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[axl-reality]

sunday and robin as sirens for mermay...

[axl-reality]

Play for FREE at itch.io

Dead Plate is a short 2D restaurant tycoon themed rpg horror game with visual novel and point-and-click elements  set in 1960s France following the story of a lively waiter named Rody trying to make as much money as possible in a week at a fancy bistro owned by a charismatic and successful chef, Vince.

🍽️ Development &  Story &  Graphics 🍽️ :: RachelDrawsThis :: @ekrixart

🍷 Composer & Sound Designer 🍷 :: BellKalengar

🥩 Features 🥩 :: Original soundtrack :: 70+ CGs and 8+ maps :: Classic restaurant tycoon styled gameplay :: Character-driven story with 8k+ of dialogue

⏲️ Estimated Play Time ⏲️ :: 1 hour  20 ~ 30 minutes for an ending :: Up to 3 hours in total for completion

🔥  NUMBER OF ENDINGS  🔥 :: 4 (+ Different dialogues and hidden secrets/details)

Reblogs and tips are greatly appreciated!

[axl-reality]

Nayuta..

[axl-reality]

I just pop right in when I read the comment. Haha. Yes, IDK how to use tumblr. Help me

[axl-reality]

Thank you :)

My favorite JakuRamu fanfic ever has just gotten its final chapter updated!

— Disclaimer, this is not my fanfiction! I’m just a verry devoted reader!! 💓 All credits to the author!!!

I started rereading it, it is beautiful beyond the words and if you want my essays on why it is the most beautiful and heart-touching fic ever and how blessed I am that the author has updated to the end of it, check the AO3 comments. 💓 This is DEFINITELY worth reading, ever more so with the eventual happy ending!

[axl-reality]

!Alike

"Jakurai is so big," Ramuda mutters, deep in thought, placing both of his palms together and imagining a bigger warmer pair covering it. Jakurai's hands are a few centimeters larger than his own if his memory serves him right. Whenever they hold hands, the other's fingers can easily reach up to his wrist while his fingers barely cover the back of Jakurai's hand.

His arms are far more defined than his; his legs are sculpted compared to Ramuda's thin limbs. With his damned height, Ramuda always has to be on his toes... literally. He can't even steal a kiss on the other cheek without stretching his back straight, neck popping in strain.

His shoulders are wider, seams of his shirts fit taut unlike how the same article of clothing drapes like a cloak on Ramuda's body. The hem falls halfway the Designer's thighs while it barely reaches the Doctor's hips when he's the one wearing it.

Ramuda sighs, casting his gaze on the mirror. Reflected there is his small and lithe figure, dressed in an oversized shirt clearly not his own. His mind chooses to linger on the stark difference in their builds.

The said arms snake around his midriff. Back curved into a perfect arc to accommodate the short plane where a chiseled chin rests, Jakurai asks: "is something bothering you, Ramuda-kun?"

The smaller man turns towards the man who unfortunately distances himself before Ramuda could steal a kiss. The Doctor once again stands tall, defined muscles and a few light scars in plain view now that he lacks a shirt. It once again reminds the Designer of their differences but instead of a grimace, a smile graces his features.

Even being polar opposites, they complement each other, a part of his mind supplies.

His fingers are small enough to sift through the finest of kinks in Jakurai's hair. He fits snugly inside the Doctor's embrace, warming the bigger body using his own. The taller man leans down to kiss him, hair cascading down to serve as a screen to keep his azure eyes locked and secured in his Cerulean gaze.

"Nothing," Ramuda finally responds. "I just thought Jakurai is so big."

He's a few steps away but he could hear, loud and clear, how Jakurai's breath hitches. Red creeps from his neck to his forehead, big hands attempting to cover it are no use since Ramuda long committed the image to his memory.

"Could you please say it again," Jakurai manages to say. "Without looking at my crotch?"

[axl-reality]

Sky Telephone

Right in the middle of the sea of white clouds lies a black phone booth. Inside the booth, a white telephone, much like the ones the world of the living uses, is there. It has no wires connected to it but every now and then it rings. The soul, whose call belongs to, will be summoned before it. Most souls received at least one call. Amemura Ramuda... the rest of the Amemura Ramudas... do not belong to that group of lucky people.

Created to fulfil and to perish for that single one function, they have no parents or siblings who will grieve for them. There was one however, but he is not their sibling or anything like that but a part of the same person — eldest one.

He remembers everyone that passed, every part of him that met their end due to a predetermined fate. He cried silent tears for them, the only one who could. He may not dwell on their passing that much, but he never treated them as a separate entity from his own. Their sins are also his, he carried the burden 'til rest of his days.

For sure his friends grieve for him, hopefully his previous teammates and the rest of Shibuya, too. He never expects them to give him a call though, he'd rather see them living the most out of their lives not wallow in pain of losing a friend forever. And yet, he finds himself standing before the ringing phone that only has a receiver.

Someone giving him a one-way call makes his now empty chest a familiar squeeze. Who might it be? Gentaro? Dice?

Grabbing the handset, he placed the receiver close to his ear. A rich voice echoes. A soothing voice that never fails to calm his senses at the same time sends his heart into great turmoil.

[Hello, Amemura-kun. How are you?]

Why of all the people is Jakurai calling him?

[Things have been slowing down at the hospital and I am able to take a break... technically nagged into taking one.] Jakurai starts telling his day, much like the talks Ramuda always begged for him to do. [Hifumi and Doppo won't stop telling me I should rest and so I thought I would give you a phone call today.]

This sure brings back memories of those countless outings, dates and excursions. Those bright and warm days Ramuda longed to return to. They fill the former fashion Designer with so much glee and giddiness, feelings he never knew he would miss now that he's gone. Even if he's still back there, he doubts he can feel the same amount of bliss as those moments hold.

[I had a haircut. Perhaps after having it stuck through various places, I decided that it became too much to maintain.] Ramuda's attention snaps back at Jakurai. The Jinguji Jakurai who, no matter how many limbs and things get stuck in his hair never cut it, is now having his locks cut short? What?! [Or so I thought the reason is really that. I know how much you loved my long hair, right in the deepest parts of my mind, perhaps I hope you would come and attack me with your most venomous phrases. I would love to hear your voice, even if it'll end badly for me.]

Jakurai pauses again as the sound of something scratching through fabric Ramuda recognizes as someone looking for something in their bag. His voice broke towards the end of his speech, is there something blocking Jakurai's throat?

[I cleaned my house earlier and found the bag that had been a victim of your ruthless world coloring. I also found some patches lying around so I added them on.] The Doctor swiftly changes the topic, averting his eyes from the emotions that came with it. Ramuda too, decides to store the feelings away for the meantime to listen to him. [It isn't that hard to sew patches. Even so, your hands are always wounded by the time you finish adding some to this bag. Why is that?]

"It's because my hand is too clumsy to hold a needle," the former fashion Designer answers. For once, he believed Jakurai would somehow arrive at the insanely correct and accurate answer as he always does. The man always figured him out, there's no way he would fail to notice the real reason. "I lied, okay? It's always because I get conscious whenever you watch me with those eyes filled with interest."

Except at this moment, Jakurai didn't know the reason behind Ramuda's clumsiness. [I guess I will never know.] Rather, he's no longer there to give him a clue for Jakurai to figure out what his reasons are.

Ramuda freezes. The truth he always shunned away comes back haunting him.

He has already passed away. Gone from the world of the living. But the bonds he forged will always bring pain and other complicated feelings once severed, both to the ones left behind and the ones who left.

He has unknowingly shut his heart off from the emotions he doesn't know how to process that it never dawned on him earlier that there are things he can never do again, people he can never be with once more. He left far too many things unfinished, left Jakurai hanging with no way to fix anything. He ran away, still running away up to this point. Ramuda is already dead but he feels like dying once again.

[Come back] Jakurai's voice rings too meek, small and aching. How many times does he plan to murder Ramuda with feelings and that longing voice? [Come back to me, Ramuda-kun. Please, I will not overlook things again. I will listen to you; I won't condemn you again without putting myself in your shoes. Please. Please, please, please Ramuda-kun, come back to me.]

"Ja... Jakurai...!" Ramuda cries out, as loud as he can, hoping that his voice can reach his beloved's ears. There's no way it'll go through as the phone has no transmitter and yet he yells. "I want to come back to Jakurai, too! I want to fix things up between us!

"I'm sorry I pushed you away! I am so scared, hurt. I don't want to get hurt again! BUT THE TRUTH IS I WISH I HUGGED YOU INSTEAD! I MISS YOUR WARMTH! AND I REALLY, BADLY WANTED TO KISS YOU!"

He knows everything is too late, that he will carry this added burden until he and Jakurai reunite. He can't even figure his feelings out. He just wants to see Jakurai. Again. If it's not possible, at least, please let them talk.

Ramuda never wished for something to happen so bad tears just flowed down his cerulean eyes. Just this once, please! Perhaps now that he's closer to the divine, his prayers are finally answered.

[R-Ramuda-kun?] A bewildered Jakurai asks through the line.

"You can hear me?" Ramuda asks. Is he imagining things or did Jakurai—

[Yes, Is this really you?]

"Yep!" Ramuda beams, smiling through the tears no longer of sadness but of joy. "The one and only, Shibuya's Idol Amemura Ramuda!" As he finishes his impromptu intro, he hears something dropping on the other side of the line that sounds like a man collapsing on his illegally long legs and knees. "Jakurai?"

[I love you Ramuda-kun.] Jakurai suddenly bLurts out. [I really do. I will love you for the rest of my life!]

Even if the confession is sudden, it never felt weird or surprising. It has always been an open secret that none of the two dared to openly discuss.

"I know," he gives him an airy laugh. "But Jakurai, it's really funny that you're confessing to a dead person."

[It is but h-how about you? Are you also...?]

Eh? He asks for Ramuda's response now?

"I hate you. I loathe you until here in the afterlife..." Voice dropping down a few octaves, he answers with such venom poisonous enough to hear the other man gasp. A sly grin curves on Ramuda's lips, knowing that he still has these convincing acting skills. "...is not what you should be hearing. I wanted to look after you, get cherished by you, destroy you and even bury you with my own hands.

"You gave me complex feelings I can't understand well. I thought you broke me with them but you made me human instead. Thank you.

"I don't know what I am feeling for you is what humans define as love though. But, if wanting to still be alive and being given one last time just to see you can be considered as love, then I really, really, really love Jakurai."

Ah, the words he never got to say flowed from his lips to the transmitter to be received by Jakurai. It feels light, like he finally admitted something important, acknowledged. He can let go of it at the same time hold on to a promise it also brings.

"I can't be there with you anymore but I will be waiting for you here instead. Let's go on dates again. Ah don't come here too soon though. Grow so, so, so old like the coot that you are. I don't want to see your face until you're all wrinkly and dry."

[Ramuda-kun...]

"Don't show that shortened hair to me, I will push you down to hell if I see it." Jakurai finally laughs. Ramuda missed it dearly but he knows he'll hear it live and personal after this miraculous call ends. "So, Jakurai, you can hang up now. We'll see each other again."

[See you, Ramuda-kun.]

Peeling the handset off him and placing it back to its holder, Ramuda finds himself transported back where his other selves are. He holds his hood in place as a strong gust of wind sweeps anything it comes into contact with. Ramuda smiles, peering into the endless sea of clouds. He's a man on a new mission — to look for the best spots to hold dates.

[axl-reality]

Wind Telephone

One of the many visitors of the Wind telephone, is a prominently tall man. He wears a white coat, with a startling similarity to a lab gown worn by doctors. His hair of ash and lilac is cut right below his ears with side fringes hanging longer than the rest of his hair. To strangers, he seems to be a man trying to do styles for younger men. To friends and family, he is a grieving man chasing after the shadows of his departed beau.

He walks on the path filled with beautiful flowers. If that person sees them, for sure he'll run around, voicing out how the field inspired him in some way or another.

Jinguji Jakurai smiles, another one that never reached such azure eyes that lost its gleeful glimmer.

He clutches his sling bag studded with various patches. A part is sewn by a pink haired man who insists his bag needs a splash of color, the rest placed by his own hands. Jakurai looks at his hands, pristine if not a bit dry. He never understood how a fashion designer like Ramuda can acquire too many scars from pin pricks when it's his job to sew and design. Perhaps he will ask him today?

A white colored phone booth comes into view. Well maintained without a single glass pane missing. The wind blows hard as Jakurai approaches it. Just for today, he can feel like his message will be relayed properly.

He takes the handset and places it between his cheeks and shoulder. There is no dial tone yet he lets a long finger slot on one number hole, rotating the dial until he hears a bell.

03-XXXX-XXXX

He dials the number he memorized long ago. A certain phone number, although deleted on his register, still remained fresh in his mind.

He waits one second before speaking.

"Hello, Amemura-kun. How are you?" Nothing resembling Ramuda's voice echoed through the receiver. "Things have been slowing down at the hospital and I am able to take a break... technically nagged into taking one. Hifumi and Doppo won't stop telling me I should rest and so I thought I would give you a phone call today.

"I had a haircut. Perhaps after having it stuck through various places, I decided that it became too much to maintain." Jakurai pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Or so I thought the reason is really that. I know how much you loved my long hair, right in the deepest parts of my mind, perhaps I hope you would come and attack me with your most venomous phrases. I would love to hear your voice, even if it'll end badly for me."

There seems to be something weighing down on his throat that his voice hitches. From his bag, he reaches for bottled water. Even after emptying it, the lump remains yet he has to continue to call.

"I cleaned my house earlier and found the bag that had been a victim of your ruthless world coloring. I also found some patches lying around so I added them on." The Doctor lifts the bag, as if showing it off. "It isn't that hard to sew patches. Even so, your hands are always wounded by the time you finish adding some to this bag. Why is that?"

He pauses once again, waiting for a certain man's voice to echo on the receiver. Will he hear the voice today? That gentle chuckle that used to caress his senses? That taunting voice that not only makes his patience thin but also tug on his heart in various ways? 

Still there is no voice. Only the wind rattling on the old phone booth answers him. And it's the one he never wishes to hear.

"I guess I will never know."

The view of the connectionless phone blurs, lines of damp warmth flow from Jakurai's eyes down his cheeks and chin. He touches it then realizes that he is crying.

"Come back," Jakurai squeaks out, facade washed away by tears. "Come back to me, Ramuda-kun. Please, I will not overlook things again. I will listen to you; I won't condemn you again without putting myself in your shoes. Please."

He longs to touch those scared fingers, slide his own between those cold digits. He wants to feel that foreign, almost nonexistent weight pressing on his shoulder. Once more, let him see those marble cerulean eyes promising him limitless excitement.

"Please, please, please," like a broken machine, Jakurai mimicked how Doppo makes his apologies. He right now however, is a more desperate, grief-stricken, and annoying version of it. He just goes spiraling down the memories associated with these feelings.

Ramuda's hand felt hot as it slapped him. His angry voice thundered through his body as it refused all the help he offered. Jakurai was too late, Ramuda didn't need him anymore. Time felt like moments later, Ramuda was no more.

Had he insisted on offering his help, would Ramuda accept it? Had he pursued him earlier, would he and the fashion designer reconcile?

"Ramuda-kun, come back to me," Jakurai's cries echo through the glass panels of the phone booth, yelling into the transmitter with hopes his voice will reach the soul that is probably in the heavens now. In his grief, he imagines that a static yet cheery voice finally rings from the receiver. 

[axl-reality]

Ramuda's (Jakurai's) Medical Kit

Jinguji Jakurai begrudgingly stares at the lone tin of green tea sitting atop Amemura Ramuda's cupboards. For someone of that fashion Designer's height, he cannot believe that the pink devil would be able to put it in a place so high. It must be the Novelist, he thinks as he grabs the stepping stool near the counter below the cupboards.

As much as Jakurai likes the fact that he no longer hits any low altitude structure, he also doesn't rejoice on the fact that most of the things are unreachable. Temper housed in a smaller body, he also finds himself quite irritable with most things. He begins to wonder how Ramuda can handle his temper. Or perhaps the man is more adept at keeping it to himself. The thought of that person hiding his true feelings leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Before he can delve into it deeper, a loud banging of Ramuda's door snaps him out of it. Leaving the tea on the table, he rushes towards the office only to see the rest of Fling Posse with the Novelist carrying the Gambler on his shoulder. Lips bleeding from the small cut on its corner while there are blooming bruises all over his face, it warrants panic from the Doctor.

"What happened to you?" A voice unstrained to raise its pitch to an annoying level, it still startles Jakurai as it is not his usual baritone one. His shock gets even more intensified as Yumeno Gentaro haphazardly drops Arisugawa Dice on the floor.

"It's the usual casino night," Dice responds, struggling to get himself seated beside Gentaro who made himself home on one of Ramuda's couches. "Patch me up like the usual, Ramuda."

"I am not Amemura-kun but yes, I will still tend to your wounds." With a sharp spin of his heel, Jakurai locates the medical kit he and Ramuda bought ages ago. Spotting the old plastic box studded with various stickers, he pried it open, surprised to see the supplies inside as complete as the first time they bought it. Struggling to bring his focus back on the matter on hand, he returns to the office.

As he patches up the wincing Gambler, the Novelist finally opens his mouth to converse.  "I'm quite surprised you don't need to ask where the kit is." Nothing passes unnoticed in those eyes that love to observe people. "And the way to treat Dice is also similar to how Ramuda does it. Did you teach our dear leader?" At some point he is similar to Jakurai but in a sense that Gentaro isn't choosy with his subjects. He takes a piece of everyone to spin interesting tales about them while Jakurai picks only a select few, waiting to unravel something interesting for Jakurai to see.

"Amemura-kun and I were previously teammates. It's natural that he picks up some useful traits from." At his response, the Novelist hums.

"It's like the two of you are identical yet different. Just as how your lilac hair is of the same hue as Ramuda's hair tips but on different saturation." Gentaro hides his smile behind his sleeve, eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know every nook and cranny of Ramuda's home, perhaps Ramuda shared something only to you as well."

Silence drapes over them like a heavy blanket. Eyes of emerald and azure test each other out in a contest of electrocuting stares. It might've lingered longer if not for a shrill noise coming from the Gambler.

"GENTARO, STOP PROVOKING THE DOCTOR!" Dice screams, squirming away from Jakurai who pressed the cotton ball way too hard on his broken skin. Jakurai mutters soft apologies under his breath, quickly wrapping his wounds with the gauze.

"I'm just gathering information for my upcoming novel, pardon me if I riled you up a bit too much." Jakurai can sense no remorse in his apology yet he accepts it regardless.

"Unlike what you wanted to hear, Amemura-kun didn't share more of himself than necessary. Since it is too late for us, all I can do is to hope that he finds someone he can openly lay his heart open to," Jakurai says, tiny hands gathering the supplies back into its case. "Can I... assume you two will be those people for Amemura-kun?"

"You don't have to assume, we will be for Ramuda," Dice, without missing a beat, declares. "Right, Gentaro?"

"I may have only thought of him as an interesting specimen," Gentaro says, now letting a beat pass before adding. "That's a lie of course."

"And soon you can also call him "Ramuda" again, Doc," the Gambler adds, not letting the Doctor think that there is no room for the two to reconcile even if Ramuda has let more people into his walls.

"Too early to give up, Jinguji-sensei," the Novelist supplies.

"Alright..." The Doctor gives up. These two are way pushier than Doppo and Hifumi.

Ramuda has... really nice friends.

[axl-reality]

"How can Ichiro stand this?" Aohitsugi Samatoki lets out a nicotine free sigh, feeling some goosebumps as the voice coming out of his throat sounds like the one the leader of Buster Bros!!!, Yamada Ichiro owns.

Until now, he couldn't believe that whenever he stares at the mirror, the face of his enemy will be reflected before him. Instead of being alone in his flat, he lives with Ichro's two brothers who don't stop arguing every single change they get.

"I WILL BE THE ONE COOKING!" The second eldest, Jiro, yells.

"OHO, YOU SURE YOU CAN?" The youngest, Saburo, yells back.

"I CAN!"

"YOU CAN BUT I DON'T TRUST YOUR COOKING!"

"WHAT THE--?!"

He looks over the freshly chopped vegetables on the counter; the sound of boiling water bubbling silent compared to the arguing children and the stomachs rumbling. Samatoki is stressed out and hungry, suffering from withdrawal symptoms (mentally at least) and a headache from the noise which doesn't tone down no matter how hard he tries to ignore it.

"Aaaaaaaaaarg! SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU TWO!" Finally paying attention to their visitor(?), the two momentarily stop bickering. "I'll be the one cooking; you two fix the fucking table."

It must be Ichiro's face acting like a charm that the two follow him silently. He finally turns his back on them,grabbing the red apron hanging from the rack, and starts cooking curry. He makes servings more than the three of them can eat, denying the fact that he finds it fun to cook again for someone else.

Taking the pot towards the table, he sees the two seated right in front of each other, glaring but never breaks into another argument. Wordlessly, he takes their plates and serves them with the curry.

"Oi Saburo, take a bite first," Jiro urges, looking at the plate of curry before them.

"Stupid, aren't you the older one here. You eat first, Onii-chan."

"You--!"

"Don't fight on the table," Samatoki chides, taking a bite. The spice bites backs agressively and putting his mouth on fire; Oh fuck, he made it too spicy. Ah well whatever. "It's spicy. If you two are men, ya won't mind, would you?"

A challenge offered with a smirk, worse with their esteemed brother's face, the two readily accept the challenge. Halfway from finishing their servings, Jiro is already red, Saburo sweating profusely minutes before him. Despite the heat, they seem to enjoy the curry, asking him for seconds.

"Oi shitty Yakuza, eat too," Jiro says, downing the glass of water Samatoki slid over his side after his third serving.

"You're inside Ichi-nii's body so you better take care of it," Saburo supplies, taking his plate back after Samatoki gave him another serving. Lips curving into a smug smile, he adds while pointing at the neglected pile of potatoes and carrots on the Yakuza's plate: "if you're a man, you're gonna eat your veggies."

This brat.. . He knows so fucking well how to stir Samatoki up as well. "Bring it on!" He gives in to the youngest's taunt, missing the fact that the two of them are secretly thanking him for the nice meal.

[axl-reality]

Ichiro's (Samatoki's) Curry

"How can Ichiro stand this?" Aohitsugi Samatoki lets out a nicotine free sigh, feeling some goosebumps as the voice coming out of his throat sounds like the one the leader of Buster Bros!!!, Yamada Ichiro owns.

Until now, he couldn't believe that whenever he stares at the mirror, the face of his enemy will be reflected before him. Instead of being alone in his flat, he lives with Ichro's two brothers who don't stop arguing every single change they get.

"I WILL BE THE ONE COOKING!" The second eldest, Jiro, yells.

"OHO, YOU SURE YOU CAN?" The youngest, Saburo, yells back.

"I CAN!"

"YOU CAN BUT I DON'T TRUST YOUR COOKING!"

"WHAT THE--?!"

He looks over the freshly chopped vegetables on the counter; the sound of boiling water bubbling silent compared to the arguing children and the stomachs rumbling. Samatoki is stressed out and hungry, suffering from withdrawal symptoms (mentally at least) and a headache from the noise which doesn't tone down no matter how hard he tries to ignore it.

"Aaaaaaaaaarg! SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU TWO!" Finally paying attention to their visitor(?), the two momentarily stop bickering. "I'll be the one cooking; you two fix the fucking table."

It must be Ichiro's face acting like a charm that the two follow him silently. He finally turns his back on them,grabbing the red apron hanging from the rack, and starts cooking curry. He makes servings more than the three of them can eat, denying the fact that he finds it fun to cook again for someone else.

Taking the pot towards the table, he sees the two seated right in front of each other, glaring but never breaks into another argument. Wordlessly, he takes their plates and serves them with the curry.

"Oi Saburo, take a bite first," Jiro urges, looking at the plate of curry before them.

"Stupid, aren't you the older one here. You eat first, Onii-chan."

"You--!"

"Don't fight on the table," Samatoki chides, taking a bite. The spice bites backs agressively and putting his mouth on fire; Oh fuck, he made it too spicy. Ah well whatever. "It's spicy. If you two are men, ya won't mind, would you?"

A challenge offered with a smirk, worse with their esteemed brother's face, the two readily accept the challenge. Halfway from finishing their servings, Jiro is already red, Saburo sweating profusely minutes before him. Despite the heat, they seem to enjoy the curry, asking him for seconds.

"Oi shitty Yakuza, eat too," Jiro says, downing the glass of water Samatoki slid over his side after his third serving.

"You're inside Ichi-nii's body so you better take care of it," Saburo supplies, taking his plate back after Samatoki gave him another serving. Lips curving into a smug smile, he adds while pointing at the neglected pile of potatoes and carrots on the Yakuza's plate: "if you're a man, you're gonna eat your veggies."

This brat.. . He knows so fucking well how to stir Samatoki up as well. "Bring it on!" He gives in to the youngest's taunt, missing the fact that the two of them are secretly thanking him for the nice meal.

[axl-reality]

!Cerulean

A lone figure clothed in pastel blue fabric stands against 17 more figures. Eyes blank, he continues to utter strong verses over his candy mic. Retaliating attacks rain down on him like a hurricane, no amount of damage coming from them can take down the raging Fashion designer. Fatigue making their determination waver, their phrases become dull.

Unable to withstand the damage as well as this pitiful sight, Amayado Rei calls for Jinguji Jakurai’s attention. “Jinguji! Hit Amemura with your strongest healing phrase!” The Doctor raises an eyebrow as he cannot comprehend the illogical action. Why does he have to heal someone they’re supposed to wear down? “If you don’t want him to die, heal him!”

At a moment’s pause, the Doctor is able to see their opponent clearly. Tears flowing down his marble-like eyes evidently shows the pain caused by the noise trying to completely override his mind. Ramuda, at a loss for action as all of the rappers stopped to process his situation, screams. He seems to be trying to convey something, asking perhaps them to save him from what’s controlling him but unable to do so.

For once, his real predicament openly displays itself. Just this once will he truly be able to help Ramuda.

Jakurai decides to go with Rei’s instruction. “Hifumi-kun, Doppo-kun, please cover me. I’ll heal him,” he says, formulating his strongest healing verse.

The Host and Salaryman nod, making a combi attack before Jakurai steps in. His deep yet soothing voice silences the noise grating Ramuda’s sanity. It undoes not just the women’s, but also the special hypnosis casted on him.

The petite man screams again before falling down. Jakurai rushes over but there’s someone who runs faster than him. Rei catches Ramuda’s body before it meets the cold concrete.

He immediately checks the Fashion designer’s pulse - it is still. “Damn! You cannot die this way, Amemura!” He pulls up Ramuda’s sleeve, revealing its skin studded with multiple needle punches. He produces syringes with liquids of various colours then injects all of it into that thin arm.

“Amayado-dono, what are you doing to Ramuda?” Gentaro asks, voice shaking in terror. The Conman knows that the division representatives surround him even if he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Ramuda.

“If he dies, we’re all dead.” He just drops an answer that leads to a whole lot of questions. And Gentaro is just to ask recite them aloud when they hear coughing fits coming from their leader. Calls of concern flood from the Gambler and Novelist as his eyes flicker open, catch their gazes with his oddly cerise eyes before closing them again. “Let’s take him somewhere safe.” The Conman lifts he Fashion designer up, taking him along with the rest towards the only safe haven for the men’s faction - Jinguji Jakurai’s Clinic.

Waiting for the Fashion designer to regain consciousness feels like a thousand years. Dice paces here and there while Gentaro sits right beside Ramuda, holding his hand like it’s the only lifeline he has to save himself from death. Around them, the members of the six divisions’ team wait impatiently, observing if anyone from Chuohku enters the room.

Minutes pass until the petite body stirs. Clear eyes of cerise shade with bluish streak flutter open, darting side to side as it scan the whole room. Voices laced with concern, everyone calls his name simultaneously.

“Ramuda?”

“Amemura-kun?”

“Amemura?”

“Hmn…” The timbre of his voice dropped too low for everyone to recognize, save for the members of Fling Posse, the Doctor and the Conman. He turns towards the man with odd fur coat, one brow rising in irritation. “Isn’t that ‘Professor’ for you, Yamada?”

The brothers sharing the same surname exchange surprised murmurs. They know that the one Ramuda pertains to is the Conman yet they wonder why he knows that he is their Father…. as he claims him to be. Rei straightens his back then speaks formally. “Pardon me. Welcome back, Professor.”

“That coat of yours is visually aggravating. You better take that off,” Ramuda fires his insults as he struggles to sit up. Gentaro, helps him do so.

“R-Ramuda?” The Novelist reluctantly calls his name when their gazes meet. He notices that there’s something different in those eyes, other than its color. “You’re Ramuda, right?”

“You’ve grown so big now.” Gentaro blinks, confused at how their leader addresses him as if he’s someone they met even before that fateful day he asked for them to be his teammates. “Have you met your brother yet? Or are you the brother? And you, too.” He turns towards Dice who scrambled to his side. “Have you completed your lessons? Your Mom will nag at us if she catches you skipping them. Not that I won’t bail you out.” His words confuse the hell out of Dice. How did he know about his Mom and his lessons? “But you two won’t remember a thing about it. Same to you, Ichi-chan…”

Now he gives his attention towards the manager of the Yamada Odd-jobs shop. The heterochromiac just gives him a confused stare as he grabs his brother closer to him. “Seems like you managed to take care of Ji and Sabu.” He slightly bows his head. “And let me apologize for taking your Dad away. Please take him back.”

“Professor, that’s cold of you!” Rei complains.

“I’ll be cutting half of your salary for the whole year because of that,” Ramuda quips back, tapping Doppo’s anxiety attacks that makes him whisper depressing words in the corner. Rei just grins, ineffectively hiding his irritation.

“Y-you’re not our Ramuda…” Gentaro declares, voice shaking. Soft smile blossoms from the Pink man’s lips. It is of pity and concern that makes Gentaro’s eyes almost watery.

“Sorry, I… no longer have the memories fron the time I am under the real hypnosis.” Gentaro breaks down upon hearing this. This must be a lie. Ramuda is a big bad liar like him. But he cannot deny that this ’Ramuda’ just told them something their Ramuda wouldn’t say.

Ramuda burries his hands on the Novelist and Gambler’s head as he pulls them into an embrace. Everyone in the room can feel his usual affection towards the two, another thing that he didn’t lose.

“Then, who are you?” Cerise orbs turn towards a pair of Cerulean ones. In just a second, Jakurai knew that this Ramuda is less human than the other one.

“Just an old Engineer and Scientist who aspires to be a Fashion designer.” He grins and there’s something in that grin that makes everyone who saw it shudder. “I just want to have my way with the ladies and do something fun! I’m utterly bored, you see!”

“Professor…” Rei sighs, taking over as he sees that his employer has no intentions of telling what Jakurai and the rest of the people here wanted and needed to know. “This person is the one who made the original hypnosis mic. Everyone here, save for Jinguji, were also its first test subjects.”

[axl-reality]

!Okay

When you hit rock bottom, all you'll see is only despair.

An artificially born creature, worked to the bone and discarded like some trash, Amemura Ramuda considers himself lucky that he's just bound by handcuffs, on his knees and looking up at the silhouette of 3 men he used to adore. Captured and wounded with nowhere to run off to or a place return to. Being beated to death seems better now if he passes away in their hands.

Returning his bleary gaze with ones filled with contempt, the pink haired man, all alone now, can only grin. It successfully provokes Aohitsugi Samatoki and lungs on him but is stopped by Yamada Ichiro before a hit lands on Ramuda's already bruised face. Jinguji Jakurai chooses to be silent, watching the scene before him unfold as if he's watching some sort of a movie. Ramuda loathes how Jakurai copes by disassociating himself. Then again, there's nothing he much liked in the other man. (A lie of course, Gentaro would say if he's here)

  "One question," Ramuda mutters, grin morphing into a resigned smile. "You can ask me one question and I'll answer honestly."

Every thing Ramuda did for others, he always expected something in return. That's how he's told to live but now that no one can tell him what to do or not, he can finally do something out of goodwill. Just this once, Ramuda will give and never ask for something to take.

"Ramuda, after what you did to Nemu, to all of us, why do you think we will still believe in whatever you'll say?!" Samatoki growls, still wanting to claw out Ramuda's throat despite being held back by Ichiro.

"Is that your question Sa-ma-to-ki?" Fiery as ever, Samatoki is really interesting to taunt. That's why he's really entertaining.

"Samatoki-san, please don't be hasty!" Ichiro says before turning towards Ramuda. The former fashion Designer cannot understand why but behind the anger in his mismatched eyes, there is an ounce of pity. Such a kind child. "Ramuda, what is your connection to Oyaj—" The Youth stops halfway then clears his throat then finishes his sentence. "—Amayado Rei?"

"Is that your question?" Ramuda confirms.

"Yes..."

The petite man squirms, looking for a comfortable position before he tackles a topic he prefers to avoid. "Amayado Rei is the one who made me." Ramuda doesn't bother looking at Ichiro yet he can feel their shock in the tense and heavy silence. "He then sold me and the cloning technology to Chuohku. Since then, I occasionally see him." He leaves out the info about how the other manipulates everyone to move accordingly, including Ramuda.

  "Oi Ramuda, how did Chuohku managed to hack Nemu's mind?"

Ramuda turns towards Samatoki. Pain and longing swirls alongside his usually fierce ruby eyes. He really misses his sister. Before Ramuda cannot understand how one feels it, not until he now finally experiences it. "You asked that before," he responds.

"JUST ANSWER ME DUMBASS!"

"Hai, hai, no need to yell. I can hear you unlike that old man over there." Ramuda steals a glance at Jakurai. Still, the man remains silent. Boring. "I... One of the clones used the real hypnosis mic on her. But you can't beat up that clone anymore... that special mic is the only one that can do the hacking but it also kills the user. To lessen the casualties, that's what Amemura clones are for."

  He doesn't wait for Samatoki to react and asks Jakurai next, "your turn! What do you want to ask me?" He giggles, sounding a bit more of a helpless than a merry one. "It can be anything! Like if I know how to treat Yotsusuji or how was I even able to make all of us fight!"

  Instead of being taunted like Ramuda expected, Jakurai wordlessly approaches and kneels before him. Long arms wrap around the smaller, bruised and battered body. The Doctor presses his cheek on the side of Ramuda's head, whispering, "how are you feeling?"

Forgetting to even confirm if the Doctor is sure about his inquiry, Ramuda just answers, "How am I feeling? The worst crap, of course."

No one asked him if he's hurting, except for his current Posse. He thought no one except cared. Then here's Jakurai, casually asking him. How could he... That's so unfair... That's so unfair to show care when he made Ramuda think he hates him.

"They forced me to make the first friends I had fight each other. Then after seeing I'm starting to malfunction, they threw me away. Now, they took my Posse. HOW CAN I STILL BE OKAY?!"

"Yes, that really is painful and I can never blame you for being hurt; it's okay not to be okay and cry." Jakurai gently ruffles Ramuda's hair matted with dried blood. It's as affectionate as before that it coaxes tears to roll down his cheeks. "We're so sorry he have to hear these from you before deciding to help."

The tight metallic bind departs from his wrists, Samatoki passes by his field of vision while carrying the cuffs. "I still can't forgive you for taking my sister away..." He mutters. "...but we have a common enemy now. I'll take them back along with Nemu."

Ichiro sits beside Ramuda, arm over the pink-haired man's shoulder. "I always treated you and the rest from TDD like my brothers, even more now that I learned that he made you." His tone spills his pure sense of justice. "No one who hurts my brother will get past me unscathed."

Jakurai finally releases him and wipes his tears and blood with a handkerchief. There's nothing but warm fondness in his eyes. "Ramuda-kun, there is just one more question I want to ask of you, will you entertain it?" Ramuda nods, feeling more giddy with how Jakurai used his first name again. "Will you help us break the wall?"

Eyes blown wide, the former fashion Designer can only hear the loud thumping life inside his chest. This must be the first time he feels this way towards someone asking him to do a thing for them. Ramuda pulls Samatoki down, the surprise making him kneel. Even with his short arms, the former fashion Designer scoops everyone into a hug.

The rock bottom doesn't only have despair. Hope appears like a spider thread to those who'll open their eyes wide enough to see it.

"Yes, I will."

Ramuda will grab on it and pull himself back into the surface.

[axl-reality]

!Home (it's a Lie though)

Every fold, button and tassel serves as added weight to each of his steps. His body laments over the added grams, craving for the lightness brought by ripped jeans and an old tattered shirt. Squeaky sounds of soles firm under his foot is replaced by low and hard thuds of solid heels on concrete. Yumeno Gentaro stills right in the middle of the crossing, people avoiding him as if he brings plagues, treatment opposite of that time they're unafraid to collide with his shoulders.

  The Yumeno who is known by everyone and the Yumeno only known by the other, which one is Gentaro ?

  People clear out and what Gentaro faces is an empty glass display from the other side of the road. He approaches it, burning on his emerald eyes the image of the man right in front of him - clothing of a scholar, windswept chestnut brown locks and a smile he's mastered to replicate. His clothes are too complicated to wear and take almost an hour to put on, hard shoes with noisy but boring steps, prominent presence with lies worn like an adornment to it. He is him outside but who is he inside?

  A pair of reflections joins his own — one bearing a teal jacket and pastel pink and purple hair. He hops towards him with a smile. "It's Gentaro!! Hello!"

And the other one with a green coat and cobalt mop smiles too as he places his arm over his shoulder. "What are you looking at, man?" He asks. "There's nothing displayed here."

"Are you sure there isn't a thing there?" He answers with a smirk. Faking a scream (or maybe not), Ramuda hides behind Dice while the blue-haired gambler squints into the glass. He takes a couple of minutes staring before saying an unsure 'there's really nothing there' to which Gentaro responds with: "Then what is the thing I saw moving?"

Ramuda screams again, with Dice this time, and hides behind the Novelist. At their position, Gentaro cannot hide the smile blooming on his lips, even he tries to hide it behind his sleeve. "That is a lie though." The Ghost isn't behind the glass but the one they're standing behind of.

"Geez, Gentaro just stop! Come!" Ramuda grabs his sleeve, dragging him almost. His leader's hand on his arm, it feels like his steps finally turned light. "Let's play 'Nyan! Nyan!' while running around Dice again!"

"Fuck, not again! Gentaro..." Dice grabs his shoulder from the side opposite from their leader. With Dice's hold, Gentaro is reminded that even if his name doesn't belong to him, they are still calling specifically  for him. "...let's eat instead! Ah but please treat me; I blew all my cash away at the slots."

Gentaro laughs, this time openly displayed for the two. They return his smile with a toothy grin and an awkward one. "Again? It can't be helped then."

  The talk of the restaurant they will try today, footsteps unsynchronised yet walking towards one direction, these sounds remind Gentaro of the home he built with the help of his brother's identity.

Someday when you finally return to us, I will tell you, Nii-san, how great my other home is.

[axl-reality]

Sksmsmskdkmxk SO CUTE HNGGG!!!

BABY DRAGON

[axl-reality]

Meet the Walking insanity

Henlo, I'm AXL (read as ak-sel not A-X-L). I've been writing here for a while now but I haven't introduced myself yet. Oof

I go by AXL_Reality and Montserratte in AO3 (one account for wholesome posting the other for (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) posting).

You may call me AXL, Montsie, Umi or that person. Since I'm a pretty laid-back, totally random person so I don't really care what pronouns people use to address me.

I run the same tumblr katsumi-keia, too. There all where my art related stuff go.

So yeah, IDK how to use the app (properly) so it'll take a while before I follow everyone back here. And I may reply on the comments using my main tumblr (katsumi one), s'rry about that ehe.

[axl-reality]

!Intact

This is a small follow up to this post: https://axl-reality.tumblr.com/post/628096870300991488/a-lone-figure-clothed-in-pastel-blue-fabric-stands

Please read it first prior to this one :)

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A drop of sweat rolls from his forehead to his cheek. It falls on his teal coat before he can manage to catch it. The intensity of that person's stare forces more drops to form.

Amemura Ramuda could feel it. Someone is watching him, not in the least being subtle about it that it irks him enough to confront the source.

"Jinguji Jakurai." He turns towards the owner of the gaze who was a bit surprised that he would be noticed even if he's practically looming over him with that gigantic build of his. "Would you please stop stalking me?"

"I am not stalking you, Amemura-ku—" He stops midway then clears his throat. "Professor Amemura."

"Right! If staring at me, or rather, observing my movements almost 24/7 isn't considered stalking, what do you call it then?" He sighs. "This is why I can't stand you young'uns!"

"Professor Amemura I am not a child but a man in his thirties."

"And I am in my ninetie— fuck you!" His glare receives a soft chuckle from the Doctor. For some reason, getting on his nerves relaxes Jakurai. He does get why the Doctor won't attempt to be on his good side but like hell he'd want to be this person's emotional punching bag. "Now you had your fill of pestering me, can you leave me alone?" He turns around but a hand on his wrist stops him from fleeing, squashing with his long fingers some of the petals of his camellia hair-tie wrapped around it.

"Hey!" He regrets the moment the Professor raises his eyes to see the other's expression. Loss practically written on his face, Jakurai has the look of someone who knows the truth but refuses to accept it. He's man of science and medicine yet he's hoping for a miracle to arrive. Just watching him like this makes it hard for Ramuda to breathe.

"Is Ramuda-kun really gone?" He asks, voice transitioning from hopeful into depressed. "I thought I could finally help him, that he could share what he's going through. But where is he now? Will I even be able to apologise?"

If Ramuda were the person he was before, we would definitely give Jakurai answers immediately. He hesitates though, for reasons he can't put a finger on. All he knows that he cannot put another crack to this shattered person.

"You look like you're about to cry, Jakurai." The taller man trembles before averting his eyes.

So, that's it.

Jakurai connected deep with that Ramuda, perhaps deeper than the bonds he formed with his Posse. A connection so deep that the sight of his face stricken with agony is enough to prick his chest like his heart finally shed its shell forged from stone.

The Professor's body moves on its own as he walks behind him. Jakurai's back stiffens; he goes a centimetre taller making Ramuda click his tongue. He just made it harder for the smaller man to reach the back of the other's head.

Even so he is able to gather the other person's hair into a bunch, part and weave it into a fish tail braid. He pulls the camellia hair-tie off his wrist and uses it to bind Jakurai's hair, hanging it over the Doctor's shoulder. "It suits you."

Tears finally form on Jakurai's eyes, freely flowing when he notices that the smaller man spread his arms wide, inviting him for a hug. The taller man falls into the embrace, gripping Ramuda's jacket as he bawls.

The scientist can no longer return their fashion designer yet somewhere in his chest he cries with his estranged lover. A tear falls from his cerise eyes as proof.