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bnhaobservation · 3 months ago

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Did Enji atone to Touya (and his family) and stepped up on his role as a father?

Boku no Hero Academia has a grave 'flaw'. The fact that's strongly tied to Japanese culture and Buddhism makes it a very interesting work but also makes it a hardly international work because way too many cultural things are left unexplained because they're assumed to be a given. Only they're not when the work is read by foreign readers. And this lead to confusion.

The Todoroki plotline is an example of this.

In the west many feel Enji did nothing for Touya or did too little because the little he did is a given in the west. The point is... it's not a given in Japan. In Japan is a BIG DEAL. So let's go though it.

First, the fact that he doesn't want to kill Touya even though he's a criminal

Todoroki Enji ‘Ore wa ikinobite mo... ENDEAVOR wa shinda. Tairyō satsujinsha (read: musuko) to tatakaenai.’ 轟炎司「俺は生き延びても...エンデヴァーは死んだ。大量殺人者（むすこ）と戦えない。」 Todoroki Enji “Even if I survived... Endeavor is dead. I can't fight against a mass murderer (read: my son).”

Let's compare it to these two scenes of "Death Note" and see how Yagami Soichiro, a policeman, is taking the idea his son might be a killer and how, although Misa protests, the story doesn't present it as him being crazy but as it being his duty.

That's why Hawks doesn't want to send Enji, who's on an atonement path, to face Dabi, because Enji might end up in a situation in which he would have to kill his son and he would refuse... which is more or less what happens.

Second, Enji acknowledges that what Touya said is true, Touya is his son and Enji did what he did. In such a situation many would lie. Dabi's video proves nothing. He is a Villain, they had a doctor in the team who could create Nomu, the paternity test could be fake, even if Dabi were to provide a sample of his blood or skin they could insist that's fake.

Society didn't want the truth, they don't want Enji to confess, they wanted him to reassure them, they even commented he should have lied because yes, that's what's done often.

Basically he put his honor on the chopping block. A public apology like this one is a BIG DEAL in Japan. It's much more serious than in western countries and he does it when he could have spared himself and say Dabi lied but that would have meant to deny his son.

Third, it connects to the first in a way. While Enji is unwilling to kill Touya, he's willing to die with him. It's ‘shinjū’ (心中 Lit. “Mind/heart center/inside” but more likely means “oneness of hearts”, probably reflecting a psychological link between the participants) and it’s a word used in common parlance to refer to any group suicide of two or more individuals bound by love, typically lovers, parents and children, and even whole families. People who commit shinjū believe that they would be united again in heaven, a view supported by feudal teaching in Edo period Japan, which taught that the bond between loved ones would continue into the next world, and by the teaching of Pure Land Buddhism wherein it is believed that through shinjū, one can approach rebirth in the Pure Land. By volunteering to die with him, Enji is basically agreeing to remain with him in their next reincarnation.

For us it's crazy, it's Enji giving up on saving him. In Japan it sounds like 'I love you and I want to be with you'.

Forth, he'll apologize to Touya. As said before it's a BIG DEAL, especially since Enji is the family head and, although for us most of what he did is wrong, in Japan most of what he did is well within what he can do. Marrying a woman you don't love in a combined marriage to expect the child who'll be born from it will fulfill your ambitions and not really bothering to raise it because that's a mother job, well, things are changing in Japan but none of the above is a crime. In a not so distant past it was actually the norm. Yet Enji apologizes even though normally a family head wouldn't.

Fifth it's a bit in the first point and in the second but it'll drag on through all the story, Enji won't reject Touya. He's the only one (except Fuyumi who however doesn't get to say much) who never calls him Dabi after the reveal, and he won't strike him out of the family register but will keep on considering him his son.

Look at the Tobitas instead and at how they kick their son out.

Don't think Hawks is cutting strings with his parents solely because they were abusive, the Tobitas show us how you should just cut strings with a criminal. Same as the Togas.

Have "Theseus no fune" in which a man accused to be a murderer, send a birthday gift to his son and watch the reaction of his wife.

They don't want to keep contact with a criminal. It's scary because they'll be mistreated if they are discovered to be related to him.

And, in this vein, the fact he wants to go see him, that he'll keep on seeing him till the end instead than turning his back on him, is seen as important. It's seen as him being his father.

To many of us it seems as if he's forcing his presence upon Touya. Actually, from a Japanese perspective he's instead not abandoning him like many others would.

And since Touya is dying, very likely the talking will be the talking that's done in a Buddhist culture when someone is dying. Death should occur in a calm and peaceful environment, with close friends and family in attendance. Together they should reflect on the good deeds the dying person has done throughout their life, in the hopes it will help them in their next reincarnation. Additionally, family and friends can perform good deeds on behalf of them, which they believe will be of merit to the deceased.

So, since Touya is dying he won't get a scolding like Chisaki, they'll all only tell him nice and soothing things so he'll die peacefully.

Now... in the west all this is absolutely way too little, and in some points even feels wrong. Dying together instead than insisting in trying to save him? Deciding unilaterally to show up every day? Not our thing...

We can totally say 'thanks, I hate it' because we grew up with Darth Vader who instead gave his life to SAVE his son. All this accepting that Touya instead is going to die so Enji can at best die with him or keep him company until he does... well, it's mostly not our cup of cultural tea.

In in Japan though, all Enji does is important. Enji is doing something for Touya as a father, something important many fathers wouln't do for their sons.

Does it would satisfy a Japanese audience? They'll get the message better than us... but things are changing and anyway it can still feel too little. "Death Note" is dated 2005/2006 and back in it Misa was already questioning the idea of a father killing his son and then killing himself. BNHA is more innovative as Enji doesn't think to kill Touya but he still goes for the 'let's die together' route... and Horikoshi subtly criticizes it by having the rest of the family decising they'll try to stop the fire before just giving up. They're willing to die, but not before trying.

Enji represents plenty of old theories after all, which Horikoshi acknowledges were moved out of wrong beliefs, not moved by mean intents... which, is possible, would still not be enough for Japanese readers either because among teenagers, the target audience, there's an increasing number of teen who, in Japan, are forced to leave home (the Toyoko Kids) and often ends up committing crimes to survive and the league seems to be based on all the kind of homeless people Japan has.

While for a kid at home with a loving family being told that your father will die with him if he messes up instead than just dumping him might be comforting... for a kid that was abused and forced to leave home this might feel not enough.

People want to be saved, being told it's too late to save them, might be a lesson for those who hadn't done anything wrong yet so that they won't do it, but it's surely not a hopeful message for who instead got himself into troubles.

But well, that's something for the Japanese audience to ponder.

There's also to point out that, even though the message is not hopeful, Horikoshi is seeing the homeless people and acknowledging they should be helped.

Japan in regard to the Toyoko kids is mostly like the old woman who pretended not to see Tenko but that, in the end, helps that new boy.

I think Horikoshi's message desperately wants to be hopeful even for them, that he wants BNHA be like Midoriya's final stand, something that will push people to acknowledge they exist and reach out to help them.

It just that... it gets lost in what I'll call the 'litteral translation'.

No one explains us how we should jusge the scenes and, since we lack the cultural background, to us they are perceived differently because to us things work differently.

And, personally, even when I think I figured out the author's intent and can see the positivity of it, the cultural filter is still too tick and the picture gets blurried.

It's like being beginner at speaking a foreign language and having to constantly translate it in your head. The message loses its natural beauty, get simplified and not fully grasped.

I think I understand how Enji's atonement work in regard to Touya... it still doesn't feel fulfilling to me. But enough about Touya.

'Now,' you might rightfully say, 'fine, I'll bite, let's assume what Enji has is an atonement arc for Touya. It doesn't work at all in the west but let's give it a pass. What about his other kids?'

Natsuo and Fuyumi's wishes are in conflict.

Fuyumi wants the five of them to be a family (at the time she doesn't know Touya is alive), Natsuo doesn't want to be part of a family with Enji.

Enji's solution is giving Fuyumi a house in which she can welcome her mother and live with Natsuo (and Shouto when he comes home), while he removes himself from the equation. The solution fulfills Natsuo's wish of not seeing Enji because it makes him feel bad. It only partly fulfil Fuyumi's wish because it'll allow her to have her mother back (Rei couldn't bear meeting Enji either) and to stay with her siblings... but Enji takes responsibility for it, he doesn't tell her it's due to Natsuo that he can't live with them, so, in theory, it won't be Natsuo the one who's stressed to be at home when Enji is there and the one who has to leave home because he can't stand the sight of Enji.

There are many things I can say on how this is not a good solution (it doesn't make Natsuo feel better, it just stops him from feeling worse), but there are two points to consider. The first is that Enji is getting old and it would be his children's duty, due to filial pity, to take care of him, instead he's basically giving them the means to leave and take his wife with them.

Actually, since Natsuo is now the oldest MALE, it should fall on him specifically. Yes, Enji always intended to have Shouto inherit his mantle but this doesn't free Natsuo from his duties. Instead Enji is letting all his children free.

Even with Shouto, he doesn't insist anymore for Shouto to learn Flashfire Fist as his heir but just as an intern.

I take this is big in Japan.

Here again, not so much, especially in the countries in the west that think kids should leave their parents' home as soon as possible and we don't think our children are obliged to inherit our mantles.

Note how the story implies that this was meant to be the end for the Natsuo/Enji arc.

Natsuo made clear he didn't want to meet Enji again, he does it solely because they've to stop Touya and, once they've stopped Touya, he makes clear he doesn't want to see him again.

If we want though, the fact he's leaving the family can be seen as a concession in a way.

Since apparently Rei wants to stay with Enji (and likely their old house was devasted because that's what happens to relative of criminals) Enji can now move with Fuyumi and Rei and Natsuo won't have to see him because he'll leave home... to make his own home.

As for Shouto... Horikoshi answered his request by basically showing him Enji being a father for Touya and then promising he would protect them from the fiery fallout, which Horikoshi doesn't show at all because it's another thing that's a given in Japanese culture, it'll be hell for Enji to protect them, but not for us.

Just to get an idea of the fiery fallout here are some images from "Theseus no fune" again showing you how bad is this sort of thing.

Back to Enji, Horikoshi gives us verbal confirmation that Enji is now being a father by being willing to do this, by having Natsuo, who never called him as such, calling him father for the first time.

For Horikoshi that's Enji being a father.

Again, we've no idea of which hell Enji will suffer because that's not part of our culture. I've posted above screencaps of "Theseus no fune", that's how the fallout should be so not pretty at all.

So the fact that Enji will try to protect them from it is, again, BIG.

So yeah, Enji did do BIG things to atone and keeps on doing them and if he'll ultimately get forgiven by Natsuo (the rest of his family wanted to forgive him way before he were to do something), that's up to Natsuo... Horikoshi likely left this as open ending because he wanted to let it up to readers so as not to make them feel they were forced to forgive Enji.

In the general hopeful theme of the manga and with Natsuo acknowledging him as a cool father I guess his idea is that Natsuo too will eventually forgive him because he's kind.

I don't want to say that Natsuo forgiving Enji would be a culture clash because there's people even here that forgive their horrible parents and that's valid. Forgiving is a personal choice and one has the right to make it even if said horrible parent did nothing to deserve it.

It's up to you.

But sure is, if again we take the story at face value and not in its cultural contest, we can't see what Enji does to atone, because for us is nothing big.

It's even made worse by how Horikoshi doesn't show at all the hell Enji will go through (as for him is a given) so for us IT DOESN'T EXIST. We see Enji as having it easy, talking big but not having to face anything at all.

Honestly though... I think this is a bit of a flaw of the manga as a whole.

Way too often it prefers to focus on the good than on the bad so that the bad gets sidelined to much to the point people forget it.

There were horrible Heroes who committed crimes and had no intention to repent or stop... and we never met them. Nagant killed them off but we never met them.

Mountain Lady, who became a Hero for money and fame, then sticks to the job even when it's bad. Desugoro, who left the job when it turned bad, then came back to help. Enji is on an atonement path and, anyway, on work he was always a good Hero.

In the same way Horikoshi prefers not to show Enji's hardship but focus on how he'll have the support of his sidekicks, driver and Hawks... partly also because it ties in so well with the general message of everyone reaching out.

The result is that the Midoriya plotline of everyone reaching out becomes more important of the Enji atonement arc and overshadows it.

Enji's atonement arc ends in 426, chap 430 doesn't feel the need to tell us if Enji is keeping up with it despite the hardship, nor how his family is doing. It feels the need to reassure us that people will reach out for him even if he's in hell, that even if he had to give up on his family, he now as a new found family.

It's thematically consistent with the theme of reaching out but... the fact it overwrites the atonement arc honestly FOR ME doesn't work so great.

I think it's an overall problem of the 'reaching out message'.

While in itself is beautiful... it saves nothing I was lead to care about.

In Enji's case I was interested in his atonement arc, in how he could help his kids. I wanted more of that, partly because his atonement arc is so far from my culture, partly because it touched characters I cared about, I wanted to be reassured he would keep on working on it and that his family would be well.

Yes, he should be in hell, but the story didn't really work hard on trying to make me worry for him as it established already a support network for him. The story made me worry for the kids, for Touya, who was dying, for Fuyumi, who wanted back her family and won't have it, for Natsuo, who's marrying an unknown character so young, for Shouto, who has to cope with the loss of the brother with whom he wanted to connect.

I don't really care Burnin, Onima, Kido and Hawks are willing to continue to protect Enji, to reach out to help him, I knew they would, I wanted to be reassured Enji's kids are safe, well and protected. I wanted to see ENJI reach out and help them.

In this vein I don't really care the old grandmother saved a nameless abused kid, or, at least, not as much as I cared for Tomura to be saved. It's nice she saved him, it's nice he gets to live the life Tomura was denied but honestly, he's a mob character with a super tragic backstory created deliberately to force us to emotionally connect to him.

The message he now will be saved is good, but my emotional investment to him is too little.

The same applies to Uraraka's Quirk counsueling program, we knew next to nothing about the Quirk consueling previous program beyond that it didn't work (a real problem in Japan as they have a school consueling program that didn't work... and changes are in progress) and that now it supposedly does.

To how Shouji now solves peacefully plenty of conflicts caused by Heteromorph discrimination, which Horikoshi tossed in later and never really showed how to solve (and, don't take me wrong, it's not solved even by Shouji, he just solves peacefully the conflicts, how is up to everyone's speculation).

Long story short, I think Horikoshi worked really hard for BNHA to have an optimist, hopeful message... but part of it goes lost in cultural differences and part of it goes lost in how the story didn't try to get me invested in the things it's now saving.

So yeah, I'm still sad for this little panel in chap 430

I guess I'll eventually get over it. Today though, it's not that day.

On a positive note... if we count the pages of all the chapters that should go in vol 42 they're only 132. The chapters that were meant to go into Vol 39 had 165 (which yes, Horikoshi further expanded once the volume was released).

So yeah, unless Vol 42 will be slimmer than usual or that he'll add to it some sidestory or extra story, it's possible we'll get more plot in terms of epilogue. We'll see.

(also yes, I'm not touching Rei in this post. Rei is another can of worm entirely and one, I fear, Horikoshi doesn't care about. The poor woman doesn't even get a profile while Ikoma Komari does. And really, I do think Rei is much more important than Ikoma Komari)

Last, but not least, since someone seems to get the wrong idea, in case it wasn't clear enough, I'm not Japanese. I research on this. Through books, through the net and yeah, since I like to read manga and anime also through them which I often use as a source of comparison because they're easy, accessible to many and represent the same kind of media BNHA is so they more or less move according to the same or similar rules. I might have messed up somewhere. I encourage you to also research on the topic and take everything with a grain or two of salt.

#boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #Todoroki Enji #Todoroki Rei #Todoroki Touya #Todoroki Fuyumi #Todoroki Natsuo #Todoroki Shouto.#bnha ramblings #bnha meta

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alphazed · 4 months ago

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Javert *had* to die in the end

I have a good reason, bear with me here.

Javert jumped off that bridge because he realized he was wrong. Only at that last moment, Valjean showed him with irrefutable evidence that people can change. That criminals can become good people (good being a vague word, but you know what i mean). As a policeman, no, the law itself, how can he ever live with the fact that his rules, his morals are wrong? He comitted his whole life to this, only to realize it was all for naught. And if that sinks in.. That means he might have done wrong in the past aswell. He isn't rightous at all, he was probably wrong a lot of times. And after 52 years of life, of seeing the world only in black and white, seeing himself as a rightious agent of order, he is wrong. And he jumps of a bridge, because it's impossible for him to deal with that.

And isn't that poetic?

The law commits suicide in the face of change.

It has to.

And isn't that ultimately what Victor Hugo is describing?

Laws are inherently flawed because they do not hold up at change.

It's impossible to make something objectively inflexible apply to all situations.

They are our best attempt at ethics and fair rules in society, but they CAN be wrong. They do not hold into account the evolution of humanity, the changing of time and culture. They do not hold people into account and the way they can change. With our biggest example Valjean of course.

In how I view the book, this is what Victor Hugo is trying to tell the reader. The law doesn't hold up in the face of change. The law doesn't hold up in the face of humanity.

I think whatever else you take away from this is something you can decide for yourself, since i'm not fully sure either.

But for the narrative: Javert always had to die. Because he is the law.

#someone else probablt already did this #and i couldn't really get all my thoughts out on this #but i can't get it structured well enough for that so #but enjoy!#lmao #les mis #les miserables #jean valjean #javert #inspector javert #textpost #of course this all aint gonne be stopping me from reading javer post-seine fics #sue me

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xdistorted-realityx · 1 month ago

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Update about Venezuela

Today, October 3rd, 7 kids between 15 and 17 years old were condemned to 10 years of prison for protesting against the government. Since the national elections, today was the first time their mothers were able to see them and talk to them. They present signs of torture like missing teeth, and burnt nipples due to torture with electricity, and 2 of them expressed suicidal thoughts, even 1 of them tried to kill themselves. One girl said that a policeman offered to free her if she had sex with him.

This is what this government is doing to our people. This is how much Maduro's regime cares about children.

Many of you think that María Corina Machado, the current opposition leader, is a fascist or something like that, just because she's fighting against Chavismo, but the truth is she's fighting against a tyranny, she's fighting for every venezuelan that, on July 28th, showed their wishes to be free in the national elections. It saddens me that thousands of people around the world say that they stand up for freedom, but when it comes to fighting for freedom in a left-wing dictatorship they go blind. If you're one of those people defending Maduro's regime, let me tell you something: YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT PEOPLE. Your fight was never for freedom. You just care about your ideology, and you don't care that they're murdering innocent people, as long as they say they're socialist.

This is not over. Venezuela will be free. Hasta el final. 🇻🇪

#personal #caracas #venezuela #nicolas maduro #libertad #maria corina machado #latin america #edmundo gonzález #socialism #fuck communism #freedom #update #economy #politics #sociology

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metamorphesque · 2 months ago

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ASALA: VAN Operation, September 24 (part 2)

Please, make sure to read the first part.

Though violence is condemned, it is the cruel truth that it is the only language to which the world listens.

Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) is an Armenian underground organization, the aim of which is bringing the Armenian Question into the international political and legal dimension, and liberation of Western Armenia.

Now, why am I telling you about this today? Well, today - on September 24th marks the 43rd anniversary of the Van Operation (24/09/1981), carried out by 4 Armenian ASALA soldiers - Vazgen Sislyan, Hakob Julfayan, Gevorg Gyuzelyan and Aram Basmajyan.

On this day in 1981, four Armenian youths, aged 20-24, armed with pistols, automatic rifles, and explosives, seized the turkish consulate in Paris, holding it under their control for 15 hours.

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4 Soldiers of The Van Operation taking off their masks

I will do my best to walk you through the operation hour by hour:

At 10 a.m., in two groups (Gevorg Kyuzeleyan-Aram Pasmajyan, Vazgen Sislyan-Hakob Julfayan), the young men headed to the “Balzac” café, where they were set to meet and enter the consulate.

At 10:55, the two groups met and reorganized (Vazgen-Aram and Gevorg-Hakob);

by 11:15, they had entered the consulate. Each took their designated position. Vazgen covered the door while Aram, showing a bomb, shouted that the consulate had been taken over by ASALA's "Yeghia Keshishyan Suicide Commando." Gevorg repeated the same message in French. A turkish policeman attacked Gevorg, leading to an exchange of gunfire in which the policeman was killed (he was the only fatality). The other turkish guards were disarmed. Gevorg called several newspapers and news agencies, informing them that the operation was carried out by ASALA for political reasons, and that the consulate was under their control with 59 hostages. Initially, the news agencies did not believe the claim, as it seemed impossible that four people could seize the consulate located on the second floor of a five-story building, especially given that the entire building was under French police control and the consulate itself was guarded by turkish security. The French news agency “AFB” responded, saying that theoretically, any institution in Paris could be seized, but the turkish and israeli consulates were impossible to take over, even in theory.

About an hour after the operation began, journalists gathered on Hosman Street. Meanwhile, a French policeman entered the building from the back and shot Vazgen, wounding him. Vazgen resisted and forced the officer to retreat. Hakob was also wounded, and his injuries were severe. Most of the hostages were guarded by Aram, while Vazgen told the others about the Armenian people's struggle and the 1915 massacres.

At noon, Commissioner Brousard, one of the most skilled experts in the French police, requested negotiations over the phone. Papers outlining the group's demands were thrown out of the window. The demands were purely political: the release of Armenian, Kurdish and Turkish political prisoners held in turkish prisons.

At 12:15, one of the hostages approached the window, threw a letter down, and informed the police that the message was for them. The street had already been cordoned off with iron barricades. Reporters had gathered on the sidewalk in front of the consulate.

At 1:00 p.m., one of the hostages was instructed to approach the window again and drop a new letter, this time for the reporters.

At 1:40 p.m., the police requested that the hostages on the upper floors be allowed to move downstairs. The young men agreed, but Gevorg approached the window and informed the police that bombs were placed at all the entrances of the consulate, warning them not to attempt any attacks.

At 2:20 p.m., a French hostage who had a heart condition was provided with medication as his condition had worsened.

At 3:00 p.m., arrangements were made for the children of the hostages to return home from school.

At 4:00 p.m., Vazgen’s condition deteriorated, and medical assistance was requested over the phone from the police. The police refused the request.

At 4:10 p.m., one of the turkish hostages approached the window, declaring that the deputy consul was wounded and might die if no doctor was sent, placing responsibility on the police.

At 4:20 p.m., a doctor arrived but refused to go upstairs out of fear.

At 4:25 p.m., they contacted the police again, demanding political asylum ("asile politique") for Vazgen. The police entered into negotiations with the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

At 5:35 p.m., there was no official statement about "asile politique." One of the hostages approached the window and declared that if "asile politique" was not granted, the lives of the deputy consul and the hostages would be in danger.

At 5:55 p.m., the police officially announced on behalf of the Ministry of Internal Affairs that "asile politique" would be granted if the deputy consul was released.

At 6:20 p.m., Vazgen entered negotiations with the police over the terms of his surrender. He demanded that upon arriving at the hospital, he be allowed to speak with his comrades by phone. The police initially refused but later relented.

At 6:35 p.m., Vazgen left the consulate. The police tried to put him in an ambulance, but Vazgen resisted, standing on the sidewalk and raising the victory "V" sign with his right hand. Gevorg waited behind the window with a hostage. Vazgen tried to shout but was too weakened by blood loss. Soon after he was taken to the hospital.

At 6:50 p.m., Vazgen spoke with his comrades from the hospital and was taken to surgery.

At 7:15 p.m., food was requested for the hostages.

At 7:53 p.m., the body of the turkish policeman was removed. Interestingly enough, the hostages that were assigned to remove the body, willingly went back in after doing so, firmly deciding to stand by the cause.

At 9:00 p.m., turkish protesters tried to approach the consulate. Gevorg, Aram and Hakob threatened to throw grenades. The police halted the protest, which had about 2,000 participants. On the opposite side of the street, Armenians were also demonstrating.

At 10:10 p.m., food was delivered by the police.

At 11:00 p.m., the police demanded negotiations several times, but the group refused.

At 11:15 p.m., the deadline set by the young men for meeting their demands passed, and the noise from the turkish protesters became more frenzied.

At 11:20 p.m., gunfire was heard inside the consulate. At midnight, it was reported from inside that another wounded soldier wished to surrender, for whom "asile politique" was again demanded.

At 12:50 a.m., the police announced that the French government had decided to grant the right of political asylum to the second fighter.

At 1:00 a.m., the police were informed that the wounded fighter, like Vazgen, should descend and remain on the street. Hakob Julfayan exited. Heavily wounded, he was unable to stand on the street.

At 1:20 a.m., Hakob called his comrades from the hospital and was taken to surgery.

At 1:30 a.m., Gevorg negotiated with the police, demanding "asile politique" for the remaining fighters. The police declared that all four fighters had been granted that right. The only issue left was how they would surrender. The police demanded that they lay down their weapons and come out. Gevorg and Aram refused. At the same time, the hostages declared that if the fighters surrendered in such a manner, the police would open fire on them. By now, the hostages fully understood why the operation was happening; the boys had shared the harrowing history of the 1915 Armenian Genocide and the countless other atrocities. So, when ASALA fighters Gevorg and Aram were ready to leave, the female hostages, of their own accord, surrounded the two in an effort to shield them from being shot by the police. This same pattern can be observed in many of ASALA’s operations: hostages, journalists, and even those injured during the operations later became supporters of the Armenian Cause.

At 2:20 a.m., Gevorg and Aram surrendered. After holding 59 hostages for more than 15 hours, the four fighters of the Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) entered into negotiations with the turkish government, mediated by the French government. Naturally, the turkish government did not meet their demands.

However, it was the trial of these four soldiers that painted the operation in colors of victory. It was the first political trial since the 1921 trial of Soghomon Tehlirian. The trial of the four fighters became a platform for condemning Turkey for its crimes against humanity.

The Armenian cause was vigorously defended by a constellation of prominent lawyers in France, including Leclerc, Tejan, Signar, Patrick Devedjian, Aslanyan and Peshtimaljian.

Entering the court smiling, the handcuffed defendants all made the victory "V" sign with their hands. Defendant Kevork Guzelian told the court: "Whatever your verdict, our action is already a victory."

At the trial, the widow of France’s national hero, Missak Manouchian, Mrs. Meliné, delivered a speech condemning genocidal Turkey, and with the judge’s permission, kissed the foreheads of the four fighters, an exception made especially for her. Letters from Charles Aznavour and Henri Verneuil were also read. The singer Liz Saryan was also present at the hearings. The benevolent attitude of the president of the court was remarkable, who throughout the trial urged the audience to refrain from labeling the action of ASALA as “terrorism” and the heroes of the brigade as “terrorists”. They might have been labeled as terrorists, but their actions had nothing to do with terrorism; they were part of a struggle for liberation from an occupying genocidal state. Would anyone call the partisans of Belarus, France, Greece or Yugoslavia, who fought against fascism, terrorists, too?

“It is very important that the society understands the essence of the case, the origins of the Armenian question. Terrorism and genocide are what was committed against the Armenian people, but the people sitting in front of us are not terrorists, they are the descendants of the victims of terrorism and genocide," — said Devejian during the first court hearing

The long trial of the battle group was in itself a great anti-turkish war. The trial of “VAN” turned into a trial of the Turkish government.

The “VAN” operation and the political trial that followed it played a major role in bringing the Armenian issue to the international political arena, globalizing the territorial claim and the violated rights of the Armenian people, creating a new wave of condemnation of the reality of the Armenian genocide, strengthening the pride and spirit of struggle among Armenians.

The four fighters– Vasken Sako Sislian, Kevork Abraham Guzelian, Aram Avedis Basmajian and Hagop Abraham Dzhulfayan – were convicted on 31 January 1984 to 7 years in prison (including the years of their stay in detention pending trial). During the reading of the verdict, the majority of the participants also got up upon hearing the words “accused, stand up”. Singer Rosy Armen sang “Wake Up, Lao”, (a popular Armenian revolutionary folk song) and she was joined by the many voices of those present. In 1986, while still serving their sentence, three of the fighters - Vazgen, Gevorg and Hagop graduated from the Sorbonne University in Paris. Of the four fighters, three survived prison; Aram Basmajyan committed suicide in 1985. He is buried in Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris (his symbolic grave is located in Yerablur, in the symbolic pantheon of martyrs under the shadow of ASALA’s memorial monument at the entrance to the Armenian Pantheon of Immortals).

Vazgen, Gevorg and Hakob were released early in August 1986 and returned to Lebanon. Years later, all three settled in Armenia. Gevorg Kyuzelian became the commander of the "Metsn Murad" detachment and participated in the Artsakh Liberation War. Vazgen Sislyan also made contributions to the liberation battles.

When all the hope has slipped away, It’s the mad who find a way.

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uwmspeccoll · 5 days ago

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Milestone Monday

On this day, November 11 in 1887, four convicted anarchists, German-American businessman George Engel (b. 1836), German-American printer Adolph Fischer (b. 1858), and American journalists and activists Albert Parsons (b. 1848) and August Spies (b. 1855), were executed as a result of the Haymarket Affair, the aftermath of a bombing that took place at a labor demonstration on May 4, 1886, at Haymarket Square in Chicago. A fifth conspirator, Louis Lingg (b. 1864) committed suicide in his cell the day before his execution.

The bombing had left one person dead and several workers injured, and ensuing retaliatory gunfire by the police caused the deaths of seven police officers and at least four civilians, with dozens of others wounded. The incident was the climax of the social unrest among the working class in America known as the Great Upheaval.

Among supporters of the labor movement, the trial was widely believed to have been unfair, and even a serious miscarriage of justice. The progressive governor of Illinois John Peter Altgeld noted that the state "never discovered who it was that threw the bomb which killed the policeman, and the evidence does not show any connection whatsoever between the defendants and the man who threw it." Albert Parsons and Adolph Fischer were not even present during the bombing. They along with Parson's wife and fellow activist Lucy Parsons (c. 1851–1942) and their two children were at Zepf's Hall nearby and heard the blast. Lucy urged Parsons to flee the city, which he did, eventually laying low in Waukesha, Wisconsin where he worked as a laborer and stayed with the family of Daniel Hoan, the future Socialist mayor of Milwaukee. There he remained until June 21, but afterward turned himself in to stand in solidarity with his comrades who had been arrested.

Lingg, Spies, Fischer, Engel, and Parsons were buried at the German Waldheim Cemetery by what is now the Haymarket Martyrs' Monument. In 1889, a commemorative nine-foot bronze statue of a Chicago policeman by sculptor Johannes Gelert was erected in the middle of Haymarket Square.

The images shown here are from:

The Rise and Fall of Anarchy in America by George N. McLean, published in Chicago & Philadelphia by R. G. Badoux & Co. in 1888.

Anarchy and Anarchists by Michael J. Schaack, published in Chicago by F. J. Schulte & Company in 1889.

Twenty-fifth Anniversary, Eleventh of November, Memorial Edition: Souvenir Edition of the Famous Speeches of Our Martyrs published in Chicago by Lucy Parsons in 1912.

View more Milestone Monday posts.

#Milestone Monday #milestones #Haymarket Affair #Haymarket Massacre #executions #George Engel #Adolph Fischer #August Spies #Louis Lingg #Albert Parsons #Lucy Parsons #anarchism #anarchists #Haymarket Square

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incorrect-coai-quotes · 1 year ago

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Megure, going through a nervous breakdown: I’m such an incompetent inspector.

Takagi: What are you saying, sir? You’re the most valuable policeman I know!

Megure: But even a kid outsmarts me! That little four-eyed brat!

Takagi: Conan-kun?

Megure: Yeah.

Megure: Once, we found a corpse alone in a house. Death by drowning.

Megure: I said suicide, Mouri-kun said suicide, everyone said suicide.

Megure: Than the brat arrived and asked “where’s the water?”

Megure: The room had no water. Simple. Yet none of us had noticed it!

Takagi:

Megure: I’m such an incompetent inspector!

#detective conan #kudo shinichi #edogawa conan #inspector megure #juzo megure #takagi wataru #case closed #dcmk #meitantei holmes #sauce: detective monk

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medusapelagia · 3 months ago

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21 Merry Christmas

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Please ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Absurd Tragedy) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: parents death, homicide-suicide, gun violence, tragedy Words: 1259

Steve has always known his father was a cheater. That’s why if his mom used to fly with him everywhere it was to surprise him, and not in a good way, but it was their routine, after twenty-five years of marriage Steve knew that his mom would stay at home the first days of school just to make sure to leave a good impression on his teachers and then she would have flown away toward Chicago, or New York, or even Shanghai.

What he was not expecting was having both of them home for Christmas, a big ham in the oven, and some friends over. People Steve has met a couple of times in his life, but it almost felt like they are a normal family. A big Christmas Tree covered in so many lights and decorations you couldn’t even tell if the tree is real or fake, standing in the entrance, like the ones they used to choose when he was a kid and his father still drove him to the tree farm to choose the best one.

Being used to being alone in the huge home, the chatting of the people was a welcomed soundtrack to Steve’s day and he didn’t care if some of his father’s friends were commenting on the fact he didn’t go to college and he was working at the local video store, his parents were home, the house finally smelled like home and the table was full of food and people. Everything Steve has ever asked for.

Steve’s mom steps closer to him, offering him a glass of champagne to celebrate Christmas Eve, “You’re going to visit the Hendersons tomorrow, right?”

“I usually do, but I can stay if you want.”

“There’s no need, sweety. I want you to have fun with your friends. Your Dad and I can enjoy some alone time. God knows we never get enough.” She smiles brightly and her white teeth shine thanks to the Christmas lights.

The party doesn’t go on too long, just after midnight all the guests start to get back to their homes, knowing that the next day they are expecting to celebrate with their families and Steve goes to bed too, feeling extremely tired.

He wishes good night to his parents, eager for the morning to come to open his presents. The three of them haven’t sat in front of a Christmas Tree in years.

What he’s not expecting is being awakened by Jim Hopper, with his hat in his hand while he shakes Steve’s awake.

“Hop? What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking immediately for his nailed bat, “Are they back? Demothings? I have the bat in the back of my closet.”

Hopper’s face is serious and sad, while he looks at him, “Get dressed Steve, the Munson’s kid is waiting for you downstairs.”

“What? No! I can’t! I have to open the Christmas present with my parents and go to the Hendersons for the Christmas lunch.” he complains, but Hopper shakes his head.

“You’re late for lunch. That’s why Claudia called me.”

Late? Steve couldn’t have slept so long, he went to bed just after midnight. But a quick look at his clock alarm tells him that it's already three in the afternoon. Why didn’t mom wake him up? She knew Steve was supposed to have lunch with the Hendersons.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Get dressed, I’ll explain everything.”

“Let me get through! You fucking moron! Hopper called me! I’m his friend! Let me fucking get through!”

Eddie? His voice sounds panicked.

“Hopper, what’s going on?” Steve asks again, staring at the policeman in his striped pajamas.

“Trust me. It’s better if you get dressed and make a little bag with a few things. You’re going to stay with the Munsons for a little bit. We already talked and…”

“You, who? And why do I have to leave my house? And where are my parents? Mom! Dad!” Steve starts to scream, trying to get to the door, but Hopper stops him.

“Do as I told you!”

“No! I want to know what happened! Mom! Mom!”

“Stop screaming! She won’t answer!”

Steve turns abruptly, “What does it mean? Why won't she? Did they leave again? Without telling me? That’s why you are here? Well, let me tell you, I have lived on my own long enough that I can take care of myself.”

“Steve.”

“What? What are you trying to avoid saying to me?!”

Hopper plays with his hat for a bit before saying, “They are dead.”

“So… sorry. What?”

“Your parents are dead, your house is a crime scene and I need you to leave and stay at Munson.”

“That’s not possible! I saw them last night. We had a big party. They bought me presents I have to open and…”

“Your mom left a letter for you. Your dad was going to ask for a divorce to marry his new young secretary, and she wasn’t going to have it. She told him she wanted a last Christmas together, as a family. She drugged you and your father adding something to the champagne and then she shot him and then herself. Now can you fucking get dressed?!” the policeman yells, before brushing a hand on his face, “Sorry, kid. I… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Well, that’s what a very shitty way!” Eddie screams, finally getting into Steve’s room and immediately hugging him tight.

Steve’s shaking, shocked, standing in his pajamas and his sock feet.

“Why don’t you put on a pair of shoes and a jacket? Hopper will grab the things you might need and take them to the trailer, because we’re leaving.” Eddie declares, glaring at Hopper and the chief of police nods quietly.

Steve is too astonished to do anything at all, so Eddie helps him sit on his bed and put on a pristine pair of white Nike, before grabbing the puffer jacket he finds in Steve's closet and walking him outside.

For a brief moment, Steve catches a glimpse of the moquette stained with blood, a white silhouette drawn on the carpet, and the flash of a photo camera, but Eddie is dragging him outside.

The air is crispy and Steve feels like he can’t breathe.

“Ready to go?” Eddie asks once they are both in his beaten van.

“Please.”

When Eddie starts the van, for the first time ever Steve doesn’t have to cover his ears to protect them from the music blasting from the stereo and he misses it. It’s way too quiet, but he doesn’t want to talk either, so he keeps staring out of the window.

It must have snowed during the night because the streets are covered in white and soft clouds. Some kids at the trailer park are having snowball battles. They hit Eddie in the back but he doesn’t join them, too occupied with dragging Steve inside the trailer. They don’t even make it to the door that Mr. Munson is already standing there, his arms extended and ready to hold Steve’s weight, and Steve does the only thing he can think of, throws himself into the old man's arms, crumbling like he has no strength left.

Mr. Munson doesn’t comment when he sees Steve’s still wearing his pajamas, he makes some hot chocolate and puts on some old country records that play softly in the background, one arm around Steve’s shoulder and Eddie sitting on Steve’s other side.

An absurd tragedy, that’s what the local news will call the event, but for Steve, is the end of the world.

#au gust #steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #writing prompt #prompt challenge #fandom event #au gust 2024 #alternate universe #writing challenge #steddie event #stranger things #angst #angsty august

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toweringclam · 3 months ago

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Limbus OC: Vidocq

Name: Vidocq Gender: Female Age: Older, possibly 40s Height: 5'10" Weapon: Justice (a short truncheon) Color: Police Blue (#374f6b) Emoji: 🚨 Hair: Brown with streaks of grey Skin: Mediterranean Build: broad-shouldered but slim and lanky Literary Reference: Javert, from Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.

Attire: Wears her uniform exactly to regulation. She's the only one who buttons her shirt all the way to the top, with her tie tightened like a noose.

EGO: "Chute de la Barricade." A massive barricade raises from the ground, lifting up Vidocq. Near the top, yet not at the pinnacle, she says, "To remain in my former uprightness would not suffice..." then kicks it, causing a cascade of random objects that fall on the enemies for AOE damage. A close look at the barricade shows it's made of symbols of law and justice like police cars, gavels, blind justice statues, etc.

Assessment: A coin balanced on the edge. Her demeanor is strict and authoritarian, but fraying at the edges. Violation of the letter of the law and foolhardy adherence to the law are likely to be equally upsetting. Allowing her to enforce discipline amongst the others will give her a sense of order. However, if she starts thinking that she's actually in charge, questioning her ethics or undermining her authority will unmoor her and make her easier to control.

Background: In a District where Order reigns supreme, she was born in the worst of circumstances: Inside a jail. From an early age Vidocq was branded as a criminal in the making and treated as such. She internalized this idea, but also recognized that the same traits that made her a natural criminal also made her a natural enforcer of the Law.

Vidocq joined the Wing security forces and at first they gave her the worst, lowest-ranking positions like overseeing the very jail she was born. Her commitment to guiding principles of Order, Law, and Justice brought her attention and she quickly rose up the ranks. However, that prison also sowed the seeds of her downfall, for there was when she first met a prisoner named Jean, doing hard labor for the crime of stealing bread to feed her starving niece.

Fate had bound the two together. Wherever they went, the other would follow without even realizing it. At every turn, Jean bested her, but for some reason showed Vidocq mercy even as she ruined Jean's every attempt at building a new life. This made no sense. In Vidocq's mind, there was only black and white, good and evil, order and chaos. If someone did not strictly abide by the Law they were a criminal. The only path to redemption was the one she herself took, of hunting down those who were inherently criminal.

It came to a head during a revolt by the Yurodiviye. Vidocq tried to infiltrate the rebel forces, but was quickly found out and set to be executed. Jean not only spared her, which Vidocq could rationalize. She saved her life. Stuck her neck out for her long-time nemesis. Later, when the barricade fell and the Wing forces overran the rebels, Vidocq finally found Jean at her mercy. Yet should couldn't do it. This criminal who had so defined her life had shown her mercy she herself had never given anyone.

Suffering a crisis of conscience and her entire worldview collapsing, Vidocq hurled herself into a river, but her suicide attempt failed. She lived, but now she herself was branded a traitor. Everyone believed she had been in league with Jean and the Yurodiviye for all these years. She joined with Limbus with the promise that they would arrange one final meeting with her nemesis.

(Note: The name actually comes from a real-world criminal-turned-policeman, who served as the inspiration for both Javert and the entire "consulting detective" genre)

#limbus company #lcb #limbus oc #limbus company oc #lcb oc #project moon #les mis #les miserables #victor hugo #javert

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whumpslist · 1 year ago

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Will Trent’s whumps’ list

[referred to main male character: Will Trent, portrayed by Ramón Rodríguez: *bonus: Michael Ormewood, portrayed by Jake McLaughlin.]

Season 1

.01: argued, disappointed for his car being vandalized, ostracized and despised by practically all his colleagues, painful memories seeing and old acquaintance from the orphanage, argued, slapped in the face and brief scuffle, telling about being badly bullied in his childhood, upset witnessing a suicide, torturing a handkerchief whenever he is under emotional distress, telling about his childhood to his partner, feeling uncomfortable getting undressed because of the various nasty scars on his body, frustrated about his dyslexia and calling himself names.

.02: oppositional discussion with a suspect twice, upset and frustated, argued, under gunpoint, scuffle, under gunpoint and shot at without being hit.

.03: chained ankle, under gunpoint, worried for his partner, difficult conversation with his girlfriend.

.04: difficult conversation with his girlfriend from previous episode, worried for his partner, nightmare, difficulties to concentrate ruminating and frustrated, confessed his partner he’s dyslexic; bonus Ormewood: angry, badly fallen and injured ankle, angry, tazed and kidnapped, bloody face, villain pushing over his injured ankle and making him scream in pain, fought, chased and limping, heavily panting, rescued.

.05: worried for his dog and badly argued with his girlfriend, dyslexic difficulties, argued, annoyed, grabbed a hot pan from the oven overthinking and screaming in pain, annoyed and frustrated, speechless and upset.

.06: disappointed, argued, followed by a car, witnessed a murder and splashed with blood on his sweater, into a gunfight, called names by a policeman.

.07: fast forward: laying barely conscious and passed out; scars all over his naked torso, receiving upsetting news and a bit shaken, pensive, painful memories and sighed, argued and emotionally hurt, hit at his arm by a crowbar losing his gun, attacked by multiple opponents and fought back, slammed against a car then hit at his back by a bat, chased, bleeding from his forehead and neck, passed out, recovering consciousness and bloody wound on his forehead, blood on his hands and handkerchief, feeling hopeless and sighing, rescued and heavily breathing, patch on his forehead and ice pack, sighing, disappointed.

.08: painful memories, brief scuffle, falsely accused and outraged, pensive and sad, told about his past when he shoplifted for food and arrested by police, on the edge of cry and trembling voice, sad.

.09: worried for his kidnapped partner, argued with his boss' boss, argued twice, heavily breathing after a physical effort, worried.

.10: under gunfire, upset and told about a child abuse he suffered, sad and painful memories, grabbed by his jacket, under gunfire, under gunpoint, getting emotional.

.11: brief scuffle, undercover into a drug crew, scuffle in the past, painful past and present memories, upsetting discover and argued with his girlfriend, ambushed and under heavy gunfire, bleeding scratch on his upper thigh and treated on the field, arrested and handcuffed, hooded and taken, roughed up a bit, grunting and heavily breathing, punched in the flank again, old scars on his back, moaning touching the sore spot, under gunpoint and almost cover blown, brief fight, under gunfire and fought, sad break-up.

.12: sad, received upsetting news, argued with his (ex) girlfriend, badly argued with his boss then his partner, angry for being taken off the case, received very upsetting news about his mother, argued and very upset, tense and worried.

.13: worried sick from previous episode for his (ex) girlfriend’s fate, tense relationship with his boss and getting emotional over his dead mother’s case, almost run over by a car, nasty confrontation, under gunfire, angry and worried, frustrated about his dyslexia and calling himself names, tense and fought, heavely panting and angry, upset, worried and bruised face and nuckles, received upsetting news and getting emotional.

Season 2

.01: uneasy speaking in public, hallucinations and painful memories of the past, tackled a man without consequences, under gunfire and tackled a man again, uncomfortable conversation, various nasty scars on his body, argued, hit by explosion blast and mild scratches at his face, grunting and heavily breathing, in shock and flashbacks, bruised face and unable to accept other people’s trying to take care of him; bonus Ormewood: suspicious, upset and argued with his son, sick worried, hit by some debris by the explosion.

.02: upset and bruised face from previous episod, unpleasant conversation with his supposed father, disappointed, provocked and upset, flashbacks, chain around his neck and rough fight, flashbacks.

.03: avoiding conversation about what happened in the first episode, tense, flashbacks and sighing, uneasy conversation, intense situation and touched, voice cracked and on the verge of tears, pensive.

.04: painful memories and hallucination, skeptical and annoyed, uneasy conversation with his partner and grimacing for emotional pain, remembering his past talking to a witness, grunting in frustration for his dyslexia, uneasy and sighing repeatedly.

.05: annoyed and uneasy, argued with collegues twice, nasty conversation and upset, unpleasant conversation, scared and argued, T-boned and car accident, bloody face and unconscious, cut on his forehead.

.06: stressed out and anxious, uneasy, unpleasant conversation, under gunpoint and brief scuffle, uneasy.

.07: nervous and bickering, into a hostage situation and under gunpoint, flashbacks from the past, threatened repeatedly, almost killed and rescued, still shaken and upset for the whole situation and the flashbacks, hand trembling.

.08: talking to his flashbacks and sighing, laying on the floor, flashbacks from the past repeatedly, hissing sound and grimacing, breathing heavely and upsetting memories, agitated and uspet reenacting his memories, breathing shakily and crying for guilt.

.09: uneasy ed lught emotional distress, worried for his uncle, tears in his eyes.

.10: shocked and upset, tears in his eyes, coflicted ans sad, upset.

Renewed for a 3rd Season

In the original books (by Karin Slaughter):

1. "Triptych": uncomfortable, argued, reported scars from his past, angry, worried sick for his girlfriend, angry.

2. "Fractured": scuffle and punched on the nose, black eyes, fought and gun pointed at his head, gun failed to shoot twice, remembering past abuses during an interrogation, tackled and panting, upset witnessing a suicide, frustrated, trembling hand.

3. "Undone": worried for his partner, under gunpoint and argued, scratched by rats on his arm, overwhelmed and claustrophobic, itchy scratched arm, uneasy, remembering when he was hit by a tazer, upset and sweating after hearing his wife after she left him, worried and angry, lost temper and manhandled, scolded by his boss and feeling guilty, upset, hand and arm medicated and patched, badly argued with his wife and scuffle, new sctraches on his hands, bad memories and tired, very sore back after a long journey, panting after a chasing, stabbed at his shoulder from behind and passed out, regaining consciousness laying and bleeding on the floor with the knife still stuck in him, sweating and in much pain, almost stabbed again and rescued at the last moment, passed out, in hospital and surgery only briefly mentioned, arm secured to the chest by a tight bandage and in pain.

4. "Broken": scars on his body, uneasy, feeling inadequate and uncomfortable because of his dyslexia, remembered he broke his hand in the past and sore at his fingers when it's cold outside, irritated, remembered his girlfriend gave him syphilis years ago and he had to take pills, blister on the heel and limping, feeling stupid and mortified asking for help, remembering his difficul past, worried.

5. "Fallen": uncomfortable, worried for his partner, his wife told about when he slashed his arm, confused, feeling nausea for high speed, shot at and cut at his ear, into a gunfight, worried sick, furious, headache and sweating, roughly grabbed, lost balance and fallen to the floor, sad and shaken, badly argued with his wife, emotionally hurt and scared, cried, slapped repeatedly and scuffle with his wife, trembling hands, embarassed, shaken and worried, hidden into a trunk and very uncomfortable, furious, sore at his shoulders, called names, told about when and why he slashed his arm in the past, heart broken, embarassed.

5.5. "Snatched": bored, conflicted and feeling guilty, worried.

6. "Criminal": confused, told about his past in the orphanage, angry and sweating, argued, kneed himself on the nose and skinned his ankle by accident, bleeding wounds, receciving upsetting news, treated in hospital for his cut ankle and sewn wound, extremely upset and uncommunicative, furious, muscle contraction in his biceps, hand lacerations and splinter of wood in the palm of his hand, screaming in pain and frustration, exhausted, hurting remembering his past and his mother's murder, remembered beign slapped hard in the past, teased a cuticle on his hand until it bled, difficult conversation with his wife, no sleep and looking awful, bruised hands and bloodshot eyes, upset, staggered with exhaustion and pain both physical and emotional, besieged at home and frustrated, argued with his partner and angry, told about his past when he shoplifted for food and arrested by police, when he was on the streets and had been beaten, broken his nose and fingers, nervous and sad, shocked and buckled knees, violent reaction in the face of his father's corpse and subdued by the police, difficult conversation with his boss then his uncle, emotional and on the edge of tears.

6.5. "Busted": undercover and stuck during a robbery, fought and broken nose, almost shot, motorbike accident during a chasing, treated on ambulance and sore at his shoulder.

7. "Unseen": shocked, uneasy and sketchy, uncomfortable situation and feeling guilty, sore after riding a motorbike, threatened, punched in the face and provocked, worried, scared, feeling uneasy, shocked, into a dangerous situation and surrounded, punched in the face and almost threw up, grabbed and restrained, terrified, cut with a knife under his eye and into his ear, terrified, shook his head and bloody cuts, stripped and naked, old scars all over his body, brief scuffle, shocked witnessing a brutal murder, badly argued with his girlfriend and desperate, slapped repeatedly and scratched on his neck and back, rough sex and heavily panting, distraught and unstable on his legs, on his knees to throw up, badly kicked in the head and almost knocked out, punched and almost strangled to death, rescued at the last moment, badly coughing and sore, threw up, handcuffed and arrested (for fake), helped sitting up and stumbling repeatedly, head between your knees to keep from throwing up again, badly confused and treated on the field by his partner, terribly painful to swallow, heartbroken, painful to talk and heavily bruised face with broken nose, shocked, badly coughing, feeling guilty then vulnerable, coughing, shocked and agitated, brief scuffle, tased and collapsed, regaining consciousness wobbly and headache, blurred vision, hands and feet tied up, gun pointed at his head twice, almost shot to death, threatened to be killed with a knife, feeling weak, heavily bruised face.

8. "The Kept Woman": worried for his dog, uncertain, umconfortable position, frustrated and clenched jaw, receiving shocking news and seeking for support against a wall, frantic and worried sick, argued with his girlfriend, agitated, reported scars from his past, fallen into a hole and deep laceration at his calf, blood dripping from his leg into the shoe, angry and punched a collegue, bruised and bloody hand after the punch, frantic, very painful emotional memories, argued, heavily sweating and panting, brief dizziness and seeking for support against a wall, feeling sick, dressed his wound at home but blood stained his jeans, nervous and tense, trembling hands, bad memories, emotional chat, shocked, reported scars from his past, rubbing his chest in pain, red an awful letter from his wife and pale, confused, coughing and shaken, wound attended at home without any anesthesia and very painful procedure, pain at his chest and arm, chest pain and gasping for air, angry and tense, on his knees, chest pain for a panic attack, feeling calmer after taking (part of) Xanax, feeling the grief, (previously) under gunpoint and trigger pulled but no bullets fired, upset and angry, phone altercation with his wife and receiving upsetting news, shaking so hard he had to sit up, unable to speak, receiving upsetting news, sleepless and agitated night, violent reaction in front of his wife, pushed away twice, receiving upsetting news, shocked and covered in blood (not his), unable to see and helped, painful conversation about his past, difficult conversation with his girlfriend.

8.5. "Cleaning the Gold": brief scuffle, into a gunfight, punched in the ear and elbowed in the kidneys, bruised hands after the altercation, shocked, uncertain.

9. "The Last Widow": painful memories about his childhood, feeling inadequate, pensive, shocked, into a dangerous situation and under gunpoint, fear for his girlfriend, tackled down and hit his againt the concrete, attacked and viciously hit at his torso many times, fought and bruised knuckles, rechting and in pain, almost kicked and fought, worried sick for his girlfriend’s fate, emotional pain for his almost-mother-in-law’s words, feeling sick and light sensitivity, spinning world and seeking support, in pain and vomiting, passed out, regaining consciousness in hospital, almost fallen from the hospital gurney, light sensitivity, coughing and slumped, torso full of bruises, probbed and tested, helped walking and in pain, almost slipped and spike of pain at his ribs, felt a metallic stitch at his neck, helped for the TAC exam, seeing double, reported a microlaceration in the periosteum of the rib, made him smell the ammonium salts, dismayed and very difficult emotional conversation with his girlfriend’s parents, in pain and moaning, heavily bruised knuckles, still very sore and headache, grimacing and suppressing his pain, going undercover, emotional distress, into a furious gunfight, under gunpoint, on the edge thinking his girlfriend was murdered, feeling guilty.

10. "The Silent Wife": uncertain and uneasy, got a scare, IN PROGRESS

11. "After That Night"

Isolation by NatK

#Will Trent #Ramón Rodríguez #whumpslist #episode guide #Michael Ormewood #Jake McLaughlin #books #Karin Slaughter #book whump

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scotianostra · 1 year ago

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On 17th August 2010 Bill Millin, piper to Lord Lovat at D Day, died, aged 88.

Born on 14th July 1922 Saskatchewan, Canada to a father of Scottish origin who moved the family to Canada but returned to Glasgow as a policeman when William was three. He grew up and went to school in the Shettleston are of the city. He joined the Territorial Army in Fort William, where his family had moved, and played in the pipe bands of the Highland Light Infantry and the Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders before volunteering as a commando and training with Lovat at Achnacarry along with French, Dutch, Belgian, Polish, Norwegian, and Czechoslovakian troops.

Lord Lovat had appointed his personal piper during commando training at Achnacarry, and was the only man during the D Day landing who wore a kilt – it was the same Cameron tartan kilt his father had worn in Flanders during World War I – and he was armed only with his pipes and the sgian-dubh sheathed inside his kilt-hose on the right side.

Taken from accounts of 6th June 1944 on Sword Beach Normandy.

Bill began his apparently suicidal serenade immediately upon jumping from the ramp of the landing craft into the icy water on D Day. As the Cameron tartan of his kilt floated to the surface he struck up with Hieland Laddie. He continued even as the man behind him was hit, dropped into the sea and sank.Once ashore Millin did not run, but walked up and down the beach, blasting out a series of tunes. After Hieland Laddie, Lovat, the commander of 1st Special Service Brigade (1 SSB), raised his voice above the crackle of gunfire and the crump of mortar, and asked for another. Millin strode up and down the water’s edge playing The Road to the Isles.

Bodies of the fallen were drifting to and fro in the surf. Soldiers were trying to dig in and, when they heard the pipes, many of them waved and cheered — although one came up to Millin and called him a “mad bastard”.His worst moments were when he was among the wounded. They wanted medical help and were shocked to see this figure strolling up and down playing the bagpipes. To feel so helpless, Millin said afterwards, was horrifying. For many other soldiers, however, the piper provided a unique boost to morale. “I shall never forget hearing the skirl of Bill Millin’s pipes,” said one, Tom Duncan, many years later. “It is hard to describe the impact it had. It gave us a great lift and increased our determination. As well as the pride we felt, it reminded us of home and why we were there fighting for our lives and those of our loved ones.”

When the brigade moved off, Millin was with the group that attacked the rear of Ouistreham. After the capture of the town, he went with Lovat towards Bénouville, piping along the road.

They were very exposed, and were shot at by snipers from across the canal. Millin stopped playing. Everyone threw themselves flat on the ground — apart from Lovat, who went down on one knee. When one of the snipers scrambled down a tree and dived into a cornfield, Lovat stalked him and shot him. He then sent two men into the corn to look for him and they came back with the corpse. “Right, Piper,” said Lovat, “start the pipes again.”

At Bénouville, where they again came under fire, the CO of 6 Commando asked Millin to play them down the main street. He suggested that Millin should run, but the piper insisted on walking and, as he played Blue Bonnets Over the Border, the commandos followed.

When they came to the crossing which later became known as Pegasus Bridge, troops on the other side signalled frantically that it was under sniper fire. Lovat ordered Millin to shoulder his bagpipes and play the commandos over. “It seemed like a very long bridge,” Millin said afterwards.

The pipes were damaged by shrapnel later that day, but remained playable. Millin was surprised not to have been shot, and he mentioned this to some Germans who had been taken prisoner.They said that they had not shot at him because they thought he had gone off his head.

The pictures shows Millin playing at Edinburgh Castle in 2001, on Sword beach, 1994 and his statue there which was unveiled in 2013.

#scotland #scottish #history #musician #bagpipes #d day landings #Soldier #World War 2

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ilovedazaiosamu · 2 years ago

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Why not me?

author’s note: hi☺️ i had a bad and horrible week and why not some dazai angst? also please forgive me if this fanfic isn’t satisfying enough for you.

characters : dazai, reader(you), another woman

genre: angst, hurt/no comfort, you died,|| by suicide, lmao

summary : Osamu Dazai, your husband, gets bored of you and decides to get into a relationship with another person, you find out. What happens next?

I recommend you to listen to Mitski while reading this, especially the song “why didn’t you stop me?” or “washing machine heart”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were waiting for Dazai to come home from work, he usually came home earlier than you but ever since last week, he started to come home late.

You then decided to make dinner for yourself and him while waiting. The door creeked open, and behind the door was Dazai. “Samu!! where were you? why were you taking so long to get out of work?” you asked him in a curious tone. ‘Dammit, when can she shut the fuck up?’ Dazai thought to himself, wondering when can you stop trying to meddle into his problems, “Oh, something just came up at work. Now can you please get off of me? I want to change.” Dazai responded to you. You wondered why he was suddenly so distant from the past few weeks, then you saw something you didn’t want to see.

‘A fucking hickey? on his fucking neck? is he cheating on me? Am I not good enough for him? Should I ask him about it?’ You thought to yourself. “Is there something wrong, Belladonna?” Dazai asked you, in a worried tone, you shook your head and brushed your thoughts away. “Did you have your dinner yet, ‘Samu?” “Oh yeah, I did, no need to make me dinner, I’m full” ‘Yeah full eating out someone else’s pussy’ you thought to yourself.

“Oh okay. I’ll go to bed now.” You responded to him. Walking to your shared bed, knowing that your husband doesn’t love you anymore, and that your nightmare came true. “Why not me?” You whispered to yourself, closing your eyes to go to sleep and wish for a great dream.

The next morning

You woke up, not feeling Dazai’s presence in your bed. Frowning, you got up to shower and went to the pharmacy, planning to buy medicine because it felt like you had a headache . As you were walking home, you saw Dazai, at a restaurant, sitting with another woman. You decided to let him be because why would you interrupt him from being happy? You saw him smiling at the woman, holding her hand, wishing that it was you instead. You were about a few meters away from your house, and near your house, there was an alleyway. “SOMEONE!! PLEASE HELP ME!” a voice screamed, you wondered who it was, and being worried and curious, you ran to the alleyway to help the person who was screaming for help.

You saw a girl, who looked like she was only 14, holding another girl in her arms, which you assumed that it’s someone probably important for her, both being held hostage. “Hey, are you okay?” You asked running towards them in a worried tone. “You bitch! Get away from the children or I’ll shoot.” the kidnapper shouted, threatening and holding unto the gun. Little did they know, a policeman is running to the commotion because of the little girl’s scream for help. You suddenly jumped in front of the gun, and out of luck, only your shoulder was shot at and not anywhere at your chest. “Run, please, I can handle it, and please, get some help.” You said to the little girl who was shocked. She ran into the policeman who was on his way to see what happened in the scene. “Sir! please! Help the woman there! She got shot!!” She cried at the policeman as he went and saw your body on the floor, unconscious due to loss of too much blood. As for the kidnapper there, he tried to run but he couldn’t. He ended up getting arrested, and for the girl, she went back to her family safely with her sister. Oh… but for you? You ended up in the hospital. Once you woke up, you got questioned if you had anyone close to you to visit you by the nurse. “Oh.. yes, I do, his name is Dazai Osamu, he is my husband. Now where is my phone? I’ll call him.” “Ma’am, I’m sorry but calls are not allowed in the hospital unless the staff is the one calling.” “What about you call him? I’m sure you won’t mind, right?” “Of course. I’ll give him a call that you’re injured and that you’re in the hospital, anything extra you want to say to him?” “No, thank you” you responded to the offer. The nurse went outside to call Dazai by using your phone. She then went back inside after 2-4 minutes and gave your phone back. “Please call for me if you have any complications with moving or if anything hurts. I’ll get the doctors, okay?” the nurse said. “Alright.” You responded.

Soon after Dazai ran to the hospital, leaving his mistress alone for the date.

“Belladonna! Are you okay? the nurse told me you got shot and lost alot of blood!! Oh please, tell me you are!” Dazai barged into your room, the nurse telling him to be quiet politely and left the two of you alone. “Belladonna? is there something wrong? Do you feel unwell?” “Of course I do, Samu, you think seeing your own husband going out with other woman doesn’t make you sick?” Dazai’s eyes widened to your response, wondering how you found out. “Suprised? Oh don’t even think you’re that good at hiding things away from me. I know you better than I know myself. You are just like a part of me, Dazai. We’ve been together for years and you think you can still hide stuff away from me?” “Belladonna- I’m sorry, okay? Please forgive me, I really am. When I heard from the nurse that you got shot, it made me feel an uneasy feeling in my stomach too. I’m so sorry, belladonna, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “Am I not good enough for you, Osamu?” you said with teary eyes, not daring to look right at him. “Belladonna, you are, I am just such a selfish man and I thought I didn’t deserve you because you were beyond the meaning of the word kindness. Please, my love, don’t leave me.” “I won’t leave you, but you deserve someone much more better than me, Osamu. I kind of need some space right now, honey, so please leave me alone.” “As you wish, my beloved.” Dazai said as he left a room, with a sad look on his face. He felt bad for you and decided to prepare some gifts for you once he will go back to visit you tomorrow.

The next day, he went into the hospital and then to your room, but when he was just near the door, he heard a shriek from your room. He went to your room and then saw the nurse shocked, and your body, unconscious, on the floor. He rushed to your body, feeling this nostalgic feeling that he felt with his dearest friend, Oda. “Belladonna! You must be joking! open your eyes!! please… don’t die on me..” he cried, checking your pulse and heartbeat. And he didn’t feel or hear anything. He tried again and again trying to hear your heartbeat, he tried finding the warmth of your body, but it wasn’t there. “What happened to her…?” He asked the nurse, and she said she doesn’t know because she also just went in to check up on you because she heard a sound from your room. “Well??? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! GET SOME FUCKING HELP!” Dazai screamed at the nurse, his voice was cracking. The nurse rushed to get some help and once she did, he had to wait outside for you. And when the doctor told him, “I’m sorry, she couldn’t make it. We tried our best.” “No. no. no. no. no NO!! You have to be joking. My wife is a strong woman. She cannot just die easily! She can’t just leave me!!” was Dazai’s response. He ran into your room and looked at your body. It looked like it was so cold, and it was. There was no signs of warmth in your body. “Belladonna? Sweetheart?? Darling?? My love…? just wake up… please.. don’t leave me..” Dazai said and then held your hand. “I love you so much, [name]. I hope you’re in peace right now, so please forgive for what I have done to you. You deserve better.” He said as he was trying to accept the fact that you’re dead. That you killed yourself because of him. That you died because of him. That you got your heartbroken by him. He doesn’t ever want to let you go, but he has to because you have to go. You were the light of his world, and now, his world darkened once again.

• • That was so cheesy wtf || any req?? i only do bsd, genshin, jjk

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #dazai angst #dazai osamu x you #dazai x you #dazai x reader angst #dazai osamu x reader angst #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs angst #bungou stray dogs angst

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the-lady-general · 2 years ago

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I know I'm four years late to the party but I worked out the timeline for Harry's epic pre-game bender and the feelings need out. HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE THIS KIND OF ANIMAL ANYMORE. :(

Sooo... Harry told the Major Crimes Unit to fuck off on Friday, and immediately started partying because he'd "solve the case in no time". Saturday night he jumped the floodgate with his car, destroying it and losing his badge and his uniform in the process. Idiot Doom Spiral said he was devastated by that, and also vaguely suicidal at this point. Sunday nigh Harry mostly tries to drink, but ends up waving his gun about threatening to kill himself in earnest. People get understandably upset by that, and Harry sells his gun, sans bullets. He decides he doesn't want to be this kind of animal (pig?! human?!) anymore and flushes the Ledger of Failure and Hatred (with the promotion for crippling Burke, which Harry didn't accept; with the two cases that resulted in his previous blackouts; with that damn postcard; the ledger that tells Harry to kill himself, asshole) down the toilet.

I wonder how exactly Saturday and Sunday went down. He couldn't do the field autopsy without a second officer present. But he has already been to the yard and talked with Cuno. He even tried getting into the harbour via the rooftops. Did the Hanged Man talk to him? Did that conversation go as badly as it did in the dream after the autopsy? Did Harry try to escape, both times by jumping over a barrier and getting drunk out of his mind? If that is how it went down then Trant is right about the bender being a defense mechanism: Harry avoided the corpse and the ledger that were trying to talk him into suicide; He left his badge with the promotion for police brutality behind; He sold the gun he came close to using on himself.

He just... arrived in Martinaise and stripped the policeman off, bit by bit. And the "good ending" has him recover all those bits again, the ledger, the coat, the car, the gun, even the tape, and finally his unit. He goes right back to being the same kind of animal he was when he arrived on the scene.

Which is a pig. When he wants to be a giant, curious stick insect that loves collecting trinkets and memories, who says "I exist" and is scared of being forgotten and alone. Because if he didn't have to be a cop (for the joke that is Nix Gottlieb's healthcare?) he could be scary (warn others of the apocalypse) and beautiful (superstar 😘) and kind (instead of getting promoted for permanently disabling someone). OF ALL THE CREATURES I HAVE MET YOU ARE THE THE SCARIEST, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL, THE KINDEST. OH GOD. JUST GIVE ME HARRY THE HOBOCOP AND LEPLANTE, MOVING IN WITH ISOBEL AND LEARNING HOW TO NOT BE PIGS TOGETHER. EVEN KIM SAYS HE'S GOING TO DIE IN THE FORCE. COPS KILL, BEING A COP KILLS AND NEITHER HARRY NOR KIM NOR LEPLANTE SEE AN ALTERNATIVE. I CAN'T BRING MYSELF TO RECRUIT CUNO OR TITUS ANYMORE. HOW DO I UNLOCK THE ENDING WHERE I GET KIM AND JEAN AND JUDIT FIRED. AND CHESTER AND TORSON TOO. FUCK YOU CAPTAIN PRYCE. I SAW THAT LAST ESPRIT DE CORPS CHECK YOU WANT HARRY TO BE UNHINGED AND BASH PEOPLE'S SKULLS IN AGAIN WHEN THE NEXT WAVE OF MERCENARIES COMES IN DON'T YOU. FUCK YOU GOTTLIEB. LIZ HELP. LIZ PLEASE. LIZ YOU'RE A LAWYER YOU CAN FIX THIS PLEASE ALL HE NEEDS IS TIME ELECTROCHEMISTRY SAID SO AND ELECTROCHEMISTRY IS NEVER WRONG.

#the lady general rambles #disco elysium #spoilers #de spoilers #disco elysium spoilers #i think i got them all...#come for the essay stay for the incoherent screaming #oh yeah and #cw suicide #cw alcohol #cw police #no idea if all of that needs tagging considering what the game is about but eh

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lalunanymph · 2 years ago

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𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

wakasa’s death was the final straw that made shinichiro lose his last shred of humanity, turning him into a cruel and sadistic gang leader who feared nothing. that is until wakasa’s estranged sister shows up, claiming she would do anything to uncover the truth about her brother’s death… even if it means sacrificing everything to him. ┊ 𖨆♡𖨆 sano shinichiro x fem!reader

‗ ❍ mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, mentions of food, grief, longing, angst, fluff, suggestive content, betrayal, og timeline shin, dark!shin ┊7,8k+ words

. . . . . the title is the english translation based off this song. reader uses she/her pronouns for this third POV narrative instead of the conventional second POV (you). also... dawn not writing smut for a heavy fic for once? she truly is experimenting 💅🏼

They said that the only thing strong enough to kill a dragon was a dragon itself.

That in the face of pure danger, the great monster would rather eat its own tail than concede defeat.

Many myths surrounded the fearsome creature, and from a promise of brotherhood made by two men, a gang was formed, named after the famed mythical serpent. The streets of Tokyo shuddered from their name: The Black Dragons.

For many years, they prospered, pillaged and reaped their way into violent notoriety, the mere utterance of them enough to draw a chill up every policeman’s spine and instil fear in their hearts.

Until one day, the dragon ate itself whole.

Tokyo’s streets ran red with their blood.

It was unimaginable horror; bodies strewn across the ground, brothers lost, families torn apart. At the eye of the storm, the cause for this destruction, was a young man called Sano Manjiro.

He alone was the sole holder of his brother’s heart, and the day Mikey died was when Sano Shinichiro started down his path of destruction. Word on the street was that he roamed the alleys day and night, searching for an answer—a solution—to bring back the family he had lost. His bruised knuckles were telling, the dark circles under his eyes an even bigger indication of the lunacy he was descending into.

They said he left an old man bleeding out to death in the middle of a grimy road, his skull bashed into his head. His victim was homeless, they whispered. Nothing to his name but a dirty cart filled with scraps and the horrible misfortune of being targeted for something he had no control over.

Sano Shinichiro killed him in cold blood.

By some grace, an old friend found him and took him in with promises of riches, women and more drugs to ease the pain. Shinichiro agreed.

The forlorn, broken-hearted man worked alongside the Black Dragon leader, Wakasa Imaushi, to bring glory back to the discarded name of their gang. Lives were lost, blood ran the asphalt till it stung with a tangy rust. And still, Shinichiro was unsatisfied.

He found no glory in the violent half-life he lived in, and the stories whispered that he got into a heated argument with Wakasa before the man’s body was found, face first in the Sumida river, his features bloated and disfigured beyond recognition. They managed to identify him by the last remaining purple streaks in his matted blond hair.

Shinichiro rose the ranks, a terrifying succession of the bloody crown Wakasa left to him.

For years, his reign remained uncontested, until one day, an underling stumbled into his office, wide-eyed and terrified of being the bearer of bad news.

“It’s about Wakasa-san, Sano-san,” the tattooed man’s brow furrowed.

The dark-haired leader astride the sofa blinked, peeling those bottomless black eyes towards the messenger. He had not heard that name in years.

“What about him?”

“His family is here—”

Shinichiro scoffed before the man could finish. “Family? Wakasa was an orphan.” Just like me. “He had no family.”

The thug’s expression twisted into one of hesitation, and his eyes darted out towards the heavily draped door, beyond the solitude of this VIP room filled with smoke and the fumes of alcohol.

“There must be a mistake, sir,” the man persisted, much to his growing annoyance. “Because his sister is right outside this club, begging to speak to you.”

Shinichiro was not one to believe in ghosts, but in this instance, he had gone pale as if he had seen a figment of his dead brother in the mirror.

“What?”

His whisper was harsh—scratchy from the smoke. “What do you mean?”

“Imaushi Y/N. She wants to speak to you.”

It would be easy to turn her away; to tell the underling to take her behind the dumpsters and slit her throat. Judging by the turbulence in the Imaushi family and the destabilisation of their entire structure (mom—dead, dad—missing, brother—dead), she would not be missed.

He hesitated for a split second, before an irrational sort of impulse took over. One that reeked of insecurity as to whether he had truly gotten rid of his past… or if it was back to haunt him.

“Fine. Send her in.”

Minutes passed, and the second she entered, Shinichiro’s frown deepened. While she may not look like Wakasa’s sister, the exact way in which she held your head high, and the same deadpan, sleepy stare spoke volumes of how the young woman before him was truly related to the once feared Black Dragon leader.

I know my brother didn’t commit suicide, her words were a fog in his mind. So, please tell me the truth.

Shinichiro swirled the dark, amber liquor in his glass. “Every truth has a price.”

“I’ll pay for it.” Feisty. He could plainly see now how you were related to the great Wakasa Imaushi. “Anything you want, I’d do it.”

He peered her up and down. To many people, Sano Shinichiro must look like a soulless thug—his tattoos, sunken eyes and passive sneer were all indications of the dark path he chose. But, to her, he held a sad air, one she could sense was tied intimately with loss.

“You wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

“Try me.” The dress she wore straight from her job in a bar suddenly felt too short—too see through. His eyes branded down her bare legs, stomach and exposed arms, lingering for a moment on her made up face. Shinichiro set down his glass, his thin lips set in a glare.

“Listen, kid. You got the wrong idea. There was a reason why Wakasa ended up the way he did—”

“Please.”

Fuck. She was crying.

Heavy sobs echoed around the smoky room, every tear slowly defrosting his callous heart. Shinichiro always did hate it when women cried in front of him. It was partly the reason why he never dealt punishments to the weaker sex on his own, relying on his underlings to do the dirty work because he could never stomach their tears.

It chipped away at him, and eventually, he set his glass down onto the table with a frustrated sigh.

“Shut up.”

She knew better than to defy a yakuza boss, and clamped her mouth shut, shoulders still heaving with tremors.

Those dark, listless eyes drank in your tear-stained face, and he grunted softly, sinking back into the leather seat. So much for a relaxing drink after work.

“Take off your dress.”

Stunned, she thought she had heard him wrong. “W-what?”

He gestured at the pretty, floral number she had wrapped around your suddenly shaking body. “Are you deaf? I told you to take off your dress.”

Her delicate throat moved in a quick gulp, and it didn’t take a genius for him to figure out that she was second guessing whether this entire crusade was worth it. He saw it in the minute shake of her fingers when they clenched into fists at her side, and how she couldn’t look him in the eye.

Maybe she would leave. Half of him wished she would. The other half wanted to wait and see if she was exactly like your brother—unafraid, uncaring of consequences and daring enough to do anything he said.

After a tense beat of silence, she stood up. Her finger shook when she lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing plush thighs, the white cotton panties she wore that made his dick twitch in his pants; the soft dips of her hips; revealing her stomach and breasts which were in a matching white bra. Finally, her bare collarbones and then, the damn dress was on the floor.

Shinichiro stared her up and down, savouring her submission. He lit a cigarette, puffing on it thoughtfully as she stood before him, fists and jaw clenched, looking like she wanted to murder him despite how the poor creature were shaking from head to toe. He let her stew in her humiliation for a few more minutes, silently finishing his white stick.

Flicking the butt into the ashtray, he gestured to his lap. “Come here.”

What could she do but heed his words?

Her movements were stiff when she ambled towards him, and stood close enough for her calves to brush his kneecaps.

“Sit down.”

A stiff corpse. That was the closest thing Shinichiro could compare her to when she sank into his lap. He wasted no time in being brazen with his touches, gliding his palms down her hips and thighs, wanting her to relax yet also to keep her keyed up for more of his caresses. Those pretty shoulders of hers were hiked up to her ears, every pore oozing caution.

Shinichiro found it amusing how two siblings could be entirely different—where Wakasa threw himself fully into any danger, she was by far the more subdued of the two. However, she did not shake his touch off when he caressed her thigh, leading his fingers slowly between the untouched terrain of your sex, every muscle in her body calling not to succumb to the temptation of getting up and bolting away.

As quickly as his touch came, it disappeared. He pushed her off his lap, and with an unfathomable expression, reached for his lighter and another white stick, the ember tip dancing in her periphery.

“Come back to this club tomorrow,” he flickered those bottomless onyx eyes towards her wide ones. “I have a need for a personal secretary. Someone who’s there 24/7 to take care of me. Cook my meals, watch out for me. Essentially, you would belong to me.” He wants a slave? Her expression could conceal her palpable mortification. Those dark eyes never wavered from her face. “Can you count?”

She nodded after a beat of hesitation.

“Write?”

Again, she nodded.

“Are you good at handling a gun?”

She froze.

Shinichiro interpreted her silence as a ‘no’ and he chuckled. She hated how that sound was both delicious and deep at the same time. Pull yourself together, Imaushi.

“We can train you up,” he tapped his cigarette over the ashtray to discard the excess ash. “8 o’clock. Don’t be late.”

The second she agreed to this harrowing plan to become Shinichiro’s secretary was when she came to the conclusion that she had accidentally made a deal with the Devil.

Not accidentally; as much as she hated to admit it, the entire agreement was done with her consent. Nothing mattered but finding out what happened to Wakasa.

Imouto, don’t come looking for me. Her estranged brother, a few years younger, snarled as he hastily wrapped his coat around his broad shoulders. Don’t tell anyone you’re related to me, and for fuck’s sake, keep your nose out of my business.

A lump formed in her throat as she poured over your new boss’ schedule. Said man who owned her payroll, and consequently, her entire being.

A suitcase of her clothes was already shipped to his luxurious penthouse, and after work, she was instructed to follow him to his meetings, shadow him in everything he did and return back to said penthouse to prepare a meal for the infamous Sano Shinichiro, and… her thoughts trailed off, unable to complete itself.

He will want to sleep with me tonight.

She was the furthest thing from a shy, prude wallflower. While she hadn’t gone long-term with any of her boyfriends, she left nothing up to chance in the bedroom. There was little terrain which she had explored with those men in and out of the sheets, and if Shinichiro were to ask her to do something out of her comfort zone, she could not weasel out with the excuse of inexperience.

The second her new boss entered, every breath in the small office was held. Clothes rustled and chairs scraped as everyone stood up to welcome the lanky, dark-eyed man whose dishevelled hair and wrinkled clothes gave him the furthest impression from a great yakuza boss. In this light, he looked a little lost and weary, nodding in acknowledgement and stiffly gesturing for her to follow him when he walked by.

“Good morning, Sano-san.” She bowed lowly and waited at the corner of his desk while he settled down, refusing to lift her head until he told her so. Wakasa would call it a good tactic of obedience. She called it self-preservation.

“I have two meetings today,” he started without bothering to return your greeting. “One in Odaiba and another in Akasaka. Make sure you have that written down in my schedule.”

She scrambled to remove a notepad and pen from your skirt pocket, scribbling down the two locations while he prattled on about the timings. She bowed again once he finished. “I will remind you of this, sir.”

He turned his listless eyes to the coffee station in the corner of his office. “Dark. One spoon of sugar. Argentinian blend.”

Shinichiro observed as she scrambled to fix his morning cup of coffee, measuring the precise amount and concentrating on stirring until the fragrant caffeine fanned around his office. The Black Dragon leader always measured the worth of his men by how fast they could comply with his demands. This slight, young woman before him was one of the better crops he had picked. Your sister is truly a wonder, Waka-kun.

He saw it in how she dutifully reminded him of his meetings, arranged his binders in an alphabetical order, refilled his fountain pen and made no complaint when he interrupted her lunch to go out and buy his own. She returned, flushed from the chill, holding a single packet of tamago sando like it was a trophy and handed it to him with both hands. She knew exactly how to keep her head down during tense meetings, walk two steps behind him, and recapped his deal with another gang in minutes that were easy to decipher. The best part of it all? Despite the small grimace on her face every time he hounded her for another request, she still complied and did it.

Some perverse part of him relished in her submission, imagining the number of ways she would be this obedient and giving in the bedroom. He looked forward to nighttime. The car ride back to his condo was quiet, and Shinichiro did not ask you about her first day. It was evident in the droop of her eyes, the exhaustion of his numerous demands taking a toll on her physique. Poor girl.

Her shoulders were slumped forward, and the click of her high heels on the ground were diminutive behind the crisp footfalls of his dress shoes. His bag and files were in careful arms, and she tried to keep up with his longer strides. Shinichiro didn’t bother holding open the door for her, letting it collide with her elbow. Behind his back, she gave a little huff, wiping off her glare when he turned around to face her.

“Ochazuke,” he said without preamble. “I assume you have some kitchen skills.”

The Black Dragon bastard didn’t bother saying anything else. He sat on the sofa, nursing a beer while she set his files to one side and removed her shoes, trying not to get caught dead ogling at the huge granite island in the middle of his kitchen, or the velvet L-shaped sofa which was enough to seat eighteen people at one go. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering luxury of Tokyo—90-stories above her modest apartment right in the outskirts where she would’ve never dreamt of encountering such opulence.

The penthouse was divided into two floors, with a floating stairs leading to the bedroom and bathrooms above; a chandelier dripped from the ceiling, throwing off fragments of light on the neutral walls and he had a large balcony which housed another large L-shaped sofa complete with an infinity pool which glowed a light blue from the neon lights.

She defrosted the salmon in his fridge, boiled the water for the green tea and started on the rice. The fatty scent of fish frying over the stove together with the tea steeping in its kyusu filled her with nostalgia for the same meal she prepared years ago during family dinners.

Setting the completed dish on his table, she called for him to eat.

Preparing another bowl for herself, she froze when he told her to eat outside on the balcony. “I don’t like to speak to anyone during my meals.”

Anger and humiliation bubbled in her chest, but since she was under his tutelage and care, she could not do anything about it. She found she quite liked the view of the city below her as she chewed on the soaked tea rice and clean fish.

After dinner, he went to take a shower with a clip request for her to join him. Is he expecting me to bathe him, too?

The reality was far worse. He sat on the ledge of his bathtub, already naked and languishing in hot water. Frothy bubbles spilled over the porcelain lip of the tub, and he beckoned her to join him. She could not refuse, and discarded her clothes, hesitating on the thin piece of her panties. He could not keep his eyes away from her stiffening nipples, unabashedly drinking in her curves. Summoning a strength she did not know she had, the young woman removed the last layer keeping her free from his penetrating gaze, and slowly padded over to him.

Shin scooted backwards until his back hit the wall, and she gingerly stepped into the tub together with him. More bubbles and water spilled from the side, overflowing from the combination of their body weight and she hid her warming cheeks behind her hair. He scraped it back from her face, touch surprisingly tender.

“Tell me about yourself.”

Her voice shook when she told him about her childhood; her life in a low cost apartment in the outskirts of Tokyo, Wakasa’s distance from her since they were both children, her parents and their never ending concern for their eldest son. She told him of her education, the pets she kept and lost, and friends she made during her highschool years which she still kept in contact with.

“Any lovers?”

She tensed. “A few.”

“How many?” as he spoke, he sponged her arms with a loofah, scrubbing it lightly. Most likely to lower her guard.

Her voice caught with uncertainty. “T-two in highschool. Three more when I started in the working world.”

“You never went to university?”

She shook her head. He started massaging her shoulders, his touch not unpleasant.

“Why not?”

“My family was poor.”

He hummed. “Waka-kun never talked about his family much.”

Surprising him, she nodded. “He hated us.”

“Why?”

“Why should I tell you?”

He stopped his ministrations, fingers spasming on her skin. A beat of silence passed between them, and for a second, she wondered if she would be in trouble for such a brazen answer.

“Feisty.” Shinichiro exhaled a laugh and manoeuvred her to face him. His dark eyes remained fixed on hers, and he tilted his head forward. “My turn.”

She reached for the bottle of juniper and sage shampoo, lathering it through his dark locks. He hummed, and despite their brief acquaintance, she did not complain when he laid his forehead in between her breasts.

“You are like a child.”

He hummed. “Every powerful man needs a place they can unwind.”

“And you chose to do it with me?” He almost purred when she scrubbed behind his ears.

“Yes. Do you find that strange?”

She braced herself on her knees, and he tried hard to not stare at her bare tits soaped up with bubbles. “Why me, of all people?”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer. “Waka-kun was my best friend. You remind me of him in some way.”

“Every girl’s dream,” she muttered dryly. “To be compared to her dead brother by a man.”

“Would you want me to compare you to something else?”

He didn’t have to look up to know she would be smiling slightly. “Not at this moment—no.”

Shinichiro did not touch her again, showing her to his guest bedroom where she would spend her nights as long as she was under his roof—an arrangement she had no idea how long would last. The bed was soft, the pillows plush, and she soon fell into a deep rest, unaware of the man who was down the hall laying awake because of her.

Waka-kun…

He stood up from the edge of his huge bed and ambled to the window, watching the city play out its neon theatrics from his safe perch above it; like a king watching over his decrepit kingdom.

The reminder of her body pressed to his, her fingers in his hair and how comfortable their banter was gave him a lot to ruminate on.

Did you send your sister to me as a cruel punishment for my sins against you?

The days spent with the allegedly horrendous Black Dragon leader delved into simple routine.

During the waking hours, he would watch her sort through documents, pour over deals, and answer his calls. At night, she would prepare his favourite dishes and sit separately while they ate. Bath times were the only stipulated moments in their schedule where they would be in close proximity, and Shinichiro liked to believe that she was slowly breaking down her defenses around him.

About two weeks had passed since their little arrangement, and he was eager to take it a step further.

“Eat with me.”

She paused from her trajectory towards the balcony, unsure if she had heard right.

He pulled the chair next to him—on his right—and gestured to it. She sank down onto the cool leather seat with mincing movements.

They ate the oyako-don she made for the two of them in silence, and he praised her cooking after he had finished.

As usual, in the tub, they would talk about everything and anything. Today, his mind was a million miles away, far more vulnerable than he anticipated and she could sense it.

“Sano-san? Are you well?”

“Call me Shin.”

Her silence was telling of her disbelief. No one had ever been allowed to call the great Sano Shinichiro by a diminutive of his name. She pulled him against her chest where he fit in her embrace, taking over his routine of massaging her shoulders by reciprocating the same action for him. He closed his eyes, head tilted back. She has a good, firm grip.

“Tell me what is bothering you.”

She didn’t prod him further when he remained silent. Slowly, Shinichiro opened up.

“My brother—Manjiro. He would’ve been eighteen today.”

Her kneading ceased. Shinichiro grunted in warning and she hastily resumed her ministrations.

“I’m sorry.” Drops of water were hitting the marble floor from the overfilled bathtub, filling the silence. “How did he… pass on… if you don’t mind sharing?”

He did mind, actually. But, it had been a long time since anyone had ever made him feel this open to such tender afflictions born from memories of the last living family member he had left.

Shinichiro opened his mouth, his scratchy voice filling the pockets of spaces between them with stories of a blonde boy who was far too brave for his own good. Like the golden Icarus who flew too close to the sun, he leapt across stairs and bannisters, trying to reach for the sky but instead, fell to the frigid ground, crumpling upon the impact.

Eventually, the brave boy died and the brother who worked hard to save him became consumed by the same hopelessness and despair which deadened his younger sibling’s vegetative body to the world.

Her hands stopped moving and this time, Shinichiro did not chastise her. The heavy silence lingered in the air like steam from their shared bath, and he was breathing heavily as though he had run a marathon, his emotions bubbling above the surface like poisonous lava.

She turned him to face her, palms on his cheeks, and he could barely pull away from the gravity of her mouth before it was pressed onto his. Her lips were sweet if not a tad bit chaste, slightly chapped and flushed warmly from the bath. She tilted her head a little more to the right and he closed his eyes, drinking her in deeply. His arms that were accustomed to pushing people away brought her closer, vining around her slighter figure so her chest was pressed flush to his.

Sano Shinichiro, the fearsome Black Dragon leader who had blood on his hands all for the sake of cultivating the elusive ability to travel back in time and save his little brother… was completely overwhelmed by his first kiss.

Her mouth moved like a dream on his, stealing his breath, his resolve, and if he were being honest? A little bit of his soul, too.

Their tongues were like errant flames dancing in the wind, flickering with each other and igniting a deeper spark that seemed to rescind any semblance of common sense or resolve.

His inexperience did little to deter him from nudging her back to the wall, or busying his tongue down her throat, nipping on the thin skin lightly; tasting soap and musk.

She took his hand and he squeezed it, their lips interlocking again.

“I’ll go slow,” he muttered in between breaths she relinquished back to him. The woman who stole the air from his lungs only to give it back with her sweet kiss. His damnation and salvation all at once.

She caressed his cheek, a silent plea for him to give all of him to her.

Shinichiro does. He does because she made him feel things his stupid heart had not felt in so many years. The walls which he put up were flimsy; paper thin. Foolish. Years of defences stripping from a soul-stirring kiss she caught him in.

Again. Again. And again.

A torn heart could’ve been sutured over from her sweet kisses alone.

The bath water turned tepid after hours of their soaking bodies in them, but neither Shin nor her minded.

“Shin, you have to try this.”

The steam from the bubbling pot casted her grin in smoky shades and he fanned it away with his palm, eager to see her smile. She lifted a soup spoon to him, one hand braced under it to catch the stray drops, implicitly asking for him to taste the dish she painstakingly made.

He bent forward, sipping on the broth and hummed in agreement. “It’s delicious.” He squeezed her hip, and on second thought, wrapped his long arms around her waist when she turned back to stir the pot, hooking his chin over her shoulder to lazily observe her work.

Shinichiro would never cease to be amazed at how clean her skills were or how effortlessly she made sukiyaki from scratch. Instead of using the prepackaged soup packet, she grated the herbs, mixed the sauces and sliced the vegetables and meat on her own for a truly specialised homecook experience.

The five-star restaurants he visited could never compare to this simple pleasure of having a person he cared for seated opposite of him, sipping on her broth and telling him about her day. He had trusted her more and more to handle the Black Dragon’s internal affairs and she was gushing all about the paperwork system and how the head accountant allowed her to arrange it to her heart’s content.

Later that night, they both sat outside the balcony on the L-shape couch, staring at the glittering mass of Tokyo below them. With her beside him, the cold neon lights seemed more welcoming. Less lonely.

“Shin?” her soft voice stole his attention.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you tell me what happened with Waka now?”

The lights suddenly became too jarring. Too claustrophobic.

He pulled away, physically and emotionally, keeping a safe distance between their figures.

She twisted her body to face him, a question on her parted lips. He quelled it with his next words.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Without waiting for her reply, he turned on his heel and left straight for bed, forsaking their daily bath ritual.

She made sure to walk on eggshells when she was around him.

Shinichiro had not yet returned home from work. He had sent word for her to go ahead first, and that he would join her tonight.

Her stomach churned, and nausea edged her thoughts. What if he was in trouble?

The infamous gang leader was known to disappear for days on end when he was handling business on his own. She could barely get a hold of him through text, and spent the next few minutes leaning against the stone counter, chewing on her thumb nail.

Her phone lit up, and his curt reply did little to assuage her nerves.

Will be gone for a few more hours. Don’t wait for me.

Was it because she had made the grave mistake of asking about her brother? But, she thought Shin would be comfortable enough to tell her.

Unless…

She pulled out her laptop, retrieving the files which she had made a secret double copy of. Wakasa’s expenditure from the ledgers which the organisation still kept. Her eyes quickly roved down the column of numbers and she paused at the last bar he visited before he died.

It was easy for her to retrieve Shinichiro’s records; he kept it all lumped in one binder and paid it off with the company’s burner card. She matched the date of Wakasa’s last spending with a suspiciously familiar amount.

Flickering her eyes back to her dead brother’s tab, she stifled a gasp.

The dates matched. There was no mention of the bar in Shinichiro’s records, but she had no doubt this was the correct space. Upon closer look, the amount spent was about the same. About ¥200,000 each with slight differences to the total number.

Shinichiro was the last person to ever see her brother alive.

She closed the laptop shut, a crease in her brow.

If this was the case… then why didn’t her lover tell her this?

Her stomach churned, and she rushed out of her seat, straight to the toilet. Head bowed over the bowl, she spewed out her dinner, green in the face and wiping her mouth with a shaky hand.

She couldn’t stand without shaking and sank down to her knees.

Uncaring for her own health, she questioned everything she had discovered within these past few minutes. The thoughts roared in her brain, louder than the churning in her belly, and she touched it once more to still the raging fear.

Shin was undoubtedly a dangerous man. Despite his lack of tattoos and fearsome skills, he still carried weight in the underworld because of his terrifying reputation.

She had to contend with the reality of this question which would not give her rest.

What if it was him who killed my brother?

He returned a few hours later, stinking of alcohol and dragging a pounding headache behind him like a ball and chain. In the half-dimness, he noticed her unblinking, sitting at the dining table.

Shinichiro barely opened his mouth to greet her before her voice pierced through him with such muted anger it left him rooted to the ground.

“Were you the last person to see my brother?”

The flowers he bought for her in his briefcase weighed heavily, and he set down the innocuous object, frowning at her open hostility. His mouth ran dry and ahead of his muddled brain, his voice thick when he blurted—

How did you find out?

Her righteous anger faltered. She clenched her fists, gingerly getting to her feet.

So, it’s true.

He had no more cards to play. In this perverted game of finding the truth, Shin had hid the ace up his sleeve. Derailing her from the reality standing right in front of her.

“Where were you?”

An easy answer he could give. “Deciding how to take down the rival head down in the next town.”

Horror tinged the pocket of silence festering between them. “You can’t possibly be thinking of defeating the Dojins?”

Possibly one of the worst gangs in comparison to the Black Dragons. They wouldn’t bat an eye to gut a child in front of its weeping parents, amongst some of the horrors she had heard in passing whispers.

His jaw tightened and he refused to look at her. Afraid that if he did, he would concede defeat and put behind this idea. The same one Wakasa was against. The same one his sister was begging him to reconsider. Shin’s heart was set in stone.

The Dojins were heavily involved in children and human trafficking, an atrocious act even Wakasa was against. If he went through with this, there was no telling what would become of the Black Dragons.

“Your brother said the exact same thing.”

She tried a different tactic. Approaching him, she kept her shoulders even and voice steady, her gait unhurried. Her smaller palms were warm around his, and Shin flickered his eyes to her face when she pressed his hand flat against her sternum, right above her belly.

“Shin, please.” Tears scintillated and shone in those beautiful eyes he could never tear his attention from. “Be rational for a second. They will tear you apart.”

He wrenched his hand from her grasp, nostrils flaring. Unable to face her hauntingly sad expression, he settled for glaring at his dress shoes. “If I take over, I have control of the hospital in the province and I can force the doctors to give proper treatment to children who need it and not discriminate them because of their income—”

“Is that what Manjiro would want you to do?”

His hands shook when he regarded her down the line of his nose. “What do you know, Y/N? What do you know about family?”

She reeled back, as if his words had slapped her.

“I lost mine, too.” Her voice was shaky and paper thin. She could hardly believe this callous man was the same one as the lover who would indulge her in bedtime stories in a porcelain bathtub.

Despite everything, she gave one last desperate attempt to hold onto him.

“I know you want to do this because of Mikey-kun. I understand that love you have for him, Shinny. I feel the same love for Wakasa. But, this is wrong. You do not have the resources—”

“I was the cause of Wakasa’s death.”

This time, she stepped back like he had thrown scalding hot water into her face. Her heart, somewhat mended by his love, fractured once more into a million pieces; worse for wear than when she met him.

“Tell me it’s not true.” Her eyes were blown wide with horror, her words marred by sobs. “Tell me you’re lying to me.”

His unfaltering gaze told a different story.

“Your brother committed suicide because he couldn’t stand how cruel I turned out to be—how I was putting the Black Dragons at risk.”

Her steps faltered when she backtracked, and she reached out for the edge of the counter before her knees could give out.

The man who took her on summer bike rides, who washed her when she was too tired after work, who would never hesitate to loudly praise her cooking…

Was the one behind her beloved brother’s death?

Any remaining piece of her heart shattered into a million more shards, and she could hardly breathe. The strength she prided herself in carrying in the face of adversity fled every fibre of her being, leaving her bones rattling hollow and breath dissipating in heavy puffs.

“Why?” her lips could barely form around the question. “Why?”

Shin’s face was cast in shadows, the lack of light leaving him in a chilling veneer. For the first time, she could see what the world meant about him; how he barely had a shred of humanity left to consider anyone except his own goals.

How could I have been such a fool to think he would change for me?

His eyes rippled close. “Y/N, believe me when I say I truly care for you. I want to share so many things with you—memories, dreams, children… a lifetime—but, there are some things I can’t tell you.”

Bullshit. “You were the one who drove him to that point, did you not?”

He could not force a reply. She had always been too smart for her own good. Shinichiro turned his face away from her, a storm unleashed in his chest from her burning refute of his dreams for them both. It crackled the tips of his fingers with static, raising the hairs at the back of his nape, and he snarled at her, bearing down with more intimidating than necessary.

“It is done. I will be facing the Dojins tomorrow. Stay out of it if you do not want to be tied to me.”

He stood in the eye of the storm, isolated from the world, an angry king in his own right. Shinichiro never expected her to breach past the tempestuous barriers and wrap her arms around his torso, anchoring him to solid ground through her embrace.

“Please don’t do this,” a flurry of tears like rain chased down her cheeks. “You have so much more to live for than throwing it all away for revenge.”

His hubris would always be his pride in never accepting the fact that he was just human. Just skin and bones; not a father-figure, or an idolised man by many in the underworld. Everyone else saw him as Sano Shinichiro, legendary gang leader and yakuza boss.

Not Shinny, the man who shamelessly yelped in fright when he watched scary movies while holding onto her sleeve, or the lover who held her close with promises of keeping her safe for as long as she desired to be by his side. The boy who laughed when the wind violently whipped through his hair and she yelled for him to slow down, both of them hurtling down the countryside roads on his old Mitsubishi bike.

The same one who cooed at toddlers when they stared at him; firing off silly fantasies in her mind of him pulling funny faces to make their future babies laugh.

“Shin, please—”

He broke the grip she had around his heart the same moment he fought out of her arms.

“Stay away from me.” Those dark, bottomless eyes penetrated through her defences, leaving her distressed and shaking in fear. “If you have nothing else to say, you can leave. This contract is void since you already have your answer.”

His shoulder clipped against hers when he walked past her, straight into their shared bedroom to clean up and prepare himself for the fight of his life at dawn tomorrow near the docks.

He fell into a fitful sleep and awoke a few hours later, the storm in his chest raging louder, urging him to seek her out. Lurching from the bed, he pushed open the heavy door, padding down the hallways and turning towards her room.

Her door fell open, an aching emptiness spread out before him.

If you have nothing else to say, you can leave.

The only thing she left behind was the indent of her head on the pillow. Nothing else remained.

His beloved had disappeared.

What is grief but love with nowhere to go?

Shin had once heard of that phrase uttered to him a long time ago by a well-meaning family friend during Mikey’s funeral. He had called bullshit on it because why—why?—did grief even have to exist when it could easily be replaced by anger or apathy?

Grief didn’t have a place to sit in his life; he had long given up its seat in favour of blood, violence and monetary gain. Anything to distract himself from its jarring presence at the head of the table.

Years later, he met a woman who turned his life upside down. She was persistent and kind, loyal to a fault and a person he honestly could envision spending the rest of his days with. Then, he had hurt her and paid the price for his misdoings; he had to watch the foundation of this tender love get ripped from its hinges and burn to the ground.

All because he was too afraid to tell the truth before she gave him her all.

Your brother committed suicide because he couldn’t stand how cruel I turned out to be—how I was putting the Black Dragons at risk.

Wakasa’s death was finally revealed to be a tragic ultimatum to a friendship that was beyond salvation; a man who was at his wit’s end to save his beloved friend from throwing himself into a dangerous situation that would guarantee his death and the dissolution of the gang they worked hard to build.

And when he had told her the truth, she ran in the dead of the night, taking all the light and hope in his life away.

He had spent years searching for the elusive mistress to his heart, expanding his time and energy scouring the streets for her on his own in nothing but his weathered biker jacket and unwavering hope.

It’s too risky, boss.

We need to get you a bodyguard.

No. He pushed his underling’s good faith in favour for walking this path of atonement on his own. I need to do this.

A year and a half later, he found her strolling down a park pavement, sun in her hair and on her cheeks as she held a chubby baby boy tightly in her arms. A boy with his dark eyes and hair.

Shin, please. Her beautiful eyes shone with tears. Be rational for a second.

She sat on the warmed stone bench, kissing the baby’s cheek and cooing at his gummy smile. The trees above threw their speckled shadows over his son’s carefree expression, those eyes which were not tinged with despair or grief. He gurgled with laughter and fisted his mother’s hair in one, chubby hand. Free to love. Free to just be.

Don’t do this, please. Her sobs rang loudly in his mind like gunshots, the warmth of her body pressed to his mangling his thoughts with utter guilt. You have so much more to live for than throwing it all away for revenge. Was she pregnant then? Did she carry his son when he so cruelly told her to leave him alone?

Grief is just love with nowhere to go.

She was a few feet away from him, and he could plainly see how unaffected she was. There were no more tears in her eyes and her skin shone luminously with health. Her shoulders were lightened from the burden of loving him; a callous and cruel man beyond redemption.

I was the cause of Wakasa’s death.

The baby was suckling his thumb, watching his mother point out birds in the trees and clouds in the sky, like he understood every single word she said, enraptured by her presence. I’ve always wanted a family, he remembered confessing to her one night when they both laid in bed, naked and sated; bubbling in the afterglow of their love-making. Someday, I want to create one with you.

Shin could not stop watching her; the fall of her hair, the angelic tilt of her lips pulled into a smile. How perfect she was in every sense of the word.

Tell me it’s not true, she gasped, tears misting her eyes. Tell me you’re lying to me.

Her soft giggle was a double-edged sword of happiness and pure misery for the eavesdropping man. Do you see how blue the sky is? He could read her lips and ached to hear his son’s name (he didn’t know his own son’s name).

Shin took one step forward, close enough to catch her sweet voice.

“... I bet your daddy would’ve loved to show you how the wind feels in your hair when you ride a bike on this fine day, Shinjiro.”

He was struck in disbelief, unable to move.

Shinjiro.

She named my son after Mikey and I.

His mouth opened before his brain could follow. “I do.” Fuck—when did his voice get this hoarse and raw with emotion? “I would’ve loved to show the both of you.”

She did not run, nor spit on his visage like he imagined she would. Her pretty eyes flickered over his features, seeing the sleepless nights, the fine worry etched in his forehead and the telling frown lines he could never quite get rid of.

In broad daylight, he was a shell of the man he was before she left him without a word; beaten senseless by his own desolation. The child in her arms cooed, and she tightened her hold on him.

Shinichiro took one step forward and another. When she did not move, he gathered enough courage to sit next to her, towards the edge of the stone bench to put some distance between them, in case it was all too overwhelming.

“Hi.” His voice was fragile as tissue paper.

She tore her gaze from him to stare at the ground. “Hi.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“You… look well,” he started.

“And you look like crap.”

Her sharp tongue would never cease to make him smile. Shinichiro chuckled, easing his hands out from his pockets to place them by his side, enjoying the sun on his face. “I missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

She did not reply.

He turned to find her chewing on her lower lip.

“Is he…?”

The funny thing about grief is how tied up it is to guilt. We spend our whole lives chasing relief from such gut-wrenching internal horrors without realising that the more we come to terms with loss, the more we build resilience to it.

In many ways, grief is like a bandaid.

The first rip will sting. The second will smart. The third will tingle. Until finally, it hangs limp from our skin, useless and unable to hurt us any longer.

Shinichiro was a man who had let grief sting him over and over again because he refused to let it heal him; to open his heart to its riptides and let it carry him down the stream. He rejected its currents, its natural ebbs and flows in favour of stoppering grief for as long as he could; building a flimsy dam that could barely hold back the true weight of his loss.

Letting it spill over and drown out every single gentle stream of love he was given in his life.

I’m ready to heal. He waited for her reply, palms going clammy with nerves. I’m ready to start anew with her.

The woman he loved nodded, her lower lip wobbling. Sunshine warmed his cheeks, lifting the hollow fear from between his pinched brows. Emboldening him with hope.

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

She scooted closer, and in that minute movement, the smoke parted to reveal the still standing foundation of a bridge he once thought he burned. Her smile was paper thin like his own, but in it, he saw the strength he always admired; the love shining there which never quite faded away.

“Shinjiro, I want you to meet someone: this is your daddy.”

#shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x y/n #shinichiro x you #sano shinichiro x you #shinichiro angst #tokrev angst #tokyo revengers angst #one shot: i won’t tell #🦢 writes

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