in exchange for a PET bottle cap.

“buøy” is a project to transform discarded ocean plastic into beautiful traditional crafts. It was born from an in-house project called “Plas + tech project”, which began in Technolab Co., Ltd., a product design company based in Kanagawa ward, Yokohama.

The idea behind “buøy” is that the essential cause of the ocean plastic pollution is not “material itself of plastic,” but the “human habit of using and discarding it easily.” Mass-produced plastic is discarded because it is seen as an inexpensive “commodity” that can be easily replaced. However, if it is beautiful and only one original “craft” in the world, can we still throw them away? No, we would care them more carefully. A craft dish made from ocean plastic garbage came out of this idea.

buøy’s beautiful design was realized by a special manufacturing method. It utilizes the properties of plastic, which melts with heat and hardens when cooled, and presses products at a constant pressure while applying heat. This makes it possible to create beautiful molded plates while mixing different types and colors of plastic materials. This method is currently patent-pending.

The ocean plastic garbage used as the material for buøy was collected by Technolabo staff on the Zushi Coast in Kanagawa, and the project fund was raised by crowdfunding.

any many many more at the museum link

[dvzaiosamu]

The dulcet taste of your lips — osamu dazai.

Hello :3 I was bored, so I decided to make this oneshot about Dazai (yes, again... Ik I'm obsessed over him sometimes). I hope you all are doing good. Take good care of yourself, drink water, don't forget to eat!

The theme for today's oneshot is: A sticky (too sweet) morning after having a tough day at work yesterday. Slight angst at first, slight fluff and then slight nsfw scenes at the end.

The night before, Yokohama, Japan.

The night illuminates your room that you share with Dazai, a soft light that helps you see the big moon in the sky, everything generated a melancholic feeling in you. The memories of all those times, your dark age where the light of the moon meant you had to go out and kill on orders from your superiors. The cold colors of the night are variants of many shades of colors that appear on your tired face.

You were sitting in front of the large window that gave way to views of the city. You observed the moon and the surroundings, although you did not really understand why, it is as if you had settled into an infinite trance that repeats itself every time you open yourself and begin to unconsciously read the pages of your past, which torments you like a terminal cancer, stabilized in your brain; This has made your perception of the world mostly negative, but now you were alone, Dazai had not yet returned from work, you understood that he had a night shift, it would probably not take more than an hour for him to appear with his charismatic smiles to hug you tenderly.

What a nightmare it was to be alone. It's not because it scared you, it wasn't for any reason that it provoked an inner fear in you, an intense dread, no, it wasn't like that. It was a nightmare because all the time you had thoughts running through your head, regretting that there were once people who, after your feline agility, scratched them, but not with nails, but with a sharp katana that you no longer have because you had just passed page. Although you are no longer the same, the past is still there, unconsciously you go deeper into the pit into which you had originally fallen.

You move uncomfortably through your thoughts, and in order not to continue looking at the moon, you get up slowly, rubbing your sleepy eyes, sighing when the change of position causes you terrible fatigue, increased by the long and terrible day you had had at work. Your bones seemed to creak like a bird's wing when you broke it in half, it was all in your imagination, but you would swear you heard some bones crunch, you get confused, but you still understand that those were the bones of people you killed in the past, that now replay in your mind.

You rub your temples, in a circular motion, but you can't get rid of the less than happy memories. You walk towards the small kitchen that housed the Agency's dorm. You take a clear glass and fill it halfway with fresh water. You hold it in your hand for a relatively long time, watching the artistic light of the kitchen projecting itself onto the glass in yellowish tones. The moment comes where you finally direct the surface of the glass towards your lips, drinking the water slowly, as if you were afraid that if you drank it too quickly, the glass would fall and break into millions of crystals that you would then step on, causing painful injuries.

"What's even happening to me..." You whisper these words once you place the glass in the sink. Your words come out like a ghost's whisper, almost unpredictable, a soft tone but slightly distorted by your own head that made you hallucinate voices or things that weren't really there and never existed. "What is wrong with me?"

For about a minute you remain motionless, thinking about the possibility of somehow eliminating those thoughts and freeing yourself. You were trying to organize yourself, your thoughts were rebellious, they didn't pay attention to you, and this wasn't just now, reversing time, you were a little girl who had a single order stuck in your head, "Kill when it's night. When it falls and the moon is seen". Even as an adult now, that order repeats itself like a broken record in your brain, and once again, another sigh leaves your mouth. Exhausted by suffering and the invisible rope that keeps you between the future and the past, you decide to walk towards your shared futon with your sweet partner, the tatami around it gave it elegance, but that was not what you were worried about at that moment.

You lie down and your head falls on the white pillows, freshly washed yesterday. You try to close your eyes, and although it is difficult, you finally manage to sleep.

─────

The morning comes as at the beginning of summer and the warm rays of the sun make the eyes open slightly. Outside now you see a sun, a yellow sun that shines, although you know that in hours that will be a moon, but that no longer torments you, since the orange colors of the sky make you calm down and think that you are in paradise. The sun's rays simply hit your skin and warm it pleasantly.

Beside you, you feel arms embracing you possessively, and it's just then that you realize that Dazai has returned. You could feel his heat hitting your back and his head on the back of your neck. With a slow movement, not even realizing if he was asleep or just waiting for his sleeping beauty to wake up, you stretch your arms, and you know it was a pleasant stretch as you hear your bones stretch. You yawn slightly, and turn your head to see your partner.

"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?" A voice soft like honey, cloying like melted sugar and a serene look, even maintaining his charisma makes you feel better after that night.

"I can't assure you of that... I didn't have a very good time last night, the memories torment me again, Dazai, I don't like to be alone when there is a moon in the starry sky," you explain with a slight complaining tone, as if you were blaming him for not coming ooner. "I only slept well the moment you came with me to sleep."

"I'm so sorry, belladonna... Kunikida made me finish my report and didn't let me go until it was ready," a drama in his tone of voice makes him sound like a whining puppy. "Believe me... I missed you a lot too."

Dazai's arms grab you and pull you towards him, so that you fall on top of him, your breathing changes slightly to a faster one, you watch him calmly, although in his eyes, your figure simply seduces him. You have Osamu at your mercy, and you notice how a pointed smirk appears on his face, one of his legs bending so that his knee is between your legs.

"You have to miss me a lot to be so hungry now, huh?" You scold him, gently grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He just smiles.

“I have to say… the only thing I’m hungry right now is dessert,” his words pause, in which his hands rest on the sides of your torso, bringing you closer to his desired position. His body lifts and sits up only to let the weight of your body rest on his lap, a shy look coming from you. "And that dessert is you."

“I don’t think cannibalism is ideal,” you reply, mildly bewildered.

A joyful laugh comes from him and his warm smile only widens as he looks at you tenderly. "No, silly, I didn't mean that... I meant something else!"

"What 'something else'...?"

A sudden kiss falls on your warm lips. A voracious hunger emanating from him doesn't allow you to react and you are taken by surprise by the flame that burns inside him every time he looks at you. Your lips fight to stay firm, but his insistence on having you close to him while he devours you makes you give in at one point, small bites on your lip, and you know that his way of kissing is passionate when he feels like it and soft when he thinks it's romantic —something that turns out too well—. The warmth of the morning envelops Osamu, and sooner than expected, his tounge joins the kiss, dancing with yours hungrily. What had you done for yourself, an innocent lamb, to fall into the clutches of a wolf?

Just when you think you're going to run out of air, he finally stops feeding on your lips, which would probably have a few small bruises on them. Both you and him take a breath and observe each other in silence, you feel how passion envelops you, although a shyness for such an intimate act knowing that you were not the type of person who liked sudden and rather soft kisses.

You are surprised how his cold hands sneak under your pajamas, touching your abdomen with an innocent smile, trying to escape a judging look from you, but you really didn't have the strength left to scold him, now you were just surprised. You absolutely hated this moment.

"I didn't expect you to do that..." you murmur sheepishly, a slight frown appearing on your face when he dares to move his hand downwards, you grab it and hold it down.

“What can I say… Hunger eats me up inside,” he sighs, his hand resting on your cheek. You really wondered why he liked to touch you whenever he could, no matter where he was. "The dulcet taste of your lips has left me satisfied, but I think I still have a little piece left to taste..." His eyes lower slightly down your body, and with a wicked smile he rolls you to the side, taking advantage of your confusion to be the one who had you immobilized.

"Dazai... Please, I just woke up earlier, do you really want me to go to work tired after what you're going to do?" You ask him, a small fear is present that swirls in your abdomen, and he seems to read your thoughts as if he lived in your brain, and an icy hand presses your abdomen, you squirm in place, and this increases Dazai's desire by seconds. "Please, let's just do this later?"

"You see, I can't really wait... You've done this, you're the one who's gonna solve it..." with his hand releasing pressure on your abdomen, he unbuttons his pants, eagerly anticipating it. Your nerves are starting to get to you, this is probably the second time in your life you've done this with him, and you don't expect it to be the last. "I'll go slow... I promise. Well, you might just see a few stars, but nothing too uncommon, really," his voice caresses your ear when he leans to whisper these, and you freeze when he also attempts to lower your pijama shorts.

You blink, nervous.

"We still have all morning... Well, shall we get started, my dear?" a smug on his lips as he pulls down the remaining underwear, so slowly it's like a torture for himself.

Ok, this is my first time writting suggestive scenes... I don't know if it's good or not, so comments about what you thought about this oneshot is appreciated.

[remikuii]

are you leaving me too?

( ᪥ ) : oh hii ! so before reading, let me inform you that this is the second part of the original post. kindly visit the 'summary' post here !

characters : ranpo edogawa and reader (as his foster mother)

synopsis : everything's not fine for ranpo. everywhere he go, he finds his way out immediately. since the death of his parents, he was left alone with no one to rely on. his dad who's known as 'the clairvoyant' told him if anything were to happen, ranpo should go to yokohama and visit the police academy. throughout his journey, he secretly longed for love—an unconditional love of a mother who will give him hugs, praises and snacks to go throughout his lonely world.

warnings : none because ranpo is a baby :3

"Ah...Miss [Last Name], you're better than that..." The Director of the Police Academy softly placed all the documents down the table. He let out a sigh and shook his head.

"I'm not gonna be able to approve of keeping Mr. Edogawa here..."

Inside the envelope is Ranpo's improvement card. Academically, he ranked 1 among all the students registered in Yokohama. There are no subjects marked failed except—the behaviour chart.

"Sir..please, the child got nowhere to stay if you kick him out of here..."

This is the only time that the Director heard your pleads. Ever since you applied for the job, what he admires about you is your cold demeanor. Things that must be done shall be done—that's what he learnt from you. You're not easy to please especially when it comes to students discipline.

"I admire his intelligence, Miss [Last Name]..It's the department's honor to have him here—he raised his name with this academy..."

"But I couldn't bear to see the rest suffer just because of an individual."

The tea he served now become cold, still untouched. With your head hang low, you stood up and gave him a bow.

"I...Understand..I'm sorry for causing you trouble at this hour."

"Ah! [Your Name]-chan!...OW!" You flicked Ranpo's forehead while hiding the pack of candies you bought for him.

"What did I told you about formalities when we're still inside the academy's premises?" Ranpo pouted and shook his head.

"It's still the same! You're Miss [Last Name] here and you are [Your Name]-chan outside! Is that two different person?" Ranpo received another flick on his forehead.

"No red bean porridge with a sweet mochi and pack of candies today, only water!"

It's quite a sight to see him throw his tantrum shamelessly everytime you give him that threat, yet you're caught off-guard, he only responded with silence.

"Ranpo...? Are you alright?"

You turned around and saw him searching in his pocket. With his usual closed eyes, he brought a silver chain from his pocket with a clear pebble on it. Inside, there is a piece of cherry blossom petal.

"I'm just drinking my favourite drink when I asked someone to remove the pebble inside. About the petal inside, it's too troublesome to tell you the story behind that." Ranpo reached out for you hands with his cheek tinted with crimson red.

"I heard your conversation with the Director..I'm sorry for causing you trouble." His hands connected to yours are trembling. It took you a minute to see the wet circular mark on the floor—he's crying.

You kneeled down to his height, took his hat off and ran your hands to his messy locks. His tears kept on flowing out from his eyes as he get overwhelmed of your actions.

"Ranpo-kun..? You will never cause me trouble, hm? Why would you cause me trouble? Because you ask me to buy you candies? To buy you red porridge? To give you a ride to school?" Ranpo embraced you. His tears staining your uniform but you don't give a damn.

"I...[Your Name]-chan...They...They don't know your anymore because of...me...You changed just to...let me have a place to stay at, to live at.."

You embraced him tighter, tears started to fall down your eyes. Ranpo fear that he causes you trouble. He is scared that maybe because of that, someday, you will get rid of him.

"I never behave, I often speak my thoughts, I often cause trouble, I often cause you trouble...[Your Name]-chan..I-I'm sorry..! Please don't get rid of me..!"

His words brings lots of memories back to you. Everytime his parents will ask to have you at their house, Ranpo is the very first one to welcome you. It's a rare sight for you to see him crying, not for candies but fear. Ranpo is the most intelligent child you witnessed to grow up.

Everytime he did something that he knows you wouldn't like, he will eventually get rid of the evidence (but nonetheless you saw it). Whenever you ask him to confess what he did, he will only pout and shook his head, giving you things such as his favourite candy or favourite toys as an apology.

You looked at the necklace he gave to you, they're newly made. He thought he caused you trouble, so he give you a necklace out of a pebble as an apology—he never changed.

"[Your Name]-chan...? You're gonna get rid of me too, right? Are you leaving me too?" You distanced yourself and grabbed his face.

"You're intelligent enough to see through me, right? Look, look at my face. Tell me if you see any evidence that will prove your question, that I will leave you." You firmly spoke despite the tears flowing on your cheeks.

Ranpo stared. It took him 5 minutes before shaking his head. He threw his arms back to you to embrace you.

"Remember when you're 4? We used to play crime-mine. We must solve a crime and then it will be marked ours if we are able to crack it. I saw your potential and your interest, that's why you're able to solve everything. You got 505 crimes named after you...Your Father bragged about that for weeks..."

"I may not be able to see the future or tell you the future but...Ranpo-kun..When you become a detective, I'll be right beside you. Always."

"Atsushi, I'll take over right here."

Ranpo took a step near the closed door, Atsushi behind him. They're at the Port Mafia's premises. The case of the missing Police Academy Director, [Your Name] is led by no other than Ranpo Edogawa himself.

"But it's too dangerous for you to have it here, Ranpo-san.."

"If [Your Name] didn't hesitate to give up everything to give me a life to live, then I won't too. If she didn't leave me, I won't leave her too—especially when she's in danger."

"After all, she's the love I lost and found."

okay y'all it's here huhu. I'm actually planning to make you cry about the ending but nope, I can't have smol ranpo crying over you.

i suggest you listen to sad kdrama ost or anything that sure will touch your soul, yeah yeah. that's it mwa mwa

[officiallordvetinari]

Below are 10 featured Wikipedia articles. Links and descriptions are below the cut.

The election in 1860 for the position of Boden Professor of Sanskrit at the University of Oxford was a competition between two candidates offering different approaches to Sanskrit scholarship. One was Monier Williams, an Oxford-educated Englishman who had spent 14 years teaching Sanskrit to those preparing to work in British India for the East India Company. The other, Max Müller, was a German-born lecturer at Oxford specialising in comparative philology, the science of language.

Adolfo Farsari (Italian pronunciation: [aˈdolfo farˈsaːri]; 11 February 1841 – 7 February 1898) was an Italian photographer based in Yokohama, Japan. His studio, the last notable foreign-owned studio in Japan, was one of the country's largest and most prolific commercial photographic firms. Largely due to Farsari's exacting technical standards and his entrepreneurial abilities, it had a significant influence on the development of photography in Japan.

Girl Pat was a small fishing trawler, based at the Lincolnshire port of Grimsby, that in 1936 was the subject of a media sensation when its captain took it on an unauthorised transatlantic voyage. The escapade ended in Georgetown, British Guiana, with the arrest of the captain, George "Dod" Orsborne, and his brother. The pair were later imprisoned for the theft of the vessel.

Abu Muhammad Hasan al-Kharrat (Arabic: حسن الخراط Ḥassan al-Kharrāṭ; 1861 – 25 December 1925) was one of the principal Syrian rebel commanders of the Great Syrian Revolt against the French Mandate. His main area of operations was in Damascus and its Ghouta countryside. He was killed in the struggle and is considered a hero by Syrians.

Marjorie Cameron Parsons Kimmel (April 23, 1922 – July 24, 1995), who professionally used the mononym Cameron, was an American artist, poet, actress and occultist. A follower of Thelema, the new religious movement established by the English occultist Aleister Crowley, she was married to rocket pioneer and fellow Thelemite Jack Parsons.

Maya stelae (singular stela) are monuments that were fashioned by the Maya civilization of ancient Mesoamerica. They consist of tall, sculpted stone shafts and are often associated with low circular stones referred to as altars, although their actual function is uncertain. Many stelae were sculpted in low relief, although plain monuments are found throughout the Maya region. The sculpting of these monuments spread throughout the Maya area during the Classic Period (250–900 AD), and these pairings of sculpted stelae and circular altars are considered a hallmark of Classic Maya civilization.

The North Norfolk Coast Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) is an area of European importance for wildlife in Norfolk, England. It comprises 7,700 ha (19,027 acres) of the county's north coast from just west of Holme-next-the-Sea to Kelling, and is additionally protected through Natura 2000, Special Protection Area (SPA) listings; it is also part of the Norfolk Coast Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB). The North Norfolk Coast is also designated as a wetland of international importance on the Ramsar list and most of it is a Biosphere Reserve.

Preening is a maintenance behaviour found in birds that involves the use of the beak to position feathers, interlock feather barbules that have become separated, clean plumage, and keep ectoparasites in check. Feathers contribute significantly to a bird's insulation, waterproofing and aerodynamic flight, and so are vital to its survival. Because of this, birds spend considerable time each day maintaining their feathers, primarily through preening.

The Wells and Wellington affair was a dispute about the publication of three papers in the Australian Journal of Herpetology in 1983 and 1985. The periodical was established in 1981 as a peer-reviewed scientific journal focusing on the study of amphibians and reptiles (herpetology). Its first two issues were published under the editorship of Richard W. Wells, a first-year biology student at Australia's University of New England. Wells then ceased communicating with the journal's editorial board for two years before suddenly publishing three papers without peer review in the journal in 1983 and 1985. Coauthored by himself and high school teacher Cliff Ross Wellington, the papers reorganized the taxonomy of all of Australia's and New Zealand's amphibians and reptiles and proposed over 700 changes to the binomial nomenclature of the region's herpetofauna.

Wulfhere or Wulfar (died 675) was King of Mercia from 658 until 675 AD. He was the first Christian king of all of Mercia, though it is not known when or how he converted from Anglo-Saxon paganism. His accession marked the end of Oswiu of Northumbria's overlordship of southern England, and Wulfhere extended his influence over much of that region.

[allbuthuman]

I've seen a lot of analysis of Chuuya's character focusing on being used or controlled, and I think I see it a bit differenly than most of what I've read, so here's some of my thoughts.

Control and lack thereof is, of course, a major theme in his arc. He was made how he is against his will, had his past taken away from him, and was being used for his strength by the Sheep, before getting blackmailed to join the mafia. However, in present time, and, in my opinion, from Stormbringer and onwards, Chuuya is essentially only being controlled by his own self (excluding the vampirism, of course). Let me explain.

Chuuya, likely because of his need to cling onto his humanity, has always been people-oriented. He knows that he holds more power than most, and is therefore obligated to protect others with it. Shirase and the Sheep don't need to tell him that, even though they do. He knows and believes it himself regardless. We can see that because he acts the same even around people who don't rely on him (the Flags).

Before Stormbringer, he might have acted this way because it was instilled into him by others. Through the events of Stormbringer, Chuuya becomes more confident in his own nature. He understands Verlaine and how he ended up the way that he is, and decides that's not gonna be him. He sees Dazai trying to discard his humanity, and decides that's not gonna be him. He is gonna be his own person, and his own person is someone who puts others before himself. He describes this process himself to Verlaine, saying that even if he wanted to kill N, which he probably did, he can't do that, because he is obligated to find the truth for the sake of his dead friends. That's a decision that's focused on others, but he is the one making it, and it's important to him that he is the one making it.

From that point on, he continues to make similar choices. First of all at the end of Stormbringer, when he immediately decides on saving Yokohama from destruction instead of learning the truth about himself, and the fact that he is the one making the choice is emphasised. Dazai gives him another choice, and he doesn't even need two minutes to consider it, because, by that point, he's only staying true to who he is. The same is true for Dead Apple, when he doesn't hesitate to use corruption without knowing if Dazai is alive.

I think that if we were to pinpoint a specific point in time where this solidified in his mind, it would be right after he was tortured by N. His hallucinations fed him his own doubts and fears, and, by the point he snapped out of them and decided to fight Verlaine instead of N, he knew that, human or not, he is his own person with his own emotions and he will stay true to that. It's likely that he didn't exactly put all of this into words in his mind, but it becomes very clear when he says that Verlaine "is just an ordinary human. He gets mad, he worries... That doesn't seem to be enough for him, though". He's confused when Adam implies so, but what his words mean is that it is, in fact, enough for Chuuya.

My point is that yes, Chuuya has always used his power way more often for the sake of others than himself, but the reason he does so, the reason he allows it, is simply the fact that he is Chuuya. If he's unable to stop acting that way, which he admits that he is, it's not because others are controlling him. It's because he is who he is. Whether or not that means he is free or not is beyond the point of this post, because it's sort of a circular process, where his own will is to act for the sake of others. But I do think, for example, that he wouldn't see himself the way a good chunk of the fandom sees him.

(also this is kind of a continuation of this post, or at least related to it, so check here for more chuuya ponderings)

[pix4japan]

Resemblance of the International Space Station?!

Location: Honmoku Pier, Naka Ward, Yokohama, Japan Timestamp: 16:48 on Sept. 6, 2023

I captured a shot of the inner diameter of the lower observation deck of the Yokohama Port Symbol Tower, where I tried to highlight graceful curved lines and repeating patterns.

For this particular shot, I opted for Fujifilm’s Classic Negative film simulation. This choice enhanced the brightness of the white tiled surfaces, though it did result in reduced contrast in the sky.

While the tower's official website doesn't confirm whether the semi-circular shape was intentionally designed to resemble a space station, several Japanese sources note a subtle resemblance to the workspaces/tubes found in the International Space Station (ISS).

For anyone planning on visit this tower, note that there is an elevator from the ground level to the lower observation deck. If traveling with a baby carriage, elderly family members, or anyone concerned about accessibility can still easily access the lower observation deck and surrounding green spaces.

Google Maps links to the this site, parking facilities, and the nearest bus stop can be found here: https://www.pix4japan.com/blog/20230906-symbol-tower.

How about you? Do you see any resemblance to the ISS? What about the left front side of the Millennium Falcon (Gen Xs)? I would love to hear your thoughts on this topic or is the city of Yokohama full of rubbish? 🤣

If you are a Fujifilm X100V shooter, would you use a different film simulation? OR, if you think this phot is pure rubbish, feel free to comment below!

Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter ISO 1250 for 1/250 sec. at ƒ/11 Classic Negative film simulation

[chloeunit6]

Geography of Japan:

Japan is bounded to the west by the Sea of Japan (East Sea), which separates it from the eastern shores of South and North Korea and southeastern Siberia (Russia); to the north by the La Perouse (Sōya) Strait, separating it from Russian-held Sakhalin Island and by the Sea of Okhotsk; to the northeast by the southern Kuril Islands (since World War II under Soviet and then Russian administration); to the east and south by the Pacific; and to the southwest by the East China Sea. The island of Tsushima is located between northwestern Kyushu and southeastern South Korea, defining the Korea Strait on the Korean side and the Tsushima Strait on the Japanese.

The country's mountainous character is the result of orogenic (mountain-building) factors that occurred mostly during the Quaternary period (approximately the last 2.6 million years), as demonstrated by the regular occurrence of strong earthquakes, volcanic activity, and indicators of sea level fluctuation along the coastline. There are no significant structural plains or peneplains (huge land expanses levelled by erosion), which are often found in more stable parts of the Earth. The mountains are mostly at an early stage of dissection, with steep slopes punctuated by extensive river-valley networks. Rivers are typically torrential, and their valleys are accompanied by a sequence of river terraces formed by movements in the Earth's crust, as well as climate and sea-level variations over the Holocene (the last 11,700 years). Recent volcanoes are paired with older, more dissected ones. The beaches are distinguished by raised and depressed features such as headlands and bays, which are still in their early stages of development. The mountains are broken into several tiny land units separated by plains or deep saddles; there is no large, continuous mountain range. These land blocks are the consequence of significant faulting (movement of nearby rock masses along a fracture) and warping (bending of the Earth's crust), with the former being the main process. As a result, mountain blocks are frequently surrounded by fault scarps and flexure slopes that drop in steps to the nearby lowlands. Coalescing alluvial fans, or conical deposits of alluvium that run together, arise where rivers emerge from the highlands. When rivers reach the sea, low deltaic plains form in front of fans. This is especially common in shallow and protected bays like Kantō (Kwanto), Nōbi, and Ōsaka. In most locations, however, fan surfaces plummet down into the sea, divided only by short, sandy beach ridges. Dissected plains are commonplace. Disturbances have risen old alluvial fans, deltas, and sea bottoms, resulting in flat-topped uplands like the Kantō Plain. Volcanic ash often covers the uplands, as seen in the Kantō and Tokachi plains.

Japan is one of the world's most geologically unstable regions. The country suffers over 1,000 tremors each year, most of which are small. However, severe earthquakes, like as those in Tokyo-Yokohama in 1923 and Kōbe in 1995, result in significant loss of life and massive devastation. Violent volcanic eruptions are common, and at least 60 volcanoes have been active throughout history. Shōwa Volcano on Hokkaido and Myōjin Rock off the Beyoneisu (or Bayonnaise) Rocks in the Pacific are examples of volcanoes formed around 1900. Major eruptions after 1980 include Mounts O (1983) and Mihara (1986) in the Izu Islands, as well as Mount Unzen (1991) in Kyushu. The country's plentiful hot springs are largely volcanic in nature. Many of the massive volcanoes are conical in appearance (such as Mount Fuji), while others produce steep lava domes (such as Mounts Dai and Unzen). There are few prominent shield volcanoes (wide, gently sloping volcanic cones), and there are no large lava plateaus. Calderas (huge, circular, basin-shaped volcanic depressions) are common in volcanic areas, particularly in the northeast and southwest, with many of them filled with water, including Lakes Kutcharo, Towada, and Ashi. The instability—and, in fact, the basis for Japan's existence—is caused by the tectonic movement of many of the Earth's major crustal plates near the archipelago. The most significant is the subduction (sinking) of the Pacific Plate (in the north) and the Philippine Plate (in the south) beneath the Eurasian Plate, on which Japan rests. The movements of these plates have formed six mountain arcs off Asia's northeastern coast: the Chishima Range of the Kuril Islands, the Karafuto (Sakhalin) Mountain system of Hokkaido, the Northeast, Southwest, and Shichito-Mariana ranges of Honshu, and the Ryukyu Island formations.

Reference:

The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. (1998). Japan's Land. [Online]. britannica. Last Updated: 27 October 2023. Available at: https://www.britannica.com/place/Japan/Geologic-framework [Accessed 19 February 2024].

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne

CHAPTER XXIV. DURING WHICH MR. FOGG AND PARTY CROSS THE PACIFIC OCEAN

What happened when the pilot-boat came in sight of Shanghai will be easily guessed. The signals made by the “Tankadere” had been seen by the captain of the Yokohama steamer, who, espying the flag at half-mast, had directed his course towards the little craft. Phileas Fogg, after paying the stipulated price of his passage to John Busby, and rewarding that worthy with the additional sum of five hundred and fifty pounds, ascended the steamer with Aouda and Fix; and they started at once for Nagasaki and Yokohama.

They reached their destination on the morning of the 14th of November. Phileas Fogg lost no time in going on board the “Carnatic,” where he learned, to Aouda’s great delight—and perhaps to his own, though he betrayed no emotion—that Passepartout, a Frenchman, had really arrived on her the day before.

The San Francisco steamer was announced to leave that very evening, and it became necessary to find Passepartout, if possible, without delay. Mr. Fogg applied in vain to the French and English consuls, and, after wandering through the streets a long time, began to despair of finding his missing servant. Chance, or perhaps a kind of presentiment, at last led him into the Honourable Mr. Batulcar’s theatre. He certainly would not have recognised Passepartout in the eccentric mountebank’s costume; but the latter, lying on his back, perceived his master in the gallery. He could not help starting, which so changed the position of his nose as to bring the “pyramid” pell-mell upon the stage.

All this Passepartout learned from Aouda, who recounted to him what had taken place on the voyage from Hong Kong to Shanghai on the “Tankadere,” in company with one Mr. Fix.

Passepartout did not change countenance on hearing this name. He thought that the time had not yet arrived to divulge to his master what had taken place between the detective and himself; and, in the account he gave of his absence, he simply excused himself for having been overtaken by drunkenness, in smoking opium at a tavern in Hong Kong.

Mr. Fogg heard this narrative coldly, without a word; and then furnished his man with funds necessary to obtain clothing more in harmony with his position. Within an hour the Frenchman had cut off his nose and parted with his wings, and retained nothing about him which recalled the sectary of the god Tingou.

The steamer which was about to depart from Yokohama to San Francisco belonged to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and was named the “General Grant.” She was a large paddle-wheel steamer of two thousand five hundred tons; well equipped and very fast. The massive walking-beam rose and fell above the deck; at one end a piston-rod worked up and down; and at the other was a connecting-rod which, in changing the rectilinear motion to a circular one, was directly connected with the shaft of the paddles. The “General Grant” was rigged with three masts, giving a large capacity for sails, and thus materially aiding the steam power. By making twelve miles an hour, she would cross the ocean in twenty-one days. Phileas Fogg was therefore justified in hoping that he would reach San Francisco by the 2nd of December, New York by the 11th, and London on the 20th—thus gaining several hours on the fatal date of the 21st of December.

There was a full complement of passengers on board, among them English, many Americans, a large number of coolies on their way to California, and several East Indian officers, who were spending their vacation in making the tour of the world. Nothing of moment happened on the voyage; the steamer, sustained on its large paddles, rolled but little, and the “Pacific” almost justified its name. Mr. Fogg was as calm and taciturn as ever. His young companion felt herself more and more attached to him by other ties than gratitude; his silent but generous nature impressed her more than she thought; and it was almost unconsciously that she yielded to emotions which did not seem to have the least effect upon her protector. Aouda took the keenest interest in his plans, and became impatient at any incident which seemed likely to retard his journey.

She often chatted with Passepartout, who did not fail to perceive the state of the lady’s heart; and, being the most faithful of domestics, he never exhausted his eulogies of Phileas Fogg’s honesty, generosity, and devotion. He took pains to calm Aouda’s doubts of a successful termination of the journey, telling her that the most difficult part of it had passed, that now they were beyond the fantastic countries of Japan and China, and were fairly on their way to civilised places again. A railway train from San Francisco to New York, and a transatlantic steamer from New York to Liverpool, would doubtless bring them to the end of this impossible journey round the world within the period agreed upon.

On the ninth day after leaving Yokohama, Phileas Fogg had traversed exactly one half of the terrestrial globe. The “General Grant” passed, on the 23rd of November, the one hundred and eightieth meridian, and was at the very antipodes of London. Mr. Fogg had, it is true, exhausted fifty-two of the eighty days in which he was to complete the tour, and there were only twenty-eight left. But, though he was only half-way by the difference of meridians, he had really gone over two-thirds of the whole journey; for he had been obliged to make long circuits from London to Aden, from Aden to Bombay, from Calcutta to Singapore, and from Singapore to Yokohama. Could he have followed without deviation the fiftieth parallel, which is that of London, the whole distance would only have been about twelve thousand miles; whereas he would be forced, by the irregular methods of locomotion, to traverse twenty-six thousand, of which he had, on the 23rd of November, accomplished seventeen thousand five hundred. And now the course was a straight one, and Fix was no longer there to put obstacles in their way!

It happened also, on the 23rd of November, that Passepartout made a joyful discovery. It will be remembered that the obstinate fellow had insisted on keeping his famous family watch at London time, and on regarding that of the countries he had passed through as quite false and unreliable. Now, on this day, though he had not changed the hands, he found that his watch exactly agreed with the ship’s chronometers. His triumph was hilarious. He would have liked to know what Fix would say if he were aboard!

“The rogue told me a lot of stories,” repeated Passepartout, “about the meridians, the sun, and the moon! Moon, indeed! moonshine more likely! If one listened to that sort of people, a pretty sort of time one would keep! I was sure that the sun would some day regulate itself by my watch!”

Passepartout was ignorant that, if the face of his watch had been divided into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, he would have no reason for exultation; for the hands of his watch would then, instead of as now indicating nine o’clock in the morning, indicate nine o’clock in the evening, that is, the twenty-first hour after midnight precisely the difference between London time and that of the one hundred and eightieth meridian. But if Fix had been able to explain this purely physical effect, Passepartout would not have admitted, even if he had comprehended it. Moreover, if the detective had been on board at that moment, Passepartout would have joined issue with him on a quite different subject, and in an entirely different manner.

Where was Fix at that moment?

He was actually on board the “General Grant.”

On reaching Yokohama, the detective, leaving Mr. Fogg, whom he expected to meet again during the day, had repaired at once to the English consulate, where he at last found the warrant of arrest. It had followed him from Bombay, and had come by the “Carnatic,” on which steamer he himself was supposed to be. Fix’s disappointment may be imagined when he reflected that the warrant was now useless. Mr. Fogg had left English ground, and it was now necessary to procure his extradition!

“Well,” thought Fix, after a moment of anger, “my warrant is not good here, but it will be in England. The rogue evidently intends to return to his own country, thinking he has thrown the police off his track. Good! I will follow him across the Atlantic. As for the money, heaven grant there may be some left! But the fellow has already spent in travelling, rewards, trials, bail, elephants, and all sorts of charges, more than five thousand pounds. Yet, after all, the Bank is rich!”

His course decided on, he went on board the “General Grant,” and was there when Mr. Fogg and Aouda arrived. To his utter amazement, he recognised Passepartout, despite his theatrical disguise. He quickly concealed himself in his cabin, to avoid an awkward explanation, and hoped—thanks to the number of passengers—to remain unperceived by Mr. Fogg’s servant.

On that very day, however, he met Passepartout face to face on the forward deck. The latter, without a word, made a rush for him, grasped him by the throat, and, much to the amusement of a group of Americans, who immediately began to bet on him, administered to the detective a perfect volley of blows, which proved the great superiority of French over English pugilistic skill.

When Passepartout had finished, he found himself relieved and comforted. Fix got up in a somewhat rumpled condition, and, looking at his adversary, coldly said, “Have you done?”

“For this time—yes.”

“Then let me have a word with you.”

“But I—”

“In your master’s interests.”

Passepartout seemed to be vanquished by Fix’s coolness, for he quietly followed him, and they sat down aside from the rest of the passengers.

“You have given me a thrashing,” said Fix. “Good, I expected it. Now, listen to me. Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg’s adversary. I am now in his game.”

“Aha!” cried Passepartout; “you are convinced he is an honest man?”

“No,” replied Fix coldly, “I think him a rascal. Sh! don’t budge, and let me speak. As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it was for my interest to detain him there until my warrant of arrest arrived. I did everything I could to keep him back. I sent the Bombay priests after him, I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong, I separated you from him, and I made him miss the Yokohama steamer.”

Passepartout listened, with closed fists.

“Now,” resumed Fix, “Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England. Well, I will follow him there. But hereafter I will do as much to keep obstacles out of his way as I have done up to this time to put them in his path. I’ve changed my game, you see, and simply because it was for my interest to change it. Your interest is the same as mine; for it is only in England that you will ascertain whether you are in the service of a criminal or an honest man.”

Passepartout listened very attentively to Fix, and was convinced that he spoke with entire good faith.

“Are we friends?” asked the detective.

“Friends?—no,” replied Passepartout; “but allies, perhaps. At the least sign of treason, however, I’ll twist your neck for you.”

“Agreed,” said the detective quietly.

Eleven days later, on the 3rd of December, the “General Grant” entered the bay of the Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco.

Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a single day.

CHAPTER XXV. IN WHICH A SLIGHT GLIMPSE IS HAD OF SAN FRANCISCO

It was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout set foot upon the American continent, if this name can be given to the floating quay upon which they disembarked. These quays, rising and falling with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and unloading of vessels. Alongside them were clippers of all sizes, steamers of all nationalities, and the steamboats, with several decks rising one above the other, which ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries. There were also heaped up the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico, Chili, Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia, and all the Pacific islands.

Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American continent, thought he would manifest it by executing a perilous vault in fine style; but, tumbling upon some worm-eaten planks, he fell through them. Put out of countenance by the manner in which he thus “set foot” upon the New World, he uttered a loud cry, which so frightened the innumerable cormorants and pelicans that are always perched upon these movable quays, that they flew noisily away.

Mr. Fogg, on reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour the first train left for New York, and learned that this was at six o’clock p.m.; he had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the Californian capital. Taking a carriage at a charge of three dollars, he and Aouda entered it, while Passepartout mounted the box beside the driver, and they set out for the International Hotel.

From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much curiosity the wide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon Gothic churches, the great docks, the palatial wooden and brick warehouses, the numerous conveyances, omnibuses, horse-cars, and upon the side-walks, not only Americans and Europeans, but Chinese and Indians. Passepartout was surprised at all he saw. San Francisco was no longer the legendary city of 1849—a city of banditti, assassins, and incendiaries, who had flocked hither in crowds in pursuit of plunder; a paradise of outlaws, where they gambled with gold-dust, a revolver in one hand and a bowie-knife in the other: it was now a great commercial emporium.

The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of the streets and avenues, which cut each other at right-angles, and in the midst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares, while beyond appeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the Celestial Empire in a toy-box. Sombreros and red shirts and plumed Indians were rarely to be seen; but there were silk hats and black coats everywhere worn by a multitude of nervously active, gentlemanly-looking men. Some of the streets—especially Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco what Regent Street is to London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris, and Broadway to New York—were lined with splendid and spacious stores, which exposed in their windows the products of the entire world.

When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not seem to him as if he had left England at all.

The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort of restaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of dried beef, oyster soup, biscuits, and cheese, without taking out their purses. Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or sherry which was drunk. This seemed “very American” to Passepartout. The hotel refreshment-rooms were comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing themselves at a table, were abundantly served on diminutive plates by negroes of darkest hue.

After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the English consulate to have his passport visaed. As he was going out, he met Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well, before taking the train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield rifles and Colt’s revolvers. He had been listening to stories of attacks upon the trains by the Sioux and Pawnees. Mr. Fogg thought it a useless precaution, but told him to do as he thought best, and went on to the consulate.

He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when, “by the greatest chance in the world,” he met Fix. The detective seemed wholly taken by surprise. What! Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed the Pacific together, and not met on the steamer! At least Fix felt honoured to behold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so much, and, as his business recalled him to Europe, he should be delighted to continue the journey in such pleasant company.

Mr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his; and the detective—who was determined not to lose sight of him—begged permission to accompany them in their walk about San Francisco—a request which Mr. Fogg readily granted.

They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd was collected; the side-walks, street, horsecar rails, the shop-doors, the windows of the houses, and even the roofs, were full of people. Men were going about carrying large posters, and flags and streamers were floating in the wind; while loud cries were heard on every hand.

“Hurrah for Camerfield!”

“Hurrah for Mandiboy!”

It was a political meeting; at least so Fix conjectured, who said to Mr. Fogg, “Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd. There may be danger in it.”

“Yes,” returned Mr. Fogg; “and blows, even if they are political, are still blows.”

Fix smiled at this remark; and, in order to be able to see without being jostled about, the party took up a position on the top of a flight of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery Street. Opposite them, on the other side of the street, between a coal wharf and a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been erected in the open air, towards which the current of the crowd seemed to be directed.

For what purpose was this meeting? What was the occasion of this excited assemblage? Phileas Fogg could not imagine. Was it to nominate some high official—a governor or member of Congress? It was not improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.

Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass. All the hands were raised in the air. Some, tightly closed, seemed to disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries—an energetic way, no doubt, of casting a vote. The crowd swayed back, the banners and flags wavered, disappeared an instant, then reappeared in tatters. The undulations of the human surge reached the steps, while all the heads floundered on the surface like a sea agitated by a squall. Many of the black hats disappeared, and the greater part of the crowd seemed to have diminished in height.

“It is evidently a meeting,” said Fix, “and its object must be an exciting one. I should not wonder if it were about the ‘Alabama,’ despite the fact that that question is settled.”

“Perhaps,” replied Mr. Fogg, simply.

“At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the Honourable Mr. Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Mandiboy.”

Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg’s arm, observed the tumultuous scene with surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of it all was. Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose; hurrahs and excited shouts were heard; the staffs of the banners began to be used as offensive weapons; and fists flew about in every direction. Thumps were exchanged from the tops of the carriages and omnibuses which had been blocked up in the crowd. Boots and shoes went whirling through the air, and Mr. Fogg thought he even heard the crack of revolvers mingling in the din, the rout approached the stairway, and flowed over the lower step. One of the parties had evidently been repulsed; but the mere lookers-on could not tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had gained the upper hand.

“It would be prudent for us to retire,” said Fix, who was anxious that Mr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they got back to London. “If there is any question about England in all this, and we were recognised, I fear it would go hard with us.”

“An English subject—” began Mr. Fogg.

He did not finish his sentence; for a terrific hubbub now arose on the terrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and there were frantic shouts of, “Hurrah for Mandiboy! Hip, hip, hurrah!”

It was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and taking the Camerfield forces in flank. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix found themselves between two fires; it was too late to escape. The torrent of men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was irresistible. Phileas Fogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their attempts to protect their fair companion; the former, as cool as ever, tried to defend himself with the weapons which nature has placed at the end of every Englishman’s arm, but in vain. A big brawny fellow with a red beard, flushed face, and broad shoulders, who seemed to be the chief of the band, raised his clenched fist to strike Mr. Fogg, whom he would have given a crushing blow, had not Fix rushed in and received it in his stead. An enormous bruise immediately made its appearance under the detective’s silk hat, which was completely smashed in.

“Yankee!” exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the ruffian.

“Englishman!” returned the other. “We will meet again!”

“When you please.”

“What is your name?”

“Phileas Fogg. And yours?”

“Colonel Stamp Proctor.”

The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily got upon his feet again, though with tattered clothes. Happily, he was not seriously hurt. His travelling overcoat was divided into two unequal parts, and his trousers resembled those of certain Indians, which fit less compactly than they are easy to put on. Aouda had escaped unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and blue bruise.

“Thanks,” said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out of the crowd.

“No thanks are necessary,” replied Fix; “but let us go.”

“Where?”

“To a tailor’s.”

Such a visit was, indeed, opportune. The clothing of both Mr. Fogg and Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively engaged in the contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour after, they were once more suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the International Hotel.

Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen six-barrelled revolvers. When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows; but Aouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure, his countenance resumed its placid expression. Fix evidently was no longer an enemy, but an ally; he was faithfully keeping his word.

Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and their luggage to the station drew up to the door. As he was getting in, Mr. Fogg said to Fix, “You have not seen this Colonel Proctor again?”

“No.”

“I will come back to America to find him,” said Phileas Fogg calmly. “It would not be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be treated in that way, without retaliating.”

The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear that Mr. Fogg was one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate duelling at home, fight abroad when their honour is attacked.

At a quarter before six the travellers reached the station, and found the train ready to depart. As he was about to enter it, Mr. Fogg called a porter, and said to him: “My friend, was there not some trouble to-day in San Francisco?”

“It was a political meeting, sir,” replied the porter.

“But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the streets.”

“It was only a meeting assembled for an election.”

“The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?” asked Mr. Fogg.

“No, sir; of a justice of the peace.”

Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.

[gettatranslations]

Celebration！Yumigeta Ako (23.10.07)

Good evening🌝

I'm Yumigeta Ako🛑

Thank you very much for your comments yesterday！

...

Today was…

Ishida-san's homecoming performance！

＆

Nonakka-san〜n's birthday〜💜💜💜

I was able to take a photo with them 📸

Everyone thank you very much for our 2 performances！

Today was an amaziーng ｢W Celebration｣！

Welcome home Ishida-san、

Happy birthday Nonaka-san、

I had so much fun during the MC being able to talk so much！

And before the show started I thought ｢It'd be so pretty if the blue and purple penlights were shining together｣ so I peered out at the audience to take a look！It was super pretty‼️

It looked like the ocean！

Also it was my first homecoming performance… It felt totally different to our summer tour！

Before the show started I took a tour around the audience seats to see what your perspective would be like、and I realised the second floor seats were surprisingly high so I had to make sure to look up、so I learned a lot by doing it！

The actual show was even more fun than ever！！

To tell you the truth、I've always been in cultural clubs at school so I have absolutely no physical stamina…

At our previous Shibuya performance I was already out of breath by the end of the 3rd song which made me panic and I managed to finish the whole show but I wish I could have had more fun… I really spent this past week focusing on building up my stamina？And today I feel like I had enough energy to have fun too！

So from now on I'll work hard at building up my stamina so that I can have more fun‼️

And And And

Lookie Lookie！

Ishida-san's grandmother's pickles as is tradition✨🥒

They're really deliciousーs‼️‼️‼️

I love them、and they helped me do my best today♡

I ate lots of them again today 😋

I hope I can eat them again！

⋆┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⋆

Well then it's time for today's 【Gettaa Life】✨

Today I tried wearing my fringe up！

I hated how my fringe looked after it got all sweaty last time…

So I thought this would be a simple way to combat that…

And I braided my fringe for today's performance‼️

I had to laugh when I saw my reflection、because my forehead looked to wide and square…

I think it made me look really young！

But I feel like I had more fun because my fringe was up！

I could see you all better because my fringe wasn't in my face‼️

Particularly I could see all the way up to the top floor…

The Sendai venue feels like Budokan！Because it's circular○

So I felt like my vision was a 360 degree camera❤️‍🔥

I want lots of people to come and see us at large venues like Yokohama Arena and Budokan！

I'm so excite〜d⤴︎︎︎

I Getted ｢An Emotional Perspective｣✨️

I wonder what the view of Budokan would be like from the ceiling

I'm curiousー

That's all！This has been 【Gettaa Life】！

⋆┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⋆

T/N News and information has not been translated

⋆┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⋆

Today was my 2nd time coming back here、so a lot of times I was like 「I remember seeing that person during the Summer Tour too！」😂

And、「I saw that person at an individual eventー！」❗️

And lots of people were waving red penlights💕

Seeing red penlights always makes my mood 1up✨

Thank you very much！

Tomorrow is Iwate！

I've never once in my life been to Iwate、so it'll be my first time！

I wanna eat wanko soba〜I wonder how many bowls I could eat〜

I'll do my best to become the No. 1 soba eater in Morning Musume。❤️‍🔥笑lol

Well then I'll see you tomorrow！

This has been YumiGettaa Ako！Good night🦊🦊🦊

[blueweaveconsultingblog]

Israel Tire Market Scope, Trends, Analysis, Report 2022-2029

BlueWeave Consulting, a leading strategic consulting and market research firm, in its recent study, estimated Israel tire market size at USD 612.16 million in 2022. During the forecast period between 2023 and 2029, BlueWeave expects the Israel tire market size to grow at a CAGR of 3.24% reaching a value of USD 765.25 million by 2029. Israel tire market has seen several notable patterns. The need for environmentally friendly and fuel-efficient tires has increased as the importance of sustainable mobility has increased. Also, as a result of technology improvements, more smart tires with embedded sensors are being used for improved performance and safety monitoring. Due to consumer demand for better driving experiences, the Israel market has seen a trend toward premium and specialized tires. Online retail channels have become more popular, making it easier to buy tires. However, shifting raw material prices and legislative changes provide significant difficulties. Overall, environmental awareness, innovation, and shifting consumer tastes are all present in the Israeli tire market.

Israel Tire Market – Overview

A tire is a circular, rubber-constructed component commonly used in vehicles to provide traction, support, and cushioning between the vehicle and the road surface. It consists of various layers including tread, sidewall, and inner liner, designed to offer grip, stability, and resistance to wear. Tires come in diverse types tailored for specific purposes like passenger cars, trucks, motorcycles, and bicycles, with variations for different terrains and weather conditions. Regular maintenance is essential to ensure proper inflation, tread depth, and overall condition, as tires play a pivotal role in vehicle safety, efficiency, and performance.

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Israel Tire Market – By Demand Category

By demand category, Israel tire market is split into OEM and Replacement segments. These segments demarcate the primary avenues through which tires are integrated into the automotive landscape. The OEM segment dominates the Israel tire market by demand category. The OEM segment encompasses the tires that are directly incorporated into new vehicles during their manufacturing process. This category underscores the collaboration between automakers and tire manufacturers to ensure optimal performance and compatibility.

On the other hand, the replacement segment involves the tires that are purchased by vehicle owners to replace worn-out or damaged tires on existing vehicles. This segment is influenced by factors like vehicle maintenance, road conditions, and consumer preferences

Competitive Landscape

Israel tire market is fiercely competitive. Major companies in the market include Michelin, Bridgestone, Goodyear, Continental, Pirelli, Hankook, Yokohama, Toyo Tires, Nokian Tyres, and Maxxis. These companies use various strategies, including increasing investments in their R&D activities, mergers, and acquisitions, joint ventures, collaborations, licensing agreements, and new product and service releases to further strengthen their position in Israel tire market.

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[bunglegaydogs]

this this THISSSS

the thing about these two that gets me is they understand each other - like mori and dazai, they understand how the other's brain works. how they think. how they work.

that doesn't mean they understand each other's hearts or emotions.

that is the way in which dazai differs to fyodor, and hes mentioned it im sure.

the fact that fyodor only does things for personal gain, and sees himself as superior to everybody else. he sees himself as a messenger of god, and he sees himself as the one who will save everybody from this world.

dazai does not see himself that way at all. yes sure, he can be a little smug bastard, but he's never cocky in the way fyodor is. when sigma calls him superhuman, he tells him that superhumans dont exist, and hes an ordinary person.

people hold dazai up on a pedestal (namely atsushi) out of fear for his intellect and strategic methods/tactics, but the one person who wants no part in it is dazai himself. theres a quote i absolutely adore in the dark era LN.

Immense achievements. But there was one person who wasn’t happy with such an honor. Dazai himself. Dazai sat alone on his circular chair in the container, staring into the darkness.

Fyodor and dazai differ in the sense that fyodor actually doesnt show emotion, or hasnt so far in the series. he sees himself as superior, and doesnt think that he can lose. he sees dazai as a challenge, merely a trial from god to test him. and, i made a post about this a while ago, but i think that will be his downfall.

dazai is sacrificing EVERYTHING for the agency. hes putting his life on the line, and not just the agency, but chuuya. sigma. the people of yokohama. the fucking world. everybody is sacrificing so much - fyodor is sacrificng nothing. hes using everyone else. i dont think i can name one thing that fyodor has sacrificed in this series to help another person out, yet i can think of quite a few for dazai.

they're pretty similar strategically and logically. they both think of rational solutions and come out with optimal outcomes. theyre cold in their thinking, and theyre direct. theyre geniuses, yet they use that genius for differing means.

one thing that really hammers home just how different they are is the fact that fyodor was willing to execute sigma. which he failed. dazai, out of everything he could have chosen that would perhaps solidify his escape, and aid him further, he chose sigma. not because he wanted to use him. but because he didnt want fyodor or nikolai to get to him. he wanted to save him. of course, thats not the only reason. but at least it is one of them. that thought wouldnt have even crossed fyodors mind.

another way they differ is the fact that dazai is completely unpredictable. hear me out. i know fyodor is just as unpredictable and hard to read as dazai - but i dont mean in a logical sense. i mean in every sense. dazai is a wild card. hes rogue. in the wise words of oda, "In a three-legged race he'd turn around and start running the other way." or something along those lines. hes eccentric. and that includes his emotions.

fyodor clearly doesnt have a good read on emotions - with dazai, he recognises that chuuya is a bit of a weak spot for him. so, he utilises him and manipulates him into his plans, bc (as with the both of them all the time) he has many reasons to be doing that. he makes his decisions based on sound logic, and what will damage his enemy the most. he taunts dazai, and tells him that hes "not fit to utilise a gravity manipulator", indicating that chuuya is simply a puppet to be toyed with. indicating that hes not his own person. dehumanising him. and that wont stand with dazai, who fought so hard to prove that chuuya was a human. who was adamant, even when faced with the fact that he was most likely definitely not. he refused to budge. much like chuuya in dead apple when ango was telling him that he was definitely dead.

the difference between fyodor and dazai is that fyodor has nobody on his side. he has nobody to trust with his life. nobody trusts him in return.

and hes underestimating the trust between dazai and chuuya, because he cant comprehend that two people will trust or care for each other that much. hes like a guy who just thinks that everyone else is an npc and that hes the only real person. he doesnt see the emotions or value in feeling in other people. i cant explain very well lol. he only sees how he can use them, or what he can use against them.

this probably made ZERO sense and definitely went off the rails. sorry i got off topic lol

ANYWAYS YES I AGREE <333

Something that I dislike a lot in the bsd fandom is that people really tend to forget that Dazai is not that alike with Fyodor. I mean; sure, dazai and fyodor are both genius and they are most likely on the same level of iq, but that doesnt mean that they are the same emotionally, morally or psychologically.

First of all, we've seen that dazai has some people that he genuinely cares for. A lot of people think that, just because this man was in the mafia and still manipulates people around him when necessary to reach his goals, he doesn't have emotions or a heart, that all of what he did when he left the mafia he did it only as an errand for oda. We see dazai's change and evolution constantly on the manga, we've seen him show affection towards people, be it oda, chuuya and even atsushi. He's shown some real grown on his morals and matureness. And even if this man has a constant facade, it doesn't mean that it is with the intention to hurt anyone. Dazai himself hides his feelings, because, in his words: everything I cherish is lost the moment I obtain it (or something along those lines, I dont remember tbh 😭) he himself admits that if he indulges himself too much on something, it will all go away, so he prefers to deny his feelings and not get too close.

Saying this, when was the time we've seen fyodor show some real, not fake emotion? And by emotion I mean his real feelings, affection for someone or literally anything that shows that, besides being an asshole and a genius, he actually cares for people.

By that means, they, fyodor and dazai, are not similar at all. Dazai doesn't show himself being vulnerable, but we know he pretty much feels and cares enough to try to be a good person, because of the promise he made with oda and because of his own desire to save people and not be in the dark anymore. Meanwhile, fyodor is such a mysterious character that only shows true malice and cleverness. And that is the big difference between them. In any moment, dazai could MAYBE let his emotions slip and it could affect his plans, because he shows true emotion (to us audience, not the characters) and because he is a human, and he can't carry his facade for much longer.

So that's why I dont view them as equal humans (if fyodor even is a human, atp I'm not sure of anything tbh), but as equally capable individuals.

And remember guys, dazai is not a heartless monster who manipulates anyone who crosses his path and just wears this "I dont care about anything" facade, who only ever cared about oda, and who is trying his damn best into changing as a person only because of oda's wish, but a human who feels and hides himself and his feelings in fear he could, someday, loose anything he cares for.

[umez]

(ファブラボみなとみらいで制作した循環ガチャ YOKOHAMA CIRCULAR DESIGN MUSEUMに登場／お知らせ｜神奈川大学から)

[kasa51]

circular footbridge by kazu saito

[shadyteacup]

If you’re still doing requestsssssss how about a hcs of Dazai x fem! Reader who is like Midari from Kakegurui 😌

Ooh thats a nice one! Yes love, I'm still doing requestss

And I'm so sorry, this is so late... also it's very long n I'm not exaggerating. It's not even funny I'm so sorry

I'm Crazy, But I'm Free

Dazai x Fem!reader who is like Midari

• You and Dazai probably met during his days at the port mafia.

• I can imagine the mafia capturing you because of how much trouble you were causing in a casino.

• UK, when big businesses pay gangsters for security?? Yeah, similarly the casino you were playing at, has paid the mafia.

• You were already banned from many other casinos, as your games either end with you gaining a lot of money, or begin with a dangerous condition.

• Many people were quite afraid of you, and wanted to avoid even being in the same room as you, as they couldn't handle the severity of the danger you pose with every game.

• Anyways, so you were warned by a few members of the mafia twice, but you, being the fearless adventurer you are, flipped them off and continued to seek a life threatening game.

• So then the mafia decided to use violence, and cornered you in a dark alley. You pulled out your beloved gun.

"Well, well, well! Do you boys want a fight!?", you excitedly point the gun at them.

"Put your weapon down, Ms. L/N. We are here to warn you for the final time. Stay away from this casino. Further misbehavior will lead to dangerous consequences."

You hum, thinking up a plan.

"How about this. My revolver has 5 bullets. And there are five of us. How about we all take turns to shoot blindfolded!"

You excitedly shove them in a circular arrangement.

"I'll go first! The rules are that every person gets a chance to shoot from the center of the circle. If the bullet misses, everyone takes a step ahead, closer to the center."

You explain, grinning at the men clad in all black.

"If a bullet hits me, I'll agree to your terms. If it hits one of you lot, then you can't stop me anymore. What do you say?!"

The mafiosi were weirded out by this. What if you had a good aim, or an ability that allowed you to shoot them with your eyes closed? They didn't have much intel on you, and only knew you to be a girl from a rich background, who had come to Yokohama for higher studies.

"That's enough. Grab her-"

• Thats when our boy showed up. Dazai was curious when he overheard some of the men talk about some 'fearless girl that had flipped them off even after two rather threatening warnings.'

• So he had decided to tag along, staying in the shadows, until now.

• "I think it will be a wonderful idea. Play along, gentlemen. I want to see where this goes."

• You shot, and missed. So did the other guy. Then the other one. Now, the circle had shrunk really small. You were almost in the line of fire at this point. There was an 80% chance of getting shot.

• "That's enough." ,Dazai said, as he walked to stand in front of you.

• "You are daring, aren't you. You're not afraid of death."

• Staring into his eyes, you saw a reflection of yourself. A dark, lost soul stared back at you.

• "In fact, you arranged this little game to ensure that you got hurt. You perfectly planned it out, and ensured that as the circle gets smaller, you would be in the direct line of fire."

• "You missed the first shot on purpose, didn't you?"

• He had seen right through your game.

'What's this guy's deal?', you thought.

"Why would you stop the game when it was at its peak? Hah? Whats wrong with you, man?!", you angrily grab his collar. "I was just beginning to have fun, and here you are, ruinjng it!"

• Taken aback by your bravery, he just blinked at you.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, obviously, idiot. But that doesn't give you any right to interrupt our game."

"Oh? So who do you think I am."

You give him a 'baka janiono?' look.

"You are their leader. Probably an executive of the mafia, judging by your expensive suit. Why?"

The thoughts running through Dazai's head were along the lines of :

'Just who is this girl? How does she know about the mafia? Surely my men weren't dumb enough to tell her who they work for. How does she know about my position? She surely didn't just guess that, right?? And why the fuck does a student have a gun? Does her family have connections within the underworld? She obviously doesn't fear death. Will she be a good addition to the mafia?'

• "What are you thinking about, baka? Answer me."

• He smiled sweetly at you, and firmly gripped your wrist, pushing it off his collar.

"There's someone who would like to meet you"

Before you can retort back, he continues,"You seek adventure, do you not? You want to feel something worthwhile. Something akin to facing death, something that will give you an adrenaline rush. I can give you all of that. If you come with me, that is."

• Mori was shocked when he heard about what had happened. He agreed with Dazai's decision to make you join the ranks. He needed such fearless crackheads in his organization.

• He paired you up with the double black, making you an executive too. You hadn't quite agreed to his terms, but he had offered you to just accompany the ginger and the brunette on a mission. And had let you make the final decision .

• You three had to go to an abandoned warehouse, where some people were tampering with the mafia goods. There, you saw how sadistic Dazai was. How manipulative and bad he was. It made you fall for him. Hard. Plus, you realized the risk of being a mafiosi. It was quite thrilling.

• When you got back, you had screamed at mori to let you join. Quite literally begged. And he, ofcourse, agreed. You hadn't even given him a chance to threaten your life, which was the usual norm, when a valuable asset wasn't willing to join the ranks of the feared organization.

• You trained with dazai. And purposely got hit. It turned you on. But you never mentioned anything, in fear of being rejected.

• Dazai, ofcourse, noticed this, and one fine day, confronted you about it. You told him just how much you love him. He was always intrigued by your sadistic side. He saw a part of himself in you. The daring, brave, smart side of yours was something so similar to himself, yet unique. You were seeking the same thing that he was, that is to feel something. He felt sadness, and loneliness, and he never had a purpose in life. You, someone who had it all, a good family, a great marksheet, and a pre set goal in life, were willing to give it away, just to feel something. He, someone who was stripped off of a normal childhood, was never given the opportunity to choose. He used to think that maybe he was to blame. Maybe if he had had better luck, he would have gotten a good childhood, a purpose. But now that he knows you, a genius, smart person, who had it all, but threw it away, he realized that maybe life really is worthless. Maybe, he wasn't to be blamed. And that, oddly enough, made him feel better. To know that no matter how much lady luck favors him, life would still be fucked up, and that it wasn't his fault, made him hate himself less.

• And so, you two became a thing.

• Let's just say, that both of you are equally freaky.

• You want him to dom u, and he gladly accepts

• You guys try it all... I mean, especially with guns.

• I can imagine you both sitting at a boring meeting, when you decide to edge him on, and you're not even touching him. Your gun is.

• You both claim atleast one spare room on every floor of the building, for your.... activities.

• You are like his praise queen.

• He loves that.

• Always rough. Always. And you guys are into spicing it up.

• Anyways, you both never decide to commit double suicide.

• Thats because dazai wants a beautiful way out, while you want to feel the thrill of facing death. You don't really want to die, you just want to know the feeling of almost dying. You want to feel something exhilarating.

• When Dazai decides to leave the mafia, you are all for it. As long as you get to stay by his side, you were ok with it.

• Like Midari, you are a very perceptive person, and can easily guess what's going on in someone's mind. Dazai was easy to read for you, as his thoughts were pretty similar to your own.

• You were smart, cunning, and could read peoples mind with ease. So it was pretty easy for you to guess what's going on in Dazai's mind, sometimes even predicting his next moves.

• You really fit in with the ada, coz that place is filled with crackheads, and you and dazai are no exception lol

• Also, you get along with Yosano really well.

• Like, if you weren't so loyal to dazai, you would have become Yosanos slave. So would i ngl

• Anyways, you and dazai always mess with kunikida. You two prank him till the breaking point. You two are such a menace in the office. Always skipping work, slacking off, but really shining when it comes to actual detective work, like solving mysteries.

• You are a valuable asset to the ada, coz 1. You are smart and 2. You can intimidate the enemy into giving in, thanks to your sadistic games.

• You are also a very good companion. You can easily understand what the other is feeling, and end up comforting the gang.

• I can imagine you roasting Kunikida for being such a nerd, but at the same time giving him accurate and well needed advice .

• You do the same for your bf, and the two of you have many late night convos about topic that Dazai had never discussed with anyone before. Because no one had quite understood him the way you did.

• Midari is actually a pretty deep character, and just like her, you have many layers. There's the sadistic side, the goofy side, the careless side, the intelligent side and the insightful nature.

• You would be his perfect partner, as you'd support his crazy, reckless ideas, but at the same time keep him afloat, and prevent him from drowning in his own thoughts.

[doctorbunny]

I haven't looked into it nearly as deeply as Mahiru's stuff, but my best guess is 恵比寿駅 (ebisu eki/ebisu station) which is in Shibuya (and also where Mikoto's stock photo was taken near, normally stock photo locations don't matter - Like Kazui's is of a balcony and he is from Yokohama City, so the fact the original photo is of a balcony in Kyoto doesn't matter - But Mikoto's is the only one where photo location and undercover card home location match)

So this would be a major station near his home (the stock photo website gives the description 東京 恵比寿 住宅街 恵比寿3丁目 aka Tokyo, Ebisu, residential area - Ebisu, 3 Chome) Which according to google maps is an area super close to the train station (Side note I tried looking for 広告代理店 advertising agencies in Ebisu to see if I could find one that Mikoto might be near, lets just say if he lived in Chome 3 he'd have his pick of agencies in biking distance)

There's also multiple levels, including an underground metro line

I don't have more to say here's some random google reviews:

It's a station. Neither here nor there but between. As a result there is nothing to like or dislike. Except it's cold outside.

Nice Station, easy to access and well marked, especially to the Hibiya Line. Worst smelling urinals in the entire JR system, smells like the urinals never flush.

All of the stations in Tokyo seem to have their own theme music. If you think the music here is familiar, but can't quite place it, it's the theme from the classic film The Third Man. I think the music was made famous in Japan from beer commercials, but I happily thought of Orson Welles each time a train passed the station.

Ebisu station on the Yamanote (circular) line. Despite being one of the main connections to Roppongi this station is rarely crowded at night in my experience. The platform is quite wide (in comparison to other downtown train platforms) and there is a good flow of movement. To get to the subway station you actually have to leave the JR station (West gate) and go outside to enter the subway station. Around the station there are some eateries and shops and the Ebisu gardens are near. The station is more than 100 years old and was originally used for freight forwarding Yebisu beer which was brewed in the area at the time. The station's name comes from the beer!

where is this. like exactly. what train station in japan would have that city view

[lethargicsunlight]

'Demon' Chapter 3 : For The Mission Bakugou x Fem!Reader (book 1)

Hello~

First of all, Thank you for reading!

You can also read this chapter and the previous ones here on my AO3.

Or, you can find the previous chapter here.

I will come up with a better linking system soon, but I gotta get back to work real quick :(

WARNINGS: Injury, bodily fluids, angst, SFW

Please enjoy!

👹🖤⛓🔪💣

You knew running was a losing game, as speedy as you could be. He was saving his energy by using his mutation quirk for movement.

You pull loose a throwing knife from the holster on your side, keeping the blade bared outward to defend yourself as you take in your blurring surroundings. You make a turn, decidedly veering away from the direction of the bar you'd just left; the last thing you needed was for your pursuer to call in reinforcements that could teleport.

Despite sliding through sharp turns, you couldn't manage to get far enough ahead to fake him out. With the tough exoskeleton they possessed, he was easily driving his extra limbs into the walls and using them as leverage to fling himself forward--closing in on you much faster than you wanted.

"What is it little Demon?" He screeches, mandibles scratching and gnawing together as his mouth stretches open. "I thought you would be a much more riveting opponent than this!"

...Sometimes, you gotta give them what they want.

Mid-run, you locate a window going into an abandoned office building. Throwing your knife, it punctures the glass and leaves hair-line fractures across the surface--you can see the reflection of Sting's eyes within the shards as you thrust your weight into the opening.

In a circular motion, you manage to unsheathe one of the longer blades at your back and parry  his limbs in the air before you're tumbling over the broken glass. It hurts, but you don't allow yourself to slow down. You roll back up, unsheathing the second blade with your free-hand as you crouch, ready to strike.

Now you at least had one advantage over him. More cover.

"Heh," he seems to hesitate, finally setting his body back upon solid ground as he evaluates you. His gaze is filled with confidence after watching you run away from him. Like prey.  In his pause, you have a few seconds to analyze his structure. The exoskeleton would to be too hard to cut, so your focus had to be the areas you could see flesh exposed. You were aware the legs could retreat into his back, which guaranteed a lack of access there. All you could see was his face and his hands--though peaking out from beneath a tucked scarf, was the smooth skin of a throat.

You had made an oath long ago that you would never kill again. But in defense of your mission... you could manage an exception. It would all be over soon anyway.

Instead of coming at you straight on, he throws another knife at you to get everything back into motion. It has you leaping backwards unto a filing cabinet--and he's charging at you finally with the ferocity of essentially four swords. Due to his extra limbs' reach, you realize you won't get a hit on him this way.

It becomes a tangle of blades as you parry and block and twist around his advances, kicking up papers and folders to distract him as you move up and down over obstacles. The venom in your arm begins to dance through your veins, tingling beneath the skin--you are running out of time.

You can see his face twist into a smile; he's sure he's going to win.

Good.

As he makes the mistake you were waiting for, drawing one of his limbs back for a final attack; his mouth is open to announce his triumph. As the air begins to leave his lungs and form syllables in his mouth, time slows down for you. Your blade held up to parry drops from your hand, sending his stinger forward to scrap across your shoulder; close but not too close to your neck. You grab the knife on his belt that you had been eyeing since his first advance in the alleyway, and slice through the joint.

It brings him to a halt, howling as he moves backwards. Green ichor sprays across your face and drips from his new amputation, his other three limbs curling around his body while his hands grope his shoulders.

You pocket his knife and retrieve your blade from the floor.

"Noo! Nonono..!" He's wailing--it sounds grief-stricken now. While there were questionable 'doctors' among villain society; no one has the ability to bring back a limb. Especially one like that. You had mired him, for the rest of his life.

You prepare for a death blow--but the flash of skin beneath the fabric of his shirt causes your hesitation.

You don't have to kill him. It's relief that floods through your tense and calculating mind; briefly before being replaced with pain. As you had expected, a minute in and his neurotoxic venom has seeped into the muscles of your arm. It feels like a chemical burn--acid turning flesh to sizzling nothing. The arm goes limp, but you force your grip on the blade--you had to appear stable.

"I'm going--I'm going to kill you!" He screeches, and there's a squeal behind it like the voice of the insect part of him was a separate entity.

"...You can't kill me." You say slowly, approaching with your good arm raised. You swallow, then let your voice drop an octave as fear seeps into his eyes. There's a button you managed to press a moment ago, that makes the eyes glow from your mask. A cerulean color--a color that was a remnant of your past. "I'm not human."

From the look on his face--he believes you. Your charade is working. You grit your teeth, forcing your shaking and screaming arm to lift and move to the back of your head. It's a movement that suggests you'll remove your mask.

"N-No, no!" He shifts back again, and unaware of his surroundings he trips and lands among the broken glass. His remaining extra limbs curl in close to his face, leaving his abdomen bare. "You're lying! You can't steal people's souls, you're just--you're like us!"

"Then why are you hiding your face?"

"Wh--" With the distraction of speech, he doesn't block when you throw the hidden blade from your hood down into his abdomen. It's a solemn thwack, and then the harsher crack of his skull when you flip the blade in your good hand and swing it between his stinging limbs to ram into his bare temple.

He's out. He's internally bleeding, and he'll never be the same... but he'll live. Maybe when he wakes, he'll have a different outlook on life. Or, most likely, he'll want to hunt you down.

You suppose that should scare you. But given the note you had received from the hero agency you worked with, your time was going to end anyway. He wouldn't have a chance.

"Hrk--" You crumple to the ground, clutching the arm that felt like it should be bare bone rather than flesh. It's like the nerves are exposed; the grip from your clothed hand sending shockwaves down your spine.

You couldn't help but brood--seeing as how moving was so difficult--at how opposite this situation had been compared to what it seemed.

While you had delivered a blow based on skill--you won the fight by lying. Like an illusion, you'd expertly hidden behind the smoke and mirrors to make him believe you were bigger than you actually were. Like you had won easily, rather than by the skin of your teeth.

You wheeze, tears pricking at your eyes while you force yourself to rise. You needed to get back to base. Especially before he did, and preferably before anyone decides to investigate the noises of your chase earlier.

You stumble out of the building through the window you had broken, and slowly creep through the alleys of Yokohama once again.

---

Every television in the base was alight with the bright colors of the Sports Festival.

You were pretty sure that H.H. kept cameras within those screens, ever watching the faces of his lackeys and agents--judging their actions and expressions. Another advantage to always wearing a mask.

You stood, back pressed to a wall in the shadow of a corner as you side-eye the screen. Watching the students filter out unto the field causes a bitter-sweet fluttering in your stomach.

You remembered the first time you had watched the event. You were much younger, sitting with your knees pressing into the floor and palms crushing a few stray sheets of paper. Really, you had never been all that interested in television, mostly because the other kids at the foster-care center were rambunctious when they sat in front of it.

But this time, the only two souls whose eyes were glued to the flat surface were yours and your new foster brother's, who had been the one to convince you to watch it in the first place.

"You gotta watch it--I'm gunna be on it one day!" He says, arm extending to offer his hand. You stare at it, bug-eyed.

"Oh," you meagerly utter, taking his hand and letting him lead you. He laughs and pulls you along until your both sitting in the living-room floor.

"Don't worry," he leans in towards you, "I'll keep the volume low. Trust me though, kay? You gotta watch it, it's really fun!"

You don't believe him, but before long you're both cheering with the crowd and talking avidly about your favorite contestants. He--

You draw yourself out of the memory as large letters appear in your peripheral. The first game had been announced. A race.

There was a sinking feeling in your chest to know that he should have been there amongst them, maybe a year ago. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that he would have won. Maybe even every challenge.

Even at that young of an age, he had always been so full of righteous fire.

He could have been a hero of heroes...

If not for you.

----

You catch pieces of the Sports festival as you move through the base in search of an old 'escape plan' map. Head Honcho had certainly made modifications since the water-treatment plant had been adopted as his new lair, but you could draw them out if only you had a layout of the place.

Chemical spills did happen, so you could only hope that the escape plans had been forgotten when everything was moving in. In a storage closet somewhere, on the door of an outlet box, above the water control panel--somewhere.

Moving through an old lounge, large screens portrayed the ongoing of the race that had long-since started above the heads of a few agents. They were newer, but they noticed you when you walked in.

The looks in the eyes of those whose faces were exposed was that of mixed admiration and loathing. But, fortunately for you--Head Honcho had made it very clear that you were to be left alone. Treated as exalted, as though separate from everyone else on a holy level. Not that they worshipped you--but that he wanted you to be considered the entity you played as. A demon.

The rumor was as much to his advantage as it was yours.

Their eyes follow you in the dark as you move around them, but something suddenly has their eyes whipping back to the screen as the closer viewers make noises of surprise. You decide to look too, selfishly; and you're rewarded with something familiar.

A freckled green-haired boy. He's flying through the air after a massive explosion, rivaling the two that had been effortlessly charging towards the finish from the beginning. The three of them are suddenly close together, faces etched in the effort to win--and you find yourself openly admiring them.

Beneath your mask, you're smiling. Your heart is pounding and you want to cheer like old times, throwing popcorn in the air and rejoicing--no matter who won. You could practically feel your foster brother's spirit next to you, tugging on your heart. You should be there, enjoying this. You hear him say.

Your breath catches in your throat as there's another explosion--Midoriya had managed to throw the bit of metal he'd carried with him all this way and use another surge of momentum to carry him forward. Everything stills as you wait, holding that breath until finally--finally--it is him that enters the arena in first place.

Adrenaline explodes and rockets around your ribs and your heart--but you're still. You mouth the word 'yes', but didn't dare utter a syllable. Controlling yourself, you make for the exit of the room, intent now more than ever to carry out your mission. To help ensure the safety of those three boys that fought so hard to be recognized as heroes.

For those three boys that reminded you so much of him.