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beewolfwrites · 4 years ago

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And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Eight: Mad to Live, Mad to Talk

The eighth instalment of my Chishiya x OC/reader fic - you can find it here on AO3 too.

Thank you to the people who always leave likes and comments, seeing/reading them honestly makes my day :) xx

As for what I mentioned in my last update, I’ll add the references as a chapter at the end of the fic (because some of them will give away spoilers!)

Speaking of spoilers, you guys probably connected some dots (a la hoodie)

Sorry, I'll stop talking - enjoy!

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The drawl of his voice stretched like a lifeline, pulling me back to myself. Back to the bar.

Chishiya was slouched against the counter, idly watching the scene before him. His eyes dropped to the gun, before rising to meet mine. There was nothing in them, not amusement, not even cruelty. Nothing. They were emptier and darker than they’d ever been. And yet at that moment, I had never been more overjoyed to see him.

‘You should probably put that thing away,’ he said. ‘Hatter won’t be too happy if you start messing with her. He’s got high expectations of her.’

The man pushed the gun further into my skin, sending bursts of anxiety through me. I didn’t want him to pull the trigger accidentally. If he shot me in the stomach, it’d be a slow, painful death.

‘You know Chishiya, I’m pretty sick of you interfering all the time. You should stay out of militant business.’

Chishiya eyed the man with disinterest. ‘Militant business. It’s fascinating what you guys do. You take out the trash and dish out the sentence, but you never check the evidence.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ the man snarled. ‘Just shut up and stay out of this.’

‘What I’m saying is that you never bother checking to see if the ‘traitors’ are actually traitors. It’s surprisingly easy to slip a few cards into someone else’s room.’

The tension peaked, and I winced as the fingers around my wrist tightened painfully. Then just as quickly, he released me. He hissed a spew of threats in Chishiya’s face, then stormed off. I hadn’t understood a word, but either way, Chishiya was completely unbothered.

Now that we were alone, he barely even spared me a glance. I half-wondered why he was here. He wouldn’t have come to the bar just to help me. But I also couldn’t picture him as a drunk. As if to answer all the questions floating around in my head, Chishiya signalled to the bartender and said two words.

‘お水をください’ Water, please.

Knowing him, he’d say that alcohol clouds your mind and dulls your rational thinking skills. The bartender set the glass on the counter, but Chishiya didn’t walk away, but sipped his water.

‘Thanks,’ I muttered, although helping me was likely never on his agenda. ‘I’m guessing stuff like that’s pretty common around here.’

‘Well, there are only three rules,’ he said. With one side glance, he zeroed in on the hoodie Kuina had given me. ‘Right now, you’re not allowed to go roaming the city alone because you’re still new, and that makes you a liability. But the next time you’re in a game, you’ll be paired with one of the executives, or someone else with a high rank. If you ask, they’ll go with you to find new clothes.’

I didn’t know how he knew the hoodie wasn’t mine. But I had given up trying to figure out how Chishiya’s mind works.

Before I could ask, he spoke, catching me off guard once again. ‘Come on, Kuina’s waiting for us.’

----------------------------------------------------

That night, I had found out that Kuina and Chishiya were actually friends. Sort of. It was hard to tell. They hung around together and joked like friends, but instinctively I could tell that Kuina didn’t completely trust him. The days passed quickly, and despite the obvious tension between the militants and the other executives, I found myself actually enjoying it. It was hard not to, with hot water and all.

I spent my days pestering Chishiya to teach me Japanese properly (which he never did). And Kuina and I would chat about the real world. She told me about her mother’s sickness, and how she was desperate to get back to the old world so she could look after her properly. But when she asked about my own life, I filtered a lot of things out. I explained how I was visiting Japan with my brother, and how I had been trying to learn Japanese on and off for a few years just so that I could visit. But when it came to my personal life, I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it.

‘話せば長くなる,’ I told her. It’s a long story.

The days seemed to dry up under the heat of the sun, and sure enough, my visa was due to expire.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed under the late afternoon rays, I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive after my last game… my first Hearts game… meeting Niragi and Aguni… the laser tag guns… the ball pit… the teenage girl. It had all collected into one big mass, and my throat tightened at the thought of the blood, the darkness.

No, I tried to tell myself. It’s different now. We’ll be put into teams, and I won’t be alone. We’ll clear the games together.

With slightly more resolve than before, I climbed off the bed and quietly left my room, only my stomach dropped when I saw the nasty surprise waiting for me on the other side of the door.

Niragi was leaning against the opposite wall, and the moment I exited, he shot me a grin. I had no idea what he was doing there, probably militant business, so I nodded at him in acknowledgement, then headed down the hall. I knew something was seriously wrong when I heard his footsteps stalking behind me.

‘Niragi,’ I greeted him.

‘Shorty,’ he replied, now walking beside me. ‘You really shouldn’t ignore people, you know. It’s rude as fuck.’

What does he want with me of all people?

‘私を待っているとは知らなかった,’ I told him honestly. I didn’t know you were waiting for me.

‘Ch, as if. I waited there for half an hour. Where the hell are you off to anyway?’

I held out my bandaged arm. ‘これがまだ痛い。だから医療室ではアンに会う.’ This still hurts, so I’m meeting An in the medical room.

Overall, it had healed pretty well. But after the laser tag game, and being kidnapped by militants, the wound had partially re-opened again.

‘I’ll go with you.’

Why??

My gut instinct was telling me to run away, far away.

We turned a corner, stopping in front of the elevators. When the doors pinged open, the group of girls inside immediately stopped talking once they laid eyes on us. They darted out of the elevator, leaving it empty for Niragi and I to enter. I tried not to feel nervous around him. If he wanted me dead, he’d have just shot me already, so it couldn’t be that.

‘どうして待っていた?’ I asked, slowly. How come you were waiting?

Asking Niragi questions felt like a life-or-death situation. Last time I was rude to him he kicked me in the spine. The man was like a loaded gun; he had to be handled with care.

However, he didn’t reply, and the lingered between us until the elevator stopped at the basement floor. We headed down a long, dark hallway, with exposed cables and pipes suspended from the ceiling. This was starting to feel like a really, really bad idea. Seeing the medical room door, I sped up instinctively, but Niragi’s hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back and yanking me around. The movement sent shooting pains down through my injured arm.

‘Chishiya,’ Niragi said, eyes glinting with malice. ‘You’ve become pretty chummy with him recently.’

Wait… what?

‘That’s not…’ I hated the way my voice stuttered. ‘そうじゃない.’ That’s not it….

He clearly wasn’t buying it. ‘Tell me what he’s up to. He’s an arrogant little shit and I know he’s up to something.’

Niragi’s grip was too tight, way too tight, and I could barely think straight through the pain. ‘違うよ,’ I insisted. You’re wrong.

‘Am I? I don’t think so, Shorty. You’d better tell me now before I put a bullet in you.’

I didn’t know whether I was scared or annoyed. My heart hammered in my chest, but I was getting pretty sick of his ridiculous questions. I tore away from his hold, inspecting the sleeve for any spots of blood that could’ve seeped through.

‘Stop doing that! クイナのパーカーを台無しにしたくない.’ I don’t want to ruin Kuina’s hoodie.

His brow furrowed a little at this, but I ignored it. Someone like him probably didn’t care about getting blood on his clothes.

I didn’t know how to say what I meant in Japanese, so all I could do was tell him in English. ‘You’re right about one thing. Chishiya’s awful. But you’re wrong about everything else. He can’t stand the sight of me, except when he’s watching me suffer. So even if he did have some kind of plan hatched up, he wouldn’t bother telling me.’

Niragi pulled away and stood up fully. Despite his visible irritation, he was listening all the same.

Perhaps he knows a little bit of the language?

‘And even then,’ I continued, ‘if he was planning something, why would he bother? You know as well as anyone he’s just in this for his own survival and being here at the Beach is his best shot. It wouldn’t make sense.’

A dangerous look worked its way onto his features. I thought right then and there that he’d attack me, kick me with his boot like he’d done before. But he did the exact opposite. With one hand, he twirled his fingers in a strand of my hair, before softly tucking it behind my ear.

I held my breath as he leaned in. ‘Everything you just said,’ he whispered, ‘is complete bullshit.’

Then pulling away quicker than I could flinch, he readjusted his rifle on his shoulder and took off back down the hall. Then he suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and looked at me over his shoulder.

‘That hoodie you’re wearing… it’s Chishiya’s.’

-------------------------------------------------------

I must’ve looked like I’d seen a ghost, because when I finally entered the medical room, An immediately asked me if I was feeling ill. I tried telling her that I was perfectly fine, but she insisted on taking a bunch of tests to make sure I wasn’t going into septic shock. I couldn’t tell her that it was closer to actual shock.

Even when I finally left the medical room, I still couldn’t shake it off. Except now, the surprise had worn away, leaving sheer humiliation in its place.

Did Kuina steal it from his room?

When he met me at the bar, he must’ve seen it and wondered where I’d gotten it from. And when he had mentioned asking one of the executives to go shopping with me… he had probably assumed I’d been in his room and taken it.

Oh god…

I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. I wanted to scream and tell him I’m sorry. I wanted to rip the hoodie off and push it as far away from me as I could. But I couldn’t. I still didn’t feel comfortable being so exposed.

‘It’s fine,’ I tried to convince myself, ‘everything’s fine.’ I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor.

My visa’s due to expire tonight, so I can get a new one for myself. I’ll just explain everything to him. It’s almost game time anyway, so he might be in the lobby.

As the elevator doors opened, I wiped any tears away with my hands, careful not to dirty the sleeves, and headed to the lobby. It was packed with Beach residents, either wishing their friends luck or preparing for the games ahead. I found the little table at the front and took the slip of paper with my name on it.

Group Two.

Then I stepped back, leaning against the wall as my eyes searched the crowds. Sure enough, I spotted a white hood, the thin tendrils of grey-blond hair visible beneath. I waited until he took his slip of paper before I stepped forward.

But there was no need. His eyes locked onto mine from across the room, as if he had clocked onto my presence immediately without showing it. He trudged through the masses, coming to a stop in front of me. I couldn’t help but rub my arms nervously.

‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted out, ‘Kuina gave me this hoodie, and I assumed it was hers and that she was letting me use it. But I just found out from Niragi that it’s actually yours. I didn’t steal it or anything, and I’ve definitely never been in your room. I’m so sorry, I had no idea.’

Chishiya didn’t seem surprised at all, or if he was, he was an expert at hiding it. ‘I know,’ he said, at last. ‘You couldn’t have known where my room was anyway.’

Thinking about it, he had a point. When I started wearing this, I hadn’t even left my own room, so I couldn’t have been in Chishiya’s.

‘I guess you’re right.’

I felt his warmth against my side as he leaned on the wall next to be me. ‘But what I told you at the bar that night still stands,’ he said. ‘Tonight, you’ll get the chance to go looking for any clothes or personal items you want.’

‘Once I get some of my own clothes, I’ll wash this and give it back to you, I promise’ I told him. ‘I just need to find out who the executive in my group is.’

‘It’s me.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because the executives create the groups,’ he said. ‘And I happen to be supervising you. Normally, when a new member arrives, we do an aptitude test. We observe them in a game to test their abilities, but I’ve already vouched for your abilities, and there were only two executives with an expiring visa.’

‘That’s….’ I trailed off, then something clicked. ‘Wait, who was the other executive?’

Ignoring my question, he went on. ‘Since I’ve already seen your abilities, your only test will be to survive. If you can do that, I’ll go with you to get whatever supplies you need.’

I tried to keep the smile from my face, but I couldn’t hold it back. ‘Sounds like a deal.’

‘Time for the games!’ a voice called out, excitedly, and the whole room erupted into cheers. The masses of Beach members piled through the doors, trying to find their assigned cars and groups.

At the same time, I hadn’t moved at all. I couldn’t keep my eyes from Chishiya’s. He was looking back into mine with that same calculating emptiness. I could see the cogs turning, but I didn’t know what they were turning for.

Then as quickly as it happened, the moment was gone as he left, disappearing into the crowd.

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

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rein-ette · 4 years ago

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Hi!

I was inspired by your asks, so I wanted to hear from you! What do you think of Canada as a country? I had a bit of a Canadian phase long ago and I tried to consume as much literature and history as I could, but reading about a place and living in it are very different experiences, so is there anything you'd like to share about Canada, about the culture or the people? Do you like living there? What are some of your favorites things? How do you survive the winters?

And also, as a character, what do you think of Matt?

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Aaaaaaaaah okay okay *ahem*

If you’re not here for a Ted talk the exit is to your left, have a great day!

I do love Canada very much! I was born and pretty much grew up here, and as I’ve grown older I’ve become more and more grateful for everything that my country has provided for me! I remember my history teacher in high school said once that by being born into the middle class and as a Canadian, you’ve already won the lottery of life. That was not to disparage other countries, but to remind us of how remarkably privileged we are and how much we take for granted.

One of the first things you hear when you ask people what does it mean to Canadian is the word “multicultural.” I find this word realllyyyyyy cringeyyyy and not really reflective of reality, but I suppose it’s a good starting point for more in depth discussion. People often say Canada is a “cultural melting pot”, but the indigenous poet Marilyn Dumont pointed out in her poems that in some ways it’s more of a mosaic — there are many cultures, but they don’t always meld together. To say it’s a melting pot is ignoring the fact that racism and discrimination certainly have and do still exist here.

But I would argue that in some areas it is a “melting pot”, even if I kinda hate that word. I prefer to think of where I live as cultural delta — a place where many mighty tributaries meet as they thunder into the sea. (It is also literally a delta, funnily enough) Here, I grew up absorbing Canadian ideas, studying British history, reading American literature, learning French — but I also grew up listening to Kpop, watching Ghibli, eating rice. When I meet up with friends, we don’t grab a coffee, we grab milk tea. If you ask people here where they would like to visit or live, they will most likely say New York, London, Hong Kong, or Seoul — which tells you a bit about both how powerful and diverse the cultural influences here are.

Perhaps the thing most indicative of Canada’s “multiculturalism” and what I am most grateful for, however, is that I grew up here without fear. I didn’t even know the words “chink” or other words existed until I could access the internet. Recently, the beatings of Asian immigrants in the UK and US brought this home for me — how lucky I am to have such a privileged childhood. And I know this kind of privilege is hard won; in my research of WW2 I found that one of the amusement parks that I used to frequent as a child was built on land that once housed a Japanese internment camp. How fragile our lives are!

But enough about the serious stuff. I can’t really answer your question about how to survive winters in Canada lol, except to say that where I am in Canada it is absolutely necessary everyone own at least 3-4 umbrellas. That’s because this side of the Rockies in BC, the temperatures are pretty mild year round — the coldest it gets is usually 0, and the hottest around 25. But, by god, it rains. I did go to Ottawa in the winter though, where it was -13 one day, but honestly? Everything below 0 feels pretty much the same. Once it gets that cold, you can’t even tell anymore. I wore a skirt and tights that day, with a good, thick winter coat. And I survived :D

Besides not being heckled on the street for being Asian, my favourite things about Canada are probably the amazing diversity of good food and how tremendously beautiful the wilderness here is. And I say this as someone who loses her mind when a mosquito flies past (ie. I am not a nature person). You can kinda tell from these photos here, but the trees and water and whatnot here, are like, real. Maybe I just find that amazing because I lived in Tianjin, but it just feels like this is a city built among the trees and the sky and water that was always here, and not a city where humans have brought in nature for our amusement.

Okay, gotta move on to your other questions or I’ll go on forever. As a state I think Canada does a fairly good job of providing for its own people, but I wish we had a greater global influence. A lot of youth especially express the view that Canada is kinda...boring if your career doesn’t have to do with, like, sports, nature, or medicine, and I would tend to agree. We have great universities, but as someone who studies international relations I often wish Canada would like? Do more? On the global scale. The only thing we really have under our name is the UN peacekeeping, which PM Pearson started after the Suez Canal Crisis. I mean, I’ve heard that many people abroad identify Canada with peace and like ofc I’m not complaining about that, but I just wish our history was a little spicier, ya know? We did kick Americas ass that one time in 1812 and that was amazing. No regrets.

So that brings me to Matt. A lot of Canada’s existence has just been dominated by trying to carve a way between the US and the British while not being swallowed by either. Britain gave us the protection and strength and diversification of identity to not be annexed by the US, but at the same time it hobbled Canada’s relation with our only neighbour. One of the very first treaties Canada negotiated alone, if I’m recalling correctly, was a trade contract with the US over fishing (?) in BC and Alaska, where London was like no you can’t and Canada was like uh we gotta make money too, bro. So yes, while I do believe Mattie is just a very loyal person in general, he was also loyal to the empire because he needed to survive. A lot of Canadian identity was solidified around our prompt assistance of England and the sacrifices made in the two world wars, especially the campaigns in the Low Countries and Italy. Essentially, Canada has historically differentiated itself from the US through its loyalty.

Uuuuh just realized that has nothing to do with my opinion of Matt. Um. I like him? He’s real best friend/big brother material, and I do hc him as far more cunning and capable than canon portrays him to be. However, sometimes he’s just...too nice. He doesn’t have that edge that England has that makes me wanna slap him tf up and sob and call him my baby at the same time. Also, as oumaheroes mentioned here, that kind of selflessness can get pretty toxic. After all, by consistently not voicing or examining your own needs, you make it incredibly and unnecessarily frustrating for the people who care about you to help you, and that creates a relationship just as one sided as one where the person is extremely selfish. Actually, now that I think about it, my biggest gripe with Mattie as a character and Canada as a country is in that word: selfless. Without self. Perhaps because Canada is still so young, but it feels a little lost, a little like it doesn’t know quite know yet why it exists.

TLDR: If you’re under 18 or over 60, Canada is the place to be. If, however, you’re like me and wish you could touch a building that’s over 150 years old and maybe visit a square somebody’s been guillotined in, perhaps try someplace else. Personally Portugal’s golden visa is lookin especially tempting lately

#I’m not on my laptop and I don’t know how to add a cut on my phone #so I’m really sorry if this takes up ur dash #I will fix this as soon as I get home #it’s reining again #thanks for indulging me needcake #ask #also rip i was gonna give book recommendations but tbh does Canada even have literature #I mean we do we DO but #uh have you tried Margaret Atwood? lmfao #i mostly read American and European lit and I feel kinda bad about that #Canadian history is...kinda dry tho idk #maybe it’s cuz I learned it in school

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putschki1969 · 4 years ago

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My Experience with Japanese Online Shops, International Shipping and Proxy Services

In the last few months I have ordered from many different Japanese online stores and I have made use of a bunch of new international shipping and proxy services so I thought it would be a good idea to sum up my experiences and write a little review so everyone knows what to expect. Without further ado, let’s get to it.

Content

tenso

Buyee

WorldShopping

HMV International Shipping

CDJapan

Amazon.co.jp

1. tenso.com

A staple for everyone who wants to register for various Japanese services (e.g. fan clubs, streaming platforms, etc) or enjoys shopping in Japanese online shops. It cannot be said often or loud enough how indispensable tenso is for fans of anything Japanese, their service is a true lifesaver! The H-el-ical// Online store even recommends using them! These days many Japanese sites accept foreign payment methods but one thing that’s still almost always required is a Japanese address. And that’s where tenso comes in. They will provide you for free with a Japanese address and phone number which you can use to register on almost any site. You can have your fan club stuff and purchased items sent to that address (the tenso warehouse) and they will then ship it to you. There are not a whole lot of shipping options available but that’s fine. Air Mail is definitely their best offer but if your package is too big you will end up having to choose EMS (which is quite pricey but typically very fast - not during the pandemic tho, at least not for Austria). A big advantage is the possibility to edit the package description. You can lower the value of your items to avoid import taxes and custom fees in your country. Please note that tenso does require an identity verification which might act as a deterrent but I can assure you, they are totally trust-worthy and reliable. I get a LOT of use out of them. Of course I have all my FC related stuff sent to their warehouse but tenso also came in handy for my orders on Tower Records Online, Animate Online and the Universal Shop/H-el-ical Shop/mu-mo Shop.

※ With the exception of the Universal Shop, I was able to pay at all the above mentioned stores with my foreign VISA.

2. Buyee

Another staple and the very first proxy service I ever used. You will need them in all those places that do not accept foreign payment methods (there are still too many out there unfortunately). Their customer service is impeccable and I have never had issues with them. They have gone as far as to contact Japanese stores on my behalf even though it is not part of their usual service. They offer a very wide range of features and shipping options, their service fees are also not too high (although I will admit that they have slightly increased throughout the years). They operate on so many different Japanese online shops, it’s rare to find a big store that does not collaborate with them. Also, if you want to thrift Kalafina related items, THIS is your go-to service. Be it Yahoo Auctions, Mercari or Suruga-ya, you can use Buyee on all those sites. They even have their own English user-interface for some of the major Japanese online stores and you can take advantage of their browser add-on which makes shopping a lot easier. The only downside is that they will not allow edits to the package value so if you live in a bureaucratic country like myself with very strict tax and custom regulations, you will have to make sure to send your packages wisely or just expect to pay quite a lot of fees. This time I used them to order my Wakana cover album copies from Rakuten Books (I REALLY wanted their tokuten). Since Buyee offers the biggest variety of shipping options, I got these copies before anything else, they were here super fast.

※ It’s funny how I am able to register my credit card for Rakuten Pay in order to purchase music on mora.jp but I cannot use that very same credit card to actually buy stuff on Rakuten.

3. WorldShopping

A fairly new service as far as I know but it seems like they are quickly expanding and trying to give Buyee a run for their money. Their banner has been popping up on almost all Japanese sites I have visited in the past few months but up until recently I wasn’t really feeling like trying a new service (I am always hesitant when it comes to new stuff). At least until I found myself in dire need of the Sofmap store specific tokuten for Wakana’s cover album XD. Unfortunately Sofmap does not accept foreign payment methods and Buyee also does not operate on their site so I took a leap of faith and made my purchase through WorldShopping since their banner looked so inviting. It was surprisingly straighforward since they are providing their own interface on the Japanese sites. I didn’t even have to go to the WorldShopping main page to register or anything before using the service. Their fees are acceptable but not exactly low. I was a little wary because I didn’t have a proper account but they did provide a link in the initial email where I could more or less keep track of everything. It took VERY long for my purchased item to be registered at their warehouse (for tenso and Buyee it takes around 1 day) and I didn’t get a notification email that it had arrived so those are not the best aspects of their service. The only shipping method they seem to offer is EMS (which again, is very pricey). Anyways, at the end of the day, my package arrived unscathed in Austria (including the tokuten) so I am a happy camper. While I will probably not be using their service regularly in the future I can still recommend WorldShopping to you with a clear conscience. But please keep in mind to check your status link regularly!

※ Please note that the WorldShipping interface in Japanese online shops overrides the site’s very own purchasing option so if you want to make an order using your own account with your tenso address and a domestic shipping method (let’s say in the mu-mo shop for example) you will have to deactive all WorldShopping services on the page.

4. HMV & BOOKS Online International Shipping

Another first for me. I had no idea they offered international shipping so when I saw the little button on KEIKO’s Lantana page, I couldn’t resist. Since Amazon.co.jp is no longer an option for me, I was desperate to find other stores that offered international shipping and tokutens. Unfortunately, their international shipping service is not a very good replacement for Amazon.co.jp since it takes VERY long. I registered as a guest and made my order without any trouble. I expected them to ship the item on the release day (or the day prior) but that was not the case. I am almost entirely sure that they use a “hidden” proxy service but still promote it as direct shipping. Which is why the process is taking so long. I think it wasn’t until the fifth day after the release date that I finally received the shipping confirmation. Also, don’t get thrown off by weird phrasing in their e-mails. They kept saying that they had shipped “the first part of my order” when in fact there was only one part. Since they only offered EMS as shipping option it once again took quite a while for the package to get to me even though the shipping fee was very high (please note that EMS is typically very fast but as I mentioned earlier, COVID-19 has changed everything). Overall, I can’t really complain about their service, if you are willing to wait a while, HMV International Shipping is definitely worth a try. HMV always have some of the best tokutens so be sure to check it out.

※ I originally tried to register properly but that turned out to be quite complicated so I recommend registering as a guest just like I did.

5. CDJapan

The first site I ever used to order Kalafina-items. I have never had issues with them. They are very reliable and of course the best thing is that they ship directly to your country. However, these days I hardly ever shop at CDJapan anymore because they rarely have tokutens. Also, items you purchase on their site will not be calculated into the daily and weekly sales data for Oricon music charts so that sucks. As you know, I want to support my girls as best as possible (and that means contributing to their chart numbers). Sometimes CDJapan do offer tokutens so they are definitely a viable option for foreign fans. They have lots of payment and shipping methods to choose from and typically their packages arrive very quickly. I bought Hikaru’s RE of “disclose” (only the LE came with tokutens) and one of my “Lantana” copies (CDJapan did in fact have a tokuten for that. YAY).

※ If for some reason, CDJapan isn’t your cup of tea or doesn’t work for you I think YESASIA is a good alternative. However, I haven’t used their service yet so I am not sure how reliable they are. They offer free shipping if your order total exceeds a certain amount so that’s definitely pretty neat!

6. Amazon.co.jp

Amazon.co.jp has been very reliable for the past few years but this year they have really let me down. Just like HMV they do offer an international shipping service but theirs is actually a DIRECT shipping service and it’s SUPER fast. Also they estimate the import/customs fees of your respective country and they charge a deposit which they can use to pay the customs office to speed up the shipping procedure. If this doesn’t happen, packages will usually end up being stuck at customs for a very long time until they have been processed. Last but not least, they often have some of the coolest and most unique tokutens. These are all reasons why I loved to use them but it seems like the pandemic screwed things up for many foreign fans. When I was logged in and checking the product pages of the Kala-solo-releases, they would either show me that everything was out of stock from the get-go or no longer shippable to my country. However, when I wasn’t logged in and checked the Japanese version of the product page I saw that there were in fact still copies available. Now that the pre-order period is over they seem to have restocked a little bit and some versions have finally become available again for foreigners. For example, I could now technically order the LE of “Lantana” with a tokuten. I really wonder why that stuff wasn’t there when I needed it *grumbles*

※ I am not 100% sure if the pandemic caused all these issues but I kinda hope that was the reason because that would mean that next year things will hopefully work fine again. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.

#kalafina #review #tenso #buyee #worldshopping #cdjapan #amazon.co.jp.#shopping in japan #proxy service #international shipping #wakana #keiko #hikaru

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chaletnz · 3 years ago

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Green Card Series: US Embassy Interview

[The first of some posts I wrote about the experience of winning and obtaining a US “green card” in the 2021 DV Lottery.]

As I sat on the metro headed towards my capsule hotel for the evening, I realized that I had forgotten to buy a Letterpack envelope from a post office. In the midst of rushing to Tokyo, going to the outskirts of Shinjuku to pick up my medical report, and coordinating dinner with an ex-colleague I hadn’t seen in 5 years that one little detail had slipped my mind. Unlike Kutchan, where I could’ve ducked into a post office until 7pm on a Thursday night, everything here was closed by 5pm. The panic began to set in with my friend also unable to find an open shop to get one from, but then I found online that the Central Tokyo Post Office would open at 7am. I would have an hour before my interview to take the train down and buy one and make it back in time to gather my documents and walk to the embassy. Of course, it was raining heavily, so heavily that the day after I left there would be reports of rain-induced landslides in Shizuoka that destroyed 80 homes. In fact, the internet was wrong once again and the post office was not open until 9am but inside there was a small kiosk and he sold me a Letterpack without any problem! I clutched it close to me to keep it dry while I walked back to the station and back to my capsule to gather up my documents and make the same walk clutching the plastic folders close to me to the US embassy in Akasaka.

When I arrived one of the guards asked me the time of my appointment and placed me in the queue as he saw fit. I showed my passport and my name was checked on a list of interviewees for the day. I was whisked on to put my umbrella in the rack, and my phone in a small blue basket. As we waited to get inside the security check room I chatted with the friendly guard outside which made me feel very relaxed. My phone screen was wiped with a swab and then sent through a scanner with my folders and small bag. At the other end I took one of their ratty loan umbrellas to cross the courtyard to the actual embassy building. My passport was checked again at the entrance and I was given a list of instructions and told to take a ticket from the machine inside. I arranged my documents in order as per the instructions and borrowed a pen to write my name of the back of my photographs. I approached the counter to submit documents but I think I should’ve just waited because my number was summoned to a counter where a lady asked me for all of my documents in the folder. She asked me if I had visited any other countries in the last two weeks (COVID check), whether I was married, had kids, or had lived in any other countries where I had a criminal record. I answered no to everything and she gave me a slip to pay the visa application fee and told me to return to her with the receipt. It was $330 and I tried to pay with card but as my Japanese card does not have my name on it this was not accepted. Instead I paid cash in Japanese yen (36,300 JPY) which luckily I had withdrawn as a backup while also at the post office – actually it’s not a bad rate! I passed the receipts to the same lady and then she asked me for financial support documents or an affidavit of support. I presented bank statements from 3 of my accounts which she struggled to understand and confirm, so she wrote a note for the attention of the consular officer. Then she told me to sit and wait to be called for interview. Hilarious, because there were only about 5 chairs for 30 people standing waiting. Slowly the crowds filed out and I was able to get a seat after about an hour of standing waiting watching Japanese people get grilled in English and not understand what was happening. “How can you study in the US when you don’t speak English?” I distinctly heard one poor guy get asked.

At last my number flashed and I was summoned to counter 8. I had been telling the universe I wanted to be interviewed by the lady as the bald guy seemed very strict and harsh, and she had approved all the cases before me. She seemed like a cheerful woman in her late 30s with thin blonde hair tied up into a bun, she wore a black facemask and a green and white flowing top with a lanyard around her neck sporting a yellow button with something written on it that I couldn’t read. “Good morning” I greeted as I placed my documents on the ledge. “Morning, how are you?” She had time for pleasantries and she seemed nice.

“Firstly, I’m going to return your original documents and payment receipt. Now please raise your right hand.” I was a bit caught off guard as I had not seen any other people in the hour I was watching ever have to raise their right hand! She recited a pledge and asked me to swear to tell the truth which I did. Next my fingerprints were taken on a little scanner box on the table. Then she got stuck in with the interview.

“Why do you want to move to the US?”

“How long have you lived in Japan?”

“Have you lived in any other countries for more than a year?”

“What work do you do now?”

“Where would you go in the US, what’s your plan?”

“Tell me about your education history after leaving school.”

“A Bachelors is your highest qualification?”

“How much money do you have in savings”

“Do you think that’s enough, to start a new life?”

“Do you have anyone that can support you financially if you need it?”

The one that got me was the “do you think that’s enough [money] to start a new life?”. I hadn’t really intended to start a new life, at least for the first year or so I guess I’m planning to treat the green card like a working holiday. Work, travel, meet people. I’m not sure that I will be starting a new life right away. It also implied to me that she thought I would be living my life indefinitely in the US – is that what most winners do? Suddenly the permanence of the situation was dawning on me. I explained that it would be enough for a few months to find my feet, as an experienced traveller and backpacker primarily I was used to staying in hostels and no frills accommodation. My experience in the hospitality industry was also brought up to convince her that I would be able to support myself by working those crappy jobs no one else wants to do if I had to! By the end of the interview she seemed satisfied and told me the visa was approved and I would receive my passport back in about a week. She invited me to ask questions but I didn’t have any, instead I asked if I could give her an omiyage (a small gift) to thank her but she said she could not accept which was expected actually. That was it, I made my way out of the embassy and gave the omiyage to the friendly guard who I had chatted with earlier and he took it happily.

A brisk walk back through the torrential rain to the train station and I found myself at Harajuku Station ready to enjoy a celebratory lunch at Sarutahiko Coffee above the station entrance. I sat in a cosy corner with a pulled pork sandwich and a latte to spend an hour texting my good news to everyone and gazing longingly at the cats of the cat café across the street lounging in the window. Sarutahiko café was recommended by Paolo in Tokyo who is a big YouTuber for English speakers interested in Japan and I explained that to the cashier who seemed thrilled although, Japanese people can seem thrilled about anything even though they only understand about 10% of what you’re saying... She recommended that I try their specialty coffee beans which have a aroma and flavour like whiskey so I jumped at that! It was a little bit strange (and expensive) but a unique coffee and whiskey combination to celebrate my visa.

#Japan #Tokyo #DV Lottery #Green Card

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yukusaki · 4 years ago

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Would you happen to know if there's other types of job opportunities for someone who wants to work in Japan but has no interest in teaching yet isn't fluent in Japanese for any Japanese-speaking jobs?

Before I get into it, how many of you are interested in this kind of info such as moving to Japan, visas, job searches, etc? I was thinking of doing a podcast for this kind of thing since I clearly like talking so much. Drop me an ask! And I've done a lot of research on visas so feel free to ask me about more details.

This response is kind of for everyone so there might be some info that doesn't really apply to you, anon. I'm assuming you're from the US or for some other reason can't get a working holiday visa in Japan, in which case, I sympathize.

Unfortunately there's nothing I can tell you that you're gonna like. If you're searching from overseas, you'll have to be extremely, extremely lucky to find a non-teaching job that will hire you from outside Japan. Of course, if you have experience in something like programming or engineering, that might be a different story--search in your own field if you have one (I'll link some job search sites I've used below but I can't help too much with info for specific fields). The trick is still going to be getting hired from overseas--sponsoring a visa for a foreign worker is a hassle for a company, and, if the rumors I've heard are to be believed, quite expensive. The good news is that you only have to get sponsored once. After that, you can renew or change jobs much more easily, even if your new job is in a different visa category.

If you're like I was a few years ago and you aren't living in Japan and don't have experience in a highly sought-after field and you don't have another road to a visa (such as a Japanese grandparent), here are the best two options.

Option one

suck it up and get an English teaching job, since it's the only industry I know of that's likely to sponsor your visa. Once you get hired, start looking for another job and leave asap. Like ASAP. Here are some options if you're desperate enough to try teaching:

the JET programme--first just because it's widely known. The application process is lengthy and a huge pain in the ass, as well as quite competitive, and working conditions are supposedly hit or miss but I've heard far more less-than-favorable stories.

Nova--the company I worked for for a year. Offered me a job within a week of the interview with very little teaching experience. Unquestionably the worst job I have ever and will ever have. Unfortunately other private eikaiwa are not rumored to be much better.

Gaba--slightly longer interview process and I guess a bit more competitive since I applied twice, once with no experience and from outside Japan, once with 1 year experience and from inside Japan, and was not offered a job either time. However they will hire English teachers who are not necessarily native speakers, for anyone out there who this might apply to.

Interac, ECC, Berlitz, etc., there's tons of other big eikaiwas.

option two

get a student visa, which obviously requires a bit of money. I imagine a university student visa is not likely to be in your plan, anon, but you can also get the other category which includes technical schools and language schools. If you're interested in learning Japanese, try gogonihon--they have a variety of Japnese schools and if I remember correctly will give you some amount of support. If you're interested in some other vocational school, you might have to do it on your own. You can legally search for a job once you're in japan with a student visa. You can also work most part-time jobs with a student visa as long as you apply for the permit at the airport when you land in Japan (applying later is still possible but takes a few weeks). I would highly recommend a hotel job or something else that might be able to sponsor a visa--I know a person or two that was offered a full-time job after working at a hotel part time for a while, but idk how common it is.

If you do go one of the two above routes, the best industry to get a job in from within Japan without much Japanese, and assuming no other marketable experience (in my opinion), is tourism, specifically hotels and guesthouses.

Some sites I used when job searching:

Gaijinpot--well-known, has support for jobs as well as apartments and such. Some jobs may offer visa sponsorship.

Yolojapan--another fairly well-known one

indeed--tons of jobs but a bit of a tossup. Includes all jobs so you'll have to search for ones that don't require Japanese.

gogonihon--another kind of catch-all service that will help with housing as well. I didn't personally use them for job searching but I attended a language school through them.

jobsinjapan--don't remember much about them but I did search on there occasionally

nipponshigoto--the website seemed to have changed hands halfway through my job search so I don't know if this is still true, but they had the most non-English-teaching options that I can remember. I ended up getting my current travel agency job through them.

Keep in mind

a job visa requires a 4-year degree (or equivalent?) That's a requirement for the visa, not the job. You might not be totally out of luck if you don't have a 4-year degree though, so just do some research.

a non-university student visa is good for two years total, in your whole lifetime. Not two years at a time, two years, ever. Don't dilly-dally if you go this route!

finally, a warning

I doubt I'm the first person to tell you how difficult it is to move to Japan, but it's really something you need to keep in mind. There's a lot of processes and laws you have to know about that no one is going to help you with--not even the company that hired you or the school you're enrolled in. Not even the services that claim they will. These processes and laws are not just when you first move to Japan, but will haunt you as long as you live here. Staff at the immigration office don't even seem to speak much english, let alone local city and tax offices. Really think about why you want to live in Japan and make sure you aren't going to regret it when you're sitting outside the tax office in tears because you've explained your situation six times over two visits, both of which you had to take time off work for, but they still can't help you and can't even point you in the right direction but if you don't figure it out you're in trouble. Yes, that did happen to me and I speak N2 level Japanese (if your eikaiwa has a direct hire contract and an independent contractor contract like nova does, do NOT pick the Independent one even if you'll get paid more, please I'm begging you, I promise it is not worth it and also its legality is questionable.) I cannot stress enough how much you need to really think about this.

If none of these options appeals to you

don't give up! These are only the options that I personally know of. Also, Japan has a population time bomb on their hands, so they're more motivated to let in foreigners so that the country doesn't just collapse when they don't have any young people left. it's gotten easier in recent years to get certain types of visa and it's not unlikely that it will continue to get easier in the future.

Good luck anon! Tell me how it goes and feel free to ask me any more questions!! I didn't go through moving to Japan to not help others have an easier time than I did!

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littlepanduh-writes-365 · 4 years ago

Text

Day 47

Title: “Notification”

Description: Tzuyu gets a notification that says “A Very Important Date <3”. She’s been meaning to delete that ever since they broke up 8 months ago. She wonders why she hasn’t done so.

Features: Satzu (Twice)

Word Count: 1,804

Tags: Angst | College AU

In the middle of the university library, Chou Tzuyu sits at a desk and types away on her laptop. A textbook for the film class is open to a chapter about the impact of silent films. Her phone sits above the book.

Tzuyu’s eyes are trained to her laptop screen when her phone flashes. It’s on silent, but it’s not on do not disturb mode in case of an emergency. The next time it flashes, she’s rereading a few sentences from her textbook, ignoring the activity on her lock screen. She goes back to typing, but her flashing phone is finally distracting her.

Determined to finish her thought, she holds back. It can’t be that important. If anything, it’s her group mates trying to divy up work for their project.

Suddenly, the memory of Chaeyoung and Yuqi, her roommates, setting their apartment on fire infiltrates her concentration. She decides to at least finish her sentence.

Finally, she pushes her laptop away and eyes her phone. She takes a sip of water in an attempt to prepare herself for the onslaught of messages.

As she expected, it was just her group mates telling each other what portions were done for the project. Tzuyu sighs as she reads the thread because she knows that she’s admittedly slacking on her part. She tries to think if she can squeeze in some time to work on it today, but this paper has been her highest priority since the due date is next week and she needs someone to proofread her paper before submitting.

Tzuyu scrolls past the messages from her group mates. There’s a notification about a sale at her favorite bakery. There’s a few notifications from social media.

There’s a calendar reminder.

A Very Important Date <3

Two weeks from now.

Tzuyu feels her heart ache.

She tries her best to push it back, but she’s feeling blindsighted.

When they broke up, it didn’t cross her mind to delete the event because she rarely uses that feature on her phone. At the time of their break up, she just wanted to get through the semester. Of course, there were countless nights of crying in her apartment and missing classes, but that was eight months ago. She should be over it.

Tzuyu tries to fight it, but she can’t.

Their anniversary was already planned in her head. They talked about it for so long.

Reliving it was like a falling back into a bad habit.

It was a Saturday, so there was no need to take time off from work or skip class. Tzuyu was going to make reservations at a Taiwanese restaurant for lunch. She was going to cook a traditional Japanese dinner. During the day, they would just fool around at the Han River. Maybe they’d take pictures. Maybe they’d ride bikes. Tzuyu wasn’t one for PDA, but she would accept it that day because she knows her ex had such a hard time holding back for her and she secretly loves it anyways.

Would she have worn a blouse with a tie since it’s an important day? Maybe she’ll just wear a denim jacket and a coat since Tzuyu still is a college student and it’s still cold.

Maybe they would’ve kissed in the rain. Tzuyu always fantasized about it, despite hearing bad reviews of being wet and cold and getting sick after.

It didn’t matter to Tzuyu. The day was just supposed to be them. Be it rainy or clumsy, it was just going to be the two of them. That’s what made Tzuyu happy.

She knows it’s not a good idea, but Tzuyu opens up her Instagram. She skips checking on her notifications and goes straight to the search bar.

“Sana Minatozaki”

There’s a new profile picture. Tzuyu can’t read the bio since it’s in Japanese and not in Korean anymore.

The profile is still public and she can see the latest pictures. They mostly consist of food or presumably dance performances.

There’s a picture that catches her eye. Sana is smiling with her eyes closed and another girl is kissing her cheek. She taps the picture to see the profile of the other girl. It belongs to Hirai Momo and Tzuyu thinks the name sounds familiar.

Tzuyu pretends the green monster in her doesn’t exist.

That monster questions her with more what if’s.

What if she’s not a girlfriend? What if she makes her happy?

What if Sana stayed?

Suddenly, she’s taken back to that night. They were in her car. There were no tears, but she knew both of them wanted to cry.

“It’s for the best.”

Tzuyu agreed.

Sana was moving back to her home country next year. She had planned to stay in Korea for a little longer, but she was struggling to find a job here, let alone struggle through getting a work visa. Tzuyu wished Sana could try a little harder, but she understands it’s not easy to look for work. With her situation, they might as well break up now and let Sana enjoy her last year rather than getting more attached and having a harder time breaking up.

It really was for the best.

She didn’t want it though.

Why didn’t she tell Sana?

“I still love you. You really mean a lot to me.”

Tzuyu wants to scream at her. How can you say that you love me when you’re breaking up with me?

She doesn’t see Sana when she exits her car. When she finally looks, all she sees is her hunched back. A body slowly walking to her apartment.

Tzuyu’s mind races back to the why’s and what if’s but she shoves them back to the far corner in her heart, next to the space that didn’t tell herself to delete the stupid reminder on her phone.

Maybe she shouldn’t push it back again, especially since she regressed this far, but it’s something she knows she needs to do.

This paper won’t write itself.

That’s what she tells herself anyways.

It’s understandable that Tzuyu’s efficiency was absolutely horrible. Her sentences were choppy and didn’t flow well together. Every time she needed to read something from her textbook, she would just space out. When she forces herself to focus, Sana just pops in her head.

How is she? Did she find work? Is she dating Momo or are they just close friends? Does she talk to anyone else from school or our exchange program group?

No.

This isn’t good.

After a few more sentences, she picks her phone up one more time. She taps on the calendar app and looks for the actual date of the anniversary. When the event opens, she scrolls down to bottom and stares at the bright red lights.

Delete Event

Her finger hovers over the buttons. She lightly taps it with a shaky hand.

Are you sure you want to delete this event? This is a repeating event.

Tzuyu stares at the two options. Her brain says yes, but her heart says no. Tears are starting to form in her eyes.

She’s thinking about her smile. She’s remembering the warmth and comfort. She’s recollecting memories in their Korean language class and dates at the bubble tea shop.

Delete This Event Only

Delete All Future Events

A tear drops on her phone. She wipes it off and hurriedly wipes her face, too. Crying in the middle of the library sadly wasn’t uncommon, but it would still attract worried eyes.

Tzuyu looks back at her phone, only to see an empty calendar. In disbelief, she taps the date on the calendar, only to see an open day. She scrolls the next year only to see that the calendar was free, too.

It’s gone.

Her body doesn’t feel so tight anymore, but a gnarly headache is forming and maybe she can work on her paper later.

She starts packing up her laptop and bookmarks her textbook before shutting it and stuffing it into her backpack. Tears are falling from her face and she’s audibly sniffing, but she doesn’t care anymore. Honestly, she doesn’t even know if what she’s feeling is pain or relief.

“Tzuyu! Are you leaving? Can I have your spot?”

Tzuyu looks up from the voice that called out her name. It’s Jinsook, someone in her project group.

Jinsook catches up to her and Tzuyu just stares at her. She tries to muster up a response, but her throat is tight and it’s taking a lot of energy to not bawl at the moment.

Her groupmate seems to catch on. Tzuyu’s eyes and nose are red and puffy. Her eyes grew with concern. Normally, Tzuyu would feel guilty, but all she wants is to leave the library.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Tzuyu bites her lip. She nods, but not without a tear escaping. Like a reflex, she wipes her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Once again, she lets out another loud sniff.

Jinsook puts an arm on her shoulder and rubs her arm. Before Tzuyu can speak, she takes a deep breath. She has no idea how she’s going to explain this to her colleague. “Yeah, I’m just, uh, going through something right now.”

Her group mate nods. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tzuyu bites her lip in contemplation. Ultimately, she shakes her head. “I just need to be by myself right now.” She offers a sad smile. “Thanks though.”

Jinsook returns the smile. “I know we’re just groupmates, but I’m here for you.”

Tzuyu nods back. “Hey, um, I know I’ve been behind on my part of my project, but I promise to work on it soon.”

Jinsook shakes her hand. “Don’t even worry about it. Things like this happen. We’re doing good on time anyways.”

Relief enters Tzuyu’s body. She doesn’t know if Jinsook is lying just to ease her stress, but it’s working and she won’t complain about it. Part of her wants to hug Jinsook, but she knows that’s a little out of character and she just wants to be home right now.

“You can take my desk.” Tzuyu bows at her before she leaves.

---------

Tzuyu takes the long way to the bus stop. Part of it was so then walking would clear her mind and so people on the bus didn’t have to see her cry.

Her mind is jumbled. One side is asking where things went wrong and another side is telling her to “just move on”. She questions why she can’t move on and what she should do about it.

Eventually, an hour passes and she really should go home right now. She pulls out her phone, ignoring any more notifications.

She goes straight to her messaging application and looks for a group chat with her roommates.

Any of you guys home?

I just need a good cry right now.

#this has been in my wip document for 7 months #based on true events #idk if i should be writing about my ex #but tbh i never really talked about him even with my friends so this is a nice outlet #anyways if youre going through a breakup please take as much time as you need #its not easy to go through especially as a student #take care #365 Challenge #littlepanduh #satzu #tzuyu #sana #twice fanfiction #also random blurbs of yeri from rv and yeoreum from wjsn

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leaveharmony · 4 years ago

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would love to know about some of kennys other offenses. please.

Boy howdy nonners, how long have ya got lol

Alright so I was never...A Fan, to begin with. I tolerated him even if I found him irritating in a lot of ways.

The real Problems I had w/ him started at the first press conference after he won the Heavyweight title; that night jericho won the Intercontinental and (fucking) elgin won the NEVER; kenny basically outright said that three (white) guys from Canada just "wanted it more" than the domestic roster. That he "never sees" the Japanese wrestlers at the gym, that they're "complacent" and that's why they were outshone. Everybody lost their minds. A good friend was trying to gently tell him "Bro you're better than this, you really should have chosen your words more carefully here because that could really, super be interpreted as racist" And he directly responded RE "Please don't look for any 'hidden' racist meaning..." and basically doubled down, and then stood back & watched all his followers bully the shit out of my friend for like a week solid, for the crime of daring to question his choice of words. She didn't even call HIM a racist, just suggested he could maybe be more mindful when talking directly to western fans bc there's always been a miles-long racist streak in wrestling in general and him talking that way when so many ppl accept what he says as gospel wasn't helping.

There was the bodyshaming...that wasn’t a one-time thing, either, but I digress.

There was the absolute debacle when Meltzer got involved w/ an article RE after kenny left he had "visa problems" ...you have to walk that back to the press conference between Tana and kenny before WK (iirc) wherein kenny claimed he'd gotten his citizenship and felt like he was now "real Japanese." Which was...kinda yikes in and of itself, but after all that shook out and he took his ball and went home it transpired that it was a flat-out lie, and he'd actually gotten like, a permanent residency. Now: that meant, so long as he had a company sponsoring him he enter and leave Japan as he pleased w/ that paperwork. Only he quit NJPW. So they were no longer sponsoring him, but he was still trying to enter the country w/ this visa/status he had absolutely no claim to anymore because he gave it up when he no longer had that position w/ their company. This turned into a whole ridiculous conspiracy theory RE NJPW was somehow pulling strings to "get him banned from the country for ten years." The ten years figure was...actually how long he'd have to wait before reapplying for the status he lost, as was explained to me by someone who actually had some experience in the area. How much of that nonsense actually came from kenny’s own mouth right to Meltzer's ears? Hard to say, and it MAY have been a miscommunication that got printed as fact, but all Himself would say was a dramatic "Someday I'll tell you all about how my year was SO MUCH WORSE than rumoured." All he had to do was say 'Guys no I just ran into some red tape, NJPW has nothing to do with it' but instead he had to fuel the gossip of a mysterious, malicious conspiracy against him and cast the mean, cruel company who...let him leave when he quit...as the relentless villain bullying him out of the country. This sounds like an exaggeration but he did, actually, have some stupid video based on Undertale (I think?) made in which there was a knockoff Lion’s Mark literally playing the villain. It was...extremely embarrassing tbh. And he may even believe it, who knows? He may actually believe he was pushed out because he was a ~foreigner~ they refused to take seriously; his ego is big enough that I’d not be surprised.

Sometimes istg he even gaslights himself; I remember when he said Shinsuke "hasn't done anything compelling" since leaving for wwe (as though Shinsuke books himself lol)...but then before aew formed, but after he left NJPW, he kept claiming that if he went to wwe he'd be able to put on a seven-minute clinic every show, with the scraps of screentime they throw him...that everybody would be talking about him and only him, that he’d ‘enjoy’ the creative restrictions...as though he didn’t like, walk out on their developmental years ago because of all those restrictions :/

Just last year he was still bitching that Shinsuke never dropped the Intercontinental directly TO him, instead vacating it for a tournament. Because Shinsuke was "one of their guys," because he always has to have a Special Connection to everyone...as though when this man was about to take a huge step and start a new life, what everybody should really have been thinking about was "Gosh but what about kenny though, shouldn't he have had the distinction of beating him directly for it?" And notably that’s all he’s said about Shinsuke since he left. Never brings him up when ppl ask who he’d like to see in aedubya, nothing like that...so I mean, so much for special connections or respect lol. Respect only goes one way for him.

There was certainly the time he booked a convicted sex offender! For one of his lil pet shows. And when ppl called him on it he immediately got defensive and took issue with their "tone" and how they were ~judging him~ without having full information, and if they wanted him to respond politely they should speak kindly and politely to him first (again you’d think I’m exaggerating but that is actually what he said, try being kind and polite). It took maybe a day of fighting people on twitter before he acted like a fucking adult about that one, even if his sullen "apology" still came off like it had an unspoken "...even though I didn't do anything wrong personally" tacked on the end.

There was his fucking...infuriating white saviour complex RE how with him Steering the Ship NJPW would be unstoppable. There was his ludicrous claim that "Tanahashi's never done anything for international fans"...conveniently omitting that if it weren't for Tana, there wouldn't have been a company left to hire his skank ass, let alone one for there to be international fans OF. There was his wink wink nudge nudge way of trying to play both sides; acting Respectful and like a Good Guy when he gave comments in Japanese and essentially going "SIKE!" in english so the neckbeards knew he didn’t really think he wasn’t the only thing worth watching. He made a point of saying during that feud that if they dared put Tana over him the company would be "going backwards," and then made a point of saying he "Can't work under Tanahashi" as he left - a last cheap parting shot to make sure everybody knew who to 'blame' for him tragically leaving.

He straight up said the whole native roster should "thank me for their paycheques" because of course kenneth omegaman is the only one anyone is paying to see, no one else could possibly be interesting enough to tune in for, only him.

I remember when he was hilariously claiming that LIJ would never catch on for the western audience and Naito would never be popular here lol.

He bitches, somehow, simultaneously about not having been made leader of the bullet club soon enough (having to step aside for aj), and that "before the first Okada match" he was making more money from prowrestlingtees than he was from his contract (as though making him leader of the most visible western faction and essentially giving him a license to print money in the process somehow wasn't enough).

Like two years after he left he is still! Taking every chance he can get! To shit on NJPW. He and the fucking bucks were still shit-talking Harold, ffs, years after they left.

....I feel like Marge when Reverand Lovejoy was asking her to list grievances about Homer. He probably does blow his nose on towels and put them back in the cupboard, too, but only in other people’s houses :P

Anyway that’s off the top of my head.

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yuzusorbet · 5 years ago

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A beautiful and moving fan account of GPF Torino 2019, by a fan who lives in Turin, Italy.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY ONE

Yuzu is in my town. Yuzu is in my town. I can’t quite believe it: I’m having breakfast and can’t quite believe it, I go out and can’t quite believe it, I get on the subway and… yes, I start to believe it, since I’m surrounded by Poohs. So many Asian women, so many Skate Canada/FaOI/Continue with Wings bags. When I get off, I can feel the thrill: in less than one hour, I’m going to see Yuzu live! In my town! As soon as I reach the Palavela, I meet other fans: some I met last year in Helsinki, some I never met before, but it doesn’t matter. Here we are, all for Yuzu, all with Yuzu, hoping and feeling and praying and focusing for him and with – and that’s something so strong that all the differences between us – country, age, social/economical/cultural status – disappear. It’s just so beautiful (and important) to be here, together, when Yuzuru is skating at the Grand Prix Final. At last. I find a good seat – mine is not bad, but there are better places where I can settle down and watch the practice – and wait for Yuzu. The arena is not totally full but there are many people here anyway: (nearly) all for Yuzu? A roaring, thunderous shout is the answer: YES! And Yuzu has just appeared… alone. Where’s Brian, or Tracy, or Ghislain? Nobody knows, at the moment. He puts his beloved Pooh on the balustrade, then waits for the Zamboni to resurface the ice, and finally enters the rink: he bends down, touches the ice, and takes off. Yes, I can’t find another way to tell what he does: does he skate? For sure. Does he dance? Definitely. But he flies. The impression is there’s always some room between his blades and the ice, an inch of air allowing him to just float. And the noise he makes on the ice is just so different from the noise made by all the other skaters… you could close your eyes and tell when Yuzu is skating just listening to him. But of course it’s so mesmerizing to watch him: when you see him live, you catch something that you can guess even watching his videos, but that is so strong and obvious here. You can call it aura, or charisma: something so overwhelming that I feel blessed and hypnothised at the same time. The practice goes by very fast. Yuzu skates… what to say? He fell a couple of times; he pops a couple of jumps (one at the beginning of Origin run-through); his skating is so graceful, though, and solid, and pure, that no fall and no popped jump can damage its beauty at all. Moreover, he had so many outstanding moments: all his 4S and 4T and 3A; the 4T-euler-3F sequence; an unusual 3A-3A sequence; the 4Lo he lands (majestic)… and the 4Lz he lands (royal)! Really: as soon as I understand he’s going to jump a 4Lz, I cross all of my fingers and clench my teeth and… and he jumps. Cleanly, beautifully. Never underestimate Mr. Hanyu: I’d better remember Brian’s words. Finally, he cools down. A slow Italian song, Di sole e d’azzurro (“Of sun and light blue”) by Giorgia, is filling the arena. Yuzu gets in tune with it and starts his usual sequence: grand pliés, arabesques, ports de bras… in this moment, he really looks, he is Baryshnikov on ice. I don’t know how he can do it, but he’s able to fill my heart with fire and calm at the same time. Maybe it’s “just” beauty, or poetry. Maybe it’s “just” love.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY TWO: SHORT PROGRAM

How hard it is to write today, I’m not even sure I should. I drink some more tea and check my watch: it’s 11 pm. I should work a bit. Maybe writing will heal my heart a bit, though, so okay, let’s start. Let’s go back to Thursday. The day of the short program. I reach the Palavela at 6.15 p.m. I was here for Yuzu’s practice in the morning – and it was so good: my favourite training outfit (black and grey shirt), some stunning jumps (the 4Lutz!), the impression that he’s floating in kind of a bubble of brightness – and now I’m back. There’s no queue and I get quickly into the arena. There are Chinese fans providing small banners to cheer for Yuzu. There are people gathered at the Edea stand, taking picture by a big poster of Yuzu. There’s an Italian man (a volunteer from the Palavela staff, I’d say) giving out pictures of Yuzu, with a long queue of ladies in front of him. And there are so many Poohs, everywhere. I just love this context, this atmosphere, but I can’t ignore the tension that is slowly making its way inside me. A couple of hours and Yuzu will compete. I can’t wait to see him, but at the same time I don’t want to see him. I want to pay my most heartfelt tribute to the most amazing skater in history, but I know I’ll quake with fear. How can I feel like that for someone I don’t even know personally? I think about that bubble of brightness, the sound of his blades, the grace of his arms, the fire in his eyes: of course I can, for someone like Yuzu.

Time to reach my seat and watch the opening ceremony. Time to wait for Yuzu. A presenter who speaks a bad English – and I wait for Yuzu. Some famous Italian skaters who perform nicely – and I wait for Yuzu. The pairs’ short program – and I wait for Yuzu. Some more minutes. And here he is, for the warm-up. Still alone with his Pooh. Since yesterday , the rumours about Ghislain’s absence are never ending – he had an accident, he’s got problem with his visa, what kind of visa does he need to come to Italy?? – but they end now. Yuzuru is there, and when he takes off his Japan jacket and reveals his costume, he looks like a dream from my childhood: my mother would read me a fairy tale before sleeping, and when I closed my eyes I would think (or dream already) of princes and castles and singing birds and starry nights… and in this very moment, with his costume sparkling like a constellation, Yuzuru is almost the incarnation of that enchanted realm I envisioned when I was young and innocent, and so happy. And I would probably lose myself into that dream, if I wasn’t aware of the fact that the short program is going to start. Yuzuru will be the last one to take the ice. Before, I watch the other five skaters: Boyang Jin, Dmitri Aliev, Alexander Samarin, Kevin Aymoz – and, of course, Nathan Chen. He’s good but not perfect: his 4Lz looks pre-rotated, the exit from his 3A is a bit problematic, the second jump of his combination is short and definitely not effortless. But he scores more than 110 points. Just a handful of hundredths behind Yuzu’s record. What, how, why? I look at Eleonora, an Italian fan sitting by my side, and I know that my face must show the same feelings displaying on hers: awareness and wistfulness. It’s the same old story, isn’t it? As long as Yuzuru and Nathan do not compete directly against each other, Yuzuru’s scores are way higher than Nathan’s; but as soon as they share the same ice, the scoring system seems to turn upside down. Yuzu, oh, Yuzu … He’s on the ice, taking his starting position. The first note of Otoñal fills the arena – nothing else can be heard, not even the occasional coughing here and there. Yuzu, oh, Yuzu, please… Some steps, some transitions, 4S. Natural like a leaf floating in the tranquil stream of a river. Twizzles, 3A, twizzles. Pure harmony. We all wait for the last jumps, the combination. 4T… and no triple. No triple. Manuela and I look at each other. What score will these judges award to this program? To two perfect jumps, and a perfect step sequence, and perfect spins, and an obvious mistake? The answer comes soon: 97.43 points. 13 points behind Nathan. Can Yuzu still win, with these judges? Because I still haven’t look at the protocol, but it’s clear that he didn’t get the points he deserved for the Salchow, the Axel, the spins. And I’m quite sure that, even if he had been perfect, he would have earned something like 111, or 112 – no more than that. And I am sad. And angry. And I need to talk, to talk a lot, like every time I feel sad and angry. It’s a good thing that I’m not alone in front of my PC but amongst hundreds of fanyus, so we can share our sadness, our anger, and talk, talk a lot: while my friend Paolo and I walk to the subway station, while we find out that the subway isn’t working at the moment, while we call a taxi, while we share the fare with two Germans and a Japanese… …but as soon as I get off the taxi and start walking home, all my sadness and anger calm down. They don’t disappear; they just shrink to give room to something – someone – much more important: Yuzu. I wonder how he’s feeling now. Mad at himself, disappointed, too tired to feel anything else than an urgent need to just go to bed and sleep? And Ghislain is not there… Oh, Yuzu, how I would like to do something for you; something useful, not only feeling this dull pain in my chest and complaining about the scores. If only I could, I would give you a hug – to comfort you, to protect you. Or maybe I would take your hand and take you to the Po river. It’s quite close, you know? And there’s a beautiful park, called Valentino, with meadows descending gently to the water. We would watch the river flow for a while, talking only if you wished to, then I would take you to Fiorio. Have someone told you about this ancient café in the centre of Turin? There are old huge mirrors, armchairs in red velvet, big rococo chandeliers, and a creaking wooden floor; we could sit there, order a hot chocolate or their famous gianduia (hazelnuts +chocolate) ice-cream; and for a few moments, for only a few moments, you could close your eyes, savour that new, creamy taste on your tongue, and forget about those damn 13 points, that damn combo… but probably you don’t want to forget, do you? You want to understand what happened, and why, and plan what you have to do now. Just don’t spend the whole night watching your SP again and again, right? Oh God, I sound like an old auntie. I open the door of my apartment. Sadness and anger are like a faint but constant throb in my stomach. Will I be able to sleep, tonight? I’m not sure, but it’s not so important. What’s important, is that Yuzu can sleep, and Ghislain arrives in Torino, and the judges come to their senses. Have sweet dreams, Yuzu, my wonderboy.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY THREE: QUAD AXEL

Fear. Joy. Worry. Fury. Emotion. What a day, the third day of the Grand Prix Final. And yet, it was supposed to be a quiet day, for us fanyus: no competition, only some practice. When it comes to Yuzu, though, quietness looks scarily like a storm, and there’s nothing we can do about it: there’s no way to be even remotely prepared to all the ideas, visions, plans and dreams that cross Yuzu’s mind and that he chooses to act out. That’s why I’m more or less calm, when I get to the Palavela. “More or less” because I had a tough night: I kept on tossing and turning in my bed, thinking about the short program, constantly grabbing and turning off my phone – eager to read anything the web could provide me about it, and scared by possible haters and nasty posts. So now I’m still sad and angry, but also too tired to have very strong feelings: sadness is a dull, feeble pain in my chest, anger a whisper that I try to ignore. I queue, get inside, talk with some friends. A few minutes, and Yuzu appears. Alone with Pooh: so Ghislain hasn’t arrived yet. Gosh, it’s all so wrong. The scores, the absence of Yuzu’s coach… we are in the middle of the Grand Prix Final and there were a bunch of bad omens already. No, I don’t want to be so negative. Yuzu needs to feel, to breath optimism and trust. Think positive, Alessandra; for the sake of Yuzu, think beautiful, think glorious! But it’s Yuzu, the one who’s beautiful and glorious. I always loved all kinds of practices and rehearsals: when some ballet company comes to my town, I always try and ask permission to attend a class, or some rehearsal. I love to see a work in progress, and all the commitment and efforts that artists, dancers and athletes put into their performances. No costumes, no lights, sometimes not even music: just the focus, sweat and love needed to succeed. When practicing, Yuzuru is like that, of course, but he also has – is – something different. The way he can look incredibly focused – and actually a bit dangerous – and turn suddenly into a playful child. The long talks he has with himself. His ability to ignore all the people watching him, just to thank everyone with a deep bow. His unexpected smiles, his gloved fingers pointing here and there while he’s planning and calculating who knows what. The lightness of his warm-ups, the grace of his cool-downs. When you watch him practice, it’s like watching a painter create a masterpiece right in front of you: his (sometimes bizarre) rituals, his methods, some surprises, the development of his work – art coming to life stroke by stroke, bit by bit: and you realize how big the privilege is to witness greatness in the making. So, warm-up. Jumps. No spins (has Yuzu ever done a spin in any practice?). Run-through. Other jumps. And then. He has just tried a new sequence for the free skate, 3A3A; so, when he skates in my direction, I think that he will try that sequence again: oh yes, he’s preparing an Axel. Then he throws himself into the jump and pops it, landing heavily on two feet. Ouch, I hope it was not painful as it looked… he skates around the rink, then again in my direction. Does he want to try the Axel again? He throws himself into the jump and pops it, landing heavily on two feet… Wait. He’s not popping his jumps. He’s jumping like this on purpose. And he jumps so high. Okay, his Axels are always very high, but now he’s really taking off as if he wanted to touch the roof with his fingers! I turn to Lys and Giovanna, who sit behind me. We look at each other, knowingly. Yes. Yuzu is practicing the 4A. As if he wanted to confirm what we’re thinking, he throws himself into the jump again, but this time he doesn’t pop it: he rotates it. One rotation, two, three, four… he lands before completing the last half turn, crashing on the ice. A collective gasp runs through the audience, someone screams, I grab and squeeze Lys’ calf in my hands. Oh God, Yuzu, stop it. Oh no, Yuzu, don’t stop it, let me see it again. No no no, on the contrary, don’t do it, be careful. Well, be careful but try once again… and he tries: another jump, under rotated as well, another fall. The audience is hypnotized. Someone shouts, someone cries, but it sounds like nobody could break the silence surrounding Yuzu. He seems alone now, as if no skater was in the rink but him. He skates in my direction again, and I count every second, one two three four five, until he jumps again. One rotation, two, three, four… and a half. Four and a half. Then he lands and crash on the ice again. But he made it. He has just jumped a quad Axel.

And the Palavela explodes. Shouts, cries, applause, people standing, people frozen in their seats, people scared, people happy, people who don’t fully understand what happened, but we all sense the truth: today, we were so lucky to witness history in the making. The practice is over, and Yuzu exits the rink followed by the loudest applause ever – and the longest too: our jubilation began way before he took his bows. When he disappears, everybody starts talking about his 4A. Someone’s almost mad at him (“I hope his mom is going to slap some sense into him!”), someone’s reverently astonished (“Have you seen the height of that quad? How much it was, about 95 centimetres?”), we all look on the edge of a nervous breakdown. It was supposed to be a quiet day, wasn’t it? But we should have known better than this. Because it’s Yuzu, and Yuzu always wants to climb higher walls, to aim for wider goals; to go beyond the horizon of what is possible for us, normal human beings. And this is one of the reasons why he is who he is; this is one of the reasons why we love him so much. There are winners, but he’s a champion. There are athletes, but he’s a history maker. And I left the Palavela with tears in my eyes, vibrant love in my heart.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY FOUR: FREE SKATE

So here I am, not really ready for… how should I call it? The showdown? Maybe. Who are the main characters in this fight, though? Yuzu and Nathan? Yuzu and the judges, more likely. And I’m not sure it’s going to be a fair fight. No matter if the knight in his shining armour has a marvellous sword made of an outstanding technical value and of wonderful components: his opponent can be petty and play dirty, and only in fairy-tales Good always triumphs over Evil. The free skate is about to begin. The morning has been long and tiring already: we all had to queue in the dark and in the cold before Yuzu’s practice at 7 am (thank God I met some friends, like Petra and Astrid, so that I could talk a bit and I didn’t have to queue by myself, alone and anxious), then there was a collective scream when Ghislain made his appearance in the arena (he’s here! He’s here! FINALLY!!), then… well, then there was Yuzu’s practice, and watching Yuzu live is always an unique experience, no matter what he’s doing: it’s like when you’re a child and for the first time you see something unknown which surprises and bewitches you – Peter Pan is on stage and Tink is going to die, unless you clap your hands and shout: “ I do believe in fairies!”, full of emotions and on the brim of tears… After the practice I went home, walked my dogs, worked a bit: everything just to keep anxiety at bay. Now I should be tired, and probably I am; but I’m too nervous, and I have too much adrenaline running in my blood, to feel tired. I just want to see Yuzu skate. I just want to see Yuzu happy with his performance. I just want to see Yuzu win? Of course: because I want him to be happy, and I know how important for his happiness it is to win; because he’s the best skater in the whole world, and I’d like him to be acknowledged as the king he is. But CAN he win? I’m afraid not. I’m afraid that he can win only if Nathan falls, more than one time and quite hard: not just with his hands or his knee on the ice, but with his whole body… is that what I want? Do I really want Nathan to fail so badly? I wish I could instantly say: no, of course I don’t want it. But I must confess that I can’t, and I hate this unfair scoring system for this reason too: because it awakens the darkest part of me, and pulls out of me my worst feelings and thoughts. I’ve seen so many figure skating competitions, and I’ve always hoped that all the skaters could skate clean – may the best win! Since the 2018-2019 skating season, though, as the new scoring system showed more and more its limits and its unfairness, I found out how hard it is for me to go beyond my own limits, to be fair and good. So, while I’m waiting for the skaters to make their appearance in the arena, I try to think “May the best win”, but I’m not convinced. Nathan, I’m sorry, but could you please fall? Not too hard, okay, but could you undoubtedly, unquestionably fall? Or at least make several obvious mistakes, so that the so-called judges can see who’s the real king of figure skating? Oh, God, I hate myself. I have no time to blame myself, though: the music signalling the beginning of the competition suddenly resounds in the whole arena, louder than ever, and the lights go down. While the speaker is announcing what we’re about to see, there’s a collective start: the skaters are gathered just outside the rink. In the dim light I can’t tell who’s who, I just see some distant heads, but I recognise Yuzu immediately. I can’t see his features very well, but I could recognise him even if he was amongst a thousand people in the dark. The simple way he stands is so peculiar. So elegant. And when he enters the rink for the warm-up and bows to the audience, he looks so noble and proud: he’s aware that all eyes are on him, all hearts are with him. Is this awareness giving him strength? Or is it a burden? In a moment like this, when there’s so much at stake for him, I would like – I would need – how I should behave to help him as much as possible. Screaming his name until I lose my voice? Clapping my hands politely and nothing more? If only I could know the answer; if only I could be of use for you, Yuzu… …and the warm-up is over. Already? Yes, already. And I cannot watch the first four skaters, not really, because I’m waiting for Yuzu, and skater after skater my heart beats faster and my hands get sweaty and cold. I’m so full of fear, and anticipation, and love. May the best win: may Yuzu win. And there he is. So handsome that watching him I feel my eyes burn like when I try and look at the sun. May Yuzu win. So dear to my heart that I want to see him but somehow I can’t stand seeing him, so I put a hand on my eyes and watch him through my fingers, just like a child watching a scary movie. May Yuzu win… 4Lo: perfect. 4Lz: perfect as well. 3Lz: perfect again. 4S: per-fect… I’m watching the competition live so I can’t see how the judges are scoring each element of Yuzu’s skate, and I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse; anyway, so far he’s been outstanding, the judges have to give him very high GOE… 4T+euler+3F. Step out, maybe the 3F was a bit under rotated? Come on, Yuzu. 4T+…2T. He’s tired. But the quad was fantastic. Come on, Yuzu, you can do it, only the sequence 3A+3A is missing… alright, here comes his trademark, the counter back, and then… single Axel. Okay Yuzu, it’s okay, just go on, go on! Last spin. Final pose – and Yuzu can’t take it anymore, he’s so tired that the final pose lasts for less than one second, then he puts his arms and forehead on the ice, gasping for air. This is not an asthma attack, right? For a moment, I gasp for air too. Then Yuzu stands up, and bows to the audience, and I go wild like everyone else here, I scream, I cry, I throw my Winnie the Pooh on the ice, I clap my hand, I lose any awareness of myself – lost as I am in Yuzu, burning with pride and emotion. Yuzu, you made it. Five, five perfect quads, and one was that fated 4Lz. Okay, your skate wasn’t completely clean, but it was so special, and so much more than a simple “skate”: it was so full of humanity, and struggle, and glory. It wasn’t just a performance: it was a tale, and how beautifully you told it. How unforgettably.

Yuzu and Ghislain sit in the Kiss&Cry forever. Considering that picking up all the Poohs took a long while, it’s clear that the judges are having trouble with Yuzu’s score. Why? Why? The first answer coming to my mind flows directly out of the worst part of me: because they are probably looking for elements they can underscore. Oh no, please, no… “The score, please,” the speaker says. And here it is. 194 points. Technical score, 100.36; PCS, 93.64. This is not a score. This is a joke, and I can’t stand it anymore. Because I know, I simply know that Nathan will not only win, but he will set a new world record, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the judges give him higher PCS than Yuzu’s. I’m sorry, usually I’m not so mean; right now, though, I just can’t sit here, be polite and show any kind of sportsmanship. Those so-called judges have just humiliated the most amazing person in the whole world, and I can’t stay here and watch them play their foul game anymore. So I stand up and run out, and to hell this competition and its rules and everything. As soon as I’m in the hallway, I meet other people: some Asian women who don’t want to talk, and two girls from Los Angeles. They’re even angrier than me, and for the three of us it’s a bit soothing to share our indignation and to spit out all the rage we are feeling. If only our rage could be useful, somehow… it isn’t, though: in a few minutes we get to know that, of course, Nathan won, and that, of course, he set a new world record. So I was right, and I couldn’t be less proud of my foresight. Waiting for the victory ceremony is hard. As my friend Jacqueline and I queue at a café, rage gets less and less burning, turning into a heavy burden of bitterness. Will there ever be a way out of this shameful situation? A squad of incompetent (corrupted? Hopefully not) judges, an International Union doing nothing to promote fair competing and judging, and Yuzuru paying the biggest price. The whole queue, the whole Palavela is talking about it, but what for? We can’t change anything. We can only go back to our seats and cheer for Yuzu, make him feel how much we are proud of what he has achieved today – because that’s the truth: no matter how much the judges underscore him, no matter how many times they make him lose a competition, he’s the greatest skater of all time. It’s his technique that coaches refer to when they need to teach their skaters how to do a perfect jump/spin/transition; it’s him the one who always tries new combinations, new moves; it’s him who forced the ISU to change the rules in order to keep up with his greatness; it’s him who yesterday – just yesterday! – showed us that the 4A is possible. Only. Him. Time for the victory ceremony. And what a weird ceremony is this one. Not a single clap for any representative of any skating association, from ISU to the Italian Federation. People clap their hands for Kevin and Nathan, that’s it. For Yuzu, instead… for Yuzu, there’s an acclamation. This is not only a tribute to what he did here: this is a declaration of love and, at the same time, a battle cry. Yes, Yuzu, we love you, and we stand by you, and we will fight as much as we can to make those “experts” - those idiots who presume they have the right to judge you and humiliate you – acknowledge your magnificence. Our battle cry is so loud and never ending that Yuzu himself is astonished, overwhelmed, and points to Nathan as if he was saying “Thank you, but look, he’s the winner”. You are right, Yuzu: Nathan is the winner, yes. In our hearts, though, you won so much more than a competition. You came here, you fought your limits and fears (the 4A, the 4Lz, 5 quads plus transitions plus skating skill plus musicality plus grace), and you prevailed. You’re not only a king: you are a warrior king. The arena is full of signs with the writing “Unfair judgment”. For the first time at a competition, I hear boos from the audience. Okay, Yuzu. Let the battle start.

THE YUZU CHRONICLES IN TURIN – DAY FIVE: NOTTE STELLATA

It’s 9.30 a.m. and the Pellerina looks peaceful and welcoming. It’s a big park in western Turin, and I came here with my dogs to find some rest. After four days of Grand Prix – four days of Yuzu – I feel like a kaleidoscope: full of whirling colours, hypnotic spirals, and surprising patterns. It’s amazing, but it’s exhausting too. There are three ponds here, a big river and so many trees, and birds. I think you’d like the Pellerina, Yuzu; maybe you’d like all of my town. Its numerous parks, the long tree-lined avenues, the creamy colour of its buildings from the XVIIth and XVIIIth century. I would have loved to be your guide, allowing you to take a break from the mad, unfair competition that this GPF has been. I can’t even start to imagine how much tired you are, and it would have been nice to take you out – it would have been magic to see you here, walking under the trees, looking at the ducks in the ponds, smiling while my dogs play and run freely… but you prefer to stay at the Palavela, don’t you? Walking around the rink where Plushenko won in 2006, looking at the Olympic rings on the wall, chatting with your fellow skaters. Are you rehearsing for the gala? I hope you’re having fun. I check my watch: 10.15; it’s time to go. The gala will begin at 2 p.m., but I want to get to the arena at about 12 and spend some quality time with my friends. Actually, surviving the rollercoaster of this GPF would have been much harder, without all the lovely fanyus around me. Yesterday, after the medal ceremony, some members of our fan group met at the Edea stand inside the Palavela; it was so crowded and narrow and noisy, but ranting all together about the judges, praising Yuzu and taking pictures were exactly the things I needed to forget my sadness for a while, to turn my anger into good energy. Then Jacqueline and I went to Eataly, a famous restaurant and supermarket, and drank our bitterness away, turning quickly from being fans to being friends (and a bit drunk). Then… Eleonora, Petra, Linda, Shuko, Rory, Mara, Astrid, Barbara, and many others with whom I talked so much, inside and outside the Palavela, and stuck together through hope and rage, pain and love. Paolo, my faithful travelling (on many subway trains) companion. Lys and Carolina, who spent countless hours talking and crying and hugging and laughing and cursing with me. All the unknown fanyus in the audience, when we melted into one body with thousands of voices to scream out loud our love for Yuzu. It was a treat, and an honour, to meet so many beautiful people, and I know that as soon as the gala is over – as soon as I say good-bye to them all – I will feel empty, somehow, and alone. I drive back home, feed my dogs, then I’m ready to go to the Palavela for the last time… for the last time? I can’t quite believe it: from tomorrow on, I won’t see Yuzu every day. This week has been tough, but so intense: the thrill of the competition, for sure, but most of all the spell that Yuzu put on anyone watching him. His commitment, the 4A, his beauty, the stunning comeback of the 4Lz… I’m bewitched. And I’m pampered too, now that I’m (almost) used to see him so often: me wants Yuzu every day! The queue is endless as usual – I wait for my turn, apologizing silently to all the people here for how very badly this event was organised – but finally I’m able to get in. With other fanyus, I wonder which exhibition program Yuzu is going to skate: Haru Yo Koi? Yes, Yuzu must be so tired, he will rather skate something not too physically straining. Masquerade? Well, many of us would love to see it live… some time before the gala, though, we find out that he’s going to skate Notte Stellata. Oh yes, it makes sense: he’s in Italy, in an Olympic venue, of course he has chosen the Italian song he skated to in Pyeongchang. Now that I think of it, it’s always like that with Yuzu: we always try to guess what kind of music/program he will choose for the new season/an exhibition and he always surprises us, even though his choices are perfectly sensible. And I must confess that any choice would be great for me: I’m quite sure I could watch Yuzu doing cross-overs for half an hour and I wouldn’t get bored. Notte Stellata… I never saw it live. Will it be an experience as strong as it was seeing Haru Yo Koi in Helsinki? Yes, it is. So much that, after seeing it, I will forget all the other performances. So much that, while seeing it, I cry. Usually I’m not the crying kind, but watching Yuzu float like a swan on a frozen lake brings tears to my eyes. Yesterday, after the free skate, a friend of mine wrote me this message: “Each movement seems to take him beyond the limits of his human body and to emanate grace and elegance, filling your eyes and lingering in the air even as he glides into a new step”. I also think of what the Olympic commentator said about this program: “With one delayed single Axel and one triple Axel, Yuzuru Hanyu, double gold medallist, just gave a masterclass on what figure skating actually is”. Yes, that’s what figure skating actually is. Going beyond one’s physical limits on a quest for grace, elegance, and beauty. Giving goose-bumps and tears to each and every witness of this travel from what’s known to the unknown, from sport to art. What figure skating actually is, is Yuzuru Hanyu. His last spin goes on and on, even if there’s not music anymore, just like Yuzu will go on and on: in our memory, in our heart, in the history as well as in the future of this sport. And while I scream at the top of my lungs, and clap my shaking hands, I thank Yuzu: for these five days in Turin. For how alive and privileged I’ve felt. For showing me that there can be greatness even in defeat. Ganbatte for Japan Championships and for the rest of your skating season, Yuzu, but don’t worry: somehow, you are always, always, the winner.

--written by Alessandra Montrucchio (in Yuzuru Hanyu International Fan Group on FB), re-posted here with her permission. Pics belong to original owners.

#gpf torino 2019 #Yuzuru Hanyu #thank you so much Alessandra

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tanadrin · 5 years ago

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CHRIS HAYES: We all understand that a country that stops its people from leaving, say North Korea, is just definitionally tyrannical. You can leave if you want to go, right? But then there's like, "Well, okay, well, if you leave you've got to go somewhere, right?" There's also embedded in that document the right to petition for political asylum. There isn't quite the right to go anywhere you want. Should it be the case that it is a universal human right to pick up and move to the country of your choice?

SUKETU MEHTA: But that's the question of open borders. Does the nation have the right to control who comes in, how many they let in? It's a very complex issue. I'd like to first point out that this whole question of borders and passports and visas is only about 100 years old. In the long history on the planet, we human beings have only started thinking about these questions about a century ago. Before that in the age of mass migration from the middle of the 19th century to around 1914, fully one quarter of Europe up and moved to the United States. What happened? The Republic did not collapse.

CHRIS HAYES: No, in fact the opposite. It was part of what converted it from sort of a colonial backwater into a super power.

SUKETU MEHTA: Exactly, the U.S. eclipsed Europe at the pinnacle of world wealth and power because of it had an open border policy.

CHRIS HAYES: Not only that. This is my favorite fact, and you write about this in the book. When people say, "Well, my ancestors came legally." It's like we had open borders. They came legally because literally there was one rule: no Chinese.

SUKETU MEHTA: Right.

CHRIS HAYES: It's called the Chinese Exclusion Act, and it had a quota on the Chinese and everyone else, it was like, "Come on down."

SUKETU MEHTA: Yeah.

CHRIS HAYES: That was the legal posture of American immigration policy for decades.

SUKETU MEHTA: So, in my book I also considered these arguments by serious philosophers, not just crackpots, who say that any kind of collective has the right to define rules for membership, or there's this lifeboat here. The United States is a lifeboat in an ocean, and there are lots of people swimming around. If too many people get on the lifeboat, then everyone sinks — both the newcomers on the lifeboat and people who've been there before. And so, I've considered these arguments, but I really can't find any evidence that, if tomorrow we were to suddenly open up our borders, and there's a lot of people who'd like to move to the United States.

Well, first of all, GDP would increase enormously. There's a statistic that if the world had open borders, then world GDP would increase by $78 trillion a year. When people move, everyone benefits. If the United States were to adopt a policy, let's say, short of open borders. For every one million people that we bring in, the GDP will increase by 1.15 percent. So, there's just no doubt that immigration benefits the countries that the immigrants moved to, particularly the rich countries because we're not making enough babies, and we need young motivated immigrants to work because the United States by the middle of the century is going to be a nation of geezers. As the baby boomers retire, there's not enough working age adults to pay for the pensions of the old people.

CHRIS HAYES: If you want to see the future of America, go to a big facility for seniors, particularly in a metro area like New York, assisted living where it is like old white folks being cared for by 30-year-old immigrants and people of color. That's it. That's it. That's the future of the country in many respects.

SUKETU MEHTA: That's it. Look, the replacement rate is 2.1 babies per woman. The United States' replacement rate stands at 1.7 babies per woman. You see this around the world, Japan. Under 4 percent of the Japanese population is foreign born. It's ridiculous.

CHRIS HAYES: It's one of the most closed off society to immigration of any, probably it is the most closed off to immigration of any First World country.

SUKETU MEHTA: Exactly, yeah, because they want to keep their culture pure. As a result, the economy has stagnated, and in the villages of the north, there's only old people left because all the young people have moved to the cities in the south. They've been invaded by wild boars from the mountains. So, it's a common sight to see these old men and women being chased by wild boars in the villages. The Washington Post had this fascinating article about this, where old Japanese people are being menaced by wild boars because there's not enough young people to chase off the wild boars.

Is this what we want for our country? Wild boars chasing our old people? Bring in the immigrants. Well, the Japanese also have realized that they need more immigrants because they need labor. So, they're actually very cautiously opening up their doors. They're trying to recruit high-skilled immigrants, but not enough people want to move there because they feel it's a hostile atmosphere for them.

CHRIS HAYES: But I have to say that the economic argument always leaves me a little cold, right? It just sort of feels like it's a hard thing to persuade people of. It always feels a little like the U.S. Chamber of Commerce is trying to sell me on something when I hear this argument, which I think is backed up by the vast majority of economists and wonks with a small dissenting group of economists and wonks.

SUKETU MEHTA: Yeah, there's basically one man, George Borjas at Harvard.

CHRIS HAYES: George Borjas, who's the famous contrarian on precisely this. He's the guy that you will see cited in every bit of literature and pamphlets from this anti-immigration coalition. I guess what I'm trying to get back around to is the basic moral principle. There are times when I think to myself it seems possible to me there's two things I feel it's about, eating meat and immigration, where it seems possible to me that in 100 years people will look back on the current policies as like obviously barbaric.

That it just makes no sense that just the natural lottery of where you happen to be born essentially determined all your life outcomes, and like if you're born in a slum in Bangladesh, like, "Too bad. Got to stay there. Can't go to the United States, because you’re SOL buddy." At some level it's like that's morally indefensible. Why is that the case? It shouldn't be that way, and yet it's crazy and radical to say like, "No, they should be able to come here because then where we have a billion people who move to the U.S., right?" There's all these sorts of catastrophizing thoughts we have about what that would look like. But I don't know, maybe that's right. I don't know.

SUKETU MEHTA: The central point of my book is a moral argument that all these people, and you're right, the greatest inequality in the world today is the inequality of citizenship, a disadvantaged lottery. I can predict a person's life depending on the passport that he or she holds. But the question I ask is, "Why is it that Bangladesh is in the state it's in right now?" The nation that's caused Bangladesh's misery, the United Kingdom and Europe, and the United States because of climate change.

Why is it that these Bangladeshis have to endure what they're enduring, which is the possible extinction of their country by the end of the century because of climate change. It's not their fault. They are coming here because we were there. The British went into South Asia, stayed there for 200 years, and destroyed the economy. When the British arrived in India at the beginning of the 18th century, by India I mean all of South Asia, India's share of world GDP was 23 percent. By the time they left, 200 years later in 1947, India’s share was four percent of world GDP.

So, basically the colonial empire will run for the benefit of England and France, who together made the 40 percent of all the borders in the world. Bangladesh is in its current condition, because first, the British looted it, prevented it from building up its industries. Now, we're worried about four million Syrians going into Germany because of the law. What happens when Bangladesh get flooded, and 400 million Bangladeshis have to find dry land? Where are they going to go?

...

CHRIS HAYES: But the level of migration between developing countries and refugee populations at developing countries are constantly asked to take in, and the burden they bear from Jordan to Colombia to India to all across the developing world, for the First World to be like, "No, this is outrageous," it's crazy. It is crazy.

SUKETU MEHTA: Exactly. The vast majority of world migrants, 85 percent, moved from a poor to a slightly less poor.

CHRIS HAYES: That's right.

SUKETU MEHTA: We think that there's always the right wing — if you're to look at Fox News you'll think, "Oh, my God, we're so generous. We let in a million migrants.” We rank 23rd in the world in terms of how many immigrants we let in as a percentage of our population. If we tripled our intake, we won't even be in the top five. Even among developed countries, Australia, Canada, they take in far more immigrants than we do. Germany takes in far more immigrants than we do as a percentage of the population.

...

Look, New York City's exhibit A in showing that immigration works: New York City is now at historically unprecedented levels of number of immigrants it takes, even as a percentage of its population is approaching the highs of the early 20th century. Two out of three New Yorkers are immigrants. New York has never been richer. New York has never been safer.

There's no evidence that these alleged waves of immigrants are actually disturbing the peace, or else making people poorer.

(x)

#whole thing is worth a listen #it's a podcast though so it's lighter on citations than I would like #most people are interested in open borders for philosophical or altruistic reasons #immigration

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beewolfwrites · 4 years ago

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And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Three: A New Alliance

Both Chishiya x OC or a Chishiya x Reader depending on how you wish to read it.

You can find this - along with the first and second chapters - on AO3 here. The formatting is a little better on AO3, but it’s here if you prefer Tumblr :)

Thanks for reading!

-----------------------------------

According to the phone I had picked up in the Jack in the Box game, I had an eight-day visa. That could only mean that the card number of each game was equivalent to the number of days you were awarded on your visa. And the suits? Well, I still hadn’t figured that out just yet.

It was eight days of calm… eight days of sleeping away the burnt singe that came with every breath, and the taste of smoke that lingered on my tongue. But it was eight days that I couldn’t have let go to waste. The day after my win, I visited a deserted bookstore and swiped several Japanese language textbooks off the shelves. I hated the idea of stealing them as they were luxuries, but it wasn’t as if I could pay for them either. Money had no value in this strange, gruesome world.

I picked out the textbooks that I hadn’t been able to afford in my previous life and spent eight days cramming my head with as much Japanese as I could. If I was going to survive, I couldn’t keep going into games with a scrambled-up knowledge of the rules.

But naturally, eight days isn’t enough to learn a language, and far too quickly, my visa was due to expire.

This time, when I left the apartment, I walked further from the city centre to see if the games were spread out right across Tokyo or confined to a limited space. Then I stopped in the middle of the street, the cool night air whipping around me.

A light glared bright on the horizon.

Here we go again.

------------------------------------------------------

The apartment complex was around seven storeys in height, each floor glaring under blue strip lights. Following the signs once more, I walked up a set of stairs and through the entrance to find ten other figures stood around waiting. A few of them looked at me curiously, probably trying to suss out whether I was new to this or not. Ignoring them, I took a phone from the table in the centre of the room.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE’

Like always, I snuck my way into a corner and let my eyes drift over the players around me. If our lives were on the line, who could I team up with? Who couldn’t I trust?

Trust nobody.

It was a motley crew. There was girl with bobbed hair doing stretches on the floor, a middle-aged woman still clutching her handbag, two hardened men who looked ready for anything, a peculiar man with a hat, two young women who were clearly best friends, a guy dressed in blue who kept asking what was going on, and –

White Hoodie.

He was staring at me from beneath his hood, with that same arrogant smirk decorating his features.

‘I look forward to seeing you again in another game.’

It was almost as if he had planned this.

His staring stirred something uncomfortable within me, as if I were a creature only just noticing too late the eyes of a predator lurking in the foliage. I nodded at him, hoping he would lose interest. And sure enough, it worked, as his features relaxed and his eyes lowered back to the ground.

I let out a shaky breath. Avoid him. Definitely avoid him.

There were footsteps as two tall young men waltzed through the entrance. They looked a little dishevelled and they glanced around anxiously. But from the way they immediately went to the phones, this wasn’t their first game. The strange man in the hat started talking to them, but I tuned out their voices. I needed to focus on the situation at hand.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

The talking hushed as everyone listened closely and peered at their phones.

‘GAME – TAG

DIFFICULTY – FIVE OF SPADES

TIME LIMIT – 20 MINUTES.’

‘RULES –

RUN AWAY FROM THE TAGGER.

FIND THE SAFEZONE IN ONE OF THE ROOMS WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT.

AFTER THIS, THE TIME BOMB HIDDEN IN THE BUILDING WILL EXPLODE.

THE GAME WILL BEGIN IN TWO MINUTES.’

I was almost proud of myself. I had been able to understand more of the grammar this time rather than relying on the select words I could pick up.

The players around me had started moving toward the stairs. And if the game officially began in two minutes, that meant we were able to choose our starting location.

White Hoodie instantly moved towards the elevator, but he was the only one, and I didn’t want to be stuck in there with him.

Instead, I waited a moment, before hopping into the elevator with the two hardened men. Pressing the button for floor seven, I waited for them to choose their floor, but instead they just glanced down at me silently. When the elevator doors opened, I scanned the area for the best place to observe as the two men stepped out in front of me.

A corner would be bes—you’re kidding me.

White Hoodie was in the very corner that I had set my sights on. He was waving, possibly at the two men, possibly at me.

Nope, I thought. I’m not doing this.

I stepped back into the elevator and jabbed the button for floor six. Irritation. That was all I could feel as I made my way to the same corner, one floor down. He’d only gone and taken the safest seat in the house, leaving me no choice but to opt for second-best instead. It’s true, I could’ve taken the seventh-floor corner on the other side of the block, but I’m not sure the two hardened men would’ve wanted a tag along. Perhaps it was stupid or stubborn of me to do this, but I didn’t have the patience to deal with White Hoodie’s psychotic calmness. He would make a smart ally, that’s for sure, but someone like him wouldn’t hesitate to throw someone like me under the bus.

I propped my elbows up on the edge of the walkway, observing the other players as they scattered throughout the building like chess pieces. Some were using the extra time to test the locked doors while they could.

‘Everyone looks like they’re about to die, as usual.’

I groaned and looked up at the ceiling above me. How can I still hear his snarky commentary from all the way down here?

If it weren’t a life-or-death situation, I’d have gone down yet another floor just so I wouldn’t have to listen in. But there was no time for that.

‘GAME START – THE TAGGER IS NOW ON THE MOVE.’

Everyone was silent. I could see them all poised, terrified, waiting, as trumpets filled the air, echoing through the long walkways and staircases. A racing fanfare? I held my breath, waiting for something to happen. For the tagger to make themselves known.

And then, a chime.

The elevator doors opened up. They opened up on floor six – my floor.

My heart jumped at the sight. He was tall, clearly well-built despite being shrouded in a coat. But what was most striking was his head, or should I say, his mask. He was wearing a large mask stylized as a horse head. The racing fanfare suddenly clicked into place… as did something else.

He was holding a submachine gun.

And he was looking right at me.

‘Shit!’

Fueled by adrenaline, I ran to the far edge of the walkway, hoisting myself up onto the balcony as the tagger calmly made his way closer, getting ready to aim. Clasping onto the drainage pipe, which trembled under my weight, I prayed that it wouldn’t collapse to the ground. The metal groaned as I pulled myself up with strength I didn’t know I had.

I heard the bullets before I felt them, a small, sharp whoosh of air that burst across my skin.

I’m almost there! Almost there. Just a little more.

The tagger was leaning out now, growing closer and closer while firing away and missing me only by a hair’s breadth. Soon he’d be close enough to aim properly. Channeling all my energy, I pushed my feet against the pipe joins, trying to pull my body up just a little further.

A hand reached out.

Clinging to the pipe with one arm, I grasped the hand and felt myself being pulled up against the balcony and onto the seventh floor where I rolled to the ground.

The gunshots stopped.

I couldn’t move from where I lay, staring at the roof as I tried to catch my breath. My muscles quivered, shivering with fight or flight.

‘危なかった,’ a familiar voice said. That was dangerous.

My eyes slid over to my rescuer. White Hoodie was leaning against the balcony.

‘でも,’ he continued. ‘感心した.’

I frowned, confused, trying to think back to the textbook I had poured over. The eight days of studying had almost gone to waste.

‘Sorry,’ I said, still a little breathless. ‘I don’t know what that word means.’

He laughed, a short puff of air. ‘It means you’re an idiot,’ he said. ‘You should’ve stayed up here rather than being stubborn.’

I pushed myself up and sat against the wall, as I wasn’t confident I had it in me to stand just yet.

Then, he added, ‘you’re also completely unprepared for a Spades game.’

Oh? So the suit does have something to do with the nature of the games…

I gave him a questioning look, hoping he’d elaborate, but he simply turned around to observe the game going on around us. I didn’t take his dismissal personally. It was hardly the time or place.

It must’ve been a few minutes I spent sitting there before I eventually decided to stand. Now that the adrenaline had passed, my muscles were beginning to ache. But I couldn’t let that keep me from the game; I needed to be able to run if the tagger came up here. I stood next to White Hoodie, observing the players around us.

From the third floor, gunshots and wet gurgled shrieks resounded. Left, right and centre, players flopped, limp as dolls as floor sprayed across the walls. We watched on as the two young women were slaughtered one by one, the second one wasting a perfect opportunity to escape by instead throwing her shoe at the tagger.

‘He was reloading his gun,’ I said, incredulous. ‘She could’ve gotten away so easily.’

Beside me, he made a noise of agreement, then we fell into silence. Even though we only had 20 minutes in total, it seemed to last a lifetime. Things got interesting very quickly when the two disheveled men started running across their floor, one of them shouting that everyone should call out the tagger’s location and help each other.

‘It’s not a bad idea,’ White Hoodie said, ‘but nobody will respond.’

‘You don’t know that,’ I replied. ‘Somebody might.’

At that moment, the girl with the bobbed haircut yelled out, ‘the tagger’s moving! He’s on the fourth level of the central area! Anyone who’s nearby, run!’

At first, I felt a sense of satisfaction that he had been proven wrong. But then the same girl tried to save the middle-aged woman, before leaping off the side of the balcony and climbing a drainpipe with the agility and grace of an expert. I tried not to feel jealous. I tried.

She makes it look so easy. And she did it while dodging all those bullets too.

‘A climber? How interesting…’ White Hoodie mused. Leaning toward me, he added, ‘you see, that’s how you’re supposed to climb things.’

‘Shut up,’ I snapped. ‘I never asked for your opinion.’

He gave me that same condescending look that he had back in the entrance, and I squirmed inside. After that, we returned to silence. I checked the time on my phone. We only had 12 minutes left. It wasn’t long before we needed to head to the safezone, wherever that may be. Eying the guy next to me, I wondered whether he knew exactly where it was but was waiting until the last minute.

Gunshots sounded once again. However, this time they were coming from a floor just below us. The tagger was firing his gun at a door across the walkway on a floor below. In between gunfire, the scared newbie from the beginning peeked his head over the edge of the balcony, before ducking down again in fright.

Something wasn’t right. It was quite a considerable distance for the tagger to shoot, and so far, he had just been shooting anyone he came across at random rather than targeting those on different floors.

Unless… that door behind him.

‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ I said.

White Hoodie nodded and glanced at his phone. He then pulled off his signature hood, revealing his pale hair once more.

‘Should we begin?’

I didn’t like the idea of tagging along behind him, but he seemed to know what he was doing. I clearly couldn’t trust him, but at the same time, he’d helped me up the balcony. He didn’t have to do it, but he had. But then what if it was so he could later use me as a human shield? There were too many what-ifs, and it was impossible to tell whether to consider him an ally.

Up ahead, he stopped. He turned around to where I was still standing, lost in thoughts.

‘Aren’t you coming?’

I won’t trust you, but I’ll stand by you.

‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

He smirked. ‘Chishiya.’

Somehow, it suited him. And it felt more like an alliance now that I knew his name.

I gave a firm nod. ‘I’m coming, Chishiya.’

Jogging to catch up, I followed behind him as we made our way downstairs. The tagger seemed to be on one of the lower floors, but this didn’t make me any less apprehensive as I stayed a few paces behind Chishiya, unable to stop myself from staring at the white tendrils of his hair that blew back in the breeze.

As we approached the door, another familiar face appeared. It was the disheveled one who’d suggested we all work together. Looking at him up-close, he had a friendly, attractive face, but his hair looked like it’d seen better days.

‘I see you noticed it too,’ Chishiya said.

The man nodded, although he looked unsure. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he didn’t seem willing to go any further.

Chishiya raised a brow. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

The man glanced between the two of us, then said slowly, ‘if I was the tagger, I’d have just stayed here. There’s something missing in this game, something we haven’t thought about.’

He had a point. There was likely more to this ‘safezone’ than the rules had specified, just like how one of the codes in the Jack in the Box game had been a lie. There was probably a trap hidden somewhere behind the apartment door.

‘That’s probably true,’ Chishiya agreed, then pulling out his phone, added, ‘but there’s no time.’

He also had a point. There was only three minutes of the game left before the bomb detonated and it was game over for everyone.

The man nodded, and slowly opened the door.

I hid behind Chishiya as the three of us quietly entered. The place was just an empty room, with nothing particularly safeabout it. But at the far end, there was another door. That was probably the real safezone. The three of us made to inspect it –

Click.

Chishiya was pushed aside, his body thrown onto mine as we fell to the ground. Deafening gunshots rained everywhere, marring the walls and ceiling.

A second tagger!

I felt Chishiya’s weight suddenly leave me as he crawled to his knees. Scrambling out of the way, I saw Chishiya hastily pulled a battered Walkman out of his pocket. To my surprise, he pushed it against the second tagger, and electricity juddered from one end, sparks flying.

No, not a Walkman… a taser!

The moment it touched his skin, the tagger spasmed and jerked before dropping to the ground. Beside me, Chishiya climbed to his feet and offered a hand to pull me up. Together, the three of us stared in amazement between the converted taser and the still body on the floor.

Chishiya inspected his weapon. ‘It’s good to come prepared—’

Bullets burst through the air, the room glowing orange. I barely noticed the hand clamped like a vice around my wrist as my body was dragged outside, the door slamming shut behind us. The metal of the door protruded grotesque as fresh bullets hit, and I glared at Chishiya in disbelief.

‘He’s still in there! We can’t just leave him!’

For the first time, he seemed to be out of breath. ‘Do you want to die?’ he asked dryly.

Then his eyes, suddenly hard and serious, began to drift down further, coming to a stop on my upper arm. I followed his gaze to discover that a large red stain was oozing from my upper arm. Even by the second, the blood was rapidly soaking the fabric of my clothes. Perhaps I should have been panicking. Perhaps the sight should have made me more worried, but it didn’t. If the bomb detonated, we’d be dead, and a gunshot wound wouldn’t matter.

‘I can’t feel it,’ I told Chishiya. It was the truth.

He pursed his lips, staring darkly at the messy red wound. ‘You will soon.’

I sighed. We probably only had about two minutes, if that, to clear the game.

‘Let’s go back inside,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll go in first if you want.’

The scorn on his expression was quite something. Now standing, we both inched the door open, to find the room empty. Or at least, the main room was empty. The door at the back had been forced open, and a series of struggled groans could be heard.

Chishiya went first, creeping towards the doorframe and peering his head around. He whipped back as another wave of bullets scattered across the wall opposite.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked, scanning him over.

‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘There’s two buttons in there. Two people need to press them to clear the game.’

Should’ve seen this coming. It wouldn’t be so easy.

By now, although I hated to admit it, Chishiya had been right; my arm was just starting to throb. In another few minutes, it would likely become too painful to move freely.

Suddenly there was a crash, and a familiar female voice could be heard inside the room. From what I could remember of her, it was the climber girl. Leaning into the doorway once more, Chishiya hesitated, holding the makeshift taser in his hand.

‘TEN SECONDS REMAINING.’

There’s no time for this!

Snatching the taser from his fingers, I ignored the pulse of pain from my arm and sprinted into the room. Then, ducking low, I shoved the taser into the tagger, feeling the electricity shudder violently through the Walkman and around my fingers.

‘FIVE… FOUR… THREE…’

The tagger slumped against the wall.

‘TWO…’

The man and the climber girl launched themselves across the room.

‘ONE.’

Their palms hit the buttons.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

#alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland #kuina #arisu #usagi

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wistfulcynic · 6 years ago

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Osaka-shi Serenade 1 / 4

This is the most personal thing I’ve ever written. I just need to say that up front. It is personal because it is basically the story of how my husband and I met and fell in love, tweaked for Captain Swan. It... works surprisingly well, actually. I had no idea I was living in a romcom until @thisonesatellite accused me of having a “meet-cute.” But I have to admit, she has a point. It was kinda cute. It’s MUCH CUTER with Killian and Emma, though, because you know what those two are like.

I also have to accuse thank @captainsjedi and @teamhook among others for insisting that this was a good idea, and genuinely thank @distant-rose and @thisonesatellite for beta-ing like champs and the treasures they are. Also tagging @thejollyroger-writer @winterbaby89 @shireness-says @searchingwardrobes @darkcolinodonorgasm and @kmomof4 because they were foolish enough to ask for it (and also @katie-dub because she is the best). If anyone else is feeling foolish and would like a tag, please let me know.

Summary: When Emma Swan’s high school sweetheart betrays her she runs away, as far as she can get… all the way to Japan. She tells herself it’s not running, it’s an adventure, but when she meets a handsome Englishman as broken as she is, will she be brave enough to embark on a new adventure with him?

Rating: M (for later chapters)

On AO3

Part One:

She wasn’t running away.

Well okay she was technically, but she was also going on an adventure and that sounded a hell of a lot better.

Plus the fact that the interviews had been held in Boston which would normally be too far to expect her rickety Bug to travel and too expensive to get the train on her waitress income, but that they were held on a day she just happened to have plans to be in Boston anyway, catching a ride with Ruby on her annual shopping trip and spa day, well that had to be fate.

And who was she to argue with fate?

The same fate that had seen her pass the last class she needed for her BA just in time to allow her to check that final box on the application form, to qualify for the visa that she needed for the job that would take her as far away from Neal Cassidy as she could reasonably get without leaving the planet.

There weren’t English language schools on Mars or she would have fucking considered it.

But Japan was far enough really, and as she stood in the Osaka airport fighting off jet lag and trying to make sense of the signs that really may as well have been in Martian for all the help they offered her in finding where she needed to go to catch the damn bus, she wasn’t entirely certain she hadn’t landed on another planet after all.

It was all so different.

Just as she was about to give up in despair, curl up on her suitcase and take a nap in the middle of the goddamn arrivals hall she heard someone speaking her name.

“Emma Swan?”

Emma turned to see a young woman with a clipboard and an expression of polite inquiry.

“That’s me.”

The woman smiled coolly, making a decisive movement of her pen on the clipboard. “I’m Belle, I’m here to take you to the bus.”

“Oh thank God.”

Belle looked up and her smile warmed. “Yeah it can be disconcerting at first,” she said. “Don’t worry you’ll soon get used to things. We’re just waiting for one more person then we’ll head for the bus stop. Here’s your ticket. Don’t lose it.”

Emma clutched the small ticket tightly, noticing even in her highly sleep deprived state that beneath the Martian letters there was a small illustration of a bus.

Helpful, she thought.

She swayed on her feet and allowed the airport to blur around her as Belle’s voice said “Walsh Ozman?” and she vaguely noted the presence of a gangly man about her age. He gave her a once-over and a leer that she would have found inappropriate even when she hadn’t spent the past twenty four hours marinating in plane grunge, and Emma was just too tired and too overwhelmed for that kind of bullshit. She turned her back on him, picked up her suitcase, hoisted her carry-on onto her shoulder, and followed Belle out of the airport into the muggy Japanese night.

The air smelled different here, thought Emma.

The bus ride into the city was excruciatingly long, the scenery insanely confusing. All the buildings looked alike, tall and grey and adorned with balconies on every floor, their railings strewn with plants and strung with laundry, and Emma began to panic. She was a small town girl after all, despite the occasional weekend in Boston, and she’d never been in a city like this before.

What if I get lost?

She breathed deeply to calm herself and tried to focus on Belle’s words. You’ll soon get used to things. Emma hoped like hell she was right.

Walsh leaned over the back of her seat bringing his face way too close, breathing rank breath over her cheek. “So. Where you from?” he asked, in a voice she supposed he thought was sexy.

“Maine,” she said shortly, not looking at him.

“Cool,” he said. “Lobsters. I’m from Fresno. That’s in California.”

“I know.”

“Northern California,” he elaborated as though she hadn’t spoken, winking at her.

Emma ignored him, pulling her scarf up over her nose to filter out the smell of his breath and pretending to go to sleep. She imagined she didn’t smell too great either after flying across the freaking Pacific Ocean (not to mention the whole of the USA) but really you’d think the asshole could at least brush his teeth before hitting on her.

When they finally arrived at the bus terminal Emma thought she had managed to sleep a little bit. They were met by a dark-haired man who introduced himself as August and smirked as he spoke Japanese to the bus driver, and by a cheerful, petite woman with an accent Emma had never heard before who told them to call her Tink.

“Don’t ask,” she said with a laugh. “At least not yet. I’ll tell you the story someday over a beer.”

“You two are gonna be living on different subway lines,” said August, and Emma breathed a small sigh of relief. “Emma, you’re on the Sennichimae line, that’s the pink line, so you go that way.” He pointed to their left. “Tink will go with you and help you get settled in, give you your keys and everything. Walsh, you’re on the red line, Midosuji, so you come with me.”

Emma was immensely glad to find herself with Tink, who was bubbly and cheerful though sometimes Emma wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying.

“Where are you from?” she asked as they sat in the subway car, wincing a bit to herself as she repeated Walsh’s question. Without the smarmy intonation, she hoped.

“Oh, I’m a Kiwi.”

“A what?” Emma frowned at the image of Tink as a fuzzy brown fruit. Maybe exhaustion was making her hallucinate, she thought. That could happen, right?

Tink laughed. “I’m from New Zealand.”

“Oh, wow. Is it really cliché if I mention Lord of the Rings right now?”

“Yep. But don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

They got off the subway at Imazato station.

“Remember that name,” said Tink. “If you ever need to get a taxi home, don’t try to give them your address. Just tell them the name of the subway station, it’s a lot easier.” She pointed to a building across the street from the station entrance. “That one’s yours.”

Emma noted with relief that it wasn’t a skyscraper, though still far taller than any building in Storybrooke. It was also painted off white, with the balconies in red. It was pretty.

“Does every place have a balcony?” she asked Tink.

“Oh, yeah. It’s the only way to get some outside space in the city. People use them for growing pot plants, drying laundry, all sorts of things.” She led Emma into the building and pressed the button to summon the elevator. “You’re on the fifth floor, so you can walk up if you want, but…”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “Maybe some other time.”

“You’ve got two flatmates but they’re at work, they both work the night shift,” said Tink, opening the door. “The MM Centre is open 24 hours.”

“Yeah, they told me I’m working the 3-11 pm shift, but I was a waitress for years so I’m used to those kind of hours.”

“Mm hmm,” said Tink, but she was distracted, looking around the room. “They should have… ah yes here, they’ve left you a note. And a towel, that’s thoughtful. I suppose you didn’t bring a towel.”

“Um, no,” said Emma.

“Most of us don’t. It’s one of those things you just don’t think you’ll need. But you’ve got bedding supplied for you, a futon and some sheets.”

The apartment’s front door opened into a short hallway with the bathroom door leading off to the right and the main living space in front. The main room was sparsely furnished with a plain, worn sofa and a television sitting on a small table. A sink, refrigerator, and kitchen cabinets lined one wall and a dining table with three chairs stood along the one perpendicular to it. Emma noted to her relief that there was also a microwave. Red curtains hung at the sides of the large sliding glass door that separated the room from the balcony, and there were three other doors, also sliding ones, made of thin slats of wood that criss-crossed each other to form small window-like squares which held what looked like thick, cream-coloured paper.

Tink slid open one of the these doors and gestured to the room behind it. “This one’s yours.”

Emma’s eyes widened as she took in the room. It was small and simple, the walls a basic off-white, but it had big windows on two of its walls, a spacious looking closet behind more of the thin wooden doors, and the floor was covered with densely woven straw mats. The air inside smelled fresh and sort of grassy, like a late summer day in a hay field. It made Emma feel peaceful.

“You really lucked out with this place,” said Tink. “Really close to the station, and you’ve got tatami in all of the bedrooms. A lot of the apartments NOVA puts us in have lino floors and they are nowhere near as nice. Gross in the summer. Sticky.”

Emma nodded, wanting to ask Tink how long she’d been in Japan but when she opened her mouth all that came out was a jaw-cracking yawn.

Tink laughed. “I’ll let you settle in now and get some sleep. Here’s your starter pack.” She handed Emma a blue folder with her name on the front. “There’s instructions for how to put the futon together and also a map of the city and a subway map and directions to the Centre. You’ve got nothing scheduled for tomorrow, which is actually now today, but on Monday you need to be at the Centre at nine to start your orientation. All the info’s in the pack. Here are your keys. Any questions?”

Emma had loads, but she shook her head. They could wait.

“Cool. I’ll leave you be then. Sleep well.”

“Thanks.”

After Tink left Emma stared at the futon instructions for a solid five minutes without her brain absorbing a single molecule of the information they contained, until finally she threw them along with the rest of the orientation pack on the floor and simply unfolded the mattress, wrapped the sheet around herself and fell asleep.

——

It turned out that Belle was right. Emma did, eventually, get used to things in Japan. It took far less time than she’d feared, due at least in part to that first day when she’d woken up completely disoriented to find both her new roommates asleep and her stomach practically caving in on itself.

Reminding herself that this was an adventure and she’d sworn to be brave, she had grabbed her map and headed out into the streets of Osaka in search of food.

And gotten hopelessly lost.

The streets were a cacophony of noise and colour, honking cars and bicycle horns, bustling people, flashing neon signs. Emma tried to stay on what looked like the main road —the one with the most lanes, anyway— but as she walked along it her attention was caught by a brief flash of green in her peripheral vision, soft and natural against the dusty greys and blinding neons of the city, and on impulse she went to investigate.

Around a sharp corner and down a narrow alleyway she discovered a tiny structure she would later learn was a Shinto shrine; simple and ancient and made of wood, with a pointed roof that curved up at the ends and an ornate metal decoration at its peak, about the size of a telephone booth. Lush green grass edged with dense, thorny bushes surrounded it, bisected in one direction by a winding brook made lively by mossy stones and in the other a cobbled path leading to the shrine from the street, which crossed the brook via a tiny wooden bridge painted orangey-red.

Emma approached it with awe, wondering again if this could be a hallucination, this haven of peace in the urban chaos. The quiet was blissful after the noise of the street, and almost surreal in its contrast. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sharp, piny scent of the bushes and the fine mist of the brook and felt herself relax.

As lovely as the shrine was, though, she couldn’t eat it, as her stomach reminded her with a thunderous growl that almost echoed in the little garden. She went back over the bridge and down the path but when she emerged into the street she couldn’t remember which direction she’d come from. All the streets looked… well, not the same exactly but there were no landmarks her mind could latch onto, just a jumble of houses and signs written entirely in Japanese, and Emma realised that she had stumbled into a neighbourhood where most tourists didn’t venture.

She chose a street at random and headed down it, looking for anything that might be a restaurant or grocery store, but though she passed quite a few places that had signs hanging in front of them and wooden doors that looked like they might lead to eating establishments, she didn’t have the confidence to just push through one, in case it turned out not to be a restaurant at all. She had literally no idea of what she was looking for.

Eventually, the small street she was on intersected with a wider one and on the corner was the first thing she’d seen that was unmistakably a place to eat, if the large sign with pictures of food on it was any indication. It had a bright red awning with wisps of delicious smelling steam emanating from beneath it, out of a small kitchen area just visible behind wooden bar lined with stools, separated from it by a curtain made of clear plastic strips. Emma approached hesitantly, trying not to stare at the enormous bowls of soup and noodles that a Japanese couple were slurping enthusiastically at one end of the bar.

A man emerged through the plastic curtain and said something to her in rapid Japanese.

“Um,” stuttered Emma. “I’m sorry, I don’t…” She tried to think of a way to explain what she wanted using sign language but her frazzled brain would not cooperate.

One of the people from the end of the bar looked up, a young woman with a glossy, chin-length bob. She smiled at Emma and said something to the man from the kitchen, who nodded in response and shouted “Hai!” then disappeared, returning moments later with a steaming bowl of soup, a pair of wooden chopsticks, and a white ceramic dish containing a small towel rolled into a cylinder shape. These he placed in front of Emma, bowed to her, and left again.

“Please,” said the woman, pointing to the towel then rubbing her hands together. “Please.”

Emma picked up the towel and unfolded it. It was warm and damp and had a clean, refreshing scent. She wiped her hands with it, and then, following the woman’s mimed instructions, her face as well.

At the woman’s urging she sat and picked up the chopsticks, pulling them apart with a sharp crack and then staring at them helplessly.

The woman laughed, but it was a friendly laugh, and she held up her own chopsticks to show Emma how they should be held. After a few attempts she managed to hold them securely enough to transfer some noodles into her mouth and slurp them up, and when the broth slopped everywhere and dripped down her chin she laughed too.

Nothing had ever tasted so delicious.

The woman pointed at herself, directly at her nose. “Naoki,” she said, widening her eyes and nodding. “Naoki.”

“Uh.” Emma thought she understood, and pointed to her own nose. “Emma.”

“Em-ma,” Naoki repeated. She indicated the man sitting next to her. “Masahiro,” she said.

“Whoa, okay,” laughed Emma. “Um, Masahiro?”

“So, desu-ne!” cried Naoki, and Emma took that to mean approval.

She ate the rest of her noodles and broth messily and with relish, and when she finished she pulled a 1000 yen note from her pocket and offered it to Naoki, who firmly waved it away.

“Thank you,” said Emma, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. “Er, arrigato.”

She returned the 1000 yen to her pocket and took out the map of Osaka, frowning as she struggled to unfold it. Masahiro tugged on a corner and gestured for her to give it to him.

Emma handed over the map.

He spread it out on the bar and removed a pen from the pocket of his jacket, then appeared to think hard.

“Home,” he said finally.

“My home?” said Emma. She remembered Tink’s advice about giving the name of the subway station. “Um, Imazato? Imazato station?”

“Imazato eki,” said Masahiro. “Hai.”

He drew a large X on the map and pointed to it. “Imazato,” he said. “Imazato eki.”

“Okay,” said Emma.

Masahiro traced his pen through the confusing web of streets on the map than drew a circle.

“Koko,” he said. “Here.” He slid the map back to her and pointed down the street. “Imazato,” he said.

“Imazato that way,” said Emma. “Got it. Thank you. Thank you both.”

Naoki and Masahiro both stood, and bowed to her. She attempted a small bow herself, feeling foolish, then headed in the direction Masahiro had indicated, following the path he’d drawn on her map until she spotted the pink sign for Imazato station.

“Thank fuck,” breathed Emma in profound relief, and thank fuck she’d remembered the name of the station.

That experience taught her not to be so afraid of getting lost, or trying new things even when she had no idea what she was doing. Or asking for help. All of which she needed to do repeatedly as she settled in to her new country.

Gradually she began to adjust, to spot landmarks and develop routines, and she had begun to feel fairly sure of herself about a week and a half in when she got on the subway after her shift along with a whole crowd of other English teachers she’d yet to speak to.

The car was packed so she slid into the corner and pulled out a book, holding it in one hand while the other gripped the railing for balance. It was a good book —the latest Terry Pratchett— but before she could really get into it she was distracted by raucous laughter from a group just to her right.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, mate,” said a voice, a deep, rich one with a British accent that could curl your toes. “This is a very expensive tie. It cost a hundred yen!”

Emma looked up, trying to get a glimpse of the speaker. She was pretty sure he’d been joking —he must have been joking, even she knew 100 yen was only about a dollar, and she’d only just got here— but his tone had been very dry and also she wanted to see if his face matched his voice.

“Look,” the voice continued. “It’s 100% silk. It says so right here on the label.”

“Oh and labels never lie I suppose,” retorted another voice.

“This one better not. I paid a hundred yen for this tie, I bloody well expect silk for that price!”

Laugher rose again and as Emma watched the small group shifted and the speaker’s face came into view. She caught her breath.

“What are you alleging, exactly, Graham? That someone took a cheap polyester tie and put a ‘100% silk’ label on it?” The speaker’s eyes glinted with mischief and she was now certain he was joking.

His eyes were also really blue.

“Whoever would do such a nefarious thing?” he continued, adopting a look of angelic innocence so patently false that Emma snorted with laughter. The group turned to look at her.

“You’ll have to excuse Killian,” said the lone female among them, a young woman about Emma’s age with long, brown braids and friendly eyes. “He’s never had to own a tie before.”

“What, never?” asked Emma, as though she hadn’t just bought suits for the very first time, to meet the dress code of this job.

“Never needed one,” said Killian with a shrug. “Except for funerals, and I threw that one away.” His blue eyes clouded briefly with a flash of pain that Emma felt echo in her own soul. She knew that pain, firsthand. But it was gone almost before she could register it, replaced by the teasing glint. “So I went shopping for one the day I arrived and found these very reasonably priced one hundred percent silk ties at the hundred yen store, but Graham seems to think I’m not entering into the spirit of the dress code.”

“Look, I don’t like wearing suits any more than you do,” said Graham, in another accent Emma couldn’t quite place. She’d heard more versions of English spoken in the past ten days than she’d ever imagined existed. “But I’m prepared to put in a bit of effort.”

Emma had to admit that his effort was impressive. Graham’s suit fit him perfectly, and his shirt and tie were beautifully matched. Killian on the other hand wore a suit that even to Emma’s untrained eye was obviously made of cheaper fabric, the fit a bit awkward and the tie carelessly knotted.

“Why?” challenged Killian in a voice that aimed for casual but only reached defensive, and a tense silence fell.

“Look, mate I didn’t mean—” Graham began hesitantly, but Killian cut him off.

“It’s fine,” he said, making a short chopping motion with his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Emma had no time to wonder what all that could be about because the woman jumped in, trying to lighten the mood.

“Hey!” she said brightly, pointing at the subway ticket that Emma was using as a bookmark. “Is that a single day ticket?”

“Um. Yeah?”

“Why don’t you get a monthly pass? It’d save a lot of money.”

“I didn’t know I could.”

“Oh yeah! NOVA will pay for it, you just have to buy it and they’ll reimburse you. And little secret, if you put Umeda as your transfer station you can use it on all the subway lines and city trains, so you won’t have to pay for transport at all.”

“That sounds great, but I don’t really know how—”

“Oh, no worries! I have to renew mine, I can go with you! I’m Anna, by the way. I’m from Canada!” She held out her hand.

“Emma. Er, from the US.”

“Great to meet you!” Anna shook her hand energetically. “And these, as you’ve probably deduced, are Graham and Killian.”

“Yeah. Hi.” Emma smiled at the men, who nodded.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea! We’re going to Nara this weekend with a Japanese friend of mine. Why don’t you come too! We can meet early and get your monthly pass before we leave!”

Emma was beginning to wonder if Anna was able to speak without exclamation points. It was a bit intense. But she couldn’t help liking the bubbly Canadian and Graham and Killian were both smiling at her, and she had promised herself to be brave.

“Okay,” she said. “Sounds like fun.”

——

It was fun. In addition to Anna, Graham, and Killian there was Anna’s friend Kayoko and two other teachers, one a round young man who informed Emma she would have to call him Smee.

“Because my name is William, but he’s named Will,” he explained. “So. To avoid confusion, you know.”

He turned out to be a short, very talkative man with an accent Killian insisted was also English, though it didn’t sound much like his own.

“Will’s from London,” said Killian apologetically as they left Nara train station and headed out into streets that were noticeably less crowded than those in Osaka. “I’m afraid he doesn’t know any better.”

“And where are you from?”

“Somerset.” At her blank look, he elaborated. “It’s in the West Country— southwest England. Pirate country.”

“Pirate country?”

“Aye, lass,” he said in an exaggerated pirate voice. “Pirate country, arrrr!”

She laughed. “You’re making that up.”

“Would I?”

“Yes.” She’d only known him a few days but she was absolutely certain he would.

“Okay, maybe I would, but I promise you this is a real thing. The pirate accent is from Bristol, and Bristol is in Somerset, or at least it was. Don’t mock my heritage, love.”

“I wasn’t—” she began indignantly, then caught the twinkle in his eyes. “Hmmph,” she huffed, trying not to smile. “I’m not your love.”

“Pity,” said Killian, holding her gaze for a breathless moment and then Graham called his name and he turned away.

They made their way slowly towards Tōdai-ji temple, along the wide paved pathway that cut through the grassy and tree-lined field called Nara Park, where dozens of small deer frolicked in the grass.

“Oh, look!” cried Emma.

“Yes,” said Kayoko. “Famous deer. You want to feed them?”

“Can I?”

“Many people do.” Kayoko led them to a wooden stall along the path where they each bought a bag of round wafer-like discs which they cautiously offered to the deer who came running up to greet them.

“They like the food,” Kayoko informed them. “But they bite.”

“Mind your fingers,” murmured Killian in Emma’s ear.

Emma held out a disc to one deer, who ate it politely.

“They don’t seem that— oh!” Emma jumped as another deer barged past the first and butted her hand with its nose. “Okay.” She took out another wafer and offered it to the second deer, and then a third, and before she knew it she was surrounded by a crowd of furry brown faces and out of food.

“I don’t have any more,” she informed them, holding up her empty hands, but the deer butted their noses against her pockets and her bag, and she was beginning to wonder if they might actually attack her when a large, warm hand enveloped hers.

“Come on, lass,” said Killian, amusement in his voice. “Let’s make a run for it.” He pulled her through the crowd of deer and and together they dashed back to the pathway, laughing breathlessly.

“Thanks,” said Emma. “I was starting to fear for my life.”

“Aye, me too.”

He let go of her hand but the electric tingle of his touch remained, buzzing across the skin of her palm. She looked up to find him watching her with a slightly dazed expression. Then he blinked, and smiled his flirtatious smile.

“Shall we go see this temple, then, love?”

“Still not your love,” said Emma, still breathless. “But yeah, let’s go.”

As they walked the group mixed and mingled and Emma learned that all of them had been on the same two planes and had arrived together in Japan a month ago in the same “wave.”

“And we’ve sort of hung out together ever since,” said Anna. “Who was in your wave?”

“I’m not sure I had one.”

“Didn’t anyone else start along with you?”

“There was only one other person when I got here, this guy Walsh.”

“Oh. I think I’ve met him. Ew.”

“Ew is the word.”

“But you didn’t have a group or anything? No group meeting the first night you arrived?”

“No. They took me straight to my apartment the first night and I fell asleep.”

“Huh, no wonder you didn’t know about the monthly pass. That’s kinda weird. I don’t know anyone else without a group.”��

Typical, thought Emma. I’m alone even when I’m not supposed to be.

Anna caught the expression on her face and looped their arms together, giving her a bright smile. “It’s probably just because you started so late in the year,” she said. “But never mind, you’ve got us now. We’ll take you under our wing, little chickadee.” She laughed and Emma joined in, unable to resist. Anna was weird, but it was a nice weird.

Kayoko turned out to be an amazing tour guide. Her English was a bit stilted but she had immense knowledge of Japanese history and culture. Tōdai-ji, she explained, was an old Buddhist temple, still in use, and inside it was the world’s largest bronze statue of Buddha. The group listened attentively as she spoke and took pictures of everything she pointed out and Emma actually spotted Killian round the side of the Buddha with a tiny notebook and pen, scribbling rapidly.

“Are you taking notes?” she asked, amused.

“No.” He quickly stuffed the notebook into his jacket pocket. His off-duty clothes were a vast improvement on his work clothes, she thought. Jeans that hugged his ass and a t-shirt that skimmed his torso and a leather jacket that moulded to his shoulders. Chin unshaved, hair messy. He looked damned good.

He also looked embarrassed.

“You were, weren’t you?” she pressed.

“I wasn’t—”

“Let me see that notebook, then.”

“No.”

“Because you were using it to take notes.”

“Look, if I admit I was taking notes will you let it drop?” The tips of his ears were pink and he was rubbing nervously at a spot behind the right one, his expression anxious. Emma felt a stab of guilt. She’d thought they were just joking around.

“Of course.” She took a step back. “I’m sorry.”

Killian shrugged, burying his hands in his jeans pockets. “It’s all right, lass. I just— the notebook is something I don’t really want to talk about just yet is all.”

He looked vulnerable without his cocky, flirty grin, vulnerable and a bit lost. She felt the weirdest urge to touch him, to take his hand again, to see if the electricity that still tingled on her palm would reignite.

“Okay,” she told him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

His worried expression melted into a bright smile with no teasing twinkle, just warmth softening the blue of his eyes as he held her gaze.

“Emma! Killian!” Anna’s voice rang out through the hush in the temple, followed quickly by the woman herself. “Kayoko says there’s a good restaurant nearby, do you want to go get some lunch?”

“Sure.” Emma forced herself to turn and nod at Anna though her heart was thundering.

“Sounds lovely, lass,” said Killian, his eyes still on Emma.

Anna’s lively smile slipped as her eyes darted between them but she quickly fixed it back in place. “Well come on!” she cried and after some slightly embarrassed shuffling Emma and Killian followed her.

—

Killian sat next to Emma in the restaurant, casually, elbowing her as she sipped her miso soup.

“So what to you reckon to this Japanese food, then, love?” he asked.

“I like it,” said Emma. “I don’t know what it is I’m eating half the time, but it’s all been amazing.”

Killian laughed. “I know what you mean,” he said. “Have you tried takoyaki yet?”

“No, what’s that?”

“Oh, you’ve got to try takoyaki!” cried Anna from across the table. “They sell them in the park in front of Osaka Castle, we should go!”

“Okay,” laughed Emma. “But what are they?”

“Octopus balls,” said Smee, and the whole table sniggered.

“Okay what am I missing?” demanded Emma.

“Takoyaki are octopus tentacles,” explained Killian. “Cooked in batter in this special mould that forms them into ball shapes. It’s an Osaka specialty.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. They love their octopus balls here, right Kayoko?”

“Takoyaki is very popular food.” Kayoko confirmed. “Very traditional.”

“Everyone loves a good octopus ball, mate!” said Will, winking at her.

“Well, all right,” said Emma, reminding herself that she was here to try new things. “It can’t hurt to try.”

—

The takoyaki was disgusting. Emma spit it into her napkin and the look on her face had Killian doubled over in laughter.

“Ugh,” she said, “No. The taste isn’t bad but you can feel the tentacles on your tongue, with those little suckers…” she trailed off with a shiver of horror. “Not for me.”

Killian took the oblong wooden bowl containing her five remaining takoyaki and poked one with his toothpick. “I love them,” he said, popping it in his mouth. “Mmmmm.” He chewed with exaggerated relish. “Tentacles. Delicious.”

Emma made dramatic gagging noises and Killian nearly spit out his own mouthful when he started laughing again, so loudly that the other people visiting the castle turned to stare.

Osaka Castle rose up behind them where they stood on the dusty gravel path that led to its main entrance, bright white in the slanting light of the early December afternoon, the gilt decoration along its swooping green roofs glinting in the sun. Emma couldn’t believe it was December already; the week since their trip to Nara had flown by, though not a day of it had passed without some small flirtation between her and Killian. A wink, a teasing remark, a shared sip of vending-machine coffee or a bite of a mochi sweet. Something was brewing between them, and though it was still far too early to say what exactly, whatever it was had butterflies dancing in Emma’s belly whenever she saw him.

Anna, who had been sharing her bowl of takoyaki with Smee, watched them with her habitual smile a bit strained around the edges.

“Don’t you like it, Emma?” she asked, and the edge in her tone had Emma looking at her in surprise.

“Nope,” she confirmed. “Definitely not my thing.”

“More for me,” said Killian cheerfully as he polished off another. “Next we’ll try you on sushi, see how that goes. What do you say, love?” His grin was warm, his eyes glinting with a flirtatious challenge that Emma could not resist.

“Sure why not,” she replied, looking at him through her lashes with a smile that was decidedly coy. “I’ll try anything once.”

Killian’s eyes went wide and Anna’s smile grew a bit more strained.

“Anything?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow coolly though there was a faint flush across his cheekbones.

“Anything.”

Killian cleared his throat. “Good to know,” he said.

Anna stabbed the last takoyaki in her bowl and chomped it forcefully.

When they had finished eating the four of them took a walk around the castle before heading back to the subway station.

Emma fell into step with Anna as they walked. “Hey,” she said, bumping the other woman’s shoulder in a way she hoped was friendly. Aside from Ruby she didn’t have a lot of female friends, and this was slightly new territory for her. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure! Fine!” Anna replied brightly. “Why do you ask?”

“You just seemed… a bit off, I guess.”

“Well, I’m not,” said Anna, but the edge in her voice was back. “Just… don’t push anything with Killian okay?”

“What?” Emma gaped at her. “What are you talking about?”

Anna shook her head. “Nothing. It’s— it’s nothing. Never mind.”

She moved ahead to walk with Smee, leaving Emma frowning in bafflement behind her.

—

Takoyaki may have been a disaster for Emma but sushi was a triumph. Three days after their trip to the castle she, Killian, and Smee went for lunch at a tiny restaurant tucked away in the famous covered shopping street of Shinsaibashi-suji, beneath a flashing neon sign in the shape of a sinuous dragon.

The sushi was made fresh in a kitchen on the left side of the restaurant, and served on little plates that moved around the room on a conveyor belt, going in and out of the kitchen area through a curtain made of plastic strips exactly like the one Emma had seen at the ramen place her first day in Japan.

550 yen (700 for the men) bought as much sushi as the luncher could eat plus miso soup and a drink. NOVA teachers had an unofficial running competition over how many plates they could eat in one sitting, though not one of them had yet managed to match the old Japanese men who could frequently be found sitting in the corner eating sushi for hours on end, their stacks of plates growing so high they had to be cleared away lest they topple over.

Emma tried the salmon and the tuna, and the whitefish and the rolled omelet and even the eel.

She did not try the octopus.

“Can’t tempt you, love?” teased Killian, waving a crinkle-edged piece of sushi in front of her nose.

“I can see the suckers from here,” said Emma. “They are no less horrifying for being sliced thinly.”

Killian chuckled and ate the sushi with a hum of enjoyment. Emma smiled as she watched him. He was wearing another of his awkward suits and cheap ties since they had to head to work as soon as lunch was over. He was freshly shaven, too, which made her a bit sad, but the dress code at their job was a rigid one.

They worked at the NOVA Education Group’s Multi-Media Centre, which was an enormous concern spread over three floors of a thirty storey building. Each day they arrived on the fourteenth floor where they clocked in using paper punch cards and swapped out their street shoes for slippers.

Slippers in the office was a Japanese tradition Emma could get behind. As someone who had worked as a waitress for years, anything that kept her feet comfy while she was working was in her mind a very good thing.

After clocking in and changing their shoes they sat down at the picnic-style tables where they spent their mid-shift breaks, and scanned the huge screens that hung from the ceiling for their names. The screens told them what their seat assignment was for the day, floor and cubicle.

“I’m on sixteen,” said Emma on the day they tried the sushi, about three weeks after her arrival in Japan. She had managed ten plates and felt like she might explode at any second. Killian and Smee, who had eaten fifteen and nineteen respectively, seemed no worse for it. She scowled slightly as they came up behind her. “What about you guys?”

“Fifteen,” said Anna.

“Me too,” said Smee, and Graham and Will were on fifteen as well.

“I’m on sixteen,” said Killian. “Walk up with you, love?”

Emma’s scowl smoothed out. “Sure.”

They took the stairs, preferring to avoid the elevator whenever possible. It was fast enough all things considered, but there were thirty floors in the building and they only had to go up two of them. Arriving on the sixteenth floor they discovered that their assigned cubicles —rectangular wooden tables separated into two squares by wooden dividers and equipped with a desktop computer and a bulky grey connection device that sat atop the monitor— were across the aisle from each other, meaning they could lean their chairs back and talk before their classes started.

“What’ve you got?” Killian asked.

“Hmmm.” Emma scrolled through her students’ class records, looking for one that neither of them had completed. “I think today I’ll talk about animals.”

“And I shall be practicing expressing anger,” said Killian.

“Ooh, I like that one. The roleplay can be hilarious.”

“Well I’ve only got one student assigned. So it looks like we’ll be roleplaying together, Kouki and I.”

The classes they taught consisted of between one and three students who used their own connection devices, provided as part of their NOVA package, attached to their own home computer or television to connect to the system which then directed them to their assigned class. It was a bit like a closed internet system —intranet, Killian insisted it would be called— and it allowed their students to take classes at any time of day or night and from anywhere that had a screen and a phone line they could use to connect. The week before Emma had taught a man who worked as a forest ranger and lived in a remote cabin on top of a mountain.

The teacher’s job was to select a class to teach —preferably one that all three had not done before, though this wasn’t always possible. Students bought packages of hundreds of classes, and if they weren’t able to advance to the next level after completing all the classes at their current one, they would do those classes over. Emma had taught students who’d done the same class three, four, even five times.

Five minutes before the class began the teachers opened the classroom and waited for the students to connect. When they did, their faces appeared on the screen in one of four boxes that it was divided into. Three boxes for the students, one for the teacher. The beginning of the class was announced by a bell that rang for ten seconds through the MM Centre and also over the system. When the last peal had finished chiming, the teachers turned on their cameras and greeted their students.

If the students did not connect before the class began, they were blocked from it and their devices would not work until their next class. If no students appeared, the teacher could close the class and have a free period.

Emma opened her class and read through her students’ past reports until the five minutes were nearly up. When only a minute remained, she looked at her screen. “No one’s here yet,” she said.

“How many are you expecting?”

“Two.”

Well, here’s hoping,” said Killian, and they put their headphones on as the bell began to chime.

When silence fell and Emma’s screen remained empty of students, she gave a sigh of relief and closed the class. She enjoyed teaching, far more than she’d thought she would, but a free period was always nice.

Picking up her book she leaned back in her chair and began to read. A moment later Killian’s chair tilted back as well and she smiled when she saw him doing the same.

“No show?” he mouthed at her. No talking was allowed during class time, except to students. She nodded. “Same,” he mouthed, then indicated her book. “What are you reading?”

Emma held up her Terry Pratchett, still the same one she’d been reading on the day they met. Normally she was a much faster reader but she’d been so busy exploring Osaka that she hadn’t had the time.

A broad grin creased Killian’s face and he held up his own book… also by Terry Pratchett. Emma grinned in return, and when he gestured for them to swap books she agreed readily.

Killian read the blurb on the back of her book then opened it, frowning slightly when he saw what was written on the inside cover. He looked up at her.

“What?” she mouthed.

He took out his notebook, the one he’d had in Nara, and scribbled something on a piece of paper. Ripping it from the notebook he handed it to her.

Is your last name Swan? it said.

Emma was confused for a minute then realised she’d introduced herself to her new friends simply as Emma. It was weird to think she’d been hanging out with Killian practically every day of the past two weeks and he didn’t even know her name.

She didn’t know his either.

It is, she wrote back. What’s yours?

Killian took the note and smiled, scribbling briefly before returning it.

Swan suits you. Mine is Jones. Do you think that suits me?

Killian Jones, she thought. It did suit him.

Nice to meet you, Killian Jones, she wrote. Can I have my book back?

His eyebrow rose as he read. Of course, Swan, he wrote back. Provided you’ll allow me to borrow it once you’re done.

Sure. And can I borrow yours?

Most definitely. Terry Pratchett should be shared. Which characters do you like best?

I like Death, wrote Emma. And Susan.

I’m partial to the wizards of the Unseen University myself. And of course the Night Watch, he replied

Carrot ❤️❤️ wrote Emma.

Nobby ❤️❤️ wrote Killian.

Emma laughed, earning her a glare from the supervisor.

They passed notes back and forth for the rest of the class time, and when the break between classes arrived Killian came over and leaned on his arms on the wall of her cubicle, continuing their discussion for so long that he had to almost dive back into his own to get his class prepared in time.

Despite their daily flirting Emma and Killian had never actually spent that much time just with each other before, but unlike what often happens when a group dynamic abruptly becomes a pair one, there wasn’t any awkwardness in their conversation. Instead it felt comfortable, natural, but with that ever-present frisson of electricity that had Emma’s skin buzzing and the butterflies in her belly doing somersaults. Killian flirted a lot less than she’d come to expect from him but charmed her far more, letting more of himself —his intelligence and enthusiasm, the softness under the innuendo— show through, and by the time they went downstairs to meet their friends for dinner Emma felt that their casual friendship had turned an invisible corner. She liked Killian, more than she’d liked anyone in a long time, but beyond that she could feel a potential between them, a possibility for something big and serious that was thrilling but also terrified her. Could she handle it, so soon after the disaster of Neal? Did she even want to?

The look in Killian’s eyes as he offered her half his red bean paste bun at dinner, the look in them when she accepted, the way he smiled when her own eyes widened in delight, made her think that maybe —maybe— she did.

Notes: I was in Japan in 2006-7, so that is when this fic is set. I haven’t been back since and I’m sure a lot has changed. I hope anyone who has visited in the past 13 years will forgive me any small inconsistencies in my memory or for places I describe that no longer exist. In short, please don't @me, I apologise in advance.

Also, all the OUAT characters here are standing in for people I actually knew in Japan, meaning in some cases I’ve had to tweak them a bit. It’s quite important for Anna’s character to be from Canada, for example. Again, please forgive me.

Thanks for reading 💕💕

#cs ff #cs ff au #cs fic #non magic au #captain swan #english teachers #japan #friends to lovers #pretty darn fluffy #but with a touch of angst to come #also there will be smut #but not in this chapter #also there is a fuckton of Japanese tourism stuff #so many details #if you like Japan this is your jam #profdanglaisstuff #osaka-shi serenade

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festivalonearth-blog · 5 years ago

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10 Unknown Facts About Japan

Be that as it may, that is anything but a variation for Japan.For sure, this nation is the main protected domain with an Emperor, however, to be completely forthright, there is no contrast between sacred government and an established realm.A ruler or sovereign of such nations despite everything don't have a lot of intensity or authority.Japan is an antiquated nation with an incredibly fascinating history and conventions.

Japan additionally is extremely shut off to outsiders, which is the reason such a significant number of vacationers are keen on these confined islands.

As a result of its closeness, the cutting edge Japanese lifestyle and culture is very unique concerning the U.S. what's more, Europe.

Here are 10 veritable facts you most likely don't think about Japan!

Japan doesn't have janitors

Avenues in Japan are incredibly spotless, even in Tokyo, the capital and a huge megapolis, all the boulevards are perfect and have no litter.

Yet, how does Japan accomplish this without janitors?

Everything descends to their mindset. Japanese individuals once in a while leave junk in the city.

Likewise, volunteers both youthful and old, clean the avenues just because they need to live in a spotless city.

As a helper, charitable effort can assist you with discovering work in Japan!

If a business sees that you have recently filled in as a volunteer cleaning the boulevards, you will be viewed as a mindful individual and are probably going to be recruited rapidly.

98.5% of Japans populace is Japanese

The present world is turning out to be increasingly more worldwide because of social blending.

Yet, this isn't the situation in Japan, because of incredibly hard visas and the social mindset, it is a test for vagrants to remain in Japan.

From one viewpoint, it ensures this interesting and old culture with old customs, however, then again, it is in effect so stopped awful for association with the outside world and transients?

Does Japan by any chance need them? The appropriate response is to follow in the following actuality!

25% of the Japanese populace is more seasoned than 65

Japan is presently confronting horrendous segment issues.

Since it is so difficult to pay for youngsters' needs similar to schools, medication, extracurricular exercises, numerous Japanese individuals just don't have kids.

It's been like this for a long time, and now over 25% of the populace is at or beyond 65 years old.

The answer to this issue is settlers, who wouldn't fret incorporating, and need to have kids.

Japanese Government is currently attempting to "open" the nation for extending through migration.

You can rest at work

Many have heard that Japanese individuals have fantastically long days at work.

Authoritatively, they have 8-hour days as most pieces of the world, yet in Japan they have the mindset to remain for additional hours to show that you're willing to work.

This remembers resting for the activity!

In Japan, on the off chance that you are resting during the workday, it is an indication that you buckle down.

Even though Japanese organizations do a similar measure of work as Americans or Europeans, laborers delay their assignments until night to remain at work and demonstrate their eagerness to work. It sounds odd, yet it is the Japanese reality.

Sex entertainment in Japan is effectively available

In Japan, every single standard market, likewise called consolidated (Japanese little shops containing all that you need), sell sex entertainment diaries.

You can get it at any age, regardless of whether you are a kid and it will be in any event to some degree typical.

In Japan, there is no sex training either at schools or in the family home, which is the reason youngsters and adolescents need to find out about it without anyone else.

For Japanese society, magazines, hentai anime, and manga are dependable approaches to get taught on the theme.

Numerous old realms and realms like Spain, England, Sweden became republics or protected governments

Be that as it may, that is anything but a variation for Japan.

For sure, this nation is the main protected domain with an Emperor, however, to be completely forthright, there is no contrast between sacred government and an established realm.

A ruler or sovereign of such nations despite everything don't have a lot of intensity or authority.

Japanese individuals eat dolphins

It is entirely expected to eat dolphins in this nation. It is considered as standard as fish or meat, not much or amazing through Westerners' eyes.

Japanese individuals make soups or "kushiyaki" from this meat, or may even eat it crudely as sashimi.

Dolphins produce delectable meat with an unmistakable taste and is very unique concerning standard fish.

There are containers with umbrellas in the city

On any of the numerous lanes in Japan you can discover containers with umbrellas, so if it begins coming down – you can take one.

After you're done, you'll have to return it to some other jar.

Since Japanese individuals are legitimate, they could never take one.

Japan has Cat Islands!

That is right, entire islands that are possessed by the hairy cats.

The Island of Aoshima, which is situated in the Ehime prefecture, is the most notable feline island, even though there are different "Feline Islands" off Japan's coastline and even on inland saltwater lakes.

Tashiro-Jima is the subsequent most popular island for felines, yet now the idea is turning into a well-known vacation destination, more islands are turning out to be feline shelters.

The Japanese language contains numerous untranslatable words

For instance, "komorebi" which signifies "daylight separating through leaves."

It's a significant bizarre word, yet if you begin to learn Japanese, you will discover numerous others.

Moreover, the most grounded reviles in the Japanese language are "simpleton" and "dolt."

Another intriguing thing is the slang. For instance, "gaijin" signifies outsider, "Baka" signifies moron, and "Baka-gaijin" is American in slang.

There you have our main 10 facts about Japan! So on the off chance that you were arranging an excursion to Japan, later on, you currently have some social references for your visit. Or on the other hand possibly one of these facts will move you to design a stumble over!

## Japanese individuals once in a while leave junk in the city. Therefore, Japan needn't bother with janitors.

#asia #japan #facts #country #knowledge

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culturati-club · 5 years ago

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“Culture” Shock

All is well then a crazy panic comes over me. Who is this person I am looking at, speaking to me from, across the table? Where the hell am I? Who am I? HOLY S**T, WHO AM I? Panic. Panic. Am I alive?

In all this emotion, I have been trying to find articles that prove this feeling is, in fact, normal. I wanted to find articles about others who had this same experience, yet all I could find were steps of culture shock (that did not express this horrible feeling I was living). I wrote this in hopes that my experience could be that something for someone else.

Panic and anxiety are one of the scariest mind f**ks to ever have. Especially when you are in a place that is unfamiliar to you. Everything is new. Absolutely everything. I always imagined culture shock to be in the sense that all things material are new to you. I have been many places and have never felt like this before. This sensation is new to me, and with that, it is quite terrifying. I mean, I have had anxiety all my life, but never this intense; never this surreal. It has had me questioning everything. Is this life? Is life real? I am such a deep person, who strives to be strong, so feeling this made me feel absolutely crazy. I am critical on myself and strive to know myself in every way, but recently, I feel disconnected from myself and everything I’ve ever done. This loss of identity has had me feeling disoriented. It has me in a place feeling dark and lonely. No one understands what I am speaking of, which has me feeling even crazier.

Visiting a new city is one thing, but actually moving and adjusting your entire life and future to one, is another. It is exciting and scary. The emotions of stress are overwhelming. You are not only adapting to a new job, in a new city but to a whole new culture, entirely by yourself. People always say the same things to me: “You are so brave! I don’t know how you just pick up and move to another country!”, yup. It all seemed fun and easy, so I kept going. Until now my mind has popped like an overinflated balloon.

December 10th, 2015

I feel as if I am in a dream; a nightmare. I am sitting here trying to make sense of it all. I realize it’s not just USA I miss. I miss China. I talk about China. I compare it to China. Tokyo, Japan is not China. When we are scared, we crave the comforts of home, therefore, I want to go home. I miss my Mom. I miss my dad. I miss their vicious dog that tries to maul me to death. I miss it all simply because I am in a place I do not feel familiar with. That familiarity is what gives us that sense of identity. When everything is new and you are left alone to think and process, not just this new experience, but everything in life that has made you, you.

“Many travel for the idea of it; seeing exotic places and lives (as we should). We should all travel to learn about culture and the exotic people that consume this wondrous world. Fair warning, though… that is what I live for, and that is how I became so lost. I have seen wonders and have held personal experiences that have brought me to meet incredible people; people that will haunt my memories for the rest of my life. Though I haven’t been to too many countries, I have spent time living and subjecting myself to different cultures. Witnessing and experiencing a different way of life first hand, by yourself, is life changing. I have lost myself doing this and have learned that traveling does not always help you find yourself. Traveling provokes more questions by opening our mind to the mighty world that encompasses our individualized personification of life.”

- A passage I wrote September 2014… on the floor of a bookstore… in my hometown.

Upon returning from China, I spent some time at home. I had some major reverse culture shock that I don’t think I ever got over. No one could really understand it either. Anyway, there at home, I processed without really processing. All I did was mourn in the loss of the experience I had just had. Longing for it. I made a lot of art. I painted, I wrote, I photographed. That was amazing. Since graduating from college, I hadn’t been able to just create for myself. I picked up an internship for a startup magazine, where I was asked to become the Art Editor. I attended concerts and interviewed artists. On the side, I had become ordained to wed my brother and is amazing new wife in marriage. So much happening stepping out of an experience of the happened, I never processed anything.

Along with that in 2015, I had spent this past summer in Spain. I often forget that that all even happened. When I was in Spain, I lived with two different families in three separate months. By the time I was with the second family, I was planning a trip to Germany, and received an email regarding this job opportunity in Japan. I interviewed and accepted the job. It was fate; a blessing. I was immediately in four mindsets: Spain/Germany/Home/Japan. I was still experiencing Spain and was wanting to do specific things, was planning to go to Germany to visit friends, then getting home only to prepare for my departure to Japan. This was all in a span of a few months. I even ended up going through quite the adventure of going through two countries to get home from Spain. Germany flights were impossible to get out of (non-rev), my Visa was about to expire, and I needed to get home to prepare for Japan. It was a fun kind of stressful. I ended up taking a bus from Munich to Zurich, Switzerland, where I spent the night at someone’s home I met off CouchSurfing, only to try to catch a flight out the next day. Following some adventure, I made the flight where I met an awesome dude I ended up sitting next to. After nine hours of talking and drinking bourbon with this new friend, I was back in Atlanta. I was home and gave myself a week [my birthday week] before I started preparing for Japan. It was a rush. A stressful period. Yet, week after week, my departure was delayed. I was on my toes not knowing when to expect to go. I get an email, “Ok! You are going on Monday (in three days)!”, AHhhh, “OH WAIT, Your Visa wasn’t approved yet, so maybe next week!”…. This happened week after week for two months. It was getting to the point where no one believed I was actually going, and I myself began to believe I was not actually going.

Oh, but, finally, it actually happened! I received my passport with my work Visa, I had my ticket. It was happening. From that moment, everything following happened so fast. I left, I arrived, and it all seemed great. I met so many people, I felt I had known all my life, then all the sudden, a month goes by. A month! It feels as if it was a month’s worth of events put into just a few days.

December 18th, 2015

Our minds are like a tornado. Each is a different kind of storm. Some big, some small. Some carry on for a while; some diminish before they can even begin. My brain is a tornado that has been sucking up five years worth of experiences, memories, people, countries, hardships, love, and more. The further tornadoes roam, the more they suck up, and the more they grow in size. Imagine how big the tornado in my mind has grown over time. Now, I am in a place that brought me here as pure destiny. It’s surreal. I’m in a position where the storm has grown tiresome. I have no worry because I am set to be here alone for two and a half years.

The tornado is at a halt. The air is still, but everything the tornado had swept up, everything my mind, I had retained in five years, is crashing down at once. My brain is overwhelmed. I am finally being forced to process everything I have lived through, and I can’t believe it was me who lived out all those experiences.

Perhaps that is why this random lightning bolt of panic and disorientation has hit me. I suddenly feel as if I have no sense of identity. That I just awoke from a long sleep, and this place is so unfamiliar… or, maybe, that I am in a dream and a daze. I realize I am in fact alive, and it freaks me out because nothing seems familiar. My deep and philosophical mind along with my critical sense of being strong has not helped me in any way. I only look into it much deeper and convince myself I am crazy because I so badly want to feel my normal self again.

Isn’t it funny how this sense if being “normal” always comes back to haunt us? I, for one, have always been a disbeliever of “normal”; I have never thought it to exist. I always feel it to be something society created in order for us all to be the same. No human is the same. Humans are each different. I am different. You are different. To remember that can be so easily forgotten.

December 20th, 2015

It’s funny because I often say, “Great humans think DIFFERENT”, instead of “great humans think alike”. I never understood what was so great about thinking alike… If we all thought alike, then we wouldn’t have a Steve Jobs for Apple. We would not have Skype or Delta AirLines…. So why do we expect ourselves to be “normal”? If anything this worlds idea of normal is what makes us crazy.

As I began to write this, I received a phone call from a fellow missionary and Pastor here. He was checking in to see how I was doing. He said in language class this week he learned the Japanese word for, “different”. He said it is also the same meaning for “wrong”. He felt it fitting because to be different is wrong here. He reminded me that I am unique, and that is why I am here. To be that unique person, and to bring the special talents I have to offer.

I try to express this feeling to others, and they look at my like I am nutso. That helped with this situation a whole lot [jokes]. I quickly remembered, though. I remembered that no one truly understands what another goes through. We can hear their story, but we can never really know their story. So that fact that people look at me like a nutso doesn’t much bother me. I am twenty-five and feel as if I have lived the life of a ninety-year-old. My mind is a wonderland.

I can’t really figure out why I have been feeling panic and anxiety. Everyone back home who knows me keeps saying, “Jennifer, you just moved to the other side of the world. Again. Your mind probably just needs to process everything you’ve done in the past five years!”.

Everything I have been through is what has gotten me here. I have to remember that, yes. I am remembering that as I write this, but sometimes we go through so much and just keep going and going; never stopping to process. Our brains can’t handle it. Our brains will stop and make you question everything, process everything. I am not a machine, I am not supergirl. I am just another unique human being. I am not crazy; I am simply exhausted. I am not perfect. I must remember that. We all must remember that for ourselves. We are not perfect.

Most see me as a lucky individual. I agree. I am very fortunate. Not just because of the experiences I have lived out, but also for the drive and passion I hold close to me. This post isn’t meant for self-pity nor is it meant for the pity of others. I hope this can help remind people that at every moment, of every day, we are all just humans.

For so long, I just kept going. I have stressed about trying to do everything in the angst of time; about living out all my goals in order to fulfill my dreams. We make assumptions about people and their perfect lives, when in reality, they are going through something just as dark. Anxiety is a horrible thing. Especially if you are alone in a foreign country where everyone seems to keep to themselves. You begin to question your identity in an overstimulating place like Tokyo.

This experience has opened my mind even more so (and will continue to). It has opened a door to a new perspective by testing everything I have ever believed in. I’ve always believed: obstacles are often blessings in disguise.

We could sit around and wonder who we are and how we got here, or we can naturally allow the universe to guide us through faith and intuition. I am where I am because I had that faith, and sometimes life just seems way too golden to be true. We may never fully understand what drives anxiety, therefore, treasure even those darkest moments because they, themselves, turn out to be some of life’s greatest lessons. Everything that happens to us is for our complete benefit. If we are not constantly learning– growing– then what are we even doing?

Disclaimer: I do not like the term “culture shock” for this situation, though it was the most understandably amongst society. Japan is a very lonely and secluded nation. Just after two months of living here, I began to have this disconnection from myself. People live like this their entire lives. Japan has a dark side. In peace.

Imagery and wording by Jennifer Jarvie ( @clubjarvie )

#culture shock #japan #tokyo #culture #truth #dark side #travel #exploring #selfie #mirror

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