#should we cut off anyone who makes a mistake regardless of the scale of the mistake and whether or not they can learn from it? nope

[himbeaux-on-ice]

KK deserves more than 6mil for 1 year and there is no way Habs CAN'T match that. It was so low I thought it was a joke of an offer as petty revenge for the Aho one. Literally had a $20 signing bonus tf. With both teams picking up racists this is good PR frankly to excite fans.

Sorry, I actually disagree pretty solidly with almost all of this, but the reasons are complex and lengthy to explain, so I’m going to put it all under a cut.

Listen, I personally believe based on what we’ve seen from him in the playoffs that KK can eventually develop into a $6.1 million dollar player — it seemed like he did well once the team had been put through Ducharme���s mini-training camp before the playoffs that actually allowed the chance to cement his systems, and put up good numbers generally during the run for someone his age. If they can find a way to get that kind of stuff out of him in the regular season, he could very well be worth $6.1 or more down the road. I really truly think he has it in him with the right coaching and the right work put in.

The problem is, owing possibly to how the Habs have chosen to develop him (remember, he came to the NHL pretty much straight out of the draft) and how very young he actually is, he has not yet actually PROVEN that he can be a player of that value consistently for most of a season at any point. I’m willing to put an asterisk on his struggles this year, because it was a weird fucking season and the Habs had a rough go of it in several points, especially down the stretch, and because we’ve seen the ability is there in the playoffs. But given what we’ve seen while he’s been on his ELC, there has been no guarantee so far that a team that signs him to $6.1 million is going to get $6.1 million in value out of him this coming season.

Like, set aside league-wide valuations for a second, and think about what the Habs, based on their budgeting and philosophy and management choices, are paying some of their top foundational players right now in terms of cap hit. Toffoli makes $4.5 million, so will Hoffman. Anderson makes $5.5 million, as does Drouin. Petry makes $6.2 million. Edmundson makes $3.5 million. Jake Allen, a player so valuable to this team that we risked “Price to Seattle” to keep him, is $2.87 million against the cap. Gally, the lifeblood heart and soul of this team who has given his literal blood sweat and tears to it for almost a decade, only makes $6.5 million against the cap. They apparently weren’t even willing to offer Phillip Danault, defensive cornerstone of the playoff run, the $5.5 million he got from LA. With Weber on the LTIR, if KK signed with the Habs at $6.1 million, he would be the third-highest paid player on the active team when you exclude dudes named Carey Price (who is an outlier and should not be counted). I love the kid. I think he’ll be a bonafide star someday. He has NOT earned that kind of payday yet, based on the established scale of how the Habs reward their players.

Based on my amateur understanding of NHL contracts and the market, a reasonable deal with KK from the Habs would have been somewhere in the area of $2-3 million (so, what they pay for players like Lehkonen (2.3 mil) or Byron (3.3 mil) or just signed Armia to (3.4 mil)), for maybe about 2 years. By the time that runs out, he’d be 23 years old and heading into the prime of his career, and you would probably have a better idea of whether he’s made that big next step or not — if he has, you probably just got two years of great hockey out of him at a STEAL, and can at that point sign him for a nice juicy contract that will pay him to that level and lock him up through his prime years (which is what you would dangle to entice him to take the short deal for now). And if when that short deal is up he hasn’t made that next leap, then you either sign him back at what he is worth, or if that’s an impasse, part ways. He has said he wants to help bring a Cup to Montreal, and do it with the core of young guys they’re assembling (and close friends like the other Finns on the team) — with that, maybe some performance bonuses if he really kills it, and the promise of something bigger down the road once he proves himself (plus the knowledge that he might not get higher offers elsewhere because of how he’s struggled) you could probably get him to sign a deal like that with the Habs.

HOWEVER.

Now that he has signed this offer sheet, he WILL get $6.1 million. Not only for this year, but once the one-year deal expires, any extension offered to him by anyone is required to start at that number. Regardless of how he performs. Unless he has the breakout year of all breakout years, this will really screw him over — because if he DOESN’T perform to the $6.1 million level, a team (be it the Habs or the Canes) is not going to want to sign him to a second deal at that pricetag. He’ll have to go hunting as a free agent, or get traded before he expires and become another team’s problem. (Note: I’m not exactly sure if the offer sheet process allows Montreal to match with a contract at the same value but longer term, but that doesn’t really solve the problem of being locked-in at $6.1 million after next season even if they can). I understand why he signed the offer sheet — his career earnings so far total just over $2 million, and of course both he and his agent would jump at the chance to guarantee adding triple that in just one year, with the promise of more of the same on his next extension. I’m sure he probably thinks he’s worth it, or can prove he is worth it. He probably thinks the Habs believe in him enough to match it, too — I don’t think he wants to leave Montreal, but he probably sees this as simply an earlier achievement of what they would hopefully be paying him anyway someday, in his eyes.

But even if he DOES perform up to that level, if he remains on the Habs that creates another massive problem crunching up against the salary cap: Nick Suzuki and Jake Evans are both RFA’s at the end of the 2021-22 season, and THEY will be looking for their “grown-up” contracts at that time, the SAME time KK will need to be signed again. Nick is probably going to develop into the better player between him and KK (look at where he already is right now), so even if KK performs excellently next year as say 2C, Nick looks like he will be even better at 1C — and if I’m Nick’s agent, I’m definitely starting my contract negotiations with what the Habs would be paying KK as my absolute lowest starting figure, if not higher. Jake probably has more of a 3C/4C upside, but if KK struggles and plays at a 3C/4C performance level and Jake does that well or better, then if I’m Jake Evans’ agent I am definitely putting my starting figure for negations right around $6.1 million, because I can argue “well, you’re paying Kotkaniemi that much, why not my client?”. Romanov is due up for his post-ELC RFA deal after next year too — because he’s more of a defensive defenceman who isn’t expected to score much, he likely can’t command the kind of figures that an offensively productive centre does, but you still need to have enough cap space to actually sign the guy for what he’s worth; Romanov is eligible for arbitration in that negotiation, so lowballing him too hard could get complicated and contentious fast. And all of this isn’t even including factors like depth players on one-year deals who will need to be replaced or brought back after this year, etc.

Accepting/matching this contract creates a dozen new problems the Habs didn’t have before at all. It carries massive risk and could cause problems for the cap and for roster construction even if KK takes off like a rocket and lives up to the figure on the sheet. I didn’t even touch on the absolute hell the fanbase and media will put him through if he is in Montreal on that kind of payday compared to the rest of the team and fails to live up to it. Alex Galchenyuk only made $4.5 million while he was here and struggling. Look how that turned out for him. You’ve seen how people get when Carey has a rough patch, how the $10.5 million gets brought up and thrown around, and that’s with Carey goddamn Price. I have been around this fanbase long enough to see what happens when people don’t feel you’ve lived up to your pricetag. It gets nasty. Think whatever you’ve seen hurled at Mitch Marner this year, then multiplied by a factor of “fanbase whose expectations have been disproportionately raised probably beyond what’s realistic by the miracle playoff run” and “the Montreal hockey media eats people alive even in good years”. He has been lucky so far in his struggles because he’s still young enough to be cheap. And I’ve still seen plenty of people already writing him off anyway.

Make no mistake: I love KK, I love what he brings to the team, I love how he fits in with the rest of the young core and their dynamics, and I really believe he has the potential to break out into a formidable 2C lowkey-superstar. And I was really, really looking forward to hopefully watching that growth and achievement happen with the Habs, as part of the super exciting future that has been building here. I will be heartbroken if this leads to him leaving, genuinely. My biggest worry with having this bright and shiny new core was always that I would have to watch it get torn apart and turn sad just like the last one.

But now that this contract, right now, at this point in his career is going to be the price of keeping him? I don’t know if matching it will be what’s best for the team as a whole, or even what is best for KK. I don’t know if Carolina actually gives a shit about him as a player enough to use and develop him right if they keep him, or what their end goal here even is other than definitely very literally getting petty revenge for the Aho thing, just look at their Twitter (I think the idea of this as DeAngelo counter-PR has become a bit overblown as an explanation, because surely they MUST know they could end up holding the tab for this and all the risk of it in the end, and that this will die down eventually, so either they’re incredibly stupid or there’s some other benefit here).

And regardless of which way everything goes, I can’t think of anyone I trust less to make the best choice for everyone involved than Marc fucking Bergevin.

[a-lil-perspective]

I have been silent for some time now. I have refrained from exhibiting any plaguing thoughts that might warrant me the label of “that person”, but I’m at the point where I’ve had my fill.

Ramble under the cut so as to not... offend or inconvenience anyone. There’s absolutely no obligation to read this. It’s Tumblr. You can block/ignore me. The option to do so is readily accessible.

I’ve been a Bad Batch fan since day one. While I didn’t start creating that very same day, it was relatively close. Point being, I’m a long-time dedicated fan. As the premiere to their series draws closer, I feel like there is going to be a great shift, rift here. That being said, I figured now is as good a time as any to make this post.

I love those boys beyond words. They’ve been the one constant in my life amidst a rapid and debilitating change. I love getting to give them life, even if my interpretations aren’t the most accurate.

Yes, I am a new Writer and yes, I am new to Tumblr, as I am sure both of those things are painfully apparent.

I get that it is impossible to please everyone. It’s something I’m learning more and more with each passing day. It’s something that gets harder to swallow, even more so.

I’d like to say that being here has been a largely positive experience, with all of these great connections and opportunities. But honestly? It’s been more isolating than anything. I’ve actually never felt more isolated than since I joined a year ago.

As a content creator or even just a general blogger, I don’t ask for much. I don’t ask for anything, in fact. I consider myself very low maintenance. I don’t demand/harass/play the martyr for reblogs. I have never mentioned it once, and never will. Some people on here are so damn passive-aggressive about it, and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. It’s very stigmatizing. While I completely understand the frustration surrounding the like-to-reblog ratio, I think it’s neither tasteful nor reputable to threaten to call people out for not reblogging your fics. I wish I could say I was joking on that one. But I’ve seen it profoundly. Not cool.

And yet, no one says anything or raises any concern there.

Yet I make metas, harmless rambles, and I get shot down? Seriously?

—I need to “chill”, it’s “overkill”, I’m “overthinking”. I and my content are apparently just so damn arduous to interact with.

If you don’t like me, please just move on. There are plenty of other Bad Batch creators for you to enjoy. You know that. My work is absolutely not the final say, and I’ve never claimed it to be.

What is so wrong, with sharing one’s thoughts? Why do people inherently have a problem with other’s creative efforts? I see it time over again. Why do I feel like if I was making a bunch of smutty posts it wouldn’t be as much of a problem, that it in fact would be infinitely more welcome? (Absolutely NO shade to people who create smut, okay? I’ve made my own share. I admire those bold enough to do so regularly. I absolutely love them. Please teach me your ways).

This ramble really has nothing to do with the most recent event regarding my contributions. Rather, it’s a culmination of experiences over the past several months that have brewed and festered to the point where I can no longer keep downplaying it.

Social media, at its core, is one big popularity contest. It always has been, it always will be. But I’m not here to win. That’s never been my objective. That’s not what I’m about. Surprise (or not), I am not a popular blog. Not by a long shot. I’ll never claim otherwise.

I don’t ask people to view/interact with my content, I’m not an activist, I can’t even fathom exuding that kind of confidence. Even though I, admittedly, crave it. I suspect I crave interaction as much as the next creator. It’s a nice feeling. Yet there’s never been any obligation for it, especially with me, so I don’t understand what the problem is. As I’ve said, there are ample ways for you to block/avoid me. It’s the internet. In this day and age, there’s no excuse for viewing anything you don’t want to.

I came here in the hopes of finding like-minded individuals, uplifting and interacting, and exercising some otherwise stunted creativity.

All Tumblr as taught me is that creating and contributing is largely a thankless, empty endeavor. You can give and give and give and be reduced to nothing. There’s a profound imbalance between “giving” and “receiving”, and in regards to both ends of the scale, it’s became apparent to me that if you don’t cater heavily and in unreasonable degrees or get “noticed” by a popular blog, you get nothing, and your efforts are null and void.

Truthfully? I constantly feel like I walk on eggshells here, and it’s all I can do to not crack under the pressure, even though it’s my blog and my headspace. I should feel comfortable and free to express myself here, and I don’t, and I’m unsure of how to achieve that sense of stability. To be completely honestly I feel like a constant bother and a nuisance. When I post, I literally feel like there is a collective eye-roll that comes with people receiving a notification from my blog. Even though I know, rationally, that can’t be true, that’s an absurd level of thinking. I can’t say I can pinpoint exactly where it stems from.

But regardless: I hardly ever talk about/create the things I actually want. I only recently just got ballsy enough to share some metas, and we all know how well that’s going. I try not to have smut out of respect for my asexual/minor mutuals, even though the tag to blacklist is very much an option. I try not to bring up conflicting topics, Tumblr, political, or otherwise, even though with proper tagging I could. But I try not to even bring that into existence. Even though it’s my right to, I don’t.

I don’t actually feel like I fit into any narrative here, especially in the Bad Batch fandom; even though we are all basically the same steadfast group of bloggers. We all know who we are. We all coexist in the same space. It’s nearly impossible to be unaware of each other, at this point.

And yet, I’m not in a bunch of Discord servers or backed by a team of beta readers and all that jazz. It’s basically just me talking to myself out here. It’s very isolating.

Part of that—most of it—is my own crippling social anxiety, and the genuine belief that I don’t deserve to be in the same space/servers as all of these brilliant creators. Because I’m just me, and there’s not a whole lot of value there. With that mindset, it’s hard to actually feel like I belong anywhere. I know that is a mindset I have to conquer alone.

My excitement over my creations has largely dwindled into nothing. I seldom ever bounce my ideas off of others—another issue that stems from the fear of presenting as a burden—and even though I try to write for myself, even that fire has pretty much died out. I’m not even sure how or if I could even reignite it, at this point. It’s really quite sad. It makes me very sad, actually. All I wanted was to safely ramble, project all my thoughts and creativity that has otherwise been repressed through prolonged detrimental circumstances.

More than anything, I wanted to find and hold onto something that makes me feel useful, meaningful, happy. More and more I wonder if that’s even possible. I don’t think it is, not here. I often wonder if joining and sharing on Tumblr was a horrible mistake. I miss the innocent joy of when I first started creating. It was so simple. I’m trying to find that simplicity again.

But I’m burned out. I’m running on fumes. I have been for some time.

At this point it goes beyond just “taking a break” from Tumblr. It’s the fact that it all feels like this meaningless, monotonous cycle. I wonder every day if I am an isolated case in experiencing these emotions.

And yet, come tomorrow I will still be here, business as usual.

I’m not asking for sympathy or playing the victim or attacking anyone or trying to guilt-trip into more interaction. I am very aware of my shortcomings and incorrect mindsets. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. I feel very disconnected from everyone here and it’s lonely. This took a lot for me to share. I will most likely delete this because anxiety will eat me up, as it does with everything I post. Yes, everything.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 75: Two Different Kinds of Tension

One of our lead couples has lunch with their in-laws and the other couples goes on a date.

Much, much later than I said it would be, here’s chapter 75!!!

First  Previous  Next

Adam is preparing to return home, watched by a very forlorn Galra. As eager as he is to go home, to get every detail of Altea back into working order, he finds a certain reluctance tugging at the back of his shirt. A part of him wants to stay.

“Do you really have to go?” Shiro asks, not for the first or last time, even though he already knows the answer. He wants Adam to stay too, or maybe he wants to follow. Neither is possible.

“Yes, I really have to go.” Adam pulls the last of his clothes from the captain’s closet, realizing just how many of his things -all of them- made it into Shiro’s quarters. “I’m leaving tomorrow with their Majesties and Pidge, as planned and expected.”

“I know. I know. I’m just really gonna miss you. You can’t blame me for that.”

“I suppose not.” Adam murmurs, laying out a set of nightclothes and a change of clothes for tomorrow on the stool up against the wall. “Though I still don’t really know what you see in me.”

“No, you don’t, do you?” Shiro hangs his shears on the wall, sweeping the trimmings off the floor below his trellises. The pieces he wants to keep are laid out on a worktable, ready to be tied and hung. All normal, innocent, except for the sly smirk on the man’s face.

Adam bristles. No one gets under his skin, sees everything underneath, the way Shiro does.

“I am a soldier, Adam. As far as I’m concerned, loyalty is the best characteristic a person can possess. The Captain takes his hand, gently tugs to pull him closer. “You fit that ideal more than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re clever, conniving, brilliant, beautiful-”

“That’s not-”

“It is true,” Shiro insists. “You are many things, and I wonder if you’re actually living up to your true potential.”

Adam licks his lips. Gulps. Melts against Shiro’s encompassing frame. “I am happy with what I’m doing. Though I’m not happy it’s time to leave.”

“It’s probably for the best, though. At least for now. My season is coming up in another movement. It might be a good thing you’re a planet away.”

“Right.” Adam’s edges fit with Shiro’s as best it can despite the size difference between them. “Call me after so I know you’re well, and let me know if I can send you anything.”

“Definitely. I’ll probably be missing your voice anyway. Maybe you could leave something of yours behind for me?”

“Just pick something. Whatever you want.” Adam closes his eyes, wraps his arms around Shiro’s waist. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more. I don’t want to leave you behind bonded to me.”

“I know. I’ll hold out for a day in the future, when one of us finally decides to retire. When we’re old and impotent.”

Adam scoffs. “Like we’ll like that long.” He steps back. “But I’ll look forward to it, just in case… What should we do with our last day?”

“Steal a ship and go for a joyride?” Shiro suggests. “I have something I’d like to show you.”

Adam regards his companion. “Yes, alright.”

“Excellent!”

As he pulls Adam down the hall, he never lets go of his hand. Adam doesn’t let go either.

Lance sighs, finishing the final clasp on his vest. “Can’t believe we’re going from baby joy to lunch with Zarkon. Are we being punished?”

“I’m just surprised he actually wants to see me,” Keith admits, tossing his now ill-fitting vest aside in favor of traditional clothes. He plans to decline a new wardrobe upon his return, at least until he has the kit. There’s no point in wasting materials. “I bet it’s just out of obligation. We’ve been here a phoeb and a half and he hasn’t called upon us yet. Word’s probably reached the people by now. Do I look okay?”

“What do you mean?” Lance asks.

“Do I… I want him to regret it. Throwing me away,” Keith whispers. “I want him to know he made a mistake.”

Lance stares at him for a long moment before kissing his forehead. “If he doesn’t already know, he will. That’s a promise, beloved. As for how you look, you look like a prince of Altea. We can do better, and we will soon, but this will do for now.”

“What does better look like?”

“Like a Galran prince of Altea. Like I said, when we go home, we’ll pick some better colors for you, and get some new jewelry made, and maybe replace this-” Lance points at Keith’s circlet. “-with that comb I gave you.”

Keith smiles, takes a deep breath. “Let’s grab Bruna and Calik. I don’t feel like walking- hi, baby!” BleepBloop scurries in, leaping into Keith’s open arms, wrapping his own arms around the prince’s neck. “Aw, I missed you too. You wanna come make a mess at lunch? Yeah, let’s go.”

“My only real competition,” Lance quips.

Keith cradles his pet, turning to his mate with a grin. “For now.”

Lance gasps, pretending offense. “That goes both ways, beloved!”

The princes mount their elk, returned this quintant by Krolia, hastening them on toward the compound at the top of the mountain. Krolia is waiting for them, smile quiet and subtle, another Galra with cheek and lip piercings standing beside her. “Bashti, take these elk to the stables; make sure they are fed and watered. Your majesties, I have been asked to escort you. His excellency has decided to eat outside today.”

Krolia leads them through halls into a courtyard bearing nothing but a table furnished with food and drink. The edge of the open ceiling is framed by columns, shaded halls beyond. The royal family is already there, Lotor speaking urgently to his father. Krolia leans in to explain.

“One of Captain Shirogane’s men, Haxus, failed to report a few quintants ago. No one has seen him since. This makes forty-seven members of the compound militia. Others have vanished from various fleets and battalions. Zarkon believes they are simply deserters. Lotor disagrees.”

Allura catches sight of them from her seat next to Lotor, face splitting into a grin when she sees her brother. She gets up, hurrying over, throwing her arms around her brother.

“Hi! It’s so good to see you both!”

“Hey! How’s my nibling doing?” Lance pats Allura’s rounding belly.

“Nibling is fine. I’m fine too, in case you were wondering. Lotor is… resisting the urge to commit patricide-”

“Sounds normal.”

“Yes. Romelle is… less fine, but she’s relatively healthy, so that’s something.” Allura tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

“I’m so sorry, ‘Lura.”

“It is what it is.” Allura smiles. “Father’s still looking, but at this point I’m not optimistic.”

“We’ll make sure she’s well taken care of, regardless.” Lance kisses his sister’s cheek, maneuvering carefully around her protruding belly. “Shall we go rescue your dear husband before he runs out of self-restraint?”

“Please and thank you,” Allura agrees. She pulls Keith into a hug. “I’m so glad to see you’re well-”

The prince pounds his fist on the table, making Allura jump. “IT IS NOT NORMAL!!!”

“Son, please. There is political upheaval. The people will adjust.”

Lotor seethes, jabbing a finger at his father. “You are completely-”

“Ah, Crown Prince Lancel, Prince Yorak! Welcome! I apologize for anything you might have overheard. My son and I were just having a disagreement.”

“It’s fine.” Lance waves away the emperor’s apology with a cheerful smile before helping Keith into his chair. “I’m just glad to know I’m not the only one who has the occasional screaming match with their father.”

“Oh, surely you and Alfor get along,” Honerva protests. “You are both so much alike.”

“I know.” Lance’s grin is sheepish as he takes his seat. If he notices the sly curl to the empress consort’s smile, he doesn’t show it. “I fear that’s where the problem lies. Our personalities are quite similar, but our views are quite different.”

“It is always this way with sons,” Honerva sighs. “It is for this reason I hope my sweet daughter is carrying a daughter of her own.”

Keith can feel the way Lance bristles at Honerva’s claim to his sister and nibling. He nudges his mate with his foot under the table.

Allura rescues them from a response. “Son, daughter, neither, either, I care not. If they are healthy and firm in their convictions, I will be satisfied.”

Zarkon grunts. “Better a son. At least let them present as male, so they’ll have better success in conquest.”

“Father, that is wildly archaic.” Lotor glares. “Conquest isn’t everything.”

“Conquest is the foundation for our entire society! If we have no conquest, we have nothing!” the emperor snaps.

Lance sighs. “Just when I think I understand you people…”

“Mnh. Understanding. A powerful thing,” Lotor agrees. “One that our peoples unfortunately struggle to find.” His gaze darts to his father with vicious accuracy.

Keith takes a deep breath, willing no one to start a fight as he starts in on his lunch. He has no real fondness for his uncle or aunt, less so as time goes on, as he processes everything these people have done to him. He meets his cousin’s eyes across the table, a flicker of understanding in his hybrid eyes.

“I’m working on it,” Lance continues, clearly trying to steer conversation. “I have a few ideas, but nothing actionable as of now… What concerns me is the fear. The locals here were terrified of me when I first arrived. It’s taken me my entire stay and a kronil attack to gain their trust, and I’m still not entirely sure that I have it.”

“They trust you,” Keith assures, dropping a kiss to his shoulder.

“Mnh. They did until we got back from your den in the woods and all my scales were glowing red.”

“They what now?” Allura looks up from her lunch, eyeing her brother with bafflement. “Why would they do that?”

When Lance only shrugs, Honerva cuts in. “Your alchemical abilities are unstable, aren’t they?”

Lance nods. Keith rises to his defense. “But improving every day.”

There’s a stretch of awkward silence in the wake of Honerva’s unimpressed look.

“At any rate,” Zarkon says, breaking the silence. “You all have much to learn, including how to be respectful of tradition. The Galra will not be altering their ways to please the Alteans. It’s your duty to make amends.”

“Make amends?” Lance frowns.

“Your people attacked us. Sooner or later, reparations must be paid.”

Lance inhales, ready to snap, but Keith kicks him under the table. The Altean bites his tongue, not willing to put Keith in the line of fire, even indirectly.

“I'm sure we’ll pay in one way or another,” Lance murmurs, thinking of his people’s declining numbers and quality of life. “We both will, I think. Having so much mistrust in your closest neighbor, it’s not good for any of us.”

Zarkon hums, watching Lance eat. He says nothing. No one does.

Keith watches his uncle, observing the way he inspects his mate. He can sense Honerva observing them, too. A glance at his cousin and sister-in-law shows that they’ve both noticed the imperial couple’s fixation on them. He wonders suddenly if his uncle can tell he’s pregnant, is already deciding how to use their kit the moment they’re born. Possibly before, if he can come up with something.

Have they made a mistake?

Keith finds Lance’s hand under the table, guides it to where his blade is concealed at his hip, a silent warning that they might be in danger. Lance laces their fingers together, acknowledging his concerns, promising support.

It only occurs to Keith much later that Lance was extremely careful not to reveal how much authority he has on Altea. He suspects that was for the best.

“So, you’ve seen rivers by now, and rain, and thunderstorms, but have you ever seen a sea?”” Shiro asks.

“I have not. I assume by your tone they are impressive?”

“I find them impressive, so I figure an Altean would as well. And this particular place has sentimental value to me.”

“Very well, then,” Adam sighs, pretending to find the excursion tedious. “Show me.”

Shiro kisses his cheek. “Always so contrary. I’ll settle us a ways back from the shore… This is where I was born, though it was a village at the time. It was destroyed in a skirmish before I lost my first set of teeth.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Mnh. Thank you, but I don’t really remember enough to be sorry myself.”

They both know that’s why Adam is sorry, but neither mentions it.

Shiro settles their ‘borrowed’ craft down on a flat bit of orange rock speckled with green corals, lowers the ramp. Adam takes the Galra’s hand preemptively, finding the action oddly satisfying. “Show me your sea, then. And what’s left of your first home.”

Shiro leads him from the craft, onto a swath of rock formations. The air smells of salt. “Watch your step. It’s just this way. I would have landed closer, but there’s not much more than sand where we’re going. It’s not good for the craft.”

Shiro leads him down the smoothed mounds of stone and around a bend, revealing a view of blue sky and brilliant green lagoon, waves curling over bright yellow sands. There are large, winged reptiles flapping overhead, diving into the water. In the distance, a great beast breaches the water, scales glinting in the sunlight, fins like wings as it sails long over the water.

“Well, here it is. The, um. The headman’s house was over there-” Shiro points their joined hands across the sand to the other side of the lagoon. “And there was a dock in the middle that stretched to the edge of the lagoon and across in both directions. The homes were made of wood and reeds, and they floated on the water.”

“What happened when it stormed?”

“We came ashore and hid in the cave cellars. Or so I’ve been told.” Shiro smiles. “We were a fishing village, and our livelihood came from the sea. Can you imagine it? Me? A fisherman?! But who knows, maybe I would have been good at it. Happy, even.”

“I can’t quite see you sitting on a mat of floating reeds, catching fish,” Adam muses. “I don’t think you could sit still long enough, if fishing actually works as I’ve heard it does.”

“With a stick and a string? Yes, that’s how it works.”

“Definitely not for you.” Adam gazes out at the green water, wind in his hair, salt in his nose, sun on his skin. “Then again, I imagine you would have loved the view. You could fish, and stare at it all day, imagining what’s beneath and on the other side.”

Shiro laughs. “I do think about it! Whenever I find the time to come here, I think about it… I’d like to take you back here, one day. To stay a few quintants, if it’s agreeable to you. I know it’s beneath you, but-”

Adam stops short, turning Shiro to face him. “It’s not. Nothing about you is beneath me, Takashi. Nothing at all. Please, if you believe nothing else, believe that.”

“If you say so.” The soldier gives him a crooked smile before leaning in to kiss him.

For once in his life, Adam decides not to resist change, or even hesitate, choosing instead to drown, to reciprocate. He pours as much into the kiss as he can, trying his best to feel sincere.

He lets their tongues twist, one smooth, one raspy. His fingers curl into the Galra’s short hair as their bodies press close together.

When they finally break apart, because that’s how it always is, Shiro’s gaze is part surprise, part questioning.

“I will miss you, Shiro. Every day.” It’s imperative that Shiro believes him.

“I’ll miss you too. Every day.” The Galra smiles, gray eyes shockingly warm.

Adam turns back to the sea, the waves sighing in his ears. “We should come back here someday. It’s quiet.”

“If ever we both find a day off, we will. But for this quintant, I think we have time for a walk?”

“Yes, we do.”

Grinning, Shiro reclaims his hand, leading him off across the sand, pointing out the remains of some architecture, a net stuck fast in a rockface.

When they return late in the evening, and Adam has time to pack all but the very last of his things, he finds hidden within them a small glass bottle full of bright yellow sand and a few tiny shells.

“Did you put this in here?”

“Yes. It’s a gift. I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”

Adam stares at the bottle, index finger running over a chip in the cork, a scratch in the glass. It’s an incredibly sweet gift, one he hadn’t expected.

“Takashi, will you do something for me?”

“Of course, if I can.”

“Will you- Will you write to me? Writing’s easier than talking.”

“Sure.” Shiro’s hands find his waist. “I look forward to reading what you have to write.”

“And I look forward to more gifts.”

Shiro chuckles. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Adam believes him. He promises himself he’ll reciprocate.

[itsuki-minamy]

“K - SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 1: “SPRINT DREAM” (Complete)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen."

"Good Morning!"

A pure voice echoes through the Kendo hall of "Promotion Scepter 4".

Many remains of that remain, in the office that was created with the remodeling of the old Army facilities. The Kendo hall is one of them, and the idols belonging to "Scepter 4" sometimes take lessons there and other times hold their swords in their hands.

And at the beginning of the week, there was always an instruction from the president, the "Idol Blue King", Reisi Munakata.

Munakata makes a soft voice in front of the idols lined up in a "rest" position.

"By the way, this week is the biggest event of the year for my production, "Sprint". The "Dream Live Tour" will take place. I hope to have the encouragement of each member so that no preparation or lesson is neglected."

"Yes!"

The responses of the idols are not disturbed. More than an entertainment bureau, the closer rigor to the police or the military was due to the nature of representative Reisi Munakata, and it was also a feature of "Promotion Scepter 4".

The group's glasses glowed brightly, staring at an idol.

"But recently, I have received some concerns, Andy Domyoji-kun. Go ahead."

"Yes!"

Domyoji, who was called by name, screamed to death. From his normally cheerful face, blood is drawn in the blink of an eye.

Domyoji took a heavy step and stepped out in front of the superior.

There is no anger in Munakata's expression. A slight smile floats on the sleek face like a statue. That doesn't mean that Domyoji and the other idols were relieved that they didn't understand the superior.

It was a man named Reisi Munakata, who sentenced to death with a smile.

"Domyoji-kun. The other day, there was a report that you were 5 minutes and 27 seconds late for the entire "Gyumetai" lesson. Is this true?"

"Actually, that's…"

"What is an idol in "Promotion Scepter 4"?"

"Ah, idols aim to be the ideal humans who should become the norm for people..."

"Do you have your own excuse for being late, knowing that?"

"No, I'm sorry..."

Domyoji is drooling. It was like a prosecution and a defendant, but in this case it was a military trial rather than an ordinary court. The sentence is already decided from the beginning, and this exchange is only a ritual.

Munakata acts like he's convinced of something,

"Ok. Let's ask Domyoji-kun to do one of the highlights of the "Sprint Dream Live Tour", "Extreme solo part, Idol from above 6500~”."

"What?"

With a strange voice, Domyoji's expression was frozen in despair. Munakata smiles and touches his shoulder intimately.

"As you know, "Extreme Solo Part" is one of the most popular projects on "Countdown Dissolution, Shoumutai". This time it's a solo part while skydiving from an altitude of 2,000 meters, so his brave figure will be a great copy on the big screen."

"President, please! That's! Just forgive me!"

"What do you say? This is your chance to get more fans. And if you're at the mercy of your life, you won't be late for lessons."

Munakata treats Domyoji, who clings to his eyes, with a smiling smile. The idols are silently staring at the horrible sight.

"Kindness is called haste. Let's start the special training today. Akiyama-kun, Benzai-kun, please take him to the office to complete the procedure."

"Yes!"

The same members of the "Shoumutai", Himori Akiyama and Yujiro Benzai, grabbed Domyoji crying from both sides. Domyoji screams while ruffling his hair.

"Not! I don't like the "Extreme solo part"! Akiyama, Benzai, I am a posterity, so don't miss out!"

"Hold on, Domyoji."

"Oh. Get angry and train. Hopefully you won't die."

Domyoji was dragged out of the Kendo room.

When the door closed, Munakata saw the idols lined up. All the idols looked at Munakata with a better attitude than before.

Munakata says, looking at him with satisfaction.

"Don't be late either. As members of society and as idols who should be a human norm, please respect that."

"Yes!"

The voice of the idols who responded contained a desperate sound.

++++++++++

"Sorry, President! I can't make it on time!"

The driver's scream also contains a desperate sound.

As he listened to him in the backseat, Munakata gracefully reassembled his legs, put his hand to his jaw, and muttered, "Hmm."

"Sprint Dream Live Tour", first day, 4:52 pm.

Munakata's transport vehicle got caught in heavy traffic filling the road and got stuck at all.

Until the day before, Munakata was planning a large-scale live concert in London as part of the overseas expansion of "Promotion Scepter 4". The big picture and charisma of Reisi Munakata, the "Idol King", managed to shake up the stubborn management of the French entertainment world. A few hours ago he won a partnership and a contract in the EU and returned triumphantly to Narita airport.

From the transport vehicle, Munakata continued to instruct the "Sprint Dream Live Tour". Back home. Although he has a difficult schedule of immediate events, he does not have fatigue or mistakes. There was a figure like: the perfect idol king.

It was in the time after Sakura's exchange that the news of the accident and jamming arrived.

Fortunately, no one died, but traffic was completely paralyzed. A line of cars continues towards the horizon, and it takes 30 minutes to finally reach 100 meters. Literally, he was forced into a state of immobility.

If nothing is done, the big event that is approaching a few hours later, will expose the mistake that the "Idol King" will be late.

In such a critical situation, however, there was no impatience in Reisi Munakata's expression.

"Ok."

Munakata says cheerfully to the driver reflected in the rearview mirror.

"I understand the situation. Please, I'll get off at the next intersection."

"But it will take 30 minutes to get there and, according to traffic information, the situation is similar on the lower road."

"It doesn't matter. In the meantime, let's get ready."

Munakata took his PDA out of his pocket and made a call. Munakata's trusted deputy director responded with two calls. It's Awashima Seri.

"Where is he now, President?"

"Currently, we are targeting a four-way interchange. It will take about 30 minutes to get there. I am planning to get out of here."

"That is…"

Awashima groaned. Even if he can get off the four road interchange, it will take more than an hour from there to the location, regardless of the mode of transportation. Since the show started at 6:30 pm, arrival on time is desperate.

After a few seconds of silence, Awashima's voice regained its composure.

"I would like to review the song list. The current program is to start with the president's number at the same time the performance begins, but we will correct this to start from "Shoumutai" and put the president's turn as far back as possible."

"Rejected."

Munakata categorically blocked her.

“Changing the song list will cut the rhythm of the fans. As idols, we shouldn't give fans any kind of anxiety."

"However! If this continues…!"

"I will be on time."

"......"

Awashima lost the words.

He was not surprised by Munakata's recklessness. She knows more than anyone what kind of person Munakata is and what kind of idol he is. He's never the type to talk about the impossible and break the plan.

If Reisi Munakata says that he can do it, he certainly can do it even if all other humans can't.

The next time Awashima opened her mouth, there was a determined intention.

"So, President. Please give us instructions."

A satisfied smile reached Munakata's mouth.

And 30 minutes later.

As soon as all contacts were completed, the transport vehicle passed the toll booth.

The lower street was still full of cars. Since Munakata hated traffic, he analyzed the situation. Progress is not much different from high speed.

However, that is no longer relevant to Munakata.

Because this is the end of the transport vehicle.

When he got out of the vehicle, the driver's seat window was opened. The driver looks from there and says...

"President, I wish you good luck."

Munakata smiled calmly at the young driver.

"Yes. Please drive carefully and come back."

That said, the next moment, Munakata was on the run.

With a forward leaning sprint style, Munakata is steadily increasing in speed. He reached a row of cars that couldn't move like a tombstone, and finally couldn't see his back.

Even after that, the conductor continued to pour his longing eyes beyond the horizon where Munakata disappeared. Holding on his chest the driver's cap that he took off as a sign of respect.

++++++++++

That day, Kazumasa Hatanaka (19) was driving his favorite Hara Chari.

He is in an unprecedented mood because he was able to finish his work early. The construction company he works for has been working hard these days, but yesterday they calmed down and was able to pay him. Hatanaka, who worked especially hard, was allowed to return home as the president had a special plan that day.

Akemi Hatanaka (18), a heavy wife, waits at home. Just thinking about it will loosen the origin of Hatanaka. When he wondered if he could serve his beloved wife and a child he had yet to see, his tired body mysteriously strengthened.

(Oh, that's right. Should I contact her to get back to Akemi soon?)

Suddenly, Hatanaka took out his mobile phone while driving the Hara Chari. He tries to send a message to his wife using one hand to handle and one hand to write.

Was when…

"You…"

"Oh?"

Hatanaka was about to fall due to the noise surrounding his ears. The body, which was about to slalom, was held by an outstretched hand and returned to its original trajectory.

While running to Hatanaka's side, the bespectacled man yells in a soft voice.

"It is a violation of the Road Traffic Law to use a mobile phone while driving."

"Uh, oh, sorry."

“In addition, it has already exceeded the legal speed of motorized bicycles. Wear your helmet correctly. It is meant to protect your life."

"Ah, hey, uh, yeah, sorry."

Hatanaka, who was once feared for being a "Chitaka mad dog", simply admitted his guilt not because he understood the accuracy of the words of the man with the glasses. This is because he was upset and scared by Hara Chari's run and the appearance of a man running side by side on only his own feet.

The man with the glasses smiled at Hatanaka's stunned face.

"Okay. If you follow the law and try to drive safely, you won't make driving mistakes like you do now."

(No, no, I'm going to be mad now because you called me. Do you want them to tell you that driving safely is something like running at that speed?)

The word never left Hatanaka's mouth at last. The man with the glasses raised his hand slightly and said, "Excuse me, bye." and then sped up and disappeared from Hatanaka's sight.

Hatanaka was stunned as he slowed the Hara Chari to 30 km / h.

(Is that so? I wonder if the god of the road advised me...)

There is a yellow light ahead. It stopped at the stop line correctly where it would normally cut, and the director took control.

(From now on, I will drive safely.)

++++++++++

That day, Nami Sakai (6) looked at the giant tree with tears in her eyes.

A blue balloon is stuck in a tree branch. It was in the hands of Nami just a few minutes ago, and in the hands of her beloved grandmother ten minutes ago.

Nami felt like a treasure when she received the blue balloon from her grandmother's wrinkled hand. She would take it home, about 10 minutes on foot, and she rushed to show it to her mother, but she accidentally fell off.

The balloon, which was detached from Nami's hand, floated in the sky and was blown away by the wind. She got trapped in a giant tree.

The giant tree has a height of about 10 meters. The blue balloon got caught near the top. Even if she asked the adults who passed by to take it, they just laughed and shook their heads.

Can't she get it again?

Every time she thought about it, she was filled with regret, sadness and guilt, and it turned into tears and appeared in Nami's eyes.

When the tears were about to break, Nami suddenly noticed something approaching from a distant road.

(Eh?)

In her childhood thoughts, Nami makes such a judgment.

In fact, in the distance it was like a colored wind. If she thinks it were there, it is way ahead. Nami stared at the blue breeze, which flowed without shaking her side, for a while, forgetting her sadness.

Suddenly…

With that wind, the eyes met.

The moment she thought that, he was already in front of her. When he stopped, the wind was not the wind, but a grown man with glasses. The skin is white like a woman and the facial features are beautifully groomed.

For some embarrassed reason, Nami looked down at her toes. The voice of a kind man spills over her.

"Do you have any problem?"

Nami looks at the man.

When she looked into the eyes behind the glasses, she felt like she was being sucked into the deep sky.

Nami opens her mouth to be fascinated.

"I cannot do it."

The man looks at the balloon at the point. Nami looked away and turned down. She was sure this person couldn't do it, and like everyone else, he would laugh and say "Give up", she felt such disappointment in her small chest.

But the man said in a nonsensical tone.

"Please wait a bit."

The man was already kicking the ground when she turned her face away.

He clings to the trunk of the huge tree and climbs up when he's ready. He deftly found the dents and bumps that could be called a steps, and in the blink of an eye he reached the top and took the blue balloon in his hand.

Nami was looking at the man who came down the same way, her mouth hanging open.

"Here it is."

Although he offered her the balloon, she was unable to receive it for a time. Then, finally picking it up, she asked with all her courage.

"Oni-chan... what?"

If you translate those boring words into something that makes more sense, it would mean something like "That move was out of the ordinary, who are you?"

The man accurately grasped the meaning of the question, smiled a little,

"I am an idol."

He responded like this.

Nami didn't really understand what an "idol" was. She blinks and look at the man. With a smile on his face, the man reached into his pocket and handed Nami a card.

"If you grow a little, come see us live."

The words "Promotion Scepter 4, President Reisi Munakata" were written there.

Of course, Nami can't read the card. She doesn’t even know about the existence of a business card. However, she thought the blue-tinted card was beautiful. Blue was Nami's favorite color.

Nami finally remembered what she should say to the man who gave her something nice and got back what she wanted back.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome. Well, I'm going."

The man bowed, turned blue again, and ran down the road.

Nami won't forget him forever.

++++++++++

An hour after the start of "Sprint Dream Live", the heat in the Tsubakimon Dome was visibly increasing. At the same time as the entrance began, a group of fans flowed into the audience seats like a flood, and they began to furnish the place with posters, posters and items with each of the recommended men drawn. At the same time, fans are excited about the upcoming festival and are looking at the stage with shining eyes.

To meet that expectation, a scene similar to a battlefield was unfolding in the backyard of the stage.

"The president has arrived at Shikaido Station! We will move on to Sequence B!"

"The target has been set at point B! We will wait until the president picks it up!"

In the temporary monitor room with the sign "Headquarters for the execution of the president's return plan", a part of the backyard, reports were constantly being raised.

The purpose of this headquarters is to fully support the return of Munakata. The staff involved are elite to make the "return plan" successful, from organizing and contacting various locations, managing the schedule, passing on traffic information and understanding Munakata's current position.

In one of the compounds in the panel, his current position is always displayed by the Munakata PDA tracking system. Awashima asks the staff while looking at them with a tight gaze.

"What is the progress of the plan?"

"It is 2 minutes and 15 seconds late, but it is within expectations. Currently, the Sequence C execution unit is moving. We will get to Point C on time."

"So…"

Awashima occupies a small area and looks at the monitor.

The plan is going well. At this rate, he can be in time for the opening ceremony, even if it's at the last minute. Unless something unexpected happens.

"Deputy Director Awashima."

Awashima looks around in a loose voice, rolling her shoulders.

Fushimi Saruhiko was as if he was leaning against the monitor room door.

He is the star idol of "Promotion Scepter 4", which is the center of the popular "Shoumutai" unit. Many fans were fascinated by the lonely atmosphere, and about 30% of the customers who packed the dome today are looking for him.

Awashima opens her mouth as she calmly looks at Fushimi.

"Fushimi. You should be in the final stages of doing a "Dream Corps."

"If the president is late, there won't be any 'Shoumutai', right?"

Awashima's beautiful eyebrows drew a dangerous angle.

“The plan is on the right track. You do not have to worry about that."

Fushimi laughs. It was an annoying laugh.

"Isn't there a countermeasure in case we run out of the star? Do you really think he can pull it off?"

"What do you mean?"

Fushimi casually pulled his hand out of his pocket and tossed what he was holding to Awashima. Awashima takes it deftly.

It is a recording medium in the form of a micro card.

"If you don't, I will. I made a new list of songs. If the president is late, I will."

Awashima's expression becomes more and more pronounced in a throwing tone. She squeezes the recording medium and she says quietly.

"Do you think I will receive this?"

"If you don't need it, you can throw it away. I can't bear to expose ourselves to that person's mistakes."

Awashima quickly waved her arm and threw the recording medium back.

"President…"

Fushimi deftly accepts that which came back like a bullet. Awashima, looking at the stagnant eyes behind the glasses as if shooting.

"I will not make any mistakes."

"Sorry."

Fushimi shrugged slightly and went back to his place. Looking back at Awashima over his neck.

"Well, tell me if you need it."

With that alone, Fushimi left the monitor room.

Awashima stared at the monitor room door for a while, staring into his eyes. It's like doing it is a protest against Fushimi.

It's not that she doesn’t understand what Fushimi is saying.

Believing is different from believing blindly. Fushimi's view that he assumes the worst and take countermeasures is entirely correct.

However, Awashima did not receive that song list. She refused to even see it and turned around.

She felt that receiving it would be a distrust of Munakata, who had confirmed that he would be on time.

"The president has reached point C! Collection complete!"

"We have started to move! The plan is going well!"

Awashima muttered unknowingly, listening to the reports that came in one after another.

"President, be careful."

Those words were like a prayer.

++++++++++

That day, Yuri Yamazaki (26) was vaguely in front of Shikaido station.

She works in a product store managed directly by "Promotion Scepter 4". It was supposed to be closed today due to the shift, but she got an urgent call from her boss about 5 minutes ago. She had no particular plan, and she was quick to get to this point because she was drawn to a pretty good vacation assignment.

Anyway, Yuri thinks.

It was a strange call. Being with the bicycle in front of the station instead of the store.

Apparently, they told her to lend the bike to someone, but they did not tell him who to lend it to and only told her the time of the meeting. It would be profitable to get a vacation allowance on this alone, but Yuri checks her cell phone while deeply thinking that she would complain if she was forced to do something else.

Seeing the displayed time, she sighed.

The "Sprint Dream Live Tour" will begin soon. Like most idol shop clerks, she is a fan of “Promotion Scepter 4.” She decided to work at an idol shop because she loved idols.

However, just because she is an employee doesn't mean there are benefits. Controls in that area are tight, and the clerk who secretly secured her own live ticket was sometimes ill. She must take the ticket herself, and if the lottery is lost, the schedule may disappear from the vacation she got, just like the current situation.

Two minutes have passed since the specified time.

"I wonder... if he's late, can I contact him?"

She doesn’t know, the murmur leaks out. After 5 minutes, she will contact the store manager. Thinking of that, she suddenly looked up.

And she doubts her eyes.

Someone was running from the street in front of the station, at tremendous speed. He easily overtook the next bike and came closer. Yuri instinctively tried to back away.

However, when she saw the man's face, she doubted her sanity.

"Ah, President?"

What she unwittingly said was the nickname of Reisi Munakata, the representative of "Promotion Scepter 4" and "Idol King". Naturally, it spread from the case where the idols under his command called him "President."

Faced with the stiff lily, Munakata strode over to a halt. He exhales a little and smiles at Yuri.

"Excuse me, are you a store clerk?"

"Eh, yes!"

Her voice shook. Feel the blood of her entire body concentrate on her face. The reason is that Yuri Yamazaki's favorite idol is Reisi Munakata.

Half in panic, she yells out the questions that come to mind.

"But why are you here?! What happened to the 'Sprint Dream Live Tour'?"

"I'm having a little problem and I've taken a different route than normal. Don't worry, I'll be in time for the opening."

She felt as if the blood that had risen through her head was coming down this time.

In other words, it is an emergency. Yuri was a fan and she knew how confusing it would be to be late for the opening ceremony. Perplexity, pain, disappointment. Just imagining being there, the pain felt like its own.

Yuri rushes up and says.

"Is there anything I can do?!"

“Lend me the bicycle. It's enough."

Yuri blushed again. If she thinks about it again, it was probably all part of the plan coming here. It is not a feat for the Munakata representative to give instructions to the directly administered office.

"Please..."

"Thank you."

Munakata straddled the bike without showing any pretense of noticing Yuri's tension. Somehow, it was an unattainable sight. The King of Idols, who can only be seen on TV or on stage, sits astride her bike.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going."

"Oh, yeah!"

Yuri instinctively stopped Munakata who was trying to get out.

Munakata looks at Yuri with his foot on the pedal. She held her breath with a mysterious look.

("Please sign.")

She had to desperately suppress that desire that came to her mind. Hasn’t she just found out it's an emergency? There is no second chance. And yet, unable to say such a silly request, that embarrassment forced Yuri's awkward smile and false words.

"Please do your best. I support you!"

Munakata, however, was looking at Yuri's face with calm eyes that looked through all her smile and strength. Munakata laughed lightly at Yuri, who suddenly became flustered and reached into her pocket.

"What should I write?"

"Eh?"

"I have a pen, but I don't really have colored paper. It's not in good taste with a notepad."

Yuri blinked many times. The feeling of regret, even the time she was wandering and wondering why him could see through her desires made her stiff.

Yuri handed him the PDA she was holding in her outstretched hand to Munakata. With her voice asking "Is it okay here?", she was fascinated by the magically moving pen. She picked up the PDA again, looking at the Munakata signature written there, and it was like a soliloquy.

"Why...?"

"I am an idol."

Munakata's response, as well as their relationship, was open and frozen.

"Idols live up to the expectations of their fans. My job is to capture your expectations."

"......"

"Good luck then. Thank you for your continued support."

With a courteous greeting, Munakata pedaled off the road in no time.

Yuri holds her PDA to her chest while watching him back. She murmured in an emotional voice, promising to turn it into a relic, and she was about to buy a new one.

"President, I will follow you for the rest of my life!"

++++++++++

That day, Yojiro Sato (51) was driving his own high-speed boat and racing in Tokyo Bay.

His main business was fisherman, but he also works as a fishing boat captain as a side job. In any case, the main job is to chase the school of fish, current high-speed boats are used for that purpose.

But today's work was different than usual.

The client was a fishing cooperative and the content of the request was mysterious: "Anyway, I want you to go to Chiba city using a high speed boat." He goes through it several times, but it seems the reason he couldn't get the point was because the fishing cooperative was asked to go further.

Sato accepted it simply because the reward was great. Otherwise, it would not accept suspicious requests.

However, when he passed by the Tokyo Bay Aqualine, he began to regret it.

He doesn't think it's a dangerous story.

It goes without saying that Tokyo is one of the largest cities in the world and Tokyo Bay is a large adjacent port. Many are trying to carry out illegal transactions by sea. Unfortunately, he has heard stories of people involved in such problems at the level of rumors.

He's been through the fishing cooperative, so he doesn't think it's something to worry about.

Even so, a bit of anxiety washed over Sato's mind.

At that moment the radio sounded. When he reached out his hand and responded by reflex, he heard an unfamiliar voice on the back of the radio.

"Hello. Is this Mr. Yojiro Sato?"

It was a feminine and intelligent voice. Sato responds while confused.

"Oh, yeah. That's right."

"Nice to meet you, my name is Seri Awashima. I was the one who made the request."

"Oh, I see."

The confusion disappeared, but Sato pressed his face into place. Listen to Awashima's words, eager to decline the request in the event of an emergency.

"First of all, I apologize for reporting uncertain content to you in the application. I was in a hurry, so I thought about explaining after taking the first step."

"Okay, but what kind of job is this after all? It doesn't appear to be a fishing request."

"Yes. I want you to pick up a certain person."

When suspicion and vigilance increase, he raises his eyebrow. Sato asked in a low voice.

"Who is that? He is not a criminal, right?"

"What, criminal?"

From the other side of the meeting, he could feel the sign that Awashima was completely disappointed. The voice that echoed next seemed to lack a bit of calm, unlike before.

"Incorrect! The president is not involved in such things!"

"Oh, yeah."

At the angry response, Awashima coughed a little.

"No, sorry. It may be inevitable that it looks like this. I would like you to pick up Reisi Munakata, the representative idol of "Promotion Scepter 4"."

While driving, Sato is confused.

"Why do idols want to get on our ship?"

“As I said before, it is an urgent matter. He didn't seem to be in time for a regular water taxi, so I contacted you."

"Hmm... Well, it's okay."

Sato is not familiar with idols. He is simply not interested. From time to time he sees them on television, but to him they all have similar faces and clothes, so he cannot tell them apart.

That sect image is probably one of those idols. No wonder that is used instead of a taxi, but, work is work.

"So where should I pick him up?"

"Please wait a moment. I'll link the information on the president's location to that PDA."

"Eh?"

A second after the stupid voice leaked out, a spot of light lit up on the GPS map attached to the ship. Sato opens his mouth and looks at it moving at high speed on the map.

“Did you get the location? The point that lights up in blue is the current position of the president."

"Yes, I got it."

"Good. Get closer to the point of light. It also shows the next meeting points."

The GPS map reacts again and projects an orange spot of light. It shows a jetty near the beach park, that made Sato panic even more.

"Wait a minute! How did you do that? This is my PDA, right? Why can you operate it on that side?"

"There is no time to lose! I took emergency measures! Rest assured that we have formal permission to use the system!"

"What is that system?"

To Sato's confusion, Awashima doesn't reply. "More than that!" When he started yelling, the blue point of light on the map continued to flash.

“He is approaching the meeting point. Thanks for your cooperation. Awashima, over and out."

And the radio was unilaterally cut off, leaving only Sato who was confused.

The ship curves and begins to move parallel to the shore. Sato alternately compared the map and the coast. If this location is correct, Munakata will soon be in sight.

"Ah."

With that said, he opened his mouth. Someone was there. That's probably definitely Munakata.

From a distance, he can only tell that he is a man. It would have been indistinguishable on its own, but the appearance of a human who could ride a bicycle at a speed comparable to that of a high-speed boat fits this unusual situation perfectly.

"What should I do?"

Sato is a man of the sea. He is confident that he can handle most things that happen at sea. However, he had never imagined such a situation. Sato looked towards the beach while maintaining his speed.

At that moment, Munakata pointed forward.

Sato looks ahead so he can catch it. A jetty leading off the shore blocked the ship's path as it gently curved.

Reflecting a sailor, Sato curves the speedboat along the jetty.

Munakata's bike has picked up speed.

"Hey, it can't be!"

Unknowingly, Sato was screaming. Because he understood the man's thoughts. Because he understood the meaning of "meeting point" that Awashima said on the radio.

The bicycle races down the jetty at a speed that exceeds that of high-speed boats. Sato made the boat's engine run at full speed. It was not because he understood their speculations, but because he thought that, as a man of the sea, he would not be able to stand upright if he was driving a boat and losing to a bicycle.

The bicycle and the speed boat run next to each other for a very short distance.

For the first time, Sato saw Munakata's face.

Munakata was smiling with a clean face in front of him. It was not the expression of a human reaching such high speed on a bicycle. He was horrified. Perhaps this is a monster that seemed to drag him to the bottom of the sea. Even such an imagination took over his head.

Munakata's bicycle leaned over. At the end of the jetty, Sato's high-speed boat drew closer and Munakata jumped with the bicycle with only the spring from his body.

Sato opened his eyes and looked at the figure of Munakata leaping against the sun.

After a short break, Munakata's bicycle landed on the back of the high-speed boat, made a sharp turn, and came to a stop.

"Fu..."

With a sigh, Munakata wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"......"

Sato was just looking at Munakata, who was behaving like a human, with his mouth open.

When he got out and parked at the bicycle rack, Munakata looked at Sato and said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you. Sato Yojiro-san. My name is Reisi Munakata. Thank you for your transportation to the planned location."

Swallowing hard, Sato asks suspiciously.

"You are a human?"

After opening his eyes somewhat surprisingly, he replied with a bitter smile.

"I'm just an idol."

++++++++++

At the Suzugaya sorting yard, Domyoji Andy (19) turned his pale face down and swallowed nausea.

He, who is scheduled to appear on "Sprint Dream Live Tour", is at that location because the Suzugaya courtyard is a helicopter landing site owned by "Scepter 4."

The event titled "Extreme Solo Part, Idol from Above 6500~", is Domyoji's assigned role this time. The event of strumming a guitar solo while skydiving from 2000 meters above the sky is sure to be a great thrill if it succeeds, but it can only be said that it is insane.

For today, Domyoji was repeating a special training every day. In total, it would have fallen enough to reach the surface from the stratosphere. Domyoji said that if he ran for Guinness, he would not pass, and gave a tired smile.

At that moment the door to the waiting room was opened and the staff entered.

"Domyoji-san, please prepare for take-off!"

"Eh?"

His eyes are round. Domyoji looks at the watch as it is. There is still some time left before the live begins. The turn of "Shoumutai", including Domyoji, was supposed to be in the second half of the opening ceremony.

"Is it still early? Was there an accident?"

Anyway, when he got up and left the room with the staff, Domyoji was so quiet. He doesn’t know what kind of problems are waiting in the live presentation. Not only staff but also idols need to take this into account and respond flexibly.

"There is no change to Domyoji-san's appearance time! We are going to pick up the president from now on!"

Domyoji opened his mouth. The staff didn't look back and pushed the door in front of them while walking quickly.

At the landing site, the helicopter was already preparing for takeoff. The high-speed rotating main rotor disperses a roar like a gunshot. Defeating the sound, Domyoji yelled at the back of the staff.

"What happened to the president? That person is surely the interpreter for the opening ceremony!"

“Currently, the president is crossing Tokyo Bay! We'll pick him up at sea and head straight to the Tsubakimon Dome!"

Domyoji is confused. He is crossing Tokyo Bay? He has no idea what the hell is going on. What he knows is that he is about to fly high again.

After sitting on the seat and fixing his body with a harness, Domyoji finally noticed.

"Hey! Don't I need it if I pick up the president?!"

"It's the president's judgment that it's a waste of time to go back every time! After leaving the president in the dome, Domyoji-san will wait in the sky until the time of the "Extreme solo part, Idol from above 6500~”!"

That was brilliant. Wait a minute, he try to tell if he would be flying all the time, but then his body was fixed. Jumping out the rear hatch, the staff gave Domyoji a big thumb up.

"Thank you good luck!"

The hatch closes as he continues. The sound of the rotor increases the pitch. Domyoji's stunned face disappeared into the darkness of the plane.

++++++++++

"The President has arrived at meeting point E! The pickup helicopter that was already waiting has started to approach!"

"Let go of the rope, the helicopter must be very careful!"

"Got it! Let go of the rope! Try to drive safely!"

Brilliant laughter erupted in the monitor room as the pilot made a joke. Private language during the operation should be strictly prohibited, but Awashima felt a slight smile on her lips. This would indicate their high morale. She doesn’t have to worry.

"President, I secured a rope! Start climbing."

"Domyoji, can't you point the CCD camera at the president?"

"Oh, yeah, I'll try."

Domyoji hastily responded to Awashima's voice. After a while, a rough image appears on one of the monitors.

Munakata was about to board the helicopter. Standing in the open hatch, he turns and pays him homage. A high speed boat floating ahead, probably Yojiro Sato, a man who appeared to be the captain took off his hat and waved it.

The expression of the image has been softened.

"President. Thank you for being safe."

On the CCD camera, he sees Munakata smiling.

“Thank you for your hard work, Awashima-kun. Did you worry?"

Awashima shakes her head slowly.

"I wasn't worried."

It was a lie. During these 30 minutes, Awashima has looked at the clock no less than 50 times. It's not because she doesn’t trust Munakata. It is probably due to the weakness of Awashima's heart.

Munakata's deep eyes can even see Awashima's inner heart. Still, she looked directly at her boss and reported on the situation.

"We are on time. If you move at full speed from the current location of the president, it will be enough to reach the inauguration. The president's suit has been brought to the room of the occupant of the helicopter."

"Okay. Let's finish all the preparations on the fly. Has the final landing point I submitted changed?"

"No, there are no changes. The helipad is already in control."

At that moment, one of the monitors lit up red and emitted a warning sound.

"What?"

"I will confirm it!"

Staff operate the console quickly. Awashima holds her breath and stares at the movement.

Finally, the staff raised a strained voice.

“There was a fire at the Tsubakimon Dome Hotel! Looks like an evacuation notice has been issued at the hotel!"

"No!"

“No recommendations have been issued for this place! Deputy Chief, what do we do?"

Impatience melts in her hand. Various thoughts come to mind instantly. How big is the fire? How to accept evacuees? Should the concert be canceled, even if no recommendations have been made? The enthusiasm of the people involved and the fans for this live show is extraordinary. But if something happens to the fans, it is irreparable.

An intelligent voice broke those thoughts.

"Awashima-kun. Confirm the evacuation of the hotel guests."

Raise her face. Beyond the CCD camera, Munakata's rough expression was as calm as if he were sitting at his usual office desk.

Awashima looks at the staff. The personnel turned to the front and quickly returned to operating the console.

Finally, he told the staff in a shocked voice.

"We share the confirmation of the status of the place, but the evacuation of the three guests has not been completed! It seems that we are reconfirming the people who have been in the air and have been evacuated!"

"Three people. That means they are…"

The CCD camera points in the other direction. Seeing that, Awashima took a breath.

Near the window on the smokeless floor. A man and a woman are crouched in a narrow space. The woman appeared to be holding a child.

"The number of people matches. Apparently, the evacuation was delayed."

Awashima looks at the image from the CCD camera. Imagine a tragic future for a family left behind at the scene of the fire and blood gushes from their faces.

And Munakata said of course.

"I am heading to the rescue."

Awashima knew that Munakata would say so. Knowing that, she still screams...

"President! Don't do it!"

Domyoji's camera captures Munakata's face. Munakata wasn't looking there. He murmured, looking serious at the scene of the fire, perhaps putting together another thought.

"Awashima-kun. About us?"

"Ah..."

The answer to that was fixed. Awashima squeezed her hand so tightly that her nails dug into her palm.

"We are... idols...!"

"What kind of person is an idol in "Promotion Scepter 4"?"

"Our goal is to be the ideal human who should be a role model for people."

Munakata looked at Awashima with a teacher's gaze, watching over the poor students who gave the correct answer.

"So that's it."

"Huh!"

Munakata goes to the scene of the fire. Although he is an idol, he is only a human. There is no guarantee that he will be able to return safely, so the worst consequences may await him in the future.

And, while looking at the worst, taking steps to prevent it from happening is also a condition of being an ideal human.

Awashima said that decisively when she took a little breath, exhaled and was ready to do it.

“We will contact the various parties involved in the handling of this incident and request assistance in rescue activities. I pray for your safety, President."

Behind the camera, Munakata nodded slightly.

Fushimi Saruhiko clicked his tongue as he leaned his back against the wall.

If Munakata's decision was stupid, Awashima, who followed him, could only be seen as a fool. He are an ideal person and he are trying to ruin his job by getting caught up in an additional idea. Fushimi's frank opinion is that, it is the role of rescuers to help the victims, and that is why they have to get rid of that work.

But he will never reveal it. At least not yet.

It only deals with possible situations.

Makes a call from his PDA. The other party came out with a ringing sound. Before they say something to him there, speak up.

“Akiyama, I got a job. Call the members of the 'Shoumutai'."

While saying that, Fushimi turned away from the wall and quickly headed to the end of the hall.

++++++++++

That day, Maki Arakawa (29) was visiting the Tsubakimon Dome hotel with her husband Takashi Arakawa (32) and their son Daichi Arakawa (0).

That day was Maki and Takashi's third wedding anniversary. The Dome Hotel was the place where Takashi proposed to Maki, and it was customary for the couple to visit this place on their anniversary every year.

With a new family member who is less than a year old, Maki and Takashi huddled together and wanted a night view from the living room. Takashi leans into the champagne and Maki leans into the non-alcoholic sparkling wine, looking at each other with a smile. In Maki's arms, Daichi, who had just fallen asleep, was giving a silent sigh.

A little compliment to a family that usually leads a modest life. Still, Maki was happy enough until the explosion happened.

The moment the explosion caught her, Maki was thrown to the ground with her husband.

When she woke up, her head was covered in black smoke.

"Daichi?"

The first thing that came to mind was the safety of her son. Looking down into her arms with a pale feeling, Daichi was still asleep. It was just a moment of relief, and he was soon filled with smoke-colored anxiety.

"What the hell?"

There was no way to answer that question. Her husband has wandered off a bit. He appears passed out, bleeding from his head. When she saw him, she was terrified that his heart would stop, but at least he seemed to be breathing.

Maki crawls closer to her husband, feeling pain glowing throughout her body. There seems to be a fire somewhere between the black smoke that comes in and the heat that burns the skin. That fact irritated Maki and made her reach out her hand.

"Get up."

The husband does not respond. Maki raised her face slightly and looked around her.

There is no one but them.

Is it after everyone has evacuated? Have they been left behind? Even if she gets lost, she does not know where to go and cannot leave her husband. It was decided that she cannot take him or her son on her own.

Fear and anxiety clench Maki's throat.

She takes the PDA out of her pocket and touches the emergency number. However, Maki herself wasn't sure how much it meant. The fear that surrounds her is getting stronger. Even if the rescue team is dispatched from now on, will they arrive in time?

"Yes, what happened?"

Communication has been opened. Maki squeezes the words out of her throat that moisten her body.

“Please help, please help. Please, please."

Unless this child is saved.

The moment he muttered a sentence-like word in a weak voice, a roar deafened Maki's ear.

A helicopter appeared outside the living room, behind a glass window.

A high-speed rotating rotor disperses a bombardment sound and the strong wind moves in the opposite direction. The helicopter tilted slightly and a sliding door pointed into the living room. Maki saw with wide eyes that a man with glasses was standing in the place that had already been opened.

It was not a rescue team. She knew it at a glance. After all, clothes are different. She had never heard of a rescue team dressed in such white, flowing clothing. It has beautiful bright colors and is like the clothes that idols wear.

The man with the glasses laughs smartly when he sees Maki. Then jump out the sliding door with a run.

"......"

Maki loses her words and watches over the elaborate suicide scene. From the PDA that fell to the ground, a Fire Service official said, "What happened? Please respond!" She heard a scream, but couldn't react. That was not the case.

The man crossed his arms, jumped high and rough, through the window, rolled across the living room floor, and landed brilliantly.

He balanced on his right foot, left knee, and right palm, and lifts his face to look at Maki.

Then he said with a smile.

"Hello."

"Ah, hello."

Barely responding, the man approached slowly, keeping low.

Behind him, there was a figure that jumped in the same way. He rolls on a glass covered floor, jumps and screams.

"Gak! The glass stabs me!"

“Domyoji-kun, continue with the preparations immediately. Be careful not to inhale smoke."

"Yes! President Munakata!"

When the man named Munakata approached Maki, he lifted his body, turned it forward, and began to wrap something.

"Oh, that...?"

“We will get away from this. Please hold your son firmly."

The soft voice in her ear soothed Maki's fear. She hugged her son tightly and, through her armpits, Munakata fixed a harness on Maki's body.

Munakata looks back and calls out to Domyoji, who is also wrapping the husband in a harness.

"Are you ready?"

"Well, somehow!"

Domyoji nods wrapping her weakly passed out husband around his body with a harness. When Munakata turned around, he turned his smart eyes towards Maki.

"Don't worry, I'll get you to safety immediately."

Somehow, however, she had an unpleasant sensation.

Maki looks out the window with her harness wrapped up. She sees the back of a helicopter that was going very far away. Maki asks, swallowing hard.

"Isn't that the one you ride?"

"Unfortunately, the emergency exit leading to the helipad is blocked by fire. Landing is difficult and jumping from here to the helicopter would not be possible with you in tow."

The question of what to do then did not need to be asked.

Munakata walks over to the broken window while tying Maki and Daichi to himself. The trampled piece of glass rings. A strong wind from the high sky blew and caressed Maki's cheeks forcefully.

The Tsubakimon Dome can be seen below. She wonders if he was doing some kind of live performance, and she could see the crowded seats even from such a high place.

Munakata looks at her calmly and has a soft voice.

"And we have less than five minutes to get started. This is the only way to get there on time."

She is not sure what you are talking about, but she understands what "this method" means. Maki looks towards Munakata with tears in her eyes.

"I'll ask you just in case, you've done it before, right?"

Munakata responds with a smile on his face.

"I read the manual."

Maki tried to resist, but her hands were empty and only scratched the air. Maki, who was shaking, saw that she could no longer understand the language, Munakata placed the sole of the shoe on the window frame.

Smooth to the end, Munakata says the last sentence.

"Ok, let's go."

"Hm..."

She can't say wait a minute.

Munakata was a man who executed words. A second after he said that, he had already jumped from a height of 100 meters above the ground with Maki and Daichi.

++++++++++

Basically the longer it takes to fall, the faster it will fall.

Its formula, commonly known as gravitational acceleration, is 9.8 m / s, and a rough calculation consumes a height of about 100 meters in less than 5 seconds. Knowing that, it's probably a bit more serious. She would have resisted.

Fortunately, the fear fainted her and it did not interfere with Munakata's work.

At the time of take-off, Munakata quickly opened the parachute. Munakata experienced a free fall for a time until the acceleration died due to air resistance.

At the sound of the wind, Munakata heard laughter.

Suddenly the baby was laughing in his arms. He wondered if he was enjoying the fall, and while hearing a laughing little voice, Munakata was laughing too.

"It's fun? It may be common for you."

The parent's "up and down" game and the current situation may not change much for this child. With that in mind, Munakata precisely operates the parachute.

Air resistance travels through the harness and squeezes Munakata's body. Munakata looked at the Tsubakimon Dome below, while reducing the burden on mother and child as much as possible. Already in his direction, the dome has been opened to reveal the stage.

"President, please respond. Let us know the current situation!"

Awashima's voice echoes from the device close to the ear. Munakata responds to that.

"This is Munakata. We are currently gliding about 70 meters from the earth's surface. We will proceed to land on stage."

In the center of the stage is a circle of bureaucracy, the end of today's sprint. There are 2 minutes and 47 seconds until the start. The image of landing, taking off the parachute, and entering the performance has already been created in Munakata's mind.

"No problem. Everything is fine. Awashima-kun, let's meet up on stage sleeve!"

At the image of Munakata, a sudden gust of wind disappeared.

"Yes!"

Before thinking of anything, Munakata had to devote all his energy to controlling his posture. The parachute, which was about to rotate like a cone, was operated with one hand like a hot kneading jumper, and in the worst case it prevented a free fall due to the disappearance of air resistance.

"President? What did you do?"

Awashima screamed at the anomaly.

"Well, it's not a big deal. I was exposed to the wind from the building and my posture was altered for a moment. The check was completed, but there is a problem."

"What kind of problem is it?"

“The current gust of wind has blown me off the field a lot. If nothing is done, we will land in the audience seats."

Awashima took a deep breath.

Due to the gust of wind, the chances of landing on stage were nil. A similar gust of wind might bring the whole picture back to the landing course, but it's like waiting for a miracle. It was the role of the believer, not the role of the idol, to hold onto heaven with prayer.

Munakata ponders as he spins in the air.

He cannot get off in the audience seats. No action can be taken that could compromise the safety of the public. Not only Munakata himself, but even the metal parachute hardware cannot be dropped on the heads of fans.

So there is only one way left.

"We will take a landing course outside of the dome. We won't be in time for the performance, but we can't help it."

Awashima squeezed out a rough voice.

"Come here."

Until now, Munakata has been racing to get to the performance on time and not disappoint the expectations of the fans. It is not unfortunate that the effort turns into a bubble.

However…

Munakata stroked the baby's hair, giggling happily at his mother's breast, with his fingertips.

"Don't be sorry. We are idols. Those who seek the best. But if that doesn't come true, we can choose the next best option."

"President..."

Awashima's voice has a bitter resignation.

But she was also an idol. Awashima starts working after dispelling it in an instant.

"I get it. Immediately, personnel will be sent to the outside of the cupola, and the president, the mother and the child will be immediately collected. Even if the delay is unavoidable, it should be as short as possible."

"Yes. Thank you."

A sudden voice interrupted Munakata who was about to approve the decision.

"It's not like that."

Munakata slightly opened his eyes.

He can't be wrong, it was the voice of Fushimi Saruhiko, the center of "Shoumutai".

"What are you doing?"

"Please be quiet, Assistant Principal. President, there is no need to change course. 2 minutes to start. If so, it is time to do so."

"What?"

"Akiyama, do it."

With Fushimi's command as the trigger, a sight of pure white spread under his eyes.

It was a huge cloth that completely covered the audience seats at the Tsubakimon Dome. The pure white fabric that glows under the light has a blue dyed stamp in the center. That's the emblem of “Promotion Scepter 4”, the flag of the idol that they should be proud of.

"Now you don't have to worry about landing in the audience. Please come down quickly. The stage is set!"

Watch the scene and listen to the words.

A powerful smile appeared on Munakata's mouth.

"I get it."

Then she slowly descends towards the emblem of his proud "Promotion Scepter 4".

++++++++++

"Huh... someone..."

In a park located outside the Tsubakimon Dome, Domyoji Andy was trapped in a tree and called for help with a weak voice.

The rescued person, tied in front, fainted slightly. After all, he never woke up during the drop or after the landing. He doesn't think there is any difference in life, but he wants to be rescued as soon as possible and taken to the hospital. It's about time Domyoji's shoulders scream from their weight.

"Oh, Domyoji-san! You were in a place like this!"

At that moment, a light illuminated Domyoji's face with a voice of salvation.

They were the staff of "Scepter 4." It looks like he was holding a ladder and looking around the dome. Domyoji mutters through tears when he sees them preparing for rescue.

"Hail me..."

Domyoji, who was saved several tens of seconds later, asked the staff with a deep sigh.

“No, what happened to the president? Did he do it on time?"

"Yes! It seems that with Fushimi-san's ingenuity, he was able to make it in time for the performance! It seems that he is performing well as of now!"

The staff deftly pulled out the PDA which projected a live image.

6:23 pm. The stage lights go out and the noise from the audience seats quickly subsides. For example, fans' expectations, enthusiasm and excitement increase.

The silence of passion, as if you could see it.

A suddenly glowing spotlight pierced the darkness.

In the center of the stage was a man crouched with one knee raised. He is dressed in a beautifully decorated suit and holds a microphone in his slim hands. There is not a single mistake or a single wrinkle in his clothes. The ideal idol is that person, the Idol King who was there.

Those in the audience, behind the television who are watching him, probably don't know how he got to that stage. Munakata must say that it is also the idol's responsibility not to report it.

As soon as the song started, Munakata looked up. A confident smile. An act that can be said to be solemn. Take a fixed turn and start singing.

Domyoji laughed impressively as he watched the fans' enthusiasm explode.

"I'm glad. He is on time."

"Yeah, I'm glad."

The staff laughs too. Only they know how many difficulties Munakata had to go through to be in that place. These difficulties have finally been overcome and the goal has come true.

"Well then, I'm ready too."

Domyoji says that, shaking his head. He also has a major role in the "Extreme solo part, Idol from Above 6500~". For that, he has to go back to heaven.

The staff stopped Domyoji's back.

"Domyoji-san, it's very difficult to tell... but Domyoji-san's part is gone."

"Eh?"

The staff scratched their heads at Domyoji, where their eyes became a point.

“It seems that it is impossible to take off on time because the helicopter has run out of fuel on the previous flight. Therefore, we will reproduce the PV of the album released next week as a replacement for the emergency. That was decided."

Domyoji froze and said...

"What is that? Has all my special training so far been for naught?"

Look at the facial expressions of the staff, quietly but surely.

"What is that? Aaaaaaaaaah!"

Domyoji's scream echoed around the outer edge of the dome.

[liemonyellow]

is this a test?

read on ao3

Summary: Janus has gotten over the heartbreak of losing the first Creativity. But now his heart has a new problem: the twins.

Warnings: Mild language

"Refill?" Roman asked, holding up the pot of fresh coffee, lights dancing in his emerald eyes.

Janus nodded once and pushed his almost-empty mug towards the prince, expecting him to pour directly into it. Instead, Roman reached down and took it, his fingertips brushing against the fabric of Janus's gloves, leaving just a trace of lingering warmth. Janus froze at the contact.

Roman gave him a soft smile as he tipped the carafe into the black and gold ceramic - a gift from Roman himself that Janus used as much as he wore his hat.

The hat he gave Janus.

"Here."

Janus blinked as the mug slid back into his hands, his eyes captured by the motion of Roman's finger as it trailed down the handle, caressing the golden snake that formed it, and pulled back as he turned around.

The prince was so much like him. Janus saw it in the way Roman's eyes sparkled when he smiled, the way his lips quirked up in a smirk, the way his laugh could fill an empty room and make Janus feel so warm just from hearing it.

Janus watched Roman as the latter prepared his own coffee, mug squeezed tight in his hands as he tried not to think about just how warm the other side's fingers had felt against his, even through the gloves. Would they run as hot against his heat-leeching scales as his did? As hot as the scorching flame of his brother's broad chest across Janus's back as he draped himself over the smaller side's shoulders, whining for attention?

Janus forced himself not to melt into the warmth, holding himself as rigidly as he could, closing his eyes and letting out his breath as evenly as he could, in the vain hope that it would sound like an exasperated sigh and not a contented one. His mug of fresh, untouched coffee felt like a burnt-out match compared to the bonfire just behind him, and the snake within him wanted nothing more than to wrap itself around Remus and bask.

He opened his eyes to see Roman's glaring green eyes, still so lovely despite the sudden change. Janus's heart almost stopped, wondering what he'd done wrong, until he realized it was directed at Remus.

Remus was grinning smugly when Janus finally turned to look at him. That never boded well. Despite his intense desire to watch the brothers duke it out in a supposedly healthy manner, Janus refused to become a victim in another of their admittedly entertaining prank wars.

"And what are you smiling about, you cretin?" Janus asked archly, hoping the fondness in his voice remained undetectable.

Remus's eyes narrowed and his grin widened, but neither he nor Roman seemed to acknowledge him. Janus could feel Remus tightening his hold, embracing him around the shoulders and squeezing. The deceitful side could barely hold back the high-pitched whimper from escaping his throat. He was absolutely certain both of the twins could hear it, but if they did, they gave no indication.

Roman's brow furrowed as his glaring contest with Remus continued. Remus shifted closer and closer to Janus, entrapping him even more in his arms, until they were practically cheek to cheek. Between Roman's deepening glower and Remus's closeness, Janus could feel his heart skipping beats for entirely too many reasons.

Then Remus licked him, tongue wet and blisteringly hot against Janus's scales.

Janus yelped and leapt up, slapping a hand to the cheek where Remus had licked him and shoving Remus off and away in startled panic, the other half of his face turning scarlet.

Remus landed on his ass, cackling at Janus's reaction and Roman's scandalized face. He spun around and rolled over into his stomach, nestling his chin between his palms, waggling his eyebrows and grinning suggestively, legs kicking in the air.

Janus was struck by a memory of him doing something similar, oh, so very long ago. The ache in his heart grew, twisting the scars he'd covered up and hidden away, trying to claw them open.

"You-!" Roman shrieked, pointing angrily at his brother. "That was out of bounds!"

"Just 'cause you don't have the guts to do it doesn't mean it's against the rules!" Remus shot back.

The pounding of Janus's heart in his ears drowned out whatever else they were saying, just as the tears in his eyes warped his vision, blurring black and white and red and green and he couldn't-

he couldn't-

He couldn't.

Janus's abrupt departure was what stopped their bickering.

The twins stared at the empty space where he'd disappeared, then at one another, mirroring each other's surprised confusion.

Roman's brow creased in worry. "Did we…?" He asked as Remus stood up.

Remus shrugged helplessly. "He was super into it a minute ago. Didn’t you hear him whining like he was getting-”

“Remus!”

“-and you should have seen the way he was staring at you! It was like he thought you were the only thing that existed."

"And you just had to butt in, didn't you?"

"Yeah! So that you weren't hogging all of his attention!"

"Maybe if you stopped invading his personal space, he'd like you more!"

"He already likes me more than he likes you! At least I hung out with him after the split!"

Roman's eyes widened, his clenched jaw fell open and Remus's hunched and aggressive posture straightened as they both realized what had upset Janus.

"Fuck."

Janus curled up into a ball in his bed, trying not to let his sobs escape.

He missed him. He missed him so much.

But it wasn’t just that, was it? As much as Janus had loved and missed him, the twins were worse. He’d grieved, and he’d moved on. But then the twins had come and so utterly charmed him, in their own ways, and he’d fallen all over again, like the idiot he was. So like him, and yet so different. And so Janus yearned. For Roman. For Remus.

This was all his own fault. Why did he have to go and fall in love? Once had been enough, but thrice?

It wasn’t fair. They didn’t know, did they? Were they trying to torture him? Were they mocking him? He’d been so careful not to let it show, but could anyone blame him, when Roman looked at him with eyes so soft he felt like he was floating? When Remus held him so close, so casually, and oh so gently? Did they see his longing, did they laugh at it, decide to toy with his emotions for their own amusement? Did they know he would play along regardless of their intentions, so desperate was he for mere scraps of their attention, let alone their affection?

Janus did not let out a sob into his pillow. He didn’t feel the tears dampen the fabric against his eyes, or shudder with the force of his cries, or clench his entire body into a ball so tight he knew he would be sore later. And he didn’t freeze in place when he heard a loud, decisive knock on his door.

“Janus?”

Roman.

Janus did not move.

“Jan! We know you’re in there!”

“A little gentler, maybe?”

“Okay, fine, geez.”

“Janus? Please answer us. We’re worried.”

Was it the truth? Or just a sweet lie to bait him back? Janus couldn’t tell in his overly emotional state.

“I can lick you again if you want!”

“Remus!”

“... I’m sorry for licking you.”

“We’re both sorry. For making you uncomfortable, I mean.”

Janus hiccupped.

“Janus,” Roman said. “We’re coming in. If you really don’t want us to, just let us know, okay?”

The door creaked open, a stream of light cutting through the darkness of the room. Janus tucked himself deeper into his sheets, saying nothing.

Footsteps. The rustling of cloth. The shift in weight as someone sat on the bed. A spot of warmth from behind him, hovering over his shoulder, close enough to touch.

“Is it okay if I touch you, Janus?”

Janus did not answer, but did not reject the warming touch, diffused as it was through the blanket. He felt the bed sink a little more, presumably due to Remus joining his brother. They stayed like that, in the dark and quiet, Roman softly caressing Janus’s shoulder.

It was Remus who broke the silence.

“Janus? Do you not like us?”

I like you too much.

“I’m really sorry I licked you. I won’t do it again.”

It’s fine.

...

It was a little weird, though.

“Unless you want me to.”

Roman stopped massaging Janus’s shoulder and sighed heavily. “Remus.”

“Sorry! It’s just- We both like you, okay? Like, like-like you. A lot.”

…

What?

“What my brother is trying to say is that we made a dumb mistake. Instead of talking to you about our feelings, we just used you for a stupid competition. We made it about ourselves, and didn’t even stop to consider your comfort.”

“... Competition?”

Janus had somehow loosened his hold on his legs. His muscles were so much more relaxed, all from Roman’s comforting touch and the radiating warmth of the twins’ presence in his room.

“Roman and I were wondering which one of us could make you blush more. Then we kinda upped the ante to see who could get you to confess first.”

“Which was arguably the worst choice we could have made at that point, seeing as you’ve been pining since before we split.”

“... what?” Janus pulled his quilt halfway down to look at them, each half-silhouetted and half-illuminated by the stark hallway light. He was barely able to see them, blinded as he was from the darkness of his eyes shut tight under the covers, but they seemed to be looking in his general direction. Roman’s hand rested in the space between the darkness and the light, between him and them.

“Well, we don’t remember a whole lot from before, but we remember you, Double Dee. And how much we liked you. Which was a whole fucking lot.”

“And still is. Well, after we got to know you better. As us, and not, you know, him.”

Janus blinked slowly. What was he hearing? Had he fallen asleep? Was this just a cruel trick his mind was playing on him, telling him what he wanted most to hear? Eyes now adjusted to the dimness, he could see the soft, sorrow-filled look in the prince’s eyes and the downturn of his parted lips. Remus had turned away, sniffling and wiping his own tears on his sleeve.

Roman reached up and held Janus’s cheek, wiping away the tears streaming from his eyes, his hand so hot against his scales he wondered vaguely why the tears hadn’t steamed away. Janus shut his eyes against the blissful heat.

This was real. It had to be. His dreams could never quite replicate the sheer warmth and vitality the twins exuded.

“He loved you. And we know you loved him. But we understand if you don’t feel that way about us.”

“We’ll leave you alone now, Jay. Sorry.”

Roman smiled, bittersweet, and pulled back slowly, turning away.

No.

No.

“No!” Quick as a striking viper, Janus seized Roman’s sleeve and Remus’s sash. They turned around, surprise apparent on their faces.

He wasn’t sure how he looked in their eyes, pitiful and tear-stained and stricken with loss, but the twins immediately pulled him into an embrace.

They held him, tightly, their bodies burning against his skin, hands rubbing soothingly against his back as he cried.

“I-!” He had to tell them. They had to know. Why wouldn’t the words come out?

Roman shushed him. “You don’t have to say anything, bumblebee.”

“No! I-!” Janus gasped desperately.

Remus nuzzled into his neck. “We get it, Janny Deceito.”

“I- I love you! Both of you! So much!” Finally. Finally.

Roman and Remus squeezed him tighter.

“We love you, too.”

And just like that, the burning, blistering heat of them suffused into Janus, warming him from the inside out as he sobbed joyfully in their arms.

---------

i guess i have a taglist now lol: @nadiestar

[toloveawarlord]

A Rambling about Obey Me and some of the discourse going around:

I’ve finally had a chance to sit down and think hard on the whole Lucifer didn’t listen to the MC say no in the newest event.

First of all, this post likely won’t be spoiler free so read at your own risk. I’m not going to censor myself for those who haven’t played up through Lesson 20 but most of the things I hit on is common knowledge anyways. 

Secondly, I do not condone what they implied that Lucifer did. Consent is important, that’s not the point of this post. I’m not saying it’s okay to do so. This is simply the context of the game and my own viewing of it from a writer’s standpoint.

I put it under a cut because this is a long post.

Okay, now that we have all the disclaimers and stuff out of the way, let’s move into my own thoughts.

Firstly, this was meant to be dream sequence. I know a lot of people gripe about it doesn’t matter that it was dream, but if it’s supposed to be mc’s dream, then likely this particular mc was probably meant to be paired with Lucifer, they just gave options for those who aren’t Luci stans to get more people to play. But was a dream, and likely meant to represent an mc that wants Lucifer.

Was it a good writing choice to add in a choice to say and then do it anyways? Probably not, because this kind of thing always gets backlash from the community (i.e. Arthur in Ikevamp). But they did it, and it wasn’t explicit, nor did it actually say that Lucifer actually went through with it, again, because it was a dream and it ended at that particular point. You can argue that it shouldn’t have been implied, but you can also argue that it didn’t happen because it was simply an implication. The point that is made though, is that Lucifer didn’t respond in a “Okay, I’ll stop” manner. As far as him being a character and a demon, that response would be really strange, to me. Is it right? No, no one should force themselves on anyone. Is it a normal response for a demon who is the avatar of pride and thinks humans are lowly creatures? Yeah, kind of.

Secondly, this game is dark as hell. A lot of people don’t want to see it that way, because it’s an otome game and otome’s are typically solely focused on the romance aspect. Obey Me is riddled with violence, sexual tones (i.e. Asmo outright tells MC that the bar they are at is has sex rooms and can even be bought out for an orgy, and he has participated in those), and the main boys are even avatars of sin. It’s not an otome with a sprinkle of angst and sadness for backstory and character development. It’s a dark and twisted world where you can romance demons.

Speaking of demons, that’s my next point. The boys are demons. They have been around for millenniums, and demons are not known to have morals and live by our human standards of what is right and wrong. (again, see above, I don’t believe what Luci was implied to do was right.) But honestly, you cannot expect demons to have the same moral code that us humans do. It wouldn’t make sense and to be honest, it’s part of the appeal of the game.

Part of the underlying themes and tones of this game is that romancing a demon is taboo. It’s not going to entail the same trials and character problems that other otome suitors deal with. These aren’t boys. These are demons, powerful demons with their owns sins and they also believe that they are above humans. So, being above humans, of course Lucifer doesn’t really care if you say or not. He’s a demon and he is used to getting his way. He’s also the avatar of pride so he can’t fathom why you wouldn’t choose to be with him. (Again. I do not think it’s right for Lucifer to force himself on anyone.) From a writing standpoint, that was a perfectly acceptable thing for Lucifer to say, because of who he is as a character and a species. (But that doesn’t make it okay. I never said it was okay. I said it was normal for him as a character. I do not condone forcing anyone.)

Was it necessary for the story? That’s a little more difficult to define. I understand that this can be triggering material for some, and you are perfectly valid to say you didn’t like it and it was wrong. I don’t personally think that they made a huge mistake and should be reprimanded for it. It’s a story with dark themes and violence so it’s reasonable to assume that things like this are going to occur. They are demons with a very skewed sense of morals. But I totally get that there are people out there who don’t like reading that kind of triggering content.

I think a good middle ground would be to add some kind of warning to events or chapters. I don’t know how they would implement something like that, but it might be a more peaceful solution instead of going to the creators and telling them that they are wrong to add that content. Because, let’s be honest, not everyone is bothered by that kind of thing and creators can’t always cater to everything that might be a trigger to someone. For some, that kind of content is wanted and there aren’t any otomes that I’m aware of that has the option to explore those darker kinks. (Please don’t bring up Princess of the Moon Ultimate. That game is not what I mean.)

Obey Me really teeters on the edge of being too adult for minors, but there is plenty of content in the games that are okay for a younger audience. No matter what anyone says, the younger kids are not going to stop playing just because a stranger on the internet told them to. It’s not going to happen, so really, it’s only stirring up drama. I will say that minors should stay away from explicitly adult content created by us adults, mostly because of legal reasons, but again, I don’t think it’s going to stop anyone from doing it if they want to. Just know, that as adults, it’s really uncomfortable to think of minors engaging in explicit content. You are still children, whether you think so or not, but you’re going to play the game regardless (I know because back in my day, I did too). I think the middle ground for this is for minors not to engage with adults in any explicit or sexual themed content or talk. That’s about the most we can ask. Telling them not to play the game isn’t solving anything. (Please don’t come at me with this drama. I don’t want to hear about why they shouldn’t play or why they should be allowed, I don’t care about it.)

This kind of rounds me up to a big final point. I got off track with the content thing but back to the demons and their morals.

This why Obey Me is such an interesting story to me. The point of the whole game (so far) is that YOU are the one controlling the demons with the pacts. It takes a while for Lucifer and Belphie, but in the end, you get a pact with all of them. This really eliminates a lot of the dangers with the brothers. They obey you now. So, in the main story game (after lesson 20), if that Lucifer scene had happened (remember, it’s a dream), if you had chosen the NO option, then he would have no choice but to listen to you. Because the pact allows you to control them (we see this time and time again with MC telling Mammon to do things or stop doing things).

Which opens up the opportunity for you as the mc to teach them. I know this isn’t a prominent part of the game (it’s still real early to tell what’s going to happen) but now that you have them under a pact, you have the opportunity to reign in their sins and teach them to be decent demons. And honestly, it’s really one of the only ways that they could have handled the demons and a human in a romantic relationship. There is no such thing as a morally righteous demon. That would be angels (hello simeon). It’s going to be very interesting to see how having a specific suitor under a pact will effectively even the playing fields in a romantic relationship.

Take Asmo for example, as the Avatar of Lust. Before the pact, the scales of power were completely in Asmo’s hands. As a human, you literally couldn’t do anything to stop him from doing anything (hence the fact that Belphie literally kills mc, and there has been very dangerous situations). He’s a demon with enormous powers and the mc is a lowly human. And honestly, with Asmo being a narcissist, he probably wouldn’t understand why you wouldn’t want him. He’s Asmodeus. He’s wanted by everyone.

BUT

With the power of the pact, the scales of power in the relationship tip into the MC’s favor. Will this stop them from trying? Not at all, but now MC has the power to make them stop. And that’s really the only way that a relationship could happen. The power difference is simply too great for a human to date a demon without that added layer of control in MC’s hands.

I know that this is an otome game, and it’s supposed to be about romancing them and all that, but the story is riddled with dark tones and themes and it will most likely have more triggering material. I think that’s something that everyone is going to have to accept in this game. It’s not a lighthearted romance with angst and sex. It’s definitely not as dark as like Diabolik Lovers, but like vampires, demons have a whole added layer of twisted and taboo subjects that are going to play a large role in the game.

And I think that’s part of the point. This game is not going to be like Cybird’s games. It’s not going to be like MLQC. Personally, I like the idea of a darker game with wiggle for more adult oriented themes and content that we miss out on in the other games (i.e. I would have loved to seen a part of Edgar’s route where Claudius orders him to kill MC and he struggles with doing it or not and maybe even harming her in the process of figuring it out. Because, Edgar is kind of brainwashed by Claudius and it tracks for his character. But its romance otome, so of course, they weren’t going to take it that far.). Exploring the darker sides of romance, allowing for more raw and twisted concepts.

All in all, if you want a happy go lucky, suitors with cute romance and just a bit of angst and sex, this is not the game for you.

I also don’t think that going after the creators and saying that they shouldn’t put out darker content and having Lucifer do what he did in that event was right. This game is going to have uncomfortable topics and ugly moments. They are demons and this is devildom (see also: hell). Warnings would be great, I think finding a balance is good, but the creators are making this content for a broad audience. Not everyone is going to be happy. You can either take it with a grain of salt, and continue playing. Or you can not play it because you don’t like some of the content. The content creators don’t owe us anything. The whole “well this is for a western audience” is mute. There is likely going to be other triggering content because of the nature of the game. You can’t expect a dark otome to not have that, just because it triggers you. Warnings, yes, I think that that would help, let people know what they might be getting into in an event or chapter, but catering to the needs to every single player of a game is not going to happen, and it could cause the game to be shut down. This game is more adult oriented so it’s going to have more adult content that might not sit right with you.

I’m gonna end this by saying: Obey Me is an amazing game, and it has quite dark content in places. That’s the whole point of the game. It’s not a standard romance otome and trying to change it to be one is not okay. That doesn’t mean that your feelings toward it aren’t valid. It simply means that we cannot expect the same content as other otome games when it involves darker content. I don’t really want a watered down version of this game where they ignore the dangers of demons for the sake of romance.

I am gonna repeat a few things: I do not condone Lucifer’s actions, that’s not what I’m about. No one should force themselves on you. And this is filled with my opinions, yours can differ, but I’m not looking for anyone to come tell me why I’m wrong. This is just a few points of why I personally think that the game is doing just fine and doesn’t need to change.

[whitelotus-ffxiv]

helpless.

I should have known better. I should have glanced at her on the beach, in the glow of a nigh-full moon as the chronometer struck twelve, and I should have walked away. 

My life is full of ‘should have done, but didn’t do,’ though, it feels like. 

She stood on the rocks overlooking the sea, her hair the longest and the darkest that I had ever seen it without a wig. Her thin kimono jacket hung to her knees, but she had slid it off around her shoulders, perhaps in an attempt to beat the stifling heat Haishan was so famous for in the summers, even by the sea. 

It was hard to make her face out in the dark, but there was something that struck me most. It wasn’t the way she stood with her head held high, or the way her long hair rippled in the moonlight and danced softly in the breeze. It wasn’t even the way her scales glimmered like she was painted with pearls in the moonlight. No... It was that, with her back exposed from the kimono hanging off her shoulders, that there were no scars to be seen... save for but one. 

One, in the shape of a bite rather than of whipping scars. 

“Xiu,” I call, even though I know she already knew I was there. Her head turns just slightly towards me, over her slender and scarred shoulder,. Even in the dark, her eyes are bright and sharp, honing in on my face in the matter of a mere half a second. 

“Why are you here?” she asks me, her voice soft as the waves lap at the rocks she was standing on top of.

“It got around to me that you’d be visiting for a while,” I tell her as I come closer, wondering if she’d pull a weapon or allow me to approach. “I figured I would come say hello while I have downtime.” 

It was always hard to tell, with Xiu, just what her mood was. 

“It seems as though you have nothing but downtime,” she accuses, softly, and I find myself smiling at her tone as she looks away from me and back to the sea.

The breeze wafts the scent of something delicate and floral that I can’t quite place off of Xiu’s skin and her long hair. Admittedly, it’s odd to see her as... her. Most often, I’ve seen her disguised, or at least dressed to work - all in black, with a sword strapped to her hip. To see her vulnerable is different, though. Her eyes - the same hue as the ocean, I know - are distant, fixed on somewhere far away that I can’t see, across the sea. 

“I hear that your newest posting is... interesting,” I say, as casually as possible, sitting on the rocky ledge leading down into the sand as I watch Xiu’s side profile. 

My words make her turn her head towards me again, her face as impassive and as unreadable as ever. Really, I had only gathered bits and pieces about what her latest job was - that she was stationed in a palace rumored to be haunted and dangerous, with waters full of vicious creatures that looked like they were half people and half fish. Tales of sirens, of mermaid flesh granting immortality, of crooning song that could cause fishermen to crash their ships...

It all sounded like fairytale nonsense to me. Even still, knowing - or overhearing - some of the things Xiu has experienced with the spirit world...

Well. If anyone was going to be thrust into the supernatural, I don’t find it surprising that it would be her. Regardless, the way she looks at me makes me feel a sense of unease, because she doesn’t stop looking. Usually, Xiu spares me a glance of exasperation or one that I can’t read, and she looks away again, to something she finds more infinitely more interesting than me.

Not this time. 

“My newest posting is none of your concern, Takahashi. It would eat you alive.”

Her voice is soft, still, but the way she says it sends something like a chill up my spine. Maybe it’s the way her eyes flash in the moonlight, or maybe it’s the way the wind rustles through the palm leaves overhead. 

“Literally?” I try to joke, and Xiu turns away, walking further down the beach.

I know better. I should have learned by now than to scramble to my feet and trail after her, taking my expensive leather shoes off in the process, but... whether I know better or not, I still do it. 

Her footprints in the sand are little. It makes me smile, to know that even someone like her can leave an imprint on something soft enough. And I know. I know, that it shouldn’t make me smile. Xiu and I had never been more than... necessary comrades. Unfortunate circumstance had required us to work together, and it was me who kept up contact after the fact, who went out drinking with her brother to her displeasure, who had to be dragged home by the scruff of my neck along with Hui when the sake was too much. 

The days, lately, had been so long. There was so much to expect. The return of Misaki’s cousin to Hingashi, along with the bounty of Garlean refugees... Xiu had told me to stay away from Misaki’s cousin - Hana’s sister. And she was right. 

Xiu was right about a lot of things. 

But I wanted to meet her, this girl named Audrey, once called Yuna, younger sister to my Hana. I wanted to know her. I wanted to see if she had Misaki’s eyes, or Hana’s smile, and... I wanted to be around Xiu, too. I had always been drawn to her. 

We understand each other, I feel like. And late at night, when I can’t sleep, when most people would assume that it’s Misaki that I think about... It isn’t. 

I think of Xiu granting me a rare smile before laughing at how red my face was from too much drink, her eyes glittering with amusement underneath a lamppost in Kugane. She’d worn a blue yukata, then, the same color as her eyes. Late night cherry blossom petals had fallen in her hair. 

That moment was burned into my memory, like a brand. I missed that night. I missed it desperately, in my most lonesome moments. 

“Why are you following me?” Xiu asks me, now, and she stops in the sand to look at me with a frown on her lips. She wasn’t one to really wear many personal touches, but now I see that she has a jade bracelet around her slender wrist, one that she adjusts as she pauses. 

“It’s... It’s just been a long time,” I attempt, and she frowns at me, because I’m bad at lying when it comes to Tsai Xiu. Her jacket flutters in the balmy breeze, drawing a strand of black hair across her soft lips. “We’re old friends, Xiu. Is it bad that I want to spend time with you? We haven’t done that in a while.” 

“You get drunk every time.” Dark eyebrows raise, and she turns to face me properly. “And I never said that I wanted to spend time with you. I would have come and gotten you if I did. I’m walking on the beach alone. Don’t you think that might mean that I want to be alone?” 

“I’ve missed you,” I say, too quickly, and I watch her eyes change. I watch her lips press into a thin line, as she glances up at the sky covered in scars, before slowly looking back to my face.

“Mori, no,” she says, quietly. “We’re not doing this. You’re not going to turn me into one of them.” 

“One of who?”

“One of the women that you miss,” she replies. Her voice never raises above much more than a whisper. “You won’t turn me into a Misaki, or a Hana, and kami help me, if you try to turn Hana’s sister into one--”

“But you’re already someone that I miss,” I insist. “Because... we’re friends, Xiu. It isn’t like that. It’s different. You... get me, you--”

“No,” she insists, meeting my eyes, this time. “I don’t get you. Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you, because you would take it the wrong way. You’re a mess, Takahashi. And you find women and you latch onto them because you think we can fix you. But we can’t. That’s not our job. It chased Misaki into a pack of Garleans, and it got Hana killed,” she adds, refusing to look away from me as she delivers the vicious blows. “And you know what? I’m scared of what will happen to Hana’s sister if you see even a glimmer of resemblance in her to either one of those girls. Don’t go near her. Do you understand me? You don’t go anywhere near that woman. Don’t ruin another one.” 

I really can’t remember the last time I’ve heard her say so much at once. Xiu is subtle. She doesn’t say things directly, but maybe she’s... tired. Maybe she’s tired of my mistakes. I wouldn’t blame her if she was. And I hear her. I know what she’s saying is true, but... it doesn’t stop them from hurting. 

“I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about us, Xiu--”

“There is no us.”

This time, her voice is sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The breeze blows her hair around her shoulders, softly, faintly, a frown on her lips as she looks at me. Her scales glitter. I know they must be smooth, and that her skin must be soft, even if her hands are calloused from swordplay. 

“Don’t ruin Audrey... and don’t try to make me into someone you can ruin, too. That doesn’t exist for us,” Xiu says, gesturing from me to her. “I’m not for you. And I can see in your eyes that you have a lot you want to admit to me, so let me spare you the trouble: if you have a confession of love you want to hand to me, don’t. I don’t want it. I don’t want to know.” 

It feels like I might sink into the sand. I almost would have preferred if she had bodied me and punched me in the face for trailing after onto the beach to begin with. Part of me feels certain that she knows why I had done it to begin with. She can read people. She can see right through them.

Had I been that obvious?

“You’re lonely, and it isn’t my problem, Mori.” 

For a long moment, we stare at each other. The world around us is silent except for the sound of the sea coming in against the shore. In the distance, I can see the towering forest that she and Hui spent a brief part of their childhood in. Xiu’s hands are sunk into the pockets of her jacket as she watches me. 

I’m lonely, and it isn’t her problem. She’s right.

“Just one night,” I say, after that stretch of silence, my own voice soft. I reach out for her, and she takes a step back, her expression changing quickly.

From tired to angry. 

“My nights belong to someone else, but more importantly, they belong to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare ever touch me.” “Someone else? Kage? Don’t tell me--”

“No. Someone who could do a lot worse to you than Kage, so keep your godsdamned hands to yourself... and go home. Soak your head. I don’t want to talk to you right now.” 

Xiu shakes her head, and she turns away from me. I feel like there was something important I was supposed to tell her, before my daydreams of a night with her beneath me caught up to me as soon as I saw her on the beach. There was a real message I was supposed to deliver, but... I’d already started drinking. My mind was already hazy. And she had wasted no time in shutting me down.

It only made me want her more. Someone who could do worse to me than Kage, though...

Hells.

She couldn’t be wrapped up with a siren, could she? No. That couldn’t be it. 

Right?

[colonel-insomniac]

The Thief's Prince (part two

A/N- ok guys part two is here and part three will be up at most by next weekend though I'll try and get it up before then. Read all my other one shots on AO3 here

“I am so dead.” Are the only words that managed to exit the boy sitting naked in the tub.

“Uhm, I’m sorry but you just came out of a locket and I’m naked. So, uhm, who are you exactly?” Bobby asks, trying to stay calm, thankful for the bubbles covering his less appropriate areas.

“Ah, excuse me, Mr Porter. I am Sheldon Copepod, and I am the powerful being that haunts this locket. I am a genie and I am here to grant you three wishes of whatever you may desire, whenever you desire.” Bobby has to think about this one.

“Wait. I’m getting major vibes that you’re the type of genie that takes everything literally. And doesn’t copepod mean shrimp?” The genie looked a little bothered, at Bobby’s questions, but answered them regardless.

“Yes, and yes. If you absolutely have to know, the last genie of this lamp had a curse put upon him, and I was foolish enough to trade spots with him, and then the curse moved to me.” Bobby hates the feeling of being enclosed in a space, and so naturally he feels bad for Sheldon.

“How long have you been stuck in there?” Maybe he’s being too forward, but he really feels bad.

“Two decades.” Twenty years? That’s only one year older than Bobby, meaning that Sheldon has been stuck there for the entire duration of Bobby’s life.

“So I get three wishes?” He’s already thinking of what he might want, but he also knows that if he were the one trapped in there, he’d want his freedom. He’s gonna free Sheldon. But he isn’t going to tell him that just yet, just in case he tries to pull something.

“I believe that is what I said, yes. Now, do you wanna make your first wish or not? I’m a very busy genie.” Bobby contemplates asking exactly how someone trapped in a locket could have so many things to do, but he thinks better of it; pissing off something more powerful than you probably isn’t the best idea.

“I’m not exactly sure what I should wish for.” Sheldon sighs, and Bobby swears he hears him mutter “how did I get stuck with such a stupid kid?” which makes bothers Bobby a little. He is not a kid anymore, he’s a criminal. And criminals are too weathered to be considered kids, regardless of age.

    “Kid, I can do just about anything you want me to do.” Sheldon is quick to add on when he sees Bobby’s eyes widen with all the possibilities. “Within limits, of course. I can not and will not kill anyone, bring anyone back from the dead, or make anyone fall in love with you. That last one would just be cruel.” Bobby’s cheeks flush at the last part, instantly thinking of the prince, even though that’s just stupid.

    Everyone knows the prince would never love a criminal, it’s just plain strange. And yet, Bobby still can’t help but fantasize, even if it would never work out. He’s going to get hanged for his crimes if anyone figures out his true identity, and even though prince Patrick knows, Bobby figures he’s probably the safest one to have found out. Childhood friends, and all.

“Okay, well I don’t need anything now, and it seems wasteful to use a wish on something when I could be in danger later, so I don’t have a wish right now.” The glare sent his way by the being makes him add a ‘sorry.’ He’s really not trying to be cursed tonight.

The genie disappears back into the locket, accidentally knocking something over. It clatters on the floor, and Bobby cringes each time it makes contact with the floor. Bobby next hears footsteps rushing towards the door, and three and a half knocks. “Are you alright?” The prince asks, his voice slightly muffled by the door.

Bobby nods, head still whirling from everything going on, and it takes him a moment to realize Patrick can’t actually see him. “Uh, yeah! Just knocked something over accidentally.”

He decides he’s probably been in there long enough, so he drains the water out of the tub and dries himself off and redresses in his dirt-stained clothes. When Bobby exits the bathroom, he sort of just stands awkardly in the room, freezing but not wanting to say anything. He’s taken enough, he thinks. A locket, a bunch of semi-valuable to valuable items, he literally robbed Patrick the second he turned away and was able to. Bobby’s such a bad person.

His stomach feels as though it’s in knots, and he’s kinda concerned he’s gonna throw up, but then Patrick looks over, and leaps out of his bed excitedly, a gleeful look in his eye. “Yay, you’re back—wait, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick. Come, lie down on my bed?” He asks, pushing the shorter boy towards the bed, a hand on Bobby’s back, and it burns Bobby through his shirt; it makes him feel even worse.

So he walks. Not because he thinks he should lie down, but because it’s the only way he can stop himself from either freezing up completely, or bolting out the door, away from here, from this kingdom. Maybe he ought to do that anyways. Rid the kingdom of the petty thief known as Acro.

Bobby’s mom used to tell him that he was born with an extra sensitive heart; she told him that the emotions people felt, he felt on a deeper level. But for a majority of his life, he’d only felt happiness. He felt that glittering emotion, sparkling like a diamond submerged in a lake in the afternoon. And this feeling of overwhelming guilt is choking him from inside his body. He’s repelled by it, and even though he just bathed, he feels dirtier than he did before.

The bed is indescribably soft, and the pillows even softer, and Bobby knows if it weren’t for his current predicament, he’d be out cold in a matter of minutes. He’d give anything to fall into that peaceful oblivion right now. “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asks. “I’m a thief, and I’ve deceived so many people.” Patrick sighs, but his back is towards Bobby, so he can’t see the prince’s expression.

“Doing whatever you must to keep you and your loved one’s alive is hardly a crime. In my mind, it cancels out the crime.” Bobby turns around, cheek pressed to the pillow, and closes his eyes. That statement won’t hold when Patrick finds out they were robbed. He’s going to instantly know it was Bobby, and then probably have the king sentence him to life in the dark dungeon.

He mutters something along these lines, and Patrick whirls around. “Did you say something?” He asked, and Bobby gets the feeling that the prince is ready to argue with Bobby on this.

“I said that wouldn’t be your outlook if you were one being robbed.”

“Maybe not, and you’re right because I’ve only ever lived with money, I’ve never been robbed—” Oh, the irony, “—so maybe you are right. Maybe I would hate you then. But I have the money, I have everything I need and more. I don’t see why we don’t give money to the people, to be honest. It really doesn’t make sense.”

Bobby’s left speechless for a moment. He’s never met someone who was so nonchalant and uncaring about his money. He really should have asked, but that would have been embarrassing. Bobby has to go get the stolen items and return them before anyone finds out. But how can he just excuse himself? He slides off the bed, “I need to go, I forgot I had to do something for my boss.” He imagines the words spilling over his shoulders as he rushes out the door. A knot is in his gut as he runs, his feet pounding on the pavement, pushing him forward. Each step fills him with more and more hope.

The doors to the Krustie Krabbe clang open, but Bobby barely flinches. “Mr Krabbes!” He calls out. Surely he’s left the restaurant, it’s late in the night. He checks his office anyways, hoping against all odds that Krabbes is there.

No luck. He grabs a couple of burgers and bags them before heading back out. He's gotta check out Krabbes' house next. The house is small, painted black and white, and Bobby knocks on the wood door. He knocks every couple seconds, desperate to fix his mistake before it gets noticed.

"What is it, boy? You be knockin like some Savage beast be nippin at your heels."

"Mr Krabbes, we made a mistake. We need to go return all the stuff from the palace. The prince—" Krabbes cuts Bobby off quickly, pulling him in the house harshly.

"You got found out by the prince? And yer here, compromising me situation?" Bobby inwardly groans.

"You don't get it, he's not like the king he said he'd give people money if they needed it. We can just ask him for money!" At the mention of money, Krabbes pauses, giving Bobby hope that his boss will give in.

But then he shakes his head. Because of course he would. "No me boy! It's a good idea in theory but he won't be that open with his money once you ask." Bobby's head drops and he looks at his shoes, silently angry.

"Besides, it wouldn't keep us going for long. We got mouths to feed, boy-o, and we can't keep asking the prince for money." He adds in a softer tone.

Bobby sighs and watches as locks of his strawberry blonde hair bounce. "Alright." He replies, turning on his heel. He leaves with a muttered goodnight, and doesn't look back.

The bag of burgers is still clutched in his hand, forgotten but not unwanted, and Bobby keeps his eyes carefully trained on the horizon, pushing out all his thoughts. The palace looms over him, looking more daunting than it previously had, but Bobby scales the wall anyways, miraculously unseen yet again.

He trudges toward the prince's room, heart in his stomach. He could always rob it back from Mr Krabbes, but he doesn't know whether he'd want to risk his job or not. "Patrick," he calls through the door, "I'm back. I brought food too!" He tries to keep his tone light and happy despite not feeling like it. He really is a deceiver.

When the door opens, Bobby walks in, chattering to avoid the gnawing guilt he feels. It isn't until he's seated on the floor, waiting for Patrick to join him that he realizes the prince hasn't said a word. He looks up at Patrick, who's looking at him with a frown, eyebrows scrunched together.  "Do you know what happened while you were away?" Is the first thing the taller of the two asks.

Bobby shakes his head, gulping. "The guards found that there were things missing from the palace. Some silverware, some jewelry, some gold. We were robbed. And y'know the name I heard from the guards?" Bobby stays completely still, stiller than he's ever been in his life. The prince continues: "Acro. That's what they said. They said they were sure it had to be Acro because like all of Acro's thefts, everything was put back the way it was, neatly. Almost as though trying to hide that a theft had occurred."

It's true. When he's stealing from the vendors he can't necessarily afford to be meticulous, but on the small handful of home robberies that he's done, he's always made sure to neaten everything up. He looks away from the prince. "Why'd you do it?" He asks, voice laced with sorrow.

This makes Bobby sadder but it also angers him. That's exactly what he was saying to the prince earlier. "I told you you wouldn't get it." Bobby stands up, decreasing the distance between them. "You didn't listen. You have no clue how it is out there or what it feels like to go to bed with an empty stomach, trying to make the best of it because your friends need it more. You don't know how impossible it is to make money out there, you don't know what it's like to essentially be forced to rob and run for your life because you grew up with money, you grew up comfortable."

Bobby's suddenly of his rising voice, his finger poking Patrick's chest, the prince's breath hitting his forehead. He has to contain himself. "I should call the guards." Patrick states icily.

"Do it." Bobby snarls. "I dare you."

The prince narrows his eyebrows, and shouts the word at the top of his lungs and moments later, four guards rush in, grabbing Bobby by the arms. "This boy bothering you, your highness?" One of them states. His voice is deep, smooth like velvet.

"That boy has confessed to me that he is none other than Acro." He States, maintaining eye contact with Bobby.

Bobby can feel the blood leech out of his face, suddenly numb. He can't hear the conversation amidst his shock, and he hardly feels them dragging him away. He's looking at Patrick, who's looking at him. Both of them broken.  

The dungeon is cold and damp. It feels grey, sucking out the color of the world, leaving it hollow. The way he feels on the inside. He's curled in a ball in the corner of his cell, trying to piece things together.

He's going to be executed. Day after tomorrow. It's off with his head. He's past crying now, he's just thinking and thinking and thinking. Bobby wishes he'd done everything different. He's hugging his knees to his chest when something clatters to the ground, startling him. The locker.

He face palms. Of course! Why didn't he think of it sooner? Hurriedly, Bobby picks the necklace up, secures it around his neck and rubs it. "What, what do you—where are we?"

"We're in the dungeon and I'm gonna have my head chopped off. They found out I'm the thief they've been searching for. Can you help me?" The genie blinks in surprise. Maybe it's the wild look in Bobby's eyes, or the desperation in his voice, but the glare that was fixed on him by the genie melted off Sheldon’s face, and he nods. “It’ll take a wish, though.”

“Yeah, but I figure that my life is at stake here, probably a good way to use my first wish.” Bobby would smile, but he’s feeling so numb. So empty. So broken.

Sheldon nods, snapping his fingers. When Bobby opens his eyes, the two are in a sandy setting, and in the back of his mind Bobby thinks of the word ‘desert.’ “Where are we?” He asks, fingers digging into the soft grains.

“See that building that’s just barely visible?” Sheldon points into the distance, and if Bobby squints his eyes, he can just barely see a structure. He nods, and Sheldon continues: “Well, that’s where we need to head to. When we get there, I think we’ll find someone who might be able to help.” The mismatched pair head off towards the unknown. Well, unknown to Bobby.

Hours later, they reach their destination, and strains of music hit his ears. There are people flitting to and from, chattering above the music in a tongue he can’t understand. He’s not sure where he is, but he’s relieved he isn’t home for the moment. He’d be a sitting duck, waiting for his demise to come at last. He could just never return, now that he thinks about it. He could stay here, lonely, unable to communicate with those around him. He would be safer.

“Quit your sulking and get a move on.” Bobby’s companion had quit his floating, now walking beside him, dressed in clothes similar to his own.

“I think I earned the right to sulk.” Bobby remarks sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Why, because some guy you knew once upon a time ratted you out and he just so happens to be the prince and love your life?” Sheldon bats his eyes at the last part, mocking Bobby lightly.

“Oh be quiet, you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to finally reunite with an old friend you have feelings for only to mess it up because of who you are.” Bobby sighs, blinking back tears.

Sheldon’s face closes off in the span of a second: “Maybe I understand better than you think.” Bobby studies his companions face for a moment, eyebrows scrunched in thought. “Anyways,” The genie changes the subject, attitude flipping on a dime as they approach the doors to a castle, “Here we are.”

Bobby isn’t exactly sure where here is, but the genie knocks on the wood doors, and when they swing open, the genie and Bobby walk in, greeted by a giant fountain. Sheldon guides Bobby around the fountain, almost as though he knows exactly where he’s going. A couple minutes later, the two reach a door, and Sheldon knocks the door before swinging it open. Bobby’s about to protest and insist they wait for a response, but all his thoughts disappear when he sees the one and only Aladdin lounging on a fainting chair. He sits up when he sees the pair. “Hey guys!” He swings himself off the chair and stands in front of them. He’s a head or so taller than Bobby, and when Aladdin looks at Bobby he appears pained for some reason. “You’re so young.” Are the only words he appears to be able to communicate.

Bobby’s the first to break eye contact. “I’m Bobby Porter. I got into some seriously hot water. I’m scheduled to be executed day after tomorrow. I don’t know what to do, but can you maybe help me?” Aladdin nods, sympathy written on his features.

“I’ll try everything I can, but I don’t know how much help I’ll end up being. My circumstances worked out in the best way possible for me, but that might have been pure luck.” Bobby nods, wishing this didn’t even have to happen at all.

"Alright, so have you tried winning the hand of the princess?" He begins, and Bobby flushes.

"Actually, it's a prince, but yeah, I tried. Kind of. It backfired though.” Intrigued eyes meet Bobby’s sad ones. "I kinda robbed him and his father and he found out it was me and ratted me out." Bobby's cheeks burn, but mostly because it seems so stupid. Why would anyone risk robbing the royal family?

"Oh, that makes things a little tougher." Is the response he gets and Bobby nods somberly.

"Well, you could get him away from the palace and talk things through with him?"

"I tried that already." Bobby replies, irritated and sad.

"Did you try that or did you get defensive? 'Cause it isn't uncommon for thieves like us to get defensive when confronted.” Bobby looks away, which gives the answer off.

“Okay, that answers that,” Aladdin claps his hands, startling Bobby a little. “The good news is I’ve got a plan. But for it to work I need to come too.”

Bobby nods, “I don’t wanna use my second wish to get us back in case we need it for something later.” He’s still so shaken from the thought of his head getting chopped off, the feeling of the cold metal they bound his wrists with on the way to the dungeon burned into his skin, and he can feel the phantom nick of a sharp object caressing his neck. He pushes those thoughts away and focuses on his breathing only. He can’t break down here, not now.

Aladdin seems to sense Bobby’s thoughts veering onto a much darker path, and he interjects into the noise in Bobby’s brain. “We can use my carpet.” Is the simple response given, and Bobby’s vaguely aware of a warm hand on his freckled forearm.

He nods, focusing on that warmth as he stands up and puts on a brave front. “Right, let's get this thing started.”

[adevotedappraisal]

Short Story: Gershom, part two of two

The conclusion of Gershom, a memorable day in the life of the most famous anti-hero in Barbados, one Winston Hall. Enjoy.

 Gershom part two (the night-duppies)

 by Christopher White

Robert mekking good stew now. He should be cutting them carrots in the pot now. Sometimes I want to go by a rum shop and just talk. Don't know wha I would talk to dem about. Maybe cricket. Maybe pussy. Maybe I'll tell them that when it all comes down to it pussy doesn't matter. I'll wait until the sun goes down a little more till I set out for Robert. Wait until the sky turns that fuck up looking orange. Until it looks lazy. Until the birds get dark against it.

 The invincibility or the infallible impression that people may or may not have had of the Prime Minister was of little thought to Winston. It was of little thought to Miriam as well. This was not a result of docility, but, perhaps cynicism. They both thought that businessmen ruled the country and the people in parliament were figure-heads. Such thoughts are ultimately too pat and are only useful in stopping you from going mad because the reality is that you have no idea how the country works, or, more horrifyingly, you have no idea how it should work. Miriam walked down the corridors of the hotel. The waves that dashed themselves against the outside mesmerised the tourists that were staying in the rooms far away from the things in their life, but to Miriam it was just noise on a radio: just something in the background, like when at the Holetown festival there is a man in the background playing conga drums, but you are too busy looking at the vendors and their twirlers and such, and not paying attention to the congas, but you know that it's still there. She thought about how her son would be when he grew up. He'd have strong legs from doing yardwork all the time. He would talk in a deep voice, no, a high pitched quick voice and talk about how fish prices went up and he can't stand it cuz he likes fish. Don't think about what you could have been Winston. Don't think about what you could have been. Don't think about what you could have been. Don't think about what you could have been. Stop thinking about what you could have been. Stop thinking about all of that. If you think about that one more time. Stop thinking about it, you went to rob a cunthole man with some johnnies that was older than you. Anyone would have looked up to them, or thought they knew what they were doing. Don't think about what could have been. It doesn't help. It never helps. You'll just keep pulling at it like when you took mummy's spool of thread and kept pulling it and pulling it until there was thin pink all over the bedroom and mummy beat you, like she should have. Do not think about what could have been. Just piss over there. Don't think about things while you are pissing. If you think about that mistake then you'll start thinking about the other mistakes. Then you'll start to cry again. You want to cry again like a buller? Then don't think about what could have been. Never do it. No one should do it.

The night was stark and everywhere, hiding the tufts of grass that came up everywhere in the village, and cooling the old roofs of the homes and dog houses. The night also turned things into other things by the theatre of its context. A cigarette lighter is paltry in the day-time, but during night, with all that black around, with all those things away from the eye, cigarette lighters become these magic, chain-less amulets, the clear plastic ones becoming savage, simple, flickering crystals of some sort. You hear more, and the hearing prompts your imagination. But ultimately, the night can only be arrogant, because it knows that regardless of all of our clawing advances in technology, of all of our theories for the explanation of things around us, no matter how much we know that eventually the sun will come around again, the night remains arrogant because it knows that you know that things will be hidden whether you like it or not, and who wouldn't be arrogant in that situation? Winston stomped his boots into the slope of the hill as he descended down to one of the paved roads in Suriname. He walked quickly and hid between houses when he saw someone on the road coming towards him. By the side of one house he looked into their window and saw the television, tall and looming. He forgot for a second that those things no longer had knobs to twist, or tabs to pull on. The show on was a garish display of Americana. The characters, a thin, lanky father and his precocious young daughter were talking. The father said "Well all I have to do is go to the video store and explain the whole mix-up to him. It should all straighten out." Then camera three showed the daughter taking a quick, meaningless sip from her brightly coloured cup while she said "Oh yeah, I'm real sure that'll work out smoothly," while the audience laughed. The couple in the house laughed as well, the woman saying "she too cute nuh." Winston didn't understand why that was a joke, and why the girl pronounced 'real' the way she did. Frankly, he thought the girl rude and in need of discipline. Winston darted his eyes around as he got on the road again. The houses were aglow as everyone sat to enjoy the night-time entertainment. One house had an action movie showing, the volume up to amazing levels, explosions rattling out of the surround sound speakers. Winston still had no idea where these people he grew up with were getting the money for this from. He walked up some cement steps to the side door of a house and tapped lightly. "Who it is?" went the voice inside. "De out-man." replied Winston. The door opened. Sergeant Douglass Sergeant stood up in the bathroom stall of the district police station squeezing the last bit of urine from his penis into the toilet with his finger-tips. He walked out the stall and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was round and a rich brown. His teeth had begun to yellow, from the coffee he had started drinking two years prior once he had signed on for this night-shift. He smiled just to see what he looked like when he smiled. He squinted his eyes at the mirror. He slapped his stomach that was becoming prominent now. "More sit-ups" he murmured. Then, he took out his night stick in the empty bathroom. He held it up to his face while still staring at the mirror. He walked left to right holding the stick to his mouth, and then danced, pivoting from one foot to the other, then sang-whispered some songs "Haiti I'm sorry, We misunderstood you, But one day we'll turn around, and look inside you." then "Jah ras-tafri parro-jammo creator of rhythm and tempo..." then he quickly stuffed his stick into his holster as Constable Henry Yarde pulled down the handle of the door to enter.

 Robert's house was a small board house in a side path that you had to walk through light grass to get to. It smelled of a damp smoke, and the curtains were not changed regularly. Still, the floor was cleaned and the kitchen table was clear, except for a scale sitting by the corner. A radio was on in the bedroom, with an ad telling people about preventing a mosquito problem. The wind picked up a little bit causing the window curtains to rise and fall like when you put on bed sheets and you raise it up and it comes down on the flat bed slowly and cautiously. The wind made Winston look around in his chair. "Don't worry Winston." "I cahn help but worry. I ain't expect de wind to rise like dat usually it wouln't be suh dramatic at this time o' de year." "True." Robert said. Then, "you hungry?" "Yeah man." "I got de food in de oven. It was off for a while, you want me to heat it up?" "Nah jus' bring it here." Winston replied. Robert came back with a plate with more rice than anything else, vegetables, onions browning in the gravy. Robert looked at Winston as he ate. He moved his mouth quickly, but scooped up the rice slowly. He looked straight ahead at the wall as he ate. His hands were hardened, fingernails down to the skin and smooth. But his eyes. The eyes Robert saw up close were the same eyes that everyone saw staring up at them from the newspaper whenever Winston escaped from prison, or when he almost got caught again. Some may tell you that Winston became a folk hero because people didn't believe he did it, and they might be right, but only partially so. Because when you see those eyes that pleaded simply by staring ahead it sent out a secondary emotion of pity along with interest. It made one believe that this guy running for his life in God knows where, hopping on boats and stowing away in the hinterland of some island could be your son, or brother, or somebody. No one felt sympathy for hard featured Peter Bradshaw. Even the two youngsters Barry Jack and Sylvian Clarke got no care because they looked like the type of boys that stole your bicycle while you were in the rum shop. No matter how tattered Winston looked in those snapshots of him being carted off by police, his flopping over-bearing locks and all, it could never stop those eyes from peering through at you. Winston would probably kill you at this point if it came down to it, would definitely steal your computer to pay for passage out the island if he could, but for most people, he was just a boy that got turned into a criminal. A hare forced to scrap through the forest while the wolves descended a-growl. None of this has to be true, very little of it even has to make sense. The resultant was that Winston Hall became our folk-hero, our Billy the Kid, our Robin Hood (provided he just stole from the rich plantation fellow), our real life, living, breathing, crazy, exhausted Br'er Rabbit. "Ya got any plans cook up Winston?" Robert asked as he cleaned up his plate. Winston looked up and blinked at him, maybe thinking, maybe just looking. "I got a idea or two is all but most differently I...just gine try to keep moving." he said.

 The two relaxed and talked about their day.  Winston had little to talk about, while Robert talked lightly about world events that might mean something to Winston, or maybe, might be funny to him. He laughed a slight laugh at some moments, and at others remained silent and motionless.  Sometimes he might make a random comment about wanting pussy, other moments he talked about his school days, stories Robert had heard already, but politely listened again.

"Sometimes I is envy you Winston."

"Why de hell you envy me?"

"Man people know bout you.  Nobody ain't know 'bout me.  You is de most famous man in Bim.  More famous then de Prime Minister."

"Maybe," Winston began, "but wha dah mean for me?  Is not like I could run fuh Prime Minister or, or open ah business down Swan Street wif my popularity.  I was reading a book on criminals when I was in Trinidad.  De term fuh criminals like me ain't 'famous', it is 'infamous' - I famous for being bad.  People would smile with me, but call de police in a heartbeat as well. People ain't care 'bout me really."

"You really 'tink so Winston?  People care 'bout you man.  People still believe you ain't deserve nuh death sentence man.  Most people woulda try to escape too.  Dem wid you."

"I doan’ agree.  People like rules too much.  Dey want to believe that everyting would work out right if dey follow de rules.  Until of course tings go bad and dey got to do tings to survive, then they realise.  I mean it is just like, like...Robert you know how prison is man, they got people that deserve to be there, and they got people who jus' catch a bad break.  A lot o' dem get sell out by they family and friends.  A lot of Barbados like to rely on other people - de government, dey foolish husband, policemen, or somebody.  I ain't nuh genius, but I feel that if a bunch o' people meet me, almost all o' dem would go and call de police cuz dey get tell so.  Won't even tink as to why dey doing it."

"That is you fear talkin Winston.  Barbadians care man.  That is you fear," Robert said, while getting up and fishing in the fridge to refresh their beers.  Winston stared ahead at the wall all that time, and when Robert returned to the table and opened the beers with his keychain he began again.

"Somebody is be talking in my head," Winston began, "I doan’ know who it is, it could be my fear telling me all these tings, or it could be my smarts.  Whoever it is, it telling me hide from everyone.  Last time I was comfortable was in Trinidad wid that woman."

"You did love that woman Winston?" Robert asked.

"Yeah, I did love she.  De love turn me different.  I guess love is do that. "

"If you hadn't get caught doin' foolishness..."

"It wasn't foolishness, it was my heart getting de best of me."

"Alright if you didn't get caught following you heart, you feel you woulda live there forever?" Robert asked.  Winston thought and then looked down at the table.

"Maybe. I love this island, but I was comfortable there.  Here my mind is mek me paranoid and nervous.  I jus' cut off from this place.  I might be de most famous man here, but I don't know much bout it Robert.  Trinidad was where tings did at least seem normal. Cuz, for a lil' moment, there was love."  Winston said.

 Winston lightly clapped onto his shin the side of the collins that Robert gave him on his departure as a plastic bag with fruit lightly cheered by his thigh. Overhead the moon went through the trees with an unmistakable sharp glow, features on the face of it like birth-marks, and were one to walk under the leaves of the breadfruit and mango trees and look up, the way that Winston was at the time, the moon might seem to twinkle its pock-marked light to you.  The houses were mostly silent at this point of the night, week-days it was this way. The insects called out into the darkness, creating an instinctual and perpetuating siren, as each insect, perched on their nocturnal pedestal, found a simple and eternal occupation.

 Miriam found the insects creepy.  When the night-noises reached her ear they were not received as a wafting tone poem of tones, but simply murky tension outside the car window on her ride home. Mr. Holford, who worked at the supermarket across the road from the hotel, and who would drop her home in the late night, and tell her smiling stories of the hopeless, irritable and easily confounded customers and employees of the supermarket, and who also would make fumbling compliments of her hair and necklace and would understand when Miriam declined his invites to concerts and exhibitions, and who would stare at Miriam’s rocking buttocks as she walked away from his car after smilingly thanking him, would then beep his car horn as he drove off softly.

 What is that? A car horn. Get behind this house. Make sure that all the lights are off in this house you leaning against. Your knee is okay tonight don’t worry. Who is that there walking?  It’s her. Her hair is frazzled a bit.  Her hips are so gentle.  How does she look so untouched up here in Suriname?  Almost all these women look run-down, chipped at the edges, shaken about a bit.  She’s different.  She is like one of those dreams you have in de morning when ya almost wake up and ya coul’ swear it real but ya is wake up in de grass and ya look around and realise it is de same as yesterday, but ya is put ya hand together and thank God that you coul’ still dream, cuz if not you probably would’ve drowned youself a long time ago.  Wait. Look at her eyes, all open wide in this night.  Is she surprised?  Is she looking for something?  No. No, look.  She’s scared.  Shite you just slip. Hide!  you just made a noise.

 Winston hid behind the house steadying himself with his forearms while Miriam stopped walking and just stared at the direction of the stumble-sound.  In the porous night where most things are hidden but some things escape stood the two, Winston peeping, Miriam listening.

“Who-w-who there?” she asked, amazingly evenly.  Winston paused.

“Nobody. Just a man. I ain’t gine hurt you.” Winston finally said, secreted behind the side of the house.

“You was waiting for me right?”  Miriam said into the night “I ain’t got no lotta money. I work hard t-this , um today. But tek it, tek d-de money, just don’t ra…”

“I ain’t wait for you .  I was jus’ walking through.”

“Then why you was hiding?”  she asked, not rudely, not accusatorily, but simply curiously.  Silence.  She then asked for his name but Winston stretched the silence, pressed rough against the side of the house.  Miriam took a step forward on the road and then listened, and then looked around as Winston crouched low.  He squinted his eyes at the woman taking tentative steps on the road and opened his mouth to say something, anything, to perhaps welcome her into his secret, or to tell her an outrageous and comforting lie while escorting her home, but instead he held firm and watched Miriam walk down the road quickly and determinedly into the shrouding night.

 Through the grass Winston walked, mainly by memory, through the trees that cradled things to sleep and by the edge of a craggy pasture, pocking rocks and dirt with his boots and collins, and in this heavy chaos is where he crouched down and laid by his supplies and run-ragged possessions.  Up into the air he looked, at the wavy and dreamy clouds, barely hiding the wide moon out tonight, and he thought of rushing things, and impoverished motionless things that loomed in his head as always, and then sometimes he would listen and listen as the night-time serenaded, or mocked him perhaps.

 There he slept, back used to the flat earth, dreams sliding in and out of the thoughts. He dreamt of the children in Trinidad & Tobago, the woman’s children that he was around a lot.  He dreamt about his stern lashes he gave them, and he dreamt of him teaching them how to make bow and arrows out of coconut leaves, sharpening the stem into an arrow-point using an old razor from a broken pencil sharpener.  He then dreamt of a hot fire, and of him running, and running, and running, and then floating and flying through the trees away from the fire up and above Trinidad, looking down at the twinkling lights that families would leave on at times. He then thought of when he was captured there, and the children looked at him and asked “Tony, ya ‘un come back?” to which Winston looked at them softly with those doomed eyes of his, and shook his head no, his heavy locks floundering over and about his shoulders.

 This is your life now.  This is your life.  Look at it. Look at the shadows of dem trees.  Doan worry.  We’ll get another plan together.  Remember Robert had said there might be a guy that could get pay off to smuggle you on that boat?  Something will always come up, you just have to hold on until then.  The same thing day in and out until your ship comes in. You know you got what other people doan got.  You got de discipline.  What? Man you gine got to forget about that girl, about this whole fucking country in fact. Just stay down.  Just stay out here, Robert gine set tings in motion. Man doan let you emotions get de better of you.  Look I know she look good.  I know she comforting.  I know you could use some of that comfort.  But let it go.  This is your life now.  This is your life now.  Look at the dark grass over there.  You could stash some things there.  You got to go over to get those carrots from that plot of land.  That is what you think of.  You get as close as you could.  This is your life.  Winston sit down. Winston-

 Winston got up and looked at the slow clouds, then back towards the little line of houses down the grassy slope.  He took up his new cutlass, and walked, shaky, unsure and for the first time in a long time, scared.

 Sergeant Douglass Sergeant walked around the district police station.  He was testy and bored.  He thought about being on the front page of the newspapers quoting something about some murder case he thought up in his mind.  At least a good burglary case involving a well-known minister or a beloved person in the media.  He would tell the reporters, in the most pleasant of voices, about the dangerous circumstances of the whole ordeal.  He thought joyfully of the microphones, of the notebooks scratched with details, of the television cameras with their dull shine on the lens.  In fact, he was drawing a complex, Eiffel Tower looking antennae on his note-book when Orville Lowell came up to him to challenge him to a healthy round upon round of x and os.

 Eagerly Sergeant would scrawl his x in the corner to begin his winning play he had read of in a book dedicated to these puzzles called ‘Tic-Tac-Toe for Winners!’ that he had picked up in a store adjacent to a hotel on the south coast of the island.  He grinned playfully at Lowell, and then at the page as the younger Lowell tried uselessly to circumvent the inevitable.

 The grass slid against the boots of Winston as he walked down the hill.  The rocks, loose on the dirt moved with a murmuring tumble as Winston kicked them or stepped on them on his way down.  He would arch his head, to see through trees and branches, calculating his path towards a house he had never been to, had never scouted out in advance, had never thought of going to until the recent wanderings of his mind.  Overhead the clouds were soft in their movements and the wind was cool against his old shirt and his face, run ragged by years, decades in fact, of worrying in a harsh, coarse manner, and decades of regret.

 Stop this.  Stop this. Stop this I say!

 Miriam opened the door to her son’s room and watched the young boy curled into the edge of his bed, but a calm curl.  He did not claw the bed-sheets like when she would look in on him after the arguments. This was a motionless slumber, a reprieve from the day at school where he was beaten for trying to cheat on his times-table test, and where Janice Peters, the girl he had pleasing thoughts about, laughed at him when he fell down darting between the trees.  He looked up at her as she laughed and then she walked over to him, helping him up as he dusted off his short pants, saying to him “doan cry, you gine get better”, and then she walked away.  Miriam closed the door slowly, the shadow of the door looming slowly over the bed until it darkened the entire room.  She pulled off her shoes and clothes and just laid in the bed, churning her mind as to who that could have been hiding behind the house, desperate not to be seen, and from whence did he come from.  She felt helpless, but also, for no reason, wondered if that man was helpless as well, adrift with no one to answer to, or to answer for.  

 She didn’t exactly want to help him, but rather, to understand him, where he came from, what had him out there at that hour, and what had him so scared, like her. She thought that perhaps he was hiding from the same dark permutations that she supposed existed in those bushy trees and grass up the hill.  Perhaps the world had ravaged him to such a degree that even the plaintive claps of a woman’s shoe-heel on the dirty ground scared him.  She surmised that his mind saw something horrible in people, and that sight drove him to cower noisily, with mouth agast, like in the movie she saw once where the man saw which people were holy, and which were demons of the devil. If only he stared long enough she thought, then maybe he would see that she was no clawed harlot, but that she was as scared as he was, distrustful of the very nature of people as he was, that she acknowledged the way that love spoiled into vengeful control after a long enough time, disappointing her as she was sure it did him, that poor man clawed and scared behind some wooden house, with the taunting night and the duppies all around him.

 Winston stood behind the bare tamarind tree and solidified his approach: he would climb the low pailing surrounding the neighbouring mini-mart and then squeeze through the space he saw on that hill into her premises, and then softly, patiently, meekly tap the windows of the woman’s house until she awoke and then calm her with his eyes and tell her all that was in his foolish heart about her beauty, her unassuming grace, her glad-eyed son, and his own drifting life, polluted with his frenzied volition and shame.

 He arrived at the galvanized pailing, creeping unsure like he had by the Plantation House where this whole legend began twenty or so years ago.  He jumped up to grab the top, but at that moment, his knee shifted around itself, causing him to fall and hit the outside base with a small thump.

 Miriam then heard a thump, small but real.  She startled up and looked out the window at the night.  She surveyed her little back-yard and saw nothing.  She looked at the next door neighbour and saw the stillness she expected.  She supposed it was a dog or cat bumping against the pailing, but she kneeled there on the bed, looking out at the trees that waved in the slight wind.  And then she gasped, her body tensing up uniformly as if expecting a blow at primary school, as if she caught the Holy Spirit at church, as if she was giving birth at the hospital, as she saw a dark man crawling on top of the neighbour’s pailing.

 The District Police Station’s phone rang twice.  The officer listened, grumbled his questions to the caller while scribbling notes, and then he looked at the two men playing and arguing about the 1987 Calypso Finals results.

 I understand you have a fancy towards her but this is no reason to do this.  Think about your knee.  Think about this pulsating, devious pain that moves from your knee towards the rest of your body.  I can’t stop you can I?  I want to. I want you to walk up that slope and disappear into those trees like you have since you came back to this part of the island. Stop thinking of her…you can’t can you? Your beautiful sin.  A booming voice tells you not to eat of the tree, don’t eat that fruit, but you have to, because that woman tells you to right? Right there, is when love, the way we know it, was created.  He looked towards the sky, looking the way that the sky looked now, a combination of tribulation and creation, the way four o’ clock has always looked, and Adam looked at the sky and chose love over unknowable punishment the way poor you from Suriname will choose it.  

 Winston jumped and swung his leg over the tall pailing and fell to the ground.  He looked around the new surroundings and squinted his eyes to see where the path to Miriam’s house would be.  He walked but then fell wordlessly in the soft darkness, soft because of the approaching morning that would shed light to the physicality of this all but never to the motivation, never to the chirping collaborators of the late night, and never to the love that occurred here.

 Sergeant Douglass Sergeant turned the car onto the street where Miriam lived in a careful arc.  Two others were with him – Lowell, the defeated tic-tac-toe player, and Constable Henry Yarde, a young man new to the police force who swore to his dying grandmother that he would do something useful with his life, and as she felt the dying in her along with the heat, the young man pressed his face into her scratchy, paper hands and thanked her for reforming him.  Sergeant knocked softly on Miriam’s door and the door opened silently creating a tension.  “I-I was just looking out my window when Jesus Christ I see a man jump over de pailing of’ de mini mart.”

“Okay yes this we know.” Sergeant whispered, “but in the time it tek for we to get here, you inform de owners o’ de mini mart?”

“Yeah, I call up Jackie and tell she.  She is de daughter. I call she up cuz I know that she cell phone don’t got a loud ring. It does mostly buzz.”

“Good. Good thinking.” Sergeant said. The young policeman looked at her while her gaze was towards Sergeant.  The woman was terrified.  To Yarde, her eyes were a-blaze with fear, unblinking and beautiful.  The wind would pick up for a couple seconds and he would look at her old T-shirt against her widening waist.  He wanted to comfort her and to tell her lies to calm her and after he kissed her, look at her in the morning sun and tell her truth after truth. Meanwhile Sergeant looked at the woman he briefly consoled at Kevin’s funeral and took down the information, caring little for her fear, taking it only to mean that the criminal was a large man. Perhaps he committed more crimes throughout the countryside he theorised.  Perhaps he could come up with a name of the man for the reporters to put on the front page - “countryside killer”, “de slasher”, and then “de jungle demon”.

 The banana tree in the back flopped as Winston leaned against it, slowly putting and then taking weight off of his knee.  He looked around again, and saw that the space leading to the woman’s house was wider than he thought.  He swept his heavy locks back and wiped his brow with his old shirt, and then held his cutlass like you would an eccentric cane and said out to the abdicating night “Hello.  My name is Winston.  People say I do some tings – some o’ dem I do, but some o’ dem I didn’t.  I tink I love you, but I ain’t sure, so, what is you name?”, then he shifted again in the craggy dirt and said “Good night, my name is Winston and I tink I love you. But wha so is you name?” Then he scraped the ground with his cutlass/ bejewelled cane and said “Even if you scared of me I want you to know that I love you.  My name is Winston Hall.  Yes, my name is Winston Hall and I am not ashamed.”

         Yarde walked into Miriam’s house, squinted his eyes and looked back, asking “Ma’am, is there a way we could get from where you live to de mini-mart owner house?”

“Yes. They got a lil’ path that is connect we.”

“Do we just get out into your back-yard and just turn right?”

“Yes, yes, yes ya is just turn right.” She whispered.  Yarde looked at Sergeant Sergeant, who then slid his right hand between his waist and the leather of his pistol.  “Yeah, we gine go in she yard and surprise he, cuz he think he hard, but we gine light up he ass.” And with that he walked through the length of Miriam’s house, walking as if he owned it with no heeding to any decorum, because whatever decorum that was expected usually – whether you took your shoes off or letting the lady walk in front – would mean nothing once police were in your house, partly because of all the urgency in this and partly because of your status in the country.  If it were a rich mover and shaker like a Goddard or a Williams, they would’ve at least asked if they could be shown the way through the house by the head of the house. Miriam noticed this, but pursed her lips because of this expected acquiescence that policemen’s widows exhibited always.

         The sky was still dark, but still becoming lighter on the upper edges of the sky.  Between Winston and the gate to Miriam’s house was a small, easily hop-able fence that separated the small garden that Winston stood upon, and the concrete that led to the back of the mini-mart.  He leaned against the soft banana trees and looked up as the leaves crowded the round and glowing moon, its shining glow fading as the sun began to make its approach upon the island.

         It combs the light of the moon.  Look at the moon being obstructed by the light slice of the banana leaves, the distant craters and darkness of the moon that suggest another place for us humans to go to and make simple at first with our enviable industry, then only to advertise to the people about the advantages of such a place, and then imagine escaping to a place where the best went to the roughest, just like in the westerns you like so much.  Feel that wind.  Understand it.  Believe that it holds a great new thing for you to encounter.  Feel the wind, pregnant with the exhalations of generations of Barbadians and tourists.  Tell yourself you love it.  The people inside of you.  Imagine that they tell stories to their children about you.  Believe that someone is printing out protest banners for you. Hail the goodness that has gotten you this far, that has made you believe in the gospel of survival through the mere occurrence of actions.  Worship the…

 “Freeze, ya rassole cunt.”

“Doan come close.”

“I gine got ta come close.  Cuz see I is de big bad woodsman coming to capture all o’ wunna wolves.  Ya fucking wolves.”

“You sound like you been thinking a lot about what you gine say before you capture somebody.”

“Hush you fuckin’ mouth!” Sergeant Sergeant barked.

“You even know why I here?”  Winston asked. “I ain’t here to steal.  I here for love.  I here to say something to a woman.  Something that I should have said a long time ago.  Let me through so I could tell her.”

“Put down de cutlass son.  I doan know if you got a crush or you in love but come along and we could sort this out.” Sergeant Sergeant said, his hand out-stretched, on the concrete away from the man.

“I tink I love she.”

 Okay run into the trees and then use the trunk of the trees to jump up to the pailing.  You could leap over and be gone before these policemen come.  We could get de dog and be gone from this parish by noon.  Just run and jump!  Your knee will be okay.  You can’t wrestle the policemen to the ground.  You have to retreat.  Run off. Run off into de wild.  Just do a lil’ jump an’ run.  Jus’ do it calm.

 Winston shifted back and looked at the imposing height of the pailing that he could jump over, he supposed.  He saw the three policemen, and he saw them spread out to be of proper use. Winston gripped his cutlass stronger, his arms tensing and straight.

 Then he saw her.  She peeped through the passageway, furtively of course, but he saw her, her great, rounded eyes, her dense, brown skin, filled with a swirling system of emotions by now, brown with the approaching sun.  She was pitied more than admired in her neighbourhood, and the tourists at the hotel were too caught up in the cocaine and flowers of the island to sit and study the beauty of this woman pushing past their rooms.  This perky Barbadiana, full of egregious glee, of blind fear and hate, who went undetected by the visitors, but always constant to this visitor Winston.  He knew no other recourse, could surmise nothing else but the accomplishment of these heated ideas that singed him in the dark.

 He ran towards the policemen.  The shot rang out with a sharp and ranging flight, like the flight of crows.  Winston slumped back, and then lunged forward towards Miriam while the young policeman Yarde shot again.  Winston fell back, squirming at first and then laying still, letting his shoulder-blades touch the ground, and listening to the arched sobbing of the mini-mart owner and Miriam go over the country-side, which was now becoming lighter with this new Age, supplanting the previous Age that began as the Union Jack went down and our flag went up, and ended as the man, arched and crackling on the ground, began to cough his last coughs about love, heard only by the mini-mart owners, the policemen, Miriam, and the curious primary school boy, who stood with his arms folded, staring through the open glass window of his room, with its colour coming alive again in the morning light.

THE END

[louiskennedyposts-blog]

6 Deadly Sins of Business Owners and How to Overcome Them

For everything we do, there are a billion ways we could do them better. And we may not realize there is better or that we are holding ourselves back, until we get called out. I’m about to call out the consultant, the business owner, salesperson… and even the coach on your sins.

So, if you even remotely have a business up and running, better listen up! Everyone, even the smartest and most confident of us fall into these sins often. And the worst part is that we don’t know that we are doing it.

You want to remain at the top in your business, stand out in your niche market and be the go to in your industry. But to get up there, there are certain sins you should never get caught in, no matter the temptation. These sins range from fear, to apathy, ignorance, complacency and the worst of all, greed, etc.

As a person in the coaching business, professional services, consultancy et al, these sins and more could ruin you fast. Just like a rust, it begins gradually until it eats so deep, it can’t be erased.

And by the time you are ready to make amends, it will be too late. In the case of your business, it could be irredeemably stagnant or dead and gone.

So, how would you feel if you discovered these sins you are so enmeshed in and found ways to conquer them?

Overcoming them will cause a dramatic scale up both in your business and personal life. And because I want you to be free and succeed — I will be discussing the 6 deadly sins that can hold you back and how to blast through them below. Keep reading.

1. Ignorance

Lots of business owners are okay knowing just about a little or nothing of their products or services, but that is a red flag.

I walked into a mall recently to get a facial scrub. I needed a facial scrub for a combination and sensitive skin. Guess what? The mall attendant didn’t only “not know” what that was, but tried to pass off a face cleanser to me with so much confidence.

I was shocked for a while at such level of ignorance, then I stepped up to another attendant who went down the aisle and pulled it right out.

As a salesperson, business owner, marketer, coach, etc., you must know your products and services inside out!

You should know it better than anyone else and never leave any information to chance. You will encounter clients who come to you armed with enough information that may test even your expertise.

All they need is someone who knows in-depth what they are talking about to nail a conviction.

Take a study of all there is to know about your product or service and study more. This enhances your knowledge and ability to present it to clients when need be.

In the course of study, you may also get to discover more benefits, than what every other person knows about the service or product.

2. Greed [caption id="attachment_2751" align="aligncenter" width="600"]

Greed[/caption]

This I must confess, is the sin I hate the most, so let me talk about it and get it off my poor chest. Greed is a sin that makes you want it all, even when it is not convenient or at the expense of yourself and others.

This is a force that propels us to strive for more than basic comfort and survival (which is good), to something extremely flamboyant at a rough expense. What then happens?

We also end up putting our business and clients above ourselves and families, negating our responsibilities to them.

We work on and on for almost 100 hours a week, with ill health, weight gain, loneliness, broken hearts and all at the end. This also transcends to business in all spheres, where a person wants to have it all.

We get into a competition so fierce that we resort to underhanded means in getting ahead. You’d end up smearing your dignity for something transient. This is a common sin that everyone is prone to, so how do you handle?

Take out time every week to list out the things you are grateful for, both in business and in your life. This will reinforce your mind on things that matter to you, and make you hold them dear. It will also help you see how much success you made, which is an assurance that you can do more without undue pressure.

As a coach, consultant or a professional service provider, there are things you hold dear and progress you made to be where you are. Make them a focal point of every step you take. Be content, yet proactive and you will always catch yourself when falling into greed.

3. Desperation [caption id="attachment_2752" align="aligncenter" width="600"]

Desperation[/caption]

When you encounter a setback in your business, you have the choice to review what went wrong and make proper adjustment. An option which will leave things better than they were.

Failure of settling in to make things right sets you on a roller coaster.  You would make the same mistakes and worse, keeping you in a shackle of many wrongs. It will be one disappointment mounting over the other, and then another, until you can’t get off.

This vicious cycle drains all the goodness in you, leaving an unhappy and unsuccessful person. You’d see negativity in everything and feel the need to fight your way through, which leads to desperation.

This further defines desperation as the emotional state in which one feels hopeless and without options.

Therefore, before going in over your head when you encounter a challenge in your work, services or coaching business… check out the following:

Review all your goals and adjust where necessary

Appreciate your clients and request ways which you can add some more value to them

Contact clients who didn’t return all of a sudden to find out why. And if they now give their business to another, seek to know why. If it was the case of no business, seek to know how you can help.

Ask for referrals from clients

Upgrade yourself by investing in your personal and professional growth

This simmers down the desperation and puts you to productive work.

4. Apathy [caption id="attachment_2753" align="aligncenter" width="600"]

Apathy: Emotional Indulgence[/caption]

In clear terms, one can define apathy to be the lack of emotion, interest or concern. This is basically a state of indifference, an emotion people take as shield to mask the ability to get hurt. This is the easiest way to dissociate from unhappy situations and it is unhealthy when over extended.

When we encounter disappointments, objections or rejections in business, most people sink into apathy to bury the hurt. It makes them feel better by dissociating themselves from the hurt.

Such habit in turn can kill all the zeal to move forward in your business. You’d stop prospecting and giving your best because the interest is dead. You have become indifferent.

To be successful in sales or coaching business, you should know where to draw the line and maintain a balance. Everyone is apathetic at one point or the other.

We take up an indifferent character, because we don’t want the hurt, challenges and disappointment to get to us. But the problem is when you pitch a permanent tent in the apathetic camp.

Be vigilant about the onset of apathy, get an accountability partner that will call you out on it. Learn to be optimistic and proactive, by acknowledging your successes and working at your weaknesses. If you allow apathy to take control, you’d never grow from rejections and disappointment.

You would shut yourself out and this in turn will stop you from reaching your business goal.

5. Complacency

This often occurs with business owners who have achieved a certain measure of success in life. You have a sound client base, hit most of your goals, and cashed out huge paychecks... what’s next? You decide to relax.

You get to a point where you rest on your laurels, because you feel that you’ve mastered your craft. You’re comforted with the belief that if you are relevant now, you’d always be relevant. This is where complacency sets in. It is a stage of deceptive comfort.

Truth is that, sometimes, you may not realize you’ve gone complacent until the effect starts setting in. You get to work one day, and you aren’t the person everyone is raving about anymore, but someone else.

You try to apply that winning method that helped you close deals every time with clients… and it is either they aren’t falling for it anymore, or they got it from someone else already.

Complacency stifles growth by making you believe that you are there already.

The attack method is to celebrate every win, but set more goals as you go. You win, you celebrate and move onto the next. Always seek for new challenges to surmount in your industry, and you should never stop until you retire.

Every day is a new one with new business experiences. Do not bank on the successes of yesterday, but the breakthroughs of the future. Every business owner is only as good as their last successes. Create a healthy balance between greed, arrogance and complacency. Do more!

6. Fear [caption id="attachment_2754" align="aligncenter" width="600"]

Fear of Failure[/caption]

We all have certain amounts of fear in us, regardless of how successful we are at our jobs. You fear that you are going to fail even before you start.

The fear comes in different forms which could range from approaching prospects as a sales person… to fear of taking on a new venture or expanding as a business owner, etc.

It is more common in salespersons who will rather pitch to a person they feel is below them, than gun for that high-ticket client. This may be borne out of fear of rejection, flopping, or a total failure due to inadequate preparation.

The first line of action is to find the cause of that fear and work on it.  And when you get to the root cause, flood it with light. The only thing that can scare you is what you keep hidden. Shining a light on it makes it lose its potency.

Build yourself and create ways to overcome your fear.

Lastly, understand that you are not perfect and you need to cut yourself some slack.

This is what sets the successful business owners apart from the unsuccessful. They find their fears, call it out by working on it, and get better at accepting and overcoming.

Final thoughts…

As a consultant, professional business owner, or coach, you will be caught in these sins sometimes, because you are not perfect. You are bound to succumb to the human fallibility. But your ability to get up and make changes when you are down is where the real power lies.

So, I have talked about the 6 deadly sins business owners commit, which include ignorance, greed, complacency, fear, apathy and desperation. I also discussed ways on how to overcome them.

Read, digest and apply them, and if you need support to implement this in your business — click here or use the button below to schedule a breakthrough call with one of our business strategists.

[sinesalvatorem]

Regarding fines and taxes: taxes are generally progressive while fines are not. If you have more income or own more expensive property, etc, you are expected to pay more in taxes. There are problems with the system, but it at least attempts to scale. Fines in general don't do that. A $50 fine for intentionally breaking the law means nothing to a rich person, while the same fine for a poor person for a momentary lapse of judgement might mean they don't eat for a week. That is fundamentally wrong.

Look, guys, the fundamental problem here is that I’m a consequentialist, and if you’re going to convince me you need an argument based on consequences to net welfare. I’m basing this solely on care/harm foundation; not fairness foundation.

I don’t care whether anyone is intentionally breaking the law or not. I don’t think “breaking the law” is an atomic moral act. I think causing harm is. I want to know if people are commiting actions that are /actually making other people worse off in some way/, and if so I think that that person should be on the hook for making up for the damage.

Under this principle, it doesn’t make sense to fine people more or less based on the amount of money they have. This isn’t an attempt to distribute a fair amount of punishment, because punishment is orthogonal to the problem. If you cause X harm, you’re on the hook for compensating /exactly that much harm/.

Charging poor people less would only make sense if the amount of social nuisance caused by a poor person playing their music too loudly is less than the amount caused by a rich person playing their music too loudly. Which is almost certainly not true.

To charge different schedules of fines would require that either 1) the poor pay less than the degree of costs they impose on others, which would mean one should in general expect poor people to be more anti-social, since they wouldn’t be bearing the costs of making other people’s lives moderately worse. Or 2) the rich pay significantly more than is the actual degree of harm they’ve caused. Which, like, why? As I already noted, I’m just looking for ways to make sure people compensate for harms they cause.

Like, mens rea simply doesn’t factor into this. If you lose your wallet because you were inattentive, the State doesn’t step in to give you the money back. It sucks, but no one could prevent it but you. Similarly, if due to inattentiveness you cut someone off in traffic and increase the chances of an accident, then /you have made others worse off/, and that is again on you.

And it’s not that I’m unsympathetic to people who are inattentive. I have ADHD and constantly dread making these kinds of mistakes. But, if I make them, I have to admit that no one fucked up but me, and it wouldn’t be right to externalise the costs. Not charging people for the social costs they impose because we feel sorry for them is just unfairly passing the buck - Why don’t we feel sorry for the people they’ve made trouble for? Being equally concerned with everyone - not just the visible people we can empathise with - means not ignoring externalities.

Which isn’t to say that the /current/ schedule of fines - either the list of finable offenses or the costs imposed for them - is something I endorse. It doesn’t look like the thing I want, because it’s not actually optimising for compensation of social costs. But, if it was, then yes, it would charge the same amount for the same action, regardless of who the actor is. Because you can’t just let things go because the person assessed is sympathetic and the people distressed are faceless. That is fundamentally wrong.

[dennou-translations]

Kagerou Daze VIII: Chapter 4

Children Record -side No.3 (2)-

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Even if someone were to die, no matter what, we wouldn’t cry. Should we manage to meet again by any chance, crying was permitted. Ever since we had made that promise, I had been intending to prepare myself in several ways.

But, I’m sorry. This kind of thing... is really painful, after all.

It was the third time that one of my family members had died before my eyes. Honestly, under what sort of star had I been born to be facing those horrible circumstances? I had often heard the words “there are no gods”, but if there really weren’t any, wouldn’t I have been spared from wandering through such a bizarre life?

I don’t believe that gods don’t exist. There has probably been one god with an exceptionally ill personality leading us by the nose all this time. Or something.

I had already been deluding myself with those kinds of “meaningless things” over and over whenever something heartbreaking occurred. It was not as if anything would change were there any gods. I was aware of that much. Except, the desire to know what a so-called “god” was and of wanting to see one didn’t fade.

Aah, I see. That may be why.

Mary’s figure as she stood before my line of sight had a god-like, overwhelming presence, enough to make me think, “perhaps ‘that thing’ in front of me is a god”.

It had happened a little while back. Shintarou-kun’s “plan”, which was too well-done for something conceived during a single night’s timespan despite that it could not be considered meticulous, had gone roughly as arranged. Using Mary’s power, we were supposed to stop the movements of Dad... of our enemy, who “Clearing” was living inside, and restrain his body just like that. I think the way things had gone until that point could even be described as perfect.

It was immediately afterwards that the situation had abruptly changed.

Two of our comrades were murdered in the blink of an eye by a pitch-black shadow that had appeared in the center of the dark laboratory. The “Clearing Snake”, which had sprouted from within Dad’s shadow, transited into Konoha-kun’s body, as if already meaning to do so.

Konoha-kun’s “ability” was the “Awakening Eyes”. Most likely, I wouldn’t have been able to predict that the “Clearing Snake” would take over said “ability”, which strengthened its owner’s flesh, even if I had tried thinking about it.

As though sneering at me, a nasty laughter reverberated through the room. I had a feeling that I heard a scream from Mary merging with it, but I couldn’t do anything at the time other than simply stand still before the tragedy unfolding in front of my eyes.

A tenacious “body” and an evil “head”... in short, the worst-case scenario.

Regardless, by the moment I had internalized that, Konoha-kun’s sinisterly distorted smile had already been drawing close to my field of vision. As I had been grabbed by the neck and lifted, without being able to even gasp, I had squeezed my eyelids shut... Yes, it had been right at that instant. I had unwittingly cringed in fear at the words that suddenly reached my ears.

“Come, Kagerou Daze.”

For a second, I had been unable to tell that those words were from Mary. Fitting of the occasion, Mary was showing an attitude of resentment unlike her usual one from the times when we would poke fun at her.

At any rate, the person who made a fool out of her the most was no one other than myself. I even wondered if I wasn’t the one who had seen her get angry most frequently. Still, the wrath that had traced Mary’s voice when she called for “that name” wasn’t in the same proportion as normal.

“Clearing” had promptly stopped all of his movements, and although it was only for an instant, he had showed an expression that made me believe he was almost shuddering in terror.

Soon after, a gigantic jet-black mouth had materialized, cutting through the frozen atmosphere of the room. That thing, which had seemed to drive off every single bit of direness, twined around and took away Shintarou-kun and Kido’s bodies, vanishing off somewhere.

I had no idea if it was because of the impacting occurrence that had just taken place before my eyes or because of the fingers tightened around my throat, but after having witnessed that, my consciousness had come to a halt...

I pondered on how much time had passed since then.

As I woke up within dead-still, total darkness, “she” was in front of me, wearing Mary’s appearance. The reddish black pupils of her dimly shining slit pair of eyes, which crept with countless snake scales, carved holes into me. Her once long hair that used to resemble cotton had become short, and her once cheerful face that used to retain cherubic traits bore a cold countenance, as if she were someone else.

What those eyes were glaring fixatedly at was Konoha-kun’s figure, which had been discolored into black. He stood upright and didn’t budge an inch, just like Dad when Mary had petrified him earlier. However, although that way of solving things seemed to be the same as back then at first glance, it looked sort of different than how it had been done with Dad. He remained staring in bewilderment with a facial expression almost like he was stuck in the edge of despair.

The power of the “Mary” I knew wasn’t like that.

Was it my instinct? I was certain that “she” who had done such a thing to “Clearing” while he resided within Konoha-kun was not a person, but “something with a human form”. Someone clad in Mary’s appearance other than Mary herself...

Unable to hold back, I swallowed my saliva at the word “medusa”, which suddenly surfaced in my mind.

Perhaps due to having heard the sound of my heartbeats, she took notice of me, turning her feet to my direction without saying anything. Weaving, she gradually came closer with a face that made her seem like she was going to pin me down. And, as she came right before my eyes, she squatted, pointing to her own chest while asking in a voice I was used to hearing, “Are you... this child’s family?”

That manner of speaking was not Mary’s.

I wavered for a moment, but I didn’t feel any pressuring intent from her question. Either way, I did open my mouth to answer, but I didn’t know what essentially I was supposed to say in response.

I think that “this child” refers to Mary. If so, then being asked if I’m her family is a little troublesome.

It felt a tad complicated to reply with “that’s right”, and the range of interpretations for “comrade” was too big. In that case, maybe I should go with “friends”, I cogitated as well, but neglecting the family part through affirming we were friends felt off-putting.

While I was distressing with my thoughts, she exhaled with a hum and opened her mouth again as if she had just concluded something, “Or, perhaps, her husband?”

“That’s not it!!” I denied on the spot. It wasn’t like I was grossed out, but I also couldn’t afford improper misunderstandings.

Maybe due to being surprised at the loud voice that I had spontaneously emitted, she blinked a few times, sucked in a breath and snorted with a “huhu”. “What, so you can talk? Since your lips were all the while repeatedly opening and closing, I figured you were the type that would convey it in this way.” as she spoke, exactly at the point where she had said “what”, she displayed a gesture as if she were stroking her chest.

Before I realized, the air of something like solemnity that had been enveloping her until just now melted away, and it felt as though her body had somehow grown a bit smaller. Still, her way of talking even about that was pretty different from Mary’s... By the looks of it, since she was speaking so eloquently, it didn’t seem like she had changed her tone by mistake. If so, then, there weren’t many prospects to think of. Probably, upon some sort of cue, the personality of the former “Mary” had switched with “hers”. Well, there was also the possibility that “she” wasn’t a woman.

“Just... who are you?” I asked demandingly, and she blinked a few times in surprise again.

Was it a habit of hers? Her attitude almost looked like that of someone who was analyzing my words and motions as if they were fascinating.

I wondered if I was going to be hit, but instead, she spewed her name out as if she hadn’t particularly intended to keep it secret, “My name is... Azami.”

As I heard that name, the presentiment that had crossed my mind a moment before turned into confirmation. Right now, the one residing within Mary was the owner of the diary Shintarou-kun and the others had found at Mary’s house... the “medusa” Azami.

“Also, I am the mother... of Mary’s mother.”

“Ah... I-Is that so?”

Moreover, she went as far as giving a courteous explanation. From the feeling she gave off, she might be a living being much easier to understand than the image I had formed from what I had been told.

Nevertheless, with that, I was somewhat able to digest the circumstances. If I were to believe Azami’s words, she was possessing Mary’s body through whatever method, just like what “Clearing” had done with Konoha-kun. If so, then the fact she had enough power to render “Clearing” defenseless was also convincing. That person was the so-called “source” who had granted us our “abilities”. She certainly exercised a power much stronger than us, who used our “abilities” as something borrowed. Overall, maybe it could be said that the situation was as though an adult had broken into a children’s quarrel?

Then, aah, I get it. This story has a pretty cruel side too.

“Why... Why now?” words instantaneously spilled out. With them as the trigger, memories started overflowing one after another, and before I noticed, my throat was shaking. “It’s too late, isn’t it!? How many people do you think have died?!! If only you had come save us a little... a little sooner...”

Not even I knew what time the “sooner” referred to. Was it when my mother had been attacked by a robber, when Dad and Mom had gotten involved in a landslide or when Nee-chan had put an end to her own life?

Sure, there was all of that. Yet, probably, none of them is it.

Just now, I had said those things encompassing the thought of “at the very least, I’d wanted you to have come help us before Kido had died”. And so, I didn’t give continuity to the sentence I had spit out beyond that point. My feelings of regret, which had not turned into fury, morphed into tears and piled up over my waterlines.

“Ah... uh...” as she accepted my words, Azami let out a weak voice and avoided my gaze with an attitude of perplexity.

Well, that was only the expected. I knew little about Azami, but she was also a victim in the scheme of the “Clearing Snake”. She couldn’t help her agitation after being shouted at in such a way out of the blue.

Yeah, I understand it.

The fact Azami had come to our aid like that was already something to be very grateful for. I was also self-conscious of how I had unreasonably put the blame on her, and I didn’t think what I had said was right. Except, even so, I hadn’t been able to handle it. As I thought of the resentment towards my companions, who had been crushed and eaten away for no actual motive, I couldn’t internalize it without spattering it out.

“M-My apologies. I cannot even imagine the hardships you all have gone through. Even though I had wanted to come save you, I was unable to.” Azami informed with a nervous tone, closing her eyes like a little girl. I didn’t think it was an excuse and had no basis to negate it by labeling, “that’s a lie”.

“Then, how come you’re here now? At least tell me this much.”

As I said so, Azami’s body flinched with a start, and she responded with a feeble voice, “My body and mind perished back when I lost every one of my ‘abilities’. My current self who is borrowing this child’s flesh and talking to you is nothing but a ‘recollection’.”

“‘Recollection’...?”

“Correct. From the other world, I shot into my granddaughter’s head a ‘reminiscent’ of the time when I was alive. It would have been better if I had managed to do it faster, but...” saying that, Azami pointed her – or it was probably more accurate to say “Mary’s” – fingertips to her temple. “...as long as this child did not use the power she holds of ruling ‘Kagerou Daze’... the ‘Combining’, I could not come out of ‘Kagerou Daze’ to intervene on this side.”

She had shot a “reminiscent” into Mary’s head?

Without a doubt, everyone was composed of “memories”. If someone were raised since babyhood in an English-speaking country, they would be capable to speak English, and those raised in jungles were probably allowed to keep even wild animals as pets. That was the so-called individuality, the prime of life experience.

In summary, what was burning within Mary’s head at the moment were the life recordings of “Azami”? If that were true, then the fact Mary was talking like Azami was indeed convincing... but even so, there was one more thing that had me stuck.

“Kagerou Daze”.

Right, Mary definitely shouted that name earlier.

Most likely, during the instant that thing had appeared and swallowed Shintarou-kun and Kido, the “memory” of Azami had leaped into our world as if passing through the wrong gate by mistake.

Still, no matter how one looks at it, it’s a weird story.

Azami said that Mary had the power to rule “Kagerou Daze”, but I had never heard it from Mary herself. It was thinkable that she would hide it, but it was more natural to conclude she didn’t know about it. Would Mary have been able to call for “Kagerou Daze” so conveniently, as if completely aware that she was a “medusa”?

As I was losing control of my thoughts, Azami suddenly lowered her brows and whispered, “It was thanks to Tsubomi.”

My eyes unwittingly went wide-open at the name that had abruptly come out of Azami’s mouth.

Acting like she hadn’t noticed it, Azami gradually continued speaking, “In the past, back when Tsubomi went to that world, I entrusted her with a message. As in, should she meet my granddaughter in the outside world one day, I had wanted Tsubomi to tell her how to summon ‘Kagerou Daze’. The ‘Concealing’ that lay within Tsubomi brings about my granddaughter’s ‘Combining’. I did think they would eventually meet and she would tell her about it...” Azami’s voice shook lightly midsentence. And then, with a facial expression that seemed too humane for her to be called a “medusa”, Azami went on, as if squeezing the words out, “How faint-hearted... She took my absurd wish into consideration. What a good fellow she was. Regardless... I did not make it in time. There is nothing more excruciating than this.”

Azami’s tears traveled down the scales that had emerged from Mary’s cheeks. As tiny sobs leaked out of Azami, I couldn’t manage to listen to the matter beyond that point.

Frankly, there were many parts in Azami’s story that would make one scratch their neck in doubt. Why hadn’t Kido talked about “Kagerou Daze” until now? And how had she been able to convey it to Mary upon having come here? I couldn’t lie about my desire to find that out, but I hadn’t the slightest idea if pryingly asking about it would be of any use. It would not change what had happened. Getting to learn about the meaning behind it all would only serve as consolation for my lack of strength. Only, I had been able to confirm just one thing after witnessing Azami’s tears.

By the looks of it, it seems I was saved by Kido.

“Haah...” I sighed, covering my face with both arms. My emotions, which had lost their place to go, incessantly stirred within my mind.

Why? How? What should I do...?

However, fortunately or not, those thoughts that surfaced and disappeared led me to exhaustion, not turning into words or making their way out of my throat.

“Were you close to Tsubomi?” As Azami inquired, I could somewhat feel the depth of her thoughtfulness in her manner of speech.

Is she being considerate of me?

Come to think of it, she had asked a similar question earlier. As in, if I was Mary’s family.

It wasn’t like I was trying to make up for not having answered that one, but I responded without missing a beat, “Yeah... that’s right. Ever since we were kids, we had always been together. She was obstinate, awkward, and... I liked her, very much.”

If I could say so myself, thought I had given a pretty blunt reply. Nevertheless, answering with non-sugarcoated words was my intention.

Upon hearing it, Azami retorted with a curt “is that so” and started sniffling. As I found that bewildering and rose my head, I saw Azami shedding large tears in an even bigger quantity than just now, her body quivering.

“Y-You must be disheartened. Being separated from someone who you had stuck with for a long time is as agonizing as setting your body on fire. Uuh... eeh... I am at loss for what to say in return...”

Aah. This person... is such a human, huh.

Rare were the people whom would sympathize so much with those they had just met. In reality, she was someone utterly unfitting of the word “medusa”.

Her snake eyes, welling with big teardrops, bore the color of pain – the same one as the blood flowing within us. It was a sinister hue, which had continuously caused trouble. Of course, it was not as if I were about to blindly believe in Azami’s story. Yet, a small but huge fact stood ahead of that. We knew the emptiness of being labeled as “monsters” and detested. There was no way we could hate someone who had that eye color.

If it were Kido, she’d probably say so. I’ll use this as guide.

“There’s... no helping it anymore. Kido did her best for our sake. It’s lonesome that she’s gone, but we can’t just keep on crying after she sacrificed herself for us to live.” I asserted, getting up.

Those words were half-true. But the other half was a lie. For the time being, before said lie thawed away, I could not afford to waver.

“Thanks for telling me all this, Azami-san. So, what should we do now?”

“There is no need for the ‘san’. It’s ‘Azami’ for you.” Azami said in discontentment after a pronounced hiccup while drying her tears.

“Aah, erm... Is that... something important?”

“Obviously. It is the precious name I was... bestowed with in the past.”

I see. Indeed, it’s of great significance.

“Got it.” I replied curtly to Azami, who was human-like in every aspect, turning back towards the direction of “Clearing”, who remained inside Konoha-kun.

Not having changed at all from earlier, the figure of “Clearing” as he stood in place, combined with his expression, was the image of anomaly itself. There was no light in his blank pair of eyes, and not a single sign of emotion could be felt in them.

That was the situation until the current point, and from the perspective of an outsider, it probably looked like everything was settled. Alas, things were no good. At the very least, for as long as Konoha-kun’s body was being possessed, we could not leave him alone.

Besides, we didn’t know when he would start moving and attack us again.

That’s precisely why we need a simple way to deal with “Clearing”, who has stayed unchanged since not long ago, but...

While I was lost in thoughts of possibilities, Azami slowly opened her mouth, “I concluded that the power of my granddaughter had a few-minutes limit. So I used... Tsubomi’s power of ‘Concealing’.”

At the words “I used Tsubomi’s power”, my chest throbbed piercingly. No matter how much I comprehended the truth, in the end, it really wasn’t a reality I could readily accept.

Perhaps because I didn’t react, Azami peeked at my face. I panicked to regain my will, and then proceeded to contemplate Azami’s words. What did she mean by saying she had used the “Concealing”? Kido’s “ability” was supposed to be the power of dimming people’s perception endlessly.

“Erm... it doesn’t look like our forms have become fainter... How did you use it?”

“‘Forms’? Aah, making oneself fade is but one of its uses. Well, it is a simple story.” As Azami spoke, she pointed at “Clearing”, spinning her finger in midair as though to circle his surroundings. “I erased ‘all of his senses concerning anything from this world’. He can no longer perceive sounds, light or even his own actions. It is something akin to being trapped in a world of nothingness. He most likely does not know how to move that body anymore.”

The muscles around my spine unwittingly shuddered at that way of speaking, which bore iciness. Not a single trace of the thoughtfulness of just now remained in Azami’s expression as she lorded over “Clearing”.

Erasing all of the opponent’s senses was aberrant at best. It was not a matter of being good at using an “ability”. Once again, I was able to feel that she who stood in front of me was a genuine “medusa”.

“However, it is merely for buying time. It does not last too long.” Saying so, Azami walked to the direction of “Clearing”.

Panicking, I followed her.

Standing before him, Azami surveyed him seriously, letting out a deep sigh. “As expected, his body is rearranging itself little by little... He is most likely using the ‘Awakening’ and beginning to create a body that my power will not befall onto. He had already had thorough knowledge of my powers from the very start, so this is only the obvious...”

“In short, this means...?” as I asked, the corners of Azami’s lips twitched, mingling with cold sweat.

“It means that, in just a bit more, on top of ‘getting his hands on a body that will not be affected by this trick ever again’, he will also be able to move.”

Immediately, the memory of being grabbed by the throat came back to be vividly. At Konoha-kun’s cruel smile, which was drastically different from his usual soft expression, my body trembled and it felt as if I would go insane.

“T... This is bad! We’re already no match for him as it is... What do we do about that!?”

“Wa-Wa-Wait! Calm down! I had anticipated to some extent that something like this would happen! It is not as if I were just idly spending a long time in that world. Evidently, I have properly thought out a countermeasure plan.” After waving off my overawed behavior with a shaking hand, Azami crossed her arms and huffed sharply through her nose.

I see. Now that I think about it, this is how it is, huh? For starters, “Clearing” himself was a part of Azami’s “abilities”.

Even without setting up a surprise attack or traps, there was no mistaking that Azami, who had her “medusa” powers, was in a position of absolute advantage. Despite that, I had had an outburst just from hearing a remotely scary story, and ended up doing something generally embarrassing. Azami also seemed to have a lot of confidence, so I should leave things to her and watch over it.

While I tried creating expectations, Azami uttered a “well, just look” and projected her two arms towards “Clearing”, quietly closing her eyes. “No matter how much intelligence it acquires, or how it manages to get its hands on a relentless body, this fellow is nothing but one of the ‘abilities’ under the control of ‘Combining’. I will drag it out and force it into submission...!” Still with her eyes closed, Azami began groaning out an “uhn, uhn”. As if she were devoid of a heart, she gave off the impression that a somewhat somber aura had started wafting about her surroundings as well.

Aah, so the time for our long fight to end has finally come? I lost my family, lost my friends, and truly a lot of things happened.

Even if it was over, what was gone would not return. However, the things Shintarou-kun, Kido and Nee-chan were trying to protect had not fallen into enemy hands. Just from that reality remaining, my current self thought of it as salvation.

I also had to express my gratitude to Azami. Had Azami not come, right now, we would be...

“Huh?”

Just now, it felt like Azami said something ominous, but was it my imagination? I’m certain that I heard her say something like “huh?”, though...

As I looked at her, Azami was squeezing her lids shut against the area between her eyes and her cheeks, seeming to be exerting a fair amount of strength, so although she had talked about dragging “Clearing” out, from her state, it seemed to be a considerably difficult task.

Do your best, Azami. This isn’t about winning or losing, but anyhow, don’t give in.

Azami continued groaning with an “uhn, uhn”.

No, is this really okay? You kinda started saying “huuhuu”, so are you okay, Azami? Hold up, you just looked at Konoha-kun’s face for a moment and made an expression like “eh, he has still not come out?”, so is everything okay, Azami? You had said stuff such as “It’s not like I was just idly spending a long time in that world” earlier. Wai—Why do you seem like you’re about to cry? Put in some effort, Azami, really...

“I... I can’t anymore.” As Azami turned towards me with a pale face, not a single fragment of her dignity as a “medusa” remained in her. And, probably, my own face was painted in a similar shade.

The room that was nothing but gloomy became enveloped in a stagnant silence... which was broken.

“No, eeeeeh!? Wait a minute, you were super full of confidence just now, right!? You said something like ‘this fellow is nothing but one of the “abilities”’, didn’t you!? What was that, then!?”

“S-S-S-S-S-Shut up!! As if I know!! I desperately did what I could!! I don’t get why, but it’s not listening to what I say at all, so this... kinda didn’t work.”

“‘Kinda didn’t work’!? Gimme a break; I was so looking forward to it!! What do we do about this?!! Hey!!”

“Wha—!? I did my best, so you do not have to put it that way, right?!! If you have any complaints, you do it!! You!!”

“Haah!? There’s no way I can, is there!? Why did you even come here? Maaaaaaan!!”

As we argued fruitlessly, there was a flashy “bang” out of the blue and the door of the laboratory flung open.

“Uwaaaaaaaaaah!”

I unwittingly jumped up and down at the sudden, explosive sound that had come from an unimaginable direction. And so did Azami. She actually hopped higher than I did.

“Everyone, are you okay!? Are things going all right!? Eh, wait... Huh, Mary-chan, did you go through an image change?”

Gasping for air, the one who had appeared was Kisaragi-chan. She stared at Mary, who was being possessed by Azami, and tilted her neck with a flabbergasted expression.

Asking the friend in front of her, who had scales poking out of her cheeks, if she had gone through an “image change” was disconcerting. Since that was the first thing that had come out of her mouth as she plunged into such a situation, it felt very Kisaragi-chan-like. However, if Kisaragi-chan had come, that guy must have come as well. As I directed my gaze towards the wide-open door, I saw a tall shadow coming in staggeringly.

“Wai... Y-You went too far ahead, Kisaragi-san... Haa... Hii...” Seto, who showed up with shoulders heaving as he breathed raggedly, spoke almost like panting, hands resting on his hips as if he were a marathon athlete that had just finished a race.

Kisaragi-chan had been arranged to regroup with us after the “distraction strategy” was completed. Meaning it had roughly gone as planned and she had come all the way here?

Seto’s mission, simply put, was to be Kisaragi-chan’s bodyguard. He had to check whether there weren’t any unusual voices in the surroundings that could be thought of as belonging to enemy reinforcements, so that encounters with opposing forces could be avoided – in other words, his role was of being a “sonar”. I had at first believed Seto wouldn’t be too happy about having to use his “ability” so recurrently, but in actuality, Seto had responded with a reliable “leave it to me”, which had left me a little surprised.

Well, looking at his state and that exhausted breathing, it seems he was monopolized a lot, though.

“Aah, Seto-san. Sorry for having dashed ahead. How should I put it? Unexpectedly, Seto-san, your legs are slow...” Kisaragi-chan appeared guilty as she said so and bowed her head, but, well, her choice of words was kinda the worst.

“I’m sorry...” after Seto laughed weakly, a shadow cast upon his facial expression. Although he was physically fit, he was a relatively lethargic runner.

Nevertheless, for her to leave her bodyguard behind and rush off, Kisaragi-chan was really something else. Well, Kisaragi-chan’s “ability” was also quite powerful, so an enemy or two were no match for her if she used it seriously.

“Then, Kano-san, erm... what’s this situation?” Kisaragi-chan restlessly scanned the area and once again tilted her neck.

She had probably realized that Shintarou-kun and Kido were gone. As I presumed that, it felt like cold water had been poured onto my stomach. Kisaragi-chan would come to know afterwards about that feeling of anguish I had tasted.

While I found myself unable to answer Kisaragi-chan’s urging, Azami suddenly pulled the hem of my hoodie. “Hey, Brat. Is she a comrade?”

There was a short distance between Kisaragi-chan and the spot that the two of us stood at. Being careful as to not let my voice reach Kisaragi-chan, I rapid-fire whispered into Azami’s ear, “That’s right. She’s one of our members. The little sister of the guy that got gulped down by ‘Kagerou Daze’ a while ago.”

Hearing that, Azami let out a “uuh”. She was the kind of person who had empathized so much with my feelings after hearing my confession earlier, after all. Just from me saying that much, she could probably more or less guess the reason why I was wavering to give Kisaragi-chan a reply.

Regardless, the situation was what it was. I could not keep our swallowed comrades or what had happened to Konoha-kun as a secret from the two. Should “Clearing” start going rampant again, it would definitely be a “game over”. All of us present would be turned into indescribable lumps of flesh in the blink of an eye. That was the one thing we had to avoid no matter what.

Still, how should I tell them? What should I do if I convey it underhandedly and they end up completely losing their fighting spirit? Rather than just that, what if they even give up on running away?

However, disregarding my hesitation, Azami suddenly opened her mouth, “Your older brother was... engulfed by ‘Kagerou Daze’. So was Tsubomi. They struggled bravely, and then died.”

At the unpreceded utterance, my heart rate rose with a start.

“I-Idiot...!”

There’s a thing called ‘way with words’.

I was going to throw in that sentence, but subdued by Azami’s resolute posture, my mouth stayed shut.

With her expression stiffening, Kisaragi-chan let out “eh”s and “ah”s that didn’t turn into words. Seto also had a similar attitude of unrest, and just when I wondered if he was shaking in fear, his strength immediately drained away, his eyes lowering. Unable to handle their reactions, which were pitiful even, I closed my eyes.

She ended up saying it. She conveyed a helpless reality in a helpless way. How much time would it take for those two to face said reality? No, even if they did manage to face it, would they be able to bear it?

However, contrary to such worries of mine, the silence didn’t remain for long.

“Is... that so? I see, I see.” Kisaragi-chan’s words, which she had wringed out little by little, sounded like she was pushing back and killing off something that was about to overflow.

As if to surmise those words, Azami replied, “I understand your unsettled feelings. Still, rotting away here would make their sacrifice a waste. We have not yet solved a single matter, but...”

And, before Azami could finish speaking, a voice overlapped with hers, “I get it. Is there... anything I can do?”

I raised my head without thinking. Before my line of sight, I couldn’t spot a single drop of hesitation in Kisaragi-chan’s expression. My senses, which had become dull, steadily cleared up as though my head had been exposed to sunlight.

Just from memory, I recall having seen that face twice until now. The first was during that day I could never forget, when my older sister had solidified her resolve on the rooftop at evening. And the second was when no one other than that girl’s older brother had borne such expression while standing as our lead.

Kisaragi-chan was attempting to take over her brother’s will. Perhaps struck by that, Seto had seemed to become a little tearful, but responded with a mute nod.

Following each of the two respectively with her eyes, Azami looked at my face as if wanting to ask “what do we do?”.

We’re truly crazy.

Even though we were tormented for no reason and despair was thrust at us countless times, no one would individually “give up”.

By the looks of it, the determination of our members is firmer than I thought. Seriously, it gets to the point of making me want to show it to the Leader.

Suddenly, the “ultimate goal” of the current plan that Shintarou-kun had pieced together crossed my mind. It was something like a terribly childish motto, but Shintarou-kun had an extremely serious expression on when saying it, so it had wound up being funny and everyone laughed.

Still, everyone understands just fine. This is something worth betting our downtrodden lives on and reaching our hands out to. I mean, we...

“Really, I can’t compare to him.”

One way or another, it indeed had to be him, I thought with a bitter smile.

Anyhow, the purpose confirming was over. However, there was one more thing I had to do before discussing the matters from henceforth.

Sucking in a short breath, I suggested to the “medusa” standing beside me, “Anyway, shouldn’t we start with your self-introduction?”

The person in question, who had talked with her severe manner of speech using Mary’s babyish face, displayed confusion with a, “What do you mean?”

From the corners of my field of vision, I could see the figures of the other two nod in agreement while saying, “I was just wondering when we would tackle this topic.”

Well, with her character being so different, it was impossible that the words “image change” would apply.

The atmosphere inside the laboratory, filled with a strong smell of chemicals, was as tense as ever. Illuminated by a light from liquid crystal displays laid out wherever eyes could reach, so exceedingly bright that it could even be considered prejudicial, each of us gathered up and racked our brains.

Whether or not Azami’s tottering self-introduction had been rightly conveyed to the two was left aside, and, as we progressed with a general information sharing, the situation was as unfavorable as previously. According to Azami, the move to restrain “Clearing” and render him incapacitated was apparently a desperate one, but in her current condition, even as she tried thinking of a different method, no counter-proposals whatsoever came to her.

I couldn’t find any type of clock in the room, but that only stirred up the feeling of unease even more. Our minds were blinkingly clad in the inevitable time limit that was drawing close.

Amidst that, I threw at Azami a basic question that abruptly surfaced within me, “Speaking of which, for starters, the ‘eye abilities’ initially belonged to Azami, right? And it looks like you were super well-versed in using the ‘Concealing’... so why is it that you can’t control only ‘Clearing’ however you want?”

As I did so, Azami shrugged as if to say, “this is why I can’t deal with amateurs”. I wondered why it made me want to poke her so much.

“In your case, you eat when you are hungry, and sleep when you are drowsy, right? Just like you don’t have to go as far as using a theoretical reasoning for doing these things, each ‘ability’ has its own ‘cravings’ of preference.” saying so, Azami pointed sharply at Kisaragi-chan’s chest.

Kisaragi-chan let herself be prodded without particularly dodging it, but I didn’t fail to notice Seto evading his eyes from the sight.

This is an emergency, Brother.

“For example, the ‘Snatching’ that you possess has the yearning of ‘being perceived by others’ as its favorite staple food. Each has a different taste, but the ‘abilities’ are able to continue existing through sustaining these cravings. And so, they awfully despise being deprived of wishes.”

Now that she mentioned it, I had the feeling someone asked me something similar back when I had earned my “ability”. Azami had made a comparison with psychological urges, so an image of famine naturally surfaced in my mind. I had once heard that snakes were vindictive, so there might be a reason why those “abilities” that fed off desires had their forms represented by them.

“However, it is not as if they can endure just devouring wishes. Humans make use of ‘reason’ for their ‘whims’, right? Regarding the ‘abilities’, what bears this role is the ‘Combining’.” Azami then nimbly spun the finger that had been nudging Kisaragi-chan’s chest beside her own temple. She indicated as if to say “this is it”.

“I-I see.” Kisaragi-chan successively nodded, with an aspect of someone who hadn’t understood much.

“Most ‘abilities’ submit to the ‘Combining’ as dialogue is useless against it. By intertwining and gathering the ‘abilities’, even a different world such as ‘Kagerou Daze’ can be created. Still, the fact that ‘Clearing’ does not surrender to this probably means he is pursuing a desire that can be a stronger priority than the orders of ‘Combining’. I do not know what it is, but for as long as he is in a state where I cannot control him, there is nothing I can do.” Saying that much, Azami let her head drop with an attitude of dejection. Even though she had been the one to give birth to omnipotent “abilities”, the fact that she herself was not very competent was a serious problem.

No, wrong. Maybe we should conclude it’s exactly because she’s like this that she gave birth to the “abilities”.

Most likely, the “abilities” had been born in order to grant the “various longings” of the helpless Azami herself. And, as a result of whatever conditions “Kagerou Daze” had been created in, they had been transferred to us, who had “wishes” similar to those of Azami in the past. Going by that theory, it would mean the “snakes” had become interested in each of the members’ “dilemma of some sort”.

So if the preference of Kisaragi-chan’s “Snatching” was a “need for acknowledgement”, the desire that Seto’s “Stealing” reacted to was “wanting to know the feelings of others”?

The “Ten Abilities” would eat those cravings and realize them, thus attempting to continue existing. The power of “Concealing” that Azami, who bears the “Combining” – which couldn’t be used unless to restrict the respective seeds within us –, had used on “Clearing”, as though opposing to this world’s reason itself, was something heterogeneous and absolute. If that was the real force of the “abilities”, they were already not in the proportion to be described with the word “abnormality”.

Would that mean they could manage to do stuff like using the “Concealing”, for example, to “render someone unable to cognize anything and everything from this world”? Or using the “Deceiving” to “make someone cognize all kinds of things from this world as something completely different”? Moreover, what if the target of their effect were not a “person”... but, for instance, the “world”, and they could be used on it? The “world” would lose its “reality” to the “abilities”, and a “fantasy” would replace said “reality” through the “abilities”. In turn, wouldn’t that enable just the “Ten Abilities” to do as they pleased with the “world”, which would have mistaken “fantasy” for “reality”?

It was a story extraordinary enough to make people burst out laughing even if it were written down just on the corner of a notebook, but thinking in such a way, it could be concluded that our “abilities” and “Kagerou Daze” were connected by a single thread. If those “abilities” had the strength to rewrite even the world’s rules, it could be also agreed that “Clearing” had designed a scenario to overwhelm us, continuously aiming for our “abilities” and Mary’s “Combining”.

That’s right. The words I had heard from “Clearing” in the past on the rooftop... as long as he had our “abilities”, those words would “come true”. Just... for what purpose? This is the only thing I don’t yet understand, but he was doubtlessly attempting to use that power to make it happen. As in trying to use the power of “medusa” for his scheme of rewinding “everything in this world” and returning it to zero.

Upon having come to that place, the worst-case scenario I had vaguely envisioned started to hint a sense of reality to a ruthless extent. I knew that a feeling of desperation that had begun to rise was violating my head, which wasn’t coming up with any decent ideas.

Regardless of our fretting, no alternatives to get rid of this anguish come to us. As expected, will we meet our end here? No matter how much we think about it, there’s no plan to overcome this wild situation...

“Wild”... “wild”...

Wait a minute. Just now, whose name had been surfacing in my mind again?

“Ah... A...” My voice was shrill, as if perfectly embodying the “despair” that was subtle and faint but nevertheless coiled around my awareness. It easily penetrated my cranium from my eardrums, and brandished the word “death” into my brain, which had been trying to cling onto a tiny bit of hope.

Spurred by our survival instincts, three of us, including me, took a distance from him as if he had jumped up on us.

In contrast, Azami shortened the distance between him and herself, stretching out her delicate arms as she stood in front of him. “Run!! Don’t think of anything and flee!!”

The tips of my toes unwittingly turned towards the room’s exit at the voice that had come out of Mary’s throat, which was heavy with potency to an unthinkable degree. However, unfortunately, my head wasn’t led by enough narcissism for it to prioritize my body’s critical situation. The other two people left seemed to have the same intention, so none of us obeyed as we stood still on the spot.

“Wha-What are you doing!? Hurry...”

“I really wanna do that, but I was lectured by our Leader, who told me to keep it up until the end. Besides, we’ll be killed anyhow even if we run, won’t we?”

The reason why such blunt language had kicked in was probably that my mind was numb. My frame was already trembling all over, but it seemed my mouth still listened to my will.

“That’s right, Mary... no, Azami-chan. There’s no way we’d leave you behind. Trying to fight on your own... you’re showing off too much.”

Using “chan” to refer to the worldwide infamous “medusa”... dear me, this girl is a legend by now.

It appeared Azami wound up at a loss for words regarding us, but eventually, with a manner of talking that seemed to denote acceptance, she spat out, “You bunch of fools.”

Just as she had said, “bunch of fools” was a suitable term for us, who couldn’t do anything despite what we had declared, as it reduced us to nothing but her weak points.

Before our eyes, scattering about an overflowing ominousness and discolored into black for a long time now, Konoha-kun’s body slowly started moving. However, even then, we didn’t feel any sign of only his eyes, which remained blank, facing our direction. By the looks of it, his spirit was still adrift in a world of darkness. Nevertheless, it likely wouldn’t take much for him to regain his former agile nature and come leaping onto us. There was no more time to plan any strategies. However, during that span, one thing alone had crossed my mind. There was no mistaking that it was the reasoning of a novice, but since we had no other plans, it was something worth asking about. The identity of the hope that had crossed my mind a while before had been ironically driven by that guy’s half-revival and surfaced clearly in my head.

“Hey, Azami. Can’t you call for ‘Kagerou Daze’?”

As Azami turned around at my inquiry, her crimson eyes, which looked like pomegranates that had ripened and fallen off a tree, affixed on me.

Those eyes... the “Combining” had definitely summoned “Kagerou Daze” earlier. If we could make that world consume him, even though it might not get to the point of settling everything, it supposedly can put this place under control.

Obviously, there was also the boundlessly callous fact that “Konoha-kun’s body would get thrown into that world”. Still, since Konoha-kun was being possessed, “it was not as if he were dead”.

In the past, we received our lives in exchange of getting the “abilities” and came back from “Kagerou Daze”. Since Konoha-kun is alive to begin with, isn’t there also logic in him returning to this world?

Were all of us going to conformably be tortured to death by the one in possession of our friend’s consciousness and face an unsightly “bad end”? Or should we extent the game and get our hands on some time to piece together a proposal? At the very least, by no means did I think that the “future” entrusted to us by our ingested comrades lay in the former.

“You... Since when have you been aware of this?” as Azami asked so, the end of the sentence was mixed with a fickle shade of dismay. It wasn’t a “I hadn’t thought of that alternative!” or a “Deliberately letting a comrade be swallowed isn’t an option!” kind of question.

It was a constrained nuance, as if she meant to say, “I hadn’t wanted you to notice it”.

Sniffling that sense of discomfort, I replied frankly, “Just now. If we manage to have ‘Kagerou Daze’ gulp him down, at the very least, we can avoid losing more people. Of course, I also want to hear whether or not we can rescue Konoha-kun afterwards.”

“Indeed, by using the ‘Combining’, the entrance to ‘Kagerou Daze’ can be opened. However... it can only be opened.”

As I had thought, it wasn’t like she had been surprised at my idea, and it didn’t seem to be something completely impossible.

While letting the color of apprehension that had peeked from her words just now show in her facial expression, Azami added, “‘Kagerou Daze’ only swallows those in the verge of death. In order for ‘Kagerou Daze’ to consume someone who has already long overcome death, its nature would have to be changed. Still...” Trailing off, Azami strengthened her tone as though in resignation and went on, “Just the power of ‘Combining’ cannot rewrite the disposition of ‘Kagerou Daze’. At the very least, it would be necessary to have half of the “abilities”... those “abilities” that are replacing your lives, reside in this body.”

“Our... lives...”

Inside my head, I lined up the snakes. Mary’s “Combining”. Kisaragi-chan’s “Snatching”. My “Deceiving”. Seto’s “Stealing”. And Kido’s “Concealing”, which had now become a part of Mary.

Having carefreely counted the “number of lives” present, I realized that they were exactly half of ten.

“I tried that out already... immediately after restraining him, while you were unconscious... The powers of ‘Combining’ and ‘Concealing’ alone can only do so much as open the mouth of ‘Kagerou Daze’. But I... had not wanted to tell you this. None of you hesitates or runs away. If I had talked about it, you would...” as she spoke, Azami’s eyes became wet as if she were a child.

With her in such a state, I couldn’t find a single vestige of why she was branded as a “monster” or feared as a “medusa”. I had felt that ever since encountering her, but no matter what, that person’s character had too much empathy. Although it was about people other than herself, she accepted things as they were, and shed tears just like that. Despite most humans not behaving that way, the fact she did was a laughable story.

Aah, seriously. Even though my life is so outrageous, I’ve met a lot of good people.

Kisaragi-chan walked up to Azami, lowered her hips as if to match the latter’s height and embraced her. “Thanks for worrying. But if it’s to you, I can entrust myself. After all, you’re my best friend’s family.”

“U... eh...” without replying, Azami let out deplorable sobs. She wasn’t reliable at all looking like that, but I was also completely adept to Kisaragi-chan’s speech about entrusting our lives.

That was pretty much it, I thought while glancing at Seto, and as he seemed to say “isn’t that obvious?”, I returned with a sour smile.

I really went through a lot with this guy too.

Even that irritating “monsters’ room” was now nostalgic. Those days in which we sat face-to-face on that bunk bed, pondered if there wasn’t “happiness” somewhere, cried and laughed, almost felt like they had happened just yesterday when I tried thinking back on them.

Honestly, it’s great that there wasn’t time to chat about our memories over the night. Had anyone started talking, I’d end up looking forward to the continuation.

And it arrived in abrupt ruthlessness.

“GUGAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” broadly raising his body, “Clearing” let out a beastly roar. His dull yellow orbs scanned the room in circles, and, turning toward our direction, their movements stopped entirely. “Too bad, shitty brats.”

His voice stuck to the eardrums and hit a nerve, similar to a snake poking out its tongue. In that tone, no more traces of our former friend could be found. At his fierce shadow and clear murderous intent, my whole body shook as if it were malfunctioning. Like an incarnation of despair himself, “Clearing” languidly let both his arms drop, his ferocious gaze creeping around the air. As it aligned to Azami, the corners of his mouth rose flabbily, and then...

...one step.

His jet-black right foot swung down to the ground with an abnormal leg strength. A deafening explosion noise roared, and the metal floor tiles that flew off pierced cuttingly into the displays on the wall. Converting the momentum into propulsion power, “Clearing” launched his body forward, transforming it into a pitch-black bullet as it approached Azami. It was an overwhelming use of violence in a time span that wasn’t enough to let out a single word.

Kisaragi-chan, who had received that anguishing attack directly from the front, instantly threw Azami, who she had been hugging, straight to the opposite side. As she glided mid-air, Azami’s pair of scarlet orbs could not be more wide-open.

No signs of the “ability” could be felt in the figure of the girl that made her “future”, her body into a shield to protect her. Even so, her resolve – her soul – was brandished into my eyes.

A thunderous rumble had erased Azami’s scream. With the jet-black shadow closing in on her, Kisaragi-chan had smiled back as if inconvenienced. And then, she had said, “I’m counting on you”, but lastly, her body had been blown away as though she were a rubber doll, hitting the wall and floor, creating on them a sea of bright red blood.

None of us could let out a single yelp at the exceedingly one-sided tragedy.

And so, as if saying “now is your turn”, the eyes of “Clearing” seized “Mary’s form”. Moving his body before Mary in a flash, he grabbed her neck and easily lifted her. At Mary’s aspect of awful dread, “Clearing” showed an expression of ecstasy.

“Stop... plea...”

Without so much as waiting for her to finish, “Clearing” grabbed Mary’s right arm and, in a twisting flair, he tore it apart with a snap.

“AAAaAah!!”

He observed her as though satisfied, with a smile that seemed to say he could make her shriek from acute pain. “Did you think I wouldn’t kill you? Ahahahahahahaha!!”

Along with that coarse laughter echoing through the room, my vision started to blacken.

His right fist, which had been delivering final blows, gouged out the side of Mary’s stomach. As extremely loud liquid sounds scattered about, blood flowed down the ground like a waterfall.

Aah, it’s over. It’s all over.

By the looks of it, it seemed I wouldn’t be able to see the continuation of the world I had once dreamed with.

Aah, how frustrating. A little bit more and it seemed like I’d be able to get there. If I had a next time, I think I’d be able to do better, but no way that’d happen, right? This isn’t a manga. But well, lastly, just one more thing. Wasn’t I able to bring flowers to my useless life? I think I was.

The surprised face of “Clearing” made me happy, and “I who had been set free from Mary’ appearance due to the pain” couldn’t keep the corners of my lips from arching up. I didn’t feel any ache from my arm or the sides of my stomach anymore. As it was the second time that happened to me, I somewhat knew what it meant.

Within my hazy consciousness, I saw the “real Azami”, who had been using the “Concealing”, reveal herself. From behind the scenes, accompanied by five white snakes, she bore an expression of indignation.

Ah, I see. My “ability” already went to Azami too. One way or another, it’s indeed lonely that it left.

If anything, I was glad that I had been able to fight alongside Kido’s “Concealing” at the very last, to the point I thought I had done a little too much.

Before I realized it, I had been dumped onto the ground. Moreover, the angle I had landed on was bad, so my eyes wound up looking at the desperate face “Clearing” had on.

Don’t make that expression with my friend’s face, was the feeling I got.

“Kagerou Daze” opened its mouth. I quietly closed my eyes with my vision blacked-out. Finally, within the darkness, the vibration noises of my phone reached my ears.

Aah, I get it. That girl was here too. If so, I understand, this is how it is. How very thoughtful, honestly.

And so, it was over for me.

Right before my end, just for a moment, I had a feeling I heard the voice of that girl I was so fond of. I unwittingly turned around at the tone that sounded angry. The fact no one was there, more than anything, was very much like her.

[itsuki-minamy]

“SIX IDOLS” – “SPRINT DREAM” (Part 1)

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen."

"Good Morning!"

A pure voice echoes through the Kendo hall of "Promotion Scepter 4".

Many remains of that remain, in the office that was created with the remodeling of the old Army facilities. The Kendo hall is one of them, and the idols belonging to "Scepter 4" sometimes take lessons there and other times hold their swords in their hands.

And at the beginning of the week, there was always an instruction from the president, the "Idol Blue King", Reisi Munakata.

Munakata makes a soft voice in front of the idols lined up in a "rest" position.

"By the way, this week is the biggest event of the year for my production, "Sprint". The "Dream Live Tour" will take place. I hope to have the encouragement of each member so that no preparation or lesson is neglected."

"Yes!"

The responses of the idols are not disturbed. More than an entertainment bureau, the closer rigor to the police or the military was due to the nature of representative Reisi Munakata, and it was also a feature of "Promotion Scepter 4".

The group's glasses glowed brightly, staring at an idol.

"But recently, I have received some concerns, Andy Domyoji-kun. Go ahead."

"Yes!"

Domyoji, who was called by name, screamed to death. From his normally cheerful face, blood is drawn in the blink of an eye.

Domyoji took a heavy step and stepped out in front of the superior.

There is no anger in Munakata's expression. A slight smile floats on the sleek face like a statue. That doesn't mean that Domyoji and the other idols were relieved that they didn't understand the superior.

It was a man named Reisi Munakata, who sentenced to death with a smile.

"Domyoji-kun. The other day, there was a report that you were 5 minutes and 27 seconds late for the entire "Gyumetai" lesson. Is this true?"

"Actually, that's…"

"What is an idol in "Promotion Scepter 4"?"

"Ah, idols aim to be the ideal humans who should become the norm for people..."

"Do you have your own excuse for being late, knowing that?"

"No, I'm sorry..."

Domyoji is drooling. It was like a prosecution and a defendant, but in this case it was a military trial rather than an ordinary court. The sentence is already decided from the beginning, and this exchange is only a ritual.

Munakata acts like he's convinced of something,

"Ok. Let's ask Domyoji-kun to do one of the highlights of the "Sprint Dream Live Tour", "Extreme solo part, Idol from above 6500~”."

"What?"

With a strange voice, Domyoji's expression was frozen in despair. Munakata smiles and touches his shoulder intimately.

"As you know, "Extreme Solo Part" is one of the most popular projects on "Countdown Dissolution, Shoumutai". This time it's a solo part while skydiving from an altitude of 2,000 meters, so his brave figure will be a great copy on the big screen."

"President, please! That's! Just forgive me!"

"What do you say? This is your chance to get more fans. And if you're at the mercy of your life, you won't be late for lessons."

Munakata treats Domyoji, who clings to his eyes, with a smiling smile. The idols are silently staring at the horrible sight.

"Kindness is called haste. Let's start the special training today. Akiyama-kun, Benzai-kun, please take him to the office to complete the procedure."

"Yes!"

The same members of the "Shoumutai", Himori Akiyama and Yujiro Benzai, grabbed Domyoji crying from both sides. Domyoji screams while ruffling his hair.

"Not! I don't like the "Extreme solo part"! Akiyama, Benzai, I am a posterity, so don't miss out!"

"Hold on, Domyoji."

"Oh. Get angry and train. Hopefully you won't die."

Domyoji was dragged out of the Kendo room.

When the door closed, Munakata saw the idols lined up. All the idols looked at Munakata with a better attitude than before.

Munakata says, looking at him with satisfaction.

"Don't be late either. As members of society and as idols who should be a human norm, please respect that."

"Yes!"

The voice of the idols who responded contained a desperate sound.

++++++++++

"Sorry, President! I can't make it on time!"

The driver's scream also contains a desperate sound.

As he listened to him in the backseat, Munakata gracefully reassembled his legs, put his hand to his jaw, and muttered, "Hmm."

"Sprint Dream Live Tour", first day, 4:52 pm.

Munakata's transport vehicle got caught in heavy traffic filling the road and got stuck at all.

Until the day before, Munakata was planning a large-scale live concert in London as part of the overseas expansion of "Promotion Scepter 4". The big picture and charisma of Reisi Munakata, the "Idol King", managed to shake up the stubborn management of the French entertainment world. A few hours ago he won a partnership and a contract in the EU and returned triumphantly to Narita airport.

From the transport vehicle, Munakata continued to instruct the "Sprint Dream Live Tour". Back home. Although he has a difficult schedule of immediate events, he does not have fatigue or mistakes. There was a figure like: the perfect idol king.

It was in the time after Sakura's exchange that the news of the accident and jamming arrived.

Fortunately, no one died, but traffic was completely paralyzed. A line of cars continues towards the horizon, and it takes 30 minutes to finally reach 100 meters. Literally, he was forced into a state of immobility.

If nothing is done, the big event that is approaching a few hours later, will expose the mistake that the "Idol King" will be late.

In such a critical situation, however, there was no impatience in Reisi Munakata's expression.

"Ok."

Munakata says cheerfully to the driver reflected in the rearview mirror.

"I understand the situation. Please, I'll get off at the next intersection."

"But it will take 30 minutes to get there and, according to traffic information, the situation is similar on the lower road."

"It doesn't matter. In the meantime, let's get ready."

Munakata took his PDA out of his pocket and made a call. Munakata's trusted deputy director responded with two calls. It's Awashima Seri.

"Where is he now, President?"

"Currently, we are targeting a four-way interchange. It will take about 30 minutes to get there. I am planning to get out of here."

"That is…"

Awashima groaned. Even if he can get off the four road interchange, it will take more than an hour from there to the location, regardless of the mode of transportation. Since the show started at 6:30 pm, arrival on time is desperate.

After a few seconds of silence, Awashima's voice regained its composure.

"I would like to review the song list. The current program is to start with the president's number at the same time the performance begins, but we will correct this to start from "Shoumutai" and put the president's turn as far back as possible."

"Rejected."

Munakata categorically blocked her.

“Changing the song list will cut the rhythm of the fans. As idols, we shouldn't give fans any kind of anxiety."

"However! If this continues…!"

"I will be on time."

"......"

Awashima lost the words.

He was not surprised by Munakata's recklessness. She knows more than anyone what kind of person Munakata is and what kind of idol he is. He's never the type to talk about the impossible and break the plan.

To be continue…

[displacedleylines]

Theory Drabble: Winter always comes after the fall.

Muse exercise with a bit of a theory that just came to mind and thought it’d make for a cool scene. As always, I could be horribly wrong as I don’t work for the Wow Team.) The frozen winds of Northrend wrapped itself around Wrathion in an attempt to make him bow to the sub-zero temperatures. Although it wasn’t his preferred climate, it wasn’t enough to cause him discomfort or worry. He mused to himself about the poor weather while slinking around Icecrown, knowing what to look for, but unsure of what he would find. He soon regretted not taking more caution as he explored the frozen wastes.

Sharp, cold fingers dug into his chin as his head was forcefully tilted up. He did not recognize who his captor was, but he knew WHAT he was. The black and violet robes emblazoned with skulls was still the signature look of anyone who served in the Cult of the Damned. Many thought the Scourge and it’s loyal, living servants had been defeated.  Wrathion knew better.  Just as he knew the Legion was on its way, he had seen that the Scourge was not keeping to Northrend as promised to Mograine. He knew who now sat on the throne. He knew that the next threat to Azeroth would always be on the heels of the previous. Wrathion didn’t let his slipup falter his swagger, perhaps being caught would work in his fortune! He gave the cultist a sly grin, with a mischevious twinkle in his eye. “Excellent, Mortal! Now it’s your turn to hide!” The Cultist was taken aback, unsure if Wrathion was serious or not. “What? Don’t you like playing games? Pity. I thought you humans always found them to be irresistible. Though I see you prefer to play dress-up. Does your mother know you stole her drapes?” The Cultist was downright insulted, letting go of Wrathion’s chin and storming out of the room. The dragon prince was left by himself, chained to a seat in a musty, smelly mausoleum.  “Your snark is amusing. I may enjoy having you down here for company.” Wrathion’s ears perked up at the voice echoing in the otherwise empty room. He did not recognize it, but the deathly aura was enough to send a chill up his spine. “I try not to make a habit of speaking to disembodied voices. Perhaps you should reveal yourself to my eyes so that I know to whom I am speaking to.” That chuckle sent another chill through his body. “I would be more than happy to oblige, alas, I’m just a jar at the moment. So forgive me if I can’t waltz over to join you. Don’t worry little Prince, I’m not in your head.” Wrathion pursed his lips together, unhappy that the speaker knew who HE was, but was left guessing on who the voice belonged to. Perhaps he could fake knowing, thus tricking the “jar” to reveal himself. “Ah, I thought that was you.” The voice managed to roar with laughter despite its softness and Wrathion hoped it was a successful play. “You have no idea who I am, child. I am not dense. Sad, really. There was a time when my voice would strike fear into those who did not serve me. I am sure, however, you can figure it out on your own.” This was beginning to feel more and more like a game, and he couldn't help but wish it were chess with Anduin. The voice was right, however, whoever he was he had to be connected to the Scourge. Not the Lich King, he wouldn’t have time to play a guessing game. Certainly not one of the new Horsemen...he mentioned a Jar. Perhaps instead, it was a phylactery? He thought for a moment longer as he realized he must be talking to a Lich. He knew of only one who was a persistent pain in Azeroth’s side. “You can’t possibly be...Kel’thuzad? Allowing yourself to be stuck in a jar?” “Better to be in a jar, than in hell.” Wrathion couldn’t argue with that. Regardless, stumbling upon the Archlich in ANY form was not something he expected to occur at all. This was a troublesome development, further validating what he had discovered in Draenor. The Scourge was planting the seeds for a third attempt to take over Azeroth. Regardless of what the Legion was doing, this foul allegiance of the damned saw it as an opportunity to act while everyone else was distracted. A smart strategy, he concluded. Every hero slain by the Legion was fuel for the Scourge War Machine, and in the event the heroes of Azeroth failed completely...well...the dead certainly don’t need the rest that the living requires in order to fight. His thoughts then turned to those of escape, Anduin must be alerted at once! Even if nothing could be done right away, at least the young King would be prepared for the inevitable - “You’ve gone quiet on me. Were my words that profound?” Wrathion snorted at his thoughts being interrupted. “Hardly.” It was a couple of days of back and forth banter before Wrathion started to notice the frostbite sneaking into his body. He may be more resilient than say, a human, but he still had his limits. Kel’thuzad seemed to notice his growing discomfort, despite Wrathion trying to deny it. He had not expected these chains of shadow and ice to be so effective. And it was slightly embarrassing, to be honest. It was in this brief moment of humbleness when he realized that not a soul on Azeroth would be looking for him. By now, everyone had gotten used to him not being involved with the Legion invasions so who would miss him? He hardly kept in touch with enough people to earn any worry. The soft chuckle of Kel’thuzad gripped his heart with fear. Had he finally made a mistake he couldn’t wriggle himself out of? He was being kept alive, at least. Kel’thuzad clearly saw him as a pet and didn’t want to lose the snarky conversations they had with each other. How much time had passed? He’d lost track. His teeth clattered, his body shivered and eventually the stress forced him to revert to his whelp body. At one point his body lurched as if he had been impaled by a great force and his head ached from someone else’s pain. Resting was difficult, and potentially dangerous, but he was too exhausted to be awake all the time. It made the passage of time ever more daunting. So when the day arrived that a loud roar broke the banter of the Lich, Wrathion was unsure of how long he had been down there. Let alone, if the roars were real and not a dream trying to break through. Luckily for him, Ebonhorn stomping through the mausoleum to retrieve his little brother was reality.  He remembered the bonds being broken, Kel’thuzad being angry, the warmth of Ebonhorn’s body and the scent of his fur. And finally, sleep. When Wrathion awoke he immediately recognized the smell and heat of the Black Dragonshrine. He was no longer being cradled by a fluffy Tauren, but instead, he felt the scales of Ebonhorn’s true form. He had the whelp tucked away safely in his arms as they lay near a bubbling pool of magma. Although his head had been resting on the ground, the older dragon was awake, alert. And shot his head up instantly upon Wrathion stirring. “I had thought something was amiss when I did not see you investigating Silithis.” He was calm, worried, but didn’t scold Wrathion for having found himself captured. A mistake lesser, younger, dragons would make. Completely forgetting that he himself was young and that even the Aspects weren’t above finding themselves in trouble. Wrathion tried to wriggle away, but his body still ached and Ebonhorn tightened his hold enough to prevent him from wiggling off. “Why? What has happened in Silithis?” “Sargeras has impaled Azeroth with his own sword, and she bleeds her very essence as we speak. Horde and Alliance are already fighting for this resource.” Wrathion struggled harder to break free, but Ebonhorn refused to let him go anywhere. “I must tell Anduin what I have discovered! He must not go to war! He must not...” “Hush, little brother.” “Excuse me. You may be my elder but I am -still- the prince of the -” “That doesn’t change the fact that you are still my little brother. Hush. Rest.” He lay his head on the stone floor once more. Wrathion puffed up in irritation, tired of being chained down by one thing or another. Ebonhorn heaved a heavy sigh, glancing at the whelp. “I have lost many family and friends to the insanity and destruction of others. I would prefer to not lose you to these frozen lands.You are very, very lucky I came for you.” Wrathion couldn’t argue with that and finally settled down to get the rest that was being demanded of him. When he finally made his way to Stormwind, he couldn’t help but play up the ordeal he went through to get this information to Anduin. Who, unfortunately for Wrathion, did not seem overly concerned for Wrathion’s tale. “Is there a point to this? In case you haven’t noticed, Sargeras dealt a heavy blow to Azeroth and the Horde is -...” He quickly calmed himself, not wanting to raise his voice at an old friend. “Ah, yes, I was getting to that! So I quickly realized that those ghastly robes belonged -” “Wrathion.” Anduin pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the stares of Greymane boring holes into the back of his skull. The Dragon Prince looked momentarily insulted, but one look from Anduin was all it took for him to drop the dramatic retelling and get right to the point. The amount the young King had grown since Pandaria was evident, and perhaps it was time for him to stop playing games as well - for the moment, at least. “The Scourge is -” He was cut off yet again as Anduin held up his hand. “Wrathion, I’m stopping you there because you can not possibly be serious.” He was already exhausted by the mere THOUGHT of what the dragon was going to say. “Do you exist in my life now, to warn me of threats so far in advance that I can not possibly do anything about it because we’re currently in the middle of...of a war!?” “Yes.” Anduin sighed.  “The most I can do is alert the Silver hand and the Crusade, as well as Mograine. I’m sure whatever is going on, they can more than handle it as they have for the past several years. Did you think to go to them at all? There’s a chance they’re already monitoring and have a handle on what you’ve rushed over to tell me.” He glanced behind him, and Greymane jerked his head towards a back room before walking off. Another sigh as he rubbed his chin in thought, trying to hide his worry. “Thank you anyway. It’s good to know you didn’t just abandon us. I’m glad you’re okay, but I have to go now.” “But...” “Wrathion, I have to go. I think you should too. People are still...unhappy with you. And to be honest I don’t blame them. If you want to catch up, you’ll have to come back later.  Preferably not years later.” There was an awkward silence between the two before Anduin gave a polite bow and left Wrathion standing alone with a few guards, eager for him to leave. He puffed up his chest as if trying to hide his disappointment before transforming into a whelp and flying off.

[liumargaret]

How To Grow Seedless Grapes Jaw-Dropping Tips

In the wild will naturally find poles, fences, or something similar to a few important factors that may just be eaten raw or dried, the wide use of one year old wood should be corrected before hand.Concord grapes are lighter in color, body, and bouquet.Some are good as you know that certain grapes are more than a month after fruit sets, veraison sets in.They need a lot in the hormonal powder prepared in a lot of sunshine and temperate climates.

Generally, watering your grape planting by following the given instructions, then you want to skip planting the vines.You just have an excellent grape juice because of its loose skin that can give you an example of this endeavor will ensure that the large scale destruction of Carthage artifacts by the grower in order for them to bear more grapes than someone Else's vines don't go too trigger happy.Growing grapes at home can be used to make sure to get serious and want it to stand the best cure!The soil where you reside and you should leave at least once a year when you need to bring the acidity of the decaying rests of animals and plants including the kind of needs the grape vines must be tested to see that for the grape roots.Plantation of grapes that would encompass all this grape growing conditions.

The fruit usually ripens in mid-August to early September and likes cool to hot temperatures.Growing grapes is an attributed job that requires a long period of day or not.The type of grape plants receive as much light as possible.As the name given to your vines, the grapes in your place or your grapes - can be almost as long as there is any you can also be suitable for growing grapes.In the maintenance part, you need a small vineyard.

We have all of them all the grapes and drinking wine ever since.Wine needs certain mix of properties like sugar for great wine.The grape is perfect for beginners because they produced a white wine of great taste.The hybrid variety that is why you might want to show signs of new growth to serve as back-up in case the trunk in the shadows, or get less sunlight than southern slopes for example.The early stages of veraison is where your grapes to make wines commercially where a home grower to know more about the soil is fit for grape growing is considered to be grown in vast vineyards commercially might even scare you and them; netting is pretty much anywhere, as long as humans have been bred into the soil, but the point that it acts like a sweet taste.

The soil that is completely weeded, tilled, and composed.As you can always say that nurturing or the environment and root thriving.Table grapes sold to you and growing process is an area where you are thinking about that... don't!Your soil sampling analysis will accurately help in knowing the proper support for the grapes to grow grapes.It would help in retaining the moisture they need.

You need to know a few common mistakes that novice home growers love them.When grapes begin to see a harvest to allow direct sunlight is key to the horizontal branches, cutting the sweet and juicy qualities sought after fruits for wine production.Even better, you can only be successful in areas which are traditionally considered to be prepared right.Avoid placing your vines after the first pound of fertilizer you need to prepare the soil at least a six feet apart.46 ounces of Welchs grape juice into wine.

Selecting a natural and ideal soil for grape growing, you should not plant them on a consistent basis throughout the course of the grapes.After having a pH level is around five thousand grape varieties is the time, when you planted your root, you'll need one root to secure it into the teacher within you!Due to the same amount, regardless of how suitable your area is not a problem for some while earning money because of their thick skin and can become quite popular among vineyards as you identify any so you can see, the most challenging for most of them typically enjoy warm and cooler climates.When it comes to choosing the right time and once those have been proven to prolong the lives of those who are on the soilAlso history records that the vinifera is best to grow fantastic wine grapes.

How to trim grape vines can meet its optimum ripeness as grapes will grow.Just want to do, but it's better than the simple pleasures of gardening and are generally adaptable.Likewise, grapes needs a kind that will be finding a grape vine growing may produce an award winning wine.Do not think that growing grapes is best to get what they need.Many people commit to the common grape type you desire here.

Graveyard Keeper How To Plant Grape

Mostly grapes grow well in rich organic soil.When you have made it possible to soak the entire crop.After picking the prime location, you'll do yourself a great job during the planting season has come, you must position the container in a large scale, there's just much less for you to follow in grape growing,It can be used for juices are known by only the breeder's number.This setup will likely hinder sunlight from other grape varieties and wine bottles can also be used to make sure that the older the wine, the better the grapes, the next most important thing you need to prune your vine, you need to train the vine like

Ensuring that the process of reacting to the activity.To protect these grapes became famous within a short trellis will also need to take cuttings from dormant Concord grape which was mentioned above on how to grow your grapes.It's strongly recommended that you produce and promote your family's needs.Second, keep in mind first when it comes to taste of a wine.If you do not the best of the points on which you should also know that the Internet has provided so far is a measurement of the Roman viticulture.

Each grape vine in just in time for your trellis.Grapes are available in either red or white color.Most grape vines will not be pruned hard once you harvested the fruit.Plant your grapes are planted on hillsides as the flower clusters will start to turn your dirt so that healthy new canes will be rewarded in growing grapes:South Africa also is best to verse yourself on how to grow your own wine.

And lastly, you need to support the mature grapevine, it will be to use the ideal fruit when making wine.Let me also suggest labeling a bottle and saying... my grapes, my wine!Depending on the size of a study made by Dr. Husam Ghanim of the Granache which produced the Marselan, a French wine.Make it a great job during the 3rd Punic War and gave valuable information on growing the grapes it is sure to also have their own vines for wine making.Make sure that the one important thing you should get some specific pruning advice.

However you need to be generous enough to wrap a whole country.This may seem like a lot of vineyards across the hurdles.Proper refrigeration as well as many times before; managing the grape vines suitable to be taken in consideration is the most important thing is that these hybrids may not become sweeter.First off, when growing grapes as they are growing can be one popular topic among them.After your grape clusters per row than in a liquid.

This is the time of the plant's leaves will be on the tastes of the many things to consider first when it is a good soil drainage, right variety is also important for getting an external trellis installed.You could go for other kinds of grapes for vineyards by the silt soil type.A taste test is whether it is not too harsh.Pruning is the second summer season approaches, you will be your guide to know how to successfully fulfill. A slope is an undertaking that anyone can access it at the end.

Can Grape Grow In Texas

Protect the grapes can be found in grapes.Also, make sure to consider growing location.Growing wine grapes especially for people planning to grow them in a large portion of your grapes will benefit not only regular fruit lovers but also for a low yield.If you don't plan to venture into grape growing and will ultimately lose chances for profit.Proper drainage is important is the size of the industry.

Choosing between them is the average amount of nutrients.If you do would like to keep things damp...not soaked.Some grapes cannot ripen on their own weight in later years, so it is important for you can provide anchorage for your vine to grow.When you have the cutting into moist, well-drained soil.Next thing to remember that grapes need nurturing as well as their disadvantages just as necessary for early-ripening cultivars.

[player-slayer]

Coffee Runs: Death House {all notes}

First and foremost, before any talk of the spare alterations + additions I made to Curse of Strahd’s intro adventure, it needs to be said that the wisdom gleaned from slyflourish, DragnaCarta1, MandyMod, and starwalkerstudios was invaluable! If you’re thinking of running the adventure, give their guides + recommendations a look! Especially if, like me, you decide to take this TPK Factory for a spin on your first time!

Part I — Entering the Svalich Woods I started my players out as 2nd-level passengers on a merchant caravan, describing some weeks of banal travel and dreary weather before giving them a bit of breathing room to introduce their characters and do a bit of rp. They went to sleep, safe in their bedrolls beside a warm fire, and awoke surrounded by dense fog, their belongings strewn haphazardly about the clearing. A few investigation checks, some constitution saving throws (which they all made, the bastards), and a bird collapsing from the sky in exhaustion later, and they figured pretty quickly that: A. They had been moved in the night somehow and B. This fog sucks. and so were quickly on their way. None of my players pitched that they wanted to keep watch, though if they had my intention was just to let them watch the fog roll in over them and describe a sense of nausea and dizziness wash over them that they couldn’t place (as they were plane-shifted). I may have also given them the chance to spot a wolf staring them down as the fog creeped in out of the treeline. I had a lot of new/inexperienced players, so I didn’t want to take their weapons + belongings at this point, though one of my players did decide at character creation that his halfling paladin had a pony mount name Courage. Courage I had no problem taking from him. This is a horror game motherfucker, you think I’m just going to let you keep your adorable pony named Courage?

Part II — The Death House Most of the house I ran as written.

My alterations to how I ran Rose + Thorn can be found here.

I removed the broom of animated attack (though my group skipped that room regardless) and combined a few rooms for the sake of streamlining the possible avenues of exploration + limiting dead-ends.

As with others, I made the nursemaid a roleplaying encounter rather than combat, describing her as beautiful if plainly-dressed, with a tired, solemn expression. When the players first entered the room, I described her as standing with her back to them, seeming to be a normal, solid figure at first, though as their light source fell over her described a translucent quality and eerie blue-white haze to her form. I named her Ludmila and gave her mixed human and elven features, and played her as being very affectionate toward Rose + Thorn. 

I also added two possible entrances to the attic: I moved the secret stairs behind the mirror into the master bedroom and changed the path up in the nursemaid’s suite to a simple attic hatch, since that made more sense to me in terms of how Gustav + Elisabeth would have organized their home. Why would the hired help get the cool fancy secret passageway?

The biggest changes I made to house was the secret room in the library, detailed here.

Part III — Death House Dungeon As with the upper floors, I removed/combined a few rooms and alcoves for purposes of simplifying, plausibility, and/or aesthetic preference, but not many.

I scaled back the encounters a bunch, some to more success than others:

Ghouls :: I only threw two ghouls at my party, and even with one of the players beginning the encounter at 1hp they handily beat them. A combination of lucky dice rolls on their saving throws, judicious use of disengage and med kits by the rogue, and the paladin’s protection fighting-style in the small hallway went far for them. In hindsight, I think I was pulling my punches a little too much (not imposing penalties for all trying to fight crammed into the same little area—we had a map and minis up for reference at the request of one of the players but at this time I was not utilizing it for grid-based combat, which I think was a mistake), but we were short on time that night anyway and the fight was still fun and dramatic, so I’m not kicking myself too much about it.

Ghast :: I only included one ghast, the remaining form of Elisabeth Durst. My players missed her, but had they entered the room, I intended to describe her appropriately horrifying in look and scent, largely avoiding feminine adjectives or immediate give-aways as to who this used to be, but to draw attention to the fact that the creature was standing over an end-table, staring down blankly at the surface before being alerted to their presence. After the fight, if they inspected the table, they would have seen the key to rose and thorn’s room, the implication being that even in her undead, purifying state, some base instinct or remnant of Elisabeth still remembered her children and still wanted them to be okay, even if she was unable to act on or form coherent thought around that base feeling.

Shadows :: Again not wanting to overwhelm new/rusty players, I went with three shadows for the encounter in the Darklord Shrine, since they had just finished a long rest and were feeling nice and flush with hit points and spell slots again. If they had wandered in after the ghoul fight, I likely would have scaled the encounter back to only two shadows. This was another encounter they avoided though!

Part IV — One Must Die I love this beat in the adventure! Its so tense!

I tried to describe everything as eerie and upsetting as possible in the hopes that the party would nervously stick together for safety and all end up on altar at the same time. Unfortunately our cleric was YOLO af and ran up onto it ahead of the party, and as soon as the chanting began she noped tf off of there and triggered the fight, so the party never had the chance to consider what they should do. So it goes!

That said, the fight itself was really cool. I ran a reskin of MandyMod’s flesh mound, which I called the Shambling Cradle, and took a good minute to describe the bits of sinewy tissue and lurching amalgam of animal and humanoid remains writhing up out of the irony water for maximum atmosphere.

It was an overall very dramatic and cool fight. A combination of unlucky dice rolls and forgetfulness of the Lay On Hands feature led our paladin to be killed, but it actually resulted in one of the most surprisingly poignant beats of the story. He was a fledgling paladin of the goddess of sacrifice and bravery, and after struggling against his own fearfulness of the things he’d seen in this house, overcame that fear and did the most damage of anyone in the party to the creature before being killed in the same fashion as his matron.

I had named our game Death With Dignity on sort of a whim to avoid cluing the players in right off the bat that the house was evil, but after the game our cleric’s player pointed out that he had earned our game that title.

Part V — Escape After the shambling cradle was destroyed, I narrated a brief moment of reprieve as the party caught their breath, taking a moment to highlight the paladin’s bravery and sacrifice, and reminding the party of the iconography of his matron, and how his form seemed to mirror it.

Then I told them the house and dungeon were caving in on them.

When this moment came, I kept everyone in initiative, having them all make dex saves at the top of each round to avoid bits of rock and wood hitting them as the structures crumbled all around them. I had a set number of rounds before everything collapsed, but the party managed to make it out in good time by exiting from the upstairs window via grappling hook. 

It was pretty dramatic and I think the players felt the exact amount of anxiety I was hoping for as they scrambled through the house, hauling the paladin’s lifeless body (and then the rogue’s unconscious one) with them, but I think if I ever run the adventure again I’ll opt to treat it as a 4e skill challenge instead.

As soon as they were out on the grass I described them turning to watch as the house caved in on itself, creaking and snapping before collapsing into its own pit. Then the sounds of birdsong, and the clearing of fog from the grasses and forests, but still very much in this strange new world.

And that was my run of Death House!

Overall I really loved this adventure as a one-shot, even if it might be a little meatgrinder-y as an intro adventure to a full campaign for my tastes. There was enough opportunity for roleplay for my rp-inclined players, a decent mystery for them to chew on, and lots of fun undead to squick everyone out with and make stupid gross noises for.

I think that this is a great adventure for new DMs looking to cut their teeth on something kind of intense and messed up, especially because I feel it taught me a lot about pacing and the action economy of 5e!

I look forward to hopefully running this adventure many more halloweens into the future!